Mountain Home Republican. [volume] (Mountain Home, Idaho) 1915-1946, 1922-07-08

paper hdu uOt UteIi iu WdteI vi ~
sand. The paper was written In pen
ell; 1t had not even been moistened OF
II would have blurred. There was
nothing upon It to tell how long age
1t had been written: built had been
written certainly before June II
After June r." II 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 death1 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 Mnnitowoc meant nothing
not know whom-had had the muller
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 trembed 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
interpreted with hardwood on '.the
Point" where were the great fine sum
mer homes of the weather. ''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
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 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 sawmllls. II
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 "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
10 her through the window the Indian
"Way Of Dogs" among the constella
tions, by which the dogs too could
make that journey. II was he who
had told her about Mlchabou 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 himl
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
themselves, that Uncle Benny was
dead. Would he believe then that
there was no longer any chance of
learning what his father had done?
Would re 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
come to her that this was Alan's moth
er's wedding ring. had fastened itself
upon her with sense of certainty. 1t
defended thar unknown mother; II
freed her. at least. from. the stigma
which Constance's own mother had
been so ready to cast. Constance could
not yet begin TO place Uncle Benny
in relation TO that ring; but she was
beginning to be able to think of Alan
and his mother. She held the little
band Of gold very tenderly In her
hand: she was glad that, as the ac-