The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1902-12-14
CONTINUED from Last sunday.)

Continued from Last sunday.)
Each night the men returned in the
beautiful dream-like twilight to the
camp. There they sat, after eating,
smoking their pipes in the open
air. Much of the time they sang.
while Phil, crouching wof-like over
his violin. rasped out an accompani-
lnent OF dissonances. From a distance
1t softened and fitted pleasantly into
the framework Of the wilderness. The
mems voices lent themselves well to
the weird minor strains OF the chan
teys. These times-when the men sang,
and the night wind rose and died in
the hemlock tops-were Thorpe's worst
moments. His soul, tired with the
days iron struggle, fell 10 brooding.
Strange thoughts came to him, strange
visions. He wanted something-he
knew not what; he longed, and thrilled,
and rspired to a greater glory than
that OF brave deeds, a softer comfort
than his old foster mother, the wilder
ness, could beStow.
The men were singing in a mighty
chorus, swaying their heads in unison,
and bringing out with roar the en-
phatic words of the crude dittieS writ
ten by some genius from their own
ranks.
Come all ye sons of freedom through
out old Michigan,
Come ali We gallant lumbermen. list to
shanty man.
On the banks Of the Muskegon, where the
OHAwel range the wild woods Ger
while LAUNDERING we go.
Here was the bold unabashed front of
the pioneer, here was absolute certain
ty in the superiority of his calling
absolute scorn of all others. Thorpe
passed his hand across his brow. The
same spirit was once fully and freely
his.
The music of our FURNISHED ak shall make
And many lofty ancient pine win tum-
At night around our shanty fire wen
sing while rude winds blow,
OHA-We'n range the wild woods Ger
while a-lumbering we go!'
That was what he was here for.
Things were going right. It would be
pitfful to fail merely on account of
this idiotic lassitude, this unmanly
weakness, this boyish impatience and
desire for play. He was woodsmani
BE a fellow with these big strong meni
A single voice, clear and high, struck
into a quick measure:
I am a jolly shanty boy,
As you will soon discover;
To all the lodges I am fly,
A hustling pine-woods rover.
peavey-hOOk it is my pride,
An ak 1 well can handle.
To fell tree or punch bull
Get rafting Danny Randall"
And then with a rattle and crash the
whole Fighting Forty shrieked out the
chorus:
Bung yer eye! bung yer eye!
Active. alert, prepared for any emer-
gency that might arise; hearty. ready
for everything, from punching bulls to
telling trees-that was something likei
Thorpe despised himself. The song
went on.
love a girl in Saginaw,
She lives with her mother.
defy all Michigan
To find such another.
She's tail and SLIM her hair is red,
Her face Is plump and pretty.
She's my daisy Sunday best-day girl
And her front name stands for Kitty.
And again as before the Fighting
Forty hOwled truculently:
Bung yer eye! hung yer eye!
The words were vulgar. the air a mere
minor chant. Yet Thorpes mind was
stilled. His aroused subconsciousness
had been engaged in recon-
structing these men entire as
their songs voiced rudeIy the
inner characteristics of their be-
lngs. Now his spirit halted, finger on
lip. Their bravery, pride of caste. re-
source, bravado, boastfulness-aIl these
he had checked off approvingly. Here
now was the idea of the Mate Some
where for each Of them was KITTY
& daisy Sunday best-day girl'; the
eternal feminine; the softer side; the
tenderness, beauty, glory of even so
harsh a world as they We're compelled
TO inhabit- At the present or in the
past these woods roisterers, this Fight
ing Forty, had known love. Thorpe
arose abruptly and turned at random
into the forest. The song pursued him
as he went. but he heard only the clear,
sweet tones, not. the words. And yet
even the words would have spelled to
his awakened sensibilities another idea
would have symboIized, however,
rudely, companienship and the human
delight of acting part before a wo-
man.
A mOssback gave the bidding
Silver Jack bossed the shebang.
And Big Dan played the fiddle
We danced and drank the livelong
With fights between the dancing,
Till Silver Jack cleaned out the ranch
anu sent the AuOSSDdCkS pfdDCl0E.
And with the increasing war and tur-
MOL of the quick water the last shout
of the Fighting Forty mingled family
and was lost;
Bung yer eyei bung yer eye!
Thorpe found himself at the edge of
the woods facing a little glade into
which streamed the radiance of a full
moon.
CHAPTER XXXVIII.
There ne stood and looked silently.
not understanding, not caring to in
duire. Across the way a white-throat
was singing, clear, beautiful, like the
shadow of a dream. The girl stood
listening.
Her small fair head was inclined ever
so little sideways and her finger was
on her lips as though she wished to
still the very hush of night, to which
impression the inclination of her sup
pie body lent its grace. The moonlight
Shone full upon her countenance. Al
little white face it was, with wide.
clear eyes and a sensitive, proud mouth
that now half parted like a child's.
Her eyebrows arched from her straight