The Cooperstown courier. (Cooperstown, Griggs Co., N.D.) 1902-1913, 1904-06-09


chickens preparing to roost.ssin the
cedar trees. e. T.
But. while tha sospseds splashSd ara
the sWaterSttrs4 med land drippe4s oyf
the aoor, Hhe sthrifsT HI 1sewife blsted
hesaslf at3idytng thins onssh Hascch,
for glance at the young buck made
her realize the propriety of her pres
ence on the scene. "I'll do what I
have always. intended to do with this
game-bag," she said, half aloud. ut
has hung here long enough collecting
trash. This ia good time-to overhaul
it and throw the rubbish away"
I. The game bag was . penderoua.'
leather thing, and its capacity appar-
entity unlimited. Old fishhooks and
tackle came first, rusted and rotten
from long sdisuse:: Then hatchets,.
horseshoes, gopher-traps, doorknobss
coils of wire, shot-pouches, rubber
gloves-everything, in short, that a
catch-aM of such sort collects in the
course of 20 years. The last thing
brought ND was an old hunting knife
an ugly-looking weapon, broad, and
short, with rude deer-horn handle.
The blade was rusted, and looked as If
not cleaned after its last thrust.
The white hands touched it gingerly.
81 don't know what to do with allsthese
things after ALL" the woman said.
looking up into the quizzical eyes of
the tall young fellow, who came sing
ing Bonnie Doom" through the house.
whistled the dogs over from. the
stable, stirred the drowsy canary into
a flood of song, and sent the cats
scampering away from the neighbor-
hood of the .meat-safe. They were
your fathers things, Hal, when he
wasn't much: older than: you,," she ex-
planned in the subdued tones in which
one instinctively refers to the dead.
But the duty on hand was temporarily
dropped when the boy announced that
a book agent was in the front hall,
and the contents of the game-bag were
left in heap on the floor.
Sikra bent low over her tubs, but
now her eyes were wild, and every
nerve in her body tingled with excite
ment., The back Of her ssbenefa6t ress
was scarcely turned when the hunting
knife was swept into her hands and
stealthily concealed under; ,her: apron.
Her boy did not follow her actions,
but sat idly in the sunshine. watching
the lower branches of the cedar, filling
with its tenants for the night. :. Mean
while the pile of clean clothes grew
with surprising rapidity. A wonder
full energy was at work rubbing, rims
ing, wringing, and soon the work was
completed, and the squaw departed
WIN The pe esi sp1 WEEKS Washing was ..ccons
plished with the same degree of I'M
wonted energy. Sikra stood upright,
no longer bent and Idecrepit. Her hour
of triumph was come: The knife still
hung az her belt-the knife she had
watched Black Wing make from the
horn st the deer She had seen him Kill.
AT. last. Sikra had found ? trace of one
Eof s.herSf mani masderers.sI This fact
iWSrked itssfsloYN insatSer darkened
fmlnd, I'LL tAs knife the game-bag
tEcrled Ait we'simpaication in the
crime.
But now, at the very moment of her
impending triumph, q. shadow, fell
,nhwart Her CLEAN 7iof hope AZ The boy,
nurtured into stalwart manhood for
one end, looked at her listlessly when,
with dilated eyes and hushed voice,
she told him the story Of hersdiscovery.
He did not seem to even hear her tale.
After a sleeplesss night, she went s.,
rouse him and try again to wake the
vengeance in bis blood, but he did not
L know her. 49, ( III y.
wild with apprehension; the old
squawiss first thought was Of! Mrs.
Howe, her never-failing source Of sue
cor. The kind eyes up at the white
house grew large with sympathy and
dread. tIt's only a fever, sikra;' .
young Hal came forward to assure her,
and catching up his hat he followed the
distraught mother to her little hut.
The wild, black eyes that met his,
as he entered, startled him with their
ferocity, and the wilder words held
him on the threshold. But Sikra's
dumb look of appeal prompted him to
enter the room. The calm presence,
and the cool, firm hands of the white
boy seemed to lay the fever-devils.
And the thought that the fever might
be contagious was overbalanced in his
mind by the grief of the squaw mother.
,'He must not die; he must not die"
she walled. II raise him for now!
For just now!"
The weeks that followed were grim
struggle with the fever-devils that
filled the Indian boys frame. When
his wild rawlings and threats of venge-
ance rose to shrieks and threatened
to exhaust the Pickering fame of life,
nothing but the cool, strong hands that
had first quieted him had any power
to calm him.
"Poor old Sikra's heart seems set on
his accomplishing something before he
dies" young Howe explained, one day
to his mother. ut is pitiful to see her
hopelessness whenever the Symphonic
are discouraging." And when others
said: "Let the good-for-nothing red
skin die; he is menace to the neigh
borhood," the boys blue eyes flashed