The Mobridge news. [volume] (Mobridge, Walworth Co., S.D.) 190?-1917, 1914-09-04
TITLE
FORTY-1WO'
By NJ. QUAD
Copyright, 1918 10y Associated Lit
erary Press.
BY NJ. QUAD

Well. now, but weren't we surprised.
You see, we had encountered such q
run of hard luck up at Point Despair
that one morning we packed up, bag
and baggage, TO the last man, and set
off down the trail in search Of some
thing better. | well remember-it was
a hot July day, and there were exactly
forty-one of us.
Seven miles down the trail we came
TO what was then called Uncle Joe's
road, and right at the intersection was
whore the surprise hit us. An immi-
grant family had strayed from the
main party for some reason which we
never aScertained, and right at the
crossing they had been attacked by In
dams. The wagon broke down there,
and there the pioneer made his defense
and fired his last shot. That he was
game we needed 40 other proof b
that visible to our eyes.
The family had consisted of five per-
sons. and there they lay. hacked, cut.
shot. and a shocking spectacle under
that bright sun and birds singing
around us. 1t was a horrible heap
which we surrounded, and for a min
ute no one spoke. Then the astonish-
ment and horror of the men brought
forth deep and angry EXPLANATIONS.
and amid the rumpuS Uncle Ben Tur-
mar cttlIDp1V ro1lol ont.
"Stand ~back-stand back, Here's a
live young un!"
There was for a fact. Half hidden
under the torn and blood stained gar
ments of its dead mother was a boy
about two years old. What could we
do with him?
We had no kisses, no pet words, no
dainties nor little clothes. We looked
from the baby to each other and
scratched our heads, and no man knew
what another man thought until finally
Uncle Ben called out:
Boys. it's a token of good luck. II
this here what dye call it don't bring
US a rich find then we've all forgot u
homes and wives and children"
That's what we were all waiting for.
Up went our hats. cheers made the
rocks echo, and the little fodder was
one of us-one of forty-two.
When we were ready to go he stood
in the circle, screaming out as we
coaxed him in turn, but when old Ben
finally advanced the young cub held up
his arms and nestled against his Shout
der as if he had found his own r
father. / believe the rest of us were
a bit Jealous. but we were also help
less. Ben had q kind, fatherly face, a
quiet voice, and the boy had only to
look into his eyes to trust him.
As to the luck, the old man was
right. Four miles farther down the
trail the boy pointed to some flowers
growing off to the right, and right
there we halted and founded what was
known for years as Lost Boy Diggings.
1t was the richest spot for fifty miles
around. and all on account Of Little
Forty-two," as we called the %youngster.
AS to the boy himself, he took to old
Den III SuCn d way LLd6 LhCy SOdio
not be separated.
If Ben wanted a kiss he got a dozen,
and all the gold in California wouldn't
have bribed the boy off his knee. At
night his arm was the child's pillow.
and the slightest move of the young
ster brought the old mans eyes open.
You might have expected that Little
Forty-two'' would die on our hands,
living as we did, but he never had a
moments sickness. Old Ben had a
way of preparing nourishing dishes
out of our coarse provisions, and from
the clothing found with the wagon
he was kept comfortably clad. Old
Ben was no dressmaker. and the boy
would have looked queerly dressed In
the States, but as long as he was COM
Portable we didn't care for looks.
Little Forty-two' had been with us
thirteen months and was to our figur-
ing a little Owe three years old when
some of the men who had made their
stakes announced their intention of
going home. Then the question arose,
NuOSe UOy IL our Dcy IL WIS Il
stumper, Each man felt that he own
ed IA share in the little chap, and each
man would have been glad to take him
home. We argued and discussed with
out avail, and old Uncle Ben sat there
saying never q word. but his face was
as white as chalk. Little Forty-two"
belonged t. the old nan in every sense,
but / believe there would have been
some trouble If fate hadn't come stalk
ing up the rocky trail and halted at
our diggings.
This was the way of it: Some were
packing up and some using the pick
and bar, and down near the creek
powder was being used to blast the
ledge. 1t was about 10 o'clock in the
morning, and a blast had been pre-
pared and the fuse lighted when from
u retreat, full ten rods away. we
suddenly saw Little Forty-two" turn
the thicket and run straight for the
blast. He was laughing and shout
ing, having been playing tag" with
Uncle Ben. We sprang up and shouted
and screamed. and the boy halted with
in ten feet of the blast and waved his