HomeMy WebLinkAboutThe Wingham Times, 1916-04-27, Page 7April loth, 1916
THE WINGHAM TIMES
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the
HONOR of THE BIG SNOW
By
giffM
JAMES OLIVER. CUR' O
Copyright 1911 by the Bobbs-Merrill C
us"c�isnvs
PROLOGUE.
t Up in the "Big Snows," near
•the dome of the earth, lies the
scene of this story of real men
and real women, who have all of
the virtues of their hardening en-
ivironment and few of the failings
of their more civilized relatives.
This is a tale for reading when
ons is tired of the artificialities
.of civilization—or at any other
time when a good .story is appre-
ciated. You will find in it ro-
mance and adventure and mystery
mixed in such skillful manner and
in such proportion that no ingre-
dient interferes with another. Yei
all go to make fine reading for
women who like to hear of brave
deeds and sacrifice for love's
Bake and for !men with even a
drop -of the spirit of adventure
lin their veins. And one thing
more—the author has lived among
.the people whose lives he de.
scribes, and he knows how to tell
u story.
CHAPTER 1.
The Music.
LI
•0e STEN, John. `1 hear music!"
Tho words came in a gentle
whisper from , the woman's
lips. One white, thin hand
lifted itself weakly to the rough face
'of the man who was kneeling beside
ber bed, and the great dark eyes from
;which he had bidden his own grew
luminously bright for a moment as she
!whispered again:
"John. 1 hear music•!"
A sigh fluttered tram her lips. The
roan's bead drooped until It rested very
near to her bosom. He felt the quiver
AA her band against his cheek, and in
its touch there was something which
told John Cummins that the end of all
life bad come for him and tor her in
this world of snow and ice and for-
est very near to the dome of the earth.
His heart beat fiercely, and his great
:shoulders shook with the agony that
;was eating at his souL
"Yes, it is the pretty music, my Me-
lisse." he murmured softly, choking
back his sobs. "]t is the pretty music
in the skies."
The band pressed more tightly
-against his face.
"It's not the music in the skies, John.
It is real—real music that 1 hear."
"It's the sky tousle, my sweet Me-
lisse. Shall 1 open tbe door so that
eve can hear it better?"
When lie looked again at the wo-
man her eyes were open, and there
;glowed in them still the feeble 8re of
-a great love. Her lips, too, pleaded
With him in their old: sweet way,
(which always meant that he was to
:kiss them and stroke her hair and tell
,ber again that she was the most beau.
tiful thing in the whole world.
"My Melissel"
He crushed his face to her, his sob-
t.bing breath smothering itself in the
quilt masses of her hair, while her arms
rose weakly and fell around his neck.
Be heard the quick, gasping struggle
'for breath within her bosom. and,
-faintly again, the words:
• 1 t—is—the—music—of—my—people!"
"It is the music of the angels In the
skies, my sweet Melisse. It is our mu -
etc. I will open the door."
The arms had slipped from his
=shoulders. Gently he ran his rough
.lingers through the loose glory of the
woman's Bair and stroked her face as
,tsoftly as he might have caressed the
.cheek of..g st ee its. child
..i cvu
t -lis un„.
ns he me.
torr, Jieiisse."
reet made no sound
1)55 the little room
which was home. At the door
hr+ paused ann t-'oned. Then he open
ed It. and the tie,,ds of the white night
poured in upon Mtn as he stood with
his eyes turned to where the cold, pale
flashes of the aurora were playing
over the pole
it was an nour past midnight at the
post. which had the barred lands at
its hack door It was the hour of deep
'slumber for Its people. But tonight
there was no sleep for any of them.
lights burned dimly in the few rough
log tomes. The company's store was
aglow, and the factor's ot]iee, n haven
of the men of the wilderness. shot one
gleaming yellow eye out Into the white
gionm. The post was awake It was
waiting. It was Listening It was
watching.
As the woman's door opened, wide
and brimful of light. a door of one of
the log houses opened and then anoth•
er, and out Into the night, like dim
shadows, trod the moccasined men
from the factor's office and stood
there wrt ting for the word of life or
death frem John Cummins In their
own fashion these men, who without
knowing It lived very near to the
ways of God, sent mute prayers into
the starry heavens that the most beam
aril thing in the world might yet be
spared to them.
it was just two summers before that
this benntifnl thing had come into
Cummins' life and into tbe life of the
post. Cummins, red beaded. lithe as a
eat. big sonied as the eternal moun-
tain of the Crees and the beat of the
•
csammeme
#lad Dyspepsia.
