The Washburn times. [volume] (Washburn, Wis.) 1896-1976, 1916-12-14

years were somehow discounted Dy
an almost elfin quickness Of glance,
and his hobbling gait, his whole ap-
pearance suggested Solomon among
cock-sparrows hopping along a pump
handle.
Bound for Corydon?"
eyes. Am I on the right tracer"
Folly the path an the towns bit
of mile ahead of ye-but if We will
pity the sorrow of foolish old blath-
erskite who can't build bit Of a fire
to save his sowl, yell not push on till
we've got the finder going" And he
thrust his flint and steel into the young
mans hands with an air of comical
dismay.
ooh, do" said the girl. Fathers so
stupid"
The young man took the flint and
steel with a laugh and knelt down to
obey. He rearranged the twigs with a
careful hand, struck a spark into the
finder and nursed it for breathless
moment; then tiny flame crept up
the pile of brush and the three looked
at one another in triumph.
"NOt that we're needin' fire at all,
at ALL" said the little old gentleman,
ION day like this; but it's always
a comfort in the woods"
"You build fire like woodsman,"
observed the girl admiringly, though
Of course you aren't One."
He flushed, for he knew that his
rags were an unusual dress for the
buckskin-clad men of the forest; and
the girl added quickly, Because you
aren't carrying a rifle"
"No, I'm no woodsman," he admit
ted, grateful for her tact, "but I've
come a long distance through the
woods and have had to learn little
Of their ways"
"Ye've come long way?" asked the
old gentleman. "Thin ye'd best be
sittin' down with us for a bit. Sure,
the town will wait"
"Oh, do !" added the girl impulsively.
"Tell us about the woods. Have you
seen any Indians? Father didn't want
to come out here today for fear one
would pounce on u.s." She laughed a
ripple more musical than that Of the
brook, and, tucking the skirts Of her
Amazon habit beneath her, settled her
self on the ledge Of limestone rock.
"Tell us about Indians" she went on
comfortably. "We came here from
New Orleans and haven't seen single,
real paint-and-feathers one yet. Ooh !"
she laughed in mock terror.
The fire cracked merrily up the face
Of the rock and draft of It's warmth
swept into the crevice of the stone.
The dusky thing lying within stirred
pleasantly.
'T've seen only peaceful Indians on
the road so far" smiled the young
man. II can't tell you any exciting
tales"
Don't be Fostering the lad, Toi-
nette," chided the old man. "I'll be
bound he's too tired to talk"
The notified rope within the crevice
felt the warmth Of the fire, stirred, I'M
coiled and glided nOiselessly toward
the aperture, paused again.
"You live in Corydon, sir?" asked
therein a weaver by trade"
The old gentleman put his head on
one side in dubious reflection. Small
chance for weaver, my lad" he an
swered, "for every cabin has loom
of it's own. But yell find something
for"
His words froze on his lips as a
tawny notified length flowed out
from the crevice, built itself up with
quick, sinuOus twist into a coil of liv-
ing death. But, with lightning quick
ness, the young man had seized his
oaken staff from the ground.
Don't move, Toinette" he cried !;
and on the words the cudgel whirled
above his shoulders and struck the
venomous head like thunderbolt. A
long left arm swept down and plucked
the girl from the spot where the ugly
folds curled and f1attened among the
rocks.
"Merciful heavenw cried the little
old man weakly, and buried his face In
his hands.
The girl drew a deep breath; and
the young man suddenly realized that
he was still straining her to his side.
He released her as though she burned
his fingers; and his face crimsoned
with shame.
II beg your pardon" he said awk-
wardly; "Pm sorry was so rough"
But the girls eyes shone like stars.
I'm not thinking Of roughness," she
said TREMENDOUSLY. "I'm just-thank-
full" She went over to her father
and kissed him.
"My boy" began the old man, one
arm around his daughters waist; and
ended: "Oh, If we were in Ireland,
where there ARE no bastes like that !"
The young man laughed. "They stop
to rattle here, thank God!"
/ But the little old man waved his
modesty aside.
'My name is Patrice O'Bannon," he
said, "and proud I'll be to know yours.
sir"
David Laurence" was the answer.
you've already called me by mine"
said the girl, ''I'm Toinette."
David blushed fierily. "I-there
wasn't time-I had heard your father
call you by name"
"Never mind" laughed the girl. II
owe you my life-names don't matter
now"
you'll honor me by being my guest,