Evening Star Newspaper, January 9, 1921, Page 63

’ life. 1 #denly over the brow of the hill a flock | 3%, 5% 4 HE dusty automobile was jig- glingeover the prairie road and Red Jackson tugged at the wheel as though he were driv- ing a ‘team of restive bronchos. Sud- of sheep came into relief and Jackson slowed his engine to regard them with a Even as he looked two mounted figures appeared and rode toward us. One was a woman, the other a man. ‘Waving to us, they swept by and were lost in the distance. It was not a sheep country and sheep are mot herded on horseback. I turmed to Jackson. “Who was that?” “Him? Oh, that was Little Bo-Peep “\‘fi lv.he bemu." les bumped past, then, helrd tell o' Bam Sepuivida’ The question was beside the point and et N, “Ain’t you I assured him earnestly. ‘s all ancient history. But if ain't heard tell—Sam was a young used to live over that way——" he pointed toward the west. ‘“Lived with his ma, Mis’ Sepulvida.” “Spanish?”’ 1 iuguired, but he shook ne, h'«"u’y Jugtul, sh 't Irish o a , she weren' s and red-neaded, with everything that goes with it, you bet. But Sam’s pa— he was Spanish, if you like, and yellow- haired. ~Say—the Spanish aren’t any great shakes at work, but when they come fair-haired labor just naturally takes a good look and runs past 'em without speakin'! Pedro Sepulvida was that kind, but he hadn’t been married long when that little red-headed Irish Jane scared him into diggin’ right in an’ First thing you knew, he had ght smart bunch o' cattle. “That's all there is to tell about Sam's ma an’ pa. 1 culy dope it so You'd get this here heredity thing straight. 1 reckon it'll explain a sight o' things in Sam you couldn’t a’ under- stood otherwise. Sam gro up| ‘round the place, and when he'd got- ten as big as helf an hour you could §see he was like a plece o’ bacon. First a streak o' lean, au’ then a streak fat. He had big brown languishin’ you ller excitin® I'll let you come an’ meet d." ‘LSQ he follows her back to the tent nd puts the lamb in a sort o’ corral = lot of others an’ she lifts the with flap o' the tent and lets him go in- bare an’ neat, but it's got ttie fixings like a girl al- wi gs_onto, and over to one side, on a cot, is her brother. It don't take Sam long to see that Bud ain’t for this world. But the gir] don’t seem to know it. She put: her hand against his face and says: * k% * ¢ ¢x7OU'RE lookin’ lots better, dear. And I hope_ you hada good sleep.’ He tries to smile back with his lips, which is dry and kind of twisted, and says, ‘A fine sleep, Sis, an’ I feel grand.’ ‘I brought one of our neighbors t’ see you,’ she says. ‘This is Mister— Mister——' “‘Sepulvida, says Sam, comin’ for- ward, ‘S8am Sepulvida, an’ glad t meet you. ‘I'm Alice North,' she tells him. ‘An’ my brother here's named Richard, but nobody calls him anything but Just ‘Bud.’ Mr. Sam’s been helpin’ me,’ she goes on to explain to her brother. “He's been real k'nd an’ helpful, just like Mr. Beith said everybody'd be. I'll be able to handle things all right until you're up and around again.’ “The poor chap looks up and smiles at Bam and in a minute Sam sees that he ain’t under any delusions about h.lzl!elf. but he only says, ‘Sure, Miss Alice, we'll help you out until your brother's around again, and that won't be long—this air up here’ll fix him up fine’ Bud looks Teal grateful an’ Sam sees a sort o' wink in his eye that tells him he appreciates the l'e. So he goes out and splits some wood and puts up a sort of screen of oak boughs on the north side o' the tent to shield it from the wind, an’ shows the girl how to make a water cooler out of an old canvas bucket. And she pats his horse and makes a lot over it, like women will. “It isn't until he’s goin’ home that I l countin’ the ones that was allowed to hold th’ book o directions and read out loud how it was done. Sam wasn’t in it, because Alice’'d picked him t' sit by Bud and watch him, Bud havin’ reached th' stage where he needed some one most th’ time. “There wasn't a bit o' doubt that he was gettin' worse instead o' bet- ter, but Alice claimed that now he was better he needed some one to amuse him, so she most generally kept some one beside him, and most ways it was Sam, Bud havin' taken @ real likin' to him and his guitar. “The day of the dippin’ Sam was singin’ to him real soft thinkin’ he was most asleep, but just as he got through a little Spanish song all about mantillas and gipsies and dancin’ the bolero, Bud opened his lady, I means that same—do you get me?” he says. “Mis’ Bascomb looks up at him with her face set hard like a mask. “ ‘I ain't lookin’ for any more board- ers', she says. and he gets red. He s real quiet: ‘As long as she’s here this is goin’ to be a real respectable town, and you're goin' t' match it. You're run- ning a real boardin’ house, he tells her, ‘and th’ girls are goin’ to be real respectable young ladies engaged in waitin’ on table, and such like occu- pations. An’ if T hear any goin's on that ain’t right for innocent ears’— he leans forward and looks at her real hard — “why —I'll tell what I know about you back East!' he say: “At that she gets kind o' white be- hind that mask o' hers. In th' end eyes and real square shoulders even|night, feelin’ in h: When he was a little chap, an' on top! to make sure that” something ne vt o' his head there was a great flaming| in it is still there, that he remembers thatch o' hair like his ma's. Inside I| he went into Purissima Flats to ex. reckon he was just like he was out-| terminate snoozers. But he don't play ‘Cause he was real gentle most|jong with the thought. Just reaches times, hatin’ to hurt a fly, but he had| into his pocket and hauls out a little & temper like a little red-headed devil.