The Jackson standard. [volume] (Jackson C.H., Ohio) 1847-1888, 1884-02-07
IFrom Dio Lewis Monthly.1
BIG JACK SMALL.

marks, was striding with long strides
up and down the road on either side
of his wagons, with whip ON shoulder
making all ready for start; looping
up heavy chain here, taking up &
link there, and inspecting shortening ng
or lengthening-the draw of brakes
etc.; while his long team, strung out
and hitched in the order of march
were some standing and some lying
down under the yoke, on the hard
shard-rock road beneath the hot sum-
mer sun. His Indian, ycleped Coy
Nye, was standing with his legs cross
ed near the ankle, stoically watching
the preparations, well satisfied for the
present in the comfort of full stom-
ach and the gorgeous outfit of bat
tered black silk plug" hat, a corpo-
rails military coat with cheyrons on
the sleeves and buttoned to the chin,
a pair of red drawers for pantaloons, a
red blanket hanging gracefully from
his arm, and a pair of dilapidated
boots on his feet.
Gazing bashfully upon this scene,
and striving to catch word with Mr..
Small, the Rev. Mr.. Signal turned his
hands each over the other, and said:
"Mr. Small, | cannot heave my bed
ding up there
Cant! Well, give it yere to me!
I'll hist it fer your
"But I have not brought it yet. 1t
is just here, almost at hand, where I
lodge"
"Well, we'll, rustic round an fetch
it! Biz is biz with me now. l must
git up an dust. Yere, Gov, you go
him-all same NJ he talk. Take
this Ipjin with yer-he'll help yer
carry what you've got"
THANK you. You are very kind in
deed, said the reverend, as he marched
of, followed by the gorgeous red man,
down the steep street of the mining
town.
While he was gone, Mr.. Small, hav-
ing all things in readiness, proceeded
to straighten his teams so as to tight
en- the chains and couplings whereby
the great wagons are made to follow
each other, in order that he might be
sure that everything should draw
even, strong and true. Presently, Mr..
Signal and Gov came painting and
trotting round the corner, out Of the
street into the road, each having hold
of the end of roll Of bedding; the
reverend carrying a black overcoat
and purple scarf on his right arm, and
Gov. having his royal red blanket on
his left arm.
Mr.. Small, taking the roll, poised it
on end on his right palm, steadied it
with his left, and shot it to the top Of
the high wagon-box as if it had been
a bag of feathers.
THAR, Gov, heap jump up-heap
fix 'em-little rope-no fall off. You
sabe?"
"Yash-me heap saber' said Gov,
tossing his precious blanket to the
wagon top, and slowly climbing up
after it over the wheel and side.
"All ready, Parson?" said Mr..
Small, interrogatively, as he picked
up his baton Of command.
Eyes, timidly, ''I-I-believe I am"
Rapidly Mr.. Small strode forward,
drawling out in the indescribable rhet-
oric Of his profession, "You Ro-w-dy!
Turk! Dave! Gee, Brigham!" then
suddenly, "Who-o-o-ah-ba-a-ck"
''See yere, Parson! Got anything
to eat aboard ?"
mo, sir. | have presumed l could
buy provisions at the houses where
we stop"
Houses, hi! O, excuse me, Par
son. Thar haint no houses to speak
of, a eff thar was, bull-teams don't
hev nothin' to do with houses, 'thout
they're whisky-mills. Then showing
up his hat, and scratching his head
with vigorous rake or two Of his
hard fnger-nails, he pulled the hat
down on his nose, and leaning back,
looked at the Rev. Mr.. Sighal, and
said, "S'yre Parson, I'll grub ye, but
my grub's lightnin beans, bread, ba-
con, coffee, an can-truck. You go
into camp, an buy-le'me see-well,
buy small sack O. oat meal, two pa
pers O. pinoly, pound O. black tea,
an half dozen cans O. condensed
milk. That'll put ye through. Yer
kin easy ketch up to the team. Gee,
Git up, Dave! You Roa-
ny! Bally! Haw thar! Roll out!
Roll outr' And the slow line moves
over the rocky road at a snal's pace,
the wheels grinding almost impercep-
tibly, to the top Of the not large
stones, and then dropping off at the
other side with a sudden fall and jar,
which, though the fall be but an inch
or two, makes the loading talk in va
rious voices as it settles more firmly
to its place.
Up, slowly-ah, so slowly, so dusti-
ly!-up and up the mountain, by the
canyon road, pausing at intervals to
breathe the painting herd, Mr.. Small
grinds and crushes out solid shining
line, with his many wheels, in the
porphyry and granite dust. The dry
mountain SUBMITS rise on either hand,
capped with the undaunted rocks,
which have defied the artillery of hea-
ven before man in any color stood to
witness the shock-the rays of the sun
upon the head Of Big Jack
Small, as he marches stoutly up the
side of his team, to pause for its click
ing step, then up another march, and
then pausing again, lifting the SER
pent-coiled baton above his head,
shouting anon the name Of some
throbbing toiler of the yoke. Thus
he gains the summit, and halts to
draw the rearward brakes.
''Ah, Parson! Hist them things
up thar to Gov. Gov, you fix 'em.
Now we're off. Plenty time, though,
Parson, to look at the scenery. You
see that round peak yonder-way off ?
That's jest eighty-two miles from
yere. Can't see that-a-way in Penn
sylvania, kin ye? Gee, Brigham! Git
a-up!
More rapidly, and with much clink-
ing and clanking of yoke-sings, hooks