Los Angeles herald., 1906-04-01

u
reg lar. He'd about all the voice there ever was
in your family, eh, Steve?"
you're right there" Steven rejoined. Father
couldn't even carry Old Hundred, an as for me,
| can't more'n whistle Duke Street to this day,
though I've practiced faithful An when it
comes to singn' those pesky high notes floor me.
One solid note way down deep is bout all can
tackle But Tony could always take the whole
lot an as for the turns an shakes to hear him
was like listenin' to lark sngin' in the mornln
when all creations fresh.
"Yes, sir he went on Strengthening his bent
shoulders proudly, they're speakin' of my broth
er, my only brother, an it is qualification to
know how he's held here | don't want to seem
boastful, but therel if you'd known him in the
cid days you'd understand. There never was such
boy as Tony-never. He'd face like one of
those pictures you sometimes in a book, only
with light it such as never creeps into the
book, an eyes the color of brown leaves in a
pool when the shines on em. An he was
always smilin. There were just the two of us
Tony an me, me an Tony, for | come first
'cordn' to year, though it don't right to
mention me before him. Even if he younger
he outdistanced me in everything At school,
though I'd goodish start, he caught up an
passed me surprisin' quick; never was much at
my books. but there wa mt lesson Tony couldn't
master. We set heap by him, an it a sad
Gay, | tell you. when he went away to make his
fortune; but, mother said, couldn't look
to keep him always. The world wanted just
such men as he; keeping him at home would
have been like shutting the sun up in one spot
ii that could be, an not lettin' it shine any
where else. Father had died the year before so
there was only mother an up at the old
place, but Tony didn't forget us. He was what
you might call irreg'lar correspondent his
time ben pretty crowded; besides, l don't think
it's born in man to be fond O letter-writin'
There ant nothn like white page to scare
away ideas CORY! the few times I've been
called on to write I've most chewed off the pen
handle thinkin' what to say after I've put down
the headin's-."
Everybody knows you're different from Tony.
"That's true; l was only jedgin' from myself to
account for the reason he didn't write oftener.
Well, sir, what do you s'pose that boy did, come
Christmas? He sent us home presents bought
with his first spendin' money. An mother
why, bless you, she was the proudest woman on
the globe. You see, he was her Benjamin; but,
youngest or eldest. it wouldn't have made no diff
ference so long as he was what he She
loved him in a way that made you swallow quick.
She got little unreasonable as time went on an
he didn't come home ben' woman she couldn't
understand that a mans got to stick to his work
early an late if he's goin' to carry it through.
She fretted herself sick lookin' for him, but
know she understood before she went that he
didn't come because he couldn't come. Dooty
an Inclination travel in single harness in this
world, an seldom along the same road.
There's been no call to bring him back of late
years, I'm the only up to the old house
now an it's longish way to where he is in the
West. He's sort of grown up with the place,
identified himself with it, you might say; bein
head man there, with everyone lookin' to him.
it wouldn't do to pull up stakes an come home
But he remembers Little Silver an is proud of
it; the boys have come to see that now, an
guess they feel the years haven't changed Tony
particle"
Steven Deane pushed back his chair and looked
around the circle with beaming face, if his
own meagre living were in some way glorlhed by
his brothers. more splendid achievement. Then
be cleared his throat noisily and rose, shuffing
his feet and bustling about for his lantern. This
signal of departure followed by a general
clatter of chairs. Little Silver was always quick
to act upon an initiative; suddenly the men dis
covered that the fire and their pipes, together
with Stevens monotonous voice, had made them
d1owsy. They chaffed him good-naturedly as
they filed out into the raw night, those who lived
at a distance carrying lanterns whose swaying
lights cast strange shapes upon the frozen ground
As the door opened, the listener concealed him
self hastily behind some empty barrels, whence
he watched the little company disperse; the
sound of their voices calling goodnight foated
back to him with an accent of cheer. When the
quiet had settled again upon the street, he came
cut from his hiding. Far ahead of him low
light glmmered like some little star gone astray
on the earth. He hurried forward, trying to keep
UP with its shining but suddenly it turned at
right angles from the road he taking and
seemed to climb skywards The next moment it
vanished completely.
The man kept on resolutey. After a short
interval he left the road for narrow lane which
wound up the hillside, pushing forward with
breathless impatience until his further progress
was barred by low dark building, its rambling
outline only vaguely perceptible in the gloom.
There was single light in the lower window at
one side of the door, He stopped for a moment
at the porch before mounting the step; there
was but one, he remembered. The wood creaked
under his football and the boisterous wind echoed
the sound mockingly. He put out trembling