The Roswell daily record. [volume] (Roswell, N.M.) 1903-current, 1907-11-06

saw high and7 crooked, they'll chuck
the tops. Who ere we going to sendtto
scale for EN-?
Morrison sighed-s "I nate to do it;
there's only Fitz can make it CO."
So then they called to them another
of their best men, named Fitz Patrick,
and sent him away alone to protect the
firms interests in the depths of the
wilderness.
The Rough Red was a big, broad
faced man with eyes far apart and a
bushy red beard. He wore a dingy
mackinaw coat, a dingy black and
white checked flannel shirt. dingy blue
trousers tucked into high socks and
Iumberman's rubbers. The only spot
of color in his costume was the fam
ing red sash of the voyageur which he
passed twice around his waist. When
at work his little wide eyes fickered
with a baleful wicked light, his huge
voice beloved through the Woo In a
torrent of -imprecations and com
mands, his splendid muscles swelled
visibIy even under his loose blanket
coat as he Wrenched suddenly and
savagely at some mans stubborn can't
hook stock. A hint of reluctance or OPP
position brought his fist to the mark
with irresistible impact. Then he
would pluck his victim from the snow
and kick him to work, with a savage
jest that raised a laugh from every
body-excepting the object of it.
In the work was little system, but
much efficacy. The men gambled.
drank, fought, without a word of pro-
test from their leader. With an ordi-
nary crew such performances would
have meant slight accomplishment. but
these wild Irishmen with their blood
shot eyes, their ready jests, their
equally ready fists plunged into the
business of banking logs with all the
abandon Of a carouse-and the work
was done.
Law in that wilderness was not,
saving that which the Rough Red
chose to administer. Except In one
instance. penalty more severe than a
beating there was non for the men
could not equal their leader in break
ing the greater and lesser laws of
morality. The one instance was that
of young Barney Mallan, who, while
Trunk, mishandled a horse so severely
as to lame it. Him the Rough Red
called to formal account.
Don't We now that horses can't be
had?" he demanded, s~ingularly enough
without IN oath. Come here"
The man approached. With a single
powerful blow of a starting bar the
Rough Red broke his tibia.
"Try tn lameness yerself," said the
Rough Red grizzly.
On Thanksgiving day the entire
place went on a prolonged drunk
The Rough Red distinguished himself
by rolling the round stove through the
door into the snow. He was badly
burned Iii accomplishing this delicate
jest, but minded the smart no more
than he did the admiring cheers of his
maudlin but cumulative mates. Fitz
Patrick extinguished a dozen little
fires that the Goals had started. shifted
the intoxicated MalIan's leg out of the
danger of some ones falling on it, and
departed from that roaring hell hole
to the fringe of the solemn forest. And
this brings US TO Fitz Patrick.
Fitz Patrick was a tail, slow man
with a face built square. The lines
OF his brows, his mouth and his jaw
ran straight across; those of his tenn
pies, cheeks and nose straight up and
down. His eye was very quiet and his
speech rare. When he did talk it was
with deIiberatiOn. For days some
times he would calculate nothing but
monosyllables, looking steadily on the
things about him.
He had walked in ahead of the tote
team late one evening in the autumn
after the Rough Red and his devils had
been at work a fortnight. The camp
consisted quite simply of three build
ings, which might have peer identi-
fed as a cook camp, a sleeping camp
and a stable. Fitz Patrick entered the
sleeping camp, stood his slender seal
ing rule in the corner and peered about
him through the dusk of a single lamp.
He saw a round stove in the center.
q littornd anL lirtE Eanr LLlnl-. GILL; !