The Denison review. [volume] (Denison, Iowa) 1867-current, 1906-07-26

The smile that accompanied the
words was at once anxious, hesitating
and inquiring. He closed the door with
awkward care and, coming a step near
er, put out his hand. Oakley, breathing
hard, rose hastily from his chair and
stood leaning against the corner of his
desk, as if he needed its support. He
was white to the lips.
There was long pause while the
two men looked into each others eyes.
Don't you know me, Dannie!' visit
fully. Dan said nothing, but he eX-
tended his hand, and his fathers fin
gers closed about it with a mighty
pressure. Then quite abruptly Roger
Oakley turned and walked over to the
window. Once more there WAS abso-
Lutte silence in the room save for the
ticking of the clock and the buZzing of
solitary fly high up on the ceiling.
The old convict was the first to
break the tense stiffness.
II had about made up my mind /
should never see you again, Dannie.
When your mother died and you came
west it sort of wiped out the little
there was between me and the living.
In fact, / really didn't know you would
care to see me- and when Hart told me
you wished me to come to you and had
sent the money l could hardly believe
it."
Here the words failed him utterly.
He turned slowly and looked into his
sons face long and lovingly. I've
thought of you as little boy for all
these years, Dannie, as no higher than
that" dropping his hand to his hip.
"And here you are man grown. But
YOU got your mothers look. I'd have
known you by it among a thousand"
If Dan had felt any fear of his father
it had left him the instant he entered
the room. Whatever he might have
done, whatever he might have been,
there was no question as to the man
ner of man he had become. He stepped
to his sons sideIand took his hand in
one of his own.
you've made man of yourself.
can see that. What do you do here for
a living?'
Dan laughed queerly.
81 am the general manager of the
railroad, father" nodding toward the
station and the yards. But it's no
much to brag about. It's only one
horse line,' he added.
mo, you don't mean it, Dannie:'
And he could see that his father wa
profoundly impressed. He put up hi
free hand and gently patted Dan
head as though he were indeed the Iii
tie boy he remembered
did you have an easy trip wes'
father?" Oakley asked. You must b
tired"
mot bit, Dannie. 1t was wonder
full. I'd been shut off from it all fo
more than twenty years, and each mil
was taking me nearer you"
The warm yellow light was begil
ming to fade from the room. 1t wa
growing late.
II guess we'd better go uptown
the hotel and have our supper. Whel
is your trunk? At the station?"
1--WE got nothing but a bundle. 1t
at the door,"
Dan locked his desk, and they lie
the Office.
"Is it all yours?" Roger Oakley as
ed, pausing as they crossed the yart
to glance up and down the curvir
tracks.
Its part of the property l manae
1t belongs to General Cornish,
holds most of the stock" sma
And the train 1 came ON, %; re
who owned that|
"At Buckhorn junction, where "
changed cars for the last time, "
caught our local express. 1t rul
through to a place called Harrison
the terminus of the line. This is on
branch road, you know"
But the explanation was lost on
father. His sons relation to the TO-
was magnificent fact which he pc
dered with simple pleasure.
After their supper at the hotel tn
went upstairs. Roger Oakley had be
given a room next his sons. 1t w
the same room General Cornish had
cupied when he was in Antioch.
"Would you like to put away yo
things now?' asked Dan as he plac
his fathers bundle, which he had c.
ried uptown from the Office, on
bed.
"I'll do that by and by. There al
much there-just few little thin
I've managed to keep or that Ia
been given me-"
Dan pushed two chairs before
onen window that overlooked