Saturday Evening Mail, Volume 17, Number 27, Terre Haute, Vigo County, 25 December 1886 — Page 3

TH E_M AIL."

A PAPER FOR THE PEOPLE.

O,

V.

Christ-

5

maa tree bright lip and green, awaits Old an a a Andthe chlraney place all swept sjggg nd clean ranes wid

r•«« .-^4

I

rs and clean gapes wide ^. Its ponderous Jaws. .n The little stocking* are all hang up, and pobys Just makes four, wont ,, ,t Old Santa Claus be surprised when he flnds there Is one more There's ah elegant place up In the tree to hang Johnny's gun.and a place for May and one for Kate to leave their dolls upon. But for little baby blue eyes a lower branch he inust choose, where she may reach and And the place he's hung her first new shoes. Turn down the light a little now, so °W Banta

Claus can see. And baby and all must go to bed and be a* good a* good can be, and

to-morrow

morn get

up early, after a long night's sleep. ,« a come jft softly down to the

Xmas »i

a

Who will get the first peep.

N

CHRISTMAS WITH THE POETS.

Rl«e, happy tnorn! rise, holy inorn! Draw forth the cheerful day from night, Oh, Father, touch the East, and light The light that»hone when Hope was born. —[Tennyson.

There's a song In the air, there's a star in the

ttlcyf

There's a mother's deep prayer aud a baby's low cry ,, ,, And the star ruins It's Are while the beautiful sing, And the manger of Bethlehem cradles a

King! —{J. G. Holland.

The night that erwt no name had worn, To It a happy n«mc Is given For In that stable lay, new-lwrn,

The peaceful Prince of Karth and Heaven. —[Alfred Dommot.

ThIs day

Mhall change all griefs and quarrels Into love. —[Shakespeare.

This happy day. whose risen sun Hhall set not through eternity: This holy (lay, when Christ, the Lord,

Took on lilm ourhumaulty. —[Phoebe Carey.

Hut the stars that shine In Bethlehem Hhlnos still and shall not cease, And we listen still to the tidings

Of Olory and of Peace. —[Adelaide A. Proctor.

Hul peaceful was the night, Wherein the Prince of Light IIIN reign of peace on earth an.

And hear a brother's call

Milton.

Who taught mankind on that first Christmas day

AA

What 'twas to l»e a man to give, not take To serve, not rule to nourish, not devour: To help, not crush If need, to die, not live? —[Charles Klngslcy.

Then pealed the bells, more loud and deep, "Owl IN not dead nor doth He sloep! The Wrong shall fall, the Klght prevail. With peace on earth, good will to men!" —[Longfellow.

Some uAy that over 'gainst that season comes Wherein our Hnvlor birth Is celebrated, The bird of dawning slngcth all night long, Ho hallow'd and so gracious Is the time. [Shakespeare,

With gentle deeds and kindly thoughts And loving words withal, Welcome the merry Christmas In,

Lawrence.

At Christmas be merry and thankful withal, And feast thy poor neighlors. the great with the small. -[Thomas Tusser.

Twas Christinas broached the mightiest ale, Twas Chrlstinasrtold the merriest tale A Christmas gam!ol oft could cheer The poor man's heart through half the year. —[8cotL

The uoor will many a care forget The debtor think not of his debts Hut, as they each enjoy their cheer, Wish It were Christmas all the year. —[Thomas Miller.

As fits the holy Christmas hli th, Bo this good friends, our enrol still— Be |eace on earth, I* peace on earth,

To men of gentle wli [Thackeray.

HOW SANTA OLAUS GAME TO SIMPSON'S BAR.

BY BBET HABTE.

tCopyrlght49d by Houghton, Mifflin & Oo., and published by arrangement with them.)

