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diff --git a/old/rllst10.txt b/old/rllst10.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..c180ad0 --- /dev/null +++ b/old/rllst10.txt @@ -0,0 +1,9199 @@ +The Project Gutenberg Etext of Rolling Stones, by O. Henry +#13 in our series by O. Henry + +Copyright laws are changing all over the world, be sure to check +the laws for your country before redistributing these files!!! + +Please take a look at the important information in this header. +We encourage you to keep this file on your own disk, keeping an +electronic path open for the next readers. + +Please do not remove this. + +This should be the first thing seen when anyone opens the book. +Do not change or edit it without written permission. 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The aesthetic appetite-- +So long enhungered that the "inards" fight +And growl gutwise--its pangs thou dost abate +And all so amiably alleviate, +Joy pats his belly as a hobo might +Who haply hath obtained a cherry pie +With no burnt crust at all, nor any seeds; +Nothin' but crisp crust, and the thickness fit. +And squashin'-juicy, an' jes' mighty nigh +Too dratted, drippin'-sweet for human needs, +But fer the sosh of milk that goes with it. + +Written in the character of "Sherrard +Plummer" by James Whitcomb Riley + +By permission of James Whitcomb Riley and +his publishers, The Bobbs-Merrill Company + + + +CONTENTS + +INTRODUCTION +THE DREAM +RULER OF MEN +THE ATAVISM OF JOHN TOM LITTLE BEAR +HELPING THE OTHER FELLOW +THE MARIONETTES +THE MARQUIS AND MISS SALLY +A FOG IN SANTONE +THE FRIENDLY CALL +A DINNER AT -------* +SOUND AND FURY +TICTOCQ +TRACKED TO DOOM +A SNAPSHOT AT THE PRESIDENT +AN UNFINISHED CHRISTMAS STORY +THE UNPROFITABLE SERVANT +ARISTOCRACY VERSUS HASH +THE PRISONER OF ZEMBLA +A STRANGE STORY +FICKLE FORTUNE, or HOW GLADYS HUSTLED + + + +Contents PAGE + +AN APOLOGY 212 + +LORD OAKHURST'S CURSE 213 + +BEXAR SCRIP No. 2692 217 + +QUERIES AND ANSWERS 231 + +THE PEWEE 234 + +NOTHING TO SAY 236 + +THE MURDERER 237 + +SOME POSTSCRIPTS 240 + +A CONTRIBUTION 240 + +THE OLD FARM 241 + +VANITY 241 + +THE LULLABY BOY 242 + +CHANSON DE BOHEME 242 + +HARD TO FORGET 243 + +DROP A TEAR IN THIS SLOT 245 + +TAMALES 246 + +SOME LETTERS 251 + + + +INTRODUCTION + +This the twelfth and final volume of O. Henry's work gets its title from +an early newspaper venture of which he was the head and front. On April +28, 1894, there appeared in Austin, Texas, volume 1, number 3, of The +Rolling Stone, with a circulation greatly in excess of that of the only +two numbers that had gone before. Apparently the business office was +encouraged. The first two issues of one thousand copies each had been +bought up. Of the third an edition of six thousand was published and +distributed FREE, so that the business men of Austin, Texas, might know +what a good medium was at hand for their advertising. The editor and +proprietor and illustrator of The Rolling Stone was Will Porter, +incidentally Paying and Receiving Teller in Major Brackenridge's bank. + +Perhaps the most characteristic feature of the paper was "The Plunkville +Patriot," a page each week--or at least with the regularity of the +somewhat uncertain paper itself--purporting to be reprinted from a +contemporary journal. The editor of the Plunkville Patriot was Colonel +Aristotle Jordan, unrelenting enemy of his enemies. When the Colonel's +application for the postmastership in Plunkville is ignored, his columns +carry a bitter attack on the administration at Washington. With the +public weal at heart, the Patriot announces that "there is a dangerous +hole in the front steps of the Elite saloon." Here, too, appears the +delightful literary item that Mark Twain and Charles Egbert Craddock are +spending the summer together in their Adirondacks camp. "Free," runs its +advertising column, "a clergyman who cured himself of fits will send one +book containing 100 popular songs, one repeating rifle, two decks +easywinner cards and 1 liver pad free of charge for $8. Address Sucker & +Chump, Augusta, Me." The office moves nearly every week, probably in +accordance with the time-honored principle involving the comparative +ease of moving and paying rent. When the Colonel publishes his own +candidacy for mayor, he further declares that the Patriot will accept no +announcements for municipal offices until after "our" (the editor's) +canvass. Adams & Co., grocers, order their $2.25 ad. discontinued and +find later in the Patriot this estimate of their product: "No less than +three children have been poisoned by eating their canned vegetables, and +J. O. Adams, the senior member of the firm, was run out of Kansas City +for adulterating codfish balls. It pays to advertise." Here is the +editorial in which the editor first announces his campaign: "Our worthy +mayor, Colonel Henry Stutty, died this morning after an illness of about +five minutes, brought on by carrying a bouquet to Mrs. Eli Watts just as +Eli got in from a fishing trip. Ten minutes later we had dodgers out +announcing our candidacy for the office. We have lived in Plunkville +going on five years and have never been elected anything yet. We +understand the mayor business thoroughly and if elected some people will +wish wolves had stolen them from their cradles . . . ." + +The page from the Patriot is presented with an array of perfectly +confused type, of artistic errors in setting up, and when an occasional +line gets shifted (intentionally, of course) the effect is alarming. +Anybody who knows the advertising of a small country weekly can, as he +reads, pick out, in the following, the advertisement from the +"personal." + + Miss Hattie Green of Paris, Ill., is + Steel-riveted seam or water power + automatic oiling thoroughly tested + visiting her sister Mrs. G. W. Grubes + Little Giant Engines at Adams & Co. + Also Sachet powders Mc. Cormick Reapers and + oysters. + +All of this was a part of The Rolling Stone, which flourished, or at +least wavered, in Austin during the years 1894 and 1895. Years before, +Porter's strong instinct to write had been gratified in letters. He +wrote, in his twenties, long imaginative letters, occasionally stuffed +with execrable puns, but more than often buoyant, truly humorous, keenly +incisive into the unreal, especially in fiction. I have included a +number of these letters to Doctor Beall of Greensboro, N. C., and to his +early friend in Texas, Mr. David Harrell. + +In 1895-1896 Porter went to Houston, Texas, to work on the Houston POST. +There he "conducted" a column which he called "Postscripts." Some of the +contents of the pages that follow have been taken from these old files +in the fair hope that admirers of the matured O. Henry will find in them +pleasurable marks of the later genius. + +Before the days of THE ROLLING STONE there are eleven years in Texas +over which, with the exception of the letters mentioned, there are few +"traces" of literary performance; but there are some very interesting +drawings, some of which are reproduced in this volume. A story is back +of them. They were the illustrations to a book. "Joe" Dixon, prospector +and inveterate fortune-seeker, came to Austin from the Rockies in 1883, +at the constant urging of his old pal, Mr. John Maddox, "Joe," kept +writing Mr. Maddox, "your fortune's in your pen, not your pick. Come to +Austin and write an account of your adventures." It was hard to woo +Dixon from the gold that wasn't there, but finally Maddox wrote him he +must come and try the scheme. "There's a boy here from North Carolina," +wrote Maddox. "His name is Will Porter and he can make the pictures. +He's all right." Dixon came. The plan was that, after Author and Artist +had done their work, Patron would step in, carry the manuscript to New +York, bestow it on a deserving publisher and then return to await, with +the other two, the avalanche of royalties. This version of the story +comes from Mr. Maddox. There were forty pictures in all and they were +very true to the life of the Rockies in the seventies. Of course, the +young artist had no "technique"--no anything except what was native. But +wait! As the months went by Dixon worked hard, but he began to have +doubts. Perhaps the book was no good. Perhaps John would only lose his +money. He was a miner, not a writer, and he ought not to let John go to +any expense. The result of this line of thought was the Colorado River +for the manuscript and the high road for the author. The pictures, +fortunately, were saved. Most of them Porter gave later to Mrs. +Hagelstein of San Angelo, Texas. Mr. Maddox, by the way, finding a note +from Joe that "explained all," hastened to the river and recovered a few +scraps of the great book that had lodged against a sandbar. But there +was no putting them together again. + +So much for the title. It is a real O. Henry title. Contents of this +last volume are drawn not only from letters, old newspaper files, and +The Rolling Stone, but from magazines and unpublished manuscripts. Of +the short stories, several were written at the very height of his powers +and popularity and were lost, inexplicably, but lost. Of the poems, +there are a few whose authorship might have been in doubt if the +compiler of this collection had not secured external evidence that made +them certainly the work of O. Henry. Without this very strong evidence, +they might have been rejected because they were not entirely the kind of +poems the readers of O. Henry would expect from him. Most of them +however, were found in his own indubitable manuscript or over his own +signature. + +There is extant a mass of O. Henry correspondence that has not been +included in this collection. During the better part of a decade in New +York City he wrote constantly to editors, and in many instances +intimately. This is very important material, and permission has been +secured to use nearly all of it in a biographical volume that will be +issued within the next two or three years. The letters in this volume +have been chosen as an "exihibit," as early specimens of his writing and +for their particularly characteristic turns of thought and phrase. The +collection is not "complete" in any historical sense. + +1912. + +H.P.S. + + + +This record of births and deaths is copied from the +Porter Family Bible, just lately discovered. + +BIRTHS + +ALGERNON SIDNEY PORTER +Son of SIDNEY AND RUTH C. PORTER +Was born August 22, 1825 + +MONDAY EVENING, May 29, 1858 +Still-born Son of A. S. AND M. V. PORTER + +MONDAY, August 6, 1860, 9 o'clock P.M. +SHIRLEY WORTH Son of A. S. AND M. V. PORTER + +THURSDAY, September 11, 1862, 9 o'clock P.M. +[O. HENRY] WILLIAM SIDNEY Son of A. S. AND M. V. PORTER + +SUNDAY, March 26, 1865, at 8 o'clock A. M. +DAVID WEIR Son of A. S. AND M. V. PORTER + +MARY JANE VIRGINIA SWAIM [MOTHER OF O. HENRY] +Daughter of WILLIAM AND ABIAH SWAIM +Was born February 12, 1833 + +DEATHS + +MARY VIRGINIA PORTER +TUESDAY EVENING, September 26, 1865 At 7:30 o'clock + +ATHOL ESTES PORTER +SUNDAY EVENING, July 25,1897 At 6 o'clock + +ALGERNON SIDNEY PORTER +SUNDAY MORNING, September 30, 1888 At 20 minutes of 2 o'clock + + + + + + + +THE DREAM + +[This was the last work of O. Henry. The Cosmopolitan Magazine had +ordered it from him and, after his death, the unfinished manuscript was +found in his room, on his dusty desk. The story as it here appears was +published in the Cosmopolitan for September, 1910.] + +MURRAY dreamed a dream. + +Both psychology and science grope when they would explain to us the +strange adventures of our immaterial selves when wandering in the realm +of "Death's twin brother, Sleep." This story will not attempt to be +illuminative; it is no more than a record of Murray's dream. One of the +most puzzling phases of that strange waking sleep is that dreams which +seem to cover months or even years may take place within a few seconds +or minutes. + +Murray was waiting in his cell in the ward of the condemned. An electric +arc light in the ceiling of the corridor shone brightly upon his table. +On a sheet of white paper an ant crawled wildly here and there as Murray +blocked its way with an envelope. The electrocution was set for eight +o'clock in the evening. Murray smiled at the antics of the wisest of +insects. + +There were seven other condemned men in the chamber. Since he had been +there Murray had seen three taken out to their fate; one gone mad and +fighting like a wolf caught in a trap; one, no less mad, offering up a +sanctimonious lip-service to Heaven; the third, a weakling, collapsed +and strapped to a board. He wondered with what credit to himself his own +heart, foot, and face would meet his punishment; for this was his +evening. He thought it must be nearly eight o'clock. + +Opposite his own in the two rows of cells was the cage of Bonifacio, the +Sicilian slayer of his betrothed and of two officers who came to arrest +him. With him Murray had played checkers many a long hour, each calling +his move to his unseen opponent across the corridor. + +Bonifacio's great booming voice with its indestructible singing quality +called out: + +"Eh, Meestro Murray; how you feel--all-a right--yes?" + +"All right, Bonifacio," said Murray steadily, as he allowed the ant to +crawl upon the envelope and then dumped it gently on the stone floor. + +"Dat's good-a, Meestro Murray. Men like us, we must-a die like-a men. My +time come nex'-a week. All-a right. Remember, Meestro Murray, I beat-a +you dat las' game of de check. Maybe we play again some-a time. I don'-a +know. Maybe we have to call-a de move damn-a loud to play de check where +dey goin' send us." + +Bonifacio's hardened philosophy, followed closely by his deafening, +musical peal of laughter, warmed rather than chilled Murray's numbed +heart. Yet, Bonifacio had until next week to live. + +The cell-dwellers heard the familiar, loud click of the steel bolts as +the door at the end of the corridor was opened. Three men came to +Murray's cell and unlocked it. Two were prison guards; the other was +"Len"--no; that was in the old days; now the Reverend Leonard Winston, +a friend and neighbor from their barefoot days. + +"I got them to let me take the prison chaplain's place," he said, as he +gave Murray's hand one short, strong grip. In his left hand he held a +small Bible, with his forefinger marking a page. + +Murray smiled slightly and arranged two or three books and some +penholders orderly on his small table. He would have spoken, but no +appropriate words seemed to present themselves to his mind. + +The prisoners had christened this cellhouse, eighty feet long, +twenty-eight feet wide, Limbo Lane. The regular guard of Limbo Lane, an +immense, rough, kindly man, drew a pint bottle of whiskey from his +pocket and offered it to Murray, saying: + +"It's the regular thing, you know. All has it who feel like they need a +bracer. No danger of it becoming a habit with 'em, you see." + +Murray drank deep into the bottle. + +"That's the boy!" said the guard. "Just a little nerve tonic, and +everything goes smooth as silk." + +They stepped into the corridor, and each one of the doomed seven knew. +Limbo Lane is a world on the outside of the world; but it had learned, +when deprived of one or more of the five senses, to make another sense +supply the deficiency. Each one knew that it was nearly eight, and that +Murray was to go to the chair at eight. There is also in the many Limbo +Lanes an aristocracy of crime. The man who kills in the open, who beats +his enemy or pursuer down, flushed by the primitive emotions and the +ardor of combat, holds in contempt the human rat, the spider, and the +snake. + +So, of the seven condemned only three called their farewells to Murray +as he marched down the corridor between the two guards--Bonifacio, +Marvin, who had killed a guard while trying to escape from the prison, +and Bassett, the train-robber, who was driven to it because the +express-messenger wouldn't raise his hands when ordered to do so. The +remaining four smoldered, silent, in their cells, no doubt feeling their +social ostracism in Limbo Lane society more keenly than they did the +memory of their less picturesque offences against the law. + +Murray wondered at his own calmness and nearly indifference. In the +execution room were about twenty men, a congregation made up of prison +officers, newspaper reporters, and lookers-on who had succeeded + + +Here, in the very middle of a sentence, the hand of Death interrupted +the telling of O. Henry's last story. He had planned to make this story +different from his others, the beginning of a new series in a style he +had not previously attempted. "I want to show the public," he said, +"that I can write something new--new for me, I mean--a story without +slang, a straightforward dramatic plot treated in a way that will come +nearer my idea of real story-writing." Before starting to write the +present story, he outlined briefly how he intended to develop it: +Murray, the criminal accused and convicted of the brutal murder of his +sweetheart--a murder prompted by jealous rage--at first faces the death +penalty, calm, and, to all outward appearances, indifferent to his fate. +As he nears the electric chair he is overcome by a revulsion of feeling. +He is left dazed, stupefied, stunned. The entire scene in the +death-chamber--the witnesses, the spectators, the preparations for +execution--become unreal to him. The thought flashes through his brain +that a terrible mistake is being made. Why is he being strapped to the +chair? What has he done? What crime has he committed? In the few moments +while the straps are being adjusted a vision comes to him. He dreams a +dream. He sees a little country cottage, bright, sun-lit, nestling in a +bower of flowers. A woman is there, and a little child. He speaks with +them and finds that they are his wife, his child--and the cottage their +home. So, after all, it is a mistake. Some one has frightfully, +irretrievably blundered. The accusation, the trial, the conviction, the +sentence to death in the electric chair--all a dream. He takes his wife +in his arms and kisses the child. Yes, here is happiness. It was a +dream. Then--at a sign from the prison warden the fatal current is +turned on. + +Murray had dreamed the wrong dream. + + + + + + +A RULER of MEN + +[Written at the prime of his popularity and power, this characteristic +and amusing story was published in Everybody's Magazine in August, +1906.] + +I walked the streets of the City of Insolence, thirsting for the sight +of a stranger face. For the City is a desert of familiar types as thick +and alike as the grains in a sand-storm; and you grow to hate them as +you do a friend who is always by you, or one of your own kin. + +And my desire was granted, for I saw near a corner of Broadway and +Twenty-ninth Street, a little flaxen-haired man with a face like a +scaly-bark hickory-nut, selling to a fast-gathering crowd a tool that +omnigeneously proclaimed itself a can-opener, a screw-driver, a +button-hook, a nail-file, a shoe-horn, a watch-guard, a potato-peeler; +and an ornament to any gentleman's key-ring. + +And then a stall-fed cop shoved himself through the congregation of +customers. The vender, plainly used to having his seasons of trade thus +abruptly curtailed, closed his satchel and slipped like a weasel through +the opposite segment of the circle. The crowd scurried aimlessly away +like ants from a disturbed crumb. The cop, suddenly becoming oblivious +of the earth and its inhabitants, stood still, swelling his bulk and +putting his club through an intricate drill of twirls. I hurried after +Kansas Bill Bowers, and caught him by an arm. + +Without his looking at me or slowing his pace, I found a five-dollar +bill crumpled neatly into my hand. + +"I wouldn't have thought, Kansas Bill," I said, "that you'd hold an old +friend that cheap." + +Then he turned his head, and the hickory-nut cracked into a wide smile. + +"Give back the money," said he, "or I'll have the cop after you for +false pretenses. I thought you was the cop." + +"I want to talk to you, Bill," I said. "When did you leave Oklahoma? +Where is Reddy McGill now? Why are you selling those impossible +contraptions on the street? How did your Big Horn gold-mine pan out? How +did you get so badly sunburned? What will you drink?" + +"A year ago," answered Kansas Bill systematically. "Putting up windmills +in Arizona. For pin money to buy etceteras with. Salted. Been down in +the tropics. Beer." + +We foregathered in a propitious place and became Elijahs while a waiter +of dark plumage played the raven to perfection. Reminiscence needs must +be had before I could steer Bill into his epic mood. + +"Yes," said he, "I mind the time Timoteo's rope broke on that cow's +horns while the calf was chasing you. You and that cow! I'd never forget +it." + +"The tropics," said I, "are a broad territory. What part of Cancer of +Capricorn have you been honoring with a visit?" + +"Down along China or Peru--or maybe the Argentine Confederacy," said +Kansas Bill. "Anyway 'twas among a great race of people, off-colored but +progressive. I was there three months." + +"No doubt you are glad to be back among the truly great race," I +surmised. "Especially among New Yorkers, the most progressive and +independent citizens of any country in the world," I continued, with the +fatuity of the provincial who has eaten the Broadway lotus. + +"Do you want to start an argument?" asked Bill. + +"Can there be one?" I answered. + +"Has an Irishman humor, do you think?" asked he. + +"I have an hour or two to spare," said I, looking at the cafe clock. + +"Not that the Americans aren't a great commercial nation," conceded +Bill. "But the fault laid with the people who wrote lies for fiction." + +"What was this Irishman's name?" I asked. + +"Was that last beer cold enough?" said he. + +"I see there is talk of further outbreaks among the Russian peasants," I +remarked. + +"His name was Barney O'Connor," said Bill. + +Thus, because of our ancient prescience of each other's trail of +thought, we travelled ambiguously to the point where Kansas Bill's story +began: + +"I met O'Connor in a boarding-house on the West Side. He invited me to +his hall-room to have a drink, and we became like a dog and a cat that +had been raised together. There he sat, a tall, fine, handsome man, with +his feet against one wall and his back against the other, looking over a +map. On the bed and sticking three feet out of it was a beautiful gold +sword with tassels on it and rhinestones in the handle. + +"'What's this?' says I (for by that time we were well acquainted). 'The +annual parade in vilification of the ex-snakes of Ireland? And what's +the line of march? Up Broadway to Forty-second; thence east to McCarty's +cafe; thence--' + +"'Sit down on the wash-stand,' says O'Connor, 'and listen. And cast no +perversions on the sword. 'Twas me father's in old Munster. And this +map, Bowers, is no diagram of a holiday procession. If ye look again. +ye'll see that it's the continent known as South America, comprising +fourteen green, blue, red, and yellow countries, all crying out from +time to time to be liberated from the yoke of the oppressor.' + +"'I know,' says I to O'Connor. 'The idea is a literary one. The ten-cent +magazine stole it from "Ridpath's History of the World from the +Sand-stone Period to the Equator." You'll find it in every one of 'em. +It's a continued story of a soldier of fortune, generally named O'Keefe, +who gets to be dictator while the Spanish-American populace cries +"Cospetto!" and other Italian maledictions. I misdoubt if it's ever been +done. You're not thinking of trying that, are you, Barney?' I asks. + +"'Bowers,' says he, 'you're a man of education and courage.' + +"How can I deny it?' says I. 'Education runs in my family; and I have +acquired courage by a hard struggle with life.' + +"'The O'Connors,' says he, 'are a warlike race. There is me father's +sword; and here is the map. A life of inaction is not for me. The +O'Connors were born to rule. 'Tis a ruler of men I must be.' + +"'Barney,' I says to him, 'why don't you get on the force and settle +down to a quiet life of carnage and corruption instead of roaming off to +foreign parts? In what better way can you indulge your desire to subdue +and maltreat the oppressed?' + +"'Look again at the map,' says he, 'at the country I have the point of +me knife on. 'Tis that one I have selected to aid and overthrow with me +father's sword.' + +"'I see,' says I. 'It's the green one; and that does credit to your +patriotism, and it's the smallest one; and that does credit to your +judgment.' + +"'Do ye accuse me of cowardice?' says Barney, turning pink. + +"'No man,' says I, 'who attacks and confiscates a country single-handed +could be called a coward. The worst you can be charged with is +plagiarism or imitation. If Anthony Hope and Roosevelt let you get away +with it, nobody else will have any right to kick.' + +"'I'm not joking,' says O'Connor. 'And I've got $1,500 cash to work the +scheme with. I've taken a liking to you. Do you want it, or not?' + +"'I'm not working,' I told him; 'but how is it to be? Do I eat during +the fomentation of the insurrection, or am I only to be Secretary of War +after the country is conquered? Is it to be a pay envelope or only a +portfolio?' + +"I'll pay all expenses,' says O'Connor. "I want a man I can trust. If we +succeed you may pick out any appointment you want in the gift of the +government.' + +"'All right, then,' says I. 'You can get me a bunch of draying contracts +and then a quick-action consignment to a seat on the Supreme Court bench +so I won't be in line for the presidency. The kind of cannon they +chasten their presidents with in that country hurt too much. You can +consider me on the pay-roll.' + +"Two weeks afterward O'Connor and me took a steamer for the small, +green, doomed country. We were three weeks on the trip. O'Connor said he +had his plans all figured out in advance; but being the commanding +general, it consorted with his dignity to keep the details concealed +from his army and cabinet, commonly known as William T. Bowers. Three +dollars a day was the price for which I joined the cause of liberating +an undiscovered country from the ills that threatened or sustained it. +Every Saturday night on the steamer I stood in line at parade rest, and +O'Connor handed ever the twenty-one dollars. + +"The town we landed at was named Guayaquerita, so they told me. `Not for +me,' says I. 'It'll be little old Hilldale or Tompkinsville or Cherry +Tree Corners when I speak of it. It's a clear case where Spelling Reform +ought to butt in and disenvowel it.' + +"But the town looked fine from the bay when we sailed in. It was white, +with green ruching, and lace ruffles on the skirt when the surf slashed +up on the sand. It looked as tropical and dolce far ultra as the +pictures of Lake Ronkonkoma in the brochure of the passenger department +of the Long Island Railroad. + +"We went through the quarantine and custom-house indignities; and then +O'Connor leads me to a 'dobe house on a street called 'The Avenue of the +Dolorous Butterflies of the Individual and Collective Saints.' Ten feet +wide it was, and knee-deep in alfalfa and cigar stumps. + +"'Hooligan Alley,' says I, rechristening it. + +"''Twill be our headquarters,' says O'Connor. 'My agent here, Don +Fernando Pacheco, secured it for us.' + +"So in that house O'Connor and me established the revolutionary centre. +In the front room we had ostensible things such as fruit, a guitar, and +a table with a conch shell on it. In the back room O'Connor had his desk +and a large looking-glass and his sword hid in a roll of straw matting. +We slept on hammocks that we hung to hooks in the wall; and took our +meals at the Hotel Ingles, a beanery run on the American plan by a +German proprietor with Chinese cooking served a la Kansas City lunch +counter. + +"It seems that O'Connor really did have some sort of system planned out +beforehand. He wrote plenty of letters; and every day or two some native +gent would stroll round to headquarters and be shut up in the back room +for half an hour with O'Connor and the interpreter. I noticed that when +they went in they were always smoking eight-inch cigars and at peace +with the world; but when they came out they would be folding up a ten- +or twenty-dollar bill and cursing the government horribly. + +"One evening after we had been in Guaya--in this town of +Smellville-by-the-Sea--about a month, and me and O'Connor were sitting +outside the door helping along old tempus fugit with rum and ice and +limes, I says to him: + +"'If you'll excuse a patriot that don't exactly know what he's +patronizing, for the question--what is your scheme for subjugating this +country? Do you intend to plunge it into bloodshed, or do you mean to +buy its votes peacefully and honorably at the polls?' + +"'Bowers,' says he, 'ye're a fine little man and I intend to make great +use of ye after the conflict. But ye do not understand statecraft. +Already by now we have a network of strategy clutching with invisible +fingers at the throat of the tyrant Calderas. We have agents at work in +every town in the republic. The Liberal party is bound to win. On our +secret lists we have the names of enough sympathizers to crush the +administration forces at a single blow.' + +"'A straw vote,' says I, 'only shows which way the hot air blows.' + +"'Who has accomplished this?' goes on O'Connor. 'I have. I have directed +everything. The time was ripe when we came, so my agents inform me. The +people are groaning under burdens of taxes and levies. Who will be their +natural leader when they rise? Could it be any one but meself? 'Twas +only yesterday that Zaldas, our representative in the province of +Durasnas, tells me that the people, in secret, already call me "El +Library Door," which is the Spanish manner of saying "The Liberator."' + +"'Was Zaldas that maroon-colored old Aztec with a paper collar on and +unbleached domestic shoes?' I asked. + +"'He was,' says O'Connor. + +"'I saw him tucking a yellow-back into his vest pocket as he came out,' +says I. 'It may be,' says I, 'that they call you a library door, but +they treat you more like the side door of a bank. But let us hope for +the worst.' + +"'It has cost money, of course,' says O'Connor; 'but we'll have the +country in our hands inside of a month.' + +"In the evenings we walked about in the plaza and listened to the band +playing and mingled with the populace at its distressing and obnoxious +pleasures. There were thirteen vehicles belonging to the upper classes, +mostly rockaways and old-style barouches, such as the mayor rides in at +the unveiling of the new poorhouse at Milledgeville, Alabama. Round and +round the desiccated fountain in the middle of the plaza they drove, and +lifted their high silk hats to their friends. The common people walked +around in barefooted bunches, puffing stogies that a Pittsburg +millionaire wouldn't have chewed for a dry smoke on Ladies' Day at his +club. And the grandest figure in the whole turnout was Barney O'Connor. + +"Six foot two he stood in his Fifth Avenue clothes, with his eagle eye +and his black moustache that tickled his ears. He was a born dictator +and czar and hero and harrier of the human race. It looked to me that +all eyes were turned upon O'Connor, and that every woman there loved +him, and every man feared him. Once or twice I looked at him and thought +of funnier things that had happened than his winning out in his game; +and I began to feel like a Hidalgo de Officio de Grafto de South America +myself. And then I would come down again to solid bottom and let my +imagination gloat, as usual, upon the twenty-one American dollars due me +on Saturday night. + +"'Take note,' says O'Connor to me as thus we walked, 'of the mass of the +people. Observe their oppressed and melancholy air. Can ye not see that +they are ripe for revolt? Do ye not perceive that they are disaffected?' + +"'I do not,' says I. `Nor disinfected either. I'm beginning to +understand these people. When they look unhappy they're enjoying +themselves. When they feel unhappy they go to sleep. They're not the +kind of people to take an interest in revolutions.' + +"'They'll flock to our standard,' says O'Connor. 'Three thousand men in +this town alone will spring to arms when the signal is given. I am +assured of that. But everything is in secret. There is no chance for us +to fail.' + +"On Hooligan Alley, as I prefer to call the street our headquarters was +on, there was a row of flat 'dobe houses with red tile roofs, some straw +shacks full of Indians and dogs, and one two-story wooden house with +balconies a little farther down. That was where General Tumbalo, the +comandante and commander of the military forces, lived. Right across the +street was a private residence built like a combination bake-oven and +folding-bed. One day, O'Connor and me were passing it, single file, on +the flange they called a sidewalk, when out of the window flies a big +red rose. O'Connor, who is ahead, picks it up, presses it to his fifth +rib, and bows to the ground. By Carrambos! that man certainly had the +Irish drama chaunceyized. I looked around expecting to see the little +boy and girl in white sateen ready to jump on his shoulder while he +jolted their spinal columns and ribs together through a breakdown, and +sang: `Sleep, Little One, Sleep.' + +"As I passed the window I glanced inside and caught a glimpse of a white +dress and a pair of big, flashing black eyes and gleaming teeth under a +dark lace mantilla. + +"When we got back to our house O'Connor began to walk up and down the +floor and twist his moustaches. + +"`Did ye see her eyes, Bowers?' he asks me. + +"`I did,' says I, `and I can see more than that. It's all coming out +according to the story-books. I knew there was something missing. 'Twas +the love interest. What is it that comes in Chapter VII to cheer the +gallant Irish adventurer? Why, Love, of course--Love that makes the hat +go around. At last we have the eyes of midnight hue and the rose flung +from the barred window. Now, what comes next? The underground passage-- +the intercepted letter--the traitor in camp--the hero thrown into a +dungeon--the mysterious message from the senorita--then the +outburst--the fighting on the plaza--the--' + +"'Don't be a fool,' says O'Connor, interrupting. 'But that's the only +woman in the world for me, Bowers. The O'Connors are as quick to love as +they are to fight. I shall wear that rose over me heart when I lead me +men into action. For a good battle to be fought there must be some woman +to give it power.' + +"`Every time,' I agreed, 'if you want to have a good lively scrap. +There's only one thing bothering me. In the novels the light-haired +friend of the hero always gets killed. Think 'em all over that you've +read, and you'll see that I'm right. I think I'll step down to the +Botica Espanola and lay in a bottle of walnut stain before war is +declared.' + +"'How will I find out her name?' says O'Connor, layin' his chin in his +hand. + +"'Why don't you go across the street and ask her?' says I. + +"'Will ye never regard anything in life seriously?' says O'Connor, +looking down at me like a schoolmaster. + +"'Maybe she meant the rose for me,' I said, whistling the Spanish +Fandango. + +"For the first time since I'd known O'Connor, he laughed. He got up and +roared and clapped his knees, and leaned against the wall till the tiles +on the roof clattered to the noise of his lungs. He went into the back +room and looked at himself in the glass and began and laughed all over +from the beginning again. Then he looked at me and repeated himself. +That's why I asked you if you thought an Irishman had any humor. He'd +been doing farce comedy from the day I saw him without knowing it; and +the first time he had an idea advanced to him with any intelligence in +it he acted like two twelfths of the sextet in a 'Floradora' road +company. + +"The next afternoon he comes in with a triumphant smile and begins to +pull something like ticker tape out of his pocket. + +"'Great !' says I. 'This is something like home. How is Amalgamated +Copper to-day?' + +"'I've got her name,' says O'Connor, and he reads off something like +this: 'Dona Isabel Antonia Inez Lolita Carreras y Buencaminos y +Monteleon. She lives with her mother,' explains O'Connor. 'Her father +was killed in the last revolution. She is sure to be in sympathy with +our cause.' + +"And sure enough the next day she flung a little bunch of roses clear +across the street into our door. O'Connor dived for it and found a piece +of paper curled around a stem with a line in Spanish on it. He dragged +the interpreter out of his corner and got him busy. The interpreter +scratched his head, and gave us as a translation three best bets: +'Fortune had got a face like the man fighting'; 'Fortune looks like a +brave man'; and 'Fortune favors the brave.' We put our money on the last +one. + +"'Do ye see?' says O'Connor. 'She intends to encourage me sword to save +her country.' + +"'It looks to me like an invitation to supper,' says I. + +"So every day this senorita sits behind the barred windows and exhausts +a conservatory or two, one posy at a time. And O'Connor walks like a +Dominecker rooster and swells his chest and swears to me he will win her +by feats of arms and big deeds on the gory field of battle. + +"By and by the revolution began to get ripe. One day O'Connor takes me +into the back room and tells me all. + +"'Bowers,' says he, 'at twelve o'clock one week from to-day the struggle +will take place. It has pleased ye to find amusement and diversion in +this project because ye have not sense enough to perceive that it is +easily accomplished by a man of courage, intelligence, and historical +superiority, such as meself. The whole world over,' says he, 'the +O'Connors have ruled men, women, and nations. To subdue a small and +indifferent country like this is a trifle. Ye see what little, +barefooted manikins the men of it are. I could lick four of 'em +single-handed.' + +"'No doubt,' says I. 'But could you lick six? And suppose they hurled an +army of seventeen against you?' + +"'Listen,' says O'Connor, 'to what will occur. At noon next Tuesday +25,000 patriots will rise up in the towns of the republic. The +government will be absolutely unprepared. The public buildings will be +taken, the regular army made prisoners, and the new administration set +up. In the capital it will not be so easy on account of most of the army +being stationed there. They will occupy the president's palace and the +strongly fortified government buildings and stand a siege. But on the +very day of the outbreak a body of our troops will begin a march to the +capital from every town as soon as the local victory has been won. The +thing is so well planned that it is an impossibility for us to fail. I +meself will lead the troops from here. The new president will be Senor +Espadas, now Minister of Finance in the present cabinet.' + +"'What do you get?' I asked. + +"''Twill be strange,' said O'Connor smiling, 'if I don't have all the +jobs handed to me on a silver salver to pick what I choose. I've been +the brains of the scheme, and when the fighting opens I guess I won't be +in the rear rank. Who managed it so our troops could get arms smuggled +into this country? Didn't I arrange it with a New York firm before I +left there? Our financial agents inform me that 20,000 stands of +Winchester rifles have been delivered a month ago at a secret place up +coast and distributed among the towns. I tell you, Bowers, the game is +already won.' + +"Well, that kind of talk kind of shook my disbelief in the infallibility +of the serious Irish gentleman soldier of fortune. It certainly seemed +that the patriotic grafters had gone about the thing in a business way. +I looked upon O'Connor with more respect, and began to figure on what +kind of uniform I might wear as Secretary of War. + +"Tuesday, the day set for the revolution, came around according to +schedule. O'Connor said that a signal had been agreed upon for the +uprising. There was an old cannon on the beach near the national +warehouse. That had been secretly loaded and promptly at twelve o'clock +was to be fired off. Immediately the revolutionists would seize their +concealed arms, attack the comandante's troops in the cuartel, and +capture the custom-house and all government property and supplies. + +"I was nervous all the morning. And about eleven o'clock O'Connor became +infused with the excitement and martial spirit of murder. He geared his +father's sword around him, and walked up and down in the back room like +a lion in the Zoo suffering from corns. I smoked a couple of dozen +cigars, and decided on yellow stripes down the trouser legs of my +uniform. + +"At half-past eleven O'Connor asks me to take a short stroll through the +streets to see if I could notice any signs of the uprising. I was back +in fifteen minutes. + +"'Did you hear anything?' he asks. + +"'I did,' says I. 'At first I thought it was drums. But it wasn't; it +was snoring. Everybody in town's asleep.' + +"O'Connor tears out his watch. + +"'Fools!' says he. "They've set the time right at the siesta hour when +everybody takes a nap. But the cannon will wake 'em up. Everything will +be all right, depend upon it.' + +"Just at twelve o'clock we heard the sound of a cannon--BOOM!--shaking +the whole town. + +"O'Connor loosens his sword in its scabbard and jumps for the door. I +went as far as the door and stood in it. + +"People were sticking their heads out of doors and windows. But there +was one grand sight that made the landscape look tame. + +"General Tumbalo, the comandante, was rolling down the steps of his +residential dugout, waving a five-foot sabre in his hand. He wore his +cocked and plumed hat and his dress-parade coat covered with gold braid +and buttons. Sky-blue pajamas, one rubber boot, and one red-plush +slipper completed his make-up. + +"The general had heard the cannon, and he puffed down the sidewalk +toward the soldiers' barracks as fast as his rudely awakened two hundred +pounds could travel. + +"O'Connor sees him and lets out a battle-cry and draws his father's +sword and rushes across the street and tackle's the enemy. + +"Right there in the street he and the general gave an exhibition of +blacksmithing and butchery. Sparks flew from their blades, the general +roared, and O'Connor gave the slogan of his race and proclivities. + +"Then the general's sabre broke in two; and he took to his +ginger-colored heels crying out, 'Policios,' at every jump. O'Connor +chased him a block, imbued with the sentiment of manslaughter, and +slicing buttons off the general's coat tails with the paternal weapon. +At the corner five barefooted policemen in cotton undershirts and straw +fiats climbed over O'Connor and subjugated him according to the +municipal statutes. + +"They brought him past the late revolutionary headquarters on the way to +jail. I stood in the door. A policeman had him by each hand and foot, +and they dragged him on his back through the grass like a turtle. Twice +they stopped, and the odd policeman took another's place while he rolled +a cigarette. The great soldier of fortune turned his head and looked at +me as they passed. I blushed, and lit another cigar. The procession +passed on, and at ten minutes past twelve everybody had gone back to +sleep again. + +"In the afternoon the interpreter came around and smiled as he laid his +hand on the big red jar we usually kept ice-water in. + +"'The ice-man didn't call to-day,' says I. `What's the matter with +everything, Sancho?' + +"`Ah, yes,' says the liver-colored linguist. `They just tell me in the +town. Verree bad act that Senor O'Connor make fight with General +Tumbalo. Yes, general Tumbalo great soldier and big mans.' + +"`What'll they do to Mr. O'Connor?' I asks. + +"`I talk little while presently with the Juez de la Paz--what you +call Justice-with-the-peace,' says Sancho. 'He tell me it verree bad +crime that one Senor Americano try kill General Tumbalo. He say they +keep Senor O'Connor in jail six months; then have trial and shoot him +with guns. Verree sorree.' + +"`How about this revolution that was to be pulled off?' I asks. + +"`Oh,' says this Sancho, `I think too hot weather for +revolution. Revolution better in winter-time. Maybe so next +winter. Quien sabe?' + +"'But the cannon went off,' says I. 'The signal was given.' + +"'That big sound?' says Sancho, grinning. 'The boiler in ice factory +he blow up--BOOM! Wake everybody up from siesta. Verree sorree. No +ice. Mucho hot day.' + +"About sunset I went over to the jail, and they let me talk to +O'Connor through the bars. + +"'What's the news, Bowers?' says he. 'Have we taken the town? I've been +expecting a rescue party all the afternoon. I haven't heard any firing. +Has any word been received from the capital?' + +"'Take it easy, Barney,' says I. 'I think there's been a change of +plans. There's something more important to talk about. Have you any +money?' + +"'I have not,' says O'Connor. 'The last dollar went to pay our hotel +bill yesterday. Did our troops capture the custom-house? There ought be +plenty of government money there.' + +"'Segregate your mind from battles,' says I. 'I've been making +inquiries. You're to be shot six months from date for assault and +battery. I'm expecting to receive fifty years at hard labor for +vagrancy. All they furnish you while you're a prisoner is water. You +depend on your friends for food. I'll see what I can do.' + +"I went away and found a silver Chile dollar in an old vest of +O'Connor's. I took him some fried fish and rice for his supper. In the +morning I went down to a lagoon and had a drink of water, and then went +back to the jail. O'Connor had a porterhouse steak look in his eye. + +"'Barney,' says I, `I've found a pond full of the finest kind of water. +It's the grandest, sweetest, purest water in the world. Say the word and +I'll go fetch you a bucket of it and you can throw this vile government +stuff out the window. I'll do anything I can for a friend.' + +"`Has it come to this?' says O'Connor, raging up and down his cell. `Am +I to be starved to death and then shot? I'll make those traitors feel +the weight of an O'Connor's hand when I get out of this.' And then he +comes to the bars and speaks softer. `Has nothing been heard from Dona +Isabel?' he asks. `Though every one else in the world fail,' says he, `I +trust those eyes of hers. She will find a way to effect my release. Do +ye think ye could communicate with her? One word from her--even a rose +would make me sorrow light. But don't let her know except with the +utmost delicacy, Bowers. These high-bred Castilians are sensitive and +proud.' + +"`Well said, Barney,' says I. 'You've given me an idea. I'll report +later. Something's got to be pulled off quick, or we'll both starve.' + +"I walked out and down to Hooligan Alley, and then on the other side of +the street. As I went past the window of Dona Isabel Antonia Concha +Regalia, out flies the rose as usual and hits me on the ear. + +"The door was open, and I took off my hat and walked in. It wasn't very +light; inside, but there she sat in a rocking-chair by the window +smoking a black cheroot. And when I got closer I saw that she was about +thirty-nine, and had never seen a straight front in her life. I sat down +on the arm of her chair, and took the cheroot out of her mouth and stole +a kiss. + +"'Hullo, Izzy,' I says. 'Excuse my unconventionality, but I feel like I +have known you for a month. Whose Izzy is oo?' + +"The lady ducked her head under her mantilla, and drew in a long breath. +I thought she was going to scream, but with all that intake of air she +only came out with: 'Me likee Americanos.' + +"As soon as she said that, I knew that O'Connor and me would be doing +things with a knife and fork before the day was over. I drew a chair +beside her, and inside of half an hour we were engaged. Then I took my +hat and said I must go out for a while. + +"'You come back?' says Izzy, in alarm. + +"'Me go bring preacher,' says I. 'Come back twenty minutes. We marry +now. How you likee?' + +"'Marry to-day?' says Izzy. 'Good!' + +"I went down on the beach to the United States consul's shack. He was a +grizzly man, eighty-two pounds, smoked glasses, five foot eleven, +pickled. He was playing chess with an india-rubber man in white clothes. + +"'Excuse me for interrupting,' says I, `but can you tell me how a man +could get married quick?' + +"The consul gets up and fingers in a pigeonhole. + +"'I believe I had a license to perform the ceremony myself, a year or +two ago,' he said. 'I'll look, and----' + +"I caught hold of his arm. "'Don't look it up,' says I. 'Marriage is a +lottery anyway. I'm willing to take the risk about the license if you +are.' + +"The consul went back to Hooligan Alley with me. Izzy called her ma to +come in, but the old lady was picking a chicken in the patio and begged +to be excused. So we stood up and the consul performed the ceremony. + +"That evening Mrs. Bowers cooked a great supper of stewed goat, tamales, +baked bananas, fricasseed red peppers and coffee. Afterward I sat in the +rocking-chair by the front window, and she sat on the floor plunking at +a guitar and happy, as she should be, as Mrs. William T.B. + +"All at once I sprang up in a hurry. I'd forgotten all about O'Connor. I +asked Izzy to fix up a lot of truck for him to eat. + +"'That big, oogly man,' said Izzy. 'But all right--he your friend.' + +"I pulled a rose out of a bunch in a jar, and took the grub-basket +around to the jail. O'Connor ate like a wolf. Then he wiped his face +with a banana peel and said: `Have you heard nothing from Dona Isabel +yet?' + +"'Hist!' says I, slipping the rose between the bars. 'She sends you +this. She bids you take courage. At nightfall two masked men brought it +to the ruined chateau in the orange grove. How did you like that goat +hash, Barney?' + +"O'Connor pressed the rose to his lips. "'This is more to me than all +the food in the world,' says he. 