Barbour County index., 1904-02-17
ALost Revenge
By JAMES BUcKHAM

Copyright, 1908, by Daily Story Pub. Col

A GREAT, lone rock rises like min
"A iature Gothic castle in the center
OF Nova Scotian barren" All about
1t sweeps the wide waste of marsh, car
peted with gray moss and bristling with
stunted, wiry bareback. OF to the east
ward, barely Visible through encircling
brush and reeds, CLEANS shallow lake,
like a silver platter lost in the grass.
Desolation everywhere-desolatio SOL
itude and silence.
A gray October sky was lowering over
the barren when my guide and entered
it, coming suddenly out of the dark,
thick woods. The sun was just going
down in bank of copper-colored mist
on the distant horizons edge. The soli-
tary rock looming before us was the
only object that broke the wide, monot-
onous expanse of the plain. THAT"
said my guide, 'is Peter Pardeau's
calling-rock. Many was the moose
Peter called up and shot from there.
And once, they say, he shot a white
moose. I'll tell you the story in camp,
tonight"
We trailed across the barren in a
thread of a path through brush and
moss-a path that none but a guides
eye could follow in the gathering twi-
Highland, skirting the northern end
OF the little lake, struck timber again.
climbed knoll, and came to trim,
peeled-log camp, with the quaint sign
0eer its door-"What Cheer?" Good
cheer it meant for us, that night, wet
and weary and hungry as we were from
12-1nile walk through the painless for
est. The tight little stove glowed red
hot; the freshly cut balsam browse" in
the hunks gave forth it's delicious
aroma; the moose-steak from the pack
simmered in the spider, and from the
coffee-pot rose that fragrant steam
whicn every camper associates with the
feasts of the outdoor gods.
After supper came the pipes and the
guides story of Peter and the white
moose, which, for the readers sake, /
must tell in fewer words than the guide
used, as he leaned hack against the logs,
blowing long clouds Of smoke across the
stove.
Peter Pardeau, when he was young
man-so said the guide-loved girl OF
his own Arcadian village, wisp of white
cottages nesting by the shore of ST.
Mary's Bay Both young people were
descendants Of the old French settlers
of the province, whose romantic story
has been so beautifully told by Longfel-
low in "Evangeline." But Peter was
not the only one Of fair Theresa's lovers,
for she was the most winsome girl in all
the parish; and among the other suit
ors was handsome, dashing, unscrupu-
lous courier de bois, .Gaspard Lanelois
by name, who vowed he would marry
the maiden if he had to carry her away
by force This imposing fellow was
Peters only real rival, for, while she
cared nothing for her other suitors, it
was plain to be seen that Theresa ad-
mired Gaspard greatly, and was in dan
ger of losing her heart to him in spite
of the affection which had been growing
up between herself and Peter since their
childhood.
Peters love affair was at this criti
cal pass when he was suddenly called
away to the states by the death Of h:
father, who had gone to Boston with
cargo of fish, and caught fever while
lying in port there. During Peters alb
sence on the sad mission Of bringing
home his fathers body for burial Gas
pard succeeded in persuading There's;
to run away with him to Quebec, where
they were secretly married. Gaspard
as it afterwards appeared, had poisoneC
Theresa's mind by certain evil storie
about Peter, which. though false il
every particular, had caused the fool
ish girl to believe her lover untrue t
her. In a mNMent of bitter anger, jeal
ousy and disappointment she had con
sented to reQuite Peter by eloping wit
his rival. All this Peter learned afte
It was too late to right the wrong don
him. Gaspard and Theresa had dis
appeared; nor did they ever afterwar
return together to the village that ha
been Theresas home. OF his sweet
hearts fate Peter could learn nothing
She had utterly vanished out of his life
But her memory did not die, and as lon
as he lived the wronged lover vowe
that he would revenge himself upon tn
hated Gaspard Langlois, II ever fat
threw the chance in his way.
For many years, Peter Pardeau, exile
by a broken heart lived the life of
forest hermit. His fame as a hunte
spread far and wide. There was no on
who could equal him in calling up th
iordly bull moose in rutting time; nor
who could follow the trail of moose {
bear or caribou so unerringly; none wh
could shoot rife or read the signs {
the woods with such mastery skill.
It was not long bsfore Peter Pardea