The Camden chronicle. (Camden, Tenn.) 1890-current, 1893-11-10
BOTH SIDES SURPRISED.
Emily Elkton's Adventure at
Swanpy Corn ers, Dakota.

The station at Swampy Corners
was never o picturesque spot, even
in the blue glow of the sunniest
June day; but on this chill October
night, with the first snowfakes Of
the season eddying in the slow, un-
decided way the first snowhakes
have through the gray air and the
tall hemloc ks swaying this way and
that way in the raw wind, it looked
especially dreary.
Emily Elkton shuddered as she
stood looking out of one of the panes
of glass clumsily inserted in the
framework by way of window.
mo, Miriam," she said, ''you
can't go"
"But I've got to gol" said Miriam,
sympathetically compressing her
lips as she frightened the straps of
the parcel she was fastening one
notch at time.
"And leave me here alone?"
Nobody won't hurt you, /
reckon" said Miriam, a stronghold
tured woman of forty, with brist-
ling upper lip like mans.
"If you go" said Emily, 'Tll go,
too"
mot much," composedly spoke
Miriam; thar amt room in Pete
Muller's blackboard for so much as a
sheet O. paper arter me and hims
in. Besides, what'll your Uncle Alb
SALON. say when he comes back and
finds nobody here? Eff the fire goes
out everything'd freeze stiff, and
Yes, Pete, I'm a-comin' Good-by,
Emilym
ooh, / forgot, coming back and
mechanically lowering her voice, al
though there was no one but the
gray cat by the stove to hear the
words. "The ticket money and two.
rolls O golden eagles as the pay,
masters call to-morrer in the noon
train is in the red chest under your
uncle's bed. 1 reckoned it 'ud be.
safer thar than in the money,
drawer. Don't forget to give it toI
him fust thing when he gets back. -
"Forgetl' echoed Emily, wiring
ing her hands in frantic desperation.
'But I won't be left in charge of It'll!
I'll assume no such responsibility.
I insist upon your taking it with
you"
The remonstrance, however, came
too late. Miriam bawled out some
indistinet reply and the next sound
Miss Elkton heard was the creaking
of the blackboard wagon as it turned
the sharp curve below the cleaning
line Of railway switches.
"She's gone, cried Emily, clasp
ing her hands like the tragic muse,
Sand left me alone with all that mon
ey! And the camp only three miles
up the mountains full of Italians and
Chinese, and the mines and the whole
neighborhood infested with despera-
does And Uncle Absalom not ex-
expected home until two o'clock in
the morning, and the bolt broken of
the door, and the keys a misft, and
nothing but hook and staple be-
tween me and destruction.
ooh, why didn't I stay in Rhode
Island? What evil spirit possessed
me to come out here in Dakota,
whore one might as well be buried
alive and done with it?"
Emily had come out west, partly
because there seemed nothing to dc
at home and partly because Uncle
Absalom had written that one of his
nine nieces could come very handy
for a housekeeper at Swampy Cor
ners, in the state of Dakota, if she
could be spared.
And more especially she had come
because she had incidentally learned
that Andrew Markham was one o.
the engineers in charge of the new
line Of railway on the other slope Of
the mountain, which undertaking in
volved the camp and the great der
ricks and steam drills and the gangs
of slit-eyed Chinese and dark-browet
Italians.
"Not that that signifies, Emily
had plausibly told herself; but O
course, it's pleasant to be somewhere
within hundred miles of an old ac
guaintance."
Andrew Markham had been to SCI
her twice, and both times she haC
} made up her mind that the far west
was the only place to live in.