The Kimball graphic. (Kimball, Brule County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1905, 1884-07-25

sprang ashore, and in a few minutes we
had the whole story. Willie had been
playing with the skiff in the slip, as he
had done scores OF times before. Mrs.
Warner had been busy over some house
hold duty and did not notice that it
rained. When she did, she went at
once to call Willie in. . But she could
not find either the boat or the boy.
Both had vanished as though the lake
had swallowed them up.
"She had not dared to go inland to
the village to seek help, for fear of
missing our boat as it passed, but she
had for hours been running up and
down the shore calling in vain to her
darling. Some of the lady passengers
wrapped the distracted mother in shawls
for she would not delay q moment, and
we put out into the lake.
II followed the course of the wind as
we'll as I could, for I knew we'll enough
that the little fellow had been blown
out into the lake, where there was but q
small chance that we should find him,
for it was unlikely so frail a boat could
live long in such q heavy sea.
"For an hour we beat about without
seeing an. object Oh the water, when
away in the distance there was a dark
spot that came occasionally in sight on
the top of the waves. 'Tom,' said I to
my mate, can you make out what that
is on the starboard quarter? Is ita log
or a boat?'
"sItS a log adrift. sir,
"sIt's not! I'm sure it's not! It's O
boat!" shrieked . voice close by me,
and I saw to my surprise, Mrs. Warner,
who I supposed was in the cabin, peer
ing wildly into the drilling rain. To
all my appeals to her to go below. she
kept crying
Its a boat! it is a boat! He Is
savedl
Without a glass to aid her vision, her
strong mother-love gave her keenness
of sight denied to us. It was q boat.
But it was only on my threatening to
abandon the search that the wretched
woman consented to go below.
1.-Two minutes later the mate cried,
Yes, sir, it is a boat, but it's empty so
far as I cur see. There's nobody sit
ting in it.
cit was true. There the little skiff
vas tossing about, like a cork on the
waves, with one scull dangling in the
row-locks, but not a soul could be seen
in her.
"sTom,' said I, nervously, for I felt
sure the boy was not in the boat, and I
actually trembled with apprehension
lest the sad news would kill bis mother,
will you go down and tell that poor
woman what we have SEEM?
"'Not for all the gold in California;
said the mate, decidedly; and yet he's
as brave a fellow as ever sailed the
lakes.
1--WE passed the word to have Mrs.
Warner taken into q cabin as we neared
the skiff. J. felt SO angry with that
poor painted toy of a ple~asure-boat,
that 1 had half a mind to u it down.
But of course I wasn't quite
foolish enough for that. The
mate and two of the deck-hands
put off in the yawl, for our wash would
have capsized the skif had we gone any
nearer. With a ~listless eye l watched
them approach the boat, for / felt a
leaden weight at my heart because I was
sure I should be obliged to tell the
young mother Of her loss. I saw Tom
get hold of the painter, and then spring
into the skif. Them
"'Safe! safe! The boy is here!"
"Lt appears that the little fellow,
tired of play, had lain down under the
seat, and had gone to sleep. In the
meantime the boat had drifted into the
lake and it had begun to rain. The
drizzling rain did not wake him, and he
lay in as sound II slumber as if he was in
his bed at home, and not o hair of his
head hurt.
"But what a fuss there was aboardl
The women were all crying, and the
men, too, for that matter. And the
young mother, clasping the boy to her
heart, went straight down on her knees
and thanked God before them all for
sparing his life. Idon'tthink words ever
came from a minister's lips that went
straighter up to the throne of grace
than that young woman's prayer.
"The family are living East now.
| William Warner is one of the few men
I claim as personal friends, and as for
his bright little wife, if she were my
own child, 1 couldn't have a deeper re-
gard for her. And the presents they
send me! There is no use in my trying
to choke off their gratitude. Not the
least. And every parcel comes marked,
with Willie's love-"
BERNARD BIGsBY.