The Marion daily mirror. (Marion, Ohio) 1892-1912, 1909-02-08
Fiction
Pefe'S Bobeffe.
BY lzoLA L. FoRREsTgR.

] government nHu DullJ lue lighthouse on
Presque Isle Pete's fishing hut had
been there, and every night he had.
| hung out his lantern on the end Of a
pole so that the boats rounding the
| point mile or two below would see its
| flicker and steer clear of the long
sand bar that ran out like an ant eat
er's nose from the northern corner Of
Presque Isle.
Everybody along the strait knew the
quaint old figure, but no one knew of
! Babette until they saw her one morn
ing futterlng along behind Pete, her
red calico dress the one bright spot Of
color among the grays and browns of
Presque Isle. The day before Pete had
| been seen rowing over to the Mackinac
shore, but no one knew Of his return
except Mere M'rie, and she was so old
and deaf that all she could do was
| cook Pete's fish and sit out I'm the sun
| shine all day smoking I'm the kitchen
! doorway.
When Landry Dubois, from Algonac
! island asked the question direct Pete
! smiled and shook his head, his dark
! eyes. deep set I'm the small brown face,
watching Babette build houses with
! the red bark chips around the light
! house steps.
"She has no one but me-" he said,
with a dubious shrug of his thin,
| stopped shoulders. "Babette, who art
thou pette?"
Babette stopped playing long enough
TO fash a merry glance at him under
the shelter of her thick brown hair.
"Pete's Babette," she laughed.
Aud So all through the isles Of the
! strait, as far as st. Ignace and even
down to Mackinac, she was known as
| Petes Babette. Pete taught her all
manner Of wonderful things in fish
lore and ship craft and before long she
knew all the boats that passed by
Presque Isle, from the great iron kings
and grain boats bound for Buffalo to
the gay little yachts that huttered like
white butterflies here and there. But,
best Of all she loved the schooners,
the old monarchs of the lake, when
they came sailing up the strait on
still summers eve, like wondrous
phantom ships, with the glory Of the
sunset behind, and she called them
| Babette's birds.
| And the years passed by, ten OF
them, slow and sure and steady, one
by one, as the wild geese fly to the
! southland, and each one left Pete
! browner and more wrinkled and
smaller, while Babette grew up tail
and slender and strong as a young
| pine tree, with hair and eyes brown
as dry oak leaves. Then came the ter
rlble winter Of 1894, when boat after
| boat went out on the lakes and no
more was heard from them until
spring waves brought in the wreck
age. 1t was cold at the little, low
house back OF the lighthouse on
Presque Isle, colder than even Pete
could remember, and every week 1t
was harder for him to row down n
st. Michel for provisions,
One night he came home half frozen
and with dreadful cough. Babette
sent him to bed and said he should go
no more Whey must make what food
they had last until warmer weather.
But instead OF sunshine and fair seas
the clouds swept low and gray like
gulls before a storm, and the waves
came rolling In, with a deep. heavy
swell that sent a dull, threatening
roar as they broke, up to the light
house. And here and there In the
dark green waters could be seen some
thing else, clumsy, swaying mass
that glinted blue white.
"The ice has come" Babette thought
when she saw It from the lighthous
window one morning after she haC
trimmed the lamp, and there was a
queer ache I'm her heart as she looked
of down the strait and thought Of
how her birds would have to battle
with It, but she did not tell Pete.
II was three days later when Mere
M'rie showed her the empty meal bag.
She smiled There were stlll bacon
and rice and dried FISH They were
rich, At the end of the week there
was no bacon, and they had saved the
last OF the rice for Pete, who lay on
the old lounge near the stove cough
ing, coughing all the time.
The following day Pete was dellri-
Gus. Babette stood in the old kitchen
looking from the flushed wrinkled
face on the pillow to where Mere
M'rle knelt over by the stove praying.
The provisions were gone. There was
no medicine
Babette took the fur jacket from its
nail. Before she went out OF the kltch.
on she leaned over the old half breed
woman's bent form. "ro st. Michel"
she said slowly, pointing eastward anu
then at the empty meal sack and -four
bag thrown in a corner. Mere M'rie
understood and stopped her praying
long enough TO watch the strong, erect
young figure pass down to the shore,
the wind blowing the ends Of her scarf
backward over her shoulders like red
wings
Her hands worked quickly over the
lires OF the boat. and, taking advan-
tage Of a momentary lull, she pushed
away from the small, tumbled down
pier and struck out braYely for St MI
chel She had often been out with
| 4 A.