The Honolulu Times

LOVE IN SLEEPY CAMP.

(From Mainly About People.)

It was too hot for work in "Sleepy Camp," so nearly all the men had given it up for the day and lounged into Zeb's saloon to have a smoke and a drink. Though it was getting well on in the afternoon the sun was still blazing hot and there wasn't a breath of air to move the red dust. In a little shanty, not far from the saloon, sat two young diggers, both tall, well built men, but one handsome, the other ugly—hence their nicknames—Bob the Beauty and Ugly Sam. Sam sat in the corner near the window, through which could be faintly heard the laughing and singing at Zeb's; Bob sat on the table, swinging his legs.

"It's a treat to git out o' that scorchin' sun," said Ugly, pulling a pipe out of his pocket and knocking the ash on the floor.

"Yes," agreed Beauty, stretching his arms and yawning fearfully.

"We've had a grand day, haven't we, Beauty?" asked Sam, striking a match on his boot.

"Yes," answered Bob, shutting his big mouth with a snap.

"You seem to take it awful quiet—you don't seem to grasp that we—we two pards—have found the biggest nugget ever dug up in 'Sleepy Camp.'"

"Oh, yes, I do," replied Bob, kicking so hard at the table leg that it seemed more than likely the rickety old thing would give way.

"Let's have another look at it!"

So saying, Sam jumped to his feet and took a key out of his pocket, crossed to a large chest that was standing up against the wall, fitted it in the lock and threw back the lid with a bang.

It was a nugget goodness knows how much it was worth.

"Isn't it grand," cried Sam, falling on his knees and patting it affectionately with his hand.

"I should say it was," said Bob, slipping off the table to have a look over Ugly's head.

"Another find half as big as that, and we're made fer life," and Sam closed the lid and locked it, putting the key carefully back into his pocket.

Bob crossed to the table and took up his former position.

"Ours has turned out a trump of 'er claim," he said.

Sam nodded his head and replied: "Rather."

"What'll you do when yer have enough—give up work?" asked Bob.

"I might think o' doing so," answered Sam, relighting his pipe.

"Might git married, eh?"

"Maybe."

Bob slipped down off the table once more and went to the door—opened it and looked out. Two or three miners were passing on their way to their shanties; they greeted him with "Good evening, Beauty," and walked on. Bob kicked the door to and strode across to Sam, who was still puffing at his pipe.

"Look here, Ugly," said Bob; "it's no good us two goin' on like this, is it?"

"No," replied Sam, rising from his seat.

"What's ter be done?"

Sam shook his head.

"'Bout Lil, I mean," explained Bob.

"I know what yer mean, Beauty," and Sam looked intently at the floor as if thinking.

"Who does she like the best o' us two?" asked Bob.

"Can't say—the one she's talkin' to at the time, I guess."

"Look here, Ugly," said Bob, "we've always been good pals, we've not had rows like Hatchet and Black George, and it's a pity we should start now, especially 'bout a woman."

"Yer right enough there!" agreed Sam.

"Now, we both love Lil," continued Bob, and there was a perceptible catch in his voice at the word "love," "and we think she cares fer us both jist about the same."

"Ye."

"Well, if one were to go, the one left would most probably have 'er—eh?"

"Yes," from Sam, with a nod of the head.

"Who's to go?" asked Bob.

The two men looked at each other—there was silence for a moment except for the distant laughing—then Sam felt in his pocket for something and said:

"You see this dollar piece? Well, it may sound a bit wrong to spin for her, but listen, Beauty, one of us two has ter go. I'll throw this coin up, you call, and if yer right I'll pack, but if yer wrong I'll stay."

Bob bit his lips.

"Is it a go?" asked Sam.

"And the one that goes, does he take his share?" Bob asked.

"He takes that," answered Sam, pointing to the chest. "If yer right yer have Lil—and I take the nugget, but if wrong yer go with the nugget and I stay with the gal."

"It seems a bit funny—"

"But," interrupted the other, "it's a way out of the wood; if we both stay ther'll be shootin'."

"All right, Ugly, it's a bargain." Bob drew a long breath. "We'll stick by the spin of that there dollar."

"We will. Shall I throw?" asked Sam quietly.

"Yes," came from Bob in the same tone.

