Evening star., 1915-01-17


ward, clutched the wheel, then fell like a
stone.
Father sprang out, gathered up the limp
creature, and heaved him into the wagon
bed. l looked down fearfully at the uncon-
scious face His cheeks were mottled gray
with deathly chill, his mouth was bloodless,
his breath came in great, painting gasps.
Father wrapped him in the buffalo robes
and rubbed his slim hands in both big cal
loused palms and pulled off his soaked boots.
Then he turned the horses toward home.
TT was long past midnight when we plodded
up our own lane.
"Oh, Henry!" My stepmother flew to the
wagon. @Oh, | am SO thankful! All these
hours I've watched and waited Why,
Henry!7
Father lifted out that limp heap. In the
candlelight the boys face showed CHASTITY.
The cash on his temple was hideous, dark
ening mar.
Father carried him into the cabin and laid
him on the settle. My stepmother never
asked one question. Swiftly she set to work.
4Seth, fetch the old linen from my chest
Lucius, get the liniment. Mary Caroline,
go put on dry clothes You'll find a kettle
of venison broth on the hearth. You and
Seth drink some, then bring in bowlful.
When came back with the broth the boy
lay rolled in hot blankets before roaring
fire. His eyes were shut; his narrow, deli
cate face, washed clean of blood and CRIME,
lay white as wax on the pillow. Father, still
in his wet clothes, was rubbing liniment into
the boy swollen ankles. Mother was bind
ng his torn arm. She leaned over him.
"Feeling better, Son?'
The dusk lids did not stir; but his lips
moved in moan. al want to go back
3What say, Son?'
Again the wa. mouth spoke its blurred
sentence. Il want to 60 back"
@Back where? Can't you tell us?"
Then against the white linen his face grew
whittier still His head sank into the pillow
with a death-like weight.
Mother met Fathers eyes with quiet un-
derstanding: 4It's fortunate you found him
when you did, Henry"
Eyes" Father touched the lax wrist.
@It's-it's providential
XIELL, the gambler did not die. Twelve
" days he fought through raging fever
and high delirium Mother tended him day
times; for Father had to do his fall blowing
But Father sat up with him nights. Time
and again woke and peeped down from my
pallet, while Father, heavy-eyed, stiff with
WEAKNESS from his long day in the fields,
bent grasping the hot young hands.
what troubles you, Son? Tell me-"
A quavering sigh; then over and over, in
aching rhythm, as if some fevered pendulum
beat out the words in his sick brain, Il want
to go back! l want to go back!"
Back where, Son? Can't you tell me1
Try"
No answer; only wrench of the burning,
tormented young body, muffled sobbing
plea, Il want to go back! No, no! want
to go back!'
On the twelfth day the fever left him.
Then day after day he lay unmoving, his
eyes Shut his body lax as drowned thing.
But suddenly he began to gain. In week
the was up and stumbling about the cabin.
We children waited on him now; but I
don't believe he ever really saw us. Ger
tainly he never talked to us. He didn't talk
to anybody. Daytimes, as soon as he could
crawl, he tagged around after Father, trying
clumsily to help with the work. Evenings
he'd lie on the settle, his hard young mouth
set in queer, stubborn line his black eyes
fixed always on Fathers face. Always in his
eyes lurked a puzzled question, slow, deep
ening wonder. Times that look of strange,
brooding challenge would deepen, till you'd
think it must break out in words. But never
Once-neyer till his last hor,r with nc did