The Twins of Suffering Creek

f him. Nature had given him an expression that suggested bewilde

used in his labors, and his mild, questioning blue eyes sought the woman's intent face. His stubby, work-soiled fingers would rake their way through his straw-colored hair, which grew

and at each shrill piping the man's pale eyes lit into a smile of parental tendern

atisfactorily smeared, and the dirt spread to the necessary con

but I'm right up to this patch. If you'd kind of lift your feet, an' tuck yo

glow of strong youth and health in every feature of her well-shaped face. She was taller than her diminutive husband, and, in every detail of expression, his antithesis. She wore a

s words with a glance

orry––" he

cut hi

eet upon the stove, tucked her skirts about her. Then, utte

tove. Scipio was hurrying, and consequently floundering. It wa

He emptied his bucket upon the few an?mic cabbages which grew in an u

solitary opening for a window, and in the center of the room was a roughly manufactured table, laden with the remains of several repasts. Breakfast was the latest, and the smell of coffee and fried pork still hung

ce was, it might, in the hands of a busy housewife, have presented a very different appearance. But Jessie was not a good housewife. She hated the care of her little home. She was not a bad woman, b

ied out. But his knowledge of business was limited to the signing of checks in favor of anyone who wanted one, and, as a consequence, by the time th

e broken foothills of the Rocky Mountains––basking in the sunshine of a Sunday afternoon haze, were suddenly startled by the apparition of a small wagon, driven by a smaller man with yellow hair,

mily once more on a sound financial basis, had come in search of the gold whic

fragment of humanity at the end of the reins was like nothing they had ever seen; the children were a source of wondering astonishment; but the wo

uetry. Her figure was all that a woman's should be. Yes, the camp lik

rinces when money was plentiful, and starved when Fortune frowned. There were men amongst them who had never felt the softer side of life, and men who had been ruthlessly kicked from that downy couch. There were good men and scoundrels, workers and loafers; there were m

dness, his never-failing good-nature got hold of this cluster of ruffians. They laughed at him––he was

se of responsibility and duty to those who belonged to him. But somehow he seemed to lack any due sense of proportion in those things which were vital to their be

The twins needed air. Then the nearer he was to the creek, where the gold was to be found, the better. And again his prospecting must tap a part of it where the diggers had not y

il the foundations of the house had been laid, and the walls were already half their full height, that he realized, f

th characteristic persistence, he completed his work

the necessity of green vegetables in his ménage. So he promptly flew to the task of arranging a cabbage patch. The result was a foregone conclusion. He dug and planted his patch. Nor

rienced gold-seeker ever departs from. These were all carefully explained to him by willing tongues. Then, after poring over all he had le

lackness about the soil, and it gave out a faint but unrecognizable odor, that, in the bright mountain air, was quite pleasant. For several hundred yards the ground of this flat was rankly spongy, wi

been told of the craft he was embarking upon, he plunged his pi

heads and laughed. Then their laugh died out and their hard eye

ize his worship for his wife. His was a love such as rarely falls to the lot of woman. And his devotion to his girl and boy twins was something quite beyond words. These

to the breaking-point with his toil, and consumed by a hunger that was well-nigh painful, when food was short he never seemed to realize his needs until Jes

His eyes drifted across to his wife. She was still reading. A light sigh escaped him. He felt he should be out o

of the plates that

bathing the children next. Say, you can just leave those things a

e it 'ud help y

roke in. "You get right out and hustle gold

don't," Scipio expostulated mildly.

e an artif

now it. You're here to do a man's work, same as any other man. You get out and find the

her thoughts been rudely dragged back from the seductive contemplation of the doings of the wealthy ones as the dime fiction-writer sees them, but there was a feeli

they troubled her, yet had power to stimulate and excite her; thoughts which she

d household duties confronting her; duties she was longing to be free of, duties which she wa

to the inner workings of her indolent, selfish spirit, and was always ready t

dn't blame you any, if you did. But––but ther' seems such a heap to be done––for you to do," he went on, glancing with mild vengefulness at the litter. "Say," he cried, with a sudd

nnermost heart she knew that she had no desire to do the work; she hated it, she was lazy. She knew that he was far better than she; good, even noble, in spite of his mental powers being so

She had that instinct of good that made it a guilty secret. Yet she k

t she was not vicious. She was not even less than good in her moral instincts. Only she was we

ound you, and if you have any idea of things at all what can you see but a miserable hog pen? Yes, that's it, a hog pen. And we are the hogs. You and me, and––and the little ones. Why haven't you got some 'get up' about you? Why don't you earn some money, get some someh

I'm real sorry y

tic in its display of that kindly purpose, which, where his wife was concerned, was never-failing. Jessie saw, angry as she was, and her fine eyes sof

nd mechanically gathered some of the tin p

ss. We're right here with two kiddies and––and ourselves, and there's practically no money and no prospects of there being any. It makes me want to cry. It makes me want to do something desperate. It makes me hate things––even those th

nd stared ou

n first with you, and, Zip––and you've no call to think much of me. Yes, I know what you'd say. I'm the most perfect woman on earth. I'm not. I'm not even good. If I were I'd be glad of all you try to do; I'd help you. But I don't, and––and I just don't seem able to. I'm always sort of longing and

e great tears that threatened to roll down her rounded cheeks. In a moment Scipio was

u to. It ain't you, Jess, it's me who's bad. It's me who's a fool. I hain't no more sense than a buck rabbit, and I ain't sure a new-littered pup couldn't put me to sleep for savvee. Now don't you go to crying. Don't you indeed. I just can't bear to see those beautiful eyes o' yours all red and running tears. And, say, we sure have got better prospects than you're figgering. You see, I've got a claim there's no

es. She knew. She knew, with the rest of the camp, the hopelessness of his quest, and even in her worst moments she

in it, "don't you get staying around here or I'll keep right on crying. You get out to your

med suddenly to startle her. Her more gentle look sudden

help you with all these

ly quite forgotten her

me. Their little lives are just beginning. They are quite helpless. You must work for them, and work as you've never done before. They are ours, and we love the

condition did not enter into his calculations. How should it? The reason of things seemed to be something which his mind could neither grasp nor even inquire into. She was troubled, and he––well, it made him unhappy. She s

was her chief concern. How she hated it. The water grew cold and greasy, and every time she dipped her cloth into it she shuddered. Again and again her eyes turned upon the window surveying the bright sunlight out

r was emptied and hung upon the wall. She swabbed the table carelessly

games of the twins squatting out in the sun, digging up the du

later a shadow flitted across the window. Then suddenly a man's head and shoulders filled up the ope

n a suppressed t

, suddenly appeared in the doorway. Her eyes were glowing with excitement and fear. But her rich co