Wichita eagle. [volume] (Wichita, Kan.) 1886-1890, 1889-02-27

He looked me full IN the face and smiled.
His eyes seemed very large and his cheeks
were bloodless. 1t saddened me to look ct
him.
Unjust go now" said he. 81 hope you'll
enjoy the oranges"
was mending fast and expected to be
out very soon. Jack did not come again
that day. Next morning the cook brought
me cup of tea.
"Where is Jackr' asked.
"Busy."
I thought of him all day, but he did not
come.
Cook said /, at last, 81 want you to
tell me the truth about Jack"
uDon't YOU fretr he answ ered.
"But must know"
"WelI, he's not able to be about"
"Where is heP'
ssIn No. g. But you can't go near him;
he's got the feverl Dehriousi Wouldn't
know his own mothera'
"Who's nursing hinl"
81 am-what little he gets. We can't
make hospital out of the Charley
Roberts"
Cook tried to stop me, but I staggered
across the cabin into No. 8. could hardly
recognize Jack as he lay on the bunk, his
face was so flushed and his eyes so blood
shot. He had dropped down, too weak 70
take his clothes off. took his hand and sat
beside him.
slack, my boy, what's wrongs"
Nothing, Sam"
Jack never said much. He was better at
doing than saying
Hooked at the poor fellow in despair.
had never nursed sick person in my life.
The captain came in while sat there.
eve must have doctor, captain" said L.
"Might as well want gold mlne," he re-
piled.
but look at Jack, captain. What can
we do!"
81 don't know"
ssSam," said Jack, looking at me with
strange expression, ''you know my sister
Annie?'
"Certainly, Jack"
"Iwant you to tell her about me-"
"You will soon see her, Jack"
ssNo, Sam; I'm going"
"We're both going home"
eyes, going home. I'm tired! Tired"
"Then rest, Jack 1 shall be here"
stake my hand, Sam"
81 have your hand, my boy. Try to
sleep"
YES" he went on, pointing, "there's
Annie at the door. She looks more and
more like mother as she grows older. She's
glad to see me from the way she smiles"
"Indeed she is, Jack"
"That's Sans voice; he got over the
fever well. / believe / had it, too. Hear
old Point barking at the gate; he's most as
glad as Annie TO see me back. All, Sam, it's
good to be back in Pennsylyania-God 8
country Annie Annier'
He fell back in a stupor, with his eyes
set. felt spasm pass through his frame,
after which his hand lay in mine like life
less thing looked up questioningly at the
captain.
"God help him He is dead"
ooh, surely notp'
"Deadl" he repeated.
Only when | bent over him did believe
it Jack was dead.
"He died working for Others" said the
captain, and in lieu of better words these
must stand for his epitaph.
can only tell Jacks story in plain way.
can not FL your eyes with tears as mine
are filed, as there is no art behind my
words. You read of good men-unselfish
and heroic men that poets sing of and his
torians immortalize-but here there was
one that nobody ever heard of. Who
was there to read a funeral sermon
over him in lonely place on the
river bank next day? Who prayed over
the rough pine bexl Not a prayer.
not a hymn at the funeral; only
some tears that came Of genuine grief. We
left him there on the river bank with a
piece of driftwood to mark his grave, which
the next food would sweep away. found
a little flower growing there-a violet, I
think, which brought away for Annie.
Jack was as homely man as ever you saw,
big, raw boned fellow, with a twinkle of
the eye that made one laugh. Had you
been hunting for a man Of polish and educa-
ton you would not have picked him out
His head had not been cultivated at the ex-
pense of his heart He used strong lam
guage sometimes when rope got tangled
or the pumps worked hard or the coffee
didn't suit him. I am not trying to picture
him as perfect; want you to know him as
he was. His voice in a sick room was as
gentle as a child's; he had big, tender
heart, kindlier than most women have, and
a hand that served friend until ready to
drop from WEAKNESS. / remember him as
he bent over me while I lay helpless with
fever, a kindly light beaming in his face
that beautifed it learned then how IN
selfish he was, and my heart went out to him,
as yours would have gone had you known
him. This was Jack at his best-H. D.
Mason, in Pittsburgh Bulletin.