The Dolores star., 1917-02-02

tey Gdj0tn, - the theme OF the dr.
menidn story given here. Its scene
is in the present field of scar. 1t
Is from Aharonedus tale, "Bldcs the
Or"
Chsro, the Armenian hunter, cared
for weather as little as did the bears
and wolves that he fought. He suf-
fered natures cruelties as stubbo-nly
as did the rocks Of his native noun
tains. His continual strife, his con-
tinual shedding Of blood, had given
him not only the courage of q beast
Of prey but the silence Of one.
Silent and unsmiling, he brought his
trophies to the village. Silent and
unsmiling. he bore them past the ad-
miring people. Silent and unsmiling,
he departed.
But one day he entered the village
smiling. On his back was a strange,
a horrible burden. II was not a dead
wild beast, but prey heavier and far
more noble. And Chsro smiled under
this burden. With a terrible. fatal
smile Chsro smiled as he stopped be-
heath the body Of his only son.
"See Chsro's trophy !" he cried, when
he villagers gathered. "Whose prey
$ this? 1t Is the prey of the Kurds
{ hunt wild beasts! They hunt Ar
nenians!'
The son had been killed by Kurdish
-aiders while he was trying to defend
rom them the pair Of oxen with which
he had been blowing.
And Chsro went back to his noun
tains and lay in wait-but not for ami
mails. He did not turn his steps home
ward again until he had drunk out Of
his followed hand the blood of the
Kurds who had slain his son.
When he re-entered the village the
neighbors clamored that 1t had been
raided in his absence and that his
daughter and his sons widow had been
carried of. Chsro listened. Without
word or a sob, he listened, turned
away, and disappeared.
After many days he came back and
did something that struck the village
dumb. He gathered his possessions,
piled them in his house and set all on
fire. When the last glowing rafter had
fallen, he took his little grandson
Trumo by the hand and went away.
None Of the village ever saw him
again, but before many days they
learned Of the terrible deed that the
iron man had done previously to burn
ing his house. He had crept to the
Kurdish stronghold and had stabbed
the two captured women to death, that
the outrage to his family honor might
vanish from the earth.
Chsro and his little Thumo wan
dered, clinging to existence by every
means that misery could devise. As
they went on, begging, starving, freez.
ing, the old hunters mind became sick.
Thumo's great, blue eyes made him
| shudder; for they were the eyes of
his unhappy mother, whose innocent
blood had poured dreadfully over the
hunters hand when he stabbed her.
He began to forget why he had slain
his dear ones. Only the horror, the
heartlessness of his deed survived in
his memory. He suffered dim tor
ments by day. Vivid phantoms tor
tured him at night. II it had not been
that he must remain alive to care for
little Thumo, his practiced hand
would have sent the steel into his own
throat, and he would have gone to God
to tell his tale-such a tale, thought
old Chsro sobbing, that heaven would
shudder, the angels would wall and the
splendid stars lose light.
Weary, wretched and ragged, they
| came at last into town where there
was a bazaar. Chsro and Thumo sat
down against a wall to get the warmth
Of a meager sun. Suddenly the old
man, looking at the busy market
scene, began to ween.
Little Thumo looked in the direction
of his grandfather's gaze. He saw a
Kurd with a beautiful OK.
"Blaes, grandfather, our$ Blaes y
screamed the child. He ran to the OK
and began to kiss the broad forehead
between the soft, gentle eyes.
The Kurd, suspecting instantly that
these must be the previous owners OF
the animal, tried to drive it away
but the child chung to the great, silken
ear, and the powerful brute stood oh,
stinately still, seeking Thumo's cheek
with his muzzle.
TT is not thine!" said the Kurd
| softly. my life on it.! Come, child,
| and let him go!"
He tried to loose the boys hold on
the OK. Grandfather! Grandfather ~
| walled Thumo.
A crowd had gathered. Chsro could
not see what vas happening. He could
only hear his grandchiId scream. In
slant fury seized him. He sprang up,
broke through the crowd. and leaped
at the Kurd, gripping his throat.
The Kurd struggled. He tore the
hair from Chsro's head. But the nerv-
,us old hands were as iron rings. and