Barbour County index. [volume] (Medicine Lodge, Kan.) 1880-current, 1889-04-24
ISAS WEDNESDAY, APRIL 24, 1889.

that day. Next morning the cook brought
me cup of tea.
"Where is Jack2" asked.
"Busyn
thought of him all day, but he did not
come.
"Cook," said 1, at last, 81 want you to
tell me the truth about Jack"
Don't you fret" he answered.
But must know"
"Well, he's not able to be about"
''Where is hef'
"In No. 8. But you can't go near him;
he's got the feverl Deliriousl Wouldn't
know his own mother2''
''Who's nursing hIm2"
II am-what little he gets We can't
make a hospital out of the Charley
Roberts,
Cook tried to stop me, but staggered
across the cabin into No. 8. 1 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 to
take his clothes of. took his hand ana sat
beside him.
''Jack, my boy, what's wronga"
Nothing, Sam"
Jack never said much. He was better at
doing than saying.
Hooked at the poor fellow in despair. 1
had never nursed a sick person in my life.
The captain came in while l sat there.
'sWe must have doctor, captain" !" said 1.
'Might as well want gold mlne," he re-
piled.
but look at Jack, captain What can
we do2n
81 don't know"
''Sam," said Jack, looking at me with a
strange expression, ''you know my sister
Annie?n
"Certainly, Jack.''
'Iwant you to tell her about me-"
'You will soon see her, Jack"
mo, Sam; I'm going"
''We're both going home"
'Yes, going home I'm tiredl Tiredp'
''Then rest, Jack. shall be here''
"Take my hand, Sam.''
II have your hand, my boy Try to
sleep"
"Yes," he went on, pointing, there's
Aanie 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 we'll l believe / had it, too. Hear
old Point barking at the gate; he 8 most as
good to be back in Fennsylvania-God Is
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 a life
less thing. looked up questioningly at the
captain.
"God help himl He is dead"
"Oh, surely notr'
''Deadp' 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.
l can only tell Jacks story in a plain way.
can not fill your eyes with tears as mine
are filled, as there is no art behind my
words. You read of good men -unselflsh
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 a lonely place on the
the rough pine box? 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 flood would sweep away. found
little flower growing there-a violet,
think, which brought away for Annie.
Jack was as homely man as ever you saw,
a big, raw-boned fellow, with a twinkle OF
the eye that made one laugh. Had you
been hunting fora 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 Ian
guage sometimes when rope got tangled
or the pumps worked hard or the coffee
didn't suit him. am not trying to picture
him as perfect; I want you to know him as
he was. His voice in q sick room was as
gentle as a child's; he had big, tender
heart, kindlier than most women have, and
hand that served a friend until ready to
drop from WEAKNESS. remember him as
he bent over me while lay helpless with
fever, kindly light beaming In his face
that beautified 1t. learned then how un-
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.