The Mena weekly star., 1897-10-06
An Admiral of AirShipS.
 BY ELWYN |. HOFFMAN.
CLARK, of the Oregon house, is tell
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HLARK, of the Oregon house, is tell
 | ing this story. Clark, with his pipe in his mouth and q rcisiii iiseen. cxprcs- sion in his gray eyes. He is lying under the rough shed of the old blacksmith shop, which, like a big bat, clings to the mountain side just where the great North Ynba makes sharp bend and roars down the canyon towards Clim- minis point. Before him, at his feet,
 there are few yards of almost level ground--a sort of platform, in fact dug out of the steep mountain side, on which stands the shop. From the outer edge of this platform it is a sheer drop of Il hundred feet to the bed of the river below; and above it the mountain rises so steeply and so woodedly that one cannot see it's top. From one side of the platform a narrow, twisting trail leads down to the river; and from the other side rutty wagon road winds up at very steep grade and disappears from view among the gray nut pines and the green poison-oak bushes that cover the hills. It was down this nar- row. road that Clark and his outfit came. Two wagons and four horses, to say nothing of dog md rough-looking boy, comprise Clark's outfit" and Clark is a peddler who runs fruit and vegetable wagons between Marysville aud Brown : valley.
 A mile or so down the river, at Clim- min's point, there are Indians at work in the grsYel, and once a week Clark comes down here to sell them fruit. On the little platform in front of the old shop he camps. and the Indians. in parties of two, three, and half dozens, come up the twisting trail from the river and diclxer with him for all sorts of fruit. They are not stingy, these Indians--what to them are the little particles of bright stuff they wash from the river bed, when they are hungry for watermelons and such things. and Clark shows them how much he will give them in exchange? And Clark weighs the dust in the little scales "that never lie." and they % back to their rude windhreak. or rough shanty, minus their weeks ear nings, but enriched by boxes of plums and other fruits.
 Once in awhile Clark camps over night at this old shop, and whenever he does all the Indians near there. some two or three dozen. come up and camp with him. Wild times they have then. for Clark always brings big jug of bad whisky when he comes. and some how the Indians get hold of it. Clark himself has not told me this-Clarlx nyers that the stuff that transforms "Scar-Faced Dick" from a peaeeable citizen to the Terror of the Hills is brought to the Tuba in bottles and drawn from a barrel which reposes be- hind the bar of saloon in French Cor ral, five or six miles away. But how ever this may be, whisky the Indians get; and the more whisky they get. the more trade Clark enjoys. Guileless Clark!
 Clark has made his sales, and his wagon is almost empty. The boy and the dog and one team have gone up the valley, and Clark is only waiting to smoke bit before he also pulls out. 1 And so, while he rests, lying on the soft. smooth pine needles that have sifted in under the shed. iiis pipe II. | his mouth and his long legs out