The Little Gold Miners of the Sierras | Page 9

did their work in effecting a safe halt.
"The fireman was badly scorched," reported the press next day, "but
train and passengers were saved by the heroism of the engineer."
The words flashed along the wires over land and ocean; were set up in
startling type in hundreds of newspaper offices while he who did not
know heroism by name was breathing his last on a mattress laid on the
yellow-painted floor of the room he had seen so "clear" when the
engine-throb and piston-beat played Home, Sweet Home. The sunshine
that had followed the rain touched the white cheek of the opened lily
before falling on his sightless eyes and charred right hand.

When they brought him in he knew whose silent tears dropped so fast
upon his face, and the poor burned lips moved in a husky whisper. The
wife put her ear close to his mouth not to lose his dying words:
"I was afraid you'd see that we was a-fire. From the winder. I hope
you--didn't--wake Junior!" The boy who had begged his father to be a
hero!

BENNY'S WIGWAM.
"Now, Pettikins," said Benny Briggs, on the first day of vacation,
"come along if you want to see the old Witch."
Pettikins got her little straw hat, and holding Benny's hand with a
desperate clutch, trotted along beside him, giving frequent glances at
his heroic face to keep up her courage. Her heart beat hard as they took
their way across to the island. The island is really no island at all, but a
lonely, lovely portion of Still Harbor, between Benny's home and
Grandma Potter's, which by means of a small inlet and a little creek,
and one watery thing and another, is so nearly surrounded by water as
to feel justified in calling itself an island. They crossed over the little
bridge that took them to this would-be island, and following an almost
imperceptible wood path, came within sight of the Witch's hut. It was a
deserted, useless, wood-chopper's hut, which the mysterious creature
whom the children called a witch had taken possession of not long
before. Here Fanny drew back. "O Benny, I am afraid," said she.
"Humph! she can't hurt you in the daytime," said Benny. "She ain't no
different in the daytime from any other old woman. It's only nights she
is a witch."
Fanny allowed herself to be led a few steps further, and then drew back
again. "O Benny," said she, "there's her broomstick! there it is, right
outside o' the door--and O Benny, Benny, there's her old black cat!"
"Wal, what on it, hey? What on it?" creaked a dreadful voice close
behind them. Then, indeed, Fanny shrieked and tried to run, but

Benny's hand held her fast. She hid her face against Benny's arm and
sobbed.
It was the old Witch her very self. She looked at them out of her
glittering eyes--O how she did look at them!--with her head drooped
until her chin rested on her chest. This seemed to bring the arrows of
her eyes to bear upon the enemy with greater force and precision.
"There ain't any law ag'in my having a cat and a broomstick, is there?"
she asked in a voice like the cawing of a crow, bringing her staff down
with a thump at the words "cat" and "broomstick." "What are you
skeered of?"
"Why, you're queer, you know," said Benny desperately.
"Queer, queer?" piped the Witch; and then she laughed, or had a
dreadful convulsion, Benny couldn't tell which, ending in a long,
gurgling "Hoo-oo-oo!" on a very high key. "Now, s'pose you tell me
what is 't makes me queer," said she, sitting down on a log and
extracting from the rags on her bosom a pipe, which she prepared to
smoke.
"Whew!" whistled Benny, "'twould take me from now till Christmas;
I'd rather you'd tell me."
The crone lighted her pipe. The match flaring upon her wrinkled,
copper-colored face and its gaunt features made her hideous. Poor little
Fanny, who ventured to peep out at this moment, sobbed louder, and
begged to go to her mother. The old woman puffed away at her pipe,
fixing her gaze upon the children.
"Got a mother, hey?" said she.
"Yes."
"And a father?"
"Yes."

"Um-m-m."
She puffed and gazed.
"You wouldn't like to see 'em shot?"
At this Benny stood speechless, and Fanny set up such a cry to go
home that Benny was afraid he should have to take her away--that is, if
the Witch would let him. He began to consider his chances. Still the
more terrible the old Witch seemed, the more Benny wanted to see and
hear her. He whispered to Fanny:
"She won't hurt you, Pettikins--she can't; I won't let her. Hush a minute,
and see what