Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1911-12-13

| When / asked my blessed Iowaka to be
my wife, she answered by running away
! from me. haunting me until l thought my
/ heart had shriveled into a bit of salt
blubber; but she came back to me before
| had completely died. with her braids
| done up on the top of her head
He stopped suddenly, startled into 81
| lence by the strange look that had come
Jan stood as If the power Of movement
| had gone from him. He was staring over
| the Frenchman's head, a CHASTITY palloi
growing in his cheeks.
'No-it-means-nothin he said, final.
| ly. speaking as il the words We're forced
from him one by one.
He dropped into a chair beside the
table like one whose senses had beer
dulled by an unexpected blow. With q
great signing breath that was almost a
sob, he bowed his head upon his arms.
Jan ThOreau," whispered Jean, softly,
have you forgotten that il was I who
killed the missioner for you. and that
through all these years Jean de Gravois
on the mountain top" There was in his
voice. as gentle as woman's, the vibrant
note of a comradeship) which is next to
love-the comradeship of man for man
in a world where friendship is neither
Jan Thoreau? If there is anything Jean
de Gravois can do"
He sat down opposite Jan. his thin
eager face propped in his hands. and
watched silently until the other lifted his
head. Their eyes met. steady, unflinch-
ing. and in that look there were the oath
and the seal of all that the honor of the
big SHOWS held for those two.
Still without words. Jan reached within
his breast and drew forth the little roll
which he had taken from his violin. One
by one he handed the pages over to Jean
de Gravois.
Mon Dieu.' said Jean. when he had
oil IA.
words White faced the two men stared.
JAMS throat twitching. Gravois' brown
fingers crushing the rolls he held
THAT was why I tried to kill the mis-
sioner." said Jan at last He pointed to
the more coarsely written pages under
Jeans hand. And that-that-is why 1t
could not signify that Melissa has done
up her hair He rose to his feet. strain
ing to keep his voice even. and gathered
up the papers so that they shot back into
the little cylinder-shaped roll again
Now. do you understand"
Il understand" replied Jean. in low
voice, but his eyes glittered like dancing
dragon flies as he raised his elbows slowly
above his head. II understand. Jan Tho
reau, and praise the Blessed Virgin that
it was Jean de Gravois who killed the
missioner out upon the ice OF Lac BAN.
But the other persisted Jan, the
other. which says that I
"Stopr' cried Jean, sharply. He came
around the table and seized JAMS hands
in the iron grip Of his 1.-THE, brown fingers.
That is something for you to forget. 1t
means nothing-nothing at all, Jan Tho
reau! Does any one know but you and
me?"
mo one. intended that some day Me-
lisse and her father should know. but /
waited too long. I waited until I was
afraid until the horror OF telling her
frightened me. I made myself forget,
burying it deeper each year. until today
on the mountain
".And today. In this cabin. You will for
get again, and you will bury II so deep
that 1t will never come back. am proud
of you, Jan Thoreau. / love you. and Ii
is the first time that Jean de Gravois has
ever said this to man. All, 1 hear
them coming"
with an absurd bow In the direction Of
the laughing voices which they now
pulled Jan to the door. Half way across
the open were Melissa and Iowaka, carry
ing a large Indian basket between them
and making merry over the task. When
they saw Gravois and Jan they set down
their burden and waved an invitation for
the two men to come to their assistance.
you should be the second happiest man
JEAN THE first is Jean de Gravois!"
He set off like bolt from a spring gun
In the direction Of the two who were
waiting for them. He had hoisted the
basket upon his shoulder by the time Jan
arrived.
Are you growing old. too: JAM" ban
tered Melissa. as she dropped a few steps
behind Jean and his wife. You come SO
slowIy!'
II think I'm twenty-nine.'
You think" Her dancing eyes shot up
TO- his, bubbling over with the mischief