Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1913-11-29

he had been but ten years older than
thu son was now.
Phrases Of the letter ran through,
his mind:
Sometime. perhaps, you will know
why you are John Valiant Of New
York instead Of John Valiant OF Dam
DRY Court. L can not tell you
myself" There was some tragedy,
then. that had blighted the place, some
melancholy story" as the clipping
put 1t.
He bent over the deed spread out
upon the table, following with his An
ger the long line Of transfers: ITO
John Valyante,' he muttered:
what odd spelling! Robert valyant'
without the e. Here. In 1890, the
" begins to be a." There was come
thing strenuous and appealing in the
long line Of dates. valiant. Always a
Valiant. How they held on to It!
There's never break"
A curious pride. newborn and self
conscious. was dawning in him. He
was descended from ancestors who
had been no weaklings. A Valiant
had settled on those acres under a
royal governor, before the old frontier
fighting was over and the Indians had
suddenly retired to the westward. The
sons Of those who had braved sea and
savages had bowed their strong bodies
and their stronger hearts to raze the
forests and turn tho primeval jungles
into golden plantations. Except as
regarded his father. Valiant had never
known ancestral pride before. He had
been proud Of his strong and healthy
frame, Of his ability to ride like a
dragon, unconsciously, perhaps. a lit
tie proud Of his wealth. But pride In
the larger sense, reverence for the
past based upon a respect for ancient
lineage. he had never known until this
moment.
Where was his facetious concept OF
Virginia now? He remembered his
characterization Of 1t with a wincing
humorous Notifications slender
needle-prick OF shame. The empty
pretensions. subsisting on the vanish
ed glories of the past. had suddenly
acquired character and meaning. He
himself wes Virginian.
There below him stretched the great
canoned city its avenues roaring with
nightly gaiety, It's roadways bright
with the beams of shutting motors, Its
theaters and cafes brilliant with wom-
en- in throbbing hues and men in black
and white, and it's Great White Way"
blazing with incandescents. intermin-
able and alluring-an apotheOsis or
fevered movement and hectic color.
He knew suddenly that he was sick
of it all: it's iostle and glitter, its mad
race after bubbles, it's hideous under
surface contrasts OF wealth and squat
or, it's lukewarm friendships and false
standards which he had been so bit
terly unlearning. He knew that, for
all his self-pity, he was at heart full Of
q tired longing for wide uncrowded
nature. for green breezy interludes and
sky Of untainted sunlight or peace
full stars. .., e..
There stole into his mood an eery
suggestion Of intention. Why should
the date assigned for that deeds de.
livery have been the very day on
which he had elected poverty? Here
was generalization as pointed as the
index-fnger Of q guide-post "'Every
man carries his fate,'" he repeated,
"'on riband about his neck Chum.
40 you believe in fate?"
CHAPTER VII
For answer the bulldog, cooking an
alert eye on his master, discontinued
his occupations conscientious II un-
successful mastication OF the flattfsh
packet that had fallen from the folded
deed-and with much solicitous tail
wagging. brought the sodden thing in
his mouth and put 1t into the out
stretched hand.
His master unrolled the pulpy wad
and extricated the object 1t had en-
closed-an old-fashioned iron door-key.
After time Valiant thrust the key
into his pocket, and rising, went to
runk that lay against the wall. Search
ing in a portfolio, he took out small
old-fashioned photograph, much bat
tered and soiled. It had been cut from
a larger group and the name Of the
photographer had been erased from
the back He set it upright on the
desk, and bending forward. looked
long at the face it disclosed. 1t was
the only picture he had ever possessed
of his father.
He turned and looked into the glass
above the dresser. The features were
the same, eyes, brow, lips, and strong
waving hair. But for It's time-stains
the photograph might have been one
Of himself, taken yesterday.
For an hour he sat In the bright
light thinking, the pictured face
propped on the desk before him, the
dog snuggled against his knee.
On the Red Road.
The green. mid-May Virginian after
noon was arched with a sky as blue
as the tiles Of the Temple Of Heaven
and stepped in wish OF sunlight as
yellow as gold; smoke-hazy peaks
piling up, in the distance billowy
verdure like clumps Of trembling jade
between. shaded with masses Of blue.
black shadow, and Laying up and
down, by gashed ravine and rounded
knoll, road like red lacquer, fringed
with stone wall and sturdy shrub and
splashed here and there with the pur-
pie stain OF the Judas tree and the
snow of dogwood blooms. Nothing in
all the springy landscape but looked
warm and opalescent and inviting -
except tawny bull that from across
- oh ID q