Atlanta semi-weekly journal. (Atlanta, Ga.) 1898-1920, 1909-02-26

our camp and out again in the night,
and as I didn't drink nor listen to the
music OF the little rolling ball, why, we
never met. even after he began coming
% Chandon. Understand, 1 wasn't too
good for those amusements; just didn't
happen TO banker after them, for / was
living with the image Of the little school
ma'am In my mind. and that destroyed
what bad habits I'd formed
1T was along in the early spring thar
she began TO see had notions about her,
but my damned backwardness wouldn't
let me speak. and, in addition, 1 was get
ting closer to ore every shot at the mine.
and was holding of until could lay
both myself and my gold mine at her feet,
and ask her to take the two Of us, 50
II one didn't pan out the other might.
But it seemed like I'd never get into pay.
The closer / got the harder I worked, and
OF course, the less 1 saw Of her, likewise
the oftener Bennett came. reckon no
man ever worked like I did-two shifts
a day. eighteen hours. with six to sleep.
The skin came of my hands, and I stag
gered when I came out into the day
light, for the rock was hard, and 1 had no
money to hire helper; but was young
and strong. and the hope OF her was
like drink and food and sleep to me. At
last struck il. and still 1 waited awhile
longer till I could be sure. Then I went
down TO my little shack and put on my
other clothes. I remember I'd gone so
thin that they hung loose, and my palms
were so raw I had hard work handling
the buttons, and got my shirt all bloody.
for I'd been in,th drift forty hours, with
out sleep and breathing powder smoke.
till my knees buckled and wabbled UNI
der me. To this day the smell of stale
powder makes a woman of me; but that
morning l sang, for I was going for my
bride, and the world was brighter than
Il has ever been for eighteen years. The
little school-house was closed, at which
1 remembered that the term was over.
I'd been living under ground for weeks
and lost track of the days. so that I had
to count them up on my fingers. 1t took
me a long time, for / was pretty tired in
my head; but when I'd figured 1t out
went on to where she was boarding.
The woman Of the place came to the
door, a Scotch woman. She had a mole
on her chm, 1 remember, a brownish-
black mole with three hairs in it. She
wore an apron. too, that was kind of
checkered, and three buttons were open
at the neck of her dress. 1 recall a lot
more Of little things about her, though
the rest Of what happened is rather
dreamy.
L asked for Merridy, and she told me
she'd gone away-gone with Bennett. the
night before, while I was coughing blood
from the powder smoke; that they were
married in the front room. and that the
bride looked beautiful. She had cried a
bit on leaving Chandon, and-and-that
was about all. 1 counted the buttons or
the scotchwoman's waist eight or ten
time. and by-and-by she asked If was
sick. But 1 wasn't. She was a kind
hearted woman, and I'd been to her house
good deal. so she asked me TO come
in and rest. L wasn't tired, so I went
away. and climbed back UP TO the little
shack and the mine that 1 hated now"
The trader paused, and, reaching Tor
the bottle, poured himself out a glass OF
brandy, which he spilled into his throat
raw, then continued:
IT turned into a kind of hermit after
that, and wasn't good TO associate with.
Men got so they Stunned me, and 1
knew they told strange stories, because 1
heard them whisper whea 7 went to the
stores for grub once a month. 1 changed
all over. till even my squirrels and part
ridges and other friends quit me; once
in awhile I got out ton or two Of rock
and sold II, but / never worked the mine
or opened IL up-I couldn't bear to go in
side the drift. / tried it time and again,
but the smell OF its darkness drove me
out; every foot Of it's ragged walls had
/ left its mark on me, and my heart was
torn and gouged and shivered worse than
/ its seams and lodges. 1 could have
sold it. but there was no place for me to
go. and what did I want with money?
was shy Of the world. like a crippled
child that breads the daylight. and !
shrank from going out where people
might see my scars; so I stayed there
, by myself nursing the hurt that never
l got any better. You see, I'd been raised
among the hills and rocks. and was
like them in a way; I couldn't grow and
! alter and heal up.
From time to time heard Of her, but
/ the news, instead Of gladdening me, as
I It would have gladdened some men,
wrung out what bits OF suffering were
J left in me. and I feairly ached for her.
} Nobody comes to see clearer than a wo-
man deceived. so it didn't take her long
! to find out the kind of man Bennett was.
I He wasn't like her at all, and the rea-
son he had courted her so hotly was
just that he had had everything that
rightly belongs to a man like him, and
I had sickened OF II, so he wanted hor be-
cause she was clean and pure and diff
ferent: and realizing that he couldn't get
her any other way. he had married her.
! But she was treasure no bad man could
I appreciate, and so he tired quickly, even
/ before the little one came.
/ when heard that she had borne him
a daughter I wrote her a letter, which
took me a month TO compose. and which
/ tore up. One day a story came to me
that made me saddle my horse to ride
down and kill him-and. mind you, was
a man who made pets Of little Wild, trust
ing things. But I knew she would surely
send for me when her pain became toe
great, so I uncinched my gear and huns
Il up. and waited and waited and waited
Three long, endless years I waited, al
most within sound of her voice, without 9
word from her. without a glimpse Of her
and every hour OF that time went by as
slowly as II / had held my breath. Their
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