Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 14, Number 42, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 12 April 1884 — Page 2

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THE MAIL

A

PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.*

TERRE HAUTE, APRIL, 12,1884

A COMEDY.

.}•'They parted, with clasps of band, Ana kissed, and burning tears! They met in a foreign land

After tome twenty years. Met as acquaintances meet, 8m ling, tranaqull eyed Not even the least little beat

Of tbe heart upon either tide! They chatted of this and that, The nothing that made op life She in a Gainsborough hat,

And he In black for his wife.

Ah. what a comedy this I Neither was hnrt it appears: Yet once she bad leaned to bis kiss

tfy'

And once be had known "her team. —{Thomas Bailey Aldrlch.

BIG JACK SMALL.

During oar three years' camp life on tbe Pacific Coast, some one loaned us an old copy of tbe Overland Monthly, containing tbe story of "Big Jack Small."

It was read by one of oar company, a lady well known throughout tbe country as one of our beat publie speakers. Gathered in a picturesque group about the reader, we listened, laughed, wondered, and then voted that it was tbe best story we had ever heard. Even our Norwegian bostler declared it ••bully." Sing, our Cbinese^ook, Baid "velly good!" W

A few evenings later when seated after dinner, comfortable and sociable, under wide spreading 41 ve-oak, the bostler asked: "Can't we bev dose Big Jack some more?"

The story was read again, and we voted this time that it was the very bent story we bad ever heard.

It was read aloud in our camping party not less than twelve times in two years, and at each reading we voted that it was still better than we bad thought it the last time.

We submit this story for your judgment, hoping that you may laugh and wonder, as we always do, when listening to the quaint speculations of "Big Jack."^'-^

_v". BIO JACK SMALL. I! You do not know Big Jack Small? That is a bad omen because if you did know Big Jack Small, you would know many things which, as I think, you do not now know—for Jack would De sure to talk to you, if you met him, and in his talk he would "be qaite as sure to tell something about teaming with six or eight or ten yokes of oxen, and two or three or four great red wagons, over tbe hills, across the valleys, and through the bare rock-walled canyons of the State of Nevada.

That is his profession—ox-teamster or, as he calls it, "bull-puncher." Ndt one of your common farmer boys, who «an drive one yoke, or two or even foar yokes o2 oxen, with a long limber fishing* pole stock, and a lash that hangs down like a dead garter snake speared through tbe eyes but a regular graduate of the science of ox—a bovine persuader •with a bmlard cue whip stoek, and a lash on it like a young boa-constrictor, and a little steel spike in the lash end of tbe stock about as big as a carpet tack when it stands on its head on the point of walking oan*. With the yellow leather' lash wosnd around tbe stock, the great square braids shining like scales, as of the brazen serpent Moses set up, and the glittering steel tongue, sparkling in the sunlight, out if the serpent's head—with this usual wand in his hand, and elevated diagonally above his head, Big Jack Small will stand in the highway of the desert, the obief of tbe ox-magi while his meek-eyed and clinking-footed com* pany draw slowly round him, at tbe proper distance and with regular step, straining the great red creaking wains after them in a true eircle. "Come v? row-a-d, boys! You Turk!"sharply to the near side wheel ox, beoause an oxteamster always turns on a haw-pull unless compelled to do otherwise. "Come row-a-d, boys! Steady, now—like a

Freemason funeral!" and he elevates or depresses tbe glittering tongue of the serpent above nis head. The oxen know what.that means, and the whole long procession winds about him with mathematical precision.

That is tbe way Big Jack Small does it. He Is an artist. Why does not some brother artist go forth and canvass him? He Is worth preserving, as the ptcture of a true A me-lean, void of European or classic taint—a strong American, calm and humerous in the hardest struggles, •m through the very thrill and tickle of abundant life and pure mountain ^r.

