Central High School - Mirror Yearbook (Birmingham, AL)

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ASTRAKA LITERARY S'OCIKTV

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uhcn it was near the end. something like sadness crept into that immobile lace. Something glistened in his eyes. I played on. I put all the soul that was in me into that music. The silent one before me seemed to understand what the violin was saying. II the pathos of a million years looked out from his face. Then he closed his eyes and stretched out his arms in silent appeal. When I had finished 1 stood looking at him in wonder. That face! Where had 1 seen it before? The deep lines! the crooked nose! the high cheek hones! Deep down in my heart there awoke yearnings that had never been there before. 1 went hack through all my life and the face seemed to have a place there. Vet. I could not remember. t last he rose and faced me in Silence. • ’l don' know how I can tank you. Ilut I wan t ank you jus' same.' ' (), that's all right. I am glad to he of service to you. Ilut would you mind telling me why you wished me to play for you?’ • '.Me he Indian. You seem to understan ! You play so good. To’splain by I wan' you play would take long time and von he in hurry. “I was interested, so I told him to go on. ‘Many moons ago when my tribe was free we fin little hoy with music maker lak you have. e carry him through the forests with us to ol Manitoba. Then when they put us on reservation they teach our little boy to play music box. Then they take him to Governor's house to play music box for he play so good. When he come hack to us he sit by fire at night an play for us. lak you play for me. Then come pale-face who say he is hoy’s father. e hav to give him up. e hate to see him go. I love hoy lak father. He say I mus go. loo. So. they take me 'long as servant. We go far 'way. Then we live in city of many people. The boy. he grow he big hoy. I no see him much for he go ‘bout and play in what you call it- -t eater. All is happy ior while. 'I hen come trouble. The man be say I mus' take hoy way . Then I steal hov. I take him and lose him in snows of Sasktachewan. Then I go hack to city an man he pay me much money for w hat 1 do. Then I fin' out truth.' Then my mind, too, went hack many days. I saw a shivering hoy wandering aimlessly over the frozen snows. Then I saw the boy rescued by Kskimos. In his arms he held a cherished violin. The old man continued. ‘“Then man lie say hoy’s mother was Indian squaw. He say she dead main moons. He say boy was had hoy . That was why I took him to lan’ oi snow spirit. I believe man an' stay with him. Then many days pass an man he get sick, lie call me. Then he tell me reason he wan' hoy. He wan’ much money hoy gon’ get when he get gro.vn. Now he sick an' nearly to happy huntin' groun's. lie wan' boy. He tell me to give papers t«» boy when I fin' him. I inns’ not stop, he say. till I fin' boy. I mus’ go on till 1 fin’ boy. I mus’ give hoy heap big papers. Hut I no tin' boy. I no tin' where he gone. I go hack to Saskatchewan an follow one boy to great river in 'laska. Then I aim os’ die when I get squeezed in ice. Hut 1 get well an' go on. I go many moons. I no tin' hoy. I alums' give up. Hut then 1 tink of way we treat hoy. I go many miles. Then I look in man’s papers to r-ee what they say of man. There ! tin' picture of Indian squaw. 1 alums fall. It was my daughter who marry white man of city. Then I see I nuts' «iK nineteen

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 jo on. No longer I look for master's hoy, hut I look for my daughter's son. If I only could fin' him all would he well. W e could go hack. ‘Then I come to this city and see your picture outside. I see picture of your music box. Then I 'member how hoy use play for us. You seem to undcrstan I ask man ilex' me what you play. He say ‘Indian Lament.' Then my heart get full. 1 cry. Then I come see you. hat you play is v. hat 1 would lak to say. Hut 1 no can say. You make me 'member days of many moons ago. And you make me 'member when we lie free. I'm ol Indian, now. But I mus' fin' hoy. Can you an your music box help me fin' hovr I mus’ fin him. I love him lak son! The gray head sank on the heaving chest. lie wiped his eyes. “‘Mcenatah! O, Meenatah, don't you know me?’ He looked up at me in amazement. ‘Grandfather, it is I. your son. Don’t you know me? Then a smile of supreme happiness spread over his face and his eyes gleamed through the mist that covered them, lie rushed into mv open arms. An hour later the manager of the theatre came to me and asked if I were going home. Meenatah accompanied me to my hotel. “Hut our happiness was short lived. Every place that I went the old Indian went. too. Weakened by age. the strain was too much for him. I left him in a hospital in Montreal and continued my tour, fter my concert in Cincinnati, two weeks later, I received a telegram signed by Hr. I.e Rogue, saving that Meenatah was dying. ‘‘I caught the next train north. In four days I was at the bedside of my faithful friend. 1 had my violin, lie smiled as he recognized me. In a weak voice he asked me to play for him. I began to play the ‘Indian’s Lament.' ilis features brightened and he seemed to be carried along with the music. s I played a mist crept into my eyes. I could see the old man through my tears. His eyes were closed, but the sad smile was on his lips . When I finished, his face had that peacefulness that comes to those that live lives of unexampled faithfulness, and when I laid my violin aside Meenatah had found rest. No tempest could ruffle the feathers of his war bonnet. No wild cry of hatred could waken his soul with an answering call to battle. “That was two weeks ago. To-morrow, I leave for Montreal to erect a memorial to my grandfather. To him life was a fitful dream. His sleep came with his waking. He probably did not know another God other than his (ireat Spirit. Hut, to-night 1 know that God in his mercy will know that his goul was faithful to the end. lie found his Great Spirit had prepared a glorious wigwam for him on the happy hunting grounds. Now, he is at rest. All is well. 1, too, am an Indian and I have had my lament. To-night I played for the last time ‘The Indian's Lament.' The Indian no longer laments. He is at rest. Then Mainst arose and in silence went into the next room. The place was deserted save for the few who sat gazing vacantly into the lire. After a few minutes, the soft sound of a violin was heard in the next room. Now soft and low the sound floated out into the silent air and filled all the room. Then came the wild cries of war! Then all was peace. Then came the Pave Itrrnlr-one