136 THE COUNTRY BOY 



man is." We got off our wet rubbers and 

 coats and bundles and sat at the warm oak 

 fire till nearly two o'clock, talking of Jake 

 jNIcClaine. We thought of him in this wav: 

 he with Ai Coolidge, have the best houses in 

 all Silverton, the finest, softest beds, with the 

 biggest and best pillows; he has the best things 

 to eat; the warmest fireplace: he doesn't need 

 to work, yet he would leave all that to go 

 twenty miles into the mountains through an 

 eighth-mile strip of big timber, off into the 

 dead timber, to investigate into the health of 

 just a family of poor mountain people that 

 didn't know enough to move to the valley, 

 just because the man wanted to live like the 

 trapper and hunter that he was. It was a trip 

 that all the money in the world couldn't have 

 hired me to make. 



But this wasn't all that gave us food for talk; 

 as father savs: "It was this same Jake INIc- 

 Claine, this man with unkempt hair and beard, 

 with one pant leg in his boot and the other out, 

 that came when mv f amilv was down to death's 

 level with smallpox, when mc lived in the hills ; 

 when neighbors, yes, even relatives, had fled 

 and left me alone; when no one came near to 