Tall?—nor he is not so very tall. About six feet, or half an inch leas than that. •%i,' Head well set upon his shoulders, witb an inclination to one side, as if to give room for tbe big whip on the other shoulder while his soft slouched hat inclines just in the opposite directn tion, as if to equalise things and maintain a perpeudicular outline. No coat on. Woolen shirt—in winter three of them, one inside the other heavy vest buttoaed to the chin, or to somewhere & hidden coder the long flow of tbe lion* colored beard. Legs clad externally in thick white ducking or buckskin, terminating in coarse roots drawn over tbe trowien bottoms. Hands cased in rough buckskin gloves. So dressed, Big "1 Jack Small may not be a very large man but he. looks large. When be walks from you, you are impressed with the broadness of shoulders and strength of neck and loin. When he walks to%ard you, you are made conscious of the Jl coming of great thick muscles and fists, and a Ron like front and you would not il have any rash impulse to rush upon him for the fun of a little combat. Then he has a curious long springing stride—a sort of drooping and rislug upon bis thigh muscles with every step—that eugsests power though I suppose it is mere force of habit, caught in walkin across plowed ground in early life, an maintained by striding over tbe sage^brush and loose rocks In Nevada.

Big Jack Small has a head under his jelo'iSied hat, and a face that shows bettvreen his hat-brim and his beard. If lyou are not in the habit of looking at heads or faces for tbe purpose of forming your own estimate of men, it would not be worth while to took at Jack.

You might qa veil pass on. He is of no interest vou. But if you want to look •$ -inno a fiuv where the good natored of Abraham Lincoln shines *. r, -Jibed of its rongh-oarved homehj

can accost Jade when you

.• ivi uini Iking beside his winding -'•V- .!M i' tn 1 rough can von or across and ask him how the %hieb hs oatas. This in* ter running socop length of tr, V.'1 bout, "Wboa-ooa-ah, .ir iwing down the great »:«-is' «r i--v.»r the brake on his ui ti, S'

•i

Nowhss

me ofbks

on nis

will gradually stop. the sage brush in

front of yon, sets the point of his whip stock ^arefally in the fork of a bush, builds bis arms one on tow of tbe other upon tbe butt of the stock, shoves his hat on the back of his head, and says: "We-e-11, the road's nuther good nor bad. Hit's aboat from tollable to middlin'. Seen wnss an' seen better.* "How's the alkali flat?'* "Well, yer know

thar'a

two alkali flats

'tween yer*n Austin. The first one's a little waxy, an' t'other'n a little waxy, too."

Will onr horses sink down in the flats so as to impede—that is, so that we cannot get put?" "O, h—1, no. Only hard pullin' an' slow, hot worfr—sockin' through the stiff mud. I had ts uncouple air drop -wagons, an' pull an' holler an' punch round at Doth o' them flats fer two days, till my cattle looks like the devil but you can go right along, only slow though—very slow. Tbe rest o' the road's all right—no trouble." "Thank you." 5 "You're welcome." But, I say, tell me—I'm out now about two

weeks—

wbat's the news? Hev they caught them stage robbers?" "No they were not caught when we left Hamilton." "D—n 'em! Hev ye any newspapers? I'd like to have sometbin' to read when I'm campin' out on the road—a feller gets mons'ous lonesome."

By this time you have hosted out of your traps all the newspapers and parts of newspapers, and passed them over to him. "Thank ye. Gitnp, Brigham! Gee, Beecher!" The loosened lever of the brake clanks back in its ratohett, the oxen slowly strain the yokes, the great wagons groan to the tightening chains. ••®ood-by." "So-'long."

And the slow dust cloud moves onward,' musical with the strong voice encouraging "Beecher" and "Brigham," on the lead, to stiffen their necks under the yoke, as a bright example to the entire train.

You, passing on your way, say to

J'oureelf.

or companion: "What a fine

ace aad head that rough fellow has with what a relish that full, wide forebead must take in a good story, or surf vey a good dinner what a love for the sublime and the ridiculcus there must be in the broad high crown of that skull which is so full at the base! Why, the fellow has ahead like Shakespeare, and a front like Jove! What a pity to waste so grand a man in ignorance fttqong rocks and oxen 1" All of which may be a good and true regret but yon mast not forget that nature knows how to summer-fallow for her own rare products.

