The Blackfoot optimist. [volume] (Blackfoot, Idaho) 1907-1918, 1915-01-07
allowin' ter git me eff Purvy dies, but

|
we're watchin' ye."
Jim Asberry's face darkened, but he
said nothing. There was nothing to
say. He was discovered in the enc
my's country and must accept the
enemy's terms.
This hyar time I lets We go back
said Samson, "fer the reason tibet I'm
tryin' like all HI ter keep this truce.
But We must stay on yore side or
else ride the roads open. How is
Purvy terday?"
Hes mighty porely," replied the
other in sullen voice.
"All right Thets another reason
why hit hain't healthy fer We over
hyar."
The spy turned and made his way
over the mountain.
oh him!" muttered Samson,
his face twitching. as the other was
lost in the underground. Some day
I'm a-goin' ter git him."
| Tamarack Spicer did not at once
reappear, and when one of the Souths
met another in the road the customary
dialogue would be: "Heered anything
| Of Tamarack?" mo, hev you?"
| mo, nary word"
| AS Lescott wandered through the
| hills, his unhurt right hand began cry
ing out for action and brush to
nurse. AS he watched, day after day,
the unwilling of the monumental hills
and the transitions from hazy, wrath
| like whispers of hues to strong flaring
riot Of color, this fret Of restlessness
became actual pain. He was wasting
wonderful opportunity and the crea.
tive instinct in him was clamoring
One morning, when he came out Just
after sunrise to the tin wash basin
at the well, the desire to paint was ON
him with compelling force. The hills
ended near their bases like things Bit
ten of. Beyond lay limitless stream-
ers of mist, but, while he stood at gaze!
the filmy veil began to lift and float
higher. Trees and mountains grew
taller. The sun. which showed first
as ghost-like disk of polished alumni
mum, struggled through orange and
vermilion into a sphere of living
fame. Lescott heard a voice at his
side.
when does We low ter commence
paintin'?"
1t was Samson. For answer the
artist, with his unhurt hand. impa-
tiently tapped his bandaged wrist
Eye still got yore right hand. hain't
ye" demanded the boy. The other
laughed. 1t was 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 q
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?"
"Yes." 81
"Welr'-the boy spoke diffldently
but with nthusiasm-"between the
two of US we've got three hands. I
reckon we kin larn me how ter do
them other things fer ye."
Lescott's surprise showed in his
face and the lad swept eagerly on
"Mebby hit haint none of my BUSH
ness, but, all day yestiddy an the
day befo', l was studyin' bout this
here thing, an l hustled up an got
tibet corn welded an now I'm through.
Ell kin help We out l thought meb-
by" He paused and looked appeal
ingly at the artist.
Leecott whistled and then his face
lighted into contentment.
To-day, Samson" he announced.
"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 a 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 off with
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
canvas, which wss growing from a
blank to mirror of vistas-and the
boys pupils became deeply hungry.
The day of painting was followed
by others like it. The disabling of
Lescott's left hand made the constant
companionship of the boy a matter
that needed no explanation or apology,
though not matter of approval to his
uncle.
Another week had passed without
the temperance of Tamarack Spicer-
One afternoon Lescott and Samson
were alone on a cliff-protected shelf,
and the painter had just blocked in
n rhnU = k:.-x A.