The Coolidge examiner., 1931-07-24

| noticeable difference in the younger
| generation. Up and down the long
table they ranged, sons and daugh-
terS. sOns-in-law and daughters-in-
| law; grandchildren remOter kin
such as visiting nieces and nephews
! and cousins, OffShOotS of this far
flung family. AS the more northern
bred members of the company ex-
! claimed at the tale they now were
| hearing you noted that their vOwels
were shorter. their diction more
| clipped. the turn of the head, the
! lift of the hand less leiSurely. In
all those faces there was a resem-
! blance, one to the other. Perhaps
the listening look which all of them
now wore served to accentuate this.
Yancey Cravat was talking. He
| had been talking for the better part
of an hour. This very morning he
had returned from the Oklahoma
] country-the newly opened Indian
territory where he had made the
| Run that marked the settling of
this vast tract of virgin land known
| collOquially as the Nation. Now, as
he talked, the faces of the others
had the rapt look of those who lis
ten to saga.
The men leaned forward. their
hands clasped rather loosely be-
tween their knees or on the cloth
before them, their plates pushed
away, their chairs showed back.
Now and then the sudden white
ridge of a hard-set muscle showed
along the line of a masculine jaw.
| Their eyes were those of men who
| follow a game in which they would
fain take part Sometimes a wom-
ans hand reached out possessively,
remindingly. and was laid on the
arm or the hand of the man seated
beside her. Il am here" the hands
pressure said. Your place is with
me. Don't listen to him like that.
Don't believe him. | am your wife.
! l am safety. / am security. l am
| comfort. | am habit. | am cOnven-
ton. Don't listen like that. Don't
look like that"
But the man would shake off the
hand, not roughly, but with absent
minded resentment.
OF all that circlet of faces. linked
by the enchantment of the tale now
being unfOlded before them. there
stood out lambent as a flame the
face of Sabra CFavat as she sat
there at table, her child Gin in her
lap. Though she, like her mother
Felice Venable, was definitely of
the olive-skinned type. her face
seemed luminOusly white as she lis
tened to the amazing, incredible,
and slightly ridiculous story now
being unfolded by her husband. 1t
was plain. too. that in her, as in
her mother, the strain of the pio-
neering French Marcys, her ances-
tors, was strong. Her abundant
hair was as black. and her eyes;
and the strong brows arched with
a swooping curve like the twin
scimitars that hung above the fire
place in the company room. There
was something more New England
than southern in the directness of
her glance. the quick turn of her
head. the briskness of her speech
and manner. Twenty-One now, mar
ried ar sixteen, mother of a four
year-Old boy. and still in love with
her picturesque giant of a husband.
there was about Sabra Cravat
bloom. a glow, sometimes seen at
that exquisite and transitory time
in a wOman's life when her chemi-
cal. emotional. and physical make
up attains its highest point and
fuses
Lewis Venable, in his armchair
at the head of the table. was spell
bound. Curiously enough. even the
boy Gin had listened. or seemed to
listen. as he ST in his mothers lap.
Perhaps it was the curiously musi-
cal qualities of the StOry-teIler's
voice that lulled him. Sabra Ven
able's disgruntled suitors had said
when she married Yancey Cravat.
a stranger. mysterious, out of Texas
and the cimarrOn. that it was his
voice that had bewitched her. They
were in a measure right. for though
Yancey Cravat was verbose, fire.
uuently even windy. and though
much that he said was dry enough
in actual content, he had those
priceless gifts of the born orator.
a vibrant and flexible voice. great
sweetness and charm of manner, a
hypnotic eye, and the power of
making each listener feel that
what was being said was intended
for his ear alone. Something of
the charlatan was in him, much of
the actor. a dash of the fanatic.
No room seemed big enough for
his gigantic frame; no chair but
dwindled beneath the breadth of his
shoulders. He seemed actually to
loom more than his six feet two.
His black locks he wore overlong,
so that they curled a little about
his neck in the manner of Booth.
His cheeks and forehead were, in
places. deeply pitted. as with the
pOx. Women. perversely enough.
found that attractive.
HIS mouth. full and sensual. had
still an expression of great sweet
ness. His eyelashes were long and
curling. like a beautiful girls, and
when he raised his heavy head TO
look at you. beneath the long black
locks and the dark lashes you saw
with something of bewilderment
that his eyes were deep and un-
fathOmable ocean gray
Now in tho courSa of his story