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diff --git a/old/2851.txt b/old/2851.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..aa45f41 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/2851.txt @@ -0,0 +1,7815 @@ +The Project Gutenberg eBook, Sixes and Sevens, by O. Henry + + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + + + + +Title: Sixes and Sevens + The Last of the Troubadours; The Sleuths; Witches' Loaves; The Pride of the Cities; Holding Up a Train; Ulysses and the Dogman; The Champion of the Weather; Makes the Whole World Kin; At Arms with Morpheus; A Ghost of a Chance; Jimmy Hayes and Muriel; The Door of Unrest; The Duplicity of Hargraves; Let Me Feel Your Pulse; October and June; The Church with an Overshot-Wheel; New York by Camp Fire Light; The Adventures of Shamrock Jolnes; The Lady Higher Up; The Greater Coney; Law and Order; Transformation of Martin Burney; The Caliph and the Cad; The Diamond of Kali; The Day We Celebrate + + +Author: O. Henry + + +Release Date: August 14, 2000 [eBook #2851] +Most recently updated: October 24, 2005 + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: ISO-646-US (US-ASCII) + + +***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIXES AND SEVENS*** + + +E-text prepared by Glynn Burleson +and revised by Joseph E. Loewenstein, M.D. + + + +SIXES AND SEVENS + +by + +O. HENRY + + + + + + + +CONTENTS + + I. THE LAST OF THE TROUBADOURS + II. THE SLEUTHS + III. WITCHES' LOAVES + IV. THE PRIDE OF THE CITIES + V. HOLDING UP A TRAIN + VI. ULYSSES AND THE DOGMAN + VII. THE CHAMPION OF THE WEATHER + VIII. MAKES THE WHOLE WORLD KIN + IX. AT ARMS WITH MORPHEUS + X. A GHOST OF A CHANCE + XI. JIMMY HAYES AND MURIEL + XII. THE DOOR OF UNREST + XIII. THE DUPLICITY OF HARGRAVES + XIV. LET ME FEEL YOUR PULSE + XV. OCTOBER AND JUNE + XVI. THE CHURCH WITH AN OVERSHOT-WHEEL + XVII. NEW YORK BY CAMP FIRE LIGHT + XVIII. THE ADVENTURES OF SHAMROCK JOLNES + XIX. THE LADY HIGHER UP + XX. THE GREATER CONEY + XXI. LAW AND ORDER + XXII. TRANSFORMATION OF MARTIN BURNEY + XXIII. THE CALIPH AND THE CAD + XXIV. THE DIAMOND OF KALI + XXV. THE DAY WE CELEBRATE + + + + +I + +THE LAST OF THE TROUBADOURS + + +Inexorably Sam Galloway saddled his pony. He was going away from the +Rancho Altito at the end of a three-months' visit. It is not to be +expected that a guest should put up with wheat coffee and biscuits +yellow-streaked with saleratus for longer than that. Nick Napoleon, +the big Negro man cook, had never been able to make good biscuits. +Once before, when Nick was cooking at the Willow Ranch, Sam had been +forced to fly from his _cuisine_, after only a six-weeks' sojourn. + +On Sam's face was an expression of sorrow, deepened with regret and +slightly tempered by the patient forgiveness of a connoisseur who +cannot be understood. But very firmly and inexorably he buckled his +saddle-cinches, looped his stake-rope and hung it to his saddle-horn, +tied his slicker and coat on the cantle, and looped his quirt on his +right wrist. The Merrydews (householders of the Rancho Altito), men, +women, children, and servants, vassals, visitors, employes, dogs, and +casual callers were grouped in the "gallery" of the ranch house, all +with faces set to the tune of melancholy and grief. For, as the coming +of Sam Galloway to any ranch, camp, or cabin between the rivers Frio +or Bravo del Norte aroused joy, so his departure caused mourning and +distress. + +And then, during absolute silence, except for the bumping of a hind +elbow of a hound dog as he pursued a wicked flea, Sam tenderly and +carefully tied his guitar across his saddle on top of his slicker and +coat. The guitar was in a green duck bag; and if you catch the +significance of it, it explains Sam. + +Sam Galloway was the Last of the Troubadours. Of course you know about +the troubadours. The encyclopaedia says they flourished between the +eleventh and the thirteenth centuries. What they flourished doesn't +seem clear--you may be pretty sure it wasn't a sword: maybe it was a +fiddlebow, or a forkful of spaghetti, or a lady's scarf. Anyhow, Sam +Galloway was one of 'em. + +Sam put on a martyred expression as he mounted his pony. But the +expression on his face was hilarious compared with the one on his +pony's. You see, a pony gets to know his rider mighty well, and it is +not unlikely that cow ponies in pastures and at hitching racks had +often guyed Sam's pony for being ridden by a guitar player instead of +by a rollicking, cussing, all-wool cowboy. No man is a hero to his +saddle-horse. And even an escalator in a department store might be +excused for tripping up a troubadour. + +Oh, I know I'm one; and so are you. You remember the stories you +memorize and the card tricks you study and that little piece on the +piano--how does it go?--ti-tum-te-tum-ti-tum--those little Arabian Ten +Minute Entertainments that you furnish when you go up to call on your +rich Aunt Jane. You should know that _omnae personae in tres partes +divisae sunt_. Namely: Barons, Troubadours, and Workers. Barons have no +inclination to read such folderol as this; and Workers have no time: +so I know you must be a Troubadour, and that you will understand Sam +Galloway. Whether we sing, act, dance, write, lecture, or paint, we +are only troubadours; so let us make the worst of it. + +The pony with the Dante Alighieri face, guided by the pressure of +Sam's knees, bore that wandering minstrel sixteen miles southeastward. +Nature was in her most benignant mood. League after league of +delicate, sweet flowerets made fragrant the gently undulating +prairie. The east wind tempered the spring warmth; wool-white clouds +flying in from the Mexican Gulf hindered the direct rays of the April +sun. Sam sang songs as he rode. Under his pony's bridle he had tucked +some sprigs of chaparral to keep away the deer flies. Thus crowned, +the long-faced quadruped looked more Dantesque than before, and, +judging by his countenance, seemed to think of Beatrice. + +Straight as topography permitted, Sam rode to the sheep ranch of old +man Ellison. A visit to a sheep ranch seemed to him desirable just +then. There had been too many people, too much noise, argument, +competition, confusion, at Rancho Altito. He had never conferred upon +old man Ellison the favour of sojourning at his ranch; but he knew he +would be welcome. The troubadour is his own passport everywhere. The +Workers in the castle let down the drawbridge to him, and the Baron +sets him at his left hand at table in the banquet hall. There ladies +smile upon him and applaud his songs and stories, while the Workers +bring boars' heads and flagons. If the Baron nods once or twice in his +carved oaken chair, he does not do it maliciously. + +Old man Ellison welcomed the troubadour flatteringly. He had often +heard praises of Sam Galloway from other ranchmen who had been +complimented by his visits, but had never aspired to such an honour +for his own humble barony. I say barony because old man Ellison +was the Last of the Barons. Of course, Mr. Bulwer-Lytton lived too +early to know him, or he wouldn't have conferred that sobriquet +upon Warwick. In life it is the duty and the function of the Baron +to provide work for the Workers and lodging and shelter for the +Troubadours. + +Old man Ellison was a shrunken old man, with a short, yellow-white +beard and a face lined and seamed by past-and-gone smiles. His ranch +was a little two-room box house in a grove of hackberry trees in the +lonesomest part of the sheep country. His household consisted of a +Kiowa Indian man cook, four hounds, a pet sheep, and a half-tamed +coyote chained to a fence-post. He owned 3,000 sheep, which he ran +on two sections of leased land and many thousands of acres neither +leased nor owned. Three or four times a year some one who spoke his +language would ride up to his gate and exchange a few bald ideas with +him. Those were red-letter days to old man Ellison. Then in what +illuminated, embossed, and gorgeously decorated capitals must have +been written the day on which a troubadour--a troubadour who, +according to the encyclopaedia, should have flourished between the +eleventh and the thirteenth centuries--drew rein at the gates of his +baronial castle! + +Old man Ellison's smiles came back and filled his wrinkles when he +saw Sam. He hurried out of the house in his shuffling, limping way to +greet him. + +"Hello, Mr. Ellison," called Sam cheerfully. "Thought I'd drop over +and see you a while. Notice you've had fine rains on your range. They +ought to make good grazing for your spring lambs." + +"Well, well, well," said old man Ellison. "I'm mighty glad to see +you, Sam. I never thought you'd take the trouble to ride over to +as out-of-the-way an old ranch as this. But you're mighty welcome. +'Light. I've got a sack of new oats in the kitchen--shall I bring out +a feed for your hoss?" + +"Oats for him?" said Sam, derisively. "No, sir-ee. He's as fat as a +pig now on grass. He don't get rode enough to keep him in condition. +I'll just turn him in the horse pasture with a drag rope on if you +don't mind." + +I am positive that never during the eleventh and thirteenth centuries +did Baron, Troubadour, and Worker amalgamate as harmoniously as their +parallels did that evening at old man Ellison's sheep ranch. The +Kiowa's biscuits were light and tasty and his coffee strong. +Ineradicable hospitality and appreciation glowed on old man Ellison's +weather-tanned face. As for the troubadour, he said to himself that +he had stumbled upon pleasant places indeed. A well-cooked, abundant +meal, a host whom his lightest attempt to entertain seemed to delight +far beyond the merits of the exertion, and the reposeful atmosphere +that his sensitive soul at that time craved united to confer upon him +a satisfaction and luxurious ease that he had seldom found on his +tours of the ranches. + +After the delectable supper, Sam untied the green duck bag and took +out his guitar. Not by way of payment, mind you--neither Sam Galloway +nor any other of the true troubadours are lineal descendants of the +late Tommy Tucker. You have read of Tommy Tucker in the works of the +esteemed but often obscure Mother Goose. Tommy Tucker sang for his +supper. No true troubadour would do that. He would have his supper, +and then sing for Art's sake. + +Sam Galloway's repertoire comprised about fifty funny stories and +between thirty and forty songs. He by no means stopped there. He could +talk through twenty cigarettes on any topic that you brought up. And +he never sat up when he could lie down; and never stood when he could +sit. I am strongly disposed to linger with him, for I am drawing a +portrait as well as a blunt pencil and a tattered thesaurus will +allow. + +I wish you could have seen him: he was small and tough and +inactive beyond the power of imagination to conceive. He wore an +ultramarine-blue woollen shirt laced down the front with a pearl-gray, +exaggerated sort of shoestring, indestructible brown duck clothes, +inevitable high-heeled boots with Mexican spurs, and a Mexican straw +sombrero. + +That evening Sam and old man Ellison dragged their chairs out under +the hackberry trees. They lighted cigarettes; and the troubadour +gaily touched his guitar. Many of the songs he sang were the weird, +melancholy, minor-keyed _canciones_ that he had learned from the +Mexican sheep herders and _vaqueros_. One, in particular, charmed and +soothed the soul of the lonely baron. It was a favourite song of the +sheep herders, beginning: "_Huile, huile, palomita_," which being +translated means, "Fly, fly, little dove." Sam sang it for old man +Ellison many times that evening. + +The troubadour stayed on at the old man's ranch. There was peace and +quiet and appreciation there, such as he had not found in the noisy +camps of the cattle kings. No audience in the world could have crowned +the work of poet, musician, or artist with more worshipful and +unflagging approval than that bestowed upon his efforts by old man +Ellison. No visit by a royal personage to a humble woodchopper or +peasant could have been received with more flattering thankfulness and +joy. + +On a cool, canvas-covered cot in the shade of the hackberry trees Sam +Galloway passed the greater part of his time. There he rolled his +brown paper cigarettes, read such tedious literature as the ranch +afforded, and added to his repertoire of improvisations that he played +so expertly on his guitar. To him, as a slave ministering to a great +lord, the Kiowa brought cool water from the red jar hanging under the +brush shelter, and food when he called for it. The prairie zephyrs +fanned him mildly; mocking-birds at morn and eve competed with but +scarce equalled the sweet melodies of his lyre; a perfumed stillness +seemed to fill all his world. While old man Ellison was pottering +among his flocks of sheep on his mile-an-hour pony, and while the +Kiowa took his siesta in the burning sunshine at the end of the +kitchen, Sam would lie on his cot thinking what a happy world he lived +in, and how kind it is to the ones whose mission in life it is to give +entertainment and pleasure. Here he had food and lodging as good as +he had ever longed for; absolute immunity from care or exertion or +strife; an endless welcome, and a host whose delight at the sixteenth +repetition of a song or a story was as keen as at its initial giving. +Was there ever a troubadour of old who struck upon as royal a castle +in his wanderings? While he lay thus, meditating upon his blessings, +little brown cottontails would shyly frolic through the yard; a covey +of white-topknotted blue quail would run past, in single file, twenty +yards away; a _paisano_ bird, out hunting for tarantulas, would hop +upon the fence and salute him with sweeping flourishes of its long +tail. In the eighty-acre horse pasture the pony with the Dantesque +face grew fat and almost smiling. The troubadour was at the end of his +wanderings. + +Old man Ellison was his own _vaciero_. That means that he supplied his +sheep camps with wood, water, and rations by his own labours instead +of hiring a _vaciero_. On small ranches it is often done. + +One morning he started for the camp of Incarnacion Felipe de la Cruz y +Monte Piedras (one of his sheep herders) with the week's usual rations +of brown beans, coffee, meal, and sugar. Two miles away on the trail +from old Fort Ewing he met, face to face, a terrible being called King +James, mounted on a fiery, prancing, Kentucky-bred horse. + +King James's real name was James King; but people reversed it because +it seemed to fit him better, and also because it seemed to please his +majesty. King James was the biggest cattleman between the Alamo plaza +in San Antone and Bill Hopper's saloon in Brownsville. Also he was the +loudest and most offensive bully and braggart and bad man in southwest +Texas. And he always made good whenever he bragged; and the more noise +he made the more dangerous he was. In the story papers it is always +the quiet, mild-mannered man with light blue eyes and a low voice who +turns out to be really dangerous; but in real life and in this story +such is not the case. Give me my choice between assaulting a large, +loudmouthed rough-houser and an inoffensive stranger with blue eyes +sitting quietly in a corner, and you will see something doing in the +corner every time. + +King James, as I intended to say earlier, was a fierce, +two-hundred-pound, sunburned, blond man, as pink as an October +strawberry, and with two horizontal slits under shaggy red eyebrows +for eyes. On that day he wore a flannel shirt that was tan-coloured, +with the exception of certain large areas which were darkened by +transudations due to the summer sun. There seemed to be other clothing +and garnishings about him, such as brown duck trousers stuffed into +immense boots, and red handkerchiefs and revolvers; and a shotgun +laid across his saddle and a leather belt with millions of cartridges +shining in it--but your mind skidded off such accessories; what held +your gaze was just the two little horizontal slits that he used for +eyes. + +This was the man that old man Ellison met on the trail; and when you +count up in the baron's favour that he was sixty-five and weighed +ninety-eight pounds and had heard of King James's record and that he +(the baron) had a hankering for the _vita simplex_ and had no gun with +him and wouldn't have used it if he had, you can't censure him if I +tell you that the smiles with which the troubadour had filled his +wrinkles went out of them and left them plain wrinkles again. But he +was not the kind of baron that flies from danger. He reined in the +mile-an-hour pony (no difficult feat), and saluted the formidable +monarch. + +King James expressed himself with royal directness. "You're that old +snoozer that's running sheep on this range, ain't you?" said he. "What +right have you got to do it? Do you own any land, or lease any?" + +"I have two sections leased from the state," said old man Ellison, +mildly. + +"Not by no means you haven't," said King James. "Your lease expired +yesterday; and I had a man at the land office on the minute to take it +up. You don't control a foot of grass in Texas. You sheep men have got +to git. Your time's up. It's a cattle country, and there ain't any +room in it for snoozers. This range you've got your sheep on is mine. +I'm putting up a wire fence, forty by sixty miles; and if there's a +sheep inside of it when it's done it'll be a dead one. I'll give you a +week to move yours away. If they ain't gone by then, I'll send six men +over here with Winchesters to make mutton out of the whole lot. And if +I find you here at the same time this is what you'll get." + +King James patted the breech of his shot-gun warningly. + +Old man Ellison rode on to the camp of Incarnacion. He sighed many +times, and the wrinkles in his face grew deeper. Rumours that the +old order was about to change had reached him before. The end of +Free Grass was in sight. Other troubles, too, had been accumulating +upon his shoulders. His flocks were decreasing instead of growing; +the price of wool was declining at every clip; even Bradshaw, the +storekeeper at Frio City, at whose store he bought his ranch supplies, +was dunning him for his last six months' bill and threatening to cut +him off. And so this last greatest calamity suddenly dealt out to him +by the terrible King James was a crusher. + +When the old man got back to the ranch at sunset he found Sam Galloway +lying on his cot, propped against a roll of blankets and wool sacks, +fingering his guitar. + +"Hello, Uncle Ben," the troubadour called, cheerfully. "You rolled in +early this evening. I been trying a new twist on the Spanish Fandango +to-day. I just about got it. Here's how she goes--listen." + +"That's fine, that's mighty fine," said old man Ellison, sitting on +the kitchen step and rubbing his white, Scotch-terrier whiskers. "I +reckon you've got all the musicians beat east and west, Sam, as far +as the roads are cut out." + +"Oh, I don't know," said Sam, reflectively. "But I certainly do get +there on variations. I guess I can handle anything in five flats +about as well as any of 'em. But you look kind of fagged out, Uncle +Ben--ain't you feeling right well this evening?" + +"Little tired; that's all, Sam. If you ain't played yourself out, +let's have that Mexican piece that starts off with: '_Huile, huile, +palomita_.' It seems that that song always kind of soothes and +comforts me after I've been riding far or anything bothers me." + +"Why, _seguramente, senor_," said Sam. "I'll hit her up for you as +often as you like. And before I forget about it, Uncle Ben, you want +to jerk Bradshaw up about them last hams he sent us. They're just a +little bit strong." + +A man sixty-five years old, living on a sheep ranch and beset by +a complication of disasters, cannot successfully and continuously +dissemble. Moreover, a troubadour has eyes quick to see unhappiness in +others around him--because it disturbs his own ease. So, on the next +day, Sam again questioned the old man about his air of sadness and +abstraction. Then old man Ellison told him the story of King James's +threats and orders and that pale melancholy and red ruin appeared +to have marked him for their own. The troubadour took the news +thoughtfully. He had heard much about King James. + +On the third day of the seven days of grace allowed him by the +autocrat of the range, old man Ellison drove his buckboard to Frio +City to fetch some necessary supplies for the ranch. Bradshaw was hard +but not implacable. He divided the old man's order by two, and let him +have a little more time. One article secured was a new, fine ham for +the pleasure of the troubadour. + +Five miles out of Frio City on his way home the old man met King James +riding into town. His majesty could never look anything but fierce and +menacing, but to-day his slits of eyes appeared to be a little wider +than they usually were. + +"Good day," said the king, gruffly. "I've been wanting to see you. +I hear it said by a cowman from Sandy yesterday that you was from +Jackson County, Mississippi, originally. I want to know if that's a +fact." + +"Born there," said old man Ellison, "and raised there till I was +twenty-one." + +"This man says," went on King James, "that he thinks you was related +to the Jackson County Reeveses. Was he right?" + +"Aunt Caroline Reeves," said the old man, "was my half-sister." + +"She was my aunt," said King James. "I run away from home when I was +sixteen. Now, let's re-talk over some things that we discussed a few +days ago. They call me a bad man; and they're only half right. There's +plenty of room in my pasture for your bunch of sheep and their +increase for a long time to come. Aunt Caroline used to cut out sheep +in cake dough and bake 'em for me. You keep your sheep where they are, +and use all the range you want. How's your finances?" + +The old man related his woes in detail, dignifiedly, with restraint +and candour. + +"She used to smuggle extra grub into my school basket--I'm speaking of +Aunt Caroline," said King James. "I'm going over to Frio City to-day, +and I'll ride back by your ranch to-morrow. I'll draw $2,000 out of +the bank there and bring it over to you; and I'll tell Bradshaw to let +you have everything you want on credit. You are bound to have heard +the old saying at home, that the Jackson County Reeveses and Kings +would stick closer by each other than chestnut burrs. Well, I'm a +King yet whenever I run across a Reeves. So you look out for me along +about sundown to-morrow, and don't worry about nothing. Shouldn't +wonder if the dry spell don't kill out the young grass." + +Old man Ellison drove happily ranchward. Once more the smiles filled +out his wrinkles. Very suddenly, by the magic of kinship and the good +that lies somewhere in all hearts, his troubles had been removed. + +On reaching the ranch he found that Sam Galloway was not there. His +guitar hung by its buckskin string to a hackberry limb, moaning as the +gulf breeze blew across its masterless strings. + +The Kiowa endeavoured to explain. + +"Sam, he catch pony," said he, "and say he ride to Frio City. What for +no can damn sabe. Say he come back to-night. Maybe so. That all." + +As the first stars came out the troubadour rode back to his haven. He +pastured his pony and went into the house, his spurs jingling +martially. + +Old man Ellison sat at the kitchen table, having a tin cup of +before-supper coffee. He looked contented and pleased. + +"Hello, Sam," said he. "I'm darned glad to see ye back. I don't know +how I managed to get along on this ranch, anyhow, before ye dropped in +to cheer things up. I'll bet ye've been skylarking around with some of +them Frio City gals, now, that's kept ye so late." + +And then old man Ellison took another look at Sam's face and saw that +the minstrel had changed to the man of action. + +And while Sam is unbuckling from his waist old man Ellison's +six-shooter, that the latter had left behind when he drove to town, we +may well pause to remark that anywhere and whenever a troubadour lays +down the guitar and takes up the sword trouble is sure to follow. It +is not the expert thrust of Athos nor the cold skill of Aramis nor +the iron wrist of Porthos that we have to fear--it is the Gascon's +fury--the wild and unacademic attack of the troubadour--the sword of +D'Artagnan. + +"I done it," said Sam. "I went over to Frio City to do it. I couldn't +let him put the skibunk on you, Uncle Ben. I met him in Summers's +saloon. I knowed what to do. I said a few things to him that nobody +else heard. He reached for his gun first--half a dozen fellows saw him +do it--but I got mine unlimbered first. Three doses I gave him--right +around the lungs, and a saucer could have covered up all of 'em. He +won't bother you no more." + +"This--is--King--James--you speak--of?" asked old man Ellison, while +he sipped his coffee. + +"You bet it was. And they took me before the county judge; and the +witnesses what saw him draw his gun first was all there. Well, of +course, they put me under $300 bond to appear before the court, but +there was four or five boys on the spot ready to sign the bail. He +won't bother you no more, Uncle Ben. You ought to have seen how close +them bullet holes was together. I reckon playing a guitar as much as +I do must kind of limber a fellow's trigger finger up a little, don't +you think, Uncle Ben?" + +Then there was a little silence in the castle except for the +spluttering of a venison steak that the Kiowa was cooking. + +"Sam," said old man Ellison, stroking his white whiskers with a +tremulous hand, "would you mind getting the guitar and playing that +'_Huile, huile, palomita_' piece once or twice? It always seems to be +kind of soothing and comforting when a man's tired and fagged out." + +There is no more to be said, except that the title of the story is +wrong. It should have been called "The Last of the Barons." There +never will be an end to the troubadours; and now and then it does seem +that the jingle of their guitars will drown the sound of the muffled +blows of the pickaxes and trip hammers of all the Workers in the +world. + + + + +II + +THE SLEUTHS + + +In The Big City a man will disappear with the suddenness and +completeness of the flame of a candle that is blown out. All the +agencies of inquisition--the hounds of the trail, the sleuths of the +city's labyrinths, the closet detectives of theory and induction--will +be invoked to the search. Most often the man's face will be seen no +more. Sometimes he will reappear in Sheboygan or in the wilds of Terre +Haute, calling himself one of the synonyms of "Smith," and without +memory of events up to a certain time, including his grocer's bill. +Sometimes it will be found, after dragging the rivers, and polling the +restaurants to see if he may be waiting for a well-done sirloin, that +he has moved next door. + +This snuffing out of a human being like the erasure of a chalk man +from a blackboard is one of the most impressive themes in dramaturgy. + +The case of Mary Snyder, in point, should not be without interest. + +A man of middle age, of the name of Meeks, came from the West to New +York to find his sister, Mrs. Mary Snyder, a widow, aged fifty-two, +who had been living for a year in a tenement house in a crowded +neighbourhood. + +At her address he was told that Mary Snyder had moved away longer than +a month before. No one could tell him her new address. + +On coming out Mr. Meeks addressed a policeman who was standing on the +corner, and explained his dilemma. + +"My sister is very poor," he said, "and I am anxious to find her. I +have recently made quite a lot of money in a lead mine, and I want her +to share my prosperity. There is no use in advertising her, because +she cannot read." + +The policeman pulled his moustache and looked so thoughtful and mighty +that Meeks could almost feel the joyful tears of his sister Mary +dropping upon his bright blue tie. + +"You go down in the Canal Street neighbourhood," said the policeman, +"and get a job drivin' the biggest dray you can find. There's old +women always gettin' knocked over by drays down there. You might see +'er among 'em. If you don't want to do that you better go 'round to +headquarters and get 'em to put a fly cop onto the dame." + +At police headquarters, Meeks received ready assistance. A general +alarm was sent out, and copies of a photograph of Mary Snyder that her +brother had were distributed among the stations. In Mulberry Street +the chief assigned Detective Mullins to the case. + +The detective took Meeks aside and said: + +"This is not a very difficult case to unravel. Shave off your +whiskers, fill your pockets with good cigars, and meet me in the cafe +of the Waldorf at three o'clock this afternoon." + +Meeks obeyed. He found Mullins there. They had a bottle of wine, while +the detective asked questions concerning the missing woman. + +"Now," said Mullins, "New York is a big city, but we've got the +detective business systematized. There are two ways we can go about +finding your sister. We will try one of 'em first. You say she's +fifty-two?" + +"A little past," said Meeks. + +The detective conducted the Westerner to a branch advertising office +of one of the largest dailies. There he wrote the following "ad" and +submitted it to Meeks: + +"Wanted, at once--one hundred attractive chorus girls for a new +musical comedy. Apply all day at No. ---- Broadway." + +Meeks was indignant. + +"My sister," said he, "is a poor, hard-working, elderly woman. I do +not see what aid an advertisement of this kind would be toward finding +her." + +"All right," said the detective. "I guess you don't know New York. But +if you've got a grouch against this scheme we'll try the other one. +It's a sure thing. But it'll cost you more." + +"Never mind the expense," said Meeks; "we'll try it." + +The sleuth led him back to the Waldorf. "Engage a couple of bedrooms +and a parlour," he advised, "and let's go up." + +This was done, and the two were shown to a superb suite on the fourth +floor. Meeks looked puzzled. The detective sank into a velvet +armchair, and pulled out his cigar case. + +"I forgot to suggest, old man," he said, "that you should have taken +the rooms by the month. They wouldn't have stuck you so much for 'em. + +"By the month!" exclaimed Meeks. "What do you mean?" + +"Oh, it'll take time to work the game this way. I told you it would +cost you more. We'll have to wait till spring. There'll be a new city +directory out then. Very likely your sister's name and address will be +in it." + +Meeks rid himself of the city detective at once. On the next day some +one advised him to consult Shamrock Jolnes, New York's famous private +detective, who demanded fabulous fees, but performed miracles in the +way of solving mysteries and crimes. + +After waiting for two hours in the anteroom of the great detective's +apartment, Meeks was shown into his presence. Jolnes sat in a purple +dressing-gown at an inlaid ivory chess table, with a magazine before +him, trying to solve the mystery of "They." The famous sleuth's thin, +intellectual face, piercing eyes, and rate per word are too well known +to need description. + +Meeks set forth his errand. "My fee, if successful, will be $500," +said Shamrock Jolnes. + +Meeks bowed his agreement to the price. + +"I will undertake your case, Mr. Meeks," said Jolnes, finally. "The +disappearance of people in this city has always been an interesting +problem to me. I remember a case that I brought to a successful +outcome a year ago. A family bearing the name of Clark disappeared +suddenly from a small flat in which they were living. I watched the +flat building for two months for a clue. One day it struck me that a +certain milkman and a grocer's boy always walked backward when they +carried their wares upstairs. Following out by induction the idea that +this observation gave me, I at once located the missing family. They +had moved into the flat across the hall and changed their name to +Kralc." + +Shamrock Jolnes and his client went to the tenement house where Mary +Snyder had lived, and the detective demanded to be shown the room in +which she had lived. It had been occupied by no tenant since her +disappearance. + +The room was small, dingy, and poorly furnished. Meeks seated himself +dejectedly on a broken chair, while the great detective searched the +walls and floor and the few sticks of old, rickety furniture for a +clue. + +At the end of half an hour Jolnes had collected a few seemingly +unintelligible articles--a cheap black hat pin, a piece torn off a +theatre programme, and the end of a small torn card on which was the +word "left" and the characters "C 12." + +Shamrock Jolnes leaned against the mantel for ten minutes, with his +head resting upon his hand, and an absorbed look upon his intellectual +face. At the end of that time he exclaimed, with animation: + +"Come, Mr. Meeks; the problem is solved. I can take you directly to +the house where your sister is living. And you may have no fears +concerning her welfare, for she is amply provided with funds--for the +present at least." + +Meeks felt joy and wonder in equal proportions. + +"How did you manage it?" he asked, with admiration in his tones. + +Perhaps Jolnes's only weakness was a professional pride in his +wonderful achievements in induction. He was ever ready to astound and +charm his listeners by describing his methods. + +"By elimination," said Jolnes, spreading his clues upon a little +table, "I got rid of certain parts of the city to which Mrs. Snyder +might have removed. You see this hatpin? That eliminates Brooklyn. No +woman attempts to board a car at the Brooklyn Bridge without being +sure that she carries a hatpin with which to fight her way into a +seat. And now I will demonstrate to you that she could not have gone +to Harlem. Behind this door are two hooks in the wall. Upon one of +these Mrs. Snyder has hung her bonnet, and upon the other her shawl. +You will observe that the bottom of the hanging shawl has gradually +made a soiled streak against the plastered wall. The mark is +clean-cut, proving that there is no fringe on the shawl. Now, was +there ever a case where a middle-aged woman, wearing a shawl, boarded +a Harlem train without there being a fringe on the shawl to catch in +the gate and delay the passengers behind her? So we eliminate Harlem. + +"Therefore I conclude that Mrs. Snyder has not moved very far away. +On this torn piece of card you see the word 'Left,' the letter 'C,' +and the number '12.' Now, I happen to know that No. 12 Avenue C is +a first-class boarding house, far beyond your sister's means--as we +suppose. But then I find this piece of a theatre programme, crumpled +into an odd shape. What meaning does it convey. None to you, very +likely, Mr. Meeks; but it is eloquent to one whose habits and training +take cognizance of the smallest things. + +"You have told me that your sister was a scrub woman. She scrubbed the +floors of offices and hallways. Let us assume that she procured such +work to perform in a theatre. Where is valuable jewellery lost the +oftenest, Mr. Meeks? In the theatres, of course. Look at that piece of +programme, Mr. Meeks. Observe the round impression in it. It has been +wrapped around a ring--perhaps a ring of great value. Mrs. Snyder +found the ring while at work in the theatre. She hastily tore off a +piece of a programme, wrapped the ring carefully, and thrust it into +her bosom. The next day she disposed of it, and, with her increased +means, looked about her for a more comfortable place in which to live. +When I reach thus far in the chain I see nothing impossible about No. +12 Avenue C. It is there we will find your sister, Mr. Meeks." + +Shamrock Jolnes concluded his convincing speech with the smile of +a successful artist. Meeks's admiration was too great for words. +Together they went to No. 12 Avenue C. It was an old-fashioned +brownstone house in a prosperous and respectable neighbourhood. + +They rang the bell, and on inquiring were told that no Mrs. Snyder was +known there, and that not within six months had a new occupant come to +the house. + +When they reached the sidewalk again, Meeks examined the clues which +he had brought away from his sister's old room. + +"I am no detective," he remarked to Jolnes as he raised the piece of +theatre programme to his nose, "but it seems to me that instead of +a ring having been wrapped in this paper it was one of those round +peppermint drops. And this piece with the address on it looks to me +like the end of a seat coupon--No. 12, row C, left aisle." + +Shamrock Jolnes had a far-away look in his eyes. + +"I think you would do well to consult Juggins," said he. + +"Who is Juggins?" asked Meeks. + +"He is the leader," said Jolnes, "of a new modern school of +detectives. Their methods are different from ours, but it is said that +Juggins has solved some extremely puzzling cases. I will take you to +him." + +They found the greater Juggins in his office. He was a small man with +light hair, deeply absorbed in reading one of the bourgeois works of +Nathaniel Hawthorne. + +The two great detectives of different schools shook hands with +ceremony, and Meeks was introduced. + +"State the facts," said Juggins, going on with his reading. + +When Meeks ceased, the greater one closed his book and said: + +"Do I understand that your sister is fifty-two years of age, with a +large mole on the side of her nose, and that she is a very poor widow, +making a scanty living by scrubbing, and with a very homely face and +figure?" + +"That describes her exactly," admitted Meeks. Juggins rose and put on +his hat. + +"In fifteen minutes," he said, "I will return, bringing you her +present address." + +Shamrock Jolnes turned pale, but forced a smile. + +Within the specified time Juggins returned and consulted a little slip +of paper held in his hand. + +"Your sister, Mary Snyder," he announced calmly, "will be found at +No. 162 Chilton street. She is living in the back hall bedroom, five +flights up. The house is only four blocks from here," he continued, +addressing Meeks. "Suppose you go and verify the statement and then +return here. Mr. Jolnes will await you, I dare say." + +Meeks hurried away. In twenty minutes he was back again, with a +beaming face. + +"She is there and well!" he cried. "Name your fee!" + +"Two dollars," said Juggins. + +When Meeks had settled his bill and departed, Shamrock Jolnes stood +with his hat in his hand before Juggins. + +"If it would not be asking too much," he stammered--"if you would +favour me so far--would you object to--" + +"Certainly not," said Juggins pleasantly. "I will tell you how I did +it. You remember the description of Mrs. Snyder? Did you ever know a +woman like that who wasn't paying weekly instalments on an enlarged +crayon portrait of herself? The biggest factory of that kind in the +country is just around the corner. I went there and got her address +off the books. That's all." + + + + +III + +WITCHES' LOAVES + + +Miss Martha Meacham kept the little bakery on the corner (the one +where you go up three steps, and the bell tinkles when you open the +door). + +Miss Martha was forty, her bank-book showed a credit of two thousand +dollars, and she possessed two false teeth and a sympathetic heart. +Many people have married whose chances to do so were much inferior to +Miss Martha's. + +Two or three times a week a customer came in in whom she began to take +an interest. He was a middle-aged man, wearing spectacles and a brown +beard trimmed to a careful point. + +He spoke English with a strong German accent. His clothes were worn +and darned in places, and wrinkled and baggy in others. But he looked +neat, and had very good manners. + +He always bought two loaves of stale bread. Fresh bread was five cents +a loaf. Stale ones were two for five. Never did he call for anything +but stale bread. + +Once Miss Martha saw a red and brown stain on his fingers. She was +sure then that he was an artist and very poor. No doubt he lived in a +garret, where he painted pictures and ate stale bread and thought of +the good things to eat in Miss Martha's bakery. + +Often when Miss Martha sat down to her chops and light rolls and jam +and tea she would sigh, and wish that the gentle-mannered artist might +share her tasty meal instead of eating his dry crust in that draughty +attic. Miss Martha's heart, as you have been told, was a sympathetic +one. + +In order to test her theory as to his occupation, she brought from +her room one day a painting that she had bought at a sale, and set it +against the shelves behind the bread counter. + +It was a Venetian scene. A splendid marble palazzio (so it said on the +picture) stood in the foreground--or rather forewater. For the rest +there were gondolas (with the lady trailing her hand in the water), +clouds, sky, and chiaro-oscuro in plenty. No artist could fail to +notice it. + +Two days afterward the customer came in. + +"Two loafs of stale bread, if you blease. + +"You haf here a fine bicture, madame," he said while she was wrapping +up the bread. + +"Yes?" says Miss Martha, revelling in her own cunning. "I do so admire +art and" (no, it would not do to say "artists" thus early) "and +paintings," she substituted. "You think it is a good picture?" + +"Der balance," said the customer, "is not in good drawing. Der +bairspective of it is not true. Goot morning, madame." + +He took his bread, bowed, and hurried out. + +Yes, he must be an artist. Miss Martha took the picture back to her +room. + +How gentle and kindly his eyes shone behind his spectacles! What a +broad brow he had! To be able to judge perspective at a glance--and +to live on stale bread! But genius often has to struggle before it is +recognized. + +What a thing it would be for art and perspective if genius were backed +by two thousand dollars in bank, a bakery, and a sympathetic heart +to-- But these were day-dreams, Miss Martha. + +Often now when he came he would chat for a while across the showcase. +He seemed to crave Miss Martha's cheerful words. + +He kept on buying stale bread. Never a cake, never a pie, never one of +her delicious Sally Lunns. + +She thought he began to look thinner and discouraged. Her heart ached +to add something good to eat to his meagre purchase, but her courage +failed at the act. She did not dare affront him. She knew the pride of +artists. + +Miss Martha took to wearing her blue-dotted silk waist behind the +counter. In the back room she cooked a mysterious compound of quince +seeds and borax. Ever so many people use it for the complexion. + +One day the customer came in as usual, laid his nickel on the +showcase, and called for his stale loaves. While Miss Martha was +reaching for them there was a great tooting and clanging, and a +fire-engine came lumbering past. + +The customer hurried to the door to look, as any one will. Suddenly +inspired, Miss Martha seized the opportunity. + +On the bottom shelf behind the counter was a pound of fresh butter +that the dairyman had left ten minutes before. With a bread knife +Miss Martha made a deep slash in each of the stale loaves, inserted +a generous quantity of butter, and pressed the loaves tight again. + +When the customer turned once more she was tying the paper around +them. + +When he had gone, after an unusually pleasant little chat, Miss Martha +smiled to herself, but not without a slight fluttering of the heart. + +Had she been too bold? Would he take offense? But surely not. There +was no language of edibles. Butter was no emblem of unmaidenly +forwardness. + +For a long time that day her mind dwelt on the subject. She imagined +the scene when he should discover her little deception. + +He would lay down his brushes and palette. There would stand his easel +with the picture he was painting in which the perspective was beyond +criticism. + +He would prepare for his luncheon of dry bread and water. He would +slice into a loaf--ah! + +Miss Martha blushed. Would he think of the hand that placed it there +as he ate? Would he-- + +The front door bell jangled viciously. Somebody was coming in, making +a great deal of noise. + +Miss Martha hurried to the front. Two men were there. One was a young +man smoking a pipe--a man she had never seen before. The other was her +artist. + +His face was very red, his hat was on the back of his head, his +hair was wildly rumpled. He clinched his two fists and shook them +ferociously at Miss Martha. _At Miss Martha_. + +"_Dummkopf!