'But the supper was fine. Where did +you raise it?' + +"'I've negotiated a stand-off at a delicatessen but downtown,' I tells +him. 'Rest easy. If there's anything to be done I'll do it.' + +"So things went along that way for some weeks. Izzy was a great cook; +and if she had had a little more poise of character and smoked a little +better brand of tobacco we might have drifted into some sense of +responsibility for the honor I had conferred on her. But as time went on +I began to hunger for the sight of a real lady standing before me in a +street-car. All I was staying in that land of bilk and money for was +because I couldn't get away, and I thought it no more than decent to +stay and see O'Connor shot. + +"One day our old interpreter drops around and after smoking an hour says +that the judge of the peace sent him to request me to call on him. I +went to his office in a lemon grove on a hill at the edge of the town; +and there I had a surprise. I expected to see one of the usual +cinnamon-colored natives in congress gaiters and one of Pizzaro's +cast-off hats. What I saw was an elegant gentleman of a slightly +claybank complexion sitting in an upholstered leather chair, sipping a +highball and reading Mrs. Humphry Ward. I had smuggled into my brain a +few words of Spanish by the help of Izzy, and I began to remark in a +rich Andalusian brogue: + +"'Buenas dias, senor. Yo tengo--yo tengo--' + +"'Oh, sit down, Mr. Bowers,' says he. 'I spent eight years in your +country in colleges and law schools. Let me mix you a highball. Lemon +peel, or not?' + +"Thus we got along. In about half an hour I was beginning to tell him +about the scandal in our family when Aunt Elvira ran away with a +Cumberland Presbyterian preacher. Then he says to me: + +"'I sent for you, Mr. Bowers, to let you know that you can have your +friend Mr. O'Connor now. Of course we had to make a show of punishing +him on account of his attack on General Tumbalo. It is arranged that he +shall be released to-morrow night. You and he will be conveyed on board +the fruit steamer Voyager, bound for New York, which lies in the harbor. +Your passage will be arranged for.' + +"'One moment, judge,' says I; 'that revolution--' + +"The judge lays back in his chair and howls. "'Why,' says he presently, +'that was all a little joke fixed up by the boys around the court-room, +and one or two of our cut-ups, and a few clerks in the stores. The town +is bursting its sides with laughing. The boys made themselves up to be +conspirators, and they--what you call it?--stick Senor O'Connor for his +money. It is very funny.' + +"'It was,' says I. 'I saw the joke all along. I'll take another +highball, if your Honor don't mind.' + +"The next evening just at dark a couple of soldiers brought O'Connor +down to the beach, where I was waiting under a cocoanut-tree. + +"'Hist!' says I in his ear: 'Dona Isabel has arranged our escape. Not a +word!' + +"They rowed us in a boat out to a little steamer that smelled of table +d'hote salad oil and bone phosphate. + +"The great, mellow, tropical moon was rising as we steamed away. +O'Connor leaned on the taffrail or rear balcony of the ship and gazed +silently at Guaya--at Buncoville-on-the-Beach. + +"He had the red rose in his hand. + +"'She will wait,' I heard him say. 'Eyes like hers never deceive. But I +shall see her again. Traitors cannot keep an O'Connor down forever.' + +"'You talk like a sequel,' says I. 'But in Volume II please omit the +light-haired friend who totes the grub to the hero in his dungeon cell.' + +"And thus reminiscing, we came back to New York." + +There was a little silence broken only by the familiar roar of the +streets after Kansas Bill Bowers ceased talking. + +"Did O'Connor ever go back?" I asked. + +"He attained his heart's desire," said Bill. "Can you walk two blocks? +I'll show you." + +He led me eastward and down a flight of stairs that was covered by a +curious-shaped glowing, pagoda-like structure. Signs and figures on the +tiled walls and supporting columns attested that we were in the Grand +Central station of the subway. Hundreds of people were on the midway +platform. + +An uptown express dashed up and halted. It was crowded. There was a +rush for it by a still larger crowd. + +Towering above every one there a magnificent, broad-shouldered, athletic +man leaped into the centre of the struggle. Men and women he seized in +either hand and hurled them like manikins toward the open gates of the +train. + +Now and then some passenger with a shred of soul and self-respect left +to him turned to offer remonstrance; but the blue uniform on the +towering figure, the fierce and conquering glare of his eye and the +ready impact of his ham-like hands glued together the lips that would +have spoken complaint. + +When the train was full, then he exhibited to all who might observe and +admire his irresistible genius as a ruler of men. With his knees, with +his elbows, with his shoulders, with his resistless feet he shoved, +crushed, slammed, heaved, kicked, flung, pounded the overplus of +passengers aboard. Then with the sounds of its wheels drowned by the +moans, shrieks, prayers, and curses of its unfortunate crew, the express +dashed away. + +"That's him. Ain't he a wonder?" said Kansas Bill admiringly. "That +tropical country wasn't the place for him. I wish the distinguished +traveller, writer, war correspondent, and playright, Richmond Hobson +Davis, could see him now. O'Connor ought to be dramatized." + + + + + + +THE ATAVISM OF JOHN TOM LITTLE BEAR + +[O. Henry thought this the best of the Jeff Peters stories, all the rest +of which are included in "The Gentle Grafter," except "Cupid a la Carte" +in the "Heart of the West." "The Atavism of John Tom Little Bear" +appeared in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE for July, 1903.] + +I saw a light in Jeff Peters's room over the Red Front Drug Store. I +hastened toward it, for I had not known that Jeff was in town. He is a +man of the Hadji breed, of a hundred occupations, with a story to tell +(when he will) of each one. + +I found Jeff repacking his grip for a run down to Florida to look at an +orange grove for which he had traded, a month before, his mining claim +on the Yukon. He kicked me a chair, with the same old humorous, profound +smile on his seasoned countenance. It had been eight months since we had +met, but his greeting was such as men pass from day to day. Time is +Jeff's servant, and the continent is a big lot across which he cuts to +his many roads. + +For a while we skirmished along the edges of unprofitable talk which +culminated in that unquiet problem of the Philippines. + +"All them tropical races," said Jeff, "could be run out better with +their own jockeys up. The tropical man knows what he wants. All he wants +is a season ticket to the cock-fights and a pair of Western Union +climbers to go up the bread-fruit tree. The Anglo-Saxon man wants him to +learn to conjugate and wear suspenders. He'll be happiest in his own +way." + +I was shocked. + +"Education, man," I said, "is the watchword. In time they will rise to +our standard of civilization. Look at what education has done for the +Indian." + +"O-ho!" sang Jeff, lighting his pipe (which was a good sign). "Yes, the +Indian! I'm looking. I hasten to contemplate the redman as a standard +bearer of progress. He's the same as the other brown boys. You can't +make an Anglo-Saxon of him. Did I ever tell you about the time my friend +John Tom Little Bear bit off the right ear of the arts of culture and +education and spun the teetotum back round to where it was when Columbus +was a little boy? I did not? + +"John Tom Little Bear was an educated Cherokee Indian and an old friend +of mine when I was in the Territories. He was a graduate of one of them +Eastern football colleges that have been so successful in teaching the +Indian to use the gridiron instead of burning his victims at the stake. +As an Anglo-Saxon, John Tom was copper-colored in spots. As an Indian, +he was one of the whitest men I ever knew. As a Cherokee, he was a +gentleman on the first ballot. As a ward of the nation, he was mighty +hard to carry at the primaries. + +"John Tom and me got together and began to make medicine--how to get up +some lawful, genteel swindle which we might work in a quiet way so as +not to excite the stupidity of the police or the cupidity of the larger +corporations. We had close upon $500 between us, and we pined to make it +grow, as all respectable capitalists do. + +"So we figured out a proposition which seems to be as honorable as a +gold mine prospectus and as profitable as a church raffle. And inside of +thirty days you find us swarming into Kansas with a pair of fluent +horses and a red camping wagon on the European plan. John Tom is Chief +Wish-Heap-Dough, the famous Indian medicine man and Samaritan Sachem of +the Seven Tribes. Mr. Peters is business manager and half owner. We +needed a third man, so we looked around and found J. Conyngham Binkly +leaning against the want column of a newspaper. This Binkly has a +disease for Shakespearian roles, and an hallucination about a 200 +nights' run on the New York stage. But he confesses that he never could +earn the butter to spread on his William S. roles, so he is willing to +drop to the ordinary baker's kind, and be satisfied with a 200-mile run +behind the medicine ponies. Besides Richard III, he could do +twenty-seven coon songs and banjo specialties, and was willing to cook, +and curry the horses. We carried a fine line of excuses for taking +money. One was a magic soap for removing grease spots and quarters from +clothes. One was a Sum-wah-tah, the great Indian Remedy made from a +prairie herb revealed by the Great Spirit in a dream to his favorite +medicine men, the great chiefs McGarrity and Siberstein, bottlers, +Chicago. And the other was a frivolous system of pick-pocketing the +Kansasters that had the department stores reduced to a decimal fraction. +Look ye! A pair of silk garters, a dream book, one dozen clothespins, a +gold tooth, and `When Knighthood Was in Flower' all wrapped up in a +genuine Japanese silkarina handkerchief and handed to the handsome lady +by Mr. Peters for the trivial sum of fifty cents, while Professor Binkly +entertains us in a three-minute round with the banjo. + +"'Twas an eminent graft we had. We ravaged peacefully through the State, +determined to remove all doubt as to why 'twas called bleeding Kansas. +John Tom Little Bear, in full Indian chief's costume, drew crowds away +from the parchesi sociables and government ownership conversaziones. +While at the football college in the East he had acquired quantities of +rhetoric and the art of calisthenics and sophistry in his classes, and +when he stood up in the red wagon and explained to the farmers, +eloquent, about chilblains and hyperaesthesia of the cranium, Jeff +couldn't hand out the Indian Remedy fast enough for 'em. + +"One night we was camped on the edge of a little town out west of +Salina. We always camped near a stream, and put up a little tent. +Sometimes we sold out of the Remedy unexpected, and then Chief +Wish-Heap-Dough would have a dream in which the Manitou commanded him to +fill up a few bottles of Sum-wah-tah at the most convenient place. 'Twas +about ten o'clock, and we'd just got in from a street performance. I was +in the tent with the lantern, figuring up the day's profits. John Tom +hadn't taken off his Indian make-up, and was sitting by the campfire +minding a fine sirloin steak in the pan for the Professor till he +finished his hair-raising scene with the trained horses. + +"All at once out of dark bushes comes a pop like a firecracker, and John +Tom gives a grunt and digs out of his bosom a little bullet that has +dented itself against his collar-bone. John Tom makes a dive in the +direction of the fireworks, and comes back dragging by the collar a kid +about nine or ten years young, in a velveteen suit, with a little +nickel-mounted rifle in his hand about as big as a fountain-pen. + +"'Here, you pappoose,' says John Tom, 'what are you gunning for with +that howitzer? You might hit somebody in the eye. Come out, Jeff, and +mind the steak. Don't let it burn, while I investigate this demon with +the pea shooter.' + +"'Cowardly redskin,' says the kid like he was quoting from a favorite +author. 'Dare to burn me at the stake and the paleface will sweep you +from the prairies like--like everything. Now, you lemme go, or I'll +tell mamma.' + +"John Tom plants the kid on a camp-stool, and sits down by him. 'Now, +tell the big chief,' he says, 'why you try to shoot pellets into your +Uncle John's system. Didn't you know it was loaded?' + +"'Are you a Indian?' asks the kid, looking up cute as +you please at John Tom's buckskin and eagle feathers. + +"'I am,' says John Tom. 'Well, then, that's why,' answers the boy, +swinging his feet. I nearly let the steak burn watching the nerve of +that youngster. + +"'O-ho!' says John Tom, 'I see. You're the Boy Avenger. And you've +sworn to rid the continent of the savage redman. Is that about the way +of it, son?' + +"The kid halfway nodded his head. And then he looked glum. 'Twas +indecent to wring his secret from his bosom before a single brave had +fallen before his parlor-rifle. + +"'Now, tell us where your wigwam is, pappoose,' says John Tom--'where +you live? Your mamma will be worrying about you being out so late. Tell +me, and I'll take you home.' + +"The kid grins. 'I guess not,' he says. 'I live thousands and thousands +of miles over there.' He gyrated his hand toward the horizon. 'I come on +the train,' he says, 'by myself. I got off here because the conductor +said my ticket had ex-pirated.' He looks at John Tom with sudden +suspicion 'I bet you ain't a Indian,' he says. 'You don't talk like a +Indian. You look like one, but all a Indian can say is "heap good" and +"paleface die." Say, I bet you are one of them make-believe Indians that +sell medicine on the streets. I saw one once in Quincy.' + +"'You never mind,' says John Tom, 'whether I'm a cigar-sign or a Tammany +cartoon. The question before the council is what's to be done with you. +You've run away from home. You've been reading Howells. You've disgraced +the profession of boy avengers by trying to shoot a tame Indian, and +never saying: "Die, dog of a redskin! You have crossed the path of the +Boy Avenger nineteen times too often." What do you mean by it?' + +"The kid thought for a minute. 'I guess I made a mistake,' he says. 'I +ought to have gone farther west. They find 'em wild out there in the +canyons.' He holds out his hand to John Tom, the little rascal. 'Please +excuse me, sir,' says he, 'for shooting at you. I hope it didn't hurt +you. But you ought to be more careful. When a scout sees a Indian in his +war-dress, his rifle must speak.' Little Bear give a big laugh with a +whoop at the end of it, and swings the kid ten feet high and sets him on +his shoulder, and the runaway fingers the fringe and the eagle feathers +and is full of the joy the white man knows when he dangles his heels +against an inferior race. It is plain that Little Bear and that kid are +chums from that on. The little renegade has already smoked the pipe of +peace with the savage; and you can see in his eye that he is figuring on +a tomahawk and a pair of moccasins, children's size. + +"We have supper in the tent. The youngster looks upon me and the +Professor as ordinary braves, only intended as a background to the camp +scene. When he is seated on a box of Sum-wah-tah, with the edge of the +table sawing his neck, and his mouth full of beefsteak, Little Bear +calls for his name. 'Roy,' says the kid, with a sirloiny sound to it. +But when the rest of it and his post-office address is referred to, he +shakes his head. 'I guess not,' he says. 'You'll send me back. I want to +stay with you. I like this camping out. At home, we fellows had a camp +in our back yard. They called me Roy, the Red Wolf! I guess that'll do +for a name. Gimme another piece of beefsteak, please.' + +"We had to keep that kid. We knew there was a hullabaloo about him +somewheres, and that Mamma, and Uncle Harry, and Aunt Jane, and the +Chief of Police were hot after finding his trail, but not another word +would he tell us. In two days he was the mascot of the Big Medicine +outfit, and all of us had a sneaking hope that his owners wouldn't turn +up. When the red wagon was doing business he was in it, and passed up +the bottles to Mr. Peters as proud and satisfied as a prince that's +abjured a two-hundred-dollar crown for a million-dollar parvenuess. Once +John Tom asked him something about his papa. 'I ain't got any papa,' he +says. 'He runned away and left us. He made my mamma cry. Aunt Lucy says +he's a shape.' 'A what?' somebody asks him. 'A shape,' says the kid; +`some kind of a shape--lemme see--oh, yes, a feendenuman shape. I +don't know what it means.' John Tom was for putting our brand on him, +and dressing him up like a little chief, with wampum and beads, but I +vetoes it. 'Somebody's lost that kid, is my view of it, and they may +want him. You let me try him with a few stratagems, and see if I can't +get a look at his visiting-card.' + +"So that night I goes up to Mr. Roy Blank by the camp-fire, and looks at +him contemptuous and scornful. 'Snickenwitzel!' says I, like the word +made me sick; 'Snickenwitzel! Bah! Before I'd be named Snickenwitzel!' + +"'What's the matter with you, Jeff?" says the kid, opening his eyes +wide. + +"'Snickenwitzel!' I repeats, and I spat, the word out. 'I saw a man +to-day from your town, and he told me your name. I'm not surprised you +was ashamed to tell it. Snickenwitzel! Whew!' + +"'Ah, here, now,' says the boy, indignant and wriggling all over, +'what's the matter with you? That ain't my name. It's Conyers. What's +the matter with you?' + +"'And that's not the worst of it,' I went on quick, keeping him hot and +not giving him time to think. 'We thought you was from a nice, +well-to-do family. Here's Mr. Little Bear, a chief of the Cherokees, +entitled to wear nine otter tails on his Sunday blanket, and Professor +Binkly, who plays Shakespeare and the banjo, and me, that's got hundreds +of dollars in that black tin box in the wagon, and we've got to be +careful about the company we keep. That man tells me your folks live +'way down in little old Hencoop Alley, where there are no sidewalks, and +the goats eat off the table with you.' + +"That kid was almost crying now. ''Taint so,' he splutters. 'He--he +don't know what he's talking about. We live on Poplar Av'noo. I don't +'sociate with goats. What's the matter with you?' + +"'Poplar Avenue,' says I, sarcastic. 'Poplar Avenue! That's a street to +live on! It only runs two blocks and then falls off a bluff. You can +throw a keg of nails the whole length of it. Don't talk to me about +Poplar Avenue.' + +"'It's--it's miles long,' says the kid. 'Our number's 862 and there's +lots of houses after that. What's the matter with--aw, you make me +tired, Jeff.' + +"'Well, well, now,' says I. 'I guess that man made a mistake. Maybe it +was some other boy he was talking about. If I catch him I'll teach him +to go around slandering people.' And after supper I goes up town and +telegraphs to Mrs. Conyers, 862 Poplar Avenue, Quincy, Ill., that the +kid is safe and sassy with us, and will be held for further orders. In +two hours an answer comes to hold him tight, and she'll start for him by +next train. + +"The next train was due at 6 p.m. the next day, and me and John Tom was +at the depot with the kid. You might scour the plains in vain for the +big Chief Wish-Heap-Dough. In his place is Mr. Little Bear in the human +habiliments of the Anglo-Saxon sect; and the leather of his shoes is +patented and the loop of his necktie is copyrighted. For these things +John Tom had grafted on him at college along with metaphysics and the +knockout guard for the low tackle. But for his complexion, which is some +yellowish, and the black mop of his straight hair, you might have +thought here was an ordinary man out of the city directory that +subscribes for magazines and pushes the lawn-mower in his shirt-sleeves +of evenings. + +"Then the train rolled in, and a little woman in a gray dress, with sort +of illuminating hair, slides off and looks around quick. And the Boy +Avenger sees her, and yells 'Mamma,' and she cries 'O!' and they meet in +a clinch, and now the pesky redskins can come forth from their caves on +the plains without fear any more of the rifle of Roy, the Red Wolf. Mrs. +Conyers comes up and thanks me an' John Tom without the usual +extremities you always look for in a woman. She says just enough, in a +way to convince, and there is no incidental music by the orchestra. I +made a few illiterate requisitions upon the art of conversation, at +which the lady smiles friendly, as if she had known me a week. And then +Mr. Little Bear adorns the atmosphere with the various idioms into which +education can fracture the wind of speech. I could see the kid's mother +didn't quite place John Tom; but it seemed she was apprised in his +dialects, and she played up to his lead in the science of making three +words do the work of one. + +"That kid introduced us, with some footnotes and explanations that made +things plainer than a week of rhetoric. He danced around, and punched us +in the back, and tried to climb John Tom's leg. 'This is John Tom, +mamma,' says he. 'He's a Indian. He sells medicine in a red wagon. I +shot him, but he wasn't wild. The other one's Jeff. He's a fakir, too. +Come on and see the camp where we live, won't you, mamma?' + +"It is plain to see that the life of the woman is in that boy. She has +got him again where her arms can gather him, and that's enough. She's +ready to do anything to please him. She hesitates the eighth of a second +and takes another look at these men. I imagine she says to herself about +John Tom, 'Seems to be a gentleman, if his hair don't curl.' And Mr. +Peters she disposes of as follows: 'No ladies' man, but a man who knows +a lady.' + +"So we all rambled down to the camp as neighborly as coming from a wake. +And there she inspects the wagon and pats the place with her hand where +the kid used to sleep, and dabs around her eyewinkers with her +handkerchief. And Professor Binkly gives us 'Trovatore' on one strong of +the banjo, and is about to slide off into Hamlet's monologue when one of +the horses gets tangled in his rope and he must go look after him, and +says something about 'foiled again.' + +"When it got dark me and John Tom walked back up to the Corn Exchange +Hotel, and the four of us had supper there. I think the trouble started +at that supper, for then was when Mr. Little Bear made an intellectual +balloon ascension. I held on to the tablecloth, and listened to him +soar. That redman, if I could judge, had the gift of information. He +took language, and did with it all a Roman can do with macaroni. His +vocal remarks was all embroidered over with the most scholarly verbs and +prefixes. And his syllables was smooth, and fitted nicely to the joints +of his idea. I thought I'd heard him talk before, but I hadn't. And it +wasn't the size of his words, but the way they come; and 'twasn't his +subjects, for he spoke of common things like cathedrals and football and +poems and catarrh and souls and freight rates and sculpture. Mrs. +Conyers understood his accents, and the elegant sounds went back and +forth between 'em. And now and then Jefferson D. Peters would intervene +a few shop-worn, senseless words to have the butter passed or another +leg of the chicken. + +"Yes, John Tom Little Bear appeared to be inveigled some in his bosom +about that Mrs. Conyers. She was of the kind that pleases. She had the +good looks and more, I'll tell you. You take one of these cloak models +in a big store. They strike you as being on the impersonal system. They +are adapted for the eye. What they run to is inches around and +complexion, and the art of fanning the delusion that the sealskin would +look just as well on the lady with the warts and the pocket-book. Now, +if one of them models was off duty, and you took it, and it would say +'Charlie' when you pressed it, and sit up at the table, why, then you +would have something similar to Mrs. Conyers. I could see how John Tom +could resist any inclination to hate that white squaw. + +"The lady and the kid stayed at the hotel. In the morning, they say, +they will start for home. Me and Little Bear left at eight o'clock, and +sold Indian Remedy on the courthouse square till nine. He leaves me and +the Professor to drive down to camp, while he stays up town. I am not +enamored with that plan, for it shows John Tom is uneasy in his +composures, and that leads to firewater, and sometimes to the green corn +dance and costs. Not often does Chief Wish-Heap-Dough get busy with the +firewater, but whenever he does there is heap much doing in the lodges +of the palefaces who wear blue and carry the club. + +"At half-past nine Professor Binkly is rolled in his quilt snoring in +blank verse, and I am sitting by the fire listening to the frogs. Mr. +Little Bear slides into camp and sits down against a tree. There is no +symptoms of firewater. + +"'Jeff,' says he, after a long time, 'a little boy came West to hunt +Indians.' + +"'Well, then?' says I, for I wasn't thinking as he was. + +"'And he bagged one,' says John Tom, 'and 'twas not with a gun, and he +never had on a velveteen suit of clothes in his life.' And then I began +to catch his smoke. + +"'I know it,' says I. 'And I'll bet you his pictures are on valentines, +and fool men are his game, red and white. + +"'You win on the red,' says John Tom, calm. 'Jeff, for how many ponies +do you think I could buy Mrs. Conyers?' + +"'Scandalous talk!' I replies. ''Tis not a paleface custom.' John Tom +laughs loud and bites into a cigar. 'No,' he answers; ''tis the savage +equivalent for the dollars of the white man's marriage settlement. Oh, I +know. There's an eternal wall between the races. If I could do it, Jeff, +I'd put a torch to every white college that a redman has ever set foot +inside. Why don't you leave us alone,' he says, 'to our own ghost-dances +and dog-feasts, and our dingy squaws to cook our grasshopper soup and +darn our moccasins?' + +"'Now, you sure don't mean disrespect to the perennial blossom entitled +education?' says I, scandalized, 'because I wear it in the bosom of my +own intellectual shirt-waist. I've had education,' says I, 'and never +took any harm from it.' + +"'You lasso us,' goes on Little Bear, not noticing my prose insertions, +'and teach us what is beautiful in literature and in life, and how to +appreciate what is fine in men and women. What have you done to me?' +says he. 'You've made me a Cherokee Moses. You've taught me to hate the +wigwams and love the white man's ways. I can look over into the promised +land and see Mrs. Conyers, but my place is--on the reservation.' + +"Little Bear stands up in his chief's dress, and laughs again. 'But, +white man Jeff,' he goes on, 'the paleface provides a recourse. 'Tis a +temporary one, but it gives a respite and the name of it is whiskey.' +And straight off he walks up the path to town again. 'Now,' says I in my +mind, 'may the Manitou move him to do only bailable things this night!' +For I perceive that John Tom is about to avail himself of the white +man's solace. + +"Maybe it was 10:30, as I sat smoking, when I hear pit-a-pats on the +path, and here comes Mrs. Conyers running, her hair twisted up any way, +and a look on her face that says burglars and mice and the +flour's-all-out rolled in one. 'Oh, Mr. Peters,' she calls out, as they +will, 'oh, oh!' I made a quick think, and I spoke the gist of it out +loud. 'Now,' says I, 'we've been brothers, me and that Indian, but I'll +make a good one of him in two minutes if--' + +"'No, no, she says, wild and cracking her knuckles, 'I haven't seen Mr. +Little Bear. 'Tis my--husband. He's stolen my boy. Oh,' she says, +'just when I had him back in my arms again! That heartless villain! +Every bitterness life knows,' she says, 'he's made me drink. My poor +little lamb, that ought to be warm in his bed, carried of by that +fiend!' + +"'How did all this happen?' I ask. 'Let's have the facts.' + +"'I was fixing his bed,' she explains, 'and Roy was playing on the hotel +porch and he drives up to the steps. I heard Roy scream, and ran out. My +husband had him in the buggy then. I begged him for my child. This is +what he gave me.' She turns her face to the light. There is a crimson +streak running across her cheek and mouth. 'He did that with his whip,' +she says. + +"'Come back to the hotel,' says I, 'and we'll see what can be done.' + +"On the way she tells me some of the wherefores. When he slashed her +with the whip he told her he found out she was coming for the kid, and +he was on the same train. Mrs. Conyers had been living with her brother, +and they'd watched the boy always, as her husband had tried to steal him +before. I judge that man was worse than a street railway promoter. It +seems he had spent her money and slugged her and killed her canary bird, +and told it around that she had cold feet. + +"At the hotel we found a mass meeting of five infuriated citizens +chewing tobacco and denouncing the outrage. Most of the town was asleep +by ten o'clock. I talks the lady some quiet, and tells her I will take +the one o'clock train for the next town, forty miles east, for it is +likely that the esteemed Mr. Conyers will drive there to take the cars. +'I don't know,' I tells her, 'but what he has legal rights; but if I +find him I can give him an illegal left in the eye, and tie him up for a +day or two, anyhow, on a disturbal of the peace proposition.' + +"Mrs. Conyers goes inside and cries with the landlord's wife, who is +fixing some catnip tea that will make everything all right for the poor +dear. The landlord comes out on the porch, thumbing his one suspender, +and says to me: + +"'Ain't had so much excitements in town since Bedford Steegall's wife +swallered a spring lizard. I seen him through the winder hit her with +the buggy whip, and everything. What's that suit of clothes cost you you +got on? 'Pears like we'd have some rain, don't it? Say, doc, that Indian +of yorn's on a kind of a whizz to-night, ain't he? He comes along just +before you did, and I told him about this here occurrence. He gives a +cur'us kind of a hoot, and trotted off. I guess our constable 'll have +him in the lock-up 'fore morning.' + +"I thought I'd sit on the porch and wait for the one o'clock train. I +wasn't feeling saturated with mirth. Here was John Tom on one of his +sprees, and this kidnapping business losing sleep for me. But then, I'm +always having trouble with other people's troubles. Every few minutes +Mrs. Conyers would come out on the porch and look down the road the way +the buggy went, like she expected to see that kid coming back on a white +pony with a red apple in his hand. Now, wasn't that like a woman? And +that brings up cats. 'I saw a mouse go in this hole,' says Mrs. Cat; +'you can go prize up a plank over there if you like; I'll watch this +hole.' + +"About a quarter to one o'clock the lady comes out again, restless, +crying easy, as females do for their own amusement, and she looks down +that road again and listens. 'Now, ma'am,' says I, 'there's no use +watching cold wheel-tracks. By this time they're halfway to--' 'Hush,' +she says, holding up her hand. And I do hear something coming +`flip-flap' in the dark; and then there is the awfulest war-whoop ever +heard outside of Madison Square Garden at a Buffalo Bill matinee. And up +the steps and on to the porch jumps the disrespectable Indian. The lamp +in the hall shines on him, and I fail to recognize Mr. J. T. Little +Bear, alumnus of the class of '91. What I see is a Cherokee brave, and +the warpath is what he has been travelling. Firewater and other things +have got him going. His buckskin is hanging in strings, and his feathers +are mixed up like a frizzly hen's. The dust of miles is on his +moccasins, and the light in his eye is the kind the aborigines wear. But +in his arms he brings that kid, his eyes half closed, with his little +shoes dangling and one hand fast around the Indian's collar. + +"'Pappoose!' says John Tom, and I notice that the flowers of the white +man's syntax have left his tongue. He is the original proposition in +bear's claws and copper color. 'Me bring,' says he, and he lays the kid +in his mother's arms. 'Run fifteen mile,' says John Tom--'Ugh! Catch +white man. Bring pappoose.' + +"The little woman is in extremities of gladness. She must wake up that +stir-up trouble youngster and hug him and make proclamation that he is +his mamma's own precious treasure. I was about to ask questions, but I +looked at Mr. Little Bear, and my eye caught the sight of something in +his belt. 'Now go to bed, ma'am,' says I, 'and this gadabout youngster +likewise, for there's no more danger, and the kidnapping business is not +what it was earlier in the night.' + +"I inveigled John Tom down to camp quick, and when he tumbled over +asleep I got that thing out of his belt and disposed of it where the eye +of education can't see it. For even the football colleges disapprove of +the art of scalp-taking in their curriculums. + +"It is ten o'clock next day when John Tom wakes up and looks around. I +am glad to see the nineteenth century in his eyes again. + +"'What was it, Jeff?" he asks. + +"'Heap firewater,' says I. + +"John Tom frowns, and thinks a little. 'Combined,' says he directly, +'with the interesting little physiological shake-up known as reversion +to type. I remember now. Have they gone yet?' + +"'On the 7:30 train,' I answers. + +"'Ugh!' says John Tom; 'better so. Paleface, bring big Chief +Wish-Heap-Dough a little bromo-seltzer, and then he'll take up the +redman's burden again.'" + + + + + + +HELPING THE OTHER FELLOW + +[Originally published in Munsey's Magazine, December, 1908.] + +"But can thim that helps others help thimselves!" + --Mulvaney. + +This is the story that William Trotter told me on the beach at Aguas +Frescas while I waited for the gig of the captain of the fruit steamer +Andador which was to take me abroad. Reluctantly I was leaving the Land +of Always Afternoon. William was remaining, and he favored me with a +condensed oral autobiography as we sat on the sands in the shade cast by +the Bodega Nacional. + +As usual, I became aware that the Man from Bombay had already written +the story; but as he had compressed it to an eight-word sentence, I have +become an expansionist, and have quoted his phrase above, with apologies +to him and best regards to Terence. + + +II + +"Don't you ever have a desire to go back to the land of derby hats and +starched collars?" I asked him. "You seem to be a handy man and a man of +action," I continued, "and I am sure I could find you a comfortable job +somewhere in the States." + +Ragged, shiftless, barefooted, a confirmed eater of the lotos, William +Trotter had pleased me much, and I hated to see him gobbled up by the +tropics. + +"I've no doubt you could," he said, idly splitting the bark from a +section of sugar-cane. "I've no doubt you could do much for me. If every +man could do as much for himself as he can for others, every country in +the world would be holding millenniums instead of centennials." + +There seemed to be pabulum in W. T.'s words. And then another idea came +to me. + +I had a brother in Chicopee Falls who owned manufactories--cotton, or +sugar, or A.A. sheetings, or something in the commercial line. lie was +vulgarly rich, and therefore reverenced art. The artistic temperament of +the family was monopolized at my birth. I knew that Brother James would +honor my slightest wish. I would demand from him a position in cotton, +sugar, or sheetings for William Trotter--something, say, at two hundred +a month or thereabouts. I confided my beliefs and made my large +propositions to William. He had pleased me much, and he was ragged. + +While we were talking, there was a sound of firing guns--four or five, +rattlingly, as if by a squad. The cheerful noise came from the direction +of the cuartel, which is a kind of makeshift barracks for the soldiers +of the republic. + +"Hear that?" said William Trotter. "Let me tell you about it. + +"A year ago I landed on this coast with one solitary dollar. I have the +same sum in my pocket to-day. I was second cook on a tramp fruiter; and +they marooned me here early one morning, without benefit of clergy, just +because I poulticed the face of the first mate with cheese omelette at +dinner. The fellow had kicked because I'd put horseradish in it instead +of cheese. + +"When they threw me out of the yawl into three feet of surf, I waded +ashore and sat down under a palm-tree. By and by a fine-looking white +man with a red face and white clothes, genteel as possible, but somewhat +under the influence, came and sat down beside me. + +"I had noticed there was a kind of a village back of the beach, and +enough scenery to outfit a dozen moving-picture shows. But I thought, of +course, it was a cannibal suburb, and I was wondering whether I was to +be served with carrots or mushrooms. And, as I say, this dressed-up man +sits beside me, and we become friends in the space of a minute or two. +For an hour we talked, and he told me all about it. + +"It seems that he was a man of parts, conscientiousness, and +plausibility, besides being educated and a wreck to his appetites. He +told me all about it. Colleges had turned him out, and distilleries had +taken him in. Did I tell you his name? It was Clifford Wainwright. I +didn't exactly catch the cause of his being cast away on that particular +stretch of South America; but I reckon it was his own business. I asked +him if he'd ever been second cook on a tramp fruiter, and he said no; so +that concluded my line of surmises. But he talked like the encyclopedia +from 'A--Berlin' to 'Trilo--Zyria.' And he carried a watch--a silver +arrangement with works, and up to date within twenty-four hours, anyhow. + +"'I'm pleased to have met you,' says Wainwright. 'I'm a devotee to the +great joss Booze; but my ruminating facilities are unrepaired,' says +he--or words to that effect. 'And I hate,' says he, 'to see fools trying +to run the world.' + +"'I never touch a drop,' says I, 'and there are many kinds of fools; and +the world runs on its own apex, according to science, with no meddling +from me.' + +"'I was referring,' says he, 'to the president of this republic. His +country is in a desperate condition. Its treasury is empty, it's on the +verge of war with Nicamala, and if it wasn't for the hot weather the +people would be starting revolutions in every town. Here is a nation,' +goes on Wainwright, 'on the brink of destruction. A man of intelligence +could rescue it from its impending doom in one day by issuing the +necessary edicts and orders. President Gomez knows nothing of +statesmanship or policy. Do you know Adam Smith?' + +"'Lemme see,' says I. 'There was a one-eared man named Smith in Fort +Worth, Texas, but I think his first name was--' + +"'I am referring to the political economist,' says Wainwright. + +"'S'mother Smith, then,' says I. 'The one I speak of never was +arrested.' + +"So Wainwright boils some more with indignation at the insensibility of +people who are not corpulent to fill public positions; and then he tells +me he is going out to the president's summer palace, which is four miles +from Aguas Frescas, to instruct him in the art of running steam-heated +republics. + +"'Come along with me, Trotter,' says he, 'and I'll show you what brains +can do.' + +"'Anything in it?' I asks. + +"'The satisfaction,' says he, 'of redeeming a country of two hundred +thousand population from ruin back to prosperity and peace.' + +"Great,' says I. 'I'll go with you. I'd prefer to eat a live broiled +lobster just now; but give me liberty as second choice if I can't be in +at the death.' + +"Wainwright and me permeates through the town, and he halts at a +rum-dispensary. + +"'Have you any money?' he asks. + +"'I have,' says I, fishing out my silver dollar. 'I always go about with +adequate sums of money.' + +"'Then we'll drink,' says Wainwright. + +"'Not me," says I. 'Not any demon ruin or any of its ramifications for +mine. It's one of my non-weaknesses.' + +"'It's my failing,' says he. 'What's your particular soft point?' + +"'Industry,' says I, promptly. 'I'm hard-working, diligent, industrious, +and energetic.' + +"'My dear Mr. Trotter,' says he, 'surely I've known you long enough to +tell you you are a liar. Every man must have his own particular +weakness, and his own particular strength in other things. Now, you will +buy me a drink of rum, and we will call on President Gomez.'" + + +III + +"Well, sir," Trotter went on, "we walks the four miles out, through a +virgin conservatory of palms and ferns and other roof-garden products, +to the president's summer White House. It was blue, and reminded you of +what you see on the stage in the third act, which they describe as 'same +as the first' on the programs. + +"There was more than fifty people waiting outside the iron fence that +surrounded the house and grounds. There was generals and agitators and +epergnes in gold-laced uniforms, and citizens in diamonds and Panama +hats--all waiting to get an audience with the Royal Five-Card Draw. And +in a kind of a summer-house in front of the mansion we could see a +burnt-sienna man eating breakfast out of gold dishes and taking his +time. I judged that the crowd outside had come out for their morning +orders and requests, and was afraid to intrude. + +"But C. Wainwright wasn't. The gate was open, and he walked inside and +up to the president's table as confident as a man who knows the head +waiter in a fifteen-cent restaurant. And I went with him, because I had +only seventy-five cents, and there was nothing else to do. + +"The Gomez man rises from his chair, and looks, colored man as he was, +like he was about to call out for corporal of the guard, post number +one. But Wainwright says some phrases to him in a peculiarly lubricating +manner; and the first thing you know we was all three of us seated at +the table, with coffee and rolls and iguana cutlets coming as fast as +about ninety peons could rustle 'em. + +"And then Wainwright begins to talk; but the president interrupts him. + +"'You Yankees,' says he, polite, 'assuredly take the cake for assurance, +I assure you'--or words to that effect. He spoke English better than you +or me. 