The Man from the Bitter Roots

-Def

ing thick upon one another in the northeast, and he wondered whether the month was the first of November or late O

after which it sometimes cleared and was open weather for weeks. But this was when it ca

clean up the rocker, else he would lose nearly the entire proceeds of his day's work. The gold was so light that m

clean scrubbing brush, carefully worked the sand over the Br

's wages," he thought as he saw the thin y

until only a small quantity remained, and while he watched carefully lest some of the precious specks and flakes which followed in a thick, yellow string behi

eyes sought the saddleback or pass over which the ancient trail of the Sheep-eater Indians

shook the cold river water from them, tur

t the hardest work he's done since we landed on the bar. Oh, well"-he raised one big shoulder in a shrug

ever fully tried it. He never had lifted a weight when he had not known that, if necessary, he could lift a little more. His physique had fulfilled the promise of his sturdy youth, and he was as little aw

Klondike. He had lived hard, endured much in the adventurous life of which he seldom talked. His few intimates had been men like himself-the miners and prospectors who built their cabins in the fastnesses with Hope their one companion, to eat and sleep and work with. He was self-educa

t, smooth-shaven gamblers, bartenders, who welcomed him with boisterous camaraderie, tired and respectable women who "run" boarding houses, painted, highly-perfumed ladies of the dance hall, enigmatic Chinamen, all were types with which he was familiar. But he called none

n all the world. Certainly he never had seen one who in the least approached her. He remembered her vividly, the gra

been different. With his mother to intercede for him he knew that he would have had it. After her death his father grew more taciturn, more impatient, more bent on pr

ere he rode daily, and attend the better one in the nearest village, which necessitated

re you are until you've learned to read, and write, and figure: then you'll help

ed now, as he had not at the time he ran away from home, what the thousands of

"And it's all I would have asked of him. I didn't come into the

ue flannel shirt were soft and wet, so much so that they were almost drops of r

eet-iron camp stove, Bruce gave a disparagi

verything's going to freeze up stiff as a snake. Never remember it as cold as this the first storm

r of whip-sawed lumber it was necessary to light the small kerosene lamp, al

hes in disgust, then set a l

ub off with a stick and eat for a year without washing a dish. Seems like the better raised some fellers are the dirtier t

nt over the low table and scraped at the tin plates with his thumb nail o

every use. A lard bucket was his coffee-pot, his stewing kettle, his sour-dough can. He made mulligan in one lard bucket and boil

ng it on a nail, then eyed the bed in

r white men to sleep in! Wonder

ss pillows with his fists, he told himself that he would cut some fr

er to be first-class help around some lady's home." A dead tree crashed outside. "Wow! Listen to that wind! Sounds like a bunch of squaws wailing; maybe it's a

would come home in a better humor, wondering if he should tell him about the salt, when Slim burst in with a swirl of s

ithout speaking and stamped the mud and snow from

" Bruce said, endeavoring to spea

r," was the snarling answer. "I'm as wel

the lamp chimney and putting it back on the shelf, but he noticed that Slim's fac

wise; I don't need you to te

yes began to shine. Slim noticed it w

of yourn comin' down.

hesi

I shouldn't have done it, b

o the -- do you think you

that, but what's the use of being so onery? I wouldn't have made a fuss if you had done the same thing. Let's try and get along peaceable the few days we'll be

" Slim answered, wi

e leaned against the window casement with fo

in shrill venom: "I might 'a' knowd how 'twoul

blazing now between their narrowed lids, bu

ther toted mortar for a plasterer and

bove his black beard, was all Bruce saw as he sprang for hi

. He drew back his hand and slapped him first on the right cheek, then on the left

the rack, and was ready, but he tore at the fastening and ran outside. Bruce watched the blackness swallow

The shaft of yellow light which shot into the darkness fell upo

li

uce saw it clearly now. Insanity blazed in his black eyes. There

ke a woman's screech. "I've meant to get

Slim! Drop

lim c

for the heavy, old-fashioned

er swing, aiming as deliberately for Bruce's he

he swooped and caught Slim by the ankles in the instant that he paused. Exerting his great strength, he hurled him over his shoulder,

e a crimson fountain. Bruce knelt beside him, trying frantically to bring together th

ying animal, trying to rise and stagger around the room. Finally his chest heaved, and his contracted leg

licker on the bunk and laid Slim on it and tried to wash the blood from the floor and the logs of the ca

work it out pretty soon. Slim was dead; he need not get supper for Slim; he kept looking at him to see if he had moved. How sinister, how "onery" Slim looked eve

one in the wilderness! That cook in the Buffalo Hump who tried to knife him because he stubbed his toe against the coffee-pot, and "Packsaddle Pete," who

ance in the light of what had happened. He blamed himself. He should have quit long ago. He should have seen that Slim's ill-balanced mind needed only a trifle to shove it

his coffee and stared at the bacon and cold biscuit a while, then wash

Boss of the Arctic raged. It occurred to Bruce that it would be hard to bury Slim if

e bunk and dumped the contents on the table, hoping with all his heart that he would not find an addr

," and a box of quinine pills. No papers, no letters, not a single clew to his identity. Bruce felt relief. Wait-what was this? He took the ba

up into his. He knew intuitively that it was Slim's sister, yet the resembla

unt of something good." There was no mistaking the r

professional tramps with whom he had hoboed over the West-a "gay cat," as he was pleased to call himself, when boasting of the "toughness" of his life

him in Meadows, he had talked correctly, even brilliantly, and he had had an undeniable charm of manner for men and women alike. But, once

"black sheep," Bruce thought,

hotograph, with an address and a date

't know what we will do because there are mortgages on everything and we don't keep horses any more and only one servant which is pretty hard for mother. The girl is sassy sometimes but mother can't let her go because she can't pay her yet. Please, Freddie, come home a

le

my picture. I wish I could go West too,

t he had even kept the letter. He looked again at the date line-twelve years-the mortgages had long since been f

his partner, Slim? What more had he accomplished? How much more difference would his own death make in anybody's life? His mother's labored words came back with painful distinctness: "I've had such hopes for you, my little boy. I've dreamed such dreams for you-I wanted to see them all c

that he should like to place it on her finger. There had been women, of a kind-"Peroxide Louise," in Meadows, with her bovine coquetry and loud-mouthed vi

t he-the thought now came gradually, and grew-why shouldn't he assume the responsibilities Slim shirked i

press them half the dust and tell them that 'twas Slim's. He'd--"OO-oo-ough!" he shi

able. The still body on the bunk grew stark while he slept, the swift-running river froze from shore to shore, the snow piled in drifts, obliterating trails and blocking passes,