Mexico Missouri message., 1914-12-24
CHAPTER V-contlnued.

The two men had lost an hour
huddled under a canopy beneath the
cannonading of a sudden storm. They
had silently watched titanic battalions
OF thunder clouds riding the skies In
gusty puifs OF gale and raking the
earth with lightning and bail and
water.
My God" exclaimed the mountain
boy abruptly I'D give anything ef
] could paint that"
Lescott rose smilingly from his seat
before the easel and surrendered his
palette and sheaf of brushes.
Try It," he invited.
For a moment Samson stood hest.
tant and overcome with difiidence;
then, with set lips, he took his place
and experimeutaIly fitted his fingers
about the brush, as he had seen Les
colt do, He asked no advice. He
merely gazed for a while, and then,
dipping a brush and experimenting for
his color. went to sweeping in his pri
mary tones. Samson. even though he
was hopelessly daubing, and knew it,
was sincere. and the painter at his
elbow caught his breath and looked on
with the absorption OF a prophet. who,
listening to childish prattle. yet recog-
rizcs the gift of prophecy.
@Thet's the way hit looks ter me-"
the boy said. simply.
That's the way it is commended
his critic. 4.
For a while more Samson worked
at the nearer hills, then he rose.
I'm done" he said. "hain't a-goin'
ter fool with them thar trees an
things. | don't know nothing erbout
tibet. can't paint leaves an twigs
an birdsnests. What | like is noun.
tings an skies an sech-like things"
Lescott looked at the daub before
him A less trained eye would have
seen only the daub, just as a poor
Judge of horsefiesh might see only
awkward joints and long legs in q
weanling colt, though IL be bred in the
purple.
Samson" he said. earnestly, that's
all there is 10 art It's the power to
feel the poetry of color. The rest can
b. taught The genius must work. of
course--work, work, work, and still
work, but the gift is the power of
seeing true-and, by God, boy. you
have 1t. You've got what many men
have struggled a lifetime for, and
failed. I'd like to have you study with
me. I'd like to be your discoyerer.
Look here"
The painter sat down, and speedily
went to work. He painted out moth
ing. He simply toned, and, with pre-
cisely the right touch here and there
softened the crudeness, laid stress on
the contrast, melted the harshness
and, when he rose, he had built, upon
the rough cornerstone OF Samson's
laying. picture.
THAT proves it," he said Il had
only to finish. / didn't have much tC
undo. Boy, you're wasting yourself
Come with me. and let me make you
We all pretend there is no such thing
in these days, as sheer genius; but
deep down, we know that, unless Their,
is. there can be no such thing as tru'
art There is genius and you havt
it." Enthusiasm was again sweepin;
him into an unintended outburst.
The boy stood silent. Across hi
countenance swept conflict of emo
tions He looked away, as if takinI
counsel with the hills.
It's what I'm a-honin' fer" he ad
mitted at last Hits what I'D Civ
half my life fer | mout sci
my lane an raise the money
/ reckon hit would take passels @
money, wouldn't hit?" He paused, an
his eyes fell on the rife leaning agains
the tree. His lips frightened in sudde
remembrance He went over an
picked up the gun. and, as he did 81
he shook his head.
No" he stolidly declared; ever
man to his own tools. This here
nine"
Yet. when they were again OF
sketching, the temptation to play wit
brushes once more seized him. and h
took his place before the ease
Neither he nor Lescott noticed a ma
who crept down through the timbe
and for time watched them Th
mans face wore a surly, coE:emptuou
grin, and shortly it withdrew.
But, aA hour later, while the bo
was still working industriously an
the artist was lying on his back, wit
pipe between his teeth, and his hal
closed eyes gazing up contentedl
through the green OF overhea
branches their peace was broken b
plfaw of derlsiye laughter The
Hooked III. to find at their backs a sem