The Osceola times., 1881-03-12

not omitting the baby, and laying some
stress upon the mans illness.
"A sick mani" answered Aunt 'Cinda.
Fetch him right in. An the baby, too,
an the woman-all of EN-" she insisted
and turned to lead the way, murmuring
to herself in pleased manner, Good
ness gracious, babyw
The sick man rose with a sudden effort
and sat upright. The dusk had thicken-
ed and the stars were coming out, and
the path to the door of the cabin, along
which he cast yearning look, was be-
ginning to lose itself in the proximate
and dusty sage brush, 81 guess I'd bet
ter stay in the wagon" be observed;
'ther'll be too many of u.s." And then
glancing skyward, 'Jts goin' to be a
purity night" he added, and dropped
back upon his pallet.
Aunt 'Cinda hesitated, listened, faced
about, and slowly returned. The mother
had Just climbed down from her uncer-
tain seat, and was holding the baby in
her arms while she clumsily adjusted her
without speaking, Aunt 'Cinda took the
child, and, stepping aside, turned its lit.
tie surprised face to the stars and gazed
upon it fixedly-wishing it were hers, we
imagined. "You cunnin' little darlin'," )"
she said, directly, and handed it back in
the same peculiar impulsive manner.
Then she moved forward few short
PAGES, and stood, with bowed head very
close to the wagon. The sick man must
have heard her, for Immediately, almost,
he was sitting up again leaning out over
the wagon-side. Her face, as she lifted
it, touched his; there was a tluttering
instant's pause; she grasped his hand:
"If you amt Aaron Mcmillan, you're
his ghostp'
We hastened to them. She had an
arm about his neck, now, and his head
was upon her shoulder In the starlight
he looked to be sleeping.
Don't you know me, Aaron?' she said
fervently; ooh, don't you know me?'
The man opened his eyes with curl
Gus start, and regarded her minute like
one amazed;
"They told me-you was dead-'Cin-
dy." He spoke slowly, in choked and
wavering tone, and made motion as if
to lie down again.
"But | amt dead, Aaron urged Aunt
'Cindy, Tightening her hold upon him,
and stroking his temples; 81 amt dead,
don't you see? I'm right here by you,
an a holdin' your han. / come away
out here to meet you, Aaron. Amt you
glad to see me? Its been so long. Don't
be mad at me, Aaron, don't. / couldn't
stan it to stay there, wher' ev'ry step
took got lonesomer and lonesomer an
it 'peared to mes if you got furder and
furder off. But | knowed you'd come
back; and sometimes, Aaron, some
times"
"Stop, 'Cindy. stop" he interposed
with startling abruptness. "Iou don't
know what a fix I'm in"
But she did know-had we not told
her, could she not see-that he was very
i'll, and weak, and nervous: and he seem
ed to guess her thought, for in the next
breath he said II don't mean the sick
ness" and then pointing finger in
the direction of the mother and child
he added: That's my baby, yender
'Cindy"
He waited for her to reply; he looked
up into her face imploringly; but she
said not word. Surely she had heard
him; did she not understand? He wait.
ed moment longer Then he glanced
again at her face, again pointed to the
mother and child, and suddenly, with
woe begone but blunt and cruel force
exclaimed
"Cindy, I-I've-got another Wife"
She did not scream, poor woman, MOI
faint, nor stir. The voice of the child
broke the stiffness, at length, with 8
quick, impatient call, like the chirp of a
hungry bird. And then Aunt 'Cindy
carefully released her arm from about
his neck, and turned her head away, and
hid her face with her hands, and sobbed
"Oh, Aaron, Aaron, Aaron"
The sight was not one for strange ol
accidental eyes, and we retired, my com
panion and |, to a respectful distance
What more was said, we could not know
but they conversed there together fol
several minutes, the three of them-no
angrily nor loudly, but very earnestly
and two or three times we detected the
shrill voice of the child's mother abov,
the others, as if in special entreaty. Oul
hearts involuntarily went out to Aunt
'Cinda; and yet there was the shrinking
mother with her baby; and there was the
sorely beset and helpless Aaron, also
The stars glittered sharply, but coldly
the advancing night made the landscape
sinister and spectral. We did not no
tice the sick man get out of the wagon
but presently he came toward us. Or
either side of him walked one of the
women, supporting him-and Aun
'Cinda carried the child. 1t was groul
that Mllet would have liked to paint; i
seemed blended part of the grotesque
and huctuating shadows. Their talk hac
ceased. Their thoughts We could no
Z l. r, D,,t tl...tT Il nil
us, they halted; and in an anxious, coax
| ing tone, Aaron said: Remember, though
| that one or t'other of you must 60 oi
with me, tomorrow" The women CAV,
/ their assent, we inferred, for he added
rs if in answer, That's bracin'." Thel
| they resumed their way, in silence again
and slowly; and looking after them, w
saw them reach the cabin and enter a
| the open door-just rs the stage cam
rattling up, an hour late, crowded witt
passengers.
The supper was delayed that night, bu
| its quality made ample amends. w
| had never before seen Aunt 'Cinda'
| table so invitingly spread, particularly a
to canned fruits and unsuspected tumb
| lers of Jelly and preserves; and there wa
/ buttered toast, too, and Jumps of old-tim
/ loaf sugar for the coffee. One guest sal,
the feast was good enough for wedding
at which Aunt 'Cinda colored, an,
sighed forlornly, and they all laughed
All, they did not guess how that sug
/ gested word wounded her! But Aarol
was not to be seen, nor the woman Will
the baby; they had eaten by themselves
before we were called, as was proper, am
were waiting for Aunt 'Cinda in "th
entry room," as she had named it, tn
room so long sacredly kept for Aaron