The People's vindicator. [volume] (Natchitoches, La.) 1874-1883, 1881-06-18

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the fires in Rev City, Tram Hollow and
Foster Brook on that awful daye Is that
so? Well, then, you know how fast they
run and what roar they make. TWAS
just awful that day. never saw any
thing like it. It was reported that the
Tram Hollow fire was accidental, and
that the fire started from some sparks
that had been smoldering in stump
pile. That's all nonsense, for I started
the fire myself and had to run for life to
keep out of Its way. Like crazy fool
ran down the valley, with the wind and
the fire following me like a monster
ready to avenge itself. There were
some houses down in the valley and they
used to call the place Oil Centre, and
when l reached the first house the fire
had caught up to me and l jumped into
the creek and ran down in safety out Of
the reach of the fire.
"Pretty soon l came to a house that
belonged to a woman, and it was all she
had between her and poverty, and I saw
her trying to carry out some things, but
before she could do anything the fire
swooped down and caug hit up that house
like a whirlwind. That woman turned
to me, gave one unearthly, heartrending
scream and tainted away. l took care
of her until she was able to walk, and
then put her in charge of some of her
friends. Oh, that awful scream! have
heard it many times since, and l heard
it tonight while you were here. 1t has
haunted me day and night; it has given
me no rest. sometimes think that the
pauper I killed was relative of hers,
and that her scream comes to ME in
punishment for the deed. You know
the result of that Tram Hollow fire?
Scores of people thrown on the world
homeless and penniless; thousands upon
| thousands of dollars lost; children cry
ing for bread about the skirts of their
heartbroken mothers. I have since done
what l could in a feeble way to see that
those homeless people did not suffer for
the necessaries Of life; but, oh, the re-.
morse that has gnawed at my heart
since that fatal day! Why, oh, why did
l ever touch the accursed whisky that
made me q fiend? Why, oh, why did
the woman l loved drive me to this?"
He stopped as if stricken dumb, his
eyes glaring wildly from their sockets,
his face picture of horror and fear.
"My Cod" he shrieked; "that
scream again! Did you hear it? No,
how could you, for it comes only to me.
feel that I'm going very fast now, and
oh, 1 hope God has forgiven me. Come
closer. Here, take the picture and keep
it, and-some-day show ito the
woman it represents-and tell her-and
tell her-I-I-loved her to-the-
the-last!"
The galight came struggling through
the cracks in the rough cabin and fell up
on an upturned face, from which had
faded sorrow and care and hate and
fear, and all things earthly, and which
as tho angel of death released the suf-
fering spirit, reflected from its cold form
the look of peace and love of the dead
but unforgotten past. Slowly, rever-
emily, I closed the door of the rude
building and left the dead alone with
the changing shadows under the moan
ing pines. Out into the wintry night,
down the little valley to the test-well, I
walked as in a dream, and as I opened
the door of the derrick and stood before
the giant form of Big Jack Sanford, tina,
large-hearted man gazed at me in sur.
prised silence.
"The man up at the shanty-" be-
gan, and lump seemed to come into
my throat all at once. .. .m
"Yes?" said Jack, interrogatively.
"He is-is-dead!" and I sat down
on the anvil in sheer despair.
"What! Jim Barton? Torpedo
Jim" ....
could only nod assent.
"Dead! Torpedo Jim dead! Poor
Jim!" And great sob shook the burly
form of the driller as he CROPPED blindly
for the throttle wheel.
Softly we entered the little cabin and
stood in tho presence of the dead. 1t
seemed so strangely that death should
come down and lay his handson the sick
man under the health.giving pines; it
didn't seem like other haunts of death,
like funerals in churches and grand
houses, where sorrowing friends crowd
around the silver-trimmed casket and
take q last look at the tenement of CLAW.
There it was pomp and worldly SORROW;
here it was poor, unfortunate James
Barton, Torpedo Jim, lying in his bunk
so cold and still and silent We sat in
the little cabin . long while In silence,
each man busy with his own thoughts
and strangely affected by the presence
of death in the lonely forest. The night
wore on apace and after awhile Big Jack
Sanford, the driller, rose and went out
Of the room into the early morning,
closing the door carefully, as if afraid
he might disturb the corpse of his friend.
Hours passed end as one by one the stars
faded away and the sun came cleaning
through the tree-tops the tool.drosser
and dropped off to sleep, and when we
were awakened by the sound Of footsteps
on the frozen snow we saw Big Jack
coming toward the cabin with . rough
hemlock box shaped like coffin. ~
"It isn't 30 nice as I could wish, 81
said Big Jack, as he deposited his bur.
den on the board table; "but it is the
best we can do" aef# So
With the loving tenderness Of q ia.
Their, Big Jack gathered the inanimate
form of Torpedo Jim in bis strong arms
and laid him gently in the narrow coffin.
And then he and the tool dresser lifted
the remains and carried them through
the doorway and down the path leading
past the well. It was the most sorrow.