The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, June 8, 1902, Page 4

THE SUNDAY CALL Wilsonn of the Brazos observed the Old to me amia- ss for story nly r wher d a willingn active, recent of in’ quick vehem s who's quick, we ex- flash-light he’s that olt’s it comes The in a tangle f two drinks. It's an’ shows e. Peets is oks back'ard, bar Col Doc Peets is the finest eddicated ver uplifts the mental average ese yere noose. e Doc Peets proves how free survivor is, occurs when off 2 shootin’ in the more or less strangers to he appearance of neither for a word, shore does g. With the cur’ preevails in frontier camps, a who ain’t busy over faro ngrossin’ subjects san- see who does it an’ who's one shot, of course, gent gets stopped : the killer an’ his prey. is piled up on his face, an’ loose on the grass The bullet, when goes in onder his right over an’ locates itse'f s heart; an’ as yere fatal, he peters out. anglers comes down to cident, the gent who does ws departed gets to his hardwere first an’ forces his hand. He e2ys he slams away in se'f defense. * “But f he acquires his gun first, says Enright, who's dealin’ the game for the Stranglers, ‘how comes it you're the first to get In your stack? * “Bec: e he's 2 heap more slothful than me,’ says the culprit. nervous person an’ plenty gun.’ “Jack Moore tekes the cartridges outen his pistol an’ tells this rapid fire party to belt on the empty weepon. ‘Now,’ says Jack, “let's see how socn you can come to the front with that.’ “Accoosed, 2t the word, makes a move ®o quick it baflies the gaze of the commit- tee; he has the empty iron on Jack before ever you might bat your eye. Speak of betn’ soon! Lightnin’ is preposterous com- pered to him. “ *“Thar shore don't seem,’ says Jack, as be takess back the six-shooter, ‘no ele- ments of deelib’ration sbout your gun pley. " ‘At that’ ssys sccoosed, ‘I only ex- peeds this person I downs by a h'ar. He has bis arm up en’ his weepon p'inted. ¥e's organized for a center shot, but he's hit go hard he's gone before he ever gets mction.” ““You say his arm is up? seys Peets, The culprit asserts that he does. “Then,’ mays Peets, ‘the trooth is easy to run down. Gents, the facts in this matter min’t camped & minute ahead.’ *Therupon Peets prodooces one of them $im-crow devices he calls a ‘probe’ an’ enters upon some experiments. When the Geparted’s arm is extended, same as when & gent shoots, the bullet-hole is clean an’ oninterrupted. Put his arm down by his sife as in hours of peace an’ the varous muscles sort o' slides on themse'fs that s-way an’ closes the bullet-hole up. That probe is barred. Whereupon Peets gives 1t out that accoosed tells the trooth an’ certainly s ts his man after the latter is in p'sition to wage war. That settles it; we throws him loose. @ o ‘I'm 2 mighty abrupt with a one, “But the yarn I has my mental lariat on at the start is a heap different. It c off at another time an’ place. It's aneckdote of Bill Wilson’s re- ikewise it's as simple as calf- randin’. This Bill Wilson, I learns later, has some fame in the Brazos country as a shore and sudden person with his ar- tillery. I don't encounter him along When I sees him, he's 'way He's rode hun- to get revenge. An' he es in with his life at the cnly venge. No the Brazos. no’'th on the Canadian. of miles it; an dre ge me time. “Shore, 1 approves of revenge. It's a virchoo; revenge is; an’ twin brother to gratitoode. They're both cut from the e piece of lea two er an’ belong together stirrups on the same saddle. like This Bill Wilson is out for a party who rubs out his brother. An’ as I intimates he meets with success on the round-up. “It's when I'm leavin’ Tascosa with & eight-mule team an’ pintin’ out for Vegas this Wilson accosts me. I'm jest step- pin’ into the saddle on my nigh wheel mule—pore old Tom, it is. “‘Pard,” he says, ‘I'm travelin’ your trail an’ if you-all don't mind, I'll b'ar you company. I'll pay for my chuck,’ he ¥ Which you won't pay for no grub with me,’ I retorts, ‘an’ you're plumb welcome to go as far as vou likes at that. Tll call it squar’ for your company.’ “It's powerful lonesome on the plains, en’ freightin’ alone like I be, the s’clety of a decent seemin’ sport comes as & re- lief. So it’s arranged, an’ Wilson mounts his pony—a mighty excellent bronco, an’ comes rackin’ along. mighty likely months ago when I mentions to you, casual, about when I swings over to a ranch for mule rations, an’ gets ag'inst a defunct cow-puncher hangin’ in & cottonwood—lynched he is— the range boss tracl about the kome ranch with his arm wropped up en’ the blood still wet from a new bul- let le. It's that wounded range boss Bill Wilson comes no'th to meet. “One evenin’ when we're ten days out from Tascosa, this Wilson is settin’ by the fire, quiet an’ keen. He's a lean, quick gent, with gray eyes an’ a jaw which is broad at the angles an’ sharp at the p'int, the same as the jaws of dead game gents frequent is. This Wil- on ain’t much of a hand to converse, an' so far, he ain’t onbosomed himse'f touch- in’ his purpose or his dest’nation. I don’t ask; for as I lays bar’ former, inquis’tive- ness is mighty bad manners in the South- west. This yere night, however, Wilson gets commoonicative an’ tells all about himse’f, an’ the cow outfit he's ridin’ for on the Brazos when he’s on his own prop- er range. Partic'lar, he informs me that he’s right now engaged on a revengeful scout for a’ party who kills off his brother; an’ when he mentions names, I discovers that his brother is the cottonwood cow- boy an’ that it's the range boss with the wounded arm he's layin’ for. I don’t, for 1, let on none I've met up with these two gents—his brother an’ that range boss. It's a good system to let every sport rope, saddle an’ ride his own cay= ouse; Idon't aim to go about augumentin® feuds by vain details about what I knows This Bill, however, talks so much on this yere one partic’lar evenin’ concernin’ his relative's takin’ off an’ the smoky things he reckons he'll do by way of retaliatior, that to be p'lite I asks a trivial question or so jest to let on I'm interested. ** ‘It ain’t so much that my brother gets done,’ says this Bill as he converses along in response to them sundry querfes I lets fly, ‘but it's the fashion .wherein they turns the trick on him. If this range boss person had gone to a show down with the Deacon—(this Bill allers alloodes to his brother as ‘the Deacon,’ ’cause he's re- ligious & whole lot an’ long ago j'ines the church)—an’ simply shoots it out with him, face' to face an’ gent to gent, I wouldn’t now be pirootin’ about thinkin’ of vengeance an’ aimin’ at skelps. While I might deplore the Deacon’s takin’ off, T'd realize that it's accordin to roole an’ dismiss it from my mind. But this yere is not the tale; the Deacon’s strung up to e cottonwood limb like & common hoss thief. Thar’s no jestification for that; it's onfa'r an’ dishonorable an’ this range boss party who floor-manages the outrage has done got to explain it away to my gun. What I resents is the hangin' of the Deacon an’ not the fact of his death. Be- #ides my mother over in Hillsboro allows she won't rest easy none while this range boss party lasts. The Deacon’s the old lady’s pet, an’ hangin’ him up in a cottonwood that a-way has got her all “THIS YERE NIGHT, HOWEVER, WILSON GETS COMMOONICATIVE, AN’ TELLS ALL ABOUT HIMSE »~ “No, I don’t remonstrate agin the re- vengeful schemes of this Bill.. An’ I'm speshul silent when I hears how his mother sort o' set her heart on the obliteration of the range boss. Old ladies gets my sympathy right along, an’ I allers agrees in the most onquestionin’ fashion to whatever they demands. “When this Bill's enterprise of venge- ance got down to the turn I never be- holds a racket which, while plumb cour- teous an’ on the level, gets pulled off so commonplace. We're camped one evenin’ —the mules an* me an' this Bill-by a water hole, an' the ranch, over which this yere offendin’ range boss preevails, lays off a hour’s ride to one side. At this Bill's request, I rides over an’ explains things to the range boss. This Bill puts it up that he don’t want to see the place nor the cottonwood where the Deacon gets swung off, for fear he'll lose his temper an’ conduct himse'f onbecomin’ a gent an’' a cow puncher. Wherefore I rides over to the ranch, like I states, a depootation of one, to confer with the range boss, notify him of this Blll'’s mis- sion, an’ organize details so, no matter what happens, it's goin’ to be a credit. “I must say I'm mighty gratified with assoomes. ‘You-all can tell this yere Wilson gent,’ he says, ‘that I regret the Iynchin’ of the Deacon as much as him- se'f. The boys gets impulsive after he plugs me an’ ropes up the Deacon in a sperit of onthinkin’ zeal; I'd have stopped ‘em If T could. They oughter have left it for me an’ the