The Marietta journal. (Marietta, Ga.) 1918-1944, 1920-09-10
Lizzie and
Her Dove
By KATHERINE BAKER
(Copyright.)

shroud, and the stony river-bed if
you have hunted Soapy Smiths grave,
far up the lonely valley that runs to-
ward the land of gold, and have
viewed the CORY picture of his taking
off that decorates Mr.. Diapers shop,
where you bargain for moccaSins and
muklukS and medicine hats; if you
have seen in Kirmse's rival establish
ment the polar bearskins that leave
you speechless and make all bear
skins you formerly approved look like
Angora cats for size-then you surely
have beheId the famous necklace.
1t lay in its case in Kirmse's Win
dow, the admiration and envy of ma
tive and tourist alike, graduated
series of fat, opulent nuggets, discreet
ly polished, pear-shaped, pendant
from suitable golden chain.
The miner who should present his
lass with such token of esteem must
rank high among impetuous lovers.
But probably you'd rather get on and
hear the story.
"Gee, that's some puddin'" said the
man in shirt-sleeves appreciatiyely.
Smiling and blushing until the scar
let behind her dusky skin quite out
did the rouge in front of it, the little
Indian waitress set another plate of
pudding before him and offered a
pitcher of the thickest cream.
And that meant better cream than
you are used to, unless you are mighty
lucky.
She was stylish young woman,
this chiefs daughter who waited at
table in Mrs. Bullets clearinghouse.
At thirty she would be shapeless.
At seventeen she had q slender. SLOW
emily prettiness that reminded one of
a Japanese.
The man in red shirt-sleeves rose
from the table and sauntered to the
piano at the other end of the room.
The Indian girls eyes followed him
with dumb alteration as, coughing, he
pulled sweater over his head and
went out into the eternal spring rain.
The little waitress slipped through
the doorway, and ran across the foot
bridge in the yard to where the light
ed windows of the annex shone haz-
lily through the mist
Drawn shades hid the room within.
The Indian girl, stepping lightly in
her sOiled white dancing slippers,
crossed the threshold like a slender
shadow and found shelter in a closet
in the hail.
The partitions were badly seasoned
fir, which is the most unreliable of
woods
Wide cracks let through CLEANS of
electric light. The men were tramp
ing about noisily. They dropped their
great boots on the floor.
Presently one uttered a mild oath
as bag slipped from his fingers and
clinked melodiously.
Dog-gone-there goes my poke !" he
grumbled, STOPPING.
The listener knew well that chime
of gold. She leaned nearer to the
partition.
At breakfast next morning she bent
over the red-shirted youth, placing oat-
meal before him.
big nuggets" she murmured.
"Above Forded Fails. You go, too"
The puzzled expression of his face
changed slowly to understanding.
81 amt got the money for fare and
an outfit" he answered morosely.
In the passageWay outside the
waitress drew a little bag from her
blOuse-a pitiful, dirty little bag
with a few gold pieces in it.
You pay me easy you get those
nuggets" she explained the loan with
a brilliant smile. 81 not need"
SO the women of Weinsburg gave
their hair for bOwStrings to their men.
The compositor caught her hand a
moment gratefully in his.
You're a darned nice girl, Lizzie"
he declared. IF l win, I'll get you
the finest present in Alaska"
When the red-shirted man. thinner
and large-eyed, reappeared in Skag-
way there were now women, too. to
arrest a wandering eye.
The Crystal Concert company, with
Miss Crystal Kelly, had landed there.
The company was not numerous. A
stout person with strong contraltC
voice and faded, pretty elder sister
who played the piano. assisted Miss
Crystal Kelly.
Miss Crystal was attractive enough
TO require a chaperon.
For the present her COMPANY
waited in the doorway of Alaska. ad
vertising, engaging the Brotherhood
hall over Diapers store. planning the
coming tour
1t was on the day of the concer
that the cOmpositor came back Il
town.
Everybody welcomed him cordially
every one wanted to know where b,
had been and how he had come out.
The compostor was not reticent
He had made his strike.
But there's no gold in that forma
tion," objected the bishop who knew
his Alaska from Point Barrow on Nh,