The Winslow mail., 1899-11-09

one of the serene friendships which last
until death. Let the limit not be placed
even there; perhaps, strengthened and
renewed, they last forever.
During the days the pair worked,
speaking little. In the evenings they
read and talked, or Mills brought out an
ancient fiddle, whereon he discoursed
melody most fearsome, but duly ap-
plauded. The usual theme of CONVEX
sation was Sue. Gradually the two built
up an ideal woman, and home that she
was to adorn after the Millennium
for such they had named the mine
had begun to produce. Rube would not
listen to any plan that did not involve
the membership of Mills in the family.
"P'raps an old feiler like me 'ud be in
the way" Mills would say, and, regular
ly, Rube would rebuke this view.
Yet Sue never wrote. mighty long
trial an slow verdick," Mills opined
once. Rube convinced him that this bor-
dered on treason.
Weeks went by, and the crucial test
of the Millennium was at hand. The
hole for the "shot" which was to de-
termine the character of the vein to-
ward which they had been laboring
had been drilled. the powder tamped
about the fuse. 1t was then, stopping
to wipe his forehead, leaving it CRIME
streaked, that Mills delivered a speech
which, far as recorded, was the long
est he ever made.
''Rube, boy" he said "we're pard-
ners. Understand? Pardners. This
shot tells whether we find somethin
lousy with gold or goes broke ag'in bar
rem rock In any case, thar's wages due
you, a-comin'. 1t wouldn't be no
squar' deal fur me to git rich and you
only to draw pay fer days works; so,
thar'fore, /, John Mills, MINER as here
tofore and ginerally known, do hereby
make over to you, Rube Jackson, full
half-interest in the Millennium, to have
an to hold, an yer heirs an assigns for
ever, amen. That's a kerrect form, l
guess, and no lawyers needed nor pa
pers neither"
Rube grasped the hand of Mills.
"Your words enough for any man, and
l thank you. You've been good friend
to meme and Sue. L"
There, there" interrupted Mills,
''it's nothin', it's all right" He seemed
happy, and a trifie embarrassed, con-
cealing the emotions by a sudden dis
play of energy.
Not another word was spoken. Soon
all was ready, an open lamp applied to
the waiting fuse, and the men retreat
ed to the open.
I'm five minutes, pardner," Mills said,
as they went along, well be couple
of them capitalist chaps"
"And Sue, too," amended Rube.
Eyes, Sue, too," assented the senior
member of the firm. "You see, she's
nachelly one of them heirs an as
signs forever which the document
would mention, so be we had one"
He started for the cabin, but Rube lin
gered. Better come to grub" coun-
seled Mills. ''The old hole won't be fit
ten to live in fur an hour
Rube seemed to assent, but he did
not follow. AS Mills reached the cabin
| there was muffied sound, tremor of
rock as the granite mountain quivered,
and out from the slope rolled cloud
of smoke. Mills was soon in the cabin
getting supper.
In 90 minutes the coffee had been
made, the bacon fried, and biscuits were
crisping in the oven. Still Rube did not
come. II wonder where he is" said
Mills. Boys is so reckless" and with
an uneasy feeling he started back up
the trail.
''Rube, come to support" he called.
His voice bounded from side to side
of the canyon, but there was no re-
sponse. The heart of Mills sank with
the thought of impending evil. Calling
again and again, he went to the mouth
| of the slope, out of which an acrid
vapor loated, lowering in the air. 'I'm
afeardRube went in,'' conjectured Mills,
and hastily removing his coat he
dropped it in a powder-keg of water,
swathed it about his face, and started
blindly down the slope.
| AT the foot of it, held down by a cruel
block, he found Rube, inert. apparent
most hurled the block aside, and talk
| III0S( lIQIIeQ tIIG DI0CK aSIQe, aIIQ TAX
ing Rube in his arms, staggered, STUN
bled, crept to the outer air. Oh! the
blessed balm of that air as it touched
his face. He took one breath, laid his
burden down, and fell beside it, prone,
motionless. The sun was giving the loft
| lest peak its farewell caress. Below q
bird was singing a goodnight song.
The rosy glow passed; the bird was
still; the shadows crept higher. But
there lay the dead and the stricken.
The inquest was short, resulting in
the finding that Reuben Jackson had
come to his death by dispensation of
Providence, ''aided and abetted by his
own carelessness, for the which, he be-
ing boy, we do not blame him."
There was funeral, too, picturesque
and pathetic, where the music was the
harping of the wind in the pine-tops,
and the finest tribute the tears of John
Mills. Then the grave was rounded
over, the participants-all but one
withdrew, and that night the moon
shone down on solitary figure, sitting
by mound. his head bowed in his
hands. Too late, too late,'' the figure
murmured. Were rich, my pardner
and me, and it won't do him no good.
Nor was Mills speaking idly, for,
clutched in the rigid fingers of Rube,
John had discovered fragment of
quartz threaded and bound by wire S
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