The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1896-07-04

Illleu w I'LL LILO &ISWhuluo NOISES Gldt H.
habit southern forest at night time
'Ain't you 'fraid sometimes yere,
'Tite Reine?" Gregoire asked, as he felt
q light shiver run through him at the
weirdness of the scene.
NO." she answered promptly. 81 ent
fred O. nothin cep' Bud"
'sThen he treats you mean? I thought
sop
''Mista Gregoire, drawing close to
him and whispering in his face, Buds
KILN me- He clasped her arm, hold
ing her near him, while an expression
of profound pity escaped him.
Nobody don't know, 'cep Urc' Nor
timer" she went on. 81 tell you, he
beats me- My back an alms-you ought
to see-it's all blue. He would O. choke
me to death one day W en- he was drunk
if Unc' Mortimer hadn't make i'm lef'
go, with his OK ov' his head. Gregoire
glanced back over his shoulder toward
tho room where the man lay sleeping.
He was wondering if it would really be
a criminal act to go then and there and
shoot the top of Bud Aiken's head off,
He himself would hardly have consider
ed it crime. but he was not sure Of
how others might regard the act.
'"That's wy Iwake you up, to tell
you,'' she continued. "Then some time
he plague me mos crazy. He tell me
tent no preacher, it's Texas drum
mer wat marry him an me, an Wen I
don't know W at way to turn no mo- he
say, No, it's Meth dis archbishop
an keep on laughin bout me, an don't
know vat the truth''
Then again she told how Bud had in
duced her to mount the vicious little
mustang Buckeye, knowing that the lit
tie brute wouldn't carry woman, and
how it had amused him to witness her
distress and terror when she was thrown
to the ground.
eff I would know how to read an
write an had some pencil an paper, it's
long go Iwould wrote to my papa But
it's no pos Office, it's no relroad--nothin
in Sabine
AN you know, Mr.. Gregoire, Bud
say he's goin carry me yonda to Vernon
an flu Their off yet-way yonda-an he's
goin turn me loose Oh, DON leave me
yere Mista Gregoire! Dom leave me
behine youp' she entreated, breaking
once more into sobs.
little Refine, ''Che answered, "do you
think I'm such a low down scound ell as
to leave you yere with that He fin
ished the sentence mentally, not wishing
to offend the ears of 'Tite Refine.
They talked on good while after
that. She would not return to the room
where her husband lay. The nearness of
a friend had already emboldened her to
inward revolt. Gregoire induced her to
lie I. Jwn and rest upon the quilt that
she had given to him for bed. She did
SO, and, broken down by fatigue, was
soon fast asleep
He staid seated on the edge of the gal
lery and began to smoke cigarettes,
which he rolled himself of perique to-
bacco.' He might have gone in and
shared Bud Aiken's bed, but preferred
to stay there near Title Refine He
watched the two horses, tramping slow
ly about the lot, cropping the dewy wet
tufts of grass.
Gregoire smoked on. He only stopped
when the moon sank down behind the
pine trees and the long deep shadow
reached out and enveloped him. Then he
could no longer see and follow the filmy
smoke from his cigarette, and he threw
it away. Sleep was pressing heavily
upon him. He stretched himself full
length upon the rough bare boards Of
the gallery and slept until daybreak.
Bud Aiken's satisfaction was very
genuine when he learned that Gregoire
proposed spending the day and another
night with him. He had already recog-
nized in the young creole spirit not al
together uncongenial to his own.
Title Refine cooked breakfast for
them. She made coffee. OF course there
was no milk to add to it, but there was
sugar. From meal bag that stood in
| the corner Of the room she took meas
| ure of meal and with it made pone Of
| corn bread. She fried slices of salt pork
| Then Bud sent her into the field to pick
cotton with old Uncle Mortimer The
negrO's cabin was the counterpart of
their own, but stood quite distance
away, hidden in the woods. He and
Aiken worked the crop on shares.
Early in the day Bud produced a
grimy pack Of cards from behind par
Gel Of sugar on the shelf. Gregoire threw
the cards into the fire and replaced them
with spick span new "deck" that he
took from his saddlebags. He also
brought forth from the same receptacle
bottle of whisky, which he presented
to his host, saying that he himself had
no further use for it, as he had "sworn
off, since day before yesterday, when he
had made fool of himself in Cloutier-
vile.
They sat at the pine table smoking
and playing cards all morning, only de-
sisting when lite Refine came to serve
them with the gumbo file that she had
come out of the field to cook at noon.
She could afford to treat guest to
chicken gunbo, for she owned a half
dozen chickens that Uncle Mortimer
had presented to her at various times
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