The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1903-11-20

| pilC was SlOWlnS oul CT SNCiy
day, through the might of John Barley.
corn lose fortune, hope, manhood. He
had seen men, single-minded as him.
self in making stake and returning
to make home for some waiting one
die of exposure and overwork in theil
zeal to accomplish their end. While
he, although his stake was too modest
to be called strike, was now able tc
go home and claim his reward.
| Again the breath of honeysuckles
seemed to blow strong upon him as he
read, at the end OF the twenty-seventh
page:
| And 1 shall meet you where we parted
| at the turn of the lane, where you shall
| give your whistle as you did when we
were children, and L will answer back
| We will go home together you and l.
| under the willows along the stream, and
| if it should be twilight when you come
it will not matter if for once we loiteI
| a little on the way.
The zap of Yank was now too far
below to reach him, but Yank was do
ing his best to make himself heard
| and the smoking and talking in the
camp had taken on a new energy. An
| excited posse had ridden over from
Rattlesnake Bar and stopped in front
of the Round Tent saloon.
'The tracks were the freshest along
the creek" the spokesman of the posse
was saying as he dismounted, land if
he didn't come through this camp he'd
"a had to go all the way round by
Jimtown,' cycling the group of idlers
as if they might all have a charge of
which to clear themselves.
"And it was turrible bungling job,
anyways" Clipped in Pike, thereby
generating himself from suspicion, for
he had reputation for adeptness in
that line.
UNLESS he done it that way a pur-
pose to throw 'em off," suggested a
bystander with more meaning in his
tone than was wholesome for Pike.
The spokesman of the posse noticed
this insinuation, and Pike, under his
beard, went white about the gills.
"If it's a tenderfoot you're lookin'
for this camp amt likely place to find
one Pike said, pridefully. We've
only got the Kid, but wouldn't say a
word agin him."
I'VE tracked the man a good way
from the cabin the speaker contin-
ued; 1--WE know the size of his boot and
that he toes in,' keeping an eye on
Pike, 'and it's pretty safe guess he
came from this direction"
Pixies mention of the Kid had
seemed so preposterous no one had
taken it up, but when toeing in had
been suggested, several of the miners
exchanged glances, for the Kids
pigeon-toed gait had been one of their
oldest gibes.
where's this here kid?" demanded
one of the Rattlesnake men,
HE lit out when he heard you COM
in and struck into the woods" Pike
fastened to say. And nobody remem-
bered he had gone half an hour before
the posse arrived.
'Oh, now don't you go to sayin' the
Kid would do thing like that" Pike
continued, generously. You see he
ways, he says he's struck pocket"
with grin, land he's hustlin' lickety-
split to get the next steamer. Lord,
| wouldn't never suspect the Kid of
such thing" added Pike, nice, kind
Mr.. Pike, driving the first nail secure
ly into the Kids coffin.
who is this fellow?" the Rattle
snake men then asked And the infor-
matjcn was pieced together that no.
nody knew much about him; that he
kept a good deal to himself, and had
been seen TO strike out into the woods
on the day of the murder; that he
worked his own claim, and didn't have
a 'pardner;" that lately he had seemed
to have more money than usual; that
he had told several of the boys he was
about to pull up stakes. Yes, on the
whole, now you come to look at it that
way, a rather suspicious character!
And Jamison, the while, saw moth
ing but the tall white hollyhocks, the
moonlight filtering through the rose
thatch on the soft hair of the girl
WiiOoC ClCal uCSp eyes duSWcl0u HIS
steadily, thought for thought. A mer-
ciful purple mist arose in the ravine
below, wrapping the colony of tents
in temporary oblivion, and shutting
him in with his lost paradise A baby
grosbeak fluted a drowsy cali above
his head, and from under the log on
which he sat sly little woodrat SAL
lied forth for nocturnal raid. The
crimson glow in the west was spent,
and stealthy twilight cleaned over
the tree-tops. Jamison strained his
eyes to read the last few lines on the
thirtieth page:
This is the last letter I will have to
write you, and the gladness of our meet
ing makes these long years of waiting
almost worth while, for every thought
has been with you, every hope has been
for you, and every day has seemed an
eternity until shall see you. But now
that the suspense is almost over, 1 can
be patient, and our meeting, when it
does come, will be the sweeter for it's
long postponement.
Never before had she made such a
full confession to him. Her staid New
England tongue had never known how
to frame impassioned words. He
closed his eyes to shut away the in
/