his eye to their present size, and, like a father, he was blind to weak points in these children of his imagination. to his own camp he is said to have re marked: " Boys, if this old camp ever gets out of debt and has a surplus, I shall vote to buy an ornamental liar like Judge Woods. Why, bless my soul, boys, a camp ain't in working order without one." Of course local jealousy may have been largely responsible for this opinion of the judge. He was writing a book, he once told us - a book for children; it was to be called "The Three Buckets of Blood, or The Bloody Beer Brewer of Bolivia." I don't think he ever finished it; even his patient friends at the Caribou House mutinied when the first chapter was read to them. In his stories he was always figuring as a hero in some wonderful love adventure; unfortunately, so it appeared to us, the "other fellow" always carried off the girl; but this fact never seemed to trouble the judge, he married them off without a tremor, and allotted each one a family of from six to sixteen children. ha One night on his return from the valley, the judge surprised us with a story of a wonderful scarecrow he had seen at Jamieson's ranch, just below Nederland Camp. "So natural, boys, it not only kept the crows from taking any more corn, but one old bird was so worked up, he brought back some corn he had carried away the day before. Seems hard to swallow, don't it, boys? That's the way it struck me, boys, at first. But, boys, just as I had about made up my mind Jamieson was lying, a flock of crows passed over the field, and that galoot pointed out the very crow; pointed it out without a moment's hesitation, in a crowd of nigh on to a hundred other crows; that's why I believe his story. No one could doubt after such evidence as that." One night Jim Strickland, a miner living down at Nederland Camp, made one of our party around the fire. He listened with interest and apparent pleasure to one of the judge's old love-stories; when it came to an end a disagreeable smile lighted up his ugly face. "Judge," he broke out, "the last time I heard you spin that yarn you only allowed the woman had seven children. I'm sure it was only seven, for I noticed at the time it was just the number of kids I had at home; to-night you say the woman had nine children." The judge turned and looked him squarely in the face; this style of criticism was new. "When did you hear me tell that story?" "The night Yankee Jim shot the little chap from Boulder, the one we used to call the Widder's Mite,' 'cause he was the only kid she had." "That was about ten months ago, wasn't it?" queried the judge. Yes," answered Strickland, "just about." 66 arty 'I The judge had taken an active part in the late civil war - a very prominent part, if all his stories were to be believed. His description of a retreat is characteristic of the man. "Yes, boys, we were licked; I saw it at a glance, and I rode right over to General Sheridan and told him so. guess you're right, Billy,' he said, 'it hasn't looked right to me for the last hour.' Then he turned, and, with his big blue eyes full of tears, said, 'Boys, we're licked; skedaddle out of range;' and you bet they did. I led the crowd. Crossing one of the fields I saw a poor fellow ahead of me carrying a wounded soldier on his back; his right leg had been shot off. Just before I overtook him, a stray shot from a battery on the hill whizzed over my head. It missed me, but carried away the head of the wounded man the soldier just in front of me was carrying. It did it so nicely the soldier never suspected his wounded friend was now minus a head as well as a leg. At this moment old Captain Browning, a gruff old fellow, rode by. Noticing the soldier and his strange burden, he pulled up by his side. Hullo, boy! where are you taking that fellow?' "To the field hospital, captain.' "The field hospital! What can they do for him there his head is shot off?" "The soldier dropped his burden on the ground, looked at it a moment in amazeThe next day when Strickland got back ment, then exclaimed, 'The fool told me it "If you hadn't been a bloomen idiot you wouldn't have chipped in with such a simple question. Because you and your sleepy old camp never move, you mustn't imagine my friends stand still. Got a letter from this dear girl last week. Twins, born Thursday, both boys.' She had decided, long before little stranger arrived, to name it after me, after her worthless old lover, Billy Woods; didn't expect two, so only had one name ready, so she had to split it up, the name, not the babies; called one Billy, the other Woods clever, wasn't it? clever in the little woman to remember me nothing small either in the way she did it. Twins that's handsome, shows she had her heart in it, don't it, boys?" was his leg,' and hurried on to the rear, I fear, a little jealous of the place he held in mad as a hornet at the poor dead soldier for having deceived him." In 1874 times were good in camp and every man had plenty of work; early hours were, therefore, necessary, so about ten o'clock our little party would break up. Rising from his large chair by the fireplace, the judge would gravely pull on his old blue overcoat, balance his hat on the top of his round, bald head, and with a hearty "Good-night, go to bed, you worth Jeless vagabonds," pass through the narrow door, and be swallowed up in the dark ness. One accustomed to camp life, its rush and excitement, its terrible strain on mind and body, can hardly appreciate the charm a character like Judge Woods had in the eyes of men plunged in a mad race for 15 wealth. His kind words were always welcome because disinterested; he had no favors to ask, no motive prompting his actions other than a love for his fellowmen—a love so strong he often tried to I hide it under a mask of brusqueness, a manner rough and foreign to him. He wanted nothing from us but our