Perrysburg journal. (Perrysburg, Wood Co., O. [Ohio]) 186?-1965, 1911-06-02

the states. 1 say-burn the Indians
hut, sneak to my shack and lay low.
Don't explain anything. Those miners
wouldn't stay in camp a minute, and
the health off1cerd hang me for not re-
portin'. Thanks, old chap, thanks. 1t
was a dirty job for you"
heard no more except the woolies
gathering aloft and hitting the distant
sea with roar. The sturdy little
Doc would finish the job alone,"
Firing the hut from the inside, l
sneaked through the camp toward the
doctors shack.
It SO happened (as it always hap
pens) that on the day after my grue-
some job with Dr. Dickson, one OF the
visiting eastern directors had tire
MENUS case of cramps" as the super
intendent impressively announced.
Now, where was that good-for-noth-
ing. lying, scheming little Doc? Why,
drunk abed. of course"
So, with this verdict, collection of
exasperated directors visited Dick
sons shack to rout him out. The door
unlocked, but the doctor was nowhere
in camp. A meeting of the directors
was called which resolved that it was
dangerous to the camp to continue the
employment of man who was this
that and the other bad, incompetent,
unfaithful thing. So Doc was dis
charged on the spot, the while an in
vitation was prepared to another phy-
sician at Juneau to come and fill the
exalted position.
1t was an innate sense OF Fespon-
sibility which impelled me to steal
away on the third night after Dick
son had gone to sea with his sick
wards. Packing my light kit I bum
died up what remained and left 1t
labeled to follow me in the Mary Ann
when the visiting directors returned to
Ketchikan. My note to them did not
create favorable impression of my
attentiveness to their distressed busi-
ness.
Gentlemen: AS l may serve you
| more by finding DR.. Dickson than by
remaining in camp, 1 have left some
| of my duffle to accompany you on
your voyage to Ketchikan. / am
cruising down the bay to hunt>for him
and for-bears. While sailing, please
look for my fire and freshly-blazed
spruce on your port side. Kindly blow
the launch whistle every two miles
down. ought to be from six to eight
miles south on the west coast of
Prince of Wales Island"
From the Doctors shack 1 appro-
priated his rife, supply of ammuni-
tion and such medicines as I thought
he might need; also took some
Scotch whisky, and brandy, pies and
tobacco, a cot, tent and bedding, a
stove, shotgun and shells, field glass,
disinfectants, and all the provisions
| could induce the cook to hand out.
One of the squaw's babies had died
on the day following their rough voy,
age from the mine. And the other
little varmint," said Dickson softly
will pass in his checks presently. The
squaw'll pull through II the buck don't
lay down this week. I'm goin' to
stand by the case a while longer II
You say the boss isn't cussin' of me. >
Early the next day we heard the
siren of the Mary Ann. The launch
was sailing down the bay. What
said to the rubicund and pudgy Doc
and just what he said to me as he
stood off twenty yards or so with eyes
of greater eloquence than his quaint
tongue had ever known, doesn't mat
ter here and now. Suffice 1t that
made my short but tangled way to the
shore alone, stood under Docs pinl
shirt and near the fat new blaze an,
waited for the Mary Ann. Her pirat,
captain, seeing me waving small
birch signal-fashlon. stopped his en-
gine and drifted as close as he deeme,
prudent. In few moments the launcl