Emmons County record. [volume] (Williamsport, D.T. [i.e. N.D.]) 1884-current, 1919-05-15
CHAPTER xxxn.
The White Might.

CHAPTER XxXll.
-13
The White Might.
'Lord, Tn tired" groaned Richard.
stumbling into camp. wet to the skin.
s'DOn't You say letters to me, Mac.
I'm going to bed. Tell Ling I don't
want any dinner. He'll want to fuss
up something. I don't want to see
food"
The day. confused and jumbled,
burned across his eyeballs; turmoil
Of hustle and hurry Of insurrection. He
had made swift stand against that.
He was to be minded to the last man
Jack Of them. or anyone would 70, his
threat including the engineers, Silent,
Irish, Wooster, Hardin himself. This
was no time for factions, for leader
feeling.
In bed, the day with its irritations
fell away. He could see now the step
ahead that had been taken; the last
trestle was done; the rock-pouring
well on; he called that going sonnet
He felt pleasantly languid, but not yet
sleepy. His thought wandered over the
resting camp. And then lines Hardin
came to him.
Not herself, but as a soft little
thought which came creeping around
the corner Of his dreams. She had
been there, of course. all day. tucked
away In his mind. as though In his
home waiting for him to come back to
her, weary from the pricks of the day.
The way he would come home to her,
please God, some day. Not bearing
Ills burdens to her, he did not. believe
in that, but asking her diversions. Con-
tentment spread her soft wings over
him. He fell asleep.
Richard Weakened as to call. What
had startled HINT He listened, rails
ing himself BY his elbow. From dis
lance, WWeet high voice, unreal In its
pitch and thrilling quality. came to
him. It WIS Godfrey. somewhere ON
the levee. singing by the river. It
brought him again to Innes Hardin.
He pulled aside his curtain which
hung over the screening Of his tent
1oA looked out into moon-flooded
vseid. Richards syes fell on little
rent over yondee. a white shrine.
"White AS that fine sweet soul Of
hers!"
Wandering into the night, Godfrey
passed down the river. singing. His
voice, the footlights, the listening
great audiences were calling to him.
To him. the moon-fooded levee, the
glistening water, made star-set
scene. He was treading the boards.
the rushing waters by the bank gave
the orchestration for his melody-'La
Donna Mobile" He began 1t to Gerty
Hardin; she would hear 1t in her tent ;
she would take it as the tender re
proach he had leased her with that
afternoon In the ramada.
He gave for encore q ballad long
forgotten; he had pulled It back from
the cobwebs of two decades; he had
made it his own.
"But. my darling. you will be,
Ever young and fair to me-"
It came. the soaring voice. to Tom
Hardin, outside Gerty's tent on his
lonely cot. He knew that song. Dis
dained by his wife, pretty figure a
man cuts! II his wife can't stand
him, who can? He wasn't good enough
for her. He was rough. His life had
kept him from fitting himself to her
taste. She needed people who could
talk like Richard, sing like Godfrey.
People, other people. might miscon-
strue her preferences. he knew they
were not flirtations; she needed her
Kind. She would always keep straight
che was straight as whip. Life was
rs hard for her as It was for him; he
could feel sorry for her; his pity was
divided between the two of them. the
husband, the wife, both lonely in their
own way.
On the other s.ae Of the canvas
walls, Gerry HarAn lay listening to
xass message meay,e Sir her. The tickle
se1, he had called hers; no censtancy
Ia woman, he had declared. fondling
her hair. He had tried to coax her
into pledges, pledges which were also
dieavowals to the man outside.
Silver threadsl Age shuddered al
her threshold. She hated that song
Cruel, life had been to her; none Of Its
promises had been kept. To be happy
why, that was humans birthright
&rab It, that was her creedl There
%as chance yet; youth had not gone
He was singing It to her. her escape
'Darling, you.will be.
Ever young and fair to me-"
Godfrey, singing to Gerty Hardin
had awakened the camp. Innes. in
her tent, too. was listening.
"Darling, You will be.
Ever young and fair to mel"
So that is the miracle, that wild
rush Of certain feeling! Yesterday
Aoubting, tomorrow, more doubts but
>pnight, the song. the night isolated
<Aem. herself and Richard, into q
,eurld OF their own. Life with him or
any terms she wanted.
~nAoreo wynn