The St. Louis Republic. [volume] (St. Louis, Mo.) 1888-1919, 1901-03-31

WRITTEN q HE SCNpA REPrRTIC.
~ RIMSTONE GULCH awoke to
the splTg after a bard and
So vigorous winter. The camp had
been cut off from the world fol
four Ions. dreary months. Ever
;he stage nDute to Durango had
been showed under most Of the time.
though Mich Whitfr-. TIE driver. had man.
aged to get through on an average of once
a week.
The miners had hudGled,in their cherries
cabins and Gore gathered in Toby Brun-
dage'c saloon. Nusty Nom Dalton's old
cracked fiddle haG scrapeC and groaned for
their entertainment. ana once 4 month
Sandy. Pete had given "a blowout at his
dancchouso.
In that narrow. r1oomytsulch. shut round
by the eterna! ampart OF snow-covered
mountains. they haC. managed TO live-that
was all.
EFF a man has Il hankertn' arter min
ing" said Mus;y Tom, the oracle of the
camp. he'd better so plrnb ter hell and
hey done with ii. Lelstwlse. in hell We kin
hev a soft warm corner in winter. but in a
camp We kin freeze an be damned"
There had been no exc tement in the
gulch since that memorable Christmas Day,
when Montandon. the biggest daredevil on
the range. had found his wife and child
and become ~reconciled to the former, He
had gone back East with his family, but
had faithfully promised the.hoys he would
return in the spring.
"Inn come about Easter" he had said.
Easter When's that" Musty Tom had
growled; that's another name for Decora-
ton Day. amt it,
n.. III Tz,s J,,, sl1- tiinpirr
the cards on the table before him, Easter.
You locoed old imbecile, is when our LORD
rose from the dead"
.Iusty Tom turned and looked'the gambler
over from head to foot, coldly. calculating
ly. contemptuously. Your Lordi' he ejacu-
lated. Huh then spat with surprising ac-
curacy in the depths Of the glowing fire
in Toby's saloon.
Now, as the first faint breath of Spring
stirred the solemn pines in the canyon, as
the ice melted on the mountains and the.
torrents came plunging into the valley, as
here and there i violet peeped through the
snow, the boys began 10 talk about the re-
turn of M~ontandon.
Damned if l don't hug the scamp said
Musty Tom. Thar never was a fellar in this
here camp that / took sech a likin' to. He
was the real thing. Handsome an grand
as a picter, 'fraid of nothin', dead shot, an
Lord. the way he could punish whisky. L
wonder eff he'll bring his family along"
Il hope he'll bring the little Teller" said
Toby, industriously polishing his array oil
glasses. Il never see no nicer. sweeter little
chap in my life. An the way he stood up
thar the night Montandon found him a.
wanderin' in the wilderness an sung that
thar Christmas hymn. why, L never neered
nuthin' like. it. He even made Jess Bowen
cry am
We'll, WELL" interrupted Monte Jim tes-
THY. why shouldn't Jess Bowen cry if she
wanted? Maybe if you were a dancehouse
girl and a slave to such an Internal scoun-
drel as Sandy Pete you'd cry"
Toby came out from behind the counter
and stood with his hands on his hips re-
garding Monte Jim seriously. Thar hain't
nuthin' the matter with We, is thar, Jim?'
he inquired solicitously. "Ye hain't fever
ish nor nuthin', are ye"
mo. snapped Monte jim. There's moth
ing the matter with me, only that / grieve
I am Obliged 10 spend my entire life around
q lot OF blooming CATTLE" and snatchinS his
broad-brimmed. SLOUGH hat from its peg.
the gambler walked moodily 'out of the sa-
loon and up toward the trail leading along
the rock-bound wall of the canyon.
Toby watched the tall figure until it was
lost in the forest. Then. thoughtfu!ly. and
seriosuly calculating. We'll, I'll be
damnedr' returned to washing his bottles.