It had been raining in the valley of the Sacramento. Tho North Fork had overflowed its banks and Rattleeumko creek was impassable. The few bowlders that bad marked the summer ford at Simpson* Croeelug wero obliterated by a vast abeet of water stretching to the foothills. Tho up stage was stopped at Grangers the last mail bad been abandoned in the tuke, the rider swimming for his life.

wAn

area," remarked Th© Sierra

Avalanche, with pensive local pride, "as large as the state of Massachusetts is now under water.®

Nor was the weather any better in the foothill*. The mud lay deep on the mountain road wagons that neither physical force nor moral objurgation could move from the evil ways into which they had fallen encumbered the track, and the way to Simpson* Bar was indicated by broken down teams and hard •wearing: And farther on, cut off and Inaccessible, rained upon and bedraggled, smitten hy igh winds and threatened by high water, Simpson's Bar, on the eve of Christmas day, IStfa, dung like a swallow* nest to the rocky entablature and splintered capitals of Table mountain, and shook in the bUut

As night shut down on the settlement a Sew lights gleamed through the mist from the windows of cabins on either side of the highway now crossed and gullied by lawless streams and swept by marauding winds. Happily most of the population were gath

ered at Thompson store, cturtered aroonda red bo* stov*, at which they silently spat in some accepted sense of social communion that, perhaps rendered xmver*atiwi unueo eMuy. Indeed, most methods of diversion had long sitKe been exhausted at Simpson* Bar bir* water bad suspended the regular eccupat son gulch and oo river, and a consequent tack of money and wtyhfcy had taken the sett from most illegitimate recreation. Even Mr. Hamlin was fain to have the Bar with $90 in his pocket—the only amount actnaUy realised of the large sum* won by him in Ue saocceaful exsrdstof hisardooas profession. *Ef I was asked," be remarked •omewbaft later, *ef I was asked to pint oat party Utile village whera a retired sport dkiatcar»forme«y ooutt aartiss htosi^

frequent and lively,"W aay 8impeon* Bar bat for a young man with a large family depending on his exertions, It don* pay." As Mr. Hamlin* family consisted mainly of female adults, this remark is quoted rather to sLow the breadth of his humor than the exact extent of his responsibility.

Howbeit, the unconscious objects of this satire set that evening in the listless apathy begotten of idleness and lack of excitement. Even the sodden splashing of hoofs before the door did not arouse them. Dick Bullen alone paused in the act of scraping oat his pipe, and lifted his head, but no one of tho group indicated any interest in, or recognition of, the man who entered.

It was a figure familiar enough to the company, known in Simpson's Bar as "The Old Man." A man of perhaps 50 years grizzled scant of hair, but still fresh and youthful of oomplexion. A face fall of ready, but not very powerful sympathy, with a chamelion like aptitude for taking on the shade and color of contiguous moods and feelings. He had evidently just left some hilarious companions, and did not at first notice the gravity of the group, but slapped the shoulder of the nearest man jocularly, and threw himself into a vacant chair. "Jest beard the nest thing out, boys! Ye know Smiley, over yar—Jim Smiley—funniest man in the Barf Well, Jim was jest telling the richest yarn about" "Smiley* a fool," interrupted a gloomy voice. "A particular skunk," added another in sepulchral accents.

A silence followed thesepSsiti ve statements. The Old Man glanced quickly around the group. Then bis face slowly changed. "That's so," be said reflectively, after a pause, "certingly a sort of a skunk and suthinof a fool. In course." He was silent for a moment as in painful contemplation of the unsavoriness and folly of the unpopular Smiley. "Dismal weather, ain't itP he added, now folly embarked on the current of prevailing sentiment "Mighty rough papers on the boys, and no show for money this season. And to-morrow's Christmas."

There was a movement among the men at this announcement, but whether of satisfaction or disgust was not plain. "Yes," continued the Old Man in the lugubrious tone he had, within the last few moments, unconsciously adopted—"yes, Christmas, and to-night's Christmas eve. Ye see, boys, I kinder thought—that is, I sorter bad an idee, jest passin' like, you know—that may be ye'd all like to come over to my house to-night and have a sort of tear round. But I suppose, now, you wouldn't} Don't feel likeiit, maybe?" he added with anxious sympathy, peering into the faces of his companions. "Well, I dont know," responded Tom Flynn with some cheerfulness. "PVaps we may. But how about your wife, Old Man! What does the say to itP

Tbe Old Man hesitated. His &njugal experience bad not been a happy one, and the fact was known to Simpson's Bar. His first wife, a delicate, pretty little woman, had suffered keenly and secretly from the jealous suspicions of her husband, until one day he invited the whole Bar to his bouse to expose her infidelity. On arriving, the party found the shy, petite creature quietly engaged in her household duties, and retired abashed and discomfited. But tho sensitive woman did not easily recover /rom the extraordinary shook of this" outrage. It was with difficulty she regained her equanimity sufficiently to release her lover from tbe closet in which he was concealed and escape with him. She left a boy of 8 years to comfort her bereaved husband. The Old Man's present wife had been bis cook. She was large, loyal and aggressive.