| white handkerchief that Alice'd tied “By that time his pa had died, quite wore out by his unusual exertions, but Mis’ Sepulvida was still goin’ strong. Had a real head for business, too. When he was twenty or thereabouts, she up an’ died, an’ after that he ran the joint hisself. ‘And just then the sheep men begun to come into the country and Billy Hades was raised for fair. They was pushin’ down from the north, an’ first thing you know the place was overrun with the vermint. Overnight they be- gun fiillin’ the free pastures like white rats. The boys got together in Gulch City and formed a committee to argue with the snoozers. and made Sam chafrman, which was a compliment to him as a man and a gunman—than which_there was no better in Guich City. When they give him the post he stands up, his face all tan and kind of grim, his_hair standin’ up reddern th’ eternal fire you read about in the Bible, and he says, sort o’ grim-like: 5 ys, I want you t' know I'm aimin’ t' clean this part o' the state of every kind o' vermint an’ that means sheep an’ snoosers.’ Then he in a cloud o’ dust. “Those was days! “The head o’ the snoosers was over, in Purissima Flats, the best grazing ground round these parts. Fellow named Beith, sort ¢’ ex-gunman. “He made a special dead set at Sam, an’ it wasn’t till he d been licked to a stand still that he left, takin’ his shee, ‘with him, an’ issuin’ warnin’ that he'd get even somehow. Most o' the other snoosers cleared out before him, an’ Sam was left cock i “I guess I mentioned before that he weren't hard to louk, at, an’ his doin’s had sort o' put him in the limelight. First thing you know all the girls be- gun_to sit up and take notice. And right there I began to be plumb wor- ried, because there weren’t any what you'd rightly call ladies in the place. “Just then comes news that there's | 42 new snooser situated in Purissima - $ first thing you know, Sam_told the boys assembled Flats. har just what he's round Jeft Peter's goin’ t* do t* that expurgated snoozer an’ his unexpurgated sheep, flllin’ in ‘with Spanish where his English swear. words won't quite reach. Then he starts off up the trafl sixty ways to a Sunday, loosenin’ his holster as he goes. * % % ¥ “'WELL it weren't for two weeks that I see him again, and then only for a minute. 8o if I tell you, what happened you mustn't think I knowed it then. It wasn’t for a long time that he loosens up. It seems that he goes along estin’ up the miles and cussin’ the worthlessness of snoozers in general, an’ this one in particular, until he reaches the ubmi ous. it wi part o’ the Flats. Sure enough, right spang in the center o' the map is a Jot o’ woolly white caterpillar effec engaged In eatin’ up all the grazin. He looks ‘round an’ can’t see any one in charge, but over to the west is a tent which he makes for, totin’ his gun on his hip. Then, just as h comin’ over a little rise, where there’ a scrub oak or so he hears some one callin® him. He looks up and there, above him, is a girl, I saw her later myself and I'm here to state she was some girl, all kind o’ white an’ soft- like, with real yellow hair and blue You know, the kind that gets hundred a week in movin’ pic: for bein' too sweet an’ innocent to face the cruel, d. “Well, Sam'd never seen her like, bein’ used to the black-and-tan va. riety that grew ‘round these parts, or the kind o™ blonde that comes out o' a bottle, but the girl doesn’t seem to mind his n’. She's carryin’ a lamb and it's kickin’ like Billy-be- damned, and she just looks at him real |y pleadin’ and calls out: : “Oh, mfster! ’.lhnA 4 'v‘:"_oa t bzfu‘ help me?” n’, o' n' Pian” born o' , ther's just one and Iu'd:rl l:. Fl:: minutes later she’s got him lasso and tied to her saddle. He's a-carry- in’ th’ lamb, an’ I dunno which one is the meeker o' the two. But finally he gets up spunk enough to ask whose ;h.tp those is, and she says réal proud ik ““They're mine. Ain't they beau- ties” - ‘here he stands with his mouth silly lamb a-hangin’ in If ther's a man in it, he can argue proper. “*“Where 1s your brother? he ask nd eshe waves a hand toward the tent. “He's there,’ she says, ‘but if you talk to him you've got to be real quiet, be- cause he's pretty sick, Bud is.’ = k!’ he says again, llke an . And her eyes fills with tears. “Yes, she tells him. ‘He took sicl Jast winter with a cold and he couldn’t seem to quit coughin’, and’ the doctor says he'd have to come out here. We didn’t have an awful lot o' money saved up, an’ I was lookin’ for some- thin’ Bud could do. 8o when we got to San Francisco we met a man, a nice man, he was, named Beith. Vhat name'd you say, miss? he ‘Beith,” she tells him. ‘An he he told me he'd got a lot o' sheep he'd sell us cheap and he told me how much money you c'd make on 'em an’ all about the free range over here, an’ ¥ are to sheep-folks. So we bought hi ©" our money and now we're her y anythin’, just stands e tongue-tied, while she goes on. ‘When we landed here Buddy got ‘worse an’ he can’t do an awful lot t' help, so I kind of tend to things myself, but’ she goes on bravely. he's goin’ to get better soon. and we'll the sheep King and sheep Princess.’ She laughs real cute and silvery and then looks up at S8am where he's standin’ with the lamb in his arms and says, 'You can be the Lord Chamberlain if you want to. “Sam_stands there llke a dunder- head. Finally she says as though she was askin’ him to meet some member ©of royalty. #7t you're real quiet an’ don't talk |all covered with dust, an’ he sits out p | when he was riding down the Primo 2 |to_the Fiats. sheep with the last round a place he cut in his hand, an’ ln?'kl At it with an idiotic grin. ‘An’ right there—at that moment SometHing happens to him. Oncé I was shut up in a cabin, snowed in, an’ not havin’ anythin' better t' do I reads a_ article by one of these scient fic Johnni. on heredity. He says that nobody is theirselves. They might think- the; but they ain’ They're made up o' Tittls sob lots a sample bits o' all their ancestor: ‘Well, with Sam it was that same All these years be'd been his ma’s boy, smart, quick and hard as nails, but meetin’ up with that Alice Girl had done somethin’ to him, an’ & whole new side o' him rose th® top an’ that side was his pa all over. When he gets home he takes a guit: Off a shelf where it had been lyin' under the roses by the side of the house and sings all th songs he'd learned from old Pedro Sepulvida. An’ every mornin’ 's soon as he'd set- tled things at th’ ranch he starts off up th’ trail t’ th’ Flats. “Now nobody in town knew any- thin’ about what h’d happened, 'cause When Sam rode off swearin