B 3 35? SSfi 
 
GIFT OF 
 
 p 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 OF THE 
 
 ROCKY MOUNTAINS 
 
 BY 
 
 EDMUND DEACON PETERSON 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE COSMOPOLITAN PRESS 
 
 1912 
 
Copyright, 1912, by 
 EDMUND DEACON PETERSON 
 
DEDICATED TO 
 
 ARTHUR AND GEORGIE 
 
 2^5t^90 
 
CONTENTS 
 
 PAGE 
 
 Preface 9 
 
 Introduction 11 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I. The First Night's Yarns 15 
 
 II. The Second Night's Yarns 39 
 
 III. Which Details the Doings of the Third 
 
 Night, Which, Because It is Sunday-, 
 They Devote to Letter-Writing, and no 
 Stories are Told 142 
 
 IV. Conclusion 146 
 
PREFACE 
 
 These little stories of Colorado, embody- 
 ing the writer's Western experiences of 
 twenty-odd years ago, were first and fore- 
 most a labor of love. 
 
 When the writer was a young man, it 
 should be explained (though doubtless it 
 would seem to many people much like 
 ^^Rasselas" and his ^'Happy Valley" over 
 again, that either he or they should any of 
 them ever wish to leave beautiful old Ger- 
 mantown at all), he with several of his 
 boon-companions all got the ^Western- 
 fever" together. To follow in their fa- 
 thers' and grandfathers' footsteps — as is the 
 good old Philadelphia custom — and be- 
 come Philadelphia business men, made its 
 appeal in vain to these young hopefuls, and 
 they did not rest till, one by one, as oppor- 
 tunity came, each put his rosy Argonautic 
 dream to the hard test of reality. 
 
 9 
 
16 PREFACE 
 
 These ^'Yarns," the writer wishes to say, 
 moreover, though all founded on fact, make 
 no pretense whatever of being strictly ac- 
 curate descriptions of actual persons and 
 actual happenings, his sole aim and effort 
 being to make his delineation of persons and 
 events true to the Colorado life of that time. 
 
 And it is his hope that he may have at 
 least some modicum of success in his effort 
 to pass on to the reader that refreshment and 
 rejuvenation which he himself felt in thus 
 living his Western life over again. 
 
 For his figures for heights of mountains, 
 distances, etc., the author wishes to ac- 
 knowledge here with thanks his indebted- 
 ness to the Encyclopedia Americana. 
 Very sincerely, 
 
 The Author. 
 
 Philadelphia^ Pa., August, igi2. 
 
INTRODUCTION 
 
 The log-cabin to which the reader is here 
 introduced was built upon its quarter-sec- 
 tion of land near the foot of Long's Peak/ 
 Colorado, on the banks of the North St. 
 Vrain, by an ex-Captain in the U. S. Army 
 whom we shall call Cap.*^ White; which 
 quarter-section had been presented to the 
 said officer by Uncle Sam at the close of 
 the Civil War, and the gallant Captain 
 had used it for a number of years as a cattle- 
 ranch. 
 
 In 1882, when a young man, the writer 
 lived for about a month in this log-cabin 
 — hunting and fishing, riding down to 
 
 ^ Long's Peak is in what is known as the "Front Range" 
 of the Rocky Mountains, is about 48 miles northwest of Den- 
 ver, and is 14,171 feet above the sea, being a little higher 
 than Pike's, which is 14,147. In 1819 Stephen H. Long ex- 
 plored the northern part of Colorado, and Long's Peak was 
 named after him. The view of the Peak from Antelope Park, 
 about a mile from Lyons, is very fine. 
 
 2 Pronounced simply "Cap" as spelled, and not "Captain," 
 though, of course, that had been his rank in the U. S. Army. 
 
 II 
 
12 * INTRODUCTION 
 
 Lyons, five miles distant, by way of Ante- 
 lope Park, over the picturesque mountain- 
 trail every fine day, as a rule, for his mail, 
 etc.; riding out on to the cattle-range at 
 regular intervals to salt the cattle (great 
 steers, most of them, many of which were 
 much larger than a horse, and all, cows 
 as well as steers, and the two dare-devil, 
 swaggering bulls, almost as wild as deer 
 — feeding with the deer at times, we have 
 been told — and no wonder, for they lived 
 almost as wild a life: the cows were 
 never milked, and, with the exception 
 of the salt, none of these cattle looked 
 to man for anything). But how they all 
 did respect his horse's hoofs! When- 
 ever, in salting the cattle, in his horse's 
 opinion, these big brutes of steers became a 
 little too familiar in their manners, how 
 that noble animal would wheel round and 
 deliver a broadside kick with both hind 
 legs, that shot out like lightning together 
 with catapult-power! Then how the big 
 
INTRODUCTION 13 
 
 steers would shrink away and scatter, the 
 biggest and bravest and longest-horned of 
 them! We do not remember that the bulls 
 were ever presuming, and it is hard to 
 imagine a bull being afraid of anything — 
 but when we were horseback we do not 
 remember ever fearing them. And how 
 they all did love the salt! We always went 
 out upon the range to salt the cattle armed 
 with pistol and great blacksnake whip, but 
 there was never any use for either that we 
 remember, yet one feels safer to go armed 
 in the wilderness, where the wild animals 
 are uncaged and there are no policemen to 
 come at call. 
 
 Note. — For the sake of whoever desires to visit the Cap. 
 White Log-Cabin, as it may still be there, we will give a 
 route from Denver: To Boulder; to Lyons through St. Vrain 
 Canon; and then through Antelope Park, always towards 
 Long's Peak, till you come to the North St. Vrain, and then 
 up the St. Vrain to the cabin. Distance from Lyons to cabin, 
 five miles. 
 
CHAPTER I 
 
 THE FIRST night's YARNS 
 
 Now, if you had been a guest in the Cap. 
 White Cabin upon a certain evening some 
 twenty-odd years ago, you might have 
 heard Cap. White spin off the following 
 little Indian yarn: — 
 
 CAP. WHITE AND THE INDIANS 
 
 ^'Some people think that Indians never 
 laugh, and cannot appreciate a joke," said 
 the Captain, ^'but I know different. Let 
 me tell you a story." 
 
 The worthy Captain is one of a party of 
 four men sitting round the table in the 
 cabin, upon which table there is nothing 
 but a little brown jug, some glasses, and 
 pipes and tobacco. 
 
 What does the jug contain? 
 
 Well, it looks like cider, as it stands there 
 15 
 
i6 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 in the glasses, doesn't it? and perhaps it is. 
 Let us not be too inquisitive. 
 
 ^^I was lying down there by the fire- 
 place one night," pursued the Captain, 
 ^'stretched out at my ease luxuriously, and 
 reading a book by the light of the blazing 
 logs, when a party of Indians broke in upon 
 me suddenly and filled the cabin. 
 
 ''I was surprised, of course, and yet I 
 knew that Indians were near, for I had seen 
 the smoke of their fires over there in Dead 
 Man's Gulch, ^ and I knew that at that time 
 of year they always come down hereabouts 
 to visit the graves of their forefathers. 
 
 ^'Well, they kept nosing around the 
 cabin, looking in the cupboard, looking at 
 everything almost, and examining and han- 
 dling things at their pleasure, while I stood 
 with my back to the fire, facing them, and 
 watching them. 
 
 '^I was unarmed, though there was a six- 
 shooter lying on the mantel-piece within 
 
 1 About half a mile from the cabin. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 17 
 
 reach that I knew was all loaded and ready 
 for use if need should come. 
 
 ^'They were all armed, every man of 
 them, each with his rifle and hunting knife. 
 I presume there were ten or more of them 
 in the cabin, and more seemed to be out- 
 side. 
 
 ^^At last one of the Indians commenced 
 fingering some property of mine (I really 
 have forgotten now what it was, but it was 
 something precious to me — very likely a 
 letter or trinket from a certain lady then 
 residing away back East, but who is now 
 my wife). 
 
 ^'At any rate it was more than I could 
 put up with. 
 
 ^'I made a rush for him in a rage and 
 caught him by the shoulders; then pulling 
 him away, I pushed him toward the open 
 door and kicked him out of it. 
 
 ^'And how do you think the other In- 
 dians took it? 
 
 "Why, they just guffawed, and jollied 
 
i8 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 the chap from the word ^go' — all the time 
 I had hold of him. They enjoyed it thor- 
 oughly, and apparently had not the remot- 
 est idea of piling pell-mell on to me and 
 overpowering me by sheer force of num- 
 bers as they could easily have done, most 
 likely, but took it all as a joke on their 
 own comrade, and when I walked back into 
 the cabin among them, they evidently 
 thought I was a man after their own heart, 
 and treated me after that incident, during 
 the remainder of their self-invited visit 
 upon me that evening, with the greatest 
 respect." 
 
 ^'Good!" cried Pete the Printer, ''tell us 
 another." The others made a chorus for 
 an encore, so presently Cap. yielded. 
 
 Just a word here, parenthetically, as to 
 Pete the Printer. In polite society in Col- 
 orado and the West, as well as back East, 
 this young man was always called, of 
 course, by his right name, "Mr. Petrie 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 19 
 
 Pastorius." But the printers of Colorado 
 generally called him ^Tete" and in the Cap. 
 White Log-Cabin near the foot of Long's 
 Peak, the scene of our story, it was usually 
 ^Tete" and ^Tete the Printer." 
 
 As to what manner of young man this 
 Mr. Petrie Pastorius was, by his mode of 
 speech, general appearance and bearing, 
 which were those of a young man of cul- 
 ture and refinement, we are justified in the 
 surmise, we think, that Petrie came of a 
 good family of some wealth and promi- 
 nence ''Back East," and that, either from 
 pure love of adventure, or seeking to better 
 his fortunes, the young man was finishing 
 off his education by seeing life at first hand 
 — as is the immemorial custom in Ger- 
 many; and was, very much after the man- 
 ner of the German student, ''roughing" it 
 in the West, and working at his trade of 
 printer (which trade, it was quite possible, 
 he had learned in the printing ofiice of his 
 father's publishing house in Philadelphia). 
 
20 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 But, however correct that guess may be, 
 Pete the Printer's character and standing 
 in Colorado were, to sum up the whole 
 matter, something like this: 
 
 To the foremen of many newspapers and 
 printing offices, from Greeley to Pueblo, 
 and from Denver to Grand Junction, Pete 
 the Printer was known simply as a good, 
 faithful printer-at-the-case. To the edi- 
 tors of the Grand Junction Newis, Central 
 City Register-Call, Denver Rocky Moun- 
 tain N enjoys, and Denver Inter-Ocean, he 
 was known also as a budding young writer, 
 whose poetic effusions and what not, they 
 were willing to publish. To the County 
 Judge of Gilpin County, he was known 
 (ah, unhappy fate!) as an unfortunate 
 young gentleman whom the eagle eye of the 
 inquisitive and unsympathetic Sheriff of 
 that County had detected carrying a pistol 
 in the hip-pocket of his trousers (shortly 
 after Colorado had passed the law prohibit- 
 ing the carrying of concealed weapons) 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 21 
 
 and who, because of his sadly misplaced 
 faith in the Equity of Courts (being young 
 and inexperienced in the ways of this 
 wicked world) had (instead of doing as he 
 should have done, retained a lawyer to do 
 it for him) argued his own case in the pis- 
 tol-afifair before the said Judge, to his sor- 
 row, and who, had not his friends come 
 stoutly to his rescue in his sad predicament 
 (maintaining that he was a victim of cir- 
 cumstances and was amply justified in so 
 arming himself, as he thought his life was 
 in danger, and he had only armed himself 
 with the pistol in self-defense), he would 
 not only have been mulcted of fifty dollars 
 but would have had an opportunity to 
 write a book in jail like John Bunyan, or 
 receive his friends in prison like immortal 
 Socrates! To polite society in various 
 parts of the Centennial State, notably, per- 
 haps, the recherche circles of Denver and 
 Colorado Springs, he was known as an 
 agreeable young fellow who had brought 
 
22 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 with him from the East satisfactory letters 
 of introduction. So much for the charac- 
 ter and standing of Pete the Printer in 
 Colorado. Now let us hasten back to the 
 Cap. White Log-Cabin where Cap. is just 
 about to begin another story. 
 
 'Well, here's another little story, which 
 together with my first one, will give you 
 some idea, Pete, what a man has to contend 
 with who runs a cattle-ranch near the foot 
 of Long's Peak.' 
 
 CAP. WHITE AND THE MOUNTAIN-LION 
 
 ''One day I ran up the trail over there 
 that leads out to the winter cattle range, 
 back of the cabin, for something, firewood, 
 very likely, I don't remember. But I 
 hadn't a thing with me to defend myself 
 with, not even a club or a stick, let alone a 
 gun or a knife, when what should I do but 
 run plumb up against a big mountain-lion. 
 
 "He didn't hear me coming and I didn't 
 hear him coming, and suddenly there we 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 23 
 
 were right up against one another, con- 
 fronting one another there in the trail, only 
 about five to ten yards apart, and neither 
 of us knowing at first exactly what to do. 
 At least, I know that / didn't, and he 
 looked to me as if he didn't either. We 
 didn't take our eyes off one another, but 
 stood there motionless, for a moment or so, 
 till I thought he was preparing for a spring, 
 and maybe you won't believe me, gentle- 
 men, when I tell you that I then and there, 
 out of sheer necessity, put up the biggest 
 bluff of my life. 
 
 ^'I off with my hat and whirled it around 
 my head and comported myself in a man- 
 ner so ferocious and strange, even advanc- 
 ing a step toward the brute, as I yelled and 
 gyrated and swung my hat round, that, 
 darn me, if the critter didn't turn tail after 
 a bit and run away as hard as he could go! 
 
 'We had never taken our eyes off one 
 another, till he turned tail and ran away, 
 and it seemed to me the puzzled lion's 
 
24 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 thought was: What the dickens is this? 
 A man don't act this way, nor anything else 
 that I know of. — I don't know how to take 
 it. — I don't know what the critter will do.' 
 
 "So off he ran. 
 
 ^'And I can tell you I didn't lose any 
 time, when he was out of sight, getting back 
 to the cabin; and I snatched my rifle and 
 out after him, but I never saw him again. 
 
 ''You don't laugh. Muggins," said Cap. 
 (addressing Mr. Muggins, a grocer of 
 Longmont, who had furnished the eatables 
 and drinkables for the party — Cap. White, 
 Jim Johnson and himself, who were visit- 
 ing the cabin on a hunting and fishing 
 trip; Pete the Printer being their host at 
 the time; running the ranch for his em- 
 ployer, Barnes (one of a firm of cattlemen 
 — Krupp & Barnes — then the owners of 
 it), Barnes himself, the partner who 
 usually lived on the ranch (Mr. Krupp at- 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 25 
 
 tending to the business end of the firm 
 pretty much altogether at their store in 
 Boulder), being away on a visit to London, 
 England, his old home). 
 
 ^'You don't laugh. Muggins," said Cap., 
 '^do you believe it?" 
 
 ^'I believe it, Cap.," returned Mr. Mug- 
 gins, with a broad grin. '^I always thought 
 you were an old bluffer. Cap., and now 
 I'm sure of it. You don't bluff me any 
 more with my grocery bills, I can tell you." 
 
 ''Ha, ha!" returned Cap. "But what 
 would you have done in a case like that?" 
 
 "Oh, he'd just a' presented one o' his gro- 
 cery bills to th' lion," put in Johnson before 
 Muggins could open his mouth, "an' that 
 would a' settled ut — th' beast would a' 
 scampered away fast enough then, I'll war- 
 
 rant." 
 
 The laugh was then on Mr. Muggins. 
 
 "Do you think your life was reely in 
 danger. Cap.?" queried that gentleman in- 
 nocently. 
 
26 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 They all laughed uproariously at this 
 sally. 
 
 ''For heaven's sake, pass me the jug!" 
 cried Cap. 'That's the limit! — and I be- 
 lieve Muggins is serious, too! — He never 
 cracked a smile!" 
 
 "Oh, they won't hurt ye, these wild 
 beasts," Johnson, who was an old hunter, 
 commenced then in his quiet way, "it's all 
 a mistake t' think so. Ha, ha!" (chuc- 
 kling) . "Why, Barnes told me hisself that a 
 big bear walked right intuh this very cabin 
 one day when he was cookin' 'is supper, 
 an' cavorted aroun' on 'is hind legs, lookin' 
 at things — opened th' cupboard door an' 
 helped hisself to some biled pertates, an' 
 purty soon walked out agin — all on 'is 
 hind legs, jist like a man, an' as peaceable 
 an' innocent as ye please. T' be sure 
 Barnes did get up intuh the loft in a hurry, 
 but the bear just helped hisself to th' per- 
 tates an' then tip-toed out, all on 'is hind 
 legs, jist like a gentleman as 'e wuz — jist 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 27 
 
 like you 'r me. Oh, they won't hurt ye!" 
 (chuckling again). 
 
