The Houma courier. (Houma, La.) 1878-1939, 1897-12-11


loaded so heavy, that you can't go more
than a few yards at a time; and it's the
~everlastin' stoppin' and startin' that
wears a man plum out.
every time you start the horses
and mules have to scratch gravel to git
the wagons moyin' and the dust comes
up pretty thick and nigh smothers you.
Why, I've seen teamsters on the road
that didn't look any more like human
bein's than as il they was made alto
gether of yaller dirt. Even their eyes
seemed to have a coat Of dust on EN-;
and as for their throats-well, these
here teamsters generally try to keep
up some sort Of communication with
their internal arrangements by means
Of a bottle.
1T might have been this permiscus
whisky drinkin' that knocked old Potts
of his nut instead Of the hard team
%sterin', but 1 can't say. But, anyway,
Potts went sort o. daft, and finally left
the road and TUX up with the Injuns.
Before be went crazy, and before he
left teamin', Potts was the genialest
kind of a Teller. Everybody liked him.
He wasn't educated much, but he was
good-natured and jolly and always had
a good word for folks, an he liked chill
dren.
CLARK OF the Oregon house, pausedin
his talk and pulled away in silence for q
few Minutes.
The man at the plum box, having sat
istied himself, wiped his mouth on his
sleeve csWhen in Rome, ETC., , and now
sat gazing up the river. 1t was not an
uninteresting view. From a narrow
gorge in the high brown hills, the river
suddenly appeared, a stream of dull
yellow that threw itself tem-pestuously
from the big, water-worn rocks, and
then with a smooth, graceful curve,
flowed downward toward the point on
which the blaeksmith's shop stood.
Here, as it turned to take another direc-
ton, it fretted, and fumed, and growled,
and muttered once more, until finding
a straight course again, it j%ourneyed
peacefully to Climmin's point, where it
made another angry turn.
AS looks up the river one notices
. red cut that.leads, with the natural
wind Of the hills from the river bed to
points far up on the mountains, on
either side of the river. That is the ROAD
shat goes from Browns valley to French
Corral, and where it crosses the Yuba
Is known as Rice's crossing. 1t is sim
ply a ford, and in certain seasons an
impossible one.
AS the man at the plum box looked up
Che canyon he could see the Chinese
miners at work just below the cable.
The sun was bright, and now and then
their wet shovels, as they turned them
in air, flashed like disks Of silver. The
yellow Yuba roared and Numbered in
its uneven course where they were
working. and the canyon was full of the
Fibrant sound of its ceaseless conflict
with the huge powders hat lined its
way; and yet, now and then, as the wind
blew down the river, the sharp, nasal
tones Of the ChinHmen's voices could be
distinctly heard. The man at the plum
box got to ~maryeling at the clearness
with which things could be distin-
thunder OF the great river that swept
along below him, and all but forgot
/ Potts entirely. Even Clark seemed tc
find something foreign to think of, and
smoked and gazed in silence.
A mountain quail, across the canyon
whistled melodiously, and it's soft, but
: impellant notes, seemed almost to echo
just below the shop, about a quarter o.
a mile down the river, two sons of tht
Flowery Kingdom were running 8
| rocker, and he could distinguish the
; harsh kaash! kaash! kaash. kaashl Of
/, the gravel as it grated back and forth
on the iron riddle" and could hear tho
: stones rattle as they were thrown out
: evenfanciedhe dheart the swee-et
Of the water as it was poured upon tn,
gravel from the old oyster can thai
, served the Chinaman as a dipper-but
5 of course he was mistaken in that.
r AS he was listening to these noises, /,
S sound came to his ears from farther
down the river. 1t was a long cry, /;
, quavering, fainting call that peat bacl
! and forth from point to point, anc
finally passed him by, seemingly like
: broken-winged spirit flying painful,
up the great canyon to die away in thu
| dull thunder of the sweeping waters.
2 Clark moved as about to rise. ant
took his pipe from his mouth. Boil
! listened.
The river Numbered, the quail acros
the canyon whistled. the Chinamel
I clinked their picks and talked nasal,
far up the gorge. But the cry they hat
heard was not repeated, and Clark final
" stretched himself out again and re
! turned to- his leisured smoking an6
, talking. His only comment was: g
! guess them Injuns must be drunk"
|, He blew the smoke from his thin LID,
/ and sprayed it out through his sandy
dropping mustache. Then he contin
+ ued:
I "Mabbe Scar-Faced Dick has been Il
town, or old Potts hasseen a fresh batcI
of his airships. BY the way, / was tell
! in yon about Potts, wasn't L?
! well, after Potts began to re
? looney, he got to avoidin' meetin' peopl
and tallSin' to 'em, and finally he am
s across the river here and married an,
cut all his tribal relations with whit,
folks. He got hold of some land an,
! made himself a ranch (it's just up tn
\ hill here about two miles,, and raise,
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