_" he shouted with extreme loudness; and then +"_Tausendonfer!_" or something like it in German. + +The young man tried to draw him away. + +"I vill not go," he said angrily, "else I shall told her." + +He made a bass drum of Miss Martha's counter. + +"You haf shpoilt me," he cried, his blue eyes blazing behind his +spectacles. "I vill tell you. You vas von _meddingsome old cat!_" + +Miss Martha leaned weakly against the shelves and laid one hand on her +blue-dotted silk waist. The young man took the other by the collar. + +"Come on," he said, "you've said enough." He dragged the angry one out +at the door to the sidewalk, and then came back. + +"Guess you ought to be told, ma'am," he said, "what the row is about. +That's Blumberger. He's an architectural draftsman. I work in the same +office with him. + +"He's been working hard for three months drawing a plan for a new +city hall. It was a prize competition. He finished inking the lines +yesterday. You know, a draftsman always makes his drawing in pencil +first. When it's done he rubs out the pencil lines with handfuls of +stale bread crumbs. That's better than India rubber. + +"Blumberger's been buying the bread here. Well, to-day--well, you +know, ma'am, that butter isn't--well, Blumberger's plan isn't good for +anything now except to cut up into railroad sandwiches." + +Miss Martha went into the back room. She took off the blue-dotted silk +waist and put on the old brown serge she used to wear. Then she poured +the quince seed and borax mixture out of the window into the ash can. + + + + +IV + +THE PRIDE OF THE CITIES + + +Said Mr. Kipling, "The cities are full of pride, challenging each to +each." Even so. + +New York was empty. Two hundred thousand of its people were away +for the summer. Three million eight hundred thousand remained as +caretakers and to pay the bills of the absentees. But the two hundred +thousand are an expensive lot. + +The New Yorker sat at a roof-garden table, ingesting solace through a +straw. His panama lay upon a chair. The July audience was scattered +among vacant seats as widely as outfielders when the champion batter +steps to the plate. Vaudeville happened at intervals. The breeze +was cool from the bay; around and above--everywhere except on the +stage--were stars. Glimpses were to be had of waiters, always +disappearing, like startled chamois. Prudent visitors who had ordered +refreshments by 'phone in the morning were now being served. The New +Yorker was aware of certain drawbacks to his comfort, but content +beamed softly from his rimless eyeglasses. His family was out of town. +The drinks were warm; the ballet was suffering from lack of both tune +and talcum--but his family would not return until September. + +Then up into the garden stumbled the man from Topaz City, Nevada. The +gloom of the solitary sightseer enwrapped him. Bereft of joy through +loneliness, he stalked with a widower's face through the halls of +pleasure. Thirst for human companionship possessed him as he panted +in the metropolitan draught. Straight to the New Yorker's table he +steered. + +The New Yorker, disarmed and made reckless by the lawless atmosphere +of a roof garden, decided upon utter abandonment of his life's +traditions. He resolved to shatter with one rash, dare-devil, +impulsive, hair-brained act the conventions that had hitherto been +woven into his existence. Carrying out this radical and precipitous +inspiration he nodded slightly to the stranger as he drew nearer the +table. + +The next moment found the man from Topaz City in the list of the New +Yorker's closest friends. He took a chair at the table, he gathered +two others for his feet, he tossed his broad-brimmed hat upon a +fourth, and told his life's history to his new-found pard. + +The New Yorker warmed a little, as an apartment-house furnace warms +when the strawberry season begins. A waiter who came within hail in an +unguarded moment was captured and paroled on an errand to the Doctor +Wiley experimental station. The ballet was now in the midst of a +musical vagary, and danced upon the stage programmed as Bolivian +peasants, clothed in some portions of its anatomy as Norwegian +fisher maidens, in others as ladies-in-waiting of Marie Antoinette, +historically denuded in other portions so as to represent sea nymphs, +and presenting the _tout ensemble_ of a social club of Central Park +West housemaids at a fish fry. + +"Been in the city long?" inquired the New Yorker, getting ready the +exact tip against the waiter's coming with large change from the bill. + +"Me?" said the man from Topaz City. "Four days. Never in Topaz City, +was you?" + +"I!" said the New Yorker. "I was never farther west than Eighth +Avenue. I had a brother who died on Ninth, but I met the cortege at +Eighth. There was a bunch of violets on the hearse, and the undertaker +mentioned the incident to avoid mistake. I cannot say that I am +familiar with the West." + +"Topaz City," said the man who occupied four chairs, "is one of the +finest towns in the world." + +"I presume that you have seen the sights of the metropolis," said the +New Yorker, "Four days is not a sufficient length of time in which to +view even our most salient points of interest, but one can possibly +form a general impression. Our architectural supremacy is what +generally strikes visitors to our city most forcibly. Of course you +have seen our Flatiron Building. It is considered--" + +"Saw it," said the man from Topaz City. "But you ought to come out our +way. It's mountainous, you know, and the ladies all wear short skirts +for climbing and--" + +"Excuse me," said the New Yorker, "but that isn't exactly the point. +New York must be a wonderful revelation to a visitor from the West. +Now, as to our hotels--" + +"Say," said the man from Topaz City, "that reminds me--there were +sixteen stage robbers shot last year within twenty miles of--" + +"I was speaking of hotels," said the New Yorker. "We lead Europe in +that respect. And as far as our leisure class is concerned we are +far--" + +"Oh, I don't know," interrupted the man from Topaz City. "There were +twelve tramps in our jail when I left home. I guess New York isn't +so--" + +"Beg pardon, you seem to misapprehend the idea. Of course, you visited +the Stock Exchange and Wall Street, where the--" + +"Oh, yes," said the man from Topaz City, as he lighted a Pennsylvania +stogie, "and I want to tell you that we've got the finest town marshal +west of the Rockies. Bill Rainer he took in five pickpockets out of +the crowd when Red Nose Thompson laid the cornerstone of his new +saloon. Topaz City don't allow--" + +"Have another Rhine wine and seltzer," suggested the New Yorker. "I've +never been West, as I said; but there can't be any place out there to +compare with New York. As to the claims of Chicago I--" + +"One man," said the Topazite--"one man only has been murdered and +robbed in Topaz City in the last three--" + +"Oh, I know what Chicago is," interposed the New Yorker. "Have you +been up Fifth Avenue to see the magnificent residences of our mil--" + +"Seen 'em all. You ought to know Reub Stegall, the assessor of Topaz. +When old man Tilbury, that owns the only two-story house in town, +tried to swear his taxes from $6,000 down to $450.75, Reub buckled on +his forty-five and went down to see--" + +"Yes, yes, but speaking of our great city--one of its greatest +features is our superb police department. There is no body of men in +the world that can equal it for--" + +"That waiter gets around like a Langley flying machine," remarked the +man from Topaz City, thirstily. "We've got men in our town, too, worth +$400,000. There's old Bill Withers and Colonel Metcalf and--" + +"Have you seen Broadway at night?" asked the New Yorker, courteously. +"There are few streets in the world that can compare with it. When the +electrics are shining and the pavements are alive with two hurrying +streams of elegantly clothed men and beautiful women attired in +the costliest costumes that wind in and out in a close maze of +expensively--" + +"Never knew but one case in Topaz City," said the man from the West. +"Jim Bailey, our mayor, had his watch and chain and $235 in cash taken +from his pocket while--" + +"That's another matter," said the New Yorker. "While you are in +our city you should avail yourself of every opportunity to see its +wonders. Our rapid transit system--" + +"If you was out in Topaz," broke in the man from there, "I could show +you a whole cemetery full of people that got killed accidentally. +Talking about mangling folks up! why, when Berry Rogers turned loose +that old double-barrelled shot-gun of his loaded with slugs at +anybody--" + +"Here, waiter!" called the New Yorker. "Two more of the same. It +is acknowledged by every one that our city is the centre of art, +and literature, and learning. Take, for instance, our after-dinner +speakers. Where else in the country would you find such wit and +eloquence as emanate from Depew and Ford, and--" + +"If you take the papers," interrupted the Westerner, "you must have +read of Pete Webster's daughter. The Websters live two blocks north of +the court-house in Topaz City. Miss Tillie Webster, she slept forty +days and nights without waking up. The doctors said that--" + +"Pass the matches, please," said the New Yorker. "Have you observed +the expedition with which new buildings are being run up in New York? +Improved inventions in steel framework and--" + +"I noticed," said the Nevadian, "that the statistics of Topaz City +showed only one carpenter crushed by falling timbers last year and he +was caught in a cyclone." + +"They abuse our sky line," continued the New Yorker, "and it is likely +that we are not yet artistic in the construction of our buildings. But +I can safely assert that we lead in pictorial and decorative art. In +some of our houses can be found masterpieces in the way of paintings +and sculpture. One who has the entree to our best galleries will +find--" + +"Back up," exclaimed the man from Topaz City. "There was a game last +month in our town in which $90,000 changed hands on a pair of--" + +"Ta-romt-tara!" went the orchestra. The stage curtain, blushing pink +at the name "Asbestos" inscribed upon it, came down with a slow +midsummer movement. The audience trickled leisurely down the elevator +and stairs. + +On the sidewalk below, the New Yorker and the man from Topaz City +shook hands with alcoholic gravity. The elevated crashed raucously, +surface cars hummed and clanged, cabmen swore, newsboys shrieked, +wheels clattered ear-piercingly. The New Yorker conceived a happy +thought, with which he aspired to clinch the pre-eminence of his city. + +"You must admit," said he, "that in the way of noise New York is far +ahead of any other--" + +"Back to the everglades!" said the man from Topaz City. "In 1900, when +Sousa's band and the repeating candidate were in our town you +couldn't--" + +The rattle of an express wagon drowned the rest of the words. + + + + +V + +HOLDING UP A TRAIN + + + Note. The man who told me these things was for several years + an outlaw in the Southwest and a follower of the pursuit he + so frankly describes. His description of the _modus operandi_ + should prove interesting, his counsel of value to the + potential passenger in some future "hold-up," while his + estimate of the pleasures of train robbing will hardly induce + any one to adopt it as a profession. I give the story in + almost exactly his own words. + O. H. + + +Most people would say, if their opinion was asked for, that holding +up a train would be a hard job. Well, it isn't; it's easy. I have +contributed some to the uneasiness of railroads and the insomnia of +express companies, and the most trouble I ever had about a hold-up was +in being swindled by unscrupulous people while spending the money I +got. The danger wasn't anything to speak of, and we didn't mind the +trouble. + +One man has come pretty near robbing a train by himself; two have +succeeded a few times; three can do it if they are hustlers, but five +is about the right number. The time to do it and the place depend upon +several things. + +The first "stick-up" I was ever in happened in 1890. Maybe the way I +got into it will explain how most train robbers start in the business. +Five out of six Western outlaws are just cowboys out of a job and gone +wrong. The sixth is a tough from the East who dresses up like a bad +man and plays some low-down trick that gives the boys a bad name. Wire +fences and "nesters" made five of them; a bad heart made the sixth. + +Jim S---- and I were working on the 101 Ranch in Colorado. The nesters +had the cowman on the go. They had taken up the land and elected +officers who were hard to get along with. Jim and I rode into La Junta +one day, going south from a round-up. We were having a little fun +without malice toward anybody when a farmer administration cut in +and tried to harvest us. Jim shot a deputy marshal, and I kind of +corroborated his side of the argument. We skirmished up and down the +main street, the boomers having bad luck all the time. After a while +we leaned forward and shoved for the ranch down on the Ceriso. We were +riding a couple of horses that couldn't fly, but they could catch +birds. + +A few days after that, a gang of the La Junta boomers came to the +ranch and wanted us to go back with them. Naturally, we declined. We +had the house on them, and before we were done refusing, that old +'dobe was plumb full of lead. When dark came we fagged 'em a batch of +bullets and shoved out the back door for the rocks. They sure smoked +us as we went. We had to drift, which we did, and rounded up down in +Oklahoma. + +Well, there wasn't anything we could get there, and, being mighty +hard up, we decided to transact a little business with the railroads. +Jim and I joined forces with Tom and Ike Moore--two brothers who had +plenty of sand they were willing to convert into dust. I can call +their names, for both of them are dead. Tom was shot while robbing a +bank in Arkansas; Ike was killed during the more dangerous pastime of +attending a dance in the Creek Nation. + +We selected a place on the Santa Fe where there was a bridge across a +deep creek surrounded by heavy timber. All passenger trains took water +at the tank close to one end of the bridge. It was a quiet place, the +nearest house being five miles away. The day before it happened, we +rested our horses and "made medicine" as to how we should get about +it. Our plans were not at all elaborate, as none of us had ever +engaged in a hold-up before. + +The Santa Fe flyer was due at the tank at 11.15 P. M. At eleven, Tom +and I lay down on one side of the track, and Jim and Ike took the +other. As the train rolled up, the headlight flashing far down the +track and the steam hissing from the engine, I turned weak all over. +I would have worked a whole year on the ranch for nothing to have +been out of that affair right then. Some of the nerviest men in the +business have told me that they felt the same way the first time. + +The engine had hardly stopped when I jumped on the running-board on +one side, while Jim mounted the other. As soon as the engineer and +fireman saw our guns they threw up their hands without being told, and +begged us not to shoot, saying they would do anything we wanted them +to. + +"Hit the ground," I ordered, and they both jumped off. We drove them +before us down the side of the train. While this was happening, Tom +and Ike had been blazing away, one on each side of the train, yelling +like Apaches, so as to keep the passengers herded in the cars. Some +fellow stuck a little twenty-two calibre out one of the coach windows +and fired it straight up in the air. I let drive and smashed the glass +just over his head. That settled everything like resistance from that +direction. + +By this time all my nervousness was gone. I felt a kind of pleasant +excitement as if I were at a dance or a frolic of some sort. The +lights were all out in the coaches, and, as Tom and Ike gradually quit +firing and yelling, it got to be almost as still as a graveyard. I +remember hearing a little bird chirping in a bush at the side of the +track, as if it were complaining at being waked up. + +I made the fireman get a lantern, and then I went to the express car +and yelled to the messenger to open up or get perforated. He slid the +door back and stood in it with his hands up. "Jump overboard, son," I +said, and he hit the dirt like a lump of lead. There were two safes +in the car--a big one and a little one. By the way, I first located +the messenger's arsenal--a double-barrelled shot-gun with buckshot +cartridges and a thirty-eight in a drawer. I drew the cartridges from +the shot-gun, pocketed the pistol, and called the messenger inside. I +shoved my gun against his nose and put him to work. He couldn't open +the big safe, but he did the little one. There was only nine hundred +dollars in it. That was mighty small winnings for our trouble, so we +decided to go through the passengers. We took our prisoners to the +smoking-car, and from there sent the engineer through the train to +light up the coaches. Beginning with the first one, we placed a man at +each door and ordered the passengers to stand between the seats with +their hands up. + +If you want to find out what cowards the majority of men are, all you +have to do is rob a passenger train. I don't mean because they don't +resist--I'll tell you later on why they can't do that--but it makes +a man feel sorry for them the way they lose their heads. Big, burly +drummers and farmers and ex-soldiers and high-collared dudes and +sports that, a few moments before, were filling the car with noise and +bragging, get so scared that their ears flop. + +There were very few people in the day coaches at that time of night, +so we made a slim haul until we got to the sleeper. The Pullman +conductor met me at one door while Jim was going round to the other +one. He very politely informed me that I could not go into that car, +as it did not belong to the railroad company, and, besides, the +passengers had already been greatly disturbed by the shouting and +firing. Never in all my life have I met with a finer instance of +official dignity and reliance upon the power of Mr. Pullman's great +name. I jabbed my six-shooter so hard against Mr. Conductor's front +that I afterward found one of his vest buttons so firmly wedged in the +end of the barrel that I had to shoot it out. He just shut up like a +weak-springed knife and rolled down the car steps. + +I opened the door of the sleeper and stepped inside. A big, fat +old man came wabbling up to me, puffing and blowing. He had one +coat-sleeve on and was trying to put his vest on over that. I don't +know who he thought I was. + +"Young man, young man," says he, "you must keep cool and not get +excited. Above everything, keep cool." + +"I can't," says I. "Excitement's just eating me up." And then I let +out a yell and turned loose my forty-five through the skylight. + +That old man tried to dive into one of the lower berths, but a screech +came out of it and a bare foot that took him in the bread-basket and +landed him on the floor. I saw Jim coming in the other door, and I +hollered for everybody to climb out and line up. + +They commenced to scramble down, and for a while we had a three-ringed +circus. The men looked as frightened and tame as a lot of rabbits in +a deep snow. They had on, on an average, about a quarter of a suit of +clothes and one shoe apiece. One chap was sitting on the floor of the +aisle, looking as if he were working a hard sum in arithmetic. He was +trying, very solemn, to pull a lady's number two shoe on his number +nine foot. + +The ladies didn't stop to dress. They were so curious to see a real, +live train robber, bless 'em, that they just wrapped blankets and +sheets around themselves and came out, squeaky and fidgety looking. +They always show more curiosity and sand than the men do. + +We got them all lined up and pretty quiet, and I went through the +bunch. I found very little on them--I mean in the way of valuables. +One man in the line was a sight. He was one of those big, overgrown, +solemn snoozers that sit on the platform at lectures and look wise. +Before crawling out he had managed to put on his long, frock-tailed +coat and his high silk hat. The rest of him was nothing but pajamas +and bunions. When I dug into that Prince Albert, I expected to drag +out at least a block of gold mine stock or an armful of Government +bonds, but all I found was a little boy's French harp about four +inches long. What it was there for, I don't know. I felt a little mad +because he had fooled me so. I stuck the harp up against his mouth. + +"If you can't pay--play," I says. + +"I can't play," says he. + +"Then learn right off quick," says I, letting him smell the end of my +gun-barrel. + +He caught hold of the harp, turned red as a beet, and commenced to +blow. He blew a dinky little tune I remembered hearing when I was a +kid: + + + Prettiest little gal in the country--oh! + Mammy and Daddy told me so. + + +I made him keep on playing it all the time we were in the car. Now and +then he'd get weak and off the key, and I'd turn my gun on him and +ask what was the matter with that little gal, and whether he had any +intention of going back on her, which would make him start up again +like sixty. I think that old boy standing there in his silk hat and +bare feet, playing his little French harp, was the funniest sight I +ever saw. One little red-headed woman in the line broke out laughing +at him. You could have heard her in the next car. + +Then Jim held them steady while I searched the berths. I grappled +around in those beds and filled a pillow-case with the strangest +assortment of stuff you ever saw. Now and then I'd come across a +little pop-gun pistol, just about right for plugging teeth with, +which I'd throw out the window. When I finished with the collection, +I dumped the pillow-case load in the middle of the aisle. There +were a good many watches, bracelets, rings, and pocket-books, with +a sprinkling of false teeth, whiskey flasks, face-powder boxes, +chocolate caramels, and heads of hair of various colours and lengths. +There were also about a dozen ladies' stockings into which jewellery, +watches, and rolls of bills had been stuffed and then wadded up tight +and stuck under the mattresses. I offered to return what I called the +"scalps," saying that we were not Indians on the war-path, but none of +the ladies seemed to know to whom the hair belonged. + +One of the women--and a good-looker she was--wrapped in a striped +blanket, saw me pick up one of the stockings that was pretty chunky +and heavy about the toe, and she snapped out: + +"That's mine, sir. You're not in the business of robbing women, are +you?" + +Now, as this was our first hold-up, we hadn't agreed upon any code +of ethics, so I hardly knew what to answer. But, anyway, I replied: +"Well, not as a specialty. If this contains your personal property you +can have it back." + +"It just does," she declared eagerly, and reached out her hand for it. + +"You'll excuse my taking a look at the contents," I said, holding the +stocking up by the toe. Out dumped a big gent's gold watch, worth +two hundred, a gent's leather pocket-book that we afterward found +to contain six hundred dollars, a 32-calibre revolver; and the only +thing of the lot that could have been a lady's personal property was +a silver bracelet worth about fifty cents. + +I said: "Madame, here's your property," and handed her the bracelet. +"Now," I went on, "how can you expect us to act square with you when +you try to deceive us in this manner? I'm surprised at such conduct." + +The young woman flushed up as if she had been caught doing something +dishonest. Some other woman down the line called out: "The mean +thing!" I never knew whether she meant the other lady or me. + +When we finished our job we ordered everybody back to bed, told 'em +good night very politely at the door, and left. We rode forty miles +before daylight and then divided the stuff. Each one of us got +$1,752.85 in money. We lumped the jewellery around. Then we scattered, +each man for himself. + +That was my first train robbery, and it was about as easily done as +any of the ones that followed. But that was the last and only time +I ever went through the passengers. I don't like that part of the +business. Afterward I stuck strictly to the express car. During the +next eight years I handled a good deal of money. + +The best haul I made was just seven years after the first one. We +found out about a train that was going to bring out a lot of money +to pay off the soldiers at a Government post. We stuck that train up +in broad daylight. Five of us lay in the sand hills near a little +station. Ten soldiers were guarding the money on the train, but they +might just as well have been at home on a furlough. We didn't even +allow them to stick their heads out the windows to see the fun. We +had no trouble at all in getting the money, which was all in gold. Of +course, a big howl was raised at the time about the robbery. It was +Government stuff, and the Government got sarcastic and wanted to know +what the convoy of soldiers went along for. The only excuse given was +that nobody was expecting an attack among those bare sand hills in +daytime. I don't know what the Government thought about the excuse, +but I know that it was a good one. The surprise--that is the keynote +of the train-robbing business. The papers published all kinds of +stories about the loss, finally agreeing that it was between nine +thousand and ten thousand dollars. The Government sawed wood. Here are +the correct figures, printed for the first time--forty-eight thousand +dollars. If anybody will take the trouble to look over Uncle Sam's +private accounts for that little debit to profit and loss, he will +find that I am right to a cent. + +By that time we were expert enough to know what to do. We rode due +west twenty miles, making a trail that a Broadway policeman could have +followed, and then we doubled back, hiding our tracks. On the second +night after the hold-up, while posses were scouring the country in +every direction, Jim and I were eating supper in the second story of +a friend's house in the town where the alarm started from. Our friend +pointed out to us, in an office across the street, a printing press at +work striking off handbills offering a reward for our capture. + +I have been asked what we do with the money we get. Well, I never +could account for a tenth part of it after it was spent. It goes +fast and freely. An outlaw has to have a good many friends. A highly +respected citizen may, and often does, get along with very few, but a +man on the dodge has got to have "sidekickers." With angry posses and +reward-hungry officers cutting out a hot trail for him, he must have +a few places scattered about the country where he can stop and feed +himself and his horse and get a few hours' sleep without having to +keep both eyes open. When he makes a haul he feels like dropping some +of the coin with these friends, and he does it liberally. Sometimes I +have, at the end of a hasty visit at one of these havens of refuge, +flung a handful of gold and bills into the laps of the kids playing +on the floor, without knowing whether my contribution was a hundred +dollars or a thousand. + +When old-timers make a big haul they generally go far away to one of +the big cities to spend their money. Green hands, however successful a +hold-up they make, nearly always give themselves away by showing too +much money near the place where they got it. + +I was in a job in '94 where we got twenty thousand dollars. We +followed our favourite plan for a get-away--that is, doubled on our +trail--and laid low for a time near the scene of the train's bad luck. +One morning I picked up a newspaper and read an article with big +headlines stating that the marshal, with eight deputies and a posse of +thirty armed citizens, had the train robbers surrounded in a mesquite +thicket on the Cimarron, and that it was a question of only a few +hours when they would be dead men or prisoners. While I was reading +that article I was sitting at breakfast in one of the most elegant +private residences in Washington City, with a flunky in knee pants +standing behind my chair. Jim was sitting across the table talking to +his half-uncle, a retired naval officer, whose name you have often +seen in the accounts of doings in the capital. We had gone there and +bought rattling outfits of good clothes, and were resting from our +labours among the nabobs. We must have been killed in that mesquite +thicket, for I can make an affidavit that we didn't surrender. + +Now I propose to tell why it is easy to hold up a train, and, then, +why no one should ever do it. + +In the first place, the attacking party has all the advantage. That +is, of course, supposing that they are old-timers with the necessary +experience and courage. They have the outside and are protected by +the darkness, while the others are in the light, hemmed into a small +space, and exposed, the moment they show a head at a window or door, +to the aim of a man who is a dead shot and who won't hesitate to +shoot. + +But, in my opinion, the main condition that makes train robbing easy +is the element of surprise in connection with the imagination of the +passengers. If you have ever seen a horse that has eaten loco weed you +will understand what I mean when I say that the passengers get locoed. +That horse gets the awfullest imagination on him in the world. You +can't coax him to cross a little branch stream two feet wide. It looks +as big to him as the Mississippi River. That's just the way with the +passenger. He thinks there are a hundred men yelling and shooting +outside, when maybe there are only two or three. And the muzzle of a +forty-five looks like the entrance to a tunnel. The passenger is all +right, although he may do mean little tricks, like hiding a wad of +money in his shoe and forgetting to dig-up until you jostle his ribs +some with the end of your six-shooter; but there's no harm in him. + +As to the train crew, we never had any more trouble with them than +if they had been so many sheep. I don't mean that they are cowards; +I mean that they have got sense. They know they're not up against a +bluff. It's the same way with the officers. I've seen secret service +men, marshals, and railroad detectives fork over their change as meek +as Moses. I saw one of the bravest marshals I ever knew hide his gun +under his seat and dig up along with the rest while I was taking toll. +He wasn't afraid; he simply knew that we had the drop on the whole +outfit. Besides, many of those officers have families and they feel +that they oughtn't to take chances; whereas death has no terrors for +the man who holds up a train. He expects to get killed some day, +and he generally does. My advice to you, if you should ever be in a +hold-up, is to line up with the cowards and save your bravery for an +occasion when it may be of some benefit to you. Another reason why +officers are backward about mixing things with a train robber is a +financial one. Every time there is a scrimmage and somebody gets +killed, the officers lose money. If the train robber gets away they +swear out a warrant against John Doe et al. and travel hundreds of +miles and sign vouchers for thousands on the trail of the fugitives, +and the Government foots the bills. So, with them, it is a question of +mileage rather than courage. + +I will give one instance to support my statement that the surprise is +the best card in playing for a hold-up. + +Along in '92 the Daltons were cutting out a hot trail for the officers +down in the Cherokee Nation, Those were their lucky days, and they got +so reckless and sandy, that they used to announce before hand what +job they were going to undertake. Once they gave it out that they +were going to hold up the M. K. & T. flyer on a certain night at the +station of Pryor Creek, in Indian Territory. + +That night the railroad company got fifteen deputy marshals in +Muscogee and put them on the train. Beside them they had fifty armed +men hid in the depot at Pryor Creek. + +When the Katy Flyer pulled in not a Dalton showed up. The next station +was Adair, six miles away. When the train reached there, and the +deputies were having a good time explaining what they would have done +to the Dalton gang if they had turned up, all at once it sounded like +an army firing outside. The conductor and brakeman came running into +the car yelling, "Train robbers!" + +Some of those deputies lit out of the door, hit the ground, and kept +on running. Some of them hid their Winchesters under the seats. Two of +them made a fight and were both killed. + +It took the Daltons just ten minutes to capture the train and whip +the escort. In twenty minutes more they robbed the express car of +twenty-seven thousand dollars and made a clean get-away. + +My opinion is that those deputies would have put up a stiff fight at +Pryor Creek, where they were expecting trouble, but they were taken by +surprise and "locoed" at Adair, just as the Daltons, who knew their +business, expected they would. + +I don't think I ought to close without giving some deductions from +my experience of eight years "on the dodge." It doesn't pay to rob +trains. Leaving out the question of right and morals, which I don't +think I ought to tackle, there is very little to envy in the life of +an outlaw. After a while money ceases to have any value in his eyes. +He gets to looking upon the railroads and express companies as his +bankers, and his six-shooter as a cheque book good for any amount. He +throws away money right and left. Most of the time he is on the jump, +riding day and night, and he lives so hard between times that he +doesn't enjoy the taste of high life when he gets it. He knows that +his time is bound to come to lose his life or liberty, and that the +accuracy of his aim, the speed of his horse, and the fidelity of his +"sider," are all that postpone the inevitable. + +It isn't that he loses any sleep over danger from the officers of the +law. In all my experience I never knew officers to attack a band of +outlaws unless they outnumbered them at least three to one. + +But the outlaw carries one thought constantly in his mind--and that is +what makes him so sore against life, more than anything else--he knows +where the marshals get their recruits of deputies. He knows that the +majority of these upholders of the law were once lawbreakers, horse +thieves, rustlers, highwaymen, and outlaws like himself, and that they +gained their positions and immunity by turning state's evidence, by +turning traitor and delivering up their comrades to imprisonment and +death. He knows that some day--unless he is shot first--his Judas will +set to work, the trap will be laid, and he will be the surprised +instead of a surpriser at a stick-up. + +That is why the man who holds up trains picks his company with +a thousand times the care with which a careful girl chooses a +sweetheart. That is why he raises himself from his blanket of nights +and listens to the tread of every horse's hoofs on the distant road. +That is why he broods suspiciously for days upon a jesting remark or +an unusual movement of a tried comrade, or the broken mutterings of +his closest friend, sleeping by his side. + +And it is one of the reasons why the train-robbing profession is not +so pleasant a one as either of its collateral branches--politics or +cornering the market. + + + + +VI + +ULYSSES AND THE DOGMAN + + +Do you know the time of the dogmen? + +When the forefinger of twilight begins to smudge the clear-drawn lines +of the Big City there is inaugurated an hour devoted to one of the +most melancholy sights of urban life. + +Out from the towering flat crags and apartment peaks of the cliff +dwellers of New York steals an army of beings that were once men. Even +yet they go upright upon two limbs and retain human form and speech; +but you will observe that they are behind animals in progress. Each of +these beings follows a dog, to which he is fastened by an artificial +ligament. + +These men are all victims to Circe. Not willingly do they become +flunkeys to Fido, bell boys to bull terriers, and toddlers after +Towzer. Modern Circe, instead of turning them into animals, has kindly +left the difference of a six-foot leash between them. Every one of +those dogmen has been either cajoled, bribed, or commanded by his own +particular Circe to take the dear household pet out for an airing. + +By their faces and manner you can tell that the dogmen are bound in a +hopeless enchantment. Never will there come even a dog-catcher Ulysses +to remove the spell. + +The faces of some are stonily set. They are past the commiseration, +the curiosity, or the jeers of their fellow-beings. Years of +matrimony, of continuous compulsory canine constitutionals, have +made them callous. They unwind their beasts from lamp posts, or the +ensnared legs of profane pedestrians, with the stolidity of mandarins +manipulating the strings of their kites. + +Others, more recently reduced to the ranks of Rover's retinue, take +their medicine sulkily and fiercely. They play the dog on the end of +their line with the pleasure felt by the girl out fishing when she +catches a sea-robin on her hook. They glare at you threateningly if +you look at them, as if it would be their delight to let slip the dogs +of war. These are half-mutinous dogmen, not quite Circe-ized, and you +will do well not to kick their charges, should they sniff around your +ankles. + +Others of the tribe do not seem to feel so keenly. They are mostly +unfresh youths, with gold caps and drooping cigarettes, who do not +harmonize with their dogs. The animals they attend wear satin bows in +their collars; and the young men steer them so assiduously that you +are tempted to the theory that some personal advantage, contingent +upon satisfactory service, waits upon the execution of their duties. + +The dogs thus personally conducted are of many varieties; but they +are one in fatness, in pampered, diseased vileness of temper, in +insolent, snarling capriciousness of behaviour. They tug at the leash +fractiously, they make leisurely nasal inventory of every door step, +railing, and post. They sit down to rest when they choose; they wheeze +like the winner of a Third Avenue beefsteak-eating contest; they +blunder clumsily into open cellars and coal holes; they lead the +dogmen a merry dance. + +These unfortunate dry nurses of dogdom, the cur cuddlers, +mongrel managers, Spitz stalkers, poodle pullers, Skye scrapers, +dachshund dandlers, terrier trailers and Pomeranian pushers of the +cliff-dwelling Circes follow their charges meekly. The doggies neither +fear nor respect them. Masters of the house these men whom they hold +in leash may be, but they are not masters of them. From cosey corner +to fire escape, from divan to dumbwaiter, doggy's snarl easily drives +this two-legged being who is commissioned to walk at the other end of +his string during his outing. + +One twilight the dogmen came forth as usual at their Circes' pleading, +guerdon, or crack of the whip. One among them was a strong man, +apparently of too solid virtues for this airy vocation. His expression +was melancholic, his manner depressed. He was leashed to a vile white +dog, loathsomely fat, fiendishly ill-natured, gloatingly intractable +toward his despised conductor. + +At a corner nearest to his apartment house the dogman turned down a +side street, hoping for fewer witnesses to his ignominy. The surfeited +beast waddled before him, panting with spleen and the labour of +motion. + +Suddenly the dog stopped. A tall, brown, long-coated, wide-brimmed man +stood like a Colossus blocking the sidewalk and declaring: + +"Well, I'm a son of a gun!" + +"Jim Berry!" breathed the dogman, with exclamation points in his +voice. + +"Sam Telfair," cried Wide-Brim again, "you ding-basted old +willy-walloo, give us your hoof!" + +Their hands clasped in the brief, tight greeting of the West that is +death to the hand-shake microbe. + +"You old fat rascal!" continued Wide-Brim, with a wrinkled brown +smile; "it's been five years since I seen you. I been in this town a +week, but you can't find nobody in such a place. Well, you dinged old +married man, how are they coming?" + +Something mushy and heavily soft like raised dough leaned against +Jim's leg and chewed his trousers with a yeasty growl. + +"Get to work," said Jim, "and explain this yard-wide hydrophobia +yearling you've throwed your lasso over. Are you the pound-master of +this burg? Do you call that a dog or what?" + +"I need a drink," said the dogman, dejected at the reminder of his old +dog of the sea. "Come on." + +Hard by was a cafe. 'Tis ever so in the big city. + +They sat at a table, and the bloated monster yelped and scrambled at +the end of his leash to get at the cafe cat. + +"Whiskey," said Jim to the waiter. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +"You're fatter," said Jim, "and you look subjugated. I don't know +about the East agreeing with you. All the boys asked me to hunt you up +when I started. Sandy King, he went to the Klondike. Watson Burrel, he +married the oldest Peters girl. I made some money buying beeves, and +I bought a lot of wild land up on the Little Powder. Going to fence +next fall. Bill Rawlins, he's gone to farming. You remember Bill, of +course--he was courting Marcella--excuse me, Sam--I mean the lady you +married, while she was teaching school at Prairie View. But you was +the lucky man. How is Missis Telfair?" + +"S-h-h-h!" said the dogman, signalling the waiter; "give it a name." + +"Whiskey," said Jim. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +"She's well," he continued, after his chaser. "She refused to live +anywhere but in New York, where she came from. We live in a flat. +Every evening at six I take that dog out for a walk. It's Marcella's +pet. There never were two animals on earth, Jim, that hated one +another like me and that dog does. His name's Lovekins. Marcella +dresses for dinner while we're out. We eat tabble dote. Ever try one +of them, Jim?" + +"No, I never," said Jim. "I seen the signs, but I thought they said +'table de hole.' I thought it was French for pool tables. How does it +taste?" + +"If you're going to be in the city for awhile we will--" + +"No, sir-ee. I'm starting for home this evening on the 7.25. Like to +stay longer, but I can't." + +"I'll walk down to the ferry with you," said the dogman. + +The dog had bound a leg each of Jim and the chair together, and had +sunk into a comatose slumber. Jim stumbled, and the leash was slightly +wrenched. The shrieks of the awakened beast rang for a block around. + +"If that's your dog," said Jim, when they were on the street again, +"what's to hinder you from running that habeas corpus you've got +around his neck over a limb and walking off and forgetting him?" + +"I'd never dare to," said the dogman, awed at the bold proposition. +"He sleeps in the bed, I sleep on a lounge. He runs howling to +Marcella if I look at him. Some night, Jim, I'm going to get even with +that dog. I've made up my mind to do it. I'm going to creep over with +a knife and cut a hole in his mosquito bar so they can get in to him. +See if I don't do it!" + +"You ain't yourself, Sam Telfair. You ain't what you was once. I don't +know about these cities and flats over here. With my own eyes I seen +you stand off both the Tillotson boys in Prairie View with the brass +faucet out of a molasses barrel. And I seen you rope and tie the +wildest steer on Little Powder in 39 1-2." + +"I did, didn't I?" said the other, with a temporary gleam in his eye. +"But that was before I was dogmatized." + +"Does Misses Telfair--" began Jim. + +"Hush!" said the dogman. "Here's another cafe." + +They lined up at the bar. The dog fell asleep at their feet. + +"Whiskey," said Jim. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +"I thought about you," said Jim, "when I bought that wild land. I +wished you was out there to help me with the stock." + +"Last Tuesday," said the dogman, "he bit me on the ankle because I +asked for cream in my coffee. He always gets the cream." + +"You'd like Prairie View now," said Jim. "The boys from the round-ups +for fifty miles around ride in there. One corner of my pasture is in +sixteen miles of the town. There's a straight forty miles of wire on +one side of it." + +"You pass through the kitchen to get to the bedroom," said the dogman, +"and you pass through the parlour to get to the bath room, and you +back out through the dining-room to get into the bedroom so you can +turn around and leave by the kitchen. And he snores and barks in his +sleep, and I have to smoke in the park on account of his asthma." + +"Don't Missis Telfair--" began Jim. + +"Oh, shut up!" said the dogman. "What is it this time?" + +"Whiskey," said Jim. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +"Well, I'll be racking along down toward the ferry," said the other. + +"Come on, there, you mangy, turtle-backed, snake-headed, bench-legged +ton-and-a-half of soap-grease!" shouted the dogman, with a new note in +his voice and a new hand on the leash. The dog scrambled after them, +with an angry whine at such unusual language from his guardian. + +At the foot of Twenty-third Street the dogman led the way through +swinging doors. + +"Last chance," said he. "Speak up." + +"Whiskey," said Jim. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +"I don't know," said the ranchman, "where I'll find the man I want +to take charge of the Little Powder outfit. I want somebody I know +something about. Finest stretch of prairie and timber you ever +squinted your eye over, Sam. Now if you was--" + +"Speaking of hydrophobia," said the dogman, "the other night he chewed +a piece out of my leg because I knocked a fly off of Marcella's arm. +'It ought to be cauterized,' says Marcella, and I was thinking so +myself. I telephones for the doctor, and when he comes Marcella says +to me: 'Help me hold the poor dear while the doctor fixes his mouth. +Oh, I hope he got no virus on any of his toofies when he bit you.' Now +what do you think of that?" + +"Does Missis Telfair--" began Jim. + +"Oh, drop it," said the dogman. "Come again!" + +"Whiskey," said Jim. + +"Make it two," said the dogman. + +They walked on to the ferry. The ranchman stepped to the ticket +window. + +Suddenly the swift landing of three or four heavy kicks was heard, +the air was rent by piercing canine shrieks, and a pained, outraged, +lubberly, bow-legged pudding of a dog ran frenziedly up the street +alone. + +"Ticket to Denver," said Jim. + +"Make it two," shouted the ex-dogman, reaching for his inside pocket. + + + + +VII + +THE CHAMPION OF THE WEATHER + + +If you should speak of the Kiowa Reservation to the average New +Yorker he probably wouldn't know whether you were referring to a new +political dodge at Albany or a leitmotif from "Parsifal." But out +in the Kiowa Reservation advices have been received concerning the +existence of New York. + +A party of us were on a hunting trip in the Reservation. Bud +Kingsbury, our guide, philosopher, and friend, was broiling antelope +steaks in camp one night. One of the party, a pinkish-haired young man +in a correct hunting costume, sauntered over to the fire to light a +cigarette, and remarked carelessly to Bud: + +"Nice night!" + +"Why, yes," said Bud, "as nice as any night could be that ain't +received the Broadway stamp of approval." + +Now, the young man was from New York, but the rest of us wondered how +Bud guessed it. So, when the steaks were done, we besought him to +lay bare his system of ratiocination. And as Bud was something of a +Territorial talking machine he made oration as follows: + +"How did I know he was from New York? Well, I figured it out as soon +as he sprung them two words on me. I was in New York myself a couple +of years ago, and I noticed some of the earmarks and hoof tracks of +the Rancho Manhattan." + +"Found New York rather different from the Panhandle, didn't you, Bud?" +asked one of the hunters. + +"Can't say that I did," answered Bud; "anyways, not more than some. +The main trail in that town which they call Broadway is plenty +travelled, but they're about the same brand of bipeds that tramp +around in Cheyenne and Amarillo, At first I was sort of rattled by the +crowds, but I soon says to myself, 'Here, now, Bud; they're just plain +folks like you and Geronimo and Grover Cleveland and the Watson boys, +so don't get all flustered up with consternation under your saddle +blanket,' and then I feels calm and peaceful, like I was back in the +Nation again at a ghost dance or a green corn pow-wow. + +"I'd been saving up for a year to give this New York a whirl. I knew +a man named Summers that lived there, but I couldn't find him; so +I played a lone hand at enjoying the intoxicating pleasures of the +corn-fed metropolis. + +"For a while I was so frivolous and locoed by the electric lights +and the noises of the phonographs and the second-story railroads +that I forgot one of the crying needs of my Western system of natural +requirements. I never was no hand to deny myself the pleasures of +sociable vocal intercourse with friends and strangers. Out in the +Territories when I meet a man I never saw before, inside of nine +minutes I know his income, religion, size of collar, and his wife's +temper, and how much he pays for clothes, alimony, and chewing +tobacco. It's a gift with me not to be penurious with my conversation. + +"But this here New York was inaugurated on the idea of abstemiousness +in regard to the parts of speech. At the end of three weeks nobody in +the city had fired even a blank syllable in my direction except the +waiter in the grub emporium where I fed. And as his outpourings of +syntax wasn't nothing but plagiarisms from the bill of fare, he never +satisfied my yearnings, which was to have somebody hit. If I stood +next to a man at a bar he'd edge off and give a Baldwin-Ziegler look +as if he suspected me of having the North Pole concealed on my person. +I began to wish that I'd gone to Abilene or Waco for my _paseado_; for +the mayor of them places will drink with you, and the first citizen +you meet will tell you his middle name and ask you to take a chance +in a raffle for a music box. + +"Well, one day when I was particular hankering for to be gregarious +with something more loquacious than a lamp post, a fellow in a caffy +says to me, says he: + +"'Nice day!' + +"He was a kind of a manager of the place, and I reckon he'd seen me +in there a good many times. He had a face like a fish and an eye like +Judas, but I got up and put one arm around his neck. + +"'Pardner,' I says, 'sure it's a nice day. You're the first gentleman +in all New York to observe that the intricacies of human speech might +not be altogether wasted on William Kingsbury. But don't you think,' +says I, 'that 'twas a little cool early in the morning; and ain't +there a feeling of rain in the air to-night? But along about noon it +sure was gallupsious weather. How's all up to the house? You doing +right well with the caffy, now?' + +"Well, sir, that galoot just turns his back and walks off stiff, +without a word, after all my trying to be agreeable! I didn't know +what to make of it. That night I finds a note from Summers, who'd +been away from town, giving the address of his camp. I goes up to +his house and has a good, old-time talk with his folks. And I tells +Summers about the actions of this coyote in the caffy, and desires +interpretation. + +"'Oh,' says Summers, 'he wasn't intending to strike up a conversation +with you. That's just the New York style. He'd seen you was a regular +customer and he spoke a word or two just to show you he appreciated +your custom. You oughtn't to have followed it up. That's about as far +as we care to go with a stranger. A word or so about the weather may +be ventured, but we don't generally make it the basis of an +acquaintance.' + +"'Billy,' says I, 'the weather and its ramifications is a solemn +subject with me. Meteorology is one of my sore points. No man can +open up the question of temperature or humidity or the glad sunshine +with me, and then turn tail on it without its leading to a falling +barometer. I'm going down to see that man again and give him a lesson +in the art of continuous conversation. You say New York etiquette +allows him two words and no answer. Well, he's going to turn himself +into a weather bureau and finish what he begun with me, besides +indulging in neighbourly remarks on other subjects.' + +"Summers talked agin it, but I was irritated some and I went on the +street car back to that caffy. + +"The same fellow was there yet, walking round in a sort of back corral +where there was tables and chairs. A few people was sitting around +having drinks and sneering at one another. + +"I called that man to one side and herded him into a corner. I +unbuttoned enough to show him a thirty-eight I carried stuck under my +vest. + +"'Pardner,' I says, 'a brief space ago I was in here and you seized +the opportunity to say it was a nice day. When I attempted to +corroborate your weather signal, you turned your back and walked off. +Now,' says I, 'you frog-hearted, language-shy, stiff-necked cross +between a Spitzbergen sea cook and a muzzled oyster, you resume where +you left off in your discourse on the weather.' + +"The fellow looks at me and tries to grin, but he sees I don't and he +comes around serious. + +"'Well,' says he, eyeing the handle of my gun, 'it was rather a nice +day; some warmish, though.' + +"'Particulars, you mealy-mouthed snoozer,' I says--'let's have the +specifications--expatiate--fill in the outlines. When you start +anything with me in short-hand it's bound to turn out a storm signal.' + +"'Looked like rain yesterday,' says the man, 'but it cleared off fine +in the forenoon. I hear the farmers are needing rain right badly +up-State.' + +"'That's the kind of a canter,' says I. 'Shake the New York dust off +your hoofs and be a real agreeable kind of a centaur. You broke the +ice, you know, and we're getting better acquainted every minute. Seems +to me I asked you about your family?' + +"'They're all well, thanks,' says he. 'We--we have a new piano.' + +"'Now you're coming it,' I says. 'This cold reserve is breaking up +at last. That little touch about the piano almost makes us brothers. +What's the youngest kid's name?' I asks him. + +"'Thomas,' says he. 'He's just getting well from the measles.' + +"'I feel like I'd known you always,' says I. 'Now there was just one +more--are you doing right well with the caffy, now?' + +"'Pretty well,' he says. 'I'm putting away a little money.' + +"'Glad to hear it,' says I. 'Now go back to your work and get +civilized. Keep your hands off the weather unless you're ready to +follow it up in a personal manner, It's a subject that naturally +belongs to sociability and the forming of new ties, and I hate to see +it handed out in small change in a town like this.' + +"So the next day I rolls up my blankets and hits the trail away from +New York City." + +For many minutes after Bud ceased talking we lingered around the fire, +and then all hands began to disperse for bed. + +As I was unrolling my bedding I heard the pinkish-haired young man +saying to Bud, with something like anxiety in his voice: + +"As I say, Mr. Kingsbury, there is something really beautiful about +this night. The delightful breeze and the bright stars and the clear +air unite in making it wonderfully attractive." + +"Yes," said Bud, "it's a nice night." + + + + +VIII + +MAKES THE WHOLE WORLD KIN + + +The burglar stepped inside the window quickly, and then he took his +time. A burglar who respects his art always takes his time before +taking anything else. + +The house was a private residence. By its boarded front door and +untrimmed Boston ivy the burglar knew that the mistress of it was +sitting on some oceanside piazza telling a sympathetic man in a +yachting cap that no one had ever understood her sensitive, lonely +heart. He knew by the light in the third-story front windows, and by +the lateness of the season, that the master of the house had come +home, and would soon extinguish his light and retire. For it was +September of the year and of the soul, in which season the house's +good man comes to consider roof gardens and stenographers as vanities, +and to desire the return of his mate and the more durable blessings of +decorum and the moral excellencies. + +The burglar lighted a cigarette. The guarded glow of the match +illuminated his salient points for a moment. He belonged to the third +type of burglars. + +This third type has not yet been recognized and accepted. The police +have made us familiar with the first and second. Their classification +is simple. The collar is the distinguishing mark. + +When a burglar is caught who does not wear a collar he is described as +a degenerate of the lowest type, singularly vicious and depraved, and +is suspected of being the desperate criminal who stole the handcuffs +out of Patrolman Hennessy's pocket in 1878 and walked away to escape +arrest. + +The other well-known type is the burglar who wears a collar. He is +always referred to as a Raffles in real life. He is invariably a +gentleman by daylight, breakfasting in a dress suit, and posing as a +paperhanger, while after dark he plies his nefarious occupation of +burglary. His mother is an extremely wealthy and respected resident +of Ocean Grove, and when he is conducted to his cell he asks at once +for a nail file and the _Police Gazette_. He always has a wife in +every State in the Union and fiancees in all the Territories, and the +newspapers print his matrimonial gallery out of their stock of cuts of +the ladies who were cured by only one bottle after having been given +up by five doctors, experiencing great relief after the first dose. + +The burglar wore a blue sweater. He was neither a Raffles nor one of +the chefs from Hell's Kitchen. The police would have been baffled +had they attempted to classify him. They have not yet heard of the +respectable, unassuming burglar who is neither above nor below his +station. + +This burglar of the third class began to prowl. He wore no masks, +dark lanterns, or gum shoes. He carried a 38-calibre revolver in his +pocket, and he chewed peppermint gum thoughtfully. + +The furniture of the house was swathed in its summer dust protectors. +The silver was far away in safe-deposit vaults. The burglar expected +no remarkable "haul." His objective point was that dimly lighted +room where the master of the house should be sleeping heavily +after whatever solace he had sought to lighten the burden of +his loneliness. A "touch" might be made there to the extent of +legitimate, fair professional profits--loose money, a watch, a +jewelled stick-pin--nothing exorbitant or beyond reason. He had seen +the window left open and had taken the chance. + +The burglar softly opened the door of the lighted room. The gas was +turned low. A man lay in the bed asleep. On the dresser lay many +things in confusion--a crumpled roll of bills, a watch, keys, three +poker chips, crushed cigars, a pink silk hair bow, and an unopened +bottle of bromo-seltzer for a bulwark in the morning. + +The burglar took three steps toward the dresser. The man in the bed +suddenly uttered a squeaky groan and opened his eyes. His right hand +slid under his pillow, but remained there. + +"Lay still," said the burglar in conversational tone. Burglars of the +third type do not hiss. The citizen in the bed looked at the round end +of the burglar's pistol and lay still. + +"Now hold up both your hands," commanded the burglar. + +The citizen had a little, pointed, brown-and-gray beard, like that +of a painless dentist. He looked solid, esteemed, irritable, and +disgusted. He sat up in bed and raised his right hand above his head. + +"Up with the other one," ordered the burglar. "You might be amphibious +and shoot with your left. You can count two, can't you? Hurry up, +now." + +"Can't raise the other one," said the citizen, with a contortion of +his lineaments. + +"What's the matter with it?" + +"Rheumatism in the shoulder." + +"Inflammatory?" + +"Was. The inflammation has gone down." The burglar stood for a moment +or two, holding his gun on the afflicted one. He glanced at the +plunder on the dresser and then, with a half-embarrassed air, back at +the man in the bed. Then he, too, made a sudden grimace. + +"Don't stand there making faces," snapped the citizen, bad-humouredly. +"If you've come to burgle why don't you do it? There's some stuff +lying around." + +"'Scuse me," said the burglar, with a grin; "but it just socked me +one, too. It's good for you that rheumatism and me happens to be old +pals. I got it in my left arm, too. Most anybody but me would have +popped you when you wouldn't hoist that left claw of yours." + +"How long have you had it?" inquired the citizen. + +"Four years. I guess that ain't all. Once you've got it, it's you for +a rheumatic life--that's my judgment." + +"Ever try rattlesnake oil?" asked the citizen, interestedly. + +"Gallons," said the burglar. "If all the snakes I've used the oil of +was strung out in a row they'd reach eight times as far as Saturn, and +the rattles could be heard at Valparaiso, Indiana, and back." + +"Some use Chiselum's Pills," remarked the citizen. + +"Fudge!" said the burglar. "Took 'em five months. No good. I had some +relief the year I tried Finkelham's Extract, Balm of Gilead poultices +and Potts's Pain Pulverizer; but I think it was the buckeye I carried +in my pocket what done the trick." + +"Is yours worse in the morning or at night?" asked the citizen. + +"Night," said the burglar; "just when I'm busiest. Say, take down that +arm of yours--I guess you won't--Say! did you ever try Blickerstaff's +Blood Builder?" + +"I never did. Does yours come in paroxysms or is it a steady pain?" + +The burglar sat down on the foot of the bed and rested his gun on his +crossed knee. + +"It jumps," said he. "It strikes me when I ain't looking for it. I had +to give up second-story work because I got stuck sometimes half-way +up. Tell you what--I don't believe the bloomin' doctors know what is +good for it." + +"Same here. I've spent a thousand dollars without getting any relief. +Yours swell any?" + +"Of mornings. And when it's goin' to rain--great Christopher!" + +"Me, too," said the citizen. "I can tell when a streak of humidity the +size of a table-cloth starts from Florida on its way to New York. And +if I pass a theatre where there's an 'East Lynne' matinee going on, +the moisture starts my left arm jumping like a toothache." + +"It's undiluted--hades!" said the burglar. + +"You're dead right," said the citizen. + +The burglar looked down at his pistol and thrust it into his pocket +with an awkward attempt at ease. + +"Say, old man," he said, constrainedly, "ever try opodeldoc?" + +"Slop!" said the citizen angrily. "Might as well rub on restaurant +butter." + +"Sure," concurred the burglar. "It's a salve suitable for little +Minnie when the kitty scratches her finger. I'll tell you what! We're +up against it. I only find one thing that eases her up. Hey? Little +old sanitary, ameliorating, lest-we-forget Booze. Say--this job's +off--'scuse me--get on your clothes and let's go out and have some. +'Scuse the liberty, but--ouch! There she goes again!" + +"For a week," said the citizen. "I haven't been able to dress myself +without help. I'm afraid Thomas is in bed, and--" + +"Climb out," said the burglar, "I'll help you get into your duds." + +The conventional returned as a tidal wave and flooded the citizen. He +stroked his brown-and-gray beard. + +"It's very unusual--" he began. + +"Here's your shirt," said the burglar, "fall out. I knew a man who +said Omberry's Ointment fixed him in two weeks so he could use both +hands in tying his four-in-hand." + +As they were going out the door the citizen turned and started back. + +"'Liked to forgot my money," he explained; "laid it on the dresser +last night." + +The burglar caught him by the right sleeve. + +"Come on," he said bluffly. "I ask you. Leave it alone. I've got the +price. Ever try witch hazel and oil of wintergreen?" + + + + +IX + +AT ARMS WITH MORPHEUS + + +I never could quite understand how Tom Hopkins came to make that +blunder, for he had been through a whole term at a medical +college--before he inherited his aunt's fortune--and had been +considered strong in therapeutics. + +We had been making a call together that evening, and afterward Tom +ran up to my rooms for a pipe and a chat before going on to his own +luxurious apartments. I had stepped into the other room for a moment +when I heard Tom sing out: + +"Oh, Billy, I'm going to take about four grains of quinine, if you +don't mind-- I'm feeling all blue and shivery. Guess I'm taking cold." + +"All right," I called back. "The bottle is on the second shelf. Take +it in a spoonful of that elixir of eucalyptus. It knocks the bitter +out." + +After I came back we sat by the fire and got our briars going. In +about eight minutes Tom sank back into a gentle collapse. + +I went straight to the medicine cabinet and looked. + +"You unmitigated hayseed!" I growled. "See what money will do for a +man's brains!" + +There stood the morphine bottle with the stopple out, just as Tom had +left it. + +I routed out another young M.D. who roomed on the floor above, and +sent him for old Doctor Gales, two squares away. Tom Hopkins has too +much money to be attended by rising young practitioners alone. + +When Gales came we put Tom through as expensive a course of treatment +as the resources of the profession permit. After the more drastic +remedies we gave him citrate of caffeine in frequent doses and strong +coffee, and walked him up and down the floor between two of us. Old +Gales pinched him and slapped his face and worked hard for the big +check he could see in the distance. The young M.D. from the next floor +gave Tom a most hearty, rousing kick, and then apologized to me. + +"Couldn't help it," he said. "I never kicked a millionaire before in +my life. I may never have another opportunity." + +"Now," said Doctor Gales, after a couple of hours, "he'll do. But keep +him awake for another hour. You can do that by talking to him and +shaking him up occasionally. When his pulse and respiration are normal +then let him sleep. I'll leave him with you now." + +I was left alone with Tom, whom we had laid on a couch. He lay very +still, and his eyes were half closed. I began my work of keeping him +awake. + +"Well, old man," I said, "you've had a narrow squeak, but we've pulled +you through. When you were attending lectures, Tom, didn't any of +the professors ever casually remark that m-o-r-p-h-i-a never spells +'quinia,' especially in four-grain doses? But I won't pile it up on +you until you get on your feet. But you ought to have been a druggist, +Tom; you're splendidly qualified to fill prescriptions." + +Tom looked at me with a faint and foolish smile. + +"B'ly," he murmured, "I feel jus' like a hum'n bird flyin' around a +jolly lot of most 'shpensive roses. Don' bozzer me. Goin' sleep now." + +And he went to sleep in two seconds. I shook him by the shoulder. + +"Now, Tom," I said, severely, "this won't do. The big doctor said you +must stay awake for at least an hour. Open your eyes. You're not +entirely safe yet, you know. Wake up." + +Tom Hopkins weighs one hundred and ninety-eight. He gave me another +somnolent grin, and fell into deeper slumber. I would have made him +move about, but I might as well have tried to make Cleopatra's needle +waltz around the room with me. Tom's breathing became stertorous, and +that, in connection with morphia poisoning, means danger. + +Then I began to think. I could not rouse his body; I must strive to +excite his mind. "Make him angry," was an idea that suggested itself. +"Good!" I thought; but how? There was not a joint in Tom's armour. +Dear old fellow! He was good nature itself, and a gallant gentleman, +fine and true and clean as sunlight. He came from somewhere down +South, where they still have ideals and a code. New York had charmed, +but had not spoiled, him. He had that old-fashioned chivalrous +reverence for women, that--Eureka!--there was my idea! I worked the +thing up for a minute or two in my imagination. I chuckled to myself +at the thought of springing a thing like that on old Tom Hopkins. Then +I took him by the shoulder and shook him till his ears flopped. He +opened his eyes lazily. I assumed an expression of scorn and contempt, +and pointed my finger within two inches of his nose. + +"Listen to me, Hopkins," I said, in cutting and distinct tones, "you +and I have been good friends, but I want you to understand that in the +future my doors are closed against any man who acts as much like a +scoundrel as you have." + +Tom looked the least bit interested. + +"What's the matter, Billy?" he muttered, composedly. "Don't your +clothes fit you?" + +"If I were in your place," I went on, "which, thank God, I am not, I +think I would be afraid to close my eyes. How about that girl you left +waiting for you down among those lonesome Southern pines--the girl +that you've forgotten since you came into your confounded money? Oh, +I know what I'm talking about. While you were a poor medical student +she was good enough for you. But now, since you are a millionaire, +it's different. I wonder what she thinks of the performances of that +peculiar class of people which she has been taught to worship--the +Southern gentlemen? I'm sorry, Hopkins, that I was forced to speak +about these matters, but you've covered it up so well and played your +part so nicely that I would have sworn you were above such unmanly +tricks." + +Poor Tom. I could scarcely keep from laughing outright to see him +struggling against the effects of the opiate. He was distinctly angry, +and I didn't blame him. Tom had a Southern temper. His eyes were +open now, and they showed a gleam or two of fire. But the drug still +clouded his mind and bound his tongue. + +"C-c-confound you," he stammered, "I'll s-smash you." + +He tried to rise from the couch. With all his size he was very weak +now. I thrust him back with one arm. He lay there glaring like a lion +in a trap. + +"That will hold you for a while, you old loony," I said to myself. I +got up and lit my pipe, for I was needing a smoke. I walked around a +bit, congratulating myself on my brilliant idea. + +I heard a snore. I looked around. Tom was asleep again. I walked over +and punched him on the jaw. He looked at me as pleasant and ungrudging +as an idiot. I chewed my pipe and gave it to him hard. + +"I want you to recover yourself and get out of my rooms as soon as +you can," I said, insultingly. "I've told you what I think of you. If +you have any honour or honesty left you will think twice before you +attempt again to associate with gentlemen. She's a poor girl, isn't +she?" I sneered. "Somewhat too plain and unfashionable for us since we +got our money. Be ashamed to walk on Fifth Avenue with her, wouldn't +you? Hopkins, you're forty-seven times worse than a cad. Who cares +for your money? I don't. I'll bet that girl don't. Perhaps if you +didn't have it you'd be more of a man. As it is you've made a cur +of yourself, and"--I thought that quite dramatic--"perhaps broken a +faithful heart." (Old Tom Hopkins breaking a faithful heart!) "Let me +be rid of you as soon as possible." + +I turned my back on Tom, and winked at myself in a mirror. I heard +him moving, and I turned again quickly. I didn't want a hundred and +ninety-eight pounds falling on me from the rear. But Tom had only +turned partly over, and laid one arm across his face. He spoke a few +words rather more distinctly than before. + +"I couldn't have--talked this way--to you, Billy, even if I'd heard +people--lyin' 'bout you. But jus' soon's I can s-stand up--I'll break +your neck--don' f'get it." + +I did feel a little ashamed then. But it was to save Tom. In the +morning, when I explained it, we would have a good laugh over it +together. + +In about twenty minutes Tom dropped into a sound, easy slumber. I felt +his pulse, listened to his respiration, and let him sleep. Everything +was normal, and Tom was safe. I went into the other room and tumbled +into bed. + +I found Tom up and dressed when I awoke the next morning. He was +entirely himself again with the exception of shaky nerves and a tongue +like a white-oak chip. + +"What an idiot I was," he said, thoughtfully. "I remember thinking +that quinine bottle looked queer while I was taking the dose. Have +much trouble in bringing me 'round?" + +I told him no. His memory seemed bad about the entire affair. I +concluded that he had no recollection of my efforts to keep him awake, +and decided not to enlighten him. Some other time, I thought, when he +was feeling better, we would have some fun over it. + +When Tom was ready to go he stopped, with the door open, and shook my +hand. + +"Much obliged, old fellow," he said, quietly, "for taking so much +trouble with me--and for what you said. I'm going down now to +telegraph to the little girl." + + + + +X + +A GHOST OF A CHANCE + + +"Actually, a _hod_!" repeated Mrs. Kinsolving, pathetically. + +Mrs. Bellamy Bellmore arched a sympathetic eyebrow. Thus she expressed +condolence and a generous amount of apparent surprise. + +"Fancy her telling everywhere," recapitulated Mrs. Kinsolving, "that +she saw a ghost in the apartment she occupied here--our choicest +guest-room--a ghost, carrying a hod on its shoulder--the ghost of +an old man in overalls, smoking a pipe and carrying a hod! The very +absurdity of the thing shows her malicious intent. There never was a +Kinsolving that carried a hod. Every one knows that Mr. Kinsolving's +father accumulated his money by large building contracts, but he never +worked a day with his own hands. He had this house built from his own +plans; but--oh, a hod! Why need she have been so cruel and malicious?" + +"It is really too bad," murmured Mrs. Bellmore, with an approving +glance of her fine eyes about the vast chamber done in lilac and old +gold. "And it was in this room she saw it! Oh, no, I'm not afraid of +ghosts. Don't have the least fear on my account. I'm glad you put me +in here. I think family ghosts so interesting! But, really, the story +does sound a little inconsistent. I should have expected something +better from Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins. Don't they carry bricks in hods? +Why should a ghost bring bricks into a villa built of marble and +stone? I'm so sorry, but it makes me think that age is beginning to +tell upon Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins." + +"This house," continued Mrs. Kinsolving, "was built upon the site of +an old one used by the family during the Revolution. There wouldn't +be anything strange in its having a ghost. And there was a Captain +Kinsolving who fought in General Greene's army, though we've never +been able to secure any papers to vouch for it. If there is to be a +family ghost, why couldn't it have been his, instead of a +bricklayer's?" + +"The ghost of a Revolutionary ancestor wouldn't be a bad idea," agreed +Mrs. Bellmore; "but you know how arbitrary and inconsiderate ghosts +can be. Maybe, like love, they are 'engendered in the eye.' One +advantage of those who see ghosts is that their stories can't be +disproved. By a spiteful eye, a Revolutionary knapsack might easily be +construed to be a hod. Dear Mrs. Kinsolving, think no more of it. I am +sure it was a knapsack." + +"But she told everybody!" mourned Mrs. Kinsolving, inconsolable. "She +insisted upon the details. There is the pipe. And how are you going to +get out of the overalls?" + +"Shan't get into them," said Mrs. Bellmore, with a prettily suppressed +yawn; "too stiff and wrinkly. Is that you, Felice? Prepare my bath, +please. Do you dine at seven at Clifftop, Mrs. Kinsolving? So kind of +you to run in for a chat before dinner! I love those little touches of +informality with a guest. They give such a home flavour to a visit. So +sorry; I must be dressing. I am so indolent I always postpone it until +the last moment." + +Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins had been the first large plum that the +Kinsolvings had drawn from the social pie. For a long time, the +pie itself had been out of reach on a top shelf. But the purse and +the pursuit had at last lowered it. Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins was the +heliograph of the smart society parading corps. The glitter of her wit +and actions passed along the line, transmitting whatever was latest +and most daring in the game of peep-show. Formerly, her fame and +leadership had been secure enough not to need the support of such +artifices as handing around live frogs for favours at a cotillon. But, +now, these things were necessary to the holding of her throne. Beside, +middle age had come to preside, incongruous, at her capers. The +sensational papers had cut her space from a page to two columns. +Her wit developed a sting; her manners became more rough and +inconsiderate, as if she felt the royal necessity of establishing +her autocracy by scorning the conventionalities that bound lesser +potentates. + +To some pressure at the command of the Kinsolvings, she had yielded +so far as to honour their house by her presence, for an evening and +night. She had her revenge upon her hostess by relating, with grim +enjoyment and sarcastic humour, her story of the vision carrying +the hod. To that lady, in raptures at having penetrated thus far +toward the coveted inner circle, the result came as a crushing +disappointment. Everybody either sympathized or laughed, and there +was little to choose between the two modes of expression. + +But, later on, Mrs. Kinsolving's hopes and spirits were revived by the +capture of a second and greater prize. + +Mrs. Bellamy Bellmore had accepted an invitation to visit at Clifftop, +and would remain for three days. Mrs. Bellmore was one of the younger +matrons, whose beauty, descent, and wealth gave her a reserved seat +in the holy of holies that required no strenuous bolstering. She was +generous enough thus to give Mrs. Kinsolving the accolade that was so +poignantly desired; and, at the same time, she thought how much it +would please Terence. Perhaps it would end by solving him. + +Terence was Mrs. Kinsolving's son, aged twenty-nine, quite +good-looking enough, and with two or three attractive and mysterious +traits. For one, he was very devoted to his mother, and that was +sufficiently odd to deserve notice. For others, he talked so little +that it was irritating, and he seemed either very shy or very deep. +Terence interested Mrs. Bellmore, because she was not sure which it +was. She intended to study him a little longer, unless she forgot +the matter. If he was only shy, she would abandon him, for shyness +is a bore. If he was deep, she would also abandon him, for depth is +precarious. + +On the afternoon of the third day of her visit, Terence hunted up Mrs. +Bellmore, and found her in a nook actually looking at an album. + +"It's so good of you," said he, "to come down here and retrieve the +day for us. I suppose you have heard that Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins +scuttled the ship before she left. She knocked a whole plank out of +the bottom with a hod. My mother is grieving herself ill about it. +Can't you manage to see a ghost for us while you are here, Mrs. +Bellmore--a bang-up, swell ghost, with a coronet on his head and a +cheque book under his arm?" + +"That was a naughty old lady, Terence," said Mrs. Bellmore, "to tell +such stories. Perhaps you gave her too much supper. Your mother +doesn't really take it seriously, does she?" + +"I think she does," answered Terence. "One would think every brick +in the hod had dropped on her. It's a good mammy, and I don't like +to see her worried. It's to be hoped that the ghost belongs to the +hod-carriers' union, and will go out on a strike. If he doesn't, there +will be no peace in this family." + +"I'm sleeping in the ghost-chamber," said Mrs. Bellmore, pensively. +"But it's so nice I wouldn't change it, even if I were afraid, +which I'm not. It wouldn't do for me to submit a counter story of a +desirable, aristocratic shade, would it? I would do so, with pleasure, +but it seems to me it would be too obviously an antidote for the other +narrative to be effective." + +"True," said Terence, running two fingers thoughtfully into his crisp, +brown hair; "that would never do. How would it work to see the same +ghost again, minus the overalls, and have gold bricks in the hod? That +would elevate the spectre from degrading toil to a financial plane. +Don't you think that would be respectable enough?" + +"There was an ancestor who fought against the Britishers, wasn't +there? Your mother said something to that effect." + +"I believe so; one of those old chaps in raglan vests and golf +trousers. I don't care a continental for a Continental, myself. But +the mother has set her heart on pomp and heraldry and pyrotechnics, +and I want her to be happy." + +"You are a good boy, Terence," said Mrs. Bellmore, sweeping her silks +close to one side of her, "not to beat your mother. Sit here by me, +and let's look at the album, just as people used to do twenty years +ago. Now, tell me about every one of them. Who is this tall, dignified +gentleman leaning against the horizon, with one arm on the Corinthian +column?" + +"That old chap with the big feet?" inquired Terence, craning his neck. +"That's great-uncle O'Brannigan. He used to keep a rathskeller on the +Bowery." + +"I asked you to sit down, Terence. If you are not going to amuse, or +obey, me, I shall report in the morning that I saw a ghost wearing an +apron and carrying schooners of beer. Now, that is better. To be shy, +at your age, Terence, is a thing that you should blush to +acknowledge." + + + +At breakfast on the last morning of her visit, Mrs. Bellmore startled +and entranced every one present by announcing positively that she had +seen the ghost. + +"Did it have a--a--a--?" Mrs. Kinsolving, in her suspense and +agitation, could not bring out the word. + +"No, indeed--far from it." + +There was a chorus of questions from others at the table. "Weren't +you frightened?" "What did it do?" "How did it look?" "How was it +dressed?" "Did it say anything?" "Didn't you scream?" + +"I'll try to answer everything at once," said Mrs. Bellmore, +heroically, "although I'm frightfully hungry. Something awakened +me--I'm not sure whether it was a noise or a touch--and there stood +the phantom. I never burn a light at night, so the room was quite +dark, but I saw it plainly. I wasn't dreaming. It was a tall man, +all misty white from head to foot. It wore the full dress of the old +Colonial days--powdered hair, baggy coat skirts, lace ruffles, and +a sword. It looked intangible and luminous in the dark, and moved +without a sound. Yes, I was a little frightened at first--or startled, +I should say. It was the first ghost I had ever seen. No, it didn't +say anything. I didn't scream. I raised up on my elbow, and then it +glided silently away, and disappeared when it reached the door." + +Mrs. Kinsolving was in the seventh heaven. "The description is that of +Captain Kinsolving, of General Greene's army, one of our ancestors," +she said, in a voice that trembled with pride and relief. "I really +think I must apologize for our ghostly relative, Mrs. Bellmore. I am +afraid he must have badly disturbed your rest." + +Terence sent a smile of pleased congratulation toward his mother. +Attainment was Mrs. Kinsolving's, at last, and he loved to see her +happy. + +"I suppose I ought to be ashamed to confess," said Mrs. Bellmore, who +was now enjoying her breakfast, "that I wasn't very much disturbed. +I presume it would have been the customary thing to scream and faint, +and have all of you running about in picturesque costumes. But, after +the first alarm was over, I really couldn't work myself up to a panic. +The ghost retired from the stage quietly and peacefully, after doing +its little turn, and I went to sleep again." + +Nearly all listened, politely accepted Mrs. Bellmore s story as a +made-up affair, charitably offered as an offset to the unkind vision +seen by Mrs. Fischer-Suympkins. But one or two present perceived that +her assertions bore the genuine stamp of her own convictions. Truth +and candour seemed to attend upon every word. Even a scoffer at +ghosts--if he were very observant--would have been forced to admit +that she had, at least in a very vivid dream, been honestly aware of +the weird visitor.' + +Soon Mrs. Bellmore's maid was packing. In two hours the auto would +come to convey her to the station. As Terence was strolling upon the +east piazza, Mrs. Bellmore came up to him, with a confidential sparkle +in her eye. + +"I didn't wish to tell the others all of it," she said, "but I will +tell you. In a way, I think you should be held responsible. Can you +guess in what manner that ghost awakened me last night?" + +"Rattled chains," suggested Terence, after some thought, "or groaned? +They usually do one or the other." + +"Do you happen to know," continued Mrs. Bellmore, with sudden +irrelevancy, "if I resemble any one of the female relatives of your +restless ancestor, Captain Kinsolving?" + +"Don't think so," said Terence, with an extremely puzzled air. "Never +heard of any of them being noted beauties." + +"Then, why," said Mrs. Bellmore, looking the young man gravely in the +eye, "should that ghost have kissed me, as I'm sure it did?" + +"Heavens!" exclaimed Terence, in wide-eyed amazement; "you don't mean +that, Mrs. Bellmore! Did he actually kiss you?" + +"I said _it_," corrected Mrs. Bellmore. "I hope the impersonal pronoun +is correctly used." + +"But why did you say I was responsible?" + +"Because you are the only living male relative of the ghost." + +"I see. 