Republican news item. [volume] (Laport, Pa.) 1896-19??, 1902-02-13
THE VERECUNDITY OF LANGFIELD.
BY Helen Ellsworth Wright.


through the interior of Alaska, Lang
field went with them.
He was undeniably plain, under
sized and over-sensitive, and that was
why he felt certain that Dolly could
never love him. To be sure, he had no
intention of loving her, but when six
feet two of we'll developed manhood,
in the person of Tom Perry, came down
from Circle City prospecting, Lang
field found that intentions and love
had very little to do with each other.
Vainly he stood erect, but not one Gu
bit could he add to his stature, and
every morning the square of looking
glass impressed afresh the redness of
his hair upon him.
Tom and Dolly had known each
other in the States, and Langfield
watched with hopeless pain the re-
newal of their friendship. She had
grown shy with him since Perry came
and there could be but one reason, he
argued. He did not blame her; there
was nothing in him to inspire wom-
ans love- and Tom So he packed his
flute and his knapsack and left with
scarcely a farewell.
The men were not fond of Lang
field. He had way of shrinking into
himself, that only Shivers, the camp
mascot, lank mongrel Siwash with
the stump of tail, understood.
Mornings, when the ''Top Sergeant"
gave his first call through the camp,
it was the warm tongue of Shivers that
brought Langfield into touch with the
day, and later, when the company lined
up around the mess tent for their ra-
tions of coffee and beans, the man
would seek secluded stump for ia
Bile, with the dog huddled by his side.
Langfield seldom joined the camp
fires. But when the fever broke out,
Langfield was the first to offer his SER
vices. He was not afraid of contagion
he told the sergeant, and anyway,
there was no one at home who needed
him. After that he and Shivers took
up their quarters in the hospital tent.
The fever had it's run, but only one,
thanks to the nursing, was borne up
the trail and laid away under the snow.
Langfeld planed piece Of spruce
scantling and drove it in by the mound,
but his hand was unsteady, and his
eyes were heavy and dull.
The Top Sergeant on his rounds
the next morning found him sitting
up in has blankets. His face was swol-
len and discolored, and he was talk
ing excitedly to Shivers.
You mustn't let Dolly get the fe-
ver," he said; she's so little. Nor
Tom-promise me you won't let Tom y
He leaned over and looked into the
dogs pleading eyes. Shivers whined
and thrust his muZZle into his mas
ter's palm. She couldn't help loving
him." Langfield continued deIensively.
You know she couiUn't YOURSELF" He
fell back on the pillow and tossed
restlessly for moment It'll be cool
up there under the snow" he began
again, "and l won't be heavy to pack.
And say" He sat up, pulling the dog
close to him, maybe she'll forget
that my hair was-red."
The men were very tender to Lang
field after that, and Shivers seldom
left his bedside.
When, some weeks later, he bec-ne
convalescent, he seemed smaller and
slighter than ever, and his hair shone
more vividly red against the pinched
white face. They carried him out into
the sunshine, but his eyes wandered
regretfully up to the snow.
In a month he was at the post
again, doing the work of two men,
with scarcely the strength of one.
He came down the mountain one
night an hour behind time. The trail
was slushy, and the early gray twi-
light lent a soft indistinctness every
where Suddenly he paused and stood
looking intently at line of fresh
tracks in the path. His first thought
was of Shivers. He always met him,
but seldom SO far from the camp.
Lighting a match, the only one he had
he bent closer. The prints were too
clean-cut for dog; the opposites al
uiost overlapped each other and Shiv-
ers was broad-chested. Cautiously the
man crept on, peering about for an
other mark he knew. 1t was there
slight depression in the mud, like
the fringe OF a feather. Only the edge
Of a shaggy tail made that. He stood
up and looked around him. He was
not afraid of death, but he had de-
cided preference regarding its medium,
and a she-wolf hunting for family
dinner was hardly to his liking.
The camp was three miles away, and
the underbrush made a cross-cut i'm
possible; besides, the snow still lay in
the ravines. There was one thing to
be done, and drawing his hat securely
down, he started forward, then paused
again, with his head raised to listen.
From somewhere there came faint
cry, weak and indistinct, but undenia-
oily human.
Iangfield made a trumpet of his