 ^'And yet how we do 'suspicion' 'em, eh, 
 Johnson?" murmured Cap., smoking away 
 at his pipe comfortably. 
 
 After a pause in which the jug was passed 
 and all smoked a bit in silence, Cap. turned 
 to Pete with : 
 
 'Tete, you're next, if you'll kindly do us 
 the favor." 
 
 Pete put down his pipe and commenced 
 forthwith. 
 
 ''My story is entitled: 
 
 " 'COLORADO'S WONDERFUL LIGHT AIR.' 
 
 "Though I was born in Pennsylvania, 
 and so, very naturally, love the Keystone 
 State the best, where I passed my halcyon 
 youth and early manhood and where all my 
 folks still live, yet Colorado certainly is one 
 of the most wonderful and beautiful States 
 among this country's bright galaxy of won- 
 derful and beautiful States. To one born 
 
28 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 here I think it must surely seem the bright- 
 est gem of them all. Aesthetically it cap- 
 tures the heart of the visitor at once, and 
 he may pass on to other scenes, but he never 
 can forget 1 The sky is the sky of Italy, 
 but mountain and plain and the wonderful 
 air are Colorado's own. 
 
 ''Now there is a saying out here in Colo- 
 rado, that is given as an excuse for many 
 a shortcoming, escapade and wild antic: — 
 
 '' 'Oh, it's the light air, — he is not to 
 blame! He could not help it — it's just the 
 light airM 
 
 "A young fellow gets very excited about 
 something and says a whole lot of things 
 that were better left unsaid. 
 
 " 'Oh, it's the light airl' someone is sure 
 to explain. 
 
 "The bank clerk, the most perfect young 
 man in town, who neither smokes nor 
 drinks nor swears and is superintendent of 
 the Sunday School, runs off with the bank's 
 funds. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 29 
 
 " ^Oh, horrible!' we cry, ^can such things 
 be?' 
 
 ^'But without fail the excuse is soon 
 forthcoming, 'Oh, it's the light air!' 
 
 ''Brown is false to his marriage-vows 
 and Smith fails to meet his financial obliga- 
 tions. 
 
 "'Oh, it's the light air!' 
 
 "When the 'tenderfoot' walks up hill too 
 fast out here and begins to puff all out of 
 breath, much sooner than he does back 
 East, of course everyone admits that 'it's the 
 light air'; but also, when an old man about 
 eighty or ninety years old takes a 'tender- 
 foot' out over the mountains to sell him 
 some of his mines and the 'tenderfoot' 
 watches him with wonder and admiration, 
 not unmixed with awe, go trotting up hill 
 and down, up hill and down, up hill and 
 down, for an entire day, taking his luncheon 
 on the fly or no luncheon at all perhaps, the 
 poor 'tenderfoot' crawling after him, al- 
 most dead with fatigue, and praying for a 
 
30 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 horse, why, then, the only explanation pos- 
 sible must certainly be, 'Oh, it's the light 
 air!' 
 
 ^'For an 'old man' almost anywhere else 
 but in Colorado is an 'old man' and knows 
 his place, and you know where to find him, 
 and he mostly always is there, but in 
 Colorado you can't take it for granted, and 
 you often discover to your sorrow if you go 
 out walking with the Colorado 'old man,' 
 that he is setting an awfully swift pace, 
 and is really not an 'old man' at all in any 
 true sense of the word, with the solitary 
 exception that he has white or gray hair; 
 — his cheeks are so red, and his eyes are so 
 bright, his tongue so voluble, and, above all, 
 his legs so untiring, that the dark suspicion 
 obtains in many a 'tenderfoot's' mind that 
 he is being imposed upon somehow — he 
 knows he is completely outclassed both as 
 a walker and talker, and he knows that as 
 far as all other appearances go, long before 
 his tramp with the Colorado 'old man' is 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 31 
 
 finished, that he, the 'tenderfoot' of thirty- 
 five, is the real bona-fide 'old man,' and the 
 Colorado 'old man' is not an old man at 
 all — the Colorado 'old man,' the 'tender- 
 foot' is willing to swear, is nothing at all in 
 the world but just a husky young man who 
 wears a white beard, heaven knows why! 
 And the 'tenderfoot' wonders if he just 
 dyed it somehow with snow off some moun- 
 tain peak, so as to fool and almost kill any 
 rash 'tenderfoot' who tries to keep up with 
 him, as he walks him around over the 
 mountains to show him his mines." 
 
 After generous applause, 
 
 "Hurrah for Colorado's light air!" Cap. 
 cried in his hearty way. And then, after 
 a short interval of silence, 
 
 "Pass the jug around!" he cried, "let's 
 all have another swig, and then Johnson 
 and Muggins have each got to tell one, and 
 then we'll call it a day, and all turn in and 
 go to bed." 
 
32 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ^'Not me!" spoke up Johnson weakly, 
 but no one seemed to hear. 
 
 ''Cap. is boss for th' time bein'," quoth 
 Muggins oracularly, ''he built this here 
 cabin, ye know, Pete, with his own fair 
 hands, an' although he don't own th' ranch 
 now, just as soon as ever he sets foot in- 
 side this cabin, Pete, he always seems to 
 think he does own it — and th' whole blamed 
 world to boot, for that matter, it seems to 
 me, he gets so dashed independent! So 
 though you, Pete, are th' real boss o' course, 
 it makes no difference — so tune 'er up, John- 
 son, there's no escape, ye see." 
 
 "Not me!" spoke up the old hunter again 
 in a little stronger voice, but he was not 
 noticed this time either apparently. 
 
 Cap. smiled good-naturedly at Muggins 
 but vouchsafed no further answer to that 
 w^orthy's remarks. 
 
 "Not me! — not me, I say!" cried Johnson 
 in a loud voice, growing more alarmed 
 every moment, "I'll tell no story, I tell ye! 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 33 
 
 That's not in my line. I won'tj I tell ye — 
 d'ye hear! But you can, Muggins." 
 
 ''Oh, / can, can I?" retorted Muggins, 
 bursting out laughing at Johnson's terror, 
 ''I like that! — Cap., you'll have to attend 
 to Johnson — he says he wont/' 
 
 "Ef 'twas my turn t' shoot a deer, I could 
 do 't — but story-tellin' — no." 
 
 ''All right, Johnson," spoke up Cap., 
 "you don't have to. We'll decide on the 
 fine to-morrow." 
 
 Then Cap. winked to Pete and leaning 
 over whispered to him: "I see venison 
 aplenty in my mind's eye, Pete; we'll talk 
 it over to-morrow. Johnson is the only 
 sure-thing deer-slayer in the party — we'll 
 fix him! He don't have to tell a story, but 
 he's got to pay his fine — we'll each have a 
 deer to take home with us if we work it 
 right — catch on?" 
 
 Pete winked back at him and smiled for 
 answer. 
 
 "It's your turn now, Muggins," Cap. 
 
34 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 called out, turning to that gentleman 
 peremptorily, '^get to work!" 
 
 '^AU right, here goes," Muggins re- 
 sponded briskly. 
 
 ^'The name of my tale is called: 
 
 '' 'th' cry-baby giant of roarin' fork' 
 
 ^'One day there came a-walkin' down th' 
 gulch of th' creek called th' Roarin' Fork 
 an' into th' town o' Glenwood Springs,^ — 
 which, as ye know, lays almost completely 
 surrounded by high mountains, so that ye 
 have to be all th' time explainin' away to 
 yerself th' feelin' that you're in a hole — 
 a great big fellah, a reg'lar giant, from no- 
 body knew where. 
 
 ''He'd an innocent, baby face, his clothes 
 looked like he was a rancher or such like, 
 an' he appeared generally a whole lot like 
 a countryman. However, though so tall 
 an' so big — such a giant — he looked just 
 
 iQn the Grand River, and the Denver & R. G. R. R. 
 Famous as a health resort. Pop., 1,350. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 35 
 
 like a big, harmless creature, an' quite a 
 crowd o' men an' boys got round him be- 
 fore long an' then some o' them took t' 
 guyin' him. 
 
 ''Th' fellah he took it good-naturedly at 
 first, but when, at last, one o' th' boldest o' 
 th' young fellahs, a husky miner he looked 
 like, slipped up behind th' big fellah an' 
 knocked his hat off, matters at once com- 
 menced to begin t' happen, though maybe 
 ye won't believe me, yet it's true as 
 preachin', an' though I never seen th' like 
 before, I'll swear to 't, at one an' th' same 
 identical moment that th' big fellah sw^ung 
 himself round an' his right arm shot out 
 like a kick from a horse w^hich sent th' 
 miner sprawlin', he also commenced t' 
 cry — he did, by thunder! He actually 'boo- 
 hooed', th' tears a-rollin' down his cheeks. 
 
 ^Turty soon, as th' crowed around th' 
 giant cry-baby grew bigger an' bigger, 
 there w^as some more insults an' gross prov- 
 ocations for him, an' again his great, big 
 
36 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 arm shot out an' another presump'shus 
 chap bit th' dust, an' then another time th' 
 same thing happened over again, an' then 
 another an' another, an' still another. 
 
 ^'He had 'em droppin' an' rollin' over 
 each other all round him for about a minute 
 — th' blow of his fist was like th' kick of 
 a horse an' any ordinary man didn't stand 
 no show at all — an' all th' while th' tears 
 were a' rollin' down his cheeks, an' he was 
 boo-hooin' just like any other cry-baby. 
 
 "By this time th' crowd had had enough. 
 There was th' greatest scramblin' you ever 
 saw for a minute 'r two t' get well out o' 
 th' reach o' th' big cry-baby's arm. 
 
 "An' then they all stood off at a mighty 
 respectful distance an' just looked at him. 
 
 "There wasn't a single one among the 
 crowd surroundin' th' giant, who dared now 
 t' come near him." 
 
 There was a hearty round of applause 
 for Muggins's story, and then, after all had 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 37 
 
 sampled the contents of the brown jug, and 
 had had their final go-to-bed smoke, Cap. 
 yawned and said: 
 
 ''It's time to go to bed! 
 
 "Pete, if I were you, I'd blow out the 
 lamp about now — the fire makes enough 
 light for us to go to bed by." 
 
 And very soon after that Pete was sound 
 asleep, alone in the solitary bed, while the 
 others, wrapped in their own blankets and 
 quilts (which they had "packed in" with 
 them from town along w^ith their "grub," ^) 
 lay on the floor and were also in the arms 
 of Morpheus and there was no sound in the 
 cabin but their regular breathing and the 
 soft, soothing sound of the pitch-pine logs 
 still burning away in the great open fire- 
 place. The season was autumn, verging 
 into winter, and the nights were cool, mak- 
 
 1 Wayfarers in the woods of the Rocky Mountains are 
 always welcome at any cabin they come to, to stop over night 
 and take a meal or two; but for any extended stay the visitor 
 is expected — even if an old friend — to furnish his own blan- 
 kets and "grub." So the writer was told when he was there. 
 
38 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ing a fire pleasant; besides, it was safer to 
 keep the fire going pretty much all night 
 out there in the woods — wild animals, you 
 know, will not venture very close to a light, 
 and in the darkness, as you are aware, they 
 can see much better than a man can. 
 
CHAPTER II 
 
 THE SECOND NIGHT'S YARNS 
 
 The next day was quite a busy day for 
 all. Pete had gone fishing and caught a 
 big mess of trout out of the good old St. 
 Vrain, Johnson had shot a deer, and Cap. 
 White and Muggins had, between them, 
 killed a big black bear, so there was a- 
 plenty of venison to eat, and trout, and no 
 one of the party would have cause to suffer 
 the coming winter for lack of bear-grease 
 to oil his hair with, at any rate. 
 
 But after a square evening meal in which 
 the venison figured largely, when they 
 again sat around the table with the jug and 
 glasses, pipes and tobacco upon it, they soon 
 fell to telling stories as usual. 
 
 ''Muggins has got to lead off to-night," 
 said Cap. 
 
 39 
 
40 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 "An' if I do," returned Mr. Muggins, ''I 
 know what my theme '11 be." 
 
 ^What?" asked Cap. 
 
 "Why, you — it'll be all about you; I don't 
 think Pete an' Johnson know you as I do, 
 an' I don't think it's right t' leave them in 
 ignorance, so I'm goin' t' ^'fess up' some o' 
 your sins. Cap." 
 
 "Oh, go ahead, I'm not scared. What's 
 to be the title of this yarn you're going to tell 
 about me?" 
 
 "I'll call it," said Mr. Muggins, with a 
 twinkle in his eye, 
 
 " 'CAP. WHITE AS A BULLDOZER' " 
 
 "Hear, hear!" cried Cap., smiling, "sail 
 in — I don't care." 
 
 "When Cap. took up this quarter-section 
 o' land for a homestead some years ago an' 
 settled down to cattle-raisin' with all his 
 might an' main, so as t' get rich as soon as 
 he could, an' send word t' a certain little 
 lady away back East t' come out West t' 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 41 
 
 him here, an' be his wife — (Ahem! — that 
 don't make you mad, does it, Cap.?") 
 
 ^^Not a bit of it — and I don't deny your 
 story so far." 
 
 'Well, in those days when Cap. was 
 workin' this cattle-ranch for all it was worth, 
 would-be settlers used sometimes t' find 
 their way up here an' interview Cap., so 
 I've heard, t' try t' find out exactly where 
 Cap.'s quarter-section was, so they could 
 take up a quarter-section an' start a cattle- 
 ranch somewhere around here themselves. 
 
 " 'Ah, Captain,' they would say, after con- 
 versin' a bit on th' weather an' other topics 
 of a general nature, 'show me where your 
 corners are — define your boundaries.' 
 
 "An' Cap. would at once look wild, so 
 I've heard, an' say, with appropriate ges- 
 tures: 
 
 " 'Do you remember those bars that you 
 came through by the creek, on the trail about 
 a mile before you came to the cabin — that 
 w^as my east boundary. And from those 
 
42 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 bars up to the Snowy Range is all mine — the 
 Snowy Range is my west boundary ; an' Cof- 
 fin-Top Mountain over there is my south 
 boundary. And that range of mountains 
 yonder is my north boundary.' 
 
 '''Oh, come oEV th' would-be settler 
 would exclaim, growin' angry, 'have some 
 sense! It must be at least five miles from 
 those bars to th' Snowy Range! — an' from 
 Coffin-Top t' that range o' mountains over 
 there, north, must be a good five miles, too! 
 Do ye mean t' say ye claim everything in 
 sight? I can find out in town where your 
 boundaries are, an' I will, too!' 
 
 " 'Much good it will do you !' Cap. would 
 retort. 
 
 " 'Well, if it suits me I'll come out here 
 an' settle — d' ye see? You have no right t' 
 any more'n just your quarter-section, th' 
 same as anybody else — you're usin' half-a- 
 dozen settlers' rights in this ranch, you are! 
 From those bars t' the Snowy Range! Ye 
 make me tired! If ye refuse t' define your 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 43 
 
 boundaries, I'll get 'em from someone else 
 who knows, an' if I find a quarter-section 
 around here that suits me, I'll take it up, too, 
 an' build me a cabin on it an' have my home 
 here.' 
 
 '^'Yes, you will— like h— 1!' 
 
 '' What's to prevent?' 
 
 '' 'All I've got t' say is,' returns Cap., in 
 a decisive tone an' a look in his eyes that 
 shows he means what he says, 'I'll make it 
 pretty hot for anyone who settles on my 
 ranch! You hear meF 
 
 ''An' th' upshot of it was, he scared th' 
 life out of 'em so, they were afraid t' take 
 his dare an' come up here. An' nobody 
 ever did come up here an' interfere with 
 Cap.'s little game of gettin' rich raisin' cat- 
 tle on this beautiful cattle-ranch, whose 
 boundaries extend in every direction as far 
 as you can see. Cap. didn't have t' build 
 any fences an' nobody else's cattle ever got 
 mixed with his, for th' Snowy Range was 
 a good fence, an' so was Coffin-Top Moun- 
 
44 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 tain an' that range t' th' north, an' few 
 were th' cattle that ever managed t' get 
 away across those boundaries. Yes, he did 
 have a fence, too (excuse me. Cap.), he had 
 about twenty feet o' fence — that fence down 
 there that crosses th' stream, where th' bars 
 are, on th' trail, as you come up t' th' cabin, 
 just as you see 't to-day." 
 
 Mr. Muggins commenced smoking, there 
 was some laughter and applause, and then 
 Cap. arose and spoke up in his own defence. 
 
