The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1915-11-11

broadened from q twisted and narrow
assure to a crude chamber large
enough for a VOLTS den, or, at nee'.
a mans refuge. A fern-fringed brook.
let trickled across the opening.
For my dooryard I had a small pla-
teau with a sheer wall of cliff at my
back and as sheer a drop at the from.
One must climb to reach the place,
which is an advantage where the ten
ant may be forced to repel attack aid
may desire to roll stones down upon
the heads Of his visitors. My first
day brought no incident beyond this
selection Of a domicil.
The Wastrel must have gone to the
0ottom near by, for incoming tides
from time to time deposited strange,
satirical scraps of f1otsam. The sar-
donic humor of the sea Knocked me- by
delivering on my beach a tattcred
fragment of old newspaper and an
empty biscuit tin. There came also
bits of cordage and light timbers, but
as the hours heightened to days I
gave up all hope that Mansfield might
be saved by a late miracle, and that
we might be reunited.
It was two days later that I I iscov-
cred some bulky thing lodged, as my
raft had been, upon the nearby rocks.
The two days had told upon me. My
pajamas were in ribbons; my canvas
shoes torn, and my flesh bruised. My
feet, too, were cut and blistered and
my hands raw
I had already tired OF talking aloud
to myself, and more and more often
l caught myself turning with a sudden
start to peer app~rehensively at the
fringe of the forest. To my growing
morbidness it seemed that over the
beauty of the place hung an impalpa-
BILE but certain curse.
waded out eagerly to the fresh bit
of salvage and found a seaman's chest
with quantity knotted handles of
tarred ope It was of stout work
manship, and it's heavy locks and
hinges had endured without injury
the buffeting of the sea The name
of J. H. Lawrence, the youth who had
signed as second mate. was still le.i-
BILE upon n end.
Laboriously enough, I I dragged it in,
halting often to pant and wipe the
sweat out OF my eyes with my fore
arm.
The SUI was sinking owe the shoul.
der Of the mountain when I at last ar
rived, exhausted. but still Juggling At
my prize, upon the plateau of my cliff
apartment. lay a long while, my
heart pounding with exertion, before
I was equal to the task of attacking
ito lock with a stone and my sheath.
knife; and after that, it was some mo-
ments before the lock yielded and l
raised the heavy lid.
First there met my eyes a scattered
collection Of souvenir postcards,
much discolored and faded, but suf-
fciently preserved to awaken a clam
or of protest and longing. There were
tantilizing pictures of the Cafe de
Paris, and Trafalgar Square, and the
bund at Hong-Kong. Here were the
details of the life at which I had raj.
lied, and now I'knew I would have
sold my soul to be hack again at the
center of it.
Young Mr.. Lawrence must hare
could trace his Odyssey by trivial
things he had picked up here and
there. Two curved daggers with tur-
quoise settings in the hilt had come
from the bazaars of Damascus or Je-
~rusalen. A copper incense burner
with a package of scented tapers had
been brought from Toxic or Nagasa-
XII. Equally useless things filled pack.
age after package.
I might burn perfumed sticks and
look at souvenir cards and play with
curved daggers, I bitterly told myself,
but no mission-chest piously QUILTED
at home ever carried to the remote
heather a more useless assortment of
unnecessaries than this one brought
to me.
There was not a shirt nor an article
of utility in sight. i, seeking raiment
to cover my nakedness, found trink-
cts as useful as doll babies to a prize
fighter. At last, however, I came up
on two packages carefully wrapped III
sail cloth. So pairstaking and Sc
cure had been their packing that
when I took off TIE first covering and
the second, I found that the contents
had suffered no wetIing.
The first bundle contained the vio-
lin which had jncensed the captain
and several packages of extra strings.
AS l look it out, l seemed to hear
| again the plaintive, wordless song of
tragedy that it had sung when last
I heard it's nor than human voice.
l laid it down reverently, for it seem.
ed a part of the dead mans soul
| something intimate and wonderful
| which had outclassed his mortality.
In the second package was some
thing wrapped in tissue paper ard
very soft to the touch. I opened it
| and spread out on the sand a gor-