Evening Star Newspaper, December 4, 1897, Page 20

THE EVENING STAR, SATURDAY, DECEMBER 4, 1897—26 PAGES. 2. UNCLE JIM AND UNCLE BILLY ‘a ‘WRITTEN FOR THE EVENING STAR BY BRET HARTE. NY ——_e—____ 2) 522) (Copyright, 1807. by Bret Harte.) SI OLOWONOOY folicetl Two Lee) WO) WOOW Xse.(seh: WO WOWOWNOY | se. wes, xe). PART I. ‘They were partners. The avuncular Ltle was bestowed on them by Cedar C: possibly m recognition of @ certain tured good-humor, quite distinct from the spasmodic exuberant sp'rits of its other memiers, and possibly from what, to its iful sense, seemed their advanced ag ch must have n at least forty this act was rather one of easy-going, sel- fish, youthful familiarity than of rudeness. The cabin of Uncles Billy and Jim was con- sicered a public right or “common” of the camp. Conferences between miners were appointed there. “I'll meet uu at Uncle Billy's” was a common tryst. Added to this was a tacit claim upon their advisory or arbitrative powers, or the equal right to request them to step out- side if the interviews were of a private ‘They had also set habit: even in their im-| nature. Yet there was never any objec- provilence, lost Incaleulabie and unpayable; ton on the pert of the partners, and to- 2 jy | Hight there was not a shadow of resent- sums ick other over euchre regularly | ment of this intrusion in the patient, good- every evening, and inspected their sluice | humored, tolerant eyes of Uncles Jim and boxes punctually every Saturday for re-| Billy as they gazed at their guest. Perhaps pairs—which they never m: They even | there was a slight gleam of relief in Uncle Jim's when he found that the guest was unaccompanied by any one, and that it was hot 2 tryst. It would have been un- pleasant for the two pariners to stay out got to resemble each other, after the fash- ion of old married couples, or, rather, as in matrimonial partnerships, were subject to the domination of the stronger charac-{ in the rain while their guests ae ee ji ema eae eared | Changing private confidences in thelr beri l C peeks rt | cabin. While there might have been no that it was the feminine uncle y—en- | limit to their good will, there might have thusiastic, imeginative ard loquacious—wh>| been one to their capacity for exposure. swayed the masculine. steady-going and| Uncle Jim drew a huge log from beside practical Unele Jim. They had lived in the| the hearth and sat on the dry end of it, mp since its foundation in 1849; there | While their guest occupied the stool. The Seemed to be ro reason why they Shouldn't} Young man, without turning away from remain there until its inevitabie evolution | his discontented, peevish brooding over the into a mining town. The younger members | fire, vaguely reached backward for the | might leave through restless ambition or | Whisky bottle and Uncle Billy’s tin cup, | @ desire for change or novelty; they were! to which he was assisted by the latter's aati to no such trifling mutation. Yet | hospltable hand. But on setting down the cup his eye caught sight of the pill box. r Cam 3 re ed e day to hear aie ein eae ee “Wot's that?” he said with gloomy scorn. Ce t Uncle Billy was gi ie away. The rain was softly falling on the bark | “itat poison os a ie thate! the cabin with a mufiied mur-| “‘Quinine pills—agin ager,” said Uncle mur, like a sound heard through sleep. | Jim. “The newest thing out. Keeps out The southwest trades were warm even Gamp like Injin rubber! ‘Take one to follow that alttrude, as the open door testified, al-| yer whisky. Me and Uncle Billy wouldn't though a fire ef pine bark was flickering | think o’ settin’ down, quet like, in the even- en the odobe earth and striking out answer- from the freshly scoured culinary = on the rush sideboard, wnich uncle i cleaned that rning with his jeus persistency. Their best wiich were interchangeable and nately by each other on fest: hung on the walls, which were covered with @ coarse saiicloth canvas Sified with pictures from ‘illustrated papers na stains from the exterior weather. Two bunks.” ike ship's berths, an upper and ver one, occupied the gable of tnis single riment, and on beds of coarse sacking, with dry moss, were carefully rolled respective blankets and pillows. They the only articles not used in com- mon, and whose individuality was respec > Jim, who had been sitting before bulk of his part- with an arm- By that the last six years Uncle Billy had regularly brought im the wood at that hovr, and Uncle Jim ad as regularly closed the door after him, and set out their single table, containing a greasy pack of cards taken from its draw- er, a bottle of whisky and two tin drinking cups. To this was added a ragged merio- rendum beck 2nd a stick of pencil. The ‘¢W their stools to the table. on a minit,” said Uncle Billy. partner laid down the cards as Uncle Biliy extracted from his pocket a pill box, aod, opening it, gravely took a pill. This was clearly an innovation on their regular Proceedings, for Uncle Billy was always in perfect health. “What's this for?" asked Uncle Jim, half scornfully. “Agin ager.” ‘ou ain't got no ager,” said Uncle Jim, with the assurance of intimate cognizance of his partner’s physical condition. “But it's a pow’ful preventive! Saw this box at Riley’s store, and laid out a quarter on it. We kin keep it here, com- Quinine! individual } the mud of this cussed camp? And while you're doing this, aren’t you, by your age and positicn here, holding out hopes to others that you know cannot be fulfilled?” Accustomed as they were to the half querulcus, half humorous, but always ex- travagant criticism of the others, there was something so new in this arraignment of themselves that the partners for a _mo- ment sat silent. There was a slight flush on Uncle Billy’s cheek, there was a slight paleness on Uncle Jim's. He was the first to reply. But he did so with a certain dignity which neither his partner nor their guest had ever seen on his face before. “As it's our fire that's warmed ye up like this, Dick Bullen,” he said, slowly ris- ing, with his hand resting on Uncle Billy's shoulder, “and as it’s our whisky that’s loosened your tongue, I reckon we must put up with what ye’r sayin’, just as we've managed to put up with our own way 0’ living—and not quo’ll with ye under our own roof.” The young fellow saw the change in Uncle Jim's face and quickly extended his hand, with an apologetic backward shake of his long hair. “Hang it :1l, old