The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, September 4, 1898, Page 24

THE FRANCISCO CALL NDAY, SEPTEMBER 4, 1898 1ity, If every! m B . it. The IT AIN'T A SIXPENCE,” SAID THE BOY, “IT'S 'ARF A SOVRIN,” AND THEY ALL ed the STARED IN AMAZEMENT. ) : 5 A said at T no use waltir ' sald Harry 'ard on 'im if 'e come aboard and then 'ad to go an’ get looking o the brig toward another ship’s crew to 'elp 'im celebrate it.” r stairs s either waiting for the Ard on too,” said the cook, honestly. 'e’s a spending of 1t. Who's coming im another five minutes, Harry,” sald seaman persuasively, “it “ud be uncommon &8 8 8 8 8 8 8 & ‘Ha! ‘im! RS effusive lad,” he placed. ed up at a figure waving to them from erately. ‘"E wants the boat,” he said, moving aft. 5, 'e don't, Steve,” piped the boy. *’E's waving you not to. He's coming In the comes in for a bit o' money and begins to W There's threepence gone; clean chucked Just 100! no doubt about that, ’e did this morning.” The crew bent over the side as and the fare who had been leaning b: a severely important air rose slowly an sers’ pocket. 5 “There’s sixpence for you, my lad, “Never mind about the change.” “‘All right, old slack-I Three pairs of han board, and the boy hovering aroun vigorously. 5. Yot are you up to?” demanded Mr. Samu ., turning on L. v “On'y dusting you down, Sam,” said the boy humbly. and ten pence.” said the heir, notiein the effect of his announcement. “'Say it again, Sam,” Mr. Dodds, with a happy all come down the foc'sle. dle of cigars an’ a drop o' somet “Let’s 'ave a look at the money, Three men div: first time to the responsibilities of wealth, watched the remainder of his capital. “There's somethin good humor t “How much is it ¥ do chuck your money about, Sam. dl o S B ors 16 ad ha turn "a een a shilling it "u a’ turned “t ain't a sixpence,” said the boy, indignantly. “It's ‘arf a suvri'n.” “ Arf a wot change of manne! “"Arf a suvri'n study in_conflicting em “T don’t mean that,” e you going to do with it now, to take care ot it? 88888838&8?38?39818882888283888832888883838382838838828889:28283‘825382888382888988898953939 THE MONEY CHANGERS. Story of a Sailor's Legacy. ‘Waterman's SKift.”” Same old tale,” said the seaman, wisely. at ’im!” e got the money all right,” said the cdok, eches, guoa-fellowshltl), up vou get. s a him. laugh, obliged him. e continued, “I've got = sald, restore d over a small coin and régarded with tolerant P Oi;'eeextrnmgam manifestation of joy on the part of the youth which followed. He cagcred Joyously for 2 minute or two, and then taking it t steps, where the light was better, bit it ecstatically. 2" inquired the wondering Steve, “you the ‘foot d Sam, laughing. *“I L - his brain. " exclailmed Mr. Dodds with a routhful philosopher. odds' face under these fulsome praises tions. ‘“Well, don’t waste length, and ha ain’t made up my mind yet,” said Mr. Dodds, delib- “I 'ave thought of 'ouse property. said the other. vaste it directly. away. Look at Why ‘e looks 'arf as large again as skiff approached, tdhcek in the stern with d feit in his trou- " he said, pompously. said the waterman with offended fare on prsLen tgemm slapped his legs el Dodds, A. g with much pleasure said Pilohard, in awed tones. “If you'll hing short in my pocket.” Sam,” said Pllchard, ed to recover it, while Sam, alive for the anxiously for you to buy sweets with, my to good humor as the note was re- expect if it * repeated the boy with nervous rapid- -and thank you very much, Sam, for your generosity. body was like vou we should all be the better for world 'ud be a different place to live in,"” conclud- tily gathering up the remainder, towed it away in the bag. : SO el abe You going to do with it all, Sam?” inquired 1 mean wot are I e R baby?” oty “You give i said 2 4 8 8 i b “Told 'er to £ 8 versation. “Whay, ke=p it in my pocket,” said Sam, staring. MriBodds, “Chap “Well, if I was you,” sald Harry, impressively, “I hi$ burning toc should ask the skipper to take care of it for me. You & : “Wot d'yer mean?’ demanded there’s “I mean,” said Harry, hastily, “I know what I'm about,” said tion. me. likes to come to 'ave something come.” ears, arose from his shipmates as hauled the boat ajongside. a seat down for Mr. Dodds. shandy-gaff.” ¥ menviie the forecastle. arding him intently. a bun- Harry. wakes up to tell 'im he's o' telling 'im 's got It in his pockets? ““Well, let's take it out,” sald Pl der my piller, and let "im think he’ “I won’t 'ave nothing to do wi