The home journal. (Winchester, Tenn.) 1858-188?, 1874-04-16

Ye will, hey? Scoot now, git !" And
the half-breed moved off muttering.
"Some men mought er blowed his
head off for less but thet's agin my
principles, said Uncle Tucker to the
assemblage, who were so taken aback at
seeing him in a rage that no one lifted
a hand to help him.
"My boy" said the old man that
night just before retiring, "wo've got
tew leave. Well go Yeast or strike fur
some other diggin's on the Nevada side.
It's hard tew leave ole friends, but We
got tew go, sonny"
GLOW would Japan do, uncley'
"Jaypan won't do, sonny. / under
stan ther very much opposed tew furi-
merit en- thet kentry."
"Uncle," said Joe, laying his hand
aflectionately on the old mans head,
"you are unhappy on my account. L
know you are, and rather than put you
out, Joe will go back home-at least
not home but | will go away"
"My child" said Uncle Tucker, lay
ing hi hand on Joe's arm, don't ye
ever speak thet way agin tew yer ole
uncle. In luck or ont O luck, we're
pardners. What's mine is yourn, an
what's yourn is yourn. Favorito sister
o mines child, Joe ; an yer ole uncle
loves ye as he does the apple of his eye.
No, no we'll light out an go whar no
one knows us, an start in different.
You shell go to school, Joe, an yer ole
unclell see We git good education.
Thet's settled, my child. Good night. "
And drawing the curtain that separated
his bed from the main room, he turned
in.
The next morning Uncle Tucker was
off bright and early to his claim his
face wore happier look than it had
worn for months. He had no appre-
tensions of the half-breed, as he was a
cody brave man, and he did not think
Pedro would molest the boy after the
lesson he had received. 1t was his in
tention to sell out his claim, bid his
friends good.by, and locate somewhere
else.
Jimmy" said Uncle Tucker to a
r d.shirted Hercules, who stood at his
sid", "what'll we allow for the claim ?"
"Oh, sho ! Uncle Tucker" replied
Jimmy, "you don't want to sell out. "
"Don't know bout that what'll ye
give?"
At this moment boy ran up calling
to the old man.
"Yeres me !! " said he, turning to the
boy with his old smile.
"Uncle Tucker, come up to the hotel,
quick Somepins happen"
"What is it, sonny? Fer Gods
sake tell me Is it Joe ?"
"Don't know, Uncle Tucker" re-
piled the boy ." all l know is, we heerd
a Mise in the shanty, an the neX' thing
some one went by on the mule, maxim
big time"
Uncle Tucker waited to hear no more,
but ran on tor his house. There was a
crowd at the door waiting for him. He
rushed in, and there, extended on the
bed, lay the lifeless form of his beloved
Joe There he lay covered with stab
wounds, and quite dead. With heart
broken cry, the old miner threw him
self on his knees at the side of the bed.
"Speak to ole uncle, honey " he
cried "speak, Joe, an tell who did
it, But there was no reply from Joe.
"My child, my child Pedro !!
S'arch him out an shoot him down y
thundered the enraged man.
Pedro? Was it Pedro? A man
stopped at the side of the bed and
picked mp one of those curious-looklng
cards, mute witness of the terrible
deed, but bearing upon its face unmis-
taxable evidence as to the murderer.
Yes, it was Pedro. A dozen men i'm
mediatcly set out in pursuit OF the
murderer.
The grief of the old man was painful
to witness. The room was cleared and
consultation held outside as to what
had best be done. 1t was argued that
no one but the Mexican had been guilty
of the crime, and that if he was cap
tured he would be in safe hands. They
thought it would be well for doctor to
examine the body and make a report to
Il committee of citizens. A red-shirted
miner, who was the district physician,
pushed open the door and entered the
room. He announced his errand to
Uncle Tucker, and softly approached
the bed He opened the boys jacket
and gently turned it back. He started
and stepped back, while a deep blush
dyed his face and neck, as if he had
been caught in some shameful act. He
turned to leave the room, when the old
man, who had been watching him,
clutched him nervously by the sleeve
"Not yit, not yit, doe" he whis-
pered. Tomorrow, an' then we may.
Let the burryin' take place this arter-
noon. An will ye come an see to my
dear child?"
The doctor said he would and wiring
ing Uncle fuckers hand he passed out.
That afternoon a solemn procession
wended its way up the hills to level
spot under the waving pines. A grave
rad been dug, and the rude coffin was
gently lowered into it. Amid the
hushed sobs of the grief stricken man
the rough doctor read the burial SER
vice. Grief was depicted in every stern
face and every eye held tear. As the
men stepped forward to fill the grave
the hardest character in the camp adj
vanced aud threw pack of cards upon
the box which held the form of little
Joe. There was rude eloquence in
the act, and one which spoke volumes
in behalf of the simple-hearted fellow,
who showed his devotion to the dead in
the best way he could. The grave was
filed mp and little mound raised over
it, which was covered with the pure
white syringa which grew all about in
profusion.
"Tew-morrow, doc, an then ye
may" faltered Uncle Tucker, as he stood
in his door. "CJme in the mornin' an
I'll tell we why" The light burned late in
Hotel Independence that night, and some
said Uncle Tucker was praying. Little
groups of men stood about, talking in
subdued whispers, when the sound of