friendship, a place in our hearts, and the chance to be our companion in the sunshine and the shadow. And more than one poor fellow, as he found his strength failing in the awful race for gold, cast a longing glance after the quiet, easy-going little man, who seemed to stand aside and above the crowd as it swept on to the twin goals -gold and the grave. It was an awful thing to look on, this wild struggle for gold; men seemed to forget all else; one thought, one passion possessed body and soul. The glory of the mountains, the sweet music of the pines, all the many-sided and wonderful panorama of nature, passed before them unnoticed. Not so with the judge; into his quiet life came other and gentler influences; a thousand beauties unseen by the feverish crowd, a thousand sweet whisperings unheard by them, gladdened his eye and echoed in his heart. Is it to be wondered at that he kept young and seemed always happy? No one would ever think of calling the judge a good man; there was little in his life to suggest the presence of the religious element. While he kept on good terms with the clergy in camp, and they, like all the rest, were fond of him, they could not bring themselves to openly approve the broad-gauge plan on which he conducted his life. They were even, I everybody's heart, and were disappointed that he did not figure prominently in the regular Saturday night shooting affairs that had made Caribou Camp famous far and wide. He wouldn't even oblige them by going on a mild spree, so that they might use him to "point a moral and adorn a tale." He would persist in keeping out of trouble. Even when the police made an unexpected descent on that quarter of the camp peopled by the scarlet sisters women living, it is true, above the clouds, but far from angels in character - Judge Woods escaped without even the smell of fire on his garments. Why would this man persist in being so delightfully irreligious and yet so irritatingly respectable? If the judge did ever suspend discipline, and candor forces me to admit he sometimes did take a drop too much, he always had the good sense to lock himself up in his cabin and have it out all alone. On several occasions, just after he came to Caribou, he had been confined to his bed for a few days with an attack of asthma, he called it - but we didn't ask any questions. The tremor of his hand, the dark lines under his eyes, and a nameless, almost indefinable sadness in face and manner, went to our hearts and kept us silent. Indeed, I think we loved him more than ever after we discovered he was human and weak at some point, as Heaven knows we all are. There was a positive charm in the fellow's good, natural uselessness. The camp changed, improved, progressed; work, bustle, and development seemed to touch all men and things, all but the judge and his mine, “The Sovereign People." Men might come and men might go, they stood still together. As justice of the peace he was a unique specimen. He would preside in his miniature court with surprising dignity, and woe to the stranger who, presuming on a bar-room acquaintance, failed to show due respect to the court. Some of the judge's opinions are still preserved in the Colorado archives; models of originality if not law. One day, discharging from custody a Chinaman who had escaped conviction for stealing chickens, owing to the lack of proper identification, he said: "Take my advice and get out of this place as quick as you can, you yellow heathen. As justice of the peace, sworn to administer the law, I can't hold you on this evidence, but as an humble citizen of this great and prosperous mining camp, if I lay my hands on you to-night it will be unpleasant I was for one of us." Addressing the crowd of would shoulder his trout rod, and, fol. miners who filled the room, he went on: lowed by half-a-dozen children, start for a "It's a pity the missionaries can't civilize tramp in the woods. He claimed to be a these brutes, Christianize them up to a great fisherman, but he never was known level where a free and enlightened Amer- to bring back any fish from his excursions ican citizen can kill the yellow devils into the mountains. At last I discovered without striking a blow at his self-respect the reason of his poor success. and lowering his dignity. Sheriff, don't coming down the mountain one summer bring any more Chinamen here unless you afternoon, walking slowly, for I was very have enough evidence to convict them. tired. I had been over in the Grand MidIf there is any doubt, we can settle with dle Park prospecting. The ground under them better out of court. Here, I'm apt the trees was so thickly strewn with pine to execute the law in a correct but unpop-needles that my steps made little noise. ular manner, but when I lay aside my Suddenly, through a break in the under judicial ermine I'm with you-with you every time." 0 こど bush, I saw the judge and a party of little children. The judge was seated on the The silver mine that originally brought ground, his back resting against the trunk the judge to Caribou occupied very little of a pine-tree-in his arms was a little of his time; indeed, he seldom visited it. child fast asleep. Playing in front of him Every now and then he would find some were the rest of the little party-six poor fellow in camp out of work and out happy children, their mouths and hands of money. He would at once decide to full of candy, all trying hard to laugh and do some new work on the mine, and send- talk and eat candy at the same time. By ing the poor miner down into one of the the judge's side lay an open book, a volume drifts, keep him busy until he could find of Hans Andersen's fairy-tales - I recog steady work in some other mine. No one nized its peculiar binding. His fishingin camp ever heard of any one being rod leaned against a tree, the fly dangling taken out of the mine. "No, he was only harmlessly