The Arizona sentinel., 1886-03-27

oOH"h 1O1 ONOLy pOher gdluo, ana every
 body allus hated to set in with him.
 They lived poor enough in the little
 shanty up the bluff there. I don't know
 what they'd done if it hadn't been for
 Jake's wife, a tearin' smart woman,
 who took in washin' and did a little
 sewin' and mendin' for the neighbors,
 while Jake was spendin' what money he
 got agin the Golden Gate bar.
 ''They had little gal, as booty lit tie thing as ever you see, with eyes as
 blue as pool on the top of the noun tains, and hair that shone like streaks of bright gold in the rock. Her name 1t was Maggie, and at the time I'm tellln' about she must a bin seven or eight years old. She was just as cute, and pretty and smart as they ever make 'em, and Jake was mighty proud of her, as we'll he might be- Why, I've seen her come down to the Golden Gate and take Jake home up the moun- tam when le was so late the stars was be- glnnin to fade out O sight before the sunrise.
 "One. night lot of us was over to the Golde'l Gate Twas playin' poker with a Sacramento chap and another feller I dd'A't know, but who seemed to be a tr'.end O his'n. The creek had rig e.hout three feet that day, and it looked mighty scary for every
 thing in its reach. Cy Parker, who
 owned the saw-mill a little above, had
 been pokin' round with a long pole pretty much all day to see how high
 she was, and how fast she was risin' ,
 and he looked mighty solem, I tell you. Folks Twin in the houses along the banks had moved out, and just be- fore dark everybody in town had been watchin the bridge, fearin' every in stant to see it carried away. It was still ramin', and the wind and the waters were tryin' to see which could mSt de the most noise. We kep' on a. Playin', me and the Sacramento man
 and the other feller, not carin' for the
 flood nor any thing else but the game.
 Jake and the other boys, who had got
 tired watchin' was snoozing around
 the hot stove. 'Magine my feelin's
 if you can, when I got a hand on the
 Sacramento chaps deal with four kings
 in it. 1 backed her for all I had, just as you'd done, stranger, and the Sacra-
 mento chap stayed! But fill me with
 buckshot if he didn't show over me
 with four pesky aces and scoop in the pot. That wound up the game for me.
 1 sat down in comfortable place by the
 stove with a nIght-cap of my regular
 gin and water. Daylight was stealin' in through the the drippin' winders. It
 was still rainin' and the wind was still
 howlin' just about as it is now. All at
 once heard somebody callin'. What I had imagined before was wild, scared voice some time l was now sartin about. l woke up the boys and we went out to see what was the matter. Itwas hard to believe your eyes. The mill was gone, the bridge was gone. Every house that stood anywhere near the banks had been carried away. Trees that were high and dry before were bendin' their boughs be- fore the ragin' waters, and the boilin', tumblin', foamin' creek was tearin' along full of logs, lumber, drift-wood, wrecks of houses, and every thing you could think of. But we didn't stop to look round much. For there on the other side O the creek down to the waters edge was Jake's wife, stand in in the gray mornin' with her hands at her chin, clutchin' and old, faded shawl around her head, and her dress soakin' wet and switchin' in the wind. Jake, she called, in a scared, wild voice, is Maggie over there?' Jake giv sudden start, turned pale as ghost, reeled as if stunned, and answered back, Mo- as it was the hard est word he ever spoke in all his life. I'll never forget, if I lives to be hun dred, the shriek of that poor woman as she fell in a heap to the ground.
 ''Ye see, she'd sent Maggie down to the Golden Gate to get Jake, fearin' he might fall into the run if he tried to go home alone while full. Every body thought she must a-ben on the bridge when it went down the creek. Jake took on awful. We got up a party of us and went sarchin' down both banks for the poor little girls body. We didn't find it for purity nigh week. The rain had stopped, the sun was shinin' brighter'n ever and the creek had gone down agin to where it be- longed. It allus seemed to me as if that tree down there was claspin' that poor little dead gal in its arms in a kind O savin'-like way. For, tangled in the branches of big fallen tree about a mile down the stream, and partly xiv cred up with leaves we found her. It was purity place. There was a little clearin' near by in the shade of some hirr fhof fhn hi,.lo | spring was chipperin' round in. Below was the creek, a as if sorry for what he had done. On the other side was the moun- tains, bristlin' with pine trees that shone in the sun as if they had been vanished. There wasn't no graveyard here then, and Jake, who didn' believe in churches and regular funerals and such things, allowed he'd bury her right there in the little clearin'. One of us went back for Jake's wife, and to tell the folks who hadn't heard she'd been found. There was a preacher in the sarchin' party, a chap that he'd been tryin' to get up some religious meetin's in the hall over the Golden Gate. When every body was ready he said little prayer, and blamed if what that preacher said about that poor little dead gal there didn't start the tears a-fowin' in every body's eyes. Then Jake, who said as how no one but hisself should dig that grave, took pick than one of us had borrowed from a mine near by. Almost the first lick he struck Jake stopped sudden, turned pale, and rubbed his eyes with his fist. But every body knew Jack was feelin' mighty bad, and it's purity hard thing, stranger, for man to dig a grave which he's goin' to bury his only child in. Then Jake took another lick. Then he stopped down and looked hard at the gravel he'd just turned up.