The spirit of democracy. [volume] (Woodsfield, Ohio) 1844-1994, 1885-07-28

Cnarley was tue name OF nlS Qea0 son
"Mother used to raise sight, but arter
she went they begun dyin' an what did
MT die was eat by cayotes."
The last day Of my first week on the
ranch Miss Bessie Little rode up to the
cabin on her coal black horse. She was
a sweet.faced glrl. blue ey ed and yellow
haired and rode beautifully. She made
herself at home. pested George, and ],
shy as vas, found myself confditg to
her all my troubles and hopes She SYM
pathizsd with me and helped me, cutting
q frock for George and basque for me,
and when she rode of she promised to
come often.
The next day a wagon came from her
home and 10 IL wasa fine rooster end
six hens and big bundle of clothing she
had outgrown and that fitted me.
How dreary the howls OF the cayotes
we're at night, especially when one OF
their number was killed They would
seem to unite in q chorus Of maledic.
tions.
Miss Eessie rode up one day and ct
her heels was an overgrown shepherd
puppy with big paws and jolly little black
eyes.
"Here's cayote ex'erminator, grand.
futher Byers," she said as she jumped
from the saddle, aud the black horse fell
eagerly to eating the short, crisp buffalo
grass just as though he vas not stuffed
at home.
She initiated the csyote's cry; the dog
bristled, his eyes shot fire, be looked 10
all points Of the compass and then. with
a fierce ho1l, tore madly around the
house.
Through Miss Bessie's kindness
found ready market for my eggs and
chickens and for the butter learned to
make; and she showed me how to "lay
butter down" for winter use.
Though she never had to work she
knew every task In farmers wife's ex'
istence; and perhaps it Was best, fol
there was . young man living bear bel
fathers ranch, who himself owned 9 big
ranch, and who took tea every Sunday
afternoon with her father, and went "a
church down IN the village every Sunday
evening with her.
About two miles from our ranch were
three low hills.or m ounds. Behind one
in sort OF valley, hedged 10 BY the hills
and facing the plains, was we'll ninety
feet deep called, l regret to say, "Byers'
Folly" Poor grandfather had had the
" II dug hoping to obtain water to. irri-
gate bis land. He could not see ahead
to Ito time when company Of capital.
lists would iutersect the region with irri.
eating bitches, and each mans land
could be benefited by paying q email
annual water-tsx
Granfather's money gave out before
the we'll was finished and the wide, deep,
black hole. csrelessly crossed by rotten
boards, and big pile OF earth, was oil
that was left of his labor and his for
tune.
Not only was his money sunk 10 the
hole. but also large sums borrowed from
Mr.. Little who, knew had forgiven it,
and Eve hundred dollars borrowed from
a Mr.. Davieson, of D., and to this
man our ranch was mortgaged.
Ora, dfather grew gloomy and sad as
spring came on. He frightened up lit.
tie when showed him my account book
Mics Bessie showed me how to keep
it-and l proved to him how much mon.
ey had made with the hens and the but
ter: but he sighed q moment after
"Ef hadn't q done that how CON.
Portable we'd q been. You're such .
smsrt gal, son more'n gal. Charley.
But Davieson's q hard man donno as
ter.morrer'll end rs with roof to cover
Us, an tits fine property too. now the
irrergatin ditch crosses it,"
He seemed to take little interest 10 the
farm work. He would harness the horse,
plow q few farro We, and tten stand 10 q
helpless attitude looking toward D.
He would wander down to the road to
ask passers il they had letter for him,
and then would cit outside the kitchen
door, bis face hidden in his hands. Geor
gle playing near by would try to COM
fort him in his loving baby way.
One day, however, man came up on
horseback. He tossed me letter--Tve
hated yellow envelopes ever since--for
grandpa wss dowE in the field With bis
team ir was such . sunny March day it
gave him new life for his work.
! could not bear to take it 90 put
Georpie's sunbonnes on bin and pinned
the letter to his frock, and with big
cookie 10 bis hand sent him down to
"danpa."
They came back later hand 10 hand the
came old horse following. Grandfather
burried past me into bis chamber and
shut the door. His face was h.coIored
aud his eyes bloodehot. l waited long
time; l feared be might he dead 30 ] rap.
ped on the door He opened il; be was
dressed 10 bis worn black broadclo,h
suit. With his old-fsshioned bieh collar.
l remembered then 1t wss the first time
I bad ever seen him wear a white shirt.
He held On old beaver hat In bis hand
and was absently brushing the nap with
his sleeve.
"It's come. dear. That! I'm goin'
ter D.. I'lldry il b, won't wait ill
fall I'll work hard. Maybe the crops'Il
DO summat. I'll sell the stock"-those
Did horses we're 80 dear to him! "No,
ion't kisa me- dear: il 'uti break me
down. I've just found out I'm weak
old man. ] never felt 1t afore."
He staggered out to the baro; ! fol-
Owed him
II mayn't be back for two days or so /
Will you be afeered :"
"No." | said, but Was. I helped him
pto the wagon. He seemed dazad and
half blinded by his misfortune. Oh, #
could help him! did the work faith.
Iully when he was gone. driving the
COWS and milking them. and taking care
Of the house and George and the poul-
try.
The next day band OF Tndians-teu
Dr. twelve-rcde up to the cabin. was
but met them as coolly as II
had plenty to protect me. George, in
wild alarm, hid under the bed. The In.
lians seemed kind, and only wanted a.
irink of milk. There we're four squaws
among them, with kind, bright eyes; one
gave me q necklace OF beads as they
rode off.