Pierre weekly free press. (Pierre, S.D.) 1889-19??, 1914-05-14

proud as he voiceo their conscience
AGAINST outw5rn theories Of wealth and
privilege. he IA fallen. He thought OF
now they would discuss him tomorrow
about the polls. his useless name on
the oallots-a man apart. branded with
a nameless stain. the eternal whisper
following him. 1es. he had found bot
tom after the resurge of his life. He
mad risen to fall. Love had made the
way and then defeated him.
FROM the high point he saw a yellow
scar and knew 1t was the Qusrry. with
beyond the shanties of the pocket
sauatters. Up this trail she had rompe.
ana grown, his child. his little girl.
laughing the way OF her vulgar up.
bringing, all unknown and uncared for.
And he-he might nave done so much
he who all his thriftless life had
needed the touch Of a hand in his!
He tried to recall the first time hi
mad seen her-a dark-haired child in
a red dress going past his shop with
the b~arelegged Lindstrom boys. Then
a schoolgirl, slim. with sharp-eyed lit
tie Gallo tricks and poses; and then
the maid he had come to know. Moody
at times. and lonely; passionate still
with eagerness to live and be. And
thence on to his misunderstanding hes
way into his dreams. the bizarre ro-
nance in his obscure struggle, lifting
him by her kinship of feeling, of adj
venture. of follies and eNtravagancea
Oh. the way they had ONE unknow-
ing!-the two outcasts to their trl.
umph!
Then he bowed his head with hum
bleness at this other miracle. With EN-
her droll playing with him. her grate-
full fondness for him. he had been the
pure in heart. The wonder of it! That
always. his passion had BEEN shell
tering and protecting one-a father
hood. indeed, that defended her against
the towns tongues. that exulted in her
success. And once again he looked Off
to the east and his mystic impulse
came. He kissed his fingers to the dun
sky and whispered: Because YOU'RE
there, Aurelie-just because yours
there!"
At dark he went to the cabin. and
before a tiny fire sat long. A morrow
was to be thought ola sober reckon
ing tomorrow, the long straight road.
He would have to go, he reasoned; he
was crushed. destroyed here. And then
a flame of logged courage swept him.
No, he would not go! He had done no
wrong. Fate had struck him down, but
he accepted. He would make his fight
"a losing fight. perhaps-with the in
finite cruelty of o%stracism and the jeers
Of misunderstanding; the mutter ot
nameless things that men whisper onl.
to their kind. always about him. But
he would stay: he would steel his soul
to 1t, with some sort of new patience
and pride in remuneration tina none
could know. Unless it was best for her.
Then he would go, gladly the ~wanderer;
silent. crying dow his fa%therhood, his
lonely owe for her. For she had best
not know he whispered--never, nevera
What need of his burden on her?
In the dark he CROPPED about this cir.
Gle. and nothing could he find except
that what was for her. he would do.
Nothing else would matter. Then he
slept. as he had not dreamed he could
sleep, in a child's peace; or as one who
had emptied his soul, beholding a flame
burn it out to purity. Once, in the
night. he awakened and found his lips
muttering: THANK God!" and then
slept again in his inexplicable peace.
Only. o. this consciousness, there
seemed to come sounds, faint and far.
like the firing Of a shot now and then.
When dawn am he arose, hungry
and stiffened with WEAKNESS cold,
but with a cleansed hunger, a somber
resolve, a feeling of the need of men.
When he came out the low pressing
gray Of the sky was still on the hills,
He looked down and saw a farm wagon
on the far valley road. 1t came to him
that this was election day, and about
the polls the groups Were gathering.
But on the hush of the morning there
came again sounds h a he could dimly
recall in his dreams-gunshots. Once
they We're almost like a volley.
Now. on his descent to town, he could
see black distant figures, men moving
out the road along the creek.