"Call while it's high," said Sam, and up it went—spinning round and round in the air.

"Heads!" cried Bob.

Down it came with a ring on the floor and rolled into a corner of the room.

"See what it is," said Sam.

Bob crossed hesitatingly and peered down into the corner.

"It's heads," he cried, "I've lost."

"And I've won," cried Sam, rushing over to the place and picking up the dollar, "my dear old lucky coin," and he put it to his lips and kissed it—then went to Bob, who was looking out of the window.

"Shake!" he said, holding out hand.
Bob turned and took it, gripping hard.

"Here's the key to the chest—you've got the nugget," said Sam.

"Yes, that's right enough," replied Bob the Beauty with a chuckle: "I'll be off in the morning."

It was early when Bob got up next morning—so early that there was only a very faint tinge of light in the east, but he hadn't slept it wink, so it was as good as tossing about for another hour or so.

He unlatched the door at the shanty as noiselessly as he could for fear of waking Sam, who was snoring away on his back, and slipped out into the open. He wanted to have a last look around, and straighten things up for his going—he'd have to make some excuse to the boys, he thought, they'd think it so strange, and so he walked down to the claim.

Although he had gone out so quietly, the click of the latch had been enough for Sam, who awoke to find himself laughing, positively laughing, he was so happy.

He didn't get up immediately, but lay there planning out his future happiness.

He was sorry, very sorry for Beauty, but perhaps the nugget would be some consolation to him: besides, he didn't think Bob liked the girl as much as he did.

Quite an hour passed before he dressed himself, a bit smarter than usual, and went out. He even picked a little yellow flower that was growing among the grass by the side of the track and put it in his buttonhole.

He had been walking for some time, now and then breaking into song in his deep, rough voice, and hardly noticing where he went—till he looked up and found himself by Peep Hollow, some way out of the camp; so he sat down with his back against a big pine and lit his pipe.

"As happy as a King I'd be," he started to sing between the puffs of smoke, when he stopped suddenly, for coming along the path toward him he saw a slight figure in a big straw hat. His heart gave a bound. It was Lil!

Ugly sat very still as she approached, and she didn't see him being very interested in something she was talking to—he strained his ears to listen.

"You dear, dear, old fellow—how I love you—better than all the world—Sleepy Camp thrown in."

It was a photo-picture she addressed these remarks to. Sam could make that much out.

"There, back to your little hiding place, and nobody knows nothing about yer."

So saying she kissed it and slipped into the front of her blouse, then, turning from the path, cut through the pines.

Sam had stopped his song to listen, and it was some moments before he thought of getting up to follow her, but he did after a time, and tried to make out the way she had gone.

He had been breaking through the undergrowth for a few minutes when he saw something on the ground a few yards ahead.

"It's the picture she had," said Sam to himself, so he forced his way through to the spot where it lay. It was face downward he picked it up and turned it over—it was Beaut's.

Sam let it fall with a half-stifled cry and put his hand to his throat then kicked his way out to the track again and made for the shanty.

He met two or three of the boys who were off to work, but he never raised his head to their greetings.

Reaching the hut he pushed the door open and stumbled in. Bob hadn't returned (his things were still unpacked); he took a long time to say good-by to his friends.

Sam dropped into a chair, and stared hard at the door then he jumped up and rummaged in the room for something and returned to the table with a dirty piece of paper and a little stump of a pencil

He sat down, and then, with his great heart like a lump of lead, wrote, in a very illegible hand:

Dear Beauty—You're sure ter be knocked when yer see this, but you'll be glad. We tossed square and fair for the gal, and I won, well—I were a fool ter think that a gal would like me in pref. ter you. Anyway, I soon found out my mistake, so I'm goin' instead of you.

The arrangements were that if one had Lil, the other has the nugget—so being, it belongs ter me, but I ain't goin' to take it—you'd 'ave ter wait a time 'fore yer found another—p'raps never—I don't want it. Yer stay—I go.

Still always your mate and pard.

UGLY SAM.

Leaving the scrawl upon the table, Sam put a few belongings into a bundle and went out—slamming the door.

As he threw the bundle over his shoulder he noticed the little yellow flower in his buttonhole. He took it out and threw it away, lit his pipe and turned his back on Sleepy Camp.