Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1914-06-09

canvass of every cabin in the county
failed of finding single coin.
For Mr.. Wadsworth 1t was serious
dilemma. He knew the letter was to
him an important business communica
ton. He must have 1t. But how get
1T? For some days he puzzled and
worried over the problem, until at last
came along a rude financier, Jake
Bowman by name, with solution. He
offered to take his pack of hounds and
go with Wadsworth on coon hunt!
Through the cornflelds and woods
the pair prowled for three days with
the dogs, without success. But on the
fourth day they scored-with five fine
pelts!
Wadsworth "pegged out" the hides
for few days until they were properly
dried, then he walked ninety miles
through the wilderness to Detl oft,
which was a small French trading post
in those days, where he found market
for his five pelts.
They brought him sixty-seven cents,
and their conversion into coin had cost
him a round trip Of one hundred and
eighty miles. Nevertheless, he was
able to return with the funds needed to
get his letter.
OF boyhood l had none, of the care
less, rollicky, happy sort that goes to
make up the dearest treasured memo
ries Of most men; no schools, no play
little of even the rudest comforts, Of
ten actually ahunger. Dreary, wretch
ed days were those, and horrid were
the nights: no light but the flicker OF
the fireplace, and that dulled, almost
obscured, by the cloud of anxiety and
care that ever shrouded our little cab
in in oppressive gloom and duQed all
faces into impassive, brooding masks.
Eight years I there worked as boy
and youth, four years at twenty-five
cents per day, four at fifty cents per
daylight years virtually for nothing
Shaving in the logging camps, doing
a mans work by day and all the camp
chores by night. Still it was life that
turned out steel-thewed stalwarts, and
it was for that, and that alone, feel
indebted to Michigan.
And yet, perhaps, l should not make
my indictment of the state in general
and of old Ionia county in particular
so sweeping, for there to be sure. liv.
ing only two miles above US IN the
sugar bush, was Bessie McVicker, the
only ever-happy, merry-faced, mis-
chievous lass in all that forest side.
Blue eyed, rudy as cranberry. 1.-the
as a panther, with such thick masses
of blond hair cloaking her shoulders
she never on the coolest day seemed
to mind the thinness Of her rent and
threadbare frocks.
She was about my own age. From
my first glimpse of her, it was a Joy
to me to see her face; her smiling
mouth and devilment-lighted eyes
shone among the grim, broodinS
gloomy faces Of the neighborhood like
a burst of sun rays through a darkly
ominous pail of cloud.
Seldom 1t was we met-lachna
leisure for social gatherings OF any
sort of either the old or the young
Occasionally met her on her way to
the Saranac store or on some forest
path, always to my discomforture, not
withstanding the happiness 1t gave me
to see her. For it was never q kind
word she gave me; always, instead, a
raw jest or jeer at my dress or awk
wardness.
Indifferently as she treated me, al
most cruelty, in fact, I suspect was
near to madly loving Bessie McVtckeI
until one day l surprised her hanging
for half an hour intent, eager eyed
herself silent, on the yarns of young
Tom Harper, a handsome but evil-na'
tured and drunken lumberman, who
was telling her of the wonders of the
growing settlements and of his adven
lures on his last log drive.
The half hour watched them
through the sheltering leaves / hid be-
hind, filled me with such jealousy and
bitterness as to leave me Ill prepared
for her disdain Of me at our next
meeting, when she bounded out Of the
bush into a camp where was at work
"sugaring off, boiling maple sap into
sugar.
Near beside the fire and kettles we
had a great trough filled to the brim
with sap, and down upon the edge OF
this troubh sat Miss Bessie, leaned
across it, bracing herself with one
hand resting upon it's further side.
She screamed with laughter when
an unlucky slip In the slush sent me
sprawling and plunged my finger tips
momentarily among the live Goals OF
the fire.
This was bad enough: but when
only a moment later, by some evil
chance, Tom Harper happened into the
camp just as Bessie had resumed jeer
ing ME, and began showering me with
icy sap, tossed out Of one Of ou1