The aegis & intelligencer. [volume] (Bel Air, Md.) 1864-1923, 1905-06-30
The Cry On The Trail.
BY GERTRUDE DIX.

BY GERTRUDE DIN.
From san Francisco Argonaut.
In the high, bare sitting-room of a lone
ly ranch-house, with brown, unpainteC
walls and doors, and windows open to
the pine-clad mountain side, a man sal
at a small deal table reading over a pile
of cherished letters. They were writer
by a woman; dated from a house on Bea
con street, Boston, and they dealt will
books, with music, and with art. To the
reader, who was hard-pressed in the bat
tie of life, they seemed to let him into {
great treasure-house, while he longed fol
the more CONSTRUCTED walls ofa home; tht
simpler beauties of a fireside All, they
were so intellectual, these letters, and try
as he would, he could read nothing be
tween their lines! AS he turned over the
pages, a tiny child of three years old
with large rent in her pinafore, ran II
from time to time from the open air. AT
sight of her, the cry in the heart of the
ever. Both of them needed herman and
child, they needed her so much.
At length he took his pen and began to
write to her All her letters addressed
him as "Dcar Mr.. Geraldson;" his letters
to this date had been invariably super.
scribed to Dear Miss Vining" But now
he broke through the ysils Of reseF lXqst tIf
FYF9ts fn her All the idearestiwerlaa on
tearth ! caliag saer this hove. He athrsa
aside, allthe topics With which tie had
idailiedsb R8hg, and '' Wrote Simply Of him
self-of his own hopes and fears. He told
her how for years he had been wanting
to ask her to come out to him; how his
poverty had forbidden his doing SO; and
how, in spite of all his efforts, he had re.
manned poor and struggling, without
anything to give her. Two months ago
he had believed that at last his chance
had come. He had gone up into the
Trinity Mountains TO take up an offer OF
partnership in promising prospect he
had received from friend. But on the
long stage journey from Redding through
the heat and dust, he had fallen in with
an unfortunate Englishman, very sick
with typhoid, who had implored him to
stand by him and see him on his legs
again. Circumstances had been such
that it had been impossible in common
humanity not to stay with this man and
his little mite of motherless girl. So he
had nursed and tended him, and had ex.
perienced the satisfaction of pulling him
through the worst danger. But the poor
fellow, who was terribly impatient, had
attempted to get out of bed in spite o
every warning, and had died suddenly
one day from the passage of a clot o.
blood to the heart, when his nurse anc
little daughter had left him for a breath
of fresh air.
"And SO" went on the letter, Il fount
myself with the child on my hands.
haven't the heart to do anything but
keep her. For though apparently sh,
has no relatives or friends, she's a splen
did little piece of stuff, and it would b,
crime to send her to any institution
And the sequel of this is. my dear friend
that the venture which was to bring IN,
fortune, to give me the right to ask yot
for yourself, has come to naught By tn,
time had fixed everything up, my friend
unable to wait for me- had taken in an
other partner on the deal. l went pros
pecting near Wcaverville, but luck wa
against me- Then both the little grill
and myself fell sick with malaria, and 81
l came home to my pine trees again"
Here Geraldson's pen fell from his hand
for the fever had him in its grip, and h
was shaking miserab!y. Later on h,
managed to put the letter into an envel
ope addressed only with her name, TO
after all, he thought, he should neve
send it, and he left it on his table, think
ing that when he had strength again, h
would go on writing, just tor the sake o
the consolation it was merely to pretent
that he could tell her everything. Blu
the letter was never finished. He grew
rapidly weaker. till one morning h
found himself so sick that he could scarce
ly drag himself to the couch on the yer
anda to scan the landscape for the he'll
that never came. For Lone Pine Rancl
was isolated as only mountain rancho
can be, and no one might set foot on i
for weeks together. Now as he lay help
less, unable to move, lost sometimes Ii
suffocating blackness, the child brough
him water in the tiny cup-drops tina
tantalized rather than quenched hi
thirst-and he wondered what would be
come of her, and i'll his last coheren
moments told her to run out along tn,
trail and call with all her might. Tha
was the last thing he could do. Sool
after he ceased to move, and did no
hear the desolate wall that resoundet
through the empty house.
But Geraldson was not to lose himsel
forever in the dark water of unconscious
ness. Once more he felt himself alive, and
on the verge of sleep, lay with leaden eye
lids, unwilling to awake, till memoir,
of little Margery, whom he had last see1
weeping in a corner of the room, force
him to open his eyes. To his surprise hi
bed clothing covered him very neatly
The sheet was folded under his chin in
strange, comforting, new way, SO that
sense of peace and security fell on him