Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1902-12-11

4
never guessing lat a little gentleman
| of France. who died like soldier of
his wound. lies deeply Graded there.
Before throwing myself down in the
| dead. heaviness which results from contin-
/ ual loss of sleep, 1 questioned the wound
! ed British soldiers about Paul. None of
them had seen him. Struggling bands Of
Indians continually Joined their force.
| Captives were always a possibility in the
savage camp. Paul might have been
| taken hundreds of miles away.
But 1 had the padlocked book, which
might tell the whole story. With desper-
| ate haste that could hardly wait to open
/ the lids, I took 1t out, wondering at the
| patience which. long self-restraint had
bred in me. I was very tired, and stretch
| ed my arms across the pillow where
| PauPs head had lain, to rest one instant.
| But must have slept. My hand woke
first, and feeling itself empty, grasped at
the book. 1t was gone, and so was the
| sun.
got a light and searched, thrusting my
arm between the bunk and the log wall
1t was not on the floor, or in my breast
| pocket, or in my saddle bags. The robbery
! was uncomfortable. And knew the Indian
who had done it, He was the quietest
most stubborn Oneida that ever followed
/ an adopted white man. Why he had taken
| the book / could not understand. But l
Il
out of my hand while 1 slept. He would
not break the paddock and read it, but
| like tudicious father he would take care
| of a possibly unwholesome volume him
| self.
/ went out and found the bald-headed
and well-beloved wretch. He was sitting
with his knees to his chin by the evening
| log fire.
"Skenedonk," said, ''I want my book"
Children and books make a woman of
you" he responded. you had enough
T, books at Longmeadow."
at want 1t at once'I repeated.
It's sorcery." he answered.
Its a letter from Madame de Ferrier
and may tell where she is
His fawn eyes were startled but he
continued to hug his knees.
''Skenedonk, / can't quarrel with you.
You were my friend before I could re-
| member. When you know am so bound
/ to you, how can you deal me a deadly
! hurt?"
white woman sorcery is the worst
sorcery. You thought never saw 1t. But
did see 1t. You went after her to Paris.
] You did not think of being the king. So
! you had to come back with nothing.
That's what woman sorcery does. Now
you have power with the tribes. The
president sees you are a big man! And
| she sends a book, to you to bewitch you'll
knew she sent the book as soon as I
saw it,"
do you think she sent Paul?''
He made no answer.
Madame de Ferrier does not know
| have the book.
you haven't it," said skenedonk.
But you have,
"If she wrote and sent a letter she ex-
pected it would be received
when said a letter meant what is
called journal; 1.-The writing DOWN of
| what happens daily. Johnny Appleseed
got the book from an Indian. That is how
| it was sent to me-,
IF you read 1t you will want to drop
| everything else and go to find her.
This was the truth. for was not under
military law. p e.
Where is the book?'
felt the loose buckskin.
"It isn't there"
"In my front" said Skenedonk.
ran my hand over his chest, finding
nothing but bone and Drawn.
There it is" he said, pointing to a
curled wist of board at the edge of the
| fire. II burnt it,
Then you've finished me-
I turned ana left him sitting like an
| image by the fire.
v.
Before 1 left Fort Stephenson, 1 wrote
I a letter TO Count de Chaumont, telling
him about Paul's death and asking for
news of the De Terriers. The answer 1
begged him to send to Sandusky, which
the British now despaired of taking. But
| although Skenedonk made a long journey
for it twice during the half year, got
no answer.
The dangerous work of the next few
months became like a long debauch.
Awake. we were lodging betwixt hostile
tribes, or dealing with those inclined to
peace. Asleep, 1 was too exhausted to
dream. 1t was a struggle of the white
! force Of civilization with the red sense of
Justice I wrestied with Algonquin dia-
| lects as 1 had wrestled with Greek. OF
tawas and Chippewas, long friendly to the
| French, came more readily than other
trIUes to agreement with Americans.
Wherever / went 1 pushed the quest
| that was uppermost in my mind, but with
out finding any trace of Madame de Fer
| rier.
From the measure constantly taken be-
| twixt other men of my time and my
self. this positive knowledge resulted.
| In spite of the fact that many treated
| me ais prince, l found myself an aver
age man. / had no military genius. In
argument, persuasive, graceful-even elo-
quent-were the adjectives applied to me;
not sweeping and powerful. L should have
IIlduG JOB-NiON Nib AAO bONNCA NHeAlA my
uncle of Provence; no worse than my
uncle of Artois, who would rather saw
wood than reign a constitutional monarch
and whom the French people afterward
| turned out to saw wood My reign might
have been neat; it would never have been
| gaudily splendid. AS an average man,
could well hold my own in the world.
Perry on the lakes. General Jackson in
| the southwest, Harrison in the west, and
| Lawrence on the ocean were pushing the
war towards its close; though as late as
spring the national capital was burned
| by the British, and a gentleman whom
| they gaily called "Old Jimmy Madison"
| temporarily driven out. But the battle on
the little river Thames, in October, settled
\ matters in the northwest.
The next April after Leipsic, Napoleon
Bonaparte was banished to the island of
| Elba; and Louis XVIII passed from his
latest refuge at Hartwell house in Eng
| land to London; where the Prince Regent
honored him and the whole capital cheer
ed him: and thence to Paris where he
was proclaimed king Of France. We heard
of it in due course, as ships brought
news. 1 was serving with the American
| forces
/ The world is fluid to a boy. He can do
and dare anything. But it hardens around
! a man and becomes a wall through which
| ne must cut. 1 felt the wall close around
me.
In September was wounded at the bat
| ~ ffcht On Lake CharnrIafu