The Granite Enterprise. (Granite, Okla.), Vol. 15, No. 25, Ed. 1 Friday, October 30, 1914 Page: 6 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: Oklahoma Digital Newspaper Program and was provided to The Gateway to Oklahoma History by the Oklahoma Historical Society.
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The Ambition of MaritTruitt
HENRY klSSUL MUJJt
CMAtTtN
fiMt M MM «MD>* fiM Mi eocMf
'* !* It «M tlww) I B« k Tkoy'fo
Ml|| |0* tW ytlMl «« W Bgaiaal
at* It waa *)••>• ao Ktaetkody aao
tar |im Im M *a*rytkiag i* " "
eaay !• mi II n«* k*!< <• •*
bar 4 | roald MM M MMkm M i**
II-•
•fee. fM. PMl. I kno* Nl mmfm
gOIBg !t rhaSge Ikll 0 * COMB along
• Ik* lain a M«|iH *n(i 1
To |rl bark la k r. I euppoaa?"*
HWf algbeg
I KiKi gel b*i k to her l ow* on "
I dot i think I—" Molia oordB
rim* t*4aee« ga*pe Hom*<hing
Mrinod to be tkaklni •
MtInula I—I mu*i * i som* iking*"
Mark looked quickly back oter k a
a boulder. raught by an odd change I#
the (laltillto «olc«. Duak m gather-
tug rapidly. deepening the abadoaa in
< bo hed and bo could bare!* I he
ngure fumbling about In hia corner
There ana a pau « — I'lotFa aearch
reetn'tl lo hate been successful- then
a metallic click. Mark ahlrled sharply
on him
-Plolr— !•
Ah!" It aaa not a ob now. but a
lo* gutteral growl. throbbing with
hate and triumph
Piotr too. whirled. From hlo cor
tier a point of flame I raped out toward
Mark, another -another —until all
^VHML*W1
ti
From Piotr'a Corner a Point of Flama
Leaped Out Toward Mark.
shots had rung out. At th#last Mark's
head drooped forward, his body swayed
slowly and fell In a crumpled heap
across the doorway. . .
When he awoke he was being
dragged by his wounded shoulder In
bitch fashion that his head scraped
along the floor. He did not realize
t>o much, merely that his pain had
Increased a hundredfold. He tried to
cry out, but could only lie limp and
silent. Then he felt a hand passing
over his face and a voice that seemed
very far away muttering fretfully.
"I wonder if you're dying or sham-
ming. It would be like you to sham.
I didn't mean to ehoot then. I didn't
want you to die until you knew the
mills were gone. But I had to—when
you looked at me that way, I had to."
Mark heard, but the words meant
nothing to him. The voice muttered
on; detached sentences came to him.
"It isn't so easy as I thought . . .
I'd better go now, while I can. . . .
I'm afraid. I never drove a horse. . . .
Twice, coming here, I fell. I thought
I was dead, but it didn't go off—I
don't know why. ... I'd like to tell
you about Kazia's doctor. I saw them
jne night and followed them. You
wouldn't believe it of her, would you?
It nearly killed me. ... It was your
fault. You ran away from her. . . .
It would be easy to drive off the road
and fall in the dark. . . . I'm tired,
and I tremble. Seeing you makes it
worse. ... I keep wondering what
they'll do to me. . . . When the mills
are gone. I'm coming back to you. I
guess you'll stay. . . Maybe I'd better
finish you now—you're so lucky al-
ways."
Mark felt the hand again, now at
hia throat, pressing hard. He tried to
protest: "That is quite superfluous,"
but the pressure would not let him.
When blackness was closing in on him
once more, the grip relaxed.
But he did not quite lose conscious-
ness this time. He heard the other
move about, still muttering, then pass
out The sound of wheela and the
horse's tramping through the tall
weeds died aw ay in the distance.
At first Mark lay Inert. A mortal
weakness held him. He could realize
enty the pain He wanted nothing but
to lie prone and motionless. ... A
dMtarbing thought began to tug at hia
brain He ought not to be there
There was a thing he mast do. some I
s*ie he must see What was It?
