Pittsburg dispatch. [volume] (Pittsburg [Pa.]) 1880-1923, 1889-03-03

Victor laughed in his soft way as he crept
down into the little cabin to obey orders.
Orton buttoned his rough Jacket close
and drew his broad-brimmed hat low over
his ewes in anticipation Of a row against the
wind, which was beginning to freshen from
the northwest. Indeed it was a finely in
vigorating experience, that breasting of the
sweet, sharp breath from the resinous woods
and wide salt marshes of the Wolf river and
Jordan river countries.
The skif into which Orton and Victor
had bestowed themselves with the young
mans baggage and sketching outfit was a
slight affair, and the Creole's lusty oar
strokes set it fairly bounding over the
sparkling water. The course led them
through a long curve around Magnolia
Point, giving broken glimpses of the Rochon
house, with its dull drab walls and peaked
roof withdrawn in a soft crepuscular gloom
which was shot through here and there by
fine lines of glowing sunlight.
A person looking from the shore must
have felt the effect of the animated bit of
life and color afforded by the skiff and its
crew. Victor's red shirt and Orton's blue
Jacket shone gaiIy, and the artists yellow
curls contrasted effectively with the black
unkempt locks of the Creole. Then what a
background; all the wide bay rolling free
before the breeze and the dark, troubled
masses of the woods on the other shore, had
caught the full midmorning glow and SHIN
mer Southwark along the horizon line
some tall ships under full sail were bowling
on their way, and flights of pelicans, ducks
and geese made the high air palpitant with
their wings.
Some one on shore did see the skiff, and
did watch it with curious ewes. Gaspard
Rochon stood at the extreme point of the
1i+T1a haod nd upar biS bousa and xrifb hiS
sturdy legs wide apart, his heavy hand
shading his strong dark face, and his cap
set well back on his grizzled head, gazed at
tentively.
''Voilal yonder! see!'' exclaimed Victor
eagerly, mo 'sieu Rochon standing on the
high place; you see him?'
Yes, Orton saw with a thrill in acknowl-
edgement of the figures bold outlines and
picturesque attitude. He took up a small
field glass, and, justifyIng it, surveyed with
increasing interest thai burly and hirsute
lord of the land whose dreadful deeds and
dark ways Victor has been so fond of des-
scribing.
"You look at him mighty well now, -
said the Creole in his glib patois, ''for he's
worth looking at, is Mo'sieu Rochon. 1
tell you that you might as well keep shy OF
him and the Nam 'zelle, certainly, il you
don't like trouble. Bad as a shark, he is,
and the Man 'zelle, She
Just then Orton showed signs of having
discovered something new. The Creole
rested a moment on his oars and gazed. A
second figure had come forth from the
magnolia grove and was approaching the
spot where stood Rochon. 1t was tall girl,
probably IS, simply clad in gown of gray
stuff with q futter of dark red ribbons here
and there; she was supple and graceful
nl
that her face, shaded by wide palmetto
hat, was charmingly sweet in its expression.
There was little time for this exchange of
inspection, as the tide was nearly to the
turn, and Victor, resuming the oars, pulled
vigorously, soon sending the skiff past the
point and on to the mouth of the bayou.
''What did say?'' he exclaimed as he
rowed, 81 told you how that man looked
like a great savage bear, and how the
Nam 'zelle she looked like lily. Did you
see? Mo- Dieu, but what scowl on his
ugly old facet and she; did you see how
pretty she is?''
To this and much more Orton made no
response. The spell of the place was upon
him. This was his first experience in the
South; his home was in the far North, where
life had nothing in it to prepare one for
what one met in this strange out-of-the-way
nook of the sub-tropic, and besides, Orton
had been made peculiarly impressible by
the unusual and vIvidly romantic stories of
Victor.
Now, as the house and the grove and the
two figures on Magnolia Point passed from
his vision into memory, sense of immense
distance from the real world took possession
OF him. 1t was as though he had found a
little region, detached from earth, set in a
space of its own and filled with the atmos-
phere and the colors of dreams, very para
disc for the artist who longs for what is not
commonplace. He felt that very soon some
adventures and experiences must make a
memorable impress upon him and probably
affect the whole current Of his life. He was
ready for this, even eager, for he was at
that age and of the temperament which de-
mands a fair share of the melodramatic and
the strongly colored. He would not have
objected to q little of the tragic and the ter
rible as a condiment, for there was fight
ing strain in his blood just strong enough
to make him venturesome and courageous
to degree.
A mile or two up the bayou they came to a
rude wharf of timber, near which fishing
smack was moored to a stake, driven into
the marsh mud. Back few PAGES on the
other shore in the midst of scuppernong
vines and orange trees, now beginning to
bloom, stood low, rambling house of many
rooms, built partly of logs and partly of
rough boards. and surrounded by a gallery
or rude colonnade, over which clambered
Cherokee rose vine thickly covered with its
snowy flowers. Behind the structure stood
q huge ive-oak tree, whose arms, so feet
long, spread out a heavy mass of moss-fes-
tooned sprays, completely overshadowing
the irregular roof.
Here Orton was to have his home for a
time, having set out from New Orleans with
this purpose in view. Victor, whose little
schooner he had chartered, described the
place to him in glowing colors as an ideal
center from which radiated ali the paths
that an artist and sportsman could desire
to follow.
A thin, swarthy man, with a high eagle
nose and deep-set black ewes, met them on
the wharf. Victor made him known to Or
ton as M'sieu Edouard Garcin, the proprie-
tor of the place, whereupon he gave the ar
tist most profuse welcome and led the way
into the house, while two or three negroes
busted themselves with Orton's baggage and
sketching materials, bringing them to the gal
lery, and, depositing them in heap on the
floor, where lounged four or five deer
hounds.
Come cen, come cen, mex oose'f at
'ome, " said the host trying hard to speak
very good English. ''Glad see 90, Mistoo
Orton; ver' proud of 90 kindness ven 90
come at my 'ouse dees time"
The room was ample, with low ceiling, a
wide fireplace and small windows The
furniture was, to Orton's surprise, of heavy
carved mahogany, table, chairs, clock and
bedstead, costly and beautiful. In one cor
ner lay curious old guitar.
CHAPTER III.
LALIE GARCIN.
Victor, who was in great hurry to re-