The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1871-05-02
" z r Y e Q O T..

A mountain trail--a narrow, tortrDiis.
difficult path Two miners, with their
estates tied up in ropes and SLING across
their backs scrambling YEARLY up tt
Just at the steepcst part tile foremost
halted short. turned about, Deliberately
unslnng his pack, atidown upon it and
sighed. As he looked upon the green
expanse of the valley below. to the
brown majesty of the opposite mountain
range, and over into the fathomless
ether beyond; look not of earth crept
into his eyes, impressing his face with
something of the glory of transfigura.
ton. His companion, rough and hard
though he was, observed the change, and
appeared to have some vnpne and i'm
perfect idea of its nature, for without
word he grounded his own baggage, and
sat himself thnnghtfully on rock. For
some time the two maintained silence
which was intensified rather than bro-
ken by the Just dis.inguishable murmur
Of the river thousand feet below. The
wind whispered its eternal secret to the
pines, and the sun flaming erandy
abovc, fling wave after wave against the
hills. which sent back faint impulsations
OF heat. rs il were an echo.
Jim and the voice Of the miner
was cliokcd and husky, as if troubled in
its lower depths by some struggling
Jim, we two'ye been good
frienas-ain't we?"
Whether it was because he did not
thoroughly kaow what was coming, and
SO declined to commit himself, or wheth.
er lie had delicate consciousness chat
70 reply TO such a question would imply
g mlsconstruction of its purpcrt, Jim
maintained grave silence, merely shift.
ing his great hands alternately, and one
above the other upon the vertical handle
OF his pick The uncertain liehtSin the
eyes of the speaker grew by impercep-
ceptible degrees into positive gleam of
intense longing, as he continued:
"Jim, I'm not feller 20 ask favofs,
you know that Ever since we two've
been pardners, you've never knowed me
to git man to hold my dust while at
tended to the cards, without my bein'
willin' to hold Sis'n the same Now,
pardner, feel that | cant drift no fur
ther on this level. and / gness I've got
to go down lower But fore go,,I
want you to tell me, honest, who twas
shot me that night at the fandango 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 snufIed out by some one
unteknown to me, is not good thought
to die on. When / get down younder
and they ask me who made this yer hole
in yer back2' I'd like to tell 'em, so't
they could spot him when he comes
Taint no case for human justice; we
haven't got nothing invented yet as'd do
it right to him. And, Jim, don't you
never 60 for bin 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, end seemed struggling
to suppress sob. Finally he asked, in
an almost inaudihle tone: s
"Bill,ar you quite sure you're play.
in out fast 7"
"l'm collin up my 'riata, jim"
GLOW long mout you last yet y
'Not moren ten minutes at the out
side"
Jim Strengthened himself up on his
rock with Jerk.
"Bill, l won't never get after the fell
ler-leastways not till ! commit suicide.
l fred that shot that's doin' for yol.s
Then, half apologetically: 81 didn't
know you then. Bill, or l shouldn't a
shot without singin' out to you that1
was on it."
That extremely moribund miner rose
to his feet; more properly, there was a
vast upheaval of his frame, which seem.
ed 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 a card But in saying what did
about human justice, l ihrowed away
qneen when l knowed / held bower
Jim, l take back that play; I'm after
your scalp, pardnerr'
The spot is still pointed out to the
traveller. pIssl ID