The Mellette County pioneer. [volume] (Wood, Mellette County, S.D.) 19??-1971, 1922-11-10

Fairchild, one sentence in that letter
had found an echo, had started a pull
sating something within him hat he
never before had known:
1T is the blood Of an adventurer."
And it seemed that Robert Fair
child needed no more than the knowl-
edge to feel the Jingle Of It; the old
house suddenly became stuffy and
prisonlike as he wandered through It.
Again and again pounded through his
head the fact hat 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 cashing
of a check at the cigar store down on
the corner. A wakeful night while
the train clattered along upon It's
journey. Al last:
I'm Robert Fairchild," he said. as
he faced a white-haired, Cupid-faced
man in the rather dingy Offices in the
Princess building. A slow smile
spread over the pudgy features of the
genial-appearing attorney, and he
waved q 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
ther, Boy. How is he?" Then his
face suddenly sobered. "Tm afraid
your presence is the answer. Am l
right?"
Fairchild 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 went?"
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.
81 don't know. Only" and he
leaned fOrward-"it's just as though l
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 II IL | had given It.
Back home was a baby and the woman
he loved, and out West was sudden
wealth, waiting for the right man TO
/ come along and find 1t. GadI" White
haired old Beamish chuckled with the
memory Of 1t. Then four years later"
the tone changed suddenly, she came
back"
"What them" Fairchild was on
the edge Of his chair. But Beamish
only spread his hands.
"Truthfully, Boy, I don't know. I
have guessed-but / won't tell you
what. All l know Is i!mt your father
found what he was 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 was 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! / know, be-
| cause he had written me that, a month
| before"
"And he abandoned it?"
He'd forgotten what he had writ
ten when l saw him again. l didn't
| question him. He went home then,
| after giving me enough money to pay
the taxes on the mine for the next
twenty years, simply as his attorney
and without divulging his where
abouts. ! did It. Eight years or so
later / saw him in Indianapolis. He
gave me more money-enough for
eleven or twelve years"
"And that was ten years ago?' Rob-
| ert Fairchild's eyes were reminiscent.
IL 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 quiz
city. "the axe 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 a
hand on his shoulder.
BOY" anne quickly, 81 know just
about what you're thinking. I've spent
a few hours at the same kind of a job
myself. and I've called old Henry
| Beamish more kinds of a fool than
you can think of for not coming right