'You've had a long walk,' says he, 'but it's nicer in the cool +morning to walk than to ride. May I suggest some refreshments?' says he. + +"'Rum,' says Wainwright. + +"'Gimme a cigar,' says I. + +"Well, sir, the two talked an hour, keeping the generals and equities +all in their good uniforms waiting outside the fence. And while I +smoked, silent, I listened to Clifford Wainwright making a solid +republic out of the wreck of one. I didn't follow his arguments with any +special collocation of international intelligibility; but he had Mr. +Gomez's attention glued and riveted. He takes out a pencil and marks the +white linen tablecloth all over with figures and estimates and +deductions. He speaks more or less disrespectfully of import and export +duties and custom-house receipts and taxes and treaties and budgets and +concessions and such truck that politics and government require; and +when he gets through the Gomez man hops up and shakes his hand and says +he's saved the country and the people. + +"'You shall be rewarded,' says the president. + +"'Might I suggest another--rum?' says Wainwright. + +"'Cigar for me--darker brand,' says I. + +"Well, sir, the president sent me and Wainwright back to the town in a +victoria hitched to two flea-bitten selling-platers--but the best the +country afforded. + +"I found out afterward that Wainwright was a regular beachcomber--the +smartest man on the whole coast, but kept down by rum. I liked him. + +"One day I inveigled him into a walk out a couple of miles from the +village, where there was an old grass hut on the bank of a little river. +While he was sitting on the grass, talking beautiful of the wisdom of +the world that he had learned in books, I took hold of him easy and tied +his hands and feet together with leather thongs that I had in my pocket. + +"'Lie still,' says I, 'and meditate on the exigencies and irregularities +of life till I get back.' + +"I went to a shack in Aguas Frescas where a mighty wise girl named +Timotea Carrizo lived with her mother. The girl was just about as nice +as you ever saw. In the States she would have been called a brunette; +but she was better than a brunette--I should say she was what you might +term an ecru shade. I knew her pretty well. I told her about my friend +Wainwright. She gave me a double handful of bark--calisaya, I think it +was--and some more herbs that I was to mix with it, and told me what to +do. I was to make tea of it and give it to him, and keep him from rum +for a certain time. And for two weeks I did it. You know, I liked +Wainwright. Both of us was broke; but Timotea sent us goat-meat and +plantains and tortillas every day; and at last I got the curse of drink +lifted from Clifford Wainwright. He lost his taste for it. And in the +cool of the evening him and me would sit on the roof of Timotea's +mother's hut, eating harmless truck like coffee and rice and stewed +crabs, and playing the accordion. + +"About that time President Gomez found out that the advice of C. +Wainwright was the stuff he had been looking for. The country was +pulling out of debt, and the treasury bad enough boodle in it for him to +amuse himself occasionally with the night-latch. The people were +beginning to take their two-hour siestas again every day--which was the +surest sign of prosperity. + +"So down from the regular capital he sends for Clifford Wainwright and +makes him his private secretary at twenty thousand Peru dollars a year. +Yes, sir--so much. Wainwright was on the water-wagon--thanks to me and +Timotea--and he was soon in clover with the government gang. Don't +forget what done it--calisaya bark with them other herbs mixed--make a +tea of it, and give a cupful every two hours. Try it yourself. It takes +away the desire. + +"As I said, a man can do a lot more for another party than he can for +himself. Wainwright, with his brains, got a whole country out of trouble +and on its feet; but what could he do for himself? And without any +special brains, but with some nerve and common sense, I put him on his +feet because I never had the weakness that he did--nothing but a cigar +for mine, thanks. And-----" + +Trotter paused. I looked at his tattered clothes and at his deeply +sunburnt, hard, thoughtful face. + +"Didn't Cartright ever offer to do anything for you?" I asked. + +"Wainwright," corrected Trotter. "Yes, he offered me some pretty good +jobs. But I'd have bad to leave Aguas Frescas; so I didn't take any of +'em up. Say, I didn't tell you much about that girl--Timotea. We rather +hit it off together. She was as good as you find 'em anywhere--Spanish, +mostly, with just a twist of lemon-peel on top. What if they did live in +a grass hut and went bare-armed? + +"A month ago," went on Trotter, "she went away. I don't know where to. +But--" + +"You'd better come back to the States," I insisted. "I can promise you +positively that my brother will give you a position in cotton, sugar, or +sheetings--I am not certain which." + +"I think she went back with her mother," said Trotter, "to the village +in the mountains that they come from. Tell me, what would this job you +speak of pay?" + +"Why," said I, hesitating over commerce, "I should say fifty or a +hundred dollars a month--maybe two hundred." + +"Ain't it funny," said Trotter, digging his toes in the sand, "what a +chump a man is when it comes to paddling his own canoe? I don't know. Of +course, I'm not making a living here. I'm on the bum. But--well, I wish +you could have seen that Timotea. Every man has his own weak spot." + +The gig from the Andador was coming ashore to take out the captain, +purser, and myself, the lone passenger. + +"I'll guarantee," said I confidently, "that my brother will pay you +seventy-five dollars a month." + +"All right, then," said William Trotter. "I'll--" + +But a soft voice called across the blazing sands. A girl, faintly +lemon-tinted, stood in the Calle Real and called. She was +bare-armed--but what of that? + +"It's her!" said William Trotter, looking. "She's come back! I'm +obliged; but I can't take the job. Thanks, just the same. Ain't it funny +how we can't do nothing for ourselves, but we can do wonders for the +other fellow? You was about to get me with your financial proposition; +but we've all got our weak points. Timotea's mine. And, say!" Trotter +had turned to leave, but he retraced the step or two that he had taken. +"I like to have left you without saying good-bye," said he. "It kind of +rattles you when they go away unexpected for a month and come back the +same way. Shake hands. So long! Say, do you remember them gunshots we +heard a while ago up at the cuartel? Well, I knew what they was, but I +didn't mention it. It was Clifford Wainwright being shot by a squad of +soldiers against a stone wall for giving away secrets of state to that +Nicamala republic Oh, yes, it was rum that did it. He backslided and got +his. I guess we all have our weak points, and can't do much toward +helping ourselves. Mine's waiting for me. I'd have liked to have that +job with your brother, but--we've all got our weak points. So long!" + + +IV + +A big black Carib carried me on his back through the surf to the ship's +boat. On the way the purser handed me a letter that he had brought for +me at the last moment from the post-office in Aguas Frescas. It was from +my brother. He requested me to meet him at the St. Charles Hotel in New +Orleans and accept a position with his house--in either cotton, sugar, +or sheetings, and with five thousand dollars a year as my salary. + +When I arrived at the Crescent City I hurried away--far away from the +St. Charles to a dim chambre garnie in Bienville Street. And there, +looking down from my attic window from time to time at the old, yellow, +absinthe house across the street, I wrote this story to buy my bread and +butter. + +"Can thim that helps others help thimselves?" + + + + + +THE MARIONETTES + +[Originally published in The Black Cat for April, 1902, +The Short Story Publishing Co.] + + +The policeman was standing at the corner of Twenty-fourth Street and a +prodigiously dark alley near where the elevated railroad crosses the +street. The time was two o'clock in the morning; the outlook a stretch +of cold, drizzling, unsociable blackness until the dawn. + +A man, wearing a long overcoat, with his hat tilted down in front, and +carrying something in one hand, walked softly but rapidly out of the +black alley. The policeman accosted him civilly, but with the assured +air that is linked with conscious authority. The hour, the alley's musty +reputation, the pedestrian's haste, the burden he carried--these easily +combined into the "suspicious circumstances" that required illumination +at the officer's hands. + +The "suspect" halted readily and tilted back his hat, exposing, in the +flicker of the electric lights, an emotionless, smooth countenance with +a rather long nose and steady dark eyes. Thrusting his gloved hand into +a side pocket of his overcoat, he drew out a card and handed it to the +policeman. Holding it to catch the uncertain light, the officer read the +name "Charles Spencer James, M. D." The street and number of the address +were of a neighborhood so solid and respectable as to subdue even +curiosity. The policeman's downward glance at the article carried in the +doctor's hand--a handsome medicine case of black leather, with small +silver mountings--further endorsed the guarantee of the card. + +"All right, doctor," said the officer, stepping aside, with an air of +bulky affability. "Orders are to be extra careful. Good many burglars +and hold-ups lately. Bad night to be out. Not so cold, but--clammy." + +With a formal inclination of his head, and a word or two corroborative +of the officer's estimate of the weather, Doctor James continued his +somewhat rapid progress. Three times that night had a patrolman accepted +his professional card and the sight of his paragon of a medicine case as +vouchers for his honesty of person and purpose. Had any one of those +officers seen fit, on the morrow, to test the evidence of that card he +would have found it borne out by the doctor's name on a handsome +doorplate, his presence, calm and well dressed, in his well-equipped +office--provided it were not too early, Doctor James being a late +riser--and the testimony of the neighborhood to his good citizenship, +his devotion to his family, and his success as a practitioner the two +years he had lived among them. + +Therefore, it would have much surprised any one of those zealous +guardians of the peace could they have taken a peep into that immaculate +medicine case Upon opening it, the first article to be seen would have +been an elegant set of the latest conceived tools used by the "box man," +as the ingenious safe burglar now denominates himself. Specially +designed and constructed were the implements--the short but powerful +"jimmy," the collection of curiously fashioned keys, the blued drills +and punches of the finest temper--capable of eating their way into +chilled steel as a mouse eats into a cheese, and the clamps that fasten +like a leech to the polished door of a safe and pull out the combination +knob as a dentist extracts a tooth. In a little pouch in the inner side +of the "medicine" case was a four-ounce vial of nitroglycerine, now half +empty. Underneath the tools was a mass of crumpled banknotes and a few +handfuls of gold coin, the money, altogether, amounting to eight hundred +and thirty dollars. + +To a very limited circle of friends Doctor James was known as "The Swell +'Greek.'" Half of the mysterious term was a tribute to his cool and +gentlemanlike manners; the other half denoted, in the argot of the +brotherhood, the leader, the planner, the one who, by the power and +prestige of his address and position, secured the information upon which +they based their plans and desperate enterprises. + +Of this elect circle the other members were Skitsie Morgan and Gum +Decker, expert "box men," and Leopold Pretzfelder, a jeweller downtown, +who manipulated the "sparklers" and other ornaments collected by the +working trio. All good and loyal men, as loose-tongued as Memnon and as +fickle as the North Star. + +That night's work had not been considered by the firm to have yielded +more than a moderate repayal for their pains. An old-style two-story +side-bolt safe in the dingy office of a very wealthy old-style dry-goods +firm on a Saturday night should have excreted more than twenty-five +hundred dollars. But that was all they found, and they had divided it, +the three of them, into equal shares upon the spot, as was their custom. +Ten or twelve thousand was what they expected. But one of the +proprietors had proved to be just a trifle too old-style. Just after +dark he had carried home in a shirt box most of the funds on hand. + +Doctor James proceeded up Twenty-fourth Street, which was, to all +appearance, depopulated. Even the theatrical folk, who affect this +district as a place of residence, were long since abed. The drizzle had +accumulated upon the street; puddles of it among the stones received the +fire of the arc lights, and returned it, shattered into a myriad liquid +spangles. A captious wind, shower-soaked and chilling, coughed from the +laryngeal flues between the houses. + +As the practitioner's foot struck even with the corner of a tall brick +residence of more pretension than its fellows the front door popped +open, and a bawling negress clattered down the steps to the pavement. +Some medley of words came from her mouth, addressed, like as not, to +herself--the recourse of her race when alone and beset by evil. She +looked to be one of that old vassal class of the South--voluble, +familiar, loyal, irrepressible; her person pictured it--fat, neat, +aproned, kerchiefed. + +This sudden apparition, spewed from the silent house, reached the bottom +of the steps as Doctor James came opposite. Her brain transferring its +energies from sound to sight, she ceased her clamor and fixed her +pop-eyes upon the case the doctor carried. + +"Bress de Lawd!" was the benison the sight drew from her. "Is you a +doctor, suh?" + +"Yes, I am a physician," said Doctor James, pausing. + +"Den fo' God's sake come and see Mister Chandler, suh. He done had a fit +or sump'n. He layin' jist like he wuz dead. Miss Amy sont me to git a +doctor. Lawd knows whar old Cindy'd a skeared one up from, if you, suh, +hadn't come along. Ef old Mars' knowed one ten-hundredth part of dese +doin's dey'd be shootin' gwine on, suh--pistol shootin'--leb'm feet +marked off on de ground, and ev'ybody a-duellin'. And dat po' lamb, Miss +Amy----" + +"Lead the way," said Doctor James, setting his foot upon the step, "if +you want me as a doctor. As an auditor I'm not open to engagements." + +The negress preceded him into the house and up a flight of thickly +carpeted stairs. Twice they came to dimly lighted branching hallways. At +the second one the now panting conductress turned down a hall, stopping +at a door and opening it. + +"I done brought de doctor, Miss Amy." + +Doctor James entered the room, and bowed slightly to a young lady +standing by the side of a bed. He set his medicine case upon a chair, +removed his overcoat, throwing it over the case and the back of the +chair, an advanced with quiet self-possession to the bedside. + +There lay a man, sprawling as he had fallen--a man dressed richly in the +prevailing mode, with only his shoe removed; lying relaxed, and as still +as the dead. + +There emanated from Doctor James an aura of calm force and reserve +strength that was as manna in the desert to the weak and desolate among +his patrons. Always had women, especially, been attracted by something +in his sick-room manner. It was not the indulgent suavity of the +fashionable healer, but a manner of poise, of sureness, of ability to +overcome fate, of deference and protection and devotion. There was an +exploring magnetism in his steadfast, luminous brown eves; a latent +authority in the impassive, even priestly, tranquillity of his smooth +countenance that outwardly fitted him for the part of confidant and +consoler. Sometimes, at his first professional visit, women would tell +him where they hid their diamonds at night from the burglars. + +With the ease of much practice, Doctor James's unroving eyes estimated +the order and quality of the room's furnishings. The appointments were +rich and costly. The same glance had secured cognizance of the lady's +appearance. She was small and scarcely past twenty. Her face possessed +the title to a winsome prettiness, now obscured by (you would say) +rather a fixed melancholy than the more violent imprint of a sudden +sorrow. Upon her forehead, above one eyebrow, was a livid bruise, +suffered, the physician's eye told him, within the past six hours. + +Doctor James's fingers went to the man's wrist. His almost vocal eyes +questioned the lady. + +"I am Mrs. Chandler," she responded, speaking with the plaintive +Southern slur and intonation. "My husband was taken suddenly ill about +ten minutes before you came. He has had attacks of heart trouble +before--some of them were very bad." His clothed state and the late +hour seemed to prompt her to further explanation. "He had been out late; +to--a supper, I believe." + +Doctor James now turned his attention to his patient. In whichever of +his "professions" he happened to be engaged he was wont to honor the +"case" or the "job" with his whole interest. + +The sick man appeared to be about thirty. His countenance bore a look of +boldness and dissipation, but was not without a symmetry of feature and +the fine lines drawn by a taste and indulgence in humor that gave the +redeeming touch. There was an odor of spilled wine about his clothes. + +The physician laid back his outer garments, and then, with a penknife, +slit the shirt-front from collar to waist. The obstacles cleared, he +laid his ear to the heart and listened intently. + +"Mitral regurgitation?" he said, softly, when he rose. The words ended +with the rising inflection of uncertainty. Again he listened long; and +this time he said, "Mitral insufficiency," with the accent of an assured +diagnosis. + +"Madam," he began, in the reassuring tones that had so often allayed +anxiety, "there is a probability--" As he slowly turned his head to face +the lady, he saw her fall, white and swooning, into the arms of the old +negress. + +"Po' lamb! po' lamb! Has dey done killed Aunt Cindy's own blessed child? +May de Lawd'stroy wid his wrath dem what stole her away; what break dat +angel heart; what left--" + +"Lift her feet," said Doctor James, assisting to support the drooping +form. "Where is her room? She must be put to bed." + +"In here, suh." The woman nodded her kerchiefed head toward a door. +"Dat's Miss Amy's room." + +They carried her in there, and laid her on the bed. Her pulse was faint, +but regular. She passed from the swoon, without recovering +consciousness, into a profound slumber. + +"She is quite exhausted," said the physician. "Sleep is a good remedy. +When she wakes, give her a toddy--with an egg in it, if she can take +it. How did she get that bruise upon her forehead?" + +"She done got a lick there, suh. De po' lamb fell--No, suh"--the old +woman's racial mutability swept her into a sudden flare of indignation +--"old Cindy ain't gwineter lie for dat debble. He done it, suh. May de +Lawd wither de hand what--dar now! Cindy promise her sweet lamb she +ain't gwine tell. Miss Amy got hurt, suh, on de head." + +Doctor James stepped to a stand where a handsome lamp burned, and turned +the flame low. + +"Stay here with your mistress," he ordered, "and keep quiet so she will +sleep. If she wakes, give her the toddy. If she grows any weaker, let me +know. There is something strange about it." + +"Dar's mo' strange t'ings dan dat 'round here," began the negress, but +the physician hushed her in a seldom employed peremptory, concentrated +voice with which he had often allayed hysteria itself. He returned to +the other room, closing the door softly behind him. The man on the bed +had not moved, but his eyes were open. His lips seemed to form words. +Doctor James bent his head to listen. "The money! the money!" was what +they were whispering. + +"Can you understand what I say?" asked the doctor, speaking low, but +distinctly. + +The head nodded slightly. + +"I am a physician, sent for by your wife. You are Mr. Chandler, I am +told. You are quite ill. You must not excite or distress yourself at +all." + +The patient's eyes seemed to beckon to him. The doctor stooped to catch +the same faint words. + +"The money--the twenty thousand dollars." + +"Where is this money?--in the bank?" + +The eyes expressed a negative. "Tell her"--the whisper was growing +fainter--"the twenty thousand dollars--her money"--his eyes wandered +about the room. + +"You have placed this money somewhere?"--Doctor James's voice was +toiling like a siren's to conjure the secret from the man's failing +intelligence--"Is it in this room?" + +He thought he saw a fluttering assent in the dimming eyes. The pulse +under his fingers was as fine and small as a silk thread. + +There arose in Doctor James's brain and heart the instincts of his other +profession. Promptly, as he acted in everything, he decided to learn the +whereabouts of this money, and at the calculated and certain cost of a +human life. + +Drawing from his pocket a little pad of prescription blanks, he +scribbled upon one of them a formula suited, according to the best +practice, to the needs of the sufferer. Going to the door of the inner +room, he softly called the old woman, gave her the prescription, and +bade her take it to some drug store and fetch the medicine. + +When she had gone, muttering to herself, the doctor stepped to the +bedside of the lady. She still slept soundly; her pulse was a little +stronger; her forehead was cool, save where the inflammation of the +bruise extended, and a slight moisture covered it. Unless disturbed, she +would yet sleep for hours. He found the key in the door, and locked it +after him when he returned. + +Doctor James looked at his watch. He could call half an hour his own, +since before that time the old woman could scarcely return from her +mission. Then he sought and found water in a pitcher and a glass +tumbler. Opening his medicine case he took out the vial containing the +nitroglycerine--"the oil," as his brethren of the brace-and-bit term +it. + +One drop of the faint yellow, thickish liquid he let fall in the +tumbler. He took out his silver hypodermic syringe case, and screwed the +needle into its place, Carefully measuring each modicum of water in the +graduated glass barrel of the syringe, he diluted the one drop with +nearly half a tumbler of water. + +Two hours earlier that night Doctor James had, with that syringe, +injected the undiluted liquid into a hole drilled in the lock of a safe, +and had destroyed, with one dull explosion, the machinery that +controlled the movement of the bolts. He now purposed, with the same +means, to shiver the prime machinery of a human being--to rend its +heart--and each shock was for the sake of the money to follow. + +The same means, but in a different guise. Whereas, that was the giant in +its rude, primary dynamic strength, this was the courtier, whose no less +deadly arms were concealed by velvet and lace. For the liquid in the +tumbler and in the syringe that the physician carefully filled was now a +solution of glonoin, the most powerful heart stimulant known to medical +science. Two ounces had riven the solid door of the iron safe; with one +fiftieth part of a minim he was now about to still forever the intricate +mechanism of a human life. + +But not immediately. It was not so intended. First there would be a +quick increase of vitality; a powerful impetus given to every organ and +faculty. The heart would respond bravely to the fatal spur; the blood in +the veins return more rapidly to its source. + +But, as Doctor James well knew, over-stimulation in this form of heart +disease means death, as sure as by a rifle shot. When the clogged +arteries should suffer congestion from the increased flow of blood +pumped into them by the power of the burglar's "oil," they would rapidly +become "no thoroughfare," and the fountain of life would cease to flow. + +The physician bared the chest of the unconscious Chandler. Easily and +skilfully he injected, subcutaneously, the contents of the syringe into +the muscles of the region over the heart. True to his neat habits in +both professions, he next carefully dried his needle and re-inserted the +fine wire that threaded it when not in use. + +In three minutes Chandler opened his eyes, and spoke, in a voice faint +but audible, inquiring who attended upon him. Doctor James again +explained his presence there. + +"Where is my wife?" asked the patient. + +"She is asleep--from exhaustion and worry," said the doctor. "I would +not awaken her, unless--" + +"It isn't--necessary." Chandler spoke with spaces between his words +caused by his short breath that some demon was driving too fast. "She +wouldn't--thank you to disturb her--on my--account." + +Doctor James drew a chair to the bedside. Conversation must not be +squandered. + +"A few minutes ago," he began, in the grave, candid tones of his other +profession, "you were trying to tell me something regarding some money. +I do not seek your confidence, but it is my duty to advise you that +anxiety and worry will work against your recovery. If you have any +communication to make about this--to relieve your mind about +this--twenty thousand dollars, I think was the amount you mentioned--you +would better do so." + +Chandler could not turn his head, but he rolled his eyes in the +direction of the speaker. + +"Did I--say where this--money is?" + +"No," answered the physician. "I only inferred, from your scarcely +intelligible words, that you felt a solicitude concerning its safety. If +it is in this room--" + +Doctor James paused. Did he only seem to perceive a flicker of +understanding, a gleam of suspicion upon the ironical features of his +patient? Had he seemed too eager? Had he said too much? Chandler's next +words restored his confidence. + +"Where--should it be," he gasped, "but in--the safe--there?" + +With his eyes he indicated a corner of the room, where now, for the +first time, the doctor perceived a small iron safe, half-concealed by +the trailing end of a window curtain. + +Rising, he took the sick man's wrist. His pulse was beating in great +throbs, with ominous intervals between. + +"Lift your arm," said Doctor James. + +"You know--I can't move, Doctor." + +The physician stepped swiftly to the hall door, opened it, and listened. +All was still. Without further circumvention he went to the safe, and +examined it. Of a primitive make and simple design, it afforded little +more security than protection against light-fingered servants. To his +skill it was a mere toy, a thing of straw and paste-board. The money +was as good as in his hands. With his clamps he could draw the knob, +punch the tumblers and open the door in two minutes. Perhaps, in another +way, he might open it in one. + +Kneeling upon the floor, he laid his ear to the combination plate, and +slowly turned the knob. As he had surmised, it was locked at only a "day +com."--upon one number. His keen ear caught the faint warning click as +the tumbler was disturbed; he used the clue--the handle turned. He swung +the door wide open. + +The interior of the safe was bare--not even a scrap of paper rested +within the hollow iron cube. + +Doctor James rose to his feet and walked back to the bed. + +A thick dew had formed upon the dying man's brow, but there was a +mocking, grim smile on his lips and in his eyes. + +"I never--saw it before," he said, painfully, "medicine and--burglary +wedded! Do you--make the--combination pay--dear Doctor?" + +Than that situation afforded, there was never a more rigorous test of +Doctor James's greatness. Trapped by the diabolic humor of his victim +into a position both ridiculous and unsafe, he maintained his dignity as +well as his presence of mind. Taking out his watch, he waited for the +man to die. + +"You were--just a shade--too--anxious--about that money. But it never +was--in any danger--from you, dear Doctor. It's safe. Perfectly safe. +It's all--in the hands--of the bookmakers. Twenty--thousand--Amy's +money. I played it at the races--lost every--cent of it. I've been a +pretty bad boy, Burglar--excuse me--Doctor, but I've been a square +sport. I don't think--I ever met--such an--eighteen-carat rascal as you +are, Doctor--excuse me--Burglar, in all my rounds. Is it contrary--to +the ethics--of your--gang, Burglar, to give a victim--excuse +me--patient, a drink of water?" + +Doctor James brought him a drink. He could scarcely swallow it. The +reaction from the powerful drug was coming in regular, intensifying +waves. But his moribund fancy must have one more grating fling. + +"Gambler--drunkard--spendthrift--I've been those, but--a +doctor-burglar!" + +The physician indulged himself to but one reply to the other's caustic +taunts. Bending low to catch Chandler's fast crystallizing gaze, he +pointed to the sleeping lady's door with a gesture so stern and +significant that the prostrate man half-lifted his head, with his +remaining strength, to see. He saw nothing; but he caught the cold words +of the doctor--the last sounds hie was to hear: + +"I never yet--struck a woman." + +It were vain to attempt to con such men. There is no curriculum that can +reckon with them in its ken. Thev are offshoots from the types whereof +men say, "He will do this," or "He will do that." We only know that they +exist; and that we can observe them, and tell one another of their bare +performances, as children watch and speak of the marionettes. + +Yet it were a droll study in egoism to consider these two--one an +assassin and a robber, standing above his victim; the other baser in his +offences, if a lesser law-breaker, lying, abhorred, in the house of the +wife he had persecuted, spoiled, and smitten, one a tiger, the other a +dog-wolf--to consider each of them sickening at the foulness of the +other; and each flourishing out of the mire of his manifest guilt his +own immaculate standard--of conduct, if not of honor. + +The one retort of Doctor James must have struck home to the other's +remaining shreds of shame and manhood, for it proved the coup de grace. +A deep blush suffused his face-an ignominous rosa mortis; the +respiration ceased, and, with scarcely a tremor, Chandler expired. + +Close following upon his last breath came the negress, bringing the +medicine. With a hand gently pressing upon the closed eyelids, Doctor +James told her of the end. Not grief, but a hereditary rapprochement +with death in the abstract, moved her to a dismal, watery snuffling, +accompanied by her usual jeremiad. + +"Dar now! It's in de Lawd's hands. He am de jedge ob de transgressor, +and de suppo't of dem in distress. He gwine hab suppo't us now. Cindy +done paid out de last quarter fer dis bottle of physic, and it nebber +come to no use." + +"Do I understand," asked Doctor James, "that Mrs. Chandler has no +money?" + +"Money, suh? You know what make Miss Amy fall down and so weak? +Stahvation, sub. Nothin' to eat in dis house but some crumbly crackers +in three days. Dat angel sell her finger rings and watch mont's ago. Dis +fine house, suh, wid de red cyarpets and shiny bureaus, it's all hired; +and de man talkin' scan'lous about de rent. Dat debble--'scuse me, +Lawd--he done in Yo' hands fer jedgment, now--he made way wid +everything." + +The physician's silence encouraged her to continue. The history that he +gleaned from Cindy's disordered monologue was an old one, of illusion, +wilfulness, disaster, cruelty and pride. Standing out from the blurred +panorama of her gabble were little clear pictures--an ideal home in the +far South; a quickly repented marriage; an unhappy season, full of +wrongs and abuse, and, of late, an inheritance of money that promised +deliverance; its seizure and waste by the dog-wolf during a two months' +absence, and his return in the midst of a scandalous carouse. +Unobtruded, but visible between every line, ran a pure white thread +through the smudged warp of the story--the simple, all-enduring, sublime +love of the old negress, following her mistress unswervingly through +everything to the end. + +When at last she paused, the physician spoke, asking if the house +contained whiskey or liquor of any sort. There was, the old woman +informed him, half a bottle of brandy left in the sideboard by the +dog-wolf. + +"Prepare a toddy as I told you," said Doctor James. "Wake your mistress; +have her drink it, and tell her what has happened." + +Some ten minutes afterward, Mrs. Chandler entered, supported by old +Cindy's arm. She appeared to be a little stronger since her sleep and +the stimulant she had taken. Doctor James had covered, with a sheet, the +form upon the bed. + +The lady turned her mournful eyes once, with a half-frightened look, +toward it, and pressed closer to her loyal protector. Her eyes were dry +and bright. Sorrow seemed to have done its utmost with her. The fount of +tears was dried; feeling itself paralyzed. + +Doctor James was standing near the table, his overcoat donned, his hat +and medicine case in his hand. His face was calm and impassive--practice +had inured him to the sight of human suffering. His lambent brown eyes +alone expressed a discreet professional sympathy. + +He spoke kindly and briefly, stating that, as the hour was late, and +assistance, no doubt, difficult to procure, he would himself send the +proper persons to attend to the necessary finalities. + +"One matter, in conclusion," said the doctor, pointing to the safe with +its still wide-open door. "Your husband, Mrs. Chandler, toward the end, +felt that he could not live; and directed me to open that safe, giving +me the number upon which the combination is set. In case you may need to +use it, you will remember that the number is forty-one. Turn several +times to the right; then to the left once; stop at forty-one. He would +not permit me to waken you, though he knew the end was near. + +"In that safe he said he had placed a sum of money--not large--but +enough to enable you to carry out his last request. That was that you +should return to your old home, and, in after days, when time shall have +made it easier, forgive his many sins against you." + +He pointed to the table, where lay an orderly pile of banknotes, +surmounted by two stacks of gold coins. + +"The money is there--as he described it--eight hundred and thirty +dollars. I beg to leave my card with you, in case I can be of any +service later on." + +So, he had thought of her--and kindly--at the last! So late! And yet the +lie fanned into life one last spark of tenderness where she had thought +all was turned to ashes and dust. She cried aloud "Rob! Rob!" She +turned, and, upon the ready bosom of her true servitor, diluted her +grief in relieving tears. It is well to think, also, that in the years +to follow, the murderer's falsehood shone like a little star above the +grave of love, comforting her, and gaining the forgiveness that is good +in itself, whether asked for or no. + +Hushed and soothed upon the dark bosom, like a child, by a crooning, +babbling sympathy, at last she raised her head--but the doctor was gone. + + + + + +THE MARQUIS AND MISS SALLY + +[Originally published in EVERYBODY'S MAGAZINE, June, 1903.] + + +Without knowing it, Old Bill Bascom had the honor of being overtaken by +fate the same day with the Marquis of Borodale. + +The Marquis lived in Regent Square, London. Old Bill lived on Limping +Doe Creek, Hardeman County, Texas. The cataclysm that engulfed the +Marquis took the form of a bursting bubble known as the Central and +South American Mahogany and Caoutchouc Monopoly. Old Bill's Nemesis was +in the no less perilous shape of a band of civilized Indian cattle +thieves from the Territory who ran off his entire herd of four hundred +head, and shot old Bill dead as he trailed after them. To even up the +consequences of the two catastrophes, the Marquis, as soon as he found +that all he possessed would pay only fifteen shillings on the pound of +his indebtedness, shot himself. + +Old Bill left a family of six motherless sons and daughters, who found +themselves without even a red steer left to eat, or a red cent to buy +one with. + +The Marquis left one son, a young man, who had come to the States and +established a large and well-stocked ranch in the Panhandle of Texas. +When this young man learned the news he mounted his pony and rode to +town. There he placed everything he owned except his horse, saddle, +Winchester, and fifteen dollars in his pockets, in the hands of his +lawyers, with instructions to sell and forward the proceeds to London to +be applied upon the payment of his father's debts. Then he mounted his +pony and rode southward. + +One day, arriving about the same time, but by different trails, two +young chaps rode up to the Diamond-Cross ranch, on the Little Piedra, +and asked for work. Both were dressed neatly and sprucely in cowboy +costume. One was a straight-set fellow, with delicate, handsome +features, short, brown hair, and smooth face, sunburned to a golden +brown. The other applicant was stouter and broad-shouldered, with fresh, +red complexion, somewhat freckled, reddish, curling hair, and a rather +plain face, made attractive by laughing eyes and a pleasant mouth. + +The superintendent of the Diamond-Cross was of the opinion that he could +give them work. In fact, word had reached him that morning that the camp +cook--a most important member of the outfit--had straddled his broncho +and departed, being unable to withstand the fire of fun and practical +jokes of which he was, ex officio, the legitimate target. + +"Can either of you cook?" asked the superintendent. + +"I can," said the reddish-haired fellow, promptly. "I've cooked in camp +quite a lot. I'm willing to take the job until you've got something else +to offer." + +"Now, that's the way I like to hear a man talk," said the +superintendent, approvingly. "I'll give you a note to Saunders, and +he'll put you to work." + +Thus the names of John Bascom and Charles Norwood were added to the +pay-roll of the Diamond-Cross. The two left for the round-up camp +immediately after dinner. Their directions were simple, but sufficient: +"Keep down the arroyo for fifteen miles till you get there." Both being +strangers from afar, young, spirited, and thus thrown together by chance +for a long ride, it is likely that the comradeship that afterward +existed so strongly between them began that afternoon as they meandered +along the little valley of the Canada Verda. + +They reached their destination just after sunset. The main camp of the +round-up was comfortably located on the bank of a long water-hole, under +a fine mott of timber. A number of small A tents pitched upon grassy +spots and the big wall tent for provisions showed that the camp was +intended to be occupied for a considerable length of time. + +The round-up had ridden in but a few moments before, hungry and tired, +to a supperless camp. The boys were engaged in an emulous display of +anathemas supposed to fit the case of the absconding cook. While they +were unsaddling and hobbling their ponies, the newcomer rode in and +inquired for Pink Saunders. The boss ol the round-up came forth and was +given the superintendent's note. + +Pink Saunders, though a boss during working hours, was a humorist in +camp, where everybody, from cook to superintendent, is equal. After +reading the note he waved his hand toward the camp and shouted, +ceremoniously, at the top of his voice, "Gentlemen, allow me to present +to you the Marquis and Miss Sally." + +At the words both the new arrivals betray confusion. The newly employed +cook started, with a surprised look on his face, but, immediately +recollecting that "Miss Sally" is the generic name for the male cook in +every west Texas cow camp, he recovered his composure with a grin at his +own expense. + +His companion showed little less discomposure, even turning angrily, +with a bitten lip, and reaching for his saddle pommel, as if to remount +his pony; but "Miss Sally" touched his arm and said, laughingly, "Come +now. Marquis; that was quite a compliment from Saunders. It's that +distinguished air of yours and aristocratic nose that made him call you +that." + +He began to unsaddle, and the Marquis, restored to equanimity, followed +his example. Rolling up his sleeves, Miss Sally sprang for the grub +wagon, shouting: "I'm the new cook b'thunder! Some of you chaps rustle a +little wood for a fire, and I'll guarantee you a hot square meal inside +of thirty minutes." Miss Sally's energy and good-humor, as he ransacked +the grub wagon for coffee, flour, and bacon, won the good opinion of the +camp instantly. + +And also, in days following, the Marquis, after becoming better +acquainted, proved to be a cheerful, pleasant fellow, always a little +reserved, and taking no part in the rough camp frolics; but the boys +gradually came to respect this reserve--which fitted the title Saunders +had given him--and even to like him for it. Saunders had assigned him to +a place holding the herd during the cuttings. He proved to be a skilful +rider and as good with the lariat or in the branding pen as most of +them. + +The Marquis and Miss Sally grew to be quite close comrades. After supper +was over, and everything cleaned up, you would generally find them +together, Miss Sally smoking his brier-root pipe, and the Marquis +plaiting a quirt or scraping rawhide for a new pair of hobbles. + +The superintendent did not forget his promise to keep an eye on the +cook. Several times, when visiting the camp, he held long talks with +him. He seemed to have taken a fancy to Miss Sally. One afternoon he +rode up, on his way back to the ranch from a tour of the camps, and said +to him: + +"There'll be a man here in the morning to take your place. As soon as he +shows up you come to the ranch. I want you to take charge of the ranch +accounts and correspondence. I want somebody that I can depend upon to +keep things straight when I'm away. The wages'll be all right. The +Diamond-Cross'll hold its end up with a man who'll look after its +interests." + +"All right," said Miss Sally, as quietly as if he had expected the +notice all along. "Any objections to my bringing my wife down to the +ranch?" + +"You married?" said the superintendent, frowning a little. "You didn't +mention it when we were talking." + +"Because I'm not," said the cook. "But I'd like to be. Thought I'd wait +till I got a job under roof. I couldn't ask her to live in a cow camp." + +"Right," agreed the superintendent. "A camp isn't quite the place for a +married man--but--well, there's plenty of room at the house, and if you +suit us as well as I think you will you can afford it. You write to her +to come on." + +"All right," said Miss Sally again, "I'll ride in as soon as I am +relieved to-morrow." + +It was a rather chilly night, and after supper the cow-punchers were +lounging about a big fire of dried mesquite chunks. + +Their usual exchange of jokes and repartee had dwindled almost to +silence, but silence in a cow camp generally betokens the brewing of +mischief. + +Miss Sally and the Marquis were seated upon a log, discussing the +relative merits of the lengthened or shortened stirrup in long-distance +riding. The Marquis arose presently and went to a tree near by to +examine some strips of rawhide he was seasoning for making a lariat. +Just as he left a little puff of wind blew some scraps of tobacco from a +cigarette that Dry-Creek Smithers was rolling, into Miss Sally's eyes. +While the cook was rubbing at them, with tears flowing, "Phonograph" +Davis--so called on account of his strident voice--arose and began a +speech. + +"Fellers and citizens! I desire to perpound a interrogatory. What is the +most grievous spectacle what the human mind can contemplate?" + +A volley of answers responded to his question. + +"A busted flush!" + +"A Maverick when you ain't got your branding iron!" + +"Yourself!" + +"The hole in the end of some other feller's gun!" + +"Shet up, you ignoramuses," said old Taller, the fat cow-puncher. "Phony +knows what it is. He's waitin' for to tell us." + +"No, fellers and citizens," continued Phonograph. "Them spectacles +you've e-numerated air shore grievious, and way up yonder close to the +so-lution, but they ain't it. The most grievious spectacle air that"--he +pointed to Miss Sally, who was still rubbing his streaming eyes--"a +trustin' and a in-veegled female a-weepin' tears on account of her heart +bein' busted by a false deceiver. Air we men or air we catamounts to +gaze upon the blightin' of our Miss Sally's affections by a +a-risto-crat, which has come among us with his superior beauty and his +glitterin' title to give the weeps to the lovely critter we air bound to +pertect? Air we goin' to act like men, or air we goin' to keep on eaten' +soggy chuck from her cryin' so plentiful over the bread-pan?" + +"It's a gallopin' shame," said Dry-Creek, with a sniffle. "It ain't +human. I've noticed the varmint a-palaverin' round her frequent. And him +a Marquis! Ain't that a title, Phony?" + +"It's somethin' like a king," the Brushy Creek Kid hastened to explain, +"only lower in the deck. Guess it comes in between the Jack and the +ten-spot." + +"Don't miscontruct me," went on Phonograph, "as undervaluatin' the +a-ristocrats. Some of 'em air proper people and can travel right along +with the Watson boys. I've herded some with 'em myself. I've viewed the +elephant with the Mayor of Fort Worth, and I've listened to the owl with +the gen'ral passenger agent of the Katy, and they can keep up with the +percession from where you laid the chunk. But when a Marquis monkeys +with the innocent affections of a cook-lady, may I inquire what the case +seems to call for?" + +"The leathers," shouted Dry-Creek Smithers. + +"You hearn 'er, Charity!" was the Kid's form of corroboration. + +"We've got your company," assented the cow-punchers, in chorus. + +Before the Marquis realized their intention, two of them seized him by +each arm and led him up to the log. Phonograph Davis, self-appointed to +carry out the sentence, stood ready, with a pair of stout leather +leggings in his hands. + +It was the first time they had ever laid hands on the Marquis during +their somewhat rude sports. + +"What are you up to?" he asked, indignantly, with flashing eyes. + +"Go easy, Marquis," whispered Rube Fellows, one of the boys that held +him. "It's all in fun. Take it good-natured and they'll let you off +light. They're only goin' to stretch you over the log and tan you eight +or ten times with the leggin's. 'Twon't hurt much." + +The Marquis, with an exclamation of anger, his white teeth gleaming, +suddenly exhibited a surprising strength. He wrenched with his arms so +violently that the four men were swayed and dragged many yards from the +log. A cry of anger escaped him, and then Miss Sally, his eyes cleared +of the tobacco, saw, and he immediately mixed with the struggling group. + +But at that moment a loud "Hallo!" rang in their ears, and a buckboard +drawn by a team of galloping mustangs spun into the campfire's circle of +light. Every man turned to look, and what they saw drove from their +minds all thoughts of carrying out Phonograph Davis's rather time-worn +contribution to the evening's amusement. Bigger game than the Marquis +was at hand, and his captors released him and stood staring at the +approaching victim. + +The buckboard and team belonged to Sam Holly, a cattleman from the Big +Muddy. Sam was driving, and with him was a stout, smooth-faced man, +wearing a frock coat and a high silk hat. That was the county judge, Mr. +Dave Hackett, candidate for reelection. Sam was escorting him about the +county, among the camps, to shake up the sovereign voters. + +The men got out, hitched the team to a mesquite, and walked toward the +fire. + +Instantly every man in camp, except the Marquis, Miss Sally, and Pink +Saunders, who had to play host, uttered a frightful yell of assumed +terror and fled on all sides into the darkness. + +"Heavens alive!" exclaimed Hackett, "are we as ugly as that? How do you +do, Mr. Saunders? Glad to see you again. What are you doing to my hat, +Holly?" + +"I was afraid of this hat," said Sam Holly, meditatively. He had taken +the hat from Hackett's head and was holding it in his hand, looking +dubiously around at the shadows beyond the firelight where now absolute +stillness reigned. "What do you think, Saunders?" + +Pink grinned. + +"Better elevate it some," he said, in the tone of one giving +disinterested advice. "The light ain't none too good. I wouldn't want it +on my head." + +Holly stepped upon the hub of a hind wheel of the grub wagon and hung +the hat upon a limb of a live-oak. Scarcely had his foot touched the +ground when the crash of a dozen six-shooters split the air, and the hat +fell to the ground riddled with bullets. + +A hissing noise was heard as if from a score of rattlesnakes, and now +the cow-punchers emerged on all sides from the darkness, stepping high, +with ludicrously exaggerated caution, and "hist"-ing to one another to +observe the utmost prudence in approaching. They formed a solemn, wide +circle about the hat, gazing at it in manifest alarm, and seized every +few moments by little stampedes of panicky flight. + + "It's the varmint," said one in awed tones, "that flits up and down in + the low grounds at night, saying, `Willie-wallo!'" + +"It's the venomous Kypootum," proclaimed another. "It stings after it's +dead, and hollers after it's buried." + +"It's the chief of the hairy tribe," said Phonograph Davis. "But it's +stone dead, now, boys." + +"Don't you believe it," demurred Dry-Creek. "It's only 'possumin'.' It's +the dreaded Highgollacum fantod from the forest. There's only one way to +destroy its life." + +He led forward Old Taller, the 240-pound cow-puncher. Old Taller placed +the hat upright on the ground and solemnly sat upon it, crushing it as +flat as a pancake. + +Hackett had viewed these proceedings with wide-open eyes. Sam Holly saw +that his anger was rising and said to him: + +"Here's where you win or lose, Judge. There are sixty votes on the +Diamond Cross. The boys are trying your mettle. Take it as a joke, and I +don't think you'll regret it." And Hackett saw the point and rose to the +occasion. + +Advancing to where the slayers of the wild beast were standing above its +remains and declaring it to be at last defunct, he said, with deep +earnestness: + +"Boys, I must thank you for this gallant rescue. While driving through +the arroyo that cruel monster that you have so fearlessly and repeatedly +slaughtered sprang upon us from the tree tops. To you I shall consider +that I owe my life, and also, I hope, reelection to the office for which +I am again a candidate. Allow me to hand you my card." + +The cow-punchers, always so sober-faced while engaged in their +monkey-shines, relaxed into a grin of approval. + +But Phonograph Davis, his appetite for fun not yet appeased, had +something more up his sleeve. + +"Pardner," he said, addressing Hackett with grave severity, "many a camp +would be down on you for turnin' loose a pernicious varmint like that in +it; but, bein' as we all escaped without loss of life, we'll overlook +it. You can play square with us if you'll do it." + +"How's that?" asked Hackett suspiciously. + +"You're authorized to perform the sacred rights and lefts of mattermony, +air you not?" + +"Well, yes," replied Hackett. "A marriage ceremony conducted by me would +be legal." + +"A wrong air to be righted in this here camp," said Phonograpby, +virtuously. "A a-ristocrat have slighted a 'umble but beautchoos female +wat's pinin' for his affections. It's the jooty of the camp to drag +forth the haughty descendant of a hundred--or maybe a hundred and +twenty-five--earls, even so at the p'int of a lariat, and jine him to +the weepin' lady. Fellows! roundup Miss Sally and the Marquis, there's +goin' to be a weddin'." + +This whim of Phonograph's was received with whoops of appreciation. The +cow-punchers started to apprehend the principals of the proposed +ceremony. + +"Kindly prompt me," said Hackett, wiping his forehead, though the night +was cool, "how far this thing is to be carried. And might I expect any +further portions of my raiment to be mistaken for wild animals and +killed?" + +"The boys are livelier than usual to-night," said Saunders. "The ones +they are talking about marrying are two of the boys--a herd rider and +the cook. It's another joke. You and Sam will have to sleep here +to-night anyway; p'rhaps you'd better see 'em through with it. Maybe +they'll quiet down after that." + +The matchmakers found Miss Sally seated on the tongue of the grub wagon, +calmly smoking his pipe. The Marquis was leaning idly against one of the +trees under which the supply tent was pitched. + +Into this tent they were both hustled, and Phonograph, as master of +ceremonies, gave orders for the preparations. + +"You, Dry-Creek and Jimmy, and Ben and Taller--hump yourselves to the +wildwood and rustle flowers for the blow-out--mesquite'll do--and get +that Spanish dagger blossom at the corner of the horse corral for the +bride to pack. You, Limpy, get out that red and yaller blanket of your'n +for Miss Sally's skyirt. Marquis, you'll do 'thout fixin'; nobody don't +ever look at the groom." + +During their absurd preparation, the two principals were left alone for +a few moments in the tent. The Marquis suddenly showed wild +perturbation. + +"This foolishness must not go on," he said, turning to Miss Sally a face +white in the light of the lantern, hanging to the ridge-pole. + +"Why not?" said the cook, with an amused smile. "It's fun for the boys; +and they've always let you off pretty light in their frolics. I don't +mind it." + +"But you don't understand," persisted the Marquis, pleadingly. "That man +is county judge, and his acts are binding. I can't--oh, you don't +know--" + +The cook stepped forward and took the Marquis's hands. + +"Sally Bascom," he said, "I KNOW!" + +"You know!" faltered the Marquis, trembling. "And you--want to--" + +"More than I ever wanted anything. Will you--here come the boys!" + +The cow-punchers crowded in, laden with armfuls of decorations. + +"Perfifious coyote!" said Phonograph, sternly, addressing the Marquis. +"Air you willing to patch up the damage you've did this ere slab-sided +but trustin' bunch o' calico by single-footin' easy to the altar, or +will we have to rope ye, and drag you thar?" + +The Marquis pushed back his hat, and leaned jauntily against some +high-piled sacks of beans. