Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1913-10-15
BIG Shows
Author Of 1.-THE
Danger 1Trail''

living her sweet life in that little cabin
at the end Of the clearing.
"You hear the music in the skies
now, my MeIisseY" whispered the man,
kneeling beside her again. 'It is very
pretty tonight!'
"It was not that" repeated the wo-
| man.
but Cummins saw nothing of the eff
fort. for the hand lay all but motion
less. He saw nothing of the fading
softness that glowed in the big, loving
eyes, for his own eyes were blinded
by a hot film. And the woman saw
nothing of the hot film, so torture
was saved them both. But suddenly
the woman quivered, and Cummins
heard a thrilling sound.
'It is the music" she painted. John,
| John, it is-the music-of-my-peo-
ple!'
The man Strengthened himself, his
face turned to the open door. He heard
it now. Was it the blessed angels COM
! ing for his Melissa? He rose, a sob.
| bing note in his throat, and went, his
arms stretched out, to meet them. He
had never heard a sound like that
never in all his life in this endless will
derneSs
"My Melissa. my Melisser' he Sob
! bed
] A figure came from the shadows. and
with the figure came the music, sweet
and soft and low. John Cummins
stopped and turned his face straight
mp to the sky. His heart died within
him.
The music ceased. and when he look.
! ed again the figure was close to him.
staggering as it walked. and a face
white and thin and starved came with
: it. 1t was boys face.
For the museek of the violon-some.
ting TO eat!' he heard, and the thin
/ figure swayed and fell almost into his
arms. The voice came weak again.
''Thees is Jan-Jan Thoreau-and his
| violon."
! The woman's bloodless face and her
great staring. dark eyes greeted them
as they entered the cabin. AS the man
j knelt beside her again and lifted her
head against his breast she whispered
! once more:
1T is the-music-of my people-the
Violin"
John Cummins turned his head.
PLAY" he breathed
"Ah, the white angel is seek-ver
seek" murmured Jan. and be drew his
bow gently across the strings of his
violin.
From the instrument there came
something so soft and sweet that Johr
Cummins closed his eyes as he hello
the woman against his breast and lis
tened. Not until he opened them agair
and felt a strange chill against his
cheek did he know that his beloved'S
soul had gone from him on the gentle
music of Jan Thoreau's violin.
For many minutes after the last gen
| tie breath had passed from the won
ans lips Jan Thoreau played softly
! upon his violin. 1t was the great
heartbroken sob of John Cummins that
stopped him. In the dim light Of the
cabin their eyes met. 1t was then thai
Jan ThOreau knew what had happen
ed He forgot his starvation. He
crushed his violin closer and whispered
to himself:
1.-THE white angel ees-gonev'
CumminS rose from the bedside slow
~, like man who had suddenly grown
old. His moccasined feet dragged as
he went to the door. They stumbled
when he went out into the pale stal
glow of the night.
Jan followed. swaying weakly, fol
the last of his strength had gone in the
| playing of the violin. Midway in the
cabin he paused, and his eyes glowed
with wild, strange grief as he gazeG
down upon the still face of Cummins
wife, beautiful in death as it had beer
in life and with the sweet softness Of
life still lingering there. Some time
ages and ages ago, he had known such
face and had felt the great clutching
love of it.
Cummins had partly closed the door
after him, but watchers had seen the
opening of it. A door opened here and
another there, and paths of yellow
light flashed over the hard troddeI
snow as shadowy life came forth tC
| greet what message be brought from
the little cabin. When the word came
to them at last and passed from lip tc
lip and from one grim, tense face tc
another the doors closed again and the
lights went out one by one, until there
remained only the yellow eye Of the
factors Office and the faint glow from
! the little cabin in which John Cum
Minis knelt with his sobbing face
crushed close to that Of his dead.
There was no one who noticed Jan
Thoreau when he came through the
door Of the factors Office. His coat OF
caribou skin was in tatters. His feet
thrust themselves from the toes Of his
moccasins. His face was so thin and
white that it shone with the pallor OF
death from its frame of straight dark
ovoc oil mod IiI-o bIooi- dia.