The Escape

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Manuel, half suffocated with the mad beating of his heart, grasped Nell with a trembling hand. "If they catch me," he whispered, "Nell, I would rather die." "Courage, beloved." "Hush!" cautioned the Frenchman. "Follow me a few paces behind. Don't speak." Into the wide main street they passed without comment. Once they were called to stop, and Gavere answered the sentries in German and, with a laugh and a jest, passed on. Manuel hesitated. Would Gavere betray him? He did not know a word of German and he feared for what was said. He thought of the day when he and Gavere had sworn eternal hate for the sake of the woman one had lost and the other gained. Was this Gavere's revenge? Not deportation, but death? "Courage!" whispered Nell. The sentry passed on. Gavere walked into a house. They followed. "Through the house and garden," said Gavere, softly. "Twenty men passed out of the city this way today and got to safety. Come along, but be careful. There's a by-lane that leads to the fields. A simple trick." He laughed quietly, this man who chanced his life to save his fellowmen in the country of his adoption. "Forgive me, Gavere!" said Manuel. Their hands clasped each other's as they had done years ago when they were called "the brothers." Through the lane and over the desolate fields they went. Sometimes hiding in the shadows, sometimes sprinting over the open places. The baby lay as dead in Nell's arms. "Give him to me," said Manuel. "No, no!" faltered Nell, fearing that he would think the worst if he felt the tiny form so cold and stiff. The moon came out, and in the faint light he saw tears on Nell's face. "Are you frightened?" he whispered. — "For you for you. If they catch you at the frontier — — Gavere heard. "If we are caught shoot!" he said, tersely, thrusting a pistol in Manuel's hand. Manuel followed the direction of Gavere's eyes. Nell saw they both looked at her. She shuddered. "Will it hurt much?" she asked. "No; I wish I could bear the pain for both," Manuel said, hoarsely. "I wish I could bear the pain alone!" thought Gavere, looking at the woman he loved.

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Manuel took Nell's hand. She seemed doubly dear in this wild run for life. Gavere knew every inch of the way, he had trodden it before with trembling Belgians following. Then he had gone with a smile on his lips, thinking of their freedom. Now an icy hand seemed to grasp his heartstrings. He was thinking of the risk. It was cold, but he opened his shirt at the neck. Once he raised his head and let his breath hiss between his teeth like a man overpowered with heat, and yet he shivered. On those five miles Manuel and Nell lived through the emotion of a lifetime. She was stronger than he, for she thought of the safety and happiness beyond; he, of his wife caught by — the Germans and he dead. He could almost feel the grip of the sentinel's hand on his neck. "We should not have brought the child. He may wake, and a sound means death." Nell hugged the child and wondered if she would ever hear its little voice again. "The frontier," whispered Gavere. Wait in the shadow." Trembling, they shrank back into the darkness. The sentinel, like a ghost in the night, stood on the summit of a mound, and then walked on. "Wait till I signal you." Gavere wriggled forward on his stomach, and they caught the sound of insulated clippers cutting the wires the Germans had stretched across. He waved his hands. They darted across. From the darkness someone fired. "Crouch," he whispered; "crouch down." They scrambled on hands and feet. They have seen us!" cried Nell. "They will come." "Hurry!" commanded Gavere. "I cannot leave you alone now, Gavere!" whispered Manuel. "For Nell's sake, man, go ! The darkness will cover you. I will call out and tell you how I fare. Go, go! God bless vou!" 7 "Come!" "Someone must keep them back. Take these clippers in case there are more wires." There Was no time for more words. Two forms stumbled on and were scarcely seen in the darkness. "Oh, God! oh, God! If he is killed!" gasped Manuel. "Gavere, my brother." The clouds that were racing across the sky had hidden their retreat, but now the moon came out again, and Nell looked back over her shoulder. "There are three soldiers!" she gasped. "One is taking aim." Quick as the thought Manuel pulled her down and fell beside her. The shot whizzed over their heads. He saw a small barn not twenty yards away.

