Evening star., 1912-11-17

frOfn Jne lake, Jne COld ram poured III sheets,
great green pillows dashed on the shore; the
water was a turmoil of seething foam. No
boat could live in such a tempest, least of all
frail birchbark canoe.
Bessie, much as she wanted to have her
lover with her again, prayed that he would
be kept from venturing forth
Joe, who was always an arrant tease,
assured her that she need not worry about
his coming. "The chances are, he explained,
that the Indians, finding that he was going
to desert them, would tie him up and not let
him out of their sight" He was nearer right
than he thought.
n\ the fourth day it cleared. Autumn
~ had come in good earnest. The forests
were tapestried in their magnlficence,-every
maple tree was living flame, and the great
oaks wore ruddy, golden crowns. The lake
was still rough; but Bessie restlessly spent
every spare moment she could find gazing
out, straining her eyes to detect the first
sight of the faithful canoe. She began to
believe that her brother had predicted truly
about the Indians keeping him.
She was beginning to lose hope, when at
last toward sunset of the fifth day she saw
tiny speck on the horizon. The wind was
blowing strongly from the north, and there
was a heavy sea; but the canoe, managed in
a mastery manner by the single occupant,
rose over every wave and seemed like
swan gliding above them. Anyone but a
strong man trained by the Indians would
have instantly been swamped by the curling
whitecaps. There was a pounding surf on
the shore: the landing would be difficult.
Bessie ran to sandy beach few hundred
yards down the lake shore, and as the canoe
came nearer tried to shout to its occupant.
She waved her handkerchief to attract his
attention.
But he had famiarized himself with the
whole shore and knew the spot where he
might land. The canoe poised on a huge
wave, and then, kept bow on, flew forward
like a catapult No Kanaka on Hawaiian
surfboard ever made more beautiful, trl-
umphant dash to shore. The boiling billow
carried him far up on the sands. Before it
had chance to take him back on its ref1uent
cascade Music in Voice leaped out, scarcely
wetting his moccasins and hauled the canoe
oat of reach of the waters.
Bessie was ready to wade in and give him
her hand; but he did not need her aid. She
flew into his arms. II was beginning to fear
| should never see you again!' she murmured.
Big storm-no could come Then he
told her how the tribe was unwilling to let
him go, putting every sort of obstacle in his
way. But he had managed to elude them,
and now he would never go back.
THE news of Miss Cromwel's Indian who
was not an Indian travelled far and
wide. 1t came to little town about twenty
miles down the lake, and caused the greatest
excitement; for there, twenty-five years be-
fore, had been lost or stolen bright, beauti
ful boy, the only child of his parents. The
little fellow had been playing in the front
ward, singing merrily. Suddenly his voice
ceased; but his mother thought nothing of
that The father was away attending to his
business. After time the mother went to
the front door. Nothing was to be seen of
the curly haired youngster. He had disap-
peared as if the earth had swallowed him.
Search was made everywhere for him. Re-
wards were offered. The father for year
devoted himself to securing the country in
hope of obtaining some trace OF him. he
shore of the lake was patroled for miles to
find his little body in case he had run down
to the waters edge and fallen in. But all in
vain. Since then the village had grown into
town, and many of the first settlers had
grown rich. Richest of all was the father of
the vanished boy.
When he heard that Indians had come
over from Canada and that one of them was
white man, the hope that had been sleep
ing so many years awoke. He took his
wife. whose hair had been white ever since