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copyright rero ty-
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DEDICATE
TO TUB IACRZD
3f EXORT OP XT
If OTHER
AND
TO JtT DAUGHTER
OLORIA.
PREFACE.
THI3 book deal, with just an ordi
nary bor. brought up. howvr.
ULOof peopl and condition that
war sot ordinary. Thla llttla town
of Silverton and tha neighborhood
around It vert mad up of men an,
womea who had left the but aoctlona
of In Eastern States to go West, that
they might avoid th rallroada and con
' dlllona that followed them. Strang
mm It may seem, on of th early set
tler of SUverton bad moved from Con
necticut to Illlnola to get away from
th railroad, and later from Illinois to
OLD JOUX I SED .TO RsTIXBX FROM SALEM ALONE.
Oregon, and finally died In SUverton
without ver having seen a railroad
train. Such a statement might mis
lead some people Inta thinking that th
nan waa a crank, but that was not th
case. On th contrary, h waa a man
of distinctive type, ot much nobility
of parpooa. that had Just happened In
hla early youth to Imagine that h
would not 11k railroading. And th
peopl that followed hla example wer
people of good blood and In aora In
stances of high ducation. and all la
all they mad up a fin averag com
munity, ilor than likely many email
towns In New England 200 years ago
war Ilk Ellvertoa waa 10 years
ago. but a town like SUverton
waa then would b bard to lo
cal nowadays, and th SUverton of
today la In few respect Ilk th fin
old dignified town of even list. They
wer th pioneers and the first genera
tion. Today It'a different. Tb eld
Sllvarton waa given a certain dignity
by a vary large and remarkably abapad
old oak tree that stood la th center of
th main atreet; how old It waa no on
knew, but It had been th shad for
th UolaJLa and Saatlam Indians, for
unknown generations, and waa more
than likely In the direct route of toes
Indiana who went to and fro from tba
council of the great Multnomah tribe
on th Columbia River prior to tb
falling of "th brtdg of th Coda"
The old oak. as everybody called It.
waa a stately giant, and the early set
tlers of Silverton looked a fitting peo
ple to group themselves under It and
around It. and. aa I hav aald. It waa
th auperb character of both men and
woman that mad bllverton. th old
town, ao distinctly different.
Th tree and town war nearly all
destroyed one by ftr. A merchant
aamed Ales Rosa let a lighted candle
brush against hla beard, and from his
whiskers the bias leaped madly Into
the lace curtaioa of hla store window,
and on of th handsomest city blocks
waa soon burnt to the ground. The
towa then got a hook and ladder com
pany, and a fire brigade was organ
ised, with a tower and a fire bell on
top of It- Tears passed and passed,
and the firemen grew older and lesa
attentive at lb annual fir drill. Th
fir department conalsted of a hose,
nook and ladder wagon, with some fine
aiu with gliding on the blades, some
iong leather buckets, a long hose, and
acme fir helmets, bom 10 years after
th first fir another broke out. In th
old brick store; possibly from a cigar
stub, aa a man waa seen smoking on
that day In th store. At any rata, th
old store was first to burn. Th de
partment was bard to arouse, aa the
fire started it I A.' SL or thereabouts.
Dr. Davis was awakened by the glare
" of light. He thought he had overslept
and that It was sunup. Fully awake.
' he ran to ring the fire belt but little
by little the farmers had cut off the
rope to tie their teams, till It waa out
of the doctor's reach. He threw rock a
at the bell, but waa nervous and ex
cited and only hit It once, ao resorted
to yelling "Fir!" on th principal
atreeta until hla vole gar out. bll
verton was noted aa a place to get
;ep snd rest In. and tb doctor was
winded and hoars before, h awok
' many of th old settlers. They found
th bos gone, someone bad borrowed
It to Irrigate his garden; the leather
buckets were all gone. We had bad
one In our parlor for years with moss
and "everlasting flowers" In It as an
ornament, and tb only thing they
found to fight th flames with wer
three of th company fir helmets,
and these came la bandy to keep off
the heat, aa a whole row of wooden
buildings were on fire, to say nothing
of 4. cedar ahtnglee. and It was near
ly noon before the tire burned Itself out
wiaa U cam to i-a ais. setUeoieat.