Says: HE NEARLY TURNED
UP HIS TOES.
'Burdock Blood Bitters
CURED HU&
Mr. H. N. Manderson, Stettler, Alta.,
-writer . ,"Abottt'tseenty-fiver years ago,
in the Proeineee of. Quebec, I tame pretty
-hear turning up my toes with. dyspepsia.
A cousin of mine persuaded me td try
Burdock Blood Bitters,. In about two
weeks I could eat anything from raw fat
pork to unleavened bretid. Three bottice
did the job, and I have . never" been
troubled with my stomach since. You
would say that this is wonderful if you
-could only see whet wet sometimes have
to live on in this country; bannoek, halt
,cooked•beans, etc."
Burdock B1bbd Bitters Itas been eh
company's hunters, had brought 1f 1e•
lisse thither as his bride. Seventeen
rough hearts bad welcomed her. They
had assembled about that little cabin
In which the light was shining now,
speechless in their adoration of this
woman who had come among them,
their caps in their bands, their faces
shining, their eyes shifting before the
glorious ones that looked at them and
smiled at them as the woman shook
their hands, one by one.
Perhaps she was not strictly beautt
ful as most people judge, but she was
beautiful here, 400 miles beyond civ.
ilization. Mukee, the half Cree, had
never seen a white woman, for even
the factor's wife was part Chippeway
an, and no one of the others went
down to the edge of the southern wile
derness more than once each twelve
month or so.
The girl—she was scarce more than
budding into womanhood—fell. happily
into tbe ways of her new life. She did
nothing that was elementally unusual,
nothing more than any pure woman
reared in the love of God and of a
Nome would have done. In her spare
hours she began to teach the half doze
en, wild little children about the post,
and every Sunday she told them won•
derful stories out of the Bible. She
ministered to the sick, for that was a
part of her code of life. Everywhere
she carried her glad smile, her cheery
greeting, her wistful earnestness, to
brighten what seemed to her the sad
and lonely lives of these silent men o1
the north,
And she succeeded. not because she
was unlike other millions of her kind!
but because of the difference between
the fortieth degree and the sixtieth.
the difference In the viewpoint of men
who fought themselves into moral
shreds in the big game of life and those
who lived n thousand miles nearer tc
the dome of the earth.
A few days before there had come a
wonderful event in the history of the
company'•- post A. new.11fe.was bore
Into the little cabin of Cummins and
his wife. Then bnd come the sudden
change. and the gloom, that brought
with it the shadow of death, fell like
a pall upon the post, stifling, it's life
and bringing with It a grief that those
who lived there bed 'never' known be
. fore.
There came to them no word from
Cummins now. HO stood for a mo
.meat before hit lighted door and thee
went back, and the word passed soft13
from one to another that the most
beautiful. 'thing in the world was still
living her sweet life in that little cabin
at the end' et the clearing.,
"You hear the music' in the skies
now, my Waiter Wbiapared thesman
kneeltng beside ber again: "It in ver3
pretty tonight!"
"It was not that;". repeated the wog
man.
Stix attempted to stroke his e facts
but. Clemna3nisuer nothing of the eh.:
fort. for dui bend 1uf"alt but motion.
'fess: lie -saW nothing of the fading
iwftntal3i'tkit gle' chin the big, loving
'OW ter bili'orni eyes' were blinded
by a;
hist illirr Afld the woman saw
nething- 01 -thi' hot '!11th, sty tartars
wass#atsd •ahemboth, flat suddenly
the, 4111Thl'e V' f�t Cuatminti
ular4s Milling etlafei
e'f g .i " Abeeenied. "John,
Joitii,:. !t' The- smut istreigbteatd,.itimletf. bis
tate tubed. tar Who anin.11tyer. Sellout
the market for tlac past fatty roars,:land
cannot be eiteelled as a medicine for M11) `
1ifieases or disorders of the stomach.
B.13,13. is -manufactured. only by The
T. Milburn Co., Limited, Toronto, Ont.
It now. Was .it the blessed angels conn.
trig for his Melisse? Be rose, a sob.
bine note In his throat. and went, his
arms stretched out, to meet gem. He
had never beard a sound like that—
never in all his life in this endless wit-
derness
fly Melisse, my Melissel" be sob -
tied
A figure came from the shadows: and
with the figure came the music, sweet
and soft and low John Cummins
.tipped and turned his face straight
Itr
to the sky His heart died within'
111111
CM* unisb' ceased, and when be look.
ed again the figure was close to him,
staggering as' it walked, and a face
white and thin and starved came with
it. It was a boy's face.
