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was a suspicion of moisture in the old gentleman's eyes, as he fixed his mournful gaze on Baker, the only bachelor in the group, who therefore felt relatively uncomfortable, as unrighteously posing, however innocently, as the father of one of the impressionable sex. With the exception of Baker, not a man in the crew but was nearer the lover than the father period. Indeed, Billy at once hardened, as he turned his gaze out toward the horizon. Somewhere over there was a big ranch and a loving girl, and an obdurate father, who had contrived to get tangled up in his destiny, to his undoing.

"The only thing I can think of, sir," said Baker, sympathetically, "is to walk along with us over to Curry's ranch and git a horse. You can ride to Sterling

They all said they were sorry. And they sighed. But the glint in their eyes and a certain catch in the sigh, were not particularly expressive of sorrow. And they all looked in the direction the pack had disappeared.

"Well, I must be movin' if I want to save payin' that twelve hundred dollars that I haven't got and never had," observed Baker, running his fingers through his hair, and settling his cap on his head as if he expected to encounter any number of breezes. "Comin' along, Kearns ?"

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Don't care 'f I do. Billy here won't go to no ranch since Beck's held a shotgun at him," humorously. "So I guess he'll stay and hold the ingine down. Jeffs, I guess you'll come?" The conductor

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grinned.
grinned. "You, Mr. Rathbun?"

The passenger took a step forward, hesitated, then, with a muttered explosion that sounded decidedly profane, turned on his heel and sought the shelter of the car from the hot sun.

The others started off toward the Curry ranch, breaking into the loping walk of the Western ranchman when they were well away from the track. The hounds and their quarry were long ago out of sight, "goin' due south for the Gulf of Mexico, if they don't stop over in Denver," Baker observed gloomily.

"Swim, Baker?" Jeffs inquired. The messenger shook his head. "Then they'll sure get away from you.

Maybe cross to Panama. But you kin get there by railroad, can't you?" Jeffs finished in a shout of laughter.

But they seemed to have other food for amusement, for every now and again one would break out into a shout of mirth brought to a sudden period by a thump on the back from Baker, and an admonition that they were not out of sight of the cars yet, "no, nor hearin', neither," in that hot, solemn air.

It was four o'clock before, turning a spur of the mountain, they reached the Curry ranch, where, after a brief explanation, they obtained three horses and set out on a smart gallop over the mesa on the track of the pack, taking a good bird dog and a Curry hopeful with them. In about an hour they came up with an abandoned camp under some trees by a little brook in the side of the canyon. Here were the hounds-one, full of good mountain water and venison, already fast asleep; the two others still lazily nibbling some bones. What execution they had done to the pack was not evident, but they seemed nothing loth to accompany Baker back, though their leash was in shreds. They trotted amiably after the group of horses (though the Curry hopeful had to lift the bird dog to his saddle, the hounds presently disagreeing with him as to some technical point in coyote hunting, doubtless,) to the ranch, where was a small blacksmith shop. There went the engineer, while the others secured lunch for the party, to be eaten en route out of courtesy for Mr. Rathbun, who now seemed to inspire their pity.

Shouts of laughter came from the smithy, and Kearns had to be called several times before the party set off again for the train, all eating voraciously, and the Curry hopeful entertaining with songs and jokes, for the sun was slanting, and it was a bit cooler. As they came in sight of the track, Baker took out his watch and observed: "Shucks! 7 p. m. We'll sure be too late for the wedding. Get up there."

There was a shout of mirth, the hopeful's loudest of all. Everybody clucked to his horse, and they came up to the train on a quick gallop. Mr. Rathbun

looked out and saw his hounds bundled into the baggage car, and then drew in again and sat and sulked as he listened to the strident sounds of hammering iron, and the good-byes as the hopeful set off for the ranch with the horses. Billy, unsocial from disappointed love, had crawled into the baggage car and taken a long nap, and the fires were practically out, which required a requisition on the pile of ties at the roadside for fuel. Still, in a marvelously short space of time, all considered, the train threw off its lethargy and spun across the mesa into the red sunset, while the conductor sat in the baggage car and made up his report. They would only be five hours late, which was nothing in Western experience. Leading expresses came into Denver every day as late or later.

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Two days later, as the Cheyenne special pulled in at the usual 8 a. m., and Baker jumped from the baggage car, a silverbanded sombrero popped up from where in particular, and a grinning youth greeted him cordially: cordially: "How's Pop? The wire says the weddin' was on time and no relatives present. I've been over to Curry's-ha-ha!" Baker faintly smiled and ran his fingers through his hair.

