The Shawnee Daily News-Herald (Shawnee, Okla.), Vol. 19, No. 97, Ed. 1 Tuesday, December 30, 1913 Page: 3 of 8
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TUESDAY EVENING, DECEMBER 30, 1913.
THE SHAWNEE DAILY NEWS-HERALD
A Man in
the Open
By
Roger Pocock
lUustrationa by
Ellsworth Young
a
SYNOPSIS.
PART ONE.
CHAPTER I—The story opens with
•Jesse Smith relating the story of htg
tMrth, his early life in Labrador and of
the death of his father.
CHAPTER II—Jess., becomes a sailor.
His mother marries the master of tha
■hip and both are lost In the wreck of
the vessel.
CHAPTER IV—He marries Polly, a
irtng-er of questionable morals, who later
Is reported to have committed suicide.
CHAPTER V—Jesse becomes a rancher
and move* to British Columbia.
CHAPTER V.
Tha Burning Bush.
Amdng the Indians, before a boy
■gets rated warrior, he goes alone afoot,
naked, starvin' thirsty, way off to the
back side of the desert. Thar he Just
waits, suns, weeks, maybe a whole
moon, till the Big Spirit happens to
•catch his eye. Then the Big Spirit
shows him a stick, or a stone, or any
sort of triflin' comfnon thing, • which
is to be his medicine, his wampum,
the charm which guards him, hunt
ing, or in war.
Among them Bible Indians you'll iV
member a feller called Moses, out at
the back side of the desert, seen the
'Big Spirit in a burning bush. Later
ihis tribe set up a medicine lodge, and
the hull story's mighty natural.
This Indian life explains a lot to
men like me.
Many find peace in death, only a
few in life, and I found peace thar in
the wilderness, the very medicine of
torn souls, fresh from the hand of the
Almighty Father.
And I found wealth. Seems there's
many persons mistaking dollars for
some sort of wealth. I've had a few
at times by way of samples, the things
which you're apt to be selfish with,
or give away to buy self-righteousness.
Reckoning with them projuces the
feeling called poverty. They Ye the
very stuff and substance of meanness,
and no man walks straight-loaded.
Dollars gets lost, or throwed away,
or left to your next of kin, but they're
not a good and lasting possession. I
like 'em, too.
I found peace, I found wealth, yes,
and found something more thar in the
"wilderMsa. Sweet as the cactus for-
est in blossom down Salt River is
that big memory.
It was after I'd found the things
of happy solitude. I'd gone to work
then for the Bar Y outfit, breaking
the Lightning colts. We was out a
few weeks from home, taking an out-
fit of ponies as far as the Mesa Abaho,
and one night camped at the very rim-
rock of the Grand Canyon. The Na-
vajo Indians was peevish, the camp
dry, grass scant, herd in a raffish
mood, and night come sudden.
I'd just relieved a man to get his
supper, and rode herd wide alert. I
scented the camp smoke, saw the
spark of fire glow on the boys at rest,
and heard their peaceful talk hushed
in the big night. They seemed such
triflin' critter^ full of fuss since dawn
so small as insects at the edge of
nothin', while for miles boneath us
that old, old wolfy Colorado River was
playing the Grand Canyon like a fid-
dler. But the river in the canyon
seemed no more than trickle in a
crack, hushed by the night, while over-
head the mighty blazing stars—point,
swing, and drive, rode herd on the
milky way. And that seemed no more
than cow-boys driving stock. Would
HEAD THIS.
We, the undersigned Druggists ol
diiawnee, bavp sold Hall's Texas
Wonder, of 2^2b Olive St., St Louis.
Mo., and recommend it to be thi
best Kldnej. Bladder and Rheumatl<
Remedy we have ever sold. 81xt)
days treatment for m dollar.
Wallace Mann, Lion Drug Co.,
Shawnee Drug Co., Owl Drug Store
0. R. Harryman and Crescent Drug
Co.
