The weekly times-record. (Valley City, N.D.) 1912-1922, 1915-05-06

yond the horizon, and how the apple
blossoms filled the orchards in the
spring. He told her how he longed
to go back, and that his wandering
life had made It impossible for years.
Julia whispered: I'VE shall 60 there
In the spring, my friend"
He was charming as he sat there
holding her hands closely, his fine
eyes bent upon her. Sabron told her
things that had been deep in his
heart and mind, waiting for her here
SO many months. Finally, everything
merged into his present life, and the
beauty of what he said dazed her like
an enchanted sea. He was soldier,
a man of action, yet dreamer. The
fact that his hopes we're about to be
realized made him tremble, and as he
talked, everything took light from this
victory. Even his house in Normandy
began to seem a fitting setting for the
beautiful American.
1T is only Louis XIII chateau; It
stands very high, surrounded by or
chards, which in the spring are white
as snow" .0.,..
1--WE shall go there in the spring"
she whispered.
Sabron stopped speaking, his rev.
erie was done, and he was silent as
the intensity of his love for her
surged over him. He lifted her deli.
cate hands to his lips. 1T is April
now" he said, and his voice shook,
1t is spring now, my love-"
= Il
At Julia's side was a slight touch
She cried: "Pitchoune!" He put his
paws on her knees and looked up into
her face.
Brunei has brought him here" said
Sabron, land that means the good
chap is attending to his own love
making"
Julia laid her hand on Pitchounes
head. HE will love the Normandy
beach, Charles
"He will love the forests" said
Sabron; there are rabbits there"
On the little dogs head the two
hands met and clasped. "Pitchoune
is the only one in the world who Is
not de trop," said Julia gently.
sabron, lifting her hand again to
his lips, kissed it long, looking into
her eyes. Between that great mys.
terry of the awakening to be fulfilled,
they drew near to each other-nearer.
Pitchoune sat before them, waiting.
He wagged his tail and waited. No
one noticed him. He gave short
bark that apparently disturbed no
one.
Pitchoune had become de trop.
He was discreet. With sympathetic
eyes he gazed on his beloved master
and new mistress, then turned and
quietly trotted across the room to the
hearth-rug, sitting there meditative-
ly for a few minutes blinking at the
empty crate, where on the warm
spring day there was no fire.
Pitchoune lay down before the fire.
less hearth, his head forward on his
paws, his beautiful eyes still discreet
ly turned away from the lovers. He
drew long contented breath as dogs
do before settling into repose. His
thrilling adventures had come to an
end. Before fires on the friendly
hearth Of the Louis XIII chateau,
where hunting dogs were carved in
the stone above the chimney, Pit
choune might continue to dream in
the days to come. He would hunt
rabbits In the still forests above the
wheat fields, and live again in the
freight his great adventures on the
desert, the long runs across the sands
on his journey back to France.
Now he closed his eyes. AS a faith.
full friend he rested in the atmos-
phere of happiness about him. He
had been the sole companion of lone.
~ man, now he had become part Of
3 family. m
THE END. LII