The Brookings register. [volume] (Brookings, Brookings County, S.D.) 1903-1971, 1922-12-28
CHAPTER w

The train came to n sliding halt
at Deer Creek, paused an infniteslmal
fraction of a second, and rOared on In
its ceaseless journey. That infinitesi-
NAL fraction was long enough for
Bruce, poised on the bottom step OF a
sleeping car, to swing down on to the
gravel right-of-way. His bag, hurled
by a sleepy porter, followed him.
Duncan's next impression was n
of infinite solitude. He hadn't read
any gu~ldebooks about Deer Creek, and
he had expected some sort of town.
But here was one little wooden struc-
ture with only three sldes,-the open
ing facing the track. 1t was evidently
. the waiting room used by the noun
tain men as they waited for their
local trains.
There were no porters to carry his
bag. There were no shouting officials.
His only companions were the stars
and the moon ana, farther w the
slope, certain tall trees that tapered
to incredible points almost In the re-
gion where the stars began.
Inc WHOle S'tlle, tOT causes Keeper
than any words may ever seek and re-
veal, moved him past any experience
In his life. 1t was wholly new.
He turned about until the wind was
In his face. 1t was full Of ~fragrances,-
strange, indescribable smells that
seemed to call up q forgotten world.
They carried a message to him, but as
x0A lA I,l-ta .aln ..A A..
He only knew 1t was something mys-
terious and profound: great truths
that fiickered, like dim lights, In his
consciousness, but whose outline he
could not quite discern.
Perhaps there were sounds, but they
only seemed part of the silence. The
faintest rustic In the world reached
him from the forests above of many
little winds playing a running game
between the trunks, and the stir of
the Little People, moving In their mid
night occupations. Each Of these
sounds had its message for Bruce.
They all seemed to be trying to tell
him something, to make clear some
great truth that was dawnlng In his
consciousness.
He was not In the least afraid. He
felt at peace as never before. He
picked up his bag, and with stealing
steps approached t.e long slope be-
hind. The moon showed him a fallen
log, and he found a comfortable seat
on the ground beside 1t, his back
nnnfpcf tNr Ea-y, nl@- h. ,atta Go.
the dawn to come out.
The night hours passed. The sense
OF peace seemed to deepen on the man.
He sat relaxed, his brown face grave,
his eyes lifted. The stars began to
dim and draw back farther into the
line Of the moon seemed less pro-
nounced. And a faint ribbon of light
began to grow In the east.
1t widened. The light grew. The
night wind played one more little
game between the tree trunks and
slipped away to the Home Of Winds
that lies somewhere above the moun
tains. The little night sounds were
slowly stilled.
Bruce closed his eyes, not knowing
why. His blood was leaping In his
veins. An unfamiliar excitement, al
most an %exultation. had come upon
him. He lowered his head nearly to
his hands that rested In his lap, then
waited a full five minutes more.
Then he opened his eyes. The
light had grown around him. His
hands were quite plain. Slowly, as
q man raises his eyes to a miracle,
he lifted his face.
The forest was no longer obscured
In darkness. The great trees had
emerged, and only the dusk as Of
twilight was left between. He saw
them plainly.-their symmetrical
forms, their declining limbs, their tall
tops piercing the sky. He saw them
as they ~were,-those ancient, eternal
symbols and watchmen Of the wilder.
ness. And he knew them at last, &C.
Quaintances long forgotten but re-
membered now.
'The pines!" he cried. He leaped
to his feet with flashing eyes. ."
have come back to the pinesl'