The Carbon County news. [volume] (Red Lodge, Mont.) 1924-1931, 1925-01-29

Coming back from ot. Augustine
Jurtiss Wright was strangely quiet.
Several times l tried to break in upon
his meditation, but he answered me in
monosyllables and / knew his thoughts
were distant.
Before alighting from the car he
surned to me and said slowly: ave
been thinking, Sallie, that it would be
better for me to clear out until your
father has completely recovered and
work on the settlement can be fin
ished."
/ said nothing.
walter Hull and his wife have in
vited me on hunt at their lodge near
Orlando he continued. 81 hadn't
thought of accepting, but -"
Anything NOW is better than be-
ing my guest, is that the idea?" |
interrupted.
1T isn't quite fair of you to say
that and under the circumstances /
believe you understand why am leav-
ing"
Il don't understand anything" |
pouted. Il suppose Anne Coddlington
viii be accompanying you on this sort
Of party-in-the-woods arrange
ment.n
Il haven't asked her, but they told
me to bring some girl along with me,
and if you really think that she'd en-
joy it, perhaps l shall pass on to her
the invitation"
| was furious and a rising sense
of loneliness crept over my whole
being.
He must have felt my unhappiness,
for he reached over and took both my
hands in his. saying very gently:
II know you don't want to go,
sallie. IT'S going to be rough--the
worse kind. There'll be no hot water
nor any sort of fiuffy-ruffes. Just
simple and wholesome, not even drop
of liquor"
ooh, but I'd love and adore it. I'm
100000 tired and sick of everything
and everybody. Please, please take
me with you" The words came in
pleading cadence, swiftly tumbling one
after the other.
What" he exclaimed, 'the most
sought-after belle in the South beg
ging to go on camping party? A
girl with more scalps at her slender
waist-line than a Princess, wanting
to go and leave all the suitors and gay
times for a whole week where you'll
have to live the sweet and simple 7"
But Pm wild about shootingl" |
lied glibly, not daring TO tell him that
my only experience had been with clay
pigeons at State Fair shooting gal
larry. But right then and there / de-
termined to show Curtiss Wright /
was as good sportsman as Anne
Coddington--if it killed me.
All was idleness within the camp
that morning. Men and women sat in
little groups together, chatting and
smoking. There was a spirit Of sat
isfaction in the air that was con-
tAgious. The morning needed no set
plans to mar its perfection Of freedom.
In the open spaces the sunlight was a
gIistening veil that caressed the
green grasses and semi-tropical fol-
Iiage, and, not satisfied with the ca
ress, lowered in waves that were
poised and restless.
The shaded places were mossdraped
vistss. bowers with dspples of gold
dancing on the carpet Of shadows, as
the leaves above were lifted and bouy-
ed by breeze that was wine-like in
| its lznguor, yet zestfui in its exhilara-
ton.
0uTLlSS S&t atuhSf NVVutAks AhSh
he left his place, returning quickly
with q rife. He entered the slightly
observable path and knew he was
on his way to the little stream where
he had gone every morning while the
others waited for the dogs arrival.
I followed. The grass swishing
about his ankles prevented him from
hearing my footsteps.
| saw him stop at giant oak and
saw his gaze fix itself on some
feathers across the tiny stream. Pity
claimed him. He was seeing again
the sylvan tragedy Of the day before.
The hawks swift swoop, the struggle
of the wood thrush ~..- it's song
strangled by the clawing talons, the
majestic sweep Of the bird Of prey as
BIO lifted his inert victim to the high
ranches. He saw no more. He had
urned away from the rest.
Yes. There were the feathers: the
hawk might come again today. He had
an unobstructed view of the high
perch, unoccupied.