'Unto the third and fourth generation.' But, seriously, did +he--did it--how do you--?" + +"Know? How does any one know? I was asleep, and that is what awakened +me, I'm almost certain." + +"Almost?" + +"Well, I awoke just as--oh, can't you understand what I mean? When +anything arouses you suddenly, you are not positive whether you +dreamed, or--and yet you know that-- Dear me, Terence, must I dissect +the most elementary sensations in order to accommodate your extremely +practical intelligence?" + +"But, about kissing ghosts, you know," said Terence, humbly, "I +require the most primary instruction. I never kissed a ghost. Is +it--is it--?" + +"The sensation," said Mrs. Bellmore, with deliberate, but slightly +smiling, emphasis, "since you are seeking instruction, is a mingling +of the material and the spiritual." + +"Of course," said Terence, suddenly growing serious, "it was a dream +or some kind of an hallucination. Nobody believes in spirits, these +days. If you told the tale out of kindness of heart, Mrs. Bellmore, +I can't express how grateful I am to you. It has made my mother +supremely happy. That Revolutionary ancestor was a stunning idea." + +Mrs. Bellmore sighed. "The usual fate of ghost-seers is mine," she +said, resignedly. "My privileged encounter with a spirit is attributed +to lobster salad or mendacity. Well, I have, at least, one memory left +from the wreck--a kiss from the unseen world. Was Captain Kinsolving a +very brave man, do you know, Terence?" + +"He was licked at Yorktown, I believe," said Terence, reflecting. +"They say he skedaddled with his company, after the first battle +there." + +"I thought he must have been timid," said Mrs. Bellmore, absently. "He +might have had another." + +"Another battle?" asked Terence, dully. + +"What else could I mean? I must go and get ready now; the auto will +be here in an hour. I've enjoyed Clifftop immensely. Such a lovely +morning, isn't it, Terence?" + +On her way to the station, Mrs. Bellmore took from her bag a silk +handkerchief, and looked at it with a little peculiar smile. Then she +tied it in several very hard knots, and threw it, at a convenient +moment, over the edge of the cliff along which the road ran. + +In his room, Terence was giving some directions to his man, Brooks. +"Have this stuff done up in a parcel," he said, "and ship it to the +address on that card." + +The card was that of a New York costumer. The "stuff" was a +gentleman's costume of the days of '76, made of white satin, with +silver buckles, white silk stockings, and white kid shoes. A powdered +wig and a sword completed the dress. + +"And look about, Brooks," added Terence, a little anxiously, "for a +silk handkerchief with my initials in one corner. I must have dropped +it somewhere." + +It was a month later when Mrs. Bellmore and one or two others of +the smart crowd were making up a list of names for a coaching trip +through the Catskills. Mrs. Bellmore looked over the list for a final +censoring. The name of Terence Kinsolving was there. Mrs. Bellmore ran +her prohibitive pencil lightly through the name. + +"Too shy!" she murmured, sweetly, in explanation. + + + + +XI + +JIMMY HAYES AND MURIEL + + +I + + +Supper was over, and there had fallen upon the camp the silence that +accompanies the rolling of corn-husk cigarettes. The water hole shone +from the dark earth like a patch of fallen sky. Coyotes yelped. Dull +thumps indicated the rocking-horse movements of the hobbled ponies as +they moved to fresh grass. A half-troop of the Frontier Battalion of +Texas Rangers were distributed about the fire. + +A well-known sound--the fluttering and scraping of chaparral against +wooden stirrups--came from the thick brush above the camp. The rangers +listened cautiously. They heard a loud and cheerful voice call out +reassuringly: + +"Brace up, Muriel, old girl, we're 'most there now! Been a long +ride for ye, ain't it, ye old antediluvian handful of animated +carpet-tacks? Hey, now, quit a tryin' to kiss me! Don't hold on to my +neck so tight--this here paint hoss ain't any too shore-footed, let me +tell ye. He's liable to dump us both off if we don't watch out." + +Two minutes of waiting brought a tired "paint" pony single-footing +into camp. A gangling youth of twenty lolled in the saddle. Of the +"Muriel" whom he had been addressing, nothing was to be seen. + +"Hi, fellows!" shouted the rider cheerfully. "This here's a letter fer +Lieutenant Manning." + +He dismounted, unsaddled, dropped the coils of his stake-rope, and +got his hobbles from the saddle-horn. While Lieutenant Manning, in +command, was reading the letter, the newcomer, rubbed solicitously at +some dried mud in the loops of the hobbles, showing a consideration +for the forelegs of his mount. + +"Boys," said the lieutenant, waving his hand to the rangers, "this +is Mr. James Hayes. He's a new member of the company. Captain McLean +sends him down from El Paso. The boys will see that you have some +supper, Hayes, as soon as you get your pony hobbled." + +The recruit was received cordially by the rangers. Still, they +observed him shrewdly and with suspended judgment. Picking a comrade +on the border is done with ten times the care and discretion with +which a girl chooses a sweetheart. On your "side-kicker's" nerve, +loyalty, aim, and coolness your own life may depend many times. + +After a hearty supper Hayes joined the smokers about the fire. +His appearance did not settle all the questions in the minds of +his brother rangers. They saw simply a loose, lank youth with +tow-coloured, sun-burned hair and a berry-brown, ingenuous face that +wore a quizzical, good-natured smile. + +"Fellows," said the new ranger, "I'm goin' to interduce to you a lady +friend of mine. Ain't ever heard anybody call her a beauty, but you'll +all admit she's got some fine points about her. Come along, Muriel!" + +He held open the front of his blue flannel shirt. Out of it crawled a +horned frog. A bright red ribbon was tied jauntily around its spiky +neck. It crawled to its owner's knee and sat there, motionless. + +"This here Muriel," said Hayes, with an oratorical wave of his hand, +"has got qualities. She never talks back, she always stays at home, +and she's satisfied with one red dress for every day and Sunday, too." + +"Look at that blame insect!" said one of the rangers with a grin. +"I've seen plenty of them horny frogs, but I never knew anybody to +have one for a side-partner. Does the blame thing know you from +anybody else?" + +"Take it over there and see," said Hayes. + +The stumpy little lizard known as the horned frog is harmless. He has +the hideousness of the prehistoric monsters whose reduced descendant +he is, but he is gentler than the dove. + +The ranger took Muriel from Hayes's knee and went back to his seat +on a roll of blankets. The captive twisted and clawed and struggled +vigorously in his hand. After holding it for a moment or two, the +ranger set it upon the ground. Awkwardly, but swiftly the frog worked +its four oddly moving legs until it stopped close by Hayes's foot. + +"Well, dang my hide!" said the other ranger. "The little cuss knows +you. Never thought them insects had that much sense!" + + + +II + + +Jimmy Hayes became a favourite in the ranger camp. He had an endless +store of good-nature, and a mild, perennial quality of humour that is +well adapted to camp life. He was never without his horned frog. In +the bosom of his shirt during rides, on his knee or shoulder in camp, +under his blankets at night, the ugly little beast never left him. + +Jimmy was a humourist of a type that prevails in the rural South +and West. Unskilled in originating methods of amusing or in witty +conceptions, he had hit upon a comical idea and clung to it +reverently. It had seemed to Jimmy a very funny thing to have about +his person, with which to amuse his friends, a tame horned frog with a +red ribbon around its neck. As it was a happy idea, why not perpetuate +it? + +The sentiments existing between Jimmy and the frog cannot be exactly +determined. The capability of the horned frog for lasting affection +is a subject upon which we have had no symposiums. It is easier to +guess Jimmy's feelings. Muriel was his _chef d'oeuvre_ of wit, and as +such he cherished her. He caught flies for her, and shielded her from +sudden northers. Yet his care was half selfish, and when the time came +she repaid him a thousand fold. Other Muriels have thus overbalanced +the light attentions of other Jimmies. + +Not at once did Jimmy Hayes attain full brotherhood with his comrades. +They loved him for his simplicity and drollness, but there hung above +him a great sword of suspended judgment. To make merry in camp is not +all of a ranger's life. There are horse-thieves to trail, desperate +criminals to run down, bravos to battle with, bandits to rout out of +the chaparral, peace and order to be compelled at the muzzle of a +six-shooter. Jimmy had been "'most generally a cow-puncher," he said; +he was inexperienced in ranger methods of warfare. Therefore the +rangers speculated apart and solemnly as to how he would stand fire. +For, let it be known, the honour and pride of each ranger company is +the individual bravery of its members. + +For two months the border was quiet. The rangers lolled, listless, +in camp. And then--bringing joy to the rusting guardians of the +frontier--Sebastiano Saldar, an eminent Mexican desperado and +cattle-thief, crossed the Rio Grande with his gang and began to lay +waste the Texas side. There were indications that Jimmy Hayes would +soon have the opportunity to show his mettle. The rangers patrolled +with alacrity, but Saldar's men were mounted like Lochinvar, and were +hard to catch. + +One evening, about sundown, the rangers halted for supper after a +long ride. Their horses stood panting, with their saddles on. The +men were frying bacon and boiling coffee. Suddenly, out of the +brush, Sebastiano Saldar and his gang dashed upon them with blazing +six-shooters and high-voiced yells. It was a neat surprise. The +rangers swore in annoyed tones, and got their Winchesters busy; but +the attack was only a spectacular dash of the purest Mexican type. +After the florid demonstration the raiders galloped away, yelling, +down the river. The rangers mounted and pursued; but in less than two +miles the fagged ponies laboured so that Lieutenant Manning gave the +word to abandon the chase and return to the camp. + +Then it was discovered that Jimmy Hayes was missing. Some one +remembered having seen him run for his pony when the attack began, but +no one had set eyes on him since. Morning came, but no Jimmy. They +searched the country around, on the theory that he had been killed or +wounded, but without success. Then they followed after Saldar's gang, +but it seemed to have disappeared. Manning concluded that the wily +Mexican had recrossed the river after his theatric farewell. And, +indeed, no further depredations from him were reported. + +This gave the rangers time to nurse a soreness they had. As has been +said, the pride and honour of the company is the individual bravery of +its members. And now they believed that Jimmy Hayes had turned coward +at the whiz of Mexican bullets. There was no other deduction. Buck +Davis pointed out that not a shot was fired by Saldar's gang after +Jimmy was seen running for his horse. There was no way for him to +have been shot. No, he had fled from his first fight, and afterward +he would not return, aware that the scorn of his comrades would be a +worse thing to face than the muzzles of many rifles. + +So Manning's detachment of McLean's company, Frontier Battalion, was +gloomy. It was the first blot on its escutcheon. Never before in the +history of the service had a ranger shown the white feather. All of +them had liked Jimmy Hayes, and that made it worse. + +Days, weeks, and months went by, and still that little cloud of +unforgotten cowardice hung above the camp. + + + +III + + +Nearly a year afterward--after many camping grounds and many hundreds +of miles guarded and defended--Lieutenant Manning, with almost the +same detachment of men, was sent to a point only a few miles below +their old camp on the river to look after some smuggling there. One +afternoon, while they were riding through a dense mesquite flat, they +came upon a patch of open hog-wallow prairie. There they rode upon the +scene of an unwritten tragedy. + +In a big hog-wallow lay the skeletons of three Mexicans. Their +clothing alone served to identify them. The largest of the figures had +once been Sebastiano Saldar. His great, costly sombrero, heavy with +gold ornamentation--a hat famous all along the Rio Grande--lay there +pierced by three bullets. Along the ridge of the hog-wallow rested +the rusting Winchesters of the Mexicans--all pointing in the same +direction. + +The rangers rode in that direction for fifty yards. There, in a little +depression of the ground, with his rifle still bearing upon the three, +lay another skeleton. It had been a battle of extermination. There was +nothing to identify the solitary defender. His clothing--such as the +elements had left distinguishable--seemed to be of the kind that any +ranchman or cowboy might have worn. + +"Some cow-puncher," said Manning, "that they caught out alone. Good +boy! He put up a dandy scrap before they got him. So that's why we +didn't hear from Don Sebastiano any more!" + +And then, from beneath the weather-beaten rags of the dead man, there +wriggled out a horned frog with a faded red ribbon around its neck, +and sat upon the shoulder of its long quiet master. Mutely it told the +story of the untried youth and the swift "paint" pony--how they had +outstripped all their comrades that day in the pursuit of the Mexican +raiders, and how the boy had gone down upholding the honour of the +company. + +The ranger troop herded close, and a simultaneous wild yell arose from +their lips. The outburst was at once a dirge, an apology, an epitaph, +and a paean of triumph. A strange requiem, you may say, over the body +of a fallen, comrade; but if Jimmy Hayes could have heard it he would +have understood. + + + + +XII + +THE DOOR OF UNREST + + +I sat an hour by sun, in the editor's room of the Montopolis _Weekly +Bugle_. I was the editor. + +The saffron rays of the declining sunlight filtered through the +cornstalks in Micajah Widdup's garden-patch, and cast an amber glory +upon my paste-pot. I sat at the editorial desk in my non-rotary +revolving chair, and prepared my editorial against the oligarchies. +The room, with its one window, was already a prey to the twilight. +One by one, with my trenchant sentences, I lopped off the heads of +the political hydra, while I listened, full of kindly peace, to the +home-coming cow-bells and wondered what Mrs. Flanagan was going to +have for supper. + +Then in from the dusky, quiet street there drifted and perched himself +upon a corner of my desk old Father Time's younger brother. His +face was beardless and as gnarled as an English walnut. I never saw +clothes such as he wore. They would have reduced Joseph's coat to a +monochrome. But the colours were not the dyer's. Stains and patches +and the work of sun and rust were responsible for the diversity. On +his coarse shoes was the dust, conceivably, of a thousand leagues. +I can describe him no further, except to say that he was little and +weird and old--old I began to estimate in centuries when I saw him. +Yes, and I remember that there was an odour, a faint odour like aloes, +or possibly like myrrh or leather; and I thought of museums. + +And then I reached for a pad and pencil, for business is business, and +visits of the oldest inhabitants are sacred and honourable, requiring +to be chronicled. + +"I am glad to see you, sir," I said. "I would offer you a chair, +but--you see, sir," I went on, "I have lived in Montopolis only three +weeks, and I have not met many of our citizens." I turned a doubtful +eye upon his dust-stained shoes, and concluded with a newspaper +phrase, "I suppose that you reside in our midst?" + +My visitor fumbled in his raiment, drew forth a soiled card, and +handed it to me. Upon it was written, in plain but unsteadily formed +characters, the name "Michob Ader." + +"I am glad you called, Mr. Ader," I said. "As one of our older +citizens, you must view with pride the recent growth and enterprise of +Montopolis. Among other improvements, I think I can promise that the +town will now be provided with a live, enterprising newspa--" + +"Do ye know the name on that card?" asked my caller, interrupting me. + +"It is not a familiar one to me," I said. + +Again he visited the depths of his ancient vestments. This time he +brought out a torn leaf of some book or journal, brown and flimsy with +age. The heading of the page was the _Turkish Spy_ in old-style type; +the printing upon it was this: + +"There is a man come to Paris in this year 1643 who pretends to have +lived these sixteen hundred years. He says of himself that he was a +shoemaker in Jerusalem at the time of the Crucifixion; that his name +is Michob Ader; and that when Jesus, the Christian Messias, was +condemned by Pontius Pilate, the Roman president, he paused to rest +while bearing his cross to the place of crucifixion before the door of +Michob Ader. The shoemaker struck Jesus with his fist, saying: 'Go; +why tarriest thou?' The Messias answered him: 'I indeed am going; but +thou shalt tarry until I come'; thereby condemning him to live until +the day of judgment. He lives forever, but at the end of every hundred +years he falls into a fit or trance, on recovering from which he finds +himself in the same state of youth in which he was when Jesus +suffered, being then about thirty years of age. + +"Such is the story of the Wandering Jew, as told by Michob Ader, who +relates--" Here the printing ended. + +I must have muttered aloud something to myself about the Wandering +Jew, for the old man spake up, bitterly and loudly. + +"'Tis a lie," said he, "like nine tenths of what ye call history. 'Tis +a Gentile I am, and no Jew. I am after footing it out of Jerusalem, +my son; but if that makes me a Jew, then everything that comes out of +a bottle is babies' milk. Ye have my name on the card ye hold; and ye +have read the bit of paper they call the _Turkish Spy_ that printed +the news when I stepped into their office on the 12th day of June, in +the year 1643, just as I have called upon ye to-day." + +I laid down my pencil and pad. Clearly it would not do. Here was an +item for the local column of the _Bugle_ that--but it would not do. +Still, fragments of the impossible "personal" began to flit through +my conventionalized brain. "Uncle Michob is as spry on his legs as a +young chap of only a thousand or so." "Our venerable caller relates +with pride that George Wash--no, Ptolemy the Great--once dandled him +on his knee at his father's house." "Uncle Michob says that our wet +spring was nothing in comparison with the dampness that ruined the +crops around Mount Ararat when he was a boy--" But no, no--it would +not do. + +I was trying to think of some conversational subject with which to +interest my visitor, and was hesitating between walking matches and +the Pliocene age, when the old man suddenly began to weep poignantly +and distressfully. + +"Cheer up, Mr. Ader," I said, a little awkwardly; "this matter may +blow over in a few hundred years more. There has already been a +decided reaction in favour of Judas Iscariot and Colonel Burr and the +celebrated violinist, Signor Nero. This is the age of whitewash. You +must not allow yourself to become down-hearted." + +Unknowingly, I had struck a chord. The old man blinked belligerently +through his senile tears. + +"'Tis time," he said, "that the liars be doin' justice to somebody. +Yer historians are no more than a pack of old women gabblin' at a +wake. A finer man than the Imperor Nero niver wore sandals. Man, I was +at the burnin' of Rome. I knowed the Imperor well, for in them days I +was a well-known char-acter. In thim days they had rayspect for a man +that lived forever. + +"But 'twas of the Imperor Nero I was goin' to tell ye. I struck into +Rome, up the Appian Way, on the night of July the 16th, the year 64. I +had just stepped down by way of Siberia and Afghanistan; and one foot +of me had a frost-bite, and the other a blister burned by the sand of +the desert; and I was feelin' a bit blue from doin' patrol duty from +the North Pole down to the Last Chance corner in Patagonia, and bein' +miscalled a Jew in the bargain. Well, I'm tellin' ye I was passin' +the Circus Maximus, and it was dark as pitch over the way, and then I +heard somebody sing out, 'Is that you, Michob?' + +"Over ag'inst the wall, hid out amongst a pile of barrels and old +dry-goods boxes, was the Imperor Nero wid his togy wrapped around his +toes, smokin' a long, black segar. + +"'Have one, Michob?' says he. + +"'None of the weeds for me,' says I--'nayther pipe nor segar. What's +the use,' says I, 'of smokin' when ye've not got the ghost of a chance +of killin' yeself by doin' it?' + +"'True for ye, Michob Ader, my perpetual Jew,' says the Imperor; +'ye're not always wandering. Sure, 'tis danger gives the spice of our +pleasures--next to their bein' forbidden.' + +"'And for what,' says I, 'do ye smoke be night in dark places widout +even a cinturion in plain clothes to attend ye?' + +"'Have ye ever heard, Michob,' says the Imperor, 'of +predestinarianism?' + +"'I've had the cousin of it,' says I. 'I've been on the trot with +pedestrianism for many a year, and more to come, as ye well know.' + +"'The longer word,' says me friend Nero, 'is the tachin' of this new +sect of people they call the Christians. 'Tis them that's raysponsible +for me smokin' be night in holes and corners of the dark.' + +"And then I sets down and takes off a shoe and rubs me foot that is +frosted, and the Imperor tells me about it. It seems that since I +passed that way before, the Imperor had mandamused the Impress wid +a divorce suit, and Misses Poppaea, a cilibrated lady, was ingaged, +widout riferences, as housekeeper at the palace. 'All in one day,' +says the Imperor, 'she puts up new lace windy-curtains in the palace +and joins the anti-tobacco society, and whin I feels the need of a +smoke I must be after sneakin' out to these piles of lumber in the +dark.' So there in the dark me and the Imperor sat, and I told him of +me travels. And when they say the Imperor was an incindiary, they lie. +'Twas that night the fire started that burnt the city. 'Tis my opinion +that it began from a stump of segar that he threw down among the +boxes. And 'tis a lie that he fiddled. He did all he could for six +days to stop it, sir." + +And now I detected a new flavour to Mr. Michob Ader. It had not been +myrrh or balm or hyssop that I had smelled. The emanation was the +odour of bad whiskey--and, worse still, of low comedy--the sort that +small humorists manufacture by clothing the grave and reverend things +of legend and history in the vulgar, topical frippery that passes for +a certain kind of wit. Michob Ader as an impostor, claiming nineteen +hundred years, and playing his part with the decency of respectable +lunacy, I could endure; but as a tedious wag, cheapening his egregious +story with song-book levity, his importance as an entertainer grew +less. + +And then, as if he suspected my thoughts, he suddenly shifted his key. + +"You'll excuse me, sir," he whined, "but sometimes I get a little +mixed in my head. I am a very old man; and it is hard to remember +everything." + +I knew that he was right, and that I should not try to reconcile him +with Roman history; so I asked for news concerning other ancients with +whom he had walked familiar. + +Above my desk hung an engraving of Raphael's cherubs. You could yet +make out their forms, though the dust blurred their outlines +strangely. + +"Ye calls them 'cher-rubs'," cackled the old man. "Babes, ye +fancy they are, with wings. And there's one wid legs and a bow +and arrow that ye call Cupid--I know where they was found. The +great-great-great-grandfather of thim all was a billy-goat. Bein' an +editor, sir, do ye happen to know where Solomon s Temple stood?" + +I fancied that it was in--in Persia? Well, I did not know. + +"'Tis not in history nor in the Bible where it was. But I saw it, +meself. The first pictures of cher-rubs and cupids was sculptured upon +thim walls and pillars. Two of the biggest, sir, stood in the adytum +to form the baldachin over the Ark. But the wings of thim sculptures +was intindid for horns. And the faces was the faces of goats. Ten +thousand goats there was in and about the temple. And your cher-rubs +was billy-goats in the days of King Solomon, but the painters +misconstrued the horns into wings. + +"And I knew Tamerlane, the lame Timour, sir, very well. I saw him at +Keghut and at Zaranj. He was a little man no larger than yerself, with +hair the colour of an amber pipe stem. They buried him at Samarkand. +I was at the wake, sir. Oh, he was a fine-built man in his coffin, +six feet long, with black whiskers to his face. And I see 'em throw +turnips at the Imperor Vispacian in Africa. All over the world I +have tramped, sir, without the body of me findin' any rest. 'Twas +so commanded. I saw Jerusalem destroyed, and Pompeii go up in the +fireworks; and I was at the coronation of Charlemagne and the lynchin' +of Joan of Arc. And everywhere I go there comes storms and revolutions +and plagues and fires. 'Twas so commanded. Ye have heard of the +Wandering Jew. 'Tis all so, except that divil a bit am I a Jew. But +history lies, as I have told ye. Are ye quite sure, sir, that ye +haven't a drop of whiskey convenient? Ye well know that I have many +miles of walking before me." + +"I have none," said I, "and, if you please, I am about to leave for my +supper." + +I pushed my chair back creakingly. This ancient landlubber was +becoming as great an affliction as any cross-bowed mariner. He shook a +musty effluvium from his piebald clothes, overturned my inkstand, and +went on with his insufferable nonsense. + +"I wouldn't mind it so much," he complained, "if it wasn't for the +work I must do on Good Fridays. Ye know about Pontius Pilate, sir, of +course. His body, whin he killed himself, was pitched into a lake on +the Alps mountains. Now, listen to the job that 'tis mine to perform +on the night of ivery Good Friday. The ould divil goes down in the +pool and drags up Pontius, and the water is bilin' and spewin' like a +wash pot. And the ould divil sets the body on top of a throne on the +rocks, and thin comes me share of the job. Oh, sir, ye would pity me +thin--ye would pray for the poor Wandering Jew that niver was a Jew if +ye could see the horror of the thing that I must do. 'Tis I that must +fetch a bowl of water and kneel down before it till it washes its +hands. I declare to ye that Pontius Pilate, a man dead two hundred +years, dragged up with the lake slime coverin' him and fishes +wrigglin' inside of him widout eyes, and in the discomposition of the +body, sits there, sir, and washes his hands in the bowl I hold for him +on Good Fridays. 'Twas so commanded." + +Clearly, the matter had progressed far beyond the scope of the +_Bugle's_ local column. There might have been employment here for the +alienist or for those who circulate the pledge; but I had had enough +of it. I got up, and repeated that I must go. + +At this he seized my coat, grovelled upon my desk, and burst again +into distressful weeping. Whatever it was about, I said to myself that +his grief was genuine. + +"Come now, Mr. Ader," I said, soothingly; "what is the matter?" + +The answer came brokenly through his racking sobs: + +"Because I would not . . . let the poor Christ . . . rest . . . upon +the step." + +His hallucination seemed beyond all reasonable answer; yet the effect +of it upon him scarcely merited disrespect. But I knew nothing that +might assuage it; and I told him once more that both of us should be +leaving the office at once. + +Obedient at last, he raised himself from my dishevelled desk, and +permitted me to half lift him to the floor. The gale of his grief had +blown away his words; his freshet of tears had soaked away the crust +of his grief. Reminiscence died in him--at least, the coherent part of +it. + +"'Twas me that did it," he muttered, as I led him toward the +door--"me, the shoemaker of Jerusalem." + +I got him to the sidewalk, and in the augmented light I saw that his +face was seared and lined and warped by a sadness almost incredibly +the product of a single lifetime. + +And then high up in the firmamental darkness we heard the clamant +cries of some great, passing birds. My Wandering Jew lifted his hand, +with side-tilted head. + +"The Seven Whistlers!" he said, as one introduces well-known friends. + +"Wild geese," said I; "but I confess that their number is beyond me." + +"They follow me everywhere," he said. "'Twas so commanded. What ye +hear is the souls of the seven Jews that helped with the Crucifixion. +Sometimes they're plovers and sometimes geese, but ye'll find them +always flyin' where I go." + +I stood, uncertain how to take my leave. I looked down the street, +shuffled my feet, looked back again--and felt my hair rise. The old +man had disappeared. + +And then my capillaries relaxed, for I dimly saw him footing it away +through the darkness. But he walked so swiftly and silently and +contrary to the gait promised by his age that my composure was not all +restored, though I knew not why. + +That night I was foolish enough to take down some dust-covered +volumes from my modest shelves. I searched "Hermippus Redivvus" and +"Salathiel" and the "Pepys Collection" in vain. And then in a book +called "The Citizen of the World," and in one two centuries old, I +came upon what I desired. Michob Ader had indeed come to Paris in the +year 1643, and related to the _Turkish Spy_ an extraordinary story. He +claimed to be the Wandering Jew, and that-- + +But here I fell asleep, for my editorial duties had not been light +that day. + +Judge Hoover was the _Bugle's_ candidate for congress. Having to +confer with him, I sought his home early the next morning; and we +walked together down town through a little street with which I was +unfamiliar. + +"Did you ever hear of Michob Ader?" I asked him, smiling. + +"Why, yes," said the judge. "And that reminds me of my shoes he has +for mending. Here is his shop now." + +Judge Hoover stepped into a dingy, small shop. I looked up at the +sign, and saw "Mike O'Bader, Boot and Shoe Maker," on it. Some wild +geese passed above, honking clearly. I scratched my ear and frowned, +and then trailed into the shop. + +There sat my Wandering Jew on his shoemaker's bench, trimming a +half-sole. He was drabbled with dew, grass-stained, unkempt, and +miserable; and on his face was still the unexplained wretchedness, the +problematic sorrow, the esoteric woe, that had been written there by +nothing less, it seemed, than the stylus of the centuries. + +Judge Hoover inquired kindly concerning his shoes. The old shoemaker +looked up, and spoke sanely enough. He had been ill, he said, for a +few days. The next day the shoes would be ready. He looked at me, and +I could see that I had no place in his memory. So out we went, and on +our way. + +"Old Mike," remarked the candidate, "has been on one of his sprees. He +gets crazy drunk regularly once a month. But he's a good shoemaker." + +"What is his history?" I inquired. + +"Whiskey," epitomized Judge Hoover. "That explains him." + +I was silent, but I did not accept the explanation. And so, when I had +the chance, I asked old man Sellers, who browsed daily on my +exchanges. + +"Mike O'Bader," said he, "was makin' shoes in Montopolis when I come +here goin' on fifteen year ago. I guess whiskey's his trouble. Once a +month he gets off the track, and stays so a week. He's got a rigmarole +somethin' about his bein' a Jew pedler that he tells ev'rybody. +Nobody won't listen to him any more. When he's sober he ain't sich a +fool--he's got a sight of books in the back room of his shop that he +reads. I guess you can lay all his trouble to whiskey." + +But again I would not. Not yet was my Wandering Jew rightly construed +for me. I trust that women may not be allowed a title to all the +curiosity in the world. So when Montopolis's oldest inhabitant +(some ninety score years younger than Michob Ader) dropped in to +acquire promulgation in print, I siphoned his perpetual trickle of +reminiscence in the direction of the uninterpreted maker of shoes. + +Uncle Abner was the Complete History of Montopolis, bound in +butternut. + +"O'Bader," he quavered, "come here in '69. He was the first shoemaker +in the place. Folks generally considers him crazy at times now. But +he don't harm nobody. I s'pose drinkin' upset his mind--yes, drinkin' +very likely done it. It's a powerful bad thing, drinkin'. I'm an old, +old man, sir, and I never see no good in drinkin'." + +I felt disappointment. I was willing to admit drink in the case of my +shoemaker, but I preferred it as a recourse instead of a cause. Why +had he pitched upon his perpetual, strange note of the Wandering +Jew? Why his unutterable grief during his aberration? I could not yet +accept whiskey as an explanation. + +"Did Mike O'Bader ever have a great loss or trouble of any kind?" I +asked. + +"Lemme see! About thirty year ago there was somethin' of the kind, I +recollect. Montopolis, sir, in them days used to be a mighty strict +place. + +"Well, Mike O'Bader had a daughter then--a right pretty girl. She was +too gay a sort for Montopolis, so one day she slips off to another +town and runs away with a circus. It was two years before she comes +back, all fixed up in fine clothes and rings and jewellery, to see +Mike. He wouldn't have nothin' to do with her, so she stays around +town awhile, anyway. I reckon the men folks wouldn't have raised no +objections, but the women egged 'em on to order her to leave town. But +she had plenty of spunk, and told 'em to mind their own business. + +"So one night they decided to run her away. A crowd of men and women +drove her out of her house, and chased her with sticks and stones. She +run to her father's door, callin' for help. Mike opens it, and when he +sees who it is he hits her with his fist and knocks her down and shuts +the door. + +"And then the crowd kept on chunkin' her till she run clear out of +town. And the next day they finds her drowned dead in Hunter's mill +pond. I mind it all now. That was thirty year ago." + +I leaned back in my non-rotary revolving chair and nodded gently, like +a mandarin, at my paste-pot. + +"When old Mike has a spell," went on Uncle Abner, tepidly garrulous, +"he thinks he's the Wanderin' Jew." + +"He is," said I, nodding away. + +And Uncle Abner cackled insinuatingly at the editor's remark, for he +was expecting at least a "stickful" in the "Personal Notes" of the +_Bugle_. + + + + +XIII + +THE DUPLICITY OF HARGRAVES + + +When Major Pendleton Talbot, of Mobile, sir, and his daughter, Miss +Lydia Talbot, came to Washington to reside, they selected for a +boarding place a house that stood fifty yards back from one of the +quietest avenues. It was an old-fashioned brick building, with a +portico upheld by tall white pillars. The yard was shaded by stately +locusts and elms, and a catalpa tree in season rained its pink and +white blossoms upon the grass. Rows of high box bushes lined the fence +and walks. It was the Southern style and aspect of the place that +pleased the eyes of the Talbots. + +In this pleasant, private boarding house they engaged rooms, including +a study for Major Talbot, who was adding the finishing chapters to his +book, "Anecdotes and Reminiscences of the Alabama Army, Bench, and +Bar." + +Major Talbot was of the old, old South. The present day had little +interest or excellence in his eyes. His mind lived in that period +before the Civil War, when the Talbots owned thousands of acres of +fine cotton land and the slaves to till them; when the family mansion +was the scene of princely hospitality, and drew its guests from the +aristocracy of the South. Out of that period he had brought all its +old pride and scruples of honour, an antiquated and punctilious +politeness, and (you would think) its wardrobe. + +Such clothes were surely never made within fifty years. The major was +tall, but whenever he made that wonderful, archaic genuflexion he +called a bow, the corners of his frock coat swept the floor. That +garment was a surprise even to Washington, which has long ago ceased +to shy at the frocks and broadbrimmed hats of Southern congressmen. +One of the boarders christened it a "Father Hubbard," and it certainly +was high in the waist and full in the skirt. + +But the major, with all his queer clothes, his immense area of +plaited, ravelling shirt bosom, and the little black string tie with +the bow always slipping on one side, both was smiled at and liked in +Mrs. Vardeman' s select boarding house. Some of the young department +clerks would often "string him," as they called it, getting him +started upon the subject dearest to him--the traditions and history of +his beloved Southland. During his talks he would quote freely from the +"Anecdotes and Reminiscences." But they were very careful not to let +him see their designs, for in spite of his sixty-eight years, he could +make the boldest of them uncomfortable under the steady regard of his +piercing gray eyes. + +Miss Lydia was a plump, little old maid of thirty-five, with smoothly +drawn, tightly twisted hair that made her look still older. Old +fashioned, too, she was; but ante-bellum glory did not radiate from +her as it did from the major. She possessed a thrifty common sense; +and it was she who handled the finances of the family, and met all +comers when there were bills to pay. The major regarded board bills +and wash bills as contemptible nuisances. They kept coming in so +persistently and so often. Why, the major wanted to know, could they +not be filed and paid in a lump sum at some convenient period--say +when the "Anecdotes and Reminiscences" had been published and paid +for? Miss Lydia would calmly go on with her sewing and say, "We'll pay +as we go as long as the money lasts, and then perhaps they'll have to +lump it." + +Most of Mrs. Vardeman's boarders were away during the day, being +nearly all department clerks and business men; but there was one of +them who was about the house a great deal from morning to night. This +was a young man named Henry Hopkins Hargraves--every one in the house +addressed him by his full name--who was engaged at one of the popular +vaudeville theatres. Vaudeville has risen to such a respectable +plane in the last few years, and Mr. Hargraves was such a modest and +well-mannered person, that Mrs. Vardeman could find no objection to +enrolling him upon her list of boarders. + +At the theatre Hargraves was known as an all-round dialect comedian, +having a large repertoire of German, Irish, Swede, and black-face +specialties. But Mr. Hargraves was ambitious, and often spoke of his +great desire to succeed in legitimate comedy. + +This young man appeared to conceive a strong fancy for Major Talbot. +Whenever that gentleman would begin his Southern reminiscences, or +repeat some of the liveliest of the anecdotes, Hargraves could always +be found, the most attentive among his listeners. + +For a time the major showed an inclination to discourage the advances +of the "play actor," as he privately termed him; but soon the young +man's agreeable manner and indubitable appreciation of the old +gentleman's stories completely won him over. + +It was not long before the two were like old chums. The major set +apart each afternoon to read to him the manuscript of his book. During +the anecdotes Hargraves never failed to laugh at exactly the right +point. The major was moved to declare to Miss Lydia one day that young +Hargraves possessed remarkable perception and a gratifying respect +for the old regime. And when it came to talking of those old days--if +Major Talbot liked to talk, Mr. Hargraves was entranced to listen. + +Like almost all old people who talk of the past, the major loved to +linger over details. In describing the splendid, almost royal, days +of the old planters, he would hesitate until he had recalled the name +of the Negro who held his horse, or the exact date of certain minor +happenings, or the number of bales of cotton raised in such a year; +but Hargraves never grew impatient or lost interest. On the contrary, +he would advance questions on a variety of subjects connected with the +life of that time, and he never failed to extract ready replies. + +The fox hunts, the 'possum suppers, the hoe downs and jubilees in +the Negro quarters, the banquets in the plantation-house hall, when +invitations went for fifty miles around; the occasional feuds with the +neighbouring gentry; the major's duel with Rathbone Culbertson about +Kitty Chalmers, who afterward married a Thwaite of South Carolina; +and private yacht races for fabulous sums on Mobile Bay; the quaint +beliefs, improvident habits, and loyal virtues of the old slaves--all +these were subjects that held both the major and Hargraves absorbed +for hours at a time. + +Sometimes, at night, when the young man would be coming upstairs to +his room after his turn at the theatre was over, the major would +appear at the door of his study and beckon archly to him. Going in, +Hargraves would find a little table set with a decanter, sugar bowl, +fruit, and a big bunch of fresh green mint. + +"It occurred to me," the major would begin--he was always +ceremonious--"that perhaps you might have found your duties at the--at +your place of occupation--sufficiently arduous to enable you, Mr. +Hargraves, to appreciate what the poet might well have had in his mind +when he wrote, 'tired Nature's sweet restorer,'--one of our Southern +juleps." + +It was a fascination to Hargraves to watch him make it. He took rank +among artists when he began, and he never varied the process. With +what delicacy he bruised the mint; with what exquisite nicety he +estimated the ingredients; with what solicitous care he capped the +compound with the scarlet fruit glowing against the dark green fringe! +And then the hospitality and grace with which he offered it, after the +selected oat straws had been plunged into its tinkling depths! + +After about four months in Washington, Miss Lydia discovered one +morning that they were almost without money. The "Anecdotes and +Reminiscences" was completed, but publishers had not jumped at the +collected gems of Alabama sense and wit. The rental of a small house +which they still owned in Mobile was two months in arrears. Their +board money for the month would be due in three days. Miss Lydia +called her father to a consultation. + +"No money?" said he with a surprised look. "It is quite annoying to be +called on so frequently for these petty sums. Really, I--" + +The major searched his pockets. He found only a two-dollar bill, which +he returned to his vest pocket. + +"I must attend to this at once, Lydia," he said. "Kindly get me my +umbrella and I will go down town immediately. The congressman from our +district, General Fulghum, assured me some days ago that he would use +his influence to get my book published at an early date. I will go to +his hotel at once and see what arrangement has been made." + +With a sad little smile Miss Lydia watched him button his "Father +Hubbard" and depart, pausing at the door, as he always did, to bow +profoundly. + +That evening, at dark, he returned. It seemed that Congressman Fulghum +had seen the publisher who had the major's manuscript for reading. +That person had said that if the anecdotes, etc., were carefully +pruned down about one half, in order to eliminate the sectional and +class prejudice with which the book was dyed from end to end, he might +consider its publication. + +The major was in a white heat of anger, but regained his equanimity, +according to his code of manners, as soon as he was in Miss Lydia's +presence. + +"We must have money," said Miss Lydia, with a little wrinkle above her +nose. "Give me the two dollars, and I will telegraph to Uncle Ralph +for some to-night." + +The major drew a small envelope from his upper vest pocket and tossed +it on the table. + +"Perhaps it was injudicious," he said mildly, "but the sum was so +merely nominal that I bought tickets to the theatre to-night. It's a +new war drama, Lydia. I thought you would be pleased to witness its +first production in Washington. I am told that the South has very fair +treatment in the play. I confess I should like to see the performance +myself." + +Miss Lydia threw up her hands in silent despair. + +Still, as the tickets were bought, they might as well be used. So that +evening, as they sat in the theatre listening to the lively overture, +even Miss Lydia was minded to relegate their troubles, for the hour, +to second place. The major, in spotless linen, with his extraordinary +coat showing only where it was closely buttoned, and his white hair +smoothly roached, looked really fine and distinguished. The curtain +went up on the first act of "A Magnolia Flower," revealing a typical +Southern plantation scene. Major Talbot betrayed some interest. + +"Oh, see!" exclaimed Miss Lydia, nudging his arm, and pointing to her +programme. + +The major put on his glasses and read the line in the cast of +characters that her finger indicated. + + + Col. Webster Calhoun . . . . H. Hopkins Hargraves. + + +"It's our Mr. Hargraves," said Miss Lydia. "It must be his first +appearance in what he calls 'the legitimate.' I'm so glad for him." + +Not until the second act did Col. Webster Calhoun appear upon the +stage. When he made his entry Major Talbot gave an audible sniff, +glared at him, and seemed to freeze solid. Miss Lydia uttered a +little, ambiguous squeak and crumpled her programme in her hand. For +Colonel Calhoun was made up as nearly resembling Major Talbot as one +pea does another. The long, thin white hair, curly at the ends, the +aristocratic beak of a nose, the crumpled, wide, ravelling shirt +front, the string tie, with the bow nearly under one ear, were almost +exactly duplicated. And then, to clinch the imitation, he wore the +twin to the major's supposed to be unparalleled coat. High-collared, +baggy, empire-waisted, ample-skirted, hanging a foot lower in front +than behind, the garment could have been designed from no other +pattern. From then on, the major and Miss Lydia sat bewitched, and +saw the counterfeit presentment of a haughty Talbot "dragged," as +the major afterward expressed it, "through the slanderous mire of a +corrupt stage." + +Mr. Hargraves had used his opportunities well. He had caught the +major's little idiosyncrasies of speech, accent, and intonation +and his pompous courtliness to perfection--exaggerating all to the +purposes of the stage. When he performed that marvellous bow that the +major fondly imagined to be the pink of all salutations, the audience +sent forth a sudden round of hearty applause. + +Miss Lydia sat immovable, not daring to glance toward her