Kazia!" The name gave him a
thrilling shock thtt sharpened the pa .
but cleared bis mind a little.
And the mill*! The mills! Kax - I
aa4 the mills! The two thoughts were j
Inextricably mingle I
With a rush came realization of hi* t
plight Piotr. the puny whimpering J
I m4m a bo triage* a mmH.
| M Mm aad •« oa hia oat M
I kits ap ilka Mltla hM« Maal ha hr
! *• ailed Milk aa edort M l n«4 h a
| efea of a a ad held IhaM ao aalll I ha
nrat giddlaewa paaaed Ha rataad hia
head. II fall hack aim a "had
* I raa i 4o ii." he groaoad
| Hat the mlUa a*d Kaaia'
| "lira gut 10 do II I Mast atop Mm
I Maal get to bar *
Than began a Itghl lo all up. lo
aland lo b-at off the latlalble hand*
it*lag io drag him hark lata tha black
neaa How long the struggle lasted.
b> a hgl degraaa he progrwaaad. ha did
not know bui a ban II was o«er he
aaa leaning waakly agalaal tha door
jamb Ilia brain a aa reeling, ha
braathad aohblngly. but by bracing hi in
aelf dewperately with tha cane. ret©*
rr*d In ihe struggle to atan4. ha man-
at'd to hold what ha had won.
Ilia brain cleared again, a little
•teadineea came to the i rambling
limbs Summoning all his trill, he
passed with uncertain dragging atrpa
out of the shed A cold damp wind
b real bed refreshingly upon him. Ha
gripped hia cane more tightly and
atarted slowly down tha weedy road.
He reached the foot of tba hill and
' ssnk down In a little rain pool, rested
1 pantingly and laved hia hot face a few
minutes, th«-n staggered to his faet
< and limped on until weakneas over-
came bim once mora and be fall.
More than an hour later be was still
lurching along the road- Kazia and
the mills! They were In danger, they
were being taken from him; be must
i save them.
So be beat hia way slowly along
moonlit stretches of rough road.
> through darkened ravines where only
; instinct found a path, until at last
rounding a curve, be saw the furnace
I looming huge before him.
Aa hours passed and Mark did
! not return, a aense of an approaching
! crisis, of a danger, came to Kazia. The
squall died away, full darkness fell,
j the train she was to have taken with
! Piotr rolled to a stop at the station
, and out again, and still be had not re-
turned. The sense grew heavier, pas-t
I sive waiting unbearable. To escape J
{ her foreboding she went out Into the ;
! night and walked about again in the
I place she had once thought of as a
I haven. But she quickly left the ram- j
bling old village, seen for the first
time, yet holding so many memories
of which she must not think, and went j
over to the new Bethel with its wide |
paved streets and rows of pretty little
cottages. Many of the cottages were
dark and untenanted as yet, but she j
saw them as they would be when they
were the homes of a happy folk who
toiled without exhaustion or fear, with |
kindness in their hearts one for an- j
other.
She left the cluster of homes-to-be
and retraced her steps over the street
that led past the mills to the bridge, i
J started to cross. But at the entrance
she stopped. Everywhere It was the
same, a redolence of him. After all,
to her Bethel, the haven, was just
Mark Truitt
All her fine resolutions and philoso-
phy had become insufficient. The sight
of the river, the woods in their au-
tumnal glory, the song of the rapids
had revivified the scenes of her one
happiness.
She did not think that there might
be some to see. She was weeping,
head bowed on the bridge rail.
"Oh, I shouldn't have come. I want
him—him. And I have no right to
have him. It would be the cruelest
thing I could do to him—even if he
cared. I was wrong to come."
Thus she told hope—the immortal!
—it must not live. . . .
Old Simon had no skill for it and
hence no part in the building of the
mills. But he spent his days watching
them grow". Often at night, when
Bethel was sleeping, he would slip
across the river to realize again that
after so many years his dreams were
coming magnificently true.
That night he left his seat on the
stoop, where he had been wonderlngly j
but patiently awaiting the absent j
Mark, and trudged down to the river j
and across the bridge. He saw the
figure leaning on the rail at the farther :
end. but not until he was close did he 1
see it was that of a weeping woman, i
He would have turned aside, but he |
perceived that she bad heard him and ;
lifted her head.
