The Northern Pacific farmer. [volume] (Wadena, Minn.) 1878-1885, 1880-09-23
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Frank Les!ie'S.


gray thunder-clouds, from the face of
the June sky, and the sun shone down
with renewed fervor.
Gas hot as twas before the rain!'' en-
claimed Mrs. Curtis, rs she opened her
parasol and leisurely stepped from the
Haywood drygoods store in which she
had, half IN hour before, taken shelter
from the storm.
Yes, it is, ma'am," said Mr.. Brown,
the proprietor, handing her the bundles
she had bong hit from him, and he adj
ded: ''You'll have hot walk under
this brilin' hot sun. Better run in to our
house an stay ter tea. You hain't seen
vhe twins yet. Smartest title critters
ever was. Mrs Browns gettin' on finely
and will be glad to see you"
"Thanks; I'd like to, but l must hur-
ry home and can my currants. Besides,
I wouldn't undertake that long walk
through the pine woods after dark for
anything in the world. It's gloomy
enough in the daytime. Give my re-
spects to your wife; tell her I'll drop in
soon and see her and the babies Good
day"
Good-day," said Brown, and he adj
ded, as he saw Mrs. Curtis hurrying
down the street, "Queer crittern'
Yes, by all the inhabitants of Hey
wood, Mrs. Curtis was called peculiar
She was upwards of fifty years, tall and
erect with iron-gray hair, ruddy cheeks
and keen, dark eyes. And decidedly
she was a person that minded her own
business. She had lived in Haywood
over five years, yet in all that time not
single person had been able to CLEAN
any information concerning her past
life. All that could be ascertained was
that she was widow, childless and
with a little property, consisting of a
comfortable cottage surrounded by a
few acres of land, and with few hun
dred dollars in the Haywood bank.
Meanwhile, Mr.. Brown returned to
his counter to wait on customer, and
Mrs. Curtis pursued her journey home
ward For some distance her road led
along the dusty highway, then she turn
ed into - little footpath through the
daisy-dotted meadow, then across the
creek bridge, until presently she came
to the dense pine woods whose shade
was very pleasing to her.
When about half way through the
woods she came to a small patch of late
strawberries. She stopped to pick them
Her brown, Woodworking hands were
nearly full Of the luscious red berries,
when a rustling and a footstep startled
her. She hastily glanced up. In an
instant All iron-like hand was clutching
her throat, and-only the frightened,
wildwood birds could tell rest!
x
About two miles from the village of
Haywood, and on the banks of Brian
Creek, dwelt Peter Groat. He was
Dutchman, who, with his family, had
lately come to America, and in the
previous autumn had bought few
acres of land bordering the creek.
Here he had erected a small but COM
Portable house, and was, to all appear
The only thing that could be said
against him by a few grumblers was
that he was too "close," clinging tightly
to his hard-earned pennies, and ever
on the lookout for more. But this was
certainly excusable when it was known
that he had a mortgage on his farm,
which, together with the wants of rap
idly increasing family, was enough to
make any man greedy Of gain.
It was the evening of the day on
which our story began. Peter, sur
rounded by his wife and children, sat
placidly, smoking his pipe on the little
grass-plot in front Of the house.
The supper had been eaten, the COWS
MIXED, the pigs fed, the chickens
housed from thievish rats, and all the
family, young and old, felt entitled to
season of rest. Hans and Frits were
turning somersaults on the soft grass;
Gretchen, the faxen-haired lassie, was
feeding q pet robin; Franz, the six
months baby, was cuddled up to his
mothers breast, contentedly smacking
his lips over his evening meal.
The sun went down; the shadows
deepened. The clock in the distant
village struck the hour of eight. Peter
Groat rose, shook the ashes from his
pipe. and said:
"Come, kinder, it is late. The dew
is falling, and let's go to bed"
"Vater! vater!" suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate,
''there is a man coming in our yard-a
stranger!''
Peter slowly sauntered down to meet
the newcomer.
He was an elderly man, with tann-
ed and rugged face, sandy hair sprin-
kled with gray, and dark, deep set
eyes, somewhat inaamed. His clothes
were Of good material, although worn