over the little stream that went opening up the mine, not working it," the hurrying by, merrily singing as it swept judge would say when questioned. "The on from its home of play in the mountains mine is a splendid one; the hole in the to its field of work on the plains below. side of the mountain represents the Sover- The judge was gravely smoking his large eign People my stockholders; the suf- pipe and seemed to be far away in dreamfering people - neither bother me much. land- he was looking out through an The governor owns all the stock. He opening in the trees, on the wide prairie never thought it worth anything why twenty miles away, and more than ten should I startle him with a dividend? As thousand feet below. Just over his shoul. for me, I don't want to get rich; what der the Peak lifted its snowy face, the good would the money do me? I'm trees parting to let it complete the picture. happy now I couldn't say more if IA woodpecker plied his noisy trade overowned the earth. If I did strike it rich, head. Two small birds flew from a thicket what would be the result? I would grow across the stream and perched fearlessly stuck up, turn my back on you worthless on a stump near the children; they seemed vagabonds, and go off and live with people to be waiting for an invitation to join the who didn't care for me only wanted my happy little party. Only the laughter of gold dust. Why, it would just break my the children, the ripples of the stream, poor old heart; that is all the good money and the tapping of the woodpecker broke would do me. But come, boys, this par- the solemn stillness of the woods. ticular miner is very thirsty. I struck a soft air was heavy with the odor of the good pocket this morning" (the old man's pines. The tops of the trees interlacing monthly remittance). There is silver far above shut out the bright sunshine, enough in sight for one last drink. Gen- making the long aisles of pine-trees look tlemen of the jury, are you ready? Yes,' weird and strange in the half-light of the bottoms up 'down with crime.' In this woods; the earth, warm with the breath peculiar and original manner the judge of summer, seemed throbbing with life. discharged the arduous duties of general Overcome by all these influences, I fell manager of the Sovereign People Mining asleep; when I awoke, an hour later, the and Milling Company, Limited. judge and his party had gone back to camp. After this I never was surprised to see the judge bring home an empty basket; neither did I wonder that time with him seemed to stand still, nor that In the long summer afternoons, when the pine woods were full of sweet odors and the sun dropped long pencils of light through the interlacing boughs, the judge The Π years in passing traced no wrinkles on his | fun was absent. Even the judge seemed kindly face. to feel the shadow, and although he tried manfully to keep up our spirits, he found it well-nigh impossible. The snow had been falling all day, the wind was now rising, drifting the dry snow in every direction and burying some of the smaller cabins out of sight. The talk around the fire having ended, we sat watching through the window opposite a Christmas service in the little church across the street. One of the many boys in camp who knew the judge and loved him, was an old gambler of the name of Shaw. Before he Eistan came to Caribou he had won a pretty bad name, not because he played a skin game -no one ever accused him of that -but he had an ugly way of handling his "gun." He seldom used it twice on the same man; it was unnecessary. One Saturday night the market was crowded with people. Daly, a drunken old brute, got into a quarrel with his wife; maddened by some remark, he grabbed a long steak knife and made a spring at her; Shaw was standing by, he hadn't time to draw his gun, but quick as thought he leaped between them and grasped the glittering bit of steel in his naked hand as it descended. His hand broke the force of the blow a little, but he received an ugly cut in the side; one that made him a prisoner in his cabin all winter. I shall never forget the scene the woman crouching, white as death, the man livid with passion -the long, keen blade of steel glittering for a moment, then the panther-like spring of that brave outcast who held his life as nothing against the life of an unprotected woman. During his life of adventure Shaw had won and lost two fortunes, but, as luck would have it, this sickness found him poor, but the judge found a way to make things easy for him. Every few days he would climb up the mountain to Shaw's cabin, get out his old faro bank and deal the cards until the wounded gambler had won a few dollars. Then he would bluster around the room a few moments, blurting out a host of old maxims regarding the evil of gambling, burst into a hearty laugh, and go home chuckling over the success of his scheme, to pull the wool over the gambler's eyes. "I can't give him money," said the judge one night at dinner, "it would hurt the rascal's selfrespect. I don't; I simply afford him an opportunity to earn an honest penny.' Of course the judge deceived no one but himself by his wonderful strategy, still we loved him all the more, because he was so careful of other people's feelings. The church was on a lower level than the Caribou House, and from our place by the fire we could see all over the church. It wasn't a very cheerful thing to watch, only a few of the congregation had ventured out in the storm to wish their little parson "Merry Christmas." They were huddled in one corner of the barren room, trying to find comfort by the small fire. A feeble attempt at Christmas decoration, in the shape of a few green wreaths and pine cones, only served to emphasize the cheerless aspect of the place. A pair of slippers, a fancy lamp shade, and a few other worthless trifles were laid on the pulpit, the