The Beaver herald. [volume] (Beaver, O.T. [Okla.]) 1895-1923, 1902-02-13
The Gold.Miner's Story.
AMT n sentimental sorter coon

AMT n sentimental sorter coon,
by no manner q means, and what's
more. I never purtended as I were.
A incident that l knows Of, though,
for downright sentimcntality beats
anything I ever heerd tell of. Even
now, though IL happened long time
ago--somewherc back about the fall
of '5i-I can't recollect II without n
chokin' lump rises inter me gullet and
me eyes become sortcr moist. It's n
yarn of what n feller done cos he
thought II was his dooty and cos he
loved gal.
Yes, tell yer, there's dramas en-
acted In sich lives us ourn which. II
they was performed on the stage.
those pale-faced clever noospaper
knowalls. or crickets, or whatever
they calls 'cmsclves. would say IL was
unnatural, and could never have hap
pened In rale life. But they'd be mis-
took for all that, cos this here yarn
In gospel.
'I1l tell yer 'xactly how IL come
about. II was at Davidson's Creek
as wild and brown md lonesome To-
cality as ever mortal man clapped
eyes on-all level and sandy and mo-
notnous.
They was q wild, harum-scarum lot
Of boys collected there. too. | gives
yer my word. OF course. when gold
In located at n place. yer wouldn't ex-
pect very high-class scrciety; and Da-
Wilson's Creek were no exception.
unless Il were worse than most IL
anythink. Nigh every soul there was
wrong 'un.
Wal, Tim Bennett, though--yer
could hardly call him wrong 'un.
He was n short. insignificant, little
shrimp of n feller, with n chivvy yer
couldn't help hkin', and the most in
formally bad luck as ever dogged n
miner. He had a smile and kind
word fer everyone, and l honestly
b'lievc he would have given his last
luck. We mostly called him the par.
son." not that he was extry religious,
hut cos he was so much better'n the
rest of us, and had never been known
10 cuss for more'n half n minute at
q time.
The fellers at first used ter take
vantage Of him, but II wer'n't long
fore he showed MS he could use his
fists or his shooter ms well us the
hest OF us.
Then there were Nelly Bell-ol'
Hanky Bells dnrtcr. She were good
one. and no mistake. She were nj.
ways mending or patching fer some.
one. or making fine appetizin' stew
out Of some Of our tough "tnck" fer
some feller that was took sick. We
used ter fairly worship her, but shed
have nothing ter do with us. She
was dead gone on the "parson," and
the on'y one that didn't know II was
the ''parson" hisself.
Wal, to be gettin' along. One day
Denis O'Brien were a-comin' back "a
camp after q bit Of sauntcr round
when Nelly comes runnin' up ter him
her eyes all red and swollen witt
cryin'.
"Denis," she sobbed. Eyer are q
well-plucked 'un, and I wants yer I,
help me. WIN ycr?"
or comes Denis's hat In an instant
"Want me hellup, do We, Nelly
Shure. II ye on'y say. or with yel
head. Denis bedad Oi'll do Il jis7 I,
show ye that Oi name bis'ness. Ant
what have ye been cryin' yer purt,
eyes out for, and what are We aftheI
wantin' me 10 do?"
"Oh, Denis, it's awful. They've beeI
and got the 'parson' at SHADES saloon
and they're jest a-goin' ter string hin
up. Yer know Dan Hack. II pear
he keeps all his money In two blacl
boxes, marked ID. Il. One OF then
boxes has been found empty under
heap OF clothes In the parsons tent
and they're sayin' he's done II. Bu
u ain't him. Denis. III stake all rv
got Il amt him. has my suspicion
ms ter who II is; In fac I'm prett.
surs; hut, yer see, ! can't prove II
Yer will help me, Denis, won't yer, o.
pard?"
"I,ut what dye ixpict me to dc
Eeliy2"
"Do? I've been up ter the saioo
aud tried ter git him on. but II ain
no 60. They says the suspicious
too mich agen him-they wan
proofs. and unless they're brought tn
Law must take it's course. And Gu
bring proofs. Yes. Denis, will brin
proofs. So what ] wnnt yer tn d
Ia ter stop 'em fer half an hour. u
that time TN bring my proofs, and
cnnt--then Heaven help poor Tim!
'NcIIy, tell me. Why do ye TAX
all this interist In the 'parson'?"
There was no answer.
"lt's bekase ye love him."
"DenIs, ye're right--it is," say
Nelly.
The Irishman weren't no saint, an
vhan he heard this hIa soul was flle
H I'M teslousy. A hitter fight too
q <lneo Hwoen his honor and love. IN
<1on4 nmG 'fore love KEN on
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