A RANCHMAN'S RECOLLECTIONS 



We stood with our feet on the rim of the barrel, 

 our hands on the cable, and as the drop began I 

 looked up at the daylight above, and said, "Goodbye, 

 old girl, if I never see you again." 



Below the level of the mine there was a sump, 

 and the engineer, not through with his fun, dropped 

 us to the water line before my guide could signal 

 him to stop. I found my man, got my release, and 

 when I reached the top was so glad to see any one 

 but the engineer that I rushed over and kissed a 

 handsome setter dog. That night the central body 

 met and released us, but the miners told the story, 

 and had about as much fun over it as boys on a 

 ranch have when some one is thrown but not hurt. 



I shall not here enter into a description of very 

 much the same procedure in the Coeur d'Alene 

 country, except to say that I was accompanied by 

 a merchant from Missoula, Mont., who had a branch 

 at Wallace, Idaho. We went into a little restaurant 

 in the mining district for lunch. There was a local 

 strike on, and almost everyone had "tanked up." 

 Our waiter had achieved a particularly compre- 

 hensive "jag." Some one pointed me out as the man 

 who was trying to lift the Armour boycott. We 

 ordered boiled eggs. The waiter called back, "Boil 

 two dozen," and then addressing us directly, said, 

 "When any of ye damned capitalists come out here 

 to run this country we'll feed ye well, but, by God, 

 ye'll eat what's set before ye." 



[IS] 