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"Keep down and wriggle towards that," he whispered. He snatched the child from her, and they struggled on. The crack of a pistol rent the air, and Gavere's voice rang out: "One man the less." The thin, frosty air brought the sound of the struggle clearly towards them. Gavere was fighting the three men for them. In one backward glance Manuel saw Gavere hit up the rifle of a soldier who still saw them and was again taking aim. But the rifle shot at the stars. "He saved us that time," gasped Manuel. On they struggled, cheered by the gay voice of the Frenchman, who shouted: "Another down. Vive la France! It's all right. I win!" and then more softly, but still clear, the voice rang across the frontier amid the sounds of shooting: "Courage!" They gained the barn and sheltered there. One more glance showed them two forms locked together and struggling. Then the moon hid behind a cloud. They grasped each other's hands and huddled close to the chilly stones in the darkness. Nell tried to pray, but nothing came from her lips but a sob. Then more faintly than before Gavere's voive stole across the now quiet fields: "All's well. I'm going home." "Thank God!" whispered Manuel. "He has saved us and now he is going back home. We will find him again some day, Nell — Gavere, my brother." * * * # »

In the dark of night an old woman opened the door of her lonely farm and let two tired wayfarers in. She set the fire blazing and gave them food and drink. Nell tore the clothes from her baby's limbs and rubbed the little cold figure. At last the child's eyes opened, and he looked around in wonder. "He is alive!" she whispered. "Manuel, I thought him dead." "He is very much alive. Nell, shall we rename him Gavere?" Manuel whispered; and Nell's hand found his, for the cloud of jealousy that had so often darkened her life had passed away from her husband forever. On the other side of the frontier a Frenchman who had laughed at the odds and shouted words into the night so that the friend of his youth and the woman he loved should not feel sorrow or regret, lay dead with a smile on his lips.

Bishop Orrin Porter Miller First counselor to Presiding Bishop C. W. Nibley, of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints, died at his home on South State street, Granite stake of Zion, Salt Lake City, shortly before one o'clock, Sunday morning, July 7. Bishop Miller was born September 11, 1858, in Mill Creek, Salt Lake county. He was the son of Reuben Miller and Ann Craner., He was married on November 10, 1881, to Elizabeth N. Morgan, Daniel H. Wells officiating in the ordinance performed in the Endowment House at Salt Lake City. His father having! died July 22, 1882, Orrin settled up his father's estate and moved to Riverton where a portion of land had fallen

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to him through his father's will. In 1885, he was appointed to preside over the Riverton branch and later, when the branch was made a ward, was ordained its Bishop. On November 6, 1881, he had been ordained an elder and on February 10, 1884, a seventy. In 1887, he became a member of the County Central Committee of the People's Party, and thereafter for a number of years took part in civil affairs, being also a member for one term, of the Territorial Central Committee of that party. For six years he acted as Deputy Registrar under the Utah Commission; and in 1889, was elected a member of the County Board of Commissioners, of Salt Lake county. In July, 1891, the old People's Party having gone out of control, he wa9 elected a member of the First Democratic Territorial Central Committee, serving in this capacity for a number of years. From 1886 to 1900, he acted as agent for Presiding Bishop William B. Preston, in receiving hay, grain, etc.,from all the wards in the southern end of Salt Lake county. In 1897, he was appointed a special agent by Bishop Preston to look after the Church sheep herds. When the Jordan stake was organized, January 21, 1900, he was set apart as its president. His death removed from this life the last of the original presidency of that stake, President Hyrum Goff having died in November, 1914, and Elder James Jensen a few months later. Bishop MiUer was chosen, October 24, 1901, second counselor to Presiding Bishop Wm. B. Preston, and when the latter was succeeded by Presiding Bishop C. W. Nibley, Bishop Miller was made first counselor.

In business affairs Bishop Miller was one of the directors of the Nevada Land and Live Stock Co., also of the Juab Development Co. He was a member of the Utah Lake Commission for a number of years, and also acted as one of the Arbitration Committee for the farmers in matters connected with the smelters. As one of the Presiding Bishopric, he had in charge most of the farming interests of the Church, and also the care of most of the Church public buildings. He was specially fitted for this work, he having been a rancher and farmer for many years. Bishop Miller was one of the kindliest men that one could ever meet. He was one of the people, and a humble and energetic laborer for their welfare and good. In him every man in need had a friend; and the most humble laborer was ever welcomed in his home and in his office with the same degree of cordiality as was extended to the wealthiest or the highest in power and authority. His friends are numbered by the thousands. In him the State loses a choice citizen, and the people a noble and tried 1

friend, dependable, firm and patient; steadfast in the faith, wise in counsel, and a kind man, of sympathetic feeling, helpful, and able in business affairs. The eulogies pronounced at the funeral services at the Assembly Hall, on the 10th of July, testified that he was a man of the people, easily approached, and good to the poor. In every way, he answered the description, as given by the Apostle Paul to his beloved son Timothy, of what a Bishop should be. More could not be said of any man. He goes to his rest beloved by all, having finished a good course, and won his salvation.