The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1896-07-04
IN SABINE. !.
COPYRIGHT, 1896. BY the Author.l
By KATE CHOPIN,

The sight Of a human habitation,
even if 1t was rude log cabin with a
mud chimney at one end, was very
gratifying one to Gregoire.
He had come out Of Natchitoches
parish and had been riding great part
Of the day through the big lonesome
parish of Sabine. He was not following
the regular Texas road; but, led by his
cratic fancy, was pushing toward the
Sabine river by circuitous paths through
the rolling pine forests.
As he approached the cabin in the
clearing he discovered behind palisade
of pine saplings an old negro man chop
ping wood.
"Howdy, uncle?" called out the
young fellow, refining his horse. The
negro looked up in blank ama8ement at
so unexpected an apparition, but he only
answered, "How you do, subj" accom-
panying his speech by series of polite
mods.
"Who lives yere?"
"Hit's Mas Bud Aiken wat live
heah, sub.
"Well, If Mr.. Bud Aiken kin affo' ad
to hire man to chop his wood, I reckon
he won't grudge me a bite o. supra an
couple hours res on his gall'ry. Wat
you say, ole mani"
ST say dit Mas Bud Aiken don't
hires me to chop 'ood. Eff don't chop
dis heah, his wife got hit to do. Dat wy
I chops cod sub. Go right long in,
sub. You g'ine fine Mas Bud some 'eres
roun eff he amt drunk an gone to bed.
Gregoire, glad to stretch his legs, dis
mounted and led his horse into the small
Enclosure which surrounded the cabin.
An unkempt, vicious looking little Texas
pony stopped nibbling the stubble there
to look mefioiously at him and his fine,
sleek horse as they passed by. Back of
the hut, and running plumb up against
the pine wood, was small ragged speci-
men of cotton field
Gregoire was rather understood, with
a square, well knit figure, upon which
his clothes sat we'll and easily. His cor
duroy trousers were thrust into the legs
Of his boots. He wore a blue flannel
shirt. His coat was thrown across the
saddle. In his keen black eyes had come
puzzled expression, and he tugged
thoughtfully at the brown mustache
that lightly shaded his upper lip.
He was trying to recall when and
under what circumstances he had before
heard the name Of Bud Aiken. But Bud
Aiken himself saved Gregoire the trou-
bic of further speculation on the SUBJ
ject. He appeared suddenly in the small
doorway, which his big body quite
filled, and then Gregoire remembered.
This was the diEeputable SO called
Texan who a year ago had run away
with and married Baptiste Choupic's
pretty daughter, Title Refine, yonder on
bayou Pierre in Natchitoches parish. A
vivid picture of the girl as he remem-
bored her appeared to him. Her trim,
rounded figure; her piquant face, with
the saucy, black coquettish eyes; her
little exacting, imperious ways that had
obtained for her the nickname Of 'Tite
Refine, Little Queen. Gregoire had
known her at the 'Oadian balls that he
sometimes had the hardihood to at
tend.
These pleasing recollections of 'Tite
Refine lent warmth that might other
wise have been lacking to Gregoire's
manner, when he greeted her husband
ST hope fine you well, Mr.. Aiken" "
he exclaimed cordially as he approached
and extended his hand.
"You find me id porely, sub; but
you've got the better O. me, eff may SO
say" Hewas big, good looking brute,
with straw colored horseshoe" mus
taohe quite concealing his mouth and a
several days growth Of stubble Oh his
rugged face He was fond of reiterating
that women's admiration had wrecked
his life, quite forgetting to mention the
early and sustained influence of s'Pike' $
Magnolia and other brands, and quite
ignoring certain Unborn propensities
capable Of wrecking unaided any ordi-
nary existence. He has been lying down
and looked frouzy and half asleep
EFF I mag so say, you've got the bet
ter o. me, Mr-er"-
'Santien-Gregoire Santien. have
the pleasure O. KNOWN the lady you
married, sub, an think met you befo'
somew ere o. MOTHER" Gregoire added
vaguely.
"Oh," drawled Aiken, waking up,
Zone o. them Red river Sanchunsr' And
his face frightened at the prospect be-
fore him OF enjoying the society of one
of the Santien boys Mortimer he
called In ringing chest tones worthy a
commander at the head Of his troops
The negro had rested his ak and appear
ed to be listening to their talk, though
he was too far to hear what they said.
Mortimer, come along here an take
my frien, Mr.. Sanchun's, boss. Git a
move thar, git mover Then, turning
toward the entrance of the cabin, he
called back through the open door,
'sRaini'' Itwas his way Of pronouncing
'Tite Reine's name. RAMP he cried
again peremptorily, and, turning to
Gregoire, ''She's tendin to some or 9TH
er housekeepin truck" Title Refine was
back IN the yard feeding the solitary pig
which they owned, and which Aiken
had rnySteriorSlv driven nm n few DAVIS