The Lakeland evening telegram. (Lakeland, Fla.) 1911-1922, 1915-03-16

feathered occupant as neglected-looK'
ing and cherries as its owners.
"Oh, papa!" spoke the little girl III
pleading, fearful tones, don't let them
sell poor dear Dickie!" :.
Robert Gregory moved to the side OF
the old man.
Don't / know your" he spoke
quickly. 49,,
"You put me on watch duty nights,
sir" was the response. but the oio
rheumatics laid me up. We came
from the Dexter coal district wnen
they shut down, and had no money.
What you so kindly allowed me 70
earn here Is all gone. and they're TAX
ing our poor belongings for rent"
"TT stop that" spoke Gregory firm
ly. Don't cry, little one. You shant
lose your pet bird"
Robert Gregory was as good as MS
word. Inside of five minutes the claim
upon which the sale was based was
paid out OF his own pocket. the goods
restored to the house, and he was
more than embarrassed at the over
whelming gratitude Of his poor pen
sioners.
The little child had the bird out OF
its cage and was caressing it as II 1t
were q petted child.
you don't know about Dickie," ex'
planned the old man. Hes hero. he
is. and an expert. Down at the Dexter
mines twice we sent him into the
shafts, and twice he came out, stag
gered and nearly gone. We knew
what that meant, sir-fre damp"
A quick idea came to the mind OF
Gregory. He had read once of these
trained mine birds. For some time he
piled the old man with questions re-
garding the capabilities of the feath. |
cred pet.
Can he do it," exclaimed the old !
man-"could he tell how things are i
in the old shaft Seven? Why, sir. I'll /
be glad to try the experiment"
Two hours later a dozen curious
miners watched a proceeding unique
and mystifying to their point of view.
Old John Dean had not boosted vain
ly Of Dickie and his clever abilities. |
The little bird stood on mis- finger, !
head on one side, watching him as If
listening to an understood mandate
as board was pulled away from the
shaft top.
Then, with a bright cheep Dickie
plunged straight down into the gloom
and darkness.
Five minutes, ten minutes-no token
Of the return of the messenger. Fiji.
teen minutes! John Dean looked
grave and anxious. |
Then a great wave Of excitement
passed over the gathered throng AZ
there fluttered into view a wavering
splash Of yellow-Dickie.
The bird barely got through tho
aperture. Its head dropped, its wings
folded. 1t sank, helpless lump, to
The ground. Its eyes moved once or
twice, 1t Strengthened out rigid.
ITS death down there" spoke John
Dean in a hoarse suppressed tone.
Poor Dickie-a hero to the last!"
At daybreak the next morning the
warning Of the expert little pet bore
lruit. Old Shaft Seven was belching
'ut smoke, the fire damp had begun
ts dread work.
III we had pierced that wall, where
would the new levels be now" was
he pertinent question Robert Gregory
yrayely put to Mr.. Dale.
And the latter bowed his head put
'ut . trembling hand, and in his heart
was . great thankfulness.
In manner utilitar1an, too, the fire
lamp cleared the way to safe progress
n the new work.
Robert Gregory did not lose his
prestige with his employer. Nor did
lie lose the peerless Beatrice.
As to the mine owner, he surpassed
'ven Gregory is providing the Dean
amily a new home with permanent
comforts.
Little Nellie Dean mourned the loss
u her beloved pet. There was that
which turned her sorrow into proud.
'eaceful calm, however. II
Near the mouth of old shaft Seven
modest granite block of stone was
placed, bearing the simple and touch
ng inscription: Sacred to the Mem.