Bellows Falls times. [volume] (Bellows Falls, Vt.) 1856-1965, 1893-02-02

slip up behind me unawares whenever
moved on. lowed Id camp down here
and wait for it to come to me. I've toiled
steady from morning to night, every day
l could lift my hand, sometimes at the
old placers, more often prospecting the
lodges in the mountains above. I've
made some promising 'fiuds,' and pan
out a little dust all the while, but often
times l haven't enough to pay for having
my drills pointed and l have to quit
work and take my gun and go over the
range for venison or bear meat. But II
can't last forever. Last week l found
some rich float in the creek bed. I'm
on the track of that ledge now"
Sand have you never written homer
"What could l write? l don't dare
think about them. Some day I'll strike
it rich and then I'll go back"
The census marshal could make no
comment. In her heart she was i'm
pressed by the singleness of mind with
which the old miner had persevered in
his hunt after precious metal, and his
faith that he was bound to "strike it
rich' some day struck her as almost
pathetic. He seemed wholly oblivious
of the fact that there we're other ways of
obtaining gold that did not call for pick
or sluice. During all his lonely years OF
toll it did not appear to have occurred to
him that the same energy, expended III
any legitimate wage earning industry.
might easily have carried him to his goal
and enabled him to make home and
send for the wife and child to whom he
had been so loyal in purpose, but had so
miserably failed in deed.
| snow you know why don't want my
name to go down in your book. You
know why Eve never exchanged need
less word with man or woman till you
came up the trail to-day. I've lived ST.
long al me with the rocks and trees AND
the bare facts of nature that I've almost
| forgotten the ways of civilized speech.
| but think I've made you understand
Do you want my name"
The girl hesitated in indecision and
doubt.
"You don't know? No more do 1. Do
you see that face in the rocks across the
gulch?'
He led her to an opening on the hill
side and pointed across the chasm down
whose bed the mountain stream leaped.
In the jagged outlines of a great cliff
that overhung the gulch the girl easily
discerned massive, sphinx-like profile.
when you live alone in he noun
tains," said Grizzly Jim, "You get to
depending on signs and omens. You
can't help it. When the sun touches
that cliff, a little past noon, some day
the face smiles, sometimes it frowns.
Wen watch it to-day. If the face smiles
I'll write in your book"
The mist had long since flown back to
the sea and the sun rode high in the
heavens. Only this portion of the gulcf
remained in the shadow, shut off by the
crags that rose above it. Slowly the
sunlight crept past the rocky barriers
A flood of sunlight bathed the dark
niche. The ripple of the water below
sounded like chime of bells; burst OF
bird song thrilled the air. A wave of
light passed over the sculptured face and
benign smile fingered there for mo-
ment; then the features relapsed into
their customary calm.
Grizzly Jim reached out trembling
hand for the book and pencil.
The census marshal slipped over to her
horse and examined her saddle girths.
for her business there was finished and
the steep trail was slippery of descend.
The miner wrote slowly and awkwardly.
closely scrutinlziDg the fine print at the
head of each column before he made the
entry beneath. When he had finished
he returned the book and pencil to the
marshal with grave courtesy. She could
not resist feeling of absurd solemnity
as she received it. She had meant to
show a proper delicacy by closing it
without looking into it, but her woman's
| curiosity overmastered her and she took
one quick glance at the name, which was
boldly and plainly written.
Her face crimsoned.
st is not true," she said, Indignantly
To w
crossing the plains in 40. Miriam Pey-
ton is my mother"
The effect of this intelligence was like
| stupendous blow. The old man pressed
his hands to his temples, while he made
| an effort to span the cruel gap of years.
"Miriam-my little Miriam's child!"
His smoldering eyes devoured her with
| the hunger of starving soul.
| Her cold unbelief was beyond his
power to combat. That which had been
| his strength became his weakness. The
secret so closely guarded for nearly half
century unnamed him when it was
laid bare. He sat down at the foot of
the oak, burying his face in his hands.
Impeled to an instant faith in his
truth the girl knelt humbly beside him
A gentle hand stroked his gray hair; a
fresh young face was pressed against his
wrinkled cheek.
"They are both here, only a few miles
away. Come with me. Come home to-
dav.''
He didn't answer for many minutes
Then he said slowly:
IAN old, weather-beaten wreck, rag
ged, penniless. can't do it. I'd better
live on here. You'll keep it from them.
| can trust you"
But even as he protested the longing in
his face, the anxiety with which he
awaited her reply, were painful to see.
eve are all poor, but we will join
hands and work and make our way"
said the girl bravely. "And listen! She
my grandmother-is no longer young
and pretty. She is feeble, faded, lonely
little old woman. She has mourned you
all these years. 1t would be like open
ing the gates of Paradise for her."
In the edge of the valley that broad
ened out b. low the mouth of the gulch,
where a prospt rous mountain village had
been built upon the ruins of the old min
ing camp, there stood a shabby cottage,
lowered in honey uckle and roses. The
tiny almond orchard at the rear was in
h1napo upJ tho nipE lie Auttorad dnup