Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1902-11-13
CHAPTER I.
CHRISTMAS EVE IN A 1uMnrR Z

heart of the Sellirks for my Christina.
eve as the year 1882 was dying. 1t haf
been my plan to spend my Christmas
Tar away in Toronto With such DO
hemlan and boon companions as could
be found in that cosmopolitan anG
kindly city. But Leslie Graeme chang
ed all that, for, discovering me in the
village Of Black Rock, with my traps
all packed, waiting for the stage to
start for the Landing, thirty miles
away, ne bore down upon me with re-
sistless force, and found myself re.
covering from my surprise only after
we had gone in his lumber sleigh some
six miles on our way to his camp I'D in
| the mountains. l was surprised and
| much delighted, though 1 would not
allow him to think so, to find that his
old time power over me was still there.
He could always in the old varsity
days-dear, wild days-make me do
what he liked. He was so handsome
and so reckless, brilliant in his class
work and the prince of halfbacks on
the Rugby field and with such power
of fascination as would extract the
heart out of wheelbarrow," as Barney
Lundy used to say. And thus it was that
found myself just three weeks later
was to have spent two or three days
on the afternoon of the 24th of Deem
Der, standing in Graeme's Lumber
Camp No. 2, wondering at myself. But
did not regret my changed plans, for
in those three weeks l had raided a
cinnamon bears den and had Weakened
up grizzly. But I shall let the grizzly
finish the tale. He probably sees more
humor in it than l.
The camp stood in a little clearing
and consisted Of group of three long,
low shanties, with smaller shacks near
them, all built of heavy, unhewn logs,
with door and window in each. The
grub camp, with cook shed attached,
stood in the middle of the clearing; at
little distance was the sleeping camp
with the Office built against it, and
about hundred yards away on the
other side Of the clearing stood the
stables and near them the smiddy. The
mountains rose grandly on every side,
throwing up their great peaks into
the Sky. The clearing in which the
camp stood was hewn out of dense
pine forest that filled the valley and
climbed half way up the mountain
sides and then frayed out in scattered
and stunted trees.
1t was one of those wonderful Cana
dian winter days. bright and with
touch of sharpness in the air that did
not chill, but warmed the blood like
drafts of wine. The men We're up in
the woods, and the shrill scream of the
bluejay flashing across the open, the
1mpudent chatter of the red squirrel
from the top of the grub camp and the
pert chirp of the whisky jack hopping
about on the rubbish heap. with the
long, lone cry Of the wolf far down the
valley, only made the silence felt the
more.
AS l stood drinking in with all my
soul the glorious beauty and silence Of
mountain and forest. with the Christ
mas feeling stealing into me, Graeme
came out from his Office and, catching
sight Of me. called out, "Glorious
Christmas weather, old chapw and
then, coming nearer. "Must you 90 to-
morrow?"
II fear so," replied, knowing well
that the Christmas feeling was on him
too.
II wish were going with you," he
said quietly.
turned eagerly to persuade him, but
at the look Of suffering in his face the
words died on my lips. for we both
were thinking Of the awful night Of
horror when all his bright, brilliant
life crashed down about him in black
ruin and shame. could only throw my
arm over his shoulder and stand silent
beside him. A sudden jingle of bells
reused him and. giving himself a little
shake, he exclaimed:
"There are the boys coming home"
Soon the camp was filled with men
talking, laughing. chatting like light
hearted boys.
'"They are little wild tonight" said
Graeme, "and tomorrow they'll paint
Black Rock red.'
Before many minutes had gone the
last teamster was washed up" and all
were standing about waiting impa-
tiehtly for the cooks signal-the sup
per tonight was to be Something Of a
feed"-when the sound Of bells drew
their attention to light sleigh drawn
by buckskin broncho coming down
the hillside at great pace.
1.-THE preacher. I'll bet, by his driv-
ing" said one Of the men.
"Bedad, and it's him has the foine
nose for turkey" said Blaney, good
natured, jovial Irishman.
Eyes, or for pay day, more like"
said Keefe. black browed, villainous
fellow countryman Of Blaney's and,
strange to say, his great friend.
Big Sandy McNaughton. Canadian
highlander from Glengarry, rose up in
wrath. "Bill Keefe," said he, with de-
1iberate emphasis. you'll just keep
your dirty tongue off the minister, and
as for your pay, it's little he sees of
1t or any one else, except Mike Slavin,
when you're too dry to wait for some
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