The Richfield recorder. (Richfield, Idaho) 1909-1931, 1915-03-11
shore He was pale and gaspins


for breath.
You saved mel" cried Burnham'
gratefully, but you"
Il am hurt internally, seriously"
painted the other painfully Quick
listen! my side struck rock when 1
jumped, but am glad saved you"
But, man" but just here the
stranger closed his eyes and lay nerve
less. Only once he revived.
Il am dying" he breathed feebly;
Promise me-my brothers widow
in the satchel," and passed away,
grasping Burnham's hand in a convul-
sive clutch.
The next day Burnham started for a.
distant city. He carried with him the
satchel belonging to the man who
had saved his life. A change had
come over him. The first strong i'm,
preston of his new life was the sight
of the peaceful farm life. 1t fingered
like picture. The second was graft
tude for the man who had given up
his life to save his own.
His thought ran rapidly. Sud-
denly, thrillingly this outcast found
his existence directed into new chan
nels. He had seen that his rescuer
was buried. Then he had opened the
satchel and inspected its contents.
From that moment Mark Burnham be-
came Eli Walters.
For he felt it sacred trust to take
60 af fo q
latter had lain it down. In the satchel
he found a little hoard of about two
hundred dollars. There were also let
tiers and papers. An appeal had
reached Walters from his brothers
widow, whom he had never seen. He
had decided to go to her, relieve her
necessities and devote his years to
care for her and her little family.
Burnham found the Walters family
destitute, indeed. He had assumed
the identity of a relative they had
never seen and was accepted as the
real Uncle Eli. That hard heart of
his softened like wax as he employed
the 5000 to bring cheer and comfort
where there had been despair and suf-
fering. The widow was sickly and al.
most an invalid. There were five lit
tie children. Within a week the chill
dren were grouping about him as
though he were real father, and the
widow was filed with gratitude and
hope.
For the first time, one day, Burnham
saw Ida Worth. She had been i'll for
month and called while he was in
the house. From the first, her earnest,
patient face attracted him. He learned
that she had practically supported the
widow and her family for several
months, but illness had come and she
was now as poor as themselves. She
said the doctor had prescribed rest
country air. but that was beyond
her attainment.
I'm going away for day or two"
Burnham told Mrs. Walters that eve
ming. my dream-I will make it
truel" he pledged himself fervently.
Two weeks later Burnham conveyed
the Walters family and Miss Worth
to their new home, lovely country
cottage. He had used his own money
to give to the widow a surety of pro-
vision for the rest of her life.
Il am going away" he said to Ida
a week later.
He noted that she changed color
and her lips futtered, and he won
dered why.
Il must tell you what the others
need not know" he continued sadly.
Il am not the uncle OF those children
and he told her all.
Then you are even a nobler man
than l thought" burst forth Ida i'm
petuously
Il am an ex-convict," and the rest
Of the wretched story came out.
You have nobly redeemed your
self" breathed Ida. "Oh, do not go
away, they need you. We love you'll"
Her hands had now rested in his
own. He looked into her eyes, fear
somely, and then with rare thrill.
She swayed towards him, and he knew
that his fond dream had come true.
Copyright, 1914 by w. G. Chapman.)