The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1894-09-13

Jake carefully laid his revolver or
the table. Old man Bangs realized
that his visitor meant business. anC
had him at a disadvantage.
Some folks at the Four Corners al
low ez this yere paper of your'n ain't
heightened" said Jake. carelessly
You don't put on frills enough"
Old man Bangs looked longingly al
the table drawer. Guess / could put
more tone into the conversation if 10
my usual seat" he said, Significantly
and went on smoking.
"Mebbe," said Jake, ''mebbe." He
laid the papers he had brought with
him on the table. "Some of the folks
at the Corners was wishful of a little
native talent in this one-horse paper
of your'n. They allowed, mebbe, you
orter take more stock in poetry, an
native produce, such ez straddle bugs.
an chipmunks, an things"
"All the fools at the Corners amt
dead yet" said old man Bangs, say.
agely.
''Mebbe," said Jake. II lowed ez
they was wrong. Yer don't give old
man Bangs d chance, l said to 'em.
He's well meanin' is old man Bangs,
but yer don't give him a chance Now,
if | was to sorter drop in on him per-
misllus like, and ask him to give ma
tive talent a show l seq, why, old
man Bangs would be right thar,
They lowed I'd better try; r,
Old man Bangs, with studied com
posture, stretched out his hand and
took up the papers on the table. He
recognized note in his own spidery
handwriting, which Jake had pinned
on the top
81 kinder told EN-" said Jake,
speaking with slow insistence, Il
kinder told 'em ez I'd only to take old
man Bangs down some native produce
and he'd rear up on end an print it
straight off.
Old man Bangs rose without word,
walked to the composing case and rap
idly began to set up" the verses
which Jake had brought, his fingers
flying with all the precision of ma
chinery. After half an hour hard work
he screwed up the type in a form, $
took a pull, and brought it to Jake.
who laboriously spelt through the
words, still keeping one hand on his
revolver and criticism the spelling
with a sublime disregard for conven-
tional methods.
Twill that do?" growled old man
Bangs, with sullen res eminent at his
emf orced labor.
Jake gazed admiringly at the poem
so rapidly called into being. "Sorter
pretty, amt it? I'll tell the folks at
the Corners you amt no SLOUGH when
you get a chance at native produce, .
he added admiringly.
He tucked the printed paper care
fully away into his vest pocket and
sprang for the door. Old man Bangs
rushed for his revolver in the drawer
of the distant table, and with a dex-
terity acquired by long practice, took
a flying shot at Jake as he disappeared,
then blew out the light, and waited
for reprisals, but none came.
The brown mare scented her master
as he crawled slowly through the
darkness and hauled himself with diff
ticulty into the saddle. Gently, Win
ny, gently" he said. Guess you'd
better crawl sorter keerful; old mans
planted a bullet in my arm, He alters
shoots straight when he's blind drunk -
The mare walked with her burden as
it swayed from side to side. Some
thing warm ran down her flank and
made her start. For three hours she
paced slowly along the narrow path,
hating every now and then when her
rider chung to the saddle and groaned,
! for he was faint from loss of blood.
The wind fell as sud- emily as it had
risen. Through the straight trunks of
the pines the swollen rive glimmered
here and there with faint streaks OF
light. A rift in the sky betokened the
| coming dawn. With careful steps the
mare plodded onward, hating now
and again to look around at her mas
ter, who motioned her on with fee BILE
wave of the hand.
When they reached the clearing
Jake slid out of the sad die and crawled
into the hut, leaving his mare stand
ing at the door. Selling whisky bot
tie, he drank long and eagerly, then
pro pped himself up on his stool by the
boys bunk and frightened his sash.
Its sorter lucky that old coon. missed
the papers," he muttered, and waited.
I'm all right now; my arms stopped
bleedin'."
The boy awoke with glad little cry.
Jake, where are you? Jake, I've had
such dream"
Something white glistened on the
rude blanket.
"Ja-why, sakes alive, Jake, how
did this come here?"
He fell to reading the verses with
delirious enjoyment. A soft, pink
flush came into his cheek
why, Jake, they're printed! Song
to Chipmunk, by our gifted fellow
townsman, the Shelley of Muskrat
swamp
A fit of coughing interrupted him.
Jake, leaning back so that the boy
could not see his face, lied with tran
quill indifference:
"Oh, old man Bangs came up after
you'd dropped off"
Yes, Jake, yes?"
"He printed 'em an brought 'en
over, and planked down a $40 bill.
Here's the money"
The boy gave another cry,