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Show CHRISTOPHER LE COURIER. How a Raven Became a Carrier of , Messages. "What can be keeping- Pierre so late tonight?" said a stout, sunburned woman, wo-man, with a colored handkerchief around her head, who was standing at the door of a log- hut, on a small rocky islet in the middle of the Rhone. "I do hope nothing- has happened to him; he's so terribly venturesome since he got a' boat of his own." "Pooh, pooh!" answered her husband cheerily. "He'll come back all right; never fear. It's only proper that? my ! boy should be a ferryman like his father. And so he must learn to man-' man-' age a boat betimes. See, yonder he comes, rowing like a boatman!" i "But whatever has he brought with him?" cried Madame Lenoir, in amazement. amaze-ment. What, indeed? At first sight, the sturdy little 12-year-old, who came skimming toward them across the broad shining stream, appeared to be wearing a huge, black overcoat, torn almost in two. But a second glance showed the ! object to be a raven nearly as big as himself, which hung loosely over his shoulder, as if either dead or badly hurt. "See what I've got mother!" cried he, glee-fully. "I found it in the wood yonder, yon-der, with its wing broken. At first it snapped at me, and .wouldn't let me : touch it, but it's quiet enough now. Isn't it a line big one?' "Oh. you dreadful boy!" cried his mother. "What do you think we're go ing to do with a great, ugly thing like ' that about the house? And who's going go-ing to feed it, pray?" "Why, mother, you know you always say that this house of ours on the island is-land is just like an ark; and Noah had a raven in his ark that he used to send flying about, and why shouldn't we? Besides, we can teach him to carry messages for us, like that one that Father Gregoire told us about the other day." "Well, there's something- in that," said Jean Lenoir, laughing; and as for feeding, a raven can pick up his own living any day: and besides, we have aiways plenty of odds and ends of fish. Bring him in. my boy. we'll see what can be done with him." The' broken wing soon heajed, and in a few months Pierre's raven named "Christopher," - in honor of the ferry-man's-patron saint had become famous throughout the whole country side. Many a bright silver franc did Pierre pick up at the country fairs by making the bird go through the tricks he had taught it; and when once it had learned to carry messages, the ' people along the river gave it so many that the postman post-man used often to threaten it jokingly joking-ly with a summons before the magistrate magis-trate for taking away his business. Even Pierre's mother g-jt reconciled to the "great, ugly thing" Jat last; more especially as the good priest of the parish, Father Gregoire, was very fond of it, and never came to see them w ithout ith-out brinsrinsr something good in his pocket for -"our friend Christopher." Sometimes, indeed, as soon as the : kind clergyman's black cassock and broad hat were seen on the opposite bank, little Pierre would point thither, and call out: "Food, Christopher!" I And the raven, shooting like an arrow across the river, would perch on tho priest's shoulder, and thrust his great black bill into the old pocket in search of food which he was always sure to find there. So matters went till one night in the early spring, when Jean Lenoir, com-'ing- home tired after a hard clay's work, paused for a moment as he got out of his boat, to notice a strange, leaden dimness that overhung' the hills along the eastern sky. "It must be raining hard up in the mountains," said he to himself, and then thought no more about it. But at daybreak next morning he was awakened from a dream of being j at sea in a storm, which seemed j strangely real even after he was broad awake. Doors were banging, windows j rattling, timbers creaking and groan- i ing, mingled with a roaring and dash- I ing as if a Niagara had been let loose i close to his ear. Hardly knowing what he did, he sprang to the door and threw it open, and instantly started back as if he had been shot. The water was within a foot of the door sill! , Worse still, it was plainly rising higher every moment. The Rhone, swollen by the heavy rains and the sudden melting of the mountain snows had burst its- banks and come down in full flood, driven by such a gale as had not blown in those parts since the great storm ten years before. All sorts of things went whirling past on the yellow foam drowned sheep, hurdles, beams, boxes and uprooted trees, upon one of j which crouched a poor little shivering : dog, wailing piteously for help that no j one could give. ) Jean's first thought was for his boat; I but both it and the shed in which it j was. moored was gone as if they had I never been. Sick at heart he clambered clam-bered up into the loft after his wife and son, just as the water come flooding flood-ing in over the door sill. I I Meanwhile an anxious crowd had I j gathered on the opposite bank, eager to help the imperiled family on the island. is-land. But how was this, to be done? No boat could live in that boiling Hood, and it seemed hopeless to thing of getting get-ting a rope across. I The strongest man could not fling a stone so far. A kite would be instantly torn to shreds by the wind, and they ' had no means of sending across either I an arrow or a bullet. Poor Father Gregoire ran wildly from man to man, imploring them to save his friends, and meeting everywhere every-where the same despairing shake of the head. And. still the water rose higher and higher and higher. Suddenly Pierre put his mouth close to his father's ear and screamed with all his might through the deafening1 roar: "Father! Christopher!" Catching his son's idea in a moment, the ferryman hastily rummaged out a roll of stout twine, one end of which he knotted to a strong- rope, while Pierre fastened the other round the leg of his bird, which was, indeed, about to become be-come in terrible earnest what they had often called it in jest, "the raven sent forth from the ark." "Food, Christopher!" shouted the boy, pointing: to the opposite shore; and instantly the. raven outpread its broad, banner-like wings and flew forth into the storm, while a. stifled cry broke forth from the gazing- crowd as they watched its flight. Twice all seemed lost, as poor Christopher Chris-topher was almost beaten down into the raging waters beneath: but the brave bird persevered, and catching a momentary lull in the fury of the storm, struggled across the deadly 1 space and fell exhausted upon the bank, i A -stout farmer sprang forward to seize the cord tied to the bird's leg, and I instantly half a dozen eager hands i were at work hauling in the rope attached at-tached to it. Communication being thus established with the island, the rest was easy, and in less than half an hour three Crusoes in the ferryman's hut were drawn safely ashore, just as the whole house fell crashing into the swollen river, which whirled away the j strong timbers like straws. . After this the bold raven became a greater favorite than ever, and from that day everyone called him "Christopher "Christo-pher le 'Courier." |