The midland journal. (Rising Sun, Md.) 1885-1947, 1941-01-03

ssWell, Ericsson, you're not quite
SOBER" said the other. "You haven't
been sober a day since we pulled
out Of Seattle. And at the present
moment you're not wanted here.
'Who says I'm not wanted7"
~ do"
whats that to me?" said the
man at my side.
TITS this" was the unexpectedly
prompt reply. And before knew it
! was alone on the crate.
But what startled me, after Q
quick moment Of struggle, was that
the young man who answered to
the name OF Eric the Red had not
only been lifted bodily from where
he sat, but had been shaken as q
rag is shaken by a terrier and had
been swung out over the ships rail.
He was held there by the scruff Of
the neck, writhing and kicking. He
began, in fact, to emit muffied little
rat squeals as he hung over open
space, with nothing but the star
riffied, black water under his heels.
Don't" gasped.
"A few gallons Of sea water" said
the untroubled deep voice beside
me, would wash a little Of the fire.
works out Of his system. |"
please DON'T" inplored, re-
membering that a moments unex-
pected rending of cloth might send
the man tumbling down into the
channel.
My rescuer turned to me and ap-
parently tried to study my face in
that misty midnight duskiness. Then
he swung out his second long arm
and lifted the still struggling figure
back over the rail. i;s.,Ia II
''Now you get down where you be-
long," said the tall man as he gave
his captive final shake. 2"And II
you talk to this girl again, EricA
son, I'll break every bone In your
BODY
It took time for Ericsson to get
his breath back. 81 IS
"You don't own her" he shrilly
announced. "And you don't own me.
And if you
But the other cut him short.
.Are you going?" he demanded.
Ericsson fell back a step or two as
the other advanced.
"I'n do more than talk before I'm
through with her." he proclaimed.
It was final effort, ] felt, to save
his face. After silent moment or
two that impressed me as heavy
with hate, he retreated into the
darkness.
The tall man stopped to pick up
the fallen fiashlight. M IS
That's the curse" he said, 'sof
our West Coast. It's too full of
buns and bindle stiffs. They never
stay long enough in one place to
take root. And then these soapbox
agitators come along and spout
communism at Them" He looked
away, for a moment, and then
turned back to me. ssBut that fire.
eater had no right getting rough
with a woman. With woman like
you, ! mean" 49,
"Why with woman like me?" I
questioned. A..s
81 spotted you the first day out, !"
he said, "as a girl who rather want
ed to be let alone.".
81 do" ] said. But that, / felt,
might brighten him away. And I
didn't want him to 60 away. =
mean did," amended.
"You naturally don't belong
among those roughnecks. y
I'm afraid do" I told him.
''I'm north born.,' sa
That seemed to surprise him.
you've been out for quite .
timer" he suggested.
For seven long years." told
him.
"She's a great country" he said
out Of the silence. And, being north
born, agreed with him, But it's
no place for q woman" he added.
why not?" demanded. He
laughed a little at that quick chal-
lenge.
Because women want anchorage.
They're not satisfied with wildness
and roughness. And there's been .
sort of conspiracy to keep Stewards
Icebox uncivilized. It's too proud Of
its shirt-sleeve past. It's too fond Of
calling itself the last frontier and
doing things on the dime-novel basis.
It's banked too long on the bush-rat
with skillet and slab Of SOW
belly"
ssWhat's wrong with the BUSH
rat?" I demanded, remembering
that ! was the daughter Of one.
Nothing, was the deliberated re-
ply, except that he's outlived his
usefulness. That's what's the mat
ter with your country. It's too full
of grubstaked sourdoughs who GO
out on the creeks with a tomrocker
and imagine they're mining. They
scratch at the rubble and hill-cracks
for a month or two, and wash out q
poke OF dust and stay drunk for
two-thirds of the year. They're ho-
hos at heart. They do nothing for
the country. They don't even know
the meaning Of real mine work."
had seen those lone-fire wander
- -. \.