 ^'Of course you all understand, gentle- 
 men," said he gravely, ''that this is merely a 
 Utory' which Mr. Muggins has just kindly 
 given us, and not in any sense a 'statement 
 of fact/'' (Bowing to Mr. Muggins.) 
 ^'This much is, true, however: — That I dis- 
 couraged settlers coming in up here because 
 there was no room for more than one settler 
 up here, and I was already here. See? 
 Now, Johnson" (turning to the old hunter) 
 ''you know what's expected of you! — it's 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 45 
 
 your turn next at the story-telling — youVe 
 got to tell your story just the same as any- 
 body else!" (with a wink to Pete on the 
 side). 
 
 'T\\ tell ye wat I'll do, Cap.," replied 
 poor Johnson, squirming in his chair, ^^ef 
 ye'U let me out o' the story-tellin' to-night, 
 an' purswade Pete t' tell wun fur me, — I'll 
 make a presint uv a deer tu ev'ry man in th' 
 party — so that ev'ry man in this here cabin 
 t'night uz we kum ridin' hum intuh Long- 
 mont, '11 hev a deer tu show fur hisself an' 
 take hum t' 'is wife, an' Pete sh'll hev wun, 
 tu, t' cil'brate Barnes's hum-comin' w'en 'e 
 gets back here frum ole Englan' (which is, 
 o' corse, ef I've th' snoopin' gud luck t' 
 knock over that meny deer, ye understan'). 
 What d'ye say, Cap.?" 
 
 Cap. (aside to Pete) : ^'The old hunter 
 must be a mind-readerl" 
 
 ^'Sure thing!" returned Pete sotto voce. 
 
 ^Why, as far as I am concerned, John- 
 son," cried Cap. jovially aloud to the old 
 
46 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 hunter, ^'I agree to your kind and generous 
 proposal with thanks, much as I thould like 
 to hear a story from you. Pete, what do 
 you say?" 
 
 ''I accept with thanks," responded Pete, 
 'Til rig up some kind of a craft and call 
 it a yarn — trust me — the inducement is 
 great!" 
 
 ''I know there won't be any kick coming 
 from Muggins," pursued Cap., "catch 
 Muggins kicking at a thing like that!" 
 
 ''I've got too much sense t' kick at any- 
 thing like that," returned Muggins, grin- 
 ning, "for I know we've got a sure thing, an' 
 it's a fool who'll kick at a sure thing. Who- 
 ever heard o' Johnson not bein' able t' shoot 
 a deer in these here woods whenever he 
 wants one?" 
 
 "It's pretty blamed near a sure thing, I'll 
 own," said Cap. "You see what confidence 
 we have in you, Johnson," (rising to his 
 feet and addressing the old hunter with a 
 low bow) , "we acknowledge, you see, John- 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 47 
 
 son, that you're the best hunter in the party. 
 And you see that you can't make any breaks 
 like that without taking the consequences. 
 We all agree to your kind proposal with 
 thanks/' 
 
 ''Oh, I'm lucky, that's all," returned 
 Johnson in some confusion, filling his pipe 
 as he talked, ''you're just ez good a hunter 
 yerself ez I be, Cap., ef ye on'y nu ut, an' 
 worked ez hard. How^somever, hev ut yer 
 own way. I'm much obleeged t' all uv ye 
 for yer good opinyun, I'm sure." 
 
 "Now, Pete, you're in for it," said Cap., 
 turning to Pete. "Say, Pete, by the way, do 
 you know it has always puzzled me how 
 in thunder a printer — you say you're a 
 printer?" 
 
 "Well, I certainly know the trade," re- 
 turned Pete, "my father was a publisher, 
 and I learned the printer's trade in his 
 printing ofiice." 
 
 "Well, as I was going to say, it has al- 
 ways puzzled me, Pete, how in thunder a 
 
48 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 printer could find his way up here alone 
 from Lyons to this cabin, even if Krupp 
 did give you a rough sketch of the trail and 
 instructions about it." 
 
 "There are printers an printers," sug- 
 gested Muggins, "Pete must be th' kind of 
 a printer that could do 't, eh, Pete?" 
 
 "Well, I did do it," answered Pete 
 gravely, the smile leaving his face, "but it 
 was more owing to good luck than good 
 management, I'm afraid; I'm not 'stuck up' 
 about it, and I'll tell you why. Cap. : 
 
 "It has always seemed to me, Cap., that 
 but for a kind Providence, I just as likely 
 as not never would have got here. I came 
 within an ace of going right on past the 
 cabin to the Snowy Range and nowhere, so 
 to speak." 
 
 "Why, you don't say so? — I never heard 
 that!" exclaimed Cap. 
 
 "Yes, I was considerably off the trail, 
 that's sure — too high up on the mountain- 
 side. There was only one little thing, it 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 49 
 
 has always seemed to me, which prevented 
 me from getting lost that afternoon, and 
 spending the night heaven only knows how 
 and where! I had traveled far enough — 
 the cabin was right abreast of me, had I 
 only known it, but I did not. There is 
 scarcely a doubt I would have continued on 
 my way and gone straight ahead, and per- 
 haps got hopelessly lost, but for one little 
 thing that happened, as I have said — and it 
 was only about half an hour to sunset and 
 nightfall." Pete paused. 
 
 'Well," queried Cap., 'Svhat was that 
 little thing that happened?" 
 
 HOW PETE WAS SAVED BY A SQUIRREL 
 
 'Well, I'll tell you. Cap. (and this will 
 have to pass as the story I have agreed to 
 tell for Johnson, though it is a short one). 
 
 ''As I have already remarked, then, just 
 as I came abreast of the cabin, which was 
 quite a distance below me down the moun- 
 tain-side, and I walking straight ahead, and 
 
50 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 having no idea the cabin was near, and see- 
 ing no sign of it — when out ran a squirrel — 
 a little red chipmunk came down a tree and 
 sat on a rock to the left of me. 
 
 ''Out flashed my revolver, I can tell you; 
 (the only weapon I had with me) for 
 though I had thought nothing about it, in- 
 stinct is strong in a man in such a case, and 
 there was no doubt but that if I failed to 
 find the cabin I would be without anything 
 to eat. I had matches, and therefore could 
 build a fire and camp out in the open, if it 
 came to the worst, but something to eat I 
 must have — a man after a tramp like that, 
 particularly in Colorado's 'wonderful light 
 air,' is hungry as a bear — eh, Cap.?" 
 
 "You bet!" 
 
 "And I was that hungry, gentlemen, I can 
 assure you, and quite tired as well, so it was 
 not blood-thirstiness but more blind instinct 
 than anything else, which caused me to 
 whip out my revolver like a flash when the 
 poor little innocent chipmunk ran down the 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 51 
 
 tree to the left of me and sat up in a squir- 
 rel's cute and pretty way on the pinnacle of 
 a rock. 
 
 ^'But when I come to the squirrel, my 
 story of how I came near being lost in the 
 Rocky Mountains, walking toward the 
 Snowy Range, with nightfall not far away, 
 practically arrives at a happy conclusion, 
 for the little squirrel was sent by a kind 
 Providence, I have always believed, merely 
 to make me turn my head to the left, and 
 gaze intently in that direction, for as I did 
 so, and blazed away at the poor little chip- 
 munk with my revolver (missing him, I am 
 thankful to say — so far as I know — for it 
 would have seemed sad to me if I had shot 
 and killed the very instrument of a kind 
 Providence, which, I believe, certainly 
 saved me much trouble and pain, and per- 
 haps saved my life), as I turned to the left 
 and shot at the chipmunk, I saw, through 
 the trees and bushes, over the brow of the 
 hill, about a hundred feet, perhaps, further 
 
52 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 down the mountain-side, the top of the stone 
 chimney of the cabin! You bet it was a 
 grateful sight! I felt sure at once from the 
 description that Krupp had given me that 
 it could be no other than Cap.'s old cabin, 
 and so it proved. I v^as saved by a kind 
 Providence, it seemed, that sent the squirrel 
 scampering down the tree just at the right 
 time to make me find the cabin. A few 
 moments earlier or later would not have an- 
 swered the purpose. It had to be just about 
 that very particular identical moment, and 
 if a squirrel had run down a tree to the right 
 of me, or in front of or behind me, it would 
 not have answered either. In either of 
 these supposititious events I can see myself 
 walking on and on — and then, with night- 
 fall, building up a campfire and sitting 
 lonely beside it, hungry and weary, yet 
 scarcely daring to sleep for fear of wild 
 creatures that might be peering at me 
 through the bushes or from the branches of 
 a tree over my head or near at hand, as I 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 53 
 
 sat by the fire — a hungry wildcat, perhaps, 
 or a mountain-lion, or a bear — who if I had 
 fallen asleep and the fire had got low or 
 gone out, might have made a meal out of 
 poor Petrie Pastorius, and all his grand 
 twentieth-century dreams and ambitions 
 come to a sudden and terrible ending, and 
 I should not in that case, be telling this yarn 
 here to-night." 
 
 ''You bet you wouldn't," said Muggins, 
 with his usual oracular shake of the head. 
 
 "Muggins," queried Cap., banteringly, 
 "do you believe in Special Providences?" 
 
 "I refuse t' answer, as 't might incrimi- 
 nate me, as they say in Court," returned 
 Mr. Muggins, grinning, "but I know Pete 
 '11 forgive me if I say that I'll bet he w^as 
 keepin' a purty sharp lookout for th' cabin 
 about that time in every direction there 
 was, an' more too, if possible; an' I'll merely 
 remark parenthetically, in relation t' th' 
 
54 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 fact o' Pete's failin' t' shoot th' squirrel, 
 that squirrel pot-pie is good!'' 
 
 ''You bet it is!" Cap. agreed. 
 
 ''I won't deny ut," declared Johnson, 
 ^^ut's good." 
 
 "Nor I," said Pete, ''but I would not have 
 eaten that squirrel, I don't believe, if I had 
 killed it, which I am thankful I didn't, — 
 for as I say, I believe it was sent by a kind 
 Providence." 
 
 "Neither would I," said Cap. "I 
 wouldn't have eaten it either, under the 
 circumstances — but Muggins would, I'm 
 afraid." 
 
 'Wo, / wouldn't'' returned Muggins, 
 "that's where you're wrong, Cap., I 
 wouldn't have eaten it under th* circum- 
 stances, for I couldn't even if I would — for 
 one o' th' circumstances that Pete was up 
 against was, it seems, that whereas he shot 
 at th' squirrel, he nevertheless failed t' hit 
 it; an' I have a rule I never break. Cap., — 
 I never 'skin my hare till I catch it.' " 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 55 
 
 ''Those Longmont grocers do know a 
 thing or two'' Cap. remarked in a very 
 audible tone aside to Johnson, ''they know 
 how to spit a hole in the snow, and they 
 know how to come in out of the rain, and 
 two or three other things besides, it seems." 
 
 "Ha! ha!" laughed Muggins, "see Cap. 
 squirm! — I beat him that time an' he don't 
 like 't one bit! — Come, now. Cap., be good, 
 an' take a good bracin' drink o' that molasses 
 an' water an' then tell us a good long story 
 before we go t' bed. Indians or mountain- 
 lions — I don't care a cuss which — anything 
 so it's hot — Give us th' hot stuflf ! an' a good 
 long one!" 
 
 "Not to-night!" cried Cap. testily. 
 
 He was lolling lazily back in his chair, 
 and looked as if he felt more like going to 
 sleep than telling a story. "Muggins, 
 you're talking through your hat!" cried 
 he, "you're always trying to make a man do 
 something that he don't want to! I don't 
 know any story to tell to-night, gentlemen 
 
56 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 — I'm going to beg off like Johnson. I tell 
 you what I'll do, Pete — if you'll tell my 
 story for me to-night, I'll bake a big batch 
 of biscuits for breakfast, and we'll have hot 
 biscuits to eat along with those trout you're 
 going to fry us as usual, I hope, and then 
 with that good cup of coffee Muggins 
 knows how to make, and some of Johnson's 
 venison that I'll cook myself, besides bak- 
 ing the biscuits — and Johnson can peel a 
 mess of potatoes for me to fry, if he will, 
 and also cut the firewood, and then we'll 
 have a scrumptious breakfast!" 
 
 "Take him up, Pete — it's another sure 
 thing!" quoth Muggins, "you'll never re- 
 gret it. Cap.'s biscuits can't be beat (if I 
 do say 't t' his face) !" (Cap. rose and bowed 
 to Muggins.) "I'd a darnsight sooner eat his 
 biscuits than hear 'im tell a story any day. 
 Some o' his stories he's told us so often that 
 he almost believes 'em himself. I'll take 
 that back. Cap.," he added quickly, and 
 quite seriously too, for he knew well that 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 57 
 
 Cap. didn't like a joke like that, and it was 
 never quite safe to make such a joke with 
 him. 
 
 'Tou better," retorted Cap., trying to say 
 it good-naturedly, ''or you won't get any of 
 my biscuits for breakfast." 
 
 Then there were just a few moments of 
 strained silence. 
 
 ''I kin reckermend Cap.'s biskits me- 
 self, Pete," spoke up Johnson diplomatic- 
 ally, ''ye never ate any better; I advise ye 
 t' axcipt 'is offer, Pete — an' I hope ye do, 
 fur our sakes, ef not fur yer own. Slap- 
 jacks is all right, but a man gets tired 0' 
 almost anything ef he has t' eat ut too often 
 hand-runnin'. I hope ye axcipt Cap.'s 
 offer, Pete, frum me heart I do!" 
 
 "Why, Pete, ye've got t' do 'tl" exclaimed 
 Muggins, waking up to the gravity of the 
 situation — the alternative of old greasy 
 slapjacks or Cap.'s nice light hot biscuits, 
 baked in the oven of the little cooking 
 range which Mrs. Krupp had persuaded 
 
58 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 her husband to pack in to the cabin over 
 the rough mountain-trail for the short time 
 that she and her husband lived there before 
 Barnes was taken in as a partner. ''Say, 
 Pete," he continued, wildly, ''are ye goin' 
 t' cheat us all out of our hot biscuits?" 
 
 *^All right," cried Pete, laughing, "I ac- 
 quiesce. I'll do my best. Here is my story 
 (and you must admit, Muggins, that it 
 sounds kind of warm to begin with, any- 
 way) : 
 
 " ^BEAUTIFUL MADELINE, 
 
 THE BIG swede's DAUGHTER; 
 
 A TALE OF CLOUD-CAPPED LEADVILLE.' 
 
 "Leadville, that makes her eagle's nest 
 among the clouds,^ is yet by no means more 
 like heaven on that account, gentlemen, as 
 you are all probably aware, and as I was 
 
 1 The altitude of Leadville is 10,200 feet, and it has about 
 12,455 inhabitants (1900). It is 80 miles by rail southwest 
 of Denver, and its annual production of metals amounts to 
 $10,000,000. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 59 
 
 entering that city for the first time with 
 an old Leadville acquaintance (a printer 
 named Jack Lafarge) Jack suddenly called 
 my attention, as we walked along, to a big, 
 fine-looking blond woman, w^ho was sitting 
 alone behind a colored coachman driving a 
 pair of high-stepping horses to a stylish 
 drag up the street we were on and coming 
 directly toward us. 
 
 '' 'A very stylish turn-out, all round,' I 
 said, after the team had dashed past us, 
 Very swell, she's a good-looking woman, 
 too, that woman is — who is she?' 
 
 '' That's th' '^Big Swede." ' 
 
 '' The ^'Big Swede," ' I repeated, Veil, 
 who is she? I never heard of her before?' 
 
 '' 'Well, you'll hear a lot about 'er if ye 
 stay in Leadville long,' replied Jack. ^An' 
 if ye ever waken up at night an' hear th' 
 pistols poppin' over there on th' hill, why, 
 you'll prob'ly hear some one say th' next 
 mornin' that ''there was a shootin'-bee up 
 at th' 'Big Swede's' last night." ' 
 
6o LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ^^ ^Does she keep a saloon?' I asked. 
 
 '' ^No, a dance-hall. Oh, there's a bar 
 there o' course, an' a card-room, an' var- 
 ious other games.' 
 
 ^' 'She must be rich, at any rate, to drive a 
 swell rig like that.' 
 
 "'She is rich: She's money in th' bank. 
 She has a good gold-mine, too — "Treasure 
 Trove" she calls 't — an' she runs 't 'erself, 
 dresses up like a man when at 'er mine an' 
 goes through 't regularly ev'ry day — she's 
 the reg'lar superintendent of 't as well as 
 th' owner. Captain Randall, a rich duck 
 here, offered 'er fifty thousand dollars for 
 'er mine an' she turned 'is offer down al- 
 most afore it was out o' his mouth, 'e says. 
 They say a hundred thousand plunks is 
 more like what it's worth, an' they say that 
 old Randall knew 't d — d well, too.' 
 
