Casper Daily Tribune Newspaper, October 15, 1921, Page 6

ms Gxi-< Ty LAS es SZ oe ES — VA —— es ow 2 PD SVZSZ = ( — > ae YS 7 Ws | TE am" las eS eofh Kit i Ry pe THE BOY ORATOR of ZEPAT, HE Gay was cruelly hot, with un- warranted gusts of wind which swept the red dust in fierce ec- Gies in at one end of Main Street and out at the other, and waltzed fantastic- ally across the prairie When they had passed, human beings opened their eves again to blink hepelessly at the white sun, and swore or gasped, as their na- ture moved them. There were very few human beings in the streets, either in Houston Avenue, where there were @welling-houses, or in the bus‘ness quarter on Main Street. They wete all at the new court-house, and every one possessed of proper civic pride was/ either in the packed court-room itself, or standing on the high steps outside, or pacing the long, freshly kalsomined corridors, where there was sha¢e and t. It was an eventful day in ry of Zepata City, The court- house had@ been long In coming, the ap- propriation had been denied again and again; but at Inst it stood a proud and hideous fact, ike a gray prison, tower- ing above the bare, undecorated brick stores and the frame houses on the prairie around ft, new, raw, and cheap, from the tin statue on the dome to the stucco round its bese already cracking with the sun. Piles of lumber and scaffolding and the lime beds the butld- ers had left etill lay on the unsodde: square, and the bursts of wind drov. the shavings across it, as they had do since the first day of building, when the Hon. Horatio Macon, who had worked for the appropriation, had laid the cornerstone and received the hom- age of his constituents. It seemed a particularly happy and appropriate circumstance that the first business In the new court-room should be of itself of an important and mo- mentous nature, something thgt dealt not only with the present but with the past of Zepata, and that the trial of so celebrated an individual as Abe Barrow hould open the court-house with eclat, Emma Abbott, who had come all the way from San Antonio to do it, had opened the new opera-house the year before. The District Attorney had sald it would not take very long to dispose of Barrow’s case, but he had promised it would be an interesting if brief trial, and the court-room was filled even to the open windows, where men eat crowded together, with the perspira- tion running down their faces, and the red dust settling and turning white upon their shoulders. Abe Barrow, the prisoner, had been as closely associated with the early his- tory of Zepata as Colonel Macon him- self, and was as widely known; he had kDled in his day several of the Zeputa citizens, and two visiting brother- desperadoer, and the corner where his gambling-house had stood was still known 2s Barrow’s Corner, to the re- gret of the druggist who had opened a shop there. Ten years before, the mur- der of Deputy-Sheriff Welsh had led bir, to the penitentiary, and a month previous to the . pening of the new eourt-house he hd been, freed, and arrested 11 the prison gate to stand trial for the murder of Hubert Thomp- son, The fight with Thompson had been a fair firht—so those said who re- membered it—ard Thompson was a man they could well spare; but the case against Barrow had been prepared during his incarceration by the new and youthful District Attorney, “Judge” Henry Harvey, and as it offered a fit- ting sacrifice for the dedication of the new temple of justice, the people were satisfied and grateful, The court-room was as bare of orna- ment as the cell from which the pris- oner had just been taken. There was an imitation walnut clock at the back of the Judge's hair-cloth sofa, his re- volving chair, and his high desk. This was the only ornament. Below was the green table of the District Attorney, upon which rested his papers and law- books and his high hat. To one side sat the jury, rengoraee and prominent citizens, proud of having to serve on this the first day; and on the other the prisoner in his box. Around them gathered the citizens of Zepata tn close rows, crowded together on unpainted benches; tack of them more citizens standing and a few awed Mexicans; and around all the whitewashed walls. Colonel John Stogart, of Dallas, the prisoner’s attorney, procured obviously at great expense, no one knew by whom, and Barrow’s wife, a thin yel- low-faced woman i= a mean-fitting showy gown, sat among the local ce- lebrities at the District - Attorney's elbow. She was the only woman fn the room. Colonel Stogart's speech had been good. The citizens were glad tt had been