Lincoln County leader. [volume] (Toledo, Lincoln County, Or.) 1893-1987, 1911-02-03

Then she walked briskly over the
bridge, turned into the road that led
past the mill and hailed the miller's
little lad who was fishing in the tum.
bling stream.
DO you want 10 s. on a picnic
with me. Lon?" she called.
Yes. ma am" he called delighted
ly and after obtaining permission from
his mother he joined his teacher and
together they walked, through the
woods where the fallen leaves crisped
under foot and where the odor Of
birch and sassafras smelled strong
and sweet
Lon, do you know the way to the
hermit's cave?" she asked quietly.
Lon stared at her with pa1ing
cheeks. You're not going there. Miss
Grace?" he faltered.
yes, l am. my dear, If you don't
go with me and show the way must
go alone. for an old man. is hurt there
and perhaps dying. Before we enjoy
our own picnic we must see him. You
can turn back now If you want to-"
She looked at him, confident of his an
swer.
Lon Strengthened. his shoulders and
his ears redeemed With pride and, en-
barrassment as he led the way
through a tangled thicket and by
devious other ways until they stood in
a narrow path, well defined and COW
cred with a clear white sand.
THAT leads to the cave" whispered
Lon cautiously me and some fell
lows found 1t one day-it comes from
over the mountain-I guess that's the
way ne goes TO ana lro. We was
after birds eggs last summer-there's
millions of birds around here-and
che old man came and chased us off,"
who is there?" called a feeble
voice from within the cave.
"Friends!" replied Grace cheerily.
Are you In trouble?"
"Yes-fell and sprained my ankle
yesterday and I've been suffering tor
lures since then. I've tried to get help
from outside but everyone acts SO con-
idiotic every time stone
rattles down the hillside that I'd
about given it up. Wait moment
please and I'll come out"
Hes got nice voice." whispered
Lon to his teacher as they waited for
the hermit's appearance.
Every likely he's the incest old
gentleman you ever met" she smiled
back at him. Here he comes now"
With that expression of tenderest
pity lighting her face Grace Winton
saw a man drag himself painfully
from the opening of the cave. Her
eyes widened as she realized that this
was no old man-young, handsome
and athletic looking, the picture OF
health, save for certain drawn look
in his face that intense suffering
might have placed there. he half
crept, half hobbled to sitting posi-
ton in the mouth Of the cave and
then he tainted dead away.
When Grace and Lon had recovered
from their astonishment and bent
themselves to resuscitate the stranger.
the boy spoke:
This isn't the hermit, Miss Grace"
Never mind" she said absently, as
she propped his head against her
Lhoulder and forced some Of the
blackberry wine between his lips.
Hes In need of help anyway. Un-
bandage his ankle, Lon-carefully my
dear-there, 1t is black and blue and
dreadfully swelled. Can you fetch
water from the stream? Doesn't 1t
run above here"
Lon dashed away with pail and
when he returned with the Icy water
he found the young man recovered
and rather ashamed of his momentary
weakness. Sitting with his injured
foot in the cold water he told the two
that his uncle, the hermit, was none
other than Waynewood Stone, we'll
known ornithologist who had used the
cave as a summer point of observation
to study his beloved birds. Now that
the old man was crippled with rheu-
matism and confined to his beautiful
city home, this nephew, Frank Stone,
had come to take his uncle's place and
gather the necessary data for the old
mans forthcoming book of bird-lore,
Now we must get doctor up to
you at once, said Grace, preparing to
leave after Mr. Stone had wrung the
story of their coming from her un-
willing lips. "And you will want
man to keep house for you If you In
sist on remaining up here-Mrs. Stew
ems son might come and take care of
you"
81 believe I'll get the doctor to take
me down to the hotel in Pendleton,"
said Stone thoughtfully.
There amt no birds down there"
ventured Lon diffidently. "Leastways
not new ones"
There is one new to me-a winter
rod htr1 - ratrrpad