emptorily. *“I don’t belleve in sich when ‘e ‘Wt “I don’t ee no 'arm in it,” fright might do 'im good, p’raps. o B “It might be the saving of 'im,’ the morning as 'e won't forget in a 'u He retired to his bunk and, pillow, was soon fast asleep. T sudden surrendered itself to sleep. Dodds. Dodds’ head cleared his ideas cl strong, forcible language straight from the heart he con- the eyes and limbs of some person or persons un- was a it.”” he signe; known to every varlety of tormen heartbreaking_sympathy. “Shut up, Sam,” sai can't you g9 to slcep? know wot you are when you're a bit on, Sam generous nature that when you've 'ad a you're just as likely as not to give it away to s “I'm not goin’ to get on while I've got this about I'm just goin’ 'round to the ‘Bull's shan't drink anything to speak of myself. A flattering murmur, which was music to Mr. Dodds’ The boy pulling out his pocket handkerchief, ostentatiously wiped “Understand,” said that gentleman, with whom the af- fair of the half-sovereign still rankled, “your drink “What 'ud ba’ become of 'im if we hadn’t been with 'im? Where would 'is money ha* been?” “He'll lose it as sure as eggs is heggs,” sald Steve, re- “Bear a hand to lift 'Im in his bunk, Harry complied, their task being rendered somewhat difficult by a slight return of consciousness in Mr. Dodds’ lower limbs, which, spreading themselves out fanwise, de- “'Wot do you think, cook?” inquired Harry. saild the cook slowly, “the over the sleeping seaman, and gently inserting his fingers in his breast pocket, drew out the canvas bag, ‘‘Thereitis chaps,” he said gayly. “an’ I'll give 'im sich a fright in the example, and Stev: extinguishing the lamp, the forecastle At 5 o’clock they were awakened by the voice of Mr. It was a broken, disconnected sort of voice at first, like to that of a man talking in his sleep, but as Mr. broken with emotion, he addressed himself in terms of Harry, In a sleepy voice. )’ sald Mr. Dodds teartully, “I've lorst u're d?'véam(n'," said Harry, lightly; “pinch your- Mr. Dodds, hotly. “that you've got sich a glass or two bun with.” There was a Mr. Dodds, with conv Head,” but I Anybody that at my expense Is wel- they went on deck and s first in her, and, How'd Jou i Gimmie my “You might exclamation, bedding. “Look 'ere,” when the cigars were alight. f S b lets have a look At it,” sald Steve. fied all attempts to pack them in the bunk. ke Mr. Dodds laughed again, and, producing a small can- ‘“Let 'em hang out then,” said Harry, savagely, wiping 3 vas bag from his pocket, dusted the table with his big a little mud from his face. *‘Fancy that coming in for a palm and spread out a roll of bank notes and a little pile fortin.” of gold and silver. It was an impressive sight, and the “'E won't 'ave it long,” said the cook, shaking his head. SEainte wot cook breathed so hard that one note fluttered off the table. “Wot 'e wants is a shock,” sald Harry. “’Ow’d it be lost all ’is money? " demanded the cook, tndee oy 1 ilchard. “T'll hide it un- s ’ad his pocket picked.” ith it, aid Steve, per- gamés, wot don’t want saw somebody ' sald Harry. He leaned oW > rry.” leared with it, and in “Well, I t, after which, in a voice with_clenched “Why a fool’ Dodds in a dazed voice do it for? Wot was a for?"" 5 let“r\r{'ee (2\(1)(1’;;1{ you not to,” said Steve, jolning in the con- “Wot was you length of the boy. 3 give me <hat 'arf suvrin back, d've hear “I can’t,” sald_the boy. glve it to the red-’aired woman to buy the and their grinning oc Mr. Dodds’ color came ba ook it out of your pock sald Harry scvere agin, Sam. searched Mr. Dodds, him take every article separately out of his bun then sink down appalled on the lockeT. “You've took it, “when you've done your little game."” said Harry in a scared voice, *“somebody’s “Look ‘ere, 'Arry, glve 'im his money,” “Well, if you will have it,’ said Steve, with a little cough, “the old man said to me, ‘Well done, St(‘\'f‘.'xn ses; ‘you're the only sensible man of the whole biling lot. Sam' 'e ses, ‘and 'Arry's worse, an’ 3 for inen like you, Steve, life wouldn't be worth living.’ . Dodds, who had a little breath left and a few words stlplm::om%amnvely fresh, bestowed them upon hi “I tell you you you refnen}zberygl\'ing it to that re im. haven’t lorst it,” sald arTy. Don't d-haired woman with o4 the astounded Mr. Dodds. t to ’er and told 'er to buy the baby a bun with it’" continued the veracious Mr. Pilchard. the baby a bun with it,” repeated Mr. . “told ‘er to— Wot did you let me Il you chaps standin’ by an’ doin’ to buy finding language utterly useless to express his burning thoughts, sat down and madly smashed at ths fists. n’ to let me do 1t?"" he demanded ou ungratetul little toad. You can “I followed your example and baby another buzzing no! Dodds’ hl"nd‘ and the nd round. ) up, id Pilchard, shaking him i “It's all right; don't be a fool. I've got the stared at him blankly. I've got the money,” repeated the seaman. get it?” he in last night just to give you “Don’t you never bé so money,” said Mr. Dodds, gfaring at him. ha’ lorst it, you see, Sam,” continued hls s s'pose, Sammy,” said . * - . - * * - Srrs « 3 ta any v i s money lIrEHL L A U Ticy hrurmad 1o the brig atill o'slock, Mr Doddsisium- - Legstiolon HICKicouic take it anpEoOy clse cdnld. - 1.et Mr. Dodds nodded and slapved breast pocket. bering peacefully in the stern of the boat, propped up on “If you den't gimme my money—" began Sam, vio- “Right as ninepence,” he replied genially. “I've been either side by Stgve and the boy. His sieep was 80 Pro- jonejy : g Y . with my lawyer all the arternoon, pretty near. 'E's a nice found that he declined to be aroused and was hoisted over “It’s no use tryin’ to do ’im a kindness,” said Harry to teller.” the side with infinite difficulty and no little risk by his the others. as he turned to his bunk. “He can go an’ lose “Ow much is it, Sam?” inquired Pilchard, eagerly. shipmates. | s - : 4 “One "undred and seventy-three pun seventeen shiilings Look at "im,” said Harry, as they lowered him down s Sut his hand in his bunk, and.then, with & sudden the = d somewhat hastily among watching him with a scowl am—ain't—you?"’ he gasped. sdald Mr. Dodds with ominous quietness, said Steve, im- patiently. “A joke's a joke, but we don't stand too much it,”” said Harry, trembling. “Sure as I stand ‘ere it's gone. I took it out of your pocket and put it under my piller. told you not to,” a warning to you not to try and teach lessons to people You saw me, didn't you, Steve?" said Steve. ‘Let this be ] “I'm going to the police station to give ‘Im in charge,” sald Mr. Dodds, flercely. “That's wot I'm goin’ to do.” “For the Lord's sake don’'t do that, Sam,” said Pil- chard, clutching him by the coat. “'Arry ain't made away with it, Sam,” said Steve. “I take it out of his bunk while he was Why didr’t you stop him?" cried Harry, starting up. dldn’t_like to_interfere,” saw_where he went to.” Where?” demanded Mr. Dodds, wildly. said Steve, simply, “but ¥ ere?"” E]acmg the bag under his He went straight up on deck,” said Stev: slowly, e other men followed his “walked aft, and then down into the cabin. The skipper woke up, and I heard 'im say something to him. “Say something to 'im?"" repeated the bewild Dodds. “Wot was it?” 7 el “Well, T *ardly like to repeat it,” said Stev “Wot was 1t? roared the overwrought Mr. fom““"g' *eard this chap say someth slowly, “and then T heard the skipper's v. like to repeat wot ‘e said. “Wot was {t?” roared Mr. Dodds, approaching him said Steve, But I don't e. I reely don't. fists. he if it wasn' t W. W. JACOBS. Copyrighted, 1898. California’s Cream of Tartar lause in reciprocity treaty with | from the offal of the wineries whereby it is provided | Scum Wwhich, rising upon the surface of braan bl the wine by the fermenting of the fluid, Dingley bill of one and one ST IO e Sldey oL the cankn. i ley ne an 1f | exceedingly rich in the acid, containing upon crude bi- testing above forty | that chemical. the recently ar-|ard in California it is rescued solely | sometimes as high as forty per cent of All thi; hduétru Threatened. When the stuff is brought to the tar- tar factory it is first put under a hy- draulic press and all the juice squeezed out of it. That which thus comes away from the mass is wine. It is not a very high quality of wine, to be sure, but clarified and worked over it makes a beverage which the patrons of the cheap restaurants sip and smack their All that uff, together and of one cent per pound | with the lees of the v in short, all | n all testing below fo per cent, | sediments and accumuiations about the g. k-l”nnd ghe”x.nmrerflolas; g;d\\;tl 111 be reduced to five per ad val. | Wine tuns and presses, as well as all hh’flft‘; 39‘{{,’; t’ ,:‘x“it i aton the | ¢ i el pomace and hulls of thegrapes, residue |bilarating. = L = orem, thres if it is put into execu- | gri R M g out of the wine—ig | Market as wine is distilled into brandy, tion, to ¢ impair if not extin- | pought from the