The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, April 19, 1896, Page 17

THE SAN FRANCISCO CALL, SUNDAY, APRIL 19, 1896 night Joseph ( y as French Joe, Backdoor ace Joe, and the like, greeable This in spite of the glar’s matchless skill as a t opera- | happened to besleeping d room and was to tom 1 unaceus- commonly wake- As he was rather a delicate man Joe, who was po of prodigious strength, found the task not at all diffi- cu none the less distasteful for that the e ferocity to choke eing t is com- he deft skill of a burglar so d as Queltin, but when driven s the alternative of an outery, discovery he did not h At the instant when, after turning v of Mr. tin’s hall do w “outsider, rtered and the victim awoke, he shot | open the slide of bhis dark-lantern, so as to draw Mr. Martin’s atten- tion from nger to the broad | upon the opposite wall, and then sprang to the bed in the shadow and sank ten | trusty fingers and thumbs into a warm, yielding thrc It was ull over in a min- ute or two. Then the burglar, with anything but a cheerful heart and with many a nervous | glanee toward the silence that burdened | the bed and filled the whole chamber with | its weight, proceeded about his business. \ He had done so much fine preliminary work on the case, and had planned the | affair with so great cure that the surprise which had forced him into a tragedy had weakened the security of his nerve. He shivered as he glanced over his shoulder toward the bed with its awful load of silence. *Don’t suppose there’s another man in my profession that conld have goton to | this sly old duck with his rubies and dia- monds that he brought from India. That's | because the lad don’t understand the trick | of watching the faces of people when the | riu'\tnms officers put’em through at the dock. “‘Good thing that beastlv monkey that % | circle of the lantern threw | | be brought was sly enough to do the smuggling while the officers was thinking about Good thing for me, too, that i nothing just t he screechin, semi-cheerful mono- e a trunk and the vurean were yielding up from remoter corners a sparkiing diamond a glowing ruby there, Queltin er remendous nervous strain. The commission of a murder in the course glary is not only unprofessional | and evidence of a blundering skill in an | exquisite art, but_the silence that follows sive, biting and terrifying. The ar’s nerves were on so hard a strain when the closed door standing within now, or he m In spite logue, the circle of light thrown by the dark lan- tern was suddenly opened and a formid- able fignre slouched clumsily over the threshold, the bu r with a smothered gasp snatched a stifling mask from his face with his left hand, drew a long, thin- bladed with his right and sprang | back into attitude of defense. It seemed to h at in this one moment of terror his heart 1ld burst, But it was only for a moment. In the | next instant he recognized the lodger’s aid mn the smuggling enterprise—a splendid specimen of the male orang-outang, five feet in height, and though of enormous strength, an indolent and docile beast. It was not alone the opening of the door that | had alarmed the burgiar; the giant ape, startled by the unaccustomed burning eye that blazed at him from the dark-lantern on the bureau had as: sumed instinctively a menacing atti- tude toward it, ignorant as yet of the more formidable presence that crouched behind the lantern in the darkness, and t with drawn knife awaited assault. The ape soon realized that what he saw was not dangerous, and then he yawr d, blinked sleepily znd began to look idly about the room. | From terror the situation of Queltin quickly degenerated into that of a haif- amused perplexity. Would the beast, see- ing bis master. Iying so quiet on the bed, retire peacefully ? - Would he suspect any- | thing from the disordered condition of the H bed-clothing, or from his master’s disor- | g aspect, or from his silence or the | prevalent evidences of confusion in the | Could he smell a strange man? If | vered «the truth would ne run, cry | out or fight? | The orang, unlike his anthropoid con- | geners, is slow and deliberate.in domes- | tication, seeming to have more thinking | than arything else to do.- This one, | called by his ster Kahmo, seemed | old, for he was growing gray, carried | considerable flesh and was awkward in gait. The heavy projection of his | orbital arches and “their furnishing of rebeiliows hair, taken with the expanse of his jaw and the sinister smailness of his ears, gave him a ferocious look, which | the bland expression of his. eyes was in- sufficient to tame. His grotesquely long arms, reaching below his knees, suggestive restlessness that contrasted oddly with the blankness of his face and the cluntsiness of his body and lower limbs. . Having yawned, blinked and glanced idly about the room the ape, too indolent and sleepy to move further, “peered at his master’s bed, which lay in'semi-darkness, As he did so’his mannér becarhe more at- tentive. He cocked his head on this side and that, listening. Meanwhile he had succumbed into a sifting posture, his | leaped from the bed toward thedoor which “ Queltin began to advance cautiously, his knifeshand behind him.” ‘Without in the least relaxing the pres- sure of his arms the orang began to squirm and struggle in an effort to reac: Queltin’s throat with his teeth. Discov- ering that he had taken his hold too low even to reach the side of the burglar's neck, the ape_selected a convenient spot in