The citizen., 1920-11-11

through the courtesy OF the storekeep-
or At Plalnville. who was also post
master and who had stretched the
law 10 the point Of accepting hen eggs
ms legal tender In exchange for post
age stamps. that Mary Harris had
been able to keep up the brave, opti-
mistic series of letters written home
So Harris decided that he would nj
once market some ~ his wheat. Most
" the oats would he needed for his
horses and for seed. and what re-
malned would command good prices
from new settlers the following spring.
but some Of the wheat must he turned
into money NJ once. During the lat
ter part Of the summer they had lived
exclusively on the produce Of their
farm; on vegetables from the garden,
Ash and ducks from the stream. pral-
rie chickens. and an occasional rab-
bit from the fields. The wild geese had
deserted them early In the spring, and
returned only after harvest. But now
they should have change on their
table. Mary had accepted the pioneer
fare of the summer without complaint.
but Of late Harris had discovered a
strange longing In her eyes. and more
than once she had arrested herself in
the words II wish we had" Then
two penitent little tears would steal
softly down her cheeks. and she would
bury her head I'm his arms as he
soothed her with loving words and
promised that "after thrashing things
would be different"
SO now he set out for Emerson with
the best load his horses could draw.
The first few miles he drove In silence.
for there was n heavy weight al his
heart as he thought OF the little wife
alone with the responsibilities OF the
farm. That she would be faith
full to every responsibility he knew
beyond question. . But he was
not quite satisfied. A strange moodi-
ness had come over her. and even with
him al home she had at times given
way 10 fits OF downheartedness which
seemeu hliostih'i dlth W h'i h"'u'''
Ten days later he retraced his
course In the teeth OF binding bliz-
zard dozen times he had been lost
In the last as hours, hut he had devel-
oped the prairie dweller's sense OF d.
rection. and had always been able
again to locate the trail. The Ar
thurs would have detained him, al
most by force, but the thought OF a
pale. patient face, wrung with an ag-
ony OF anxiety not for itself. made him
adamant In his resolve TO go home al
whatever cost. The roads were almost
impossible; he left his lumber AT Ar
thurs. hut carried with him his win
dow. a few boards for a door. and a
little bundle of dry goods. Everything
else had gone by the way surrendered
In exchange for food and shelter for
himself and horses.
II was not dreadfully cold. but the
sky seemed only n vast turmoil or
snow. Darkness came down very ear
ly, but AT last Harris began TO recog-
nize familiar landmarks close by the
in he drew into the partial shelter OF
the bench on the bank Of the coulee.
The horses pulled on their reins per
sistentiy for the stable, but Harris
forced them up TO the house. His
loud shout was whipped away by the
wind and strangled in a moment so
he climbed stifTly from the wagon and
pulled with numbed hands at the
double thickness of carpet that did
service for door. He fancied he
heard a sound. hut could be sure OF
nothing; he called her name again
and again. but could distinguish no
answer. But at last the fastenings
which help the carpet gave way, and
he half walked, half fell. into the
house.
The lantern burned dimly. but II
was not at the lantern he looked. In
the farthest corner. scarcely visible In