winemakers, to whom | @nd no inconsiderable portion of Cali- guish an industry in this State which s annually paid about $66,000 for this | OrDia's output of this product 18 fur- has developed Into prosperity through | substance, which, before the Introduc- |2ghed by this seepage TOR IhE b the influence and operation of the traiff. | tion of the tartar factortes, was allowed | , T2 (&Ti& e anuead Jutin fthe The business of producing cream o | 10 89 t0 waste. o . |sun to dry and perhaps to take on an foeis i taricain he | Lt Drings about $1 per ton. accord- | ,qgjtional character by thorough oxi- artar 1 tartaric ac exists in the | ing to the character of the refuse, and dization. When thus exhausted of its United States only in California. In|the cost of hauling to the tartar fac- | maisture the substance is put into great New York there are one or two refiner- fes for the working up of the crude product w is imported the cing countries of Europe and formerly also from California; but since the adoption of the tariff the salt has come to be made in California directly from the raw material. The industry is in many respects a curious one, existing as it does upon the waste product of another industry. Tar- taric acid is resident in many vegeta- ich from wine-produ tory is paid by the latter. five several factories which constitute the industry are located in a wine cen- ter of the State, and during the wine- making season the scene of the activi- ties presented in teaming between the factory and the several presses is a very stimulating one. One firm engaged in the business, which, however, owns | several of the factories, employs in the | height of the season an average of one | are | | hundred teamsters. The factories | severally at San Jose, Healdsburg, Fresno, St. Helena and Napa, and the sum invested in each is about twenty- Each of the | vats, where It Is stirred with hot water. White clay and bone duced and the boiling process continued | until the coloring matter in the liquid | precipitates and there is left a clear fluid, which upon cocled will generate crystals, semi- | transparent, rhomboldal in their prisms, | | which gather partially in the bottom and partially on the surface like cream, from which manner of forming the product takes its name. These crystals when ground into a powder form the cream of tartar of commerce. | | is about half a milllon_ of black is intro- | being filtered and | bles, chief among which is the grape, * fivé thousand dollars. i There pounds of cream of tartar produced in California annually, and it seils for about 20 cents per pound, so that the industry is worth to the State about $100,000 per year. here is consumed on this coast, and though some attempts have been made to enter the Eastern markets by ship- ping thither the refined product, yet this, because of the high freight rates, | being about 1 cent per pound, has been found to be unprofitable. It was the purpose of several engaged in the in- dustry, however, to again make the at- tempt to invade the Eastern markets if the tariff was maintained, but its elimi- nation will put an end to such anticipa- tions. The material is used in materia medica, principally for the compound- ing of seidlitz powders, in which it is employed in connection with the bi- carbonate of soda. But the chief use which it serves is in the manufacture of baking powders, and this requires erhaps twenty of the twenty-five mil- fon pounds annually bought in the United States. Another product of the tartar factory is tartaric acid, widely used in the manufacture of acid drinks, which one so often buys under the impression that he is purchasing a product of lemons. It is extensively employed also as a drug and makes many combina- tions such as the tartrate of potash, tartrate of antimony, tartar emetic and such. In securing this the tartrate of lime, secured by the precipitation of the clay which is added to the boiling fluid, is treated with sulphuric acid; this causes the lime to separate, and the fluid which remains will, when cooled, deposit the crystals of tartaric acid. O I know Jack Dalton? well indeed!” So spoke Charles Probasco of Pendleton, Or., last evening at the Baldwin in the course of a talk about Alaska. He continued: “The Dalton trail in Alaska, named in honor of Jack, who traveled that pathway to the Yukon gold flelds and eventually made it a popular route, will keep alive his name long after he has crossed the divide into the un- known. Dalton is a