The Hunted Outlaw | Page 4

parties together. They
had gone to the same church, sat in the same pew, sang the psalms from
the same book. They had walked out together in the summer evenings,
and both had felt the influence of the white moonlight which steeped
the trees along the Marsden road. They had, so to say, appropriated
each other, and yet there had been no word of love between them. They
had spoken freely to each other; their hands had touched, and both had
thrilled at the contact, and yet they were only friends! The village had
settled it that they were lovers and that they would be married, and felt
satisfied with its own decision, because both were popular.
It was a summer afternoon, and they were in the woods together.
Minnie had a basket for wild strawberries. None had been gathered.
They were seated at the trunk of a tree. Donald had told her that he
thought of leaving the country, and she felt stunned. Her heart stopped.
She became as pale as death.
"Yes, Minnie," he said, "I am tired of this life. I want away. I want to
push my fortune. What is there here for me? What future is there for me?
I want to go to the States. I can get along there. This life is too dull and
narrow, and all the young fellows have left."
"Perhaps I feel too that it is a little dull, Donald," Minnie said, "but not
being a man, I suppose desires like yours would seem improper When
you go," and her voice trembled a little, "I will feel the dullness all the
more keenly."
"And do you think it will not cost me an effort to sever our friendship?"
Donald said with emotion; "we have been playmates in childhood and
friends in riper years. I have been so accustomed to you that to leave
you will seem like moving into darkness out of sunlight. Minnie," he
went on, taking her hand, and speaking with fervor, "can we only be
friends? We say that we are friends; but in my heart I have always
loved you. When I began to love you I know not. I feel now that I
cannot leave without telling you. Yes, Minnie, I love you, and you only;
and it was the hope of bettering my prospects only to ask you to share
them, that induced me to think of leaving. But I cannot leave without

letting you know what I feel. Just be frank with me, and tell me, do you
return my love? I cannot see your face. What! tears! Minnie, Minnie,
my darling, you do care a little for me!"
She could not look at him, for tears blinded her, but she said, simply,
"Oh, Donald, I have loved you since childhood."
"My own dear Minnie!" He caught her to his breast, and kissed her
sweet mouth, her cheek, her hands and hair. He took off her summer
hat, and smoothed her golden tresses; he pressed his lips to her white
forehead, and called her his darling, his sweet Minnie.
Minnie lay in his arms sobbing, and trembling violently. The restraint
she had imposed on herself was now broken down, and she gave way to
the natural feelings of her heart. She had received the first kisses of
love. She was thrilled with delight and vague alarm.
"Don't tremble, darling," he said, after a long silence.
"Oh, Donald, I can't help it. What is this feeling? What does it mean?"
It was unconscious passion!
CHAPTER VI.
"SUCH PARTINGS AS CRUSH THE LIFE OUT OF YOUNG
HEARTS."
Donald had made up his mind to go West In vain his parents dissuaded
him.
Young love is hopeful, and Donald had pictured reunion in such
attractive guise, that Minnie was half reconciled to his departure.
But the parting was sad.
Donald had spent the last evening at Minnie's parents.
The clock has no sympathy with lovers. It struck the hours

remorselessly. The parting moment had come. Minnie accompanied her
lover to the door. He took her in his arms. He kissed her again and
again. He said hopeful things, and he kissed away her tears. He stroked
her hair, and drew her head upon his breast. They renewed their vows
of love.
Minnie said, through her sobs, "God bless you, Donald."
He tore himself away!
CHAPTER VII.
"TO THE WEST, TO THE WEST, THE LAND OF THE FREE."
"Bully for Donald!"
"Thar ain't no flies on him, boys, is thar?"
"Warn't it neat?"
"Knocked him out in one round, too!" The scene was a saloon in
Montana. Six men were gathered round a table playing poker. The light
was dim, the liquor was villainous, and the air was dense with tobacco
smoke. It was a cowboy party, and