Washington standard. [volume] (Olympia, Wash. Territory) 1860-1921, 1882-04-07
JOHN PAUL.

He was doubtless a tramp. His worn
and dusty dress, his crushed felt hat, his
dirty shoes, and the checkered muslin
shirt, tied at the neck with bit of rusty
black ribbon, and the little bundle borne
on his shoulder from the end of q stout
stick, told the story plainly. Added to
this was the beard of weeks growth,
except the mustache, which had not
been touched b. a razor. He was rath-
er gay and good-looking fellow for all
that, with keen eye, an open cOunte-
nance, and well-knit figure, and he
strobe along as though he felt that the
wandering idler was really the king of
other men, and tramping superior art.
Presently he threw down his stick and
bundle, and made leap in the road,
just in time to stop runaway horse,
with the long reins Tapping about his
feet, and the wagon behind him sway
ing from side to side. The occupants
Of the wagon, a couple as Old-fashiOned
as the carry-all in which they sat, had
been frantically crying to the horse to
stop, and now that some one had STOP
ped him, were profuse in their thanks.
"Bob is rot vicious" said the man,
whose language and dress showed him
to belong to the Society of Friends, "but
two geese flew across the road, and be-
fore l knew it he had jerked the reins
out of my hands and started on a run.
I'm obliged to thee, for if thee hadn't
caught him he might have spilled us
over the high bank below there"
The tramp nodded and turned to 60,
when the woman spoke.
Friend" she said, ''thee has split
thy coat up the back"
"Have II" returned the tramp, feel
ing for the rent. $50 have. must
get it mended somewhere
"As thee did it helping us" said
the man, putting his hand in his pocket.
81 bar that" said the tramp, raising
his hand, and showing with his laugh a
set of white teeth. 81 don't take money
for stopping horses; but thank you
for the intention"
81 tell thee what to do, friend !
don't know thy name," said the woman.
The tramp smiled again, and said,
"You may call me John Paul, if you
choose"
"Well, friend. Paul, does thee see
that white house among the trees, of
from the road back yonder? Thee 60
there, and say to Rachel-that's our
niece-that her uncle and aunt, Mahlon
and Naomi Stacy, sent thee, and ask
her to sew thy coat for thee. She'll
make it passable, at least"
"Thank you, ma am; I'll do So"
The tramp removed his battered felt
hat, made bow rather more courtly
than might have been expected, and the
parties pursued their several ways.
A brisk two minutes walk brought
John Paul to the lane leading from the
road to the Stacy farmhouse. Down this
lane he turned, and when half way in
it, heard q woman scream. The next
minute pretty young girl, with her
hair flying over her shoulders, ran out
of the house, pursued by great, burly,
rough fellow, who stopped when he saw
the other tramp coming. The girl kept
on, but when she observed the new
conner, stopped also, in doubt whether
it was not confederate.
"Anything wrong?" inquired John
Paul.
"That-that mani" gasped the girl.
There be tramps, and tramps. The
one to whom Paul advanced was of the
baser order, brawny, whisky-sodden,
and brutal.
"What do you mean by frightening
this young lady?"
"Take it easy, pard," rejoined the
big tramp, grinning. "The gal gave
me lunch, and I wanted to sweeten
the victuals with a kiss. There's no
bones broke"
John Paul's face Redeemed. He took
off his coat and threw it Oh the palinxs
of the lane fence.
"Now," said he, quietly, "you'll
leave"
"When 1 git good an ready" an
swered the other, insolently.
"No, sir-now."
"Ha! ha! Suppose you spell able.
Do you see that?" and he thrust his fist
under the nose of the younger man.
1t was dashed aside suddenly and the
right hand of John Paul fell with force
between the eyes of the tramp, who fell,