The Rice belt journal. (Welsh, Calcasieu Parish, La.) 1900-19??, 1915-02-12


Mona NJ the
..h .. ,,.. ,, sI,v of
;... ..;, seemed hesi.
.nnr ~ tho hort.
..... .... that tow
er-5 g.. ".r Misery vas
nointe. n .7arald trac-
ery vE..s ... ..o3ber thrust
Nm its ....... ..,, the sun On
the b, aides It would be light for
more than an hour yot hut below
wharn Tn ....r. tossed themselves
elcnr in q q. ..g Of finn, cascades the
!,.ht vas DIV thiabanjng into a
.-edraj pr. Down there the "fur-
r.rer" would I'VE sa,n Onlv "A rongh
course of thn creek hetween moss
velvnted and shaded howldars NJ
titanic nroDorfions The native would
have recogni2ed the country road in
these tortnors twistinpe A great hIock
of sandstone TO whose summit q man
stonding in h;s saddle could ecarcaIv
reach his fngertins lowered ahove
the stream With a gnarled scrub oak
cInging tenaciouslv To its anex Loft
ilv on both sides climbed the noun
tains cloaked in laurel and timber,
Suddenly the LEAKAGE was thrust
aside from above by cautious hand,
and a shy, half-wild girl appeared in
the opening. For an instant she halt.
ed, with her brown fingers holding
back the brushwood, and raised her
face as though listening. AS she
stood with the toes Of one bare foot
twisting in the gratefully cool moss
she laughed with the sheer exhilara-
ton Of life and youth, and started out
on the table ton of the huge rock.
But there she halted suddenly with a
startled exclamation and drew instinc-
lively back. What she saw might we'll
have astonished her, for it was a thing
she had never seen before and of
which she had never heard. Finally,
treasured by the silence, she slipped
across the broad face of the flat rock
for a distance of twenty-five feet and
paused again to listen.
At the far edge Law a pair of saddle.
hacc such &c form tho only nroc+ical
equipment for mountain travellers.
Near them lay a tin box, Uttered with
small and NEUTRALITY-SUSPICIOUS. tubes of
soft metal, all grotesuuely twisted and
stained, and beside the box was a
strangely shaped plaque of wood
smeared with a dozen hues. That this
plaque was a painters sketching pal.
cite was thing which she could not
know, since the ways of artists had
to do with a world as remote from
her own as the life Of the moon or
stars. 1t was one of those vague mys-
terles that made up the wonderful life
Of down below" Why had these
things been left here in such confu-
sion? If there was a man about who
owned them he would doubtless return
to claim them. She crept over, eyes
and ears alert, and slipped around to
the front OF the queer tripod with all
her muscles poised in readiness for
night.
A half-rapturous and utterly aston
ished cry broke from her lips. She
stared moment, then dropped to the
moss-coVered rock, leaning back on
her brown hands and gazing intently.
Hits purty!" she approved, in a
low, musical murmur. Hits plumb,
dead beautiful"
Of course it was not a finished pic
ture-merely a study of what lay be,
fore her-but the hand that had
placed these brush strokes on the
academy board was the sure deft
hand of a master of Landscape. who
had caught the splendid spirit of the
thing and fixed it immutably in true
and glowing appreciation. Who he
was; where he had gone: why his
work stood there unfinished and aban.
doned. were details which for the mo.
ment this half-savage child-woman for
got to question. She was conscious
only of a sense of revelation and awe