he'd run th’ snoozers off the map it was as 80ood as done. But one day Jud Townsend comes in to town an’ says Pass he looked across the Flats an’ th' sheep was still there. That cou- pled with the fact that nobody’'d seen nor heard o' Sam for most two week: looked kind o' que: 80 some o' the boys that was in Jeff Peter's saloon "lowed they'd go look jinto it their- selves. They starts out up the trall “When they gets there they leav their horses and starts real quiet-1ik for the tent, figurin’ to catch - th' snoogers unawares, but when they gets half way there they stops be- cause they comes around a lttle oak- covered hill and on the other side they sees a moving picture an’ that Ppicture is S8am, standin’ in the middle of a dozen lambs, holdin’ one of ‘em in his arms while a girl with yellow hair is feedin’ it somethin' out of a spoon. She's got ‘a book on lamb- in® or somethin’ an’ she’s holdin’ it in one hand an’ reading instruc- tions while he's followin' too, with his head real close to hers. * % % % BUD PETERS is the first to see it an’ he calls the others and they stands there, starin’ at the scene an’ swearin’ somethin’ scandal- An’ if they was mad at Sam asn’t because he hadn't run the snoozers out, you bet. Alice Is standin’ so the sun shines kind o £01d On her hair, and she's got on a little green ridin’ suit, an’ she's stuck a bit o' blue lupin in her belt that sort o' reflects the blue o' her eyes, and takin’ it all an’ all, she ain’t the rlnd ©' person nobody’d run ‘out o' own. “« eyes and looks at him like he wants to say somethin’, Sam puts down h[!.. instrument an’ goes over beside t v bed. . ‘Look here——' says Bud. ‘I want you a bit about sis.’ an’ he goes on n't gol: last long.’ says. ‘An’ after I go I don’t know what's goin’ to become h haven't a relative in the world, and we cut our ties to come out She can’t go on living—alone. says Sam, softly. -l “‘Got any suggestions? lookin® at him real meaninsly. Sets_red. “7 dunno as T have. he say less she’d be willin' ¢ mov my house as Mis’ Sepulvid. "Bud Eives a sigh of rellef. +«¢ just wanted t' make sure it was ail right, so 1 could die easy.’ en Alice comes in even she can see that he's pretty far gone, but she | don’t lose her head none, just stands | there with her cheeks flushed and says she guesses they'd better send for a doctor. _ “Now, the nearest doctor, barrin’ a veterinary, was sixty miles off, but Jud and Peters offers to ride over t' get him, and Sam strides out o the tent. “It t get cold and beginnin’ It comes over quite a wind. dden that it isn't “Jud Townsend is the first to get | p! his breath. Jud always was a la- dies’ man. He gets down the hill first o’ any o' ‘em. “‘Low, Sam” he says, real sweet, ‘an’ how is little Bo-Peep? Won't you introduce me to the little lamb- kins? “Sam turns ‘round real sudden and he don't look half pleased, but Alice, she smiles up at them pleasant and sweet. “‘Oh!" she say: ‘How do you do! uppose you're some more of my bors.” '‘An’ do any of you know anythin’ about sheep?” “Now if & man had ast 'em that, bein’ dyed-in-the-wool cattle men, they'd have hit him, but those great ganglin’ mutts only smile, and each an’ every one o' them tries to make her think he invented sheep.” r. Sepulvida’s been awfully help- ful’ she tells "em. ‘But he don’t seem to know an awful lot about ‘em,’ she says. ‘Although he’s learnih’. He's studyin’' nights, an’ I think in time he’ll’ make an’ awful good sheep herder.’ “Nobody pays any attention to Sam, ibein’ all too busy tryin’ to get in strong with the little lady. And pretty soon she takes "em over to th’ tent and feeds ‘em tea, which they endeavors to swallow. lookin’ |though they liked it, an’ introduce: *em to Bud who smiles at 'em all and listens to their talk about the health- ful quality o' the air like he be- lieved it. “But that Allce girl just glows with Kk |it all and every time some one tells her about how Bud will be up and around by Christmas she smiles a million dollars’ worth on him. In the end she shoos ‘em all off. tellin’ ‘em it's time for Bud to take his nap and they all rides away toward Gulch City. “Just as they reaches the cross trail Sam pulled up his horse. Iy real venomous like, ‘I got just one word to say. If any o you fellows says one word to that girl about Snoozers or about not carin’ for mutton in this locality—or 80 much as whispers that folks don't always get well o' the T. B— he sits there rin' an’ Jud says, |growlin® in nhis throat. “+Aw, shut up!” he says, ‘we don’t need apy bloomin’ Little Bo-Peep to teach us manners’ and they all pride that you couldn’t ride s on. “Well, after a mile on the Purissima trail ‘thout rupnin’_across -:ma ?l-md Romeo -gallopin’ up there to carry some I‘llfl-e oi‘;erln‘ 1 th' North family, and wearin’ the hoofs off his horse on th' trail to th' flats, hopin’ t’ e th’ honor o' chasin’ a bunch sheep ‘round th' pastuyre an’ watch 'em eat all the grazin'.” There wasn'C hardly one o' those muttons but was fair brushed and combed and had its face washed by hand. And when it come to dippin’ time there was about three personal valets to evesy sheep, not ' Wh there wor't be no town, he ‘Give me half an hour, And with that ‘We got t' get h Sam. but Jud shakes his hea “What you goin’ t' do girl” he asks. ‘Gulch City ain’t no place for her! “And then there silence, all of 'em knowin’ it was so. Because Gulch City, however it might be for men, was no place for a lady, consistin’ as it dld o’ four saloons, a dance hall, a restaurant that served drinks, an’ Mis’ Bascom! . They weren’t any too particular, but some- how the thought o’ that Alice girl knowing about it all didn’t make a hit with 'em. ‘And then suddenly Sam speaks up, and his chin is set as hard as cement. “It's goin’ t’ be a place for her or e d. with the was an awful rides off down the trail. T was down at the Peters bar when he comes gallopin’ into town, and at that moment there wasn’t an ounce o" his pa in him. Jeff goes out t' talk ‘with him ‘and he looks him over and speaks, usin’ his words as hard e pieces o' granite. = “‘Jeft,’ he Says, ‘I want you to take down your sign out here and put it in your back room pronto, and