Say,

Sunday following, as he joined his car at Holdredge, he handed each of the crew a package with a brief, "Didn't forgit none of us." And "after things were going," the conductor in the baggage car with Baker, and Billy in the cab with Kearns, each opened his package, and found therein a box tied with white satin ribbon containing a big piece of wedding. cake and a fifty dollar gold piece.

It was a year later that Baker ran into Mr. Rathbun on an entirely different run down to Denver. Before he knew him, the old gentleman shook his fist under his nose, crying: "I know you, and I know your plot, and the part you made my hounds play at Cheyenne last year. damn you! If that scalawag hadn't turned out passable, and they hadn't named the baby after me, don't you think you'd be up at Canyon City for conspiracy or something!" But his eves twinkled, and he gave Baker a choice Havana.

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Work of Woman's Relief Committee

of Butte for San Francisco

By Helen Fitzgerald Sanders

HE news of the terrible earth

T quake, supplemented by

the

alarum, "San Francisco is burning!" beat through my head, a pulse of horror. All over-wrought with excitement and grief, I fled to my little sanctum, and there in the sweet silence, I sat down and began to write some lines. Then it struck my sense of the ridiculous this making of rhymes when a city was threatened with destruction and a multitude of people-aye, and not strangers, but mine Own people were homeless in the ruined streets. must help them materially. I would go and beg and send my offering to them. In half an hour I was out, formulating plans as I walked. I would get women to join me, and we would form ourselves into what I spontaneously called a relief corps. From house to house I darted, interesting a worker here, stopping some

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friend on the sidewalk, hailing another there, and urging all to come and help in the name of Humanity.

Before noon I had a treasurer of ability and enthusiasm; I had visited schools, stores and enlisted other aid; the whole afternoon I spent with one of my newly-found helpers canvassing the shops. We asked for anything; a nickel was as welcome as a five dollar gold piece. Our object was to collect small contributions from women, children, clerks and poor people who might hesitate to give their mite and have it proclaimed upon the public city list, when, perhaps, John Doe's name, just above, was coupled with three fat numerals.

I have often wondered how beggars feel who go about soliciting alms, and that afternoon I found out. Nothing short of devotion to San Francisco and a compelling desire to do my little to

alleviate the misery of her children could ever had made me walk up to strange men and beg. As a rule they were kind, polite and generous, but one austere, gray-haired person waived us out with a frigid refusal, and another heavy, oxeyed boy said in reply to our request: "Well, I figure it out this way. It keeps me hustlin' to earn my own living."

We answered that we wanted no unwilling pennies, and passed on. These were the only two instances of stinginess, and they were more than off-set by three examples of conspicuous generosity. One of these was a little girl who denied herself her pocket-money, and after two weeks of saving sent us fifty centsher all. The second was a servant girl who contributed four dollars out of her month's earnings, besides having given five dollars to another fund for the same purpose. The third was the cashier in one of the big down-town stores, who sits, pale-faced but cheerful at her little window, telling our change from early morning until night. She beckoned to me as I stood before the counter and pressed into my hand a silver dollar.

"I wish it was more," she said, "but it's all I can spare. I sit here every day to support myself and five little children."

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"It will buy ten loaves of bread," answered, and certainly it seemed a greater sum to me than the one hundred dollar bill given by one of the rich men of the town.

The kindly press took up the matter of our labors, and the next morning there were notices of the prompt action of the Women's Relief Corps. I was reading them with a warm sense of gratitude and a fraternal feeling for the world in general, as I supped my coffee and ate my toast at the breakfast table. I was interrupted by a strident female voice at the front door, inquiring for me. Some worthy soul who had come to contribute to the fund, I said to myself, as I dropped papers and breakfast and hurried into the library, where she sat enthroned on an old mahogany davenport, upholstered in horse-hair, a fit setting for the very rigid and severe face whicn confronted me. The commonplaces of an introduction over, she lowered her

voice, got me to confess that I was responsible for the relief corps, then de manded:

"Do you know that you have taken the name of another organization, and that name is our'n?"

This, then, was the drift of things. I braced myself for the fray.

"I know nothing whatever about it," I answered," and I care less."

The dragon glowered, and so did I. "A committee will wait upon you," she declared.

"Very well," said I, "but meantime you go to your committee and tell its members I think they are engaged in a very small quibble, and it makes me indignant that a few women cannot be permitted to work in the cause of common humanity without this absurd unpleasantness over a name."

