Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1888-09-28
ale latter question, and Bill had told all he

ale latter question, and Bill had told all he
| knew when he said that.
| Rivers was in a serious condition, and be-
| fore the six hours were up horssman dashed
out of camp and after doctor. 1t was Ute
Bill He could not stand by and hear Rivers
moan and see him toss back and forth in bed
! 1t was too much He wasn't used to it. The
doctor had to make another trip-Bll said
| Rivers was worse.
When the doctor had made an examination
of his patient he declared the worst was
passed, and left Rivers sleeping quietly
under gentle narcotic.
All this tine the girl had not released her
watch by the bedside, and she seemed to be
soothing away the delirium Of the fever in
| gently passing her hands over the sick mans
| temples Her eyes never left off their watch
of every movement of the ''tenderfoot's" face,
and Bill stood by wonderingly, casting fur
/ tive glance at the delicately featured face
bending over his pard's pillow, and trying to
| solve the problem in his mind
Hours passed, and finally, with long sigh,
/ Rivers opened his eyes and looked at Bill
/ leaning over the foot of the bed. Then his
/ wandering attention was fixed on the anxious
| face by his side. There was no glad cry Of
recognition-it was a mutual understanding.
! All the warmth Of his great love was ex-
pressed in the gently whispered name Lii
liam, as he drew her face to his Resting her
head OF his shoulders she told him Of the long
years OF waiting for tidings from him and
the hasty letter from Omaha, which she had
only received few days before. She had
left home, friends, everything and gone TO
seek him III the wild west, she knew not
where. but she had found him And Bill
had disappeared.
A few DAYS afterward one of the ''pards"
gave up his claim TO the httle cabin, and the
minister said the ceremony which linked two
lives into world of their own.
Many and hearty We're the rough congrat-
ulations That evening the miners gathered
at the little home TO say word OF welcome
to the beautiful young bride. Even if it
were spoken by big, rowdy miner like Bill,
there was genuine ring Oh manlinesS about
it, and made her feel quite az home In the
wild, picturesque spot SO far from every
sign of civilization As the men filed out
slowly Rivers conducted his girl wife to the
porch Of the rude cabin, and, standing close
by his side, she sang one verse OF "Home,
Sweet Home" The tender, sympathetic
voice fell on the still night air with a won
derful sweetness, and awakened many old
memories in the hearts Of the rough, coarse
miners gathered there.
Heads were uncovered, and there were
tears wiped hastily away as Bill led them
to the saloon. Was there rough talking
and coarse jests nows No. As each man
raised his glass solemn hush fell upon
the group, broken at last by Ute Bills voice.
1t was choked and unnatural
'Boys." he said, 81 never he'd but one pard;
but l give him up to the best pard man
ever got And I'll never hev another till
get one like his"
Bill set his glass down and walked away
abruptly. 1t was not long until the saloon
was deserted and the camp hushed in the re-
pose of night.
After that Bill did not seem like his old
self He was quiet and solemn. He knew
what was the matter, but did not care to let
the BOYS know where the sunshine had fallen
on his ronqh heart and then SO suddenly been
swept away.
Iue .4exv spring came and the doctor made
another trip to the little cabin. When Ute
Bill went up the next day Rivers led him
into the dainty bedroom and gave him peep
at the tiny baby girl that had come that
over the one of more delicate mold that
was laid in his, and the two men understood
each other. There were tears in Bills eyes
and an ache in his heart which no one but
Rivers should ever know as he turned silently
away.
The miners gathered again in the saloon to
drink to the health of mother and child, and
hear Bill, now glowing with animation, tell
about the baby and its queer ways until they
all wanted to see the youngster vote was
taken, and the camp was to be christened
after the baby, and Bill had forgotten to ask
her name Away he went, and soon re-
turned. He looked sheepish, and finally came
forward and said
''Boys, yer got me this time. They've
called her 'Utellar as near my name they
could get, and it's my layout Whatn ye
hevlo
The glasses clinked merrily, and Mr.. Bill
beamed with happiness.
Not day passed that Bill did not visit the
cottage, and as the wee babe grew to a
toddling, lisping girl, Bill was her chief SYM
pathizer and the boys in camp at last called
him Uncle Bill"
''There's no harm in me lovin' her" he
said one day, as he stroked the curly brown
head nestled against his breast; 1.-THE other
wasn't for me-" And Rivers glanced up
quickly at Bill, and then to his wife, who was
sitting by the doorway with her dainty
fingers busy i'll mending little frock.
at was before knew"-and Bill swallowed
the big lump rising in his throat, and tried to
go on, but his voice broke and he trembled in
the vain effort to suppress his emotion Ris-
ing suddenly he left the cabin.
That was years ago. The mining camp has
and only the lonely cottage
marks the spot where it once stood Stanley
Rivers lives with his wife aad dark eyed girl
in an eastern city and enjoys the wealth he
made in the picturesque spot which now
bears the name of Cheyenne canyon. Bill
never married; he loved the beautiful girl
who sat by the bedside Of his sick ''pard;' he
loved the tiny bace who played upon his
knees and laid her soft cheek against his own.
And when he died they found little faded
shoe which contained slip of paper. It only
said: Give all my dust to my pards baby"
And Ute Bill, the toughest miner in the
camp, was buried near the little cottage in
Cheyenne canyon.-New York Star.
A Very Weak Streak.