Herald and news. [volume] (West Randolph, Vt.) 1878-1943, 1902-02-20

| anyway"
Hank had never seen or heard of
anything like this before, and his de-
light and gratitude knew no bounds.
He wanted to pay his benefactor for
the machine, but could only get him
to accept a 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
photograph, and music and song and
oratory and laughter filed his shack
through the medium of the tin horn.
There was one record that he used
more thanany 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 a storm of handclapping. Then
the music of single in a prelude,
and woman's voice, strong and sweet
| and clear, sang:
Round my Indiana homestead wave the
| cornfield,
In the distance loom the woodlands clear
and cool;
oftentimes my thoughts revert to scenes
Of childhood
Where l first received my lessons-na-
lures school,
Hank tried to imagine what she
would look like, and presently identi-
fed her with a colored Autograph of a
girl feeding chickens, that had come
to him with a months supply of plug
tobacco blue-eyed faXen-haired
mdiden with round, white arms and
a preternaturally graceful form. 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
4 cleaning
on the banks OF the Wabash, far away"
"Weu, 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
wuz expectin' to need Jesus here to
haul YOU back into FL Paso. Reckon
you don't need no relief"
Il sure do" said Hank. Jesus kin
tumble out an take hold an III pack
my warsack an go back with you.
may be all right, but / 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
photograph 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 door 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-
loved 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 won.
Ian. He nudged his friend and received
IN return a jolt in the side from Hanks
elbow that for the moment robbed him
Of breath: for a violin was playing the
prelude to 1.-THE Banks of the Wabash,
and the next moment the girl sang j.
a clear, sweet voice.
] 4
cornheld,
In the distance loom the woodland clear
and cool,
Ofteutimes my thoughts revert TO scenes
Of childhood,
Where / first received my lessons-na
lures school
1t was the voice of the photograph
"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 OF
not. jest as you darn please" II,
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 a well-looking mar
and he EnbNE0 sOAlAG AniAtN "a Inv "a = ~
dation he felt, though he had beer
bluff and peremptory enough with the
men who had barred his way. "YoI
want me?
That's what" replied Hank, Simply
"What is it?"
~ Jest told you. / want you. TAX
a good look al me, an see eff you thinl
III do. I'm a stranger TO you, but yol
hain't ter me. You've ben with m'
IN my shack, singin' ter me for TIVE
months Study. I'd like the best kint
ter have you with me fer all Their res
Of the time there is"
Miss st. Clair looked at him for mo
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. III
tell YOU" And he told her, with a rud'
eloquence that moved her strangely
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