The Universalist. [volume] (Chicago [Ill.]) 1884-1897, 1897-03-06

with the words his face grew serious.
The blue goggles, which protected
him from the glare of the sun, were
already upon his eyes, and now Mrs.
Holloway was tying the great fur cap
we'll under his chin. Gloves and
snow-shoes alone remained, and he
must say farewell. He wept like a
child, and at sight of his grief, Har-
rie's tears were dried.
He embraced them all tenderlY,
and then stepped outside and put on
his snow-shoes.
81 must go, dear ones. Goodby,
and God bless your
Away he few over the snow. They
stood and watched him, unable to
speak. At the top of Gothic Noun
tain he stopped for an instant, waved
] his staff in the moonlight, and then
shot out of sight down the other side.
Harrie's tears broke forth afresh, and
even Kate ran away to weep in secret.
The day was long and dreary one.
1t seemed as if light had gone out for
mother and children, though the sun
shone brightly. and neighbors called
with words of cheer, for all knew how
devoted the members of this family
were to one another.
Harrie cried herself to sleep again,
and Mrs. Holloway spent another
waksful night. The morning follow
ing brought fresh courage, however,
for with it came reassuring letter
from Jacks cabin, where Mr.. Hollo-
way rested during the day.
If this had been all
Later in the day group of men
stood near the saloon, glancing occa-
sionally toward the Holloway cottage.
One of them turned finally and came
slowly toward the house. 1t was Mr..
Brown, the ex-minister. Kate and
Harrie saw him coming, and fastened
to greet him. He closed the door,
laid hand on the head of each, and,
contrary to his usual custom, looked
gravely down upon them.
Poor children"
What did it mean?
Mrs. Holloway came in. She saw
change in his face.
"Mr. Brown, what is it," He did
not mislead her.
"A messenger has come down from
Jacks cabin. Boys were there from
the mine for help. Mr.. Holloway
should have reached there by eleven,
but about ten there was the worst
slide of the season from old Badly,
and-my dear woman, it must be
told, and you would prefer that |
should not draw it out?"
''No! No! For Gods sake, what
moreH
THE track of snow-shoes led into
the path of the slide. They have
sounded and dug, and have found no
trace of any one, though Mr.. Hollo-
way left Jacks cabin six hours be-
fore. Fifty men are on the spot now"
The old man was in tears. Harrie
was on her knees, with her head in
her fathers chair. Kate had fled
from the room.
The poor woman whose life was
wrecked stood like piece of stone.
The old man went on:
"He may have stopped somewhere
else. There is possibility"
What could he say to her?
The group on the corner watched
the house anxiously.
MY sister, it is the Lords doing
the Lord in whom your husband
trusted. He will comfort you. Thy
Maker is thy husband. The Lord of
Hosts is his name!"
Mrs. Holloway put her hands out
gropingly. Her husband, for whom
she had left everything that makes
life for some women, was lost, lost in
the snow. How glad she was that
she had not gone to Denver! This
was her first thought. Her second
was of those great pieces of beef
which had weighted her husband
down.
The minister took her hands.
"Shall | send Aunt Hattie to you?"
But already the neighbors were COM
ing to offer their sympathy.
So they were never to see him
again Could it be possiblel
A few days later half of a snow
shoe was discovered, and the staff,
but for weary months nothing more.
1t was estimated that the valley had
oeen filled to depth of five hundred
feet by the great slide.
Mrs. Holloway's hair grew white,
and her children grave and old, and
finally she yielded to the calls of her
friends and returned to Chicago,
4hare 70 hoo;n Co. har oh;lJ.onJ- 81.