The new Northwest. [volume] (Portland, Or.) 1871-1887, 1874-01-16


good ones; but good or bad, they did moi
concern her, who had no right to ex.
peet that he would come-rather every
ground for believing that he would stay
away-considering the open hostility Of
her father.
But oh, how wearisome it was TO be-
always waiting = waiting and she
could not help waiting. She presumed
that it was because her life was so mo.
notonous that unconsciously to herself
she hoped for something to happen OF
somebody to come. Well, Boone must
be at home before long. There was
something to anticipate. He would be
cheerful and hopeful, and would have
ever so much to tell her that would bc
interesting.
Thus unused Judith, gazing out upon
the moonlight landscape from her little
attic window. She lived more than
ever in her attic now, to escape from
the gloomy and threatening looks and
language of her father. AS she gazed
and unused, a tramping of horses feet,
and the sound of her fathers voice call
ing her, coused a wild hope to spring up
in her heart.
'Has Boone come, Pap ," she cried out
through the darkness of the sitting
room, as she hurried to join him in the
porch.
Boone? NOp' he said, sharply, as il
the question hurt him. "Here's Tim
Parker with his cussed news about In
jun massacres. He's alters got some
tale or nuther-a perfect ole woman fur
tales! Pears like he don't like nothin'
bettern ter kerry news. Who tole We
thet ~ he asked fretfully of Tim.
zone o. Skimmerhorn's boys over the
river" replied Tim, who was offended
by Miles reception of his news.
"Waal, meow, ye needn't put on any
frills, kase I want ter kno,c," Miles said,
little less Extensively.
'T heerd it from some miners a-tray-
lin up this way. They lowed the In
juns hev tooken Arizona. They was
druv out ov the mines tetotally.u
''Reckon Boone he'd sold his cattlo
afore," returned Miles, dropping his ag-
gressive tone, and speaking refiectively.
How long mout them miners a-been
sence they quit ?"
"Long in May, they tole me-"
"Oh, Pap" calculated Judith, stand
ing breathless at his elbow.
''Shet up, won't We, Judel / hollered
ter yew ter git my elo'es; Pm agoin' 1
over ter Speddens. Ye needn't wait, |
Tim," he added; Ego long and settle
yer bizness. I'll be thar in time ter see
it's on the squar."
'Has Tim sold out ." inquired
Judith, returning with the desired arti-
cles.
"Haas, d-n i'm; an d-n all the |
ornary lot that gins in ter a Dutchman,D
answerd Miles, his great black eyes fol-
lowing Tins retreating figure with sui
len animosity.
80, do wish Boone was home
again." sighed Judith, shivering with
newly-awakened apprehensions. 81
am so afraid Of those dreadful Indiansrr
"Injunsr' scornfully calculated her
father. 81 do wonder if there be drop
OF Boone blood in yer. Just as if yer
brother wouldn't liefer fight Injuns nor
eat his supper. 'Tain't Injuns I'm
afeerd ov."
"What is it then, Pap? Is there
anything else to be afraid Of ," asked
Judith, plainly divining by his manner
that there was something he dreaded.
"rm afeared the cattle hev gone ter
mighty poor Market" returned Miles.
"But can't STAN here a-gabbin' when
Pve got bizness with Sefior Shultz. I
reckon it ill be late afore / git home,
an yew'd best not set up"
Judith watched her father out Of sight
as he had watched Tim, and something
of the same gloom made her eyes at that
moment singularly like his. 81 wonder
what it all means," she thought, "afd
if Pap viii sell the place because the
neighbors are doing so. Pm sure don't
want it sold, and l do wish Mr.. Shultz
would not drive Pap into it. He would
not" she whispered to herself, "if he
cared whether or not am happy. But
of course he cannot think about me. If |
l were not such a lonely, ignorant girl, /
with no nanny to love me, and nobody |
to teach me anythingl If!-what a
little word to mean so much.u Then /
with an effort to shake off her despond-
ency, Judith repeated to herself that
homely proverb, ''If wishes were horses.
beggars might ride" and hearing
Katie's voice from the loft inquiring
for her, hastily closed the door and as
cended to her bedroom, but not to
sleep.
The wheezy old clock in the kitchen
struck ten, eleven, twelve, and must
have been near upon the stroke of one,
when Judith, who was still absorbed in |
her reading, though her eyes ached in
the dim light of the tallow dip, became
aware OF a red glare upon the cloth .
lined walls of her little chamber. Turn
ing hastily to the window, she beheld
away off TO the northeast a broad sheet 4
of flame spreading rapidly, and ever
more rapidly, over a large extent of
level country. A moments study Of the
showed her where the fire
was raging.