so good; it hed kept up. the gen- eral tone of excellence, and it was well that the best lawyer of Dallas should be present on this occasion, and that he should have made what the citizens of Zepata were proud to believe was one of the efforts of his life. As they said, a court-house such as this one was not open for business every day. It was also proper that Judge Truax, who was & real Jodge, and not one by courtesy only, as was the young District Attoy- ney, should sit upon the bench. He also was associated with the early Gays and with the marvellous growth of Zapata City. Hoe had taught the young District Attorney much of what knew, and his long white hair silver-rimmed spectacles gave and the appearance of calm justice the bare room and to the heated of the rival orators, Colonel Stogart ceased speaking, and the District Attorney sucked in » and that an execution tn the jafl-yard would not follow as a fit- ting sequence, }in him lay he would at least send his |man back to the penitentiary for the | remainder of his life, was very dear to the people of that booming town. |one of the most promising young men in the whole great unwieldy State of Texas, and the boy orator thought they | were brobably right, but he was far too | clever to let them see it. He was clever |in his words and in his deeds and in jhis appearance, And he dressed much more carefully than any other man in winter and summer, and a fine high |hat, ‘That he was slight and short of | | stature was something he coul |help, and was his greatest, keen |gret, ‘and that Napoleon was also short |and slight did not serve to satisfy him lor to make his regret less continual. | What availed the sharply cut, smoothly shaven face and the eyes that flashed when he was moved, or the bell-like voloe, tf every unlettered ranchmen or |ranger could place both hands on his shoulders and look down at him from town, with a frock-cogt and « white tie| eights abo But they forgot this | 8nd he forgot tt before he had reached the peroration of his closing speech. ‘They saw only the Harry Harvey they knew and adored moving and rousing them with his voice, trembling with in- dignation when he wished to tremble, playing ell hig best tricks in his best manner, and cutting the air with sharp, lcruel words when he was pleased to be righteously just. The young District Attorney turned |slowly on his heels, and swept the | court-room cerelessly with a glance of the clever black eyes. The moment was his. He saw all the men he knew —the men who made his little world— crowding silently forward, forgetful of the heat, of the suffocating crush of | | those about them, of the wind that rat- | | ted the doors tn the corridors, and con | scious only of him, He saw his old} | ppeceptor watching keenly from the |bench, with @ steady glance of perfect | appreciation, such as that with which Jone actor tn the box compliments the | other on tho stage, He saw the rival attorney—the great lawyer from the §reat oity—nervously smiling, with a took of confidence that tol the lack of it; and he saw the face of the prisoner grim and set and hopelesaly defiant. The boy orator allowed his uplifted arm to fal) until the fingers pointed at the prisoner. “This mtn,” he said, and as he spoke even the wind in the corridors hushed for the moment, “is no part or parcel of Zepata City of today. He comes to us a relic of the past—a past that has brought honor to many, wealth to some, and which ts dear to all of us who love past that was ful} of hardships and glorious effets in the face of dally dis- appointments, embitterments, and re- buffs. But the part this man played in that past lives only in the rude court records of that day, in the traditions of the gambling-hell and the saloons, and on the head-stones of his He was one of the excrescences of that un- settled period, an unhappy evil—an in- evitable evil, I might almost say, as the Mexican horse-thieves and the prairie fires and the Indian outbreaks were in- evitable, as our fathers who built this beautiful city knew to their cost. The same chance that was given to them to make a home for themselves tn the wil- derness, to help others to make their homes, to assist the civilization and progress not only of this city, but of the whole Lone Star State, was given to him, and he refused it, and blocked the way of others, and kept back the march of progress, until today, civiliza- tion, which has waxed great and strong not on account of him, remember, but tn spite of htm--sweeps him out of {ts way, and crushes him and his fel- lows.” The young District Attorney allowed his arm to