Before he could reply, Joe Dimmick suggested with great directness that it was the "Old Man* house," and that, invoking the divine power, the case wero his own, be would invite whom he pleased, even if in so doing he imperiled his salvation. The powers of evil, be further remarked, should contend against him vainly. All this delivered with a terseness and vigor lost in this necessary translation. "In course. Certainly. Thet'slt," said the Old Man with a sympathetic frown. "Thar* no trouble about th*L It* my own bouse, built every stick on it myself. Dont you be afeard o' her, boym. She may cut up a trifle rough—es wimmin do—but shell come round." Secretly the Old Man trusted to the exaltation of liquor and the power of courageous example to sustain him in such an emergency.

As yet, Dick Bullen, the oracle and leader of Simpson* Bar, had not spoken. He now took his pipe from his lips. "Old Man, bow's that yer

Johnny gettin' on! Seems to me he didnt look so peart last time I seed him on tbe bluff beavin' rocks at Chinamen. Didnt seem to take much interest in it

DICE Btruutir. Thar was a gang of *m by yar yesterday —drownded out up the river—and I kinder thought o' Johnny, and how he'd miss *etn! Maybe now, we'd be in the way ef he wus sickP

The father, evidently touched not only by this pathetic picture of Johnny* depri vatic n, but by the considerate delicacy of the speaktr, hastened to assure him that Johnny was better and that a "little fun might liven him up" Wbeneupon Dick arose, shook himself, urf saying, *Tm ready. Lead the way. Old Man here goes," himself led the way with a leap, a characteristic howl, and darted oat into the night As he passed through the outer room he caught up a biasing brand from the hearth. The action was repeated by the rait of tbe party, closely following and elbowing each

other, and before the astonished proprietor of Thompson* grocery was aware of the intention of his guests, the room was deserted.

Tbe night was pitchy dark. In tbe firtf gost of wind their temporary torches were extinguished, and only the red brands dancing and flitting in tbe gloom likedrun wtti-'o-tbe-wispR indicated tbsir Their way led op Fine Tree canyon, at the head of which a broad, low, bark thatched oabta borrowed In the mountain aid* It was the home of the Old Man, and the entrance to the tauael in which he worked when he worked at aOL Here the crowd pawed for a moment, oat of dsttntte deference to their host, who oaaie «p panting in tb» rear.

"FVape ye'd better hold on a second out yer, whilst I go in and see theC things is all right," said the Old Man, with an indilfarence he was far from feeling. The soggeatkm was graciously accepted, thq^ioor opened and dosed on the host, and the crowd, leaning their backs against the wall and cowering under the eaves, waited and listened.

For a few moments there was no sound but the dripping of water from the eaves, and the stir and rustle of wrestling boughs above than. Then tbe men became uneasy, and whispered suggestion and suspicion passed from tbe one to the other. ^Reckon she* caved in his head tbe first lick I" "Decoyed Mm inter the tunnel and barred him up, likely." "Got him down and sittin' on him." "Probly bQin suthin to heave on us stand clear the door, boys!" For just then the latch clicked, the door slowly opened, and a voice said, "Come in out o' tbe wet."

Tbe voice was neither that of the Old Man nor of his wife. It was the voice of a small boy, its weak treble broken by that preternatural hoarseness which only vagabondage and the habit of premature self assertion can give. It was the face of a small boy that looked up at theirs—a face that might have been pretty and even refined but that it was darkened by evil knowledge from, within and dirt and bard experience from without He hurl blanket around his shoulders and bad evidently just risen from his bed, ''Come in," he repeated, "and don't make no noise. The Old Man* in there talking to mar," he continued, pointing to an adjacent room which seemed to be a kitchen, from which tbe Old Man* voice came in deprecating accents. "Let me be," he added, querulously, to Dick Bullen, who had caught him up, blanket and all, and was affecting to toss him into tbe fire, "let go & me, you d—d old fool, d'ye ye hear!"

