The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1881-08-20
THE LAST OF NINE.


"Did you know that Tom Bailey had
passed in his checks?"
eyes; heard it by telephone an hour
ago"
The speaker was John McWilliams,
and we were sitting on the piazza of his
home in Bradford.
"Doyou know the particulars, John?"
"Particularsp Well don't know as
there are any. Same old story, you
know. Didn't pack the nitro-glycerine
in the wagon carefully, and when the
wagon went over a log the load exploded
and-and-that was all.''
There was no need of further expla-
nation, for l could reason it all out
clearly enough, and could almost fancy
saw the CHASTITY remains of the ill-starred
Tom Bailey, who went out one morning
to superintend the shooting of a well
and never came back. Bailey was an
employee of the Roberts Torpedo Com
pany, and John McWilliams, the man
with whom | was in conversation, was
his Division Superintendent on the same
''run," or district.
"Family, John?"
"No-that is, he hadn't wife, but he
had widowed mother and young sis
ter.'
"What will they do?"
Oh, the Company won't see them
starve, and, besides, l guess poor old
Tom didn't die a beggar. Poor old
boy!" and the bearded man at my side
sobbed like heart-broken child.
II never told you about Tom and the
rest of the boys, did Ip" continued the
Borrowing man.
"The restp''
"Yes; there were nine of us, YOU
know-but you don't know, for have
never told living soul. This sudden
death of TOMS quite humans me, for l
am now the only one left-the last of
nine"
l waited long while for John to gain
control of his feelings, for l knew he
had story to tell of more than usual
interest. 1t was beautiful night, full
OF soft moonlight and drowsy with the
hum OF humanity in the city beneath
our feet. A delicate, almost impercept-
IDLE mist hung about the city, and from
our hillside piazza we could see far down
the valley where the Tunungwant stream
family glimmered in the moonlight, and
where the huge iron tanks of oil doomed
up gloomy and black against the mellow
brightness of the night. Over at Pros
pect Park, on Mount Raub, the light
was flashing and faring, while family
to our ears came the strains of a Strauss
waltz. Away off on another hill the
sound of laboring engine and the thud
OF the walking beam told that the pom
derous drill at a we'll was being lowered
into the earth as fast as men working
night and day could sink the hole. Down
below. the city flashed up at us its count
less lights and shadows and family
floated up the hum of business and
pleasure. 1t was strangely beautiful
night for story of oil. John spoke at
last, slowly, and with evident hesita-
ton.
"Yes," he said, "there were nine of
us, and I'm the last one alive. It's a
queer thing, and it makes me feel
strangely; Perhaps more SO now that
poor Tom isis"
He couldn't bring himself to say the
word he couldn't say that his friend
was dead. With an effort he con-
tinued:
"You doubtless know that l was in the
army during the late war. saw some
pretty tough fighting, too, and after
Shiloh was made Captain, and at the
same time Tom Bailey, who was in the
same company, was promoted to Lieu
tenancy for bravery. He deserved it, too,
torlthere never was better or drawer
boy; trifle reckless, you may say, but
brave and generous to fault. At the
close OF the war we went home together,
and with us went what was left of the
company. There wasn't much, to be
sure, for we had done some terrible
flghting, and many of the boys had gone
down through the valley of the shadow
Like the rest of the returned soldiers
we went into the oil country, which was
Just then turning the heads of all the
people, and after knocking around
awhile and losing what money we hao
we concluded to go into the business o.
shooting wells. Tom and l went into
the business for ourselves, and soon
hired four of the men who had been il
our company and friend of mine, who
had been wealthy but was sbroke., &c
work for us. Two fishermen cam,
along that we had known before, anC
we engaged them. That made nine q
us, and we used to live in one room anC
do our own cooking, for women were
scarce in the oil country at that time
Everything went on finely, and we made
money hand over fist. Old Colonel Rob
erts hadn't got the monopoly of the nj
tro-glycerine business then, and any
man could engage in it who cared to rur
the risk.