Tazewell Republican. [volume] (Tazewell, Va.) 1892-1919, 1902-03-06

them aDSently. lie nau dim ulsorderel
memories Of his childhood, mixed u
with babbling brooks. He thought o
"iackstones" and tried to catch sew
eral of the pebbles on the back Of hi
sore withered hand. Then in the gar
ing sun he fell straight backward an
hurt his head. 1t seemed to him tina
he rose Immediately, but really he wa
supine for half an hour. He sat u
finally, and a. he came back to a sittin,
posture, still muttering necessarily,
wild cry rang across the desert. 1t wa
inarticulate, but there was despair il
It. 1t sounded startlingly close and i
had the singular effect to sober Mr.
Hope, as it were. The shock of it made
him sane. He staggered to his fee
and looked about him klinkingiy.
Not so yards away stood woman
or girl child, he could not tell which
The figure stretched its hands TOWARD
him and he went to it doubtingly. L
was in slightly better case than he
for it could still talk. 1t said:
"For Gods sake, water!"
Hope mumbled something. intended
for There is not water in This coun
try" He stared at the figure; the fig
ure stared at him from under loose
hair. In these circumstances seq
ceases. He put his arm about the fig
ure's waist and supported it. He was g
brave man, was Hope, and he told him
self in that instant that here was life
miserably dependent upon his own anC
that he would work harder to save II
than he had yet worked. The thought
seemed to give him strength, and he
stood erect for the first time in many
hours. His implacable science told him
that there was no drinkable water in
Death valley, but he remembered that
when he was an idle and purposeless
boy he used to read Beadle's dime nov.
els, and in one of these novels was a
heroic Indian slayer who had got water
in the valley by digging for it with his
tomahawk. He almost smiled at the
recollection and he wished that he
might have the snug, well-fed, un'
thirst author of that romance for AZ
hours in the valley itself, instead OF
in his New York room, with hot and
cold water pipes within ten feet OF
him. Nevertheless lie kept his arm
about the figure and gently urged it
onward.
They came to cleft, or l>agthy de-
preston, in the Internal soil. Possibly
100000 of years ago it had been a
creek. It's bed was still defined and
it was of sand. Hope cast about
Linn until he found a silver of red rock,
sharp-pointed, foot wide and three
feet long-just a scale of the stone, in
fact-and with this he set to digging
slowly. The sand was loose, and by
heroic effort at the end of an hour or
two he had gone down four feet in a
narrow hole. The woman sat near him.
She had not uttered a word since her
first pitiful plea and she did not watch
him while he dug. Six inches further
and the sand became moist. Another
foot and water could be squeezed from
it; another foot and small pool of it,
six inches across and a half inch deep,
was visible. 1t was hot but sweetish,
evidently seep from some one of the
s. line or alkaline lakes, and the min
raj had been filtered from it In its
passage. Set it down to the everlast-
ing credit of Francis Hope that he
climbed from the hole, went to the
woman, brought her to its edge, took
a half pint in his hat and poured 1t
down her throat, while his own lips
were bleeding. I say that Sir Philip
Sidney, riding from battle with a
broken thigh and giving his last drop
to wounded soldier, did not do finer
deed. Five small swallows of the water
restored the scientific mind to its nor
NAL precision, and he saw that neither
his companion nor himself got too
much of it. They rested by the little
pool until the sun set, then took final
Graught and set out. Reason had come
back to her eyes, and she placed her
hand in his as she stepped out bravely,
his eye on a fixed point dimly seen in
the dusk. At ten that night they came
to trail, broad and beaten, and lay
down beside it to sleep, the woman
resting her head upon his shoulder like
a tired child. At midnight a 16-muls
team came by. 1t dragged a huge
wagon loaded with crude borax, and
the driver alternately swore and sang,
He gave them food and drink, asked
few questions, and, supposing them to
be man and wife, offered them bed
in his huge enormous vehicle. Sex had
reasserted itself. Hope laughed and
the woman blushed. So she curled her
self in the rear end of it and Hope went
to the forward end, 20 feet away, and
between them was mountainous bar
rier of borax.
Next day she told him her story. Her
father and brothers were Californians
and prospectors camped upon the edge
of the desert. She had quit school and
accompanied them for the novelty of
it and had wandered from the tent in
pursuit of beetles. She had been more
saving with her water bottle and had
been out IL hours longer than Hope.
Her name was Beatrice Holden, and
while she rode she blossomed out won
derfully, finally ending as a frank,
somewhat plump and very pretty girl
of 20, with a constant trustfulness in
and dependence upon her rescuer.
They went to the Needles together and
from there to Los Angeles, where she
had friends. The end of it was that he
asked her to marry him, and she did.
He took her to Washington with him
and has got out of his experience a
charming wife, magazine article or
two. an impressionisti description of