 " 'I'm right glad I met you. Jack,' said 
 I, 'for you've posted me up a little on Lead- 
 ville. What's the "Big Swede's" right 
 name?' 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 6i 
 
 ^^ ^God-'lmighty only knows that, Pete,' 
 returned Jack. ^She's always just called th' 
 ^'Big Swede." But some people say that 
 she's th' wife of a man named Rhinehart, 
 a mysterious individual 'at comes gallopin' 
 out o' th' mountains at night on a beautiful 
 gray horse, about once a week, puts up at 
 th' Continental Hotel, th' best hotel in 
 Leadville, ye know, goes up t' th' ''Big 
 Swede's" an' spends th' evenin' in 'er private 
 apartments on th' second floor where no 
 other visitor but 'im is ever allowed t' en- 
 ter, comes back to th' hotel about midnight 
 — an' a little after that, leaves th' hotel an' 
 rides swiftly off on 'is beautiful gray horse. 
 I've seen 'im leave th' hotel a thousan' 
 times meself, Pete, just as I've described, 
 for midnight's th' time, ye know, that we 
 mornin' paper men come t' th' hotel for our 
 midnight-lunch, an' he's as fine a lookin' 
 man, too, as ye ever saw — big an' tall an' 
 handsome, dark eyes an' hair, swell mus- 
 tache, an' always shaved nice an' clean, 
 
62 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 quite a dandy, an' wears a gray corduroy 
 suit an' fancy foots an' big spurs, an' gray 
 slouch-hat — oh, he looks th' gentleman, he 
 does, don't you fear! in ev'ry way. An' al- 
 most every time that you'll hear th' '^Big 
 Swede's" name mentioned by anybody 
 about these diggin's, you'll almost always 
 hear 'em say somethin' about Beautiful 
 Madeline, the ''Big Swede's" daughter.' 
 
 " 'Is she a dance-hall girl?' I queried. 
 
 ^'Jack looked horrified. 
 
 " ^Well, I should say not!' he answered 
 emphatically. 'Why, Pete,' said he, hook- 
 ing one of his fingers into the button-hole 
 of my coat, so that I could not by any pos- 
 sibility break away till he had got it said, 
 'maybe ye won't believe me! — But everyone 
 in these here diggin's knows it's th' gospel 
 truth! — that there girl is the most beautiful 
 girl ye ever saw! an just as good as she is 
 beautiful!' 
 
 " 'Does she live up there in the ^'Big 
 Swede's" dance-hall along with her 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 63 
 
 mother?' I asked, giving him a quick 
 glance. 
 
 ^^^She dont live up there in th' dance- 
 hall with 'er mother!' protested Jack, 'not 
 herr 
 
 ^'Indeed, Jack showed so much feeling 
 about it that he actually seemed on the 
 point of bursting into tears, so that it was 
 impossible to doubt his sincerity. 
 
 '' 'It's God-'lmighty's honest truth I'm 
 tellin' ye, Pete!' he asseverated solemnly, — 
 Whatever th' ''Big Swede" may be ye 
 can't prove it by me — an' Captain Randall 
 says he's been in her dance-hall several 
 times on business an' never saw nothin' out 
 o' th' way, though th' Methodist Church 
 people say it's th' mouth o' hell — so ye can 
 take your choice. But ye won't find no- 
 body in Leadville t' dispute that Madeline's 
 as good a girl as ever breathed th' breath 
 o' life! I don't suppose 'at she an' 'er 
 mother 've met in many years, Pete! Beau- 
 tiful Madeline lives on a ranch — "Sky 
 
64 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 Farm" is the name of 't. It's a mile or so 
 
 from City, which is two V three 
 
 stations afore ye come to Leadville on th' 
 railroad goin' west, ye know. It's a very 
 purty country down there, too, around 
 
 City, as p'raps ye noticed when ye 
 
 came by on th' train!' 
 
 ^' 'Yes, I remember it well,' said I, 4t 
 was as beautiful as a dream, Jack, and I 
 felt like getting off there, but I knew there 
 were no big metropolitan daily papers 
 there and the depletion in my exchequer 
 was such' (tapping my pocket with a 
 smile) 'that I felt I must hurry on to Lead- 
 ville where more chance of typesticking 
 was to be had.' 
 
 " Well, first chance ye get, ye must take 
 a trip down there,' he continued; 'I go down 
 there quite often meself. Th' altitude 
 down there is, o' course, not near so high 
 as up here in Leadville, an' they raise good 
 crops down there — wheat and hay, princip- 
 ally, I think — an' trees an' flowers an' grass 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 65 
 
 grow there about as well as anywhere, but 
 Leadville's too high for much vegetation. 
 I know they raise wheat down there, for 
 one thing, on ''Sky Farm," for I've worked 
 there meself more'n once at harvest time, 
 an' helped 'em t' harvest th' wheat, when 
 I could get no work in Leadville at settin' 
 type. The country's so purty down there 
 'at excursions run from Leadville down 
 there on Sundays an' other holidays durin' 
 th' summer. But here's th' Record office, 
 where I'm workin' now, Pete,' exclaimed 
 Jack suddenly, stopping before a building 
 which bore a sign reading ^The Leadville 
 Daily Record/ 'an' I must go up an' go t' 
 work. By th' way, Petel' he shouted back 
 at me from the doorway, 'your friend, New- 
 lin, is here — been in town for two weeks — 
 you'll meet 'im, most likely, if ye stay 
 awhile! — He's workin' on th' Evening 
 TimesT 
 
 "So Jack and I parted, and I did not see 
 him again for several days. But, as he 
 
66 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 predicted, I did hear quite often (as I 
 went back and forth through the town) of 
 the ^Big Swede' and of her beautiful 
 daughter, Madeline; and I also was so 
 fortunate as to meet my good friend, New- 
 lin, as well, the very next day. Newlin 
 was a big Cornell graduate whom I had got 
 acquainted with down in Denver, and our 
 greetings were most cordial. 
 
 ^^ 'Glad to see you, old man!' I cried 
 heartily as we shook hands warmly. 
 
 '''The same to you!' he returned with 
 seemingly equal fervor, as glad to meet me 
 apparently as I to meet him. 
 
 " 'Where's your chum?' I asked. 
 
 "(This chum of his, who was a surveyor 
 by profession, was, if anything, a heavier 
 man even than Newlin himself, and they 
 were both about six feet tall and broad in 
 proportion, and both about twenty-five 
 years of age, I should judge. In Denver, 
 though really no relation, they were some- 
 times called the 'Big Twins.') 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 67 
 
 ^' 'Oh, ''the loppus," you mean? — Why, 
 he's in luck it seems. We came up here to- 
 gether two weeks ago. But after a week 
 of hunting for work here, he gave up the 
 search in disgust, and "slid" down to Den- 
 ver again — and now last night he writes me 
 he's struck a steady Government job of office 
 work surveying in Denver at five dollars 
 a day!' 
 
 "'Good for him!' I cried. 
 
 "'Yes, it's fine! By the way, Pastorius, 
 though I'm sorry to say it now you're here, 
 I return to Denver to-night' 
 
 "'The dickens you do!' I ejaculated, 
 'sorry for that! — though I'm uncertain how 
 long I'll stay here myself, to be sure. 
 What's your hurry?' 
 
 " 'Oh, I've been sticking type on the 
 Evening Times, but the job played out to- 
 day, — the fellow I was "substituting" for 
 has come back, you see. And, besides, they 
 want me back right away at my old job 
 in Denver. So there you are. I leave here 
 
68 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 to-night. Have you caught on here yet?' 
 
 " 'No, not yet' 
 
 '' 'I hope I'll see you down in Denver 
 again soon.' 
 
 '' 'Not soon,' I returned, 'for I'm headed 
 the other way — to Grand Junction, the 
 other side the Range. I'm thinking of pre- 
 empting a ranch in the Grand Valley, Mesa 
 County, on the old Indian Reservation, 
 near Grand Junction.' 
 
 " 'Oh! and in a few months more now I 
 hope to start for the San Juan country and 
 open an assayer's office there — there's a 
 rattling big boom down there, they 
 say!' 
 
 "'Such is life!' I cried, as we shook 
 hands good-bye: 'Over the Range where 
 the Indians are, for me! — one of Uncle 
 Sam's free farms for me!' and with a laugh 
 I threw up my right arm dramatically in 
 mock-heroics. 
 
 "'San Juan or bu'st for me!' cried 
 Newlin, in the same mock-heroic vein, 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 69 
 
 laughing. And then wishing each other 
 good luck we separated in high good 
 humor and with much laughter, as young 
 men will, with all their life before them, 
 never to meet again to this day. 
 
 ^'When I met Jack Lafarge a few days 
 after this, and remarked that I was getting 
 tired of loafing round Leadville, he sud- 
 denly seemed to have an inspiration strike 
 him. 
 
 '' 'I tell ye what I'd do, Pete, if I was 
 you!' exclaimed he enthusiastically, 'just 
 what IVe done more'n once meself in like 
 circumstances. They're workin' with their 
 wheat right now down on ''Sky Farm" — I 
 know they are, for they've an advertisement 
 for help in this very mornin's Record — I 
 set the type of it up meself last night. O' 
 course the pay is on'y mod'rate — a dollar a 
 day an' yer board — but ye might do worse 
 easy. I'd take it, if I was you — I'd hustle 
 down there on th' first train an' ketch on t' 
 th' job if ye can. What d' ye say?' 
 
70 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 '^The idea struck me favorably. It was 
 ^something,' and 'something' beats nothing 
 any day. 
 
 '^ 'Any port in a storm, Jack,' I cried, 'as 
 the sailors say. Thank you for the sug- 
 gestion; I'll go!' 
 
 " 'Got th' price of a ticket — fifty cents?' 
 inquired he, 'I can lend ye a dollar if — ' 
 
 " 'Thank you. Jack, but that's all right,' 
 I returned — 'I've got a fiver yet, thank 
 heaven! I'll pull through all right — thank 
 you all the same!' 
 
 " 'I lost a twenty at poker up at th' "Big 
 Swede's" last night,' said he, 'but I'll beat 
 that squint-eyed sharper o' hers an' get it 
 back again to-night, or I'll know th' reason 
 why! — I've got another one yet,' and he 
 held up a twenty-dollar gold-piece. 
 
 " 'Put it in the bank, Jack,' said I, look- 
 ing at my watch. It was three o'clock. 
 
 " 'The train leaves for City quar- 
 ter to five, Pete,' said Jack, returning his 
 coin to his pocket. 'I must go round t' th' 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 71 
 
 office an' "throw in" a little type, an' you 
 can be packin' yer grip — I'll come down t' 
 th' station an' see ye off.' 
 
 ''So with that Jack walked off and I 
 hurried to my room to pack my valise (my 
 trunk was still at the station). 
 
 ^'Now as I sat in the train for 
 
 City at about half-past four, up rushed Jack 
 to the open car-window where I was lean- 
 ing out and watching for him. 
 
 " 'I hope ye ketch on, Pete' said he, 'I 
 hope ye get th' job. By th' way, Pete,' he 
 continued, 'you'll have very aristocratic 
 company if ye do — did I tell ye?' 
 
 '"No; who?' 
 
 " 'Why, Lord Archibald Glendenning!' 
 
 " 'What are you giving me. Jack?' said I. 
 
 "'It's true! — it's true!' returned Jack. 
 'Lord Archie is the real thing, you bet! 
 He's a reel lord — an English lord, he is — 
 an' rich, too.' 
 
 " 'How do you know?' I asked. 
 
 "'Why, all Leadville knows 't!' cried 
 
72 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 Jack, ^d' ye s'pose a reel English lord 
 could hide himself? — He has t' go t' bank, 
 don't he? Oh, there ain't no doubt — he's 
 reel, you needn't fear. An' he'll be there at 
 "Sky Farm" — he's in love with Madeline, 
 that's it! — an' he's hired out as a harvest- 
 hand at '^Sky Farm" just so's to be near 'er! 
 He's hired out to help 'em in with their 
 wheat-harvest again this year as he did last 
 year when I was there — but they'll want 
 one more hand, I think, — they did last 
 year — an' I hope you ketch on. Madeline 
 'Brown is her name. Bill Brown owns th' 
 ranch an' she goes with th' Browns every- 
 where. I suppose they're related. Made- 
 line does th' cookin' — did I tell ye?' 
 
 " ^No,' I returned. 
 
 " 'Well, she does, an' it's the wonder o' 
 the hull neighborhood, her cookin', I can 
 tell ye — it's th' best I I never ate such pies 
 in me life — the pie-crust just melts in yer 
 mouth (not but what there's plenty of it, 
 too!) Why, half th' swells in Leadville are 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 73 
 
 in love with that girl, Pete! — not t' speak 
 o' the men in th' mines — an' as for th' farm- 
 hands for miles round '^Sky Farm" they're 
 crazy about 'er — she refused dozens of 'em 
 afore Lord Archie came on th' field. She's 
 had more offers of marriage than ye can 
 shake a stick at, Pete! Lord Archie ain't 
 th' on'y one, I can tell ye! P'raps ye can 
 cut 'im out, Pete. I look for nothin' else 
 but you'll fall in love with her, too. / did, 
 but I didn't have no chance,' and Jack 
 smiled a sickly smile. 
 
 ^' 'All aboard!' cried the conductor. 
 
 '''Well, good-bye, Pete! — good luck!' 
 and Jack waved me a farewell with his 
 hand. 
 
 " 'Good-bye, Jack,' I returned warmly, 
 'and I thank you very much for your kind- 
 ness. Here, have a cigar!' and I managed 
 to reach him one just as the train rolled 
 away. (I was flush with cigars just then, 
 for I had received a box of fragrant Ha- 
 vanas a short time before — a birthday pres- 
 
74 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ent from one of my brothers back East.) 
 'Well, gentlemen, I slept that night at 
 'Sky Farm,' for they did want another hand 
 there, as Jack thought, and I got the job, 
 and my bedfellow was the regular farm- 
 hand on the place. I slept with him in his 
 room, and the distinguished occupant of 
 the guest-room (which was immediately 
 next to ours) was none other than that 
 young English nobleman, Lord Archibald 
 Glendenning, Madeline Brown's declared 
 lover and suitor for her hand. 
 
 '' 'Sky Farm' ! — Ah, gentlemen, it is a 
 very pretty picture that rises up before me 
 in my mind as I speak those words! — The 
 pretty red-roofed farm-house, surrounded, 
 as is usually the case, as you know, on the 
 ranches of Colorado (the /<3:rm-ranches, as 
 perhaps I might term them, to distinguish 
 them from c^///^-ranches) by a grove of 
 high trees ; the yellow fields of wheat wav- 
 ing in the sun! (and is any wheat so golden 
 as the wheat of Colorado's mountain 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 75 
 
 ranches?) Or is the sun anywhere quite 
 so bright, and the sky so blue anywhere on 
 God's footstool as in those beauty-spots? 
 Or is it only by contrast with the great, pic- 
 turesque leviathan-backed, snowy-peaked 
 mountains which wall them round, that 
 they seem so? It may be partly imagina- 
 tion, but it always seemed to me that in the 
 rarefied air of those high altitudes all the 
 colors and shapes in earth and sky are 
 brighter and clearer. Even down in Den- 
 ver the sunrise and sunset are gorgeous be- 
 yond description, and the higher one gets, 
 it seems to me, the more gorgeous the colors 
 become. 
 
 ^'But even on 'Sky Farm,' gentlemen, 
 there was only one angel! No, she was not 
 an angel, of course — I don't mean that: In 
 this wicked world there are no angels. 
 But she was a good woman, and a beautiful 
 one, and a sensible one, which is next-door 
 to an angel! 
 
 ''Every story, as a general rule, as you 
 
76 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 know, gentlemen, — as well as every drama, 
 every painting, — must have its sunshine 
 and its shadow. For such is life, as a rule, 
 though in Heaven we believe that it is 
 different. 
 
 ^^To be candid with you, gentlemen, I 
 feel the greatest temptation in the world 
 right now to take a sponge and wipe com- 
 pletely ofif my slate, as it were, all the 
 shadows in this story wherever they appear! 
 But perhaps if I did so, I would be doing 
 harm rather than good, for then it would 
 not be a true picture of life as I found it; 
 and would it not then be somewhat as if 
 that great ancient Greek poet, Homer, ac- 
 counted as you know one of the greatest 
 story-tellers of either the ancient or modern 
 world, had wiped off his slate 'Circe,' the 
 wicked enchantress, you remember, who 
 turned the companions of 'Ulysses' into 
 swine? But if indeed in all the modern 
 world outside this little scene I am delineat- 
 ing here, there were no counterpart — if this 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 77 
 
 were indeed an exception to all the rest of 
 the modern world, this little scene the only 
 one in all the world to-day where wicked- 
 ness existed, it might be excusable in me 
 perhaps to do so, — but, alas! I hardly 
 think I have that excuse for wiping the 
 shadows off my slate, for, I'm very much 
 afraid, gentlemen, that we have now largely 
 the same wicked old world to deal with to- 
 day as Homer pictured centuries ago. 
 
