Evening Star Newspaper, March 23, 1930, Page 95

DN, D. C, MARCH 23, 1930. he Best Short Stories of the Year. QO “I hear you've got a good caterpillar,” says judge. “Well, well,” says Pa. It was all he could think of to say. “What breed is he?” says Oscar, taking a chew. “Well,” says Pa, “well, well.” Ned Kilbourne says he was a red one. “That's a good breed,” says Oscar, folding on his stummick and spitting over between his knees and into one spit. “I kinder fancy You're a connesewer,” 'm I, and bétween con- show you one. He's as neat a stepper as there is in this county.” “Well, well,” says Pa, kind of cold around the eyes and looking at the lithograph of Mrs. frame over the sink. Oscar slews around and fetches a box out shows us a sweet lit- ys, and waits for praise. “She was a good woman,” Pa said after a while, looking at the picture, “if any woman that's four times a widow can be called such.” “Not her,” says Oscar. “It's this yeller caterpiliar.” Pa slung his eyes on the insect which Oscar was holding, and it seemed like he’'d just got an idee. “Fasi?” he says, deep down. “That thing run! Why, a snail with the stringhalt could spit in his eye.” Old Oscar came to & boil quick. “Evidence. Bring me the evidence.” He spit, and he was that mad he let his whole chew get away from him without noticing. Buscerck says, “Here,” and takes his hand off'n his right eye. Pa never took no notice of nothing after that but the eye. It was the shiniest black onion I ever see on a man. Oscar says, “Forty dollars!” And pa pays and says, “It's worth it.” But it don’t never pay to make an enemy in horse racing or caterpillars, as you will see, after I've got around to telling you. Well, we raced Red Peril nine times after that, all along the Big Ditch, and you can hear to this day—yes, sir—that there never was a caterpillar alive could run like Red Peril. Pa got rich onto him. He allowed to buy a new team in the Spring. If he could only ’'ve started a breed from that bug, his fortune would’'ve been made and Henry Ford would've looked like a bent nickel alongside of me today. caterpillars aren't built like Ford cars. We all the great caterpillars of the year, aad it being a time for a late Winter, there was some fast running. We raced the Buffalo Big lue and Fenwick’s Night Mail and Wilson's Joe of Barneveld. There wasn't one could touch Red Peril. It was close onto October when a crowd got together and brought up the Black Arrer of Ava to race us, but Red Peril beat him by an inch. And after that there wasn't a caterpillar in the State would race '8, ”He was mighty chesty them days and had come to be quite a figger down the canal. People come aboard to talk with him and ad- mire Red Peril; and pa got the idea of charging 5 cents a sight, and that made for more money even if there wasn't no more running for the animile. He commenced to get fat. And then come the time that comes to all caterpillars. And it goes to show that a man ought to be as careful of his enemies as he is lending money to friends. was hauling down the Lansing Kill again and we'd just crossed the aqueduct over Stringer Brook when the lock keeper, that minded it and the lock just below, come out and says there was quite a lot of money being put up on a caterpillar they'd collected down in Rome. Well, pa went in and got out Red Peril and tried him out. He was fat and his stifles acted kind of stiff, but you could see with half an eye he was still fast. His start was a mite slower, but he made great speed once he got going. “He's not in the best shape in the world,” Ppa says, “and if it was any other bug I wouldn't want to run him. But I'll trust the old brute,” and he commenced brushing him up with a toothbrush he’d bought a-purpose. “Yeah,” says Ned. “It may not be right, but w've got to consider the public.” By what happened after, we might have known that we'd meet up with that caterpillar at No. 1 lock; but there wasn’t no sign of Buscerck, and Pa was so excited at racing Red Peril again that I doubt if he noticed where he was at all. He was all rigged out for the occasion. He had on a black hat and a new red boated loose with his horn for the lock you'd have thought he wanted to wake up all the deef and dumbers in seven counties. We tied by the upper gates and left the team to graze, and there was quite a crowd on hand. About nine morning boats was tied along the towpath and all the afternoon boats waited. People was hanging around, and when they heard Pa whanging his horn they let out a great cheer. He took off his hat to some of the ladies, and then he took Red Peril out of his pocket and everybody cheered scme more. “Who owns this here cadxspillar I've been hearing about?” Pa asks. ‘“Where is he? Why don’t he bring out his pore contraption?” A feller says he's in the shanty. “What’'s his name?” says Pa, “Martin Henry’s running him. He’s called the Horned Demon of Rome.” “Dinged if 1 ever thought to see him at my time ot life,” says Pa. And he goes in. Inside there was a lot of men talking and smoking