father. +Sometimes her hand next to him would be laid against her cheek, as if +to conceal the smile which, in spite of her disapproval, she could not +entirely suppress. + +The culmination of Hargraves's audacious imitation took place in the +third act. The scene is where Colonel Calhoun entertains a few of the +neighbouring planters in his "den." + +Standing at a table in the centre of the stage, with his friends +grouped about him, he delivers that inimitable, rambling, character +monologue so famous in "A Magnolia Flower," at the same time that he +deftly makes juleps for the party. + +Major Talbot, sitting quietly, but white with indignation, heard +his best stories retold, his pet theories and hobbies advanced and +expanded, and the dream of the "Anecdotes and Reminiscences" served, +exaggerated and garbled. His favourite narrative--that of his duel +with Rathbone Culbertson--was not omitted, and it was delivered with +more fire, egotism, and gusto than the major himself put into it. + +The monologue concluded with a quaint, delicious, witty little +lecture on the art of concocting a julep, illustrated by the act. +Here Major Talbot's delicate but showy science was reproduced to a +hair's breadth--from his dainty handling of the fragrant weed--"the +one-thousandth part of a grain too much pressure, gentlemen, and you +extract the bitterness, instead of the aroma, of this heaven-bestowed +plant"--to his solicitous selection of the oaten straws. + +At the close of the scene the audience raised a tumultuous roar of +appreciation. The portrayal of the type was so exact, so sure and +thorough, that the leading characters in the play were forgotten. +After repeated calls, Hargraves came before the curtain and bowed, his +rather boyish face bright and flushed with the knowledge of success. + +At last Miss Lydia turned and looked at the major. His thin nostrils +were working like the gills of a fish. He laid both shaking hands upon +the arms of his chair to rise. + +"We will go, Lydia," he said chokingly. "This is an +abominable--desecration." + +Before he could rise, she pulled him back into his seat. "We will +stay it out," she declared. "Do you want to advertise the copy by +exhibiting the original coat?" So they remained to the end. + +Hargraves's success must have kept him up late that night, for neither +at the breakfast nor at the dinner table did he appear. + +About three in the afternoon he tapped at the door of Major Talbot's +study. The major opened it, and Hargraves walked in with his hands +full of the morning papers--too full of his triumph to notice anything +unusual in the major's demeanour. + +"I put it all over 'em last night, major," he began exultantly. "I had +my inning, and, I think, scored. Here's what the _Post_ says: + + + His conception and portrayal of the old-time Southern colonel, + with his absurd grandiloquence, his eccentric garb, his quaint + idioms and phrases, his moth-eaten pride of family, and his + really kind heart, fastidious sense of honour, and lovable + simplicity, is the best delineation of a character role on + the boards to-day. The coat worn by Colonel Calhoun is itself + nothing less than an evolution of genius. Mr. Hargraves has + captured his public. + + +"How does that sound, major, for a first nighter?" + +"I had the honour"--the major's voice sounded ominously frigid--"of +witnessing your very remarkable performance, sir, last night." + +Hargraves looked disconcerted. + +"You were there? I didn't know you ever--I didn't know you cared for +the theatre. Oh, I say, Major Talbot," he exclaimed frankly, "don't +you be offended. I admit I did get a lot of pointers from you that +helped me out wonderfully in the part. But it's a type, you know--not +individual. The way the audience caught on shows that. Half the +patrons of that theatre are Southerners. They recognized it." + +"Mr. Hargraves," said the major, who had remained standing, "you have +put upon me an unpardonable insult. You have burlesqued my person, +grossly betrayed my confidence, and misused my hospitality. If I +thought you possessed the faintest conception of what is the sign +manual of a gentleman, or what is due one, I would call you out, sir, +old as I am. I will ask you to leave the room, sir." + +The actor appeared to be slightly bewildered, and seemed hardly to +take in the full meaning of the old gentleman's words. + +"I am truly sorry you took offence," he said regretfully. "Up here we +don't look at things just as you people do. I know men who would buy +out half the house to have their personality put on the stage so the +public would recognize it." + +"They are not from Alabama, sir," said the major haughtily. + +"Perhaps not. I have a pretty good memory, major; let me quote a +few lines from your book. In response to a toast at a banquet given +in--Milledgeville, I believe--you uttered, and intend to have printed, +these words: + + + The Northern man is utterly without sentiment or warmth except + in so far as the feelings may be turned to his own commercial + profit. He will suffer without resentment any imputation cast + upon the honour of himself or his loved ones that does not bear + with it the consequence of pecuniary loss. In his charity, he + gives with a liberal hand; but it must be heralded with the + trumpet and chronicled in brass. + + +"Do you think that picture is fairer than the one you saw of Colonel +Calhoun last night?" + +"The description," said the major frowning, "is--not without grounds. +Some exag--latitude must be allowed in public speaking." + +"And in public acting," replied Hargraves. + +"That is not the point," persisted the major, unrelenting. "It was a +personal caricature. I positively decline to overlook it, sir." + +"Major Talbot," said Hargraves, with a winning smile, "I wish you +would understand me. I want you to know that I never dreamed of +insulting you. In my profession, all life belongs to me. I take what I +want, and what I can, and return it over the footlights. Now, if you +will, let's let it go at that. I came in to see you about something +else. We've been pretty good friends for some months, and I'm going +to take the risk of offending you again. I know you are hard up for +money--never mind how I found out; a boarding house is no place to +keep such matters secret--and I want you to let me help you out of the +pinch. I've been there often enough myself. I've been getting a fair +salary all the season, and I've saved some money. You're welcome to a +couple hundred--or even more--until you get--" + +"Stop!" commanded the major, with his arm outstretched. "It seems that +my book didn't lie, after all. You think your money salve will heal +all the hurts of honour. Under no circumstances would I accept a loan +from a casual acquaintance; and as to you, sir, I would starve before +I would consider your insulting offer of a financial adjustment of the +circumstances we have discussed. I beg to repeat my request relative +to your quitting the apartment." + +Hargraves took his departure without another word. He also left the +house the same day, moving, as Mrs. Vardeman explained at the supper +table, nearer the vicinity of the down-town theatre, where "A Magnolia +Flower" was booked for a week's run. + +Critical was the situation with Major Talbot and Miss Lydia. There was +no one in Washington to whom the major's scruples allowed him to apply +for a loan. Miss Lydia wrote a letter to Uncle Ralph, but it was +doubtful whether that relative's constricted affairs would permit him +to furnish help. The major was forced to make an apologetic address to +Mrs. Vardeman regarding the delayed payment for board, referring to +"delinquent rentals" and "delayed remittances" in a rather confused +strain. + +Deliverance came from an entirely unexpected source. + +Late one afternoon the door maid came up and announced an old coloured +man who wanted to see Major Talbot. The major asked that he be sent +up to his study. Soon an old darkey appeared in the doorway, with his +hat in hand, bowing, and scraping with one clumsy foot. He was quite +decently dressed in a baggy suit of black. His big, coarse shoes shone +with a metallic lustre suggestive of stove polish. His bushy wool was +gray--almost white. After middle life, it is difficult to estimate the +age of a Negro. This one might have seen as many years as had Major +Talbot. + +"I be bound you don't know me, Mars' Pendleton," were his first words. + +The major rose and came forward at the old, familiar style of address. +It was one of the old plantation darkeys without a doubt; but they had +been widely scattered, and he could not recall the voice or face. + +"I don't believe I do," he said kindly--"unless you will assist my +memory." + +"Don't you 'member Cindy's Mose, Mars' Pendleton, what 'migrated +'mediately after de war?" + +"Wait a moment," said the major, rubbing his forehead with the tips +of his fingers. He loved to recall everything connected with those +beloved days. "Cindy's Mose," he reflected. "You worked among the +horses--breaking the colts. Yes, I remember now. After the surrender, +you took the name of--don't prompt me--Mitchell, and went to the +West--to Nebraska." + +"Yassir, yassir,"--the old man's face stretched with a delighted +grin--"dat's him, dat's it. Newbraska. Dat's me--Mose Mitchell. Old +Uncle Mose Mitchell, dey calls me now. Old mars', your pa, gimme a pah +of dem mule colts when I lef' fur to staht me goin' with. You 'member +dem colts, Mars' Pendleton?" + +"I don't seem to recall the colts," said the major. "You know I was +married the first year of the war and living at the old Follinsbee +place. But sit down, sit down, Uncle Mose. I'm glad to see you. I hope +you have prospered." + +Uncle Mose took a chair and laid his hat carefully on the floor beside +it. + +"Yassir; of late I done mouty famous. When I first got to Newbraska, +dey folks come all roun' me to see dem mule colts. Dey ain't see +no mules like dem in Newbraska. I sold dem mules for three hundred +dollars. Yassir--three hundred. + +"Den I open a blacksmith shop, suh, and made some money and bought +some lan'. Me and my old 'oman done raised up seb'm chillun, and +all doin' well 'cept two of 'em what died. Fo' year ago a railroad +come along and staht a town slam ag'inst my lan', and, suh, Mars' +Pendleton, Uncle Mose am worth leb'm thousand dollars in money, +property, and lan'." + +"I'm glad to hear it," said the major heartily. "Glad to hear it." + +"And dat little baby of yo'n, Mars' Pendleton--one what you name Miss +Lyddy--I be bound dat little tad done growed up tell nobody wouldn't +know her." + +The major stepped to the door and called: "Lydia, dear, will you +come?" + +Miss Lydia, looking quite grown up and a little worried, came in from +her room. + +"Dar, now! What'd I tell you? I knowed dat baby done be plum growed +up. You don't 'member Uncle Mose, child?" + +"This is Aunt Cindy's Mose, Lydia," explained the major. "He left +Sunnymead for the West when you were two years old." + +"Well," said Miss Lydia, "I can hardly be expected to remember you, +Uncle Mose, at that age. And, as you say, I'm 'plum growed up,' and +was a blessed long time ago. But I'm glad to see you, even if I can't +remember you." + +And she was. And so was the major. Something alive and tangible had +come to link them with the happy past. The three sat and talked over +the olden times, the major and Uncle Mose correcting or prompting each +other as they reviewed the plantation scenes and days. + +The major inquired what the old man was doing so far from his home. + +"Uncle Mose am a delicate," he explained, "to de grand Baptis' +convention in dis city. I never preached none, but bein' a residin' +elder in de church, and able fur to pay my own expenses, dey sent me +along." + +"And how did you know we were in Washington?" inquired Miss Lydia. + +"Dey's a cullud man works in de hotel whar I stops, what comes from +Mobile. He told me he seen Mars' Pendleton comin' outen dish here +house one mawnin'. + +"What I come fur," continued Uncle Mose, reaching into his +pocket--"besides de sight of home folks--was to pay Mars' Pendleton +what I owes him." + +"Owe me?" said the major, in surprise. + +"Yassir--three hundred dollars." He handed the major a roll of bills. +"When I lef' old mars' says: 'Take dem mule colts, Mose, and, if it be +so you gits able, pay fur 'em'. Yassir--dem was his words. De war had +done lef' old mars' po' hisself. Old mars' bein' 'long ago dead, de +debt descends to Mars' Pendleton. Three hundred dollars. Uncle Mose is +plenty able to pay now. When dat railroad buy my lan' I laid off to +pay fur dem mules. Count de money, Mars' Pendleton. Dat's what I sold +dem mules fur. Yassir." + +Tears were in Major Talbot's eyes. He took Uncle Mose's hand and laid +his other upon his shoulder. + +"Dear, faithful, old servitor," he said in an unsteady voice, "I don't +mind saying to you that 'Mars' Pendleton' spent his last dollar in the +world a week ago. We will accept this money, Uncle Mose, since, in a +way, it is a sort of payment, as well as a token of the loyalty and +devotion of the old regime. Lydia, my dear, take the money. You are +better fitted than I to manage its expenditure." + +"Take it, honey," said Uncle Mose. "Hit belongs to you. Hit's Talbot +money." + +After Uncle Mose had gone, Miss Lydia had a good cry--for joy; and the +major turned his face to a corner, and smoked his clay pipe +volcanically. + +The succeeding days saw the Talbots restored to peace and ease. Miss +Lydia's face lost its worried look. The major appeared in a new frock +coat, in which he looked like a wax figure personifying the memory +of his golden age. Another publisher who read the manuscript of the +"Anecdotes and Reminiscences" thought that, with a little retouching +and toning down of the high lights, he could make a really bright +and salable volume of it. Altogether, the situation was comfortable, +and not without the touch of hope that is often sweeter than arrived +blessings. + +One day, about a week after their piece of good luck, a maid brought +a letter for Miss Lydia to her room. The postmark showed that it +was from New York. Not knowing any one there, Miss Lydia, in a mild +flutter of wonder, sat down by her table and opened the letter with +her scissors. This was what she read: + + + DEAR MISS TALBOT: + + I thought you might be glad to learn of my good fortune. I + have received and accepted an offer of two hundred dollars + per week by a New York stock company to play Colonel Calhoun + in "A Magnolia Flower." + + There is something else I wanted you to know. I guess you'd + better not tell Major Talbot. I was anxious to make him some + amends for the great help he was to me in studying the part, + and for the bad humour he was in about it. He refused to let + me, so I did it anyhow. I could easily spare the three + hundred. + + Sincerely yours, + + H. HOPKINS HARGRAVES, + + P.S. How did I play Uncle Mose? + + +Major Talbot, passing through the hall, saw Miss Lydia's door open +and stopped. + +"Any mail for us this morning, Lydia, dear?" he asked. + +Miss Lydia slid the letter beneath a fold of her dress. + +"The _Mobile Chronicle_ came," she said promptly. "It's on the table +in your study." + + + + +XIV + +LET ME FEEL YOUR PULSE + + +So I went to a doctor. + +"How long has it been since you took any alcohol into your system?" he +asked. + +Turning my head sidewise, I answered, "Oh, quite awhile." + +He was a young doctor, somewhere between twenty and forty. He wore +heliotrope socks, but he looked like Napoleon. I liked him immensely. + +"Now," said he, "I am going to show you the effect of alcohol upon +your circulation." I think it was "circulation" he said; though it may +have been "advertising." + +He bared my left arm to the elbow, brought out a bottle of whiskey, +and gave me a drink. He began to look more like Napoleon. I began to +like him better. + +Then he put a tight compress on my upper arm, stopped my pulse with +his fingers, and squeezed a rubber bulb connected with an apparatus on +a stand that looked like a thermometer. The mercury jumped up and down +without seeming to stop anywhere; but the doctor said it registered +two hundred and thirty-seven or one hundred and sixty-five or some +such number. + +"Now," said he, "you see what alcohol does to the blood-pressure." + +"It's marvellous," said I, "but do you think it a sufficient test? +Have one on me, and let's try the other arm." But, no! + +Then he grasped my hand. I thought I was doomed and he was saying +good-bye. But all he wanted to do was to jab a needle into the end of +a finger and compare the red drop with a lot of fifty-cent poker chips +that he had fastened to a card. + +"It's the haemoglobin test," he explained. "The colour of your blood +is wrong." + +"Well," said I, "I know it should be blue; but this is a country of +mix-ups. Some of my ancestors were cavaliers; but they got thick with +some people on Nantucket Island, so--" + +"I mean," said the doctor, "that the shade of red is too light." + +"Oh," said I, "it's a case of matching instead of matches." + +The doctor then pounded me severely in the region of the chest. When +he did that I don't know whether he reminded me most of Napoleon or +Battling or Lord Nelson. Then he looked grave and mentioned a string +of grievances that the flesh is heir to--mostly ending in "itis." I +immediately paid him fifteen dollars on account. + +"Is or are it or some or any of them necessarily fatal?" I asked. +I thought my connection with the matter justified my manifesting a +certain amount of interest. + +"All of them," he answered cheerfully. "But their progress may be +arrested. With care and proper continuous treatment you may live to be +eighty-five or ninety." + +I began to think of the doctor's bill. "Eighty-five would be +sufficient, I am sure," was my comment. I paid him ten dollars more on +account. + +"The first thing to do," he said, with renewed animation, "is to find +a sanitarium where you will get a complete rest for a while, and allow +your nerves to get into a better condition. I myself will go with you +and select a suitable one." + +So he took me to a mad-house in the Catskills. It was on a bare +mountain frequented only by infrequent frequenters. You could see +nothing but stones and boulders, some patches of snow, and scattered +pine trees. The young physician in charge was most agreeable. He gave +me a stimulant without applying a compress to the arm. It was luncheon +time, and we were invited to partake. There were about twenty inmates +at little tables in the dining room. The young physician in charge +came to our table and said: "It is a custom with our guests not +to regard themselves as patients, but merely as tired ladies and +gentlemen taking a rest. Whatever slight maladies they may have are +never alluded to in conversation." + +My doctor called loudly to a waitress to bring some phosphoglycerate +of lime hash, dog-bread, bromo-seltzer pancakes, and nux vomica tea +for my repast. Then a sound arose like a sudden wind storm among pine +trees. It was produced by every guest in the room whispering loudly, +"Neurasthenia!"--except one man with a nose, whom I distinctly heard +say, "Chronic alcoholism." I hope to meet him again. The physician in +charge turned and walked away. + +An hour or so after luncheon he conducted us to the workshop--say +fifty yards from the house. Thither the guests had been conducted by +the physician in charge's understudy and sponge-holder--a man with +feet and a blue sweater. He was so tall that I was not sure he had a +face; but the Armour Packing Company would have been delighted with +his hands. + +"Here," said the physician in charge, "our guests find relaxation +from past mental worries by devoting themselves to physical +labour--recreation, in reality." + +There were turning-lathes, carpenters' outfits, clay-modelling +tools, spinning-wheels, weaving-frames, treadmills, bass drums, +enlarged-crayon-portrait apparatuses, blacksmith forges, and +everything, seemingly, that could interest the paying lunatic guests +of a first-rate sanitarium. + +"The lady making mud pies in the corner," whispered the physician in +charge, "is no other than--Lula Lulington, the authoress of the novel +entitled 'Why Love Loves.' What she is doing now is simply to rest her +mind after performing that piece of work." + +I had seen the book. "Why doesn't she do it by writing another one +instead?" I asked. + +As you see, I wasn't as far gone as they thought I was. + +"The gentleman pouring water through the funnel," continued the +physician in charge, "is a Wall Street broker broken down from +overwork." + +I buttoned my coat. + +Others he pointed out were architects playing with Noah's arks, +ministers reading Darwin's "Theory of Evolution," lawyers sawing +wood, tired-out society ladies talking Ibsen to the blue-sweatered +sponge-holder, a neurotic millionaire lying asleep on the floor, and +a prominent artist drawing a little red wagon around the room. + +"You look pretty strong," said the physician in charge to me. "I think +the best mental relaxation for you would be throwing small boulders +over the mountainside and then bringing them up again." + +I was a hundred yards away before my doctor overtook me. + +"What's the matter?" he asked. + +"The matter is," said I, "that there are no aeroplanes handy. So I am +going to merrily and hastily jog the foot-pathway to yon station and +catch the first unlimited-soft-coal express back to town." + +"Well," said the doctor, "perhaps you are right. This seems hardly the +suitable place for you. But what you need is rest--absolute rest and +exercise." + +That night I went to a hotel in the city, and said to the clerk: "What +I need is absolute rest and exercise. Can you give me a room with one +of those tall folding beds in it, and a relay of bellboys to work it +up and down while I rest?" + +The clerk rubbed a speck off one of his finger nails and glanced +sidewise at a tall man in a white hat sitting in the lobby. That man +came over and asked me politely if I had seen the shrubbery at the +west entrance. I had not, so he showed it to me and then looked me +over. + +"I thought you had 'em," he said, not unkindly, "but I guess you're +all right. You'd better go see a doctor, old man." + +A week afterward my doctor tested my blood pressure again without the +preliminary stimulant. He looked to me a little less like Napoleon. +And his socks were of a shade of tan that did not appeal to me. + +"What you need," he decided, "is sea air and companionship." + +"Would a mermaid--" I began; but he slipped on his professional +manner. + +"I myself," he said, "will take you to the Hotel Bonair off the coast +of Long Island and see that you get in good shape. It is a quiet, +comfortable resort where you will soon recuperate." + +The Hotel Bonair proved to be a nine-hundred-room fashionable hostelry +on an island off the main shore. Everybody who did not dress for +dinner was shoved into a side dining-room and given only a terrapin +and champagne table d'hote. The bay was a great stamping ground for +wealthy yachtsmen. The _Corsair_ anchored there the day we arrived. +I saw Mr. Morgan standing on deck eating a cheese sandwich and gazing +longingly at the hotel. Still, it was a very inexpensive place. Nobody +could afford to pay their prices. When you went away you simply left +your baggage, stole a skiff, and beat it for the mainland in the +night. + +When I had been there one day I got a pad of monogrammed telegraph +blanks at the clerk's desk and began to wire to all my friends for +get-away money. My doctor and I played one game of croquet on the golf +links and went to sleep on the lawn. + +When we got back to town a thought seemed to occur to him suddenly. +"By the way," he asked, "how do you feel?" + +"Relieved of very much," I replied. + +Now a consulting physician is different. He isn't exactly sure whether +he is to be paid or not, and this uncertainty insures you either the +most careful or the most careless attention. My doctor took me to +see a consulting physician. He made a poor guess and gave me careful +attention. I liked him immensely. He put me through some coordination +exercises. + +"Have you a pain in the back of your head?" he asked. I told him I had +not. + +"Shut your eyes," he ordered, "put your feet close together, and jump +backward as far as you can." + +I always was a good backward jumper with my eyes shut, so I obeyed. +My head struck the edge of the bathroom door, which had been left +open and was only three feet away. The doctor was very sorry. He had +overlooked the fact that the door was open. He closed it. + +"Now touch your nose with your right forefinger," he said. + +"Where is it?" I asked. + +"On your face," said he. + +"I mean my right forefinger," I explained. + +"Oh, excuse me," said he. He reopened the bathroom door, and I took my +finger out of the crack of it. After I had performed the marvellous +digito-nasal feat I said: + +"I do not wish to deceive you as to symptoms, Doctor; I +really have something like a pain in the back of my head." He +ignored the symptom and examined my heart carefully with a +latest-popular-air-penny-in-the-slot ear-trumpet. I felt like a +ballad. + +"Now," he said, "gallop like a horse for about five minutes around the +room." + +I gave the best imitation I could of a disqualified Percheron being +led out of Madison Square Garden. Then, without dropping in a penny, +he listened to my chest again. + +"No glanders in our family, Doc," I said. + +The consulting physician held up his forefinger within three inches of +my nose. "Look at my finger," he commanded. + +"Did you ever try Pears'--" I began; but he went on with his test +rapidly. + +"Now look across the bay. At my finger. Across the bay. At my finger. +At my finger. Across the bay. Across the bay. At my finger. Across the +bay." This for about three minutes. + +He explained that this was a test of the action of the brain. It +seemed easy to me. I never once mistook his finger for the bay. I'll +bet that if he had used the phrases: "Gaze, as it were, unpreoccupied, +outward--or rather laterally--in the direction of the horizon, +underlaid, so to speak, with the adjacent fluid inlet," and "Now, +returning--or rather, in a manner, withdrawing your attention, bestow +it upon my upraised digit"--I'll bet, I say, that Henry James himself +could have passed the examination. + +After asking me if I had ever had a grand uncle with curvature of the +spine or a cousin with swelled ankles, the two doctors retired to the +bathroom and sat on the edge of the bath tub for their consultation. I +ate an apple, and gazed first at my finger and then across the bay. + +The doctors came out looking grave. More: they looked tombstones and +Tennessee-papers-please-copy. They wrote out a diet list to which I +was to be restricted. It had everything that I had ever heard of to +eat on it, except snails. And I never eat a snail unless it overtakes +me and bites me first. + +"You must follow this diet strictly," said the doctors. + +"I'd follow it a mile if I could get one-tenth of what's on it," I +answered. + +"Of next importance," they went on, "is outdoor air and exercise. And +here is a prescription that will be of great benefit to you." + +Then all of us took something. They took their hats, and I took my +departure. + +I went to a druggist and showed him the prescription. + +"It will be $2.87 for an ounce bottle," he said. + +"Will you give me a piece of your wrapping cord?" said I. + +I made a hole in the prescription, ran the cord through it, tied it +around my neck, and tucked it inside. All of us have a little +superstition, and mine runs to a confidence in amulets. + +Of course there was nothing the matter with me, but I was very ill. +I couldn't work, sleep, eat, or bowl. The only way I could get any +sympathy was to go without shaving for four days. Even then somebody +would say: "Old man, you look as hardy as a pine knot. Been up for a +jaunt in the Maine woods, eh?" + +Then, suddenly, I remembered that I must have outdoor air and +exercise. So I went down South to John's. John is an approximate +relative by verdict of a preacher standing with a little book in his +hands in a bower of chrysanthemums while a hundred thousand people +looked on. John has a country house seven miles from Pineville. It +is at an altitude and on the Blue Ridge Mountains in a state too +dignified to be dragged into this controversy. John is mica, which is +more valuable and clearer than gold. + +He met me at Pineville, and we took the trolley car to his home. It +is a big, neighbourless cottage on a hill surrounded by a hundred +mountains. We got off at his little private station, where John's +family and Amaryllis met and greeted us. Amaryllis looked at me a +trifle anxiously. + +A rabbit came bounding across the hill between us and the house. +I threw down my suit-case and pursued it hotfoot. After I had run +twenty yards and seen it disappear, I sat down on the grass and wept +disconsolately. + +"I can't catch a rabbit any more," I sobbed. "I'm of no further use in +the world. I may as well be dead." + +"Oh, what is it--what is it, Brother John?" I heard Amaryllis say. + +"Nerves a little unstrung," said John, in his calm way. "Don't worry. +Get up, you rabbit-chaser, and come on to the house before the +biscuits get cold." It was about twilight, and the mountains came up +nobly to Miss Murfree's descriptions of them. + +Soon after dinner I announced that I believed I could sleep for a year +or two, including legal holidays. So I was shown to a room as big and +cool as a flower garden, where there was a bed as broad as a lawn. +Soon afterward the remainder of the household retired, and then there +fell upon the land a silence. + +I had not heard a silence before in years. It was absolute. I raised +myself on my elbow and listened to it. Sleep! I thought that if I only +could hear a star twinkle or a blade of grass sharpen itself I could +compose myself to rest. I thought once that I heard a sound like +the sail of a catboat flapping as it veered about in a breeze, but +I decided that it was probably only a tack in the carpet. Still I +listened. + +Suddenly some belated little bird alighted upon the window-sill, and, +in what he no doubt considered sleepy tones, enunciated the noise +generally translated as "cheep!" + +I leaped into the air. + +"Hey! what's the matter down there?" called John from his room above +mine. + +"Oh, nothing," I answered, "except that I accidentally bumped my head +against the ceiling." + +The next morning I went out on the porch and looked at the mountains. +There were forty-seven of them in sight. I shuddered, went into the +big hall sitting room of the house, selected "Pancoast's Family +Practice of Medicine" from a bookcase, and began to read. John came +in, took the book away from me, and led me outside. He has a farm of +three hundred acres furnished with the usual complement of barns, +mules, peasantry, and harrows with three front teeth broken off. I had +seen such things in my childhood, and my heart began to sink. + +Then John spoke of alfalfa, and I brightened at once. "Oh, yes," said +I, "wasn't she in the chorus of--let's see--" + +"Green, you know," said John, "and tender, and you plow it under after +the first season." + +"I know," said I, "and the grass grows over her." + +"Right," said John. "You know something about farming, after all." + +"I know something of some farmers," said I, "and a sure scythe will +mow them down some day." + +On the way back to the house a beautiful and inexplicable creature +walked across our path. I stopped irresistibly fascinated, gazing +at it. John waited patiently, smoking his cigarette. He is a modern +farmer. After ten minutes he said: "Are you going to stand there +looking at that chicken all day? Breakfast is nearly ready." + +"A chicken?" said I. + +"A White Orpington hen, if you want to particularize." + +"A White Orpington hen?" I repeated, with intense interest. The fowl +walked slowly away with graceful dignity, and I followed like a child +after the Pied Piper. Five minutes more were allowed me by John, and +then he took me by the sleeve and conducted me to breakfast. + +After I had been there a week I began to grow alarmed. I was sleeping +and eating well and actually beginning to enjoy life. For a man in +my desperate condition that would never do. So I sneaked down to the +trolley-car station, took the car for Pineville, and went to see one +of the best physicians in town. By this time I knew exactly what to do +when I needed medical treatment. I hung my hat on the back of a chair, +and said rapidly: + +"Doctor, I have cirrhosis of the heart, indurated arteries, +neurasthenia, neuritis, acute indigestion, and convalescence. I am +going to live on a strict diet. I shall also take a tepid bath at +night and a cold one in the morning. I shall endeavour to be cheerful, +and fix my mind on pleasant subjects. In the way of drugs I intend to +take a phosphorous pill three times a day, preferably after meals, and +a tonic composed of the tinctures of gentian, cinchona, calisaya, and +cardamon compound. Into each teaspoonful of this I shall mix tincture +of nux vomica, beginning with one drop and increasing it a drop each +day until the maximum dose is reached. I shall drop this with a +medicine-dropper, which can be procured at a trifling cost at any +pharmacy. Good morning." + +I took my hat and walked out. After I had closed the door I remembered +something that I had forgotten to say. I opened it again. The doctor +had not moved from where he had been sitting, but he gave a slightly +nervous start when he saw me again. + +"I forgot to mention," said I, "that I shall also take absolute rest +and exercise." + +After this consultation I felt much better. The reestablishing +in my mind of the fact that I was hopelessly ill gave me so much +satisfaction that I almost became gloomy again. There is nothing more +alarming to a neurasthenic than to feel himself growing well and +cheerful. + +John looked after me carefully. After I had evinced so much interest +in his White Orpington chicken he tried his best to divert my mind, +and was particular to lock his hen house of nights. Gradually the +tonic mountain air, the wholesome food, and the daily walks among +the hills so alleviated my malady that I became utterly wretched and +despondent. I heard of a country doctor who lived in the mountains +nearby. I went to see him and told him the whole story. He was a +gray-bearded man with clear, blue, wrinkled eyes, in a home-made suit +of gray jeans. + +In order to save time I diagnosed my case, touched my nose with my +right forefinger, struck myself below the knee to make my foot kick, +sounded my chest, stuck out my tongue, and asked him the price of +cemetery lots in Pineville. + +He lit his pipe and looked at me for about three minutes. "Brother," +he said, after a while, "you are in a mighty bad way. There's a chance +for you to pull through, but it's a mighty slim one." + +"What can it be?" I asked eagerly. "I have taken arsenic and gold, +phosphorus, exercise, nux vomica, hydrotherapeutic baths, rest, +excitement, codein, and aromatic spirits of ammonia. Is there anything +left in the pharmacopoeia?" + +"Somewhere in these mountains," said the doctor, "there's a plant +growing--a flowering plant that'll cure you, and it's about the only +thing that will. It's of a kind that's as old as the world; but of +late it's powerful scarce and hard to find. You and I will have to +hunt it up. I'm not engaged in active practice now: I'm getting along +in years; but I'll take your case. You'll have to come every day in +the afternoon and help me hunt for this plant till we find it. The +city doctors may know a lot about new scientific things, but they +don't know much about the cures that nature carries around in her +saddlebags." + +So every day the old doctor and I hunted the cure-all plant among the +mountains and valleys of the Blue Ridge. Together we toiled up steep +heights so slippery with fallen autumn leaves that we had to catch +every sapling and branch within our reach to save us from falling. We +waded through gorges and chasms, breast-deep with laurel and ferns; +we followed the banks of mountain streams for miles; we wound our way +like Indians through brakes of pine--road side, hill side, river side, +mountain side we explored in our search for the miraculous plant. + +As the old doctor said, it must have grown scarce and hard to find. +But we followed our quest. Day by day we plumbed the valleys, scaled +the heights, and tramped the plateaus in search of the miraculous +plant. Mountain-bred, he never seemed to tire. I often reached home +too fatigued to do anything except fall into bed and sleep until +morning. This we kept up for a month. + +One evening after I had returned from a six-mile tramp with the old +doctor, Amaryllis and I took a little walk under the trees near the +road. We looked at the mountains drawing their royal-purple robes +around them for their night's repose. + +"I'm glad you're well again," she said. "When you first came you +frightened me. I thought you were really ill." + +"Well again!" I almost shrieked. "Do you know that I have only one +chance in a thousand to live?" + +Amaryllis looked at me in surprise. "Why," said she, "you are as +strong as one of the plough-mules, you sleep ten or twelve hours every +night, and you are eating us out of house and home. What more do you +want?" + +"I tell you," said I, "that unless we find the magic--that is, the +plant we are looking for--in time, nothing can save me. The doctor +tells me so." + +"What doctor?" + +"Doctor Tatum--the old doctor who lives halfway up Black Oak Mountain. +Do you know him?" + +"I have known him since I was able to talk. And is that where you go +every day--is it he who takes you on these long walks and climbs that +have brought back your health and strength? God bless the old doctor." + +Just then the old doctor himself drove slowly down the road in his +rickety old buggy. I waved my hand at him and shouted that I would +be on hand the next day at the usual time. He stopped his horse and +called to Amaryllis to come out to him. They talked for five minutes +while I waited. Then the old doctor drove on. + +When we got to the house Amaryllis lugged out an encyclopaedia and +sought a word in it. "The doctor said," she told me, "that you needn't +call any more as a patient, but he'd be glad to see you any time as +a friend. And then he told me to look up my name in the encyclopaedia +and tell you what it means. It seems to be the name of a genus of +flowering plants, and also the name of a country girl in Theocritus +and Virgil. What do you suppose the doctor meant by that?" + +"I know what he meant," said I. "I know now." + +A word to a brother who may have come under the spell of the unquiet +Lady Neurasthenia. + +The formula was true. Even though gropingly at times, the physicians +of the walled cities had put their fingers upon the specific +medicament. + +And so for the exercise one is referred to good Doctor Tatum on Black +Oak Mountain--take the road to your right at the Methodist meeting +house in the pine-grove. + +Absolute rest and exercise! + +What rest more remedial than to sit with Amaryllis in the shade, +and, with a sixth sense, read the wordless Theocritan idyl of the +gold-bannered blue mountains marching orderly into the dormitories of +the night? + + + + +XV + +OCTOBER AND JUNE + + +The Captain gazed gloomily at his sword that hung upon the wall. In +the closet near by was stored his faded uniform, stained and worn by +weather and service. What a long, long time it seemed since those old +days of war's alarms! + +And now, veteran that he was of his country's strenuous times, he had +been reduced to abject surrender by a woman's soft eyes and smiling +lips. As he sat in his quiet room he held in his hand the letter he +had just received from her--the letter that had caused him to wear +that look of gloom. He re-read the fatal paragraph that had destroyed +his hope. + + + In declining the honour you have done me in asking me to be + your wife, I feel that I ought to speak frankly. The reason + I have for so doing is the great difference between our ages. + I like you very, very much, but I am sure that our marriage + would not be a happy one. I am sorry to have to refer to this, + but I believe that you will appreciate my honesty in giving + you the true reason. + + +The Captain sighed, and leaned his head upon his hand. Yes, there were +many years between their ages. But he was strong and rugged, he had +position and wealth. Would not his love, his tender care, and the +advantages he could bestow upon her make her forget the question of +age? Besides, he was almost sure that she cared for him. + +The Captain was a man of prompt action. In the field he had been +distinguished for his decisiveness and energy. He would see her and +plead his cause again in person. Age!