 ^'Here, then, is the sunshine of my 
 story! — Peaceful, picturesquely beautiful 
 'Sky Farm,' with beautiful Madeline, as 
 good as she was beautiful, and her manly 
 and true-hearted lover, the handsome young 
 English nobleman, Lord Glendenning. 
 The 'Big Swede's' dance-hall casts the 
 shadow. 
 
 ''Take a good look at the sunshine, then, 
 gentlemen, and enjoy it, so you can better 
 stand the shadow. 
 
 "I learned several interesting things, be- 
 fore we got to sleep that night, from my 
 
yS LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 roommate, the regular hired man, who was 
 quite a good sort of a chap, a pious Metho- 
 dist, who kept himself and his room neat 
 and clean, I was glad to find. I learned 
 that he had two suits of blue overalls that 
 he worked in, and one was always clean out 
 of the wash every Monday morning for 
 him to put on and start a new week's work 
 in. I learned that Mr. Brown, our boss, 
 was 'one of the wickedest men in the 
 world!' according to his good Methodist 
 hired man; and I learned that the boss's 
 son, Jacob, was only 'not so bad, because he 
 didn't know yet how to be — he was young 
 yet,' but John Wesley Clements (for that 
 was the hired man's name) considered him 
 a 'chip ofif the old block' and only 'what you 
 might expect.' Lord Archie was 'good 
 enough,' thought John, 'yes, he was a good 
 fellow, on the whole. He's all right at 
 heart, is Lord Archie,' thought John. 
 'He wouldn't harm his worst enemy 
 unless his worst enemy deserved it,' 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 79 
 
 was John's opinion. I was waiting 
 quite anxiously, I'll own, to see if he 
 would mention Madeline at all of his own 
 volition. After a bit I was afraid he 
 would drop off to sleep without mentioning 
 her, so I said: 
 
 " 'By the way,' said I, 'they say Miss 
 Madeline Brown is a pretty nice sort of a 
 girl — I heard so up in Leadville.' John 
 didn't answer for a little bit and then he 
 said very quietly and with a certain soft- 
 ness, I thought: 
 
 " 'Madeline? Oh, of course she's nice. 
 She's as good as she can be. You never saw 
 her?' 
 
 " 'Never,' I returned, adding after a 
 little pause: 
 
 " 'A fellow up in Leadville told me she 
 was the most beautiful girl he ever saw, and 
 as good as she was beautiful — very likely 
 he exaggerated a little bit.' 
 
 " 'No, he didn't — he didn't exaggerate a 
 bit!' returned John warmly; and then 
 
8o LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 pretty soon in that soft tone of voice again, 
 he said, ^She's all that — God never made a 
 prettier girl than Madeline, nor a better 
 oneT 
 
 '' 'How does she get along with the boss 
 and his son, then?' I queried quickly. 
 
 "'Well, she gets along; that's all I can 
 say. You'll see. Mrs. Brown's influence 
 is good — she's a member of our church — so 
 is her daughter. Besides,' he added, 'it's 
 easier for her of late because, as I suppose 
 you know, Lord Archie loves her and 
 makes no secret of it that he's asked her to 
 marry him. They're about the same as en- 
 gaged, I guess. He's rich. Lord Archie 
 'd die for her any day, he would, — I'll say 
 that much for him! But who wouldn't? 
 I guess there always has been somebody 
 about to pertect her. I've been here ever 
 since she has,' said John simply, but with 
 that softness again and also a tremble in 
 his voice, 'an' I know there couldn't no man 
 harm her against her will while / was 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 8i 
 
 around, boss or no boss or within sound of 
 her voice neither! That's where Lord 
 Archie and I agree. 'Stead o' hatin' each 
 other, we like each other better because — 
 because of Madeline.' And John com- 
 menced to snore very soon after this, though 
 I don't think he was asleep. However, I 
 went to sleep so soon afterwards myself 
 that I cannot say. 
 
 ^'The next morning at the breakfast table 
 I had the pleasure of seeing Madeline 
 Brown for myself, for she ate w^ith the 
 family as wx all did, which is not so unusual 
 in the country, I think. East or West, as 
 in the city. Madeline poured the coffee 
 and tea for us all, Mrs. Brown being quite 
 an invalid, I understood. Miss Brown 
 was at the table, I believe, but I do not re- 
 member her. 
 
 'Well, Madeline was certainly a beauti- 
 ful girl — strikingly so — my first glance told 
 me that. She was neither too tall nor too 
 short, and she had a pretty form, too — well- 
 
82 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 molded, perfectly rounded, but not too 
 plump. Her cheeks were exquisitely oval, 
 and with a fine rosy color. She had brown 
 hair and blue eyes. Her face was beauti- 
 fully molded, too. She had a pretty nose 
 — not Roman, but it was strong. Her 
 mouth was a perfect Cupid's bow, and she 
 had an uncommonly sweet smile. 
 
 '' 'Can any woman be an unusually good 
 cook and not be a fine woman?' I 
 cogitated as I ate that thoroughly good 
 breakfast (perfectly cooked, everything all 
 right), glancing at her from time to time! — 
 No man who remembers with fond pride 
 his mother's cooking, and then thinks of 
 the cooking of slovens and 'don't cares' 
 which he has been so often obliged to eat, 
 can believe it possible. A fine woman 
 can't do the slightest thing, even, can she, 
 without it being plain to the discerning eye 
 that she is a fine woman? And have we 
 not all seen beautiful women with spark- 
 ling jewels in their perfumed, powdered 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 83 
 
 hair and richly and perfectly attired in one 
 of the great Parisian dressmaker, Worth's, 
 incomparable gowns, perchance, in a 
 splendid ball-room, but did you ever see a 
 pretty woman look prettier than when 
 dressed in a simple dress, with her sleeves 
 rolled up, making bread, or doing some 
 simple thing like that? It is impossible 
 for a woman to look prettier than she does 
 when engaged at some such w^ork as that, 
 though she have wealth to load herself with 
 jewels and wear the finest clothes!" 
 
 ^'Bravo!" interjected Cap. enthusiastic- 
 ally, '^that's God's truth!" 
 
 ^^Hurra! that's the sort!" came from 
 Johnson. 
 
 Muggins seemed to be trying to think of 
 something funny to say for a moment, then 
 looked serious and cried out, '^That's 
 dead-right, Pete, — that's dead-right! You 
 hit it off dead-right that time!" 
 
 'Who has not seen some poor factory girl, 
 in the city," pursued Pete, warming up 
 
84 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 with his theme, "clad in a cheap dress, and 
 shabby but neat, outshine with her beauty 
 and grace and the sweet, gentle spirit with- 
 in her (none of which can be hidden) many 
 a grande-dame of wealth and fashion, who 
 passed her on the street! We men some- 
 times look at a woman and think: 'Could 
 anything be more inconsequential?' eh, 
 Cap.?" 
 
 ''You're right, my boy!" returned Cap., 
 "you're right!" 
 
 "And then," continued Pete, "perhaps 
 the very next instant, arises before us 
 (from we scarcely know where, unless she 
 dropped down out of heaven), shining like 
 a vision, a woman of a far different type, 
 and we poor wretches of men exclaim in 
 rapture: 'Is it an angel?' eh. Cap.?" 
 
 "You're right again, Pete," agreed Cap., 
 "you're dead-right!" 
 
 "Yes, Madeline was beautiful," went on 
 Pete, "and she was not one of the incon- 
 sequential type, I need scarcely add, but 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 85 
 
 a true ministering angel, whose prin- 
 cipal vocation it was, at that time, to 
 be the cook and maid-of-all-work at 'Sky 
 Farm.' She was about twenty years of age, 
 I should judge. 
 
 ''Lord Glendenning I took quite a liking 
 to also. 'They are a fine couple,' I 
 thought. He seemed to me a good speci- 
 men of the English gentleman — fair-haired, 
 florid, and he had gray eyes. He looked to 
 be about six feet in height, and was broad- 
 shouldered and well-proportioned. 'A 
 handsome, high-spirited fellow,' thought L 
 
 *' Young Mr. Brown started out with the 
 reaper for the wheat-field soon after break- 
 fast, and John and I followed him on foot. 
 Before we had gone far. Lord Glendenning 
 caught up with us with a rapid stride (he 
 had stopped to talk a moment wdth 
 Madeline, and then with Mr. Brown, who 
 remained on the porch and did not go to 
 the field with us). 
 
 " 'Mr. Brown tells me that you are a 
 
86 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 printer/ he said, coming alongside of me, 
 'and acquainted with Jack Lafarge/ 
 
 '' 'Yes,' I answered, 'that is true. It was 
 Jack, indeed, who put me "on" to this job, 
 — and I'm glad I came, so far, — that break- 
 fast was "all right." It beats Leadville. 
 It beats anything I've had for some time.' 
 
 "'Yes, Madeline is an "A No. i" cook,' 
 he returned, simply. 'I quite like Lafarge,' 
 he continued, after a pause. 
 
 " 'Jack is a pretty good sort of a chap,' I 
 returned. 
 
 " 'I suppose,' he added in a low tone, so 
 that John could not hear, 'that Lafarge has 
 "posted" you all about me and Madeline, 
 and various other town topics?' 
 
 " 'Oh, he told me a little bit,' I responded 
 briefly. 
 
 " 'Say, — I beg pardon,' the young lord 
 remarked a moment afterward, 'but what is 
 your name, if I might ask?' 
 
 " 'Mr. Pastorius,' I answered, smiling. 
 
 " 'Glad to meet you, Mr. Pastorius,' he 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 87 
 
 returned, in a manly, free-and-easy way, ex- 
 tending his hand. 
 
 '' 'I'm glad to meet you too. Lord Glen- 
 denning,' I responded, as we shook hands. 
 
 '' 'Now, I want to say right off, Mr. 
 Pastorius,' exclaimed Lord Glendenning, 
 rather abruptly, 'that I don't want my title 
 of "lord" to be a stumbling-block in your 
 way all the time in conversation with me. 
 Please just call me "Mr." Glendenning, 
 and let it go at that. That's what I make 
 all my American acquaintances do.' 
 
 " 'AH right, "Mr." Glendenning,' I said 
 heartily, 'that suits me!' 
 
 "And, to tell the truth, gentlemen, I 
 was really very glad of the arrangement, 
 for I'm afraid if I had thought he expected 
 me to 'my lud' or 'my lord' him — or 
 whatever they say in England — every time 
 I addressed any remark to him, I should 
 not have spoken to him very much, as I 
 certainly should have spoken to him when- 
 ever I did speak, precisely as I would speak 
 
88 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 to an American gentleman, with no 'my 
 lord's' about it, for I'm not built that way." 
 
 ''If you were 'built that way,' you 
 couldn't go on with your story, for I 
 wouldn't let you!" cried Cap., in his most 
 decisive tone of voice. "Could he, John- 
 son?" 
 
 "Well, I ruther guess not! It'd be a d — d 
 slim chance he'd have, I'm thinkin'l Even 
 Muggins there wouldn't stand fur 't." 
 
 "If Muggins did stand for 't, we'd throw 
 him out, too, eh, Johnson?" 
 
 "You bet!" from Johnson. 
 
 And both Cap. and Johnson looked kind 
 of sorry that there wasn't somebody there 
 that needed throwing out. Then Cap. 
 passed Pete the jug, and after they all had 
 a nip out of it, Pete went on with his yarn. 
 
 " 'I have to make myself more of a pub- 
 lic character than I like in paying attentions 
 to Madeline,' said Lord Glendenning, 'be- 
 cause of the circumstances of the case, or 
 they would kick up such a wretched dust 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 89 
 
 about us that I couldn't stand it at all. So 
 that almost everybody knows now that we 
 are engaged. And I can always give a good 
 reason why I am here at ^'Sky Farm" when- 
 ever I am here. I'm getting my dollar a 
 day and board right now, just the same as 
 you are, Mr. Pastorius,' said he. 
 
 ^' ^Are printers all farmers?' Lord Archi- 
 bald asked me with a smile, after we had 
 been working for a half hour or so, binding 
 our sheaves of wheat pretty handily, for all 
 we did not do it every day, or even once in 
 every year. 
 
 ^^ Where'd you learn this trade?' I re- 
 torted good-naturedly, smiling back at him. 
 
 ^^ 'Here,' said he, 'Madeline taught me. — 
 She's quite a farmer herself. Sometimes on 
 a farm, you know, when a thunderstorm 
 comes up, or something like that, the 
 women-folks have to rush out of the house 
 and help the men harvest the crop — and so 
 she ''knows how," though it is only upon 
 such occasions, of course, that she turns her 
 
90 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 hand to it as a usual thing. She taught me 
 on Sundays, to begin with, and then I hired 
 out here last harvest, and worked for a 
 couple of weeks. And when the threshing 
 machine comes round in the fall, you can 
 usually find me here, too. IVe worked at 
 everything around a thresher except carry- 
 ing the sacks away. I balk at that.' 
 
 ^' 'I don't mind that job if one only has 
 to drag them away a little distance,' I re- 
 marked. 'That's 7ny style — but to shoulder 
 a sack of wheat and carry it to the granary 
 about a block off makes me feel like balking 
 too, though I have done it.' 
 
 '' 'It is very seldom that Madeline speaks 
 of her mother,' said Lord Glendenning, 
 apropos of nothing, after we had worked 
 near together in silence for some time, 'even 
 to me, and I never press her to do so, but 
 she has told me, however, that her mother 
 comes of a good family — her blood, indeed, 
 is of the best — hers being one of the fam- 
 ilies of the original Swedish Colony of Col- 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 91 
 
 orado, near Boulder, you know. And her 
 three sisters and four brothers have all mar- 
 ried well as to money, and into some of the 
 best families of the State.' The young 
 lord's voice had begun to tremble, and he 
 paused. 
 
 '' ^I have had some acquaintance with the 
 Swedish Colony near Boulder,' I spoke up 
 quickly, 'and my recollections of it are of 
 the brightest and pleasantest, I am glad to 
 tell you. With a number of farmers' sons 
 of that locality, I joined a threshing crew 
 one season, only a year or so ago, that 
 threshed out the Swedish Colony's wheat, 
 as well as the Belgian Colony's, not far 
 away. We were threshing for some time on 
 De Vreeze's place — I presume you have at 
 least heard of him.' 
 
 '''Oh, I know him well!' exclaimed the 
 young lord, 'I'm chummy with the whole 
 family, in fact — and a very charming family 
 they are too!' 
 
 " 'I thought so myself, what I saw of 
 
92 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 them,' said I. 'The ladies I saw little of 
 except at the table. Very pretty girls, I 
 thought, and the boys were fine, manly fel- 
 lows, whom I got very well acquainted with 
 before we left. I can readily understand 
 Miss Brown's being such a fine cook,' I con- 
 tinued, 'coming from such stock as that. A 
 better table than we threshers enjoyed those 
 days we threshed out the Swedish Colony's 
 wheat, would be simply impossible. The 
 cooking was of the best and if the table had 
 been set for a king, I cannot see how it could 
 have been surpassed. Always plenty of 
 rich cream, always two great pitchers of 
 milk, one at each end of the long table. 
 There was always the great roast of meat, 
 and fruit and fresh vegetables in abundance. 
 Absolutely nothing was lacking, and an 
 abundance of everything. And the cook- 
 ing, as I say, was of the best. And talk 
 about shouldering sacks of wheat and carry- 
 ing them off to the granary! You should 
 have seen one of those big Swedes do it! 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 93 
 
 Such grace and great strength was a sight 
 to behold! Graceful dancing has been 
 likened to a strain of music, and it was like 
 a strain of music, I thought, to watch that 
 big Swedish farmer, with easy grace, shoul- 
 der the heavy sacks of wheat at the side of 
 the thresher and stride off with them to the 
 granary a couple of blocks away. And the 
 Swedish settlement was as clean as wax — no 
 dirt or unclean smells there, I can tell you, 
 but all sweetness and light! John can beat 
 us a little at this game of tying up wheat- 
 sheaves and making shocks of them,' I said, 
 laughing, after a pause (we were going on 
 with our work as we talked, of course), 
 ^but I can't see that he's doing much more 
 than we are. We get our sheaves done 
 about as soon as he does, and our shocks 
 too, and they look just about as well!' 
 
