The Ordway new era., 1922-07-21

| paper mad not been In water OF III
sand. The paper was written in pen
| ell 1t had not even been moistened or
1t would have blurred. There was
nothing upon 1t to tell how long ago
1t had been written; but it had been
written certainly before June -
After June H." It said.
That day was August the eighteenth.
1t was seven months since Uncle
Benny had gone away. After his
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 muffler
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
ly 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
lnterspersed with hardwood on 'the
Point" where were the great fine sum
mer homes of the wealthier ere
sorters"
This was Uncle Benny's country.
Here, twenty-five years before, he had
first met Henry, whose birthplace-a
farm. deserted nOw-was only few
miles back among the hills. Here,
before that, Uncle Benny had been
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, 1t had been to her a region
of delight-was due to him and to the
things he had told her about it. 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
20 bA Ial
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 sawmilIs. 1t |
was he who had told her the names
of the freighters passing far out, and |
the names Of the lighthouses. and |
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 "Way 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 |
70 her through the window the Indian
way of Dogs" among the constella-
tions, by which the dogs too could |
make that journey. 1t was he who
had told her about Michabou and the
animals; and he had been the first
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 him?
Word had reached her father
through shipping circles in May and
again in July which told of inquiries
regarding Uncle Benny which made
her and her father believe that Alan
was searching for his father upon the
lakes. Now these articles which had
arrived made plain to her that he
would never find Uncle Benny; he
would learn, through others or through
that Uncle Benny was
dead. Would he believe then that
there was no longer any chance of
learning what his father had done?
Would he remain away because of
that, not letting her see or hear from
him again?
She went back and picked up the
Wedding ring. The thought which had
.ome to her that this was Alan's moth
.r's wedding ring. had fastened itself
lpon her with sense of certainty. 1t
defended that unknown mother; it
reed her, at least, from the stigma
which Constance's own mother had
,een so ready to cast. Constance could
lot yet begin to place Uncle Benny
n relation to that ring; but she was
BEGINNING to be able to think of Alan