The weekly Union times. [volume] (Union C.H., South Carolina) 1871-1894, 1889-02-08
CHIPS CURE.

"cayuse" pony to the gnawed rack,
and joined the group of cowboys
lounging in the shade Of Ashburn's
postofflce. With each conner the first
question was:
"Hows Chip7"
mo BETTER" Old Man Ashburn re-
piled, each time.
'tLooks to me like that thar was
mighty heavy load to put onto a child
with the gaudy Mexican sash about
his waist. "a load NV pain an misery
big enough to break a man down, an
she noth'n' but a childl"
Yer right, only she h'ain't q child"
spoke red checked Posy; she's
How old, Ashburn2"
Seventeen" Ashburn answered.
Hanged if knowed." said Santa
Fe. "Reckon yer right; but got so
ust to seein' her amongst us, a-ridin'
the cayuses an dancin' an laughin' an
singin' like a happy child, that I'd
plumb fergot she'd growed up"
me, too" said Reddy Rose.
TIN nightly afeard she'll never
ride nur run no more" said Old Man
Ashburn. ever sence she was n
throwed she's ben a-gittin' slowly but
shoreIy worse an worse, an'"-
WAL" interrupted Sante Fe, with
grim earnestness, 81 h'ain't never ben
sorry fer the way we run out o. the
Range the cuss that roped the cayuse
an got her throwed."
"Nur meW cried a cowboy chorus.
at the sound of a faint call, Old
Man Ashburn fastened within the
building. Presently he appeared,
dragging carefully behind him q
splint bottomed rocking chair, in
which reclined the wasted form of
little Chip, Ashburn's crippled daugh-
ter.
At sight of her, tho impulsive cow
boys waved their broad hats and went
through the motions of shouting lusti-
!y. But very little sound came from
their distended mouths.
Hello, boysp tho little cripple
saluted, weakly. 'T jest couldn't stay
in there any longer when 1 heard you
all talking. Pa didn't want me to
"She lowed" interrupted Ashburn,
''that she'd come out yero if she'd to
crawl on her hands an knees, an I
reckon she'd"-
Santa Fe.
That's what she'd a-done," agreed
Reddy Rose.
."How nice the sunshine seemsl"
said the little cripple 1--WE been
arthinkin' often that mebby I'd never
git out into it ag'in to run an ride as
ust to. Some way"-.
SAINT" whispered Posy, hanged if
h'alnt sorry we stopped at runnin'
out the cuss that got her throwed."
Me, tool" returned Santa Fe. sort
to a-killed him then an thar"
That's what we ort" agreed Reddy
Rose.
Even the slight exertion attendant
upon the short trip from the little bed
room to the door seemed almost too
much for Chips enfeebled frame. Her
face grew paler, and she leaned weari-
~ .SsktIl PECK in the he, old rocking chair. ::
boys" she piped. "I"-
old man." interrupted Posy, "you
better take her back now"
But | don't want to CO." the girl
protested; II want to stay an see the
As easily as if she had been of but
feathers weight, Posy took her in
his strong arms and carried her back
Into her little bedroom carefully and
very tenderly. His brown cheek was
close TO tohs.s,l.-s ha. .,Sla sonc
..----.zNn who, Chip2" he whispered.
can you, Posy," she answered,
softly.
"Boys," Old Man Ashburn was say
ing as Posy rejoined the group about
the door, things looks mighty black.
She's a -sutferin' an a sufferin'
an'"-
Posy rushed to his cayuse, flung
himself into the saddle, and dashed
away across the prairie, followed by
his comrades.
Il couldn't stand it," he told them,
as the ponies bounded away to tho
eastward. 81 jest couldn't stand to
hear that pore ole cuss a-tellin' of little
death, an he, her dad, not able to help
herp
..Say," said Santa Fe, suddenly, I'VE
''You betp interrupted Posy. 1--WE
ort, an we will do"--
'Thar comes Hank - broke in Relldy
Rose, as the little mules and faded
blackboard that comprised the turnout
Of Hank Bitters, the mail carrier,
emerged from the distant timber.
'Hank's got a passenger"
Obedient to the touch of the nuge
Mexican spurs, the cayuses bounded
toward the approaching vehicle at the
cowboys favorite gait, keen run.
Hank Bitters' passenger, an old
gentleman with phenomenally bald
head and o general appearance of
almost owlish wisdom, had been grow
ing more and moro uncomfortable
ever since entering the cattle country.
The conversation of the stage driver,
and later Of Hank Bitters, had not
served to allay any Of his apprehension. .
,W'y," said Hank, with great gray
ity, "some uv:these yere cowboys is
pizon-plumb pizonl. An .recklessl
,rWal, reckless .h'ain't no name for it'll
They're badp .,~.
His auditor 1shivered.
sakk .Dura sight quicker, game of 'em. q,