The Houma courier. (Houma, La.) 1878-1939, 1903-03-14

intent only upon its own struggle with
the tide and the floating ice. over and
over they rolled together, the man in
the peajacket fiercely struggling to
wreak his evaporation on Norton's
face wheneEera chance offered. 1T was
a bizarre struggle, what with its COM
ical aspects, and what with the threat
of tragedy that increased every mo-
ment, as Norton realized his oDpo-
nent's terrible earnestness. At last IL
seemed that the greater suppleness
and length of limb had triumphed;
Norton was on top, the other mans
arms securely held down in the snow.
But then arose the difficult question
how to dispose of this man safely and
vet humanely If positions had been
reversed, Norton would have been In
perilous case; a devil was 6larinp out
of the two eyes that met his, a reckless
demon of hate against the whole
world. Norton, on the contrary. had
no general grievance; in particular he
had no quarrel against the stranger
whom he held pinioned in the snow.
Only one person had been in his.
thoughts as he came down that lonely
side street, and her he would not have
harmed for all that life could afford.
1t had seemed, though, that death
would be for him a happy escape from
the agony of his meeting with her that
afternoon, finding her so affectionate-
ly intimate with that supercilfous mid
dle-aged, of. What's-His-N Name, and
his just resentment met with what
sounded to him like a heartless sneer,
and all this after years of absence in
constant love and hope, BY an logic
Norton ought to have been glad to let
the man in the peajacket get up and
kill him, but somehow his impulses
had all been changed by this chance
meeting with a fellow-creature to
whom life seemed as unbearable as
to himself.
The solution of the problem how to
release the desperate man came to Nor
ton when the painting stiffness was
feebly broken by the distant voice of
a child calling. The man on the
ground raised his head, as if by force
of habit, to listen. The voice came
nearer.
Papa! papa! Mamma wants you"
LET me up. That's my kid"
Norton jumped up delighted.
'Papa Mamma wants you to come
to her"
Here, Connie!'
The man in the peajacket sat up on
the snowy curb, trying to rid himself
OF the marks of his rough-and-tumble
in the snow. Norton was picking up
his tall hat when little girl in print
frock emerged from the darkness of
the street. The little girl appeared to
forget that it was a cold night, and
that her black wOOlen shawl thrown
over her head was a very slender pro-
lection. The shawl was trailing be-
hind her as she ran to her papa, and,
sobbing, threw herself into his arms.
"Oh, papa, she didn't mean it-mam-
ma didn't mean for you to go away
and never come back! Wen'tyou come
to her now, please, papa?"
Norton, brushing his silk hat, felt
once more moved to laughter-Per-
haps not the laughter of a merely
humorous appreciation, but still laugh
ter. Taught by his late experience, he
moderated his laugh to a hardly aud
ible chuckle, and then, as that excited
no fresh outbreak on the part of Con-
MES papa, he spoke up.
Yes, Copnie''-he had caught the
little ones name-"papa's going home.
But you mustn't catch cold, little girl.
Here!"
He was taking off his own overcoat
to throw over the child,when her IA
ther, still sitting in the snow hugging
her to his peajacket, looked up and
caught him in the act.
IF you take off that coat, you'll
cotch your death of noomOny, mister"
he said.
Il shall not have time for that, part
ner. Why not? Because I'm going to
send you home with Connie while go
the other way" He nodded in the di-
rection of the river, 81 have no home