The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1932-07-22

bump on log an let kid like you
see Miss Julia home. She's outa luck.
Well, give my love to Pa Stark when
you get to the Circle Cross"
"Was that what you wanted to tell
me?"
Little imps of deviltry danced in
the beady eyes. mo, Wills. A wink
is as good as a nod to a blind boss.
Scratch gravel, boy. You know the OF
saying: Opportunity is like bald
headed guy with chin whiskers; you
can catch him comm but not going"
McCann's answer was direct I'm
not liable to forget that she's Matt
Stark's daughter, so you needn't look
so blamed KNOWN Jim. l don't like
her any more'n she does me-"
"Sho! She's mighty nice lii girl.
an the best lookin' one in Arizona"
mo Stark looks good to me-" the
son of Peter Mccain said grimly.
They were taking the short cut
across the desert before either of them
spoke.
what did you say your name is?"
she asked, rather imperiously.
"They call me Wilson"
The girl noticed the slight pause be-
fore he had drawled the answer. It
probably was not his right name, she
reflected. A good many men did not
use the one to which they were born.
In that country it was not good form
to insist on particulars as to who a
man had been or from where he had
come.
"You ride for the McCanns."
He assented, without words.
Silence fell again between them. They
had come out of the silt and were
threading a way among the steel
thorned yuccas. The moon and the
stars were out, touching the land as
by magic wand All harsh detail
was blurred Ten thousand years of
drought were wiped out. soft desert
breeze was signing gently across a
sleeping world
His words, when at last they came.
were a surprise. "Why isn't it always
like this?" he asked, speaking almost
to himself rather than to her.
"How do you mean. like this?"
But she knew. she hoped she knew,
what he meant before he answered
For the desert had entered into her
life, too. She sensed its moods and
reflected them in her own. Sometimes
it was a hot devouring monster blast
ing all living things with its fiery
breath; again at sunset, when light
was flooding over the sheen of the
mesquite, it might be silver dragon
less destructive. In the moonlight it
was kind Of lovely, all ugliness and
threat obliterated.
A crouching animal slipped quickly
across the trail into the chaparral.
"Coyote?" she asked.
"Wildcat," he answered. Then, with
unexpected bitterness. That's the
desert for you
Again she understood what he
meant, and again asked, What do you
mean?"
Survival Of the fit"
"Isn't that true everywhere"
"Maybe so, but the conditions are
different. Everything that lives here
is born and bred in hardship, trained
for attack an defense. No escape
from it. All the plants have thick an
callous rinds. They have thorns that
sting. They have to push their roots
way into the ground to get water. If
they don't tougher they die. Tha's
what's ailin' us humans. We're desert
bred"
aren't people the same every
where?" she asked.
"No. Here we have to fight or go
under. We fight the drought and heat
Of nature. We fight each other for the
water holes. If we don't we lose out.
Consequence is we get fierce and saw
age like that wildcat"
EYES," she admitted with sigh.
"We're all under the spell of it, all
hard and relentless, kinda. But we
don't have to be-what is it you called
that wildcat? -ferocious and sly. The
desert shows it's teeth most of the
time. It's full of sting and barb and
thorn. But that's only one side of it.
All the time it's trying to tell us some
thing else, too, isn't it?''
His brooding eyes rested on her. So
she, too, felt it, this wild young thing
so full Of contrary impulses, of pas
sionate resentments, of brave elusive
dreams, of mysterious cravings for
goodness and beauty. He forgot that
she was of the enemy. Something
primeval stirred in him, joy old as
the race, that walked with Adam and
Eve in the garden. Without taking
thought of it he knew that they rode
alone in a world wonderful.
whats it tryin' to tell us?" he
asked in his low gentle voice.
81 don't know-quite. But some
thing good-and hopeful. The lovely
flowers of the yucca and the cactus
aren't they promise to us?" She
laughed at herself, soft-eyed. MAY
be that seems silly to you. But it's
the way feel Tonight, now. In all this
still moonlight the desert isn't threat
ening us, Is it?'
They were drawing up into coun-
try of creased arroyos. On the crest
of hillock they stopped and looked
back across the Painted desert. The
man was for moment carried out of
himself. Looking at this starry-eyed
girl, clean and innocent and rhythmic
in the freshness of her youth, it
seemed possible to escape the inherit
ance of his dark environment. There
was something in life deeper than hate
and selfshness and revenge if he could
onlysf find it.
Down the wind came drumming the