Decatur Democrat, Volume 42, Number 13, Decatur, Adams County, 9 June 1898 — Page 6

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CffiUß D’ALENE. BY HARY HALLOCK FOOTE. [Copyright, 1894. by Mai, Hallock Foote.] ■She sat in silence, and her thoughts drifted in trite phrases, and in fragments of old songs, as unguided wheels slip into old ruts of the way that the erazed or grief-blind driver goes. “Oh. hush thee, my baby: the hour may come When thy sleep shall be broken by trumpet and drum," she found herself crooning over and over senselessly to herself; but where were the trumpets and drums, that call to arms in the name of peace—the law and order music? Far from the old Mission that night, and its dark, empty sanctuary, and its helpless prisoners of labor, waiting as unconscious as sheep that have been fed and folded at dusk to be harried at midnight by a pack of masterless dogs! At about half after seven o’clock, as the story of this evening goes, a handcar, black with men. came down the track, and stopped within half a mile of Mission station. The number of men on the car is not known. It is supposed that they were assisted by others who were expecting them at the Mission; and these men, so it is said, were armed with Winchesters sent down on the prisoners’ train. But all were armed, in one way or another, with weapons furnished by the Miners’ union of the Coeur d’Alene, or by their brothers of Butte. The hand-car brigade ran down the track on both sides, and opened fire upon the surprised groups at the station. One or two of them went through the cars that stood upon the track, shouting to the "scabs” within: “Git out of here, you ” There was never a word too bad for a "scab.” They were likewise driven forth from the shelter of the hotel by the prudent landlord, whose windows were being smashed by bullets. The hounds were loud in the mouth, but the sheep were silent and ran. Some of them ran across the track, and jumped into the river; some struggled desperately through the long grass of the Mission meadows. The cool-headed ones hid in the grass, or crept into the bushes, or made their way along the shore in the shelter of the river bank. Os the fate of those who fled up into the wild defile called Fourth of July canyon much has been asserted and denied on both sides, but little will ever be known; thecanyon and the river have been deeply questioned, but they bear no witness, and they tell no tales.

Faith sat beside her unconscious sleeper, listening to the sounds which reported ail that she ever knew of those incredible scenes that have gone dow n ou the annals of this region as "the massacre of Fourth of July canyon.” Her senses were blunted, her mind refused to act; her heart crushed the life out of her with its beating. Now was the time to say good-by—-not the potential good-by she had bidden him an hour ago, but the actual parting, at the brink of the river of death. Many were crossing the. dark waters to the city of refuge who would never return. She bent over her sleeper, and kissed him softly, but the sob that forced her heart against his aroused him. and he spoke to her suddenly in his natural voice: “God bless me!" he murmured, while she held her breath in horror of his coming to himself at this fatal moment. “I thought that you kissed me! I must be dreaming. Oh, let it be true! Faith, dear, make it true before I lose you again.” “It is true," said the girl hoarsely, “and nothing else is true—nothing. I will never doubt you; I never did doubt you. Now go to sleep! Good night, dear; good night!” He held his breath and looked at her keenly. "Y'our lips are cold; your hands are cold. Why are you saying good night?" “The boat is late," said Faith in a hol-