--what was it to come between him +and the one he loved? + +In two hours he stood ready, in light marching order, for his greatest +battle. He took the train for the old Southern town in Tennessee where +she lived. + +Theodora Deming was on the steps of the handsome, porticoed old +mansion, enjoying the summer twilight, when the Captain entered the +gate and came up the gravelled walk. She met him with a smile that was +free from embarrassment. As the Captain stood on the step below her, +the difference in their ages did not appear so great. He was tall and +straight and clear-eyed and browned. She was in the bloom of lovely +womanhood. + +"I wasn't expecting you," said Theodora; "but now that you've come you +may sit on the step. Didn't you get my letter?" + +"I did," said the Captain; "and that's why I came. I say, now, Theo, +reconsider your answer, won't you?" + +Theodora smiled softly upon him. He carried his years well. +She was really fond of his strength, his wholesome looks, his +manliness--perhaps, if-- + +"No, no," she said, shaking her head, positively; "it's out of the +question. I like you a whole lot, but marrying won't do. My age and +yours are--but don't make me say it again--I told you in my letter." + +The Captain flushed a little through the bronze on his face. He was +silent for a while, gazing sadly into the twilight. Beyond a line of +woods that he could see was a field where the boys in blue had once +bivouacked on their march toward the sea. How long ago it seemed now! +Truly, Fate and Father Time had tricked him sorely. Just a few years +interposed between himself and happiness! + +Theodora's hand crept down and rested in the clasp of his firm, brown +one. She felt, at least, that sentiment that is akin to love. + +"Don't take it so hard, please," she said, gently. "It's all for the +best. I've reasoned it out very wisely all by myself. Some day you'll +be glad I didn't marry you. It would be very nice and lovely for a +while--but, just think! In only a few short years what different +tastes we would have! One of us would want to sit by the fireside and +read, and maybe nurse neuralgia or rheumatism of evenings, while the +other would be crazy for balls and theatres and late suppers. No, my +dear friend. While it isn't exactly January and May, it's a clear case +of October and pretty early in June." + +"I'd always do what you wanted me to do, Theo. If you wanted to--" + +"No, you wouldn't. You think now that you would, but you wouldn't. +Please don't ask me any more." + +The Captain had lost his battle. But he was a gallant warrior, and +when he rose to make his final adieu his mouth was grimly set and his +shoulders were squared. + +He took the train for the North that night. On the next evening he was +back in his room, where his sword was hanging against the wall. He was +dressing for dinner, tying his white tie into a very careful bow. And +at the same time he was indulging in a pensive soliloquy. + +"'Pon my honour, I believe Theo was right, after all. Nobody can deny +that she's a peach, but she must be twenty-eight, at the very kindest +calculation." + +For you see, the Captain was only nineteen, and his sword had never +been drawn except on the parade ground at Chattanooga, which was as +near as he ever got to the Spanish-American War. + + + + +XVI + +THE CHURCH WITH AN OVERSHOT-WHEEL + + +Lakelands is not to be found in the catalogues of fashionable summer +resorts. It lies on a low spur of the Cumberland range of mountains +on a little tributary of the Clinch River. Lakelands proper is +a contented village of two dozen houses situated on a forlorn, +narrow-gauge railroad line. You wonder whether the railroad lost +itself in the pine woods and ran into Lakelands from fright and +loneliness, or whether Lakelands got lost and huddled itself along +the railroad to wait for the cars to carry it home. + +You wonder again why it was named Lakelands. There are no lakes, and +the lands about are too poor to be worth mentioning. + +Half a mile from the village stands the Eagle House, a big, roomy +old mansion run by Josiah Rankin for the accommodation of visitors +who desire the mountain air at inexpensive rates. The Eagle House +is delightfully mismanaged. It is full of ancient instead of modern +improvements, and it is altogether as comfortably neglected and +pleasingly disarranged as your own home. But you are furnished with +clean rooms and good and abundant fare: yourself and the piny woods +must do the rest. Nature has provided a mineral spring, grape-vine +swings, and croquet--even the wickets are wooden. You have Art to +thank only for the fiddle-and-guitar music twice a week at the hop in +the rustic pavilion. + +The patrons of the Eagle House are those who seek recreation as a +necessity, as well as a pleasure. They are busy people, who may be +likened to clocks that need a fortnight's winding to insure a year's +running of their wheels. You will find students there from the lower +towns, now and then an artist, or a geologist absorbed in construing +the ancient strata of the hills. A few quiet families spend the +summers there; and often one or two tired members of that patient +sisterhood known to Lakelands as "schoolmarms." + +A quarter of a mile from the Eagle House was what would have been +described to its guests as "an object of interest" in the catalogue, +had the Eagle House issued a catalogue. This was an old, old mill that +was no longer a mill. In the words of Josiah Rankin, it was "the only +church in the United States, sah, with an overshot-wheel; and the only +mill in the world, sah, with pews and a pipe organ." The guests of +the Eagle House attended the old mill church each Sabbath, and heard +the preacher liken the purified Christian to bolted flour ground to +usefulness between the millstones of experience and suffering. + +Every year about the beginning of autumn there came to the Eagle House +one Abram Strong, who remained for a time an honoured and beloved +guest. In Lakelands he was called "Father Abram," because his hair was +so white, his face so strong and kind and florid, his laugh so merry, +and his black clothes and broad hat so priestly in appearance. Even +new guests after three or four days' acquaintance gave him this +familiar title. + +Father Abram came a long way to Lakelands. He lived in a big, roaring +town in the Northwest where he owned mills, not little mills with pews +and an organ in them, but great, ugly, mountain-like mills that the +freight trains crawled around all day like ants around an ant-heap. +And now you must be told about Father Abram and the mill that was a +church, for their stories run together. + +In the days when the church was a mill, Mr. Strong was the miller. +There was no jollier, dustier, busier, happier miller in all the land +than he. He lived in a little cottage across the road from the mill. +His hand was heavy, but his toll was light, and the mountaineers +brought their grain to him across many weary miles of rocky roads. + +The delight of the miller's life was his little daughter, Aglaia. +That was a brave name, truly, for a flaxen-haired toddler; but +the mountaineers love sonorous and stately names. The mother had +encountered it somewhere in a book, and the deed was done. In her +babyhood Aglaia herself repudiated the name, as far as common use +went, and persisted in calling herself "Dums." The miller and his wife +often tried to coax from Aglaia the source of this mysterious name, +but without results. At last they arrived at a theory. In the little +garden behind the cottage was a bed of rhododendrons in which the +child took a peculiar delight and interest. It may have been that she +perceived in "Dums" a kinship to the formidable name of her favourite +flowers. + +When Aglaia was four years old she and her father used to go through +a little performance in the mill every afternoon, that never failed +to come off, the weather permitting. When supper was ready her mother +would brush her hair and put on a clean apron and send her across to +the mill to bring her father home. When the miller saw her coming in +the mill door he would come forward, all white with the flour dust, +and wave his hand and sing an old miller's song that was familiar in +those parts and ran something like this: + + + "The wheel goes round, + The grist is ground, + The dusty miller's merry. + He sings all day, + His work is play, + While thinking of his dearie." + + +Then Aglaia would run to him laughing, and call: + +"Da-da, come take Dums home;" and the miller would swing her to his +shoulder and march over to supper, singing the miller's song. Every +evening this would take place. + +One day, only a week after her fourth birthday, Aglaia disappeared. +When last seen she was plucking wild flowers by the side of the road +in front of the cottage. A little while later her mother went out to +see that she did not stray too far away, and she was already gone. + +Of course every effort was made to find her. The neighbours gathered +and searched the woods and the mountains for miles around. They +dragged every foot of the mill race and the creek for a long distance +below the dam. Never a trace of her did they find. A night or two +before there had been a family of wanderers camped in a grove near by. +It was conjectured that they might have stolen the child; but when +their wagon was overtaken and searched she could not be found. + +The miller remained at the mill for nearly two years; and then his +hope of finding her died out. He and his wife moved to the Northwest. +In a few years he was the owner of a modern mill in one of the +important milling cities in that region. Mrs. Strong never recovered +from the shock caused by the loss of Aglaia, and two years after they +moved away the miller was left to bear his sorrow alone. + +When Abram Strong became prosperous he paid a visit to Lakelands and +the old mill. The scene was a sad one for him, but he was a strong +man, and always appeared cheery and kindly. It was then that he was +inspired to convert the old mill into a church. Lakelands was too +poor to build one; and the still poorer mountaineers could not assist. +There was no place of worship nearer than twenty miles. + +The miller altered the appearance of the mill as little as possible. +The big overshot-wheel was left in its place. The young people who +came to the church used to cut their initials in its soft and slowly +decaying wood. The dam was partly destroyed, and the clear mountain +stream rippled unchecked down its rocky bed. Inside the mill the +changes were greater. The shafts and millstones and belts and pulleys +were, of course, all removed. There were two rows of benches with +aisles between, and a little raised platform and pulpit at one end. +On three sides overhead was a gallery containing seats, and reached +by a stairway inside. There was also an organ--a real pipe organ--in +the gallery, that was the pride of the congregation of the Old Mill +Church. Miss Phoebe Summers was the organist. The Lakelands boys +proudly took turns at pumping it for her at each Sunday's service. +The Rev. Mr. Banbridge was the preacher, and rode down from Squirrel +Gap on his old white horse without ever missing a service. And Abram +Strong paid for everything. He paid the preacher five hundred dollars +a year; and Miss Phoebe two hundred dollars. + +Thus, in memory of Aglaia, the old mill was converted into a blessing +for the community in which she had once lived. It seemed that the +brief life of the child had brought about more good than the three +score years and ten of many. But Abram Strong set up yet another +monument to her memory. + +Out from his mills in the Northwest came the "Aglaia" flour, made from +the hardest and finest wheat that could be raised. The country soon +found out that the "Aglaia" flour had two prices. One was the highest +market price, and the other was--nothing. + +Wherever there happened a calamity that left people destitute--a fire, +a flood, a tornado, a strike, or a famine, there would go hurrying a +generous consignment of the "Aglaia" at its "nothing" price. It was +given away cautiously and judiciously, but it was freely given, and +not a penny could the hungry ones pay for it. There got to be a saying +that whenever there was a disastrous fire in the poor districts of a +city the fire chief's buggy reached the scene first, next the "Aglaia" +flour wagon, and then the fire engines. + +So this was Abram Strong's other monument to Aglaia. Perhaps to a poet +the theme may seem too utilitarian for beauty; but to some the fancy +will seem sweet and fine that the pure, white, virgin flour, flying on +its mission of love and charity, might be likened to the spirit of the +lost child whose memory it signalized. + +There came a year that brought hard times to the Cumberlands. Grain +crops everywhere were light, and there were no local crops at all. +Mountain floods had done much damage to property. Even game in the +woods was so scarce that the hunters brought hardly enough home to +keep their folk alive. Especially about Lakelands was the rigour felt. + +As soon as Abram Strong heard of this his messages flew; and the +little narrow-gauge cars began to unload "Aglaia" flour there. The +miller's orders were to store the flour in the gallery of the Old Mill +Church; and that every one who attended the church was to carry home a +sack of it. + +Two weeks after that Abram Strong came for his yearly visit to the +Eagle House, and became "Father Abram" again. + +That season the Eagle House had fewer guests than usual. Among them +was Rose Chester. Miss Chester came to Lakelands from Atlanta, where +she worked in a department store. This was the first vacation outing +of her life. The wife of the store manager had once spent a summer at +the Eagle House. She had taken a fancy to Rose, and had persuaded her +to go there for her three weeks' holiday. The manager's wife gave her +a letter to Mrs. Rankin, who gladly received her in her own charge and +care. + +Miss Chester was not very strong. She was about twenty, and pale and +delicate from an indoor life. But one week of Lakelands gave her a +brightness and spirit that changed her wonderfully. The time was early +September when the Cumberlands are at their greatest beauty. The +mountain foliage was growing brilliant with autumnal colours; one +breathed aerial champagne, the nights were deliciously cool, causing +one to snuggle cosily under the warm blankets of the Eagle House. + +Father Abram and Miss Chester became great friends. The old miller +learned her story from Mrs. Rankin, and his interest went out quickly +to the slender lonely girl who was making her own way in the world. + +The mountain country was new to Miss Chester. She had lived many years +in the warm, flat town of Atlanta; and the grandeur and variety of the +Cumberlands delighted her. She was determined to enjoy every moment of +her stay. Her little hoard of savings had been estimated so carefully +in connection with her expenses that she knew almost to a penny what +her very small surplus would be when she returned to work. + +Miss Chester was fortunate in gaining Father Abram for a friend and +companion. He knew every road and peak and slope of the mountains near +Lakelands. Through him she became acquainted with the solemn delight +of the shadowy, tilted aisles of the pine forests, the dignity of the +bare crags, the crystal, tonic mornings, the dreamy, golden afternoons +full of mysterious sadness. So her health improved, and her spirits +grew light. She had a laugh as genial and hearty in its feminine +way as the famous laugh of Father Abram. Both of them were natural +optimists; and both knew how to present a serene and cheerful face to +the world. + +One day Miss Chester learned from one of the guests the history of +Father Abram's lost child. Quickly she hurried away and found the +miller seated on his favourite rustic bench near the chalybeate +spring. He was surprised when his little friend slipped her hand into +his, and looked at him with tears in her eyes. + +"Oh, Father Abram," she said, "I'm so sorry! I didn't know until +to-day about your little daughter. You will find her yet some day-- +Oh, I hope you will." + +The miller looked down at her with his strong, ready smile. + +"Thank you, Miss Rose," he said, in his usual cheery tones. "But I do +not expect to find Aglaia. For a few years I hoped that she had been +stolen by vagrants, and that she still lived; but I have lost that +hope. I believe that she was drowned." + +"I can understand," said Miss Chester, "how the doubt must have made +it so hard to bear. And yet you are so cheerful and so ready to make +other people's burdens light. Good Father Abram!" + +"Good Miss Rose!" mimicked the miller, smiling. "Who thinks of others +more than you do?" + +A whimsical mood seemed to strike Miss Chester. + +"Oh, Father Abram," she cried, "wouldn't it be grand if I should prove +to be your daughter? Wouldn't it be romantic? And wouldn't you like to +have me for a daughter?" + +"Indeed, I would," said the miller, heartily. "If Aglaia had lived I +could wish for nothing better than for her to have grown up to be just +such a little woman as you are. Maybe you are Aglaia," he continued, +falling in with her playful mood; "can't you remember when we lived at +the mill?" + +Miss Chester fell swiftly into serious meditation. Her large eyes were +fixed vaguely upon something in the distance. Father Abram was amused +at her quick return to seriousness. She sat thus for a long time +before she spoke. + +"No," she said at length, with a long sigh, "I can't remember anything +at all about a mill. I don't think that I ever saw a flour mill in my +life until I saw your funny little church. And if I were your little +girl I would remember it, wouldn't I? I'm so sorry, Father Abram." + +"So am I," said Father Abram, humouring her. "But if you cannot +remember that you are my little girl, Miss Rose, surely you can +recollect being some one else's. You remember your own parents, of +course." + +"Oh, yes; I remember them very well--especially my father. He wasn't a +bit like you, Father Abram. Oh, I was only making believe: Come, now, +you've rested long enough. You promised to show me the pool where you +can see the trout playing, this afternoon. I never saw a trout." + +Late one afternoon Father Abram set out for the old mill alone. He +often went to sit and think of the old days when he lived in the +cottage across the road. Time had smoothed away the sharpness of his +grief until he no longer found the memory of those times painful. But +whenever Abram Strong sat in the melancholy September afternoons on +the spot where "Dums" used to run in every day with her yellow curls +flying, the smile that Lakelands always saw upon his face was not +there. + +The miller made his way slowly up the winding, steep road. The trees +crowded so close to the edge of it that he walked in their shade, with +his hat in his hand. Squirrels ran playfully upon the old rail fence +at his right. Quails were calling to their young broods in the wheat +stubble. The low sun sent a torrent of pale gold up the ravine that +opened to the west. Early September!--it was within a few days only of +the anniversary of Aglaia's disappearance. + +The old overshot-wheel, half covered with mountain ivy, caught patches +of the warm sunlight filtering through the trees. The cottage across +the road was still standing, but it would doubtless go down before the +next winter's mountain blasts. It was overrun with morning glory and +wild gourd vines, and the door hung by one hinge. + +Father Abram pushed open the mill door, and entered softly. And then +he stood still, wondering. He heard the sound of some one within, +weeping inconsolably. He looked, and saw Miss Chester sitting in a dim +pew, with her head bowed upon an open letter that her hands held. + +Father Abram went to her, and laid one of his strong hands firmly upon +hers. She looked up, breathed his name, and tried to speak further. + +"Not yet, Miss Rose," said the miller, kindly. "Don't try to talk yet. +There's nothing as good for you as a nice, quiet little cry when you +are feeling blue." + +It seemed that the old miller, who had known so much sorrow himself, +was a magician in driving it away from others. Miss Chester's sobs +grew easier. Presently she took her little plain-bordered handkerchief +and wiped away a drop or two that had fallen from her eyes upon Father +Abram's big hand. Then she looked up and smiled through her tears. +Miss Chester could always smile before her tears had dried, just as +Father Abram could smile through his own grief. In that way the two +were very much alike. + +The miller asked her no questions; but by and by Miss Chester began to +tell him. + +It was the old story that always seems so big and important to the +young, and that brings reminiscent smiles to their elders. Love was +the theme, as may be supposed. There was a young man in Atlanta, full +of all goodness and the graces, who had discovered that Miss Chester +also possessed these qualities above all other people in Atlanta or +anywhere else from Greenland to Patagonia. She showed Father Abram the +letter over which she had been weeping. It was a manly, tender letter, +a little superlative and urgent, after the style of love letters +written by young men full of goodness and the graces. He proposed for +Miss Chester's hand in marriage at once. Life, he said, since her +departure for a three-weeks' visit, was not to be endured. He begged +for an immediate answer; and if it were favourable he promised to fly, +ignoring the narrow-gauge railroad, at once to Lakelands. + +"And now where does the trouble come in?" asked the miller when he had +read the letter. + +"I cannot marry him," said Miss Chester. + +"Do you want to marry him?" asked Father Abram. + +"Oh, I love him," she answered, "but--" Down went her head and she +sobbed again. + +"Come, Miss Rose," said the miller; "you can give me your confidence. +I do not question you, but I think you can trust me." + +"I do trust you," said the girl. "I will tell you why I must refuse +Ralph. I am nobody; I haven't even a name; the name I call myself is +a lie. Ralph is a noble man. I love him with all my heart, but I can +never be his." + +"What talk is this?" said Father Abram. "You said that you remember +your parents. Why do you say you have no name? I do not understand." + +"I do remember them," said Miss Chester. "I remember them too well. +My first recollections are of our life somewhere in the far South. We +moved many times to different towns and states. I have picked cotton, +and worked in factories, and have often gone without enough food and +clothes. My mother was sometimes good to me; my father was always +cruel, and beat me. I think they were both idle and unsettled. + +"One night when we were living in a little town on a river near +Atlanta they had a great quarrel. It was while they were abusing and +taunting each other that I learned--oh, Father Abram, I learned that I +didn't even have the right to be--don't you understand? I had no right +even to a name; I was nobody. + +"I ran away that night. I walked to Atlanta and found work. I gave +myself the name of Rose Chester, and have earned my own living ever +since. Now you know why I cannot marry Ralph--and, oh, I can never +tell him why." + +Better than any sympathy, more helpful than pity, was Father Abram's +depreciation of her woes. + +"Why, dear, dear! is that all?" he said. "Fie, fie! I thought +something was in the way. If this perfect young man is a man at all he +will not care a pinch of bran for your family tree. Dear Miss Rose, +take my word for it, it is yourself he cares for. Tell him frankly, +just as you have told me, and I'll warrant that he will laugh at your +story, and think all the more of you for it." + +"I shall never tell him," said Miss Chester, sadly. "And I shall never +marry him nor any one else. I have not the right." + +But they saw a long shadow come bobbing up the sunlit road. And then +came a shorter one bobbing by its side; and presently two strange +figures approached the church. The long shadow was made by Miss Phoebe +Summers, the organist, come to practise. Tommy Teague, aged twelve, +was responsible for the shorter shadow. It was Tommy's day to pump the +organ for Miss Phoebe, and his bare toes proudly spurned the dust of +the road. + +Miss Phoebe, in her lilac-spray chintz dress, with her accurate little +curls hanging over each ear, courtesied low to Father Abram, and shook +her curls ceremoniously at Miss Chester. Then she and her assistant +climbed the steep stairway to the organ loft. + +In the gathering shadows below, Father Abram and Miss Chester +lingered. They were silent; and it is likely that they were busy with +their memories. Miss Chester sat, leaning her head on her hand, with +her eyes fixed far away. Father Abram stood in the next pew, looking +thoughtfully out of the door at the road and the ruined cottage. + +Suddenly the scene was transformed for him back almost a score of +years into the past. For, as Tommy pumped away, Miss Phoebe struck +a low bass note on the organ and held it to test the volume of air +that it contained. The church ceased to exist, so far as Father Abram +was concerned. The deep, booming vibration that shook the little +frame building was no note from an organ, but the humming of the mill +machinery. He felt sure that the old overshot-wheel was turning; that +he was back again, a dusty, merry miller in the old mountain mill. And +now evening was come, and soon would come Aglaia with flying colours, +toddling across the road to take him home to supper. Father Abram's +eyes were fixed upon the broken door of the cottage. + +And then came another wonder. In the gallery overhead the sacks of +flour were stacked in long rows. Perhaps a mouse had been at one of +them; anyway the jar of the deep organ note shook down between the +cracks of the gallery floor a stream of flour, covering Father Abram +from head to foot with the white dust. And then the old miller stepped +into the aisle, and waved his arms and began to sing the miller's +song: + + + "The wheel goes round, + The grist is ground, + The dusty miller's merry." + + +--and then the rest of the miracle happened. Miss Chester was leaning +forward from her pew, as pale as the flour itself, her wide-open eyes +staring at Father Abram like one in a waking dream. When he began the +song she stretched out her arms to him; her lips moved; she called to +him in dreamy tones: "Da-da, come take Dums home!" + +Miss Phoebe released the low key of the organ. But her work had been +well done. The note that she struck had beaten down the doors of a +closed memory; and Father Abram held his lost Aglaia close in his +arms. + +When you visit Lakelands they will tell you more of this story. They +will tell you how the lines of it were afterward traced, and the +history of the miller's daughter revealed after the gipsy wanderers +had stolen her on that September day, attracted by her childish +beauty. But you should wait until you sit comfortably on the shaded +porch of the Eagle House, and then you can have the story at your +ease. It seems best that our part of it should close while Miss +Phoebe's deep bass note was yet reverberating softly. + +And yet, to my mind, the finest thing of it all happened while Father +Abram and his daughter were walking back to the Eagle House in the +long twilight, almost too glad to speak. + +"Father," she said, somewhat timidly and doubtfully, "have you a great +deal of money?" + +"A great deal?" said the miller. "Well, that depends. There is plenty +unless you want to buy the moon or something equally expensive." + +"Would it cost very, very much," asked Aglaia, who had always counted +her dimes so carefully, "to send a telegram to Atlanta?" + +"Ah," said Father Abram, with a little sigh, "I see. You want to ask +Ralph to come." + +Aglaia looked up at him with a tender smile. + +"I want to ask him to wait," she said. "I have just found my father, +and I want it to be just we two for a while. I want to tell him he +will have to wait." + + + + +XVII + +NEW YORK BY CAMP FIRE LIGHT + + +Away out in the Creek Nation we learned things about New York. + +We were on a hunting trip, and were camped one night on the bank of a +little stream. Bud Kingsbury was our skilled hunter and guide, and it +was from his lips that we had explanations of Manhattan and the queer +folks that inhabit it. Bud had once spent a month in the metropolis, +and a week or two at other times, and he was pleased to discourse to +us of what he had seen. + +Fifty yards away from our camp was pitched the teepee of a wandering +family of Indians that had come up and settled there for the night. An +old, old Indian woman was trying to build a fire under an iron pot +hung upon three sticks. + +Bud went over to her assistance, and soon had her fire going. When he +came back we complimented him playfully upon his gallantry. + +"Oh," said Bud, "don't mention it. It's a way I have. Whenever I see a +lady trying to cook things in a pot and having trouble I always go to +the rescue. I done the same thing once in a high-toned house in. New +York City. Heap big society teepee on Fifth Avenue. That Injun lady +kind of recalled it to my mind. Yes, I endeavours to be polite and +help the ladies out." + +The camp demanded the particulars. + +"I was manager of the Triangle B Ranch in the Panhandle," said Bud. +"It was owned at that time by old man Sterling, of New York. He wanted +to sell out, and he wrote for me to come on to New York and explain +the ranch to the syndicate that wanted to buy. So I sends to Fort +Worth and has a forty dollar suit of clothes made, and hits the trail +for the big village. + +"Well, when I got there, old man Sterling and his outfit certainly +laid themselves out to be agreeable. We had business and pleasure so +mixed up that you couldn't tell whether it was a treat or a trade half +the time. We had trolley rides, and cigars, and theatre round-ups, and +rubber parties." + +"Rubber parties?" said a listener, inquiringly. + +"Sure," said Bud. "Didn't you never attend 'em? You walk around and +try to look at the tops of the skyscrapers. Well, we sold the ranch, +and old man Sterling asks me 'round to his house to take grub on the +night before I started back. It wasn't any high-collared affair--just +me and the old man and his wife and daughter. But they was a +fine-haired outfit all right, and the lilies of the field wasn't in +it. They made my Fort Worth clothes carpenter look like a dealer in +horse blankets and gee strings. And then the table was all pompous +with flowers, and there was a whole kit of tools laid out beside +everybody's plate. You'd have thought you was fixed out to burglarize +a restaurant before you could get your grub. But I'd been in New York +over a week then, and I was getting on to stylish ways. I kind of +trailed behind and watched the others use the hardware supplies, and +then I tackled the chuck with the same weapons. It ain't much trouble +to travel with the high-flyers after you find out their gait. I got +along fine. I was feeling cool and agreeable, and pretty soon I was +talking away fluent as you please, all about the ranch and the West, +and telling 'em how the Indians eat grasshopper stew and snakes, and +you never saw people so interested. + +"But the real joy of that feast was that Miss Sterling. Just a little +trick she was, not bigger than two bits' worth of chewing plug; but +she had a way about her that seemed to say she was the people, and you +believed it. And yet, she never put on any airs, and she smiled at me +the same as if I was a millionaire while I was telling about a Creek +dog feast and listened like it was news from home. + +"By and by, after we had eat oysters and some watery soup and truck +that never was in my repertory, a Methodist preacher brings in a kind +of camp stove arrangement, all silver, on long legs, with a lamp under +it. + +"Miss Sterling lights up and begins to do some cooking right on the +supper table. I wondered why old man Sterling didn't hire a cook, with +all the money he had. Pretty soon she dished out some cheesy tasting +truck that she said was rabbit, but I swear there had never been a +Molly cotton tail in a mile of it. + +"The last thing on the programme was lemonade. It was brought around +in little flat glass bowls and set by your plate. I was pretty +thirsty, and I picked up mine and took a big swig of it. Right there +was where the little lady had made a mistake. She had put in the lemon +all right, but she'd forgot the sugar. The best housekeepers slip up +sometimes. I thought maybe Miss Sterling was just learning to keep +house and cook--that rabbit would surely make you think so--and I says +to myself, 'Little lady, sugar or no sugar I'll stand by you,' and I +raises up my bowl again and drinks the last drop of the lemonade. And +then all the balance of 'em picks up their bowls and does the same. +And then I gives Miss Sterling the laugh proper, just to carry it off +like a joke, so she wouldn't feel bad about the mistake. + +"After we all went into the sitting room she sat down and talked to me +quite awhile. + +"'It was so kind of you, Mr. Kingsbury,' says she, 'to bring my +blunder off so nicely. It was so stupid of me to forget the sugar.' + +"'Never you mind,' says I, 'some lucky man will throw his rope over a +mighty elegant little housekeeper some day, not far from here.' + +"'If you mean me, Mr. Kingsbury,' says she, laughing out loud, 'I hope +he will be as lenient with my poor housekeeping as you have been.' + +"'Don't mention it,' says I. 'Anything to oblige the ladies.'" + +Bud ceased his reminiscences. And then some one asked him what he +considered the most striking and prominent trait of New Yorkers. + +"The most visible and peculiar trait of New York folks," answered Bud, +"is New York. Most of 'em has New York on the brain. They have heard +of other places, such as Waco, and Paris, and Hot Springs, and London; +but they don't believe in 'em. They think that town is all Merino. Now +to show you how much they care for their village I'll tell you about +one of 'em that strayed out as far as the Triangle B while I was +working there. + +"This New Yorker come out there looking for a job on the ranch. He +said he was a good horseback rider, and there was pieces of tanbark +hanging on his clothes yet from his riding school. + +"Well, for a while they put him to keeping books in the ranch store, +for he was a devil at figures. But he got tired of that, and asked for +something more in the line of activity. The boys on the ranch liked +him all right, but he made us tired shouting New York all the time. +Every night he'd tell us about East River and J. P. Morgan and the +Eden Musee and Hetty Green and Central Park till we used to throw tin +plates and branding irons at him. + +"One day this chap gets on a pitching pony, and the pony kind of +sidled up his back and went to eating grass while the New Yorker was +coming down. + +"He come down on his head on a chunk of mesquit wood, and he didn't +show any designs toward getting up again. We laid him out in a tent, +and he begun to look pretty dead. So Gideon Pease saddles up and +burns the wind for old Doc Sleeper's residence in Dogtown, thirty +miles away. + +"The doctor comes over and he investigates the patient. + +"'Boys,' says he, 'you might as well go to playing seven-up for his +saddle and clothes, for his head's fractured and if he lives ten +minutes it will be a remarkable case of longevity.' + +"Of course we didn't gamble for the poor rooster's saddle--that was +one of Doc's jokes. But we stood around feeling solemn, and all of us +forgive him for having talked us to death about New York. + +"I never saw anybody about to hand in his checks act more peaceful +than this fellow. His eyes were fixed 'way up in the air, and he was +using rambling words to himself all about sweet music and beautiful +streets and white-robed forms, and he was smiling like dying was a +pleasure. + +"'He's about gone now,' said Doc. 'Whenever they begin to think they +see heaven it's all off.' + +"Blamed if that New York man didn't sit right up when he heard the Doc +say that. + +"'Say,' says he, kind of disappointed, 'was that heaven? Confound it +all, I thought it was Broadway. Some of you fellows get my clothes. +I'm going to get up.' + +"And I'll be blamed," concluded Bud, "if he wasn't on the train with a +ticket for New York in his pocket four days afterward!" + + + + +XVIII + +THE ADVENTURES OF SHAMROCK JOLNES + + +I am so fortunate as to count Shamrock Jolnes, the great New York +detective, among my muster of friends. Jolnes is what is called the +"inside man" of the city detective force. He is an expert in the use +of the typewriter, and it is his duty, whenever there is a "murder +mystery" to be solved, to sit at a desk telephone at headquarters and +take down the messages of "cranks" who 'phone in their confessions to +having committed the crime. + +But on certain "off" days when confessions are coming in slowly and +three or four newspapers have run to earth as many different guilty +persons, Jolnes will knock about the town with me, exhibiting, to my +great delight and instruction, his marvellous powers of observation +and deduction. + +The other day I dropped in at Headquarters and found the great +detective gazing thoughtfully at a string that was tied tightly around +his little finger. + +"Good morning, Whatsup," he said, without turning his head. "I'm glad +to notice that you've had your house fitted up with electric lights at +last." + +"Will you please tell me," I said, in surprise, "how you knew that? I +am sure that I never mentioned the fact to any one, and the wiring was +a rush order not completed until this morning." + +"Nothing easier," said Jolnes, genially. "As you came in I caught the +odour of the cigar you are smoking. I know an expensive cigar; and +I know that not more than three men in New York can afford to smoke +cigars and pay gas bills too at the present time. That was an easy +one. But I am working just now on a little problem of my own." + +"Why have you that string on your finger?" I asked. + +"That's the problem," said Jolnes. "My wife tied that on this morning +to remind me of something I was to send up to the house. Sit down, +Whatsup, and excuse me for a few moments." + +The distinguished detective went to a wall telephone, and stood with +the receiver to his ear for probably ten minutes. + +"Were you listening to a confession?" I asked, when he had returned to +his chair. + +"Perhaps," said Jolnes, with a smile, "it might be called something of +the sort. To be frank with you, Whatsup, I've cut out the dope. I've +been increasing the quantity for so long that morphine doesn't have +much effect on me any more. I've got to have something more powerful. +That telephone I just went to is connected with a room in the Waldorf +where there's an author's reading in progress. Now, to get at the +solution of this string." + +After five minutes of silent pondering, Jolnes looked at me, with a +smile, and nodded his head. + +"Wonderful man!" I exclaimed; "already?" + +"It is quite simple," he said, holding up his finger. "You see +that knot? That is to prevent my forgetting. It is, therefore, a +forget-me-knot. A forget-me-not is a flower. It was a sack of flour +that I was to send home!" + +"Beautiful!" I could not help crying out in admiration. + +"Suppose we go out for a ramble," suggested Jolnes. + +"There is only one case of importance on hand just now. Old man +McCarty, one hundred and four years old, died from eating too many +bananas. The evidence points so strongly to the Mafia that the police +have surrounded the Second Avenue Katzenjammer Gambrinus Club No. 2, +and the capture of the assassin is only the matter of a few hours. The +detective force has not yet been called on for assistance." + +Jolnes and I went out and up the street toward the corner, where we +were to catch a surface car. + +Half-way up the block we met Rheingelder, an acquaintance of ours, who +held a City Hall position. + +"Good morning, Rheingelder," said Jolnes, halting. + +"Nice breakfast that was you had this morning." + +Always on the lookout for the detective's remarkable feats of +deduction, I saw Jolnes's eye flash for an instant upon a long +yellow splash on the shirt bosom and a smaller one upon the chin of +Rheingelder--both undoubtedly made by the yolk of an egg. + +"Oh, dot is some of your detectiveness," said Rheingelder, shaking all +over with a smile. "Vell, I pet you trinks und cigars all round dot +you cannot tell vot I haf eaten for breakfast." + +"Done," said Jolnes. "Sausage, pumpernickel and coffee." + +Rheingelder admitted the correctness of the surmise and paid the bet. +When we had proceeded on our way I said to Jolnes: + +"I thought you looked at the egg spilled on his chin and shirt front." + +"I did," said Jolnes. "That is where I began my deduction. Rheingelder +is a very economical, saving man. Yesterday eggs dropped in the market +to twenty-eight cents per dozen. To-day they are quoted at forty-two. +Rheingelder ate eggs yesterday, and to-day he went back to his usual +fare. A little thing like this isn't anything, Whatsup; it belongs to +the primary arithmetic class." + +When we boarded the street car we found the seats all +occupied--principally by ladies. Jolnes and I stood on the rear +platform. + +About the middle of the car there sat an elderly man with a short, +gray beard, who looked to be the typical, well-dressed New Yorker. At +successive corners other ladies climbed aboard, and soon three or four +of them were standing over the man, clinging to straps and glaring +meaningly at the man who occupied the coveted seat. But he resolutely +retained his place. + +"We New Yorkers," I remarked to Jolnes, "have about lost our manners, +as far as the exercise of them in public goes." + +"Perhaps so," said Jolnes, lightly; "but the man you evidently refer +to happens to be a very chivalrous and courteous gentleman from Old +Virginia. He is spending a few days in New York with his wife and two +daughters, and he leaves for the South to-night." + +"You know him, then?" I said, in amazement. + +"I never saw him before we stepped on the car," declared the +detective, smilingly. + +"By the gold tooth of the Witch of Endor!" I cried, "if you can +construe all that from his appearance you are dealing in nothing else +than black art." + +"The habit of observation--nothing more," said Jolnes. "If the old +gentleman gets off the car before we do, I think I can demonstrate to +you the accuracy of my deduction." + +Three blocks farther along the gentleman rose to leave the car. Jolnes +addressed him at the door: + +"Pardon me, sir, but are you not Colonel Hunter, of Norfolk, +Virginia?" + +"No, suh," was the extremely courteous answer. "My name, suh, is +Ellison--Major Winfield R. Ellison, from Fairfax County, in the same +state. I know a good many people, suh, in Norfolk--the Goodriches, the +Tollivers, and the Crabtrees, suh, but I never had the pleasure of +meeting yo' friend, Colonel Hunter. I am happy to say, suh, that I am +going back to Virginia to-night, after having spent a week in yo' city +with my wife and three daughters. I shall be in Norfolk in about ten +days, and if you will give me yo' name, suh, I will take pleasure in +looking up Colonel Hunter and telling him that you inquired after him, +suh." + +"Thank you," said Jolnes; "tell him that Reynolds sent his regards, if +you will be so kind." + +I glanced at the great New York detective and saw that a look of +intense chagrin had come upon his clear-cut features. Failure in the +slightest point always galled Shamrock Jolnes. + +"Did you say your _three_ daughters?" he asked of the Virginia +gentleman. + +"Yes, suh, my three daughters, all as fine girls as there are in +Fairfax County," was the answer. + +With that Major Ellison stopped the car and began to descend the step. + +Shamrock Jolnes clutched his arm. + +"One moment, sir," he begged, in an urbane voice in which I alone +detected the anxiety--"am I not right in believing that one of the +young ladies is an _adopted_ daughter?" + +"You are, suh," admitted the major, from the ground, "but how the +devil you knew it, suh, is mo' than I can tell." + +"And mo' than I can tell, too," I said, as the car went on. + +Jolnes was restored to his calm, observant serenity by having wrested +victory from his apparent failure; so after we got off the car he +invited me into a cafe, promising to reveal the process of his latest +wonderful feat. + +"In the first place," he began after we were comfortably seated, "I +knew the gentleman was no New Yorker because he was flushed and uneasy +and restless on account of the ladies that were standing, although he +did not rise and give them his seat. I decided from his appearance +that he was a Southerner rather than a Westerner. + +"Next I began to figure out his reason for not relinquishing his seat +to a lady when he evidently felt strongly, but not overpoweringly, +impelled to do so. I very quickly decided upon that. I noticed that +one of his eyes had received a severe jab in one corner, which was red +and inflamed, and that all over his face were tiny round marks about +the size of the end of an uncut lead pencil. Also upon both of his +patent leather shoes were a number of deep imprints shaped like ovals +cut off square at one end. + +"Now, there is only one district in New York City where a man is bound +to receive scars and wounds and indentations of that sort--and that +is along the sidewalks of Twenty-third Street and a portion of Sixth +Avenue south of there. I knew from the imprints of trampling French +heels on his feet and the marks of countless jabs in the face from +umbrellas and parasols carried by women in the shopping district that +he had been in conflict with the amazonian troops. And as he was a +man of intelligent appearance, I knew he would not have braved such +dangers unless he had been dragged thither by his own women folk. +Therefore, when he got on the car his anger at the treatment he had +received was sufficient to make him keep his seat in spite of his +traditions of Southern chivalry." + +"That is all very well," I said, "but why did you insist upon +daughters--and especially two daughters? Why couldn't a wife alone +have taken him shopping?" + +"There had to be daughters," said Jolnes, calmly. "If he had only a +wife, and she near his own age, he could have bluffed her into going +alone. If he had a young wife she would prefer to go alone. So there +you are." + +"I'll admit that," I said; "but, now, why two daughters? And how, in +the name of all the prophets, did you guess that one was adopted when +he told you he had three?" + +"Don't say guess," said Jolnes, with a touch of pride in his air; +"there is no such word in the lexicon of ratiocination. In Major +Ellison's buttonhole there was a carnation and a rosebud backed by a +geranium leaf. No woman ever combined a carnation and a rosebud into +a boutonniere. Close your eyes, Whatsup, and give the logic of your +imagination a chance. Cannot you see the lovely Adele fastening the +carnation to the lapel so that papa may be gay upon the street? And +then the romping Edith May dancing up with sisterly jealousy to add +her rosebud to the adornment?" + +"And then," I cried, beginning to feel enthusiasm, "when he declared +that he had three daughters--" + +"I could see," said Jolnes, "one in the background who added no +flower; and I knew that she must be--" + +"Adopted!" I broke in. "I give you every credit; but how did you know +he was leaving for the South to-night?" + +"In his breast pocket," said the great detective, "something large and +oval made a protuberance. Good liquor is scarce on trains, and it is a +long journey from New York to Fairfax County." + +"Again, I must bow to you," I said. "And tell me this, so that my last +shred of doubt will be cleared away; why did you decide that he was +from Virginia?" + +"It was very faint, I admit," answered Shamrock Jolnes, "but no +trained observer could have failed to detect the odour of mint in the +car." + + + + +XIX + +THE LADY HIGHER UP + + +New York City, they said, was deserted; and that accounted, doubtless, +for the sounds carrying so far in the tranquil summer air. The breeze +was south-by-southwest; the hour was midnight; the theme was a bit of +feminine gossip by wireless mythology. Three hundred and sixty-five +feet above the heated asphalt the tiptoeing symbolic deity on +Manhattan pointed her vacillating arrow straight, for the time, in +the direction of her exalted sister on Liberty Island. The lights of +the great Garden were out; the benches in the Square were filled with +sleepers in postures so strange that beside them the writhing figures +in Dore's illustrations of the Inferno would have straightened into +tailor's dummies. The statue of Diana on the tower of the Garden--its +constancy shown by its weathercock ways, its innocence by the coating +of gold that it has acquired, its devotion to style by its single, +graceful flying scarf, its candour and artlessness by its habit of +ever drawing the long bow, its metropolitanism by its posture of swift +flight to catch a Harlem train--remained poised with its arrow pointed +across the upper bay. Had that arrow sped truly and horizontally it +would have passed fifty feet above the head of the heroic matron whose +duty it is to offer a cast-ironical welcome to the oppressed of other +lands. + +Seaward this lady gazed, and the furrows between steamship lines began +to cut steerage rates. The translators, too, have put an extra burden +upon her. "Liberty Lighting the World" (as her creator christened +her) would have had a no more responsible duty, except for the size +of it, than that of an electrician or a Standard Oil magnate. But to +"enlighten" the world (as our learned civic guardians "Englished" it) +requires abler qualities. And so poor Liberty, instead of having a +sinecure as a mere illuminator, must be converted into a Chautauqua +schoolma'am, with the oceans for her field instead of the placid, +classic lake. With a fireless torch and an empty head must she dispel +the shadows of the world and teach it its A, B, C's. + +"Ah, there, Mrs. Liberty!" called a clear, rollicking soprano voice +through the still, midnight air. + +"Is that you, Miss Diana? Excuse my not turning my head. I'm not as +flighty and whirly-whirly as some. And 'tis so hoarse I am I can +hardly talk on account of the peanut-hulls left on the stairs in me +throat by that last boatload of tourists from Marietta, Ohio. 