Omaha daily bee., 1896-11-01
CHAPTER VI
HOW | CAME TO THE SHEPHERD OF ST.
CROIX.

CROIX.
The October wind carried the scurryng
rain in sheets about the rock where | was.
Watching the ship light, l presently saw 1t
move. then vanish into the darkness in
which | probably saw better because my
Dyes had been bandagCd. | shivered ana
felt weak indeed after all had been
through. | roso to my feet. chattering like
man with fever for a flash OF intolera-
bio heat followed. | half decided to remain
thore and die and have the htful struggle
over, and then a repulson at death took
my heart, and | began to walk inland over
the unwooded fields that seemed to stretch
to the waters edge. AS / strOde on the
stiffness left my muscles and despite the
rain a glow that was better than the turn
of feverish heat had had. Yet l was in
bad plight, for | felt weak enough, even If
might feel stronger for a slight use Of
the muscles. | had stumbled on in this
manner. the noise OF the surf becoming
every moment less, when l had an illusion
of a lighting OF the sky, like the dstant
glare on low clouds of a towns lights
l often have heard persons who have beer
long in the dark OF a storm at night speak
OF this same phenomenon. For really
saw nothing of the kind. 1t being merely
an effect. binding darkness on the eyebals
and my low vitality. Yet presently, stun
bling over the uneven ground, a point O!
light appeared that at first | took to be
part of the same phantasmagoria. But 1t
persisted in presenting that welcome sign
at one spot, until suddenly | brought close
up on a low, rambling building when a dog
barked The light now was outlined fit
fully. as IL froG' o lire, and throwing back
the door without asking of your leave,
was blinded by some burning peat on
hearth. A collie sprang toward me, when
querulous voice called. ana he skunk back
The owner of the voice was a rough figure
in a sheepskin. kneeing. the faring fame
revealed. before a cruCifX and without
turning to make question OF me, beyond
calling back the dog. | stepped forward
when the heat of the place left me faint,
and | sank down in heap before the fire.
When | came to myself it was in this
same interior lying on some sheepskins
on the floor one thrown over me, a very
disappearing man with a tangle OF white
beard reading from a little red book by
single candle stuck in rude stick, the
collie that had announced me snoring as
an old dog will before tho fame.
"Where am -" I asked.
The man looked at me moment. when he
answered in a patois l seemed to under
tand:
with the shepherd of st. crox."
"Laudes."
"France?"
"Gascony."
"Where are you from, friend?" He spoke
as We were equals.
1.-THE sea-"
"You were near perishing in the storm"
he answered, looking me over curiously, and
! even then the wind shook the place.
| saw he thought me mad and suddenly IL oc-
| CURED to me my story would not be be.
! lieved-no part of It. ! who had disappeared
/ in New York now was in France. But the
! nature of my disappearance would be be-
! lieyed by no one People would say that
| | had wandered away when temporarily in
! sane Probably my disappearance had been
! noted in the American papers but as | had
! a habit OF going away on long Journeys
! without announcing my intention my friends
might not be without hope of my ultimate
| return. But certainly no one would or in
| deed could, believe that | had had the ad-
venture which really had brought me to this
! portion Of the French coast. My abductors
! had made the occurrence OF such a kind
| that they could deny absolutely the mere
! evidence of my lips. a week ago men had
! envied me, and here my power was taken
! away, and | was no more than a puppet In
| others hands. Lying there | saw suddenly
the futility of all power; | felt the mockery
OF life, which puts us all some time, on the
! same democratic plane
"The Christ sent you TO me-" said the
man, turning to me- and saw in his eyes
the look of the rapt enthusiast
did he2" said |.
DO not mock man" said the other
speaking now in Partisan French. 81 came
here to live with the sheep on the moors
because my life was a failure"
81 thank you, friend" said I. Plainly
must gain his favor, For | found that my
captor, or captors, had left me neither
money nor papers. | must have somc way
OF explaining, l thought how difficult Il
would be when every consular office wai
besieged by mendicants with strange
stories. And so. began 10 curry the favol
OF him. who called himself the shepherd o.
st. CroiN.
or him I never knew save that as he hat
said he had fed the world. Perhaps Ia,
clergyman OF the living OF ST. Croix knew
But :or me- he has always been a vague
mystary-a heart that was kind out OF re-
lgious devotion. a mind that had becoIn,
attunod to the silences and the noises OF tn,
moors--to q sympathy with the shosp. ever