drop, and turned to the jury, leaning easily with his bent knuckles on the table, “Gentlemen,” he said, in his pleasant tones of every-day politeness, "the ‘bad man’ has become an unknown quantity in Zepata City and in the State of Texas, It les with you to see that he x By RICHARD HARDING DAVIS | remains so. He went out of existence with the blanket Indian and the buf- filo. He ts dead, and he must not be resurrected. He was a picturesque i manufactories and open banks; storekeepers who can undersell those the trigger. A foolish and morbid pub- city has cloaked men of this class with a notoriety which cheap and pernicious inate. They have bétn made romantic when they were brutal, brave when . | they were foolhardy, heroes when they | Young Harry Harvey, “The Boy Ora-| were only bullies and blackguards, This| honorable men, the gentlemen of thé tor of Zepata City,” as he was called|| man, Abe Barrow, the prisoner at the| jury? bar, belongs to that class. He enjoys their Maker” continued the District|/He 4id this quite “meets with the awful judg- higher court than this." Attorney, ment of a Colonel amiled scornfully at house instead of a vigilence committee. | And what {s big part in this new court- | But he was determined that so far as| literature has greatly helped to dissem-| louse, which today, for the first time, throws open its doors to protect the just and to punish the unjust? “Is be there tn the box among those Is he in that great crowd of intelligent, publ'c-spirited citisens who In thelr eyes he was/and has enjoyed a reputation as a ‘bad|make the bone and sinew of this our man, a desperate and brutal ruffian. fair city? Ig he on the honored bench Free him today, and you set a premium | dispensing justi#;, and making the in- on such reputations; acquit him of this| tricactes of the law straight? ‘o, wen- crime, and you encourage others to like|tlemen: he has no part in our triumph. evil. Let him go, and he will walk the|He is there, in the prisoners’ pen, streets with a swagger, and boast that/ outlaw, a convicted murderey, and was conscious R 4 it i iF “I don't know, Judge,” he said, hes!- in | tatingly, and staring stupidly at the mass of faces in the well beneath him, you were afraid to-touch him—afraid,| unconvicted assassin, the last of his|“that I have anything to eay—in my “And What I want to Ask of You, Sir, is to Let gentlemen—and children and women will point after him as the man who bas sent nine others into eternity, and who yet walks the streets a free man. And he will become, in the eyes of the young and the weak, a hero and a god. This is unfortunate, but it is true, “Now, gentlemen, we want to keep the streets of this city so safe that a woman can walk them at midnight without fear of insult, and a man can express his opinion on the corner with- out being shot in the back for doing 20." The District Attorney turned from the jury with a bow, and faced Judge ‘Truax. “For the last ten years, your honor, this man, Abner Barrow, has been sery- ing a term of imprisonment in the State penitentiary; I ask you to send him back there again for the remainder of his life. It will be the better place for him, and we will be happier in knowing we have done our duty in placing him there. Abe Barrow is out of date, He has missed step with the march of progress, and has been out of step for ten years, and it is best for all thet he shoul remain out of it tntil he, who has sent nine other men un- Prepared to meet their God—” “He is not on trial for the murder of nine men,” interrupted Colonel Stogart, @pringing from his chair, “but for the justifiable killing ot one, and I demand, your honor, that—* “—has sent nine other men to meet Feel race—the bullies away forever from the He has outlasted his superfiuity and an outrage on our of decency and order, And I ask gentlemen, to put him away will not hear the voice of man nor chil- dren's laughter, nor see a woman smile, where he will not even see the face of the warden who feeds Ror sun- i bitter past, with the lawlessness that has gone—that has gone, thank God— and which must not return. Place him in the cell where he belongs,’ and whence, had justice been done, he would never have been taken alive.” Tho District Attorney sat down sud- denly, with a quick nod tu the Judge and the jury, and fumbled over his pa- Pera with nervous fingers. was keenly conscious, and excited with the fervor of his own words. He heard the prsnincangyl hushed applause and the the bered this afterwards as one of the rewards of the moment. He turned the documents before him over and scrfb- bled words upon a of paper