The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1900-01-11

this island?" he asked.
"Never," said Sevenspot, but Mar
garita, that swate Kakiack wife av
yours, Bill, called me something tn yes
therday. Pwativer it may name. il,
sounds uncomplimenthary."
"And is So" said Bill, land did you
ever hear man sing on this island?"
"Niver," said Sevenspot, "onless We
call it singin' when Beno Brown gets
spiff1icated an howls woe is me, with
no whiskee.'"
"Sevenspot," persisted Bill, did you
ever hear girl laugh on this island?"
Sevenspot shook his head.
"'Tis tonne he said, that we moved
on a bit av we are to make that ridge
an get tn lay av til land tn avenin' an
back by mornin'."
They wriggled ahead TO the crest OF
the next swell of the prairie. As they
rested Bill asked:
''Or a boy whistler"
"Niver," exclaimed Sevenspot, sud-
denly yanking his rife up beside him
and working the lever, but | think
both av us heard that bullet whistle,
an I'm thinkin' that puts bloody pc
riod to this scoutin' thrip. bad luck to
TIL sharp eyes of tn brown divils!"
"He were rale man, were Big Bill"
said Sevenspot. holding forth in quar-
ters that evening. "Avin av he did con-
sort with brown woman. Shure, whin
he volunteered for tn scoutin' thrip
with me, / misliked it at first because
av tn thought av that Kakiack wife av
bis. But all tn mornin' he were notin'
down tn lay O. land as cool-loike as
county surveyor at home. An thin,
whin the brown divils began BOOM
boomin', he squatted there on wan knee
an worked tn lever av his krag as
methodical as if he were machine gun
an wound up for all day. Whin til bull
let wint through him, he wint down on
wan ilbow, with wan hand on his chist.
an luckin' up at me, who was putin
down me krag to help him, sez he:
"'Kape poompin, Spot, kape poomp-
in. I'm done for anyway. an ye must
thry to kape thin back till tn byes come
out for yez.'
AN seem tn blood comm in spurts
through his fingers an tn film in his
eyes, knew he spoke thrue. So | wint
on with me rat-shootin', kapein' wan
eye On Bill. His ilbow wint slip-slip-
PIN out on tn red wet grass under him,
till his head nodded down in tn crook
av his arrum loike he were drowsy an
droppin' off to slape. TIL bloody hano
on his chist fell lump-loike beside him.
Thin he opened his eyes sleepy-lolke
wanst, an muttered loike he were half
dreamin': ''ris woman singinn
Thin he shut his eyes and dropped
off aisy. An ] wint on with me rat-kill-
in. Thin | heard tn mountain guns
barkin' behind me an tn fire from tn
front slackened. | could hear you min
thramplin' through tn dry grass. An
here l am. But Bill-he were man
Margarita or no Margarita.'
1t was the evening of the day after.
The men of Y were leaning listlessly
out on the easements of the big casa
where the company was quartered 10
catch breath of cool air. Across the
street there was native thatched
shack. Under its projecting roof the
forms of a man and woman were dim
ly visible. The woman gently touched
the strings Of guitar and just the sug-
gestion of plaintive melody floated
across the way. The men leaned fur
ther out of the easements and listened.
"Shure," said Seyenspot, "thot little
brown diyil, Margarita, tuck it har-rd
whin we putt away poor Bill tn morn
in. Whin tn bugle sounded taps,
shure thought she'd wape herself into
nothing but pint av wather. 'Tis a
tinder heart she has under a brown
skin. ! misdoubt me | may have mis-
judged tn brown wimmen."
The banjo across the way gave forth
louder thrum-thrum. and then to a
moaning, wailng, heart breaking mel
ody, deep-chested alto chanted sadly,
monotonously in the native tongue.
The soldiers looked and listened silent
ly. The woman's voice rose and fell vi
brantly in wierd chant full of tears
and means and broken hearts, and then
died away in hopeless sob. Sevenspot
drew long, shuddery breath
"'fis the first native iter heard
sing he whispered. "Who is she?"
bills Margarita," said Smithie, com
pany Us authority on Kakiack lingo
and customs.
Bills Margarita!" exclaimed Seven
spot. "Shure thot explains it. Twas
thot voice, not tn brown woman thot
Big Bill married! Twas an echo an a
mimory thot he welded, poor lad."
Smithe nodded and puffed his cigar
Poor little brown Margarita," con-
tinued Sevenspot. "Av | could sling tn
lingo it's mesilf would go an thry an
say kind worrud to her. 'Tis III death
song av her love she were singing an
It's not unlike an honest Irish keen.
'Tis sad me ould heart is for tn poor lit
tie brown diyil, left all aone-alone."
Smithie threw back his head and
laughed aloud
"Pwhat." exclaimed Sevenspot, turn
ing fiercely, "pwhat do yez foind so
funny in a brave soldiers widow. be
she brown or black?"
"Seveuspot." said Smithie, putting a