Morris tribune. [volume] (Morris, Minn.) 1880-2000, 1880-09-23
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June sky, and the sun shone down with
renewed tervor.
''As hot as twas before the rain!" ex-
claimed Mrs. Curtis, as she opened her
parasol and leisurely stepped from the
Haywood drygoods store in which she
had, half an hour before, taken shelter
from the rain.
"Yes, it is, ma am" said Mr.. Brown,
the proprietor, handing her the bundles
she had bought from him, and he added:
"Yon hain't seen the twins yet. Smartest
little critters ever was. Mrs. Browns
gettin' on finely, and will be glad to see
you.''
''rhanks; I'd like to, but must hurry
home and can my currants. Besides, /
wouldn't undertake that long lonely 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 and tell her I'll drop
in soon and see her and the babies. Well,
good day.
''Good day." said Brown, as he watch,
ed Mrs. Curtis huIrying down the street.
"Queer critter!'
Yes, by all the inhabitants of Haywood,
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
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 intor-
nation concerning her past lite. All that
was ascertained was that she was widow,
childless and with little property, con-
sIsting of a comfortable cottage sur
rounded by a few acres OF land, and with
a few hundred dollars in the Haywood
| bank.
Meanwhile, Mr.. Brown returned to his
| counter to wait on customer, and Mrs.
Curtis persued her journey homeward.
For some distance her road led along the
dusty highway, then she turned 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 pleas
ing to her.
When about halt way through the
woods she came to small patch of late
strawberries. She stopped to pick them.
Her brown, hard. working hands were
nearly full of the luscious red berries,
when rustllng and footstep startled
her. She hastily glanced up. In an in.
slant an iron-llke hand was clutching
her throat, and-only the frightened,
wildwood birds could tell the rest
| About two miles from the village of
Haywood and on the banks of Briar
Greek, dwelt Peter Groat. He was
Dutchman, who, with his family, had
lately come 10 America, and in the pre-
Vious Autumn had bought few acres of
land bordering the creek. Here he had
erected small but comfortable house,
and was to all appearances, an honest,
hard working man. The only thing that
could be said against him by few grum
blers was that he was too 'close," clinglng
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 mortgage on his
farm, which together with the wants Of
rapidly increasing family, was enough to
make any man greedy of gain.
1t was the evening of the day on which
our story began. Peter, surrounded by
his wife and children, sat placidly smok-
ing his pipe on the little grass-plet 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
both young and old felt entitled to a sea-
son of rest. Hans and Fritz were turn
ing somersaults on the soft grass
Gretchen, the fiaxen haired lassie, was
feeding pet robin; Franz, the tiny six
months baby, was cuddled up to his
mothers breast, contentedly smacking
his lips over his evening meal.
The sun went down; the shadows be-
gan 70 deepen. 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 to bed.'
'Vater! vaterl" suddenly cried Hans
and Fritz, running up from the gate,
"there's man coming into our yard-a
stranger"
Peter sauntered slowly down to meet
the newcomer.
He was an elderly man, with tanned
and rugged face, sandy hair sprinkled
with gray, and dark, deep set eyes, some
what inf1amed. His clothes were of very
good material, althc ugh worn and dusty
with travel. In his hanG he earned a
large satchel.
"Good-evening," said he.
"Efening to you, sir" replied Peter
Groat.
"I'm peddler, said the man, speak
ing in German. 81 have sold nearly all
my goods, and am on my way back to
New York. I got left by the train and
undertook to walk to the next station.
lost my way and find that I will have
to get lodgings for the night. Can you
help me9'
"The good book commands us to show
hospitality" said Peter. "and although
we are not rich, we never yet turned
away be nighted traveller. So, come
in. and my frau shall get something to
eat"
The table was soon spread with a neat
white cloth, upon which was plased a
platter of cold boiled meat, garnished
with vegetables, then plate of white
bread, roll of butter, dish of shining
raspberries and plate of spicy ginger
cookies.
81 feel too dirty to sit down to decent
table, said the stranger, with smile.
"May I trouble you for basin of water,
please3"
1t was brought. As he took off his
coat preparatory to washing his face and
hands, Gretchen, who stood beside him
with fresh towel in her hands, uttered a
slight scream.
SBloodp' she cried. "There is blood
, on your sleevesm
The basin of water dropped from the
strangers hands. His face shone white
through the glistening drops of water he
had dashed upon it. Then with an effort
he said, careiessly:
"Ah, yes; those rocks by the creek die
make quite cash in my shoulder. Yor
see,' explaining blandly, "whlle I was
lost thought I'd try to cross the creek.
) 1t was getting dark, and when Preached
! the other side found il SO rocky coull