But th backbone of th town waa
there yet and th pioneers wera not
all con. They would go on deter
mined not to be stopped by a fire. In
.-1 htnffi iiUom irot awav with
I much there, and I can cite on Instance
that was truly SUverton In every
sens. A "Campbelllte" minister by
th nam of Clark Uraclen oam there
to conduct a revival meeting. He was
a man of quit some force and reputa
tion, and a big quiet audience greeted
him at his first hearing. He got on
all right nntll near th clos when he
Issued a sweeping challenge to any In
fidels or free thinkers to debate with
him In SUverton. His utterances had
hardly cleared hla beard when 10 men
at least were on their feet asking him
If he would debate with Kobert Q. In
gersolL Th preacher aald "yea. with
him or any of his disciples." Ths
meeting broke up with much excite
ment and promise, and within a few
hours quit a long telegram, th long
est aver sent out of SUverton, was on
Ita way East to Colonel Ingersoll. and
before long a brief on returned say
ing that Mr. B. F. Underwood was on
a train for SUverton as a representa-
tlv of Colonel Ingersoll to debate for
10 days with Rev. Clark Braden. They
wer to apeak every evening, each man
having one hour's time. That waa
typical of the early founders of 811-
, r-f nn V i ai1mt,,lnn rh&rrtd. tnd
i .. mi with much '
dignity until th last v.nlng'a de-i
bate, when eomebodr alerted some-
thing, and when It waa over aeveral
of the best families In town were on
terms unbecoming to neighbors; but
even this only lasted a few months and
all th differences of a stormy ntght
bad paased. Th manhood and woman
hood that bad brought them together
during the hardships and trials of a
pioneer life. In the covered-wagon
days, had brought about a brother
hood that was after all too strong a
bond to be broken by even religious
whims and differences, and they wer
aoon back together as on big family.
All men and women who In their high
er spiritual selves were even more re
ligious la the truer form than the min
ister that had started the trouble, they
were genuinely under the atmosphere
and living In it that the old blind Arab
poet described In bis verse written
during the eleventh century and say
ing, "when young, my friends I would
defame. If our religious faitha were
not the same, but -now my soul has
traveled high and low. now all save
love to me la but a name." I only cite
this Incident aa It waa ao typical of the
pls.ee and went to show that the older
pioneers of SUverton could start oa
short notice without oven a rehearsal.
But. oh. bow I loved, and still iov SU
verton. I could never expect to find another
such community. Where els could
one find a firm Ilk Coolldge Mc
Clalne, starting In partnership without
a bookkeeper. They never even kept
a pencil account of things. When Jake
McClalne eaw his partner with a new
pair of pants on, whether he, McClalne,
needed any or not, he took from the
store a pair just to balance the books,
and that was thslr method. They
played fair with each other, starting
with some calve they bought In the
Fall of the year, and from that deal
thla firm grew and grew until now.
inMrnrfttd into a stock company. It
. ... -r ihi hirit on ih pari fin
Coast; and whsa "call money" rents for , leases m a day from It hold. A day
big premiums In New York City, never pastes that I don't hurry over Its
money that started In Silverton with street and see It lsst remaining plo
thes pioneer bankers comes In large near and In my vision replace thoa that
quantities to Wall street to reap th hav gone. I yet hear the roar of Silver
benefit of the quick loan system. But Creek as It pours like a sheet rf silver
the SUvertonltea of old, Coolldges. Mc- i over the mill dam below the "old red
riatnea. Davis. Browns, De- Gulrea, ,
McUulres. Smiths. Tuggles'. Blacker-
frJ?T l:f? ";-
r.
aCS.M
nOHER
D.lVEPnnTI
I FITllUb
CRAXD-
ft
J
Riches. TVolfards,
Ramsbya. Huttons.
