Vermont phÅ“nix. [volume] (Brattleboro, Vt.) 1834-1955, 1870-08-19
ny THE C.E.uP FIRE.
BY ELLIS YETTE.

We made good time that day, and when
the sun set we camped in the shadows of
Virginia Dale. There were hundreds of
miles between us and the Sierras-leagues
of sage brush, alkali and drifting sand but
the summer had only just opened, and we
were well on our way. The days were not
yet at their longest, but we had made thir-
ty-five miles since sunrise and we took
eare of the stock and turned in to supper
with the pleasing consciousness that we
had done we'll.
We were motley group; old miners,
two or three trappers, half dozen "tender-
feet enjoying their experience of western
life-a few half breeds, and the usual num-
Der of "mule-skinners."
This was several years ago, and do not
mind admitting that was one of the "ten-
der feet" to whom everything was won-
derful, and the Rocky mountains the acme
OF earthly nIagnificence. I was deeply i'm
pressed with the grandeur of these western
solitudes, and delighted with the wild new
world which was opening at every step.
Then, too, l was surrounded with men of
whose life and habits knew as little as If
they had been Esquimaux and in spite of
its hardships and dangers, it was most
delightful summer
Our plan OF travel was to be on the way
soon after daylight; and, as the sun grew
stronger, to lie by for three or four hours
in the middle of the day, and continue our
journey until long after the moon had ris-
en-. But the day on which we reached
Virginia Dale had been rather cloudy, and
we had been able to travel until sunset.
and then camp in the shadow of its Won
derful rocks.
By the time supper was over 1t was quito
dark, and we heaped brush on the camp
fire, and lounged around it, smoking, tell
ing stories, or going to sleep. I lit cigar,
and managed by the Pickering light to ar
range few flowers / had gathered and
was pressing for-some one at home.
was trying to make the flowers stay In a
good position against the leaf, when a shad-
ow came between me and the fire, and a
rough voice said
"Suthin' for the women folks, reckon ?"
"Yes," I answered, closing the book "I
promised my sister to bring her some flow
ers from the Rockies"
"Humph young man, ye needn't blush
so for your sister, an to an old chap like
mep'
1 offered him cigar.
Don't care of do; your terbaccer's al
lers first-rate."
"Of course, it came from home," I said,
with a little sigh, thinking of some one in
that home, which just then seemed a long
way off.
The old man looked up wistfully.
"Ef yeve got home, set a heap of store
by it, young man faint every one that
has,"
1t was quiet about the fire now, and
had been thinking of home, and was in
rather a softened mood but l was sur
prised to hear "Indian Bill" famous for
his hunting and wild exploits) speak In
that gentle tone.
/ smoked on in silence.
81 never had any home, T. speak Of" he
continued, after short pause, IAN more's
the pity but l feel 's ef every youngster
like you who's got home an women
folks to caro- for, oughter think a heap on
'em."
"Yos," l rcplied,'"I know how much
they are worth, now l am so far away, and
feel as though / could die in their de-
fence.'
"Dyin' IS all very fine," said Indian Bill,
dryly, knocking the ashes from his cigar,
"but folks amt often called on TO die fur
folks-leastwise not where you was raised
and bein' kind an keerful of 'em every
day g more count sometimes than all yer
dyin'. Ye may have wife and home oi
yer own some day yo II do well to think
ont"
"God grant itp / said softly.
The fro was deadening little, and b Ill
gathered the falling brands, put on fresh
wood, and sat down again In the glare OF
tho flames.
~ dunno what brought II to mind" he
began again, "but I've been thinking OF
suthin' that happened onst, when | was
crossin' few years ago."
Something that happened to your" ]
asked.
"Not TO me, but TO some women folks In
our train. 1 haint thought ont before for
a good spell, an dunno why I do now
only twas nigh this time o. year, and jest
sich night as this"
Suppose you tell me about it," / sug-
gested, as j threw away the stump Of my
n