Yon will please to understand that Mr. Small is his own master, as well ar master and owner of that long string of. wagons and oxen and that train, which slowly passes yon, is laden with psrhaps every ofaceivable variety of valuable ar-, ticles, worth the aggregate thousands 6f dollars, for the safe conveyance thereof, over a road hundreds of miles lofcg, the owners have no security but a' receipt signed "John Small." It is safe to sajy that nothing but the act of God or the lublic enemy" will prevent the sure deJvery of the entire cargo—a little slowly, but very surely.

I de not think you will get a just idea of Big Jack Small and the men of his professions, who are very numerous

Nevads, without I tell yon that the sage-brush ex-teamster seldom sleeps in a nouse—does not often sleep near a bOuse—but under his great wagon, may halt, near the valley the mountain stream. 'His, iply unyoked, And left to feed itself, until gathered up again to move on, the average journey being at the rate of eight miles perday—some days more than that, some less.

Twioe a day the teamster cooks for himself, and eats by himself, in the shadow cast by the bex of his wagon. Each evening he climbs the side of his high wagon—very high It sometimes 1b *-heaves bis roll of dusty bedding to the earth, tumbles it under tbe wagon, unbinds it, unrolls it, crawls around over it on his hands and knees to find the uneven places and punch them a little with his Knuckles or boot-heel, and—and —well, bis reom is ready and his bed is aired. If it is not yet dark when all this is done, be gets an old newspaper or ancient magazine, and lighting his pipe, lies upon bis baok, with feet up, and laboriously absorbs its meaning. Perhaps he may have one or more teams in company. In that case, the leisure time is spent smoking around the fire and talking ox, or in playing with greasy cards a game for fun. But generally the ox-teamster is alone, or accompanied by a Shoshonee Indian, whose business it is to pull sage-brush' for afire where pine-wood is scarce, and drive up the cattle to be yoked.

In Jack Small's train there is usually an Indian, though you may not always see bim, as sometimes, when the team is in motion, he is off hunting rats, or away up on top of the wagon asleep but at mealtime be is visible, sitting by the fire* or standing with his legs crossed, leaning against a wagon wheel.

The early training of Mr. John Small, having been received while following tbe fortunes of his father in that nnruly western quest—the search after cheap rich land, have been carried forward under various commonwealths, as his parent moved from State to State of our Union—out of Ohio, and in and oat of the intermediate States of Indiana, Illinois, Iowa—until he dragged into the rave, and ended his pilgrimage in Neiraska, while waiting for the locomotive of that great railway which was to make him rich. A training so obtained has made Mr. Small something of a politician, with a keen ear for distinguishing the points in the reading of a State stat- ...

the

ute, and a high appreciation of portance of State lines while tbe attempts at teaching and the example of his worn out pions mother have turned his attention to tbe consistencies and inconsistencies of religiose forms: so that Mr. Small's heaviest and highest thought dwells upon the present State where he resides, and the future stats where he is promised a residence. His greatest intellectual joy he finds in talking to a politician or a preacher. Of course he hss smaller joys of the Intellect in talking ox with the other teaaastere, or in "joshing" over a game of cards but be does not find solid comfort until be strikes ft master of politics or a teacher of leligioa. "What I'd like to be sure of,** said he, one day. "is this yers: Kin a American dtisen die, whim hfo time comes, satisfied that he leaves a republic behind wbat'll continue as it was laid out to an' that he's goi a' to sech a country as hia mother thought she was gcdn* to? Now, tbem's two of tbe biggest pints in Ameriky.

