The Kendrick gazette. [volume] (Kendrick, Idaho) 1892-1968, 1907-12-06
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--N THE GIRL WITH ~
j IT, "A MILLION "
g N>S~--By d. c. Murray
BY d. G. Murray

fellow sat on the camp stool behind them
and held animated talk with Nature.
The gray-bearded man wandered
througlf3the 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 il he had q 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 a 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 lcok about him. Within a
yard or two sat the lost child on the
camp stool, with his back against bread
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 LIS tcars.
"Eh! La, la, la?" said the old fellow,
in a plying accent. Lost! Did we
sleep in despair. dear little hearth 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 and the
SO, a faint and distant cry reached his
ears, and he stopped to listen. 1t was re-
peated once or twice, family and mere
family, and then died away. He started
anew almost at a run, but he was ed,
and the lad was unusually solid and well
grown for his years, 20 that the burden
soon told On him, and brought him to q
walk again. 1t was q full mile, frsm 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
met him in the passage with q cry.
"Oh, the little Anglais! You have
found him, monsieur? Jeanne, run to the
woods and tell them that the child Ii
found"
You know himT' asked Dobrsski
"Who is he? Where does he liver
HE is the child Of the English at
the hotel des Postes," answered the wsu-
an. standing on tiptoe to kiss the boy.
HE has been lost this five hours" Do
al s,>kn h.
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 him.
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. II 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 a card, "That's
my name," said the Englishman, blum.
deringly. "Austin Farley. Upon nay
word. l really don't know how to thanh
4 you."
my good, good sir" returned Dobrs
ski, what would you have had? What
was to do? He was sure to be found
I and it was my good fortune to have fount
him."
"You must let his mother come ant
thank you, SIR" said the Englishman
upon my word I really don't know wha
to say to tell you how grateful and oblig
ed I am. His mother has been in tn
greatest anxiety. You must let her com
and thank you"
"Well, well, Mr.. Farley" the elder maj
answered, himself a little shy at the 9th
er's concealed emotion. IF you will thinl
so mere an accident worth thanks to any
body But pray let us say no more.
CHAPTER II.