The Bloomfield times. [volume] (New Bloomfield, Pa.) 1867-187?, 1872-02-20

cd the name his father and mother gave
him.
With the events of the ensuing years up
to '57, Cap and dawn are inseparably asso-
ciated. In '51, Cap, having accumulated
sufficient quantity of "dust," bought Sam
Crummels interest in the store, and
came to live with our family-a delight to
at least two of its members. He was one
of those men specially created for the de-
| light of children. He assisted in our home
studies and joined in our games. In the
evening, until bed time, he would relate the
most captivating stories, every one contain
ing some useful information. He did not
go much among men, they all seemed to
hold him in deep respect-father said fear;
but could not understand why any one
should be afraid of him.
In '53, while listening to the stories of
two old miners, who were "going over" the
old times again, learned why they feared
him, and then heard that Caps hand had
taken the lives of two men-one in the
summer of 40, and one during the spring
of the year we arrived.
During the conversation, learned, also,
that he took vengeance only after he had
forborne to notice insult and abuse, and not
until pistols were drawn and his life at
tempted.
The years passed into 81. was then
nineteen-Dawn fifteen. All the vows i'm
aginable had passed between us, and we
were engaged.
1t was long before I understood the mu-
tual devotion existing between Cap and
Dawn. The simple, demonstrative freedom,
and utter absence of all embarrassment, in
her demeanor towards him, rendered even
thoughts of jealousy impossible to me.
Dawn, now in womanhood very beautiful,
would at times, in one of her strange moods
throw her arms about Caps neck, in the
old, girlish way, and lie still upon his broad
breast, often until she slept. He would
then place her carefully upon the most con-
venient resting place, and walk away with
ont word-only look of deep peace and
happiness upon his face.
The months of that year hurried on to a
fearful day in our lives-a terrible one in
the history Of that communicative 25th
of August 1 remember it as the one
memorable day in my life, into which the
emotions of an ordinary life time were
crowded in strangest confusion.
The night before, Dawn had given away
to one of her fits of passionate grief for
some reason not known to me then, and
sought her usual resting place for consola-
| tion.
Father and mother had long looked upon
these demonstrations with uneasiness AL
though satisfied for themselves that Cap
was as free from evil thoughts as Dawn,
yet neither having taken the trouble to con-
ceal their feelings from the neighbors, pry-
ing people questioned the propriety of a
girl at Dawn's age showing her affection in
so unmistakable a manner for man then
not more than forty, and not looking that
by ten years.
A number Of families had, by this time,
settled in the place, and without consider
ing consequences, whispers of "immodest, "
"brazen," "bad," circulated so freely
around the small circle that we could not
help catching breath of the poison breeze.
That night, after Dawn had satisfied her
real or imagined grief with abundant tears
and sighs, mother went to her and had a
long talk; while her father and Cap, after
closing up time, were closeted in the sitting
room until very late.
The result was not very satisfactory; for
the next morning, while Cap sat at break
fast, cloud over the pleasant features,
Dawn came in, looking white and weary,
and, with a sudden impulsive movement,
leaped over, taking his temples between
her soft palms, and pressed the beautiful
lips upon his up-turned forehead, then slow
ly walked to the open door and stood there
with folded arms and dropping head
was not so blinded by passion for Dawn
but that some common sense remained; and
knowing, as could not fail to know, what
had occurred the night before, this last act
was like poisoned arrow. Yet passing up
street few minutes later, and overhearing
Big Jack, the monte dealer, (standing just
in front of Tex's saloon, with his back
toward mel remark to Pretty Andy, "that
Dawn Barker was little loose" the
back Of my open hand went against his
mouth with force enough to jostle cooked
derringer from his coat pocket.
When he turned toward me, the express
sion of his countenancc changed instantly