High prices paid ror second hand
clothes. We call for them. Tele-
phone 135-J., 206 E. Main. 11-4-lm
Mrs. George Meek and two little
sons of Westville, are visiting Mr.
and Mrs. W. G. Becker, 723 North
Park
Mattress Renovating
Done Promptly
Phone 191 J. 19 W. Farrell
God turn His head to see His star
herds pass, or notice our earth like
some lame calf halting in the rear?
And what am I, then?
That was my great lesson, more
gain to me than peace and wealth of
mind, for I was humbled to the dust
of earth, below that dust of stars. So
a very humble thing, not worth pray-
ing for, at least I could be master of
Jiyself. I rode no more for wages, but
cut out my ponies from the Lightning
herd, mounted my stud horse William,
told the boys goodby at Montecello,
and then rode slowly north Into the
British possessions. So I come at last
to this place, an old abandoned ranch.
There's none so poor in dollars as to
envy ragged Jeese, or rich enough to
want to rob my home. They say
there's hidden wealth whar the rain-
bow goes to earth—that's whar I live.
PART TWO
CHAPTER I.
Two Ships at Anchor.
Kate't Narrative.
My horse was hiftigry, and wanted
to get back to the ranch. I was hun-
gry too, but dared not go. I had left
my husband lying drunk on the kit-
chen floor, and when he woke up it
would be worse than that.
For miles I had followed the edge
of the bench lands, searching for the
place, for the right place, some point
where the rocks went sheer, twelve
hundred feet into the river. There
must be nothing to break the fall, no
risk of being alive, of being taker
back there, of seeing him again. But
the edge wae never sheer, and per-
haps, after all, the place by the Soda
Spring was best There the trail from
the ranch goes at a sharp turn, over
the edge of the cliffs and down to the
ferry. Beyond there are three great
pines on a headland, and the cliff is
sheer for at least five hundred feet.
That should be far enough.
I let my horse have a drink at the
spring, then we went slowly on over
the soundless carpet of pine needles.
I would leave my horse at the pises.
Somebody was there. Pour laden
pack-ponies stood in the shade of the
trees, switching their tails to drive
away the flies. A fifth, a buckskin
mare, unloaded, with a bandaged leg,
stood in the sunlight. Behind the
nearest tree a man was speaking. I
reined my horse. "Now you, Jones,"
he was saying to the injured beast,
"you take yo'self too serious. You
ain't goin' to Heaven? No! Then
why pack yo' bag? Why fuss?"
I had some silly idea that the man,
if he discovered me, would know what
business brought me to this headland.
I held my breath.
His slow, delicious, Texan drawl
made me smile. I did not want to
smile. The mare, a very picture of
misery, lifted her bandaged, frightfully
swollen leg, and hobbled into the
shade. I did not want to laugh, but
why was she called Jones? She
looked Just like a Jones.
"The inquirin' mind," said the man
behind the tree, "has gawn surely
astray from busfhess, or you'd have
know'd that rattlers smells of snake.
Then I asks—why paw?"
The mare, with her legs all
astraddle, snorted in his face.
"Sugar is it? Why didn't you say
so befo'?"
Jones turned her good eye on the
man as though she had just discovered
his existence, hobbled briskly after
him while he dug in his kitchen boxes,
made first grab at the eugar bag, and
got her face slapped. The man, always
with his eye upon the mare, returned
to his place, and sat on his heel as be-
fore. "Three lumps," he said, hold-
ing them one by one to be snatched.
"You're acting sort of convalescent,
Jones. No more sugar. And don't
be a hawg!"
The mare was kissing his face.
"Back of all! Back water! Thar
now, thank the lady behind me!"
And I had imagined my presence
etlll unknown.
"How on earth," I gasped, "did you
know I was here?"
The man's eyes were still intent
upon the wounded mare. "Wall, Mrs.
Trevor," he drawled.
"You know my name? Your back
has been turned the whole time!
You've never seen me in your life—
at least I've never seen you!"