And durn my skin er I haint got doubts abont "tea both! Now, yore's a

from my sbfeu- in Iowa, aa* rite says she's ride an* goin' to die bat that she's happy because she's gain' where mother's gone, to be bappy feriver and iver. An'

rrejoicin\

s's ber husband—he's a lawyer, an In' bis part this letter, over Grant's election, because, be sayf, that pats tbe Republikin party onto a sure foundation, an* secures the support o' Republikin principles feriver in Ameriky. Now, you

ed round a- besjH-yes, sir, knocked round a heap, an'seen a good deal, an' seems

slim proof. An*/—-, me to be a good Christian, an' my broth er-in-law wants me to be a good Republikin, when, ef you pan me all out, I'm only a bull-puncher, an' haint more'n half learned the science o' that!"

It will be surmised from this hint of Mr. Small's character, taste and disposition, and that be was highly satisfied when the Rev. L. F. Sigbal requested the privilege of a trip with tho ox-team for the purpose of ronghing it against the dispepoa. Mr. Sighal said he had been recommended to come to Mr. Small as a humane and intelligent person, and having heard that Mr. Small's wagons were loaded for along trip to the southeastward, he would very much like to accompany him as an assistant, being willing to rough it as much as his constitution would stand. "All right!" said Jack. "Heave yer beddin' right up thar on top o' the wagon, an'come ahead. But, I say, did y'ever play billiard's?" "I have—yes, occasionally, at the bouse of a friend never in any publio place. Yes, sir." "Did y'ever play bull-billiards, I mean —with this kind of a cue, with a brad into it Make a run on the nigh-wheeler and carom on the off-leader, yer know?" "Ah! you mean have I ever driven oxen Well, no, sir. not in that way— though I was brought up on a farm in Pennsylvania, and have drawn lsgs with one yoke." "All right. I'll teach yer how to punch bufisj an' you kin convert me an' the Injin. I've Men wantin* that Injin converted ever since I hed him. Hs's heard a little abont Christ in a left handed way, but we'll gs fer Mm, on this trip!"

Mr. Small, while making these remarks was striding with long strong strides, up and down the road on 'the other side of his wagons, with whip on shoulder, making ready for a start looping np a heavy chain here, taking np a link there, and inspecting—shortening or lengthening—the drag of brakes, etc. while his long team, strung out ana hitched in tbe order of march, were soon standing and some lying down under the yoke, on tbe hard shardrock road beneath the hot summer sun. His Indian, yoleped Gov. Nye, was standing with his legs crossed near the ankle, stoically watching the preparations, well satisfied for the present in tho comfort of a full stomach and the gorgeous outfit of a battered black silk "plug" hat, a corporal's military coat with chevrons on the sleeves and buttoned to the chin, a pair of red drawers for pantaloons, red blanket hanking

gelapidatedfromabis

racefully arm, and a pai&df boots on his feet. Gazing bashfully upon this scene, and striving to catch a word with Mr. Small the Rev. Mr. Sighal turned his hands each over the other, and sejid: "Mr. Small, I cannot heave my bedding up there." "Can't! Well, give it yere to me 111 h'ist it fer you." "But I have not brought It yet. It is

just here, almost at hand, where I lodge." "l usually eat but little, for fear of eating to much."

Oil, s'pose yer heave away them

him!"

1T2RKE HAUTE SATURDAY EVENING MAIL.

tely complied,

ES

squatting by the fire, ppisqd the fryi pan upbn the uneven neap ofTbuni icksin his first lesson at camp-life. "I don't allow yer kin eat much this evenin', as we've only traveled half a day, but to-morrer we've got to cross tbe vallev through the alkali-dust, an' make along drive. Git a lot of that alkali into ye, an' youll hanker after fat bacon!" "Ah?" said Mr. Sighal, carefully balancing the pan on the fire. "Yes, sir"—with great emphasis on the sir. "Alkali an' fat bacon goes together like match yoke o' leaders. Does thar seem to be sny coals a-makin' in that fire, Parson?" "The woodseems to burn 1 infer there will ho oAikln "Inferrin' Jwon't do, Parson! We've tft to have'em, 'cause I must bake this Jread after supper, for to-morror. Alius keep one bakin* ahead," ejaculated Mr. Small, as be finished kneading bread in the pan, and quickly grasped' the axe, proceeding to break up some more wood. "Yer see, Parson, a bullpuncber hes to be up to a little of every sort o' work, in the mountains. Gov, you look out fer that coffee-pot, while 1 put this wood on the fire. Drink coffee, Parson? Not Well, then, make yer some tea in an empty oyster-can—haint got only one pot fer tea an' coffee." "No, Mr. Small do not make any trouble for me in that way. I drink water at the evening meal."