Deacon to settle at our leesure. But they ‘don’t} an'e now that can’t be he'ped none. All I can say s, that 'm'fres to make arrangements agree’ble to this brother Bill Wilson, an’ that I applauds his mission in these parts. To tell the trooth, I've been look- in’ for him to show up any time these two weeks. “It's then figgered out by me an’ the rango boss that he'll ride up to my camp not an hour behind my return. That'll grant this Bill ¢{ime to frame himse'f up for events. “‘An’ say to this brother Bill,’ says the range boss, ‘that I'll not bring a troop of admirin’ adherents at my hocks; I'll come alone, an’ he won't run no resk of the Deacon's finish in case he outlucks or outshoots me with the guns.’ “Son, I reiterates that I never takes part in a war-jig which comes off so whoops an’ no rannikaboo slambangin’ about with six-shooters by way of pree- lim’naries. The range boss is thar as serene as a church. Him an’ this Bill comes to a prompt onderstandin’. The range boss su'gests twenty paces, an’ me to give the signal to open the baile by crackin’ off my Colt’s. “‘Or,” says the range boss to this Bill, ‘you-all can make her closter, jest as strikes your fancy. When I says twenty paces, that a-way, that's merely a su’gestion.” “‘Twenty paces’ observes this Bill, ‘would be my notion to a white chip it it's cl'arly onderstood that once the war is on each gent is free to advance an’ fire at will.’ “ ‘Shore!’ agrees the range bass. ‘T takes it sech onderstandin’ is inferred. Thar would be mighty Ilittle sense in equippin’ a gun with six chambers if gents i1s then goin’ to tle themse'fs down to one.” “Tharupon these two sports measures off the distance, splittin’ the sun between ‘em as squar’ly as you could cut a deck of kyards. Then they stands up, thumbs in their belts an' guns in the scabbards. wrought up.’ the range boss an’ the attitoode he decorous an’ quiet. Thar's no oaths nor They shore makes as beautiful a picture i etk 0 3 3 2 e S S e 2 2 o=t of two clean strain gents as ever I hopes to meet. The range boss, broad, steady, honest, seems as squar’ a party as ever buckles on a belt, while this Bill, thin, sharp, with glintin’ eyes like sparks an’ face as white as a gambler's shirt, shore looks like he's thar to slay. I gives ‘em a moment or o to fully get thar eyes on each other an’ on nothin’ else; the same bein’ needful to good shootin’, this last bein’ a art wherein concentration counts. As they stands thar, ready, I pauses ten seconds an’ cuts loose the signal *“That dooel is a triumph. The range boss don’t shoot but once, for this Bill's first bullet goes through his forehead. That one shot is plenty, however, for it cuts the big artery in this Bill's neck an’ his case is closed an’ his sperit on its eternal travels as fast as blood can flow. This Bill starts toward the range boss with the fire, an’ he begins to fall for- ‘ard with the first step. The range boss, dead In his moccasins like a shock of lightnin’, stands totterin’ before he crip- ples down. An’, speak of quick gun work! Son, with that range boss standin’ an’ this Bill fallin’, the latter, still shoots up the range boss three mors times. I'm nacherally watchin’, and the fire simply e e T e comes streamin’ from this Bill's muzzle. ““Shore, it pleases the old mother back in Hillsboro. I hears now, when she's told of this Bill's strong work, she ups en’ has two flower prop'sitions construct- ed in big frames an’ hangs 'em up on the wall; one for the Deacon an’ one for Bill.” Hirgd Silver 2and Sham Qakes at the Wedding Feast. i Qe SILVERSMITH observes that he makes more money by loaning ar- ticles than in the legitimate way of business. All kinds of silver and fancy ornaments are borrowed to make a grand show in the present-room. Many agticles still in his shop have real- 1zed their value over and over again, and are yet in condition for further service, says an English journal. For instance, a silver teapot of antique design has been out over thirty times and is good as new; teaspoons, carvers, mar- ble clocks, etc., are in constant demand, and as the goods are merely on show for a few days they come back unimpaired. Speaking of a recent wedding which caused some Sensation in the particular locality, the silversmith said: “A descrip- tion of the wedding gifts occupled half a column of newspaper print, one-third of the articles being borrowed from my establishment. Others were from differ- ent