"That's so," he answered thought*
fully. "I don't need tellin' the sound
of that colt yo' husband bought from
me. As to the squeak of a lady's pig-
skin saddle, thar ain't no other lady
rider short of a hundred and eighty-
three and a half miles."
What manner of man could this be?
THREW
made the table-ware for one, enough
to serve two people. But a womitn
would not clean a frying-pan by burn-
ing it and throwing on cold water. He
sprinkled flour on a ground sheet
and made dough without wetting the
canvas. Would I like bread, or slap-
jacks, or a pie? He made a loaf of
bread, in a frying pan set on edge
among glowing coals, and, wondering
how a pie could possibly happen with-
out the asslstai.ce of an. oven, I forgot
all about that cliff.
The thing I had intended was a
crime, and conscience-stricken, I
dreaded lest he should speak. I could
not bear that. Already his camp was
cleaned and in order, his pipe filled
and alight, at any moment he might
break the restful silence. That's wh,v
I spoke, and at random, asking if he
were not from the Unltea States.
His eyes said plainly, "So that's the
game, eh?" His broad smile said,
"Well, we'll play." He sat down,
cross-legged. "Yee," he answered, "I'm
"Sugar, Is It? Why Didn't Ye Say
So Before?"
an American citizen, except," he added
softly, "on election days, and then,"
he cocked up one shrewd* eye, "I'm
sort of British. Canadian? No, I
cayn't claim that either, coming from
the Labrador, for that's Newf'nland, a
day's march nearer home.
"Say, Mrs. Trevor, you don't know
my name yet It's Smith, and with
my friends I'm mostly Jesse."
"If you please, may I be one of your
friends V'
"If I behave good, you may. No
harm in my trying."
The moment Jesse Smith had given
me his name, I knew him well by rep-
utation. Comments by Surly Brown,
the ferryman, and my husband's bitter
hatred had outlined a dangerous char-
acter. Nobody else lived within a
day's Journey.
"That's my home," said Jesse. "D'ye
see a dim trail jags down that upper
cliff? That's whar I drifted my ponies
down when I came from the States.
I didn't know of the wagon road from
Hundred Mile House to the ferry,
which runs by the north end of my
ranch."
j "And tfce tremendous grandeur of
: the place?"
"Hum. I don't claim to have been
knocked all in a heap with the scen-
ery. No. What took holt of me good
and hard was the cempany—a silver
top b'ar and hie missus, both thou-
sand pounders, with their three young
ladies, now mar'ied and settled beyond
the sky-line. There's two couples of
prime eagles still camps along thar
by South Cave. The timber wolf I
trimmed out because he wasted around
like a remittance man. Thar was a
stallion and his harem, this yere fool
Jones beln' one of his young mares.
Besides that, there was heaps of 111'
friendly folks in fur, hair, and feath-
ers. Yes, I have been right to home
since I located."
"But grizzly bears? How frightful!"
"Yes. They was frightened at first
The coarse treatment they gets from
hunters, makes them sort of bashful
with any stranger."
"But the greatest hunters are afraid
of them."
"The biggest criminals has got most
scare at police. B'ars has no use for
sportsmen, nor me neither. My rifle's
heaps fiercer than any b'ar, and I've
chased more sportsmen than 1 has
grizzlies."
/'Wasn't Mr. Trevor one of them?"
Jesse grinned.
"Toll me," I said, for the other side
of the story must be worth hearing.
^ "Wall, Mr. Trevor took out a sum-
My co't was drawing toward him "all i mln*lag'n ,or'cha8lp* hlm off W
the time as though a magnet pulled.
He stood facing me, the bag'still In
his hand, and my colt asking pointed-
ly for sugar. Very tall, gaunt, deeply
tanned, perhaps twenty-five years of
age, he seemed to me immeasurably
old, so deeply lined was his face. And
yet it was the face of one at peace. I
had been away since daybreak, and
now the sun was entering the west.
As to my purpose, that I felt could
wait. •
So I sat under the pines, pretending
to nurse Jones while the shadows
lengthened over the tawny grass, and
orange needles flecked fields of rock,
out to the edge of the headland.
