lit; 4. 
THE RURAL NEW-YORKER 
1297 
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The Land of Fulfillment II 
= = 
A Story of Homesteading 
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(Continued from page 1065.) 
CHAPTER IX. 
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H E saw Nate’s dark head upon the 
waters, his ghastly face and open, 
staring eyes. Norm poised the rope 
in his hand, which was as steady as 
death itself; he threw it. and it seemed 
to Norm that it had caught tin 1 boy, but 
with a gurgle of the demoniac waters 
Nate sank again—sank the third time, 
and the rope went trailing away over the 
waters. 
Norm pulled and struggled at the 
rope, but it had caught, and Nate 
had gone down, down, for the third 
and last time. Was there no help? Was 
there no way to save his friend, his 
brother from this awful death? Norm 
still wrenched at the rope, but the 
weight that held it was beyond his lift¬ 
ing and he sprang on to a narrow shelv¬ 
ing of the bank, ran back and with a 
mighty plunge, dived beneath the waters. 
They were black, and turbid and roaring, 
but still he sank beneath them, holding 
his breath and forcing himself along be¬ 
neath the flood. Norm’s arm struck 
against something that rasped and tore 
it, reaching to disentangle his arm, his 
hand touched something icy cold, and 
clammy as death, then something wet, like 
hair; with a joyous gripping he caught 
hold of that soft hair, and he held on 
although the weight seemed dragging him 
down so that he could not rise. Norm’s 
chest seemed well-nigh bursting with his 
indrawn breath, but he knew that per¬ 
haps the life of both Nate and himself 
depended upon the holding of his breath 
for an instant more. lie tried to loosen 
the lassoo from Nate’s body, for it had 
really caught him, but he could not do 
it, and finding himself spent, and ready 
to collapse, he loosened his hold and 
swept to the surface, for a breath of 
air. He had kept hold of the rope, and 
driving the picket pin into the crumbling 
shale, he began to wind the rope in. It 
came very slowly and heavily, but it 
came, and Norm knew the precious bur¬ 
den that was weighting it down. Could 
he never get that body to the surface? 
Would it be beyond all hope, if he did? 
Wild thoughts flung through his brain, 
but Norm had not lived in a lake coun¬ 
try for naught. He remembered well the 
resuscitation of one who had lain in the 
water more than an hour, and he had 
heard tales to the effect that persons who 
had been under water for many hours 
were eventually resuscitated. 
Suddenly, upon the bank above arose 
the old familiar lowing of the oxen, and 
looking up, it seemed as though they had 
come in answer to Norm’s prayer for 
help, but in reality, they had found the 
barn door open and had wandered out, 
merely to investigate this mild Spring 
morning. With a rush of joy Norm 
stormed up the bank, fastened the rope 
about the oxen, and giving them a sharp 
slap, bade them forward. The rope cut 
into the tough hide of the team, but still 
they went forward at Norm’s cry of 
command. The rope was long—too long, 
Norm realized, but at last the oxen had 
drawn until it held taut against the shale 
bank, and could not be pulled farther. 
Nate’s body had lodged, but Norm slid, 
slipped, rolled, fell down the slippery 
precipitous bank, followed the rope into 
the water, found Nate lodged against a 
shelf of shale, slackened the rope, and 
with a mighty effort pulled the boy out 
of the water. 
Norm knew that it would be slow and 
difficult to carry his precious burden up 
the bank. He knew that every moment 
was precious, so steadying the inert form 
he bade the oxen go forward again, which 
they did. Long used to absolute obe¬ 
dience, slowly, but surely they drew the 
inert object at the other end of the rope 
up the embankment. The rope sawed 
over the edge of the bank, and Norm 
watched constantly lest the parting 
strands should break. At last the top 
was reached, and with a cry of joy, 
Norm lifted the limp figure in his arms, 
and carried him home. It had all taken 
but a few minutes of real time, but ages 
of agony had gone into it. Quickly he 
laid Nate’s body over a chair and pressed 
the water out of the mouth and nos¬ 
trils. He stripped off the wet clothing 
and wrapped the cold body, in blankets, 
yet warm from his own night’s sleep. 
