The San Juan islander. [volume] (Friday Harbor, Wash.) 1898-1914, 1907-07-13
BY D. G. Murray

fellow sat on the camp stool behind them
and held animated talk with Nature.
The gray-bearded man wandered
through the wood with his chin sunk upon
his breast and his eyes fixed upon the
ground. He was tall and gaunt and swar-
thy, and looked as if he had considera-
BILE strain of the Jew in him. His nose
was like an eagles beak and ascetically
fine. His temples were followed like
those of death's-head, and his eyes,
which were large and brown and MOURN
full to the verge of pathos, were the eyes
of born dreamer and fanatic by ma
ture.
1t was already dusk when the old Nj
hilist turned his footsteps into the wood,
and having just remembered that he had
not broken his fast for seven or eight
hours, he had somewhat quickened his
usual thoughtful pace, when the sound
of sob reached his ear and he stopped
suddenly to look about him. Within a
yard or two sat the lost child on the
camp stool, with his back against broad
tree trunk. The old man knelt on the
grass and looked at the sleeping boy. His
straw hat had fallen off and lay beside
him, his golden hair was tumbled and
| disordered, his long dark lashes were still
wet, and his rosy cheeks were blurred and
soiled with the traces of his tears.
"Eh! La, la, Ia? ?" said the old fellow,
in a plying accent. Lost! Did we
sleep in despair, dear little heart? in
tears? in terror? And God sendeth
g l. Schk III
child, rescue, and to the old man teach
ing"
Then he took the child softly in his
arms, and gathering up the hat and the
camp stool, entered the wood. As he did
$50, faint and distant cry reached his
ears, and he stopped to listen. 1t was re-
peated once or twice, family and more
family, and then died away. He started
anew almost at a run, but he was old,
and the lad was unusually solid and we'll
grown for his years, SO that the burden
soon told on him, and brought him to
walk again. 1t was a full mile, from the
spot to which the child had wandered to
the Cheval Blanc, and when the little
hostel was reached the bearers back and
arms were aching rarely. The landlady
"Oh, the little Anglais You have
found him, monsieur? Jeanne, run to the
woods and tell them that the child is
found"
you know himT asked Dobroski.
"Who is he? Where does he live?"
"He is the child of the English at
the hotel des Postes," answered the wom-
an, standing on tiptoe to kiss the boy.
'He has been lost this five hours" Do
broski turned into the street, and the
woman followed him talking all the way.
He is the only child of his parents, and
their cherished. Imagine, then, the de-
spair of the mother, the inquetude of his
father! They are rich. See how the child
is dressed. There is nothing you might
not ask for"
The old man smiled at this, but said
nothing. He surrendered his charge at
the hotel, where the boy was received
with such noisy demonstrations of pleas
ure that he awoke. Being awake, and
recognizing his surroundings, he adapted
himself to them with an immediate phil
osophy, and demanded something to eat.
A second messenger was dispatched to
the wood to bring back the party who had
gone IN search OF n1m.
His mother kissed him frantically and
cried over him, but his father set out
for the Cheval Blanc to thank his res
cuer. He found Dobroski seated in a lit
tie room with a sanded floor, and began
to stammer his gratitude in broken and
mutilated French.
1T was a piece Of good fortune to find
him." said Dobroski, speaking English,
to the others great relief. Il am de-
lighted that the pleasure was mine.'
II don't know how to thank you,"
said the Englishman, little awkward
ly, Juggling a purse from his trousers
pocket. For moment Dobroski fancied
the stranger meant to offer him money,
but he merely produced card, That's
my name," said the Englishman, blum
deringly. "Austin Farley. Upon my
word, really don't know how to thank
you"
my good, good SIR" returned Dobro-
ski, what would you have had? What
was 1 to do? He was sure to be found,
and it was my good fortune to have found
him"
"You must let his mother come and
thank you, sir" said the Englishman.
Upon my word really don't know what
to say to tell you how grateful and oblig-
ed I am. His mother has been in the
greatest anxiety. You must let her come
and thank you"
well, well, Mr.. Farley" the elder man
answered, himself little shy at the 9TH
er's concealed emotion. IF you will think
80 mere an accident worth thanks to any
BODY But pray let Us say no more"
CHAPTER II.
There was q great crowd Of people at
| the railway station at Namur, and the
Luxembourg train had no sooner steamed
into the station than it was besieged by
the mob, and all the carriages were taken
by storm. One tourist, who had furnish
ed himself with first class ticket, and
had shouldered himself through the crowd
to the buffet, was exceedingly wroth on
his return to find that the carriage he
had occupied was filed by third-class
excursionists. He spoke French with
fiuency, and an inaccuracy in combination