The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1910-09-16

poihIeu queStloHS. however, ne was
sure, though she herself, could tell
him nothing of her early life, that
the frail girl had been stolen from
her home in hope of rich reward.
Yet, she was happy here, rejoicing
in the flowers and the sunlight.
The boy, lying beside big, swarthy
Joe, the chieftain's Oldest son, night
after night, stared at the stars
through a rift within the tent, dream
ing of this child.
After many months of joyous COM
radeship, of care-free life in sun and
wind, the great terror came. They
were riding along through the valley,
up hill and down dale, thinking no
harm, imagining no evil when the
deep fear burst full force upon them.
The Rose and Carl were lettering be-
hind the vans, singing, when sudden
ly the girl raised her flower-crowned
head, and the boys gaze followed
hers.
A gentleman on horseback, having
ridden for some time unobserved, was
close upon them now. 1t was up into
his eyes that the girl was staring
with that startled apprehension. The
boy saw, in flash, the clue to her
strange loneliness; the kinship was
past question. 1t was self evident the
man had likewise seen it. He sat,
rigid, thunderstruck, his hands
clutching the pommel of his saddle,
his keen eyes wild.
Help" he gasped, help" and Carl
caught him as he fell.
Little Rose brought water from
neighboring spring and restored him.
He said nothing, offered no explana-
titn, did this distinguished gentle
man, but when he handed Carl tiny
gold case, the boy, with the opening
of the tiny clasp, knew all. The eyes
of little Rose gazed out from tangle
Of golden curls, even If the low cut
velvet gown and the twisted strings
Of pearls seemed far remote from
what he knew of her.
1T was her mother" said the gen.
tleman. TT seems she's come again."
Her mother! The boys heart
leaped with sudden buoyant gladness
and then went black within. Her
mother! 1t was like the wondrous
fairy tales, the romance of the folk
lore, this uniting of the lost and
wronged! But, o, it meant the sever
ing of the friendship! Her mother!
/ Yes, and her father, too!
| But even now, the band would
reach them in minute, threatening,
aggressive and at war. In moment
| they would claim their own and van
ish, lost in the circling mazes of the
hills. He had but to CALL and Little
Rose and old freedom and old dreams
were his again.
But Joe, the big Indian, stealing
on their path, had witnessed all the
scene, and guessed at once its full
and striking purport
He spoke with all the conviction of
king. you 60 at once" he said.
You go unframed. But If you follow
or make cry Of this, the worst will
come. You know us and our ways!"
O, the bitter nights the boy lay
tossing on his bed, arguing with him
self, endeavoring to forget To for
get that it was his inability, his in
difference, his calous selfishness
that had cheated this brave father Of
his right. But, thanks to the stern
Teuton Of his character the best in
him prevailed, and, traitor to the
camp, he restored the girl to her own
1t was while travelling through the
Reisenthal that above an entrance to
vast estate he associated the en-
craven coat-of-arms with perfect sure.
ty with the delicate tracery of the
miniature. Baron Won Stroben's
lands" one said, and now the way
was clear.
The professors eyes, still soft with
old day dreams, came back from the
still deepening of the dusk, and ne
fingered thoughtfully the manuscript
Yes; he had proved loyal to his trust,
had given up the Little Rose and
bowed his head to right. The conflict
had been fierce and long, but he had
won!
There was a rustling of the cur
tains at the door, but still the man
dreamed on. 1t was only when two
hands closed over his eyes that sud-
denly he raised his hands to silver
curls above him and smiled In new
content. Dear Little Rose-my wife.
I've been thinking of you"