man with a his- tory and much of it has been published. But let me tell you a chapter in his career which has not yet found its way into print. “Dalton owes his fame and fortune to a Deputy Sheriff of Umatilla County, | up in Oregon. But before I relate this | episode in his career that sent him to | Alaska I'll give you some incidents that | led up to it. Dalton’s right name is | Miller. While he was in Eastern Ore- | gon he was for a time employed .by | Hank Vaughan, an all-round sport and sometimes a ‘holy terror,’ and later he was in the employ of John Devine, the cattle king of Harney County. “In December, 1884, T was in the little town of Burns, county seat of Harney County, and headquarters for the cow, boys. “T was an eye-witness to the tragedy Very in which Jack Miller, now known as Dalton, shot and killed Matt Egan. It was on Christmas night. At that time Burns boasted of quite a number of noted gunfighters. Among them were Tom and Bill Viccors, These brother desperadoes and Matt Egan had been | celebrating Christmas eve and when fully cocked and primed for a fight they began hunting for one. They soon found it. “Coming out of Robinson’s saloon the drunken trio staggered up against an old man, and without the slightest ! provocation Bill Viccors struck him, |landing him on his back in the street. Just at that time Jack Miller happened along and witnessed the brutal and un- called-for act. He ran to the old man's assistance and helped him to his feet, leading him back to the sidewalk. Mil- ler, with a laugh, which is character- istic of him when fully aroused to an- ger, said in an assuring tone, ‘Old man, no one shall touch you while T am here.’ “Miller drew his revolver and clench- ing it tightly by the butt with his left hand, turned to Bill Viccors and coolly said to him, ‘That was a damned cow- ardly trick.’ ““Viccors did not reply, and as he did not show any fight Miller turned and walked away. “‘Bill, I'll fix that d——d pup before he leaves this town,” said Egan to Viccors. “The threat was overheard by a man .‘My ideal man is temperate in all his habits and particularly discreet in the use of intoxicants; ambitious and persevering, and, last but not least, a delightful entertainer.” MRS. LULU R. WEBB. MAN to come up to my ideal should be possessed of sufficient magnetic force to attract and hold my con- fidence in his ability and honor. He must be discreet and not give his opinion of matters in such a way as to embarrass or cause the slightest unpleasantness to those about him. He must be charitable in thought and action and capable of sympathizing with his fellow man, and yet courageous to a degree that will enable him to meet every emergency without fear and with a perfect faith in his ability to overcome. He must be honest, taking for his motto the old saying, “my word is my bond,” and carry this into his every-day life so forcefully that his integrity would never be ques- tioned. I would want him cautious, yet not suspicious and doubting. He must not assume virtues he does not possess, neither should he look upon every wr .an as a possible con- quest—such men, in my opinion, are most detestable and far from my ideal. Yet a little concelt is admirable—just enough to bring his good qualities to the surface, no further. He should be well informed on the topics of the day and fully able to grasp their importance as they relate to affairs either political or of every-day life. He should be neat in dress and even though not wearing the most fashionable clothes there should be a general air of genutity and tidi- ness about him. I would have him lideral in his opinions and generous in his criticisms of the faults of others. He should be of good physique, an athlete to the extent of the careful development of muscle and limbs, and strong yet gentle in his manner toward the opposite sex. My ideal man would be temperate in all his habits, and particularly discreet in the use of intoxicants. He should be ambitious and persevering in business and last, but not least, a delightful entertainer. Such a ran as I have de- seribed may be hard to find, but in my opinién he would be the average woman's ideal hero. MRS. LULU R. WEBB, “He must be strong-featured and noble-minded ' BY FOUR PROMINENT WOMAN ARTISTS. ‘My ideal quality in man, first, last and all the time, is strength, The body of the atblete, the cour- age of the soidier, the strong soul of the martyr, the brain of the sage and the heart of a child.” * NELLIE FONTAINE