THE PEACE THAT CAME TO HIM.
FROM THE NORTHWEST MAGAZINE.
A man barely twenty-one sat in the corridor
oi a western jail and a smootn-iaced, keen-eyed
reporter was trying to interview mm. A week
beiore a small out suspiciously heavy box nad
come down on the stage from Oonconnuiiy
marked "Mining Specimens," and snipped to
'•jonii lanuan. ' me express agent examined
it caretuily and then made a wager with tne
stage driver that it was opium; later he discov
ered, to his astonishment, that it did contain
well-packed cans oi . that article, unmarked ny
the government seal.
'And now the reporter was trying to interview-
John Crandall,who sat with a white drawn lace,
his chin resting on ins breast, his dark eyes on
the grimy lioor, giving no more attention to the
little' reporter than to one of the hies that
crawled lazily along the grated window near.
The reporter turned away in disgust; he did
not like to be beaten, but he could not ques
the wait. ; A woman among the prisoners tnrew
down her cards and begged some cigarettes of
him as he passed out. Another woman, insane,
who was waiting to be taken away to the asylum,
got up from a cot and pleaded to be taken home
to her children.
"The neigh uors put me here," she wailed,
"but the children need me." . •
The opium smuggler shivered slightly at the
"Pretty tough lot," said the reporter, when
he was iinally out in the jailor's ottice.
"Yes; pretty bad. Make anything of your
"Not much," the reporter replied, cautiously.
"Rather bad man, 1 should think."
"Well, you can't tell," answered the official in
a non-committal way. "He has a peculiar ring;
I took it to keep for him." And opening a
drawer, the jailor produced a seal ring upon
which was the motto:—"Proprio Mart'e."
"Odd," . commented the reporter, making a
note of the motto.
The next day the paper said there was no
doubt that the opium smuggler was a well
known criminal from San Francisco, who had
lived under several aliases.
In the meantime the only thought that the
man in the } ail was able to cling to was to con
ceal his real name and keep his disgrace from
his mother. Sdarcely a . year before liel had
come out to Washington while he was in his
junior.year in a western college. He was a
western boy, but with all the traditions of a
-. family that had once possesed wealth and po-.
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Cornish, Curtis & Greene, St Paul, Minn.
sition in an eastern home. His father had died
when he was a child, and his little mother had
made heroic efforts to educate her boy.
Poor health, however, had compelled him'to
leave school, and he had come out to Washing
ton to recuperate and to pre-empt some land.
Late in the spring he was taken sick with fever,
and an old prosepcctor had found him delirious
and had nursed him back to convalescence. Be
fore he could lift his head from the pillow
cheering news of the "boom" came to him, and
he lay and listened to the sound of hammers in
the wooden metropolis that had sprung up ad
joining his claim. Then, just as he could creep
to the door of the shack, he had an offer for the
place, and as soon as it was sold he started for
He had gone over to the Sound cities, intend
ing to go up to Victoria and home by the Ca
nadian Pacific. While at Tacoma lie had spent
more money than he had purposed, part of it
for a seal ring, with his family motto on it,
which he looked at with a great deal of compla
cency; and so it happened that when his first
check was drawn on the bank at Yakima he
was suddenly seized with a panic, the amount
of money he had left seemed so insignificant.
It would barely take him through the rest of his
college course, and then the struggle would
At that time the country was rife with spec
ulation; people talked incessantly of doubling
If he could only double his money he would
be all right.
By and by he heard men talking on the boat
of how you could buy opium for a few dollars
a pound in Victoria and by taking it down \to
San Francisco sell it for twenty dollars a pound.
Alas for human, fraility! One evening, jstill
weak in mind and body from his long illness,
from which he had scarcely recovered, and
hardly knowing what he did, he entered an
opium factory in Victoria. When he came out
he was the owner of one hundred of those little
pound cans of opium.
* * * *
John Curtis never had a very distinct idea
of his trip back on the Canadian Pacific to
One clay a haggard-faced prospector with two
tired cayuses rode into a mining town in one
of the northern counties of Washington. Here
he had sold his pack pony and sent his box on
by express. It had been easy crossing the line.
Not so much as a. deer had been seen in the
pine woods. And this was the end—the dark
corridors of a jail!
Curtis had sent for a lawyer, who told him
that his case was hopeless; so all his energy was
put forth in an attempt to conceal his identity.
His' fever returned to plague him during his
first night in jail, and he was pitifully weak
when, a few days later, the trial came off.
He pleaded guilty, and the judge sentenced
John Crandall to two years in the penitentiary.
Tw rentv-four months later a man was dis
charged from the prison on McNeil's island.
That night a man pawned his watch in Seattle
and bought a ticket for as far over the moun
tains as his money would carry him. It was
Jack Curtis trying to get back to Yakima,
Continued on Page 12.
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