The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1898-10-07

ner apologetic; 1 thawed instantly,
and replied:
"Yes." ..eEySE11
"What part?" .';:.:::'%$$s-.-<.
"Colorado."
"Colorado-well, I'm jiggered!" And,
his face all smiles, the stranger ran
on: "You don't say SO. Ever get so
far north as Caribou"
His look was so wistful 1 should have
chanced a lie just to please him, but l
was speaking the truth when I an
swered:
"Yes-Iived there two years; ran the
Cardinal mill and mine in the early
seventies"
''Then you are Frank HowardT
Eyes; and your
Harrison Snowdon. only got down
Caribou why six years ago; prospect
ing over in the Middle Park before
that. May join you? I'm just starv-
ing for talk with somebody"
told him to sit down; told him was
glad to see him. And was. am not
given to sudden fancies, but l liked
him. He was handsome man, that's
handsome as we class men on the
range; frame built for rough ways and
weather; clear of skin, eyes twobits of
Colorado sky; beard long, soft and
brown. But 1t 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 London2"
My question wiped the smile from
Snowdon's face, revealing lines had
failed to notice before, and there was
a nervous break in his voice when he
answered.:
Game over TO sell my tunnel"
Have you sold it?"
Eyes. 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 kit Of trouble
heavier than I 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 n man from your old
camp"
That is what said, for felt for him
somehow. There were lines in this
mans face and hunted look In his
eyes that knew were not born in the
Rocky mountains. I 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, I remember himi hot old
party"
''Well, I 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 bought the tunnel when
old Mac died; why, put all my cash
and five years work into 1t. More
than once l was for chucking it; and
I would if 1t hadn't been tor the Ames
folks. Ever meet Ames?"
"No; he must be a newcomer"
"Of course" exclaimed Snowdon,
''he came TO Caribou after l did. Ames
farmed that little ranch In Pleasant
Valley; no good himself; drunk six
days out of seven, gambling the other
day. His father was rich Boston man
who couldn't hold the boy In. SO pen
stoned him and put him out OF sight.
l 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 q free moving, high-spirited
woman; and this Clara Ames, she was
both. Maybe it was the Colorado air,
maybe it was getting away from o
bricked-up city; ] don't know just
what it was; do know they were both
awfully alive. and the sight Of such live
people set my blood tingling 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 l
came out to eat my dinner. They both
seemed to take to me- I'don't know
why. Maybe they'd never seen o chap
as queer in get-up and ways. Maybe,
too, it wns only my fiddle. for had q
sure enough fiddle, and could make
it sing. Clara, she was always
wanting me to play. And when
I'd 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 l puzzled over 1t at first; then /
stopped puzzling, and enjoyed being
alive.
"Well, SO things logged along. till
October, and the first snow. Then
something happened.
zone night the 'Greaser' Boy rode up
from the ranch with a message from
Clara. Jessie ill-and she wanted me-
1t didn't take me long to get there, OF
when got there to find my way to
Jessie. 1t was bad sight. that first
look got of Jessie's room. Clara was
IN fha had hnldir,cr Inrrioln hnl.