Thus adjured, Dick Bullen lowered Johnny to the ground with a smothered laugh, while the men, entering quietly, ranged themselves around a long table of rough boards which occupied the center of tbe room. Johnny then gravely proceeded to a cupboard and brought out several articles which he deposited on tbe table. "Thar* whisky. And crackers. And red herons. And cheese." He took a bite of the latter on his way to tbe table. "And sugar." He scooped up a mouthful en route with a small and very dirty hand. "And terbacker. Thar* dried appiis, too, on the shelf, but 1 don't admire 'em. Appiis is swellin'. Thar," be concluded, "now wade in, and dont be afeard. I dont mind the old woman. She dont b'long to inc. 8'long."

He bad stepped to the threshold of a small room, scarcely larger than a closet, and holding in its dim ructas a small bed. He stood there a moment looking at tho company, his bare feet peeping from tbe blanket, and nodded. "Hello, Johnny! You aint goin' to turn in agin, are yef said Dick. "Yes, I are," responded Johnny, decidedly. "Why, wot* up, old fellowf" "I'm sick." "How sick?" "I've got a fevier. And chilblains. And roomatiz," returned Johnny, and vanished within. After a moment* pause be added in the dark, apparently from under tbe bed clothes, "And biles."

There was an embarrassing silence. The men looked at each other, and at the fire.

«icmitwith

yen the appetizing banquet bgfore seemed as if they might again fall into the despondency of Thompson* grocery, when the voice of the Old Man, incautiously lifted, came deprecatingly from the kitchen: "Certainly! Tbet* so. In course they is. A gang o' lazy, drunken loafers, and that ar Dick Bullen* the ornariest of all. Didnt hev no more sabe than to come round yar with sickness in tbe house and no provision. Thct* what I said. 'Bullen,' ses I, 'it's crazy drunk you are, or a fool,' ses I, 'to think o' such a thing.' 'Staples,' I aex, 'be you a man, Staplea, and 'spect to raise h—1 under my roof, and invalids lyin' round But they would come—they would. Thet* wot you must *pect o' such trash as lays round the Bar."

A burst of laughter from the men followed this unfortunate exposure. Whether it was overheard in the kitchen, or whether the Old Man* irate companion had just then exhausted all other modes of expressing her contemptuous indignation I cannot say, but a back door was suddenly slammed with great violence. A moment later and the Old Man reappeared, happily unconscious of the cause of the late hilarious outburst, and smiled blandly. "The old woman thought she'd jest run over to Mrs. McFadden* for a sociable call," he explained, with jaunty indifference, as ht took a seat at the board.

Oddly enough, it needed this untoward Incident to relieve the embarrassment that was beginning to be felt by the party, and their natural audacity returned with their host 1 do not propose to record the convivialities of that evening. The inquisitive reader will accept the statement that the conversation was characterised by the same intellectual exaltation, the same cautious reverence, tbe same fastidious delicacy, the same rhetorical precision and the same logical and coherent discourse somewhat later in the evening which distinguish similar gatherings of the masculine sex in more civilised localities and under more favorable auspices. No glasses wen broken, in the absence of any no liquor was uselessly spilt on floor or table, in the scarcity of that article.

It was nearly midnight when the feetivitiei were interrupted. "Hush," said Dick Bullen, holding up bis hand. It was the queruloot voice of Johnny from hk adjacent closet: "O, dad!"

