Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1903-03-05
BLACK ROCK.
CONTINUED from page A

Lie is dead," answered Graeme in
differently.
You killed him?" she asked eagerly.
Graeme looked at her curiously and
answered slowly:
81 did not mean to. He came at me.
struck him harder than l knew. He
never moved"
She drew a sigh of satisfaction and
waited
Il got him to a private ward had
the best doctor in tie city and sent for
Craig to Victoria. For three DAYS we
thought he would live-he was keen to
get home-hut by the time Craig came
we had given up hope. Oh, but l was
thankfri to see Craig come in. and the
JOY in the old mans eyes was beautiful
to see! There was no pain at last and
no fear. He would not allow me to re-
proach myself, saying over and over,
You would have done the same for
me, as would, fast enough and it is
better me than you. am old and done
You Will do much good yet for the
boys. And he kept looking at me till
! could only promise to do my best.
But | am glad told him how much
good he had done me during the last
year, for he seemed to think that too
good to be true, and when Craig told
him how he had helped the boys in
the camp and how Sandy and Baptiste
and the Campbells would always be
better men for his life among them
the old mans face actually shone as if
light We're coming through. and with
surprise and joy he kept on saying:
DO you think 50? Do you think so?
Perhaps so. perhaps So At the last he
talked of Christmas night at the camp.
You We're there, you remember. Craig
had been holding Il service, and some
thing happened, l don't know what.
but they both knew"
.ow," l said, and saw again the
pc, ere of the old man under the pine,
upon his knees in the snow, with his
face turned up to the stars.
Whatever it was, it was in his mind
as the very last, and l can never forget
his face as he turned it to Craig. One
hears of such things. I had often, but
had never put much faith in them. But
JOY, rapture. triumph-these are what
We're in his face as he said, his breath
coming short:
You said-he wouldn't-fail me you
wereright-not once-not once-he stuck
God-for you-you showed-me-Ill
see him-and-tell him And Craig,
kneeling beside him so steady was
behaving like fool-smiled down
through his streaming tears into the
dim eyes so brightly till they could see
no more. Thank him for that. He help
ed the old man through. and he helped
me, too. that night thank God"'
And Graeme's voice, hard till now,
broke in a sob.
He had forgotten US and was back
beside his passing friend, and all his
self control could net keep back the
flowing tears.
"It was his life for nine" he said
huskily.
The brother and sister were quietly
weeping, but spoke no word, though l
knew Graeme was waiting for them.
l took up the word and told of what
l had known Of Nelson and his intlu-
ence upon the men of Black Rock.
They listened eagerly enough, but still
without speaking. There seemed moth
ing to say till l suggested to Graeme
that he must get some rest. Then the
girl turned to him and, impulsively put
ting out her hand, said:
"Oh, it is all so sad, but how can we
ever thank you?"
THANK me?' gasped Graeme. Can
you forgive me? l brought him to his
DEATH"
NO mol You must not say SOP she
answered hurriedly. You would have
done the same for him."
God knows l would" said Graeme
earnestly. land God bless you for your
wordsI'
And l was thankful to see the tears
start in his dry, burning eyes.
We carried him to the old home in
the country, that he might lie by the
side of the wife he had loved and
wronged. A few friends met us at the
wayside station and followed in sad
procession along the country road that
wound past farms and through woods
and at last up to the ascent where the
quaint old wooden church, black with
the rains and SHOWS of many years,
stood among it's silent graves. The lit
tie graveyard sloped gently toward the
setting sun. and from it one could see,
far on every side, the fields of grain
and meadowland that wandered off
over softly undulating hills to meet the
maple woods at the horizon, dark,
green and cool. Here and there white
farmhouses, with great barns standing
near, looked out from clustering Or
chards.
Up the grass grown walk and
through the crowding mounds. over
which waves uncut the long, tangling
grass, we bear our friend and let him
gently down into the kindly bosom of
Mother Earth. dark, moist and warm.
The sound of a distant cowbell mingles
with the voice Of the last prayer; the
clods drop heavily with heart startling
echo: the mound is heaped and shaped
L.