The man unsaddled my horse, un-
loaded his ponies, fetched water from
the spring of natural Apollinaris, but
when, coming back, he found me light-
ing a fire, he begged me to desist, to
rest while he made dinner. And I
was glad to rest, thinking about the
peace beyond the edge of the head-
land. Yet it was interesting to see
how a man keeps house In the wilder-
ness, and how different are his ways
from those of a woman. No housewife
could have been more daintily clean,
or shown a swifter skill, or half the
ranch. He got fined for having no gun
license, and no dawg license, and not
paying his poll-tax, and Cap Taylor
bound him over to keep the peace. I
ain't popular now with Mr. Trevor,
whereas he got ofT cheap. Now, if
them b'ars could shoot—"
I hadn't thought of that "Can they
be tamed?" I asked.
"Men can be gentled, and they needs
taming (nost Thar was three grizzlies
sort of adopted a party by the name
of Capen Adims, and camped an<l
traveled with him most familiar. Once
them rour vagrants promenaded on
Market Street in 'Frisco. Not that I
holds with this Adams In misleading
his b'ars among man-smell so strong
and dlstrackful to their peace of mind.
But still I reckon Capen Adams and
me sort of takes after each other. I'm
only attractive to animals."
"Oh, surely!" I laughed.
But Jesse became quite dismal. "I'm
not reckoned," he bemoaned himself,
"among the popular attractions. The
neighbors shies at oomlng near my ,
ranch."
"Well, if you protect grizzlies and !
hunt sportsmen, surely it's not surpris-
ing."
Ing. Yes. Come to think of it, I re-
member oncet a Smithsonian grave
robber comes to inspeck South Cave,
i He said I'd got a bono yard of ancient
people, and he'd rob graves to find
out all about them olden times. He
1 wanted to catch the atmosphere of
them days, so I sort of helped. Rob-
bing graves ain't exactly a holy voca-
tion, the party had a m an eye, a Ger-
man name, and a sort of patronizing
manner, but still I helped around to
get him atmosphere, me and Eph."
"Who's Eph?"
"Oh, he's Just a stlrer-tip, whet sci-
entific parties calls ursus horrlbllis
ord. You Just cast your eye whar the
trickle stream falls below my cabin.
D'ye see them sarvis berry bushes
down below the spray?"
"Wnere tne bushes are waving? Oh,
look, there's a gigantic grizzly stand-
ing up, and pulling the branches!"
"Yes, that's Eph.
"Well, as I was tellin' you, Eph and
me is helping this scientific person to
set the atmosphere of them ancient
♦imes."
"But the poor man would die of
fright!"
"Too busy running. When he reached
Vancouver, he was surely a cripple
though, and no more use to science,
j Shall I call Eph?"
"I think not to-day," said I, hurriedly
rising, "for indeed I should be getting
home at once."
Without ever touching the wound,
he had given me the courage to live,
had made my behavior of the morning
seem that of a silly schoolgirl; but
still I did not feel quite up to a social
introduction. I said I was sure that
Eph and I would have no interests in
common.
"So you'll go home and face the mu-
sic?" said Jesse's wise old eyes.
"My husband," said I, "w'll be get-
ting quite anxious about me."
Without a word he brought my
horse and saddled him.
And I, with a sinking heart, con-
trasted the loneliness and the horror
which was called my "home" with all
the glamour of this man's happy Boli-
tude.
He held the stirrup for me to mount
offered his hand.
"Do you never get hungry," I asked,
"for what's beyond the horizon?"
He sighed with sheer relief, then
turned, his eyes seeing infinite dis-
tances. "Why, yes! That country
beyond the sky-line's always calling.
Thar's something I want away off, and
I don't know what I. want."
"That land beyond the sky-line's
called romance."
He clenched his teeth. "What does
a ship want when she strains at an-
chor? What she wants is drift. And
I'm at anchor because I've sworn off
drift."
At that w© parted, and I went slow-
ly homeward, up to my anchor. Dear
God! If I might drift!
