Harrisburg telegraph. [volume] (Harrisburg, Pa.) 1879-1948, 1917-02-23

who genuinely despised money. l real
ly think we were hurried to our deci-
sion by this unexpected reasonable
ness on his part. At any rate, we do
cided definitely to go.
There were nine of us-Bagsby,
Yank, Johnny Fairfax, myself, Don
Gaspar, Vasquez. McNally, Buck Bar
ry and Missouri Jones.
Bagsby got us up long before day
light. The air was chilly, in contrast
to the terrific heat to be expected
later in the day, so we fastened to
finish our packing and ut dawn were
off.
Until about 3 o'clock we journeyed
through 4 complete solitude: then we
came upon some men digging In n dry
wash. They had piled up a great heap
of dirt from hole. We stopped and
talked to them and discovered that
they were working what they called
dry diggings." The pay dirt they ex-
cavated from wherever they found it,
piled 1t in convenient place and there
left it until the rains should permit its
washing. They claimed their dirt
would prove to be very rich, but
thought myself that they were labor
ing in great faith. Also we learned
what Bagsby had known right along.
but which he had not bothered to tell
us-that we were now about to cross
the main overland trail
We stopped that night near the road
and at a wayside inn or roadhouse OF
logs kept by a most interesting man.
He served us an excellent meal, in
cluding real eggs, and afterward join
ed us around the fire. He was an
Italian, short, strongly built. with close
curly hair, a rollicking, good natured
face, and with tiny gold rings in his
ears. Johnny and he did most of the
talking, while we listened. No part of
the civilized world seemed to have
been unvisited by this pair, Johnny
mentioned Paris. Our host added an
intimate detail as to some little street.
London appeared to be known to them
from one end to the other; Berlin, Ed
inburgh, ST. Petersburg even, and q
host OF other little fellows whose
names l never knew before and cannot
remember now. They .swapped remi-
niscences of the streets, the restau-
rants and the walters and proprietors
thereof; the alleys and byways, the
parks and little places. l knew in a
general way that Johnny had done the
grand tour. but the Italian with his
gold earrings and his strong, brown,
good humored peasant face puzzled me
completely. How came he to be so
travelled, so intimately travelled? He
was no sailor. That l soon deter
mined.
The two of them became thoroughly
interested, but after time the native
courtesy of the italian asserted itself.
He evidently thought we might feel
left out of it, though 1 think the 9th
ers were, like myself quite fascinated.
"You lika music?" he smiled at us
engagingly. Il getta my Italian fd-
die? No?"
lie arose at our eager assent, pushed
aside blanket that screened off one
end of the log cabin and produced his
italian fiddle"-a hand organ.
At once the solution of the wide
wandering among the many cities, the
intimate knowledge of streets and of
public places burst upon my compre-
hension. l could see our host looking
upward, his strong white teeth fash
ing in an ingratlating, fascinating
smile, his right arm revolving with the
crank of his organ, his little brown
monkey with the red coat and the anx-
ious face clambering-
Next morning we crossed the over
land trail and plunged into a country
of pines, of high hills, of deep canyons
and bold, rocky ridges. The open
spaces we had left behind and the
great heats. Water flowed in almost
every ravine, and along its courses
grew green grass and wild flowers.