The OM Man arose hurriedly and disappeared in tbeckaet Presently be reappeared. "His rheumatic is coming on agin bad," he explained, "and be wants rubbia'." He lifted tbe demijohn of whisky from the table and shook it & was empty. Didt Mien pot down his tin cup with an embarrassed laugh. Sodid the others. The OM Man examined tbeir contents and said, hopefully: "I reckon i* enough he dont need much. Yon on all o" yon for a spell, and be back and vanJUwd in the closet with an old flannel ahirt and tbe whisky. Tbe door ekeed bat imperfectly, and the following dialogue was distinctly audible: "Now, sonny, wnar does she ache wowtP

yer but it* most powerful from yer to yer. Bab yer, dad." A sOeaoe atoned to IrtPffftt A talk nbbtng. Then Johaaj:

TERRE "FT A TJTE SATURDAY EVENING. MAIL.

"Hevin1 a good time oat yer, dadP "Yes, sonny." "To-momr* Cbrtsmiss, aint itf* "Yes, sonny. How does she feel nowP "Better. Rnb a little furder down. Wot* Chrismiss, anyway? Wot* it all aboutf* "O, it* a day."

This exhaustive definition was apparently satisfactory, for there was a silent interval of rubbing. Presently Johnny again: "Mar sex that everywhere else but yer everybody gives tilings to everybody Chrismiss, and then she jist waded inter yoo. She says thar* a man they call Sandy Claws, not a white man, yon know, bat a kind

Chinemin, cranes down the chimbley night afore Chrismiss and gives things to chillern—boys like me. Puts km in their butea. Tbet* what die tried to {day upon me. Easy now, pop, whar are yon rubbin' to?—thet* a mile from the place. Hie jest made that up, didnt she, jest to aggre wrote me and you! Dont rub thar. Why, dad!"

"Thar3* a man they call Sandy Clates." In the great quiet that seemed to have fallen upon the house the sigh of the near pines and the drip of leaves without was very distinct

Johnny's

voice, too, was lowered

as be went on, "Dont you fake on now, fur Pm gettin' all right fast Wot* tbe boys doin' out thar!"

The Old Man partly opened the door and peered through. His guests were sitting there sociably enough, and there were a few silver coins and a lean buckskin purse on the table. "Bettin' on suthin—some little game or 'nolber. They're all right," he relied to Johnny, and recommenced bis rubbing. "I'd like to take a hand and win some money," said Jounny, reflectively, after a pause.

The Old Man glibly repeated what was evidently a familiar formula, that if Johnny would wait until he struck it rich in the tunnel he'd have lots of money, etc., etc. "Yes," said Johnny, "but you don't And whether you strike it or I win it, it* about the same. It* all luck. But it* mighty cur'o* about Chrismiss—aint itf Why do they call it CbrismiSBf

Perhaps from some instinctive deference to the overhearing of his guests, or from some vague sense of incongruity, the Old Man* reply was so low as to be inaudible beyond the room. "Yes," said Johnny, with some slight abatement of interest, "I've heerd o} him before. Thar, that'll do, dad! I don't ache near so bad as I did. Now wrap me tight in this yer blanket So. Now," he added in a muffled whisper, "sit down yer by me till I go asleep." To assure himself of obedience, he disengaged one hand from tbe blanket, and, grasping his father* sleeve, again compoped himself toj ^^the •'WfT* y.r--~rg»"

For some moments the Old Main waited patiently. Then the unwonted stillness of the house excited his curiosity, and, without moving from the bed, be cautiously opened the door with his disengaged hand, and looked into the main room. To his infinite surprise it was dark and deserted. But even then a smoldering log on the hearth broke, and by the upspringing blase he saw the figure of Dick Bullen sitting by the dying embers. "Hello!"

Dick, started, rose, and came somewhat unsteadily toward him. "Whar* the boys!" said the Old Man. "Gone up the canyon on a little pasear. They're coming back for me in a minit I'm waitin' ruund for 'em. What are you starin' at, Old Man?" he added with a forced laugh "do you think I'm drunk f"

Tbe Old Man might have been pardoned the supposition, for Dick* eyes were humid and his face flushed. He loitered and lounged back to the chimney, yawned, shook himself, buttoned up his coat and laughed. "Liquor aint so plenty as that, Old Man. Now don't you git up," he continued, as tbe Old Man made a movement to release his sleeve from Johnny* hand. "Dont you mind manners. Sit jest where you be I'm goin' in a jiffy. Thar, that* them now."