man,” he said with a laugh of mingled contrition and amusement, “you mustn't mind what I said just now, I've been so worried think- ing of things about myself, and, maybe a little about you, that I quite forgot 1 hadn't a call to preach to anybody—least of all to You. So we part friends, Uncle Jim, and you, too, Uncle Billy, and you'll forget what I said. In fact, I doa’t know why I spoke at all—only I was passing your claim just now, and wondering how much longer your old sluice boxes would hold out, and where, in thunder, you'd get others when they caved in! I reckon that sent me off. That's all, old chap!" Uncle Billy's face broke into a beaming smile of relief, and it was his hand that first grasped his guest's; Uncle Jim quickly followed with as honest a pressure, but with eyes that did not seem to be looking at Bullen, though all trace of resentment had died out of them. He walked to the door with him, again shook hands, but re- mained looking out in the darkness some time after Dick Bullen’s tangled hair and broad shoulders had disappeared. Meantime Uncle Billy had resumed his seat and he was chuckling and reminiscent as he cleaned out his pipe. “Kinder reminds me of Jo Sharp, when he was cleaned out at poker by his own partners in his own cabin, comin’ up here and bedevilin’ us about it! What was it you lint him?” But Uncle Jim did not reply; and Uncle Billy, taking up the cards, began to shuffle them, smiling vaguely, yet at the same time somewhat painfully. ‘Arter all, Dick was mighty cut up about what he said, and I feit kinder sorry for him. And, you know, I rather cotton to a man that speaks his mind. Sorter cleans him out, you “HERE YOU STICK, AND HERE YOU ARE!” fertable, for everings. It’s mighty soothin’ ing arter work, without ‘em. Take one— damp like Injin rubber! Take one to fololw the boys.”* Accustomed as the artners were to adopt and wear each other's cpinions be- fore folks, as they did each. other's cloth- ing, Uncle Billy was,neverthe astonish- ed and delighted at Uncle Jim's enthusiasm arter a man’s done a hard day's work on | the river bar. Take one.” Un le Jim gravely took a pill and swa . and handed the box back to his part “We'll leave it on the table, sociable like, said Un- “Well, how in case any of the boys ccme in cle B . taking up the cards. na?” over his pills. The guest took one and 4 sulted? the memorandum | 8Wallowed it. é ; A hp parapet ori sixty-two thon: Mighty bitter!” he said, glancing at his lars en the last and the lim- | hosts with the quick Californian su "s five thousana®” of some ctical joke. But the “Je whillikins!" ejaculated Uncle Billy. | faces of the pariners reassured him. “Let me see.” hat bitterness ye taste,” said Uncle quickly, s work. “is whar the thing’s gettin’ Sorter sickenin’ the malaria— He exan to chalienge the additio: fect on the total “We oughter hev made | and kinder waterproofin’ the insides all to the limit a hundred thotsand,” he said, se- | onct and at the same lick! Don't yer seo? riously; “seventy-five thousand fs only tri- | Put another in yer vest pocket; you'll be fin’ in’a game like ours. And you've set | crying’ for ‘em like a child afore ye get down my claim at Angel's?” he continued. | home. Thar! Well, how's things agoin’ on “T allowed you ten thousand dollars for | your claim, I Boomin’, eh aid nele Jim, with equal gravity, fancy price, too.” aim in question bemg an pected hillside ten miles distant, which U cle Jim had never seen, and Uncle Billy i turned it swer back over houlder at his h don't know what you'll call ‘boomin,’ he said, gloo: ily; “I suppose you two men sitting here had not visited for yeats, the statement j comfortably by the fire, without caring was probably true; nevertheless, Uncle Bil- | whether school keeps or not, would call ly retorted: two feet of backwater over one’s claim “Ye kin never tell how these things will | ‘bcomin’;” I reckon you'd consider a hun- pan out. Why, only this mornin’ I was | dred and fifty feet of sluicing carried away, tekin’ a tura round Shot Up hill, that ye | and drifting to thunder down the South know !s just rotten with quartz and gold. | Fish, something in the way of advertising and I couldn't help thinkin’ how much it] to your old claim. I suppose you'd think was like my ole claim at Angel's. I must | jt was an inducement to investors! I take a day off to go on there and strike a| shouldn't wonder,” he added, still more pick in ft, if only for luck.” gloomily, as a sudden dash of rain down Suddenly he paused and said: “Strange.| the wide-throated chimney dropped in his t it you should speak of it tonight? | tin cup—“and it would be just like you two Now. I call that queer.” chaps, sittin’ there gormandizing over your He laid down his cards and gazed mys-| quinine, if yer said this rain, that’s lasted teriously at hi8 companion. Uncle Jim] three weeks, was something to be proud knew perfectly that Uncle Billy had regu- | of.” larly once a week. for many years. de-| Jt was the cheerful and satisfying cus- clared his final determination to go over to| tom of the rest of the camp, for nn resend Angel's and prospect his claim, yet never-| whatever, to hold Uncle Jim and Uncle Bil- theless he half responded to his partner's | ty responsible for its present ioedtien. ite Suggestion of mystery, and a look of fatu- | vicissitudes, the weather, or any convulsion ous wonder crept into his eyes. But he! of nature; and it was equally the partners’ contented himself by €. cautiously. | habit, for no reason whatever, to accept “You spoke of it first.” these animadversions, and apologize. “That's the more sing’lar, “It's a rain that's soft and mellowin,’” said Uncle Billy confidently. “And I've been thinking | said Uncle Billy gently, “and supplin’ to the about it and kinder seeing myself thar all | sinews and muscles. Did ye ever notice, day. It's mighty queer!” He got up and | jim" tatiously to his partner—“did began to rummage among some torn and ye ever notice that you get inter a kind o' sweaty lather workin’ in it? Sorter open- in’ to the pores! beoks in the corner. “Where's that dream book gone to?” The Carson bi borrowed It,” replied | “Fetches ‘em every time,” said Uncle Bil- Unele “AN: » yours wasn't no ly. “Better nor fancy soap.” dream a kin vision. and the book | “Their guest laughed bitterly. “Well, I'm don't take no stock in visions.” Neverthe- | going to leave ‘it to you. I reckon to cut 1 he ate