Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1905-01-14

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all with her eyes-the eyes Of u girl fresh
from the old countFy-and | don't believe
she'd have been dissatisfied with il il
she'd got there.
But she never came-she never
game"
red moon climbed higher i'm the copper
sky. and turned slowly into il golden ball
that seemed TO hang far down into tine
plain.
. 'Iife out west was wild in those days
wilder by long chalk than it is now.
he said ut last. You've heard my tales
about the times we had with Indians.
But You never knew before that when |
was rfided there on tie ranch. and taken
tie the Apache camp. / had i wife wait
ing for me in England. | never told y9u
that. | didn't seem to be able TO talk
about II before. even though it's half Il
lifetime and more ago-half a lifetime
and more ago lie repeated like one in a
dream.
7 haven't got to 90 into MI the story
af thar raid again, yon know about that
lou know, because I've told you over
ana over again how they came upon mt
Wnen my mate was away IN the town
snip and | was alone They drove of
nay beasts, and they burnt the house Ia
built for kittr. and they carried me- away
and for seven long years | never heard
face.
Its no use 10 tell you about those
years. Most of it you know already
What | haven't told / can't tell now. and
that : the awful agony | went through
thinking Of my girl waiting for mo in
me old country and fancying what her
anguish must be. 1t won't bear talking
about--even now. Then l got free--you
know that tale toO-and my first thcught
was to make tracks for England and put
my poor little wife ont of her torture
Mind you, | was certain it must be the
same torture for her as il had been for
flie-only worse. because she had had the
eifden Of suspense TO carry.
Many and many Il time my heart
grew sick with longing in those weeks
before | set foot in England, and started
90 the last bit Of my journey. / had to
tramp 1t. Maybe | was foolish. maybe
wise, but something inside me prevented
nae from sending to let my friends know
mat / was coming. An awful terror that
they might be dead, and Kitty too. made
ile dread 10 write to them. / thought
! would just tramp home to see for my
self
IT was sprlngtlme when | reached
the village. The cuckOnS We're calling
across the cornicld and the larks sprang
from under my feet, singing as only Eng
llsi larkS can sing. The elns We're burst
ing into leaf. the high hedges in the lane
were covered with primroSes in the cot
tage gardens | saw great cIumps o. daft
fodils
Round the old church the rocks
wheeled and cawed. Everything looked
50 exactly as it had looked when | went
away that | took heart and began to
think I'd been 4 fool for my fears.
BUT something Still held me back
from going straight to the cottage where
| had left Kitty. Maybe | WAS afraid
she wouldn't know me now | was a
rough looking tramp with beard into
the bargain.
noticed that the people who passed
me III the lanes showed no sign Of rccog-
milton; it brought back my fears again.
Presently. rs | came to the lych gate.
I saw lot Of people in the churchyard.
folks going and coming. and a kind of
look Of hustle. The chestnut tree that
was yellow when | went away was pu
ting out green fingers now. Ii made my
heart beat To see Them
a boy sl0uched mp TO the gate. II
VAS nobody | knew, so / said to him:
W hat's to do in the church today?'
Wedding, he answered, all short,
country fashion.
and whose wedding might IT be?'
asked. wondering whether it was one
Of my old friends.
Wilder Craven's wedding. he said.
Then | gave great jump and looked
at him.
Craven was my namc-or rather the
name I'm giving You for mine--and /.
thought it must be my mother he meant
my mother who had been a widow for
years and years.
Widow Craven | said. after him.
NJ. Widow Craven, she's going to
marry Muster Dick Lane She lives in
the cottage down the lane. Her first
husband he went 10 foreign parts sew
erai years ago, and ne was KILLED by
the Indians scalped they do say.
II caught at the gate and stared mt
the boy. ! couldn't say a word, some
think struck me dumb.
What's up. muster, he said, cycling
me uneasily, did You know poor Muster
CravenY
.Ycs-no-at least. I've heard of him
! said, pulling myself together under the
lads fixed gaze. So he's dead. is he|
'Aus, he's dead, right enough. His
widow, she waited to know for sure that
he was dead, and his mate brought home
some of his things to her 50 they say.
So she's going to marry Muster Lane
Some say he was her first love. Maybe
you'd Ike to see the wedding. muster:
They re coming down the street now
Il Turned and looked up the village
toward the cottage 10y the curnhcld where
had said goodbye to Kitty. ami | cuuld
see party ~ folks coming along the
highway, and / felt something inside
me freeze into stone as l looked.
Il could have begun ny knocking the
lal down when h. told me that tale,
now | JGSt felt dumb.
Il turned away from him and walked
up the chti~chyard path ana into the
church. II Was full Of people, as it hau
been for my wedding seven years before
but though many heads were turned aS
| went in, nobody knew me. | crept
into place beside the door and waited
Il could see my mother from fer up
the aisle. She looked older, but there
was no sign of recent sorrow on her
face. She had got used To my loss by
that time. l supposed
Il heard one woman say to another,
I'oor old Mrs. Craven, this day Will
call her son To mind.
Aye. poor old LADY, said the other.
twas sad, too. her son dying like thar
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