The Banner-Democrat. [volume] (Lake Providence, East Carroll Parish, La.) 1892-current, 1896-07-18

rue, too. worse than plZen-pinst its
cheek! Not that wasted my business |
hours hating, for just kept my head
shut unless could give chance mark |
in the eye to the Gallaghcr's Daddy.
Well, one night, who should come into
my office but n young woman. Pretty
as picture she was, all wet and SILVER
ing, but her mouth was-gummy. Cryf
Cried fit to break her little heart. Mr..
Sniff, she said, was beast-a horrid
little beast; yes, that's what she said.
Sniff had sent for her all the way from
England, as his clerk and typewriter;
then, when she showed up at the mine,
coolly informed her that he had since
written countermanding the order.
Wouldn't take her out of the rain! Mad?
I'd have killed the thing, but that, being
midsummer, game was plumb out OF
season.
Pretty? A perfect little witch OF "
woman-black hair, black eyes that
snapped, and thin, oval, winsome sort
of a face that bowled me right out. She
had the cunnipgest, cutest little ways
you ever seen, and real lady, every
inch. l took her right on my books as
secretary, walked her over to the land
lady at our boarding-shark, and had
cabin fixed up regardless! Oh, but she
was a ripping clerk-smart as stock
broker, always busy, eager to learn,
sharp as a steel trap with the books.
She'd take down my letters in short
hand, whisk them off On the typewriter,
keep the letter-book indexed up to the
minute, run the postage stamps. Why,
got so used to her in a week that barely
took the trouble to sign what she wrote,
much less see If it was correct. Fact is,
gave over my heart, the keys OF the
safe and the books. She ran me, she ran
the office, and, if she liked, she was free
to run the mine. How she did hate the
Thing-that horrid, nasty Sniff!
Bit by bit she put me up to the
scheme; little by little she led me OIL
| just burning to get quits with the
Thing, if only for her sake. AT least,
she showed me how / could fairly
knock the stuffing out of the Gallagher's
Daddy.
| You see, he'd struck it rich--lit onto
a bonanza that was the talk of Colorado.
| The Silver Chamber, they called it,-a
mass of sulphurets and ruby silver, big
as church, running $4,000 ton. 1t was
right at my end of the ledge. within
few feet of the end of my third level
drift, which had been rich to the very
edge of my claim.
'Grab into it, said the sly little puss
"Trouble? Never fear. If you've got
the pluck" says she, I'll supply the
brains. Now" says she, "I'll go around
and begin by squaring Shifts engineer
get around him in jiffy-and wei
take such rise out of old Sniff
that he'll think he's sat down on dyna
mite
We bribed Shifts engineer, who dis
abled his hosting gear in such a way
the mine had to be closed while he sent
down to Denver for skilled hands.
At that little cats instigation, tool
some carpenters by night to the Daddy's
shaft. Lowering men with ropes, W.
got three solid brackets fixed to the
timbering-say 40 feet down. Then we
lowered down tank of well-tarret
lumber, which fitted nearly in the brack
cts, and filed up the shaft. Finally, We
put in three feet of water, and stole
away. Next morning the Thing came
sauntering down to the works and wheI
he looked down the shaft, there wal
the blacklist water within few feet o.
the top.
s'Bai Joave! what a beastly shame!'
1t walled. me mines all full of water
Come, you men-you beastly engines
fellah-wig up the pumps!'
But the "beastly engineer fellah'
couldn't wig up the pump" because tn
said pump was busted.
Work? How we worked! Doubl
shifts, double time, Sundays, holidays
J hosting out the bonanza sulphurets O
, the Gallagher's Daddy. The silve
chamber-why, the names pigwash t
the reality. / never, in all my mining
experience, saw such haul. Thin
that Sniff petted? Think he found out
and had deputy sheriffs around m
ears? Not bit of it. The critter wen
off fishing; yes, fishing, and was tn
laughing stock of Colorado, while
hustled.
Ye gods! was the blindest ass eve
born! Never found it out till I'd worke
the silver chamber down to the last ton
never till the last ounce was consigne
to the smelling company down at Der
yer. | was down there for my holida.
: when met the manager of the Gres
Dinde smelling syndicate, and
greeted me with regular horse laugl
"Well, Mr.. Philanthropist," says h
\ show goes it?"
"Philanthropists!' What do yo
mean?"
"Why, amt you been working doub
shifts for the last three months and CO.
signing every blessed dollar of your bu
3 lion to the credit of the Gallagher
!. Daddy?"
u you're mad!" says l.
"Well, I've been thinking it was "
who'd gone locoed-unless you've NOR
&c gagged body and soul to Mr.. Sniff"
A light broke in on me. Lets s
= the books" howled, land my letters
~ Yes, it was the cold, paralyzed trut
:. I'd been victimized - horribly Vi
timized, by that little she-cat. While
5. signed letters without glancing at thel
" she'd written strict orders, from m
= that all bullion was to be credited
. Sniff of the Gallagher's Daddy.
n -