All right, then this hash is ready fer bizness!" Tbe Reverend Mr. Sigbal, sitting crosslegged on the ground, received the tin plate and rusty steel knife and fork into his lap from tbe hand of Mr. Small, and then Mr. Small sat down crosslegged opposite bim, with the bard loaf of yellow yeast-power bread, and the sizzling frying pan, between them, surrounded by small cotton sacks, containing respectively salt, pepper, and sugar. "Now, Parson," said Mr. Small,"pitch in!" "Well, well, rnstle round an' fetch it! Bis is biz with me now. I muBt git np snd dust. Yere, Gov. vou go him—all same mo—be talk. lake this Injin with yer—he'll help yer carry what you've got." "Thank you. You are very kind indeed," said the reverend, as he marched off, followed by tbe gorgeons red man, down the steep street of the mining town.

While he was gone, Mr. Small, having all things in readiness, proceeded to straighten his team so as to tighten the chains and couplings whereby the great wagons are made to follow each other, in order that he might be sure that everything should draw even, strong and true. Presently, Mr. Sighal ana Gov came panting and trotting round tbe corner, out of the street into the road, each having hold of the Mid of a roll of bedding the reverend carrying a black overcoat and purple scarf on his right arm, and Gov having fads royal red

blade overcoat and ate scarf

blanket on his loft arm. Mr. Small, taking the roll, poised it on end on his right palm, steadied it with his left, aad shot it to tiietop of the high wagonbox as if it had been a bag of feathers. "Thar, Gov, heap jump up—heap fix 'em—little rope—no fall off. You sabe?" "Yasb—me heap sabe!" said Gov, tossing his precious blanket to the wagon top, ana slowly climbing up after it over tbe wheel and ride. "All ready. Parson said Mr. Small, interrogatively, as he picked up his batton of command. "Yes," timidly. "I—I—believe I am."

Rapidly Mr. Small strode forward, drawing out of the indescribable rhetoric hit profession, "You Ro-w-dy! Turk! teve! Gee, Brigham 1" then suddenly,

Who-o-o-ah—&a-a-ck!"

"See yere, Parson! Got anything to est on aboard "No, sir. I have presumed I could buy provisions at the houses where we stop. "Houses, b—11 (Mi, excuse me, Parson. Thar haint no houses to speak of, an' ef thar was, bull-teams don't hev nothin' to do with houses, 'thout they're whiskey-mills.-' Then shoving up his hat, ana scratching his head with a vigorous rake or two of his hard fingernails, -he pulled the hat down on his nose, and leaned back, looked at the Rev. Mr. Sighal, and said, "S'yre, Parson, I'll grub ye, but my grub's lightnin'—beans, bread, bacon, coffee, an' can truck. You into camp, an' buy—le'me see—well, ray a small saok o' oat meal, two papers o' pinoly, a pound o' black tea, and half dozen cans o' condensed milk. That'll put ye through. Yer kin easy ketch up to the team. Gee, Brigham! Git up, Dave! You Roany! Bally! Haw thar! Roll out! Roll out!" And the slow live moves over the rooky ruad at a snail's pace, the wheels grinding almost imperceptibly, to the top of the not large stones, and then dropping off at the other side with a sudden fall and a jar, which, though the fall be but an inoh or two, makes the loading talk in various voices as it settles more firmly to its place.