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were +shining. + +"Go on with the rat killin'," said be. + +A little while after a procession approached the tree under which +Hackett, Holly, and Saunders were sitting smoking. + +Limpy Walker was in the lead, extracting a doleful tune from his +concertina. Next came the bride and groom. The cook wore the gorgeous +Navajo blanket tied around his waist and carried in one band the +waxen-white Spanish dagger blossom as large as a peck-measure and +weighing fifteen pounds. His hat was ornamented with mesquite branches +and yellow ratama blooms. A resurrected mosquito bar served as a veil. +After them stumbled Phonograph Davis, in the character of the bride's +father, weeping into a saddle blanket with sobs that could be heard a +mile away. The cow-punchers followed by twos, loudly commenting upon the +bride's appearance, in a supposed imitation of the audiences at +fashionable weddings. + +Hackett rose as the procession halted before him, and after a little +lecture upon matrimony, asked: + +"What are your names?" + +"Sally and Charles," answered the cook. + +"Join hands, Charles and Sally." + +Perhaps there never was a stranger wedding. For, wedding it was, though +only two of those present knew it. When the ceremony was over, the +cow-punchers gave one yell of congratulation and immediately abandoned +their foolery for the night. Blankets were unrolled and sleep became the +paramount question. + +The cook (divested of his decorations) and the Marquis lingered for a +moment in the shadow of the grub wagon. The Marquis leaned her head +against his shoulder. + +"I didn't know what else to do," she was saying. "Father was gone, and +we kids had to rustle. I had helped him so much with the cattle that I +thought I'd turn cowboy. There wasn't anything else I could make a +living at. I wasn't much stuck on it though, after I got here, and I'd +have left only--" + +"Only what?" + +"You know. Tell me something. When did you first--what made you--" + +"Oh, it was as soon as we struck the camp, when Saunders bawled out 'The +Marquis and Miss Sally!' I saw how rattled you got at the name, and I +had my sus--" + +"Cheeky!" whispered the Marquis. "And why should you think that I +thought he was calling me 'Miss Sally'?" + +"Because," answered the cook, calmly, "I was the Marquis. My father was +the Marquis of Borodale. But you'll excuse that, won't you, Sally? It +really isn't my fault, you know." + + + + + +A FOG IN SANTONE + +[Published in The Cosmopolitan, October, 1912. Probably +written in 1904, or shortly after O. Henry's first +successes in New York.] + + +The drug clerk looks sharply at the white face half concealed by the +high-turned overcoat collar. + +"I would rather not supply you," he said doubtfully. "I sold you a dozen +morphine tablets less than an hour ago." + +The customer smiles wanly. "The fault is in your crooked streets. I +didn't intend to call upon you twice, but I guess I got tangled up. +Excuse me." + +He draws his collar higher, and moves out, slowly. He stops under an +electric light at the corner, and juggles absorbedly with three or four +little pasteboard boxes. "Thirty-six," he announces to himself. "More +than plenty." For a gray mist had swept upon Santone that night, an +opaque terror that laid a hand to the throat of each of the city's +guests. It was computed that three thousand invalids were hibernating in +the town. They had come from far and wide, for here, among these +contracted river-sliced streets, the goddess Ozone has elected to +linger. + +Purest atmosphere, sir, on earth! You might think from the river winding +through our town that we are malarial, but, no, sir! Repeated +experiments made both by the Government and local experts show that our +air contains nothing deleterious--nothing but ozone, sir, pure ozone. +Litmus paper tests made all along the river show--but you can read it +all in the prospectuses; or the Santonian will recite it for you, word +by word. + +We may achieve climate, but weather is thrust upon us. Santone, then, +cannot be blamed for this cold gray fog that came and kissed the lips of +the three thousand, and then delivered them to the cross. That night the +tubercles, whose ravages hope holds in check, multiplied. The writhing +fingers of the pale mist did not go thence bloodless. Many of the wooers +of ozone capitulated with the enemy that night, turning their faces to +the wall in that dumb, isolated apathy that so terrifies their watchers. +On the red stream of Hemorrhagia a few souls drifted away, leaving +behind pathetic heaps, white and chill as the fog itself. Two or three +came to view this atmospheric wraith as the ghost of impossible joys, +sent to whisper to them of the egregious folly it is to inhale breath +into the lungs, only to exhale it again, and these used whatever came +handy to their relief, pistols, gas or the beneficent muriate. + +The purchaser of the morphia wanders into the fog, and at length, finds +himself upon a little iron bridge, one of the score or more in the heart +of the city, under which the small tortuous river flows. He leans on the +rail and gasps, for here the mist has concentrated, lying like a +foot-pad to garrote such of the Three Thousand as creep that way. The +iron bridge guys rattle to the strain of his cough, a mocking phthisical +rattle, seeming to say to him: "Clickety-clack! just a little rusty +cold, sir--but not from our river. Litmus paper all along the banks and +nothing but ozone. Clacket-y-clack!" + +The Memphis man at last recovers sufficiently to be aware of another +overcoated man ten feet away, leaning on the rail, and just coming out +of a paroxysm. There is a freemasonry among the Three Thousand that does +away with formalities and introductions. A cough is your card; a +hemorrhage a letter of credit. The Memphis man, being nearer recovered, +speaks first. + +"Goodall. Memphis--pulmonary tuberculosis--guess last stages." The +Three Thousand economize on words. Words are breath and they need breath +to write checks for the doctors. + +"Hurd," gasps the other. "Hurd; of T'leder. T'leder, Ah-hia. Catarrhal +bronkeetis. Name's Dennis, too--doctor says. Says I'll live four weeks +if I--take care of myself. Got your walking papers yet?" + +"My doctor," says Goodall of Memphis, a little boastingly, "gives me +three months." + +"Oh," remarks the man from Toledo, filling up great gaps in his +conversation with wheezes, "damn the difference. What's months! Expect +to--cut mine down to one week--and die in a hack--a four wheeler, not a +cough. Be considerable moanin' of the bars when I put out to sea. I've +patronized 'em pretty freely since I struck my--present gait. Say, +Goodall of Memphis--if your doctor has set your pegs so close--why +don't you--get on a big spree and go--to the devil quick and easy--like +I'm doing?" + +"A spree," says Goodall, as one who entertains a new idea, "I never did +such a thing. I was thinking of another way, but-----" + +"Come on," invites the Ohioan, "and have some drinks. I've been at +it--for two days, but the inf--ernal stuff won't bite like it used to. +Goodall of Memphis, what's your respiration?" + +"Twenty-four." + +"Daily--temperature?" + +"Hundred and four." + +"You can do it in two days. It'll take me a--week. Tank up, friend +Goodall--have all the fun you can; then--off you go, in the middle of a +jag, and s-s-save trouble and expense. I'm a s-son of a gun if this +ain't a health resort--for your whiskers! A Lake Erie fog'd get lost +here in two minutes." + +"You said something about a drink," says Goodall. + +A few minutes later they line up at a glittering bar, and hang upon the +arm rest. The bartender, blond, heavy, well-groomed, sets out their +drinks, instantly perceiving that he serves two of the Three Thousand. +He observes that one is a middle-aged man, well-dressed, with a lined +and sunken face; the other a mere boy who is chiefly eyes and overcoat. +Disguising well the tedium begotten by many repetitions, the server of +drinks begins to chant the sanitary saga of Santone. "Rather a moist +night, gentlemen, for our town. A little fog from our river, but nothing +to hurt. Repeated Tests." + +"Damn your litmus papers," gasps Toledo--"without any--personal offense +intended." + +"We've beard of 'em before. Let 'em turn red, white and blue. What we +want is a repeated test of that--whiskey. Come again. I paid for the +last round, Goodall of Memphis." + +The bottle oscillates from one to the other, continues to do so, and is +not removed from the counter. The bartender sees two emaciated invalids +dispose of enough Kentucky Belle to floor a dozen cowboys, without +displaying any emotion save a sad and contemplative interest in the +peregrinations of the bottle. So he is moved to manifest a solicitude as +to the consequences. + +"Not on your Uncle Mark Hanna," responds Toledo, "will we get drunk. +We've been--vaccinated with whiskey--and--cod liver oil. What would send +you to the police station--only gives us a thirst. S-s-set out another +bottle." + +It is slow work trying to meet death by that route. Some quicker way +must be found. They leave the saloon and plunge again into the mist. The +sidewalks are mere flanges at the base of the houses; the street a cold +ravine, the fog filling it like a freshet. Not far away is the Mexican +quarter. Conducted as if by wires along the heavy air comes a guitar's +tinkle, and the demoralizing voice of some senorita singing: + +"En las tardes sombrillos del invierro En el prado a Marar me reclino Y +maldigo mi fausto destino--Una vida la mas infeliz." + +The words of it they do not understand--neither Toledo nor Memphis, but +words are the least important things in life. The music tears the +breasts of the seekers after Nepenthe, inciting Toledo to remark: + +"Those kids of mine--I wonder--by God, Mr. Goodall of Memphis, we had +too little of that whiskey! No slow music in mine, if you please. It +makes you disremember to forget." + +Hurd of Toledo, here pulls out his watch, and says: "I'm a son of a gun! +Got an engagement for a hack ride out to San Pedro Springs at eleven. +Forgot it. A fellow from Noo York, and me, and the Castillo sisters at +Rhinegelder's Garden. That Noo York chap's a lucky dog--got one whole +lung--good for a year yet. Plenty of money, too. He pays for everything. +I can't afford--to miss the jamboree. Sorry you ain't going along. +Good-by, Goodall of Memphis." + +He rounds the corner and shuffles away, casting off thus easily the ties +of acquaintanceship as the moribund do, the season of dissolution being +man's supreme hour of egoism and selfishness. But he turns and calls +back through the fog to the other: "I say, Goodall of Memphis! If you +get there before I do, tell 'em Hurd's a-comin' too. Hurd, of T'leder, +Ah-hia." + +Thus Goodall's tempter deserts him. That youth, un-complaining and +uncaring, takes a spell at coughing, and, recovered, wanders desultorily +on down the street, the name of which he neither knows nor recks. At a +certain point he perceives swinging doors, and hears, filtering between +them a noise of wind and string instruments. Two men enter from the +street as he arrives, and he follows them in. There is a kind of +ante-chamber, plentifully set with palms and cactuses and oleanders. At +little marble-topped tables some people sit, while soft-shod attendants +bring the beer. All is orderly, clean, melancholy, gay, of the German +method of pleasure. At his right is the foot of a stairway. A man there +holds out his hand. Goodall extends his, full of silver, the man selects +therefrom a coin. Goodall goes upstairs and sees there two galleries +extending along the sides of a concert hall which he now perceives to +lie below and beyond the anteroom he first entered. These galleries are +divided into boxes or stalls, which bestow with the aid of hanging lace +curtains, a certain privacy upon their occupants. + +Passing with aimless feet down the aisle contiguous to these saucy and +discreet compartments, he is half checked by the sight in one of them of +a young woman, alone and seated in an attitude of reflection. This young +woman becomes aware of his approach. A smile from her brings him to a +standstill, and her subsequent invitation draws him, though hesitating, +to the other chair in the box, a little table between them. + +Goodall is only nineteen. There are some whom, when the terrible god +Phthisis wishes to destroy be first makes beautiful; and the boy is one +of these. His face is wax, and an awful pulchritude is born of the +menacing flame in his cheeks. His eyes reflect an unearthly vista +engendered by the certainty of his doom. As it is forbidden man to guess +accurately concerning his fate, it is inevitable that he shall tremble +at the slightest lifting of the veil. + +The young woman is well-dressed, and exhibits a beauty of distinctly +feminine and tender sort; an Eve-like comeliness that scarcely seems +predestined to fade. + +It is immaterial, the steps by which the two mount to a certain plane of +good understanding; they are short and few, as befits the occasion. + +A button against the wall of the partition is frequently disturbed and a +waiter comes and goes at signal. + +Pensive beauty would nothing of wine; two thick plaits of her blond hair +hang almost to the floor; she is a lineal descendant of the Lorelei. So +the waiter brings the brew; effervescent, icy, greenish golden. The +orchestra on the stage is playing "Oh, Rachel." The youngsters have +exchanged a good bit of information. She calls him, "Walter" and he +calls her "Miss Rosa." + +Goodall's tongue is loosened and he has told her everything about +himself, about his home in Tennessee, the old pillared mansion under the +oaks, the stables, the hunting; the friends he has; down to the +chickens, and the box bushes bordering the walks. About his coming South +for the climate, hoping to escape the hereditary foe of his family. All +about his three months on a ranch; the deer hunts, the rattlers, and the +rollicking in the cow camps. Then of his advent to Santone, where he had +indirectly learned, from a great specialist that his life's calendar +probably contains but two more leaves. And then of this death-white, +choking night which has come and strangled his fortitude and sent him +out to seek a port amid its depressing billows. + +"My weekly letter from home failed to come," he told her, "and I was +pretty blue. I knew I had to go before long and I was tired of waiting. +I went out and bought morphine at every drug store where they would sell +me a few tablets. I got thirty-six quarter grains, and was going back to +my room and take them, but I met a queer fellow on a bridge, who had a +new idea." + +Goodall fillips a little pasteboard box upon the table. "I put 'em all +together in there." + +Miss Rosa, being a woman, must raise the lid, and gave a slight shiver +at the innocent looking triturates. "Horrid things! but those little, +white bits--they could never kill one!" + +Indeed they could. Walter knew better. Nine grains of morphia! Why, half +the amount might. + +Miss Rosa demands to know about Mr. Hurd, of Toledo, and is told. She +laughs like a delighted child. "What a funny fellow! But tell me more +about your home and your sisters, Walter. I know enough about Texas and +tarantulas and cowboys." + +The theme is dear, just now, to his mood, and he lays before her the +simple details of a true home; the little ties and endearments that so +fill the exile's heart. Of his sisters, one, Alice, furnishes him a +theme he loves to dwell upon. + +"She is like you, Miss Rosa," he says. "Maybe not quite so pretty, +but, just as nice, and good, and----" + +"There! Walter," says Miss Rosa sharply, "now talk about something +else." + +But a shadow falls upon the wall outside, preceding a big, softly +treading man, finely dressed, who pauses a second before the curtains +and then passes on. Presently comes the waiter with a message: "Mr. +Rolfe says--" + +"Tell Rolfe I'm engaged." + +"I don't know why it is," says Goodall, of Memphis, "but I don't feel as +bad as I did. An hour ago I wanted to die, but since I've met you, Miss +Rosa, I'd like so much to live." + +The young woman whirls around the table, lays an arm behind his neck and +kisses him on the cheek. + +"You must, dear boy," she says. "I know what was the matter. It was the +miserable foggy weather that has lowered your spirit and mine too--a +little. But look, now." + +With a little spring she has drawn back the curtains. A window is in the +wall opposite, and lo! the mist is cleared away. The indulgent moon is +out again, revoyaging the plumbless sky. Roof and parapet and spire are +softly pearl enamelled. Twice, thrice the retrieved river flashes back, +between the houses, the light of the firmament. A tonic day will dawn, +sweet and prosperous. + +"Talk of death when the world is so beautiful!" says Miss Rosa, laying +her hand on his shoulder. "Do something to please me, Walter. Go home to +your rest and say: 'I mean to get better,' and do it." + +"If you ask it," says the boy, with a smile, "I will." + +The waiter brings full glasses. Did they ring? No; but it is well. He +may leave them. A farewell glass. Miss Rosa says: "To your better +health, Walter." He says: "To our next meeting." + +His eyes look no longer into the void, but gaze upon the antithesis of +death. His foot is set in an undiscovered country to-night. He is +obedient, ready to go. + +"Good night," she says. + +"I never kissed a girl before," he confesses, "except my sisters." + +"You didn't this time," she laughs, "I kissed you--good night." + +"When shall I see you again," he persists. + +"You promised me to go home," she frowns, "and get well. Perhaps we +shall meet again soon. Good night." + +He hesitates, his hat in hand. She smiles broadly and kisses him once +more upon the forehead. She watches him far down the aisle, then sits +again at the table. + +The shadow falls once more against the wall. This time the big, softly +stepping man parts the curtains and looks in. Miss Rosa's eyes meet his +and for half a minute they remain thus, silent, fighting a battle with +that king of weapons. Presently the big man drops the curtains and +passes on. + +The orchestra ceases playing suddenly, and an important voice can be +heard loudly talking in one of the boxes farther down the aisle. No +doubt some citizen entertains there some visitor to the town, and Miss +Rosa leans back in her chair and smiles at some of the words she +catches: + +"Purest atmosphere--in the world--litmus paper all long--nothing +hurtful--our city--nothing but pure ozone." + +The waiter returns for the tray and glasses. As he enters, the girl +crushes a little empty pasteboard box in her hand and throws it in a +corner. She is stirring something in her glass with her hatpin. + +"Why, Miss Rosa," says the waiter with the civil familiarity he +uses--"putting salt in your beer this early in the night!" + + + + +THE FRIENDLY CALL + +[Published in "Monthly Magazine Section," July, 1910.] + +When I used to sell hardware in the West, I often "made" a little town +called Saltillo, in Colorado. I was always certain of securing a small +or a large order from Simon Bell, who kept a general store there. Bell +was one of those six-foot, low-voiced products, formed from a union of +the West and the South. I liked him. To look at him you would think he +should be robbing stage coaches or juggling gold mines with both hands; +but he would sell you a paper of tacks or a spool of thread, with ten +times more patience and courtesy than any saleslady in a city department +store. + +I had a twofold object in my last visit to Saltillo. One was to sell a +bill of goods; the other to advise Bell of a chance that I knew of by +which I was certain he could make a small fortune. + +In Mountain City, a town on the Union Pacific, five times larger than +Saltillo, a mercantile firm was about to go to the wall. It had a lively +and growing custom, but was on the edge of dissolution and ruin. +Mismanagement and the gambling habits of one of the partners explained +it. The condition of the firm was not yet public property. I had my +knowledge of it from a private source. I knew that, if the ready cash +were offered, the stock and good will could be bought for about one +fourth their value. + +On arriving in Saltillo I went to Bell's store. He nodded to me, smiled +his broad, lingering smile, went on leisurely selling some candy to a +little girl, then came around the counter and shook hands. + +"Well," he said (his invariably preliminary jocosity fit every call I +made), "I suppose you are out here making kodak pictures of the +mountains. It's the wrong time of the year to buy any hardware, of +course." + +I told Bell about the bargain in Mountain City. If he wanted to take +advantage of it, I would rather have missed a sale than have him +overstocked in Saltillo. + +"It sounds good," he said, with enthusiasm. "I'd like to branch out and +do a bigger business, and I'm obliged to you for mentioning it. +But--well, you come and stay at my house to-night and I'll think about +it." + +It was then after sundown and time for the larger stores in Saltillo to +close. The clerks in Bell's put away their books, whirled the +combination of the safe, put on their coats and hats and left for their +homes. Bell padlocked the big, double wooden front doors, and we stood, +for a moment, breathing the keen, fresh mountain air coming across the +foothills. + +A big man walked down the street and stopped in front of the high porch +of the store. His long, black moustache, black eyebrows, and curly black +hair contrasted queerly with his light, pink complexion, which belonged, +by rights, to a blonde. He was about forty, and wore a white vest, a +white hat, a watch chain made of five-dollar gold pieces linked +together, and a rather well-fitting two-piece gray suit of the cut that +college boys of eighteen are wont to affect. He glanced at me +distrustfully, and then at Bell with coldness and, I thought, something +of enmity in his expression. + +"Well," asked Bell, as if he were addressing a stranger, "did you fix up +that matter?" + +"Did I!" the man answered, in a resentful tone. "What do you suppose +I've been here two weeks for? The business is to be settled to-night. +Does that suit you, or have you got something to kick about?" + +"It's all right," said Bell. "I knew you'd do it." + +"Of course, you did," said the magnificent stranger. "Haven't I done it +before?" + +"You have," admitted Bell. "And so have I. How do you find it at the +hotel?" + +"Rocky grub. But I ain't kicking. Say--can you give me any pointers +about managing that--affair? It's my first deal in that line of +business, you know." + +"No, I can't," answered Bell, after some thought. "I've tried all kinds +of ways. You'll have to try some of your own." + +"Tried soft soap?" + +"Barrels of it." + +"Tried a saddle girth with a buckle on the end of it?" + +"Never none. Started to once; and here's what I got." + +Bill held out his right hand. Even in the deepening twilight, I could +see on the back of it a long, white scar that might have been made by a +claw or a knife or some sharp-edged tool. + +"Oh, well," said the florid man, carelessly, "I'll know what to do later +on." + +He walked away without another word. When he had gone ten steps he +turned and called to Bell: + +"You keep well out of the way when the goods are delivered, so there +won't be any hitch in the business." + +"All right," answered Bell, "I'll attend to my end of the line." + +This talk was scarcely clear in its meaning to me; but as it did not +concern me, I did not let it weigh upon my mind. But the singularity of +the other man's appearance lingered with me for a while; and as we +walked toward Bell's house I remarked to him: + +"Your customer seems to be a surly kind of fellow--not one that you'd +like to be snowed in with in a camp on a hunting trip." + +"He is that," assented Bell, heartily. "He reminds me of a rattlesnake +that's been poisoned by the bite of a tarantula." + +"He doesn't look like a citizen of Saltillo," I went on. + +"No," said Bell, "he lives in Sacramento. He's down here on a little +business trip. His name is George Ringo, and he's been my best +friend--in fact the only friend I ever had--for twenty years." + +I was too surprised to make any further comment. + +Bell lived in a comfortable, plain, square, two-story white house on the +edge of the little town. I waited in the parlor--a room depressingly +genteel--furnished with red plush, straw matting, looped-up lace +curtains, and a glass case large enough to contain a mummy, full of +mineral specimens. + +While I waited, I heard, upstairs, that unmistakable sound instantly +recognized the world over--a bickering woman's voice, rising as her +anger and fury grew. I could hear, between the gusts, the temperate +rumble of Bell's tones, striving to oil the troubled waters. + +The storm subsided soon; but not before I had heard the woman say, in a +lower, concentrated tone, rather more carrying than her high-pitched +railings: "This is the last time. I tell you--the last time. Oh, you +WILL understand." + +The household seemed to consist of only Bell and his wife and a servant +or two. I was introduced to Mrs. Bell at supper. + +At first sight she seemed to be a handsome woman, but I soon perceived +that her charm had been spoiled. An uncontrolled petulance, I thought, +and emotional egotism, an absence of poise and a habitual +dissatisfaction had marred her womanhood. During the meal, she showed +that false gayety, spurious kindliness and reactionary softness that +mark the woman addicted to tantrums. Withal, she was a woman who might +be attractive to many men. + +After supper, Bell and I took our chairs outside, set them on the grass +in the moonlight and smoked. The full moon is a witch. In her light, +truthful men dig up for you nuggets of purer gold; while liars squeeze +out brighter colors from the tubes of their invention. I saw Bell's +broad, slow smile come out upon his face and linger there. + +"I reckon you think George and me are a funny kind of friends," he said. +"The fact is we never did take much interest in each other's company. +But his idea and mine, of what a friend should be, was always synonymous +and we lived up to it, strict, all these years. Now, I'll give you an +idea of what our idea is. + +"A man don't need but one friend. The fellow who drinks your liquor and +hangs around you, slapping you on the back and taking up your time, +telling you how much he likes you, ain't a friend, even if you did play +marbles at school and fish in the same creek with him. As long as you +don't need a friend one of that kind may answer. But a friend, to my +mind, is one you can deal with on a strict reciprocity basis like me and +George have always done. + +"A good many years ago, him and me was connected in a number of ways. We +put our capital together and run a line of freight wagons in New Mexico, +and we mined some and gambled a few. And then, we got into trouble of +one or two kinds; and I reckon that got us on a better understandable +basis than anything else did, unless it was the fact that we never had +much personal use for each other's ways. George is the vainest man I +ever see, and the biggest brag. He could blow the biggest geyser in the +Yosemite valley back into its hole with one whisper. I am a quiet man, +and fond of studiousness and thought. The more we used to see each +other, personally, the less we seemed to like to be together. If he ever +had slapped me on the back and snivelled over me like I've seen men do +to what they called their friends, I know I'd have had a +rough-and-tumble with him on the spot. Same way with George. He hated my +ways as bad as I did his. When we were mining, we lived in separate +tents, so as not to intrude our obnoxiousness on each other. + +"But after a long time, we begun to know each of us could depend on the +other when we were in a pinch, up to his last dollar, word of honor or +perjury, bullet, or drop of blood we had in the world. We never even +spoke of it to each other, because that would have spoiled it. But we +tried it out, time after time, until we came to know. I've grabbed my +hat and jumped a freight and rode 200 miles to identify him when he was +about to be hung by mistake, in Idaho, for a train robber. Once, I laid +sick of typhoid in a tent in Texas, without a dollar or a change of +clothes, and sent for George in Boise City. He came on the next train. +The first thing he did before speaking to me, was to hang up a little +looking glass on the side of the tent and curl his moustache and rub +some hair dye on his head. His hair is naturally a light reddish. Then +he gave me the most scientific cussing I ever had, and took off his +coat. + +"'If you wasn't a Moses-meek little Mary's lamb, you wouldn't have been +took down this way,' says he. 'Haven't you got gumption enough not to +drink swamp water or fall down and scream whenever you have a little +colic or feel a mosquito bite you?' He made me a little mad. + +"'You've got the bedside manners of a Piute medicine man,' says I. 'And +I wish you'd go away and let me die a natural death. I'm sorry I sent +for you.' + +"'I've a mind to,' says George, 'for nobody cares whether you live or +die. But now I've been tricked into coming, I might as well stay until +this little attack of indigestion or nettle rash or whatever it is, +passes away.' + +"Two weeks afterward, when I was beginning to get around again, the +doctor laughed and said he was sure that my friend's keeping me mad all +the time did more than his drugs to cure me. + +"So that's the way George and me was friends. There wasn't any sentiment +about it--it was just give and take, and each of us knew that the other +was ready for the call at any time. + +"I remember, once, I played a sort of joke on George, just to try him. I +felt a little mean about it afterward, because I never ought to have +doubted he'd do it. + +"We was both living in a little town in the San Luis valley, running +some flocks of sheep and a few cattle. We were partners, but, as usual, +we didn't live together. I had an old aunt, out from the East, visiting +for the summer, so I rented a little cottage. She soon had a couple of +cows and some pigs and chickens to make the place look like home. George +lived alone in a little cabin half a mile out of town. + +"One day a calf that we had, died. That night I broke its bones, dumped +it into a coarse sack and tied it up with wire. I put on an old shirt, +tore a sleeve 'most out of it, and the collar half off, tangled up my +hair, put some red ink on my hands and spashed some of it over my shirt +and face. I must have looked like I'd been having the fight of my life. +I put the sack in a wagon and drove out to George's cabin. When I +halloed, he came out in a yellow dressing-gown, a Turkish cap and patent +leather shoes. George always was a great dresser. + +"I dumped the bundle to the ground. + +"Sh-sh!' says I, kind of wild in my way. 'Take that and bury it, George, +out somewhere behind your house--bury it just like it is. And don--' + +"'Don't get excited,' says George. 'And for the Lord's sake go and wash +your hands and face and put on a clean shirt.' + +"And he lights his pipe, while I drive away at a gallop. The next +morning he drops around to our cottage, where my aunt was fiddling with +her flowers and truck in the front yard. He bends himself and bows and +makes compliments as be could do, when so disposed, and begs a rose bush +from her, saying he had turned up a little land back of his cabin, and +wanted to plant something on it by way of usefulness and ornament. So my +aunt, flattered, pulls up one of her biggest by the roots and gives it +to him. Afterward I see it growing where he planted it, in a place where +the grass had been cleared off and the dirt levelled. But neither George +nor me ever spoke of it to each other again." + +The moon rose higher, possibly drawing water from the sea, pixies from +their dells and certainly more confidences from Simms Bell, the friend +of a friend. + +"There come a time, not long afterward," he went on, "when I was able to +do a good turn for George Ringo. George had made a little pile of money +in beeves and he was up in Denver, and he showed up when I saw him, +wearing deer-skin vests, yellow shoes, clothes like the awnings in front +of drug stores, and his hair dyed so blue that it looked black in the +dark. He wrote me to come up there, quick--that he needed me, and to +bring the best outfit of clothes I had. I had 'em on when I got the +letter, so I left on the next train. George was--" + +Bell stopped for half a minute, listening intently. "I thought I heard a +team coming down the road," he explained. "George was at a summer resort +on a lake near Denver and was putting on as many airs as he knew how. He +had rented a little two-room cottage, and had a Chihauhau dog and a +hammock and eight different kinds of walking sticks. + +"'Simms,' he says to me, 'there's a widow woman here that's pestering +the soul out of me with her intentions. I can't get out of her way. It +ain't that she ain't handsome and agreeable, in a sort of style, but her +attentions is serious, and I ain't ready for to marry nobody and settle +down. I can't go to no festivity nor sit on the hotel piazza or mix in +any of the society round-ups, but what she cuts me out of the herd and +puts her daily brand on me. I like this here place,' goes on George, +'and I'm making a hit here in the most censorious circles, so I don't +want to have to run away from it. So I sent for you.' + +"'What do you want me to do?' I asks George. + +"'Why,' says he, 'I want you to head her off. I want you to cut me out. +I want you to come to the rescue. Suppose you seen a wildcat about for +to eat me, what would you do?' + +"Go for it,' says I. + +"'Correct,' says George. 'Then go for this Mrs. De Clinton the same.' + +"'How am I to do it?' I asks. 'By force and awfulness or in some gentler +and less lurid manner?' + +"Court her,' George says, 'get her off my trail. Feed her. Take her out +in boats. Hang around her and stick to her. Get her mashed on you if you +can. Some women are pretty big fools. Who knows but what she might take +a fancy to you.' + +"'Had you ever thought,' I asks, 'of repressing your fatal fascinations +in her presence; of squeezing a harsh note in the melody of your siren +voice, of veiling your beauty--in other words, of giving her the bounce +yourself?' + +"George sees no essence of sarcasm in my remark. He twists his moustache +and looks at the points of his shoes. + +"'Well, Simms,' he said, 'you know how I am about the ladies. I can't +hurt none of their feelings. I'm, by nature, polite and esteemful of +their intents and purposes. This Mrs. De Clinton don't appear to be the +suitable sort for me. Besides, I ain't a marrying man by all means.' + +"'All right,' said I, 'I'll do the best I can in the case.' + +"So I bought a new outfit of clothes and a book on etiquette and made a +dead set for Mrs. De Clinton. She was a fine-looking woman, cheerful and +gay. At first, I almost had to hobble her to keep her from loping around +at George's heels; but finally I got her so she seemed glad to go riding +with me and sailing on the lake; and she seemed real hurt on the +mornings when I forgot to send her a bunch of flowers. Still, I didn't +like the way she looked at George, sometimes, out of the corner of her +eye. George was having a fine time now, going with the whole bunch just +as he pleased. Yes'm," continued Bell, "she certainly was a fine-looking +woman at that time. She's changed some since, as you might have noticed +at the supper table." + +"What!" I exclaimed. + +"I married Mrs. De Clinton," went on Bell. "One evening while we were up +at the lake. When I told George about it, he opened his mouth and I +thought be was going to break our traditions and say something grateful, +but he swallowed it back. + +"'All right,' says he, playing with his dog. 'I hope you won't have too +much trouble. Myself, I'm not never going to marry.' + +"That was three years ago," said Bell. "We came here to live. For a year +we got along medium fine. And then everything changed. For two years +I've been having something that rhymes first-class with my name. You +heard the row upstairs this evening? That was a merry welcome compared +to the usual average. She's tired of me and of this little town life and +she rages all day, like a panther in a cage. I stood it until two weeks +ago and then I had to send out The Call. I located George in Sacramento. +He started the day he got my wire." + +Mrs. Bell came out of the house swiftly toward us. Some strong +excitement or anxiety seemed to possess her, but she smiled a faint +hostess smile, and tried to keep her voice calm. + +"The dew is falling," she said, "and it's growing rather late. Wouldn't +you gentlemen rather come into the house?" + +Bell took some cigars from his pocket and answered: "It's most too fine +a night to turn in yet. I think Mr. Ames and I will walk out along the +road a mile or so and have another smoke. I want to talk with him about +some goods that I want to buy." + +"Up the road or down the road?" asked Mrs. Bell. + +"Down," said Bell. + +I thought she breathed a sigh of relief. + +When we had gone a hundred yards and the house became concealed by +trees, Bell guided me into the thick grove that lined the road and back +through them toward the house again. We stopped within twenty yards of +the house, concealed by the dark shadows. I wondered at this maneuver. +And then I heard in the distance coming down the road beyond the house, +the regular hoofbeats of a team of horses. Bell held his watch in a ray +of moonlight. + +"On time, within a minute," he said. "That's George's way." + +The team slowed up as it drew near the house and stopped in a patch of +black shadows. We saw the figure of a woman carrying a heavy valise move +swiftly from the other side of the house, and hurry to the waiting +vehicle. Then it rolled away briskly in the direction from which it had +come. + +I looked at Bell inquiringly, I suppose. I certainly asked him no +question. + +"She's running away with George," said Bell, simply. "He's kept me +posted about the progress of the scheme all along. She'll get a divorce +in six months and then George will marry her. He never helps anybody +halfway. It's all arranged between them." + +I began to wonder what friendship was, after all. + +When we went into the house, Bell began to talk easily on other +subjects; and I took his cue. By and by the big chance to buy out the +business in Mountain City came back to my mind and I began to urge it +upon him. Now that he was free, it would be easier for him to make the +move; and he was sure of a splendid bargain. + +Bell was silent for some minutes, but when I looked at him I fancied +that he was thinking of something else--that he was not considering the +project. + +"Why, no, Mr. Ames," he said, after a while, "I can't make that deal. +I'm awful thankful to you, though, for telling me about it. But I've got +to stay here. I can't go to Mountain City." + +"Why?" I asked. + +"Missis Bell," he replied, "won't live in Mountain City, She hates the +place and wouldn't go there. I've got to keep right on here in +Saltillo." + +"Mrs. Bell!" I exclaimed, too puzzled to conjecture what he meant. + +"I ought to explain," said Bell. "I know George and I know Mrs. Bell. +He's impatient in his ways. He can't stand things that fret him, long, +like I can. Six months, I give them--six months of married life, and +there'll be another disunion. Mrs. Bell will come back to me. There's no +other place for her to go. I've got to stay here and wait. At the end of +six months, I'll have to grab a satchel and catch the first train. For +George will be sending out The Call." + + + + + +A DINNER AT -------* + +[Footnote: See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well," in the +daily newspapers.] + +[The story referred to in this skit appears in "The Trimmed Lamp" +under the same title--"The Badge of Policeman O'Roon."] + +The Adventures of an Author With His Own Hero + +All that day--in fact from the moment of his creation--Van Sweller had +conducted himself fairly well in my eyes. Of course I had had to make +many concessions; but in return he had been no less considerate. Once or +twice we had had sharp, brief contentions over certain points of +behavior; but, prevailingly, give and take had been our rule. + +His morning toilet provoked our first tilt. Van Sweller went about it +confidently. + +"The usual thing, I suppose, old chap," he said, with a smile and a +yawn. "I ring for a b. and s., and then I have my tub. I splash a good +deal in the water, of course. You are aware that there are two ways in +which I can receive Tommy Carmichael when he looks in to have a chat +about polo. I can talk to him through the bathroom door, or I can be +picking at a grilled bone which my man has brought in. Which would you +prefer?" + +I smiled with diabolic satisfaction at his coming discomfiture. + +"Neither," I said. "You will make your appearance on the scene when a +gentleman should--after you are fully dressed, which indubitably private +function shall take place behind closed doors. And I will feel indebted +to you if, after you do appear, your deportment and manners are such +that it will not be necessary to inform the public, in order to appease +its apprehension, that you have taken a bath." + +Van Sweller slightly elevated his brows. "Oh, very well," he said, a +trifle piqued. "I rather imagine it concerns you more than it does me. +Cut the 'tub' by all means, if you think best. But it has been the usual +thing, you know." + +This was my victory; but after Van Sweller emerged from his apartments +in the "Beaujolie" I was vanquished in a dozen small but well-contested +skirmishes. I allowed him a cigar; but routed him on the question of +naming its brand. But he worsted me when I objected to giving him a +"coat unmistakably English in its cut." I allowed him to "stroll down +Broadway," and even permitted "passers by" (God knows there's nowhere to +pass but by) to "turn their heads and gaze with evident admiration at +his erect figure." I demeaned myself, and, as a barber, gave him a +"smooth, dark face with its keen, frank eye, and firm jaw." + +Later on he looked in at the club and saw Freddy Vavasour, polo team +captain, dawdling over grilled bone No. 1. + +"Dear old boy," began Van Sweller; but in an instant I had seized him by +the collar and dragged him aside with the scantiest courtesy. + +"For heaven's sake talk like a man," I said, sternly. "Do you think it +is manly to use those mushy and inane forms of address? That man is +neither dear nor old nor a boy." + +To my surprise Van Sweller turned upon me a look of frank pleasure. + +"I am glad to hear you say that," he said, heartily. "I used those words +because I have been forced to say them so often. They really are +contemptible. Thanks for correcting me, dear old boy." + +Still I must admit that Van Sweller's conduct in the park that morning +was almost without flaw. The courage, the dash, the modesty, the skill, +and fidelity that he displayed atoned for everything. + +This is the way the story runs. Van Sweller has been a gentleman member +of the "Rugged Riders," the company that made a war with a foreign +country famous. Among his comrades was Lawrence O'Roon, a man whom Van +Sweller liked. A strange thing--and a hazardous one in fiction--was that +Van Sweller and O'Roon resembled each other mightily in face, form, and +general appearance. After the war Van Sweller pulled wires, and O'Roon +was made a mounted policeman. + +Now, one night in New York there are commemorations and libations by old +comrades, and in the morning, Mounted Policeman O'Roon, unused to potent +liquids--another premise hazardous in fiction--finds the earth bucking +and bounding like a bronco, with no stirrup into which he may insert +foot and save his honor and his badge. + +Noblesse oblige? Surely. So out along the driveways and bridle paths +trots Hudson Van Sweller in the uniform of his incapacitated comrade, as +like unto him as one French pea is unto a petit pois. + +It is, of course, jolly larks for Van Sweller, who has wealth and social +position enough for him to masquerade safely even as a police +commissioner doing his duty, if he wished to do so. But society, not +given to scanning the countenances of mounted policemen, sees nothing +unusual in the officer on the beat. + +And then comes the runaway. + +That is a fine scene--the swaying victoria, the impetuous, daft horses +plunging through the line of scattering vehicles, the driver stupidly +holding his broken reins, and the ivory-white face of Amy Ffolliott, as +she clings desperately with each slender hand. Fear has come and gone: +it has left her expression pensive and just a little pleading, for life +is not so bitter. + +And then the clatter and swoop of Mounted Policeman Van Sweller! Oh, it +was--but the story has not yet been printed. When it is you shall learn +bow he sent his bay like a bullet after the imperilled victoria. A +Crichton, a Croesus, and a Centaur in one, he hurls the invincible +combination into the chase. + +When the story is printed you will admire the breathless scene where Van +Sweller checks the headlong team. And then he looks into Amy Ffolliott's +eyes and sees two things--the possibilities of a happiness he has long +sought, and a nascent promise of it. He is unknown to her; but he stands +in her sight illuminated by the hero's potent glory, she his and he hers +by all the golden, fond, unreasonable laws of love and light literature. + +Ay, that is a rich moment. And it will stir you to find Van Sweller in +that fruitful nick of time thinking of his comrade O'Roon, who is +cursing his gyrating bed and incapable legs in an unsteady room in a +West Side hotel while Van Sweller holds his badge and his honor. + +Van Sweller hears Miss Ffolliott's voice thrillingly asking the name of +her preserver. If Hudson Van Sweller, in policeman's uniform, has saved +the life of palpitating beauty in the park--where is Mounted Policeman +O'Roon, in whose territory the deed is done? How quickly by a word can +the hero reveal himself, thus discarding his masquerade of ineligibility +and doubling the romance! But there is his friend! + +Van Sweller touches his cap. "It's nothing, Miss," he says, sturdily; +"that's what we are paid for--to do our duty." And away he rides. But +the story does not end there. + +As I have said, Van Sweller carried off the park scene to my decided +satisfaction. Even to me he was a hero when he foreswore, for the sake +of his friend, the romantic promise of his adventure. It was later in +the day, amongst the more exacting conventions that encompass the +society hero, when we had our liveliest disagreement. At noon he went to +O'Roon's room and found him far enough recovered to return to his post, +which he at once did. + +At about six o'clock in the afternoon Van Sweller fingered his watch, +and flashed at me a brief look full of such shrewd cunning that I +suspected him at once. + +"Time to dress for dinner, old man," he said, with exaggerated +carelessness. + +"Very well," I answered, without giving him a clew to my suspicions; "I +will go with you to your rooms and see that you do the thing properly. I +suppose that every author must be a valet to his own hero." + +He affected cheerful acceptance of my somewhat officious proposal to +accompany him. I could see that he was annoyed by it, and that fact +fastened deeper in my mind the conviction that he was meditating some +act of treachery. + +When he had reached his apartments he said to me, with a too patronizing +air: "There are, as you perhaps know, quite a number of little +distinguishing touches to be had out of the dressing process. Some +writers rely almost wholly upon them. I suppose that I am to ring for my +man, and that he is to enter noiselessly, with an expressionless +countenance." + +"He may enter," I said, with decision, "and only enter. Valets do not +usually enter a room shouting college songs or with St. Vitus's dance in +their faces; so the contrary may be assumed without fatuous or +gratuitous asseveration." + +"I must ask you to pardon me," continued Van Sweller, gracefully, "for +annoying you with questions, but some of your methods are a little new +to me. Shall I don a full-dress suit with an immaculate white tie--or +is there another tradition to be upset?" + +"You will wear," I replied, "evening dress, such as a gentleman wears. +If it is full, your tailor should be responsible for its bagginess. And +I will leave it to whatever erudition you are supposed to possess +whether a white tie is rendered any whiter by being immaculate. And I +will leave it to the consciences of you and your man whether a tie that +is not white, and therefore not immaculate, could possibly form any part +of a gentleman's evening dress. If not, then the perfect tie is included +and understood in the term 'dress,' and its expressed addition +predicates either a redundancy of speech or the spectacle of a man +wearing two ties at once." + +With this mild but deserved rebuke I left Van Sweller in his +dressing-room, and waited for him in his library. + +About an hour later his valet came out, and I heard him telephone for an +electric cab. Then out came Van Sweller, smiling, but with that sly, +secretive design in his eye that was puzzling me. + +"I believe," he said easily, as he smoothed a glove, "that I will drop +in at -----* [Footnote: See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well," in +the daily newspapers.] for dinner." + +I sprang up, angrily, at his words. This, then, was the paltry trick he +had been scheming to play upon me. I faced him with a look so grim that +even his patrician poise was flustered. + +"You will never do so," I exclaimed, "with my permission. What kind of a +return is this," I continued, hotly, "for the favors I have granted you? +I gave you a 'Van' to your name when I might have called you 'Perkins' +or 'Simpson.' I have humbled myself so far as to brag of your polo +ponies, your automobiles, and the iron muscles that you acquired when +you were stroke-oar of your 'varsity eight,' or 'eleven,' whichever it +is. I created you for the hero of this story; and I will not submit to +having you queer it. I have tried to make you a typical young New York +gentleman of the highest social station and breeding. You have no reason +to complain of my treatment to you. Amy Ffolliott, the girl you are +to win, is a prize for any man to be thankful for, and cannot be +equalled for beauty--provided the story is illustrated by the right +artist. I do not understand why you should try to spoil everything. I +had thought you were a gentleman." + +"What it is you are objecting to, old man?" asked Van Sweller, in a +surprised tone. + +"To your dining at---," I answered. [FOOTNOTE: See advertising column, +"Where to Dine Well," in the daily newspapers.] "The pleasure would be +yours, no doubt, but the responsibility would fall upon me. You intend +deliberately to make me out a tout for a restaurant. Where you dine +tonight has not the slightest connection with the thread of our story. +You know very well that the plot requires that you be in front of the +Alhambra Opera House at 11:30 where you are to rescue Miss Ffolliott a +second time as the fire engine crashes into her cab. Until that time +your movements are immaterial to the reader. Why can't you dine out of +sight somewhere, as many a hero does, instead of insisting upon an +inapposite and vulgar exhibition of yourself?" + +"My dear fellow," said Van Sweller, politely, but with a stubborn +tightening of his lips, "I'm sorry it doesn't please you, but there's no +help for it. Even a character in a story has rights that an author +cannot ignore. The hero of a story of New York social life must dine at +----* [*See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well," in the daily +newspapers.] at least once during its action." + +"'Must,'" I echoed, disdainfully; "why 'must'? Who demands it?" + +"The magazine editors," answered Van Sweller, giving me a glance of +significant warning. + +"But why?" I persisted. + +"To please subscribers around Kankakee, Ill.," said Van Sweller, without +hesitation. + +"How do you know these things?" I inquired, with sudden suspicion. "You +never came into existence until this morning. You are only a character +in fiction, anyway. I, myself, created you. How is it possible for you +to know anything?" + +"Pardon me for referring to it," said Van Sweller, with a sympathetic +smile, "but I have been the hero of hundreds of stories of this kind." + +I felt a slow flush creeping into my face. + +"I thought..." I stammered; "I was hoping ...that is... Oh, well, of +course an absolutely original conception in fiction is impossible in +these days." + +"Metropolitan types," continued Van Sweller, kindly, "do not offer a +hold for much originality. I've sauntered through every story in pretty +much the same way. Now and then the women writers have made me cut some +rather strange capers, for a gentleman; but the men generally pass me +along from one to another without much change. But never yet, in any +story, have I failed to dine at ----.