The Cheyenne daily leader. [volume] (Cheyenne, Wyo.) 1870-1884, 1878-08-27
GRANDMA's STORY:
THE LOST WILL.
by MAUD nEp

We sat on the porch one June evening.
looking OF across the level prairie, watch.
ing the sun as it cast its scorching level
beams across the fields Of waving wheat,
gliding the church spires of Raymond and
Eldora, sparkling on the river, as it wound
It's lazy length along, like some giant nib.
bon bound about the fair fields elisteninp
back from far-off windows, and seeming
IN no haste to tuck the coverlidn about
1t and retire to rest.
Many strange fancies ran through nv
mind Father and mother were and
l felt lonely, for they seldom spent a NIGHT
AWAY from home, and SO l begged grand.
ma for a story. paa
Tell me a true story, grandma 1
pleaded, something about your old home
among the Green Mountains" for often in
our childhood she had told us stories of
wolves and bears that had made us sit
very close together, and draw our breaths
softly.
ri will tell you one she said o-u;etlv
do not Xix to think of those days. but
it may learn you patience, as it did me.n
l looked at the dear, serene old face.
and wondered IL it had ever been necessary
70 teach lessons to one so sweet and true.
Perhaps, though, the sweetest odor Ia en-
hailed from the crushed flower, for grand
ma had always been my ideal of perfec-
lion.
She laid her knitting in her lap, and.
with folded hands and q far-away look in
her eyes, began:
n was on an exceedingly hot July day.
had been obliged to churn in the morning.
me clothes were ready to iron, and besides
here were ten men in the field to get din
aer for. As l ironed 1 noticed two new
a~andkerchiefs that your grandpa had inst
bought me, and l thought 1 would take q
moment and mark them. You see. when
ny cousin Helen had visited us that spring.
she left her indelible ink and pen on the
,lock-shelf over the table. So l reached
lp and took them. I. had written INV
name on one, when Kittie came to me and
aid. oh, ma, do mend my DOLL at the
anne time holding up a worn rag doll. l
10 not know how it happened, but abe
truck her arm against the pen, forcing It
INTO the tender flesh of the little arm,
making o great black mark that 1 knew
could never be washed off. ~
II was tired and heated, and / suppose
| felt cross. l pinned on the dolls arm.
md sent her away. u Is
You've spoiled my pen, Kittie,' 1 said !;
that's mischief enough for one day.
Run out and play under that sweet apple
tree
Can Benny go?' she said, as the little
fellow ran after her.
Yes, I shall be glad to be nd Of you
both until dinner time
" had only these two little ones. Kittie
was four and Benny two years old, but
sometimes the noise disturbed me, and nv
work Hurried me.
81 know how much 1 lacked patience
then. As they started away hand in hand
relented a little, and carried them bread
and butter, after which 1 kissed the rosy
little mouths. :
81 think that kiss was all that kept my
heart from breaking for weary years after
that, and / shall always see the picture of
the two little golden-hnired children framed
in the low doorway, as they went out to
the great fiat rock under. the sweet
tree
turned back to the heated stove. Work
met me on all sides. 1 prepared the din
ner, after l had finished ironing, and then
the men came in noisily, when 1 hurried
faster than before. i
II had thought often of the little ones,
but l was very busy, and they had played
there hours at a time. I took a kettle
from the stove, and, call it what you will,
! saw among the glowing Goals an Indians
brown hand, the palm heaped with can
dies. 1 turned cold with q shudder of
y ooWh uhC hCbtlt, I'LL Ihll
out calling, Come, little ones, mamma
wants you
Il turned the corner of the house. They
were not on the rock, and I ran hither and
thither, calling, Kittie, Kittie, Benny, oh,
where are mammals darlings?'
1.-THE sound of my voice reused the men,
who came running out and Joined in the
search, for, as l rave told you, there were
wolves on the mountains, and sometimes
a bear would grow bold enough to rob the
sheep-fold or sty. There were some black
berry bushes that fringed the woods at the
back of the house, and just beyond them
the forest. Father and 1 searched every
hollow in the fields, and every corner about
the barns. Then he babe me go to some
neighbours, while he followed the men to
the woods, but 1 wandered about, calling,
calling.
81 think / must have gone wild. Itook
no heed of day or night, and afterwards
they told me l was gone two days and two
nights, but 1 only remember how I came
around a low, shrubby spruce tree, end
suddenly stood face to face with old Cloud
top, the Indian who had years before lived
near there. $40
"It was not yet light, but 1 saw plainly,
as he stopped, two little white faces peer
ing over his shoulders, and I heard the
voices of Kittie and Ben plainly call.
Mamma
81 cried, oh | my children and sprane
towards them, which is all I ever knew.
At sunrise the hunters found me lying
insensible at the foot of the tree, and the
footprints of moccasined feet were easily
discerned.
Two of the company helped me home,
while the rest followed on after the foot
prints of the Indian.
After his encounter with me he had run
on and taken no pains to conceal his tracks.
A mile or two further on, however, the
trail ended by q river, and no further trace
could be found. though as soon as boats
could be procured, they were started ur
and down the river.
After o long time the search was giver
up. and the tired neighbors came home IL
little companies, for whole towns had en-
gagged in the search. The Indian, how
ever, had crossed the mountain. and wa,
far out Of the way before the news Of tn,
lost children spread SO far.
SAT last hope died out, and we sat arount
our lonely table, two people, old ant
orushedtin spirit ere the work Of life hal
scarce begun.
cleft all the little toys in their accus
toned places, the little dresses hung o,
the same nails, for l repeated over an,
over to my own, heart, =" Cloud-top vii
surely bring them back again"
The little doll lay on the rock, the SUI
and rain had washed out the features I ha,
penciled and the red of the cheeks I ha'
stained with berries-how eager both ha'
been to watch the painting that day-an'
there was the pin in the loose arm, rustic
by the rains. Pray God you may neve
know the agony the sight of TINT do
gave me. 1 have never been tempted t