12 THE LOG OF A TIMBER CRUISER 



his thumb backward in the general direction of the 

 Sample saloon, from which, despite the time of day, 

 issued unmistakable sounds of revelry. We began 

 to connect the missing packer, Ewing, with Brown's 

 despondent air, and started en masse for the scene 

 of action. 



Frazer called a halt. 



"You two fellows, " he said, to Brown and myself, 

 "come with me. The rest can get the stuff over to 

 the hotel and arrange for supper and rooms. We '11 

 stay here to-night. " 



We found Ewing the centre of an admiring 

 throng of cowpunchers. He was seated on a table 

 in the centre of the bar room, very drunk, and 

 playing a violin with remarkable skill. Frazer 

 decided that there would be nothing gained by an 

 untimely interruption, so we joined the audience 

 and listened for an hour to as really excellent 

 a performance as I have ever heard. The music 

 ranged from popular airs to classical arias, from 

 the "Arkansas Traveller" to Dvorak's "Humor- 

 eske." The crowd was delighted; now silent, spell- 

 bound, now moved to the wildest enthusiasm. Ac- 

 customed to the squeak of a phonograph, or the 

 clumsy efforts of some local "fiddler" whose ambi- 

 tion ceased at "Listen to the Mockingbird," the 

 men were enthralled by this wonder. 



"Been here a week and we never knowed he could 

 play a lick," shouted one husky cowman, regret- 

 fully, "that's what comes of a man keepin' sober!" 



