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Thursday, March 3, 2016

The Three Sams of AngeIs Camp


A large wet snowflake fell into Little Sam Newfield’s right eye and temporarily blinded him.
His right foot missed the crude wooden boards that served as sidewalks in Angels Camp. Instead, he stepped into oozing mud and sank down to his ankle.

Flapping his arms madly to regain his balance he was about to tumble headfirst into the sludge when strong arms circled his chest to puII him upright.

"Today is too cold to be taking a mud bath.”

Little Sam’s brown eyes met a pair of similarly colored eyes under wild bushy eyebrows.

“Thank you kindly,” he breathlessly cried.

“Let’s find some cover,” said the stranger.”This freezing California rain has slippery slid under my collar and is playing an icy tune down my spine.”
Quickly, they sloshed their way to the covered entry of the Angels Hotel.

There the nine- year old dried his wet face and took a good look at his rescuer.

The stranger was about 30 years old with unruly brown hair that stood straight up as he took off his felt hat and shook off the snow. In his mouth was a corncob pipe.

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