The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1914-10-22
PART H..
HETHER Mr.. Oakhurst had
cached his cards with the
whisky as something debar.

uA cached his cards with the
1" whisky as something debar.
w red the free access Of the COM
munity l cannot say. 1t was GER
tain that, in Mother Symptoms words,
he didn't say cards once" during that
evening. Happy the time was beguiIed
by an accordion produced somewhat
ostentatiously by Tom Simson from
his pack. Notwithstanding some diff
culties attending the manipulation Of
this instrument, Piney Woods man.
aged to pluck several reluctant mel0-
dies from its keys, to the accompani-
ment Of the Innocent on a pair of bone
castanets. But the browning festivity
of the evening was reached in rude
camp meeting hymn, which the lovers,
Joining hands. sang with great earnest
ness and vociferation. fear that
certain defiant tone and Covenanter's
swing to its chorus, rather than any
devotional quality, caused it speedily
to infect the others, who at last Joined
in the refrain:
I'm proud to live in the service Of the
Lord,
And I'm bound to die in his army.
The pines rocked, the storm eddied
and whirled above the miserable group
and the flames of their altar leaped
heavenward, as If in token of the VOW.
At midnight the storm abated, the
rolling clouds parted and the stars
glittered keenly above the sleeping
camp. Mr.. Oakhurst, whose profess
sional habits had enabled him to live
on the smallest possible amount of
sleep, in dividing the watch with Tom
Simson, somehow managed to take
upon himself the greater part of that
duty. He excused himself to the In
nocent by saying that he had "often
been a week without Sleep" Doing
what?' asked Tom. "Pokerr' replied
Oakhurst sententiously. when a man
gets a streak of luck-nigger luck-he
don't get tired. The luck gives in first.
Luck" continued the gambler reflec-
lively. SIS mighty queer thing. All
you know about it for certain is that
it's bound to change. And it's finding
out when it's going to change that
makes you. We've had streak of
bad luck since we left Poker Flat-you
come along and, slap, you get into it
too. II you can hold your cards right
along you're all right. For" added
the gambler, with cheerful irrelevance,
.T'm proud to live In the service of the
Lord
And I'm bound to die in his army
The third day came, and the sun,
looking through the white curtained
valley, saw the outcasts divide their
slowly decreasing store of provisions
for the morning meal. 1t was one OF
the peculiarities Of that mountain eli
mate that its rays diffused kindly
warmth over the wintry landscape, as
II in regretful commiseration of the
past. But it revealed drift on drift
of snow piled high around the hut-a
hopeless, uncharted, trackless sea of
white lying below the rocky shores
to which the castaways still chung.
Through the marvelously clear air the
smoke of the pastoral village of Poker
Flat rose miles away. Mother Shipton
saw 1t and from a remote pinnacle Of
her rocky fastness hurled in that direc
ton final malediction. 1t was her
last vituperative attempt, and perhaps
for that reason was invested with q
certain degree Of sublimity. 1t did her
good, she privately Informed the
Duchess. 'Just you go out there and
cuss and see" She then set herself to
the task of amusing 1.-THE child" as
she and the Duchess were pleased to
call Piney. Piney was no chicken. but
It was soothing and original theory
of the pair thus to account for the fact
that she didn't swear and wasn't i'm
proper.
When night crept up again through
the gorges the reedy notes Of the ac-
Gordon rose and fell In fitful spasms
and long drawn gasps by the Pickering
But music failed to fill en-
tirely the aching void left by INSULT
cient food, and new diversion was
proposed by Piney-story telling. Mel
Their Mr.. Oakhurst nor his female COM
panions caring to relate their personal
experiences, this plan would have FAIL
ed, too, but for the Innocent Some
months before he had CHANGED upon
stray copy of Mr.. Pope's ingenious
translation Of the "Iliad." He now
proposed to narrate the principal incl
dents of that poem-having thoroughly
mastered the argument and fairly Tor
gotten the words-in the current YER
nacular of Sandy Bar. And so for the
rest of that night the Homeric demi-
gods again walked the earth. Trojan
bully and willy Greek wrestled In the
winds, and the great pines In the can
yon seemed to bow to the wrath OF the
son of Peleus. Mr.. Oakhurst listened
with quiet satisfaction. Most especial
" was he interested In the fate OF
sh-heels." as the Innocent persisted
in denominating the "swift rooted
Achilles"
So with small food and much OF no
mer and the accordion a week passed
over the heads Of the outcasts. Inc