Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1910-07-22

dancing; through open windows
could see pretty brown girls Waiting
with smart brown beaux. Music hoated
out agreeably, also many odors. /.
You ladies don't really mind him
being here?" Mrs. Browne whispered
at my elbow. "He seemed right
young and innocent to go to gaol.
He'd never feel the same about him.
self. after he came out"
Mind him-Mr. Linton? He seems
a nice quiet boy" felt magnanimous
in forgiving his open dislike.
Now, that's what | say" Mrs.
Browne went on. But lodger left
today, because Of me keeping him."
"A lodger left? But why, what did
| he do?"
Look at that town." Mrs. Browne
waved despising hand. There's a
few white people up on the hill, but
much they know or care about par
eel of sailors, just strange young
men, with mothers of their own at
home, and sweethearts."
Yes, | noticed he wore ring.
Mrs. Browne had much to tell.
Yes, and you will notice how bad he
feels when he looks at it, too And
a gayer boy than he was, three days
ago! But what do people expect?
Keep em afioat three months, turn
'em loose ashore in a black-and-tan
town like this, with money in their
pockets, and not thing for them to
do! Not home for the boys to go in,
| not white woman to throw them a
word. What do they expect?" she
broke off impatiently.
And what happened?" She
seemed to await my question.
What happened, miss? Why, the
only thing! There's no decent amuse-
ment here for one white lad, not at
the best of times, let alone hundred
and more. There's just two things
they can do, and getting DRINKS not
| the worst"
Beyond, in the avenue of palms, /
could dimly see Frank Liston pacing
to and fro, with bent head, detected
shoulders and the invincibly springy
step of youth
And he could have lodged arrest,
| If he'd been willing to quit like the
Others Mrs. Browne continued.
| They'd have never caught him. Easy
enough for sailor to swing out OF
any window in this town. But he saw
the girl was dying"
THE girl?" But this time / was to
learn without further question.
Yes, miss. Of course he never
should have been there. You and
know that. They were all, or most OF
them, in one of those coon joints.
don't know just how it began, but a
girls black fellow got in, fighting
drunk, of course, with machete
Slashed an artery, and she was bleed
ing badly. The other boys lit out. Nc
one wants to be mixed up in those
rows BY the time the police got in
there was no one but her and Frank
He waited to try and stop the flow
And that's how he's here now, under
surveillance. No friends to go bail
for him, till the trial. Say, you don't
mind, do your" she asked abruptly
But maybe we'd best not tell your
aunt"
With this l heartily agreed And
the other lady left ?" / marvelled.
Perhaps being mother is just
why l suggested, watching the lone.
ly young figure on it's disconsolate
| promenade.
| Presently the police officers again
| interviewed Frank Liston, and Mrs.
Browne further volunteered that they
required him to keep early hours. mot
that he's getting much sleep, these
nights. He's SO afraid his people will
catch wind of it, and the girl at home.
He comes from New Hampshire, a
country lad, and she's a schoolmarm. -
Certainly if a creaking couch be
sign of troubled slumbers, Frank
Liston spent a night the wakefulness
of which passed over the partition
between our rooms. He tossed and |
tossed, and all the while a sense of
guilt, of adding to his troubles, lay
upon me, ridiculously, Enthusiastically,
but with a SILVER of growing respon-
sibility.
At daybreak he was up, softly
dressing. | could swear that he wrote
a letter. Then came queer sound, a
click, another | could not place that
sound, it worried me.
Sudden light flooded my room, the
dawnless tropic sunrise. Slipping on
a dressing-gown l passed out through
open doors into the quiet garden.
Strange dollhouse plants bloomed like
weeds, strange fragrances waited in
over the harbor Far to the right,
long rollers of surf broke on a rocky
promontory, sending up fountains of
cleaning spray. Circling gulls lowered
above the anchored shipping. On the
sea wall solitary man seemed busy
with some planks, a heavy stone.
Frank Liston. He balanced a stout
board over the water, staying it's
earthward end with stone after stone;
then coming back, he picked up a
small object from the gras. 1t gilt
tered in the sun.