Iron County register. [volume] (Ironton, Iron County, Mo.) 1867-1965, 1906-11-29

name of a future home was much In
this unchristened wilderness.
There was the planter from New Or
leans, the ruined player Of many
games; he must retrieve them in this
new land, and st. Charles would do
as well as another spot on which to
try the dice of fortune.
The octoroon, faithful, followed him.
Senior Gonzaga, too, rode with him.
Recognizing Owatoga, he attempted
to open a conversation with him, but
the Indian was unwilling-instinct
told him where this man was going,
and why. So he only responded by a
curt: II follow the sum-" to the Span
iard's: WHITTIER bound, my friend?"
The travellers were encamped about
a small spring, and Owatoga paused
long enough to water his horse, and
rode quickly on.
But Gonzaga overlook him, and
spoke low. you are bent on an err
rand for your master?"
The reply to this was a surly grunt.
"You are the bearer. Of a note to
Miss Creighton?" the questioner per-
sisted.
The Indian touched his pocket sig
nifcantly.
From the Spaniard's eyes flashed a
smile Of triumph, and emboldened by
his success thus far, perhaps I
might deliver it to the lady, and save
you the trouble?" he ventured.
At this the Indian frowned, and hia
ruddy face d%arlkened. But only for an
instant, then his hand sought the
pocket again, and withdrew the note.
Handing it to Gonzaga. you will
give it to the white maiden-quick?"
he demanded.
The effusive reply seemed to satisfy
him, for putting spur to his pony
Owatoga set off alone.
But at the end of a vista Of budding
trees he paused, and looked slyly over
his shoulder. Then from his saddle
bag he pulled another note. Satisfied
, that it was the last one viii which
Winslow had intrusted him, he pushed
+, it back with a grin of cunning, and
rode on.
: The S~paniard, too, smiled as he
Joined the more leisurely group. He
read the note Owatoga had given him,
. then tore it into tiny pieces. Blowing
these into the air. Go, pretty words"
! he whispered, "bear my greeting to
: the robins. Tell them you will make
s a warm lining for their nests in sum
t mer. Yes, by all the gods, a warm
: lining!"
CHAPTER XII.
The smoke from a frontier cabin
q curled lazily out of the chimney, and
mingled straight with the clouds.
!. There was no breeze at this twilight
hour-thc pulse of the world was still,
waiting the set of sum-. Slowly he
sank, entangled in a network of trees
r trees newly robed In the sparse vel.
~low-green Of April.
Some fowls picking among the
! gravel outside scurried away as q
4 woman came to the door, and, shading
! her eyes with her hand, looked across
' the small clearing, and the road skirt
ing 1t, to the forest beyond.
! Daughter, supper is ready" Hell
! voice had a weary note, but she smiled
! at sight of Lavender perched On thu
top step of the stile. The girl was
! watching the s-unset--subdued by thu
. mystical beauty Of the hour. She wal
I oppressed by an intense eagerness t.
grasp and hold the glory; saddened By
the effort to feel enough. To her ex
uberant soul, life seemed worthy o
much more than grudging nature gave
:. The sky was bathed in a flood O
! bronze and gold, with the tawny arm,
: Of the dying sun stretched to the zenitl
!. as In benediction on the world.
4 At one side Of the stilo stood a grea
pine--dead, but with here end there
faithful cone clinging to the branches
]. a. plowed field near showed an coca
\ sional bit Of grass on its dark surface
as though the virgin So. were tirel
Z waiting for the tardy sowing of TIL
Y farmer. on a MULLEN stalk q butter
n hy shook its trammeled wings free o
the web which q guardian spider hal
z spun over the rose that teiApted thi
gay wooer.
y Lavender" Mrs. Creighton called
y and, waving her bonnet at 1.-THE butter
ny. the girl Jumped to the ground. an
= walked reluctantly to the house, Wit
8. backward glancea at the gorgeous az
" sequies Of the sun.
~ rro ~ C~onsinus1x