*" [*Footnote: See advertising +column, "Where to Dine Well," in the daily newspapers.] + +"You will fail this time," I said, emphatically. + +"Perhaps so," admitted Van Sweller, looking out of the window into the +street below, "but if so it will be for the first time. The authors all +send me there. I fancy that many of them would have liked to accompany +me, but for the little matter of the expense." + +"I say I will be touting for no restaurant," I repeated, loudly. "You +are subject to my will, and I declare that you shall not appear of +record this evening until the time arrives for you to rescue Miss +Ffolliott again. If the reading public cannot conceive that you have +dined during that interval at some one of the thousands of +establishments provided for that purpose that do not receive literary +advertisement it may suppose, for aught I care, that you have gone +fasting." + +"Thank you," said Van Sweller, rather coolly, "you are hardly courteous. +But take care! it is at your own risk that you attempt to disregard a +fundamental principle in metropolitan fiction--one that is dear alike to +author and reader. I shall, of course attend to my duty when it comes +time to rescue your heroine; but I warn you that it will be your loss if +you fail to send me to-night to dine at ----.*" [Footnote: * See +advertising column, "Where to Dine Well," in the daily newspapers.] + +"I will take the consequences if there are to be any," I replied. "I am +not yet come to be sandwich man for an eating-house." + +I walked over to a table where I had left my cane and gloves. I heard +the whirr of the alarm in the cab below and I turned quickly. Van +Sweller was gone. + +I rushed down the stairs and out to the curb. An empty hansom was just +passing. I hailed the driver excitedly. + +"See that auto cab halfway down the block?" I shouted. "Follow it. Don't +lose sight of it for an instant, and I will give you two dollars!" + +If I only had been one of the characters in my story instead of myself I +could easily have offered $10 or $25 or even $100. But $2 was all I felt +justified in expending, with fiction at its present rates. + +The cab driver, instead of lashing his animal into a foam, proceeded at +a deliberate trot that suggested a by-the-hour arrangement. + +But I suspected Van Sweller's design; and when we lost sight of his cab +I ordered my driver to proceed at once to ----.* [* See advertising +column, "Where to Dine Well," in the daily newspapers.] + +I found Van Sweller at a table under a palm, just glancing over the +menu, with a hopeful waiter hovering at his elbow. + +"Come with me," I said, inexorably. "You will not give me the slip +again. Under my eye you shall remain until 11:30." + +Van Sweller countermanded the order for his dinner, and arose to +accompany me. He could scarcely do less. A fictitious character is but +poorly equipped for resisting a hungry but live author who comes to drag +him forth from a restaurant. All he said was: "You were just in time; +but I think you are making a mistake. You cannot afford to ignore the +wishes of the great reading public." + +I took Van Sweller to my own rooms--to my room. He had never seen +anything like it before. + +"Sit on that trunk," I said to him, "while I observe whether the +landlady is stalking us. If she is not, I will get things at a +delicatessen store below, and cook something for you in a pan over the +gas jet. It will not be so bad. Of course nothing of this will appear in +the story." + +"Jove! old man!" said Van Sweller, looking about him with interest, +"this is a jolly little closet you live in! Where the devil do you +sleep?--Oh, that pulls down! And I say--what is this under the corner of +the carpet?--Oh, a frying pan! I see--clever idea! Fancy cooking over +the gas! What larks it will be!" + +"Think of anything you could eat?" I asked; "try a chop, or what?" + +"Anything," said Van Sweller, enthusiastically, "except a grilled bone." + +Two weeks afterward the postman brought me a large, fat envelope. I +opened it, and took out something that I had seen before, and this +typewritten letter from a magazine that encourages society fiction: + + Your short story, "The Badge of Policeman O'Roon," is herewith + returned. + + We are sorry that it has been unfavorably passed upon; but it + seems to lack in some of the essential requirements of our + publication. + + The story is splendidly constructed; its style is strong and + inimitable, and its action and character-drawing deserve the + highest praise. As a story per se it has merit beyond anything + that we have read for some time. But, as we have said, it fails + to come up to some of the standards we have set. + + Could you not re-write the story, and inject into it the social + atmosphere, and return it to us for further consideration? It is + suggested to you that you have the hero, Van Sweller, drop in for + luncheon or dinner once or twice at ----* or at the ----* + [* See advertising column, "Where to Dine Well," in the daily + newspapers.] which will be in line with the changes desired. + Very truly yours, + THE EDITORS. + + + + + +SOUND AND FURY + +[O. Henry wrote this for Ainslee's Magazine, where it +appeared in March, 1903.] + +PERSONS OF THE DRAMA + +Mr. PENNE. . . . . . An Author +Miss LORE. . . . . . An Amanuensis + +SCENE--Workroom of Mr. Penne's popular novel factory. + +MR. PENNE--Good morning, Miss Lore. Glad to see you so prompt. We should +finish that June installment for the Epoch to-day. Leverett is crowding +me for it. Are you quite ready? We will resume where we left off +yesterday. (Dictates.) "Kate, with a sigh, rose from his knees, and----" + +Miss LORE--Excuse me; you mean "rose from her knees," instead of "his," +don't you? + +MR. PENNE--Er--no--"his," if you please. It is the love scene in the +garden. (Dictates.) "Rose from his knees where, blushing with youth's +bewitching coyness, she had rested for a moment after Cortland had +declared his love. The hour was one of supreme and tender joy. When +Kate--scene that Cortland never--" + +Miss LORE--Excuse me; but wouldn't it be more grammatical to say "when +Kate SAW," instead of "seen"? + +MR. PENNE--The context will explain. (DICTATES.) "When Kate--scene that +Cortland never forgot--came tripping across the lawn it seemed to him +the fairest sight that earth had ever offered to his gaze." + +Miss LORE--Oh! + +MR. PENNE (dictates)--"Kate had abandoned herself to the joy of her +new-found love so completely, that no shadow of her former grief was +cast upon it. Cortland, with his arm firmly entwined about her waist, +knew nothing of her sighs--" + +MISS LORE--Goodness! If he couldn't tell her size with his arm around-- + +MR. PENNE (frowning)--"Of her sighs and tears of the previous night." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +MR.PENNE (dictates)--"To Cortland the chief charm of this girl was her +look of innocence and unworldiness. Never had nun--" + +MISS LORE--How about changing that to "never had any?" + +MR. PENNE (emphatically)--"Never had nun in cloistered cell a face more +sweet and pure." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +MR. PENNE (dictates)--"But now Kate must hasten back to the house lest +her absence be discovered. After a fond farewell she turned and sped +lightly away. Cortland's gaze followed her. He watched her rise--" + +MISS LORE--Excuse me, Mr. Penne; but how could he watch her eyes while +her back was turned toward him? + +MR. PENNE (with extreme politeness)--Possibly you would gather my +meaning more intelligently if you would wait for the conclusion of the +sentence. (Dictates.) "Watched her rise as gracefully as a fawn as she +mounted the eastern terrace." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +Mr. PENNE (dictates)--"And yet Cortland's position was so far above that +of this rustic maiden that he dreaded to consider the social upheaval +that would ensue should he marry her. In no uncertain tones the +traditional voices of his caste and world cried out loudly to him to let +her go. What should follow----" + +MISS LORE (looking up with a start)--I'm sure I can't say, Mr. Penne. +Unless (with a giggle) you would want to add "Gallegher." + +Mr.PENNE (coldly)--Pardon me. I was not seeking to impose upon you the +task of a collaborator. Kindly consider the question a part of the text. + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +Mr. PENNE (dictates)--"On one side was love and Kate; on the other side +his heritage of social position and family pride. Would love win? Love, +that the poets tell us will last forever! (Perceives that Miss Lore +looks fatigued, and looks at his watch.) That's a good long stretch. +Perhaps we'd better knock off a bit." + +(Miss Lore does not reply.) + +Mr. PENNE--I said, Miss Lore, we've been at it quite a long time-- +wouldn't you like to knock off for a while? + +MISS LORE--Oh! Were you addressing me before? I put what you said down. +I thought it belonged in the story. It seemed to fit in all right. Oh, +no; I'm not tired. + +MR. PENNE--Very well, then, we will continue. (Dictates.) "In spite of +these qualms and doubts, Cortland was a happy man. That night at the +club he silently toasted Kate's bright eyes in a bumper of the rarest +vintage. Afterward he set out for a stroll with, as Kate on----" + +MISS LORE--Excuse me, Mr. Penne, for venturing a suggestion; but don't +you think you might state that in a less coarse manner? + +MR. PENNE (astounded)--Wh-wh--I'm afraid I fail to understand you. + +MISS LORE--His condition. Why not say he was "full" or "intoxicated"? It +would sound much more elegant than the way you express it. + +MR. PENNE (still darkly wandering)--Will you kindly point out, Miss +Lore, where I have intimated that Cortland was "full," if you prefer +that word? + +MISS LORE (calmly consulting her stenographic notes)--It is right here, +word for word. (Reads.) "Afterward he set out for a stroll with a skate +on." + +MR. PENNE (with peculiar emphasis)--Ah! And now will you kindly take +down the expurgated phrase? (Dictates.) "Afterward he set out for a +stroll with, as Kate on one occasion had fancifully told him, her spirit +leaning upon his arm." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +Mr. PENNE (dictates)--Chapter thirty-four. Heading--"What Kate Found in +the Garden." "That fragrant summer morning brought gracious tasks to +all. The bees were at the honeysuckle blossoms on the porch. Kate, +singing a little song, was training the riotous branches of her favorite +woodbine. The sun, himself, had rows----" + +MISS LORE--Shall I say "had risen"? + +MR. PENNE (very slowly and with desperate deliberation)--"The--sun-- +himself--had--rows--of--blushing--pinks--and--bollyhocks--and-- +hyacinths--waiting--that--he--might--dry--their--dew-drenched--cups." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +MR. PENNE(dictates)--"The earliest trolley, scattering the birds from +its pathway like some marauding cat, brought Cortland over from Oldport. +He had forgotten his fair--" + +MISS LORE--Hm! Wonder how he got the conductor to---- + +Mr. PENNE (very loudly)--"Forgotten his fair and roseate visions of the +night in the practical light of the sober morn." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +MR. PENNE (dictates)--"He greeted her with his usual smile and manner. +'See the waves,' he cried, pointing to the heaving waters of the sea, +'ever wooing and returning to the rockbound shore.'" "'Ready to break,' +Kate said, with----" + +MISS LORE--My! One evening he has his arm around her, and the next +morning he's ready to break her head! Just like a man! + +MR. PENNE (with suspicious calmness)--There are times, Miss Lore, when a +man becomes so far exasperated that even a woman--But suppose we finish +the sentence. (Dictates.) "'Ready to break,' Kate said, with the +thrilling look of a soul-awakened woman, 'into foam and spray, +destroying themselves upon the shore they love so well." + +MISS LORE--Oh! + +MR. PENNE (dictates)--"Cortland, in Kate's presence heard faintly the +voice of caution. Thirty years had not cooled his ardor. It was in his +power to bestow great gifts upon this girl. He still retained the +beliefs that he had at twenty." (To Miss Lore, wearily) I think that +will be enough for the present. + +MISS LORE (wisely)--Well, if he had the twenty that he believed he had, +it might buy her a rather nice one. + +MR. PENNE (faintly)--The last sentence was my own. We will discontinue +for the day, Miss Lore. + +MISS LORE--Shall I come again to-morrow? + +MR. PENNE (helpless under the spell)--If you will be so good. + +(Exit Miss Lore.) + +ASBESTOS CURTAIN + + + + + +TICTOCQ + +[These two farcical stories about Tictocq appeared in +The Rolling Stone. They are reprinted here with all of +their local references because, written hurriedly and for +neighborly reading, they nevertheless have an interest for +the admirer of O. Henry. They were written in 1894.] + + +THE GREAT FRENCH DETECTIVE, IN AUSTIN + +A Successful Political Intrigue + +CHAPTER I + +It is not generally known that Tictocq, the famous French detective, was +in Austin last week. He registered at the Avenue Hotel under an assumed +name, and his quiet and reserved manners singled him out at once for one +not to be singled out. + +No one knows why he came to Austin, but to one or two he vouchsafed the +information that his mission was an important one from the French +Government. + +One report is that the French Minister of State has discovered an old +statute among the laws of the empire, resulting from a treaty between +the Emperor Charlemagne and Governor Roberts which expressly provides +for the north gate of the Capital grounds being kept open, but this is +merely a conjecture. + +Last Wednesday afternoon a well-dressed gentleman knocked at the door of +Tictocq's room in the hotel. The detective opened the door. + +"Monsieur Tictocq, I believe," said the gentleman. + +"You will see on the register that I sign my name Q. X. Jones," said +Tictocq, "and gentlemen would understand that I wish to be known as +such. If you do not like being referred to as no gentleman, I will give +you satisfaction any time after July 1st, and fight Steve O'Donnell, +John McDonald, and Ignatius Donnelly in the meantime if you desire." + +"I do not mind it in the least," said the gentleman. "In fact, I am +accustomed to it. I am Chairman of the Democratic Executive Committee, +Platform No. 2, and I have a friend in trouble. I knew you were Tictocq +from your resemblance to yourself." + +"Entrez vous," said the detective. + +The gentleman entered and was handed a chair. + +"I am a man of few words," said Tictoq. "I will help your friend if +possible. Our countries are great friends. We have given you Lafayette +and French fried potatoes. You have given us California champagne +and--taken back Ward McAllister. State your case." + +"I will be very brief," said the visitor. "In room No. 76 in this hotel +is stopping a prominent Populist Candidate. He is alone. Last night some +one stole his socks. They cannot be found. If they are not recovered, +his party will attribute their loss to the Democracy. They will make +great capital of the burglary, although I am sure it was not a political +move at all. The socks must be recovered. You are the only man that can +do it." + +Tictocq bowed. + +"Am I to have carte blanche to question every person connected with the +hotel?" + +"The proprietor has already been spoken to. Everything and everybody is +at your service." + +Tictocq consulted his watch. "Come to this room to-morrow afternoon at 6 +o'clock with the landlord, the Populist Candidate, and any other +witnesses elected from both parties, and I will return the socks." + +"Bien, Monsieur; schlafen sie wohl." + +"Au revoir." + +The Chairman of the Democratic Executive Committee, Platform No.2, bowed +courteously and withdrew. + + * * * * + +Tictocq sent for the bell boy. "Did you go to room 76 last night?" + +"Yes, sir." + +"Who was there?" + +"An old hayseed what come on the 7:25." + +"What did he want?" + +"The bouncer." + +"What for?" + +"To put the light out." + +"Did you take anything while in the room?" + +"No, he didn't ask me." + +"What is your name?" + +"Jim." + +"You can go." + + + + + +CHAPTER II + +The drawing-rooms of one of the most magnificent private residences in +Austin are a blaze of lights. Carriages line the streets in front, and +from gate to doorway is spread a velvet carpet, on which the delicate +feet of the guests may tread. + +The occasion is the entree into society of one of the fairest buds in +the City of the Violet Crown. The rooms are filled with the culture, the +beauty, the youth and fashion of society. Austin society is acknowledged +to be the wittiest, the most select, and the highest bred to be found +southwest of Kansas City. + +Mrs. Rutabaga St. Vitus, the hostess, is accustomed to draw around her a +circle of talent, and beauty, rarely equalled anywhere. Her evenings +come nearer approaching the dignity of a salon than any occasion, +except, perhaps, a Tony Faust and Marguerite reception at the Iron +Front. + +Miss St. Vitus, whose advent into society's maze was heralded by such an +auspicious display of hospitality, is a slender brunette, with large, +lustrous eyes, a winning smile, and a charming ingenue manner. She wears +a china silk, cut princesse, with diamond ornaments, and a couple of +towels inserted in the back to conceal prominence of shoulder blades. +She is chatting easily and naturally on a plush covered tete-a-tete with +Harold St. Clair, the agent for a Minneapolis pants company. Her friend +and schoolmate, Elsie Hicks, who married three drummers in one day, a +week or two before, and won a wager of two dozen bottles of Budweiser +from the handsome and talented young hack-driver, Bum Smithers, is +promenading in and out the low French windows with Ethelbert Windup, the +popular young candidate for hide inspector, whose name is familiar to +every one who reads police court reports. + +Somewhere, concealed by shrubbery, a band is playing, and during the +pauses in conversation, onions can be smelt frying in the kitchen. + +Happy laughter rings out from ruby lips, handsome faces grow tender as +they bend over white necks and drooping beads; timid eyes convey things +that lips dare not speak, and beneath silken bodice and broadcloth, +hearts beat time to the sweet notes of "Love's Young Dream." + +"And where have you been for some time past, you recreant cavalier?" +says Miss St. Vitus to Harold St. Clair. "Have you been worshipping at +another shrine? Are you recreant to your whilom friends? Speak, Sir +Knight, and defend yourself." + +"Oh, come off," says Harold, in his deep, musical baritone; "I've been +having a devil of a time fitting pants on a lot of bow-legged jays from +the cotton-patch. Got knobs on their legs, some of 'em big as gourds, +and all expect a fit. Did you every try to measure a bow-legged--I +mean--can't you imagine what a jam-swizzled time I have getting pants to +fit 'em? Business dull too, nobody wants 'em over three dollars." + +"You witty boy," says Miss St. Vitus. "Just as full of bon mots and +clever sayings as ever. What do you take now?" + +"Oh, beer." + +"Give me your arm and let's go into the drawing-room and draw a cork. +I'm chewing a little cotton myself." + +Arm in arm, the handsome couple pass across the room, the cynosure of +all eyes. Luderic Hetherington, the rising and gifted night-watchman at +the Lone Star slaughter house, and Mabel Grubb, the daughter of the +millionaire owner of the Humped-backed Camel saloon, are standing under +the oleanders as they go by. + +"She is very beautiful," says Luderic. + +"Rats," says Mabel. + +A keen observer would have noted all this time the figure of a solitary +man who seemed to avoid the company but by adroit changing of his +position, and perfectly cool and self-possessed manner, avoided drawing +any especial attention to himself. + +The lion of the evening is Herr Professor Ludwig von Bum, the pianist. + +He had been found drinking beer in a saloon on East Pecan Street by +Colonel St. Vitus about a week before, and according to the Austin +custom in such cases, was invited home by the colonel, and the next day +accepted into society, with large music classes at his service. + +Professor von Bum is playing the lovely symphony in G minor from +Beethoven's "Songs Without Music." The grand chords fill the room with +exquisite harmony. He plays the extremely difficult passages in the +obligato home run in a masterly manner, and when he finishes with that +grand te deum with arpeggios on the side, there is that complete hush in +the room that is dearer to the artist's heart than the loudest applause. + +The professor looks around. + +The room is empty. + +Empty with the exception of Tictocq, the great French detective, who +springs from behind a mass of tropical plants to his side. + +The professor rises in alarm. + +"Hush," says Tictocq: "Make no noise at all. You have already made +enough." + +Footsteps are heard outside. + +"Be quick," says Tictocq: "give me those socks. There is not a moment to +spare." + +"Vas sagst du?" + +"Ah, he confesses," says Tictocq. "No socks will do but those you +carried off from the Populist Candidate's room." + +The company is returning, no longer hearing the music. + +Tictooq hesitates not. He seizes the professor, throws him upon the +floor, tears off his shoes and socks, and escapes with the latter +through the open window into the garden. + + + + + +CHAPTER III + +Tictocq's room in the Avenue Hotel. + +A knock is heard at the door. + +Tictocq opens it and looks at his watch. + +"Ah," he says, "it is just six. Entrez, Messieurs." + +The messieurs entrez. There are seven of them; the Populist Candidate +who is there by invitation, not knowing for what purpose; the chairman +of the Democratic Executive Committee, platform No. 2, the hotel +proprietor, and three or four Democrats and Populists, as near as could +be found out. + +"I don't know," begins the Populist Candidate, "what in the h----" + +"Excuse me," says Tictocq, firmly. "You will oblige me by keeping silent +until I make my report. I have been employed in this case, and I have +unravelled it. For the honor of France I request that I be heard with +attention." + +"Certainly," says the chairman; "we will be pleased to listen." + +Tictocq stands in the centre of the room. The electric light burns +brightly above him. He seems the incarnation of alertness, vigor, +cleverness, and cunning. + +The company seat themselves in chairs along the wall. + +"When informed of the robbery," begins Tictocq, "I first questioned the +bell boy. He knew nothing. I went to the police headquarters. They knew +nothing. I invited one of them to the bar to drink. He said there used +to be a little colored boy in the Tenth Ward who stole things and kept +them for recovery by the police, but failed to be at the place agreed +upon for arrest one time, and had been sent to jail. + +"I then began to think. I reasoned. No man, said I, would carry a +Populist's socks in his pocket without wrapping them up. He would not +want to do so in the hotel. He would want a paper. Where would he get +one? At the Statesman office, of course. I went there. A young man with +his hair combed down on his forehead sat behind the desk. I knew he was +writing society items, for a young lady's slipper, a piece of cake, a +fan, a half emptied bottle of cocktail, a bunch of roses, and a police +whistle lay on the desk before him. + +"Can you tell me if a man purchased a paper here in the last three +months?" I said. + +"Yes," he replied; "we sold one last night." + +"Can you describe the man?" + +"Accurately. He had blue whiskers, a wart between his shoulder blades, a +touch of colic, and an occupation tax on his breath." + +"Which way did he go?" + +"Out." + +"I then went----" + +"Wait a minute," said the Populist Candidate, rising; "I don't see why +in the h----" + +"Once more I must beg that you will be silent," said Tictocq, rather +sharply. "You should not interrupt me in the midst of my report." + +"I made one false arrest," continued Tictocq. "I was passing two finely +dressed gentlemen on the street, when one of them remarked that he had +'stole his socks.' I handcuffed him and dragged him to a lighted store, +when his companion explained to me that he was somewhat intoxicated and +his tongue was not entirely manageable. He had been speaking of some +business transaction, and what he intended to say was that he had 'sold +his stocks.' + +"I then released him. + +"An hour afterward I passed a saloon, and saw this Professor von Bum +drinking beer at a table. I knew him in Paris. I said 'here is my man.' +He worshipped Wagner, lived on limburger cheese, beer, and credit, and +would have stolen anybody's socks. I shadowed him to the reception at +Colonel St. Vitus's, and in an opportune moment I seized him and tore +the socks from his feet. There they are." + +With a dramatic gesture, Tictocq threw a pair of dingy socks upon the +table, folded his arms, and threw back his head. + +With a loud cry of rage, the Populist Candidate sprang once more to his +feet. + +"Gol darn it! I WILL say what I want to. I----" + +The two other Populists in the room gazed at him coldly and sternly. + +"Is this tale true?" they demanded of the Candidate. + +"No, by gosh, it ain't!" he replied, pointing a trembling finger at the +Democratic Chairman. "There stands the man who has concocted the whole +scheme. It is an infernal, unfair political trick to lose votes for our +party. How far has thing gone?" he added, turning savagely to the +detective. + +"All the newspapers have my written report on the matter, and the +Statesman will have it in plate matter next week," said Tictocq, +complacently. + +"All is lost!" said the Populists, turning toward the door. + +"For God's sake, my friends," pleaded the Candidate, following them; +"listen to me; I swear before high heaven that I never wore a pair of +socks in my life. It is all a devilish campaign lie." + +The Populists turn their backs. + +"The damage is already done," they said. "The people have heard the +story. You have yet time to withdraw decently before the race." + +All left the room except Tictocq and the Democrats. + +"Let's all go down and open a bottle of fizz on the Finance Committee," +said the Chairman of the Executive Committee, Platform No. 2. + + + + + +TRACKED TO DOOM + +OR + +THE MYSTERY OF THE RUE DE PEYCHAUD + + +'Tis midnight in Paris. + +A myriad of lamps that line the Champs Elysees and the Rouge et Noir, +cast their reflection in the dark waters of the Seine as it flows +gloomily past the Place Vendome and the black walls of the Convent +Notadam. + +The great French capital is astir. + +It is the hour when crime and vice and wickedness reign. + +Hundreds of fiacres drive madly through the streets conveying women, +flashing with jewels and as beautiful as dreams, from opera and concert, +and the little bijou supper rooms of the Cafe Tout le Temps are filled +with laughing groups, while bon mots, persiflage and repartee fly upon +the air--the jewels of thought and conversation. + +Luxury and poverty brush each other in the streets. The homeless gamin, +begging a sou with which to purchase a bed, and the spendthrift roue, +scattering golden louis d'or, tread the same pavement. + +When other cities sleep, Paris has just begun her wild revelry. + +The first scene of our story is a cellar beneath the Rue de Peychaud. + +The room is filled with smoke of pipes, and is stifling with the reeking +breath of its inmates. A single flaring gas jet dimly lights the scene, +which is one Rembrandt or Moreland and Keisel would have loved to paint. + +A garcon is selling absinthe to such of the motley crowd as have a few +sous, dealing it out in niggardly portions in broken teacups. + +Leaning against the bar is Carnaignole Cusheau--generally known as the +Gray Wolf. + +He is the worst man in Paris. + +He is more than four feet ten in height, and his sharp, ferocious +looking face and the mass of long, tangled gray hair that covers his +face and head, have earned for him the name he bears. + +His striped blouse is wide open at the neck and falls outside of his +dingy leather trousers. The handle of a deadly looking knife protrudes +from his belt. One stroke of its blade would open a box of the finest +French sardines. + +"Voila, Gray Wolf," cries Couteau, the bartender. "How many victims +to-day? There is no blood upon your hands. Has the Gray Wolf forgotten +how to bite?" + +"Sacre Bleu, Mille Tonnerre, by George," hisses the Gray Wolf. "Monsieur +Couteau, you are bold indeed to speak to me thus. + +"By Ventre St. Gris! I have not even dined to-day. Spoils indeed. There +is no living in Paris now. But one rich American have I garroted in a +fortnight. + +"Bah! those Democrats. They have ruined the country. With their income +tax and their free trade, they have destroyed the millionaire business. +Carrambo! Diable! D--n it!" + +"Hist!" suddenly says Chamounix the rag-picker, who is worth 20,000,000 +francs, "some one comes!" + +The cellar door opened and a man crept softly down the rickety steps. +The crowd watches him with silent awe. + +He went to the bar, laid his card on the counter, bought a drink of +absinthe, and then drawing from his pocket a little mirror, set it up on +the counter and proceeded to don a false beard and hair and paint his +face into wrinkles, until he closely resembled an old man seventy-one +years of age. + +He then went into a dark corner and watched the crowd of people with +sharp, ferret-like eyes. + +Gray Wolf slipped cautiously to the bar and examined the card left by +the newcomer. + +"Holy Saint Bridget!" he exclaims. "It is Tictocq, the detective." + +Ten minutes later a beautiful woman enters the cellar. Tenderly +nurtured, and accustomed to every luxury that money could procure, she +had, when a young vivandiere at the Convent of Saint Susan de la +Montarde, run away with the Gray Wolf, fascinated by his many crimes and +the knowledge that his business never allowed him to scrape his feet in +the hall or snore. + +"Parbleu, Marie," snarls the Gray Wolf. "Que voulez vous? Avez-vous le +beau cheval de mon frere, oule joli chien de votre pere?" + +"No, no, Gray Wolf," shouts the motley group of assassins, rogues and +pickpockets, even their hardened hearts appalled at his fearful words. +Mon Dieu! You cannot be so cruel!" + +"Tiens!" shouts the Gray Wolf, now maddened to desperation, and drawing +his gleaming knife. "Voila! Canaille! Tout le monde, carte blanche +enbonpoint sauve que peut entre nous revenez nous a nous moutons!" + +The horrifed sans-culottes shrink back in terror as the Gray Wolf seizes +Maria by the hair and cuts her into twenty-nine pieces, each exactly the +same size. + +As he stands with reeking hands above the corpse, amid a deep silence, +the old, gray-bearded man who has been watching the scene springs +forward, tears off his false beard and locks, and Tictocq, the famous +French detective, stands before them. + +Spellbound and immovable, the denizens of the cellar gaze at the +greatest modern detective as he goes about the customary duties of his +office. + +He first measures the distance from the murdered woman to a point on the +wall, then he takes down the name of the bartender and the day of the +month and the year. Then drawing from his pocket a powerful microscope, +he examines a little of the blood that stands upon the floor in little +pools. + +"Mon Dieu!" he mutters, "it is as I feared--human blood." + +He then enters rapidly in a memorandum book the result of his +investigations, and leaves the cellar. + +Tictocq bends his rapid steps in the direction of the headquarters of +the Paris gendarmerie, but suddenly pausing, he strikes his hand upon +his brow with a gesture of impatience. + +"Mille tonnerre," he mutters. "I should have asked the name of that man +with the knife in his hand." + + * * * * + +It is reception night at the palace of the Duchess Valerie du Bellairs. + +The apartments are flooded with a mellow light from paraffine candles in +solid silver candelabra. + +The company is the most aristocratic and wealthy in Paris. + +Three or four brass bands are playing behind a portiere between the coal +shed, and also behind time. Footmen in gay-laced livery bring in beer +noiselessly and carry out apple-peelings dropped by the guests. + +Valerie, seventh Duchess du Bellairs, leans back on a solid gold ottoman +on eiderdown cushions, surrounded by the wittiest, the bravest, and the +handsomest courtiers in the capital. + +"Ah, madame," said the Prince Champvilliers, of Palms Royale, corner of +Seventy-third Street, "as Montesquiaux says, 'Rien de plus bon tutti +frutti'--Youth seems your inheritance. You are to-night the most +beautiful, the wittiest in your own salon. I can scarce believe my own +senses, when I remember that thirty-one years ago you--" + +"Saw it off!" says the Duchess peremptorily. + +The Prince bows low, and drawing a jewelled dagger, stabs himself to the +heart. + +"The displeasure of your grace is worse than death," he says, as he +takes his overcoat and hat from a corner of the mantelpiece and leaves +the room. + +"Voila," says Beebe Francillon, fanning herself languidly. "That is the +way with men. Flatter them, and they kiss your hand. Loose but a moment +the silken leash that holds them captive through their vanity and +self-opinionativeness, and the son-of-a-gun gets on his ear at once. The +devil go with him, I say." + +"Ah, mon Princesse," sighs the Count Pumpernickel, stooping and +whispering with eloquent eyes into her ear. "You are too hard upon us. +Balzac says, 'All women are not to themselves what no one else is to +another.' Do you not agree with him?" + +"Cheese it!" says the Princess. "Philosophy palls upon me. I'll shake +you." + +"Hosses?" says the Count. + +Arm and arm they go out to the salon au Beurre. + +Armande de Fleury, the young pianissimo danseuse from the Folies Bergere +is about to sing. + +She slightly clears her throat and lays a voluptuous cud of chewing gum +upon the piano as the first notes of the accompaniment ring through the +salon. + +As she prepares to sing, the Duchess du Bellairs grasps the arm of her +ottoman in a vice-like grip, and she watches with an expression of +almost anguished suspense. + +She scarcely breathes. + +Then, as Armande de Fleury, before uttering a note, reels, wavers, turns +white as snow and falls dead upon the floor, the Duchess breathes a sigh +of relief. + +The Duchess had poisoned her. + +Then the guests crowd about the piano, gazing with bated breath, and +shuddering as they look upon the music rack and observe that the song +that Armande came so near singing is "Sweet Marie." + +Twenty minutes later a dark and muffled figure was seen to emerge from a +recess in the mullioned wall of the Arc de Triomphe and pass rapidly +northward. + +It was no other than Tictocq, the detective. + +The network of evidence was fast being drawn about the murderer of Marie +Cusheau. + + . . . . . . + +It is midnight on the steeple of the Cathedral of Notadam. + +It is also the same time at other given points in the vicinity. + +The spire of the Cathedral is 20,000 feet above the pavement, and a +casual observer, by making a rapid mathematical calculation, would have +readily perceived that this Cathedral is, at least, double the height of +others that measure only 10,000 feet. + +At the summit of the spire there is a little wooden platform on which +there is room for but one man to stand. + +Crouching on this precarious footing, which swayed, dizzily with every +breeze that blew, was a man closely muffled, and disguised as a +wholesale grocer. + +Old Francois Beongfallong, the great astronomer, who is studying the +sidereal spheres from his attic window in the Rue de Bologny, shudders +as he turns his telescope upon the solitary figure upon the spire. + +"Sacre Bleu!" he hisses between his new celluloid teeth. "It is Tictocq, +the detective. I wonder whom he is following now?" + +While Tictocq is watching with lynx-like eyes the hill of Montmartre, he +suddenly hears a heavy breathing beside him, and turning, gazes into the +ferocious eyes of the Gray Wolf. + +Carnaignole Cusheau had put on his W. U. Tel. Co. climbers and climbed +the steeple. + +"Parbleu, monsieur," says Tictocq. "To whom am I indebted for the honor +of this visit?" + +The Gray Wolf smiled softly and depreciatingly. + +"You are Tictocq, the detective?" he said. + +"I am." + +"Then listen. I am the murderer of Marie Cusheau. She was my wife and +she had cold feet and ate onions. What was I to do? Yet life is sweet to +me. I do not wish to be guillotined. I have heard that you are on my +track. Is it true that the case is in your hands?" + +"It is." + +"Thank le bon Dieu, then, I am saved." + +The Gray Wolf carefully adjusts the climbers on his feet and descends +the spire. + +Tictocq takes out his notebook and writes in it. + +"At last," he says, "I have a clue." + +Monsieur le Compte Carnaignole Cusheau, once known as the Gray Wolf, +stands in the magnificent drawing-room of his palace on East 47th +Street. + +Three days after his confession to Tictocq, he happened to look in the +pockets of a discarded pair of pants and found twenty million francs in +gold. + +Suddenly the door opens and Tictocq, the detective, with a dozen +gensd'arme, enters the room. + +"You are my prisoner," says the detective. + +"On what charge?" + +"The murder of Marie Cusheau on the night of August 17th." + +"Your proofs?" + +"I saw you do it, and your own confession on the spire of Notadam." + +The Count laughed and took a paper from his pocket. "Read this," he +said, "here is proof that Marie Cusheau died of heart failure." + +Tictocq looked at the paper. + +It was a check for 100,000 francs. + +Tictocq dismissed the gensd'arme with a wave of his hand. + +"We have made a mistake, monsieurs," he said, but as he turns to leave +the room, Count Carnaignole stops him. + +"One moment, monsieur." + +The Count Carnaignole tears from his own face a false beard and reveals +the flashing eyes and well-known features of Tictocq, the detective. + +Then, springing forward, he snatches a wig and false eyebrows from his +visitor, and the Gray Wolf, grinding his teeth in rage, stands before +him. + +The murderer of Marie Cusheau was never discovered. + + + + + +A SNAPSHOT AT THE PRESIDENT + +[This is the kind of waggish editorial O. Henry was writing in +1894 for the readers of THE ROLLING STONE. The reader will do +well to remember that the paper was for local consumption and +that the allusions are to a very special place and time.] + +(It will be remembered that about a month ago there were special rates +offered to the public for a round trip to the City of Washington. The +price of the ticket being exceedingly low, we secured a loan of twenty +dollars from a public-spirited citizen of Austin, by mortgaging our +press and cow, with the additional security of our brother's name and a +slight draught on Major Hutchinson for $4,000. + +We purchased a round trip ticket, two loaves of Vienna bread, and quite +a large piece of cheese, which we handed to a member of our reportorial +staff, with instructions to go to Washington, interview President +Cleveland, and get a scoop, if possible, on all other Texas papers. + +Our reporter came in yesterday morning, via the Manor dirt road, with a +large piece of folded cotton bagging tied under each foot. + +It seems that he lost his ticket in Washington, and having divided the +Vienna bread and cheese with some disappointed office seekers who were +coming home by the same route, he arrived home hungry, desiring food, +and with quite an appetite. + +Although somewhat late, we give his description of his interview with +President Cleveland.) + + +I am chief reporter on the staff of THE ROLLING STONE. + +About a month ago the managing editor came into the room where we were +both sitting engaged in conversation and said: + +"Oh, by the way, go to Washington and interview President Cleveland." + +"All right," said I. "Take care of yourself." + +Five minutes later I was seated in a palatial drawing-room car bounding +up and down quite a good deal on the elastic plush-covered seat. + +I shall not linger upon the incidents of the journey. I was given carte +blanche to provide myself with every comfort, and to spare no expense +that I could meet. For the regalement of my inside the preparations had +been lavish. Both Vienna and Germany had been called upon to furnish +dainty viands suitable to my palate. + +I changed cars and shirts once only on the journey. A stranger wanted me +to also change a two-dollar bill, but I haughtily declined. + +The scenery along the entire road to Washington is diversified. You find +a portion of it on one hand by looking out of the window, and upon +turning the gaze upon the other side the eye is surprised and delighted +by discovering some more of it. + +There were a great many Knights of Pythias on the train. One of them +insisted upon my giving him the grip I had with me, but he was +unsuccessful. + +On arriving in Washington, which city I instantly recognized from +reading the history of George, I left the car so hastily that I forgot +to fee Mr. Pullman's representative. + +I went immediately to the Capitol. + +In a spirit of jeu d'esprit I had had made a globular representation of +a "rolling stone." It was of wood, painted a dark color, and about the +size of a small cannon ball. I had attached to it a twisted pendant +about three inches long to indicate moss. I had resolved to use this in +place of a card, thinking people would readily recognize it as an emblem +of my paper. + +I had studied the arrangement of the Capitol, and walked directly to Mr. +Cleveland's private office. + +I met a servant in the hall, and held up my card to him smilingly. + +I saw his hair rise on his head, and he ran like a deer to the door, +and, lying down, rolled down the long flight of steps into the yard. + +"Ah," said I to myself, "he is one of our delinquent subscribers." + +A little farther along I met the President's private secretary, who had +been writing a tariff letter and cleaning a duck gun for Mr. Cleveland. + +When I showed him the emblem of my paper he sprang out of a high window +into a hothouse filled with rare flowers. + +This somewhat surprised me. + +I examined myself. My hat was on straight, and there was nothing at all +alarming about my appearance. + +I went into the President's private office. + +He was alone. He was conversing with Tom Ochiltree. Mr. Ochiltree saw my +little sphere, and with a loud scream rushed out of the room. + +President Cleveland slowly turned his eyes upon me. + +He also saw what I had in my hand, and said in a husky voice: + +"Wait a moment, please." + +He searched his coat pocket, and presently found a piece of paper on +which some words were written. + +He laid this on his desk and rose to his feet, raised one hand above +him, and said in deep tones: + +"I die for Free Trade, my country, and--and--all that sort of thing." + +I saw him jerk a string, and a camera snapped on another table, taking +our picture as we stood. + +"Don't die in the House, Mr. President," I said. "Go over into the +Senate Chamber." + +"Peace, murderer!" he said. "Let your bomb do its deadly work." + +"I'm no bum," I said, with spirit. "I represent THE ROLLING STONE, of +Austin, Texas, and this I hold in my hand does the same thing, but, it +seems, unsuccessfully." + +The President sank back in his chair greatly relieved. + +"I thought you were a dynamiter," he said. "Let me see; Texas! Texas!" +He walked to a large wall map of the United States, and placing his +finger thereon at about the location of Idaho, ran it down in a zigzag, +doubtful way until he reached Texas. + +"Oh, yes, here it is. I have so many things on my mind, I sometimes +forget what I should know well. + +"Let's see; Texas? Oh, yes, that's the State where Ida Wells and a lot +of colored people lynched a socialist named Hogg for raising a riot at a +camp-meeting. So you are from Texas. I know a man from Texas named Dave +Culberson. How is Dave and his family? Has Dave got any children?" + +"He has a boy in Austin," I said, "working around the Capitol." + +"Who is President of Texas now?" + +"I don't exactly--" + +"Oh, excuse me. I forgot again. I thought I heard some talk of its +having been made a Republic again." + +"Now, Mr. Cleveland," I said, "you answer some of my questions." + +A curious film came over the President's eyes. He sat stiffly in his +chair like an automaton. + +"Proceed," he said. + +"What do you think of the political future of this country?" + +"I will state that political exigencies demand emergentistical +promptitude, and while the United States is indissoluble in conception +and invisible in intent, treason and internecine disagreement have +ruptured the consanguinity of patriotism, and--" + +"One moment, Mr. President," I interrupted; "would you mind changing +that cylinder? I could have gotten all that from the American Press +Association if I had wanted plate matter. Do you wear flannels? What is +your favorite poet, brand of catsup, bird, flower, and what are you +going to do when you are out of a job?" + +"Young man," said Mr. Cleveland, sternly, "you are going a little too +far. My private affairs do not concern the public." + +I begged his pardon, and he recovered his good humor in a moment. + +"You Texans have a great representative in Senator Mills," he said. "I +think the greatest two speeches I ever heard were his address before the +Senate advocating the removal of the tariff on salt and increasing it on +chloride of sodium." + +"Tom Ochiltree is also from our State," I said. + +"Oh, no, he isn't. You must be mistaken," replied Mr. Cleveland, "for he +says he is. I really must go down to Texas some time, and see the State. +I want to go up into the Panhandle and see if it is really shaped like +it is on the map." + +"Well, I must be going," said I. + +"When you get back to Texas," said the President, rising, "you must +write to me. Your visit has awakened in me quite an interest in your +State which I fear I have not given the attention it deserves. There are +many historical and otherwise interesting places that you have revived +in my recollection--the Alamo, where Davy Jones fell; Goliad, Sam +Houston's surrender to Montezuma, the petrified boom found near Austin, +five-cent cotton and the Siamese Democratic platform born in Dallas. I +should so much like to see the gals in Galveston, and go to the wake in +Waco. I am glad I met you. Turn to the left as you enter the hall and +keep straight on out." I made a low bow to signify that the interview +was at an end, and withdrew immiediately. I had no difficulty in leaving +the building as soon as I was outside. + +I hurried downtown in order to obtain refreshments at some place where +viands had been placed upon the free list. + +I shall not describe my journey back to Austin. I lost my return ticket +somewhere in the White House, and was forced to return home in a manner +not especially beneficial to my shoes. Everybody was well in Washington +when I left, and all send their love. + + + + + +AN UNFINISHED CHRISTMAS STORY + +[Probably begun several years before his death. Published, +as it here appears, in SHORT STORIES, January, 1911.] + + +Now, a Christmas story should be one. For a good +many years the ingenious writers have been putting forth +tales for the holiday numbers that employed every +subtle, evasive, indirect and strategic scheme they could +invent to disguise the Christmas flavor. So far has this +new practice been carried that nowadays when you read +a story in a holiday magazine the only way you can tell +it is a Christmas story is to look at the footnote which +reads: ["The incidents in the above story happened on +December 25th.