The Holbrook news., 1921-01-14

and turning to the window, stood star ing out over the river.
 He was still q man without a name
 The Boss stepped back from the door.
 "The Blue Moon." he said. Hit orta be putt away safe"
 AS If the statement recalled thoughts that had strayed far, the young man reached in his pocket and drew forth the pearl, still rolled in the bit of cloth.
 The two days of ripening and the chafe of the cloth had greatly en- hanced its brilliance. Quietly rolling the pearl up in the cloth again, he left the cabin and, followed by the Boss, strode down the slope through the trees to the boat and together they rowed away toward the village.
 The fame of the Pearlhunter had preceded him. As he came up from the wharf into the town, the Mud Hen, the one saloon of the place. dis gOrged swaggering, swearing pOpu- lation that gathered round him. The Boss crew, camped half mile below Fallen Rock, and the crew of Bull Masterson, camped three miles above, were both there. Besides these, the Obenchain, a small steamer plying be- tween the ports of the Wabash. had come in that morning, bringing other river tmen.-
 Caught in the swirl of the crowd. the Rearlhunter and his companion were swept into the Mud Hen A hun dred voices clamOred to have the pearl laid upon the bar where all could file by and see it. There fell few min utes of comparative quiet while the hungry eyes of the river men were de vOuring it. Then followed drinks all round-at the expense of the finder; and-what followed is not a pleasant task to describe.
 The Pearlhunter, remembering that mound of fresh earth at Fallen Rock, kept his head and drank but little The Boss, on the other hand, "cut tn dog lOOse," as the river men say. By noon he was singing snatches of half forgotten songs and fighting the h. dian wars all over again. Coming up to where his young friend leaned against the bar, in easy reach of the pearl, still lying upon its bit of cloth, he threw an arm about his neck and leant hard upon him, something he couldn't have been hired to do when sober
 Come ere, you fellers. Thls'n's on me- an it's to tn Pearlhunter, tn whitest man along tn Wabash-an' be d-d t tn man what says e ain't.'
 The rabble swarmed about the bar all that were able. Bottle necks gurgled; glasses clinked red whisky sizzled down hot throats; a few shouted; some swOre; others merely laughed foolishly.
 That last drink. was the Boss fin- ish. He wilted down into the nearest chair lurched heavily over upon a ta- ble and lay there mumbling, or laugh Ing in high, shrill key; occasionally shouting out Q note or two of boat ing song that had been old on the riv- CT for a quarter of century.
 It was early afternoon before the Pearlhunter dared to think seriously of depositiug the peari-before river etiquette permitted him to remove 1t from the bar. He tried to rally the Boss. All he got was a further in- stallment of the Indian wars.
 Half disgusted with 1t all, he turned back to the bar and stood leaning his chin upon his hand. A door opened from another part of the building the Mud Hen being an inn, the only one in the place. A man entered Crossing the floor with as little atten- ton to the crowd as if the place had been deserted, he swaggered up to the bar. Perhaps he secretly wished that somebody would get in his way. He had just that air about him.
 The Pearlhunter heard the door open; felt the hush that fell-the hush that always falls upon the rab- ble at the coming of masterful pres