The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1915-01-21

Ing Oul IOI dCllOu anu a UIubn
: nurse. AS he watched. day after da.
}. the dwelling Of the monumental hill
! and the transitions from hazy, wrath
: like whispers OF hues to strong, farm
8 riot of color. this fret Of restlessne s
became actual pain. He was wastin
: wonderful opportunity and the cres
tive instinct in him was clamoring.
: One morning, when he came out JUS
J after sunrise to the tin wash bash
at the well, the desire to paint was OF
him with compelling force. The hill
ended near their bases like things bit
ten on Beyond lay limitless stream
ers OF mist. but, while he stood at gaze
the filmy veil began to lift and noat
higher. Trees and mountains grew
taller. The sun. which showed frs,
as ghost-like disk of polished alumi
( mum, struggled through orange and
vermilion into q sphere OF living
flame. Lescott heard voice at his
side.
when docs ye low ter commence
paintin'?"
II was Samson. For answer the
artist, with his unhurt hand. impa-
tiently tapped his bandaged wrist.
"Ye still got yore right hand, hain't
ye" demanded the boy. The other
laughed. 1t was a typical question. So
long as one had the trigger finger left
one should not admit disqualification.
you see, Samson" he explained
this isn't precisely like handling
gun. One must hold the palette; mix
the colors; wipe the brushes and do
half dozen equally necessary things.
1t requires at least two perfectly good
hands. Many people don't find two
enough"
but hit only takes one ter do the
paintin', don't hit?"
Eyes"
"Welr-the boy spoke diffidently
but with thusiasm-"between the
two of US we've got three hands. l
reckon ye kin larn me how ter do
them other things fer ye."
Lescotts surprise showed In his
face and the lad swept eagerly on.
"Mebby hit hain't none of my busi-
ness, but, all day yestiddy an the
day befo', | was studyin bout this
here thing, an ] hustled up an got
tibet corn weeded an now I'm through.
Eff | kin help ye out l thought meb-
by" He paused and looked appeal
ingly at the artist.
Leecott whistled and then his face
lighted into contentment.
aTodov Copc0n he oppoupoad
"Lescott, South and Company get
busy"
1t was the first time he had seen
Samson smile, and. although the ex-
preston was one of sheer delight, IN
herent somberness loaned it touch
of the wistful.
When, an hour later, the two set |
out, the mountain boy carried the par
aphernalia and the old man standing
at the door watched them IF with a
half-quizzical, half-disapproving glance.
AS the boy, with remarkable apti-
tude. learned how to adjust the easel
and arrange the paraphernalia, Lescott
sat drinking in through thirsty eyes
the stretch of landscape he had deter
mined to paint.
Then, while he painted, the boy held
the palette, his eyes riveted on the
which YVES growing from a
blank to a mirror of vistas-and the
boys pupils became deeply hungry.
The day OF painting was followed
by others like 1t. The disabling of
Lescott's left hand made the constant
companionship OF the boy a matter
hat needed no explanation or apology,
.hough not matter OF approval to his
incle.
Another week had passed without
he temperance OF Tamarack Spicer.
One afternoon Lescott and Samson
we're alone on q cliff-protected shelf,
md the painter had just blocked in
With umber and neutral tint the crude
'ketch of his next picture.
The two men had lost an hour
luddled under canopy beneath the
of sudden storm. They
lad silently watched titanic battalions
# thunder clouds riding the skies in
,usty puffs OF gale and raking the
'arth with lightning and hail and
vater
MY Godl" exclaimed the mountain
10Y abruptly I'D give anything eff
could paint that"
Lescott rose smilingly from his seat
efore the easel and surrendered his
alette and sheaf of brushes.
TRY It," he invited.
For moment Samson stood hest
ant and overcome with diffidence;
hen, with set lips, he took his place
nd experimentally fitted his fingers
bout the brush, as he had seen Les
OFT do. He asked no advice He
lerely gazed for while. and then,
ipping brush and experimenting for
is color, went to sweeping in his pri-
larry tones. Samson. even though he
'as hopelessly daubing, and knew 1t,
'as sincere, and the painter at his
lbow caught his breath and looked on
nth the absorption Of prophet, who,
stening to childish prattle, yet recog-
ICES the gift Of prophecy.
"Thet's the way hit looks ter me-"
be boy said, simply.
That's the way it is commended