The Iola register. [volume] (Iola, Allen County, Kansas) 1875-1902, 1884-11-07

water, bitches of mud or punches of
seaweed. Between him and the cluster
of wild flowers was Dead Mans Greek.
At low tide it was oozy bed of soft
mud, with tiny stream of water trick
| ling down its center; ut high tide a
schooner might have fioated in it in
perfect safety. 1t got its name from
the fact that man was drowned there
several years before.
Upon the Shiny bank OF Dead Mans
Creek John Dorm neither stopped nor
STAYED. With his eyes fixed confidently
upon the cluster of gay blooming
flowers he strobe down through the eel
grass and out into the mud. Had he
been less occupied with thoughts of his
first born son and vague speculaIious
concerning the career likely 10 open up
before him, he would have noticed at
once. with the experience of an old
fisherman, that the mud was very soft
and he,vy. Almost at run he pushed
forward.
In the middle of Dead Mans Creek
he stopped. A shade of vexation cross
ed his face, for he found it impossible
to cross the mud SO near the main chan
mel. He stood still n moment, trying to
think of a better crossing further up the
brook. He turned to retrace his steps.
What was thisp The heavy mud held
him fast! With mighty effort he
wrenched free one Of his legs. and tried
to struggle out to firmer ground. 1t
was impossible. He but sank the
4 nj ho
blood rushed back upon his heart, leav-
ing his cheeks and lips like ashes. 1t
was fear. Then he laughed aloud, a
hard. hollow laugh. Why should he
fearP Did he not know every foot of
sea and shore along the Great South
Bay, and was it likely that any harm
should come to him in sight of his own
home? 1t was weakness to think of
such thing. The long-delayed arrival
of his son had upnerved him for mo-
ment-that was all. He would put
forth his strength and wrench himself
free. With the energy of desperation
he tried it-once-twice three times
and stood still. exhausted. Fear shone
in his eyes, and the lines of uneypressed
anxiety deepcned across his pale face,
yet he would not cry out. People might
laugh TO know that he was stuck in the
mud, and he was proud in his way
proud of his knowledge of sea and
Shore, proud of his ability as a sailor.
He would wait while and try again.
But what was this creeping up from
the channel? 1t was water. The tide
was coming in. Instinctively he sought
the high-water mark on the bank and
measured it with his eye. 1t was fully
six inches above the top OF his head. In
sudden frenzy of terror he beat the
soft mud with his hands and shrieked
aloud. Like mailman he glared at
the little sheet of water waving in from
the swift channel like an uurelenting
fate. 1t seemed to mock him. Sea
birds circling overhead heard his cries
and scared away; Little Patty covered
down in fear.
1t was not a guicksand. He did not
sink inch by inch. He stuck fast, and
became as immovable as the bed of mud
itself. Cries, tears, prayers, alike were
in vain. No one heard. for although
the little house among the trees was in
plain sight, yet it was beyond the range
of the human voice.
The tide came in slowly, and after
awhile it touched him and climbed up
his helpless legs and threw the radiance
of the sinking sun into his bloodshot
eyes. 1t jeered at Kim and with trem-
ulous fingers reached up TO grasp him
by the throat. He struggled and
screamed until his strength was gone.
Then he stood still and waited. Higher
yet climbed the green tide. Dumbly
he saw a slender line of smoke rise up
from among the trees. Supper was be-
ing prepared for him-for him who
would need it never again. He saw the
flowers nodding in the breeze. they
might wither and die. His hand would
never place them upon his baby's
cradle. Family he heard his daughter
Patty calling. "Papa, papa!'' Did he
hear his wife humming an old tune, or
was it the water gurgling in his carp
He raised his arms. still struggling
fcebly. A moment later the only OBJ
icct on the still surface of Dead Man S
Creek was tangled tuft OF brown hair.
mingled with the drifting seaweed.
| 1t was high tide in Great South Bay.
Boston budget.