Seat < abt oe | the whole concern tomorrow, and lite out for something new. It can't be worse than that I had « dr ; | this.” eer and GH thes time bette eae ob thes two iparinsrs tookedl given eaibae Posto rer Per brat ec they were accustomed to these outbursis, poet biped partner, eagerly, yet re-| Everybody who thought of going away Sr atuhe ‘ou never let on anything | ffom Cedar Camp used {t first as a threat Rhout it to me! Its mighty queer you | t© these patient men, after the fashion of havin’ these strange feelin’s—for I've haa | TUN4Way nephews, or made an exemplary scene of their going. “Better think twice before ye go,” said Unele Bill, “I've seen worse weather afore ye came,” said Uncle Jim slowly. “Water all over the bar: the mud so deep ye couldn't get ‘em myself. And only tonight. comin’ up from the spring, I saw two crows hopping in the trail, and I says if I see another it’s luek, sure! And you'll think I'm lyin’, but when I went to the wood pile just now there was the third one sittin’ up on a log as plain as I see you. Teil ye what, folks; to Angel's for a sack o’ flour and we had kin laugh—but that's just what Jim Filgee | to grub on pine nuts and jackass rabbits. saw the night afore he made the big | And yet—we stuck by the camp, and here strike!” we are! They were both smiling, yet with an un-| The mild answer apparently goaded their derlying credulity and seriousness as sin- gularly pathetic as {t seemed incongrous to their years and intelligence. Small won- der, however, that in their occupation and environment—living daily in an atmosphere of hope. expectation, and chance, looking forward each morning to the blind stroke of a pick that might bring fortune—they should see signs in nature and hear mystic voices in the trackless woods that sur- Tounded them. Still less strange that they were peculiarly susceptible to the more recognized diversions of chance, and were gamblers on the turning of a card who trusted to the revelation of a shovelful of upturned earth. it was quiie natural, therefore, that they should return from their abstract form of divination to the table and their cards. But they were scarcely seated before they heard a cracking step in the brush outside, and the free latch of their door wag lifted. A younger member of the camp entered. He uttered a peevish “Halloo™ which might have passed for a greeting, or might have been a slight protest at finding the door closed, drew the stool from which Unele Jim had just risen before the fire, shook his wet clothes like a Newfoundland dog, and sat down. Yet he was by no Wears churlish nor coarse looking, and guest to fury. He rose from his seat, threw back his long dripping hair from his handsome but querulous face, arid gcat- tered a few drops on the partners. “Yes, that’s just it. That's what gets me! Here you stick, and here you are! And here you'll stick and rust until you starve or drown! Here you are, two men who ought to be out in the world, playing your part grown men, stuck here like chil- dren ‘playing house’ in the w. laying work in your wretched mudpie ditches, and content. Two men not so old that you mightn’t be taking your part in the fun of the world, going to balls or theaters, or paying attention to girls, and yet old enough to have married and have your families around you, content to stay in this God-forsaken place, old bachelors, pig- ging together lie poor house paupers. That's what gets me! Say you like it! Say you expect by hanging on to make a strike— and what does that amount to? What are your chances? How many of us have mad or are making, more than grub wages’ Say you're willing to share and share alike as you do—have you got enough for two? Aren’t you actually living off each other? Aren’t you grinding each other down, choking each other's struggles, as you sink together deeper and deeper in know, of all the sluice-gushin’ that’s in him. It’s just like washin’ out a pan o° prospectin’; you pour in the water and keep slushing it round and round, and out comes first the mud and dirt, and’ then the gravel, and then the black sand, and then it's all out, and there's a speck 0’ gold glistenin’ at the bottom! “Then you think there was suthin’ what he said?” said Uncle Jim, about slowly. an odd tone in his voice made Uncle Billy look up. “No,” he said quickly, shy- ing with the instinct of an easy, pleasure- loving nature from a possible grave situa. tion. “No, I don’t think he ever got the color! But what are ye moonin’ about for? Ain't ye goin’ to lay? It’ i t= Sen Dee piay? It’s mor'n halt. Thus adjured, able and sat d in facing » Uncle Jim moved up to the own, while Uncle Billy dealt ards, turning up the jack or right ower—but without that exclamation of de- light which always accompanied his good fortune, nor did Uncle Jim respond with the usual corresponding simulation of deep cisgust. Such a circumstance had not oc~ curred before in the history of their part- nership. They both played in silence—a silence only interrupted by a larger splash of ear down the chimney. “We orter put a couple of stones chimney top, edgewise, like Jack ‘carne does. It keeps out the r: ‘ain without inter- ferin’ with the draft,” sal: J y, mais ge ld Uncle Billy, aves the use if——" ‘if what? sald Uncle Billy, quietly “If we don’t make it broader,” af Jim, halt wearily. Saecoce They both stared at the chimne Uncle Jim’s eye followed the wall sears ere were many disc: . tions on the canvas, and a picture Of the Goddess of Liberty’ from an illustrated of damp, easly eruption. “I'll stick that funny bill of the |‘washin’ soda’ I got at the etecery, sucerwie other day right over the perty gal. It’s a mighty per washin’ with short aleeyens? Sates Billy. “That's the comfort of t you kin always get something adds thickness to the wall.” Uncle Jim went back to the cards in si- lence. After a moment he rose again, and hung his overcoat against the door, “Wind's comin’ in,” he said, briefly. “Yes,” sald Uncle Billy, cheerfully, “but it wouldn’t seem nat'ral if there wasn't that crack in the door to let the sunlight in o’ mornin’s. Makes a kind o° sundial, you know. When the streak o° light’s in that corner, I says ‘6 o'clock! when it's “ross the chimney I say ‘7!" and so ‘tis!’ It certainly had grown chilly, and the wind was rising. The candle guttered and flickered; the embers on the hearth bright- ened occasionally, es if trying to dispel the gathering shadows, but always. ineffect- ually. ‘The game was frequently interrupt- ed by the necessity of stirring the fire. After an interval of gloom, in which each partner successively drew the candle to his side to examine his cards, Uncle Jim said: “Say “Well!” responded Uncle Billy. “Are you sure you saw that bird crow on the woodpile?” “Sure as I see you now-—and a darned sight plainer. Why?” ‘Nothin’. I was just thinkin’ Look here! How do we stand now?” Uncle Billy was still losing. Neverthe- fess, he said cheerfully, “I’m owin’ you a matter of $60,000. Uncle Jim examined the book abstracted- ly. “Suppose.” he said slowly, but with- out looking at his partner, “suppose, as it’s gettin’ late now, we play for my half share of the claim again the. limit—$70,000 —to square up.’ “Your half share!” repeated Uncle Billy with amused incredulity. “My half share of the clatm—of this yer house, you know—one-half of all that Dick Eullen calls our rotten starvation crty,” reiterated Uncle Jim, with a hal! smile. Uncle Billy laughed. It was a novel idea; it was, of course, ‘all in the air,” like ‘the rest of their game, yet even then he had an odd feeling that he would have ilked Dick Bullen to know it. “Wade in, “T’'m on it. Uncle Jim lit another candle to reinforce the fading light, and the deal fell to Uncie Billy, He turned up jack of clubs. He elso turned a little redder as he'took up his — locked at en. and ——- hastily at rtner. “ use playing,” he eald. Pook here!” He fala down his cards on the table. They were the acre, king and queen of clubs and jack of or left bower, which, with the t paper had broken out in a kind m. -up jack of they bring answers. = bower, comprised all the clubs, or right winning cards! “By jingo! If we'd,,been playin’ four- handed, say you an’ me agin some other ducks, we'd have; four in that deal, and h’isted some ney, eh?’ and his eyes sparkled. Uncle Jim's, also, had a slight tremulous light ee pe one. “Oh, no! I didn't seg no three crows this afternoon!” added,Uncte Billy gleefully, as his partner, in turn, n to shuffle the cards with laborious and conscientious ex- actitude. Then ling, he turned up a heart for trumps. Uncle Billy took up his cards one by one, but when he had finished his face had bec: as pale as it had been red before. 3 the matter?” said cae Jim quickly, hig own face growing white. Uncie Billy slowly, dnd with breathless awe, laid down hjs cariis, face up, on the tuble. It was exactly the sequence in hearts, with the Khave of diamonds added. He could again trke,every trick. They stared at each other with vacant faces and a half-drawn smile of fear. They could hear the wind moaning in the trees beyond; there was a sudden rattling at the door. Uncle Billy started to his feet, but Uncle Jim caught his arm. ‘Don't leave the cards! It’s only the wind; sit down,” he said, in a low, awe-hushed voice; “it’s your deal; you were two before, and two now, that makes you four; you've only one point to make to win the game. Gc on.” They both poured out a cup of ‘whisky, smiling vaguely, yet with a certain te ror In their eyes. Their hands were col the cards slipped from Uncle Billy's be- numbed fingers; when he had shuffled them he passed them to his partner to shuMle them also, but did not speak. When Uncle Jim had ‘shuffled them methodically he hatded them back fatefully to his part- rer. Uncle Billy dealt them with a trem- bling hand. He turned up a club. “If you are sure of these tricks you know you've won,” said Uncle Jim, in # voice that was scarcely audible. Uncle Lilly did not re- ply, but tremulously laid down the ace and right and left bowers. He had won! A feeling of relief came over each, and they: laughed hysterically and discordant- ly. Ridiculous and childish as their con- test might have seemed to a looker-on, to each the tension had been as great as that of the greatest gambler, without the gam- bler’s trained restraint, coolness and com- posure. Uncle Billy nervously took up the cards again. ae “Don't,” said Uncle Jim, gravely; “it's no use—the’ luck’s gone now.” “Just one more deal,” pleaded his part- ner. 2 A Uncle Jim looked at the fire, Uncle Billy hastily dealt, and threw the two hands face up on the table. They were the or- dinary average cards. He dealt again, with the same result. “I told you so,” said Uncle Jim, without looking up. ft certainly seemed a tame performance after their wonderful hands, and after an- other trial Uncle Billy threw the cards aside and drew his stool before the fire. “Mighty queer, warn’t it?” he said, with reminiscent awe. “Three times running! Do you know, I felt a kind o' creepy feelin down my back all the time. Cricky! what luck! None of the boys would believe it if we told "em—least of all that Dick Bul- len, who don’t believe in luck, anyway. Wonder what he'd have said! and, Lord! how he'd have looked! Wall! what are you starin’ so for?” Uncle Jim had ced around, and was gazing at Uncle Billy’s good-natured, sim- ple face. ‘‘Nothin’!”” he said briefly, and his eyes again sought the fire. “Then don’t look as if you was seein’ suthin'—you give me the cre returned Uncle Billy a little petulantly. ‘Let's turn in—afore the fire goes out!” ‘The fateful cards were put back in the drawer, the table shoved against the wall. The operation of undressing was quickly got over, the clothes they wore being put on top of their blarikets. Uncle Billy yawn- ed. “I wonder what kind of a dream I'll have tonight—it oyghter be suthin’ to ex- plain that luck.” This. was his “good night” to his partner. In a few moments he was sound asleep. Not so Uncle Jim. He heard the wind gradually go down, and in the oppressive silence that followed could detect the deep breathing of his companion and the far-off yelp of a coyote. His eyesight becoming accustomed to the semi-darkness, broken only by the scintillation of the dying em- bers of their fire, te could take in every de- tail of their sordid’ cabin, and the rude en- vironment ia which they had Nyed so long. The dismal patches on the bark roof, th wretched makeshifts of each day, the dreary prolongation of dfscomfort, were all plain to him now, without the sanguine hope that had made them bearable. And when he shut his eyes upon them, it was only to travel ‘in fancy down the steep mountain side that he had trodden so often to the dreary claim on the overflowed river, to the heaps of “tailings” that incumbered it, like empty shells of the hollow, profit- ss 