"For the museek of the violon—some-
t'ing to eat!" he heard, and the thin
figure swayed and fell almost into bis
arms. The voice came weak again.
"Thees is Jan—Jan Thoreau—and his
violon."
The woman's bloodless face and her
great staring, dark eyes greeted them
as they entered the cabin. As the man
knelt beside her again and lifted her
bead against his breast she whispered
once more:
"It is the—music—of my people—the
violin!"
John Cummins turned his head.
"Play," he breathed.
"Ah, the white angel is seek—ver'
seek." murmured Jan, and he drew his
how gently across the strings of his
violin.
From the instrument there came
something so soft and sweet that John
Cummins closed his eyes as he held
the woman against his breast and lis-
tened. Not until he opened them again
and felt a strange chill against his
cheek did he know that his beloved's
soul had gone from him on the gentle
music of .Tan Thoreau's violin.
For many minutes after the last gen-
tle breath had passed from the wom-
Heart Would Beat Violently.
Nerves Seemed to Be Out of Order.
The heart always works in sympathy
with the nerves, and unless the heart is
working properly the whole nerve system
is liable to become unstrung, and the
heart itself become affected.
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills will
build up the unstrung nervous system
and strengthen the weak heart, so that
the sufferer will enjoy the very best of
health for years to come,
• Mrs. John N. Hicks, Huntsville, Ont.,
writes: "' I am sending you my testimony
for the benefit I have received from using
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills. As a
nerve and heart builder they have done
wonders for me. At times my heart
would ,beat violently, and my nerves
seemed to be all out of order, but after
using a few boxes of Milburn's Heart and
Nerve Pills I feel like recommending
them to others that they might receive
benefit as I did."
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills have
been on the market for the past twenty-
five years, and are universally considered
to be unrivalled as a medicine for all
dism.ers of the heart or nerves.
Milburn's Heart and Nerve Pills are
50c per box, 3 boxes for $1.25, at all
dealers or mailed direct on receipt of
price by The T. Milburn Co., Limited,
Toronto, Ont.
the little cabin in which John Cum•
mins knelt with bis sobbing face
crushed close to that of his dead.
There was no one who noticed Jan
Thoreau when he came through the
door of the factor's office. His coat of
caribou skin was in tatters. His feet
thrust themselves from the toes of his
moccasins. His face was so thin and
white that It shone with the pallor of
death from its frame of straight dark
hair. His eyes gleamed like black din•
moods. The madness of hunger was
In him.
An hour before death bad been grip-
ping at bis throat when he stumbled
upon the lights of the post. That
night he would have died in the deep
snows. Wrapped in its thick coat of
hear skin be crotched bis violin to his
breast and sank down in a ragged
heap beside the hot stove. His eyes
traveled about him In tierce demand.
There is no beggary among these
strong souled men of the far north,
Ind Jan's lips did not beg. He nn -
wrapped the bear skin and whispered:
"For the museek of the violon—some•
t'Ing to eats"
He played even as the words fell
from him, but only for a moment, for
the bow slipped from his nerveless
grip and his head sank forward upon
his breast.
In the half Cree's eyes there was
something of the wild beauty that
gleamed In Jan's. For an instant
those eyes had met in the savage rec-
ognition of blood. and when Jan's
head fell. weakly and his violin slipped
to the floor Mukee lifted him in his
strong arms and -carried him to the
shack in the edge of the spruce and
balsam.
And there was no one who noticed
Jan the next day, except Mukee. He
was fed. His frozen blood grew
warm. As life returned he felt more
and more the pall of gloom that had
settled over this spark of life in the
heart of the wilderness. He bad seen
the woman In life and in death, and
he, too, loved her and grieved that she
was no more. 'He said nothing; he
asked nothing. But be saw the spirit
of adoration in the sad, tense faces of
the men.
It was nothard for Jan to under-
stand, for he, too, worshiped the mem-
ory of a white, sweet face like the one
that he had seen in the cabin. He
knew that this worship at Lac Bain
was a pure worship, for the honor of
the big snows was a part of his soul.
It was his religion and the religion of
these others who lived 400 miles or
more from a southern settlement
It meant what civilization could not
understand—freezing and slow starva-
tion rather than theft and respect for
the Tenth Commandment above all
other things. It meant that up here,
under the cold chill of the northern
skies, things were as God meant them
to be and that a few of his creatures
could live in a love that was neither
possession nor sin.
