The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1922-09-21
SEPT. ii, 1922

A mile more, then the truck stopped
with a jerk.
"Where you bound for, pardnerT :
"Ohadi."
"That's 1t, straight ahead. I turn
of here. Miner?" ~:
FairchiId shrugged his shoulders
and nodded noncommittally.
"Just thought I'd ask. Plenty Of
work around here for single and
double jackers. Things are beginning
to look up a bit-at least In silver"
"Thanks. Do you know a good place
to stops"
"Yeh. Mother Towards boarding
house. Everybody goes there, sooner
or later. You'll see it on the left-hand
side Of the street before you get to
the main block. Good old girl knows
how to treat anybody In the mining
game from operators on down. She
was here when mining was mining 7"
Fairchild lifted his bag from the
rear Of the vehicle, waved a farewell
to the driver and started into the vii
lage. And then the vision of the girl
departed, momentarily, to give place
to other thoughts, other pictures, of q
day long gone.
The SUN was slanting low, throwing
deep shadows from the hills into the
little valley with it's chattering, milk
white stream, softening the scars Of
the mountains with their great refuse
dumps; reminders of hopes of twenty
years before and as bare of vegeta-
ton as in the days when the pick and
CAD and drill of the prospector tore
the rock loose from it's hiding place
under the surface of the ground. The
scrub pines of the almost barren
mountains took ON a fluffier, softer
tone; the jutting rocks melted away
into their own shadows; it was a pic
ure of peace and of memories.
And it had been here that Thornton
Fairchild. back in the nineties, had
dreamed his dreams and fought his
fight. A sudden cramping caught the
sons heart, and it pounded with
thing akin to fear. The old forebod-
ing of his fathers letter had come
upon him, the mysterious thread of
that elusive, intangible Thing great
enough to break the will and resist
ance Of a strong man and turn him
into a weakling-silent, white-haired
sitting by a window, waiting for
death What had it been? Why had
it ONE upon his father? How could
it be fought? He brushed away the
beady p~erspiration with a gesture al
most Of anger, then with a look of re-
lief, turned in at a small white gate
toward a big, rambling building which
proclaimed itself, by the sign on the
door, to be Mother Towards boarding
house.
A moment of waiting, then he faced
a gray-haired, kindly faced woman,
who stared al him with ~wide-open
eyes as she stood, hands on hips, be-
fore him.
Don't you tell me I don't know
you! If you amt a Fairchild, I'll
never feed another miner corned beef
and cabbage as long as / live. Amt
you, now?" she persisted, faint you a
Fairchild?"
The man laughed in spite of him.
self. "You guessed it."
You're Thornton Fairchild's boy !"
She had reached out for his handbag,
and then, busting about him, drew
him into the big "parlor." Didn't I
know you the minute I saw youa
Land, you're the picture of your dadi
Sakes alive, how is hep"
There was q moment of silence.
Fairchild found himself suddenly halt
ing and boyish as he stood before her.
"He's-he's gone, Mrs. Howard"
"DeadT" She put up both hands.
sit don't seem possible. And me 70