St. Landry democrat., 1894-02-17

"Glad you've come, doctor. Bi!l's
mighty 1vtv in his talk to-day. Pears
something seems to be bothering him in
his mind. From his talk, Judged his
| life has been streaky -ikc-full O black
and white, like the wood agate i'll the
| Mogalons | took my boots and spus
of, " Tom continued, looking APOLOGIZE
calv at his bare feet "Biil mistook the
spur nglc for the cow~belI on the range,
cause he waited HE to saddle Monte :;
said the storm was on in the divide, and
the cattle was a,driftirg
'It's tie fever; delirium accompanies
it, said the ductor, as they entered the
shack.
Meron Was lying On II rough couch Of
quilts thrown over few blankets anu
hides, SUPPORTED by cot OF LoArds.
The room vas hideou>ly hot, the roof
being too hin, and the furnace. breath
from the desert wandered through the
half matched walls Of oc,!t,us
The surgeon walked to the door end
looked weurlly across the brown Wa t.
"MorrisY should be here to night, he
muttered.
He was thinking OF ice. Merun's
pulse was an octave too high. The fever
was rising. Already he was tossing on
the uncharted tides of delirium, that
mysterious sea where the landmarks Of
| life appear for moment, and then sink
and are forgotten. He no longer heard
the tinkle of the cattle bell in the pines
up the canyon; the storm day had passed
on the dry divide where his partner had
been caught in clowdburst and swept
away. He was back in the pleasant
East now, unacquainted with the desert,
and the time was early summer. lie
spoke of a woman in his rawlings now ;
but of her cannot say. The story be
longs to Tom and the surgeon, and they
never told it.
But this do know, that after the de-
lirium the surgeon went ofttner to Rancho
Bonita, and that Tom drank heavily of
ranch coffee and watched day and night
at the bedside of Meron, sleeping only
during the surgeons visits.
DAYS passed on-superheatrd change-
less days, where your chronology col
lapsed and faculties tainted.
But they won the fever battle in the
face of the desert The doctor said it
was nursing, while Tom thought it was
the occult knowledge of doctor who
could wear a captains uniform.
One evening, when Meron was con.
valcscent, he rode over with Tom to the
garrison They met the surgeon at the
traders.
"Doctor,' said NIeron, "Tom tells me
you are ordered East
Yes; | start for Boston tomorrow,
and l wish | could take you with he,
Meron; it would do you good -
II never 90 East" said Meron, sim
ply, looking at the surgeon with that far,
steady gaze which sees nothing.
The surgeon caught the glance, and
added: "You will have Tom with YOU
now, suppose:'
II want him to stay, but he is going
on the fall rounlup at Pantano," " aud
then Meron continued, awkwardly, as if
uncertain how to say: The beef cattle
were not sold when | was taken i'll, but
I've arranged with Williams for the In
dian contractor to take them on the
range. l want to 50 aare up with you
and Tom, since you are both going
away"
ooh, l forgot to tell You that there
was no bill. I'm glad enough TO have
the practice The expression on Meron's
face told him he had made a mistake,
and he added, quickly: There was the
ice and few little medicines from the
government You may pay me for
those, if convenient" naming a tri1ing
sum, which Meron handed him.
''Most OF your bill is due Tom, any
way the surgeon said, as he pocketed
the money. His nursing pulled you
through"
Tom would take nothing, which was
wrong, for he needed money badly, and
by his refusal he hurt Meron's feelings.
l think Toms action was half that OBJ
stinate perversity-that irrational self
sacrifice found frequently among savages
and children. But it might have been
principle bis not accepting money for
doing for Meron what he would certainly
have done for even Greaser peon.
He ended by borrowing five dollars
from Meron, bought bottle of bad
whisky from the trader, and, after treat
ing all round, started for Pantano. Then
Meron bade the surgeon good bye and
rode home alone.
$50 you are just come from Arizona,
doctor@ aaked Mrs. Drew, at Beacon
street dinner. i've so wished to visit
that prehistoric land, ever since Mrs.
Hemingway told me of her work there in
anthropology and showed me the resl Its
of her excavations among the clitf-dwe.l-
ers. l really believe l should 60 there
were it not for the dreadful outlaws who
make life 90 unsafe I've often won.
dered how the poor Indians manage to
live in such place. Why, only to-day
I read a most shocking account of a
drunken cowboy named 'Riata Tom,
who tried to rob and murder all the peo,
pie in town called Pantano, and was
himself finally shot. Don't you think
the Indians themselves need better pro-
lection from these outlaws?'
The doctor did; and Mrs. Drew took
a second breath and chatted on.
The doctor did not hear her He was
gazing at the cut-gIass and the flowers
but his mind was far away in that weary
land where lives are ''streaky" like the
wood-agate of the Mogallons, with the
black so black and the white so white;
and he wondered if it was civilization
that made lives gray.
Ire should have told Mrs. Drew
''Riata Toms" story, but he did not. -
Argonaut.
What Aa