Camas Prairie chronicle. [volume] (Cottonwood, Idaho) 1901-1917, 1907-12-06
CHAPTER I.

AOANyg odI Oh a camp bbOOA bCAStS - $1,000
field easel, and libeled the landscape at
his ease, pausing at his work now and
then and drawing back his head to survey
It with an air Of charmed appreciation.
Near him, ON the gnarled trunk OF tree
and in che shadow of moss-grown rock,
sat a lady some ten or dozen years
younger, leisurely torturing thread INTO
lace with a hooked needle.
A little way down the dell boy was
clembering among the rocks, shrieking
every now and then with ecstatic news OF
a beetle or a butterfly. He was a sturdy,
blue-eyed, golden-haired little fellow of
i've, the picture of health, and he was
risking his limbs and chattering to all ami
mate and inanimate nature-a delightful
boy. and all alive from his golden head
to his restless feet and tips Of his brown
little fingers. The mother snatched him
to her arms and covered him with kisses.
Suddenly she looked up, flushed, half pite-
Gus, with flash of tears in her eyes.
"Austin, / feel afraid. Have L right
to be 50 happy9 Has any one right to
be 80 happy? Will it last?"
'Who knows2" he answered. Human
affairs run in averages, but then the av-
erages are not individual. We have had
almost trouble enough in our time to have
paid for little joy. Let US take it crate
fully"
Sometimes" she said, "a shadow seems
to fall upon it all-the shadow of a fear"
1.-THE shadow of the past-experience.
The burned child breads the fire. We are
burned children, both of us. Five years
Illness and poverty out of seven years of
s,d fe Ia ell And
after all, orr present happiness isn't phe-
nomenal, my dear, though it looks SO. We
have health and we value it because we
have each missed it in turn. We have a
little money, and we think it great deal
because we have been so deadly poor.
And then, he laughed and half blushed,
1--WE have little fame, and that is all
the pleasanter because we were so long
neglected Sweet is pleasure after pain"
Il am dangerously happy" she answer
ed.
"Come, let us pnpack the luncheon bas-
ket Cold chicken. Salad. Bread.
Cheese. Milk. There we are. Fall to.
Sit down by yovr mother, Cupid Take
a pull at the rilk, old man, and then
you'll have an a petite. What a sudden
shadow !"
A cloud had hJated between themselves
and the sun, and strange quiet had fall
en- with the shade On the woods.
Austin" the fe whispered, there is
that dreadful man again. 1t seems as If
he had brought the darkness with him."
A brown sloping path, covered still
with the fir needles shed In the foregoing
autumn. broke the wall Of green which
bounded the dell, and down this fOotway,
between the silver steps Of the birches and
the reddish stems Of the frs, walked q
gray-bearded man, with his head dropped
forward and his hands clasped behind him
He looked neither to left nor right, but
went by as If unconscious Of their pres
ence, and in a little while was lost be
hind the thicker growth Of trees. As he
went out of sight the sun broke through
the cloud, the LEAKAGE was inundated witt
life again and the birds renewed theil
song.
Look" she whispered; "the shadow
follows him."
what an odd mood this is to-day ?
said her husband, smiling at her. sane
why is ~. ~Soor old gentleman so dread
Aful 2',y4eek fo
Bat IA, do you know? You can
have hes 1e is known to have hatch
ed plots q ,15t the Gar"
"Well. hA Il is known also that h
has been WIZ ess and childless this TWEEN
ty years. Ms wife and his two SON
died in Siberia. They went there withou
trial, and people who know him say tina
the loss Of them in that horrible wa,
turned his brain. Suppose anybody stol
you and little Austin2 Suppose he drov
you on foot through hundreds of miles o
Ice and snow2 Suppose that he made yO
herd with the human off-scourings of tn
world. and that you died after three o
four long-drawp, hideous years? 1t nigh
be wicked, but surely it would not b
quite without provocation if blew tina
man sky-high. don't say that regicid
Is a thing to be commended. don't de
fend the poor old gentleman's politics
opinions. But do say that human ne
ture is human nature"
Luncheon over, he returned to hi
painting. to End the lights all change,
He worked away, however, with grea
contentment for an hour or two, while til
wife and the boy wandered beyond Ii
limits N ths5dell., When they came bac
they Hound that he had packed up h
trFps and was lying at length on Il
moss, with his face turned to the sky.
~ do this better than l paint" he sal
cooking an idle eye at his wife from b
meath the soft white felt which rested q
his nose. "Shall we get back now?'
II want to carry something, papa
said the boy, possessing himself Of Il
camp stool. They sauntered on togeth,
TRANQUILITY through the twinkling ligh
which dazzled from between the leave
and their steps were noiseless on Il
dense CARPET of hr needles. The boy la
down his burden to chase a sulphur-cc
Ored butterfly. They had gone a hundrt
yards before they missed him, and wh'
they turned to look for him he was SEE
at the far end Of a wooded vista, seat,
on the camp stool.
Look at the little figure, Lucy" sa
the father. Isn't there something lone
and almost pathetic in IT'D He looks
If he were waiting for somebody wi
would never come--a figure Of desert
childish patience" He hailed the chi
and turned away again. "He knows Z
roadY' be asked ",There is no danger
his losing himself7"
He knows the way" she answers