The Manitowoc pilot. [volume] (Manitowoc, Wis.) 1859-1932, 1888-06-28

The town of Gibson, in the Indian
territory, is located on the Eerdigris
river, an arm of the Arkansas. 1t is
also on the border line of the Creek
and Cherokee countries. and is nine
miles distant by wagon road from the
military post of Fort Gibson. A few
miles to the south the town of MuskO-
gee furnishes its share of local excite
mcnt, and is the telcgraphing point of
many sensational killings. To the east
just twenty miles Tallequah offers the
most decided touch Of metropolitan
life that the residents of Gibson can
reach within day in the saddle. Some
eight or ten houses, including the store
that holds the postoflice, one or two
general groceries, the hotel, and rail
road station building, making the sum
total of Gibson's claim upon the Ga
Zetteer.
Duties incident to the writer's assO-
citation with an eastern paper made a
stay of several days at Gibson nccessa-
ry during the early part of last sum-
mer There was delightful novelty
in the surroundings. and refreshing
vigor in the rude simplicity of things
and people Character was more rug
gcd, truth seemed more direct, and
tenderness held more tears from the
very contrast with its settings. The
great vines climbed and intcrlaced the
walnut timber that Skirted the pretty
streams; birds of brilliant colCrs were
on every side, and the rank luxury Of
the grasses seemed in harmony with
the buNom outlines of the Indian girls
that ripened early, unconscious Of the
richness of their health.
The cowboys came to Gibson on their
skittish ponies and dashed away again
after a bucking start. The Indians and
the half-brccdS in their SombreroS.
shirts, and leather breecheS came lazi-
ly up and moodily departed in the twi.
light-to the stranger perpleXing eni|-
mas of the cleaning, themselves the
lingering rays of a great people whose
light had almost gone.
On one quiet evening of that memor-
able week. memorable for its great
quiet, the proprietor of the inn was
standing with the writer on the porch.
The conversation had been upon his
haIf-brecd daughter wife was a
full-blOod Creek. The Girl, with the
pan of salt, was sprinklin@ it upon
some big stones that were in the mead
ow, Just in front. and the sober COWS
were Just coming up to lick 1t.
Yes, we always give 'em salt when
it looks a bit like rain. An when they
smell the damp in the air they come in
as reg'lar as can be to get it, Them
stones ale slick as glass where they've
licked em for the las twenty years. "
The girl always does this for the
cows?n
"'Cept when she's to school. Then
Jim tends to it.
Jim was the farm hand, and now he
was sitting at the table whiting.
" don't know what I'm goin' to do
with jim. He used to he one o. the
smartest hands aroun' this country,
but he's gittin' awtly no count drink
in and fightin'."
drinking? Isn't it against your
laws to sell liquors in the Indian coun-
try?"
"oh, yes; but Jim gets it some
where
After little further talk the inn
Keeping farmer strolled down to his
stable to turn the horses out for the
night, and the writer joined ,iim on the
platform.
Jim
"Yes.n
"You were not raised in this section.
You have seen considerable of the
world.
about rs much as most fellows of
S5."
How long have you been here?"
"With the old man?n
Yes
"'Bout twelve years.
Jim, we've only known each other
a few days. and it isn't my business.
perhaps, but you're getting tired of
your life here. The folks say you are
not-well- not as steady as YOU used
to be- What is the trouble? Tomor-
row | am going back to the states
maybe never viii see You again, and
it kind of occurred to me that you'd
like to talk about yourself. ! believe
everybody feels that way at times"
jim whitfield long time; SO long
that the fear presented itself that he
was going to rebuke the queStiouer by
his silence, and then:
Them meader larks-hear EN-?
They make me feel bluer'n death
them and that gal there by the COWS. "
The plaintive whistle of the meadow
lark was all about, and the figure of
the maiden duSky, duSkily outlined
against the evening sky. suggested the
soft treatment of the etching of the
Angelus. No wonder, jim, you feel
blue.
when first come here | was %.
Ny hnme was in MizzurN. but Id heeu