"You see," she said, "the papers have come out and said the Women's Relief Corps is soliciting for San Francisco, and people might think it was us." That was the last straw.

"Madam," I said, rising, "go to your committee and tell them it would be far more distasteful to me to be confused with you and yours, than it could possibly be for you to be confused with me and mine. I will change the name of my little association-I will go to any trouble or pains to avert such a contingency."

I bowed her out, noting with satisfaction that she was flustrated, and so began and ended the only passage-at-arms of the whole period of our activity. The one result of the incident was that henceforth we were the Women's Relief Committee.

When we met together to report what had been accomplished and discuss future plans, we were twenty, and each brought the result of her efforts. A heap of silver and gold lay piled on the desk of the treasurer. The largest individual con tribution was one hundred dollars, the smallest ten cents; all told, it surpassed my fondest hopes. This much done, we were confronted with the problem with what to do with the funds; whether to send cash or supplies. We began to hear the actual want was for food and clothing, and that temporarily money was of little value, since there was nothing to

buy. We were also informed that men, rather than women and children, were suffering, so we shipped a case of men's underwear, shirts, caps, hats, socks, corduroy trousers and even handkerchiefs. Next followed a box of hospital suppliescotton, gauze, Castile soap, disinfectants, and all of the other articles mentioned by the Red Cross bulletin. Then followed half a hundred hot water bottles, cases of shoes, women's and children's wear, and every article of warm clothing that seemed to us to be practical. Originally, we had no thought of soliciting contributions of clothing, but they began to pour in, or rather we were kept busy answering telephone calls from people who were anxious to give, but not to deliver, their bundles. This led to a new problem; we must have a store room for such supplies. The Women's Club gave us quarters in its handsome building, and fifty dollars besides, an act of generosity more appreciated, perhaps, because at that time I was not a member.

We received these contributions every afternoon, one of the committee staying at the club house to take charge. O the material sent most was in excellent condition, much was new, and a little entirely worthless. A bussel formed the nucleus of one bundle; another contained a pair of dilapidated, rib-worn corsets, and somewhere we found a castoff bathing suit. These served their purpose, however, for they lightened the hard labor of packing with many a hearty laugh.

As is always the case, public enthusiasm waned with the first cheering reports. It is only fair to say that the whole nation had been heroically generous, and in many instances individuals who could not afford to spare an extra cent made the sacrifices to aid those in whom they had no interest, save that all-pervading human spirit of fellowship and brotherly love, which such calamities always call to life. And however dire the misfortune may be, however farreaching in its destruction, it is surely not without its beneficent influence upon the nature of mankind. The gradual decrease of voluntary contributions made it necessary to find other means of raising money, for the calls of want kept coming from the West, and our work

was not yet done. Various projects were discussed, and the result was, we decided to give a tea, the Womens' Club once more coming to the front and lending the whole of its house for the occaColumbia Gardens, Butte's pleas

ure ground, sent a wagonload of flowers, which were sufficient to transform the big rooms into bowers of green and bloom; cakes by the dozen and huge boxes of sandwiches were contributed, and singers and musicians offered their services. At three o'clock of the day set, all was ready, and our anxious eves scanned the lowering sky. At intervals spiteful little gusts of snow rattled on the window panes, and the wind whistled shrilly, but the guests and the whole town was invited impartially-began to arrive. Faster and faster they came, thicker and thicker grew the crowd, louder and louder the cheering clink of coin striking the tray as departing ones left their token.

It was part of my duty, as well as that of each member of the committee, to greet every stranger who came within our gate, and to infuse into her heart such enthusiasm that she would leave an extra quarter in the "hat," as we nicknamed the monev tray. I noticed a strange, black-eyed woman standing apart and alone, so I went over and said everything I could think of to make her feel at home. She was responsive in a cast-iron, German-accented way, and she said:

"I am Mrs. Kneipenschnitzenheimer.'

That was not exactly the name, but it is near enough for all purposes, and it was almost my downfall, as I entangled my tongue in its vowels and consonants, in a vain and spluttering attempt to introduce her.

"You haf not der great musitschen here," she said.

I did not know who he was, but I expressed a desire for him, and much telephoning followed by Mrs. Mrs. K and the air was filled with rumors of how some marvelous celebrity, who had dropped down on Butte for a brief hour of triumph, was coming to play. He arrived, finally, a long-haired individual, with an oily smile, and eyes that rolled around in his head like marbles. He was piloted in by an adoring woman,

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