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Page 19 text:
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THE MUSSUL UNSQUIT 15 X- if- O Hllh dlll! Ei 4 -ii B--1 if f ffiiiii 'T if E THE WORK OF JOE BLAKE Representative Short Story of Local Color OE BLAKE was a backwoodsman and no mistake. He lived in a small log cabin. Cabin? No! In reality it was nothing but a hut. He passed the long win- ter days in trapping and hunting, in the summer he fished and made many trips to a distant village for the purpose of bring- ing in supplies to last him through the win- ter. The cabin was very rudely built, the logs were rough, and as they had never been peeled, strings of bark could be seen hanging down on them. It had been lo- cated in a little clearing in the deep woods. At the hack of the clearing there was a dense forest, nothing but trees as far as the eye could see. Not far from the front, a river wended its way in and out like a great snake, breaking the silence of the forest with its dull, roaring sound. joe was six feet tall, broad-shouldered, and of grand stature. When shaved and well dressed he would make as Hne a look- ing man as ever put on a dress suit. But joe seldom shaved and never dressed up. One might get the idea that he was an un- clean man, drunk nearly all of the time, but this was not so. He did not know the taste of liquor, for he drank only the pure, crystal water from Nature's spring, and he clean, although than rags. old, but he was years ago. He had lived in this little cabin for twenty-five years, was always perfectly contented and happy there, but now that he was getting older he had a desire to get away from the loneliness and be with other men. Joe had started for Dorman's lumbering camp, some miles away, with enough food to last him until he should arrive. He had been to this camp before but it was fifteen years ago, and since then the landmarks had changed. But he plodded on, some- times singing to himself, more often listen- ing to the music of the birds. After four days he reached his destina- tion. It was a rough place. The camp was little better than a hovel, although it boasted of a cook, an all-around man, thir- ty-five lodgers, and 'I Old Dorman him- always kept his clothes they were not much more Joe was forty-tive years as spry as he was twenty
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Page 20 text:
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Dorman spoke, 16 THE MUSSUL UNSQUIT self. The men were thick-set, coarse fea- tured, with dirty clothes, and unkempt hair which hung nearly to their shoulders. Joe walked into the camp and sat down as if he belonged there. He sat there some minutes unnoticed. At length jim Russe, a red-headed, dirty-looking fellow, noticed him. jim was drunkg he had just come from the saloon -a shed where Dor- man kept liquor which he sold to his crew. Jim leered towards joe and said in a loud voice- H'llo pall Whar you frum ? joe answered the question much quieter than it had been asked. 'K Oh, I just hap- pened in, thought perhaps I might strike a job. At this Jim laughed loud and long. A job! VVal, I guess not heah! By this time quite a few of the men had gathered in the camp, some drunk, others partly under the influence of drink. It was not long, however, before Dorman appeared and Joe hired out for the winter. At first, joe was liked by all of the men but when it was found that he would not touch a drop of their liquor and must wash his hands and comb his hair before every meal, they began to jeer at him be- hind his back, yet they respected him. One night Joe lectured them on their bad habits of drinking and uncleanliness. When he had finished, they all arose, and instead of going to the saloon for a drink, they went to bed. joe was happyg he had made them understandg but the next morning he was disappointed for they drank worse than ever. That night he lectured again but to no avail. They would not change. joe worked there all winter, praying that in some way he might make the men give up their bad habits, but he could not seem to accomplish the work he sought to do. Although they knew that joe was right, that he was living a higher and better life, they could not seem to break away and fol- low in his footsteps. One night in early spring, joe left them as mysteriously as he had come. The men went on in the same old way, drinking and swearing, yet it would seem to the looker- on that the men were cleaner and that they drank less. But this might have been due to the warm spring which necessitated a shave, and to the lack of liquor, for the supply was running low. Joe had returned to his own little cabin in the clearing, but with great diliiculty. He was just able to crawl through the door- way and into bed. His condition was due to mere exhaustion and hunger. The next morning when he awoke he found that he was very ill and could not live long, so he wrote his last wish and desire on a scrap of paper. He died that night, alone in the cabin which had been his only home for so many years. The next day the lumbermen from Dor- man's camp came upon this little cabin on their way to the settlements. They knocked at the door, and as no one answered, they went in. They found Ioe's body and decided at once to give him a decent burial. So they buried him under a huge pine at the back of the cabin and set up a marker over his grave. Dorman found the paper joe had care- fully placed on the table. He read, My last wish is that Dorman will come to his senses and leave off drinking and that he will make his men do the same. In my mind, I can see a new camp, a big, white, clean one standing where Dorman's old one now stands. The men are drinking clear, cold water, and are clean in their dress and personal habits. This was all. As soon as Dorman fin- ished reading, he looked from one to another of his workmen. They seemed to understand. At length, he spoke, Pals, this heah letter has changed my whole lifeg frum now on I will not touch liquor of any kind. And, goin' to work for me, y'u same! If ye are willing, paw. Every hand was raised. another drop of Pals, if you are 've got to do the raise yore right huskily, Pals, I shore am glad. We 'll build that thar new camp what he spok' of. The next morning they went away. But
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