A year after Cummins brought his
wiie...iata...the..sh th. A IIlg3t,.eame to
"Ah, the white angel is seek --vele seek"
murmured Jan.
an's lips Jan Thoreau played softly
upon his violin. It was the great,
heartbroken sob of John Cummins that
stopped ;him.. In the ding light of the
cabin their eyes met. It was then that
Jan Thoreau knew what bad happen-
ed He forgot his starvation. He
crushed his violin closer and whispered
'to himself:
"The white angel ees—gonei"
Cnmmins rose froth the bedside slow-
ly, like a man who had suddenly grown
old. His moccasined feet: dragged as
he went to the door. ' They stumbled
when he went out Into the pale star
glow of the night.
Jan followed. swaying weakly, for
the last of hissbrength bad gone in the
playing of the violin. Midway in the
cabin he .paused. and bia eyes glowed
with a wild, strange grief nti he gazed
down upon the still face of Cummins'
wIfe, .beautiful in death as it bad been
in life and with the sweet softness of
life ':still lingering there. Some time,
.ages and ages ,ago, he bad known such
a lade Glad had felt the great clutching
love Of it. '
Cummins bad partly closed the door
after him,• but watchers .had seen the
opening of it. L door opened here arid
another there, . and paths of yellow
light fltfehed over the herd trodden
snow as shadowy life came forth to
greet wit mediate be brought from
the little cabin.. When the word carie
to them at hist and peeled from Up to
Up and from one grim, tense face to
•nother the doors closed again an& the
lights went out one by one, until there
re»taisted only the yellow eye of the
Wei Qmea ind th alOY nitp
the poria trots Vert Chitrcb1 f, bit, Hud-
soe's hay. Ile was an Englishmen
belonging to the bonne office of the
Hudson's Bay company in London. Ile
brought with him something new, as
tbe woman bad brought something
new, only to this instance It WAS an
element of life which Cummins' peo-
ple could not uuderstand.
Cummins was away for a month on
a trapline that went into the barren
hinds. At these times tbe woman fell
as a heritage to those wtto remained.
and they watched over ber as a parent
might guard its child. Yet the keen,
est eyes would not bave perceived that
this was so.
With Cummins gone the tragedy pro-
gressed swiftly toward finality. The
Englishman came from among women.
For months he bad been in a torment
of desolation. Cummins' wife was to
him like a flower suddenly come to re-
lieve the tantalizing barrenness of a
desert, and with tbe wiles and ways
of civilization be sought to breathe ita
fragrance.
As yet there was no suspicion in her
soul. She accepted the Englishman's
friendship, for he was a stranger
among her people. She did not bear
the false note, she saw no step that
promised evil. Only the men at the
post beard and saw and understood.
But they were quiet, evaded the Eng-
lishman as much as possible and
watched—always watched.
One day something happened, Cum.
mins' wife came into the company's
store, and a quick liush shot into her
cheeks and the glitter of blue dia-
monds into her eyes when she saw the
stranger standing there. The man's
red face grew redder, and he shifted
his gaze. When Cummins' wife pass-
ed him she drew her skirt close to
her.
That night Mukee, the half Cree,
slunk around in the edge of the forest
to see tbat all was well in Cummins'
The Army of
Constipation
Is Growing Smaller Every Day.
CARTER'S LITTLE
LIVER PILLS ere
responsible—they tat
only give telief—
they permanently
erne Constipa-
tion. Mil-
lion', use
them for
mess, Indigestion, Sick Aeaiaelia, SatThw Skin.
Smell Pill, Small Dore, Small `Pries..
Genuine mud best SSig�naatuuree
se'21 jtsi
�aT.-KEIR%1
Then Mukee's Hands Changed. They
Flew to the Thick Throat of the Man
From Civilization.
little home. Once Mukee had suffered
a lynx bite that went clear to the
bone. and the woman had saved hie
hand. After that the savage in him
was enslaved to her like an invisible
spirit.
He crouched for a few minutes in
the snow, looking at the pale filter of
light that came through a hole in the
curtain of the woman's window, and
as he looked something came between
him and the light With the caution
of a lynx. his bead close to the snow,
he peered around the logs. It was the
Englishman who stood looking through
the window.
Mukee's moccasined feet made no
sound. His hand fell as gently as a
child's upon the stranger's arm.
"Thees is not the honor of the beeg
snows," he whispered. "Come!"
The Englishman chuckled. Then
lfukee's hands changed. They flew to
the thick, reddening throat of the man
from civilization, and without, a sound
the two sank together upon the snow.
