Audubon County journal. (Exira, Iowa) 1884-1993, 1903-03-05

gSlsSsB the winter too, busy as l was
filling in my Black Rock sketches for
the railway people who would still
persist in ordering them by the dozen,
the memory of that stirring life would
come over me, and once more l would
be among the silent pines and the
mighty snow peaked mountains, and
before me would appear the red shirt
ed shanty men or dark faced miners,
great, free. bold fellows. driving me al
most mad With the desire to seize and
fix those swiftly changing groups of
picturesque figures. At such times
would drop my sketch and with eager
brush seize a group, a face. Il figure,
and that is how my studio comes to be
filled with the men of Black Rock
There they are about ne-Graeme and
the men from the woods, Sandy. Bap-
tiste, the Campbells and in many atti-
tudes and groups, old man Nelson;
Craig too, and his miners, Shaw, Geor
die, Nixon, poor old Billy and the keep
er of the league saloon.
1t seemed as if l lived among them,
and the illusion was greatly helped by
the vivid letters Graeme sent me from
time to time. Brief notes came now
and then from Craig, too, to whom 1
had sent faithful account of how I
had brought Mrs. Mavor to her ship
and Of how l had watched her sail
away with none too brave a face as
she held up her hand that bore the
miners ring and smiled with that deep
light in her eyes. All, those eyes have
driven me to despair and made me
fear that l am no great painter after
all, in spite of what my friends tell
me who come in to smoke my good
cigars and praise my brush! l can get
the brow and hair and mouth and
pose, but the eyes-the eyes elude me.
And the faces of Mrs. Mavor on my
wall, that the men praise and rave
over, are not such as 1 could show to
any of the men from the mountains.
Graeme's letters tell me chiefly about
Craig and his doings and about old
man Nelson, while from Craig I Hear
about Graeme and how he and Nelson
are standing at his back and doing
what they can to fill the gap that new
together, / can see, and 1 am glad for
them all, but chiefly for Craig, whose
face, grief stricken, but resolute and
often gentle as a woman's, will not
leave me or let me rest in peace.
The note of thanks he sent me was
| entirely characteristic. There were no
heroics, much less pining or self pity.
1t was simple and manly, not ignoring
the pain, but making much of the joy.
That note, so clear, so manly, so nobly
sensible, stiffens my back yet at times.
In the spring came the startling news
that Black Rock would soon be no
more. The mines We're to close down
on April 1. The company, having al
lured the confiding public with entic-
ing descriptions of marvellous drifts,
veins, assays and prospects and having
expended vast sums Of the public's
money in developing the mines till the
assurance of their reliability was alb
solutely final, calmly shut down and
vanished. With their vanishing van
ishes Black Rock, not without loss and
mucl deep cursing on the part of the
men brought some hundreds of miles
to aid the company in its eXrraordina
ry and WHO'LL ineXplicable game
Personally it grieved me 70 think
that my plan Of returning to Black
Rock could never be carried out. 1t
was great compensation, however,
that the three men most representative
to me of that life were soon to visit
me actually in my own home and den.
Graemes letter said that in one month
they might be expected to appear. At
least he and Nelson We're soon to come,
and Craig would soon follow
On receiving the great news at once
looked up young Nelson and his sister,
full prospect with specially good din.
ner. l found the greatest delight in
| picturing the Joy and pride OF the old
man in his children, whom be, had not
seen Cor fifteen or sixteen years. The
mother had died some five years be-
| fore. Then the farm was solo. and the
| brother and sister came into the city,
and any father might be proud of them.
The son was well made young fellow,
| laluSOIue eIlOuSu, LuOuSELEIl Auu SOllU
looking. The girl reminded ne of her
father The same resolution .yas seen
In mouth and jaw, and the same pas
sion slumbered in the dark gray eyes.
She was not beautiful, but she carried
herself well, and one would always
look at her twice. 1t would be worth
something to see the meeting between
| father and daughter
But fate, the greatest artist of us all,
takes little count Of the careful draw
ing and the bright coloring of our fan
cy's pictures, but with rude hand de-
ranges all and with one swift sweep
! paints out the bright and paints in the
dark and this trick he served me when
one June night, after long and anxious
waiting for some word from the west,
my door suddenly opened and Graeme
walked in upon me like specter, gray
and voiceless. My shout Of welcome
was choked back by the look in his
face, and could only gaze at him and