Five Mile Beach weekly journal., 1915-11-19

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What should he do?
Here was his employer, this East
erner who was going through the or.
deal by fire to win his right to live
and fight in the wild land, and he was
all but worsted, down and out. His
life was not worth !. copper-that coin
of which the large West takes no mo-
tice-and far on the shores of the
other ocean was that old father of
whom he had told Daily in the quiet
talks at night. It would take quick
work to get Sandry to a doctor and
word should be sent East at once.
On the other hand, If Sandry should
live and the contract had been lost his
fight would be over. Those mort
cages of which he had spoken vaguely
would be foreclosed and the Dfiling-
worth would become a thing of the
past, the East Belt go by the board and
Hampden would be supreme in the
hills.
mo, by heaven, ned want her to go
through dead or alive, an I'll see h5r
therel" was Daily's ultimatum as he
rose from the log In the pink flare of
sunrise, and could he have known all
that Sandry would lose with that con
tract and the Dillingworth his hatred
Of Hampden would have been deeper
still, for Sandry was his friend.
He went back to the huddled Indians
and the silent figure on it's blankets.
"Memmiloo," he said decisively,
make quick a pole sling. You an
big Bill an Multoowah an Jim Pine
tree will take Sandry back to camp.
Go first to Toledo an get Doc Hooker
have him do what he can there an
go along to camp. Tell him to stay
with Sandry day an night till l get
back. Hurry now"
Without a word, the four Indians
picked out by name set about their
appointed task. In less time than a
white man would take to begin they
had laid clean saplings along blankets
edges, warped a short spreader at top
and bottom to hold the poles the width
Of a mans shoulders apart. and the
sling was ready.
Now" said Daily grimly, travel
like hell, boys, but carry him soft, for
he's broke like the ferns when a pine
falls"
Tenderly they lifted the owner of
the Dillingworth and laid him in the
hollow of the blankets.
His foreman cast one look at him as
the Indians swung away on the back
trail and turned his face to the
iammed raft. He studied the problem
from all sides. Then he took his re-
naming Indians, for none of them
we're beyond work from their shaking
up, got off the mooring chains and
snubbed the monster to the shore
pines fore and aft. Then he calmly
prepared to wait the turn of the tide.
She would loose herself.
The damage at the prov was slight.
The lift had come a moment too soon
to hurt the big raft much. Several of
the binding chains at the extreme
head of her had been broken, loosen
ing the ends of the logs which slid
downward and apart, giving her the
appearance of a ragged broom.
Snamishta, like all the coast Indi-
ans, was a good waterman. He Of
Tered to dive for the broken chains
and Daily let him go. In three hours
ne had found all the ends, fastened
10 them hauling lines, which the others
used to bring them up, the breakage
was repaired, and Daily was ready to
mend the broken nose as we'll as he
could. He needed to circle the zoos
ened logs with the chains again, and
ne went about it in a simple amer
There was no getting under the raft
from the front because of the jam
against the shore, even if Snamishta
could have managed the tide and en-
oured the time under water. There
lore it must be done from the other
end.
80 Daily laid the chains across the
spreading nose, attached a long tow
me to the shore ends and dropped
taem into the water. The line was
.nen led to the stern, under the moor
ing chains. around and forward to the
Prov.
he then lay down for a needed rest
untli the sucking green water grew
slower and slower and finally stopped
altogether.
with the first insidious movement of
sne hood tide the groaning and creak-
Jug set up again throughout the giant,
and the foreman was on his feet at
luce as she began, almost impercep-
.up,y' TO back out from the shore. The
unus OF the chains were hauled up,
snpped forward and fastened securely
alter the logs had been coaxed to-
se1ner as much as was possible with
fope n peavey and cant hook.
ny 1ingo!" said Daily, "but that
Was a blast. The son-of-a-gun must
lave Lac a wagonloan o. sticks. An
y was a plant all right. Must've had
some hattries an a trigger wire. But