Essex County herald. [volume] (Guildhall, Vt.) 1873-1964, 1915-04-09

IuFVy Ierudy
He's mighty porely." replied the
other, in a sullen voice.
"All right. Thet's another reason
why hit haint healthy fer ye over
hyar."
The spy turned and made his way
over the mountain.
"D-n him!" muttered Samson,
his face twitching, as the other was
lost in the underground. Some day
I'm a-goin' ter gift him"
Tamarack Spicer did not at once
reappear and when one Of the Souths
met another in the road the customary
dialogue would be: "Heered anything
of Tamarack?" No, hev you
mo, nary a word"
AS Lescott wandered through the
hills, his unhurt right hand began cry
ing out for action and a brush to
nurse. AS he watched, day after day.
the unwilling of the monumental hills
and the transitions from hazy, wrath
like whispers Of hues to strong, tiar1ng
riot of color, this fret Of restlessness
became actual pain. He was wasting
wonderful opportunity and the crea-
tive instinct in him was clamoring.
One morning, when he came out just
after sunrise to the tin wash basin
at the well, the desire to paint was on
! him with compelling force. The hills
ended near their bases like things BIT
ten off. Beyond lay Iimitless stream
ers of mist, but, while he stood at gaze,
the filmy veil began to lift and float
| higher. Trees and mountains grew
taller The sun, which showed first
as a ghost-like disk of polished alumni
mum, struggled through orange and
vermilion into a sphere of living
flame. Lescott heard voice at his
side.
When does ye low ter commence
paintin'?"
1t was Samson. For answer the
artist, with his unhurt hand, impa-
tiently tapped his bandaged wrist.
I'VE still got yore right hand, hain't
ye?" demanded the boy. The other
laughed. 1t was typical question. So
long as one had the trigger finger left
one should not admit disqualification
"You see, Samson" he explained.
this isn't precisely like handling a
gun. One must hold the palette; mix
the colors; wipe the brushes and do
half dozen equally necessary things.
1t requires at least two perfectly good
hands. Many people don't find two
enough"
But hit only takes one ter do the
paintin', don't hit?"
YES"
"Welr-the boy spoke diffidently
but with between the
two of us we've got three hands.
reckon ye kin larn me how ter do
them other things fer ye.'
Lescott's surprise showed in his
face and the lad swept eagerly on.
"Mebby hit hain't none of my bust.
ness, but, all day yestiddy an the
day befo', was studyin bout this
here thing, an l hustled up an got
Eff l kin help We out I thought meb
by" He paused and looked appeal
ingly at the artist.
Lescott whistled and then his face
lighted into contentment.
To-day, Samson" he announced
"Lescott, South and Company get
busy"
1t was the first time he had seer
Samson smile, and, although the ex
preston was one of sheer delight, in
herent somberness loaned it a touch
of the wistful.
When, an hour later, the two sci
out, the mountain boy carried the par
aphernalia and the old man standing
at the door watched them off with a
half-quizzical, half-disapproving glance
AS the boy, with remarkable apti
tude learned how to adjust the ease
and arrange the paraphernalia, Lescott
sat drinking in through thirsty eyes
the stretch of landscape he had deter
mined to paint.
Then, while he painted, the boy helG
the palette, his eyes riveted on the
canvas, which was growing from 6
blank to a mirror of vistas-and the
boys pupils became deeply hungry.
The day Of painting was followed
by others like it. The disabling o.
Lescott's left hand made the constant
companionship of the boy a matter
that needed no explanation or apology
though not matter of approval to his
uncle
Another week had passed without
the temperance of Tamarack Spicer
One afternoon Lescott and Samson
were alone on a cliff-protected shelf
and the painter had just blocked II
with umber and neutral tint the crude
sketch Of his next picture.
(TO BE CONTINUED)