The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1905-01-08
. . - -, =

On Thanksgiving day the entire place
went on a prolonged drunk The Rough
T Red distinguished himself by rolling
/ the round stove through the door into
the snow. He was badly burned in ac-
complishing this delicate jest, but mind
ed the smart no more than he did the
admiring cheers OF his maudln but en-
{ Ulative mates. E-itz Patrick extin-
/ guished a dozen little fires that the
Goals started. shifted the Intoxicated
MaIlan's leg out OF the danger of some
ones falling on it, and departed from
that roaring hell-hole to the fringe of
I the solemn forest. And this brings us
| to Fitz Patrick.
Fitz Patrick was a tan. slow man,
with q face built square. The lines OF
his brows, his mouth and bis jaw ran
straight across those of his temples,
cheeks and nose straight up an down
! His eye was very quiet and his speech
rare. When he did talk it was with
deiiberatiOn. For days. sometimes he
would calculate nothing but monosyl-
tables, looking steadily on the things
about him.
He was walking in ahead of the tote
team late one evening i'm the autumn
after the Rough Red and his devils had
/ been at work fortnight. The camp
consisted quite simply of three build
ihgs, which might have been identified
as cook camp. a sleeping camp and a
stable. Fitz Patrick entered the sleep
ing camp, stood his slender scaling rule
| in the corner and peered about him
through the dusk of single lamp
He saw round stove III the center, a
Uttered and dirty floor. hunks filled
with horrible straw and worse blankets
! jumbled here and there. old and dirty
clothes drying fetidly. He saw an un-
kempt row of hard-faced men along
the deacon seat. reckless i'm bearing.
hn 15craF Of I,
eyes.
Where is the boss?" asked Fitz Pat
rick steadily
The Rotgh Red lurched his huge
form toward the intruder
I am your scaler," explained the lat
ter. Where is the Officer"
You kin have the bunk beyand," in
dicated the Rough Red surily.
You have no office. them
What's good enough fer tn men is
good enough fer a boss; and what's
good enough fer tn boss is good fer any
blank BANKED scaler"
1T is not good enough for this one"
replied F'itZ Patrick camly. Il have
no notion of sleepin' and Workin' in no
such noise an dirt. I need an Office
to keep me books and tn van Not a
log do 1 scale for We Jimmy Bourke,
till yeze give me fit place to tally in"
And so il came about. though the
struggle lasted three days. The Rough
Red stormed restlessly between the
woods and the camp, delivering ire
mendous broadsides of oaths and
! threats Fitz Patrick sat absolutely
imperturbab BILE on the deacon seat look
ing straight in front of MIN, his legs
stretched comfortably ashanti one hand
| supporting the elbow of the other.
which in turn held his short brier pipe.
Good mOrnin' to We, Jimmy Bourke."
said he each morning, and after that
uttered no word until the evening.
when il was Good night to We. Jimmy
Bourke," with final rap. rap. rap of
his pipe.
The cook, a thin faced, sly man. with
a penchant for the Police Gazette, Sc
cretly admired him.
Luke out fer tn Rough Red: he'll
do ye!' he would whisper hoarselv
when he passed the silent scaler.
But in the three days the Rough Red
Put his men to work on a little cabin.
F1tz Patrick at once took his scaling
rule from the corner and set out into
! the forest
His business was, by measuring the
diameter of each log. to ascertain and
tabulate the number Of board feet nut
| IN by the contractor. On the basis of
his single report James Bourke would
De paid for the seasons work newt
ably he at once became James