The Idaho world. [volume] (Idaho City, Idaho Territory) 1864-1918, 1874-06-27

these wagons, drawn by SIX yoke O
ioxen, was just passing. Snap, snap
|snap, in slow, irregular succession
came the keen singing reports OF the
long, Missouri ox-whip." Glang'
g'langl wo-haw!" shouted the tall, dust
Ibegrimed driver, as he swung his whip
and cast side-long glance at the bro
ken firm, wondering, what in thunder
all them store clothes was a-doin' thar
Now, when Armstrong saw the long
column of white dust rising behind
that wagon, he was taken with an idea
So he shouted to the driver to know i
he might be allowed to walk in the
road behind the wagon.
"Get in and ride" said the driver.
"No." said Armstrong; Il wish to
walk"
"Then walk, you crazy foo" was the
accommodating response, as the driver
swung his whip.
Then came the tug Of war. Greek
never met Greek more fiercely than did
the two contending spirits composing
the firm of Armstrong Il Self at that
particular moment. "Now, Armstrong"
said the imperious head of the firm.
"you get right into the middle Of that
road, sir, and walk in that dust, behind
that wagon, all the way to the Packers
koost, on the Yuba River" "What,
with these clothes on?' Eyes, with
those clothes on" "Why, it's fifteen
miles, and dusty all the way" "No
matter, sir; take the road You squan-
dered your money at three-card monte;
I'll teach you a lesson"
"G'lang! g'lang!" drawled the driver,
as he looked over his shoulder with a
curious mingling of pity. contempt and
wonder on his dusty face. More and
more spitefully snapped the swinging
whip as the slow paced oxen toiled mile
after mile under the heat Of Septem-
Der sun. And there, in the road, trudg-
ed Armstrong behind the wagon-slow-
ly, YEARLY, thoughtfully, but not silent
". He was a man who always spoke
his thoughts.
This serves you right, Armstrong.
Any man who will fool his money away
at ihree-card monte deserves to walk
in the dust. ut will spoil these clothes"
"Well, don't you deserve it!' The dust
fills my eyes" Yes. any man who
CANDLES all his dust" away at three
card monte deserves 10 have dust in
his eyes-and alkali dust at that" THE
dust chokes me" All right; any man
who will buck at monte deserves TO be
choked Keep the road. sir-,he mid.
die of the road-close up To the wagon.
Do you think you will ever buck at
monte again, Armstrong;
And SO the poor culprit, selfarrcsted,
selfcondemned, coughed and sneezed
and choked and walked and talked,
mile after mile, hour after hour; while
the great wagon groaned and creaked,
the driver bawled and swung his whip,
the patient oxen gave their shoulders
to the yoke. and the golden sun Of Sep
TENDER sunk YEARLY towards the west
The shadows of evening were begin
ming to fall when the wagon halted at
the place called Packers Roost, on the
Yuba.
"Here we rest" sighed Armstrong,
just above his breath, as he looked at
the stream. "No, you don't" answered
the head Of the firm. "You buck your
money away at monte, and talk about
resting! Now, Armstrong, go right
down the bank, sir, into that river"
As the command was peremptory,
and spirit of obedience was thought
The safest Armstrong obeyed without
parlcy; and down he went, over head
and ears, store clothes and all, into the
cold mountain stream 1t was a long
time that he remained in the water and ,
under the water. He would come to ,
The surface every little while to talk,
you understand. 1t was impossible for {
to forbcar talking. "Oh, Il
yes," he would say, as he came up and {
'nuffcd the water from his nose, you'll II
puck your money away at three-card .
monte, will you? How do you like wa /
er curc?" His words were, of course, q
luly punctuated by irregular plunges /
md catchings of the breath. q
1t SO happened that the man who q
Zept the shanty hotel at Packers Roost
lad q woman for a wife. She. beinr :