Watertown republican. [volume] (Watertown, Wis.) 1860-1906, 1871-05-24
Very Cool.
From the Overland Monthly.

Amountain trail-a narrow, tortuous,
difficult path. Two miners, with their
estates tied up in ropes and slung
across their backs scrambling YEARLY
up it. just at the steepest part the
foremost halted short, turned about,
deliberately unslung his pack, sat
down upon it and sighed. As he look
ed across the green expanse of the val
ley below, 20 the brown majesty of the
opposite range, and over into the faith
omless ether beyond, a look not of
earth crept into his eyes, impressing
his face with something of the glory
of the TRANSPORTATION. His companion,
rough and hard, though he was, OBJ
served the change, and appeared to
have some vague and imperfect idea of
it's nature; for, without word, he
grounded his own baggage and sat him
self thoughtfully upon rock. For
some time the two maintained a ST.
lence which was intensified rather than
broken by the just distinguishable
murmur of the river 1000 feet below.
The wind whispered it's eternal secret
to the pines, and the sun, flaming
grandly above, flung wave after wave
of light against the hills, which sent
back faint pulsations of heat as it were
an echo.
finland the voice of the miner
was choked and husky, as if troubled
in it's lower depths by some struggling
emotion" Jim, we two've been good
friends-ain't we2''
Whether it was because he did not
thoroughly know what was coming, and
declined to commit himself, or whether
he had a delicate consciousness that to
reply to such a question would imply a
misconstruction of it's purport, Jim
maintained a grave silence, merely
shifting his great hands alternately, the
one above the other, upon the vertical
handle of his pick. The uncertain
light in the eyes of the speaker grew,
by imperceptjble degrees, into a posi-
tive CLEAN of intense longing as he
continued:
"J1m, I'm not Teller to ask favors !;
you know that Ever since we two've
been pardners, you've never knowed
me to git man to hold my dust while
[ attend to the cards, without my bein'
willen' to hold his'n the same. Now,
pardner, I feel that I can't drift or fur
ther on this level, and I guess I've got
to go down lower. But fore I go, I
want you to tell me, honest, who twas
shot me that night at the fandango
over to Spanish Camp. The thought
that [ was fired into by some stranger
who wasn't takin' no hand, and come
near havin' my light snuffed out by
some one unbeknown to me, is not a
good thought to die on. When I get
down yonder, and they ask me who
made this yer hole in yer back2' I'd
like to tell 'em, soft they could spot
him when he comes. faint no case
for human Justice; we haven't got no.
thing invented yet as'd do right to him.
And, Jim, don't you never go for him
yourself; that mans too mean for kill
In" The dying man ceased, but Jim
bowed his head lower and lower over
the pick handle in silence, and seemed
struggling to suppress sob. Finally
he asked, in all almost inaudible tone :
"Bill, are you quite sure you're
playin' out fast?"
I'm collin up my RATA, JIM"
How long mout you last yet 2"
Not more'n ten minutes at the out
SIDE"
Jim Strengthened himself upon his
rock with q jerk
Bill, 1 won't never get after that
feller-least ways, not till I commit
suicide. I fired that shot that's a-doin
for you'll" Then half apologetically :.
81 didn't know you then, Bill, or I
shouldn't have shot without singin' out
to you that / was on it."
That extremely moribund miner rose
to his feet; more properly, there was
a vast upheaving of his frame, which
seemed to expand at every point as it
finally lowered aloft like blasted
cedar.
Jim he famed out, "board's
fair play; and ever since we two've
been pardners you never knowed me to
take back card. But in saying what
[ did about human justice / throwed
away queen when I knowed I held
bower. Jim, [ take back that play
I'm after your scalp, pardner ~
The spot is still pointed out to the
travaI1ar