The Bottineau courant. (Bottineau, Bottineau County, N.D.) 1895-1929, 1922-08-03

edge to feel the ttngle Of 1t; the ole
house suddenly became stuffy and
~prisonlike as he wandered through It
Again and again pounded through his
head the fact that only a night Of
travel interviewed between Indianapo.
lis and st. Louis ; within twelve hours
he could be In the office Of Henry
Beamish. And then
A hurried resolution. A hasty pack
ing Of a travelling bag and the cashine
Of a check at the cigar store down on
the corner. A wakeful night while
the train clattered along upon it's
Journey. At last:
"I'm Robert F%airchild," he said, as
he faced a white-haired, Cupid-faced
man In the rather dingy Offices in the
Princess building. A slow smile
spread owe the pudgy features of the
genial-appearing attorney, and he
waved a fat hand toward the Offices
extra chair.
"Sit down, Son." came casually.
NEEDN'T have announced yourself.
I'd have known you--just like your ia
Their. Boy. How Is he?" Then his
face suddenly sobered. I'm afraid
your presence Is the answer. Am /
rightw :%">>.
Fairchfld nodded gravely. The old
attorney stared out Of the window to
the grimy roof and signboards of the
next building.
perhaps it's better So" he said at
last. did he get any cheerier be-
fore-he went2"
mo. Afraid Of every step ON the
veranda, of every knock at the door,"
Again the attorney stared out Of
the window.
And you? Are you afraid?"
"Of what?"
The lawyer smiled.
II don't know. Only" and he
leaned forward-"it's just as though I
were living my younger days over
again this morning. 1t doesn't seem
any time at all since your father was
sitting just about where you are now,
and CAD, Boy, how much you look like
he looked that morning! The same
%gray-blue eyes, the same dark hair,
the same strong shoulders, and good,
manly chin. the same build-and look
Of determination about him. The call
Of adventure was in his blood, and
he sat there all enthusiastic, telling
me what he intended doing and ask
ing my advice-although he wouldn't
have followed 1t If I had given it.
poaly horon rpo a hohr ord kh1 -
he loved, and out West was sudden
wealth, waiting for the right man to
come along and find it. Gad!" White
haired old Beamish chuckled with the
memory of 1t. 'Then four years later"
the tone changed suddenly, che came
back"
"What them" Fairchild was on
the edge Of his chair. But Beamish
only spread his hands.
"TruthfulIy, Boy, I don't know. I
have guessed-but I won't tell you
what. ALI I know is that your father
found what he vas looking for and
was on the point of achieving his ev-
cry dream, when something happened.
Then three men simply disappeared
from the mining camp, announcing
that they had failed and were going
to hunt new diggings. That was all.
One of them vas your father"
"But you said that he'd found"
"Silver, running twenty ounces to
the ton on an eight-inch vein which
gave evidences of being only the be-
ginning of a bonanza! I know, be-
cause he had written me that, a month
before"
"And he abandoned 1T"
He'd forgotten what he had writ
ten when I saw him again. I didn't
question him. He went home then,
after giving me enough money to pay
the taxes or the mine for the next
twenty years, simply as his attorney
and without divulging his where
abouts. I did 1t. Eight years or so
later I saw him in Indianapolis. He
gave me more money-enough for
| eleven Or twelve years"
"And that was ten years agoT" Rob-
ert Fairchild's eyes were reminiscent.
II remember was only a kid. He
sold off everything he had, except the
house."
Henry Beamish walked to his safe
and fumbled there a moment, to re-
turn at last with a few slips of paper.
Here's the answer" he said qui.
city, "the taxes are paid until 1922"
Robert Fairchild studied the re.
ceipts carefully-futilely. They told
him nothing. The lawyer stood look.
ing down upon him; at last he laid q
hand on his shoulder.