'Tis +after being a fine evening, miss." + +"If you don't mind my asking," came the bell-like tones of the golden +statue, "I'd like to know where you got that City Hall brogue. I +didn't know that Liberty was necessarily Irish." + +"If ye'd studied the history of art in its foreign complications +ye'd not need to ask," replied the offshore statue. "If ye wasn't +so light-headed and giddy ye'd know that I was made by a Dago and +presented to the American people on behalf of the French Government +for the purpose of welcomin' Irish immigrants into the Dutch city of +New York. 'Tis that I've been doing night and day since I was erected. +Ye must know, Miss Diana, that 'tis with statues the same as with +people--'tis not their makers nor the purposes for which they were +created that influence the operations of their tongues at all--it's +the associations with which they become associated, I'm telling ye." + +"You're dead right," agreed Diana. "I notice it on myself. If any of +the old guys from Olympus were to come along and hand me any hot air +in the ancient Greek I couldn't tell it from a conversation between a +Coney Island car conductor and a five-cent fare." + +"I'm right glad ye've made up your mind to be sociable, Miss Diana," +said Mrs. Liberty. "'Tis a lonesome life I have down here. Is there +anything doin' up in the city, Miss Diana, dear?" + +"Oh, la, la, la!--no," said Diana. "Notice that 'la, la, la,' Aunt +Liberty? Got that from 'Paris by Night' on the roof garden under me. +You'll hear that 'la, la, la' at the Cafe McCann now, along with +'garsong.' The bohemian crowd there have become tired of 'garsong' +since O'Rafferty, the head waiter, punched three of them for calling +him it. Oh, no; the town's strickly on the bum these nights. +Everybody's away. Saw a downtown merchant on a roof garden this +evening with his stenographer. Show was so dull he went to sleep. A +waiter biting on a dime tip to see if it was good half woke him up. +He looks around and sees his little pothooks perpetrator. 'H'm!' says +he, 'will you take a letter, Miss De St. Montmorency?' 'Sure, in a +minute,' says she, 'if you'll make it an X.' + +"That was the best thing happened on the roof. So you see how dull it +is. La, la, la!" + +"'Tis fine ye have it up there in society, Miss Diana. Ye have the +cat show and the horse show and the military tournaments where the +privates look grand as generals and the generals try to look grand +as floor-walkers. And ye have the Sportsmen's Show, where the girl +that measures 36, 19, 45 cooks breakfast food in a birch-bark wigwam +on the banks of the Grand Canal of Venice conducted by one of the +Vanderbilts, Bernard McFadden, and the Reverends Dowie and Duss. And +ye have the French ball, where the original Cohens and the Robert +Emmet-Sangerbund Society dance the Highland fling one with another. +And ye have the grand O'Ryan ball, which is the most beautiful pageant +in the world, where the French students vie with the Tyrolean warblers +in doin' the cake walk. Ye have the best job for a statue in the whole +town, Miss Diana. + +"'Tis weary work," sighed the island statue, "disseminatin' the +science of liberty in New York Bay. Sometimes when I take a peep down +at Ellis Island and see the gang of immigrants I'm supposed to light +up, 'tis tempted I am to blow out the gas and let the coroner write +out their naturalization papers." + +"Say, it's a shame, ain't it, to give you the worst end of it?" came +the sympathetic antiphony of the steeplechase goddess. "It must be +awfully lonesome down there with so much water around you. I don't see +how you ever keep your hair in curl. And that Mother Hubbard you are +wearing went out ten years ago. I think those sculptor guys ought to +be held for damages for putting iron or marble clothes on a lady. +That's where Mr. St. Gaudens was wise. I'm always a little ahead of +the styles; but they're coming my way pretty fast. Excuse my back a +moment--I caught a puff of wind from the north--shouldn't wonder if +things had loosened up in Esopus. There, now! it's in the West--I +should think that gold plank would have calmed the air out in that +direction. What were you saying, Mrs. Liberty?" + +"A fine chat I've had with ye, Miss Diana, ma'am, but I see one +of them European steamers a-sailin' up the Narrows, and I must be +attendin' to me duties. 'Tis me job to extend aloft the torch of +Liberty to welcome all them that survive the kicks that the steerage +stewards give 'em while landin.' Sure 'tis a great country ye can come +to for $8.50, and the doctor waitin' to send ye back home free if he +sees yer eyes red from cryin' for it." + +The golden statue veered in the changing breeze, menacing many points +on the horizon with its aureate arrow. + +"So long, Aunt Liberty," sweetly called Diana of the Tower. "Some +night, when the wind's right. I'll call you up again. But--say! you +haven't got such a fierce kick coming about your job. I've kept a +pretty good watch on the island of Manhattan since I've been up here. +That's a pretty sick-looking bunch of liberty chasers they dump down +at your end of it; but they don't all stay that way. Every little +while up here I see guys signing checks and voting the right ticket, +and encouraging the arts and taking a bath every morning, that was +shoved ashore by a dock labourer born in the United States who never +earned over forty dollars a month. Don't run down your job, Aunt +Liberty; you're all right, all right." + + + + +XX + +THE GREATER CONEY + + +"Next Sunday," said Dennis Carnahan, "I'll be after going down to see +the new Coney Island that's risen like a phoenix bird from the ashes +of the old resort. I'm going with Norah Flynn, and we'll fall victims +to all the dry goods deceptions, from the red-flannel eruption of +Mount Vesuvius to the pink silk ribbons on the race-suicide problems +in the incubator kiosk. + +"Was I there before? I was. I was there last Tuesday. Did I see the +sights? I did not. + +"Last Monday I amalgamated myself with the Bricklayers' Union, and in +accordance with the rules I was ordered to quit work the same day on +account of a sympathy strike with the Lady Salmon Canners' Lodge No.2, +of Tacoma, Washington. + +"'Twas disturbed I was in mind and proclivities by losing me job, +bein' already harassed in me soul on account of havin' quarrelled +with Norah Flynn a week before by reason of hard words spoken at the +Dairymen and Street-Sprinkler Drivers' semi-annual ball, caused by +jealousy and prickly heat and that divil, Andy Coghlin. + +"So, I says, it will be Coney for Tuesday; and if the chutes and the +short change and the green-corn silk between the teeth don't create +diversions and get me feeling better, then I don't know at all. + +"Ye will have heard that Coney has received moral reconstruction. The +old Bowery, where they used to take your tintype by force and give ye +knockout drops before having your palm read, is now called the Wall +Street of the island. The wienerwurst stands are required by law to +keep a news ticker in 'em; and the doughnuts are examined every four +years by a retired steamboat inspector. The nigger man's head that +was used by the old patrons to throw baseballs at is now illegal; +and, by order of the Police Commissioner the image of a man drivin' +an automobile has been substituted. I hear that the old immoral +amusements have been suppressed. People who used to go down from New +York to sit in the sand and dabble in the surf now give up their +quarters to squeeze through turnstiles and see imitations of city +fires and floods painted on canvas. The reprehensible and degradin' +resorts that disgraced old Coney are said to be wiped out. The +wipin'-out process consists of raisin' the price from 10 cents to 25 +cents, and hirin' a blonde named Maudie to sell tickets instead of +Micky, the Bowery Bite. That's what they say--I don't know. + +"But to Coney I goes a-Tuesday. I gets off the 'L' and starts for the +glitterin' show. 'Twas a fine sight. The Babylonian towers and the +Hindoo roof gardens was blazin' with thousands of electric lights, and +the streets was thick with people. 'Tis a true thing they say that +Coney levels all rank. I see millionaires eatin' popcorn and trampin' +along with the crowd; and I see eight-dollar-a-week clothin'-store +clerks in red automobiles fightin' one another for who'd squeeze the +horn when they come to a corner. + +"'I made a mistake,' I says to myself. 'Twas not Coney I needed. +When a man's sad 'tis not scenes of hilarity he wants. 'Twould be +far better for him to meditate in a graveyard or to attend services +at the Paradise Roof Gardens. 'Tis no consolation when a man's lost +his sweetheart to order hot corn and have the waiter bring him the +powdered sugar cruet instead of salt and then conceal himself, or to +have Zozookum, the gipsy palmist, tell him that he has three children +and to look out for another serious calamity; price twenty-five cents. + +"I walked far away down on the beach, to the ruins of an old pavilion +near one corner of this new private park, Dreamland. A year ago that +old pavilion was standin' up straight and the old-style waiters was +slammin' a week's supply of clam chowder down in front of you for a +nickel and callin' you 'cully' friendly, and vice was rampant, and you +got back to New York with enough change to take a car at the bridge. +Now they tell me that they serve Welsh rabbits on Surf Avenue, and you +get the right change back in the movin'-picture joints. + +"I sat down at one side of the old pavilion and looked at the surf +spreadin' itself on the beach, and thought about the time me and Norah +Flynn sat on that spot last summer. 'Twas before reform struck the +island; and we was happy. We had tintypes and chowder in the ribald +dives, and the Egyptian Sorceress of the Nile told Norah out of her +hand, while I was waitin' in the door, that 'twould be the luck of +her to marry a red-headed gossoon with two crooked legs, and I was +overrunnin' with joy on account of the allusion. And 'twas there that +Norah Flynn put her two hands in mine a year before and we talked of +flats and the things she could cook and the love business that goes +with such episodes. And that was Coney as we loved it, and as the hand +of Satan was upon it, friendly and noisy and your money's worth, with +no fence around the ocean and not too many electric lights to show the +sleeve of a black serge coat against a white shirtwaist. + +"I sat with my back to the parks where they had the moon and the +dreams and the steeples corralled, and longed for the old Coney. There +wasn't many people on the beach. Lots of them was feedin' pennies into +the slot machines to see the 'Interrupted Courtship' in the movin' +pictures; and a good many was takin' the sea air in the Canals of +Venice and some was breathin' the smoke of the sea battle by actual +warships in a tank filled with real water. A few was down on the sands +enjoyin' the moonlight and the water. And the heart of me was heavy +for the new morals of the old island, while the bands behind me played +and the sea pounded on the bass drum in front. + +"And directly I got up and walked along the old pavilion, and there +on the other side of, half in the dark, was a slip of a girl sittin' +on the tumble-down timbers, and unless I'm a liar she was cryin' by +herself there, all alone. + +"'Is it trouble you are in, now, Miss,' says I; 'and what's to be done +about it?' + +"''Tis none of your business at all, Denny Carnahan,' says she, +sittin' up straight. And it was the voice of no other than Norah +Flynn. + +"'Then it's not,' says I, 'and we're after having a pleasant evening, +Miss Flynn. Have ye seen the sights of this new Coney Island, then? I +presume ye have come here for that purpose,' says I. + +"'I have,' says she. 'Me mother and Uncle Tim they are waiting beyond. +'Tis an elegant evening I've had. I've seen all the attractions that +be.' + +"'Right ye are,' says I to Norah; and I don't know when I've been +that amused. After disportin' me-self among the most laughable moral +improvements of the revised shell games I took meself to the shore +for the benefit of the cool air. 'And did ye observe the Durbar, Miss +Flynn?' + +"'I did,' says she, reflectin'; 'but 'tis not safe, I'm thinkin', to +ride down them slantin' things into the water.' + +"'How did ye fancy the shoot the chutes?' I asks. + +"'True, then, I'm afraid of guns,' says Norah. 'They make such noise +in my ears. But Uncle Tim, he shot them, he did, and won cigars. 'Tis +a fine time we had this day, Mr. Carnahan.' + +"'I'm glad you've enjoyed yerself,' I says. 'I suppose you've had a +roarin' fine time seein' the sights. And how did the incubators and +the helter-skelter and the midgets suit the taste of ye?' + +"'I--I wasn't hungry,' says Norah, faint. 'But mother ate a quantity +of all of 'em. I'm that pleased with the fine things in the new Coney +Island,' says she, 'that it's the happiest day I've seen in a long +time, at all.' + +"'Did you see Venice?' says I. + +"'We did,' says she. 'She was a beauty. She was all dressed in red, +she was, with--' + +"I listened no more to Norah Flynn. I stepped up and I gathered her +in my arms. + +"''Tis a story-teller ye are, Norah Flynn', says I. 'Ye've seen no +more of the greater Coney Island than I have meself. Come, now, tell +the truth--ye came to sit by the old pavilion by the waves where you +sat last summer and made Dennis Carnahan a happy man. Speak up, and +tell the truth.' + +"Norah stuck her nose against me vest. + +"'I despise it, Denny,' she says, half cryin'. 'Mother and Uncle +Tim went to see the shows, but I came down here to think of you. I +couldn't bear the lights and the crowd. Are you forgivin' me, Denny, +for the words we had?' + +"''Twas me fault,' says I. 'I came here for the same reason meself. +Look at the lights, Norah,' I says, turning my back to the sea--'ain't +they pretty?' + +"'They are,' says Norah, with her eyes shinin'; 'and do ye hear the +bands playin'? Oh, Denny, I think I'd like to see it all.' + +"'The old Coney is gone, darlin',' I says to her. 'Everything moves. +When a man's glad it's not scenes of sadness he wants. 'Tis a greater +Coney we have here, but we couldn't see it till we got in the humour +for it. Next Sunday, Norah darlin', we'll see the new place from end +to end." + + + + +XXI + +LAW AND ORDER + + +I found myself in Texas recently, revisiting old places and vistas. At +a sheep ranch where I had sojourned many years ago, I stopped for a +week. And, as all visitors do, I heartily plunged into the business at +hand, which happened to be that of dipping the sheep. + +Now, this process is so different from ordinary human baptism that it +deserves a word of itself. A vast iron cauldron with half the fires +of Avernus beneath it is partly filled with water that soon boils +furiously. Into that is cast concentrated lye, lime, and sulphur, +which is allowed to stew and fume until the witches' broth is strong +enough to scorch the third arm of Palladino herself. + +Then this concentrated brew is mixed in a long, deep vat with cubic +gallons of hot water, and the sheep are caught by their hind legs and +flung into the compound. After being thoroughly ducked by means of a +forked pole in the hands of a gentleman detailed for that purpose, +they are allowed to clamber up an incline into a corral and dry or +die, as the state of their constitutions may decree. If you ever +caught an able-bodied, two-year-old mutton by the hind legs and felt +the 750 volts of kicking that he can send though your arm seventeen +times before you can hurl him into the vat, you will, of course, hope +that he may die instead of dry. + +But this is merely to explain why Bud Oakley and I gladly stretched +ourselves on the bank of the nearby _charco_ after the dipping, glad +for the welcome inanition and pure contact with the earth after our +muscle-racking labours. The flock was a small one, and we finished at +three in the afternoon; so Bud brought from the _morral_ on his saddle +horn, coffee and a coffeepot and a big hunk of bread and some side +bacon. Mr. Mills, the ranch owner and my old friend, rode away to the +ranch with his force of Mexican _trabajadores_. + +While the bacon was frizzling nicely, there was the sound of horses' +hoofs behind us. Bud's six-shooter lay in its scabbard ten feet away +from his hand. He paid not the slightest heed to the approaching +horseman. This attitude of a Texas ranchman was so different from the +old-time custom that I marvelled. Instinctively I turned to inspect +the possible foe that menaced us in the rear. I saw a horseman dressed +in black, who might have been a lawyer or a parson or an undertaker, +trotting peaceably along the road by the _arroyo_. + +Bud noticed my precautionary movement and smiled sarcastically and +sorrowfully. + +"You've been away too long," said he. "You don't need to look around +any more when anybody gallops up behind you in this state, unless +something hits you in the back; and even then it's liable to be only +a bunch of tracts or a petition to sign against the trusts. I never +looked at that _hombre_ that rode by; but I'll bet a quart of sheep +dip that he's some double-dyed son of a popgun out rounding up +prohibition votes." + +"Times have changed, Bud," said I, oracularly. "Law and order is the +rule now in the South and the Southwest." + +I caught a cold gleam from Bud's pale blue eyes. + +"Not that I--" I began, hastily. + +"Of course you don't," said Bud warmly. "You know better. You've +lived here before. Law and order, you say? Twenty years ago we had +'em here. We only had two or three laws, such as against murder before +witnesses, and being caught stealing horses, and voting the Republican +ticket. But how is it now? All we get is orders; and the laws go out +of the state. Them legislators set up there at Austin and don't do +nothing but make laws against kerosene oil and schoolbooks being +brought into the state. I reckon they was afraid some man would go +home some evening after work and light up and get an education and go +to work and make laws to repeal aforesaid laws. Me, I'm for the old +days when law and order meant what they said. A law was a law, and a +order was a order." + +"But--" I began. + +"I was going on," continued Bud, "while this coffee is boiling, to +describe to you a case of genuine law and order that I knew of once +in the times when cases was decided in the chambers of a six-shooter +instead of a supreme court. + +"You've heard of old Ben Kirkman, the cattle king? His ranch run +from the Nueces to the Rio Grande. In them days, as you know, there +was cattle barons and cattle kings. The difference was this: when +a cattleman went to San Antone and bought beer for the newspaper +reporters and only give them the number of cattle he actually owned, +they wrote him up for a baron. When he bought 'em champagne wine and +added in the amount of cattle he had stole, they called him a king. + +"Luke Summers was one of his range bosses. And down to the king's +ranch comes one day a bunch of these Oriental people from New York +or Kansas City or thereabouts. Luke was detailed with a squad to +ride about with 'em, and see that the rattlesnakes got fair warning +when they was coming, and drive the deer out of their way. Among the +bunch was a black-eyed girl that wore a number two shoe. That's all I +noticed about her. But Luke must have seen more, for he married her +one day before the _caballard_ started back, and went over on Canada +Verde and set up a ranch of his own. I'm skipping over the sentimental +stuff on purpose, because I never saw or wanted to see any of it. And +Luke takes me along with him because we was old friends and I handled +cattle to suit him. + +"I'm skipping over much what followed, because I never saw or wanted +to see any of it--but three years afterward there was a boy kid +stumbling and blubbering around the galleries and floors of Luke's +ranch. I never had no use for kids; but it seems they did. And I'm +skipping over much what followed until one day out to the ranch drives +in hacks and buckboards a lot of Mrs. Summers's friends from the +East--a sister or so and two or three men. One looked like an uncle +to somebody; and one looked like nothing; and the other one had on +corkscrew pants and spoke in a tone of voice. I never liked a man who +spoke in a tone of voice. + +"I'm skipping over much what followed; but one afternoon when I rides +up to the ranch house to get some orders about a drove of beeves that +was to be shipped, I hears something like a popgun go off. I waits +at the hitching rack, not wishing to intrude on private affairs. In +a little while Luke comes out and gives some orders to some of his +Mexican hands, and they go and hitch up sundry and divers vehicles; +and mighty soon out comes one of the sisters or so and some of the two +or three men. But two of the two or three men carries between 'em the +corkscrew man who spoke in a tone of voice, and lays him flat down in +one of the wagons. And they all might have been seen wending their way +away. + +"'Bud,' says Luke to me, 'I want you to fix up a little and go up to +San Antone with me.' + +"'Let me get on my Mexican spurs,' says I, 'and I'm your company.' + +"One of the sisters or so seems to have stayed at the ranch with +Mrs. Summers and the kid. We rides to Encinal and catches the +International, and hits San Antone in the morning. After breakfast +Luke steers me straight to the office of a lawyer. They go in a room +and talk and then come out. + +"'Oh, there won't be any trouble, Mr. Summers,' says the lawyer. 'I'll +acquaint Judge Simmons with the facts to-day; and the matter will be +put through as promptly as possible. Law and order reigns in this +state as swift and sure as any in the country.' + +"'I'll wait for the decree if it won't take over half an hour,' says +Luke. + +"'Tut, tut,' says the lawyer man. 'Law must take its course. Come back +day after to-morrow at half-past nine.' + +"At that time me and Luke shows up, and the lawyer hands him a folded +document. And Luke writes him out a check. + +"On the sidewalk Luke holds up the paper to me and puts a finger the +size of a kitchen door latch on it and says: + +"'Decree of ab-so-lute divorce with cus-to-dy of the child.' + +"'Skipping over much what has happened of which I know nothing,' says +I, 'it looks to me like a split. Couldn't the lawyer man have made it +a strike for you?' + +"'Bud,' says he, in a pained style, 'that child is the one thing I +have to live for. _She_ may go; but the boy is mine!--think of it--I +have cus-to-dy of the child.' + +"'All right,' says I. 'If it's the law, let's abide by it. But I +think,' says I, 'that Judge Simmons might have used exemplary +clemency, or whatever is the legal term, in our case.' + +"You see, I wasn't inveigled much into the desirableness of having +infants around a ranch, except the kind that feed themselves and sell +for so much on the hoof when they grow up. But Luke was struck with +that sort of parental foolishness that I never could understand. All +the way riding from the station back to the ranch, he kept pulling +that decree out of his pocket and laying his finger on the back of it +and reading off to me the sum and substance of it. 'Cus-to-dy of the +child, Bud,' says he. 'Don't forget it--cus-to-dy of the child.' + +"But when we hits the ranch we finds our decree of court obviated, +_nolle prossed_, and remanded for trial. Mrs. Summers and the kid +was gone. They tell us that an hour after me and Luke had started for +San Antone she had a team hitched and lit out for the nearest station +with her trunks and the youngster. + +"Luke takes out his decree once more and reads off its emoluments. + +"'It ain't possible, Bud,' says he, 'for this to be. It's contrary +to law and order. It's wrote as plain as day here--"Cus-to-dy of the +child."' + +"'There is what you might call a human leaning,' says I, 'toward +smashing 'em both--not to mention the child.' + +"'Judge Simmons,' goes on Luke, 'is a incorporated officer of the law. +She can't take the boy away. He belongs to me by statutes passed and +approved by the state of Texas.' + +"'And he's removed from the jurisdiction of mundane mandamuses,' says +I, 'by the unearthly statutes of female partiality. Let us praise the +Lord and be thankful for whatever small mercies--' I begins; but I see +Luke don't listen to me. Tired as he was, he calls for a fresh horse +and starts back again for the station. + +"He come back two weeks afterward, not saying much. + +"'We can't get the trail,' says he; 'but we've done all the +telegraphing that the wires'll stand, and we've got these city rangers +they call detectives on the lookout. In the meantime, Bud,' says he, +'we'll round up them cows on Brush Creek, and wait for the law to take +its course.'" + +"And after that we never alluded to allusions, as you might say. + +"Skipping over much what happened in the next twelve years, Luke was +made sheriff of Mojada County. He made me his office deputy. Now, +don't get in your mind no wrong apparitions of a office deputy doing +sums in a book or mashing letters in a cider press. In them days his +job was to watch the back windows so nobody didn't plug the sheriff +in the rear while he was adding up mileage at his desk in front. And +in them days I had qualifications for the job. And there was law +and order in Mojada County, and schoolbooks, and all the whiskey +you wanted, and the Government built its own battleships instead of +collecting nickels from the school children to do it with. And, as I +say, there was law and order instead of enactments and restrictions +such as disfigure our umpire state to-day. We had our office at +Bildad, the county seat, from which we emerged forth on necessary +occasions to soothe whatever fracases and unrest that might occur in +our jurisdiction. + +"Skipping over much what happened while me and Luke was sheriff, I +want to give you an idea of how the law was respected in them days. +Luke was what you would call one of the most conscious men in the +world. He never knew much book law, but he had the inner emoluments of +justice and mercy inculcated into his system. If a respectable citizen +shot a Mexican or held up a train and cleaned out the safe in the +express car, and Luke ever got hold of him, he'd give the guilty party +such a reprimand and a cussin' out that he'd probable never do it +again. But once let somebody steal a horse (unless it was a Spanish +pony), or cut a wire fence, or otherwise impair the peace and +indignity of Mojada County, Luke and me would be on 'em with habeas +corpuses and smokeless powder and all the modern inventions of equity +and etiquette. + +"We certainly had our county on a basis of lawfulness. I've known +persons of Eastern classification with little spotted caps and +buttoned-up shoes to get off the train at Bildad and eat sandwiches +at the railroad station without being shot at or even roped and drug +about by the citizens of the town. + +"Luke had his own ideas of legality and justice. He was kind of +training me to succeed him when he went out of office. He was always +looking ahead to the time when he'd quit sheriffing. What he wanted +to do was to build a yellow house with lattice-work under the porch +and have hens scratching in the yard. The one main thing in his mind +seemed to be the yard. + +"'Bud,' he says to me, 'by instinct and sentiment I'm a contractor. +I want to be a contractor. That's what I'll be when I get out of +office.' + +"'What kind of a contractor?' says I. 'It sounds like a kind of a +business to me. You ain't going to haul cement or establish branches +or work on a railroad, are you?' + +"'You don't understand,' says Luke. 'I'm tired of space and horizons +and territory and distances and things like that. What I want is +reasonable contraction. I want a yard with a fence around it that you +can go out and set on after supper and listen to whip-poor-wills,' +says Luke. + +"That's the kind of a man he was. He was home-like, although he'd had +bad luck in such investments. But he never talked about them times on +the ranch. It seemed like he'd forgotten about it. I wondered how, +with his ideas of yards and chickens and notions of lattice-work, he'd +seemed to have got out of his mind that kid of his that had been taken +away from him, unlawful, in spite of his decree of court. But he +wasn't a man you could ask about such things as he didn't refer to in +his own conversation. + +"I reckon he'd put all his emotions and ideas into being sheriff. +I've read in books about men that was disappointed in these poetic +and fine-haired and high-collared affairs with ladies renouncing +truck of that kind and wrapping themselves up into some occupation +like painting pictures, or herding sheep, or science, or teaching +school--something to make 'em forget. Well, I guess that was the way +with Luke. But, as he couldn't paint pictures, he took it out in +rounding up horse thieves and in making Mojada County a safe place +to sleep in if you was well armed and not afraid of requisitions or +tarantulas. + +"One day there passes through Bildad a bunch of these money investors +from the East, and they stopped off there, Bildad being the dinner +station on the I. & G. N. They was just coming back from Mexico +looking after mines and such. There was five of 'em--four solid +parties, with gold watch chains, that would grade up over two hundred +pounds on the hoof, and one kid about seventeen or eighteen. + +"This youngster had on one of them cowboy suits such as tenderfoots +bring West with 'em; and you could see he was aching to wing a couple +of Indians or bag a grizzly or two with the little pearl-handled gun +he had buckled around his waist. + +"I walked down to the depot to keep an eye on the outfit and see that +they didn't locate any land or scare the cow ponies hitched in front +of Murchison's store or act otherwise unseemly. Luke was away after a +gang of cattle thieves down on the Frio, and I always looked after the +law and order when he wasn't there. + +"After dinner this boy comes out of the dining-room while the train +was waiting, and prances up and down the platform ready to shoot all +antelope, lions, or private citizens that might endeavour to molest +or come too near him. He was a good-looking kid; only he was like all +them tenderfoots--he didn't know a law-and-order town when he saw it. + +"By and by along comes Pedro Johnson, the proprietor of the Crystal +Palace _chili-con-carne_ stand in Bildad. Pedro was a man who liked to +amuse himself; so he kind of herd rides this youngster, laughing at +him, tickled to death. I was too far away to hear, but the kid seems +to mention some remarks to Pedro, and Pedro goes up and slaps him +about nine feet away, and laughs harder than ever. And then the boy +gets up quicker than he fell and jerks out his little pearl-handle, +and--bing! bing! bing! Pedro gets it three times in special and +treasured portions of his carcass. I saw the dust fly off his clothes +every time the bullets hit. Sometimes them little thirty-twos cause +worry at close range. + +"The engine bell was ringing, and the train starting off slow. I goes +up to the kid and places him under arrest, and takes away his gun. But +the first thing I knew that _caballard_ of capitalists makes a break +for the train. One of 'em hesitates in front of me for a second, and +kind of smiles and shoves his hand up against my chin, and I sort of +laid down on the platform and took a nap. I never was afraid of guns; +but I don't want any person except a barber to take liberties like +that with my face again. When I woke up, the whole outfit--train, boy, +and all--was gone. I asked about Pedro, and they told me the doctor +said he would recover provided his wounds didn't turn out to be fatal. + +"When Luke got back three days later, and I told him about it, he was +mad all over. + +"'Why'n't you telegraph to San Antone,' he asks, 'and have the bunch +arrested there?' + +"'Oh, well,' says I, 'I always did admire telegraphy; but astronomy +was what I had took up just then.' That capitalist sure knew how to +gesticulate with his hands. + +"Luke got madder and madder. He investigates and finds in the depot +a card one of the men had dropped that gives the address of some +_hombre_ called Scudder in New York City. + +"'Bud,' says Luke, 'I'm going after that bunch. I'm going there and +get the man or boy, as you say he was, and bring him back. I'm sheriff +of Mojada County, and I shall keep law and order in its precincts +while I'm able to draw a gun. And I want you to go with me. No Eastern +Yankee can shoot up a respectable and well-known citizen of Bildad, +'specially with a thirty-two calibre, and escape the law. Pedro +Johnson,' says Luke, 'is one of our most prominent citizens and +business men. I'll appoint Sam Bell acting sheriff with penitentiary +powers while I'm away, and you and me will take the six forty-five +northbound to-morrow evening and follow up this trail.' + +"'I'm your company,' says I. 'I never see this New York, but I'd like +to. But, Luke,' says I, 'don't you have to have a dispensation or a +habeas corpus or something from the state, when you reach out that far +for rich men and malefactors?' + +"'Did I have a requisition,' says Luke, 'when I went over into the +Brazos bottoms and brought back Bill Grimes and two more for holding +up the International? Did me and you have a search warrant or a posse +comitatus when we rounded up them six Mexican cow thieves down in +Hidalgo? It's my business to keep order in Mojada County.' + +"'And it's my business as office deputy,' says I, 'to see that +business is carried on according to law. Between us both we ought to +keep things pretty well cleaned up.' + +"So, the next day, Luke packs a blanket and some collars and his +mileage book in a haversack, and him and me hits the breeze for New +York. It was a powerful long ride. The seats in the cars was too short +for six-footers like us to sleep comfortable on; and the conductor had +to keep us from getting off at every town that had five-story houses +in it. But we got there finally; and we seemed to see right away that +he was right about it. + +"'Luke,' says I, 'as office deputy and from a law standpoint, it don't +look to me like this place is properly and legally in the jurisdiction +of Mojada County, Texas.' + +"'From the standpoint of order,' says he, 'it's amenable to answer +for its sins to the properly appointed authorities from Bildad to +Jerusalem.' + +"'Amen,' says I. 'But let's turn our trick sudden, and ride. I don't +like the looks of this place.' + +"'Think of Pedro Johnson,' says Luke, 'a friend of mine and yours shot +down by one of these gilded abolitionists at his very door!' + +"'It was at the door of the freight depot,' says I. 'But the law will +not be balked at a quibble like that.' + +"We put up at one of them big hotels on Broadway. The next morning I +goes down about two miles of stairsteps to the bottom and hunts for +Luke. It ain't no use. It looks like San Jacinto day in San Antone. +There's a thousand folks milling around in a kind of a roofed-over +plaza with marble pavements and trees growing right out of 'em, and I +see no more chance of finding Luke than if we was hunting each other +in the big pear flat down below Old Fort Ewell. But soon Luke and me +runs together in one of the turns of them marble alleys. + +"'It ain't no use, Bud,' says he. 'I can't find no place to eat at. +I've been looking for restaurant signs and smelling for ham all over +the camp. But I'm used to going hungry when I have to. Now,' says he, +'I'm going out and get a hack and ride down to the address on this +Scudder card. You stay here and try to hustle some grub. But I doubt +if you'll find it. I wish we'd brought along some cornmeal and bacon +and beans. I'll be back when I see this Scudder, if the trail ain't +wiped out.' + +"So I starts foraging for breakfast. For the honour of old Mojada +County I didn't want to seem green to them abolitionists, so every +time I turned a corner in them marble halls I went up to the first +desk or counter I see and looks around for grub. If I didn't see what +I wanted I asked for something else. In about half an hour I had +a dozen cigars, five story magazines, and seven or eight railroad +time-tables in my pockets, and never a smell of coffee or bacon to +point out the trail. + +"Once a lady sitting at a table and playing a game kind of like +pushpin told me to go into a closet that she called Number 3. I went +in and shut the door, and the blamed thing lit itself up. I set down +on a stool before a shelf and waited. Thinks I, 'This is a private +dining-room.' But no waiter never came. When I got to sweating good +and hard, I goes out again. + +"'Did you get what you wanted?' says she. + +"'No, ma'am,' says I. 'Not a bite.' + +"'Then there's no charge,' says she. + +"'Thanky, ma'am,' says I, and I takes up the trail again. + +"By and by I thinks I'll shed etiquette; and I picks up one of them +boys with blue clothes and yellow buttons in front, and he leads me to +what he calls the caffay breakfast room. And the first thing I lays my +eyes on when I go in is that boy that had shot Pedro Johnson. He was +setting all alone at a little table, hitting a egg with a spoon like +he was afraid he'd break it. + +"I takes the chair across the table from him; and he looks insulted +and makes a move like he was going to get up. + +"'Keep still, son,' says I. 'You're apprehended, arrested, and in +charge of the Texas authorities. Go on and hammer that egg some +more if it's the inside of it you want. Now, what did you shoot Mr. +Johnson, of Bildad, for?' + +"And may I ask who you are?' says he. + +"'You may,' says I. 'Go ahead.' + +"'I suppose you're on,' says this kid, without batting his eyes. 'But +what are you eating? Here, waiter!' he calls out, raising his finger. +'Take this gentleman's order. + +"'A beefsteak,' says I, 'and some fried eggs and a can of peaches and +a quart of coffee will about suffice.' + +"We talk awhile about the sundries of life and then he says: + +"'What are you going to do about that shooting? I had a right to shoot +that man,' says he. 'He called me names that I couldn't overlook, and +then he struck me. He carried a gun, too. What else could I do?' + +"'We'll have to take you back to Texas,' says I. + +"'I'd like to go back,' says the boy, with a kind of a grin--'if it +wasn't on an occasion of this kind. It's the life I like. I've always +wanted to ride and shoot and live in the open air ever since I can +remember.' + +"'Who was this gang of stout parties you took this trip with?' I asks. + +"'My stepfather,' says he, 'and some business partners of his in some +Mexican mining and land schemes.' + +"'I saw you shoot Pedro Johnson,' says I, 'and I took that little +popgun away from you that you did it with. And when I did so I noticed +three or four little scars in a row over your right eyebrow. You've +been in rookus before, haven't you?' + +"'I've had these scars ever since I can remember,' says he. 'I don't +know how they came there.' + +"'Was you ever in Texas before?' says I. + +"'Not that I remember of,' says he. 'But I thought I had when we +struck the prairie country. But I guess I hadn't.' + +"'Have you got a mother?' I asks. + +"'She died five years ago,' says he. + +"Skipping over the most of what followed--when Luke came back I turned +the kid over to him. He had seen Scudder and told him what he wanted; +and it seems that Scudder got active with one of these telephones as +soon as he left. For in about an hour afterward there comes to our +hotel some of these city rangers in everyday clothes that they call +detectives, and marches the whole outfit of us to what they call a +magistrate's court. They accuse Luke of attempted kidnapping, and ask +him what he has to say. + +"'This snipe,' says Luke to the judge, 'shot and wilfully punctured +with malice and forethought one of the most respected and prominent +citizens of the town of Bildad, Texas, Your Honor. And in so doing +laid himself liable to the penitence of law and order. And I hereby +make claim and demand restitution of the State of New York City for +the said alleged criminal; and I know he done it.' + +"'Have you the usual and necessary requisition papers from the +governor of your state?' asks the judge. + +"'My usual papers,' says Luke, 'was taken away from me at the hotel by +these gentlemen who represent law and order in your city. They was two +Colt's .45's that I've packed for nine years; and if I don't get 'em +back, there'll be more trouble. You can ask anybody in Mojada County +about Luke Summers. I don't usually need any other kind of papers for +what I do.' + +"I see the judge looks mad, so I steps up and says: + +"'Your Honor, the aforesaid defendant, Mr. Luke Summers, sheriff of +Mojada County, Texas, is as fine a man as ever threw a rope or upheld +the statutes and codicils of the greatest state in the Union. But +he--' + +"The judge hits his table with a wooden hammer and asks who I am. + +"Bud Oakley,' says I. 