CHAPTER II.
The Trevor Accident.
N. B.—Mr. Smith, while living alone^
had a habit of writing long letters to
his mother. After his mother's death
the habit continued, but as the let-
ters could not be sent by mall, and
to post them in the stove seemed to
suggest unpleasant ideas, they were
stowed in his raddle wallets.
Dear Mother in Heaven:
There's been good money in this
here packing contract, and the wad in
my belt-pouch has been growing till
Doctor McGee suspecks a tumor. He
thinks I'll let him operate, and sure
enough that would reduce the swell-
ing.
Once a week I take my little pack
outfit up to the Sky-line claim for a
load of peacock copper. It runs three
hundred dollars to the ton in horn
silver, and looks more like jewels than
mineral. Iron Dale's cook, Mrs. Jub-
bin, rune to more species of pies and
cake than even Hundred Mile house,
and after dinner I get a rim-fire cigar
which pops like a cracker, while I sit
in front of the scenery and taste the
breath of the enow mountains. Then
I load the ponies, collects Mick out
of the cook house, whlcb he's partial
to for bones, Iron slings me the mail-
pouch, and I hits the trail. I aim to
make good bush grass in the yellow
pines by dusk, and the second day
brings me down to Brown's Ferry,
three miles short of my home. From
the ferry there's a good road In win-
ter to Hundred Mile House, so I tots
the cargoes over there by .sleigh.
There my contract ends, because Tear-
ful George takes on with his string
team down to the railroad. I'd have
that contract, too, only Tearful Is a
low-livpd sort of a person, which can
feed for a dollar a week, whereas
when I get down to the railroad I'm
more expensive.
Your affectionate Bon, JESSE.
Rain-storm coming.
P. 8.—Yes, it's a good life, and I
don't envy no man. Still it made me
sort of thoughtful last time as I swung
along with that Jones mare snuggling
at my wrist, little Mick snapping rear
heels astern, and the sun Just scorch-
ing down among the pines. Women is
Infrequent and spite of all my expe-
riences with the late Mrs. Smiths-
most fortunate deceased, life ain't all
complete without a mate. It ain't no
harm to any woman, mother, if I Just
varies off my trail to survey the sur-
rounding stock.
Mrs. Jubbin passes herself ofT for
a, widow, and all the boys at the mine
take notice that she can cook. Apart
from that, she's homely as a barb-wire
fence, and Bubbly Jock, her husband,
ain't deceased to any great extent, be-
ing due to finish his sentence along in
October, and handy besides with a
rifle.
Then of the three young ladles at
Eighty Mile, Sally is a sound proposi-
tion, but numerously engaged to the
ma'am, keeps a widow mother with
tongue and teeth, so them as smells
the bait is ware of the trap. That's
why Miss WUth stays single. The
other girl is a no-account young per
eon. Not that I'm the sort to shy at
a woman for squinting, the same being
quite persistent with sound morals,
but I hold that a person who
scratches herself at meals ain't never
quite the lady. She should do it pri-
vate.
There's the Widow O'Flynn on the
trail to Hundred Mile,—she's harsh,
with a wooden limb. Besides she
wants to talk old times in Abilene. 1
don't.
While I've mostly kep' away from
the married ladies, and said "deliver
us from temptation" regular every
night, there was no harm as I came
along dowu, in being sorry for Mrs.
Trevor. Women are reckoned mighty
cute at reading men, but I've noticed
when I've struck the complete polecat,
that he's usually married. So long as
a woman keeps her head she's wiser
than a man, but when she gets rattled
she's a sure fool. She'll keep her
head with the common run of men,
but when she strikes the all-round
stinker, like a horse runs into a fire,
she tips and marries him. Anyway,
Mrs. Trevor had got there.
Said to be Tuesday.
Trip before last was the first time
I seen this lady. Happens Jones reck-
oned she'd been appointed inspector
of snakes, so I'd had to lay off at the
spring, and Mrs. Trevor £omes along
to get shut of her trouble. She's hun-
gry; she ain't had anything but her
prize hawg to speak to for weeks, and
she's a8 curious as Mother Eve. any-
way.
