The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1910-07-21
Extremely indirectly, I should

"a
Besides" I added Il wish you t
advise me-and your advice will b.
worth much more to me than M. /,
Comics or any others"
Thank you. Although that sound.
somewhat as If it were a continuation
OF the riddle. Pray continue"
1T is necessary that / should go bacl
q little" / explained. Thirty years
ago, my father made a pilgrimage tc
Mont Standardized to discharge a vow
AS he approached the roc across the
sands, he was suddenly conscious that
his horse was having difficulty in pro-
ceeding. In a more, the horse
had sunk to his belly, and my father
perceived that he had ~blundered into a
quicksand. He flung himself from the
saddle, and, abandoning the beast to
its fate-which, indeed, nothing could
have northumberland to make his
way back to solid ground. He sank to
his ankles. to his knees, to his waist
His struggles to escape served only to
entangle him more deeply until, at last
seeing them in vain, he set himself to
await the end courageously. He glanced
around over the sands to make sure
that there was no help in sight, then
he set himself with his face toward
the cross above the rock and commend
ed his soul to God.
But the moment he ceased to strug-
1 6iS, iC IobpSu tIS QulChSdHu VI It's WIZ
lence. He still sank, indeed, brit so
slowly that at the end of an hour, the
sand had scarcely reached his breast.
He reckoned that 1t would be three
hours, at least, before the sand covered
nose n mouth, but he knew that the
tide would end 1t before that. Never
theless, hope began to revive a little
and again he looked around for aid,
but he a evidently wandered some
distance from the direct road to the
mount, and the only persons passing
were so far away that they did not
perceive him nor hear his shouts. So
again he resigned himself, and the
thought even came to him to renew his
struggles In order to bring the end
more quickly. But he decided that this
would be cowardly, II not sinful, and
so waited quietly. He was relieved to
see that his horse, struggling to the
last, a sunk from sight so hat it's
sufferings were ended.
"He closed his eyes and even doZed
a little, for he had been exhausted by
his previous struggles, but he was
startled wide awake by a voice shout
ing. The sand had reached his arm
pits. His arms, extended in front Of
him, were covered. He turned his head
with difficulty and saw a man standing
at the edge of the quicksand. He was
tearing off his doublet in desperate
haste.
"Do not venture into IT, my father
cried, compromising his purpose. I
am past saving. Do not endanger
yourself. Take a message for me-that
is all I ask
1.-The other did not answer. but
spread out his cloak before him and
advanced across it. He sank
what, 1t is true, but his feet were not
entangled In the sand. At the edge Of
his cloak. he spread his doublet,
stepped upon 1t and drew his cloak
after him. But that of stand
ing still almost proved his ruin, for he
had sunk nearly to his knees before he
got his cloak spread out again. My
father watched him with bated breath
as he freed himself and crept forward
to the edge of 1t.
"'Your hand said the stranger, and
he stretched out his own.
MY father disentangled one Of his
arms and grasped the hand extended
firm and strong 1t was.
Now continued the other rap
idly. you must free yourself by one
supreme effort. If we fall the first
time 1t will be useless to try again.
So we must not fail. Are you readyY
Yes said my father and with a
mighty effort, heaved himself up out
Of the sand. Yet he must have failed.
must have sunk deeper than ever, but
for that strong arm which helped him,
drawing him up and forward to the
edge Of the cloak. which formed, for a
moment, a little isle Of safety.
But only for a moment. Already the
sand was pouring over It's edges and It
was being rapidly engulfed.
1--WE must get back without it, said
the unknown. Come
"Of he desperate struggle which
followed, my father never told me
much-indeed, I doubt If he remem-
bered Its details very clearly. They
aided each other, encouraged each
other. drew Zach other forward-each
determined that the other should be
saved-and, at the end, dropped ex-
hausted side by side on the firm sand
beyond.
MY fathers rescuer was a young
man Of Poitiers-the youngest son OF
a good family-and his name was Louis
Marie de Benseval."
I paused. I was. indeed, somewhat
overcome by my own story and more
especially by the memories which It
evoked. AS for Mdlle. de Chambray.
she sat with her face so in the shad-
ow that I could scarcely discern her
features. She made no comment, only
stirred slightly, and I saw her ewes
shining up at me.
Il fear l have been prolix," said.
7 have wearied you. I will try to has
ten"
please do not" she broke in. .'You
have not wearied me. I wish to hear
the whole story. But will you not sit
DOWN. n she made a little inviting
gesture.
NO." I said, resisting it. IT ave
not yet come to the diflcult part. If
I should sit there beside you, I fear
that my courage would fail me-"
"As you WILL" she murmured. and
leaned still farther into the shadow.
"The two became fast friends" I
continued. Indeed. friend is scnrce-
ly the word with which to describe
their a~ffection-it is not strong enough.
They were more han friends Their
attachment had a rare, abiding quality
whether they were apart or together.
1t was just the anne. They determined
to pe%rpetuate 1t by knitting their two
families into one. They agreed that
ould n of them have a son and the
other a daughter, these two should be
considered betrothed from the cradle.
And 1t would seem that nature, Provi-
dence. God approved Of this design, for
1t so fell put.
when I was 10 years old, my father
was seized with a fever from which ii
was Don evident he could not recover.
M. de Benseval fastened to him. bring
ing with him his daughter, a child Of
eight. We were betrothed beside my
fathers bed; 1t was agreed that on the
day that I was FL / should set out from
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