The Galleon, Volume 1, Number 1, December 1924 Page: 7
41 p. : ill. ; 22 cm.View a full description of this periodical.
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THE GALLEON
THE SHADOW.
It was just a week now since
Charley had died. Queer, lovable
Charley, with all of his foolish
ideas and strange habits was
gone forever.
Charley was just a miner like
the rest of us, but he was dif-
ferent he read books a great
deal and professed a belief in
the world of spirits. And while
the rest of us were sitting
around the table at night, play-
ing poker or discussing the
events of the day, Charley
would be poring over his books
or taking one of his strange
nightly walks. We never took
him very seriously after we got
used to him, and the boys were
always kidding him about his
"ghost hunting." But Charley
didn't seem to mind; I fancy he
even felt a little sorry for us.
And because I didn't "kid" him
like the rest of them and had a
little schooling myself, he took
a special liking to me; and when
we were alone he would often
entertain me with his vague
fantastic ideas about the other
world, strange doctrines and
theories gleaned from much
reading of spiritualist literature
and occasionally, accounts of his
own experiences in occult re-
search. I never laughed at his
beliefs, and respected his confi-
dences, and he knew it, conse-
quently we were the best of
friends.
But with all his peculiarities,
every man of us had been really
fond of Charley. And tonight,
sitting around the little table as
our custom was, there was no
poker game, nor was there any
cracking of jokes, there was on-
ly silence, and that silence was
a tribute to the queer little man
whose cot still rested in its
accustomed place in the cornerof the room.
"Al," said Tom addressing
me, "what was it Charley said
to you just before he died ?"
Mack spoke up.
"Something about meeting
him at the cemetery, weren't
it, Al?"
I nodded.
"Ya goin?"
"I don't know, boys," I said,
"what d0 you think about it ?"
"Well," Tom ventured, "I
don't see no use to it, Al, you
know how Charley was along
them lines, best little feller in
the world, but sorta off on
ghosts and speerits and things."
"Still, it was his last request,
I hate to ignore it; Charley
thought quite a bit of me, you
know. I kinda half-way promis-
ed anyhow."
"Yeah," Mack agreed, "I be-
lieve I'd go if I was you, strange
things does happen sometimes,
then, too, it won't hurt nothing
to pay this last respect, even if
nothin' don't come of it."
That settled it, I would go,. I
wouldn't be laughed at anyway;
it wasn't as if I were going out
spook hunting; I was just going
out to pay my last respects to
Charley as he had requested.
That was little enough to ask of
a friend; poor Charley who had-
n't a relative on earth that he
knew of; it was an honor that
he should consider me his best
friend, that he should ask me
above everyone else he knew, to
pay this silent visit to his last
resting place.
They had buried him in the
little cemetery, just over the
hill, hardly half a mile from our
shack. A pitiful little place it
was, just like many others in
mining camps throughout the
country, a bare plot of ground,
surrounded by a three wire
fence, and in this enclosure, like
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McMurry College. The Galleon, Volume 1, Number 1, December 1924, periodical, December 1924; Abilene, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth137771/m1/7/: accessed April 27, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu; crediting McMurry University Library.