The herald., 1896-01-28
WITHIN THE FOLD.

graveyard over the hill Fully half of them
had died by violence, and were buried with
scraping of violns and firing OF Win
chesters. Men had been planted with as
little ceremony as potatoes; professional de-
Scendants of Delilah were laid away amid
the blere of brass instruments and break
ing CT champagne bottles.
But" said Buckskin Bill, with grave, un-
conscious profanity, that sort Of a roundup
won't go this time. The Gospel brand has
got to be put on, and who is to do t?''
That was the problem which distracted
Logan through four anxious days. Men had
died as hunted wild beasts die; women had
yielded up their souls as warriors gave way
in battle. But 'this time the fair-haired
idol Of the camp had gone out into the great
silence without a struggle. Saturday after
noon she deigned to ride uptown with Bob
Stedman and exhibit the bisque marvel i'm
ported by her worshpers frcm Chicago,
whereupon the leading citizens united with
Kentucky Smitty in drinking "the health of
the fairest child and the finest doll baby
west Of the Missouri" In the gray dark
ness of Monday morning her soul slipped
over the divide-and the town was desolate.
Slanting Annie closed her dance house in
Difference to the public grief. Wheelers
Hell and Phil Watson's Ladder Of Heaven
Oogan abounded in picturesque nomen-
clature) bore signs "Shut up until after the
funeral" Miners, cow-punchers and ranch
men gathered in groups at the corner, silent,
forlorn and uncontrolled.
Down at Marvin'e the young mother looked
at the floor and rocked mechanically. Mrs.
Marvin was one of the four chaste women of
whom Logan was justly proud. Her morals
were above suspicion. AS Bob Stedman
phrased It:
"She amt no beauty, but she's straight,
you bet. She's a staver. She don't need
no props"
Beyond that she was what COW camps had
made her, a vain and careless woman.
Concerning spiritual things she knew moth
ing. Religion cid not flourish in town
with a brewery, fourteen saloons nine
gambling houses, two dance halls and
neither church nor clergyman. The Sun
day diversions were dancing, faro, poker
and "irrigation" of an alcoholic nature.
AS the mother of the infant divinity Lo-
gan worshiped, Mrs. Marvin headed the
list of desirable partners at the dance.
When She looked into the face of her
little dead child, longing for something
better was born in Mrs. Marvin's soul.
She spoke fiercely to the men who talked
of procession and music at the hall:
"You sha'n't bury my baby like that
you sha'n't! I won't have her buried like
a sheep or gambler. Somebody's got to
pray or do something! She sha'nt be
buried that way!'
'"That's straight" said Tom Gibson.
'The pious is the thing. We must find
SOMEBODY TO 90 tnaC praying.
AS men seek for lost lead, so they
searched, with no result save Buckskin
Bills despairing query Of Monday night
The nearest clergyman was four days
journey across the mountains, and hence
out of the question. Once, in it's begin
ming, Logan Hospitality entertained a par
son for three weeks. He was cordially well
coined, and invited to take up his resid-
ence and "open a Gospel shop" His ex-
periments in faro however, necessitated
a nocturnal exit from the town. This
coupled with the fact that another mans
horse was his means Of transportation
destroyed public confidence in his cloth,
and no preacher had since been permitted
to abide in Logan. 1t was Tom Gibson's
horse he took, and Tom swore at great
length and with much profane particu-
larity of detail that he would "plug him
full of lead ON sight" Now the greatness
of his anxiety engulfed his desire for re-
venge. He said wistfully: eff only Magee
were here, he could"
mo, he couldn't" interrupted Bob Sted-
man. "That miserable scoundrel couldn't
pray over a maverick in this town, let
alone that little He choked and went
to the door. Before his eyes came fair
vision with soft yellow curls, round blue
eyes and a careesing baby voice, saying:
''Fant you for the wide and the dollie. You
may tiss me, Bob!"
No card sharper or horse thief could pray
over Bob's child angel
Tuesday morning dawned. Personal ap-
peal had been made to every man in the
town. Wheeler, popularity known as "Par-
son Jim, because he once was a local
preacher among the Methodists in Ohio, was
urged and pressed to officiate.
"No, boys" he answered, ''most of you
don't know any better, but do. am mean,
but am not mean enough for that vet. 1
have made a He'll for you-and myself.
The fellow who keeps Hell.'' he smiled bit
terly, "was never known to lead in prayer,
and 1 will not begin"
Logan possessed no facilities for embalm-
ing or preserving bodies; funerals were usu-
ally held within twenty-four hours after
death. Tuesday morning was the time fixed
for the baby's burial. An embarrassed dele
cation explained the cause of delay to the
bewildered father and mother. Mrs. Mar
win rose, looked wildly at the self-consti-
tuted committee, and cried shrilly:
Nobody to pray over my baby! Oh, my
God, will nobody pray over my baby? She
was so little and so sweet She never hurt
anybody. Will nobody pray over my baby?"
Swiftly she took the little body from the
bed, wrapped shawl about it, ran through
the door and down the street. To gambler,
cow-puncher and harlot-every one she met
she held out the dead child and said, be-
secchingly:
Pray over my baby; for Gods cake pray
over my baby!'
Blind to fearful appeals, deaf to persua-