Daily capital journal. (Salem, Oregon) 1903-1919, 1919-01-21

| We must Keep watch-another deer
is coming" said the senator.
We had only a moments watch be.
fore a fine yeariing buck came down
TO the opposite shore and stood look.
ing across the river. The senator
raised his rife and fired. The buck
fell In the edge of the water.
How shall we get himi" my friend
asked.
/ 1T will not be difficult" I answered
as | began to undress. Nothing was
difficult those days.
swan the river and toved the
buck across with a beech wfths In his
gsmbrel joints. The hound Joined ne
before ! was half across with ny bur-
Den and nosed the carcass sad swan
on ahead yelping with delight.
We dressed the deer and then l
had the great joy Of carrying him
en- my back two miles acress the ceun-
try to the wagon. The senator wished
to send guide for the deer, but In
sisted that the carrying was my privi-
leye.
well, guess your big thighs and
broad shoulders can stand it." said he,
my uncle has always said that no
man could be called hunter until he
can 90 into the woods without a guide
and kill deer and bring 1t out on
his back. want to be able to testify
that | am at least partly qualified" !"
"Your uncle didn't say anything
about fetching the deer across q deep
river without boat, did hep Mr..
Wright asked me with a smile.
Leaves Of the beeches, naples and
basswoods-yellowed by frost-hung
like tiny lanterns. glowing with noon
day light, above the dim forest aisle
which we Travelled.
The sun was down when we got to
the clearing.
"What day it has been !" said Mr..
Wright when we were seated in the
wagon.
"One of the best in my life," I an
swered with joy in my heart the like
Of which / 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.
ats good time to think, and there
we take different roads," said my
friend. "You will turn into the future
and into the past"
Tive been, thinking about your
uncle" he said by and by. HE is one
of the greatest men 1 have ever known.
You knew of that foolish gossip about
him-diqn't you?"
"Yes," | answered.
swell, now, he's gone about his busi-
ness the same as ever and showed by
his life that 1t couldn't be true. Not
word out of him! But Dave Ramsey
fell slck-down on the flat last winter.
BY and by his children were crying for
bread and the poormaster was going
to take charge of them. Well, who
should turn n-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 60 to school. The
strange thing about it Is this: 1t was
Dave Ramsey who really started 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 but had only heard
that he was there. He knew now that
he couldn't have been there. Gosh
t'almighty! gas your uncle used to
say when there was nothing else to be
said"
1t touched me to the soul-this long
delayed vindlcation of my beloved
Uncle Peabody.
The senator ate supper with us and
sent his hired man out for his horse
and buggy. When he had put on his
oyercoat and was about to go he
turned to my uncle and said:
Peabody Baynes, if l have had any
success in the world it is because l
have had the exalted honor and con-
seriousness that I represented men like
you"
He left us and we sat down by the
glowing candles. Soon l told them what
Ramsey had done. There was q mo-
ment Of silence. Uncle Peabody rose
and went to the water pail for a drink.
"Bart, believe I'll plant corn on
that ten-arce lot next spring-darned
If | don't" he said as he returned to
his chair.
None Of us ever spoke of the matter
again, to my knowledge.
CHAPTER XVIII.
On the Summit