Audubon Republican. [volume] (Audubon, Iowa) 1894-1925, 1901-07-25
CHAPTER I-(Continued.)

shovel used as a cane.
Paper for Henley" he puffingly re-
marked as he opened the door of the
shed above the shaft. Paper dressed
to Franklin Henley" and tossing it
In by the side Of the man who was eat
Ing his lunch on a box, he plodded
ahead to return to the trail.
Thank you. Billy" called the other;
much obliged"
He finished a bone, gave his fingers
wipe ON the ragged trousers and slit
on the wrapper Of the "down-e east"
paper.
Sitting In the door, he read the news
OF the far-away home eagerly absorb
ing every line OF sudden he paused:
CLEAN OF something wild came fash
Ing In his eyes and the muscles of his
hands and arms abruptly stiffened.
Married, by the Rev. Richard Wat
son, Feb. 20. Miss Agnes Coles to
Frederick Law" was all that he read.
The type swung dizzy waltz, with
the notice for their center-a thousand
animated demon spots they were,
dancing at his anguish.
He hurled the sheet, in a crunched-
up ball, along in the brush; he grasped
q pick and went where the paper lay
all crisply swelling to open again
and dug and gashed it to dirt-printed
shreds.
$50 that's the reason she hasn't been
writing!" he fiercely Kissed. That's
the game he's worked on the quie.
shift! Undermined me!-tapped the
vein!-robbed the pocket! Damn his
cowardly heart!--damn the mine!-
damn everything" His voice was
choked; he reeled to the shed, he
sank-half fung-to the earthen floor,
to lie where the door, like fabby
Jaw, was vainly trying to close against
his body.
His fingers gouged in the sand like
hooks; his face was pressed to the
chill, hard cheek of the soil. The wind
swept through, the hole of a window
Its vent, beating the door, in weak,
squeaking blows against his back.
The day grew old; drizzling rain
descended; darkness obscured him as
he lay, half within, half without. The
night came down and found him mo-
tionless. The creak, creak, creak of
the door was mingled at midnight with
the distant bowling of lone coyote.
In the morning, when the Indian
girl was come to the cabin, a Wild
eyed man, mumbling and cropping hag.
gard, unkempt. staggered out of the
sage brush to fall over on the floor of
the kitchen.
r There on the boards she fashioned
the couch wherein he tossed and roll
ed, fought and mined for fourteen
nights and days.
Feebly he opened his eyes at length
1t was Susie above him, LAYING his
forehead; Susie preparing the food at
the stove; Susie who sang him the
lullaby Of rest in Washoe music, soft
and persuasive.
wistfully his eyes remained on her
round young face. He lay there help
less. feeling like man of thewless cot
ton. Day by day she coaxed his pulse
to its strong, quick thump of action
Night by night his energy crept In
through his system again. Yet what
was the use.
There came an hour when he tottersd
to his feet, got the gush of spring
from the visiting breeze. and at length
returned to the mine-to dig in the
adamant, to work off the shadows of
hatred and vengeance.
He dug out pocket of gold, nearly
pure, and laughed in scorn at its gilt
tering spread on the salver of dross
and porphyry. It lay where it fell--a
pyramid of riches; and he striking
sparks from his steel and the rock in
the opposite end Of the tunnel.
Susie remained-his shy little doe
adoring the air that haloed him about.
thrilling increasingly to hear aim
speak-lived in her womanly scheme
of an earthly heaven.
The blossoms now presented their
cheeks and lips in manifold petals for
the suns caress; the birds, wide
throated by gushing melodies, express
ed throughout the day the Joys of
twining a nest in the branches. The
Indian girl outspread her very fingers
to feel the current of love and life
that sweetened the air.
At times. as the spring bud bour-
geoned into summer, the girl and Hen
ley roamed on the hills hand-in-hand,
seeking the grass blades that smoothed
the roots Of the sage brush, hunting
out the flowers, hooking the mellow
lark-who sang of endless summer.
Now and again the man was fired by
hot desire to honeycomb the mighty
hills with drifts and shafts and tun-
nels. Yet, how sweet to wander
"home" in the cool of the evening,
stepping to the cheerful notes OF crick-
cts by the trail to meet the day new
born again in the beaming face of
Susie!
CHAPTER II.
Chloride Hill, the mining camp, was
nothing to Henley. nothing to Susie.
But out OF its streets there came one
day tall. stalwart Indian, who stood
aloft in the kitchen door and gazed In
pleasure on the Indian girl.
"Mingo!" she cried in alarm.
Eyes, Mingo," he replied slowly and
clearly, grinning like wolf. "Mingo,
big hunter"
She had backed away and stood there
trembling. what do you want" she
finally gasped. in the musical speech of
the Washoes. "Why do you Gomez"
"Mingo, the hunter. comes for you"
said he "Mingo wants his mahala.
his wife,"