Thurmans and Slmerals . are getting
thinned out. and In their places new
faces from the Middle West and South
are coming The first generation were
not the stuff of their parents: condl
tlona bad changed; aome of the young
er men wer bigger business men than
their fathers, yet they lacked a lot of
a certain kind of character thaA mad
their fathera mor Interesting than
any of their sons. The railroad and
Interurban trolleya change the con
ditions of things greatly, and SUverton
has been no exception to this rule. The
departure anl arrival of the old Salem
stage used to be an event, more than
the trains coming and going today, but
to m SUverton will always remain th
same with no other momory second. I
remember well my first Impression of
SUverton. I had com to town with
my father and Grandmother Daven
port. It must hav been when I was
between 4 and 6 years old. W were
stopping at the Coolldges'; father had
gone on beyond SUverton to aurvey for
Scott Hobart. and In the evening of a
great day. as grandmother and "Aunt
Frank" Coolldge aut rocking and visit
ing on th back porch. I got their per
m lea kin to go on to the eldewalk eoma
distance from their big house. I re
member I waa all dressed up with new
llttl boots that had copper toes. I fol
lowed the sidewalk to the old covered
bridge and finally ventured through It.
and there saw a great city for once with
out arandmotner holding me. I waa In
a trance of delight watching It. when a
big handsome man, named Mar a nail una
ley. cam up to me and In a base voice,
aald: "Are you so snd so." I said,
"yes." "What then are you doing In
Pllverton alone? You get back .to Aunt
Frank Coolldge'e as hard aa yen can
run. ' 1 Ola ana louna 10 mr norrvr i.uk
I had bumped a copper toe off one of my
new boots somewhere enroute.
From Rial moment SUverton has al
ways been to me the greatest city In the
world. I saw In It that evening a aig-
nlty, possibly radiating from the giant
oak tree, that no other place ever could
have. Its people were ao kind, Jts stores
filled with such good things, snd the
scenery back of It ao beautiful. And the
roar of the water falling over th
Mill
Dam. gave It a thrill never to be forgot.
wn oy me. rwr j
It held me In
that trance. It Inspired me to draw pic
tures, and day after day, month after
month. I used to draw Its people on the
smooth surface of the pine boxes that
broucht dry goods to the town, and.
1 strangely, many of them I mounted on
fiery Arabian steeds, and the strangest
Dart of Silverton Is tbst It never re
shoo": then sgaln I s-e It each duy
the years go by as I first remember see-Ina-
It In the evening I lost the copper
toe from the new boot. I hsve thought
of It while sested In the ruins of the
Coloseum st Roms. thought of it while
resting In the death-like silence of the
shadow of the Sphinx, and told of It near
the Euphrates River In Arabia, while
among the wild tribes of Anezeb, Even
left lt paper. The SUverton Appeal,
among that tribe.
I have told people of this little town a
beauties till they have yawned and final
ly left In disgust, yet It holds me with
a something that I cannot describe.
Strangely I find that I have forgotten
all the many rainy days, the boyhood
fights and the neighbor quarrels. They
with the petty pains and pangs of life
hsve been forrotten. and while I know
that some of my expressions of love for
this little town have been misunder
stood by the nearer and younger genera
tion, yet I am certain that the pioneers,
the men and women that belong to the
old oak tree, have all aeen In every
word I have ever written or line I have
ever drawn pertaining to SUverton and
the farmers around It. nothing to love.
All the attention I have drawn to It In
the past and any I may In the future
was. will be, to benefit Silverton. My
only regret la that we couldn't have re
mained always the same as we were be
fore th big osk tree wss chopped down,
as that tree seemed to fit Into our land
scape better than open or paved etreets
do. The tree seemed to be a center of
dignity around which could build, a
bys. Illbbards.
Skatfes. Drakes,
tree with e-tortes beyond the first white
man It ever saw; and many a day when
I have watched th leading citizens
playing marbles In Its extensive shadow,
I have thought: Mow many are in
terestlng stories you could tell, of sges
passed when you saw the beautiful deer
and other wild game gather at ycuir bane,
of the great pride you must have felt
when the old cock grouse hooted from
your moss-covered limbs In the early
breaking of Spring and of the Interesting
councils of war which painted Indians
In ancient days convened, under your
spreading old limbs. Who knowa but
what the great Snohomish, the chief and
orator of tb Santiams, made your shade
a stopping place going up the Columbia
to the great Council? At last you saw the
first white man and his ox team ap
proach, and later make treaty and trade
and war with the Indiana; and at the
very last, you find that you have been
chnsen as the center around which men
and women of the fine type build a
beautiful little city that for a time nest
led under your very branches for pro
tection. Tou grew snd spresd and at
last, as a mother that had walked the
floor nights with her babe, cared for it
In atorms, furnished a cool shade for It
In Summer, were now In the way. Your
limba had tried to climb Into the upper
window of one of your children's atones.
