Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1902-08-29

ing that his father could not understand
at once. "oh SIR he pleaded. 'let
me tell you before you say anything
morel She is Just from the prairies,
and
"And yen do well to take her back to
the prairiesl" With the words old Con-
lon closed the door on his son.
From that moment the tale of the
twenty years was a cherries, sordid one
taking Jim Conlon as hero. for he
squandered the last cent of the $4,000
in sprees that decreased In length and
intensity as the capital dwindled. But
taking Wanna gan-tu, the Indian wife,
as heroine, it should be written that
she stuck to the man as the noblest
Godfearing women of the world have
done since tales like this have been
She was never as a whipped dog. either.
licking the hand that beat her, for Con-
lon kept his love for her clean out of the
muddle of his life: and she wore that
love like a crown. And the three half
breed girls that grew up in the changing
camps of their shiftless father came to
hold him in open alteration. Oncd
when a neighbor heard that the family
had been living on cornmeal and milk
for a week. an offer was made to take
the eldest girl as helper to the farmers
wife. That was when they lived in
Missouri. It was a kindly impulse that
sent the man. the offer half charity, and
Conlon knew II.
GO get your slaves at another place"
was his quick answer. and the daugh-
ter turned a ragged. disdainful back on
the farmer
Then there came to Conlon's ears the
tale Of the breaking up of the Sac and
Fox reservation in the Indian Territory.
He judged that his wife and daughters
ought to share in any spoils that might
ha naff af ffa Ind
wife acquiesced, and the girls helped to
hitch the two ponies to the rickety old
wagon. The end of the migration was,
as has been told. when the wagon wheel
fell to pieces in front of Mike Lannigan's
ranch house. And the tale of the twenty
years came out in his first spree.
Lannigans bottom land was rich, the
old Irishman an indulgent landlord. At
the first harvest time Conlon had very
thin bundle of notes and a thirst that
gnawed like a famished wolf. He drove
with the Indian wife to the little Terri
tory town, tried to buy whiskey, but
was baked by the Prohibition Law. He
sent his wife home in the wagon, a bag
of -four and share of bacon with her.
and hurried to the nearest Missouri town
to buy the liquor that he craved. The
Indian woman and the half-breed girls
waited for him, meeting the fresh in
quiries with a silent, chilling dignity
that left them clear of troublesome ques-
TONERS.
At the end of the two weeks conlon
sent notice of his return. and asked
his wife to come to the little town to
meet him.
1t was raining on the day that his wife
drove in to meet Conlon, a steady
drenching rain that dotted the prairies
with shallow lakes and raced down the
ravines in impetuous floods Crossing
a Rirr che =.
the morning, the bottom of the wagon
was covered with water, and when the
two came back in the late afternoon 1t
was ten-feet-deep seething torrent that
crowded the banks. Wagons, saddle
horses, and men cut off from their homes
were collected on the bank of the creek
when Conlon came up.
Reckon we don't drive across today,
Conlon." said Lannigan, coming up to
the two In the wagon. "Ye'd best put
back to the town wild me, and wait for
the fall tomorrow"
mo; the girls'n be waiting for me-"
replied Conlon, and the Indian wife made
no sound of protest
Besides, Mike Lannigan," he went on
argumentatively, the effect of the whis-
key not yet worn OFF, I'm well able to
manage the two of us in the biggest
HOOD that ever started to the Missis-
sippi."
fe're fool to say that, Jim Conlon,"
retorted Lannigan. Come along back
Jim, and don't try anything foolhardy."
I'm show We it's not foolhardy I ann"
Conlon sprang out of the wagon and
plunged into the yellow water before a
word of protest reached him. He had
fought the surf too often in his summer
cruises along the East Coast, when he
was Harvard undergraduates. to dread
this puny current, and, numbered as he
was by his clothes, swan back and forth,
laughing at the men ashore. Coming to
land, he climbed to the wagon seat beside
his wife and turned his ponies to the
floods edge. But Lannigan made anoth-
er protest.
For the love o'heaven. Jim. don't
drown yer wife, even If the devil and the
whiskey we've drunk will presarve YER
self Come, Mrs. Conlon, jump out"
The old ranchman knew the danger bet
ter than did Conlon.
Hes a cowardly fool, my woman"
Conlon biurted out. 1--WE, must get
along to the girls. "a 3
IF Jim says it's, safes will 60" she
gripped Conlon's arm, as he dashed the