Bisbee daily review., 1914-01-01
CHAPTER Ii.
The Trevor Aecldeat,


 the habit continued, bat as the let te :, could got be sent hv mail. and to pest he'~ n the stove 2 ened to ,., sge UT o'n,,ant lless. &Ee: wesNl .,. :. ID his sgee'r wacsts i Dv4. tse.. r a fsSvp;
 Thefes been good money in this here packing contract. and the wad in my belt-pouch has been growing til. Doctor McGee suspecks a tumor. He thinks I'll let him operate, and sure enough that would reduce the swell ing.
 Once a week take my little pack outfit up to the Skyline claim for load of peacock copper. It runs three hundred dollars to the ton in horn silver. and looks more like jewels than mineral. Iron Dale's cook, Mrs. Jub- bin. runs to more species of pies and cake than even Hundred Mile house. and after dinner get rim.fire cigar which pops like a cracker. while I sit in front of the scenery and taste the breath of the snow mountains, Then I load the ponies, collects Mick out of the cook house, which he's partial to for bones, Iron slings me the mail. pouch, and I hits the trail. I aim to make good bush grass in the yellow pines by dusk, and the second day brings me down to Browns Ferry, three miles short of my home. From the ferry there's a good road in win ter to Hundred Mile House, so l tote the cargoes over there by sleigh. There my contract ends, because Tear full George takes on with his string team down to the railroad. I'd have that contract, too, only Fearful Is q low-lived sort of a person. which can feed for dollar week, whereas when l get down to the railroad I'm more expensive.
 Your affectionate son, JESSE. Rain-storm coming.
 P. S.-Yes, it's a good life, and 1 don't envy no man. Still 1t made me sort of thoughtful last time as l swung along with that Jones mare smuggling at my wrist, little Mick snapping rear heels astern, and the sun just scorch- | ing down among the pines. Women Is ! infreQuent, and spite of all my expe- riences with the late Mrs. Smith most fortunate deceased. life ain't all complete without a mate. It ain't no harm to any woman, mother. If just varies on my trail to survey the sur rounding stock.
 Mrs. Jubbin passes herself off for widow. and all the boys at the mine take notice that she can cook. Apart from that. she's homely as barb-wire fence. and Bubbly Jock, her husband, ain't deceased to any great extent, be- ing due to finish his sentence along in October, and handy besides with a rife.
 Then of the three young ladies at Eighty Mile. Sally is a sound proposal tion. but numerouely engaged to the stage drivers and teamsters along the Cariboo Road. Miss With. the school. ma'am, keeps a widow mother with tongue and teeth, so them as smells the bait is ware of the trap. That's
 why Miss With stays single. The other girl is no-account young per son. Not that I'm the sort to shy al
 
 quite persistent with sound morals
 but l hold that person who
 scratches herself at meals ain't never !, quite the lady. She should do it pri ] yate.
 There's the Widow O'Flynn on the
 trail to Hundred Mile,-she's harsh with wooden limb. Besides she ] wants to talk old times in Abilene. } don't.
 . While I've mostly kep' away from the married ladies, and said deliver
 us from temptation" regular every night, there was no harm as l came along down, in being sorry for Mrs
 Trevor. Women are reckoned might, cute at reading men, but I've noticed when I've struck the complete polecat that he's usually married So long al woman keeps her head she's wisel than a man, but when she gets rattlet she's a sure fool. She'll keep he head with the common run of men but when she strikes the allroun' stinker, like horse runs into a fire ' she ups and marries him. Anyway
 Mrs. Trevor had got there. Said to be Tuesday
 5 Trip before last was the first tim
 l seen this lady. Happens Jones reck ' oned shed been appointed inspecto ' of snakes. so I'd had to lay off at tn 5 spring. and Mrs. Trevor comes alon 1, to get shut of her trouble. She's hur :. gry; she ain't had anything but he prize hawg to speak to for weeks. an she's as curious as Mother Eve any
 way.
 ' Surely my meats transparent b the way her voice struck throug among my bones. If angels spea
 like her I'd die to hear. She told m nothin'. not one word about tn trouble that's killing her. but he ' voice made me want to cry. If you [, spoke like that when was your puI ,' , py, you'd a had no need of that ol slipper mother.
 Cause l couldn't tear him ava !" from the beef bones, I'd left Mick | at the Skyline. or I'd asst that lad '' to accept my dog. You see. he'd bit
 Trevor albright, wharas I has to die " myself. and my menu Is sort of con plete. Still by the time she staye in camp. my talk may have done som