Queltin’s shoulder and sank his strong teeth through the clothing and into the flesh. Queltin groaned. Then a-fierce struggle began. Miss Heckney, the woman who lived alone in the suite above, was roused from her light slumber by adeep groan, suc- ceeded by an irregular thumping. She lay still a little while, then she sprang out of bed, alarmed by a heavy fall. She realized vaguely that something unusual was afoot in the house, and an intense fear assailed her. She tried bravely to reassure herself with calm reasoning. Doubtless a drunken man was being brought home. The occasional groans might be natural with a drunken man, butif there was a struggle which meant murder it couid not be so greatly prolonged without cries. Despite all this reasoning her heart beat with stifling force and rapidity. Fi- nally, being unable longer to control her fears, she staggered from her bedchamber inte the front room, intending to open her window and cry an alarm. This window was a counterpart of the one below. On raising the shade she wasappalled by a spectacle across the street. There,’on a h&ank white wall, iliuminated from the apartments of the lodger beneath her, Mr. l\iamn, she saw moving shadows that held her hand from the window-latch and chained all her faculties of volition. Never- theless, she retained a clear recollection of all that she saw, as will be seen from the following intelligent testimony which she gave before a Coroner's jury two days afterward : “The shadows as 1 saw them through the glass were so strange and frightiul that I did not have the strength to open the window and call for help. At first v were very large, but as the objects sting them nes the window they dwindled in size, but to the last were gi- gantic and terrible. “When I first saw them I supposed them to have been castby two men struggling desperately in a close embrace. They were so cl- sely mingled and writhed so rapidly that fora time [ could not distinguish them, but at intervals there would be a pause. Presently I discovered that one of the shadows was that of a man of ordinary proportions, and that tie other was ex- I'hwm'!’ i i knuckles resting on the floor. He seemed to become more and more interested as he listened. Then be shambled on all fours to the bedside, quietly raised himself o a standing posture and gazed earnestly at his master. Queltin breatblessly awaited the result. Kahmo gently touched his master’s hand, tben raised it and'let it fall inert. He waited .and then took his master by the shoulder and shook him. There was | no response. The ape desisted and seat- | ing himself comfortably on thé edge of the | bed yawned as though he was bored. i All' this had consumed so much time | that Queltin could no longer bear the | strain imposed by his attitude. Although | he bad no acquaintance with the ape he had observed him to be intelligent and docile. He decided therefore to make hi presence known and offer some friendi$ | advances. Gently placing his knife hand | behind him he took a step forward, saying pleasantl} With 'astounding celerity ' the orang e had left open. This entered an inner chamber, and was not the door by which | Queltin " had gained admittance. He | paused at the threshold and faced the in- truder, his eyes fiashing and his formid- able teeth bared in a menacing grin. As he was in full glare of the light he could not see the burglar, who, noting the ad- vantage which the shadow gave him, re- | mained where he was, but began to speak coaxingly to the brute. The light annoyed Kahmo. Though he feared danger, his master’s presence was more reassuring than possible safety in flight into back rooms, from which_ escape in the event of pursuit would be difficult. | Besides, Kahmo had the ahsorbing curios- | ity of his species. He itched for a clear view of the figure now dimly discernible | in the shadow. In order to secure this he | must abandon his means of retreat. This he suddenly did, alighting in one clean bound upon his master's bed, which cracked under the impact. There, being | in equal darkness with theintruder, he veered sharply av him. . Queltin continued to speak reassuringly in low tonex, as there were other lodgers in the house. He began cautiously to ad- | vance, his knife-hand behind him and his | eyes making careful study of a place in the ape’s body to receive the thrust. | All at once the burglar wondered why he | liad deemed it necessary to attack the ape. Being a shrewd and experienced operator | he had made it a rule to be governed by unconscious rather than deliberate men - tal operations in perilous situations. His instinet in this instance urged him to kill, but his reason questioned both the neces- sity and the expediency of that course. As the ape was evidently terrified, was ig- norant of his master’s death and clung to the pody for protection, what risk would Queltin_run in retreating quietly, seeing that he had already made a haul of jewels | that would support him in luxury fora year or more? But there must be other fine stones hidden away, and the burglar who understands his bnsiness would be ashamed to leave them. And, besides, what was there about a gibbering, grinning ape to frighten a strong man of superior intelligence and courage? Queltin snapped his fingers at his timidity, openly sheathed his knife and proceeded about his work. Toe orang couched immovable upon the bed, one hand pressing his master’s breast, and watched the burglar unceasingly. 