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Page 11 text:
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LITERARY The Spirit of True Love T was late November. 1870. The birds were warbling faintly o’er their supper II table; now and then the gay chatter of a merry little squirrel was borne to the ear of a perchance attentive listener, and from the canyon below rose that inexpressible. unequaled tone of the merry babbling brook on whose bank sat the weary and dejected Abiel Kelliam. Abiel had persistently roamed the mountains south of Grants Pass, a little settlement in Oregon, which consisted of not more than a half dozen rudely constructed buildings, for the past seven years. Always looking for something ‘‘rich,’’ forever trusting that to-morrow would be the dawn of his success, never fully discouraged, Abiel Kelliam roamed on after the fashion of his kind. Sitting now on the end of a fallen pine tree which stubbornly refused to be wrapped in the snowy coverlet of nature, Kelliam peacefully thought o’er the triumphs and defeats of the day. apparently immune from the universal happiness of his pleasant surroundings. Even the slowly sinking sun, throwing his gorgeous rays o’er the western heavens and gradually tinting the delicately pink canyon into a deep lavender, passed unnoticed by our pioneer prospector. F know not how long he would have remained thus entranced by his deep musings had not a certain glitter caught his eye. Dropping involuntarily to his knees, he hastily brushed aside the thm coating of snow, scattered over a heap of peculiar looking rock, and proceeded to examine his new found treasure. Excitement and happy anticipation soon faded from the worn features, giving place to the true, stolid facial elements of the optimistic miner. Bravely swallowing his momentary disappointment, Kelliam dropped the small piece he still held in his tawny fingers into an inner coat pocket and slowly retraced his steps to his cabin home. That evening, after placing his coffee to boil over the flickering flames of his companion-like campfire. Kelliam again examined the pocketed sample, this time more closely. Then with a knowing nod and an impetuous. “But ’taint rich, the sample was almost thoughtlessly placed in “the junk box, that sample which had meant so much for one brief instant when the sinking fireball of the West had shot his penetrating rays thru the flaky coverlet to the bit of rock beneath; which had then passed his good night smile on to cheer the heart of the weary traveler. 7
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Page 12 text:
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That bit of joy; that bit of sorrow, which went to make up the warp and woof of another dying day was for the time forgotten. But “Time waits for no man. Years came and went, and again the coffee was singing gayly over the merrily cancmg blaze, but no Abiel was near to fancy his dreams in its rich bed of coals and cheerily whistle away the same old daily disappointment. A young man. Joe LaZa. a companion Kclliam had picked up about a year before, was vainly contriving to tempt the appetite of his bedfast “old pal.” Late that night Joe sat by his sick friend, watching for the slightest change. At length Abiel assured him he was feeling much better and encouraged him to lie down fcr a rest, promising to call if need be. The first faint flush of dawn was just peeping over the horizon when the cries of the suffering patient roused the boy from his troubled sleep. Abiel always called him the boy. Sitting upright in bed, the sick man screamed with all his might. There! he cried, pointing to the table shelf. “Look! Don't you see it ? No. not gold: but something. Oh, boy! Don’t you see?” continued his voice trailing to a dreadful whisper. Then he screamed again: “There it is. I found it thirty year ago! Thirty year! Ch, quick, quick, the junk box. boy, the tin one.” With the last words the agonized sufferer sank back on his pillow, exhausted, and fell once more into unconsciousness. But even in such utter insensibility his rest was partially broken by the laborous twitching of his lips, as if in a vain effort to speak. Hastily snatching the desired tin box from its accustomed comer on the shelf, the boy returned with it to the bedside, only to find that his companion had seemingly fallen to sleep. Suddenly the once steady steel blue eyes calmly opened and turned appealingly to the trusty lad. Instantly guessing his meaning, Joe lifted the dusty cover from the tin treasure box and placed it within the reach of his suffering companion. The first glimpse of the sparkling contents served as a veritable restorative. Joe fairly swooned with youthful wonder and amazement as Abiel half raised himself in bed and began picking over the contents. As he took each piece of rock from its resting place he told the story connected with it. At last he came to the little piece he had picked up in that desolate canyon near Grants Pass so many years before. “Yes,” he said, “it was thirty year ago. and well I remember the place. It was near a little stream of cool running water. You have been over this country, my lad, and you know the place well.” Old Kelliam paused here as if in deep thought, then continued. “No, 'taint gold: but worth your while, lad. I’m sure.” But here the rudely overtaxed muscles gave way under a’ spell of violent coughing. There was a softness, a delicacy, an almost motherly tenderness in the very touch 8
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