Surely my meat's transparent by
$e way her voice struck through
among my bones. If angels speak
like her I'd die to hear. She told me
nothin', not one word about the
trouble that's killing her, but her
voice made me want to cry. If you'd
spoke like that when I was your pup-
py, you'd a had no need of that old
slipper, mother.
'Cause I couldn't tear him away
from the beef bones, I'd left Mick up
at the Sky-line, or I'd ast that lady
to accept my dog. You see. he'd bite
Trevor all-right, wharas I has to diet
myself, and my menu Is sort of com-
plete. Still by the time she stayed
in camp, my talk may have done some
comfort to that poor woman. She
didn't know then that her trouble was
only goin' to last another week.
You'd have laughed if you'd seen
Jones after she drank her fill of water
out of the bubbly spring, crowded
with soda bubbles. She Just goes hie,
tittup, hie, down the trail, changing
steps as the hiccups jolted her poor
old ribs. The mare looked bo blamed
funny that at first I didn't notice the
tracks along the road.
To Judge by the hind shoes, Mrs
Trevor's mean colt had gone down
toward the river not more'n ten min-
utes ago, on the dead run, then back
up the road at a racking out-of-breath
trot. Something must have gone
wrong, and sure enough as I neared
a point of rocks which hid the trail
ahead, Jones suddenly shied hard in
the midst of a hiccup. There was the
Widow Bear's track right acros* the
road, and Mick had to yell blue blazes
io get the other ponies past the
smell. Ahead of me the tracks of the
Trevor colt were dancing the width
of the road, buckltfg good and hard at
the stink of bear. Then I rounded
the point of rocks.
There lay Mrs. Trevqr In a heap.
Since Jones would have shied over
the tree-tops at a corpse or a whiff of
blood, I knew she'd only fainted, but
felt at her breast to make sure. I
tell you it felt like an outrage to lay
my paw on a sleeping lady, and still
worse I'd only my dirty old hat to
carry water from a seepage in the
cliff. My heart thumped when I knelt
to sprinkle the water, and when that
blamed humming-bird came whirring
past my ear, I Jumped as though the
devil had got me, splashing the hatful
over Mrs. Trevor. At that her eyes
There Lay Mrs. Trevor All In s Hea*.
opened, staring straight at my face,
but she made out a sort of smile when
she saw it was only me.
"Jesse!"
"Yes, ma'am."
"Seen my husband?"
"No, ma'am."
"I don't know what's come over
him," she moaned, clenching her
teeth; "be fired at me."
"That gun I traded him?"
"Four shots."
"You was running away when your
colt shied at the bear?"
"My ankle! Jesse, it hurts so dread-
fully. Yes. the left"
My knife ripped her riding-boot
clear. The old red bandana from my
neck made her a wet bandage, and the
boot top served for a splint. There
my Job. Between whiles she would
tell me to hurry, knowing that the re-
turn of that damned colt would' show-
Trevor which way &he'd run. I had
no weapon, so if Trevor happened
along with the .45 revolver it wouldn't
be healthy.
I couldn't leave the loads of ore on
my ponies, and if 1 got Mrs Trevor
mounted with her foot hanging down,
she'd lose time swooning. So I un-
loaded all the ponies except Jones tand
Swift, who has a big heart for travel.
Next I filled one of the rawhide pan-
niers with brush, and lashed it across
Jones' neck for a back reBt. A wad
of pine brush made a seat between
Jones' panniers where I mostly carry
my grub. Hoisting Mrs. Trevor on
to the mare's back was a pretty mean
job, but worst of all 1 had to lash her
down. For chafing gear to keep the
ropes from scorching, I had to use
my coat, shirt, and undershirt so that
when 1 mounted Swift to lead ofT, I'd
only boots and overalls, and Mrs. Tre-
vor could see I was blushing down to
my belt. Shocked? Nothing! Great
ladies doesn't shock like common
people. No, in spite of the pain-rack-
ing and ' the fear-haunting, she
laughed, and it done me good. She
said I looked like Mr. Polio Belvf
deary, a dago she'd met up with in
Italy. Dagos are Rwfne, but the way
she spoke made me proud.
