The Red Cloud chief., 1897-11-19
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My cbum, John Meredith, was going
home. He was always signing for his
home, and at times this longing pos
sessed him SO completely that he seem
ed on the point of abandoning his pros
poets OF becoming a rich man.
Meredith had been in i'll health, but
ten years residence in the west had
made a new man Of him. Success at
last had come our way, and he sudden
ly announced that he was going home
for his Thanksgiving dinner. He IA
q quiet, queer fellow, any way you put
It; lately, however, he had seemed
wonderfully alert. The arrival of the
weekly mail found him in a state of
great expectation. and after he had
read his letters he would sit quietly
all evening looking very happy and
smiling as he read them over again.
He always was a non-cOmmittal chap,
but this time there was no installing
the signs, SO | suspected his homesick-
ness, and judged his case, as one Is
apt 10 do, by the light OF my own. No
wonder, poor fellow, that he wanted to
wipe out the 1900 miles which alone
stood between him and that Thanks
giving turkey! For my W part. | can
swear that no power as yet known to
man could keep me back from Jim Me-
KenZie's Thanksgiving dinner, for
Mary was to be there-Mary whom all
these years l had remembered and low
ed so well. / had never forgotten her
beautiful deep, dark eyes, which SEEM
ed to search ones soul with that pene-
trating look one sees sometimes in q
baby's eyes.
There was but little out here in the
mountains to relieve the tedium of our
long evenings, so Jim McKenzie's week
ly visits were always heralded with
Joy. We made merry owe his coming.
and our carefully prepared dinner we
regarded as a feast. We talked It over
in the morning, and when evening came
VIC began TO plan for next weeks COM
ing. No wonder Mckenzie was always
welcome. His mind was stored with
the thrilling adventures of early days
In the mountains. We never tired of
listening to the story of his own good
luck: how, way down near the stream
on the side of the mountain, his quick
eye had detected the bits of shining
gold; how, day by day and all alone,
he followed up the little thread of gold
until he had discovered the secret Of the
mountains heart, the generous yield
Of ore which had made him the rich
est man in Golden Point" With touch
ing pathos he would tell us of the brave
hearted men no less worthy than him
self who had come out here 10 meet
only bitter disappointment and blasted
hopes. At rare intervals he would
speak TO us of his " early trials. of
his dead wife, to whose loving care
and gentle sympathy he confidently and
proudly attributed his entire success
and all that vas good in him. Then,
too, he always brought us news OF his
daughter Mary. At first her letters were
only %outD0urings OK her homes!ck, low
ing heart; she was born to I've In the
mountains, n declared she must have
the freedom Of the mountain bird. After
a while her letters breathed a more
contented spirit. In an incredibly short
time the mountain bid had ceased To
lutter against the hars Of her cage.
Her quick and receptive mind soon
yielded TO the guidance OF those about
her, and with the full force CT an ar