That was enough, a new element had
come to town on a railroad, to make SU
verton like other towns, so the giant
tree heard Its fate from a Jury that were
strangers. The tree might have called
for help, but Ita real friends, the old
pioneers, were away. Borne of them each
passing year had been driven by It
across the old covered bridge never to
return, and others were out of town on
their adjoining farms. The giant oak.
the tree that had the beautiful stories
to tell, waa voted "guilty" and was slain.
That evening as Its huge branches were
divided among the town's people, a small
party of big men gathered at the stump
of the tree. They mere mad men and
sad men as they realised that SUverton
had to change, that a newer element with
higher collars and smaller hats was In
command. Many of their best and brav
eat citizens had already gone beyond the
call of hum-in voice, others would soon
follow, and the tree, being one of them,
had, also, made obelaance to the demand
of society, faeihlon and wealth. From
that day the dignity of SUverton began
to wane. Thus I shall not wonder after
I wr'te of and draw the beauties of dear
old SUverton. as I have done In thla book.
If by some I am misunderstood; but I
shall nover desert SUverton; It is my
home and always will be. To me the old
oak tree always stands and under It the
men play marbles. The pioneers and
their families that mads It soc full of
character are still In their prime of Ufa.
the first besutlful girl I ever saw Is still
there Just ss beautiful as ever, and In
the streets I yet hear the latest marches
by the old SUverton band, the stores sre
still aglow with rich beauties. That's
why I love It ao dearly and that's why
It's yet home to me.
HOMER DAVENPORT.
' New York, Juno 17, 1S10.
CHAPTER I.
IT WAS getting late one evening on
the farm In the Waldo Hills, Oregon;
we were all sitting around th fire
place; It was Fall, and while not cold.
It was very damp. Father had been to
tswn that day and be was discussing
rjs-
with my stepmother and my grand
mother th advisability of going to SU
verton to Uv. H aald that very time
he want to town lately Tom Welah
wanted him to move down and take
charge of the Grange atore.
It waa a great evening, if It waa
rainy. I got out of Grandmother's lap
and turned to the hired man and said.
"Just think of It. we are going'to Sil
verton maybe, to live right In the heart
of the town." Finally I bad to go to
bed. though I waan't a bit sleepy and
I don't remember of sleeping a wink
that night, but at the first excuse of
daylight, I was up and off to the neigh
bors and relatives to tell them the
news. It had stopped raining, and waa
as clear and beautiful as could be. I
stood up on a rail fence and looked all
over the country for miles around as
far aa the eye could reach, over the
landacaps I knew ao well; In fact, the
only one I knew. I could hear th bell
on the engine at Salem 11 miles away,
ao clear was the atmosphere. Although
early In the morning, my chapped feet
didn't hurt me aa usual, so from on
uncle's hous I went to another and
around until I had told all my cousins
that ws were going to Silverton to live,
that I was sorry. I hated to leave them,
but the demand waa great. Th city
was calling for us and we would per
haps hav to go.
At Grandmother Goer's I found Grand
mother Davenport, who had beat me
over. She waa old. but aa apry aa a 16-year-old
girl. Aa the two-grandmothers
atood aide by aids on the porch as
I approached, I thought of what two
perfect women they wer. The earth's
surface could have been combed and
two finer types of womanhood could
not have been found. As I had no
mother, these two old ladies had reared
me, and In a way they seemed more
like mothers than grandmother.
Up to thla time the feeling; of de
light had made It posalbl for my bar
feet Just to touch the hlgb places, but
here at Grandmother Geer'a thlnga took
on a serious aspect. I yelled to them,
"Halloa." aa 1 was opening the old
gate that led past the big yellow rose
bush, and all they did was to let their
beada op over on the one shoulder and
smile. When I came closer and drew a
long breath. Grandmother Geer said,
"Homer, you and Grandma aren't going
to leave me, are you?" All I did was to
nod and ask her If she had any cookies,
when Grandmother Davenport broke
down and commenced to sob. Finally
we all sat down. I with the cookies and
the rest with long faces. Granny Geer
said, "Well, Grandpa will get rid of all
the chlckena If you're going, we won't
have any one to hunt egffs, and no
one to go with me to dig dandelion
greens; and ws won't see any boy tid
ing the old red bull to the state fair
again, will we. Grandma?" Then they
both broke down and cried. "'But I'll
come up and gather the eggs for you.
