The Bemidji daily pioneer. [volume] (Bemidji, Minn.) 1904-1971, 1922-04-05


lost ship for which the Drum had
beaten the roll Of the dead. Guilt was
in his thought now--racking, tearing
at him. But there vas something
more than that; what she had seen in
him when he first caught sight Of her
was fear-fear Of her, Of Constance
Sheriff.,
You came up here about Ben Cor
vet?" he challenged.
"Yes-no!" 80. -, D..
(Which do you .meanT' $3.50.
"No."
II know, then. For him. then-eh!
For him."
For Alan Conrad? Yes" she said.
II knew It." he repeated. "He's been
the trouble between you and me all
the timer
She made no denial of that; she had
begun to know during the, last two
days that it was so.
$50 you came to find him?" Henry
went on.
Hell be found I" she defied him.
BE found?"
"Some are dead" she admitted, ''but
not all. Twenty are dead; but seven
are not"
"Seven?" he echoed. "You say
seven are not! How do you know"
'"The Drum has been beating for
twenty, but not for more" Constance
said. "The Drum you've been listen
ing to all day upon the beach-the III
dian Drum that sounded for the dead
! Of the Miwaka; sounded, one by one,
for all who died! But it didn't sound
, for him It's been sounding again, you
know but, again, it doesn't sound for
him, Henry, not for him." $780,.
"The Miwaka! What do you mean
by that? What's that got to- do with
this?" His swollen face was thrust
forward at her; there was. threat
against her in his tense muscles and
| his blOOdshot eyes.
She did not, shrink back from him,
| or move and now he was not waiting
for her answer. Something's sound
| had caught him about. Once 1t
echoed, low in its reverheration but
| penetrating and quite distinct. It
| came, so far as direction could be as
, signed to it, from the trees toward the
shore; but it was like no forest sound.
Distinct, too, was it from any noise Of
the lake. 1t was like Drum! Yet,
when the echo had gone, 1t was SEN
sation easy to deny-a hallucination,
that was all. But now, low and distinct
1t came again; and, as before, Con.
stance saw it catch Henry and hold
him. His. lips moved, but he did: not
speak; he was counting. "Two," she
saw his lips form.
| The sound Of the Drum was cOntinu.
Ing, the beats Il few seconds apart
Twelve" Constance counted to her.
self. The beats had seemed to be
. quite measured and regular at first
but now Constance knew that this was
only roughly true; they beat rather in
rhythm than at regular Intervals.
'Twenty-twenty-one - twenty-five"
Constance caught breath and waited
for the next heat: the tins ot the ih-
aterval between the measures Of the
rhythm passed, and .xstillY only the
whistle Of the wind and the underlying
OF water sounded. The Drum had
beatensits ron sald, for sthe moment,
was done. & a. ! : u - = sia Sss
Twenty-Five had been her count, as
nearly as she ouldEtcodnt at all; the
reckoning agreed with;whatitiie tIndiah
woman had heard. Two had died,
then. since the Drum last had beat,
when its roll was twenty. Two more
than before that meant five were left
Constance caught up her WOODEN
hood from the table and put it on. Her
action seemed to call Henry to him
self - -. -
"What are you going to dor he de-
mantletl. ~, s;. 81
I'm going OUT s. 1870. =. -, y =.
He moved between her and the door.