Up, slowly—ah, so slowly, so dustily! up and up the mountain, by tbe canyon road, pausing at intervals to breathe the panting herd, Mr. Small grinds and crushes out a solid line, with his many wheels, in tbe porphyry and granite dust. The dry mountain summits rise on either hand, capped with the undaunted rocks, which have defied the artilery of heaven before man in any color stood to witness the shock—the rays of the sun converging upon the head of Big Jack Small, as he marches stoutly up tbe side of his team, to pause for its clicking step, then up another march, and then pausing again, lifting tbe serpent-coiled baton above his head, -shouting anon the name of some throbbing toiler of the yoke. JThus he gains the summit, and halts wdraw the rearward brakes. 'f* "Ah, Parson I* H'ist them things up thar to Gov. Gov you fix 'em. Now we're off. Plenty time, though, Parson, to look at the sccrnery.' You

round peak yonder—way off? That's jest eight-two miles from yere. Can't see tbat-a-way in Pennsylvania, kin ye? Gee, Brigham! Git a-a-up!"

More rapidly, and with much elinkin and clanking of yoke-rings, hooks, and chains, and the loud braying and howling of the friction of wheel-tire and brake block, tbe team winds down the eanyon of the opposite side of the mountain, the big wains rocking, reeling, and groaning, as they crowd each other round the curves of "the declivity and above all, the driver's voice echoin

along ths canyon the drawling words of mmand and encouragement. Mr. Sigbal is behind, out of sight mayhap upon some bold outcrop orearth's foundation stone, to gaze far aroand and across the uplifts of the grand furrows where the forgotten forces have plowed the field that now lies fallow in tbe wisdom of a plan wise beyond all that is yet written or revealed. O servant of the falih, look well! It is the aristocrasy of nature upon which you gaze. Sublime it is in tbe reposeful grandeur of its indifference to commerce, agriculture, or the petty avenues of human thrift. Locked in the coffers of the rocks are the wages of its early days of labor. Stern ana forbidding is the giant land, sad and unsocial but rich in the abundance of that which renders even man unsocial, stern and forbidding.

Ac tbe foot of the mountain the team halts where the water sinks and the dry valley begins. It is but short work for Big Jack Small to draw out the bow pins, release bis cattle and drop his eight yokes in a line, with the bright heavy chains linking them together in the .gravel and dust.

Meantime, Mr. Sighal arrives in camp witb each hand full of fragments ofvarious colored stone, be having tried his wits at prospecting for Bilver. "Hullo, Parson! Hev you struck it rich?" interrogated Big Jack, as he let down the grub-box ana cooking utensils from the wagon top to Gov Nye. "That's a bad beginning, Parson!" •'Why so, Mr. Small?" ....= .'i 'Cause," said Jack, jumping down from tbe wagon and coming up to take look at the rocks in tbe parson's hands 'cause ef you ever git quartz on tbe brain, you're a goner! Thatar meetin' house in Pennsylvany'll put crape on the door-knob—shore! an: 'dvertiz fer a new parson. But ye'll not git quarts on the brain—not mu«b—s'long's yer don't find no better stones than these jrere," said he, after examining the colection.

Ah! I was merely guessing at the stones to amuse myself. Are they not quartz .fragments "No, Sir-ee," said Jack, as, driving his axe into a pine log, he made the wood a 1M

nw.1Ui. AMJ ANLINTOM

lime. Hold on till we git across the valley an' git a-goin' up the next mountain, 'n I'll show yer some good quartz. Some bully float-rock over thar, but noDody haint found no mine yit—never will, I reckon I've hunted for the derned thing twenty times. Yere, Gov, git a bucket o' water. Parson, d'ye feel wolfish added Mr. Small, after be bad his fire lighted and proceeded culinarily. "Wolfish!" exclaimed Mr. Sighal, with some surprise. "Yes—hungry," exclaimed Jack, as he sawed with a dull knife at tbe tough rind of aside of bacon, cutting down one fat slice after the other upon tbe lid of the grub-box near tbe fire. "Not unusually so." "Haint et nothin'sence mornin*, hev ye?" "No not since early morning." "Must do better'n that!" said Jack, putting the frying-pan upon the fire. "One moment, Mr. Small," said tbe

Ksd,

rson, removing the hat from his own "will yoa not permit me to ask the blearing of God upon this frugal repast?" "Certainly I" assented Mr. Small snatching off his hat, and slspping it on the ground beside him. Then happening to note quickly the Indian sitting listlessly on the other ride of tl»e fire, hesaid: "Yere, yoa

Injin,

take off yer

bat qulck." Yash—heap take 'em off," said thq obeying Indian. "Now, Parson, roll on!"

