CHAPTER XI.

Taranaki Herald, Volume XLVI, Issue 10895, 20 April 1897, Page 4

CHAPTER XI.

When Koger saw the empty sleigh whirl past him, the frightened animals, tearing, snortiDg, he realized at once that something dreadful must have happened. What could those pistol shots have meant? Had this villian while in an insane moment carried Myi'tha away to this forsaken, storm-bßaten spot on the mountain side, determined that there lives should end together? Surely it would seem so. They must be sotimwhere in the darkness now far beyond. Could he possibly reudi lier side in tiise to be of any assistance to her? He must try. There was no time to to be lost. Again he urged the teum forward. But it was no easy work. The wind was increasing in force, the snow driftiug terribly, and the faithful animals conld not maintain their speed. To make it worse, this was a part of the mountain Roarer had never visited. There was not a single tree, or jutting rock that he could recall as being some landmark to toll him where he wa3. Dear sta'ki-r* and bear homers wero the ouly people that ever disturbod its quiftude. and many <>f them had built their huts hereabout for temporary shelter. They know e»ery foot of the ground, hut "it wa« questionable if they would have temerity that Roger showed in driving up this mountain in a snow storm and wiih darkness upon him, unless, like Keith Gravdou. thfy bud some desperate object in view. J^ut thnt scream wa9 still ringing in I'oger's ears and echoing in his heart. ft was his strong love that impelled him on and made him forgetful of Buch a tbiu^ as death. At last he came to & tancl slill A dark onject in tiie snow had caught his <*ye. He drew the dleigh cl >sc to the ro'iuside and leaped out, feeling his way c.ireftilly. He retraced his steps and found that the object which had attracted bis attention was a robe tb it had fallen from tha sleigh he was pursuing. As he looked about h« snoticed that the snow was cnt up and disturbed, as though a dreadful struggle had taken place. He waß down on his hands and knees, peering close to the snow. In tins way he ma<le out m welldefined track for about fifty yards. It ended at a clump of bare mountain ash. As far as that point the imprints were plain. .Beyond that they were lost. The biting wind howled fiercely around these trees and had drifted the snow. He conH trace them no farther. Yet he did not give up hope. Chilled to the marrow, and with finger 3 numbed be wandered abont. His illness from which he had barely recovered, hud left him weak. A few hours exposure had affected him. Ho felt his lack of oldtime vigor. Almost aimless in the darkness ho groped about. He found the old trail again and followed it —to the clump of ash! "They cannot be far," he cried in a frenzy. "If they are still living why may I not reach them 7 I will call! " He placed his hands to his month and called: "Mvrtba! Myr-th-a! It it I, Roger!" But his voice had not the strength it should have had, and he marveled at it himself. How long had lie been wandering abont the mountain side, he knew not. Ho remembered having a few matches in his pocket. With difficulty he secured them and held them in his numbed fingers. It was a hut hope. They may show him the direction in which the footprints lead. (to be continued.)