Grand Forks herald. [volume] (Grand Forks, N.D.) 1916-1955, 1920-06-08
BY DAVID ANDERSON

days and weeks at the clam rakes and
the mucky watts, with little more than
an occasional grunt between them,
would set their tongues bobbing like
a cork in a suck hole.
There were three recognized grades
of whisky along the Wabash-good
whisky, bad whisky and squirrel
When man got so far1along that he
couldt1,b tell the difference. the Mud
Hen served SQUIRREL, That's what
hadndouhtless looseped the tongues Of
the river men. That's what had put
the "Ach Himmel!" head on. the lit
tie Jew and placed him at a disad-
vantage that morning. The Pearl
hunter knew it the moment he saw
him gulp down the first gourdful Of
water.
Louie Solomon carried three rowers
in his long skiff, all hardy river men
that had been with him for years.
Each man wore a heavy s~ix-shooter
in plain sight at his belt. Some said
and that ne employed them as much
for their ability with the revolver as
for their skill at the oars. Solomon
himself was not a fighter, n never
went armed, but the case In which he
carried his pearls was never out Of
sight of at least two of the three row.
ers. Nor were the three ever allowed
ever Solomon himself might do, his
henchmen were required to stay
sober.
They were not a talkative bunch,
these three. A nod n a grunt was
all the P~earlhunter received as he
took his place in the bow. For that
matter, he was no more talkative
himself. Big issues lay ahead. a
man doesn't sell a Blue Moon every
day. ,a
Louie Solomon sat in the stern and
nursed his head. Squirrel whisky
leaves a mans head like that, and his
tongue like a dry mole skin. The
man in the bow was just a tiny grain
glad of that head. OF course, it was
not very sportsma nlike to feel that
way about it; not SO very unsports-
manlike, either, when one knew Louie
Solomon.
1t was far past noon when the
white skiff drew up to the wharf. A
crowd, mostly river men,, was there to
meet it-and more coming. 1t SEEM
ed everybody in Buckeye knew what
was going IN. 1t is not every town
that has such a distinction thrust up-
on it. Thrill-starved, like most out
of-the-way places of the earth. the
village had poured its population out
upon the river shore. 1t was a mot
ley company-an odd conglomeration
of funny necks and quaint faces
each man hungry for the bit Of
chance excitement-each eager for a
glimpse Of the tall youth whom for
tune had suddenly lifted high above
the commonplace.
In front Of the Mud Hen the little
Jew paused. rolled his furry tongue,
and jerked his hand toward the door.
The Pearlhunter shook his head.
Wait till We get back from the
bank"
The Jew stabbed the air with hie
expressive hands.
"Himmel! IT'S on me-
But the Pearlhunter was far too
wise to fall for that trick.
Thanks he said. But business
first"
He strobe On toward the bank. The
Jew trotted along beside him. The
1crowd followed. =
The old banker invited them back
into his private Office and shut the
door. It was the first time h Pearl
hunter had aver been farther in q
bank than the lobby, and only once In
his lie that far. The solid and sub
stantial luxury Of the place was q
revelation to him, even a matter of
intense curiosity. But the cumulative
effect Of 1t was to give him courage,
to make him feel he was somebody.
It seemed to the Pearlhunter that
VIZ oi he Vent x1 70 s sphs the pearl f rom
the safe. When he finally re-entered
1.-THE private office the owner OF the
pearl saw why. He had hunted up
somewhere about the bank q small
box, a tiny jewel case, covered with
green plush. and was carrying the