Part 1 (1/2)

The Magnificent Adventure

by Eh

CHAPTER I

MOTHER AND SON

A wo of features--a wo, tree-clad slopes that ran down froate at the distant roadway She had sat thus for soh waiting for so or someone that she did not now see, but expected soon to see

It was late afternoon of a day so beautiful that not even old Albeinia, ever produced onethat day, nor in the century since then For this was o; and what is now an ancient land was then a half opened region, settled only here and there by the great plantations of the well-to-do The house that lay at the sualleries--its flung doors opening it froaze as one approached--had all the rude coentry of that tie, and the habit, of the Widois to sit idly when she liked, but her attitude noas not that of idleness

Intentness, reposeful acceptance of life, rather, showed in her -sustained position She was patient, as wo pose, its freedom froave her the look of owning so ure of a woallery of her old hoo

The Widois stared straight down at the gate, a quarter of a aze But as so often happens, what she awaited did not appear at the time and place she herself had set

There fell at the western end of the gallery a shadow--a tall shadow, but she did not see it She did not hear the footfall, not stealthy, but quite silent, hich the tall owner of the shadow ca e, who stood now and gazed at her after his silent approach, so like that of an Indian savage Half savage hiarinian borderlands a a people so often called to the chase or to war

His tunic was of dressed deer hide, his well-fitting leggings also of that h his hat and the neat scarf at his neck were those of a gentleman He was a practical youth, one would have said, for no ornaarb In his hand he carried a long rifle of the sort then used thereabout At his belt swung the hide of a raccoon, the bodies of a few squirrels

Had you been a close observer, you would have found each squirrel shot fair through the head Indeed, a look into the gray eye of the silent-paced youth would have assured you in advance of his skill with his weapons--you would have known that to be natural with him

You would not soon have found his like, even in that land of tall hunting ht and clean-liraceful in his stride The beauty of youth was his, and of a strong heredity--that you ht have seen

The years of youth were his, yes; but the lightness of youth did not rest on his brow While he was not yet eighteen, the gravity of manhood was his

He did not s out for his return, and not seeing him now that he had returned Instead, he stepped forward, and quietly laid a hand upon her shoulder, not with any attempt to surprise or startle her, but as if he knew that she would accept it as the announceure in the chair did not start away No exclaht mouth of the face now turned toward him Evidently the nerves of these tere not of the sort readily sta man's mother at first did not speak to him She only reached up her own hand to take that which lay upon her shoulder They remained thus for a moment, until at last the youth stepped back to lean his rifle against the wall

”I a himself at her feet, threw his arain now, and not the hunter and the man

She stroked his dark hair, not foolishly fond, but with a sort of stern ed, straightening out the riot it had assumed It made a mane above his forehead and reached down his neck to his shoulders, so heavy that where its dark mass was lifted it showed the skin of his neck white beneath

”You are late, yes”

”And you waited--so long?”

”I a for you, Merne,” said she She used the Elizabethan vowel, as one should pronounce ”bird,” with no sound of ”u”--”Mairne,” the name sounded as she spoke it And her voice was full and rich and strong, as was her son's;for you, Merne,” said she ”But I long ago learned not to expect anything else of you” She spoke with not the least reproach in her tone ”No, I only knew that you would come back in time, because you told me that you would”

”And you did not fear for ht in the woods?” He half sht himself

”You knoould not I know you, what you are--born woodsman No, I trust you to care for yourself in any wild country, ain into the forest When will it be, my son? Too to the wilderness again It draws you, does it not?”

She turned her head slightly toward the west, where lay the forest froed He did not sularly e