if any o' the boys get inclined t' take a drop too much I want that you should hit ‘em on the head. If I see any one on the streets that ain’t exactly in their right mind I'm goink t’ hold you responsible—d'ye get me? An' with- out waitin’ for an answer he rides down th’' street t' the next ginhouse an’ makes th' same_little speech to O\d Man Morzan. No explanations, ne, y'understand, just a plain statement, | but there was somethin’ in his eye that kept ‘em from askin’ questions, an’ inside of five minutes Jeff and Morgan an’ Bob Wells was a-takin’ in their signs, while down the street Sam layin’ down th' law at the Crystal Palace dance-hall. 1 heard him tell ‘e that while they might dance Saturdav evenin's until 10 o'clock, providin’ always they did it |th in a ladylike an’ geritlemanly man- ner. after 10 he dldn’t want to hear a chirp out of ’em an’ no questions asked . “Then he turned round to ackle Mis Bascomh’s boardin’ house. Now Mis’ Bascomb was a kind of character. She was a great big fat woman with a face llke a chunk o’ cement. No- body's ever got the better o' her vet. She's got the only real house in Gulch City. which same was most eeneraily 1it up from garret to'cellar with vari- ons kinds of drink and games o chance goin’ on inside, not to speak o' the girls that stayed with her. *“Well, when Bam gets to her door he doesn’t get down; just stands there yelling til she hears him and comes out on the Behind her a_lot of the girls stands lauchin’ [ ggdr;nu them 1lke a judge from nch. “Mis' Bascomb,’ he says, ‘in half an hour the boys is bringin’ a sick man to your houss to board, an’ with is a'young lady. An' when I sayp am th* she bows her head kind o’ meek like, ' says: ght, Sam. Bring ‘em in. him. he done in the East? I can’t help askin' real curiou: “‘How sh'd I know? he says im- cve it or not, bv the h' boys gets here with the girl an' Bud swung on a sort o' litter be. ween two horses, you wouldn’t ‘a’ iknown that town! What with the bars all closed as to the front e: trances an’ the grocery store havin' the bottles out o' the front window an’ canned goods substituted, an’ th’ eatin’ house changin’ its bottles of whisky for a not o geraninm, an’ all the visible inhabitants slicked up t' beat th' cars, an’ Mis' Verbina Win- terbottom, dressed up in her best red ecalico _that she'd sent all, the way to San Francisco for, actin’ as a com- | mittee of welcome along with Mis’ Stillson as was & Ruiz, an’ therefore some brunette—well, boys would fall in a faint. But they bore up bravely until they seen that Sam was headin’ for Mis’ Bascomb's, ) They then looked like they was goin’ | to stampede for sure. i * %k x ¥ uBuT when they got there th’ dobr I w! opened by Mis' Bascomb with black spots, quite different from the red dressing gown she usually wore at that time o' day. An’ be- hind her was two o’ the girls dressed real neat and proper. Mis' Bascomb didn’t say much, but she led them into room on th’ ground floor that was real nice an’ airy, where she’s out all the tables and chairs. Bud looks at her with a little sickly smile an’ thanks her with his eyes. an’ the Alice Girl puts her hand in hers and kind of chokes up when she tries to talk. But Mis' Bascomb takes away her hand and spends her time In chasin’ everybody out of th' room an’ orderth\' them to be quiet on th reet. “The next mornin’ th’ doctor come, the boys havine picked him up on tha road nearer than they had expected. He takes a look at Bud end shakes his head. “‘Two weeks,’' he say: ‘Maybe a month. Just make him as.comfort- 2ble 25 you can.’ But he don't eav it to Alice, you bet. Alice thanks him 80 sweetly that he won't take a cent from her and rides nver onc o~ twice jthe next week to Jook at Bud. i “In the meantime Alice an’ Mi {comb takes turns nursin’ him. and th’ Rirls hangs ‘round th’ door. trying to be helpful. There wasn't one o' those girls that wasn’'t pleased as punch when Alice asked 'em to make a bit An’ when Bud'd thank 'em 80 kind thev'd et all pink and blush ltke they hadn’t done for ten years. An’ outside th' housa the town went on like it was attendin’ a Bihle convention. ut most o’ ‘em staved and hung .around th’ eatin’ house walitin’ for the 1cool o' th’ evenin’ when that Alice Girl would come out for a little stroll. “It was the only time that she could 1he got out o' Bud’s room, and she used ‘lo ipend it in walkin’ ‘round th’ town explorin’. ‘Quaint,’ she called it, an’ acted as though she loved it, which struck ’em all funny. knowin’ she’q seen real zrand cities in th* . She was a little worried about th’ stores all bein’ closed up, but S8am explained to her that it was th’ slack time o’ year and that the owners was all in San Francisco, or some such 1 and she took it all in just like what they sald about Bud’s lookin’' 80 muc better, or what a fine woman Mi Bascomb was. “Yep. I reckon if it had depended on nursin’ Bud'd 'a’ got well here was a long pause and the {nhnchln; :’:w;dl'm llfl:‘ to side of & roa sta; straight ahead. id he dle?” T anked: " ep,” he nodded. “Died real sud- den in th’ night, with Alice holdin’ his th an’ Mis' Bascomb sittin’ be- ide him while Sam stood by the door 1tke he 4ia all night, in case he was needed sudden. “Alice gives a little ecry and he comes In and sees that everything is over and stands there like a statue not knowin’ how to break it to her, 'but suddenly he Nees that she knows. /But instead o’ screamin’ or zoln’ into o' gruel. for bei | 1 thonght, th'' herself, an’ she was in white drenn. THE SUNDAY STAR, JANUARY 9, 1921—PART 4% “A TWO-FISTED BO-PEEP By Florence Ryerson 4 faint, she just begins to sob soft- like an’ then Mis' Bascomb's face quits lookin’ like granite an' sort o wrinkles up an’ two big tears begin rollin’ down her cheeks an’ in a min- ute that Alice Girl is cryin’ with her head on Mis' Bascomb's shoulder. “Next day they has the funeral and Alice goes to it leanin’ on Mis' Bas- comb’s arm while the girls bring up the rear sniffing into their pocket handkerchiefs, an’ Mis' Winterbottom an’ Mis' Stillson stands round sniffin’ an‘ sayin’ it had ought to be put a stop to. She goes home with Mis Bascomb and the girls stand guard at