The Dupuyer acantha. [volume] (Dupuyer, Mont.) 1894-1904, 1899-08-24


gled Joy and grief that I Rugged my boy
closer to me, to keep him warm; for it
was bitterly cold, and a mist had be-
gun to fall, and was ~thickening every
moment. No sign of life was on the
sea; in the distance we saw the ter
r1Dle coast-line, consisting of straight
rocks of a tremendous height, afford
ing not the remotest chance of effecting
a landing. / scarcely remember how
that day passed; I was in a stupor, ly-
ing at the bottom of the boat, whisper
ing incoherent endearments into my
little boys ears. That he did not an
swer me did not surprise or hurt me; it
pleased me that he should sleep so
calmly during these cold and cherries
hours. To awaken him would have
only aroused him to misery. Toward
evening l became conscious that the
men in the boat were directing strange
glances toward me and my precious
bundleI
that. We've enough weight in the boat
without carrying the dead"
Who did you say is dead?" I asked,
vacantly, not understanding him.
Their significant looks answered me,
and one man placed his hand on my
little boys heart. l pushed him aside
fretfully.
This is my son." I said, "for whom
I've been searching these seven years
past. I have only just found him.
No, I am not mad; I am in my right
senses. But this is not the time to tell
you my story. My wife lies there
I pointed to the cave. 81 might have had
her but for you. Let me be, then. I
suppose some of you can understand
what a fathers love, what a husbands
grief, is in such a trial as this.p
But don't you seer" the same man
asked, and many OF them looked at me
with sad eyes. "Come, be reasonable.
We are dead beat. You are as strong
as we are. Lend a hand to an oar.
Nay, then, if you'll not believe, look for
yourself"
| allowed him to uncover the face of
my boy, and the truth dawned upon
me.
"Bobr 1 whispered. Speak to me,
my SOM"
1 shook him gently; he made no
movement. White and still, he lay in
my arms. I put my ear to his mouth
to his heart; not a pulse replied to
me. And then l saw that his limbs
must have been cold and stiff for hours,
and that I had been nursing a corpse.
"My boy is dead, mates / said, with
a strange calmness upon me. Forgive
me I didn't know it before, you see.
My poor little Bob!'
They turned their faces from me as I
stopped and kissed Bob's white lips.
Then l cried quietly rel him a bit, and
laid him at the bottom of the boat,
covering him with my shirt, which I
took off for the purpose.
LET me keep him." I pleaded; eff
we land, we can bury him ashore"
cay, ay, mate" they said, softly.
l answered them with grateful looks,
and, taking an oar, pulled with the
strength of a giant, drinking the salt
tears which ran down my face. I
worked mechanically, and had no
thought for anything but the body Of
my poor little BOD.
Through the long hours of the night
we pulled, and when the sun rose we
found ourselves in the same dismal
plight. The wind was dead in our
teeth, and the rocks doomed black and
shadowy in the distance. Having
aboard only sufficient provisions for
two days, it behooved us to find a ref
uge soon; and many a breath of thank
fulness was drawn when, on the even
ing of %he second day, we discovered a
neck of land where we reckoned we
could put safely ashore. Some part OF
the beach was sand, but yer ytreacher-
Gus, as we presently learned, and some
was rock. We rowed toward the
sandy beach, and n man jumped Out
too soon for his life, for he sunk be-
fore our yes. The quicksands hat
swallowed him. With feelings of awe
we pulled toward the rocks, and aftel
some difficulty we effected a landing
saving, too, at the risk of our lives
what little provisions we had left. Blu
in the landing, our boat was dashed tt
~splinters. And there, rescued from
the sea, we stood upon the rocks il
safety, 1 with my little Bob in my arms
wrapped in my serge shirt.
: "Now for a fire" said one of the par
, ty; 81 am p%erishing with cold. Let u
collect some dry wood"
3 ITO b It'll