Christmas offerings of the congregation to their faithful pastor. Two hymns were sung, a prayer offered, then they shook hands with the parson and one by one sneaked out of the door. At last the pastor of the flock stood alone. Glancing around the room to see that no one remained, he dropped his head upon his clasped hands and stood leaning against the pulpit, the picture of a discouraged, disappointed man. At last, roused perhaps by the thought of wife and child at home, he gathered up the few useless gifts, and, turning out the lamp, started sadly for his little home. I | "It's a shame," broke out the judge. "a shame the way they treat that little chap. He works early and late for his people and they half starve him, although every scoundrel in the congregation has made a barrel of money this summer. don't believe the boy has enough at home for a square meal on Christmas. Boys, ."let's club in, make up a good jack-pot, and give the little Gospel chap a Christmas blow out." It didn't take two minutes to make up a good round sum; we all entered heartily into the scheme, and a few minutes later we were tramping through the snow, each bound in a different direction; for, in order to save time, we divided up the work of buying the different articles. We were all to meet at the Caribou and go down to the parson's house together. Twenty minutes later we filed slowly out of the hotel, each man loaded It was Christmas eve, and all of the boys in camp found their minds wandering back to far-away home, and living over in fancy other and brighter Christmas eves in the past. Under the weight of old memories supper at the Caribou passed off very quietly; even when, later on, we gathered around the fire, the old spirit of clean out of the game; they didn't even down with bundles or baskets. The the ante that time, raised the other crowd judge led the procession, a big turkey swung jauntily over his right shoulder, two bundles of celery springing from his overcoat pockets. Plunging along through the drifts of snow almost to the shoulder, we at last reached the parson's cabin. The judge knocked; we saw the light move inside, and then the door was cautiously opened and the little preacher stood before us. Seeing a crowd of men, he started to close the door, but the judge stepped forward saying, "Parson, we just dropped down to wish you a merry Christmas; we don't mean any harm; it's Billy Woods and his crowd from the Caribou House." A moment later we were all gathered in the kitchen, the only room large enough to hold our party. Our burdens were deposited on the table; they made quite an imposing pile. When we had all taken our places in front of the parson, the judge, his face wreathed in smiles, stepped forward, and, taking him by the hand, said: "Parson, we ain't exactly your kind, we don't shine much in religious circles, but we are men with eyes that see and hearts that feel, and we love you; we may not be qualified to give an opinion on you as a preacher, but you bet we miners know a man when we see one. And we know you have been doing a heap of good work among the boys here in camp, so we thought we would drop in and thank you, and wish you a merry Christmas, you and your wife and little child. That's about it, boys, ain't it?" "That's it," we all answered. The poor little parson tried to speak, but something seemed to rise in his throat, his eyes wandered from face to face, then filled with tears; he tried once more to speak but could not; grasping the judge's hand and murmuring, "God bless you, boys!" he dropped his head on the judge's shoulder and cried just like a child; kind ness was so new, so strange to him; it all came too suddenly. But in a moment he gathered himself together and thanked us each, thanked us in a way we never shall forget. We left him then, a far different man from the one who had sadly turned out the light and left the church an hour before. I was the last of the party to leave the house. A door was half open and I saw into one of the bedrooms; a woman was on her knees, a little child stood up in bed, looking with dancing eyes through a mass of yellow hair at the loaded table in the kitchen. "Boys," said the judge, as we gathered round our fire a few moments later, "boys, I think we raised Christmas morning dawned bright and clear the storm had worn itself out during the night-not a cloud was to be seen; on every side the new-fallen snow lifted its pure, white face, as if to receive the great message of the day from the heaven bending above. We had gathered in the dining-room and were waiting for the judge; we had decorated his armchair with flowers, brought all the way from Denver; our little presents were piled by his plate; we waited half an hour, but no judge appeared, and reluctantly we sat down to breakfast without him, expecting to see his jolly face enter the room every moment. An hour passed, still no sign of the judgewe began to fear he was ill. While we were talking, Brunton, who lived on the cliff at the back of the judge's house, came in. "Boys, have you seen the judge this morning? He promised my kid he'd bring him some Christmas things last night, but he didn't show up. I stopped at the judge's cabin on my way down, but I could get no answer. are sure he isn't somewhere about?" You In a moment we had thrown on our heavy coats and were hurrying up the mountain to the judge's cabin; we knocked - there was no answer; we pushed open the door-the light was burning brightly - the fire was out, the cabin cold and deserted, the judge's bed untouched. Quick as possible, our hearts beating fast, we ran along the narrow path leading from the judge's cabin to Brunton's house, the path we knew the judge must have taken after leaving us last night. A hundred yards beyond we came to the cliff, the most dangerous part of the way; here the path ran on the very edge of the rock and there |