The Argosy, Vol. 76, No. 3 — page 166: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

636 promontory and was seen no more that night. For there was no seed on the island. Meta sat beside me and cried softly. “An empty place!’’ she mourned hys- terically. ‘‘ Nothing will ever be born here or grow or live!”’ And as she wept scalding tears One Hop stepped silently into the circle and held out, as he stooped before her, a single grain of corn. Mrs. Evans’s shrill laughter rang horribly out into the night, and her shriek sounded to the very stars: | “My God! My God! One seed! One seed!” - She collapsed into Evans’s arms, her pallid face to the inexorable heavens. But Meta Braun cuddled the irregu- lar grain in her soft palm, and there was a light in her eyes such as I had never seen except in'a mother’s gaze. I could barely catch her whisper: “ It will live!” One Hop laid his yellow, wrinkled finger-tip gently on the grain of corn. “Bimeby bread, littee missee.” “Yes, yes!”’ she assented eagerly. “Where you ketchum, Hop?” “ Pocket ol’ clo’, missee. bread.” ' Nelson bent his brows and shook his head. “I know how you feel about it, Miss Braun. But it’s only one seed.” She folded the grain in her hand- kerchief and said quietly: “It must grow.” And it did, and its growing brought God into an empty house. IV. THE next morning when Rolf An- erson came back to the camp and was told of the discovery of the single grain of corn, he smiled sardonically and devoted himself in silence to his salmon. But Meta Braun, after a long con- versation with One Hop, departed to a little nook under the low crest of the islet. I found her busily rubbing into fine dust the scant soil she had dug up with aknife. She had a little rotind plot about three feet in diameter. Bimeby . THE ARGOSY. ““T hope it will grow,” I said awk- wardly. “Oh, Hop and I'll make it grow,” she returned, smiling. ‘* But it will be years before we have anything worth while, even if it does come up and have ears on it. And what of the sunshine? And the soil mayn’t be all right, ¢ither.” At this moment arrived the Chinese, carrying a pail of water and a piece of canvas. ‘Together they prepared the bed for the solitary grain, and then Meta planted it delicately. ““Bimeby bread,” said Hop briefly. And as if this were the sacrament of germination we departed. Thereafter the cook slept and ate by this precious grain. I don’t know what all he and Meta talked of nor how they forced pidgin English into the channels of their ideas. But one morning I found them both kneeling over a small spear of green. When the announcement was made in the camp we made a pilgrimage to the spot. Mrs. Evans, who had refused food, except the oil from the salmon, for two days, became hysterical. Evans himself stolidly supported her on his shoulder, and later he and Anerson carried her back to the shelter. She had fainted. - Ten days later I was amazed to see six shoots in the damp ground. Meta was busy earthing them up. “Where did they come from?” I demanded. ° She slipped over into a sitting pos- ture and smiled down at them. “That’s Hop’s and my secret. But when they are bigger I’ll show you all about it.” . When half a hundred shoots were growing blithely under the warm sun, the camp suddenly awoke. I believe that had it not been for the interest we all took in this bringing of life to the sterile islet none of us would have sur- vived that month. But now Hop and Meta took us partly into their confidence and showed COMicdoo S CO@