 " ^He knows better than to beat us by 
 very much,' returned Lord Glendenning, 
 ^catch him beating the other men by very 
 much! — he does a little more — just about 
 
94 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 enough to make him feel sure of holding 
 his job, even if we did want to get it away 
 from him. And, indeed, to tell the truth, 
 I often envy him, I'll admit,' added Lord 
 Archie, pensively, 'on account of Madeline. 
 He loves her, too — does John, almost as 
 much as I do, if not quite, I believe. He's 
 in luck, he is, to have a steady job here.' 
 
 ''At about ten o'clock Madeline appeared 
 with a pail of a concoction often drank also 
 in the Pennsylvania harvest fields — (I think 
 the ingredients are molasses and water and 
 a little vinegar, and a little cinnamon 
 grated in, and iced, of course). It tastes 
 very delicious on a hot day in the harvest 
 field. Madeline also brought us each a 
 piece of angel-cake. She put down her pail 
 and basket under a tree at a fence-corner, 
 near where Lord Glendenning and I hap- 
 pened to be working at the moment, and we 
 lost no time in getting to the spot. Lord 
 Archie in two or three long jumps and a 
 yell like an Indian warwhoop. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 95 
 
 '' ^Oh, how you frightened me!' she cried 
 with heightened color, as he stood before 
 her. 
 
 'Tord Glendenning looked at her ador- 
 ingly for a moment, and, indeed, she made a 
 very pretty picture, in her pink sun-bonnet 
 and white apron, with her rosy cheeks and 
 cerulean-blue eyes, and Cupid's-bow mouth 
 smiling sweetly at him. Then, all at once, 
 he caught hold of her hands, one in each of 
 his, ^My love! my life!' I heard him ejacu- 
 late passionately, in the low voice that 
 women love. (And I don't wonder they 
 love it, for it means a great deal to a woman 
 when the man she loves speaks to her in that 
 love-impassioned tone of voice.) 
 
 "Madeline blushed furiously, and her 
 voice was low and sweet as she cried : ^Oh, 
 fie, Archie! You know that that is against 
 the rule! and you made the rule yourself! 
 — that we were never to do such things in 
 public!' Her voice trembled, however, as 
 she spoke, and she smiled very sweetly in 
 
96 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 her great happiness in spite of herself. 
 
 ^^ 'Yes, I know I made that rule,' the 
 young man returned penitently, 'and we 
 ought not to, my dear, and 7nust not, but I 
 just couldn't help it this time — forgive me!' 
 
 ''She handed him the tin ladle, filled with 
 a drink out of the pail for answer. 
 
 " 'Let me introduce you to Miss Brown, 
 Mr. Pastorius,' the young lord said to me 
 as I walked up to the pail, 'Miss Brown, 
 Mr. Pastorius. Mr. Pastorius, Miss 
 Brown.' 
 
 " 'I am pleased to make your acquaint- 
 ance, Mr. Pastorius,' she said simply. 
 
 " 'Thank you. Miss Brown,' I returned, 
 ^and I am also very much pleased to make 
 your acquaintance.' 
 
 " 'Thank you,' she responded. 
 
 "At this moment young Mr. Brown 
 walked up, and shortly afterward John. 
 And after each of us had had two or three 
 drinks out of the pail along with our piece 
 of angel-cake, in about ten minutes' time, 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 97 
 
 we went back to our work again very much 
 refreshed, and pretty Madeline returned to 
 the house. 
 
 ^' 'After this you shall always have a pail 
 of the drink while you are at work/ she had 
 said before she left, adding, 'you can keep 
 it under a tree or in the shadow of a shock 
 of sheaves, and with a big piece of ice in it, 
 a pailful will nearly last you through the 
 forenoon and another pailful for the after- 
 
 noon. 
 
 And don't forget to bring us out a piece 
 of angel-cake, or pie, or something else 
 good about ten o'clock every day,' called out 
 Lord Archie to her. 
 
 '' 'Oh, you shall always have your "piece" 
 at ten,' she answered, 'I never forget that!' 
 
 " 'Thank you!' we both shouted in chorus. 
 
 " 'And there are three square meals and 
 bed coming to us besides!' said Lord Glen- 
 denning, smiling and giving me a good-na- 
 tured punch, 'and still they say the working- 
 man has a hard lot! I think it's a snap 
 
98 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 weVe got — what do you say, Mr. Pastor- 
 ius?' 
 
 ^^ 'It seems very much like that just now,' 
 I returned, 'but remember all farmers do 
 not live the way we're living just now. 
 Such cooks as Miss Brown are scarce, for 
 one thing. Suppose that toddy and cake 
 Miss Brown just brought us had been made 
 by certain other women you and I can re- 
 member, if we think a little.' 
 
 '' 'Too true, too true, I'll own,' he ad- 
 mitted, making a wry face, 'don't let's think 
 of such things. Some cooks are the devil, 
 and some women are the devil, anyhow,' 
 said he, as he started to work w^th a will, 
 and I likewise, for we both were anxious 
 not to be found wanting in our work, he be- 
 cause he wanted principally to be near 
 Madeline, and I because I thought the dol- 
 lar a day in my pocket would come very 
 handy. 
 
 " 'I think you make as good shocks as 
 John, Mr. Glendenning,' I said to him when 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 99 
 
 the gong at noon-time for dinner brought us 
 all together again and we all started for the 
 house. 
 
 ^' ^Thank you,' he answered, ^you make 
 me proud! I feel as though I had to,' he 
 added, speaking for my ears alone, ^Made- 
 line told me that I had to — that I must. 
 She said Mr. Brown told her he wasn't go- 
 ing to stand any nonsense — that I'd got to 
 do my work just as well as anybody else, or 
 get out — he wouldn't have me around other- 
 wise, lord or 710 lord! And I want to con- 
 gratulate you, Mr. Pastorius,' said he, 'I 
 can't see that you're far behind John your- 
 self. You tie your sheaves good and tight 
 and your shocks are all right. Of course, 
 it's work for us and it's easy for John to keep 
 ahead of us and do it a little better than 
 either of us, because it's his trade, you 
 know.' 
 
 ^'Little did I think as we sat down to din- 
 ner at ^Sky Farm' that day, that events had 
 already happened up in Leadville which 
 
loo LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 were full of significance to a certain extent 
 to all of us, but especially to the family- 
 circle at ^Sky Farm' and, more than all 
 others, to Lord Glendenning and to 
 Madeline. That dinner was the last that 
 fair Madeline was to cook at 'Sky Farm,' 
 and that morning the last that Lord Glen- 
 denning would work in 'Sky Farm's' har- 
 vest-field. 
 
 "There were a couple of letters for me by 
 my plate, as I sat down to the table at din- 
 ner. I tore the one open first that I knew 
 by a glance at the envelope, was from 
 Philadelphia — from my home. It con- 
 tained only a few lines from one of the dear 
 ones at home, but it enclosed what was in- 
 deed a very pleasant sight to me then, a 
 cheque for a hundred dollars. 'Well, I'm 
 on my feet again for a little bit,' I said to 
 myself, stuffing it in my pocket-book, a 
 great burden lifted off my spirits. Then I 
 tore the other letter open, and not recogniz- 
 ing the writing turned to the signature, and 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS ' rdi 
 
 behold it was from 'Jack LafargeM And it 
 was an uncommonly long letter at that! and 
 stuffed with newspaper clippings besides, 
 I noticed upon opening it! 
 
 '' 'Holy smoke!' Lord Archibald who sat 
 next to me at table on my right, exclaimed 
 to me in a low voice, smiling, as he looked 
 at the large and well-filled envelope, 'when 
 your best girl does write, she writes, don't 
 she?' 
 
 "I smiled at him for answer, and then 
 seeing that I did not wish to talk, he turned 
 to his dinner again with zest. 
 
 "But I ceased to wonder that Jack had 
 written to me before I had scanned the let- 
 ter very far. It ran as follows: 
 
 Leadville, Colo., July 23, 1881. 
 Dear Pete: — 
 
 We've had the most wonderful things 
 happening up here since you left that you 
 ever saw or heard of! The city papers are 
 full of it, and Leadville has talked of noth- 
 
102 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ing else since last night, when these strange 
 and wonderful things commenced to tran- 
 spire. 
 
 What do you think? The ^'Big Swede's^' 
 Dance-Hall is no more! It's burned to the 
 ground! And that ain't all! I don't know 
 where to begin. (You can show this letter 
 to Lord Archie but don't let anyone else 
 see it! Though the whole State's bound to 
 know all in the end, I suppose.) You can 
 give it to him if you like. Let him speak 
 about it to anybody else, just as he pleases, 
 or keep mum. Let him do what he likes 
 about it, but let him know right ofif! 
 
 Well, things commenced to happen some- 
 thing like this: Some time yesterday the 
 '*Big Swede" got the ^^tip" somehow that 
 the long-dreaded, often-threatened Day of 
 Reckoning had come for her at last! That 
 she was going to be raided that night at ten 
 o'clock. With crow-bars and axes, the 
 Marshal and a posse were to break into 
 the house, if need be, and with rifles and 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 103 
 
 revolvers, compel all the dance-hall girls 
 and gamblers and all the men found there — 
 everybody — (including the ''Big Swede" 
 herself, of course, — she was to have been 
 the principal victim) to submit to arrest 
 and be taken down in a bunch, and locked 
 up in the county jail till next morning, 
 when their cases were to have been brought 
 up for trial and sentence before Judge 
 Coulter. Of course this was all the w^ork 
 of Leadville's new Law and Order League 
 that's purifying the city, you know. 
 
 Well, the "Big Swede," the minute she 
 gets the "tip" dispatches a messenger, post- 
 haste, to Rhinehart, and up he comes at 
 about midday, running his horse for all it 
 was worth, and gallops right up to the "Big 
 Swede's" this time, instead of putting up 
 at the Continental Hotel, as he has always 
 done before. (His gray horse was drip- 
 ping wath sweat and covered with foam as 
 he galloped through Leadville, so Rhine- 
 hart must live a good way off, some people 
 
104 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 think who happened to see him, by the 
 looks of his horse, even if he had ridden all 
 the way like the wind, like he came 
 through Leadville.) Then in a very 
 few minutes, Mr. Rhinehart and the 
 ^'Big Swede" were seen to come out 
 of the house together, and proceed down 
 the hill to the Catholic Church Rectory, 
 next to the Catholic Church, not very 
 far you know, and then in about half 
 an hour or so, come out and go up to the 
 ^'Big Swede's" again. And when this per- 
 son who had observed the couple make 
 their call at the Catholic Church Rectory, 
 feeling very much interested, and being 
 well acquainted with Father Farr, made a 
 call himself pretty soon afterward upon the 
 Reverend gentleman, and asked him what 
 the couple's business with him had been — 
 (Mr. Rhinehart's and the ^^Big Swede's") 
 — lo and behold! what should the priest 
 say, smiling slyly, and with a twinkle in his 
 eye, but — '^They pleaded with me to marry 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 105 
 
 them," says he, '^and I consented, event- 
 ually," says he, ''on certain conditions," says 
 he, ''and I did marry them!" says he. "The 
 'Big Swede' is no more!" says he, — "She's 
 now Mrs. Rhinehart, if you please!" says 
 he, and the old priest chuckled. 
 
 And what do you think, Pete? — the "half 
 has not been told," as the church hymn says. 
 The "boys" soon began to get wind of it — 
 that Mr. Rhinehart had married the ''Big 
 Swede" (although, of course, the general 
 public knew nothing of it as yet) — and the 
 "boys," the regular habitues of the dance- 
 hall, dropped up to the "Big Swede's," at 
 their very earliest convenience. 
 
 Now, don't think I'm lying, Pete, when 
 I tell you the whole story — it's true! (You 
 must read the newspaper clippings I send 
 you, when you finish this.) What do you 
 think! First one and then another of the 
 "boys" snatched on to his favorite dancing 
 girl, and imitating the good example of 
 Mr. Rhinehart and the "Big Swede" took 
 
io6 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 a short walk down the hill to the Catholic 
 Church Rectory, and were married by the 
 Catholic priest! — and darn me! if all the 
 ^'Big Swede's'' dance-hall girls weren't 
 married before ten o'clock last night! If 
 it ain't so, Pete, I'll eat me hat! The 
 papers are full of it this morning, and all 
 Leadville is talking of nothing else! I 
 send you a lot of clippings out of the Lead- 
 ville morning papers so you won't think 
 I'm lying. The Catholic priest has made 
 Catholics of the whole blooming bunch, 
 and he exacted from every woman, they say, 
 a solemn promise to hereafter lead a good 
 and virtuous life, and as a member of the 
 Catholic Church to go to church every day, 
 excepting for sickness or other good ex- 
 cuse. That is, they're all Catholics except- 
 ing the "Big Swede" herself. She said 
 she was a member of the Church of Sweden 
 (which corresponds exactly to the Church 
 of England, it seems), and the priest says, 
 "All right," says he, "that'll do — but you 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 107 
 
 must go to church every day if it's open!" 
 
 But there's more still to come — don't 
 think I've told you all, for I haven't, not by 
 a jugful! 
 
 About half past nine the ''Big Swede" 
 commences to throw her money around free 
 as air or water! Every girl in the house 
 got a cheque for a thousand dollars! 
 (Don't think I'm lying — it's true.) 
 
 The "Big Swede" had eight girls in her 
 dance-hall, and there are eight cheques for 
 a thousand dollars each, with all the girls' 
 maiden and married names all on, down at 
 the bank this morning. All cashed in yes- 
 terday afternoon. 
 
 ( Read that clipping I cut out of the Lead- 
 ville Morning Record — I set that type up 
 meself). And nobody employed about the 
 house got less than a hundred. Then soon 
 after half past nine, the carriages began to 
 stop before the house that the "Big Swede" 
 had ordered the middle of the afternoon. 
 And one by one, with their trunks and what 
 
io8 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 little they possessed of this world's goods 
 outside of the thousand-dollar cheque the 
 ''Big Swede" had given them, the dance- 
 hall girls all drove off with their life-part- 
 ners — with screams of laughter from the 
 women and whoops and yells from the men 
 — as if they were on the lark of their lives 
 — (and I guess inost of them were^ if not 
 all of them) . Where they went was kept a 
 secret, of course, under the circumstances, 
 as they were, very naturally, fearful of the 
 Marshal and his posse. Nobody knows 
 where they are now — any of them, and 
 won't, I guess, till it all blows over, at any 
 rate, and maybe not then. Of course no- 
 body believes that the ''Big Swede" (I 
 mean Mrs. Rhinehart) will ever be seen 
 about these diggin's again for the remainder 
 of her days, or Mr. Rhinehart either, for 
 that matter, for they both settled up all 
 their affairs in this region in a hurry, it is 
 said, yesterday afternoon, old Randall buy- 
 ing Mrs. Rhinehart's gold-mine, "Treasure 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 109 
 
 Trove," for a hundred thousand, they say! 
 And when all had left the house except 
 Rhinehart and the '^Big Swede" — (excuse 
 me, Mr. and Mrs. Rhinehart, I mean) ! — 
 the ^'Big Swede" (Mrs. Rhinehart, I 
 mean) ! hustles all over the house with 
 benzine and saturates the carpets in every 
 room with her own fair hands, and then 
 puts the match to the house herself — up- 
 stairs and down — started a fire in every 
 room herself. 
 
 And so, shortly before ten o'clock — 
 which was the witching hour for the raid, 
 you know — Mr. Rhinehart and his wife 
 (the ''Big Swede" that was, but the ''Big 
 Swede" no longer) might have been seen 
 going over the brow of the hill, up the road 
 in their buggy, just as the flames burst forth 
 from all over the house — every door and 
 window was a seething mass of flame, they 
 say, w^hen promptly at ten o'clock the Mar- 
 shal and his posse stood before the house 
 with their crowbars and axes, and armed to 
 
no LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 the teeth, as they had feared they would 
 have a fierce battle before they were 
 through with their work and the "Big 
 Swede" and all her dance-hall girls, and 
 gamblers, etc., and the men found in the 
 house were landed safely behind the bars of 
 the county jail. (For well they knew that 
 a crowd of the husky men of the mines, who 
 are mostly rough and strong fellows, you 
 know — and especially dangerous when on 
 a spree and drinking heavy — were liable to 
 be found inside that house almost any 
 night.) 
 
 ''What in h — 1!" was the Marshal's first 
 exclamation, they say, as he and his posse 
 dashed dramatically upon the scene, 
 promptly at ten o'clock, as I've said, and his 
 posse then gathered around him inquir- 
 ingly, the Marshal and all of them aston- 
 ished and electrified to the last man of them 
 at the sight of the house enveloped in flame, 
 hardly believing their eyes. 
 
