Santa Fe new Mexican. [volume] (Santa Fe, N.M.) 1898-1951, 1898-01-10

His voice, hoarso with the death strug-
gle, was partly drowned by the waves
rolling furiously over him, as if reluc-
tant tcn1rrender their prey.
A hundred meters from them Pierre
Marie Gouenantin disappeared in the
water, the boats oar under his shout
ders; but, strong and vigorous us he was,
he arose with a cry of joy, for he had
seen Father LIE Pelletier coming. The
lighthouse keeper, hearing the cries for
help, had jumped into his boat and
pushed from the shore without waiting
for any of his companions for fear of be-
ing too late.
He was obliged to round the point.
Courage! Hold fast!" called Michel
Samzun to the little sailor hanging to
the keel. Courage! Father LIE Pelle-
tier is here, our gallant deliverer."
Then on came a wave, a sheer wall
of water, with a foaming crest, and
buried the boat. When it had spent it,
self, Michel raised his head and looked
about-the keel was empty. Far away
the wave vas now rolling, and III it's
cruel bosom it held the orphan boy. FL
nally it disappeared in a whirl Of wa
tiers, boiling and swirling in a horrible
struggle for their victim.
The sun just then pierced the fog and
shone dimly on the raging, tumultuous
sea. In the meantime Father LIE Pelle-
tier had rescued Pierre Marie Gouenan-
tin, and then rowed to the place where
the accident occurred. Great tears roll
ed over the weather stained cheeks Of
the brave lighthouse keeper, as with in.
expressible tenderness he loosened Mi
chel Samzun's cramped hands from the
boats keel.
For three-quarters Of an hour the
three fishermen had struggled with the
waves and with the winds that had
been blowing furiously for the last 20
minutes. When Michel's fingers were
released, Father LIE Pelletier drew him
into the boat and placed him next to
Pierre-Marie. 1t being now certain that
the orphan was lost, the lighthouse
keeper made for the island where
Mother LIE Pelletier was waiting with
dry underclothing, stockings, shoes and
coats, while my maid had prepared a
drink Of hot wine.
Finally LIE Pelletier stepped on shore
and the two poor shipwrecked mariners
followed. The pilot shook the former by
both hands, saying ove and over:
Brave fellow, brave fellow! Another
rescue added to your long list"
"Oh," answered LIE Pelletier, pale
with sorrow and in a bitter tone, "a life
has been lostr' And, although worn
out and wet to the skin, he assisted the
two fishermen, whose teeth were chat
tering, into some dry clothing.
Michel Samzun could not open his
hands, SO swollen were they. They hung
down limp as the hands of the dead and
seemed to be clutching something invis-
ibla.
Pierre-Marie, the elder-this was his
second shipwreck-recovered first. With
half suppressed anger he looked at the
sea and cursed it. Then in taking off
his soaked wool jacket he felt his watch.
He held it to his cal. 1T did not STOP"
he exclaimed, tapping the lid lightly.
ut is a very good watch"
When the sailors were dressed again
and somewhat warmed by the wine,
they asked about their boat. A deep
flush spread over Pierre Marie's face
when he heard that the pilot, Alexan-
Dire, had saved it. Although the sailors
limbs were still trembling aud their
hair stiff and wet from the salt water
they at once stepped into the vessel,
hoisted sail and steered for the pretty
harbor Of Bordery. Some one must tell
ia petite Gouenantin."
| took tho road and arrived at the
same time. The murmurs of the sym
pathetic crowd was the first Fremont
ton the little girl had that something
was wrong. She came out Of her door,
still dressed in black, her restless little
head covered with a white Golf. She
saw the farmers and fishermen form in.
to a group. She knew they were pitying
her as they turned aside their heads.
She could hear the ''alas, alas!" which
the wind carried to her.
A nameless fear urged the girl for
ward to meet the crowd. With pale
face and eyes wide open with horror
the child understood at once when she
saw the two fishermen alone. She fled
back home, calling out in tones broken
by grief: "Ho is dead! He is deadv
This was her message to the unseen
jewellers there.
"He is dead He is deadi Dead with
out confessioni' she cried and fell down
before the black cruoifix that hung Oh
the white wall.
HE is deadl He is dead!" she whis.
pered, kneeling on the floor. her head
pressed against the stones, her arms
spread out toward the crucifix.
And the crowd of fishermen and farm
ers stood on the doorsill. They held
their hats in their hands. They did not
speak. They found no word Of comfort.
And IL was in their midst, one OF
them.-From the French Of Sara Bern.
hardt For Chicago Times Herald.