River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1883-03-08

| made no observation for the reason that
| he was listening and their words sent
/ him to thinking. He had never inten-
| ded to stay SO long away from his moth
| er. What if anything should happen to
/ her? What if he would never see her
| again? He was doing all that he could,
| and there were days, and nights, too,
| for that matter, when it did not seem
| that he could keep up. Still it would
be cowardlyto give up. He must do, as
| long as could do, and then
! Late one evening, as the miners were
| gathering the implements of their toll, a
| lad, seemingly exhausted, dragged him.
| self along the rough path, and asked in
a scpulchral voice if they needed help.
Are youth help" was asked with a
| loud laugh.
II have gone looking after camp.
| The men have gone further on, and |
thought, perhaps
/ His voice was spent. 1t was not in
! their hearts to run a lay, he was so thin
| and pale.n
Anyway, you can bunk with us to.
night" said Startling.
1t was Tins cook week, and the coffee
| was steamiug when the men entered the
hut. Tin plates and cups were set in or
der
'sWe'ua loot camnanv..' exclaimed
| Starting. pushing the boy before him.
Surely, we've got an extra" laughed
| Tim, Immediately filling tin cup and
| setting il on board that did as table.
Sometime since he.had asquare meal.
by his looks" running his eyes over the
boy and then to Startling, who seemed
to tower so far above him.
Been sick, answered the latter, TAX
ing the cup from the table and giving it
to the lai. Drink it; you'll feel better,
and the rest of the fixin's is nice. Tim
is first-rate cook.
The action pleased the men; there was
no want of kindness to the boy.
After supper the men filled their pipes
and threw themselves down before the
fire of sweet-smelling balsam. The lad
begged to wash up; he would sleep the
better for it. he said, and Tim allowed
him, nodding over to the men when it
wad done with an air of appreciation
and smile that seemed to say Hell
not be in the W VI"
''Had that cough long?" Dandy asked,
as the lad came and curled down to the
fire.
"Since / was sick. It's worse at night"
answered the lad, who gave his name as
Lance Leonard.
More pine knots were thrown on, red
flames leaped upward and brought out
the trees and the camp utensils with
clear cut lines The men were merry.
Stories were told and the laugh went
round. Gradually the fire died away
and the merriment went out with 1T.
The camp was still and the men were
asleep.
Weeks passed; the weary men found
a change in their camp fare; but the lad
cancillx anh his
cough awoke grave fears.
''lts easy enough to see the kid wants
his MOTHER" said Startling.
cts long journey, and he's not lit to
60 alone" added Slender.
''As fit as ne is to work here" ventur-
ed Tim,
Hes one of us, and we can help him."
chimed another.
That's what we'll do. Well help
him." was said heartily
There was deep silence, Slender was
not talker. More than onee he had
thought, however, that he would take
Lance to his mother. and then he would
90 down to his own home. Once more
that racking cough.
"You are not feeling as well tonight,
LanceY was asked.
''Its that cough; it won't let me rest"
was the reply.
There's doctor at the Gulch," was
suggested.
Eyes. first rate, I've heard say"
Slender went out into the night. If a
doctor could be found he would bring
him. The moon was hanging like a sill
yer shield in the sky. The pines stood
as sentinels; the stars glistened. 1t was
long walk. The doctor was standing
before the campfire, and Lance was
wandering. Now it was gold. EHis moth
err was poor. He had a brother and a
dear littl. sister; they would never know
how he had tried.
'Can he get well?" asked Dandy.
Nothing but miracle will save him,
was the doctors reply.
Hours passed; the doctor was still
watching. There was no sleep. voice
seemed to come at intervals from out
side
"It's Slender; l do believe he's plav-
ing" was said tenderly.
The boy cried out for his mother.
''Sing, please, one of the old SONGS" he
said.
The doctor looked up to Startling.
81 can't" the man whispered hoarse
"Slender can sing" said Dandy.
The latter went out noiselepsly. When
he returned Slender was with him.
''Sing, please" pleaded Lance.
ct seems as though God and his an
gels were here" whispered Startling.
The camp was forgotten. They were
boys again. The dear home was before
them. Slender never knew how it be-
gan. but he was singing
Rock oil ages, cleft for me.
Let me hide myself in thee.
III foo NFt hn
sick youth. He was asleep. Slender
Jasped into silence. Strange thoughts
stirred the hearts of the miners. Was
it all of life TO dig for gold2 Gradually
sweet thoughts crept in of love and ten
der claspings and dear faces, tear
stained, looking and longing for the re-
turn of the wanderer.
Eyes, and we will gow 1t was Star
ling. He bad not intended to speak
aloud; but it did not waken the sleeper.
Slender was the first to read the truth.
Lance was asleep, but it was the sliced
that wakens on the other shore.
The day was capricious and the wind
clustering. Bright colored leaves lined
the sidewalk Pedestrians were warm
ly clad, and walked at brisk pace.
Frank Rensselaer, had kept the memory
oil the village enshrined in his heart dur
ing all the years of absence, and set the
goal of return before his eyes an object
of his existence. This hope had sustain
ed him as a seaman land again in the gold
field of California and now he was come.
He expected no greeting other then
given by the familiar look of every
thing he passed. There was the church
but no, it was not q church; only block
OF buildings Had he made a mistakes
And be stopped and gazed around him.
Surely it was not the same name. The
streets were wide and comqactly built.
He went on over the bridge and the
river where he used to skip around fiat
stones. He paused in dismay. He was
boy then; now man. The thought
flashed over him for the first time.
A small boy was coming from
school with his satchel on his shoulder.
The stranger stopped him and asked a
question.
Eyes this is Fairfield" was the re-
ply, land Mrs. Rensselaer's house is
| Just yonder. The one with the portico
and the vines. It's one of the old ones,
sir"
The boy went on his way.
Mrs. Rensselaer, was sitting in her CO.
zy parlor. In the dancing freight she
was looking almost youthful, and still
with sweet pensiveness in her eyes
that told of trust won through conflict
that would have overcome a weaker
\