BINCKLEY. s e e HAT is my idea of the ideal man. I suppose that means a perfect man. Dear me, is there such a thing? Physically there are perfect men, without doubt, and there are other men perfect mentally and morally, but a man perfect in all points—well, there may be such, but I doubt it. And if there is one what an insufferable prig he must be! Such a paragon could not fail to be keenly aware of his perfections. I hope I may never meet him. How uninteresting and sour tedious perfection is, after all. “Faultily faultless, icily regular, splendidly well—dead perfection, no more.” I freely admit that perfection does not appeal to me very strongly. The glory and wonder of the Greek archi- tecture awaken my awe and admiration, but I should not enjoy living in the beautiful rectangularity of a Grecian villa half as much as in one of those quaint Gothic houses, full of unexpected nooks and corners and fascinating oddi- ties and irregularities. It is more human and lovable. And doubtless the ideal man, should I meet him in the flesh, would not interest me half as much as some nice fellow with a few slight imperfections to add flavor to him. ‘What do I consider the most desirable qualities in a man? As to beauty, that is of no importance. Given a good figure, brains and heart, it matters little what sort of face a man has. NELLIE FONTAINE BINCKLEY. ““My ideal must be a man of honor in every particu lar; Kind-hearted, generous, decided and firm, but not to overbearing; temperate, and- his re- 0 with such a regal physique that one might say were he not a man he might have been a lion.” MISS MINNIE JORDAN. UR ideals are formed, I think, from the best that we | know of the real—mental composites of such features | and qualities that we find most worthy in our ac- quaintance. Those who live among the noblest men and women have higher standards than others who | Ilglous precepts must at least include the rule; o unto others as you would b SUS AN HE ideal man, is there one? have our ideals, actualities that’s girl in her teens, her ideal, a sort another matter, an every-day homely sort of a fellow. ‘What girl in forming her ideal does great personal beauty, only to find later in life that her ideal, in the flesh, is not so handsome after all. that one attribute after another of the girl's ideal either fades away completely or becomes greatly modified as she No doubt many women of visionary ideal whom they would like practical woman has long since laid her ideal aside. becomes wiser. My ideal must be a man of honor kind hearted to the degree that he is mindfut of the com- fort of those about him; generous, decided and firm, but not to the extent of overbearing; he must be temperate In habits, but not necessarily a total abstainer from liquors or tobacco. His religious precepts must at least include the rule “do unto others as you would be done by.” In the drawing submitted in this co: mit that the face is that of my father, whose features I consider about as near my ideal as I expect to find in the MRS. SUSAN BROUFE LOOSLEY. flesh, I suppose that we all but to bring these myths down to perhaps younger, I don’t know, has of a hero, but as she grows older and becomes better informed these ideas—well if they don't vanish altogether they materially hange. As the young bud becomes more familiar with the frafl- ties of mankind ideals gradually but none the less surely fade away and of the original myth nothing remains but e done by.""" walk in lower sphe: SROUFE LOOSLEY. * 1 think that every ETHICS O] not endow him with Thus it is till retain a sort 0 meet, but the in every particular; nnection*I must ad- res. With some the ideal attains phy- sical perfection, others only admire mental capacities and some few find the highest beauty in moral virtues. To my mind the ideal man may be positively ugly, as facial beauty is concerned, but I insist upon three things | large interests in different —he must be strong-featured and noble-minded, with such | business enterprises, ircluding some big a regal physique that one might say were he not a man he might have been a lion. MISS MINNIE JORDAN. F THE BURGLARY BUSINESS. Judge (to the prisoner’s wife)—So you took part al burglary at the young ladies’ seminary? 2 ae Wite—Of course! Would your wife allow you to break into | Sauadron will pass over him without & young ladies’ seminary alone. S0 far | inent, wealthy and influential. 