It's only five miles." and I told her
maybe we wouldn't go until Spring
anyway, and thlnga had become ao
sad by this time that I thought I had
better go on to the next neighbor's;
so I left them with their heads on
each other's shoulders, saying some
thing In low tones.
In a few days father returned again
from Silverton and said he had prom
ised that he would take the Grange
store in the Spring. It seemed as
though Winter would never pass; It ac
tually laatefl yeare. We talked of
nothing elae during the evenings, and
I thought of nothing else, dreamed
of nothing else during the nights. Fin
ally as Spring" opened we thought of
Old John, a big, fat. round bay horse
with knowing brown eyes. In fact,
he waa one of the family; all of us
except my own mother and father had
learned to ride and drive with old
John, as had the neighbors' children.
It wouldn't do to take him to Silver
ton, as he was afraid of covered bridges
and bass drums, and they had one of
each In that place.
Father didn't want to leave the farm
he had chosen, of all the wilds of Ore
gon. In 1851. But my stepmother knew
It was the only thing to do, especially
for my art education, which had al
ready begun. I heard father and moth
er In arguments, and heard father say
that the city waa no place to teach
art; that art was most In evidence In
the country, especially such a country,
but women always win, so later In the
Spring my father sold the most beau
tiful farm I ever saw that we could
move to Silverton. a town of S00 In
habitants; that I might live In the
Latin Quarter of that village, and In
hale any artistic atmosphere that waa
going to waste.
Old John was left at Grandma Greer's
with tbelr Old Charley, a horse nearly
as old but not halt aa smart. When
the folks moved to SUverton, they
left me In "lie. hills, after all. till my
achool was over, and I atayed with
grandmother and Old John, who didn't
understand It.
I rode him to Silverton a Sunday
or two, but we both felt strange. In
the pasture we were at home, but the
noise of SUverton and strange horses
and boys and girls didn't make us feel
Just right. I knew Alvln McClalne.
and one or two others, and everyooay
knew Old John, and most of them were
glad we were coming. Alvln told me
what we would do when I came to
town, but Old John bad to be left.
He had grown up In our family,
father got him when he was an orphan
colt, and my own mother made a pet
out of him. Ho was smart. Hs used
to get Into the mllkhouse and drink
up ail the milk. When he had don
that, you could always find him In
canyon pasture. It was the farthest
awsy from the house. He oould open
any gate that farmers made, and they
made the best; he could even open th
doors to th house.
Up to the time of my mother's death.
In 1S70, he belonged exclusively to her,
and she had taught him to return from
Salem alone, a distance of 12 miles,
with the buggy, and never was the ve
hicle Injured. They used to take his
bridle off and tie a card, explaining,
on the back band of hla harness so
that If he met strangers they wouldn't
stop him, and those who knew blm
only spoke to blm and smiled aa he
passed. Sometimes If he struck a good
patch of clover m In the fence corner,
he would be a little late whinnying at
the gate; but he never failed. Once
on his return he made the philosopher
of the place think, as he came home
with pond lilies In the floor of the
buggy. There were no ponda or
streams In the Waldo Hills containing
pond lilies, npr were there any In Sa
lem, and It required deep thought.
He bad gotten bom so late that the
only evidence they had were the lilies
and scum from some pond, but the next
morning they found be had been In
mud up to his barrel, then they solved
the problem. They had sent him away
from Salem without water; the horse,
knowing of Lake Lablsh on the lower
road, eight miles out of his way, went
there; Its banks are steep and th bot
tom Is very muddy, so th weight of
the buggy on the slippery banks pushed
him In when he went to drink. So he
swam In a half circle to get back out,
the floor of the buggy picking up the
pond lilies on ths swim.