He stopped short, staring in aston j
ishment at the woman, a sort that had
never before come within his ken.
After a moment's hesitation he went
to her.
"Is anything wrong, ma'am?'
She shook her head.
"Is there anything I kin do fur ye?"
Again the silent gesture.
•if there is," be persisted: "I'd like
to do it fur ye."
She found her voice. "It Is noth
ing ' She tried to smile. "Sometimes
women cry for nothing, about little
things."
• Some women do." Simon answered
gravely. "I guess ye're a stranger
here, ain't ye? I'm Simoa" Truitt."
She started "You're bia father*"
Simon noted the unconscious use of
the pronoun Mark's, ye mean ? Ye .
ma'am Did ye know hia. back there
la tba city?" I
aa • *■**!«*, aa* l iag k*sa*4
•teas aad l*«tad k>< Mr* IfW
■ iWMtkgM Mka taeM*d la ka at
' gfag aaaM a it* a nHM aa*
diaaaa (Mead Maaa* | nartag.
tM a - •••!« «'■ <r < M area
ilaipad ImmMNP Ml aad k«n4
•a.'l afaMbiag aub a mimi fc
aa* lilnbk
* Mabbf n mm N# Mm a
i>*> i Mai Matte* aa* <ka«
U | IM fa baa Mr* #*k*tla v*
H ia l 1 Mi t*a« *
T aw aoa4et*d iWtoa I a
bias abatk be iboagbl *a aaa
)aal eat 11* aad M*H el MlkM
gttat is I kao* ' kiaa* a (aaa, lam.
eamgM iba abadaa "1 Uas "
ti Migbl be bars a— mi Ma bat aal-
aat M Ma *
"Hart bee a aaa be aaau *a. ye aaeaa*
Hal It tow Id • iba i Taial UMrff
*a 4 Sad laa sack a«Mea aa fa. aeaa
la iba «lif Aa lalat likely bed
i trouble tu Mack If I bare aaMl •
en Ma a la It. I a lab fa rwald glte MM
akal be aaedi ~
\\ bai be naeda la la bate Ma W
Made aver trota iba beglablM. Ha
cab I ba e Iba I *
"II be a Jeet aabllo aotna one.
there's a aaf be could bate It"
VtHi doa i uadersiaad. ska aaid
WWftt)
"No. I deal uhd<-raiaiid "that's Ika
I rouble I d Ilka to ktd|> htm. lo give
him what be bred' llal I dual know
bow 1 here's i otkia' I can glva Mm "
He turaad kla faca aaay from bar.
looking up al Iba furnace, big Mid
menacing, outlined against the sky.
There waa allenra among the mill*
t'roji tba old tillage behind them came
faint tague sounds of Ufa—a dlatanl
tinkle of laugktrr. a crying child, a
neighing horse From the new town
beyond the mills came no aound but a
aingle voire In song, a plld eery chant
that had been brought from another
land The song was itnlahed Kaala
and Simon stirred, aa though they bad
bee ti waiting for Its cloae to bring
their strange encounter to an end.
"What's that?"
Both started From somewhere near
them bad come a audden muffled
cackle of mirthleaa uncanny laughter.
"Sounda 'b If It coma from the fur-
nace. There hadn't ougbter be any-
body 'round here. Hut I guess It's Just
the watchman In the power house. The
still night makes It aound like that."
But even a* he npoke they saw the
figure of a man crawling from behind
the furnace. He scrambled to his feet
and began to run, with an awkward
hobbling gait, up the tracka toward
the bridge. The moonlight fell full on
hia face.
"Flotr!"
Aa the cry. In a voice he kuew,
reached him. the man atopped aud-
denly, stared wildly about and saw the
two flgurea advancing on him. He
raised his hands in a frantic gesture.
"Kazia! Go back—go back!"
She did not heed his warning. "Flotr!
What are you doing?"
"Go back!" he screamed. "You'll
be killed. It's dynamite!"
