The Elk County advocate. [volume] (Ridgway, Pa.) 1868-1883, 1872-03-07

yes, Christmas, and to-night's Christ
mos Eve. Ye see, boys, kinder thought
that is, I sorter had an idee, jest pass
in like you know-that may be ye'd all
like to come over to my house tonight
and have a sort of tear round. But 1
suppose now, you wouldn't Don't
feel like it, may be!" he added with anx-
ious sympathy, peering into the faces
of his companions.
"Well, 1 don't know" responded Tom
Flynn, with some cheerfulness "P'r'aps
we may. But how about your wife, Old
Man What does she say to it 7"
The Old Man hesitated. His conjugal
experience had not been happy one,
and the fact was known to Simpsons Bar.
His first wife, delicate, pretty little
woman, had suffered keenly and secret
ly from the jealous suspicious of her hus-
band, until one day he invited the whole
Bar to his house to expose her infidelity.
On arriving, the party found the shy,
petite creature quietly engaged in her
household duties, and retired abashed
and discomftted. But thssensitive wo-
man did not easily recover from the
shock of this extraordinary outrage. 1t
was with difficulty she regained her
equanimity sufficiently to release her
lover from the closet i'll which he was
concealed and escape with him. She
left boy of three years to comfort her
bereaved husband. The Old Mans pre-
sent wife had been his cook. She was
large, loyal and aggressive.
Before he could reply, Joe Dimmicll
suggested with great directness that it
was the "Old Mans house." and that,
invoking the Divine Power, if the case
were his own, he would invite who he
pleased even if in so doing he imperiled
his salvation. The Powers of Evil, he
furthcrremarked, should contend against
him vainly. All this delivered with a
terseness and vigor lost in this necessary
translation.
"In course. Certainly. That's it,"
said the Old Man with sympathetic
frown. "Thar's no trouble about that.
It's my own house, built every stick on
it myself. Don't you be afeared O her,
boys. She may cut up little rough
ez wimmin do-but she'll come round"
Secretly the Old Man trusted to the ex-
altation Of liquor and the power of a
courageous example to sustain him in
such an emergency.
As yet, Dick Bullen, the oracle and
leader of Simpsons Bar, had not spoken.
He now took his pipe from his lips
"Old Man, how's that yer Johnny get
tin on Seems to me he didn't look so
peart the last time l seed him on the
bluff heavin' rocks at Cinnamon. Didn't
seem to take much interest in it. Thar
was gang of 'em by var yesterday
drowned out up the river-and l kinder
thought O Johnny, and how he'd miss
'em May be now, we'd be in the way
eff he wus sick: Z"
The father, evidently touched not on
ly by this pathetic picture of Johnny's
deprivation, but by the cOnsiderate deli
cacy of the speaker, fastened to assure
him that Johnny was better, and that
"little fun might liven him up"
Whereupon Dick arose, shook himself,
and saying "Pm ready. Lead the
way, Old Man, here goes himself led
the way with leap, characteristic
howl, and darted out into the night. As
he passed through the outer room he
caught up a blazing brand from the
hearth. The action was repeated by the
rest of the party, closely following and
elbowing each other, and before the as
tonished proprietor of Thompson's gro
Gerry was aware of the intention of his
guests, the room was deserted.
The night was pitchy dark. In the
first gust of wind their temporary torches
were extinguished, and only the red
brands dancing and fitting in the
gloom like drunken l-o'-the-wisps in
dicated their whereabouts. Their way
led up the Pine Tree Canon, at the head
of which a broad, low bark-thatched
cabin burrowed in the mountain-side.
1t was the home of the Old Man, and
the entrance to the tunnel in which he
worked. Here the crowd paused
for moment, out of delicate Difference
to their host, who came up painting in
the rear.
"P'r'aps ye'd better hold on second
out yer, whilst 1 go in and see thet
things is all right" said the Old Man
with an indifference he was far from
feeling. The suggestion was graciously
accepted, the door opened and closed on
the host, and the crowd, leaning their
backs against the wall and covering
under the caves, waited and listened.
For few moments there was no
sound but the dripping of water from
the caves, and the stir and rustic of
wrestling boughs among them. Then
the men became uneasy, and whispered
suggestion and suspicion passed from
the one to the other. Reckon she's
caved in his head the first lick p Ode
coyed him inter the tunnel, and barred
him up, likely" SCOT him down, and
sittin' on him" "Prob'ly bilin suthin
to heave on us; clear the door, boys !"
For just then the latch clicked, the door
slowly opened, and a voice said, A" Come
in out O the wet"
The voice was neither that of the
Old Man nor of his wife. 1t was the
voice of small boy, its weak treble
broken by that preternatural hoarseness
which only vagabondage and the habit
of premature self-assertion can give.
1t was the face of small boy that
looked up at theirs-a face that might
have been pretty and even refined, but
that it was darkened by evil knowledge
from within, and dirt and hard expe-
rience from without. He had blanket
around his shoulders, and had evidently
Just risen from his bed. "Come in," he
repeated, "and don't make no noise.
The Old Mans in there talking to mar"
he continued, pointing to an adjacent
room which seemed to be a kitchen,
from which the Old Mans voice came in
deprecating accents. "Let me be-" he
added, querulously to Dick Bullen who
ba6 auo,bt him, mn h1anlYat and all and