Washing day after supper.
We weren't more than half-way
down to the river when we heard Tre-
vor surging and yelling astern, some-
wheres up on the bench. At that 1
broke to a trot, telling the lady to let
out a howl the moment it hurt beyond
bearing. I wonder what amount of
pain 1b beyond the bearing of real
thoroughbreds? That lady would
burn before she'd even whimper.
Nearing the ferry my Innards went
sick, for the punt was on the far
bank, the man was out of sight, and
even Jones wouldn't propose to swim
a river with a cargo of mineral and a
deck load. As we got to the door of
Brown's cabin, Trevor hove In sight.
I lep' to the ground, giving Jones a
hearty slap on flie off quarter, which
would steer her behind Brown's cab-
in; then with one jump I grabbed ol
man Brown's Winchester rifle from
its slings above the hearth, shoved
home two cartridges from the mantel,
rammed the muzzle through the win-
dow-pane, which commands a view up
the trail, and proceeded to take stock
of Mr. Trevor.
The man's eyes being Btark staring
mad, It was a sure fact he'd never
listen to argument. I waited, follow-
ing with the rifle until the horse's
shoulder widened out, giving me a
clear aim at the heart.
The hsrse finished his stride, but
while I was running to the door he
crumpled and went down dead, the
carcass sliding three yards before it
stopped. Ab to the man, he shot a
long curve down on his bacR in a
splash of dust, which looked like a
brown explosian. His revolver went
further on whirling, until a stump
touched off the trigger, and Its bullet
whined over my head.
Next thing I heard was the rapids,
like a'church organ finishing a hymn,
and Mrs. Trevor's call.
"You've killed him?"
"No, ma'am, but he's had an acci-
dent. I'll take him to the cabin for
first aid."
Trevor wan sitting up by the time
I reached h'.m. He looked sort of
sick.
"Get up." said I, remembering to
be polite In the presence of a lady.
"Get up, you cherub."
Instead of rising, he reached out a
flask from his pocket, and uncorked
to take a little nourishment. I flicked
the bottle into the river, and assisted
him to rise with my foot "My poor
erring brother," said I, "please step
this way, or I'll kick your tall through
your hat."
He Bald he wasn't feeling very well,
so when I got him into the cabin, I
let him lie on Brown's bed, lashing
him down good and hard. I gave him
a stick to bite Instead of my Angers,
which is private. "Now," said I,
"your name is Polecat. You're due
to rest right there, Mr. Polecat, until
I get the provincial constable." I
gathered from his expression that
he'd sort of taken a dislike to me.
Swift and the mare were grazing on
pine chips beside the cabin, and Mrs.
Trevor looked wonderfully peaceful.
"Your husband," said I, "Is resting."
She gave me a wry laugh, and see-
ing she was in pain, I poured water
over her foot.
"That's better," said she, "how good
you are to me!"
Old man Brown was coming across
with a punt, mighty peevish because
I'd dropped a horse carcass to rot at
his cabin door, and still worse when
he seen I had a lunatic roped in his
bunk. I gave him his Winchester,
which he set down by his door, also
a dollar bill, but he was still crowded
full of peevishness, wasting a lady's
time. At last I hustled the ponies
aboard the punt, and set the guide
iines so that we started out along the
cable, leaving the old man to come
or stay as he pleased. He came. Fact
Is, I remembered that while I took
Mrs. Trevor to my home, I'd need a
messenger to ride for doctor, nurse,
groceries, and constable. I'm afraid
old man Brown was torn some,
catching on a nail while I lifted him
Into the punt. His language was plen-
tiful.
Now I thought I'd arranged Mrs.
Trevor and Mr. Trevor and Mr.
