Falkner loved to tell the little fellow of the wonderful days of four or
five years ago away down in the sunny Ohio valley where he had courted
the Girl and where they lived before they moved to the farm in Canada. He
tried to impress upon Little Jim's mind what it meant for a great big,
unhandsome fellow like himself to be loved by a tender slip of a girl
whose hair was like gold and whose eyes were as blue as the wood-violets.
One evening he fumbled for a minute under his bunk and came back to the
table with a worn and finger-marked manila envelope, from which he drew
tenderly and with almost trembling care a long, shining tress of golden
hair.
"That HERS," he said proudly, placing it on the table close to the mouse.
"An' she's got so much of it you can't see her to the hips when she takes
it down; an' out in the sun it shines like--like--glory!"
The stove door crashed open, and a number of coals fell out upon the
floor. For a few minutes Falkner was busy, and when he returned to the
table he gave a gasp of astonishment. The curl and the mouse were gone!
Little Jim had almost reached its nest with its lovely burden when
Falkner captured it.
"You little cuss!" he breathed revently. "Now I know you come from her! I
know it!"
In the weeks that followed the storm Falkner again followed his
trap-lines, and scattered poison-baits for the white foxes on the Barren.
Pages:
243
244
245
246
247
248
249
250
251
252
253
254
255
256
257
258
259
260
261
262
263
264