The Little River news., 1920-12-08
I. G.iesirv- f cHAPrM M.
A Man Without . Name.


 The Pearlhunter sat on the door step of the cabin. his face bowed in his hands. It was June upon the slope under the trees; June in Wolf Run chuclkling and chirkins along on it's way from spring and waterfall to the river; June in the heart of 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 mound Of fresh shells brought up from the river !; upon the head had planted 8 cluster of orchids, the lady's-slipper of the F1atwoods. 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 pondering 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 so long in exile because of word that had, mayhap, been long repented. The muck and grime of the river had never smudged her. Through 1t all she had kept as pure, as white. as a flake of snow--and as cold.
 "What air y'u calclatin' t do with them wild roses here in tn tumbler in the winder-keep 'em r chuck 'em out? cayn't find but one more tumbler."
 The voice of the old Boss half startled the man on the doorstep. The gruff old fellow had never left him. 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, pink. white-in a tumbler of water in the window The vision the Pearlhunter had seen on the rock at the pool came again. A vlsion-it had been just that. only that; an exquisite picture flashed be- fore his face and instantly snatched away-a picture he would never see again. It seemed unreal as he looked back upon 1t in the light of another day. But no. there were the roses. He bent his; face down and caught the aroma of their breath. ,a,,r ,..i G.. -Let them be" l" he said. 'They will last another day. '5' .'s s'"-4.i : ''''1 The Boss made no reply. To' him ths4 were merely faded roses. He Mas sitting on: :ti,ss doorstep about tb light hispipe when theIyounserl man called hiIk With the freshly filled, pipe in ons hand, ;tha nnlighted match in the otler, be- Fose ia.pl and AtepPed haek, 9t Into tha3 cabin. Tfo Pearihunter was standing before . small hair-covered trunk. scdfc96 Digger than an %oftii- nary stdtedsa efathe present day. It stoad open. with the lid thrown back. exactly as 1t had stood two nights be, fore when he came up from the river and found his mother dying. Its con tents seemed to indicate that they had been rummaged through by some one whose haste had been great-dOubt- less by his mother. It hurt him to re- call the cause of that haste. The bloodstained glove she bad 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?"
 "I've 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 went 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 time-stained and mildewed article
 "West Point" he muttered. "Hit's th' Kind them sprigs wears-officer's. I'd say, offhand."
 The other stQod considering it; laid it aside; and lifted the next article from the trunk. It proved to be a woman's dress of rich brocade. Little as the two men knew of such matters. 1t impressed even them as being of the very finest material and of fin ished workmanship. Under it lay other articles of woman's wear, all equally rich, though now yellow with the stain of time. Down beneath
 Tsagb aG S0 as@s %tg everything else lay small box whici. the Boss, from an experience which befell him as a soldier in the far South, knew to be satinwood.
 The young man, stood with 1t in his hand, afraid to raise the lid-afraid to put 1t to the test. So far. the trunk had given up nothing. He was still nameless What if this, too, should