The next day a messenger behind
sir doge set out • for Fort Churchill
with word for the company's home
office that the Englishman had died in
the big snow, which was true.
Mukee told this to Jan, for there
was the bond of blood between them.
CHAPTER I1.
Little Matisse.
THEY tarried. Cummins' wife to
where a clearing had been cut
in the edge of the forest. and
at the foot of a giant spruce,
towering sentinel -like to the sky, they
lowered her Into the frozen earth.
Gaspingly Williams, the old !Actor,
'stumbled ovet`lthe words on a ragged
page that had been torn from e. Bible.
The rough men who stood about him
bowed' their wild heads upon their
breasts, and gobs broke from there.
At last Williams stopped his reading,
stretched his long arms above his head
and cried cheklngly:
"The great God keep Mete tiro.
mins!"
de the earth fell there cams from the
edge of the forest the Ion sweet music
of Jan Thoreau's violin-. No man In all
the world could have told what be
played, for it was the music of Jan's
soul, wild and whispering of the Wit"
sweetened by ammo strange Inheritance
that bad comb to hint 'frith Also i o
ture which he carried la blit throbbing
heart.
l#s played until only the tall spruce
and John Cummins stood over the Joni
grave. When he stopped the Juan
ttiluted W ilL a .aLi4.0q..31I0 'moi
L1Ya r, .'3 on,9 .,•
Children Cry for Fletcher's
The Blind Yon I:.eve Always T;ottgltt, and t hich Itis been
in use for o;'cr CO yca-s, has borne the signature of
-,se... and has been made under his per..
sonal supervision since its infancy.
,, / il% Allow no ono to deceive you in this.
All Counterfeits, Imitations and as Just -as -good" are but
Experiments that trifle 'with and endanger the health of
Infants and Children—Experience against Experiment.
What is CASTORIA
Castoria, is a harmless substitute for Castor Oil, Pare-
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contains neither Ophun, Morphine nor other Narcotic
substance. Its age is its guarantee. It destroys Worms
and allays Feverishness. For more than thirty years it
has been in constant use for the relief of Constipation,
Flatulency, Wind Colic, all Teething Troubles and
Diarrhoea. It regulates the Stomach and Bowels,
assimilates the Food, giving healthy and natural sleep.
The Children's Panacea—Tho Mother's Friend.
GENUINE CASTORIA ALWAYS
Bears the Signature of
In Use For Over 30 Years
The Kind You Have Always Bought
THE CENTAUR COMPANY, NEW YORK CITY,
� vF.•7`, L+.,x«;+'l, ri, ,,i,;.:, <ra fd'1irJ,;1 t .n._f'."C'' t ". •�..
to the little cabin where the- woman
bad lived.
There was something new in the cab-
in now—a tiny white, breathing thing
over which an Indian woman watched.
The boy stood beside John Cummins
looking down upon it and trembling.
"Ab," be whispered, his great eyes
glowing, "it ees the leetle white an-
gel!"
"It is the little Melisse," replied the
man.
He dropped upon his knees with his
sad face close to the new life that was
to take the place of the one that had
just gone out. Jan felt something tug-
ging in a strange way at his heart, and
he, too, fell upon his knees beside John
Cummins in this first worship of the
child.
From this hour of their first kneeling
before the little life in the cabin some-
thing sprang up between Jan Thoreau
and John Cummins which it would
have been hard for man to break.
That night when Tan picked up his
violin to go back to Mukee's cabin
Cummins put his two hands on the
boy's shoulders and said:
"Jan. who are you and where did
you come from?"
Jan stretched bis arm vaguely to the
north.
"Jan Thoreau," he replied simply.
"Thees Is my violon. We come alone
through the beeg snow. We starve
seven day in the beeg snow. My violon
keep the wolf off at night."
"Look again, Jan. Didn't you come
from there or there or there?"
Cummins turned slowly, facing first
to the east and Hudson's bay, then to
the south, and lastly to the west There
was something more than curiosity in
the tense face that came back in star-
ing inquiry to Jan Thoreau.
The boy hunched his shoulders, and
his eyes flashed.
"It ees not lie that Jan Thoreau and
bees violon come through the beeg
snow," he replied softly. "It ees not
lie!"
"There Is plenty of room here now,"
said Cummins huskily. "Will you stay
with the little Melisse and me?"
