Cavalier County farmers press. (Langdon, N.D.) 1920-1921, 1920-09-16
CHAPTER Ill.
A Man Without a. Name,

a War without a name.
The Pearlhunter sat on the door
step Of the cabin, his face bowed in
his hands. 1t was June upon the
slope under the trees; June in Wolf
Run %chuckling and chirking along on
it's way from spring and waterfall to
the river; June in the heart Of a car
dinal rocking upon the top twig of a
tall hickory; December in the heart
Of the ~Pearlhunter.
Halfway down the slope, beyond
the tangled underbrush and in the
edge of the grass-covered open strip
that bOrdered the river shore, the
green was broken by a mound Of fresh
earth. He had trimmed it round with
shells brought up from the river
upon the head had planted a cluster
of orchids, the lady's-slipper of the
F~latwoods. They were like her, the
orchids-a lonely flower; one to a
wide stretch of solitude. Nobody but
he could have found so many, because
nobody knew the woods so we'll.
AS he looked back over the years,
he found himself bordering the con,
tradictions of his mothers life, in the
light Of the story he had heard that
memorable afternoon-the refinement
in the midst Of mean surroundings
the stern pride that had held her sc
long in exile because Of a word that
had, mayhap, been long repented. The
muck and CRIME Of the river had
never smudged her. Through it all
she had kept as pure, as white, as a
flake of snow-and as cold.
"What air y'u calc1atin' t. do with
them wild roses here in tn tumbler in
the winder-keep 'em r chuck 'em
out? I cayn't find but one more
tumbler."
The voice of the old Boss half
startled the man on the doorstep. The
night or day.
The Pearlhunter had forgotten him,
the rumpled house, the dishes, every
thing. He lifted his face from his
hands, rose, and entered the cabin
The Boss was pointing to three wild
roses-a red, a pink, a white-in a
tumbler Of water in the window.
The vision the P%earlhunter had seer
on the rock at the pool came again.
A vision-it had been just that, only
that; an exquisite picture flashed be.
fore his face and instantly s%natched
away-a picture he would never see
again. 1t seemed unreal as he looked
back upon it in the light of another
day. But no, there were the roses. He
bent his face down and caught the
aroma Of their breath.
"Let them be-" he said. "They will
last another day."
The Boss made no reply. To him
they were merely faded roses. He was
sitting on the doorstep about to light
his pipe when the younger nan called
him. With the freshly filled pipe in
one hand, the unlighted match in the
other, he rose and stepped back into
the cabin. The Pearlhunter was
standing before a small h~air-covered
trunk, scarcely bigger than an ordi-
nary suitcase Of the present day. 1t
stood open, with the lid thrown back,
exactly as it had stood two nights be-
fore when he came up from the river
and found his mother dying. It's con
tents seemed to indicate that they had
Deer rummaged through by some one
whose haste had been great-doubt-
less by his mother. 1t hurt him to re-
call the cause Of that haste. The
bloodstained glove she had held in her
hand lay uppermost, probably tossed
there by one of the river men.
"It's time to know what's in this
trunk
A certain tenseness in his voice es-
capped the Boss.
"Don't y'u?"
1--WE never seen inside of it before"
The Boss was in the act Of scraping
his match. He stopped; looked
around out Of the tail Of his eye, but
whatever his thoughts, he made no
comment.
First Of all, here's this glove" the
young man vent on, lifting the glove
from the trunk. "You know where
we-saw it first"
The Boss threw away the stub of
his match and felt the ti%me-stained
and widowed article.
west Point" he muttered. "Hit's
tn kind them sprigs wears-oficer's,
I'd say, offhand."
The other stood considering it; laid
1t aside; and lifted the next article
from the trunk. 1t proved to be a
woman's dress Of rich brocade. Little
MS the two men knew of such matters.
II impressed even them as being Of