The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1901-05-10
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THERE are few of the ''old-timers"
left out west, apparently, and
those few are shy and hard to hunt
down. 1t is a difficult thing to dis
tinguish them in their native haunts,
too. In your search you run across
some picturesque old ruffian or an
other who seems to breathe the very
spirit of the weSt-sometimes it is
not altogether a matter of seeming.
You proceed to cultivate his acquaint-
ance in the hope of hearing lurid
tales of olden days, and presently he
begins to thaw under the influence of
what is locally termed your "hospl-
tally" You carefully and tactfully
lead up to the topic nearest your
heart, so as not to embarrass him
and in order to get his "reminiscences
easily and naturally. Then he in
forms you that he has recently moved
into the territory from the vicinity
of Orange, N. j., and that he consid-
ers the western people "oncivilized."
And when you get the real article
it so often happens that he won't
talk. He is naturally reserved, for
the vast solitudes in which his life
has been passed have set seal of
rarely-broken silence on his lips, and
he lives within himself The friends
and companions of his younger days
have crossed the great divide" or
t'passed in their checks as his asso-
Citations may dictate the expression,
h. g 1oft oil !,
cries.
Yet, if the spirit moves him, you
may get something out of him, but
the conditions must be right. Get
him with another ''old-timer" on a
warm, starlight night, when the hotel
rockers have been moved out on the
sidewalk and some sort of corrosive
fluid is warming their old blood and
loosening their tongues, and you shall
hear the moving incident in camp and
town, with wealth of detail and cir
cumstance, just as long as you care
to listen to them; but it must be
noted that the detail and circum-
stance take up great deal of time.
In the case of Hank Varcom and
'Lish' Baxter, companionship and
whisky seemed rather to have the eff
feet of increasing a natural taciturn-
ity. They were both "old-timers" of
the most pronounced type, and had
been ''pardners" in the golden days
of 40. They spoke of Omaha as ''the
east" and "the east" was to them
generally Gods country" to which,
however, they never manifested any
desire to return, being perhaps rather
unregenerate. Hank was man of
massive build, with a dropping gray
mustache that he had a habit of loop
ing back over his ears in moments of
profound meditation, and mild, gray
eyes, looking out from a beetling
mass of shaggy eyebrows. He knew
everybody worth knowing from Salt
Lake to Yuma and from Frisco to
the Sierra Grande-that is to say,
every cowman of standing, every
bullwhacker, bandit, stage driver,
gambler and Indian. He knew them,
being of them, for he had punched
COWS, freighted, bucked the tiger and
played poker with the starry
empyrean for limit all over the west.
He had had tribal relations with the
Utes, the Pawnees and the Apaches,
and his knees had gripped govern
nent troop horse in hundred des-
perate fights with his connections by
marriage. Now, after life of con-
slant action and adventure, he was
ending his days in a little Spanish
American town with "'Lish"
The career of 'Lish had been very
similar, leaving out the Indian en-
tanglements. He was a much smaller
man than Hank, shrunken so that his
clothes always hung loosely about
him. His face was scanned and
crossed with wrinkles in every direc-
tion and Scared on one side from the
chin to the ear. That scar was ac-
Quired in the dance hall at Ciudad
Roderigo, and the greaser who carved
it was buried the next day, the au-
thorities deciding that Hank, who
was present at the time, was perfect
~ justified. 'Lish's movements were
quicker than those Of Hank when he
did move, and his BLACK eyes had
much of the fire of youth. Altogeth-
er he looked younger than his old
friend, in spite OF his wrinkles.
Day after day, week after week.
month after month and year after
year, Hank and 'Lish sat before the
door of the old ',obe palazzo front
ING the piazza, their chairs tilted
backward against the doorstep, like
two craven images, silent and almost
motionless, smoking and dreaming
the time away. At perfectly regular
intervals they would rise, like autom-