Eagle River review. [volume] (Eagle River, Wis.) 1890-1927, 1920-12-03


ut would set you coughing to climb
the slope"
The woman dropped her eyes. After
all, weakness is not pleasant fact to
face. The loss Of power, the inability
to do accustomed things, always
comes as a shock. Life had brought
to the Iron-Gray- Woman little enough
-pitifully little enough. But though
life be ever so bare and gray, no one
likes to sit helpless and watch 1t go.
HAPPY the young man sensed moth
ing of this, but was already busy
gathering together such Of their
meager stock Of household goods as it
would be absolutely necessary to
carry up to the cabin under the cliff
il the coming night was to be spent
ashore.
Nothing remained but the actual
going ashore. His mother came FIRST
as he had said. While packing, he
had planned to help her up the hill to
the spring and leave her there while
he swept the old cabin, aired it out,
put up the cook stove, and otherwise
made the place as sweet and inviting
as possible for her occupancy.
Just before passing through the
rumpled curtain of the houseboat she
stopped and gazed over the tiny cabin.
"Just one. look before ] CO." she
said.
He was astonished at the wistful-
ness in her tones.
''Why, mother, you can come back
ANY minute"
ut has been my home for twenty
years." she said as she turned away
her tone more the voicing of refec-
ton than the statement Of fact.
Across the gangplank and up the
slope among the trees he led her
carried herewith all the tenderness
due from a man to his mother; for
the Iron Gray-Woman had the man
ners and speech Of LADY Of high
degree" and she had taught him all
she knew. He had brought along a
cushion, which he spread for her upon
d upholstered rock. With the
spray Of the waterfall in the air, with
the cup in her hand, the cool spring
within reach, he left her and hurried
back to the houseboat.
The sun was dipping low toward
the distant bend in the river when
the last Of the moving was done. A
purple twilight had given place to
dark before he had the cabin put to
rights, his mother in her easy chair,
and supper on the table: bass, taken
from the nets only that morning;
fruit from the woods: baked pota-
toes; toast, crisp and brown; and tea,
which she had left her chair long
enough to draw.
In the contented silence that often
falls after the evening meal, the man
sat covertly studying her face. The
fever had gone. 1t was a face almost
serene She appeared, as he watched
her, to be listening to the sound OF
the waterfall floating In through the
open window upon the pulse Of the
night. The move had done her good.
He thought how beautiful she must
have been-how beautiful still.
back to him-the only word that had
ever come to him out Of the past. The
desire to learn more grew in him, and
vet he dreaded to speak. The Iron
Gray-Woman was not one to invite
condolences. And yet man ought to
know something Of the manner Of his
coming into the world.
The cabin had settled to deep quiet; ;
the lap Of the waterfall had swelled
to full strength upon the silence
when the cabin door banged open and
man stormed in. The Pearlhunter
whirled up out Of his chair and faced
him.
The intruder was man of forty,
possibly more, lacking somewhat of
the Pearlhunter's height and massive
build. vet still what would be called
big man-tight and well set up
smooth shaver, except for an aggres-
sive mustache family shot with gray.
He wore a SLOUGH hat, top boots, frock
coat, and very fancy and much-be-
lowered vest. His blue eyes-the
kind Of blue that turns black when
roused-had an uncomfortable knack
Of seeming to see everything in sight.
They were just now fitting furtively,
bit contemptuously, over the tall fig
ure of the young man facing him.
"You're the fellow they call the
Pearlhunter.?"
The gray eyes Of the man addressed
were blazing; his fingers manifesting
an almost uncomfortable inclination
to tuck themselves into his palms !;
but he held himself and answered
civilly:
"They do call me that"
what are you doing in this cabin?"
"1s it yours?"
mo difference whether it is or
whether it isn't. It's no place for river
scum to wash ashore"
A stranger ought to be pretty sure
Of himself before he says a thing like
that, especially when he says 1t the
way the Man-in-the-Fanc said
it. He didn't know the Pearlhunter
not as the river men knew him-or
he would have considered long time
first. Almost any river man along the
Wabash could have told him that
things would happen. Things did
happen. Still, it probably would have
been just the same anyhow. A wildcat
couldn't have lodged the toil-calloused