The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1903-05-18
THE REWARD OF A HERO


When knew him best he was editor
OF the Laramie Boomerang, a wonder
ful paper, which appeared whenever
Bill could rake together enough money
and enough determination to publish
it. 1t looked more like handful than
a newspaper, but Nye took a justifiable
pride in it. He had no lore IDEA Of
the value OF a dollar than a pig has OF
Sunday, but he saw so little money
that he could not be held accountable
for this sheftcoming
1t always seemed strange to me that
Nye's wit should have blossomed as it
did in that lonely country. I first met
him at Laramie. He was one of the
great figures Of the camp, and was in
deed picturesque character, sur
rounded as he was by the cowboy, the
scout, the brOncho breaker, the pony
express rider, and all that class OF
rough and ready men, And Bill was
the quaintest OF the lot. In appear
ance he was enough to burst ones head
with laughter He looked exactly like
the bald-headed caricatures with which
his stories were illustrated, and no one
ever saw him smile. He was single at
the time I met him, but I did not know
that
bill Nye would play a joke upon Il
new found friend as quickly as ne
would on an old one, and he was a
most ingenious actor. One morning 1
was riding into Laramie from the IN
dependence region, and met Bill COM
ing along the street. He hailed me,
calling, Good morning, Jack
Good morning, Bill said I. How
are you today@
"An expression of agony crossed
Bills face as he answered: I am heart
broken. The child is dead
BILL looked so much the picture Of
despair that I was greatly touched. 1
=. = IN
in the hour Of his extreme affection
He didn't know that I could be of any
assistance asked him If he intended
getting an undertaken. He said he
didn't know what to do.
81 I don't think anything can be done.
Jack said Bill. Tt is dead beyond re-
demption,' he went on. as he SMILED
and wiped his left eye with an old, torn
bandana handkerchief He told me
that the dead child lay at his cabin, a
place I had never visited.
I'VE walked together across the prai-
RE. passed a few 'dugODts' and huts,
and finally reached a dilapidated cabin
built of rejected railroad ties and old
boards, none of which was nailed on
straight He swung the door open on
its leather hinges and bade me enter.
Inside I saw an old, broken bed, a
three-legged chair, a dry goods box,
which served for a washstand, and an
>
of course, for Bill was unmarried, but
I didn't know it. The idea that there
should be a woman in the house never
entered my head
THE tumble down bed was covered
with a knit spread of wonderful and
hideOus design. In the center and I'M
derneath the coverlid was a hump
about the size of a child. With the ut
most sorrow depicted in MS face, and
with a faltering voice he said, as he
pointed to the humped-up coyerlid
There it is Turn down the spread.
It leaned respectfully over the brok-
en- bed and slowly lifted the cover.
found, to my astonishment, not a child,
but a five gallon demijOhn. with the
cork out and every drop of whisky
gone without cracking smile, !
stood for several minutes gazing at
the empty demijohu. the wreck Of Bill $
spiritual hopes and then. in a voice
full of pathos. I exclaimed: William,
the child shall live again
Il picked up the demijohn, carried 1t
to town and had L filed. There was
no laughter or joking about the affair,
1t was Bill Nye's simple confession
that he was too poor to provide himself
with Proctor Knott. He would not beg,
but through his jokes ne got what he
wanted without asking Tor it