Wessington Springs herald. (Wessington Springs, Aurora County, Dakota [S.D.]) 1883-1891, 1886-12-31
HER BOATMAN.
By SARA B. ROSE.

Ii was q moonlit night. The river, dark
and sullen, moved in its rocky bed like
some gigantic serpent half overcome by
the lethargy of sleep.
Here and there the moonbeams fell upon
the surface Of the water, great spots of
silvery whiteness, amidst the dark shadows
cast by the heavy foliage of the cedar
shrubbory which grew between the almost
perpendicular rocks Of the high banks.
Fifty feet above the surface of the water
they reared themselves, and at one point
they juued forward as if to salute each
other. while the river beneath them deep
ened ana narrowed.
At this point bridge had once been
thrown across--a bridge which had become
a complete ruin, one timber alone remain
ing to mark the spot, ono long and narrow
beam-it could not have been more than
six inches in width-still maintained its
place, and in mute language informed the
stranger that once there had been connec-
sion between'Roolsy Hill and the mountains
upon The other side.
Upon the surface of the river there was
a small row-boat containing slender
crouchng form wrapped in dark cloak.
From the top of the bank upon either
side this row-boat would have been in
visible. but il was there, making it's way up
and down past the rocky buttress which
upheld tho beam, always avoiding the
moonlit spots upon the river.
The sounds of carousal were usurping
the place of the quiet of the night, the
drunken jest and the coarse laughter
breaking in upon the sentimental notes of
"Home. Sweet Home"-sung, you would
have ayerred, by some lonely youth who
was far from the scenes of his boyhood-
came plainly to the ears of this silent
watcher upon he river, who, it seemed,
could not tear herself away from the sounds
which came from the saloon upon the
rivers bank.
Once only did the moonbeams fall upon
her fair. upturned face.
1t was the fnce of woman who should
never have been in that wild. lonely spot,
listening for the sound of voice which
had grown TO- address her with refined
words which were the cruelest of the cruel,
waiting there upon that lonely river for
she know not what.
Muriel Warner was the daughter OF
wealthy parents. She had married when
very young man whom she had wor-
SHIPPED as the embodiment of manly
worth and the perfection of manly beauty.
Friends and relatives had crowded about
her with envious congratulations, and fol
time her life was perfect happiness.
But change had come. Fred War
ner was not what he had seemed. Only a
few short weeks of happiness and the
handsome husband plunged into the
Widest dissipation. Friends remained to
her as long as the money remained, and
then they began to hint that perhaps
Muriel was not altogether blameless.
This was something which the spirited
wife would not stand. She broke Will
relatives and friends, and chung to the
diesipated man who was her husband.
From one city to another he had dragged
her with him, and now he had deserted
her and she had followed him.
Ellis was the cultivated voice which
warbled of Home, Sweet Home," while his
wife was penniless, half-crazed creature,
out upon the river.
And she acus penniless, for, regardless of
food or shelter, she had paid out her last
cent for the use of the boat which brought
her, unseen, yet nearer to him.
A quick, sharp report broke in upon the
mellow voice of the singer.
1t was repeated again and again.
1t was the report of o revolver. Muriel
could hear the excited shouts, the heavy
trampling of feet the banging of door,
and then the weird cry, "Murder."
Half paralyzed the frightened woman
rested upon her oars just under the beam
which had once belonged to the old bridge.
The sound of heavy feet rapidly ap-
proaching came from the bank close al
hand. and then dark form rushed out be-
tween her and the moonlit sky above her.
1t was mans figure and he was at
tempting to cross the river upon the mar
row beam.
Excited shouts and the tramp of hurried
feet followed him to the rivers brink.
'aStop!" shouted voice. II arrest you
for murder"
No reply came from the escaping figure
(which sped nimbly along its narrow way.
A sharp chorus of revolvers followed;
shot after shot was fred, and then the dark
figure wsvered, the hands grasped wildly
Of the ais. and then there was fall.