St. Paul daily globe. [volume] (Saint Paul, Minn.) 1884-1896, 1893-11-26

man. Walking Prairie, whom the buff
falo hunters had reported having seen
IN an Indian camp on the banks of the
Nannescah. She felt sure-what was it
gave her such certainty, was it a moth
erS intuitive love or what?-that the
young man was none other than her
own son.
Three years before, Jim Huskins, a
sturdy lad of seventeen, had gotten into
an alteration with his father. 1t was
about most trivial affair. The former
had reprimanded him. and when Jim,
singing under the unjust rebuke. as he
considered it, administered by his
father, had replied insuIltingly, his
father had promptly physically chas-
tised the boy.
dad" the lad had told his father. Pm
boy in years, but haint going to get
licked these days, any more"
That night, without saying word to
anybody, without even kissing his
mother goodbye, Jim Huskins left his
home and started alone, penniless, over
the boundleSS praIrieS. The mystic
sounds of the night chirp of crickets,
Shrlll Whirr of cicadaS Ill the tall grasses
and the lulling sounds of myriads of in
Sects brought strange feeling of desc
lation ever the heart Of the boy wander
er only intensified by the bright glow of
the beautiful stars shining i'll the cloud
less sky above. How near they seemed
10 him. yet bow far! Time and again
he was OIL the point of retracing his
steps. but his pride held him back. and
on and OH he pressed.
He licked me, licked me,a grown up
man." he said to himself.
hn fr.nrf hTtC hn ~ nm
tell? When the morning sun peeped
over the eastern horizon, making every
dew sparkle like diamond gems from
the tall blue grass stems, jim was miles
from home. He could not even have
told them in what direction home lay.
He arose. On all sides was prairie
swellS rolling endlessly to the horizon
lost in the sky. Not even lonely tree
to break the monotony Of the dull land
scape. No one who has never expert
enced such a situation can realize the
feeling of desolatlon that sweeps over
one at such hours. 1t is crnshing-even
to the hardened frOntiersman. Care
fully scanning the horizon, jim at last
thought he saw thin streak of smoke
laZily drifting just above the horizon
like long purple ribbon far off to the
southwest.
The wind had suddenly ceased, and
dusk was fast approaching. Farmer
Husklns had hauled three ricks full of
straw against the stable where he kept
his stock. Really il seemed more coy
inside that place than it did inside the
house. Kansas stables in those DAYS
were not elaborate, artistic affairs. A
frame work of cottonwood poles for a
roof, strung up on fOrked posts. corn
stalks for straw support, and that was
all. AT harvest time the wheat and rye
were stacked conveniently near, and
when threshIng time came ali the straw
was dumped over the skeleton frame
work. And there was your barn.
Its comm, Pete" he said to the
hired man. Reckon it kin blow now,
we're in purity good shape. eh?'
Not breath of air was stirring. a
few feathery flakes were falling, but
they came so rare that one could hardly
tell. The men washed their hands at
the big tub outside. More flakes were
falling by this time, and there was just
the faintest rust!ing in the sere corn
Ordinarily there was always plenty to
tell at that meal; the farmer generally
liked to take his time and he would in
variably talk of his days work; the
people he had halted and talked TO from
the roadside. But tonight all were
strangely silent. Ragland's news,
somehow, had cast a gloomy shadow
over the little home. Mrs. Huskins was
thinking of Walking Prairie; the farmer
was recalling that day again in memory
when in moment of anger he had
struck his boy.
Love him Farmer Huskins would
have given ten. yea twenty years of
his life, to have recalled that occur
renee.
"Oh. look at the snow, mammal little
Sis cried.
The air was full now of the falling
snow. A light breeze was also blowing;
but it was from the east. Within two
hours Farmer Huskins we'll knew the
wind would shift TO the northwest.
Then it would get cold; the snow would
begin to drift and in a very short time
the air would he full Of the hard frozen
little crystals. Then would tie biz
Zard be i'll its fury. 1t is not the snow