There was a low tap at tbe door. Dick Bullen opened it quickly, nodded "Good night" to his host, and disappeared. Tbe Old Man would have followed him but for the hand that still unconsciously grasped his sleeve. He could have easily disengaged it, it was small, weak and emaciated. But perhaps because it was small, weak and emaciated be changed his mind, and. drawing his chair closer to the bed, rested his head upon it In this defenseless attitude tbe potency of his earlier potations surprised him. Tbe room flickered and faded before his eyes, reappeared, faded again, went out, and left him—asleep.

Meantime Dick Bullen, closing tho door, confronted his companions. "Are you ready!" said Staples. "Beady," said Dick "what* the timer "Fast 12," was the reply "can you make it!—it* nigh on fifty miles, tbe round trip hither and yon." "I reckon," returned Dick, shortly. "W bar's the maref "Bill and Jack* b* din' her at the crowin'." "Let ten boM ya a minit longer," said Dick.

He turned and reentered the boose softly. By the ligbt of the guttering candle and dying fire he saw that the door of the little room was open. He stepped toward it on tiptoe and looked in. Tbe Old Man had fallen back in Us chair, snoring, his beJpkws feet thrust out in a line with his collapsed shoulder*, and his bat palled down over bis eyes. Beside him, an a narrow wooden bedssead, lay Johtmy, muffled tightly in a that bid all save a strip of forehead and a few curls damp with perspiration. Bullen made a step forward, hesitated, and glanced over Us shoulder into the deserted room. Everything was quiet With asoddmrmotatiao ho parted bis huge mustaches with both hands and stooped over the sleeping boy. Bat even a be did so a mischievous blast, iiying in wait, swooped down the chimWOt rekindled the hearth, and liinp ths

room with a shameless glow from which Dick fled in bashful terror. His companions were already waiting for Mm at the crossing. Two of them were struggling in the darkness with some strange misshapen bulk, which as Dick came nearer took the semblance of a great yellow beam

It was the mare. She was not a pretty picture. From her Roman nose to her rising haunches, from her arched spine, hidden by the stiff of a Mexican saddle, to her thick, straight, bony legs, there was not a line of equine grace. In her half blind but wholly vicious white eyee, in her protruding under lip, in -her monstrous color, there was nothing but ugliness and vice*. "Now, then," said Staples, "stand cl'ar of her beds, boys, and up with you. Dont miss your first holt of her mane, and mind ye get your off stirrup quick. Beady!"

There was a leap, a scrambling struggle, a bound, a wild retreat of the crowd, a circle of flying hoofs, two springless Imps that jarred the earth, a rapid play and jinglo of spurs, a plunge, and then the voice of Dick somowhere in tbe darkness, "All right!" "Don't take the lower road back onloss you're hard pushed for time! Don't bold her in down hill! We'll bo at the ford at 5. Clang! Hoopa! Mula! Go!"

A splash, a spark struck from the ledge in tho road, a clatter in the rocky cut beyond, and Dick was gone.

Sing, O Muse, the ride of Richard Bullen! Sing, O Muse, of chivalrous men! the sacred quest, tho doughty deeds, the battery of low churls, the fearsome ride and grewsome perils of the flower of Simpson* Bar! Alack! she is dainty, this Muse! She will have none of this bucking brute and swaggering, ragged rider, and I must fain follow him in prose, afoot!

It was 1 o'clock, and yet he had only gained Rattlesnake hill. For in that time Jovita had rehearsed to him all her imperfections and practised all her vices. Thrice bad she stumbled. Twice had she thrown up her Roman nose in a straight line with the reins, and, resisting bit and spur, struck out madly across country. Twice had she reared, and, rearing, fallen backward and twice had the agile Dick, unharmed, regained his seat before she found her vicious legs again. And a mile beyond them, at the foot of along hill, was Rattlesnake creek. Dick knew that here was the crucial test of his ability to perform his enterprise, set his teeth grimly, put his knees well into her flanks, and changed his defensive tactics to brisk aggression. Bullied and maddened, Jovita began the descent of the hill Here the artful Richard pretended to hold her in with ostentatious objurgation and well-feigned cries of alarm. It is unnecessary to add that Jovita instantly ran away, nor need I state the time made in the descent it is written in the chronicles of Simpson* Bar. Enough that in another moment, as it seemed to Dick, she was splashing oh the overflowed banks oi Rattlesnake creek. As Dick expected, the momentum she had acquired carried her beyond the point of balking, and, holding her well together for a mighty leap, they dashed into the middle of .tbe swiftly flowing current A few moments of kicking, wading, and swimming, and Dick drew a long breath

