The Butler weekly times. (Butler, Mo.) 1881-1918, 1898-02-17

where am 1? Whittier am 1 wan
deringF Where did leave him?7
at was near this time of the
month, eighteen years ago that my
poor father left this world for a bet.
ter. He had kind arm to hold hi s
head and kind voice to cheer him,
Reuben, in his last moments, aud
the thought of the faithful care you
took of him has comforted me many
times since. On, death would have
been awful to a solitary man in
place like this"
F'Pray Heaven, Dorcas," said Rsu-
ben, in broken voice-'pray Heav
en- that neither of us three dies soil
tary and lies unburied in this bowling
wilderness!' AMI he fastened away
leaving her to watch the fire beneath
the gloomy pines. Reuben Bournes
rapid pace gradually slackened as
the pang Internationally Inflicted by
the words of Dorcas became less
acute. His steps were impercepti-
bly, led almost in circle, nor did he
observe he was on the verge of a
large tract of land heavily timbered,
but not with pine trees. Whenever
the rustling of the branches or the
creaking of the trunks made a sound
as il the forest were waking from
slumber, Reuben instinctively raised
the musket that rested on his arm,
and cast quick, shark glance on
every side; but, convinced by par
tial observation that no animal was
near, he would again give himself
up to his thoughts. Perceiving the
motion of some object behind a
: thick veil of underground, he fired
. with the instict of a hunter and the
aim of practiced marksman. A
low moan which told of his success,
and by which even animals can ex-
press their dying agony. was I'm
needed by Reuben Bourne What
were the recollections now breaking
) upon nina?
The thicket into which Reuben
| had fired was near the summit of a
{ swell of land, and was clustered
/ around the base of rock which in
: the shape and smoothness of one OF
it's surfaces was not unlike gigan-
t tic gravestone. As il reflected in q
| mirror its likeness was in Reuben's
memory. Yet in the next moment
: Reuben's eye was caught by another
+ change that time had effected since
s he last stood where he was now
8 standing again-behind the earthy
: roots of the uptorn tree. The sap
a ling to which he had bound the
r blood stained symbol of his VOW haC
r increased and strengthened into ar
8 oak-far, indeed, from its maturity
but with no mean spread of shadow
Q branches. The middle and lower
r branches were in luxuriant growth
but blight had apparently stricken
1 the upper part of the oak, and til,
9 very topmost bough was withered
g sapless and utterly dead. Reuben
D remembered how the little banner
l. had futtsred on that topmost bougf
j, when it was green and lovely, eigh
: teen years before. Whose guilt hat
q blasted it,
Dorcas, after the departure of tn,
: two hunters, continued her prepare
{ tione for their evening repast. Sh,
= was aroused by the report of CUR
3 in the vicinity of the encampment
= and either the sudden sound or hel
f loneliness by the glowing fire caused
:, her to tremble violently. The mex
1 moment she laughed in the pride o.
9 a mothers heart.
5 my beautiful young hunter. My
8 bov has slain a deer" che exclaimed
!. recollecting that ia the direction
whence the shot proceeded Cyrus
g had gons to the chase. She waited
9 a reasonable time to hear her sons
e light step bounding over the rust
i ling leaves to tell of his success. Blu
q
I he did not Immediately apper, and
/ she sent her cheerful voice among
e the trees in search of him. "Cyrus
r Cyrus
q u;s coming was stiII deIaved and