The Seattle post-intelligencer. [volume] (Seattle, Wash. Terr. [Wash.]) 1888-1914, 1892-08-14

ever, still thoughtful. "Why ShOt<ad
Only ought to tell you that Susy Peyton
miles from here. and it might reach their
ears. She's quite young lady now. ana
if wouldn't tell her story to strangers
don't think you ought to, JIM"
He said this so pleasantly that eves, the
skeptical Jim even forgot what he beaeved
were the .'airs and graces" of self abnega.
ton, and said: Lets 60 inside and I'll
introduce you" and turned to the house.
But Clarence Brant drew back. I'm
going on as soon as my horse is fed, Tor
I'm on a visit to Peyton, and ! in
tend to push as far as santa
Inez still tonight. l want to talk
with you about yourself, Iim."'
he added gently. .your prospects ana
your future. heard. he went on, hesitat-
ingiy. "that you were at woES in
restaurant in San Francisco. + am
glad to see that you are at least
your own master here" he glanced st the
wagon-''you are selling things, Isupnose?
For yourself or another? Is that team
yours? Come" he added, still pleasantly,
but in an older and graver voice, with per-
haps the least touch of experienced au-
thority, ''be frank, JIM Which is it?
Never mind what things you've tool in
there-tell me the truth about you9self.
Can help you in any way? Believe me.
/ should like to. We have been old friends
whatever ulIcronCG Ill our luck jill
yours STILL"
Thus adjured the redoubtable JIM in
hoarse whisper, with furtive eye or the
house, admitted that he was travelling for
an ltinerant peddler whom he expected to
join later in the settlement; that he@ had
his own methods of disposing of his wares,
and (darkly). that his proprietor and the
world generally had better not inteTfere
with him; that with a return to more
confidential lightness) he had already
Worked the Wild West Injin business"
so successfully as to dispose of his wares,
particularly in yonder house. and might
do even more if not prematurely. and
wantonly blown upon. gone back on"
or ''given away"
"But wouldn't you like to settle DOWN
on some bit of land like this and improve
it for yourself?" said Clarence. s'All
those valley terraces are bound to rise in
value, and meantime you would be snde-
pendent. 1t could be managed, Jifn;
think I could arrange it for you." He
went on with a slight glow of youthf,1 en-
thusiasm: Write to ME at Peyson's
ranch, and I'll see you when come lack,
and We'll hunt up something for you to-
gether." AS Jim received the proposit ton
with kind OF gloomy embarrassment, he
added lightly, with glance at the farm
house: ut might be near here, you
know, and you'd have pleasant neiglIbors
and even, eager listeners to your dig ad-
ventures"
you'd better come in a mint before
you co." said Jim clumsily, evadiag a
direct reply. Clarence hesitated moa1ent
and then yielded. For an equal mor1lent
Jim Hooker was torn between secret zeal
ousy of his old comrades graces and 3 de-
sire to present them as familiar assacia-
quickly appeased. Need it be said that
the two women received this 1eck and
foam of super-civilizatiou they knew
little of as almost an impertinence COM
pared to the rugged. gloomy, pathetic and
equally youthful hero of an adventurous
wilderness of which they knew still
iess9 What ;a ayailed the courtesy and
beside the mysterious gloom and
Yet they received him patronizingly.
as one who was like themselves, au ad-
mirer of manly grace and power, and the
recipient of Jim's friendship. The farmer,
alone. seemed to prefer Clarence, ana yet
the latter's tacit Endorsement of 'sRed
Jim" through his evident previous 1nti-
macy with him. impressed the man in
Jim's favor. Ali of which Clarence=saw
with that sensitive perception whitehead
given him an early insight into human
weakness, yet still had never shakea his
youthful optimism. He smiled httle
| Jul Jas Opculy lFatSTuHl 10
Jim, courteous to his host and fafnily.
and, as he rode away in the faint moon
light, magnificently opulent in his lareesse
to the farmer-his first and only assertion
of his position.
The farmhouse. struggling barn and
fringe of dusty willows, the white donse of
the motionless wagon with the hanging
frying pans and kettles showing in the
moonlight like black silhouettes against
the staring canvas, all presently sank be-
hind Clarence like the details Of a dream,
and he was alone with the moon, the
hazy mystery of the level grassy plain and
the monotony of the unending road. As
he rode along he thought of that o1her
dreary plain, white with alkali patches and
brown with rings of deserted campfres,
known to his boyhoOd of deprivation. de-
tendency, danger and adventure, ODDLY
enough with strange delight, and his
later years of study, monastic secIusion
and final ease and independence with an
uneasy sense of wasted existence
bered his homeless childhood in the
South, where servants and slaves took the
place Of the father he had never known
and the mother that he rarely saw he re-
membered his abandonment to mysserl-
GUS female relation, where his natural
guardian seemed to have overlooked and
forgotten him, until he was sent-al all
pas
sage on an overland emigrant train across
the plains. He remembered, as yesterday,
the fears. the hopes, the dreams and dan
gers of that momentous journey; he re-
called his little playmate Susy, and their
strange adventures-the whole incident
that the imaginative Jim Hooker had
translated and rehearsed as his own-rose
wildly before him. He thought of
the cruel end of that pilgrimage
which again left him homeless and
forgotten by even the relative
he was seeking in a strange land. He re-
membered his solitary journey to the
gold mines, taken with a boys trust and a
boys fearlessness, and the strange pro-
tector he had found there, who had news
OF his missing kinsman. He remembered
how his prOtector-whom he had at Csnce
lnstinctively loved-transferred him to
the house of this new-found relation, IS no
treated him kindly and sent HIM to:the
Jesuit school-but who never awakened in
him q feeling of kinship. He went ever
his life at school, his accidental meeting
with Susy at Santa Clara, the keen
revival of his boyish love for his old pay
mate, now pretty school giFl-
the petted adopted child of wealthy
parents. He recalled the terrible
shock that interrupted this boyish episode,
the news of the death of his protector
and the revelation that this hard, silent
and mysterious man was his own father,
whose reckless life and desperate reputa-
ton had impeied him to assume dis
guise. He remembered how his sudden
accession to wealth and independence saad
half frightened him, and had always
left a lurking Sensitiveness that he yas
unfairly favored. by some mere accident,