Instantly the others guessed what
Impended. Kazla beard a low moan
beside her. saw Simon run, as fast as
his age-stiffened limbs allowed, toward
the furnace, as if he thought to avert
the imminent destruction.
"You mustn't!" she cried. "Come
back!"
If the old man heard, be did not
obey. She fled after him. in instinctive
purpose to drag him back out of
danger.
They reached Plotr, passed him. He
stood bewildered, glancing uncertainly
toward the refuge of the woods. Then,
with a low* whimpering cry, he, too,
joined In that moonlight race. He
could not have overtaken her, had she
not tripped and fallen over a switch.
He flung himself upon her, moaning
shudderingly.
"Kazla, I didn't want to hurt you."
Simon sped on.
That was what Mark Truitt, crouch-
ing where he had last fallen, saw just
before the explosion came. There was
a hoarse deafening roar. The great
furnace seemed to reel, then toppled
and fell.
They found him weakly trying to
remove the debris from a place near
the edge of the ruin. ^.They drew him
aside and a hundred strong hands took
up his task. Soon they found the dead
Flotr and under him Kazia, still
breathing. It was not until daybreak
that they came to Simon.
Kazia was carried to the village and
laid in Doctor Hedges' own bouse. All
through the night and in the morning,
until the great surgeon from the city
came, he fought off death. Then the
surgeon took up the fight with a
knowledge and skill the old doctor did
not possess. For two days they did
not sleep but watched and battled.
In the adjoining room a man, him-
self the object of the doctor's care,
passed through his Gethsemane. The
dead, his own pain and weakness, all
else, were forgotten in his agony for
the one who, it seemed, could not live.
Sometimes he would rise from the
couch where they had laid him and
creep into the other room to join the
watchers there until the Bight of the
still, bandaged form became more than
he could bear. Then he would let
them lead him back to his couch. His
lips moved constantly. In what words
he did not know. Their burden waa
the cry of all Gethsemanes.
"Let this cup pass from me."
So the miracle waa made perfect
Toward the laat cf that watcb his j
weakness began to overcome him. The I
doctors supposed he slept and said ;
"It is best." He did not sleep He j
had lost sense of his surrounding* but '
his brain was alive. He waa fighting. .
struggling supremely, to bold ber back 1
from the precipice over which she was j
slowly falling. Onca she aeemed to be
slipping from hia clasp. He beard ber ,
piteous cry ta him-
He roe* with a atart and loitered
into her room.
Mr akatpefd
ft«dW*a iMaaaM M aea dadMBMB aad
•ataki fcatt Md Maa tas* la Ma saaafc
N tt*«* foaaated
I lai Ha ska talked mm, I
ae« m *
-\M Mat' said Ik* e*t#aaaa 'I'M*
ak f* a *M Mat tbaaa*
Ma—aa rata a >114 MM aad Mark aaai
at a# la ka* He dtapfd ka ka M aa
k! Ike kedaada aad Hated taft gea H.
ika MM aaiilaed aadaf ika ahaat
fee***' ka akkapatad *ily
My toa*. daai laat* aw' t*Mft fwa
Mai daai * ika Miiort* Maa <*mm"
Ha tkaagM thai ak* algkad. aa *00
a It red rtuid akea II stake lo a*—p.
aM that a tmta mU* taaakad ika pal*
Hi*
Tka *tk*ra 414 otrt aaa kat Ikao
I key kad aal heard Mr tall
CMAOTtn k**.
▼aa unpaid ft'Hta
It aaa aa ladlaa euMM*r day. akaa
Ik* aaa paaeed ia aMita gaaially back
at*r kla tkoaldw ai ika eartfc ka aaa
leatiag ia winter a >old taervf. aad a
a arm alad Mea eoflif Toward waa
katie, lea a lag aa Ik* doctor and kla
kuaoM wife, aaa he I peg to ika front
porck. where ihe MaUe sat aaltlag
with cuehioaa aad ahawla la a Mg
rocking rkair Ika coataleec*ai was
mad* tomforiabt*. allk cuahiona al
head and f**« and ik* ahawla lucked
rar*fully around bar.
You'ra aur* you r* warM enough*"
queried Mrs lledg.w with needieea
anilety.