low voice. “We cannot go till the boat comes. You are sick: rest now—do rest; this is your only chance!" She put her hands upon him, with soft, shuddering touches, trying with all the strength of her love to master her fear, that she might have power to lull him into obliviousness of the awful sounds of the night. Under the trees it was quite dusk; he could set' nothing, but she felt that he was listening. “What is that tiring?” “Only some men,” gasped Faith. “But what are they shooting at?" "Shooting? Oh, at a mark." "Oh, I say! in the dark!” laughed Darcie softly. He was drifting off again, as his speech betrayed. "Are they drunk? What are they shouting about?" "It's the other men who are shouting.” Faith lied to him, feebly. "What other men? Is this a stag picnic? O Lord! O Faith, dear!” Faith hardly knew what he was saying. but she welcomed any wildness, profanity—anything but his own low, steady tones. “Be quiet. Darcie, dear!” she whispered. “Darcie, dear!" he repeated, foolishly. “God bless me. but this is nice—what a sweet girl you are! Heavens! w tat a brute I was! Are you ever going to be friends with me again?" He nestled his sick head close to her lap, contentedly, and gave himself up to the exquisite sense of her cold, soft touch moving over his hand in the dark. “‘Mother of Grace, the pass is difficult!’" whispered the tortured girl. It was the mother instinct, which can look on death, that taught her calmness at this moment, and gave her strength to exert her love, else one of nature's miracles was wrought; for out of the anguish of her deadly fear came supreme rest to him she loved, and Darcie slept.; His hand slipped from hers, lower and lower, and touched the sand; softly she saved the contact from distnrbing him He sighed, and breathed more deeply; he was gone, even beyond his consciousness of her. She moved a trifle, cautiously; drew away her dress, and noiselessly raised herself upon her knees. All along the shore she seemed to hear stealthy footsteps and furtive, leafy rustlings, as of 3 hunter stalking big game. The r'tfpid firing had ceased, but scattering shots came infrequently. One at a time, from a distance. Step by step she moved a little way past the bushes and looked out. Overhead the clouds were blown in wild masses; the stars in the dark blue lakes of sky between winked peacefully, while the torn and flying cloudsignals altered from moment to moment. So did the peace of heaven abide this senseless, passing hour, that proved nothing, changed nothing, simply added its score to the wrong side, the side of human passion, which must miss the mark a thousand times before one true aim shall raise the record a little higher as the centuries pass. Faith was quieted; she had reached the limit of emotional fear, and now a species of insensibility crept over her —the reaction after the shock. She wondered why she could not feel as she ought the peril of all those other men who were strangers to her affection. Where was Mike —always rash with himself? Was he safe? And how was it with the honest Cassons —the wife wait- I ing with her little sleepy brood about her. to learn perhaps that they were fatherless ? She started back from her relaxed outlook and hid herself as a man came running, like one pursued, out from a group of black birch trees that stood together shivering in an open windy space. He ran uncertainly, this way and that, as if crazed with fear. His dog-hearted pursuer covered him with deliberate aim. It was pitiful to see him waver •between the chances of the river and of the broken plain below. He was exhausted wih running; his chest labored in hard, painful gasps; his legs were giving under him. The next moment he stumbled and fell. The "scab” hunter came up and turned him over with his foot, keeping the muzzle of Lis rifle close to his chest. He said something brief, which Faith did not hear. The man never spoke, but threw out his hands expressively on the sod. The other searched his clothes and took all that he had in money or small valuables and, stirring him with his foot, said: "Git —git cut from here! I’ll give you till I count 60.”

The hunted man sprang up and ran. Once he turned his head over his shoulder, and saw- his pursuer following him with cool aim. He plunged into the bushes, cleared the bank and splashed into the river. The man with the rifle stood on the bank and waited. Faith could have touched him where he stood. He w atched till the swimmer’s head show ed plainly beyond the shoreward shadow, a dark spot parting the current in midstream; then a bullet went clipping through the wild-rose thicket. The black spot turned toward the light; it was the man's face; he was taking his last look at the sky; his hands went up; he sank—and a coil of ripples unwound in widening circles toward the chore. The hunter of “scabs” stood still a moment while the smoke of his rifle ga CT! .■ Wt' fey JT f . "8m here now: I don't wan-, to put ma band: on you ’

