The Emmett index. [volume] (Emmett, Idaho) 1893-1925, 1915-01-28
can save them. You will know now to
play the game"

ner our timber, ner our coal, With0u
we wants ter sell hit. reckon eff the,
tries tibet, guns will come in handy
Things has stood mere like they is now
fer hundred years. | reckon we XII
keep EN- that-away fer a spell longer.
But it was evident that Samson wal
arguing against his own belief; 3 that hi
was trying to bolster up his resolu
ton and impeached loyalty, and tina
at heart he was sick tc be up and go
ing to a world which did not despise
dedication" After little, he waved
his hand vaguely toward down be
low"
EFF went down thar" he questioned
suddenly and irreleyantly, would
hev' ter cut my ha'r?"
my dear boy" laughed Lescott,
can introduce you in New York studios
to many distinguished gentlemen who
would feel that their heads had been
shorn if they let their locks get as
short as yours. In New York, you
might stroll along Broadway CARRIED 10
! turban and burnouse without great
1 ly exciting anybody. / think my own
hair is as long as yours"
Because" doggedly declared the
mountaineer, 81 wouldn't allow nobody
ter make me cut my ha'r."
"Why?" questioned Lescott, amused
at the stubborn infection.
81 don't hardly know why" He
OBJ urifh oil q
though defying criticism: Sally likes
hit that-away-an' | won't let nobody
dictate ter me, that's ALL"
The leaven was working, and one
night Samson announced to his uncle
from the doorstep that he was study
in erbout goin' away fer spell, an
seem the world"
The old man laid down his pipe. He
cast a reproachful glance at the
painter, which said clearly, though
without words:
81 have opened my home to you and
offered you what I had, yet in my old
age you take away my mainstay."
81 lowed you was a-studyin' erbout
thet, Samson" he said, at last. I've
done Their best fer We l knowed. !
kinder lowed tibet from now on ye'd DO
the same fer me. I'm gittin' along in
years right smart >"
Uncle Spicer," interrupted the boy,
81 reckon We knows thet any time ye
needed me I'd come back"
The old mans face hardened.
EFF ye goes" he said, almost sharp
ly, 4 won't never send fer ye. ANY
time ye ever wants ter come back, We
knows Their way. Thar'll be room an
victuaIs fer We hyar."
81 reckon l mout be a heap more
useful eff knowed more"
'I've heerd fellers say that afore.
Hit hain't never turned out tibet way
with them what has left the mount
ings. Mebby they gets more useful,
but they don't git useful ter us. Either
they don't come back at all, or mebby
they comes back full of newfangled no
tians-an' ashamed of theiI kinfolks.
Thet's the way, I've noticed, hit gen.
ally turns out"
Samson scorned to deny that such
might be the case with him, and was
silent. After time, the old man went
on again in a weary voice, as he bent
down to loosen his brogans and kick
them noisily off on to the floor:
THE Souths hev dons looked to We
a good deal, Samson. They lowed they
could depend on We. Ye hain't quite
twenty-one yet, an reckon l could
refuse ter let We sell yer prop'ty. But
thar hain't no use tryin' ter hold
Teller when he wants ter quit. Ye
don't low ter go right away, do ye?"
Il hain't plumb made up my mind
ter go at all, said the boy, shame
facediy. But, eff l does go, | hain't
a-goin yit. hain't spoke ter nobody
but you about hit yit"
Lescott felt reluctant to meet his
hosts eyes at breakfast the next morn
ing, dreading their reproach, but, if
Spicer South harbored resentment, he
meant to conceal it, after the steie's
code. There was no hint OF constraint
in his cordially. Lescott felt, however,
that in Samson's mind was working
the leaven of that unspoken aceusa-
ton OF disloyalty. He resolved to
make final play, and seek to enlist
Sally in his cause. If Sally's hero-wor-
ship could be made to take the form of
ambition for Samson, she might be
brought to relinquish him for a time,
and urge his going that he might re-
turn strengthened. He went down to
the creek at the hour when he knew
Sally would be making her way thither
with her milk pail, and intercepted her
coming.
As she approached, she was singing.
and the man watched her from the dis
lance. He was a landscape painter and |
not master of genre or portrait. Yet,
he wished that he might, before going,
paint Sally.
Miss Sally" he began, I've discoy-
cred something about Samson"
Her blue eyes flashed ominously.
"Ye can't tell me nothin' bout Sam
son." she declared, "withouten hits
somethin nice"
Its something very nice" the man
her.
Then, ye needn't tell me, because |
already knows hit" came her prompt I