The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-11-20
< THE KIDS s
HOMECOMING. |
BY MARGUERITE STABLER.
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NNTHEN the usual quantity of bacon
wv and beans had been consumed

IN \ luO usual Vi bacon
wv and beans had been consumed
and the leavings cleared up by Yank,
the men lit their pipes and proceeded
to review the details of the recent MUIR
der at Rattlesnake Bar. This subject
stimulated thought and looSened
tongues as nothing else could possibly
have done.
You can see the whole business was
a tenderfoot job" opined Pike, the
cook, sousing his kettle into the creek,
or he'd never "a left them pigeon
toed tracks,"
And thereupon arose a spirited dis
cussion as to what the object of the
shooting might have been-theft or
revenge. Each man urged his own ar
gument, until the discussion waxed
hot, handled in the hard, brutalized
manner that comes from the mind in
ured to such occurrences in a commune
ty where might makes right and the
crack OF revolver is undisputed law.
With deeper disgust than ever for
everything about this camp life, the
Kid pushed back from the circle and
slipped away. Into the ravine he
struck, then straight up the mountain
where tier upon tier the tall pines
girded the hillside till the sharp, black
outlines of the topmost row stabbed the
burning sky.
Jamison was called the kid" by his
companions only from custom His
weather-beaten, haggard countenance
bore no suggestion now of immature
youth. Yet this same gaunt, hairy
fellow was the fair-skinned, ruddy
tenderfoot who had cast his lot with
them few years before, and been ever
since the butt of every practical joke
and low, cunning trick their idleness
might devise. For the Kid could not
cook ''sock-eye," or WELD crow-bar,
OF drive pack-train, or carouse, or
even swear, worth speaking of; and
the things he could do, and do well,
were not the accomplishments needed
in prospecting and panning.
Still pulling himself up by the stubby
chaparral, the Kid climbed leaving the
camp and its associations as far behind
as possible. At last the world was lost
below him, the distant cry of a noun
tain lion and the thick, fiat track where
rattler had slid through the red dust
were the only reminders of, a fellow
inhabitant. When safe from the intru-
sion of bacon and tobacco fumes, and
the suggestions of camp life that came
with them, he drew from the bosom of
his flannel shirt bulky little packet,
and the next blissful moment was
thousands of miles from the sordid life
about him. He closed his eyes to see
stately colonnade of tall white hol-
lyhockS leading up to a vine-clad
porch, the air grew heavy with the
breath of honeysuckles, and on the
steps, under the clustering yellow
roses
sharp, fierce zap from Yank smote
his ear and broke the spell. With
bound he was on his feet and off again,
in search of still rarer atmosphere,
for he was reading in a precise little
schoolma' am hand:
1 have read your letter over and over
till L know it all by heart, and all day
long L tell myself you will be home next
month, and all night long dream of our
meeting, but even then it seems too good
to be true.
And so on to the middle of the fif-
teenth page, confessing the pain of the
long weary waiting she had never
spoken of until the end was in sight.
great wave of pity rose in his
heart for the fellows down at the
camp. There had never been any SYM
pathy between them, for he had felt
thei- inimical attitude, and had let
them alone as much as he could. But
his luck had greatened his heart, and
the poor devils at the camp seemed
Ter the first time good-natured, hard
working lot. Many of them, he knew,
had left their homes with the same
hopes and promises that had hallowed
his life, and been less fortunate than
lie. He had seen them, whose every
,.Upe was staked on some claim, work
ing early and late in a frenzied de-
termination to wrench a fortune out