The Ketchum keystone. [volume] (Ketchum, Idaho) 1885-1899, 1892-04-23
OUR JINs,

We always spoke of them As "our Jims."
They were two Of the best men in camp,
and "best" meant q good deal in those
days. When the Orange Gulch men came
over tn jump our claim it was our two
Jims who rallied US to drive them of, leav-
ing six dead men to be buried in the even
ing. When the toughs and roughs of Old
Mans Hill laid claim to our diggings and
appeared two to one to drive us of, It was
Our Jims again who led the van and en-
abled us to win the victory.
Jim who2 Jim what2 ! do not know.
No one but themselves knew. Now and
then some miner gave his full name, but
we had no use for it. We were Jim and
Bill and Pete to each other, and that alone.
Our Jims were not quarrelsome men.
Big men and brave men never are. They
tented together and were s'pards," and
how it came about that they fell out none
of Us ever learned. One morning, when
they had been terminates for many months,
one Jim packed up and left camp. He
had nothing to say-nothing beyond the
statement that "Me and Jim is out" The
Jim who remained made no statement
whatever. Among ourselves we said there
had been hot word dropped and picked
up just when both men we're out of sorts.
1t was hard work, that hunting for gold.
We worked like slaves and lived far
worse, and terminates quarreled very often.
In day or two we saw that the Jim
Who remained was troubled in his mind.
He had been two proud to hold out his
hand and ask the other Jim to stay, but
now it was hurting him. He grew sullen
and morose, and now and then he paused
in his work and looked up the trail With
4 longing look in his eyes-a forging to
see the other Jim returning to camp. Five
or six days had passed when Cinnamon
came into the camp with note for Jim.
It was written with blackencd stick on
piece of brown paper and read:
Jim-It's case of smallpox, and
won't ask YOU to come. It's just to say
I'm sorry we fell out and to bid you
good-by. jim.
It took three or four of US half an hour
to make out the badly written and mis-.
spelled message, and when we had fin
ished Our Jim walked away to his tent
ana began to pack up. The snow clouds
we're banking up in the west and it was
plain that bad storm was at hand. The
other Jim was twenty eight miles away,
sick and alone in rude cabin At the
abandoned diggings Of Crazy Woman's
Creek. The trail led over the mountain
and through valleys thick with scrub and
rough with powders, and the Cinnamon
was completely broken down when he
reached US.
"You won't start with that storm com
ing on2" we said to Jim as he came out
of his tent With pack on his back.
Jim wants me-good by ~ he replied,
and in i've minutes he was out of sight.
An hour later we were all driven to
shelter, and for three days and nights
there was never break in the storm.
There wasn't tent on the diggings in
sight when the fourth morning came
every one showed out of sight. If we
hadn't been showed under we should have
been frozen to death by the cutting winds.
Jim couldn't have made those twenty
eight miles in less than a day with no
snow under his feet. We know that he
must have persisted in that storm before
midnight.
1t was long three weeks before the
snow went off, and then two of US went up
the trail. All day long we looked for the
dead body of the Jim who bad started out
before the storm, but we did not discover
it. An hour before dark we came to the
abandoned diggings, and caught sight of
the single shanty left standing. We should
find the other Jim in there--dead. Step
by step we advanced, dreading to look in,
and yet feeling that We must. The door
was fast, but the fierce gusts had torn
loose some of the light boards at corner,
and we had view of the interior. Lying
on blanket-on the earth, with another
partly covering them, and lying face to
face with an arm over each other, were
two dead men--our Jims. The ono who
had sent the Chinaman might have been
raving in delirium when the other reach
ed him through that awful storm, but he
heard his voice and knew it. The one
who fought his way over that snowbound
trail, stumbling, falling, praying-buoyed
up by the hope that he would not be too
late, could do nothing after his journey
was ended-nothin3 but lie down and die |
by his partner. n. QUAp.