Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-10-20

chatter the other side it. She only left
| off talking to call for lelp and left off
| calling for help to scold and laugh again.
There was a man imprisoned with her,
| and they were speaking English, a Ian
guage / did not then understand. But
! what had happened to them was very
| plain. They had wandered into a pen
! built by hunters TO trap bears. and could
not find the bush-masked and winding
opening, but were travelling around the
walls. 1t was lucky for them that bear
had not arrived first. though in that case
their horses must have smelled him. 1
heard the -easts shaking their brides.
l found my way to the opening, and
whistled. At once the woman ceased her
chatter and drew in her breath. and they
| both asked me a question that needed no
Interpretation. 1 told them where they
! WERE and the woman began talking at
, once in my own tongue and spoke 1t as
we'll as I could myself
"In. bear pen? George, he says we are
| in bear pen! Take us out, dear chief.
| before the bear family arrive home from
| their ball. 1 don't know whether you are
chief or not, but most Indians are. My
| nurse was a chiefs daughter. Where are
you? I can't see anything but chunks of
| blackness."
1 took her horse by the bride and led
i him, and so got both the riders outside.
They had no finder and neither had I;
| and all of us CROPPED for the way by which
| they had come to the boar pen. The
, young man spurred his horse in every
! direction, and turned back unable to get
through.
Though we could not see one another
I knew that both the Adventures were
young, and that they expected to be call
ed to severe account for the lawless act
they were committing. The girl, talking
English, or French, or Mohawk almost
in one breath, took the blame upon her
self and made light of the boys self-re-
proaches.
She laughed and said: My father thinks
I am with Miss Chantry, and Miss
Chantry thinks I am with my father. He
will blame her for letting me ride with
! George Croghan to meet him, and lose
the way and so get into the bear pen. And
she will blame my father, and your dear
est Annabel VIII let the Count de Chau-
mont and Miss Chantry fight it out. 1t
is not an affair for youth to NEEDLE with,
George.
Having her for interpreter the boy and
I consulted. might have led him back
to our hunting camp, but it was hard
road for a woman and an impossible one
for horses. There was no inhabited house
nearer than De Chaumont's own. He de-
cided they must return to the road by
which they had come into the bear pen,
and gladly accepted my offer to go with
him; dismounting and leading Annabel de
Chaumont's horse while l led his. We
passed over rotten logs and through black
bangles, the girl bending to her saddle
bow, unwearied and full of laughter. 1t
was plain that he could not find any out
let and falling with the numbered horse
he let me guioe the party.
I do not know by. what instinct felt
my way. conscious of slipping between
the wild citizens of that vast town OF
trees; but we finally reached a clearing
and saw across the open space lighted
cabin. It's sashless windows and defective
chinks were gilded with the yellow light
that comes from a glowing hearth.
1T know this place!" exclaimed Anna
bel 'It is where the Saint-M ichels used
20 live before they went to my fathers
settlement at lie Rayville. Look at the
house! Nobody nves there. 1t must be
full of witchesl'' 49,
Violin music testified that the witches
were merry. We halted. and the horses
Weighed and were answered by others of
their kind.
George Croghan's grandmother was
struck by a witch ball. And here her
grandson stands, too tired to run. But
perhaps there aren't any witches in the
house. 1 don't believe wicked things
would be allowed to enter It. The Saint
Michels were so pious, and ugly, and re-
signed to the poverty Of refugees. Their
society was so good for me, my mother,
when she was alive, made me venerate
them until 1 hated them. Holy Sophie
died and went to heaven. shall never
see her again. She was. indeed. excellent.
This can't be nest of witches. George,
why don't you go and knock on the
door?"
1t was not necessary for the door open
ed and a man appeared, holding his violin
by the neck. He stepped out to look
around the cabin at some horses fasten-
ed there and saw and hailed US.
1 was not sorry to be allowed to enter,
for I was tired to exhaustion, and sat
down on the floor away from the fire.
The man looked at me suspiciously.
though he was rudy and good natured.
But he bent quite over before De Chau-
mont's daughter, and made flourish with
his hand in receiving young Croghan.
There were in the cabin with him two
women and two little girls; and Ca
madam servant like a fat brown bear
came from the rear of the house to look
at us and then went back to the horses.
All the women began to speak, but An
Mabel de Chaumont could talk faster than
the four others combined, so they knew
our plight before we learned that they
were the Grignon and Tank families, who
were going into the west to find settle
ment and had made the house their camp
for one night. The Dutch maid, dark and
round-eyed, and the flaxen little Grignon,
had respects lor their elders and held
their tongues while Madame Tank and
Madame Grignon spoke, hut Annabel de
L-.aumont was Ike a grove of sparroWs.
The world seemed swarming with young