Butler citizen. [volume] (Butler, Pa.) 1877-1922, 1900-04-26
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ing. Hour after hour he sat there, now
and again throwing Il fresh lump of
fuel on to the fire. which burned up
bravely and then sank into a great bed
of red Goals, which reflected them
selves In the boys eyes as he sat there
brooding, brooding, brooding. At last,
when the fire was blazing at its bright
est, he rose suddenly and walked slow
" to a beam from which an OK "riem''
hung. Loosening It, he ran n moose in
one end and then doubled it round his
arm.
Mine, mine! have a right" he
muttered, and then something louder,
"If | fall and am killed, so much the
betterr'
He opened the door and went out
into the starlight.
He walked with his eyes bent upon
the ground, but overhead 1t was one
of those brilliant southern nights when
every space so small that your hand
might cover 1t shows 30 cold white
points, and the Milky Way is a belt of
sharp frosted silver He passed the
door where Bonaparte lay dreaming
If Trana and her wealth, and he
mounted the ladder steps. From those
he clambered with some difficulty on
to the roof of the house. 1t was Of old
rotton thatch with a ridge of white
plaster, and 1t crumbled away under
his feet at every step. He trod as heav-
lily as he could. So much the better If
he fell.
He kneIt down when he got to the
far gable and began to fasten his
''riem" to the crumbling bricks. Be
low was the little window of the loft.
With one end of the "riem' tied round
the gable, the other end round his
waist, how easy to slide down to it,
and to open it through one of the
broken panes, and to go in, ana to fill
his arms with books, and to Chamber
up again! They had burned one book.
He would have 20 Every mans hand
was against his. His should be against
every mans. No one would help him.
He would help himself.
He lifted the black, damp hair from
his knit forehead and looked round to
cool his hot face Then he saw what n
regal night it was. He knelt silently
and looked up. A thousand eyes were
looking down at him, bright and so
cold. There was n laughing irony in
them.
80 hot, so bitter, so angry! Poor
little mortaI"'
arms and sat on the ridge of the roof
looking up at them.
$50 hot, so bitter, so angry"
1t was as though n cold hand had
Deen laid upon his throbbfur foa,el.ea4,,
and slowly they began to fade and
grow dim. Tant' Sannie and the burn
ed book, Bonaparte and the broken
machine, the box In the loft, he him
self sitting there-how small they all
became, even the grave over yonder!
Those stars that shone on up above so
quietly, they had seen a thousand such
little eXistences, a thousand such little
existences fight just so fiercely, flare
up just so brightly and 90 out, and
they, the old, old stars, shone on for
ever.
$50 hot. so angry, poor little soul"
they said.
The "riem" slipped from his fingers.
He sat with his arms folded looking
up.
I'VE" said the stars, ''havc seen the
earth when it was young. We have
seen small things creep out upon it's
surface-small things that prayed and
loved and cried very loudly and then
crept under it again. But We" said the
stars, ''are as old as the unknown"
He leaned his chin against the palm
of his hand and looked up at them. So
long he sat there that bright stars set
and new ones rose, and yet he sat on.
Then at last he stood up and began
to loosen the "riem" from the gable.
What did it matter about the books?
The lust and the desire for them had
died out. If they pleased to keep them
from him, they might. What matter?
1t was a very little thing. Why hate
and struggle and fight? Let it be as it
would.
He twisted the "riem" round his arm
and walked back along the ridge Of the
house.
By this time Bonaparte Blenllins had
finished his dream of Trana, and as he
turned himself round for a fresh doZe
he heard the steps descending the lad
der. His first impulse was TO draw
the blanket over his head and his legs
under him and to shout; but, recollect-
ing that the door was locked and the
window carefully bolted, he allowed
his head slowly to crop out among the
blankets and listened intently- Who
soever il might be, there was no danger
Of their getting ut him, so he cEmbered
out of bed and, going on tiptoe to the
door, applied his eye to the keyhole.
There was nothing to be seen; so,
walking to the window, he brought his
face as close to the glass as his nose
would allow. There was Il figure just
The lad was not trying
to walk softly, and the heavy shuttiing
Of the well known "vel-schoens" could
be clearly heard through the closed
window as they crossed the stones in
the yard. Bonaparte listened till they
had died away round the corner of the
wagon house, and, feeling that his bare
legs We're getting cold, he jumped back
into bed again.
"What do you keep up in your loftT
inquired Bonaparte of the Boer woman
the next morning, pointing upward and
his meaning by the addi-
ton of such Dutch words as he knew,
for the lean HottentOt was gone home.
"Dried SKINS" said the Boer woman,
''and empty bottles and boxes and
sacks and soap"
you don't keep any of your pro-
visions ther-sugar, nOwT said Bona
parte, pointing to the sugar basin and
then up at the loft.
Tant' Sannie shook her head.
"Only salt and dried peaches"
Dried peaches, ehP' said Bonaparte.
"Shut the door, my dear child, shut ii |
tight" he called out to EN-, who stood |
in the dining room. Then he leaned |
over the elbow of the sofa and brought !
his face as close as possible to the Boer |
and made signs of eating. |
Then he said something she did not |
then said, ''Waldo, Waldo, |
Waldo" pointed up to the loft, and |
made signs of eating again.
Now an inIlng of his meaning dawn |
I'd on the Boer woman's mind. To |
make it clearer he moved his legs after |
he manner of one going up a ladder, |
appeared to be opening Il door, masti- |
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