Quite aura. You all apoll me vltk
kindneaa'
Mr*. I led gee gate a laat pat to the
cuablon behind Kaala'a head 'You
take a deal of apolllng, I think, dearie "
Kaiia algbed "I'll bale to leave
you." Tears, for eome reaaon. were
ireacberoualy ready that morning
"Then." drawled the doctor, "you're
thinking of leaving ua?"
"I muat—aoon." Hut under tha doc-
tor's twinkling gaze a girlish flush
•prang Into view—perhaps to keep the
tears company.
"Too much color." chuckled the doc-
tor. "Let me feel your pulse "
The crimson deepened and aa la-
atantly vaniabed.
"I've a cake In the oven." Mra.
Iledg** auddenly remembered. "Doc-
tor. I'll need you."
"Need me?" Tha doctor Btarted.
"Am I a—"
"At once. Doctor." came a atern
command from the hall.
Eh? Oh—!" A light broke in upon
him and he chuckled again. "Coming,
my dear, coming!"
The Matka, too, would have left her.
but Kazia stayed her. "Don't go," she
satd In the Matka's tongue.
The old woman halted, irresolute.
"He. your lover, will be coming soon."
Timidly she laid a thin knotted hand
on the scarf enshrouding Kazia's hair.
Kazia ignored that. "You will hate
to leave this place, won't you?"
The Matka nodded. "There is peace
here. Even the old smile and make
jests, and they grow old easily, as a
child grows into youth. And my Piotr
is here." Her eyes sought a distant
hillside, where white stones gleamed
in the sunshine.
"But we must go. I don't belong
here. What would these kind people
think if they knew"—the voice broke
a little—"what you know."
"They would think as I'do. And I—
I know nothing, except that you love
and are loved. Such love I have never
Been. It Is not the love your mother
and her lover had. All here know and
. Mad Ika* Mad teea t*o —
f Ika kaM Ik Ma ayeo HaMi— Mm
laa Mm ikstmag kee Hk IM eaaamama
•aa Ml IB ko aaatiakei. MP Ik*
ika« laid Hart iksrr a* alMa umbo,
■« m ikt pMf ad aoa aatdi k*e Waal
ua* aaa Ma# aad
H k Ml laa lai* ki_. _
tflag. aad e*o uked la tela to sttOe
u ■■ ■ a
a iMta allk
"Thia la the First Time Since the Ac-
cident That I've Seen You Alone."
are glad of It. I do not think you can
go and leave him unhappy." And the
Matka stole away.
"It came too late."
Kazia's lips said that and the wait-
ing tears overflowed, lingering gem-
like on the fringe of closed lashes. A
thousand times she had repeated the
words to herself since the first hour
of consciousness when she bad seen
him bending over her. She thought
she believed It But her fast-beating
heart, as she awaited her lover's com-1
ing, sounded another answer.
The heavy throbbing ceased, began |
again, keeping time w ith a trampling j
of boofa from down the atreet. Her ,
closed eyes did not open even when
the trampling era serf and she heard
hia step, punctuated by the ring of
caaa on gravel, until bia atep. too.
ceased and she felt him near ber. his .
ran upon her. She dreaded to meet j
that gate.
Slowly tha reluctant lids opened '
. . aad dread look wings, like a atgkt
I l* i tea rtakia. ka tad **•••*
■Ma M Ika Mai I Ma* aMsa Ika aaa*
I deal I t* ao*a l*a ak aa *"
-Vm I—" sk* Mgaa hbm Mtalaglf
-Tka a«k*ra kata pael mm Ml u mm
salt I beta I be f a III MM* *
Iba*. k* BMiWd raaaaartaglf. "I
a ill call ikata al aa<*. 9m I kato omay
ibtaga lo akoa foa laday aad Ika daM
lac at ta aa akaard luail lo oar dn*a
Ha rap fad m Ika daot aad ika dao
laa appeared, aad k*kiad klM Ika
MalMk Tkaa. a bile Ika Mel ha piled
Ik* caakiaM ta Ika aaal. Mark aad
Ike donor k*tp*d Kill* otar Ika Hula
aalk aad lata Ik* kaggy.
