The St. Charles herald., 1922-07-15

paper had not been in water or IN
sand. The paper was written In pen
ell: it had not even been moistened or
it would have blurred. There was
nothing upon it to tell how long ago
it had been written: but 1t had been
written certainly before June II.
AFTER June 12." it said.
That day was August the eighteenth.
It was seven months since Uncle
Benny had gone away. After MS
strange interview with her that day
and his going home. had Uncle Benny
gone out directly to his death? There
was nothing to show that he had not;
the watch and coins must have lain
for many weeks, for months. In water
and in sand to become eroded In this
way. But, aside from this, there was
nothing that could be inferred regard
ing the time or place Of Uncle Benny's
death. That the package had been
mailed from Manitowoc meant nothing
definite. Some one-Constance could
not know whom-had had the muftler
and the scrawled leaf of directions;
later, after lying In water and in sand,
the things which were to be sent
had come to that some ones hand.
! Most probably this some one had been
one who was going about on ships;
when his ship had touched at Mani
towoc, he had executed his charge.
Constance left the articles upon the
bed and threw the window more wide
Iy open. She trembled and felt stirred
and faint, as she leaned against the
window, breathing deeply the warm
air. full Of life and with the scent
of the evergreen trees about the
house,
| The "cottage" of some twenty rooms
stood among the pines and hemlocks
interspersed with hardwood on "the
Point" where were the great fine sum-
| mer homes Of the wealthier re
sorters."
This was Uncle Benny's country.
Here, twenty-five years before, he had
first met Henry, whose birthplace
farm. deserted now-was only few
miles back among the hills. Here,
before that, Uncle Benny had been a
young man, active. vigorous, ambitious.
He had loved this country for Itself
and for its traditions, its Indian
legends and fantastic stories. Half
her own love for it-and, since her
childhood, It had been to her a region
of delight-was due to him and t" the
things he had told her about 1t. Dis
tinct and definite memories Of that
companionship came to her. This lit
tie bay. which had become now for
the most part only summer play
ground for such as she, had been once
a place where he and other men had
struggled to grow rich swiftly; he
had outlined for her the ruined lumber
docks and pointed out to her the loca-
tions Of the dismantled sawmills. 1t
was he who had told her the names
Of the freighters passing far out, and
the names Of the lighthouses. and
something about each. He had told
her, too, about the Indians. She re-
membered one starry night when he
had pointed out to her in the sky the
Indian sway Of Ghosts" the Milky
way, along which, by ancient Indian
belief. the souls Of Indians Travelled
up to heaven; and how, later, lying
on the recessed seat beside the fire
place where she could touch the dogs
upon the hearth. he had pointed out
to her through the window the Indian
"Way Of Dogs" among the constella'
tions. by which the dogs too could
i. make that Journey. It was he wht
had told her about Michabou and the
animals; and he had been the frs,
to tell her Of the Drum.
The disgrace, unhappiness, the threat
Of something worse, which must have
made death a relief to- Uncle Benny
she had seen passed on now to Alan
What more had come to Alan since
she had last heard OF himf
Word had reached her father
through shipping circles in May and
again in July which told Of inquire.
regarding Uncle Benny which made
her and her father believe that Alar
was searching for his father upon th'
lakes. Now these articles which hat
arrived made plain to her that h
would never find Uncle Benny; h
would learn, through others or through
themselves, that Uncle Benny wa
dead. Would he believe then tina
there was no longer any chance o
& learning what his father had done
Would ne remain away because 0
that, not letting her see or hear from
him again?
She went back and picked up tn
wedding ring. The thought which ha'
come to her that this was Alan's moth
er's wedding ring. had fastened itsei
upon her with sense of certainty.
defended that unknown mother;
freed her. at least, from, the stigm
which Constance's own mother ha
been so ready to cast. Constance coul
4 not vet begin to place Uncle Benn
lin relation to that ring: but she wa
beginning to be able to think OF Ala
J. and his mother. She held the llttl
band Of gold very tenderly In he
i hand. she was glad that as the AZ