Indian chieftain. [volume] (Vinita, Indian Territory [Okla.]) 1882-1902, 1884-11-06
s3sx DoRx,s sOx.


The tide was ont in Grc=r South Bax
Long island east and west ike wavy
fields of green and brown. the Bellmore
marshes stretched away in unbuoken
loneliness to meet the dim beauty of
the horizon The wind had gone down
lezFiag the br0ld bosom Of the wzter
rs still rs mirror upturnea on the level
sznds- The sun. shining through counl-
less leagues Ct haze. cast t1emulous
shadows toward the east. eud. rising ~
with shaded brows to meet iis n 5.
John Born. \ chesry fisherman, stood
out in silhouette a.Sainst the sky East
mzngling with the purple and gray Of
the leeward rim Of sea and sky. a lazy
schooner winged It's southwark fiighi.
and when tie dusky distance closed
upon Z John Dorm and hs weather
beaten old boat alone broke the change
less mon0tOny Of marsh and mf.sdOw
Lett high and dry by the receding tide.
the Cd boat lay bolt upright in the sOfG
mud. rs iaut and trim a. though moored
in her moss-growz berth 81 Bell
more landing. Her sails hung Limp
and motionless against her mas. and
about her shining deck q brown haire
liflle girl romped and laughed IN child
ish glee-
Il was unspeakably lonely GU. on the
wide-reaehing marshes. bu. as hOneSt
John Dorm shaded his ewes with his
rough. brown hand and gazed seawarl.
he gayly whistled a tune thar he had
learned lp in the Little whiie-steepled
Westinghouse in BeIlm0re village. Il
id not seem lonely or drcarv out there.
a. L. - l.
abore him and the dimpling shadows
before him sp0ks only OF home. the
marshes had been his playground in
youth. and the meadows behind him
were rs well known as the little garden
lack of his own modest cottage among
a clump OF distant trees. Even though I
the marshes had not been Ss familiar 1
rs the stabby fingers on his weather I
bezten bands. All had the sky been I.
Hack with clouds and driving rain. !
John Dorm w0ull have been Just a /
happy and free from care. for up in the /
Little house among the trees a son had 1
been born 10 bless his approaching old /
age : dsughter he had already, and /
another slept benesth the sea grass in /
his garden but unt tlis day 4 son had /
bcen denied him.
Il would not be fair 10 say that John !
Dorm had grumbled ut fate when grave /
middle life came and saw no sons in his /
family. but somewhere down in the /
depths Of his stout heart he arruei thsf. |
although girls were good enough in /
Their way, aud perhaps were necessities !
OF an all-wse scheme. vet only boy /
could stand his trick AZ the wheel or 4
rees The mainsaii in a gale OF wind. /
John Dorm wanted some one TO bear him /
company in his silent pilgrimages TO /
the fishing grounds aud the oyster beds. |
and IN turn ID guide the old sloOp out /
% sea when be himself should a the /
c0Hrse Of time be kept ashore BY the (
accumulated rheumatism o. mary Years I
of active life And So on this soft /
summer day. when a lite. -newling i
rea-he4ded soc had taken possession Of !
rhe household. John Dorm lifted up his
honest soul IN thanksgiving. and went
away 10 his WORK in the marshes as
blishely as though his wedding day Was
not ! score OF years behind HIM IN the
dead Int urforgo.ten past
The world was bright and fair TO
Joan Dorm that day. for in the future
he sw his son, strung. sturdy-li mbed
and ruddy, steering with neaTy hand
the laboring vessel pulling merrily the
wezry car, and on tho Sabbath day
trudging man uily 10 church with =
swarm Of rosy children John Dorm
sm ed and hummcd n solemn hymn.
and ia the height II his cOntentedness
stopped down and imprinted upon his
dsnehfer's wary hair 4 forgiving kiss
Ecnceforth the inn0cen- Little girl
stouia not be d.tnied rne love which Dis
had withheld for 50 long =
tine A. be guided his slooP through