Tensas gazette. [volume] (St. Joseph, La.) 1886-current, 1916-06-30
BY FRANCIS LYNDE

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be the well-established custom, some
thing is due to fall in right now!"
Il have been looking for it all day"
returned Brouillard calmly.
1t was Murray Grislow who finally
rang the curtain call on the prolonged
talk.
Say, man! do you know that 1t is
after ten oclock?" he demanded, hold
ing the face of his watch down to the
glow of the dying embers. you may
sit here all night. if you like. but it's
name of guilty conscience is that?"
AS it CHANGED, they were both fac
ing toward the lower end of the val
ley when the apparition flashed into
view. In the deepest of the shadows
at the mouth of the gorge, where the
torrenting Niquoia Strengthened itself
momentarily before entering upon its
| plunging race through the mountain
barrier a beam of white light 1ickered
unsteadily for a fraction Of a second.
| q
trace a zigzag line up the winding
course of the river. across to the foot
| hill spur where the camp Of the recla-
nation service vanguard was pitched.
and so on around to the base of the
Chigringo. For certain other seconds
it remained quiescent. glowing bale
fully like the eye of some tabled mon
ster searching for its prey. Then it
was gone.
Grislow's comment took the form Of
a half-startled exclamation.
by Jove! wouldn't that give you a
fit of the creepies?-this far from civil
lization and a dynamo? What are you
calling it,"
"Your guess is as good as mine"
was the half-absent reply. Brouillard
had got upon his feet and was but
toning his many-pocketed shooting
coat
I'm going to take little hike down
yonder for investigation purposes.
Want to come along?"
But the mapper Of watersheds was
yawning sleepily. mot on your tin
type" he refused. I'm going to cork
it orr in me 'ammick.."
II was only q short mile from the
camp on the inward slopes Of the east
ern foothills to the mouth Of the outlet
gorge. across which Brouillard could
already see, in mental provision, the
great gray wall of the projected Nj
quota dam-his future Woodworking
majestically from the broken shoulder
of Chigringo to the opposing sleeps
| of Jacks mountain. The halfgrown
moon, fitting now toward the skyline
Of the western barrier, was leaving the
canyon portal in deepest gloom.
Picking his way judiciously because
the trail was new to him. Brouillard
came in due time to the descending
path among the spruces and scrub
pines leading to the western outlook
upon the desert swales and sandhills.
At the canyon portal. where the forest
thinned away and left him standing
at the head of the final descending
plunge in the trail. he found himself
looking down upon the explanation of
the curious apparition.
| None the less, what he saw was In
itself rather inexplicable. In the first
desert looping of the river a campfire
of pinyon knots was blazing cheerfully,
and beside it, with a picnic hamper for
a table, sat supper party OF three
| two men and a woman-in enveloping
| dust-coats, and a third man in chauf.
feur leather serving the sitters. Back
of the group, and with its detachable
searchlight missing. stood huge tour
ing car to account for the picnic ham
per, the dust-coats, the man In leather
and, doubtless, for the apparitional eye
which had appeared and disappeared
at the mouth Of the upper gorge. Also
1t accounted, in a purely physical
sense, for the presence Of the picnick
ers, though the within which had led
them to cross the desolate Buckskin
desert for the dubious pleasure of max
ing an all-night bivouac on its eastern
edge was not so readily apparent.
The young engineer saw no reason
why he should intrude upon the group
at the cheerful campfire. On the con
trary, he began speedily to find good
and sufficient reasons why he should
not. That the real restraining motive
was a sudden attack of desert shynes.
he would not have admitted. But the
fact remained. Four years in the rec
lamation service had made the good
looking young chief Of construction &
man-queller of quality. But each yeal
of isolation had done something
toward weakening the social ties.
A loosened pebble turned the scale
When a bit of the coarse-grained sand
stone of the trail rolled under Brouil