Thomas County cat., 1886-11-11
NOT PLAYING POSSUM.
The Brave Act of a Scout in the
Oil Regions.

Oil Regions.
Below us the brook, swollen by the
recent rain, rushed turgidly through
the narrow valley and swept in long
muddy curve around the distant bend
in the road. The oil scout felt like
talking. and l was anxious to hear him.
Out of the sun, then. and supine in the
soft pine shadows we lay, while he told
me the story of the ruined mystery"
over in the ravine.
When all this region roundabout was
as Wild as that hillside, save that the
larch and fir and white pine were then
free to grow to their stateliest height;
when the deer came fearless to drink
from the brook, and the snake seldom
sounded its warning rattle-that is to
say, only three years ago-the gnarled
old oak that stands there in the clear
ing, whose broad branches had shell
tered the human form divine in the
person of the savage Indian, fluttered
its leaves in surprise one day over the
venturesome head of the first oil scout
to traverse these forsakcn paths.
A New Englander. young and sup
pie, with all the cunning and courage
of a Yankee, he had been singled out
by those whose interest it was to know
the latest operations in the new terrific
ry to watch and report the develop
ments at the mystery" then sinking
IN the ravine beyond. He was fond
of such adventures for the excite
ment's sake; he received fixed wage,
and was not prompted. therefore, to
engage in his work by avarice or ma
levolence. And as he reclined in the
grateful shade of the oak, painting
from the eXertion of sealing the steep
hill, that sturdy old tree, unbending
presently from its first surprise, fell to
tanning him with its long. rustling
arms. and the birds overhead warbled
a tuneful greeting. fS ~
1t was one of the early days of
spring, and as every thing about him
seemed overcome by the influence of
the indolent air so the scout. forgetful
of duty. lay outstretched beneath the
New Haven. When he awoSe it was
with the hot rays of the sun burning
his upturned face, while the lazy wind
was wrenching. admonitory creaks
from the robust branches of the tree,
and leaning against its trunk stood a
small child gazing compassionately
upon him through violet eyes
''Oh! you're not dead, are you?"
she cried, clasping her hands and her
little bosom palpitating.
mo. indeed. Don't look alive?"
"You do now, but you didn't when
you was so quiet
This child was wonderfully inter-
esting thing to the scout He hadn't
talked to one for year.
"How did you know l wasn't play
ing 'possum?'
Il never played that. What is it?"
He laughed and she chimed in like a
silver bell. the sweetest sound the scout
had heard in a long time.
"Why. to play you're asleep when
you aren't" She smiled as though she
didn't understand, and came and sat
down ~ his side.
'.How could you play that all alone?
You didn't know was here, did you?"
The quaint conceit amused them
both, and they laughed together again.
looking frankly into each others faces.
Tell me your name," he urged.
taking one of her small hands into his
large brown one. and handling it as
tenderly as he would delicate piece
of lace.
MY names Daisy; and l live with
mamma and papa over there"
He dropped the hand and looked at
her eagerly. ''Do you know papa? 1
thought you didn't No one ever
comes to see us; papa won't let any
body. and mamma is awful afraid. l
had little brother once. but he died
last month. and I'm all alone now,
and mamma cries whenever talk about
Ossie. so papa won't let me do it any
more. But come here every day and
play and think of Ossie, and oh! l get
awful lonely sometimes playin' alone :"
''Why do you come here Daisy?"
''Why, don't you know? Ossie's bur.
ried here. You had your head on his
grave"
Now the scout made o sudden and
very peculiar resolve. Perhaps he
was married; anyway he must have
been remarkably soft-hearted for .