the door an’ won't let any one in to disturb the poor dear. “But the next night Sam spends most two hours at my house gettin® shaved and slicked up and I gathers DED ON HORSEBACK— ! !she is about to recelve company. {From what he says I figures that h |goin’ over to protect her young i |to Bua. | But he comes back an hour later, his jaw set an’ that red hair o his standin’ on end. ‘Did she say “yes"? I asks, and he looks at me, grim-like. “‘She did not” he says. ‘She’s got- ten 8o fond o' Mis’ Bascomb that she won't leave. Says she reckons she ll' stay and help run th’ boardin’ house. For a time we sets there, starin’ out into the dark an’ smokin’, then he fetches a groan. ‘An’ t' think I got her into it he says. ‘An’ her 8o young an' innocent that I couldn’t even make her understand why she hadn’t ought t' stay there. His cheeks get kind o' pink. 1 made a very good job o explainin’, he says, embarrassed. ‘But she says s| goin’ t' y.” 4 ‘An’ how about bein’ Mis’ Sepul- vida? Fasks real careless. He shakes his head. 3 didn’t get a chance t' ask her, he admits. ‘There bein’ some twenty others there ail aimin’ t' ask her th same thing.’ out th’ door and grabs his horse for a hurry-up trip to his ranch which he's been neglectin’ somethin’ scan- dalous. “An’ sure enough, as he says, Alice stays on at Mis' Bascomb’s, an’ about two days later a sign goes up over the door sayin’: ‘Elite Restaurant, that same bein’ an imported word for ! eatin’ house. And when the boys be- :gan crowdin’ in to investigate they found the part of the house that used to be given over to drinkin' an card games had been fixed up real nice with gray paint and blue curtains, and the tablss had been put ther and the girls all in sassy blue aprons was waitin’ to serve ‘em. And right there they found out somethin’, that same bein’ that Mis' Bascomb could cook. None o' your fancy fixin's, but an’ biscuits an’ ham an’ eggs an' DI like mother used to make. With Allc_e at th’ door t' take th’ money it wasn't long before th' Gulch City Eating House went plumb out o' business. an’ Mis' Bascomb had a line waitin’ out- side o' her house most any night o the week t' get a chance at her cookin’. “NO * kK K W, 1 ain’t sayin’ that Gulch City was any earthly paradise, be cause there's a certain amount o' natural sin in everybody an' it's bound t' break out some time. But I'm hers to state that two of them saloons mever found occasion to open up again, an’ Bud Peters only kept his on by caterin’ ' th' Mexican trade. ! That was partly Alice, o' course, but | partly because Mis' Bascomb seen fit | ito put a sort o' board xhack up mext | door t th’ Elite an’ buy one o' these | | here_motion picture machines. which iran films every evenin’. an’ in those ! days the films was worth lookin® at, let. me tell you, bein’ as full o’ mur- | ders an’ sudden death as a barrel is o {beer.. Out in front o' the show "Ehe | {had a place to sell candy and soda- | pop that took in most as much as th’ eatin’ hause, cspecially when Alice bebind the glass cas- and sells ~ P an’ tickets to th’ show. “Twasn't because any one'd re- formedi! Yunderstand, but just be- | cause somehow there seemed t' be i lots mote interestin’ things doin’ than just gattin’ jazzed up on whisky. O course, ‘nobody c'd see into Mis' Bas- comb'symind, but I reckon she was makin’,imore at th’ eatin’ house-. theatepiproposition than she had in the oldidays, an’ she looked right con- tent. &Ad the girls kind o’ took to it, especiglly after two of 'em got mar- ried tgicowpunchers from up Dog Town i { s never gets reconciled. me he comes to town, which often, and sees Alice a-sit- e cashier's stand with her baby-bjite eyes and her innocent kind o' look, e just stands and glares an’ | then comes over to my house to kick |the furniture and swear somethin’ lawful.. He'd asked her to become Mis' Sepulvida by then; explainin’ when he done so that he wanted to proteet and cherish her for life, an’ she'd turned him down, kind o’ gen- {tle and regrettul, but very firm. Never give any reason, just stated 20 that that such was not her pla “When he was ridin’ away I tackles noccnce and make good his promise | he ‘hadn’t any manner o' hold on her {any more than any o’ the other moon- ‘StampsShould Show What's Inside Letter,” Says Ring R. WARREN G. HARDING, Marion, Ohfo, Dear W. G.: About 2 wks. ago I wrote you a letter applying for the position as secy. of state in your cab- inet and haven't recd. no reply to same but from what I been reading in the papers it looks like you had made it up in your mind to glve this position to either Chas. Hughes or !Elf H. Root. Well, W. G., I haven't inothing to say vs. neither one of these men and believe they would both make you a good man as Eli has held the position before wile !Chas. mind should ought to travel i right along withy yoursfasinelwas president himself a whole night. Speaking about Chas. he reminds me something like a busher on ibaseball club. Washington drafted him from the N. tate League and Illl he done was set on the bench till the Senators needed a run and {he run for Sweeney and got called jout on a close decision and in the jmean wile they had signed up an- other bencn warmer and it was back the bushes for Chas. and when I ) i H | But laying all jokes to 1 side, what I am getting at its that 1 wanted a portfolio in your cabinet though I have all ready got a portfolio that I use it to bring my play manu- Iscripts back home in, but no joke- (ing Gamaliel, wile I said 1 would preter secy. of state, why if you have got a man in mind for that position, why I would just as leaf take one of the other places like for inst. post master gen. % Now 1 know that some of my ene- mys will probably tell you that I am not eligible for this portfolio as 1 once served on a turn as substitute mail carrier in Niles, Mich., and know something about how the mail serv- tice should be ran, but between you and I, Gam, I don't recall nothing about the ins and outs of the busi ness and as far as technical know! edge is conserned I would enter the new birth with that blank mind so nessary to a cabinet member. But I have got some idears in re- @ards to the improvement