Buchanan County bulletin. [volume] (Independence, Iowa) 1869-1891, 1871-04-28
Tho Grizzly Papers.
From the Overland for March.

The Grizzly Papers.
From the Overland for March.
A mountain trail-a narrow, tor
tuous, difficult path. Two miners,
with their estates tied up in ropes
and slung across their backs,
scrambling wearily up it. Just at
the steepest part, the foremost hal
ted short, turned about, deliberately
unslung his pack, sat down upon
it and sighed. AS he looked across
the green expanse of the valley be-
low, to the brown majesty Of the
mountain range, and over into the
fathomless ether beyond, a look not
Of earth crept into his eyes, inflam-
ing his face with something of the
glory of the TRANSPORTATION. His
companion, rough and hard though
ne was, observed the charge and
appeared to have some vague and
imperfect idea of its nature, for
without word, he grounded his
own luggage, and sat himself
thoughtfally upon a rock. For
some time the two maintained a
silence which was intensified rather
than broken by the just distinguish
able murmur Of the river a thousand
feet below. The wind whispered
its 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.
"Jim''- the voice of the
miner was choked and husky, as if
troubled in its lower depths by
some struggling emotion-"Jim we
two have been good fricnds-ain't
we?"
Whether it was because he did
not thoroughly know what was
coming, and SO declined to commit
himself, or whether he had a deli
cate consciousness that to reply to
such a question would imply a
misconstruction ofits purport. Jim
maintaining 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 imperceptible
degrees into positive CLEAN of
intense longing, as he continued:
"Jim, I'm not a feller to ask
favors; you know that. Ever since
we two've been pardners, you've
never knowed me to get a man to
hold my dust while 1 attended to
the cards, without my bein' willing
to hold his'n the same. Now pard-
ner l feel that can drift no further
on this level, and l guess I've got
to 60 down lower. But afore / go,
l want you to tell me, honest, who
twas shot ME that night at the
tandango over to Spanish Camp.
The thought that l was fired into by
some stranger who wasn't takin' no
hand, and come near havin' my
light snuffed out by some one un-
knowns to me, is not a good thought
to die on. "Whcn l get down yon-
der, and they ask me who made
this yer hole in my back?' I'd like
to tell 'em, so't they could spot him
when he comes. 'Tain't no case
for human justice; we hayn't got
nothin' invented yet as'd do it right
to him. And Jim, don't you never
60 for him yourself; that mans too
mean for kiln" The dying man
ceased, but Jim bowed his head
lower and lower over the pick
handle in silence, and seemed
struggling to suppress a sob. Finally
he asked, in an almost inaudible
tone:
"Bill, are you quite sure you're
a-playin' out fast2''
"I'm a-coilin' up my riate, jim
allow long mout you last yet?"
''Not more'n ten minutes at the
outside"
Jim Strengthened himself up on q
a rock with a Jerk:
"Bill, / won't never get after the
feller-least-ways, not till l commi,
suicide. l fred that shot that's
a doin' for you"' Then, half apol-
ogetically: 81 didn't know then
Bill, or l shouldn't shot without
singin' out to YOU that / was or
it,"
That extremely moribund miner
rose to his feet; more properly, there
was vast upheaval Of his frame
which seemed to expand at every
point rs it finally lowered alott like
blasted cedar.
'Jim," he famed out, ''board's a
fair play; ever since We two've beer
pardners you never knowed me to
take back a card. But in saying
what | did about human justice,
throwd away queen when
knowed l held bower. Jim, l take
back that play; I'm after your scalp
pordmer.'
The spot is still pointed out te
the traveller.