Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1913-11-20
CHAPTER uI,--(Continued.o

CHAPTER HL-(Continued.)
She was the best rifle shot in the
county; she could trap rabbits in the
enoW. and catch crawfish with a bit of
twisted willow; she could guide a dug
u log In the flooded sloughs with n
Trick or the wrist that the northern
srs knew nothing about; and she had
candallzed the town her second year
N school by challenging the best of
their callow sprinters and outrunning
them hopelessly or track and in the
nils. hat fixed her forever in the
no well befriend her; she was that
girl from the Pocket" OF old Michi-
cams girl" or "Frenchy," and had the
doubtful distinction of being the only
Catholic in Rome, Ia, except Old
MONTY. the undertaken. In the mid
lands the pope wa a person who might
upset republican, institutions any time
or other.
So she had grown up apart. Never
was she so happy as when fishing with
Michigan along the river-Aurelie with
her gtpsy liveliness; the old rebel
stumpinE along. batting her hook, pro-
testing at her excess Of spirits, To-
growed up" he crowed d%elightedly.
Same as e l stole ye gu of the
convent in N'Awlyns and brought ye
up to occupy the land!"
She had a marvellous aptitude for
studies she liked and IN %unconque1-
able aversion to all else. She walked
the miles to school from the quarry
shanties. proud, ridiculously proud,
coming into the recitation rooms.
speaking to none and reciting with a
composure and exactness that made
the provincial teachers gasp. Then
she went along hi leafy oad to the
woods homeward again, proud and
AlOna. her ra6 GOWN q Snl9S oh of color
against the staid midland hills.
Still. to track rabbits through the
SHOWS, to skate with the boys on lonely,
t~reacherous sloughs; when spring
came, to tape the sugar trees on the
bluffs for stringy syrup n gather
and pretty n has dreams and pas
sions. all this does not atone; When one
has a love of admiration and a feeling
that one. is lovable and should be
finding happiness in the good days of
youth, it is lard to walk the bleak way
home knowing that other girls are go
ing out to the Geek" parties and to
h dances at Odd Fellows hall. Those
a nights h studied algebra in the
stuffy little kitchen where Lindstrom's
dusty quarr shirt and shoes lay be-
fore the red-hot stove, n his snor-
angs, n the whine Of the baby, and
the mothers fretting in the next room,
came above the rasp of the frozen trees
on the caves. She laid down books tot
stare out on the icy hills, the last arc
on the road to town lighting the way
to all that warmth, all that brightness,
all that laughter from which she was
shut off. She was glad when summer
came and she could climb the mighty
balustrades of the bluff and look east
ward to where the great river ran Out
of the south she a come and surely
beyond the walls Of this laborer's hut
Its smell of sweaty clothes, and over
h encircling hills one could find life
n could find ones heart beating
faster. Yet she did not complain; her
proud gaiety was her shield.
After a while, as the sodden meal
went on, the Tennessee woman spoke
what they all knew had TO be broken
to the last conner. Yer pop Lind
school, Aurelie. He's been a God
fearin' man, and hard-workin', and nc
child O this housell go face the dis.
grace O. the town, he says. Knute anc
Peter m you'll not go, he says"
Aurelie laid down her fork ane
looked at John. If the hope of HEAVIER
had been dashed from her h would
WHY graduate next year,"
You'll go nc more" John gloweret
at her breathlessness. Damn all the
town. Their laws and schools, they're
lot for poor ok I say, damn he law
and I'm g man O. God!"
But L? l must get through! Ant
Knute and Peter, here"
She looked at them n then a
Michigan, growing more frightened
The old soldier shook hts head will
some hopeless warning. Then, watch
ing Lindstrom a moment, she spran.
up quivering. I'll go-Ill go!" sh'
cried.
you'll not" he muttered doggedly
You'll die first"
She stared at him again, and thel
turned flying to her tiny room. The.
heard the carsh Of her body or he
her own hands. The others went OF
d~ocilely with their eating.
Knute, out in the dark, feeding tn
cats later, felt Aurelie seize him fierce
ly. She dragged him to the rail fenc
and shook him again.
"Knute. amt you going any more?
That's what paw said,." The DO.
b%lubbered, and her hot arm went abou
him, her sleeve brushed his tears
Il gotta, stay home and help clear lant
All winter, paw says. And
was a-goin' to get elected to the Liter
ary society and now paw"-his vote
broke-'I gotta stay home and GU
brush
mol" she cried out. "No-no!"
Yes. Paw says the jedge, he don
1t. He says the law made us all bat
'Tain't for poor folks. It's for ricl
Paw say damn everybody"
Don't o mind" The girl bea
the rail with her fists. Wen ru
away, Knute! I'm going to do some
thing, and you car run off and mayb
work on the railroad-a train agent G
something! Or go be a soldier lik
we used to play! Or we'll run off an
build a boat and drift down river"
Whenever Au-elie rebelled It wa
always down river with her.
NO, paw, he said God was wit
him, and damn everybody"
She stared into his t~ear-stained fac
"Knute, / just got to go to school.
got to be a lady! And nave hear
Of money! And do lots of things Il
you and Peter! Oh, Knute, l kno,
howl"
He watched her dark and tragic fac
Know how? What are you going [
do, Aurelie? 2" He faltered his horro
Whatever it a Aurelie would do !
''I"-she breathed tensely-"am 8
going to get married."
Knute looked feasfully at the jad
Married."
Yves, sirI To . rich man, SON
time! And have everything! But nr,
I got to go to school and be a ladyI"
'Oh. Aurelfe-" Knute gazed wild
away at the town lights. Who"
Then without a word, h pushe
him aside and fed out into the dar