'S spent there, which they were al- ways waiting for the stroke of good for- tune to clear away. He saw again the rotten “sluicing,”” through whose hopeless rifts and holes even their scant daily earn- ings had become scanter. At last he arose, and with infinite gentleness let himself down from his berth without disturbing his sleeping partner, and wrapping himself in his blanket, went to the door, which he notselessly opened. From the position of a few stars that were glittering in the north- ern sky he knew that it was yet scarcely midnight—there were still long, restless hours before the day! In the feverish state into which he had gradually worked him- self it seemed to him impossible to wait the coming of the dawn. But he was mistaken. stood there all nature seemed to invade his humble cabin with its free and fra- grant breath, and invest him with {ts great companionship. He felt again, in that breath, that strange sense of freedom— that mystic touch of partnership with the birds and beasts, the shrubs and trees, in this greater home before him. It was this vague communion that had kept him there —that still held these world-sick, weary workers in their rude cabins on the slopes around him—and he felt upon his brow that balm that had nightly lulled him and them to sleep and forgetfulness. He closed the door, turned away, crept as noiselessly as before into his bunk again, and presently fell into a profound slumber. But when Uncle Billy awoke the next morning he gaw it was late, for the sun, piercing the crack of the closet door, was sending a percil of light across the cold hearth, like @ match to rekindle its dead embers. His first thought was of his strange luck the night before, and of dis- appointment that he had not had the dream of divination that he had looked for. He sprang to the floor, but as he stood upright his glance fell on Uncle Jim’s bunk. It was empty. Not cnly that, but his biankets— Uncle Jim’s own particular blankets—were ne! aN sudden revelation of his partner's man- ner the night before struck him now with the cruelty of a biow; a sudden intelligence —perhaps the very divination he had sought—flashed upon him like lightning! He glanced wildly around the cabin. The table was drawn out from the wall a little ostentatiously, as if to catch his eye. On it was lying the stained chamois skin purse in which they had kept the few grains of gold remaining from their last’ week’s “clean up.” The grains had been carefully @ivided, and half been taken! But near it lay the little memorandum book, open, with the steck of pencil lying across it. A deep line was drawn across the page on which was recorded their imaginary ex- travagant geins and losses, even to the entry of Uncle Jim's half share of the claim which he had risked and lost! Underneath For even as he were hurriedly scritwled’ the worde: “Settled by youm lua, last night, old pard.—James Fosten.” ,. Gind pf Part 1) « ———+e-___ ‘The Fat One—“Say, stranger, how far is it to Jones’ place?” ede One—“Oh, about twenty min- utes’ walk.” : “For you, tr for me?’—Life. ——— + e+ “Want” ads. in The Star pay because OFFICER AND MAN Two Instances Where Brothers Have Served Together. IN DIFFERENT RANK AND STATION The Same Thing Has Happened in the Army and the Navy. STRANGE COINCIDENCES Written for The Evening Star. NSTANCES ARE not lacking, either in the army or in the navy, of the acci- dental juxtaposition of pairs of brothers in the same military Post or on board the same ship, one broth- er wearing the uni- form of an officer and the other the uni- form of an enlisted subordinate. It is a . difficult situation for two men to be placed in, and in most cases the officer and his brother, the enlisted man, have mutually consented to keep their relationship secret. There is probably no ease of this kind on record, however, in which the relationship thus concealed has not sooner or later been revealed owing to inevitable wrangling between the two brothers. es A singular example of such a case crop- ped out in the trial by general court-mar- tial of a soldier in Montana in 1877. The soldier, who was a younger son of a New York man, who in his day was notable as @ wit, had been expelled from West Point for wildness and general incorrigibility. Rather than face the humiliation of going home to his people after his expulsion, he Went to Philadelphia and enlisted as a private soldier in the army. Several years previous to this, his eldest brother had sraduated from West Point with high hon- ors, and was now first Heutenant of a cavalry troop in a regiment that was oper- ating against Chief Joseph in ihe Nez Per- ces war in Montana. When the young man, who had been dismissed from West Point, ascertained that he was to be sent to the same Montana post at which his brother was stationed, and that he might even be assigned to the same troop of which his brother was first Heutenant—for he had enlisted as a cavalryman—he made every effort short of applying to his people in New York for the exercise of their influ- ence to get himself assigned to some other outfit, for in enlisting in the army as a private soldier he had formed the some- what boyish and unnecessary determina- tion not to Iet his people know anything as to his whereabouts until he had in a measure “redeemed” himself by one enlist- ment of upright and perhaps even heroic soldiering under an assumed name. A Strange Meeting. He did not succeed in having the detail altered, however, and, with a large batch of recruits, he was sent out to the Montana post at which his brother, the first lieu- tenant, was stationed. When the recruits lined up at the commanding officer's head- quarters for distrituticn among the vari- cus cavalry troops, the ex-cadet suffered the additional mortification of hearing his fictitiovs name called out for assignment to his brother’s trcop. The two men did not meet until reveille. The the first lieutenant jndjcated by the slightest momentary frown that he Tecog- rized bis brother, who stood in the rear rank, with his eyes straight before him. Whether the brothers had any secret meet- ing or mutual understanding did not come out, but the ex-cadet received no extra favors at the hands of the first Heutenant of his troop. It was, in fact, observed that he was treated a trifle harshly on several occasions by that officer, who was a disciplinarian—almost a martinet. The ex-cadet, with his couple of years of rigid