The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1877-12-20


pointment if l did not come. Then ]
said: +" | am very anxious to go, and am
willing to pay well for being taken"
| The landlord, leaning over the bar,
asked:
How much?'
told him what | was willing to pay.
"Tll go and get the stage ready be
said. After all, it was only the high
price he had been waiting for.
In five minutes the stage was at the
door. 1t was an ordinary box-wagon on
good strong springs, having a cotton
cover open in front. The horse was a
half-starved. jaded-looking beast. l took
all this in as | stood on the porch waiting
for the driver. Getting impatient at
last, asked:
Where is the driverp'
The landlord, without speaking, point
ed TO an ill-clad boy standing at the
horses head. looked closely at him.
He might be, | thought, 10 years old, or
he might be not more than 10. His eyes
were clear blue, and he hearing nv ques-
ton, turned them full upon mine, a
frank, boyish smile rebuking the distrust
my words implied, and lighting up every
feature of his delicate face. His com
plexion was like that of girl, his mouth
small and tender, his hair yellow, his
figure slight and sinuous.
| looked at him, standing there SILVER
ing with the cold-out through the driv-
ing storm, along the snow-covered noun
tain road we were to travel together-and
asked: Are you not afraid to go"
The landlord interrupted:
1T don't matter if he is afraid. He
belongs to me. He shall CO."
"No" | said, she shall not go if he is
not quite willing"
g L am not at all afraid" the boy re-
piled, "and l am quite willing to 90.
have gone, often and often, through
worse storms than this"
There was an earnest, manly grace
even in the way he shook the gathered
flakes from his tattered cap, and in his
voice there was such hearty, cheering
ring, that from the moment | trusted
and loved the boy.
Jumped into the stage, took the back
seat, drew my great frieZe coat about my
legs, and we drove off from among the
gaping, soOty crowd of miners into the
lonely mountain road; into the cruelest
storm of wind and snow that | ever saw.
The boy sat on the front seat, waiting
10 he spoken to- looking straight ahead
When We were quite clear of the stray
Cling huts of the miners on the outer
most limits of the town, | asked him his
name.
"They call me Lewis Shively," he
said.
How old are you, Lewis?" was my
next question.
Fourteen, next April, sir!
" Do you live at home with your
father and mother?"
"That man yonder is all the father or
mother | have, and his stable loft is the
only home | have had since he took me
from the poorhouse. That was better
than the stable, though, for they taught
me something there"
There were no complaining chords in
the tones in which these bitter words
were said, and while he was speaking he
was drawing the long whip gentle across
the horses back, brushing off the snow
that had fallen ON it.
"Haye you been driving on this road
long?" | inquired.
"Going on three years. 1t will be
three years in March"
at is cold out there? Colder than in
here, mean?"
" l think it is" he replied, d" the wind
and snow cut SO, but | don't mind, sir a!
We get used to rough weather up in
these hills"
u wish you would come in here, my
coat will cover us BOTH"
"No | can't he said. az must watch
the road now. We have to 90 pretty
close to the precipices, sometimes"
How close?' | asked.
"Within a few inches. | can't see
now five yards ahead, the snow falls so
heavily"
DO you think it safe, then, to go
on?"
Quite safe, sir, and | don't mind the
cold" But his teeth chartered as he
said it, and the ruddy glow was all gone
from his cheeks.
| did not say more then. There were,
| discovered, wide crevices in the bottom
of the stage, through which the wind
poured mercilessly. l was chilled to the
heart in less than an hour after starting.
| do not know how far we had gone, or
how long we had been upon the road,
when | heard the boys voice CHEEKY and
bright:
How are you now, sir. Feeling very
comfortable, sir?'
| nodded my head, and crept closer
into a corner. But he was wiser than |,
and would not let me have the sleep. |
coveted.
g You are in hurry to get home" he
said, for want of something better to say
to rouse me.
Yes" | replied, al want to be at
home on Christmas eve"
1.-The best days | ever knew were
Christmases-a good while ago"
He said it as if he were ever and ever
SO old, and what was saddest of all, as if
he were done with Christmas forever. |
told him of the tree that | was to get,
and how Christmas day was kept in the
great cities. He was most interested in
the tree, making me tell him again and
again about it. But after some time, as
if be We're tired of it, he said:
Il never saw tree like that | know
about Christmas, though. About the
star anu Tue sueputruS, anu tIle NnrlSl-
child you spoke of-that they laid in a
Manager"
Then you know all that any one in
this world need ever to know" | said.
may have been an hour or two, but
ii seemed but minute after this that
the boy shook me roughly by the shout
der
ave are to get out here" he said.
| was very stiff in all my joints, but
could get up and climb out of the stage
and no more. If | was cold | did not
know it; my limbs were numb, vet other,
wise / was comfortable enough. !
crawled out and followed the boy into a
misunderstanding shantv by the roadside
in front of which We had stopped. There
was rough bar running across the
room, there was 4 thick, black-haired
brawny-looking man behind it, and there
were two or three kegs of liquor behind
him. There was an iron stove in the
middle of the room, bench along the
wall and that was all. The hoy asked