The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1898-12-11


Plague take my uncle, Gabriel Muir
rim Justin answered, with a grimace.
Call him not my uncle so persistently
Though he loves the title even if he
hate the nephew, It's yet but an acct
dent relationships marriage. Thank
the gods, 1 have none of his blood. AS
to your reception, idler or not, you need
not fear, for he will not likely be there
A ship came in from the West Indies
yesterday and old Gabriel will doubt
less be busy aboard
Then, said Oziel, with difhdence,
'if Mistress Marian do not object
Nay, you know she will give you
welcome. In faith, Cousin Marian of
late, now that folk are sullen to me.
is ever the easier when I am with you
She has not forgotten that you took
my part at school, friend Haskell, and
she will not trust me that [ am grown
enough to fight my own battles. That
big body and these prodigious limbs Of
thine she has a great admiration
for
Oziel was laboring with low, bent
head, above his oars.
"-as being my surest protection"
said Justin. She will give you a glad
welcome"
OzieI said nothing. So lads are silent
when those they most regard are
spoken of. Justin stretched himself at
ease, the sun on his upturned, hand
some face-the face of the Hallowells,
last of its kind, comely, fatefully sad,
and marked with the HalloWell sign
that yet was very faint in his cousin
Marians AS he lay the sense of free
dom which only the salt wind brings
had full possession of him, and he be-
gan to sing, as, in the winding streets
of the cody town, or in the harsh
ruled chambers of his uncles house,
he would not venture, for fear of some
chill Puritan's rehuke.
Come all brave lads and sail with me!
The red fruit grows on orchard tree.
But the red gold grows Ger waves of the
sea,
Where all brave lads go sailing!
How like you that song, Oziel?"
mot too well, Justin" said Oziel,
grayely. "Of what use to dwell ever on
seas and rovers and golden treasures.
when the counting room shall be your
lot as the farm shall be mine Forget
your family's past, and be content,
Justin"
20, no! Thou preacher of parts!"
cried young Hallowell, gaily. Some
day you shall outpreach Mr. Cotton
Mather! To perdition with my uncle's
counting house, and perdition with
your farm if it hold you from seeing
the world.
Where the moon. sails in southern sky,
Where the soft wind signs sweetly by
There grows the gold where the dead men
lie,
Where all brave lads go sailingr'
The boy had sweet and clear voice,
but it faltered on the stave and died
away on the last lines sorrowfully.
Oziel looked up from his oars, but did
not at once speak when his eyes fell
upon the others face. There was upon
it, as Justin's gaze stared above and
beyond the rower's head, far over earth
and sea, a look which the simple COL
onist dreaded, feared and hated to see,
the look which the children and women
of Boston shuddered at, talked of in
evil murmurs, a black, uncanny look
which, if it passed you, awed, and, if it
touched you, burned, so fateful was it.
And ever, at such times, there doomed
above his eyes his brow's mark omi-
nously. Of many had the Fighting
words "evil-eyed" and witch begot-
ten" been spoken, but of few with so
apparent cause as of this young or
phan from over the seas in one of his
strangely stern and sad moods, as now.
It chilled even Ozief, much as he loved
his friend, and well as he was con-
WINGED of his true heart. But, indeed,
with the bringing up of a New England
boy of those old superstitious days, it
would have been a marvel if he had
not credited all the old wives tales
told round the lonely farms fireside to
shivering children-tales of upright
eous bargains, twixt man and devil, of
witches powers, of the phantom ship,
with the great red horse that secured
the coasts, of the bag Drained at sea
by ships carpenter, who was found
Immediately at home by her neighbors,
dying Of the wound, of spells cast by a
mere glance of q fearSone eye-in-
Vulnerable ghostly tales with which to
send a shuddering boy to bed. Even
now Oziel shuddered at the fancy of
what Justin might be staring at with
those far-away, sad, fated eyes, and
he thrust his blades viciously through
the water, purposely splashing the cold
spray on the others cheeks The eff
feet was immediate, and Justin woke
to one of his fiaring gusts of passion
"Confound your clumsineSS." he
cried. You are ever but a lout, Oziell"
Oziel, who with one big paw might
have crushed him, took the rude words
most meekly, words which a berib-
boned cavalier might have thrown dis
painfully at an awkward, roundhead
peasant, and which were not apt to be
tamely taken by the sturdy men of
the new world. Justins anger passed
like a catspaw gust, and he said,
softly:
That line spoils a good song to my
ear, Oziel
There grows the gold where the dead men
lie
81 wonder if it be true what my uncle
says when he would anger me, that SO
my father lies
Again the gloomy frown fell, but
Oziel would have no more of it. He
! beloved that the wind was freshening
and the night was upon them, and bade
Justin order the game for carrying
ashore, pulling the while most strenu.
ously and talking loud until. as if
darkened along the coast, he brought
the boat near to the beach, some dis
lance back of the town, not far from
his own farm, where was a landing
place. 80 justin was kept busy, until,