Lower coast gazette., 1913-08-30

caught glimpses of the streams.
When he came to the first sluice he
saw that although he could probably
cross it by himself, he would not be
able to get Prince across. By the
low sun, glowing red under the rain
clouds, the gray expanse of delta land
looked wild and strange. Familiar
sights were fading, and in that weird
light of the stormy sunset the land
scape took on a spectral appearance.
AS he stood there alone, Tom in
vented plan after another. Each
seemed to rise in inspiration, to shine
in hope, to darken in doubt, and to
disappear. The sullen sun set behind
the clouds. The wind blew harder
than before, and the cold became
more intense. The sinister tide
swept higher, higher. 1t was then
five o'clock; by six, only the little hill
lock out of which the Lone Pine rose
would be dry; by eight o'clock the
whole ridge would be submerged.
Tom was numb with despair.
He heard a sound behind him and
turning. cried out at what he saw.
For there lay Prince. He had crawl
ed from the place where he had been
injured; and he was now So faint with
the exertion that he could not speak.
He beckoned Tom over to him.
ooh, please, cap'n," the negro
whispered between labored gasps for
breath and strength, "oh, please,
cap'n, don't you wait for me!
Tom sat on the sodden leaves beside
the negro, and drew Princes head
and shoulders on his knees. Il shall
stay with you, Prince" he said. And
Prince was too weak to make further
protest. Meanwhile the winter twi-
light gathered gray and chill; the
rush Of the waters grew fainter;
wild ducks came into the rice fields
for their night feeding. The deep
gaps in the bank were now running
brimful; escape was cut OFT. Fltfully
the wind moaned through the trees,
and as silently as a beast Of prey
the water crept up through the brier
thickets, and closed in on the two
boys. A mile away in the great plan
tation house a faint light glimmered.
Tom knew that they were just light
ing the lamps at home, and that soon
his mother would begin to wonder
where he was.
A few minutes passed; then far-of,
| there sounded a drumming, throD-
bling noise.
Prince stirred slightly. Oats
Jordan a-roliing, cap'n."
Tom listened with strained ears.
Then he gently lowered Princes head
to the ground. He thought he recog-
nized the sound, but he was not GER
tain. Breaking through brush and
briers, sinking over his knees in
water, he stumbled, rose, and fell
again, while the flood grew deeper,
and the painting Of a steamers en-
CINE grew louder. When he came to
the spot where the Lone Pine stood,
he saw the Thistle plowlng down the
river, swept on by the food.
He locked his arms about the great
tree, and climbed up until ne was
clear Of the shrubbery; then, clinging
to the bare trunk, in tun view of
those in the steamers pilot house, ne
snatched off his hat and waved it,
at the same time frantically shouting
and reckoning.
The heavy craft swung ponderous-
ly about; she headed upstream under
half-headway, and sent Off a boat.
They brought Prince out of the
thicket, where they found him lying
partly in the water. That night a
doctor set the broken leg, and both
Tom and Prince slept at home.
The Lone Pine still stands on the
ridge. To Tom, it is a monument to
Princes loyalty; to Prince it is the
mark of the place where Tom saved
his life. | could never look at it
without remembering that, truly,
many waters cannot quench love,
neither can the foods drown it.