houses, and most likely a dozen or so were really presents. “I saw the lot tastefully arranged about the room, the borrowed ones ticketed with names of imaginary donors. Quite a crowd had gathered to see the wedding presents, which made a brave array. I warrant many of the young lady admirers feit envious at the particular good fortune of the bride. How they would enjoy them- selves if they knew the source from which the most handsome articles had been de- rived!" This is not an exceptional case, the loan- ing of wedding presents having become quite a trade. Then there is the wedding cake. Few brides are so humble that they cannot ob- tain some sort of cake for the occasion; but the grand cake, the huge confection with its lofty ornaments and orange wreaths, its cupids and silver leaves, is the one that it borrowed. Cakes of the massive order may be loaned, which possibly are not cakes at all. Nothing is there genuine about them, save the icing and the sugar cupids. One ‘bridecake has graced the breakfast tables of all sorts and conditions of brides, hav- ing been on the rounds for over two years, and with a little touching up seems as fresh and delectable as ever. The *“cake” is simply a round of cork eight inches deep and about the size of a small cheese. This is enameled white and thinly iced, piles of ornaments crown- ing it; follage and flowers embellish the sides—altogether a magnificent article for purposes of show. As the fee for its tem- porary possession is some few shillings, it proves a very profitable property. Genuine cakes are sometimes hired merely for table ornamentation. When these have lost their freshness they are cut up by the confectioner for sale by the pound. ‘Where a dummy cake is used thers is al- ways a small one to distribute among the guests, otherwise the bhandsome sham ‘would be regarded with suspicion. A cer- tain confectioner has generally thres or four imposing property cakes on hand. When & good order is given for sweets and pastry for the wedding feast, a sham bridecaks may be lent free to ormament the festive board. Very rich-looking shams are even made of paper—body, sugar work and flowers as well. So carefully turned out are they that ecloser inspection than is generally granted a bride cake is necessary to dis- cover the deception. The paper productions are cheap, and are to be purchased—mnot hired. A few shillings. t is said, will buy & beautiful imitatioa of & ten-guinea caks. America is responsible for their introduction. Actually dridal gowns and veils may be borrowed—an economical procesding for brides who cannot afford a big sum on & dress that is intended for a few hours’ wear. Swell bridesmalds, who bring their own elaborate dresses, are also willing to be hired. Their presence among strangers is sure to elicit wonder and admiration, which i1s exactly what those who like a showy wedding desire. % A LESSON ON THE CALL FOR TRUMPS IN WHIST 4% South. BY MRES. E P. SCHELL HE call or signal is & term usually applied only to & request for trumps. The simple call for trumps is given by the play of an unnecessarily high cerd and then & low one when you are making no effort to win the trick. For netance, if you play the seven to ace led, and to the king led the duce, you have reversed the usual order of play. It is a recognized convention of the game that you heve asked partner to lead you a trump &t the first opportunity. When you éo this you should be reasonably certain of making the odd trick at least. Strange es it may seem, one of the most difficult things for = beginner is to recognize a signal for trumps, and it is not an uncom- mon thing to hear the remark, “I know what a signal is, but T never see it.” If the student will only try registering the cards as they fall and not gaze into his hand, he capnot fail in time to recog- mize a signal. By registering, I mean the student should mentally call the cards to himself as they fall. Then if he finds his partner or opponent has played a lower card on the second round he has finished his call. The mere fact of holding four or five trumps is not sufficlent reason for issuing the command. Your only object in calling for trumps is to enable you to bring in a long suit or protect master cards in other suits, and you will ask for trumps just as promptly to make your partner’s suit as your own. You should be careful about calling upon the opponents’ lead, as they will see your