The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1894-03-08

more familiar to her, the little maiden
lost much of her shyness and constant
ly accompanied her brothers, who Of
ten went with us in our inland expedi-
tions.
From the first she had shown de-
cided preference for my society, follow
ing me about like shadow.
l had found it a simple matter to win
her childish regard-a handful of shells,
picked up during my rambles and
added to her store; the gift of gaudv
scarf, at which she had gazed longing
ly as it hung in the window of the sim
| gle shop the place boasted-these Sc
cured ready passport to her favor. 1
afterward had cause to be thankful
that did these trifiing acts of kindness
that made her my friend.
One morning my wife and nine-year-
old daughter, Lillian, arrived uncx-
pectedly via the small steamer Falcon,
| that made occasional trips from San
| Pedro to the island.
What foolish freak brought you to
| Catalina, my dear?' I asked as we
watched from the hotel veranda the
antics of Lily and Mercedes, who were
already fast friends.
why foolish?" she queried, de-
murely.
"A woman's answer, truly! To-mor-
row am to leave these snug quarters
and go into camp a dozen miles away;
what then is to become of your LADY,
ship?"
MY ladyship will go likewise" she
replied, smiling.
Remember" l argued, "that the
burro is the only means of inland trans
portation, the trail is dangerous if one
is not used to riding, and you will find
these cool nights very uncomforta BILE
in camp" But the spirit of adventure
was rife. Lily clamored to go, and l
finally gave in.
During our conversation Mercedes
had remained silent, but | noted the
wistful look in her eyes,
Il think Mercedes would like to go
with us" said l.
No doubt it would be treat for
her, poor girl" my wife responded.
Come here, little one" beckoning the
child to a seat by her side ''Do you
never get lonely here by yourself?"
| "Ah, no, sonora! have always this, :"
stretching out her hands with tender
gesture toward the sea. 1t had mur-
INJURED her cradle lullaby, and she knew
and loved its varying moods.
Then there are many people here in
Summer, and often they speak with me;
when they come no more l gather my
| c nd hal 70
Have you no playmates?"
81 had a sister once-she died."
softly.
II will be your sister, Mercedes"
cried Lily, impulsively.
$50 you shall, DEAR" said 1. ,"Ah!
there is Pacheco home ward bound with
a fine string of fish," and waylaying
the child's father, told him our plans
respecting Mercedes, to which he gave
ready consent.
There was quite gathering of ma
tives about the hotel in the morning to
wish US "Buenos dias" as our cavalcade
set out, led by Mexican Joe, vener-
able islander, who was to act in the ca
pacity of cook and general utility man.
We were to make the trip by easy
stages, stopping over night at the In
dian mounds, place l had long con-
templated visiting.
Joe assured me that he knew the
mound locality. well, and confident that
a rich harvest would reward the dill
gent explorer-for stone implements,
beads, bits of wampum, and even the
skulls and bones of departed warriors
had been unearthed by the ISLANDERS
| added pick and shovel to our cam p
ing outfit.
The trail, following the coast, was
ascending and sometimes wound peril
ously near the edge of the cliff. Look
ing down hundred feet or more, one
could see the foaming breakers dash
ing on the rocks below. rythlng
delighted the children; they laughed
and chatted and sang until we caught
their merry mood, and a gay party we
were, indeed. .
The sun was high in the heavens
when we arrived at the mounds, so,
with appetites made keen by the long
ride in the bracing morning air, we set
about preparing the midday meal. Old
Joe lilnped away to gather frewood;
my wife summoned the children, who
were culling the golden poppies that
grew in profusion along the cliffs edge,
to help unpack the lunch, while |, jug
in hand, made for canyon near by in
search of water. l found trickling
stream dripping from the moss-clad
powders, and the jug was soon filled.
1t might have been fifteen minutes be.
fore l left the canyon; as soon as came
in sight of camp l knew that some
thing was amiss. Old Joe ran toward
me, shouting and motionlng wildly; on
the verge of the cliff l saw my wife
kneeling, Mercedes beside her, but
where was Lily?
In an instant realized the worst
Lily had fallen from the cliff. My
brain reeled with the horror of the
thought, and I called to my wife be-
seeching her to leave that awful place.
Why did she still kneel and gaze down
upon the mangled form lying on the
cruel rocks?