"Aad Miad foa." Ika dorior ad farad
ik.M aa Mark got la aad ika korea
aiar«*d. I wo koara at ika mooI If foa
raa k**p track of the inae!"
Tkaa k* genily lad Ike Maika keck
Into the howe* For aha. a bo bad Iof
goti*r> boa lo aaep far aorrao. aaa
**eptag boa tar laa Joy awalllac
Karia
First Mark drot*. tery aloaly and
carefully, through lb* old village and
aero, a tka bridge until be cama lo lia
middle point. Tfcere ka atoppad
Tb* mill* a*ra na longer llfeleaa
and atlent. A row of giant atacka
a pouted Clou da of keaty black amoke
thai flutierrd latily aaay in tba breeaa
lo long wavering prnnona Ibrougk
th«* power house windows the watch-
era caught a gllmpee of great 0jr-
wheela whirling and bright platona
plunging. From the rolling mills be
yond came a low monitory rumble of
englitea stirring tentatively, testing
tbelr aliiee• aa they walled to pounce
upon and torture the coming ateel.
And before tbem towered the rebuilt
furnace, alive now and diacordantly
vocal with Ita first labor. Thither Mark
pointed.
"Watch now! We're Just In time.
Our first tap!"
As he spoke, the shriek of the
checked blast rose, drowning all other
aound*. and the crew of men working
at the furnace mouth sprang hack.
Out of a circle of darting fires forth
leaped a molten deadly flood. A chan-
nel in the sloping sand-bed received It
and bore it Bwlftly. In a dozen
branchea, to the waiting ladles. Little
gaseous flames played impishly over
the golden surface. The Btench of
burning sulphur arose. As the cascad-
ing flood filled the ladles, drops
splashed out upon the ground and burst
in a thousand tiny points of light.
Almost before Kazla realized it. the
flood had subsided and the full ladlea
were moving away.
He drove on and took the long wind-
ing road that led past Hedges' Hill—
though he did not remind her of his
meeting with Piotr—and after many
miles circled back to the village. They
talked little, and perhaps that little
was hardly worthy of a record. Kazia
lay back in her cushions, her eyes fol
lowing his hand as he pointed out
some new beauty to her.
"How could you leave it?" she mur-
mured, as often she had exclaimed
when she had heard of it from the
adventuring youth.
"But if I hadn't left it, I shouldn't
have found you. So—I'm glad I went"
She made no answer to that.
Farther on they came to a branch
road that once he had known. He fol-
lowed it a while until there came to
them a delicious spring-like fragranoe.
He stopped the horse again.
"I thought I could find It. See!"
He pointed to an old tree that stood,
a mass of fresh green leaves and
snowy blossoms, a little away from the
roadside.
"What is it?"
"A pear tree."
"But it's autumn and I thought—"
She glanced up at him wonderlngly.
"Every fall that tree puts out a new
set of leaves and blossoms. You see,
there is new life even after spring has
gone."
She looked long and earnestly at the
blossoming tree. "But winter will
come and the blossoms will wither—
fruitless."
No longer could he refuse words to
his longing.
"Ah! my dear," he cried, "let us
forget signs and symbols. There Is
such a thing as new birth. And It's
always spring where there is love. You
will forgive me," he laughed unstead-
ily, "if I talk like a very young poet,
for I am very, very happy today."
A touch of the old ready color was
glowing faintly in her wan cheeks.
"Have you looked enough?" he
smiled. "For, if you have, we must
go. It will be getting chilly soon. And
besides, they are waiting for ua."
"Waiting—?"
"Yes. Didn't you know? Doctor
Courtney is to marry us tonight"
The color vanished and she shrank
back from him, lifting piteous pleading
eyes to his.
"Oh. Mark, don't ask me that. I
can't—I can't Couldn't you let me
have this day—"
"Did you think I'd let you go again?
Did you think you could? Only one
thing in the world could make me let
you go—if you can say you don't love
me And you can't say that."