--ED."] + +There is progress in this; but it is all very sad. There are just as +many real Christmas stories as ever, if we would only dig 'em up. Me, I +am for the Scrooge and Marley Christmas story, and the Annie and +Willie's prayer poem, and the long lost son coming home on the stroke of +twelve to the poorly thatched cottage with his arms full of talking +dolls and popcorn balls and--Zip! you hear the second mortgage on the +cottage go flying off it into the deep snow. + +So, this is to warn you that there is no subterfuge about this +story--and you might come upon stockings hung to the mantel and plum +puddings and hark! the chimes! and wealthy misers loosening up and +handing over penny whistles to lame newsboys if you read further. + +Once I knocked at a door (I have so many things to tell you I keep on +losing sight of the story). It was the front door of a furnished room +house in West 'Teenth Street. I was looking for a young illustrator +named Paley originally and irrevocably from Terre Haute. Paley doesn't +enter even into the first serial rights of this Christmas story; I +mention him simply in explaining why I came to knock at the door--some +people have so much curiosity. + +The door was opened by the landlady. I had seen hundreds like her. And I +had smelled before that cold, dank, furnished draught of air that +hurried by her to escape immurement in the furnished house. + +She was stout, and her face and lands were as white as though she had +been drowned in a barrel of vinegar. One hand held together at her +throat a buttonless flannel dressing sacque whose lines had been cut by +no tape or butterick known to mortal woman. Beneath this a too-long, +flowered, black sateen skirt was draped about her, reaching the floor in +stiff wrinkles and folds. + +The rest of her was yellow. Her hair, in some bygone age, had been +dipped in the fountain of folly presided over by the merry nymph +Hydrogen; but now, except at the roots, it had returned to its natural +grim and grizzled white. + +Her eyes and teeth and finger nails were yellow. Her chops hung low and +shook when she moved. The look on her face was exactly that smileless +look of fatal melancholy that you may have seen on the countenance of a +hound left sitting on the doorstep of a deserted cabin. + +I inquired for Paley. After a long look of cold suspicion the landlady +spoke, and her voice matched the dingy roughness of her flannel sacque. + +Paley? Was I sure that was the name? And wasn't it, likely, Mr. +Sanderson I meant, in the third floor rear? No; it was Paley I wanted. +Again that frozen, shrewd, steady study of my soul from her pale-yellow, +unwinking eyes, trying to penetrate my mask of deception and rout out my +true motives from my lying lips. There was a Mr. Tompkins in the front +hall bedroom two flights up. Perhaps it was he I was seeking. He worked +of nights; he never came in till seven in the morning. Or if it was +really Mr. Tucker (thinly disguised as Paley) that I was hunting I would +have to call between five and ---- + +But no; I held firmly to Paley. There was no such name among her +lodgers. Click! the door closed swiftly in my face; and I heard through +the panels the clanking of chains and bolts. + +I went down the steps and stopped to consider. The number of this house +was 43. I was sure Paley had said 43--or perhaps it was 45 or 47--I +decided to try 47, the second house farther along. + +I rang the bell. The door opened; and there stood the same woman. I +wasn't confronted by just a resemblance--it was the SAME woman holding +together the same old sacque at her throat and looking at me with the +same yellow eyes as if she had never seen me before on earth. I saw on +the knuckle of her second finger the same red-and-black spot made, +probably, by a recent burn against a hot stove. + +I stood speechless and gaping while one with moderate haste might have +told fifty. I couldn't have spoken Paley's name even if I had remembered +it. I did the only thing that a brave man who believes there are +mysterious forces in nature that we do not yet fully comprehend could +have done in the circumstances. I backed down the steps to the sidewalk +and then hurried away frontward, fully understanding how incidents like +that must bother the psychical research people and the census takers. + +Of course I heard an explanation of it afterward, as we always do about +inexplicable things. + +The landlady was Mrs. Kannon; and she leased three adjoining houses, +which she made into one by cutting arched doorways through the walls. +She sat in the middle house and answered the three bells. + +I wonder why I have maundered so slowly through the prologue. I have it! +it was simply to say to you, in the form of introduction rife through +the Middle West: "Shake hands with Mrs. Kannon." + +For, it was in her triple house that the Christmas story happened; and +it was there where I picked up the incontrovertible facts from the +gossip of many roomers and met Stickney--and saw the necktie. + +Christmas came that year on Thursday, and snow came with it. + +Stickney (Harry Clarence Fowler Stickney to whomsoever his full +baptismal cognominal burdens may be of interest) reached his address at +six-thirty Wednesday afternoon. "Address" is New Yorkese for "home." +Stickney roomed at 45 West 'Teenth Street, third floor rear hall room. +He was twenty years and four months old, and he worked in a +cameras-of-all-kinds, photographic supplies and films-developed store. I +don't know what kind of work he did in the store; but you must have seen +him. He is the young man who always comes behind the counter to wait on +you and lets you talk for five minutes, telling him what you want. When +you are done, he calls the proprietor at the top of his voice to wait on +you, and walks away whistling between his teeth. + +I don't want to bother about describing to you his appearance; but, if +you are a man reader, I will say that Stickncy looked precisely like the +young chap that you always find sitting in your chair smoking a +cigarette after you have missed a shot while playing pool--not billiards +but pool--when you want to sit down yourself. + +There are some to whom Christmas gives no Christmassy essence. Of +course, prosperous people and comfortable people who have homes or flats +or rooms with meals, and even people who live in apartment houses with +hotel service get something of the Christmas flavor. They give one +another presents with the cost mark scratched off with a penknife; and +they hang holly wreaths in the front windows and when they are asked +whether they prefer light or dark meat from the turkey they say: "Both, +please," and giggle and have lots of fun. And the very poorest people +have the best time of it. The Army gives 'em a dinner, and the 10 A. M. +issue of the Night Final edition of the newspaper with the largest +circulation in the city leaves a basket at their door full of an apple, +a Lake Ronkonkoma squab, a scrambled eggplant and a bunch of Kalamazoo +bleached parsley. The poorer you are the more Christmas does for you. + +But, I'll tell you to what kind of a mortal Christmas seems to be only +the day before the twenty-sixth day of December. It's the chap in the +big city earning sixteen dollars a week, with no friends and few +acquaintances, who finds himself with only fifty cents in his pocket on +Christmas eve. He can't accept charity; he can't borrow; he knows no one +who would invite him to dinner. I have a fancy that when the shepherds +left their flocks to follow the star of Bethlehem there was a +bandy-legged young fellow among them who was just learning the sheep +business. So they said to him, "Bobby, we're going to investigate this +star route and see what's in it. If it should turn out to be the first +Christmas day we don't want to miss it. And, as you are not a wise man, +and as you couldn't possibly purchase a present to take along, suppose +you stay behind and mind the sheep." + +So as we may say, Harry Stickney was a direct descendant of the shepherd +who was left behind to take care of the flocks. + +Getting back to facts, Stickney rang the doorbell of 45. He had a habit +of forgetting his latchkey. + +Instantly the door opened and there stood Mrs. Kannon, clutching her +sacque together at the throat and gorgonizing him with her opaque, +yellow eyes. + +(To give you good measure, here is a story within a story. Once a roomer +in 47 who had the Scotch habit--not kilts, but a habit of drinking +Scotch--began to figure to himself what might happen if two persons +should ring the doorbells of 43 and 47 at the same time. Visions of two +halves of Mrs. Kannon appearing respectively and simultaneously at the +two entrances, each clutching at a side of an open, flapping sacque that +could never meet, overpowered him. Bellevue got him.) + +"Evening," said Stickney cheerlessly, as he distributed little piles of +muddy slush along the hall matting. "Think we'll have snow?" + +"You left your key," said-- + + (Here the manuscript ends.) + + + + + +THE UNPROFITABLE SERVANT + +[Left unfinished, and published as it here appears in +Everybody's Magazine, December, 1911.] + +I am the richer by the acquaintance of four newspaper men. Singly, they +are my encyclopedias, friends, mentors, and sometimes bankers. But now +and then it happens that all of them will pitch upon the same +printworthy incident of the passing earthly panorama and will send in +reportorial constructions thereof to their respective journals. It is +then that, for me, it is to laugh. For it seems that to each of them, +trained and skilled as he may be, the same occurrence presents a +different facet of the cut diamond, life. + +One will have it (let us say) that Mme. Andre Macarte's apartment was +looted by six burglars, who descended via the fire-escape and bore away +a ruby tiara valued at two thousand dollars and a five-hundred-dollar +prize Spitz dog, which (in violation of the expectoration ordinance) was +making free with the halls of the Wuttapesituckquesunoowetunquah +Apartments. + +My second "chiel" will take notes to the effect that while a friendly +game of pinochle was in progress in the tenement rooms of Mrs. Andy +McCarty, a lady guest named Ruby O'Hara threw a burglar down six flights +of stairs, where he was pinioned and held by a two-thousand-dollar +English bulldog amid a crowd of five hundred excited spectators. + +My third chronicler and friend will gather the news threads of the +happening in his own happy way; setting forth on the page for you to +read that the house of Antonio Macartini was blown up at 6 A. M., by the +Black Hand Society, on his refusing to leave two thousand dollars at a +certain street corner, killing a pet five-hundred-dollar Pomeranian +belonging to Alderman Rubitara's little daughter (see photo and diagram +opposite). + +Number four of my history-makers will simply construe from the premises +the story that while an audience of two thousand enthusiasts was +listening to a Rubinstein concert on Sixth Street, a woman who said she +was Mrs. Andrew M. Carter threw a brick through a plate-glass window +valued at five hundred dollars. The Carter woman claimed that some one +in the building had stolen her dog. + +Now, the discrepancies in these registrations of the day's doings need +do no one hurt. Surely, one newspaper is enough for any man to prop +against his morning water-bottle to fend off the smiling hatred of his +wife's glance. If he be foolish enough to read four he is no wiser than +a Higher Critic. + +I remember (probably as well as you do) having read the parable of the +talents. A prominent citizen, about to journey into a far country, first +hands over to his servants his goods. To one he gives five talents; to +another two; to another one--to every man according to his several +ability, as the text has it. There are two versions of this parable, as +you well know. There may be more--I do not know. + +When the p. c. returns he requires an accounting. Two servants have put +their talents out at usury and gained one hundred per cent. Good. The +unprofitable one simply digs up the talent deposited with him and hands +it out on demand. A pattern of behavior for trust companies and banks, +surely! In one version we read that he had wrapped it in a napkin and +laid it away. But the commentator informs us that the talent mentioned +was composed of 750 ounces of silver--about $900 worth. So the +chronicler who mentioned the napkin, had either to reduce the amount of +the deposit or do a lot of explaining about the size of the napery used +in those davs. Therefore in his version we note that he uses the word +"pound" instead of "talent." + +A pound of silver may very well be laid away--and carried away--in a +napkin, as any hotel or restaurant man will tell you. + +But let us get away from our mutton. + +When the returned nobleman finds that the one-talented servant has +nothing to hand over except the original fund entrusted to him, he is as +angry as a multi-millionaire would be if some one should hide under his +bed and make a noise like an assessment. He orders the unprofitable +servant cast into outer darkness, after first taking away his talent and +giving it to the one-hundred-per cent. financier, and breathing strange +saws, saying: "From him that hath not shall be taken away even that +which he hath." Which is the same as to say: "Nothing from nothing +leaves nothing." + +And now closer draw the threads of parable, precept allegory, and +narrative, leading nowhere if you will, or else weaving themselves into +the little fiction story about Cliff McGowan and his one talent. There +is but a definition to follow; and then the homely actors trip on. + +Talent: A gift, endowment or faculty; some peculiar ability, power, or +accomplishment, natural or acquired. (A metaphor borrowed from the +parable in Matt. XXV. l4-30.) + +In New York City to-day there are (estimated) 125,000 living creatures +training for the stage. This does not include seals, pigs, dogs, +elephants, prize-fighters, Carmens, mind-readers, or Japanese wrestlers. +The bulk of them are in the ranks of the Four Million. Out of this +number will survive a thousand. + +Nine hundred of these will have attained their fulness of fame when they +shall dubiously indicate with the point of a hatpin a blurred figure in +a flashlight photograph of a stage tout ensemble with the proud +commentary: "That's me." + +Eighty, in the pinkest of (male) Louis XIV court costumes, shall welcome +the Queen of the (mythical) Pawpaw Isles in a few well-memorized words, +turning a tip-tilted nose upon the nine hundred. + +Ten, in tiny lace caps, shall dust Ibsen furniture for six minutes after +the rising of the curtain. + +Nine shall attain the circuits, besieging with muscle, skill, eye, hand, +voice, wit, brain, heel and toe the ultimate high walls of stardom. + +One shall inherit Broadway. Sic venit gloria mundi. + +Cliff McGowan and Mac McGowan were cousins. They lived on the West Side +and were talented. Singing, dancing, imitations, trick bicycle riding, +boxing, German and Irish dialect comedy, and a little sleight-of-hand +and balancing of wheat straws and wheelbarrows on the ends of their +chins came as easy to them as it is for you to fix your rat so it won't +show or to dodge a creditor through the swinging-doors of a well-lighted +cafe--according as you may belong to the one or the other division of +the greatest prestidigitators--the people. They were slim, pale, +consummately self-possessed youths, whose fingernails were always +irreproachably (and clothes seams reproachfully) shiny. Their +conversation was in sentences so short that they made Kipling's seem as +long as court citations. + +Having the temperament, they did no work. Any afternoon you could find +them on Eighth Avenue either in front of Spinelli's barber shop, Mike +Dugan's place, or the Limerick Hotel, rubbing their forefinger nails +with dingy silk handkerchiefs. At any time, if you had happened to be +standing, undecisive, near a pool-table, and Cliff and Mac had, +casually, as it were, drawn near, mentioning something disinterestedly, +about a game, well, indeed, would it have been for you had you gone your +way, unresponsive. Which assertion, carefully considered, is a study in +tense, punctuation, and advice to strangers. + +Of all kinships it is likely that the closest is that of cousin. Between +cousins there exist the ties of race, name, and favor--ties thicker than +water, and yet not coagulated with the jealous precipitations of +brotherhood or the enjoining obligations of the matrimonial yoke. You +can bestow upon a cousin almost the interest and affection that you +would give to a stranger; you need not feel toward him the contempt and +embarrassment that you have for one of your father's sons--it is the +closer clan-feeling that sometimes makes the branch of a tree stronger +than its trunk. + +Thus were the two McGowans bonded. They enjoyed a quiet celebrity in +their district, which was a strip west of Eighth Avenue with the Pump +for its pivot. Their talents were praised in a hundred "joints"; their +friendship was famed even in a neighborhood where men had been known to +fight off the wives of their friends--when domestic onslaught was being +made upon their friends by the wives of their friends. (Thus do the +limitations of English force us to repetends.) + +So, side by side, grim, sallow, lowering, inseparable, undefeated, the +cousins fought their way into the temple of Art--art with a big A, which +causes to intervene a lesson in geometry. + +One night at about eleven o'clock Del Delano dropped into Mike's place +on Eighth Avenue. From that moment, instead of remaining a Place, the +cafe became a Resort. It was as though King Edward had condescended to +mingle with ten-spots of a different suit; or Joe Gans had casually +strolled in to look over the Tuskegee School; or Mr. Shaw, of England, +had accepted an invitation to read selections from "Rena, the Snow-bird" +at an unveiling of the proposed monument to James Owen O'Connor at +Chinquapin Falls, Mississippi. In spite of these comparisons, you will +have to be told why the patronizing of a third-rate saloon on the West +Side by the said Del Delano conferred such a specific honor upon the +place. + +Del Delano could not make his feet behave; and so the world paid him +$300 a week to see them misconduct themselves on the vaudeville stage. +To make the matter plain to you (and to swell the number of words), he +was the best fancy dancer on any of the circuits between Ottawa and +Corpus Christi. With his eyes fixed on vacancy and his feet apparently +fixed on nothing, he "nightly charmed thousands," as his press-agent +incorrectly stated. Even taking night performance and matinee together, +he scarcely could have charmed more than eighteen hundred, including +those who left after Zora, the Nautch girl, had squeezed herself through +a hoop twelve inches in diameter, and those who were waiting for the +moving pictures. + +But Del Delano was the West Side's favorite; and nowhere is there a more +loyal Side. Five years before our story was submitted to the editors, +Del had crawled from some Tenth Avenue basement like a lean rat and had +bitten his way into the Big Cheese. Patched, half-starved, cuffless, and +as scornful of the Hook as an interpreter of Ibsen, he had danced his +way into health (as you and I view it) and fame in sixteen minutes on +Amateur Night at Creary's (Variety) Theatre in Eighth Avenue. A +bookmaker (one of the kind that talent wins with instead of losing) sat +in the audience, asleep, dreaming of an impossible pick-up among the +amateurs. After a snore, a glass of beer from the handsome waiter, and a +temporary blindness caused by the diamonds of a transmontane blonde in +Box E, the bookmaker woke up long enough to engage Del Delano for a +three-weeks' trial engagement fused with a trained-dog short-circuit +covering the three Washingtons--Heights, Statue, and Square. + +By the time this story was read and accepted, Del Delano was drawing his +three-hundred dollars a week, which, divided by seven (Sunday acts not +in costume being permissible), dispels the delusion entertained by most +of us that we have seen better days. You can easily imagine the +worshipful agitation of Eighth Avenue whenever Del Delano honored it +with a visit after his terpsichorean act in a historically great and +vilely ventilated Broadway theatre. If the West Side could claim +forty-two minutes out of his forty-two weeks' bookings every year, it +was an occasion for bonfires and repainting of the Pump. And now you +know why Mike's saloon is a Resort, and no longer a simple Place. + +Del Delano entered Mike's alone. So nearly concealed in a fur-lined +overcoat and a derby two sizes too large for him was Prince Lightfoot +that you saw of his face only his pale, hatchet-edged features and a +pair of unwinking, cold, light blue eyes. Nearly every man lounging at +Mike's bar recognized the renowned product of the West Side. To those +who did not, wisdom was conveyed by prodding elbows and growls of +one-sided introduction. + +Upon Charley, one of the bartenders, both fame and fortune descended +simultaneously. He had once been honored by shaking hands with the great +Delano at a Seventh Avenue boxing bout. So with lungs of brass he now +cried: "Hallo, Del, old man; what'll it be?" + +Mike, the proprietor, who was cranking the cash register, heard. On the +next day he raised Charley's wages five a week. + +Del Delano drank a pony beer, paying for it carelessly out of his +nightly earnings of $42.85 and 5/7c. He nodded amiably but coldly at the +long line of Mike's patrons and strolled past then into the rear room of +the cafe. For he heard in there sounds pertaining to his own art--the +light, stirring staccato of a buck-and-wing dance. + +In the back room Mac McGowan was giving a private exhibition of the +genius of his feet. A few young men sat at tables looking on critically +while they amused themselves seriously with beer. They nodded approval +at some new fancy steps of Mac's own invention. + +At the sight of the great Del Delano, the amateur's feet stuttered, +blundered, clicked a few times, and ceased to move. The tongues of one's +shoes become tied in the presence of the Master. Mac's sallow face took +on a slight flush. + +From the uncertain cavity between Del Delano's hat brim and the lapels +of his high fur coat collar came a thin puff of cigarette smoke and then +a voice: + +"Do that last step over again, kid. And don't hold your arms quite so +stiff. Now, then!" + +Once more Mac went through his paces. According to the traditions of the +man dancer, his entire being was transformed into mere feet and legs. +His gaze and expression became cataleptic; his body, unbending above the +waist, but as light as a cork, bobbed like the same cork dancing on the +ripples of a running brook. The beat of his heels and toes pleased you +like a snare-drum obligato. The performance ended with an amazing +clatter of leather against wood that culminated in a sudden flat-footed +stamp, leaving the dancer erect and as motionless as a pillar of the +colonial portico of a mansion in a Kentucky prohibition town. Mac felt +that he had done his best and that Del Delano would turn his back upon +him in derisive scorn. + +An approximate silence followed, broken only by the mewing of a cafe cat +and the hubbub and uproar of a few million citizens and transportation +facilities outside. + +Mac turned a hopeless but nervy eye upon Del Delano's face. In it he +read disgust, admiration, envy, indifference, approval, disappointment, +praise, and contempt. + +Thus, in the countenances of those we hate or love we find what we most +desire or fear to see. Which is an assertion equalling in its wisdom and +chiaroscuro the most famous sayings of the most foolish philosophers +that the world has ever known. + +Del Delano retired within his overcoat and hat. In two minutes he +emerged and turned his left side to Mac. Then he spoke. + +"You've got a foot movement, kid, like a baby hippopotamus trying to +side-step a jab from a humming-bird. And you hold yourself like a truck +driver having his picture taken in a Third Avenue photograph gallery. +And you haven't got any method or style. And your knees are about as +limber as a couple of Yale pass-keys. And you strike the eye as +weighing, let us say, 450 pounds while you work. But, say, would you +mind giving me your name?" + +"McGowan," said the humbled amateur--"Mac McGowan." + +Delano the Great slowly lighted a cigarette and continued, through its +smoke: + +"In other words, you're rotten. You can't dance. But I'll tell you one +thing you've got." + +"Throw it all off of your system while you're at it," said Mac. "What've +I got?" + +"Genius," said Del Delano. "Except myself, it's up to you to be the best +fancy dancer in the United States, Europe, Asia, and the colonial +possessions of all three." + +"Smoke up!" said Mac McGowan. + +"Genius," repeated the Master--"you've got a talent for genius. Your +brains are in your feet, where a dancer's ought to be. You've been +self-taught until you're almost ruined, but not quite. What you need is +a trainer. I'll take you in hand and put you at the top of the +profession. There's room there for the two of us. You may beat me," said +the Master, casting upon him a cold, savage look combining so much +rivalry, affection, justice, and human hate that it stamped him at once +as one of the little great ones of the earth--"you may beat me; but I +doubt it. I've got the start and the pull. But at the top is where you +belong. Your name, you say, is Robinson?" + +"McGowan," repeated the amateur, "Mac McGowan." + +"It don't matter," said Delano. "Suppose you walk up to my hotel with +me. I'd like to talk to you. Your footwork is the worst I ever saw, +Madigan--but--well, I'd like to talk to you. You may not think so, but +I'm not so stuck up. I came off of the West Side myself. That overcoat +cost me eight hundred dollars; but the collar ain't so high but what I +can see over it. I taught myself to dance, and I put in most of nine +years at it before I shook a foot in public. But I had genius. I didn't +go too far wrong in teaching myself as you've done. You've got the +rottenest method and style of anybody I ever saw." + +"Oh, I don't think much of the few little steps I take," said Mac, with +hypocritical lightness. + +"Don't talk like a package of self-raising buckwheat flour," said Del +Delano. "You've had a talent handed to you by the Proposition Higher Up; +and it's up to you to do the proper thing with it. I'd like to have you +go up to my hotel for a talk, if you will." + +In his rooms in the King Clovis Hotel, Del Delano put on a scarlet house +coat bordered with gold braid and set out Apollinaris and a box of sweet +crackers. + +Mac's eye wandered. + +"Forget it," said Del. "Drink and tobacco may be all right for a man who +makes his living with his hands; but they won't do if you're depending +on your head or your feet. If one end of you gets tangled, so does the +other. That's why beer and cigarettes don't hurt piano players and +picture painters. But you've got to cut 'em out if you want to do mental +or pedal work. Now, have a cracker, and then we'll talk some." + +"All right," said Mac. "I take it as an honor, of course, for you to +notice my hopping around. Of course I'd like to do something in a +professional line. Of course I can sing a little and do card tricks and +Irish and German comedy stuff, and of course I'm not so bad on the +trapeze and comic bicycle stunts and Hebrew monologues and----" + +"One moment," interrupted Del Delano, "before we begin. I said you +couldn't dance. Well, that wasn't quite right. You've only got two or +three bad tricks in your method. You're handy with your feet, and you +belong at the top, where I am. I'll put you there. I've got six weeks +continuous in New York; and in four I can shape up your style till the +booking agents will fight one another to get you. And I'll do it, too. +I'm of, from, and for the West Side. 'Del Delano' looks good on +bill-boards, but the family name's Crowley. Now, Mackintosh--McGowan, I +mean--you've got your chance--fifty times a better one than I had." + +"I'd be a shine to turn it down," said Mac. "And I hope you understand I +appreciate it. Me and my cousin Cliff McGowan was thinking of getting a +try-out at Creary's on amateur night a month from to-morrow." + +"Good stuff!" said Delano. "I got mine there. Junius T. Rollins, the +booker for Kuhn & Dooley, jumped on the stage and engaged me after my +dance. And the boards were an inch deep in nickels and dimes and +quarters. There wasn't but nine penny pieces found in the lot." + +"I ought to tell you," said Mac, after two minutes of pensiveness, "that +my cousin Cliff can beat me dancing. We've always been what you might +call pals. If you'd take him up instead of me, now, it might be better. +He's invented a lot of steps that I can't cut." + +"Forget it," said Delano. "Mondays, Wednesdays, Fridays, and Saturdays +of every week from now till amateur night, a month off, I'll coach you. +I'll make you as good as I am; and nobody could do more for you. My +act's over every night at 10:15. Half an hour later I'll take you up and +drill you till twelve. I'll put you at the top of the bunch, right where +I am. You've got talent. Your style's bum; but you've got the genius. +You let me manage it. I'm from the West Side myself, and I'd rather see +one of the same gang win out before I would an East-Sider, or any of the +Flatbush or Hackensack Meadow kind of butt-iners. I'll see that Junius +Rollins is present on your Friday night; and if he don't climb over the +footlights and offer you fifty a week as a starter, I'll let you draw it +down from my own salary every Monday night. Now, am I talking on the +level or am I not?" + +Amateur night at Creary's Eighth Avenue Theatre is cut by the same +pattern as amateur nights elsewhere. After the regular performance the +humblest talent may, by previous arrangement with the management, make +its debut upon the public stage. Ambitious non-professionals, mostly +self-instructed, display their skill and powers of entertainment along +the broadest lines. They may sing, dance, mimic, juggle, contort, +recite, or disport themselves along any of the ragged boundary lines of +Art. From the ranks of these anxious tyros are chosen the professionals +that adorn or otherwise make conspicuous the full-blown stage. +Press-agents delight in recounting to open-mouthed and close-eared +reporters stories of the humble beginnings of the brilliant stars whose +orbits they control. + +Such and such a prima donna (they will tell you) made her initial bow to +the public while turning handsprings on an amateur night. One great +matinee favorite made his debut on a generous Friday evening singing +coon songs of his own composition. A tragedian famous on two continents +and an island first attracted attention by an amateur impersonation of a +newly landed Scandinavian peasant girl. One Broadway comedian that turns +'em away got a booking on a Friday night by reciting (seriously) the +graveyard scene in "Hamlet." + +Thus they get their chance. Amateur night is a kindly boon. It is +charity divested of almsgiving. It is a brotherly hand reached down by +members of the best united band of coworkers in the world to raise up +less fortunate ones without labelling them beggars. It gives you the +chance, if you can grasp it, to step for a few minutes before some badly +painted scenery and, during the playing by the orchestra of some ten or +twelve bars of music, and while the soles of your shoes may be clearly +holding to the uppers, to secure a salary equal to a Congressman's or +any orthodox minister's. Could an ambitious student of literature or +financial methods get a chance like that by spending twenty minutes in a +Carnegie library? I do not not trow so. + +But shall we look in at Creary's? Let us say that the specific Friday +night had arrived on which the fortunate Mac McGowan was to justify the +flattering predictions of his distinguished patron and, incidentally, +drop his silver talent into the slit of the slot-machine of fame and +fortune that gives up reputation and dough. I offer, sure of your +acquiescence, that we now forswear hypocritical philosophy and bigoted +comment, permitting the story to finish itself in the dress of material +allegations--a medium more worthy, when held to the line, than the most +laborious creations of the word-milliners.... + + (Page of O. Henry's manuscript missing here.) + +easily among the wings with his patron, the great Del Delano. For, +whatever footlights shone in the City-That-Would-Be-Amused, the freedom +of their unshaded side was Del's. And if he should take up an amateur-- +see? and bring him around--see? and, winking one of his cold blue eyes, +say to the manager: "Take it from me--he's got the goods--see?" you +wouldn't expect that amateur to sit on an unpainted bench sudorifically +awaiting his turn, would you? So Mac strolled around largely with the +nonpareil; and the seven waited, clammily, on the bench. + +A giant in shirt-sleeves, with a grim, kind face in which many stitches +had been taken by surgeons from time to time, i. e., with a long stick, +looped at the end. He was the man with the Hook. The manager, with his +close-smoothed blond hair, his one-sided smile, and his abnormally easy +manner, pored with patient condescension over the difficult program of +the amateurs. The last of the professional turns--the Grand March of the +Happy Huzzard--had been completed; the last wrinkle and darn of their +blue silkolene cotton tights had vanished from the stage. The man in the +orchestra who played the kettle-drum, cymbals, triangle, sandpaper, +whang-doodle, hoof-beats, and catcalls, and fired the pistol shots, had +wiped his brow. The illegal holiday of the Romans had arrived. + +While the orchestra plays the famous waltz from "The Dismal Wife," let +us bestow two hundred words upon the psychology of the audience. + +The orchestra floor was filled by People. The boxes contained Persons. +In the galleries was the Foreordained Verdict. The claque was there as +it had originated in the Stone Age and was afterward adapted by the +French. Every Micky and Maggie who sat upon Creary's amateur bench, wise +beyond their talents, knew that their success or doom lay already meted +out to them by that crowded, whistling, roaring mass of Romans in the +three galleries. They knew that the winning or the losing of the game +for each one lay in the strength of the "gang" aloft that could turn the +applause to its favorite. On a Broadway first night a wooer of fame may +win it from the ticket buyers over the heads of the cognoscenti. But not +so at Creary's. The amateur's fate is arithmetical. The number of his +supporting admirers present at his try-out decides it in advance. But +how these outlying Friday nights put to a certain shame the Mondays, +Tuesdays, Wednesdays, Thursdays, Saturdays, and matinees of the Broadway +stage you should know.... + +(Here the manuscript ends.) + + + + + +ARISTOCRACY VERSUS HASH + +[From THE ROLLING STONE.] + +The snake reporter of The Rolling Stone was wandering up the avenue last +night on his way home from the Y.M.C.A. rooms when he was approached by +a gaunt, hungry-looking man with wild eyes and dishevelled hair. He +accosted the reporter in a hollow, weak voice. + +"'Can you tell me, Sir, where I can find in this town a family of +scrubs?' + +"'I don't understand exactly.' + +"'Let me tell you how it is,' said the stranger, inserting his +forefinger in the reporter's buttonhole and badly damaging his +chrysanthemum. 'I am a representative from Soapstone County, and I and +my family are houseless, homeless, and shelterless. We have not tasted +food for over a week. I brought my family with me, as I have indigestion +and could not get around much with the boys. Some days ago I started out +to find a boarding house, as I cannot afford to put up at a hotel. I +found a nice aristocratic-looking place, that suited me, and went in and +asked for the proprietress. A very stately lady with a Roman nose came +in the room. She had one hand laid across her stom--across her waist, +and the other held a lace handkerchief. I told her I wanted board for +myself and family, and she condescended to take us. I asked for her +terms, and she said $300 per week. + +"'I had two dollars in my pocket and I gave her that for a fine teapot +that I broke when I fell over the table when she spoke.' + +"'You appear surprised,' says she. `You will please remembah that I am +the widow of Governor Riddle of Georgiah; my family is very highly +connected; I give you board as a favah; I nevah considah money any +equivalent for the advantage of my society, I--' + +"'Well, I got out of there, and I went to some other places. The next +lady was a cousin of General Mahone of Virginia, and wanted four dollars +an hour for a back room with a pink motto and a Burnet granite bed in +it. The next one was an aunt of Davy Crockett, and asked eight dollars a +day for a room furnished in imitation of the Alamo, with prunes for +breakfast and one hour's conversation with her for dinner. Another one +said she was a descendant of Benedict Arnold on her father's side and +Captain Kidd on the other. + +"'She took more after Captain Kidd. + +"'She only had one meal and prayers a day, and counted her society worth +$100 a week. + +"'I found nine widows of Supreme Judges, twelve relicts of Governors and +Generals, and twenty-two ruins left by various happy Colonels, +Professors, and Majors, who valued their aristocratic worth from $90 to +$900 per week, with weak-kneed hash and dried apples on the side. I +admire people of fine descent, but my stomach yearns for pork and beans +instead of culture. Am I not right?' + +"'Your words,' said the reporter, 'convince me that you have uttered +what you have said.' + +"'Thanks. You see how it is. I am not wealthy; I have only my per diem +and my perquisites, and I cannot afford to pay for high lineage and +moldy ancestors. A little corned beef goes further with me than a +coronet, and when I am cold a coat of arms does not warm me.' + +"'I greatly fear, 'said the reporter, with a playful hiccough, 'that you +have run against a high-toned town. Most all the first-class boarding +houses here are run by ladies of the old Southern families, the very +first in the land.' + +"'I am now desperate,' said the Representative, as he chewed a tack +awhile, thinking it was a clove. 'I want to find a boarding house where +the proprietress was an orphan found in a livery stable, whose father +was a dago from East Austin, and whose grandfather was never placed on +the map. I want a scrubby, ornery, low-down, snuff-dipping, back-woodsy, +piebald gang, who never heard of finger bowls or Ward McAllister, but +who can get up a mess of hot cornbread and Irish stew at regular market +quotations.' + +"'Is there such a place in Austin?' + +"The snake reporter sadly shook his head. 'I do not know,' he said, 'but +I will shake you for the beer.' + +"Ten minutes later the slate in the Blue Ruin saloon bore two additional +characters: 10." + + + + + +THE PRISONER OF ZEMBLA + +[From The Rolling Stone.] + +So the king fell into a furious rage, so that none durst go near him for +fear, and he gave out that since the Princess Ostla had disobeyed him +there would be a great tourney, and to the knight who should prove +himself of the greatest valor he would give the hand of the princess. + +And he sent forth a herald to proclaim that he would do this. + +And the herald went about the country making his desire known, blowing a +great tin horn and riding a noble steed that pranced and gambolled; and +the villagers gazed upon him and said: "Lo, that is one of them tin horn +gamblers concerning which the chroniclers have told us." + +And when the day came, the king sat in the grandstand, holding the gage +of battle in his band, and by his side sat the Princess Ostla, looking +very pale and beautiful, but with mournful eyes from which she scarce +could keep the tears. And the knights which came to the tourney gazed +upon the princess in wonder at her beauty, and each swore to win so that +he could marry her and board with the king. Suddenly the heart of the +princess gave a great bound, for she saw among the knights one of the +poor students with whom she had been in love. + +The knights mounted and rode in a line past the grandstand, and the king +stopped the poor student, who had the worst horse and the poorest +caparisons of any of the knights and said: + +"Sir Knight, prithee tell me of what that marvellous shacky and +rusty-looking armor of thine is made?" + +"Oh, king," said the young knight, "seeing that we are about to engage +in a big fight, I would call it scrap iron, wouldn't you?" + +"Ods Bodkins!" said the king. "The youth hath a pretty wit." + +About this time the Princess Ostla, who began to feel better at the +sight of her lover, slipped a piece of gum into her mouth and closed her +teeth upon it, and even smiled a little and showed the beautiful pearls +with which her mouth was set. Whereupon, as soon as the knights +perceived this, 217 of them went over to the king's treasurer and +settled for their horse feed and went home. + +"It seems very hard," said the princess, "that I cannot marry when I +chews." + +But two of the knights were left, one of them being the princess' lover. + +"Here's enough for a fight, anyhow," said the king. "Come hither, O +knights, will ye joust for the hand of this fair lady?" + +"We joust will," said the knights. + +The two knights fought for two hours, and at length the princess' lover +prevailed and stretched the other upon the ground. The victorious knight +made his horse caracole before the king, and bowed low in his saddle. + +On the Princess Ostla's cheeks was a rosy flush; in her eyes the light +of excitement vied with the soft glow of love; her lips were parted, her +lovely hair unbound, and she grasped the arms of her chair and leaned +forward with heaving bosom and happy smile to hear the words of her +lover. + +"You have foughten well, sir knight," said the king. "And if there is +any boon you crave you have but to name it." + +"Then," said the knight, "I will ask you this: I have bought the patent +rights in your kingdom for Schneider's celebrated monkey wrench, and I +want a letter from you endorsing it." + +"You shall have it," said the king, "but I must tell you that there is +not a monkey in my kingdom." + +With a yell of rage the victorious knight threw himself on his horse and +rode away at a furious gallop. + +The king was about to speak, when a horrible suspicion flashed upon him +and he fell dead upon the grandstand. + +"My God!" he cried. "He has forgotten to take the princess with him!" + + + + +A STRANGE STORY + +[From The Rolling Stone.] + +In the northern part of Austin there once dwelt an honest family by the +name of Smothers. The family consisted of John Smothers, his wife, +himself, their little daughter, five years of age, and her parents, +making six people toward the population of the city when counted for a +special write-up, but only three by actual count. + +One night after supper the little girl was seized with a severe colic, +and John Smothers hurried down town to get some medicine. + +He never came back. + +The little girl recovered and in time grew up to womanhood. + +The mother grieved very much over her husband's disappearance, and it +was nearly three months before she married again, and moved to San +Antonio. + +The little girl also married in time, and after a few years had rolled +around, she also had a little girl five years of age. + +She still lived in the same house where they dwelt when her father had +left and never returned. + +One night by a remarkable coincidence her little girl was taken with +cramp colic on the anniversary of the disappearance of John Smothers, +who would now have been her grandfather if he had been alive and had a +steady job. + +"I will go downtown and get some medicine for her," said John Smith (for +it was none other than he whom she had married). + +"No, no, dear John," cried his wife. "You, too, might disappear forever, +and then forget to come back." + +So John Smith did not go, and together they sat by the bedside of little +Pansy (for that was Pansy's name). + +After a little Pansy seemed to grow worse, and John Smith again +attempted to go for medicine, but his wife would not let him. + +Suddenly the door opened, and an old man, stooped and bent, with long +white hair, entered the room. + +"Hello, here is grandpa," said Pansy. She had recognized him before any +of the others. + +The old man drew a bottle of medicine from his pocket and gave Pansy a +spoonful. + +She got well immediately. + +"I was a little late," said John Smothers, "as I waited for a street +car." + + + + +FICKLE FORTUNE OR HOW GLADYS HUSTLED + +[From The Rolling Stone.] + +"Press me no more Mr. Snooper," said Gladys Vavasour-Smith. "I can never +be yours." + +"You have led me to believe different, Gladys," said Bertram D. Snooper. + +The setting sun was flooding with golden light the oriel windows of a +magnificent mansion situated in one of the most aristocratic streets +west of the brick yard. + +Bertram D. Snooper, a poor but ambitious and talented young lawyer, had +just lost his first suit. He had dared to aspire to the hand of Gladys +Vavasour-Smith, the beautiful and talented daughter of one of the oldest +and proudest families in the county. The bluest blood flowed in her +veins. Her grandfather had sawed wood for the Hornsbys and an aunt on +her mother's side had married a man who had been kicked by General Lee's +mule. + +The lines about Bertram D. Snooper's hands and mouth were drawn tighter +as he paced to and fro, waiting for a reply to the question he intended +to ask Gladys as soon as he thought of one. + +At last an idea occurred to him. + +"Why will you not marry me?" he asked in an inaudible tone. + +"Because," said Gladys firmly, speaking easily with great difficulty, +"the progression and enlightenment that the woman of to-day possesses +demand that the man shall bring to the marriage altar a heart and body +as free from the debasing and hereditary iniquities that now no longer +exist except in the chimerical imagination of enslaved custom." + +"It is as I expected," said Bertram, wiping his heated brow on the +window curtain. "You have been reading books." + +"Besides that," continued Gladys, ignoring the deadly charge, "you have +no money." + +The blood of the Snoopers rose hastily and mantled the cheek of Bertram +D. He put on his coat and moved proudly to the door. + +"Stay here till I return," he said, "I will be back in fifteen years." + +When he had finished speaking he ceased and left the room. + +When he had gone, Gladys felt an uncontrollable yearning take possession +of her. She said slowly, rather to herself than for publication, "I +wonder if there was any of that cold cabbage left from dinner." + +She then left the room. + +When she did so, a dark-complexioned man with black hair and gloomy, +desperate looking clothes, came out of the fireplace where he had been +concealed and stated: + +"Aha! I have you in my power at last, Bertram D. Snooper. Gladys +Vavasour-Smith shall be mine. I am in the possession of secrets that not +a soul in the world suspects. I have papers to prove that Bertram +Snooper is the heir to the [Footnote: An estate famous in Texas legal +history. It took many, many years for adjustment and a large part of the +property was, of course, consumed as expenses of litigation.] Tom Bean +estate, and I have discovered that Gladys' grandfather who sawed wood +for the Hornsby's was also a cook in Major Rhoads Fisher's command +during the war. Therefore, the family repudiate her, and she will marry +me in order to drag their proud name down in the dust. Ha, ha, ha!" + +As the reader has doubtless long ago discovered, this man was no other +than Henry R. Grasty. Mr. Grasty then proceeded to gloat some more, and +then with a sardonic laugh left for New York. + + * * * * + +Fifteen years have elapsed. + +Of course, our readers will understand that this is only supposed to the +the case. + +It really took less than a minute to make the little stars that +represent an interval of time. + +We could not afford to stop a piece in the middle and wait fifteen years +before continuing it. + +We hope this explanation will suffice. We are careful not to create any +wrong impressions. + +Gladys Vavasour-Smith and Henry R. Grasty stood at the marriage altar. + +Mr. Grasty had evidently worked his rabbit's foot successfully, although +he was quite a while in doing so. + +Just as the preacher was about to pronounce the fatal words on which he +would have realized ten dollars and had the laugh on Mr. Grasty, the +steeple of the church fell off and Bertram D. Snooper entered. + +The preacher fell to the ground with a dull thud. He could ill afford to +lose ten dollars. He was hastily removed and a cheaper one secured. + +Bertram D. Snooper held a Statesman in his hand. + +"Aha!" he said, "I thought I would surprise you. I just got in this +morning. Here is a paper noticing my arrival." + +He handed it to Henry R. Grasty. + +Mr. Grasty looked at the paper and turned deadly pale. It was dated +three weeks after Mr. Snooper's arrival. + +"Foiled again!" he hissed. + +"Speak, Bertram D. Snooper," said Gladys, "why have you come between me +and Henry?" + +"I have just discovered that I am the sole heir to Tom Bean's estate and +am worth two million dollars." + +With a glad cry Gladys threw herself in Bertram's arms. + +Henry R. Grasty drew from his breast pocket a large tin box and opened +it, took therefrom 467 pages of closely written foolscap. + +"What you say is true, Mr. Snooper, but I ask you to read that," he +said, handing it to Bertram Snooper. + +Mr. Snooper had no sooner read the document than he uttered a piercing +shriek and bit off a large chew of tobacco. + +"All is lost," he said. + +"What is that document?" asked Gladys. "Governor Hogg's message?" + +"It is not as bad as that," said Bertram, "but it deprives me of my +entire fortune. But I care not for that, Gladys, since I have won you." + +"What is it? Speak, I implore you," said Gladys. + +"Those papers," said Henry R. Grasty, "are the proofs of my appointment +as administrator of the Tom Bean estate." + +With a loving cry Gladys threw herself in Henry R. Grasty's arms. + + * * * * + +Twenty minutes later Bertram D. Snooper was seen +deliberately to enter a beer saloon on Seventeenth Street. + + + + +AN APOLOGY + +[This appeared in The Rolling Stone shortly before it +"suspended publication" never to resume.] + +The person who sweeps the office, translates letters from foreign +countries, deciphers communications from graduates of business colleges, +and does most of the writing for this paper, has been confined for the +past two weeks to the under side of a large red quilt, with a joint +caucus of la grippe and measles. + +We have missed two issues of The Rolling Stone, and are now slightly +convalescent, for which we desire to apologize and express our regrets. + +Everybody's term of subscription will be extended enough to cover all +missed issues, and we hope soon to report that the goose remains +suspended at a favorable