The Hesperian / (Lincoln, Neb.) 1885-1899, April 11, 1896, Page 8, Image 8
THE HESPERIAN The Captain. Ho wnlkod homo clown tho old road, watching tho snatches of snnaot through tho tall poplars that rose on oithor sido. Thoy stood liko tall scntinols, watching ovor tho highway. 13ut, looking at thoirstntoly stoma, ono folt only a disappointing sonso of what might havo boon. Somo woro dying at tho high crown, somo woro brown and withorod bolow. Somo had died down and started again in thick, stubby growths, half way up tho trunk; somo stood with naked branches, sore and dead. Tho captain whistled an old lar song. Tho poplars always gave him a dismal, uneasy feeling. Ho did not look dismal or uneasy as ho strode along, his keen grey eyes returning from tho familiar fields and hills to look longest at tho little brown house from which ho had taken Lucy. Away boyond tho smooth slope that stretched out before him, tho road turned to tho hills, and there, in a cottage hidden away in drooping elms, Lucy awaited him. Ho know how she would como out to tho gate, with her halting stop, and wait; with tho last sun-rays shining on her brown hair. All day long, while that sun Bhono down hot and blinding, ho had stood on a dizzy scaffolding, making tho timbers ring with his steady hammer. Novor scaffolding had seemed dizzy to tho captain -before. On swaying ropes and reeling masts his oyo had learned to keep its clear gaze true. His hand and foot never trombled ,on the highest ladder. The wind stirred tho dark poplars. Tho captain looked at a tall, majestic tree, rising on a littlo knoll, distinct against tho glowing west. It rose, stately and green, far up, but at tho very top a withered branch crown ed tho fair column. Tho next tree, with its thin, skeleton branches, was a grim spectre of what tho towering monarch soon would bo. Tho captain shivered. Ho was glad when ho had reached tho gate, aud Lucy's smile had sent the black shadows flying from his brow. Ho laughed at them now, ovor tho cheery littlo table, and told hor his strange fancy. uJDo you know, littlo wife, that your hus band is getting foolish in his old age?" Lucy looked at tho captain's clear oyos, and his brown chooks whoro a touch of rod showod through tho tan. She laughed such a morry littlo laugh 1 Tho captain looked at his strong right hand. "It was a crazy notion, Lucy, but 1 imaginod that my hand tromblod as I hold tho hammor." Lucy's face soborod. "Vcryllkoly it did, Dennis. You are tired. You havo beon at work for two weeks now, and it is no wonder that trusty hand is getting woary. You must take better care of it." And sho stroked tho hard, brown fingers gontly. "It is strange," said sister Martha, "why that trembling continues." It was Thanks giving day, and John and Martha always came to spend it with tho captain and Lucy. Lame Lucy would always be a "homo wife," tho captain had said, and a dear homo wifo John and Martha found hor. Thoy sat about the little polished stove such a little stove that made such a great fire and listened to ono of the captain's stories. It was tho usual finishing touch to a morry evening. When tho captain was unusually merry, ho ended with a performance that he called a "South Sea Island jig." Ho executed the feat tonight, whistling Yankee Doodle as an appropriate accompaniment. But sister Martha looked grave when sho and John walked homo in tho starlight, with tho captain's "good night" ringing in thoir oars. "Did you notice," she said, "that Lucy does not pour Dennis' cup nearly full?" "What of that, Martha?" "I think Dennis could not hold it steady." "Why, Martha, you aro getting fidgety as an old woman. Dennis was never jollier in his life than tonight. If ho woro a drinking man, thoro might bo somo cause for alarm. That nervous twitching will soon go ovor."