The San Francisco Call. Newspaper, March 18, 1906, Page 1

-day’s tssue of The Sun nll appears the second in- Iment of Albert E. Lyoms’ stest and most thrilllng novel—“Mister Bill"—a the cxelting periences of Western mining life aud the more important hases of m strike, portraying the methods of a cligue of Eastern speculators to take ad- ventage @f the trying times and guin comtrol of the properties around whick Mr. Lyoms has woven his interesting tale. The euthor has carefully welected his characters from everyday life and has produced In Mister Bfll” ome that will strongly appeal to the reader as & man of the timex. “Mister BIlI” will be concluded In six mes of The Sunday Caill. SOOI ISR g with ht by A OBAPTER X. Men Whe Are Tempted. ———— N 2 quiet corner cafe .of an the great two men at a ta- hotel etrop were seate true my Winst true—gerribly the sound is wumb. of when one nd see ever e word burned into ver; the word my very the elder man, compassion. . rmit me to remain here the very air- you desperately kind}: v do ¥ demanded. order me kicked into the are a stranger nterested in me ? What * he cried, despat nightmar, come?” you, need brating the assura “what is it all about Ah, sir, it is ame old poor fellow, with hesitating reluctance, “you can read our side; it w will be th 1ld make money about me made hund a day—an hour—why Oh! it makes me sick at heart to tell this ame old story you know so well. I i them make their money—handled for them—was enveloped in the very shere of ekcitement and success. [ it, and became intoxicated. Yes, I would take 8 hand-in the game— just & small hand. 1 would.be satisfied with a little where others reached out for thousands. For a few. days all went well. 1 could see visions of the happy home I had planned and dreamed of growing nearer and brighter. A little more risk and a short cut across the of monotonous toil befove me— nothing havé. , sir! those words that have stilled for the moment the small protesting yoice within. Only a thousand—but one of the many thousends lying idle, and no harm to use for & day or two. The market took & sudden turn, and the great wave that had been carrying al before it to suc- cess and riches, suddenly faltered, turned and began to recede. But it would return ful paper by y all housands 1 ediately—surely, surely, 1t must come back. Another thousand to protect the first—another to save the two. You, s know the rest. The tide never turned, and before I could release myself from its grasp four thousand dollars had been swept away. Not a large sum, to be sure, but not a penny of it was mine, and it might well be ten times the amount s to make it good. The e discovered at any moment, rarely a conspicuous fea- ture of wretchedness. Who suffers with you? h, sir! if T alone could suffer the consequences of my folly. The thought that beats on my brain with every heart throb and vibrates through my whole- be- ing is the shame and anguish that I have brought upon those dear to me. In spite of my boasted strength and the example so often before-me;.in spite of the duty I owed my dear old mother and her faith- ful teachings—God knows she taught me well and true, and her heart would break if she knew that I had even been tempt- «ed; and my sister, who believes the heav- ens would fall before her brother could forget his honar; and one—one to whom I owe more than life itself, and who would rather ses me dead than dishon- ored; vet, in spite of all I am no better than the fellow of the streets . who =natches a purse and sneaks away. To- night I had been haunting the docks, wendering Into low saloons, sallors’ boarding-houses and the dirty tenement districts on the water front. The places 1 loathe seemed to possess a strange fas- cination for me. I envied the drunken sailors; laughed at their brawls and curses, and cursed back at them. Why I AAT'S \WHO TAEL) SAT . = JACK WINSTON 15 A THIEF 7 was permitted to leav: alive is more than I can understand. was the irony of fate, for I should have welcomed a blow to qulet my throbbing brain, or a knife thrust to still my ach- ing heart; but even that was denied me. I envied the little ragged urchins of the street, and would gladly have exchanged places with them. Even the meanest and slimfest things that crawled and slunk into their holes seemed better than they were at least true to their na- tures, while I had forfeited the right to mine and all that made life worth the living. I had twice walked down the docks and looked into