The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1937-04-01

ever became OF Kay Joyce" There
was moments pause. Hammond
rubbed at his hot face. Then he
looked up, queer, burning light in
his dark eyes. "You know, Bar
stow, it was the funniest feeling to
ride up to that old hNuse in an au-
tomobile and get out and walk right
through the gate
Where you had played as chill
| dren"
played nothing; that old granite
block of father never would let
me inside the yard. You couldn't
blame the kid for shouting me
with him telling her not to asso-
ciate with ragtags."
II suppose not" said the attor-
ney, staring at his law books.
ut was funny in a way. Jimmy
had called up the house, but he
hadn't said whom he was bringing
out. Kay didn't recognize me for
minute; I'd have known her any
where"
Naturally"
"Well, for awhile I wished I
hadn't come. You see, I'd always
dreamed of that house as the grand
est place in the world-one of those
old-time building-block places, with
turrets and a slate roof"
81 know the kind"
"And Kay was a bit distant at
first; you know, hard to pick up the
thread after all these years. Then,
just for fun, Jimmy pretended to
have forgotten his handkerchief. So
he reached for mine had a moose
hide bag full of nuggets in that
pocket"
"You'd fixed it up that way"
"Of course. So, out came the
nuggets with the handkerchief and
spilled all over the floor. You
should have seen us!" Again he
rubbed feverishly at his face. "Ev-
erybody down on the floor, helping
pick up those nuggets"
Barstow eyed him, a gentle ap-
praisal.
''That helped considerably, didn't
it, Jack?"
ooh, yes. Naturally, it led to
questions and something I could
talk about. Kay and I got along
simply great after I'd found my
tongue. Queer, isn't it, how a per-
son will have an idea all his life,
that if he could just be free to
talk to a certain person, all her
false ideas of him would fade away?
You know. Everything divided us
when we were kids; social position,
money, and all that. We didn't even
| go to the same school. But never
wanted anybody but her-I've never
thought about anybody but her. And
I knew that if I could just get to-
| gether with her, without that old
| chisel-face of father around"
| 81 judge from the newspaper ac-
counts that you got along famous
ly."
Hammond stared.
| "Where in the world did they
| get all that stuff" he asked, then
was silent. His brain had spun for
moment, suddenly to halt, high
| lighted upon one particular recol-
lection. It was the Crystal Castle
in Seattle, with persons crowding
around Jacks table. He could see
Kay's outstretched hands as her
fingers toyed with scattered, pebble
like nuggets, where he again had
tossed them from the heavy moose
hide pouch to the tablecloth. Per-
sons were asking questions, all sorts
of questions; now Hammond re-
membered a young man with a
newspaper stuffed in one pocket,
who queried him with particularly.
eve did the town." he said. 81
guess some newspaper man must
have barged into our party"
Evidently. He got the story
about as you've told it. Even to the
farewells down at the dock"
The telephone rang. Barstow
turned to answer it. Jack did not
notice. He was back in Seattle,
with the big red sun coloring the
waters of the Sound, with the whis-
tie of the S. S. Aleutian sounding it's
warning for all passengers ashore.
And he stood at the foot of the
gangplank, with Kay close to him,
telling him that she wasn't afraid
of life in a new, raw mining camp.
Then there was Jimmy Moon, rub
bling at his pudgy face and rafting
on about how they'd all be up as
soon as good weather came and he
could get his airplane fixed. And
Mrs. Joyce, the mother, thin, angu-
lar, amusingly acidulous, poking a
dead cigarette out of its long, green
holder only that she might insert
and light a fresh one.
The receiver clicked on the hook.
Barstow turned back to his client.
$50 they're all alone now, just
the girl and her mother"
Eyes, except for an old friend of
the family. Oh, I shouldn't say he
was old in years-a little more than
my age. A geologist; the old man
was interested in lot of mining
down in South American countries.
This Bruce Kenning used to look
after a lot of stuff down there for
| hin, -