The Republican. [volume] (Oakland, Md.) 1877-current, 1898-09-22
Two Sinners of
Pleasant Valley.

BY FRANCIS M. HARDY.


"Colorado-well, I'm iiggered!" And.
his face all smiles, the stranger ran
on: You don't say 50. Ever get so
far north as Caribou"
His look was so wistful should have
CHANGED a lie just to please him, but |
was speaking the truth when l an
swered:
"Hes-lived there two years; ran the
Cardinal mill and mine in the early
seventies"
"Then you are Frank HowardF"
Yes; and you?"
Harrison Snowdon. only got down
Caribou way six years ago; prospect
ing over in the Middle Park before
that. May jcinHou? In just starv-
ing for talk with somebody
l told him to sit down; told him was
glad to see him. And was. 1 am not
given to sudden fancies, but / liked
him. He was a handsome man, that is,
handsome as we class men on the
range; frame built for rough ways and
weather; clear of skin, eyes two bits of
Colorado sky; beard long, soft and
brown. But il was his voice that took
me, for it had that peculiar note COM
mou to men who live alone among the
mountains, men knowing the voice of
Nature better than the voice of man.
Snowdon drew up his chair and
placed his glass of whisky on my table
and a moment later we were deep in
talk of Rocky mountain days, ways and
people. At last, our camp talk having
run to dregs, 1 asked:
What are you doing in London?"
Game over to sell my tunnel"
'Have you sold it?"
"Yes. Tom-that's his name, isn't
it?"
Eyes"
tom, bring us two more OF the
same
When the glasses had been placed on
the table Snowdon said:
Howard, I've got a kit of trouble
heavier than | can manage alone;
you'll help me if you'll let me talk
May II"
go ahead, old boy, and don't forget
you're talking to a man from your old
camp"
That is what l said, for felt for him
somehow. There were lines III this
mans face and a hunted look in his
eyes that | knew were not born in the
Rocky mountains. l wanted to help
him. My heart must have got into my
words, for Snowdon without further
question began his story:
''My tunnel. Howard, was down in
Pleasant Valley-the old Mcdonald
claim. You must remember the
Scotchman?"
"Yes, l remember him; hot old
party"
We'll, l knew every inch of the hill
over that tunnel, and believed | could
open up, by the tunnel. some blind lead
no one had tapped from Caribou hill.
That's why l bought the tunnel when
old Mac died; why, l put all my cash
and five years work into it. More
than once was for chucking it.; and
! would if it hadn't been for the Ames
folks. Ever meet Ames?"
''No; he must be a newcomer"
"Of course" exclaimed Snowdon.
"he came to Caribou after did. Ames
farmed that little ranch in Pleasant
Valley; 10 goou himself; drunk six
Gays out OF seven, gambling the other
DAY. His father was a rich Boston man
who couldn't hold the boy in, so pm
stoned him and put him out OF sight.
| never took any stock in Ames, but his
wife, Clara, and their little child, Jessie
why, in short time they were the
whole valley to me. There is some
thing almighty fetching, Howard,
about free moving, highs pirited
woman; and this Clara Ames, she was
both. Maybe it was the Colorado air.
maybe it was getting away from a
bricked-up city; | don't know Just
what it was; l do know they were both
fully alive, and the sight of such live
ople set my blood tingIing as it
never tingled before.
CLARA and Jessie used to come to
the mouth of my tunnel about noon
every day; this was the time when
came out to eat nay dinner. They both
seemed to rake to me, | don't know
why. Maybe they'd never seen chap
uE queer in get-up and ways. Maybe,
too, it was only my fiddle, for | had
sure enough FIDDLE, and could make
1T sing. Clara, she was always
wanting me to play. And when
Id play she'd curl up on the
sand, and pear to catch every
note; | don't believe one got past her.
When l wasn't playing, she'd nag me
to talk about myself-where I'd lived,
what l thought about this and that;
she couldn't seem to hear too much
about me. 1t seemed strange to me.
and | puzzled over it at first; then |
stopped puzzling, and enjoyed being
alive.
well, SO things logged along, till
October, and the first snow. Then
something happened.
"One night the 'Greaser' Boy rode up
from the raitch with a message from
Clara. Jessie ill-and she wanted me-
1t didn't take me long to get there. or
when | got there to find my way to
Jessie. 1t was bad sight, that first
look got of Jessie's room. Clara was
on the bed holding Jessie's hand;
Az "a was On the floor under the win