The Press., 1892-11-24

.sThen rrn dunn glad there's no saw bones about. don't believe mater means mans leg or arm to go until she breaks the solid bone, so that it ain't to be sot nohow. But what do you allow to dos Lamm ahead or squat here?"
 .You are the oldest; you have most experience; l will take your advice.
 ssOctoher is sweet as the smile of gal when she hears that her man has made fifteen hundred dollars off the purceeds of 8 half acre of onions, to the mines; but these yer fall storms is reg'lar h. juns;~ they light down 'thout sending on hand bills. We ought to be p'intin for home if we can.
 "But Brent's wound! Can he travelY
 "Now, about that wound. there's two ways of lookin at it. We ken stop here. or we ken poot for Laramie. l allow that it oughter take that arm of his'n a month to make itself right. Now in month there'n be p'r'aps three feet of snow whar we stand.
 'sWe must go on.
 Besides, lookerhere! Accordin to me the feelins mean suthin, when mans got any. He'll be all the time worryin about the gal till he gets her to her far ther. It's my judg she'd better never see the old man agin, but wouldn't want my Ellen to quit me, eff was an unhealthy gonoph like him. Daughters ought to stick closer'n twitch grass to their fathers, and sons to their mothers, and she ain't one to knock off lovin anybody she's guy herself to love. No, she's one of those stiddy kind d-stiddye as the stars. He knows that, that there pardener of yourn knows it, and his feelins won't give his arm no rest until she's got the old man to take care of and follow off on his next streak. So we must poot for Lara mic, live or die. Thar'll be doctor there. Elf we ken find the way it shouldn't take us more'n ten days I'll poot him on Bills sorrel, jest as gentle horse as Bill was that rode him, and we'll see of we hain't worked out the bad luck out of all of us for one while"
 Armstrong's opinion was only my own, expressed Oregonly.
 'That there A. & A. mule, " says Arm strong, twas Bills and mine, and this stuff in the packs was ours. l don't know what the fellers did with the two mean mustangs they was ridin when they found us fust on Bear riyer-used 'em up, I reckon"
 Here Brent hailed us cheerily.
 Look alive therel We idlers here want to be travelling"
 "I told you so," said Armstrong. ''He understands this business jest as we'll as we do. He'll go till he draps. Thar's grit into him, eff know grit"
 Yes; but when saw him sit still with his back against the spruce tree, and re- membered his exuberant life of other days Responded. He soon took occa- sion to speak to me apart
 'Dick," said he, ''you see how it is. am not good for much. If we were alone you and might settle here for month or so, and write Bubbles from the Brunnen.' But there is lady in the case It is plain where she belongs know every inch of the way to Lara mic. l can take you through in a week"-he paused and quavered a little as he continued-"f I live. But don't look so anxious. shall"
 ''It would be stupid for you to die now, John Brent the Lover, with the ob- stacles cut away and an heroic basis of operations.
 "A wounded man, perhaps dying man, has no business with love. will never present her my services and ask pay. But, Dick, if should wear out you will know what to say to her for me-"
 We grouped to depart.
 "I shall remember all this for scores of sketches" said Miss Clitheroe.
 And indeed there was material. The rocks behind threading away and mar rowing into the dim gorge of the alley; the rushing fountains, one with its cloud of steam; the two great spruces; the greensward; the thickets, and above them far away glimpse of world, all run to top and finging itself up into heaven, tumult of crag and pinnacle. So much for the scenery. And for per- sonages, there was Armstrong, with his head turbaned, saddling the white ma chine; the two mules, packed and talk ing their last nibbles of verdure; Miss Clitheroe, in her round hat and with a green blanket rigged as riding skirt, mounted upon the sturdy roan; Brent resting on my shoulder and stepping on my knee as he climbed painfully to his seat on the tall sorrel; Don Fulano wait ing, proud and eager. And just as we were starting a stone fell from overhead