Williston graphic. (Williston, Williams County, N.D.) 1895-1919, 1903-11-19
FRANZL.
e. AUGUST Mitchell
COpyrtsht, lsos, By Daily Story Pub. co.,

4 CAoAC0 AAVo O0AVA W. ~ 40 AO~
you to take or leave" Schelmer
heard the, words his friend spoke to
him in silence. 1t was not the first
time Pollard had striven to help him,
but each time heretofore there had
been something. impracticable in 1t.
This time. however, no single note OF
discord appeared in the plan. All
seemed plain sailing, so plain; and
yet Schelmer hesitated.
"You give me time for reflection"
Certainly, but the chance does not
remain open indefinitely. Some man
must fill it, and Schelmer, you have
been given the preference"
eyes, I know"
Down the straight parallel lines OF
steel flashed the headlight of the COM
ing train. simultaneously with the
appearance came the shrill call for the
signal. It was given. The steam was
shut of, and the train rumbled up I'M
der its own momentum. Schelmer
turned idly and watched it. At the
moment the fantasy flashed across his
mind that this relentless oncoming
monster was the physical representa-
ton Of his chance. It slowed down,
ali. for his elm bling aboard, and il he
did not the power would be turned on
again, and he and his little world
would be left to blink after the
rear lights, while the chance itself, his
opportunity, would speed on, unknow-
ing, uncaring, never to return.
Pollard's hand sought his and he
awoke with q start.
Already" he muttered stupidity.
II didn't know you went SO soon.
Well. then, If you must. goodbye.
Keep me in mind, and be assured, Ill
answer SOON"
For his part, Pollard said just the
right words of reassuring cheer and
goodwill, and then he, too, said good
bye, and swung aboard the nearest day
coach. From the platform he waved a
last farewell, and the train slowly
drew away from the miserable little
station.
Unblinkingly. Schelmer watched it
disappear. Then he arose, and though
there were friends and acquaintance
ct the station, he left them behind and
walked on alone.
At last had come to him that thing
which comes to no man twice. In that
career dreaming hours had been
mapped out before him, there at last
beckoned q sure call. Long had he
waited for just such, and now that it
was proffered him, he found himself
dumb, all but overcome. Silence he
craved, and cold reflection; therefore
he chose to walk his way alone. His
friends noted the action, and though
he was companionable at al; times, SO
clearly was his preference expressed
here that no one dared intrude.
Some distance away from the sta
ton lay his home, and unconsciously
toward it he turned. It was as of a
man seeking sure counsel, but knowing
not whittier to turn, being guided by
some instinct to the only haven.
On the piazza, seated in his favorite
rocking chair, smoking favorite Ger
man pipe, sat his father. On the floor
beside him lay the little paper hereceived
internationally from the "Heimath,"
and which was to him as an oracle
srtaking from some shrine of Diana.
"Vell, Hans, your trent hat gomez"
he asked.
Schelmer nodded his head as he
dropped on the step at his fathers
feet
Eyes. he's gone"
"Vat he hat say?" Old man Schel-
mer did not. ask this out of curiosity.
1t was merely perfunctory effort to
be sociable.
Lots of things" replied the boy.
He plucked q leaf from the morn
Ing glory vine and twirled it between
his fingers. Here was peace, such d.
vine peace! Over across the river,
whose fringe of wood even in the star
light loomed dark and forbidding, he
heard the cry Of certain birds of the
night. Time without number had they
sung his lullaby in the younger days,
and he had come to love them with the
love of early association. Nearer by
he heard the uneasy stamping of the
horses in their stalls. A restless cock,
seeing the flash of lantern, gave
sleepy cry for daylight from the hen
house in the backyard. From down be-
low the river bluff came the muffed
-ker-chug of a rowboat.
"Dere's moskeeters here" said old
man Schelmer. half to himself.
After moment the young man
chined in absently:
Eyes, here some singing around
here"
He arose to his feet uneasily and
stretched himself. He wanted to do
something, he did not know what That
the load on his mind worried him. he
scarcely admitted even to himself.
The old man watched him closely.
'Dere ISIS funny tings sometimes
happens to beeples," he volunteered
impersonally. He waited a long while
to let this sage observation soak into
the brain of the boy, and then he con-
tinued:
'.You hat hear me speak of Franz
Heimler?"
Young Schelmer nodded as he