The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1877-05-31
TIE STORY OF MARTY.
BY l.. V. BLAKE.

sad HeTrlcS 10 me as L lay smoking on
my blanket, supper over, and Miner
hcaping wood on the fire.
| took the pipe from my lips and
paused. The name, a strange souvenir
Of New York folly, fashion aIsl wicked
ness, came to me oddly enough here, on
the dark, silent, far-lying prairie, with
the purple, solemn twilight, starlit,
bending its hollow arch above, and the
faint, sweet, crescent moon, hung away
in the west, beside the evening star.
over the swells glimmered the white
tapped wagons and twinkline lights Of
the cmigrant camp.
Il knew his wife, epeated-"E Emma
Mansfieid-a fair, tender woman, a.
good As gold. | knew Of him-and that
was enough. Why, OF all memories, do
you recall his, to night?'
. He's over there" answered Herries.
with jerk over his shoulder toward the
emigrant camp.
." Over there? George MARRIOTT"
:" saw him. I've been over" said
Herrics sitting down. with Il thoughtful
expression, on the grass.
IAN emigrant? Foremost in all fash
ionable folly and dissipation as he used
to Tucson, Miner tells me-"
. Yes. Hadn't you heard, before we
left New York, of the scandal? How his
wife obtained divorcc-brollen hearted,
poor thing-and went home to her faith
cr"'
g Yes; | knew it we'll She had two
children, and the law decrecd them hers. .
a" That can't be, Rafe.
''Why certainly, dear fellow. Emma
told me herself met her in the street.
They were her sole remaining comfort
these two children"
" But he has one with him now"
. impoS5ible."
+" saw her, Rafc. 4 poor forlorn
child, six or seven, perhaps, with her
mothers face. | talked with him a few
minutes. He's degenerated into some
thing brutal. Poor little thing"
But | can't get over it," said /, in
the extremity of my amazemcnt.
George Marriott an emigrant. And
the childm | sat some time smoking.
then got up.
:" / believe | will take Il stroll over
Want to Gomez
No. Had enough of it. They're a
rough set, miners and hard character, in
protusion. They're drinking consider
able, and | think we'd better shift our
camp"
:" IF we mind our biz, they'll mind
theirs, guess, said Miner, grutfiv, and
added-rather inconsistently-" But eff
you're going ter git inter skrimmage.
you'd best not go alone. I'll 90 cf We
wanter"
All right, come along" and we
strolled away from the fire. 1t WAS a
longer walk than it looked. clancinr
across the swell; but presently the deep
toned bass of big white dog warned
the occupants of the nearest wagon of
our approach.
Lie down, Girls" quoth a tall, I'M
shaven individual, who turned in easy.
unconstraincd fashion, us if To do honors
of the camp to-the unexpected guests
turned, stared and colored with sudden,
embarrassed establishment; for it was
& 'or%r Marriott's self
Mr.. Ransom, believe. Never felt
very well acquainted, yet knew you
after fashion" said he, with ready, |
plant courtesy that smoothcd over the
frs. tinge Of yexation; for he was
plIinly not glad to see me. | set it down
10 the score Of his changed position and
consequent unwiliingncss to meet those
who had known him in better DAYS.
Then, too, | had been Il friend 10 his
poor, wronge wife.
SOME easy commonplace passes be-
Ween Us, and then Il child's plaintiye
V1Iec spoke from the wagon.
Papa, Is the soup most ready? Tn 50 .
hungry"
: Yes, yes; directly Lie down." He /
spoke lmpatiently, and gave savage stir
to the kettle over the fire.
why, that is Marty l said invol-
unfairly.
His face darlencd.
: To be sure he said, with a forced
laugh. Il didn't know you knew the
child. You seldom came to the house,
and | hardly knew you, myself. Yet
Emma said you were acquainted long
years ago. How oddly things come
about" he continued. TO think that
YOU and |, of all people, should meet
here in the wilderneSs,'
1t was the first time he had referred to
his wife or his married life; and now it
seemed to slip which he was fain to hurry
over.
at Is strange, said |, 'sBut surely the
life Is rough for the child. + no one
with her: Can | speak to her? She
isn't a-bed?'
lie mutterad some ungracious words,
and drew aside the flap of the wagon.
The child was crouchcd on a heap of
stutfln the corner. She rose on her elbow
and looked At me with eyes which seemed
poor Emma's own She had seen me
but two or three times in her life. vet
recellected me nj once.
Why, Marty, is it you?' said I. Shak-
ing hands with her. Il haven't dis
turbed you, have |? How do YOU do?''
She said, pretty WELL" and that she
was glad to see me; for" she added, +.
wi,a 4 timid glance at her father, a
Con see anybody now that | used To"
Lonesome, my dear? Wen, its quite 1
natural, m sure. Strange way of tray
Ciing, Isn't 1t. Quite funny in these !
hlE: white topped wagons. DO YOU like !
Sometimes-though | get tired and
want TO get out. l wish might ride ON .
Il horse, as one of them do"
=" lon ride" said Marriott. with a /
coarse laugh
You're not very strong" / said, my
dear. Perhaps | could give YOU a ride
ON my black horse-if your father is
willing. Tomorrow, may b. Ny road .
lies with yours for some distance"
91e 81, with 4 wistTuI look, that ii
would be very pleasant, and glanced
again III 4 frightened way at Marriott.
who watched every word. After little