signal as well as your partner, and they will play for a ruff or force you and in every way try to take advantage of the information you have given them. If you have a chance of getting in yourself it is often better not to expose your strength until you are in a position to do so. You often start a signal for trumps on oppo- nents’ lead, and from the fall of the cards you may be satisfied that it would be dan- gerous to complete it, and in that case you should abandon it. Fine players rarely make use of the sig- nal in its simplest form. There are many ways of informing your partner that you desire a trump led. If you pass a doubt- ful card it shows you hold four trumps, or three strong ones. If you refuse to be forced by partner, or pass a sure winning card, it is an imperative call for trumps. One of the best trumps signals is made by e single discard. The discard of an eight or above of a suit not yet led ‘would be & command for trumps. The effectiveness of this trump signal lles In the fact that it is made by the play of a single card, and if partner is in at the time, the call is answered at once, without giving the opponents an oppor- tunity to take advantage of the informa- tion in any way. This single-card call by discard is particularly forcible if made early in the play of the hand. If made late In the hand, it is subject to certain modifications made evident by the former play. There are certain conditions under which you may refuse to answer the call, espeoially if made late in the hand, if your right-hand opponent also comple a call at the same time, or by his play ghows strength in trumps. In this case it would be disastrous, as you would be leading up to the calling hand. L If, however, it is your left-hand adver- sary who has also called, you of course lead your best trump through him, as the position is in your favor and the very re- verse of the former. It 18 just as im- portant to know what card to lead in an~ swer to a call as to see a call. In my next article I will give the rules that gov- ern the different holdings and the trump echo. Refusing to answer the call. Three of clubs trumps, East to lead. North. A K, Q 4% H~J, 6 —3. D~J, T, 648 West. 8.~9, 6, 2. H.—5, 3, 2. {!:!-—Q, &7 C.—Q, 1,9, §, s 7. pog S DA K Q2 —_—_—nm e « New Feature of Interest to Photographers « There will appear on this page next week the first of a series of articles by an expert photogra- pher on “Photographic Pointers for Amateurs.” If you have a camera—and of course you have—it will be to your interest to cut out these articles as they are published and preserve them for reference. They will be clear, direct, and of the greatest practical value in enlightening you on just those points that have puzzled you in taking and making good pictures. Remember—next Sunday comes the first paper. Look out for it! Tk. N. w. 1 Qs 23 *As 6s 3. *Ks 9 4. *Jh 2h 5. 6h 8h 6. 2c 3c 7. 3 [ 8. 4s 5h 9. 3d *8c. 10. 4d *Je i1 6d 3 18 74 30 3. Jd *Qc North and South 9, East and West 4 Star denotes winning card, Trick one—South makes the single dis- card call. Trick two—North very judiclously re- fuses to-answer the call. He can safely g0 on with spades and giveiis partner an- :thqu. :.lletrd. North has no re-entry and ee] must make the spad not at all. PR Trick three—North keeps up the spades, as he has but one trump, and thinks it best to give South another discard. Ir either East or West Is void of spades, then one or the other must have held six orig- inally, which North considers is most un- likely. Trick four—South sult must be hearts, and North prefers to lead South the strengthening card in preference to the trump. Had North answered the call at this point he would have lost two tricks. Trick five—North of course goes on with hearts, giving South the advantage of the finesse against East. At tricks 6, 7, 8 and 9 South leads two rounds of trumps and then his hearts, forcing West's hand. At trick eleventh West leads five of dla- monds, which South ruffs with five of clubs. Tricks twelve and thirteen—South leads with ace of hearts, West ruffs with nine of clubs and leads the queen. Remarks—North plays with good judg- ment. It is, In exceptional cases, better to give partner a strengthesing card in his proclaimed suit than to lead the trump he has asked for, and it is nearly always right to give partner a chance--as North did here—to clear up his hand before an- swering his trump call