White Bluffs spokesman. [volume] (White Bluffs, Wash.) 1907-1938, 1925-01-09

wasn't his influence over the boy bet
ter than Jessie's? Might he not still
win Hugh to something big if he could
have the young man with him as in
the old days on the ranch?
That evening he began to make
room in the rear of the store for
Hughs cot. The famous bookcases
never had been filled with books. But
an accumulation Of magazines during
the years had packed the case at the
rear from floor to ceiling. Bookie had
an idea that il he set the great book
case at right angles to the wall, let
ting it stand partitionwise as did the
stacks in the library at Cheyenne,
natural screen, as it were, would be
formed between his cot and Hugh's.
He liked a certain amount of privacy
in his old age, did Bookie. after
youth lived naked to the stars. So he
grasped the shelves and pulled them
free Of the wall.
The next morning Hugh, immedi-
ately after breakfast, fastened his
horse before The Lariat and found the
door locked. He grunted with sur
prise. Bookie had not been at the
hotel for breakfast that morning. He
put his hands round his eyes and
peered through the window One Of
the bookcases in the rear had fallen
with it's mass of magazines. Hugh
seized his saddle axe, broke the lock
on the door and ran the length of the
room. A lean old hand protruded
from beneath the fallen book stack.
Uncle Booklet" shouted Hugh, be-
ginning to heave madly at the bundle
of magazines.
There was no reply. But when he
had cleaned the debris away Hugh
found that the old man was still
breathing. He ran for help and re-
turned with the doctor, Pink, Mrs.
Morgan and Jessie. There was not
much to be done. Internal hemor-
rhages. In an hour, Hugh was alone
with the old man, still breathing
family. The doctor had thought he
would not waken, but he did.
All the golden May day Hugh sat
beside the cot, his hand on Booklets.
Folk drifted softly in and out none
venturing to speak to Hugh, after
glance at his face. The mail-plane,
across the river, took on its daily
gorge of oil, gasoline and letters,
ny btIrr 1ilfn cd
pigeon, then rose In long, proud
spiral and disappeared in the blue
above the castellated rampant of the
canyon. AT sunset Il sheep wagon,
with canvas top Tapping in the spring
wind, wound down the distant cork
screw trail and made camp on the riv-
err bank opposite The Lariats rear
window. Above the rush of the river
as the setting sun turned its troubled
brown to bronze, rose the song of the
Mexican sheepherder:
whittier so swiftly flies the timid
swallow?
What distant bourne seeks her I'M
firing wing?
l. " IGtCu llCl HCoL WhaI iOCuA0 uoSo
she follow
When darkness wraps the poor, wee
storm-tossed thing"
Bookie's brown eyes opened slow
ly and his fine gaze rested on the
square of burning bronze light that
the window frame still outlined
"Old Pablo making ready for the
spring herding," he said. Light the
lamp, Hughie."
Hugh obeyed and the wistful brown
eyes followed the line Of Hugh's noble
head against the untrimmed wick
II was conscious for quite while
after the smash" B ookie said,
scarcely above whisper. II was fix
ing up a bedroom for you. Sort OF
glad 1t was books finished me Off after
all. l always thought 1t would be
Indian Massacre pies"
"Dont!" said Hugh tensely. his
hand again seeking Booklets.
Don't feel too bad, my boy! After
ALL I've read all the books that are
really filing. Give Red Wolf that old
copy of Frederick Random He al
ways wanted it. Likes the pictures.
My will Is In the bottom of the cash
register"
His voice trailed off. But Hugh
knew that he hadn't finished. He
seemed to be listening to the familiar
lines of Pablo's song
q" l.. here to my couch I'll call her,
Why go so far, dark and strange
skies to SEEK
Safe would she be, no evil should be-
fall her,
For I'm an exile, sad, too sad to
weep"
And indeed, he opened his eyes
again to say: 1--WE heard him sing
that ever spring for ten years. Exiles.
SO we are. From what, Hughie? From
our own best selves, perhaps-Don't
make my mistake-for Gods sake
don't! Give all-all-all-"
Booklets head jerked back on the
pillow. He fought for moment, face
distorted while death ratified in his
throat, and he was gone, leaving his
face serenely beautiful.
Hugh stood beside him, looking
down at the sunken eyes. "The best
friend I'll ever have" he thought
"My only real friend I'll never get
over missing him."