The Havre herald. [volume] (Havre, Mont.) 1904-1908, 1908-01-10

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-
| 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
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, la?" said the old fellow,
in plying accent. Lost! Did we
sleep in despair, dear little heart? In
tears? In terror? And God sendeth a
hand, ere yet it Ia 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
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 run, but he was old,
and the lad was unusually solid and well
grown for his years, so that the burden
soon told on him, and brought him to a
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
met him in the passage with cry.
"Oh, the little Anglais! You have
found him, monsieur? Jeanne, run to the
woods and tell them that the child is
found"
You know him?" asked Dobroski.
"Who is be? Where does he live?''
'He Is the child of the English at
the hotel des Postes," answered the WON
an, standing on tiptoe to kiss the boy
"1e has been lost this five hours Do
broski turned into the street, and the
foH oil
He Is the only child of his parents, and
their cherished. Imagine, then, the de
, spar of the mother, the inguetude of his
father. They are rich. See how the chile
, is dressed. There is nothing you might
not ask for"
The old man smiled at this, but sale
nothing. He surrendered his charge a,
the hotel, where the boy was received
with such noisy demonstrations of pleas
ure that he awoke. Being awake, anC
recognizing his surroundings, he adapted
himself to them with an immediate phil
osophy, and demanded something TO eat
A second messenger was dispatched tt
, the wood to bring back the party who hat
gone in search of him.
His mother kissed him frantically ant
cried over him. but his father set GU
for the Cheval Blanc to thank his res
cuer. He found Dobroski seated in lit
tie room with a sanded floor, and began
to stammer his gratitude in broken ant
mutilated French.
at was piece of good fortune to Gnt
him." said Dobroski, speaking English
to the others great relief. II am de
lighted that the pleasure was NINE"
don't 111w how RI thanh
:, said the Englishman. little awkward
= ly, Juggling a purse from his trouser
= pocket. For moment Dobroski fancie
~ the stranger meant to offer him none,
:. but he merely produced a card, THAT
= my name," said the Englshman, blur
3 deringly. "Austin Farley. Upon N
:, word, I really don't know how to than
YOU"
- My good, good sir" returned Dobrt
- ski, what would you have had? Wha
- was I to do? He was sure to be founs
~ and 1t was my good fortune to have foun
=, him."
- "You must let his mother come an
=, thank you, sir" said the Englishma1
Upon my word I really don't know whs
to say to tell you how grateful and obi
;s ed I am. His mother has been in tt
4 a greatest anxiety. You must let her con
~ ~. and thank YOU
~ well. well, Mr.. Farley" the elder ma
~ answered, himself little shy at the OF
~ er's concealed emotion. IF you will thI
- so mere an accident worth thanks to an
h body But pray let us say no more
n CHAPTER II.
There was great crowd of people