training at West Point, made a fine cavalryman. He was rather put to it eal his knowledge of drill and other ly duties, for had he displayed all that he knew before the officers of the regiment he would have excited their sus- picions st once and probably have been immediately court-martialed for fraudulent enlistment—for in enlisting he, of course, made no reference to his experience at the Point. Earned His Chevrons. The sutler’s store began to have rather too much of a fascination for him after nis first few months of soldiering, and he even- tually found himself in the guardhouse, working out a ten-day sentence, as the result of a pay-day drunk. This did not help him in the gocd graces of his brother, whose disposition to treat him with un. merited severity had a good deal to do with his sutler’s store lapses. When he came out of the guardhouse his regiment was just about to move against Chief Jo- seph. During the difficult campaign of the ensuing few months the ex-cadet conduct- ed _himse!f with such remarkable discre- tion, nerve and gallantry that the cap- tain of his troop promoted him first to the corporal’s chevrons and then made him a sergeant. When Chief Joseph was finally rounded up with his tribe and forced to see that further resistance would be use- lees, he sent his couriers into the army lines to ask for a consultation as to the terms of surrender. He also asked for hostages, his couriers to he held as hos- tages in exchange—and the couriers, of whom there were six, were all minor chiefs. The ex-cadet was the first man to volunteer to go to Chief Joseph’s camp as a hostage, and he went, and remained in the camp for several days, while nego- tations between the Indian chief and the army officers were in progress. This got him the chevrons of a regimental sergeant major. When his regiment returned to garrison, the first man the sergeant-major saw on the parade ground was a second lieutenant, just out from West Point, whom he had badly whipped in a prize fight at the Point a couple of years before. The second lieu- tenant saw the sergeant-major at the same time, and he repaired immediately to the commanding officer’s quarters to report what he knew of the sergeant-major’s rec- ord. The sergeant-major, knowing that he was caught, and consequently reckless, re- paired io the sutler’s store and became ex- ceedingly drunk. He emerged from the sutler’s store to face his brotner, who had already been called up to the commanding officer's quarters to receive a wigging for not having revealed his relationship to the ex-cadet, and who was pretty sore in con- sequence. His appearance at the sutler’s store sobered his enlisted brother, who stood to attention and saluted. But Not a Cad. “You're a d—d loafer, sir,” said the first eutenant. “That may be,” said the sergeant-major. “But there's one thing that I am not—a d—4 cad; that’s what you are. “Are you aware that you are addressing your superior officer, sir?” inquired the first lieutenant, white with rage. “Perfectly,” said his reckless brother, “and by the same token I’m going to knock my superior officer down.” Suiting the action to the word, he caught his brot! with the shoulder straps on the point of the jaw with his right fist, and knocked him down and out. He was in chains in the guardheuse dungeon three The changes against him when he faced The charges im when he fa the general court were Rn to land him in a military prison for a dozen years— fraudulent enlistment, drunkenness on duty, striking his ¢uperior officer, and numerous others of a technical sort. He was given a long sentence at the military prison at Fort Leavenworth, and wos a doned by President Hayes He ,went to Corpus ‘hr'sti, Texas upon ze and became a custom house inspector. remained there until his father calléd him back ta New York. The father never for: Be his eldest son, the first lieutenalit, for his treatment of his brother, characterized him as a cad as long as he lived, and, when “he died, teft him aftogether out of his will. A Case im the Navy. . -A- somewhat similar case occurred in the navy in 1883, An ensign attached to one of “ Bicone = the first of the ships of the new navy, then lying at the Mare Island navy yard, stood at the gaagway one day, as officer of the deck, to receive a large number of blue- jacket recruits assigned to his ship from the receiving ship Independence. The last man to come over the side was his elder brother, who had not been seen or heard of by his family for six years. The ensign recognized him immediately, but gave no sign other than a fleeting elevation of the eyebrows. The elder brother in the biue- jacket un:form, a thorough-looking able seaman from the soles of his shoes to the grommet of hi cap, also recognized his brcther with the gilt on his coat and cap, but he took his place in the line to answer to his name—an assumed one--without so nuch as giving the ensign a second glance. A week later the ship left for the China station. The bluejacket brother had put in the six years during which his people had not heard from him at sea in the merchant marine, and he had mate's papers when he shipped in the navy. He was such a splen- did seaman that he was rated cox’un, and then first-class boatswain's mate, before the ship got to China. Brotherly Discrimination. His brother, the ensign, was inwardly so mortified and exasperated over the pres- ence of his brother up forward that he could not bring himself to treat the buais- wain’s mate with ordinary justice when he happened to be officer of the deck. When the ship finally reached the China station, nearly all hands up forward went ashore at Nagasaki, Japan, to “take the air,” as man-of-war's men call taking a liberty whirl. Most of them came back to the ship somewhat the worse for liquor, as was, of course, expected aft. The boatswain’s ma‘e Was the steadiest on his legs of the lot. Yet he was the only man ordered into the brig for drunkenness by his brother the ensign, who was officer of the deck when the liberty party returned to the ship. After he had done his ten days in double irons, he returned to the deck und took up his duties as able seaman. He found that he had been reduced from his rating «s boatswain’s mate. He was a quiet man, however, and so he polished up his bright work and kept his head closed. One night, about a month later, when the ship was lying in the harbor of Kobe, Ja- pan, about a dozen of the men whose .ames were inscribed on the fourth-class conduct list, and who were therefore not permitted to go ashore, resolved to “jump ship” and go ashore to have a good time. They wait- ed until after “pipe-iown” had been soun ed at 9 o'clock. Then they quietly slipped down the forward anchor chains, one by one, into the water, and swam ashore to the docks, about 300 yards distant. They had invited the able seaman brother of the ensign to go along with them, but he de- clined, and turned into his hammock for his night's rest. An Unfortunate Accident. At 2 o'clock in the morning the ship- jumpers, drunk as most of them were, swam quietly back from the docks to the ship, climbed up the forward anchor chains to the topgallant forecastle, and every- thing would have been well with them if there had not been a loud splash on the starboard side of the ship just as the last of them were climbing aboard. The marine sentry at the main gangway heard the splash, and he was on the topgallant fore- castle in a jiffy. The ship jumpers were all huddled together, watching the struggles of a man in the water. The man made for the anchor chains, and climbed up to the topgallant forecastle. The man was the able seaman brother of the ensign. He Was a somnambulist, and, just about the time when the ship jumpers were. begin- ning to silently steal aboard, he had left his hammock while still asleep, waiked up the ladder from the main deck’ to the top- gallant forecastle, leaned too far over the guard-chain and fallen into the water. The cold water of the sea awoke him, and he clambered up the chains in the wake of the last of the ship jumpers. The case against him was clear. The marine sentry heried them all down to the main deck and made his report to the officer of the deck, who again happer.ed to be the ensign brother of the able seaman. “I was not ashore,” said the able seaman to his brother, when it came his turn to say something for himself. “I got out of my hammock in my sleep and fell over- board.” : “Stow your lies for another time,” sa his brother, the ensign officer of the deck. “Sentry, you saw this man climb up the anchor chains?” “Yes, sir,” said the sentry. Half a dozen of the ship jumpers stepped forward. “He was not ashore, sir,” said they. asked him to go, but he wouldn't come aicng. We heard him fall into the water as we clumb up the anchor gear.” “I'll prefer charges against the six of you for lying, too,” said the ensign. “Sen- try, awaken the chief master-at-arms and send him to me.” The chief master-at-arms showed up a minute later. “Confine all of these men in double irous in the brig,” the ensign ordered. Paying Off Old Scores. “Come men,” said the chief master- at-arms, and all of them except the able seaman, unjustly ac , Started forward for the brig, the chie! ster-at-arms be- hind them. The able seaman walked up to his brother, the ensign, without a word and stretehed him at full length upon the quarterdeck with one blow. Then he juin- ed the ship jumpers. The master-a grabbed him, put in double irons, and chen helped the ma- Tine sentry to resusciiate the unconscious ensign. The able seaman who had flattened out his brother and surerior officer was in for a ten-year term at the Boston naval pris- on. and he knew it. He afterward mai tained that he never intended to give away his relationship to the ensign at the gen- eral court-martial held on board the flag- snip to try his case, but that his brother gave him so little show at the trial that he found he couldn't help himself. The ensign made it pretty hard for his brother at the trial on the flagship. In spite of the fact that the entire twelve ™men who had jumped ship on the night the ensign was knocked down by his brother testified that the eble seaman was not with them ashore and that they had heard him fall into the water from the topgallant forecastle, the ensign expressed his con- viction that “the man” had been one of the party of ship jumpers. The eyes of the able seaman gleamed dangerously when bis brother expressed this conviction. “He knew that I walked in my sleep when I was a boy,” he said afterward. Caused a Sensation. Then came tae ensign'’s testimony with regard to the able seaman’s striking him and knocking him down. “Were you crazy, my man, that you did this thing?” asked the president of the court of the able man. “Not particularly replied the seaman, Betting to ais feet. “He needed it. It was not the first time I had cudgeled the whelp about a bit when he needed it.” The sensation in the court was immense. “Eh? What's that?” gasped the presi- dent of the court. “What are you talk- tae yh, I used to often whack the kid around the legs with a shinny stick when ne bothered me,” replied the seaman. “Why, what+wher—' “Something like fifteen years ago, when we were at home,” said the seaman. “‘He’s my brother, you krow.” “We The court sentenced the seaman to a simple dishonorable discharge from the navy. His brother, the ensign, applied im- mediately for a transfer to another ship, and got it without any trouble. | Slept Like a Child GAINED TWENTY-SEVEN POUNDS IN POUR WEEKS. THE STORY A SOLDIER, From the Transcript, Peoria, il. man is better known and Mked In that rich ter of MMnots counties. of which Peotla is the center, thar genial Chester S. Harrington of Princeville, I. For many years Mr. Harrington bas traveled through the country on profitable Journeys as an itinerant merchant, and everywhere be goes he is given a hearty welcome by the peo- ple who depend upon bis regular visits for the porchase of the necessaries, and some of the luxuries of life. Mr. Harrington is a veteran of the war, and out of tis circumstance grew the train of frets that make up the remarkable expertence which be related upon the occasion of a visit to the Trans- cript office recently. His story, telling of the evils of which the Civil War was but “he bopinning in his own, and im thousands of other cases, was as follows: “I served three years in (he 124th Mlnols, en- listing at Kewanee, Il. 1 was in Libby Prison, 1 suffered. Ike many suother Uneit I was a member ALT bh, althomch the collanse Aid not or some time I suffered from come for years. general debility and nervooxnoss, so badly that I could not sleep. I would vit up night after night reading, because T couldn't get to sleep. For tif teen years my sleep was completely broken up. Indigestion, of course, resulted and my misery Increased until