He was a smart old fellow; In fact,
he and father were the thinkers of th
place: it was on him I learned a lot.
and between him and the ground I
learned a lot more. I remember one
awfully dark night I grew more than
attached to him; It was my duty to get
up the sheep, and that particular day
I had been playing ao hard I forgot
them. I waa asleep, when they woke
me to find out If I waa aleeplng. and
then they asked If I had washed my
feet; I was certain I had. but on bring
ing a candle It proved that I was mis
taken as to the date. While I was sit-.
ting with Just the ends of my toes In a
basin of cold well water, trying to get
up courage enough to shove in the
whole foot, fsther happened to think
of th sheep and he called out. "Are th
sheep up?" I had forgotten them. It
was darkand I heard an owl screech
up in the orchard. Shedding tears
didn't save me, and I was ordered to
to barn to get Old John. I bad both
band clenched In his man. I knsw
ha was tracking sheep. Presently from
out the dark ahead I could hear the
bell; then I knew that they would
start straight for the barn, which they
did. Once back In the stall I hugged
Old John, the tears on my cheeks had
dried with fright, and after a foot
bath I was In bed, safe from an awful,
dark night, a coyote and some bam
and timber owls.
But Old John and I had some pleas
ant times; our associations were not
all ghastly. In the Summer we used
to buck straw from the theshlng ma
chine; when there were picnics I used
to braid his mane and tall the day be
fore. Then when I rode to the picnic
with hla kinky mane, both of used to
enjoy It. and he especially seemed to
know how pretty he looked. But some
way he was always so glad to get
home; he didn't seem like another
horse, he Just seemed like one of the
family, and the only time It took a man
to handle htm was when we went to the
State Fair at Salem. When we got
within half a mile of the fair grounds,
where we could hear the boom of the
ill!
mm
"AUNTY" MMILLAN.
bass drum In the distance, he turned
Into a wild horse; his ears were ever
In motion then and his hazel eyes had
the sparkle of an Arab's. Ha
would try to cramp th buggy
and get home, and at the Stat
Fair It was always best to lead
him, as he pranced all the time. But
he was not mean: he didn't like stats
fairs, that was all. He and I stayed
at Grandma's until Just before I left to
go to Silverton. Old John had been
turned out on what we called "The
Snake Hill Pasture." and there he and
Old Charley were spending their last
days. He was past 20, as sound as
dollar, his only fault being that he was
a little too fat and lazy. Grandfather
had been over to the pasture to put out
some squirrel poison; It was on Sunday,
the last Sunday. I was to go to Silver
ton that afternoon. At the dinner table
Grandfather spoke of the queer act lore'
of Old John; said that he acted atrange,
that he first noticed him whlnneylng
long and loud; then he would atop and
listen, first with one ear forward, then
with the other.- His eye had a sparkle
that It never had, except at a state
fair, and he seemed nervous. "He came
to me and nosed at all my pockets, to
see If I had salt for him; then he would
try to play; colthood seemed to return
to him, but In the midst of his play he
would stop and call; he would even try
to look at the sun, and when I came to
the bars to come away," said Grand
father, "he came along and didn't want
to be left. When I looked back from
the crest of the hill, I could see him
driving th stock gently from on shads
to another." Grandmother, who had
been quiet all this time. said. "I can tell
you what's the matter with Old John;
he wants to see Homer before he leaves
this afternoon for SUverton. I shouldn't
wonder but that's It, so you must go
over before you start and say good-bye
to your old pardner," said Grandma, aB
ahe passed the pumpkin pie. "I expect
when I see you get Into the buggy. I'll
feel as bad aa old John, and may aol
Just as strange."
I went over alone after dinner to say
good-bye to my old friend and tried to
cheer hiinup. I pulled some volunteer
oats and took them to give him, also
some burnt cookies Grandmother gave
me, as he always liked something sweet
It was aa perfect a day as you ever
saw, the sky was very high and blue
and there was Just enough breeze blow
ing to move the leaves on the trees. As
I came to the pastur I was slightly
disappointed that Old John wasn't at
the bars to meet me. I could see, how
ever, all the stock up under a larga
spreading oak that stood oa top of the
small rise we called "Snake Hill." A
lark was singing on top of a tree
singing as if the yellow spot on his
throat would burst. I didn't see Old
John, but saw Old Charley, the yellow
horse, standing with hla head down.
Cattle stood close and more than 100
sheep stood silently by. Bom small
lambs wer playing on a log near. Just
- TUB FVITEJULIa
I a small children might play at a ftr
neral. Aa I came closer, I saw In the
shade of a mighty oak. Old John lying
dead. It seemed to be, and undoubted
ly was, understood by everybody but
the young lamba that theri was a fu
neral In progress. The yellow hois
stood partly over him and his nose rest
ing on the dead horse's shoulder. His
big brown eyes were open, but were not
focused on any on particular thing.
