Democratic Northwest. [volume] (Napoleon, Ohio) 1869-1894, 1886-04-29

And through II al the fear Of Indians hung
over her; the leaat noise, or the shadow Of a
eIopd would makc her start.
So the long day wore away. bot with night
came freshfear. The sick man sank into a
kind Of stupor. and poor Elsie sat by the
window listening 70 bis labored breathing.
and 1fsncyins every noise Of the summer
might the dreaded Indians at last. u was
terrible 10 sit there In the silent house all
alone, save that quiet figure on the bed that
only frightened Elsie the more, for the
thought Of being alone with death was terri
BILE to the sensitive girl. and she feared that
any moment this strange, unnatural sleep
might give place to that long sleep that
knows no waking.
Sothe night wore along, and. when at last
poor Elsie sank into sleep of exhaustion,
the first faint light of dawn shone in ON the
young face that rested heavily on the window
sill. It was young face, sweet face, franz
ed by'a mass Of sunny curls, but lines of care
were already to be seen around the chiIdlike
mouth, and the young shoulders were bent a
little with over work.
Once she stirred q little in her sleep, and
the word mother passed her lips. Then
she smiled and slept again. When she awoke
it was broad daylight, and the sick man lay
looking at her.
"You are bettery' cried Elsie gladly.
Yes" heanswered in faint voice, ssbut
so weak. II could only eat something, /
should be better.n
II can make you some porridge," cried
Elsie eagerly. Perhaps you could eat that" !"
She.went out and MIXED pitcher Of milk
from the gentle COW, then built a fire and
soon returned to the sick room bearing a
bowl Of steaming milk porridge. The stranger
drank iteagerly and seemed much refreshed.
Thank you, !" he said, '1that is good"
Elsie looked pleased and said simply:
Mother used to like it when she was sick.n
Where is your mother?' asked the man,
and regretted the question moment later,
for Elsis's lips trembled and the tears stood
in her eyes, as she answered:
My mother is dead"
And what is your name, child!r asked the
sick man, more to take her thoughts from
what 50 evidently distressed her, than from
idle curiosity.
Elsie Rodman.''
The stranger started. "Your fathers
name?'
"Joseph Rodman,n : answered the girl, sur
prised at his interest.
''Do you know who I am?'' he asked, a
smile breaking over his wan face.
mo-" said Elsie, wonderingly.
'sCharles Hinsdale.,'
my uncle Charliel'' cried Elsie, surprise
and joy in her tone
MY dear little niece!'' said the stranger,
now stranger no longer, and the sunken eyes
were dim with tears.
There were two happy hearts that day In
the little lonely cabin on the prairie, though
MIR. Hinsdale was saddened by the news of
bis sisters death. He had not even heard of
the death of Elsie's father.
Il am q different man from what used to
be,n be said to Elsie, "and was on my way
back to make up that foolish quarrel with
your father and to see my sister, and now it
is too late" s
But to Elsie this strange meeting brought
nothing but happiness, and now in her beau
tiful prairie home, surrounded by love and
care, she seldom thinks of those days Of
terror, known as the "Indian scare"
PHEBE FIELD.