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Updated: June 24, 2025
Then the disordered interval between had fled to the limbo of forgotten things. Mic-co heard his story to the end without comment. He was silent so long that Carl grew uncomfortable. "Since Keela was a little, wistful, black-eyed child," said Mic-co at last, "I have been her teacher. We have worked very hard together. Peace came to me through her."
"Glooms of the live oaks, beautiful-braided and woven With intricate shades of the vines that myriad-cloven Clamber the forks of the multiform boughs, " What vivid memories it awoke of the morning the swamp had revealed to him the island home of Mic-co!
"She has a marvelous gift in modeling," said Carl. "I know a famous young sculptor whose work is nothing like so virile. Might not something utterly new and barbaric come of it with proper direction? If she could interpret this wild life of the Glades from an Indian viewpoint " "I have frequently thought of it," agreed Mic-co. "You would help her, Carl?" "Yes."
Mic-co thought of a white-faced young fellow who had stubbornly refused to accept his hospitality, one morning beneath the live oaks, until he might name aloud his offenses in the sight of God and Man. This man before him, sweeping rapidly into the black gulf of delirium, was of a different caliber.
"Are you man or saint," he cried at last, "that you can forgive as I have seen your eyes forgive to-night?" "May a man look upon such remorse as that," asked Mic-co, "and not forgive? I loved him greatly.
Now with Diane's permission to probe its secret if, indeed, it had one like its charred companion he was fretting again, as he had intermittently fretted in the lodge of Mic-co, at the train of circumstances that had interposed delay. Train and taxi were perniciously slow. Carl found his patience taxed to the utmost.
Like the white student of books, I know many curious things that he has taught me." "And your name?" asked Diane, heroically mastering her mystified confusion. "May I may I not know that too?" "Shock-kil-law," came the ready reply. "That readily becomes Keela!" exclaimed Diane smiling. The girl nodded. "So Mic-co has said. And so indeed he calls me." "Tell me, Keela, what does it mean?"
Here upon the following morning Diane and Keela parted for the Indian girl was pledged to return to the lodge of Mic-co. "Six moons, now," she explained with shining eyes, "I stay at the lodge of Mic-co, my foster father. When the Falling Leaf Moon of November comes, I shall still be there, living the ways of white men." She held out her hand.
Now Philip had wisely waited for the inevitable readjustment, trusting entirely to Mic-co, but with the memory of Carl's haggard face and haunted eyes, he was unprepared for the lean, tanned, wholly vigorous young man who sprang to meet him. "Well!" said Philip. "Well!" He was shaken a little and cleared his throat, at a loss for words. "You you infernal dub!" said Carl.
There was young corn on the fertile island to the east. Over the chain of islands lay the promise of early summer. There was a curious drone overhead as they neared the lake. "Look!" exclaimed Carl. "A singular sight, Mic-co, for these island wilds of yours." An aeroplane was whirring noisily above the quiet lake, startling the bluebills floating about on the surface.
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