Rock Island Argus. (Rock Island, Ill.) 1893-1920, 1918-08-02
CHAPTER XVIII.
(Continued.l

at will not be difficult, an
swered as l began to undress'
Nothing was difficult those days.
I swan the river and towed the
buck across with beech withe IN
his gambrel joints. The hound
Joined me before I was half across
with my burden an nosed the car
cass and swan on ahead yelping
with delight.
We dressed the deer and then
had the great joy of carrying him
on my back two miles across the
country to the wagon. The senator
wished to send a guide for the deer,
but l insisted that the carrying was
my privilege.
well, 1 guess your big thighs
and broad shoulders can stand 1t,
said he.
my uncle has always said that
no man could be called hunter
until he can go into, the woods with
out a guide and kill a deer and
bring it out on his back. l want to
be able to testify that l am at least
partly qualified"
Your uncle didn't say anything
about fetching the deer across a
deep river without boat, did her
Mr.. Wright asked with a smile.
Leaves of the beeches, NAPLES
and ACKNOWLEDGMENT by frost
hung like tiny lanterns, glowing
with MONDAY light, above the dim
7 forest-aisle which we travelled.
The sun was down when we got
to the clearing.
What a day it has been" said
Mr.. Wright when we were seated
in the wagon at last with the
| hound and the deer's head between
! his feet and mine.
"One of the best in my life"
| the like of which l have rarely
known in these many years that
have come to me.
We rode on in silence with the
calls of the swamp robin and the
hermit thrush ringing in our ears
as the night fell.
TITS a good time to think. and
there we take different roads" said
my friend. you will turn into the
future and I into the past"
1--WE been thinking about your
uncle" he said by and by. "He is
one of the greatest men I have ever
known. You knew of that foolish
! gossip about him-didnt your
YES" I answered.
We'll, now he's gone about his
! business the same as ever and
| showed by his life that it couldn't
! be true. Not a word out of him!
But Dave Ramsey fell sick-down
on the fiat last winter. By and by
his children were crying for bread
and the poormasser was going to
take, charge of them. Well, who
should turn up there, just in the
! nick of time, but Della and Peabody
Baynes. They fed those children
all winter and kept them in clothes
so that they could go to school. The
strange thing about it is this: il
was Dave Ramsey who really start
ed that story. He got. up in church
| the other night and confessed his
crime. His conscience wouldn't let
him keep it. He said that he had
not seen Peabody Baynes on that
road the day the money was lost
hut had only heard that he was
there. He knew now that he
couldt have been there. Gosh
t'almighty! as your uncle used to
say when there was nothing else to
be said"
1t touched me to the soul-this
Iong-delayed, vindication of my be-
loved Uncle Peabody.
The senator ate supper with us
and sent his hired man out for his
horse and buggy. When he had pu:
on his overcoat and was about tC
go he turned to my uncle and said
peabody Baynes, If I have had
any success in the world it is be-
cause have had the exalted honor
and consciousness that | represent
ed men like you"
He left us and we sat down by
the glowing candles. Soon / told
them what Ramsey had done. There
was a moment of silence. Uncle
Peabody rose and went 10 the wa
| ter-paij for drink.
| Bart, l believe I'll plant corn on
that ten-acre lot next spring