Savannah courier. (Savannah, Tenn.) 1885-1979, 1901-11-08


light and gratitude knew no bounds,
He wanted to pay his benefactor for
the machine, but could only get him
TO accept tanned wildcat skin. Then
this angel entertained unawares got
into his blackboard and his team rap
Idly carried him out of sight.
But Hanks case was different now.
At night he could wind up his little
phonograph, and music and song and
oratory and laughter filled his shack
through the medium of the tin horn.
There was one record that he used
more than any other and swathed more
tenderly in its protecting cotton, and
as time went on there were evenings
when this particular record was the
only one that he used. 1t started off
with storm of handclapping. Then
the music of single violin in prelude,
and woman's voice, strong and sweet
and clear, sang:
"Round my Indiana homestead wave the
In the distance loom the woodlands clear
and cool;
Oftentimes my thoughts revert to scenes
of childhood
Where l first received my lessons-na-
ture's school"
Hank tried to imagine what she
would look like, and presently identi-
fed her with colored lithograph of
girl feeding chickens, that had come
to him with months supply of plug
tobacco blue-eyed, faxen-haired
maiden with round, white arms and
a preternaturally graceful fern. And
so the singer grew very real to him,
and he thought about her as he watched
his flock and ever the refrain of the
song rang in his ears:
''The moon shines bright tonight upon the
Wabash
From the fields there comes the scent of
new mown hay,
Through the sycamores the candle light is
cleaning
On the banks of the Wabash far away"
"Well, you don't seem to have suf-
fered none," said Bill Williams, when
he drove up to the camp two months
later. Fat and happy, by Jinks. And
l wuz expectin' to need Jesus here to
haul you back into El Paso. Reckon
you don't need no relief"
81 sure do" said Hank. "Jesus kin
tumble out an take hold, an I'll pack
my warsack an go back with you. l
may be all right, but l amt goin' to
take no chances until after I've taken
in the town fer awhile"
So the Mexican took hold" and
Hank went back to FL Paso with his
phonograph and drew his wages.
The second night of his relaxation
he and his friend William were at
tracted by the lights and the show bills
at the deor of a theater. They went in.
1t was about the usual programme
juggling, dancing, singing, dialogue
all the rest of it, and the two men en-
joyed it with the abandon of children.
But suddenly Bill was aware that Hank
was gazing with far more than ordi-
nary interest on a girl who had just
come on the stage-a blue-eyed and
extremely golden-haired young wom-
an. He nudged his friend and received
in return jolt in the side from Hanks
elbow that for the moment robbed him
of breath; for violin was playing the
prelude to "The Banks of the Waba sh,"
and the next moment the girl sang in
a clear, sweet voice.
Round my Indiana homestead wave the
cornheld,
In the distance loom the woodland clear
and cool;
Oftentlmes my thoughts revert to scenei
of childhood,
Where 1 first received my lessons-na.
ture's school.
1t was the voice of the phonograph
"Where you going?" asked William
"The show amt over yet. Sit down.
I'm goin' ter see that GAL" said
Hank, determinedly. "You kin wait oil
not, jest as you darn please" He
worked his way with some difficulty
behind and presently was confronted
with Miss Mae st. Clair.
"Well?" said the singer, not unkind
ly, for Hank was well-looking mar
and he showed something of the trepi
dation he felt, though he had beer
bluff and peremptory enough with thu
men who had barred his way. "Yol
want me?"
"That's what" replied Hank, simply
"What Is it?"
81 jest told you. I want you. TAX,
a good look at me, an see ef you thinl
I'll do. I'm stranger to you, but yo,
hain't ter me. You've ben with M
IN my shack, singin' ter me for tw'
months stiddy. I'd like the best kim
ter have you with me fer all ther res
of the time there is"
Miss St. Clair looked At him for a m O
ment in amazement and then burst in
to a fit of laughter. "You must b
crazy" she said.
"No," said Hank, 81 hain't crazy
nuther. You saved me from that. II
tell YOU" And he told her, with arud
eloquence that moved her strangely
81 knowed when seen you an hear
you tonight that / wuzn't mistaken,
he concluded. 81 knowed that the
breath of ther new-mown hay com
to you right there, an you seen tn
moon shinin' on ther ripples in the
water an hankered after ther OF home
stead. You hain't satisfied ter pain
up your face this-a-way an sing ter
mob Of whisky-soaking loafers--ar
you?"
"N-no," she half stammered.
"Well, then, come with me an II
make home fer you, an eff it hain't
happy one 1t won't be my fault
"You don't know anything abou
me-" she said, quickly.
"Nor you don't erbout me-"
"But / know" she said, smiling. Fo
moment or two they looked at on
another very earnestly. Then Han
put out his hand and she put hers will