The reverend, turning his closed eyes skyward, where the wide red glory of tbe setting sun was retrain® tite eternal thanks, offered the usual mild and measured form of thanksgiving and prayer for the Most High's blessing upon tbe crestnre-comforts, at the end of which be replaced his hat but Mr. Small bring too busy with his supper and with cogitation opon tho new styloof etiqaette, and being careless about his head covering in camp, neglected,or omitted, tbe replacement of his hat which state of tbe case bothered tbe "untutored savage" as to his own proper behavior, whereupon, lifting his cherished "plu£' from the earth be hold it in his band, Mm up. and grunted interrogatively: "XTh, Jack, put nm baton? No put bat on ?—me so

"Yes put-urn hat op." "UhlvMh, me heap puttiw hat on. All right—all same modisnm (medicine) White-a-man. Heap sabe V' and relapsed into silent observation.

The parson did not enjoy his supper. to*

day bad been one ofSTresome, nervous preparation for anew kind of life but Mr. Small was in hesrty sympathy with all nature, which includes a good appetite (if it is not founded on a good sppetite), and he ate with a rapid action and a keen relish, talking as he ate, in a way to provoke appetite, or if not to provoke, at least raise a sigh of regret for its SibSODOO* "Thar!" said Mr. Small with sighing emphasis, "that lets me out oh oreaturecoal for ta, in the grab line, till to-morrer. Yer don't waits in very hearty on this grub, Psrson. All right I'll bake yer an oatmeal cake soon's I git done with my bread, an' mix yer a canteen o' milk, for to-morrer's luneh." "Thank you, Indeed, Mr. Small."

Yere, Gov, said Mr. Small, as he plied the greased frying-pan full of broken bread, and pouied out a tin-cup of coffee, "yore's yer hash!"—to which Gov. responded silently by carrying the pan and cup to the fire, and then sitting down between them on the ground, to eat and drink in his own fashion. "These yere Injins is curious," said Mr. Small, in his running commentary on things in general, as he actively passed from one point in bis culinary duties to another "They wun't eat bacon, but they'll eat bacon-grease an' bread, or beef an' baeon-grease an' they won't eat cheese, but they'll eat dead hoss. I b'lieve the way to conquer Injins would be to load cannons with Limburg cheese an' blaze away at 'em!" "As the Chinese shoot their enemies in war with pots of abominable smells." "Yes I've neerd before o' the Chinese way o' makin' war, but reckon 'taint the Bmell Injins keer for—it's mighty hard to knock an Injin with a smell! Injins, least, way this yere tribe, hain't

fot-noo'

Bee

that

nose fer posies. They got some ind superstition about milk an' cheese, though I reckon they must hev drinked milk when they's little." And Mr. Small chuckled at the delicacy of his owu allusion to the font of aboriginal maternity. "Don't yer smoke, Parson "Not of late years," replied Mr. Sighal and paced up and down meditatively past the fire, gazing up at tbe darkening sky. "I formerly enjoyed a cigar, occasionally, but my dyspepsia has cut me off from that vice." "Well, I've got this bread bakin', an' reckon I'll take a smoke. Yers, Gov. done yer supper? Scoot up thar, an' throw down them beds, so we kin hev a

The silent and ready compliance r. Small as he

seat. of the Indian enabled tossed the rolls of bedding over by tbe fire, to remark: "Yere, Parson, take a seat. This yere's high style—front sst-tin'-room, fust floor. You'll want yer legs to-morrer, though yer kin ride ef yer want to but it's powerful tejus, ridin a bull-wagon." And hs sat down on bis roll of bedding to cut his plug tobacco, fill his short pipe, and watch the process of bread-baking while he enjoyed his smoke.

