Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1903-12-30


[SA the trees at the base Of the
hills. The air had touch Of
chill In it, for the October day in this
Southwestern Dakota country was
drawing to its close.
A man was lying at full length on
&he grass that the early frost had
touched and killed. The mans hands
were supporting his chin and his eyes
were looking far off across the rolling
prairies, which here met at the base
of the Black Hills. There was pain In
the gazing eyes. The voice Of a her.
anti thrush broke the silence. Instant
ay the look Of the mans eyes changed.
Pleasure and surprise took the place
OF pain. What wonder was this, a
Ghermit thrush singing in October its
song Of the springtime!
The man rose and looked toward the
copse whence the sound came. There
sat the bird, it's brown back REDEEMED
In the last rays Of the sun. The bird
sang ecstatically fer a full minute;
then sunset and silence.
Caleb Frye rose. He listened mo-
nent, hoping TO hear once more the
voice Of that prince Of singers, but
no sound came save the slight rustling
of the russet leaves. Caleb Frye turned
and walked with shambling gait east
ward away from the hills. He strobe
on for twenty minutes, and then,
rounding bit Of timber, came upon a
great, rambling ranch house. On the
veranda was young woman hardly
past girlhood. She waved him a well
come, which he answered with his
hand, but in his eyes there came the
aook that was there before the thrush
sang.
Caleb Frye had come to this Da-
kota country in search of health. He
was q student bent on following life
which meant confinement. He had
broken down, and the doctors had sent
min from New Hampshire to this far
of country to get his health. He was
a homely man, young, it is true, but
looking old. He was thin to attenua-
ton and of awkward carriage. His
eyes did little something toward re-
sdeeming his face from positive ugli-
mess, for there lay in their depths
something Of gentleness.
In the ranch house, the home Of old
John Driver and his motherly wife,
Caleb Frye had made himself a favor
ate. There he had met pretty Frances
No foo oh WIN do
her home there and refused to BOARD
sound" because she so dearly loved
Mother" Driver. Caleb Frye had not
KNOWN any woman intimately in his
whole life. He knew nothing of them.
He had had no true for anything but
the studies which held him chained.
Here In the foothills he had the time
and the opportunity, and he fell in
dove, but he made no sign.
Only short time after Caleb Frye's
coming there had arrived from the
East young fellow, handsome, athlet-
&c and gifted by nature with every
thing which had been withheld from
Caleb Frye.
Howard Deane had come to the
ranch on q land prospecting Grand
He was commissioned by some East
.ern capitalists to buy. He made John
DRIVERS house his headquarters, and
with the old ranchman had looked over
the whole territory for miles. How
ard Deane should have left three
Oveeks before, but he fingered. Caleb
Frye looked at Frances barrow, and
Glnew the reason for the lingering.
AS Frye walked toward the house
chat October evening, John Driver, his
wife and Deane joined the girl on the
porch.
What did you find to-day, Mr..
Frye" called Driver to him.
Caleb Frye held up bunch Of white
dowers. 81 found something rare"
he said.
"Them's weeds" said the ranchman.
Caleb Frye laughed. They're weeds
shat I'm mighty glad to get" he said.
E'This is the Aster linariifolius, and
never before have been able to find
any that were white. Most of lhem
are violet In color, and the white ones
are as rare as albino blackbirds."
You're a great one for flowers. birds
and the like, Mr.. Frye" said the ranch
snan, but l never could see anything
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