The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1921-08-11

gOOO ne iOOKGQ Wnen ne came n
knelt BY my bed and kissed mel This
Ii 1 hard journey, but q woman can
bear anything with such a man. The
doctor said / would be all right in
three days, and ! was.
Late that afternoon 1t began to
rain. samson was singing az he
worked On his wheel. A traveller
came along on horseback and saw
our plight. He was a young mission
airy going west. Samson began to
joke with him.
You're a happy man for one in
so much trouble said the stranger.
'sThen / heard Samson say: We'll,
sir, I'm In q hx where happiness is
absolutely necessary. It's like grease
on the wagon wheels-we couldn't
70 on without 1t. When we need any.
thing we make II II W. can. My wife
Ia sick and the wagon is broke and it's
raining and night is near in q lone
some country, and it amt q real good
time for me to be down In the mouth
lis 1t, now1 We haven't broke any
bones OF had an earthquake or been
scalped by Indians, 80 there's some
room for happiness.
Look here, stranger-I like you,'
said the man II there's anything !
can do to help We, TIL stop a WHILE"
He spent the night with them and
helped mend the felly and set the
tire. S@
The fever and ague passed from
one to another and all yer sick
before the journey ended, although
through his misery. There were many
breaks to mend, but Samson's inge-
nuity was always equal to the task.
One day, near nightfall, they were
overtaken by . tall, handsome Yankee
lad riding a pony. His pony stopped
beside the wagon and looked toward
the travellers as II appealing for help.
The boy was pointing toward the hori-
o and m~uttering. Sarah saw at
once that his mind was wandering in
the delirium Of fever, She got out
Of the wagon and took his hand. The
moment she did so he began crying
like a child. 5G&%.' -.5.r. Y
'.This boy is SICK" she said to Sam
son, who came and helped him off
his horse. They camped for the night
and put the boy to bed and gave him
medicine and tender care. He was
too sick to travel next day. The Tray
Tors stayed with him and nursed the
lad until he was able to 60 on. He
was from Niagara county. New York,
and his name was Harry Needles.
His mother had died when he was
ten and his father had married again.
He had not been happy in his home
after that and his father had given
him a pony and a hundred dollars
and sent him away to seek his W
fortune. Homesick and lonely and Ill,
and just going west with q sublime
faith that the West would somehow
provide for him, he might even have
persisted on the way If he had not fall
en- in with friendly people. His story
had touched the heart of Sarah and
Samson. He was a big, green, gentle
hearted country boy who had set out
filled with hope and the love Of adj
venture. Sarah found pleasure In
mothering the poor lad, and so it
happened that he became one Of their
little party. He was helpful and good
natured and had sundry arts that
pleased the children. The man and
the woman liked the big, honest lad.
One day he said to Samson: II
hope you won't mind II I 60 along
with you, sir"
"Glad to have you with US" said
Samson, "We've talked it over. If
you want to, you can come along
with us and our home shall be yours
and I'll do what's right by you"
They Jared along through Indiana
and over the wide savannas Of ILL
nois, and on the ninety-seventh day
Of their journey they drove through
rolling, grassy, Towering prairies and
up a long, hard hill to the small log
cabin settlement of New Salem, I'LL
nois, on the shore Of the Sangamon.
They halted about noon in the middle
Of this little prairie village, opposite
4 small clapboard house. A sign hung
over its door which bore the rudely
lettered words: "Rutledge's Tavern"
A long, slim, stoop-shduldered young
man sat in the shade Of an oak tree
that stood near a corner Of the tavern,
with q number of children playing
around him. He sat leaning against
the tree trunk reading a book. He
had risen as they came near and stood
looking at them, with the book under
his arm. Samson says In his diary
that he looked like ian untrimmed
yearling colt about sixteen hands
high. He got up slow and kept rising
till his bush of black tousled hair was
six feet four above the ground. Then
he put on an old straw hat without
any band on 1t. He reminded me Of
Philemon Bakers fish rod, he was
that narrer.- For humliness I'd match
him against the world. His hide was
kind o. yaller and leathery. I could
see he was still In the gristle-a little
over twenty-but his face was marked
up by worry and weather like q mans.
/ never saw anybody SO long between
joints Don't hardly e how he
could tell when his feet got cold.'
He wore a hickory shirt without a
collar or coat or jacket. One suspen-
der held up his coarse, linsey trousers,
the legs OF which fitted closely and
came only to q blue yarn zone above
4 Zhia ho0vv Seowhidn chnna Eounann