and drinking and laying money faster than leghorns can lay eggs, and when Pa comes in they let out a great howdy, and when Pa put down the Brandreth box on the table they crowded round; and you'd ought to've heard the mammoth shout they give when Red Peril climbed out of his box. And well they might. Yes, sir! You can tell that caterpillar’s a thorough- bred. He's shining right down to the root of each hair. He's round, but he ain't too fat. He don’t look as supple as he used to, but the folks can’t tell that, He's got the winner's look, and he prances into the center of the ring with a kind of delicate canter that was as near single footing as I ever see a cater- pillar get to. By Jeepers Cripus! I felt proud to be in the same family as him, and I wasn’t only a little lad. Pa waits for the admiration to die down, and he lays out his money, and he says to Martin Henry, “Let’s see your ring-boned swivel-hocked imitation of a bug.” Martin answers, “Well, he ain’t much to look at, maybe, but you'll be surprised to see how he can push along.” And he lays down the dangedest lump of worm you ever set your eyes on. It’s the kind of insect a man might expect to see in France or one of them furrin lands. It's about 2% inches long and stands only half a thumbnail at the shoulder. It's green and as hairless as a newborn egg and it crouches down squint- ing around at Red Peril like a man with sweat in his eye. It ain’t natural nor refined to look at such a bug, let alone race it. When Pa seen it, he let out a shout and laughed. He couldn’t talk fram laughing. BUT the crowd didn't say a lot, having more money on the race than ever was before or since on a similar occasion. It was so much that even Pa_commenced to be serious. Well, they put 'm in the ring together and Red Peril kept over on his side with a sort of intelligent dislike. He was the brainiest article in the caterpillar line I ever knowed. The other one just hunkered down with a mean look in his eye. Millard Thompson held the ring. He counted, “One—two—three—and off.” Some folks said it was the highest he knew how to count, but he always got that far anyhow, even if it took quite a while for him to remember what figger to commence with, The ring came off and Pa and Martin Henry sunk their needles—at least they almost sunk them, for just then them standing close to the ceurse seen that Horned Demon sink his horns into the back end of Red Peril. He was always By Walter D. Edmonds a sensitive animal, Red Peril was, and if a needle made him start you can think for your- self what them two horns did for him. He cleared 12 mches in one jump—but then he sot right down on his belly, trembling. “PFoul!” hellers Pa. “My ’pillar’s fouled.” “It ain't in the rule book,” Millard says. “It's a foul!” yells Pa, and all the Forestport men yell, “Foul! Foul!” But it wasn’t sllowed. The Horned Denion commenced walking to the circle—he couldn’t move much faster than a barrel can roll up- hill, but he was getting there. We all seen two things, then. Red Peril was dying, and we was losing the race. Pa stood there kind of foamy in his beard, and the water running right out of both eyes. It's an’ awful thing to see a big man cry in public. But Ned saved us. He seen Red Peril was dying, the way he wiggled, and he figgered, with the money he had on him, he’d make him win if he could. - He leans over and puts his nose into Red Peril’s ear, and he shouts, “My Cripus, you've gone and dropped the butter!” Something got into that caterpillar's brain, dying as he was, and he lét out the smallest squeak of a hollering fright I ever listened to a caterpillar make. There was a convulsion got into him, He looked like a $3 mule with the wind colic, and then he gave a bound. My holy! How that caterpillar did rise up. When he come down again, he was stone dead, but he lay with his chin across the line. He'd won the race. The Horned Demon was blowing bad and only halfway to the line . . . Well, we won. But I think Pa's heart was busted by the squeal hc heard Red Peril make when he died. He couldn’t abide Ned's face after that, though he knowed Ned had saved the day for him. But he put Red Perils carcass in his pocket with the money and walks out. And there he seen Buscerck standing at the sluices. Pa stood looking at him. The sheriit was alongside Buscerck and Oscar Snipe on the other side, and Buscerck guessed he had ‘the law behind him. “Who owns that Horned Demon?” says Pa. “Me,” says Buscerck with a sneer. “He may have lost, but he done a good job doing it.” Pa walks right up to him, “I've got another $40 in my pocket,” he says, and he connected sizably Buscerck’s boots showed a minute. Pretty soon they let down the water and pulled him out. They had to roll a couple of galions out of him afore they got a grunt. It served him right. He'd played foul. But the sheriff was worried, and he says to Oscar, “Had I ought to -arrest Will?” (Meaning Pa.). Oscar was a sporting man. He couldn’t akide low dealing. He looks at Buscerck there, shaping his