The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1903-06-06

hurrying down through the south
western corner of the ClawsOn ranch
to the creek.
when Mrs. Clawson saw her hus-
band bend to pick up an armful of
broken rock, she sat down contented-
ly near the open door; she braced the
small, square, coffee-mills firmly be-
tween her knees, and turned the
handle with a fierce spirited move
ment.
"Ciawson, dinners ready" she
called, half an hour later.
AS she went along the path she
pulled off the withered roses from
the bushes. When she came to the
barbed-wire fence, she stood looking
out critically across her neighbours
blighted corn-feld. Not a healthy
stalk to be seen anywhere among
those sickly plants; each one thirst
ing for water.
The ditch flowed rather noisily at
her feet as it ran along the steepest
part of the hill. Three hundred feet
west the creek sang musically in a
| HiuHneu roar. CSA
Mrs. Clawson's thin lips curved In
a downward crescent.
"Clawson," she called again. But
he was at her side; and followed her
heavily over the plank laid across
the trench.
| of ours" she said affectionately.
Took his rods and fy-book out with
him early this morning. Said he'd
be back at dinner-time, sure. Well,
Clawson, how'd you git along with
the work." She turned suspicious
eye on her husband.
Il frightened the WALL" he replied
meekly. ~
They walked along silently to the
kitchen door. Mrs. Clawson went on,
going round to the front of the
house. She looked about in every di-
rection, shading her eyes with her
brown, knotty hands. She tried to
decipher the spaces of shadow among
the thickets and trees near the creek.
She thought she saw a splotch Of
dark-red and gold color.
Must be the sun strikin' on the
back o wild cattle. They been a
strayin' round here lately"
She started toward the creek. Then,
with wavering movement, turned
and hurried back to the kitchen.
| you better start eatin'," she called
to Clawson. I'm goin' down to see
IL l can't see somethin' o. Bobbie.
Don't touch that light pinkish piece
of ham in the skillet; that's fer Bob
bic"
Mrs. Clawson walked with long
strides through the young orchard.
When she came to the bank, where
the foot-path descended prccipitate-
ly to the creek, she stopped, looking
up, down, across. The water dashed,
foaming, from among tumblcd mass
of powders.
She went down the path, brushing
against the willows. At the opening,
where the bushes had been cut away,
she could see the bend. The water
ran swiftly around the low, opposite
bank; broke into a stretch of little,
metallic-like waves. Over there the
trout might be caught by the hun
dred in an hour or two.
Mrs. Clawson thought she heard a
laugh. shrill and happy, above the
bubbling and chatter and roar of the
creek.
Then she saw young girl throw up
a line. on which dangled a frantic
fish. Near by, her son stoed, his
hands in his pockets, laughing.
| Mary Longs girl!
The same golden-red hair; the same
vivid coloring in the cheeks and lips;
the same dark, luminous eyes.
| Bobbie was now taking the fish off
the hook--not changing his gaze,
which she knew was tender, from the
face of Mary Longs girl.
Mrs. Clawson watched the young
trying to catch the writhing and leap
ing trout. She noted the soft, pretty
outlines of the girls figure as she
swayed forward to throw the fish out
| into the middle of the stream. She
saw the coquetry of Miss Longs de-
mure return to her sons side: the
challenge in her glance up to his.
But when he put his arms around
her she turned deliberately and
stamped firmly up the path.
Mr.. and Mrs. Clawson sat on the
back porch. 1t was growing dark.
| Mt. Sanhedrin was mere blur against
the sky; the entrance to the little
arbOr, over which the wild hOp-vine
rioted, was fading into the general
dimness.
For half an hour no word had been
| spoken. At last Clawson, summoning
up courage, said: II didn't think
you'd let him git SO far, mother, as to
be upstairs there alone packin' his
things"
81 didn't know you ever did any
thinkin' on any subject, Hi Clawson,"