The Clio messenger. (Clio, Mich.) 1907-current, 1920-11-18
CHAPTER W.
In the Spell Of the MIRAGE.

In the Spell of the Mirage.
quarter of a century is q short
time as world history goes, but il is n
considerable era in the life OF the
Canadian west. More things-momen
tous things-than can be limited at i'm
this narrative occurred in the % years
following the great thrush of 1882. The
boundless prairie reaches OF Manitoba
were now comparatively well settled,
and the tide of immigration. which.
after dozen years stagnation, had
set in again in greater flood than ever,
was now sweeping over the newer
lands still farther west The vast
sweep Of the horizon, once undefiled
by any work of man, was pierced and
broken with elevators. villages, and
farm buildings, and the Whit OF coal
smoke was blown down the air which
had so lately known only the breath
Of the prairies.
Mary Harris hurried about her ca
pacious kitchen. deep in preparation
OF the evening meal The years had
taken toll of the freshness Of her
young beauty; the shoulders in mute
testimony to much hard labor OF the
hand, had dropped forward over the
deepening chest; the hair was thin
ner. and farther back above the fore
head and streaked with gray at the
temples; the mouth lacked the rosy
sensuousness of youth, and sat now
in a mold half of resolution, half sub
mission. Yet her foot had lost little
of its sprightliness, and the sympathy
in her fine eyes seemed to have deep
ened with the years.
A moist but appetizing steam rose
from the vegetable pots on the range.
and when she threw back the iron
door to feed more coal the hot glow
from within danced in reflection along
the bright row of utensils hanging
from the wall, and even sought out
the brass plate on the cream separa-
tor at the far end of the big room.
Through the screen door came the mo-
notonously redundant clio
= clank of the windmill. and a
keen ear might have caught the light
splash Of water as 1t fell in the wood
en- horse troughs from the iron nozzle
OF the pump.
Mary stuck fork in a potato to as
certain IL the "bone" was all gone,
meanwhile shielding her face from the
steam with the pot lid held aloft in
an aproned hand. Having satisfied
herself that the meal was making sat
isfactory progress, she stepped to the
door and sent a quick look across the
fields. to where streak OF black
smoke was scrawled along the sky.
"Beulah," she called, turning to-
ward the interior part Of the house.
"Come, Beulah, set the table. They're
coming from the field"
In moment girl Of twenty, plain
ly attired in a neat calico dress, en-
tered the kitchen. She was fresh and
beautiful as her mother had been that
first summer in the sod house on the
bench. and something In her appear
ance suggested that with her mothers
beauty and fine senslbility she had In
herited the indomitable spirit which
had made John Harris one of the most
prosperous farmers In the district. She
moved In an easy, unconscious grace
OF self-reliance-a reliance that must
be Just little irritating to men OF
old-fashioned notions concerning wom-
ans dependence on the sterner sex
drew the long wooden table, with Its
covering of white oil cloth. into the
center Of the kitchen. and began plac-
ing the dishes in position.
The scraping of heavy boots on the
pillow share nailed TO the block at the
door, and John Harris, followed by
Allan and the hired man, Jim, walked
into the kitchen. The farmers frame
was heavier than in his younger days,
and his hair. too, was streaked with
gray, but every muscle in his great
body seemed TO bulge with strength.
His face was brown with the prairie
sun and wind of % summers, and
lines Of worry and care had cut their
tracings about the mouth and eyes.
Beside him stood Allan. his only son,
sIraightpr and lither OF figure. but al
most equally powerful. The younger
nan was indeed. replica Of the old
n AMI although they had their dis
grcemenfs. constant association had