Mineral Point tribune. (Mineral Point, Wis.) 1869-1938, 1904-09-15
In the
Cover
BY elliot Wather
BY elliot Watker


| Aren't you going to KISS me good
| by, JackT' The little woman's flush Of
! irritation still burned hotly In her
round cheeks, despite the appealing
brown eyes Her voice was half re-
proachful, hair indignant.
The operator hesitated, biting his lip.
| His face. too, bore traces of wrath.
| Their first quarrel had been a sharp
| passage, and he, being slower of tongue,
| now stood at the door. with an angry
sense Of defeat.
| A chance for parting stab. He
| hoped it would hurt 1t hurt him more
than he expected.
mo. I'm not" he burst out gruftiy.
"We'll skip that, Kate. You women
think a man can be made a target for
whatever you choose to say and then
| brought around at Will I'm not that
Sort
AS he stamped down the steps be
heard her sob, paused, shook his head
| resolutely and went on to his post.
The signal tower looked gloomy
|
ing winter evening. Lawson slipped
on the frosty tracks as he glanced up
at the light glaring from the window.
From the heavy, settling sky fakes OF
| snow were beginning TO whiten the
| tops of the dismal string of empty
| freight cars on the siding.
Its going to be a nasty storm the
man muttered, climbing the stairway.
-Four hours before Bourne shows up.
| Well, Harry will be glad to 90 home
| to his wife. | wish-no, ! don't. ia
| rather be here than uncomfortable in
| the house with a nagging woman Is
| that what | am going to get for ex-
pressing my opinion of mother-in-law
prospective visit? She shan't come"
| Hello. Jack, You're welcome sight.
| was getting nervous. Really it's pref
| ty poky sitting here alone. Every time
! the instrument calls | think, There's
| trouble, Poor Dickson! Who do you
suppose killed him, Jack - a gang or
some rufiian? All alone in the tower,
never dreaming of such n thing, and
then-great heaven. l wouldn't take
your job for SO Il night. You ought to
have some one with YOU"
| "pshaw, Harry Lawson threw off
| his coat You need seasoning, boy.
| Dickson's was Il case of Il man who car
red n wad and Dragged OF it bound to
lose his money some time. That might
have occurred on the street or in his
| bed; merely happened TO be convenient
to nab Kim at his table Tough? |
know, but when you've been ten years
in this business one poor devil going
suddenly isn't subject to get nervous
| prostration over. The big accidents are
| what shake chap
But the way of it, Jack, The idea
"Oh, trot along home, lad. I've moth
| ing to attract marauders except my
good looks. No one will bother me. Of
| ten some fellow drops in for chat. and
Bourne relieves me at midnight. Much
| obliged for your spelling me, Harry.
| 1t gives me a chance for supper at the
| house, and when mans married.
He stopped witt. shrlg of his broad
| shoulders, adding in different tone,
| "All clearT'
"All clear. Jack. Everything on time.
| No. rs went through at G:45. Fast
freight due to pass in ten minutes.
| Goodby. Take care of yourself"
| Likely boy" commented Lawson,
| filling his pipe and sitting down. Good
as any of em already; safe and level
headed. Got nervous, did he? Not the
only one on the line, guess. We all
carry pop now. I must say it's
| handy companion"
He licked of message, rose, gazed
out, grinned, felt of his hip pocket and
scowled.
"Thunder" he exclaimed. Il forgot
It. Confound Kate, She drove every
thing out of my head"
Nothing but his good looks" The
man who stepped inside half hour
later to greet the operator cordially and
| to seat himself ungracefully was not in
| search of money.
Lawson supposed Sharpson was
lover it," Lately the disappointed low
er had appeared very friendly, even to
| calling twice Mt the house Kate had
made MIN welcome. 1t was nonsense,
| the way Sharpson had acted before
| the wedding, but his eccentric temper
| only rendered him n butt for ridicule
A short, thickset. slouching man. black,
| of sparse beard and small, close set
| eyes, he held but sorry chances in the
| lists with John Lawson A foolish
! conceit, surely, that Kate BARLEY cared
| for him and would have been his but
| for the arrival of the big stranger
| from Wheeler Junction, who promptly
and effectively captured the affections
| of the ticket agents daughter. Six
months now and the wrath of Shapson
| forgotten.
Bad night" remarked that gentle
man hrpshirG his sleeves. "Thouaht
"A drop in a moment ana warm up be
fore my tramp"
Where are you bound forl 'Tisn't
much of a night for walk"
Right 1t amt Oh I've got to 90
clear ont to Dashel's. He's sick, ana
I'm on his Job Some things | wanted
70 ask him"
That's a lonely stretch; a blamed
lonesome road Seth You go by that