The Indiana State sentinel. [volume] (Indianapolis) 1868-1895, 1881-04-20


An the woman-all Of EN- she insisted,
and turned to lead the way, murmuring TO
herself in a pleased manner, Goodness
gracious, babyp
The sick man rose with a sudden effort,
and sat upright. The dusk had thjckened
and the stars were coming out, and the path
to the door of the cabin. along which he
cast a yearning look, was beginning to lose
itself in the proximate and dusty sage brush.
81 guess I'd better stay in the wagon" he
observed; "the'll be too many of us" And
then, CHANGING skyward, F." It's a-goin to be
purity night" he added. and dropped back
upon his pallet.
Aunt 'Cinds hesitated, listened, faced
about, and slowly returned. The mother
had just climbed down from her uncertain
seat, and was holding the baby in her arms
while she clumsily adjusted her skirts.
With soliciting gesture, but without speak
ing. Aunt 'Cinda took the child, and, step
ping aside, turned its little surprised face to
the stars and gazed upon it fxedly-wishiDg
it were hers, we imagined. "You cunnin'
little darlin'," she said, directly, and handed
it back in the same peculiar, impulsive man.
ner. 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 Auttering instants pause;
she grasped his hand:
IF you amt Aaron Mcmillan, you're his
gLostl.'
We fastened to them. She had an arm
about his neck, now, land his head was upon
her shoulder In the Starlight be looked
to be sleeping
"Don't YOU know me, Aaron7" she said,
fervently; ooh, don't you know mel"
The man opened his eyes with curious
start, and regarded her as one amazed:
"They told me-you was dead-'Cindy"
He spoke slowly, in choked and wavering
tone, and made motion as if to lie down
again.
"But amt dead, Aaron" urged Aunt
'Cinda, tightening her hold upon him, and
stroking his temples; Il amt dead; don't
you sect Pm right here by you, an
a-holdin' your ham. come away out here
to meet you, Aaron. Amt you glad to see
met It's been so long. Don't be mad at
me, Aaron, don't. / couldn't STAN it to
stay there, wher' ev'ry step l took l got
lonesomer an lonesomer, an il 'peared to
mes if you got furder end furder of. But l
knowed you'd come back; and sometimes,
Aaron, sometimes"
"Stop, 'Cindy, stop!" he interposed. with
startling abruptness. "You don't know
what fix I'm I'M
But she did know-had we not told her,
could she not see2-that he was very i'll, and
weak. and nervous; and he seemed to guess
her tn ,ught, for in the next breath he said
Il don't mean the sickness and then,
pointingI finger in the direction of the
mother and child, he added: That's my
baby, yonder, 'Cindy."
He waited for her to reply; he looked up
into her face imploringly; but she said not
a word Surely she had heard him; did
she not understand He waited 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-Tve-gOt another wifei"
She did not scream, poor woman, nor faint
nor stir. The voice of the child broke the
at length, with quick, impatient
call, like the chirp of hungry bird. And
then Aunt 'Cinda 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, Aaronp
The sight was not one for strange or &C
cidental eyes, and we retired, my companion
and I, TO q respectable distance. What
more was said, we could not know; but they
there together for several minutes,
the three Of tiem-not angrily nor loudly,
but very earl etlv-and two or three times
we detected the shrill voice of the child's
mother above the others, as if in special en-
treaty. Our 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 sim
lister and spectr 1. We did not notice the sick
man get out of the wagon; but presently he
came moving toward us. On either side of
him walked one of the women supporting
him-and Aunt 'Cinda carried the child
1t was group that Millet would have liked
to paint; it seemed blended part of the
grotesque and fuctuating shadows. Their
talk had ceased. Their thoughts we could
not catch, OF course. But as they drew
nigh us, they halted; and, in an anxious,
coaxing tone, Aaron said: Remember,
though, that one or t'other of you must go
on with me tomorrow" The women gave
their assent, we inferred, for he added, as if
in answer, "Thst's bracin'." Their they're
sumed their way in silence again, and slowly;
and looking after them, we saw them reach
tie cabin and enter at the open door-just
as the stage came rafting up, an hour late,
crowded with passengers.
The supper was delayed that night, but
the quality made ample amends. We had
never before seen Aunt 'Cinda's table so In
vi,ingly spread, particularly as to canned
fruits and unsuspecting tumblers of jelly and
preserves; and there was buttered toast, too,
and Jumps of old-time loaf-sugar for the
coffee. One guest said the feast was good
enough for wedding-at which Aunt
'Cinda colored and sighed forlornly, and
they all laughed. All, they did not guess
how that suggestive word wounded herl
But Aaron was not to be seen nor the wO-
man with the baby; they had eaten by them
selves before we were called. AS was proper,
and were waiting for Aunt 'Cinda in 'the
extry room," as she had named it, the room
so long sacredly kept for Aaron's coming.
And so the merritment around the table
went on unchecked. The guests were blame
Jess, TO be sure; nevertheless their jokes and
aughter were exasperating; their very pres
ence had the effect of an intrusion. We
felt a supreme relief, l know, when it was
over at last, and the stage had departed, and
the secret was safe; and then we ventured
TO inquire after the sick man, and to tender
our services. should he need or desire them.
Hes weaker'n he lets on" Aunt 'Cinda
informed US, "an' he don't pear to have no
appetite. felt so sorry for him. a-tryin' so
i h. Intf 4 oob