The Democratic advocate. [volume] (Westminster, Md.) 1865-1972, 1885-01-17

man small slip OF paper tackled on the
end, and was about to explain where he
would find the material designated when
the fellow threw off his coat and deftly at
tackled pile of scantling, which happened
to be the first item that was on the list.
'sHulloa p said Proctor, gazing at him
in surprise "You seem to know some
thing about this business
"a little" returned the man, shortly.
The young lumberman took his way back
to the Office A little later the ruddy
visage of Maxon looked in at the door as
he returned from dinner.
''Oh, by the way, Maxon, [ have new
man at work out in the yard. You might
keep an eye on him"
s'Now, Mr.. Proctor r exclaimed Maxon,
in hopeless protest. "Is it another of them
fellows ?"
"Well, you see, he declared he was will
ing to work, and it seems only fair to give
a man chance"
The broad-shouldered young proprietor
was avowedly on the defensive.
$50 far as | am concerned, of course it's
nothing to me" observed Maxon, defect
edly; "but it puts me out to have you made
laughing stock all over town. It's a
shame-well it's no use talking. Yes,
you may depend upon me to keep an eye
on him, sir Those fellows will bear watch
ing. I say, though, Mr.. Proctor, haven't
you got mighty close up to that hundred r
Half an hour later Maxon looked in
again, his face lit up with a mischievous
smile.
"Don't you want to take look. at your
new hand now, Mr. Proctor?" He is just
like the rest of them; sitting on lumber
pile, all doubled up with pain in
A flying Spanish conversation book
checked further intelligence, and Maxon
lodged around the corner to escape other
missiles At o'clock, when the hands
came up to receive pay for their days
labor, John Proctor saw his protege stand
ing off little distance. The man made
no demand for wages, and his employer
took no notice of him. As the men filed
out the agent of the Plumbago City train,
a personal friend of Proctors, came run
ming into the office with package in his
hand.
"Here, Proctor, run them over quickly,
and. sign this receipt It's the $1,000 from
Juarez & Sisnor. [ haven't a moment to
spare"
The lumberman hastily counted the
notes, signed the name to the receipt in
bold, dashing hand, and the agent hurried
off,
Left alone, Proctor drew from his pocket
a long Russian leather pocket-book, and
laid the notes carefully inside. As he
thrust this into his breast pocket he CHANGED
to glance toward the window, and encoun-
tered the hungry eyes of the tramp, following
all of his movements from without. As
the man saw that he was detected he paused
seemed about to speak, then changed his
mind and sauntered away earelessly. A
vague anxiety assailed John Proctor. 1t
was long after banking hours; there was no
help for it, he must be the custodian of his
treasure until morning.
He sat up late that night. The payment
of this sum was all that was necessary to
make the trip definite and tangible matter.
There was a pile of correspondence to be
turned off, and letter to be dispatched to
that little woman in Illinois, telling her to
discharge her music pupils and make ready
for his coming. When he had finished |
his letters he sat quietly for awhile in his
big arm chair. 1t was very late when he
rose, and, locking doors and windows, pro-
ceeded to the little inner room where he
slept. He drew off his coat, and, folding
it carefully, placed it beneath his pillow.
Then he examined the barrels of an Eng
lish bulldog pistol, which hung upon a
hook beside his bed Reassured by this
precaution, he sank into heavy slumber.
Several hours before man had crawled
upon low pile of planks, fanked by two
others of towering height. As he stretched
himself at full length, with bundle of
shakes for pillow, he philosophically re-
fected that such bed was not to be de-
spised He was not Unqualified to judge,
for his experience had been wide and diver
sifed and he had learned to weigh the
most delicate points of variance with the
fine discrimination of a connoisseur
He had travelled half way across the
continent without once knowing the shelter
of civilized roof He had tented beneath /
the fragrant shades of orange groves in
Southern California, and in waving fields |
of golden grain, some terrible July nights
on the Colorado desert, where the mercury
marked 110 degrees at midnight, parching
for water and choking with the hot dust Of
the arid waste, waking at daylight to find
the delusive mirage mocking him in the |
distance. He had sunk down exhausted |
on the barren plains of Arizona, and reused
to find himself stabbed in thousand places
by the cactus needles, cast upon him by the
malicious breeze; ever lured on by the
sweet face of child who had smiled fare
well through mist of tears.
The quiet of the place, the gently stir
ring air, odorous with the fragrance of the
pine woods, and the sleepy twinkle of the
stars over head, end the WEAKNESS ofmuscles
unaccustomed to labor, soon lulled him into
slumber.
A little later two glowing sparks of fire
seemed to glide down the railroad track,
steal around the Office and disappear within
the long drying-shed at its rear. During |
their progress these sparks of fire occasion
ally described magnificent curves in the
air, in the accentuation of certain rythmical
utterances in the corrupted Spanish of the
/ N1SA1Cdu hC AOhSoO UAOAANoeh
peon, who all his life goes ha!f-clothed,
halffed and unsheltered, handles his cigar
or cigarette with the fine pomposity and
careless grace of the proudest hidalgo.
John Proctor awoke that night to find
himself assailed by foe mightier than his
feeble imagination had pictured. He tried
to rise, but found himself to be unable, OPP
pressed by terrible sense of sufocation
from dense volumes of smoke which filed |
the air, through which vast sheets of flame
darted their forked tongues toward him.
Suddenly the wall of fame and smoke was
parted and the face of the tramp bent over
him. He was roughly shaken, pulled off
the bed, half dragged, half carried through |
the little private office and dragged into
the large room beyond, where the fire had
begun its work of devastation. Then voice
and memory came back, and he shouted
"My notes In my coat pocket, under the
pillow-let me gol'
For an answer he was violently propelled |
forward into the arms of some men, eagerly |