The Worthington advance. [volume] (Worthington, Minn.) 1874-1908, 1877-08-23
The Wait Of Deadwood

from the contemplation of sundry piles
| Of" chips " and some other matters per-
tanning to gambling by the appearance
Of small boy in their midst. He was
an uncommon boy, too, because no COM
mon boy would have gone of his own &C.
cord into the Minerva saloon.
"Young chap, where did you come
from, and who are you, anyhowg'
my names jim, and cum up here
from Cheyenne to make stamps like all
| the rest. Don't you want boy here,
boss2"
"A boy! Major, do you hear that2
The boy wants place here. Jim's his
name, he says"
Yes, and reckon we'd best take him,
too; only what'll we do with him? that
what I don't know. Jim, where's your
folks?"
"Dunn no-home, Ispect."
"And where's that2"
II don't like to tell you that; and you
don't know 'em-my folks-so what's
the use in tellin' all about 'em, che"
"That boy is sharp, major, sharp!
And you want place here, boy, do you?"
eyes, boss; I'm lookin' for a place.
can shine boots, and do most any,
thing, never cusses and swears, but I
like to smoke cigar butts and whole ones
too"
"Shinc, can you2 Now let's see how
you can shine before we hire you for
steady work."
And Major Showers left the "look out "
seat at the faro game to test the capacity
of the small boy who wished for place.
Major Showers was gambler-a faro
! dealer; and his partner, "Doc" Puffer,
had earned the curses, because he had
been the ruin Of more than one poor fell
low.
This boy, Jim, was certainly the only
| small boy without an owner in Dead
| wood. It was wonder how such little
waif came away there in the Black Hills.
His own statement of it was perhaps as
good as any;
II jest kept comm till l got here,
boss; that's the way it was"
And that shine of yours, Jim, amt
quite up to what we're used to here; but
mebbe you'll improve. You see, we dom
care what it costs, but we must have the
best"
That was the only bargain ever made
with the boy; but he became presently,
and curiously, too, part and parcel of the
establishment. Like rare painting or a
curiosity, the lad became an attraction.
His quaint old-manish ways and savings
caused many rough customer, and those
better bred, too, to stop and wonder at
the boy.
"Whosc little cuss is he, Doc?" asked
Joe Bunce, Deadwood terror, as he
watched the boy till he wholly forgot and
neglected his faro chips.
"Mine and ma or's."
young fellow, what's your name?"
"Jim."
"Jim what?" out with it, quick orr
"Jim-1 don't like to tell, so 1 don't.
My mamma wouldn't like me to tell
neither: She said how was going to be
the pride of the family some day, if I
was good boy, Oh, wish I could just
see my mamma just onst! O-oh!"
And torrent Of tears told the earnest
love of the lad for his far-away mother.
Other eyes, total strangers to such sensa-
tons, were puzzled at the effect of the
boys tears.
"Let the little chap alone, Joe! You've
made him cry-anG l won'tha it." said
Doc abruptly.
The desperate was actually trying to
soothe and caress the lad.
"Then call him Jim Pride, if you want
to-and let him Alone"
And so he was called Jim Pride after
that. A very nice boy in his WAYS, he
remained too, in spite of the fearful life
around him. And those gamblers of the
Minerva saloon were presently as watch
full and jealous Of the welfare and good
morals of their boy as lover would be
of his mistress.
'The boy don't know anything bad,
and he amt going to learn it from you,''
was the quietus Doc and his revolver put
upon the wickedness of more than one
too-talkative desperate.
"Why don't you set up Sunday school
for the boys here? When me and little
Jim here takes hand you'll have to call
in the checks and close the game, Ell,
Doc?"
From no greater causcSthan this banter
of Joe Bunce with the laugh of others
around the gambling table, came hot
words, and then the inevitable revolvers.
There was in moment cursing shooting,
yells, and the terrific uproar of frontier
barroom fight. Finally the noise ceased
and the crowd came slowly together
again. The faro dealer took his seat
again.
Nobody hurt, gentlemen, Now we'll
60 on again with the game!'
It was then that somebody pointed to
a corner. A little bunch Of clothes Law
there behind chair.
"Oh, God" cried the dealer spring
ing up and throwing away his box and
cards: Its our little boy, Jim. Dead
yes, dead! And wish it was me.
wish it was me and not him!''
The next day Deadwood had funeral
Ia very sad one! There was small
rough coffin into which the entire popu-
lation in town gazed earnestly and tear
fully. Many rough and some cruel
hands suddenly became strangely tender
and wished to help bear away the coffin.
No one knew, the boys real name; but
there is marble slab at his grave. Was
it tender chord in gamblers heart that
prompted this inscription?
"Under this bit Of turf, under this forest tree.
Waiting for God to call, lies the pride Of the
| family"
Company.
! What a ceremonious affair we make of
entertaining company! Too many of US
lose all sense Of being at home the mo-