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THE DISSOLUTION OF ABIJAH DUSENBURY. 
DR. G, A. MACK, 
From far above the timber line, the snow- 
born Occamo comes, in puny turbulence, to 
seek tranquillity in the Columbia and ulti- 
mate Nirvana in the broad Pacific. It 
reaches the evergreen scrub a brawling 
little torrent, leaping sheer cliffs, boiling 
furiously around obstructing boulders. In 
the timber it broadens beyond the leap of 
the most agile deer. Though foam-flecked 
always, its waters flow in ever lengthening 
reaches from ledge to ledge, pausing a mo- 
ment in the deep pool at the foot of each 
fall to gather energy for another rush. 
The trees of the second growth forest 
through which it speeds are already large 
enough to tempt the lumberman. Soon they 
will follow the great conifers that shad- 
owed the stream when the Wenatchee range 
was a fastness for the warriors of the 
Lummi. Here and there, standing for the 
most part on inaccessible cliffs that saved 
them from the ax, giant pines still lift 
their age-gnarled branches. The tallest of 
these pines can view, beyond the woodland 
and beyond an ever widening champaign, 
the shimmer of the sea. 
What they may no longer behold, is the 
wood life of their prime. The last bear 
and mountain lion of this region exist only 
as moth-eaten pelts. The deer are gone, 
’ save an occasional fugitive driven into the 
valley by a pack of hounds or string of 
howling beatcrs. A few grouse remain, 
but they no longer strut and dust them- 
selves in the disused lumber roads. They 
keep to cover; for the market is not far, 
and they have learned their value. 
Yet to that stream there came, one sum- 
mer day, 2 men. One, long limbed and 
ramshackly, carried a scap net and an emp- 
ty feed bag. The other, a chunky, red 
faced chap, carried himself only, but with 
an air of might. 
“T tell you, Cal,” he was saying, “this 
rod-and-line business makes me tired. The 
feller’s a fool that will wade all day for 
a few fish.” 
“But, *Bijah,” returned the tall one, 
“we'll have walked all day by the time we 
get home.” 
“Mebbe,” said Abijah; “but by night 
you'll have all the load you want to tote.” 
“They say a feller at Moquash got his 
arm blown off last week,” remarked Cal 
dubiously. 
“Then he didn’t understand himself,” re- 
plied Abijah. “I’ve played this trick before 
and know how to do it. We'll start in the 
197 
big pool by the dead pine, and then try 
higher up.” 
Reaching the pool, the men sat down to 
rest. Pipes were filled and lit, and the 
tall man passed a flask to his companion, 
after taking a pull at it himself. 
“We must go light on this,” said the 
chunky one; with an appreciative smack; 
“you'll need it going home.” 
Presently he produced from his pockets 
2 things like hypertrophied firecrackers. 
Observing that he handled them rather gin- 
gerly, his friend rose suddenly and walked 
along the ledge, as though to view the 
stream. This maneuver did not escape the 
red faced man; his eyes twinkled. 
“Come here,” he cried, “and sit down 
while we arrange this thing.” 
Cal turned and came toward him—not 
too near, however—and remained standiny. 
Abijah chuckled. 
“Pooh!” he said, “when you’ve bust as 
many of these as I have, you won't be 
afraid of ’em. Now you go down the 
creek to the first riffle. All the trout we 
knock silly will float down there and you 
can gather them in with a net. Never 
mind the small ones. When you get there, 
holler. Then Ill chuck in the sudden 
death and let her zip.” 
“All right,” said Cal, evidently relieved at 
his assignment, and he disappeared in the 
direction of the riffle. Soon his voice an- 
nounced that he was on guard. 
The red faced man went to the edge of 
the rock overhanging the water. There he 
put one of the bombs in his pocket, short- 
ened the fuse of the other and, lighting it, 
tossed it deliberately into the center of the 
pool. Then he turned to run. In doing so, 
he stepped on a pebble and it rolled under 
his foot. He lost his balance, and, wildly 
flourishing his arms, fell headlong into the 
water. His splash was followed almost in- 
stantly by a muffled explosion, with a pe- 
culiar dual quality of sound. A _ great 
white column rose from the brook, hov- 
ered an instant above the tree tops, and fell 
back into the pool with a sullen roar. 
Down the single street of the hamlet of 
Blagden came, that night, a man, tall and 
loose jointed. The moon shone on his 
flushed face and lighted his eyes with a 
vitreous sheen. The limber eccentricities 
of his gait were greater than could be ac- 
counted for even by his shambling build. 
In one hand he had a long handled scap 
net; in the other, a partly filled bag, which 