altitude. People who have tried to run a funny +paper and entertain a congregation of large piebald measles at the same +time will understand something of the tact, finesse, and hot sassafras +tea required to do so. We expect to get out the paper regularly from +this time on, but are forced to be very careful, as improper treatment +and deleterious after-effects of measles, combined with the high price +of paper and presswork, have been known to cause a relapse. Any one not +getting their paper regularly will please come down and see about it, +bringing with them a ham or any little delicacy relished by invalids. + + + + +LORD OAKHURST'S CURSE + +[This story was sent to Dr. Beall of Greensboro, N. C., in a letter in +1883, and so is one of O. Henry's earliest attempts at writing.] + +I + +Lord Oakhurst lay dying in the oak chamber in the eastern wing of +Oakhurst Castle. Through the open window in the calm of the summer +evening, came the sweet fragrance of the early violets and budding +trees, and to the dying man it seemed as if earth's loveliness and +beauty were never so apparent as on this bright June day, his last day +of life. + +His young wife, whom he loved with a devotion and strength that the +presence of the king of terrors himself could not alter, moved about the +apartment, weeping and sorrowful, sometimes arranging the sick man's +pillow and inquiring of him in low, mournful tones if anything could be +done to give him comfort, and again, with stifled sobs, eating some +chocolate caramels which she carried in the pocket of her apron. The +servants went to and fro with that quiet and subdued tread which +prevails in a house where death is an expected guest, and even the crash +of broken china and shivered glass, which announced their approach, +seemed to fall upon the ear with less violence and sound than usual. + +Lord Oakhurst was thinking of days gone by, when he wooed and won his +beautiful young wife, who was then but a charming and innocent girl. How +clearly and minutely those scenes rose up at the call of his memory. He +seemed to be standing once more beneath the old chestnut grove where +they had plighted their troth in the twilight under the stars; while the +rare fragrance of the June roses and the smell of supper came gently by +on the breeze. There he had told her his love; how that his whole +happiness and future joy lay in the hope that he might win her for a +bride; that if she would trust her future to his care the devotedness of +his lifetime should be hers, and his only thought would be to make her +life one long day of sunshine and peanut candy. + +How plainly he remembered how she had, with girlish shyness and coyness, +at first hesitated, and murmured something to herself about "an old +bald-beaded galoot," but when he told her that to him life without her +would be a blasted mockery, and that his income was £50,000 a year, she +threw herself on to him and froze there with the tenacity of a tick on a +brindled cow, and said, with tears of joy, "Hen-ery, I am thine." + +And now he was dying. In a few short hours his spirit would rise up at +the call of the Destroyer and, quitting his poor, weak, earthly frame, +would go forth into that dim and dreaded Unknown Land, and solve with +certainty that Mystery which revealeth itself not to mortal man. + + + + + +II + +A carriage drove rapidly up the avenue and stopped at the door. Sir +Everhard FitzArmond, the famous London physician, who had been +telegraphed for, alighted and quickly ascended the marble steps. Lady +Oakhurst met him at the door, her lovely face expressing great anxiety +and grief. "Oh, Sir Everhard, I am so glad you have come. He seems to be +sinking rapidly. Did you bring the cream almonds I mentioned in the +telegram?" + +Sir Everhard did not reply, but silently handed her a package, and, +slipping a couple of cloves into his mouth, ascended the stairs that led +to Lord Oakhurst's apartment. Lady Oakhurst followed. + +Sir Everhard approached the bedside of his patient and laid his hand +gently on this sick man's diagnosis. A shade of feeling passed over his +professional countenance as lie gravely and solemnly pronounced these +words: "Madam, your husband has croaked." + +Lady Oakhurst at first did not comprehend his technical language, and +her lovely mouth let up for a moment on the cream almonds. But soon his +meaning flashed upon her, and she seized an axe that her husband was +accustomed to keep by his bedside to mangle his servants with, and +struck open Lord Oakhurst's cabinet containing his private papers, and +with eager hands opened the document which she took therefrom. Then, +with a wild, unearthly shriek that would have made a steam piano go out +behind a barn and kick itself in despair, she fell senseless to the +floor. + +Sir Everhard FitzArmond picked up the paper and read its contents. It +was Lord Oakhurst's will, bequeathing all his property to a scientific +institution which should have for its object the invention of a means +for extracting peach brandy from sawdust. + +Sir Everhard glanced quickly around the room. No one was in sight. +Dropping the will, he rapidly transferred some valuable ornaments and +rare specimens of gold and silver filigree work from the centre table to +his pockets, and rang the bell for the servants. + + +III--THE CURSE + +Sir Everhard FitzArmond descended the stairway of Oakhurst Castle and +passed out into the avenue that led from the doorway to the great iron +gates of the park. Lord Oakhurst had been a great sportsman during his +life and always kept a well-stocked kennel of curs, which now rushed out +from their hiding places and with loud yelps sprang upon the physician, +burying their fangs in his lower limbs and seriously damaging his +apparel. + +Sir Everllard, startled out of his professional dignity and usual +indifference to human suffering, by the personal application of feeling, +gave vent to a most horrible and blighting CURSE and ran with great +swiftness to his carriage and drove off toward the city. + + + +BEXAR SCRIP NO. 2692 + +[From The Rolling Stone, Saturday, March 5, 1894.] + +Whenever you visit Austin you should by all means go to see the General +Land Office. + +As you pass up the avenue you turn sharp round the corner of the court +house, and on a steep hill before you you see a medieval castle. + +You think of the Rhine; the "castled crag of Drachenfels"; the Lorelei; +and the vine-clad slopes of Germany. And German it is in every line of +its architecture and design. + +The plan was drawn by an old draftsman from the "Vaterland," whose heart +still loved the scenes of his native land, and it is said he reproduced +the design of a certain castle near his birthplace, with remarkable +fidelity. + +Under the present administration a new coat of paint has vulgarized its +ancient and venerable walls. Modern tiles have replaced the limestone +slabs of its floors, worn in hollows by the tread of thousands of feet, +and smart and gaudy fixtures have usurped the place of the time-worn +furniture that has been consecrated by the touch of hands that Texas +will never cease to honor. + +But even now, when you enter the building, you lower your voice, and +time turns backward for you, for the atmosphere which you breathe is +cold with the exudation of buried generations. + +The building is stone with a coating of concrete; the walls are +immensely thick; it is cool in the summer and warm in the winter; it is +isolated and sombre; standing apart from the other state buildings, +sullen and decaying, brooding on the past. + +Twenty years ago it was much the same as now; twenty years from now the +garish newness will be worn off and it will return to its appearance of +gloomy decadence. + +People living in other states can form no conception of the vastness and +importance of the work performed and the significance of the millions of +records and papers composing the archives of this office. + +The title deeds, patents, transfers and legal documents connected with +every foot of land owned in the state of Texas are filed here. + +Volumes could be filled with accounts of the knavery, the +double-dealing, the cross purposes, the perjury, the lies, the bribery, +the alteration and erasing, the suppressing and destroying of papers, +the various schemes and plots that for the sake of the almighty dollar +have left their stains upon the records of the General Land Office. + +No reference is made to the employees. No more faithful, competent and +efficient force of men exists in the clerical portions of any +government, but there is--or was, for their day is now over--a class of +land speculators commonly called land sharks, unscrupulous and greedy, +who have left their trail in every department of this office, in the +shape of titles destroyed, patents cancelled, homes demolished and torn +away, forged transfers and lying affidavits. + +Before the modern tiles were laid upon the floors, there were deep +hollows in the limestone slabs, worn by the countless feet that daily +trod uneasily through its echoing corridors, pressing from file room to +business room, from commissioner's sanctum to record books and back +again. + +The honest but ignorant settler, bent on saving the little plot of land +he called home, elbowed the wary land shark who was searching the +records for evidence to oust him; the lordly cattle baron, relying on +his influence and money, stood at the Commissioner's desk side by side +with the preemptor, whose little potato patch lay like a minute speck of +island in the vast, billowy sea, of his princely pastures, and played +the old game of "freeze-out," which is as old as Cain and Abel. + +The trail of the serpent is through it all. + +Honest, earnest men have wrought for generations striving to disentangle +the shameful coil that certain years of fraud and infamy have wound. +Look at the files and see the countless endorsements of those in +authority + +"Transfer doubtful--locked up." + +"Certificate a forgery--locked up." + +"Signature a forgery." + +"Patent refused--duplicate patented elsewhere." + +"Field notes forged." + +"Certificates stolen from office"--and soon ad infinitum. + +The record books, spread upon long tables, in the big room upstairs, are +open to the examination of all. Open them, and you will find the dark +and greasy finger prints of half a century's handling. The quick hand of +the land grabber has fluttered the leaves a million times; the damp +clutch of the perturbed tiller of the soil has left traces of his +calling on the ragged leaves. + +Interest centres in the file room. + +This is a large room, built as a vault, fireproof, and entered by but a +single door. + +There is "No Admission" on the portal; and the precious files are handed +out by a clerk in charge only on presentation of an order signed by the +Commissioner or chief clerk. + +In years past too much laxity prevailed in its management, and the files +were handled by all corners, simply on their request, and returned at +their will, or not at all. + +In these days most of the mischief was done. In the file room, there are +about ---- files, each in a paper wrapper, and comprising the title +papers of a particular tract of land. + +You ask the clerk in charge for the papers relating to any survey in +Texas. They are arranged simply in districts and numbers. + +He disappears from the door, you hear the sliding of a tin box, the lid +snaps, and the file is in your hand. + +Go up there some day and call for Bexar Scrip No. 2692. + +The file clerk stares at you for a second, says shortly: + +"Out of file." + +It has been missing twenty years. + +The history of that file has never been written before. + +Twenty years ago there was a shrewd land agent living in Austin who +devoted his undoubted talents and vast knowledge of land titles, and the +laws governing them, to the locating of surveys made by illegal +certificates, or improperly made, and otherwise of no value through +non-compliance with the statutes, or whatever flaws his ingenious and +unscrupulous mind could unearth. + +He found a fatal defect in the title of the land as on file in Bexar +Scrip No. 2692 and placed a new certificate upon the survey in his own +name. + +The law was on his side. + +Every sentiment of justice, of right, and humanity was against him. + +The certificate by virtue of which the original survey had been made was +missing. + +It was not be found in the file, and no memorandum or date on the +wrapper to show that it had ever been filed. + +Under the law the land was vacant, unappropriated public domain, and +open to location. + +The land was occupied by a widow and her only son, and she supposed her +title good. + +The railroad had surveyed a new line through the property, and it had +doubled in value. + +Sharp, the land agent, did not communicate with her in any way until he +had filed his papers, rushed his claim through the departments and into +the patent room for patenting. + +Then he wrote her a letter, offering her the choice of buying from him +or vacating at once. + +He received no reply. + +One day he was looking through some files and came across the missing +certificate. Some one, probably an employee of the office, had by +mistake, after making some examination, placed it in the wrong file, and +curiously enough another inadvertence, in there being no record of its +filing on the wrapper, had completed the appearance of its having never +been filed. + +Sharp called for the file in which it belonged and scrutinized it +carefully, fearing he might have overlooked some endorsement regarding +its return to the office. + +On the back of the certificate was plainly endorsed the date of filing, +according to law, and signed by the chief clerk. + +If this certificate should be seen by the examining clerk, his own +claim, when it came up for patenting, would not be worth the paper on +which it was written. + +Sharp glanced furtively around. A young man, or rather a boy about +eighteen years of age, stood a few feet away regarding him closely with +keen black eyes. Sharp, a little confused, thrust the certificate into +the file where it properly belonged and began gathering up the other +papers. + +The boy came up and leaned on the desk beside him. + +"A right interesting office, sir!" he said. "I have never been in here +before. All those papers, now, they are about lands, are they not? The +titles and deeds, and such things?" + +"Yes," said Sharp. "They are supposed to contain all the title papers." + +"This one, now," said the boy, taking up Bexar Scrip No. 2692, "what +land does this represent the title of? Ah, I see 'Six hundred and forty +acres in B---- country? Absalom Harris, original grantee.' Please tell +me, I am so ignorant of these things, how can you tell a good survey +from a bad one. I am told that there are a great many illegal and +fraudulent surveys in this office. I suppose this one is all right?" + +"No," said Sharp. "The certificate is missing. It is invalid." + +"That paper I just saw you place in that file, I suppose is something +else--field notes, or a transfer probably?" + +"Yes," said Sharp, hurriedly, "corrected field notes. Excuse me, I am a +little pressed for time." + +The boy was watching him with bright, alert eyes. + +It would never do to leave the certificate in the file; but he could not +take it out with that inquisitive boy watching him. + +He turned to the file room, with a dozen or more files in his hands, and +accidentally dropped part of them on the floor. As he stooped to pick +them up he swiftly thrust Bexar Scrip No. 2692 in the inside breast +pocket of his coat. + +This happened at just half-past four o'clock, and when the file clerk +took the files he threw them in a pile in his room, came out and locked +the door. + +The clerks were moving out of the doors in long, straggling lines. + +It was closing time. + +Sharp did not desire to take the file from the Land Office. + +The boy might have seen him place the file in his pocket, and the +penalty of the law for such an act was very severe. + +Some distance back from the file room was the draftsman's room now +entirely vacated by its occupants. + +Sharp dropped behind the outgoing stream of men, and slipped slyly into +this room. + +The clerks trooped noisily down the iron stairway, singing, whistling, +and talking. + +Below, the night watchman awaited their exit, ready to close and bar the +two great doors to the south and cast. + +It is his duty to take careful note each day that no one remains in the +building after the hour of closing. + +Sharp waited until all sounds had ceased. + +It was his intention to linger until everything was quiet, and then to +remove the certificate from the file, and throw the latter carelessly on +some draftsman's desk as if it had been left there during the business +of the day. + +He knew also that he must remove the certificate from the office or +destroy it, as the chance finding of it by a clerk would lead to its +immediately being restored to its proper place, and the consequent +discovery that his location over the old survey was absolutely +worthless. + +As he moved cautiously along the stone floor the loud barking of the +little black dog, kept by the watchman, told that his sharp ears had +heard the sounds of his steps. The great, hollow rooms echoed loudly, +move as lightly as he could. + +Sharp sat down at a desk and laid the file before him. In all his queer +practices and cunning tricks he had not yet included any act that was +downright criminal. He had always kept on the safe side of the law, but +in the deed he was about to commit there was no compromise to be made +with what little conscience he had left. + +There is no well-defined boundary line between honesty and dishonesty. + +The frontiers of one blend with the outside limits of the other, and he +who attempts to tread this dangerous ground may be sometimes in one +domain and sometimes in the other; so the only safe road is the broad +highway that leads straight through and has been well defined by line +and compass. + +Sharp was a man of what is called high standing in the community. That +is, his word in a trade was as good as any man's; his check was as good +as so much cash, and so regarded; he went to church regularly; went in +good society and owed no man anything. + +He was regarded as a sure winner in any land trade he chose to make, but +that was his occupation. + +The act he was about to commit now would place him forever in the ranks +of those who chose evil for their portion--if it was found out. + +More than that, it would rob a widow and her son of property soon to be +of great value, which, if not legally theirs, was theirs certainly by +every claim of justice. + +But he had gone too far to hesitate. + +His own survey was in the patent room for patenting. His own title was +about to be perfected by the State's own hand. + +The certificate must be destroyed. + +He leaned his head on his hands for a moment, and as he did so a sound +behind him caused his heart to leap with guilty fear, but before he +could rise, a hand came over his shoulder and grasped the file. + +He rose quickly, as white as paper, rattling his chair loudly on the +stone floor. + +The boy who land spoken to him earlier stood contemplating him with +contemptuous and flashing eyes, and quietly placed the file in the left +breast pocket of his coat. + +"So, Mr. Sharp, by nature as well as by name," he said, "it seems that I +was right in waiting behind the door in order to see you safely out. You +will appreciate the pleasure I feel in having done so when I tell you my +name is Harris. My mother owns the land on which you have filed, and if +there is any justice in Texas she shall hold it. I am not certain, but I +think I saw you place a paper in this file this afternoon, and it is +barely possible that it may be of value to me. I was also impressed with +the idea that you desired to remove it again, but had not the +opportunity. Anyway, I shall keep it until to-morrow and let the +Commissioner decide." + +Far back among Mr. Sharp's ancestors there must have been some of the +old berserker blood, for his caution, his presence of mind left him, and +left him possessed of a blind, devilish, unreasoning rage that showed +itself in a moment in the white glitter of his eye. + +"Give me that file, boy," he said, thickly, holding out his hand. + +"I am no such fool, Mr. Sharp," said the youth. "This file shall be laid +before the Commissioner to-morrow for examination. If he finds--Help! +Help!" + +Sharp was upon him like a tiger and bore him to the floor. The boy was +strong and vigorous, but the suddenness of the attack gave him no chance +to resist. He struggled up again to his feet, but it was an animal, with +blazing eyes and cruel-looking teeth that fought him, instead of a man. + +Mr. Sharp, a man of high standing and good report, was battling for his +reputation. + +Presently there was a dull sound, and another, and still one more, and a +blade flashing white and then red, and Edward Harris dropped down like +some stuffed effigy of a man, that boys make for sport, with his limbs +all crumpled and lax, on the stone floor of the Land Office. + +The old watchman was deaf, and heard nothing. + +The little dog barked at the foot of the stairs until his master made +him come into his room. + +Sharp stood there for several minutes holding in his hand his bloody +clasp knife, listening to the cooing of the pigeons on the roof, and the +loud ticking of the clock above the receiver's desk. + +A map rustled on the wall and his blood turned to ice; a rat ran across +some strewn papers, and his scalp prickled, and he could scarcely +moisten his dry lips with his tongue. + +Between the file room and the draftsman's room there is a door that +opens on a small dark spiral stairway that winds from the lower floor to +the ceiling at the top of the house. + +This stairway was not used then, nor is it now. + +It is unnecessary, inconvenient, dusty, and dark as night, and was a +blunder of the architect who designed the building. + +This stairway ends above at the tent-shaped space between the roof and +the joists. + +That space is dark and forbidding, and being useless is rarely visited. + +Sharp opened this door and gazed for a moment up this narrow cobwebbed +stairway. + + * * * * + +After dark that night a man opened cautiously one of the lower windows +of the Land Office, crept out with great circumspection and disappeared +in the shadows. + + * * * * + +One afternoon, a week after this time, Sharp lingered behind again after +the clerks had left and the office closed. The next morning the first +comers noticed a broad mark in the dust on the upstairs floor, and the +same mark was observed below stairs near a window. + +It appeared as if some heavy and rather bulky object had been dragged +along through the limestone dust. A memorandum book with "E. Harris" +written on the flyleaf was picked up on the stairs, but nothing +particular was thought of any of these signs. + +Circulars and advertisements appeared for a long time in the papers +asking for information concerning Edward Harris, who left his mother's +home on a certain date and had never been heard of since. + +After a while these things were succeeded by affairs of more recent +interest, and faded from the public mind. + + * * * * + +Sharp died two years ago, respected and regretted. The last two years of +his life were clouded with a settled melancholy for which his friends +could assign no reason. The bulk of his comfortable fortune was made +from the land he obtained by fraud and crime. + +The disappearance of the file was a mystery that created some commotion +in the Land Office, but he got his patent. + + * * * * + +It is a well-known tradition in Austin and vicinity that there is a +buried treasure of great value somewhere on the banks of Shoal Creek, +about a mile west of the city. + +Three young men living in Austin recently became possessed of what they +thought was a clue of the whereabouts of the treasure, and Thursday +night they repaired to the place after dark and plied the pickaxe and +shovel with great diligence for about three hours. + +At the end of that time their efforts were rewarded by the finding of a +box buried about four feet below the surface, which they hastened to +open. + +The light of a lantern disclosed to their view the fleshless bones of a +human skeleton with clothing still wrapping its uncanny limbs. + +They immediately left the scene and notified the proper authorities of +their ghastly find. + +On closer examination, in the left breast pocket of the skeleton's coat, +there was found a flat, oblong packet of papers, cut through and through +in three places by a knife blade, and so completely soaked and clotted +with blood that it had become an almost indistinguishable mass. + +With the aid of a microscope and the exercise of a little imagination +this much can be made out of the letter; at the top of the papers: + +B--x a-- ---rip N--2--92. + + + + + +QUERIES AND ANSWERS + +[From The Rolling Stone, June 23, 1891.] + +Can you inform me where I can buy an interest in a newspaper of some +kind? I have some money and would be glad to invest it in something of +the sort, if some one would allow me to put in my capital against his +experience. + COLLEGE GRADUATE. + +Telegraph us your address at once, day message. Keep telegraphing every +ten minutes at our expense until we see you. Will start on first train +after receiving your wire. + + * * * * + +Who was the author of the line, "Breathes there a man with soul so +dead?" + G. F. + +This was written by a visitor to the State Saengerfest of 1892 while +conversing with a member who had just eaten a large slice of limburger +cheese. + + * * * * + +Where can I get the "Testimony of the Rocks"? + GEOLOGIST. + +See the reports of the campaign committees after the election in +November. + + * * * * + +Please state what the seven wonders of the world are. I know five of +them, I think, but can't find out the other two. + SCHOLAR. + +The Temple of Diana, at Lexington, Ky.; the Great Wall of China; Judge +Von Rosenberg (the Colossus of Roads); the Hanging Gardens at Albany; a +San Antonio Sunday school; Mrs. Frank Leslie, and the Populist party. + + * * * * + +What day did Christmas come on in the year 1847? + CONSTANT READER + +The 25th of December. + + * * * * + +What does an F. F. V. mean? + IGNORANT. + +What does he mean by what? If he takes you by the arm and tells you how +much you are like a brother of his in Richmond, he means Feel For Your +Vest, for he wants to borrow a five. If he holds his head high and don't +speak to you on the street he means that he already owes you ten and is +Following a Fresh Victim. + + * * * * + +Please decide a bet for us. My friend says that the sentence, "The negro +bought the watermelon OF the farmer" is correct, and I say it should be +"The negro bought the watermelon from the farmer." Which is correct? + R. + +Neither. It should read, "The negro stole the watermelon +from the farmer." + + * * * * + +When do the Texas game laws go into effect? + HUNTER. + +When you sit down at the table. + + * * * * + +Do you know where I can trade a section of fine Panhandle land for a +pair of pants with a good title? + LAND AGENT. + +We do not. You can't raise anything on land in that section. A man can +always raise a dollar on a good pair of pants. + + * * * * + +Name in order the three best newspapers in Texas. + ADVERTISER. + +Well, the Galveston News runs about second, and the San Antonio Express +third. Let us hear from you again. + + * * * * + +Has a married woman any rights in Texas? + PROSPECTOR. + +Hush, Mr. Prospector. Not quite so loud, if you please. Come up to the +office some afternoon, and if everything seems quiet, come inside, and +look at our eye, and our suspenders hanging on to one button, and feel +the lump on the top of our head. Yes, she has some rights of her own, +and everybody else's she can scoop in. + + * * * * + +Who was the author of the sayings, "A public office is a public trust," +and "I would rather be right than President"? + +Eli Perkins. + + * * * * + + +Is the Lakeside Improvement Company making anything out of their own +town tract on the lake? + INQUISITIVE. + +Yes, lots. + + + +POEMS + +[This and the other poems that follow have been found in +files of The Rolling Stone, in the Houston Post's +Postscripts and in manuscript. There are many others, but +these few have been selected rather arbitrarily, to round out +this collection.] + + THE PEWEE + + In the hush of the drowsy afternoon, + When the very wind on the breast of June + Lies settled, and hot white tracery + Of the shattered sunlight filters free. + Through the unstinted leaves to the pied cool sward; + On a dead tree branch sings the saddest bard + Of the birds that be; + 'Tis the lone Pewee. + + Its note is a sob, and its note is pitched + In a single key, like a soul bewitched + To a mournful minstrelsy. + + "Pewee, Pewee," doth it ever cry; + A sad, sweet minor threnody + That threads the aisles of the dim hot grove + Like a tale of a wrong or a vanished love; + And the fancy comes that the wee dun bird + Perchance was a maid, and her heart was stirred + + By some lover's rhyme + In a golden time, + + And broke when the world turned false and cold; + And her dreams grew dark and her faith grew cold + In some fairy far-off clime. + + And her soul crept into the Pewee's breast; + And forever she cries with a strange unrest + For something lost, in the afternoon; + For something missed from the lavish June; + For the heart that died in the long ago; + For the livelong pain that pierceth so: + + Thus the Pewee cries, + While the evening lies + + Steeped in the languorous still sunshine, + Rapt, to the leaf and the bough rind the vine + Of some hopeless paradise. + "You can tell your paper," the great man said, + "I refused an interview. + I have nothing to say on the question, sir; + Nothing to say to you." + + And then he talked till the sun went down + And the chickens went to roost; + And he seized the collar of the poor young man, + And never his hold he loosed. + + And the sun went down and the moon came up, + And he talked till the dawn of day; + Though he said, "On this subject mentioned by you, + I have nothing whatever to say." + + And down the reporter dropped to sleep + And flat on the floor he lay; + And the last he heard was the great man's words, + "I have nothing at all to say." + + + + THE MURDERER + + "I push my boat among the reeds; + I sit and stare about; + Queer slimy things crawl through the weeds + Put to a sullen rout. + I paddle under cypress trees; + All fearfully I peer + Through oozy channels when the breeze + Comes rustling at my ear. + + "The long moss hangs perpetually; + Gray scalps of buried years; + Blue crabs steal out and stare at me, + And seem to gauge my fears; + I start to hear the eel swim by; + I shudder when the crane + Strikes at his prey; I turn to fly, + At drops of sudden rain. + + "In every little cry of bird + I hear a tracking shout; + From every sodden leaf that's stirred + I see a face frown out; + My soul shakes when the water rat + Cowed by the blue snake flies; + Black knots from tree holes glimmer at + Me with accusive eyes. + "Through all the murky silence rings + A cry not born of earth; + An endless, deep, unechoing thing + That owns not human birth. + I see no colors in the sky + Save red, as blood is red; + I pray to God to still that cry + From pallid lips and dead. + + "One spot in all that stagnant waste + I shun as moles shun light, + And turn my prow to make all haste + To fly before the night. + A poisonous mound hid from the sun, + Where crabs hold revelry; + Where eels and fishes feed upon + The Thing that once was He. + + "At night I steal along the shore; + Within my hut I creep; + But awful stars blink through the door, + To hold me from my sleep. + The river gurgles like his throat, + In little choking coves, + And loudly dins that phantom note + From out the awful groves. + + "I shout with laughter through the night: + I rage in greatest glee; + My fears all vanish with the light + Oh! splendid nights they be! + I see her weep; she calls his name; + He answers not, nor will; + My soul with joy is all aflame; + I laugh, and laugh, and thrill. + + "I count her teardrops as they fall; + I flout my daytime fears; + I mumble thanks to God for all + These gibes and happy jeers. + But, when the warning dawn awakes, + Begins my wandering; + With stealthy strokes through tangled brakes, + A wasted, frightened thing." + + + + SOME POSTSCRIPTS + + TWO PORTRAITS + + Wild hair flying, in a matted maze, + Hand firm as iron, eyes all ablaze; + Bystanders timidly, breathlessly gaze, + As o'er the keno board boldly he plays. + -That's Texas Bill. + + Wild hair flying, in a matted maze, + Hand firm as iron, eyes all ablaze; + Bystanders timidly, breathlessly gaze, + As o'er the keyboard boldly he plays. + -That's Paderewski. + + + + A CONTRIBUTION + + There came unto ye editor + A poet, pale and wan, + And at the table sate him down, + A roll within his hand. + + Ye editor accepted it, + And thanked his lucky fates; + Ye poet had to yield it up + To a king full on eights. + + + + SOME POSTSCRIPTS + + THE OLD FARM + + Just now when the whitening blossoms flare + On the apple trees and the growing grass + Creeps forth, and a balm is in the air; + With my lighted pipe and well-filled glass + Of the old farm I am dreaming, + And softly smiling, seeming + To see the bright sun beaming + Upon the old home farm. + + And when I think how we milked the cows, + And hauled the hay from the meadows low; + And walked the furrows behind the plows, + And chopped the cotton to make it grow + I'd much rather be here dreaming + And smiling, only seeming + To see the hot sun gleaming + Upon the old home farm. + + + + VANITY + + A Poet sang so wondrous sweet + That toiling thousands paused and listened long; + So lofty, strong and noble were his themes, + It seemed that strength supernal swayed his song. + + He, god-like, chided poor, weak, weeping man, + And bade him dry his foolish, shameful tears; + Taught that each soul on its proud self should lean, + And from that rampart scorn all earth-born fears, + The Poet grovelled on a fresh heaped mound, + Raised o'er the clay of one he'd fondly loved; + And cursed the world, and drenched the sod with tears + And all the flimsy mockery of his precepts proved. + + + THE LULLABY BOY + + The lullaby boy to the same old tune + Who abandons his drum and toys + For the purpose of dying in early June + Is the kind the public enjoys. + + But, just for a change, please sing us a song, + Of the sore-toed boy that's fly, + And freckled and mean, and ugly, and bad, + And positively will not die. + + + + CHANSON DE BOHEME + + Lives of great men all remind us + Rose is red and violet's blue; + Johnny's got his gun behind us + 'Cause the lamb loved Mary too. + + --Robert Burns' "Hocht Time in the aud Town." + + + I'd rather write this, as bad as it is + Than be Will Shakespeare's shade; + I'd rather be known as an F. F. V. + Than in Mount Vernon laid. + + I'd rather count ties from Denver to Troy + Than to head Booth's old programme; + I'd rather be special for the New York World + Than to lie with Abraham. + For there's stuff in the can, there's Dolly and Fan, + And a hundred things to choose; + There's a kiss in the ring, and every old thing + That a real live man can use. + + I'd rather fight flies in a boarding house + Than fill Napoleon's grave, + And snuggle up warm in my three slat bed + Than be Andre the brave. + + I'd rather distribute a coat of red + On the town with a wad of dough + Just now, than to have my cognomen + Spelled "Michael Angelo." + + For a small live man, if he's prompt on hand + When the good things pass around, + While the world's on tap has a better snap + Than a big man under ground. + + + HARD TO FORGET + + I'm thinking to-night of the old farm, Ned, + And my heart is heavy and sad + As I think of the days that by have fled + Since I was a little lad. + + There rises before me each spot I know + Of the old home in the dell, + The fields, and woods, and meadows below + That memory holds so well. + The city is pleasant and lively, Ned, + But what to us is its charm? + To-night all my thoughts are fixed, instead, + On our childhood's old home farm. + + I know you are thinking the same, dear Ned, + With your head bowed on your arm, + For to-morrow at four we'll be jerked out of bed + To plow on that darned old farm. + + DROP A TEAR IN THIS SLOT + + He who, when torrid Summer's sickly glare + Beat down upon the city's parched walls, + Sat him within a room scarce 8 by 9, + And, with tongue hanging out and panting breath + Perspiring, pierced by pangs of prickly heat, + Wrote variations of the seaside joke + We all do know and always loved so well, + And of cool breezes and sweet girls that lay + In shady nooks, and pleasant windy coves + Anon + Will in that self-same room, with tattered quilt + Wrapped round him, and blue stiffening hands, + All shivering, fireless, pinched by winter's blasts, + Will hale us forth upon the rounds once more, + So that we may expect it not in vain, + The joke of how with curses deep and coarse + Papa puts up the pipe of parlor stove. + So ye + Who greet with tears this olden favorite, + Drop one for him who, though he strives to please + Must write about the things he never sees + + TAMALES + + This is the Mexican + Don Jose Calderon + One of God's countrymen. + Land of the buzzard. + Cheap silver dollar, and + Cacti and murderers. + Why has he left his land + Land of the lazy man, + Land of the pulque + Land of the bull fight, + Fleas and revolution. + + This is the reason, + Hark to the wherefore; + Listen and tremble. + One of his ancestors, + Ancient and garlicky, + Probably grandfather, + Died with his boots on. + Killed by the Texans, + Texans with big guns, + At San Jacinto. + Died without benefit + Of priest or clergy; + Died full of minie balls, + Mescal and pepper. + + Don Jose Calderon + Heard of the tragedy. + Heard of it, thought of it, + Vowed a deep vengeance; + Vowed retribution + On the Americans, + Murderous gringos, + Especially Texans. + "Valga me Dios! que + Ladrones, diablos, + Matadores, mentidores, + Caraccos y perros, + Voy a matarles, + Con solos mis manos, + Toditas sin falta." + Thus swore the Hidalgo + Don Jose Calderon. + + He hied him to Austin. + Bought him a basket, + A barrel of pepper, + And another of garlic; + Also a rope he bought. + That was his stock in trade; + Nothing else had he. + Nor was he rated in + Dun or in Bradstreet, + Though he meant business, + Don Jose Calderon, + Champion of Mexico, + Don Jose Calderon, + Seeker of vengeance. + + With his stout lariat, + Then he caught swiftly + Tomcats and puppy dogs, + Caught them and cooked them, + Don Jose Calderon, + Vower of vengeance. + Now on the sidewalk + Sits the avenger + Selling Tamales to + Innocent purchasers. + Dire is thy vengeance, + Oh, Jose Calderon, + Pitiless Nemesis + Fearful Redresser + Of the wrongs done to thy + Sainted grandfather. + + Now the doomed Texans, + Rashly hilarious, + Buy of the deadly wares, + Buy and devour. + Rounders at midnight, + Citizens solid, + Bankers and newsboys, + Bootblacks and preachers, + Rashly importunate, + Courting destruction. + Buy and devour. + Beautiful maidens + Buy and devour, + Gentle society youths + Buy and devour. + + Buy and devour + This thing called Tamale; + Made of rat terrier, + Spitz dog and poodle. + Maltese cat, boardinghouse + Steak and red pepper. + Garlic and tallow, + Corn meal and shucks. + Buy without shame + Sit on store steps and eat, + Stand on the street and eat, + Ride on the cars and eat, + Strewing the shucks around + Over creation. + + Dire is thy vengeance. + Don Jose Calderon. + For the slight thing we did + Killing thy grandfather. + What boots it if we killed + Only one greaser, + Don Jose Calderon? + This is your deep revenge, + You have greased all of us, + Greased a whole nation + With your Tamales, + Don Jose Calderon. + Santos Esperiton, + Vincente Camillo, + Quitana de Rios, + De Rosa y Ribera. + + + +LETTERS + +[Letter to Mr. Gilman Hall, O. Henry's friend and Associate +Editor of Everybody's Magazine.] + +"the Callie"-- + +Excavation Road -- Sundy. + +my dear mr. hall: + +in your october E'bodys' i read a story in which i noticed some +sentences as follows: + +"Day in, day out, day in, day out, day in, day out, day in, day out, day +in, day out, it had rained, rained, and rained and rained & rained & +rained & rained & rained till the mountains loomed like a chunk of +rooined velvet." + +And the other one was: "i don't keer whether you are any good or not," +she cried. "You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! +You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! +You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! +You're alive! You're alive!" + +I thought she would never stop saying it, on and on and on and on and on +and on and on and on and on and on and on and on. "You're alive! You're +alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're +ALIVE! + +"You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! You're alive! +You're alive! You're alive! You're ALIVE! + +"YOU'RE ALIVE!" + +Say, bill; do you get this at a rate, or does every word go? + +i want to know, because if the latter is right i'm going to interduce in +compositions some histerical personages that will loom up large as +repeeters when the words are counted up at the polls. + +Yours truly +O. henry +28 West 26th St., +West of broadway + +Mr. hall, +part editor +of everybody's. + +Kyntoekneeyough Ranch, November 31, 1883. + + + * * * * + + +[Letter to Mrs. Hall, a friend back in North Carolina. This is +one of the earliest letters found.] + +Dear Mrs. Hall: + +As I have not heard from you since the shout you gave when you set out +from the station on your way home I guess you have not received some +seven or eight letters from me, and hence your silence. The mails are so +unreliable that they may all have been lost. If you don't get this you +had better send to Washington and get them to look over the dead letter +office for the others. I have nothing to tell you of any interest, +except that we all nearly froze to death last night, thermometer away +below 32 degrees in the shade all night. + +You ought by all means to come back to Texas this winter; you would love +it more and more; that same little breeze that you looked for so +anxiously last summer is with us now, as cold as Callum Bros. suppose +their soda water to be. + +My sheep are doing finely; they never were in better condition. They +give me very little trouble, for I have never been able to see one of +them yet. I will proceed to give you all the news about this ranch. Dick +has got his new house well under way, the pet lamb is doing finely, and +I take the cake for cooking mutton steak and fine gravy. The chickens +are doing mighty well, the garden produces magnificent prickly pears and +grass; onions are worth two for five cents, and Mr. Haynes has shot a +Mexican. + +Please send by express to this ranch 75 cooks and 200 washwomen, blind +or wooden legged ones perferred. The climate has a tendency to make them +walk off every two or three days, which must be overcome. Ed Brockman +has quit the store and I think is going to work for Lee among the cows. +Wears a red sash and swears so fluently that he has been mistaken often +for a member of the Texas Legislature. + +If you see Dr. Beall bow to him for me, politely but distantly; he +refuses to waste a line upon me. I suppose he is too much engaged in +courting to write any letters. Give Dr. Hall my profoundest regards. I +think about him invariably whenever he is occupying my thoughts. + +Influenced by the contents of the Bugle, there is an impression general +at this ranch that you are president, secretary, and committee, &c., of +the various associations of fruit fairs, sewing societies, church fairs, +Presbytery, general assembly, conference, medical conventions, and baby +shows that go to make up the glory and renown of North Carolina in +general, and while I heartily congratulate the aforesaid institutions on +their having such a zealous and efficient officer, I tremble lest their +requirements leave you not time to favor me with a letter in reply to +this, and assure you that if you would so honor me I would highly +appreciate the effort. I would rather have a good long letter from you +than many Bugles. In your letter be certain to refer as much as possible +to the advantages of civilized life over the barbarous; you might +mention the theatres you see there, the nice things you eat, warm fires, +niggers to cook and bring in wood; a special reference to nice +beef-steak would be advisable. You know our being reminded of these +luxuries makes us contented and happy. When we hear of you people at +home eating turkeys and mince pies and getting drunk Christmas and +having a fine time generally we become more and more reconciled to this +country and would not leave it for anything. + +I must close now as I must go and dress for the opera. Write soon. + +Yours very truly, +W.S. Porter. + + + + * * * * + + +To Dr. W.P. Beall + +[Dr. Beall, of Greensboro, N.C., was one of young Porter's dearest +friends. Between them there was an almost regular correspondence +during Porter's first years in Texas.] + +La Salle County, Texas, December 8, 1883. + +Dear Doctor: I send you a play--a regular high art--full orchestra, +gilt-edged drama. I send it to you because of old acquaintance and as a +revival of old associations. Was I not ever ready in times gone by to +generously furnish a spatula and other assistance when you did buy the +succulent watermelon? And was it not by my connivance and help that you +did oft from the gentle Oscar Mayo skates entice? But I digress. I think +that I have so concealed the identity of the characters introduced that +no one will be able to place them, as they all appear under fictitious +names, although I admit that many of the incidents and scenes were +suggested by actual experiences of the author in your city. + +You will, of course, introduce the play upon the stage if proper +arrangements can be made. I have not yet had an opportunity of +ascertaining whether Edwin Booth, John McCullough or Henry Irving can be +secured. However, I will leave all such matters to your judgment and +taste. Some few suggestions I will make with regard to the mounting of +the piece which may be of value to you. Discrimination will be necessary +in selecting a fit person to represent the character of Bill Slax, the +tramp. The part is that of a youth of great beauty and noble manners, +temporarily under a cloud and is generally rather difficult to fill +properly. The other minor characters, such as damfools, citizens, +police, customers, countrymen, &c., can be very easily supplied, +especially the first. + +Let it be announced in the Patriot for several days that in front of +Benbow Hall, at a certain hour, a man will walk a tight rope seventy +feet from the ground who has never made the attempt before; that the +exhibition will be FREE, and that the odds are 20 to 1 that the man will +be killed. A large crowd will gather. Then let the Guilford Grays charge +one side, the Reidsville Light Infantry the other, with fixed bayonets, +and a man with a hat commence taking up a collection in the rear. By +this means they can be readily driven into the hall and the door locked. + +I have studied a long time about devising a plan for obtaining pay from +the audience and have finally struck upon the only feasible one I think. + +After the performance let some one come out on the stage and announce +that James Forbis will speak two hours. The result, easily explainable +by philosophical and psychological reasons, will be as follows: The +minds of the audience, elated and inspired by the hope of immediate +departure when confronted by such a terror-inspiring and dismal +prospect, will collapse with the fearful reaction which will take place, +and for a space of time they will remain in a kind of comatose, +farewell-vain-world condition. Now, as this is the time when the +interest of the evening is at its highest pitch, let the melodious +strains of the orchestra steal forth as a committee appointed by the +managers of lawyers, druggists, doctors, and revenue officers, go around +and relieve the audience of the price of admission for each one. Where +one person has no money let it be made up from another, but on no +account let the whole sum taken be more than the just amount at usual +rates. + +As I said before, the characters in the play are purely imaginary, and +therefore not to be confounded with real persons. But lest any one, +feeling some of the idiosyncrasies and characteristics apply too +forcibly to his own high moral and irreproachable self, should allow his +warlike and combative spirits to arise, you might as you go, kind of +casually like, produce the impression that I rarely miss my aim with a +Colt's forty-five, but if that does not have the effect of quieting the +splenetic individual, and be still thirsts for Bill Slax's gore, just +inform him that if he comes out Here he can't get any whiskey within two +days' journey of my present abode, and water will have to be his only +beverage while on the warpath. This, I am sure, will avert the bloody +and direful conflict. + +Accept my lasting regards and professions of respect. + +Ever yours, + +Bill Slax + + + * * * * + + +To Dr. W. P. Beall + +My Dear Doctor: I wish you a happy, &c., and all that sort of thing, +don't you know, &c., &c. I send you a few little productions in the way +of poetry, &c, which, of course, were struck off in an idle moment. Some +of the pictures are not good likenesses, and so I have not labelled +them, which you may do as fast [as] you discover whom they represent, as +some of them resemble others more than themselves, but the poems are +good without