Tbe road from Rattlesnake creek to Red mountain was tolerably level Either the plunge in Rattlesnake creek had dampened her baleful fire, or tbe art which led to it had shown her the superior wickedness of her rider, for Jovita no longer wasted her surplus energy in wanton conceits. Once she bucked, but it was from force of habit once she shied, but it was from a new, freshly painted meeting house at the crossing of tbe country road. Hollows, ditches, gravely deposits, patches of freshly springing grasses, flew from beneath her rattling hoofs. She began to smell unpleasantly, once or twice she coughed slightly, but there was no abatement of her strength or speed. By 2 o'clock he had passed Red mountain and begun the descent to tbe plain. Ten minutes later the driver of the fast Pioneer coach was overtaken and passed by a "man on a Pinto boss"—an event sufficiently notable for remark. At 2:d0 Dick roso in his stirrups with a great shout Stars were glittering through the rifted clouds, and beyond him, out of tbe plain, rose two spires, a flagstaff and a straggling line of black objectsi Dick jingled his spurs and swung his riata, Jovita bounded forward, and in another moment they swept into Tuttleville and drew up before the wooden piazza of tbe Hotel of All Nations.

What transpired that night at Tuttleville is not strictly a port of this record. Briefly I may siate, however, that after Jovita had been handed over to a sleepy hostler, whom she at once kicked into unpleasant unconsciousness, Dick sallied out with the barkeeper for a tour of tbe sleeping town. Lights still gleamed from & few saloons and gambling bouses but avoiding these, they stopped before several closed shops, and by persistent tapping and judicious outcry roused the proprietors from their beds, and made them unbar the doors of their magazines and expoee their wares. Sometimes they were met by corses, but oftener by interest and some concern in tbeir needs, and the interview was invariably concluded by a drink. It was 3 o'clock before this pleasantry was given over, and with a small waterproof bag of India rubber strapped on bis shoulden Dick returned to the boteL But here be was waylaid by Beauty—Beauty opulent in charms, affluent in dress, persuasive in speech, and Spanish in accent! In vain she repeated the invitation in "Excelsior," happily scorned by all Alpine climbing youth, aiuf rejected by this child of the Sierras—a rejection softened in this instance by a laugh and bis last gold coin. And then be sprang to the saddle and dashed down tbe lonely street and oat into the lonelier plain, wjm present!' fee lights, the black tine of bcoses. tbe spink

andthe flagstaff sank into the earth behind MM ngrtTi and were lost in the dhftaner. The storm had cleared away, the air was brisk and cold, the outline* of adjacent landmarks were distinct, bat it was before Dick reached the meeting boose and tbe crossing of the country road. To avoid the rising grade he had taken a longer and more drcaitoos road, in wboae vfodd mad Jovita sank fetlock deep at every bound. It was a poor preparatioc for a steady aseent of live mOesmore but Jovita, gathering her legs under her, took it with ber nsual blind, unreaijwilng fta% and half hoar laty reached

the long level that led to Rattlesnake creek. Another half hour would bring him to tha creek. He threw tbe reins lightly upon tha neck of the more, chirruped to her, and began to sing. I-

Suddenly Jovita shied with a bound that would have unseated a less practiced rider. Hanging to her rein was a figure that had leaped from the bank, and at the same time from the road before her arose a shadowy horse and rider. "Throw up your hands," commanded the second apparition with an oath.

Dick felt the mare tremble, quiver and apparently sink under him. He knew what it meant and was prepared. "Stand aside, Jack Simpson, I know you, you d—d thief. Let me pass or"

He did not finish the sentence. Jovita rose straight in the air with a terrific bound, throwing the figure from her bit with a single shake of her vicious head and charged with deadly malevolence down on the impediment before her. An oath, a pistol shot, horse and highwayman rolled over in tha road, and the next moment Jovita was a hundred yards away. But the good right arm of her rider, shattered by a bullet, dropped helplessly at his side.

