Custer weekly chronicle. [volume] (Custer City, S.D.) 1890-1931, 1899-11-18

fence being all that divides one place from
the other. The river rushes eagerly past
both, on its way to the sea, murmuring mer.
rily on its happy voyage, as though mock.
ing at human weals and woes and petty
quarrels.
Through the waving meadows, over the
little brook, past the stile, Monica makes
her way, pucking here and there the scarlet
poppies and the bluc cornfowers and
daisies, those pearled Arcturi Of the earth,
the constell ated flower that never SETS"
The sun is tinting all things with its yel-
low haze, and is burning to brightest gold
the reddish tinge in the girls hair, as she
moves with dallying steps through the green
fields. She is dressed In a white gown,
decked with ribbons Of a somker tint, and
wears upon her head huge poke bonnet,
from which her face peeps ouis half earnest
half eoquettish, wholly pure.
Her hands are bare and shapely, but o III
tie brown; some old-fashioned rings glisten
on them. She has the tail of her gown
thrown negligently over her arm, and WITH
her happy lips parted in song, and her eyes
serene as early dawn;
And now the sparkling river comes In
sight. Near its brink an old boat-house
may be seen fast cnImbllng to decay; and
on the river itself lies, swaying to and fro,
small punt In the very last stages OF decline.
II is very terrible little boat, quite at
deaths door, and might have had those lines
of Dantes painted upon 1t without libel:
abandon hopo, all ye who enter here
! But Monica, in happy ignorancSof rot<ing
! timbers, thinks only of the JOY Vac felt last
evening when the discovery Of this demoral-
lied treasure was made. In the molderlng
boat house she had found it, and so had
claimed it for heT own.
She has told no one Of her secret, not >veri
! Kit who Is, as rule, her prime minister
! her confidante and her shadow. She mas
| indeed, had great difficulty i'm escaping from
"her shadow just now, but after much
| Diplomatic toll had managed 1t.
" o-morrow, If to-day proves successful
and her rowing does not fail her, of which
she has had some practice during the lass
/ two years Of her life, she will tell Kit and
| Terry all about it, and let them share her
! pleasure. But to-day Is her own.
The boat is connected with the shore by a
rope tied round the stump Of a tree by most
unskllful hands. Elinging her flowers into
! the punt, she strives diligently TO undo the
( knot that she herself had made the night
| before, but strives i'm vain. The hard rope
wounds her tender hands and vexes her
! gentle soul.
She is still struggling with it, and already
a little panied frown has made wrinkle on
/ her smooth brow, when another boat shoots
! from under the willows and gains the little
! landing place. with its pebbly beach, that
/ belongs equally to C0oie Castle and to
/ MOyne.
This new boat Is tremendous improve
ment on our heroine's. 1t Is the smartest
! little affair possible, and as safe as church,
safer, indeed, as times 90 now. Not thai
| there Is anything very elaborate about 1T,
/ but II is freshly painted, and there are cusll.
| ions in it, and all over 1t a suppressed air OF
luxury.
Besides the cushions, there is something
else in it, too,-a young man OF about SIX
! and-twenty, who steps lightly on to the
bank, though it is miracle he doesn't lose
his footing and come ANONYMOUSLY to the
ground, so bent is his gaze on the gracious
little figure at the other side Of the bound
ary-fence struggling with the refractory
rope.
1t doesn't take any time to cross the
boundary.
"Will you allow me to do that for you?'
says the strange young man, raising his hat
politely, and taking the rope out of Monica's
hand without waiting for rormi sion.
Continued Next Weekly