Tbe reverend slso sat down on his bed. The Indian sat on the ground, at the opposite side of the fire, bumming the low, buzzing, dismal ditty of his remote ancestors.

The stars came quietly out in the clear sky, and the dry, still air seemed to listen to the coming on of the innumerable host. So still—O. bo

top—" -dead

orystallne

still—is the summer nignt if Nevada I "Yer see, Parson," began Mr. Small, a short, quiet consultation with his pipe, ''they say 'at bull.punchia's slow business, out they don't know. People kin tell what they don't know powerful slick-like. Let some o' them talkin' fellers what knows all about this business in three squints from a stage-coach winder—let 'em try it on. Let 'em stand it once, an' chop wood, build a fire, cut bacon, make brqjfcd an' coffee, an' so sn, all in the same minute—an' do it fastcr'n they kin write it down in a letter, an' they wun't talk so much with their moutnl" "Yes I was just, in the moment yon began to speak, reflecting on the multiplicity of your duties and the rapid execution of them. Does not your life wear upon you terribly "No, sir. Hit's head-work does it. Seems to me when a feller has a big idee in his head, an' is lest a boomin' witb the futur, an' lookin1 forward, that work doesn't hurt bim a derned bit. Hit's hangin' back on theyol^e 'at wears a feller out—an' a ox, too?^ When I need to foiler a plow, by tbe day's work fer wages, an' bavin' no pint ahead to steer to—no place to unload at—I wasn't no more account than a cripple in a county poor-house!" "What is your great aim at this time —if I may be so impolite as to make such an inquiry on so short acquaintance," queried «r. Sighal, in a soft voice and a a "O, no nothin' imperllte about it. Open out on me, Parson, when you feel like it. I hain't got no secrets. My great aim is to play my game up to tbe handle. Ever feller's got a game. Some's politics, some's religion, Some's big money, some's land, some's keards, seme's,wlmmen an' good clo'es, some's good, 'some's bad," said Mr. Small, rapidly, and punctuating his remarks with puffs of tobacco smoke "an' my gatae is to hev the best eight yoke o' cattle, an' the best wagons, an' pull the biggest load to yoke, in these yere mountains and then," ne added, laughing and stroking his long bronze beard, "I kinder think there's a solid square-built gal some're what I ain't jest seen yit, that's s-waitin' in her daddy's front porch fer a feller like me—an'the old man he's gittin' too old, an'hain't got no other children, an, he's jest a-walkin up an' down under the shade-trees, expectin' a feller sbout my size an' build, what kin sling ink in tbe Bank o' Californy for about ten thousan' cash, honest money. How's that fer high. Parson And Mr. Small roared with his loudest langb, until tbe parson and Gov, joined sympathetically. "A very laudable endeavor, Mr. Small and let me say that I heartily wish you God-speed "Amen, Parson! I don't know ef I kin make it. Bat that's my game an' ef 1 can't make it—well, bit's better to hev a game an' lose it than never to play at all. Hain't it, Parson "It surely is. No good endeavor is ever entirely lost. God, in His great providence, gives germinating power to the minute seed of tbe plant which grew and died last year, though tbe seed may have been Mown miles away." "Do you believe," said Mr. Small after along pause, in which he mis« the hake-kettle lid with the point of a stick, and piled more hot coals upon the "do you blieve, fer certain sure—that God looks after all little things?" "Surely, Mr.Small. Havewenotthe blessed promises in the good book? "I don't jest recklect what we've got in tbe good book. Bat do yoa, as yer mammy's son—not as a parson—do you blieve ft?" "If I at all know my own thoughts and eonvictkms. Mr. Small, I do."

Gmtkuud on Third Pa#€.

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