The Kinsley graphic. [volume] (Kinsley, Kan.) 1890-1940, 1904-02-12
ALost Revenge
BY JAMES BUcKHAM

fcopvricht 1sas. by DAILY story Pub. Co.,

oy JAMES oOSkA1<AN -
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
Copyright 1903 by Daily Story Pub Col
A. GREAT, lone rock rises like min
~ iature Gothic castle in the center
of Nova Scotian barren" ALI 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 silver platter lost in the grass.
Desolation OBSERVATION-DISCLOSURES, 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 a bank of copper-colored mist
on the distant horizons edge. The soil
tary rock looming before us was the
only object that broke the wide, monot-
onous expanse Of the plain. That"
said my guide, sis Peter Pardeau's
calliag-rock. Many was the moose
Peter called up and shot from there.
And once. they say, he shot white
moose I'll tell you the story in camp,
tonight"
We trailed across the barren in
thread Of a path through brush and
moss-a path that none but guides
eye could follow in the gathering twi-
Highland, skirting the northern end
of the little lake, struck timber again,
climbed a knoll, and came to trim,
peeled-log camp, with the quaint sign
over its door-"What Cheer?" Good
cheer it meant for us, that night, wet
and weary and hungry as we were from
a 12-mile walk through the painless for
est. The tight little stove glowed red
hot; the freshly cut balsam browse" in
the hunks gave forth its delicious
aroma; the moose-steak from the pack
simmered in the spider, and from the
coffee-pot rose that fragrant steam
which 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, I
must tell in fewer words than the guide
used, as he leaned back against the logs,
blowing long clouds Of smoke across the
stove.
Peter Pardeau, when he was a young
man-so said the guide-loved girl OF
his own Arcadian village, a 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-
tous courier de bois, Gaspard Langlois
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 adj
mired Gaspard greatly, and was in dan
ger of losing her heart to him in spite
Of the affection which had been growing
ND 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 his
father, who had gone to Boston with a
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 Theresa
to run away with him to Quebec, where
they were secretly married. Gaspard,
rs it afterwards appeared, had poisoned
Theresa's mind by certain evil stories
about Peter, which. though false in
every particular, had caused the fool
fish girl to believe her lover untrue to
her. In a moment of bitter anger, jeal-
ousy and disappointment she had con-
scented to requite Peter by clipping with
his rival All this Peter learned after
it was too late to right the wrong done
him. Gaspard and Theresa had dis
appeared; nor did they ever afterward
return together to the village that had
been Theresa's 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 long
as he lived the wronged lover vowed
that he would revenge himself upon the
hated Gaspard Langlois, if ever fate
threw the chance in his way.
For many years, Peter Pardeau, exiled
by a broken heart, lived the life of a
forest hermit. His fame as a hunter
spread far and wide. There was no one
who could equal him in calling up the
lordly bull moose in rutting time; none
who could follow the trail of moose or
bear or caribou so unerringly; none who
could shoot a rifle or read the signs Of
the woods with such mastery skill.
1t was not long before Peter Pardeau
FIRST began to use the great castle-like
bowlder in the barren beyond Lost lake
for calling rock" The shores OF the
lake were favorite feeding ground for
moose, and their trails led here and