The Yale expositor. (Yale, St. Clair County, Mich.) 1894-current, 1920-12-09
CHAPTER l-continued.


him with feverish quickness
tive lived twenty years without the
world. I'll not 60 back to 1t now"
"But, mother, If we just keep on this
way, you'll-you1l"-he hesitated at
the next word finally let it fall-"die."
''Diei" she seemed to fondle the
word. "a small thing-to die!"
She sat musing as If she found a
melancholy comfort in the thought
But 1 shan't die" she continued,
with hasty glance up at his face.
my cough is worse today because my
medicine is gone"
The young man started.
"Your elecampane gOnew
81 took the last of it yesterday"
Mother 20
He went to the cook stove and lifted
the saucer from a small jar in which
the roots were usually stepped. 1t was
empty and dry. There was great ten
derness in his voice as he came back
and bent over her chair.
"You shall have your elecampane
tea" he said, "if the roots are to be
found in the Flatwoods; and you shall
sleep tonight in the old cabin up there
under the cool trees"
A ripple Of pleased expectation, OF
half-awakened interest, broke the
drear surface of the weary face-like
faint glow back of a curtain that
never raises.
He refilled the cup with cool water,
rummaged a spade out OF the locker
under the forward deck, and was just
on the point of leaplng to the bank
when he heard her speaking. He
poked his head back inside the cur
tains, and she repeated what she had
Just said:
"Isn't the Flatwoods where the Wild
Man livesi Seems to me once heard
that there is such a man In these
woods"
He felt carelessly along the rusty bit
of the spade with his thumb.
81 believe this is the woods"
Maybe he's-I mean-he's not dan
gerousr
Dangerous A gray ghost Of
man with a pitiful face. They say he
goes through the woods as still as
smoke, and leaves as little trail"
A minute later he had leaped ashore,
climbed the bluffs and plunged into
the deep woods.
The root of the elecampane was
much esteemed as remedy for
coughs, but it was by no means abun-
dant. No one knew this fact better
than the Pearlhunter.
The small stream that feeds the wa
terfall at Fallen Rock is known as
Wolf run. Following up along its
course the Pearlhunter presently came
TO tiny thread of water that Joined II
from the west-probably the outlet of
some small pond tucked away among
the hills. 1t is along the open margins
Of swamps and ponds, and never In
the thick woods, that the elecampane
grows. Believing from the warmth
and dullness of its water that the tiny
stream came from pond, rather than
from spring, the Pearlhunter fol-
lowed IL.
II had grown so small that the
Pearlhunter began to fear II would
disappear altogether, when there came
a break In The forest line Just ahead.
A scramble through a dense fringe of
hazel, and there II lay-a little pond
IN the midst OF narrow glade in a
pocket Of the hills, q delicate iulay in
the forest.
The man glanced at the sun;
turned, and hurriedly looked about for
the elecampane. Along the east edge
Of the glade, not far out from the
fringe of hazel, he found ia clump
Of some dozen stalks, three or four Of
them ready to bloom. The rusty spade
was soon at their roots--probably the
first ground ever broken on the mar
gin OF that pond. Three plants he
digged, cut their stems close to the
ground, shook the dirt from their clus-
tiers Of fleshy roots, cad hurried down
the tiny outlet back 30 Wolf run.
II was upon the sravelly margin Of
pool that the PeSflhunter stopped to
wash the elecampane roots, and cut
them loose from The clusters In which
he had been carrying them. He had
finished the task and was storing
them away in the pockets of his blouse
when the song Of thrush from some
where up the stream gradually worked
itself across his consciousness.
The song puzzled him. There were
notes--certain little foreign flights;
deeper witchery--that he could not
have believed possible to a thrushs
throat. The Pearlhunter had a nice
ear for the sounds Of the woods. He
stole cautiously up the bank. The
.oupd when he had draw quite near