The Maryville times. (Maryville, Tenn.) 1884-1944, 1886-11-10
NOT PLAYING POSSUM.
The Brave Act Of q Scout In the
t,# 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 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. &eB
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 ststeliest height;
when. the deer came fearless to drink
from the brook. and tho snake seldom
sounded It's 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, futtered
its leaves in surprise ons day over the
verturesome head of the first oil scout
to traverse these forsaken paths.
A New Highlander. young and sup
pie, with all the cunning and courage
Of q 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
lnents at the ''mystery." then sinking
in the ravine beyond. He was fond
of such adventures for the excite
ment's sake; no received fixed wage.
and was not prompted. therefore, 70
engage in his work by avarice or ma
levOlence. And AZ he reclined In the
grateful shade Of the oak, painting
from the exertion Of scaling 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 warblcd
tuneful greeting
It 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, forgctful
of duty. lay outstretched beneath the
oak dreaming of the stately elms Of
New Haven. When he awoke 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 8
small child gazing compassionately
upon him through violet eyes.
"Oh! you're not dead. are youP
she cried. clasping her hands and her
little bosom palpitatlng.
"No. indeed. Don't 1 look alivep
"You do now. but you didn't wher
you was SO quiet.
This child was wonderfully inter
esting thing to the scout. He hadn'
talked to one for year. . d..
How did you know I wasn't play
ing ,possum'" -,
II never played that. What is itp'
He laughed and she chimed in like {
silver bell. the sweetest sound the scou
had heard in long time.
"Why, to play you're asleep wher
you aren't" She smiled as though sh,
didn't understand. and came and ga
down by his side.
"How could you play that all alone
You didn't know l was here, did youP'
The quaint conceit amused then
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 hi
large brown one, and handling it q
tenderly rs he would delicate piec
of lace.
my names Daisy; and l live will
mamma and papa over there"
He dropped the hand and looked a
her eagerly. do you know papa?
thought you didn't No one eve
comes to see us; papa won't let any
body. and mamma is awful afraid.
had little brother once. but he diet
last month, and I'm all alone now
and mamma cries whenever l talk abou
Ossie. SO papa won't let me do it an,
more. But l come here every day an,
play and think of Ossie, and oh! ge
awful lonely sometimes playin' alone.
"Why do yon come here Dsisyp"
"Why, don't you know? Ossie's bur
ried here. You had your head on hi
grave"
Now the scout made 3 sudden an,
very peculiar resolve. Perhaps h
was married; anyway he must hav
been remarkably soft-hearted for