drifted away among the trees. Then he set his feet upon the river bank, slid down, and stooped at the river s brink. He laid his face to the water and drank; and the river did not refuse to quench his thirst. Faith crept back to her place; her sleeper still slept. The man by the river turned her way. and set his feet again upon the bank. She slipped the mantle from her shoulders, and laid it, as soft as the rose of silence, upon Darcie’s face. The silk-lined folds settled into place; he did not move. So he had looked when she had thought him dead. She clasped her hands upon her knees, and bent her head upon them. Steps came up the bank and paused close beside her; she merely breathed. There was silence; then a voice said: , “Who is your man, my dear?" She did not answer. Dan Rafferty studied the two figures attentively a moment. "Is this you. Miss Bingham? and our folks lookin’ for you high and low! And who’s this party you are hidin’ out with ?’’ Faith raised her hand, but she did not speak. “Show me his face! What's the matter with him?” Rafferty made a step for- ; ward. “Keep your hands off the dead!” said Faith. “Dead, is he? I don’t think you can play that with me. If he's dead, it’ll not harm him to show his face.” “There is a dead man whose face you will see in the day you go to meet your God!" Faith pointed to the river. She had risen, and placed herself between Rafferty and her sleeper; and was aware that Darcie was stirring, and her flesh rose in horror; she had no hope, only to postpone the moment of discovery. "I know you. Rafferty,” said the desperate girl. "I will bear witness against you. if you dare come one step nearer. Coward! you todk his money, and then you took his life!” “Come, now, that’s no way for a lady to talk! I want to see who’s your best feller. Pull that thing off his face! I bet I know who it is. Don’t I know , them English shoes? Well, if you won’t, then stand aside. See here, now; 1 I don’t want to put me hands on you.” , "Ah!” cried Faith, simply shudder- ' ing at him. Rafferty gave a hoarse laugh. “Come off the nest now. me little chicken! It’s your own doin’s if I have to hurt . you.” Suddenly Faith felt that she was free. I Rafferty had loosed her, and stood listening. “Quit that!” came Mike’s great battle roar. “Put up your bloody hands! I have the drop on ye.” Rafferty had not been the last to perceive that this was true. It settled the situation between him and Mike once more, and for the last time. Mike walked slowly forward, hurling taunts at his old enemy: “Chuck me your weepins, Raffy, me i boy. Y’ou'H not want them where : you'll be goin’ shortly; you’ll not be huntin’ scabs in Boise City.” At the mention of Boise, which is the city of approximate justice and of occasional punishment, Rafferty gavej Mike a bitter look; but he offered no , retort. “I hope the climate will agree with ye,” Mike proceeded. "I hear it’s a nobby buildin', the Pen, an’ the boys is doin’ a little gard’nin'. Ye’ll make a fine gard’ner,Rafferty; Idoubtye'llturn ' out a pious fraction of a man.” As he came opposite to the spot where ; his prisoner stood, Mike raised his rifle and lowered his head, and suddenly he ! opened cry, like one mad schoolboy de- i fying another: “Run. Rafferty, me bould boy!” he I yelled. "The scabs is after ye! Get a | move on you! Shake it up, man! Hit j the road!” and as Rafferty ran. Mike, | roaring with laughter, leaped upon the top of the bank, and sent his big voice after the fugitive: "The boat is in, Rafferty! And the , throops is on board! That's right. I'm I tellin' ye! The throops is on board! I They're flyin’ light two comp’nies from Sherman, an' Gin’ral Carlin in com- j mand. Will ye try the river, or will ye try the canyon? Tell the boys if yemeet 'em that martial law—is out —in the Cor I de Lane!" Long after Rafferty was clean out of hearing Mike continued to disperse his ; soul in barbaric hoots and howls, till • Darcie. raising on his elbow to listen for another sound, bade him hold his infernal riot. A quarter of a mile away the troops were disembarking. The orders de- ' manded a quiet landing, but Mike had heard the roll call on board the boat be- , fore she touched the shore. And now i the tramp of feet could plainly be dis- 1 tinguished treading the deck of the wharf-boat; now they were mustering on the ground. Two by two, in columns of twos, the companies were marching as one man. Steady, through the night, on came the solid,cadenced tread. As sharp as pistol shots rang the words of command. The white stripes, the steel points, gleamed through the trees. Silence; and “piercing sweet.” O voice of rescue in the dark distance, the bugles sounded: "Attention!”

It sent the blood to the hearts of all who heard that midnight call. Darcie thrilled, and was himself again in that moment of strong excitement. Faith broke down like a child, and wept. A word at last had been spoken to which even anarchy, red-handed, paused to listen. That brief order would carry through the night; it would fly from camp to camp through the mountain gorges, and every man who caught but the echo of that word would understand. Those who will not heed the voice of law, or soften to the stiller voice of kindness, must pause at last when the bugle sounds: “Attention!” There was no “weddin’ in Spokane,” as Mike had generously predicted; but there was a doctor in Spokane, which was more to the immediate purpose.

