Baldy of Nome | Page 4

jest
hungry." The child's mouth quivered and he hesitated, yet he was
determined to tell the whole of the sordid little tragedy now that he had
begun. "But spendin' too much time with him when I should be workin'
ain't the worst. To-day I done somethin' that mebbe she'll think ain't
exac'ly square; an' my mother believes if you ain't square in this world
you ain't much worth while."
"You're not, son," agreed "Scotty" heartily. "Your mother's right."
"My father was allers called Honest Ben Edwards out here on the Third
Beach Line, an' Mother says she'd ruther have that mem'ry o' him than
all the fortunes that's been made in Alaska by lyin' an' steal-in' an'
jumpin' other people's claims."
"Right again, Ben. Nothing can take that from her, and a name like that
is the best thing a man can leave his son."
"This mornin' she gave me some money fer a new pair o' mittens fer
her, an' shoes fer me; an' the cook asked me t' buy a kitchen knife an' a
few pans fer him. I walked inter town t' git 'em, an' Baldy come with
me, though she said I was foolish t' be bothered with him. But I told her
it was awful lonesome on the trail, an' she said I could take him this
time." He paused for breath, visibly embarrassed.
"And you forgot all about your errands," hazarded the Woman.
"No, ma'am, I didn't exac'ly forgit, but when I was passin' the Court
House an' I seen a big crowd inside, I went in, too, ter listen a minute.
"That lawyer Fink, that got up the Kennel Club, an' has the bully dog
team, an' Daly, the feller with the smile that makes you feel like there's

sunshine in the room, was a-talkin' agin each other; an' their fightin'
was so excitin' an' so smooth an' perlite too, that everybody was
a-settin' on the edges o' their chairs a-waitin' fer what was a-comin'
next."
"So you were interested in what the lawyers had to say?"
"Yes, sir. Ever since my mother told me the story about President
Lincoln a while ago, I been wantin' t' be a lawyer when I grow up. He
didn't have no more book-learnin' than me at first, but he wouldn't let
nothin' stop him, an' jest see what he done."
"Lincoln is to be your model, then? Well, you're right to aim high, Ben.
You can practice his simple virtues of being honest and kind and
industrious every day, and anywhere. And the education must be
managed someway," added the Woman thoughtfully.
"After Mother read me that speech o' Mr. Lincoln's at Gettysburg, when
all the people was jest dumb from their feelin's bein' so solemn an' deep;
an' some o' his other speeches that was fine, I begun t' go t' town
whenever there was t' be any good speakin', even when I had t' walk
both ways."
"Shows your determination, as a starter," replied "Scotty"
encouragingly. "And were you always repaid for your tramp?"
"Most allers, Mr. Allan. Last Fourth o' July I heerd Judge Tucker tell in
his pleasant voice 'at sounds like he likes talkin' t' you all that Virginia's
done fer our country, an' I wished I was from Virginia too. But mebbe
some day I'll make some boy wish he was from Alaska by bein' fine an'
smart an' gentle like Judge Tucker."
"Virginia or Alaska, Ben--it's all the same, so long as you're proud of
your state, and give your state a chance to be proud of you."
"Yes, ma'am; that's what Mother says. Then I heerd Tom Gaffney
recitin' Robert Emmett's last speech, on St. Patrick's day, at Eagle Hall,
an' I near cried at the end; an' I don't cry easy. It takes somethin' pretty

bad t' make me cry," and he looked furtively toward Baldy.
"I'm sure it does, sonny; any one can see that you're game, all right; but
that speech always makes me cry too."
The boy regarded "Scotty" appreciatively. Here was a typical Alaskan,
a sturdy trailsman, touched by the tender, pitiful things of life, just like
a little boy that hasn't had time to become hardened. Ben felt that they
would be friends.
[Illustration: SCOTTY AND BALDY]
"I like all kinds o' speakin', too; not jest the fiery sort that makes you
want t' fight fer your country, an' mebbe die fer it like Robert Emmett;
but the kind that jest makes you want t' be good ter folks an' dogs, an'
do the best you kin when things is agin you, an' you don't see much
ahead--"
The Woman nodded gravely. "Yes, I know. It's the most difficult sort
of bravery--the sort without flags, and music, and cheers to keep you up
to