Clearwater Republican. [volume] (Orofino, Idaho) 1912-1922, 1920-04-23
CHAPTER IV-continued.

Fortunate fate, or whatever good
angel 1t is that sometimes drops un-
expected favors, designed that young
Clden should the following day deliver
s0al at the home Of Mr.. Melvin Dun
tan. Mr.. Duncan, tall. quiet and forty
Ave, was at work in his garden us
Dave turned the team In the lane and
hacked them up the long. narrow drive
connecting with the family coal chute.
As the heavy wagon moved straight
70 its objective Mr.. Duncan looked on
with approval that heightened into
admiration. Dave shOveled his load
without remark, but as he stood for
moment at the finish. wiping the
Iweat from his oal-grimed face, Mr..
Duncan engaged him in conversation.
you handle a team like you were
born to it." he said. where did you
get the knackf"
"Well. came up on a RANCH" said
Dave. 1--WE lived with horses ever
since could remember"
you're rancher. eh?" queried the
older man. swell, there's nothing like
i
e0uld handle horses like you there
isn't anything would hold me in town."
"Oh, don't know" Dave answered.
you might get sick of It,"
did you get sick Of it?'
Eden shot a keen glance at him.
The conversation was becoming per-
sonal. Yet there was in Mr.. Duncan's
manner a certain kindness, a certain
appeal Of sincere personality, that dis
armed suspicion.
Yes, l got sick of it," he said. II
lived on that ranch eighteen years
and never was inside school or church.
wouldn't that make you sick? &.
So l beat 1t for town."
"And / suppose you are attending
church regularly now. and night
school, too?"
Dawes quick temper fred up In re-
sentiment, but again the kindness of
the mans manner dlsarmed him. He
was silent for q moment, and then he
said:
mo. amt. That's what makes me
sick now. l came In here intendin' to
get an education. an I've never got
even a start at 1t, exceI' for some
things perhaps wasn't worth the
money. There always seems to be
somethin' else-in ahead"
There always will be-" said Mr..
Duncan, until you start"
But how's it to be done?" Dave
questioned with returning interest.
schools an books cost money, an l
never save dollar"
"And never WILL" said Mr.. Duncan,
until you start. But l think l see
plan that might help, and IL 1t appeals
to you it will also be great conyen-
lence to me. My wife likes to go driv-
Ing Sundays, and sometimes ON q
weekday evening but have SO many
things on hand / find 1t hard to get
out with her. My daughter used to
drive, but these new-fangled automo-
biles are turning the world upside
down-and many buggy with 1t.
Well-as saw you driving In here
said to myself, There's the mani for
that Job Of mine, If can get him :
but I'm not rich and l couldn't pay
you regular wages. But II I could
square the account by helping with
your studies couple Of nights a
week. used to teach school and
haven't altogether forgotten why,
that would be just what want What
DO you say?"
! II never saw anything on four feet
couldn't drive" said Dave. IAN II
you're willing to take a chance am.
When do we startY
First lesson tonight. Second les
son Thursday night. First drive Sun
day." Mr.. Duncan did not explain
that he wanted to know the boy better
before the drives commenced. and he
felt that two nights together would
satisfy him whether he had found the
right man.
Dave hurried back to the coalyard
and completed the days work in high
spirits. 1t seemed he was at last
somewhere. After supper he sur
prised his fellow laborers by changing
to his Sunday clothes and starting
ae-n street leading Into the residen-
tai Part Of the town. There were
specula'ions that he had "seen a
skirt"
MI. Dusc can met him at the door and
showed Dim into the living room.
Mrs. Dunhan. plump, motherly. low
able In the mature womanliness Of
ior'y' greeted him cordially. She was
sorry Edith vas out; Edith had ten
mis- engagenent. She was apparently