10dd Events That Sent Jack Dafton to Alaska and Fortune That which is made | who Informed Miller and at the same time warned him to be on his guard. Although Egan was known to be a dz2a- perate and determined ruffian, and meant fight when he said so, Miller made no effort to avoid him. “The nextevening—Christmas night— Miller started to leave town on his horse to go out to Pete Clement’s place, where he was staying. Egan, who had been bracing up on liquor all day and had been ‘laying for’ Miller with the intention of ‘doing him up,” stepped up in front of him, and, drawing his re- volver, said, ‘This thing has got to be settled now, and you or I must die right here.’ “Quick as a flash of lightning Miller slid off his horse, and, with hxsgweapon in his right hand, rushed forward and with the left hand grabbed Egan by the right wrist, raising it as high as he could push it. Egan pulled the trigger of his revolver, but the bullet passed over Miller's heada “Miller retained his hold of Egan's wrist, and while in_this position shot him three times. Egan fell to the ground a dead man. With his revolver still pointed at the prostrate form of the desperado, Miller stood and eyed him for fully half a minute, and, be- ing convinced that Matt Egan had made his last gun play. said, ‘I guess you will lay quiet now.’ “Then he placed his smoking re- volver in his belt and coolly walked away, and a few minutes later surren- dered himself to the authorities. “I never saw a man less excited un- der such circumstances than Miller was. His exhibition of nerve was simply marvelous. Bill Viccors, in whose cause Egan had given up his life, was afterward killed in a desper- ate fight with a Sheriff’s posse. “Miller of course was cleared on the ground of self-defense. After his trial he went to Umatilla County, making his headquarters at Pendleton. A year later he returned to Burns with a finely matched team of horses, which he claimed he had bought. But cne day in February, 1886, Al Vogel, a Deputy Sheriff from Umatilla County, arrived in Burns with anofficial document inti- mating under oath that those sorrels belonged to Rube Wilson of Pendleton, and that they had been stolen. Miller was pointed out to Deputy Sheriff Vo- gel. He was unloading a wagon in front of a store. The officer aware of the determined nature of the man hesi- tated for some time about interviewing him as to the horse question. Mean- time Miller was informed of the ob- Ject of the officer’s visit, and not car- inr to make any explanation at that time, jumped into a wagon and drove rapidly away. Stopping at a house where his wife was staying he hastily armed himself with a Winchester rifle, a revolver and ammunition. Vogel, with a posse, was soon in hot pursuit, and was gradually gaining on the fu- gitive. Finally Miller, seeing that he would soon be overtaken, suddenly d.rted into the sage brush, and sought refuge in a dry slough which for a time protected him from the fire of his pur- surers. Several shots were exchanged. “At last Miller, convinced that he must either surrender or make a bold stand and fight it out, suddenly turned on the posse and opened fire on them. Facing the businessendof Jack Miller's repeating rifle was something that they couldn’t stand very long, and they soon | gave up the fight and fell back. Miller escaped to the house of a friend, where he secured a horse, and getting safely out of the country skipped for Alaska soon after. “Jack Miller after reaching Alaska became metamorphosed into Jack Dal- ton, and under the latter name he has | became famous. Mr. Jack Dalton pros- pered in Alaska. He has become prom- He has extensive mining ventures. He now comes and goes through Oregon a much respected man, and no longer has any fear of Deputy Sheriffs. That old horse deal. has either been forgotten or else it has been squared. Quite likely the latter. “Dalton is about 41 years of age. He is well built from the ground up, is of the ayerage height, is broad shoulder- ed and weighs about 160 pounds. His clear, steel-gray eyes and clean cut features indicate frankness, as well as bravery and determination, while his general makeup and appearance stamp him as 'a man of remarkable activity and endurance. He is undoubtedly a food man to have as a friend, and if he is your enemy it is well to let him alone. He is a man of few words.” —_————————— Every soldier knows that a horse will not step on a man intentionally. It is a standing order n the cavalry that if a trooper becomes dismounted he must’ lie still. If he does this the whole doing him injury.