"No. I cant—Bay that But don't
ask me. Don't you see. It would be
cruel to you—It would be worse for
me. Yoa forget now—but some day
you would remember—that I— Ah! ]
dont force me to aay It!"
Her thin waated hards went to ber
face, bat be drew them away that abe ,
might see he had not fllnrbed
Kazia. Juat thia oace wetl apeak
of the past, and tb«a wa ll put It tor
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M**aa M «*a*e o aap*a a el tgiaarr
"Mat 1Mb kaeo tka KaMa Ikal wftad
H lo Mm mo port al Iko MB M* K
kagao ikaaa day* okog —
yoa eoatdal H*e sad I taarood arkM
lot* M aad a MM N oaald mrnmm M Moo
"Ahl Taka Mai"
you. It trill never end. lo It I yoa
doubt? Dear. I know—I know. And
I nerd you. Can't you understand. I
need you? You won't you can't toll
me now?"
"You don't know what you aak." aka
whispered. "But I can't light against
it any longer 1 want you ao. Only
promise me -when you remember—
you won't let ma know."
"I proniiae. Kazla—!"
"Ah! Take me."
A Bob shook her and she swayed
toward him. He caught her and draw
her very gently to him. . . . After a
little she smiled through her tears.
It was evening and the others had
gone, leaving them alone again.
There was no light but the glow of
embers on the hearth in the little cot-
tage that was to be their home for a
while. But It was enough for them, In
whose hearts the unquenchable torch
was glowing, revealing beauties and
glories they never had known. They
sat very close, watching—and listen-
ing.
For the silence of the hills was
ended forever. Throughout that day,
as the iron they had seen flowing ad-
vanced toward its destiny, the new
creature that had come Into the valley
had been awakening to full life. Sec-
tion after section had received the Ilfe-
glvtng power, until now all the huge
mechanism was In motion, driving,
whirling, pounding at top speed. The
earth quivered in answer to Ita pulsa-
tion. Crunching metal, raging blasts,
fires such as served at the creation,
lifted their voices in chorus—an ode
of the elements to man the master, the
song of steel. A terrible song whose
beauty only the understanding might
discern—singing madly of power and
passion and purpose, of struggle and
death, of birth ana life, of triumph
and steadfast strength.
To the lovers, rich In the knowledge
that comes only after sin and payment
and release, the song came not In vain.
"Ought you to be there?" she whis-
pered.
"Not tonight, dear."
"Could we see It from here?"
He helped her to a chair by the
south window and stood at her side
while she saw.
The night sketched the drama of
steel for her. Again the great fur-
nace was setting free its lambent
flood. Under open sheds were gleam-
ing the sun-bright mouths of other
furnaces where the iron boiled and
boiled and became steel.
"Ah!" Wonderment and adoration
were in her cry. "And It is yours—II
Is you!"
"Not I, not mine! I don't know how
many generations of men gave them-
selves that we might have that 1
know It was not for me, for any man.
For all who suffer and toil."
His face was set sternly toward the
mills. For a long time he was silent.
"What is It?" And she broke the
silence with a whisper. "What do you
see out there?"
Sternness melted Into tenderneaa.
"A parable," he smiled down on her,
"of our lives—of life. Desire and dis-
illusionment, battle and toll, conquest
and failure, evil and shame—the fires
and pressures that burn us and shape
us." His hand rested on her hair.
"And the purpose In which the real
life begins."
"Ah! I wouldn't have you different
But to me—to me life isn't a parable—
It Is you. . . . This peace, this content
—I can't believe yet that they are
true, that they always will be true
Ah! Teach me teach me!" . .
THE END
Wlnthrop's Toast.
Our Country—whether bounded by
the St. John'a and th« Sabine, or bow
ever otherwise bounded or described,
and b* the measure* mora or lean-
Btlll. Our Country, to be rheriaked in
all oar hearts, to H - defended by all
oar hands—Hobart C. Wlnthrop, Jaly
«. IMS.
*|v
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The Granite Enterprise. (Granite, Okla.), Vol. 15, No. 25, Ed. 1 Friday, October 30, 1914, newspaper, October 30, 1914; (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc281754/m1/6/?q=%22%22~1: accessed August 15, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.