1t became necessary for ‘Queltin to pick up the dark-lantern and use it in his ex- vlorations. He searched the remotest cor- ners of the bureau-drawers and then began wently torip up the edges of the carpei. He found a gem here and there. Finally he had made a thorough search of that room. without interruption, from Kahmo, who still sat in. pitiful helplessness on the bed, no part of him except his eyes having moved. Queltin now decided to mine the other chambers of the suite. contempt for Kahmo was complete. He was even so foolhardy as to make a grimace and a feint of striking as he passed the bed on his way to the open door. Kabmo dodged, bared his teeth and growled, and for the first time his eves h]frl d with a newlight. Queltin chuckled oft! While searching the inner room the burglar, whose attentive ear had caught no sound, felt a chill air. He was on his knees pressing the carpet with his fingers at that side of the room farthest from the communicating door. His lantern sat on the floor, its blazing ‘eye directed toward the door and throwing “its lieht upon a French window in the front of the room where Mr. Martin lay, nearly forty feet away. To his astonishment he discovered that the shade covering this window had been raised to the top and that the two broad-hinged sashes were wide open. Queltin even noticed that the light from his lantern, after passing through the open door and window, felfupon a blank white wall on the opposite side of the street. He was puzzled and alarmed. How couid the window have been opened and for what purpose? The rooms were on the first floor. Underneath them were shops. Directly above was a snite oceu- pied by an elderty woman who taught school and lived alone. She could not have reachea the window without passing tbhrough the roonr in which Mr. Martin lay, and the window could not have been approached from without except by the aid of a ladader to the fire-escape. At last an idea struck the burglar—the ape had escaped by means of the window. That seemed simple and natural. But it was dangerous to have the win- dow open and the curtain up—the moy- ing light might attract the police. Quel- tin was putting forth his hand to shift the light before closing thé window, when two lithe, long and powerful arms’ closed si. lently upon him, pressing hisown arms to his sides. “Kahmo!” he gasped, as the brute’s grasp tizchtened. The orang had seized him from a quar- tering rear approach. Both were seated on the floor. Queltin was at a great dis- advantage. Only his hands were free, but he could reach nothing with them, not even his knife, which was pressed firmly between his body and the ape’s. The burglar made no resistance at pres- ent except to stiffem his muscles against the crushing force of Kahmo's embrace, He needed time to think and also to re- cover his nerve, for an u akable fear sat cold upon his heart. There must be no haphazard work here; no blind ex- pevditure of precious strength and endur- ance, and yet no dangerous loss of time. The ape’s terrible strength and the cun- ning, silence and daring with which he had planned the attack appalled the help- less man. The steadiness and 1ncreasing force of Kahmo's grasp were straining the prisoner’s ribs, shortening his breath and giving his head an ominous sensation of fullness. < tremely grotesque and ill-shaped. Tt was shorter than the other. The head was small and round, the forehead retreating, the brows heavy and acgressive, the neck very short, the arms prodigiously long and the'legs very short, sprawling and widely bowed. This one seemed to be the stronger of the two. He held the rear right side of the otber pressed close against his body, and was evidently urging him toward the open window. The other seemed to be aware of that purpose and was struggling to avoid being dragged thither and thrown out. “The short object evidently had a deep hold in the man’s shoulder with his teeth, T could see him tug at the shoulder now and then, and with each such effort the man would groan. The short one seemed to be tearing the other's flesh with his teeth.” (At the recollection of this incident the witness paled and came near fainting. Presently she was able to proceed.) {The taller one’s legs were free, but ! whenever he would k the short one, standing on one leg, would twine the otner round the tall one’s legs and tug more fiercely with his teeth at the shoulder. That would cause the tall one to desist for & time. In this way, inch by inch, they reached the window. The finaland nercest struggle was there. “Afall from the window to the stone pivement meant death. The tall one | braced himself against the facing. Torn from that he suddenly collapsed and both rolled npon the floor.” The shadows then | became so foreshortened and confused that I could make very little of what was going on, but I inferred that the shorter one was gradually working himself and the other head forward over the sill. I was too horrified to open my window and look } down, or I could have seen them. “I might bave done so, however, had it | not been for a terrible cry of pain and fear that went abroad from the strugeling pair. | It was the cry of a man in extreme agony. Immediately afterward the dull impact of a heayy body upon the sidewalk struck my senses like a blow. A police whistle sounded and I heard men running. At that juncture I saw only one shadow on the wall. It was that of the shorter object. “My head was swimming and I was stifling. I fraatically tore the window open for the fresh, cold air. Below I saw men kneeling over onelying on the ground. One of them, a policeman, said, *His head | Is wide open; no ambulance needed here.’ | They said other things—something about French Joe—but I didn’t hear them dis- tinctly. They had been looking up at the open window. I could see nothing there, | although I knew the short object was just within, for I saw its shadow across ‘the street. I heard the footsteps of men ascend- ing the stairs. ‘‘Then another shadow “appeared. It was that of a man dressed for bed. By its decreasing size 1 knew that it was ap- proaching the window. The man seemed to be staggering. When he had come near the other turned, gave a plaintive cry and threw his arm around him in a caressing embrace. The other patted him | ESPITE the populanty of the | bicycle and the preaictions we Lieard so frequently only a short | time ago there seems to be a general reaction this spring | both East and West in favor of the horse. | Those enthusiastic wheel-lovers who were | so ready to predict that tne noble animal | had had his day and would soon become | an ornament or a curlosity seem to be a | little premature. The horse will never go ‘ out of service as the friend and compan- ion of man’s toils and pleasures until we | come ourselves to be mere machines and | utilitarians. And in particular will the | bicycle never supersede him. A mere thing of rubber, wire and wind can never | take the place of the living, breathing, re- | sponsive creature with a conscious intelli- | gence, who enters into work or sport with | us and has a perfectly recognizable partic- | ipation in all external things that concern | his rider.. I have heard wheelmen talk of their machines as though they were alive; but I always have a feeling that in their hearts they know better. And I never heard a group of them together when the talk ‘was not of wheels and bars and wrenches and tires, prices, repairs and records. When will you hear equestrians wasting time over such chatter? When they taik horse, as we all of us love to do, they have something alive to speak of—a responsive, flesh and blood creatnre who keeps his own bearings oiled, and as for tires, why if you gain his love he is tire- less in your service. Yes, despite predictions, the star of the horse is again in the ascendant. The ane imals are bringing better prices. The bi- cycle craze has had the good effect of caus- ing breeders to raise fewer scrubs, and there is just now quite a perceptible de- mand for vood saddle-horses. The current issue of one popular mag- azine has an article anent women on horseback, with illustrations that would serve admirably as examples of how not to ride. The horse in motionf has always been more or less of a poser for our artists. John Sturgis, in his well-known painting, “Not This Time,” shows a horsewoman on a bydrocephalic steed, that has just, ap- parently, refused a ditch, probably aware of his physical infirmities, while in the background careers another rider—a man —whose horse, could he ever have got GOING [From a painting into such a position as the artist pictures. could never bv any possibility recover himself. The artist’s model for this draw- ing is not difficult to imagine. The por- trait is exactly that of the time-honored wooden hobby-horse on rockers. In or- der to gather hmself for his next stride, a horse in such -an unfortunate position would have to have a fifth lez in the mid- dle of his body. In the style of hobby- horse that moves on a spring such a leg is always supplied. But it is in the portrayal of the horse and rider in the act of leaping that our picture-makers are oftenest betrayed into absurdities. ; ] As an explanation of what is amiss in one picture here revroduced a brief glance at what is involved in a leap may be in oraer. 2 3 The problem presented is to get a rapidly moving animal over a barrier with as little danger to his rider and himself as possi- ble.” A woman in the side-saddle has a much firmer seat for leaping than a man has; but in the event of her horse getting a fall her perils are multiplied threefold over those of the rider on the cross-saddle. Coming at his fence at a moderate gallop— for a horse should never be allowed to rush at any obstacle as it is the custom of some riders to put their mounts at a bar— the animal begins his leap with a quick spring of the hind legs, which carries him to the rise. If the rider is leaning back- ward or sitting too far back in the saddle at this juncture she receivesan impulse from the powerful quarters that would be pretty apt to unseat her. B As a matter of fact, however, thejrisin affectionately, and then the short one whined and cried like & child. The man, hqldding the shorter one’s head back, said: ‘“Why, Kaamo, what is the matter? You are blocdy and you cry and tremble. What has happened, Kahmo? My head is bursting, and my throat is sore. Ah, there's some one at the door!” W. C. Morzow. of the horse brings the body of & goo rider quite involuntarily into an upright position, and the batance and seat are maintaihed, as in ordinary riding, by the same instinctive clinging of thigh and knee. The hands should kept as close as possible to the body, in order that they may have room to ‘‘give” readily when the horse thrusts forward his head in coming down. At this stage of the leap the rider 17 4 BEREDS Ui TS must lean backward, in order to avoid being shot from the saddle by the concus- sion of th'e hind feet in landing. The reins should be held tightly and firmly, the snaffle snug, the curb more loosely, else the horse, fearing to thrust forward his head, may come down with a bounce upon | all four feet at once, a proceeding most disconcerting to the rider and about as easy to sit as a “‘buck-jump.”’ A good leaper brings his forefeet first to the ground, the hind ones following in an instant, ready, if he has been kept well in hand, to go on his even way rejoicing. Butif there has been any sawing at the curb, any undue restraint or rigidity on the part of the rider, so that he has not had giu head, to feel sure that no sharp, cutting curb is going to bruise his mouth if he obeys the natural instinct to stretch | his neck and preserve his balance, or to thrust forward his head 1n recovering his | stride, he may bring his hind feet down first, in which case I have known a rider to be rendered unconscious by the concus- sion. Now, keeping these points in mind, nls]igbtly | 7 //,/’}If = '/ “ G \ | clutch, wit! 7 L 4 him, but it is a hope tempered by anxiety. The rider, too, is leaning backward, on the rise, until the center of gravity of her body seems to fall perilously without the base, while she is evidently determined that the horse shall not have his head if she can help it. Else why that desperate outstretched arms, at curb and snaffle? 1f her mount so far over- comes his fear of the pressing curb as to thrust out his nose and let her down easily, the reins will either be jerked from her hands or she will be dragged forward upon hisneck. In any event, the outlook for the landing looks dubious for both horse and rider. To take that leap comfortably the lady should be sitting so nearly perpendicular with the ground that she would appear to be leaning forward, and a line dropped from her shoulder would fall down across the blade of her horse’s. Instead of her arms being stretched out before her, the elbows should be flexed, with hands, hold- ing the reins well gathered, close to her bedy. The left foot should be drawn very back, thrust well home in the THE WAY A HORSE REALLY GALLOPS. [From a drawing by Gray Parker.] WELL. by Thomas Blinks.] stirrup, with the left knee pressed closely against the third hoin, and the curb-rein should be a trifle relaxed. But, if our artists have yet something to learn about leaping, so, too, have riders. Itis anart in which our women are all too inexpert, although there is nothing that adds more to the pleasure of a gallop across country than the ability to »ut your horse at a fence or bar instead of rid- ing miles out of your way in search of a gate, which, unless your mount is unusun- ally well trained, you must dismount and open. Horses and riders both need train- ing for this exercise, for while some horses jump naturally and with pleasure, others understand the leap only after careful teaching. It is, however, an accomplishment they can easily be taught, for most horses are willing and anxious to do what their riders desire. In that they differ greatly from the wheel, which, it seems to me, is generally pos- sessed of a demon of perversity and takes a malicious delight in landing its rider where he does not desire to go. Atall events in the days of their more general use we heard less of accidents through vicious horses than we now here of casu- alties from unmanageable wheels. The wheelman must keep to the beaten road or push his machine laboriously up grades or through sand, must lift it over fences and across streams—in a word, he is the servant of his steed, which does for him only within a very limited range. And yet when I see half a dozen middle- aged men, gray-haired, bald-headed, inclined to take on weight and additional girth, speeding along the highway on ths Ssilent shining safety” I am glad for this renewal of their vouth and the taste the wheel affords them of out of door life and pleasure. They have at last found the next best thing to a horse. But the bicycle, rival the horse as it may, will never be beautiful. It will never be alive. It will never be a pictur~ esque feature in the landscape. One never sees it in the landscape except leaning AS NO HORSE EVER GALLOPED. |From a painting by John Sturges.] pretty fair idea of what to-avoid may be gained from a study of the accompanyin reprint of a popular painting entitle “*Going Well,” which, thongh a spirited and taking picture, is a capital illustration of how not to ride. The artist has, to begin with, chosen an unfortunate instant in the action. The thrust of the hind legs in the running jump1s so instantaneous, they are gath- ered so immediately, that at the moment the forefeet are in the poise here pictured the stifles are already flexed toward the flanks. As it is, the beholder of this pic- ture becomes a ]-rey, and the anxious wonder whether the ‘horse will bring his hind'legs with him when he lands on the other side, One has a sense of hoping he will prove adequate to the task laid upon against the rail at “the half-way house,’ and it will never take a fence. Miss RussELL. How to Get Famous in Congress. Oratory is the shortest road to Congress and if a man wants to stay in Congress after he gets there he had better be an orator than a reformer. In fact, the days of the reformer are waning. The business of reform has been so overdone and the article has so often proved spurious that a Congressman who indulges in it as stock in trade is looked upon with suspicion. If a Congressman is not an orator the second best card for him to play is to get the reputation of being a business man,— Des Moines Leader,