The Saint Paul globe., 1902-09-02

ceaselessly by the fecund river. And
as their slow eyes opened over the
shadows about them, they thought Ia
boriously, jealously, yet slumberously;
weaving into a coarse web of clotted
reverie the bare facts of life. And
while they meditated, they forgot the
1900 fishers who rose and fell in the
boats that slept uneasily upon this
same eXpanse of sea-tainted water.
Dravhan figured again the tide for
the next day, striving to shorten the
frigld hours that must elapse before
he could once more see Helma Vragni-
zan, the shapely daughter of his cap
tain. He had much to solve; prob
lens lay like tangled sea-weed over
his cumbrous, rock-like purpose. He
knew, as a man knows where q blow
strikes him, that her father grudged
him possession. He felt blindly that
passion in Jan Vragnizan's breast; yet
through all OVERLAPPING Of circum-
stance he felt an elemental, moving
impregnable emotion. He had never
defined 1t crearly, succinctly. till that
day on which an unknown spirit had
prompted him to say to Helnla: y
love you" And the more he unused
upon that expression the more Justify
he felt that she would have to teach
him, as child Is taught. to put the
sounds of letters into words what that
carved face half hidden by the over
hang of his shapeless hat, crouched
bulkily, Vra gnizan, immobile, watch
full, preponderant. His mind, nodded
by aging habit, was struggling as a
man writhes within a straitjacket
Strange flickers from his younger life
startled his dark consciousness In
which lay invisible, even forgotten
masses of crude, unpregnant expert
enca. The very flares Of the distant
boats warned him into more usual
fairways Of meditation. But he, too
felt within him an elemental passion
It rushed fluently upon him that he
hated the man in front Of him. And
| that flood of hate flowed, as he sui
lenly felt, between life and death.
Then the mechanical impulse Of Gus
| tom dulled the emotion, and he fun
! bled in his under pockets for his fish
! book" With fingers scared by brine
| he turned its reel1ing pages and reck-
oned his earnings for the season. Again
| there was the old result, a debt to the
cannery Of six hundred dollars and
over. To be sure, If the season kept
up, If a good run came in, that balance
would be wiped out. But the demand
| that had emptied his pockets before
-. He sighed uneaSily and thrust
| the book back into its place. Helma
was the one on whom he lavished his
money; Helma, his daughter. And
| Dravhan would take her with that debt
| unpaid, and she-he cursed audibly-
| would go. The sole object Of his hard
somber, absorbing love loved another
| And that other2
With quiet word he reused the
boat-puller. and said: wind up the
| alarm clock. Give her three hours"
| Dravhan slowly obeyed, and set the
clock down in tin basin under a seat
| After look abroad the captain laid
! himself down on the bottom grating,
| and with his head on a fold of sail
lapsed again into immobility. The
| boat -puller also stretched himself out
| in the forepart of the tumbling craft,
| and was soon asleep.
Within an hour Vragnizan rose
quietly and looked at the clock. Two
hours later the tide would turn. He
peered out into the shadows to fix his
| position, and a savage smile crossed
| his face. Inside of two hours they
| would have drifted down into the
clutch Of the bar. Dravhan figured on
the tides, did he? All, yes! but this
time he had missed. The lights of a
launch crossed toward Sand Island,
and the captain winlxed at them with
inert hand. Then he crouched down
and waited, listening to the gusty wind,
the slapping seas, the tense roar of the