Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1892-12-29
CHAPTER ".
DEAD OR ALIVEI

Like q curtain, q SnfOuC, 1T ndu ClOS0u
about the devoted form Of Edna Deane
that wild, tempestuous night, when the
poor child OF destiny had sunk ex-
hausted and despairing at the very
threshold of safety.
The siren-hearted Beatrice Mercer
had sped to sunshine, luxury and gold,
with no thought Of the real fate Of the
girl whose name she had assumed,
whose loyal lover she had determined to
win.
More merciful than she, the soft snow
had drifted gently over the inanimate
wanderer. striving to shut out from the
rigor of storm and tempest the frall
form that had succumbed to the chill OF
winter like tender lily.
Upon that same eventful night another
figure braved the storm, and breasting
it's ferceness. took his way along the
same road, down which Edna Deane's
dumb guide had SO nearly led her to
shelter.
"A night to get housed. I pity the
homeless or belated!" breathed hearty,
putting John Blake, as he struggled
through the deep drifts. "Ah! nearly
home. There's the dear old wife wait
ing to welcome me with a warm sup
per, I'll warrant"
Farmer John neared the unpreten
tious cottage that reSembled a Lapland-
er's hut, with it's caves hung deep with
snow festoons. A doleful neigh from
the wagon shed aroused his humane
heart, however, to turn from his path.
He found there the exhausted animal
that had led Edna hither, bestowed the
wandering brute in it's STALL and started
again for the house.
"Ho, there, my dear!" sang out the
bluff, great-hearted old fellow, as he
made up huge SNOWFALL and sent it six
feet away dashing against the door of
the cottage.
1t opened. An eager, motherly face
showed in the lamplight.
Dear, dear! Is it you, John? I've
been so worried. Always boy, throw
ing snowballs and singing out like a pi-
rate. Will you never mend!"
Never while this jolly snow reminds
mo of our schoolday sIeighrides, and
your pretty, blooming face, you dear old
grill" retorted happy John Come,
throw me u broom to beat d path, so [
won't be dragging the snow all over that
rag carpet you think more OF than you
do OF me.
Did you everl"
Been lonesome?" sang out John, in
dustriously sweeping q path to the door.
"Terrible Did you just come, John?"
Did [ just come! You wager | haven
been promcn&ling around for fun, with
snow chuck two Teet down my neck, and
thai nice warm supper on the tablet"
Because thought l heard some one
cry out Il bit ago"
pigeons, maybe.
mo. 1t was d human cry for help
"Pshaw Fancies. The wind toots
like an enginc-w whistle -nisht--lawsy
mel"
Farmer John uttered sharp cry,
stumbled, recoiled. Tne broom fell
from his hand, and there ne stood star
Ing blankly down at the ground at his
feet.
What now, john" calculated his
wife, peering, too.
Something in tn path. Bag OF oats
u sheep--nol Jane. look"
He had leaned over to examine the
object at his feet.
His great, soulful eyes glowed like
two stars.
Into view he had dragged human
hand, limp and nerveless.
Soggy dress sleeve followed and
then a terrible cry rang from his wife's
lips.
Out into the snow she dashed. Down
beside the inanimate form, disenshroud
ed from it's snowy mound, she knelt
John! joint" she walled, peering in
to the white, cold face of the insensible
Edna Deane-"it's woman-a young
girl. Oh John! look at the bonny face,
and the quick tears rained down in wild,
motherly pity. "oh, John! dead Or alive
which,"