the black waters, but each time I saw three faces looking up at me out of the darkness below, and heard the same accusing voice calling me coward—coward—and I slowly ‘retraced my steps. I think 1 was gradually losing my mind. The terrible throbbing in my head seemed o create strange fancles. Then I ran agalnst you, for I took small heed of my steps. Your voice aroused me from my trance or stupor. That you were a detective was my first intelligible thought, and I think I felt rather a re- lief; but a second glance, your grip and the people coming from the ferry told me that you were a traveler. I was starting on with a mumbled apology for running you down, when you took me by the arm and said that I seemed rather out of sorts and . had better ride up town with you. I hesitated an instant, and then stepped Into your cab and —well, here I am, without eny volition of my own, and simply doing your bidding. You have been good to me, sir; you have finished your dinner and I—I must be go- . Standing before the long glass doors of TIUAT a brilliantly lighted living room, a young s gazed steadfastly out into the night. ¥er left hand, with forefinger inserted in 2 hook, d on her hip, while the fin- gers of her right hand toyed impatiently With the long beaded chain hanging about her neck. Suddenly starting from her reverie, she glanced at a clock on the mantel industriously ticking the minutes red the hour with the ece nestling in her belt. Evi- dently little satistaction was derived from the comparison, as she glanced Im- patientiy at the other occupants of the room, heaved a very large sigh for so little a girl, and again directed her atten- tlon outward. No sign of them vet, my dear?’ in- quired. the. mother. looking up from her wing. “Thdy will .soon be here, I am sure,” she added, by way of encourege- ment to the impatient watcher. “Oh, dear! Who first discovered .that patlence was & virtue—a man I'll wager,” petulantly retorted the young miss. *‘At all events, it is a virtue, my dear,’ said the mother, with gentle reproval “I have simply been counting the minutes since tea,- and the hands just seem to creep around the facs of that hateful little clock—and it's such a small face, the offending timepiece as if that partic- ular dial might speed the minutes faster were it better disposed. “And besides, they may not come after all-men are so very uncertain.” “Why, Edith, has your very brief ex- perience with the world made you cynic?” inquired the last occupant of the room, glancing up from her work with a smile of amused surprise. “I must say I have my doubts some- times, Maude. Somehow. a girl seems forever ,going, the ‘opposite way to the rest of the world—it's positively al ing.” The world goes its way regardless. of fine distinctions and womanly ideals,” my said Maude, a little more serious- and when one of our ideals is shat- tered, we immedlately set up another— it is a woman's prerogative.” “I am beginning to think that girls’ {deals are awfully soap-bubbly things' anyway. They just grow and grow until they seem to radiate all the colors of the rainbow, and when you think them quite perfect—zip! they burst before your very eyes. But they are rather nice while they she admitted, with evident reluc- dear?” inquired M‘\Id'. with kindly in- terest. “Indeed they have!" spiritedly replied the young miss, “and now I just natural- ly expect the—zip! I put all my bubbles into my diary—a record of men, if you please—their deeds and misdeeds,” she explained quite seriously. = “You have reduced mankind to a sys- too,” she protested, contemplating - tem of ledger footings. and ca @ value of the Individual at Inquired Maude. Indeed I can! Somse boys seem to think they are making impression on a girl by prom! of things: -a sailing par book, ‘a- box of candy or & bunch of vio- lets, and the thought never s cur to them that the girl m nough to take them serious W yourself, Maude Spence girl never forgets. She just wai waits, until each Httle violet becomes large as a chrysanthemum, and when they don’t come, and still don't ceme, they begin to grow:smaller and smaller until they get to be mighty small, but not nearly, so small as the man in her e timation.. S0 now when a man or a boy falls to keep| his promise, away he goes on to the blacklist, and I don't recognjze him—cut him dead—and he does not get & second chance o fool Edith Winston— not if she knows it.” ‘“You' are right, my dea laughed Maude, ‘‘a girl does remember. Perhaps if she remembered