The Ekalaka eagle. [volume] (Ekalaka, Mont.) 1909-1920, 1914-05-15
The Life of a Willful Boy
Who Set Upon Himself the
Responsibility Of Avenging
His Fathers Murder :: ::

olA0 wv AASA ~ y
whispered softly, Yer nanny sent
yer these. an she says she'll be erlong
soon." Then half surprised ut herself
she looked wondering down at the
heap Of blooms. Why had she so nat
urally repeated the crazy old woman's
message: Just as though the dead girl
could really hear-could she perhaps?
With the thought the realization of the
%nearness Of the Unseen world swept
over the girl for the first time. Was
1t possible that .Amabel Lamf1re, in Il
beauty of spirit probably far more
beautiful than even her exquisite physi-
cal personality had been. stood by and
watched this other young daughter Of
the Draft piling the white bridal
wreath all over her grave-the bridal
wreath which was never hers to wear?
And If she watched, what did she feel
toward the girl who loved Anderson
Cree's son? Would she resent anoth-
er's happiness because her own heart
had been broken? With a quick fear
Mary put her delicately pure face down
among the flowers and whispered:
LET me an David be happy: Oh, let
me an David be happy w and
over. And in her heart she meant her
petition only for Amabel Lamtire.
For a moment more she bent over
the grave, then with a last touch upon
the flowers she rose to her feet and,
stepping again across the other graves,
regained the path, and as she did so
she anne suddenly face to face with
David Cree.
David gave a low. joyous laugh, as
though the sight Of her was the con-
summation Of a long train Of golden
dreams.
II thought maybe you'd come back
this erway,'' he said. Mis- Reddin
said you'd gone over ter Ant Mar
thy's.'
He stood still in The path before her
without moving nearer. just looking at
her. as though the reality of her sweet
presence came to him as q fresh sur
prise.
Then all at nee, and still in silence.
IN o9Clltu " Ills i'll II iLlu 1clu
them out to her.
An instant Mary hesitated half fear
fully. But there was nothing now
about him Of the fierce passion that
he had showed the evening before; in
stead his silent gesture woocd her ten
derby. almost revcrently.
4 moment more she paused. then
with the fash of a bird she ven into
the shelter Of his arms. and her heart
and her soul went with her.
And thus in the green aisles Of the
spring woods David Cree and Mary
Reddin made their promises to one an
other up by the old Hull graveyard.
"llappy is the man who has found
Lis life's work. All. happy indeed.
But how few find it, or when finding
it recognize it and know past all doubt
that in that occupation and in no other
shall they find their best fulflImcnt.
Finding his lifc'S work. George He'd
rick knew 1t and was a happy man.
He loved life and the compauionShip
OF his fellow men. Womcn and chit
drcn: he loved tho gossip of things
past and present and the gucsses mt
the future: he loved Il shady porch to
sit upon in the summer and n warm
ter, and always in both seasons an OK,
ira chair for Il friend; and all these
things Of his desire calne to him in
full measure. pressed down and ruiz
ming over, with the keeping Of a cross
roads store.
In truth. with abundant opportunity
for the study OF life and sufficient for
Il livelihood. what more could any MAJ,
desire: Certainly George Hedrick wish
Cd for nothing further.
Fortunately for Hedrick. almost III
rectly in front Of his shop the jumping
creek, on n Of its many erratic dives
from one side of the valley to the 9th.
or, flows at this spot across the county
road. making thereby n sweet and
shady little ford ovcrhung by the big
branches of a willow tree. through
which ford few travellers passed with.
out letting their horses heads dovr
| for a drink. And while the horses re-
freshcd their thirsty throats the store
keeper, in the few minutes pause, re
frcshed their drivers with the lates,
tidbits OF shouted news. And whcr
there CHANGED hot, ~rainless summer.
| which dried the Jumping creek to 8
mere undrinkable thread Of water sc
that teams and equestrians alike dash
cd through it without stopping, George
Hedrick's life held its nearest approach
to tragedy. and his usual genial nature
vaS sfunr almost To nascimiSna