and read ® passage in an open law-book. She Had a Heart By. R. RAY BAKER. HROUGH the clouds of Frank Morrison's despair broke a shaft of sunlight in the form/of an idea, Frank was not the first person to have the same idea. He knew it was not original. He had heard of its being worked out successfully many times, but until now not once hed he thought of applying it in his own beh: ‘ Jane Ellison had tommed him down. After three years of pursuing her heart, with tactt consent luring him on, he was wrecked on the rocky shcres of the sea of unrequited love. But Frank could not give her up, ‘There was no other girl in the world like her. Black halr and deep brown eyes, perfect complexion of white, Jane —_ was more Itke a picture than a mere ‘woman. Frank could never care for anybody but @ brunette, he knew, or for any brunette but Jane. He was one himsel*, although there was color in his cheeks, while it was absent tn Jane's. Yes, he must marry Jane or life would not be worth living. ‘The dig idea was this: He would call on Jane's sister, Irene, who al- ways had appeared a good friend of hia, for assistance. If he could make her = party to @ plot he stood chances ef winning even ret. The plot would consist of his paying attention to Irene, thus arousing Jealonsy in Jano. “That's the whole trouble.” said Frank. “Jane thinks she hes me right where she wants me, and it's made her Jose interest.” So Frank called Irene on the tele- phone and arranged for a meeting. ‘Until the plot was fully concocted he Gia not wish to appear at the Ellison home, so he had Irene meet him on the river bank. “It isn't quite proper, I know,” he sald over the wire. “But we're good friends and I need your help—and I don't want Jane to know.” “I underctand.” Irene replied, “and Tl de right thore.” Irene met him on the river bank. She was seatxd on a rustic bench when he appeared. Nobody ever would have mistaken one of the sisters for the other, for Irene was as pronounced- ly & blonde as Jane was ao brunette; and she even had @ few freckles. Frank seated himself beside her and lost no time. “Jane has throw:: ms down,” he sali, “and I can't stand it. This world will be a sed mess for me unless I can patch \hings up.” “What caused the quarrel?” Irene in- quired, gazing at him with eyes thut were serious and yet contained a vestige of merriment. “There wasn't any; that's the troubia If we had had » scrap there would be = = ox = pa SL wees DSSS AS 2s s— SS ene Sy 4S SES Rare i SSS Ss z SA : some hopes of fixing it up, But Jane's just got tired of me, I guess. She said We could be friends, but nothing more, and a lot of thet bunk.” “Jane's my efter” Irene observed, “but I must admit she's @ pretty cold preposition. In fect, she hasn't @ heart. She isn't’ human. “I'm con- vinced; just a picture, that's all” Frank protested, é “Oh, no, you're wrong. I know her, and she has a-wonderful disposition.” “I've known her longer.” Irene de- clared, “an! I insist her heart is made of stone, Oh, I love her as a sister, but Tdé hate to be the man tn love with her.” “Don't talk that way.” Frank re- monstrated. ‘I think you're doing it just to get me off the track. Jane ts the only gir] in the -rorld for ma s just the type. Her hair and eyes are perfect, and the contrast formed by her complexion is wonderfully fas. cimating. Don't try to dissauda me, “Whet would you have me do?’ she aaked, Frank explained and Irene readily agreed to be'a conspirator, A visit to ——— SW OS — 2 theatre two nights later wag planned as the means of launching the cam- ‘Two Years Out of Jail to Show Her How I own behalf. I don't as it would They remained there for some short time, and then Barrow drew in his breath more quickly, and turned with some- thing like a show of confidence to the i ‘N that man said xf me ts true," he said, He gave a toss of his hands a 1PtRERAE efit yeiel At first the campaign seemed to bring no results whatever. Frank saw Jane when he called on Irene, but she evidenced no more emotion than if she never had met him in any closer relationsht!; Ip. Frank took Irene to dances, and be- fore Iong he could see thet Jane was becoming interested. She never spoke ‘about it, but on one occasion she flounced out ef #4@ room with a dark scowl on her countenance when ‘ho called te take her sister for a motor ride, “She's displaying anger,” he told Irene when they were skimm: over & country road. “That gives mie some hope.” “Don't de too hopeful,” Irene warned. “Remember, she hasn't a heart.” The warning was well founded, foz, although Jane assumed a haughty at+ titude that showed she was displeased by