They wer blank and expressionless, but
his body was still warm. I sat against
t.e big round back that had carried me
after the sheep so many dark nights and
I thought of the picnics we had gone to,
and I fondled th mane I used to braid
for the gala occasions. I could see
the . faint scars of the collar ar
tugs that had been left when
years ago, he had helped father clear
up the landscape of a pioneer farm. I
saw him as my own mother's pet that
grew to be the mischievous rog-u that
SJUl lam liia y ... . ' j - - y - - -'
pies and drank the milk, and then hid
In th back pasture. I aw him In ta
days my sister Orla rode him to tas
Fourth of July celebration, where tle
DKI3 UlUiU nuu f a "
him prance for miles, and I thought ot
him aa the friend, even the philosopher,
the teacher of children, and everything
that a perfect horse could be. And it
seemed a fitting occasion, If he had to
die. to die on such a perfect day. tha
very kind of a day he used to enjoy
most.
I was some time getting away front
the scene, and when I got to the house
and explained the delay. It affected
tbem all. even to the- hired man. who
didn't like Old John becaus be go
lazy In his old age.
But In the afternoon we hitched op
to go to town, where I was to stay. I
didn't have any baggage, only a rooster
that I had for a pet. Grandmother had
been snuffling a lot since ahe heard of
Old John'a death. She ald that when
I went away to SUverton she might
not see me again, but she went putter
ing around from one room to another,
fixing up something In a bundle. Final
ly she cams to say goodby and brought,
a pumpkin pje. a pair of heavy wool
socks and a handkerchief, which I
needed right then. When we drove out
past the barn where the big Balm of
Gllead tree stood, that had been my
mother's riding whip once when she
rode on Old John, she broke off a
branch for me to mell of the sweet
fragrant leaves, on the way to Silver
ton. Grandfather and I ate the pie, we
were afraid It would get shaken up and
dusty. When we got to town and saw
all the folks we made them all sad tT.
telling them of Old John,
We all went down to the store, and
It seemed fine to stand behind the
... a nUrlr hut aa ftvenlnsf
cuuuwr ni t".r ' " ' - '
came on and grandfather went horn, it
dldn t seem so gooa. i uiun i c. m.uj
boys; everything was strange, but our
own folks; but It was great to know
we were there and we lived there, and
to see the farmers' boys come In, and
know you were one of the town boys.
It seemed like a year to the next week:
wnen l eaw sruu - ---
to him and he said, "Your grandma said
I should bring you home with me, sh
wanted you to hunt eggs for her." I
told him to aek father. So when h
got ready to go In the evening he drove
around In the buckboard while I hold
the horse. I saw them talking In the
back part of the store, and heard them
say something about Its only bavin
been a week; then they laughed; grand
pa came out and said. "Yes."
We drove through the big covered
bridge toward the Waldo Hllla, flv
miles. On th way we planned to fool
grandma: I was to get out at th
barn and slip along th picket
fence, and hide In the yellow rose
bush near the gateposta. and I did.
So when grandma cam out to open
the gate ehe said to grandpa. I
thought I told you to bring Homer
back with you." Aa Grandfather drov
through, be eaid, "Yes. but sine
he went to town last week he la
changed; he ain't the same fellow that
used to hunt eggs for you; In fact, h
didn't want to come; he's got In with
the boys there, and he's forgotten us;
In fact, I hardly knew him." By this!
time Grandpa had begun to unhitch th
horse and he had overdone It. Grand
mother had put her apron over he
eye and her shoulders began to shake,
when I dove out of the rose bushes,
so it scared the horse, that I forgot
wasn't in on the Job, and Instead of
It being a great Joke, like Grandfather
and myself thought it would be. In
stead we all broke down and cried.
Afterward I went all over the plao
before dark, gathered all the eggs and
found three nests .and that night we
popped corn and ate apples and I tol4
them all about SUverton and how
strange a place It was. In a few days
( went back to town. Then I got bot-i
ter acquainted.
I was big enough to help clerk In the,
store, but wasn't what you would call
a safe clerk. I used to clerk whll
Father went to dinner. Mrs. Francis,
a woman Just out of SUverton. used ta
be a regular customer of oura Sh
come one day and I sold her a yard of
(Concludd an Pm a.) ,
w t - -
OP OLD JOH3S,