'Office deputy of the sheriff's office of Mojada +County, Texas. Representing,' says I, 'the Law. Luke Summers,' I +goes on, 'represents Order. And if Your Honor will give me about ten +minutes in private talk, I'll explain the whole thing to you, and show +you the equitable and legal requisition papers which I carry in my +pocket.' + +"The judge kind of half smiles and says he will talk with me in +his private room. In there I put the whole thing up to him in such +language as I had, and when we goes outside, he announces the +verdict that the young man is delivered into the hands of the Texas +authorities; and calls the next case. + +"Skipping over much of what happened on the way back, I'll tell you +how the thing wound up in Bildad. + +"When we got the prisoner in the sheriff's office, I says to Luke: + +"'You, remember that kid of yours--that two-year old that they stole +away from you when the bust-up come?' + +"Luke looks black and angry. He'd never let anybody talk to him about +that business, and he never mentioned it himself. + +"'Toe the mark,' says I. 'Do you remember when he was toddling around +on the porch and fell down on a pair of Mexican spurs and cut four +little holes over his right eye? Look at the prisoner,' says I, 'look +at his nose and the shape of his head and--why, you old fool, don't +you know your own son?--I knew him,' says I, 'when he perforated Mr. +Johnson at the depot.' + +"Luke comes over to me shaking all over. I never saw him lose his +nerve before. + +"'Bud,' says he. 'I've never had that boy out of my mind one day or +one night since he was took away. But I never let on. But can we hold +him?-- Can we make him stay?-- I'll make the best man of him that ever +put his foot in a stirrup. Wait a minute,' says he, all excited and +out of his mind--'I've got some-thing here in my desk--I reckon it'll +hold legal yet--I've looked at it a thousand times--"Cus-to-dy of the +child,"' says Luke--'"Cus-to-dy of the child." We can hold him on +that, can't we? Le'me see if I can find that decree.' + +"Luke begins to tear his desk to pieces. + +"'Hold on,' says I. 'You are Order and I'm Law. You needn't look for +that paper, Luke. It ain't a decree any more. It's requisition papers. +It's on file in that Magistrate's office in New York. I took it along +when we went, because I was office deputy and knew the law.' + +"'I've got him back,' says Luke. 'He's mine again. I never thought--' + +"'Wait a minute,' says I. 'We've got to have law and order. You and me +have got to preserve 'em both in Mojada County according to our oath +and conscience. The kid shot Pedro Johnson, one of Bildad's most +prominent and--' + +"'Oh, hell!' says Luke. 'That don't amount to anything. That fellow +was half Mexican, anyhow.'" + + + + +XXII + +TRANSFORMATION OF MARTIN BURNEY + + +In behalf of Sir Walter's soothing plant let us look into the case of +Martin Burney. + +They were constructing the Speedway along the west bank of the Harlem +River. The grub-boat of Dennis Corrigan, sub-contractor, was moored +to a tree on the bank. Twenty-two men belonging to the little green +island toiled there at the sinew-cracking labour. One among them, who +wrought in the kitchen of the grub-boat was of the race of the Goths. +Over them all stood the exorbitant Corrigan, harrying them like the +captain of a galley crew. He paid them so little that most of the +gang, work as they might, earned little more than food and tobacco; +many of them were in debt to him. Corrigan boarded them all in the +grub-boat, and gave them good grub, for he got it back in work. + +Martin Burney was furthest behind of all. He was a little man, all +muscles and hands and feet, with a gray-red, stubbly beard. He was too +light for the work, which would have glutted the capacity of a steam +shovel. + +The work was hard. Besides that, the banks of the river were humming +with mosquitoes. As a child in a dark room fixes his regard on the +pale light of a comforting window, these toilers watched the sun that +brought around the one hour of the day that tasted less bitter. After +the sundown supper they would huddle together on the river bank, and +send the mosquitoes whining and eddying back from the malignant puffs +of twenty-three reeking pipes. Thus socially banded against the foe, +they wrenched out of the hour a few well-smoked drops from the cup of +joy. + +Each week Burney grew deeper in debt. Corrigan kept a small stock of +goods on the boat, which he sold to the men at prices that brought +him no loss. Burney was a good customer at the tobacco counter. One +sack when he went to work in the morning and one when he came in at +night, so much was his account swelled daily. Burney was something +of a smoker. Yet it was not true that he ate his meals with a pipe +in his mouth, which had been said of him. The little man was not +discontented. He had plenty to eat, plenty of tobacco, and a tyrant +to curse; so why should not he, an Irishman, be well satisfied? + +One morning as he was starting with the others for work he stopped at +the pine counter for his usual sack of tobacco. + +"There's no more for ye," said Corrigan. "Your account's closed. Ye +are a losing investment. No, not even tobaccy, my son. No more tobaccy +on account. If ye want to work on and eat, do so, but the smoke of ye +has all ascended. 'Tis my advice that ye hunt a new job." + +"I have no tobaccy to smoke in my pipe this day, Mr. Corrigan," said +Burney, not quite understanding that such a thing could happen to him. + +"Earn it," said Corrigan, "and then buy it." + +Burney stayed on. He knew of no other job. At first he did not realize +that tobacco had got to be his father and mother, his confessor and +sweetheart, and wife and child. + +For three days he managed to fill his pipe from the other men's sacks, +and then they shut him off, one and all. They told him, rough but +friendly, that of all things in the world tobacco must be quickest +forthcoming to a fellow-man desiring it, but that beyond the immediate +temporary need requisition upon the store of a comrade is pressed with +great danger to friendship. + +Then the blackness of the pit arose and filled the heart of Burney. +Sucking the corpse of his deceased dudheen, he staggered through his +duties with his barrowful of stones and dirt, feeling for the first +time that the curse of Adam was upon him. Other men bereft of a +pleasure might have recourse to other delights, but Burney had only +two comforts in life. One was his pipe, the other was an ecstatic hope +that there would be no Speedways to build on the other side of Jordan. + +At meal times he would let the other men go first into the grub-boat, +and then he would go down on his hands and knees, grovelling fiercely +upon the ground where they had been sitting, trying to find some stray +crumbs of tobacco. Once he sneaked down the river bank and filled his +pipe with dead willow leaves. At the first whiff of the smoke he spat +in the direction of the boat and put the finest curse he knew on +Corrigan--one that began with the first Corrigans born on earth and +ended with the Corrigans that shall hear the trumpet of Gabriel blow. +He began to hate Corrigan with all his shaking nerves and soul. Even +murder occurred to him in a vague sort of way. Five days he went +without the taste of tobacco--he who had smoked all day and thought +the night misspent in which he had not awakened for a pipeful or two +under the bedclothes. + +One day a man stopped at the boat to say that there was work to be had +in the Bronx Park, where a large number of labourers were required in +making some improvements. + +After dinner Burney walked thirty yards down the river bank away from +the maddening smell of the others' pipes. He sat down upon a stone. He +was thinking he would set out for the Bronx. At least he could earn +tobacco there. What if the books did say he owed Corrigan? Any man's +work was worth his keep. But then he hated to go without getting even +with the hard-hearted screw who had put his pipe out. Was there any +way to do it? + +Softly stepping among the clods came Tony, he of the race of Goths, +who worked in the kitchen. He grinned at Burney's elbow, and that +unhappy man, full of race animosity and holding urbanity in contempt, +growled at him: "What d'ye want, ye--Dago?" + +Tony also contained a grievance--and a plot. He, too, was a Corrigan +hater, and had been primed to see it in others. + +"How you like-a Mr. Corrigan?" he asked. "You think-a him a nice-a +man?" + +"To hell with 'm," he said. "May his liver turn to water, and the +bones of him crack in the cold of his heart. May dog fennel grow upon +his ancestors' graves, and the grandsons of his children be born +without eyes. May whiskey turn to clabber in his mouth, and every time +he sneezes may he blister the soles of his feet. And the smoke of his +pipe--may it make his eyes water, and the drops fall on the grass that +his cows eat and poison the butter that he spreads on his bread." + +Though Tony remained a stranger to the beauties of this imagery, he +gathered from it the conviction that it was sufficiently anti-Corrigan +in its tendency. So, with the confidence of a fellow-conspirator, he +sat by Burney upon the stone and unfolded his plot. + +It was very simple in design. Every day after dinner it was Corrigan's +habit to sleep for an hour in his bunk. At such times it was the duty +of the cook and his helper, Tony, to leave the boat so that no noise +might disturb the autocrat. The cook always spent this hour in walking +exercise. Tony's plan was this: After Corrigan should be asleep he +(Tony) and Burney would cut the mooring ropes that held the boat +to the shore. Tony lacked the nerve to do the deed alone. Then the +awkward boat would swing out into a swift current and surely overturn +against a rock there was below. + +"Come on and do it," said Burney. "If the back of ye aches from the +lick he gave ye as the pit of me stomach does for the taste of a bit +of smoke, we can't cut the ropes too quick." + +"All a-right," said Tony. "But better wait 'bout-a ten minute more. +Give-a Corrigan plenty time get good-a sleep." + +They waited, sitting upon the stone. The rest of the men were at work +out of sight around a bend in the road. Everything would have gone +well--except, perhaps, with Corrigan, had not Tony been moved to +decorate the plot with its conventional accompaniment. He was of +dramatic blood, and perhaps he intuitively divined the appendage to +villainous machinations as prescribed by the stage. He pulled from his +shirt bosom a long, black, beautiful, venomous cigar, and handed it to +Burney. + +"You like-a smoke while we wait?" he asked. + +Burney clutched it and snapped off the end as a terrier bites at a +rat. He laid it to his lips like a long-lost sweetheart. When the +smoke began to draw he gave a long, deep sigh, and the bristles of his +gray-red moustache curled down over the cigar like the talons of an +eagle. Slowly the red faded from the whites of his eyes. He fixed his +gaze dreamily upon the hills across the river. The minutes came and +went. + +"'Bout time to go now," said Tony. "That damn-a Corrigan he be in the +reever very quick." + +Burney started out of his trance with a grunt. He turned his head and +gazed with a surprised and pained severity at his accomplice. He took +the cigar partly from his mouth, but sucked it back again immediately, +chewed it lovingly once or twice, and spoke, in virulent puffs, from +the corner of his mouth: + +"What is it, ye yaller haythen? Would ye lay contrivances against the +enlightened races of the earth, ye instigator of illegal crimes? Would +ye seek to persuade Martin Burney into the dirty tricks of an indecent +Dago? Would ye be for murderin' your benefactor, the good man that +gives ye food and work? Take that, ye punkin-coloured assassin!" + +The torrent of Burney's indignation carried with it bodily assault. +The toe of his shoe sent the would-be cutter of ropes tumbling from +his seat. + +Tony arose and fled. His vendetta he again relegated to the files of +things that might have been. Beyond the boat he fled and away-away; he +was afraid to remain. + +Burney, with expanded chest, watched his late co-plotter disappear. +Then he, too, departed, setting his face in the direction of the +Bronx. + +In his wake was a rank and pernicious trail of noisome smoke that +brought peace to his heart and drove the birds from the roadside into +the deepest thickets. + + + + +XXIII + +THE CALIPH AND THE CAD + + +Surely there is no pastime more diverting than that of mingling, +incognito, with persons of wealth and station. Where else but in those +circles can one see life in its primitive, crude state unhampered by +the conventions that bind the dwellers in a lower sphere? + +There was a certain Caliph of Bagdad who was accustomed to go down +among the poor and lowly for the solace obtained from the relation +of their tales and histories. Is it not strange that the humble and +poverty-stricken have not availed themselves of the pleasure they +might glean by donning diamonds and silks and playing Caliph among +the haunts of the upper world? + +There was one who saw the possibilities of thus turning the tables on +Haroun al Raschid. His name was Corny Brannigan, and he was a truck +driver for a Canal Street importing firm. And if you read further +you will learn how he turned upper Broadway into Bagdad and learned +something about himself that he did not know before. + +Many people would have called Corny a snob--preferably by means of +a telephone. His chief interest in life, his chosen amusement, and +his sole diversion after working hours, was to place himself in +juxtaposition--since he could not hope to mingle--with people of +fashion and means. + +Every evening after Corny had put up his team and dined at a +lunch-counter that made immediateness a specialty, he would clothe +himself in evening raiment as correct as any you will see in the palm +rooms. Then he would betake himself to that ravishing, radiant roadway +devoted to Thespis, Thais, and Bacchus. + +For a time he would stroll about the lobbies of the best hotels, his +soul steeped in blissful content. Beautiful women, cooing like doves, +but feathered like birds of Paradise, flicked him with their robes as +they passed. Courtly gentlemen attended them, gallant and assiduous. +And Corny's heart within him swelled like Sir Lancelot's, for the +mirror spoke to him as he passed and said: "Corny, lad, there's not +a guy among 'em that looks a bit the sweller than yerself. And you +drivin' of a truck and them swearin' off their taxes and playin' the +red in art galleries with the best in the land!" + +And the mirrors spake the truth. Mr. Corny Brannigan had acquired the +outward polish, if nothing more. Long and keen observation of polite +society had gained for him its manner, its genteel air, and--most +difficult of acquirement--its repose and ease. + +Now and then in the hotels Corny had managed conversation and +temporary acquaintance with substantial, if not distinguished, guests. +With many of these he had exchanged cards, and the ones he received he +carefully treasured for his own use later. Leaving the hotel lobbies, +Corny would stroll leisurely about, lingering at the theatre entrance, +dropping into the fashionable restaurants as if seeking some friend. +He rarely patronized any of these places; he was no bee come to suck +honey, but a butterfly flashing his wings among the flowers whose +calyces held no sweets for him. His wages were not large enough to +furnish him with more than the outside garb of the gentleman. To have +been one of the beings he so cunningly imitated, Corny Brannigan would +have given his right hand. + +One night Corny had an adventure. After absorbing the delights of an +hour's lounging in the principal hotels along Broadway, he passed up +into the stronghold of Thespis. Cab drivers hailed him as a likely +fare, to his prideful content. Languishing eyes were turned upon him +as a hopeful source of lobsters and the delectable, ascendant globules +of effervescence. These overtures and unconscious compliments Corny +swallowed as manna, and hoped Bill, the off horse, would be less lame +in the left forefoot in the morning. + +Beneath a cluster of milky globes of electric light Corny paused to +admire the sheen of his low-cut patent leather shoes. The building +occupying the angle was a pretentious _cafe_. Out of this came a +couple, a lady in a white, cobwebby evening gown, with a lace wrap +like a wreath of mist thrown over it, and a man, tall, faultless, +assured--too assured. They moved to the edge of the sidewalk and +halted. Corny's eye, ever alert for "pointers" in "swell" behaviour, +took them in with a sidelong glance. + +"The carriage is not here," said the lady. "You ordered it to wait?" + +"I ordered it for nine-thirty," said the man. "It should be here now." + +A familiar note in the lady's voice drew a more especial attention +from Corny. It was pitched in a key well known to him. The soft +electric shone upon her face. Sisters of sorrow have no quarters fixed +for them. In the index to the book of breaking hearts you will find +that Broadway follows very soon after the Bowery. This lady's face was +sad, and her voice was attuned with it. They waited, as if for the +carriage. Corny waited too, for it was out of doors, and he was never +tired of accumulating and profiting by knowledge of gentlemanly +conduct. + +"Jack," said the lady, "don't be angry. I've done everything I could +to please you this evening. Why do you act so?" + +"Oh, you're an angel," said the man. "Depend upon woman to throw the +blame upon a man." + +"I'm not blaming you. I'm only trying to make you happy." + +"You go about it in a very peculiar way." + +"You have been cross with me all the evening without any cause." + +"Oh, there isn't any cause except--you make me tired." + +Corny took out his card case and looked over his collection. He +selected one that read: "Mr. R. Lionel Whyte-Melville, Bloomsbury +Square, London." This card he had inveigled from a tourist at the King +Edward Hotel. Corny stepped up to the man and presented it with a +correctly formal air. + +"May I ask why I am selected for the honour?" asked the lady's escort. + +Now, Mr. Corny Brannigan had a very wise habit of saying little +during his imitations of the Caliph of Bagdad. The advice of Lord +Chesterfield: "Wear a black coat and hold your tongue," he believed in +without having heard. But now speech was demanded and required of him. + +"No gent," said Corny, "would talk to a lady like you done. Fie upon +you, Willie! Even if she happens to be your wife you ought to have +more respect for your clothes than to chin her back that way. Maybe it +ain't my butt-in, but it goes, anyhow--you strike me as bein' a whole +lot to the wrong." + +The lady's escort indulged in more elegantly expressed but fetching +repartee. Corny, eschewing his truck driver's vocabulary, retorted as +nearly as he could in polite phrases. Then diplomatic relations were +severed; there was a brief but lively set-to with other than oral +weapons, from which Corny came forth easily victor. + +A carriage dashed up, driven by a tardy and solicitous coachman. + +"Will you kindly open the door for me?" asked the lady. Corny assisted +her to enter, and took off his hat. The escort was beginning to +scramble up from the sidewalk. + +"I beg your pardon, ma'am," said Corny, "if he's your man." + +"He's no man of mine," said the lady. "Perhaps he--but there's no +chance of his being now. Drive home, Michael. If you care to take +this--with my thanks." + +Three red roses were thrust out through the carriage window into +Corny's hand. He took them, and the hand for an instant; and then the +carriage sped away. + +Corny gathered his foe's hat and began to brush the dust from his +clothes. + +"Come along," said Corny, taking the other man by the arm. + +His late opponent was yet a little dazed by the hard knocks he had +received. Corny led him carefully into a saloon three doors away. + +"The drinks for us," said Corny, "me and my friend." + +"You're a queer feller," said the lady's late escort--"lick a man and +then want to set 'em up." + +"You're my best friend," said Corny exultantly. "You don't understand? +Well, listen. You just put me wise to somethin'. I been playin' gent a +long time, thinkin' it was just the glad rags I had and nothin' else. +Say--you're a swell, ain't you? Well, you trot in that class, I guess. +I don't; but I found out one thing--I'm a gentleman, by--and I know it +now. What'll you have to drink?" + + + + +XXIV + +THE DIAMOND OF KALI + + +The original news item concerning the diamond of the goddess Kali was +handed in to the city editor. He smiled and held it for a moment above +the wastebasket. Then he laid it back on his desk and said: "Try the +Sunday people; they might work something out of it." + +The Sunday editor glanced the item over and said: "H'm!" Afterward he +sent for a reporter and expanded his comment. + +"You might see General Ludlow," he said, "and make a story out of this +if you can. Diamond stories are a drug; but this one is big enough +to be found by a scrubwoman wrapped up in a piece of newspaper and +tucked under the corner of the hall linoleum. Find out first if +the General has a daughter who intends to go on the stage. If not, +you can go ahead with the story. Run cuts of the Kohinoor and J. P. +Morgan's collection, and work in pictures of the Kimberley mines and +Barney Barnato. Fill in with a tabulated comparison of the values of +diamonds, radium, and veal cutlets since the meat strike; and let it +run to a half page." + +On the following day the reporter turned in his story. The Sunday +editor let his eye sprint along its lines. "H'm!" he said again. This +time the copy went into the waste-basket with scarcely a flutter. + +The reporter stiffened a little around the lips; but he was whistling +softly and contentedly between his teeth when I went over to talk with +him about it an hour later. + +"I don't blame the 'old man'," said he, magnanimously, "for cutting it +out. It did sound like funny business; but it happened exactly as I +wrote it. Say, why don't you fish that story out of the w.-b. and use +it? Seems to me it's as good as the tommyrot you write." + +I accepted the tip, and if you read further you will learn the facts +about the diamond of the goddess Kali as vouched for by one of the +most reliable reporters on the staff. + +Gen. Marcellus B. Ludlow lives in one of those decaying but +venerated old red-brick mansions in the West Twenties. The General +is a member of an old New York family that does not advertise. He is +a globe-trotter by birth, a gentleman by predilection, a millionaire +by the mercy of Heaven, and a connoisseur of precious stones by +occupation. + +The reporter was admitted promptly when he made himself known at the +General's residence at about eight thirty on the evening that he +received the assignment. In the magnificent library he was greeted by +the distinguished traveller and connoisseur, a tall, erect gentleman +in the early fifties, with a nearly white moustache, and a bearing so +soldierly that one perceived in him scarcely a trace of the National +Guardsman. His weather-beaten countenance lit up with a charming smile +of interest when the reporter made known his errand. + +"Ah, you have heard of my latest find. I shall be glad to show you +what I conceive to be one of the six most valuable blue diamonds in +existence." + +The General opened a small safe in a corner of the library and brought +forth a plush-covered box. Opening this, he exposed to the reporter's +bewildered gaze a huge and brilliant diamond--nearly as large as a +hailstone. + +"This stone," said the General, "is something more than a mere jewel. +It once formed the central eye of the three-eyed goddess Kali, who is +worshipped by one of the fiercest and most fanatical tribes of India. +If you will arrange yourself comfortably I will give you a brief +history of it for your paper." + +General Ludlow brought a decanter of whiskey and glasses from a +cabinet, and set a comfortable armchair for the lucky scribe. + +"The Phansigars, or Thugs, of India," began the General, "are the +most dangerous and dreaded of the tribes of North India. They are +extremists in religion, and worship the horrid goddess Kali in the +form of images. Their rites are interesting and bloody. The robbing +and murdering of travellers are taught as a worthy and obligatory +deed by their strange religious code. Their worship of the three-eyed +goddess Kali is conducted so secretly that no traveller has ever +heretofore had the honour of witnessing the ceremonies. That +distinction was reserved for myself. + +"While at Sakaranpur, between Delhi and Khelat, I used to explore the +jungle in every direction in the hope of learning something new about +these mysterious Phansigars. + +"One evening at twilight I was making my way through a teakwood +forest, when I came upon a deep circular depression in an open space, +in the centre of which was a rude stone temple. I was sure that this +was one of the temples of the Thugs, so I concealed myself in the +undergrowth to watch. + +"When the moon rose the depression in the clearing was suddenly filled +with hundreds of shadowy, swiftly gliding forms. Then a door opened in +the temple, exposing a brightly illuminated image of the goddess Kali, +before which a white-robed priest began a barbarous incantation, while +the tribe of worshippers prostrated themselves upon the earth. + +"But what interested me most was the central eye of the huge wooden +idol. I could see by its flashing brilliancy that it was an immense +diamond of the purest water. + +"After the rites were concluded the Thugs slipped away into the forest +as silently as they had come. The priest stood for a few minutes in +the door of the temple enjoying the cool of the night before closing +his rather warm quarters. Suddenly a dark, lithe shadow slipped down +into the hollow, leaped upon the priest; and struck him down with a +glittering knife. Then the murderer sprang at the image of the goddess +like a cat and pried out the glowing central eye of Kali with his +weapon. Straight toward me he ran with his royal prize. When he was +within two paces I rose to my feet and struck him with all my force +between the eyes. He rolled over senseless and the magnificent jewel +fell from his hand. That is the splendid blue diamond you have just +seen--a stone worthy of a monarch's crown." + +"That's a corking story," said the reporter. "That decanter is exactly +like the one that John W. Gates always sets out during an interview." + +"Pardon me," said General Ludlow, "for forgetting hospitality in the +excitement of my narrative. Help yourself." + +"Here's looking at you," said the reporter. + +"What I am afraid of now," said the General, lowering his voice, "is +that I may be robbed of the diamond. The jewel that formed an eye of +their goddess is their most sacred symbol. Somehow the tribe suspected +me of having it; and members of the band have followed me half around +the earth. They are the most cunning and cruel fanatics in the +world, and their religious vows would compel them to assassinate the +unbeliever who has desecrated their sacred treasure. + +"Once in Lucknow three of their agents, disguised as servants in a +hotel, endeavoured to strangle me with a twisted cloth. Again, in +London, two Thugs, made up as street musicians, climbed into my window +at night and attacked me. They have even tracked me to this country. +My life is never safe. A month ago, while I was at a hotel in the +Berkshires, three of them sprang upon me from the roadside weeds. I +saved myself then by my knowledge of their customs." + +"How was that, General?" asked the reporter. + +"There was a cow grazing near by," said General Ludlow, "a gentle +Jersey cow. I ran to her side and stood. The three Thugs ceased their +attack, knelt and struck the ground thrice with their foreheads. Then, +after many respectful salaams, they departed." + +"Afraid the cow would hook?" asked the reporter. + +"No; the cow is a sacred animal to the Phansigars. Next to their +goddess they worship the cow. They have never been known to commit any +deed of violence in the presence of the animal they reverence." + +"It's a mighty interesting story," said the reporter. "If you don't +mind I'll take another drink, and then a few notes." + +"I will join you," said General Ludlow, with a courteous wave of his +hand. + +"If I were you," advised the reporter, "I'd take that sparkler to +Texas. Get on a cow ranch there, and the Pharisees--" + +"Phansigars," corrected the General. + +"Oh, yes; the fancy guys would run up against a long horn every time +they made a break." + +General Ludlow closed the diamond case and thrust it into his bosom. + +"The spies of the tribe have found me out in New York," he said, +straightening his tall figure. "I'm familiar with the East Indian cast +of countenance, and I know that my every movement is watched. They +will undoubtedly attempt to rob and murder me here." + +"Here?" exclaimed the reporter, seizing the decanter and pouring out a +liberal amount of its contents. + +"At any moment," said the General. "But as a soldier and a connoisseur +I shall sell my life and my diamond as dearly as I can." + +At this point of the reporter's story there is a certain vagueness, +but it can be gathered that there was a loud crashing noise at the +rear of the house they were in. General Ludlow buttoned his coat +closely and sprang for the door. But the reporter clutched him firmly +with one hand, while he held the decanter with the other. + +"Tell me before we fly," he urged, in a voice thick with some inward +turmoil, "do any of your daughters contemplate going on the stage?" + +"I have no daughters--fly for your life--the Phansigars are upon us!" +cried the General. + +The two men dashed out of the front door of the house. + +The hour was late. As their feet struck the side-walk strange men of +dark and forbidding appearance seemed to rise up out of the earth and +encompass them. One with Asiatic features pressed close to the General +and droned in a terrible voice: + +"Buy cast clo'!" + +Another, dark-whiskered and sinister, sped lithely to his side and +began in a whining voice: + +"Say, mister, have yer got a dime fer a poor feller what--" + +They hurried on, but only into the arms of a black-eyed, dusky-browed +being, who held out his hat under their noses, while a confederate of +Oriental hue turned the handle of a street organ near by. + +Twenty steps farther on General Ludlow and the reporter found +themselves in the midst of half a dozen villainous-looking men with +high-turned coat collars and faces bristling with unshaven beards. + +"Run for it!" hissed the General. "They have discovered the possessor +of the diamond of the goddess Kali." + +The two men took to their heels. The avengers of the goddess pursued. + +"Oh, Lordy!" groaned the reporter, "there isn't a cow this side of +Brooklyn. We're lost!" + +When near the corner they both fell over an iron object that rose from +the sidewalk close to the gutter. Clinging to it desperately, they +awaited their fate. + +"If I only had a cow!" moaned the reporter--"or another nip from that +decanter, General!" + +As soon as the pursuers observed where their victims had found refuge +they suddenly fell back and retreated to a considerable distance. + +"They are waiting for reinforcements in order to attack us," said +General Ludlow. + +But the reporter emitted a ringing laugh, and hurled his hat +triumphantly into the air. + +"Guess again," he shouted, and leaned heavily upon the iron object. +"Your old fancy guys or thugs, whatever you call 'em, are up to date. +Dear General, this is a pump we've stranded upon--same as a cow in New +York (hic!) see? Thas'h why the 'nfuriated smoked guys don't attack +us--see? Sacred an'mal, the pump in N' York, my dear General!" + +But further down in the shadows of Twenty-eighth Street the marauders +were holding a parley. + +"Come on, Reddy," said one. "Let's go frisk the old 'un. He's been +showin' a sparkler as big as a hen egg all around Eighth Avenue for +two weeks past." + +"Not on your silhouette," decided Reddy. "You see 'em rallyin' round +The Pump? They're friends of Bill's. Bill won't stand for nothin' of +this kind in his district since he got that bid to Esopus." + +This exhausts the facts concerning the Kali diamond. But it is deemed +not inconsequent to close with the following brief (paid) item that +appeared two days later in a morning paper. + +"It is rumored that a niece of Gen. Marcellus B. Ludlow, of New York +City, will appear on the stage next season. + +"Her diamonds are said to be extremely valuable and of much historic +interest." + + + + +XXV + +THE DAY WE CELEBRATE + + +"In the tropics" ("Hop-along" Bibb, the bird fancier, was saying to +me) "the seasons, months, fortnights, week-ends, holidays, dog-days, +Sundays, and yesterdays get so jumbled together in the shuffle that +you never know when a year has gone by until you're in the middle of +the next one." + +"Hop-along" Bibb kept his bird store on lower Fourth Avenue. He was an +ex-seaman and beachcomber who made regular voyages to southern ports +and imported personally conducted invoices of talking parrots and +dialectic paroquets. He had a stiff knee, neck, and nerve. I had gone +to him to buy a parrot to present, at Christmas, to my Aunt Joanna. + +"This one," said I, disregarding his homily on the subdivisions of +time--"this one that seems all red, white, and blue--to what genus of +beasts does he belong? He appeals at once to my patriotism and to my +love of discord in colour schemes." + +"That's a cockatoo from Ecuador," said Bibb. "All he has been taught +to say is 'Merry Christmas.' A seasonable bird. He's only seven +dollars; and I'll bet many a human has stuck you for more money by +making the same speech to you." + +And then Bibb laughed suddenly and loudly. + +"That bird," he explained, "reminds me. He's got his dates mixed. +He ought to be saying '_E pluribus unum_,' to match his feathers, +instead of trying to work the Santa Claus graft. It reminds me of the +time me and Liverpool Sam got our ideas of things tangled up on the +coast of Costa Rica on account of the weather and other phenomena to +be met with in the tropics. + +"We were, as it were, stranded on that section of the Spanish main +with no money to speak of and no friends that should be talked about +either. We had stoked and second-cooked ourselves down there on a +fruit steamer from New Orleans to try our luck, which was discharged, +after we got there, for lack of evidence. There was no work suitable +to our instincts; so me and Liverpool began to subsist on the red rum +of the country and such fruit as we could reap where we had not sown. +It was an alluvial town, called Soledad, where there was no harbour +or future or recourse. Between steamers the town slept and drank rum. +It only woke up when there were bananas to ship. It was like a man +sleeping through dinner until the dessert. + +"When me and Liverpool got so low down that the American consul +wouldn't speak to us we knew we'd struck bed rock. + +"We boarded with a snuff-brown lady named Chica, who kept a rum-shop +and a ladies' and gents' restaurant in a street called the _calle +de los_ Forty-seven Inconsolable Saints. When our credit played +out there, Liverpool, whose stomach overshadowed his sensations of +_noblesse oblige_, married Chica. This kept us in rice and fried +plantain for a month; and then Chica pounded Liverpool one morning +sadly and earnestly for fifteen minutes with a casserole handed down +from the stone age, and we knew that we had out-welcomed our liver. +That night we signed an engagement with Don Jaime McSpinosa, a hybrid +banana fancier of the place, to work on his fruit preserves nine miles +out of town. We had to do it or be reduced to sea water and broken +doses of feed and slumber. + +"Now, speaking of Liverpool Sam, I don't malign or inexculpate him +to you any more than I would to his face. But in my opinion, when an +Englishman gets as low as he can he's got to dodge so that the dregs +of other nations don't drop ballast on him out of their balloons. And +if he's a Liverpool Englishman, why, fire-damp is what he's got to +look out for. Being a natural American, that's my personal view. But +Liverpool and me had much in common. We were without decorous clothes +or ways and means of existence; and, as the saying goes, misery +certainly does enjoy the society of accomplices. + +"Our job on old McSpinosa's plantation was chopping down banana stalks +and loading the bunches of fruit on the backs of horses. Then a native +dressed up in an alligator hide belt, a machete, and a pair of AA +sheeting pajamas, drives 'em over to the coast and piles 'em up on the +beach. + +"You ever been in a banana grove? It's as solemn as a rathskeller at +seven A. M. It's like being lost behind the scenes at one of these +mushroom musical shows. You can't see the sky for the foliage above +you; and the ground is knee deep in rotten leaves; and it's so still +that you can hear the stalks growing again after you chop 'em down. + +"At night me and Liverpool herded in a lot of grass huts on the edge +of a lagoon with the red, yellow, and black employes of Don Jaime. +There we lay fighting mosquitoes and listening to the monkeys +squalling and the alligators grunting and splashing in the lagoon +until daylight with only snatches of sleep between times. + +"We soon lost all idea of what time of the year it was. It's just +about eighty degrees there in December and June and on Fridays and at +midnight and election day and any other old time. Sometimes it rains +more than at others, and that's all the difference you notice. A +man is liable to live along there without noticing any fugiting of +tempus until some day the undertaker calls in for him just when he's +beginning to think about cutting out the gang and saving up a little +to invest in real estate. + +"I don't know how long we worked for Don Jaime; but it was through two +or three rainy spells, eight or ten hair cuts, and the life of three +pairs of sail-cloth trousers. All the money we earned went for rum and +tobacco; but we ate, and that was something. + +"All of a sudden one day me and Liverpool find the trade of committing +surgical operations on banana stalks turning to aloes and quinine in +our mouths. It's a seizure that often comes upon white men in Latin +and geographical countries. We wanted to be addressed again in +language and see the smoke of a steamer and read the real estate +transfers and gents' outfitting ads in an old newspaper. Even Soledad +seemed like a centre of civilization to us, so that evening we put +our thumbs on our nose at Don Jaime's fruit stand and shook his grass +burrs off our feet. + +"It was only twelve miles to Soledad, but it took me and Liverpool two +days to get there. It was banana grove nearly all the way; and we got +twisted time and again. It was like paging the palm room of a New York +hotel for a man named Smith. + +"When we saw the houses of Soledad between the trees all my +disinclination toward this Liverpool Sam rose up in me. I stood him +while we were two white men against the banana brindles; but now, when +there were prospects of my exchanging even cuss words with an American +citizen, I put him back in his proper place. And he was a sight, too, +with his rum-painted nose and his red whiskers and elephant feet with +leather sandals strapped to them. I suppose I looked about the same. + +"'It looks to me,' says I, 'like Great Britain ought to be made to +keep such gin-swilling, scurvy, unbecoming mud larks as you at home +instead of sending 'em over here to degrade and taint foreign lands. +We kicked you out of America once and we ought to put on rubber boots +and do it again.' + +"'Oh, you go to 'ell,' says Liverpool, which was about all the +repartee he ever had. + +"Well, Soledad, looked fine to me after Don Jaime 's plantation. +Liverpool and me walked into it side by side, from force of habit, +past the calabosa and the Hotel Grande, down across the plaza toward +Chica's hut, where we hoped that Liverpool, being a husband of hers, +might work his luck for a meal. + +"As we passed the two-story little frame house occupied by the +American Club, we noticed that the balcony had been decorated all +around with wreaths of evergreens and flowers, and the flag was +flying from the pole on the roof. Stanzey, the consul, and Arkright, +a gold-mine owner, were smoking on the balcony. Me and Liverpool +waved our dirty hands toward 'em and smiled real society smiles; but +they turned their backs to us and went on talking. And we had played +whist once with the two of 'em up to the time when Liverpool held all +thirteen trumps for four hands in succession. It was some holiday, we +knew; but we didn't know the day nor the year. + +"A little further along we saw a reverend man named Pendergast, who +had come to Soledad to build a church, standing under a cocoanut palm +with his little black alpaca coat and green umbrella. + +"'Boys, boys!' says he, through his blue spectacles, 'is it as bad as +this? Are you so far reduced?' + +"'We're reduced,' says I, 'to very vulgar fractions.' + +"'It is indeed sad,' says Pendergast, 'to see my countrymen in such +circumstances.' + +"'Cut 'arf of that out, old party,' says Liverpool. 'Cawn't you tell +a member of the British upper classes when you see one?' + +"'Shut up,' I told Liverpool. 'You're on foreign soil now, or that +portion of it that's not on you.' + +"'And on this day, too!' goes on Pendergast, grievous--'on this most +glorious day of the year when we should all be celebrating the dawn of +Christian civilization and the downfall of the wicked.' + +"'I did notice bunting and bouquets decorating the town, reverend,' +says I, 'but I didn't know what it was for. We've been so long out of +touch with calendars that we didn't know whether it was summer time or +Saturday afternoon.' + +"'Here is two dollars,' says Pendergast digging up two Chili silver +wheels and handing 'em to me. 'Go, my men, and observe the rest of the +day in a befitting manner.' + +"Me and Liverpool thanked him kindly, and walked away. + +"'Shall we eat?' I asks. + +"'Oh, 'ell!' says Liverpool. 'What's money for?' + +"'Very well, then,' I says, 'since you insist upon it, we'll drink.' + +"So we pull up in a rum shop and get a quart of it and go down on the +beach under a cocoanut tree and celebrate. + +"Not having eaten anything but oranges in two days, the rum has +immediate effect; and once more I conjure up great repugnance toward +the British nation. + +"'Stand up here,' I says to Liverpool, 'you scum of a despot limited +monarchy, and have another dose of Bunker Hill. That good man, Mr. +Pendergast,' says I, 'said we were to observe the day in a befitting +manner, and I'm not going to see his money misapplied.' + +"'Oh, you go to 'ell!' says Liverpool, and I started in with a fine +left-hander on his right eye. + +"Liverpool had been a fighter once, but dissipation and bad company +had taken the nerve out of him. In ten minutes I had him lying on the +sand waving the white flag. + +"'Get up,' says I, kicking him in the ribs, 'and come along with me.' + +"Liverpool got up and followed behind me because it was his habit, +wiping the red off his face and nose. I led him to Reverend +Pendergast's shack and called him out. + +"'Look at this, sir,' says I--'look at this thing that was once a +proud Britisher. You gave us two dollars and told us to celebrate the +day. The star-spangled banner still waves. Hurrah for the stars and +eagles!' + +"'Dear me,' says Pendergast, holding up his hands. 'Fighting on this +day of all days! On Christmas day, when peace on--' + +"'Christmas, hell!' says I. 'I thought it was the Fourth of July.'" + + + +"Merry Christmas!" said the red, white, and blue cockatoo. + +"Take him for six dollars," said Hop-along Bibb. "He's got his dates +and colours mixed." + + + +***END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SIXES AND SEVENS*** + + +******* This file should be named 2851.txt or 2851.zip ******* + + +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: +https://www.gutenberg.org/dirs/2/8/5/2851 + + + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. Special rules, +set forth in the General Terms of Use part of this license, apply to +copying and distributing Project Gutenberg-tm electronic works to +protect the PROJECT GUTENBERG-tm concept and trademark. Project +Gutenberg is a registered trademark, and may not be used if you +charge for the eBooks, unless you receive specific permission. 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