Frank's attentions to her sister, she Rever made eny ‘advances. Under the circumstances, if Jane still cared for Frank, it seemed that somo hint ihat he was welcome once more as a syttor would not have been out of place. Jane was now seen frequently with & man considerably older than herself mand the Domsseaser of a comfortable SS a ought to be dead. Now that's not “Yau, sir," he said, quietly, with a change from the tone of { j 7 . Fee H ; i ef : i ached, i ‘worse than I treated them. She nerar harmed me, nor got in my way, nor angered me. And now, when I want to do what I ean for her in the little time that's left, he tells you I'm a ‘relic of the past,’ that civilization’s too good for me, that you must bury me until for, something I've got to do, Don't | under- you believe me? Dont you stand?” He turned again towards the Judge, and beat the rail: before him impotently with his wasted hand. “Don’t send me back for life!” he cried. “Give me a few years to work for her—two gave up everything @ woman ought to have to come to me. She t she Besides that, she cared for me, and she was afraid every minute I was gol: to get killed. That's the way ial i it ; “And for what? again; to bring me things to eat jail, and picture papers and tobacco— when she was living on bacon and po- tatoes, and drinking alkali! water— her tread on the table in front of her, and bo had heard her sobbing. “And what I want to ask of you, sir, is to let me have two years out of jail to show her how I feel about ft. I.ask you not to send me back for life, sir, Give me just two years—two years of my life while I have some strength left to work for her as she worked for me. amount of worldly wealth. Frank was doing well bimseif as head of a hari- ware firm, but he could net consider himself on the highway to riches. For two months the plotters kept up their pretense, and there were no aigns of success in sight. Jane, in fact, soemed infatuated with her new knight. ' “Better give it.ap,” Irene told Prank one night as thoy sat on the rustic seat deside the fiver. “You're wasting your time.” “And yours,” maid Frank “It's a shame the way I've been taking all ee tima No other fellow has a look. “That's all right," she protested. “IT don't care about that.” “Let's try it m little longer, then.” he insisted, and she agreed. Two months more without progresa, and ones more the plotters held a non- sultation. Tt was a warm night and the river basked in dancing moonlight. “T have had news.” sald Irene, after they had sat in silence for some little time, staring out over the rippling water, “Jane {= engaged to Mr, Har- j low." Frank turned his head away. “Is that sot he said without emo- tion, “I mixht have exnected it» SS SS SE SS Wha SSS 7 mm SOSH Shu sun, which came through the high un- curtained windows opposite. Outside, the wind banged the shutters against the wall, and whistled up the street and round the tin corners of the Dullding, but inside, the room was very silent, The Mexicans at the door, who could not understand, looked curiously at the faces of the men around them, cumstances which were—haye arisen— this sentence is suspended. This court stands adjourned.” As he Gnished he sprang out of his chair impulsively, and with a quick authoritative nod to the young “Harry, boy,” he said, “do you think you could fo to Austin and repeat the speech that tan macs to the Governor?” The, boy cy tor laughed, and took one of th. old. aan’s hands in one of his and pressed it quickly, “I'd lke d-—d ‘well to try,” he said. “So there's no longer any use of con- Unuing this farce,” she went on. “You had better reconcile yourself to the in- evitable.” : Tt Jooks that way,” he acquiesced. “However, let's not stop now.” ~ “ “Why? she an “You can't posaibiy ail eve Speirs é @ good thing, I think; for really Jan: hasn't a heart” 4 “Tm convinced of that” Frank Sgreed.. He was silent for a few mo- mente, then‘said abruptly. “She hasn't a heart; but I know some ons who has, and I want it.” “Oh, then, you've found some one elge already?" “Yes, I have; ana I might as well make quick work of it and tell you it's you. Irene, I never really cared for Jane. It was her looks that I loved and nothing more. I thought I never could marry anybody but a brunette, but Fy: ese on a blonGe. You have ail jfane's good traits and none of her bad ones. Let's keep this—this pretense— up forever; only Iet’s not have ft a pretense any miore. Jill you?" “Frank,” she whispered, “I've cared about you @ long, long time, with all that heatt vou claim is Ike the out- cars.” ! Q Ee ea ‘< SS ie SS Ss ya => SS <> = > SSS zeN = F ee se