exception, and will compare favorably with Baron Alfred's +latest on spring. + +I have just come from a hunt, in which I mortally wounded a wild hog, +and as my boots are full of thorns I can't write any longer than this +paper will contain, for it's all I've got, because I'm too tired to +write any more for the reason that I have no news to tell. + +I see by the Patriot that you are Superintendent of Public Health, and +assure you that all such upward rise as you make like that will ever be +witnessed with interest and pleasure by me, &c., &c. Give my regards to +Dr. and Mrs. Hall. It would be uncomplimentary to your powers of +perception as well as superfluous to say that I will now close and +remain, yours truly, + +W. S. Porter + + + * * * * + + +Letter to Dr. W. P. Beall + +La Salle County, Texas, February 27, 1884 + +My Dear Doctor: Your appreciated epistle of the 18th received. I was +very glad to hear from you. I hope to hear again if such irrelevant +correspondence will not interfere with your duties as Public Health +Eradicator, which I believe is the office you hold under county +authority. I supposed the very dramatic Shakespearian comedy to be the +last, as I heard nothing from you previous before your letter, and was +about to write another of a more exciting character, introducing several +bloody single combats, a dynamite explosion, a ladies' oyster supper for +charitable purposes, &c., also comprising some mysterious sub rosa +transactions known only to myself and a select few, new songs and +dances, and the Greensboro Poker Club. Having picked up a few points +myself relative to this latter amusement, I feel competent to give a +lucid, glittering portrait of the scenes presented under its auspices. +But if the former drama has reached you safely, I will refrain from +burdening you any more with the labors of general stage manager, &c. + +If long hair, part of a sombrero, Mexican spurs, &c., would make a +fellow famous, I already occupy a topmost niche in the Temple Frame. If +my wild, untamed aspect had not been counteracted by my well-known +benevolent and amiable expression of countenance, I would have been +arrested long ago by the Rangers on general suspicions of murder and +horse stealing. In fact, I owe all my present means of lugubrious living +to my desperate and bloodthirsty appearance, combined with the confident +and easy way in which I tackle a Winchester rifle. There is a gentleman +who lives about fifteen miles from the ranch, who for amusement and +recreation, and not altogether without an eye to the profit, keeps a +general merchandise store. This gent, for the first few months has been +trying very earnestly to sell me a little paper, which I would like much +to have, but am not anxious to purchase. Said paper is my account, +receipted. Occasionally he is absent, and the welcome news coming to my +ear, I mount my fiery boss and gallop wildly up to the store, enter with +something of the sang froid, grace, abandon and recherche nonchalance +with which Charles Yates ushers ladies and gentlemen to their seats in +the opera-house, and, nervously fingering my butcher knife, fiercely +demand goods and chattels of the clerk. This plan always succeeds. This +is by way of explanation of this vast and unnecessary stationery of +which this letter is composed. I am always in too big a hurry to demur +at kind and quality, but when I get to town I will write you on small +gilt-edged paper that would suit even the fastidious and discriminating +taste of a Logan. + +When I get to the city, which will be shortly, I will send you some +account of this country and its inmates. You are right, I have almost +forgotten what a regular old, gum-chewing, ice-cream destroying, opera +ticket vortex, ivory-clawing girl looks like. Last summer a very fair +specimen of this kind ranged over about Fort Snell, and I used to ride +over twice a week on mail days and chew the end of my riding whip while +she "Stood on the Bridge" and "Gathered up Shells on the Sea Shore" and +wore the "Golden Slippers." But she has vamoosed, and my ideas on the +subject are again growing dim. + +If you see anybody about to start to Texas to live, especially to this +part, if you will take your scalpyouler and sever the jugular vein, cut +the brachiopod artery and hamstring him, after he knows what you have +done for him he will rise and call you blessed. This country is a silent +but eloquent refutation of Bob Ingersoll's theory: a man here gets +prematurely insane, melancholy and unreliable and finally dies of lead +poisoning, in his boots, while in a good old land like Greensboro a man +can die, as they do every day, with all the benefits of the clergy. + +W. S. Porter + + + * * * * + + +Austin, Texas, April 21, 1885. + +Dear Dave: I take my pen in hand to let you know that I am well, and +hope these few lines will find you as well as can be expected. + +I carried out your parting injunction of a floral nature with all the +solemnity and sacredness that I would have bestowed upon a dying man's +last request. Promptly at half-past three I repaired to the robbers' +den, commonly known as Radams Horticultural and Vegetable Emporium, and +secured the high-priced offerings, according to promise. I asked if the +bouquets were ready, and the polite but piratical gentleman in charge +pointed proudly to two objects on the counter reposing in a couple of +vases, and said they were. + +I then told him I feared there was some mistake, as no buttonhole +bouquets had been ordered, but he insisted on his former declaration, +and so I brought them away and sent them to their respective +destinations. + +I thought it a pity to spoil a good deck of cards by taking out only +one, so I bundled up the whole deck, and inserted them in the bouquet, +but finally concluded it would not be right to violet (JOKE) my promise +and I rose (JOKE) superior to such a mean trick and sent only one as +directed. + +I have a holiday to-day, as it is San Jacinto day. Thermopylae had its +messenger of defeat, but the Alamo had none. Mr. President and fellow +citizens, those glorious heroes who fell for their country on the bloody +field of San Jacinto, etc. + +There is a bazaar to-night in the representatives' hall. You people out +in Colorado don't know anything. A bazaar is cedar and tacks and girls +and raw-cake and step-ladders and Austin Grays and a bass solo by Bill +Stacy, and net profits $2.65. + +Albert has got his new uniform and Alf Menille is in town, and tile +store needs the "fine Italian hand" of the bookkeeper very much, besides +some of his plain Anglo-Saxon conversation. + +Was interviewed yesterday by Gen'l Smith, Clay's father. He wants Jim S. +and me to represent a manufactory in Jeff. City: Convict labor. Says +parties in Galveston and Houston are making good thing of it. Have taken +him up. Hope to be at work soon. Glad, by jingo! Shake. What'll you +have? Claret and sugar? Better come home. Colorado no good. + +Strange thing happened in Episcopal Church Sunday Big crowd. Choir had +sung jolly tune and preacher come from behind scenes. Everything quiet. +Suddenly fellow comes down aisle. Late. Everybody looks. Disappointment. +It is a stranger. Jones and I didn't go. Service proceeds. + +Jones talks about his mashes and Mirabeau B. Lamar, daily. Yet there is +hope. Cholera infantum; Walsh's crutch; Harvey, or softening of the +brain may carry him off yet. + +Society notes are few. Bill Stacey is undecided where to spend the +summer. Henry Harrison will resort at Wayland and Crisers. Charlie Cook +will not go near a watering place if he can help it. + +If you don't strike a good thing out West, I hope we will see you soon. + +Yours as ever, + +W. S. P. + + + * * * * + + + +Austin, Texas, April 28, 1885 + +Dear Dave: I received your letter in answer to mine, which you never got +till sometime after you had written. + +I snatch a few moments from my arduous labors to reply. The Colorado has +been on the biggest boom I have seen since '39. In the pyrotechnical and +not strictly grammatical language of the Statesman--"The cruel, +devastating flood swept, on a dreadful holocaust of swollen, turbid +waters, surging and dashing in mad fury which have never been equalled +in human history. A pitiable sight was seen the morning after the flood. +Six hundred men, out of employment, were seen standing on the banks of +the river, gazing at the rushing stream, laden with debris of every +description. A wealthy New York Banker, who was present, noticing the +forlorn appearance of these men, at once began to collect a subscription +for them, appealing in eloquent terms for help for these poor sufferers +by the flood. He collected one dollar, and five horn buttons. The dollar +he had given himself. He learned on inquiry that these men had not been +at any employment in six years, and all they had lost by the flood was a +few fishing poles. The Banker put his dollar in his pocket and stepped +up to the Pearl Saloon." + +As you will see by this morning's paper, there is to be a minstrel show +next Wednesday for benefit of Austin Grays. + +I attended the rehearsal last night, but am better this morning, and the +doctor thinks I will pull through with careful attention. + +The jokes are mostly mildewed, rockribbed, and ancient as the sun. I can +give you no better idea of the tout ensemble and sine die of the affair +than to state that Scuddy is going to sing a song. + +Mrs. Harrell brought a lot of crystallized fruits from New Orleans for +you. She wants to know if she shall send them around on Bois d'arc or +keep them 'til you return. Answer. + +Write to your father. He thinks you are leaving him out, writing to +everybody else first. Write. + +We have the boss trick here now. Have sold about ten boxes of cigars +betting on it in the store. + +Take four nickels, and solder them together so the solder will not +appear. Then cut out of three of them, square hole like this: +(Illustration.) Take about twelve other nickels, and on top of them you +lay a small die with the six up, that will fit easily in the hole +without being noticed. You lay the four nickels over this, and all +presents the appearance of a stack of nickels. You do all this privately +so everybody will suppose it is nothing but a stack of five-cent pieces. +You then lay another small die on top of the stack with the ace up. You +have a small tin cup shaped like this (Illustration) made for the +purpose. You let everybody see the ace, and then say you propose to turn +the ace into a six. You lay the tin cup carefully over the stack this +way, and feel around in your pocket for a pencil and not finding one. + +(The rest of this letter is lost) + + + + * * * * + + +AUSTIN, Texas, May 10, 1885. + +Dear Dave: I received your two letters and have commenced two or three +in reply, but always failed to say what I wanted to, and destroyed them +all. I heard from Joe that you would probably remain in Colorado. I hope +you will succeed in making a good thing out of it, if you conclude to do +so, but would like to see you back again in Austin. If there is anything +I can do for you here, let me know. + +Town is fearfully dull, except for the frequent raids of the Servant +Girl Annihilators, who make things lively during the dead hours of the +night; if it were not for them, items of interest would be very scarce, +as you may see by the STATESMAN. + +Our serenading party has developed new and alarming modes of torture for +our helpless and sleeping victims. Last Thursday night we loaded up a +small organ on a hack and with our other usual instruments made an +assault upon the quiet air of midnight that made the atmosphere turn +pale. + +After going the rounds we were halted on the Avenue by Fritz Hartkopf +and ordered into his salon. We went in, carrying the organ, etc. A large +crowd of bums immediately gathered, prominent among which, were to be +seen Percy James, Theodore Hillyer, Randolph Burmond, Charlie Hicks, and +after partaking freely of lemonade we wended our way down, and were duly +halted and treated in the same manner by other hospitable gentlemen. + +We were called in at several places while wit and champagne, Rhein Wine, +etc., flowed in a most joyous and hilarious manner. It was one of the +most recherche and per diem affairs ever known in the city. Nothing +occurred to mar the pleasure of the hour, except a trifling incident +that might be construed as malapropos and post-meridian by the +hypercritical. Mr. Charles Sims on attempting to introduce Mr. Charles +Hicks and your humble servant to young ladies, where we had been invited +inside, forgot our names and required to be informed on the subject +before proceeding. + +Yours + +W. S. P. + + + * * * * + + + +AUSTIN, Texas, December 22, 1885. + +Dear Dave: Everything wept at your departure. Especially the clouds. +Last night the clouds had a silver lining, three dollars and a half's +worth. I fulfilled your engagement in grand, tout ensemble style, but +there is a sad bon jour look about the thirty-eight cents left in my +vest pocket that would make a hired man weep. All day long the heavens +wept, and the heavy, sombre clouds went drifting about over head, and +the north wind howled in maniacal derision, and the hack drivers danced +on the pavements in wild, fierce glee, for they knew too well what the +stormy day betokened. The hack was to call for me at eight. At five +minutes to eight I went upstairs and dressed in my usual bijou and +operatic style, and rolled away to the opera. Emma sang finely. I +applauded at the wrong times, and praised her rendering of the chromatic +scale when she was performing on "c" flat andante pianissimo, but +otherwise the occasion passed off without anything to mar the joyousness +of the hour. Everybody was there. Isidor Moses and John Ireland, and +Fritz Hartkopf and Prof. Herzog and Bill Stacy and all the bong ton +elight. You will receive a draft to-day through the First National Bank +of Colorado for $3.65, which you will please honor. + +There is no news, or there are no news, either you like to tell. Lavaca +Street is very happy and quiet and enjoys life, for Jones was sat on by +his Uncle Wash and feels humble and don't sing any more, and the spirit +of peace and repose broods over its halls. Martha rings the matin bell, +it seems to me before cock crow or ere the first faint streaks of dawn +are limned in the eastern sky by the rosy fingers of Aurora. At noon the +foul ogre cribbage stalks rampant, and seven-up for dim, distant oysters +that only the eye of faith can see. + +The hour grows late. The clock strikes! Another day has vanished. Gone +into the dim recesses of the past, leaving its record of misspent hours, +false hopes, and disappointed expectations. May a morrow dawn that will +bring recompense and requital for the sorrows of the days gone by, and a +new order of things when there will be more starch in cuff and collar, +and less in handkerchiefs. + +Come with me out into the starlight night. So calm, so serene, ye lights +of heaven, so high above earth; so pure and majestic and mysterious; +looking down on the mad struggle of life here below, is there no pity in +your never closing eyes for us mortals on which you shine? + +Come with me on to the bridge. Ah, see there, far below, the dark, +turbid stream. Rushing and whirling and eddying under the dark pillars +with ghostly murmur and siren whisper. What shall we find in your +depths? The stars do not reflect themselves in your waters, they are too +dark and troubled and swift! What shall we find in your depths? +Rest?--Peace?--catfish? Who knows? 'Tis but a moment. A leap! A +plunge!--and--then oblivion or another world? Who can tell? A man once +dived into your depths and brought up a horse collar and a hoop-skirt. +Ah! what do we know of the beyond? We know that death comes, and we +return no more to our world of trouble and care-but where do we go? Are +there lands where no traveler has been? A chaos-perhaps where no human +foot has trod--perhaps Bastrop--perhaps New Jersey! Who knows? Where do +people go who are in McDade? Do they go where they have to fare worse? +They cannot go where they have worse fare! + +Let us leave the river. The night grows cold. We could not pierce the +future or pay the tell. Come, the ice factory is deserted! No one sees +us. My partner, W. I. Anderson, will never destroy himself. Why? His +credit is good. No one will sue a side-partner of mine! You have heard +of a brook murmuring, but you never knew a sewer sighed! But we digress! +We will no longer pursue a side issue like this. Au reevoir. I will see +you later. Yours truly, + + WILLIAM SHAKESPEARE INGOMAR JUNIUS + BRUTUS CALLIOPE SIX-HANDED EUCHRE + GROVER CLEVELAND HILL CITY QUARTETTE JOHNSON. + + + * * * * + + + + +AN EARLY PARABLE + +In one of his early letters, written from Austin, O. Henry wrote a long +parable that was evidently to tell his correspondent some of the local +gossip. Here it is Once upon a time there was a maiden in a land not fax +away--a maiden of much beauty and rare accomplishments. She was beloved +by all on account of her goodness of heart, and her many charms of +disposition. Her father was a great lord, rich and powerful, and a +mighty man, and he loved his daughter with exceeding great love, and he +cared for her with jealous and loving watchfulness, lest any harm should +befall her, or even the least discomfort should mar her happiness and +cause any trouble in her smooth and peaceful life. The cunningest +masters were engaged to teach her from her youngest days; she played +upon the harpsichord the loveliest and sweetest music; she wrought fancy +work in divers strange and wonderful forms that might puzzle all +beholders as to what manner of things they might be; she sang; and all +listeners hearkened thereunto, as to the voice of an angel; she danced +stately minuets with the gay knights as graceful as a queen and as light +as the thistledown borne above the clover blossoms by the wind; she +could paint upon china, rare and unknown flowers the like unto which man +never saw in colors, crimson and blue and yellow, glorious to behold; +she conversed in unknown tongues whereof no man knew the meaning and +sense; and created wild admiration in all, by the ease and grace with +which she did play upon a new and strange instrument of wondrous sound +and structure which she called a banjo. + +She had gone into a strange land, far away beyond the rivers that flowed +through her father's dominion--farther than one could see from the +highest castle tower--up into the land of ice and snow, where wise men, +famous for learning and ancient lore had gathered together from many +lands and countries the daughters of great men. Kings and powerful +rulers, railroad men, bankers, mighty men who wished to bring up their +children to be wise and versed in all things old and new. Here, the +Princess abode for many seasons, and she sat at the feet of old wise +men, who could tell of the world's birth, and the stars, and read the +meaning of the forms of the rocks that make the high mountains and knew +the history of all created things that are; and here she learned to +speak strange tongues, and studied the deep mysteries of the past--the +secrets of the ancients; Chaldic lore; Etruscan inscription; hidden and +mystic sciences, and knew the names of all the flowers and things that +grow in fields or wood; even unto the tiniest weed by the brook. + +In due time the Princess came back to her father's castle. The big bell +boomed from the high tower; the heavy iron gates were thrown open; +banners floated all along the battlemented walls, and in the grand hall, +servants and retainers hurried to and fro, bearing gold dishes, and +great bowls of flaming smoking punch, while oxen were roasted whole and +hogsheads of ale tapped on the common by the castle walls, and thither +hied them the villagers one and all to make merry at the corning of the +dear Princess again. "She will come back so wise and learned," they +said, "so far above us that she will not notice us as she did once," but +not so: the Princess with a red rose in her hair, and dressed so plain +and neat that she looked more like a farmer's daughter than a great +king's, came down among them from her father's side with nods of love +and welcome on her lips, and a smile upon her face, and took them by the +hands as in the old days, and none among them so lowly or so poor but +what received a kind word from the gracious Princess, and carried away +in their hearts glad feelings that she was still the same noble and +gracious lady she always was. Then night came, and torches by thousands +lit up the great forest, and musicians played and bonfires glowed, with +sparks flying like myriads of stars among the gloomy trees. + +In the great castle hall were gathered the brave knights and the fairest +ladies in the kingdom. The jolly old King, surrounded by the wise men +and officers of state moved about among his guests, stately and +courteous, ravishing music burst forth from all sides, and down the hall +moved the fair Princess in the mazy dance, on the arm of a Knight who +gazed upon her face in rapt devotion and love. Who was he that dared to +look thus upon the daughter of the King, sovereign prince of the +kingdom, and the heiress of her father's wealth and lands. + +He had no title, no proud name to place beside a royal one, beyond that +of an honorable knight, but who says that that is not a title that, +borne worthily, makes a man the peer of any that wears a crown? + +He had loved her long. When a boy they had roamed together in the great +forest about the castle, and played among the fountains of the court +like brother and sister, The King saw them together often and smiled and +went his way and said nothing. The years went on and they were together +as much as they could be. The summer days when the court went forth into +the forest mounted on prancing steeds to chase the stags with hounds; +all clad in green and gold with waving plumes and shining silver and +ribbons of gay colors, this Knight was by the Princess' side to guide +her through the pathless swamps where the hunt ranged, and saw that no +harm came to her. And now that she had come back after years of absence, +he went to her with fear lest she should have changed for her old self, +and would not be to him as she was when they were boy and girl together. +But no, there was the same old kindly welcome, the same smiling +greeting, the warm pressure of the hand, the glad look in the eyes as of +yore. The Knight's heart beat wildly and a dim new-awakened hope arose +in him. Was she too far away, after all? + +He felt worthy of her, and of any one in fact, but he was without +riches, only a knight-errant with his sword for his fortune, and his +great love his only title; and he had always refrained from ever telling +her anything of his love, for his pride prevented him, and you know a +poor girl even though she be a princess cannot say to a man, "I am rich, +but, let that be no bar between us, I am yours and will let my wealth +pass if you will give up your pride." No princess can say this, and the +Knight's pride would not let him say anything of the kind and so you see +there was small chance of their ever coming to an understanding. + +Well, the feasting and dancing went on, and the Knight and the Princess +danced and sang together, and walked out where the moon was making a +white wonder of the great fountain, and wandered under the rows of great +oaks, but spoke no word of love, though no mortal man knows what +thoughts passed in their heads; and she gave long accounts of the +wonders she had seen in the far, icy north, in the great school of wise +men, and the Knight talked of the wild and savage men he had seen in the +Far West, where he had been in battles with the heathen in a wild and +dreary land; and she heard with pity his tales of suffering and trials +in the desert among wild animals and fierce human kings; and inside the +castle the music died away and the lights grew dim and the villagers had +long since gone to their homes and the Knight and the Princess still +talked of old times, and the moon climbed high in the eastern sky. + +One day there came news from a country far to the west where lay the +possessions of the Knight. The enemy had robbed him of his treasure, +driven away his cattle, and he found it was best to hie him away and +rescue his inheritance and goods. He buckled on his sword and mounted +his good war-horse. He rode to the postern gate of the castle to make +his adieus to the Princess. When he told her he was going away to the +wild western country to do battle with the heathen, she grew pale and +her eyes took on a look of such pain and fear that the Knight's heart +leaped and then sank in his bosom, a his pride still kept him from +speaking the words that might have made all well. + +She bade him farewell in a low voice, and tears even stood in leer eyes, +but what could she say or do? + +The Knight put spurs to his horse, and dashed away over the hills +without ever looking back, and the Princess stood looking over the gate +at him till the last sight of his plume below the brow of the hill. The +Knight was gone. Many suitors flocked about the Princess. Mighty lords +and barons of great wealth were at her feet and attended her every +journey. They came and offered themselves and their fortunes again and +again, but none of them found favor in her eyes. "Will the Princess +listen to no one?" they began to say among themselves. "Has she given +her heart to some one who is not among us?" No one could say. + +A great and mighty physician, young and of wondrous power in his art, +telephoned to her every night if he might come down. How his suit +prospered no one could tell, but he persevered with great and +astonishing diligence. A powerful baron who assisted in regulating the +finances of the kingdom and who was a direct descendant of a great +prince who was cast into a lion's den, knelt at her feet. + +A gay and lively lord who lived in a castle hung with ribbons and +streamers and gay devices of all kinds, with other nobles of like +character, prostrated themselves before her, but she would listen to +none of them. + +The Princess rode about in quiet ways in the cool evenings upon a gray +palfrey, alone and very quiet, and she seemed to grow silent and +thoughtful as time went on and no news came from the western wars, and +the Knight came not back again. + +[Written to his daughter Margaret.] + + + * * * * + + + +TOLEDO, Ohio, Oct. 1, 1900. + +Dear Margaret: I got your very nice, long letter a good many days ago. +It didn't come straight to me, but went to a wrong address first. I was +very glad indeed to hear from you, and very, very sorry to learn of your +getting your finger so badly hurt. I don't think you were to blame at +all, as you couldn't know just how that villainous old "hoss" was going +to bite. I do hope that it will heal up nicely and leave your finger +strong. I am learning to play the mandolin, and we must get you a +guitar, and we will learn a lot of duets together when I come home which +will certainly not be later than next summer, and maybe earlier. + +I suppose you have started to school again some time ago. I hope you +like to go, and don't have to study too hard. When one grows up, a thing +they never regret is that they went to school long enough to learn all +they could. It makes everything easier for them, and if they like books +and study they can always content and amuse themselves that way even if +other people are cross and tiresome, and the world doesn't go to suit +them. You mustn't think that I've forgotten somebody's birthday. I +couldn't find just the thing I wanted to send, but I know where it can +be had, and it will reach you in a few days. So, when it comes you'll +know it is for a birthday remembrance. + +I think you write the prettiest hand of any little girl (or big one, +either) I ever knew. The letters you make are as even and regular as +printed ones. The next time you write, tell me how far you have to go to +school and whether you go alone or not. + +I am busy all the time writing for the papers and magazines all over the +country, so I don't have a chance to come home, but I'm going to try to +come this winter. If I don't I will by summer SURE, and then you'll have +somebody to boss and make trot around with you. + +Write me a letter whenever you have some time to spare, for I am always +glad and anxious to hear from you. Be careful when you are on the +streets not to feed shucks to strange dogs, or pat snakes on the head or +shake hands with cats you haven't been introduced to, or stroke the +noses of electric car horses. + +Hoping you are well and your finger is getting all right, I am, with +much love, as ever, PAPA. + + + * * * * + + + +My Dear Margaret: Here it is summertime, and the bees are blooming and +the flowers are singing and the birds making honey, and we haven't been +fishing yet. Well, there's only one more month till July, and then we'll +go, and no mistake. I thought you would write and tell me about the high +water around Pittsburg some time ago, and whether it came up to where +you live, or not. And I haven't heard a thing about Easter, and about +the rabbit's eggs--but I suppose you have learned by this time that eggs +grow on egg plants and are not laid by rabbits. + +I would like very much to hear from you oftener, it has been more than a +month now since you wrote. Write soon and tell me how you are, and when +school will be out, for we want plenty of holidays in July so we can +have a good time. I am going to send you something nice the last of this +week. What do you guess it will be? + + Lovingly, + PAPA. + + + * * * * + + +The Caledonia + +WEDNESDAY. + +My Dear Mr. Jack: + +I owe Gilman Hall $175 (or mighty close to it) pussonally--so he tells +me. I thought it was only about $30, but he has been keeping the +account. He's just got to have it to-day. McClure's will pay me some +money on the 15th of June, but I can't get it until then. I was +expecting it before this--anyhow before Gilman left, but they stick to +the letter. + +I wonder if you could give me a check for that much to pay him to-day. +If you will I'll hold up my right hand--thus: that I'll have you a +first-class story on your desk before the last of this week. + +I reckon I'm pretty well overdrawn, but I've sure got to see that Hall +gets his before he leaves. I don't want anything for myself. + +Please, sir, let me know right away, by return boy if you'll do it. + +If you can't, I'll have to make a quick dash at the three-ball +magazines; and I do hate to tie up with them for a story. + +The Same + +MR. J. O. H. COSGRAVE, SYDNEY PORTER. + +at this time editor of Everybody's Magazine. + + + * * * * + + +A letter to Gilman Hall, written just before the +writer's marriage to Miss Sara Lindsay Coleman of +Asheville, N. C. + + WEDNESDAY. +Dear Gilman: + +Your two letters received this A.M. Mighty good letters, too, and +cheering. + +Mrs. Jas. Coleman is writing Mrs. Ball to-day. She is practically the +hostess at Wynn Cottage where the hullabaloo will occur. + +Say, won't you please do one or two little things for me before you +leave, as you have so kindly offered? + +(1) Please go to Tiffany's and get a wedding ring, size 5 1/4. Sara says +the bands worn now are quite narrow--and that's the kind she wants. + +(2) And bring me a couple of dress collars, size 16 1/2. I have ties. + +(3) And go to a florist's--there is one named Mackintosh (or something +like that) on Broadway, East side of street five or site doors north of +26th St., where I used to buy a good many times. He told me he could +ship flowers in good shape to Asheville--you might remind him that I +used to send flowers to 36 West 17th Street some time ago. I am told by +the mistress of ceremonies that I am to furnish two bouquets--one of +lilies of the valley and one of pale pink roses. Get plenty of each-- +say enough lilies to make a large bunch to be carried in the hand, and +say three or four dozen of the roses. + +I note what you say about hard times and will take heed. I'm not going +into any extravagances at all, and I'm going to pitch into hard work +just as soon as I get the rice grains out of my ear. + +I wired you to-day "MS. mailed to-day, please rush one century by wire." + +That will exhaust the Reader check--if it isn't too exhausted itself to +come. You, of course, will keep the check when it arrives--I don't think +they will fall down on it surely. I wrote Howland a pretty sharp letter +and ordered him to send it at once care of Everybody's. + +When this story reaches you it will cut down the overdraft "right +smart," but if the house is willing I'd mighty well like to run it up to +the limit again, because cash is sure scarce, and I'll have to have +something like $300 more to see me through. The story I am sending is a +new one; I still have another partly written for you, which I shall +finish and turn in before I get back to New York and then we'll begin to +clean up all debts. + +Just after the wedding we are going to Hot Spring, N. C., only +thirty-five miles from Asheville, where there is a big winter resort +hotel, and stay there about a week or ten days. Then back to New York. + +Please look over the story and arrange for bringing me the $300 when you +come--it will still keep me below the allowed limit and thereafter I +will cut down instead of raising it. + +Just had a 'phone message from S. L. C. saying how pleased she was with +your letter to her. + +I'm right with you on the question of the "home-like" system of having +fun. I think we'll all agree beautifully on that. I've had all the cheap +bohemia that I want. I can tell you, none of the "climbers" and the +cocktail crowd are going to bring their vaporings into my house. It's +for the clean, merry life, with your best friends in the game and a +general concentration of energies and aims. I am having a cedarwood club +cut from the mountains with knots on it, and I am going to stand in my +hallway (when I have one) and edit with it the cards of all callers. You +and Mrs. will have latchkeys, of course. + +Yes, I think you'd better stay at the hotel ---- Of course they'd want +you out at Mrs. C's. But suppose we take Mrs. Hall out there, and you +and I remain at the B. P. We'll be out at the Cottage every day anyhow, +and it'll be scrumptious all round. + +I'm simply tickled to death that "you all" are coming. The protoplasm is +in Heaven; all's right with the world. Pippa passes. + + Yours as ever, + + BILL. + + + * * * * + + + +My Dear Col. Griffith: FRIDAY. + +Keep your shirt on. I found I had to re-write the story when it came in. +I am sending you part of it just so you will have something tangible to +remind you that you can't measure the water from the Pierian Spring in +spoonfuls. + +I've got the story in much better form; and I'll have the rest of it +ready this evening. + +I'm sorry to have delayed it; but it's best for both of us to have it a +little late and a good deal better. + +I'll send over the rest before closing time this afternoon or the +first thing in the morning. + +In its revised form I'm much better pleased with it. + +Yours truly, + +SYDNEY PORTER. + + + * * * * + + + +Mr. Al. Jennings, of Oklahoma City, was an early friend of O. Henry's. +Now, in 1.9122, a prominent attorney, Mr. Jennings, in his youth, held +up trains. + +28 W. 26. N. Y. SUNDAY. +ALGIE JENNINGS, ESQ., THE WEST. + +DEAR BILL: + +Glad you've been sick too. I'm well again. Are you? Well, as I had +nothing to do I thought I would write you a letter; and as I have +nothing to say I will close. How are ye, Bill? How's old Initiative and +Referendum? When you cming back to Manhattan? You wouldn't know the old +town now. Main Street is building up, and there is talk of an English +firm putting up a new hotel. I saw Duffy a few days ago. He looks kind +of thoughtful as if he were trying to calculate how much he'd have been +ahead on Gerald's board and clothes by now if you bad taken him with +you. Mrs. Hale is up in Maine for a 3 weeks' vacation. + +Say, Bill, I'm sending your MS. back by mail to-day. I kept it a little +longer after you sent for it because one of the McClure & Phillips firm +wanted to see it first. Everybody says it is full of good stuff, but +thinks it should be put in a more connected shape by some skilful writer +who has been trained to that sort work. + +It seems to me that you ought to do better with it out there than you +could here. If you can get somebody out there to publish it it ought to +sell all right. N. Y. is a pretty cold proposition and it can't see as +far as the Oklahoma country when it is looking for sales. How about +trying Indianapolis or Chicago? Duffy told me about the other MS sent +out by your friend Abbott. Kind of a bum friendly trick, wasn't it? + +Why don't you get "Arizona's Hand" done and send it on? Seems to me you +could handle a short story all right. + +My regards to Mrs. Jennings and Bro. Frank. Write some more. + +Still +BILL. + + + * * * * + + +Dear Jennings: + +N. Y., May 23, '05. + +Got your letter all right. Hope you'll follow it soon. I'd advise you +not to build any high hopes on your book--just consider that you're on a +little pleasure trip, and taking it along as a side line. Mighty few +MSS. ever get to be books, and mighty few books pay. + +I have to go to Pittsburg the first of next week to be gone about 3 or 4 +days. If you decide to come here any time after the latter part of next +week I will be ready to meet you. Let me know in advance a day or two. + +Gallot is in Grand Rapids--maybe he will run over for a day or two. + +In haste and truly yours, +W. S. P. + + + * * * * + + +[It was hard to get O. Henry to take an interest in his books. He +was always eager to be at the undone work, to be writing a new +story instead of collecting old ones. This letter came from North +Carolina. It shows how much thought he gave always to titles.] + +LAND o' THE SKY, Monday, 1909. + +My dear Colonel Steger: As I wired you to-day, I like "Man About Town" +for a title. + +But I am sending in a few others for you to look at; and if any other +suits you better, I'm agreeable. Here they are, in preferred order: + + The Venturers. + Transfers. + Merry-Go-Rounds. + Babylonica. + Brickdust from Babel. + Babes in the Jungle. + +If none of these hit you right, let me know and I'll get busy again. But +I think "Man About Town" is about the right thing. It gives the city +idea without using the old hackneyed words. + +I am going to write you a letter in a day or so "touchin' on and +appertainin' to" other matters and topics. I am still improving and +feeling pretty good. Colonel Bingham has put in a new ash-sifter and +expects you to come down and see that it works all right. + +All send regards to you. You seem to have made quite a hit down here for +a Yankee. + +Salutations and good wishes. Yours, S. P. + + +[This letter was found unfinished, among his papers after his +death. His publishers had discussed many times his writing of a +novel, but the following letter constitutes the only record of his +own opinions in the matter. The date is surely 1909 or 1910.] + +My Dear Mr. Steger: My idea is to write the story of a man--an +individual, not a type--but a man who, at the same time, I want to +represent a "human nature type," if such a person could exist. The story +will teach no lesson, inculcate no moral, advance no theory. I want it +to be something that it won't or can't be--but as near as I can make +it--the true record of a man's thoughts, his description of his +mischances and adventures, his TRUE opinions of life as he has seen it +and his ABSOLUTELY HONEST deductions, comments, and views upon the +different phases of life that he passes through. + +I do not remember ever to have read an autobiography, a biography, or a +piece of fiction that told the TRUTH. Of course, I have read stuff such +as Rousseau and Zola and George Moore and various memoirs that were +supposed to be window panes in their respective breasts; but, mostly, +all of them were either liars, actors, or posers. (Of course, I'm not +trying to belittle the greatness of their literary expression.) + +All of us have to be prevaricators, hypocrites and liars every day of +our lives; otherwise the social structure would fall into pieces the +first day. We must act in one another's presence just as we must wear +clothes. It is for the best. + +The trouble about writing the truth has been that the writers have kept +in their minds one or another or all of three thoughts that made a +handicap--they were trying either to do a piece of immortal literature, +or to shock the public or to please editors. Some of them succeeded in +all three, but they did not write the TRUTH. Most autobiographies are +insincere from beginning to end. About the only chance for the truth to +be told is in fiction. It is well understood that "all the truth" cannot +be told in print--but how about "nothing but the truth"? That's what I +want to do. + +I want the man who is telling the story to tell it--not as he would to a +reading public or to a confessor--but something in this way: Suppose he +were marooned on an island in mid-ocean with no hope of ever being +rescued; and, in order to pass away some of the time he should tell a +story to HIMSELF embodying his adventure and experiences and opinions. +Having a certain respect for himself (let us hope) he would leave out +the "realism" that he would have no chance of selling in the market; he +would omit the lies and self-conscious poses, and would turn out to his +one auditor something real and true. + +So, as truth is not to be found in history, autobiography, press reports +(nor at the bottom of an H. G. Wells), let us hope that fiction may be +the means of bringing out a few grains of it. + +The "hero" of the story will be a man born and "raised" in a somnolent +little southern town. His education is about a common school one, but he +learns afterward from reading and life. I'm going to try to give him a +"style" in narrative and speech--the best I've got in the shop. I'm +going to take him through all the main phases of life--wild adventure, +city, society, something of the "under world," and among many +characteristic planes of the phases. I want him to acquire all the +sophistication that experience can give him, and always preserve his +individual honest HUMAN view, and have him tell the TRUTH about +everything. + +It is time to say now, that by the "truth" I don't mean the +objectionable stuff that so often masquerades under the name. I mean +true opinions a true estimate of all things as they seem to the "hero." +If you find a word or a suggestive line or sentence in any of my copy, +you cut it out and deduct it from the royalties. + +I want this man to be a man of natural intelligence, of individual +character, absolutely open and broad minded; and show how the Creator of +the earth has got him in a rat trap--put him here "willy nilly" (you +know the Omar verse); and then I want to show what he does about it. +There is always the eternal question from the Primal Source--"What are +you going to do about it?" Please don't think for the half of a moment +that the story is going to be anything of an autobiography. I have a +distinct character in my mind for the part, and he does not at all. + +(Here the letter ends. He never finished it.) + + + * * * * + + +THE STORY OF "HOLDING UP A TRAIN" + +In "Sixes and Sevens" there appears an article entitled "Holding Up a +Train." Now the facts were given to O. Henry by an old and dear friend +who, in his wild avenging youth, had actually held up trains. To-day he +is Mr. Al. Jennings, of Oklahoma City, Okla., a prominent attorney. He +has permitted the publication of two letters O. Henry wrote him, the +first outlining the story as he thought his friend Jennings ought to +write it, and the second announcing that, with O. Henry's revision, the +manuscript had been accepted. + + +From W. S. Porter to Al. Jennings, September 21st +(year not given but probably 1902). + +DEAR PARD: + +In regard to that article--I will give you my idea of what is wanted. +Say we take for a title "The Art and Humor of the Hold-up"--or something +like that. I would suggest that in writing you assume a character. We +have got to respect the conventions and delusions of the public to a +certain extent. An article written as you would naturally write it would +be regarded as a fake and an imposition. Remember that the traditions +must be preserved wherever they will not interfere with the truth. Write +in as simple, plain and unembellished a style as you know how. Make your +sentences short. Put in as much realism and as many facts as possible. +Where you want to express an opinion or comment on the matter do it as +practically and plainly as you can. Give it LIFE and the vitality of +FACTS. + +Now, I will give you a sort of general synopsis of my idea--of course, +everything is subject to your own revision and change. The article, we +will say, is written by a TYPICAL train hoister--one without your +education and powers of expression (bouquet) but intelligent enough to +convey his ideas from HIS STANDPOINT--not from John Wanamaker's. Yet, in +order to please John, we will have to assume a virtue that we do not +possess. Comment on the moral side of the proposition as little as +possible. Do not claim that holding up trains is the only business a +gentleman would engage in, and, on the contrary, do not depreciate a +profession that is really only fnanciering with spurs on. Describe the +FACTS and DETAILS--all that part of the proceedings that the passenger +sitting with his hands up in a Pullman looking into the end of a tunnel +in the hands of one of the performers does not see. Here is a rough +draft of my idea: Begin abruptly, without any philosophizing, with your +idea of the best times, places and conditions for the hold-up---compare +your opinions of this with those of others--mention some poorly +conceived attempts and failures of others, giving your opinion why--as +far as possible refer to actual occurrences, and incidents--describe the +manner of a hold-up, how many men is best, where they are stationed, how +do they generally go into it, nervous? or joking? or solemnly. The +details of stopping the train, the duties of each man of the gang--the +behavior of the train crew and passengers (here give as many brief odd +and humorous incidents as you can think of). Your opinions on going +through the passengers, when is it done and when not done. How is the +boodle gotten at? How does the express clerk generally take it? Anything +done with the mail car? UNDER WHAT CIRCUMSTANCES WILL A TRAIN ROBBER +SHOOT A PASSENGER OR A TRAIN MAN--suppose a man refuses to throw up his +hands? Queer articles found on passengers (a chance here for some +imaginative work)--queer and laughable incidents of any kind. Refer +whenever apropos to actual hold-ups and facts concerning them of +interest. What could two or three brave and determined passengers do if +they were to try? Why don't they try? How long does it take to do the +business. Does the train man ever stand in with the hold-up? Best means +of getting away--how and when is the money divided. How is it mostly +spent. Best way to manoeuvre afterward. How to get caught and how not +to. Comment on the methods of officials who try to capture. (Here's your +chance to get even.) + +These ideas are some that occur to me casually. You will, of course, +have many far better. I suggest that you make the article anywhere from +4,000 to 6,000 words. Get as much meat in it as you can, and, by the +way--stuff it full of western, GENUINE slang--(not the eastern story +paper kind). Get all the quaint cowboy expressions and terms of speech +you can think of. + +INFORMATION is what we want, clothed in the peculiar western style of +the character we want to present. The main idea is to be NATURAL, +DIRECT, AND CONCISE. + +I hope you will understand what I say. I don't. But try her a whack and +send it along as soon as you can, and let's see what we can do. By the +way, Mr. "Everybody" pays good prices. I thought I would, when I get +your story, put it into the shape my judgment decides upon, and then +send both your MS. and mine to the magazine. If he uses mine, we'll +whack up shares on the proceeds. If he uses yours, you get the check +direct. If he uses neither, we are out only a few stamps. + +Sincerely your friend, +W. S. P. + + + * * * * + + +And here is the letter telling his "pard" that the article +had been bought by Everybody's Magazine. This is +dated Pittsburg, October 24th, obviously the same year: + +DEAR PARD. + +You're It. I always told you you were a genius. All you need is to +succeed in order to make a success. + +I enclose your letter which explains itself. When you see your baby in +print don't blame me if you find strange ear marks and brands on it. I +slashed it and cut it and added lots of stuff that never happened, but I +followed your facts and ideas, and that is what made it valuable. I'll +think up some other idea for an article and we'll collaborate again some +time--eh? + +I have all the work I can do, and am selling it right along. Have +averaged about $150 per month since August 1st. And yet I don't +overwork--don't think I ever will. I commence about 9 A. M. and +generally knock off about 4 or 5 P. M. + +As soon as check mentioned in letter comes I'll send you your "sheer" of +the boodle. + +By the way, please keep my nom de plume strictly to yourself. I don't +want any one to know, just yet. + +Give my big regards to Billy. Reason with him and try to convince him +that we believe him to be pure merino and of more than average width. +With the kindest remembrances to yourself I remain, + +Your friend, +W. S. P. + +At this time O. Henry was unknown and thought himself lucky to sell a +story at any price. + +THE END + + + + +End Project Gutenberg Etext of Rolling Stones, by O. 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