The Madisonian. (Virginia City, Mont.) 1873-1915, 1895-08-03

ground, drew out his knife and began to
carve in the bark Of the tree. This
caused the beech great pain. but she
held as still as a wall.
"What is that to be-" asked the
maiden.
IA heart with your name and mine,"
answered Hans as he continued to carve.
When the work was finished, they
both looked at it, we'll pleased, and the
tree was as happy as if a king had hung
a golden chain upon her.
Truly, men are splendid people,"
thought she.
Now the hunter began to sing. The
tree had listened many times to tho
song Of the inch and thrush, but she
heard now Tor the first time something
very different from bird songs.
Listen. Hans" said the girl when
the hunter paused in his song. "Your
song reminds me Of something. I know
people say-that in the autumn you
go secretly into the woods for game. Let
the poaching go. The forester is your
enemy. You know why. and if he
should meet you poaching in the woods,
then-haavens! my Hans! if you should
be brought to me with q bullet through
your breast"
The young man bent over the girl,
who leaned c~aressingly on his shoulder
and kissed her lips.
People talk too much. Don't believe
everything they say, sweetheart" And
putting his arm around her they went
singing through the forest.
When the couple disappeared among
the trees, a man in hunters dress crept
from the bushes. He carried his gun on
his back and q knife in his belt. His
face was white and distorted. He went
up to the beech tree and beheld the
heart that Hans had carved. He laughed
wildly and drew out his knife to destroy
the writing, then, changing his mind,
he thrust the blade again in it's sheath.
Shaking his fist threateningly in the d.
section where the couple had disap-
peared, he muttered, grinding his teeth,
"Lf l meet you, you poacher, only once
on forbidden ground, you will have
heard the cuckoo sing for the last time"
With these words he went into the
woods.
And the tree shook her head sadly.
The beech tree got many a sight of
the faces Of the children of men in the
course Of the summer-the poor women
gathering leaves Or dry bark, the berry
p~ickers, foresters and pilgrims. But the
most cherished amid the guests who
gathered under her leafy roof were the
youth and brown haired maid. They
made weekly visits to her, spoke of their
love, embraced each other, and day by
day the beech tree came to love them
more.
One morning before sunrise, when
the mountains were just casting off their
gray mist caps, Hans came alone. He
carried a gun on his shoulder and STEP
ped as lightly through the underbrush
as If he would take his sweetheart by
surprise. This time his coming had
nothing to do with lovely Eva-but the
stag comes this way to drink!
At the foot of the tree the hunter
paused and stood as motionless as the
beech herself. The cool morning wind
blew, and the mist disappeared in heavy
clouds. The gay birds f1uttered and sang
about the stream. The underbrush rus
tied. Hans raised his gun. A shot rang
out on the clear air. Hans dropped his
gun, sprang convulsively into the air
and fell to the ground. A man strobe
hastily from the thicket with d smoking
gun in his left hand. The beech tree
knew him we'll. The huntsman bent
over the murdered man. cit is all over
with him., he said, and taking his gun
he vanished into the bushes.
The bright sun rose and shone upon
still form with set white face. Sorrow.
fully the tree bent over and wept bite,
tears, and the little robins few up and
covered the dead face and staring eye
with leaves and twigs. In the afternoon
some woodcutters came that way anG
found the body.
"He has been shot while poaching,
they said, and taking him gently up they
bore him to the distant valley. An ole
man fingered by the tree. He drew hi
knife and carved a cross over the heart
that Hans had made. Then he took of
his hat and breathed a prayer. Thu
leaves Of the green crest rustled, for thu
tree prayed, too, in her own way.
For many summers on the anniversary
of the death of the murdered man, thu
maiden came to the seat, knelt dow1
and wept and prayed. and every tim'
she was paler, more fragile. One day
she did not come, and the tree murmur
ed, "She is dead p and so it was.
Years passed. The beech had become
q mighty tree. Her bark was covered
with brown moss. The wild vines clus