it seemed I had nothing to live for. My eyes began to tail, and as my body lost vitality my mind seemad to give way also T could scarcely remember events taxt bappened but a few weeks before. “T was unfitted for business, and had to abandon the read for two years. I was just able to creep arcuné during the greater part of this time, and there were times when I could not get up at all My brother is 2 doctor, but all his efforts to lelp me failed to give me any relief. “My friends suggesied a great many thought would help me, and I tried a edies, without avail. | Fi having aad a great many articles regarding cures that had been effected by Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills for Pale Peo. ple, T decided to try them. ‘That was tn 1896, I bought a box and took the pills accordin instructions. Just fonr days later T had th the te hap. Diest hours I had known for years. ‘That night 1 went to sleep easily and slept soundly as a child. and awoke refreshed. Since then I bave Gung tight to Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills, ond I bav slopt ily and gained health ever since. ‘Three or four weeks after beginning the treatmet, I had taken four boxes of the increased in weight, from 119 pounds pevnds. This greatly surprised my fri thought my case was a hopeless one, vhon is, 1 found 1 had 146 why to nds, T began Work on the road agein, and have continued { Hight along ever since in exellent health “Let me tell y rkable thing that was a side gain to me. T fouad that while I was taking Dr. Williams’ Pink PIs T had been cured of the smokiag habit, which had been formed when I was a boy, six years old, end which had clung to me all these yeurs, ‘The craving for tobacco left and I have never experienced it since. 1 recommended the pills to more than 150 people and I hope, if my experience is made public, it will be of benefit. to some sufferer."” (Signed) CHESTER S. HARRINGTON, STATE OF ILLINOIS, 2 COUNTY OF PEORIA, 5 88: Chester 8. Harrington, being duly sworn, de- poses and says, that the matters contained in the above statement by him signed are true. CHESTER 8. HARRINGTON. Subscribed and sworn to before me, a notary public, this 15th day of July, 1807. LINCOLN M. Cor, (Seal) Notary Public. All the elements necessary to give new life and richness to the blood end restore shattered nerves are contained in a condensed form, in Dr. Wil- ams’ Pink Pills for Pale People. They are aiso a specific for troubles peculiar to females, such 28 suppressions, irregularities and all forms. of Weakness. In men they effect a radical cure in all cases arising from mental Worry, overwork or excesses of whatever nature. Dr. Williams’ Pink Pills are sold in boxes (ever in loose bulk) at Bo cents a box, or six bexes for $2.50, and may be had of all druggists, or direct by mail from Ir. Williams’ Medicine Company, Schenectady WAR OR PEACE WITH SPAIN A Single Day Cowid Change the American People Into Fighters. A. B. de in the Mlustrated American The question is timely. In fact, there is nc more sericus question confronting the pesple of the United States than, Shall we have war with Spain? What are the acts? Nearly three years ago a revolu- tion broke cut in Cuba, and ever since fighting, murdering, butchering, have been going on in that formerly beautiful island. I myself have seen the destroyed planta- tions, the ruincd farms, the burned cities, the sacked villages. Even a year ago it was ruin and death everywhere. Our sym- pathies are with the Cubans, and it is right they shouid be. Now, the question has been and is, shall we Interfere? Cuba is so near us that it lies in our immediate sphere of influence. By this war we have fost millions of dollars; our commercial in- terests are seriously affected. This is the mercenary point of view. On the other hand, we are a good-hearted, generous peo- ple. We are thoroughly disgusted by the butchery which for two years nas been go- ing on ai cur very door. We feel that in the name of civilization and humanity the stop it will be necessary to expose man of ovr ships, our commerce, our shor cur cities, to destruction. It will be neces- sary, perhaps, to sacrifice thousands of our regular and of our citizen soldiers. Thus distincilyrmust we face both the horror and the cost of the war, which the thoughtless and the reckless would precipitate. But if the Spanish government should, after our years of magnificent reticence and patience, and in spite of the profound revulsion of Americans from bloodshed, force a war upon us ft would suddenly become the most poptlar war of our history. As the firing upon Fort Sumter changed the north in one day from the most conservative and patient people upon earth to the most vengeful and warlike, so it would be again upon any foreign aggression. I believe our government is to be trusted to restrain the recklessness of the war agitators and to maintagn the peace the people desire, if peace is possible with honor. And I ‘be- ve as strongly that if that peace with oner becomes at any moment in the com- ing critical weeks impossible, the govern- men: would be supported by ‘the people as ene man, not only in the preservation of its dignity but in the wiping out forever the bloody inhumanities in suffering Cuba. a Dock. — os Equipment of the Ha From Electricity. An electric pumping installation has been fixed in the floating dry dock at Havana. It consists of two generating plants, one in each wall, but with connecting cables, 20 that either can serve the whole dock. Each Plant is complete with boiler, engine and direct-coupled dynamo. The power ts trans- mitted by cables to ten electric motors, five in each wall, having their switches and re- sistance located tn the valve houses. These motors are vertical and drive direct on the shafts of the horizontal centrifugal pumps placed in the bottom of the walls. The pimping machinery is capable of lifting an ironclad of 15,000 tons in weight in two and one-half hours, which means that 15,000 tons of water must pass through the pumps before the process of lifting ig complete. The whole of the electrical machinery was supplied by Scott & Mountain of Newcas- tle, England, and it includes a completo system of electric lighting throughout the dock. “Won't you play something. Mullins?’ asked Kilduff, motioning toward the piano. “I hardly like to while Col. Gore is here.” “Ts he severe in his criticisms?” “Yes; and he carries a pistol.”