Reporter and farmer. [volume] (Webster, Day County, Dakota [S.D.]) 188?-1946, 1886-06-10

letnUef, Just dlOtt Nuey sdhtu away
she came runnin' in to me an says
as they was a-goin' for long sail an
wouldn't be hack till late. Well, it
wasn't unusual for EN- to stay out till
after sundown, especially o. moon
light nights, when they could come in
on the tide an the night wind,
an this time | didn't begin wor-
ryin' about EN- until it GOT to be very
late an they hadn't come back. Some
folks as was at the house walked the
beach between the inlets with me till
late in the night, but we saw nothin'
of them, But bless me, didn't give
'em up. 1t had reen fine day, and
it was clear, bright night, an / kind
o. trusted the young Teller, for he
seemed kind o. fond o. Maggie, and ]
thought he wouldn't etno harm come
to her. An as sure as yer live next
day early in the mornin' we spied the
boat sailin' up the inlet. an 1 began
wavin' an shoutin' to 'em for Joy.
But some one as had a spyglass
said they wasn't aboard-and, mis-.
ter-they wasn't. The Teller as
was in her came from the Jersey
coast, an he said as man an a girl
had landed there the day before, an
the mana young, good lookin' chap,
he said-had paid him to bring the
boat over. I'd kept up pretty well till
then, but when | know'd she wasn't
come back an felt all OF sudden as
she might never come back, | hid my
face in my hands an cried like a baby.
Folks tell me / wasn't good one to be
gittin' along with for the next few
days an | guess they were about
right. She was all the world
to me, was Maggie. | took
her TO me as child an brought her
up an set my heart on her, an for
her to leave me in my old days was
mighty hard. When | got quieted
down they began 20 comfort me say
in as she might come back. All. mis-
ter, if she only had. I'd have welcom-
ed her, for she was still my little Mag,
gle, an I'd ha' loved her as much as
ever. But it got to be winter an sum-
mer an spring an summer an along
toward fall an | heard nothin' of her.
1T wasn't much more than a year
after she'd left when one mornn' a
Teller came sailin' over from the shore
with what he said was telegram for
me. 1t came from the city, an it read
that if | was to go to one o the hos
pitfalls there, I'd find girl as would
like to see me, an it told me to come
quick, too, for she was very low, per.
haps a-dyin' Yer may know who the
girl was; an it's likely yer know too,
as | wasn't long gettin to her. But
| wasn't any too soon. She was lynn
on a cot, an when she saw me, it was
Just all she could do to stretch her
arms out to me, so she could put 'em
around me an press her poor, pale
face against mine.
Father she whispered, L went
back on yer-on yer who'd been so
good an kind to me; an father,
want yer to say before | die as you We
forgiven me.
81 couldn't say nothin. mister, ]
Just held her closer; but Iguess as when
she felt my tears n rollin' down on her
face she know'd she'd got what she'd
wanted. held her till they told me
she couldn't speak no more, an then
! LAID her back. 1t was only n few
minutes after that she lived, but afore
size died she opened her eyes once more
an moved her lips, bent down 20 her
an she could just whisper:
Father, I'm sure yer haven't gone
back on me. I'm sure yer forgive me-
But-father-I want you to forgive
him too. For-father-Pve for.
given"
The old man buried his face in his
hands and sobbed, while the dog
moved up close to his master and
howled piteously. The piano was
still jangling in the other room and
the singing was at its loudest. But
he didn't seem to hear it.
After a while. though, they got
through, and missing him, began to call
for him. But after he went out he
passed his hand gently over the dogs
back and said, turning to me: 81 for
give her, mister; and I've tried to
forgive him. But it's more than a
poor old man like nee can do I'll try
again, mister; I'll try hard for her
sake. know as his sim a-goin' to
drive him back here sometime
drive him back that he may go on his
knees to me and tell me how he
wronged her an me-"
! had always been fond of Uncle
Jake, but after what he had told me ]
liked him better than ever. knew
that his "Iittle girls" death weighed
heavily on him; and so after that ]
got up as many parties as ] could to
visit the tavern to cheer him up. One
day towards autumn, two years ait.
erwards, he called me aside and said
Mister, its gettin, kind o. lonesome
for the dog an me down here winters,
an | guess | won't stay here no longer
after the fall. I've got house as
took over in the village ashore yon,
der, near to where the little girls
buried The dog an l wants to be
near Maggie an if yer'll come down
of an on we'll be glad 20 see yer, for
it amt much company we'll be
havIn'."
Well, Uncle Jake took the house and
i did go down as often as could. He
made things right comfortable in the
little house. On the cold winter
nights he had a big log fire blazing on
the open hearth and a kettle OF hot
water for the punch singing cheerily
over the flames In front was q bic
woolly rug on which the dog stretched
himself, rising only occasionally to
come over to his master and lick his
hands. The old dog had learned
the way to the "little girls
grave very soon, and on days
when it was too stormy for the
old man to go to it himself, Samson
would trot off and see that all was at
rights.
The blazing logs and the singing ket.
tie seemed particularly CHEEKY on
January night. A fierce wind was
bowling around the house. 1t had
been showing all day, but as it grew
colder the snow had stopped, and now
the gusts sent icy particles rattling
against the windows. The dog seemed
sleeping peacefully-at least he hadn't
stirred-when Uncle Jake went to the
hearth to lift the kettle. The old man
had brewed a punch, and was just
raising the glass to his lips, when sud.
denly Samson sprang toward one OF
the windows with a furious bark. As
| turned in the direction in which he
sprang, what saw might have been
an illusion, it vanished so quickly-a
mans face, pale, haggard and driven,
presse against the pane. A moment
later the dog was leaping against the
door. | sprang toward it and threw
it open. The fierce gust that swept IN
nearly threw me back, but held on
and saw the black figure of the dog
speeding toward the gate where he
stopped, still barking furiously as he
tried to overlap it. | called him
back, but he would not come, and
there he remained barking for half an
hour after j had closed the door. /
told Uncle Jake that thought man
had been out there, but all he said
was: 81 guess it was one o. them
tramns as comes around. Samson