Askov American. [volume] (Askov, Pine County, Minn.) 1914-current, 1926-07-29

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with music. But of Denise he said
little, except that she was well and
played necessarily. So much had hap
pened that the winter seemed unusual
~ long-was, In fact, bit on their
nerves, and the spring would be most
welcome. Some day, st. Onge suggest
ed, 1t might be possible for Steele to
revisit the valley Of the Wailing. He
knew the way and his friends there
would live for that day.
The other letter was shorter. 1t ran:
"Dear Monsieur Steele:
"A violin-and a Nicolo Amati!
Your generosity and your thought Of
me make these words but feel lie
things. You, to whom gratitude is dis
tasteful, must yet endure my heartfelt
thanks, not only for the rare gift, but
for the. journey you made for my peace
of mind through that terrible wind
and cold. The violin will ever be a
living memory of one who came, a
stranger, to two lonely and hopeless
creatures, and left them, facing the
future with courage.
Denise st. Onge."
IF only the letter had given him q
sign that she wanted him-needed
him, instead Of dwelling on her graft
tude. She was so proud and so brave.
If only he had taken her in his arms
that last night, and learned from her
eyes, the blood in her face, the beat of
her heart, whether she was paying
debt of honor or-loved him.
Then, late in May, came letter.
addressed by a hand unused to the
pen, and postmarked at Nepigon sta
ton on the Canadian Pacific. David
doubtless had news and some one had
written for him. Steele opened the
envelope and read with increasing
wonder and delight:
"Miseu Steele
'Iv you weesh mamsel you burn up
de trail to Wailing Reever queek. All
de long snow she have play an play
de sad museec an cry on her bed.
Wen we go on hill first tam she lift
her arm to de sout an say, Cum bak
to me. Dat mean you. You cum lax
de win. Michel tax dis to de railroad,
he an me get marry Wen meesnary
cum in june. Charlotte"
It was from the faithful Ojibway
woman who had for so long faithfully
served Denise.
That night the Montreal sleeper out
of New York carried a man whose
gray eyes were strangely happy. A
week later two friends were polling
the nose of a canoe into the spring
freshet of the Jackfish as If pursued
by a Windigo. Farther on they reck-
lessly ran in succession each white
water Of the swollen Rouge. Down
Ogoke, the measured churn-swis
churn-swish of lunging blades marked
off the miles to the outlet. Then rid
ing the flood water Of the racing Wall
ing, one afternoon the canoe slid into
the beach of the post.
In the trade-house Steele and David
found st. Onge and his head-man.
There were surprised greetings, then !:
II have come for her." announced the
American. "Where is sheY'
"She has gone to the ridge" an
swered st. Onge with shining eyes.
"You will find her with her violin
alone"
At the edge of the scrub, below the
bare brow Of the hill, Steele stopped,
with heart which Jared him with its
beat. He wanted to watch her-listen
to her playing-before making his
coming known. With shaking hand
he parted the spruce and looked.
Silhouetted against the soft May
sky, she stood with her violin, facing
from him. Presently she tilted her
head and drew the bow across the
strings. Family drifted down to him
| the haunting minors Of the "Elegie''
he first heard at the rapids-the sym
boil of her fears and despair.
Then, Of sudden, the far call of
Grant Canadas broke in on the strains
of the violin The girl stopped short
off and searched the sky for the wedge
of geese. Out Of the south she saw
them coming and opened her arms.
Then. as the violin changed its mood
broke into her own, when Spring
Comes North" he noiselessly ap-
preached her.
She finished, and as the last Of the
flock passed overhead, waved her bow
"Goodbyl goodby" she called, as
the wanderers faded into the north.
II have followed them back to you"
spoke a low voice behind her.
The girl turned startled eyes on the
man who stood smiling. Over her
throat and face up to the dusky hair
mounted the blood.
"You!" she faltered. Its not q
dream?"
81 have come back" he said, "for
your gratitude"
my gratitude?" She smiled through
mist-veiled eyes, as he stood beside
her. "You ask no morew And she
was in his arms, his face buried in the
raven hair.
Demise! Denise"
She raised her flaming face to his,
and there on the HILTON thew stood