Arizona republican., 1900-12-09
THE OLD SCOUTS
 LAST FIGHT
CHAPTER 9.
(By. S. NJ. McCowan.)

 The story is one chapter of a novel written by the editor years ago but never published.l
 The issue of rations was over and and James Graham was ready to re- turn home. The scout was ready, too, except that he must have one more drink before he started. This was not his first drink of poison on this fatal day. Glass after glass had been pour ed down the throat that was never dry. His eyes were restless, nerves unsteady and actions cratic. It was remembered afterward how incoherent and objectless his conversation. He would begin sentence, leave it half finished and start off on something en- tirely foreign. He would approach 8 table, around which sat a circle of gamblers, watch them q moment in stoical silence and indifference, and then burst into immoderate laughter.
 He quarreled frequently. Several times guns were drawn on him. Once he abused a miner shamefully, and an- preached to strike, when the miner drew his six-shooter and told him to throw up his hands. The scout, in stead of complying, advanced rapidly and slapped the miners face. Spence was unarmed but fearless.
 They started about eleven o'clock. Spence's little boy sat on the seat be- tween the two men. The air was so cold that, although Lhe sun shone brightly, brilliantly tinting the pure. white snow, it did not melt.
 At noon they passed a ranch owned by Sam Randolph. He stood in the doorway, his genial little wife by his side, and waved them a passive good bye.
 Slowly the horses traveled, the heavy wheels crunching and grinding in dreary monotone that filled the ears and dulled the senses. The shod feet of the animals gathered up great balls that caused frequent slips and stum- bles. Each unfortunate mishap brought down showers of oaths and maledictions and blows on their steam ing backs.
 MT. Graham said nothing. He was oppressed with fearful forebodings that he tried vainly to shake off. He won dered how far from the borders of in sanity the scout was.
 The road led through thick scrub pine and pinon trees-the former still laden with unwholesome blue berries. Hidden in their thick branches were numerous brown-coalted birds, so cold and cheerless they huddled close and fluffed their soft feathers in silent de- fense. Occasionally one moved slight ly and uttered a sad little 'cheep- chaan'' in DlaintfVe DrOteSt
 Now and then a frisky "cotton-tail" leaped from roadside covert, and tore away In affrighted. irregular bounds, like witch discovered at uncanny brewings.
 Occasionally an immense jack-rab- bit would rear on his haunches. tip his asinine ears in wondering surprise for a moment and then spurn the track less snow in prodigious leaps.
 At each of these trifling incidents the little half breed would clap his small hands, blue with cold, and ecstatically call his papa's attention. But the gloomy, morose scout gave no heed, except to vigorously slap the tired horses, and mutter unvoiced curses.
 They were nearing the rim now. There 1t lay, not more than five miles distant, storm- and dreary. Would Black be ready?
 The low-lying pines grew scrubbier and more desolate. Many had died during the last dry season, and nearly all carried bare, gray stocks, protrud- ing from their green circumference like the antlers of moose in hiding.
 Occasionally a lone bull, shaggy and unkernpt, moved from the partial shel- ter of the pines and advanced hesita- tingly, step by step, as though not caring whether he ever fed again.
 Now and then one would stand like brazen sentinel in the road, scarcely moving an eye-lid as the team ap- preached, bemoaning in moody silence the last years arnours.
 The sour face of the old scout lighted up with fiendish delight as they drew near the appointed rendezvous. It would soon be over now, he thought, exuitingly He could soon open the quarrel. What bitter words he had treasured up to utter! How he had searched his vocabulary for choice epithets and cutting invective. He could scarcely control himself.
 And then his grip frightened on the passive reins. and his miserable heart almost ceased to palpitate as the sus- picion pierced his muddy brain that Black might not be there.
 He ground his teeth at the thought with such harsh, grating sound that the little boy shuddered and drew closer to MT. Graham.
 The thought burned like red-hot iron. It tantalized him, and would not down. Again and again it returned to worry and irritate.
 At last he could contain himself no longer. He must speak; curse, quar- rel, fight.
 why can't yo' ten t your own bus mess. yo' drivelling idiot?" he asked, turning on MT. Graham, suddenly and fiercely. You've stuck yer nose in my fairs all yer goin' U, yo' fool. D' yo' hear that?" he fairly yelled in his in- sane excitement.
 MT. Graham remained silent. He foresaw trouble and hesitated for fear of exploding the mine.
 Whats tn matter with yer tongue. yo' coward? Amt afeared, ere yo?" he spoke sneeringly on purpose to ;y,,