Doubtless, many tales of heroism and devotion could be told of those who have lived on these islands. One of the best known is that of Mrs. Wenner, who, a few years after her marriage, went with her husband and little children to live on Fremont Island. Her husband's health failing, the oversight of the herds fell largely upon her, but she cheerily took up the burden, the while she trained her little ones, and was ever a true companion to him whom she daily saw slipping away. The end came on a dread and fearsome day, while the faithful man who worked for them was detained on the mainland by a raging storm. The children and an incompetent woman could give her little assistance or consolation. There on the lonely, storm-lashed island, with faint-whispered words of love, the dear one closed his eyes forever. Tenderly she cared for his body, and sadly she kept her vigil, replenishing through the long night the two watchfires intended as a signal to those on the mainland. On the night of the second day, the man made his dangerous way back to the island--and with his help she laid the loved husband in his island grave, with no service but the tears and prayers of those who mourned. This is but one story of desolation and sorrow--but the deep, briny waters and the barren, forbidding shores hold in their keeping many suggestions of mystery and of tears. ARGONAUT SAM'S TALE I could a tale unfold, whose lightest word Would harrow up thy soul. --_Shakespeare_. ARGONAUT SAM'S TALE "I panned him out over and over ag'in, But found nary sign of color," Said Argonaut Sam one evening, when, As sitting atop of a box, to some men He was spinning a yarn of the gold-trail. And then, With arms set akimbo, he straightened his back And said: "'Twuz one night in the fifties I know; Ther' kem up the trail frum the gulch jist below A youngish-like feller; but steppin' so slow I heartily pitied him even before I saw his pale brow and heerd the sharp hack Of his troublesome cough, and plain enough lack Of more'n enough power to bring to my door That tremblin' young body. "He hed a small pack-- A blanket an' buckskin--but that wa'nt no lack In them days when notions an' fashions wuz slack; When all a man needed, besides pick an' pan, Wuz a wallet o' leather to tie up his dust--'R a place to git grub-staked (that means to git trust Till he found a good prospeck); an' then he'd put in His very best licks; fur in them days 'twuz sin Fer a man strong o' body, o' wind an' o' limb T' hang erround loafin' all day, 'twuz too thin. "Well, this puny feller hed grin'-stunlike grit, But wuz clean tuckered out when my cabin he hit; 'N fell down a-faintin' jist inside my door-- His eyes set 'n' glassy--he seemed done fer, shore. So I straightened him out, couldn't do nothin' more