"With the leetle Melissel" gasped the
boy. "I—I—stay with the leetle white
angel for ever and evert"
No man learned more of Jan than
had Cummins. Even to Mukee his his-
tory was equally simple and short. Al-
ways he said that he came from out of
the north, which meant the Barren
lands, and the Barren lands meant
death. No man had ever corpo across
them as Jan had come, and at another
time and under other circnmstanees
Cummins and his people would have
believed him mad.
But they knew that Jan Thoreau bad
come like a messenger from the angels,
that the woman's soul had gone out to
meet him, and that she had died sweet-
ly on John Cummins' breast while he
played. So the boy. with his thin, sere
stove face and his great, beautiful
eyes. became a part of what the wo-
man bad left behind for them to love.
In a way he made up for her lose.
The woman bad brought something
new and sweet into their barren lived,
and he brought something new and
sweet—the music of his violin. He
played for them in the evening in the
factor's office. and at these times they
knew that Cummins' wife was very
near to them and that she was speak-
ing to them through the things which
Jan Thoreau played.
There were hours o1 triumph for Jest
in the factor's office. but It was . tit
audience in the little cabin. that Jar
liked best, and, Most Of all. be loam
to have the mita mow alone. Ah
the days of early spring trapping a .
proached and flit trildernei far a halm
dred tittle' ,aren't, .this bolt. wiYlt C .
crossed with the trails of C •ee and
Chippewayan fur fee e s. Cummins
was absent for days at a time,
strengtbening the company's friend-
ships and bargaining for the catch
that would be coming to market about
eight weeks later.
'Phis was a year of Intense rivalry.
tor the French competitors of the.
company had established a post 200
miles to the west, and rumor spread-
tbat they were to give sixty pounds
of flour to the company's torty and
four feet of cloth to tbe yard. This
meant action among Williams and his
people, and the factor himself. bis son
and all bis men plunged into the wile
derness.
The exodus left desolate Lifelessness
at the post.
In the silence and lifelessness Jag
Tboreau felt a new and ever increas
ing happiness. To him tbe sound of
life was a thing vibrant with harsh-
ness; quiet—the dead, pulseless quiet
of llfelessness—was heantifuL Hq.
dreamed in it, and It was then that his
fingers discovered new things in 1114
violin.
He often sent Mebatla. the ladle*
woman who cared for Melisse, to got3+
sip with Williams' Chippewayan wife*
so that be was alone a great deal with
the baby. At these times, when thc11
door was safely barred against th
outside world, it was a different Jail
Thoreau who crouched upon his knee!!
beside the cot. His face was aflamah
with a great, absorbing passion which'
at other times be concealed.
"Ale ze sweet leetle white angeli'C
he would cry as she tugged and kicks
ed. "I luf you so -1 luf you an' wily
stay always an' play ze violent Alt,
you will be ze gr -r -r -eat bea•ntifali
white angel lak—berl"
He would laugh and coo like a motif -'r
er and talk, for at these times Jabj{
Thoreau's tongue was as voluble as Via}
violin. His voice grew soft and lots,
and his eyes shone with a soft inlet a/1
be told her those things which Joltj
Cummins would have given much td;
know.
"Some day you shall nnderatan
why it happened, sweet Melisse,"
whispered, bringing his eyes so n
that she reached up an inquiring finge141
to them. "Then you will luf Jan Tho.,
ream" fb
Once. when Melisse straightened lier+l
self for an instant and half reached
up her tiny arms to him, laughing ani
cooing into his face, he gave a glad
cry, crushed his face down to hors and
did what he had not dared to do bel'
fore—kissed her. There was somethinj
about It that frightened the little M
lisse. and she set up a wailing the
sent Jan in a panic of dismay for 114-:
bails. It was a long time before hi
ventured to kiss her again.
It was during this fortnight Of deeds
lation at the post that Jan after a short;
absence one day discovered the big,!
problem for himself and John Cum!
mins.
Upon her knees in front of their.
cabin hs caw Meballa. induetrionsbil
rolling the half naked little Meltse*
about In a *oft pile of snow acid doinI
her work, es she firmly believed. in al:
most faithful and thorough manna!';
With a shriek. Jan threw off his pact
aftd darted toward her like a !MMI
thing..
"Snore hien—you keels -keel U
" heed ehrilt Melisse! eri y, snatching t]
the half frozen child. "Mon Dien, -
ted not papoose; the see ceevitize—ce ;i
rillset" and he ran swiftly with h*:
into the b,r stingiback tl torrinI
of C4ee ancaatheinma at
ng the. dufttb d $ji
tendered I'Ittbrllia.
(To Bt CONTINUED.1