Wauwatosa news. [volume] (Wauwatosa, Wis.) 1900-1948, 1915-01-15
CHAPTER l..


Close to the serried backbone of the
Cumberland ridge through sky of
mountain clarity, the sun seemed hesi-
tating before it's descent to the horf-
Eon. The sugar-loaf cone that tow
cred above a creek called Misery was
pointed and edged with emerald trac-
cry where the loftiest timber thrust
up its crest plumes into the sun. On
the hillsides It would be light for
more than an hour yet, but below,
where the waters tossed themselves
along In chorus Of tiny cascades, the
light was already thickening into
cathedral gloom. Down there the "fur-
riner" would have seen only the rough
course of the creek between moss
velveted and shaded powders of
titanic proportions. The native would
have recognized the country road in
these tortuous twistings. A great block
of sandstone, to whose summit man
standing in his saddle could scarcely
reach his fingertips, lowered above
the stream, with a gnarled scrub oak
clinging tenaciously to it's apex. Loft
&Ay On BOLu 5iuGS Cl4lllDCQ Zig ulQ0A-
tains cloaked in laurel and timber.
Suddenly the LEAKAGE was thrust
aside from above by cautious hapd,
and 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-
tion of life and youth, and started out
on the table top of the huge rock.
But there she halted suddenly with
startled exclamation and drew instinc
lively back. What she saw might well
have astonished her, for 1t 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 fiat rock
for distance of twenty-five feet and
paused again to listen.
At the far edge lay a pair of saddle
bags. such as form the only practical
equipment for mountain travellers.
Near them lay tin box, Uttered with
small and notwithstanding tubes of
soft metal, all grotesquely twisted and
stained, and beside the box was
strangely shaped plaque CT wood
smeared with dozen hues. That this
plaque was painters sketching pal
cite was a thing which she could not
know, since the ways of artists had
10 do with world as remote from
her own as the life OF the moon or
stars. II was one Of those vague mys-
teries that made up the wonderful life
Of down below" Why had these
things been left here In such confu-
sion? II 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
fight.
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 finished pic
ture-merely study of what lay be-
fore her-but the hand that had
placed these brush strokes on the
academy board was the sure, def
hand of master Of landscape. who
had caught the splendid spirit of the
thing and fixed 1t 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
Then she saw other boards, like the
one upon the easel. piled near the
paint box. These were dry, and rep
resented the work of other days: but
they were all pictures Of her owl
mountains, and in each of them. az
In this one, was something that made
her heart leap.
To her own people these steep hill
sides and 'tcoves' and valleys were {
matter of course. In their stony sol
they labored by day. and in their shad
ows slept when work was done. Ye
someone had discovered that they hell
picturesque and rugged beauty: tina
they were not merely steep field
where the pillow was useless and tn,
hoe must be used. She must tell Sam
son-Samson. whom she held In al
artless e~altation OF hero worship
Samson, who was so smart" that b
thought about things beyond her vi
Outstanding; Samson, who could no
only read and write, but speculate o
problematical matters.
Suddenly she came to her feet wit
o swift darting impulse OF alarm. He