belly over the barrel, and he says, “Water never hurt a man. It keeps his hide from cracking.” So they let Pa alone. I guess they didn't think it was safe to have a man in jail that would cry about a caterpillar. But then they hadn't lived alongside of Red Peril like us. . (Copyright, 1930.) Making a Big Movie in Africa. Continued from Fifth Page when we succeed in making captive enough crocodiles. On the particular morning I mention, the crocodiles made at once for the opening which freed them from<-the inclosure—that is, all but one. He remained submerged in some muck at the side of the pool until all his brethren had made good their exit. When he saw, then, that we had come to stay, he became panic-stricken. He charged first in one direction and then the other, running his nose into the fence and gnawing at the branches with which the fence is made. I was enjoying the scene immensely when, to my amazement, I saw the thatch crumbling. He had chewed an exit and was starting through it toward some boys who blocked his path up the river. Forgetting that I would scare the crocks who had learned to enjoy their daily feast in the pool, I motioned to my gun boy for my rifle, and, using the fence as a rest, shot the big lizard twice through the head. He died without more than a few con- vulsive lashes of his tail and we managed to rope him and carry him back to camp without delay. On measurement, we found him to be almost 18 feet from tip to tip. He had been feasting s0 much on the carrion that when we opened his mouth the odor was insufferable. Howeves, the native porters fell upon his meat with a vengeance and the skin and teeth were pre- sented to me later in the day. I have never derived as much pleasure from shooting any- thing in my life—to see one is to want to kill it. NOT so0 with the hippopotamus. I went after one the next day. We had run out of car- rion and the crocodiles were leaving the pool in favor of better food in the river. Maj. Dick- inson and I started down river in the motor launch which weekly brings us mail and takes our film to Butiaba, where it is reshipped to Nairobi. Two miles below camp we ran upon a herd of hippo in the water and went ashore to stalk them. When danger is in sight the hippo stays pretty well under water, venturing occasional glances as he comes up for air once every two or three minutes. Taking our position on shore behind a bush, we waited for the river to calm and the sound of the motorboat to die away in the distance. Before many minutes the hippos had regained their confidence and were venturing well out of the water. ' “Don’t hurry,” Dickinson cau- tioned me. “Wait till one gets close enough for a sure shot. If you only wound it we'll never get near it.” After an eternity he came slowly toward shore, When he was within about 70 yards of us I put the rifle to my shoulder and fired. The bullet struck him just ahead of the ear. The tve- mendous hitting power of the rifle knocked the beast half over in the water and started him churning up the water and pawing the ground with his stubby legs. It was evident that he was trying to submerge and get away from that place where misfortune had overtaken him, but the bullet had entered his brain and partially paralyzed him. He rolled over and over, blowing blood from his nostrils. It was a pathetic sight; I regretted having shot him. In the midst of his gyrations Dick put in another shot, which entered his head from the rear and killed him stone dead. His muscles relaxed and he sank to the bottom. (Murchison Falls, Uganda, July 2J 'HE languorous calm was rather rud:ly lifted yesterday by the whistle of a steamboat making its way up the river. Before our be- fuddled wits were adjusted to this phenomenos a large British flag fluttered into view, followe@ in a minute by the smokestack and supere structure of the Luggard, queen of the Lake Albert fleet. Even before we could shave she was at anchor in midstream, a few yards from camp, and the governor of Uganda, Sir Willlam Gowers, was on his way ashore in a whaleboat manned by eight Uganda police oarsmen. Th: personal representative of King George was speedily bearing down upon an encampment of none too presentable Yankees from that dsn of American iniquity, Hollywood, Calif. Plans were made to include the governor’s party in the showing of our first films, which had arrived the same day by mail launch. IMMKDIAT!LY after dinner an improvised screen was rigged a few feet back from shore in the center of camp and our projection machine was oiled and assembled on a camp table. Chairs were placed in careful rows, a phonograph was set in the orchestra pit, - All we needed was a doorman with a lot of gold braid, and a box office, to complete the picture. I was. absorbed during the course of the evening in studying the effect of the pictures on the natives. They appeared awe-struck during the first few minutes; the thing was new to them and it took a little time to digest it and work out a satisfactory explanation. (Copyright, 1930.)