Crawford avalanche. (Grayling, Mich.) 1879-19??, 1894-12-06

crushed bulwsrls above the Doctors
head, and, as the boat heaved up.
ward on wave, this man slid down
the rope into the boats bows. In a
minute came second, then third
man, each, as he dropped into the
boat, crawling aft. Finally, after an
instant's wait, came q fourth man,
this last one falling helplessly across
the forward thwart and lying there,
doubled up with his head against the
gunwale, Quickly the Doctor raised
him and passed him back to the
stern.
There was pause, then one of the
rescued men called that that was all,
and the steerman's voice as quickly
roared out. LET gol" With fumb-
ling haste the Doctor UNFINISHED the
rope and dropped on his seat and
seized his oar as the boat swung
around, it's bow pointing toward
where the shore lay-toward where
the pillows were racing in great,
tumbled masses of white-capped
green. OF the struggle back to the
beach the doctor realized little be-
sides his physical exertions. Now
that they were returning with their
mission, as it seemed, fulfilled, his
heart was ali with the dear one in
his own little home miles away. He
only knew that it was safely over,
that desperate journey, when score
OF hands seized the whaleboat and
rushed her far up the sands, with her
load yet within her. He heard the
cheers and cries, but somehow they
seemed to come from far off. Then.
as he saw helpless figure carried
from the boat, he recognized that
there was great work to be done,
work which he could do more skill
fully than those around him. And
he climbed from his seat, and, but
toning around him the coat which
was thrown over his shoulders, he
hurried as fast as his stiff legs would
allow, up to the little frame, fishing
shanty where the rescued sailors had
been taken.
Two of the men were sufficiently
strong to need no further aid than
that furnished by the hot drink and
warm blankets already given them.
The third was hardly worse of,
though he was very weak. 1t was
the fourth man, who lay on a pile of
old blanket-covered sails in the cor
ner, to whom the Doctor turned his
attention.
A couple of smoky lanterns had
been lighted to dispel the darkness
which the closed door made in the
small, windowless room. In the
dim light these gave, the doctor bent
over and looked at the figure before
him. 1t was that of young man
of robust frame. The face was
strong, with clean-cut features; a
mass OF curly hair clustered damp
ly about the temples and fore
head. Something in the face made
the doctor give q sudden start; and
the fisherman, who stood by ready to
lend assistance IL it were needed. no
ted a quick pallor come over his face.
He did not, however, see the CLEAN
of wild, but f-believing Joy in
the doctors eyes; and when the
latter bent closer over the figure be-
fore him, and quickly opened the
rough flannel shirt the unconscious
sailor wore, his companion thought
it nothing strange, nor noted the
grasp of the others hand upon the
nearby wall.
The only words the fisherman
said, as the doctor brought his head
up FROM the sailors breast, framed
the question, lis he a-livin?" And
learning that he was, and that it
would be best, perhaps, il the doc
tor were left alone with the rescued
men, the simple fisherman left the
shanty content, and rejoiced to be
able to tell his mates that all was
going we'll.
When he had gone the Doctor deft-
ly wrapped the unconscious sailor in
couple of warm blankets, after
stripping him Of his wet clothing.
Then, having forced few drops Of
liquor between the white lips, he
threw himself down on the floor be-
side the improvised bed and fell to
chatting vigorously the cold hands.
Rolled in their warm blankets the
other three men in the room slept, be-
traying their presence only by their
heavy breathing. They did not see
the pitiful look of longing anxiety
with which the Doctor hung over the
young man. They would not have
understood had they seen it.
But before the Doctors mind there
passed panorama of the past, called
into life by the sight Of that hand
some young face before him. 1t
seemed to him but the other day that
a boy of fifteen, his son, the one child
that had ever called him father,
romped about the place and pleaded
to go to sea. The day when the boy
had disappeared, leaving only a
blotted note of explanation behind
him, was clear in every detail even
now, though it was folly twelve years
ago. Asfor those twelve years they
represented heart-sore period, dur
ing which he and his brave little wife
strove to console each other FOR their |
terrible loss, and waited, with LESSEN
ing hope. despite their courage, for
the return Of the boy in whom they
had bound up so much of their love.
And now, after all those years, to be
so rewarded for that waiting it seemed
to the Doctor scarcely possible. Yet.
had he not the evidence of it before