With a few deft movements, he started 
the fire, and swung the kettle in place, 
thrust some stones on to heat, and then 
began a systematic raising and out throw¬ 
ing on Nate’s arms. How he worked, 
and how he prayed, and how he hoped 
that someone, someone, would come to 
his aid. How long Norm had worked he 
had no idea, but he was giving every 
ounce of himself to the resuscitation of 
his friend, and he was finding no sign of 
life, although he was bravely struggling 
to re-establish respiration. Perhaps it 
was no miracle that Jim Maynard ar¬ 
rived. and perhaps it would have hap¬ 
pened so anyway, but “Halloo, You!’’ 
came Jim’s voice and it sounded to Norm 
like the voice of an angel. “What on 
earth are you doing to Nate?” Jim 
rasped as he saw the ghastly object be¬ 
fore him. Norm had not stopped to 
rather up his clothes and he was almost 
as wet as was Nate himself. “Here, 
let me!” Jim thrust Norm aside and be¬ 
gan working over Nate. But only for a 
few moments did Norm acquiesce. He 
thrust Jim aside. 
“Let me! I must!” he said brokenly. 
And Jim relinquished liis place again. 
“It would take hours and hours to 
get a doctor,” Jim said thoughtfully. 
“But I'll send for one, and I’ll get Hank 
Jones, he knows as much as two doc¬ 
tors and a few women besides. Then 
I’ll see if that drunken Peters has any 
liquor, he went to town yesterday,” and 
Jim was away, and in an incredibly 
short time Hank Jones, strong, gentle, 
and efficient relieved Norm. He was 
followed by many others, curious, anx¬ 
ious, kindly, for all wanted to help the 
boy, who had been well loved, the boy 
who had been helpful, a ready source of 
comfort in all sorts of difficulties, who 
had a mind quick and resourceful in all 
kinds of dilemmas. 
“You fellows 'll have to get out,** 
Hank Jones said quietly. “We must 
give Nate all the air. and all the chance 
there is for him.” So mutely the men 
filed out again. Some wandered off to 
the barn and attended to the chores, 
while others simply stood about outside 
and waited, hoping there might be some¬ 
thing they could do. 
.“You get some dry things on, Norm,” 
Jim commanded, but Norm made no move 
to help himself. Someone thrust a cup 
of hot coffee into Norm’s shaking hand, 
but he would not touch it, until Hank 
spoke: 
“You can’t keep up. Norm, for the 
sake of Nate, take something,” and for 
tlie sake of Nate he did. And all three 
boys worked and worked and worked, 
yet no flickering eye lash, of the water¬ 
logged body, gave evidence of life, and 
yet they worked mightily. After hours 
of work, raising and lowering that inert 
chest by means of artificial respiration. 
Hank paused a moment, and placed the 
slim hands upon the white chest. “I’m 
afraid—we’ve done—all—we can—” he 
said haltingly. 
, “Why you quitter.” flamed Norm, 
men are saved after being in the water 
for many hours—Nate was in only a few 
minutes. I'll never quit: I'll never give 
up until I drop myself.” and Norm 
thrust Hank fiercely aside. 
Hot water bottles, and hot blankets 
were being constantly placed about the 
boy, and much chafing of rough hands 
wore the skin almost from the cold arms 
and limbs, and still they worked. Sud¬ 
denly Norm paused ; suddenly, he almost 
sank to^ the floor. Did an eyelash flut¬ 
ter? "Was there a slight beating of the 
heart? “Norm had watched so intently 
that he could not trust his sight, and he 
turned with pale lips to Jim who was 
standing near, and to Hank, who never 
for a moment relaxed his ministrations. 
“He’s—” Jim stammered and then he 
seemed to be trying to swallow his 
threat. Hank held a litle looking glass 
before Nate’s mouth, and a slight film 
covered it. 
He lives! ’ Hank could hardly enun¬ 
ciate the words. 
“He lives. He lives!” the glad words 
flew from mouth to mouth, and many a 
young heart thrilled with the rapture of 
that moment. The boys who had been 
shut out so peremptorily that morning 
came edging near to the shanty, that they 
might just stand near. They would not 
shut off’ one atom of the blessed oxygen 
from those long dormant respiratory or¬ 
gans, but they stood ready to serve, and 
with uncovered heads as though the re¬ 
suscitation of this almost drowned boy 
had brought them into that Presence 
which calls for reverence. Nate himself, 
breathing faintly, but yet breathing, was 
tucked into a bunk soft by the love of 
all those young homesteaders of the 
plains. Nate slept for long, his breath¬ 
ing gradually becoming stronger and fin¬ 
ally he became dimly conscious. Ho 
half opened his eyes, to find himself in 
Norm’s shanty instead of his own. 
. “Must have fallen asleep over here last 
night,” he whispered, gazing curiously 
about. “I’ve dreamed of everything I 
ever did in all my life'—I’ve done a lot 
of low-down things—but I’m going to be 
white from now on—I’m going—to—be 
—white,” and with this spoken resolve 
Nate lapsed into sleep again. The 
watchers, smiled solemnly and a tear 
rolled down Norm’s white face, but no 
one spoke—they were too full of un¬ 
spoken thanksgiving for any words. 
