Vernon County censor. [volume] (Viroqua, Wis.) 1865-1955, 1916-03-15
CHAPTER xxlx-contInued.

ID
you would have followed me across
the world upon your knees, and you
served me like a slave. And IL re-
paid you with q white mans coin!
left you to break your heart among
the dusky people who were kinder
than L. But the Winds of
God blew upon my conscience and my
heart and | returned. Your face and
your faithful eyes, waiting. waiting,
brought me back from the far cities
only TO see you die in the lodge of
Kolawmie with my babe on your
breast, Or-you say l but dreamed,
Kahwanna?"
With failing sight the speaker tried
to pierce the mystery, gazing at Siletz.
Did l dream of death and retribu-
tion-and of Kolawmie. who-bent
above the babe to put that sign upon
her face? l struck his hand away
when it had set but a fraction of the
fatal bar-the sign that said you were
wild. that forbade you to the shallow
cities, that made you a white mans
toy! You-you-Kahwanna
have forgot. What is it / would re-
member"
The eagerness left the Preachers
eyes, they became suddenly calm and
mild.
With cry that cut high above the
steady sounds of the wind and the
fires Siletz sprang up, a hand flung to
her lips where the sign of the Siletz
stood out-broken in its inception!
my father!" she cried pitifully, "oh,
my father!"
Sandry was breathing heavily. a
mist in his eyes and sadness upon
his heart. His victory over Hampden
had lost its SAVIOR.
But the past with it's pitiful shad-
ows had drifted away from the Preach
er forever and the look of gentle ten
derness had returned.
my daughter" he said softly, why
do you weep? Ah-the night closes
down and it is dark. 1 have lost my
way. What is the path?"
His fingers CROPPED blindly for the
flute.
What is the way out of the LADY
rinth of youth-and sin-and prim-
roses? All. l have forgot"
With a sudden inspiration Sandry
stopped and picked up the instrument.
He had played bit at college. Softly,
silverly, the joyous notes began, "Je-
sus, Lover of My Soul" to go on to
that ancient plea of trusting faith,
"Other refuge have none, Hangs my
helpless soul on thee" a strange voice
of glory amid the death and danger,
the sin and stress of the moment.
A holy peace spread on the white
features.
why, certainly" whispered the
traveller of the hills, how could for
get! That is the Way out"
And then, Hush! The murmur of
many wings All, it is Gods hand!
/ go-de profundis! Gloria in ex-
celsis!"
With that last whispered word the
wandering player of hymns, the
preacher to the irresponsibles and the
lover of humanity fumbled stifly at
his habits skirt. Sandry knelt, found
deep pocket, felt therein and brought
out a small Bible of long-past day.
Its edges were thin and frayed and
greatly worn. Its stiff back, with the
age-black, raised lettering, had long
since lost its corners. He knew it
instantly for the counterpart of that
one on Siletz' stand in the little south
room. 1t lad many openings of its
own, and it fell apart, first at the
psalms and then at a passage whose
beginning caught his eye as he placed
it in the loving hands that made to
grasp its familiar bulk-and failed.
The stately words whose solemn fore
cast had struck him once when he
sought for some clue to the Preachers
identity now seemed to ring in his
ears. stupendous requiem for the
nameless. high-souled, drifter-from the
ways-of-men who had spent his blame
less life in fanciful atonement for a
shadowy wrong.
Who shall ascend into the Hill of the
Lord? He that hath clean hands and a
soul unto vanity. nor sworn deceitfully.
The Preacher was of that past
which he had so long forgotten and
which Destiny had decreed should
flash back to him for one revealing
moment