The wedding was some months later, when the war Was over, and the trials were over, and the technicalities of the law had done much to retract the ringing lesson which the clear-voiced bugles taught. The mines had resumed: Mr? Frederick Bingham had "resigned." and was investigating the Keeley cure; and Darcie Hamilton was sent over as manager of the Big Horn, this time he did stop in New York long enough to protect his claim to the virgin lode he had located, under trying circumstances. the previous summer in the Coeur d'Alene. (The name of it was not the Black Dwarf.) But the complications between that early, rash location and the subsequent patent under law would make another story, with a very different The family' discussions, in Darcie’s opinion, were far worse than any miners’ war. He never knew on which side his best friend would turn up. His mother, for instance, was inflexibly aguinst him. while his father, the most positive of men. was inclined —especially after seeing Faith’s picture —to look upon the young man’s adventures in the Coeur d’Alene as very much what

i might have been expected, so why make ' a row about a thing that was a mistake all around? Darcie by no means con- ■ sidered that any of it was a mistake; but if his father chose to call it so, and to give his consent to his wishes on that I understanding, be was willing to yield the point, in name. But Faith declinetl j to go to England, into a family that gave her so cold a welcome. Therefore Darcie came to America as manager of the Big Horn, and the intrepid young | pair went westward on their conquering way, and left age and opposition bei hind them. And if they have disap-1 pointed each other’s high expectations of happiness, the fact has not as yet transpired to the knowledge of their relatives. ! Faith celebrates in her letters the wonderful wild flowers of the Coeur d’Alene, the grandeur of its mountains, the softness of its sudden spring. Other persons maintain that the spring has ' been very late in the Coeur d’Alene this year. Her aunts wonder if the climate i has changed. Something’ has changed, the girl has found her heart of youth | again, and with it the courage to be glad. The premature, crushing experiences of the year before, its shocks , and shameful surprises, have taken i their due place in relation to larger experiences and more vital discoveries. , She has parted with one sacred illusion. | but she is fortified against that irreparable loss by a deeper knowledge of life and its inevitable shortcomings. i Ci renter joy than hers no woman, she i believes, has ever known. She cannot look to have all the joys, and all the strengths, of a woman’s perilous life of , the affections. Her mother she lost before she ever ■ knew her. A father she never had; he : died the spiritual death, before his child was born. The body of Frederick Bingham still walks the earth, but his soul I will never be cured by the Keeley or any . other mundane cure; it expired toe long ago. When the will is dead, the 1 man is dead. His children can only mourn him, and pay what respect they I may to the dreary remains. Darcie has his enemies in the Coeur d’Alene, but he has also his stanch 1 friends. Mike is foreman of the Big . Horn in place of Peter Banning, de-I I posed; and Kitty Tyler, now Kitty McGowan, makes the surly Big Horn i kitchen a realm of perpetual sunshine. She is spoiling her young mistress for ; whosoever her successor may be when j she and Mike go to housekeeping in the | fall. THE END. SYNOPSIS. CHAPTER I.—Bingham (manager of Big Horn mine) and his daughter, overtaken by storm, stop for shelter at the Black Dwarf, a prospect tunnel operated by Jack I Darcie (a young Englishman) and Mike Mc- ; Gowan. The father, having been drinking ■ heavily, falls into a stupor in the warm cabin, and Darcie aecompanies Faith tc ; the Big Horn. CHAPTER IT—Darcie hints to Faith at ! what he styles his “equivocal position." i from which some strikers who overhear ' the remark jump to conclusion he Is a spy or reporter. He also says he has found in | her his "mountain lily.” CHAPTER 111 —Mike airs his grievances • against labor unions in general and tells ■ Darcie of some of the common scandal con-1 ■ cernin? Bingham, to the effect that he is • not only a "soaker,” a coward and incapable, but a thief and swindler as well. CHAPTER IV.—Darcie receives notice! from strikers to leave the neighborhood. Abby Steers (Bingham’s housekeeper) gives | Mike a message for Darcie “from her he called the mountain lily” to meet her at an I appointed placeTuesday night at 11 o’clock. Mike Is suspicious of genuineness of mes- , sage. CHAPTER V.—War (man about the ! house, a Chinaman) r veals to Faith plot 1 of Abby Steers and certain strikers to en- j | trap Darcie. i CHAPTER Vl.—Darcie goes to keep his . i "tryst.” but is met by a volley of bullets,! one of which pierces his arm. Faith comes • upon the scene and has him taken to the I Big Horn. Wan. cleaning Darcie’s blood-; stained coat, comes upon a letter in a blue j envelope, which he surrenders to Abby. CHAPTER Vll.—Darcie asks the doctor to mail a letter for him, which Faith brings from his room. He asks also in alarm for another letter, which he meant to destroy. Faith fails to find it. CHAPTER Vlll.—Bingham, just coming t out of a spree, gets his first account of the shooting affair from Abby, who gives him the letter found in Darcie’s pocket. It was addressed to the president of company operating the Big Horn, and contains various charges against Bingham, recommending I that mine be shut down temporarily and all j men (except the doctor and including manager) be discharged, signed bv “John Darcie Hamilton.” Bingham charges Faith with sympathizing with and harborin? a spy. and produces the letter. Meeting her later. Darcie gets only such an incoherent explanation for her cold conduct as leaves him to suspect she had opened his letter to satisfy her doubts concerning him. CHAPTER IX.—The doctor, fearing strikers would use violence against Darcie puts him and Mike in hiding in his own cellar. CHAPTER X. —lt Is learned that strikers suspicions as to Darcie being a spy have been confirmed from contents of the lost letter. The doctor thereupon plans for Immediate departure of the two refugees and of Faith also. CHAPTER XI — Wan. whv conducts Darcie to his hiding place. Is tortured to death by strikers for not revealing it. Xll.—Faith, under protection i or the miners, leaves on a train with some “ e P°rted "scabs.” She reaches the Mission and watches anxiously for Darcie and Mike i to meet her. j MOORE'S p ° u . L S y ..? E .’! EDV exclusive Poultry Remedy ertant. it positively cures eh< lera std gapes also Increases the pioductlon ct eggs. Price | 25 cis. Su.d everywhere.

