The Dalles times-mountaineer. [volume] (The Dalles, Or.) 1882-1904, 1890-02-08
awoke US to realization of the dread
truth.
'Joe Rogers is dyin'I"

Joe Rogers is dyln' ]"
Joe Rogers dying Surely there mus
be some mistake, we asked of our com
panions more with our eyes than words
Why, he was only hurt day or so ago
and we none of US had thought hin
seriously injured-but there was II,
mistaking the decisive seEtence-Jo,
Rogers was near his end!
We all loved Joe for his brave, Lones
heart, and his whole souled simplicity
) He lived as God had made him, and NJ
| art of society had covered up the manhood
of his rugged heart. He was stranger
alike to metropolitan refinement and cul.
tuied hypocrisy. and as he foated down
the wild channel of his life, he had not
left an enemy on either hand. When the
| announcement had reached the first wagon
it halted, the other wagons circled around
it and we came to camp. As we gathered
around old Morrison's wagon, there was
no face so hardened but it bore the i'm
press of sorrow; there was no voice so ruoe
but it sank into the ssddest of undertones
Daddy Morrison was holding the sufferer S
head upon his knee, and the marvel was
how his great, rough bands could smooth
the hot forehead so gently.
"Don't worry, ole chap" said Daddy
Morrison in shaking voice as Joe gasped
and struggled tor breath. Cant raise
ye up little higher?"
4. The sick man shook his head Some
one thrust flask of liquor through the side
of the wagon where the canvas had been
tied up to enhance the supply of fresh air
Old MORRISON put it to Joe's lips, but he
turned away.
"Not now, not now, Daddy I've got ter
60 an that stuff can't keep me-"
He closed his eyes and remained still a
short time-so still that Daddy Morrison
looked up at the boys with fearful eyes
and they asked him quickly:
"1s he deadT"
"Not YETI said Joe himself.opening his
eyes and smiling "a little. 81 hain't gone
yet. 1 smell the flow'rs, an grasses, an
the perfume of the perary, an hear the
wild rice rustlin2this is the place fur to
bury me. This is the place fur to bury
Joe." He relapsed into silence once more,
and again started softly to words. They's
big marsh near here, an they's some
buttes off north of US, hsln't they2"
-"Yes, joe"
can the suns jest droppln' down be-
hind the perary swell, hain't it. Daddyw
''Yes, joe"
"Then take me outen the wagon, boys
want ter be where kin see 'em fur
the last time. It'll git dark purity soon
yes, s,awful dark fur me, an 1 love the
buttes, an sky an birds-the birds is
gone now, s'pose. Hain't none of 'em
singing round here is they, boys2" /
"Ye'll see them birds tomorrow, ole
feller"
Yes, I'll see them birds tomorrow;
I'll see, EN- an they'll sing fer Joe.
Take me out, boys" .M.
Many ard willing bands lifted the poor
fellow from the wagon TO pile of buffalo
robes and blankets on the ground, and
Joe, resting on his friends Knee, looked
off toward the dark coteaux, then across
the moor, rustling and signing with its
rank grass.
Don't mind ME, boys" said he; "turn
out yer cattle an git yer suppers. Joe
Rogers is goln' ter live till purity nigh
mornin'. He's goiD' ter spend the night
here on the perary an then he's goin' ter
sleep here till Gabriefs trumpet wakes
im.n .a
The men went about their preparations
fJr the evening meal in half hearted
manner and Daddy Morrison still attend
ed the sufferer.
"What dye know bout religion,
Daddyw asked Joe when the two were
left alone. "I'm jest bout where feller
thinks of 1t eft he ever does"
81 do know what ter think, Joe, only
jest live right an die right an yer all
right. That's what I've allus argued"
That's what I've allus thought, Daddy,
but mebbe they's somethin' else. Kin
you read, ole man %
81 can't, Joe-but low Dick Peters
kin if ye don't git past four Or five letters.
Shall yell fur 'im2" -
mo, never mind. Jest reach inside
this ole shirt an get the book you'll find
there.'
The old man obeyed and drew dIngy
little Testament into sight.
kin you sing, Daddy?"
"Never singed in my life, Joe, but Dick
Peters! Ye jest ought TO hear I'm sing
Lizzie, Ole Gall an I Stood Pat an them
dye want. I'm Joe?'
sNo. Open that book, Daddy"
Daddy Morrison opened the book aim
lessly and it parted just at the place
lock of yellow hair was pressed between
the leaves.
"What's that, Joe?"
.sIt was the kids, Daddy-'Joe's kid
everybody called her. Ye know told
ye the story. There, let me take it In
my hand. Now put the book back an
lay me down an I'll sleep little. I'm
tired am my heads all burnin'' up. That
will do. Yer awful good ter me, Daddy.
I want yer to take my horse an saddle
only be good ter Prince-mind, Daddy,
be good ter him. Good night, ole man"
He fell back on his rude bed and seemed
to doze off into sUft sleep, and Daddy
after coverleg him with blanket to ward
off the night dews. drew little to one
side where he could watch and be at hand
when needed. =.
After supper one or two of the boys ap-
preached noiselessly and lifted the blanket,
but Joe appeared to be resting SO COM
fortably they did not arouse him.
The night passed. The gray dawn was
filling the east when Daddy Morrison
went to Joe's side and raised the covering.
Alb, the early morning showed him what
the night had failed to disclose-Joe
Rogers was dead His face was peaceful,
nay, almost smiling, and his cold shands
pressed the yellow curl to bis silent breast.
--soe-- az