River Falls journal. [volume] (River Falls, Pierce County, Wis.) 1872-2019, 1885-12-10

had in some way deepened-and some
hitherto unnOticed noise had ceased,
$50 the ear will become conscious of the
presence of clock by the cessation of
its ticking) Bill went TO the bed 1t
was Boston's breathing that had
stopped, A sudden terror took possess
sion of the watcher He felt that he
could not remain alone with that dead
man. aud listen to the hideous wind.
He threw his coat about him, pulled
his hat over his ears, and fled from the
place.
The drifts were terrible, and the
sleet that beat upon his face was like
the touch of death. The light of the
railroad station shone through the
storm and toward this he struggled.
The sleepy operator in the telegraph
room started up in establishment at the
huge snow-covered figure that stag
gered into the room.
My pardner is dead. l wanter
send a telegraf to Boston. What'll it
take?"
How many words?'
Il don't know" said Bill. I'm not
up to this layout of yourn. What )
the limit?''
Just write out"
Write out?" said Bill grimly "Oh
no, m no purfessor in a college. just
you write exactly what l tell you"
"All right"
Just say" began Bill, :" Edward
ton. Got that DOWN."
- 4
the operator.
Bill continued:
II take my pen in hand
No" said the other, Cut all that.
''Ye see," said Bill, apologetically,
Il wanter break the news to the old
gent. However you know best. just
say that his son George died here to-
night of newmony. Kin We send that
word by telegraph"
The operator read
DeadwoOd, Feb. 2, 187S-To Edward
Paysen, 1923 Beacon street, Boston,
Mass: Your son George died here to-
night of pneumonia. viii bury him
here and await your orders.
BILL RAGsDALE.
That's right. III have him buried
here till the old man comes. Now,
young Teller, N dead broke, but tell
you what I'll do. Here my gun. III
cave it in hook with you till | make a
raise. Is it a bargain?'
The operator was glad to oblige Mr..
Ragsdale, and told him that the ar
rangement was entirely satisfactory.
Bill stood by the stove a moment.
Poor Boston" he muttered. poor
Boston. A man cant tell when his
turns comm.
Then he passed out into the storm
and the wind changed the door after
him.
BY six O'Clock in the morning the
storm had ceased, and party of
miners, passing along the railroad
track, found not 100 yards from the
station, the dead body of Bill Ragsdale.
1t was frozen stiff, but two rough holes
in his forehead showed that he had
not died from exposure. A few hours
later DR.. Morgan rode a stalwart brOn-
cho as far up the gulch as he could 90,
then dismounted, and after great diff
entity, reached the door of Boston $
cabin. He entered and found Boston
the only occupant. There We're only a
few embers on the hearth. He uttered
an exclamation and turned to the bed.
Boston made "a slight motion with his
head and asked feebly:
Where Billpo
Il don't know" said the doctor.
"How do you feel to-day?'
Better, but | was very bad last
night
The doctor blew up the embers, put
on more wood. tucked the blankets
about Boston, and began looking for
something to cook. 'HOw's the chest
and back?' he asked.
Very little pain" said Boston, 81
wonder where Bill is
The doctor was busy in the manu-
/ facture of broth and did not hear him.
/ He administered some medicine and
gave the patient two applications.
''The turning point is passed, he said
/ to his patient, you re bound to get
we'll howl"
Then he returned to town, but came
back in the afternoon with Col. Molly
and a supply of provisions. Don t
tell him about Bill" he cautioned. The
next day he called again. Col. Molly
was sleeping in corner and Boston
was sitting up in bed.
In two days more Molly came back
to town and Boston, pale and very
weak, was walking about the cabin.
He had heard of Bills death, and
turned down another somber leaf in his
book of memories. The terrible storm
had swept down the telegraph wires.
and among the delayed messages re-
ceived by the operator about a week
after Bill s death, was the following:
BOsToN, Feb. 5, 1878.-Bill Rags
dale. Deadwood: George Payson :
father Is dead, All bills will be paid.
VIII come in the spring.
HENRY SCRANTON.
All the operator could do was to re-
turn word To Mr.. Scranton that Bill
Ragsdale was dead.
In the meantime George Payson re.
covered from his eonvalescence and be-
gan more earpest and systematic life.
He left the town. secured position il
A stamp-mill q short distance away
and the spring found him there. gravel
with a few premature gray threads IL
his beard.
Qae raw A~ril day, when the snow
lay IL Irregular patches over the grounC
aud the mist rolled slowly up the side
of the mountain, the stage, numbering
along the muddy street. had in it two
travellers of an unwonted type. The
ioafers. smoking on the veranda of the
hotel. held their breaths with amaze
ment as they saw - stately old gentle
man desce nd, and hand out. with al
the unctuous grace of the old school
a lady so beautiful, so pensive ant
young, that she seemed like one OF the
pale flowers pushing its head upthrougt
the snow in the barren woods. Blu
the rapid inquiries as to their identity
left the natives no wiser, and they wer,
obliged to sleep on the mystery.
The next morning, however, th'
keeper of the hotel came on th'
veranda with a piece of gossip. The
old gentleman had sent Tor Kim apc
msde special inquiries after one Georg'
Payson, who had died in February.
No one knew of such man, and thiI