How Relief Came. This is the sequel of a terrible calamity which affected many sections of the country some years ago. J Atw/ of victims suffered disease and death. The survivors have now a new reason to rejoice.

About seven years ago the La Grippe visited various sections of the country in its deadly might scattering disease and death among its hosts of victims. Most of those afflicted who escaped death then, have lived on in suffering, broken in health and ambition; for the after-effects of this disease are dangerous. A large portion of the survivors have a feeling of oppression in the chest. A little exertion causes a violent action 9f the heart, described as “palpitation. There is mental anxiety, depression, blueness of the skin, indicating impaired circulation of the blood. The sluggishness of its circulation impairs the functions of most of the organs; the stomach and intestines fail to perform their work, while the appetite and digestion become seriously affected. This complaint has baffled eminent physicians and exhausted the results of pharmacopoeia. Recently, however, a means for a cure has been obtained. Among those who have been restored to health by it is Herman H. Eveler, of 811 W. Maki Street, Jefferson, a resident of that city for thirty-eight years, well known as a successful contractor. He was one of the victims of the “Grippe” seven years ago and has since been troubled with its after-effects. “ That he lives to-day," he says, is due to a remarkable occurrence. “ I was taken with a malady just after the “Grippe’’visited this section and caused so

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many fatalities about seven vein ‘ 1 was troubled with palpitation of the heart and a bility. My back also pained ' ll I tried different doctors and areH?’ followed their directions, but no ft was apparent I used numerous that were highly recommended b? satisfactory results were obtained. ” “ I bevan to give up all hop-: of re aiv a, relief. My condition was deplorable. ™ In reading a St. Louis newi MDC . t noticed an article extolling Dr T.li; ■ Pink Pills for Pale People. , “ A ,‘ U I 'P ak ‘ ng “ < l ulnes yarding tha. I concluded to give the pills a thorough w I used the first box and was wondethju relieved.

“ I bought two more boxes and cootie taking them. ’ A marked improvement wu n. noticeable; the shortness of breath, the nA pitation of my heart and kindred ail'X began to abate. “ After taking four boxes of these taj. [ was restored to good health. “ 1 feel like a new man now, and can tna. act my business with increased ambrioo." To add strength to his story Mr, Eve® made affidavit before Notary Public Adm Poutsrong and be will gladly answer ffl . quiries to those enclosing stamp foe rephThe reason that Dr. Williams' Pink Pili for Pale People are helpful tn such casein this, is that they are composed of vegetable remedies which act directly on the lapm blood, the foundation of disease.

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