Sharp County record. (Evening Shade, Ark.) 1877-1976, 1900-01-19
! Algonquin Legend
= BY Florence Wilkinson.
kfYs NOT mi. u,s," he thouobt n,

othSohis AsW A&sess ocS's 80 @~s--o
shallow rapids.
He had two companions, one young
girl, olive-skinned and black-haired,
the other an old woman, whose darker
hue showed her 70 be Of unmixed In
dian blood.
m. Villeaublle," said Yvonne, "Eaire
ees my grandmozaire's house, at zait
montague. far, far. See you zaire?
Gardez! gardez!"
Her English was delicious. mixed as
II was with French words and spoken
with the Canadian French accent. She
spoke 70 him In English. except when
she became much interested in the con-
vepsation, or when the theme taxed
400 heavily her slender vocabulary.
re rivaire she wind much, and I
link we shall hat storm. And re
courante is against us, M. villeaubille."
He glanced up at the sky where the
clouds were gathering above the top
of the Montague Ronde, dark. heavy
clouds, through which the headlight
ming flashed htfully.
II do not fear re storm, l." said
Yvonne, "but look, grandmere, wat was
zait? Something's wife ran past me. on
re vater."
Grandmere started. and looked about
her uneasily.
1T was the moons reflection in the
stream, Nile. Yvonne," said VII
loughby.
From her place in the bottom Of the
boat grsndmere muttsred an unintel-
ligible something.
In the shadow Of the frs the canoe
slid on almost noiselessly, when out Of
the silence wall quivered in the air
above their heads. Yvonne suppressed
a cry OF terror and crouched down low
in the canoe. Willoughby himself was
startled BY q voice 30 human, 80 mel
ancholy. sounding in that solitude.
~ believe it Is q child crying!" he
exclaimed. LET us 60 to the shore"
mon, non, navarro, monsieur"
Yvonne's voice trembled, but she
stepped the paddle with her hand a.
he began to reverse the canoe.
"Zaire was not re place it sounded
it was above US. We will go on qvick-
qvick!"
ut was q wild loon, perhaps, in pas
sage" Willoughby said. "rhey have
human cry"
He was endeavoring to reassurs him
self as well as the Others, for fear 10
somewhat contagious.
ut was not loon, nor was II hu-
man." the old woman spoke out in
French for the first time.
Look there!" She pointed toward
a bay Of the river that ran up into a
marshy meadow.
Willougby looked, but in the twi-
light he saw nothing except the white
mist slowly exhaling from the water
and the fiag-aowers along the meadow
edge.
What Is it?" he asked, his curiosity
fairly aroused, for he perceived that 1t
was something definite which his COM
panion feared.
"Tell me, Mile. Yvonne."
Silence met his question--the girl
putting her finger to her lips with the
gesture of one who dares not speak.
Willoughby's vision became preternat-
urally acute AZ the weirdness of the sit
uation impressed itself upon him.
Watching the dusky shore past which
they were closely skimming, he OBJ
served a slight, sinuous motion among
the reeds of the margin, and then some
thing slid suddenly in front Of the ca
noe.
ut Is she!" the girl cried, suddenly
bowling her head forward upon grand
mere's knees.
la Jonglsussl She 10 following us
tonight"
Hush! do not speak her name" said
grandmere's husky voice. "or one of us
will be taken"
Again Willoughby asked, and more
earnestly, for an explanation.
81 will tell you. Monsieur VilleAubille;
but 1t Is Something's you will not lake Of
hearing"
Then she continued rapidly In
French, giving her version, somewhat
modified, Of the old legend current 200
years ago among the Algonquins and
still preserved In tradition among the
seignories Of Riviere-Quelle;
"She comes at twilight, when the
mist rises from the streams, when the
whippoorwill cries among the grasses,
then her voice Is heard quaverlng and
moaning like lost child In the lonely
marshes. She trsads softly on the
white, spongy moss, and where her
footprints are she leaves behind her
little pools Of water. One cannot see
her, M. Vllleaubille. No. no. But one
can see the rushes moving where she
walks at twilight. for she gathers the
pale-purple sticky fsg-fiowers for her
hair. Her hair 10 long and waves In the
breeze. Sometimes ono fsela II brush
the cheek. like the touch Of . dsnk
waterweed, Evil--svil for ono whom
she touches. monsieur.
where the aldsrs droop and dip she
loves to 20, and there she sits and
swings her feet In the water. and tho