and believed less she might be saved many disappointments,” she added, more soberly. ar,”’ gently . Interposed - the '0Ou must remember that you have a brother, and I am sure ygu would not wish to be disloyal to him. “Dear old-Jack, of course not! But he is a man. apd all men leave a great deal to be desired according to my ideas,” re- plied the young .phllosopher, with a siy glance at Maude. . here did the child get such ideas?” exclaimed- Mrs, Winston, quite startled at this display of worldly wisdom. “I am sure, my dear, T have ever led you to believs. that many men are good and noble, and to be the wife of such a man is as great a happiness as you are des- tined to kno’ “Yes, mamma, you have. Most girls are led to believe that men are very su- perfor creatures, and to secure one for a husband, the great desideratum—the grand fimale of our lives,” a demure bow and sweeping movement of the arm lend- ing additlonal emphasis to the grandeur of the possibilities. 'We must do this, because men like that sort of thing; we must not do. that, because their lordships might object; we must consider their likes and dislikes, and make their will our law; in short, cease to exist only as our lives may bestow some greater bene- faction upon our lords and masters. And when we say our prayers we know not ‘whether to ask first for our daily bread or —a husband.” “Edith, this is shamefull” “Indeed it is, mamma.” replied this sad minx, knowing full well thdt she was misinterpreting the iftent of her mother's protest, “and the result is," she con- tinued, with profound assurance, *“the men are placed on a pedestal and girls tell the and men, t00 \ great 1sly - permitted to gather n lacense at the masculine to some enlightenment o bject, my dear.” sald Mrs. Winston, regarding her daughter with seant approval. “It is quite true, mamma, and when the the poor men have been . suffi- n t with the sense of their very great impertance down they drop one after-another and are finally carried away in triumph to the tune of—'" and here the young miss seated herself at the piano and proceeded to bring forth, rathes more energetically than artistically. the strains of a familiar wedding march, hat will do, Edith!” peremptorily in- terposed Mrs. Winston, abruptly terminat. ing this sacrileglous demonstration. “Your mother requires- time to refleet upon the very superior knowledge possessed by her daughter,”” and addressing Maude for the benefit of the arch conspirator, who was sflenced, if not subdued, sad: “It is extremely embarrassing. not to say humiliating, to suddenly discover that one is not keeping pace with one’s daughter iu worldly matters. Verily the blind lead the blind.” Not ‘many\ minutes elapsed. howevenr, before the thoughts of the young miss again found audible expressiom. “Just the same, I don't think that Jack has behaved -very well. IHe has mnot been home for three weeks and I think he might have come sooner.” ‘You must remember. my dear, that your brother is now a man with dutles and respondibilities which demand his first consideration. Business is a severs taskmaster, and I am sure he is coming home at the very first opperfunity his duties permit. Besides,” her dyes resting tenderly upon Maude, “we know the very great incentive he now has to put forth his very best efforts—the highest and noblest in a man’s life—to make a homs for the woman he loves, and win an hon- orable place among men that she may be proud of her husband. And when Jack is compelled to be away from those he loves to accomplish all this we must help him_ to be brave and not add our little worrfes to his. I am sure he will sue- ceed, and you, my desr, are as anxious to assist him and will be as proud of his success as any of us." “Of course.I am, and of course I will! exclalmed true blue little sister. fack 18 just the dearest and best brother in the whole werld and Maude is the luckisst girl to get him. she had better know, and I am jealous—very jealous indeed.” And to show how. very terribly the green-eyed monster possessed her dear little self she leaned over the back of Maude's chair, and laying her fresh young face against the comscious flushes of Jack's affanced wife, informed ber that she would heaps rather have her for a sister than any girl she ever knew, which declaration of peace and good will was duly ratified and sealed according to prescribed feminine form. “Ye Maude, when she had been released from the suffocating em- brace of the young impulsive, “I kmow