Nate did not waken again till mid¬ 
night, and then he only roused a little 
to say worriedly” The chickens, Norm! 
There’ll be a flood tomorrow—it's raining 
now—” then a pause—and he added 
“Hear it roar!” 
“It isn’t raining.” Norm answered 
quietly, and he drew the curtain from 
the little window, to show the stars. 
“The stars are shining—the stars—I 
—must have—dreamed—” and then he 
fell asleep quite satisfied. 
The sudden rising of the creek caused 
much damage; bridges were washed 
away, railroad culverts washed away, 
but no loss of life ensued. Some six 
for 
the 
for 
they had 
one who 
them un- 
miles from the place where Nate had 
striven to rescue the chickens, they were 
found upon a little shelf of shale above 
the creek bed, washed there by a high 
tide of water, and left stranded when the 
flood had spent itself, as it did almost as 
soon as the creek itself became open and 
made a channel for the water. The 
chickens were safe enough, 
kept on their perches, and 
found them, fed and cared 
til they were called for. 
With the sudden coming of Spring the 
young homesteaders were as busy as boys 
could be. Nate had rallied rapidly, and 
in a week he was as strong as ever, which 
bore high evidence to the benefit of his 
outdoor life and his simple, wholesome 
living in all ways. There was new ma¬ 
chinery, and new horses and the farm 
work went joyously forward. But this 
year the rains did not come as needed, 
and the crops did not turn out as well, 
and yet, there seemed to be a steady ad¬ 
vancement towards prosperity. Every ex¬ 
pense was calculated, and every necessity 
rigidly brought within the bounds of the 
means they had to meet it. And so the 
days rolled on. The farm upon the crept - 
bank had been a good investment for the 
boys, and yet—and—yet— 
It was the fourth year of their home¬ 
steading. and the crop was the poorest 
they had ever harvested, and yet the crops 
upon adjacent land were good, and the 
grain plump and of good, clean texture. 
“Norm,” said Nate thoughtfully. 
“There’s a big difference in the grain 
yield on our land, and on that of Jim's 
and Hank’s and all the rest.” 
“Our soil is shallow, not deep enough 
for steady cropping,” Norm explained, 
“Sometimes, I've almost thought, perhaps 
we did make a mistake in filing on this 
land. “I was so impractical then—” Nate 
mused—-“But I’ve reaped the harvest I 
came for, and yet, maybe we would have 
done better had we done a little differ¬ 
ently.” 
“Yes, we’ve reaped what we came to find 
—your health—you’re as wiry as a cork¬ 
screw, and you’re like one too; you al¬ 
ways get a pull on what you’re after, 
and you're always after something worth 
while. But there's no mistaking that the 
top soil on Jim Maynard's land is a hun¬ 
dred per cent hotter than that on ours, 
and yet our valley land is the richest I 
ever saw. If we wanted to farm on a 
small scale, and run the risk of a flood, 
we could raise big truck down there. 
But we've absorbed too much of the 
spirit of the country; we’ve got to spread 
out over a big space. I don’t know as 
I ever go out into our fields that I don't 
dig down to see if I can't find a deep 
top soil, with a reasonable subsoil, be¬ 
neath it—” 
“And you find shale,” Nate exploded. 
“We’ve had a glorious experience any¬ 
way,” Norm comforted. Norm struck 
Nate’s chest with a resounding blow, 
“counting that into the profits of the ad¬ 
venture we have made good. You've got 
that filled out with the best air man ever 
had to breathe, and you haven’t got glass 
eyes any longer. You’re eyes used to 
look like glittering chunks of ice with 
a fire behind them. You’re cheeks aren't 
painted every morning with a hectic rose, 
and you haven't any more cheek bones 
just now, than any other fellow who’s 
as wiry as you are.” As Norm enumer¬ 
ated these things, Nate’s dejection swung 
away like a barn door in a high wind. 
“I do forget sometimes—” Nate apol¬ 
ogized. “But this bed of shale has been 
worth more than most folks see. We’ll 
make good; we'll make better; we’ll 
prosper.” 
“Of course we’ll prosper; unless a man 
is quite a fool, he can't help but pros¬ 
per here. If we can’t raise wheat we 
can raise cattle—this is more a cattle 
country anyway—and after we get our 
patents on this land, we can go away or 
do anything we please, we are not tied 
here.” 
(To be 
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