The Bridgeport evening farmer., 1914-03-23

q
 seen, and at sunset turned up Pinto
 valley on 8 trail so stiff and marrow
 that more than once he elected to get
 off and walk.
 It was II o'clock when he disnount-
 ed before a log cabin and was greeted
 by the baying of two huge deerhounds-
 Then Pat Glendon opened the door, fell
 on his neck and took him in.
 .eI knew ye'd come, Sam, me boy"
 said Pat, the while he nmped about,
 building fiee boiling coffee and fry
 ing bear steak. ''The young un ain't home the night. We was gettin' short of meat, and he went out about sun
 down to pick up deer But I'll say l no more, Wait till ye see him. He'll be home in the morn, and then you can trY him out. There's the gloves. But wait till ye see him.
 ssAs for me I'm finished. Eighty one
 come next January an pretty good for an ex-bruiser. But never wasted me self, Sam, nor kept late hours am burn ed the candle at all ends. had dashed good candle an made the most of it, as you'll grant at lookin' at me And I've taught the same to the young un. What do you think of lad of twenty two that's never had drink in HIS t11e HUT tessEe0 tODflSC0s AAAe~S 2 him.
 ..He's giant, and he's lived natural all his days Wait till he takes you out after deer He'll break your heart traveIin' light, him a-caFryin' the out it and a big buck deer belike. He's child Of the open air an winter nor summer has he slept under a roof. The open for him, as I taught him. ssThe one thing that worries me sis how he'll take to sleepin' in. houses an l how he'll stand the tobacco smoke in. the ring. 'Tis a terrible thing, that l smoke, when you're fighting hard an gaspin' for air. But no more, Sam. me l boy. You're tired an sure should be sIeepin' Wait till you see him, that's all. Wait till you see him.'' But the garrulousness of age was on old Pat and it was long before he per mitted Stubener's eyes to close. .sHe can run deer down with his own legs. that young un," he broke out again. 'Tis the dandy trainin' for the lungs, the hunters life He don't know much of else, though he's
 read a few books at times an poetry
 stuff. He's just plain pure natural, as you'll see when you clap eyes on him.
 He's got the old Irish strong in him. Som 1etimes, theway he moons about, 1 it's thinkin' strong 1 am that he be- i Iieves in the fairies and such like. He's i a nature lover if ever there was one, an he's afeard of cities. He's read l about them. but the biggest he was ever in WAS Deer Lick He misliked the
 many people, and his report was that 1 they'd stand weedin out That was
 two years agone-the first and the last time he's seen locomotive and q train 1 of cars.
 am. brfngin' him up a natural. It's given him wind ss1d stamina and the strength of wild bulls. No city grown Pin willin' to grant that Jeffries at his best could 'a worried the young un I bit. but only a bit. The young un could "a broke him like straw An he don't look it. That's the everlasting l wonder of it. He's only a fine seem l ing young husky; but it's the quality I till ye see him, that's all,
 "A strange liking the boy has for posies, an little meadows, a bit of pine I OF the sun O morns from the top of old Baldy An he has a hankerin' for the
 drawin' O pitchers of things. an of l spouting about Iucifer or night from the poetry books he got from the red
 headed school teacher.
 But tis only his youngness, He'll
 settle down to the game once we get 1 him staFted, but watch out for
 grouches when it first comes to 1ivin'
 in a city for him.