of the P. O. dept, and while ‘I think the present incumbrants has made a start, in the right direction, still I don’t feel like he has grasped all the possibilitys. Like for ins it an- other war come up in France and our boys was sent over there and their wives and mothers mailed xmas Presents to them, why instead of dumping all these packages on a ship bound for Honolulu I would open them up at Hokoben and have a rum- age sale and send a certain per cent of the receipts back to the wifes and mothers to keep them going till the war dept. got around to sending them part of their last April's allotment. But the thing I would get after is our stamp system which it looks to me like it was one of the silliest things connected with the govt. As soon as you promised me the port- folio I would go right to work and get up some stamps with some sense to the Like for inst. instead of a picture of a boy riding a bicycle on the special delivery stami 1 would have a picture of the Shamrock 3 or a flivver with a wheel off. It is my idear that the stamps that is used the most oftenest like the 1 and 2 cent stamps should ought to have & picture on them that will give the person to who the letter is ad- dr d some sort of a hint as to what the letter is about, so as if they are not interested they don’t half to open the letter. Of course if you grite ,to somebody to inform them b of the demice of some relative or friend its O. K. to use one of the present stamps with Washington's picture or spme other party that's dead. * % kx X But the most of the stamps would half to be brand new, with photos on them to fit all the different kinds of letters. For inst. 1 would fix it so jthat when you wrote a letter that you thought was comical you could buy a stamp with Charley Chaplin’; picture. ‘When you sent a person the month- ly statement of what they owed you, the stamp for it would have a pic- ture of some famous man named Bill, like Bryan or Hart or Sunday or the kaiser. If you wrote a letter enclosing some money the stamp would be a picture of some notorious Jack, say Demp- sey or Pershing or Barrymore or Jirs husband. A invitation to a party would be stamped with a picture of the Haig boys or Mr. Volstead, according to the party. The regrets would carry a photo of Ludendorf or a group picture of the Yale football squad. A invitation to a wedding would have on it a design of a minister holding a'$20 tip In his mitt. Also I would make it compulsory for people that wrote and asked you to dinner to buy one or two styles of stamps, either with a picture of a man in a dress suit or a picture of a man in his own clothes, then they wouldn’t be no argument about what you was suppose to wear. Love letters would be stamped with a photo of 2 movie actress, according to how much you dast say in them. After T had the dept. a wile and they was a big surplus on hand 1 would go a step further than the above and introduce a stamp system which I have always thought it would be ideal, namely to have évery letter stamped with the picture of the party who the letter was for and also a picture of the party that wrote it In this way you wouldn’t half to open practically none of your mail. And suppose you met the mail man on the st. and he recognized you from your picture, why he could say: Wait a mi I have got a letter for you and save the trouble of going to your hous As for the picture of the sender, I would have it made a criminal offence for say a concern like 11, the gas Co. to get ‘you to read their mail by stamping it with a picture of another movie actress. In the case I found it impossible to carry out my idears in regar¢ to stamps for a wile, I would put in effect a temporary scheme that would be a trouble saver, namely, I would ave the clerks inghe P. O. open up all your mail andif they thqught they was anything in it you might like to know they could call you up or walt till you dropped in the P. O. some time and tell you about it. 1 would also abolish the dead letter office though they tell me it never. done such a big business as lately, | but I can’t.see no reason for haveing it. My idear is that if the person {who a letter is addressed to can't Dbe located, why, send it to some poor family that don't get many letters. I wished you would give me a whirl at this portfolio, W. G.., as the more I think of it I like it even better than secy. of state because stepping into some men's shoes is like following Nora Bayes on a vaudeville bili, but this will be like going on after Geo. Devine the juggler, but any way if I don’t hear from you one way or the other in a few-days 1 will think they must be something wrong with the postal service. T Long’s Island, January 1.” 1 ‘Not that g Sayin’ which he tramps | j struck punchers that rode in from the ranches and tried to get her roped an' branded with their mark. ‘And then that Beith fellow horned into the game again. I reckon he figured that the sheep racket would be forgotten, or perhaps he had some reason o' his own for rememberin’ Gulch City was on the map. 'Tany rate he shows up one night on horseback as bright as & new penny. When he hits the end o' town he looks around kind o' surprised like and rides up the street, lookin' to left an’ right. “‘Where's Donovan’s bar an’ Ridge House? he asks. ““Closed,’ some one tells him. his eye catches a sign. “‘Candy an’ soft drink: ile wide. ‘What's the matter with the town —got religion?” he asks, and when nobody answers he rides over to Mis’ Bascomb's, which is deserted, it bein’ the middle o’ th’' afternoon. He walks up the steps, readin’ the sign real careful, and inside he finds Alice countin’ over some money. He ps like he been shot. ‘Hello” he says. t it ain’t Miss North!” She turns an' sees him, an’ gets kind o’ white, but a minute later she's shakin’ his hand an’ sayin’ ‘How do you do?" ‘How's the sheep? he asks and she laughi “‘Fine,’ she tells him. Tve got 3 Mexican takin’ care o' them an’ they showed up fine at the last shearin’. “They let you run 'em on Puris- sima? he says, real curious. *‘Yes' she tells him. ‘It was just like you said. Everybody’s been real nice an’ friendly.’ As she says that she gathers up the money on the table before §er and begins droppin’ it into a bag. It's the month's earnin's an’ she was fixin’ it t' send t' Mis' Bascomb's bank. It was most a thousand dollars an’ Beith's eyes kind o' fell on it caressingly. Then he looks ‘roun’ th’ place. “‘Mis' Bascomb still run th' joint? he inquired and she says, ‘Yes.' “At that he leans over and puts out his hand. “‘Put it there,’ he says. ‘Dearie—I didn’t know you was a live wire when T sold you the sheep in Frisco! “She shakes her h 1 don’t know what you mean,’ tells him. the Then He grins ‘Fair to me! he *“‘Yes,’ she tells hi: not what you thinl wouldn’t be gettin® ‘But it's you I wa you.' ‘Tm_ not me, she says. ‘Least- wise, I'm not the girl you think I am, at all’ For a moment she stares out the window, figgerin’ whether to tell him or not, then she turns ‘round again, and all the baby look fades out o' her eves, and when she talks she's lost a sort o little lisp she'd used to have. ““What you want.’ she tells him. ‘is a brainless little baby doll that's such a fool she doesn't know straight ul Isn't that right” He starts to shal his head, but sho stops him. ‘That's what_you been in love with all th months,’ she tells him. ‘That's the ionly girl you seen’' Suddenly she leans toward him kind o’ flerce, ““I gotta break loose some avs. I gotta tell the truth or I ain’t sweet an’ trustin’ an’ innocent at all. I had t' take care o myself all my life an’ o’ Bud, too, part o' the time. I used t' sing in cheap vaudeville an’ it was there I learned ' look sweet an’ trust’ an’ innocent. I learned it was the greatest little pro: tection a girl c'd have, 'sides getun’ her what she wanted about nine- tenths o' the time. An’ I didn’t think every one here was kind an’ good an just loved sheep. I found out two days before we got here what a dirty trick that Beith fellowd playe'd on us, and that you were all just layin' for snoozers. But I knew Bud was bank- in’ everythin' on it, so I never let on, just figured that I'd fix it somehow. And then that day., when you come. 1'a just gotten on to the fact that Bud wasn't goin’ t' get well again. ever. an’ that I'd have to pretend I thought he was—on top o' evervthin' else— she stopped to kind o' get her breath an’ Sam asks a question. “+And Mis' Bascomb—7? Yes' she telis him, figshin’. ‘I knowed what she was th' minute I set eyes on her. An' the saloons—did you think any one with a lick o’ sensd wouldn't guess, Sam Sepulvida? But since you'd done it for me I kept still and then—' her face kind o' loosenar up and suddenly, right through her tears she grins at him. ‘I kinda fig- ured it wouldn't do any o' you any harm to behave for awhile. * * ok ¥ “BUT Sam doesn’t smile back. He turns away and picks up his hat. was as innocent as vou make out| *‘Well. I reckon T'll be goin’, he you wouldn’t he here in this house. |says ‘Havin’ made pretty consider- Then, as she doesn't answer, he leans | 1" " 000106 mygelf all around.’ still vhat's to prevent | ey . our g':'-;fi‘;n' m.-yt ;-n' uxmr »iAnd without sayin' anythin' more he ‘Yes, you do’ he says, leerin’ at her. ‘You needn’t waste any o' that pretty baby stuff -on me. If you We c'd make a swell get-away “She don’t say anything. just stands there until, all of a sudden, he sees he’s made a mistake.. So he goes over to her. threatenin’. ‘Hand it over” he says hand it over: And just at that moment body takes him by the scruff of the neck and hangs his head against the wall until he don’'t know much of anything. then kicks him out the door and up onto his horse, which s itself into motion away from 0 ‘Damn yo! some- n. “Then Sam. who'd just happened to hanpen in, walks hack into the room and finds Alice all doubled up in a faint on the floor He picks her np and after a moment she's all right again. only lookin’ kind o' white, an® he finds himself proposin’ to her for the second time, not hecause he's g any particular reason t' think she’ changed her mind, but because he’s all wrought up and don't know any:- thing elfe to do. But she just shakes her head. “‘T'd like to, Sam,’ she tells him, goes to the door and climbs on his horse. He gets as far as the outside o' town and suddenly it occurs to him he's left his pipc back to Mis' Baa. comb’s. Bein' some wedded to it, he goes back again. figurin' that by mow « has gone upstairs. « goes un the steps real quiet and inside the door before he sees r. And then he don’t stop for nothin', but just hurtles acrost the reem, ‘cause Alice is sittin’ curled up ion the floor cryin’ her blue eyes out r somethin” an’' the thing she in" over is h's pipe. here wns another long silence. nly by the. wéird clank and the bounding car, then: said Red. “Those sheep we passed—they're some fat. they- are, inot havin’ anythin’ t' do but eat their heads off. But Little Bo-Peep—he |don’t get no chance to get fat. Mis® {Sopulvida—she don’t let him, T { T {broken o sh | bet? | (Copyright. Printed by arrangement witii' Star and the Metropolitan Newspayen | Service.) Ever, Ever Green —Continued He made a grandiose bow. “Excuse me! Excuse me and no harm meant. Far be it from me to interfere between any lady and her gentlemen friends. Excuse me, kiddo, and no harm meant.” ok x % HE was on her feet and quivering “You! You! Ain't you ashamed, you? A—a boy like Ben. You and your rotten crowd with your rotten thoughts. Gawd, I dare you to stop in and see for yourself when he stops in here for a minute tonght that there’s something besides rottenne: in this world, that there are men can live in this world without wallowing n the mud. You—whatta you and your gang know about boys like Ben? You and your kind don’t know!" “It's soft for you, kiddo. I ain't blaming you.” “You and your gang! Gee, if you was invited to a saint’s supper, you'd watch your overcoat. Whatta you all know about a man who can look at the sun without squinting, you and your gang?”’ He rose, expostulating: “Gee, ain’t you a little spitfire! Get. ting me wrong like that. 1 never said nothing against him. Sure he's a real guy. I seen him once with Al: a great big fellow with a mouth full of teeth and a smile as catching as measles. Say, if this way of golng on suits you, kiddo, cure you're taking. Sure I remember the fellow, and his five-inch smile.’ “Smile! Gee, right after the paraly- sis set in and I was stark raving crazy with the scare, it was that smile steered and—' “Sure, sure. Say, none of my butt-i e s e s e s s His incertitude might have been a cabal of opinion inveighed against her. A wall of fog rose up sheer, dim- ming her eyes. “I—honest, you got me so upset— 80 upset I—I just don't know what to do—I dunno. You could make a ruler look erooked—you and your— your crooked way of thinkin'. “That's the way with a fellow like me; let me try to hand somebody something, and they turn around and land me one. “No, no, Lee; I didn’'t mean noth- ing.” all of this ain't - “Let a fellow like me try to do a| girl a turn and watch him get stung every time. He was stayed, but sullen. “Say, you ain’t doing me no fa But your luggage all on you, ain’t it? Didn’t you y 80 yourself— nothing here ain’t yours?” 'Y-yes.” “Then what's hurting?” “I—I'm all out of step, too, Le He turned to her, conciliatory. “But you ain’t lost your looks, kid- do. I got to hand it to you, there. You ain’t lost your looks.” ‘I—couldn’t g6 without telling him —RBen.’ “Tell him you're on your job again like a self-respecting girl, and he‘lll think more of you.” “But sometimes it's nearly 12 when he- passes from. the Monday night meetings ‘and—and the train's off at “Write him. Gee, a fellow don't need a brick opry house to fall o him. But don’t let me butt in, it— Tm all out_of step, Lee.” But lights were burning in her eyes. He smiled down at her and patted her shoulder. *“You' all right, Lo-Lo. But wait till you see the part I've got up my sleeve for you, A five-minute single with a chorus support that’ll make you over night.” “Lee! “Im going to advertise you, too, kiddo. You got a running start onm press stuff already that’ll make you a feature on any bill” “Gawd, Lee, I—I feel right scared.” “Sure ‘you do. It's a wonder nine months in a tank like this ain’t sent you to a padded cell.” “It ain’'t that, Lee. Honest, you'll laugh, but I've kinda got to liking it. It—honest, it's 2 great little tova, Lee.” 3 “Sure.” *“We lived here so quiet together— him and me, Lee—so, 80 “One week on Broadway, legs back.” quivered like wound: and you'll awd knows it ain't my rest| He shifted uneasily. “Thats the idea, girl. But looka, five to 3! 1 gotta beat it, Lo. “’Leven-seven. 1 gotia get a few things together. e. 1 wonder What time the meeting wi - Le’ righ seven train and a_ ten-forty curtain. Can you Thirty minutes to pack up a’ show as big as a circus. Be down at the train, kiddo, and I'll be | there with bells on to take eare of ‘you. I got to beat it now; you know" betiern me how that gang needs watching. 'Leven-seven, kidd: o “ Eleven-seven! TYou can make the station from here In three minutes. ! So long. peaches. You're one great little kid, and the girls will t 4 on the jo . o t to see you b again. . o e e e { He was off and down the steps, clicking the gate behind him and ciat- {tering smartly down the walk. 3 His feet sprung echoes; she listened until they died, then turned to the room again, the back of her hand laid across her lips. The kitchen clock: ticked with ex- i pressionless and wooden regularity. j The recently occupied carpet rocke: {and her own low chair were drawn ! toward the room in the casual atti- itude of en tete-a-tete. She dragged i them back into place. The swinging. jlamp she detached from its bracket. and, holding it high above her head {80 that she walked in a flood of light, hurried into the little bedroom. On the floor beside the trunk and i with a great spurt of energy she fell to packing her little handbag. ! "At 10 o'clock she made a careful itour of the house. Memories like | wild flowers sprang out from every {corner. A steamer chair. bared of !its pillows and folded against the kitchen wall, set her i> trembling. Tears would come. She dried them on her sleeve. She barred the front latch and, hatted and gloved, tip-toed through the kitchen and out of doors. folding over the green shutters, springing the boit in the woodshed, rattling the cellar windows. On the front lawn. . Wwhitened with moonlight, the lilac bush lifted its blooming heads brave- Iy against the nip in the alr, and its fragrance, druggish and full of | swcetness, was delicate as the per- fume of & love story. She held its ! blossoms to her cheek and tears fell { on the cool leaves. * k x % FTER .a time she made a quick foray -into the house and out again with a folded sheet, which she slapped open and with a great strain- ing of all her strength flung it up-’ ward over the flowering bush. In the center of the lawn 1t stood like a bulgy phantom. ) For a while she hung.on the white Dicket fence, straining her eyes to- ward the lights of the town. She fell to crying silently. The moon- faced, moon-colored tower clock boomed eleven, each stroke yaitin for its echo to die. ~Great hot were racing over her body an walked a space intd the shado the board sidewalk llt;fl. back, al her head cocked in.the attitude lllkenlngi : ey that led to town. Al through the brack: berland behind the sh see the checkered fiash of the Mghted train windows and a great plume of that rose and died on the noc- :mo 1 1 urnal landscape. s she could feel fhe hot fanning breath of the coaches as they slowed, shrieking on their rails into the station. The heavy engine throbs- were like heart-beats and its bell clanged against her temples. A coughing of steam gouged out th silence. She stood listening. C minutes passed as she would push the beads downs the thread of a rosary. Perdita in her garden of mint and marigol; shed no more scalding tears, From the depth of the bordered walk came the faint march of footsteps, reverberating through.the 1o low of the night. The engine bell. clanged again and furiously, and: presently. without turning her head. through bracken and timberland, behind the cottage she could see the. fluent motion of lighted train wine- . dows flashing past. Came the footsteps ‘now almost : upon her. light-heeled and ringing, as if a soldler with new spurs on his boots were marching toward bes. (Copyright, 1921)