The Caldwell tribune. [volume] (Caldwell, Idaho Territory [Idaho]) 1883-1928, 1907-08-03
BY ID. c. 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 a considera-
bic 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 a 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
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, lap said the old fellow,
in a plying accent. Lost! Did we
sleep in despair, dear little heart? in
tears? in terror? And God sendeth a
hand, ere yet it is night time. To the
child, rescue, and to the old man teach
ing"
Then he took the child softly in his
arms, and gathering up the hat aud the
camp stool, entered the wood. AS he did
so, 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 vel
grown for his years, so that the burden
soon told on him, and brought him to 9
walk again. 1t was a full mile, from thu
spot to which the child had wandered tt
the Cheval Blanc, and when the littl,
!, hostel was reached the bearers back ant
arms were aching rarely. The landlad.
met him in the passage with cry.
"Oh, the little Anglais! You hav
found him, monsieur? Jeanne, run to tn
woods and tell them that the child i
found"
, "You know him?" asked Dobroski
"Who is he? Where does he live?"
"He is the child of the English a
the hotel des Postes," answered the won
an, standing on tiptoe to kiss the boy
HE has been lost this five hours" Dc
broski turned into the street, and tn
woman followed him talking all the way
. HE is the only child Of his parents, an
their cherished Imagine, then, the d.
+, spair of the mother, the inquetude of hi
: father! They are rich. See how the chill
! is dressed There is nothing you migf
not ask for"
:, The old man smiled at this but sal
nothing. He surrendered his charge {
= the hotel, where the boy was receive
with such noisy demonstrations of plea
:. ure that he awoke. Being awake. an
y recognizing his surroundings, he adapte
himself to them with an immediate phi
: osophy, and demanded something TO ca
: A second messenger was dispatched
!. the wood to bring back the party who ha
= gone in search of him.
u His mother kissed him frantically ar
cried over him, but his father set o,
for the Cheval Blanc to thank his re
:. cuer. He found Dobroski seated in Ii
!! tie room with a sanded floor, and begs
Id to stammer his gratitude in broken al
u mutilated French.
;. at was a piece of good fortune to fiji
!, him." said Dobroski, speaking Englis
II to the others great relief. II am
lighted that the pleasure was NINE"
NC II don't know how to thank you
:. said the Englishman, little awkwaI
:. ly, Juggling a purse from his trouse
u. pocket. For a moment Dobroski fanci
a. the stranger meant to offer him monc
~ but he merely produced card, 'Tha
'ie my name" said the Englishman, blu
We deringly. "Austin Farley. Upon l
oi word, | really don't know how to tina
Nv you."
ne MY good, good SIR" returned Dob
- ski, what would you have hadf WI
-. was | to do? He was sure to be foul
oe and 1t was my good fortune to have fou
"a, him."
Tue "You must let his mother come a
ne thank you, sir" said the Englishm
cai "Upon my word really don't know wi
=" to say to tell you how grateful and OBJ
ed | am. His mother has been In
niS greatest anxiety. You must let her co
~. and thank YOU"
cav ga. "well, we'll, Mr.. Farley" the elder n
.ne answered, himself little shy at the G
'ne er's concealed emotion. "If you will tn
,IA so mere an accident worth thanks to a
ne body But pray let us say no mol
-, CHAPTER II.