Without slacking his speed he shifted tbe reins to his left hand. But a few momenta later he was obliged to halt and tighten tha saddle girths that had slipped in the onset. This, in his crippled condition, took soma time. He had no fear of pursuit, but looking up be saw that the eastern stars were already paling, and that tbe distant peaks had lost their ghostly whiteness, and now stood out blackly against a lighter sky. Day was upon him. Then completely absorbed in a single idea, he forgot tho pain of his wound, and mounting again, dashed on toward Rattlesnake creek. But now Jovita* breath came broken by gasps, Dick, reeled in his saddle, and brighter and brighter grew tha sky.

Ride, Richard rim, Jovita linger, Odayl For the last few rods then) was a roaring in his ears. Was it exhaustion from loss of blood, or what? He was dazed and giddy as he swept down the hill, and did not reco^ nize his surroundings. Had ho taken the wrong road, or was this Rattlesnake creek?

It was. But the brawling creek he had' swam a few hours before had risen, more than doubled its volume, and now rolled a swift and resistless river between him and Rattlesnake hill. For the first time thai night Richard's heart sank within him. The river, the mountain, the quickening east, swam before his eyes. He shut them to recover his self control. In that brief interval, by some fantastic mental process, tbe little room at Simpson* Bar and tho figures of the sleeping father and son rose upon bim. He opened his eyes wildly, cast off his coat, pi» tol, boots and saddlo, bound his pi-ocious pack tightly to his shoulders, grasped the bare flanks of Jovita with his bared knees, and with a shout dashed into tho yellow water. A cry arose from the opposite bank as the head of a man and horse struggled for a few moments against the battling curront, and then were swept away amidst uprooted trees and whirling driftwood.

The old man started and woke. The fire on the hearth was dead, tho candle in the outer room flickering in its socket, and sotn» G'LHUY WMI

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but fell back with a cry before the dripping, half naked figure that rolled against thedoox* post "DickP "Hush! Is he awake yet!" "No—but, DickP "Dry np, yon old fool! Get me whisky quick!" The Old Man flow and re* tuned with—an empty bottle! Diok would have sworn, but his strength waa not equal to the occasion. He staggered, caught at the handle of the door, and motioned to the Old Man. 'Thar* suthin' in mf pack yer for Johnny. Take it off. I cant"

The Old Man unstrapped the pack and laid It before the exhausted man. "Open it, quick!"

He did so with trembling fingers. It contained only a few poor toys—cheap and barbaric enough, goodness knows, but bright with paint and tinsel. One of them waa broken another, I fear, was irretrievably ruined by water and on the third—ah me! there was a cruel spot "It dont look like much, that* a fact," said Dick, ruefully. "But it* the best we could do. Take 'em, Old Man, and put 'em in his stock* tag, and tell him—tell him, you knowbold me, Old Man—" Tbe Old Man caught at bis sinking figure. "Tell him," said Dick, with a weak little laugh—"tell him Bandy Claus has oome."

"Tell him Sandy Claus hat com*." And even so, bedraggled, ragged, unshaven and unshorn, with one arm banging he! plemly at bis side, Santa Claus came to Simpson* Bar and fell fainting on tbe first threshold. Hie Christmas dawn came slowly after, touching the ivmoter peaks with the rosy warmth of ineffable love. And it looked so tenderly on Simpson* Bar that the wbolo mountain, as if caught in a generous action, Wuftbed to tbe ricks.

Air Svery Room.

Even in the coldest weather, air every room thoroughly. Rooms will become warm far more quickly if a plentiful supply of fresh air has been admitted through open windows. A "stuffy" atmosphere in always unpleasant.—New York Commercial Adver-

For Everjr

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D»y CM.

To break np the habit some persons have of scratching matches on paint rub tho spot with flannel saturated with liquid vaseline. After that they may scratch ever so hard, they will never get a ligbt nor injure tho saint-"-Atlanta Constitution.