Brown, and added up the sum so that
old Geometry himself couldn't have
figured it better. Whereas I'd left out
the fact that Brown's bunk was nailed1
careless to the wall of his cabin, as
Trevor struggled, the pegs came
adrift, the bed capsized, thi
tne pontes out of the punt, and was
instrscting Brown, when the polecat
let drive at me from across the river.
With all his faults he could shoot
good, for his first grazed my scalp,
half blinding me. At that the lady
attracted attention by screaming, so
th«> third shot stampeded poor Jones.
1 ain't religious, being only thirty,
and not due to reform this side of
rheumatism, but all the sins I've en-
Joyed was punished sudden and com-
plete in that one minute. Blind with
blood, half stunned, and reeling sick,
1 heard the mare as she plunged along
the bank dispensing boulders. No
top-heavy cargo was going to stand
that strain without coming over, so
the woman I loved—yes, I knew that
now for a fact—was going to be
dragged until her brains were kicked
out by the mare. It' seemed to me
ages before I could rouse my senses,
wipe my eyes, and mount the gelding.
When sight and sense came back, I
was riding as I had never dared to
ride in all my life, galloped Mr. Swift
Galloped Mr. Swift on Rolling Boul-
ders Steep as a Roof.
on rolling boulders steep as a roof and
all a-slither. I got Swift sldewise up
the bank to grass, raced past the
mare, then threw Swift in front of
Jones. Down went the mare just as
her load capsized, so that she and the
lady, Swift and I, were all mixed up
in a heap.
M>* little dog Mick was licking my
scalp when 1 woke, and It seemed to
me at first that something must have
gone wrong. My head was between
two boulders, with the mare's shoul-
der pressing my nose, my legs were
under water, and somewhere close
around were roaring rapids. Swift
was scrambling for a foothold, and
Mrs. Trevor shouting for all she was
worth. I waited till Swift cleared out
and the lady quit for breath.
"Yes, ma'am," says I.
"Oh, say you're not dead, Jesse!**
"Only In parts," said I, "and how
are you?"
"I'm cutting the ropes, but oh, this
knife's so blunt!"
"Don't spoil your knife. Will you
do what I say?"
"Of course I will."
"Reach out then on the off side of
the load. The end of that lashing's
fast to the after-basket line."
When I'd explained that two or
three tlmae, "I have It," she answered.
'Loose!"
"Ptill on the fore line of the dit|-
moud."
"Right. Oh, Jesse, I'm free!" *
"Kneel on the mare's head, reach
under the pannier, find the latego, and
cast off."
She fumbled awhile, and then re-
ported all clear.
"Get off the mare."
In another moment Jones was
standing up to shake herself, knee
deep in the river, and with a slap I
sent her off to Join Swift at the top
of the bank. Mrs. Trevor was sitting
on a boulder, staring out ever the
rapids, her eyes set on something
coming down mid stream. Her face
was all gray, and she clutched my
hand, holding like grim death. As for
me, I'd never reckoned that even a
madman would try to swim the Fraser
In clothes and boots.
"I can't bear it!" she cried, turning
her face away. "Tell me—**
"I guess," said I, feeling mighty
grave, "you're due to beoome a
widow."
The rapids got Trevor, and I
watched.
"You are a widow," says I, at last.
She fainted.
There, I'm dead sick of writing this
letter, and my wrist is all toothache
JESflA
(To be Continued.)
I Protect You Against Loss By
FIRE
Let me insure your dwelling
or house furnishings and wear-
ing apparel, so if you burn
out you will not lose that
which you have worked for
years to save.
A. L. Albin
PHONE 6.1. 115 N. BROADWAY
Private Mouey 10 Lead
Jn Shaw Dee Real Estate. Beat of
tei ma.
CHA8. £. WELLS
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Weaver, Otis B. The Shawnee Daily News-Herald (Shawnee, Okla.), Vol. 19, No. 97, Ed. 1 Tuesday, December 30, 1913, newspaper, December 30, 1913; Shawnee, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc92144/m1/3/: accessed June 29, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.