The Sunday morning news., 1891-02-22
MOUNTAIN DREAM.
The Tragic Adventure Of an Artist Or
the Wild Mexican Frontier
BY JOSEPHINE A. BOWEN.


not bothered nor my privacy lngruoed
upon. But one day as sat busily paint
ing / heard step, a soft rustic and
looked up to see vision in my door
way. A young girl, but little more than
is years Of age, stood there with her
hand resting upon tho head of great
mastiT dog. The sight was so unex-
pected that for moment I thought Of
optical illusions aud rubbed my eyes,
expecting the picture to vanish; but
instead, it advanced, and the dog came
and poked his cold nose into my hand,
asking, after the manner OF his kind, for
notice and caresses. As for his mistress,
she stood looking about her as child
might have done, and indeed she was
but little more.
Have you lost your way9' asked her
gently.
..Oh. no. sir" she said with faint
smile. knight and never get lost.
Do we, KRightT
At the mention of his name the dog
turned and stood by her, and was glad
TO see that he would indeed be a reck-
less man who would dare molest her.
.sWill you sit down and restg asked,
pushing one of my two camp stools to-
ward her.
Knight and never get tired, do we,
Knight" she asked; but she sat down
and put her arm around the dogs neck.
EDO you live hereg' she asked.
replied that / did, and fell to won
dering where the child could have strayed
from. She now caught sight of my work
and drew near me with wonder in her
eyes,
s'You must be like God, !" she said. 'sto
make mountains and canyons like that,
"You give me greater praise than
deserve said; "but here are some more
pictures will you look at themr''
! turned them for her, and it was a
strange sensation to watch her face, filed
as it was with wonder and awe
ssDo you like picturesg' asked.
Il never saw any before" she said,
except Black and white ones little
ones, you know, in papers and books. |
| liked them. but thesei Ohr'- She
clasped her hands and saw that she
was trembling. 81 didn't think that any
body in the world could make pictures
like these"
While she looked at them l looked at
her, and my wonder grew as l gazed.
She was a slender little creature, olive
skinned, and with a great mass of dusky
hair gathered into braid which hung
below her waist. Her features were
delicate and regular, her eyes large,
brown and full Of the slumbering fires of
nnawakened womanhood; but her mouth
was the feature that caught and riveted
my attention. 1t was so unchildlike, so
inexpressibly sad in the pathetic curves
of the small red lips.
'sDoes your Knight like pictures?" l
asked, trying to win smile. The faint
est ghost of one crossed her face.
"Yes, he likes whatever like" she
answered. Knight knows as much as
any Of us."
returned to my sketching in some
embarrassment Had she been, indeed,
the child at first supposed, to question
her or amuse her would have been easy;
bat as it was could only await her
pleasure. Presently she came to my
side
'sMy mother used to say" she said
timidly, 'sthat if / prayed to the Holy
Mother Mary she would hear me and
give me what asked for. Do you think
she will"
IT hope SO, with all my heart" I an
swered. shut what do you wish for most
of alls"
ITO make pictures, as you do"
"You sayyour mother used to tell you
SO. Is she, then, no longer Ivings"
ssShe is dead. She died years ago,
when / was little girl, but remember
what she told me. Ny father has an
other wife now. She hes Mexican blood;
she is cruel"
'sNot to your said doubtfully.
"Yes, to me and everybody except
Knight. She is afraid of Knight"
II am glad of that" replied; ''but
surely she cannot hurt you very much
now. You are almost woman and can
defend yourself"
'sShe is large and strong and cruel
She shakes me-" went on the plaintiye
voice.
"But your father surely if he
Knew -
"He knows, but he loves her."
"He loves you, too, ! suppose"
"He hates me" she answered in the
same sad, level voice, 'tand 80 run
away when can and stay all day"
"And when you go homer"
s'They beat me sometimes"
In the interest and sympathy awak-
ened by her confession / forgot my re-
serve.
"What is your name?' asked.
"Carol Cleaves."
"Cleavesl" I sprang to my feet in as
tonishment, for that was the name Of a
notorious outlaw, whose record was
black with crime. And this lovely child,
could it be possible that she claimed
such paternity?
She looked at me wistfully. 81 will
go now," she said.
''Stay moment" entreated, in per-
plexity. Was there no way in which /
could help her? thought rapidly for a
few moments. "Will you come again, y
asked, .'and let me paint picture Of
yea and Knight"
der eyes answered me; such look Of
gloriied surprise came into them. "Oh,