 The Marshal and his posse were fol- 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS in 
 
 lowed very shortly to the scene by the fire- 
 engine (and your humble servant along 
 with it — for I was half sick last night and 
 laid off and put a ^'sub." on my ^^case" at 
 the Record Office. So when the fire-bell 
 rang I was out in a jiffy and went with 
 them) who, after they saw what the fire 
 was, and after talking with the ''Big 
 Swede's" old darkey, who acknowledged 
 to them that his mistress had set it on fire 
 herself, and after conferring with the Mar- 
 shal, decided, as the house stood alone and 
 no other property was endangered, to just 
 let it burn. So, then, they all stood around, 
 along with a large crowd which had 
 gathered, watching the conflagration, and 
 stories of the "Big Swede" were on every 
 lip, particularly the last day's strange and 
 startling developments. 
 
 "Is anyone inside there?" inquired the 
 Marshal of the "Big Swede's" faithful old 
 darkey, who was standing by (whom she 
 had instructed, it seems, to stay behind at 
 
112 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 the house, and answer all questions and re- 
 port to her). 
 
 ^'Nary one!" he replied, ''haw, haw! I 
 guess not! eben de cats an' de dogs, an' de 
 parrots an' canaries — dey all is safely out — 
 I saw t' dat, Massa." 
 
 "Why, what's the trouble?" queried the 
 Marshal innocently, "where have they all 
 gone so suddenly — and how did the house 
 catch on fire?" 
 
 "It jus' kina cort fire itself," replied the 
 old colored man, glancing around nerv- 
 ously. 
 
 "Didn't you just tell the Fire Chief a 
 minute ago, that the 'Big Swede' set it 
 on fire with her own hand?" inquired the 
 Marshal severely. 
 
 "Oh, yes, dat's so," acknowledged the 
 darkey then, "so she did — I reckamember 
 dat now — she did." 
 
 "And where did you say they've all 
 gone?" 
 
 "Why, didn't ye see 'em go?" questioned 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 113 
 
 the darkey of the Marshal solemnly — '^dey 
 made 'nuff noise! I'd tink ye'd heerd 'em. 
 It wuz jist a picnic, I heerd 'em say, dey 
 wuz goin' on." 
 
 ^'It's a h — 1 of a strange time to go on a 
 picnic, at this time o' night, that's all I've 
 got to say!" the Marshal responded harshly. 
 
 At this moment Judge Coulter walked 
 up. ''Hello, Marshal," cried he face- 
 tiously, ''where are you going — hunting? — 
 with your guns and your crowbars and 
 axes, and all that?" 
 
 "Sure!" retorted the Marshal grimly, 
 never cracking a smile. 
 
 "It's a h — 1 of a strange time to start on 
 a hunting trip, at this time o' night," said 
 the Judge, smiling quizzically, as he re- 
 peated, imitating the Marshal's voice and 
 gestures, the gist of the remark the Mar- 
 shal had just made to the old darkey 
 a moment before, which he had caught as 
 he came up. 
 
 "Well, you ought to know. Judge," re- 
 
114 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 turned the Marshal, a little curtly, though 
 forcing a slight smile, ^'It's up to you, then, 
 it seems to me, for you set the hour yourself, 
 you know." 
 
 ''Well, what are you fooling around here 
 for now, Marshal," pursued the Judge quite 
 seriously, though still with his quizzical 
 smile, ''there's nothing to do now, either 
 for you or for me, and won't be — this in- 
 cident is closed." And as he ceased his re- 
 marks, the quizzical smile left the Judge's 
 face and he looked as serious as he ever 
 looked in his life, even when upon the 
 Bench. For Judge Coulter knew perfectly 
 well what he was talking about, it seems, 
 to his sorrow, for his only son, Winston, 
 they say, has married and gone off with 
 pretty Louise, the French girl, — one of the 
 "Big Swede's" dance-hall girls — and be- 
 fore leaving home, they say, the young fel- 
 low left a note for his father, detailing the 
 whole strange story; so the Judge had in- 
 side information, you see. But the Mar- 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 115 
 
 shal didn't know very much about the mat- 
 ter just then, so he retorted: 
 
 ^'How so? I may ketch 'em yet — I've got 
 my warrants for 'em, haven't I?" 
 
 ^'Yes," returned the Judge tartly, ''you've 
 got your warrants all right, I suppose, such 
 as they are — but your warrants are no good 
 now, it happens! Those people that are 
 named on your warrants don't exist any 
 more — most of them ! There's not a woman 
 who lived in that dance-hall that has the 
 same name now that she had yesterday! 
 Haven't you heard? — you're dead-slow, 
 Marshal, you are!" 
 
 The Marshal drew back and surveyed 
 the Judge w^ith incredulity and amazement. 
 
 An inspiration seemed to come to the old 
 darkey at this moment, and he spoke up 
 with, "Anyhow, Mr. Marshal, whut kin 
 yu expec' of peoples whut's jist gotted mar- 
 ried? — don't dey alius carry on queer?" 
 
 ''Married!" cried the Marshal, "you 
 crazy nigger, what d' ye' mean? — I sup- 
 
ii6 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 pose you'll be tellin' us next that the whole 
 kit an' crew o' the women in this here 
 dance-hall, the ^Big Swede' and all — have 
 got married and gone off on their wedding 
 trips, eh?" 
 
 'Well, dey has— jist dat!" replied the 
 old darkey, adding triumphantly, ^'ef ye 
 doan' want t' b'leeve me, go an' ask de 
 Catolick priest whut married 'em — down 
 in dat house dere!" and he pointed very 
 proudly and majestically down to the little 
 rectory of the near-by Catholic Church, 
 that had certainly seen strange sights and 
 doings not very far in the past. 
 
 ''You can't bluff me off that w^ay, nig- 
 ger!" retorted the Marshal who, as you 
 have noticed, perhaps, Pete, wasn't in the 
 best of humor at the failure of all his well- 
 laid plans for that evening. 
 
 "He's telling you the truth, Marshal," 
 spoke up the Judge quietly, at this juncture, 
 and then hurried away, as if not wishing to 
 be questioned further. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 117 
 
 'Tes, he is, like h— I!" cried the Mar- 
 shal, in a loud and angry voice, ^'whoever 
 heard of such a thing! — It can't be! The 
 Judge must be drunk or crazy to-night," 
 he added to his posse, ''to say such a thing 
 as that!" 
 
 There was an outcry from the crowd at 
 this moment as some of the timbers of the 
 burning building came crashing down, 
 throwing up a cloud of sparks, and the 
 Marshal turned round and watched the 
 fire. 
 
 I had been standing some distance away 
 when the Marshal spoke, but hearing his 
 loud and angry tones, I had come over and 
 mixed among the posse to see what the 
 trouble was. 
 
 'The Marshal is a tenderfoot, like you. 
 Bob (begging your pardon), and don't 
 know it all," I heard old Zeke Jones, one 
 of the posse, say to another one of 'em, at 
 this juncture, sotto voce — "he does not know 
 what Judge Coulter knows and / know, 
 
ii8 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 and all the old-timers in town know. (I 
 speak of the days when almost anything in 
 the form of a woman was a welcome sight 
 to the old town, filled as it was so nearly 
 exclusively with men.") 
 
 ''An' it ain't much better in that respect 
 now," responded another man, ''every 
 woman in town now is married, so far as 
 I know," says he; "so I don't blame the 
 boys so much," says he. 
 
 "Come along now, nigger!" cried the 
 Marshal at this moment, grabbing the old 
 colored man by the arm as he spoke, "you 
 can't bluff me like that, I say!" And then 
 the Marshal with the old darkey, and all 
 the posse, and almost the whole crowd, in- 
 cluding your humble servant, all descended 
 the hill together in hot haste, and in a few 
 moments we all stood in a crowd around 
 the priest's house, and the Marshal, still 
 holding on to the old darkey, went up on 
 the porch and rang the bell. 
 
 Well, Father Farr answered the ring of 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 119 
 
 the door-bell himself at once — (very likely 
 he was looking out the window at the time, 
 and saw us coming) — and gladly verified 
 with several added details, all the facts and 
 circumstances practically as IVe related 
 them. And you never saw such a dumb- 
 founded Marshal and posse in all your life, 
 Pete! They simply couldn't believe it, 
 and yet they had to — for the old priest ab- 
 solutely asserted, in so many words — and 
 the whole crowd heard him, including 
 meself — that he'd married the whole kit 
 and crew of those women in the ''Big 
 Swede's" dance-hall himself — the ''Big 
 Swede" and all — and that they were all now 
 married women! 
 
 "Holy smoke!" was all the Marshal 
 could find breath to ejaculate as he bid a 
 polite good-night to Father Farr, releas- 
 ing the old darkey's arm at the same mo- 
 ment, who promptly, and with the proud 
 step of vindicated innocence, trudged up 
 the hill again to the burning house, while 
 
120 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 most of the crowd, including myself, fol- 
 lowed the Marshal and his posse back into 
 town. 
 
 And here's a good story I must tell you, 
 Pete, before I close. It comes through 
 Winston Coulter, the Judge's son, who mar- 
 ried pretty Louise, the French girl, you 
 know, as I told you, so it's straight goods. 
 One of our reporters got it from the Judge, 
 whom he interviewed, but he promised the 
 Judge not to publish it. It was in the let- 
 ter Winston wrote his father before his de- 
 parture. 
 
 It seems that before the "Big Swede" 
 (that was), Mrs. Rhinehart, that is, gave 
 the thousand-dollar cheques to the girls, she 
 called them all together in the parlor and 
 made them a little speech. 
 
 "Girls," says she, 'Tm going to give 
 each of you a cheque for a thousand dol- 
 lars." 
 
 "Oh, ain't you a dear!" cried pretty 
 Louise, who was standing nearest, before 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 121 
 
 she could say any more, throwing her arms 
 around the ''Big Swede's" neck and kissing 
 her over and over again; and some of the 
 girls screamed for joy, as women will, and, 
 like women do, some threw their arms 
 around each other and kissed each other, 
 and one or two fainted for joy, I believe. 
 
 ''And I'll tell you what I want you to do, 
 girls," the "Big Swede" continued, as soon 
 as she could make herself heard in the hub- 
 bub, "but let me speak first about myself. 
 I want to say, first of all, girls, that I don't 
 bear the Law and Order League any ill- 
 will in this matter at all, and I don't want 
 any of you to feel so, or say a word against 
 them. They are all right, girls, and — and 
 — " (her voice choked up a bit here, they 
 say, from her emotion, her breast heaved, 
 and she was otherwise visibly moved) 
 "we're the ones who are — who are — 
 wrong — that is, I mean who were wrong." 
 She mastered her emotion with a strong 
 effort and went on: 
 
122 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 "But yet, I think, my girls, I am not 
 going beyond my rights — even my legal 
 rights — in taking this step to-night," says 
 she. "For to the Marshal and his posse I 
 am still the 'Big Swede' "— 
 
 "But you're my wife, now!" sang out 
 Rhinehart, who, with some of the other 
 men, was peeping in the door, it seems. 
 
 (Mrs. Rhinehart had strictly enjoined on 
 her new-made husband and the rest of the 
 men, that they must wait out in the hall till 
 her last good-bye meeting with her girls 
 was over.) 
 
 "An' if that pesky Marshal or any o' his 
 pesky posse dare to lay a hand on my wife," 
 continues Rhinehart, fiercely, "if he don't 
 remove his paws mighty quick when I give 
 'im the password, 'hands off, scoundrel!' 
 I'll open up on 'im with both six-shooters 
 at once! — I will, s'help me — " 
 
 "It's all right, George," interrupted Mrs. 
 Rhinehart gently, "now, be good, George, 
 and leave us alone, please, as you promised. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 123 
 
 I'll be with you in a very few minutes, 
 dear!" 
 
 Mr. Rhinehart's head disappeared. 
 "Let's dance a jig together, boys," cried he 
 gaily to the other men, 'Vhile we're wait- 
 ing for the ladies! Play us a jig. Sambo!" 
 And in a moment the fiddle squeaked a gay 
 tune and the men were all having a jolly 
 stag-dance together in the hall. 
 
 "But Mrs. Rhinehart has some rights 
 that the 'Big Swede' didn't have," she went 
 on seriously, "and so with you, my girls, 
 thank God! You, too, God has been very 
 merciful and good to, also! You, too, have 
 rights now as married women," says she, 
 "that you did not have before. So I think 
 that you and I are well within our rights," 
 says she, "in making good our escape to- 
 night from the Marshal and his vile prison! 
 faugh!" (with a flash of her blue eyes and 
 a gesture of disgust). 
 
 "The Marshal can't lick me nohow! 
 Nol-howT yelled Rhinehart, peeping in 
 
124 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 the door again. ''I can lick the Marshal 
 with one hand!" he went on. He had been 
 imbibing rather freely to celebrate the day, 
 I guess, no less than some of his compan- 
 ions among the new-made Benedicts. "I 
 can lick 'im with one hand tied behind 
 mel— I"— 
 
 ''No, you mustn't, George!" cried Mrs. 
 Rhinehart softly. ''George, dear, you 
 mustn't talk so, either — I won't have it, 
 dear!" 
 
 "Oh, I mustn't, eh?" half fiercely, then 
 at once breaking into a broad smile, "All 
 right, my dear. If you say I mustn't, I 
 mustn't — I won't do it any more. Any- 
 thing to please the ladies," and he tiptoed 
 into the room and kissed his wife, and then 
 quickly tiptoed out again. Mrs. Rhine- 
 hart smiled happily for a moment, and then 
 continued gravely her address to the girls. 
 
 "And I was not joking, girls, when I told 
 you I was going to burn this house down to 
 the ground to-night! — just as soon as we 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 125 
 
 can conveniently get out of it! I have 
 sworn to do it! By the time the Marshal 
 gets here, we shall all be out and this house 
 will be a mass of flame! And with the de- 
 struction of this house," she says, passion- 
 ately, flinging up her arms, her hands 
 clenched, ''that woman that I have been — 
 that woman known in Leadville as the 'Big 
 Swede' — dies with the house 1'^ 
 
 (Here there were sundry shrieks from 
 the assembled girls, it seems.) 
 
 ^'Oh, don't be afraid — I'm not going to 
 commit suicide," she made haste to add 
 more calmly, "no, not that — though if it 
 hadn't been for Mr. Rhinehart, girls, I'm 
 very much afraid I should have done so. 
 But now it is different." 
 
 By this time the men had ceased their 
 dancing and noisy antics in the hall, and 
 there was dead silence, and Mr. Rhinehart 
 and some of the other men were peeping 
 in the door again. 
 
 "As Mrs. Rhinehart," says she solemnly, 
 
126 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 and very deeply moved, '^I am going to be 
 good, girls!" 
 
 (And here a great sob choked her for a 
 few moments.) 
 
 ^^I am going to keep my promise to the 
 old priest religiously!" she says fervently, 
 after a pause. ''And, girls," (with a sup- 
 pressed sob, and catching her breath) "I 
 want you all to do the same! I want you 
 all to be good, too! — " 
 
 (And here the tears commenced to trickle 
 down her cheeks and she took out her hand- 
 kerchief and wiped them away, and dried 
 her eyes; but they kept on trickling, and 
 then she just put down her handkerchief 
 and let them flow.) 
 
 'We've got the chance to be good now," 
 says she, "God has given us another 
 chance! — and the hell we'll go to now when 
 we die will be nothing," says she, "to what 
 we'll go to if we let go of God's hand and 
 wander away from Him again! So the 
 old priest said, and I believe him! And 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 127 
 
 as I promised him, so did you! and he said, 
 you know, he wouldn't marry us without! 
 And I want you all to keep your promise, 
 too, just as religiously as I am going to 
 keep mine, with God's help!" 
 
 (Here she broke down at last completely, 
 and sobbed loudly, and covered her face 
 with her hands for a moment — and pretty 
 Louise, the French girl, sobbed in sym- 
 pathy, and then rushing forward again to 
 Mrs. Rhinehart, threw her arms around 
 her again, in a tempest of tears, and they 
 sobbed in each other's arms for some mo- 
 ments; and then all the other women in 
 the room seemed to join in, they say; and 
 even the men out in the hall were most of 
 them crying too, they say, by this time, Mr. 
 Rhinehart leading the bunch. The "Big 
 Swede" had them all crying, so the story 
 goes, when she burst out crying, saying "she 
 was going to be good, and that they must 
 all be good, too!" 
 
 (I believe myself, Pete, that if Rhine- 
 
128 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 hart had failed to show up when she sent 
 for him in her trouble, she would have com- 
 mitted suicide and actually died with the 
 house as she said. It would have been just 
 like her.) 
 
 Then at the last she had all the girls 
 come up, one by one, and she gave each girl 
 her cheque and kissed each girl good-bye, 
 and then the carriages commenced to stop 
 at the door for the newly married couples, 
 as IVe told you. 
 
