Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-01-21
WIN MES TRIUM PH
By THE AUTHOR OF FAIRY COLD"

bf THE AUTHOR OF FAIRY GOLD"
Her senses have returned now-clearly,
viyidly. She can remember. and think,
and plan, and decide. Her excited brain,
her bounding pulses, her rejoicing soul,
would carry her through worse dangers
than the past ones ten times over. She
can recall the position of the rocks, and
the scraps Of sandy, wecd-grown banks
left bare by the tide, as she remembered
them eight years ago. She can slip down
this great rock, wade over that bank,
mount that jagged shelving piece there,
which leads to the followed 1ecesses III
that projecting gable OF rock above high
water mark. She must climb up there
by the fringing growth Of sea-weed-up
there, where the survivors of the Chittoor
lie.
Is there no sight, no sound, to tell if
they are there-if anything is to reward
her searchg She cannot shout or signal
them; she cannot 90 anything but patient
ly grope, and feel, aud stumble, and climb
inch by inch over the painful way, hold
Ing by rocks, clinging to sea- weed, reach
Ing over deep pools, STOPPING ana holding
her breath under each torrent of foaming
water from each crash of the breakers. A
little way further she proceeds, the thick
whisa froth covering her black drenched
clothes, her long, dripping, ~clinging
tresses like snow, and then the little figure
looking scarcely human, save for the
great dark, longing, passionate eyes look.
ing out of the white face, and the black
shining hair streaming from the waves
clings TO the oily, swaying sea-wecds, and
tries TO Chamber up.
but her swollen, bleeding hands will
not hold the slippery fringes tightly--they
break away again and again from her
hands; the cold is benumbing her, the
waves are deafening and binding her:
and at length, with n piercing scream Of
agonized impatience, pain, and despair,
she falls PROSTATE on the rocks below,
gazing up ut the hidden recesses beyond
her sight and reach. She gazes up, pom.
dering in her dizzy ewilderment, cold.
and weakness, whether she must die there
after all-gazes up, and sees, lookingdown
upon her, over the lodges of rock and sea-
weed, Stephen Tredennick's face.
He sees her, disbelieving what he sees.
he %stares, pushing back his get hair from
his haggard face with n tremor of fear
that the delirium of cold, hunger, and ex.
haustion is stealing over his senses. lie
sees her rise to her feet, and point TO the
rope around her waist, and the gentle,
womanly lips seem to utter words, though
he can hear no voice. And then other
faces look down upon her, and the dark.
cavernous rocks of Tregarthen Head re.
echo with wild sh~outs-hoarse. Casping
hurrahs, and frantic screams of gladness,
relief, hope, and welcome.
They fling themselves down, scramble
down, tumble down in any manner-cight
gaunt, wounded, pallid, h%alf-naked men.
with their captain, Stephen Tredennick-
and they almost overwhelm. in their wild
gratitude, delight, and admiration, the
poor, little, trembling, womanly form
that the sea has well-nigh overwhelmed
already.
"A woman! A woman! Come with q
rope! Oh, may the Lord bless her brave
heart! A little lass come with the rope TO
save us, captainl How did We get to usy
Give us a touch o. your hand! Cut and
bleeding! Cut sore and deep, your bonny
little hands! Lord bless You! Who are
your Are you a spirit or n woman?'
Death staring them in the face had not
wrung a tear from their eyes, or broken
the brave spirits III those sinewy, weather.
beaten frames; but before the sight of a
woman's heroic daring and d~evotedness,
risklng her weak life for theirs, they
sobbed and groaned, kissing her bleeding
hands, w%ringing the weight of moisture
from her dripping clothes, blessing her,
and begging for her name, for their wives
and mothers prayers to the end Of Their
lives.
And Stephen Tredennick re-echoed theil