The Wichita daily eagle., 1891-11-17

whose face was reflection or my own ana
had become an accomplice in his murder
for might almost have known he would
meet his death when I saw him forced, as
it were to the brake beam. / fixed my eye
upon the cross, and, as 1t grewsmalier to
my sight, it grew larger to my thought. /
knew no peace. One ray of light pierced
the gloom. If Brother Joe had been due
at Humboldt on the 18th, bS express, how
could he have been on the freight train
that arrived there the same night2 Against
this was weighed the torturing thought
that the letter was full of mistaken mo-
tions as to times and places, and, now that
looked at it again, saw clearly that if
he had left home, as was stated, on the
25th, he should have been in Humboldt on
the 18th, and he had not been there at all
Then l went through the whole chapter
again, revolving each passage of it in my
wearied brain, and one part of it seemed TO
stand out more strongly than all the rest
nv strange bond of brotherly sympathy
felt for the man while l sat upon the car
in the dark and cold, and he was down in
that death tempting place under the furni-
ture car. knew little of psychology, and
yet thought it must have been revealed
mournful train jumper was no stranger.
NY brain was in a whirl and the ugliest
thoughts would crowd themselves TO the
top, so that with it all was fairly beside
myself.
We were at Red Buttes before nightfall,
and there we were to pass the westbound
express. The thought of that desert grave
and the terrible meaning it had for me did
ho hnrJ Jorhf
not-prevent me from scanning with in
tense eagerness the faces ef the passengers
who thronged into the station for supper,
for Red Buttes was marked IS" on the
time card. But, of course, was doomed
to disappointment. The passengers came
and went as light hearted as you please,
while 1 stood on the platform with heart
of lead and cursed them for their gayety.
Yes l cursed, for l was a rough man in
those days, and they had no right, ar
gued, to be cheerful when was so down.
cast. went back to my train, stamping
the platform with my heavy boots as
went along and continuing my profanity.
It was with much impatience that
sought out Flanagan on our return to Cow
Greek.
"You say there was nothing on the body
of the-the tramp you buried by which he
could be identifed?" l asked eagerly.
"Niver anything at all"
care you sure there we're no letters-no
papers-not scrap off,
"Hould on-they was; but they was
nothin betune the kivers Nv it that showed
anything at ALL" said the honest fore
man.
"Covers of what?"
"Why, the notebook, to be sure. Oi told
yez about that befoor, didn't OiY
''No; let me see it at once" And I fol-
lowed him with impatient step, as he hur-
ried to his cottage, near the station.
"Here it is" he said, taking down a red
notebook from shelf, ''an if yez kin
foind anything in it that tells who the
thramp was, yell do better thin iver ould
Flanagan kin, or amy one else around
here, for the matther o. that"
I glanced eagerly through the book.
There were some rows of figures, a memo
randum as to certain routes of travel be-
tween New York and Council Bluffs,
number of blank pages, and then this,
written in pencil, and dated at Cheyenne
week back:
'DEAR BROTHER ToM-A fool and his
money! met some men on the train who
induced me to bet all / had on a card game.
1t was swindling trick, of course, and 1
lost everything. l might have gone
through after all had not one Of the villains
stolen my railroad ticket. The conductor
put me off here, and 1 suppose must re-
main until l can obtain some money. Can
you send me fifty dol'-
Then pride had made the point of the
pencil run across the page in heavy lines
again and again The writing was Joe's
He had never finished the letter. He had
preferred to beat his way to Humboldt,
like common train jumper, rather than
to call on any one for aid.
"Oi tould yez they was nothin in it," said
Flanagan, reaching for his pipe, "an now
We see Oh know o. what l was talkiR. Yer
conducthor is wavin fur yez. Will yez
leave me the book~
But thrust it into my pocket. I tried
TO say something to Flanagan, but there
was that in nay throat which forbade
speech; and so with leaden feet made my
Way to the train.
1t was the wrong time of year for flow
ers, and there never are many at Hum
boldt, but gathered all could find and
took them next day to that lone grave by
the railroad track. That was after l had
undergone the worst Of all the hours of
my life-the hour in which wrote the let
ter to mother, which followed my telegram.
But Joe does not sleep in the desert now.
He lies under the old elm on the hillside;
and there is white shaft of marble above
his head instead of the wooden cross
Frank B. Millard IN San Fran cisco Argo-
naut.