 And not more than half an hour after 
 that, when the Marshal and his posse ar- 
 rived on the scene, the house was a mass of 
 flame, as she said it would be, and as IVe 
 told you before. 
 
 By Jiminy! Pete — they can say what they 
 like, but I believe those fellows got the 
 tip somehow, and knew it d — n well all 
 along that each girl was going to get a 
 thousand dollars, or they wouldn't have 
 been so d — n quick to marry them! Don't 
 you think so, yourself? Why, by Jim! 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 129 
 
 some of them couldn't have done it, Pete, 
 if they had wanted to ever so much, I don't 
 believe — I have my d — n doubts that more 
 than one or two of them had the "spon- 
 dulix" of their own to get married on and 
 take a wedding trip. But the thousand- 
 dollar cheque made it all possible you see, 
 Pete, and they caught the fever from Rhine- 
 hart, I suppose, who's a dev'lish fine-look- 
 ing man, as I've told you, and a rich man 
 at that, so they say. So they followed suit 
 on his lead, and the ''Big Swede's" whole 
 bunch of dance-hall gossamer went ofif like 
 hot cakes, and gave Leadville the biggest 
 sensation she ever had, I guess! and there 
 won't never be another one to equal it, I 
 don't believe! 
 
 Now, what do you think of that for a 
 piece of news, Pete? Ain't it a corker? 
 You bet your boots! But there's a little 
 more besides that I almost forgot — there's 
 fifty thousand dollars in the Rocky Moun- 
 tain Bank of Leadville, in Madeline 
 
I30 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 Brown's name, and subject to her will and 
 pleasure now at any time, so the bank 
 people say in a little advertisement in all 
 the morning papers, a copy of which IVe 
 sent you. 
 Well, I guess that's all, Pete, Good-bye! 
 Yours truly. 
 
 Jack Lafarge. 
 
 P. S. But I find another reporter's note 
 in my pocket, that I got hold of, which we 
 are going to publish in the Record, to-mor- 
 row, I think. 
 
 To the priest who married them, Mr. 
 and Mrs. Rhinehart said Madeline Brown 
 was their daughter, and they've had a 
 lawyer draw up a legal paper to that effect, 
 (which the lawyer is to get to Madeline) 
 and which reads as follows, (according to 
 one of our reporters who interviewed the 
 lawyer) : 
 
 ^'Mr. and Mrs. Rhinehart do now 
 solemnly acknowledge and affirm, that one 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 131 
 
 Madeline ^Brown' so-called — is, actually 
 and truly, their bona-fide and legal be- 
 loved child and daughter, by a run-away 
 marriage years ago, and that her true and 
 legal name is Madeline Rhinehart; and 
 that should said Madeline Rhinehart now, 
 or at any future time, ever so desire, she 
 will be sure of a daughter's welcome, and 
 to share in all and every her said rights as 
 our said beloved legal child and daughter. 
 And said Madeline Rhinehart can come 
 into communication with us now, or at any 
 future time, by calling upon or addressing: 
 ^Rev. Father Farr, Leadville, Colorado.' 
 (Signed) 
 ''Mr. and Mrs. G. Harry Rhinehart.'' 
 
 And Rhinehart, our reporter says, de- 
 livered himself further to this lawyer, in 
 answer to a question, of the following very 
 significant remark: ''What! that d — d 
 and perjured scoundrel!" (referring, the 
 lawyer says, to the man who, it seems, 
 broke off his engagement to marry the 
 
132 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 ''Big Swede" (Mrs. Rhinehart, I mean 
 after her father had lost his fortune 
 down in Denver years ago,) "No, Never! 
 And I want to undo a great wrong as far 
 as I can, do ye see? So I've married my 
 wife over again, and I want you to make 
 Madeline and the w^hole world acquainted 
 with the fact that she is our legal daughter, 
 so that she can be perfectly free to come 
 and live with us if she wants to, or write 
 to us for help, or money, or anything, you 
 know." 
 
 So her right name's Madeline Rhinehart 
 now, you see ; and always was, according to 
 Rhinehart's statement. 
 
 J. L. 
 
 '^Had I felt like doubting Lafarge's let- 
 ter, the newspaper clippings enclosed were 
 verification complete of all that he had 
 written. I skimmed over the letter and 
 clippings as hastily as I could, taking a 
 mouthful of dinner now and then. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 133 
 
 '' 'You better eat your dinner, Pastorius,' 
 said Mr. Brown, 'is that letter from your 
 girl?' 
 
 "I smiled but said nothing, and as soon 
 as I got a chance turned to Lord Glenden- 
 ning, and said in a low voice: 'Mr. Glen- 
 denning, I want you to read this letter of 
 Lafarge's — skim over it, right away, it will 
 interest you.' 
 
 " 'I'll read it to-night,' he said, 'when we 
 get done our work.' 
 
 " 'No,' I insisted earnestly, 'I wish you 
 would read it now — right away, Mr. Glen- 
 denning.' 
 
 "He gave a little start and looked at me 
 very much surprised. 
 
 " 'I know you ought to, you see, Mr. 
 Glendenning — it is very important that you 
 should, I think, and so I won't let you off. 
 Read it now, please. Take my word for it, 
 you will not regret it.' 
 
 "He saw that I was intensely in earnest, 
 — though he could not understand it, of 
 
134 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 course, — so he took the bulky envelope 
 from my extended hand at once. 
 
 ^' 'I make you a present of it, Mr. Glen- 
 denning, newspaper clippings and all,' said 
 I — Vhat you don't like you can burn up. 
 I think Lafarge would have wTitten to you 
 instead of to me, anyhow, had he dared. 
 It concerns you more than me — it concerns 
 Madeline and you more than anybody else. 
 Lafarge never wrote to me in his life be- 
 fore, and he told me to show the letter to 
 you — he wants you to know, that's it — I'm 
 just the ^'go-between" you see. So take it 
 and keep it and welcome.' 
 
 "'Thank you!' replied he, in a mystified 
 way, 'and please thank Lafarge for me 
 when you see him, for the favor.' 
 
 "He was reading the letter by this time. 
 Of course, almost from the first words, his 
 interest was intense, and he fairly flew over 
 it to the end. 
 
 "When he had ended there was no one 
 in the room but Madeline, himself and me. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 135 
 
 the rest of the family-circle were on the 
 cool porch taking their noon siesta, and 
 Madeline was clearing off the table. 
 
 '' 'Most remarkable! Most remarkable!' 
 he ejaculated, glancing first at one and then 
 another of the newspaper clippings, as he 
 spoke, 'I may keep the letter and all, you 
 say? I want to show it to Madeline.' 
 
 " 'Yes, certainly, that's what I said,' I 
 returned, 'it is yours — do what you please 
 with it. Excuse me. I will leave you to- 
 gether — I will go out and take a snooze on 
 the grass under the trees.' 
 
 "So while the rest of the household were 
 taking their noon-hour siesta outside. Lord 
 Glendenning and Madeline were having 
 the confab of their lives over the contents 
 of Lafarge's letter. And as the rest of us 
 started out for the wheat-field again, and 
 Mr. Brown, Sr., re-entered the house, some- 
 thing like this, I gathered afterwards, took 
 place: 
 
 " 'Mr. Brown,' said Lord Glendenning, 
 
136 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 'Madeline has consented at last to be my 
 wife.' 
 
 '^ Well, I swan!' ejaculated Mrs. Brown 
 from the next room. 
 
 ''Miss Brown, who was with her mother, 
 gave a little scream. 'If I ever!' she 
 articulated faintly, sinking into a chair. 
 
 " 'Ain't this here rather sudden?' in- 
 quired Mr. Brow^n, as soon as he could get 
 breath to speak at all — he was well-nigh 
 speechless. 
 
 " 'No, I don't think so,' replied Lord 
 Glendenning, who was evidently laboring 
 under considerable excitement himself. 
 Then he went on hurriedly, 'and we have 
 decided, if you and Mrs. Brown will kindly 
 give us your permission and your blessing, 
 that we will both pack our trunks forthwith 
 and go up on the evening train to Leadville, 
 get married at once, and then go to my 
 Leadville lodgings or to a hotel for the 
 night, and in the morning start off on our 
 wedding-trip.' 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 137 
 
 ^' Where are you going on your wed- 
 ding-trip — and where will you live?' in- 
 quired the old man, dumbfounded, and his 
 wife and daughter here came into the room, 
 and gazed in speechless amazement at the 
 young Englishman and Madeline, as the 
 hopeful young couple stood there in the 
 middle of the room together, Lord Archie's 
 protecting arm about pretty Madeline's 
 waist. 
 
 ^' 'Oh, we will go straight to London, 
 England, my home, just as soon as we are 
 married, and live there,' returned the 
 young man smiling. 
 
 '^ 'Now for our trunks at once, darling!' 
 he added to Madeline. 'We shall have to 
 hurry to catch that train.' And they both 
 hastened out of the room and upstairs. 
 
 '' 'Say, darling, what are you going to 
 do with your fifty thousand dollars?' in- 
 quired Lord Archie of Madeline, as they 
 were packing their trunks together, while 
 young Mr. Brown, John and myself were 
 
138 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 toiling away in the hot harvest-field. 
 
 '^ ^That money F exclaimed Madeline 
 passionately, looking at him horrified and 
 all in a tremble of excitement at once, 'I 
 won't touch a penny of it! Don't you be- 
 lieve I will, Archie Glendenning! I tell 
 you I won't touch a penny of it!' and the 
 agitated girl covered her horrified face 
 with her hands and burst into tears. 
 
 " 'Never mind, Madeline dear!' returned 
 Lord Archie gently, and quickly going up 
 to her, took her in his arms, and stroked 
 her hair tenderly, and kissed her quivering 
 lips. 'You don't have to, if you don't ivant 
 to, sweet, I have enough without. And I 
 love you all the better, darling, because you 
 feel that way about it! We'll give it to 
 some church, sweetheart, or anything you 
 like!' 
 
 "(And not many years after this conver- 
 sation between Lord Glendenning and 
 Madeline, the passer by that old lot on the 
 hillside, on the outskirts of Leadville, 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 139 
 
 where the 'Big Swede's' dance-hall had once 
 stood, might have noticed quite a pre- 
 tentious building which stood thereon, the 
 sign upon which read: 'The Madeline 
 Brown Mission.') 
 
 "In conclusion let me say, that after Lord 
 Glendenning and Madeline were married 
 — (which happy event was accomplished 
 very quietly by them on account of the 
 great notoriety into which they were thrown 
 by the sensational developments I have re- 
 lated — the marriage taking place as soon 
 as they arrived in Leadville on the evening 
 train from City of the night in ques- 
 tion, at the Episcopal Church of the Holy 
 Name, of which the young Englishman w^as 
 a member, and the young English Curate 
 of which was an intimate personal friend 
 of his whom he had known in England — 
 the marriage being witnessed only by the 
 ladies of the Rectory) — the happy couple 
 repaired for the night to the groom's old 
 bachelor lodgings, and after spending most 
 
I40 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 of the night in hurried preparations for de- 
 parture on the morrow, they boarded, early 
 in the morning, one of the fast transcon- 
 tinental ^flyers', on which they speeded out 
 of Leadville forever as they ate their break- 
 fast, headed straight for London, England, 
 their cabins on one of the great Cunard 
 ocean-line steamships from New York all 
 engaged. 
 
 'When they arrived in London, I might 
 add, he introduced his beautiful wife to his 
 mother and sisters, and it is needless to say 
 they were all delighted with her, and no- 
 body is more highly esteemed in London 
 to-day, in the aristocratic circles in which 
 they move, than beautiful Madeline, Lady 
 Glendenning, and she lives very happily, I 
 have been told, in a handsome house in 
 Sandringham Terrace, the pride and best- 
 beloved still of her husband, and much be- 
 loved also by the poor and unfortunate, to 
 whom she is very kind." 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 141 
 
 ''Oh, well, why stop?" cried Cap., ''go 
 on, Pete, go on!" And Johnson and Mug- 
 gins both insisted in chorus that Pete 
 "keep it up" — they "weren't a bit tired." 
 
 "Keep a-goin'," cried Johnson, "keep a- 
 goin'!" 
 
 "Yes, keep the ball a-rollin', Pete!" cried 
 Muggins. 
 
 "But that's the end of the story," de- 
 clared Pete, puffing away on his pipe. 
 
CHAPTER III 
 
 WHICH DETAILS THE DOINGS OF THE THIRD 
 NIGHT, WHICH, BECAUSE IT IS SUNDAY, THEY 
 DEVOTE TO LETTER- WRITING, AND NO STORIES 
 ARE TOLD. 
 
 ''This is Sunday night, boys," said Cap. 
 reflectively to his companions, as they were 
 all sitting as usual in the evening around 
 the little table, with the jug and glasses, 
 pipes and tobacco in the center of it, ''and 
 we haven't done a cussed thing different 
 (excuse me, gentlemen) I mean, a 'blessed' 
 thing different from w^hat we always do 
 every other day. Johnson took his gun 
 and started out hunting, as usual, just as 
 innocent." 
 
 "I'll be doggoned ef I knew 'twas Sun- 
 day!" put in Johnson. 
 
 "Of course not! who said you did?" re- 
 plied Cap., "I didn't myself. And Mug- 
 142 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 143 
 
 gins also started out hunting, in another 
 direction." 
 
 "I'll take my oath, I didn't know it was 
 Sunday!" asserted Muggins. 
 
 ''Of course not! — And Pete went fishing 
 as usual," continued Cap. quizzically, ''and 
 caught a rather unusually big mess of trout 
 I thought I heard him say." 
 
 "I'll have to own up too," cried Pete, 
 "that I never once thought of it's being 
 Sunday!" 
 
 "Of course not, of course not! — Johnson, 
 did you shoot anything?" he inquired, 
 turning to the old hunter abruptly. 
 
 "Ye say ye saw me start out with me 
 gun," replied Johnson sententiously. 
 
 "Ah, I understand," said Cap., smiling 
 good-humoredly, "excuse the innuendo, 
 Johnson. Now with Muggins it is some- 
 what different. Muggins, I'll bet fifty dol- 
 lars you didn't shoot a thing!" 
 
 "Take him up Muggins! — By Jim, he's 
 got you there. Cap!" cried Pete, "he shot 
 
144 LOG-CABIN YARNS 
 
 a rabbit! — didn't you see it hanging outside 
 on the cabin when you came in?" 
 
 'Tou bet I'll take him up! You hold 
 the stakes, Pete, till I prove up!" He took 
 out his cheque-book and commenced writ- 
 ing. 
 
 ^Tll take it all back!" cried Cap. laugh- 
 ing heartily, ^'I never bet on Sunday night!" 
 
 They all had a good laugh at that. 'Til 
 remember that next time," cried Muggins, 
 ''but I'll bet you won't. Cap. !— (It beats all 
 how virtuous Cap. is gettin' t' be nowa- 
 days," he continued in a stage-whisper to 
 Johnson, ''he don't bet on Sunday night, 
 just think o' that!") 
 
 "What I started out to say was," said 
 Cap. soberly, "that, as it is Sunday night, 
 I suggest that we have a different program 
 to-night. I suggest that we all write letters 
 home to our wives. And Pete can write to 
 his sweetheart." 
 
 "I'll write to my mother," said Pete 
 simply. 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 145 
 
 And then, like four souls with but a 
 single thought, the four men, without any 
 more words whatever, hunted up pen, ink 
 and paper, and soon were all silently 
 scratching away around the table as though 
 their lives depended upon it. 
 
CHAPTER IV 
 
 CONCLUSION 
 
 The next morning Pete took a horse and 
 rode down to Lyons to post the letters and 
 get the mail, and he brought back a letter 
 for Cap. which ended Cap.'s hunting and 
 fishing trip in a hurry. 
 
 His wife was sick and begged him to 
 come home at once. 
 
 "But you fellows must stay your time 
 out," he said to Muggins and Johnson, 
 "don't mind me!" 
 
 But they both insisted that it was impos- 
 sible. If one went they must all go, they 
 both agreed. 
 
 So the three men waited no longer than 
 
 to get out in the woods, piloted by Johnson, 
 
 and secure each his promised deer, which 
 
 the old hunter had carefully hung up each 
 146 
 
LOG-CABIN YARNS 147 
 
 in a tree near where he had shot it, to be 
 safe from wild animals. Then the caval- 
 cade of three horsemen, each horse carry- 
 ing a deer besides, struck the trail for 
 Longmont, and Pete was alone again. 
 
 FINIS 
 

 i OCT 7 1925 
 
 VfV 
 
 '355 LU 
 
. ^>:cf;tVB||^nB^HB^^'^ceie»' 
 
 ^^^'^'T^ 
 
 sysygo 
 
 \ 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY