THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 Mrs. William A. Nitze
 
 THE EGERTON-PALMER PRESS 
 
 CHICAGO-DENVER
 
 " That cross will probably stand for centuries.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 A Creation, Presenting Various 
 
 Aspects of the Greater Drama 
 
 By 
 
 CHARLES EDWIN HEWES 
 
 ILLUSTRATED 
 
 THE EGERTON-P AL M E R PRESS 
 
 1910 
 CHICAGO-DENVER 
 
 All Rights Reserved
 
 Copyright 1910 
 
 By 
 CHARLES EDWIN HEWES
 
 This volume is dedicated to 
 
 MR. PAUL THIEMAN. 
 
 "He was my friend."
 
 PS 
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 PART I 
 
 A FOOT OF GRANITE 
 
 BOOK I The 40 Rounds Page 3 
 
 BOOK II The Nest That Shakes in the Wind Page 19 
 
 BOOK III The Invasion of Polish Page 29 
 
 BOOK IV The Heart of the Emerald Page 41 
 
 PART II 
 
 THE SKY-LINE OF THE VAST 
 
 BOOK I The Gravedigger and the Star Page 57 
 
 BOOK II The Chamber of the Virgins Page 75 
 
 BOOK III The Cross Among the Pines Page 85 
 
 BOOK IV The Phenomena of a Shadow Page 117 
 
 PART III 
 
 THE FIRST PLATER IN THE ROLE WHICH GLORIFIES AN ILLUSTRIOUS 
 
 NATION 
 
 BOOK I The Pot That Boils a Mountain Page 217 
 
 BOOK II The Successors of W. W. W Page 279 
 
 BOOK III The Measure of a Paunch Page 329 
 
 BOOK IV The Line of the Rockies Page 427 
 
 BOOK V The Visitation of the Ten Thousand Mouths. Page 511 

 
 LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 " That cross will probably stand for centuries." Frontispiece. 
 
 " And turning to the sheer blank wall, he drove the pick at it 
 with almost superhuman force." Page 53. 
 
 " The fearful consuming depths of the monster seemed to fas 
 cinate him strangely." Page 467.
 
 PERSONAL 
 
 THIS volume has been seven years in preparation. Ac 
 tually I have spent only about one-quarter of that time 
 upon the manuscript, for during the entire period I have 
 had to earn bread, clothes, and the balance of those necessities 
 which make up a working-man's living. Thanks, however, to 
 the wonderful mechanics of the soul as I have learned them, 
 I have never been so deeply engrossed in the problem of the 
 living, but that some creature of thought has enlightened and 
 instructed me in my work, whether I was ranching, selling 
 groceries, driving stage, mining, or billing express. Yea, even 
 tho I slept, thoughts were active in my dreams, so that it 
 would seem as tho I had really spent full seven years upon the 
 work in its relationship to thought. 
 
 The gradually growing manuscript of these years was hidden 
 and deposited in many places. When too poor to rent a safety 
 deposit box, I kept the manuscript in old coffee cans placed 
 under a flagstone of our cellar. I have had it in stone jars, 
 bread cans, old trunks, valises, and various other ready recept 
 acles in the many changes of home I have been forced to make. 
 For one particular receptacle I contracted a profound disgust. 
 It was an old chest reeking with the odor of musk. I did not 
 at that time know the potency of that particularly vigorous 
 scent. What a powerful line of descent as well as scent it 
 possesses, for it was handed down from one generation of 
 manuscript to another 1 , until it actually took printers' ink itself 
 to master it. 
 
 I have had the manuscript in cities, in the country, on the 
 ocean, and in the mountains; in fact, it has been my "Old Man 
 of the Sea," clinging to me with unshakable tenacity; and too, 
 the subject of many an adventure. Once it was dropped in 
 the street late at night by a prominent journalist whom I had 
 inveigled into reading it. And it would seem as if the fates 
 had at last consented to rid me of my burden by his kindly 
 burying it in oblivion. But alas, it was rescued from where it 
 
 xiii
 
 xiv PERSONAL 
 
 fell a mud puddle, by a kind man the next morning and duly 
 returned to me. 
 
 When I had money I hired a typist to write my copy; when 
 I was without money I did it myself. Once, after the mud 
 puddle incident, I paid a typist in advance to furnish me a 
 new copy. She started bravely upon it, but got so sick of the 
 job that she quit it quite unceremoniously. I felt so sorry for 
 her and well knowing that nature had decreed me to be a 
 henpecked man, tho not married that I never asked her for 
 an explanation or for the return of my hard-earned money, 
 which she kept, thinking I suppose, that she had more than 
 earned it in doing what little she did. I trust the reader will 
 not think ill of me when I confess that I never employed but 
 the one typist, and my only excuse for that is, at that particular 
 time I had a steady job for as much as sixty days, and my 
 feelings of munificence quite got the better of me. 
 
 In spite of the uncertain income which I enjoyed during these 
 seven years, I nevertheless was a living example of ancient 
 Croesus many times magnified. My mother has often remarked, 
 that it would be impossible to describe the supreme self-suffi 
 ciency and untold millions of wealth which illumed my smile, 
 when returning, bewhiskered, unkempt, and ragged from some 
 unknown quarter of the world, and holding my child a fresh 
 bundle of manuscript tightly in my arms, I would greet her 
 with a fond caress and unfold with the air of an emperor before 
 her indulgent eyes, a few quires of apparently undecipherable 
 hieroglyphics. The longer my beard, the more devoted to my 
 charge. The thinner I became, the plumper and more rounded 
 the form of the child. Reduced to a shadow myself, my child 
 attained generous proportions. The balder I grew, the more 
 luxuriant grew the golden locks of my adored one. 
 
 The most terrible moment of my life was upon the fatal day 
 that I chanced to read in a stray biographical sketch of Thomas 
 Carlyle, of the loss of one of his manuscripts by fire. If if 
 the like should happen to mine. Perish my darling child, and 
 I left comfortless. Also the sad fate of the author of "David 
 Harum" made a great impression upon me; and for months I 
 brooded and feared that I too might pass away before my child 
 would be immortalized in printer's ink. 
 
 Beautiful as my darling was to me, however, others thought
 
 PERSONAL xv 
 
 different. No matter what pretty gowns I bought for her, tho 
 I confess I could only afford calico and gingham; or how under 
 my appeal she behaved her sweetest and looked her best, still 
 others thought different. I have implored at least twenty pub 
 lishers to publish this work, but without avail. What! I a 
 mere working-man and my child only a poor girl of the masses, 
 and the world filled with talent and genius. Nay! Not for 
 you, my dear sir. Pass on, you and your brat. Make way for 
 the beauties of the salon and the drawing-room. 
 
 Finally a friend, whose modesty compels me to conceal his 
 identity in the press name of this volume, took pity on me, and 
 even allowed me to select the paper, type, and binding of my 
 adored one. His was a case of the unjust judge. "Lest her con 
 tinual coming weary me, I will avenge her of her adversary." 
 
 I have written this personal account expressly for the benefit 
 and encouragement of those of my fellow workmen, who, like 
 myself perhaps, laboring for years to express an idea, however 
 homely or simple it may be; may not despair, but patiently 
 plod on to a late but well earned victory. Victory in this case 
 being not that of popularity, praise, or acceptance by the public; 
 but that of being heard publication; that of standing up in 
 the forum of Public Opinion and sturdily lifting up one's voice 
 for what he believes to be the truth. 
 
 Believe me, dear friends, no grave is so awful as the grave 
 that smothers a voice which was not heard. When this world is 
 judged, who knows but that it will be by those same gentle 
 voices, which, hushed and crushed into untimely graves by a 
 brutal unheeding humanity, nevertheless were heard by the great 
 God of Israel, and their words emblazoned upon the shining 
 heights of heaven for the rebuke of their inhuman brethren. 
 Tortoise, dear friends, tortoise. It was the painfully plodding 
 tortoise, not the dashing hare.
 
 PREFACE 
 
 THIS volume is published as a protest against, and a 
 challenge to, what the author terms the spirit and wor 
 ship of cleverness and commercialism in our modern 
 fiction. Three leading factors have brought us low in this respect ; 
 the public, the publisher, and the author. The public demands, 
 the publisher insists, and the author produces, as the result of 
 the insistence and the influence of the former two, that con 
 coction of charlatanism, sensationalism, and get-the-money-ism, 
 which makes up the arch foe of all true art cleverness. 
 
 Within the lifetime of the author he has observed a writer 
 widely acclaimed and feted because she said that she admired 
 and loved the devil. Another writer gained considerable notoriety 
 and the shekels of a portion of our populace in a revival of 
 Adamic and cave-man life. And later both of the above men 
 tioned parties, the devil-woman and the cave-man, have devoted 
 themselves to the reporting of prize-fighting. Another writer's 
 first claim to notoriety was in his publication of a false death 
 notice in a New York paper and the hoaxing of the public in 
 the purchasing and reading of an autobiography of the sup 
 posed victim. Still another preyed upon the superstitious por 
 tion of the public, by joining two supposedly unpropitious 
 dates of the calendar as the title of his volume; and then offer 
 ing the gambling element of the public a chance by offering a 
 large reward for the best review of the work. Another writer, 
 and one whom the public greatly and truly respects, wrote a 
 novel of the Civil War giving it a title that would suggest a 
 full portrayal of that terrible crisis, and yet never fought or 
 described a battle in it. 
 
 These are but mere instances noted by chance of almost the 
 entire fabric of our modern fiction. 
 
 It is also of comparatively common occurrence to note new 
 books of fiction advertised simultaneously with the publisher's 
 announcements, as "the best book since Ben Hur," "declared 
 by critics to be the greatest American novel," "the novel of 
 
 xvii
 
 xviii PREFACE 
 
 the Age," "a work that will live," "you cannot lay it down 
 until you have finished it," "the American Dickens has appeared." 
 The columns of the newspapers and reviews of today fairly 
 teem with such absurd egotism and sophistry, and so great has 
 become the worship of this false god, Cleverness, nowadays, both 
 in the writing and publication of fiction, that plain honest effort, 
 true wit, and worthy endeavors in the development of real art 
 in fiction, seem never to succeed in winning the public, unless 
 they too, stoop to the charlatanism of Cleverness, by twisting 
 and turning an otherwise perfectly legitimate and commendable 
 effort, so as to have it declared clever, even if it was only in that 
 last carefully strained for twist; and that supreme and wholly 
 false idea, that it must be declared clever above everything else, 
 or the effort is doomed to failure. 
 
 The worship of Cleverness springs from that artificial life of 
 unsatisfied wealth and neglected time, known as Society. 
 
 Society is an itch, which Cleverness scratches. 
 
 Enter the social structure anywhere, from the nation's capitol 
 to the county-seat, from the metropolis to the smallest commer 
 cial center, and you enter a smothered fetid world of lavender 
 and silk which covers an unsatisfied, unholy itch, seeking not to 
 be cured, but rather to be irritated; and that much sought for 
 irritant is Cleverness. 
 
 The only cure for the social itch is the courage of Society 
 to live the life of the plain people, and the dominant principle 
 of thftt life is plain truth, loved, sought, and lived. 
 
 Cleverness is the arch dodger, the beat-it-around-the-corner, the 
 sneak-thru-the-grass. 
 
 It possesses no healthy spirit of, "Come on, boys, let's meet 
 the issue fairly and fight it out." 
 
 No! "It's come, let's make a bluff, and make our get away." 
 It's the, "Deny it," "Nothing to say," attitude, rather than the, 
 "Let's talk it over," "What can I do for you?" 
 
 Babylon, Greece, Rome, and the French monarchy, all fell 
 thru the rottenness of the social structure, and that decay first 
 began with the worship of the false god, Cleverness. 
 
 The itch became a sore, the sore a disease, the disease death. 
 
 Art must have greater ideal than cleverness. Much as the 
 geisha may clothe and conceal herself in the witchery of dress, 
 endeavoring to accentuate her charms in a marvel of lingerie;
 
 PREFACE xix 
 
 yet those students who break in the door, roughly strip her as 
 they would a fowl of its feathers, and view her as she really is 
 naked and unadorned save by her natural beauty. 
 
 Art is the meat of a subject, Cleverness is only its dress. 
 Dress, of course, has its art, but it is not the geisha, it is merely 
 the dress. 
 
 Cleverness is the mistaking of the dress for the geisha the 
 subject. 
 
 And thus in fiction, we are losing the real things in the 
 witchery, the loveliness of the gowns they are shown in. 
 
 When we will have abandoned the worship of dress for that 
 of the subject, we will again have gained the true course of art. 
 
 Turning to current fiction, one will scarce find a department 
 of it that evidences the least show of progress in comparison 
 with other departments of literature. Science, religion, politics, 
 commerce, history, travel, are all steadily advancing in progres 
 sive merit. Fiction alone, unless poesy may be included, seems 
 to be declining. 
 
 The reason? 
 
 It is following a false god Cleverness. 
 
 Let its producers turn to the true things, therefore, and put 
 it abreast of the times. And more, it being so largely the domain 
 of invention, imagination, and anticipation, it should lead all 
 departments of literature instead of following. 
 
 I don't know when or where I first met the Idea which I 
 have endeavored to present in this preface, but I fancy I met 
 her in one of those great towns of the soul; a mighty London, 
 filled with the roar and traffic of a vast horde of humanity. It 
 was night I remember, and she was standing on the corner of a 
 crowded thorofare beneath the flaring jet of an old-fashioned 
 street lamp. The wind was restless, and the rain beating 
 fiercely at times upon the window-panes, was cold and dismal. 
 
 I was young at the time, and seemed to have very bright 
 prospects ahead of me. I had thought that I might win a fair 
 beautiful bride, a nice home filled with all those things which 
 husband and wife hold precious, and gain the esteem and good 
 will of my neighbors thru a long and happy life. But out 
 of sympathy for she whom I thus met under 'the gas-jet in the
 
 xx PREFACE 
 
 rain, I abandoned my bright prospects in life, and served this 
 Idea; this woman of sad and serious mien, she whom I grew 
 to love and venerate so dearly, that for lack of a closer name, 
 I called her, "Mother." 
 
 She said it was not for her sake that she accepted my service, 
 but for the sake of the many orphaned children whom she 
 housed in her hut on the edge of the great town, and which was 
 set where a broad plain swept up from the river and joined a 
 great dark wood. 
 
 "It is for these children, not myself, that I would accept your 
 service, my youth," she said, "they are not mine, they are the 
 children of those parents who shamelessly deserted them, follow 
 ing after the fortunes of that great lord of the world, Cleverness ; 
 but whom I know to be a mere charlatan, an adventurer, living 
 off the fortunes of those dupes whom he hath lured unto him. 
 These children of theirs are really fine children, the fruit of 
 their best and happiest years. Oh! If they had only stayed 
 and looked after and developed and been patient and good to 
 them, instead of abandoning them, what true and beautiful 
 characters they might have become, and how bright they would 
 have shone in my world; for I I am Mother Art," she said, 
 smiling sweetly, "and I cannot return to my royal palace to 
 enjoy the welcome and homage of my loyal subjects until these 
 little deserted orphans have all been cared for." 
 
 I served the great mother, lo, these many years. Not, dear 
 reader, as a man of class or distinction or even promise. I was 
 merely her swineherd, feeding the swine at the pens, the fowls 
 in the yard, milking the cows, and tending the garden. In the 
 fall I went into the wood and cut great logs for the winter's 
 fire. Also to the town I drove regularly, purchasing provisions 
 and clothing for the children. It was toil. Oh! What toil! 
 For mother depended upon me entirely. I grew thin and bald, 
 my hands hard and calloused; often I fainted from fatigue, and 
 my soul was weary. However, it took only a cheering word 
 from mother to revive me, and, too, no matter how hard I might 
 work, she was always working the more. What cooking and 
 mending. What patience and tender solicitude for the children. 
 Occasionally we had visitors; they must be important people I 
 thought, for their faces shone as though they lived in a happy 
 land; and once when a robe fell from the shoulder of one, its
 
 PREFACE xxi 
 
 figure shone so that it dazzled my eyes. I asked mother once 
 who they were, and she said they were angels come to tell her 
 of the affairs of her distant court. 
 
 "Mother," I said one day, "I am sick unto death. I fear I 
 shall never get well. I have worn myself out in helping you 
 with the children. My only regret is that I cannot stay with 
 you always, you are so sweet and unselfish; and, too, I would 
 like to stay and see how beautiful and grand the children will 
 be when they are grown up." 
 
 "My son, my son," she replied, "Your task has, indeed, been 
 hard, but it is done. Tomorrow I shall take the children to my 
 royal palace and they shall be with me forever, for their parents, 
 by reason of the lapse of time, have forfeited all right to them, 
 and they belong to me. I call them, the real the true children 
 of Art, and no writer who has abandoned such as these for the 
 false pleasures of the court of Cleverness, can ever hope to 
 regain them." 
 
 " Mother," I replied, " Once I had hoped that I might see your 
 beautiful palace, but, alas, it is too late now for I am dying, 
 mother." 
 
 " My son, my dear faithful son," she said, and how her words 
 thrilled me and gave me solace even as I was drooping, " You 
 will indeed die, but only to live again and enter a new world. 
 My world, dear son, the beautiful world of Art; the realm of 
 delight, of beauty, and of truth. I have never told you your 
 name, my son, but I will now, for you have earned it. It is, 
 DUTY, dear son; the plodding, faithful, patient burden carrier 
 of the soul." 
 
 "And will I be strong and handsome in this new world, dear 
 mother?" I asked, "you know that when I first met you it was 
 my plan to be a real knight, with shining armor and wielding 
 a great lance wherewith I might win a beautiful bride and live 
 as other men have done. But, oh, this toil, dear mother, it has 
 made me old and stiff, and my body stooped and bowed." 
 
 " My son, have you never heard, that the most beautiful 
 princess in existence is yet to be won, and that you alone can 
 win her. In our new world you shall gain everything that you 
 were denied in this world. Your body will be strong and beauti 
 ful. Your face handsome and bright. Your armor all shining 
 and golden hangs in my palace. Your steed fit and mighty
 
 xxii PREFACE 
 
 for the field is even now galloping upon the palace green, and 
 your bride awaits you at the pavilion of the tourney, where no 
 foe can hope to resist you, and all shall yield and hail you as 
 victor." 
 
 "And and what is her name, dear mother?" I cried, even 
 as I lay dying. 
 
 " The only bride that is fit for the world's greatest hero, 
 DUTY, my son, is LOVE, and she is yours." 
 
 " Love, love," I cried, "Oh ! How beautiful ! I am glad that 
 I served you, good mother."
 
 INTRODUCTION 
 
 PROBABLY the most intensely interesting and perplexing 
 question which has agitated the students and philosophers 
 of all the peoples and ages of the earth, is that of the 
 operation and the differentiation of that marvelous entity, the 
 mind. 
 
 What mighty scholars have tried to crack that adamantine 
 nut, the soul? 
 
 What millions of earnest and entreating individuals have en 
 deavored to ferret out that master secret, the spirit? 
 
 In Judaic-Christian history, God proclaimed Himself unto 
 Moses as, "I am that I am." Centuries later the Christ pro 
 claimed that, "God is a spirit," and today, after a well connected 
 history of several thousand years in which notable instances 
 similar to the above could be mentioned in the narratives of 
 other histories and peoples, man sits before this appalling 
 mystery in helpless and despairing contemplation, pathetically 
 repeating the words of Descartes, "I think, therefore I am," 
 as if they at least granted him the proof of existence. And 
 very often, such is the extremity of his tremor and travail, he 
 pleads, "Surely, surely, dear Lord, this is I," and yet, pinching 
 himself till the very creature cries out in pain, he doubts; alas, 
 he still doubts. 
 
 It is not, therefore, the intention of the author to inflict an 
 already overburdened humanity with strange, startling, or pe 
 culiar ideas upon this important subject, but rather to introduce 
 the uninitiated into that peculiarly charming circle of fascina 
 tion, whose terrors and they are many have not as yet in 
 the author's experience, outweighed its sublime beauties and 
 unspeakable delights. And while the author feels the necessity 
 of subscribing a few remarks relative to the scheme of his work, 
 yet he does so entirely in the role of a poor and humble workman 
 endeavoring to describe the mechanics of his creation, and not 
 in the guise of an austere and learned metaphysician. 
 
 Briefly told, the scheme of The Theatre Terrible is as follows: 
 
 xxiii
 
 xxiv INTRODUCTION 
 
 the soul is a THEATRE, in which thoughts are the PLAYERS, 
 and the spirit, or ego, is the SPECTATOR. 
 
 This peculiar differentiation is accounted for thusly; the soul 
 is looked upon as strictly the containing thing: i. e., containing 
 the world of thought. It is the domain of thought, that in 
 which thought acts. It is to thought what the universe is to 
 matter. It contains and is the field of all action of thought 
 just as the universe is the field of all action of matter. Ap 
 parently it has within it all knowledge, yet the spirit, or ego, 
 may discover within it and comprehend only a very small por 
 tion of the whole. Exactly as man has discovered very little 
 of the universe compared with that which remains to be dis 
 covered, so his spirit is limited in its discoveries in the vast 
 recesses of his soul. 
 
 Thoughts are the players of the soul. They take the form, 
 character, and personality of every conceivable thing. They 
 are the creatures of the soul world, just as there are creatures 
 of the material world. They inhabit the soul world just as posi 
 tively and with as distinct individualities and natures as do the 
 material creatures of the material world. 
 
 The spirit, or ego, the "I AM" of man, is the spectator within 
 the soul; and is the monarch, the lord, and the steward of the 
 soul, within the prescribed limits and nature of that soul world 
 to which it is born. Just as a man is limited by nature to his 
 actions in the material world, opposed and battled against by 
 other men and conditions; just so his spirit has prescribed limits 
 in the world of the soul, meeting opposing forces of thought and 
 conditions, until often the conflict of thoughts within the soul 
 of an individual, affecting and influencing his spirit, is one of 
 appalling significance, affecting whole families, communities, and 
 nations. 
 
 The supreme and chief function of the spirit, or ego, of man, 
 is consciousness, and its two most important attributes are will 
 and reason. 
 
 Will is the power militant of the spirit; the hunter, the pur 
 suer, and the capturer of thoughts upon whatever continent, 
 sphere, or domain of the soul it is fitted and permitted within 
 the limits of its nature to travel. 
 
 Reason is the power contemplative and reflective of the spirit; 
 the scientist, the logician; who observes, classifies, compares, and 
 utilizes those thoughts which Will has captured.
 
 INTRODUCTION xxv 
 
 Emotion is the effect of thought upon consciousness. 
 
 By mind is meant the entire phenomenon and association of 
 soul, thought, and spirit. 
 
 A man is good or bad, exactly in that proportion in which 
 his spirit has inherited good or bad, together with its ability 
 to absorb and apply good thoughts and reject evil ones, and 
 vice versa, 
 
 Because a bad thought enters and parades the stage of one's 
 soul, it is no sign that a man is bad. He is bad or good only 
 as his spirit accepts good or bad. 
 
 Herein rests the absolute sublimnity and terribleness of the 
 Greater Drama of The Theatre Terrible; with the fate and 
 salvation of a living, conscious, glorious spirit at stake in the 
 awful clutch and throttle of hell's most lascivious and malevolent 
 fiends and heaven's fairest and mightiest angels. 
 
 Herein the greatest dramas of existence take place, whether in 
 the soul of man or in the awful soul of God; even the humblest 
 of souls presenting the appalling spectacle of a drama so intense 
 as to agitate unto the utmost concern the watchers and onlookers 
 of both heaven and hell. 
 
 Truth, God's perfect law, is the spirit's saviour; Evil, its 
 destroyer. 
 
 God, the Great Spirit, is a living and all glorious universal 
 Father. 
 
 No man who has not attained and enthroned Truth within 
 his soul, can ever hope to enjoy His presence; but with Truth 
 once attained it necessarily follows that God, as the Sovereign 
 of Truth, also becomes enthroned within the soul. 
 
 God communicates directly with man thru the medium of 
 thought, which communication is invariably accompanied with 
 man's unmistakable perception and consciousness of the Divine 
 Presence. 
 
 The greatest of human delights is the knowledge of and the 
 adoration of God. The greatest of all emotions is induced by 
 the visitation of the Divine Presence. 
 
 The soul is immortal. 
 
 It is a book of record which God reads at a glance, and that 
 record is the thought inscribed therein, and that thought repre 
 sents the stewardship of the spirit, and by it the soul is judged.
 
 xxvi INTRODUCTION 
 
 With full knowledge and consciousness of the mechanism of 
 the soul as ahove described, man actually holds the keys of 
 heaven and hell within his grasp. He may ponder and debate 
 ever so earnestly the ethics of the soul, from Moses to Emerson, 
 but of its mechanism he need no longer have a doubt. 
 
 CHARLES EDWIN HEWES, 
 
 Estes Park, Colorado.
 
 PART ONE 
 
 A FOOT OF GRANITE
 
 BOOK ONE 
 
 THE 40 ROUNDS 
 
 THE last hole father," said Standish. 
 " Well it's a good one, my boy. Better than the 
 first, yea, better than the one just before it," said 
 Peter, carefully examining the hole. " You have become 
 an expert, Standish. There isn't another man in Clear 
 Creek County who could drive those holes as deep and 
 true in the same length of time." 
 
 After Standish had finished tamping the charge and 
 arranged the fuse, both father and son stood silently for 
 a moment, looking at the solid granite breast of the tun 
 nel, which would soon be rent by the discharge of the con 
 quering dynamite. Then they carried the drills and tools 
 several yards toward the mouth of the tunnel, and, return 
 ing, Standish lighted the fuse. Five minutes later the 
 two men emerged into the bright Colorado sunshine, until 
 the tunnel cleared itself of the smoke and gases caused by 
 the explosion. 
 
 Peter Brown was not a very old man, but rheumatism 
 and wounds contracted in the great war of the Rebellion, 
 
 thru which he had served as a private in the th, Iowa, 
 
 had reduced him to the physical weakness of old age. His 
 entire life had been one of privations and sorrows, and at 
 the decease of an adorable wife, he had passionately craved 
 a change of scene and climate for both his physical and 
 mental welfare. 
 
 Disposing of his few possessions in the little Iowa hamlet 
 where he had followed the vocation of a coal miner since 
 his discharge from the army, he had one day purchased 
 tickets for both himself and only child, Standish, a young 
 man of twenty years, and amid the farewells and felici 
 tations of their neighbors and Peter's old army comrades, 
 they had taken the Overland train for Denver. Arriving
 
 4 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 safely in the mountain metropolis, Peter was at once at 
 tracted by hand bills and posters, announcing a cheap ex 
 cursion of the C. C. & U. By., to the new mining camp 
 of Plume, its western terminus. 
 
 Peter had always admitted one weakness, and that was 
 mining. It fascinated him. He had long picked the thin 
 bituminous coal strata of his native state, but this common 
 product was at that time a drug on the market. Its value 
 never changed save for an occasional slight fluctuation in 
 the market caused by some local condition. True, one 
 could make a living at coal mining, but hardly a fortune, 
 confronted as the producer was with numerous competitors 
 and a large acreage open to development on every hand. 
 Peter Brown's dream had always been to face the precious 
 metals in their native fastnesses, and he had often men 
 tioned this desire to his wife. One day he had said to her 
 in a burst of real enthusiasm, " Mary, it seems to me 
 to be such a clean business, to mine the precious stuff from 
 old Mother Nature. You rob no man, and what mineral 
 you wrest from her, adds to the wealth of the world. In 
 fact, you become a real benefactor, with the clean virgin 
 gold plucked from the rocks, putting into almost imme 
 diate circulation, Nature's precious hoard of silver and 
 gold." 
 
 Mrs. Brown had smiled indulgently in reply, not deny 
 ing her hard toiling husband entrance to the bright realm 
 of Hope. And as death had since taken her from him, 
 Peter had discovered at that sad time the loss of a far 
 more precious treasure than silver or gold. 
 
 The three days that they waited before the departure 
 of the promised first train to Plume, the elder Brown had 
 spent in purchasing a few supplies, including a small tent 
 and cooking outfit; in visiting the United States land 
 office; familiarizing himself with the mountain country 
 by a constant scrutiny of the State maps; and observing 
 the various conditions of Western life, of which the streets 
 of Denver afforded a rich and varied prospect. Last but 
 not least, he paid a visit to the office of his old regimental 
 commander, Colonel Charles Rose, who was actively in 
 terested in several stage and freight lines. To his keen
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 5 
 
 disappointment, however, the Colonel was absent, attend 
 ing to business matters in Salt Lake and San Francisco. 
 
 When the day of the excursion arrived, Peter and his 
 son boarded the train, in company with some three score 
 or more of eager Westerners, and the principal officers of 
 the C. C. & U. Ry. Every mile of the narrow mountain 
 gulch which the snorting, stuffy, narrow-gage locomotive 
 penetrated, was examined in the most intense delight by 
 the former lowan and his son, and after the tiny train 
 had successfully climbed the last steep grade from Joe- 
 town, the two Browns landed safely in Plume, amid the 
 wild hurrahs of jubilant miners and townsmen, who had 
 turned out en masse to greet the arrival of the first thru 
 train from Denver. 
 
 Plume at that time had several large and paying mines 
 within its borders, grouped principally about the base of 
 a majestic peak known as Castle Mountain. 
 
 The mining district in this vicinity took its name from 
 the largest and best producing mine in the entire gulch, 
 the Pay Rock. The ores obtained from the district were 
 often solid galena, carrying large values in copper, silver, 
 and gold; and others not so valuable, were in prime de 
 mand with the smelters on account of their containing 
 valuable iron sulphides an important factor in the smelt 
 ing of precious ores. The veins containing these ores 
 were generally true fissure veins, sometimes quite wide, 
 often narrowing, but always constant; and with increased 
 depth, maintaining their values excellently. 
 
 Upon investigation, Brown found to his great disap 
 pointment, that outside of the Pay Rock property, very 
 little mining was being done at that time, owing to several 
 badly mixed matters of litigation the curse of the mining 
 world. Also it struck him with considerable force, that 
 the area of mining was restricted to such narrow limits as 
 then prevailed in the region. It seemed incredible to him, 
 for instance, that the balance of Castle Mountain and its 
 noble neighbor across the creek, Mt. Emerald, named for 
 the solid mass of pines and spruces which covered its 
 broad flanks, could be void of veins similar to those worked 
 in the Pay Rock, altho several reputable citizens of Plume
 
 6 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 had told him positively that both mountains had been 
 carefully prospected by dozens of veteran prospectors with 
 out the slightest success. 
 
 Undaunted by these statements, however, Brown and 
 his son pitched their tent on the edge of a little park of 
 pines on the north side of the creek, and began to sys 
 tematically prospect the entire slope of Castle Mountain 
 above the Pay Rock mine. After six weeks of the most 
 careful work, they abandoned the Castle, and pitching 
 their tent on the opposite side of the creek, they began 
 operations on the north slope of Mt. Emerald. 
 
 This superb mountain was much more difficult to pros 
 pect, however, than the Castle, whose steep slopes were 
 almost devoid of vegetation and whose granite surface 
 was quite naked to the eye. With the slopes of the Em 
 erald clothed in masses of pines and spruces, prospecting 
 could only be accomplished by laboriously scraping away 
 the thick blanket of moss, rotten logs, pine-needles, and 
 talus, down to the surface of the mountain, then carefully 
 inspecting the small space thus exposed in search of the 
 desired outcropping. 
 
 Brown began prospecting the Emerald, acting upon the 
 theory that the Pay Rock lode, which followed a course 
 almost exactly due north and south, might possibly con 
 tinue at a great depth beneath the creek, and outcrop 
 again upon the Emerald. Taking observations about the 
 Pay Rock property, he began his campaign upon the Em 
 erald, by making a careful survey, assisted by Standish, 
 measuring the distance and locating the probable course 
 of the vein from the shaft house of the Pay Rock to the 
 first upraise of the Emerald across the creek, at which 
 point he began operations. 
 
 He was somewhat appalled by the enormity of his un 
 dertaking at first, for nature, as if to utterly defy his ef 
 forts, had placed a thick grove of conifers upon the exact 
 spot which he had fixed upon as the possible location of a 
 recurrence of the Pay Rock lode outcrop. But quite un 
 daunted, however, the Browns continued day after day in 
 their arduous search in -the midst of the pines; and each 
 day found them a little higher on the mountain side, un-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 7 
 
 til at the end of six weeks, with clothing torn almost to 
 shreds, and with hands and faces scratched and lacerated 
 by the razor-edged talus and sharp pine-needles, they 
 found themselves fully two thousand feet above the level 
 of the creek. 
 
 As the Emerald still towered thousands of feet above 
 them, their only solace after these terrible weeks of toil, 
 was that the pines were thinning fast, and eventually, as 
 they approached timber-line, the slopes of the mountain 
 would offer them a bare and open surface. But as they 
 gradually ascended the mountain, however, Brown's hopes 
 fell, as every foot of ascent took them further away from 
 the creek. For he had in the infancy of his undertaking 
 deluded himself with the hope that the lode, when struck, 
 could be very successfully mined by driving a short tunnel 
 into it from the edge of the creek. Which method in this 
 district was the ideal manner of conducting mining opera 
 tions, as the great volumes of water which flowed into 
 nearly every shaft in the district thru subterranean water 
 ways draining the vast regions above, entailed an enor 
 mous annual expense for pumping machinery to keep the 
 mine workings free enough from water to permit opera 
 tions. 
 
 Thus the great pumps of the Pay Rock worked night 
 and day, year after year. If the pumping ceased, the 
 mine immediately filled; and thousands of dollars were 
 lost in pumping it out again, replacing the rotting timbers, 
 and placing the workings in condition to resume opera 
 tions. As careful tests had proven that there was no val 
 uable ore in the Castle above the shaft house of the Pay 
 Rock, and that the lode dipped gradually into the moun 
 tain instead of toward the creek, the history of that prop 
 erty had been one of continually sinking upon the vein, 
 and patiently pumping out the water. 
 
 However, thru a -tunnel driven directly into the side of 
 the mountain, such as Peter Brown proposed, the water 
 would flow by gravity, and thus drain the entire workings 
 of the mine above, without the large expense of buying 
 and maintaining an enormous pumping plant. 
 
 At this point in his labors, however, Brown would have
 
 8 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 been glad to have accepted a vein or lode at any disad 
 vantage, for not a sign of an outcropping had been ex 
 posed to reward his efforts. Despair had not entirely 
 seized him as yet, and his face still showed the dogged 
 determination of the grim veteran that he was. But he 
 was glad to call a truce, however, and both Standish and 
 he spent several days in camp, during which time they 
 cleaned up the camp outfit and mended their clothes. 
 They also made a trip to Plume and laid in a final stock of 
 provisions; and greatly refreshed by their brief respite, 
 father and son renewed their toil. 
 
 One day, almost immediately after resuming their pick 
 ing and shoveling in the loose pine-needles and rock far 
 up the side of the Emerald, Peter was startled by a loud 
 cry from Standish, who immediately came running to 
 him with a large piece of rock in his hand. 
 
 Peter grasped it excitedly, and after a careful examina 
 tion, declared it to be as fine a specimen of honeycomb 
 quartz as he had ever seen. 
 
 " My God ! What a fine prospect, wh where did it 
 lay?" he asked eagerly, following Standish up the hill as 
 fast as his infirmities allowed. And much to the old vet 
 eran's astonishment, Standish showed him where it had 
 lain quite bare to the sky on top of a mass of pine-needles. 
 
 "Why, boy," exclaimed the panting old veteran, ''this 
 has fallen here within the last few days. Inside of a 
 week or so at the outside. The ledge which this broke 
 from is undoubtedly above us. It can't it can't be very 
 far," he mused, "the trees are too thick. Yes, this piece 
 of quartz must have broken loose and rolled down here 
 inside the last few days Great Caesar ! That ledge above 
 us!" he cried, motioning excitedly. And as Standish 
 leaped up the mountain to a ledge of rock about a hun 
 dred feet above them, which showed dimly thru a thicket 
 of young jack-pines, he eagerly scanned its face. 
 
 "Hurrah, father, it's here it's here!" he cried tri 
 umphantly, and in a flash the crippled old soldier Bad 
 climbed the hill, and was eagerly examining the wide 
 streak of glittering quartz as it lay exposed between two 
 walls of granite; and a few moments later he leaped at
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 9 
 
 Standish, and father and son hugged each other like ship 
 wrecked sailors after sighting a succoring sail. Peter 
 Brown's dream had become a reality, and, best of all, the 
 lode looked feasible for a tunnel. 
 
 To his great amazement, after his first transports of joy 
 were over, Peter found that the lode as it lay exposed to 
 his view, pointed almost diagonally across their path, thus 
 completely exploding his theory of finding a continuance 
 of the Pay Rock lode. Instead of following the general 
 direction of the Pay Rock lode across the creek, it pointed 
 more to the east and west ; and might possibly, by tracing 
 the vein to the east, bring it close to the creek. Thus as 
 prospectors often do, they had discovered an absolutely 
 new lode in their search for an old one. 
 
 After a careful examination Peter became convinced 
 that if the vein held the same direction as it lay thus par 
 tially exposed, it would reach the creek nearly opposite 
 and within less than a thousand yards of the C. C. & U. 
 Railway depot in Plume. And that night, following such 
 a day of excitement and delirious joy, the old veteran said 
 to himself, after carefully assuring himself that Standish 
 was fast asleep, " Peter, you darned old fool, why didn't 
 you go up the hill and work down, instead of killing your 
 self in that wild tangle of pines?" 
 
 And the more he thought of it, the more this participant 
 of many battles and bearer of honorable wounds became 
 enraged; and finally fell asleep, fully convinced that his 
 six weeks of toil on the side of the Emerald could all 
 have been averted if he had used a little more "hoss sense," 
 and taken a preliminary prospect from the uppermost bar 
 ren and open slopes of the mountain down to the forest of 
 pines. 
 
 After several days of patient picking, shoveling and 
 close compass work, Peter traced the vein on a compara 
 tively true course bearing toward the creek. And at the 
 end of two weeks he had proved it to within a half mile of 
 the railroad station in Plume, at an elevation of fully two 
 thousand feet above the level of the creek. Beyond this 
 point he could not trace it, for it ran straight into an enor-
 
 10 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 mous projecting ledge of the Emerald and did not emerge 
 upon the other side. 
 
 The exact measured distance from the ledge where the 
 outcropping finally disappeared, to the south bank of the 
 creek, was one thousand nine hundred and eighty-five feet. 
 And it was seven hundred and sixty feet from the edge 
 of the creek, to a point upon the mountain side where it 
 would be practicable to start a tunnel, which point was 
 , fully five hundred feet above the level of the creek. De 
 ducting this amount from the full measured distance, 
 Peter figured that a tunnel of twelve hundred and twenty- 
 five feet would cut the lode at a depth of fifteen hundred 
 feet. To say that the magnificence of the proposition fairly 
 staggered the old veteran would be putting it mildly. 
 However, he lost no time in idle speculation, but imme 
 diately staked put a sufficient number of claims so as to 
 include the entire length of the vein, with a goodly allow 
 ance at both ends. And immediately adjoining the C. 
 C. & U. Ry. right-of-way he placed his stakes for a 
 tunnel site. 
 
 After these preliminaries, he boarded the first train for 
 Denver, with a full description and measurement of his 
 claims, together with some rich looking samples of the ore. 
 
 His movements up to this time had aroused no suspi 
 cions of a "strike" among the townspeople of Plume, as 
 he had conducted all of his surveying operations at night, 
 taking advantage of several moonlight nights that oc 
 curred at this juncture of his enterprise. 
 
 Arriving in Denver, he w T ent straight to Colonel Rose's 
 office, and was delighted to find that ruddy old Westerner 
 at his desk. 
 
 Colonel Charles Rose was a Kentuckian of straight Puri 
 tan descent, whose ancestors, instead of emigrating to the 
 region north of the Ohio, as had Peter Brown's, had moved 
 south and west, into Kentucky and Tennessee. The Col 
 onel had married a handsome woman of aristocratic Vir 
 ginian Cavalier ancestry, whose ancestors had been settled 
 in Kentucky some time before the arrival of the Roses. 
 Just previous to the Rebellion, the Colonel, anticipating 
 the inevitable conflict and in full sympathy with the abo-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 11 
 
 lition movement, had moved to Iowa, and there, by reason 
 of his exceptional civic and military abilities, had led a 
 regiment to war. 
 
 After the two old campaigners had exchanged hearty 
 greetings, and engaged in a little round of old times, Peter 
 finally mentioned his mining project to the Colonel, who, 
 delighted with the description, and closely examining the 
 ore, at which he was an expert, pronounced the find a 
 bonanza. 
 
 " Egad, Pete, what are you going to name the lode?" he 
 asked. 
 
 Peter looked up in some surprise, as he had entirely 
 overlooked that part of the program. But as he looked 
 up at the Colonel, his eyes caught sight of the old flag of 
 the army corps under which he and the Colonel had both 
 fought, and which hung upon the wall above the Colonel's 
 desk carefully framed under glass. The emblem of the 
 corps was a cartridge box, bearing the ominous legend, "40 
 Rounds." 
 
 " By gosh! Colonel, I'll call it the 40 Rounds, after our 
 old flag," he said, in the celebration of which the two old 
 vets proceeded to tap a bottle ; after which jovial christen 
 ing, the Colonel recommended the services of his son 
 John, a rising young lawyer of Denver at that time, for 
 filing and making out the proper papers for the discovery 
 and the ownership of the 40 Rounds lode. 
 
 After dinner at the Colonel's residence, and a call at an 
 assayer's office to have the ore tested, Peter obtained his 
 papers and left for Plume satisfied that he was in posses 
 sion of a real bonanza. 
 
 When the people of Plume at last got wind of Peter's 
 "strike" it caused considerable excitement, and resulted 
 in the filing of several claims immediately adjoining the 
 property of the 40 Rounds. Strange to say, many of the 
 oldest miners of Plume had prospected this same ground 
 many times, but Nature had evidently guarded her secret 
 from them in order to reward the old soldier and his son. 
 
 The next mail brought the assayer's test, and to Peter's 
 delight, the ore proved values to the extent of $47.85 per 
 ton, principally silver, tho carrying excellent values in
 
 12 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 gold and copper, with a considerable percentage of lead. 
 
 After his first transports of joy were over, Peter soon be 
 gan to realize that it is one thing to merely prospect a mine 
 and another to develop it. Like nearly every other busi 
 ness proposition, the mining business depends largely 
 upon the extent of one's capital. If Peter had possessed 
 sufficient capital he would have immediately started his 
 tunnel to cut the lode exactly where he had made his sur 
 vey. But when a bore is proposed to penetrate at least 
 twelve hundred and twenty-five feet of solid granite, with 
 no prospect of pay ore until the objective lode is cut, it is 
 a proposition which calls for the expenditure of several 
 thousand dollars. And altho it was decidedly the most 
 feasible and economical plan for the scientific develop 
 ment of the mine, yet with Peter's slender capital it was 
 impossible. He was forced to follow, therefore, the only 
 plan possible under the circumstances, and that w T as to 
 start a shaft, sinking it upon the vein where it lay exposed 
 on the ledge of rock fully two thousand feet above the 
 level of the creek. Peter hoped, however, that the ores 
 thus raised from the shaft would bring him sufficient re 
 turns to eventually put the tunnel thru to the lode; 
 the tunnel itself being started by him, in performance of 
 the assessment work which was required by the United 
 States Government to hold the tunnel site, annually to 
 the amount of $100.00, but the few feet that would be thus 
 made each year would be but a mere scratch in the side 
 of the Emerald. 
 
 The Browns had built their cabin near the mouth of 
 the tunnel, at which point was a broad shelf or terrace 
 upon the side of the mountain, some five hundred feet 
 above the creek. At the mouth of the shaft, fully fifteen 
 hundred feet above the cabin, they erected a commodious 
 shaft-house, and furnished it with bunks, cooking utensils, 
 etc., and they also built a -tool house and equipped it with 
 forge and anvil, which were necessary for sharpening the 
 drills. 
 
 For over a year the Browns steadily sank the shaft, and 
 kept up the assessment work on the tunnel site. In that 
 time they produced some very good ore and in consider-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 13 
 
 able quantities; but the actual cost of mining the ore 
 itself, the labor required to get the ore down to the rail 
 road station for shipment, the railroad haul to Denver, 
 the cost of smelting, and the actual theft of the smelters, so 
 notorious at that time, all conspired to produce a very 
 small net return to Brown and his son for their arduous 
 toil. However, they made some headway, and Peter soon 
 had a generous bank account in Denver at a depository 
 recommended by the Colonel. 
 
 As they started into the second year of the development 
 of the mine, the long anticipated evil befell them which 
 had proved so costly to the Pay Rock. In 'the spring, 
 great quantities of water flowed into the shaft from the 
 upper regions of the Emerald, and at last they gave up 
 the work as a task impossible to continue, unless a pump 
 was installed to keep the workings clear from the crystal 
 flood. 
 
 Peter gave the matter his most serious thought. He 
 went over his resources carefully, and concluded that he 
 would s-take his all on the tunnel project, and abandon the 
 shaft completely. With the same amount of money which 
 would be required to install a pumping plant to keep the 
 shaft free of water, he figured that he could push the tun 
 nel several hundred feet; and with the advice of the Col 
 onel, he began that task, which, however arduous, would 
 eventually be the salvation of the property, for with the 
 tunnel completed, it would be far easier to produce many 
 tons of ore, therefrom, than to obtain one ton from the now 
 badly flooded shaft. 
 
 By this time Standish had become quite an expert 
 miner, and Peter figured that, with no ill luck, they could 
 prosecute the tunnel at an average of forty feet per month. 
 
 Thus the two Browns, with all the fever and vigor which 
 only mining the precious stuff itself can produce, kept up 
 the constant drill and blast within the tunnel, month 
 after month, for over two years, until the tape measured 
 an even thousand feet from the mouth of the tunnel to 
 the breast. Peter could not handle the drills himself, 
 incapacitated as he was by his rheumatism and wounds, 
 but he contented himself by putting the rock dropped by
 
 14 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the blast into the one tiny ore car in their possession, and 
 hauling it thru the tunnel down the little track and 
 dumping it into the gulch. He also cooked most of the 
 meals, kept the house, sharpened the drills, and looked 
 after the supply of food and dynamite; while Standish, 
 tall and sinewy as a young ash, attacked unrelentingly the 
 granite breast of the 40 Rounds with hammer and drill, 
 exploding the remorseless dynamite and advancing nearer 
 and nearer the vast heart of the Emerald with every bite 
 of the conquering blast. 
 
 When they unloosed the tape again, it reached the 
 twelve-hundred-foot mark. They were within twenty-five 
 feet of the lode. Peter had never for a moment doubted 
 but that the lode would be cut and exposed at that dis 
 tance. But he was getting desperately anxious, however, 
 as his ready funds were almost exhausted, while his credit 
 with the storekeepers of Plume had long since been 
 stretched to the breaking point. He had enough money 
 left to run the last twenty-five feet, but not a cent more. 
 That distance was soon accomplished, but with no indica 
 tion of the lode. This considerably daunted the old sol 
 dier, but he could not doubt that the lode was hidden 
 from them by only a few more feet. He therefore applied 
 to Howard & Co., keepers of a general store in Plume, for 
 a las-t month's credit of provisions and dynamite, he hav 
 ing hardly dared to look at the total of the bill he owed 
 them for the past three months. 
 
 Howard thought the matter over carefully. The busted 
 miner was a common thing for him to encounter, and as 
 they were more often the victims of drink than ill luck, 
 they usually could obtain no credit with him save in a 
 very limited way ; but he knew the old soldier received a 
 small pension from the government, that he had a son 
 capable of working at almost anything, and that both of 
 them w r ere of the utmost integrity of character ; and lastly, 
 we must give him the credit for saying to himself, " Pete 
 Brown has been a good customer of ours for years, and I 
 would just as soon as not lose the amount in remembrance 
 of his good pay of past times." 
 
 And so the Browns, as at the beginning of this narra-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 15 
 
 live, having exhausted this last month's supply of pro 
 visions, were also awaiting the discharge of their last stick 
 of "giant." 
 
 A muffled roar was soon heard. A sharp puff of air rat 
 tled the half open door of the tunnel. The blast was over. 
 
 Had it reached the lode? 
 
 By almost superhuman efforts Standish had penetrated 
 nearly fifty-two feet of solid granite in this last month, in 
 addition to which the holes just discharged would add at 
 least two feet to the total, the lode having dipped or varied 
 from its course just that amount, in its fifteen-hundred- 
 foot fall from the outcropping far above, provided, of 
 course, that this last shot had exposed its precious riches. 
 
 The entrance of the two Browns into the tunnel of the 
 40 Rounds a half hour later was almost tragic. Without 
 means, almost without food, their credit exhausted, their 
 physical and mental forces terribly depleted, these two 
 heroes had fought the solid rock for nearly five years, and 
 unless this last shot was victorious, they were defeated 
 and prisoners of want. 
 
 Standish lighted a candle and pressed eagerly forward. 
 There was a girl in Plume who was to be his if the precious 
 lode of the 40 Rounds had been struck. Every hole and 
 every shot for the past six months had been driven and 
 fired in her name. He had not feared want. Necessities 
 are few in the light of youthful love, and so he pressed 
 forward in the joy of love and hope, with his eyes un- 
 dimmed by the still escaping smoke, and his lungs un- 
 choked by the foul fumes of the blast. 
 
 But Peter, the father, moved feebly. He realized that 
 only a miracle could have exposed the coveted ore in this 
 last shot. An old veteran is not led by the light of Hope. 
 The grim old warrior has little faith in the chance shot. 
 He follows no false will-o'-the-wisp, but instead he faces 
 the battle line with firm, grim stoicism. And as Peter 
 walked forward by the dim light of his candle, he was 
 feebly thinking of what his next move would be in this 
 tremendous baffling enterprise, and preparing his despair 
 ing gray eyes to view the disheartening spectacle of the 
 still grayer unyielding granite breast of the 40 Rounds.
 
 16 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 But he did not realize that he would witness another spec 
 tacle which would arouse in him such an anguish that the 
 sight of the unconquered rock could not, and which would 
 completely subdue his undaunted heart and melt his grim 
 stoicism into a fountain of tears. 
 
 When Standish reached the breast of the tunnel, he 
 thrust the candle anxiously into the gray depths of the 
 jagged seams made by the blast, his eyes searching eagerly 
 for the gleam, or supposed gleam, of the long-battled-for 
 quartz. 
 
 But in vain. The terrible mountain laughed and 
 sneered at him. 
 
 He placed the candle on the floor, and despairingly 
 seizing a pick, he stripped the breast of the tunnel to the 
 smoothness of a stone wall. But all was granite solid, 
 gray, cold, pitiless, unyielding granite. He struck the 
 -wall a final, despairing blow, causing the sparks to fly in 
 showers. The mighty force of the blow had broken the 
 point of the pick. That breast of rock was harder than 
 the steel which struck it. The blow echoed dully in the 
 depths of the mountain, and with a groan of grief and 
 despair, the strong youth who struck it fell upon the heap 
 of rocky debris and wept like a child. 
 
 As he fell the draught put out the flame of the candle. 
 
 It was at this juncture that Peter appeared, groping his 
 way feebly forward with his dim eyes, and stumbling over 
 the pile of rock upon which lay his unhappy son. 
 
 "My poor tired boy," he cried brokenly, knowing that 
 the worst had come, and that the last shot had exposed 
 nothing but a barren wall. 
 
 The candle fell from his hand extinguished, and falling 
 upon his rheumatic old knees regardless of the cruel, 
 jagged granite cutting into his flesh, he clasped his son in 
 his arms, and together father and son wept there in the 
 darkness, and only the vast stony heart of the Emerald 
 knew. 
 
 Peter, the father, emerged from the tunnel of the 40 
 Rounds a poor man again. Poor in pocket, poor in hope. 
 When he returned to the cabin he found that Poverty had 
 entered, and was again his unwelcome guest. Many times
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 17 
 
 before she had visited him, and he recognized her in 
 stantly. They silently exchanged greetings, and once 
 more the wolf slept beside the cabin door. 
 
 Standish, the son, emerged from the tunnel a desper 
 ately whipped man. The mountain had broken his heart. 
 It was his first great defeat in life. He was still bleeding 
 from the cuts of the sharp rocks which had pillowed his 
 head. Nature had set him a terrible pace. Her solid 
 granite had beaten his strong arm, charged as it was with 
 dynamite and drill. He did not observe Poverty as his 
 father did when he entered the cabin. He observed an 
 other figure, however, but it was not that of Poverty. 
 Long years afterward he could have named it. 
 
 It was FATE.
 
 BOOK TWO 
 
 THE NEST THAT SHAKES IN THE WIND 
 
 THE Browns began their modest supper in silence. 
 The tears to which they had succumbed in the 
 mine had partially washed away the acuteness of 
 their disappointment, and their despair was succeeded by 
 hard, practical thought. In times past they had vaguely 
 discussed a plan of action in case their funds should be 
 come exhausted before they cut the lode. Such a contin 
 gency had seemed so improbable, however, that it had 
 been a mere dip of anticipation; but now that such a 
 situation actually faced them, they were both thinking 
 out a solution of the problem. Standish broke the silence. 
 
 " Father, I guess I had better go down to Denver and 
 have Colonel Rose help me to get a job ; six months work 
 at fair wages will pay our debts, give us a grub stake, and 
 giant enough to cut another hundred feet into the hill. 
 Surely we must be close to the lode. Don't you think so, 
 daddy?" he said, looking appealingly into the brave sen 
 sitive face of his father. 
 
 The old veteran sighed heavily as he replied, " Son, I'd 
 stake my life that we are within twenty-five feet of it. I 
 suppose I could borrow some money from the Colonel, but 
 perhaps it's better for us to earn it, independence is so 
 sweet. I really think tho, son, that a little change will 
 do us both good, especially yourself. You're all I've got, 
 and if it wasn't for your bravery and strength, old Peter 
 Brown would have been done for long ago. But never 
 mind, sonny, when we do strike that tarnel stubborn 
 streak of ore, you shall have it all gold, power, riches, 
 and and a hair cut," he added smilingly, as he noticed 
 almost for the first time, the long unshorn locks which 
 clustered about the ears of his son. 
 
 "My little pension, and what few dollars I can make 
 
 19
 
 20 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 fiddling for the boys down in Plume, will keep me going 
 O. K. ; and if everything else goes all right, we'll hit 
 the old 40 Rounds such a whack six months from now, 
 as will carry us thru to pay ore in a jiffy. Work is scarce 
 up here at Plume I hear, but I know the Colonel can 
 get you work in Denver, and I guess it's the move to 
 make." 
 
 They cleared the table and washed the dishes, and as the 
 father busied himself in making up the beds and attend 
 ing to several other little neglected duties of their quar 
 ters, Standish brushed himself up as well as he could, and 
 halting at the door he said, " I won't be gone long, father, 
 I'm just going to drop in on Mollie for a few minutes," 
 and opening the door he disappeared in the darkness. 
 
 He passed down the trail, crossed the railroad tracks 
 near the little station, and walking up the principal street 
 of Plume he paused before the largest edifice of the vil 
 lage. 
 
 It was a low two-storied frame structure with a veranda 
 built along the entire street front. A rude sign painted in 
 black and white, and fastened clumsily to the roof of the 
 veranda with two strips of pine, indicated that this par 
 ticular edifice was "The New Windsor Hotel." It was 
 the only place in the village which aspired to the dignity 
 of a public hostelry, and altho the word "new" affixed to 
 an old hotel sign, is perhaps an indication that the hos 
 telry thus identified has recently changed ownership and 
 undergone a renovation; yet it nevertheless gives to the 
 veteran traveler a decided chill, quite similar to that ex 
 perienced when one is introduced to a strange man, with 
 the whispered admonition, "that he has just buried his 
 third wife." 
 
 The proprietor of the New Windsor at this time was 
 Mrs. Mary Rogan, an Irish widow of fifty-five summers. 
 She had arrived in Plume one day from Denver, the guest 
 of the C. C. & U. Ry., an official of that road having inter 
 ested her in the leasing of the Windsor Hotel then vacant, 
 had also issued her a round trip pass so that she could ex 
 amine the proposition in person and without expense. 
 The widow had gone over the property carefully, and re-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 21 
 
 turning to Denver where she further consulted the owner, 
 the deal finally resulted in Plume numbering among its 
 growing population, the widow Rogan and her handsome 
 young daughter, Mollie. 
 
 The steady boarders of the New Windsor were the train 
 men of the C. C. & U. Ry., and several engineers and 
 mining men from the nearby mines. While an occasional 
 traveling salesman, and parties of visiting stockholders 
 of the numerous mining concerns of the region, together 
 with considerable numbers of tourists in the summer sea 
 son, all contributed to the maintenance of this mountain 
 hostelry. 
 
 The widow's daughter, a young woman of eighteen, had 
 secured the position of teacher in the one tiny school 
 which the village supported; and she also assisted in no 
 small way, thru the medium of her comely attractions, 
 in filling the tables of the New Windsor with gallant and 
 admiring gentlemen from the entire camp. 
 
 Standish entered the hotel office, which was filled with 
 the crew of the evening passenger train from Denver, who 
 sat smoking and hugging the bright coal fire and ex 
 changing the gossip of their day's run, and opening the 
 door into the cold, narrow hallway, and climbing the 
 steep flight of creaky stairs which led to the second floor, 
 he paused at the head of the open doorway of the parlor, 
 which was furnished with the personal effects of the 
 widow herself. 
 
 It contained an organ of uncertain age, a black walnut 
 stand with a white embroidered cover, upon which rested 
 a massive family Bible and a sadly soiled cream and gold 
 plush bound photograph album, containing the pictorial 
 necrology of at least three generations of the Rogans and 
 the O'Briens, the latter name being the maiden name of 
 the widow. A small stool beside the organ was the re 
 pository for several ancient hymn books, and sheets of 
 vocal and instrumental music of a much later date, evi 
 dently the property of Mollie. Several cheap wooden 
 chairs, a large well battered up lounge upholstered in 
 faded red plush and delightfully odoriferous from untold 
 years of buckwheat cakes and other kitchen fragrances,
 
 22 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and an old fashioned hair sofa, a relic of first married 
 years, filled the various corners of the New Windsor 
 parlor. 
 
 Upon the parlor walls were several frames, among them 
 being the Lord's Prayer in pictorial form; while another 
 contained a desperately melodramatic poem printed in 
 'black and gilt, describing a fearful mine disaster which 
 several years before had brought death and suffering to 
 several families in Plume. 
 
 Upon a badly fly-specked wooden stretcher nearby, was 
 a canvas upon which was painted a view of Grays Peak as 
 viewed from the valley of Clear Creek. It looked more 
 like an ant-hill in distress, but if one were wise, he would 
 accept the widow's glowing description of this gem of art, 
 with a gravely composed countenance, and several well 
 placed "ahs." 
 
 Another interesting subject upon the parlor wall, was 
 a steel engraving of the Washington family. Two or 
 three yellow streaks across the once white mat of this 
 picture, indicated to the careful observer; that the illus 
 trious George and Martha, together with their little flock, 
 had nearly perished in some tenement fire. Several tell 
 tale watermarks upon the same mat and numerous blisters 
 on the varnish of the frame, revealing very plainly, that 
 just as the flames had reached the frame, the firemen had 
 succeeded in drenching the walls upon which the frame was 
 resting. As the widow had lived in Chicago during the 
 Great Fire, one might be justified in assuming that this 
 dramatic incident in the later history of the Washington 
 family, had occurred in the metropolis of the Great Lakes. 
 
 A small chamber opening from the parlor thus de 
 scribed, was the abode of Mollie Rogan. Standish looked 
 inquiringly in its direction, and seeing a light thru the 
 half opened door he advanced into the parlor to see if 
 Mistress Mollie was at home, she had heard his step, how 
 ever, and met him half way in the parlor. 
 
 The tread of a heavy man upon the stairs of the New 
 Windsor shook the hostelry to its very foundations. 
 During a winter storm, the snow, whipped by a stiff wind, 
 was driven thru the thin sides of the hotel as thru a
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 23 
 
 sieve, covering the beds on the windward side upstairs 
 with deep glistening ripples of the "beautiful," which the 
 regular guests upon retiring, philosophically shook off 
 on the floor. 
 
 And, oh ! The wind ! With every gust of the fierce win 
 ter gale or the softer breeze of summer, the hotel sjiook 
 and weaved like an oriole's nest suspended from a wind- 
 rocked tree. 
 
 During a severe storm the previous winter, the hotel was 
 nearly blown into the creek which flowed swiftly a few 
 yards distant. And the widow, nearly frightened out of 
 her wits and having loudly protested with the owner in 
 Denver, a carpenter had been engaged to brace the corners 
 of the building with some heavy posts, anchoring them to 
 several beams sunk deep in the ground. Since then the 
 widow had felt safer; as for the hotel, it still shook vio 
 lently in the wind and pulled madly at its fastenings, 
 much like a ship in a harbor pulling fiercely at its anchor 
 during a heavy gale. 
 
 At regular intervals, and with almost the exact regu 
 larity of an ocean fog-horn shrieking its hoarse warning 
 to vessels in the fog, occurred the hideous brayings of sev 
 eral Rocky Mountain jackasses. The long eared singers 
 in a stable two doors to the west of the hotel, singing 
 yearningly to the canary toned divas of another stable 
 four doors to the east of the hotel, who returned the soul 
 ful salutations of their neighbors with an impassioned 
 fervor which brooked no superiority either in volume or 
 in tone. Thus these mountain birds sang to each other 
 day and night, even on Sunday and Decoration Day. And 
 just as often as their melodious "onk-ke-onks" and grave 
 crescendo "hee-haws" were emitted, the tender heart-melt 
 ing vibrations entered into shingles, weather boarding, 
 rafters, and in fact into the entire structure of the New 
 Windsor, softly imparting their rich sonorous strains into 
 the ears of the guests; it having been estimated by par 
 ticularly favored guests of this famous Colorado hostelry, 
 that about thirty minutes of this soul-agonizing chorus, 
 would put the most earnest Chinese funeral to shame. 
 
 When the hotel did not shake in the wind, it shook in
 
 24 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the bray of the jackasses. And when both these forces 
 swooped down upon the devoted edifice at once, the un 
 initiated guests were sometimes distracted enough to call 
 for life-presenters, thinking that the old ship would surely 
 sink. 
 
 Mollie ushered Standish into her little room off the 
 parlor and seated him beside a tiny stove, which was 
 usually piping hot to stave off the cold air of the moun 
 tain nights as it leaked thru the innumerable chinks and 
 crevices of the hotel. Widow Rogan had almost denied 
 her daughter the extravagance of this room, but had 
 finally been persuaded that Mollie should be allowed the 
 privilege of a room all to herself, especially as the parlor 
 was open to the guests at all times; both mother and 
 daughter sleeping in another room across the hall from 
 the parlor. 
 
 Mollie's trim individuality reigned supreme in this tiny 
 chamber. In addition to the stove, the room was fur 
 nished with a small table with an elaborately embroidered 
 cover, upon which stood a reading lamp with a red paper 
 shade ; while a couple of old wooden chairs neatly covered 
 with a red and white fabric to conceal the battered up 
 wood, constituted the balance of the room's modest fur 
 nishings. In one corner was a large stack of Harper's 
 Bazaars, of which Mollie was a regular subscriber, and 
 upon the walls were many double page pictures cut from 
 the same magazine, also an old daguerreotype of her 
 father and mother taken many years before in Chicago. 
 
 Now Mistress Mollie had decided upon one thing that 
 very afternoon, which was that a young lady who was 
 engaged to be married as she was, should have a ring, and 
 she had made up her mind to ask Standish for one that 
 very evening. 
 
 A young woman who is engaged must have a ring. 
 
 Such has been the custom of centuries of love making. 
 To millions of the tender sex it has brought untold de 
 light, whether it be the plain silver band offering of the 
 humblest peasant, or the magnificent solitaire of the mil 
 lionaire, it carries into a maiden's heart a world of senti 
 ment.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 25 
 
 To those women who are bound in marriage, its magic 
 power oft prevents the quarrel. There are some women 
 who scorn the weak and guilty husband, and turn him 
 away with a cold heart; but when they pluck off the ring 
 which has adorned their finger, perhaps for many years, 
 they weep. The former object of their affection has proved 
 himself vile, yet the sight of the ring brings back the time 
 when he was pure and love beat high. These women can 
 forgive. 
 
 There are some women who have plucked off the ring 
 fiercely in the heat of the quarrel, but as the husband ad 
 vanced protestingly to take it back, they have thrown 
 their arms lovingly about him ; and in that embrace, both 
 husband and wife promised each other better things, and 
 the ring shone all the brighter thruout the remaining 
 years. 
 
 There are a few women, who engaged but not married, 
 have returned the ring coldly, without sentiment, with 
 out regard, to look for another ring, another foolish 
 giver. 
 
 There are still a fewer number of women, who have 
 been known to give the cold dismissal but not the ring. 
 In the eyes of such women, a ring has intrinsic value. 
 
 Mollie belonged to the true class of women. She wanted 
 a ring upon her finger, to treasure her lover within her 
 heart. Its close presence would remind her of him when 
 he was away at his work, and it would always be a solemn, 
 sacred token of their engagement, to remind her of his 
 constancy when her own heart was weak, and to inform 
 the world that her person was sacred and inviolate in the 
 promised bonds of matrimony. 
 
 Their conversation had drifted on in the little chit-chat 
 way of lovers, and as Standish rose to bid her good-bye, 
 she crept up into his arms and whispered her request in 
 that confident petulant manner of a woman who rules 
 the object of her desires. 
 
 Standish was half prepared for her request. He was 
 fully conscious that it was the customary thing to do, but 
 in the fearful clutch of his poverty he had long evaded the 
 issue, especially as he had anticipated the striking of the
 
 26 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 rich lode of the 40 Rounds, and then the ring should be 
 a magnificent diamond. 
 
 "Certainly, darling," he replied confusedly to her re 
 quest; and as an apology for not having done so before, 
 he told her that he was going to Denver to buy her a dia 
 mond. Standish did not see her happy smile in the dim 
 light as he told her this, but he felt the tightening clasp 
 of her arms, and with a fond kiss she released him, and 
 he passed thru the parlor and out into the hall shaking the 
 whole house with his heavy tread. 
 
 As he passed out into the night filled with the joy of 
 her embrace, he looked up at the starry sky with its mil 
 lions of glittering jewels, and he wished that one of them 
 might drop at his feet set in a golden band. But further 
 on as he climbed the steep trail, Poverty clutched him by 
 the throat, the joy was rudely swept from his heart, the 
 unyielding granite breast of the 40 Rounds stared him 
 mockingly in the face; and there, under those same glit 
 tering orbs, realizing his helpless, moneyless condition, 
 he wept. When he looked up at them again thru his tears, 
 they appeared no longer as bright jewels set in a beautiful 
 sky, but rather as cold distant planets. 
 
 Approaching the cabin, he heard the familiar tones of 
 his father's violin. He stood near the window and lis 
 tened, the notes seeming to soothe him. 
 
 " Dear old dad," he murmured, as the sweet notes filled 
 to overflowing their little weather-beaten shack. It was 
 an old, old ballad that dad was playing. Standish remem 
 bered, that long ago he had heard his mother sing the 
 same sweet, tender words. Yes, the old man was humming 
 them even now: 
 
 " I cannot sing the old songs, 
 
 For mem'ries come again, 
 Of golden dreams departed, 
 And years of weary pain. 
 
 Perhaps when earthly fetters, 
 
 Shall set my spirit free, 
 My voice shall sing the old songs, 
 
 Thru all eternity."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 27 
 
 The sweet strains of the violin softly followed the husky 
 old voice. The notes which the wavering voice could not 
 carry, the instrument did. And perhaps it was not that 
 the voice was cracked and husky, but rather that the old 
 man's heart strings hushed the tender notes and claimed 
 their own. 
 
 Soon the sweet strains ceased, but Standish did not 
 hurry, for he felt that this was dad's hour, and that the 
 depths of his tender revery was too sacred, even for the 
 presence of a son. 
 
 In the domain of Spirit, Poverty is unknown. 
 
 Broken old Peter Brown sat there in his humble cabin, 
 poor in purse, but royally rich in the flow of memories. 
 
 As Standish seated himself upon the washstand outside 
 the cabin door and waited, he thought that perhaps the 
 ring would be bought in some manner after all, but he 
 did most emphatically know, that he was dreadfully tired 
 and sleepy; and stamping his feet heavily, so that his 
 father might know he was coming, he raised the latch 
 and entered. 
 
 Peter was putting the violin and bow in their case. 
 Looking up cheerily he said, "Well, son, got home so 
 soon," and placing the case upon the shelf and handling 
 it as thp it were a thing of love, he lighted his pipe and 
 looked into the fire.
 
 *
 
 BOOK THREE 
 
 THE INVASION OF POLISH 
 
 THE train which Standish took for Denver passed 
 the up-bound train at the Forks of the Creek. Upon 
 that train was a person who was experiencing for 
 the first time the glorious inspiration of the Rockies. 
 
 Theodore Dodge, the person in question, was a polished 
 young man of symmetrical 'build, medium height, full 
 chested and shapely limbed as a young Greek; and with 
 magnetic merry black eyes, brownish hair and rosy cheeks, 
 he made a rare picture of perfect and graceful young man 
 hood. He came from Ohio, where his parents, who were 
 well-to-do farmers, had provided liberally for his educa 
 tion ; and now, at the age of twenty-two, he had just gradu 
 ated from college, flattering himself that he was a full- 
 fledged engineer and mining expert. 
 
 The handsome youth undoubtedly did possess a superb 
 book education, but he was certainly sadly lacking in that 
 greater education of actual contact with that subject mat 
 ter upon which he had so assiduously informed himself 
 from his books. 
 
 Mines and mining existed for him only in thought. He 
 felt that he knew them thoroly in theory, but he was 
 soon to see them materialize into those cold, hard facts, 
 which, somehow, seem in actual experience to differentiate 
 so curiously from the substance of mere printed pages. 
 
 The president of the college which Theodore had at 
 tended had warmly interested himself in the bright young 
 collegian, and when Theodore had finished the course 
 and obtained his degree, the president had secured for 
 him the promise of a position from an old friend of his 
 who was at that time a resident of Denver. 
 
 Theodore, thereupon, had come immediately to the 
 mountain metropolis, and presented his letter to the gen- 
 
 29
 
 30 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 tleman addressed, who proved to be a wholesale merchant 
 of the city, Mr. Thomas Bayard. The merchant had 
 scrutinized the young man very closely with his shrewd 
 gray eyes, and had stated a time for the youth to call upon 
 him again. At this point in our narrative it becomes nec 
 essary to digress briefly to relate the circumstances of 
 Thomas Bayard's first venture in mining. 
 
 Is there an old resident of Colorado who has not at some 
 time or another been the possessor of mining stock? If a 
 man really does escape the tempting invitation of the 
 Great Hills, in itself a severe test of his conservatism, or 
 resists investing a little wad in the " U-O-ME," or sinking 
 a small bunch in the " Gay Red Elephant," and by this 
 act of rare abstinence eliciting from his weaker or more 
 reckless friends the credit of steering clear of the seething 
 maelstrom of Western mine speculation, he is almost sure, 
 sooner or later, to have some of the flimsy stuff forced 
 on him as collateral by some unfortunate acquaintance. 
 So that, sane or insane, drunk or sober, wise or foolish, 
 the Coloradoan of long standing is in a fair way to become 
 the possessor of some of that most questionable, tho often 
 surprisingly valuable, commodity in the whirlpool of 
 American speculation a bunch of mining stock. 
 
 Immediately adjoining the extensive properties of the 
 Pay Rock in Plume was a large property known as the 
 Sampson-Smith. Sampson had originally owned one 
 claim, Smith the other. And the two properties thus 
 immediately adjoining each other were so situated, by 
 reason of the peculiar slope of the mountain, that the lode, 
 which was the main or "mother" lode of the district, 
 could only be reached by means of a deep shaft. Neither 
 Sampson or Smith had the means to sink a shaft as deep 
 as was required to reach the lode, especially when there 
 was the possibility of the vein dipping or turning off in 
 some unknown direction. 
 
 It was several hundred feet from the shaft-house of the 
 Pay Rock to the nearest lines of the Sampson and Smith 
 properties, and altho it was conceded by mining ex 
 perts that the vein was probably there, the two claim hold 
 ers had no actual outcroppings of the vein upon the sur-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 31 
 
 face of their properties to more definitely determine their 
 operations, tinder these circumstances, Sampson agreed 
 with Smith to sink a shaft on the supposed boundary line 
 between the two properties. This would enable them to 
 work both properties thru a single shaft, the expense of 
 which was quite within their united means. 
 
 They sank the shaft, they struck the lode, and each of 
 them produced some good ore. Then they fell out, Smith 
 having discovered by means of a new survey that the shaft 
 was wholly on his property instead of being upon the 
 boundary line, and he chose to make demands upon Samp 
 son accordingly. 
 
 Then Sampson secured an injunction to prevent Smith 
 from confiscating the shaft, and thus their slender fortunes 
 soon melted in attorneys' fees. Next, the different attor 
 neys interested put attachments on the properties in order 
 to secure their fees. Then Sampson, who was a widower, 
 died, leaving several minor heirs in the East to inherit his 
 interest in the property. Smith still lived on, however, 
 but he could not shake off the clutch of the lawyers. 
 
 A long time then elapsed, during which the claims were 
 jumped by new parties, neither of the claims having been 
 patented, and the annual assessment required on them by 
 the government having not been kept up in the interval. 
 Smith was now at his wit's end, and all of the parties in 
 terested were forced to get together to fight the jumpers; 
 all of which circumstances having gone to make up what 
 is familiarly known in mining circles as litigation ; and lit 
 igation is the dread vampire of mining on the Great 
 Divide. For there are today scores of rich and valuable 
 mining properties in Colorado that are hopelessly involved 
 and wholly unproductive solely because of a vast tangle of 
 litigation. 
 
 Now, Bayard, in the course of his mercantile business, 
 had been forced to levy a claim upon the Smith property, 
 by reason of his being a heavy creditor of Smith's. So, 
 getting in touch with other business men having similar 
 claims, he called a meeting of the attorneys interested in 
 both properties, the various heirs of Sampson, the well 
 beaten Smith, and all other parties, having claims against
 
 32 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the properties. At this and several subsequent meetings 
 the diplomatic merchant succeeded in securing the agree 
 ment of all parties to the following arrangement : 
 
 First, to present a united front and make terms with 
 the jumpers. Second, to permanently merge the two prop 
 erties and organize a stock company, issuing stock to all 
 parties interested according to the justice and value of 
 their claims. And third, to hold the balance of the stock 
 in the treasury, to be sold as occasion required, to raise 
 funds for the development of the long idle properties, 
 which were truly of great value. The natural outcome of 
 the whole affair was the complete restoration of harmony 
 between all parties, the satisfaction and peaceful exit of 
 the jumpers, and the permanent organization of the 
 Sampson-Smith corporation with Thomas Bayard as its 
 president and treasurer. 
 
 With this accomplished, it was naturally up to Bayard 
 to put the property on its old-time paying basis, and to 
 do this he must have a competent manager. Thru long 
 experience in the course of his mercantile business, he 
 was quite wary of that portion of the mining fraternity of 
 the West, who, professing to be expert managers, really 
 allowed a mine to go to rack and ruin, as long as they 
 could sit at a gambling table and puff choice cigars. As a 
 shrewd business man, Bayard wanted to develop the Samp 
 son-Smith as quickly and economically as possible, for he 
 believed it to be a great property. 
 
 Upon receipt, therefore, of his friend's letter, in which 
 Theodore was so warmly recommended, Bayard decided 
 that if on mere personal contact the young man impressed 
 him favorably, he would prefer him to the risk and exces 
 sive expense of a certified and duly proven mining expert, 
 promising himself that if the youth really made good to 
 increase his salary from time to time as he proved worthy, 
 to the full pay of an expert. And later, when he came in 
 personal contact with the bright young fellow, he felt that 
 he instantly recognized a personality imbued with rare 
 intelligence, capability and loyalty. It was enough. Here 
 was a fellow who, under proper guidance and encourage 
 ment, would work with energy and skill, and above all,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 33 
 
 obtain results. So after a few preliminaries, in which 
 Bayard advised the young engineer to look up the former 
 workmen of the properties and to hold himself quite open, 
 considering his lack of experience, to the suggestions 
 which they might make as to the development of the prop 
 erty, the merchant closed a contract with the youth, giving 
 him carte blanche to manage the property and bring it to 
 a state of full and steady production. 
 
 " Young man, do your best. Never let up until you 
 have ore on the dump, and are shipping every day," 
 was Bayard's parting injunction, as Theodore left the office 
 to take the train for Plume. 
 
 This, then, was the worthy, who, passing Standish at 
 the Forks of the Creek on his way to Denver, was destined 
 to play no small part in that party's future career. 
 
 Arriving at Plume, Theodore naturally sought the com 
 forts of the New Windsor. He was very warmly welcomed 
 by the business and laboring men of the village, as his ap 
 pearance meant that another active producer would soon 
 be added to the district, with the consequent disbursement 
 of thousands of dollars each month among the citizens of 
 Plume. 
 
 For several weeks Theodore and his men toiled day and 
 night upon the abandoned shaft and workings of the 
 Sampson-Smith, which had long since been almost wholly 
 submerged, and the pumping plant greatly damaged by 
 water and rust. And in his strenuous labors upon this 
 property, the young collegian developed many of those 
 qualities which later in life established him as an engi 
 neer and mining expert of national repute. 
 
 Within three months from the date of his arrival Theo 
 dore and his men had ore on the Sampson-Smith dump, 
 and from that time and for several succeeding years there 
 were always ore cars at the C. C. & U. siding at the mine, 
 loaded with Sampson-Smith ore consigned to the smelters 
 in Denver. 
 
 Mrs. Rogan was more than delighted with her hand 
 some young guest, and had the walls of a sunny east room 
 covered with a double thickness of wall paper in order to
 
 34 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 partially conceal the glaring defects of the New Windsor's 
 primitive architecture. 
 
 Theodore soon became popular with the C. C. & U. 
 train men and the balance of the hotel boarders, especially 
 the mining fraternity, who found in him very congenial 
 and intelligent company. 
 
 Mistress Mollie fought very shy of him for a long time 
 after his arrival. Letters came regularly from Standish, 
 and the girl's heart was true ; but a person as highly mag 
 netic and attractive as Theodore was could not help but 
 deeply impress this mountain belle. In course of time 
 she could distinguish his quick step sounding on the thin 
 floor of the veranda, and so acute is woman's instinct of 
 the differentiations of the opposite sex that it was not long 
 until she could distinguish it wherever it sounded in the 
 shaking structure of the house itself. Finally the keen 
 psychic sense of this pretty Irish lass could detect Theo 
 dore's magnetic personality in the very atmosphere of the 
 hotel, so pronounced at times that it would fairly discon 
 cert her, and she would flee the house in an effort to regain 
 her composure. Ah! Supreme, imperious Nature. To 
 vindicate your immutable laws of sex attraction, you would 
 bring a woman from Alaska and a man from Patagonia, 
 to meet and wed in Panama. 
 
 After many conscientious interviews with herself, in 
 which she could not help but recognize the young engi 
 neer's growing importance in the community, she deter 
 mined that she had best meet the issue bravely by estab 
 lishing an honest open friendship with this handsome 
 down-easter, and not endure the silent torture of an un- 
 expressible emotion which racked her soul in his near 
 presence. 
 
 And so it began. When an impressionable young 
 woman takes up a friendship with as magnetic and 
 charming a young man as Theodore Dodge, it is but a 
 short flight to something more serious. 
 
 She soon found herself constantly comparing him with 
 Standish. The contrast was indeed striking. The tall, 
 angular form of the latter did not compare favorably, in 
 her eyes at least, with the supple, graceful figure of the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 35 
 
 young mine superintendent. The hesitating, drawling 
 speech of Standish, whose features were often convulsed 
 by a distressing twitching caused by the tiny muscles of 
 his face vainly endeavoring to follow his swifter thought, 
 did not compare well with Theodore's bright face and 
 quick, expressive speech and extensive vocabulary. 
 
 Standish was a great, rough, plain-clothes man. Theo 
 dore was as neat as a polished silk hat stowed snugly away 
 in a smart leather box. His air and manner displayed all 
 the polished refinement and culture of a well-bred college 
 man. And then the money end of it. Standish always so 
 poor, self-denying, poverty stricken. She constantly 
 thought of his promise to send her the ring. When would 
 he deign to send it? Ah ! Standish, you must hurry. The 
 time to give a lady a ring is when she has once accepted 
 you gloriously into' her heart. Indeed, the ring is often 
 the key that locks your love in her heart. If you do not 
 get that key and lock it safely within, the door is liable 
 to spring open and your love fly away. 
 
 But Theodore, good, generous boy that he was, the 
 smoke from his fragrant cigars as he and the train men 
 puffed them in the office Sunday mornings smelled de- 
 liciously thru the rough floor of her room, which was 
 directly above the hotel office. And Mollie, as most 
 women also confess they do, rather liked the smell of a 
 good cigar; but Standish he was so puritanical. He did 
 not smoke nor indulge in intoxicants, even ever so little 
 for company's sake, nor even swear. But he was good, 
 and as generous perhaps as he could afford to be. She 
 remembered the books he had given her and the nice 
 birthday present he had given her mother. Really these 
 comparisons did not leave him in such a bad light after 
 all. But just now he was so far away and Theodore so 
 near. And then always that long promised and never 
 materializing ring. 
 
 The next phenomenon of this maiden's thought was her 
 struggle with that still unsolved mystery a woman's 
 curiosity. " Who were Theodore's parents? What was 
 his salary? What books did he read? Do you suppose
 
 36 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 he has a sweetheart down East? Is she a blonde or 
 brunette? Where did he meet her?" 
 
 Quite unknown to her mother she often visited his room 
 while he was at the mine ; and boldly searching his letters, 
 looking thru his books and examining his collection of 
 photographs, only served her intense feminine curiosity 
 to that end, that her secret and most reprehensible investi 
 gations soon carried her up to the man himself. 
 
 We must, however, give Mollie full credit for not trying 
 to make a bold conquest of Theodore, either as a friend or 
 as a lover. She was, in the beginning, honestly desirous 
 of establishing a straightforward friendship with him, the 
 same as she had long maintained with all the other young 
 men of the village. But in this case, having entered the 
 lists with a most irresistible personality, it was as impos 
 sible for her to separate friendship from downright love as 
 it is to distinguish the emotion of a caress from that of a 
 kiss. 
 
 As for Theodore he was perfectly heart-free. Life was 
 monotonous in Plume. He frankly confessed that he 
 liked the girl from the first moment he saw her, and he 
 felt his heart reaching out to her from the beginning. 
 He could not help it. When a man possesses a great 
 warm heart, he naturally possesses a great love. This 
 love reaches out for the things it desires as naturally and 
 passionately as the tendrils of a vine reach upward toward 
 the golden sun; as the swift bird leaps exultant into the 
 blue heavens; as the soul forever seeks its affinity, Theo 
 dore's love responded to Mollie's attractions as sponta 
 neously as the morning-glory opens up its petals to the 
 first beam of the rising sun. 
 
 All things that are perfect are spontaneous. In the 
 great chronicles of man's existence, History and Art, the 
 things that he admires most are those which sprang 
 up free, at-the-instant-gushing-forth ; leaping gloriously, 
 spontaneously, without conscious effort, from out the cru 
 cible of Existence. 
 
 Creation itself gushes forth spontaneous out of the vast 
 fount of Nature; and what is so perfect as that which 
 perfectly imitates Nature.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 37 
 
 At the command of God the World sprang forth from 
 Chaos perfect. Perfect to that life which was created then. 
 Perfect now to that soul which comprehends its noble 
 unity. 
 
 Thus Mollie's brave little friendship fluttered a brief 
 instant on the ways of her conscience, and then slipped 
 without a ripple into that warm, passionate ocean of love, 
 whose surging tides beat fiercely within the portals of her 
 heart. 
 
 It was Thanksgiving Day that the final consummation 
 came. In the evening a big dance was to be given in the 
 great ore mill of the Pay Rock, and Mollie had accepted 
 Theodore's invitation to attend. 
 
 She had taken the huge Bible from off the parlor stand 
 for sufficient space to write a letter. She mused long over 
 the epistle, several times rising to her feet and walking 
 back and forth in an endeavor to solve what to her was a 
 problem. The truth was, however, that there was no 
 problem. It had been solved for some time. She loved 
 Theodore Dodge, she had ceased to love Standish Brown. 
 
 Altho her heart sheltered the new love, and had wholly 
 driven out the old, yet her conscience stoutly defended the 
 old. And now her guilty little heart was struggling to 
 force her conscience to boldly release her old lover. This 
 done, all bonds between Standish and her would be sev 
 ered. 
 
 She felt intuitively that the letter must be written and 
 posted immediately in the thought that something embar 
 rassing might happen that very night if she did not, and 
 her conscience did not propose to be compromised. 
 
 After many pauses, certain knittings of her white brow 
 and determined compressions of her dimpled mouth, the 
 letter was finally finished. She read it over for the last 
 time, folded it, placed it in an envelope, and addressed it 
 to " Mr. Standish Brown, Denver, Colo. Care of Colonel 
 Charles Rose." Then going to her mother's room and 
 obtaining a postage stamp, she affixed it to the envelope, 
 and throwing a shawl about her shoulders, she passed up 
 the street to the postoffice. 
 
 Slip went the envelope into the outgoing mail-box.
 
 38 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Mollie's form stiffened visibly as the missive left her 
 grasp. She felt almost as if she had lost a part of herself, 
 and her bosom heaved with deep emotion. Conscience 
 wished that she had not sent it, but her heart told her it 
 was well. She stood for a moment gasping in her ex 
 treme trepidation, and then passed out. On her way 
 home, however, she had recovered herself sufficiently to 
 think rapturously of the dance that evening, and by the 
 time she reached the parlor again and replaced the Bible 
 on the stand, her face was radiant. The letter she had 
 written and posted had set her free. 
 
 They went to the dance that night in a stylish sleigh 
 drawn by a fleet black roadster. The air was stinging cold. 
 They had two miles to go and they fairly flew. The 
 vast silent crags of the mountains towered dizzily above 
 them, and the stars seemed to almost spit and crackle, 
 emitting vivid electric sparks of dazzling green and yel 
 low. The merry jingle of the sleigh-bells, the sharp beat 
 of the horse's hoofs upon the icy roadbed, and the 
 "crunch-crunch" of the sleigh runners over the frozen 
 snow, were the only sounds to be heard, save the low rush 
 of the creek down the gulch, and their young, free hearts 
 beat high in the gay anticipation of the evening's pleasure. 
 
 The ball proved to be a grand success. It was given for 
 the benefit of the Plume Volunteer Fire Department, the 
 proceeds to be applied to the purchase of a hose-cart, house 
 and fittings for the protection of the village's several score 
 of wooden store buildings and dwellings. The village 
 already possessed an excellent water supply, piped from a 
 large reservoir a mile up the gulch. There were also a 
 sufficient number of fire-plugs in the town, but a cart and 
 hose were needed to carry the water from the fire-plugs 
 to the scene of any conflagration which might visit the 
 community. 
 
 The management of the dance had cleared the floor of 
 the big ore mill of all fixtures and machinery possible. The 
 rafters were decorated with fragrant pine boughs and 
 strings of alternated red cranberries and white popped 
 corn ; and the music stand was decorated with red, white 
 and blue bunting, the orchestra consisting of a first and 
 second violin, a bass viol and a flute.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 39 
 
 Old Peter Brown played the first violin and was the 
 caller. He looked dreamily at the fast gathering throng 
 of merry dancers as he tuned his fiddle. It reminded him 
 of old times in Iowa, and his eyes moistened visibly in 
 the retrospection. Several of the married ladies had 
 brought their children, and the little ones, gathered in 
 front of the music stand, were listening delightedly to the 
 sharp "plunk-plunk" of the violins and the soft tremolo 
 of the flute, as the musicians tuned them from time to 
 time. The gentlemen outnumbered the ladies at least 
 five to one, and it seemed as if every lady, young or old, 
 was fairly smothered with attention. 
 
 Mollie certainly looked beautiful that evening, and was 
 the undisputed queen of the ball. Of a neat, plump figure 
 and a well-rounded bust, her luxuriant locks of wavy hair, 
 black and glossy as a crow's wing, were gathered up in a 
 shining mass set high on her shapely head, contrasting 
 handsomely with her clear white brows, dimpling rosy 
 cheeks, and the sparkling animation of a pair of bright 
 Irish blue eyes constantly flashing the eloquence of her 
 keen enjoyment. 
 
 They danced far into the night. Old Peter's voice was 
 getting noticeably husky from the calling, and the ever 
 resourceful Theodore, with Mollie on his arm, slipped up 
 to the old veteran and offered him a bottle. Peter peered 
 slyly down at Mollie and said, " Well, as long as my boy 
 ain't here, little one, I guess I'll take a bit of this snake 
 bite." 
 
 Mollie laughed, but she did not allude to Standish. 
 After passing the bottle to his fellow musicians, Peter re 
 turned it to Theodore with his thanks, and soon the old 
 veteran's voice rang out again to the merry throng. 
 
 "Away there, now, gents. Get your partners for the 
 Munnie Musk." And as Peter played on thru the long 
 night, each bar of his music carried Mollie, his son's 
 promised bride, farther and farther into the arms and 
 affections of Theodore Dodge. 
 
 Mollie had never known such happiness before. As 
 she and Theodore glided about the big mill in the dreamy 
 rhythm of the waltz, their feet, hearts and souls beat in
 
 40 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 perfect unison. During the brief intervals in which 
 Theodore left her side to smoke and chat with the men, 
 she contrasted his sparkling face and easy manners with 
 the awkward speech and slouching gait of her former 
 lover. Indeed, she several times wondered in the midst 
 of her gay exhilaration of how she had ever been able to 
 tolerate the rough, unpolished manners of Standish so 
 long. 
 
 " But there must have been something about him that 
 was attractive," she mused. 
 
 Yes, there undoubtedly was, Mollie. Beneath that rough 
 and awkward exterior there was a noble soul, but it would 
 take the stern touch of the grim fighting years for the 
 greater inner man to break thru the thick crust of the 
 outer man, to at last reveal the true virtue within. 
 
 When Theodore parted from Mollie that night in the 
 little parlor of the New Windsor he kissed her. That kiss 
 sealed their love for all time. And that same night, as she 
 slept and dreamed, the form of her old lover appeared 
 within the theater of her soul. She faced him fearlessly, 
 she motioned him to depart. Her finger was steady, her 
 arm rigid, her figure commanding; and slowly the tall, 
 gaunt form dissolved and vanished from her view. Con 
 science had thus given her the license and the authority. 
 Only eight hours before she had received Theodore's first 
 kiss she had mailed the letter which had set her free. Her 
 honor and her conscience were therefore inviolate.
 
 BOOK FOUR 
 
 THE HEART OF THE EMERALD 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 STANDISH had been in Denver six months. He was 
 successful in securing work from the very start, 
 Colonel Rose having employed him as a watchman 
 to protect the warehouse of the Western Provision Co., 
 a large wholesale house which handled a general line of 
 provisions, such as were in demand in the West at that 
 time. Colonel was the president of the concern, and it 
 did a large business. 
 
 Standish was required to watch the warehouse at night, 
 sweep and dust the office and its fixtures, and work upon 
 such accounts as might be given him by the foreman. The 
 work was comparatively light, the pay good ; and in spite 
 of the difficulties of sleeping in the day time in a town 
 where the cracking of the pistols and the whoop of the 
 cowboys were still of occasional occurrence, Standish en 
 joyed the long nights and made good use of his time. 
 
 It would be difficult to enumerate the books he read 
 during his spare hours. As with nearly all young men, 
 he chose the works of battle, love making, and of travel. 
 In this latter form of literature he fairly reveled, hav 
 ing access to the generous sized library of the Colonel. 
 
 The Colonel had treated him with the utmost consid 
 eration. He was pleased to note that his protege was 
 careful and proficient in the execution of all the duties 
 required of him, and a son could scarcely have received 
 more attention than was shown him by this old friend 
 of his father's. 
 
 He was also often invited to dinner by Mrs. Rose, but 
 rarely did he accept. He felt awkward and out of place, 
 and indeed the temperament of this young mountaineer 
 
 41
 
 42 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 leaned decidedly toward the company of self. He had 
 even then begun to realize the company of Mind, and his 
 brain fairly seethed with those flying thoughts, which 
 seek to fill that mental vacuum where only harum-scarum 
 spirits of youth have reigned before. 
 
 The six months had passed swiftly. Spring and sum 
 mer had flown. The snow was again visible on the foot 
 hills, for upon the main range it lies eternal, and the 
 beautiful autumn was being gradually pinched to the 
 gauntness of winter. 
 
 Standish had made the first rounds of the warehouse, 
 cleaned the office, and as the last sheet of the account was 
 checked which the foreman had handed him that eve 
 ning, he put it away in its receptacle and seated him 
 self near the fire. 
 
 Presently he unbuckled his money belt, w;hich he wore 
 around his waist between his outside and his undershirt; 
 and shaking it gently and pushing it carefully with his 
 fingers, he pulled from it a small wisp of cotton. It con 
 tained the ring. 
 
 Every month he had remitted the larger share of his 
 salary to his father, but he had always retained a portion, 
 saved from his personal expense money with extreme 
 self-denial, with which to buy the ring. 
 
 He had first seen it in a jeweler's window. It was a 
 beautiful tho small diamond solitare, neatly set in an 
 elegant gold band. For two months he had feasted his 
 his eyes upon it, without daring to ask the price. But 
 the third month, however, he took courage as he felt the 
 edges of several gold pieces in his belt, and entering the 
 store he anxiously inquired the price. His countenance 
 fell as the clerk told him. Then it rose again, as he fig 
 ured that in three more months he could buy it. 
 
 " Don't don't sell it," he said appealingly to the clerk, 
 "in three months I will come again and get it." 
 
 And as he passed out with his heavy lumbering tread 
 and awkward slouch, the old clerk smiled to himself 
 and wondered what that young giant could want with 
 that kind of a ring. Sometimes the cowboys purchased 
 rings, thru which they tied their gaudy cravats, but they
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 43 
 
 were generally satisfied with a plain gold or silver band 
 ring. 
 
 The old clerk, who was a German Jew, ejaculated as he 
 watched the retreating form of Standish, "Mein Gott! 
 Vere am I? Ach! Yes! I vas out Vest!" as tho that was 
 a sufficient explanation for anything strange or out of 
 the ordinary. 
 
 At the end of the appointed time Standish appeared 
 punctually as he had said. The old clerk recognized him 
 instantly, and the ring was purchased. The beaming- 
 clerk offered to put it in a neat velvet box, but Stan- 
 dish declined; and wrapping it in a piece of cotton, he 
 had thus tucked the precious trinket safely into his belt. 
 And as he sat there by the fire that night, and turned 
 the sparkling jewel in the light of the gas-jet, a beautiful 
 Play was enacted in his soul. He was enraptured with 
 its scenes, was lost in its inimitable art, and unconsciously 
 applauding the actors, he saw the last curtain drop with 
 keen regret. 
 
 He did not at this time realize the rare phenomenon 
 of this Play, or give its wonders the slightest analysis. 
 In later years, however, when he had come to a full real 
 ization of its marvels, he invariably removed his hat upon 
 his entrance to the foyer, and carefully filed the programs 
 for future reference. 
 
 The Play this particular night, was centered about a 
 beautiful woman, Mollie. The only other characters in the 
 Play were himself and several cherubs of children, and a 
 happy grandfather, Peter. They all lived together in 
 a magnificently furnished home and all was love and 
 perfect happiness. 
 
 Then he turned from the Play to the glittering dia 
 mond, and fondly soliloquized, "And this is only the be 
 ginning, soon we will strike the lode in the 40 Rounds, 
 and I will be rich, and Mollie will be my wife." 
 
 With a happy sigh he returned the ring to the belt, 
 and thrusting his hand into the inside pocket of his coat 
 he pulled out two letters. One was from his father, the 
 other from Mollie. Like the stern self-denying Puritan
 
 44 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 that he was, he tore open his father's letter first, reserving 
 the sweets for the last. 
 
 This was his father's letter: 
 
 " My dear son : 
 
 " Your old dad is enjoying good health and spirits these days, 
 and is pleased to acknowledge the draft of $45.00 which you sent 
 on the first inst. I begin to feel quite encouraged about the 
 mine now. Have paid up the store folks, and all our indebtedness 
 is cleared up. Also have on hand a total of $115.65 in cash, 
 which is the basis of our next operations in the mine. 
 
 " I made another $5.00 playing at a dance last night. Most 
 all the town ladies were there, including Mollie. She is stepping 
 pretty gay with that young mine superintendent, Dodge, whom I 
 wrote you about some time ago as being in charge of the old 
 Sampson-Smith. Say, but you ought to have seen those 
 Plume miners hoof it. Almost a regular stag affair. Will prob 
 ably have several more dances this winter now that the town's 
 woke up. I'm glad of it, for the money comes easy, and will 
 help us buy more powder and fuse for the 40 Rounds. 
 
 " Can't you try and come up for a couple of days? It won't 
 cost much, and your old daddy is getting awful anxious to see 
 his boy. Your affectionate father, 
 
 " PETER BROWN." 
 
 Standish slowly refolded the letter and replaced it 
 in its envelope. 
 
 " So Mollie went to the dance with that young Dodge," 
 he mused doubtfully, "But pshaw, she ought to have a 
 little pleasure." 
 
 The remark was hopefully philosophical, but in his 
 heart there was a decidedly queer feeling. 
 
 " By Jove ! I really had ought to go up for a day or 
 two," he continued, as he placed the letter in his pocket, 
 "but I guess it would be fairer to have dad come down 
 here. A chat with the Colonel would do him a world 
 of good." 
 
 Thus this puritanical fellow was so deadly in earnest 
 with everything he undertook, that the bare thought of a 
 little recreation and pleasure for himself, was treated by 
 him as little short of a crime. Stoical, persistent adher 
 ence to a cherished plan, this was one of the great char-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 45 
 
 acteristics of his mentality, and no doubt his long years of 
 monotonous unremunerative labor in the tunnel of the 40 
 Rounds had largely aided in fostering it. Sternly serious 
 he was, almost to the point of ridicule. A sort of modern 
 ized John Brown. A sheaf of hard winter wheat in which 
 the winnower finds no chaff. 
 
 He then proceeded to open the letter from Mollie. It 
 ran as follows: 
 
 " Mr. Standish Brown, 
 
 " Denver, Colo. 
 
 " Dear Sir : Without the slightest consideration for one who 
 has, until now, fully believed in your love; you have persisted in 
 making your absence from our town, and from my presence very 
 noticeable. 
 
 " I have waited in vain for that ring which you were going to 
 send me. I believe that I made a great mistake in accepting any 
 attentions from you whatever, and I write this letter to inform 
 you that as far as I am concerned, our engagement is entirely 
 ended. 
 
 " If you have any use for the few trinkets which you have 
 presented to me in times past, I will be pleased to send them to 
 you upon your request. Respectfully, 
 
 " MOLLIE KATHERINE ROGAN." 
 
 Standish did not move for several moments after the 
 perusal of this letter. 
 
 "My God! It can not be true," he cried almost in 
 coherently at last. "Where where, is the letter she 
 wrote me only just last week," he moaned; and pulling 
 out that particular letter from his pocket with shaking 
 fingers, he read aloud the entire epistle which he had re 
 ceived from her the previous week, ending with the 
 words, "Your loving Mollie." 
 
 "No! No! Its some darned infamous joke," he cried; 
 but alas! As he read her last letter over and over again, 
 he recognized the well known chirography of Mollie Ro- 
 gan, somewhat stiffened and formal to be sure, but never 
 theless, hers beyond dispute. 
 
 "That's it! That's it! That dance which father 
 writes about. It's that darned dance," he moaned wildly. 
 
 Bowing his head, he slowly pulled the ring from the
 
 46 
 
 belt again and turned it in the light of the lamp. It 
 sparkled brightly as ever, its beams were perfect. Then 
 his trembling hands dropped, the trinket fell to the floor, 
 and slowly succumbing to an unutterable grief, the youth's 
 tall form shook in convulsive sobs. 
 
 A few evenings after this incident, as he was going 
 to work, he met the brakeman who had just come in from 
 his day's run to Plume and return. 
 
 "Hello there, Standish," he said, as they shook hands 
 heartily. "Two feet of snow on the level at Plume. Live 
 ly camp these days. Had a big dance there last Thurs 
 day night. By the way, your old girl has gone and done 
 it. She's going to be married in two weeks. Goes back 
 East to young Dodge's home in Ohio for the wedding 
 trip. See ! Here's a bid to the wedding. Us boys is goin' 
 to get 'em a fine set of dishes. Bully girl, Mollie, and 
 they say that young Dodge is way up in his business. 
 Heard they were going to bring him down here to Denver 
 for a better job. Great things these college fellers fall 
 into, Standish. Got common folks like you and me 
 skinned a mile. They get to be experts in some line, 
 and the next thing you know they're the whole thing. 
 Darned if I ain't thinking of taking up a correspon 
 dence course in something myself. When you going up 
 to Plume? Saw your old man the other day. Says he's 
 all 0. K., and that you're talking about working on the 
 tunnel again." 
 
 Standish listened to the brakeman's talk like one in a 
 dream. He nodded, smiled, and shook his head like an 
 automaton, and gazed intently with his burning eyes 
 at the wedding invitation which the brakeman handed 
 him. "Yesj it was all too true. Mollie had coldly thrown 
 him over, and was lost to him forever." 
 
 " Well, so long, Standish, hope to see you when you go 
 up the line," and the brakeman passed up the street 
 
 On his way to his lodgings the next morning Stan- 
 dish stepped into the jeweler's shot). 
 
 "Say, mister, how much will you give me for that 
 ring I bought here a few days ago?" he asked, addressing 
 the old clerk, who looked up at him in mild astonish-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 47 
 
 meut, and who instantly replied in that vein of well 
 feigned indifference characteristic of his tradesman craft ; 
 
 "I doned vant it, my friend, I doned vant it." At the 
 same time calculating with lightning instinct of -what a 
 profit he could make on such a transaction. 
 
 Standish started away. And the Jew fearfully fright 
 ened that he would actually get away without further 
 parley, leaned hastily over the counter and said, gesticu 
 lating in characteristic manner with both hands. 
 
 " I tell you vat I do. I gife you one hundred twendy 
 fife dollar, und call it done." 
 
 As he had originally sold the ring to Standish for 
 $150.00, his offer represented a clear profit to himself 
 and a corresponding loss to Standish of $25.00. 
 
 " Here's your ring. Give me the money," replied 
 Standish, deliberately pulling open his money belt. "I 
 thought I needed it, but I guess I can do without it now," 
 he added half apologetically. 
 
 The eager clerk examined the stone with the eyes 
 of an expert, and found it in exactly the same condition 
 as when sold. 
 
 " I vill hafe to gife you a check," he said. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, it's as good as the money," re 
 plied Standish. 
 
 And a few moments later as his customer took the check 
 and passed out of the shop, the Jew muttered to himself, 
 "Eezy monee." And rubbing his hands together and 
 dancing about the room in high glee, he joyously shouted, 
 "Nextd." 
 
 The door did actually fly open, but it was not the store 
 door. It was only the door of the cuckoo clock suddenly 
 flying open. And as the tiny bird like a figure leaped 
 out, bowed its head, spread its wings, and called "cuckoo," 
 once, for the half hour, and the little door closed again 
 with a sharp clap; the old clerk cried out with a gleeful 
 laugh, "Ha! Ha! Hal He vas a cuckoo, ey?" and putting 
 the ring back in the window, he laughed again. 
 
 "Yah! He! He! He! He vas a cuckoo, doned it!" and 
 the incident was closed.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 At the breast of the tunnel of the 40 Rounds, the figures 
 of two men could be distinguished in the dim candle 
 light. They were Peter and Standish Brown. 
 
 The steady "click-click" of the hammer as it fell upon 
 the drill, and the constant "drip-drip" of the water from 
 the roof of the tunnel were the only sounds; the men, 
 silently intent upon their work, did not converse. 
 
 It was the middle of January. Peter had thawed out 
 the dynamite and cut the fuses, as Standish drove the 
 last hole. The work seemed to tire Standish quite notice 
 ably. He had not worked at any severe manual labor 
 since he left Plume, and his strokes greatly lacked the 
 fierce energy of that last desperate attack upon the granite 
 which he had made just before he left for Denver. There 
 was a good reason for this, poor fellow. This time there 
 was no longer the bright eyes or love of sweet Mollie 
 Rogan to inspire and strengthen his arm. 
 
 Out dropped the drill upon the rocky floor sending a 
 sharp clang echoing dully thru the long dim vault. The 
 last hole was finished. 
 
 Standish dropped wearily upon the short stool to get 
 his breath. And as he sat there a moment resting, his 
 father took up the candle and peered with keen scrutiny 
 into the five deep holes vhich his son had just drilled 
 into the breast. 
 
 " Um, it seems to me, son, that them holes is leaking," 
 he said in a deeply significant tone, after a brief exam 
 ination. 
 
 If so, it undoubtedly meant that they had struck the 
 lode. For a vein or lode in a mountain, invariably acts 
 as a gutter or drain, for all the region that lies above it. 
 The water naturally following the fissure of the vein, 
 as the vein is composed of a much sqfter substance than 
 the solid granite of the mountain. In fact, nearly all the 
 
 49
 
 50 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 veins of the Pay Rock district were filled with this same 
 talcous substance, which nearly as soft and fine grained 
 as common chalk, holds the ore in suspension in rich glit 
 tering streaks. Thus water, trickling from the breast of a 
 tunnel, is almost a sure indication of the wall of a vein. 
 As the vein carrying the Avater, is simply the wedge-like 
 filling between the two granite walls of the fissure, con 
 taining and enclosing the softer vein, exactly as lies the 
 soft filling between the harder layers of the baked cake. 
 
 It was quite evident that the old veteran was getting 
 excited. 
 
 " Gee-whil-e-kees, sonny, look at that," he said, point 
 ing to several drops of water sparkling in one of the holes 
 as the light of the candle shone in. "Great Jupiter! I 
 really believe its the lode." 
 
 Standish followed the drift of his father's reinarks, 
 but somehow he did not seem to enthuse the slightest. 
 He appeared like a man under a spell, and as his father 
 charged the holes, he wearily .tamped them. It was the 
 first work in the tunnel since his return from Denver. 
 
 Carrying the tools back towards the mouth of the 
 tunnel they lighted the fuses, and emerged once more 
 into the light of day for the dynamite to do its work. 
 
 They did not tarry long outside, for instead of the 
 bright sunshine of the morning, a fierce storm was rag 
 ing on the Divide, and it was really difficult to distin 
 guish their cabin close by thru the clouds of blinding 
 snow. There are no windows in a mine. The elements 
 rage, or the sun shines brightly, unobserved by the miners 
 burrowing deep in the bowels of the mountains. 
 
 It was late in the afternoon as they thus left the tun 
 nel and entered the cabin. They did not expect to 
 visit the tunnel again until the next morning, leaving 
 it all that time to thoroly clear itself of the deadly dyna 
 mite fumes and gases. Soon they got the supper going, 
 ate it, cleared the table; and Standish, after reading a 
 short time, went to bed, very tired, and acting strangely 
 unlike himself. 
 
 Peter had noticed with considerable alarm his son's 
 excessive weariness, but had attributed it largely to the
 
 51 
 
 sudden change of altitude from Denver to Plume. The 
 previous day he had told him the details of Mollie's 
 wedding, Theodore's success with the Sampson-Smith, 
 and informed him of all those little news items not men 
 tioned in his letters. He had not written to him about 
 the wedding, having hoped that he would take it more 
 easily as the time passed with the flying weeks ; and altho 
 Standish had followed his father's narrative with ap 
 parent indifference, yet Peter could see that every detail 
 of it struck deeper and deeper into his already deeply 
 wounded soul. 
 
 In his anguish Standish accused himself of staying 
 away too long, of not having sent her a plain gold ring, 
 which would have served the purpose until he could 
 have purchased a better one. He compared the bright 
 thoughts and happy dreams of his home coming which 
 he had enjoyed previous to the receipt of Mollie's last 
 friendly letter, with this dreary, unhappy, heart break 
 ing return to Plume, snowed in as it was with all the fierce 
 blasts of winter. This wild play of the son's thoughts 
 was not wholly visible to the happy father, however, who 
 hobbled about at the sight of his son, as joyfully as 
 a faithful dog greets his master's return. 
 
 The next morning broke fair and beautiful, and Stan- 
 dish, somewhat refreshed by his night's sleep, coaxed his 
 father to go into the tunnel at once, to see if they had 
 really struck the lode. To tell the truth, he had plied his 
 labors so long and hopelessly in that terrible gray hole 
 thruout the long ^ears, that he could scarcely believe 
 that his task was so nearly accomplished. 
 
 He led the w r ay, breaking thru the deep snowdrifts, 
 panting and sweating. As he started to light the candles 
 at the door of the tunnel, his father who had followed 
 less precipitately, came up. 
 
 " My God ! Look there, son !" he cried eagerly. 
 
 Standish's eyes followed his pointing finger. In the 
 little gutter, cut so conscientiously by himself the 
 whole length of the tunnel in the right edge of the 
 floor, was a stream of water filling it to the full ; and the 
 fresh layer of sediment upon the entire floor of the tun-
 
 52 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 nel, showed that for a while the stream had flowed deep 
 and swift enough to cover the floor itself. 
 
 Yes, there was undoubtedly a fine stream of water 
 flowing from the tunnel of the 40 Rounds. And a care 
 ful examination disclosed the fact that the entire ledge 
 of rock which sloped abruptly away from the tunnel's 
 mouth, had been swept of the snow and a mantle of ice 
 lay there instead. The water gushing warm from the 
 tunnel, having frozen upon the ledge as the stream flowed 
 over the rocks toward the creek. In fact, it was a frozen 
 cascade. 
 
 Inspired by this undoubted proof of their striking 
 the lode at last, the two men rushed wildly forward into 
 the depths. Arriving at the breast, which was jagged 
 and scarred from the effects of the blast, they saw water 
 spurting from several holes; while upon the floor was a 
 large quantity of soft vein matter deposited there by the 
 blast and the rush of the waters when first released. 
 Standish picked up a piece of the fallen rock. At one 
 end, it sparkled like a mass of brilliant garnets. 
 
 It was ORE. 
 
 Thrusting the candle into his father's hand, he seized a 
 pick, and drove it into the breast. It sank into the mass 
 with a soft chug, sounding as if it had struck a bank 
 of clay. He pulled it out, and thrusting in a shovel, he 
 brought out shovelful after shovelful of heavy talc, 
 mixed with masses of ore. 
 
 That last shot had penetrated the long sought for lode 
 of the 40 Rounds. They were fabulously rich. 
 
 Old Peter shouted like a demon, and grabbed up pieces 
 of the rich stuff and tried to eat them, cutting his tongue 
 severely on the sharp edges. He licked one particularly 
 rich looking piece with his bloody tongue as tho it were 
 a piece of sugar. In his ravings over his new found wealth 
 he almost forgot his own son. But finally recovering 
 himself, he glanced at Standish. 
 
 After Standish had fully satisfied himself that they had 
 really struck the lode, he seemed quite unnerved. In 
 stead of a great joy filling his heart, he groaned with
 
 " And turning to the sheer blank wall, he drove the pick at it 
 with almost superhuman force."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 53 
 
 unspeakable anguish. The rare sparkle of the beautiful 
 ore seemed to mock him. 
 
 "Molliel Mollie!" he moaned in agonizing protest, 
 "If I had only known it. One more foot into this accursed 
 granite would have given you to me." And crazed by the 
 thought, he again seized the pick. 
 
 " God Almighty !" he cried, lifting his wild, haggard 
 eyes upward, and raising the pick menacingly, "You have 
 robbed me of her, curse you, curse you. Satan himself 
 could not have devised a more unholy trick than this." 
 And turning to the sheer blank wall, he drove the pick at 
 it with almost superhuman force, the tool breaking in his 
 hands. 
 
 The Lord of the World had indeed placed the pre 
 cious ore just one foot beyond his reach. That foot of 
 granite had cost the young miner his bride. 
 
 It is thus that men face Destiny, even to the smallest 
 fraction of time. Its massive jaws shut in the lightning's 
 flash. A watch marks the seconds, but Destiny splits 
 them, and its decree is as irrevocable as death. 
 
 Mollie's change of heart and her marriage was a ter 
 rible shock- to Standish. It was the act of a drama in 
 which the hero is inmeshed in difficulties, the cause of 
 which he is largely in ignorance of; but the falling of 
 this foot of granite, was an act in which the villain stood 
 revealed. That villain was Destiny. 
 
 The mighty blow of the pick which Standish had 
 struck, was a wild despairing protest. A vain endeavor 
 to slay the monster. But Destiny smiles in the faces of 
 its victims, and whips them ever pitilessly onward up the 
 steep road of Life. 
 
 Peter had by this time regained his senses sufficiently 
 to hear the wild cursings of his son. He saw the mighty 
 blow of the pick which shattered it in pieces, and a mo 
 ment later he saw him stretched rigid upon the wet 
 muddy floor of the tunnel. 
 
 " Oh ! God ! Oh, sweet, tender Jesus, forgive my boy," 
 he cried, "His wrongs have made him demented, or he 
 never would have said it." he moaned in despair. And
 
 54 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 kneeling over the rigid form of the' unhappy youth, 
 Peter prayed for his forgiveness, and wept bitterly. 
 
 There in the rock-bound heart of the Emerald, drip 
 ping in the flow of the waters, and smeared with the rich 
 mud of his great mine, Peter Brown maintained the cove 
 nant with his Maker. Madly exultant as he was in the 
 midst of his vast riches, yet what were they compared to 
 his peace with God? 
 
 As nothing, absolutely nothing. 
 
 "NIL SINE NUMINE,"
 
 PART TWO 
 
 THE SKY-LINE OF THE VAST
 
 BOOK ONE 
 
 THE GRAVEDIGGER AND THE STAR 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 PETER heard a knock on the door. He opened it, 
 and in stepped the widow Rogan, puffing heavily 
 from her exertions in climbing the steep trail. 
 
 "Why, Mrs. Rogan," he said cordially. 
 
 " Shure, 'tis mesilf, Mr. Brown. I thought I'd be comin' 
 up to see yez, and to say good-bye. An' an' how's the 
 lad?" she said, between breaths, looking in the direction 
 of the bed upon which Standish laid. 
 
 " I believe he's gaining somewhat now, Mrs. Rogan. 
 Have a chair," replied Peter. 
 
 Standish turned in the bed as he heard the sound of 
 her voice, and faintly smiled a greeting to her. It was the 
 first time they had met since he had left for Denver 
 nearly a year ago. Going over to the bed she patted him 
 on the shoulder. 
 
 "Poor lad," she said, "yez have ben havin' a hard time 
 of it, I hear." And as Standish nodded in reply, she con 
 tinued. " The lads have ben tellin' me that yez have 
 sthruck it rich in the mine. God be praised fer it, Mr. 
 Brown." 
 
 Seating herself in the chair which Peter had set out 
 for her, she looked up kindly at the two men, Peter hav 
 ing seated himself on the side of the bed. There was a 
 brief silence for a moment which was broken by the 
 widow. 
 
 "I'm goin' to lave Plume, Mr. Brown," she said. 
 "Yis, a Saturday morning. Me dahter is goin' to live 
 in Dinver now fer good. Mr. Dodge, me new son-in-law, 
 is permoted to a bether job, and they have invited me 
 fer to jine them in the new home. Yis, Mr. Brown," she 
 
 57
 
 58 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 continued, looking up at them pathetically, with a world 
 of sympathy and silent meaning in her voice. " If ye 
 plaze, sir, I'm very sorry fer it all. Indade, I thought me 
 dahter was goin' to marry the lad here ; but these gurruls, 
 sir, how they do switch their moinds. I felt so sorry fer 
 the lad. Him a workin' so hard down there in Dinver. 
 Shure, didn't the brakeman tell me all about it. Yis, this 
 lovin' and cooin' bizness is too much fer the likes of me, 
 Mr. Brown. Indade, I got married mesilf in jist about 
 two minutes one avnin', after waithv fer over ten years 
 fer me good lad. Ah me, oh my, Mr. Rogan was a foine 
 lad, too, Mr. Brown; shure he's bin dead these many 
 years, poor man." And here the widow started to sniffle 
 as the two looked at her sympathetically. 
 
 Wiping her eyes she continued, " En I came fer to 
 say to yez, Mr. Brown, and to you, too, me poor lad," 
 smiling at Standish, "that whinever yez come down to 
 Dinver, be sure to look me up, and yez will have a warrum 
 en dacent wilcome from me own self, to be shure. Ah 
 me, oh my, Mr. Brown, it's always the way. I thought 
 the foine lad here would be me son, but 'tis no use figr- 
 ing on such a thing as love. 'Tis loike two bawlin' cats 
 tinder yer windy, a yillin' so tirrible loike fer one minute, 
 that whin yez go fer yer bucket of water, shure be the 
 toime yez gits back, there they are the decatful creath- 
 ures snuggled up, the one to the other, loike two cooin' 
 doves. Indade, I never could in all me loife, Mr. Brown, 
 tell the difference between two cats a snarlin' and a spit- 
 tin' at each other, an the crazy gurruls as spark about with 
 the lads, a changin' their moinds every few daj T s, an a 
 finally callin' fer the bans with the man you niver 
 thought on. Shure, tis a strange thing, this fit of love 
 bizness, Mr. Brown." 
 
 Standish felt rather embarrassed at the drift of the 
 widow's remarks, but the old lady spoke with such genu 
 ine sympathy and characteristic Hibernian kindliness, 
 that he restrained his protests and only smiled. 
 
 Peter also felt the kindliness of the old lady as she 
 spoke in her quaint Irish way, touched here and there 
 with the old country brogue; and after a long and pleas-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 59 
 
 ant chat, she rose to go, renewing her earnest solicitations, 
 that when they came to Denver, they must be sure to 
 look her up. 
 
 " Shure, Mr. Brown, I'll git to go to church agin. In- 
 dade, 'tis a pleasure to know that, Mr. Brown, after these 
 many months. Here in this wee bit of a town I was all 
 alone with no gude priest to go to. But down in Dinver, 
 Mr. Brown, 'twill be different. Shure, I'll see the gude 
 father once more," she repeated, as Peter gave her a final 
 bow and closed the door. 
 
 She hurried down the trail as fast as her portliness 
 would allow, her dull blue eyes lighting up visibly at the 
 thought of once more worshipping in the old church, 
 which privilege she had long been denied' in priestless and 
 churchless Plume. In her deep retrospection, all the well 
 remembered charms of the old church life came back to 
 her. The "gude" father, the vespers, the visits of the gen 
 tle sisters soliciting funds and clothing for their charities, 
 and oft times too, dropping those delicious bits of their 
 history which only add to their charm and mystery; and 
 then, those long, pleasant chats with the old parishioners 
 on the way back from service, talking over old times on 
 the distant Isle of the Green. 
 
 The Browns looked questioningly at each other after 
 the departure of the widow. They were almost tempted 
 to laugh at her quaint musings, but the kindly talk of the 
 old lady struck a responsive chord in their hearts, and 
 they accepted her words as the honest offerings of a good 
 heart. 
 
 Somehow, for a whole day after her visit, the atmos 
 phere of their cabin seemed chastened with a soft touch 
 of femininity.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 There are two great phenomena upon the world's sur 
 face which have always defied the most subtile and in 
 spired literary efforts of man. 
 
 The OCEAN and the MOUNTAINS. 
 
 They absolutely defy description. 
 
 The Argonaut sails out upon the profound bosom, of 
 the ocean. He looks at its surface. He views and ex 
 periences the long, easy roll of the tide swells, the smooth, 
 glassy expanse of the calm, the fierce, angry billows of the 
 storm. 
 
 He meets many strange craft upon the high seas, all 
 of which are probably registered at Lloyd's or elsewhere 
 among the world's shipping. Occasionally he meets a 
 derelict, a piece of wreckage, or a bit of sea-weed. Then 
 schools of fish, from the half bird-like flying-fish, to the 
 high spouting leviathan; together with many flocks and 
 solitaries of ctrange birds and fowls ; and yet the most of 
 this myriad life, perhaps all flora, fish and fowl, are 
 described and classified in the books of man. 
 
 Then he casts his eye beneath the surface of this mighty 
 flood of waters. In the shallows he sees schools of fishes, 
 their brilliant hued bodies glistening in the rays of the 
 sun like diminutive rainbows. Beneath the shallow waves, 
 he beholds the opaque jelly-fish, the formidable lobster, 
 and hundreds of other wonderful species which inhabit 
 the yellow sands as they gleam and shine beneath the 
 waves of the rolling deep. And yet all these, too, are 
 known to man, and a glance at a volume of natural his 
 tory will suffice to enlighten and classify for him all these 
 wondrous creatures. 
 
 But the DEPTHS. 
 
 The vast, fathomless, silent, yawning caverns of the 
 deep. This gigantic Fount of Aqua, which engulfs the 
 
 61
 
 62 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 keenest vision with its baffling waves, and rolls back the 
 most intrepid diver in the play of its ponderous billows. 
 
 Far out upon the deep blue ocean, gazing down at the 
 unknown miles of salt water rolling and surging beneath 
 the keel of your stout ship. 
 
 No Lloyd's register here, no shallows, no visible yellow 
 sands, no natural history. Naught, save the vast impene 
 trable DEPTHS. 
 
 Therein dwells Mystery, inviolate. 
 
 A supreme and dreadful silence. 
 
 Hushed, until that awful hour, when these salt-vaulted 
 cemeteries of the sea shall vomit forth their dead, and the 
 vast seething fathoms of the Deep shall roll back as a 
 scroll upon the Judgment Day. 
 
 Then only will that abysmal profundity be shattered, to 
 bellow and howl its dreadful ages of pitiless smother to 
 rocking skies. 
 
 Then only will that mighty mystery which now sleeps 
 within the silent bosom of the Deep, awake to mingle its 
 hallelujahs with those of a naked, shredded world. 
 
 And the MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Those deep, secret-keeping brothers of the Ocean. 
 
 These great Rocky Mountains. This roof of America. 
 A chain of great peaks representing some pitiful two or 
 three of the eight thousand diametric miles of Mother 
 Earth, thrust suddenly upward among the clouds. 
 
 A few, insignificant, perpendicular miles of terra-firma. 
 
 A mere fraction of the enormous bulk of the globe. 
 
 A tiny niche cut upon the tallest telegraph pole. 
 
 Only a mountain. Yet how vast. 
 
 A great roof, upon which many leagued forests grow, 
 eagles nest, wild beasts roam, avalanches slide, and swift 
 streams rush down as rain from the eaves. 
 
 It is comparatively easy for one to record the mere 
 height of a mountain, describe its flora, name the species 
 of its animal life, measure the flow of its glaciers, classify 
 its visible rocks, and dilate upon its high peaked gran 
 deur.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 63 
 
 But the DEPTHS. 
 
 Here, as with its foaming brother, the Ocean, the his 
 tory of the Mountain ceases. The poet's lofty imagery 
 fails him. He falls aghast at beetling immensity. He 
 groans in the unspeakable emotion of the greatest song 
 unsung, INFINITUDE. 
 
 Nearly eight thousand mysterious miles under the feet 
 of every man, yet he scarce knows one of them. 
 
 As we stand upon some projecting crag, viewing the 
 silent grandeur of the Brothers in White, we may be 
 standing close upon vast wealth. 
 
 Beneath this tangle of aspen and spruce may be a treas 
 ure cave, a depository of virgin gold. A slender thread 
 of quartz upon yonder inaccessible cliff might lead us, if 
 we dared follow it a few yards, to a vault of shining 
 silver. 
 
 We stand in the bottom of this valley, watching the 
 gushing forth of a boiling hot spring. 
 
 Whence comes it? 
 
 From what Titanic kettle is this steaming flood spewed 
 forth? 
 
 Perhaps if we could fathom its source, we would find it 
 flowing hot from the workshop of Pluto. 
 
 What workman fashioned this specimen of quartz 
 which glitters like the moon on one side and rivals in its 
 way the beam of the golden sun on the other? 
 
 Who? Whence? Where? 
 
 From out the DEPTHS. 
 
 As with the silent depths of the Ocean, one must await 
 the dread summons of Creation's King, to see revealed 
 the smoking depths of these treasure-vaulted hills. 
 
 In the little hamlet, on the farm, or in the teeming city, 
 the poet can sit himself down and describe the minutia 
 of that life, until the catalogue thus rendered registers a 
 perfect record. He reaches out, he examines, he records 
 that life. When he publishes that record, his public rec 
 ognizes it as a perfect mirror of that narrow and limited 
 life. 
 
 But the OCEAN and the MOUNTAINS. 
 
 Fellows and kindred of the unfathomable sources of
 
 64 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 quick-springing Birth and all swallowing Death, their se 
 crets are locked fast within the impenetrable vaults of 
 high imperious Nature. 
 
 A Poem of the Ocean is a Song of the Unexpressible. 
 
 A Song of the Mountains is an Aria of the Unutterable. 
 
 Far up the east slope of the Peak in the early afternoon 
 of a day in June a little cavalcade was slowly ascending. 
 Peter, riding a bay gelding; Standish, leading a small 
 black mare, followed by Shep, a collie pup recently pur 
 chased by Standish. 
 
 After the Browns struck the lode in the tunnel of the 
 40 Rounds, Standish had succumbed to a long spell of 
 fever. Peter had made the best of it, quite comfortably, 
 too, in the knowledge of his new-found riches. 
 
 After many weeks of careful nursing, Standish slowly 
 recovered, but it required months of recuperation before 
 he could again tap the drill with his old-time vigor. 
 
 They had long promised themselves this trip to the 
 summit of the Peak. 
 
 Lordly the noble mountain rose in the West, its snowy 
 helmet crowning the very crest of the Divide. On the 
 east slope it faced the Great Plains of Colorado; and on 
 the west it sloped toward the great Salt Lake of Utah. 
 To the north, its white mantled brothers towered in glo 
 rious glittering succession towards the Wyoming line ; and 
 to the south, it faced the scarlet red-rocked country of 
 the Rio Grande del Norte. 
 
 The Great Peak. 
 
 One of the Snow Kings of the Range. A monarch 
 among many great mountains. Clothed in royal ermine, 
 reclining upon a throne of shining green. 
 
 The Browns expected to reach timber-line by sunset, 
 where they would camp for the night, and from which 
 point they could easily reach the summit the following 
 day. 
 
 Across their path rushed a crystal stream, flowing from 
 under a great bank of snow. The thirsty horses thrust 
 their noses deep into the pure flood, and quaffed long and 
 eagerly. Shep lapped up a few mouthfuls, and leaped
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 65 
 
 about the heels of the two men as they drank from a cup. 
 High in the blue sky above them soared a pair of eagles, 
 searching the crags for conies, the little rabbit of the up 
 per slopes of the Great Hills. 
 
 In the mountains the summers are short, but fair. Ah ! 
 wonderous fair. Eight months of snow, four months of 
 grass. Eight months of white, four months of green. 
 Two-thirds of a year of bleakness, one-third of verdure. 
 This is Nature's yearly chronicle on the Great Divide. 
 
 After the first caresses of the warm June sun, Summer, 
 as if fully assured of the Frost King's retreat, bedecks her 
 self with all the gayety and wild abandon that marks her 
 glorious season. 
 
 The snow retreats far up into the gulches and canons, 
 the grass emerging as it melts, and the flowers thrusting 
 up their delicate petals courageously from among the 
 lichen-covered stones. 
 
 In June, also, the slopes of the mountains fairly glisten 
 in the mad profusion and white spray of the foaming 
 waters which tumble swiftly down upon every side to 
 swell the sources of the sea. The lordly pines and spruces 
 renew their -green with the tender young sprouts of the 
 season. The aspens spring up like armies of green uni 
 formed soldiers. And above all, far, far up, piercing the 
 blue vault of heaven as with mighty, waving plumes, 
 tower those high, serene summits, where winter lives 
 eternal. 
 
 At sunset the Browns reached their goal, a little clump 
 of stunted pines, just below timber-line. 
 
 TIMBER-LINE. 
 
 Eleven thousand feet above the level of the sea. 
 
 Where the larger vegetation ceases; where the life of 
 the green pine ends ; where the rocks rule jointly with the 
 snow. 
 
 They encamped at the base of a huge cliff, tethered the 
 horses and fed them with a generous feed of oats taken 
 from a capacious saddlebag. The camp fire was built of 
 the dry twigs of the dwarf pines, and the bacon was soon 
 sputtering over the fire. 
 
 There are two odors in the mountains which exactly 
 mate frying bacon and pine balsam.
 
 66 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 To suddenly inhale them together is to develop an in 
 different appetite into a ferocious hunger. 
 
 Into the bacon grease, sputtering over the fire, Peter 
 dropped slices of raw potato, while Standish started the 
 chocolate. The potatoes were soon browned and the choc 
 olate boiling. Peter placed the slices of bacon and fried 
 potato upon a tin pan while Standish produced from the 
 saddlebags a loaf of bread and a couple of tin cups for the 
 chocolate. Cutting off slices of bread, dipping them into 
 the grease remaining in the skillet, picking up the slices 
 of bacon and potato with the fingers, and quaffing the 
 chocolate from a tin cup, this is a mountain repast, the 
 prospector's menu. He lives on this kind of fare for 
 months at a time, and actually gets fat on it. Hard, firm, 
 solid fat. But the great secret is, that there is something 
 else which goes with the grub. It's air glorious moun 
 tain ozone. 
 
 After heaping up plenty of fuel on the fire and gather 
 ing more for any emergency which might arise, they ad 
 justed the tether ropes of their steeds, got out their blank 
 ets and went to sleep, Peter making Shep lay next his 
 back. The warmth of the dog would help resist the sharp 
 cold of the mountain night and consequently the rheuma 
 tism. 
 
 At the first peep of day they arose, ate a cold breakfast, 
 saddled the hcrses, and began the three-thousand-foot 
 climb to the summit. 
 
 What a magnificent sunrise ! 
 
 After the first gray tints came the brown, then the pink. 
 A dull red, slowly spreading into a deep purple, climbed 
 up the horizon. Then vivid patches of scarlet appeared, 
 followed by a fierce lurid flame; and at last the June sun, 
 hot, lusty and amorous, glowing across a vast wilderness 
 of plain and cities, mounted the eastern sky, beaming a 
 glorious day. 
 
 As they gradually ascended above timber-line, they be 
 gan to more clearly distinguish the vast panorama which 
 lay at their feet. Down towards the sun they beheld the 
 Great Plains stretching eastward from Denver, the city 
 itself hidden by towering foothills still steaming in the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 67 
 
 dews and mists of the night; with the upper hills, densely 
 covered with conifers, rolling grandly upward in ever 
 ascending billows to the foot of the snowy range. 
 
 Blue patches here and there denoted little lakelets. 
 Huge rock-bound cisterns thus hemmed in by beetling 
 cliffs. From the teats of their plump breasts flowed tiny 
 streams feeding the distant oceans. Indeed, they were 
 the beautiful mothers of the mightiest rivers and water 
 courses of the nation. 
 
 A chain of tiny lakes and pools clustering on the west 
 slope of the Peak feeds the roaring Colorado, which, flow 
 ing thru its Grand Canon deposits its flood into the Gulf 
 of California. The blue waters of several mountain gems 
 nestling far down among the pines upon the east slope 
 of the Peak find their way thru the Platte and the Mis 
 souri into the Mississippi, and on to the Gulf of Mexico. 
 
 Thus these matchless reservoirs of the Great Hills irri 
 gate the arid lands of eastern Colorado and water the 
 thirsty plains of Kansas and Nebraska; and on the south 
 and west swell the Colorado and Rio Grande, to moisten 
 the red deserts of Arizona and New Mexico. 
 
 The hard-breathing horses waded thru the deep snow 
 banks on the north side of the Peak as the dim trail cir 
 cled and zig-zagged in its steep and tortuous ascent. 
 Many years previous the United States government had 
 maintained an observation station on the summit, but it 
 had been abandoned for some time. In doing so the 
 government had opened up a horse-trail clear to the sum 
 mit. It led the little cavalcade up steep ledges, carried 
 them past and over masses of semi-glacial ice, and finally, 
 after a last and laborious climb, they arrived on the sum 
 mit near the ruins of the old government station. 
 
 Both men and beasts were struggling for breath. Shep's 
 tongue was lolling out, both from the effects of the alti 
 tude and his exhaustive scamperings after the saucy and 
 nimble snow-birds. 
 
 From the summit of a mountain the eye observes 
 a striking feature which is not visible from the depths 
 of the valley below. 
 
 As you stand in the valley and gaze upward at the
 
 68 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 peaks, the eye catches only the perpendicular effect. You 
 merely observe the height. 
 
 But as you stand upon the summit, you instantly note 
 the enormous flanks, the monstrous buttresses of the 
 range. The vast bulk. 
 
 You look down upon great mountain meadows, enor 
 mous granite shelves, wide pine-covered flats and innu 
 merable lakelets and pools tucked away in huge rocky 
 pockets which line the broad extended ridges of the 
 range. And this this is the crowning triumphant im 
 pression of these Titans. 
 
 After observing the height of the elephant, you are 
 placed upon its back; and for the first time you observe 
 the vast shoulders, the enormous hips and the tremendous 
 masses of flesh hanging about its neck and back. 
 
 Thus it is with these overwhelming hills. 
 
 Towering, beetling height; enormous width; colossal, 
 distended, gigantic CORPULENCE. 
 
 The summit was a mass of broken boulders, disin 
 tegrated granite, snow and ice. At one time it must have 
 been an enormous towering ledge, but centuries of the 
 alternate dynamic action of frost and sun had shattered 
 it into fragments. This process was still going on. As 
 the sun rose higher and beat down more fiercely, it melted 
 masses of half-frozen snow, which, falling hundreds of 
 feet below over the edge of great cliffs, would start other 
 huge masses of snow and rocky debris, and the Browns 
 could hear the roar of the avalanches as they rushed with 
 frightful velocity a mile or more below them, down the 
 steep sides of the mountain, to plunge at last into the 
 trembling and helpless valley with a fearful crash and 
 roar. 
 
 Peter produced a pair of field glasses from his blouse, 
 and, adjusting them, slowly scanned the glorious pano 
 rama. After a few minutes observation he handed them 
 to Stan dish. 
 
 Plume was plainly visible, tucked snugly away in the 
 deep gulch, and far down towards the east,. appearing like 
 a mere foothill, was the bald summit and green slopes
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 69 
 
 of the Emerald, smoking hotly in the rays of the mount 
 ing sun. 
 
 The horses peered wonderingly about them. At all the 
 stopping places below timber-line they had been able to 
 nibble tufts of grass and the green tops of berry bushes; 
 but in the steep climb from timber-line to the summit, 
 the only comfort they could extract with their desiring 
 tongues was to lick a piece of ice, or thrust their muzzles 
 into a snow-bank to quench their thirst. Shep, who had 
 recovered his breath somewhat, had gained a perch upon 
 a huge boulder. Peering into the fearful depths below, 
 he would bark at the two men from time to time, as if 
 he must give some expression at the spectacle of the won 
 drous view. 
 
 The sun was just past the meridian when they swept 
 the view with the glasses. Unseating themselves from 
 their saddles, they sat upon the doprsill of the old gov 
 ernment station house and basked in the sunshine. As 
 the wind blew up warm and gusty from Utah, Peter ob 
 served a gorgeous-winged creature floating in the air 
 nearby. Presently it alighted upon his coat sleeve. It 
 was a huge bumble-bee. Crawling over the sleeve for a 
 moment, vainly searching for something to fill its paunch, 
 the beauteous yellow and gold thing^ jauntily spread its 
 tiny wings and shot over the summit into the yawning 
 maw of the valley far below. 
 
 Ah I Wondrous Nature. 
 
 An insect flying over a mountain top. Happy, heed 
 less of the cloud monarch's terrible brow, and perfectly at 
 home upon the breast of the soft summer breeze. 
 
 Several 'butterflies came up with the same fresh breeze, 
 the airy creatures fluttering out into the fearful maw of 
 the valley, dancing upon the breast of the breeze, appar 
 ently unconscious of the frightful leap from the high 
 summit to the yawning depths below. 
 
 The two men followed the airy flight of the delicate 
 creatures with tender solicitous gaze. Then they looked 
 into each other's eyes. A tear trickled down the bronzed 
 cheek of old Peter, this hero of stern war. Standish's 
 countenance was stoical, but, nevertheless, a song rever 
 berated in his soul.
 
 70 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Peter spoke, "Father, we rest within Thy holy keep 
 ing." 
 
 After drinking to the full the inspiration of the glo 
 rious view, they remounted their horses and began to de 
 scend the trail. The sun was fast declining, and the trail 
 was much more perilous to descend than to climb, owing 
 to the soft slush and rotten ice which the fierce play of 
 the sun had produced. 
 
 Most of the way they were forced to walk, leading their 
 patient animals. At dark they reached their former 
 camping place at timber-line, fed their steeds and ate 
 their supper. 
 
 Standish made a glorious fire, heaping it high with 
 fragrant pine boughs. The night was keenly frosty, the 
 stars shone brightly, and the vast slopes of the Peak tow 
 ering far above them, echoed the weird songs of the fall 
 ing waters and rushing streams. 
 
 Peter drew up a log to brace his old rheumatic back, 
 threw a blanket over his shoulders like an Indian, and 
 blew great clouds of tobacco smoke toward the firelight. 
 Shep thrust his nose between his brown paws and blinked 
 dreamily at the fire. Standish, who did not smoke, was 
 almost tempted to that night, as he viewed the serene 
 pleasure and lusty smoke-blowing of his father. Thus 
 they sat looking long and silently into the fire. 
 
 Peter was attending a play in the greatest theatre in the 
 world. It was in his soul. A theatre which is in the soul 
 of every human being; perhaps of every living thing 
 within their limits. 
 
 He first saw great heaps of treasure, of silver and gold. 
 This treasure then turned into clouds of bank notes. He 
 saw himself rich, influential, a power among men. He 
 next saw his old home, just as it was in the days of his 
 youth ; then he saw his father and mother. 
 
 They stood there just as plainly upon the magic stage 
 of this wonderful theatre, as when he saw them last in real 
 flesh and blood. He spoke to them, and they answered. 
 Then he saw his beautiful, tender wife, Mary. In a flash, 
 he beheld again all the love scenes of their wooing; the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 71 
 
 old trysting place, the wedding, their joy at the birth of 
 Standish. He could even reach out and touch the little 
 red-faced fellow, as when he first came with his tiny cry, 
 sputtering and protesting into the great world. 
 
 Then came the scene of the gentle Mary's funeral. 
 Hasten, playwright, the sad scene affects the old man. 
 
 And now again, his wealth. 
 
 He saw himself going to Denver, buying tools, supplies, 
 account books. He beheld the mine giving up its vast 
 hoard. He saw railroads and trams built, and in opera 
 tion. He saw a fine house in Plume. Here he gave a gift 
 to a friend. He saw his name mentioned in the news 
 papers as Peter Brown, the Bonanza King. 
 
 And in the matchless beauty of these swift-moving 
 scenes, his eyes drooped, the lids closed, the pipe fell from 
 his lips, and the old man slept, seeing in his dreams still 
 fairer scenes in the sublime theatre of his soul. 
 
 Standish saw the pipe fall, and heard his father's first 
 deep snore. Presently, too, he heard Shep faintly yelping 
 in his sleep, and saw his body shaking slightly. Shep 
 was undoubtedly being held spellbound in his little dog 
 gie soul theatre, chasing rabbits and snow-birds in his 
 sleep. 
 
 Standish was trying to forget. Thru all his long sick 
 ness he had tried to forget Mollie, but in vain. Then he 
 had hoped that in the change and inspiration of this 
 mountain climb he could forget. 
 
 He kept looking into the fire, and soon his eyes drooped 
 also. A band of dream players came trooping into the 
 theatre of his soul and the play was on. This was his 
 dream. 
 
 He saw Mollie. Always Mollie, haunting him forever. 
 Pale and beautiful she came to him. He tried to force 
 her away. He even threatened her, but still she advanced. 
 She embraced him. He did not remember the cause, but 
 when he looked again at her, she lay upon the ground as 
 one dead. A spade was suddenly thrust into his hand. 
 He drove it into the soft earth and quickly dug a grave. 
 Everything was now so distinct to him. 
 
 First, the layer of bright green sod, then the soft 'brown
 
 72 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 earth, which he tossed up on each side of him. Finish 
 ing the grave, he lifted Mollie in his arms and carried her 
 to the edge. Then placing her within it, he gathered an 
 armful of flowers and ferns. How beautiful they seemed 
 to him, how fragrant. He covered her with them. They 
 seemed to caress the sweet lips and press caressingly her 
 beautiful form. He stood over the grave with the spade 
 in his hands, ready to throw down upon her the heavy 
 turf; and he felt himself shuddering at the thought of 
 covering her with the cold earth. But she was lost to 
 him. She was dead. The clods fell. Only a mound re 
 mained. He started away a few steps, and then he thought 
 he heard a laugh. He looked around, and upon the 
 mound lay Mollie, just as natural as when he placed her 
 in the grave. 
 
 Surely she was dead to him. 'Had not his thought 
 decreed it? Therefore she must be buried. Quite vexed, 
 he dug another grave and buried her as before. He 
 started to depart again, and again he heard the laugh ; and 
 looking around as before, he again saw her form on top 
 of the newly-made grave. 
 
 How provoking. How many times he buried her thus 
 in the dream he never could remember. The last time, 
 however, he not only dug the grave, but he toiled and 
 toiled to roll upon it a monstrous stone. Surely such a 
 weight would hold her secure. Again he walked away. 
 He turned quickly as he heard the provoking laugh. The 
 great stone had been rolled away, and the prostrate form 
 of his old love laid beside it. 
 
 Returning, he broke into tears beside his promised 
 bride. He had buried her. Why did she not remain in 
 her grave which he had prepared so tenderly? 
 
 Then the laugh sounded close beside him, and, turning 
 quickly, he beheld an old, old man. In this old man's 
 hands was an hour-glass and a scythe. His beard of snowy 
 white reached far out into the dim forest glades, and was 
 lost to view in the distance. Standish did not know it at 
 the time, but that beard was a thousand leagues long. It 
 had grown and remained uncut, from the very first mo 
 ment of the year One. Its owner was Father Time.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 73 
 
 " Here is a wise man, undoubtedly," thought Standish. 
 " A veritable hoary Ulysses." And, appealing to him, he 
 said, "See, kind sir, this is my old love. I have tried to 
 bury her, but the grave will not hold her." 
 
 The old man spoke, looking at him queerly with his 
 merry, twinkling eyes. 
 
 " Frail youth, do you not know that this, your old love, 
 is still a living thing. It appears dead, but 'tis not so. It 
 is a thing immortal. The grave will not hold an old love. 
 The memory of an old love is a star, which, once rising, 
 will shine forever within the firmament of the soul. Kiss 
 her good-bye, then I will show you." 
 
 Standish knelt down by the side of the beautiful form. 
 He kissed the sweet face tenderly, and wiped the tears 
 from his eyes. Then the old man laid aside his hour-glass 
 and scythe, and, waving his hands over the prostrate 
 form, he repeated this verse: 
 
 " One, two three. 
 You are free. 
 Mortal, see!" 
 
 Standish looked eagerly thru his tears. The prostrate 
 form of his old love had suddenly been changed into a 
 beautiful star. It rose, and soared slowly above the forest, 
 and far up into the blue sky. It was to remain thus fixed 
 in the firmament of his soul forever, to beam down upon 
 him its tender, twinkling memories. 
 
 Gathering up his hour-glass and scythe, Father Time 
 tapped him on the shoulder, saying: 
 
 " Ah ! My lad, you cannot bury that which is a star. 
 See, it will shine in your soul forever, a bright and sacred 
 memory. Time heals all wounds, my boy, adieu 1" And 
 laughing merrily at his own witticism, the old man disap 
 peared. 
 
 Standish awoke with a start. An ember from the fire 
 had popped into his hand. He shook it off, and looked 
 across the fire at his father and Shep. They were still 
 fast asleep. He rose and stretched himself, and stepped 
 away from the fire into the night. He looked up at the 
 stars, and repeated the words of Father Time, "You 
 cannot bury that which is a star." Then a great light
 
 74 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 flooded his soul. His love for Mollie had risen as a bright 
 star of memory, and left his heart free. 
 
 Returning to the fire, he replenished it, and woke his 
 father, fearing he would take cold. Shep had risen by 
 this time, and after lazily stretching himself, he sud 
 denly began to growl. The two men looked in the direc 
 tion that his nose was pointing, immediately distinguishing 
 among the bushes a few yards away a pair of eyes shining 
 like emeralds as they reflected the light of. the fire. Shep's 
 hair was standing out fiercely by this time, but, pup like, 
 he dared not encounter the intruder. Standish hastily 
 picked up a burning brand and threw it at the gleaming 
 eyes, whereupon they disappeared. It was probably either 
 a wolf or a cougar. 
 
 The two men then went over to the horses, and found 
 them resting quietly; and gathering a fresh lot of wood, 
 they replenished the fire for the night and got into their 
 blankets. Shep managed to get in between them, and, 
 snuggling close, would raise his head -suspiciously from 
 time to time on the lookout for further intruders. 
 
 After a long refreshing sleep, the morning broke fair 
 and beautiful, and they began the return home. Standish 
 soon began to sing blithely, and, scorning the back of his 
 little black mare, he ran down the trail as nimbly as a 
 deer. Peter, from the back of his easy bay mount, greatly 
 rejoiced at the spectacle, and exclaimed to himself: 
 
 "Good, the boy's himself again."
 
 BOOK TWO 
 
 THE CHAMBER OF VIRGINS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 UPON their return from the Peak, the Browns 'began 
 the development of their great mine. Upon careful 
 investigation, they found that they had broken 
 into a great ore chamber, extending some twenty-eight 
 feet from wall to wall. The shaft and upper workings 
 of the 40 Rounds were fully fifteen hundred feet above 
 the tunnel, upon the top of the ledge. Thus this enor 
 mous body of ore extended hundreds, perhaps thousands, 
 of feet below the floor of the tunnel, as well as upward to 
 the old shaft house fifteen hundred feet above. 
 
 They were fairly overwhelmed with the possibilities of 
 this colossal wealth. Considerable water was still flowing 
 from the vein, and Standish made a trip up to the old 
 shaft, finding it comparatively dry, thus not only proving 
 the splendid drainage value of their tunnel, but proving 
 beyond the slightest doubt the continuity of the vein. 
 
 A mining man from Denver visited them, attracted by 
 news of the big strike. He flashed a certified check of a 
 cool $100,000 in Peter's eyes, and wanted to buy at that 
 figure. Peter only looked at Standish and smiled, and the 
 fellow went away quite discomfited. 
 
 Nearly every citizen of Plume, and, for that matter, 
 almost the entire population of the gulch, visited the tun 
 nel, and begged to see the big strike. They nearly ex 
 hausted their ready funds, which Standish had earned in 
 Denver, part of it the ring money, by a constant enter 
 tainment of friends and honest miners, who wished them 
 luck with their great find. The excitement soon died 
 away, however, and their visitors becoming fewer, they 
 
 75
 
 76 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 gladly availed themselves of the opportunity to perfect 
 their future plans. 
 
 A representative of the C. C. & U. Ry. visited them 
 shortly after their return from the Peak. They showed 
 him the extent of the ore body, and requested that he put 
 in a siding. He promised to take immediate action, and 
 in a few days both men and material arrived from Denver, 
 and the siding was put in. 
 
 A contract was also made for considerable lumber and 
 timbering, to be used in building an ore chute from the 
 mouth of the tunnel down to the railroad siding. Thus 
 the ore would slide down the chute and into the railroad 
 cars by its own gravity. A large crib was also built below 
 the mouth of the tunnel, and out of the way of the rail 
 road siding. It formed the base of a new dump, over 
 which the waste matter, the talc, rock, etc., would be 
 dropped. Quantities of timbers would also be used in the 
 mine, in stoping, which process consists of building 
 a platform or scaffolding upward every few feet and 
 stopping the walls of vein matter, allowing it to fall to 
 the bottom of the stope, thru an iron or wooden chute. 
 The ore would then be separated from the waste matter, 
 and hauled in cars thru the tunnel, and dumped outside 
 into the ore chute, wiiere it would slide into the railroad 
 cars ready for shipment. The waste matter being run out 
 in separate cars, and dumped into the gulch, down to the 
 huge wooden crib which served as an anchorage. 
 
 Thraout the entire length of the tunnel no timber^ were 
 used, as it was bored thru solid granite, and would prob 
 ably stand intact, perhaps as long as the mountain itself. 
 
 Peter's idea of working the great lode thru a tunnel 
 was splendidly vindicated. No machinery was needed at 
 this time to operate the workings, save a common blower 
 to furnish fresh air. The water flowed thru and out of 
 the tunnel seeking its level. The ore and waste matter 
 dropped from the stopes directly into the cars, and were 
 then handled in the economical manner as above de 
 scribed. 
 
 Soon the smelter returns began to come in from their 
 first shipments, and Peter and Standish gazed at the gener-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE" 77 
 
 ous sized checks delightedly. It was the first, real, tangible 
 evidence of their fortune. They offered them in payment 
 for the timber, and for a few supplies purchased of Howard 
 & Co. They were eagerly accepted, and thus the last 
 bit of doubt which might have existed in their minds was 
 swept away. They possessed a fortune of as clean, pure, 
 and honestly acquired wealth as was ever won by two 
 determined men. 
 
 Long years afterward, however, when Standish in 
 more mature age, enjoyed the use of this almost unlimited 
 wealth, he felt the effects of those fearful years of toil in 
 the long gray tunnel of the 40 Rounds; and he then 
 thought the reward, however great, was none too much 
 for those mighty efforts of his youth. 
 
 Simultaneous with their full realization of the magni 
 tude of the property, Standish began to study. He sent 
 to Denver for the books he required, determined that he 
 would master every bit of information which threw light 
 upon the subjects of assaying, mining, and metallurgy. 
 
 He was particularly anxious to master assaying, for with 
 a complete education in that science, he would at all times 
 be able to determine the value of the ore they were pro 
 ducing, and thus be in a position to insist upon a fair 
 settlement from the smelters. 
 
 Peter employed only a few men at first. He wanted to 
 feel of the proposition very carefully, and he only added 
 to his force as occasion required. One thing, however, he 
 had determined upon emphatically; he intended to pay 
 the best wages of any operator in the district. Whenever 
 he heard of a raise of wages at the other mines, he in 
 vestigated the report carefully, and if it proved correct, 
 up went his wage scale accordingly, and with always 
 enough more to prove his proud assertion, that he paid 
 the best wages in the camp. 
 
 It did not take him long to notice the effect of this 
 policy among his men. They proved diligent and loyal, 
 and he congratulated himself that he obtained the full 
 benefit of every raise as well as they. 
 
 Peter did not forget to make the old cabin more com 
 fortable. It was enlarged considerably, and made stouter
 
 78 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and warmer. He and Standish had always liked the loca 
 tion with its unobstructed view up and down the gulch. 
 It was somewhat exposed to the sweep of snow and rock 
 slides, but he felt that it was amply protected by the thick 
 forest of tall pines and spruces above it. 
 
 Peter confined his own labors to a daily inspection of 
 the mine, and he would not allow Standish to spend too 
 much time in the workings. The damp air, and the chill 
 and wetness of the mine, were sure to impair the health 
 of the strongest physique in course of time; and he felt 
 that his brave boy who had already served full time in 
 the grim hole, should study now, and roam about the hills 
 as much as he pleased. 
 
 Colonel Rose came up from Denver a few months after 
 they commenced operations. Being Peter's financial 
 agent in Denver, he had observed the rapidly piling up 
 returns from the property, and he suddenly awoke to the 
 fact that his old comrade was really getting rich. 
 
 Peter took great delight in showing the property to the 
 Colonel who was greatly impressed with- its wonderful 
 riches, and before he left, Peter closed a contract with him, 
 whereby the Colonel was given full power as his financial 
 representative in the city. The contract was to run a year, 
 and was largely an experiment. Peter realized that he had 
 his hands full in the mere management of the property, 
 and altho requiring Standish's assistance somewhat in the 
 management, yet he felt that his son should continue his 
 studies uninterrupted. The Colonel would be in an excel 
 lent position to invest their earnings, and long association 
 had proved him to be a man who could be trusted im 
 plicitly.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The day the Browns broke thru the granite wall into 
 the long sought for lode of the 40 Rounds, they penetrated 
 a chamber, wherein slept two beautiful virgins. 
 
 Virgin SILVER. Virgin GOLD. 
 
 Sealed up in the enchanted castle of the mountain by 
 their father, imperious Plutus, the god of Riches; these 
 two beautiful virgins had slept countless ages, waiting for 
 a brave prince to dissolve the spell, and set them free. 
 
 Bravely he had come. Courageously he had toiled to 
 ward them in the bowels of the mountain, and at last he 
 had rent their prison walls in twain. And they waited 
 there in the darkness of their chamber, these two fair 
 creatures, for him to lead them out into the beautiful 
 world. But it really was not a prince who freed them thus, 
 it was that great blind giant, LABOR. 
 
 The strong arm, striking the mighty blow. The blind 
 giant who 'wipes the sweat from off his brow, and feeds 
 upon the poor husks which his master chooses to give him. 
 
 Labor groped his way into the great chamber where the 
 two virgins were timidly calling to him. He heard their 
 cries and released them, leading them from their dark 
 noisome prison, out into that beautiful bright world which 
 he himself could not see. 
 
 Delighted with the fair prospect, they turned to thank 
 their benefactor. 
 
 But Gold started at the sight of Labor, whose huge, 
 steaming, sweating form was so different from the fair 
 prince of her dreams. Ugh! His great hairy breast, 
 freckled, coarse, powder-smutted features, and blind, sight 
 less eyes. She looked at him in disgust, spat in his face ; 
 and left him unthanked, unrewarded. 
 
 Gold is a w r anton. 
 
 Once released into the gay world, she follows the 
 pleasure path of the courtesan. She tries, not by sweet art, 
 
 79
 
 80 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 to win the prize of beauty among the fair children of 
 Plutus. That which she can not win by her grace and 
 beauty, she seduces by exposing her voluptuous charms to 
 kindle the flame of lust. Cruel, cunning, unholy as a 
 vampire she treads the world, casting off her old lovers 
 indifferently, and languishing shamelessly in the arms of 
 the new. 
 
 Gold, the insidious seducer of classic Greece. 
 
 Gold, the bold courtesan of mighty Rome. 
 
 Gold, the base betrayer of fair Florence. 
 
 All of which, at one time, were clean, pure republics. 
 Solon, replaced by Phillip of Macedonia. Cincinnatus, by 
 Nero. Dante, by the Medicis. 
 
 Insidious, corrupting, baleful, Gold. 
 
 Thou, base, lecherous vampire of fair republics. Art 
 thou to suck the life blood and honor from our own great 
 republic? These United States of America? 
 
 Within our borders millionaires have succeeded the 
 possessors of mere thousands. Billionaires are about to 
 succeed millionaires. 
 
 At what time will your remorseless jaws close with satia 
 tion, oh, Gold? 
 
 When will the republic cease, the Caesars reign? 
 
 In the words of the prophet, " How long, oh, Lord, how 
 long?" 
 
 And so Gold, the wanton one, exulting in her freedom, 
 flitted away into the world to satisfy her unholy desires, 
 and wreak upon her victims the venom of her hatred. 
 
 Silver, however, looked pityingly tearful into the sight 
 less eyes of Labor. She was filled with unutterable thanks 
 for her freedom, and kneeling down, she reverently kissed 
 his great hardened hand, sweetly saying as she did so, 
 "Consider me always your friend, my hero." 
 
 The great giant trembled, his sightless eyes rolled pain 
 fully in their red sockets as he felt the press of her warm 
 lips upon his hand. He struggled to articulate some word 
 in response. He knew it was the Lady of the Silver Robes, 
 for he had heard her voice sounding from the depths of 
 the enchanted chamber as clear as a gently tinkling bell,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 81 
 
 saying, "Ah ! kind sir. I am Silver, release me, and I will 
 fill the world with peace and plenty." 
 
 Gold's voice was so different, it had an insidious serpen 
 tine smoothness, which terrified as it also charmed. 
 
 The inspiring words of Silver thrilled the giant form 
 of Labor. His despairing soul was filled with the great 
 hope, that this fair virgin whom he had thus released from 
 the dark chamber of the mountain, would fill the world 
 with a bounteous flood of plenty, and his children would 
 be made forever free and happy. 
 
 She would feed the starving; she would keep the great 
 mills turning; she would sow the barren naked fields of 
 the whole world with life-giving grain, whose rich harvests 
 would yield great joy and sustenance to all mankind. 
 Labor felt that he was in the presence of a great emancipa 
 tor. She who would carry the magic horn of Plenty, and 
 would fill to overflowing e'en the humblest dwelling of the 
 poor. And that men would rise up and sing glad anthems 
 in her name. 
 
 Filled with this great joy, he at last found speech. 
 
 "Believe me, fair one, I accept your friendship, thus so 
 sweetly bestowed. And with these strong arms I shall ever 
 defend and champion your cause." And as he spoke, his 
 great chest heaved with emotion, and the muscles of his 
 mighty arms swelled in enormous knots. 
 
 "I leave you then, my hero, to see the world; and if 
 if my mission is misunderstood, and I meet with misfor 
 tune, I shall certainly return and seek your protection, 
 and bide my time for the ultimate triumph of my cause." 
 And flitting away, she too sought the confines of the great 
 world, while Labor returned to his hole in the mountain, 
 and once more toiled beneath the lash of the master. 
 
 Far and wide the two fair daughters of Plutus traveled 
 out into the teeming world. Until, upon the shores of the 
 great blue ocean they met a Potentate. It was POWER, 
 lord of a mighty Nation. 
 
 Seeing his great palace and vast wealth, Gold made love 
 to him. 
 
 Silver passed them one day as they strolled along the 
 beach. Power cast a lustful eye upon her tender form,
 
 82 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and Gold, perceiving it, became jealous. She could brook 
 no rival in the affections of Power even tho that rival be 
 her own fair, innocent sister, Silver. She, who came from 
 the same vault of the mountain, where they had both lain 
 side by side thru all the remote ages. Yea, both conceived 
 in the womb of the same mother and sired by the same 
 father. Silver and Gold, the twin sisters, the fair offspring 
 of the same illustrious parents. 
 
 So terrible now became the jealousy of Gold, that she 
 deemed the broad expanse of the Nation itself, too small, 
 to hold her fair sister. 
 
 And one fatal night, in that Palace by the Sea, Gold 
 seduced Power, he who was the sovereign of a mighty 
 nation; and even then, not satisfied with her shameless 
 conquest, she poisoned his heart against her fair sister. 
 And together, the guilty pair persecuted Silver, and drove 
 her from the distant East seeking shelter in the bosom of 
 the Great Hills of the West. 
 
 One day, as Labor emerged from the black hole of Toil, 
 to bask a moment in the sun, rolling up his sightless eyes 
 to the throne of his Maker imploring rest and peace, he 
 felt a soft hand thrust confidingly into his, and a gentle 
 voice spoke to him, which he instantly recognized as that 
 of the Lady of the Silver Robes. 
 
 "Ah, kind sir," she said, with tears in her eyes, "I have 
 been driven from the Court of the Nation by Power and 
 Gold, and I am forced to seek that protection which you 
 once so nobly pledged me in that long ago." 
 
 "And you shall have it, fair one," roared the blind and 
 indignant giant in thunderous tones, which shook the very 
 vitals of the Nation, and which made Power and Gold 
 fairly tremble in that Palace by the Sea. 
 
 And that is why, gentle reader, that the Lady of the 
 Silver Robes liveth in the sheltering bosom of Labor, the 
 great blind giant of the Nation. That is why the people 
 of the Great Hills love and cherish the Silver Queen. That 
 is also why she rests, "until death do us part," in the warm, 
 red blooded heart of the shining West, never to be removed 
 save to be crowned mid the proud acclaim of the Nation, 
 Queen of Peace and Plenty.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 83 
 
 Mistress Gold still sways the Potentate of Power in the 
 far East, in that Palace by the Sea. But fair Silver, dwel 
 ling in tiie humble cot of Labor, waits patiently for the 
 day of her coming glory. When the great teeming Nation 
 shall burst the shackles of unholy Power and Gold, and 
 crown the Silver Queen. 
 
 Gold to the Select. 
 
 Silver to the Common. 
 
 Nectar for the Caesars. 
 
 Bread for the Masses. 
 
 " Blessed are the poor in spirit, for theirs is the King 
 dom of Heaven,"
 
 BOOK THREE 
 
 THE CROSS AMONG THE PINES 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 DURING the five years which followed the great 
 strike in the tunnel of the 40 Rounds, Peter 
 Brown's dream of wealth had been fully realized, 
 but in the enjoyment of that wealth he had found himself 
 in a similar condition as a brakeman who was employed 
 on the railroad which ran thru his old home town, back in 
 Iowa. 
 
 It seems that a number of railroad men gathered in a 
 little grocery store at the division point, were earnestly 
 discussing what they would do if they should suddenly 
 become possessed of great wealth. Each had related in 
 glowing terms how he would spend the money, all of 
 them more or less extravagantly. When it came the brake- 
 man's turn, however, to air his views as a spender, his 
 eyes fairly glittered with excitement, and the crowd 
 pressed forward eagerly to catch his words, as he related 
 the wonderful manner in which he would spend his imagi 
 native wealth. Looking longingly across the counter of 
 the grocery store at the contents of a shelf, he said yearn 
 ingly, "By gosh, boys, I'd have all the cove oysters that 
 I wanted to eat, for once in my life." 
 
 So it was with Peter. Having formed habits of the 
 greatest simplicity thru all the long years of his poverty, 
 it was absolutely impossible for him to spend an income 
 much beyond that of the ordinary wage earner. He con 
 sidered himself too old to build railroads, or engage in 
 those several other enterprises which in his youth had 
 greatly attracted him, and he could not see why he should 
 take the time and money to build an elaborate residence 
 
 85
 
 86 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 in Plume. The truth was, that he did not propose to 
 be coaxed away from the mine. It was his life, his very 
 existence. Altho his bright mind reveled in the great 
 world of thought, and while he was truly a philosopher, a 
 great reader, and an eager investigator of all the phenom 
 ena of life; yet he chose to dwell largely within himself, 
 and in the management of the mine he found an abun 
 dant field for both physical and mental activity. 
 
 Down in Denver a large hoard was piling up. On the 
 first of each year Peter visited Colonel Rose, and examined 
 and adjusted the past year's finances. He required the 
 Colonel to give him a receipt in full for all services ren 
 dered, and they started each year with a clean balance 
 sheet. Investments he had left almost entirely to the 
 Colonel's judgment and discretion. 
 
 At their last settlement the Colonel had handed him a 
 large bundle of bonds, stocks, deeds, mortgages, etc., for 
 his examination. Peter had dubiously turned the bundle 
 over in his hands for a moment, and handing it back had 
 said, "Sorry I can't accommodate you, Colonel, but I 
 don't want to be bothered with all this. I have your 
 word that the stuff is good, so let it go at that." 
 
 The Colonel had maintained the strictest care in render 
 ing his annual report, and Peter had at all times an ac 
 curate record of his various investments; their original 
 cost, present value, etc., together with a memorandum of 
 all cash balances due and deposited with the various banks. 
 
 The last time that he had taken the train back to Plume 
 after his annual settlement with the Colonel, he leaned 
 back in the coach seat and said to himself, " All all for 
 the boy. Mebbe in the distant future he will conceive 
 some great work to do. If he does, well, he's got the 
 money." Musing thus, the old veteran had added, " And 
 the beauty of it is, that he's really made the most of it 
 himself, for I wan't of much account." 
 
 In the sixth year of the development of the 40 Rounds 
 since the great strike in the tunnel, Peter was confronted 
 by many important questions in the further development 
 of the property. 
 
 For several years the management had been compara-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 87 
 
 lively simple. It had only been a question of extracting the 
 ore, dumping it into the railroad cars, and shipping it 
 to the smelters in Denver. Merely extracting the meat 
 from one cell of a colossal nut. But now they had nearly 
 exhausted the contents of that cell. They must reach out 
 and discover new cells, and extract the meat as before. 
 This process of discovering, reaching out, and exploiting 
 for new ore bodies, is called development work; and in 
 every well managed property is constantly going on, and 
 altho absorbing considerable of the mine's earnings, never 
 theless usually brings a splendid return for the outlay. 
 
 A few weeks after his last annual settlement trip to 
 the city, Peter entered the mouth of the tunnel intending 
 to visit some of the old abandoned workings, to see if 
 they were really exhausted as had been reported by the 
 foreman. 
 
 Occasionally a vein contracts, or "pinches out" as the 
 miners say, from its usual width; and narrowing to a 
 mere few inches, sometimes becomes completely exhausted. 
 
 Several days previous, Peter had instructed the mine 
 foreman to explode a blast at a certain point in one of 
 the abandoned levels where the vein had thus suddenly 
 pinched out. The foreman having exploded the blast 
 as directed, Peter intended upon this trip of inspection 
 to note the result. 
 
 Lighting a candle and stuffing several in his pocket, he 
 walked the length of the tunnel, and at the end he turned 
 abruptly to the right, into a big "drift," a passage along 
 the vein from which the ore has been extracted. Follow 
 ing this drift for some distance he arrived at a ladder 
 which led to the upper levels of that portion of the mine. 
 
 As he laboriously climbed the long ladder all wet and 
 slimy from the constant seepage of the water and the 
 ooze of the soft vein matter, he vowed that he would im 
 mediately equip the mine with a steam hoist to reach from 
 the tunnel to the old abandoned shaft above. It was 
 indeed, becoming a positive necessity. It would greatly 
 increase the ventilation of the property, be a great con 
 venience to his force of men, and would bring a sure 
 return for the outlay by greatly increasing the production
 
 88 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of the property. The long hours, and the consequent 
 exhaustion, which the men took in ascending and descend 
 ing the long ladders to and from their work would be 
 applied to mining instead, and it would he far more 
 economical to equip the mine with a modern hoist and 
 employ a competent engineer, than to throw away any 
 more money on this old fashioned ladder proposition. 
 
 Peter soon reached the second level, and resting, lighted 
 his pipe. He wished that he had brought Standish with 
 him, but he had left him at the cottage absorbed in a 
 book and he had hated to disturb him. After heavy 
 exertions he finally reached the seventh level, thus he 
 had climbed six hundred feet up the rickety wet ladders, 
 a hundred feet at a time, and he stood there puffing 
 loudly from his exertions. Yes, he would wire Denver 
 tomorrow for that hoist. How ridiculous to tire an old 
 man like this, who merely wants to inspect a portion of 
 his mine. Recovering both his humor and breath 
 however, he walked to the far end of the drift toward 
 the point where the blast had been exploded. The bot 
 tom of the drift was covered with several inches of water 
 and mud, and it was with much difficulty that he could 
 plow his way thru the sticky mass. 
 
 Again he thought, "I wish I had sent the boy, he could 
 have done this nasty job much better than I." 
 
 How rarely do men recognize old age, when it really 
 begins to lay its heavy hand upon them. The keen 
 thought of youth still sparkles in their souls, with scarcely 
 the least comprehension that the poor old body is begin 
 ning to fail. The stiffened joints, the nerveless fingers, 
 the weary back, fail most signally to continue their for 
 mer agility. Yet a man rarely acknowledges it. His 
 bouyant thought seems surprised as the infirm body fails 
 to perform its usual functions. And in such a plight, 
 and finally acknowledging the great change, the old man 
 smiles a weak pathetic smile, sighs heavily, saying to 
 himself with a dubious shake of his head, "You're getting 
 old, my boy." How tenaciously youth still clings. "My 
 boy," uttered by an old man speaking of himself. And 
 again, agile protesting thought rushes him forward, and
 
 89 
 
 again he weakens and falls. And thus old age cruelly 
 settles down upon him, until often thought itself becomes 
 infirm. Soon his atmosphere becomes wholly frigid. 
 He finally ceases to think youthfully altogether. The 
 snow land of the long weary years slowly fills his soul. 
 Hoary, white haired old age, ne is only waiting to die. 
 The vital forces gradually become clogged, and exit, 
 the old man's life has fled. 
 
 Now Peter was beginning to feel his infirmities sorely. 
 He regretted that he had undertaken this fatiguing trip. 
 But on he went, and having once resolved upon a hoist, 
 he now vowed that this would be his last trip into this 
 great slimy intestine of the mountain. Was it a 
 prophecy ? 
 
 "Yes," he thought, "the office was the place for him 
 now. The bright sunlight, the warm fire, his big chair, 
 and his dear old violin. What a fool he was to come 
 up here. Standish would reprove him when he found 
 it out. Then he thought of the six hundred feet that 
 he would have to crawl down again to reach the tunnel. 
 He hesitated. He would turn back. But no, he was 
 nearly there. He would see the deal thru, now that he 
 had undertaken it. 
 
 His candle was burning low by this time. He took 
 another from his pocket and lit it. A few feet ahead of 
 him he could distinguish a heap of debris which partially 
 choked the drift. It was undoubtedly the result of the 
 blast. He could also distinguish the pick which he had 
 instructed the foreman to leave, as he would probably 
 have to pick around a bit in the course of his examination. 
 
 The vein at the point where the blast had been exploded, 
 had suddenly contracted to the width of a couple of 
 fingers, and the men had ceased work, thinking that it 
 would not pay to blast out several feet of solid granite to 
 obtain a mere inch of ore. 
 
 Peter had conceived the idea, however, that the vein 
 might widen with another shot or two, and reveal a new 
 ore body. 
 
 After carefully inspecting the debris dropped by the 
 blast, he thrust the candle into a chink of the wall.
 
 90 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 " By jinks!" he exclaimed suddenly, his eyes gleaming 
 with all the ardor of a veteran miner, "I believe its 
 widening." 
 
 Carried away by his excitement, he seized the pick and 
 crawled over the pile of fallen debris, thrusting himself 
 into the little pocket which lay between the breast of 
 the drift and the pile of material brought down by the 
 blast. 
 
 " Good ore, too," he muttered, picking up a piece of 
 glittering quartz. Curling up in his narrow quarters, 
 he dropped some hot wax from the candle upon a piece 
 of fallen granite lying on top of the pile of debris and 
 stuck the candle into it. Then with his back to the breast 
 of the drift and his face turned toward the candle, he 
 grasped the pick and began to pry off a tempting piece 
 of ore which hung from the roof of the drift at his right 
 side. He exerted himself heavily in the work. It was 
 loosening. Soon it fell. Picking it up, he thrust himself 
 slightly forward toward the candle light in order to more 
 closely examine it. As he did so, he heard a dull slipping 
 sound. He started to turn, but was instantly pinned 
 down by an enormous mass of debris which fell from 
 the walls and roof of the drift. The constant percolation 
 of the water had loosened the mass, and the jarring blows 
 of the pick had finally felled it. 
 
 The old man uttered a fearful shriek. 
 
 Carried away by the ardor of his investigation, he had 
 deliberately crawled into a trap. 
 
 Fortunately the candle did not go out as it was placed 
 too far forward. The draught of air made by the falling 
 mass had nearly snuffed it, but the flame finally held. 
 
 The unfortunate man now lay upon his stomach with 
 his face within a foot of the candle. His legs and body 
 as far up as his navel were completely covered and 
 crushed. They lay under tons of rock and vein matter 
 and his situation was absolutely desperate. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the agonizing 
 thoughts which filled the old veteran's mind. He had 
 passed thru the war with the Brigade. He had fought 
 at Donelson, Shiloh, Vicksburg, and Lookout Mountain;
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 91 
 
 and at Atlanta, on that fearful Twenty-second of July, 
 1864, where the Brigade had fought on both sides of the 
 breastworks, he had received a bad wound. Always fac 
 ing death upon the battlefield, he was always prepared 
 for it there. He had laughed in its face a thousand times. 
 So often had he heard the song of the deadly minnie 
 ball and the death dealing shell as they plowed thru the 
 ranks of the Blue, that ne paid no more attention to 
 them than the reaper pays to the cut of the scythe thru 
 the wheat. 
 
 But here, in this wet slimy bowel of the mountain, he 
 was quite unprepared for the worst. The suddenness of 
 his calamity was awful. It was terrible to think that 
 this might indeed be death. 
 
 At first the old veteran squealed in his fearful mental 
 agony, as rats do when suddenly caught in the jaws of 
 a steel trap, and his agonizing cries echoed dully in the 
 black vault of the mountain. His arms, however, tho 
 badly squeezed, were partially free. Wildly he tried to 
 release himself. His hat fell off, and his long gray locks 
 and flushed face, all smeared by the slime of the wet 
 ro'cks, looked terrible in the dim light of the candle. 
 
 After the first desperate struggles and squealings of 
 the old man had ceased, he became horribly conscious of 
 the absolute certainty of his fate, and he began to emit 
 a fearful maniacal laughter. All these paroxysms, being 
 merely the animal like manifestations of the infallible 
 law of self preservation. The screams and struggles of 
 the victim were now almost instantly succeeded by his 
 pitiful moans, as the circulation of the blood began to 
 cease in his legs and lower body. Of all physical agonies, 
 none can exceed such a pain. It is invariably followed 
 by delirium and unconsciousness. 
 
 Peter's reason now began to assert itself in spite of his 
 horrible situation. He knew that he would soon be un 
 conscious, and he also knew that it would be impossible 
 for any human being to hear his cries, as the men were 
 too far distant in other levels of the mine. 
 
 Yes, this must be death. 
 
 His one thought then, was for the living, for Standish.
 
 92 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 He would write a letter. It was all he could do now; 
 to write a few lines, and then to die. 
 
 He did not need to write the manner of his death. 
 When they found his body they would know all. 
 
 With his right hand he managed to pull out his note 
 book from his upper vest pocket, and with it a pencil. 
 His mind was wonderfully clear now. These few mo 
 ments were pitifully precious. A few precious atoms of 
 time, in which to write a few last words to his dearly 
 beloved son. 
 
 Painfully opening the book, he placed a piece of ore 
 upon one side of it to hold it open, and then he proceeded 
 to write upon the other. This was the letter: 
 
 " 0, dearly beloved, adorable, faithful son, good-bye. I press 
 your lips for the last time. I embrace you. If you have ever 
 seen good in me, remember me for it. I may be dead forever. 
 The Bible is not always clear about the hereafter. But I know 
 that I am immortal in you. All fathers and mothers continue 
 to live immortal in their children, if not in them, in their friends. 
 I have found in life, that the individual is the supreme effort. 
 This effort inspires other individuals. From father to son. Stand 
 ing upon me, dear son, you must try to attain and do the things 
 I could not do. To endeavor, to try. It is the highest. It is the 
 grand symphony of Life." 
 
 The pain was fast dimming his senses now. Still did 
 his brave soul battle on grappling fiercely with Death. 
 
 A most divine thing is this death-defying sublimnity 
 of the soul. 
 
 The body may scream, may writhe in anguish; but 
 the soul, fearless and undaunted, sings its triumphant 
 song, e'en while the death rattle sounds harsh within the 
 shattered frame. 
 
 He would write a few more precious words. 
 
 Oh ! God ! How short the time. 
 
 His fingers were purpling, and he put the very vitals 
 vitals of his fast expiring life into his shaking hand. 
 
 He saw Calvary. He saw the shining face of his 
 Master. 
 
 He would write the sublime words. 
 
 Nav! Yes!
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 93 
 
 A last, supreme, agonizing struggle, with his soul 
 spreading its wings for distant realms, he wrote: 
 
 " I die a Christian." 
 
 The pencil fell from his nerveless hand. 
 
 Victory ! Consecration ! BLISS. 
 
 As his dying eyes bulged from their sockets under the 
 awful pressure of the mass which had engulfed him, they 
 saw revealed in the short sweep of their vision, a great 
 mass of shining ore. Hanging from the roof above him, 
 it was slowly settling, ready to fall. Old Peter Brown 
 would be buried in a grave of precious gold in the midst 
 of his great mine. 
 
 Gold is the price of human blood. 
 
 And here, still another victim to feed its hideous maw. 
 
 Frail human life may expire, but gold, the imperish 
 able metal, lives on forever. 
 
 Salt crusted and embrined in the vast silent caverns 
 of the sea, the barnacled hoard of countless wrecks and 
 great ships gone down in the awful Deep; stored away 
 in the massive vaults of national treasuries; piled up in 
 the strong boxes of the Princes of Mammon ; hoarded in 
 the stockings of the miser; and hanging as succulent 
 grapes in virgin clusters within the bowels of the moun 
 tains, Gold is the price of human blood. 
 
 Gold, pleasure seeking. Gold, militant. 
 
 The inspiration of the ancient Argonauts. 
 
 The tempting apple of Hesperides. 
 
 The conquering trafficer of the Phoenicians. 
 
 The flaming torch shining from the Heights of Ophir. 
 
 The yellow finger beckoning to the dauntless Columbus. 
 
 The bloody mistress of Coronado. 
 
 The dancing demon of the cruel Pizarro. 
 
 The god of Wall Street. 
 
 Gold, the supreme vampire. 
 
 Gold, the greatest of the Borgias, the adept of all pois 
 oners. 
 
 Gold ! Gold ! Thou art a monster, thou base metal 
 god of weak and unholy men. Thou art the supreme 
 human tempter. The cause of man's blackest vileness, 
 his greatest unholiest efforts.
 
 94 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Gold! Gold! Thou art the abhorred infinite addition, 
 the endless multiplication, the arch summing up and 
 extreme Luciferian calculus of human existence. 
 
 And yet, Oh Gold! Even as we curse thee. Oh, the 
 wonders and the miracles thou hast wrought in the world 
 of men. Tempting them, thou hast also raised and 
 glorified them, as thou hast also felled and ruined them. 
 
 The dying eyes of Peter Brown showed dimly in the 
 candle light. The slowly settling mass of ore and rock 
 was remorselessly crushing out his life. 
 
 It forced out his tongue. The blood, squeezed from his 
 body, colored his face to the purpleness of a beet. 
 
 "Swish slush." 
 
 Another tottering mass of ore slid down. With it fell 
 quantities of soft talc and vein matter, which, mixing 
 with the water, gradually spread. Slowly it enveloped 
 the dying man's face. Then it covered it. It spread on 
 over the book. It reached the candle. Another slushy 
 mass dropped. The candle was extinguished, and with 
 it a human life. 
 
 DEATH. 
 
 The annihilation of Birth. 
 
 A Mystery swallowing a Mystery. 
 
 A noiseless thing, falling into an eternal silence. 
 
 The final chronicle of man. 
 
 Birth, a mystery. Death, a mystery. 
 
 Mystery, the Beginning and the End. 
 
 The Alpha and the Omega of human existence. 
 
 The total. 
 
 The SUM.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 The dusk looked in on Standish. He threw down his 
 book and looked at his watch. It was nearly supper 
 time. 
 
 He went out doors. The sun had disappeared behind 
 the Peak and a sublime cloud effect was displaying itself. 
 A train of ore cars emerged from the mouth of the tunnel 
 nearby, drawn by a little fat burro driven by a happy 
 gay singing lad. Three of the cars were emptied into 
 the ore chute, and the heavy ore went tumbling down 
 with a rush and a roar into the railroad cars on the siding. 
 The other cars, filled with waste matter, were switched 
 on the dump line and their contents dumped into the 
 gulch. 
 
 Mechanically the lad coupled up the train of tiny cars, 
 and drove back into the tunnel. 
 
 " Everything O. K.," thought Standish. Shep came 
 running up and danced about his master's feet. Standish 
 petted him and yawned. He had been so absorbed in 
 the book, that he had read until he was sleepy. He went 
 into the cottage and started supper. Peter usually got 
 the supper, but when he was not there, Standish started 
 the meal at the usual hour. These two hermits were so 
 accustomed to each other's habits, that when one was 
 away, the other took hold of the household work as a 
 matter of course. 
 
 At six o'clock the night shift came on. The night 
 foreman came in and reported, and went into the mine. 
 A few minutes later the day shift came out, and the day 
 foreman came in and reported. As he turned to leave, 
 Standish said: 
 
 " Oh, say, Nelson, seen anything of dad?" 
 
 "Not today, sir," Nelson replied. But as he reached 
 the door he suddenly stopped. "Oh, yes, Mr. Brown, he 
 told me yesterday that he was going up on the seventh 
 
 95
 
 96 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 level to see how that blast came out. He and I bet the 
 cigars on the deal. Dad bet me that the lode would 
 widen instead of pinching out." 
 
 " Oh, all right," replied Standish. 
 
 The supper was ready. Standish waited impatiently, 
 many thoughts beginning to agitate his mind. 
 
 "Why don't dad come? I wonder if he really did go 
 clear up to the seventh level. By Jove! He's got to 
 stop this kind of business. He's too old and infirm for 
 such work. Its perfect foolishness for him to go into the 
 mine. I could just as well have done it for him." 
 
 The cottage was connected by telephone with the public 
 station in the postoffice at Plume. Standish rang up and 
 had the operator send a messenger boy for Mr. Howard 
 at the supply store. Soon the bell rang and Standish 
 went to the 'phone. 
 
 "Hello? That you, Howard? Say, has dad been 
 down to the store today? Not today? All right. Much 
 obliged. Good-bye." 
 
 Standish hung up the receiver. The supper was getting 
 cold and he could not eat it alone. Shep looked up 
 wonderingly into his master's face as he sat disconsolate 
 by the fire. Standish was as much disturbed as a little 
 child who comes home from kindergarten and finds its 
 mother is away. 
 
 "My God! Do you suppose No! It can not be!" 
 he exclaimed suddenly, as a terrible thought flashed 
 thru his mind. Starting to his feet, he fixed the fire, 
 turned down the light, and seizing his hat he rushed 
 out of doors, followed by Shep who leaped and danced 
 gayly in front of him. 
 
 Rushing into the tunnel, he took up several candles 
 at the entrance, but he did not light one then, as he could 
 see dimly by the light from the ore train ahead of him. 
 He soon overtook the train which was well advanced into 
 the tunnel going for another load. Shep was snapping 
 at the heels of his old friend, Buster, the burro. 
 
 " Howdy, Johnnie," said Standish to the boy driver, 
 "Can't stop this time," and on he rushed. 
 
 Johnnie looked thoughtfully after his retreating form.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 97 
 
 "Young boss is in a hurry tonight, wonder what's up. 
 Get-ap there, Buster, you old slow poke," he said, hitting 
 the burro a whack with a heavy pine slab upon a spot 
 upon the animal's hip from which all the hair was worn 
 off, and which was hardened like a piece of sole leather 
 by frequent whacks of clubs, shovel handles, crowbars, 
 and various other handy instruments of persuasion. And 
 momentarily roused by the sound of this gentle "tapping- 
 tapping," of course not by the sting, Buster slowly pulled 
 the train up the track toward the end of the long tunnel. 
 
 At the lower end of the chute at the end of the tunnel, 
 down which the ore and waste was shoved from the levels 
 above, was a small telephone which Standish had rigged 
 up himself. The wire was fastened to the chute, and 
 followed it to the upper end. The bell was not fitted up 
 electrically at that time, but was worked by means of a 
 loose wire which shook a small hand bell at both ends 
 of the line, when the wire was pulled back and forth the 
 bell rang out loudly, thus attracting the attention of the 
 men who were at work on that level. 
 
 At this time, mining in Colorado was a very different 
 proposition from what it is today. Machine drills were 
 practically unknown. Electricity as a motive power was 
 merely being talked of, and nearly everything was accom 
 plished by hand process, crude and primitive. 
 
 iStandish rang the bell vigorously. Soon a rough voice 
 responded. 
 
 "Is that you, Red?" asked Standish, and receiving an 
 affirmative answer, he continued. "Will you please come 
 down, Red, and bring McGuire with you. Let the other 
 boys finish up the work. I won't send you back up there 
 again tonight." 
 
 " All right, boss," replied the gruff voice. 
 
 While they were coming down, Standish looked about 
 for a shovel, and finding one, he cut a piece of rope from 
 a large coil which hung in the rocky chamber, and 
 fastened it thru the hole in the handle of the shovel. He 
 also found a pick, and adjusted a piece of rope to it in 
 a similar manner. 
 
 By this time Johnnie had arrived, with the ore train.
 
 98 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 "Seen anything of dad tonight, Johnnie?" asked 
 Standish. 
 
 "No, sir," replied the boy. 
 
 Standish could hear the men coming down the ladders. 
 Soon they reached the first level and emerged into the 
 tunnel. Standish looked at both them and the boy seri 
 ously. 
 
 "Boys," he said, "Dad hasn't come home for supper. 
 I 'phoned the store, but he hasn't been there at any time 
 today. When Nelson checked in tonight, he said that 
 dad had probably gone up to the seventh level on the 
 west end to see about that trial blast. Boys, it's hard to 
 think of, but mebbe mebbe something's happened to 
 him up there. It's the only place I know of to look for 
 him, and I want you to help me. Red, you take the 
 shovel. Mac, you take the pick, and I'll carry the dog 
 up, his scent may help us out." 
 
 The men looked at each other significantly and silently 
 picked up the tools. Johnnie's eyes opened wide in 
 alarm, and as they started to leave, he came up to 
 Standish and said, "Please, Mr. Brown, can't I go too?" 
 
 "Yes, Johnnie, give Buster a good feed, and come 
 along," replied Standish. 
 
 When they got well started toward the ladder which 
 led up to the seventh level, Standish, who was in the lead, 
 suddenly stopped, and stooping down, he pulled Shep 
 up to him saying seriously, "Shep, old boy, we've lost 
 dad, go find him." 
 
 The dog's brilliant eyes flashed a moment in the candle 
 light, and then he bounded away into the darkness. As 
 they neared the ladder they saw him go a few paces be 
 yond it, and then returning, and smelling and sniffing 
 at the slimy rounds, he began to bark furiously. 
 
 "My God! boys, this is awful. Dad has undoubtedly 
 gone up there, the dog scents his trail. Whether he's 
 alive and has possibly come down, is the thing we will 
 have to determine. What do you think, boys?" 
 
 Rourke and McGuire exchanged glances, but remained 
 silent.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 99 
 
 "Speak up, boys, don't be afraid, I can stand it," he 
 said with a pathetic glance. 
 
 " Boss, its a cinch that he's up there. If he had come 
 down the dog would lead us the other way. I've trailed 
 'em before. It's only a question of whether the old man's 
 
 hurt, and still alive, or wheth ," and Rourke stopped 
 
 speaking, as he saw the blood rush from Standish's face, 
 he could not say the word, "dead." 
 
 " Come on then, boys," said Standish fiercely. 
 
 Placing a fresh candle in the socket fastened to his hat, 
 he picked up the dog and carried him on his broad 
 shoulders. The dog was trembling with excitement, but 
 he laid quiet. He had often ascended the ladders with 
 Standish in this manner, and his instinct told him that 
 he must lie quiet in order to preserve the equilibrium. 
 
 Thus the little band started up the ladders, Standish 
 leading the way. The shovel fastened about Red's neck 
 clanked dismally as it struck the sides of the ladder. 
 They halted for a moment at each level, and each time 
 Standish released the dog. The knowing animal would 
 snuff about for a few paces, and then returning to the 
 ladder he would look upward and bark excitedly. Finally 
 reaching the seventh level, Standish released the dog as 
 before, and at once he bounded off in the darkness sneez 
 ing and barking. 
 
 "My God, that does settle it," groaned Standish piti 
 fully. 
 
 The men remained silent. Old experienced miners, 
 they had seen the death mark before. They only won 
 dered that it had not occurred before, as this was appar 
 ently the first accident which had ever occurred in the 
 history of the 40 Rounds. A remarkably low casualty, 
 considering the long period of the mine's operation. 
 
 They followed Standish carefully, the boy creeping 
 up between them. He was thoroly frightened by this 
 time, and wished that he had not come. As they neared 
 the end of the drift, they saw Shep thrusting his nose 
 into a mass of wet and slimy vein matter, and halting 
 they looked about them. 
 
 The roof had caved in badly. Yes, the shot had ex-
 
 100 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 posed over a foot of ore, old Peter had won his bet, the 
 ore had not pinched out. Standish looked questioningly 
 at the dog. 
 
 " Well, what is it, Shep?" he said. 
 
 The dog thrust his nose into the wet mass as tho to 
 fathom it. He leaped upon the pile, his feet sinking 
 several inches into the deep muck. Then he lowered 
 his delicate nose again. Suddenly he stiffened out, his 
 eyes gleaming with rare intelligence. Then slowly mov 
 ing his head back and forth over the mass he began to 
 howl dismally. The weird sound echoed hideously in 
 the grim vault. It was the death howl. The vault con 
 tained a corpse. 
 
 Then he began to scratch. His sharp claws grating 
 harshly upon the quartz between his low, fierce growls. 
 
 Standish, almost fainting, recovered himself, and turn 
 ing to the rough men at his side said, "Boys, this pile 
 of rock is a grave, please begin," and calling off the dog, 
 he had Johnnie hold him. 
 
 The men unfastened the tools from about their necks 
 while Standish lighted another candle and thrust it 
 into a chink in the wall. The first thing Red did, was 
 to advance to the side of the great pile of debris, and 
 cautiously thrust his shovel upward at the cave-in of the 
 roof. It looked solid, but he thought that they had bet 
 ter not advance too far. Returning he said: 
 
 " We'll begin at this end, Mr. Brown, its safer." 
 
 The two men worked swiftly, McGuire loosening the 
 stuff, and Red shoveling it back into the drift. As they 
 advanced slowly, inch by inch, the more carefully did 
 McGuire insert the pick into the pile. Soon a half 
 burnt candle fell from the debris. Standish seized it 
 and thrust it into his pocket. The men were steaming 
 from their exertions, but they were tireless and worked 
 like demons. 
 
 Every moment or so, the dog would try to tear himself 
 away from Johnnie; but unable to release himself, he 
 would bark furiously,, only a stern command from 
 Standish serving to quiet him. 
 
 Soon Red stooped down and picked up a pencil from
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 101 
 
 the last shovelful of stuff. Evidently when it fell from 
 Peter's fingers it had rolled toward the candle. Then the 
 note-book which contained the letter, stuck out from 
 the mass. Standish stooped down and picked it up, and 
 as he did so, he saw something different from the rocks, 
 the talc, and the ore. He forgot himself, and thrusting 
 his hand into the wet mass, he grasped the object. It 
 was the cold right hand of his dead father, lying extended 
 in the debris, just where the pencil had fallen from it. 
 He gave a terrible cry and leaped back. Then recovering 
 himself, he thrust the book into his pocket. The two men 
 dropped their tools, and all three attempted to exhume 
 the body with their bare hands, but they could only re 
 lease it in this manner as far as the navel. Their hands 
 were powerless against the enormous mass of ore which 
 had crushed out the old man's life. 
 
 Disdaining now the thought that another slide might 
 come down on them, they went boldly forward to the 
 breast of the drift, and resorting to the pick and shovel 
 again, they gradually broke up the huge mass of ore. 
 And as they did so, both Red and McGuire could not 
 help noticing the extreme richness of the ores they were 
 working in. Even in the presence of death, the miner 
 never loses his thirst and instinct for gold. He scents 
 the richness of the precious stuff, as naturally as the 
 bull scents the waiting herd. 
 
 At last the mass was broken up and removed, and the 
 mountain gave up its dead. 
 
 Carrying the body to a dry spot near the ladder, they 
 laid it out on the floor of the drift, there in the black 
 vault of the mountain, with the candles glimmering about 
 the head and body like the ghostly illumination of an 
 Irish wake. 
 
 Grief, pitiful agonizing grief, came slowly over them, 
 as they gazed at the kindly old face now so cold in death. 
 
 Standish, unable to longer contain his tears, threw 
 himself upon the form of his beloved parent and sobbed 
 like a child. The men could not stand it. Johnnie had 
 been blubbering for sometime. So Red blew out the 
 candles. It was a charitable act. Johnnie snuggled up
 
 102 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 to him and seized his hand, and thus the little band 
 wept there in the darkness. All about them was the vast 
 bulk of the mountain. Cold, pitiless, voiceless, eternal 
 materiality. 
 
 After a long silence, broken only by the sobs of 
 Standish, Red struck a match and lit the candles. Stand- 
 ish then rose calm and silent. He tore up his jacket, ard 
 with the strips and their two pieces of rope, he had the 
 men bind the body upon his broad back and shoulders. 
 Red carried the dog, and the tools were left behind. 
 
 Standish carried his precious burden down the entire 
 six hundred feet of ladders to the tunnel below without a 
 stop. The men had begged to relieve him, but he would 
 not listen. Then he walked thru the long tunnel and 
 carried his burden out under the stars and into the 
 cottage.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The bright sunny morning of the second day after the 
 death of Peter Brown, a group of miners stood near the 
 old shaft house of the 40 Rounds. Standish had closed 
 down the mine itself, and his men were here gathered 
 to blast a grave for old Peter out of the living granite. 
 
 Great drifts of snow were on the ground. Two hun 
 dred feet east of the shaft house was the edge of the great 
 ledge in which the lode of the 40 Rounds terminated 
 so abruptly. It was an enormous projecting buttress of 
 the Emerald, having an almost sheer height of two thou 
 sand feet above the level of the creek, and some fifteen 
 hundred feet above the cottage of the Brown's and the 
 mouth of the tunnel. 
 
 A hundred feet back from the edge of this gigantic 
 crag, grew a small clump of sturdy pines, half buried in 
 the deep snow drifts. The hundred feet intervening be 
 tween the pines and the edge of the ledge, was as bare 
 of vegetation and snow as one's hand, and its floor was 
 almost as smooth as polished marble. The snow could 
 not stay upon it. The eternal sweep of the mountain 
 wind carried it over the precipice as fast as it fell, and 
 no soil had ever accumulated there for the same reason. 
 
 But at a distance of a hundred feet from the edge, the 
 pines had managed to get a foothold. No one ever knew 
 how they accomplished the feat, or how they maintained 
 their 'brave, fearless, green lives on that bleak rocky emi 
 nence. Perhaps in the long ago, some fearful snow-slide 
 had deposited a little soil there, together with a bunch 
 of pine cones or their winged seeds, and in the spring 
 the warm sun had coaxed the little ones out from under 
 the snow. Getting a little start thus, they laid there 
 another long winter, and gradually gathering courage 
 with the eternal perenniality of Nature in their veins, 
 they had peeped up and smiled at the sky. Then as they 
 
 103
 
 104 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 gathered strength, they became more fearless, and as 
 they grew larger each succeeding season, they finally 
 grew to boldly defy the Storm King, and flecked their 
 green tipped boughs saucily into his face. Never a 
 breath of air in the gulch but what swayed these beautiful 
 pines. Isolated many hundred feet from their green 
 comrades on the further slopes of the mountain, they 
 shook and weaved merrily in the fierce play of the wild 
 mountain winds. They had survived the hurricanes of 
 summer, had withstood the snow-slides, the forest fires, 
 and the eternal crackling and tumbling of the great crags 
 above them. Erect, silvery green, beautiful as Norse 
 maidens, they tossed their boughs bravely and laughed 
 to scorn the wildest fury of the elements. 
 
 The bare place on the great ledge between this clump 
 of pines and the edge, was to be the last resting place 
 of Peter Brown. The view from this high eyrie of the 
 Emerald was magnificent. Far down the gulch shone 
 the slender ribbon of the silvery stream flowing between 
 the green clad hills. Plume and Joetown were both vis 
 ible. To the west rose the great Peak, towering nobly 
 majestic among its white mantled brothers. Across the 
 creek, the Castle reared its proud jagged crest, and the 
 entire Pay Rock .district was visible, with the great dumps 
 of the Pay Rock and the Sampson-Smith showing white 
 on the mountain side, and the black smoke rolling out 
 of the big stacks of their shaft houses. 
 
 Many times old Peter had expressed a desire to be 
 buried on the top of this ledge, and his faithful son was 
 fulfilling that desire. 
 
 The day following the discovery of Peter's body in 
 the drift o"f the seventh level, Standish had wired to Den 
 ver for a handsome mahogany casket and a metallic 
 case to contain it. The caskets would arrive on the after 
 noon train of this bright sunny day, and the vault which 
 was to contain them, was to be drilled and blasted out 
 of the solid granite floor of the ledge. 
 
 They were having a jolly time of it, these rough min 
 ers. Red Rourke, the night foreman, had just wagered a 
 keg of beer for the crowd, with Nelson, the day foreman,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 105 
 
 that he and his partner could drill a hole the required 
 depth, quicker than Nelson and his Swede partner. It 
 was to be Ireland versus Sweden. 
 
 There had always been a good natured rivalry between 
 the day shift of the 40 Rounds, which was composed en 
 tirely of Swedes, and the night shift, made up of Irish 
 men. The drilling of the holes in excavating this gran 
 ite tomb of Peter's afforded them an excellent opportun 
 ity to test the merits of each crew, and they flattered 
 themselves, that none would enjoy the affair more than 
 old Peter, whether he was there in the flesh or spirit. 
 
 Gathering up the drills and sledges the men walked 
 over to the ledge. Old Micky Rourke, Red's father, 
 marked out the dimensions of the vault according to the 
 previous instructions of Standish. It was to be excavated 
 in the exact center of the bare spot, a few feet east of 
 the clump of pines. And Micky unwinding a steel 
 tape, called one of the men to assist him. Then they 
 marked out the exact lines of the vault, with a brush and 
 a can of white lead, Micky painting the lines upon the 
 bare surface of the ledge. 
 
 While he did so, the contesting drill teams stripped 
 bare to the waist, scorning the cold air of the morning 
 and the chill of the nearby snow drifts; their beautiful 
 skins, covering magnificent muscles, shining in the 
 bright sunlight like the sheen of some delicate satin in 
 the gleam of a ballroom chandelier. The Swede's skin 
 was snow white, with a faint tinge of steel blue. It was 
 unmistakably Norse, the polar blue white, the fair flesh 
 covering beneath which flows the proud blood of the 
 Vikings. The Irishman's skin was a soft pink spotted 
 with great brown freckles, much coarser, though warmer 
 than the Swede's. Pinching it with the fingers, it would 
 instantly whiten, releasing it, the rich blood would rush 
 back and raise its hue to a vivid scarlet. Placing the 
 living bodies of these two great races before a student 
 versed equally in history as in anatomy, he could prob 
 ably readily tell, by examining the cuticle alone, the na 
 tionality of each subject, the Scandinavian and the Celt.
 
 106 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Micky cut a pine bough, measured off the exact length 
 that the holes were to be drilled, and trimmed the switch 
 accordingly. The team who first drilled the hole without 
 the stick projecting over the edge, was to be declared the 
 winner. 
 
 The contestants leisurely sorted out the required drills 
 and arranged them conveniently. Each team was pro 
 vided with two sledges in case one should break at the 
 handle or otherwise become defective. Old Micky was 
 the self appointed referee. He gave the word and the 
 two teams started in. Both Red and Nelson wielded the 
 sledges while their assistants held the drills. Between 
 the blows, the assistants gave the drills a slight twist, in 
 order to keep the holes perfectly straight and true. 
 
 The huge sledges were raised by these sturdy giants of 
 satiny skin and knotted muscles to their full length, and 
 then brought down upon the drills with terrific force. A 
 false stroke would undoubtedly crush the hand or per 
 haps the brain of the assistant, who was stooping down 
 manipulating the drill with his head only a few inches 
 away. But never a thought of a false blow by these 
 brawny giants of the Great Divide. 
 
 " Clank, clank," fell the mighty blows, steel falling 
 upon steel with the regularity of clock work, and as the 
 sledges were raised and the blows fell in rapid succession, 
 the onlooking group of miners was held spellbound in 
 the glorious exhibition, applauding the teams repeatedly. 
 
 The winning team was apparently a matter of mere 
 conjecture. The blows of the Irishman and the Swede 
 seeming to fall with equal force and speed, and their as 
 sistants seemed equally skilled in manipulating the drills. 
 
 Nelson weakened first. He dropped the sledge and 
 seized the drill while his assistant picked up the sledge 
 and began the same steady rain of blows. He was con 
 siderably lighter than Nelson, but his blows rang out 
 clearly as steel met steel, and the drill sank slowly but 
 surely into the solid granite. Soon Red weakened, and 
 he exchanged places with his team mate, McGuire, w r ho 
 worked the sledge like a demon. He was faster than any 
 of them, and the steel seemed to fairly sink into the hard
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 107 
 
 granite. Thus they spelled each other, and as the holes 
 grew deeper, they threw aside the short drills and inserted 
 longer ones. And such was the admirable dexterity dis 
 played by these expert miners, that they actually made 
 the exchange of drills between the blows with never ^ a 
 stroke missed. The winning team would probably win 
 by the merest fraction. 
 
 Old Micky was getting excited. "Hooray fer old Ire 
 land," he shouted, as he watched the magnificent play 
 of the Hibernian team. 
 
 A big Swede touched him on the arm. "Look at Ole 
 Nelson, hey bate your boy. Eh?" he said. 
 
 "Niver moind, now, you white headed galoot. Hoo 
 ray fer old Ireland !" snouted Micky again. 
 
 They had just inserted the longest drills which would 
 finish the holes. Their supple bodies were now steaming 
 heavily in the frosty air. They did not seem to tire, and 
 the flash of their white arms was answered by the deep 
 clang of the blows, just as regularly as when they first 
 started. The little group of miners pressed closer and 
 closer to them. Nelson's assistant motioned Micky to 
 make ready to measure their hole. All now depended on 
 the estimate of the man who held the drill. If the hole 
 was not deep enough, they would have to start the sledge 
 play again, thus giving their opponents the advantage 
 of a few precious strokes. The Irish team, however, 
 showed no signs of finishing as yet. Nelson's man nod 
 ded, and Micky plunged the stick into the hole. It pro 
 jected a mere fraction of an inch, and the Swedes des 
 perately renewed their stroke. In the meantime Red was 
 working like a fiend. Like most Irishmen, it was any 
 thing to beat, even if the stake was only the treat for the 
 crowd. The exertions which these men were putting forth 
 in this friendly contest, might be taking a year off their 
 lives. What mattered it, if a victory was to be won? 
 
 McGuire suddenly turned to the appealing face of old 
 Micky. 
 
 "Quick, Micky!" he panted, and in went the switch. 
 It was the exact length of the hole. A perfect fit, and 
 the onlooking Swedes admitted it. At that moment the
 
 108. THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Swedes yelled again, and in went the rod. Another per 
 fect fit. The Swedes had lost by Nelson's assistant mak 
 ing a slight miscalculation. If they had not stopped for the 
 previous measurement, the affair would have been a draw, 
 and even as it was, both sides admitted the equal skill 
 of the other. The rivals shook hands and got into their 
 shirts, little Johnnie being commissioned to go to town 
 on Buster for the keg of beer. Then several other miners 
 resumed the drill work on the vault, while Micky and the 
 two perspiring foremen visited a pile of ledge rock near 
 the shaft house, to block out a huge stone cross, which was 
 to be cut and placed to mark the tomb. 
 
 A little before noon Johnnie arrived with the keg of 
 beer, accompanied by several others boys and burros, who 
 brought up a substantial dinner which Standish had 
 ordered from the hotel in Plume. The dinner was served 
 in the old shaft house, made warm and comfortable by 
 the heat of the old cook stove. The men drank liberally 
 of the beer, and placed the keg near the vault where they 
 could prevent the small boys from disturbing it. At dusk, 
 another train of burros brought up a delicious supper and 
 an ample quantity of bedding. 
 
 In this day's work, the men had completed the vault, 
 drilled a deep hole to insert the base of the great cross, 
 edged up a huge flat stone for a cover, cut a deep groove 
 for it to overlap the vault, and had also finished a splen 
 didly proportioned granite cross to mark the last resting 
 place of Peter Brown. 
 
 After supper they played cards and smoked, also fin 
 ishing the keg of beer, the children having long since 
 been sent home. Old Micky had brought up his violin. 
 He had often played second to Peter's first at the town 
 dances in Plume. Seating himself near the stove, he 
 rapped sharply upon the instrument, and said: 
 
 "Ladies and gintlemen, that is, if any of yez galoots 
 is ladies paradin' roun' in gint's clothes, I wish to play 
 yez a piece that's very dear to me. Mony's the toime 
 I've heard the gude Peter play this tune, and its on me 
 heart to give it yez. Are ye ready?" 
 
 " Go ahead," they shouted eagerly, and Micky began 
 the familiar air of the " Mocking Bird." After swinging
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 109 
 
 deftly into the simple melody, he then took up the varia 
 tions, rendering them splendidly; his work receiving an 
 enthusiastic round of applause. Bowing with mock dig 
 nity right and left, he removed his hat and proceeded 
 to pass it among the jolly crew. Good-natured Nelson 
 put in a dime, which was the sole contribution. Looking 
 at it a moment, the merry Celt handed it back, saying: 
 
 "The poor crathure looks so lonesome loike, Ole, yez 
 had bether put it back in its nest. Shure, ain't I afraid of 
 Scandihoovian dough ennyhow, it makes such thin 
 bread." And the crowd laughed heartily at the witticism, 
 as they thought of the thin wafer like bread of the Swe 
 dish immigrant. 
 
 Standish had engaged several men from the Sampson- 
 Smith to assist him in getting the heavy caskets from the 
 C. C. & U. depot up to the ledge. The train due early 
 in the afternoon, managed to crawl into the depot at 
 dark, as usual, several hours late. The caskets, one inside 
 the other, and both enclosed in a rough outside box, 
 were fastened on runners and hauled up the steep trail 
 to the cottage. 
 
 The undertaker from Joetown who had prepared the 
 body for burial the day before, arranged it in the mahog 
 any casket. The lid was closed down, the cover of the 
 metallic case put on, the rough outside box was closed up, 
 and the burro train started for the shaft house, guided 
 by the Sampson-Smith boys. Standish had also secured 
 a melting pot, several bars of lead, and some tamping 
 irons with which to seal up the vault and the base of the 
 cross, and which were also loaded on the burros. There was 
 no moon, but the stars shone brightly, and the mountain 
 side was white with snow. 
 
 Up the steep winding trail toiled the procession, the 
 burros often stumbling and wallowing in the deep snow. 
 The great weight of the heavy caskets, and the extreme 
 steepness of the trail in the dim light, made it a difficult 
 undertaking. But their hearts were in their work, and 
 by midnight, after extreme exertions, they managed to 
 reach the shaft house. Bed clothing and a warm lunch 
 was provided for the Sampson-Smith boys, and Standish 
 guarded the caskets until day break.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The day of the funeral broke gloriously, altho 
 it was very cold. Standish roused his men, and they ate 
 a hearty breakfast, after which the caskets were run out 
 to the vault. A cold breeze swept up from the east, and 
 the deep freshly cut vault of shining granite glistened 
 with thousands of particles of hoar frost. The great 
 cross was then moved on rollers and raised upon a scaf 
 fold over the niche. By careful manipulation, it was 
 lowered without accident, and as it stood upright and was 
 stripped of its wrappings and ropes, the first beams of the 
 morning sun rose over the mountains and peeped into 
 the gulch. A fire was then built under the lead pot, the 
 lead melted, ladled, and run into the cracks about the 
 base, and then carefully tamped. That cross will probably 
 stand for centuries. 
 
 The rough box was then removed from the caskets, 
 the lid of the metallic case was carefully raised, and Stan- 
 dish threw a huge American flag over the mahogany 
 case. Ropes were then placed in readiness to lower the 
 caskets into the vault, and all was made ready for the 
 funeral. 
 
 As they finished their task, a loud report, resembling 
 that of a cannon, was heard. It was Red and Micky ex 
 ploding powder in an anvil near the blacksmith shop. 
 The discharge reverberated in deep thunderous tones in 
 the gulch, the roar echoing first from the near slopes of 
 the Emerald, and a few seconds later, from the great crags 
 of the Castle across the creek. It was the signal to the 
 people of Plume, and the anvil was thus discharged every 
 few minutes. 
 
 Presently the watchers on the ledge could see a series 
 of little black specks moving up the trail. The good 
 people of Plume were on their way to pay their last re 
 spects to old Peter Brown. 
 
 in
 
 112 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Among the first to arrive was Mr. Howard, the store 
 keeper. He was to make a few remarks in lieu of a min 
 ister, as Peter had been very fond of him. 
 
 Funerals do not vary much in their essentials. 
 
 From that remote time when the first man mourned 
 o'er his dead, and covered the strange cold clay with heaps 
 of stones to keep off the vultures and the wolves, the 
 funeral has ever been the same. A life fled, the tears 
 shed, the words of eulogy spoken. The sad burial, and 
 the body thus consigned to earth, mixes with the soil from 
 which it sprung. 
 
 It matters not that kings be embalmed, and placed in 
 marble tombs; or the sacred dead be reduced to ashes 
 and placed within a golden urn. 
 
 Behold! The AGES march. 
 
 The volcano spouts, the deep sea rushes in, the earth 
 quake surges; and tombs, urns, and catacombs, yield 
 and mix their dead with the eternal dust. 
 
 " Boom !" Came a deep roar from the Sampson-Smith. 
 They were taking up the funeral dirge. 
 
 " Puff boom !" Answered the 40 Rounds. 
 
 Presently the Pay Rock boys woke up. And "boom I" 
 came a mighty roar from a point near their shaft house. 
 
 "Bully," said old Micky, "Begorrah, Red, we'll give 
 her a whopper this time," heaping up a fearful charge 
 in the anvil. 
 
 "Puff boom!" It roared, rolling up the gulch like 
 a thunderbolt. 
 
 "Boom! Boom!" answered the grim batteries of the 
 Castle. Soon the Seven Thirty got into the battle, and 
 the Abraham Lincoln took up the fight. 
 
 The din became terrific, the thunderous discharges 
 reverberating and rolling unceasingly among the dizzy 
 crags of the mountains. 
 
 Peter Brown ; old veteran, brave soldier, honorable citi 
 zen, fellow musician, brother miner, Christian; your re 
 quiem is being sung among the vast defiles of the Rocky 
 Mountains, and your brother earthmen are rolling up
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 113 
 
 thunderous salvos, announcing your coming to the King 
 of Kings ! 
 
 Quite a crowd was gathered by this time. Many women 
 and children were there. Old Peter had remembered 
 every one of them at Christmas time during the past few 
 years. 
 
 Promptly at ten o'clock the undertaker removed the 
 mahogany lid, and Mr. Howard stepped forward and 
 made a neat address. As he closed his remarks, he opened 
 up a small notebook. It was the book containing the 
 letter written by the dying Peter to Standish. 
 
 Explaining the painful conditions under which the 
 letter was written, Mr. Howard further said: "Let there 
 be written upon the tombstone of this grand old man, 
 this sublime confession which he penned within the 
 shadow of death, 'I die a Christian.' " 
 
 A quartet had been gathered from among the throng. 
 They sang splendidly. As they did so, the crowd filed 
 slowly past the casket, to look once more upon the fea 
 tures of their old friend. 
 
 Several women brought flowers. Most precious blos 
 soms, grown in tin cans and bottles in the windows of 
 their tiny cottages. 
 
 What touching offerings! 
 
 Some of these precious flowers had taken months of 
 tender care to grow and protect them from the cold 
 bleakness of the Great Hills. How many times had they 
 been taken to the cottage window to catch the pale sun 
 light? How many times put near the fire at night, that 
 they might be safe from the cold winter wind? A prim 
 rose, a calla lily, a violet, a stalk of fragrant geranium, 
 a poor, half starved rose. Into the casket they dropped, 
 one by one. Not not in bunches, dear reader. That 
 was impossible in bleak winter bound Plume. Standish 
 saw these poverty offerings drop into the casket, and it 
 touched him deeply. He too, would remember these 
 faithful women of Plume at Christmas time, like his 
 good father. 
 
 A telegram had been received from Colonel Rose's 
 son, John, to the effect that the Colonel was sick in bed
 
 114 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and could not attend the funeral. A package containing 
 a great bunch of roses had come up on the train with the 
 caskets. They were from the Colonel and his wife. They 
 looked beautiful as they lay upon the starry flag, but in 
 Standish's eyes they did not compare with the precious 
 offerings of these poor miner women of Plume. 
 
 The crowd having filed past the casket, Standish came 
 last. He looked long and tenderly at the calm, peaceful 
 countenance, and he picked up the offerings of the miner 
 women and tucked them one by one about the white locks 
 of his father, causing the women to burst into tears. Ten 
 derly he pressed the cold lips for the last time, and then 
 Red and Nelson took him by the arms and led him away. 
 The quartet sang again, and the caskets were lowered into 
 the vault. Then they lowered the giant capstone, and pour 
 ing in the hot lead, they tamped it as it slowly cooled. 
 Again the anvil boomed forth. Again came the thun 
 derous response from the Castle. 
 
 And there you are, good Peter Brown, sealed up safe in 
 your little box to sleep the centuries. When the Great 
 Day comes of the coming of our Lord, with His flock 
 of snow white doves, His angelic band of palm bearers 
 and celestial choir of anthem singing cherubim; your 
 rocky sepulchre will open, and you will fly down to meet 
 Him in your white and shining robes of Christian faith 
 and endeavor. Down, down, from this high reared crag 
 of the Great Hills. Down, down, to the shores of the 
 great 'blue ocean, where will set His judgment throne; 
 down where the countless dead of the Sea, shall rise up 
 to meet the myriad dead of the Mountains and the Plains. 
 
 It was a glorious but terrible day for Standish. After 
 supper, as Shep and he sat alone in the tiny cottage, he 
 heard a footstep outside, followed by a timid knock on thd 
 door. 
 
 "A package for you, Mr. Brown," said a voice as he 
 opened the door. 
 
 "All right, Charlie," he replied, recognizing the son 
 of the hotel proprietor in Plume, "won't you come in?" 
 
 "Nope," replied the boy, "got to get right back, ma's 
 sick."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 115 
 
 " Good night, then, and many thanks for coming up," 
 said Standish, as he closed the door. 
 
 Then he opened the package. 
 
 It contained a dozen beautiful American Beauty roses, 
 tied with a lavender colored ribbon. Pinned to the rib 
 bon was a card which read as follows: 
 
 " Mr. Standish Brown, my other son, please accept our sin 
 cere sympathy in your sad bereavement." 
 
 It was signed, "Mrs. Mary Rogan," but the chirography 
 was that of Mollie's. 
 
 A touch of something sweet came over him. Name 
 less, voiceless, tender. It was the touch of a woman's 
 loving sympathy, and as he looked at Mollie's old love 
 star shining over yonder in the skies of his soul, he 
 smiled. Evidently from the color of the flowers they 
 had thought of him, the living, knowing that the dead 
 was more than bountifully remembered. 
 
 That night, he placed the roses upon one of the pillows 
 of his bed, where he and his father had slept together for 
 many years in the winter time, on account of the father's 
 rheumatism. He tucked the long stems under the sheets, 
 and the fair flowers smiled down upon him from the pil 
 low, instead of his father's beloved old face. Shep slept 
 at his feet and warmed them. The notebook which con 
 tained his father's death letter, he put under his own 
 pillow, and the precious violin and bow, he had taken 
 from their case and put on a chair beside the bed, where 
 he could reach them if he wanted to. And then, staring 
 up at the flowers with great wistful eyes, he wished that 
 he might not wake in the morning, for the road ahead of 
 him seemed so long and steep without his dear old pal. 
 
 How long he lay thus, he did not know. But soon Shep 
 began to snore. The restless mountain wind sang dis 
 mally in the chimney top. The fire died out. The night 
 closed in, and at last he slept,
 
 BOOK FOUR 
 
 THE PHENOMENA OF A SHADOW 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 ONE afternoon in the spring of 1893, an old man 
 sat upon a bench in the Union Depot in Denver. 
 Upon his lap was a little girl, and beside them was 
 a carpet bag containing their entire belongings. 
 
 They were Italians. Grandfather, Ferrari Lorenzo. 
 Granddaughter, Fiorina Lorenzo. 
 
 Here in this great flux of nations, America, the author 
 must ever resort to the "fatherland" of his character, in 
 order to give that character a faithful portrayal. 
 
 The great French master, Balzac, writes mostly of 
 Frenchmen. You instinctively feel this, and his words 
 confirm it.- In spite of his magnificent creation, "La 
 Comedie Humaine," it will never stand for anything 
 but French society, a mere department of that greater, 
 world wide, universal human society. 
 
 Dickens, in foggy London, writes of the English. 
 
 D'Annunzio writes of Italians. 
 
 A foreign author can likewise portray to his readers 
 with comparative safety, an American character. His 
 very mention of the name, American, conveying a de 
 cidedly fresh, New World atmosphere. His reader im 
 mediately comprehending in a general sense, that New 
 World atmosphere which so strongly marks the personal 
 ity of the typical American. It scarcely matters whether 
 the character is a native of Brazil, Mexico, Alabama, or 
 British Columbia, for the ordinary foreign reader has no 
 difficulty in immediately identifying him, as coming from 
 that wonderous eldorado, America. 
 
 But here, in these United States, in this vast pot-pourri 
 
 117
 
 118 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of all nations, we cannot speak of Americans in that 
 general sense. Such a term conveys no local meaning to 
 American readers. 
 
 When a contemporary American author describes a 
 character as coming from Missouri, Illinois, California, 
 New York, Maine, or any other of the numerous states 
 composing the Union, it conveys absolutely no meaning 
 of the pedigree of his character. In colonial times such 
 distinctions might, indeed, truly convey a certain sense 
 of one's ancestry, as the people of the different colonies 
 largely retained the original characteristics of the first 
 settlers. But since that time, the original colonial lines 
 have succumbed to a tremendous influx of foreigners, and 
 today all the States are people by a vast cosmopolitan 
 population of Negroes, Bohemians, Hibernians, Italians, 
 Chinese, Japranese, Scandinavians, Germans, English, 
 Russians, Jews, etc., together with a sprinkling of nearly 
 every other nation of the globe. 
 
 Nay ! To convey a true idea of American ancestry, the 
 mention of a locality, the state, community, or city, does 
 not to any great degree qualify or enlighten one as to the 
 character. The author being absolutely forced to revert 
 to the original fatherland for a pedigree. Thusly: 
 
 " He comes of good old English stock." " He is a 
 Scotchman." " He comes from the Emerald Isle." " They 
 are Sephardic Jews." " He is of Puritan descent." " She 
 is a French Creole." "They are Russians." 
 
 And with this information, or that of a like character, 
 mentioning either directly or indirectly the fatherland, 
 the character is instantly clothed in the sublime garments 
 of history. The mind immediately rolls back to the 
 glorious epoch of the character's fatherland, and in the 
 return surge, deposits the character thus illumed upon 
 the shores of the New World. 
 
 Thus this "old country" atmosphere, blended with the 
 state, ^city, or country life of the New World, is the basic 
 principle of describing American character. The father 
 land always first, the American atmosphere second; i. e., 
 always excepting "native Indians and minors not taxed," 
 following the language of certain legislative acts.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 119 
 
 Ferrari Lorenzo was an Italian, a Calabrian. He was 
 also a Red Shirt, a legionary of Garibaldi. One of those 
 who ate fire at Rome in 1849, and drank blood at Milazzo 
 in 1860. He was one of the Immortal Thousand who 
 finally drove the Bourbons from unhappy Sicily. 
 
 This dried up, thin visaged old immigrant, was one of 
 the immortal Garibaldian band who shouted " Rome or 
 Death!" on the bloody field of Mentana in 1867, only to 
 fall before the deadly fire of the French and Papal sol 
 diery. That deep scar upon his left temple is a certificate 
 of glory. It was furrowed by a ball from a French chasse- 
 pot. Besides receiving that scar, Ferrari also lost a son 
 at Mentana. A mere stripling, who lived long enough 
 to hold up a musket in the cause of suffering Italy, and 
 become a martyr for his country. Shot down in the 
 cause of united Italy. Like a beautiful flower which 
 opens up on a bright morning of early spring, and 
 perishes at night, in the deadly bite of a belated winter 
 frost, he died in Ferrari's arms. 
 
 As the grief-stricken father kissed the death-whitened 
 brow of his .son, his own red blood fell from the wound 
 in his temple and streaked the dying boy's fair pale 
 brow. 
 
 Ferrari's hair had already become gray in the cause 
 of united Italy. At the death of his boy it became snow 
 white. The heart is a greater bleacher of human hair 
 than the soul. 
 
 After Mentana, the Red Shirts were transferred from 
 living action into the pages of history sublime. 
 
 Another boy, a younger son of Ferrari, lived long 
 enough to be the father of little Fiorina. Both he and 
 the wife passed away by a visitation of the cholera in 
 the city of Naples. Ferrari's own wife, like Anita, the 
 brave wife of Garibaldi, died from the effects of following 
 her heroic husband thru a campaign of dire want and 
 exposure in the lost cause of republican Italy. Thus 
 Ferrari emerged from this black night of glory and 
 misery, alone, save for his little granddaughter, Fiorina. 
 She was the sole survivor of his family. 
 
 The burden of his sixty years, added to the weight of
 
 120 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 his terrible trials, did not, however, extinguish the fierce 
 republican flame which still burned within his indomit 
 able soul. Which is a sacred flame, burning inextinguish 
 ably even to this day within the souls of thousands of the 
 brave sons of Italy. 
 
 Banderia, Ciceruacchio, Mazzini, Garibaldi. The 
 brightest stars in the glorious firmament of Italy. 
 
 Republicanism had set Ferrari's soul aflame. 
 
 But alas! Triumphant royalty. Victorious Popery. 
 The King and the Priest. 
 
 When Mazzini died, the candle flickered in its socket. 
 When Garibaldi died, the last great light went out, and 
 with it the near hope of an Italian republic. 
 
 But Ferrari's republican torch being inextinguishable, 
 he learned to further feed its flame with that magic name, 
 AMERICA! 
 
 The United States of America, that generous sheltering 
 haven of the unhappy Pole, Hungarian, Finn, Armenian, 
 and Boer, together with many of his unfortunate 
 countrymen. 
 
 Ah! Yes! Sweet hope. 
 
 America, the land of the free. 
 
 Ferrari hoped to enjoy that glorious free air in the New 
 World, which he had fought and bled for so vainly in the 
 Old. 
 
 It took years of patient saving for him to accumulate 
 the passage money. His son's funeral ate up some of it, 
 the daughter's sickness and death absorbed a part of it, 
 and besides, his darling little Fiorina had to be fed and 
 clothed. 
 
 So the years rolled on, but Ferrari worked and saved 
 undaunted, and at threescore and two, when a man usu 
 ally retires in the knowledge of his brave deeds and with 
 his accumulated competency, this sturdy old patriot was 
 struggling for means to begin life all over again, in thai 
 great New World lying over a thousand leagues beyond 
 the shining Calabrian strand, and on the further border 
 of that rolling ocean upon which, in his spare moments, 
 he gazed with great wistful eyes. 
 
 Having lived one glorious life to the years of mature
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 121 
 
 age, he was to begin another. He must cast out infirmity 
 and renew his old veins with the fresh blood of youth. 
 Altho his worn out anatomy denied him this divine elixir 
 of youth, yet his sublime undaunted spirit furnished it. 
 Hope made his heart leap like a boy's. 
 
 Finally he had saved almost enough money for their 
 passage, and he was even daring to make occasional in 
 quiries about the promised land. 
 
 As he stood one day upon the dock at Naples, con 
 templating his departure for the New World, he over 
 heard the conversation of a group of Sicilians, who were 
 standing upon the decks of a steamer that was tied up 
 to the dock, and which was about to depart for the port 
 of New York. 
 
 " Denver," they said, "the mines near Denver." 
 
 Seeing the transportation agent among them, Ferrari 
 waited until the agent left the steamer, and going up to 
 him, he said, 
 
 " Denver, please write it on a card." 
 
 At which request, the agent handed him his business 
 card, after writing the name, "Denver," upon it. 
 
 A few months later, Ferrari and little Fiorina arrived 
 at New York. He had purchased tickets in Naples to 
 carry them clear thru to Denver. No one came to meet 
 them. They were strangers in a strange land. 
 
 Paupers. 
 
 Pauper immigrants. 
 
 Ferrari had only enough money to keep them in 
 victuals from New York to Denver. 
 
 The Government agent demurred. 
 
 Being paupers, they should be returned to Italy. They 
 had no friends. Could produce no collateral. Had no one 
 to meet them or offer a helping hand. 
 
 The interpreter discussed the matter with Ferrari. 
 
 Horrors! ! ! 
 
 This this their reception to the noble land of the 
 free. 
 
 This, the terrible message to a great soul bursting with 
 hope and republicanism. 
 
 Return to Italy ! Never ! 1
 
 122 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 He would take little Fiorina in his arms and jump 
 overboard, thus sinking his hopes in the ocean. 
 
 Ah! No! It could not be so bad. He would think 
 out a solution of the problem. 
 
 Statesmen plan Immigration Acts, " The restriction of 
 Immigration," etc. 
 
 Congress in open session argues the question. 
 
 Morbidists with long drawn faces proclaim the doctrine 
 of, "Protection from Over Population." 
 
 Spasamists cry, "Survival of the Fittest." 
 
 Sensationalists shout in wild frenzy, " Degenerates. Fill 
 ing up the United States with degenerates, the pauper 
 scum of Asia and Europe." 
 
 Oh, great Master of souls, hear our appeal. 
 
 Away, destroyers of holy light, crushers of hope, 
 smotherers of sweet charity. 
 
 Up men! 
 
 Brothers, Christians! Israelites! ! 
 
 God made man in His own image. 
 
 Are we to destroy His glorious creation? 
 
 We, who ourselves came to this virgin New World of 
 America, with timorous hope upon our lips. 
 
 We, the sons of those fathers, who settled here upon 
 the broad land and formed a commonwealth of free 
 people. Can we deny our fellowmen that same glorious 
 privilege ? 
 
 Shut these glorious doors of Liberty in the face of the 
 poor immigrant? 
 
 Never ! 
 
 As well close the sublime portals of heaven, which 
 indeed would be closed upon the fiend perpetrating such 
 an outrage. 
 
 Oh, citizens, congressmen, legislatures. 
 
 Interpret the full import of the divine words of the 
 Master. 
 
 "Consider the lilies of the field, how they grow; they 
 toil not, neither do they spin; and yet I say unto you, 
 that even Solomon in all his glory was not arrayed like 
 one of these."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 123 
 
 "Wherefore, if God so clothe the grass of the field, 
 which today is, and tomorrow is cast into the oven, shall 
 He not much more clothe you, ye of little faith?" 
 
 "Therefore take no thought saying, What shall we eat? 
 or, What shall we drink? or, Wherewithal shall we be 
 clothed?" 
 
 "For after all these things do the Gentiles seek; for 
 your heavenly Father knoweth that ye have need of all 
 these things." 
 
 "But seek ye first the Kingdom, of God, and his right 
 eousness; and all these things shall be added unto you." 
 
 " Take therefore no thought of the 'morrow; for the 
 'morrow shall take thought for the things of itself. Suf 
 ficient unto the day is the evil thereof." 
 
 Do we accept the great Jew, brothers, or do we crucify 
 him again? 
 
 " QUO VADIS." 
 
 "Which way are you going?" 
 
 To Rome to exalt a great cause, or to Oblivion steeped 
 in cowardice and selfishness incarnate? 
 
 To walk illumed in the presence of Almighty God, or to 
 skulk in the dark halls of Lucifer? 
 
 Having seen the light of divinely founded Israelite 
 brotherhood, yea, even to martyrdom, are we to plunge 
 again into the dark realms of unholy self? 
 
 Shall we selfishly defend the bone like the dogs and 
 the wolves, or shall we unselfishly divide the crust as 
 true Israelites? 
 
 Father, Son, and Holy Ghost, look down upon your 
 people, Israel. Feed us with sweet soul manna. Give 
 us the loaf of Charity. The meat of universal brother 
 hood. Tho our great nation teems with population as 
 the busy ants in their hill, still let us be led in the 
 grandeur of that sublime faith, Israel, taught by the 
 Founder of the Stars. 
 
 Our national motto is, "IN GOD WE TRUST." 
 
 Do we give it the lie in practice, or are we true? 
 
 As Ferrari stood looking apealingly into the eyes of 
 the interpreter, he suddenly thought of something, and
 
 124 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 thrusting his hand into the depths of his jacket, he pulled 
 out a piece of oilcloth in which was wrapped a letter. 
 He handed it with tears in his eyes to the interpreter. 
 It ran as follows, 
 
 " To Whom It May Concern : 
 
 "The bearer, Ferrari Lorenzo, is one of Italy's truest patriots. 
 He is one of the original band of Red Shirts. A veteran who 
 fought at Rome, Milazzo, and Mentana. He is worthy of all the 
 respect and assistance that can possibly be shown him. 
 
 (Signed) "GARIBALDI." 
 
 Ferrari had kept this precious paper ever since the 
 time, when the great hero of Italy had handed it to him 
 with these words, 
 
 "After Mentana, Ferrari, it is to die. Farewell." 
 
 This letter had helped Ferrari more than once in his 
 native land, would it help him here? Would the magic 
 of Garibaldi's name work in America? 
 
 The interpreter translated the contents of the letter to 
 his chief. 
 
 Ah, yes, Ferrari, these hospitable shores of America 
 once domiciled your general. He is known wherever 
 the cause of liberty is known. Garibaldi and Liberty are 
 still synonymous terms in America, forgetful as we have 
 become. 
 
 The inspector looked once more into the appealing 
 wistful face of the old immigrant, and into that of the 
 shy, frightened dove of a girl hiding behind her grand 
 father's jacket. 
 
 A follower of Garibaldi. A Red Shrit. One of the 
 Immortal Thousand! 
 
 Enough ! 
 
 The inspector respectfully returned the letter to Fer 
 rari, and with a low bow admitted the Lorenzos to the 
 free soil of America. 
 
 Arriving in Denver, Ferrari spent the first day in a 
 vain search for work. 
 
 He found an employment agency thru the medium 
 of an Italian fruit vender, -the proprietor of which was
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 125 
 
 a Sicilian, who had little use for a Calabrian. They were 
 almost mortal enemies in his eyes. The Sicilian happened 
 to be of a low type, of the dog nature, the brute. He had 
 probably never heard of Milazzo, that bloody victory of 
 united Italy, which drove the Bourbons from Sicily. 
 
 " Still," reflected the avaricious Sicilian, " I can make 
 two dollars out of him, even if he is a Calabrian." 
 
 "Give me two dollars," he said to Ferrari, "and I will 
 get you a job in the mines." 
 
 Ferrari opened his money pouch. It contained three 
 dimes and three pennies. The agent looked at the miser 
 able pittance in angry disgust. 
 
 " Get get out of here," he said excitedly, pointing 
 threateningly to the door. Ferrari's eyes gleamed fiercely, 
 but he left quietly. 
 
 That night, thru the kindness of the depot watchman, 
 Ferrari and Fiorina slept on one of the benches in the 
 depot. For breakfast, they ate a dry loaf of bread and 
 two bananas, costing them a total of ten cents. 
 
 And now, as Ferrari sat on the depot bench this after 
 noon, after a vain search for some one who would un 
 derstand his speech and give him work, he was wondering 
 about dinner. So was little Fiorina. She was getting just 
 real hungry. Somehow her usually gay little heart was 
 very heavy, and as she sat there upon her grandfather's 
 lap, she was almost ready to cry from sheer weariness , 
 and hunger. A great gloom was settling down upon them. 
 No money, no work, no home. Strangers in a strange 
 land. 
 
 As they sat thus, in the midst of a great throng of 
 passengers, a tall man came in. It was Standish Brown. 
 Upon his shoulders was a monkey. And as he passed 
 them, Fiorina, child like, sprang from her grandfather's 
 lap and leaped and shouted at the sight of the animal. 
 Monkeys and hand-organs in old Naples, were as thick 
 as popcorn venders in Denver in 1903, and the child was 
 wild with delight in finding something familiar in this 
 great strange America. 
 
 Standish was going up to Plume on the 3:30 P. M. 
 train. He had come to Denver on a business trip, and
 
 126 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 quite by accident had noticed the animal in a Sixteenth 
 Street curio shop. It was young, intelligent, and of good 
 size, and Standish was much amused at its antics. Then 
 the thought had suddenly struck him that the animal 
 would be a good companion for both himself and Shep, 
 and so he had bought it with all the gusto of a pleased 
 child. 
 
 As Standish looked down at the tiny little girl, Fiorina 
 was only eleven years old, her face was all aglow with 
 eager childish innocence and play. 
 
 Vainly reaching her arms up to the chattering animal, 
 as it sat perched high on Standish's shoulder, she fairly 
 squealed with delight, and called to it in a strange jargon 
 of purest affection. 
 
 Noting the child's extreme emotion, Standish pulled 
 Billy down from his shoulder and stood him on a bench. 
 Instantly, the delighted child, without the slightest hesi 
 tation, hugged him to her breast, and carried him over 
 to her grandfather, dancing joyously as she did so. A 
 faint gleam of light came into the old man's eyes. He, 
 too, was reminded of sunny Naples, and stretching out 
 his hand he also stroked wistfully the unprotesting Billy. 
 
 Standish looked at the depot clock, "3:15," he had a 
 good fifteen minutes yet to wait before the train left, and 
 becoming deeply interested in the strange couple, he 
 walked over to them and began talking to Ferrari. The 
 old man shook his head, he did not understand. He 
 looked up wistfully at Standish with his dark eyes, and 
 then he started quite perceptibly. He was looking into 
 the eyes of a soul-man. A being who emanates a celestial 
 light. That holy light which is symbolized in pictures 
 as a bright halo or nimbus shining about the heads of 
 the saints. He had seen it more than once on the face 
 of Garibaldi in battle. 
 
 Ah ! This fine tall man, must be the real true Ameri 
 can of his dreams. He must see. Now Ferrari only knew 
 three words of Anglo-Saxon. One was, "Denver," the 
 other two he had 1-earned from the transportation agent 
 at Naples. 
 
 Rising to his feet, as Standish stood there vainly en-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 127 
 
 deavoring to make him understand, he clasped his old 
 thin hands, and looking into Standish's friendly face 
 beseechingly, he spoke the words, "Me worka." 
 
 The pathetic words went straight to the mine owner's 
 heart. He pulled out a dollar and offered it to the im 
 migrant. Ferrari shook his head, and pulling out his 
 money pouch, he emptied its contents into his thin crab 
 fingered hand. Standish looked down. Twenty4hree 
 cents. 
 
 "My God, was it possible," he thought, "that this poor 
 devil, with a child to support, was absolutely alone in a 
 strange land, and possessed of only twenty-three cents?" 
 
 Then he pulled out his wallet and taking from it a ten- 
 dollar bill, he handed it to Ferrari. The Italian's eyes 
 glittered, he knew that it must be quite a sum ; but no, 
 much as he needed the money, he needed a friend more. 
 Once securing the friendship of such a man, the money 
 would naturally follow. Thus, tho Ferrari deeply ap 
 preciated the offer of money, but better than money, his 
 judgment of this kind man must be vindicated. He 
 shook his head again, wringing his thin hands mutely, 
 and groaning with despair that he could not make him 
 self understood. 
 
 "Ave Maria! This is a heaven-sent friend; he must 
 never leave me," the old Italian thought; and kneeling 
 down on his knees in front of the astonished mine owner, 
 he clasped his hands appealingly, uttering once more 
 the heartrending words, " Me worka." 
 
 It was too much for Standish, and several people at 
 tracted by this strange man worship, stopped and looked 
 at them. The tall mine owner's heart was deeply touched, 
 and thrusting the bill back into the wallet, he lifted 
 Ferrari to his feet. He felt sure that the old fellow was 
 an Italian, from the peculiar dialect with which he spoke 
 the two words; and also his unmistakable dark, swarthy 
 complexion, and the light olive shade of the girl's. He 
 proposed to take them up the street and find some dago 
 fruit vender w r hom he could use as an interpreter, and 
 thus he would learn the immigrant's story. His train was 
 due to leave now. Yes, it was too late to catch it. Be-
 
 128 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 sides, he wouldn't have taken Billy from the arms of 'that 
 beautiful dancing child for a million dollars. So motion 
 ing Ferrari to follow him, the queer trio, with Fiorina 
 carrying the monkey, went up the street. 
 
 Thru the medium of a fruit vender, Ferrari -told his 
 story, also producing Garibaldi's letter, which was read 
 by the vender with considerable interest. Standish was 
 quite familiar with the history of Garibaldi and his im 
 mortal legion of Red jShirts, and his heairt warmed 
 strangely toward the pair. And and all Ferrari asked 
 was work. 
 
 " Here is a genuine case of charity," thought the mine 
 owner. "I will take him and the girl up to Plume, and 
 set him at some light work in the mine." This decided, 
 he informed the delighted Ferrari, and they sought the 
 nearest eating place. 
 
 They caused quite a bit of amusement in the restaurant. 
 Billy was given a place at the same table with them, sit 
 ting in a high chair beside his owner, who was forced to 
 suppress his frantic grabbings at the food several times. 
 Little Fiorina was in heaven. How she laughed at the 
 antics of Billy as Standish fed him a pickle. 
 
 And how happy old Ferrari was. In his soul blossomed 
 a great hope. "A home in America, the land of the 
 free." 
 
 The next day the queerly-assorted party arrived in 
 Plume. Old Micky Rourke happened to be at the depot 
 when the train pulled in. And as he viewed the outfit 
 coming down the platform his eyes fairly bulged with 
 astonishment. 
 
 "Holy Mither of Moses!" he ejaculated, "shure, he's 
 got it all but the hand-organ and -the penny-box." 
 
 And as they passed, Micky called after them, "I sup 
 pose, Misther Brown, the hand-organ's comin' up on the 
 nixt thrain?" 
 
 Standish and the onlookers laughed heartily at the 
 Irishman's remark, and the little group of depot loungers 
 stared in mild astonishment, as he and his new-found 
 friends passed up the trail to the cottage.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Standish was thirty-three years old. He was of that 
 type of individuals who mature slowly. The boy was 
 still clinging to his form, actions, and to his soul. 
 
 He romped with Shep with all the enjoyment of a lad 
 of twelve, and he often wondered if he would ever be 
 come a real man. If he would ever have a positive, settled, 
 definite thought about people and events. So far in life, 
 he had seemed always to swim in a great sea of indefinite 
 ideas, vague uncertainties, intangible questionings. But 
 unknown to him, his thought was in that period of gesta 
 tion which invariably precedes the birth of maturity. 
 How he longed to reach a solid rock of certainty amid 
 the dizzy whirlpool of his ideas. Some sure place of 
 refuge, where he could rest from the fierce buffetings of 
 those towering billows of wild indiscriminate mental 
 action. 
 
 In the two years which had elapsed since his father's 
 death, he had sought the solace of books. Not books of 
 mining, of science, or of engineering; but just plain, com 
 mon books. 
 
 But what treasuries. 
 
 Rare constellations of heavenly luminaries. 
 
 Bouquets of soul flowers, handfuls of bleeding hearts, 
 filling his soul with divine fragrance. 
 
 Roaming with Cooper among the haunts of the Mo 
 hicans. Learning to stalk the deer; to cast the fly upon 
 the glassy bosom of the forest-fringed lake ; and from this 
 same inimitable Cooper, learning to sail out upon the 
 great blue ocean, and to navigate the most distant storm- 
 tossed seas. 
 
 With Irving, he made merry with the New World 
 Dutchmen, and from the summit of the well-remembered 
 mountain, he watched the weird play of the goblins in 
 their thunder-reverberating game of ninepins. 
 
 129
 
 130 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 From Dickens, he learned the life of the "poor in 
 spirit," to love the lowly, to weep silently in some dark 
 corner as gentle eyes beaming pathetically from sweet, 
 tender faces, looked up into the face of God, and smiled 
 their thanks for all their misery. 
 
 With Thackeray, he learned to nibble olelightfully the 
 dry crust of Humor, and to sip the sparkling glass of 
 Satire. 
 
 With Lever, he donned scarlet jacket, white breeches, 
 and shining boots; to dash gayly after the loud baying 
 hounds upon the back of a great roan mount. 
 
 With Scott, he fought the infidels, and manfully battled 
 with chivalrous armed knights from behind a great shield. 
 He broke lances with "Ivanhoe," and dashed gallantly 
 after wild " Rob Roy." He read rare inscriptions on 
 tombstones with " Old Mortality," and enjoyed the queen 
 ly revel of the stately halls of " Kenilworth." 
 
 After the long leap across the Atlantic, from America 
 to the shores of "merry England," it was but a short 
 jump across the Channel to France. And what a jump ! 
 
 From an English fair, to a French jolly making. 
 
 From the rare fragrance of English roses, to the white, 
 yet blood-stained lillies of France. 
 
 Dumas peopled his soul with gay cavaliers. He parried 
 rapier thrusts with D'Artagan, plotted with Aramis, ate 
 and drank prodigiously with the lusty Athos. 
 
 Balzac introduced him to gentle "Eugenia Grandet." 
 For days she haunted his soul, as noble a creature as ever 
 sprang from an artist's brain. He wept at the death of 
 " Pere Goriot," and at the tragic death of " Cousin Pons," 
 he almost fainted. 
 
 By this time, all the strings of the great harp of fiction 
 were in place, save the heavy bassos. 
 
 Hugo furnished these, and Standish strung them in 
 place with "Jean Valjean," "Fantine," "Claude Frollo," 
 " Quasimodo." 
 
 But enough! These masters have surveyed the world, 
 cut it up into acreage, blocks, streets, and lots. 
 
 Occasionally a pretentious and widely-exploited modern 
 novel parades the streets of contemporary literature with
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 131 
 
 all the blare and gusto of a village brass band; but when 
 it enters the " Big Show" tent of the Past, and is stilled 
 by the grand concert band of the masters, it stacks its 
 crude instruments upon the green, and from the side 
 lines gapes at the great circus with open mouth and 
 delighted mien. 
 
 A volume of the masters 1 
 
 Mere white pages printed in black type. 
 
 Yet what grief-stricken mortal having read these ce 
 lestial luminaries, can ever know a sorrow which cannot 
 be soothed, or know a, heart hunger that cannot be ap 
 peased? What pessimistic man or woman, can ever gaze 
 upward at these bright and shining stars, and solemnly 
 affirm, that there is no joy? 
 
 Thus, Standish, overwhelmed with grief at the loss 
 of his parent, was assuaged and soothed by the books 
 of the masters. In the delicious and confidential com 
 pany of these precious volumes he found that romance 
 and experience which could not be found in the life 
 about him. 
 
 Dull, ignorant, tho honest and simple miners. Their 
 monotonous vocation was deeply reflected in the grim 
 stolidity of their features. To tap the drill, and explode 
 the blast in the bowels of the mountains, this was their 
 life. Heedless alike of the wild storms outside, or the 
 song of the laughing stream which filled the gulch, they 
 fought the dull granite and dug the ore. In their homes 
 they sought the silent joys of the family. 
 
 The mine where they earned their bread. 
 
 The cottage where they ate it. 
 
 This was their sole existence, unless, alas, if one men 
 tions a peculiar weakness for drink and gaming. 
 
 Such a life has few attractions for a bright, singing, 
 soaring soul. 
 
 Its terrible monotony, its inflexible regularity, its deadly 
 sameness; eventually blights and slays the soul. It pro 
 duces an intellectual dry rot, which is succeeded by mental 
 dissolution. 
 
 In spite of his books, however, Standish was not en 
 tirely removed from that great sea of mental uncertainty
 
 132 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 which so deeply agitated him. But, and he knew it not 
 then, all the rough buffeting of these tremendous thought 
 billows, were slowly but surely training his intellect. 
 
 In the presence of the greatest Doubt, is often born 
 the greatest Certainty. 
 
 Standish's individuality was gradually fashioning out 
 a craft with which he could safely navigate the great 
 ocean of Mind. 
 
 Such a craft is built by all those individuals who seek 
 to build. But if the individual is satisfied to merely drift, 
 he is fated to toss aimlessly about upon the wild seas of 
 life, completely at the mercy of the seething, raging, un 
 controlled elements of Mind. 
 
 Thus a brave, mastery-seeking individual, swimming 
 blindly at first in the vast abyss of the intellect, and com 
 pletely at the mercy of the tumbling waters of the present 
 and past ages of thought, is often discouraged. 
 
 But giving it a chance, once arousing the inclination, 
 this same swimmer, this inner self, this heroic ego we call 
 the individual, will gradually fashion out a thought craft, 
 by which to navigate the boundless sea of the intellect. A 
 board here, a rope there, and at last a sail; and in the 
 niaturer years, this swimmer, this dauntless individual, 
 having once built his ship, paces the firm deck of his 
 craft serenely as it plows thru billowy seas, and lands 
 him safe at last in the secure haven of Knowledge. 
 
 But Standish did not forget his business interests in 
 spite of his many hours of book revel. He adjusted the 
 large estate of his father. It was a simple matter, as he 
 was the only heir. He really could not comprehend the 
 great extent of his riches. And while it amazed the 
 court, it did not in the least change Standish's mode of 
 living. He occupied the same cottage which had formerly 
 sheltered them, Shep and Billy were his only companions 
 therein, and he still cooked his own meals. 
 
 The mine still produced large quantities of rich ore, and 
 new ore bodies were being constantly discovered and 
 developed. The hoard in Denver had been greatly in 
 creased since his father's death, and at each annual set-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 133 
 
 tlement with the Colonel, the bundle of securities and in 
 vestments grew fatter and fatter. 
 
 Maintaining the splendid wage plan of his father, 
 Standish cared for his men royally, but the only really 
 systematic philanthropy he indulged in, was celebrating 
 Christmas among the people of Plume. This cost him 
 several thousand dollars every year, but oh, the joy it 
 brought him, as well as the good people of the village. 
 The joy of giving, the joy of receiving. Every family 
 in Plume was remembered, not only with a generous 
 stock of substantial for the use of the entire household, 
 but also choice individual gifts given to the different mem 
 bers of the family. He employed a man for sixty days 
 in advance of the holiday in compiling a list of prospective 
 recipients, and purchasing the supplies and gifts from 
 wholesale houses in the city. And for many days after 
 Christmas, the gulch rang with the joyful shouts of happy 
 children playing with their toys, and was warmed with 
 many a smile and sigh of contentment from their elders 
 in the possession of some long-coveted comfort,
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The Lorenzos lived in a tiny cottage in Plume, which 
 was located only a few feet from the creek. Fortune had 
 treated them kindly since they arrived. Standish em 
 ployed Ferrari at odds and ends about the mine, and in 
 the course of time, he became the general utility man, 
 being allowed his own time and convenience for the work ; 
 for in consideration of the Italian's advanced years, 
 Standish gave him all the privileges possible. 
 
 Ferrari did not abuse this confidence, proving himself 
 a capable and conscientious workman. He soon began to 
 pick up quite a smattering of Anglo-Saxon, not only thru 
 his daily contact with his employer and the men, but 
 also from the precocious Fiorina, who attended the vil 
 lage school, and who, altho rapidly acquiring the language 
 of the States, could never quite shake off her peculiar 
 Italian accent. 
 
 "She is very bright and lady-like," the teacher said one 
 day, in answer to an inquiry from Standish. 
 
 Fiorina kept the cottage as neat as wax, for Ferrari was 
 a strict, tho gentle parent. Standish maintained a deep 
 and affectionate interest in his proteges. He gave many 
 little gifts to both Ferrari and Fiorina, and Fiorina often 
 visited him at his cottage to keep up her acquaintance 
 with Billy. Standish invariably giving her an apple, an 
 orange, or some sweetmeat to take home with her. Her 
 childish prattle was a great treat to him, and during her 
 vacations she spent many hours in his company. 
 
 She was a beautiful child, with dark-brown, curly hair, 
 and light, olive complexion. Her plump cheeks were 
 tinged with bright carmine, and she possessed an exquisite 
 form, and one that was developing and maturing very 
 rapidly, as is usual with the women of the southern races. 
 Her languishing brown eyes were the perfection of optical 
 expression. When they spoke, the long curling lashes 
 
 135
 
 136 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 leaped eagerly to kiss them, and, in fact, her whole dainty 
 body, constantly qui vive, seemed to dilate instantly and 
 spontaneously to express the rare thought playing within 
 her diaphanous soul. 
 
 If she was merry, her eyes danced, her lips parted in 
 a lovely smile, her arms and hands were gracefully ex 
 tended, her body lightly poised; and every line and 
 muscle of her perfect anatomy seemed to move to the 
 rhythm of her laughing soul. 
 
 When she was sad, which was seldom, her figure in 
 stantly drooped with the swiftness of a passion flower, her 
 eyes filled with tears, her hands w r ould go to her eyes, and 
 her whole body would instinctivly shrink from the object 
 which made her weep, or the thought which made her sad. 
 She was, indeed, a true Latin. 
 
 Ah, Italy ! Fair Italy ! 
 
 Dear fatherland of passionate music, exquisite art, 
 flawless beauty. 
 
 Nelson and Rourke, observing the apparent "pull" 
 which Ferrari had with their employer, were somewhat 
 inclined to be jealous. Standish observing it in them, in 
 vited all three of them into his cottage one evening. 
 Seating them by the fire, he opened up a history of Italy, 
 which he had recently purchased, and he read aloud to 
 them a graphic description of the battle of Mentana. 
 Ferrari could not make much of it, but he comprehended 
 enough to know that the subject was that of his beloved 
 Italy and Garibaldi. 
 
 After finishing the account, Standish explained to the 
 two foremen Ferrari's part in the battle; of how he had 
 lost a son upon that bloody field, and of how the scar 
 on Ferrari's temple had been made by a bullet from a 
 Frenchman's chassepot. Then he asked Ferrari for Gari 
 baldi's letter, and showing the men the great Italian's 
 signature, and explaining to them the contents of the 
 epistle, as it had been translated to him by the fruit 
 vender in Denver, he looked up at them in mild reproach. 
 
 The two men looked silently into the dark, sorrowful 
 eyes of the white-haired old hero, and being only human,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 137 
 
 they could not fail to render tribute to hoary heroic man 
 hood. Red arose and silently extending his hand to 
 Ferrari, gripped it until the old veteran fairly winced. 
 Nelson did the same, and from that time on there was a 
 perfect understanding between them. Brave men ap 
 preciating another brave man. And Ferrari there 
 after held a place among the men of the 40 Rounds, 
 that was in a niche by itself. It was almost a shrine. 
 
 Ferrari liked his life in Plume for the very reason that 
 the widow Rogan had disliked it. She wanted to be near 
 a priest. Ferrari did not, he hated them. He wanted 
 to be as far removed from them as possible. 
 
 Ah! Humanity, humanity! How art thou likened 
 unto the ever changing cloud, which, from the valley 
 shines resplendent in the sun, a thing of glory ; while on 
 the mountain-side, that same beautiful cloud has assumed 
 a terrible aspect to the traveler whom it is pitilessly 
 drenching to the skin. Mrs. Rogan had seen only the 
 great glory of Rome in a free, enlightened land, the snowy 
 fleece of the cloud, as it were ; while Ferrari had seen only 
 the great misery of it in a land of bigotry and supersti 
 tion, the pitiless rain of it as it had beat down upon him 
 on the mountain-side of his bitter experience. 
 
 One evening, as Standish stood in the doorway of his 
 cottage watching the sunset, Ferrari, who was on his way 
 home, stopped in front of him. Seizing his employer's 
 hand, and kneeling down, he looked earnestly upward into 
 the face of the tall mine owner, whose soul shone forth 
 to him as a beacon across stormy seas. 
 
 " Ave Maria," he said fervently, " I finda ze one place, 
 no king, no dama priest. Ah, Stando, ze sweet land of 
 liberty!" and kissing his employer's hand affectionately, 
 he disappeared down the trail.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 In 1893, came the CRASH! 
 
 The Baring failure started it. A few months later, 
 the mints of India discontinued the coinage of silver. 
 The congress of the United States met in special session, 
 seeking the enactment of relief measures. Stagnation in 
 the East, became a panic in the West. By the repeal 
 of the "Sherman Act," silver received what seemed a 
 death blow. At one stroke, its values fell one-half. 
 
 In July, many banks went under thruout the State. 
 The bottom seemed to drop out of everything. Even the 
 owners of Government bonds could not realize on them, 
 such was the extreme trepidation of banking circles in 
 Denver. Nothing talked but cold cash. With it you de 
 fended your holdings. Without it, you went to the wall. 
 
 The first actual touch of the panic felt in Plume, was 
 the sudden shut-down of the great Pay Rock mine. Only 
 the engineers and firemen were retained in order to keep 
 the giant pumps moving. All the miners, muckers, ore 
 sorters, timekeepers, etc., were laid off indefinitely, and 
 with but two exceptions, the other mines in the district 
 followed suit. 
 
 True to his conservative instinct, Thomas Bayard, 
 president of the Sampson-Smith corporation, did not make 
 a complete shut-down of the producing forces of that 
 property, but reduced his force to about one-third the 
 usual number. He intended to keep things moving a 
 little, for perhaps things were not as bad as they seemed. 
 He had weathered some severe financial storms before, 
 and with the property producing a little, it wouldn't be so 
 hard to start up when the storm blew over. Even-tem 
 pered, cool, conservative, Thomas Bayard was a power 
 in Denver. Naturally, a modest, silent man, he spoke only 
 
 139
 
 140 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 upon rare occasions, but when he did speak, his peers 
 listened attentively. 
 
 The ores mined in the Pay Eock district were com 
 posed almost entirely of silver and lead, gold and copper 
 values being more limited. With silver a drug on the 
 market, at one-half its former value, it became a serious 
 question with many of the mines, whose ores were almost 
 exclusively of the white metal, as to whether a ton of ore 
 could possibly be made to pay the expense of mining, 
 milling, transportation, and smelter charges. 
 
 Where a generous profit had been made from the ores 
 produced from the district previous to the panic of 1893, 
 it then became gravely doubtful as to whether the ore 
 would even pay the expense of mining. 
 
 Things had started on the downward grade swiftly. No 
 one dared predict to what level values and credits might 
 eventually sink, the confidence of years was swept away 
 in a single day. The terrible phenomenon of the panic, 
 that of absolute financial terrorism ; whirling, maddened, 
 frenzied, unreasoning, blind stampede, seemed implanted 
 'in every soul. Betraying and exhibiting the same identi 
 cal symptoms and actions, as the same phenomenon does 
 upon -the field of battle, among the flying herds, during a 
 great earthquake, or in a dreadful conflagration. 
 
 The merchants of Plume soon began to feel the strain. 
 How could they extend credit to men, who were not only 
 idle, but who were actually without the slightest prospect 
 of future employment? Mining was the sole industry 
 of the gulch, ore the sole product, and with the shut-down 
 of the mines, production ceased. 
 
 Little groups of miners talked over the situation upon 
 the street corners of the village, and they soon became 
 utterly discouraged with the dark outlook. The papers 
 from Denver were optimistic and hopeful and whoever 
 read a local paper that wasn't but still they kept grimly 
 on recording fresh disasters, bank failures, foreclosures, 
 murders, suicides, robberies, and various other casualties 
 on every side.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 141 
 
 When these same miners went home in the evening, 
 gloomy and despondent, their wives gradually became 
 infected, and the children gazing into the despairing eyes 
 of the parents, also took on the same gaunt worry. Thus 
 the little town was soon in almost as deplorable a condition 
 as if stricken by a plague. 
 
 By the middle of August industry was completely 
 paralyzed, with the exception of the 40 Rounds and the 
 Sampson-Smith, the force of the latter being reduced to 
 a mere skeleton of its former proportions. 
 
 "When would Brown shut down?" was the topic of 
 the whole gulch population. 
 
 Recently he had been known to hold several long con 
 versations with Mr. Howard, of Howard & Co., the largest 
 general dealers in the gulch. Howard in turn had been 
 known to hold several clandestine meetings with the other 
 dealers of the village. 
 
 Colonel Rose came up from Denver, looking deeply de 
 jected and care-worn, and had returned to the city on the 
 next train after a long consultation with Standish. 
 
 It was soon rumored that the C. C. & U. Ry. would 
 abandon its afternoon service to Denver, and a few days 
 later the rumor was confirmed when the service was re 
 duced to one mixed train a day, each way. 
 
 Still the 40 Rounds held out. The force of men work 
 ing in the property were interviewed daily by their more 
 unfortunate brethren. 
 
 "WShat is Mr. Brown going to do? When is he going 
 to shut down?" 
 
 The men of the 40 Rounds could not answer. They, 
 too, were living from day to day in a state of great anxiety. 
 They had expected their discharge every Saturday when 
 they were paid off. But still the event was postponed for 
 some mysterious reason. 
 
 On the first day of September, the following^ printed 
 notice was posted in the various stores and public places 
 of the village:
 
 142 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 MASS MEETING TONIGHT! ! ! 
 
 All citizens of Plume are requested to attend 
 a meeting at the town hall tonight; to discuss 
 ways and means for the relief of our citizens 
 during the present hard times. 
 Signed, 
 
 HOWAKD & CO. 
 
 H. LOBENSTEIN. 
 
 KAUFMAN BROS. 
 
 NELSON & JOHNSON. 
 
 S. LOREE. 
 
 MILLER & SON. 
 
 At this meeting, Standish made the first public speech 
 of his career. He read it from manuscript, and in sub 
 stance as follows : 
 
 "Fellow Citizens of Plume: 
 
 You are perhaps painfully aware of the terrible blow which 
 has befallen our great and only industry. This meeting has been 
 called so that we might discuss the matter seriously and seek 
 some solution of the problems which confront us. The merchants 
 who signed the notice posted today in our village, have reached 
 their limit in extending credit. In fact, they have gone beyond 
 their depth already, as some of them are in a precarious con 
 dition. 
 
 At a meeting held some few days ago by these same gentle 
 men, it was decided, that before they would allow each other to 
 meet financial disaster, one by one, thus visiting a calamity upon 
 their customers as well as upon themselves, they would combine 
 their interests as far as possible, and endeavor to avert a disaster 
 which would surely depopulate our little community. 
 
 Knowing that I have always labored to contribute toward the 
 welfare of Plume and its good citizens, these gentlemen visited 
 me and solicited my assistance. 
 
 In answer to their solicitations, I am pleased to tender, not 
 only to these worthy merchants of ours, but to you, each and 
 every citizen of Plume, the following offer, in connection with 
 which I will make several suggestions, which, if acted upon, I
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 143 
 
 believe will prove highly conducive to our mutual welfare and 
 the village of Plume. 
 
 To begin with, I wish to state that I have absolute faith in the 
 good people of Plume. I have also unshaken faith in the con 
 tinued production and permanency of silver. I intend not only 
 to keep the 40 Rounds going, but in a few days I will start a 
 sufficient force of men, to bring the product of the 40 Rounds up 
 to that of the largest producer of Colorado. This good mine 
 has already piled up a great sum in the way of earnings, and I 
 am willing to spend every dollar of it, if necessary, for the wel 
 fare of the people of this community." 
 
 At this juncture in his remarks, the crowd of idle, de 
 spairing men, set up a great hand-clapping, which reached 
 a cheer, and then burst into a mighty roar. Such words 
 playing upon heavy hearts were truly golden. 
 
 Standish awkwardly bowed his appreciation of the 
 demonstration. It was the proudest moment of his life. 
 He had at last reached a degree of positiveness, of decision, 
 of action. He had actually thought, and better still, he 
 had acted promptly on that thought. Thus at one bound 
 he had sprung from the hesitating, stumbling, uncertain 
 boy, to the thinking, seeing, and instantly acting man. 
 In after years he sought the boy again. All men do. 
 Sometimes they find it. A certain rare, concealed ex 
 uberance of the boy within their mature souls. Some 
 folks call it, "green old age." 
 
 Continuing after the applause ceased, he said : 
 
 " I have already furnished your merchants with sufficient funds 
 to tide them over the present crisis, and they in return, will en 
 deavor to assist you. 
 
 I suggest that you organize a permanent committee represent 
 ing every wage earner in Plume, and try and get in immediate 
 communication with the mine operators who have employed you 
 in the past. If you can not persuade them to renew operations, 
 endeavor to get leaseholds from them, and in the event you are 
 successful, it will afford you steady employment, for I will see 
 to it that you get the necessary supplies, and will guarantee you 
 the sale of every dollar's worth of ore you can produce.
 
 144 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Incidentally I shall want, on Monday next, fifty men to begin 
 the proposed greater development of the 40 Rounds, and I sug 
 gest that you decide among yourselves, upon those men who should 
 have the first chance at this work. Act together, my friends, for 
 the best interest of all, and believe me, your merchant friends and 
 I, will endeavor to assist every one of you to tide over the hard 
 times." 
 
 As he ceased speaking, a great buzz of excitement sprang 
 up, the men immediately effecting a permanent organiza 
 tion. In a few moments they had elected a committee, 
 and their spokesman announced, that in a few days the 
 committee would wait upon Mr. Brown and the merchants 
 of Plume with further details, and also that by Monday 
 morning, the fifty men would be chosen to begin the 
 proposed work in the 40 Rounds. 
 
 Standish went to bed very happy that night. He felt 
 that he had really accomplished something, actually feel 
 ing of use in the world. He also became seriously con 
 scious for the first time in his life of that magic element 
 known as POWER. 
 
 He mused long over the chain of thought which had 
 led him to the relief of his fellow men. 
 
 Yes, he had really thought. 
 
 Even better, he had displayed decision and courage. 
 For the Colonel had stoutly demurred at the bold line of 
 action as proposed by his principal. This bold line of 
 relief was started solely upon Standish's own original 
 ideas. His thought had at last culminated, had decided, 
 had insisted, he was a man of action at last. 
 
 And from that day, Standish Brown not only became 
 a force, an important factor, a man to be reckoned with, 
 in his own community, but in the whole State of Colorado, 
 as well.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Early in the summer of 1898, Standish sat one evening 
 in the doorway of his cottage, with Billy in his lap, pick 
 ing peanuts out of his pockets. Breaking them, the 
 animal would eat the meats, and drop the shells mis 
 chievously into Shep's face, who laid at his master's feet. 
 
 The breeze blew warm and balmy thru the gulch, com 
 ing from Utah, laden with the scent of the resinous coni 
 fers. The new moon was rising, young and slender, its 
 dainty crescent seeming to rock cradle-like on the crest 
 of the foothills, as it first peeped into the gulch. 
 
 _ The lights of Plume were twinkling far down at Stan- 
 dish's feet. Devoted hamlet, child of his brave protection 
 these past few years, and whose citizens were once more 
 fully employed and prospering. Its merchants had freed 
 themselves from their financial obligations. The mines 
 had nearly all started up again, and he was freed from 
 the heavy obligations of the hard-times period which 
 marked the decline of silver. 
 
 He had lost thousands of dollars. Yet he had made 
 them all back again. Scores of ingrates had stung his 
 honest heart, 'but hundreds of the truly appreciative acts 
 of others had healed those stings. The balance of efforts 
 and results had been struck at last, the great panic of '93 
 was a thing of the past ; and he had emerged from those 
 long years of care and toil, hopefully and thankfully, 
 with the Future, unknown, mystical, swinging wide its 
 gates into the untold years. 
 
 Standish had ever maintained the serious conscientious 
 ness of his youth. He invariably subordinated Self to 
 the Idea. Imbued with the Cause, he cleaved his way 
 to the desired Effect. 
 
 A high thought, once given birth in his soul, sprang 
 bravely into action. To a promise he was sure to render 
 an exact fulfilment, 
 
 145
 
 146 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 As he sat there thus, enjoying the rare beauty of the 
 summer night, he constantly turned his gaze toward a 
 light far down the trail, shining thru the window of a 
 tiny cottage across the creek, whose rushing waters re 
 flected its cheery beam. 
 
 Fiorina lived there. That dainty little wanderer from 
 distant Italy, that rare, sweet bird of passage, who had 
 gradually crept into his hungry heart thru the long lonely 
 years. Her bright sunshine and childish gayety had often 
 been the light that had kept him at his work. 
 
 But alas! A great change was taking place within him 
 as to his relations with the beautiful Italian maid. 
 
 Formerly, he had viewed her as the laughing child. 
 They had chatted, laughed, sang, embraced, and ran over 
 the hills together, free happy children of joy and in 
 nocence. 
 
 Innocence, caressing innocence. Purity, embracing 
 purity. 
 
 But of late, there was a peculiar something crowding 
 out the innocent one. He could no longer look into 
 her ingenuous eyes, and smile back the answering beam 
 of innocence. His once honest eyes had become desiring, 
 and his thought, once so pure and noble in her presence, 
 had become lustfully calculative. Some terrible inhabi 
 tant of his soul was seeking to gorge itself upon her 
 rare charms. A fearful shadow was slowly falling upon 
 his once white soul. 
 
 He had felt it first on that fatal day he had suddenly 
 discovered that the laughing child, Fiorina, had become 
 a woman. It was a great shock to him, likewise a great 
 revelation. Fiorina had apparently not realized it herself. 
 She still came to him with all the innocent joyousness 
 of maidenhood. She still leaped into his lap, kissed his 
 face, and skipped away delighted with the sweetmeat, 
 the book, or the magazine which he invariably gave. But 
 Standish could not distinguish her as clearly as of yore. 
 
 Something SOMETHING, was coming between them, 
 intangible, unexplainable, terrible. 
 
 He could not as yet distinguish its outline, its shape,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 147 
 
 its form. But it was certainly an evil object, terrifying, 
 forbidding. 
 
 Yes, there it was leering into his soul even now as his 
 eyes looked down the gulch at the light shining from 
 Fiorina's window. 
 
 But no, it did not leer. 
 
 It was not a form, it was only a shadow. 
 
 Yes; only a shadow. 
 
 Only a mere vapory, harmless fleck of shade. 
 
 A SHADOW! 
 
 What is a shadow? 
 
 It is that shade or darkness formed by a body which 
 intercepts rays of light. 
 
 DARKNESS ! BODY I LIGHT ! ! 
 
 Feeling the gloom, coming into the shade and enter 
 ing the shadow, we naturally look about to see this body, 
 this form, this object which casts us in this shroud of 
 gloom. 
 
 We rest in the shade of the stately oak. We recline 
 beneath the shadow of the leafy elm. We experience the 
 cool shadow of a cloud, which passes between us and the 
 hot, scorching sun of August. 
 
 All these are shadows. 
 
 Bodies getting between us and the light, and putting 
 us in the shade. We fall under and feel these cool 
 shadows. 
 
 All the above are pleasant shadows. They soothe, pro 
 tect, caress, and we are grateful. 
 
 Then we have the terrifying, the death shadows. 
 
 The plague, ravaging Asia, casting its awful shadow over 
 trembling Europe. 
 
 The fearful shadow of War, cast by a cannon shot boom 
 ing across the Rhine, the fatal forerunner of bloody bat 
 tles and seiges. 
 
 The appalling shadow of Famine in India, caused by 
 long seasons of drought, foretelling the death of hun 
 dreds of thousands, who will die by slow starvation. 
 
 These fearful shadows menace nations, species, whole 
 races and peoples, with death and annihilation.
 
 148 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Then we have the shadows which menace the peace of 
 the Individual only. 
 
 Soul shadows. 
 
 Thought monsters, casting long black shadows upon 
 white souls. 
 
 The shadow of Drink, forecasting the drunkard, per 
 haps the suicide and murderer. The shadow of Jealousy, 
 hiding in its green folds of venom, slander and destruc 
 tion. The shadow of Mammon, instilling Avarice, the 
 miser. 
 
 These are the dark shadows of our souls, which some 
 times cast in deep and melancholy gloom, the brightest 
 and happiest individuals. They are caused by monsters 
 who stand between us and the light. When once we fall 
 under the shadow of either Drink, Jealousy, Mammon, 
 Lust, Avarice, or any other of the hideous denizens of our 
 souls, our only hope is giving battle. 
 
 We must fight, clinch, scratch, bite, chew, roll des 
 perately in the dust, deliver and receive tremendous 
 blows, and struggle on undaunted with fervent prayers 
 to God and the angels upon our lips ; to overcome in every 
 way the hideous shape whkh has cast us in the gloom 
 and shut out the light of Purity and Peace. Only by 
 overcoming these monsters in desperate mortal combat, 
 can we hope to emerge once more into the glad light of 
 day, into the realms of the pure unsullied Conscience; 
 under the celestial effulgent beams of Divinity. 
 
 Only when we stand triumphant over the bloody corpse 
 of the monster that has threatened us, can we look into 
 the eyes of God and smile heavenward the sign of peace. 
 
 When you have removed the form, the body of the 
 monster, you have removed the cause of the shadow. It 
 is no longer there. You have emerged into the full light. 
 The light falls upon you unbroken. You again inhale 
 the sweet, fragrant breath of Innocence. 
 
 Standish was in the darkness of a gre"at shadow. It 
 would remain until he removed the cause. It would re 
 main until he had slain the monster. If the monster 
 conquered, his soul was doomed.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 149 
 
 Rising to his feet with a deep sigh, he entered the cot 
 tage and lighted the lamp. Billy and Shep followed him. 
 The faithful animals each sought their quarters, and 
 their master undressed and went to bed. 
 
 Almost immediately after he fell asleep, he woke 
 with a start. A horrible shape had reached out to seize 
 him as he lay there. 
 
 A cold sweat dampened his fevered brow. 
 
 "Good God! What was it?" 
 
 " Bah ! It was only a shadow." 
 
 Yes, ONLY A SHADOW!
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Down -by the creek, Fiorina was sitting upon a huge 
 boulder watching the reflection of the moonlight in the 
 tumbling waters of the stream. 
 
 She was nearly eighteen years old, and had become a 
 woman. 
 
 More, she was a most beautiful woman. 
 
 Beauty, perfect beauty? 
 
 How often among the thousands of women we meet, 
 do we find a woman whom Nature proclaims physically 
 perfect? There is only one perhaps, among thousands 
 of fair w r omen, who obtains the certificate of perfect beauty. 
 One may have a perfect face, another a perfect hand; 
 others, a graceful neck, a divinely arched instep, a lan 
 guishing eye, a superbly moulded bust, a model waist, 
 or exquisitely curved hips ; but only one, among thousands 
 of fair women, possesses all or most of these requisites 
 of feminine "beauty. 
 
 Fiorina was almost perfect. 
 
 She was possessed of an exquisite standard and type of 
 beauty, and could easily qualify, with the single exception 
 of height. She was rather diminutive, short in stature. 
 In all other respects however, Nature had apparently 
 stamped her perfect. 
 
 If she had suddenly been changed from living pulsa 
 ting flesh, into marble ; and exhibited in some temple of 
 art, connoisseurs \vould have raved. 
 
 If Phidias had beheld her, he would have passionately 
 sighed for a block of ivory, to carve in imperishable out 
 line her ravishing form and beautiful face. To place 
 her exquisitely rounded figure superbly poised as a 
 nymph, in the mouth of a vast pink throated shell. 
 
 And illuminating this budded physique, was a most 
 dainty soul, containing a shining winged spirit. A heaven 
 fed lamp. 
 
 151
 
 152 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Not mind. Not intellect. Nor calculation. Nor reason. 
 Naught, but just pure unadulterated spirit, beaming forth 
 spontaneously, as a golden sun thru passing clouds ; rising 
 and falling, dipping and soaring, like a swift flying bird 
 fluttering joyously in the summer sky, filling the azure 
 with beatific song. 
 
 And this innocent creature of effervescent spirit and 
 rare physical charms, possessed but one supreme passion. 
 
 One, that was all. It was life, death ; laughter and tears ; 
 man ajmost God. 
 
 It was her love for Standish Brown. 
 
 The seven years of her acquaintance with him, had de 
 veloped a mighty passion in the heart of this flower of 
 Naples. But it was a wholly innocent, trusting, divine 
 passion. A thirsting Madonna passion, which charges 
 every atom of a maiden's personality with the fever of 
 woman's desire and love. 
 
 This man was a part of her girlhood. He had given 
 her the first joy she had ever known in this great America. 
 He had been kind to her darling grandfather, and had 
 given him work and employment. Her conception of 
 God almost rested in him. Did not a divine light beam 
 from his eyes, when he told her wondrous stories? Had 
 she not felt safe from all harm when she had snuggled 
 up to his great protecting breast in the days of her child 
 hood? There where the bleak winter wind howled dis 
 mally outside the cottage, where she had waited for her 
 grandfather to come out of the mine to take him home to 
 supper and rest. Yes, Ave Maria, this tall, noble moun 
 taineer was everything to her. He was her all. The ONE. 
 
 There are two things in the world, which are acknowl 
 edged by all, as being absolutely perfect. That is, per 
 fect in every action; under every condition, absolutely 
 flawless at all times and in all places. 
 
 CLOUDS and DREAMS. 
 
 Can anyone imagine an imperfect cloud? If so, by 
 what standard? By whose authority? Where is found 
 registered the standard of cloud bulk? Its form classi 
 fied? Its movement regulated? Its color decreed?
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 153 
 
 As it lies there glorious in the west, Queen of Caprice 
 and Fancy, with the beams of the setting sun dyeing its 
 snowy fleece with a thousand changing colors; its beau 
 tiful form contracting, expanding, spreading, towering, 
 it absolutely defies criticism. Its own sweet pleasure, de 
 creed by eternal Nature, exultingly proclaims its perfec 
 tion ; and it triumphantly rides the skies, a thing of peer 
 less perfect beauty. 
 
 And so with DREAMS. 
 
 They flash their phenomena upon our enchanted un 
 resisting vision. They horrify us, they delight us. From 
 some we shrink in wildest terror; others we reach out 
 to madly embrace, and wish in that divine intoxication, 
 that we might never waken. And thus, as with the pass 
 ing cloud, the form, the movement, the emotion, the color 
 of a dream, defies the register of man's most delicate in 
 strument. They defy e'en his subtlest senses. They 
 laugh in his face. They terrify him, they charm. They 
 declare themselves perfect, and they are. 
 
 And so Fiorina dreamed as she sat there in the moon 
 light, and they were happy dreams. Sweet votaries wait 
 ing upon innocent, expectant maidenhood. Sometime 
 and somewhere, he would speak to her. He would tell 
 her of his love for her. She would enter into his broad 
 ocean of life as a sparkling brook. She would live with 
 him, and Billy, and Shep, and grandfather Ferrari, in 
 a fine new cottage on the hill, and they would all be so 
 happy together. 
 
 The young moon rose higher in the sky as she sat 
 there, the stars were swinging high up in the milky 
 way, and last and best of all, HIS light, shining from 
 the cottage window, shone far up to where the trail was 
 lost in the mighty shadow of the Everlasting Hills.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Flesh is sweet. 
 
 It has warmth and juices. 
 
 It has the rich scent and odor of sex. 
 
 It is the living, quivering, desiring, cushioned fibre of 
 the sensual world. 
 
 Feed a thought with flesh, and you create a carnal 
 PASSION. 
 
 When you admit a carnal Passion to your soul, you 
 menace Love. 
 
 Then, BEWARE! 
 
 Love is the guardian of Purity. Passion is the shadow 
 of the Beast. Love and Passion can not exist in peace 
 within the soul. One or the other will triumph in a 
 deadly contest. If Passion triumphs, beware. Passion is 
 the shadow of the Beast. 
 
 The eternal BEAST? 
 
 The awful dog which fills the Theatre of the Soul with 
 hideous bayings and dreadful leaps. 
 
 Was there ever a true complete man who has not felt 
 like a low, whipped cur, in the leash and company of this 
 hideous dog of the soul? 
 
 When we turn to the fountain heads of experience and 
 history we feel that such is the truth. 
 
 Turn to the recital of the glorious race that produced 
 the matchless art of Phidias. 
 
 Behold the glory of the Greeks. 
 
 The mighty Spartans, the proud Athenians, the grace 
 ful Cretans. That fair Greece, immortal realm, in which 
 man believed himself akin to the gods. 
 
 Their poets, from the venerable Homer to the charm 
 ing Sappho, reveal the handsome structure of their soul 
 theatre and its glorious players; yet between the lines 
 and behind the scenes, we observe the Beast, lustful, de 
 siring, unholy, obtaining his fill. 
 
 155
 
 156 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Adonis, ravished upon the burning breast of Venus. 
 Helen, struggling vainly in the fevered clasp of Paris. 
 Sappho, wrapped in the amorous arms of Phaon. 
 
 In the imperial theatre of the Romans, the Beast at 
 tains gigantic and frightful proportions. The whole world 
 is sacked to feed its maw. 
 
 Caligua, Antonita, the monstrous consort of Belisarius. 
 And over the naked throng of Bronzebeard and the shriek 
 ing virgins, drop red roses, one by one, smothering the 
 despairing voice and shrinking form of Chastity, with 
 the crimson gore of Sensuality. It is with horror we be 
 hold the outermost confines of the western world explored 
 in the desiring reach of Roman lust. Quivering and 
 shrinking innocence plucked and ravished from Britain's 
 misty isle to the voluptuous bowers of Persia. All, all, 
 to feed the maw of human lust. 
 
 As we turn to the later Romans, the noble Italians who 
 gave us the peerless art of Michael Angelo, Raphael, Cor- 
 reggio. Here again, is the magnificent playhouse of the 
 soul, filled with the lecherous stalkings of the untamed 
 Beast. Vast orgies, debauches, held in palaces of incom 
 parable art, and ending only with utter satiation. 
 
 Advancing to England, to the reign of the Tudors, we 
 behold the infamous Henry VIII, reeking in a foul and 
 colossal bed of unholy amours. 
 
 In France, we see the corrupted effeminate court of 
 Louis LeGrand. Great monarchs and princes, wallowing 
 in the arms of painted, decaying Pompadours. Oh, this 
 vile Beast, lapping up the vitals of kings. 
 
 Turning even to the Puritan, that abstemious, per 
 secuted, indomitable religious fanatic, who swept thru 
 England like a wall of flame; we find the Beast even in 
 him, in the prim severe theatre of his soul, hiding covertly 
 behind the curtain of Prudery, with its deep insistent 
 bayings, wild scratching of claws, and the fierce straining 
 of its leash, as it boldly endeavors to leap upon the stage. 
 
 The grim visages of the early New Englanders pre 
 tended to scorn the Beast, and they tried to hide it, to 
 conceal and deny it; but in vain, their ministers confess 
 ing their liaisons in the public square, and the scarlet
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 157 
 
 letter 'being sewn upon the white bosoms of their con 
 sorts. 
 
 Thus thru all history the Beast is fed. 
 
 The hideous Beast. 
 
 LUST! 
 
 Standish passed a terrible night. 
 
 Of late, as Fiorina had embraced him, or thrust her 
 scarlet lips up to him to be kissed, he felt an unholy in 
 toxication as he pressed her form or felt the warm breath 
 of her kisses. He felt his bright soul crossed by a mighty 
 shadow, a dreadful shade, casting a terrifying chill over 
 his conscience. But this shade, this wild passion to 
 which he was slowly succumbing, was merely the dread 
 shadow cast by the form of the great Beast itself. 
 
 He was no longer his old manly self. Gradually, thru 
 the terrible blackness of his passion, he could feel a hot 
 breath, dimly discern a monstrous claw suddenly thrust 
 thru the shadow, and hear a horible distant bellowing. 
 
 He became terrified. He shook as with the ague. Sum 
 moning his religious forces he tried to pray it away, but 
 in vain. His better nature had been completely suffo 
 cated by his unholy desires. 
 
 Suddenly the dense, black gloom of the Shadow dis 
 appeared, swallowed up in a roaring mass of lurid crack 
 ling flames which lighted up the theatre of his soul with 
 the flaming terrors of a great conflagration. Cowering 
 in the red blistering glow, he looked about him as a 
 wounded gladiator in an amphitheatre, fairly screaming 
 with terror at the awful spectacle which confronted him. 
 
 He was facing the Beast at last. 
 
 Then began a mortal combat with one of the most ter 
 rible creatures of the soul, and one which up to the last 
 few weeks, he had never dreamed as existing therein. 
 
 But there was no time for thought, for with a hideous 
 bellow the monster sprang upon him. And there in the 
 red light of sensuality he fought one of the most desper 
 ate battles of his life. He clawed its face, dug at its eyes, 
 smote it with mighty blows upon its crab-like beak, but 
 all without avail, the monster was slowly crushing him.
 
 Of late, at each visit of Fiorina, it had grown more ra 
 pacious, more implacable. It leaped exultantly as Stan- 
 dish touched the warm pulsating hands or sweet red lips 
 of the innocent maid. But with all her chaste innocence, 
 Fiorina appeared within his soul that night as a terrible 
 temptress. In the past few weeks, as she had come to 
 him with her merry eyes and trusting smile, he had al 
 most succumbed to the strength of the Beast and licked 
 up the fair innocent creature with his unholy lust. But 
 somehow, and in some manner, he had been spared the 
 awful crime. But how long could he resist her charms, 
 with this devouring mobster tearing at his vitals, weak 
 ening him more and more? 
 
 Thus hour after hour of the long night ebbed slowly 
 away. At the first cock crow he was still awake, with his 
 great blue eyes staring glassily from the torment in his 
 soul. Then the first gray tints of the morning came dimly 
 thru the windows, but still the battle raged. He con 
 fessed himself too weak to again meet Fiorina under the 
 usual conditions. He must, under no circumstances, allow 
 her to kiss or embrace him. No, she must stay away, 
 and let him slay this hideous monster which had en 
 veloped him in its deadly toils. 
 
 Soon the sunbeams danced thru the window, and Shep 
 and Billy were whining to get out doors. He raised him 
 self up in bed and peered out. Yes, it was the morning 
 of a glorious day. He would go into the hills, among 
 the solitary defiles of the mountains; and there, alone, 
 he would stifle this terrible Beast, and throw its fearful 
 smothering form, crashing over the loftiest precipice of 
 his soul. Then he would be gloriously free, and Love, 
 gentle divine Love, would shine in his soul once more, 
 and under its guiding star he would return and woo and 
 wed the beautiful Fiorina, chaste and ennobled with 
 Purity. 
 
 As he laid there in his bed, exhausted, his form trem 
 bling from the effects of his all-night battle with the 
 Beast, he heard a light footstep outside the cottage door. 
 
 It was Fiorina. 
 
 She had come tripping up the trail, radiant in -the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 159 
 
 morning sunlight, escorting her grandfather to his work. 
 As they passed the cottage, she looked shyly at the door 
 which was closed. They went up to the mouth of the 
 tunnel, and kissing the old man good-bye, she retraced 
 her footsteps to the cottage. 
 
 No one visible. Strange! Standish should have been 
 up long ago. Surely there must be some sign of life 
 about the place. Billy, Shep, where were they? 
 
 She would knock. 
 
 Clenching her beautiful dimpled hand, she rapped 
 sharply upon the door with the air and confidence of a 
 privileged person. No answer, however, save a sharp bark 
 from Shep, and a joyful chatter from Billy. She un 
 derstood then. Standish had undoubtedly gone out, 
 either to the mine or to town, and had forgotten to re 
 lease his pets. 
 
 Thus assured, she opened the door and stepped inside, 
 the two animals dancing with delight at the sight of her, 
 and stooping down she caressed them. Shep was so rough 
 in his play, that he almost broke the pretty gold chain 
 which hung over her scarlet bodice. 
 
 My I The brilliant colors of this mountain maid's cos 
 tume this fair morning. 
 
 A short brown skirt, scarlet bodice, black velvet jacket, 
 a dainty broad white linen collar, black stockings, and 
 neat high heeled boots. 
 
 Oh, vanity, vanity, little Fiorina; altho if you are 
 seeking a certain man's heart, who could blame you? 
 
 With her luxuriant brown hair, which shone like satin 
 when the sun fell upon it, her pearly white teeth and 
 scarlet lips, and her soft olive complexion tinged gorge 
 ously with bright carmine, she was certainly the embod 
 iment of beautiful healthful womanhood. 
 
 Hearing a creaking sound, she looked up, and to her 
 great amazement she saw Standish lying in bed. She 
 had not dreamed that he would be in bed at this late 
 hour. And greatly embarrassed, she stood there confused 
 and blushing furiously at her mistake in entering thus. 
 What would he think of her? 
 
 Standish half raised himself on his pillow. The ex-
 
 160 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 pression upon his face was ghastly. He looked like a 
 madman. 
 
 Pointing with his finger at the trembling girl, he 
 screamed out in fearful tones, "Youl You! You foul 
 temptress! Go! Leave!" 
 
 Retiring toward the door, the distracted woman was 
 completely overwhelmed with doubt and shame, and she 
 stood there shaking and trembling with horror. 
 
 "Go! Go, I say, you foul fiend ! Leave me! Go!" he 
 shrieked again. 
 
 After standing transfixed upon the threshold for one 
 awful moment, Fiorina uttered a cry of horror, and rush 
 ing down the trail wringing her hands in the most ex 
 cruciating agony, she was nearly home before she began 
 to realize the dreadful calamity which had befallen her. 
 
 " Sweet Jesu," she moaned, kneeling before a tiny por 
 celain image of the Saviour, "What it all mean? Oh! 
 Sweet Jesu! My Stando is mad, mad!" 
 
 Slowly the strangeness and the horror of it grew upon 
 her, and going to the door she locked it, as if to shut out 
 the sight of her maddened lover, her eyes streaming with 
 tears as she did so, and then flinging herself upon her 
 little bed she laid for hours sobbing upon the pillow.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Standish had always loved solitude. The many 
 years which his father and he had occupied their 
 cottage remote from other habitations had fixed upon 
 him many habits of a solitary. In the winter time, 
 with the howling blizzards outside fiercely shaking the 
 cottage windows, he would sit before the fire and meditate 
 for hours. Lying upon his bed he would look into the 
 infinite and dream. In the summer, walking in the moon 
 light under the green arches of the pines among the 
 dark defiles of the mountains, he would look up at the 
 stars, and his thought would soar toward the uttermost 
 realms of the universe. 
 
 Solitude is the shore-line of the Infinite. 
 
 The Infinite is that boundless ocean of Mind which 
 beats within the soul. 
 
 Solitude does not necessarily mean that an individual 
 must dwell alone upon some deserted isle of the sea, 
 some secluded nook among the mountains, or some spot 
 entirely removed from humanity. It simply demands 
 but one great essential condition, viz., to be alone with 
 thought. 
 
 Victor Hugo was almost as great a solitary in gay 
 Paris in the midst of a teeming population and a host 
 of admiring friends as he was in his lonely eyrie on the 
 heights of Guernsey, surrounded only by a tumbling 
 ocean lashed to fury by the howling' gales of the North 
 Sea. In either spot, monarch of mind, he could for 
 get the world, and be alone with thought. 
 
 It was thus with the zodiacal, heaven-searching George 
 Eliot. "For I am still a solitary, tho near a city. But 
 we have the Universe to talk with, infinity in which to 
 stretch the gaze of Hope, and an all-bountiful, all-wise 
 Creator in whom to confide." 
 
 161
 
 1<62 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 But by far the greater number of the devotees of Sol 
 itude, lack this masterful navigation of Mind. They are 
 forced to seek the quiet retreat of lonely and unfrequented 
 spots, they require absolute quiet and stillness. Then 
 only can they project their frail thought crafts upon the 
 vast seas of the Infinite. Only when their supersensi- 
 tive physiques are freed from the toils of their kind, can 
 their airy thought wing its way into the distant realms 
 of the mind. 
 
 Thus outside the walls of Frankfort, the erratic Goethe 
 sought to curb his restless spirit in the quiet solitudes of 
 the wind-kissed groves. 
 
 Into the leafy solitudes of the deep New England for 
 est, the heaven-visioned Emerson was invited by that 
 inspiring old aunt of his, writing from her home upon 
 the storm-swept coast of Maine. 
 
 Alone, upon the lonely moors of Scotland, the rugged 
 Carlyle prayed in solitude for strength and patience to 
 penetrate and illume the thick skull of stout John Bull 
 with new thoughts and progressive ideas. 
 
 In the navigation of this boundless sea of the infinite 
 Mind, Life, is the ship, the craft. 
 
 Inspiration is the wind which fills the sails. 
 
 Thoughts are the crew. 
 
 Genius, the intrepid navigator. 
 
 And the Individual consciousness, the passenger. 
 
 You are afloat upon an unknown sea. The pressure 
 of the human crowd, yet still your brothers, is far re 
 moved. You float buoyantly upon the bosom of a mighty 
 deep. 
 
 The progress of the human race has always been meas 
 ured by man's exploration of the infinite Mind. 
 
 Embarking from the shore-line of Solitude out upon 
 the boundless abysmal ocean of the Infinite, Genius has 
 ever bravely voyaged; and as often returned with rich 
 cargoes of imperishable wealth, to swell the treasuries of 
 human knowledge.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 163 
 
 The infinite Mind, that boundless ocean which beats 
 within the soul. 
 
 From out these vasty seas came Galileo, hiding within 
 his bosom the discovery of the rotundity of the earth. 
 And even as he denied the possession of his treasure to 
 the fathers of the church, it sprang from out his vitals, 
 and leaped naked and exultant into the world, shouting 
 its glad cry from the mountain tops. 
 
 From hence emerged the laborious Newton, after a 
 voyage of fearful peril. Yea! Even to the verge of in 
 sanity did he heroically toil and drift over unknown 
 seas; but at last he came, bearing in his arms an appall 
 ing and wonderful monster of the Infinite. All drip 
 ping and gasping, snared from its deep ocean lair in this 
 mighty sea of the Infinite THE LAW OF GRAVITA 
 TION! Men bowed down before the genius of Newton. 
 They will lay wreaths upon the grave of this great Eng 
 lishman, as long as his island bears roses upon its bosom. 
 
 Darting across the surface of this mysterious ocean of 
 Mind, danced the immortal Shelley, scattering wondrous 
 soul flowers, gathered up as Mercury wings, from distant 
 tropics of the Infinite. Generously he tossed the fragrant 
 blossoms into the eager hands outstretched to grasp them. 
 Those wondrous gems of poesy will bloom forever in the 
 gardens of Art. And just as lightly as this divine child 
 tossed his rare flowers to the delighted throng, he danced 
 out again upon the wild salt waves of Mystery, and was 
 lost forever more. 
 
 From the skies which overhang this wondrous ocean, 
 leaped Rabelais, clothed in the fire of heaven, leaping 
 athwart the world of letters, as lightning darts its livid 
 tongue from the black and inky cloud. Terrible rolled 
 he, amid the clash and roar of battling elements, spout 
 ing satire and eloquence for a brief moment, and then 
 was lost to view speeding down the dizzy slopes of all 
 swallowing Eternity. 
 
 From the midst of this tumbling ocean thundered 
 Hugo. Riding far out upon the bosom of the deep, cling 
 ing to the white mane of its high reared billows, he rode
 
 the storm and sounded his hoarse bass trumpet of Hu 
 manity. Deep and awe inspiring it sounded, distinct and 
 thunder-toned above the roar of the shrieking tempest. 
 King of the storm ! Master of the elements ! He sounded 
 the slogan of Universalism, to reverberate forever and 
 ever in the souls of men, and with the last triumphant 
 blast, he too sank beneath the foam-flecked waves. 
 
 Hush! 
 
 "A sail! A sail!" cries the watchman. 
 
 From out the bosom of the rolling Infinite, comes Jesus 
 of Nazareth. Holy. Immaculate. Divine. Rebuking .the 
 fierce hissing tongues of the angry wave demons, he smiles 
 in the face of the tempest ; walking serenely, beaming cel 
 estial light, conquering the darkness. Lifting a hand, he 
 parts the clouds. The heavens open, and from the Realms 
 of Light, springs forth a glorious dove, white as the soul 
 of God. Darting down from Paradise, it drops a won 
 drous flower among the waiting throng and vanishes. 
 
 A cross then emerges from this wondrous Infinite, 
 bearing upon it the blessed form of the Holy One. Then 
 the great Master is swallowed up in the folds of eternal 
 night ; but the cross still remains, .fixed forever on Calvary. 
 
 Men of Earth, standing spellbound upon the shores 
 of the Infinite, rub their eyes, dazed and confounded by 
 the spectacle. 
 
 Do they dream? 
 
 No! 
 
 Here is the flower dropped by the dove. It is a real, 
 imperishable, sacred token. 
 
 Here is the blood-stained cross, the supreme witness. 
 
 The flower is Faith. ' 
 
 The cross, bears witness to the Martyr. 
 
 It is the covenant of Christian Israel with the Father, 
 the supreme sacrifice of the Son, the token of the Holy 
 Ghost, washed in the blood of the Lamb. 
 
 And again in the ages to come, some intrepid traveler 
 of the Infinite will some day actually reach the Throne 
 of Grace, where sits the Father, and upon His right 
 hand, the immaculate Son. And as a great swan, a con 
 quering Lohengrin, this brave and thrice blessed naviga-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 165 
 
 tor will return to the waiting races, giving his glorious 
 message to mankind, and that revelation too, will further 
 illume the world, close heralding an eternal day. 
 
 Ah, Genius! 
 
 Brave intrepid navigator of infinite seas. Speed! Oh, 
 speed, in thy search for the Holy Grail. For God. For 
 Jehovah and the Angels. For him of whom Judah's 
 prophet sang: 
 
 "Thou hast made us for Thyself, and our hearts are 
 restless till they rest in Thee."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The evening of the day that Fiorina was driven from 
 the cottage of Standish Brown, the figure of a man could 
 be seen climbing and descending the mountains in the 
 dim ghostly light of the moon. As he emerged from one 
 group of pines to another, traversing the open stretches 
 of the solitudes, his face shone in the moonlight, and in 
 spite of the unnatural agonized look upon the features, 
 the countenance of Standish Brown could be recognized. 
 
 All day he had traveled thus, miles upon miles, fiercely 
 climbing the mountains and impetuously rushing down 
 their slopes, with the tireless and superhuman strength of 
 a mad man. If observed closely, it could be seen that 
 his eyes were expressionless. His teeth tightly set. His 
 jaws rigid. And he walked without turning to the right 
 or left. Evidently he was entirely blind to the dangers, 
 the distance, the terrible labors of the journey. He did 
 not avoid rocks or streams, but rushed over or thru them. 
 His hat was gone. His clothes were wet, soiled, and torn. 
 And completely oblivious of the outer world, it was evi 
 dent that his vision was turned inward upon himself. 
 He was lost to the material world, the world of men ; and 
 was held spellbound, in the play of an absorbing drama 
 which filled his soul. 
 
 A Soul. 
 
 What? 
 
 A SOUL! 
 
 That infinite quantity, over which all the vast eons of 
 man's most supreme thoughts, have pondered, and sighed, 
 and died. 
 
 A Soul? 
 
 Yes. 
 
 A Universe wrapped up in a skull. 
 
 Yea! 
 
 That infinitesimal latent atom of a human egg, itself no 
 
 167
 
 168 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 bigger than a pin point, which, hatched within the womb 
 of woman, becomes the torch of a great man's intellect. 
 
 The gateway to the Most High. 
 
 The most sublime theatre of all the world. 
 
 The wonderful playhouse of thoughts. 
 
 The stage where glittering Genius treads the mill oi 
 human life. 
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE! 
 
 Yea ! Supremely appallingly terrible, in its vast array 
 of thought monsters ; with Jealousy, Avarice, Incest, Mur 
 der, Lust, Hypocrisy, and countless other demons of 
 smothering darkness, howling and gnawing in the black 
 caves of Sin. 
 
 And most supernally, dazzlingly terrible, too, in the 
 sublimity of its lustrous, divine, ethereal, God-like beings ; 
 Love, Purity, Virtue, Martyrdom, Innocence, Justice, Sac 
 rifice, and all the other unnumbered winged beings of ce 
 lestial attributes. 
 
 Here dwells the thought of Maternity, Motherhood. 
 
 The child, happy and frolicing. In long baby dresses, 
 in kilts, in real boy's clothes. Aye, the full stature of the 
 man, walking more real than flesh, upon the stage of the 
 mother's soul; while the babe itself, as yet unborn to the 
 world, still sleeps within her womb. 
 
 Here dwells Ambition, the god of the statesman, the 
 magnate, the priest. 
 
 As the dreaming boy walks beside the stream and 
 looks up at the stars, a wonderful thought drama sweeps 
 resistless thru his soul in the flight of one mere hour, the 
 outward rendition of which, requiring an entire life 
 time of rich triumphant years. 
 
 Chauncey Depew, as a boy looked into his soul, and be 
 held himself a member of the United States Senate. After 
 ward, it took many years of continuous preparation, for 
 him to actually materialize that thought. 
 
 John D. Rockefeller, when a mere child, dreamed of 
 owning railroads, steamship lines. Today, after a life 
 time of effort, he has moulded that dream into a material 
 fact, 
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE !
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 169 
 
 Ye gods of the sublime ancients! What other to com 
 pare with it for regal magnificence? 
 
 The student of history, snuggled up in a cozy corner 
 by the fire, reads in his morning paper of an event. Say, 
 for instance, the revival of the tragedy of " Julius Caesar," 
 by the great actor, Richard Mansfield, during the notable 
 theatrical season of 1902-3. 
 
 In a second's flash, the student beholds the great 
 Caesar, the grim conqueror of Gaul, the flushed victor of 
 Pharsalia, the undisputed monarch of the western world. 
 
 At the same moment the student also comprehends the 
 sublime words of Shakespeare, the entire matchless flow 
 of this great classic of the drama. 
 
 And simultaneous with the above, he seees the worthy 
 Mansfield himself, recalling the struggle of his earlier 
 career, his magnificent production of " Cyrano De Ber- 
 gerac," revivial of " Lear," etc. etc. 
 
 Also, he instantly remembers the actor's worthy man 
 ager, Lyman Glover, incidentally recalling splendid crit 
 icisms written by Mr. Glover, in his former capacity as 
 dramatic editor of the Record-Herald. 
 
 In fact, the mere catching of the student's eyes, of a 
 newspaper paragraph consisting of perhaps a dozen lines 
 often a mere word suffices furnishes in less time than 
 one stroke of the hour, a soul drama so vast that many 
 men writing for many years, could not begin to describe. 
 
 Yea! 
 
 Stop! Comprehend, dear reader. 
 
 But summon in your own wondrous soul, the home of 
 your childhood. 
 
 Ah ! Here it comes on the instant. 
 
 Repress the surging thoughts. Don't hurry. Let this 
 drama of yours come upon the Sublime Stage slowly. 
 
 We will set the scenery first. 
 
 The Old Home, where you were born. 
 
 The interior of the old farmhouse, complete, from cel 
 lar to garret. Mother's room. Your own little bed 
 tucked way up in that wonderful old attic, where you 
 used to hear the raindrops patter upon the roof, and be 
 so glad that you were snug inside.
 
 170 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Here are the pictures on the wall, the huge family 
 Bible, grandfather's clock, the old sea chest brought to 
 America by your mother's great-grandfather. All this 
 scenery and furnishings you now behold upon the stage. 
 Yea, even to the shining pots and kettles hanging upon' 
 the wall by the big kitchen stove. 
 
 Quick! 
 
 With one swift stroke, fill this wonderful stage with 
 the life which filled it in that long ago, when you were a 
 tiny child. 
 
 Ah, here it is instantly. 
 
 Your dear old father in his big chair by the grate, 
 peacefully smoking his long Holland pipe, and resting 
 from his day's toil in the fields. Here is your sweet 
 faced mother, washing the supper dishes and your sisters 
 helping her. Here is your big brother, and perhaps the 
 guest. Here is the dog, the cat, even the canary bird 
 in its cage in the south window, with its head tucked 
 under its dainty wing to dream the night, hidden among 
 the potted plants and ferns which your mother treasured 
 so carefully. 
 
 Now step outside. 
 
 Behold! The old farm stretches about you in the light 
 of that same mellow moon which shone down so warmly 
 and softly in the face of your first girl, as in that rosy 
 long ago, she blushingly raised her face and you im 
 printed upon her red lips that first magic kiss, which 
 thrilled both your young hearts to bounding ecstasy. 
 
 Come, walk down to that sequestered nook by the pond, 
 where you told her of your love. Down there where the 
 frogs croaked hoarsely among the bullrushes, and the 
 owls hooted lonesomely in the nearby oaks. Here in the 
 soft summer moonlight where the fireflies danced among 
 the alders by the roadside, and where the locust spun 
 out his lazy drone far into the amorous summer night. 
 Where the katydid chirped her harvest song in the wil 
 low hedge beside the fields of corn; those glorious fields 
 of corn, stretching far down the gentle reaches of the 
 valley, their silken tassels and leaves of dusky green, 
 softly rustling in the embrace of the soft night wind.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 171 
 
 Yes, here by the pond, you told her your love story, 
 yours, of all the world. Here, where the whip-poor-will 
 uttered his lonesome cry from the orchard, and the dark 
 winged bats darted hither and thither in the ghostly beams 
 of the moon. Here, where the tiny wavelets of the pond 
 murmuringly lapped the pebbly beach, and rocked the 
 white and gold water lillies to the soft rhythm of the 
 breeze. 
 
 Yeal Here it is. 
 
 All! All upon this wonderful stage of your soul. 
 
 How Memory, the gentle player, scatters her tender 
 caresses as we sweetly dream. 
 
 But let us change the scene from night to day. 
 
 Be regal! Wave the magic wand, generous Prospero. 
 Command ! 
 
 Up sun! 
 
 Here it is morning! The sun's up. That same 
 burning, smoking, yellow ball, which beat down upon you 
 so fiercely the day you stumbled into the bumble-bee's 
 nest out in the smothering, stifling hay field. 
 
 Here's the horses to water, the cows to milk, the chick 
 ens to feed. 
 
 Here's the great Sunday dinner of the harvest time. 
 The huge plate of delicious bread, the big steaming bowl 
 of milk gravy. The baked potatoes, bursting their sat 
 iny skins in the intense heat of the oven, their white 
 mealy hearts showing thru the rich brown cracks. Then 
 the brown basted, plump, yellow legged chickens, their 
 breasts almost bursting with stuffing of bread crumbs 
 and nuts, and seasoned with sprigs of appetizing sage. 
 And the fat pumpkin pies, an inch and a half thick, all 
 bound up with a delicate crust that fairly melted in your 
 mouth. And the great pot of delicious steaming coffee, 
 with the big pitcher of thick, yellow cream, to fill the 
 coffee cup one-third full if you wanted to. 
 
 Away back in the old home. 
 
 Yes, it's all here upon the Sublime Stage. 
 
 Here's the first big round dollar you ever earned. See 
 it shining in your hand? Let's see, you earned it saw-
 
 172 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ing wood for widow Jones ; and you spent it? Where else, 
 save on the Fourth of July in Big Hollow. 
 
 Here's the pretty schoolma'am who taught the coun 
 try school. So red-cheeked and cherry-lipped, and whose 
 charming indulgent smile, made you wish you were a 
 great big man and could make love to her. 
 
 Here's . the big, freckled-faced, red-headed boy who 
 gave you such a walloping the first day of school. See 
 him, darn 'im, rubbing his great hard knuckles into your 
 soft tender cheek. And don't you remember, when 
 you went home that night after school with your bloody 
 nose and your torn clothes, of how you vowed that when 
 you got big enough, you would hunt him up, wherever 
 he was, Big Hollow, Poseyville, or New York, and give 
 him a good licking. Yes, and when you did meet him 
 long years afterward, just as big and ornery as ever as he 
 still towered far above you, that instead of taking off 
 your coat and wading into him, you just gave him the 
 glad hand and looked into his good-natured face and 
 smiled, and sought the nearest "rookery" for a cold bot 
 tle for old times' sake. 
 
 Then your courtship. Your marriage. The first baby. 
 Mother's death. Father's funeral. Sister's sudden tak 
 ing away. Here they pass, all crossing the Sublime Stage, 
 flitting behind the scenes, only to spring up and smile at 
 your slightest bidding. 
 
 And all this is just one mere portion of the individual's 
 sweet tender past, as it is often similiarly played upon 
 the Sublime Stage of the Soul. 
 
 Now let us bring up a few scenes of the future. 
 
 How easy it is. 
 
 Every scene perfect, every actor real, just as tho they 
 were all materialized, and the thing done outwardly. 
 
 Here's that old wad of money you have slaved all your 
 life for, and now you're going to spend it on the kids. 
 
 Robert is to go to Ann Arbor. 
 
 Katherine to Vassar. 
 
 You see them go. You see the routine and joy and la 
 bor of college days. You see them return.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 173 
 
 Katherine just escaped getting married before her sec 
 ond year in college, and now she really is a bride. 
 
 You are giving the bride away. 
 
 Your pretty Katherine, dressed all in white, and smil 
 ing joyously up at you, as you give her your parental 
 blessing, and press her innocent red lips. 
 
 Here's Robert. You see him hanging out his law 
 shingle. He goes to Congress. He becomes famous. A 
 worthy son of his old care-worn dad. 
 
 Thus the play swings on and on, with its wondrous 
 show to the very last. To that time, dear reader, when the 
 final curtain drops for you. When the footlights go out, 
 the foyer and the dress-circle empties, and the dark 
 plumed hearse hauls you out to the graveyard on the 
 hill, and your poor tired bones are laid to rest at last, 
 beneath the green and blooming sod which gathers us all. 
 
 Is not this true? 
 
 Gloriously, superbly true? 
 
 Let us turn from our own soul theatre, to those of the 
 great masters. The Titans of Art. 
 
 Genesis ! 
 
 The glorious "Old Testament" of conquering Israel. 
 
 The unknown writers of these noble dramas of an 
 tiquity. 
 
 To Plato, who establishing his great theoretical Re 
 public, divided himself into innumerable suffragists, in 
 order that his State might have real form and life; and 
 such it has indeed had for the students of all subsequent 
 times. Plato's "Republic." A grand democracy, teem 
 ing within the six by six inch skull of the great Greek 
 philosopher. 
 
 Socrates was content with the discourse and compan 
 ionship of a single daemon or spirit, but that sublime 
 discourse peopled the Grecian national soul with hun 
 dreds of noble thoughts; and to this very day, those im-. 
 mortal thoughts of his flit to and fro, enlivening the wit 
 of modern society. 
 
 Phidias, looking upon the gorgeous stage of his soul, be 
 held Athene, the colossal virgin, her arms outstretched 
 in irresistible appeal, begging to be materialized in ivory
 
 174 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and gold. Behold, the Parthenon, the jewel casket. Be 
 hold inside, Athene Parthenos, the immortal goddess with 
 her matchless robes, her sapphire eyes, her peerless form, 
 placed by the inspired sculptor from the mighty work 
 shop of his soul, upon the marble pedestal of the Ac 
 ropolis of Athens. 
 
 The unlettered Mohammed, establishing his religion. 
 This vision-bound Arab reaching out with his fierce wild 
 genius, into the infinite reaches of his soul, bringing to 
 his idolatrous countrymen a religion of the sword-hand, 
 which even to this very day tightly grips holy Jerusalem, 
 the most sacred material shrine of Jew, Christian, and 
 Moslem. 
 
 Studious Dante, too, stocked both an Inferno and a 
 Paradise with the wondrous creatures of his morbid im 
 agery. 
 
 Audacious Francis Bacon, beheld a boundless universe 
 within his soul, and sighed and wept, that he could not 
 completely catalogue this domain for the information 
 of his fellowmen. With an intellect which absorbed 
 every department of human knowledge, he wished to dis 
 play it all; but overwhelmed by the vastness of his out 
 look, he could only fondly sigh, write a few pages, and 
 feebly die. 
 
 Upon this mighty soul stage, first walked many of the 
 noblest characters of Shakespeare. The sublime poet, pen 
 in hand, merely sketched them out on paper to delight 
 a waiting world as they had delighted him. They sim 
 ply passed from the stage of his soul, out upon the boards 
 of the Elizabethan playhouse. 
 
 Under the majestic roof of the noble theatre of Mind, 
 the woman-denied Spinoza spent his fervid years, and 
 later, described his wonderful comrades of Thought to an 
 eager world of philosophers. 
 
 Here the blind Milton, rolling sightless eyes in nerve 
 less sockets, beheld with his real eyes, his soul eyes, a 
 drama so vast, as to bridge the boundless abyss of Chaos, 
 from the red land of Hell to the pearly heights of Heaven. 
 
 Reader, think of this for a moment. 
 
 A man who was blind, who could not behold the ma-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 175 
 
 terial world, beheld within the world of Thought, the 
 most stupendous drama ever conceived in the soul of a 
 mere man. 
 
 Was not his, indeed, a THEATRE TERRIBLE? 
 
 From out the world of thought, the inimitable Balzac, 
 plucked many soul characters, some who actually live 
 when summoned in the reading, fairly bursting the cov 
 ers of their books in the leap of their wonderful realness. 
 Critics are prone to limit him as a natural realist; "Ser- 
 aphita" declares him a realist of the soul as well. 
 
 Here the gentle Harriet Beecher Stowe first beheld the 
 epoch making "Uncle Tom's Cabin." The emotions of 
 the writing of the death sce;ne of " Little Eva " caused her 
 a three day's sickness, and to 'this day, this strictly soul 
 created child of heart strings and pathos holds Young 
 America to the last sweet word. 
 
 Also in these latter days, comes the great singer, Walt 
 Whitman. Unclassified, exuberant, fearless sexed as a 
 stallion; a most mighty trumpet blower, sounding the 
 hymn of the Universal. Waving his baton in stirring ap 
 peal, endeavoring to choir the nations of the earth in one 
 resounding diapason of peace and harmony. Ever striv 
 ing to catch the wonderful elfin band of his soul, to ex 
 hibit them to a wondering and admiring world. 
 
 From this glorious stage, spoke the Raven into the 
 listening ear of the weird Poe. 
 
 Here Columbus beheld the vision of the New World. 
 By his faith in that vision, he manned his ships, he plowed 
 the ocean ; and in the dim morning of a triumphal day, he 
 saw rising above the wilderness of misty waters, a glorious 
 blue ridge, which forged his surpassing vision into the 
 most wonderful material reality. Land! An island. 
 The first stepping stone to a new world. 
 
 John Brown saw the vision of the freed slave within 
 the portals of his Mind. True to that vision, he sacrificed 
 his life upon the scaffold. 
 
 Here, too, the immortal Lincoln beheld the mighty 
 figure of Columbia, grasping in her hands those lustrous 
 stars of the Union, which Secession was trying to wring 
 from her grasp. But Father Abraham placed Columbia's
 
 176 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 figure imperishable, upon the pedestal of the Nation. 
 That pedestal was swept with blood, and furrowed with 
 iron, but it stood. And in the sweet days of peace that 
 followed, Columbia no longer grasped her jewels to protect 
 them from theft, but placed them in a glittering crown 
 upon her brow, to light the world with the glory of a na 
 tion of free, enlightened, and united states. 
 
 Here the mad and misguided Booth succumbed to the 
 seductions of Fanaticism. And here the baited Czolgoz, 
 falling under the fatal spell of Anarchy, struck a blow 
 at his God, believing him to be Satan. 
 
 Here the dauntless Marconi first beheld the vision of 
 tall masts flashing fiery language across vast watery 
 leagues of threshing oceans. 
 
 To this wondrous stage turns the immigrant, and sees 
 once more the castled heights of the German Rhine, the 
 sparkling blue of the Hungarian Danube. 
 
 Here are the white cliffs of old England. 
 
 The green meadows of Hibernia. 
 
 The bleak fjords of Scandinavia. 
 
 The long clay pipes and wooden shoes of dear Holland. 
 
 Yea ! Here, upon the stage of the Theatre Terrible, are 
 flashed all the well-known scenes of the "old countree." 
 
 But enough, sweet, patient reader. 
 
 You realize, you comprehend, you know. 
 
 A universe dwells within your soul. 
 
 It contains all that is known to man, and likewise, all 
 that is still unknown to him. 
 
 The Finite, the Known, has been garnered from its 
 flowering fields; but the Infinite, the Unknown, lies be 
 fore him to be discovered, to be brought into light, invit 
 ing his further explorations. 
 
 The inventors, artists, and the philosophers -of all the 
 mighty Past have brought him its matchless products, and 
 laid them at his feet. Likewise the intrepid soul explorers 
 of the Future, will bring new wonders from out its shin 
 ing depths to illume and delight a waiting world. 
 
 In comparison with the wonders of this sublime spirit 
 ual edifice, the material wonders of the world are as 
 naught. The Grand Canon of the Colorado is a mere
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 177 
 
 scratch, Niagara, a falling raindrop, the highest mountain 
 a mere pebble, the combined bulk of all the oceans, as a 
 glass of water; and the vast, careening world itself, a mere 
 tumble-weed, blown across the brown prairies by the 
 merry winds. 
 
 A soul? 
 
 Yea! 
 
 The greatest playhouse in existence, believing that 
 the universe of God's, like man's, is wrapped within its 
 wondrous folds. 
 
 The soul ! 
 
 The Sublime Stage! 
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE!
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 After driving Fiorina from the cottage, Standish had 
 hurriedly dressed himself and started up the mountain. 
 He ate no breakfast. He put no food in his pockets, and 
 he had taken no notice of his hungry pets. He simply 
 rushed from the house and sprang up the slopes of the 
 Emerald. When a man is giving and taking blows with 
 Satan, all minor offices are ignored. The unhappy man 
 was entering the mountain solitudes to triumph or die. 
 If he triumphed he would return to Plume and resume 
 his accustomed duties; if he lost, the wolves would pick 
 his bones. 
 
 Shep followed him, dancing and barking, anticipating 
 nothing less than a jaunt with his beloved master. He 
 didn't care for breakfast either, with that pleasure in front 
 of him. 
 
 But suddenly his joy changed to sorrow. His master 
 was throwing stones at him. At first, he thought it was 
 in sport, and he barked all the louder, and playfully bit 
 at the passing missies. Then the mad man shouted 
 threateningly, and a sharp stone finally hit the faithful 
 animal, causing him to yelp with pain. It was the first 
 blow that he had ever received from the hand of his 
 master. Then another stone struck his leg and made him 
 limp. But even then he did not understand. The wild 
 voice of his master rang again. 
 
 "Get! Get out of here. YOU! Go, go," was the 
 angry command. But altho the poor animal was really 
 suffering from his hurts, yet completely bewildered with 
 it all, he crawled up to his master, low upon his belly, 
 with his dark eyes turned up beseechingly and his tail 
 beating the ground. He was received Avith a shower of 
 blows with a club of charred pine the remains of some 
 forest fire, rained savagely upon him by the hand that 
 had always petted him. The dog yelped pitifully, and 
 
 179
 
 180 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 was fairly beaten to the ground by the fierce onslaught, 
 but even then he did not flinch, or try to get away. Sud 
 denly the blows ceased, and he was brutally kicked by his 
 master's foot, shod, as it was, in a heavy hob-nailed bro- 
 gan. And this was too much for the poor animal. The 
 infamy of it. He, the proud, magnificent collie, kicked 
 thus like a common cur. 
 
 As his master's heavy brogan struck him squarely, piti 
 lessly, with terrific force in the side, Shep gave a howl of 
 mingled pain and despairing bewilderment, and ran back 
 toward the cottage, limping and moaning; and while the 
 man started on unconcerned the faithful animal after 
 retreating a short distance, cowered down in the bushes, 
 licking his hurts and moaning pitifully. 
 
 All day the man strode on. Once he passed a waterfall. 
 The wild rush and roar of the waters seeming to madden 
 him. Turning, he rushed back into it and stood a mo 
 ment, the icy flood drenching him to the skin. He 
 shrieked out. Perhaps it was the scream of the Beast, as 
 it felt the cold chill of the torrent. 
 
 Then night came on, with its ghostly shadows. The 
 moon rose and looked into the dim glades, and still the 
 crazed man maintained the same unbroken pace. 
 
 As the day broke, he fell, completely exhausted, beside 
 a tiny brook, and thrusting his head down like a wounded 
 deer, he lapped up a few draughts from the cool fountain. 
 Then turning upon his back, with his distorted features 
 turned up, he looked blankly at the blue sky. 
 
 As he laid there thus, an animal sprang into view, mov 
 ing rapidly with its nose close to the ground. It was 
 evidently upon the wild man's trail. But instantly, as it 
 discovered the form lying still and silent beside the stream, 
 it shrank back into the bushes, raising its head and snuf 
 fing the air as if to determine whether the prostrate form 
 were living or dead. It seemed satisfied that the form 
 had life, for it did not venture nearer, but crept still 
 further back into the thicket, peering furtively out from 
 time to time. At other times it painfully licked different 
 parts of its body. 
 
 It was Shcp. Undaunted by his master's cruel blows
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 181 
 
 and curses, and quite unmindful of his desperately bruised 
 side, he had recovered from his 'bewilderment and taken 
 up Standish's trail, following it thru the pathless soli 
 tudes, to live or die, faithful to the memory of his beloved 
 master. Within the dumb brute's brain was that instinct 
 of blind faith, which the horse and the dog have ever 
 evinced so nobly. Blind, undaunted faith, yea, constant 
 e'en unto death. 
 
 But to return to the man. 
 
 Standish was making the soul-battle of his life. 
 
 Severe, think you, dear reader? 
 
 Let us turn to the chronicle of another sorely-tempted 
 individual. 
 
 Christ, the Son of Man, fasted forty days in the wilder 
 ness, that he might triumph in the cause of righteousness. 
 For forty days and nights, His soul was filled with the 
 demons of Satan, in dreadful deadly conflict with the elect 
 of Heaven. The most stupendous drama ever enacted in 
 the annals of the Theatre Terrible, or recorded in the 
 chronicles of man. 
 
 At last despairing, Satan fell back into the black pit 
 of hell, while the glad seraphic songs of rejoicing triumph 
 ant angels filled the soul of the Saviour. The Heavens 
 opened, and He saw God. He hungered, and angels minis 
 tered unto Him. Returning to Jerusalem, He performed 
 His divine mission ; and expiring upon Calvary, the World 
 was washed in the blood of the Lamb. 
 
 And thus, into the wilderness went Standish Brown, to 
 fast, to starve, to subdue the lustful body, to feed the weak 
 spirit with righteous thoughts. Soul-food, divine elixir, 
 quaffed from the breast of Solitude. 
 
 For seven days Standish plunged on into the wilderness. 
 Scenting the smoke of a prospector's fire, he would turn 
 in the opposite direction. Seeing a settler's cabin, he 
 would run away from it. In his mad flight he would 
 gather wild berries, and eat them as he fled. Once he 
 caught a trout with his bare hands thrust suddenly into 
 a pool of water left by the floods, and eating it raw, he 
 threw its head and spine into the bushes, where Shep, 
 starved to the thinness of a wolf, but still clinging tenaci-
 
 182- THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ously to his master's trail, found them and crunched them 
 down ravenously. As the sun rose brightly on the morn 
 ing of the eighth day of the unhappy man's wanderings, 
 he was evir 1 itly almost too weak to rise from where he 
 had fallen in the dry bed of a late spring watercourse. 
 After lying there for sometime, completely helpless, he 
 finally endeavored to rise. He struggled to his knees. His 
 clothes were in rags, and his torn flesh showed thru the 
 rents in the tattered garments. 
 
 But he did not mind the bleeding flesh, the wounds 
 were the sweet thorn pricks of his temptation. What was 
 mere flesh to a soul at peace ? Ah ! Sweet, glorious peace 
 of God at last ! And kneeling there in the deep sand-rip 
 ples in the soft breeze of the morning, with tears of joy 
 rolling down his emaciated cheeks, he prayed long and 
 fervently. 
 
 His soul was free at last. Gloriously free. 
 
 He had passed from under the Shadow. He had fought 
 the terrible Beast which had cast that shadow, and over 
 its dead form he beheld once more the pure light of God. 
 
 Lust was slain. 
 
 Yes, there it laid, a corpse. A slain monster of iniquity. 
 
 "How art thou fallen, Lucifer!" 
 
 Assured of its death, a celestial joy filled the soul of the 
 exhausted man, and then, lying back upon the stones, 
 he fainted. 
 
 When he awoke, the morning star was glittering bril 
 liantly in the East, just above the first gray streaks of 
 dawn. He had slept nearly twenty-four hours. 
 
 A heavy dew had wet his face. He was very cold, and 
 he shook like a leaf. But rolling over he closed his eyes 
 again. Soon the sun came rolling up and warmed him, 
 and as it fully lighted up the ravine, he grew wide awake 
 again, and sitting up, he looked about him. 
 
 A few yards away an object was squatted, which he 
 thought at first was a wolf. But soon he recognized it as 
 his faithful dog, Shep. 
 
 "Shep," he called, "Good dog, Shep," he said coax- 
 ingly. 
 
 Slowly the poor, wounded, half-starved animal crawled
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 183 
 
 forward on his belly. He did not know whether he was 
 to receive another cruel blow, or be greeted with a caress. 
 His dark eyes were moist. His tail beating nervously 
 upon the ground as he slowly crept forward. Finally 
 reaching his master's hand, he licked it eagerly with his 
 feverish tongue. Then assured, and snuffing his unspeak 
 able joy thru his delicate nostrils, he poked his brown nose 
 into his master's lap ; and as Standish looked down at him 
 with his streaming eyes, the poor brute looked up into his 
 face, and expressed his great joy in prolonged howls. 
 
 Standish hugged him fondly and wept over the animal's 
 cruel bruises. Weak as he was, he had discovered them. 
 Then he wondered how they came there. Some terrible 
 fall he supposed. But the dog knew, and as he snuggled 
 his nose with confidence into his master's lap, he forgot 
 them all in his great joy. His good master was himself 
 again. 
 
 Slowly Standish began to realize his desperate condi 
 tion, dimly recollecting portions of his wild wanderings. 
 That which he could not recall, the tattered clothes, the 
 bloody scratches and cuts, the starving condition of the 
 dog and himself, told only too plainly. But again his 
 spirit was revived by the illumination of a soul bathed in 
 the divine light of Purity. The day of trial was past. The 
 great victory was won. A great joy would surely lead him 
 to food and shelter. 
 
 By dint of half crawling, half walking, with the aid of 
 a stick, he moved towards a point where he had observed 
 a heavy smoke. The smoke rising at a point just ahead 
 of him from over the crest of a low ridge. 
 
 He stopped and rested at least a dozen times in the 
 steep ascent, Shep crawling up ahead of him. When the 
 dog reached the summit, he wagged his tail assuringly, 
 which filled his master with hope. 
 
 Finally, reaching the brow of the ridge by a last ex 
 haustive effort, he recognized the smoke as that coming 
 from a locomotive which must have just passed. Lying 
 there for a long time, he rested. Soon another train rolled 
 thru the valley. It was the second section of Denver & 
 Rio Grande, No. 4, eastward 'bound for Denver. But he
 
 184 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 did not know this at the time. He only knew that it was 
 a train, running upon a track at the foot of the ridge 
 which he had so laboriously ascended. Fortunately, he 
 could make better time down grade. The faithful dog 
 went ahead as before. Pausing occasionally, he would wait 
 until his master came up, and after licking his thin, 
 trembling hand, he would again lead the way. 
 
 Standish finally reached the track late that afternoon, 
 and digging a hole between the ties, he inserted his stick. 
 To this he tied his handkerchief. Then laying down be 
 side the track, almost fainting from his exertions and the 
 pangs of extreme hunger, he 'waited for help. 
 
 As the sun was dropping far down into the West, he 
 heard the low rumble of a hand-car coming down the 
 track, loaded with a section crew returning from their 
 day's work. The men on board saw the signal, and slowed 
 up. Stopping the car, they leaped off and greeted Stan- 
 dish, and observing his pitible condition the foreman 
 pulled out a bottle of brandy and forced him to take a 
 generous swallow. Standish protested weakly but without 
 avail. It was the first taste of liquor he had ever drank. 
 Still the stern uncompromising Puritan. 
 
 Placing Standish and the dog upon the floor of the car, 
 among the tools and dinner buckets, the men started on, 
 and reaching the lonely station of Beaver Creek, they 
 turned the exhausted, half-starved creatures over to the 
 station agent, who was also the day operator. Standish 
 pulled a dollar out of his pocket, and handing it to the 
 agent, said faintly, 
 
 " I want to send a telegram to Colonel Charles Rose at 
 Denver. Please write it out for me." The agent nodding 
 his readiness, Standish dictated the following: 
 
 "I am all 0. K. Will see you tomorrow or next day. Wire 
 Rourke of the mine." 
 
 "Please sign it, Standish Brown," he added. 
 
 " Standish Brown !" exclaimed the operator, in astonish 
 ment. " Good God, man, they have offered a reward of 
 $10,000.00 for your whereabouts, dead or alive. It's been 
 in the papers for a week."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 185 
 
 "Is that so?" said Standish, "I never thought I was 
 worth ten thousand to anyone; it may be dead, tho, if I 
 don't get a bite of something to eat before long." 
 
 The agent rattled off the message like one possessed, 
 then running to the kitchen, where his wife was getting 
 supper, he informed her of the incident, and returning 
 with her, they helped Standish to a chair at the table. He 
 ate ravenously, reaching down great chunks of bread and 
 meat to the starving dog. The agent soon became alarmed. 
 He too, began to think it would indeed be "dead," if he 
 didn't check this fierce onslaught of his guest. And he 
 was actually forced to stop the thin, gaunt man from 
 further indulgence, for fear that he might kill himself 
 from overeating. Then getting him upstairs to bed, and 
 giving Shep a rug on the floor, the agent closed the door, 
 whereupon, Shep immediately crawled up on the bed, and 
 slept in his accustomed place at his master's feet. 
 
 The next morning at ten o'clock, when the agent looked 
 in on them, Standish was snoring heavily. But Shep 
 looked up, and thrusting his head between his paws again, 
 blinked sleepily. At five o'clock that afternoon the agent 
 visited them again. 
 .Standish opened his eyes. 
 
 "What time it is, neighbor?" he asked. "When does 
 the next train leave for Denver? Say, where the deuce 
 is this place, anyway?" he continued, with reviving 
 powers. 
 
 And as the good-natured agent made answer to his 
 strange guest's hurried questions, Standish laid back on 
 the bed and sighed. It was at least fifty miles in an air 
 line from Plume. God only knew what the distance was 
 as he had traveled it. Qver hill and dale, up and down 
 great mountains, including the Continental Divide, and a 
 turning away from everything that resembled a human 
 habitation. 
 
 " Call me at supper time, please," he said, after a mo 
 ment, "and say, make it a bully one, and you'll never re 
 gret it." 
 
 And for the first time the agent laughed at his guest.
 
 186 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 " All right, Mr. Brown," he replied, "wife will fill you 
 up this time sure, for I declare you seem to need it." 
 
 Standish left a lot of happy fellows behind him at the 
 lonely station of Beaver Creek. To each of the section men 
 he gave a generous-sized check, and afterward from Denver 
 he sent presents to the married men's children and wives. 
 They talk about it to this day on the Rio Grande. And 
 the station agent and his good wife, who have moved sev 
 eral times since then, invariably receive handsome presents 
 every Christmas, in the memory of two meals served to a 
 man and a dog in the little red station-house of Beaver 
 Creek. 
 
 Standish arrived in Denver the night of the day fol 
 lowing his wire to the Colonel, the Colonel meeting him 
 at the depot with his carriage at a late hour. The next 
 morning after breakfast, as they sat in the Colonel's cozy 
 den, the following conversation took place. 
 
 Shep was there, too, lying contentedly beside the fire 
 place, with his brown paws resting upon the delicate pink 
 tiling, and his nose thrust between them. While the Col 
 onel, puffing a fragrant cigar, and blowing the smoke 
 toward the fire, looked up at Standish curiously and said, 
 
 " Standish, now on the dead, what caused you to give 
 us a scare like this?" 
 
 Standish looked dreamily into the fire for a moment 
 without replying, his face twitching awkwardly, and his 
 long legs shifting uneasily. Finally he said: 
 
 " Colonel, did you ever do anything in your life that 
 you never told anyone about? A sort of a closed-book 
 incident, you know. You you know I never have had 
 a chance to sow my wild oats yet, Colonel. Perhaps that 
 accounts for it in a man of my age." 
 
 The Colonel looked at Standish with his face half 
 saddened, half smiling, at the very vivid recollection of 
 several interesting "closed-book" incidents occurring in 
 his own long and eventful career, especially of the wild 
 oats' period. 
 
 "Yes, I reckon I have, my boy," he finally drawled 
 out, with deep significance. 
 
 "Well, Colonel," continued Standish, "this was just
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 187 
 
 one of those occurrences that a self-respecting man locks 
 up in his own soul. One of those secrets in which only 
 God and the individual are concerned. I'm sorry I 
 kicked over the traces, and caused you all this vexation 
 and worry, old friend; but darn it, Colonel, it's hard to 
 trot the road steady all the time, and now that I'm myself 
 again, I'll try and make amends. Too long in the one 
 same rut and grind, pld friend, will bring down the 
 strongest." 
 
 The Colonel read between the lines, and he marveled 
 at the man, who, motherless, fatherless, without wife, 
 child, or sweetheart for all he knew and possessed 
 of enough wealth to tempt him to the most supreme 
 material pleasures, could enter into the wilderness of 
 nature and sweep from his lonely heart even the thought 
 of indulgence. 
 
 Standish received a perfect ovation when he arrived 
 at Plume. And Billy, who had been taken in charge 
 by the faithful Rourke, was almost overcome by the great 
 joy of again resuming the company of his former friends. 
 Many searching parties had been organized and sent out, 
 after Ferrari had imparted the knowledge which Fiorina 
 had so tearfully given him. 
 
 She was the last person known to have seen Standish, 
 and Rourke and Nelson felt positive that their employer 
 had become temporarily deranged a not infrequent oc- 
 curence among those living in the Great Hills. Physi 
 cians generally attribute such lapses to the long, dull 
 monotony of mountain life and the high altitude. 
 
 Standish earnestly thanked his friends for their tireless 
 efforts in his behalf, explaining matters as best he could. 
 He offered money to several members of the searching 
 parties, which was almost indignantly refused, in spite 
 of the fact that the Colonel had offered a reward of 
 $10,000.00 for the person of his principal. 
 
 Standish soon resumed his accustomed duties at the 
 mine, altho it took weeks of careful dieting to nourish 
 him back to his former vigor.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 The few days which Standish spent in the wilderness, 
 Fiorina passed in tears and intense anxiety. Poor Ferrari 
 was at his wits end, not only in controlling his personal 
 anxiety for the absence, and possible death, of his em 
 ployer, but also in quieting the fears of his granddaughter. 
 One evening as they sat at the supper table, Fiorina had 
 suddenly broken into tears as Ferrari sorrowfully told 
 her of the non-success of the searching parties. The old 
 man looked at her pityingly, as he read her secret, saying : 
 
 " Leetle one, me knowa, me savy, you lova zee beeg man, 
 all same sweetheart, like wife." 
 
 Fiorina did not reply, but continued her passionate sob 
 bing, concealing her face with her handkerchief. Ferrari 
 arose, and taking off a cover of the stove he placed a live 
 coal in the bowl of his pipe. After pacing back and forth 
 in the little room for a few moments, nervously blowing 
 great clouds of smoke, with his dark eyes gleaming fierce 
 ly from under their snowy brows, he suddenly exclaimed : 
 
 " Saccaree ! Love is dam ! Zee hella feel, my leetle 
 babee, my sweet leetle Fiorina. She lova zee beeg man. 
 She worse than die 'bout him. Ah! Jeeza Krista! Love 
 is dam. What for is hurtem heart," he mused, as if 
 questioning some unseen philosopher. 
 
 Later, when he brought her the good news of Standish's 
 safe return, he was again greeted with tears, but they 
 were tears of joy this time, and he thought that at this 
 outburst his home would again be gladdened by the sound 
 of his little one's voice, singing gaily as she served him 
 with the hot supper and coffee. But not so, she did not 
 brighten. Days, weeks, months passed, but the glad voice 
 was heard no more. 
 
 Fiorina had experienced since her first transports of 
 joy at the news of Standish's return, a gradual sinking in 
 her heart. 
 
 189
 
 190 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 DOUBT had crept into her soul. The ingenuous faith 
 of her girlhood had suddenly been replaced by a great un 
 certainty. It was the effect of her newly-amved woman 
 hood. The happy, artless girl has no doubts, but the 
 sensitive, experiencing woman has. 
 
 Doubt is the quaking aspen of the soul. Its roots 
 strike deep into the fertile soil of thought, and its timor 
 ous leaves tremble in the never ceasing draught of im 
 pressions. 
 
 The impress of the terrible words with which Standish 
 had addressed her the day of his departure had never left 
 her. True, they were only the fierce raving words of a 
 deranged man, yet they rang in her sensitive ears fear 
 fully. They caused her to dou'bt. When doubt enters 
 the soul, Faith weakens, Love droops and despairs. 
 
 Standish's mad words, followed by his prolonged ab 
 sence, had suddenly confronted the intuitive, light-hearted, 
 unreasoning maid, with perplexities, worries, calculations. 
 She was placed in an atmosphere that was unnatural 
 to her. She could not reason. Calculation numbed 
 her. Her soul being of that spontaneous, refined 
 nature, which laughs in the sun, droops beneath the 
 clouds, chills in the storm. A light-seeking nature, which 
 thrives only in an atmosphere of sunshine and smiles, 
 whose subtile elements, when agitated with weightier sub 
 stances, thicken, become congealed, and refuse to flow. 
 
 Thus Fiorina mused and wept continuously. Perhaps 
 Standish did not love her as a woman. Perhaps he only 
 loved her as a child. Perhaps perhaps he did not love 
 her at all, with that supreme passion which a strong man 
 should display toward that woman whom he desires to 
 make his wife, and which a true woman herself demands. 
 All these questions filled the despairing soul of the Italian 
 maid. 
 
 Fiorina had never thought like this before. The wom 
 anhood which Standish had discovered in her, and which 
 had tempted him almost beyond his strength, was now 
 unfolded to herself. The morbid, blind, questioning, 
 thoughts of the full-sexed woman began to torment her. 
 
 As with the face of that great statue of Morning, which
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 191 
 
 Michael Angelo's art created to adorn the tomb of Lorenzo 
 de Medici; that muscular, forceful, virgin figure, whose 
 face expresses, in lieu of the bright smile of a celestial- 
 dawn maiden, the wearied, serious, slowly awakening vis 
 age of a mature, pain-conscious woman. That cold mar 
 ble face which seems to conceal a soul filled with the 
 vague dim consciousness, that life, the real, ripe life of the 
 full mature years, contains the ashy cup of sorrows, 
 labors, aches, and pains; as well as the golden sunshine 
 of happiness and joy; and further, was it worth the 
 while for the creature, and whose the responsibility of 
 placing wormwood in the cup of pleasure? 
 
 Thus Fiorina was dimly beginning to know life. Na 
 ture, in maturing her to womanhood, had presented her 
 a glittering dagger with which to wound her flesh. A 
 torch to light her soul. A veil to hide her tears. Thus 
 doubt gnawed at her heartstrings. Her cheeks lost their 
 bloom. Her plump form thinned. Her natural gaiety 
 of spirits sank to the depths of silent grief, and her dark 
 eyes crept far back into their sockets, their lids seemingly 
 ever brimming with tears. 
 
 As she stood one morning looking out of the south 
 window of their cottage upon the first snows of winter, 
 all glistening white and pure in the rays of the rising 
 sun, she seemed to be a thing of almost transparent waxen 
 beauty. Going to the east window, where her canary bird 
 was perched in its cage and protected from the cold 
 draught by a heavy shade, she raised the shade, and the 
 warbler bathed soft and mellow in the bright sunshine, 
 bobbed its tiny head from side to side, as if but half 
 awake. Fiorina looked wistfully at the yellow thing and 
 sighed deeply. All the longings of her sad heart went 
 out to the pretty artless creature. 
 
 " Nicca, Nicca, sing to me," she said appealingly, put 
 ting up her hand between the bars of the cage for the 
 bird to kiss, the tapering fingers showing rosy in the rays 
 of the sun as the rich blood coursed thru them. The 
 songster pecked daintly at its mistress' fingers for a mo 
 ment, and then darted away.
 
 192 
 
 "Nicca, Nicca, sing to me," she repeated imploringly, 
 her dark eyes moistening. Returning to its perch the 
 yellow beauty spread its wings in the warm sunshine, first 
 one and then the other, darting its slender head under 
 each wing and thrusting its tiny beak into the soft down, 
 as if enjoying the dainty charms and delicate odor of its 
 tender flesh. 
 
 " Chirp, chirp," it peeped, looking out of the window 
 as its tiny soul began to awaken. Presently, as the sun 
 mounted higher and higher, it began a timorous, plaintive 
 song. Then, as the sunbeams gradually warmed, its song 
 grew louder and louder, and, finally, as all the gladness 
 of the morning filled its piping soul, it 'burst forth in 
 full-throated, beatific, spontaneous melody. 
 
 Fiorina stood there with her hands clasped in exquisite 
 ecstasy, the passionate effulgent vibrations of the glad 
 song thrilling her soul with a divine meaning ; and falling 
 upon her knees before the porcelain image of her Saviour, 
 she was filled with the full; glad sweetness of womanly 
 
 joy-
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Grim winter had come again, binding up the village 
 with its icy bleakness, and loosening the snowy folds of 
 that white winding sheet which for eight months of the 
 year shrouds the giant forms of the Eternal Hills. 
 
 For days the storm had raged, wildly tossing the white 
 legions of the snow-king upon the fierce shrieking winds. 
 
 Winter never entirely leaves the mountains. Among 
 the high peaks and the Continental Divide, it has built 
 its eternal lair. In the summer time it withdraws, cower 
 ing far back into the canons, crevices, caves, and gulches 
 of the north slopes, but at the very first moment of its 
 carnival season, it leaps shrieking and exulting into the 
 depths of the shivering valleys and gulches, and rushing 
 from the mountain fastnesses out upon the wide-spread 
 ing plains, scourges to action its terror-spreading, frost 
 biting, storm-frenzied legions of ice. 
 
 The wild Tartar winds are the mad bellowing steeds 
 of the sjnow and ice legions. Skimming the air with their 
 white riders and frosty manes, they drive the terror-struck 
 birds to the far southland. They flay bruin to his lair 
 and shut him up in his cave for his long winter's nap. 
 They seal the hole of the squirrel, the chipmunk, and 
 the "gopher. They lock up the trout streams, and cast 
 the sun-laughing lakes and pools into vast mirrors of 
 glittering ice. Upon the Great Plains they freeze the 
 brown tufted buffalo grass fast to the poverty-stricken 
 soil, and smother the drought-defying cacti in pillows of 
 fleece. 
 
 Hoary, vicious, cruel old Winter. 
 
 Monarch of Bites. 
 
 King of Stings. 
 
 Great Prince of Nips. 
 
 Lash your steeds. Split the air with your wild, exultant 
 laughter. Chain up the waters with your frosts. Scourge 
 
 193
 
 194 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 flesh to its red fires; and bind up the great sun in your 
 conquering strands of ice. 
 
 For days the elements had raged thus in the gulch. 
 Occasionally the sun would shine palely thru the rifts 
 in the clouds, but the storm-king would as quickly rally 
 his white legions and again storm the battlements of light 
 with his folds of shining white. It was the great Winter 
 of 1898-99. Known in the Rocky Mountain region and 
 grimly recorded in the annals of mountain railroading, 
 as the most terrible winter ever experienced on the Great 
 Divide. The unusually heavy profits made by the moun 
 tain roads the previous summer, were not only w T holly 
 wiped out, but a heavy deficit was entailed, in penetrating 
 and battling among the white ramparts of the snow-king. 
 The C. C. & U. was blocked from Denver to Plume. A 
 train which had arrived in Plume several days previous 
 to the storm we are recording, was lying under light steam 
 at the depot completely snowed in. Most of the mines 
 were shut down owing to lack of fuel, and also to the 
 difficulty which the miners experienced in going to and 
 from their work. 
 
 Ferrari was at home this particular day, Standish hav 
 ing informed his men that they could stay home on full 
 time until the storm abated. The men had gratefully 
 accepted the generous favor and remained in the bosom 
 of their families. The wives and children were happy 
 in the secure home possession of husband and father, and 
 hugely enjoyed themselves in their warm, snug cottages; 
 while outside the storm-king raged incessantly and the 
 slopes of the Great Hills smoked, misted, and scudded in 
 the fierce onslaught of his fury. 
 
 Altho Ferrari remained close in his cottage that day, 
 Rourke and Nelson, forever wrapped up in the life of 
 the mine, had managed to plow their way thru the deep 
 drifts to Standish's cottage and report "to their chief. 
 They did not attempt to enter the mine, however, and 
 after warning Standish of the vast masses and combs of 
 snow which hung menacingly over the crest of the 
 Emerald, and which were especially noticeable from the 
 village, and also pointing out the great treacherous snow-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 195 
 
 fields lying many feet deep upon the nearer slopes of the 
 same mountain, they returned to their homes. 
 
 " During a mountain blizzard the snow generally lies in 
 great unbroken drifts in the lower levels of the gulches, 
 but upon the upper slopes it tumbles and rolls in the fury 
 of the wind like the billows of a white ocean ; while upon 
 the more lofty, distant cliffs and crags, it lies massed and 
 crouched as a lion of threatening white, in enormous 
 overhanging folds, combs, and cornices. 
 
 In the Rocky Mountain region the snow is looked upon 
 and called the White Death. 
 
 The White Wolf. 
 
 During several months of winter it is a constant, ever 
 close hovering, hideous death shape to the anxious mind 
 of the miner's wife, holding close and fast within its 
 sinuous folds of shining fleece all the terrors of the death- 
 dealing snow-slide. A death which snuffs out human 
 lives as noiselessly, remorselessly, and completely, as a 
 draught of air snuffs out the flame of a candle. 
 
 The miner's wife kisses her husband good-bye on a 
 bright winter's morning. He plows his way thru the 
 deep snow on his way to the mine. When suddenly, per 
 haps when he is only half way, he sees a white cloud 
 bearing down upon him from the upper slopes of the 
 mountain. He leaps and tries to escape, but it avails lit 
 tle in the deep, overpowering drifts, and usually the 
 course of the dreadful death shape is so uncertain that 
 many have saved their lives by calmly waiting and stand 
 ing still, in the hope that it may turn from its course and 
 pass harmlessly by. In any event, it's a mere gamble, 
 standing still or running, for the slide moves with the 
 velocity of a hurricane. Striking its victim, it sweeps him 
 away in a smother of silence, and a few days later they 
 bring him home in a box, after a score or more of men 
 have exhausted themselves in digging his remains from 
 under the debris of the remorseless slide. Sometimes 
 they do not find his body until the snow melts in the 
 spring, and thus the unhappy wife and family live thru 
 the long, dreary months haunted day and night by a 
 prospective funeral. And sometimes, too, the husband
 
 196 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 never returns, but is buried under tons and tons of rock, 
 which the slide has gathered in its fall. 
 
 A quartz miner's life is always a very hazardous one, 
 and altho he is prone to laugh at its dangers, yet his poor 
 wife feels the ever crouching terror of it ; and ever dread 
 ing its appalling uncertainty, she generally lives to bury 
 her dead one by one. The husband, the sons, perhaps 
 the grandsons; crushed with rock, swallowed up in the 
 snow-slide, or torn and rent by the premature blast, or 
 the missed shot. Thus hideous death, met in several 
 terrifying forms, ever abides with her, as her men folk 
 burrow for gold in the bowels of the Great Hills. 
 
 In its remarkable gyrations, a snow-slide is almost as 
 freakish as a Kansas cyclone. 
 
 A snow-slide has been known to cut a bunk-house in 
 two with the keenness of a cheese knife, engulfing the 
 sleeping inmates in one end and precipitating them into 
 the depths of the gulch below, and piling upon their 
 prostrate forms the bulk of a tumbling crag; only to 
 leave the men in the opposite end of the house, if they 
 escaped suffocation from the vacuum caused by the ter 
 rific onrush of the slide, entirely unharmed, almost un 
 shaken in their bunks, with their erstwhile snug quarters 
 open to the sky. 
 
 A slide has been known to spare a fragile pine, and 
 yet smash to kindling wood a massive shaft house, carry 
 ing it down to yawning depths, with all its heavy 
 machinery. 
 
 As the sides of a mountain often resemble a steep 
 pitched roof, one can, to a certain extent, imagine the 
 phenomenon of a snow-slide on a small scale, by starting 
 a marble from the peak of a steep-roofed house. Starting 
 slowly, it perhaps bounces several times as it hits the 
 different tiers of shingles or tiles, then reaching the eaves 
 it leaps off with a bound, perhaps falling to the roof 
 of a shed beneath, and with constantly accelerated speed, 
 finally plunging into the street or yard, and quite ^likely 
 rolling many feet upon the level until it bumps into a 
 fence or other obstruction, and stops. 
 
 Now, instead of a mere marble rolling thus over a few
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 197 
 
 paltry feet of roof, imagine a 'ball of snow, as large as 
 the bulk weight and diameter of a twenty-story building. 
 Say, for instance, a ball the size of the Masonic Temple of 
 Chicago, flying like a diminutive world or moon, with 
 all the terrific, gathered up, hurtling force of a full mile 
 or more of almost perpendicular fall. 
 
 A gigantic ball of snow, ice, rock, and fallen trees, of 
 a mass three or four hundred feet thick, plunging thus 
 thru one or two miles of sheer yawning space. 
 
 To attempt to realize it, just fancy a mile set up on edge, 
 and see if you would care to stand upon the high-reared 
 end and jump off. 
 
 Imagine, then, just such a colossal ball, and they are 
 often many times larger, and of different shapes and 
 forms, rolling and plunging, flying and leaping, over a 
 gigantic snow and slippery ice-coated roof, which, stretch 
 ing and sloping precipitously down a full mile or more, 
 ends abruptly in the depths of a narrow gulch. Thus 
 trees, boulders, crags, shaft-houses, whole mine dumps, 
 and sometimes even villages, are swept away in the ter 
 rible leap of these monstrous death balls. Swept away as 
 ruthlessly as the heavy wooden ball of the bowler, rushing 
 down the polished slopes of the alley, drives the helpless 
 ten-pins into the sack. 
 
 It is rare for anyone to know the exact starting of a 
 slide. But the usual cause is merely the addition, of snow- 
 flakes. 
 
 Atoms of frost, falling one by one. 
 
 One and one makes two. Two and two makes four, 
 and so on, ad infinitum. 
 
 Tiny particles of ice, dropping dropping, falling fall 
 ing, adding adding, multiplying into great fleecy piles, 
 swelling into huge drifts, and rolling up into great un 
 broken snowfields. 
 
 Vast mats of wet, moist snow, freezing as it falls, and 
 blowing over the crests of the mountains like shifting 
 sand; reaching out and forming monster combs and cor 
 nices, clinging precariously with the weight of tons and 
 tons, to the smooth granite crags and crevices of the 
 jagged crests of the Terrible Hills, and the more regular
 
 198 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 formation of the towering walled heights of the Con 
 tinental Divide, much as one sees them on a small scale 
 form and project over the eaves of a building. 
 
 Sometimes these great treacherous combs form from 
 twenty to forty feet thick over a mountain crest a half a 
 mile long. Tons upon tons of snow, thus hovering over, 
 projecting, and clinging to the dizzy eaves of a mountain, 
 formed by the eternal sweep of the continental winds 
 blowing miles above the plains, and only awaiting the 
 moment which a mounting spring sun or a warm chinook 
 wind offers, to plunge in screaming exultation into the 
 doomed valley below; which all peaceful and -smiling, is 
 seen as a tiny vale of green and white thru the mists 
 and vapors of towering Titans of granite and marble, 
 thrust dizzily upward in the world of clouds, the earth 
 companions of stars, moons, and nebulae. 
 
 THE ADDITION OF SNOWFLAKES! 
 
 This is the true and latent force of the snow-slide. 
 
 But the thing that starts it, is often only recorded in the 
 voiceless silent Ibosom of a solitude so profound, that even 
 virgin Luna veils her face in terror as she swiftly glides 
 across its ghostly strand. 
 
 It is an appalling chronicle of Nature, to the true 
 history of which only Nature herself can certify. 
 
 Mere atoms dropping from a cloud, light as air, falling 
 one by one upon a pine bough. Filling up the crevices 
 far above timber-line among the high poised and hair 
 balanced talus. Perhaps one of these crevices becomes 
 entirely filled with a mass of the beautiful. The tempera 
 ture suddenly rises and the snow falls wet and heavy. 
 Then a cold draught sweeps from the Northwest and a 
 heavy crust is formed. Then a great death comb begins 
 to extend its dreadful tentacles over the edge of the cliff. 
 Soon a gusty wind rises, and tugs fiercely at this ghastly 
 finger of death as it lies dizzily overlapping. The heed 
 less, eternally teasing wind continues to sport and play 
 with this dread finger. Finally it breaks, and falling, 
 starts other pieces of crust and masses of loose snow. 
 
 Or perhaps, so innocent is Nature afield and at play, 
 a snow bird alighting upon a timber-line pine clinging
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 199 
 
 to the face of a cliff, and whose boughs are heavily laden 
 with snow, precipitates a tiny mass of the beautiful down 
 to a slightly lower level of the precipice which is over 
 lapped with a thin crust of ice projecting perilously out 
 over the edge of the cliff. This sudden fall breaks off a 
 piece of it. They fall together, a few feet below breaking 
 off an icicle hanging on a steep ledge. 
 
 The entire mass then falls upon the edge of another 
 ledge, upon which is a small, loose rock or stick. This 
 adds weight to the mass, and in the fall of a few feet the 
 infant has both weight and momentum. It rapidly picks 
 up and starts larger rocks, sticks, and masses of snow and 
 ice, also quantities of loose snow begin to be sucked into 
 the vacuum caused by the fall, and which follow the mass 
 closely and with ever increasing volume. 
 
 Striking a frozen cascade or watercourse, the mass 
 
 tlides swiftly across the smooth frozen surface, to plunge 
 ownward with a fierce glut of spill and roar, upon a huge 
 snow field, which, lying at an angle of eighty degrees and 
 barely clinging to the face of the mountain, is just ready 
 for something to start it ; a vast pillow of fine, granulated, 
 dry snow, weighing hundreds of tons, and as full of re 
 morseless smother, crush, and stifle, as thousands of bush 
 els of grain bursting the walls of a tide-water elevator and 
 sweeping into the sea. 
 
 Away then, goes the whole mass, plunging, plowing, 
 leaping, rolling, twisting, grinding, and smothering; 
 gathering force, bulk, and velocity with every foot of fall. 
 
 In half a mile, or twenty-six hundred and forty feet, 
 of almost perpendicular fall, it attains a resistless force, 
 whose impact is certain death and destruction to the ob 
 ject it meets; and whose path is the steep slopes of the 
 mountain stretching dizzily down a full mile or more be 
 low in the clouds and mists, smoothed, perhaps, by glacial 
 action, to the polish of a toboggan slide, and over which 
 the White Wolf plunges with frightful velocity, screaming 
 its death song to the helpless landscape below. 
 
 Sometimes a giant crag itself, cracked and split asunder 
 long ago by the dynamic forces of frost and sun, poises 
 just ready to fall ; and as the slide leaps down the moun-
 
 200 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 tain and strikes it with terrific impact, the enormous mass 
 of rock groaning like a wounded giant, slowly starts, and 
 finally tottering, falls with the appalling welter of a shat 
 tered mountain in the wake of the swifter slide. And long 
 after the slide itself has swept into the depths with a fierce 
 expiring roar, the enormous bulk and gigantic splinters of 
 the shattered crag, crunch, batter, grind and pulverize the 
 landscape as they hurl themselves downward with fearful 
 screams and bellowings, to bury themselves with deafen 
 ing thuds and batterings into the howling and groaning 
 muck and ruin of the lower landscape. 
 
 Sometimes these falling crags choke up and block whole 
 streams, forming large dams which cause the waters to rise 
 and back up to form tiny lakes and pools. While occas 
 ionally a stream is turned completely from its course and is 
 forced into a new and more tortutous channel. 
 
 Such are the ways and circumstances of a snow-slide in 
 the central Rocky Mountain region, but more often the 
 snow-slide is started by the vast combs and cornices cling 
 ing to the edges of the topmost cliffs and precipices of the 
 Continental Divide and its parallel ranges, and formed by 
 a steady sweeping northwest wind which blows almost con 
 stantly from September until April. Either in midwinter, 
 early or late spring, from the effects of slight or heavy 
 thaws, an unusually heavy wind,' or from their sheer 
 weight this latter item largely dependent upon the extent 
 of the snowfall of the season which usually attains a depth 
 of from ten to fifteen feet these combs, weighing hun 
 dreds of tons, fall, letting loose horrid elements of death 
 and destruction. In many places among the Great Hills, 
 these slides fall or "run" as the miners say regularly, 
 and the inhabitants of the region, knowing their habits, 
 are prepared for them accordingly. 
 
 This then, is the phenomenon of a snow-slide in the 
 Rocky Mountains. Started by the sheer weight of tiny 
 accumulated snowflakes, it may engulf a whole village. 
 It is the most dreaded, and one of the most common forms 
 of death on the Great Divide. 
 
 The awful Render of beetling crags. 
 
 The ghostly Shroud of the unhappy miner.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 201 
 
 The grim Devastator of the Great Hills. 
 The White Wolf of the Great Divide. 
 
 Fiorina went to the west window and gave a last glance 
 at the dying winter day. The storm 'was undoubtedly 
 breaking. The snow had ceased falling, but the wind was 
 rising and flecking light whiffs of snow from the pine 
 boughs and the slightly crusted drifts, and blowing the 
 loose snow in a wide seething sea. Ugh 1 How it moaned 
 its dismal dirge in the chimney. A faint flush was in 
 the distant west. The first bit of sky color thruout the 
 long winter day. A ribbon of pink flung by the setting 
 sun upon the white tip of the Peak, as the golden ball 
 rolled on its swift way toward Chinaland. 
 
 She looked up at the towering white crags fearfully. A 
 thin curl of smoke was rising from the chimney of Stan- 
 dish's cottage, far up the side of the Emerald. The cot 
 tage itself, almost buried in the deep snow banks, being 
 further identified by the eaves partially visible above the 
 smother of white. Fiorina wondered if a slide could pos 
 sibly come down upon it. The once great forest of coni 
 fers above it had become greatly thinned out during the 
 past few years, the various mines in the vicinity, including 
 the 40 Rounds, having used large quantities of them for 
 timbering. There was still a thin fringe a short distance 
 above the cottage, the valiant spruces tossing their bran 
 ches about in the wild wind seemed utterly defiant of 
 slides and weathef. To the timid fear-struck woman, 
 however, they appeared like mere pipestems. It did not 
 seem to her that they could offer much resistance to a 
 heavy slide. And after darting a last prayerful glance in 
 the direction of the cottage, she pulled down the shade, 
 and, lighting the lamp, she began the supper.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 At midnight Fiorina awoke with a start. She fancied 
 that she had heard a great roar and crash, and a cold 
 sweat suffused her brow. Instantly the master thought 
 came to her Standish. 
 
 Throwing back the heavy coverings of her bed she 
 stepped into her soft warm comforts, and going to the 
 west window raised the shade. The stars were shining 
 brightly. The wind had died down, and the vast solitudes 
 were wrapped in absolute silence save for the rush of the 
 stream over its rocky bed. She looked eagerly toward her 
 lover's cottage. 
 
 " Merci Jesu ! " she exclaimed, reeling back as tho 
 struck with a blow. Recovering herself, she rubbed her 
 eyes and looked again, pressing her cheek closely against 
 the pane in a vain endeavor to distinguish the roof or 
 chimney of the cottage. 
 
 But no, the cottage was positively not there. 
 
 As she started back in wild dismay, the frost on the 
 pane almost tore the skin from her cheek. Nearly expir 
 ing in a paroxysm of fear, with a tumult of agonizing 
 thoughts agitating her, she rushed to wake her grand 
 father in the next room. Reaching his bedside, she hesi 
 tated, stopped, and returned to the window; where, strain 
 ing her vision until her dark eyes fairly started from her 
 head, she endeavored to assure herself that she was not 
 dreaming and the cottage was there. 
 
 But no, there was no mistake, the house had com 
 pletely disappeared. 
 
 Returning to the center of the room, the stars lighting 
 it dimly, she strove to gather her senses, a great horror 
 filling her soul. Then dressing herself rapidly, shaking 
 in an ague of fear, she flung a heavy shawl over her 
 shoulders and pulled on a pair of mittens. After unlock 
 ing the door, she returned for a moment, and taking from 
 
 203
 
 204 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 its place in the front room her image of the Saviour, she 
 placed it in her bosom ; and returning to the front door 
 she stepped softly out in the hitter cold of the ghostly 
 mountain night, leaving her grandfather to his dreams. 
 
 Fiorina never could tell how she reached the site of the 
 Brown cottage. It is a mystery to her as well as to others 
 even to this day. Fairly wallowing waist high in the deep 
 snow drifts as she climbed foot after foot of the steep trail, 
 she often fell at full length. Once she was completely 
 lost to view, swallowed up in a large drift of light snow 
 which had blown into a depression of the trail. Almost 
 overcome by her exertions, she laid half smothered in the 
 suffocating fleece, but finally managed to emerge in safety. 
 By this time a cloud of steam arose from under her shawl, 
 and she was perspiring as freely as tho she was taking a 
 Turkish bath. But thru it all, her eyes were never 
 once taken from the spot where Standish's cottage might 
 by some miracle appear. 
 
 It was fearfully cold. The stillness of the ghostly winter 
 night was appalling. Across the creek a snow-slide came 
 rushing down the slopes of the Castle, falling with a heavy 
 smothered thud into the stream and followed by a long 
 streamer of light snow. A huge rock followed in its wake, 
 filling the gulch with the boom of its resounding blows. 
 " Crash-crash, crack-crack, boom-boom ! " it leaped and 
 rolled, finally smashing into the creek with a last shatter 
 ing roar. Smaller slides were coming down all about her 
 as she struggled forward. But she had no thought of the 
 terrors of the dread slide or of the arctic chill of the winter 
 night. Only the agonizing thought of her lover's fate 
 filled her distracted soul. 
 
 Finally she reached the site of the cottage, but not a 
 board or a splinter; not even a brick of the chimney was 
 left to tell the tale. A great naked gash cut deep in the side 
 of the mountain was the mute evidence of the fatal slide. 
 The former fringe of conifers above the site of the cottage 
 was completely swept away, and only an inch or so of light 
 snow and frost covered the path of the slide where she 
 now stood in silent despair gazing into the depths. Sweep-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 205 
 
 ing it away with her hands she vainly searched for some 
 fragment of the foundation. 
 
 Long she labored there with despairing moans, until 
 holes were worn through her thick mittens and her hands 
 were covered with blood. Above, the great stars gleamed 
 coldly down upon her from the vast vault of heaven, and 
 all about her lay the ghostly fields of newly fallen snow. 
 
 Suddenly she arose from her knees and looked intently 
 downward at the creek where it flowed some five hundred 
 feet below. A great mound of debris was piled up where 
 the slide had fallen into it, and the wild waters were surg 
 ing and gurgling around and over the enormous mass 
 which had so suddenly choked its channel. 
 
 "Merci Jesu! He be dead dead!" she shrieked in 
 despair, taking from her bosom the image. "Yes! It 
 would mark both their graves," she thought, and pressing 
 it to her lips, she prepared to plunge downward toward 
 the cold waters beneath, to die upon the grave of her 
 lover. A calmness came over her as she kissed the image 
 and prayed there in the wilderness of white. Peace- 
 sweet peace, had come to her at last. She would be his 
 bride in death, if not in life. 
 
 Advancing unhesitatingly to take the leap, and stand 
 ing half poised for a moment on the brink, she was 
 startled by something cold being suddenly thrust into her 
 half opened hand. Uttering a little shriek of fear and 
 shrinking back, she discovered it to be the cold muzzle 
 of a dog. 
 
 It was Shep, who immediately leaped up into her lap 
 licking her bruised hands eagerly as she stooped down to 
 embrace him, the beloved pet of her adored. Then, as she 
 crouched there with the faithful animal, she thought. 
 " Had he been carried down in the wreck, and somehow 
 escaped from the ruins?" Suddenly she heard a sound, 
 that proved to be the door of the tunnel banging dismally 
 against the side of the mountain. 
 
 " Could could it be possible that some one was in the 
 mine?" If so, together they might find the ruins of the 
 cottage, and perhaps rescue her lover if he were still alive. 
 Surely if Shep had escaped, there might be some hope
 
 206 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 for Standish. And as Shep had started for the mouth of 
 the tunnel, wallowing heavily in the deep drifts, she fol 
 lowed him, a vague hope lighting up her haggard fea 
 tures. Reaching the tunnel door she peered intently into 
 the long black hole. 
 
 Yes! No! 
 
 Yes, it was gloriously true ! A light was visible, show 
 ing dimly in the far end of the tunnel. It must be the 
 fireman. She felt of the steam pipes which furnished 
 the power to run the hoisting plant in the interior of the 
 mine. They were quite warm, almost too hot for her 
 hand. Yes, it must be the fireman or engineer. But why 
 were they not in the boiler house close by? She would 
 see. 
 
 The boiler house was built, in fact anchored with heavy 
 cables to the mountain, close up under an overhanging 
 ledge to the right of the tunnel entrance, its stack run 
 ning up alongside the sheer wall of the mountain. Going 
 to the door Fiorina timidly opened it and looked in. No 
 one in sight. Entering, she called, but no one answered, 
 tho the fire showed signs of having been banked early in 
 the evening, not later than midnight. Again she entered 
 the tunnel, undoubtedly the engineer or fireman was in 
 the hoisting chamber. 
 
 Speeding down the wet, slimy floor, splashing showers 
 of thin mud on the gray granite walls and on the steam 
 pipes, she reached the huge chamber which had been 
 blasted out of the solid granite at the end of the tunnel 
 for the hoisting machinery which old Peter had promised 
 to instal in the mine just before his death. Looking cau 
 tiously around the corner, she espied a light burning near 
 the great drum around which was wound the steel cable 
 of the hoist. She could see no one, but could hear Shep 
 sniffing and snifling about the steam coil. 
 
 Remaining in the shadow of the drum, she carefully 
 advanced and peeped around it. And there calmly read 
 ing by the light of a candle, with his back close to the 
 warm steam coil, and Billy curled up in a ball at his feet, 
 was her adored, Standish Brown. 
 
 Casting all reserve to the winds, the exhausted, joy
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 207 
 
 crazed maiden rushed toward him, and falling upon her 
 knees, buried her head in his lap, passionately kissing his 
 hands between her sobs of joy. 
 
 " Oh, Meester Brown," she cried breathlessly, as soon 
 as she could speak, "Your house all gone. Slide come 
 down. Down in creek now. I think you gone dead. 
 Climb trail to see. I go down to creek to see you, but 
 Shep he come, lead me here. Ah, Meester Brown, I so 
 happy to see you 'gain. I be so lonesome without you. 
 Why you not come to see me?" 
 
 For answer, the man gathered her up in his arms and 
 pressed her to his breast. Between her sobs she continued 
 brokenly, giving an occasional fierce little shake of her 
 head. 
 
 "You naughty man. You leaf me. Drive me away. 
 Me, your leetle Fiorina. You come back to Plume. You 
 stay 'way from me forever then. Ah, I cry my eyes out 
 'bout you, Meester Brown. I hafe much pride too, Mees 
 ter Brown. I run not after zee man, he must come see 
 me. You, hear?" she added with mock seriousness. Then 
 nestling down into his arms like a tired child, she grew 
 silent. 
 
 After a time she looked up into his silent, serious face 
 which showed dimly in the light of the flickering candle. 
 Their eyes met. His shining in a great glory, hers melt 
 ing in blissful joy. Within his heart was a vast unex- 
 pressible love for this child of Italy. Lifting up her head 
 she pressed her red lips with melting passion upon his 
 mouth, and exclaimed softly: 
 
 " Ah, Meester Brown, I lofe you so. 'Deed I nearly die 
 'bout you. Leetle Fiorina nearly jump into creek and go 
 dead," then her head dropped back upon his arm. 
 
 If there was any lingering doubt in her heart, it was dis 
 pelled the next moment, for speaking at last, he voiced 
 earnestly and tenderly the deep serious language of his 
 heart. 
 
 " Little one. My own sweet little one, Fiorina. I will 
 never leave you again. I will stay with you always. You 
 shall be my own little wife. You and Ferarri shall live 
 with me in a nice new cottage down in Plume, away from
 
 208 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 these terrible slides. You shall have Billy. Shep will live 
 with us. And nothing shall ever part us, little one, save 
 death itself." As he finished, he lowered his head to the 
 joyous eyes and melting lips of the happy maid. Their 
 lips met once more, and their starving love hungering 
 hearts sucked up the sweet juices of flesh. 
 
 For a long time they sat until the candle began to flicker 
 ominously low in the socket. Fiorina was half asleep. 
 Standish rose, and laid her on the bunk by the side of 
 the warm steam coil. Over her he threw a great bear 
 skin, a present from the Colonel. With the cottage swept 
 away, it was the sole remaining article of his household. 
 Fiorina opened her eyes as he placed the robe over her. 
 
 " Go to sleep now, little one," he said, "I will leave Billy 
 and Shep here with you, and go down and tell Ferrari. 
 You have nothing to fear, little one, I will be back soon," 
 and kissing her dark eyes to sleep, he tucked her in under 
 the great warm robe. 
 
 He looked at his watch, three o'clock. Then passing 
 thru the tunnel he stepped forth under the stars. 
 
 Yes, the cottage was gone. The dear old home was 
 swept away. His foreman's timely advice and his own 
 judgment had saved both him and his pets from a ter 
 rible fate. Just before dark he had swept the slopes and 
 crest of the Emerald with his field glasses, also noting the 
 very questionable protection of the thin fringe of spruces 
 above the cottage; he was convinced that the interior of 
 the mine was good enough for him that night, especially 
 as the fireman and engineer were snow bound, and it 
 devolved upon him to keep up the fire under the boiler 
 to prevent the pipes from freezing. 
 
 With the cottage had gone his library and the books 
 of the mine. His heart fairly smote him as he thought 
 of his father's violin swept away. But he had that last 
 precious letter of his tucked safely in his inside pocket 
 next to his heart. And too, the Colonel down in Denver 
 had a piece of granite tipped with the first ore struck in 
 the tunnel. "The Foot of Granite" as it were. He had 
 given it to the Colonel to use as a paper weight. Now that 
 his own specimen was destroyed, he would ask the Col-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 209 
 
 onel for his. It seemed to him that these articles were his 
 most precious treasures, outside of his darling Fiorina. 
 Poor material things to be sure, but did they not represent 
 sentiment, the truest and noblest wealth of life? 
 
 Most of the ore chute which extended down from the 
 mouth of the tunnel to the railroad siding was gone, and 
 two cars of the C. C. & U. had also been swept away, to 
 gether with a considerable stretch of siding. And to this 
 day, showing upon the books of the railroad company in 
 the car accountant's office in Denver, is the following 
 entry : 
 
 "Narrow gage ore cars, Nos. 871 and 492, were swept away 
 by a snow and rock slide from the company's siding at the 40 
 Rounds mine at Plume. Loss, total." 
 
 Not a scrap of the ore chute, the cars, and the cottage, 
 were ever recovered from under the tons upon tons of 
 debris piled up in the bed of the creek. 
 
 As Standish struggled down the trail to Ferrari's, he 
 wondered how in the name of heaven the frail and deli 
 cate Fiorina had ever managed to reach the mine. It was 
 almost a miracle in his eyes. 
 
 "Yes," he thought, "a miracle wrought only by love. 
 God bless her, I have at last come into my own." 
 
 Arriving at Ferrari's, he rapped loudly upon the door. 
 The aged Italian rose quickly, something important must 
 have happened for anyone to rouse him at this untimely 
 hour. 
 
 "Who there?" he asked huskily, opening a crack of 
 the door and shivering in his shirt, with his old purply 
 veined legs half trembling in the cold draught. 
 
 "It's me, Standish Brown," replied the tall miner, 
 and adding good-humoredly as Ferrari admitted him ; 
 "You lazy old Dago, to keep me out in the cold so long." 
 
 Without replying save with a relieved grunt, Ferrari 
 looked hastily in the direction of Fiorina's room, the door 
 of which was ajar. Advancing to shut it, he was amazed 
 to find that her bed was empty, and with instantly clear 
 ing mind, he remembered that he had also found the out 
 side door unlocked. Standish instantly noted the 
 blanched face of the old man and spoke up quickly.
 
 210 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 " Do not fear, good Ferrari, she is safe." The aged for 
 eigner heaved a sigh of relief and started to fix the fire. 
 Then as he got into his clothes, Standish told him the 
 whole story, all save the love part of it. Then nerving 
 himself, he also told that. The old man listened very 
 attentively. Occasionally, his eyes would moisten, but he 
 kept nodding his head approvingly, which greatly assured 
 and comforted the speaker. 
 
 " Ferrari," he said at last. " I love your little one. I 
 want her for my wife. What do you say?" 
 
 For reply, Ferrari went into the front room, and Stan- 
 dish could hear him prowling about among Fiorina's 
 trinkets on the parlor shelf. Presently he returned, softly 
 closing the door. In his hands were two daguerreotypes, 
 set in old-fashioned elaborately carved wooden frames 
 lined with polished copper and old gold plush. Gravely 
 handing one to Standish, he said: 
 
 "Stando, this my wife. I love her dam good. She 
 good, pure, sweet. All same like Virgin Mary. Work like 
 hell for me." Then handing him the second picture, he 
 said, with the same deep and expressive dignity: 
 
 " This my daughter, leetle Fiorina's mother. She good, 
 angel. Both good. Both live in heaven. Way up with 
 Mary. All live together with Jeeza Krista, My leetle 
 Fiorina, she good, too. Dam good. She lova you like 
 hell. All good. By godda, Stando, all good. Good, good. 
 Yes, you taka my leetle babee, Fiorina. I I stay with 
 you?" he added questioningly. 
 
 Standish nodded affrmatively. 
 
 "Good, dam good. When you get married?" 
 
 Standish looked at his watch. 
 
 "If the roads are passable, at four o'clock this after 
 noon," he answered. 
 
 The old Italian burst into a roar of laughter, saying: 
 
 "Ah, saccaree, zip; Italia man, him hot, like fire but 
 Merican man, Jeeza Krista, him devil, all same like hell." 
 
 Then looking at Standish more seriously he added re 
 flectively : 
 
 "Good tho, bully good. Ah, Stando, when zee lova 
 comes, marry queek, scoot, then you no get thin. Geta
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 211 
 
 zee fat on zee rib. Be happy all time. I go get breakfast 
 now. You go get my leetle babee. We all eata here." 
 
 When Standish left Ferrari's it was five o'clock. Slowly 
 he toiled up the trail, Fiorina's, and his own tracks made 
 coming down, helping him considerably. After replen 
 ishing the fire under the boiler, he lighted a candle at the 
 tunnel's mouth and re-entered the mine. Shep greeted 
 him as he entered the hoist chamber by wagging his tail, 
 and Billy blinked his eyes lazily from his warm nest near 
 the steam coil. 
 
 Fiorina was fast asleep. Standish peered down at her 
 beautiful childlike face. It was quite thin now. He had 
 a dim remorseful consciousness, that her precious little 
 heart could have told why the face was thin. He felt 
 ashamed that he had abused the frail beauty by staying 
 away so long. But after he had slain his unholy lust for 
 her, he had felt, even then, too polluted to again seek her 
 pure company. And she had proved herself noble and 
 true to her sex by not seeking him after his return. 
 Thru it all, however, he had felt that in some manner, 
 in some way, the day would come when he could declare 
 his honest, pure love for her. He had ever prayed that 
 it might be so, and now his prayers were gloriously an 
 swered the day had come. 
 
 As he looked down at her he trembled in the excess of 
 his emotions. He knelt beside the bunk where the beauti 
 ful woman slept. Yes, he had passed through the Shadow, 
 he had slain the Beast, and a great, pure, and holy love 
 shone from his eyes. He was gloriously absolved. 
 
 At that moment he became conscious of the near pres 
 ence of a newcomer, and turning, he beheld a face and 
 form strangely familiar to him, which smiled and pointed 
 at the walls of the rocky chamber. Happy is he, who can 
 smile as Standish did at this stranger's appearance. It 
 was Fate, recalling to his mind, that after her cruel denial 
 of him nearly twenty years ago in this same gray vault 
 of the mountain, and cruely tearing from him the hand 
 of Mollie Rpgan, she had now brought him a beautiful 
 bride, the fairest of the fair. He smiled his thanks at her, 
 and the dream form vanished.
 
 212 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Suddenly Fiorina stirred, the long lashes trembled and 
 the dark eyes opened like sun-kissed violets. And there 
 in the soft candle light they looked into the blue depths 
 of her lover's. Reaching up her soft hands she held his 
 face between them and pulling down his head she pressed 
 her lips to his. 
 
 " Mine, all mine. Zee beautiful good man, all mine," 
 she murmured, toying with his chin and pinching his 
 nose as if she were holding some great doll and admiring 
 its waxen beauty. Perfectly, divinely happy, she again 
 pulled down his head, this time, to her bosom. In the 
 embrace she felt the porcelain image of the Saviour press 
 ing against her. Bringing it forth, she pressed her lips 
 to it and mutely handed it to the wondering man. Who, 
 noting for the first time the poor wounded fingers of her 
 dainty hands, which had dug so vainly in the snow for 
 a trace of him, not only pressed his lips to the image but 
 also covered her hands with caresses. 
 
 " Sweet Jesu," she murmured softly, returning the im 
 age to her bosom, "Him Him sava you. Me, too," she 
 added, as she thought of her narrow escape from taking 
 the death leap over the ledge. 
 
 "You, you lofe me?" she continued, pressing her face 
 to his. Standish released himself from her tight embrace 
 and bending over her, said: 
 
 " Ah, they say that love is sweet, Fiorina, but I say that 
 it is heaven, sweet, sweet heaven." 
 
 Her face lighted up at these ardent words. Once more 
 she pulled down his head, and whispering, said: 
 
 "When we get married?" 
 
 " Today, this very afternoon, if we can get to Joetown," 
 was his whispered reply. 
 
 Fiorina seemed to fairly vibrate with the glad words, 
 and releasing him, she said reproachfully, as tho she 
 would long remember his neglect of her: 
 
 " You you naughty, naughty man. You stay 'way so 
 long." 
 
 Then she arose, and they talked and chatted as of yore 
 in the dim candle light until seven o'clock, when they 
 walked down the long tunnel and out of doors.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 213 
 
 Rourke was just coming up the trail. As he reached 
 the site of the cottage he was evidently in a state ol great 
 excitement and concern, for having noted the change in 
 the landscape from the village, he was in great doubt 
 as to whether Standish had taken his advice and was safe 
 in the mine or not. But Standish was waving and calling 
 to him from the mouth of the tunnel, and thus assured 
 he came toward them displaying every symptom of as 
 tonishment at the sight of Fiorina, altho he had noticed 
 the broken trail up the mountain, supposing that it might 
 be Ferrari or some other party investigating the disap 
 pearance of the cottage. 
 
 "Red," said Standish, drawing himself up proudly, 
 "You won't have to keep house for me any more. Allow 
 me the honor of introducing to you the future Mrs. Stan- 
 dish Brown." 
 
 Invariably during Standish's absence from Plume down 
 to Denver or elsewhere, Rourke had looked after his cot 
 tage and household pets, to which circumstance Standish 
 was referring when he alluded to Rourke's keeping house 
 for him. 
 
 Smiling respectfully to Fiorina, the burly miner doffed 
 his cap, and bowing, said: 
 
 " 'Twas well ye took me warnin', Mr. Brown, fer I see 
 the worst has happened," pointing to the great gash in 
 the side of the Emerald. 
 
 "Yes, Red," replied Standish, "with the cottage swept 
 away, you see I have a second reason for dispensing with 
 your services as my housekeeper. Indeed, I think I got 
 a pretty strong hint from the powers that be, to get a 
 wife and a new cottage, and live like a white man in 
 town." 
 
 As Rourke looked up he felt very happy for his em 
 ployer. Fiorina under the excitement and pleasure of 
 the past few hours was very beautiful, and a marvel of 
 blushing color. And as Standish stood there towering 
 beside her, looking down the gulch at the Rowing eost all 
 crimson with the sunrise, he resembled a great lion, who, 
 standing majestically upon some high raised rock of the
 
 214 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 desert with heavy mane tossing in the breeze, proudly de 
 fies all the world to deprive him of his tawny mate who 
 crouches at his side. 
 
 Early that afternoon, Standish took Ferrari and Fiorina 
 down to Joetown, the county seat, in a cutter drawn by 
 four powerful mountain horses. They had quite a souse 
 thru the deep snow, but arrived smiling and happy. 
 Procuring a marriage license, Standish escorted his bride 
 to the parlors of the leading hotel, and they were married 
 by a justice of the peace at four o'clock, the appointed 
 hour.
 
 PART THREE 
 
 THE FIRST PLAYER IN THE 
 
 R6LE WHICH GLORIFIES AN 
 
 ILLUSTRIOUS NATION
 
 BOOK ONE 
 
 THE POT THAT BOILS A MOUNTAIN 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 WHEN Standish Brown went to Denver the first of 
 the year to balance accounts with Colonel Rose, 
 he met with a great surprise. 
 
 "Standish," said the Colonel in a solemn tone which 
 was rather unusual for him, "this will be the last time that 
 I will have the pleasure of settling accounts with you, as 
 today I retire from all active business. Rather guess it's 
 about time don't you think? Sixty years of active life 
 had ought to 'be enough to satisfy most any one, especially 
 when one is the father of competent sons to carry on the 
 business." 
 
 "Well, well, Colonel," replied Standish, almost overcome 
 at this sudden announcement, "I most certainly congratu 
 late you upon your determination to rest upon your well 
 won honors but to be selfish, old boy, what in the deuce 
 am I going to do with all this stuff on my hands?" he 
 added, pointing to the huge bundle of papers lying upon 
 the table which represented his various investments. 
 
 The Colonel smiled good-humoredly over his glasses 
 at his apparently greatly perturbed and bewildered princi 
 pal; 
 
 "Oh, that's easy enough," he replied, "fortunately I am 
 able to recommend a capable party to you, especially as 
 he is my own son, and who will always be in a position 
 to command the old man's help whenever he gets stuck. 
 Oh, John John, please come here a moment," he called, 
 addressing an individual who was apparently busily en 
 gaged at a desk on the opposite side of the room. 
 
 John Charles Rose was two years older than Standish, 
 
 217
 
 218 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 a graduate of an Eastern college, becoming a member of 
 the Colorado bar in 1880. He was a very different nature 
 from that of his father, entirely lacking the frank genial 
 atmosphere of his sire, having inherited the more reserved 
 and haughty disposition of his mother who came of an 
 aristocratic Kentucky family. Standish had riever liked 
 John Charles, altho he had known him since 1883. The 
 presence of the young attorney invariably irritated him 
 whenever he encountered it. He always felt chilled, as 
 if he were intruding himself upon a person who felt him 
 self in every way his superior. Upon rare occasions when 
 they had met, w r hich was almost always in the Colonel's 
 office, they had conversed upon books and current events. 
 But whatever the topic, John Charles displayed a narrow 
 estheticism which completely chilled and silenced the 
 warm tho roughly expressed sentiments of Standish. The 
 lawyer, naturally very precise and methodical, was highly 
 insistent and critical upon pronunciation and derivation. 
 Language was first with him, thought and idea, no matter 
 how original and interesting, was invariably second. 
 
 Standish, forgetting in the warm ardor of his en 
 thusiasm the presence of a self appointed critic, would 
 start to express some interesting thought or sentiment, 
 perhaps of Emerson or Thoreau, both favorites of his, 
 when the ever exacting and insistent John Charles, would 
 check him in the middle of a sentence with a correction 
 on pronunciation, or give vent to a cutting remark upon 
 the poor grammar displayed by the conversationalist. 
 
 John Charles himself, was almost void of intuition, a 
 bigoted disciple of that antiquated school of mental science 
 which refuses to acknowledge intuition as the clearest and 
 most instantaneous reasoning faculty of the mind. A 
 school that can only think by striking its flabby hands 
 upon its thick skull, and thus beating with heavy blows, 
 accepted dogmas into its scanty intellect. Reason, accord 
 ing to John Charles, was a heavy ear splitting convulsion 
 of the brain. If the language was correct in his estima 
 tion, the idea would convulse the brain with a fierce 
 churning motion and end in a dull shattering thud some 
 where in the vast ponderosity of his gray matter with its
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 219 
 
 consequent delivery to and upon the seat of consciousness. 
 But if on the other hand, the language struck him as im 
 perfect, his mental faculties refused to operate. He abso 
 lutely would not try to comprehend the idea, however 
 beautiful or interesting, unless it was couched in a phras 
 ing which pleased his self decreed sense of language. To 
 him the current and often apt and popular American slang 
 was an abomination and a sacrilege. 
 
 Upon one occasion John Charles had asked Standish 
 from what college or institution he had graduated, for in 
 spite of the young miner's crude speech, John Charles 
 detected an honest and interesting flow of thought, and 
 graduation from a school of some sort would be a kind 
 ? of twopenny educational salvation for the delinquent in 
 the young attorney's estimation. But when Standish had 
 unblushingly declared that he had only attended a com 
 mon village school for a couple of terms, the young 
 miner's case was declared hopeless; and John Charles, as 
 a systematic and scientific lawyer, made the following 
 note in a book in which he kept a record of prospective 
 clients, for he was even then preparing for his father to 
 step down and out, and had long had his eyes upon the 
 goodly estate of the Browns : 
 
 " Standish Brown, rough, uneducated, and overgrown miner. 
 Has some knowledge of civil engineering and assaying. Evi 
 dently honest, but too effusive and confiding to ever make a suc 
 cess of life." 
 
 Immediately beneath this notation was another of more 
 recent date, probably added in the knowledge that his 
 father's near retirement would undoubtedly result in 
 Standish accepting the services of John Charles Rose. 
 The additional notation was as follows: 
 
 "Must learn to tolerate his ignorance, and affect good fellow 
 ship in his presence." 
 
 Now it might be interesting to the reader to know that 
 this same John Charles had kept a similar notebook when 
 he was courting his wife. For in keeping with his in-
 
 220 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 variable practice, he had reduced love-making as well as 
 law to an exact science. 
 
 In one instance however, his natural feelings had so 
 far violated his sacred "Code d' Amour," that he had 
 actually embraced his lady a fraction of a squeeze tighter 
 than the date allowed. As it was only the sixty-fifth 
 day of his courting, he had committed the awful breach 
 of administering to her the tightness of embrace which 
 was not permitted until the sixty-ninth day as determined 
 by the code. Indeed, so embarrassed was he upon this 
 occasion, that he did not notice the extreme joy of the 
 young lady at the unexpected fervor of his embrace, but 
 rather, he bitterly reproached himself in the thought that 
 he had violated one of the most sacred tenets of that 
 elaborate code which he had so laboriously compiled from 
 various editions of, "How to Court a Woman," "When to 
 say Yes," "The Revised Edition of Scientific Love Mak 
 ing," and, "Caught in Cupid's Snare." 
 
 However, he did succeed in marrying the poor creature, 
 and many times since in the inner history of their 
 married life, the fearful oppression of the exact, systema 
 tic, just so, John Charles, has nearly driven his good wife 
 to the insane asylum and the rigors of a straight-jacket. 
 
 As the Colonel called his son, a look of mingled doubt 
 and annoyance passed over Standish's face, which in the 
 Colonel's presence he tried desperately to conceal. 
 
 "Standish," said the Colonel, as John Charles stood 
 before them, "I believe that I can heartily recommend 
 my son John to your services in lieu of mine, for he has 
 in fact taken a great deal of the detail of your business 
 off my hands during the past five years and is thoroly 
 familiar with it." 
 
 And as Standish looked up at the Colonel's kindly face, 
 he felt that in spite of his deep reluctance to accept the 
 services of John Charles, he should earnestly consider the 
 recommendation of this faithful friend of both his father 
 and himself. 
 
 " I guess I can stand this cold-blooded cuss for a year," 
 he thought, "but by the eternal, nothing but the love I
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 221 
 
 bear for his dear old father would make me tolerate him 
 for an instant." 
 
 "Yes, Mr. Brown," said John Charles, taking off his 
 glasses and wiping them importantly as he spoke," I 
 would certainly do my best to serve your interests, in case 
 you should honor me with the custody of your affairs as 
 you have done with my father." 
 
 It was difficult for Standish to speak with his ac 
 customed cordiality, but he managed to reply. 
 
 "Very well, John, I will be pleased to accept your ser 
 vices for the ensuing year, and unless you and the Colonel 
 have any objections, upon the same terms which have 
 applied for the past five years." 
 
 Standish could see that the Colonel was greatly pleased, 
 and he himself was comforted by the thought, that altho 
 the old gentleman had proclaimed his retirement, he 
 would nevertheless be a sort of silent guarantee as to the 
 reliability of the son's actions. 
 
 That John Charles was certainly disposed to gain the 
 good graces of his new principal, was plainly evident by 
 a display of the deepest affectation and the blandest of 
 smiles. The prospect of handling a large estate greatly 
 delighted him. It meant income, position, power. It 
 meant close and intimate intercourse with Denver's most 
 substantial citizens, lawyers, press representatives, bankers, 
 corporation directors, etc. And in the pursuit of his long 
 fostered political ambitions, he proposed to follow every 
 thread of acquaintance which the management of this 
 large estate would afford him ; and bind its influence and 
 power to aid him Ah ! sweet thought, perhaps to congress 
 itself. 
 
 Thus from the very beginning, John Charles carried 
 out to the letter, the base hypocrisy of the latest paragraph 
 in his notebook concerning Standish Brown, 
 
 "Must learn to tolerate his ignorance and affect good fellow 
 ship in his presence." 
 
 How it delighted him to work out the perfect scheme 
 of his system. If he had suddenly been deprived of this 
 notebook with its elaborate compilations, he would have 
 been as hopelessly lost as a fish a mile from water. Every
 
 222 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 case in law had its file, every action its number, which 
 was well and customary with every up to date disciple 
 of Blackstone ; but in his case, the same iron bound system 
 permeated every action of his life. Yea, even the kiss 
 which he gave his wife so monotonously methodical just 
 before breakfast, was kiss number so and so on the card 
 index ; representing to him a precious unit of force labor 
 iously acquired, and spent thus lavishly, with often the 
 added expenditure of a deep regretful sigh at the thought 
 of it. 
 
 He could not bear the thought that his wife might 
 become a mother and bear him a child. It would add 
 too much to the already great complexity of his system. 
 Indeed, he was not prepared with his ever increasing busi 
 ness to compile a code by which to rear a child. The very 
 thought of it terrified him. Think of it! The compila 
 tion of a "Code d'Rearing Of Ye Child, The Secret Of 
 Whose Sex Ye Stork Has Not Informed Ye Prospective 
 Parent." Horrors! The terrible event would require a 
 double code. For altho he had reduced almost everything 
 else to a system, he could not as yet forecast nature, and 
 determine whether the stork would deliver a boy or a 
 girl, or perhaps both. 
 
 So as John Charles bowed, smiled, and played his part 
 with excellent skill as he talked over a few items with 
 his new principal, the sensitive doubting soul of Standish 
 shrank from the affectation and hypocrisy of the creature, 
 and he prepared himself for that inevitable denoument 
 which he felt was merely a matter of time.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A few hundred feet from the banks of the South Platte 
 river, and within the boundaries of the city of Denver, 
 rises an enormous smokestack. 
 
 It is one of the tallest chimneys in the world. 
 
 It is the sulphur-fumed, poison-spouting mouth of a 
 mile or more of brick and steel flues, so large that a 
 coach and four with the driver seated on top, could be 
 driven the entire length, and then be lifted up bodily 
 thru the huge diameter of the chimney itself. 
 
 Within the cavernous soot-reeking recesses of these 
 gigantic flues and this towering stack, a process of money 
 making is going on that is astounding; for by straining, 
 sifting, dampening, and manipulating the smoke and 
 vapor which passes thru this bewildering maze of flue and 
 pipe, gold precious gold is extracted, and prevented from 
 passing out at the mouth of the huge stack in the form 
 of smoke and vapor. 
 
 Years of patient tests and experiment have taught the 
 smelterman, that many thousands of dollars worth of 
 precious gold passes away from the smelting furnaces in 
 the form of vapor, unless preventive steps are taken. 
 Hence this wilderness almost miles of smoke straining, 
 gold extracting pipe and flue, culminating in this lofty 
 sky-scraping smokestack. 
 
 This colossal chimney is three hundred and fifty-five 
 feet high, and with the single exception of the State 
 Capitol building, is the most prominent point in Denver. 
 Formerly this stack was the pride and wonder object of 
 the Missouri and Colorado Smelting Co., which corpora 
 tion having later been fed into the maw of the Smelter 
 Trust, was now extinct; and its former plant was now 
 known merely as "Plant B," of that giant smelter corpora 
 tion which owns and operates dozens of smelting plants, 
 
 223
 
 224 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 all of greater or less capacity than the one thus situated 
 on the banks of the peaceful Platte. 
 
 A Smelter.* 
 
 A thing which feasts upon the rich ore of the Great 
 Hills. A vast fiery throat, to feed which the miner is 
 pulling down the mountains. 
 
 What will man not attempt under the spell of a mighty 
 passion, and that passion GOLD ! 
 
 The Mountains! 
 
 The Pillars of the World! 
 
 Yet the brawny miner pulls them down remorselessly, 
 to crowd and glut the smoking jaws of that fiery dragon 
 the SMELTER! 
 
 The miner digs the crude raw ores from the mountains. 
 
 The smelterman extracts the various metals and by 
 products from those ores. 
 
 Thus their work is entirely different. 
 
 One drills, blasts, and burrows in a damp dark hole. 
 
 The other, steams and sweats as he plies and thrusts 
 long rods and shovels into a vast fiery pot. 
 
 A smelter is, A POT THAT BOILS A MOUNTAIN! 
 
 During the long years that followed his departure from 
 Plume, Theodore Dodge had gradually ceased to be a 
 miner. Immediately following their first success in min 
 ing in the properties of the Sampson-Smith, Thomas 
 Bayard and his young associate had given that precarious 
 business a very careful investigation, in order that they 
 might become masters of the handling and marketing of 
 
 NOTE. Jerome C. Smiley, who wrote an elaborate history of 
 Denver, has this to say regarding the difficulty of describing a 
 smelter: "The present advanced stage of this advancing art of 
 arts is the result of years of scientific study and experiment, 
 therefore, the writer confesses that an undertaking on his part 
 to convey to other laymen an intelligible description or outline 
 of the varied processes, would be too much like the blind trying 
 to lead the blind for the attempt to find justification." 
 
 Altho Mr. Smiley has in the above statement placed a severe 
 handicap upon the possibility of a lay writer successfully con 
 veying to his reader an anywhere near comprehensible idea of a 
 smelter, yet the smelting business, next to mining, is so promi 
 nently and distinctly Colorado's most wonderful industry; and is 
 indeed, as Mr. Smiley well implies, one of the most wonderful of 
 arts, that the author trusts that if he has made a failure of con 
 veying at least a general idea of a smelter to his reader, he has 
 failed in a good cause, and one worthy the hand of a master.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the precious white and yellow products of the Great HilLj. 
 
 They soon arrived at one hard indisputable fact, viz., 
 
 That the smelterman is the one party who actually 
 controls the ore products of the Great Hills. 
 
 To be merely a miner, even a mine owner, is to be 
 more or less the slave of the smelterman. 
 
 Comparatively speaking, to be a smelter magnate, is 
 to be a Prince. 
 
 And to be the head of a Smelter Trust or combination, 
 is to be an absolute CZAR. 
 
 The smelterman is to the mining industry, what the 
 refiner is to the oil business. 
 
 In him rests absolute supremacy. 
 
 He is the great X. X. X. 
 
 The royal IT ! 
 
 The secret of this is, that the smelterman is the only 
 party who offers the miner a market for his ore, therefore 
 the miner must necessarily submit to his terms. If the 
 smelterman chooses to drive a hard bargain, what can the 
 miner do ? Nothing, but accept the terms however onerous 
 they may be. Of course there are exceptions to this rule, 
 but to the great majority, the small hand-to-mouth pro 
 ducers, it is absolutely true. 
 
 It costs a large amount of money to build and equip 
 a smelter. Considerable more than the combined value 
 of several good mines. Then in addition to the large 
 capital invested, it requires genius and knowledge of 
 many valuable trade secrets to operate it successfully. 
 
 In fact it is one vast labyrinthal laboratory, in which 
 almost every process is more or less an experiment, even 
 the most regular requiring eternal vigilance. 
 
 Perhaps one particular ore has been subjected to hun 
 dreds of tests in order to overcome its refractoriness. 
 Smelting processes often represent the com'bined efforts 
 and patient tests and experiments of generations of 
 chemists. 
 
 Then after the art has been mastered and the product 
 brought forth, there is the great question of market, for 
 gold is perhaps the only metal of the many metals, 
 minerals, and by-products produced from the ores, which
 
 226 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 by reason of its unit of value, can command a steady 
 market and thus be in demand at all times. To dispose 
 of the balance of the product, which is many times in' 
 excess of the gold produced, requires a world-wide organi 
 zation. So in the face of all these obstacles and endless 
 details, the miner is at the mercy, to a great extent, of the 
 smelterman. 
 
 One day Thomas Bayard said to Theodore Dodge, 
 
 "You learn the smelting business, Theo, and I'll raise 
 the capital to build and operate a first-class plant." 
 
 Dodge agreed, and both men kept their word, but it 
 was not until after several years of ceaseless toil and ex 
 periment that their united efforts resulted in the con 
 struction and operation of "Plant B." 
 
 Let us go thru this plant. 
 
 First, to the assay office, for it is the key to the entire 
 plant, and for the following reasons : 
 
 At the various mining centers and camps of Colorado 
 the smelters employ purchasers of ore. 
 
 For instance, a mine operator has turned out a ship 
 ment of ore and wants to sell. Both the smelter's repre 
 sentative and the mine operator take a sample of the ore 
 and have it assayed. If they agree upon the assay value, 
 the ore is then purchased by the smelter at this value 
 less the transportation charges on the shipment from the 
 mine to the smelting plant, and also nominal charges 
 for the treatment of the ore by the smelter. 
 
 If they cannot agree upon the value of the ore from 
 their own assays, they select a third party, or referee, who 
 also makes an assay; and generally both parties abide by 
 his decision if it does not differ too much from their own 
 figures. 
 
 After the ore say a carload is purchased iii this man 
 ner, it eventually reaches the smelter, and, together with 
 scores of other cars of ore and material it is switched upon 
 one of the plant's many yard tracks. 
 
 Samples of the ore in this car are then taken to the 
 smelter's local assay office and assayed, the result being 
 carefully compared with the original assays made at the 
 time of purchase. This final assay is also so conducted
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 227 
 
 that it not only checks the correctness of the purchase 
 price, but also determines the character of the ore, and in 
 what manner it is to be treated in order to economically 
 and successfully extract the precious metals and minerals 
 which it contains. 
 
 This assay test consists of pulverizing a small sample of 
 the ore to a powder somewhat finer than fine sand. This 
 dust is then placed in a small earthen pot or crucible, 
 which is put in a furnace and the temperature raised to a 
 high degree. The metals contained in the dust melt and 
 form a small button in the bottom of the crucible, the 
 refuse and ashes, being lighter than the metals, rise to the 
 surface. The crucible is then removed from the fur 
 nace, the refuse is knocked off, leaving the metal button 
 intact. 
 
 This button, which contains all of the metals of the 
 ore alloyed together, is then treated in various ways in 
 order to determine exactly how much gold, silver, copper, 
 lead, zinc, etc., is contained in the sample. 
 
 The assaying process and test is almost perfect, is, in 
 fact, an exact science. And upon its decree thousands of 
 tons and hundreds and hundreds of carloads of ore are 
 purchased and smelted with absolute confidence. Tho 
 it is comparatively easy to determine the values in the 
 ore, yet to determine the best manner of treating the ore 
 in the smelter itself, is often the subject of an interminable 
 number of tests and experiments ; for ore not only differs 
 according to the mining district in general in which it 
 is mined, but it often varies in each individual mine of 
 the same district, and also in different localities of the 
 same mine. 
 
 Thus, one lot of ore may require a certain roasting 
 process in order to eliminate the sulphur with which it is 
 heavily impregnated, and which must be removed from 
 the ore before it can safely be put in the blast furnace; 
 while another lot may require melting by itself and a 
 certain refractoriness removed before it is of the required 
 consistency and texture to be handled by the blast. Still 
 another lot may require crushing to the fineness of sand or 
 gravel in order to be properly prepared for the blast, or
 
 228 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 another may be treated in tanks of chemicals for some 
 object unknown to the layman. Thus in many ways 
 the various ores are treated in order to prepare them for 
 final reduction, arid every process is the result of the rigid 
 experiments of the assay office. 
 
 Having investigated the supreme function of the as- 
 sayer, the next step is to the great furnace room of the 
 smelter itself. From observing the ore treated as mere 
 handfuls of dust in a tiny crucible the size of a small tea 
 cup, now its treatment is in quantities of hundreds of tons 
 as it is fed into the blast furnaces. 
 
 See, here are huge stacks of the rich ore of the Great 
 Hills, of which some, perhaps, has run red with the life- 
 blood of the miner. Here in this mound, blasted from 
 the bowels of the earth, are ores from old Mexico, Ari 
 zona, Chili, Peru, Nevada, Utah, British Columbia, Idaho, 
 Alaska, New Mexico, Wyoming, and from dozens of the 
 nearby mining districts of Colorado; each and every one 
 of them different from the other to a greater or less de 
 gree, and every one the mute witness of the appalling 
 metamorphosis of the smoking mountains of prehistoric 
 ages. 
 
 Eventually, finally, all these various ores, gathered 
 from perhaps a hundred different sources, find their way 
 to the great mixing floor of the furnace room, the floor 
 itself taking up the entire ground area of a large edifice 
 of brick, stone and steel ; and is placed upon a level with 
 the mouths of several huge blast furnaces, which roar and 
 scream like so many maddened dragons in the terrible 
 play of Vulcan's flaming fires. 
 
 ' As the dark forms of the sweating workmen, with the 
 aid of a system of massive iron weights, swing open the 
 huge steel doors of the furnaces, and empty the contents 
 of many wheelbarrows into the sulphurous depths below, 
 the imprisoned hell fires leap out and coil up, like vast 
 writhing reptiles whose bodies are black smoke and whose 
 tongues red flame. 
 
 FLUX! 
 
 This is the great cry of the smelterman. 
 
 Flux eternally flux !
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 229 
 
 By this term is meant the substance or mixture used to 
 promote and insure the fusion of the metals and minerals 
 \yholly free from the slag or waste matter. 
 
 It must be so perfect as to gather and run every parti 
 cle of the precious metals and minerals into one perfect 
 molten mass separate from and wholly unmixed with the 
 slag. While in addition to this, it must be so constituted as 
 to keep the furnaces clean and unclogged; and so per 
 fect has this process become, that furnaces are kept burn 
 ing for years at a time without once allowing their fires 
 to go out. 
 
 Thus every faculty and best endeavor of the smelter- 
 man is concentrated upon the proper mixing of the flux 
 ing substance and the balance of the contents of these 
 blast furnaces, which united effort is summed up in that 
 magic word flux! 
 
 As conclusive evidence of this master effort of the 
 smelterman, note the mathematical exactness with which 
 one of these flaming monsters is fed. 
 
 At one end of the furnace room is a huge pile of ore. 
 It contains perhaps a hundred carloads of different kinds, 
 carefully deposited in layers, one upon the other like 
 a huge layer cake, done by dozens of men wheeling them 
 in barrows from the railroad cars outside. And at this 
 opportune time, the different layers of ore, show the 
 marvel of Nature's wonderful pigments and dyes. Here 
 a few inches of salmon pink, there a foot of deep yel 
 low chrome. Here a streak of raven black, there a 
 splash of dull brown. Here several inches of bright scar 
 let, there a pinch of indigo. Next a wide ribbon of steel 
 gray edged with deep purple, and so on up to the full 
 height of eight or ten feet, one notes layer after layer 
 of glorious soft pastel colors, the rich and varicolored offal 
 of the Great Hills. 
 
 Here comes a barrow man for a load. As he shovels 
 the ore into the barrow, the different layers fall down, 
 mixing with automatic perfection. Yet this is only a 
 mere part of the elaborate mixing process necessary to a 
 successful flux. 
 
 After filling the barrow, the laborer then 'wheels his
 
 230 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 load to the edge of the furnace floor, resting it for a 
 moment upon the platform of a set of scales placed in 
 and upon a level with the floor. If the scale needle 
 points to the required weight as set by the foreman under 
 the direction of the assayer, he goes on to the furnace and 
 dumps his load upon a steel platform. If not, he thrusts 
 a shovel into the contents of the barrow and throws 
 off enough to make the correct weight, or adds from a 
 nearby pile if his load is too light. 
 
 He is followed by another man with a barrow of 
 limestone, then another follows with a load of ore that 
 has been previously roasted or otherwise specially treated, 
 and still others follow, ad infinitum, with barrows of 
 various other ingredients necessary to make up the re 
 quired charge. And all of these different barrow loads 
 having being carefully weighed, are dumped upon the 
 same steel platform at a level with the mouth of the fur 
 nace. 
 
 At one side of the furnace door is an iron track over 
 which are constantly moving small steel cars filled with 
 coke, and which dump their contents upon the same 
 platform with unvarying regularity. 
 
 Suddenly a dark form opens the door of one of the 
 furnaces, and amid the angry roar of the blast and the 
 lurid glare of the flames, the dark figure which is now 
 shadowed as a giant upon the ceiling by the leaping red 
 flames, shovels in the ore, the coke, the limestone, and 
 the balance of the charge in exact proportions. 
 
 In this manner these huge furnaces are fed at the 
 top every few moments with full charges, while within 
 them is directed a fierce blast of air driven by a pow 
 erful plant of machinery. This terrific draught of air, 
 driven furiously upon the flaming masses of coke, lime 
 stone, etc., subjects the ores to a heat so terrible, that they 
 are soon compelled to release their precious hoards, which 
 discharge themselves in a molten mass in a deep recep 
 tacle at the bottom of the furnace fifteen or twenty feet 
 below. 
 
 At this point are other figures sweating in the flames 
 which have now taken on deep yellow and electric green
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 231 
 
 hues from the different chemicals in the roasting ores 
 and who are drawing from the lower or bottom end 
 of the furnaces, the molten product which has been fed 
 to the flames far above in the form of apparently cold 
 and lifeless matter. 
 
 This sweating, steaming brood of Vulcan is engaged 
 in running fiery liquids into various pots and moulds. 
 The waste matter or slag running out of one vent, and the 
 precious metals themselves, bubbling up at another vent 
 beneath, for the metal being heavier than the slag, sinks 
 below it, and is extracted from time to time at a vent in 
 the side of the furnace and poured into moulds. 
 
 The men who feed the furnaces above do not see their 
 brothers who handle the slag and molten metal below, 
 being separated from them by the thick floor of the 
 furnace room, and they ply their labors entirely obli 
 vious of each other. 
 
 A long flight of stairs decends to this lower region, and 
 lands upon the wide pavement of the slag and matte 
 area, "matte" being the term applied to the metal as it 
 runs molten from the furnaces and is poured into the 
 moulds and cooled. The floor of the furnace room 
 above forms the ceiling of this lower region for a few 
 feet directly over the furnaces, the balance of the area 
 being wholly open to the sky, and the whole area de 
 voted to the handling of the fiery product of the furnaces. 
 
 At regular intervals the wad of clay which closes 
 the slag vent is dexterously removed by the point of 
 a long rod wielded by the foreman, and instantly a 
 scarlet, angrily hissing, sulphurous flame leaps forth, 
 followed by a fiery, spark-emitting flood of slag, which 
 flows with a sharp rattling hiss into a large steel pot 
 trunioned upon a low two-wheeled iron truck. "When 
 this pot is nearly filled, the foreman stops the slas: 
 vent with a fresh wad of wet clay placed upon the end 
 of another but differently shaped rod. While he is en 
 gaged in tamping the vent to his satisfaction, his as 
 sistant wheels away the pot of boiling slag, and tips it 
 into an enormous vat called the "settler." This vat 
 is sunk deep into a metal pit in the pavement, bringing
 
 232 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the mouth of the settler upon a level with the floor. Other 
 men wheeling other slag pots come to the edge of this 
 vat, and likewise empty their burden of this flaming 
 molten juice of the mountains into the gaping maw 
 of the settler. 
 
 Presently when the great vat is filled, a huge travel 
 ing crane lifts it high in the air, suspending it up 
 right over a slightly smaller vat, which is fastened upon 
 a car resting upon a small track. Then a workman 
 wielding a long rod suddenly knocks off the lump of 
 clay which closes a hole in the side of the settler, and 
 thru which vent the greater portion of its fiery contents 
 are drained into the pot upon the car, which was cast 
 to hold exactly that amount. 
 
 The car is then hauled away by a diminutive locomo 
 tive and soon its contents are dumped over the slag 
 pile at the end of the track, where the fiery flood goes 
 roaring and hissing down into the valley of the Platte, 
 rolling up a great sheet of smoke and flame. 
 
 One day at this same Plant B, a high wind drove the 
 sulphurous fumes of the molten rock suddenly upward 
 into the face of the engine driver, who, overcome 
 by the poisonous gases, pitched forward into the fearful 
 flood of fire to a terrible death. The only trace that was 
 ever found of him after the slag cooled sufficiently to 
 permit an examination, was a charred trunk, a few 
 metal buttons, a bunch of keys, and the steel blades of 
 his pocket knife. 
 
 Now the huge vat or settler which was drained of the 
 main portion of its contents, still contains quite a 
 quantity in its sulphurous depths; and is again carried 
 on by the crane to be suspended over a smaller pot also 
 placed on wheels. It is then tapped of the remainder 
 of its contents at another vent considerably lower than 
 where it was tapped before. 
 
 This time however, the molten matter emits a green 
 ish yellowish flame instead of the intense scarlet gleam 
 of the former tap. This is because there is a small quan 
 tity of the precious metal itself contained in this tap, 
 and which also explains why it is thus drawn off, and
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 233 
 
 also why the huge suspended vat from which it is drawn 
 is called the "settler." For the small amount of metal 
 which has come from the furnace mixed with the slag, 
 and which is much heavier than the slag, has settled 
 to the bottom of the vat, and is thus drawn off and saved. 
 
 The object of the smelterman is, not to lose the small 
 est fraction of the precious metal if it can by any means 
 be avoided. Having exercised such scrupulous care thru- 
 out the balance of the smelting process he does not pro 
 pose to lose a single cent in this last act of drawing off 
 the slag. The pot which was filled with its valuable 
 charge from the bottom of the settler, is next wheeled 
 put upon a platform for its contents to cool, after which 
 it is dumped, the charge broken up by skdge-hammers, 
 and then carted or trammed up to the furnace room to 
 again go thru the blast. 
 
 After the settler has been emptied of its contents, 
 it is carried still further on by the crane and turned 
 upside down, while workmen insert rods and break up 
 the shallow crust which has formed on the inside next 
 the sides ;. when it is thus cleaned, it is then carried back 
 to its receptacle to receive another fiery charge, its twin 
 mate having been filled in the meantime to undergo 
 the same operation. 
 
 The metal itself, a white silvery fluid, almost entirely 
 free from the slag, is dipped by an attendant with a 
 ladle, from a vent in the side of the furnace and poured 
 into a series of steel moulds set upon a low bench, and 
 which are about the size of a five-pound brick of cheese. 
 
 To the rear of the furnace, next to the wall of one of 
 the great flues, is a tiny track upon which travels a low 
 wheeled car pushed by a stout workman, who, stopping 
 the car at the furnace, knocks the bars smoking hot 
 out of the moulds and loads them upon the platform of 
 the car. 
 
 From furnace to furnace the car is filled with the oars, 
 and finally pushed to a low frame barn of a structure built 
 farther out upon the slag area and over a gigantic kettle. 
 This kettle is partially filled with the bars, which being 
 remelted here, form the same kind of molten metal
 
 234 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 as was previously ladled from the furnaces, and the bare 
 are all remelted here in this monster kettle, in order 
 to remove the impurities and slag which have slightly 
 mixed with the metal in its original passage thru the 
 blast furnace. 
 
 A few feet below a workman is shoveling coal upon 
 a fierce fire burning beneath the kettle. Closing the 
 fire door he ascends a short flight of stairs, and both 
 he and the workman who gathered the bars at the fur 
 naces, remove the bars from the car and slide them one 
 at a time over the edge and into the kettle. Such is the 
 dense specific gravity of the molten sea, that the bars 
 do not drop with a splash, but slide slowly down the 
 side of the kettle and disappear beneath the surface of 
 the cyclopean stew with a dull metallic chug. 
 
 Oh, that it were possible to adequately describe the mag 
 nificent display of color showing in the scum and crust 
 of this vast soup bowl of melted mountains. 
 
 Above, in the furnace room, the layers of crude ores 
 possessed the soft pastel colors. But in the scum and 
 surface of this great kettle, are the most wondrous daubs 
 and streaks of every imaginable color under the sun, 
 and all of which are now flowed in as with rich heavy 
 oils. 
 
 Glittering and shimmering upon the surface of this 
 fearful pottage of the Great Hills, is the color essence 
 of countless sunsets, of eons of matchless sunrises; and 
 the celestial hues of every cloud since the dawn of cre 
 ation, are here reproduced in every conceivable shade 
 and combination. 
 
 As the attendant dips his huge steel skimming ladle 
 into this steaming brew, one can almost believe, as the 
 gorgeous scum ripples in its stiff metallic flow, that all 
 the colors of the sun, moon, and stars; and the cloud 
 color play and revel of the world, yea, of the universe 
 itself, have been absorbed by these wonderful ores, and 
 here coaxed out again in molten nakedness by the sooty 
 brood of Vulcan, to delight the eye of man. 
 
 Ah I Nature! 
 
 Thou matchless, incomparable color-monger.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 235 
 
 Here them showest the pale azure draperies of rosy 
 dawn. The deep scarlet waistcoat of the setting sun. 
 The purple robes of evening. 
 
 If an artist should behold this wonderful sight un 
 warned, he would faint in a convulsion of delight. 
 
 At the sight of this unspeakable combination of color, 
 a man throws himself prostrate at the feet of God; 
 a woman with an artist's eye for color trembles as at the 
 birth of a son. The entranced vision seems to stretch as 
 a flash of light from the virgin world emerging misty and 
 bridal-veiled from Chaos, to the last Judgment; with 
 the world and its sins bursting into flames at the com 
 mand of an avenging and destroying God. 
 
 For one moment you are poised on the brink of heaven, 
 scanning the secrets of creation as an open book; the 
 next, you are shutting out the forbidden spectacle with 
 sweat-dripping fingers shielding blinded folly-cursed 
 eyes, and moaning in the despairing agony of mere 
 mortal flesh. From a spirit you have become a clod. 
 
 But to return. Gradually as the great kettle is filled 
 with the bars from the constant stream of cars which 
 keep coming with undiminished supply, its huge belly, 
 which holds hundreds of the bars, threatens to spill 
 over the sides; at which spectacle the attendant sounds 
 a whistle of warning, and several workmen come run 
 ning to assist him. Seizing several large iron ladles, or 
 skimmers, which are perforated with holes half an inch 
 in diameter, they proceed to skim off the heavy scum 
 much as one skims cream from a pan of milk, and load 
 it into a waiting cart to be carried up to the furnace 
 room to again go thru the blast. This item being but 
 another evidence of the wonderful economv of the smel- 
 terman. In course of time, this very building, yea, the 
 very floor beneath the workmen's feet, will be put into 
 the blast furnace, to deliver into the smelter magnate's 
 coffers the precious soots and grains of gold and silver 
 which have been absorbed an$ sifted into its cracks and 
 pores. 
 
 The scum is very heavy. The workmen steam and sweat 
 prodigiously from their exertions. Even the tiniest piece
 
 236 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of this metallic crust falls with a heavy thud, indicating 
 its enormous weight and density. 
 
 Presently, with the gorgeous scum removed, a perfectly 
 lustrous beautiful pool of shining silver is revealed, which, 
 absolutely flawless, shines as a burnished silvery moon, 
 without a speck upon its dazzling surface to mar the su 
 perb effect. 
 
 A steel syphon is then inserted in the silver flood, the 
 heavy metal pipe of which floating as lightly upon the 
 heavier liquid metal as a piece of cork upon a pond. 
 The molten brew is then run off thru the syphon into 
 small steel moulds. The bars cool in a few moments 
 sufficient to permit handling with thick gloves, and are 
 then loaded by the workmen as so many common brick, 
 into the railroad freight cars standing upon a nearby 
 siding. 
 
 From two to four of these cars are shipped daily from 
 Plant B to a point on the Missouri river, at which point 
 is located one of the great refining plants of the American 
 Smelter Co. 
 
 Here the bars go thru an elaborate refining and sep 
 arating process, whereby the lead, copper, gold, silver, 
 zinc, and all the other numerous metals, minerals, and 
 by-products which are contained in them, are separated 
 into their individual quantities and units; after which 
 final process of the great art of metallurgy, the various 
 products are placed upon the markets of the world thru 
 the different selling agencies of the corporation, which 
 branch of the business alone employs a large army of ex 
 perts, and which calls for the closest study of the whole 
 world's markets, and the ability and capital to manipulate 
 and meet the market from China to England, involving 
 the mints and metal markets of every nation on the globe. 
 
 Day and night, month after month, year after year, 
 the huge furnaces of Plant B are kept fed and burning, 
 for this devouring battery of mountain melters has never 
 yet quit its fires. 
 
 The fiery juice of the Great Hills never ceases its flow, 
 and the red slag goes unceasingly over the dump, de 
 vastating and crusting over large tracts of land pur-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 237 
 
 chased for that purpose by the smelting management; 
 to later, perhaps many years from now, swell the coffers 
 of the Trust by being sold as ballast and road material to 
 the different railroads and municipalities at a generous 
 figure per car, while the land which it covers will com 
 mand a greatly increased figure as valuable real estate. 
 
 This slag crust is from ten to twenty feet deep, and at 
 the present time extends over a few acres of what was once 
 a beautiful orchard. As the great dump pot discharges its 
 hell fires over the dump, and they surge horribly down 
 ward, they engulf the beautiful orchard trees one by one, 
 their poor helpless trunks bursting the thin bark in blis 
 tering agony as the fire gradually creeps toward them, 
 and when the slag finally reaches them, they burst into 
 flames and are consumed where they stand. Beholding 
 this tragedy of the trees, one almost screams as tho wit 
 nessing the destruction of human life. 
 
 Hundreds of workmen are employed at Plant B. The 
 work being divided into two shifts of twelve hours each, 
 the day and the night. Twelve hours of incessant back- 
 breaking labor amid the deadly fumes of the furnaces, 
 causing, it- is said, numerous ailments among the work 
 men, among which the absorption of arsenic and other 
 poisons into the system thru the pores of the skin from 
 the fumes of the melting, roasting ores, is said to be ul 
 timately fatal. 
 
 The stolid, expressionless faces of these men reveal the 
 ever-grinding monotony of their lives, but apparently 
 they, as well as many others of the vast rank and file of 
 labor, must be content for the time in the knowledge that 
 their arduous toil at least provides food and shelter for 
 themselves and families. 
 
 Surrounding the great plant on all sides are the tiny 
 cottages of the workmen, the long hours making a nearby 
 residence almost imperative. Nearby, too, is a large, pub 
 lic school, and these toiling smeltermen can almost hear 
 the laughter and prattle of their children as they romp in 
 the school yard at recess. Perhaps as these sons of toil 
 sweat and steam in the hot breath of the furnaces, they are 
 possessed of the hope that their children shouting so joy-
 
 238 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ously at play, may learn to emancipate themselves from 
 the long hours of the unhealthy, poorly paid work which 
 sets so heavily upon their afflicted fathers.* 
 
 In addition to the hundreds of laborers employed in 
 the actual operation of Plant B, and as a further instance 
 of the enormous ramifications of the Smelter Trust, it is 
 well to note that the management employs hundreds of 
 miners in the coal mines; scores of quarrymen quarry 
 ing limestone among the foothills of the Rockies; whole 
 colonies of workmen feeding scores of coke ovens; and 
 dozens of train crews operating the many trains neces 
 sary for the transportation of this material. 
 
 Truly Plant B is a great employer of labor. 
 
 Yet it is only one of the many similar holdings of the 
 American Smelter Co. And even this great plant is 
 rapidly deteriorating, such is the rapid advance of new 
 methods and machinery.! 
 
 Verily, as we witness the daily production of these 
 hundreds of bars of precious metal, we have before us 
 the absolute living proof of the fabulous wealth of the 
 Great Hills. 
 
 All hail! Colorado! 
 
 All hail ! The Golden West ! 
 
 *NOTE. Since the above was written, in 1903, the author 
 understands, that several months previous to the election of 1906, 
 the Republican party, whose nominees for the state legislature 
 were said to be pledged to Simon Guggenheim, a smelting magnate 
 at that time, for his election to the Senate of the United States, 
 succeeded in influencing the smelter interests of the state to 
 place their employees upon an eight hour^asis. Thus the smelter 
 employee has, at least as far as hours are concerned, come info 
 his own, at which change the author greatly rejoices. 
 
 fNOTE. In confirmation of this statement, it was but two 
 years after the above was written, that during a great strike of 
 the workmen employed in Plant B, they deliberately abandoned 
 the furnaces, causing them, as it is termed in smelting parlance, 
 to "freeze"; which means that the furnaces no longer being fed, 
 the blast ceasing with the cessation of the machinery, and the 
 slag and molten metal no longer being removed, the entire con 
 tents of the furnaces cooled and solidified. Which circumstance 
 caused the entire loss of the furnaces, as they would have to De 
 completely wrecked in order to remove the tons and tons of 
 solid slag and metal solidified or "froze" within them. As the 
 smelter management had under construction elsewhere one or 
 more modern smelters at this time, they refused to rebuild or 
 modernize Plant B. And today this once teeming hive of industry 
 is gradually falling to decay under the stress of wind and weather, 
 and its great smokestack now stands mute and vaporless o'er 
 the crumbling ruins.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 239 
 
 Sound ear-splitting salvos in honor of the great im 
 measurable, incomparable Rockies. 
 
 Brother plainsmen, salute the white towers of the Great 
 Divide, for they bring the people gold and silver to buy 
 your wheat and produce. 
 
 Brother seamen, waft homage to the white wings of 
 snow, that furnish commerce for the white wings of sail. 
 
 Fellow countrymen, vociferously applaud the snow-cov 
 ered roof of our American continent, for it is the roof 
 of a world's Liberty Hall. 
 
 And you, worshippers of God and His handmaiden 
 Nature, every where, reverently bow down to the eternal, 
 soul inspiring, heaven-kissed, Rocky Mountains.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 In 1898, Thomas Bayard, in his capacity as president 
 of the Missouri and Colorado Smelting Co., began to ex 
 perience innumerable difficulties in disposing of smelter 
 products. Also in the purchase and delivery of supplies 
 he began to touch mysterious elements of annoyance and 
 resistance that he had never encountered before. 
 
 Finally, as a climax to his increasing perplexities, he 
 was confronted with an alarming increase in transporta 
 tion charges of various railroads, which caused him to in 
 terview the managers of the several national railroads 
 which had their general offices in Denver. 
 
 These managers had no difficulty in suavely pointing 
 out several reasons as to why their respective companies 
 were justified in thus surreptitiously increasing their tar 
 iffs; but afterwards, when Bayard dwelt in detail upon 
 the substance of his conversations with them, he felt 
 that he had again come in contact with that same strange 
 and mysterious element of resistance, of whose petty an 
 noyances he had of late become alarmingly conscious, 
 for in spite of the reasons advanced by the blandly smil 
 ing managers, they seemed shallow and evasive. 
 
 In hopes of relief, however, he began to watch and sys 
 tematically note the moves and operations of his com 
 petitors, both in Denver and thruout the State. But 
 with the exception of several small plants, the managers 
 of whom were always complaining more or less, he found 
 that his competitors seemed to be running along as well 
 as usual. They seemed to be making heavy purchases 
 of ore, turning out a big product, and in some mys 
 terious manner finding a ready market for their entire 
 output; also the railroads seemed to serve them with a 
 promptness which was very marked in comparison with 
 the dilatory manner they served his plant. Just as he 
 
 241
 
 242 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 was about to take radical measures against the conspir 
 ing roads, the mystery was suddenly cleared up. 
 
 As he sat in his office early one sunny afternoon look 
 ing over a pile of correspondence which his stenographer 
 had just laid upon his desk, his secretary opened the 
 door and brought him a card; "Solomon Guggenhone," it 
 read, and recognizing the name instantly, he intuitively 
 felt that it meant something. Turning to the waiting sec 
 retary he bowed his inclination to receive the gentleman. 
 
 Presently a dapper neatly dressed young man entered 
 the room. He was a trifle under medium height, poss 
 essed of a pleasant, almost boyish, face, adorned with a 
 closely trimmed jet black mustache. His youthful fea 
 tures were not marked by any heavy lines of character 
 save that of great determination and a certain rare sug 
 gestion of future power and acumen, and one could 
 readily distinguish the general unmistakable features 
 of the Sephardic Jew. 
 
 " Mr. Bayard," he said politely, advancing to the desk 
 and cordially extending his hand. 
 
 "Delighted to meet you, Mr. Guggenhone, please be 
 seated," replied the smelter magnate pointing to a chair, 
 after rising to his feet and shaking hands with his visitor. 
 
 " Mr. Bayard," began the young man, " I have called 
 upon you in the interests of a party of capitalists who 
 desire to consolidate the smelting and refining interests 
 of Colorado and the West in general; and if the subject 
 is agreeable to you, I would be more than pleased to lay 
 our plans before you, in hopes that you may find it to 
 your interest to join us in the enterprise." 
 
 Bayard twisted uneasily in his chair as the young 
 man stated his mission, and reaching over to his desk he 
 touched the -button for his secretary, who appearing, Bay 
 ard handed him the stack of unfinished correspondence, 
 saying, "Please take care of this, Harry, if there is "any 
 thing of particular importance, hold it over for me." 
 
 Turning again to his visitor, he excused the interrup 
 tion, and added with great significance, looking his vis 
 itor squarely in the eye, his glance being returned with 
 a quietly attentive stare.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 243 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, I believe the time has come, when 
 Ave caii talk consolidation. Please understand me as most 
 heartily interested in the plan you have just referred to." 
 
 The young Jew's eyes sparkled pleasurably and sig 
 nificantly, and he proceeded to outline his proposition 
 briefly yet fully. As he finished Bayard remarked: 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, I must have a little time to con 
 sult with my associates in the matter, and if convenient, 
 I will meet you again upon the subject say, at four to 
 morrow afternoon, at the Brown ordinary. Will that 
 suit your convenience?" 
 
 "Yes exactly, Mr. Bayard," replied his visitor rising 
 and smiling cordially, and after shaking hands again 
 he left the office. 
 
 As the door swung behind his short dapper figure, Bay 
 ard slapped his knees with his chubby hands, saying, 
 "By gosh! I knew it, Tommy, old boy, there's your 
 nigger in the fence. I'll see Dave Moore inside the next 
 half hour."
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 At the intersection of Seventeenth and Strong streets in 
 the city of Denver, rises a great office building, the prop 
 erty of a large New York assurance society, the entire 
 corner of the street floor of which is occupied by the Na 
 tional First Bank, one of the greatest financial institu 
 tions in the West. 
 
 In the very innermost nook of this hive of financial in 
 dustry, is the private office of the president of National 
 First, David Moore, easily the greatest financial power 
 of Colorado. He had lived in Denver for nearly forty 
 years, having arrived when he was a young man barely 
 of age, and being actively identified with the growth and 
 progress of the city from its earliest inception, even when 
 Colorado was a part of the old federal Territory of Kan 
 sas. Thus he had seen the state grow up grandly about 
 him, likewise the city. 
 
 In all the fateful and tumultuous periods of the his 
 tory of Colorado and the city of Denver, David Moore was 
 ever the cool, far-seeing, masterful genius of finance. He 
 became wedded to Denver, Colorado, and the Golden 
 West, as a young man weds his fair young bride. He 
 had been known to say in a burst of confidence to Phoebe 
 Prim, a Denver press reporter, "that when anybody hits 
 Colorado a lick, I just jump on 'em." He was one of the 
 truly great characters of the modern West, had been more 
 than once referred to by admiring press representatives as, 
 "The Duke of Denver;" and was of that sterling type 
 of substantial manhood which has left its indelible mark 
 on every page of the world's history, being possessed of 
 that supreme element with which some surpassing indi 
 viduals are endowed, the peculiar modest ability to quiet 
 ly and thoroly DO things ! 
 
 As David sat leisurely at his desk late in the after 
 noon of the same day upon which Solomon Guggenhone 
 
 245
 
 246 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 had called upon the president of the M. & C. S. Co., the 
 door suddenly swung open, and in walked Thomas 
 Bayard. 
 
 "By gosh, Dave, it takes a lot of red tape to get into 
 your darned old den. What do you coop yourself up for 
 like this anyhow?" 
 
 "Well, Tom, the spider must set in the middle of his 
 web, you know. And here I am in the middle of the big 
 gest bank in town," replied David, smiling up good- 
 humoredly at his rather unceremonious caller, altho 
 he might have called his attention to the fact, that it 
 had not been so many years since a fanatic had en 
 countered him when his desk was located in the gen 
 eral business office of the bank,- and deliberately robbed 
 him of a cool twenty thousand, under threat of blowing 
 him to atoms with a flask of nitre-glycerin which he 
 brandished under his nose. 
 
 With characteristic cordiality the banker rose and ex 
 tended a chair to his visitor. Seating himself comforta 
 bly therein, Bayard related the substance of his conver 
 sation with young Guggenhone. As he finished, the 
 banker picked up a box of cigars from his desk and 
 quietly proffered them to the somewhat blustery magnate. 
 After Bayard had selected a choice one, and David had 
 leisurely helped himself, they proceeded to light them, 
 and presently as he blew the fragrant smoke en joy ably 
 toward the ceiling, the president of National First spoke. 
 
 "Well, Tom, it's your move. You've got to go into 
 the combination, that's a cinch," he said, with deep 
 conviction. 
 
 "But by , Dave Moore," replied Bayard heatedly, "I 
 
 ain't never goin* to be run by a lot of New York sheenies." 
 
 " Ever look up the history of the Guggenhones, Tom ? 
 Solly, there, is a graduate of my old alma mater, Har 
 vard," said the banker, with a sort of quiet pride. 
 
 "Nope, I never needed to," blurted out Bayard. 
 
 "Well, I can tell you one thing, Tom, they're rock 
 hard, solid, Gunnison granite. Ever hear of the Roth 
 schilds, Tom?" and as Bayard nodded affirmatively, the 
 banker continued, "Well, back of these .Guggenhone
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 247 
 
 sheenies of yours, is the greatest financial house on earth. 
 Mighty good people, too, Tom. I might safely say the 
 equal, if not the best of any people on God's green earth. 
 I am personally acquainted with the Rothschilds of Lon 
 don, Paris, and Berlin. Why, man, they are the salt of 
 the earth, and some of the very best fellows we've got right 
 here in Denver are our Jews. Peaceable, honorable, just; 
 and imbued where us Gentiles give them a chance, with 
 the very highest attributes of civilization and progress. 
 You know Jacob Wondoner the best Chamber of Com 
 merce president we ever had ; Spiegle's another." 
 
 "Well, but lookey here, Dave, this is a New York 
 move," said Bayard with real concern, "sure as shoutin', 
 they'll gobble us all up. You know yourself, Dave, that 
 a sheeney never lets loose when he once gets a hold. 
 He always succeeds in running the whole thing in the 
 end." 
 
 " Say, Tom, you reckon you know something about 
 those hills over there, don't you?" replied the banker, 
 pointing half mischievously, half meaningly in the 
 direction of the mountains. 
 
 "Well well, I should rather think I do!" exclaimed 
 Bayard, in a tone which almost indicated indignation to 
 be thus lightly questioned about the Great Hills, the re 
 sources of which he had spent the most of his life in 
 developing. 
 
 "Well, Tom," continued David, smiling to himself 
 delightedly as Bayard bit at his sly bantering, "You fel 
 lows have only just scratched those hills. To be sure, 
 you've taken out a few millions, but that ain't a patchin' 
 to what's left there waiting to be dug out. Why not let 
 these Eastern fellows in here, and let 'em scratch all they 
 want to. You'll get your money out of the deal all right. 
 They offer you a handsome profit, which years of the 
 most careful management won't bring you. These Gug- 
 genhones will keep their word to the letter. I'll put up 
 all my stock in National First, and that's some, old boy, 
 that any arrangement which you make with them will be 
 carried out to the dot. Yes, let 'em come in, Tom. Let's 
 even help 'em to open up these hills of ours. Can't you
 
 248 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 see that every dollar that comes out of those hills adds 
 strength to our state, our city, and our private fortunes. 
 And for heaven's sake, Tom, whatever you do, don't 
 discourage outside capital. We're here first. Thru long 
 and arduous experience we're in exact touch with this 
 great state of ours. And you can always bet, that inside 
 men like us fellows, who are in on the ground floor of 
 every proposition in Colorado, can take care of number 
 one. Why, you old muddle head, there have been times, 
 not so many years back, when you and I, and all the 
 other Chamber of Commerce men, were actually spending 
 thousands of dollars annually just trying to rope some 
 of these Eastern fellows in, and nobody knows that any 
 better than you do. And what do you want to freeze 
 'em out now for, when they're falling all over themselves 
 trying to get into the band-wagon. It's time you were 
 getting in, too, Tom. The trouble with you is that 
 you've had a mortal cinch so long, that you can't let 
 loose. So loosen up, patch up a deal with these Jews and 
 help 'em to get to work. You you can't fight 'em, 
 Tom, they're too big; and you know as well as I do, that 
 this fighting business costs money." 
 
 The words fell from David Moore's lips in solid earnest 
 flow, and as Bayard felt the truth of them, he also re 
 alized that they sounded the end of his days as an ac 
 tive smelting man ; but refusing to give way to the deep 
 regret which tugged at his sturdy old heartstrings for 
 the first time in his career, he reached over for another 
 of Davy's cigars and slowly lighted it. Evidently the 
 same sentiment was affecting the banker, and for a few 
 moments neither spoke, then Bayard rose, saying: 
 
 "Er good advice, Dave, thank you, I appreciate it 
 but-^-but darn them sheenies," he added doggedly, and 
 shoving his hat crustily over his ears he pushed the door 
 and disappeared. 
 
 David laughed heartily to himself after Bayard's de 
 parture, which mood soon gave way to one deeply senti 
 mental, as suggested by the probable passing of his old 
 friend's business career under the stress of the new re 
 gime. Presently he walked over to a magnificent oil paint-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 249 
 
 ing which hung on the wall, and gazed at it long and 
 musingly. 
 
 It represented an old-time prairie schooner pulled by 
 several yoke of oxen slowly Wending their way westward 
 across the bleak prairies towards the setting sun sinking 
 behind the mountains in the far distance. On the brow 
 of a high mesa in the near foreground, was a lone Indian 
 sitting upon a pony, his hands raised to his eyes as tho 
 watching with breaking heart the course of the remorse 
 less invader. 
 
 " The wild West,", muttered the old banker, "Ah, how 
 times have changed since then, when now the Jews, the 
 great princes of finance, seek to control the products of 
 those precious hills which only a few years ago were 
 merely the playground of the Indian and the wolf. And I 
 guess its almost up to me, for surely I'm the Indian now 
 I'm getting old," and turning from the picture he paced 
 slowly across the room several times, and returning to his 
 desk murmured as he sat down, "But blame me if I don't 
 wear out tho, I'll never let the game rust me."
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Several months after the first meeting between Solomon 
 Guggenhone and Thomas Bayard, the same gentleman, 
 in company with several others, including Theodore 
 Dodge, were holding a meeting in a newly furnished 
 suite of offices in the New England building on Seven 
 teenth Street in Denver. This suite was the western head 
 quarters of the newly organized Smelter Trust, the Amer 
 ican Smelter Co.; the old M. & C. S. Co., having been 
 merged into and absorbed by the new organization. 
 
 This giant industrial was capitalized for $55,000,000, 
 and incredible as it may seem, it was so ingeniously 
 devised and operated as to pay generous and bona fide 
 dividends upon this enormous capitalization from the 
 very day of its completed organization. Well might 
 David Moore say, "that the Jews were the princes of 
 finance." - 
 
 Both Bayard and Dodge, as well as the other stock 
 holders of the now extinct M. & C. S. Co., were well sat 
 isfied with the deal. They had received the full valu 
 ation of their property in cash, and were also the recip 
 ients of large blocks of the capital stock of the newly 
 formed corporation. A few months later, after the new 
 corporation was in full operation and in complete con 
 trol of the central Rocky Mountain smelter situation, 
 this stock, much of which was said to be pure water, 
 had nearly attained the par value of one hundred cents 
 on the dollar. In a year's time it actually commanded 
 a premium on the various stock exchanges of the coun 
 try. And all because great financiers of national repute 
 were back of it, and regardless of the real value of the 
 corporation's actual holdings, no matter how inflated their 
 value might 'be, the concern could pay generous divi 
 dends upon its enormous capital stock. 
 
 The original holdings of the American Smelter Co., in- 
 
 251
 
 252 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 eluded some twenty-three smelting plants and refineries 
 located in various parts of the country both East and 
 West. In Colorado it was from its inception practically 
 supreme, with but one exception, which was of very 
 slight importance when the insignificance of the concern 
 was considered. But tho small, it was capable of growth, 
 and acting upon the theory that the plant might possibly 
 develop, under capable management backed with suf 
 ficient capital, into an active competitor, the members of 
 the executive board of the Trust shortly after its organ 
 ization, were earnestly discussing the subject of absorbing 
 this small plant, of which the following is a brief history. 
 
 At Goldie, a large town tucked away in the foothills 
 a few miles to the west of Denver, was located a smelter 
 known as the "Gilpin." It was owned by a Connecticut 
 Yankee by the name of Jonathan Strong. In some man 
 ner this genius of the "Nutmeg" state had dropped upon 
 a few secrets of metallurgy and had built up his smelter 
 from the patched up relics of several antiquated smelters 
 which had been operated in the early days of Colorado, 
 when Denver was a much smaller village than Goldie it 
 self; but as fast as the flourishing city by the Platte had 
 attained proportions it had gradually drawn away the 
 trade of the foothill city, and with that trade had been 
 drawn the fires of the oldtime smelters of Goldie. 
 
 In addition to the ingenuity displayed by Strong in 
 the rigging up of his plant, he had also developed an 
 ability for managing his concern that was highly unique. 
 For it was his custom to visit at regular intervals the 
 various camps of the Clear Creek district, and taking ad 
 vantage of the different mine operators' dissatisfaction 
 with their treatment at the hands of the various smelters 
 of Denver, he had gradually obtained sufficient shipments 
 of ore to keep his plant running continuously. He could 
 not afford to employ a corps of ore buyers, but instead, 
 would persuade the operators to consign their ores to 
 him to be smelted at a very close margin. And in his 
 eagerness for business he had for years insinuated to his 
 customers, of the probable organization of a smelter trust 
 in the near future which would crowd out not only the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 253 
 
 small mine operator, but would also destroy that active 
 competition which his plant afforded. When this talk, 
 which for several years was pure humbug, did really be 
 come an actual fact. Strong continued to beguile the 
 Clear Creek miners with his cry of Trust competition and 
 hard-time talk, while all the time he was planning to 
 sell his plant to the Trust at the very first opportunity,' 
 and which plan had probably been in his mind when 
 he started in the business. 
 
 Among the active discontents of uoper Clear. Creek 
 was Standish Brown, who for years had carefully noted 
 the remarkable growth and development of the smelting 
 industry. And his very first battle with the Denver con 
 cerns had been over the gold values which were con 
 tained to a generous degree in the ores of the 40 Rounds, 
 and for which the Denver smelters were loath to settle, 
 as it had been customary for many years previous to 1893, 
 for them to settle with the operators upon a purely sil 
 ver basis. Thus in those flush times before silver was de 
 monetized, the miners made such a large profit upon that 
 basis, that they rarely ever sought, much less got, an ac 
 counting for whatever gold values their ores might con 
 tain, and which in most cases was rather insignificant, 
 at least in the Clear Creek camps where silver so largely 
 predominated. 
 
 But Standish, however, thru his intimate knowledge 
 of assaying, was perfectly informed as to the gold values 
 contained in the ores of the 40 Rounds, and he had at 
 an early date insisted that he be fully paid for them in 
 addition to the larger silver values they contained. After 
 months of quarreling and even threatening, the smelters 
 gave in, and he began to get returns for the gold values 
 as well as for silver. It was a great victory for him, 
 for afterwards these same gold values were the salva 
 tion of his mine during the terrific slump of silver which 
 coincided with the panic of 1893. 
 
 His next clash with the Denver smelters was over the 
 discovery that the railroads were openly discriminating 
 against the smelters of Goldie. For these railroads were 
 controlled almost exclusively by Denverites who likewise
 
 254 
 
 were heavily interested in the Denver smelters. Thus a 
 cold-blooded plot had been concocted by these Denver cap 
 italists, in defiance of all principles of justice and honor, 
 to exterminate their competitors. And as an instance of 
 this iniquity, it can be stated that the C. C. & U. Ry. ac 
 tually hauled a carload of ore down Clear Creek gulch, 
 thru Goldie, and the ten or twelve additional miles on 
 to Denver, for considerable less than it would haul a car 
 load from the same points to Goldie. Not only was this 
 infamous practice maintained for years, but consign 
 ments of ore billed to Goldie were held up and delayed, 
 quantities of ore stolen or lost in transit, and in many 
 other ways petty indignities were perpetrated upon these 
 shipments. 
 
 For pure self preservation Standish spent several thou 
 sand dollars in fighting this railroad iniquity thru sev 
 eral sessions of the state legislature, the smelting and 
 railroad interests fighting him boldly and openly. Forced 
 to extreme measures, however, Standish and his followers 
 were finally able to bring bribery charges against sev 
 eral members of the legislature, the fight culminating 
 in a battle that was long remembered in the minds of 
 Denver smelting and railroad magnates. Curious enough, 
 it was Theodore Dodge -who was the backbone of the smel 
 ter opposition, for he did not hesitate to openly and ac 
 tively lobby at the capitol building in the interests of 
 the railroads and smelters. 
 
 In the end, long after the Goldie smelters had been 
 compelled to cease operations, Standish's influence and 
 money succeeded in restoring the rates to a more just and 
 equitable basis, and incidentally arousing the people of 
 the^ state to the necessity of establishing a competent and 
 active railroad commission. However, the smelters of 
 Goldie had long since perished from this and other 
 causes, and save the lone plant which was later revived 
 by Jonathan Strong, the industry was dead. It was at 
 this time that Standish, for the first time in his life, be 
 gan seriously to consider building a smelter himself, but 
 just as he was about to investigate the defects and merits 
 of Goldie as the possible site for a successful plant, Jon-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 255 
 
 uthan Strong had dawned upon the scene, and Standish 
 had thereupon agreed to divert a generous portion of his 
 product to the Gilpin as an experiment. And as soon 
 as the Yankee had demonstrated his ability to success 
 fully treat the ores of the 40 Rounds, Standish turned 
 over his entire product to him much elated in the thought 
 that he had won a decisive battle over the Denver con 
 cerns in the enjoyment of a close and independent 
 market. 
 
 The shrewd Yankee constantly fostered his customer's 
 interest in the Gilpin, among other items of course, by 
 constantly intimating that a combination might be formed 
 at any time to crowd his concern from the field. There 
 fore when the organization of the American Smelter Co. 
 was formally announced in the state press, Jonathan 
 Strong prepared to reap his long anticipated harvest. He 
 would sell his cheap antiquated plant to the Trust at 
 a big price. He had eked out a slender living for years, 
 purposely doing business upon a narrow margin, in order 
 to hold not only his trade but be in a position when the 
 opportune time came, to insist and obtain long time con 
 tracts with' his customers as an asset by which his plant 
 would actually command a large price from the Trust. 
 
 That his standing with Standish Brown would give 
 him a favorable hearing with the newly formed Trust 
 was almost certain. The Denver smelters were still smart 
 ing from the effects of the fight which Standish had put 
 up. They had investigated his wealth and resources, and 
 they knew his power. With them he was a marked 
 man. Fearing his power, they had always united their 
 interests in fighting him, regardless of how fiercely they 
 might battle among themselves. It was always Standish 
 Brown against the field. 
 
 Thus at this meeting of the executive board of the 
 Trust, the members had before them a communication 
 from Jonathan Strong, to the effect that he was open to 
 an offer from them, or else he would interest capital, pre 
 sumably Standish Brown's, and build a great in 
 dependent plant either at Goldie or Denver. Now this 
 latter statement was considered by the board for what
 
 256 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 it actually was a pure bluff; but they did want to muz 
 zle this enterprising Yankee and control the output of his 
 plant. They felt that this was a comparatively easy 
 matter to settle, but the question was, what to do with 
 Brown? The old concerns had felt his power more than 
 once. His fierce uncompromising fight with the old smelt 
 ing interests was the talk and glory of every independent 
 mining camp and newspaper in Colorado, and he poss 
 essed a large following of friendly and influential mine 
 operators. The board considered him entirely capable 
 of building a great smelting plant if he chose to do so. 
 He had the genius and wealth, and could also obtain from 
 his mine owner friends all the ore he wanted. It was 
 plain that if this impertinent Yankee chose to interest 
 him, the Trust might Lave a fight on its hands that would 
 prick its bubble, and seriously affect the stock market. 
 
 It was at this juncture that Theodore Dodge again be 
 came conspicuous as Standish Brown's chief trouble 
 maker, by concocting a brilliant scheme to tie him hand 
 and foot. Having been mixed up with upper Clear 
 Creek affairs more or less for years in his former man 
 agement of the Sampson-Smith properties, and in his 
 lobbying against Brown at the state capitol, he was fully 
 informed of Brown's peculiar temperament and charac 
 ter, and as the direct result of this information and his 
 own keen acumen, he made the following suggestion 
 to the board. 
 
 That the board agree upon purchase terms with Strong, 
 only upon the condition, that he secure Brown's sig 
 nature to a contract, binding Brown, his heirs and 
 assigns, to deliver his entire product to the Gilpin smelter 
 or its successors, for a period of at least four years. 
 
 In that length of time Dodge figured that the board 
 could probably arrange a further program to embarrass 
 or bring to terms the obstreperous young mine owner. 
 Dodge exhibited his usual cleverness still further, by sug 
 gesting that Brown would probably refer such a con 
 tract to John Charles Rose, his attorney, and that a repre 
 sentative of the corporation should call on him to recom 
 mend to his principal the closing of such a contract. In
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 257 
 
 making this suggestion, Dodge was fully aware of the 
 political aspirations of John Charles, and he felt secure 
 in the thought that the ambitious attorney would not 
 scruple at feathering his own nest at the expense of his 
 client. After considerable discussion, Dodge's plan was- 
 agreed upon, and the board adjourned. 
 
 This incident however, does not appear upon the for 
 mal minutes of the board; like hundreds of other inci 
 dents in the inner history of many of America's gigantic 
 corporations, it was smothered in the secret recesses of the 
 executive, or rather executioner's board.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 A few days after the foregoing session of the board, 
 Standish received a call from Jonathan Strong, who for 
 obvious reasons, made the trip from Goldie to Plume 
 for the express purpose of closing a long term contract 
 with his loyal and good-natured customer. Standish re 
 ceived him with his usual cordiality, and immediately 
 Strong began to sound him about the contract. 
 
 "Really, Mr. Brown," said Strong, in a well feigned 
 burst of confidence, after having previously delivered a 
 long tirade upon the gross iniquities of Jhe newly formed 
 Trust, "I don't know where you and I will land in this 
 business, and I have made you this visit solely to 
 effect a perfect understanding between us, that I may 
 be guaranteed the steady production of the 40 Rounds 
 for the maintenance of my smelter." 
 
 "Well, Jonathan," replied Standish heartily, "I don't 
 see but what you and I can agree upon terms always 
 found me on the square, haven't you?" 
 
 " Yes, Mr. Brown, you have indeed been a loyal friend," 
 replied Strong with his characteristic whine, "But you 
 can't tell what might happen, and a good solid written 
 contract between us will protect our heirs, and assure 
 me the product of the mine in any event. Business is 
 business, Mr. Brown, and I don't feel justified in working 
 on uncertainties. I have got my hands more than full in 
 keepin' the plant a goin', and I think I ought to be free 
 from the worry of where my ore's comin' from. The Trust 
 is liable to spring something on me most any time, and 
 I've got to sail under close canvas and be careful." 
 
 " All right, brother Jonathan," said Standish, smiling 
 at his colleague's apparent concern, "draw up the sort of 
 contract which you think is fair to both of us, and send 
 it to my attorney in Denver, Mr. Rose. You must know 
 his address I think, and if he approves of it, I will sign 
 
 259
 
 260 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 it and mail it to you, and thus end your doubts as to the 
 delivery of the product of the 40 Rounds. God bless 
 the old girl, anyway, Jonathan ; made another big strike 
 in her the other day. The ore runs up to $106.65 a ton." 
 
 After this conversation Strong took the evening train 
 for Denver, scarcely casting a glance at his plant in 
 Goldie as the train passed thru the town. But no wonder, 
 the main financial event of his life was at hand, and with 
 a Yankee, such an occasion is very near the main one 
 of his life, not excepting his marriage or the death of his 
 father-in-law. To sell his antiquated plant for a high 
 price and gain thereby a snug fortune to last him the rest 
 of his days surely, that was indeed a triumph. 
 
 The next morning he visited the offices of the Trust in 
 the New England block, and remained closeted with its at 
 torney for nearly an hour; finally emerging with some 
 typewritten documents in his hand, which was the coveted 
 contract as dictated and drawn up in duplicate to the full 
 satisfaction of the Trust's attorney. Placing it carefully 
 in his inside coat pocket, Strong then made his way to the 
 office of John Charles Rose. 
 
 "Here's a paper for you to look over, Mr. Rose," he 
 said, "Mr. Brown told me to tell you, that if it met with 
 your 0. K., to please mail it to him and he would sign it. 
 A bad thing this Trust business is, Mr. Rose," he added 
 with a knowing wink, which the attorney pretended to 
 ignore, "Mr. Brown and I are about to close a contract 
 to protect our mutual interests." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Strong, we will look into the matter 
 at once, and if I find it satisfactory I will mail it to Mr. 
 Brown this evening." 
 
 There was not a trace of guile upon the cold impassive 
 features of the attorney, and altho fully assured by the 
 Trust's attorney that Rose was in the deal, the cunning 
 Yankee could scarcely believe it, such was his cool suave 
 expression and manner. But the deal was on at last, 
 and Strong figured that he would soon know the result. 
 John Charles retired into his private office and care 
 fully examined the contract. It was drawn up exactly as 
 the Trust's attorney had intimated to him at lunch thepre-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 261 
 
 vious day. It would irrevocably bind his client to the 
 marketing of the ores of the 40 Rounds with the Gilpin 
 smelter, its successors and assigns, for the period of four 
 years; and as the attorney finished his examination he 
 rose and slowly paced back and forth thinking over the 
 situation. 
 
 Life was a game with him. A great chessboard, upon 
 which one makes certain moves and obtains certain 
 results. The bait which had been offered him by the 
 representative of the Trust as the price of betraying his 
 client, was patronage. It would turn over to him a cer 
 tain percentage of its legal business each year, and would 
 also support him in his political deals, which was the 
 main thing, for the giant corporation was composed of 
 the Guggenhones who controlled, and some of the most 
 influential men in Colorado, as well as several of the 
 most famous money kings of Wall Street. It was just 
 such an alliance as the ambitious attorney had long de 
 sired. 
 
 But how about his client? 
 
 Surely Stan dish Brown was entitled to some consider 
 ation, at least he was paying for it. 
 
 What! That rough, arrogant, overgrown miner? Dig 
 ging blindly away up there in the mountains. In what 
 manner would such a contract affect him? He would get 
 an honest return for every dollar's worth of ore. In fact, 
 the contract would be of great advantage to him, for with 
 the selling out of this irresponsible Yankee to the Trust, 
 Brown would have a valuable binding contract with a 
 large and responsible concern. 
 
 How foolish to scruple over a contract which was of 
 real substantial benefit to his client, and and of such 
 great incalculable benefit to Mm, John Charles Rose, the 
 rising political power of Colorado. Besides, Brown would 
 never know of the deal, and even if he did suspect it, he 
 would have no proof. But in any event, the long and 
 honorable record of John Charles Rose and his father in 
 the able management of the Brown estate, would certainly 
 appeal to him, and defeat any rash act of retaliation 
 which his hot indignation might contemplate if he ever
 
 262 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 discovered the deal. Also, was he not on the inside of all 
 this rough miner's affairs, had his hands on all his se 
 curities, bonds, investments, etc.? Indeed, if forced to 
 play a strong hand he could embarrass the gentleman 
 with many legal entanglements, and if necessary, actu 
 ally force him to a settlement. 
 
 Pshaw! It was foolish to anticipate trouble in that 
 quarter. He had decided, he would recommend the sign 
 ing of the contract to his client. 
 
 In this deliberation, John Charles Rose looked within 
 the theatre of his soul, and saw himself addressing the 
 Senate of the United States. A power among the great 
 men of the nation. He beheld himself secretly backed 
 by the influence of great corporations. He saw the masses 
 of the people supporting him as the leader of a great 
 party, shouting and applauding their hearty approval of 
 his spotless career as a worthy son of Colorado. He saw 
 himself filling a chair similar to that of his favorite 
 statesman, the great Kentuckian, Henry Clay. 
 
 A SENATOR OF THE UNITED STATES, and this 
 this was his opportunity; to effect an alliance, thru this 
 contract of Standish Brown's, with one of the great powers 
 which would lift him to that long coveted goal. 
 
 " There is a tide in the affairs of men, 
 Which taken at the flood, leads on to Fortune; 
 Omitted, all the voyage of their life 
 Is bound in shallows, and in miseries." 
 
 For centuries, the above honeyed words of Shakespeare 
 have caused weak men to err. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY! 
 
 Oh, who can translate thy fatal sophistry? 
 
 Vain, self loving, ambitious men, forever seeking after 
 thee; and acting upon thy supposed infallibility, only to 
 fall down in bitter, crushing, and ignominious defeat and 
 ruin. 
 
 The world empire seekers Alexander, Pompey, Napo 
 leon.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 263 
 
 The vainly seeking and disappointed president aspi 
 rants; Webster, Greeley, Blaine. 
 
 OPPORTUNITY! 
 
 Oh ! William Shakespeare, thou mistaketh somewhat in 
 this fascinating speech of Brutus', if thou meantest it for 
 pure truth. 
 
 A fateful moment of "a tide in the affairs of men?" 
 
 Ah! Sweet truth, this sentiment might apply to worldly" 
 to selfish, designing, weak men; but to true men 
 never! 
 
 There is no ebb and flow in the affairs of true men 
 those great unselfish souls who bear undaunted the bur 
 den of Life, and ascend the high reared summits of eternal 
 honor. 
 
 They do not ponder, and anxiously await an opportune 
 moment; but walk serenely on to their high appointed 
 places, unmindful of what weak men call, opportunity. 
 
 True men, and all truly great men, are sublimely un 
 conscious, that there ever was "a tide" or time in their 
 simple, natural, dutiful careers, in which they could have 
 acted in a different manner than the straight and narrow 
 path of truth and honest conduct ; or by any other route 
 ascended to that place which it was their right and sure 
 destiny to obtain and fill. 
 
 Bah! Feed opportunity to jingoes, ambitious men, 
 and slot-machines; but to true men feed purity of soul 
 and noble and steadfast purpose. 
 
 "Seek ye first the kingdom of God and His righteous 
 ness and all things shall be added unto you." 
 
 Bah! This weak doctrine of Opportunity. Editors of 
 the current magazine, "Success," remove this false doc 
 trine from your columns.* 
 
 Teach your young readers to live the life of Truth, 
 of Israel. To toe the mark. To study themselves and 
 live up to that truth which they find within themselves 
 and observe in others. Do not hold out to trusting inno 
 cence this dreadful delusion. This false god, Opportu. 
 
 *NOTE. In the May, 1903, issue of the popular magazine, 
 "Success," is the picture of a young man, who, evidently travel 
 worn and weary, has lain down his pack, and is resting upon the
 
 "264 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Some misguided readers will wait all their miserable 
 lives to get acquainted with and snatch vainly at the 
 fleeting draperies of Opportu. Poor cowards they, tremb 
 ling with apprehension and anxiety, and weary with wait 
 ing for the passage of a phantom. Who will sink into 
 their sad graves, sorry and unhappy failures; whereas, if 
 they had been trained to step bravely and confidently for 
 ward upon the path of life, and climbed the road with 
 the balance of their fellows, they would have proved them 
 selves, if not famous and illustrious, at least worthy and 
 competent. 
 
 Opportu at Waterloo, was much different from Opportu 
 at Austerlitz, my dear young America. 
 
 Opportu at Waterloo was an opportunity for Napoleon, 
 whom history shows as perhaps the greatest opportunist 
 who ever lived, to FAIL; as well as for Wellington, who 
 was simply doing his plain duty as the trusted general 
 of an army, to win. 
 
 Napoleon's seeking and accepting so-called opportuni 
 ties finally landed him at St. Helena, a sea girt isle, where 
 he died ignominiously like a rat in a trap, after a sicken 
 ing career of bloodshed, rapine, and dishonor. 
 
 But Abraham Lincoln lived his noble life, without 
 ducking and twisting his head in order to see, or wildly 
 to scamper over the country in order to follow the most 
 false and fickle Opportu. The Proclamation of Emanci 
 pation was a matter of extreme necessity for the preser 
 vation of the sacred principle of Truth and Liberty, the 
 announcement of which caused Lincoln's, whole cabinet 
 to stand aghast. But courteously disregarding the fears 
 
 roadside fence; when Opportunity, pictured as a semi-nude figure 
 with whirling draperies and feet winged as Mercury's, and pro 
 pelling with the flying feet a large ball; suddenly sweeps past 
 the startled and weary youth, and passes swiftly beyond him 
 down the road. Thus conveying to the observer, the distinct and 
 absolutely false idea, that Opportunity is something that must be 
 grasped at once as it rolls past us, or our life is hopelessly 
 doomed to failure and defeat. This is not true. For all the 
 truly great characters of human history, are those men and 
 women who have simply lived their lives truly, openly, and 
 honestly, as they followed the path of truth and duty from day 
 to day; while only the reverse can be said of those characters, 
 familiarly known as "Opportunists," who have followed the 
 doctrine of Opportunity, which is as false as hell, and he who 
 promulgates it, is a base corrupter of truth and virtue.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 265 
 
 and contrary opinions of the members of that body, the 
 one man, plain, honest old Abe, gave the slave his free 
 dom. No opportunity here, but just a plain indisputable 
 duty placed before a God-fearing, honorable man. 
 
 No St. Helena for him. 
 
 No worship of the false god Opportu here. 
 
 He simply did his duty, as all other true men must 
 do. He simply lived up to the dictates of his pure truth- 
 loving soul ; a simple unwavering integrity developed him 
 into a glorious, famous man, and won for him a great 
 nation's eternal thanks and a martyr's tomb. The French 
 have also entombed Napoleon in the midst of their gay 
 capital. Perhaps to them it is a shrine of Glory. But to 
 all truth-lovers, however, it can never be anything but a 
 memorial of Error rebuked by Truth. Lincoln's tomb, 
 however, is a shrine of Truth enthroned by Error. 
 
 Our brave young Leiter, he of the redoubtable "Record- 
 Herald" chin, thought Opportu was going to lead him to 
 a colossal fortune in wheat; but instead, it led him to a 
 vast failure. 
 
 Oh ! This doctrine of Opportu seems to be good, until 
 the failure is acknowledged. 
 
 And then what? 
 
 Why then, it surely teaches us the lesson, to simply 
 follow the dictates of one's own honest, God-fearing, truth- 
 seeking soul; and it will lead one safe and honorably to 
 fame and fortune oblivious of the fact that modern wise 
 men (?) write essays and poems encouraging the wor 
 ship of that false god, Opportu. 
 
 Why scorn the patient, plodding pace of the tortoise 
 DUTY; if it wins the race against Opportunity?
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Standish signed the contract and mailed it to Jonathan 
 Strong. It was to take effect beginning June 1, 1899, and 
 remain in force four years. 
 
 One morning not long after, as Standish and his wife 
 were eating a late breakfast, they heard a knock on the 
 door, and Fiorina opened it. 
 
 " Good morning, Mrs. Brown ; here's a message for the 
 boss." 
 
 Fiorina recognized the speaker as the railroad agent, 
 and she smiled a recognition. After signing for the tele 
 gram, she handed the receipt book to the agent and the 
 message to Standish. As he opened it, she peeked over his 
 shoulder, and this is what she read: 
 
 " Standish Brown, 
 
 "Plume, Colo. 
 " Strong has sold out to the Trust. ROSE." 
 
 A torrent of rage filled the angry mine owner, and he 
 fairly choked with hot indignation, but his pretty wife 
 put her velvety hand over his mouth and placed her soft 
 cheek tightly against his. Then, as her lovely hair fell 
 down upon his bare throat, he picked up a lock of it 
 and pressed it to his lips, and Fiorina could feel his face 
 gradually soften into a smile. 
 
 How they were enjoying their honeymoon. 
 
 As Fiorina poured out a second cup of coffee for her lord, 
 he grew serious again, his face twitching convulsively as 
 was his habit when disturbed. 
 
 "D d !" he ripped out, but seeing his wife's 
 
 threatening look, he repressed his choler and gulped down 
 the hot coffee ferociously. 
 
 "Fiorina, come here, little one," he said, shoving his 
 chair away from the table. She went to him and got up 
 into his lap. After a moment, in -whiVh he embraced 
 
 267
 
 268 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 her as tho she were the one solace of his life, he said softly, 
 
 "My darling little Fiorina, you're the only one in all 
 the world that I can trust. Will you promise never to go 
 back on me?" 
 
 She nodded her head as it laid on his shoulder. 
 
 " Well then promise," he continued playfully. 
 
 She reached up and kissed him, saying as she did so, 
 with an almost childish devotion. 
 
 "Fiorina, nefer, nefer go back on Meester Brown. 
 Always lofe him always." And this was the manner in 
 which Standish and his child wife dismissed for the mo 
 ment a stern affair of business. 
 
 The Denver papers soon confirmed the message of John 
 Charles. The American Smelter Co., thru the purchase 
 of the Gilpin, was now supreme in Colorado ; and Stand 
 ish Brown, who constituted the only known factor of 
 active opposition, was inmeshed in its web for at least 
 four years. 
 
 Standish never attempted to look up Jonathan Strong 
 again. He felt that his temper might get the better of 
 him and cause him to commit an assault which he would 
 afterwards regret. He visited John Charles in Denver 
 not long afterward and discussed the perfidy of the Yan 
 kee and also the possibility of evading the contract, which 
 discussion left no doubt in the mind of John Charles as to 
 what he might expect if the tall mine owner ever learned 
 of the part that he had played in the affair. 
 
 The perfidious attorney, who had long since congrat 
 ulated himself upon his dexterity in completely deceiving 
 his trusting principal, was very careful to point out the 
 folly of attempting to break the contract, and Standish 
 dismissed the subject as just a deplorable incident of 
 human weakness and a thing forever closed. 
 
 In this he was greatly mistaken, however, for a few 
 weeks later a circumstance occurred that gave new im 
 petus, and quite happily, too, a fuller and nobler meaning 
 to his career.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Gus Johnson was a derelict. A liquor-soaked hulk. A 
 booze fighter of the very first rank. And one day during 
 a temporary recovery of his mental and pedal equilib 
 rium, he stepped into the office of John Charles Rose, and 
 asked for employment on the strength of his legal knowl 
 edge and professional ability as an all-around office man. 
 
 Rose, who had need of just such a general utility man, 
 made a close bargain with the fellow, and Johnson, who 
 managed to sober up for a few days, made quite an im 
 pression upon his new employer, Rose finding him pos 
 sessed of quite a smattering of law and an excellent knowl 
 edge of legal forms, such as deeds, leases, mortgages, etc. ; 
 for Johnson had really been admitted to the bar some 
 where down East, but drink having got the better of him, 
 had ruined his career. 
 
 After a few weeks, however, Rose began to note the 
 bibulous, blear-eyed condition of his protege, and he pro 
 ceeded to administer a severe reprimand to him, Johnson 
 accepting it with that nonchalant, long-expected-thank- 
 you demeanor so characteristic of the habitual drunkard; 
 and who, as soon as his employer left the office to fill an 
 engagement, sneaked to the nearest saloon to bravely 
 bolster himself up for a spell of strict abstinence. 
 
 As he held the glass in his shaking hand, he said to 
 his mistress, Drink: 
 
 " Dear old pal, you've got to go to sleep now. There, 
 that's a good little girl, got her nighty on, and papa tucks 
 her into her snug little nest." 
 
 Drink did go to sleep for a few minutes, but she soon 
 woke up again more insistent than ever, and the drunkard 
 was forced to feed her as before, actually managing to 
 hold down his job for six months, to then be discharged. 
 But that was just four months longer than he expected. In 
 fact, he had wagered with Drink every day for the last 
 
 269
 
 270 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 six weeks of his stay, that the next day would be his last. 
 Indeed, she thought him very smooth to hang on as long 
 as he had, and they accordingly congratulated themselves 
 in many a brimming glass. 
 
 As Rose handed the check to Johnson, which repre 
 sented the balance of salary due him, the drunkard left 
 the office as happy as a lark. 
 
 He liked a change. 
 
 Perverted, liquor-soaked genius. A capable soul se 
 duced by drink. He had long lived by his wits, and his 
 little wife and family had protestingly followed his bibu- 
 ulous and ever-declining fortunes. 
 
 Johnson possessed that occasional flash of genius 
 which is often encountered among certain individuals who 
 steep themselves, not only in liquor, but likewise with 
 morphine, absinthe, and opium. These flashes of genius 
 are at times truly dazzling to the sober, abstemious man. 
 But they are generally only flashes in the pan. The 
 divine light beams out in royal splendor for a moment, 
 and then quickly dies out in the enervating embrace of the 
 deadly intoxicant. 
 
 As he left Rose's office, Johnson felt that he had in his 
 pocket a bunch of papers that would secure him another 
 will-o'-the-wisp job. And the next morning after his dis 
 charge he cashed his salary check at the bank and took 
 a car for the Union Depot. 
 
 " How far is it to Plume?" he asked of the ticket agent. 
 
 " Fifty-nine miles. Next train at 3 :30 this afternoon," 
 was the sharp reply. 
 
 " Much obliged," said Johnson, and he took the next car 
 for home to leave some money with his wife and to pack 
 his valise. 
 
 At seven that evening he put up at the hotel in Plume, 
 and the next morning visited the tunnel of the 40 Rounds. 
 Standish did not arrive until nearly noon, and Johnson 
 loafed at the boiler house until that time, exchanging an 
 ecdotes with the fireman between goodly nips at a bottle 
 of "Old Crow," which Johnson had no difficulty in pro 
 ducing the instant he found that the fireman was sus 
 ceptible.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 271 
 
 "Is this Mr. Brown?" ho said boldly, as Standish ap 
 peared and had chatted a moment with the fireman. 
 
 " Yes, sir, what can I dp for you?" replied Standish. 
 
 " Mr. Brown, I would like to speak with you privately. 
 Um important business," said the drunkard, drawing 
 himself up with a brave air of importance and a grand 
 stand swagger. 
 
 " Very well, sir, step into the tunnel with me. I have 
 a place in there that will certainly do," said the mine 
 owner, laughing to himself as he viewed the half-hearted 
 attempt of the booze fighter to impress him with great 
 seriousness. 
 
 A great change had taken place in the tunnel since 
 Standish had first driven it to the lode of the 40 Rounds. 
 It was now extended to twice its former width, allowing 
 the use of a double track. A complete electrical equip 
 ment had been substituted for steam power, and the tun 
 nel was brilliantly illuminated with incandescent lamps 
 thruout its entire length. An electric tram was in opera 
 tion. Electric drills had also been substituted for the old 
 air drills, and the great property was a model of modern 
 mining equipment. 
 
 When they reached the old hoist chamber, which itself 
 had been transformed into a commodious, brilliantly 
 lighted, well ventilated office, tool depository and work 
 shop, Standish offered Johnson a chair and seated himself 
 in another. 
 
 " Well, what is it?" inquired the mine owner sharply. 
 
 In reply to his abrupt question, Johnson took from his 
 inside coat pocket a bundle of tissue and typewritten let 
 ters, and silently handing them to Standish, fished out 
 a two-for-a-nickel cigar, and lighting it, calmly smoked it 
 while the miner perused the papers. 
 
 As Standish slowly read the papers and examined the 
 tissues in the order they were placed, his face gradually 
 grew stern, and finally flamed with anger. When he 
 finished, he looked up at his visitor and said sternly, 
 
 "Who the devil are you?" 
 
 In reply, Johnson proceeded to relate his connection 
 with the papers, and also weaving in an account of his
 
 272 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 own falling fortunes with all the skill of a professional 
 dead-beater; every sentence being carefully framed to 
 produce a penniless, much-abused, God-forsaken effect, 
 that would perhaps enable him to win a benefice from his 
 listener. It was an old game with the drunkard, whom 
 drink had endowed with almost superhuman cunning, 
 even to the verge of causing him to commit blackmail 
 upon a petty scale, in order to bolster up his fortunes. 
 
 Standish was not much deceived by his artifices, how 
 ever, and easily saw thru the time-worn devices of a man 
 who has lived on the wit-crust for many years. 
 
 But the letters and the tissues? 
 
 They surely told the tale of John Charles Rose's utter 
 perfidy. For the papers submitted by the drunkard were 
 in part the original and in part the tissue copies of the 
 correspondence between the Smelter Trust's attorney and 
 John Charles Rose, relative to those details of the Brown- 
 Strong contract which had been overlooked in their per 
 sonal interviews, Johnson having boldly pilfered them 
 from Rose's files for the express purpose of finding, if not 
 a new employer, at least remuneration of some sort. 
 
 Among the papers Johnson had cunningly inserted a 
 tissue copy of the telegram by which the treacherous attor 
 ney had informed Standish of Strong's sale of the Gilpin. 
 The sight of it was a fitting climax to the entire perfidious 
 transaction, and Standish fairly boiled with suppressed 
 anger. 
 
 "So you want a job, do you, Johnson?" he said after 
 a few moments. 
 
 The drunkard nodded his head eagerly. 
 
 " Well, this piece of business is a darn poor recommend 
 for you or anyone else. But it seems to be a straight deal, 
 all right. Say, Johnson, I think, yes darned if I don't 
 feel that I am the biggest sucker in the whole state of 
 Colorado. Nothin' but just soft, mealy, mushy mush. A 
 downright pastepot. By all the tin gods, Johnson, I ought 
 to change my name and begin life over again. Really 
 I am the easiest mark in the whole U. S. A. And blame 
 me," he added musingly, "I always have been and ex 
 pect I always will be."
 
 V THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 273 
 
 The result of this interview was, that the drunkard re 
 turned to Denver the next day and loafed from that time 
 until the first of the following year, when he was called 
 to Plume to keep Standish's books. 
 
 On the first of each month he received a check from the 
 mine owner, which not only supported his family with 
 ease, but also afforded him a glorious outlay for booze. 
 Tt was the greatest snap of his life. One continual jag 
 from June until the following January. He was on a par 
 with that happy African "who went up in January and 
 didn't get down till June."
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 Standish waited until January first of the new year 
 of 1900 before he "called" the enterprising John Charles. 
 
 He had studied the situation very carefully. The proof 
 of the attorney's perfidy was absolute. It could not be 
 successfully refuted. Both the tissue copies and the letters 
 displayed the signatures of the correspondents, and Stand 
 ish recognized beyond a shadow of doubt the well known 
 signature of his attorney. 
 
 Several weeks after Johnson's expose, the mine owner 
 noticed the account of a lawsuit published in the Denver 
 papers, in which John Charles Rose's name appeared as 
 counsel for the American Smelter Co. The evidence 
 was complete. He had been sold, deliberately betrayed, 
 by a man to whom he paid a handsome salary to protect 
 his interests. 
 
 The mine owner thought long and carefully over the 
 manner in which he should sever his connections with the 
 traitor. If he should suddenly withdraw his business in 
 the middle of the year, the fellow might engulf him in a 
 mess of litigation which might last him the balance of 
 his life. No. He would patiently wait until they made 
 the usual settlement the first of the year. Then he would 
 get personal possession of all his effects, obtain the attor 
 ney's receipt in full for all services rendered, which was 
 the Colonel's old established custom, and then he would 
 "call" him good and hard. 
 
 With scrupulous care the attorney had prepared this 
 first annual settlement, politely ushering his principal 
 into his private office ; where, placed upon the office table, 
 was the entire list of his principal's securities and invest 
 ments neatly tied up and catalogued, making up several 
 formidable bundles of bonds, stocks, deeds, mortgages, etc. 
 
 The attorney had also made out a receipt in full for his 
 
 275
 
 276 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 services to date, and had pinned it to an unsigned check 
 with the correct figures filled in, that would balance his 
 account against the estate for the past year. 
 
 Standish examined every detail of the account with 
 anxious care. He checked off and inspected the blocks 
 of investments and securities to the minutest detail, for he 
 felt that the omission of any of his holdings would be 
 fatal to the full amount which the paper represented. He 
 did not care so much about the money, but he dreaded 
 the thought that this traitorous wretch of an attorney 
 might rub in his treachery in some other and as yet un 
 known manner. But gradually as he checked up the 
 various items, his choler rose to the bursting point, to all 
 of which John Charles was wholly oblivious, as, seated 
 at his desk reading his paper, he complacently smoked 
 his cigar. 
 
 Finally, Standish succeeded in checking up everything, 
 and picked up the receipt with the unsigned check at 
 tached. Unpinning the two papers, and signing the 
 check, he thrust the receipt into his pocket, leaving the 
 check upon the table. Then going quickly to the um 
 brella case near the door, he picked up a large leather grip 
 which he had quietly placed there upon his entrance. 
 Bringing it to the table, he began putting into it the vari 
 ous bundles and packages of securities. 
 
 Rose, who had patiently waited all this time, manifested 
 evident alarm at this wholly unexpected and unwonted 
 action of his principal ; and, quickly rising from his chair 
 with his features expressing the utmost astonishment and 
 trepidation, he stepped forward protestingly. 
 
 Standish, who was only half thru stowing away his 
 valuables, looked up. The sight of the perfidious wretch 
 maddened him. 
 
 "John Rose," he said in a fierce, threatening manner 
 which brooked no interference, "you stay where you are, 
 or confound your contemptible, traitorous heart, I'll break 
 every bone in your body." 
 
 And as the tall form of the miner stood between him 
 and the door, the trembling attorney could only wait until 
 the packing process was finished. Then his erstwhile
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 277 
 
 principal, picking up the huge valise and giving a last 
 sweeping glance at the table, walked out of the room with 
 out a word. 
 
 Late that afternoon Standish was visited at his hotel by 
 Colonel Rose. The white-haired old veteran was quite 
 visibly agitated as Standish entered the parlor. 
 
 " What in the name of G is the matter with you, 
 
 Standish?" he said as they shook hands; " Got another fit 
 on?" he added reproachfully as they sat down, recalling 
 the mysterioug disappearance of his tall friend several 
 years previous. 
 
 Standish told him everything, and produced the evi 
 dence, which the Colonel inspected closely. The old gen 
 tleman remained strangely silent for a long time after he 
 handed the papers back ; then he spoke. 
 
 "My boy, you are right. You are fully justified. I 
 don't see how you could have done anything different, 
 except I'm afraid if it had been me, I'd have given the 
 cuss a d d good licking."
 
 BOOK TWO 
 
 THE SUCCESSORS OF W. W. W. 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 " Blow the fife slowly 
 And beat the drum softly, 
 As we carry the young cowboy 
 Away to his grave." 
 
 Thus goes an old ballad of the cow-range. 
 
 As the closing years of the Nineteenth Century filled the 
 American stage with its brilliant company, there was one 
 lone figure among the swift moving throng of the nation's 
 illustrious, who moved with the uncertain painful foot 
 steps of decrepit old age. 
 
 From time to time he exchanged greetings with some of 
 the elder members of the merry throng, but with the 
 young, the boisterous, the newer generation of the Great 
 Republic, he was passed by almost unnoticed and un- 
 greeted. 
 
 It was WILD WOOLLY WEST!* 
 
 Lean, decrepit, old Wild Woolly West, is passing away. 
 
 From out the vast abyss of the long past centuries 
 comes the grim reaper. He of the thousand leagued beard, 
 Father Time. 
 
 As he does so, he holds back the last curtain of the 
 Nineteenth Century for us to take one farewell glance at 
 our departing, but dearly beloved Wild Woolly West. 
 
 Once the most brilliant figure of the Great Plains and 
 the vast recesses of the Rocky Mountains, Wild Woolly 
 West's day is over and he sinks into the abysmal night 
 
 *NOTE. The following editorial from the "Denver Republi 
 can" of January 27, 1903, explains itself. 
 
 "What has become of the 'wild West?'" asks the Chicago 
 
 279
 
 280 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of the ages, while the poor vain imitators of his departed 
 glories do their pitiful stunts under the white tented can 
 vas of the circus, together with those of the passing red- 
 man and the dying buffalo. 
 
 The scout, the trapper, the Indian, the pony express 
 man, the cowboy, the pan miner, and the cattle rustler, 
 all stand upon the stage of the Nineteenth Century for 
 their last curtain. 
 
 But the fierce, demonstrative, impatient audience of the 
 Twentieth Century will not allow even the graceful chiv- 
 alric bow, nor the prolonged exit of these heroes of the 
 old West. 
 
 This new and hurtling generation, like the unsatisfied 
 and ennui-crammed Romans of old, demand the new play, 
 new actors, new thrills, and the long prepared delights 
 of the new century. 
 
 So back, back, we of the brimming tears, gently push 
 our dear old Wild Woolly West. Back, back, into the 
 shadow land of Has Been. 
 
 Tribune. "Wyoming is wearing store clothes and Colorado is a 
 state of farmers." 
 
 The Tribune's question has been asked in so many ways and 
 by so many people that the West has become somewhat tired of 
 answering it. In the course of time it becomes wearying to keep 
 on assuring curious Easterners that there is no "wild West," and 
 that, in fact, the woolly place of fiction is nine-tenths imagination. 
 
 Some day the East will wake up to the fact that the region 
 west of the Missouri is possessed of a higher and more assimila 
 tive type of civilization than many of the narrow, rock-bottomed 
 and hide-bound communities of New England. But the process will 
 be slow. Probably the novelist and the artist will be the last 
 ones to succumb. The novelist still insists that there is a "wild 
 West." He takes a couple of weeks off and travels from Omaha 
 to San Francisco, and the fact that he doesn't see anything wild 
 does not discourage him. He goes home and calls his imagination 
 into play, and introduces boisterous cowboys and all the other 
 conventional characters of the so-called Western school of fiction. 
 These characters, as they are painted in novels, do not exist in 
 the West. Oldtimers say they never did. But the novelist knows 
 that they ought to be there, and his editors pay him good rates 
 for his stuff and write glowing advertisements about its fidelity 
 to nature. And then the artist never allows reality to influence 
 his ideals. If he draws a cowboy he never shows the rather 
 meek looking hired man who officiates on the average Western 
 ranch. He puts on all the picturesque accessories, from shaps 
 to sombrero, and the editors are pleased again. 
 
 So if the Chicago Tribune really wants to know what has 
 become of the "wild West," it should not look any further than 
 between the covers of novels or magazines. The "wild West" is 
 there, and it has been nowhere else for years."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 281 
 
 Back with Coxey's Army, with the Carpet-baggers, the 
 Copperheads, the Boys of '61. 
 
 Back with the '49ers, with the "Old South befoh de 
 wah." 
 
 Back with the Whigs and the Federalists, with the Min 
 ute-men and Paul Jones' immortal crew. 
 
 Back with the Puritans and the Knickerbockers. 
 
 Back with the dauntless Columbus, and the brilliant 
 court of Ferdinand and Isabella. 
 
 Back with the Crusaders and the intrepid Cceur de Lion. 
 
 Back with imperial Csesar and the grim legions of 
 Rome. 
 
 Yea! Back, away back to the days of ancient Greece, 
 with Hector of Troy and the mighty Ulysses. 
 
 Back, back, with the inspired warriors of Israel, with 
 wonder-working Moses and the sun-compelling Joshua. 
 
 And back. Ah! Far, far back, to the first man who 
 ever lived, and contributed his sinew, bone, and thin in 
 tellect to found the first chronicles of human history. 
 
 Pathetic you stand there, Wild Woolly West, with your 
 deep stooped shoulders and your emaciated form accou- 
 tcred with all the gay trappings and ornaments of the vir 
 gin West. 
 
 Your face is bronzed by the fierce glare of the Arizona 
 sun; your beard is bleached by the cold belching snows 
 of Wyoming; your brow is furrowed by the hot grinding 
 sands of the Dakotas. 
 
 Your hands are twisted and crabbed by the constant 
 fling of the lasso, the sharp pull of the reins, the quick 
 pump of the trigger. 
 
 Your legs are crooked and bent from the longs days 
 and weary nights spent in the wild careening saddle ; and 
 your poor old body is wrenched and racked from the sav 
 age kill- strain of the stampede and the deadly chill of 
 the death-breathing "no'wester." 
 
 So back, back, far back into the deep caverns of unend 
 ing Time for you, Wild Woolly West. But fear not, old 
 pard, you, too, are immortal. 
 
 Your record is written with your hot blood spurting 
 crimson over the brown Nebraska prairies, and sinking
 
 282 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 scarlet into the white alkali sands of the Great American 
 Desert. 
 
 You have been carved in marble, Wild Woolly West. 
 You have been cast in bronze. You have been painted on 
 canvas, and -been branded on America's mighty heart with 
 the hot searing brands of your cherished and precious 
 memory. 
 
 So back, back, bully old Wild Woolly West. Back 
 into the tender realm of shadow, forever to dream the 
 fleeting centuries away, to be greeted again on the Judg 
 ment Day. 
 
 Away then, ye vapory forms of the old passing West. 
 Good-bye, forever, dear Wild Woolly West. 
 
 Hush! The curtain cords are loosed. The curtain 
 falls. 
 
 A thunderous shout breaks forth from the younger gen 
 eration of the newer, the modern, and, let us hope the 
 better West. 
 
 "Bring on the NEW," is the insistent cry from the 
 Missouri to the Arkansas. 
 
 Again the curtain rises upon the eternal stage of Time. 
 
 Behold! The new, the virgin, the Twentieth Century. 
 
 Upon the stage and eager to do their brief turn, is a 
 mad rushing crew, the successors of Wild Woolly West, 
 who will write immortal deeds with their red blood upon 
 the white pages of human history as he has done. 
 
 In the spring of 1900, Fiorina was approaching her 
 first accouchement. Standish watched his beautiful child 
 wife very closely, neglecting his business many times in 
 order to be near her. 
 
 For the first time in her life Fiorina seemed to be con 
 scious of another world. A magic, a wonderful region 
 that lay just outside, and yet close within, the little life 
 of Plume. 
 
 It was a soul world ! 
 
 A world in which the lips of angels and the voice 
 of her unborn babe whispered into her listening ears. 
 
 Her dark eyes were filled with the beams of a trans 
 cendent light, which seemed to indicate a complete soul
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 283 
 
 consciousness of a great mysterious realm which existed 
 somewhere in the breast of the eternal God. 
 
 It seemed to Standish that this beautiful maiden wife 
 of his was drinking the divine waters of some celestial 
 fountain. She appeared to have exchanged flesh for 
 spirit; her soul was wrapped in wondrous dreams. For 
 the first time also, the anxious husband detected unmis 
 takable signs that his wife was oppressed by the wild 
 bleakness and smothering monotony of the vast moun 
 tain crags that shut in the tiny life of Plume. It worried 
 him considerably, for he wished above all things, to sur 
 round her at the critical period of her pregnancy with an 
 environment that would please and attract her, and afford 
 her an enjoyment that would detract from any serious 
 or prolonged thought of her approaching motherhood. 
 
 This subject, in connection with the active management 
 of his estate which he had assumed at the discharge of 
 his business agent, convinced him that it would be a good 
 idea to move his little family to Denver. 
 
 In addition to the intense anxiety which he manifested 
 in his wife's delicate condition, he began to realize the 
 truly precarious existence of living in a mountain village 
 like Plume, forever threatened as it was by the falling of 
 one of those scores of crags which hung fearfully and 
 menacingly above the tiny village. Then there was the 
 eternal danger of snow-slides during the long winters ; the 
 ever possible flood of the creek as some overloaded cloud 
 poured its cisterns in the pent up reaches of the gulch; 
 and the ever present and endless hauling of the heavy 
 mountain ore wagons and carts loaded to the brim with 
 death-dealing powder and dynamite. 
 
 And, too, as his heart embedded itself deeper and deeper 
 in the bosom of his little family, all these dangers of the 
 hemmed-in mountain life became greatly magnified in his 
 mind, so he fully determined to tale up a permanent resi 
 dence in the more secure and attractive life of the city. 
 
 His interests by this time had grown enormously. It 
 kept Johnson, who looked after his books, and the sten 
 ographer, whom he employed in his cottage office, busy 
 from morning till night, attending to the correspondence
 
 284 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 entailed by his large financial holdings. If he moved to 
 Denver he could take up business quarters in some large 
 modern office building, where he could manage his in 
 terests with much greater ease and convenience. 
 
 As the result he visited the city and rented a com- 
 modius residence in the "Capitol Hill" region of the city, 
 that portion of Denver in which the elite of the mountain 
 metropolis have built hundreds of palatial homes. He 
 also engaged a fine suite of offices on the top floor of 
 the "Insurance" building, a magnificent modern office 
 structure. 
 
 Acting upon the advice of his old foreman, Nelson, he 
 looked up Nelson's daughter who was living in the city 
 and who was married to a carpenter. He was fortunate 
 enough to secure the services of both husband and wife, 
 the wife as housekeeper and the husband as caretaker 
 of the premises, and whom he lodged in permanent quar 
 ters in the house. This excellent pair assisted him in com 
 pletely furnishing the house, and after several trips to 
 the city, Standish prepared to take Fiorina and Ferrari 
 to their new home. 
 
 As Standish viewed the joyous and happy expectant 
 countenance of Fiorina at the thought of her new home, 
 he felt that he had made no mistake, especially as Fer 
 rari had fully approved of the change. Fiorina did, in 
 deed, shed a few tears as she said good-bye to the old 
 home and her neighbors, but without a doubt her inno 
 cent heart was set upon the charms of the metropolis. 
 
 As the steel wheels of the train ground dismally upon 
 the rails in the twist of the sharp curves as the train 
 made the steep descent into Joetown, Standish and she 
 stood upon the rear platform. The gleaming tip of the 
 great peak from which the little town took its name, was 
 visible at the far end of the gulch, tossing its proud snowy 
 plume high into the serene blue vault of heaven. Soon 
 the outlines of their tiny cottage was lost in the grim 
 shadow of the Great Hills, and as it finally disappeared 
 with all its tender memories, the two clutched each other 
 instinctively. Presently Fiorina looked up at her tall 
 spouse with her eyes suffused with tears and pressed her
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 285 
 
 lips to his, and nestled in his arms while the train des 
 cended the long steep grade to the bottom of the gulch 
 where Joetown lay. 
 
 As they entered the town she recovered herself, and 
 soon her eyes began to beam and sparkle in the keen en 
 joyment of the change of scene. By the time they reached 
 Denver she was fairly radiant, and fully enthused with 
 the gay bustling life which animated the streets and 
 boulevards of the great teeming town.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Where two shallow streams unite their clear waters in 
 the lap of a vast and sandy plain. Does that promise 
 the site of a city? Does that promise beautiful Denver? 
 
 A great misty swamp with a sluggish stream flowing 
 silently through its center into a broad lake. Does that 
 promise the mighty Chicago? 
 
 A high hill, covered with a dense towering forest reach 
 ing down its virgin slopes to mingle with long stretches 
 of slimy tide flats. Does that promise thrifty and popu 
 lous Seattle? 
 
 A quaking quagmire beside a wide river. Does that 
 promise solid, rock-girded, granite-embedded, massive, St. 
 Petersburg? 
 
 No! 
 
 Surely such unseemly places do not promise the site 
 of great and beautiful cities. 
 
 What, then, does constitute the creative force of a great 
 city? 
 
 Surely not the poor desolation of unpromising land 
 scapes, nor the prospect of finding great wealth or estab 
 lishing commerce upon bleak forbidding shores. 
 
 No! Not upon such barren prospects are great cities 
 builded. 
 
 But just as the arts were founded, the trades, the 
 sciences, and all other of man's creditable creations, great 
 cities are but the material weldings and fashionings of 
 man's high-soaring, imperious thought. 
 
 Airy, dancing thoughts, thus fashioned into permanent 
 masses of rock and steel, forming the mighty enduring 
 foundations of teeming towns. 
 
 Great Peter merely wanted a window to look out upon 
 the Baltic, from which to keep an eye on the affairs of the 
 world. His imperious thought, therefore, decreed St. 
 Petersburg, and his heroic Russians dug out the slime- 
 
 287
 
 288 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 reeking swamps of the Neva, almost with their bare hands, 
 and replaced them with crags of shining Finnish granite. 
 One hundred thousand of the poor wretches perished in 
 the building of this world-window of Peter's. But what's 
 to a czar? The city was built, and within its walls now 
 rise the brooding palaces of the absolute Romanoffs. 
 
 Mighty St. Petersburg! Ha! Only an emperor's 
 thought wrought out in imperishable granite. 
 
 A Washington pioneer once said to a comrade, 
 
 "I have seen the vision of a great city which shall 
 rise, even here, upon the tide flats and fir-covered shores 
 of Elliott's Bay." 
 
 Verily, his pregnant thought yea, even tho the envious 
 millions of Tacoma and the Northern Pacific were turned 
 against the weakling gave birth to Seattle, the lusty 
 giant of Puget Sound. 
 
 Thus, too, great, surging, deed-compelling thoughts 
 filled the souls of the first trappers who lived beside the 
 limpid waters of the Chicago. A military post followed 
 the trappers. Then a massacre, with later the grim sur 
 vivors returning undaunted to the same forbidding spot, 
 and reaching their swift thoughts far out over the brood 
 ing waters of Michigan. Then the trader, and it was his 
 conquering, resistless thought at last, which created the 
 mistress of the West, the undaunted glorious triple-barred 
 virgin, "I Will." 
 
 And so, in a minor chord, with Denver. 
 
 Thought! The supreme force of man, the soul power 
 irresistible, voiced its decree, and the Queen City of 
 mighty mountains and wide-spreading plains, arose at the 
 insignificant junction of the shallow Platte and sand-sub 
 merged Cherry. 
 
 DENVER! 
 
 A city of Destiny ! Ripe with Promise ! Flushed with 
 the quick up springing sources of Power! 
 
 Denver, the beautiful, the superb! 
 
 Here is no ebbing and flowing of putrid ocean tides over 
 wide reeking flats of offal and slime, depositing their foul 
 effluvia into the crevices of wharf and pier to breed pesti 
 lence and plague; or the sluggish flow of slow meander-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 289 
 
 ing rivers filled with the sewage and drain of exuding mil 
 lions. 
 
 No ! Such is not the environment of the Western Queen ! 
 
 But instead! The glorious high rolling billows of the 
 Great Plains, reaching grandly upward toward the snowy 
 breasts of peerless mountains. 
 
 Denver! Reclining in the roof garden of America. 
 Serene! Lofty! Fixed as a hanging garden aloft in the 
 sheer and melting blue. 
 
 Denver! Set superb and solitary upon the Western 
 plains, forever looking askance of the ramparts of Ser 
 enity gleaming lustrous in the golden shafts of setting 
 suns. 
 
 An hour's "walk to the east, are the desolate sands and 
 solitudes of the Great American Des*ert. 
 
 An hour's walk to the west, are the silent pine-cloistered 
 recesses of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 Like Jerusalem and Damascus, the jewels of the orient, 
 Denver bursts upon the weary pilgrim from an ocean of 
 bleakness, a thing of rare and radiant beauty. A lustrous 
 pearl shining upon the bosom of solitude, her tapering 
 spires and domes glittering in the rising and setting beams 
 of the sun as flashing spear points of flaming stars. 
 
 In the heat of summer, the white snow peaks waft down 
 their cool pine-scented breezes upon a grateful people. In 
 winter, their towering ramparts serve to break the fierce 
 charge of the arctic legions as they sweep down the con 
 tinent from Assiniboine, Medicine Hat, Swift Current, and 
 frigid Qu'Appelle. 
 
 Ah! Richard Harding Davis, recline in your snug 
 dove cote beside the storm swept Atlantic "in little old 
 New York," content with your hasty car window inspec 
 tion of the West; but good Richard, citizens of Colorado 
 who dwell in the roof garden of that Continental man 
 sion where you cling to its gutters, are quite content ; and 
 prefer "the great white way;" that is a truly, a great, an 
 incomparable, a soul-inspiring, a pure and immaculate 
 WHITE WAY Colorado's shining, gleaming mountains 
 of eternal snow, reflecting the phosphorescent wavelets 
 of the massy twin streams of the Milky Way.
 
 290 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 As this genial friend from the effete East thinks that 
 the West is such a good place to visit, it would be pleasant 
 to have him here again with his merry company, and he 
 will be shown something besides "electric push buttons" 
 at the Denver Club. 
 
 Ferrari sat upon the steps of the south veranda in the 
 warm sunlight of the early afternoon. In his arms he 
 held a bundle of fleece and wool. Inside of which some 
 thing squirmed and twisted from time to time, and as the 
 old man peered into the depths of the downy mass, two 
 little red hands reached upward toward his smiling face. 
 
 Ferrari was a great grandfather. He was holding Fi 
 orina's baby while sjie and Standish were at lunch. There 
 was a world of sentiment in the old Italian's soul. What 
 a glorious land was this United States of America! 
 
 True, he often sighed for the sunny slopes of his Italy, 
 but here, sharing the joy of his grandchild, and holding 
 in his arms the precious thing which proclaimed him a 
 great grandfather, his native land was almost forgotten. 
 He felt a rare richness of years in his soul. The noble 
 patriarchal glory of white hairs. He had tilled the soil 
 of life with all the strength of his body, aided by what 
 soul light he had been dispensated from his Maker. Thus 
 he was supremely content, and as he smiled down into 
 the cherub's face his dark eyes moistened in the flow of 
 his tender thought. 
 
 Presently the happy parents appeared. The question of 
 naming the baby had not yet been settled. Had it been a 
 girl, there would have been no argument, as it would 
 have borne the name of its mother; but being a boy, the 
 parents playfully disputed the name between their love 
 feasts. 
 
 Fiorina insisted upon naming it Standish, but her hus 
 band would not listen. He was determined to name his 
 son, Peter, after his beloved father. As Fiorina had never 
 known old Peter Brown, it was difficult for her to appre 
 ciate the great reverence in which the old veteran was 
 held by his only surviving child. 
 
 As they stood in the sunlight peeking over Ferrari's
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 291 
 
 shoulder at their darling, Standish suddenly thought 
 of an argument which he had overlooked. 
 
 "Yes, we will name him Peter, little one," he said, 
 "both after my father, and after St. Peter, the great rock 
 of our Lord, Jesus Christ." 
 
 Fiorina looked up doubtfully. 
 
 " Peter, Peter," she repeated musingly, "No, no, him 
 Standish. Standish better name than Peter," and she 
 shook her saucy little head determinedly, and taking the 
 bundle from Ferrari's arms she seated herself upon the 
 steps, while the persistent Standish sat down beside her. 
 
 " Yes, little one, we will name the next boy, Standish, 
 but but this dear little fellow," he said, coaxingly, 
 thrusting his big finger under the infant's chin, "we will 
 name, Peter." 
 
 The delicate Fiorina started slightly at the thought of 
 the mother pain of a second child, which phenomenon is 
 one of the most wonderful of nature's. A pain which 
 is the quickest to come, the soonest forgotten, and whose 
 sting is soothed by a transcendent joy. 
 
 Then the young wife laughed gayly, and held up her 
 little one to her husband ; and as their three heads were 
 all close together, she whispered : 
 
 " Peter, leetle Peter, my pretty Petro," and as Standish 
 caressed her delightedly, she smiled up at him merrily, 
 saying: 
 
 " But next time, Meester Brown, his name be Standish," 
 and they both laughed in the richness of their parenthood, 
 while old Ferrari contentedly smoked his pipe and looked 
 dreamily at the mountains.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 A short time after Standish moved to Denver, he ob 
 served an interesting article in one of the city papers. It 
 was headed as follows: 
 
 JOHN CHARLES ROSE. 
 Nominated for Congress by 
 The United Democracy of 
 The th District ! 
 
 The mine owner read the article very carefully. In 
 fact he pondered over it for several days, and making 
 close inquiries as to the political complexion of the dis 
 trict, he found that the outlook for Democratic success 
 was very good almost certain. John Charles was the 
 unanimous choice of the delegates, and in addition to 
 being the regular party nominee, he had the support of 
 several of the largest corporations of the state. 
 
 Ever since the "Silver" issue, during which the Repub 
 licans lost the state for the first, time, the district had gone 
 overwhelmingly Democratic. But after Mr. Bryan's first 
 defeat, the Republican stalwarts of the state had rallied 
 the remnants of their party and were making substantial 
 gains, tho as yet far from overcoming the large Dem 
 ocratic majority. 
 
 Silver had been defeated so signally in the great na 
 tional campaign of 1896, that those Coloradoans who had 
 once supported the cause of the white metal so loyally, 
 gradually became apathetic under the overwhelming 
 forces of the East, and the state was slowly but surely 
 swinging toward the Republican column again. 
 
 The absorbing question with Standish soon became, 
 could John Charles possibly be defeated? For he was 
 determined, as he reviewed the situation, that a cheat, a 
 traitor, and an acknowledged rank corporation lawyer, 
 should be beaten at any cost. 
 
 293
 
 294 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 He frankly admitted to himself that he would certainly 
 enjoy defeating the unprincipled dog, and candidly ad 
 mitting his personal selfishness in this respect, and also 
 acknowledging that it would be sweet revenge to kill this 
 puppet's political ambitions for all time to come, he did 
 not overlook the fact, that really and truly, from an un 
 prejudiced standpoint, it would be a disgrace for a com 
 monwealth to send such a representative to congress. With 
 this broad and true conviction, he settled down with a 
 grim determination of defeating Rose at the polls. 
 
 Standish, with thousands of other staunch Republicans 
 in Colorado, had abandoned the G. O. P. in 1896, on 
 account of its negative stand on the silver question. But 
 he had accepted the several signal defeats of silver with 
 good grace, hoping that the white metal would eventually 
 find its way to universal coinage upon a settled and equit 
 able ratio with gold ; and that the world of finance would 
 be compelled to recognize silver sooner or later, in order 
 to keep pace with the greatly increasing expansion of the 
 world's commerce. 
 
 During the wild delirium of the times, for Colorado 
 by reason of its large production of the metal was a unit 
 for free silver, Standish had drifted into the ranks of the 
 Silver Republicans ; then he voted the Fusion ticket ; then 
 the Democratic, until all hopes of silver's recognition was 
 past; but in these last few years he had returned to the 
 Republican fold, and was pleased to find himself again a 
 staunch supporter of the doctrines and traditions of Lin 
 coln, Grant, and Blaine. 
 
 Quickly allying himself with the Republican campaign 
 managers shortly after the announcement of Rose's candi 
 dacy, the mine owner devoted himself almost exclusively to 
 politics, with the sole object of defeating his old attorney 
 good and roundly. A careful poll was made of the dis 
 trict at his expense, which developed a probable Demo 
 cratic plurality of at least a thousand. Within the district 
 was Plant B of the American Smelter Co. It employed 
 some five hundred men at this time, and the poll indicated 
 that most of them voted the Democratic ticket, who as 
 true Coloradoans, were still loyal to the traditions of sil-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 295 
 
 ver. Tho the task seemed hopeless, Standish felt that 
 there was a chance to do some effective work among these 
 men, and he astonished, with his deadly earnestness, those 
 campaign workers who at first were inclined to laugh at 
 the raw awkwardness of the tall mine owner. However, 
 they were soon forced to admit, that in spite of his awk 
 wardness and greenness in politics, he was obtaining sub 
 stantial results, for almost every day as the campaign 
 progressed he made increasing acquisitions toward the de 
 feat of John Charles Rose. 
 
 Inspired by his example, the Republican workers soon 
 developed from a half hearted apathetic group of partis 
 ans, into a body of enthusiastic and earnest campaigners. 
 Standish contributed generously and early to the cam 
 paign fund, and almost before the battle was fairly on in 
 the Democratic camp, the Republicans were fighting 
 fiercely. 
 
 Standish had considered very carefully the cost of his 
 venture in politics, and he quickly saw that it would be 
 folly for him to make his contributions blindly. He made 
 up his mind therefore, that in return for his subscriptions 
 to the campaign "bar'l", that he should be privileged 
 to personally oversee and disburse the entire fund. In 
 this manner, tho he was bled pretty hard, he had the 
 satisfaction of knowing just where and how the money 
 was spent, thus eliminating to a certain extent, the posi- 
 bility of any extensive steals by certain corrupt and un 
 scrupulous party workers. 
 
 As election day approached, the Republican managers 
 were fairly astounded at the unique and daring tactics 
 displayed by the aroused mine owner. He had rallied 
 all of his friends, a large number of the tenants of his 
 extensive real properties, and many of their friends, to 
 the support of the Republican candidate for congress; 
 while several of the strongest corporation men of the state, 
 to whom Standish had made strong representations backed 
 by his large personal holdings in their enterprises, were 
 openly repudiating Rose. 
 
 The leading independent newspaper of the mountain 
 metropolis began to turn its editorial batteries upon the
 
 296 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 character of Rose, presenting undeniable proofs from time 
 to time, that the Democratic candidate for congress was 
 secretly backed by several of the most powerful and 
 iniquitous corporations of the city and state, including the 
 American Smelter Co. 
 
 Then the question was raised by the Democratic man 
 agers as to who furnished the money to keep up those 
 attacks, for it was well known even at that time, that one 
 had to "come thru," the watchword of one of its 
 owners, with a large wad in order to command the col 
 umns of that particular sheet. And while the enemy 
 raged and roared thru its various journals as to the 
 irresponsibility of the sheet, the Republican managers 
 smiled to themselves it had been a long time since they 
 had "got next" to such a goodly bar'l as the mine owner 
 was disbursing with free, yet firm, hand. 
 
 It is very interesting to watch a political campaign in 
 Colorado. With both sexes voting women upon a par 
 and equal footing with the men; the wife and daughter 
 voting side by side with father and son, a great treat is 
 afforded to that perhaps still uncivilized in this notable 
 respect Easterner, who has never before beheld the won 
 ders, delights, advantages, and, possibly, some evils but 
 not enough to count of an election where women are 
 recognized as equal suffragists with men. 
 
 The Republican headquarters on Sixteenth Street was 
 a model of neatness and jovial hospitality. Choice cigars 
 were always to be had for the asking, and wet goods were 
 dispensed at the expense of the party in a saloon around 
 the corner. 
 
 During the period of registration, a constant stream of 
 carriages drove up to its doors, and thousands of citizens 
 were duly registered at the courthouse across the street. 
 
 Here would come a hack from the "tenderloin" or slum 
 district of the city, filled with disreputable men and wo 
 men. As the hackman opened the door of his vehicle, 
 the stench of musk and cheap perfume would almost 
 knock him down, but he generally remained pluckilly 
 at his post, and would politely bow his frowsy crew into 
 headquarters, and often enter himself at the saloon around
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 297 
 
 the corner to regale himself at the expense of the party, 
 if it was nothing but lemonade. 
 
 Immediately following him would probably be a cab or 
 auto containing a servant girl from Capitol Hill, who 
 would be duly registered by a polite lady party worker, 
 the lady managers of the campaign proving themselves 
 very efficient, and it was wholly thru their efforts that 
 hundreds of working women were registered. 
 
 And thus clear up and down the scale of human so 
 ciety, the rich and the poor, the good and bad, were en- 
 veigled by the various party workers into the almost hope 
 less mesh of politics. 
 
 Day after day the registration period passed with stren 
 uous efforts put forth by both parties. After which a care 
 ful check indicated a heavy and substantial registration 
 gain thruout the district. It was very encouraging, 
 and Standish felt that it foretold Republican success, al- 
 tho, as usual, both sides claimed the advantage. 
 
 Almost every other portion of the ticket was abandoned 
 by the Republicans, so intense was their desire to elect 
 a Republican to congress. If they could concentrate upon 
 this one point, and elect a Republican congressman from 
 Colorado, the stronghold of silver, it would forever re 
 dound to their credit and fame in the annals of the G. O. P. 
 It would break that solid delegation of Democrats 
 and Fusionists which at this time made up Colorado's sole 
 representation in congress, and the mild enthusiasm which 
 Standish had infused into the managers at the outset of 
 the campaign, soon developed into such a fierce and madly 
 enthusiastic struggle, that Democracy trembled in its 
 strongholds. 
 
 Its leading newspaper stormed and spouted with a con 
 stant cry of boodle and blackmail, the unholy defamation 
 of the spotless character of John Charles Rose, and the 
 base betrayal of the sacred cause of silver. 
 
 Standish smiled at the cry of boodle. He certainly was 
 putting up a good wad, but he felt that it was spent in a 
 good cause ; and he continued to good-humoredly keep the 
 campaign bar'l well filled and everybody was happy. 
 
 A few days before the election he was visited by Colonel
 
 298 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Rose, and the old gentleman, after making a few common 
 place remarks which Standish felt sure were the mere 
 preliminaries of something more important, said: 
 
 " Standish, what's this I read in the papers about your 
 putting up most of the money for the Republican cam 
 paign? I never knew before that you were such a good 
 Republican as all that." 
 
 " Well, I guess it's all true, Colonel, I'm spending quite 
 a wad with the boys for my little fling in politics," re 
 plied the mine owner frankly. 
 
 "Urn well what you doing it for, you big chump?" 
 continued the Colonel hotly, ''coming down here from 
 Plume, and letting these blood suckers drain you of the 
 good money which Peter and I tried so haid to save for 
 you." 
 
 It was plain that the old gentleman was getting pretty 
 close to something, and it was in vain that Standish tried 
 to evade his close questionings upon the subject. The old 
 man persisted, and Standish finally thought it best to 
 come out plainly and tell the truth. 
 
 " Colonel," he said, "since you are so much concerned 
 as to why I am taking an active part in this campaign, 
 I must tell you frankly, that I am going to give John 
 that 'd mned good licking' which you suggested to me 
 after I settled with him last January. But instead of 
 giving him a bodily trouncing, however, I just intend to 
 kill him politically in this community." 
 
 The Colonel fairly winced under the almost brutal 
 force of his friend's remarks, for in spite of his apparent 
 acknowledgment of his son's shortcomings, the father- 
 love, the deep parent concern and family pride of the old 
 gentleman were plainly visible, and Standish regretted 
 that he had allowed himself to speak as he did, tho 
 secretly he felt that the visit of the Colonel was made 
 solely at the request of the son. 
 
 " D m it, Standish, can't you call your dog off," the 
 
 Colonel blurted out heatedly after a brief silence, " Can't 
 you let up on that old deaf a little? John has made his 
 mistakes in life like all the rest of us, and I know per 
 sonally, that he has deeply regretted his action in that
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 299 
 
 smelter deal. In fact, I'm not ashamed to say, that I 
 have come to you at his request, to patch that matter 
 up in some manner to your liking. Now, honest injun, 
 Standish," the old man continued earnestly, "can't you 
 let up a little. My boy has worked a lifetime to get to 
 the point where he could make this run for congress 
 and now you step in. You! The son of the best friend 
 I ever had you step in and spoil the whole business. 
 
 D m it, I beg of you, Standish, for old-times sake, to 
 
 let up a little. Don't rub it in too deep, my boy." 
 
 Standish was deeply touched by the old gentleman's 
 remarks, but his heart was not softened toward John 
 Charles. He bitterly recalled the snobbishness, the vici 
 ous cutting egotism, all the overbearing remarks which 
 the young attorney had made to him in years gone by, 
 even before he had at last basely betrayed him in the 
 smelter deal; and he felt in the very innermost depths 
 of his soul, that this man, John Charles Rose, was false, 
 utterly false, to the very core of his existence. No ! He 
 would not stay his hand. He would strike as he intended, 
 and perhaps the fellow thus publicly rebuked, would 
 reform and start upon a more honorable career of truth 
 and veracity. 
 
 " Colonel," he finally replied in his most kindly spirit, 
 "I can, indeed, never express to the full, my true and 
 affectionate feelings toward you my great esteem, my 
 hearty respect; but I am compelled to say to you, that 
 I believe your son to be possessed of very questionable 
 and unworthy principles, and every success he has along 
 those lines will only tend to further corrupt and con 
 firm him in those views. And I believe that the best 
 thing that can happen to a man of his disposition, is 
 for him to suffer a severe and crushing defeat. In my 
 association with him I have found him false to the core. 
 False in his philosophy, false to his parents, his family, 
 his associates; and the abject slave of an insatiable am 
 bition. I distrusted him from the beginning, and it 
 was only the most sincere consideration and affection for 
 yourself, dear friend, that I trusted him for one moment 
 with the affairs of my estate, and you yourself are aware
 
 300 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of his utter perfidy. For years previous to my employ 
 ment of him, he contemptuously insinuated his great 
 superiority over me, because I had only a common school 
 education, and he was a college man. Now let him learn 
 that the common school product has at least spirit, honor, 
 and the courage of its convictions. I give you my word, 
 dear friend, that if I thought he was capable of taking 
 a chastening from a man whom he had formerly looked 
 down upon in contempt, I would pass up this fight. But 
 no he is too far steeped in collegiate and dogmatic 
 egotism to ever adjust himself to the circumstance and 
 play fair. Success in this battle will only tend to further 
 degrade a man of his character, failure may disillusion 
 him. If you succeed in calling me off, I do not believe 
 that he would think of it afterward in any other light, 
 but that I was a sucker and he was clever enough to buy 
 me off. He deliberately betrayed your recommendation 
 of himself to me within six months, and I do not hesi 
 tate to say, that I believe he is again capable of using you, 
 his own father, as a mere tool to further his own machina 
 tions. How can you ask me, or any one else, to support 
 and countenance such actions, Colonel," continued the 
 earnest man with deep feeling. "God knows I love you, 
 not only for my own sake, but for your loyalty and kind 
 ness to old Peter Brown, and it grieves me deeply to be 
 the cause, however innocent, of bringing you one single 
 heartache ; but my manhood utterly revolts at feeding the 
 selfish ambitions of John Charles Rose, and I sincerely 
 hope that thru this defeat, which I believe he will surely 
 suffer, that he may be enlightened as to how far an un- 
 scrupulous^ unprincipled man may go before he meets 
 with that inevitable defeat which invariably awaits just 
 such an individual." 
 
 The Colonel had listened attentively to his tall friend. 
 Within his soul he felt the truth of the remarks, even 
 tho his heart beat love and compassion for his son. 
 Finally he spoke. 
 
 "Standish, there are times when it behooves men not 
 to resist fate. I feel that you are right. And in any 
 event, I should not as a man of honor, allow my sense
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 301 
 
 of right and wrong to be seduced by the beat of the 
 heart. Yes, you are right," he continued reflectively, 
 "and I honor you for it. Ah, my dear boy, I see much 
 of the brave old Peter in you. I shall never forget that 
 first day at Shiloh Church, he stood where only heroes 
 could, to hold the fading Union line. God bless you, 
 brave old comrade ; and you too, his faithful son." 
 
 As the old gentleman rose to go, Standish silently ex 
 tended his hand, which the Colonel clasped warmly ; and 
 as the door closed behind him, Standish could hear his 
 heavy footsteps and the "tap-tap" of his cane upon the 
 floor as he walked toward the elevator. The Sbund of 
 it unnerved him; "I'm sorry. My God! I'm so sorry," 
 he cried, and he buried his face in his hands.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Thru all the mazes of the campaign Standish had kept 
 one card in reserve. Tho feeling almost sanguine that 
 Rose would be defeated, yet to positively insure it, he 
 held this last trump, which he played as a final clincher. 
 
 The morning of the day before the election, John 
 Charles opened the front door of his residence to get 
 the morning papers, which were thrown on the front 
 porch by the carriers. He looked eagerly at the front 
 page of the independent paper which had been caricatur 
 ing and lampooning him so zealously thruout the greater 
 part of the campaign. He wondered what the final 
 spasm would be. 
 
 When the attorney's eyes rested upon the hideous car 
 toon on the front page, and read the glaring headlines 
 of the article devoted to him, printed in large double 
 type and red ink, he felt that all was lost. 
 
 Standish Brown had inserted the entire correspondence 
 of the Gilpin smelter deal, and in a lengthy interview, 
 had exposed the full treachery of his former business 
 agent. And as Rose read the entire sensational article, 
 the absolute truth of it was driven into his soul by an 
 acute pang of conscience. His pride and egotism com 
 pletely deserted him for the moment, and he fairly 
 cringed in the agony of defeat. He seemed to be in the 
 presence of a tall, manly figure, who quoted him a para 
 graph from a certain notebook: 
 
 "Must learn to tolerate his ignorance and affect good-fellow 
 ship in his presence." 
 
 Yes, John Charles, "affect good fellowship" in the 
 presence of true men, to your great and certain peril. 
 
 Affectation is the outer garb of hypocrisy, and hy 
 pocrisy is punished in the last and deepest sunk pit of 
 the inferno. Even Mohammed, founder of the religion 
 
 303
 
 304 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of the Sword-hand, places the hypocrite far beneath the 
 regions of -incest, adultery, treason, and murder; setting 
 him howling and cowering in the blackest depths of hell. 
 While the most terrible rebuke to the hypocrite ever 
 recorded, was spoken by the gentlest of men to the dis 
 sembling Pharisees. 
 
 Hypocrisy is a crime from w r hich afflicted individuals 
 rarely recover. It is also a crime which men are sure to 
 detect. It can never be hidden so cleverly or buried so 
 deeply, but that some one will find and unearth it. Like 
 the counterfeit or sweated coin, there is always some keen- 
 sighted, sensitive-fingered individual who will detect its 
 imperfections and fraud. It is also a crime which of all 
 others seems to arouse the greatest indignation and hatred 
 in the breasts of its victims, witness the burning ex 
 pletives of the Son of Man upon its perpetrators. 
 
 As Rose sat at breakfast that morning, he was the 
 picture of despair. He had burned the expose paper in 
 the grate, for he felt that it would not only worry his 
 wife, but would also require a great effort on his part 
 to deny and excuse the charge, and thus add another lie 
 to his already heavy account. 
 
 His wife noticed his deep dejection, however, and she 
 tried her best to cheer him by reading the favorable 
 notices from the Democratic papers. The items did cheer 
 him somewhat, and he partially recovered himself. 
 Things did not look so bad after all. From every por 
 tion of the district came encouraging reports. Silver 
 was not nearly as dead as the Republicans would have 
 it. Indeed, there had been no important party defec 
 tions thruout the entire campaign, and perhaps there was 
 a fighting chance yet. By the time he left for the office 
 that morning, he had shaken off considerable of the 
 effects of the shock of the expose. 
 
 At headquarters he met the questioning Democratic 
 managers with assuring smiles, and branded the entire 
 article as a base forgery. The managers looked pretty 
 glum, however, but said nothing disparaging, and re 
 turned to the charge with grim determination. It didn't
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 305 
 
 really matter much, for the campaign was ^so far ad 
 vanced that it was now almost the mere matter of getting 
 out the vote. 
 
 Later in the forenoon Rose closeted himself with the 
 editors of the Democratic evening papers, and absolute 
 denials of the Gilpin smelter deal were written. They 
 would in a measure parry the blow, and as the election 
 occurred the following day, it would be too late for any 
 investigation which public-spirited citizens might choose 
 to make. As the day lengthened, Rose's spirits arose, 
 and that evening in the chambers of the Jacksonian Club, 
 he was almost exultant in his anticipations of victory. 
 
 Thruout the entire day preceding the election, the 
 Republican managers worked almost exclusively among 
 the smelter employees. The original documents and cor 
 respondence of the Gilpin expose were exhibited in the 
 windows of a grocery store a short distance from Plant 
 B, and placed under the guard of a pair of Pinkertons. 
 Hundreds of copies of the newspaper containing the ex 
 pose were distributed among the smelter men as they 
 came from their work. Under promise of protection by 
 the Republican managers, several staunch partisans who 
 were employed in Plant B, openly and forcibly discussed 
 among their fellow workmen, the iniquities of John 
 Charles Rose. 
 
 When the Republican workers finished their labors 
 late that night, they felt confident that a great change 
 of opinion had been effected among the smelter employees, 
 and that many of them would vote for the Republican 
 candidate for congress on the morrow. 
 
 Standish Brown retired late that night feeling con 
 fident of victory. 
 
 John Charles also retired late, very late, and appeared 
 quite hopeful. He and his managers had put up a great 
 fight, and they believed that they would carry the district 
 by the usual majority.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Election day dawned bright and fair. The senior 
 United States Senator of Colorado and his wife were the 
 first voters to arrive at " Precinct 5," a voting center of 
 one of the lower Capitol Hill wards. 
 
 The Senator had arrived from Washington late in 
 September, and had taken an active interest thruout the 
 campaign. 
 
 He impressed one as a fine specimen of Western man 
 hood as he stood chatting with the election judges waiting 
 for the polls to open. His face was kindly, his eyes 
 bright, and his white beard and hair gave him a patri 
 archal air that held the close attention and respect of his 
 listeners. In his heroic battle for the lost cause of silver, 
 he had aroused the admiration of the entire nation. 
 
 At the Republican convention held in St. Louis in 
 1896, when it became evident that the party had de 
 cided to completely abandon silver, and would insert in 
 its platform a solid plank for the gold standard, this 
 heroic son of Colorado then and there severed his con 
 nection with that great party whose standards he had 
 more than once advanced to victory. He deliberately 
 and resolutely abandoned the G. 0. P. and also those 
 tender ties of sentiment which years of pleasant and loyal 
 fellowship with its most famous leaders had made pre 
 cious. He bravely declared for the deep silver sentiment 
 of his constituents, the State of Colorado, and the Moun 
 tain West; and left the convention hall with his loyal 
 colleagues, his eyes moistened with tears, but his soul 
 and honor absolutely true to the desires and dictates of 
 his people. 
 
 By appearing thus early and promptly at the polls 
 with his good wife, the Senator was only proving once 
 more his enviable reputation as a consistent and high- 
 minded suffragist. 
 
 307
 
 308 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 In a short time the election officers announced their 
 readiness to accept votes, and after the Senator and his 
 wife had been given ballots they entered the booths. 
 The Senator emerged first, and he gallantly waited for 
 his better half to appear, she having been given the first 
 ballot. 
 
 "Guess wife has got some fog on her glasses, or else 
 she's scratching mighty hard," he whispered to the man 
 in charge of the ballot-box, and they both laughed 
 heartily. 
 
 Presently the delinquent appeared from behind the 
 canvas flap of the booth, and after giving a half-amused 
 
 fiance at her guilty husband, she gravely deposited her 
 allot, the Senator following a moment later. 
 
 The next parties to vote were a negro coachman and 
 his wife, who were in the employ of a millionaire mine 
 owner. Their dusky faces were wreathed in smiles as 
 they deposited their ballots. Voting is a great novelty 
 to these Americanized children of Africa, and what a 
 pleasure it was for the faithful wife to come in the com 
 pany of her husband, to voice their sentiments as equal 
 partners, both in marriage and suffrage under the laws 
 of an enlightened commonwealth. 
 
 America! The great leveler of caste. 
 
 The rich soil of equal rights from which every man 
 and woman developes unprejudiced, the resources of their 
 individuality. 
 
 The promising son of Ham, enjoying the suffrage pre 
 rogative of the nation equally with the patriarchal intel 
 lectual Senator of a great commonwealth; and the dark- 
 skinned maid of Africa, given equal privileges of suffrage 
 with the accomplished matron of the nation's elite. 
 
 When Standish, and Ferrari who had been nat 
 uralized arrived at the precinct, unaccompanied by 
 Fiorina, however, who still lacked a few days of the 
 voting age, it resembled nothing so much as a church 
 sociable, the election judge and clerkships being equally 
 distributed among the men and women, save that the 
 men were allowed the privilege of smoking. The precinct 
 was not very densely populated, it being in the Capitol
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 309 
 
 Hill district, where there were only a few residences to 
 the block; thus the voters arrived slowly, and often at 
 considerable intervals. In order to pass the time, the 
 lady officials had brought their sewing, and were also 
 being regaled by confections and refreshments which the 
 different party organizations were kind enough to supply ; 
 while the men folk indulged themselves in cigars, 
 swapped yarns, and read the morning papers, 
 
 Ferrari was much interested in the voting process, and 
 Standish called in the services of one of the clerks to 
 assist the old man in marking his ballot in the desired 
 manner. As the old Italian proffered his ballot he took 
 off his hat and made a low formal bow to the officials, 
 which greatly amused them, but which action they un 
 derstood 'better after Standish had given them a brief 
 synopsis of his remarkable career. Many times after 
 this incident as Ferrari took his afternoon stroll, wheeling 
 little Peter, he was pointed out as a brave Italian veteran 
 who had fought under the famous Garibaldi. 
 
 Things were running smoothly at the precinct where 
 Gus Johnson voted, and he had finally succeeded in coax 
 ing his wife to vote. Mrs. Johnson had been registered all 
 right, but when it came to actually voting, she felt a deep 
 revulsion in her soul. 
 
 Poor little woman, she saw life only thru dark-stained 
 glasses. Election day was always a day of horror to her. 
 It invariably meant a prolonged spree upon the part of 
 her husband. If his party was victorious, his frequent 
 libations celebrated the event. If that same party went 
 down to defeat, he drowned his disappointment in drink. 
 So that, in either event, he arrived home in the wee small 
 hours, hopelessly and disgustingly intoxicated. 
 
 In addition to the sorrow which election day invariably 
 brought to the little careworn woman, she possessed that 
 morbidly supersensitive feeling about casting her vote 
 which is often observed among the woman suffragists of 
 Colorado. 
 
 Why was it right to vote for John Smith and not for 
 Tom Robinson. What did this technically worded
 
 310 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 amendment mean? Why should this be voted upon at 
 all? And so clear down the line, when a conscientious 
 woman has her hands full of insistent domestic and 
 household duties in addition to the deep affliction of a 
 drunken husband or some similar burden, she very often 
 has neither the time or inclination to inform herself upon 
 political matters. Yet } with that pride which is char 
 acteristic of her sex, she does prize the privilege, tho not 
 desiring to vote blindly, nor in opposition to her husband. 
 
 Consequently, there are many good and worthy women 
 in Colorado, who under the stress of their domestic cares, 
 and quite confused in the interminable mass of discussion 
 in the press, the varying views of their better informed 
 neighbors or those possessed of ulterior motives, refuse 
 absolutely at times to exercise their right of suffrage. And 
 thus refusing, they feel comforted, perhaps, that altho 
 they have not raised their voices for the right whatever 
 that may be neither have they subscribed to a possible 
 wrong. 
 
 The men are very content in the matter, however, for 
 whether equal suffrage uplifts or degrades woman, the 
 Colorado man feels that like the great boon which was 
 granted the slave during the Rebellion freedom, the 
 Commonwealth of Colorado has also granted freedom to 
 woman; and that at least in this respect civilization 
 can no longer point the finger of scorn at him and call 
 him tyrant. 
 
 At this particular election, however, Johnson could 
 point his wife to the candidacy of the ignoble John Charles 
 Rose, and she felt blindly that she had good cause to cast 
 her ballot against that former employer of her husband 
 who had so suddenly, and according to her husband's 
 statement, so unjustly discharged him. 
 
 The Johnsons accordingly voted late that afternoon, and 
 after supper Johnson started down town to watch the elec 
 tion returns in company with his mistress, Drink. 
 
 According to the early bulletins, the day had passed 
 off quietly. There had been occasional rumors of riot and 
 fraud in several precincts of the slum wards, but they
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 311 
 
 had proved to be of an insignificant nature and could have 
 slight bearing on the general result. 
 
 Standish had visited the Republican headquarters sev 
 eral times during the day, but he stayed at home in the 
 evening, telephoning occasionally to inquire about the re 
 turns. At 11 :30 he felt satisfied that Rose was defeated, 
 altho the balance of the Democratic ticket was in the lead. 
 At 1 :30 A. M. he rose to answer the insistent ringing of 
 the phone, the Republican chairman announcing to his 
 bar'l man, that with the completed returns, the Repub 
 lican candidate for congress had been elected by a small 
 but decisive plurality. 
 
 "Well done," said Standish, and hanging up the re 
 ceiver, he returned to bed and slept soundly till the rising 
 bell. 
 
 With John Charles it was different. At 1 :00 A. M. the 
 Democratic managers were talking fraud to him. At 2 :00 
 A. M. they had arranged a plan to contest the election, but 
 at three o'clock, John Charles started for home, weary, 
 worn out, and at last admitting that he was decisively and 
 hopelessly defeated. He was too exhausted to rage, too 
 sick at heart to protest, and he finally crawled into bed to 
 toss restlessly for the balance of the night,
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 At a late hour the night of the election, the "Silver 
 Dollar," a famous saloon of Denver, was crowded to the 
 doors. The bartenders, with their neat white aprons, fat 
 paunches, and round, flushed faces, were passing out 
 liquors as fast as they could be drawn. 
 
 Mostly hard liquors that night. It was cold and raw 
 outside, and besides, the intense excitement of the day 
 seemed to require hard whiskies and brandies. The hour 
 was near at hand when the election results would be 
 known and the usual bets lost and won. The bartenders 
 had many wagers on deposit which their patrons had 
 made, and all were watching the bulletin boards and filling 
 themselves for the final result. 
 
 Gus Johnson could still stand up to the bar. He was 
 logy, to be sure, but his pedal extremities still managed 
 to maintain their equilibrium. Perhaps if he were not 
 leaning so heavily against the bar it would have been dif 
 ficult for him to stand ; but as it was, he was bravely on his 
 feet with his head weaving unsteadily over it. 
 
 How he and Drink were enjoying themselves. 
 
 A bulletin had just arrived. He turned his head un 
 steadily toward the blackboard as the crowd pressed for 
 ward. And as the operator wrote the bulletin out, the 
 buzz of excitement gradually increased with the posting 
 of each line, until a loud cheer, mixed with oaths and 
 drunken shouts, arose from the inebriated throng. 
 
 Johnson couldn't see very well, and he was also afraid 
 to leave the bar. He had fought to obtain that coveted 
 place, and he did not propose to surrender it. He would 
 wait where he was, and listen to what they were saying. 
 
 " By G ! Rose is done for," said a husky voice at his 
 
 elbow, "Snowed under deeper than the drifts on Long's 
 Peak. D him, that smelter deal fixed him plenty." 
 
 " There's no use in talkin', Bill," replied a voice which 
 
 313
 
 314 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 was almost lost in a dense fog of " Green River," "Silver's 
 
 as dead as h . Two years ago a yellow dog could have 
 
 run on a silver ticket and been elected, but now she's 
 deader than old Hank Tabor." Then the pair forced 
 their way up to the bar to settle their wager. 
 
 Johnson, who had been eagerly listening, started. 
 
 Yes, it was really true. Everybody was saying so. 
 Even paying their bets. Little Johnny Rose straight- 
 laced, blue-grass, Kentucky Rose; gone down and out 
 with a smash. Hurrah ! 
 
 And maintaining himself with the tenacity of a bull 
 dog as the crowd surged forward, the drunkard motioned 
 to the bartender to fill his glass. The liquor was poured 
 out promptly, and as Johnson seized the glass with 
 trembling fingers, Drink said to him, 
 
 "We did it, sweet. You and I, brave old pard. Rose 
 would never have been beaten, if you and I hadn't told 
 Bi-own." 
 
 The drunkard looked at her. Yes, it was she, his beau 
 tiful mistress, Drink. She had never looked more beauti 
 ful to him than she did that night. Her dress was superb. 
 It was draped about her luscious form exposing here and 
 there her bare pink flesh. And as she crept up into his 
 lap and he felt her warm amorous breath upon his cheek, 
 he sighed and embraced her with fierce delight. 
 
 When he early began to court her she was such a shy, 
 timid thing. But then he was, too. And when their lips 
 had first met, they had both hidden their faces in shame. 
 He in his innocence had thought of what his mother 
 might say if she knew. But later, as he met his love from 
 time to time, that first kiss had led to the embrace; and 
 that to lust, then to the liaison, and now she was the su 
 preme and regal mistress of his soul. 
 
 In the Theatre Terrible there is no more fearful charac 
 ter than Drink, and as the drunkard clung desperately 
 to the bar of the Silver Dollar that night, there was 
 enacted a drama within his soul which neither pen nor 
 voice could describe. 
 
 He and Drink talked over the days of their old ac 
 quaintance begun so long ago in the gay youth of the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 315 
 
 man. How they laughed and exulted in the memory of 
 old times, their delicious secret meetings and liaisons. 
 Those were the days before they had really committed 
 any wrong, any crime. Johnson sighed at the thought of 
 that happy and innocent long ago. For ah, since then 
 there were many dark crimes, many silent, mutely-accus 
 ing graves. Together in their deep retrospection and con 
 templation, Drink and he entered the cemetery of his 
 soul. 
 
 They could not avoid it, because it was a part of their 
 existence, their ghost-world. There were graves in that 
 melancholy plot, of beings who had once existed with 
 them, but now were no more. 
 
 Johnson trembled as they entered the somber-hued plot 
 of the cypress and the willow. But Drink did not. She 
 smiled at him significantly, and he tremblingly followed. 
 They came to a headstone. Upon it was engraved the 
 name "DECENCY." Johnson remembered the death of 
 Decency well. He had brought Drink home with him, 
 and as they entered the house, Decency, who abhorred 
 Drink, fled out into the bitter winter night, and the next 
 morning they found her frozen to death. They had both 
 attended her funeral, and had wept crocodile tears over 
 her fresh grave. She was such a foolish little thing, so 
 frail, so delicate, and yet so fair. Ah! It was indeed a 
 sad thing, this untimely death of reproachful-eyed De 
 cency. 
 
 A little further on was the grave of Pride. At the 
 thought of her demise, Johnson cowered and wept, but 
 Drink only laughed scornfully and said "Fie." 
 
 Johnson had once really loved Pride fondly, and his 
 affection had been warmly reciprocated by her. Her 
 death was a terrible blow to him, and one from which he 
 had never fully recovered. 
 
 But Drink, who had noticed his extreme trepidation at 
 the sight of Pride's grave, looked at him mockingly, and 
 spat and stamped upon the grave of Pride, exlaiming: 
 
 "Oh, the miserable hussy! She and I could never 
 have lived in the same house." 
 
 Now, Johnson had pledged his hand to Pride in that
 
 316 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 long ago. They were to be friends for life, and soon 
 after he left college he had promised himself that he 
 would always remain true to Pride. But one day Pride 
 had discovered Drink and he in a shameless liaison, and 
 when he returned home to greet her, he found only her 
 cold, lifeless corpse. The sudden discovery of his guilt 
 had killed her. Ah! It was terrible to think of this 
 death of his beautiful, peerless Pride. 
 
 The third grave was that of Love. It had no headstone 
 as yet. The drunkard was afraid to put one there. Some 
 how, the thought that Love, tender, bewitching Love, 
 was dead, fairly maddened him. Drink knew of this 
 -weakness of his, and whenever Johnson grew ashy pale, 
 and glared at her with those same fierce, despairing eyes 
 which had witnessed the murder of Love, she would put 
 her arms about him and in the intoxication of her kisses he 
 would forget. 
 
 Love had been foully murdered by Drink. 
 
 How divinely she had once shone forth from the eyes 
 of the drunkard's wife in the early years of their mar 
 riage. True, she had often reproached him, and drooped 
 somewhat; but again she would revive, and gleam 
 brightly out upon him from his wife's eyes like some 
 beautiful star. 
 
 But Drink was implacable in her jealousy, and one day 
 as Johnson staggered into his home in company with 
 Drink, his wife, with tender Love shining in her eyes 
 for the husband, the man, was pushed roughly aside, even 
 as she reached out her arms, by a brutal, disgusting 
 drunkard. 
 
 And as she stood there heartbroken in the fading cheer 
 of their little home, with her babe, unconscious of im 
 pending evil, sleeping peacefully in its cradle near the 
 hearth, Love leaped from her soul, and with a shriek of 
 despair, rushed at Drink in a frenzy of wild, bitter pro 
 test. But as Drink met Love and they struggled fiercely, 
 there, in the sacredness of that little home, Drink arose 
 from the struggle coolly wiping the blood of her victim 
 from off her dagger. She had deliberately slain Love.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 317 
 
 It was foul murder. And yet Drink smiled exultantly at 
 the thought of it. 
 
 "Oh, God! Oh, mercy I" screamed Johnson as they 
 stood there listening to the wail of the sad winds which 
 swept dismally over the unmarked grave of Love. 
 
 "You! YOU!! You killed her," he cried, "Murder 
 ess, fiend, you killed her," he repeated. 
 
 But Drink only stared coldly and contemptuously at 
 him, and, then clutching him by the throat, she ex 
 claimed : 
 
 " Ah I Yes. It is easy to accuse me thus, but come 
 come to where you have slain your victim," and, dragging 
 him forward out upon the bleak prairie of his soul, she 
 pointed toward a low, sandy mound hidden in a depres 
 sion of the wide, lonely waste. Johnson struggled fiercely, 
 but in vain. Drink was the stronger. 
 
 There was no mistake. This was, indeed, the very place. 
 He was facing his own crime now. Here was where he 
 had ravished Shame. 
 
 After the death of Love, who had given him so much 
 that was beautiful and sacred, he had met Shame. She 
 had innocently tried to save him from the error of his 
 ways, and had brought him out here on this lonely prairie 
 under the bright stars, and face to face with God, where 
 Drink would not see them. Johnson had long listened to 
 her prattle, but all the time he felt a consuming, unholy 
 lust within him. 
 
 Shame was a being who was innocent and trusting; a 
 pure virgin dedicated to the saving of souls, and who 
 could have saved him if he had only been a man. But 
 here, here upon this lonely prairie under the glittering stars, 
 he had remorselessly ravished her, and when he had heard 
 Drink coming in the distance, had killed her to hide his 
 more horrible crime. He had never forgotten the terrify 
 ing moment when Drink discovered him in this awful 
 crime. He had known her dread supremacy before, but 
 from this moment on, he became her abject slave. 
 
 Over the cold corpse of Shame, Drink joked with him. 
 The death of Shame had really delighted her. It meant
 
 318 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 that the last rival to the affections of the drunkard was 
 gone. 
 
 When Shame is lost, almost the last light-ray of the soul 
 is extinguished. 
 
 Drink is a creature of darkness. Like the fading belle, 
 she looks best at night. 
 
 So together they had buried the lifeless form of Shame 
 out on the bleak prairie. They tramped in the earth 
 where they laid her, until it was almost as hard as rock. 
 Then they replaced the sod carefully over the spot. To 
 day the grave of Shame is unknown save to the guilty 
 pair, and it is only admitted in the soul of the drunkard, 
 in those rare moments when he is free from Drink, that 
 one day Shame was missing and never returned. 
 
 "Yes, you and I beat that old Kentucky Rose, didn't 
 we, sweet?" said the mistress of Johnson as he left the 
 saloon and staggered into the street. 
 
 The drunkard's form weaved unsteadily from side to 
 side as he walked toward home that night. Drink and 
 he were having such a merry time. By this time she was 
 getting actually hilarious and was insisting on more of 
 the pleasure, causing him to stop at almost every saloon on 
 the way. 
 
 At the last one she was beginning to be quarrelsome. 
 She had observed her old friend, Dregs, stealthily fol 
 lowing them for some time. She had never as yet intro 
 duced Dregs to Johnson. Many times she had threatened 
 to do so, but somehow she had put it off. Why not do 
 it now, she was feeling so reckless and gay? It would be 
 such fun to see how he would take it. So Drink in her 
 mad hilarity beckoned to the thing. It was as if Satan 
 had beckoned to his arch fiend. 
 
 Inhabiting the very lowest depths of the deepest and 
 darkest pit within the soul is the foul being, Dregs. 
 
 Not until a man has fed his system with liquor for 
 years, does it become possible for this hideous soul shape 
 to tread the boards of the Sublime Stage. Not until all 
 other phases of the liquor habit have been experienced,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 319 
 
 does Dregs lift its loathsome head above the mire of 
 Sin. 
 
 It is the last, the supreme horror which afflicts a drunk 
 ard, compared to which, death in the most excruciating 
 and torturing form possible, is sweet pleasure. 
 
 Dregs comes from the very bottom. It is the horrible, 
 crawling, reeking slime which inhabits the very bottom 
 of the Pit of Horrors. 
 
 At the time Drink beckoned to Dregs, Johnson had 
 nearly lost his equilibrium. He was staggering fear 
 fully, going three steps sidewise to the one he advanced. 
 In fact he was rapidly losing all power of locomotion. 
 
 It was after midnight, at which hour the saloons 
 should have closed according to law; but as it was elec 
 tion night, they were wide open and undisturbed by the 
 city officials. 
 
 One block ahead of the drunkard was the last saloon 
 which he would pass on the way home. 
 
 Could he reach it? 
 
 The street was surging about him. It was an ocean 
 of which "the cobble-stones were waves. Still Drink, 
 maddened by his slowness, was urging him on. 
 
 Dregs crept stealthily forward, and reaching them, 
 Drink boldly introduced her. 
 
 The thing was horrible. She was the foul putridness of 
 that life of which Drink was the flesh. 
 
 Johnson was terrified at the sight of the creature, 
 and besides, being unable to navigate further, he fell 
 upon the sidewalk writhing helplessly while these two 
 fiends urged him on. 
 
 In vain, he could not rise. 
 
 But Drink was not to be denied the continued pleas 
 ures of the bowl. Besides, had not Dregs but just come,( 
 and she too must be regaled? 
 
 The saloon was only a few hundred feet away. Their 
 victim must be forced to reach it at any cost, and then, 
 how they would all enjoy the brew. 
 
 So they urged the drunkard on. Drink soon confess 
 ing her inability to move him, suggested significantly 
 that perhaps Dregs could.
 
 320 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 And as evidence of her powers of persuasion, Dregs 
 pulled forth from her person a wriggling, hissing snake, 
 and, under the admiring eyes of her friend, she held it 
 toward her victim. 
 
 Johnson staggered to his feet with a cry of horror as 
 the hideous reptile hissed about his head, and he moved 
 forward a few steps, only to fall again. Dregs then moved 
 the thing closer to the drunkard, its revolting green eyes 
 and foam-frothed fangs creeping closer and closer to its 
 victim's throat. Again Johnson rose, only to again fall 
 prostrate and helpless. But Dregs was pitiless, and Drink 
 watched the play in deep fascination. 
 
 In her last endeavor to drive her victim to the saloon, 
 Dregs loosed the reptile full at Johnson's body. It wrap 
 ped its reeking folds about him in suffocating smother, 
 and the drunkard writhed as he felt its putrid slime 
 oozing and dripping upon his bare hands forced out by 
 the horrible clutching constriction of the monster. After 
 coiling itself tightly about its victim's body and throat, 
 it then lifted its hideous head upon a level with the 
 drunkard's head and poured its foul nauseating breath 
 full in his face. 
 
 Oh! The terrible reality and horror of the Tremens 
 to the poor inebriate. 
 
 Yet the Tremens is only one of the countless creatures 
 of Thought. Only one of the innumerable players who 
 do their turn unspeakable, upon the Sublime Stage of the 
 Theatre Terrible. 
 
 Johnson's shrieks rang out again and again in dread 
 ful agony. A white froth gushed from his mouth, and 
 he writhed upon the pavement in convulsions, clutching 
 wildly at his reptile enveloped throat. Then he lost con 
 sciousness. His form stiffened out in the filth of the gut 
 ter, and the white hoar-frost of the early morning fell 
 pitilessly upon his distorted features. 
 
 The Tremens had claimed its own.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 At midnight Mrs. Johnson decided to go in search of 
 her husband. It was a matter of cold, hard business with 
 her. With him at home and in bed, there was no ex 
 pense and no getting up at some unearthly hour of the 
 morning and losing that valuable sleep, which in her 
 vexation over his condition was sure to result. 
 
 Their only child, Harry, a lad of ten years, had been 
 much interested in the election returns and had sat up 
 much later than usual. He was now buried in a huge 
 volume of "Arabian Nights" borrowed from the public 
 library. 
 
 Calling to him, they put on their wraps, checked the 
 fire, and together they left the house in search of the 
 head of the family. A couple of blocks away they boarded 
 a street car bound for the city, Mrs. Johnson was as 
 familiar with her husband's haunts as a farmer is of the 
 possible whereabouts of a stray cow. 
 
 She had questioned the propriety of taking Harry with 
 her, for in the heart of this thin-faced, plain little woman 
 was a world of affection for the boy. She not only had 
 the mother's natural affection for him, but also at the 
 time when she first fully comprehended the extent of her 
 husband's depravity, she had transferred her wifely af 
 fections from him and added them to the love of the 
 mother for the son. 
 
 Harry had often observed his father under the in 
 fluence of liquor, but his feelings of disgust had to a 
 certain degree been repressed by the natural affection 
 which a child bears toward a parent. 
 
 As they sat in the car, however, Mrs. Johnson felt that 
 she had acted wisely in bringing the lad with her, for 
 he would observe in his father's affliction a lesson that 
 would forever exempt him from the curse of drink. She 
 
 321
 
 322 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 had the fond hope that the son would grow to be that 
 man which the father was not. 
 
 They left the car near the Silver Dollar, and Mrs. 
 Johnson went boldly into the front apartment where 
 the cigar stand was located, and which was separated 
 from the bar by handsome mahogany doors. One of the 
 bartenders observed her and stepped forward. Harry 
 was watching her thru the window. In answer to her 
 inquiry, the bartender said: 
 
 " No, he is not here. Left some time ago." 
 
 The bartender failed to observe any emotion upon 
 her face, and there was no sympathy lost between them. 
 
 As she left the saloon Harry joined her and they 
 started over the same route which Johnson had navi 
 gated so unsteadily an hour or so previous. She stopped 
 at every saloon on the way, and made the same inquiry, 
 Harry remaining outside and half shivering in the keen, 
 frosty air of the morning. The little fellow was very 
 proud of his mother's confidence, and as she came out 
 of each place he took her hand protectingly in his as 
 they trudged up the street. Finally they reached the 
 last saloon which intervened between them and home. 
 It was the one which the drunkard had so vainly tried to 
 reach while in the clutch of the Tremens. 
 
 "No," replied the bartender, "he has not been here 
 this evening." 
 
 " Strange," she mused, "he was at the place just be 
 fore this. Perhaps he has passed us and is at home by 
 this time." 
 
 She had often taken him from this same place. Once 
 the bartender had tried to deceive her. But upon threat 
 ening him with arrest if he did not tell her the truth, 
 he had finally given in, and she had found her spouse 
 stowed away in the rear of the place under a billiard 
 table. The proprietor had never deceived her since, and 
 his word was to be trusted now. 
 
 "He must have gone home while we were coming 
 down on the car," she thought, as they stood in front 
 of the saloon deliberating. But as Harry's keen eyes 
 glanced down the street he saw something lying in the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 323 
 
 gutter, where a beam from the street lamp chanced to 
 play upon it. His mother's eyes eagerly followed his 
 pointing finger. 
 
 "No!" she thought, "It cannot be him. She had 
 never found him in the gutter before. Must this last 
 crowning disgrace be heaped upon her?" 
 
 They walked carefully forward. 
 
 It was undoubtedly the form of a man. 
 
 The poor woman nerved herself, but Harry still clasp 
 ing her hand shrank back from the sight. Releasing 
 his hand she stooped down. To her unspeakable horror, 
 it was, indeed, her husband. 
 
 She felt his pulse. He was alive. She shook 
 him. He was unconscious. His mouth was covered 
 with a froth that had frozen, and which clung in an icy 
 fringe to his faded mustache. The expression on his 
 face was ghastly and terrifying. 
 
 "Look look, son," she whispered fearfully, as Harry 
 pressed timidly forward. 
 
 "Drink! Drink! Oh, my God!" she moaned wildly, 
 and the little fellow's eyes opened wide with horror. 
 
 They could not hope to get him home in that con 
 dition without a cab. She would go to the saloon and 
 ring for one. But Harry would not stay beside his father 
 while she did so, for his heart was terror-struck. 
 
 Under the circumstances they returned to the saloon 
 together and the bartender rang for a cab. Soon they 
 heard it approaching and they went out to the curb. As 
 it stopped in front of them, they pointed to the prostrate 
 form, and the driver drove to it. 
 
 As they drove home Harry's eyes opened wide with 
 wonder. The ride in the cab was a great novelty and 
 he looked up at his mother and smiled boy fashion ; then 
 observing his father's bloated, distorted features he shud 
 dered. 
 
 The cab driver helped them into the house with their 
 burden, and after paying him they put the inebriate to 
 bed. 
 
 Harry had taken off his clothes, and he came in his 
 night-gown to where his mother was sitting peering into
 
 324 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the dim firelight. He climbed up into her lap and put 
 his arms about her neck. As he looked into her face its 
 expression almost terrified him and he began to snuffle, 
 and soon was sobbing upon her breast copiously. She 
 held him close, and once in a while as she looked into the 
 firelight, a big tear would trickle down over her own worn, 
 thin cheek and drop upon the lad's gown. 
 
 "Mama, where where is God?" the boy said sud 
 denly, -checking his tears. 
 
 "God God?" she repeated questioningly, wonderingly 
 to herself, " Why, God lives in heaven, darling." 
 
 " Well, where is heaven, then, mama," he persisted. 
 
 She felt that she could not answer. A child's question 
 often confounds the wisdom of the sage. 
 
 "Why do you ask, Harry?" she said evasively. 
 
 " Because I'm going to tell him about "papa," he re 
 plied determinedly. 
 
 " You look for him in your dreams then, to-night, and 
 perhaps you will find him," she answered, and soon 
 she felt his form droop in slumber and she carried him 
 to bed. As she tucked him away he was fast asleep. 
 Perhaps in that innocent slumber his tiny thought was 
 exploring the boundless infinite for the great and all- 
 merciful God.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 As Standish sat in his office the afternoon of the day 
 following the election, his secretary, who was forced to 
 act as general utility man during Johnson's absence, 
 ushered in Mrs. Johnson. Standish instantly recognized 
 her and offered her a chair. She sat wearily down in it 
 and Standish could see that she was full of trouble. 
 
 " What can I do for you this afternoon, Mrs. John 
 son ?" he asked kindly. 
 
 "I came to tell you, sir, that Mr. Johnson is sick in 
 bed and won't be able to work for several days," she re 
 plied, looking up furtively. 
 
 Her husband's unconquerable liquor habit had lost 
 him so many positions that she did not doubt but that 
 his services would likewise be dispensed with at this 
 place. Then would come the terrible days of unpaid 
 grocery bills and protesting landlords demanding the 
 long overdue rent. The patching and re-patching of 
 Harry's threadworn clothes, and the quieting of his 
 boyish discontent as he saw other boys well dressed with 
 plenty of nickels and dimes jingling in their pock 
 ets. Lastly, and even more terrifying, certain familiar 
 loose tongued neighbor women, who would visit her reg 
 ularly and remark upon the oft repeated calls of cred 
 itors and collection agents who would throng the doorway 
 of their cottage. 
 
 How much money her fallen husband had put down 
 his throat in the form of liquor, God alone knew. Enough 
 at any rate, to have made them independent several times 
 over, and have given them a competency and a home. 
 
 But vain, perishing thought of prosperity and peace. 
 And so the little woman was prepared to again bare her 
 bleeding breast to the gnawing teeth of the wolf. But 
 somehow as she looked into the mine owner's kindly face, 
 she felt she was gazing into the countenance of a good 
 
 325
 
 326 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 true man, one of that kind of whom she had often 
 dreamed. There was certainly no doubt about it, but 
 then, she had looked into other kindly faces besides this 
 one, and it had always been the same. The kindness, 
 patience, and endurance of her husband's employers had 
 been exhausted in the end, resulting in his ignominious 
 dismissal, and again the hopeless struggle of the wife to 
 make ends meet. 
 
 The poor woman rose mechanically from her chair 
 after she had delivered her message. At the most she 
 hoped that Mr. Brown would not question her that she 
 might leave the office undisturbed, and that her husband 
 might recover sufficiently in the next few days to re 
 sume his work at least for a little while longer. But 
 alas, as she started for the door, Standish spoke to her. 
 
 "Oh , Mrs. Johnson," he said, "Please don't 
 
 hurry," and with a low sigh she turned and stood irreso 
 lutely before him. 
 
 "Now don't you worry about anything, Mrs. John 
 son," he continued, "Tell Gus to take plenty of time, 
 and not to come back to work until he feels like it. Have 
 you plenty of money and things to do with?" he added 
 earnestly. 
 
 She nodded her head affirmatively. 
 
 " If you haven't, I will gladly advance you all you want 
 All I ask of you, Mrs. Johnson, is to take life as easy 
 as possible. You don't look overly strong, and perhaps 
 you ought to hire a nurse to look after Gus. Let's see, 
 I'll advance you his salary for the first half of the month," 
 and turning to his desk he started to write out a check 
 for the amount, when another thought struck him. 
 
 "You see, Mrs. Johnson, I feel pretty good over the 
 results of yesterday's election and I suppose Gus must 
 have been pleased at the defeat of his old employer. Well, 
 I'll just make out this check for an extra hundred 
 to show Gus how good I feel about our victory. You had 
 better deposit it with some bank, Mrs. Johnson, and 
 draw it out as you need it, because one doesn't want much 
 money lying about in these days of robberies and hold 
 ups."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 327 
 
 As he handed her the check and smiled indulgently 
 down on her she could scarcely contain herself. 
 
 " Oh, thank you, sir, thank you," she exclaimed as she 
 turned toward the door again, and he escorted her to the 
 elevator. If he could have seen the expression on her 
 countenance when she reached the street and had time 
 to really grasp her situation and gaze upon the gener 
 ous check unobserved, he would have seen the first gleam 
 of light that had illumed her Avorn features for many 
 a long day. 
 
 Standish thoroly believed in doing good, in being 
 charitable as one went thru life. During the long hours 
 of thought which he had spent upon the subjects of char 
 ity and philanthropy, he had made up his mind that if 
 every one conscientiously administered to the individual 
 cases which came under their own observance, that the 
 scriptures would be fulfilled to the letter. 
 
 If all men administered to every legitimate demand 
 made upon them in the name of duty and charity, the 
 unfortunate would always be provided for, and the bur 
 den be equally distributed among all men. Strong in this 
 truth, he had vowed that he would do his share at least; 
 and assist every case of charity that came under his own 
 personal observation and take care of as many more as 
 God gave him the means to do.
 
 BOOK THREE 
 
 THE MEASURE OF A PAUNCH 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 IN 1902, Theodore Dodge stood at bay. The seven 
 teen years of his active career in Colorado had 
 brought him to the most critical period of his busi 
 ness life. For altho he was a man of very aggressive 
 disposition, and had proven himself adroit, resourceful, 
 and masterful in the development and management of 
 the various enterprises with which he had been identi 
 fied; yet he had displayed a creative, professional genius 
 rather than that of the fighting staying qualities of the 
 successful financier. 
 
 After he had placed the Sampson-Smith upon a divi 
 dend-paying basis, Thomas Bayard had brought him to 
 Denver and made him the general manager of the various 
 mining properties which Bayard and his associates had 
 consolidated under the control of one large corporation. 
 The young Ohioan after several years of hard work had 
 made good on the proposition, and had won the esteem 
 and confidence of his employers to the highest degree. 
 Then came the construction and building of the Missouri 
 and Colorado smelter, of which Thomas Bayard was the 
 chief promoter and financial genius, and Theodore Dodge 
 the builder and engineer. 
 
 In 1899, however, when the Smelter Trust absorbed the 
 Missouri and Colorado, Dodge felt that his career in the 
 smelting business was over; for the Guggenhones, who 
 controlled the Trust, had left no doubt in the minds of 
 the old Missouri and Colorado magnates, but that the 
 Guggenhone control of smelting affairs was to be abso 
 lutely supreme. Mayer Guggenhone and his seven sons 
 
 329
 
 330 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 intended to be to silver what Carnegie was to steel; 
 the Rothschilds to copper; Havemeyer to sugar; Rockefel 
 ler to oil. 
 
 Mayer Guggenhone, originally a modest Philadelphia 
 lacemaker, had founded a great house, which was to be 
 perpetuated in America by the consolidated efforts of 
 himself and his seven worthy sons, as was founded the 
 famous house of the Rothschilds in Europe. 
 
 When Theodore Dodge first came in contact with young 
 Solomon Guggenhone, he felt for the first time in his 
 life, that he had met a personality that was decidedly 
 his superior, at least in a business way. 
 
 The suave, cool, irresistible, and masterful acquisitive 
 instinct of the young Jew, completely blanketed the sen 
 sitive, professional, creative atmosphere of the Ohioan; 
 who had the intolerable feeling in the presence of the 
 young smelter king, that he would brook no equal in 
 smelting affairs, much less a superior. Rule, kingship, 
 absolute dominion, being indelibly stamped upon the 
 features and implanted within the soul of Solomon Gug 
 genhone^ Altho Dodge had readily and pleasantly ac 
 quiesced in this supremacy, yet such was his acute indis 
 position to become a mere subordinate in a business 
 where he had once been so prominent, that he prepared 
 to sell out his entire holdings in Smelter and devote him 
 self to other interests. 
 
 For several years he had been interested in a steel plant 
 located at Trineblo, which had gradually developed from 
 a small struggling foundry, to an extensive plant that 
 began to furnish the Inter-mountain region with steel 
 rails and structural iron; and whose able and enterpris 
 ing management had purchased for a mere pittance, 
 great tracts of coal lands in Colorado and adjoining states, 
 amounting to nearly six hundred square miles ; a domain 
 'that overshadowed the entire anthracite field of Pennsyl 
 vania. The concern also owned dozens of limestone quar 
 ries, thousands upon thousands of acres of iron and man 
 ganese lands in Colorado, Wyoming, New Mexico, and 
 Utah; and had acquired scores of valuable water rights, 
 and enormous interests in numerous other natural re-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 331 
 
 sources of the West. In fact, experts had calculated that 
 two hundred and fifty million was a low estimate of the 
 actual value of the great and as yet almost undeveloped 
 properties of the Colorado Steel Corporation. 
 
 As far back as 1890 Dodge had become interested in 
 Colorado Steel, and later, as he began to realize the vast 
 natural resources which this infant corporation was grad 
 ually acquiring for insignificant sums, he had invested 
 quite heavily in its stocks and bonds, until, in 1895, his 
 holdings entitled him to a place upon the board of di 
 rectors. By 1898, he and his associates were almost in 
 control of the corporation, having lacked only a few votes 
 to control the election held that year. And when, in the 
 latter part of 1900, he had succeeded in disposing of his 
 entire holdings in American Smelter, and went into the 
 open market and purchased all Colorado Steel that was 
 offered, he owned personally on the first day of January, 
 1901, fully one third of the entire capital stock of the 
 concern. This made him by far the largest individual 
 stockholder of Colorado Steel, and he secured enough 
 proxies from his friends to enable him to control the 
 election of that year, and he became its president. 
 
 Early in 1902, however, at a time when he had scarcely 
 gotten a firm seat in the presidential saddle, he suddenly 
 became aware that a new and powerful combination was 
 forming to wrest from him and his loyal associates the 
 control of Colorado Steel. The thought was maddening 
 to him, for in his rich anticipations of the active per 
 sonal management of the corporation he had fairly rev 
 eled, the corporation having by this time achieved a 
 fame and opulence which made it a power in the West, 
 and it had also established a sufficient name in the East 
 to be listed on the New York Stock Exchange. Suddenly 
 this concern which had passed for years as an insignificant 
 dabbler in the coke and steel industry, became a giant 
 and influential corporation of national repute. As finan 
 ciers and experts examined its enormous undeveloped 
 resources, they became amazed, and the stock of the cor 
 poration leaped by spurts and bounds far above the low 
 price it had maintained for years.
 
 332 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Quite in the spirit of that period, when industrials of 
 all kinds were swelling to enormous dimensions in a vain 
 endeavor to keep pace with the demands of both legitimate 
 trade and undue speculation, it had been frequently 
 rumored that the United States Steel Corporation was 
 about to absorb this young giant of the West; and that, 
 not being able to corner its stock, it was going to crush 
 the concern by invading the West with a greatly cheapened 
 product. During the spring of 1902 the stock of Colorado 
 Steel rose and fell nervously. Some one, some power, was 
 certainly manipulating it. Bidding up the price to coax 
 it out on the market, and then shoving it down a few 
 points to scare timid stockholders into a selling mood. 
 
 Dodge's New York brokers constantly, endeavored to lo 
 cate the source of this manipulation, but without suc 
 cess. So soon after being driven from the smelting busi 
 ness by the invasion of an Eastern crowd in the per 
 sons of the Guggenhones, Dodge was now twisting and 
 turning again upon the spit of Finance, being unmerci 
 fully squeezed by the remorseless silent pressure of another 
 Eastern crowd, who evidently intended to wrest from him 
 the control of Colorado Steel. 
 
 Unfortunately for Dodge, it was in just such a cir 
 cumstance that he usually lacked nerve, combativeness, 
 the ability to take punishment. He had obtained con 
 trol of Colorado Steel with comparative ease. No one 
 had actively opposed him. In fact he had been warmly 
 welcomed by nearly all the interests of the concern, 
 coming as he did with the prestige of his brilliant suc 
 cess as a creative administrative genius in smelting affairs. 
 Had he met with any decided opposition, he probably 
 would never have macle the attempt at control, but as it 
 was, he slipped into the office of president with compara 
 tive ease. 
 
 Almost devoid of that rapacious instinct of the typical 
 American trust magnate, Dodge was evasive, and pre 
 ferred sliding over or around opposition, rather than beat 
 ing it down by that sheer brute force which characterizes 
 the unholy warfare of many of our prominent million 
 aires. If he could not evade the issue, he preferred to
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 333 
 
 retire or run away, rather than close in mortal combat. 
 Thus in the fierce battle of American finance he was la 
 boring under an almost fatal handicap, for there are times 
 in the critical mazes of the fight that men must stand 
 by their guns, and must both deliver and receive hard 
 lusty blows; requiring frequently, the delicate finesse 
 of a Talleyrand; at other times, the grim blood and iron 
 policy of a Bismarck. Therefore the battle often becomes 
 one of sheer brute force, in which the man with the 
 biggest bag of dollars is declared the victor. 
 
 Just such a battle as this was rapidly coming to a 
 head in the affairs of Colorado Steel. A great brute force, 
 with a huge bag of dollars, was threatening to destroy 
 the peace and prosperity of one of Colorado's greatest 
 corporations and irrevocably bind it to its own selfish 
 purposes. 
 
 Soon it became evident that Dodge must either fight 
 or run ; finally it became even more evident to him, that 
 much as he preferred, he could not run ; he would have to 
 make a stand and fight. His entire interests, his repu 
 tation, his prestige, the money of his friends ; and< lastly, 
 his very heart and soul were centered in the existence 
 and control of Colorado Steel. Yes, he would fight. 
 He would battle to the death, either to emerge triumphant 
 with renewed prestige and maintained excellence of rep 
 utation, or be forever buried in the ruin of his idol. 
 
 For months Dodge fought with the cunning of a fox 
 to obtain proxies for the coming election. Occasionally 
 his brokers tested the market with high-priced offer 
 ings, but nothing came out. Whenever any of the stock 
 did appear on the market it was instantly bid up to 
 prohibitive values by the opposition. Indeed very little of 
 it was offered, for the opposition had long since gathered 
 in nearly all of the holdings of the smaller stockholders. 
 When the battle for stock was finally finished in the open 
 market, the mystery of the secret opposition was re 
 vealed in the person of the redoubtable John Wreckor 
 Grabbe, who fresh from his raid on L. and N., was fol 
 lowing his usual tactics in the game of Colorado Steel; 
 having apparently conceived the idea of buying up the
 
 334 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 stock, obtaining control, and then disposing of it at a 
 greatly advanced figure to the United States Steel Corpora 
 tion, the greatest industrial octopus of the nation. In 
 fact, Grabbe claimed in his press interviews at the time, 
 that he had obtained a tip from the First Citizen*, himself; 
 that it would be a nice arrangement to obtain control of 
 Colorado Steel before it got too big, and thus bind the 
 domination of the United States Steel Corporation su 
 preme upon everything in the nation that spelled steel. 
 
 Concealing his actions among a score or more of brok 
 ers, Grabbe had carefully organized his attack and slowly 
 and insidiously secured large blocks of Colorado Steel 
 almost unobserved by the management of the concern. 
 But when the fight for proxies was on he could no longer 
 conceal his identity ; and he stood in the mental vision of 
 Theodore Dodge, a figure of remorseless, menacing, brute 
 power. 
 
 NOTE. The first citizen of the United States at this time, 
 being conceded by portions of the press as centering in the person 
 of James Pierpont Morgan.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 Mrs. Theodore Dodge settled herself comfortably in the 
 luxurious drawing-room of the "Endymion," which, at 
 tached to the "Burlington's No. 1," was coursing smoothly 
 over a perfect roadbed thru the pleasant flower embow 
 ered suburbs of Chicago. She had arrived on the "Penn 
 sylvania" from New York early that morning, and after 
 a little shopping at "Marshall Field's" she had taken the 
 superb afternoon flyer of the Burlington for Denver. 
 
 Annette, the maid, after arranging the wraps and toi 
 let articles of her mistress, had seated herself in one of 
 the two wicker parlor chairs with which the drawing- 
 room was furnished, and with her daintily slippered feet 
 cocked up on the edge of the window, was deeply buried 
 in the depths of a magazine. Occasionally she raised 
 her head, which was neatly dressed in a white lace cap, to 
 gaze out on the green fields and white farmhouses, as the 
 swift moving train sped by them on its arrow-like flight 
 across the long, flat meadows of Illinois. 
 
 Mollie Rogan Dodge was returning to Colorado after an 
 absence of nearly four years. She had spent much of 
 that time in London with her bosom friends, Mrs. New 
 man and Mrs. Walch, who were acknowledged leaders in 
 London's smart set, and who were the wives of two of 
 Colorado's wealthiest mining men. Occasionally the trio 
 would visit the American colonies in Paris, Florence and 
 other continental centers; and the swift, gay and lux 
 urious years had sped by in greeting and feasting that 
 wealthy, aristocratic, and pleasure-loving society of the 
 "States," which annually crosses the pond to do Merry 
 England and the Continent. 
 
 Several times Mollie had left the gay circle in London, 
 spending a few weeks touring Ireland and Wales. She 
 visited many of the spots which her dear old mother had 
 so often mentioned in their discussions of the Emerald 
 
 335
 
 336 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Isle, and memories had flowed sweetly in on the Col 
 orado colleen as she roamed thru the quiet villages and 
 among the charming lakes of Hibernia. The soul of dear 
 old Mrs. Rogan had long since passed thru the Pearly 
 Gates, having been prayed safely across the Dark Val 
 ley and on into Paradise with all the dignity and gran 
 deur of the Roman church of which she had been so long 
 a faithful and sincere communicant. 
 
 The years had treated Mollie kindly, and as she sat 
 there looking dreamily out of the car window, she ap 
 peared almost as fresh and attractive as when she became 
 the bride of Theodore Dodge. True, her cheeks had lost 
 some of the bloom of youth, but the secrets of the toilet 
 had preserved her once naturally beautiful skin, into a 
 soft, velvety, pink-tinted, fresh complexion that was at 
 once charming and attractive. Her once plump and rosy 
 hands had become somewhat thinned, and slightly be 
 trayed the coarse fingers of her hard-working ances 
 tors, but even that defect was cleverly concealed by the 
 art of the manicure, thru a perfect manipulation of the 
 fingers and the careful fashioning of the exquisitely tinted 
 and curved finger nails. 
 
 Fate had decreed that Mrs. Dodge was never to become 
 a mother, and Theodore and she had buried their dis 
 appointment in that hope in the participation of all the 
 other joys which life afforded. Her husband lived very 
 close to his business. He scorned a life of travel and 
 ease, and, like many other American business men, rather 
 than lose a few precious moments of the swift million 
 accumulating life of the New World, he bound himself 
 to his business by prodigious labor, content to furnish his 
 wife with wealth and the means to travel, while he re 
 mained at home with his idol business. 
 
 Mrs. Dodge had been much worried of late by news 
 paper and cable accounts of the great fight that was on 
 in Colorado Steel. Her husband had never directly men 
 tioned the strain of the battle in his letters, but between 
 the lines, the wife's quick intuition could read his troub 
 led condition ; and one day in the midst of the gay Lon 
 don whirl she had suddenly awoke to the fact, that with
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 337 
 
 her brave husband in the thick of a great financial bat 
 tle, the place of a true and loving wife was at his side, 
 to lighten with her presence and love the weight of the 
 conflict. So, hurriedly getting her traps together, she em 
 barked for New York on the first steamer, and once safely 
 ashore in Gotham, had immediately sought her husband's 
 brokers for the latest news of the battle. 
 
 She found them in a state of great uncertainty. Her 
 husband, having been outpointed in the contest for proxies, 
 and who was apparently facing positive defeat at the hands 
 of John Wreckor Grabbe who probably held enough 
 proxies to control the coming election had filed an applica 
 tion with the United States Court in Denver to have the 
 regular corporation election postponed, alleging a con 
 spiracy of certain stockholders to control the election. 
 Thus her husband had averted for a time at least, the 
 defeat which at first seemed so certain. However, Grabbe 
 and his associates were making a fierce fight in the courts, 
 and it was only a question of time when the election of 
 officers by the stockholders of the corporation would be 
 declared in order by the court and the thing settled for 
 good. The brokers assured her, however, that her hus 
 band having thru this move gained considerable time, was 
 making every effort to strengthen his forces and had by 
 no means given up the battle. With this information, 
 Mrs. Dodge lost no time, and had taken the first train 
 for the West. 
 
 How she was enjoying this last portion of her jour 
 ney. The great Baldwin was eating up the miles with 
 swift regularity, those long miles which lay between her 
 and that magic place home. 
 
 After a quick run from Chicago, the train stopped at 
 Galesburg for orders. The huge Baldwin was breathing 
 heavily in the short respite, the valves of the air-pump 
 wheezing with a fierce "chug-chug," as it recharged the 
 exhausted cylinder with the mighty force which controlled 
 the heavy brakes of the train. 
 
 Presently the conductor, resplendent in gold braid and 
 buttons, emerged from the telegraph office motioning to 
 the brakeman to pull the air signal ; and an instant later
 
 338 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the engineer, giving the required hissing, ear splitting air 
 test, and obeying the two sharp, "Go ahead," blasts of the 
 air whistle, pulled the throttle ; and the heavy train steamed 
 slowly thru the long yards, and was soon running with 
 a fine burst of speed toward Monmouth and the distant 
 West. 
 
 The porter pressed the electric button of drawing-room 
 "A," and Annette answered the bell. 
 
 "First call for dinner, ma'am," he said politely. She 
 bowed and closed the door. 
 
 "What is it, Annette?" her mistress inquired languidly. 
 
 "First call for zee dinner, madame," she replied. 
 
 "You may arrange my hair then, pretty one," re 
 marked Mollie; and while Annette made the necessary 
 preparations and took down the heavy shining mass of 
 raven black locks of her mistress, Mollie continued her 
 gaze out of the window, her mind filled with many 
 thoughts of her home-coming. 
 
 As Mrs. Dodge entered the diner she recognized the 
 junior United States Senator from Colorado, who was 
 seated by himself at one of the center tables intently pe 
 rusing a mass of newspaper clippings, which probably 
 represented an instalment of interesting matter sent him 
 by the editor-in-chief of the great Rocky Mountain daily 
 of which the senator was the sole owner. 
 
 Mrs. Dodge, delightfully expectant, instantly stepped 
 forward to his table. 
 
 "May I?" she asked archly, placing her hand upon 
 the chair opposite the senator as he suddenly looked up. 
 
 "Why why, Mrs. Dodge!" he said, rising and cor 
 dially extending his hand, "I am delighted to see you. 
 This is a pleasure I did not expect when I left Wash 
 ington." 
 
 As she smilingly seated herself the senator quickly 
 gathered up the mass of papers he had been reading, and 
 thrust them in hopeless confusion into his coat pocket 
 much to her amusement, but quite to his great satisfac 
 tion, for his kindly face beamed the heartiest compan 
 ionship imaginable. 
 
 He had evidently just finished the first course of the
 
 339 
 
 dinner, and he gallantly postponed the second until Mrs. 
 Dodge began hers. For some time they discussed affairs 
 of mutual interest, and then she sounded him quite point 
 edly on Colorado Steel. 
 
 " Theodore is putting up a great fight," he said in re 
 ply. "But this man Grabbe is certainly a terror.' He 
 beat out the Belmont interests in that L. & N. affair, 
 and it took Morgan himself to straighten out the muddle. 
 Grabbe must have cleaned up at least two million in that 
 raid, and in this affair, the rogue is following much the 
 same tactics, altho he found Theodore by no means 
 asleep. You see it was this way quite a number of our 
 people, attracted by the high prices offered on the New 
 York Exchange, let their holdings of Colorado Steel go, or 
 we could easily have shut Grabbe out ; but unfortunately, 
 we never dreamed of a deal of this kind, and and I 
 must acknowledge, Mrs. Dodge, that I was one of the 
 suckers who sold. I had a hundred shares of the stock 
 at the time, which I bought years ago at twenty-seven, and 
 I parted with it for eighty-six. And that's just the trouble 
 that's the way we all got caught. For Grabbe's tactics 
 are, to make heavy bids for the stock he wants, in order 
 to get it out on the market; and then, when he has 
 enough to control the property, to hammer it down and 
 scare the balance of the stockholders into selling at any 
 price. And here I am, a close friend of your husband's 
 eager to do him a good turn; and behold the specta 
 cle a poor fool caught in the net of his worst enemy. 
 Oh ! I've already confessed to him, but dear boy that he is, 
 he only smiled and said, "better luck next time, Tom." 
 
 As they finished the meal the sun was sinking behind 
 the vine-covered bluffs of Iowa, far across the shining 
 ripples of the Mississippi; and excusing herself from the 
 very agreeable company of the senator, Mrs. Dodge re 
 turned to her drawing-room. 
 
 The farm lads were turning the cows into the rich 
 meadows after the evening's milking as the train entered 
 the river bottoms, and lazily the cattle thrust their pink 
 noses into the sweet tender grasses as tho fairly satiated 
 with the dewy heaviness of the pasture.
 
 340 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 The broad, silent bosom of the Father of Waters, swelled 
 by the June floods from the distant lakes of Minnesota 
 and Wisconsin, glittered brightly in the beams of the 
 setting sun. Its shores were lined with masses of dense, green 
 foliage, and the majestic stream itself was dotted with 
 many low islands of waving willows. Far up the river 
 a steamboat could be seen breasting the swift current, the 
 black smoke was rolling heavily from its red funnels, 
 and a huge wave of foam heaved in the wake of the great 
 churning stern-wheel 
 
 The rush of the train frightened a flock of water-fowl, 
 and as they rose with shrill cries, the water fell from their 
 dripping wings sparkling like jewels in the last rays 
 of the sun. A bevy of quail also rose from the railroad 
 right-of-way, flying with quick whirring wings into a 
 nearby wheat field. Then as the sun finally sank behind 
 the Iowa hills in a great burst of golden glory, the long 
 dreamy shadows of evening crept over the landscape, and 
 thru the half opened car windows came the rich damp 
 scent of the river meadows. Presently the heavy train 
 rolled over the long bridge out of Illinois into Iowa ; and 
 soon the "click-click" staccato of the Pullman wheels and 
 the quick, successive flit of dozens of red and green 
 lights, announced the maze of switches in the yards of 
 Burlington. 
 
 Mrs. Dodge and Annette looked long and dreamily into 
 the heavy dusk which fell over the beautiful Iowa land 
 scape as the train left Burlington and sped west 
 ward over the rolling prairies. In the far southwest, the 
 first sultriness of summer was displayed in brilliant sheets 
 of yellowish-green lightning, playing from behind the 
 gentle wooded hills that stretched southward toward the 
 distant Missouri line. Hundreds of frogs were croaking 
 their evening songs from their green mottled throats as 
 the train skirted the shores of a great slough, which fra 
 grant with the odor of mint, was the home of countless half 
 budded water-lilies floating gently upon the rippling 
 waters, and above which numerous mouse-eyed bats darted 
 and flitted in the deepening shadows. 
 
 Soon the darkness settled heavily and innumerable
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 341 
 
 fireflies flitted beside the track, beaming their tiny in- 
 candescents among the cornfields and in the patches of 
 dark woods thru which the train plunged with a muffled 
 rush, filling the car with the resonant murmurings of 
 the startled wind-whispering trees. 
 
 The next morning when Mrs. Dodge lifted the window 
 shade by the side of her berth and looked out, the train 
 had left Iowa and was pulling slowly across a long bridge 
 built high above the tawny flood of the Missouri. 
 
 Will the ugly Missouri ever be tamed or softened in the 
 flight of the centuries? 
 
 Ugh! The bitter wind which blows down it in the 
 winter time at Sioux City, Omaha, and Plattsmouth, 
 would shame the coldest Klondike breeze. One may go 
 the full swing of the States from Passamaquoddy Bay to 
 Point Loma, and never find a spot as raw, wild, and in 
 hospitable, as this turbulent flow of the untamed Mis 
 souri between the green hills of Iowa and the verdured 
 slopes of Nebraska. It is today, the same demoniacal, 
 barbarous, man-defying monster, as when the intrepid 
 Father Marquette first viewed its yellow flood pouring 
 into the clear waters of the Mississippi, with that fierce 
 roar and sullen bellowing which the Indians believed 
 came from a demon hidden beneath its tawny waves. 
 
 The Missouri. 
 
 The Big Muddy. 
 
 The ugly duckling of all American waterways. 
 
 At Lincoln, where No. 1 stopped to change engines, 
 Mrs. Dodge and Annette left the car for a few moments, 
 to walk up and down the station platform in the fresh 
 morning air. 
 
 The railroad employees were working like beavers. 
 "Tap-tap," "clank-clank," rang the steel hammers of the 
 car inspectors upon the wheels. A cracked wheel or tire 
 might derail No. 1, and cause the loss of lives and perhaps 
 thousands of dollars to the Burlington. The wheels must 
 ring true or the car would be side tracked. Men came 
 running with ladders and reels of hose to fill the ex 
 hausted water tanks with fresh water. Others brought
 
 342 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 buckets of ice and dumped them into the coolers of the 
 drinking water tanks. 
 
 At the dining-car, a red cheeked boy from the coun 
 try was delivering cans of fresh milk and cream to the 
 negro cooks; and a portly butcher had just brought a 
 fresh juicy quarter of beef, several loins, a basket of fowls, 
 and other tempting meats to replenish the great diner's 
 larder. The black smoke was rolling heavily from the 
 car's diminutive funnels, and the colored waiters were 
 rushing to and fro preparing the tables for breakfast, their 
 white teeth gleaming in their ebony faces as they laughed 
 and joked. The appetizing smell of breakfast was wafted 
 deliciously thru the diner's kitchen windows, and Mrs. 
 Dodge whiffed it hungrily, the short walk in the fresh 
 air had given her an appetite. 
 
 The relieving engine backed down to the train and 
 bumped it stoutly once or twice until the huge couplers 
 linked properly. Then a fat engineer in blue overalls 
 swung down from the cab, and darted the long slender 
 stem of a shining oil-can into the oil-cups and along 
 the bearings of his steaming leviathan. Then after a 
 brief exchange of road talk and comparison of watches 
 with the engineer, the conductor gave the signal, the wo 
 men boarded the Pullman; and No. 1 was soon rushing 
 westward, screaming its hoarse warning to the country 
 crossings and plowing thru the tiny Nebraska villages 
 like a fiend from the Inferno. 
 
 A few miles to the west of Lincoln is the small village 
 of Cornhill. A group of Nebraska farmers and villagers 
 were gathered on the platform of the weather-beaten 
 station house to see No. 1 go by, and also to get the morn 
 ing papers from Lincoln which she invariably brought. 
 Presently they saw a black speck moving towards them 
 from out the dewy East, moving swiftly over twin lines 
 of flashing steel which shone brilliantly in the bright morn 
 ing sunshine. Soon it took the shape of a gigantic black 
 serpent which leaped over the dew-dripping Nebraska 
 prairie spitting forth clouds of smoke and steam, together 
 with showers of fiery red sparks. Then the rails in front 
 of the station house began to croon and hum the song
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 343 
 
 of the oncoming train, until it gradually swelled into a 
 soul-harrowing diapason of crashing resounding steel. 
 Then sounded the ponderous "clank-clank," of the mon 
 ster drivers of Burlington engine, No. 1737, as they beat 
 terrifyingly upon the vibrating but safely enduring rails. 
 
 This fiery steel bull was reeling off sixty-five miles an 
 hour easy. 
 
 The mail-pouch hung in its frame at the far end of the 
 station platform ready to be clutched in the wild em 
 brace of the mail-car's steel arms, which would leap out 
 from the crashing flame spouting cloud of dust, to sud 
 denly snatch it with the tenacity of a bulldog and the 
 trueness of a watch. 
 
 "Toot-toot," sounded the sharp whistle. 
 
 " Wow wow ," shrieked the wind, as it was pierced 
 by the flaming monster. 
 
 " Rip ROAR ," came the flying train. 
 
 The spectators pressed their hats tightly upon their 
 heads, and crouched close to the side of the station house. 
 
 "Clap bang," went the mail-pouch against the side 
 of the car. " 
 
 " Crash chuck," fell the village pouch hurtling across 
 the station platform. 
 
 " Clickity clickity click," sounded the wheels of the 
 rear Pullman over the west switches, and No. 1 had passed 
 far down the track with eery scream and roar, swallowed 
 up in a cloud of brown Nebraska dust. The main event 
 of the day in 'Cornhill had transpired, and the sturdy 
 sons of Nebraska took the mail-pouch to the grocery store 
 postoffice, to get their papers and read the latest news 
 and editorials of that great son of the west, William Jen 
 nings Bryan. 
 
 All day No. 1 sped across Nebraska. The broad valley 
 of the Platte was one vast field of waving wheat and oats, 
 that stirred and tossed in the fresh June breeze like the 
 billows of a green and yellow ocean. 
 
 At McCook, Mrs. Dodge set her watch one hour behind, 
 to conform to mountain time. It was a thousand miles 
 east to Pittsburgh, and a thousand miles west to Ogden, 
 as the crow flies.
 
 344 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 In the late afternoon, and in spite of her enjoyable 
 luncheon and chat with the senator, she became quite 
 restless. 
 
 Why didn't the train move faster? Could she have 
 seen the speed recorder in the engine cab she would 
 scarcely have believed that they were bowling steadily 
 along at full fifty miles an hour. But such was the 
 smoothness of the heavily ballasted track, that a goblet 
 filled with water standing upon the table in her apart 
 ment, scarcely vibrated with the gentle motion of the 
 train. 
 
 No! It was hardly the fault of the Burlington that 
 Mrs. Dodge showed signs of nameless restlessness. 
 
 It was something else. That magic something. That 
 deathless aria, which Verdi has so immortalized in "II 
 Trovatore." The Mountains. "Home to our moun 
 tains." Ah ! "Home to our mountains." 
 
 fehe was watching for the mountains. 
 
 The great ROCKY MOUNTAINS. 
 
 For hours she had been eagerly scanning the western 
 horizon. She was getting so wild to see them that she almost 
 believed they would suddenly leap out and clasp her 
 in their arms, and early in the afternoon she had Annette 
 ask the porter, where they would get their first view of 
 the Rockies. 
 
 "Fo't Mawgan, ma'am," he replied, his black face 
 lighting up with a broad smile as he answered the oft 
 repeated question of the returning Coloradoan. 
 
 As they approached Fort Morgan, the train entered the 
 beautiful valley of the South Platte. Here Mrs. Dodge ob 
 served the highest corn of the entire trip. The shimmer 
 ing green stalks lifted themselves up bravely, two feet 
 or more above the rich sandy loam. In several of the 
 fields the gates of the irrigating ditches were open, and the 
 clear mountain waters, plunging foamingly from the 
 brimming sluices, spread slowly over the brown, fertile 
 land. 
 
 Broad fields of dark green alfalfa stretched out to 
 ward the river, its royal purple blossoms gloriously height 
 ening the color of the landscape, and yielding fragrant
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 345 
 
 sweets to innumerable hosts of bees that darted from 
 blossom to blossom gathering the rich store for the hive. 
 Scores and scores of their neat white hives were visible 
 about the farmhouses as the train sped by. 
 
 As No. 1 rolled on up the verdant valley of the Platte, 
 Mrs. Dodge looked again and again for a sight of the 
 Peak. 
 
 Would it ever appear? 
 
 It was just a bit timid that day, the heat waves of the 
 hot June sun had cast a slight haze over the horizon 
 and it was not visible. 
 
 "But surely it will not hide its head much longer," 
 she thought. 
 
 Ah! No! She fairly strained her eyes to catch what 
 she thought was a dim shadowy outline. 
 
 She looked again as the train sped around a sharp 
 curve, giving her a full view of the southwest. 
 
 Yes! It actually was dear old Pike's. 
 
 That vast pile in the far southwest, which resembles 
 nothing so much as a blue cloud floating lazily upon the 
 low sky. , 
 
 This was the famous peak which Zebulon Pike had de 
 clared in 1806, that no man could ever ascend. 
 
 But happily, oh much mistaken prophet, not only are 
 there wagon roads and footpaths to its summit, but also 
 the best paying railroad in Colorado finds its way to the 
 top, operating trains from May to October. 
 
 Mollie's face fairly beamed as she hugged Annette af 
 fectionately and pointed out the dim outlines of the 
 great peak. 
 
 It two hours they w r ould be in Denver. 
 
 Since leaving Fort Morgan, they had been traveling 
 for nearly an hour thru the Great Plains country which 
 lies immediately to the east of Denver. At this season 
 of the year it is one great billowy fragrant mass of pas 
 ture, the rains having been especially abundant this year. 
 Big steers stood almost belly deep in grass among the deep 
 gullies and arroyos, gazing stolidly upon the swift flying 
 train. 
 
 Numerous patches of wild roses grew on the railroad
 
 346 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 right-of-way, tossing their fragrant blossoms in the pass 
 ing draught of the train; while large beds of cacti grew 
 upon the sandy hillsides, blooming gorgeously in bright 
 clusters of brilliant scarlet and yellow flowers. Darting 
 among them were hundreds of saucy scampering prairie- 
 dogs, which sat up occasionally upon their fat haunches, 
 and in one instance were peering suspiciously upward at a 
 large hawk slowly soaring far above them in the blue 
 sky. 
 
 About this time Annette began to pack the traveling 
 bags and make ready to leave the train, altho she had cer 
 tain suspicions that madame was altogether too much in a 
 hurry, it being difficult for the traveler who visits Den 
 ver for the first time on most of the northern routes, to 
 realize that a large city can follow so closely upon the 
 heels of such absolute solitude and desolation as bor 
 ders the route the last ten miles into the city. 
 
 Gradually as the train ascended the last long grade 
 which the Burlington makes before it finally plunges 
 downward into the suburbs of Denver, the great Front, 
 Park, and Rampart ranges of the Rockies are visible; 
 and at the top of this grade, the entire sublime sky-line 
 of the Great Hills leaps into view; from the low sharp 
 pointed foothills near Boulder and the superbly curved 
 Medicine Bow range stretching mistily far away north 
 ward into Wyoming, to the vast bulk of the whole Con 
 tinental Divide, beginning with Long's majestic peak 
 forty-five miles to the northwest, and terminating glor 
 iously eighty miles to the far southwest in the serene 
 soaring summit of Pike's. These two noble peaks, almost 
 twin brothers as to form and height, being separated 
 by a full hundred and twenty miles of white crested 
 snow ranges and green clad foothills. 
 
 In the center of this magnificent sky-line is Mt. Evans, 
 upon which at this time of the year, lies a great field of 
 ice glittering in the sun like a gigantic mirror. To the 
 north of this noble peak is the elongated, chisel-edged 
 crest of the Arapahoes, which towering twin summits 
 smoke and play for three-quarters of the year in snow 
 storms and howling blizzards.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 347 
 
 Directly to the west, at the base of the first line of 
 foothills, is the low, mesa-shaped Table Mountain, which, 
 cloven directly thru the center by the gorge of Clear 
 Creek, marks the site of Golden, the first capital of Col 
 orado, more readily identified by a column of white smoke 
 issuing from the stack of its one remaining smelter. 
 
 In the near northwest are the Highlands of North 
 Denver, and beyond, the Heights of Berkley appear, a 
 long, sharp ridge overlooking the fertile orchard-check 
 ered valley of Clear Creek. 
 
 In the sweep of the far southwest is the jagged sil 
 houette of the Devil's Head, and slightly to the north of it 
 is the round knob-like tip of the north portal of Platte 
 Canon, from Tvhose cool, mossy depths flows the crystal 
 flood of the Platte, which is piped into* Denver to clothe 
 her hillsides and lawns with charming verdure and fill her 
 fountains with purest aqua. 
 
 In the nearer southwest, just above the green tops of 
 the tall cottonwoods which fringe the banks of the Platte, 
 rise the Heights of Loretto, named after a community of 
 nuns who have built a handsome seminary upon the brow 
 of the ridge. And just beyond, at the foot of the ridge, 
 clustered together upon a wide stretch of tableland which 
 commands a full view of Bear and Clear Creek valleys, is 
 a group of buildings known as Fort Logan, a United 
 States military post, placed there many years ago, from 
 which the government could keep a close watch on the 
 Indians. 
 
 Directly to the south is the flat pine-fringed crest of 
 the Arkansas Divide, a range of handsome, picturesque 
 hills which separate the waters of the Arkansas from those 
 of the Platte. 
 
 But the mountains and the heights are not all, for 
 spreading over the gentle hills of the Cherry and the 
 Platte is Denver, the Queen City of the Mountains and 
 the Plains. 
 
 From the summit of the last high-grade of the Burling 
 ton, the city of Denver spreads out at one's feet as glo 
 riously as the vision of ancient Jersualem once beat in 
 upon the soul of the weary pilgrim.
 
 348 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 DENVER ! Fair, wondrously fair. Filled with Prom 
 ise, pregnant with Power. With the great misty moun 
 tains towering high above, piercing the turquoise sky of 
 Colorado with their peaks of eternal snow, and spreading 
 their white wings protectingly over her green and billowy 
 plains. 
 
 Mollie's heart beat with all the ingenuousness of a young 
 girl's as she gazed once more upon the glorious prospect, 
 while Annette was beginning to think that her mistress' 
 glowing accounts of the Colorado land were not so ex 
 aggerated after all. 
 
 As the long train pulled slowly into the station and 
 the monotonous "click-click" of the Pullman wheels 
 ceased as they pa'ssed the last switch, the porter entered 
 the drawing-room and picked up their traveling bags. The 
 senator joining the party, they all hastened down the 
 corridor of the car to the steps, where Mollie was sud 
 denly greeted by a familar voice, and Theodore's face 
 shone smilingly up at her in the last sunlight of the day. 
 Bidding adieu to the senator, they passed thru the bust 
 ling throng and outside to the street curb, where John, the 
 coachman, was sitting upon the box of the glass-windowed 
 vehicle restraining the nervously-pawing animals. 
 
 As he saw them burst thru the crowd he straightened 
 himself instinctively, his eyes beaming expectantly. He 
 was a strict Roman Catholic like his mistress, and he knew 
 the good father of St. Andrews would be very happy when 
 he saw once more the little lady from the Hill. 
 
 As they drove home, Mollie scrutinized her husband's 
 face closely. It was unmistakably thin, troubled, and 
 careworn. It made her feel very unhappy, but she was 
 comforted in the thought that she was home again to 
 console and assist him, and she nestled up to him in the 
 seat and roguishly patted his thin cheeks with her daint 
 ily-gloved hands. 
 
 The next morning after her arrival, she inspected the 
 premises thoroly, and as she entered the large drawing- 
 room, which had immense windows on the south and west 
 overlooking the valley of the Platte and the mountains,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 349 
 
 she found to her great surprise and disappointment that 
 the former splendid and unbroken view to the west was 
 now partially intercepted by a structure of graceful Span 
 ish architecture which had been erected during her ab 
 sence. 
 
 'Who who lives there?" she asked indignantly of 
 Henriette, the housekeeper. 
 
 " The Browns," replied the servant, "a tall man, a 
 little woman, an old man, and a little boy," she further 
 explained, as her mistress looked at her questioningly. 
 
 Mollie shrugged her shoulders and said with a deeply- 
 injured air, "Well, whoever they are, they have ruined 
 our view of the mountains. I I nevor dreamed that a 
 house built there would affect our view so much. If I 
 had, I'd have had Theo buy the lots." 
 
 That evening at dinner she asked Theodore about their 
 new neighbors, the Browns. In answer, he replied : 
 
 "Why, yes, sweetheart, I never thought to write you. 
 Brown came here from your old home, Plume. He struck it 
 rich in a mine up there, and has come to Denver to live. 
 Queerest fellow you ever saw. The most stubborn cuss 
 in Colorado. Had a big fight with him in the legislature, 
 and he beat us at last. He is a large stockholder in Col 
 orado Steel. And confound it, I'm afraid he's against 
 me in this fight, too." 
 
 Mollie's eyes opened wide at her husband's remarks. 
 Then she asked timidly, "What what's his first name, 
 Theo?" 
 
 He looked at her questioningly for a moment, and re 
 plied: 
 
 " Standish Standish Brown." 
 
 " Standish Brown !" she echoed incredulously. 
 
 "Yes, Brown Standish Brown," he repeated. "Ever 
 know him?" 
 
 " Why wh , yes, Theo, ho is an old friend of mine." 
 she answered, flushing slightly under his close scrutiny, to 
 which she added musingly, '"Whoever thought of that 
 great awkward Standish Brown living here in Denver, 
 right on Capitol Hill."
 
 350 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 They did not discuss the Browns further, but they both 
 thought of them; the husband, of Brown's probable atti 
 tude in the coming election of Colorado Steel ; the wife, of 
 her old lover.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 The summer had flown, the rare Colorado autumn had 
 passed away with its weeks of glorious sunshine and 
 balmy evenings, and the time was fast approaching when 
 the immediate issue in Colorado Steel would be settled. 
 The court had decreed that the stockholders must hold an 
 election in December, and it had also appointed a master- 
 in-chancery to supervise the affair. 
 
 It was midnight in the Dodge mansion. Theodore was 
 alone in the library. Upon the table in front of him 
 were the latest reports of his secretary upon the voting 
 strength of the Dodge forces in the coming election. 
 
 After his wife had said good night, he listened for a 
 moment, and as he heard her step lightly down the hall 
 and close the door of her apartment, he spread out the 
 papers from which to read his fate in Colorado Steel. For 
 a long time he inspected and perused the documents, then 
 he rose and passed into the vestibule, and, opening the 
 coat closet, he took something from his overcoat pocket. 
 As he returned to the library the object shone in the light 
 of the lamp. It was a revolver. 
 
 He laid it down upon a pile of papers near the edge of 
 the massive oak table. Strange, there were two paper 
 weights in sight. 
 
 Lighting a cigar and nervously tossing the match into 
 the grate, he walked back and forth for a few moments 
 puffing the weed fiercely. Soon he seated himself in a 
 chair, and, leaning back, rested his feet upon the top of 
 the table, and then with a deep sigh he turned his weary 
 vision upon the Sublime Stage. 
 
 When the curtain rose, a single object was visible. A 
 fearful creature. One of the greatest monsters of the soul- 
 world. 
 
 It was STEEL. 
 
 The scenes shifted rapidly. A hundred battlefields 
 
 351
 
 352 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 were shown. From classic Marathon to desperate Gettys 
 burg. In all of them the hideous Steel monster filled the 
 stage with forests of naked, leaping swords, bristling bay 
 onets, fire-spitting rifles, flaming cannon, together with 
 all the other types of metal weapons that man has ever 
 known. 
 
 Next, the monster was binding states and continents 
 with countless miles of shining rails, and starting over 
 them thousands of steaming locomotives and trains. It 
 dotted the vast expanse of the oceans with iron ribbed 
 and plated leviathans; and spanned great rivers and 
 chasms with mighty structures of rivets and Bessemer 
 beams. 
 
 Amid the horrid clash of war and the more peaceful 
 conquest of the world by the mighty power of Steel, heroic 
 beings of tender flesh and blood were lifted high in view ; 
 their snow-white brows shining undaunted in the grim 
 front of War, and their serious genius-inspired souls gear 
 ing up the globe with magnificent feats of engineering. 
 
 In this titanic world-drama, Miltiades and his heroic 
 Greeks gave the death-bite to the haughty Persian. Here 
 Spartacus sank his bloody blade into the bowels of his an 
 tagonist. Here the dauntless Dewey vomited forth his 
 death-fires into the flaming vessels of the unhappy Span 
 iard. 
 
 From the shores of Illinois and Missouri the brave Eads 
 swung his magnificent structure across the broad waters 
 of the Mississippi; and the persistent Field spanned the 
 vast caverns of the Atlantic with his massive coil of dis 
 tance-annihilating cable. And on and on sweeps the ever- 
 changing drama of Steel; on, perhaps, to the end of the 
 world. 
 
 But in all its cyclopean theatricals Steel knows but two 
 masters. But two beings, at the command of whom the 
 monster arouses itself to action or sleeps in repose. 
 
 These masters are, Genius and Gold. 
 
 Sometimes Genius commands and directs the action of 
 the Steel monster, but more often it is Gold. And in this 
 stupendous drama of Steel, the Sublime Stage often re 
 sounds with the fiercr war note and deadly combat of
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 353 
 
 Genius and Gold themselves. Whichever is master for 
 the moment directs the Steel monster to its particular 
 purpose. 
 
 Genius is the spiritual force, Gold the material. And 
 implacable has waged the conflict between these two world 
 forces from the most remote chronicles of man. 
 
 Theodore Dodge possessed Genius. It was the one keen, 
 sharp sword, with which all his life he had successfully 
 crossed the bludgeon of Gold. But he had now wholly 
 exhausted his powers. He was at bay. His bright sword 
 was to be beaten down at last by the massive weapon of 
 brute sordid Gold. 
 
 For months he had staved off the New York crowd thru 
 the protection of the courts, but that last resource was 
 now fading, and with the election but two days away, 
 John Wreckor Grabbe was easily the master. And such 
 was the magic Nemesic skein which Fate had wound from 
 the distaff of Destiny, that Theodore Dodge was obliged 
 to confess to himself that the only power that could pos 
 sibly prevent Grabbe's control of the election, was Stand- 
 ish Brown. 
 
 But alas! The aid of that power was justly denied 
 him, and he trembled and shivered as he thought of how 
 deliberately and cruelly he had inflicted his machinations 
 upon the innocent and heroic miner from Plume. 
 
 It was this guilty knowledge that was destroying the 
 mental equilibrium of Theodore Dodge. For, as he re 
 flected upon the enormity of his continuous and cold 
 blooded attacks upon Standish Brown, he was astonished 
 and sickened at his own baseness. So intently had he 
 followed the dictates of business that he had actually 
 strode over the prostrate forms of his victims without a 
 thought of his crimes. But now as he faced his own defeat, 
 their forms arose grimly to his view upon the Sublime 
 Stage, as did the ghosts of the unhappy victims of Glos- 
 ter, who disported themselves before him upon the fatal 
 field of Bosworth. 
 
 For the first time in the soul of Theodore Dodge, FAIL 
 URE appeared upon the boards and played its part. He 
 had never known Failure before; for his entire life up
 
 354 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 to this fatal battle of Steel had been one long unbroken 
 success. 
 
 Failure is the greatest test of a rich man, Success the 
 greatest test of a poor man. 
 
 Men are never fully developed until they can accept 
 defeat with calmness and fortitude, and meet success 
 without being corrupted. 
 
 Napoleon was gold in his successes; in his failures he 
 was rust. 
 
 Sturdy old Blucher, whom the great war lord of France 
 threshed over nearly the whole face of Europe, endured 
 a vast and humiliating failure. But when he stepped 
 forth at last in the pale gleam of the young moon on 
 that fateful field of Waterloo, desperate and indomitable 
 from his long years of failure, his very presence seemed 
 to crush the Napoleonic monster. 
 
 Napoleon was a demi-god in success, in failure he was 
 a cur. 
 
 Blucher was a brave man in failure, in success he was 
 a hero. 
 
 True men may appear glorious in victory, but in defeat 
 they are sublime. 
 
 Wellington was the sword-hero of Waterloo, but Blu 
 cher summoned up the awful presence of an almighty, 
 vindicating justice which inspired his veteran legions to 
 renew the exhausted battle-fires of the heroic English, to 
 sweep forever a horrid tyrant from that unhappy land in 
 which he had made his lair. 
 
 In the roll of mere years, victory-flushed Caesar is Suc 
 cess pale, bleeding Christ is Failure ; but in the glorious 
 march of AGES, imperial Caesar becomes a mere stepping 
 stone of history, Jesus Christ becomes the LIGHT OF 
 THE WORLD. 
 
 Julius Caesar was a blood-stained tyrant, dragging his 
 unhappy victims behind him bound in chains to the plat 
 form of his golden chariot. 
 
 Jesus of Nazareth was a sublime emancipator, walking 
 illumed among the joyful anthem singers and peaceful 
 palm bearers of the gloriously free. 
 
 Julius Caesar was a screaming meteor that flashes across
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 355 
 
 the skies of history and startles a generation, to fall heavy 
 with crime into an eternal night. Jesus Christ is a glo 
 rious sun, beaming celestial thruout an everlasting and all 
 joyous day. 
 
 A man's strength, therefore, must be of a universal 
 character to endure. He must know defeat. Must feel 
 the sting of anguish. Must weep in silence in the depths 
 of failure, and, phoenix-like, if his cause be just, a perma 
 nent and substantial success will spring from the ashes of 
 his despair. 
 
 Theodore Dodge was meeting just such a test. "Would 
 he endure? Could he, in the bluff Western phrase. " Stand 
 the gaff?" 
 
 The scenes shifted. The play rolled on. 
 
 A fascinating figure appeared. One of the lawless com 
 panions of Failure. One of the deadliest sirens of the 
 soul-world. A seductive Loreli. A Rhine maiden with 
 storm-tossed hair sitting upon the brink of Destruction. 
 
 It was SUICIDE. That insidious, yet fascinating siren, 
 which sooner or later appears in the soul of nearly every 
 individual. 
 
 Suicide, the slayer of gentle Brutus. The fair wooer of 
 the voluptuous Cleopatra. The cruel mistress of the mor 
 bid "Werther. The seductive charmer of the resisting 
 Goethe. 
 
 In the dark and scarlet company of Cowardice, Failure 
 and Despair, the individual is often tempted to embrace 
 the enticing figure of Suicide, and once succumbing to 
 her charms, he wakes up in the cold clutch of hideous 
 death. The individual upon his couch clasps a warm, 
 seductive form, palpitating with fierce passion, but wakes 
 upon the instant to find himself in the cold and pitiless 
 embrace of a horrid, grinning skeleton. 
 
 Thus it was that Suicide smiled and beckoned to the 
 despairing Theodore, and he followed. He picked up the 
 revolver and pressed it to his temple. 
 
 The muzzle was cold and he hesitated. 
 
 Noting his hesitation, Suicide came up and put her soft 
 arms about him.
 
 356 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 " Come, darling, let's end it all. Say farewell to this 
 cruel world, and sink with me, here in these loving 
 arms into the mist land of dreams. Death, cruel, inevita 
 ble death, will come to you sooner or later. Why not, then, 
 drift away with me, softly into the dreamland of peace? 
 Ah ! you know how sweet, love ; rest gentle rest," and suc 
 cumbing to the siren's seductive song, he smiled and 
 pressed the trigger, but as he did so a scream rang thru 
 the house, and the weapon was dashed from his hands. 
 
 It was Mollie. 
 
 She had gone to bed quite nervous and apprehensive 
 that all was not well with her husband. He had made no 
 complaint. But the heaviness of his soul and heart was 
 deeply felt by the keenly intuitive wife. She had longed 
 to have him unbosom himself to her, but with that char 
 acteristic silence so often noted in business men, he had 
 tightly locked up the agony of his soul and would not 
 confide. 
 
 She awoke soon after she went to sleep, and instinctively 
 reaching out her hand to where her husband should have 
 lain, she found he was not there. Arising hastily, fairly 
 trembling with apprehension, she stepped into the hall, 
 and, reaching the head of the stairs, she crept softly down 
 them in her bare feet, peeping over the railing just in 
 time to see him raise the revolver the second time. 
 
 As soon as the weapon fell, Mollie picked it up and 
 flung it thru the nearest window. The glass flew in sliv 
 ers, the weapon falling outside on the walk with a loud rat 
 tle. Then the frenzied woman put her satiny arms about 
 her shaking spouse and wept tears of purest joy. 
 
 A moment later the housekeeper rushed in from the 
 servant's quarters. 
 
 " Bring me some brandy, quick, Henriette," said Mollie, 
 noting Theodore's ashy countenance as he drooped in her 
 arms. 
 
 The startled housekeeper soon returned with a decanter 
 and glass, and as they forced the liquor down his throat, 
 he fainted upon the divan. 
 
 "He will be all right presently, Henriette. If the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 357 
 
 watchman comes, please tell him it is nothing. That's a 
 good girl, please leave us now. If I want anything I will 
 ring for you." 
 
 The bewildered housekeeper left the room obediently, 
 but not to rest. She went outside for a few moments to 
 regain her composure in the fresh air. As she passed the 
 library window she noticed the broken pane for the first 
 time, and from the dim light shining thru the aperture, 
 she saw the revolver lying upon the walk. Then she un 
 derstood. Picking it up timidly, she entered the house, 
 but not to sleep much that night from ruminating over 
 the affairs of the Dodges. 
 
 Tho Theodore and Mollie had known the sweetness of 
 love and companionship before, they never knew its 
 downright divinity until this affair. During those terri 
 ble moments, loyalty, sacrifice, and the pure sanctity of 
 souls in the near presence of death, touched many beauti 
 ful, unsounded strings of their hearts. The trembling 
 wife kissed the pale lips again and again, pressing her 
 hot-flushed cheek against the cold brow to warm it to 
 life, and all the time shedding tears of joy as she held him 
 tightly in tender thankfulness. 
 
 Finally, he opened his eyes, and, looking up into her 
 beautiful, tear-stained face, he realized it all. She had 
 saved him, and opening his arms he folded her silently 
 to his tortured breast. She lay thus for a long time. 
 Then the tears began to trickle down his pale cheeks ; and 
 their hearts, beating in perfect unison; his confessing, 
 hers accepting, the heaviness of his soul rolled away, and 
 his thoughts lightened to peace and joy. 
 
 How little did defeat matter now. In the joy of pos 
 sessing such a wife, he could meet the world even with his 
 bare hands, to live in the warmth of her pure, unselfish 
 love. How happy he was. Stern business could go where 
 it would now, for Love, the fairest virgin of man's won 
 drous soul, crept into the firelight and claimed its own. 
 
 Then in the wee hours of the morning, as she lay in 
 his arms, he freely confessed to her his desperate situation 
 in Colorado Steel. How companionable, how sympathetic,
 
 358 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 how tender she was. Why had he not confided in her be 
 fore? 
 
 Alas I Poor misguided man. 
 
 Business! That damnable, cursed, man-created tyr 
 anny, which sucks the warm, buoyant life of souls and 
 replaces it with a deadly burden of cold, lifeless husks, 
 had completely enslaved him. He had succumbed to one 
 of the most dreadful creatures of the soul BUSINESS, 
 the latter day alias of unspeakable Mammon. Business 
 which if we do not regulate with wisdom and care, will 
 transform this community of free and enlightened com 
 monwealths into a syndicate of infernos. 
 
 Mollie listened attentively to her husband's confession, 
 and then she knew that the fate of his business career 
 rested in Standish Brown, the man who had once been 
 her lover. The man whom she had scorned, and who had 
 long since suffered so unjustly thru the mistaken business 
 policies of her husband. 
 
 Concealing as best she could her keen remorse at Stand- 
 ish's wrongs, she wooed her husband back to a renewed 
 interest in life; and after stuffing a pillow in the broken 
 window, they went upstairs to bed. 
 
 Usually, Theodore slept on the outer side of the bed, but 
 the timorous wife made him take the back side this time. 
 She intended to see that he did not leave her side for 
 the balance of the night. 
 
 After tucking him away, she looked at the tiny clock 
 on the dresser. It was 2:30. Warming her feet on the 
 register for a moment, they were almost blue from cold, 
 she turned to the bed and found to her great delight that 
 Theodore was sleeping peacefully.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Mollie rose at daybreak. The excitement of the night 
 had been too much for her, and she had slept but little. 
 
 Stealing softly in her nightrobe to the rear parlor, 
 which was on the same floor as her sleeping apartment, she 
 raised one of the shades and looked out at the gorgeous 
 East. Entranced with the view, she raised the window, 
 the cool, refreshing breeze of the morning flowing in and 
 blowing the loose strands of her beautiful hair. 
 
 The sky was vividly crimson. The cocks were crowing 
 in the distance, from where the homes of the poor were 
 huddled together in the sandy bottoms of the Cherry. The 
 beautiful morning star, glittering like a gigantic emerald, 
 flashed its beams from a ribbon of pale blue sky just above 
 the roseate torches of the dawn. 
 
 Mollie felt that this was a very holy moment. The 
 maidenhood of a day that meant much to her, and, kneel 
 ing down, she prayed long and fervently. As she rose, she 
 took from her bosom an ivory crucifix which was fastened 
 about her neck with a fine gold chain. To her devout 
 Catholic spirit, the ivory figure was the real flesh and 
 blood of her Saviour. 
 
 Ah! These Catholic women. Faith incarnate. Bow 
 down, cold, frigid Science. Gaunt, thin-visaged Calvin- 
 ists, behold the true Blood of the Lamb. 
 
 After kissing the image reverently, she made her way 
 to the front parlor to get a glimpse of the mountains to 
 the west. The view was so magnificent that she returned 
 to her chamber, and, slipping on a pair of fleece-lined 
 slippers and throwing a shawl over her shoulders, she 
 returned to the parlor piling one of the big rockers full 
 of pillows from off a davenport, and, seating herself, she 
 watched the play of pink-tinted Aurora among the Great 
 Hills. 
 
 359
 
 360 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Denver is just far enough distant from the Rockies to 
 enjoy to the full those superb cloud effects which are con 
 stantly displaying themselves upon the summits of the 
 Snowy Range. And from the streets of the city the forms 
 of the Great Hills are beautifully softened and subdued. 
 That awe-inspiring terribleness of the mountain solitudes 
 themselves, which impresses one so distinctly while ac 
 tually among them, not being^ noticeable from a distance. 
 
 The huge precipices, yawning chasms and dizzy peaks 
 are shorn of their terrorism by the superb enchantment 
 of distance. They seem from the city streets to fairly min 
 gle with the clouds themselves, and to form gay partner 
 ships with the sun, moon and stars. 
 
 When actually among these vast defiles, one is often 
 oppressed by an overpowering sense of the sublime and 
 awful ; more often by the morbid atmosphere of a terrify 
 ing, demoniacal world, whose demon inhabitants weigh 
 one down with a grim terror during the darkness of 
 night ; and in the broad light of day peep mockingly from 
 among the beetling crags and the dark pine-parked 
 canons. 
 
 But from the distance of the city, these same regions 
 appear as a land of pleasurable enchantment. Imagina 
 tion peoples them with fairies, laughing nymphs, and 
 comical gnomes; and perchance, a piping Pan. You 
 long to fly up to those dream-bound regions, wrapped as 
 they are in glorious cloud and sun. To leave the near 
 world, and soar to a dreamland of heavenly vistas, of 
 vague delightful prospects. A golden, mist-clad realm of 
 Prospero, bidding one to dream, to forget the close bind 
 ing clutch of flesh. And, too, it is an enchanted world 
 always near at hand. Even the commonest workman, 
 sweating at his toil in the city streets, can look up at 
 these glorious hills and ease his toil with dreams. 
 
 From the streets, also, the Great Hills display to best 
 advantage that supreme essential of art FORM. 
 
 Like beautiful women, they have form. As do the 
 same entrancing nymphs of flesh, the mountains drape 
 themselves in beautiful robes and modes. At times the 
 clouds and the mists, 'dyed by the sun in all the colors of
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 361 
 
 the spectrum, dress the nude outlines of the mountains in 
 matchless robes. Again, as if to amorously tempt the eye, 
 they lift their bewitching draperies, exposing the soft, 
 tempting sky-line of their snowy, flawless breasts. 
 
 In the dim gray of the morning, the range lies dark and 
 ghostly in the west. But long before the east is fairly 
 flushed, and Day has crept over the Great Plains, the high 
 towering snow peaks glittering rosy and transcendently 
 from the skies, have caught the sun's first rays. 
 
 As the upper peaks of the main range receive the first 
 full beams of the sun, they stand out in bold outline, 
 much as the footlights of a theatre throw in high relief 
 the forms of the players. 
 
 Here a great crevice is lighted up ; there a dark canon 
 is penetrated, the dense mass of conifers being silhouetted 
 against the sky like numberless glumes. 
 
 Then, as these vast upper regions stand forth like 
 awakening giants, the, sun gradually lights up the foot 
 hills; and tier after tier of these dark, swarthy monsters 
 assemble into view, grouped as a herd of baby elephants 
 at the foot of the giant tuskers which tower grandly above 
 them. Finally, as the conqueror of darkness rises full 
 above the rim of the world, and pours his fiery flood 
 upon the sleeping plains, bright Day rushes victoriously 
 forward, and, leaping the range, passes on into the limit 
 less West, leaving in her golden trail the expiring mists of 
 Night. 
 
 Theodore slept late that morning. As he came down to 
 breakfast he heard Mollie singing one of her old Irish 
 love songs. It made him smile rem'iniscently. It was 
 lingering upon his face as he entered the dining-room. 
 How golden it looked to her. 
 
 As they chatted over the coffee and rolls, his wife's good 
 spirits buoyed him up considerably; and, as he rose from 
 the table, he felt that if he could somehow get thru the 
 next few days, there would be something to live for 
 after all.
 
 362 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 "Courage, darling," she whispered, as she kissed him 
 good-bye, " I swear that you shall be victorious." 
 
 He shrugged his shoulders doubtfully as he walked 
 down the steps to the cart, but he waved his hand at her 
 fondly as he drove away. 
 
 "Annette," said Mollie to the maid a few moments 
 later, " You are such a jewel. But oh I You must dress 
 me up fine this morning, for I'm going to visit the father 
 on a very special errand, and not a speck, not a wrinkle, 
 you dear little Frenchy." 
 
 " I am ze one, madame. I gife you ze grand prix. I 
 make you ze one angel to call on ze saint, eh?" 
 
 The toilet ended with the adjustment of a great white 
 veil fastened around the hat. Annette had no comment 
 to offer about the balance of the costume, but at this she 
 really wondered. 
 
 At ten o'clock Mrs. Dodge left the house and was driven 
 in the closed carriage to St. Andrews. As she entered the 
 confessional the father greeted her graciously. He hpd 
 good reason, for of all his flock, she was the pearl; both 
 in her contributions and conduct she was irreproachable. 
 
 "Father, I have need of spiritual power and grace to 
 day. Please remember me in your offerings," she said 
 sweetly. 
 
 The priest looked at her sharply and crossed himself 
 fervently. She kneeled in confession and told him her 
 secret. He smiled gravely as she did so, but nodded his 
 head approvingly. As she finished he blessed her, saying, 
 " Blessings on thee, my daughter, may the Father have 
 you in His holy keeping." 
 
 Altho Mollie left a secret in the sanctuary of the church, 
 yet in the sanctuary of her soul was still another secret 
 which was not related to the good father. 
 
 Re-entering the carriage, she was driven rapidly down 
 town. 
 
 The day was characteristic of a winter day in Denver. 
 At times it seemed as if the wind blew from every point of 
 the compass, raising the dust in clouds; and as Mollie 
 peered thru the carriage windows, she thought that all the 
 tin cans, old newspapers and tumble-weeds of the North
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 363 
 
 Side were being blown across the bottoms to Capitol Hill. 
 The mountains were hidden in a solid bank of angry dark 
 gray clouds, which indicated that a blizzard was raging 
 on the Great Divide. Occasionally the clouds lifted for 
 a moment, and one could see the great bald peaks fairly 
 weltering in the sweep of the howling winds and blinding 
 snow. Old residenters, driven from the streets by the 
 wind and the dust, predicted a fall of snow within twelve 
 hours. 
 
 At Daniels & Fishers, the Marshall Fields of Denver, Mrs. 
 Dodge left the carriage, telling John to blanket the horses, 
 take refuge himself in the store, and await her return. 
 She then entered at Lawrence Street, and slyly made her 
 exit at Sixteenth Street. She was evidently upon an 
 errand which required secrecy even from her faithful 
 coachman. Her great white veil was closely gathered 
 about her features, her gown and cloak being of the deep 
 est black, with her hands gloved in exquisite white. She 
 really wore the veritable black and white draperies of a 
 nun, but they were cut in that fashion which proclaims 
 the drawing-room instead of the cloister. 
 
 During the two or three short hours which she had half 
 slept that night, she had a peculiar dream ; and this mys 
 terious veiling and confessing to the priest were but the 
 preliminaries of a much more serious mission. 
 
 In the dream, John Wreckor Grabbe had appeared to 
 her as a monster who was about to devour Theodore and 
 herself; but just as he had reached them, and she fancied 
 afterward that she must have screamed loudly in her 
 sleep from fright, Standish Brown had appeared, looking 
 just as he used to in that long ago at Plume with his awk 
 ward figure and rough miner's suit; and at the sight of 
 whom the Grabbe monster had instantly disappeared, and 
 Standish stood looking at her with is old familiar smile. 
 
 This was the secret which she had confessed to the 
 priest, but she did not tell him that this same Standish 
 Brown was an old lover of hers, and that was the secret 
 she had reserved in the sanctuary of her soul. 
 
 The priest had readily agreed with her, that as Theo 
 dore had acknowledged that Standish Brown held the
 
 364 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 balance of power in the battle of Colorado Steel, the cor 
 rect interpretation of the dream was, that she should en 
 deavor to win Brown over to her husband's cause and thus 
 defeat the Wall Street crowd. 
 
 It was only a couple of blocks to Standish's office, and 
 as she reached the building and took the elevator, its sud 
 den ascent, coupled with her intensely nervous condition, 
 nearly prostrated her and she almost fainted. A stout 
 old gentleman, noting her condition, steadied her with 
 his arm. 
 
 " Look a here, young man," he said, glaring fiercely at 
 the elevator pilot as if he were to blame for it all, " You'll 
 get discharged for this funny business yet." 
 
 At the same time he gazed at' Mollie intently, vainly 
 seeking to fathom the thick veil. What wouldn't a stout 
 old gentleman do for a perfectly gowned woman with an 
 adorable mystery of a veil and the exquisite scent of rare 
 perfume diffusing itself from her person? 
 
 As Mollie approached the suite of offices on the top 
 floor which bore the name, "Standish Brown, Mining 
 and Investments," her heart almost failed her and she 
 felt most miserable. But she opened the door and entered.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 The Browns were enjoying the luxury of their new 
 home on the Hill, Standish having picked out a beautiful 
 building site; a north and west corner containing three 
 city lots which overlooked the valleys of both the Cherry 
 and the Platte, and which commanded a fine view of the 
 range. 
 
 Upon inquiry he found that the property belonged to 
 David Moore, whose great gloomy brick mansion, built 
 in the middle of the block, was shut in on every side by a 
 brick wall surmounted by a low iron fence. Standish 
 looked up the agent who had the property in charge and 
 negotiated for its purchase. The agent called on the 
 president of the National First and explained the nature 
 of the offer and named the prospective purchaser. With 
 characteristic bluntness David only asked one question. 
 
 "How much of a family has Brown?" 
 
 The agent's face fell. It was the usual question of the 
 particular and independent property owner whose resi 
 dence immediately adjoins the property in question, and 
 with the feeling that the deal was all off and a fat com 
 mission lost, the agent replied: 
 
 " Brown has a wife and one little boy." 
 
 David smiled to himself at the agent's accent on the 
 word "little ;" and to that worthy's great amazement, the 
 financier actually looked pleased. 
 
 " Close it up then, Smith," he said cheerily, "and mail 
 the deed to me when you get it ready for signature ;" and 
 as the agent left the office, he was vainly endeavoring to 
 impress upon his mind another evidence of the extreme 
 freakishness of human nature. As for David Moore, he 
 fairly beamed in the thought of a little family nearby, 
 neighbors he could see from the depths of his great 
 south window. 
 
 After the purchase of the lots, Standish employed an 
 
 365
 
 366 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 architect, and the result was that a modern and commo 
 dious structure of Spanish mission style was built. The 
 ground, which sloped sharply to the west, being gracefully 
 terraced and planted with trees and shrubs. 
 
 One day soon after they had moved in, Standish made 
 inquiries of the postman about his neighbors, and to his 
 great amazement, he found that the large and pretenti 
 ous mansion directly across the street was the city home 
 of Theodore Dodge. 
 
 Since the election of 1900, and the defeat of John 
 Charles Rose, Standish could not help feeling within him 
 self, his increasing consciousness of power. For one by 
 one as he had investigated and informed himself upon 
 the condition and nature of each of his numerous invest 
 ments; and had contemplated and summed up the total 
 of his estate, he was almost overwhelmed with its mag 
 nitude. 
 
 Away back in the '80s, when Colonel Rose first began to 
 handle Peter Brown's finances, he had invested heavily in 
 railroad stocks. For both he and the old miner having 
 great faith in the West, they fully realized, as they ob 
 served the great influx of population from time to time, 
 that in a few years these poor, sand plowing, snow buck 
 ing, poverty stricken railroads, would by sheer force of 
 necessity, become the great and rich highways of a 
 mighty nation. The Colonel had accordingly purchased 
 large blocks of the stock of the Union Pacific, North 
 western, Rock Island, and Burlington, at the ridiculously 
 low figures of the time; and had also invested heavily 
 in Rio Grande, and Colorado and Southern. Also when 
 Colorado Steel first appeared on the market, he had bought 
 a huge block of it, and at the various periods of its de 
 velopment, during which it had increased its capital stock 
 from time to time, the far seeing agent of the Browns 
 had added considerably to their holdings of that now 
 enormously valuable property. 
 
 For years this list of stocks and bonds had remained 
 among the securities of Standish Brown almost exactly 
 as when originally purchased, except in cases where the 
 original stock had been called in and new stock issued
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 367 
 
 to replace it, or bonds had been called in and canceled. 
 In addition to these holdings were deeds to some inside 
 Denver real estate, which, purchased in 1885-86 for a 
 few thousand dollars, were now valued at hundreds of 
 thousands. In fact, the Colonel had invested in very lit 
 tle dead property, having avoided the purchase of min 
 ing stock, unimproved city real estate, and other non-in 
 terest bearing investments, outside of railroad and local 
 industrial securities. In almost every instance, his in 
 vestments had not only produced a steady and substan 
 tial annual income, but also the principal itself had in 
 creased heavily in value, and in several notable instances 
 had doubled and trebled itself several times above the 
 original cost. 
 
 When Standish finally became thoroly familar and 
 fully informed upon the various resources of his estate, 
 his investments being almost entirely centered in Colo 
 rado and Western enterprises, he felt that he knew 
 the state and the history of its industrial development 
 like a book. Following the example of his predecessor, he 
 interested himself in almost every new enterprise that ap 
 peared in the West, and in those which stood the test 
 of his rigid investigation he invariably invested gener 
 ously. Thru the medium of this experience, coupled with 
 his long and interesting life among the miners of Plume, 
 his costly tho successful experience in Denver politics, 
 and his extensive personal acquaintance with various 
 corporation representatives, he had acquired a splendid in 
 sight into human nature and the world of finance. 
 
 His intellect, which had matured so slowly, and which 
 had taken such a severe schooling to develop, was now 
 coming to a sane and masterful ascendency. The soul 
 and moral battles which he had fought so gallantly 
 among the solitudes of the mountains and his lonely cot 
 tage at Plume, had given him an understanding and 
 knowledge of self that was truly admirable. Happily for 
 him, he had in his mental development, almost uncon 
 sciously followed the philosophy of all the great soul 
 instructors of the past, such as Socrates, the Christ, Luther, 
 Spinoza, Goethe, Emerson and Carlyle; viz. "Know thy-
 
 368 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 self." Develop from the divine inner man, the glorious 
 outer man. 
 
 There have always been two great fundamental orders 
 of men predominating the human race, the DOUBTER 
 and the BELIEVER. 
 
 One order forever suspicious, selfish, brutish; who, lost 
 in admiration of their wisdom, call themselves in the apt 
 term of the sport, "wise gizables," and all others than 
 themselves "suckers." 
 
 The other order, believing, unselfish, god like; who, 
 meekly submitting to the opprobrium of being called 
 suckers, appear to be perfectly contented as long as they 
 are undisturbed in the practice of happiness, optimism, 
 and charity. 
 
 Of this latter order Standish was a worthy example a 
 sucker of the first water. He invariably believed in a 
 man until that man proved false; and even then, at the 
 revelation and confession of the falseness and weakness of 
 a fellowman, the kindly mine owner was tolerant to a 
 fault. 
 
 Having thus run the gauntlet of the years, tossed by 
 the wild waves of Life's stormy ocean; drifting with its 
 swelling tides, and beaten by its fierce contending gales; 
 he had found a safe pilot in Experience, and he felt 
 that he was capable of weathering any future storm how 
 ever fierce it might rage ; and the sweetest thought of all 
 to him was, that he could still meet a man and trust 
 him not doubt him. 
 
 But alas! How often are the strong brought down to 
 despair. Yea! Even to the white-haired patriarch as he 
 totters beside the dark and yawning grave. A man can 
 still be a believer at forty, even at fifty. But after that 
 it is only a hero who can still unfalteringly believe. 
 Doubt is too often the partner of old age. 
 
 Standish had watched the fight in Colorado Steel very 
 closely, as one would naturally expect from a large stock 
 holder. A letter from Grabbe requesting his proxy and 
 the advantages that would ensue thereby, laid upon his 
 desk unanswered. He did not wonder why it was that he 
 had failed to receive a similar request from Theodore
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 369 
 
 Dodge, and he smiled grimly to himself at the thought 
 of it. He felt like a cat that has hopelessly cornered a 
 mouse. Perhaps he would vote that stock in person, just 
 to hear somebody fall with a dull thud. That somebody 
 being Theodore Dodge, who in his machinations had 
 been piling up this catastrophe for years. A smooth 
 fellow who would soon slide swiftly to destruction upon 
 a toboggan of his own construction.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Standish looked at his watch, 11 :45. Time to go home 
 to lunch. As he snapped the lid Johnson came in. 
 
 "A lady to see you, sir." 
 
 "Did she give you a card, Gus?" 
 
 " No sir. She said she must see you personally. She 
 is closely veiled." 
 
 Standish wondered. 
 
 " You may show her in, Gus, but please remain in the 
 room with us. Busy yourself at the bookcases." 
 
 He rose as they entered and bowed politely to the 
 stranger, who gave a slight nod in response, and addressed 
 him in a voice that was somewhat agitated. 
 
 " I believe I recognize Mr. Standish Brown, formerly 
 of Plume," she said. 
 
 " The same, rnadame. Please be seated," he replied, 
 as Johnson proffered her a chair. As she sank into it, 
 she said: 
 
 " Mr. Brown, my business is of the utmost privacy," 
 looking apprehensively toward Johnson who had turned 
 to the bookcases. 
 
 " Mr. Johnson," said Standish, motioning him toward 
 the door. "You may retire now, thank you." 
 
 And as that worthy disappeared, Standish turned his 
 gaze upon his visitor again, to find her raising the veil 
 from her face. She did this very deliberately, lifting 
 it carefully back over her hat, and pinning it so that it 
 would not fall. Her arm and sleeve obscured her coun 
 tenance, but when she dropped her arm and turned to 
 ward him, he started very perceptibly. 
 
 "Mollie Mollie Rogan!" he gasped. And for a mo 
 ment he was so overcome by his emotions, that he could 
 say nothing further, but only gazed upon the countenance 
 of his old sweetheart without a word. 
 
 371
 
 372 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Thru the windows of his new home he had often seen 
 whom he supposed was she, either entering or alighting 
 from her carriage across the street, but he had otherwise 
 given her slight notice or thought, the long years having 
 almost removed her from his life. Slowly recovering 
 himself, he waited for her to break the silence. 
 
 "Yes, it is I," she said simply, lifting her expressive 
 blue eyes toward him and smiling. Then, as she ob 
 served his face, she could detect a trace of the nervous 
 twitching, which used to spread over it in the old days 
 in the fierce play of his thought. 
 
 " What a grand head," she thought, remembering him 
 as the raw, awkward youth; a great rough, unhewn rock 
 as it were. 
 
 In the youth of a star, of a world, of a mountain ; and 
 even down to man, the lines are often rough, obscured, 
 and unhewn. It is only the sculpture of Life that makes 
 them ornate. 
 
 Yet there is a certain majesty in the rough block, the 
 unpolished surface, the line concealed in the mass. It is 
 the promise that under the hand of the eternal sculptor, 
 Life, the rough block will emerge into form imperish 
 able. 
 
 It is said that the mighty Angelo carved no statue but 
 that somewhere in the work he left one line uncut. And 
 in that uncut line lies a mighty truth. 
 
 It is the master's confession and tribute to his Maker, 
 that hidden in the statue is that more infinitely more-y 
 beautiful statue, the eternal IDEA, the Genius of Inspi 
 ration, the surpassing creation of the infinite God. That 
 beneath the rough husk is the more perfect grain; that 
 within the perishing corruptible flesh is the conquer 
 ing immortal SOUL. 
 
 Mollie noticed many lines in her former lover's face 
 that were not there when she knew him in the old days 
 at Plume. She almost wished that they were not there now, 
 for she had always remembered the bold features of the 
 youth. They were indelibly stamped upon her memory, 
 and she hoped that it was no shame to confess it 
 they were really endeared to her.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 373 
 
 There was one familiar line that remained however, 
 powerful, mighty as of yore. A facial curve of majesty. 
 Defier of sham. A mighty line of truth worship. The 
 facial certificate of an undaunted soul. 
 
 The other lines of his face were much softened. Lover- 
 hood, husbandhood, fatherhood, had made them tender, 
 sympathetic, gentle. But silencing her sentiment in this 
 respect, she slowly laid before him the situation in Col 
 orado Steel, and then boldly asked him to support her 
 husband at the morrow's election. 
 
 Standish listened attentively to it all, often fumbling 
 his watch chain with his nervous fingers. When she 
 had finished, he rose to his feet and paced back and forth 
 across the huge rug spread upon the floor in front of 
 his desk. Then seating himself, he pulled a well worn 
 wallet from his inner coat pocket, from which he ex 
 tracted an old letter, quite yellow and worn with age; 
 the letter which she had written to him seventeen years 
 ago, breaking their engagement; opening it, he pro 
 ceeded to read in slow deliberate tones. 
 
 She blushed furiously as he read, and as he replaced 
 it carefully within the wallet, he turned to her and said 
 in deep earnestness: 
 
 " Mrs. Dodge, or Mollie, rather, in the memory of old 
 times, the day that I received this letter, I had bought 
 you a beautiful diamond ring. It would be useless for 
 me to tell you how I worked for the little trinket; how 
 I feasted my eyes upon it as it laid in the jeweler's win 
 dow ; or how I saved and bought it one bright, happy day. 
 Perhaps perhaps you can imagine my feelings when I 
 received this letter of yours. Honest, it almost broke my 
 heart. Shortly afterward I returned to Plume. I was 
 unnerved, shattered, broken; but felt, that perhaps in 
 that old mine of ours, I could forget. But it was my 
 peculiar fate to receive in that grim gray vault of the 
 40 Rounds, an even more cruel letter than the one you 
 sent me could ever be." Turning to his desk, he pro 
 duced from its capacious depths a piece of granite about 
 a foot long, quite broad at the base and shaped like 
 a miniature pyramid. It was very heavy and he evi-
 
 374 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 dently used it for a paper weight. At the very tip of the 
 specimen, was an inch or so of glittering quartz. It 
 was a piece of ore from the 40 Rounds, attached to a 
 foot of granite exactly as it was mined. 
 
 "This this was the letter," he continued, holding 
 the specimen toward her, "sent to me by Almighty God. 
 Mollie, if I had gone one foot further into the breast 
 of the 40 Rounds before I made that unfortunate trip 
 to Denver, I would have struck it rich, and you would 
 probably have become my wife, for at the very first 
 shot upon my return to Plume we struck this ore which 
 has since made my fortune. Is not this terrible, at least 
 remarkable?" he asked. 
 
 From the depths of her chair Mollie's head nodded as 
 she shaded her face with her handkerchief. 
 
 " Now, as to this letter of yours," he continued, "I have 
 forgiven you, long long ago. I was much to blame in 
 the matter. I should have been more frank, and told 
 you of my extreme poverty, and how I was planning to 
 get you the ring. But you know, Mollie, I was young 
 and proud then, and didn't understand that somebody 
 else might have loved you as well as I. I I must have 
 really thought at the time that you were all mine." 
 
 Mollie heard his confession with a breaking heart. 
 
 " But," he continued, turning the specimen over in 
 his hand, "when I received this letter of the rocks, it 
 gradually dawned on me, after I began to rally from the 
 blow, that Destiny that God perhaps, had decreed in 
 this terrible manner that we should never become hus 
 band and wife." And sighing deeply, he returned the 
 specimen to its place. 
 
 " Now, I must tell you the worst, Mollie. While your 
 husband and I have never met, yet he is the one indi 
 vidual in all the world, who has heaped upon me such 
 indignities as to have almost discouraged me. You, 
 yourself, have just told me that he has actually ac 
 knowledged to you several of the infamous machinations 
 which he has inflicted upon me in times past, but I 
 doubt if even he, himself, realizes the full measure of 
 them as I see them. When he was connected with the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 375 
 
 smelter combine he fairly persecuted me. It cost me 
 over ten thousand dollars to remove the unfair railroad 
 rates from Plume to Goldie; and I have absolute proof 
 that it was your husband who planned my inveiglement 
 into a four years' contract with the Smelter Trust, an 
 instrument which is my sorrow and shame to this day; 
 and which has forced me against my will to become an 
 actual tho hopeless protesting subscriber to the iniqui 
 tous rule of the American Smelter Co. Mollie, I forgive 
 you the writing of that letter, I freely forgive you all 
 the youthful sorrow you caused me, and I trust you 
 hold no malice toward me. It was better so. The same 
 fate which crossed me so cruelly in our affair, has 
 brought me a beautiful wife and a promising son. But 
 as for your husband, Mollie, who now faces certain de 
 feat, I absolutely refuse to check the punishment which 
 he so richly deserves. He has been sowing the seed for 
 years, let him now reap the harvest. It will be a reaping of 
 thistles, but I affirm to you that it is just. And it only 
 confirms my long held idea, that a man can't always go 
 against God and the right, and remain unpunished." 
 
 Mollie's heart sank at the enmity expressed by the 
 speaker against her husband, for she knew he spoke the 
 truth. 
 
 "Oh! Standish," she exclaimed desperately, "God 
 knows my husband has injured you, has wronged you; 
 yes almost as cruelly as my poor foolish self. But it's 
 all a mistake all a mistake," she moaned, "and if you 
 will only grant my prayer, Standish, Theodore and I 
 will spend the balance of our lives in proving to you 
 and to our God, that we are not so base as it now seems." 
 
 He looked at her sorrowfully, almost scornfully, as 
 she burst into tears. 
 
 " Yes, now that the shoe at last pinches the foot. Bah ! 
 How you have both scorned to consider my feelings and 
 circumstances when you were treading across my pros 
 trate form on the easy thoughtless road of what the 
 world calls, success. Pshaw! It is amusing to see your 
 tears, madame." 
 
 "Standish! Standish!" she cried, despairingly, vainly
 
 376 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 trying to think of an argument to replace her entreaties. 
 "This is more than a personal affair between you and The 
 odore. It is a fight between Colorado, your own state, and 
 Wall Street. The West against the East. Surely, you, who 
 pride yourself on home enterprises, will not lend your aid 
 to this man Grabbe, to bind the state of Colorado in the 
 meshes of the Steel Trust." 
 
 He gazed at her with blazing eyes. 
 
 "You, madame, how dare you preach the subterfuge 
 of state loyalty to me. You, who have made yourself 
 a stranger to this fair land of ours for years. You, whose 
 husband was so largely instrumental in turning over 
 our smelting industry to the Guggenhones; and who has 
 for years tried to crush out the life of those rough, 
 honest miners of Plume and the state in general thru 
 unfair railroad rates. You, who have supped the cream 
 of luxury in foreign lands, with others of your like who 
 call themselves Coloradoans, and who by such acts scorn 
 the fair land that produces their husbands' millions. Be 
 lieve me, madame, it is useless for us to further discuss 
 this subject." 
 
 As she sat silent for a few moments apparently com 
 pletely crushed, he arose, and walking to the window, 
 gazed into the street, deeply troubled and indignant. 
 
 Presently the despairing woman crossed to him, and 
 resting her daintily gloved hands upon his shoulder, 
 said: 
 
 "Standish, how vain and weak are my arguments. 
 Yet, my old sweetheart, my hero, how can I live and 
 suffer you to humiliate us. I beg of you repress your 
 thoughts of revenge, even if it is only your desire for 
 righteous judgment. With the thought of meeting you 
 once more, I imagined you as having grown great enough 
 to forgive everything, and pledging you that Theo and 
 I have at last come to our senses ; and have promised our 
 God that we will spend the balance of our days in making 
 just amends to you, whom we have to a great degree 
 unwittingly and circumstantially wronged, I plead with 
 you to give us your forgiveness, Standish, and I swear 
 your kindness shall never be forgotten. Our desperate
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 377 
 
 situation at the present moment is such as to fully justify 
 your faith as to our punishment, yet that same power 
 which has brought us so low now demands of you both 
 mercy and magnanimity." 
 
 The tall figure did not move, however, and between 
 her sobs the despairing woman spoke again. 
 
 " Standish, I beg of you to prove that you are the true 
 man I have always known you were, even tho I have done 
 you wrong. Surely you are my hero, Standish, the good 
 noble-hearted man who used to hold me in his arms 
 in the old days of Plume. Even tho it is my fate to 
 be the wife of another, yet I swear to you, Standish, that 
 I have never ceased to admire your noble qualities, and 
 cannot believe that you will fail me in this crisis. Speak 
 speak to me," she entreated wildly, "and assure me 
 that you will not crush us so cruelly." 
 
 But the silent man only shrugged his shoulders coldly 
 and made no reply. 
 
 Her hands fell despairingly from his shoulder, and 
 lowering her veil she returned to her chair and sank 
 into it with a moan of distress. 
 
 In a few moments he turned and looked at her ; then she 
 raised her veil and gazed at him in simple and unaf 
 fected appeal, as if to show him a soul that was great 
 enough to bear sorrow as well as joy. 
 
 "Mrs. Dodge," he said at last, "believe me, you had 
 better go. God knows I had not intended to humiliate 
 you unduly in this matter. The world is large. Let each 
 abide our destiny. If we are without sin we cannot 
 fail of peace and prosperity in the end." 
 
 She rose to go, but suddenly as tho inspired, she brought 
 forth from her bosom her tiny crucifix, and advancing 
 toward him, she held it aloft as far as the chain would 
 permit, saying gently and calmly, with the air of a 
 saint: 
 
 "Standish, behold a woman in distress. Do not turn 
 your heart against the man she loves, lest the act cause 
 an all-seeing power to turn and rend you. You laid 
 claims to Christianity in the old days, have you forgotten
 
 378 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 that charity is absolutely demanded of you by the terms 
 of the covenant? How can you evade the issue when it 
 is here placed squarely in front of you? Yours be the 
 responsibility, not mine. I have asked mercy at your 
 hands. I have made in these last few moments, every 
 appeal and promise that a self respecting woman could. 
 May God forgive you." 
 
 She was very beautiful. A benign St. Genevieve. She 
 spoke like an angel, simply, without affectation, from the 
 heart. Carefully replacing the trinket in her bosom, 
 she dropped her veil and slowly passed out of the room 
 without waiting for a reply. As she left him, a torrent 
 of hot protesting words rushed to his lips, but he was 
 held in the spell of some rebuking power which bade him 
 be still. 
 
 (Standish did not go home to lunch after all, instead, 
 he phoned. With the same unfaltering courage as of 
 yore, he fought out the battle within his soul. 
 
 The image of the immortal Nazarene appeared upon 
 the Sublime Stage, and under that divine guidance the 
 mine owner quickly eliminated the thought of business 
 gains in Colorado Steel. Also the issue of Colorado ver 
 sus Wall Street. Next, he removed his deep desire for 
 revenge on Theodore Dodge. Finally he forced aside 
 whatever lingering sentiment he might have had for his 
 old sweetheart, Mollie Rogan. With all these minor fac 
 tors removed, the great and true one still remained. 
 
 Right, or wrong? 
 
 Christ, or self? 
 
 Standish was not a churchman. He conformed to 
 neither creed nor pulpit. He might have been termed a 
 historical Christian. His Saxon fathers had been forced 
 to choose between the sword or Christ by the mighty 
 Charlemagne, and having accepted the covenant, no mat 
 ter how humiliating the terms of force, they had been 
 true to that covenant. His inheritance from his ances 
 tors and also his own conviction was, that the true church 
 was, LIFE. The true religion was, ISRAELISM, the 
 religion of TRUTH, wherever and whenever found, and
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 379 
 
 that the gateway to Truth, by the terms of the cove 
 nant of Charlemagne, was CHRIST, the founder of 
 Gentile Israelism. 
 
 He turned to the Law. 
 
 " Blessed are the merciful, for they shall obtain mercy." 
 
 " Forgive your enemies." 
 
 "Little children, love one another." 
 
 This was the Law as it had been given on the Mount, 
 and later sealed with the blood of the Martyr. Try as he 
 would, Standish could not evade it, even in this matter 
 of worldly business. Mollie's apparent weakness was her 
 tower of strength he was whipped. 
 
 In the midst of his travail he again pulled forth the 
 wallet from his pocket. From it he took a piece of oil- 
 silk, in which was carefully wrapped a couple of sheets 
 of paper covered with characters dim and almost illeg 
 ible. But what matter. Every word was stamped upon his 
 soul. 
 
 It was the death letter which old Peter Brown had 
 written to him in the depths of the 40 Rounds with his 
 last dying. strength; and every word seemed to shine out 
 of the sacred pages upon the son as tho written in letters 
 of fire. 
 
 The last words were: "I die a Christian." 
 
 Tears sprang from the eyes of the son. Enough! Dear 
 old dad. Your son will never betray you. The battle 
 ceased. The divine figure of the Christ upon the Sublime 
 Stage had scourged the lions of Self back to their lair. 
 And as an outward indication of the result of the con 
 flict, Standish rose from his chair exclaiming: "Stan- 
 dish Brown, you're the biggest fool in Colorado"; and 
 picking up his hat and striding swiftly out into the hall, 
 he pushed the elevator button impatiently.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 Late that afternoon Annette entered the apartment of 
 her mistress. The shades were pulled down. Going to the 
 divan upon which Mrs. Dodge reclined in a state of com 
 plete prostration, her eyes swollen from weeping and her 
 face ashy with despair, the maid handed her a card. Rais 
 ing herself slightly while the maid lifted the shade so 
 she could see to read, she started at the name, and with 
 out giving the slightest heed to her toilet, ran swiftly 
 down stairs into the reception room. As she entered, 
 Standish Brown advanced and bowed politely. 
 
 " Mrs. Dodge," he said, slightly touching her proffered 
 hand, "I have reconsidered the matter which we discussed 
 this morning, and I have made up my mind to sup 
 port your husband in this Colorado Steel election. I will 
 send him my proxy tomorrow in ample time to be voted, 
 and I sincerely trust that the outcome of the affair will 
 be satisfactory to you. May may I also venture," he 
 added, as he read from her worn and swollen features 
 the suffering which she had endured the past few hours, 
 "to render a humble apology for the concern and anxiety 
 which my actions have caused you?" 
 
 He spoke pathetically and with such sympathy and 
 honesty that Mollie was completely overcome, and she 
 stood for a moment like a statue. 
 
 In the tide of fashion in gay Gotham, diplomatic 
 Washington, foppish London, she could have spoken. 
 Now she was in a new world. A world of eloquent si 
 lence, unbroken save with the whirring wings of senti 
 ment and the holy, silent communion of souls who know 
 but dare not express. 
 
 Not until he had passed her in the vestibule and opened 
 the outer door, did she realize, then following after him 
 as a kindred spirit as he descended the steps, she called 
 
 381
 
 382 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 his name softly in terms of chaste endearment, mur 
 muring: "God bless my hero, God bless him." 
 
 The tall figure walked straight ahead apparently un 
 concerned, but as he crossed the street and entered his 
 home he hastily brushed his eyes with his coat sleeve 
 as he heard the "trip-trip" of a light footstep; an instant 
 later the inner door swung open and the dainty form of 
 his own little wife nestled in his arms, while a small boy 
 quickly followed, tugging lustily at his coat tails. 
 
 The older residenter's prophecy came true, for at dusk, 
 the snow, which at first was spit out sparingly from a 
 few stray clouds, began to fall heavily, driven fiercely 
 forward in the teeth of a wild gale. 
 
 It was the first real blast of winter, and the storm hav 
 ing acquired a frightful velocity in the mountains, swept 
 furiously out upon the helpless, shivering plains. 
 
 Whew! How it howled in the chimney. 
 
 Standish, sitting before the cheery fireplace in the liv 
 ing room, shrugged his shoulders significantly from time 
 to time, and thought of what the wild night meant to the 
 railroad men in the mountains and on the plains, and 
 wondered how many inches of snow there might be at 
 high-cragged Plume. 
 
 Fiorina was sewing, curled up in a big rocker near the 
 fire. She was the perfect embodiment of peace and con 
 tent as she worked. Strange employment for a woman 
 whose husband was so rich in this world's goods. But 
 no, not so strange after all. For the love of the tall 
 man sitting by her side was to her greater than his ma 
 terial riches; and she, his wife, was the true companion, 
 not of those riches, but of his simple, honest manhood. 
 
 Mary, Queen of Scots, was famous for her beautiful 
 needlework. It is said that she actually bound up men's 
 hearts in the play of her magic fingers. One can easily 
 imagine it, for as Fiorina counted the stitches and plied 
 her deft needle, her husband rested his fond gaze upon 
 her; his heart went out to her, and he looked into the 
 great theatre of his soul for the play. 
 
 The play was, "Woman's Mission to Man."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 383 
 
 Women in pure, spotless maidenhood, bind men to the 
 human life with their beauty, their charms, their pas 
 sion. 
 
 This is the INVITATION. 
 
 The maiden, the virgin, is framed for the Invitation, 
 and not for the temptation as some would have it. 
 
 Oh! Thou! Inspired author of Genesis, how often art 
 thou sorrily misinterpreted. 
 
 The sacred chronicles of High Nature defy the morbid 
 poet, the pessimist, the unholy painter of feminine formed 
 vampires; neither can prove women the sin the Temp 
 tation. 
 
 Nay I More! All such are base cowards, defamers, 
 a brood of moral leprous notoriety-seeking vipers; for 
 woman, proclaimed pure by the sacred seal of High 
 Nature, is the glorious and all joyous Invitation. 
 
 Woman is also the sublime FULFILLMENT. 
 
 As wives, women reveal to men thru the married re 
 lation, the supreme goodness of God, in their sacrifices, 
 their loyalty, their boundless love. 
 
 As mothers, they deliver to man the most precious and 
 glorious fabric of human life children. This is their 
 DIVINITY. 
 
 Thus woman is the Invitation, the Fulfillment, the 
 Divinity of FLESH. And flesh contains the earthly 
 presence of the eternal God. 
 
 For this reason, the worship of Mary, the mother of 
 the infant Jesus, constitutes one of the most beautiful 
 elements in the mighty fabric of the Roman Church.' 
 
 The Pope, is the benificent high priest, the awful key- 
 bearer of Heaven and Hell. 
 
 The Christ, is the divine Son of God, sitting in His 
 Father's kingdom upon the right hand, immaculate, 
 holy. 
 
 But the gentle Mary, the warm rosy fleshed mother of 
 Jesus the purling babe; fills the Roman world with the 
 full, warm fervent beat of her great mother heart. 
 
 Humanity understands the mother love. 
 
 It pulses the heart. It kisses the lips. It folds you
 
 384 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 tenderly in its sheltering, shielding arms. It embraces 
 you. It plucks you ragged and unkempt from the mire 
 of the street and fondly calls you its own. It croons you 
 to sleep and repose, and when you awake it bids you hope 
 and cheer. It fills. It completely satisfies and soothes. It 
 gloriously redeems. 
 
 Christ, is the sublime, soaring, conquering soul. 
 
 Mary, is the close, warm-beating mother heart. 
 
 Christ is snow. 
 
 Mary is blood. 
 
 Standish sat in the firelight and contrasted his con 
 tented child wife with Mrs. Dodge. 
 
 He thought of Mrs. Dodge's personality as that of a 
 great brilliantly illumed mansion. A magnificent palace 
 as it were, filled with priceless works of art; with culture 
 and intellect, and all the graces of society. 
 
 But his little Fiorina was a dainty cozy cottage, fur 
 nished w r ith a neat set table ; a Bible upon a stand ; a lily 
 blooming in a pot upon the window ledge ; an easy chair 
 for the master; and a kettle singing busily over the fire 
 of the warm inviting hearth. 
 
 Every man to his choice. Standish prefered the cot 
 tage. 
 
 Fiorina had no culture save that which nature gave her 
 in its pure artless way. She possessed few ideas of art, 
 and the care and responsibilities of a large establishment 
 would have been a hopless burden to her. 
 
 But ah! When it came to children. Was there ever 
 such a clucking and cooing. Such a straightening out 
 of the kinks in little Peter's moods and troubles. How 
 she invited his tiny budding soul to unfold and courag 
 eously look into the great strange world. 
 
 Sweet little mother, Fiorina. In the world of the 
 child she reigned supreme. 
 
 Yes, Standish preferred the cottage.
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 Phoebe Prim was a reporter for the "Press," and most 
 of the time during business hours she sat in the dingy 
 room assigned to the reportorial staff arranging material 
 . for her famous short stories. 
 
 The readers of the "Press" loved and treasured Phoebe 
 when it came to one of her live, chatty reports of some 
 society event, or when she wrote up an interview with 
 some interesting party. For she was a natural born char 
 acter painter, and as one posed before her and 
 most of us do pose unconsciously she would paint both 
 one's inner and outer character with the word colors of 
 a master. Often her pen .portrait being in every way 
 superior to a photograph; for in addition to portraying 
 the outward appearance, she revealed thru her inimitable 
 cleverness, .the very inner quick of the individual's soul 
 and personal peculiarities. Her admirers, however, al 
 ways felt sorry for Phoebe when she was forced, perhaps 
 by the insistent management of the "Press," into writ 
 ing a story, a creative task which was not at all to her 
 liking when engaged in reportorial work. But something 
 must be done when the town w y as dull to fill the columns, 
 and so between the visits of famous and notorious char 
 acters to the mountain metropolis, she must invent some 
 tragic killing, portray a heart-smashing love affair, or 
 marry a deserving old spinster to her father's brother-in- 
 law, and the like. 
 
 It was plainly evident that Phoebe's heart was not 
 in the stuff she was scribbling that afternoon, for she 
 looked up nervously when any of the staff entered or 
 left the office, and started apprehensively whenever the 
 phone rang, and watched the call-boy anxiously as he 
 answered the call. Presently it rang again, and after 
 hanging up the receiver the boy approached her desk. 
 
 385
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 "Miss Smith says to tell you that the Grabbe special 
 has arrived," he said. 
 
 Miss Smith was the Western Union operator at the 
 union depot, and a special friend of Phoebe's and this was 
 the call that Phoebe had been waiting for so anxiously. 
 
 Hastily thrusting the manuscript upon which she had 
 been working into her sealskin muff, she stepped briskly 
 out of the office and down the dark, narrow stairs to 
 the street. 
 
 As she walked up Sixteenth Street she observed the 
 passing throng interestedly in her instinctive search for 
 character. Denver was a right smart town in 1902. Its 
 population was made up of people from all parts of the 
 world. The various names on the sign-boards of the 
 mercantile houses and shops of the principal streets, ran 
 the Asiatic scale from China to Syria; Europe was rep 
 resented from Finland to Sicily. Klondikers rubbed el 
 bows wth Mexicans, and red-cheeked Kanucks exchanged 
 curious glances with trim Japanese. All these races 
 mingling together good-humoredly in this busy inland 
 city. A marvel of cosmopolitanism weaving its wondrous 
 racial web on the Great Divide, over a thousand miles 
 from the salty tides. 
 
 The two inches of snow which had fallen the previous 
 night had melted, it was muddy under foot; but the 
 sun was shining brightly, the air was warm and balmy, 
 and the view of the white mantled Rockies was superb. 
 Dozens of "lungers," the Coloradoan's name for con 
 sumptives, were on the streets this sunny afternoon. 
 Most of these poor creatures had come from the consump 
 tive, fog-smothered East, only to die, perhaps, in a few 
 months, then to be quarreled over by a swarm of harpy 
 undertakers and express agents, and be returned in due 
 course of time by express in a wooden box to anxious 
 friends and relatives "down East," with the fatal cer 
 tificate tacked on the lid: "Cause of death, pulmonary 
 tuberculosis," etc., etc. 
 
 How Phoebe's heart bled for the poor, emaciated, death- 
 marked creatures. Ofttimes these distressed health seek-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 387 
 
 ers are so numerous on the streets and in the lodging 
 houses of Denver, with their hacking, death-rattling cough 
 and blood spitting, that ye Old Residenter, having merely 
 contracted a case of common la grippe, convinces him 
 self that he, too, has become infected; and accordingly 
 makes his will, only to joyfully tear it up again when he 
 has recovered from his hard wrestle with bromo-laxative. 
 
 Phoebe also passed window after window of the numer 
 ous curio shops which are patronized so generously by 
 the thousands of tourists who throng the city every sum 
 mer. Many of these windows are filled with brilliantly- 
 dyed Navajo blankets, and in one of them a real Navajo 
 squaw was industriously w r eaving as an advertisement. 
 
 Several gentlemen recognized Phoebe and bowed a polite 
 greeting as she threaded her way among the hissing 
 motor cars and splendidly varnished vehicles, drawn by 
 blooded horses, which thronged the busy thorofare. They 
 had good reason to thus respectfully address this clever 
 woman, for she had the life of the town at her fingers' 
 ends, and it only required the push of her magic pencil 
 to mirror lier observations faithfully and wittily before 
 the public. 
 
 She was of a superb, full formed Juno figure, invari 
 ably gowned in an attractive and stylish manner, and 
 her carefully dressed hair shone in the sun like the finest 
 spun gold. She had a plump, round face, almost fat, 
 but charmingly relieved by a deeply emotional mouth, 
 that quivering at times in sympathetic tenderness, dim 
 pled prettily when she smiled. Her nose was a truly 
 wonderful creation, shaped a la Cyrano, tho of much 
 smaller proportions. Starting from the head with a 
 broad base, it. suddenly rounded into a shapely stem, 
 and Nature, as if experimenting with noses when Phoebe 
 was born, freakishly gave it a final playful pinch, pro 
 ducing a wonderfully sharp, peaked tip, that jutted out 
 saucily into the world, a thing of exquisite sensitiveness, 
 producing an effect striking, tho not unbecoming. The 
 crowning attraction of this gifted woman was her won 
 derful eyes, and it is doubtful if they could be duplicated
 
 388 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 in all the world. Their color was like the bluish green 
 of the turquoise, but instead of displaying the solid col 
 ored pigment of this handsome gem-stone, they were 
 perfectly formed transparent crystals, which not only 
 held the original color in suspension, but thru which 
 glittered and sifted the roseate fires of brilliant opals. 
 They seemed to be almost living beings, optical chamel 
 eons, perhaps, apparently glancing inward upon Phrebe's 
 soul as readily as they looked out upon the world. There 
 fore, in her remarkable delineation of character, one glance 
 with those wonderful eyes seemed to impress upon her 
 mind, the characters, gowns, figures, and the very souls 
 of those society belles whom she was commissioned to de 
 scribe. The day following some brilliant function, dozens 
 of these handsome creatures were painted in the columns 
 of the "Press," with the utmost fidelity and detail. No one, 
 not even burgomaster, spider-hidden David Moore, had 
 ever successfully resisted Phoebe's request when once her 
 eyes flashed forth their desire for an interview. 
 
 At the intersection of Broadway, Seventeenth, and 
 Tremont streets, is the leading hotel of Denver. An im 
 mense, nine-storied, fireproof building. The Brown 
 Palace Hotel is the name given the establishment at the 
 top of the huge register lying upon the beautiful onyx 
 counter of the hostelry; but to Coloradoans, especially 
 the society folks of Denver, it is familiarly known as 
 "Mrs. Brown's." Within its massive walls are huge 
 parlors, ball-rooms, libraries, grills, dining halls, and tier 
 upon tier, suite upon suite, of elegantly furnished living 
 apartments. 
 
 This famous hostelry has by custom become the uni 
 versal Mecca, not only of Colorado brides and grooms, 
 but its fame is far-reaching beyond the State. 
 
 Dusky Spanish and Mexican belles from the distant 
 San Juan and Uncompahgre districts, Russian and Polish 
 beauties from the sugar-beet districts of Greeley and Fort 
 Collins. Cattle girls from Routt county, on the Yampa, 
 with their short skirts and high-heeled boots. The fair, 
 soft complexioned daughters of prosperous canteloupe
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 389 
 
 growers from Rocky Ford and Las Animas, and rich 
 fruit growers from the valleys of the Gunnison and the 
 Grand. Dainty, nut-brown Italian maids and their coal- 
 miner husbands from Trinidad and the Spanish counties 
 on the New Mexican border. Flaxen-haired Swedish 
 belles from the Clear Creek and Gilpin mining districts, not 
 to mention the numerous representatives of the more 
 familiar races of the Eastern states, the English, Dutch, 
 Scotch, Irish, and the Germans. All here at Mrs. Brown's, 
 booked for a day or so, enjoying their first jump off in 
 the great sea of Matrimony, and fairly touching elbows 
 with many of Colorado's millionaires. Feasting on rare 
 viands and sleeping on beds that could rest a king in 
 comfort. 
 
 The Brown is also a favorite stopping place for tour 
 ists and world travelers en route from the effete East to 
 luxurious San Francisco. Sometimes, when closely ques 
 tioned, New Yorkers have admitted that they could stand 
 the fare at Mrs. Brown's for a few days, in spite of the 
 fact that they were fresh from the luxuries of the Wal 
 dorf-Astoria and others. 
 
 It was to this same Mrs. Brown's that Phoebe hied her 
 self this afternoon, in order to secure an interview with 
 the notorious John Wreckor Grabbe. 
 
 This " Bet-you-a-million" celebrity was in high good 
 humor this particular day, the success of his special train 
 idea having far exceeded his expectations. The Associated 
 Press the previous morning had given him a full column 
 as he left Chicago with his motley crew of followers. The 
 Burlington passenger department had promised him a 
 fast run to Denver, and the eyes of the country were full 
 upon him. 
 
 As they sped thru the villages at a mad gait, and even 
 scorned the larger towns and cities in their spectacular 
 flight across the Middle West, Grabbe was entranced 
 with his importance. Why! They hadn't even stopped 
 at Lincoln, the Nebraska Capital, his press agent had 
 seen to that. And all for what? Just to let the American
 
 390 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 people know how great a man was John Wreckor Grabbe 
 at least that is what he thought. 
 
 What a mission was his! 
 
 Issuing spectacularly in a magnificent special train 
 from out the East in company with his faithful followers, 
 dashing scornfully thru the West, and on into Colorado, 
 and with one mighty stroke overwhelming his antagonist 
 and carrying away for his rich spoil, the mastery of Col 
 orado Steel. 
 
 Ah! If only his friend, the illustrious First Citizen, 
 could behold him now. 
 
 But he would see him soon. For returning to little 
 old New York, fresh and victorious from the combat, 
 with the admiring eyes of the whole American Nation 
 upon him, he would throw himself into the paternal 
 arms of the First Citizen, dutifully deliver the goods, 
 and receive the paternal blessing. For it was widely 
 rumored that John Wreckor Grabbe was going to do a 
 little stunt for J. Pierpont Morgan, in adding another 
 choice morsel to the larder of the Steel Trust. 
 
 As Phoebe followed him about the corridors of the 
 hotel in an endeavor to corner him for the coveted in 
 terview, she saw at once the most conspicuous part of his 
 person. 
 
 It was his PAUNCH. 
 
 She made a note of that, for dressed in a great vest of 
 black and white checked silk, it was decidedly more ex 
 pressive than his face. 
 
 Such an expanse. 
 
 A vast balloon of heaving cuticle, with fleshy folds 
 visibly and constantly agitated by the contending fermen 
 tations of Budweiser, Mumm's Extra Dry, boiled cabbage 
 and pickles. 
 
 An enormous gold watch chain crawled over this 
 bloated protuberance, shining brightly upon the loud vest 
 and disappearing into a huge pocket just in reach of the 
 creature's stuffy hand, which had to reach straight down 
 the side and then suddenly dart in toward the paunch at 
 the waist-line in order to make connection. From the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 391 
 
 center of his cravat gleamed an enormous diamond, and 
 his chubby, fat hands blazed with precious gems ex 
 quisitely set in wide bands of chased gold. Tho they 
 were beautiful, yet it seemed to Phosbe that, it was almost 
 a sacrilege of the goldsmith's art to adorn such a mon 
 strosity. 
 
 When Phoebe at last succeeded in cornering the Paunch, 
 which occurred in the main lobby of the Brown, she 
 handed him her card. He examined it closely with his 
 small, beady eyes, and turning to one of his retinue, he 
 whispered in his ear, at which the follower nodded and 
 likewise replied in a whisper. After being thus charged 
 with a few volts of intellect by his handy retainer, the 
 Paunch slowly distended itself to the proportions of a 
 gigantic sausage, and with the magnificent air of a cor 
 pulent Malvolio, the monstrosity spoke. 
 
 "Um-m, I see. You represent the 'Press.' I under 
 stand it is the leading evening sheet of Denver. Er-r, 
 you know about my special train. Er-r, it broke a record, 
 you know." And here the eyes blinked eloquently and 
 the Paunch heaved with pride. 
 
 "What is my object in coming to Denver? Colorado 
 Steel? That's right. A large stockholder? Yes, I ex 
 pect to get control. This man Dodge has done me dirt 
 long enough. Besides, I want to actively manage the 
 affairs of the concern, and I'm going to get it, see? Um-m, 
 yes, I like Colorado and the West well enough. _ Going 
 to be a great country some day when Eastern capital gets 
 to coming in. But I like Noo Yawk, you know. A great 
 town, that; so handy to Lunnon. and so many of my 
 friends live there. Pierp, too, holds out there- when he 
 ain't in Lunnon, and you know I'm ace high with him. 
 Quite a time we had with L. & N. not long ago. Nearly 
 scared my friend Belmont to death. But I've got a 
 heart, madame. I ain't half so bad as I'm painted. 
 Bless those boys. Um-m, you know about my school for 
 boys, don't you? Well, it's all true. We must never so 
 far forget ourselves in this game of life, as to overlook 
 the youngsters. Er-r, I guess that's about all I can think
 
 392 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of now. Come and see me after the election and I'll 
 give you another breeze. Don't forget to put that in 
 about Dodge, for I'm going to get him sure pop, and 
 he may know enough to take the hint when he reads 
 how friendly I am towards him," and with this parting 
 admonition, the Paunch slowly waddled toward the ele 
 vator, followed by his satellites. 
 
 When Phoebe sat down to write up the interview for 
 the "Press" that same afternoon, that paunch of Grabbe's 
 greatly obscured her vision. She would have asked noth 
 ing better than to have described it in all its remarkable 
 gyrations, but thought it best for the interests of the 
 " Press" to omit it. In watching its amblings was the 
 real and true interview, but alas for truth, Phoebe wrote 
 the conventional otherwise, and the good citizens of Den 
 ver were apprised in the columns of the "Press" that 
 evening that John Wreckor Grabbe and his faithful fol 
 lowers were domiciled at Mrs. Brown's.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 John Charles Rose, who had long since established 
 himself as the greatest corporation lawyer of Denver, was 
 an early caller on Grabbe that evening. After his signal 
 defeat for congress, John Charles had suddenly forgotten 
 the sacred cause of the masses, the senate chamber of 
 the United States and the Democratic party, and had set 
 about to make himself the idol of the corporative inter 
 ests of the state. His success as an attorney for the 
 Smelter Trust had interested other Wall Street concerns, 
 who held extensive interests in the West, and he soon 
 became the confidential agent of the whole New York 
 crowd. To well-informed Coloradoans, however, he was 
 known and treated as the arch spy of Wall Street inter 
 ests, and his various machinations in the state legislature 
 and the courts, had completely estranged him from his 
 public-spirited and thoroly Westernized father. It was 
 he who having represented the Grabbe interests in Col 
 orado Steel in the circuit court, had won, after a fierce 
 legal combat, a court order requiring an election of officers 
 of that corporation. 
 
 The Paunch greeted his attorney with characteristic 
 you-may-please-kiss-my-foot manner, and together they 
 outlined a program for the morrow's work. 
 
 Now, there was one man in Denver whom Grabbe had 
 actually expressed a desire to meet, and that individual 
 was Standish Brown, whose stock Grabbe desired to vote 
 at the election. Rose and several other parties interested 
 in Colorado Steel had informed Grabbe of Brown's enmity 
 toward Dodge, and it was a part of the Paunch's plan 
 to whip Brown into line and vote the mine owner's stock, 
 he having already written Brown requesting his proxy, 
 but from whom he had as yet received no reply. 
 
 Rose readily assented to his client's request, that he 
 
 393
 
 394 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 arrange a meeting between them, and altho the attorney 
 had never held a conversation with- Standish since his 
 ignominious dismissal, yet he did not fear to meet him 
 in any way pertaining to his legal interests. 
 
 Promptly at ten o'clock the next morning the attorney 
 escorted the Paunch to Brown's office in the Insurance 
 building, and with unperturbed equanimity and positive 
 boldness, he introduced his client and bowed himself 
 from their presence. Standish was quite taken off his 
 guard at his former agent's boldness, and he made no 
 comment as that worthy abruptly disappeared, but greeted 
 the Paunch cordially, saying: 
 
 " Delighted to meet you, Mr. Grabbe, have a chair." 
 
 The Paunch sank into it with a satisfied grunt, and 
 pulling forth a couple of cigars, offered one to Standish, 
 which was declined with thanks. 
 
 "Huh! Don't smoke, Brown? You're missing a heap 
 of life," he said, as he lit one of the huge brown clubs 
 and blew the smoke toward the ceiling. Whenever the 
 Paunch had business to attend to, he invariably proceeded 
 to saturate himself with the aroma of the fragrant weed, 
 for true to the former habits of his first calling, a "drum 
 mer" for a notion house in Illinois, he always approached 
 a man on a business proposition in the same manner as 
 when he used to carry the grip; interesting a merchant 
 in his line of samples by handing him a cheap cigar and 
 telling him vulgar stories, and at that critical point where 
 his victim had fallen sufficiently under the spell of the 
 deadly cheroot in conjunction with the point of the 
 story, proceed to separate him from his money. 
 
 This easy method had brought the Paunch much of his 
 notoriety and worldly chattels, and his entire career had 
 been one of graft and" lucre along the lines of his original 
 traveling-man days ; with the addition of whatever sug 
 gestions his faithful followers might offer. Almost devoid 
 of everything in intellect save a remarkable development of 
 the raiding habit, the Paunch had surrounded himself 
 with a bunch of sporty, but clever fellows, who usually 
 furnished the brains for his financial operations, while
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 395 
 
 he furnished the bold front and the lucre. Squatting 
 under the green-goods tree, and burning up huge Ha- 
 vanas, the Paunch was worshipped by his flatterers much 
 as was Nero, in the days of ancient Rome. Like " Bronze- 
 beard," too, he was a player upon the lyre, but the strings 
 of his instrument were strands of barb-wire, hung be 
 tween fence posts. At this period of his career, however, 
 and having long since quit the selling of barb-wire, he 
 had also abandoned the lyre, its music had become too 
 soft and delicate. He had substituted the cymbals. Their 
 harsh, metallic clash was the sweetest music to him. Like 
 the Fejees, he admired a loud, monotonous clang. And 
 to the loud clash and clang of the cymbals the Paunch 
 was hailed by his adherents as the coming Potentate of 
 Steel. 
 
 Grabbe looked closely at the tall, calm-eyed man sitting 
 at the desk in front of him. He was the one man who 
 could make him supreme in Colorado Steel. The thought 
 delighted him. And, too, this man had been described to 
 him as a deadly enemy of Theodore Dodge. "Egad!" 
 thought Grabbe, "how I love the fellow," and the Paunch 
 heaved and trembled with carnal ecstasy. 
 
 " Brown," he . began, from under a dense cloud of 
 smoke. "You and I are in the same boat, I see. Both 
 
 got it in for Dodge. D him, anyway He's given me 
 
 a long chase, but I'm going to land on him good and 
 hard today. Um-m, I suppose you got my request for 
 the proxy 0. K?" 
 
 Standish nodded. 
 
 "I should have advised you, Brown, that outside of 
 your holdings, I own, and hold legal proxies, for exactly 
 forty-nine and five-tenths per cent of the stock of Col 
 orado Steel. Now I think I can beat Dodge today, even 
 at that figure, and without your stock; but if you will 
 give me the authority to vote your stock, it w r ill be a 
 cinch. Oh! they don't know me, Brown, until I once 
 get after 'em, and then they lay down, you can bet. I 
 
 beat the life out of the boys in American Wire. G 
 
 what a lot of suckers they were Ha! Ha! Ha!" and here
 
 396 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the Paunch shook with exultant glee. " Darn you, 
 Brown, you'd a died laffin' to seen 'em. Say did you 
 catch on to my deal in D. R. I. & N. W.? My but that 
 was easy money. Had the Milwaukee, Burlington and 
 Northwestern, all scrapping over a few measly miles of 
 railroad, and a cheap bridge across the Mississippi at 
 Rock Island. Sold out to 'em, and cleaned up a cool 
 million in six months. Darn 'em, they're talking about 
 it yet down there in the bottoms. But the smoothest deal 
 
 of all, Brown, was the big L. & N. killing. And say " 
 
 he continued, as he leaned over in his chair, addressing 
 Standish in the most friendly and confidential air pos 
 sible, "Old Pierp told me himself, that if I didn't look 
 out, he'd give me a good beating. Ha! Ha! Ha! Ain't 
 that rich? Egad, Brown, old Pierp's a brick. A regular 
 fire-eater. If you ever come down to Noo Yawk I will 
 sure introduce you." 
 
 By this time Grabbe felt that the time had come to 
 separate Standish from the proxy he so ardently coveted. 
 Indeed, he had spent quite a bit of valuable time with 
 this petty mine owner, and he must be up and doing. 
 Quite a bit of soft-soap wasted on this long, lank West 
 erner, but what matter, the game was worth it, and now 
 to land the goods. 
 
 "Well, Brown, how about that proxy? Am I to have 
 it, or will you vote the stock yourself?" 
 
 Standish looked at him good-humoredly, and said: 
 
 "Mr. Grabbe, the truth of the matter is, that I have 
 already pledged my proxy to another party." 
 
 " WTiat !" exclaimed the Paunch excitedly. " The deuce 
 you say. Who to?" 
 
 And as Standish looked steadily, almost mischievously, 
 into the eyes of the most vulgar and notorious millionaire 
 in the United States, he replied coolly, "Theodore Dodge." 
 
 " Well, for the love of gawd I" roared Grabbe in angry 
 astonishment, glaring at Standish. in speechless rage. 
 Then partially recovering himself, he managed to say, 
 "Confound it, Brown, I I don't quite understand this
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 397 
 
 deal. I was informed upon good authority that you and 
 Dodge were mortal enemies." 
 
 " Dodge has cut me up considerable in times past, Mr. 
 Grabbe, but we have patched up our differences, at least 
 in this matter, and stand together in Colorado Steel. 
 Kind of a home enterprise, you know," he added, with 
 sly significance. 
 
 The Paunch heaved silently for a few moments, and 
 then said: 
 
 "Brown, the price of Colorado Steel in the market to 
 day, is eighty-one. I will give you an even hundred for 
 all of your holdings and a bonus of ten thousand besides, 
 and give you a certified check for the whole amount this 
 very minute. Come, gol darn it. Come call it done, 
 now!" he added appealingly, "Just to let me hand this 
 man, Dodge, his trimmings, and put him down and out 
 for good." 
 
 " Mr. Grabbe," replied Standish sternly, " You can't 
 buy that stock for five hundred. It is, as I stated before, 
 pledged to Theodore Dodge." And for almost the first 
 time in his lurid career, the Paunch had come face to 
 face with a MORAL force. 
 
 Rising unsteadily from his chair as John Charles looked 
 in at the door, Grabbe slowly extended his fat, chubby 
 hand to the tall mine owner. 
 
 "Brown," he said slowly, his lips dripping from the 
 juice of the cigar stub which he was grinding ferociously 
 between his ponderous jaws, "I don't quite savy your 
 style. I never heard tell before of a man passing up 
 a nice clean profit as you did just now, just to keep your 
 word with a man who has fought you for nearly twenty 
 years. By gawd, sir, you're a brick, sir; and dam-fi-don't 
 admire you."
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 Why is it that so many men, some of whom are truly 
 great, give so little credence to a woman's advice? 
 
 In spite of his wife's /ojitive assurance, Theodore Dodge 
 considered himself ab,4nately defeated. Even now he 
 was planning the disposition of his affairs after he had 
 experienced the fatal coup de grace which John Wreckor 
 Grabbe would surely administer to him. 
 
 He had already passed the greatest crisis of his life, 
 when in his inability to accept anything but success he 
 had attempted suicide, and saved by his wife's timely 
 action, had learned the rudiments of failure and regained 
 his mental equilibrium ; yet, to this end, that the informa 
 tion which his wife had imparted to him with such posi 
 tive assurance, that Standish Brown would surely support 
 him in the. coming election, had scarcely impressed him. 
 He was absolutely void of faith in her statement. And 
 why? 
 
 Why was it that the Dauphin of France and his min 
 isters would not listen to Joan of Arc, but must delay 
 and quibble for days, and then yield only when the sol 
 diery loudly demanded the support of her claims? With 
 the glorious result France saved from the invader. 
 
 Why was it that Peter the Great of Russia and his 
 generals would not listen to the noble Swede girl, Cath 
 erine; but must parley for days with their forces com 
 pletely surrounded by the victorious Turks? Then her 
 advice was reluctantly followed after every other device 
 had failed. The result Peter, his army, and his gen 
 erals escaped capture, and he returning to Moscow made 
 his mighty empire greater than ever. 
 
 These are instances where the advice of women finally 
 prevailed thru sheer force of circumstances. 
 
 399
 
 400 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Calpurnia tried to save her husband from assassination 
 on the Ides of March. 
 
 The wife of Pilate tried to dissuade him from pro 
 nouncing the doom of the gentle Shepherd of Nazareth. 
 
 These are instances where woman discerned and im 
 plored, but man would not heed. 
 
 Mrs. Tabor washed clothes to provide a miner, whom 
 her husband had long since refused to continue to aid, 
 with a grub-stake. The result- 1 great bonanza struck, 
 and Tabor became rich. 
 
 Ah ! Woman. Thou art heavenly eyed and future dis 
 cerning, yet so oft denied by incredulous man. 
 
 There is one family of men, however, who treasure 
 the intuitive qualities of their women as they do their 
 very souls. 
 
 The Rothschilds, the Frankfort Jews. 
 
 For centuries it has -been their custom to have the oldest 
 surviving female member of the 'family pass upon the 
 final hearing of any important transaction. The result 
 the famous House of Rothschilds, the greatest and 
 most powerful financial institution in the world. 
 
 When infants, men are suckled by their mothers and 
 grow to childhood in the same unselfish care. Passing 
 into young manhood, it is from the mother they often 
 seek that guidance which frequently the father cannot 
 give. But when they become men, and wed. When 
 the wife replaces the mother, a man's council seems prone 
 to rest in himself. 
 
 It is the result of a delusive theory. 
 
 At wedlock he becomes the acknowledged head of the 
 house, later, perhaps, of a family. He is the wage-earner, 
 the bread-winner, the administrator. And all these re 
 sponsibilities but confirm his theory, viz.: as the head 
 of the family, he certainly should possess the brain force 
 to support it. He fully convinces himself that he has, and 
 grows firm in the absurd belief that all his acts are final. 
 Naturally, when he faces some sudden crisis in his affairs, 
 and cannot solve it alone, it is then to him wholly useless 
 to seek aid from his wife. Why? Because, does he not
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 401 
 
 possess all the brains? True, his wife may be ever so 
 clever, charming, yea actually intellectual; but when 
 it comes to deciding a matter which requires the ponderous 
 exercise of substantial gray matter, why, it is impossible 
 for his wife to act. It is absurd. 
 
 But usually, at just this very time, his wife readily 
 and easily opens the way by some swift, indefinable mental 
 action; then a man is forced to admit that he has dis 
 covered something new in her. He will hardly credit her 
 with brain power, however, nor that she really commend- 
 ably thought out a solution of the master problem. She 
 only happened to hit it. A mere accident, a freak cir 
 cumstance of thought. But if he only KNEW some 
 of the brightest men in the United States today are those 
 who have this quality of a woman's brain as a foundation 
 for their brilliancy. 
 
 In men this feminine quality is often called, for lack 
 of a better name TACT. And this, indeed, may be a 
 good name for it, but whatever it is, it is surely the deep 
 imprint of a mother's bright brain upon her son's. 
 
 How about Chauncey Depew? 
 
 Do you think he could marshal the Vanderbilts the way 
 he has without this peerless mental quality? Father 
 them, mother them, marry them, bury them. Make 
 matches for the daughters, and with equal facility find 
 mates for the sons. Have them kiss and make up their 
 quarrels, and in addition to this bewildering maze of 
 domestic responsibilities, incidentally conduct a love affair 
 of his own ; fill a high position with the New York Central 
 and Hudson River Railroad ; adorn the staid body of the 
 Senate of the United States with his presence as an active 
 member; and also furnish those inimitable jokes for 
 which he is famous. 
 
 Then John Hay. 
 
 This poet, historian. This great Secretary of State. 
 This personal friend of Abraham Lincoln, and able cab 
 inet man of the Roosevelt administration. This deliverer 
 of Pekin. This little man who opened up the Orient 
 thru the China gates.
 
 402 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 They say it's tact^with him. But it's only a vein of 
 the world's most precious intellect in him. A generous 
 slice of woman's intangible, intuitive mentality. 
 
 So Theodore looked upon his wife's statement as to 
 'Standish Brown's attitude in the coming election with 
 absolute incredulity. She would not tell him the source 
 of her information, but merely insisted it was true. But 
 to him it little mattered now. He was defeated, and had 
 lived thru it. This was his uppermost thought. Indeed, 
 he was almost happy with his mind free and rid of the 
 heaviness and despondency of the past few months. The 
 charming revelation of his wife's love and devotion in 
 the episode of his attempted suicide, had leavened the 
 loaf of his business cares and he was now his old self, 
 active, happy, and contented. He could go down to 
 defeat now and smile. In fact, he had successfully 
 passed the most acute crisis of his life. 
 
 When he arrived at his office the morning of the elec 
 tion, he hastily looked thru his mail. Yes, what he had 
 expected had at last arrived. Tearing open an envelope 
 bearing a Mexican post stamp, out dropped a proxy from 
 a stockholder of Colorado Steel, who resided in the City 
 of Mexico, giving him authority to vote a generous sized 
 block of stock. With this last proxy in his possession, 
 Theodore had his secretary give him the final total of 
 the stock he owned personally, and that which he was 
 authorized to vote by proxies. He did not know exactly 
 how much Grabbe controlled, but inasmuch as the Paunch 
 had announced to the representatives of the press that 
 he undoubtedly controlled the election, Dodge could only 
 assume that he had secured proxies for all the outstand 
 ing stock, except that which was controlled by himself, 
 and those shares listed on the stock register as be 
 longing to Standish Brown. 
 
 The amount of stock which Theodore could vote, added 
 to that which was listed to Standish Brown, made up a 
 total of a slight fraction more than fifty per cent. The
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 403 
 
 proxy just received from Mexico, had carried such a com 
 bination of holdings just over the line of control. 
 
 But did Brown possess all the stock with which he was 
 credited? If he had parted with any of it, Grabbe un 
 doubtedly controlled the election. Or, if Brown chose 
 to vote with Grabbe, or if he refused to vote at all, Dodge * 
 felt himself defeated in either case. In any event, the 
 balance of power laid with Brown, and try as he would 
 Dodge could not bring himself to believe the statement 
 of his wife to the effect that Brown intended to support 
 him, in view of the many good and sufficient reasons 
 which Brown had to even matters up with him for past 
 wrongs inflicted. 
 
 Hoping against hope, however, Theodore made a care* 
 ful mental note of the exact amount of Brown's holdings, 
 in the event that if he could by some means gage Brown's 
 disposition before the crucial moment, it would relieve 
 him greatly and assist him in rounding out a few im 
 portant matters which would probably develop from the 
 election.
 
 406 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 tered defiantly at the glaring, beady eyes of the Paunch, 
 and tho fully prepared for defeat, Theodore was almost 
 gay and reckless in his demeanor. The deadly warfare 
 of the past few months was now to culminate in one last 
 fierce battle. 
 
 Which would be the victor, the Genius or the Brute? 
 
 Grabbers eyes snapped with suppressed excitement and 
 uncertainty as the affair proceeded. It was so different 
 from a horse race or a poker game. This corporation 
 sport was weighted with too much red-tape to suit the 
 professional gambler. There was a monotonous uncer 
 tainty about this tedious election which maddened him. 
 
 Could he break the Colorado line? His force was 
 mighty. The bundle of proxies at his side, added to his 
 personal holdings, represented forty-nine and five-tenths 
 per cent of the entire issue of Colorado Steel. He re 
 quired fifty per cent to play even, and a fraction over to 
 win. Had Dodge been able to secure the balance of the 
 full issue of one hundred per cent? It seemed impossible 
 to him. "What a chump Brown was," he thought, 
 "missing the chance of a lifetime to get next to Dodge." 
 However, it was not Grabbe's fault if he was beaten in 
 this fight. He had scoured every portion of the country 
 for the stock of Colorado Steel. For some of it he had 
 paid grossly extravagant prices. But what matter if it 
 brought victory, he would boost it still higher and then 
 unload. 
 
 Again he thought, " Will the Colorado line hold?" He 
 could not tell by Dodge's countenance. He was smiling, 
 almost gay. He could not tell by the secretary's face, 
 as that individual had his back turned to him, and was 
 busy arranging the books for the final round; so the 
 Paunch fiercely chewed the stub of his cigar and grimly 
 awaited the issue. 
 
 As the stockholders' names were called out by the secre 
 tary's clerk in regular alphabetical order, he was answered, 
 either by Grabbe's secretary, or by Theodore Dodge in 
 person, according as their respective proxies or personal 
 holdings indicated. Then the amount of stock so voted
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 407 
 
 was checked off opposite the stockholder's name upon the 
 stock register by the secretary of the corporation, and 
 the proxy turned over to a committee of directors who had 
 been appointed, as required by the by-laws, to pass upon 
 the legality of the proxies. 
 
 The intensity of the battle grew rapidly as the calling 
 of the long list of names proceeded, and when Standish 
 Brown's name was called, there was no response from 
 either side. Theodore instantly took advantage of the 
 secretary's hesitation by announcing that Brown's stock 
 would be voted as soon as the proper proxy was made out. 
 It was a wild guess of his, but somehow it came to him 
 to instantly announce it, and as the officer of the court 
 made no objection, the election proceeded. 
 
 Presently one of the doorkeepers brought Theodore an 
 envelope addressed to him and marked "Immediate." 
 Opening it hastily, he found that it contained Brown's 
 proxy, authorizing him to vote the entire block of stock 
 for the best interests of Colorado Steel. Theodore could 
 scarcely believe his eyes. His adorable wife had told him 
 the truth. He was still master of Colorado Steel. 
 
 The Paunch noticed the incident, and tho his face 
 fell as he suspected the truth, he still had hopes. 
 
 At the close of the listing and voting, Theodore voted 
 Brown's stock and the books were declared closed. Shortly 
 afterward the secretary announced that every share of 
 the corporation's stock was represented and voted. The 
 committee on proxies reported that every proxy pre 
 sented was legally executed in accordance with the by 
 laws, and had, therefore, been properly voted. 
 
 The Colorado line had held, the battle was over. The 
 Wall -Street crowd had lost by a very slight margin the 
 control of the millions of dollars which was invested in 
 this great corporation. The issue had been decided by 
 a mere fraction of one per cent. 
 
 During the last few moments of the battle Theodore 
 had watched his opponent closely. Once he thought that 
 the Paunch would succumb to apoplexy, for the veins 
 in his bullet-like head grew dark and purple, and his tiny
 
 408 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 eyes glassy as the announcement of the proxy committee 
 was made. 
 
 The former directors were all re-elected, Grabbe, realiz 
 ing his hopeless defeat, voting for them. They in turn re- 
 elected the former general officers, including Theodore 
 Dodge as president. 
 
 It was then that Theodore did a very magnanimous 
 act, for as one of the doorkeepers, quite elated with the 
 result of the election, started to open the door to give 
 the news to the newspaper men outside, Theodore checked 
 him, and catching the eye of the secretary, he w r as given 
 the floor. After thanking the board for their courtesy in 
 re-electing him to his former position, he said further 
 more: 
 
 " Gentlemen, I move that a signed statement be given 
 the newspaper men waiting outside, to the following ef 
 fect: That the election of the board of directors and the 
 general officers of the Colorado Steel Corporation passed 
 off quietly. The old board of directors being re-elected, 
 also the old list of general officers. And from the fact 
 that both Mr. Grabbe and Mr. Dodge have a perfect un 
 derstanding in all affairs relative to the corporation and 
 are working in entire harmony for its welfare, rests a 
 complete refutation of the sensational reports which have 
 been given circulation in the press for the past few 
 months." 
 
 The motion was then seconded and carried, and the 
 secretary's stenographer passed the paper for signatures, 
 among them, John Wreckor Grabbe's. It was then hand 
 ed to the reporters outside, who quickly made copies of 
 it, then rushed off, as usual, to fashion and report the 
 affair to suit themselves, which, in this instance, they 
 told the facts much better than the officials of Colorado 
 Steel would admit. 
 
 When the Paunch left the general offices of the Col 
 orado Steel Corporation, and passed into the street to his 
 waiting cab, a little newsboy, seeing his huge, over-dressed 
 figure, suddenly darted forward, and thrusting his bundle 
 of papers into the millionaire's face, called out, " Extree
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 409 
 
 extree! All about the big steel fight. Colorado de 
 feats Wall Street. Paper, mister?" 
 
 Grabbe reached for a paper, shoved his hand in his 
 pocket, tossed the little fellow a dollar, and as the boy 
 endeavored to make change, he heard the cab door slam, 
 and looking up, saw the vehicle being driven rapidly 
 away. The little fellow closed his hands upon the dollar, 
 his eyes opened wide with wonder, and be the truth told, 
 there was a very happy expression on his little budding 
 face. But was it really pure, undiluted joy, or was it the 
 exulting leer of the growing spirit of Avarice? Who 
 knows? The face of a child beams innocence, but woe 
 unto him who gathers or scatters dollars heedlessly. 
 
 It is in this manner that the vulgar rich often spread 
 their corruption. Millions of humanity thru this heedless 
 spirit of the spoilers, pass their lives as lascivious demons 
 of Hell watching and itching for the lucre of gold. Mil 
 lions sitting in the dark caves of Mammon as fiercely and 
 bestial as lions, watching for their prey, soliciting, grab 
 bing up, and fighting in the filth of Sin for the moneyed 
 offal of the rich. 
 
 Wealth that is expended beyond the just price for serv 
 ice rendered, or for the honest price of an article, is a 
 vile and insidious corrupter; robbing the unwary recipient 
 of his self-dependence, his respect, his honor; and incul 
 cating in the young, the eternal reach and itch for lucre, 
 spoil, and "easy money" the terrible and fatal idolatry 
 of Mammon. 
 
 It is a historical fact, that even upon the tomb of the 
 infamous Tiberius, were laid chaplets of roses, the tribute 
 of those fawning sycophants who had shared his spoil. 
 And that spoil what? The spoil of the Roman world. 
 
 The natural inference is then, but not, God forbid, in 
 this instance of the innocent newsboy, that the bounty of 
 a millionaire, is often the acceptance of spoil. 
 
 What spoil? 
 
 That spoil, perhaps, which in your ignorance, he has 
 wrung from you. 
 
 Entering a Carnegie library is entering your own li-
 
 410 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 brary. Attending a Rockefeller college is attending your 
 own college. But with this marked difference the spoil 
 er's name is above the door not yours; or even one of 
 the millions of your brothers who has been forced to pay 
 tribute to the maw of the monster. 
 
 Thus Mammon today, as in the days of the Csesars, in 
 variably worships itself.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 In spite, however, of the positive signed statement of 
 the leading actors in the drama of Colorado Steel con 
 cerning the harmony of the election, the local newspapers 
 treated it as a great victory for Colorado and Theodore 
 Dodge. Scores of congratulatory telegrams were received 
 by the president of Colorado Steel, and he suddenly found 
 himself a figure of national repute, his praises being sung 
 with equal gusto in Chicago and New York, as well as 
 in Denver and Salt Lake City. He was given full credit 
 for having taken the measure of the Paunch. The days 
 of the notorious, "Bet-you-a-million," drummer in Col 
 orado Steel were over. The Colorado line had held, and 
 the steel magnates of the nation would have to wait at 
 least another year before they could annex this remaining 
 bit of Western enterprise. 
 
 At ten o'clock on the evening immediately following 
 the election, the private car of John Wreckor Grabbe 
 passed out of the Union Depot at Denver, bound for Chi 
 cago. It was attached to the regular Burlington No. 2, 
 and the next day at Lincoln, the Nebraska Capital, which 
 the special train of the Paunch had scorned so contemptu 
 ously on the outward trip, Grabbe was handed a telegram 
 from his New York broker, to the effect that Colorado 
 Steel had fallen ten points. The next morning in Chi 
 cago, Grabbe looked at the stock reports Colorado Steel 
 was still falling. When he reached Pittsburg, another 
 telegram from his brokers announced that it had dropped 
 several points more; and when the millionaire finally 
 reached New York, his once precious stock was being 
 slaughtered unmercifully, the inflation being completely 
 squeezed out of it. Thoroly disgusted with the whole deal, 
 he instructed his brokers to sell out at any price, and 
 taking the first boat for Southampton, the Paunch de- 
 
 411
 
 412 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 voted three months to foreign travel, returning to the 
 States in a much better humor, but to this day, his fol 
 lowers never allude to Colorado Steel in his presence. 
 
 John Wreckor Grabbe, the most vulgar millionaire in 
 the United States, like several of his kind, has attained 
 a lurid notoriety fame he never can attain. 
 
 Notoriety is drifting sand. 
 
 Fame, alone, is the mountain. 
 
 The Swiss never point to their money, but to their 
 Alps. 
 
 Fame endures. Notoriety fades. 
 
 Fame cannot be coaxed, persuaded, or corrupted. It 
 is an honor which seeks of its own free will, the deserving 
 individual. Notoriety can readily be bought by the vilest 
 courtesan. 
 
 Fame is a legitimist. 
 
 Notoriety is a fakir. 
 
 John Wreckor Grabbe has subscribed to several so- 
 called philanthropies. Among them, a school for boys. 
 
 Mockery! The most hardened gambler in existence 
 may give a dollar in the name of philanthropy to the 
 son of the man he has robbed, and receive a smile. Worse 
 weak, starving man with other mouths to feed, will 
 sometimes fall down and worship the hand that gives, 
 even tho he knows that same hand has robbed him in the 
 guise of business. The ethics of Starvation is Eat. 
 
 Bah! Philanthropy with men like John Wreckor 
 Grabbe, is a mere pastime. Just a part of the game of 
 lucre. Other millionaires subscribe to philanthropy, so 
 must he. It is merely one of the luxuries of the rich. 
 
 As with that monstrous paradox, John D. Rockefeller, 
 who apparently displays a sublime generosity in his ed 
 ucational efforts, and at the same time appears to exer 
 cise the cold cruelty of a devil-fish upon the unhappy vic 
 tims who stand in the way of his business enterprises, 
 John Wreckor Grabbe wrings dimes from his victims 
 for every penny he tosses into the street in the name of 
 philanthropy. 
 
 But John Wreckor Grabbe is merely the patent medi-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 413 
 
 cine generation behind John D. Rockefeller; and fortu 
 nately, too, the fair name of Christianity is not involved 
 in his case, as it is in the case of the oil king. 
 
 How strange it is that our richest man lays claim to 
 the faith and doctrines of Him who said, "that the foxes 
 have holes, and the birds of the air have nests, but the 
 Son of Man hath not where to lay his head." 
 
 Oh! Master, divine, explain this marvel to Thy chil 
 dren, or else command them in the light of truth to rise 
 up and condemn it. 
 
 Ohl John D. Rockefeller, how will you face intrepid 
 St. Peter? 
 
 A hard-shelled Baptist, dealing beggary to those who 
 do not accept his rule. 
 
 A man proclaiming himself to be a God-fearing, Chris 
 tian, boldly requesting members of the United States 
 Senate thru the medium of a pernicious lobby, to ignore 
 their constituents, and vote in the interests of an in 
 famous corporation. 
 
 This leprous politician voting a herd of innocent Ital 
 ians in furthering his vast land acquisitions; Instructing 
 them not only to vote as he desires, but furnishing them 
 with marked sample ballots that they might make no 
 mistake. Ah! Citizens of the Great Republic, this 1903 
 election of North Tarrytown is an incident to ponder over. 
 Epochs have begun with incidents less important than this. 
 Plutocracy is lifting its head dangerously. But there is 
 still faith as an anchor to windward. 
 
 The United States is experiencing a reign of insidious 
 corrupting Rockefellerism, quite similar to Florence, with 
 her Medicis ; but fear not, good citizens, these Rockefeller 
 creatures will pass into the yawning Egyptian night and 
 the great stars will still shine serenely on. 
 
 The history of Florence will never be repeated in this 
 country. But it was written for the benefit of future gen 
 erations our generation. The people of that age lived 
 and died in martyrdom for us. Three hundred years of 
 blood, gold, and steel; fire, faggot, and poison, subscribe 
 themselves to our understanding ,
 
 414 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 The history of unhappy Florence was decreed by the 
 great God of the universe to be done up in a book, that 
 every American schoolboy might read and be wise. 
 
 Imagine a .Standard Oil Pope ! 
 
 A billionaire Peter 1 1 
 
 A copper Christ!!! 
 
 Bah! This base Rockefeller strata of our social and 
 religious edifice is a mere deposit of chalk, which future 
 ages of men will exhume to crayon paeans of joy, that 
 man has forgotten lucre and has espoused spirit. 
 
 Rockefeller Christianity is Beelzebub parading in the 
 garb of Business. Business is the war of dollars, and 
 war is hell. 
 
 Men have undertaken great tasks in various epochs 
 of the world's history, but none have ever faced a greater 
 one or been more cruelly handicapped by the errors and 
 weaknesses of a misguided parent, than the younger 
 Rockefeller, in explaining to his Sunday-school, the tenets 
 of this false Rockefelleran Christianity^ This treading the 
 prostrate forms of despairing humanity from sheer cor 
 pulence of enormous acquisition, and yet aspiring to 
 sainthood as a philanthropist. 
 
 A colossus treading the earth, so lost in the affairs of 
 his kingdom that he knows not upon what ne is stepping. 
 A giant, stumbling thru a forest in the night, ruthlessly 
 and ignorantly tramping down ant-hills and spider-webs 
 of humanity. A vast and unnatural MAGNIFICATION. 
 A monstrosity grown so great in the web of his creations, 
 that the prayers and entreaties of his creatures do not 
 reach him. A tower of Babel, its head lost in the clouds 
 and unseen of those suffering calamity at its feet. When 
 a man has grown so great and far removed from his fel 
 lows, that he becomes syndicated and corporationed ; that 
 man has lost his species, his manhood, becoming a terrify 
 ing hybrid over which the grave will close in eloquent and 
 fearsome silence. 
 
 Around Rockefeller, the elder, the world should draw 
 the curtain of simple charity; but let us sit down with 
 the younger in the shadow of his mountain and bid him
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 415 
 
 cheer. There is no more appalling spectacle in Tiuman 
 events, than beholding the feeble struggles of an innocent 
 infant enmeshed in the fatal toils of an unnatural father. 
 
 If it were not that Rockefeller, the younger, had just 
 claim to the sympathy and goodwill of the American peo 
 ple in the stewardship of his inherited millions, they 
 might with good reason, in this matter of the Sunday- 
 school, declare him the billionaire Roscius. 
 
 It was St. John the Divine who bade us beware of the 
 mark of the Beast, and the mark of the Beast today, is 
 the gold of the Beast in the hands of its slaves. 
 
 How much more then is he to be feared and rebuked, 
 who, professing in the broad light of day the sacred doc 
 trines of Jesus Christ the poorest and most unselfish 
 man of history yet at night retires to his caves of spoil 
 to gloat amid his glut of gold? 
 
 As a mere man, the elder Rockefeller would only be 
 a pagan, a modern Croasus, moving to compassion phil 
 osophers and sages ; but as one professing Christianity, his 
 practice is, one of most despicable hypocrisy. If his ex 
 ample is followed by the church at large, it will mark its 
 decline and fall. 
 
 Rockefellerism is modern ANTICHRIST!!!
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Several weeks after the ignominious flight of John 
 Wreckor Grabbe from Colorado, an event occurred which 
 set the mountain metropolis all agog. It was the in 
 augural of the newly-elected Governor, James H. Pea- 
 body. 
 
 After having been hopelessly defeated for the past 
 eight years, the Republican party had succeeded in once 
 more electing a governor. 
 
 E. A. Wolcott, the Republican bar'l man of the cam 
 paign, had told his friends after the successful election in 
 November, that when the new governor was inaugurated 
 the thirteenth of January, 1903, the G. 0. P. would 
 "make Rome howl." And now that the auspicious oc 
 casion was really here, the sturdy bar'l man was certainly 
 making good. 
 
 The city was gaily decorated. From Fort Logan, 
 the United States military post on the outskirts of the 
 city, came a troop of the Fourteenth Cavalry and several 
 companies of the Eighteenth Infantry, escorting the 
 commander of the Department of the Colorado, General 
 Frederick Funston, and his brilliant staff. The doughty 
 Kansan, hero of Calumpit, and capturer of Aguinaldo, 
 was resplendent in gold-braid, and looked every inch a 
 soldier as he headed the brave column of troops which 
 had fought at San Juan and Manila, and had also as 
 sisted at the storming of Pekin. 
 
 Following these veterans were companies of the State 
 Militia; trim and natty cadets from the Agricultural Col 
 lege at Fort Collins, a battery of light artillery, several 
 brass bands and drum corps; a large procession of car 
 riages, and numerous columns of brilliantly-uniformed 
 fraternal bodies. At the head of the civic and legislative 
 bodies, was a handsome carriage, drawn by four beauti- 
 
 417
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Several weeks after the ignominious flight of John 
 Wreckor Grabbe from Colorado, an event occurred which 
 set the mountain metropolis all agog. It was the in 
 augural of the newly-elected Governor, James H. Pea- 
 body. 
 
 After having been hopelessly defeated for the past 
 eight years, the Republican party had succeeded in once 
 more electing a governor. 
 
 E. A. Wolcott, the Republican bar'l man of the cam 
 paign, had told his friends after the successful election in 
 November, that when the new governor was inaugurated 
 the thirteenth of January, 1903, the G. 0. P. would 
 "make Rome howl." And now that the auspicious oc 
 casion was really here, the sturdy bar'l man was certainly 
 making good. 
 
 The city" was gaily decorated. From Fort Logan, 
 the United States military post on the outskirts of the 
 city, came a troop of the Fourteenth Cavalry and several 
 companies of the Eighteenth Infantry, escorting the 
 commander of the Department of the Colorado, General 
 Frederick Funston, and his brilliant staff. The doughty 
 Kansan, hero of Calumpit, and capturer of Aguinaldo, 
 was resplendent in gold-braid, and looked every inch a 
 soldier as he headed the brave column of troops which 
 had fought at San Juan and Manila, and had also as 
 sisted at the storming of Pekin. 
 
 Following these veterans were companies of the State 
 Militia; trim and natty cadets from the Agricultural Col 
 lege at Fort Collins, a battery of light artillery, several 
 brass bands and drum corps; a large procession of car 
 riages, and numerous columns of brilliantly-uniformed 
 fraternal bodies. At the head of the civic and legislative 
 bodies, was a handsome carriage, drawn by four beauti- 
 
 417
 
 418 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ful white horses, which contained both the incoming and 
 outgoing governors. 
 
 After the parade, the usual ceremonies, the speech- 
 making, oath-taking, and inaugural address, were duly 
 performed on the capitol steps by the new governor and 
 his associates; and society prepared itself for the great 
 ball, which was to be held in the capitol building that 
 same evening. For days the committee in charge had 
 been busily decorating the interior of that vast pile of 
 Gunnison granite, which cost the State of Colorado mil 
 lions of dollars, and which towers majestically from the 
 summit of a handsome hill, rising in graceful slopes 
 above the valley of the Cherry. 
 
 Tonight's function was to be all the more notable as 
 it was the house-warming of the new capitol, recently 
 completed, and the people of the state were eager to in 
 spect it. Thousands of invitations had been issued. Party 
 lines had been completely ignored. Democrats, Populists, 
 Socialists, and other party followers were as eager to at 
 tend as were the jubilant Republicans. The weather was 
 perfect. The stars shone brightly in the pure, clean 
 atmosphere of a mile above sea-level; in the misty East 
 the moon rose bright and full, shedding its mellow lustre 
 over the Great Plains ; and its glittering beams were softly 
 reflected from the summits of the Snowy Range towering 
 ghostly in the West. 
 
 At eight o'clock the electrician turned on the myriads 
 of lights which illuminated the exterior of the capitol, 
 and the great dome suddenly sprang into exquisite fire 
 lines of the national colors, red, white, and blue; while 
 the outlines of the massive main structure shone far be 
 low in continuous rows of brilliant incandescents. The 
 great building from its commanding eminence was visible 
 for many miles, and was illuminated that the good citizens 
 of Denver and the suburbs might know the ball was on. 
 
 By 8:30 the guests were arriving in throngs, and 
 scores of carriages and motors were discharging their 
 splendidly-gowned occupants at the Grant Avenue en 
 trance. Many of the elite of the state were on the recep-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 419 
 
 tion committee, and by nine o'clock the brilliantly-lighted 
 interior of the capitol was filled to overflowing with beau 
 tiful, tastefully-gowned women and well-groomed men. 
 
 In the rotunda, at the head of the magnificent bronze 
 arid marble grand staircase, was a huge portrait of Presi 
 dent Roosevelt, gracefully draped with bright folds of 
 the national colors, the strenuous Teddy having made 
 himself quite popular in Colorado of late thru his vigor 
 ous efforts in behalf of irrigation, which is a pet subject 
 with the people of the Inter-mountain region. 
 
 An orchestra played in the great hall where the gov 
 ernor and his wife held their reception, and several bands 
 discoursed dance and promenade music for the thousands 
 who thronged the corridors. 
 
 Our reportorial friend, Phoebe Prim, was there, dressed 
 tastefully for the occasion; her brilliant turquoise eyes 
 fairly dancing as she jotted down interesting notes for 
 publication in the morrow's " Press." Many of her squibs 
 would be without meaning to readers of the " Press" in 
 general, but to the parties for whom intended, the mysteri 
 ous lines would be ripe with the humor of some interest 
 ing event known only to them, Phoebe, and a select few. 
 Several ex-governors, senators, and political leaders would 
 chuckle to themselves and tug their beards meaningly 
 when they read the sly insinuating articles; and the 
 Capitol Hill grand dames and buds would look eagerly 
 for Phoebe's gossipy notes on dress and other personalities. 
 
 The Republican bar'l man, ex-Senator Wolcott, was 
 making good use of the occasion in whipping into line 
 certain recalcitrant members of the legislature to his sup 
 port in the coming senatorial contest, in which he hoped 
 to again be returned to the United States senate. He was 
 a noble fellow, an indomitable fighter, and he had fur 
 nished most of the funds to carry on the recent campaign. 
 He was doomed to defeat, however, having incurred the 
 unrelenting hostility of united Democracy, the old silver 
 Republicans; and also hopelessly alienated the affections 
 of a considerable number of the Republicans themselves. 
 He had done much for Colorado in the early history
 
 420 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of the state, but his record on the silver question had 
 been bitterly attacked, and somehow during the years 
 of Colorado's loyal, almost fanatical fight for silver, his 
 staunch Republicanism had been misinterpreted, he was 
 looked upon as a menace to the popular cause, and he 
 had fallen under the ban of the people's displeasure. 
 
 The members of the legislature attended the ball en- 
 masse. 
 
 Interesting fellows, these Colorado solons. Some of them 
 tall mountaineers, smoking cigars almost in proportion. 
 Many of them wore full beards, some of them tipped with 
 hair as white as the snows of the peaks which shut in the 
 districts these fellows represented. Here were prosperous 
 farmers from the agricultural districts of the Western 
 Slope, and smart, dandified members from the Cripple 
 Creek and Leadville districts, wearing huge specimens of 
 native gold, mounted on pins and thrust jauntily in their 
 cravats. 
 
 Very interesting, too, were the members from the 
 Spanish counties on the New Mexican line. They were 
 actually called "the Spaniards" by their fellow solons; 
 Sefior Celestino Garcia, if you please, and Sancho Al- 
 phonso Barecia. As they pulled their long, grizzled mus- 
 tachios, one naturally recalled the famous gold-seeking 
 Coronado, who, in company with his companions, were 
 perhaps the first white men who ever visited Colorado; 
 and the bones of many of whom are buried somewhere in 
 the remorseless red deserts of Arizona and New Mexico. 
 Tho having lost their lives in the mad search for gold, 
 yet many of their names are preserved in the land which 
 holds their dust. 
 
 Many cattlemen from the north tier of counties on the 
 Wyoming line were here. Withy, sunburned, with legs 
 cruelly bowed from years of bending under the mustang's 
 belly; and whose cattle still grc,ze upon the rich pastures 
 pf North Park and the wind-swept ranges of the Medicine 
 Bow. 
 
 Several of the members of the Great Plains counties in 
 Eastern Colorado made up an unsophisticated, rusty,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 421 
 
 frowsy-looking bunch. Brown, human prairie-dogs, with 
 tiny blinking owl eyes and shambling awkward gait; 
 their whole physiognomy and attitude, readily depicting 
 their bleak and lonely life submerged in the fearful dust 
 storms of the cow range which blow so pitilessly upon 
 their unprotected sod houses and dugouts sunk deep in 
 the tawny wastes of the arid and unwatered landscape. 
 Government irrigation is soon to reach out to them, and 
 the sons of these same rusty plainsmen will some day 
 probably vie with the more prosperous members from 
 the irrigated districts. 
 
 Sleek, well-dressed city members from Colorado Springs, 
 Pueblo, and the capital city of Denver, were also here, 
 scarcely to be distinguished from the stylishly-dressed 
 "down-easters" from Chicago and Gotham, who were 
 curious observers from the neighboring hotels. 
 
 Both members of the national senate from Colorado 
 were in attendance. One, the venerable white-bearded 
 senior, who was smiling affably to the hundreds who 
 swarmed about him, wishing him success in the coming 
 senatorial "contest from which he was destined to emerge 
 a victor. The other, the earnest-visaged junior, who was 
 working like a beaver among the members of the legis 
 lature in the interests of his colleague. 
 
 John Charles Rose, tho almost completely ostracized by 
 the brilliant throng, was also in attendance to present 
 his congratulations to the new governor. He was much 
 occupied these days in fighting a measure known as "the 
 Rush bill," which had been adopted by the people at the 
 previous election in November. He had declared it an 
 obnoxious measure to the great corporations which he 
 represented, and had proceeded to attack the measure in 
 the state courts. The press was loud in his denunciation, 
 but with characteristic indifference he had fought the 
 popular measure boldly and unscrupulously, believing 
 that every move he made in the affair would strengthen 
 him in the eyes of the corporations he served. 
 
 Among the bevy of charming women who surrounded 
 the gubernatorial party was Mrs. Theodore Dodge. She
 
 422 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and the Governor's wife were old friends, and Mollie 
 was very happy in Mrs. Peabody's newly acquired honor 
 as the first lady of the state. As she and her friends 
 were chatting gayly under a great chandelier draped with 
 smilax and roses, Mollie saw approaching the Governor, 
 Standish Brown and his tiny Italian wife, Fiorina. 
 
 Standish was attired in a full dress suit, and as he was 
 one of the pillars of the Republican party in Denver, 
 Mollie could see the Governor waiting impatiently to 
 grasp his hand. Fiorina's gown was a handsome creation 
 of white satin and lace, over which was thrown an opera 
 coat of bright scarlet trimmed with ermine. One beauti 
 ful American beauty was thrust into the depths of her 
 shining dark hair; and her eyes brightly radiant at the 
 sight of the gay throng about her, rested fondly upon her 
 husband from time to time, and she clasped his arm 
 closely as if she were half afraid. 
 
 The Browns had long been looked upon with great 
 curiosity by the smart set on the Hill. They had never 
 attended any of the numerous social functions to which 
 they had been invited, neither had they troubled them 
 selves to send their regrets. Therefore they had been 
 declared barbarous and uncivilized by Hill society, yet 
 this same brutal impolite reserve had only accentuated 
 the curiosity of the Hill crowd; especially as Standish 
 had been seen very much of late in the company of David 
 Moore, the burgomaster of Colorado finance; and also 
 from the additional fact, that certain newspapers had 
 lately declared that Brown had saved the day in Colorado 
 Steel. These and other minor incidents had given the 
 Browns a certain prestige in Denver, almost powerful 
 enough to overcome to a degree that ridicule and dis 
 paraging comment which most of the Hill folks believed 
 just and proper. 
 
 Ever since the battle of Colorado Steel, Mrs. Dodge 
 had watched for a chance to meet the Browns. Theodore 
 had questioned his wife very closely as to the secret of 
 the loyal support of Brown in the steel fight, but without 
 eliciting any further information, than that a certain
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 423 
 
 party had told her of Brown's expected assistance. She 
 never mentioned her former sweetheart relations with 
 Standish, and Theodore remained ignorant of such an 
 influence. He could scarcely reconcile her statements, 
 but such was his joy and extreme good nature in the flush 
 of victory, that the question was soon dismissed from his 
 mind. 
 
 As the Browns drew nearer the gubernatorial party, 
 bringing up the rear of a long line of homage payers, 
 Mollie excused herself from the ladies and sought her 
 husband in one of the nearby rooms assigned to the gen 
 tlemen for smoking. She found him chatting with a 
 party of Republican braves, and plucking him by the 
 arm, she drew him from the smoke blowing council and 
 informed him of the near presence of the Standish 
 Browns. As privileged guests they had no difficulty in 
 getting near the Governor and his wife, and Theodore 
 managed to whisper his desire for an introduction in 
 the Governor's ear. 
 
 The Browns were almost the last persons to pay their 
 respects to the Governor and his wife, the great throng 
 which had arrived earlier in the evening having done 
 those honors, and were now in the main corridors either 
 whirling in the mazes of the dance, looking on in absorbed 
 interest at the brilliant company and reveling in the 
 enjoyment of the enchanting music, or had descended 
 to the basement where refreshments were being served. 
 
 As Standish extended his hand, the Governor and his 
 wife, followed by Theodore, stepped down from the 
 slightly raised reception stand, and grasping the tall 
 mine owner's hand heartily, the Governor said quite 
 informally : 
 
 "Standish, I am more than delighted at this visit 
 and how is this little Dago wife of yours?" he added, 
 glancing down merrily at Fiorina. The Browns and the 
 Peabodys had known each other for a long time, and 
 Jim Peabody was one of the few men in whom the timid 
 Fiorina condescended to be interested. 
 
 "Ah! Meester Peabody!" she exclaimed, "Zee new
 
 424 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Gofenor of Colorado. I 'gratulate you. Oh! Zee beeg 
 noise 'bout you today. It wake my leettle Petro out of 
 zee nap," she continued, gesticulating rapidly in her 
 quick impetuous manner, as she referred to the salutes 
 to the Governor fired by the light artillery from the 
 capitol campus late that forenoon; then observing Mrs. 
 Peabody she stepped forward and was soon engaged in an 
 animated conversation during which she was introduced 
 to Mrs. Theodore Dodge. 
 
 "Standish," said the Governor, "I have a friend here 
 whom I would like to have you meet." And as Theodore 
 stepped forward, the Governor added, "Mr. Brown, Mr. 
 Dodge. Mr. Dodge, Mr. Brown." 
 
 Standish drew himself up rather stiffly and gazed 
 almost questioningly, first into the smiling face of Jim 
 Peabody and then into the refined, serious countenance 
 of Theodore Dodge. Then he slowly extended his hand 
 which Theodore grasped warmly, almost enthusiastically. 
 
 "Mr. Dodge," said Standish, "I am pleased to meet 
 you." At which the Governor, delighted that there was 
 no gun play, turned gayly toward the ladies, but seeing 
 them quite happily engaged, he sought the nearby smok 
 ing room for a quiet pull at the fragrant weed and a chat 
 among the Republican stalwarts. 
 
 After a commonplace exchange of remarks between 
 Standish and Theodore, the President of Colorado Steel 
 said earnestly: 
 
 "Mr. Brown, I don't know how I can ever repay you 
 for your magnanimous action in the Steel fight last 
 December. And I am free to confess to you, that it was 
 your timely support that saved me from a crushing- 
 defeat. It has always been a mystery to me as to how 
 you could have acted so generously toward me, a man 
 Avho has, unfortunately, been on the opposite side of many 
 of your affairs in Colorado. By Jove, Brown, as I think 
 about it, it was downright noble of you. Believe me, I 
 shall never forget it, and it will be my constant endeavor 
 as the years roll by to treat you as royally as you did me." 
 
 Standish looked calmly down into the magnetic brown
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 425 
 
 eyes of the dapper, neatly dressed, but serious voiced 
 speaker, and tho he did not feel much like talking upon 
 the subject, the encounter having come upon him so 
 suddenly, yet he managed to reply graciously : 
 
 "I'm glad you feel warmly toward me, Mr. Dodge. I 
 sincerely hope my purpose was high in assisting you in 
 Colorado Steel, and I am glad to know that you retain 
 control of the corporation, and that our steel industry has 
 not yet gone the way of our smelters, into the control of 
 Eastern capital." 
 
 After a short pause, Standish spoke again. 
 
 " I have added considerably to my holdings in Colorado 
 Steel since Grabbe went East, taking advantage of the 
 heavy slump, and enough I think, Mr. Dodge, to entitle 
 me to a place on the board of directors. If you ever see 
 your way clear to afford me this I will greatly appreciate 
 the favor. Do you know, Mr. Dodge, I get more inter 
 ested in local affairs every day, and it has always seemed 
 to me that if a few of us got together, we could do much 
 for the old Silver State as well as taking care of our 
 Eastern friends in good shape. I confess I've been slow 
 to learn it, but it certainly does broaden a man to be a 
 good mixer. It makes the world small and the race big." 
 
 " You shall certainly have that directorship at the next 
 election, Mr. Brown," replied Theodore with characteris 
 tic promptness, "Nothing would give me greater pleasure, 
 and also it is interesting to learn your opinions upon the 
 possibilities of the growth of our Colorado enterprises. 
 My recent experience in Colorado Steel has convinced 
 me that it is useless to buck Eastern capital, and hence 
 forth I shall extend the glad hand to every one. As you 
 have just intimated, the mutual interests of humanity 
 the world over, are too important for any one to shut the 
 door in his neighbor's face. "Won't you come over and 
 have a smoke?" he added cordially. 
 
 " No, thanks, Dodge, I don't smoke," Standish replied. 
 
 Just then Mrs. Dodge came over to them. 
 
 " Ah ! Mr. Brown, my wife " said Theodore, start 
 ing to introduce them.
 
 426 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 "No no, Theo," she interrupted, "Mr. Brown and I 
 are old friends." And just touching with her daintily 
 gloved fingers Standish's extended hand, she bowed low. 
 As she did so, Theodore felt intuitively, that his jewel 
 of a wife had trifled with him a little, in withholding 
 from him the secret of Standish Brown's support of him 
 in Colorado Steel,
 
 BOOK FOUR 
 
 THE LINE OF THE ROCKIES 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE circumstances thru which Standish Brown first 
 met David Moore were rather peculiar. For altho 
 Standish had long been interested in National First 
 both as a stockholder and a heavy depositor, yet he had 
 never met its famous president until 1902. With plain 
 Horace Nichols, the brusque, blunt-spoken cashier, he had 
 long enjoyed an intimate acquaintance, but he had never 
 up to the above stated time penetrated the secluded private 
 office of Colorado's greatest financier. 
 
 When David Moore affixed his signature to the deed 
 whereby the ownership of several lots in the Mountain 
 View addition to Capitol Hill were formally transferred 
 to the tall mine-owner, he chuckled good-humoredly to 
 himself, and prepared to sit a couple of hours each day 
 in the cozy sun-parlor which overlooked the tract. 
 
 This sun-parlor was David's chief delight. It was built 
 of plate-glass and bronze, and immediately adjoined the 
 rambling brick house of the banker which was built half 
 way up the brow of Capitol Hill, commanding a partial 
 view of the mountains. Stepping into the sun-parlor 
 from the library, the songs of tuneful canaries greeted 
 one's ears coming from several bright gilt cages suspended 
 from the glass roof, and which were half hidden by the 
 green foliage of several immense palms and ferns growing 
 luxuriously in rare vases and jardineres. In the center 
 of the retreat a fountain played in a neat divan furnished 
 court. Its sparkling blue jet spurting some three or four 
 feet into the air and falling with a soft musical murmur 
 
 427
 
 428 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 into a large marble basin, in which a dozen or more gold 
 fish flitted and nosed among several diminutive artificial 
 caverns and burnt clay models of antique German castles 
 tucked away among quantities of aquatic plants and 
 mossy stones. 
 
 On one side of this court shaded by a huge palm and 
 facing the fountain, was a handsome Italian marble bust 
 of Sappho, placed upon a highly polished pedestal of 
 ebony trimmed with gold. The fair Greek was glancing 
 downward at the play of the fountain, as if musing at 
 its joyous cadence. Upon the broad window ledges of 
 this frost-defying bower were numerous pots of blooming 
 flowers; carnations, lilies, tulips, geraniums, roses, hya 
 cinths, etc. The retreat was paved with soft yellow tiles, 
 with rare oriental rugs spread before the numerous wicker 
 rockers and divans with which the place was furnished. 
 
 Upon the wall of the house side of the sun-parlor hung 
 two magnificent oil-paintings. The subject of one was 
 "The English Oak," painted by a French artist of the 
 Eighteenth century; some Bourbon exile perhaps, so 
 journing in London while awaiting the establishment of 
 the ancien regime. In the foreground of this painting 
 a great grove of handsome oaks was painted in with 
 wonderful skill, while above the trees was a vista of bright 
 blue sky upon which floated a fleecy white cloud and 
 across which a flock of pigeons were flying. In the middle 
 distance was a typical English farmhouse, a slight smoke 
 arising from the red brick chimney and losing itself 
 among the tree-tops. A family of fowls was busily 
 scratching in the white fenced barnyard, and the family 
 washing of various colors was strung on the clothes-line. 
 In the far distance a glint of sunshine penetrated the 
 green depths of the grove, shimmering beautifully down 
 among the ferns of the thick moss-carpeted forest floor 
 and producing a superb light effect. This painting cost 
 David several thousand and was considered by connois 
 seurs as a marvel of technical skill. 
 
 The other painting was a study of Pike's Peak during 
 a thunderstorm. The cloud effect was sublime, the heavy
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 429 
 
 indigo-tinted fleeces rolling and tumbling in angry masses 
 half way up the huge mountain, and darting their livid 
 lightnings at the calm majestic snow-crowned summit 
 far above. 
 
 Hanging there, one to the right, the other to the left 
 of the parlor entrance as one passed into the main portion 
 of the house, the contrast was remarkable and pleasing 
 to the eye. The one, a peaceful landscape of rural Eng 
 land; the other, revealing the angry elements in awe- 
 inspiring action; a thunderstorm wrestling in deadly 
 grapple with a towering mountain of granite and snow. 
 
 Gradually as Standish's house took form under the 
 hand of the builders, David noted, with great satisfaction, 
 the low clinging architecture of old Spain; also the ar 
 rangement of the grounds, the terraces and general effect, 
 the good taste shown in planting trees, shrubs, etc., 
 pleased him very much. 
 
 But of greater interest was his eagerness and anxiety 
 to see the family itself. Finally, when the mansion was 
 completed and furnished, a carriage drove up to the new 
 home one day, and David caught sight of a dainty little 
 woman, a tiny boy dressed in blue, and the bent figure 
 and snowy locks of an old man, all in tow of Standish 
 Brown. 
 
 David peered at them delightedly from behind the 
 shades of his bird-caroling fountain-playing bower, and 
 thereafter to watch the Brown mansion and its interesting 
 household was a daily event in his life. 
 
 David Moore could take up a business proposition and 
 detect in an instant the defect, the hidden motive, or to 
 use the sport's clear-cut term, "the graft." Such stuff 
 he invariably tossed back to the promoter as the huckster 
 rejects the mutilated or counterfeit coin. If on the other 
 hand the proposition was promising and free from graft, 
 the kindly-eyed banker would point out the existing flaws 
 and defects, and readily suggest remedies which would 
 place the proposition upon sure and substantial ground 
 and make it available for investment. When a loan 
 came under his eagle eye, a mere glance sufficed to detect
 
 430 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 its character, and so perfect had become his financial in 
 stinct, that he would almost instantly grasp the full im 
 port of all paper which passed thru his hands, and terrible 
 indeed was he to the party who dared present for his 
 consideration any other than bona fide gilt-edge collateral. 
 
 No one knew the full extent of his great wealth, other 
 than that his operations and interests were almost nation 
 wide. He owned a railroad in New Jersey and carried 
 large blocks of stock of nearly all the Western railroads. 
 He owned real estate from San Diego to Boston. He 
 knew personally the Rothschilds of London, Paris, and 
 Berlin; and was upon terms of intimate acquaintance 
 with the heads of nearly all the great banking houses of 
 the country. The financial institutions of Colorado dur 
 ing the panic of '93, had crept under his wing as closely 
 as newly hatched chicks seek the downy protection of 
 their mother; and as far as matters of acquisition were 
 concerned, this celebrated Westerner possessed the ac 
 cumulative instinct to acquire and administer to a whole 
 world. The irrevocable limits of man's years, God's short 
 allotment, alone could check his acquisitive powers, and 
 too, only one of God's most innocent creatures could win 
 his love. 
 
 When it came to children, David Moore had a heart 
 as big as the great rolling world. In the child he beheld 
 pure, pristine, sparkling innocence. No craft, no guile. 
 The child being the one human quality which flowed 
 into the old banker's heart unquestioned. For in spite 
 of his naturally optimistic disposition, the three score 
 and odd years of his broad experience with all classes of 
 people, had put upon his personality the cloak of doubt. 
 
 But the CHILD! 
 
 There was no doubt in his love for the child. 
 
 "Suffer little children to come unto me, for of such 
 is the kingdom of heaven." 
 
 Little Peter at this time, a strong, healthy child con 
 siderably over two years old, would play by the hour 
 upon the green terraced lawn, pulling his little cart
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 431 
 
 about or tossing his ball in the bright autumn sunshine; 
 at the sight of which the solitary old banker widower 
 lived over once more the boyhood of his own little son, 
 Harry, who when five years old, was laid beside the 
 mother in Riverside Cemetery near the gentle ripple of 
 the Platte. 
 
 One day the old man in his loneliness sought closer 
 fellowship with the child and walking slyly to the brick 
 wall which separated the two properties, he dropped an 
 orange into the yard beyond thru the pickets of the iron 
 fence surmounting the wall. 
 
 An hour or more passed before the child found it, but 
 when its eyes did finally spy the golden fruit lying close 
 beside the wall, it seized it with such a cry of delight that 
 old Davy will never forget that moment That pure, 
 joyous, child cry of wonderment brought tears to the eyes 
 of the lonely old man. 
 
 Little Peter tossed his wonderful find in the air awhile, 
 and when weary from play, he sat upon the steps of the 
 side porch .in plain view of uncle Davy and began to 
 eat it, his mouth puckering tightly from the slight tart 
 ness of the fruit; then uncle Davy laughed to himself 
 as he thought how the mother would scold when she 
 discovered the stains made by the juice upon the child's 
 white collar and neat suit. 
 
 For several days after this incident, rain or sunshine, 
 uncle Davy would drop some sweetmeat in exactly the 
 same spot as he had dropped the orange; and returning 
 stealthily to his lair would laugh in rich anticipation, and 
 patiently wait until little Peter made for his magically 
 replenished larder beside the garden wall. 
 
 Uncle Davy had serious arguments with himself about 
 giving the child candy, but occasionally he would allow 
 a bit of it, after gravely consulting with the confectioner 
 as to the purity and harmlessness of such and such a 
 bon-bon or chocolate. 
 
 In two weeks time the child was so imbued with abso 
 lute faith in this fairy storehouse, that as soon as he shut 
 the house door he would rush down the porch steps as
 
 432 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 fast as his chubby legs would allow, and would soon 
 emerge upon the lawn dancing and eating to David's 
 great delight. Thus for weeks the birds caroled their 
 happy songs in their golden cages, the flowers tossed out 
 their fragrance, the fountain played its soft music in the 
 .ear of the dreaming Sappho; combining to delight and 
 comfort the lonely old banker who sat in his easy chair 
 contentedly smoking, his great heart throbbing and 
 vibrating in the artless joyousness of the happy innocent 
 child. 
 
 But such perfect peace and absolute joy was not to 
 last very long. For one day the child came down the 
 porch steps pulling eagerly at the hand of his father. 
 The child, ever generous as children usually are, intended 
 to share his secret with his father. 
 
 Together they visited the place beside the wall, and 
 the child triumphantly held up a large red cheeked 
 apple. Wonderful ! Was it not, papa Brown ? 
 
 Uncle Davy witnessed the affair and his heart trembled 
 with apprehension. It meant discovery. It meant inno 
 cence replaced by reason. An Eve-like curiosity would 
 soon devour his love-apple. He would be ever so sly now. 
 But no, he would not destroy the child's perfect faith 
 even if he were discovered. So one fatal day as he 
 dropped a sack of pop-corn over the wall and started slyly 
 back to his retreat, he was startled by the noise of a win 
 dow suddenly thrust up in the Spanish house, and a 
 genial voice saying, "Caught at last, you sly old rogue." 
 
 They talked across the garden wall, the lonely old 
 widower and the happy father, and it was in this manner 
 that <Standish Brown first met David Moore. 
 
 Within a month the brick wall between the two proper 
 ties was pierced by a neat iron gate, and almost every 
 day thereafter, a little lad passing thru would rush croon 
 ing and laughing into the snug retreat of Uncle Davy's 
 arms. 
 
 One day the child knocked over a large Chinese vase 
 which had cost the banker a small fortune. With true 
 child instinct little Peter had demolished the most valu-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 433 
 
 able vase in the parlor. The servant apprehensively 
 gathered up the pieces, expecting a violent explosion from 
 uncle Davy, but instead she beheld, merely a dear old 
 man deeply absorbed in quieting the sobs of the child in 
 the folds of his loving arms. 
 
 That night as he stood in front of the mirror in his 
 dresser, he suddenly observed, as he gazed ruefully at his 
 ruddy old face; 
 
 " Fifteen hundred dollars gone to smash, Davy, old 
 boy, unless that tinker can fix it up; but egad, man, I 
 believe you're getting younger every day." 
 
 The child still comes thru the gate, and a piece of bric- 
 a-brac gets broken now and then. But what matter. A 
 lonely old man is living over again a few happy child- 
 enriched years.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 One day the father followed the child thru the gate. 
 He was wrestling with a problem and David Moore must 
 help him solve it. 
 
 The banker sat smoking in his great chair as his friend 
 entered, and the chubby boy sprang into uncle Davy's lap 
 with his usual impetuosity. The two men conversed for 
 a long time, David blowing out great clouds of smoke, 
 which Standish watched as it rose lazily and drifted away 
 among the tall palms and golden bird cages; while little 
 Peter played with his blocks and watched the goldfish 
 dart in and out among the doors and windows of the 
 submerged German castles. 
 
 "Um-m, so you want to build a smelter, do you, 
 Standish?" mused David after a long silence, "and you 
 have to build a railroad to Plume, the coal fields, and the 
 lime quarries, in order to be master of the situation, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, that's it, David. It's a big proposition and I 
 need help. I've got the money to do it all with, but 
 I'm almost afraid to tackle both of the propositions at 
 once. One of them, alone, is enough to keep a fellow 
 busy for a while." 
 
 "All right, Standish, I'll think it over and let you 
 know. Getting to be an old man, my boy, almost on 
 the shelf now, but when a young duck like you comes 
 along, it kinda makes me want to creep out of my shell 
 and look around." 
 
 Later, as the child and father crossed the yard and 
 passed thru the gate and on into their home, David's 
 gaze rested on them lovingly. Then he pondered long 
 and deeply. 
 
 Was it only a dream? Would it ever become a reality? 
 
 Creature of fascination, ever haunting the Sublime 
 Stage and bidding him dare. 
 
 435
 
 436 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Yes, never more fascinating than at this very moment. 
 Fairly cringing at his feet and licking his shoes with the 
 dumb beast's desire to serve and please its matser. 
 
 The Steel monster again. 
 
 Brandishing some four hundred and odd miles of shin 
 ing steel rails. Twisting and winding them among great 
 hills; thrusting them thru massive mountains; stringing 
 them across great rivers; and laying them across green 
 fertile valleys and thru vast forests as they laid dimpling 
 and smiling in the golden western sun. 
 
 THE SALT LAKE SHORT LINE! 
 
 A magnificent steel highway plunging boldly into the 
 Great Hills west and north of Denver. 
 
 Many years ago, when the famous Jay Gould visited 
 the mountain metropolis and viewed the boundless re 
 sources of the Great Divide, he had said to David, who 
 was then merely the cashier of National First ; 
 
 " Straight west, Mr. Moore, that's the railroad you need 
 to make your Denver the railroad center of the mountain 
 West." 
 
 Horace Greeley thought so too, when he made his 
 famous overland trip across the Rockies. And long years 
 ago, the well meaning but unfortunate Brick Pomeroy 
 had invested thousands of his own as well as other peoples 
 money, in a great black unfinished tunnel driven in a 
 huge buttress of Grays Peak near Silver Plume, in a 
 vain endeavor to pierce the Great Divide for a short cut 
 to Salt Lake City, the Mormon capital, and Ogden, the 
 Huntington gateway to the Pacific. 
 
 In vindication of those sages of the past generation, it 
 is only necessary to cite that the great Rio Grande railroad 
 swings for over a hundred miles southward along the 
 range from Denver, before it dares to make the leap to 
 ward the Great Hills to distant Utah. Then after wind 
 ing and doubling tortuously upon itself, it has to return 
 all this distance way over towards Utah, to at last labor 
 iously crawl into Salt Lake City, having gone out of its 
 way several hundred miles from a direct line northwest 
 of Denver, stringing out seven hundred and forty-one
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 437 
 
 miles of steel to cover a direct distance of only four 
 hundred. While the Union Pacific, the northern route 
 to Salt Lake, crawling way up into Wyoming via 
 Cheyenne, has laid down six hundred and twenty-eight 
 miles of track to cover the same distance. 
 
 Truly a sad state of affairs in this day and age of 
 modern world-wide economy and science, for Salt Lake 
 lies only about four hundred miles north and west of 
 Denver as the crow flies; and thus from two hundred 
 and twenty-eight to three hundred and forty-one miles 
 of precious steel hung up and wasted to cover that com 
 paratively short stretch. A source of constant annoyance 
 to the traveler, who looks regretfully upon the map in 
 his railroad folder as he observes the conductors take 
 seven hundred and forty-one units of mileage from his 
 mileage-book; when, if a direct line were in operation 
 between Denver and Salt Lake, it would only take a little 
 more than four hundred miles of coupon transportation, 
 to say nothing about the great saving of time and the 
 reduced cost of meals and Pullman service. . 
 
 David Moore had dreamed for many years of building 
 this short line to Salt Lake. But so many other things 
 had absorbed his time and attention that he had felt it 
 too great a task for a man of his years to undertake. But 
 this Standish Brown, still youthful,, rich, and an ac 
 knowledged power in the state ; and who also contemplated 
 the construction of some one hundred and fifty odd miles 
 of railroad to connect his proposed new smelter with his 
 group of mines at Plume, and to tap certain coal fields 
 and lime quarries. Why couldn't this big husky chap 
 help on this Short Line proposition as well; especially 
 as his contemplated one hundred and fifty miles of rail 
 road was almost on a direct line from Denver to Salt 
 Lake. Why not wake up then, David Moore, and add 
 the other three or four hundred miles, and thus achieve 
 what Denver has waited for so long, the Short Line to Salt 
 Lake? 
 
 As the old banker sat there and smoked, and looked 
 upon the great play on the boards of the Sublime Stage,
 
 438 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 he actually became enthused, and rising to his feet he 
 walked slowly back and forth with his hands clasped be 
 hind his stout back. Musing thus beside the soft playing 
 fountain amid the green palms, in the presence of the 
 dreaming Sappho, he became deeply absorbed in the Play, 
 often applauding the actors and sighing deeply in the in 
 tensity of his contemplation. 
 
 He arrived at his office at the National First that day 
 an hour late, the first tardiness for years. The sympa 
 thetic officials nodded their heads knowingly and thought, 
 "Sure enough, the dear old boy is feeling his years." 
 
 But uncle Davy fooled them this time, for that night 
 the dream was over, the spiritual reality was to be seconded 
 by the material reality. The inward fact was to be 
 demonstrated by the outward fact. 
 
 David Moore had decreed that the Short Line was to 
 be built. It was to be his crowning monument and effort 
 for Denver, his beloved Colorado, and the golden West.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 In September of 1902, the huge Web of the Spiders 
 began to shake. Not very alarmingly to be sure, but just 
 a disagreeable, annoying, persistent agitation, which 
 caused the Spiders to begin an investigation; with the 
 alarming result that several Wasps in the vicinity of 
 Denver were found building a nest, and that these slight 
 shakings of the Web was caused by the draught of certain 
 active Wasp wings, flying dangerously close to the Rocky 
 Mountain meshes of the National Railroad Spider Web. 
 
 This Web was a colossal, appalling affair. It was spun 
 out in vast terrifying strands of shining steel to all parts 
 of the nation. In fact, the Web really consisted of numer 
 ous smaller strands joined together at a point of vantage 
 where all the Spiders could readily meet and talk over 
 their affairs. 
 
 This vantage point was New York City, from which 
 the Vanderbilt and Cassett webs stretching westward to 
 Chicago and St. Louis, were connected with the Harriman, 
 Hill, and Moore webs; incidentally throwing out a strand 
 or so toward the great Gould web, which stretched south 
 ward from Detroit and Toledo toward Galveston and El 
 Paso. 
 
 North and east of New York City, the great Hall web 
 spread over New England and far northward to Montreal 
 and Nova Scotia, where it made a connection with the 
 Van Home web. This Van Home web also stretched 
 far westward to Vancouver, with a long, slender strand 
 reaching down to Seattle, Tacoma, and Portland. 
 
 South of New York City was spread the Morgan-Bel- 
 mont web clear thru to New Orleans, where its shin 
 ing meshes were woven in with the Harriman and Gould 
 webs, which hung down the continent from Chicago and 
 
 ' 439
 
 440 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 St. Louis, stretching far westward to San Francisco and 
 southward to El Paso and the cities of old Mexico. 
 
 If a blow were struck upon any of these enormous 
 webs of steel, it would be instantly felt by these king 
 Spiders in little old New York, whose nests were built 
 all over Isle Manhattan. Palatial nests costing millions 
 of dollars, and which were furnished and decorated with 
 the vast spoil and plunder of those poor flies and other 
 insects which had been caught in the fatal meshes of 
 these luring lines of steel. 
 
 Quite frequently, too, these fat, yellow-bellied Spiders 
 would quarrel among themselves; to such an extent at 
 times, that they would rob each other of their webs, and 
 savagely tear great rents in the steely skeins in their 
 fierce spider battles; and often, too, the weaker spider 
 would die from the effects of his hard encounter. 
 
 If he did thus die. he was immediately devoured and 
 his web carefully divided among the balance of the spider 
 kings. That was why some of these huge yellow fellows 
 were so big and fat. Their swollen, distended yellow bel 
 lies being crammed full of the little fellows, cruelly slain 
 and gluttonously and remorselessly devoured. 
 
 Thus, the entire National Railroad Spider Web was 
 ruled by about a dozen real big yellow bellies. The others 
 being content to rule smaller webs, and who would quick 
 ly abandon the meshes of their steely skein, if one of 
 the big, fat boys should choose to meander over it. 
 
 But to return to this rude shaking of the National Web 
 near Denver. 
 
 It had long since come to the ears of the Harriman 
 and Gould yellow-bellies, that several surveying parties 
 were at work in the Great Hills west of the mountain 
 metropolis. 
 
 What did it mean? 
 
 Rumor said that certain Denver capitalists were going 
 to build a short line to Salt Lake City, and that these 
 surveyors were locating the line. 
 
 Oh ! Terrible !
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE Ji 
 
 The very thought of it arousing the yellow-bellied 
 spider kings, Every Hold Harriman and Gougy Gould 
 to wildest rage. For who would dare to propose a rail 
 road thru that great empire of undeveloped country, 
 which lies between Denver and Salt Lake? A broad and 
 rich domain of agricultural, fruit, grazing, coal, and tim 
 ber lands; comprising a magnificent region of mountain 
 ranges secreting countless treasuries of precious mineral, 
 making up in the aggregate an almost wholly undeveloped 
 territory of nearly sixty thousand square miles. 
 
 Did not the rails of Harriman's Union Pacific hedge in 
 this great domain on the north ; while Gould's Rio Grande 
 fenced it in on the south? And between these two fast 
 binding strands of steel who would dare lay a rail for 
 car and locomotive? 
 
 Yet such, for a full quarter of a century had been the 
 miserable situation of this glorious land, bursting with 
 wealth and treasure, and sighing for a brave knight 
 to overthrow these fat Yellow-bellies, by thrusting a bright 
 steel lance of a railroad straight thru the center of this 
 magnificent virgin empire from Denver to the Mormon 
 capital. 
 
 This was not the only trouble that the Yellow-bellies 
 were experiencing at this time, for the National Web 
 had also been frightfully shaken near Los Angeles, 
 where a certain Montana copper king was projecting a 
 line of steel across Nevada and California to reach a 
 short line up to Salt Lake from the west, and satisfy the 
 cry of Los Angelans for a quick route to Chicago and the 
 far East. As it is now, they had to swing clear up to San 
 Francisco and Reno, or curve way down to Albuquerque, 
 before they could cut across the country toward the 
 metropolis of the Great Lakes. 
 
 My! Such impudence! Just because brother Clark 
 had nothing else to do, he would dare to run a little 
 bunch of rails up to Utah, and gayly run locomotives 
 and cars across sandy Nevada to Salt Lake. How the Harri 
 man yellow-belly did squeal when he discovered Clarky's 
 game.
 
 442 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Kinda pleased Gougy Gould tho. For Gougy secretly 
 intended to place a Yellow-belly crown upon the copper 
 maced Clark, and formally introduce him into the ways 
 of railroad spiderdom when he came rolling up in his 
 new cars to Salt Lake. Then when he had administered 
 the Yellow-belly password to him, they would weave in 
 their webs of steel, and start thru trains over them be 
 tween Detroit and Los Angeles, via Chicago and Salt Lake. 
 
 "Oh! What a joke it will be on Every Hold Harri- 
 man," thought Gougy. 
 
 But, ugh! Dark brown taste in Gougy's moutE. For 
 in his joy over Clarky's coming to Salt Lake, he had 
 forgotten those Denver Wasps. This little Denver affair 
 might spoil his new transcontinental scheme. So under 
 these alarming conditions, Gougy Gould and Every Hold 
 Harriman met in the gay capital of the Spiders, on the 
 little isle of Manhattan, and decided that this Denver 
 uprising must be nipped in the bud. 
 
 But, oh! A horrid wasp was such a different proposi 
 tion from a poor fly or a measly gnat.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 Meanwhile what a busy time these Denver Wasps 
 were having. 
 
 Finance wasp, Mr. David Moore. 
 
 Construction wasp, Mr. Standish Brown. 
 
 The promoter and the builder respectively, of the Salt 
 Lake Short Line. 
 
 Mr. Old Residenter, who had dreamed of such a line 
 for two generations, did, really prick up his ears at this 
 combination. 
 
 "What! Dave Moore and 40 Rounds Brown, the head 
 of this Short Line proposition?" he exclaimed, as he 
 rushed down to the National First and interviewed blunt 
 Horace Nichols. 
 
 " Fact," said Horace. 
 
 "Well, here's where I get in on the ground floor," he 
 commented. And sure enough, when the subscription 
 books were opened up, he put his name down for a big 
 bunch of the green and gold bonds of the Denver, North 
 western, and Salt Lake. 
 
 A suite of offices were opened up by the new corpora 
 tion in the Mountain building, in connection with those 
 of the construction corporation, known as the Short Line 
 Construction Co. This latter concern was to build the 
 line, deal with the various contractors and dealers, and 
 eventually, as the road was constructed, it would be for 
 mally turned over to the parent corporation for operation 
 and maintenance, Standish being the head of the con 
 struction concern. 
 
 As the various surveying parties made their reports 
 the Short Line gradually took form on paper. It was 
 really a great project. For, in addition to penetrating 
 the great Front Range of the Rockies, there were doz 
 ens of minor ranges to be crossed, numerous deep cafioned 
 
 443
 
 444 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 rivers, and many chains of rugged hills. A big 
 change was in store for Teddy Roosevelt's shooting pre 
 serve in 'this part of the country, for the proposed route 
 of the Short Line passed right thru the hill country 
 where the strenuous Teddy followed the cougar hounds 
 in 1901. 
 
 As Standish inspected the sum total of the surveyor's 
 reports with the assistance of a corps of engineers, he 
 found that they had opened up a splendid and feasible 
 line. A line that was at least two hundred miles shorter 
 than the Union Pacific, and moreover, a comparatively 
 easy grade for a mountain road. 
 
 An easy GRADE, that was almost as essential as a 
 direct line. It is the one great object of modern railroad 
 construction. Formerly engineers were eager to get a 
 line thru at almost any grade, but nowadays the boldest 
 of them are forced to seek easy grades, modern railroad 
 magnates demanding it as absolutely necessary to eco 
 nomic transportation. 
 
 There was no doubt that the line satisfied Standish. 
 But there was something else to be done before he could 
 advertise for bids and begin construction. He must wait 
 a little yet, and settle once and for all a most important 
 question. 
 
 The PASS. 
 
 The pass which led over the main range of the Rockies. 
 
 Oh! These railroad kings are well dubbed Spiders. 
 For in the interest of their monopolies one of them had a 
 feathery right-of-way up the pass that Standish had picked 
 out for his road. And more, you can bet he would 
 fight to hold it, too, for every Yellow-belly on Wall Street 
 was pledged to kill off these Colorado Wasps. 
 
 The Jimmy Hill spider had a right-of-way up the St. 
 Vrain. The Harriman up the Boulder. The Hawley up 
 the South Boulder. 
 
 Yet, one of these passes must be utilized for the Short 
 Line. 
 
 Which one, did you say? 
 
 Well, that was Standish Brown's business.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 445 
 
 And as a sample of what the Wasps were up against, 
 it was only twenty-four hours after the Spiders on Wall 
 Street had learned of the projected Short Line, that every 
 one of the above named passes was guarded by a force of 
 Pinkertons comfortably housed in hastily built lodges, 
 and sworn to maintain the most vigilant and faithful 
 watch upon these Colorado Wasps. 
 
 Standish couldn't make a move until this pass business 
 was settled, and he must move at once, even tho it 
 was winter and the mountains buried deep in snow.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 Gus. Johnson was in hard straits these days. Cause 
 short rations on liquor, and Drink was protesting might- 
 
 ny. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson, the poor, sad faced little woman, who 
 had so long denied herself the necessities of life in order 
 that her husband and Drink might have their fill, had 
 called on Standish one day, and requested that a por 
 tion of her husband's salary be turned over direct to her. 
 Such an arrangement would support their little family 
 comfortably, gradually pay off the debts; and the drunk 
 ard could then spend what he pleased upon his mistress 
 without further neglecting his family. 
 
 Horrors! Johnson was doled out an allowance of only 
 twenty-five dollars a month for him and Drink. Why, 
 it wouldn't feed them for two weeks, so for several months 
 after this arrangement was put into effect by his desper 
 ate wife and employer, the drunkard made life miserable 
 for the little woman. Once, egged on by his mistress, he 
 had attempted to beat her, but was prevented by the 
 timely arrival of his son, Harry, who was developing 
 rapidly both mentally and physically. Thus Johnson 
 was deterred from the act as he looked into the courag 
 eous blue eyes of his sturdy little son. 
 
 "A tough little kid," he thought, "might hit me with 
 a club, or brain me with an axe if he took a notion." 
 
 One day, however, as the drunkard stood in the marble 
 lined entrance of the Insurance building, holding his 
 paltry check of twenty-five dollars in his trembling 
 hand, the most of which he already owed to a nearby 
 saloonkeeper, and also inwardly raging at the thought 
 that his wife would probably call at the office in a few 
 moments and receive a fat check of seventy-five dol 
 lars, made out in her own name, all of which he had 
 
 447
 
 448 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 earned himself and was, in his eyes, justly due him, he 
 was almost bumped into by the spare figure of John 
 Charles Rose. 
 
 " Why ! How do you do, Gus," exclaimed that worthy, 
 with all the cordiality that his selfish nature could as 
 sume. 
 
 "Pretty good, thank you," replied Johnson suspici 
 ously. 
 
 "Won't won't you come over and have a drink with 
 me, old boy?" said the attorney in a lower tone, looking 
 furtively about him. 
 
 "What! Great Caesar, he must be crazy," thought 
 the drunkard in sheer amazement. 
 
 But Drink said to him : " You chump, get in on this, 
 quick. There's sure a hen on." 
 
 So, shoving the check in his pocket, the drunkard 
 ambled unsteadily after the attorney, who led the way to 
 a nearby place, which had all the appearance of a French 
 restaurant. Johnson knew the place well. It was a fav 
 orite hang out for those tipplers who didn't like to be 
 seen in a regular wide open saloon. 
 
 As they sat down at one of the tables, the attorney 
 looked meaningly at the drink-depraved bookkeeper of 
 Standish Brown. 
 
 Another New York crowd required information. 
 
 The Spiders wanted to know about the Wasps, and they 
 had employed the sly Mosquito to obtain the necessary 
 information. 
 
 The upshot of this meeting between Rose and Johnson 
 was, the sale of certain information by Johnson to Rose 
 for a generous consideration. Part of said considera 
 tion paid into Johnson's hands that very afternoon, the 
 balance to follow as rapidly as the coveted knowledge 
 was delivered from time to time to the aforesaid Rose. 
 
 Johnson and Drink left the place deliriously happy 
 in the thought of unlimited libations, and John Charles 
 Rose with the fond hope of discovering the most secret 
 moves of the Colorado Wasps.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 Some sixty miles from Denver as the crow flies, lies 
 Hot Sulphur Springs, the county-seat of Grand County, 
 Colorado, and the exact center of famous Middle Park. 
 
 Been lying there thus for half century. 
 
 Why? 
 
 No RAILROAD. 
 
 Shut in by lofty mountains on all sides, Middle Park 
 lies in the lap of the Great Divide, a veritable mountain 
 paradise. Sleeping until that magic day when a ribbon 
 of steel with its sinuous, glittering folds would wend 
 its way among the snowy towers of the Great Hills, and 
 loose at last in the valley of the Grand, the shrieking 
 locomotive screaming its conquering blast of civilization. 
 
 Even fair cup-shaped Bohemia is not shut in as is 
 this beautiful natural park of Colorado. If the famous 
 home of the Czechs is a cup among the mountains, 
 Middle Park is certainly a bowl. 
 
 To the east, the mighty Front Range rises an almost 
 impregnable barrier, its peaks soaring nearly two miles 
 above the level of the Great Plains, culminating in Longs 
 mighty mass, 14,271 feet above sea-level. Even Berthoud 
 Pass, the mail route to the Park, being way above timber- 
 line. 
 
 To the south is the Williams River range, which peaks 
 attain an altitude of over 12,000 feet. 
 
 To the west is the noble Park range, culminating in 
 the Rabbit Ears in the extreme northwest, which sharp 
 brown tips rise nearly 11,000 feet above the sea. 
 
 While to the north is the solid granite rampart of the 
 Continental Divide, peaked on the western edge by Mt. 
 Whitely, a 10,000-foot rater, and on the eastern edge by 
 Baker Mountain, 12,613 feet high. 
 
 MIDDLE PARK! 
 
 449
 
 450 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Shut off from the world. Its center only sixty miles 
 from busy Denver, but intervening, is the snow-crested 
 barrier which for nearly half a century has defied the 
 locomotive. 
 
 Bud Snyder had lived in the Park since '66. Squat 
 ting there on a half section of Grand River bottom wait 
 ing for the railroad, and the boom its advent was sure to 
 bring, his once long chestnut locks, having turned white 
 as snow in this weary vigil of thirty-six years. On one 
 of the upper slopes of the Vasquez range he owned a 
 group of mineral claims, which he had persistently 
 worked for years. Had a fine body of ore, too. A rich 
 streak of sylvanite in several places. No good, tho, until 
 a railroad came into the Park to haul it to market. Not 
 to be compared at this time with his good half section, 
 upon which he could raise a crop of grain and graze his 
 horses and cattle. Bud was the sheriff of the county, too. 
 Not much of a job to be sure, but together with his long 
 residence in the vicinity, it had established him as the 
 king pigeon of Grand County. 
 
 One day in the winter of 1902-3, Bud sat by the fire 
 in his neat log-house looking out of the window up at 
 the Berthoud stage road for the stage from Frazer. Big 
 blizzard raging on the upper hills, some eighteen inches 
 of snow in the Park itself. Stage late as usual, with the 
 Great Hills white and the beautiful scudding in an ugly 
 wind blowing from North Park and the Wyoming line. 
 
 However, the stage hove in sight at last, emerging from 
 under a deep gray snow cloud which was coursing the 
 slopes of the Vasquez, causing the driver to crouch 
 down low in the seat, as the sturdy mountain horses, 
 with long icicles clinging to their steaming nostrils, trot 
 ted at a good pace in the teeth of the wind. 
 
 At the sight of it, Bud rose, put on his hat, and started 
 to the postoffice to get his mail. He was watching the 
 Denver papers closely these days, reading about the new 
 railroad. He had also encountered a couple of surveying 
 parties on the Grand the previous fall, and somehow he 
 kind of felt that the railroad was to be a go this time.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 451 
 
 He did not know Standish Brown personally, but he 
 had not forgotten an incident which occurred back in the 
 later 80's, when the Clear Creek boys from Empire 
 had packed provisions over the almost impassable Ber- 
 thoud for the relief of the people at the Springs. He re 
 membered that Standish Brown was one of the men who 
 had footed the bill. 
 
 " God bless him," thought Bud many a time since the 
 new railroad had been proposed and he knew that Brown 
 was one of the promoters, "Mebbe he'll be my lucky 
 strike this time, too." 
 
 Bud reached the postoffice just in time to hear a tall 
 man, who was bundled up in a huge fur overcoat, ask for 
 the whereabouts of Bud Snyder. 
 
 "Reckon that's me, boss. What kin I do fer you?" 
 said Bud, stepping up to the newcomer, and proceeding 
 to cut off a huge chunk of "Battle-ax," jamming it into his 
 cavernous mouth. 
 
 " Glad to know you, Mr. Snyder. I want to see you 
 about a little personal matter when you have time," re 
 plied the stranger, evidently not wishing to speak his 
 business more fully in the presence of several inhabitants 
 of the Springs who had gathered for their mail. 
 
 " All right, stranger, if you'll jest wait until I get my 
 mail, we'll go down to the shack." 
 
 A few minutes later, Bud ushered his visitor into the 
 living room of what he was wont to call his "shack," 
 but which was really a commodious two-story log-house. 
 
 "Women folks all dead, stranger only old Daddy 
 and me left," he added, as a great fox hound with an al 
 most snow white muzzle rose from his place near the fire 
 and licked his master's extended hand. 
 
 " Well, spit it out, pard," Bud continued, as his visitor 
 threw off his great coat and they seated themselves in 
 front of the fireplace, after Bud had piled the fire high 
 with pine-knots. 
 
 "Mr. Snyder," said the stranger, "my name is Stan- 
 dish Brown, and ." 
 
 "What! Your name Standish Brown?" interrupted
 
 452 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the amazed and delighted Bud, rising to his feet and ex 
 tending his hand eagerly, which Standish was pleased to 
 grasp heartily; "Why, gol darn my old yellow galluses 
 and dirty red westcoat, if I ain't tickled to death and 
 buried in a lead coffin to see you, Mr. Brown. Shake, 
 my dear sir, if it's the last shake I have on this danged 
 old clod of earth." 
 
 For a long time Standish conversed "with Bud, and as 
 the sentences fell from his lips, the eyes of the gaunt, 
 wrinkled sheriff of Grand County opened wider and 
 wider. As he finished, the sheriff's jaws closed with a 
 grim snap. 
 
 " By G , it's a go, guvnur," he said in reply. "I'll 
 
 match Grand County deputies against "Pinkertons any 
 day, when it's as plain a game as this; and besides, guv 
 nur," he continued, a big tear trickling down his cheek, 
 "I've been waiting thirty-six long years fer this here rail 
 road, and the man that steps 'tween me and engine smoke 
 has got ter fight. My little old half section will bring 
 me a good hundred dollars an acre soon as the road gets 
 in here, and the mines on the Vasquez will do the rest. 
 You see, guvnur, I've got a widdy waiting fer me down 
 in old Indianny, and you can jest put it down that we'll 
 fly high when the Short Line comes to town. And let 
 me tell you another thing, too, guvnur, every danged man 
 thet I sign up fer this here gang of deps, is goin' to be 
 a man thet's got a claim jest like me. Them's the kind 
 thet they'll be no foolin' with, guvnur, the boys thet's 
 fightin' fer their homes." 
 
 Standish caught the return stage to Denver. He had 
 closed a deal with Bud Snyder concerning a certain pass 
 which led across the Front Range into Middle Park.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 David Moore financed the first hundred miles of the 
 Short Line with great success. Local capitalists sub 
 scribed generously for the bonds, and his old friends, the 
 Berliners, went into the deal for several million. Like 
 wise a number of old money-bag friends in Boston and 
 Baltimore. Indeed so apparently substantial was the sup 
 port of the enterprise at first, that Uncle Davy suddenly 
 found himself at the head of a concern which not only 
 promised to return large profits, but also to gain for him 
 the eternal gratitude of all loyal Coloradoans. 
 
 As with the illustrious First Citizen, his name alone 
 inspired the confidence of investors. Solid capital that 
 name, David Moore, forty years of absolute business in 
 tegrity having made it a power that the actual posses 
 sion of twenty millions in the hands of a less competent 
 man could not make. 
 
 David kept a close watch on his younger associate, and 
 was thoroly posted as to the surveyor's route-develop 
 ing process. But thru it all, he did not omit his daily 
 hour with little Peter in the midst of the sun-parlor. 
 
 Very shortly after Standish encountered the vexatious 
 question of the Pass, which also involved many right-of- 
 way matters, he realized that he must preserve absolute 
 secrecy in his correspondence, or his plans might com 
 pletely miscarry. A few days before his trip to the 
 Springs, a neatly dressed young woman began to appear 
 every weekday morning at the rear door of the Brown 
 mansion. A sewing girl for Madame Fiorina, perhaps, 
 but in reality a private stenographer handling the secret 
 correspondence of the Short Line, especially relating to 
 that \prtion designated by Standish as "Pass A," the 
 real point of attack on the Yellow-bellies; while his 
 
 453
 
 454 THETHEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 downtown correspondence was devoted to "Pass B," the 
 point of a feigned attack. 
 
 It was in this latter point of attack that Gus Johnson 
 was very much interested, both in his regular position 
 as Standish's private bookkeeper, and as an occasional 
 privileged visitor at the Short Line office in the Mountain 
 building, where he seemed to have no difficulty in keep 
 ing thoroly posted as to the progress of the line. 
 
 The Mosquito was in high good humor these times. 
 Daily bulletins from Johnson disclosed the entire plans 
 of the Wasps, these bulletins being duly transmitted to 
 the New York Yellow-bellies by the exultant Rose. With 
 such a perfect organization these Wasps were scarcely as 
 dangerous as so many poor flies. 
 
 About this time the Pinkerton forces were considerably 
 strengthened at "Pass B." Soon the arrival of certain 
 carloads of rails, ties, and other railroad supplies were 
 noted at the nearby town of Lion on the Vrain. This 
 was one of the points where the Jimmy Hill spider had 
 fastened his web to the foothills of the central Rockies, 
 and guarded the entrance to the St. Vrain canon. At 
 this indisputable evidence there was no longer any doubt 
 in the minds of the Spiders and their emissaries, but that 
 the Short Line folks were getting ready for a raid, to block 
 which the Spiders employed a couple of dozen section 
 men to throw up a strong 'barricade across the mouth of 
 the St. Vrain entrance, while a switch-engine under con 
 stant steam and attached to a long string of flat-cars, 
 stood on a nearby siding ready to block with a mass of 
 rock and steel any crossing which the Short Line raiders 
 might attempt. John Charles Rose in the meantime was 
 carefully inspecting the right-of-way papers which gave 
 the Yellow-bellies absolute possession of the St. Vrain en 
 trance to the great Front Range, while an injunction was 
 already drawn up to be granted by the court the instant 
 the attack was made. Poor Wasps, they had undertaken a 
 hopeless task, this storming of the St. Vrain pass. 
 
 How merrily the Spiders talked it over as they sat in 
 their nests in little old New York, and exchanged aft'ec-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 455 
 
 tionate touches with their stubby crabbed beaks and long 
 feathery legs. Sweet billionaire love. Tender, touching, 
 gentle multi-millo passion. How charming this rubbing 
 together of noses over the discomfiture of the poor strug 
 gling Wasps. 
 
 Rose finally wired the long expected message: 
 
 " Within a week, a gang of fifty laborers with a band of armed 
 leaders, will attempt to force the passage of the St. Vrain." 
 
 Soon the arrival of a carload of wheeled scrapers was 
 announced by the B. & M. agent at Lion. 
 
 "Well are we ready!" chuckled the Yellow-bellies 
 to themselves as they strengthened their forces with a 
 fresh detachment of Pinkertons. And, sure enough, in 
 full confirmation of Johnson's latest bulletin, the Wasps 
 appeared upon the scene with a big gang of shovelers and 
 pick wielders, who partially unloaded the cars of material 
 and attempted to throw up a grade upon the banks of the 
 St. Vrain.. 
 
 At this juncture the Pinkertons challenged them, 
 flaunting copies of Rose's injunction in their faces; but 
 the armed guards of the Wasps defied them impudently 
 and several warning shots were fired on both sides. 
 Finally as the situation became more acute the frightened 
 laborers scattered, and with night coming on, tfie Short 
 Line crowd retired, temporarily defeated. 
 
 All this news came out in the Denver papers with 
 sensational head-lines, and consternation and high indig 
 nation reigned among the citizens of the city and state. 
 The defeat of their pet project seemed assured, and long 
 editorials in the leading journals denounced the iniqui 
 tous rule of the Yellow-bellies. Also appeared in the 
 press various interviews with the defeated Wasps. David 
 Moore was reported as looking decidedly glum; Standish 
 Brown as anxious and discouraged. 
 
 Unknown to the newspapers, however, John Charles 
 Rose was very happy, and Gus Johnson was fighting
 
 456 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 booze at a great rate, rolling in cocktails and five-fing 
 ered decoctions with alarming rapidity. 
 
 The fight continued. The governor threatened to call 
 out the state militia, and mass meetings of Denver citi 
 zens were about to be called, when, all at once a great 
 event happened. An entirely new situation,
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 For ages the Pass had endured under the blue vault 
 of heaven. Ever since the massive crust of Mother Earth 
 had suddenly heaved, the high peaks had popped up in 
 wild disorder; and the vast prehistoric ocean had been 
 thrust back, to roll for other untold ages over that re 
 gion which is now known as the Great Plains; that bel 
 lowing, ponderous ocean, which once beat and tugged at 
 the base of these mighty Rocky Mountains, as at present 
 the thundering Pacific rolls its surging tide over the wide 
 sandy bar of the Columbia, and the North Sea batters 
 ceaselessly upon the granite buttresses of Norway. 
 
 Only a laughing seaward rushing creek now flows 
 where once great oceans rolled. 
 
 Indeed, the Creek was really a most dainty thing. The 
 combined flow of innumerable rivulets, which tumbled 
 down from the eternal snow-fields of the high soaring 
 James and the twin Arapahoes thrust some 13,000 feet 
 upward among the clouds. 
 
 In summer time the Creek rolls and tumbles busily 
 at flood tide over the mossy stones and among the frag 
 rant pines, its tiny wavelets reaching up and lapping the 
 feet of the columbines and gentians which grow upon 
 its mist-sprayed banks. In winter, its flow gradually 
 dwindles, and finally as the deep snows set in and the mer 
 cury falls, it freezes, almost solid for dozens of wintry 
 miles, only to be again released from its icy sheath by the 
 warm spring sun. 
 
 Beside the Creek lies the Trail. A very dim and shad 
 owy Trail now, but, nevertheless, as one peers up into 
 the narrow gorge of the Creek which leads up to the foot 
 of the James, he can discern even yet, a dim, ghostly, 
 pine-needled, aspen-leaved pathway which winds dimly 
 among the leafy aisles of the forest. 
 
 457
 
 458 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Upon this trail once walked the mighty thunder-footed 
 buffalo, marching hot and panting from the scorching, 
 burning arroyos of the Great Plains, thrusting his 
 parched, dusty muzzle full into the sparkling, refreshing 
 flood of the creek drinking his fill, to later recline in 
 sweet enjoyment among the fragrant pines in the cool 
 shadow of the towering crags. Here the deer and the 
 antelope have often rushed in from the plains to escape 
 the hunter and the wolf, only to fall prey to the blood 
 thirsty cougar in some dark recess of the gorge. 
 
 Often, as some gentle doe reaching down her beautiful 
 head to quaff from the smiling stream, a hideous yel 
 low form has leaped suddenly upon her back. Fearful 
 claws have sank deep into her tender flesh, and fierce 
 ponderous jaws have torn at her graceful throat. Two 
 days later perhaps, the only remains of this fleet and 
 graceful courser of the wilds, was a skeleton, picked clean 
 to the color of alabaster, to lay still and silent beside the 
 unheeding stream, and slowly succumb to decay in the 
 deep mould of the forest floor. 
 
 From the high castled crags of the Pass, the sun-defy 
 ing eagle peers down into the green embowered depths 
 of this stately portal of the Great Hills. Observing a 
 chipmunk perhaps, a trout flashing its exquisite rainbow 
 colors in the clear waters of the stream, or a rabbit, nib 
 bling a tuft of grass, this king of the air plunges sud 
 denly downward in meteoric flight, and returns with its 
 victim vainly wriggling in the clutch of the steely death 
 talons. Soaring with its prey to the eyrie upon the dis 
 tant crag, it drops it among the ravenous eaglets to gorge 
 themselves, until soon the white bones of the victim drop 
 dismally over the edge of the cliff. 
 
 Here, too, in the somber reaches of the Pass, the plain's 
 Indians, the Arapahoes and the Cheyennes, used to meet 
 the mountain tribes of the Utes and the Blackfeet ; often 
 in peace and parley perhaps, also in death. Either seek 
 ing shelter from the death-dealing arrow, or smiling in 
 the keen enjoyment of the fragrant whiff of the calumet. 
 Thus, these beetling crags have resounded for ages with
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 459 
 
 the clashing arms of implacable savagery, and this 
 sparkling stream has borne upon its crystal bosom the red 
 gore of the wounded and dying Indian. 
 
 Mute evidences of these tragedies of the wilderness can 
 be found upon the banks and in the bed and shallows of 
 this beautiful mountain stream. Here the great thigh 
 bone of a bison is half embedded in the sand, beside it, 
 a couple of flint arrowheads glisten in the sunlight. 
 Caught between two boulders is a pair of antlers deeply 
 honeycombed with age. Bleaching upon a jut of sand-bar 
 is the jawbone of a coyote, and nearby, projecting just 
 above the sand ripples, is the white bristling spine of a 
 trout. 
 
 Standing in the Pass beside the stream, its granite, pine 
 niched, towering portals, form a grand cathedral win 
 dow. Looking toward the east thru this gigantic 
 opening of th*e Great Hills, one beholds the long, narrow, 
 green ribboned valley of the Creek, with its accompany 
 ing levels of irrigation ditches as it meanders thru the 
 wide rocky flats which sweep away toward the plains 
 from the lowest tier of foothills; while just above the 
 farthest eastern horizon, gleam the brown tumbling bil 
 lows of the Great Plains themselves. 
 
 Turning to the west, however, an almost perpendicu 
 lar mile or more of shining granite, arises, banked at 
 the base with dark masses of towering pines and spruces ; 
 and crested, just where the Great Hills kiss the blue, 
 with a pillow of eternal snow. 
 
 What a contrast! 
 
 To the east, the wide extended flats. To the west, the 
 awe inspiring heights. On the one hand, the white 
 fences of civilization, on the other, the howling wilder 
 ness. 
 
 But the day of wild barbaric Nature will soon end. 
 For thru this lofty window and high walled pass, the 
 shriek of the locomotive will soon mingle with the scream 
 of the eagle; and the "click-click," rail staccato of the 
 heavy Pullman wheels will mingle with the sonorous 
 gurgle and rush of the seaward flowing stream.
 
 460 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 This, then, is the Pass of the South Boulder, where 
 the Short Line is to enter the Great Hills, to throw its 
 ribbon of steel athwart the flanks of the unconquered 
 James, and roll down its victorious shining twin strands 
 into the virgin valley of the peak-locked Grand. 
 
 A short distance from where the South Boulder leaves 
 the gorge of the Pass and debouches upon the plains, is 
 the grass and weed covered terminal of an old defunct 
 railroad grade. Years ago the predecessors of the Hawley 
 spider built this grade. How easily the loose sandy soil 
 had been tossed up and rounded off as neat as a garden 
 terrace. But here in the dizzy shadow of the Great Hills, 
 where the solid granite had suddenly and ominously 
 grated upon the shovel of the grader, the work had as 
 suddenly stopped, and thus some great scheme of trans 
 continental mastery had ignominously ended. Here, at 
 the entrance of the South Boulder canon, ^vith the iron 
 rocked, deep buttressed, 13,000-foot James towering defi 
 antly in the far distance, a baffling and terrifying wall 
 of gleaming granite. But ever true to the never failing 
 clutch of the rapacious acquisitive Yellow-bellies, this 
 grade still shows on the map of one of their webs, and is 
 counted on to hold the right-of-way for them thru the 
 South Boulder Pass. A mere ghost line of possession, 
 flung timorously out to hold the entrance to an important 
 portal of the Rocky Mountains. 
 
 At the end of this defunct grade, now deeply covered 
 with snow, was the cabin of the Pinkertons. Two of 
 them. Only just enough to maintain the watch. Didn't 
 expect a Short Line move here, with all those extensive 
 preparations and yesterday's battle on the Vrain. The 
 windows of their rough board shack faced the east, and 
 thru them from time to time, the two faithfully watched 
 the valley of the creek, closely scrutinizing the hill coun 
 try toward the southeast, beyond which rose the smoke of 
 the Denver smelters, some eighteen miles away. With a 
 pair of field-glasses the heights of Westminster and the 
 Jesuit college could easily be observed, between which
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 461 
 
 points flows Clear Creek close to its junction with the 
 Platte. 
 
 Naturally, the Pinkertons paid very little attention to 
 the western view. What a bleak prospect? Only a solid 
 mass of mountain, uninhabited, dreary, and deeply buried 
 under the white mantle of winter. 
 
 Lulled into quiet security, especially by the latest news 
 of the situation phoned them from headquarters the pre 
 vious day as to the St. Vrain episode, they leisurely 
 watched the east and smoked their pipes. 
 
 That evening as they cooked their supper, the solitary 
 figure of a man stood in the entrance of the Pass, and 
 from behind a low boughed spruce closely examined their 
 shack with a pair of field-glasses. While further back, 
 hidden in the recesses of the canon, was a dozen or more 
 fellows all dressed in furs and walking on snowshoes, 
 each carrying both a revolver and a rifle as was the man 
 in advance, evidently their leader; and who was none 
 other than Bud Snyder, the sheriff of Grand County. 
 
 The sheriff and his men were upon no official errand 
 this time, and besides they had no business in this vi 
 cinity officially, as they were far outside the borders of 
 Grand County. They were simply out to meet the Pin 
 kertons upon an equal footing gun men hired to fight 
 the battles of a corporation. But with this marked dif 
 ference, every one of them had a vital interest in the 
 building of the Short Line. Either a mining claim on 
 the Vasquez, perhaps, certain acres of Grand River bot 
 tom, or town lots in the Springs. Every man of them 
 could be trusted to put up a desperate fight for bringing 
 Middle Park within the bounds of that civilization so 
 long denied it by the greed and avarice of the Yellow- 
 bellies. 
 
 Presently the dusk settled down heavily after the pro* 
 longed winter alpen glow. The vast shadow of the James 
 swallowed up the narrow gorge of the creek, and the 
 lights of distant Denver, in company with the stars, 
 sparkled out from the far southeast. 
 
 About eight o'clock, the Pinkertons were startled by a
 
 462 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 light knock on the door, and promptly pulling his re 
 volver, the elder of the two motioned to his companion 
 to open it. As the latch was drawn a revolver was thrust 
 in the Pinkerton's face and he was suddenly seized and 
 jerked thru the opening, while a dozen weapons were lev 
 elled on the man inside. Seeing that successful resist 
 ance was impossible, and rightly supposing that the tele 
 phone line had been cut, the elder Pinkerton threw his 
 weapon upon the table and quietly submitted. 
 
 Ten minutes later several rockets were discharged from 
 near the shack and within an hour the creaking wheels 
 of heavy wagons and wheeled scrapers could be heard 
 coming up the frozen, snow-covered road. By daybreak 
 a camp kitchen had been installed, serving breakfast to 
 the gang of graders who began laying a temporary track 
 over the old grade as the preliminary of the more ex 
 tended operations of a steam shovel, while by ten o'clock 
 that morning, the contractor who had made the successful 
 bid on that section of the Short Line, was watching his 
 men toss frozen snow and dirt into the dump carts and 
 superintending the operations of the wheeled scrapers. 
 
 Bud Snyder and his men camped in the vicinity for 
 several days, until the small army of graders was in 
 full swing and in undisputed possession of the Pass. 
 
 Up at Lion on the Vrain, the scene of the feigned attack, 
 several cars of steel, ties, etc., were rebilled by the rail 
 road agent to Marshall, the nearest station to the entrance 
 of the South Boulder canon, and a few days later this 
 material was laid on the freshly made grade which the 
 army of graders had thrown up in the Pass, and the 
 laugh was on the Yellow-bellies this time.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 The day of the battle on the St. Vrain, Gus. Johnson 
 felt miserable, and when the afternoon papers were tossed 
 into the office by the carriers, the drunkard read 
 every line of the battle account with morbid interest. 
 There was something fascinating about this peddling of 
 inner employer business, and seeing that nefarious traf 
 fic result in his discomfiture. Johnson's information had 
 been acted upon to the very letter by the Spiders, and 
 the result was glorious to the drunkard's feverish eyes 
 as he read again and again the sensational lines of 'the 
 papers. But later, as he entered the private office of his 
 employer and laid the papers upon Standish's desk, and 
 the man from Plume looked up at him in smiling ask 
 ance, the drunkard slunk back to the outer office deeply 
 abashed. The kindly smiling glance smote him to the 
 very depths of his existence, and returning distractedly 
 to his labors, he was immediately lost in the terrible play 
 of his soul. 
 
 Strange to relate, a new and unexpected being sprang 
 upon the Sublime Stage, and fought desperately with 
 Drink for mastery. A being the drunkard had never 
 known before. A half divine form, emanating trans 
 cendent beams of light, from which Drink shrank in 
 terror. 
 
 Nearer and nearer the glorious figure of light crept to 
 Drink and to the drunkard's inner quick soul. Its calm 
 accusing eyes filling him with unspeakable anguish. That 
 terrifying and glorious figure of light was the awful form 
 of REMORSE. 
 
 Hidden away in the recesses of the soul is this divine 
 child of Conscience. It may be secluded for years and 
 never wake to action. In a pure soul it may never appear, 
 save in a procession of angels, 'but in the soul of the guilty 
 
 463
 
 464 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 it is sure to spring into dreadful and terrifying action. 
 
 As with the life of certain plants, Remorse thrives in 
 an atmosphere of filth and pollution, and when a certain 
 state of fertilization is attained, blossoms and bears fruit. 
 It is like a stainless lily springing up from the muck and 
 mire of a malarial swamp. 
 
 Remorse is the last surviving child of Conscience, and 
 if it fails to rid the soul of the demon brood of Sin, that 
 soul has plunged forever from the Heights of Truth, 
 howling into the yawning abyss of Error. Many a soul 
 has been saved upon the very brink by this divine player, 
 but alas, how many have taken the dreadful plunge curs 
 ing and blaspheming the hand that would have saved 
 them. 
 
 As Standish left for home that evening, he noticed 
 that Johnson was acting strangely and was seemingly 
 under a peculiar spell. But as he passed out of the of 
 fice he addressed the drunkard a kindly good night and 
 patted him encouragingly on the shoulder as he cowered 
 over his books. 
 
 This was the supreme moment of that divine angel, 
 Remorse, for after the door closed behind his employer, 
 the drunkard shoved his books into the vault, closed the 
 door and turned the combination; and putting on his 
 overcoat and hat he took the elevator for the street and 
 was soon treading the thorofares of the city like one pos 
 sessed. He did not go home that night, and more strange 
 ly still, he did not enter a saloon. Remorse had tempo 
 rarily conquered Drink, and lost in the battle the 
 drunkard aimlessly wandered the streets. 
 
 The streets of east Denver present a peculiar phenome 
 non to the visitor who may chance to follow one of them to 
 its end. Walking briskly forward in the fresh, brac 
 ing air, interested in the ever changing types of archi 
 tecture which line both sides of the thorofare for miles, 
 he suddenly finds himself at the end of the street, a curious 
 unexpected end. 
 
 Westward, stretches the broad street with its thou-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 sands of beautiful homes and happy children, but east 
 ward is only a vast, bleak, and sand-blowing prairie. No 
 farms, no villages, no fences, no shady country lanes or 
 neat farmhouses. Nothing save the bare, raw plains 
 of cacti and sage-brush reaching eastward for hundreds 
 of weary miles towards the sandhills of Kansas and Neb 
 raska. A wide dreary waste unbroken by the plow. A 
 region of dry watercourses and sandy arroyos, over 
 which forever blows the wild bleak winds. 
 
 Bleak and forbidding as is this region, it has its his 
 tory. 
 
 Here is a battered tin can; there a rust eaten wagon 
 tire. That dark spot yonder in the sand was made by the 
 charred embers of an old campfire, carrying one back 
 to the days of '49; and marking the site of some gold 
 seeker's camp, who somehow in that long ago managed 
 to reach at least this far on his way to California and 
 exit who knows? 
 
 Here is a half worn, deeply moulded and dried up boot, 
 of a style and last not later than 1865; near it a few 
 bones are mingled with the shriveled tatters of a leather 
 belt, the corrosive green upon the withered leather, indic 
 ative of its contact with several copper rivets. This ex 
 hibit is that of a Pike's Peaker, who, reaching this stage 
 on his journey, met death in some mysterious manner, 
 was buried in a shallow sand shifting grave; and the 
 winds and coyotes have brought his bones from under the 
 sands to glisten gruesome under the high stars. 
 
 Here is a large stack of old tin cans and broken crock 
 ery, rusted iron and wire, together with a mixture of 
 red, yellow, and brown ashes, testifying to the former 
 presence of a large surveying party's camp, whose mem 
 bers were probably running one of the preliminaries of 
 the first Pacific railroad. 
 
 At another point on these bleak sands are indications 
 of a pioneer's brush with the Indians. Flint and steel 
 arrowheads mixed with several brass cartridge shells are 
 here visible ; also the skeletons of several horses and ponies 
 protruding from the sands of a large trench grad-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ually hollowed out by the winds ; while nearby the spokes 
 and broken hub of an old wagon wheel, and an old boot, 
 high heeled and brass nailed, sticks out from a clump 
 of half-dead sage-brush. 
 
 Yes. And probably the remains of several humans are 
 buried under the nearby mounds now covered by various 
 colonies of cacti. 
 
 Scattered over nearly every square mile of this wide 
 waste of drifting sand, cacti, and sage-brush, are the mute 
 evidences of the perilous life of our old friend, Wild 
 Woolly West. Doubtless when Uncle Sam finally irri 
 gates this region, the plow of the rancher will turn up 
 many other objects eloquent of the old virgin West. 
 
 It was ten o'clock of the same night that Gus John 
 son, first lost in the spell of Remorse, was walking swiftly 
 over these bleak plains east of Denver. There was no 
 light in the sky save that of the stars and a distant 
 white glow showing dimly over the edge of the low 
 hills in the west, marking the myriad lights of the distant 
 city. 
 
 By midnight, he had reached in his aimless wander 
 ings, the brow of a high hill from which he could see 
 the entire glittering expanse of Denver marked out with 
 its thousands of electric lights. Directly below him at 
 the foot of the hill, was the great smelter, Plant B, with 
 its cyclopean battery of flaming furnaces belching forth 
 their fearful hell fires. The great stack shrouded in mist 
 rose dimly in the distance, spitting forth its interminable 
 white cloud of sulphurous vapor into the starry sky. 
 
 Still under the spell of his thoughts, the drunkard 
 walked slowly down the long hill, and for a long time, 
 apparently fascinated by the sight of the flaming fur 
 naces, stood just outside the fire lines of Plant B. Then 
 he walked boldly out upon the hard slag floor of the 
 smelter, to where the furnace-men were running the slag 
 from the furnaces into the wheeled pots, and pouring 
 their molten contents into the huge settling kettles. 
 
 Standing by one of the monster settlers, watching the
 
 The fearful consuming depths of the monster seemed to 
 fascinate him strangely."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 467 
 
 workmen fill it with the fiery spew of the Great Hills, the 
 fearful consuming depths of the monster seemed to fas 
 cinate him strangely, and he clutched his throat spas 
 modically in that peculiar manner of the habitual drunk 
 ard. 
 
 Drink was at last reviving in his soul at the sight and 
 warmth of these awful hell fires of Plant B. And rous 
 ing herself in a supreme effort to regain control of the 
 drunkard, she leaped at Remorse with all the implacable 
 rage of a Fury, clutching the virgin's tender throat with 
 a scream of triumph. Slowly but surely under the aw 
 ful throttling, the divine light of the last child of Con 
 science was dying out. Drink, again triumphant, would 
 after slaying her victim again lead the drunkard saloon- 
 ward. 
 
 Remorse made one last agonizing struggle for mastery, 
 but in vain; and as her virgin form straightened out in 
 the rigors of death, Drink gave a triumphant glance at 
 her poor slave Johnson. 
 
 But what did she behold that struck her dumb with 
 terror; that made her relax her grip upon her latest vic 
 tim, and caused her to shrink back with wild screams of 
 rage and despair. 
 
 It was the vision of the wailing ghosts of her former 
 victims, Decency, Pride, Love. 
 
 Johnson beheld them also. A fearful sight this, upon 
 the stage of the Theatre Terrible. 
 
 At the head of these accusing figures was another 
 figure. A dancing, voluptuous, sinuous creature with 
 charms seductive to the drunkard's enraptured gaze. 
 
 It was the fatal soul siren, Suicide. 
 
 Gliding across the Sublime Stage with a soft cry of 
 delight, the Salome dancer of death wrapped her all too 
 willing victim in her rosy arms, and leaped with him into 
 the grim abyss. 
 
 Gus. Johnson, the degenerate son of Adam, plunged 
 head foremost into one of the huge settlers with its hor 
 rible pottage of molten slag. 
 
 Such was the dense, specific gravity of the melted rock,
 
 468 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 that at first the drunkard's form sank only to the arm 
 pits, his form skewering frightfully upon the surface 
 for a brief moment; then, evidently from the fact that 
 his body was absolutely soaked with alcohol, it burst 
 into a bluish flame full in the sight of several horror- 
 stricken smelter men, then slowly sank simmering and 
 melting, like a fly on a red-hot stove, into the flaming, 
 glowing mass with a last sickening hiss. 
 
 The Theatre Terrible had raised and dropped its last 
 curtain for poor Johnson. 
 
 No trace of him remained. Not a button. Not a 
 bone. Inside of five minutes the contents of settler No. 
 3 went hissing over the slag dump, just as tho it did 
 not hold within its molten brew, the vapor of a suicide. 
 
 Perhaps no suicide ever succeeded in annihilating him 
 self more completely than did Gus. Johnson. For not 
 a vestige of clothing, form, or substance of him remained. 
 An almost instantaneous reduction. Ashes to ashes, and 
 an unhappy soul lost in vapor. 
 
 After a long night of searching and suspense with 
 absolutely no clew to her husband's whereabuts, Mrs. 
 Johnson perused the morning papers eagerly, and no 
 ticed particularly the thrilling account of two smelter men 
 who had witnesed the fearful leap of a suicide into settler 
 No. 3 at Plant B. Standish also read the account, and after 
 a careful investigation and interviews with the witnesses 
 of the affair at the smelter, they agreed that in all 
 likelihood the victim was her husband. 
 
 Mrs. Johnson still continues to enjoy her monthly 
 check from Standish, altho she found steady and re 
 munerative employment as a seamstress. Standish 
 steadfastly refused her importunities to cease the sending 
 of the checks, and so at last accounts she was saving the 
 money to help pay for Harry's education. 
 
 Standish never knew of the perfidious relations which 
 existed between Johnson and John Charles Rose, and as 
 for the latter individual, he never fully recovered his 
 prestige with the New York crowd, following the loss 
 of the South Boulder Pass.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 The dirt was flying on the Short Line, and many miles 
 of it had been graded on the west slope of the Divide 
 in Middle Park by the spring of 1903, and was 
 ready for track-laying from the foot of the James into 
 the Springs, as soon as the road from the eastern slope 
 was brought to a connection and supplies could be brought 
 up; in consequence Standish was happy and satisfied 
 with the progress of the undertaking. 
 
 Great days these for Bud Snyder and the boys. The 
 boom was on. The dream of half a century had become 
 a reality. Town lots in the Springs were way up, for with 
 its hot springs and salubrious climate there was great 
 hope that it would become an important resort. 
 
 The track-laying gang on the east slope were well up 
 into the Pass by this time. A solid substantial road now 
 reached from Denver far into the huge portal of the Great 
 Hills, laid with eighty-pound steel, and every culvert 
 and bridge of steel and concrete construction. 
 
 Theodore Dodge and Colorado Steel furnished! the 
 rails and structural steel, and broken slag from Plant 
 B, an ideal material for the purpose, was used to ballast 
 the road from the city to the foothills. 
 
 The workmen were having a tough time of it in the 
 Pass. Desperately rugged country. Every mile of road 
 costing a fortune. The roadbed for a considerable dis 
 tance was located far above the level of the creek, cross 
 ing and recrossing the stream several times, and in the 
 supreme effort for grade, coiling itself up in the narrow 
 denies of the canon like a great boa-constrictor, with its 
 high reared head resting on the crest at Rollins Pass, 
 at an altitude of 11,660 feet above the level of the sea, 
 where it crossed the Continental Divide to descend the Pa 
 cific Slope. 
 
 The many contractors were making a grand fight of it, 
 
 469
 
 470 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 however, clearing the right-of-way of timber; biting off 
 a huge granite ledge here ; making a dizzy fill there ; and 
 driving short tunnels thru the numerous sharp pro 
 jecting spurs of the mountains. Bridge men, too, were 
 dropping great spans of steel across the deep ravines and 
 piling up lofty trestles over the wide gulches. While 
 at the very last station, far up on a giant buttress of the 
 snow-capped James, a sturdy gang of rock men were 
 blasting a tunnel thru the peak itself. 
 
 Two and one half miles of solid granite faced these 
 stout red-shirted fellows, but when completed, the trains 
 of the Short Line would roll thru the long bore from the 
 Atlantic to the Pacific slope. This tunnel was designed 
 with an almost level grade and perfectly straight align 
 ment; and when finished, it was expected that one could 
 stand at the east portal on a sunny day and discern a 
 faint speck of daylight shining in at the west portal of 
 the bore. 
 
 Standish had many other things to rejoice over this 
 same gladsome spring. He had delivered an ultimatum 
 to the C. C. & U. Ry. officials, regarding a certain pros 
 pective branch line which he intended to build into the 
 Clear Creek country and on to Plume, to connect with the 
 main line of the Short Line at a point a few miles 
 east of the James. Startled by the prospect of this near 
 competition, the C. C. & U. officials proposed to haul 
 the ores of the 40 Rounds, and all other traffic of the 
 region at the very lowest figures consistent with honest 
 profit; a proposition Standish had accordingly accepted, 
 signing up an agreement to that effect and abandoning 
 his branch line project until such time as the C. C. & U. 
 might choose to again raise its rates. 
 
 David Moore all this time was having a great hide-and- 
 seek game with the Yellow-bellies. 
 
 James Equitable Hide, the president of the great New 
 York assurance society which owned the nine-storied 
 building of which the National First occupied the cor 
 ner street floor, having come from New York on pur 
 pose to interview uncle Davy about this Short Line matter. 
 
 "Confound this independent Colorado and Montana
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 471 
 
 outfit anyhow," thought Jimmy as he left New York, 
 "Here we had everything fixed up all right in Western 
 railroad affairs. Jimmy Hill, Eddie Harriman, Georgie 
 Gould, Harry Moore, and the rest of us had it all framed 
 up, arid now those impudent cusses of the Great Divide are 
 building railroads of their own." 
 
 Three days later Jimmy Hide called on uncle Davy 
 in Denver, having made up his mind not to mince mat 
 ters one bit, the New York Yellow-bellies having 
 insisted that he play his hand to the limit. 
 
 The great assurance society of which Jimmy was the 
 president and chief sport, owned in the neighborhood of 
 twenty-five millions of Yellow-belly stocks and bonds; 
 and Jimmy fancied that a healthy, active, competitive 
 line from Denver to Salt Lake would cut deeply into the 
 profits of these investments. Besides, Jmmy's pious 
 straight-laced widow and orphan protective institution, 
 owned $100,000.00 worth of the stock of National First, 
 and Jimmy felt that he had a perfect right to call uncle 
 Davy pretty hard with all this backing, especially as he 
 recalled the fact that the gently protecting, tenderly shield 
 ing angel of the widows and orphans, the trade graft 
 mark and chief sucker gatherer of the Society, would 
 never stand for the sacred banqueting funds of the So 
 ciety to be placed in the slightest jeopardy. 
 
 He found uncle Davy clean and fresh shaven and in 
 an excellent humor from his morning romp with little 
 Peter. After cordially shaking hands Jimmy seated him 
 self, and lighting a cigarette, said, thru the cloud of 
 smoke, and with that gravely responsible air of one who 
 has the cares of thousands of helpless orphans and widows 
 upon his shoulders: 
 
 "Davy, do you know that you folks have got to cut 
 out this Short Line project. I tell you it won't do. You 
 certainly must know as a director and a large policy 
 holder in our Society, that it owns in the neighborhood 
 of twenty-five millions of the stocks and bonds of West 
 ern railroads, and how can you reconcile that investment 
 with the introduction of another competing line from 
 Denver to Salt Lake, when there are already two good
 
 472 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 lines in the territory? Won't do I say, Davy, the interests 
 of the Society won't stand for it. Er-r, we'll let you go 
 ahead and build the road into the Springs, and let you 
 make a local road of it; but we won't let you invade the 
 Salt Lake territory, you might as well make up your 
 mind to that." 
 
 Now David was not in the least disturbed by the ir 
 ruption of this fast and furious cigarette smoke-blowing 
 and dictatorial young Gothamite, for he replied coolly as 
 he himself joined the sm/oke fest by lighting a Havana. 
 
 " Jimmy, the Salt Lake Short Line is going to be built 
 right smack thru from the union depot in Denver to the 
 union depot in Salt Lake City, just as sure as you are 
 sitting in that chair. And you can tell the lads back 
 home that our people mean business and that we're 
 going to hold the line of the Rockies until they are 
 ready to come in and play fair." 
 
 " Don't you ever doubt for a moment, Jim," he con 
 tinued earnestly, pointing to a large map of Colorado, 
 Wyoming, and Utah, which hung on the wall over his 
 desk, "that just as long as we can raise a dollar that we're 
 going to let this great undeveloped streak of Colorado, 
 Wyoming, and Utah, wait any longer for a railroad. Do 
 you realize, my dear boy, that the territory I am speaking 
 of, has an area of nearly sixty thousand square miles, 
 or as large as the whole state of New York with New 
 Jersey thrown in, and nearly every mile of which will pro 
 duce something for a railroad to carry? Now listen, 
 Jimmy, I don't care a darn who owns the road after I 
 build it, ifs the building of the road that I care for, see? 
 Why, my dear boy, either Mr. Gould, Mr. Harriman, or 
 Mr. Hill would be tickled to death to get hold of it after 
 it's done. In fact, it's almost a mortal cinch that they 
 will, and they ought to be mighty darn glad that uncle 
 Davy's taken the trouble to build it. As for the So 
 ciety and you, Jimmy, if you know a good thing when 
 you see it, I'll let you in on the deal for old acquaintance 
 sake. Here look this over," he added, handing him 
 the original subscription list of the Short Line's stock 
 and bond issue, some three millions of which had already
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 473 
 
 been subscribed by some of the most substantial men of 
 Colorado, Boston, Baltimore, Philadelphia, and Berlin. 
 
 "Now, Jimmy," continued David blandly, "I've got 
 just a million's worth of these bonds picked out for you, 
 your friends, and the Society; and with them I will pre 
 sent you with stock of the Denver, Northwestern, and 
 Salt Lake, to the amount of $250,000.00 or just twenty- 
 five per cent of the face value of the bonds, a generous 
 bonus which I have long laid asigle for you and your 
 friends. This is a fine proposition for you, Jimmy, for 
 the bonds are as good as gold, and the stock is pure 
 cream. The Short Line is bound to make heavy profits 
 where the Rio Grande and Union Pacific can't pay the 
 interest on their bonds so far as thru traffic is concerned, 
 and as for local traffic, that was assured before we laid 
 a rail. But then, the issue will never get that far, Jimmy, 
 for I'm just as certain as I am that I'm building the road, 
 that the gang will own the road by the time it's built. For, 
 as I said before, getting it built, is the thing with me. 
 Putting this great undeveloped territory in touch with the 
 world. You can explain all this to the gang when you get 
 back home, and it's dollars to cents, Jimmy, that they'll 
 pat you on the back and say, 'Well done.' Why, Jimmy, 
 we've got a world-beater in this proposition, and it's up 
 to you now as to whether you take the goods or not. 
 Come what do you say?" he added with rare good 
 humor, his eyes twinkling merrily. 
 
 " Er-r, well, blamed if I don't take the stuff, Dave," 
 said James after a short pause, "But I say, old boy, you'll 
 have to coach me up some as to what to say to the gang 
 when I get back, for I know they'll kick like the devil." 
 
 "All bosh, Jimmy, you know they're bluffers from way 
 back, and they never have fooled uncle Davy and never 
 will. Just just tell 'em, uncle Davy's building a short 
 line where it's darned badly needed and they can have it 
 when it's done if they're going to get sore about it. That's 
 all there is to it, Jimmy, come, let's go to lunch."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 There were quite a number of famous visitors to the 
 United States in the fall of 1902. 
 
 The sudden victorious sweep of American arms in the 
 Spanish war and the great American commercial invasions 
 of 1900-01, had shaken the Old World to its very social 
 and commercial foundations. 
 
 "What manner of people are these impudent, form- 
 soorning, invention-breeding, New Continentalists ?" was 
 Asia and Europe's insistent query. 
 
 "We must send our most intelligent observers over to 
 this marvelous, steadily paunch-growing Uncle Sam, 
 'and learn the rare secret of his unbounded prosperity." 
 
 So one by one they came, these fierce mustachios and 
 huge flowing red beards of marveling Europe and Asia. 
 
 The first to attract attention being that illustrious cit 
 izen of France, Monsieur Alphonso D'Bloodsausage, who 
 after spending six months in the States, returned to the 
 Land of the Lilies to whisper triumphantly in the ear 
 of the deep secret minister: 
 
 " I know I know, my dear Gaston. NEWSPAPERS ! 
 That is it. W r onderful sheets made up by specialists of 
 every kind and description, and every American reads 
 them religiously. In the morning he reads. By noon he 
 is thinking seriously. By night he has made up his 
 mind, and the next day he does. Ah ! Yes, My dear Gaston. 
 The newspapers, that is the secret of zee Uncle Sam's beeg 
 fat stomach." 
 
 Lord Chopface Oxheart of England also spent three 
 months in the States, traveling incognito with a small 
 party of friends. Not long after his return he had an 
 audience with the king. In reply to his Majesty's in 
 quiries as to the cause of Uncle Sam's remarkable pros 
 perity, he said: 
 
 "MANUFACTURES, your Majesty, manufactures. 
 
 475
 
 476 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Manufacturing plants springing up all over the whole 
 United States. Millions readily invested in one single in 
 dustry. Matches all made by one gigantic concern. 
 Sugar, biscuit, leather, oil, and many other industries, 
 each merged into a great combine of its own, capable 
 thru a wonderful economic arrangement, of crushing 
 out competition in its particular line in almost any part 
 of the world. Quite wonderful, your Majesty, these 
 clever Yankee cousins of ours have achieved giant com 
 binations, compared to which our great Hudson Bay and 
 East Indian companies are mere babes." 
 
 A Russian grand duke paid the United States a visit this 
 same notable season. When he returned to St. Peters 
 burg and reported to the Illustrious Czar of all the Rus- 
 sias, he imparted to his Majesty with great positiveness, 
 his version of this wonderful baffling secret of Uncle Sam's 
 paunch-growing. 
 
 "PUBLIC SCHOOLS, your Sacred Supremenfess. Won 
 derful! A schoolhouse in almost every township of the 
 whole United States." 
 
 But Oh! Naughty, naughty grand duke. Did he tell 
 his sire of his cutups with me pretty chorus ladies 
 of the Dearman theatre in Chicago, or his interesting 
 sessions with the Hold-me-tight-Love-me-much Opera 
 girls in dizzy Gotham? Ah! The noble grand duke 
 nearly abdicated his Russian high mightiness in those 
 two charming soirees. But perhaps it was just as well, 
 for poor grand duke must soon depart for the wars; and 
 perhaps too, for the arms of the Geisha girls. 
 
 Asia also sent blooded and titled representatives to the 
 States in 1902. One in the person of the crown prince 
 of Siam, who sailed for home with the full and certain 
 conviction, that Uncle Sam's portliness was caused by his 
 vast network of RAILROADS. 
 
 Siamese crown prince like Russian grand duke also 
 had several neat bouts with American chorus girls. And 
 rumor says, "That each and every one of the feminine 
 gender of the royal herd of elephants now wear garters, 
 of a style decidedly Americanesque."
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 477 
 
 A representative of the Sultan slipped thru the States 
 from Boston to San Francisco. Returning to the Bos 
 porus, he was pleased to assure his Majesty, that the great 
 secret of American prosperity was PATENTS. 
 
 "New guns, locomotives, telegraph and telephone sys 
 tems. Typesetting machines that do everything but 
 talk. Harvesting machines, that cut the waving crop from 
 the stubble and turn the threshed grain into satks ready 
 for market and the straw in shapely stacks ready for 
 feeding. Patents, your Royal Highness. The wonderful 
 inventions of these still more wonderful Yankees." 
 
 Thus our various Asiatic and European cousins gave 
 their different interpretations of America's sudden great 
 ness. While they spoke the truth somewhat, they did not 
 tell it all. 
 
 Newspapers, manufactures, public schools, railroads, 
 patents? 
 
 Very good, foreign inspectors of the great Red, White 
 and Blue nation. 
 
 But there is something still more wonderful back of all 
 these lesser wonders. Indeed! A very wonderful thing, 
 yet as old as man himself, and which is largely summed 
 up in the masterful ascendancy of these goodly United 
 States of America in the year of our Lord 1902. 
 
 Yes, back of all these most worthy characteristics of 
 healthfully growing America, is a far greater thing. 
 
 The vital thing. 
 
 It is the FIRST PLAYER of the THEATRE TER 
 RIBLE. 
 
 The supreme Player of the American National Soul. 
 
 The versatile master of the National Stage, who has of 
 late displayed himself in a vast and impressive reper 
 toire of National soul dramas. 
 
 This first and most Illustrious Player of the Sublime 
 Stage is GENIUS. 
 
 Genius, the divine, the infinite inspirer, fruit producer 
 and gatherer of America's Great National Soul. 
 
 Genius is the great builder. The undaunted daring 
 architect; the marvelous constructionist.
 
 478 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Genius, the master workman. The supreme DOER. 
 
 Yes, but what is back of Genius? 
 
 THOUGHT. 
 
 Yes, back of Genius is Thought. 
 
 But what is back of Thought? 
 
 The INFINITE. 
 
 Yes, but Thought and Genius are slowly conquering the 
 Infinite. 
 
 Correct, and then what? 
 
 What lies back of the Infinite? 
 
 Softly, gentle reader. 
 
 Speak the sacred name most contritely, with holiest 
 reverence. 
 
 Gaze upward as the sacred name is breathed. Invoke 
 the stars to softly witness and be still in the bosom of sol 
 itude. For back of the Infinite, is the GREAT ETER 
 NAL GOD! 
 
 Naught else. 
 
 Thought finite. Thought infinite. 
 
 And back of thought Infinite, is the divine presence 
 of the Almighty, Gracious, FATHER. 
 
 Some glorious pasan-singing day as Genius storms the 
 last battlement of the awful Infinite, he will suddenly be 
 hold within the gates, the more awful, supremely awful 
 and terrible presence of the Great Immaculate Father, who 
 has waited for all the ages, to smile upon and embrace that 
 first of his children whose genius has penetrated the In 
 finite and on into His all-embracing celestial HEART. 
 
 This is America's great secret, beloved African, Asiatic, 
 and European brethren. Its great national soul, nour 
 ished by the well springs of all humanity, soars swift 
 upon the wings of Time. 
 
 Ah ! Genius, heaven endowed, creation-breathing spirit, 
 mount thy chariot and scourge these hardy Mericans to 
 still greater deeds, swifter, truer progress. 
 
 Fill this great teeming multitude of states with thy 
 loud inspiring trumpetings. 
 
 Charge with demon fury the battlements of the Great 
 Unknown, to rend the mystin veil and find the Holy 
 Grail.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 479 
 
 Split the rocks of Ignorance with thy mighty blows, 
 and toss sweet thoughts abroad to scent the breeze with 
 Hope. 
 
 Vindicate and celebrate our free Democracy. Prov 
 ing it fruitful soil, producing the much and most yearned 
 for fruit that the Lord of the Harvest desires SOULS. 
 Sweet souls. That blessed crop for which the world is 
 only a field, and the universe itself a mere plantation. 
 
 On Genius, prove us roaring, thundering, grinding 
 giants of Power ; and yet, sweet tender maids of Love. 
 
 Prove us resistless, shattering blow-strikers of devastat 
 ing, surging War ; and yet, soft, dove-like singers of Peace, 
 piping with the morn-bedewed larks, glory and repose. 
 
 Prove us eaters of Fire, swallowing and belching forth 
 red, lurid flames of Destruction, gnawing down the crags 
 and spewing the mountains; and, too, filled with 
 powers and forces universal as is our Immortal Sire, let 
 us stretch o'er the hot land as a sun-kissed cloud, and 
 reaching down, lave it with shining dews. 
 
 We Mericans must endeavor, must pray, must fast, 
 must walk in strict humility. Must, as children of the 
 Blessed One, holding in our hands both the lightning and 
 the palm, entreat the Most High God to reveal that Des 
 tiny, He decreed in the Beginning and which we must 
 faithfully fulfill unto the End. 
 
 Genius cultivates, produces fruit, supremely vindicates 
 those powers universal which kins man with the Uni 
 versal Sire. 
 
 Sloth ridicules, enervates, dry-rots the life-budding bulb 
 of Genius. 
 
 No man can idly sit and refuse to heed the master of 
 his soul. That passionate, bursting, dynamic life force of 
 his true, his inner nature, which demands outward ex 
 pression. That dark, yet satiny shining, life-bursting 
 bulb of Genius, which when deep rooted in the soul, 
 endeavors to thrust its green sprouts vigorously upward 
 and out into the world, to bud and blossom, to grow a 
 wondrous flower. To nobly die at last, exalted in the 
 sight of worshipping man, and gloriously vindicating 
 the Great Father who gave it life.
 
 480 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Genius, the great DOER. 
 
 We are astonished at what Lord Bacon contemplated. 
 But we are thrilled by what Shakespeare actually DID. 
 
 Victor Hugo dreamed of hundreds of masterpieces, 
 but he is only known to us by the works he actually 
 materialized. 
 
 The greatest problem of life which confronts the in 
 dividual, is to discover, Genius; the universal, the god 
 element within his soul; and to develop that element to 
 its greatest perfection, to give it the highest expression. 
 To cultivate the tree, and grow upon it the finest fruit. 
 
 Genius, the HEALTH BEARER. 
 
 That element of mind which bears the finest fruit 
 within the grandest and most healthful soul. 
 
 Socrates, Diocletian, Goethe, Hugo, Spencer, Bryant. 
 Ripe, magnificent, hoary old age of great soul-fruit pro 
 ducers. 
 
 Genius, the MASTER SANITY. 
 
 Confucius, Elijah, Jesus Christ, Dante Alighiere, 
 Michaelangelo Buonarroti, Spinoza, Swedenborg; all 
 sane, undaunted soul-fruit producers, treading unmoved 
 among dribbling head-pointing generations declaring 
 them mad. 
 
 Genius, the First and Most Illustrious Player of the 
 Theatre Terrible, sings his song, carves his statue, rears 
 his temple, founds his empire; and having garnered the 
 fruit, stretches out upon the greensward, the white cover 
 let, the yellow sands, in the still hush of death. And as 
 his red blood gushes forth he looks up at his Maker and 
 smiles. 
 
 By this glorious fruit growing he is nobly vindicated. 
 Immortality flowers his tomb. His work is done. The 
 God spirit that was in him is vindicated. That spirit 
 universal, which alone has added to human progress, 
 Genius, the God spirit in man; for human progress is 
 ever veered toward its Creator, and Life is but the road
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 481 
 
 which the creature travels in its endeavor to reach and 
 bless and kiss the hand that gave it existence. 
 
 Ah! Genius, the grave may close over your crumbling 
 clay, but you have gone on singing under the arches of 
 the stars. 
 
 Like the great martyr of Kansas and Harper's Ferry, 
 your soul goes marching on. 
 
 " John Brown's body lies a mould'ring in the grave, 
 But his soul goes marching on." 
 
 Oh, Thou, Most Gracious Heavenly Father. 
 Hear the vast chorus of America's all-the-world children 
 singing the glorious refrain. 
 
 " Glory, glory Hallelujah, as we go marching on." 
 
 Genius, the VINDICATOR! 
 
 The one everlasting assurance to man that God hath 
 kissed his soul, and bid him rise on wings of glory. 
 
 Genius,, with whom, staggering, suffering, mocked and 
 bleeding Man can walk serenely on alone and unfalter 
 ing, when all the world's against. 
 
 Genius, the unconquerable spirit of God's most glor 
 ious creature, MAN! ! !
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 Solomon Guggenhone was at the Brown Palace again. 
 With him was the son of an ex-secretary of the United 
 States Navy, Percival Leonidas Whitless, if you please, one 
 of Gotham's "400," and of a certain notoriety as the 
 owner of a great stud of race-horses, for the maintenance 
 of which Solly was to show him where to invest some 
 two millions of Papa Whitless' money. 
 
 Also came Horace Beanpole Smith, another of the 
 "400" New York solitaires. This young hopeful was 
 noted for his wonderful line of fancy vests, he employed 
 a valet just to keep a safe grip on this notoriety. He had 
 already put something like a million of his papa's money 
 into the stock of American Smelter, and the investment 
 having paid a good dividend, it would enable him to keep 
 up this fancy vest expenditure indefinitely. Smithy, too, 
 was preparing himself to fall under the persuasive powers 
 of Solly, to invest another million or so of papa's coin in 
 the Guggenhone Ex-sport-stay-tion Company, a concern 
 recently organized by these smelter kings apparently for 
 the express purpose of giving these young and tender buds 
 of the "400," a chance to exercise and try out a few of 
 their papa's millions. 
 
 My! What bully exercise this new scheme proposed 
 to give a snorting prancing million dollars. 
 
 To throw it into a great silver mine down in old Mexico, 
 run a huge hoisting plant and mill, and connect the 
 whole institution with a main line of travel and a smelter. 
 And last and best of all, provide a place where every year 
 or so Papa's boys could run out on their "Millionaire Spec 
 ial" not forgetting their traveling cigarette factory 
 look at all of it, and imagine as the wheels turned round, 
 what wonderful financiers they had become. 
 
 483
 
 484 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 " Little Jack Homer, 
 He sat in a corner, 
 Eating a Christmas pie. 
 He stuck in his thumb, 
 And pulled out a plum, 
 Saying, What a BIG boy am I." 
 
 Solly had another of Papa's boys on this little jaunt. 
 Little Freddie Alderney from Boston. Now Freddie war- 
 noted for his dozen or so automobiles, Red Devils, Blue 
 Devils, White Ghosts, Crimson Flyers, Bachelor Buttons, 
 Curling Irons and the like. 
 
 My ! But the Alderneys were great auto chasers, Fred 
 die's papa being engaged at this time upon his autobiog 
 raphy, which would soon appear in print in a very ex 
 clusive and limited edition of red levant and gold, 
 and containing scores of portraits of a long line of Puri 
 tan ancestors. From advance sheets rendered the press, 
 this elaborate work apparently tried to prove that the 
 Alderneys not only landed at Plymouth Rock, but had 
 actually, in a bygone stone age, placed the rock there in 
 answer to a direct command from the spirit of history. 
 
 This string of Papa's Boys which Solly had thus enticed 
 into the wild and woolly West, were graduates of Yale, 
 Harvard and Princeton; and all of them were admitted 
 "blue-stockings" and thorobred aristocrats; i. e., except 
 Solly himself. For altho Solly was a Harvard man, yet he 
 laid no claim to ancestral importance, except that of being 
 the son of an honest, shrewd Jew, really the best of recom 
 mendations to those who know the history of the martyred 
 race. Happily, however, Solly may advance in the estima 
 tion of Papa's Boys, and perhaps in a few years, such 
 being the remarkable development of American ancestry, 
 the name of Guggenhone will be formally placed upon 
 the log-book of the good ship Mayflower by order of the 
 Immaculate and Sky-blue Society of American Hen-set 
 ters and Ham-clammers. 
 
 Should this event never happen, the Jew is perfectly 
 content to allow the sole custody of American ancestry
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 485 
 
 to Papa's Boys, if he is allowed the custody of the cash 
 box. 
 
 He need not worry as to ancestry, knowing he was one 
 of the most glorious parts of the past, and, too, he believes 
 in the great TODAY. In that deed and dollar today, 
 which grasped immediately, NOW, is a great deal better 
 than a million dead ones of yesterday. Also it can be truly 
 affirmed, that the Jew's strenuously living up to date, TO 
 DAY, largely accounts for the glorious immortality of his 
 past. Any race, working fairly and squarely in Time's 
 insistent collar, will always have an immortal past. 
 
 Percival Leonidas Whitless, you and your Papa's Boys 
 Romans may puff your gold-tipped cigarettes and get 
 shaved twice a day in the famous "Millionaire Special" 
 that carries you so swiftly from New York to El Paso, 
 ' but, meantime, don't forget that our little Jew, Solly, and 
 his like, is the coming man of America. 
 
 He is the great Today man who will lead the American 
 Nation to a great Tomorrow. 
 
 The Jew is the great king of business. 
 
 Israel, Phoenicia, Rome, Venice. 
 
 The history of Spanish Aragon and Castile. The rec 
 ord of Moorish Granada and Cordova. The gay gallants 
 of both the Spaniard and the Moor riding to glory on the 
 back of the Jew, but that Jew, dressed in rich damask and 
 satin and almost outshining royalty itself in pomp and 
 luxury; indeed, could outshine it, if he was not too near 
 the dogs and wolves of tyranny. 
 
 England, too, with France, Austria, Prussia and Rus 
 sia. All empires of the Jew, and he is King Business in 
 them as far as he thinks it possible without exciting jeal 
 ousy and consequent persecution. 
 
 But ah! Here in America is the land for Judah. 
 
 Hear these brave words of the brilliant Denver Rabbi 
 Friedman, in answer to the Zionists: 
 
 " Jerusalem? What do we want of Jerusalem when we 
 are here in this great and liberty-loving United States of 
 America. Here, where we are the equals of all and the 
 serfs of none. Here, where we have a country, and
 
 486 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 praised be the Lord God of Israel, we have a flag. And 
 that flag the ensign of a free and independent people, 
 and one we ourselves helped to raise, with our blood and 
 our bone and our flesh and our sinew. A great banner 
 of glorious stars and stripes which represents every prin 
 ciple and every virtue and every loved thing that our 
 fathers fought for thru all the ages of suffering and mar 
 tyred Israel. Why, friends, we live no longer in a Prom 
 ised Land, but rather in the Real and Present Land of 
 widest freedom and highest mounting civilization. How 
 goodly are thy tabernacles, Jacob. Praised be the name 
 of the Most High God of Israel."
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 Solomon had three special objects in this visit to the 
 mountain metropolis. 
 
 First, to perfect his legal residence in Colorado, main 
 tained for several years by visiting the Silver State for a 
 few days annually. 
 
 A citizen of Colorado. 
 
 Ump ! One of those Coloradoans who live in New York 
 three hundred and fifty days of the year, devoting ten 
 days in transit between Gotham and Denver, and spend 
 ing the remaining five days at the Brown Palace. But 
 who can blame Solly? For this legal residence idea and 
 magic name of Coloradoan helps to sell American Smel 
 ter to the Papa's Boys back East ; gives Solly lots of time 
 to devote to his ever dear and rapidly aging papa and 
 mama and his beloved and tried and true six brothers, 
 and also allows Solly to bustle around a bit in Colorado 
 politics, especially in the mill of the United States sen- 
 atorship, in which corporations somehow feel so interested 
 these late and strenuous years. 
 
 Second object of Solly's visit; to help dedicate a new 
 addition to the National Jewish Home for poor consump 
 tives, which Solly, papa Mayer, and several other rich 
 and earnest Jews endowed and built in Denver for the 
 care of poor unfortunates. A most worthy and com 
 mendable object of Solly's, showing another admirable 
 side of the Jew. 
 
 Third object of Solly: to see and interview Standish 
 Brown. 
 
 The four years' contract which Standish had made 
 with Jonathan Strong would expire in a few weeks, and 
 the House of Guggenhone is worried about it. Bad ru 
 mors afloat on the "Street" of a new smelting combine, 
 directly after Papa Guggenhone's seventy-fifth birthday, 
 a notable event celebrated by a grand family reunion, and 
 
 487
 
 488 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the presentation of a clever comedy sketch by a score or 
 more of Papa Mayer's grandchildren, entitled "U Ketch 
 'Em and I Skin 'Em," a parody on the ways of AVall 
 Street. New Yorkers laughed about it the next day when 
 it came out in the papers. A clever thing, undoubtedly, 
 and true to the life of the " Street." The title sounds as 
 tho it might be a genuine Yankee production. Tom Platt 
 could easily have written the "U Ketch 'Em" part, while 
 uncle Russell Sage might easily have added the "I Skin 
 'Em." However, the playlet was really written by one of 
 Solly's clever relatives as a warning to the youngsters to 
 beware of the dog of "Wall Street." 
 
 Leaving the Papa's Boys to their gold-tipped cigarettes 
 and to do the town in one of Fred Alderney's latest auto 
 mobiles, Solly proceeded to make his call on Standish 
 Brown. 
 
 He had looked forward with some interest to this inter 
 view, having anticipated an unsatisfactory conversation 
 with one of those unreasonable, egotistical, so-called self- 
 made men, who are usually prejudiced against everything 
 and anything which bears the slightest evidence of col 
 lege gown or cap. 
 
 To his great surprise, however, he found himself facing 
 one of the most agreeable and pleasant countenances that 
 he had ever looked upon. The young Jew felt that there 
 was a tremendous power about this tall, earnest fellow ; a 
 personality worthy of careful analysis. No sham, no 
 estheticism, no untruth, and absolutely no taint of the 
 deadly American-dollar instinct. He intuitively felt that 
 those clear, calm eyes looking so seriously into his, were 
 the windows of a noble soul ; and assured by the smiling 
 reception which the mine owner extended him, Solomon 
 went at his work with characteristic vigor. 
 
 He talked a new contract straight from the shoulder, 
 but as he finished and looked up with questioning eyes to 
 note the result, he observed a faint antagonistic glitter in 
 Standish's eyes that bade him pause. 
 
 That glitter was far above the dollar sign, carrying with 
 it a subtle force that struck back at him with deadly
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 489 
 
 power. Solomon had never encountered this peculiar 
 force before, and, being an adept in the ways of human 
 nature, he began its immediate analysis. It did not take 
 him long. The six brothers of the House of Guggenhone 
 had made no mistake when they picked Solomon, the 
 seventh brother, to study and examine men necessary to 
 the success of their enterprises. And this was the line 
 that Solomon got on Standish Brown. 
 
 His was the stern defiance which a righteous, incor 
 ruptible soul gave the suave emissary of a cold-blooded, 
 clammy-tentacled, life-sucking Trust monster, which had 
 crept into the bright sunshine land of Colorado and built 
 its lair. 
 
 To Solomon, who had ever been accustomed to drop in 
 on a man, say a few words to the point, and quickly ac 
 complish his ends, this subtle, smiling defiance of Stand- 
 ish's was a revelation. He felt a power darting from those 
 clear Puritan eyes which struck fire in his own, and as 
 with the rapid play of flashing swords, the sparks flew in 
 showers. Happily tho, Solomon had a warm spot in his 
 heart for the Puritan. He had not forgotten the noble 
 association of Jew and Puritan in those old days when 
 Cromwell opened up the hospitable gates of England to 
 the unhappy wanderers from Spain and Portugal. This 
 warm feeling of Solomon's made him quietly and gently 
 tolerant, and he closed the presentation of his case sin 
 cerely and almost warmly. 
 
 A long pause ensued. Standish, having partially swung 
 his chair around, was looking out of the window far over 
 the roofs and housetops of the city, into the sky-line of the 
 blue and brown hills to the west, and over which a hue 
 of fresh green was slowly creeping, for the young aspens 
 under the rays of the warm spring sun were springing up 
 by the millions on the mountain sides. From his office 
 window, too, in the ninth story of the building, Standish 
 could see the entrance of Clear Creek Gulch, distinctly 
 marked by a column of vaporous white smoke issuing 
 from the stack of the smelter at Goldie which was treat 
 ing the ores of the 40 Rounds. Finally, turning toward
 
 490 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Solomon from his rather rude spell of abstraction, he said 
 kindly but firmly : 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, when my contract with your con 
 cern expires, I shall begin smelting myself; I would have 
 done so three years ago had I not got bound up in this 
 contract thru the treachery of John Charles Rose." 
 
 Solomon smiled pleasantly, saying : 
 
 "I trust, Mr. Brown, that you fully understand the 
 magnitude of the proposition you are about to undertake. 
 For I can assure you that it is only by exercising the 
 greatest care and economy that our own organization is 
 enabled to make an honest return on the capital invested." 
 
 " Yes, but honest now, Mr. Guggenhone, how much is 
 your capital stock watered?" was the quiet rejoinder. 
 
 Solomon did not flinch, and with admirable self-con 
 trol he replied: 
 
 "Well, even if there is some water in it, it is not so 
 much that it would require the qualifying of my first re 
 mark to any appreciable degree, Mr. Brown." 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone," replied Standish almost reproach 
 fully, "After the most careful investigation, I am satis 
 fied that of the entire fifty-five million of the capital 
 stock issue of the American Smelter Co., fully two-thirds 
 of it is nothing but water; and its stock, selling today at 
 par or better, isn't really worth more than thirty-five 
 cents. Now, I don't intimate in this statement that it's 
 the fault of the promoters of the concern, nor do I intend 
 it as a reflection on the House of Guggenhone; for all I 
 know they might have been inveigled into paying ex 
 travagant sums for the different concerns which made up 
 the merger. But I do say that the stock is worth only 
 about one-third the daily quotations in the open market. 
 I can also say with hearty appreciation that none but a 
 remarkable group of men could hold the concern together 
 and make it pay dividends; altho I take the liberty to 
 add, that I expect to see the thing either collapse in the 
 face of severe competition or else suffer a marked shrink 
 age in value." 
 
 Now, Solomon was an adept in one of the most valuable
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 491 
 
 moves in the game of diplomacy, and that is to know 
 when to quit, and smiling good-humoredly at the some 
 what insistent mine owner, he said quietly: 
 
 " Mr. Brown, I don't believe that I am prepared or 
 empowered to enter into a discussion of the affairs of 
 the American Smelter Co., other than to negotiate a new 
 contract with you, and I trust you will believe me when 
 I say I have every reason to believe it will be of great ad 
 vantage to both parties concerned ; and if you will conde 
 scend to listen to the liberal terms I am empowered to 
 offer I feel you will be very favorably impressed." 
 
 " No ! Most emphatically, no, Mr. Guggenhone. I will 
 entertain no proposition whatsoever from the American 
 Smelter Co. For within five years I expect to see a strong, 
 healthy competitor in the field against your concern. A 
 substantial strictly Western institution, with the inesti 
 mable advantage of having a solid, honest, fully paid up 
 capital stock, owning smelting plants and the necessary 
 auxiliaries of the very latest and improved types worth 
 every dollar the stockholders invest. A concern that will 
 make money where its rival will be handicapped with its 
 watered stock and every dollar invested in its out-of-date, 
 antiquated machinery." 
 
 "Er r, excuse me, Mr. Brown," interrupted the 
 blandly smiling Solomon, as Standish was proceeding in 
 tones considerably enthusiastic, "I really haven't the time 
 to hear you detail a full prospectus of the new rival to the 
 American, so if you will allow me to take my departure 
 for the present, I will try and see you again on the mat 
 ter." 
 
 "Very well, Mr. Guggenhone," replied Standish, smil 
 ing almost sheepishly at his own enthusiasm, " I hope you 
 won't take it to heart that I have unconsciously endeav 
 ored to interest you in the ,new concern. Perhaps per 
 haps," he added good-humoredly and half seriously, "You 
 might want to be leaving the old hulk by that time and 
 be glad to get aboard the new craft." 
 
 "All right, let's leave it that way if you choose, Mr. 
 Brown. In the meantime, let me assure you that it's been
 
 492 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 a great pleasure to meet you, and I hope to record many 
 more such meetings in the future." 
 
 "I reciprocate that sentiment heartily, Mr. Guggen- 
 hone, good day," said Standish as the smelter king rose 
 and extended his hand. 
 
 Solomon left the office of Standish Brown quite dissat 
 isfied with himself, and Papa's Boys did not see much of 
 him that night. He sent several cipher telegrams to his 
 brothers, and the next morning received a batch of replies 
 suggesting that he try Brown on another tack. With no 
 faith, however, in his ability to conform to their sugges 
 tion, he complied with their request sufficiently to inter 
 view Standish again and dutifully lay the matter before 
 him. 
 
 This time he proposed that his concern treat the ores 
 of the 40 Rounds at the very minimum of cost, in fact, 
 leaving the cost of treatment wholly to the mine owner's 
 own sense of fairness and right. But Standish was not 
 to be deceived as to the motive, indeed, there was no doubt 
 in his mind that he could, with a little persuasion, 
 even get the Trust to actually give him a bonus for his 
 ores. The concern could well afford to do this, for he 
 believed its stock would go down with a decided biff-bang 
 once he took hold of the new smelter enterprise with the 
 energy and success he was meeting in the development of 
 the Short Line. Great House of Guggenhone might have 
 a fall. Guggenhone smelter kingship might be ques 
 tioned, perhaps go to smash. 
 
 " Mr. Guggenhone," replied Standish firmly, after Sol 
 omon had laid the matter before him tactfully, "My smel 
 ter is going to be a reality. You fellows were cute, I 
 might say almost disreputable enough, to crowd me out 
 once. But I am not to be denied this time. I am not 
 going to get a brass band and herald the enterprise, but I 
 shall act quietly, decently, and accomplish my ends with 
 due regard to whatever interests are in the field. In fact, 
 I shall be glad to have an active competitor, and shall try 
 my best to win its regard and esteem by all legitimate 
 means. I shall want it to feel that my enterprise is not
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 493 
 
 a mortal enemy, but a friend, sharing a field that is amply 
 large 1p support both. You see, at least I must try and 
 make you see, Mr. Guggenhone, that as a matter of per 
 sonal pride, I shouldn't allow myself either to be coerced 
 by your people as to abandoning my proposed enterprise, 
 or allow them to accept any humiliating terms from me 
 in closing a new contract. There is positively no need of 
 it; the business is of too great importance and covers too 
 large a field for either party to quarrel. It won't be any 
 one's fault particularly if American Smelter drops heavily 
 in the market upon the advent of a rival. People are 
 bound to get a true line on things in course of time. It 
 might as well be one time as another. If the stuff is not 
 worth the money, it's sure to drop, even if it's government 
 bonds, and surely you people will guard yourselves ac 
 cordingly. Now, I hope you won't think me silly, Mr. 
 Guggenhone, when I frankly confess to you that I would 
 undertake this smelter enterprise if I positively knew in 
 advance that I would lose every dollar I possessed on earth. 
 The monopolistic tactics of your concern in Colorado has 
 impressed and inflicted itself so strongly upon me in years 
 past that I am committed to its rebuke body and soul. 
 The very fact that you are here now to attempt to dissuade 
 me from my object, only arouses my most fierce and bit 
 ter antagonism. Mr. Guggenhone, I trust there is one 
 man in Colorado that can't be bought, either by individ 
 ual or Trust. I believe I have certain rights. One of 
 those rights is to own and operate a smelter. Won't the 
 American Smelter Company allow me to exercise that 
 privilege? What does it want, the earth? Say, Mr. Gug 
 genhone," the mine owner added, half seriously, half sar 
 castically, "What is POSSESSION, anyhow? How much 
 should a concern or an individual be allowed to possess 
 before it is admitted that it is working an injury upon 
 the rights of others. At least without arousing, as the 
 machinations of the American Smelter Company has 
 aroused in me, bitter and unrelenting opposition." 
 In spite of his fair and well-balanced ideas as to the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 difference between the college bred and the so-called self- 
 made man, Solomon rather resented the blunt and as he 
 looked upon it at that time egotistical remarks of a man 
 who had scarcely even seen the inside of a college. It 
 was almost that same feeling the regular soldier has 
 toward the volunteer. He, Solomon Guggenhone, was a 
 regular; had seen service, and had been declared amply 
 qualified by a competent board. But the volunteer 
 ump ! had escaped the rigors of the service and the test of 
 the examining board; had led the free butterfly life, and 
 now, at the first surge of a national crisis, poked his im 
 pudent nose into everything; rudely brushed aside the 
 regular-army-o, and calmly proceeded to assure the nation 
 that he would save the day, and be the truth known 
 without prejudice to the tried and true regular he gen 
 erally does. 
 
 Really there should be no question as to supremacy 
 between the college-bred and the self-made man. 
 
 \Vise men from several quarters of the world fell to 
 their knees and worshipped the infant Jesus. The vener 
 able and highly-schooled elders of the Temple were con 
 founded by this same precocious youth. No college life 
 for this lowly Nazarene, only a nobly divine soul endowed 
 with a glorious inheritance, preaching spontaneously un 
 der the blue Judean skies. 
 
 Shakespeare, free romping child of manor and moor. 
 Yet such mighty collegians as Voltaire and Goethe bowed 
 down and worshipped this wandering swain, this inspired 
 bard of Avon. 
 
 The University of Edinburgh educated Thomas Car- 
 lyle, yet this same grand Scot worshipped at the shrine of 
 the unlettered Mohammed, and sang glowing praises of 
 nature-taught Bobbie Burns. 
 
 Victor Hugo, the grand French collegian, falls pros 
 trate at the feet of rough John Brown of Kansas. 
 
 The polished three-hour oration at Gettysburg, by Ed 
 ward Everett, president of Harvard, yields as the night 
 yields to the day to the ten-minute talk of the immortal 
 Lincoln, the awkward plough boy of Kentucky, the rail 
 splitter of Illinois.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 495 
 
 Be not alarmed tho ye worthy college graduates, who 
 ever you are, for the college man fills a noble place in the 
 world, if only to teach the world a just appreciation of 
 the genius and the remarkable inheritances of its unlet 
 tered men and women. 
 
 A volume of Kant won't teach a man to throw a slap 
 jack, and hunger will assert itself once in a while. 
 
 A year at Wellesley or Vassar won't teach the New 
 Woman to quiet the tears of a little papoose, or to re 
 move the moths from the flaxen hair of a little girl's doll. 
 
 The dear old college days are glorious days, Young 
 America,. but there is much to be learned outside of them. 
 And never, never forget, dear collegians, that while you 
 are poring over Blackstone and Marshall, and labori 
 ously absorbing dogma and approved science, some tough 
 young stripling out on the Kansas and Nebraska prairies 
 is learning the master of all the arts and sciences, CREA 
 TION, from the high-soaring stars, the growing wheat 
 and ripening corn, the running brooks, and the dirge of 
 the wild bleak winds ; and last and greatest of all, from the 
 glorious inheritance of a vast storehouse of a soul not 
 crammed with dead and obsolete knowledge or filled with 
 a congestion of useless information and riffraff, which, by 
 reason of its peculiar individual genius, it cannot utilize. 
 
 "Abraham Lincoln read the least, and THOUGHT 
 THE MOST, of anyone I ever knew or read of," is re 
 corded by one of the great Emancipator's closest friends. 
 
 THOUGHT, that's the word. 
 
 Whether in college or out in the rough-and-tumble 
 world. 
 
 But always, and at all times, the world worships at the 
 shrine of the First Player of the Soul, incomparable, 
 GENIUS. 
 
 For in the end it is Genius who invariably tips the 
 scales on either side between the college and the self-made 
 man. 
 
 An individual may get his substance from a dung 
 hill, but if Genius puts its stamp upon him, the world 
 will crown the dunghiller as readily as it will the bright 
 est son of Yale.
 
 496 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 As Solomon Guggenhone sat there facing Standish 
 Brown and revolving in his mind this question as dis 
 cussed above, he dismissed it instantly at the final per 
 sonal remark addressed to him somewhat abruptly by the 
 serious-voiced mine owner, "What is possession?" 
 
 A great light seemed to be flooding his soul. Yes, 
 what, indeed, was this thing he was sacrificing his young 
 life to gain? 
 
 "Possession? Oh! Supreme Master, Lord of all earthly 
 and celestial hosts! What is possession?" 
 
 What is this terrible thing, in the battle for which the 
 life blood of Young America is flowing in broad scarlet 
 rivers? 
 
 This Glut of GET. This Science of Acquisitiveness. 
 This damnable modern business instinct. This almost 
 maniacal propagation of a few paltry thousands into vast 
 unsatisfied millions. This cursed reaching of millions for 
 a coveted billion. 
 
 Possession ! Eternally damned be thy name, when you 
 represent the lascivious clutch, the unscrupulous acquisi 
 tion, and the unholv coveting and hoarding of millions. 
 
 "To Have and to Hold." 
 
 Yea! By the ancient clay gods, "To Hold," even tho 
 we crucify ten thousand meek, rebuking Christs, and 
 starve a million fair breast-suckling babes. 
 
 Solomon Guggenhone made only a conventional reply 
 to Standish Brown's question, and rising abruptly to his 
 feet, he bade him a pleasant goodbye, incidentally remark 
 ing that he would meet him again at a more opportune 
 time. But the balance of the day and for many days 
 thereafter, he saw the handwriting on the wall; far, far 
 above the cigarette smoke of Papa's Boys; and far, far 
 beyond his interest in the flight of the train as it rolled 
 from Denver down into old Mexico. Yes, and far beyond 
 the interest he displayed in showing Papa's Boys the rich 
 silver mines of Dolores, did the brave young Jew wrestle 
 with that supreme problem of a morally inclined rich 
 man, "What is Possession?"
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 497 
 
 Standish Brown having crossed swords with the House 
 of Guggenhonc, the fight was on. 
 
 But thru it all, Genius, the most versatile player of the 
 Sublime Stage, was to display his wondrous art to thosa 
 curious Mericans who were eagerly watching this battle 
 royal in Western smelting affairs. 
 
 Genius plays the double role in souls. 
 
 There is the Genius of Good, the Genius of Evil. 
 
 Christ and Satan. 
 
 The Genius of Day and of Night. 
 
 Sun and Shadow. 
 
 The Genius of two mysteries Birth and Death. 
 
 The Genius of Creation and of Destruction. 
 
 Solomon who builds a Temple. Nebuchadnezzar who 
 destroys it. 
 
 America's millionaires will battle to the death, while 
 America's masses will watch the Titanic battle with 
 breathless awe. 
 
 In that deadly conflict great victories will be achieved; 
 great inventions produced. Great poets will rise to pen 
 the songs of glorious deeds and noble actions. Great sculp 
 tors will spring to life to decorate the tombs of the mighty 
 fallen. 
 
 In this noble land of ours, the genius of the Jew will 
 enter the lists with that of the Puritan. The Slav with 
 that of the Hibernian. The German will continue his 
 ancient Old World rivalry with the Celt, Greek will again 
 meet Greek, Guelf meet Ghibelline; and all the other 
 innumerable races and ancient feudal peoples of the 
 earth will have their fling at the whirlwind, for this 
 America is the human potpourri of the last days of this 
 hoary, staggering, weary-of-it-all world. This swelling 
 and rapidly ripening fruit on the stem of the Universe 
 must needs be plucked by the Lord of Time to deck the 
 banquet board of the Head of Glory. 
 
 But these Masses ! Oh ! Shining and lustrous Head of 
 Glory. These lowly patient Merican masses! Will they 
 not feed on the crusts and crumbs tossed out? Will they 
 not wrap themselves in the garments of the slain, and fire
 
 498 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 their humble hearths with the broken wheels of the 
 crushed and cast-off chariots? 
 
 The unholy, unsatisfied, ennui- jaded Millionaires of 
 America, drunk with conquest and spoil, will fight to 
 their fill and perish in the ruins of their empire. But 
 these vast legions of America's honest toiling Masses will 
 somewhere and somehow in the bosom of the Almighty 
 God roll on forever. They are the golden wheat and tas- 
 seling corn of the garnered World, and the winnowings 
 of God alone are worthy to be stored in the granaries of 
 Eternity. 
 
 In the irresistible sweep of America's Masses, the feeble 
 clutch of America's Millionaires will relax and perish as 
 surely as the mists of night are dispelled by the golden 
 beams of the rising sun. The reign of American Plu 
 tocracy will fade as swiftly as did the hoof-prints of At- 
 tila's steeds upon the fertile plains of Italy. 
 
 And serenely, gloriously above the blood-stained graves 
 of Iniquity and Error, shall rise the tender forms of 
 lilies to scent the breeze with Hope. 
 
 America for the Masses. 
 
 Oblivion for the self-decreed FEW. 
 
 And Genius, thou spirit-winged messenger of God, in 
 all this shall thou glorify our Merican race. 
 
 Genius is the First Player of the Sublime Stage, in 
 that magnificent role which glorifies an illustrious na 
 tion.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 Work was progressing rapidly on the Short Line. On 
 the back of a sturdy cayuse Standish inspected every foot 
 of the right-of-way from the terminal in Denver to the 
 west portal of the last tunnel on the eastern slope of the 
 James, then rode on over Rollins Pass and down the val 
 leys of the Frazer and the Grand into the Springs. Bud 
 Snyder entertained him royally that night, and the next 
 morning accompanied him as he inspected several miles 
 of grade west of the Springs. Camping that night with a 
 grading outfit, he started the next day for Plume, going 
 over Berthoud Pass, via Empire, and catching the even 
 ing train from the latter point to his old home. 
 
 He found the men at the 40 Rounds filling up the big 
 ore crib which had first come into use during the panic of 
 '93. The contract with the American Smelting Co. hav 
 ing recently expired, Standish was storing his product 
 until he could get his smelter affairs in proper shape, for 
 the Short Line being the great factor in his life just then, 
 everything else was sacrificed to advance the road. 
 
 Plume was practically unchanged since he had left it 
 to take up his residence in Denver, with the exception 
 that a few more holes were bored into the sides of the 
 Emerald and the Castle; some of them quite deep, as 
 was evidenced by the goodly piles of rock and waste mat 
 ter on the dumps. He visited the cottage where Fiorina 
 and he had spent their honeymoon. Red Rourke and 
 his numerous progeny occupied it now. In the small 
 back yard he lingered for a moment beside three tiny 
 pebble-covered mounds, marking the graves of Billy, 
 faithful Shep, and Fiorina's canary, Nicca. Shep met a 
 death similar to that of old Peter Brown, crushed by a 
 cave-in in an upper drift of the mine. Billy succumbed 
 to pneumonia, probably induced by the high altitude; 
 
 499
 
 500 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 and tiny caroling Mcca died from sheer old age. Ever 
 since that time the Browns had studiously avoided bring 
 ing pets into their family life, as it seemed to them that 
 the acquisition of a new pet would be but the precursor 
 of a sad funeral. 
 
 The mine owner thoroly enjoyed his day at Plume, 
 filled as it was with memories of the old days. Among 
 other things he descended to the creek where it flowed 
 some five hundred feet below the mouth of the tunnel, 
 and even explored a bit about the debris of the great slide 
 in which was buried the remains of his old cottage with 
 Dad's precious violin and others of his ancient treasures. 
 
 He had intended returning to the city by the late 
 afternoon train, but after thoroly inspecting the great 
 mine which still showed treasure in the various levels, it 
 was too late, so he climbed up the steep ledge far above 
 the mouth of the tunnel, a loving pilgrimage to the great 
 stone cross on the mountain side. 
 
 The clump of pines was a little taller and thicker, and a 
 few more resinous rings told the story of added years 
 of deep snows and wild-wind bufferings. 
 
 Standish knelt beside the grave of his dear old dad long 
 and silently, and reverently pressed his lips to the cross. 
 This communion was very sweet to him. No one near. 
 No sounds save the eternal dirge of the mountain wind 
 among the pines. Naught save the wilderness of Nature 
 and the blessed presence of those innumerable beings 
 springing to life within his soul, loosed by the magic 
 hands of Memory. 
 
 Pulling forth the farewell letter of his father from the 
 slender wallet in his inner coat pocket, he slowly read 
 it, weeping silently as he did so. Presently a great and 
 nameless emotion filled his heart, and upon the Sublime 
 Stage walked a familiar figure. Was it a vision? 
 
 No! It was more than a vision. It was the living 
 presence of Peter Brown, appearing to him just as in 
 the old days, real as life. Even talked in the well-remem 
 bered, honest, hearty tones. 
 
 Ah ! This great play-house of the soul.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 501 
 
 Peter told his boy how proud he was of him. Showed 
 him the Short Line completed, the entire four hundred 
 and some odd miles of shining steel stretching from ter 
 minal to terminal, with a dozen great trains moving over 
 it. Showed him the great new smelter, complete and 
 gloriously impressive, with an enormous stack which quite 
 o'ertopped the mighty chimney of Plant B. Showed 
 his boy all this, laughed and joked, and petted him as 
 he used to long ago; also calling in the tender mother 
 Mary, whose precious form of clay laid away back in 
 Iowa, upon the green and flowering slope of a high hill 
 perched above the purling ripple of the Des Moines. 
 
 Visions, these? No! Realities. 
 
 Ghosts? No! Actualities. 
 
 Merely spiritual forms of beings once existing in mater 
 ial forms. 
 
 Actual, living beings, treading the immortal Stage of 
 the Soul. 
 
 Who would deny the existence of these transcendent 
 creatures ? 
 
 To deny them, is to deny Thought, our greatest truth 
 and fact of existence. 
 
 Descartes, of all the philosophers, proved human exist 
 ence. And how? By Thought alone. "I THINK, there 
 fore I am." 
 
 Listen to benign and heaven-visioned Confucius as 
 he quotes and comments upon an old Tao poem : 
 
 " How they are waving, waving, 
 The blossoming myrtles gay; 
 Do I not think of you, love? 
 Your home is far away." 
 
 The great sage of China, repeating these lines, re 
 marked, " That is because men do not THINK. Why is 
 it far away?" 
 
 Yes, why, when the thing is here, HERE, within the 
 rosy Soul. 
 
 If we deny Thought, we must deny Creation.
 
 502 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 If we deny Creation, we must deny God. 
 
 And who, having a soul and conscious of its mechanics 
 and spontaneities would dare? 
 
 The later St. Peter's existed in this soul-world long be 
 fore Michael Angelo materialized it in stone, bronze and 
 marble. 
 
 The phonograph lived here long before it displayed its 
 wonders to a delighted public. 
 
 John Brown freed the slave here long before the Eman 
 cipation Proclamation of Abraham Lincoln gave him 
 freedom. 
 
 Raphael here beheld and communed with the Madonna 
 and the Divine Infant long before he placed them upon 
 a canvas for the fathers of the Sistine Chapel. 
 
 Verily, the near and new prophet in the regular suc 
 cession of Israel will revolutionize humanity's old ideas 
 of immortality. 
 
 When Standish awoke from the spell of the Play, the 
 sun was riding the edge of the great Peak far in the 
 shining West, one glorious chariot wheel of fire rolling 
 down into Utah upon a pathway of gold. 
 
 The musing man waited until the shadows began to 
 fall, and then, filled with reverence and awe, he strode 
 down the steep trail toward the twinkling lights of Plume. 
 
 At the hotel he was handed the following telegram : 
 
 " Standish Brown, 
 
 "Plume, Colo. 
 
 " You are the father of a little girl. Mother and child doing 
 well. Come at once. " DAVID MOORE."
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 Fiorina's little girl came rather unexpectedly, fully 
 two weeks ahead of the schedule, otherwise Standish 
 would not have left on his tour of inspection. 
 
 Ferrari, however, took the situation bravely in hand, 
 quickly secured the physician and nurse, and the whole 
 affair passed off successfully without the presence of 
 paterfamilias. 
 
 When uncle Davy heard of it, he was the busiest man 
 on Capitol Hill. Kept the wires hot. Wired and 'phoned 
 all day, trying to locate Standish somewhere on the line of 
 the Short Line. 
 
 " D , d , where in the devil is the fool anyway?" 
 
 the nurse had overheard him say to the doctor, " Just to 
 think, Doc, that a man doesn't know enough to be at 
 home when a baby is expected." 
 
 Whew! " Splutter! Fume! How uncle Davy did go 
 on, while old Doc Magan laughed at him till his sides 
 fairly ached. Ferrari and Davy held very grave consulta 
 tions on the rear porch of the Brown mansion every few 
 minutes. Ferrari calmly pulling at the stem of a huge 
 meerschaum, uncle Davy tugging fiercely at his favorite 
 Havanas. 
 
 Great event this. Uncle Davy would give a million 
 dollars in cold cash for the little red-faced newcomer. He 
 didn't go to his office in the National First the whole day. 
 Wouldn't even answer the private telephone call from 
 the bank, which caused Cashier Nichols to rush up in 
 his auto in great alarm. Then when uncle Davy had 
 finally condescended with great seriousness to offer an 
 explanation, Nick looked very stormy at first, but after 
 ward, when the extreme humor of the situation dawned 
 upon him, he laughed like a fool, causing Davy to look 
 at him with utter contempt. 
 
 503
 
 504 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 So the long day passed. Still no word from Standish. 
 Isolated somewhere around the James. Uncle Davy grad 
 ually calming down. Ferrari, gravely philosophical and 
 very happy and proud, too. Fiorina wondering, slyly 
 amused at uncle Davy, and comforting him by showing 
 him the new arrival from under the folds of the blanket 
 by her side. 
 
 It was in this condition at five o'clock that afternoon, 
 that Mrs. Theodore Dodge dawned upon the scene. The 
 Brown's coachman, who was a flame of Henriette, the 
 Dodge's housekeeper, having duly imparted the informa 
 tion to Henriette, and she to her mistress. 
 
 Fiorina looked up at her gratefully as she came into 
 the room sweetly expectant and concerned, and as Fi 
 orina put out her hand Mollie reached down and kissed 
 her affectionately. 
 
 "Oh, Mrs. Dodge, I thought you'd come. How nice 
 of you. See here, just see what I have to show you," she 
 said in her ingenuous, impetuous manner, as she lifted the 
 coverlet where the little one lay sleeping, its tiny red face 
 puckering up tight as the light streamed in. "Meester 
 Brown, him way up to Plume, mebbe Salt Lake," she 
 added dubiously, by way of explanation, "I wish him here, 
 now," she continued as she tucked the coverlet about 
 the infant. 
 
 In Mollie's ,heart there was a world of sentiment. The 
 feeling of a vast mother hunger rushed in on her and 
 she sighed deeply. She who was fated to be childless. 
 She who mas so rich in all that society could yield her, yet 
 so poverty stricken in motherhood. She sat for a long 
 time beside the young Italian mother delighting in her 
 artless innocent prattle, and deeply engulfed in her own 
 retrospections. 
 
 Finally the shadows began to creep into the great west 
 window, from where Fiorina propped up on the pillows, 
 could look at her sleeping babe and far out over the val 
 ley of the Cherry and up at the Great Hills whose shin 
 ing summits were tipped in the beams of the setting sun.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 505 
 
 " Him there. Beeg man over there," she said softly, 
 gazing at Mollie who sat with her hands clasped about her 
 knees looking wistfully out at the scarlet sun banners and 
 the deepening shadows of the dying day. 
 
 "Yes, him there," Fiorina repeated softly, pointing 
 fondly into the distant West. And Mollie understood. 
 Big, awkward Standish Brown. Once so poor, rough, and 
 unknown, and in whose arms she had once deigned to 
 rest. Brave Standish Brown, her hero of Colorado Steel, 
 now so rich in material wealth; now so luxurious in a 
 glorious husbandhood, fatherhood. 
 
 Presently little Peter, who had played with his toy 
 train upon the chamber floor nearly all the afternoon, 
 crept up sleepily into the childless society queen's lap, 
 and hugging him close she gently crooned an old Irish 
 lullaby to him, one that her dear old mother had sung to 
 her in that long ago. Soon the little fellow was asleep. 
 
 The two beautiful women did not speak again for some 
 time. The long day slowly faded on the mountains. The 
 scarlet sun banners died away, a mellow rosy light shone 
 for a few moments from behind the glorious sky-line 
 of the Great Hills, followed by a soft white glow. TEen 
 swift fell the mantling darkness and out tripped the stars; 
 led by lustrous Venus, who beamed like a tiny sun full 
 upon the breast of the western horizon, just above the 
 dark blue sky-line of the mountains. At that instant 
 the electric street lights started up with a sharp hiss 
 and splutter. 
 
 " Doctor to see you, my lady Fiorina," announced the 
 nurse, turning on the current of the tiny night bulb, 
 and rearranging the pillows about her charge's head and 
 shoulders. 
 
 In doing so she glanced sharply at Mrs. Dodge. The 
 sweet faced lady of St. Andrew's, tightly clasping the 
 form of little Peter, was lost in a beautiful dream. Un 
 der the sharp glance of the nurse she slowly awoke, 
 and rising from her chair she carried the sleeping child 
 across the room and laid him upon his own little bed,
 
 506 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 then returning she kissed Fiorina fondly and turned to 
 go. 
 
 " Good night, sweet ladee. Come 'gain tomorrow," 
 Fiorina called after her. 
 
 Mollie did not reply, save to look back and smile re 
 assuringly as she passed thru the door.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 "Standish, you're a darn blithering idiot," such was the 
 greeting which uncle Davy Moore addressed to the General 
 Manager of the Denver, Northwestern, and Salt Lake. 
 
 "Why, yes. Ha! Ha! Ha!" laughed Standish in high 
 glee, as his associate extended his hand and pulled him 
 into the waiting carriage at the station. And as they 
 drove up Seventeenth Street, Davy leaned over to him 
 and said in a much better natured tone : 
 
 "Nicest little thing you ever saw, sonny, looks just 
 like her mother. A regular little Dago, and Old Gari 
 baldi Ferrari is as proud as a peacock. Say, honest now, 
 what you going to name her?" 
 
 "Why, Fiorina, of course, you old inquisitive. Babe 
 and I had that fixed over a year ago. Gee whiz! I I 
 really didn't expect it so soon," he added, blushing like 
 a girl under uncle Davy's admiring eyes. 
 
 David Moore never spent a happier spring than that 
 of 1903. He almost renewed his youth. Altho the 
 financiering and the building of the Short Line was the 
 greatest event of his long and useful career as a loyal 
 Coloradoan, yet it was by no means the most important 
 event chronicled in the depths of his great loving heart. 
 Often in the presence of domestic joys the great world 
 of business fades as a dream. 
 
 At eleven o'clock that night, Standish walked softly 
 from the library into the sacred chamber. 
 
 In this room was his all. This was the bosom of his 
 family. 
 
 Upon the threshold he paused for a moment as if to 
 silently return the salutations of sentinel angels. 
 
 The night bulb was burning dimly, and gently he 
 crept to the side of her who had proved the most blessed 
 of wives. 
 
 507
 
 508 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 She was asleep. Her sweet child face, caressed by her 
 dark luxuriant tresses, was but a little older than when 
 he had first held her in his arms in the dark gray vault 
 of the 40 Rounds, after her miracle-like journey thru 
 the wildness and whiteness of that fearful winter night, 
 and from which she had emerged as his beautiful bride. 
 
 Stooping, he pressed a kiss upon her brow, and as she 
 slowly opened her dark lustrous eyes, and seeing who it 
 was, she reached up and pulled his head down upon her 
 bosom as she had done in that long ago. Releasing him, 
 she turned to the little pile of blanket and fleece at her 
 side and softly raised the coverlet; together there in the 
 dim light, husband and wife gazed silently at their little 
 one curled up in its cozy nest. 
 
 " Our leetle Fiorina," was all the wife could say, then 
 she tucked in the coverlet. 
 
 " Good night, little one," said the husband. 
 
 "Go to bed, beeg man," she replied, and kissing him 
 once more, she sank to sleep upon her pillow. 
 
 Standish turned from the bedside of his wife and new 
 born babe to that of his little son. 
 
 His own dear little Peter. With his long brown locks 
 and cupid lips, half smiling in his sleep as tho his dreams 
 were pleasant. Standish gased at him fondly for a mo 
 ment with parental instinct tucking him in a little more, 
 and as he did so, the same thought that he had expressed 
 to Solomon Guggenhone came suddenly to his mind. 
 
 "What is POSSESSION?" 
 
 Ah! Great and All Glorious God! 
 
 This this was possession, living in the pure and 
 sacred bosom of one's family. 
 
 This was Life's full brimming, joyous cup, compared to 
 which all else was wormwood. 
 
 Peasant or king. 
 
 Millionaire or common laborer. 
 
 Divine, God given, sacred bosom of one's family. 
 
 The mine owner retired to his chamber, knelt by his 
 bedside and prayed,
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 509 
 
 The petition introduced within his soul, the God of 
 Abraham, of Jacob, of Moses, and of Daniel. 
 
 He saw the Immaculate Son. 
 
 He beheld the angelic choir of Heaven, and heard their 
 songs and fervent hallelujahs. 
 
 He arose illumed and deeply reverent, his soul filled 
 with divine humbleness and meekness.
 
 BOOK V 
 
 THE VISITATION OF THE TEN THOUSAND MOUTHS 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 By 1905, succumbing to the appalling and irresistible 
 advance of American Plutocracy, most of Colorado's 
 great state enterprises had fallen into the hands of East 
 ern capital. Shortly after Theodore Dodge's notable 
 battle with John Wreckor Grabbe, Colorado Steel passed 
 into the hands of the Rockefellers and the Goulds, and 
 absolutely helpless in their hands, Dodge was well con 
 tent to manage the concern in the interests of these prin 
 cipals. Colorado Sugar had become a mere appendage of 
 the Havemeyers. Most of the state's larger mining con 
 cerns had long since fallen under the control of foreign 
 investors. The smelting interests had remained solidly 
 with the Guggenhones. The packing industry was a bag 
 atelle in the hands of the Armours, the Swifts, and the 
 Cudahys ; and the other industrials and commercials, such 
 as biscuit, condensed milk, wool, groceries, lumber, and 
 building materials, were under the almost exclusive con 
 trol of Eastern concerns. 
 
 Tho Denver's water, tramway, gas-electric, and tele 
 phone systems were largely bonded by Eastern capital, yet 
 the control was still held by a small coterie of local men. 
 
 It can be truly said then, that both the city's and the 
 state's greatest enterprise, the Salt Lake Short Line, was 
 almost the last rallying ground of patriots; and even 
 then the hope was not of saving it for local control, but 
 "Build it, build it; no matter who controls it," was the 
 battle-cry, and to that end David Moore was exhausting 
 every effort. The battle was telling on him sorely these 
 
 511
 
 512 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 times. In almost daily conversations with Standish, he 
 was growing ever more thin and spiritual, but his great 
 wistful eyes setting far back in his grand old head, seemed 
 to grow brighter and to challenge either singly or unit 
 edly all his foes. 
 
 Once when Standish betrayed by a particularly anxious 
 glance his trepidation and concern for his associate's 
 physical condition, one of those rare smiles, ever the de 
 light of the old banker's friends, illumed the patriarchal 
 features of uncle Davy and he said musingly: 
 
 "I'll I'll never rust out, my dear by, I'll wear out; 
 and that's the way to go," and Standish understood. 
 
 These were the trying days when that colossus of the 
 railroad world, Harrimjan, was adding web after web of 
 steel to his vast network of the nation's highways. "All 
 the more reason why I should eat you up," seemed to 
 be his wolf challenge to the Colorado Wasps, who, stalled 
 again and again in the Eastern money markets by 
 this dread scourge of finance, were often at their wit's 
 end for funds to keep the road going. 
 
 On one memorable occasion and stung to the quick by 
 the pathetic tale of uncle Davy, Standish phoned orders 
 to the superintendent of the 40 Rounds to set loose the 
 long stored up ores of the property and ship them to 
 the smelters. Every other resource of ready funds had 
 been exhausted and for some time it had been rumored 
 in certain inner banking circles that even the National 
 First itself was staggering under the weight of the road. 
 
 The resumed shipment of the ores of the 40 Rounds re 
 sulted in a wholly unexpected event in the fortunes of the 
 Short Line, and incidentally effecting a peculiar com 
 promise between the leading characters of this volume. 
 
 Within twenty-four hours of the first shipment of ore 
 made by the 40 Rounds, Solomon Guggenhone had 
 knowledge of it. It interested him hugely. 
 
 " Somebody's back is broke, I guess," was his quiet sol 
 iloquy. 
 
 Then it dawned on him.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 513 
 
 4 
 
 Dear old uncle Davy and his heroic battle for the 
 Short Line. 
 
 Could he, Solomon Guggenhone, as a loyal Coloradoan, 
 see this grand old man lose out ? But this stubborn puri 
 tanical Brown, with his vaunted independent smelter 
 ideas? Breaking tho, breaking, these ore shipments 
 proved that conclusively. Ah! A master stroke 1 Win 
 Brown, by supporting the Short Line, and avaunt, ye 
 rival smelter. 
 
 Several days later, Solomon Guggenhone called on 
 Standish Brown at the general offices of the Short Line. 
 
 "Sometime since we have met, Mr. Brown," was his 
 genial remark as he accepted the proffered chair. 
 
 "That's true, Mr. Guggenhone," was the quiet reply, 
 as the miner shrugged his shoulders slightly and gazed 
 questioningly into the unfathomable eyes of his visitor. 
 
 " I have looked in vain for the appearance of that new 
 smelter, Mr. Brown," continued Solomon almost face 
 tiously, "and noting that you have condescended to ship 
 some of your ores to us of late, I take it that you have 
 given up the project." 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, I have learned within the past 
 week, that one of the best things which can happen to 
 a man, is to learn the quality and sweetness of humble 
 ness," was the quiet reply. 
 
 "Uncle Davy?" said Solomon questioningly, with a 
 touch of tenderness in his voice. 
 
 "I won't say that. It isn't fair," replied Standish, 
 with a sense of stern protest in his voice, "But I will 
 say," he continued earnestly, "that any man who claims 
 to be a true citizen, a philanthropist, an aspirant for 
 senatorial honors, and a state builder, such as I under 
 stand you claim to be, who can allow this dear old man, 
 whose lifelong ambition and effort has been to put Den 
 ver on the transcontinental map of the United States, to 
 be slowly crushed and throttled by his enemies, and those 
 enemies the worst enemies of the state, should hide his 
 face in shame."
 
 514 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 This was pretty strong talk, but Solomon only sat and 
 smiled. Then he said quietly: 
 
 " I give you my word, Mr. Brown, that until you be 
 gan shipping ore to us, I had not suspected that the situ 
 ation was so bad. Smelting has been my exclusive line, 
 Mr. Brown, and thru a quiet understanding effected be 
 tween us a long time ago, David Moore has tended to his 
 particular line, and I mine. In the future, however, I 
 am going to branch out. Denver's grand old man shall 
 not go down to defeat in as laudable and noble an enter 
 prise as his, if it takes the resources of our whole family." 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, if you will do this, I I won't say 
 that I'll never try to build a smelter," replied Standish 
 with an amused smile, as tho the smelter had become a 
 standing joke between them, "but I will say, that if it is 
 your ambition to become a senator and a state builder, you 
 will truly have earned that office and title, and deserve 
 the praise and support of every loyal Coloradoan." 
 
 The little Jew was very happy that night. For many 
 years he had longed for just such a chance, just such a 
 field of action. The smelter was a thing of the past with 
 him. It was now a tremendous and perfectly working 
 machine, destined to keep in order and continue to run 
 on and on as a permanent industrial of the nation. Its 
 organization and perfect operation was a sufficient triumph 
 for any man, as things are looked upon in the world of 
 trade and commerce. The head of one of the greatest 
 industrials of the world, and that triumph won long be 
 fore he was forty; and yet, there actually seemed to be 
 another life ahead of him, of equal length, and every 
 year of it increasing the ripeness of his experience, with 
 a great fortune to dispense the fruits of that experience. 
 
 Yes, he felt that there was something far greater to 
 strive for now ; more satisfactory, more substantial. Some 
 thing possessing loftier ideals ; that would yield increasing 
 sentiment, love, charity, and the goodwill of men and 
 women ; far more than merely to be a cog-wheel of as he 
 was often wont to say one of Roosevelt's good trusts.
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 515 
 
 To be a state builder, perhaps a senator. That sound 
 ed good. And here was the way. 
 
 He began to feel a real friendship and sympathy for 
 Standish Brown. Altho feeling that he had his adver 
 sary floored temporarily, yet he felt that it was only 
 commercially speaking, and that he had met a man 
 whom he could greatly appreciate in that larger life he 
 was beginning to realize was his future field of action. 
 A life in which such men as bore the stamp of the hon 
 est miner must participate or the nation was lost. He 
 had never forgotten, that the one suggestive remark of 
 this sturdy son of the West: "What is possession?" had 
 helped to launch his thought on a higher plane, and he 
 realized in Brown's frank confession of humbleness, in 
 the matter of the recent shipment of the ores, that no soul 
 is so unconquerable or so strong as the one that can con 
 fess its defeats and still fight on. 
 
 Within a week Short Line bonds were in steady 
 demand under the paternalism of the Guggenhones, and 
 its stock rose steadily. 
 
 "Standish! Standish! The battle is won, dear boy," 
 exclaimed uncle Davy one bright spring morning, as he 
 handed his associate a telegram from, his New York 
 brokers. 
 
 "There's nothing to it now, my boy," the old man con 
 tinued in a happy vein, "but build build ; on on, into 
 the golden West." 
 
 "Good, Davy," was the miner's pleased and quiet 
 comment as he gripped the thin worn hand of the banker, 
 and at that moment if Solomon Guggenhone could have 
 seen the flash of kindred delight and sentiment which 
 passed between them, he would have thought himself 
 even greater than a state builder. 
 
 Standish never told David of Solomon's generous ac 
 tion until it became officially known that the little Jew 
 was an active candidate for senator. For evident reasons 
 the ores of the 40 Rounds are still shipped to the plants 
 of the American Smelter Co., altho Standish still stub 
 bornly declares to Solomon Guggenhone, that the pro-
 
 516 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 ject of the new smelter is still a possibility never to be 
 abandoned; in answer, the little Jew, who is now a sen 
 ator, laughingly declares he is out of the smelting business 
 and claims he would be pleased to see the mine owner 
 make a success of his proposed enterprise. 
 
 Several important factors were working, however, in 
 the lives of these two men at this time, which might in 
 the roll of the grim portentious years, develop to such a 
 magnitude as to wholly overshadow this ancient bone of 
 contention; for often, principle, the thing uppermost in 
 Standish Brown's mind in this smelter issue, mounts 
 from minor to major things ; from individuals to nations ; 
 and is often vindicated in the mass, where it fails or 
 rather is lifted from the individual, and made the com 
 mon cause of a whole people. 
 
 Religious liberty, burned in the flames of Smithfield in 
 the person of John Rogers, was made a common cause 
 and a successful one, by the whole English nation.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 In 1907, Solomon Guggenhonc was elected United 
 States Senator from Colorado, and today, after a thoro 
 digest of the journals and newspapers and the hearing of 
 certain personal reminiscences of the times by well known 
 citizens thruout the state, the whole affair can be well 
 summed up by quoting the congratulatory words af 
 forded the senator elect by a charming young society bud 
 of Denver: "How clever of you, Solly." 
 
 Clever, because his henchmen had bought up the bank 
 rupt, defunct, and disorganized Republican machine, re 
 organizing and perfecting it, until the machinery ran as 
 smooth in its way as the Guggenhone smelter. Clever, 
 because Solly himself had scarcely removed his dainty 
 gloves or gotten one awry wrinkle in the set of his im 
 maculate trousers during the entire campaign. Clever, 
 because most of the people of the state had apparently ac 
 cepted his candidacy for just what they thought it was 
 worth his money. Clever, because the men w r ho fought 
 him had so much money themselves, that their powder 
 smoke rolled back and smothered their fire. Clev6r, be 
 cause the powerful Short Line crowd could not be 
 coaxed or persuaded from his enthusiastic support. Clever, 
 because he had bravely clung to the coat tails of the 
 popular Teddy Roosevelt and been carried across the line 
 with him, an easy winner. 
 
 It was in vain that opposing orators thundered the 
 prostitution of the state by the Smelter Trust for some of 
 the orators owned smelter stock and the people knew it; 
 that public conscience must be awakened or Colorado 
 would, as certain journalists had declared, be put in the 
 same disreputable class as Montana and Delaware, for 
 some of the orators wanted a wealthy senator to employ 
 their matchless art and the people know it; that the 
 
 517
 
 518 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 days of the republic had ceased and the reign of the 
 Caesars was about to begin, for some of the orators itched 
 for the lucre of the Caesars and most of the people did 
 too. Julius Caius was never so popular as when handing 
 out spoil to the mobs of Rome. 
 
 And so the election was held, the votes counted; and 
 not a Guggenhone man who was really expected to win, 
 lost out. Later the legislature met in joint session, and 
 after listening amid the jibes and jeers of a packed gal 
 lery to an impassioned and eloquent protest by a mem 
 ber from the Western Slope, against the selection of the 
 smelter magnate to the highest office in the gift of the 
 state, the legislature calmly proceeded to the election of 
 that much villified and maligned citizen, Solomon Gug 
 genhone, as the new member from Colorado to the senate 
 of the United States. 
 
 Under the smiling front of the senator elect upon that 
 memorable day, however, was a soul aflame with the 
 fiercest emotion. The immortal stage was the storm cen 
 ter of battling Titans, and the mightiest of these was 
 MONEY. For in spite of the many other important 
 factors in his political success, which appeared upon the 
 great stage; Reciprocity, Goodwill, Regular Party En 
 dorsement, Personal Popularity, etc.; yet the great fact 
 that his election was popularly supposed to be brought 
 about because he was a great spender and that he couldn't 
 have been elected without the spending of large sums of 
 money, maddened him almost beyond endurance. 
 
 And there was the monster fawning at him now, as if 
 he instead of the man was the true victor. But the man's 
 imperious will launched forth the lash, and the great 
 beast cringed and whimpered at his feet. Really, it had 
 conquered in this affair of the senatorship. Its offal 
 tossed out as heaps of spoil to the soiled hands that 
 clutched and devoured it with unholy lust, even as the 
 master clinked the shackles on the slaves. 
 
 "My God! My God!" groaned the brave little Jew, 
 " Truly this commonwealth needs a guardian, when, pre 
 senting a front of high reared granite to the nation in
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 519 
 
 its mighty chain of cloud-kissed peaks, its people seem to 
 be a heap of sand. Bear upl Bear up! True heart of 
 Israel, and give Thy servant strength." 
 
 Long ago in the midst of his strenuous business career 
 he looked upon the office of senator as an attainment 
 worthy a citizen's ambition, and keeping in close touch 
 with the political situation in the state as part of the field 
 of his life, he little dreamed that the success of office was 
 so largely a matter of spending money upon that famous 
 business basis of the Yankee ; the great tho simple science 
 of, "You tickle me and I'll tickle you." 
 
 He had known, of course, that the game of politics 
 was replete with chicanery, jobs, machines, lucre, and 
 the like, but he had never doubted that the state was really 
 under the safe and true dominion of the people's will, 
 and that will he believed to be surcharged with their 
 highest civic virtue and morality. But this terrible 
 awakening. This mockery. In truth, the prize he had 
 won was a booby. Instead of arousing his keenest aspira 
 tions to serve a great and noble people, as was his original 
 idea, he now felt more like a physician groaning with de 
 spair at the bedside of a patient dying with a disease 
 which wholly baffled him. Doubtless almost the whole 
 state, both men and women, put squarely on the issue 
 of Decency vs. Money; and behold Decency fades as 
 a dream; and revealed a people apparently frankly 
 and sincerely proud of their ability to elect a senator 
 whose great wealth it was hoped he would disburse among 
 them. Had there been the least semblance of a struggle, 
 the senator would have taken a different view, but from 
 the very start it had been apparently only a question of 
 njoney ; and as his was the biggest pile in sight, the greedy 
 mob at the polls fairly struggled to elect his henchmen. 
 
 If ever Solomon Guggenhone was great, and in that 
 hour he was indeed truly great, it was when he left the 
 Centennial State bound for the National Capitol, de 
 termined that if it were within his power, and he earnestly 
 appealed to his God in Israel for that power, he would 
 endeavor to reinstill within the minds of the people of
 
 520 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Colorado, that virtue, morality, and sterling honesty that 
 he was wont to dream of in the days of his youth as consti 
 tuting the bulwark and strength of a free democracy. 
 
 Slowly, however, as he neared the capitol, a decided 
 change appeared in the current of his thought. 
 
 Ah ! How silly of him to have missed it. It was not 
 to have judged his election wholly by those who had voted 
 for him, for the mob is always in the majority, and at 
 the call of money, but to have judged his election by the 
 minority which had voted against him, plus those ele 
 ments of the majority which he felt were legitimately 
 and rightly his; and in this instance, while his election 
 had been as easy as a great ship slipping into tide-water 
 upon the smoothest of ways, yet the minority which had 
 voted against him was undoubtedly a healthy one, and 
 final judgment upon the suffrage of his state he vowed 
 must not be passed until that minority had been thoroly 
 analyzed; and this, after the first formalities of his pres 
 entation to his colleagues of the senate were over, the 
 new senator made his first duty.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 In 1908 Standish was still the constructive head of the 
 Short Line; his subordinates had the road every west 
 ward-reaching mile of it thoroly in hand, and as fast 
 as David Moore released the required capital, the work 
 was advertised for bids, contracts let, and the road ad 
 vanced steadily. 
 
 These were the years of reaction following those active 
 ly anticipative and enthusiastic ones which marked the 
 beginning of the Short Line. Both David and Standish, 
 now that the strained financial period of the enterprise 
 had passed, and ample funds were in sight to advance 
 the road, confessed themselves decidedly apathetic, spirit 
 less, and dull. Fiorina and the children alone keeping 
 them) from almost fossilizing. David, however, much 
 older, having experienced and long since passed the 
 critical years of middle age, and occasionally visiting 
 friends in the East, appeared much easier and more com 
 fortable than Standish, who was gradually taking upon 
 himself a fierce and violent unrest. 
 
 The miner's wealth was beginning by this time to ac 
 cumulate so rapidly that he began to be thoroly fright 
 ened. During the years of his active management of 
 the Short Line, he had scarcely troubled himself as to the 
 annual appraising and accounting of his estate, -as had 
 long been his custom, for during that period it had only 
 been a persistent, and at times, a desperate effort to scrape 
 up his ready funds from all sources and sink them into 
 the bonds of the road to assure its steady march west 
 ward. Now, with the improved financial situation, how 
 ever, the road was in a position to liquidate its bonds at 
 will; while its stock, large blocks of which had been 
 given Standish as pure bonus with every purchase of 
 bonds, and had, therefore, cost him nothing, was now 
 
 521
 
 522 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 quoted at high figures on the street, resulting in a large 
 fortune out of this little dreamed-of investment, and one 
 which he had scarcely thought of beyond the value of 
 his purchased bonds and the interest thereon. Another 
 item almost entirely overlooked by him, was the payment 
 of his full and generous salary for services rendered the 
 road, and which, since the inception of the enterprise up 
 to this time, he had refused to draw, owing to the scarcity 
 of funds. Then the enormous returns from the smelters 
 of the long-stored up ores of the 40 Rounds, constituted 
 a generous fortune in itself. Upon several of his down 
 town Denver properties, huge sky-scrapers were now being 
 erected and piling up fabulous real and lease values under 
 the powerful impetus and wonderful, tho natural, growth 
 of the city ; and those thousands of acres of coal and min 
 eral lands, purchased years ago at minimum figures, merely 
 to supply the needs of his proposed smelter, were now in 
 active demand as valuable grazing and farming lands, 
 the transformation having been accomplished by new 
 and improved irrigating systems; bringing wonderful of 
 fers for them by bona fide settlers, as well as speculators, 
 who were willing that he should wholly reserve the coal 
 and mineral, and sell the surface rights only. Also scarce 
 ly a month passed by but that he was the recipient of 
 a new issue of stock by one or another of the great cor 
 porations of the West, the fruit of Colonel Rose's invest 
 ments, made years ago, amounting to gifts pure and 
 simple, adding their generous quota to the now heavily- 
 swollen volume of his ever-accumulating fortune. 
 
 Stenographer after stenographer, clerk after clerk, had 
 been added to his private office force since his departure 
 from Plume, and his business suite had increased to such 
 proportions that it now occupied the entire upper floor of 
 one of the city's recently erected skyscrapers. It was almost 
 impossible for him at this time to treat his large acquaint 
 ance with his old-time cordiality, such was the demand 
 that business made upon him. He had long since passed 
 that period of a millionaire's career in which the training 
 and services of talented and efficient assistants had be-
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 523 
 
 come necessary. He employed several capable secretaries, 
 and they had assistants under them. The revenues from 
 his great mine, which had made this large fortune pos 
 sible, were still as generous as ever, and had not the 
 owner been so completely overwhelmed with the vastness 
 of it all, he would have smiled with contempt at the poor 
 pittance of the 40 Rounds as compared with his other 
 sources of wealth. 
 
 In comparison with the many other notable battles 
 fought within his troubled soul, this one of the frightful 
 ly increasing fortune was as a Gettysburg compared with 
 a mere bushwhacking skirmish. Day after day, weeks 
 and months, passed in fearful mental anguish, with 
 only the company of his wife and children to remind him 
 that he was still sane and in full possession of his facul 
 ties; and in the end, he was forced to admit, in full 
 agreement with all other of those of our American mil 
 lionaires who are conscientious, and who have been placed 
 in a similar position, that from a perfectly legitimately 
 made fortune of modest proportions, such as his orignially 
 was, mined honestly and purely from a mountain by the 
 sweat of his brow, had sprung a Frankenstein of frightful 
 proportions, threatening to devour him body and soul. 
 There had not been the" slightest intent to do wrong. In 
 fact, for years his had been that common battle of many 
 of our millionaires, that of defending one's honest rights 
 in trade and commerce, even at times battling for one's 
 very financial existence. The early railroad, smelter, 
 John Charles Rose, and the Short Line battles, were all 
 legitimate and commendable struggles for what he deemed 
 was right, and yet, to this appalling and terrifying end 
 a millionaire. One of a class ostracized and alone. A 
 class who are no more a part of the plain people of this 
 Republic than oil is water, and who, according to the 
 extent of their millions, are doomed to perish, unloved, 
 unsung, and unhonored by the masses, even by those who 
 have been paid the most liberal wages in assisting in the 
 creation and maintenance of the monster.
 
 524 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 With a man less conscientious than Standish Brown, 
 all would have been lost. The Frankenstein would have 
 claimed its victim, and another blazing comet vomited 
 forth from the sun of Mammon would have fallen scream 
 ing thru space, only to be ground to powder in its time by 
 the shattering spikes of the mill-wheels of careening 
 worlds of humanity. 
 
 Steadfast, however, and by prayer and fasting, advanc 
 ing thru the gloom and darkness toward his God, Stan- 
 dish attained a distant height in one of the deep recesses 
 of his soul, on which, for one brief instant of the day, 
 the sun of Truth shone upon him and gave him hope. 
 Daily he sought that spot, and as the light swept down 
 upon him in its instant's passage, he implored with out 
 stretched arms for that help which God alone can give. 
 Presently he noted that the light lingered a trifle longer 
 each day, and with redoubled effort he sought and ap 
 pealed to the mercy of his Creator. 
 
 Then came the dread hour of his visitation. 
 
 A phenomenon which appears only within the soul of 
 a millionaire, and which, when the fatal moment of his 
 MAGNIFICATION has come, warns him in the name 
 of the Most High God, "Reduce thyself, or perish I" 
 
 It seemed to Standish that, Night, the Cimmerian night 
 of the ages, engulfed him in a frightful smother of chok 
 ing blackness. ' Suddenly, he heard a terrifying gnawing 
 sound as tho an army of rodents were gnawing their way 
 toward him. Presently, a dim light appeared, and by it, 
 and becoming more terrified each moment at the sound 
 of the awful "gnaw, gnaw" of the on-coming army, it 
 seemed to him that he built a stout stockade of logs, and 
 at the very moment he completed it the army of gnawing 
 rodents reached it and attacked it with ominous fury. 
 Spurred on by the fury of the attack, and for further pro 
 tection, he made himself a substantial quadrangle of 
 brick and mortar. Great drops of perspiration fell from 
 him as he toiled, but by a supreme effort he finished it 
 and threw himself within it completely exhausted, only to
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 525 
 
 be startled a moment later by the sound of the crashing 
 and falling of the wooden stockade, and a frightful 
 swarming of the rodents as they dashed to the attack of 
 the brick wall. 
 
 "My God 1 Can it be possible," he groaned. And yet, 
 there it was, that fearful "gnawing gnawing," even 
 at the brick wall. 
 
 In a few hours it, too, would be eaten thru and thru. 
 
 His next defense was a quadrangle of stone and cement. 
 How he ever lived to build it, he knew not, but it was 
 accomplished, and he sank within it, after he had placed 
 the last stone, utterly prostrated. He then slept, he knew 
 not how long, but as he awoke he heard the walls of the 
 brick quadrangle fall with a crash, and a moment later 
 he heard those terrible teeth grating and grinding in their 
 onslaught on the stone walls. Instinctively he felt that it, 
 too, must succumb. Only a vault of chilled steel could re 
 sist their ravenous attack, and spurred on by his appalling 
 situation he began the forging of the vault. 
 
 Gloatingly, he thought as he toiled, of how their teeth 
 would crack and splinter upon the steel sides of the vault. 
 He was calm as he finished it. A victory, and rest from 
 his tortures. 
 
 Presently the stone wall fell, and he felt the terrifying 
 press of the gnawing thousands against the cold steel of 
 the vault. 
 
 How he gloated and rubbed his hands 'in glee as he 
 heard their teeth splinter and crack upon its impenetrable 
 surface. Then fell an ominous silence, followed by a 
 tiny "creak creak," and the sides of the vault began 
 to vibrate slightly. 
 
 "My God!" he screamed in wildest terror, "they are 
 drilling." Feeling that he was doomed, and gathering his 
 remaining senses together, he remembered that it must 
 be time for the appearance of that one sweeping ray of 
 light which had been his single solace thru this long 
 misery of night. He determined that the instant it ap 
 peared thru the grating, he would step forth and meet 
 the terrible fate that was pursuing him. The light soon
 
 526 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 appeared, he swung the door open, and almost blinded in 
 the glare, he faced his enemies. 
 
 They were mouths human mouths. 
 
 Thousands of them. A wall of them on every hand. 
 
 Mouths of flawless beauty. Mouths of hideous malevol 
 ence. Mouths of the innocent; of suffering; of poverty; 
 of sorrow, and the cruel pinch of wrongs. Mouths of 
 angels; of prostitutes; of evil and of good. Beautiful 
 mouths, smiling the benediction of the Holy Ones. 
 Mouths gnashing and foaming the rage of devils. Mouths 
 of pity and of love; of fathers and mothers, and of fair 
 and innocent babes and children ; yet all, wreathed in an 
 expression of terrible rebuke and menace, pressed closer 
 toward their victim, who stood helpless and aghast. 
 
 Teeth there were, white as alabaster and firm as ada 
 mant. Teeth tushed as a boar's and yellow as amber. 
 Teeth of hags, and the first teeth of purling infants. 
 Teeth sweet with gums of coral and scented with rare 
 spices of Cathay. Teeth black and rotten with decay and 
 coated with revolting colonies of disgusting and noisome 
 tartars. 
 
 Lips there were. Lips upon which a bee would have 
 sighed and died in a despair of unutterable sweets. Lips, 
 too, lecherous and foul, whose touch would have withered 
 and blasted the strongest and fairest youth. Sweet and 
 true and firm lips of wives; soft, velvety lips of young 
 mothers ; melting and intoxicating lips of shy and tender 
 maidens; strong, muscular, insistent and bold lips of 
 swelling, leaping manhood. Quavering, trembling lips of 
 old age and imminent dissolution; carmine-edged lips of 
 sin and prostitution. 
 
 There were jaws also, tiny jaws of infants, fit only to 
 cling and suckle a blushing breast ; jaws which crunched 
 and clacked the miseries and horrors of prisons and hovels. 
 Jaws which could have throttled the strongest bull and 
 out-fanged the fiercest lion. Jaws toothless and gummed 
 with ulcers and disease. Jaws curved matchless as the 
 love cup of hair-veiled Venus, and whose blood-hued open 
 ings were as glorious as the scarlet rose dews of the shining
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 527 
 
 morn, and whose tendriled depths as tempting as the 
 quivering scented bulbus of the passionate pomegranate. 
 Jaws, too, bristling the sabre edge of hate and venom; 
 jaws merciless as Satan. On every hand they were, and 
 dim thousands of them seen afar, all grinding and gnash 
 ing the death knell of their victim. 
 
 Suddenly a voice was heard: 
 
 "We are the mouths of the Ten Thousand Livings 
 which you are consuming. Feed us, or be thyself con 
 sumed." 
 
 The oracle of Truth had spoken. 
 
 When Standish awoke from this spectacle he was in 
 possession of the truth and the crime of his situation as 
 a millionaire. 
 
 Millionaire, thy name is LEGION. 
 
 A millionaire can never be accepted of his fellowmen 
 as a man, until he, too, like the Gadarene, is purged of 
 his multitude. 
 
 He is not a man. He has become a superman. A 
 colossus. An army, turned loose upon and ravaging a 
 helpless people. 
 
 A millionaire is the consumer and absorber of the 
 rightful livings of many people, of many human units. 
 
 A monstrosity swelled and magnified from the one 
 legitimate human unit which he originally was, into thou 
 sands of illegitimate human units. 
 
 When a multimillionaire eats, he eats the substance of 
 ten thousand mouths. When he sleeps, he sleeps in ten 
 thousand beds. When he removes his hat, puts on his 
 clothes, or performs any personal act whatsoever, he 
 does it in the magnitude of ten thousand human units. 
 
 He may be ever so abstemious, in fact, actually eat 
 ing mere crusts of bread. But behold! Tho he eats but 
 the crust, the ten thousand hungry mouths robbed of that 
 crust, snap jaws in anger and hatred; ten thousand pairs 
 of eyes look frightful askance at the monster consuming 
 their rightful inheritance.
 
 528 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 These ten thousand livings may not really exist in the 
 flesh, but in the minds of men they DO. 
 
 Set a millionaire in the midst of a community of ten 
 thousand people, and scarcely a one but thinks, "How 
 grown so great? By what right is he so magnified be 
 yond me?" 
 
 These ten thousand human units, with concentrated 
 thought are secretly or openly coveting, protesting, ques 
 tioning, or philosophizing the magnitude of a millionaire ; 
 and he becomes a subtile tho generally a wholly un 
 conscious one soul poisoner and Borgia of a whole 
 community, a curse unto himself as well as to his fellow- 
 men; and his fortune the breeder of countless colonies 
 of evil thoughts, the most terrible of which is ANARCHY, 
 the fearful offspring of ENVY and PROTEST, and 
 raised up against those unfortunates who have allowed 
 themselves to grow beyond one legitimate human unit. 
 
 Tho a millionaire may be employing and, in his eyes, 
 supporting a hundred thousand workmen, and the fam 
 ilies dependent thereon. Tho he may be giving thousands 
 of his wealth to the poor. Yet, just so long as he clings to 
 his millions, he magnifies himself in proportion and be 
 comes responsible to those units of living, which, by reason 
 of his opulence, he has robbed. 
 
 Who are the poor, and why are they poor? 
 
 This is the eternal curse of the millionaire. 
 
 As long as we have the poor, there can be no peaceful 
 head-rest for the millionaire. He is the Cain of the in 
 dustrial world, and walks daily in the sight of God and 
 man, with the deadly mark of the slaughterer upon his 
 brow. 
 
 No man raises himself above the common people and 
 the common living, but at the price of other livings than 
 his own, and every one he so usurps, grabs, or absorbs, 
 becomes a fatal Nemesis, pursuing him to the gates of 
 death; and at the judgment denouncing to a just God, 
 the unholy robbery. 
 
 A man is but one at the gates of heaven, just as he
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 529 
 
 should be but one in the world of men. How can that 
 man enter, who has magnified himself beyond it? 
 
 " Verily, I say unto you, it is easier for a camel to go 
 thru a needle's eye, than for a rich man to enter into the 
 Kingdom of God." 
 
 The camel is the beast burdened with the hoarded ten 
 thousand livings of the millionaire. The needle's eye is 
 the narrow gate of heaven, allowing but one to enter at 
 a time ; and self evident to the warder is the guilt of the 
 owner of the camel, who, failing to enter with his hoard, 
 falls backward into hell. 
 
 Lazarus, in the bosom of Abraham, was only one of 
 the wronged ten thousand mouths of his time, and hell 
 will continue to be filled with millionaires, until that 
 time comes when they will descend unto the common level 
 and divert and devote their fortunes to a common purse, 
 which will insure to every human unit on this earth, a 
 living equal unto themselves. 
 
 Man has at last attained that period of history and 
 human -progress, when to assume and enjoy more of a 
 living than that of his fellowmen, is absolutely criminal. 
 
 The lone philosophers and sages of all the ages and 
 peoples of the earth have never failed to point out the 
 folly and the evil of riches and the delights of honest 
 poverty; but the masses of the past, largely corrupted 
 themselves, have never heeded or realized, and have al 
 ways basely and foolishly aspired. 
 
 But now the MASS itself, while becoming largely and 
 wholesomely philosophized, is also becoming practically 
 and intelligently, yet appallingly insistent; and the terri 
 fying moment now hovers and close approaches when 
 the awful Boa of Humanity, which clutches the world 
 within its deadly coils, will slowly raise its hideous head, 
 and peering with implacable eyes over the rim of the 
 world, open its abysmal jaws as the doors of a cyclopean 
 furnace, and with devouring tongues of flame, scorching 
 the spaces of the high-soaring stars, swallow, with a 
 mighty tremor and nauseating scale rustling constriction 
 that will crack the very ribs of the planet, that vile image
 
 530 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 of the modern golden calf PLUTOCRACY ; which, 
 thru all the ages of humanity, has slowly prepared itself 
 for this last and most terrible catastrophe, having smeared 
 itself unwittingly, for the successful swallowing of the 
 Boa, with the slippery saliva of Sloth and Corruption. 
 
 It is now a fact, and a glorious surpassing truth, that 
 to be a millionaire, is to be a criminal civilly, as well as 
 morally. In the flight of the centuries the state is at last 
 attaining the level of ethics. 
 
 Yesterday, Plutocracy cracked its whip and the slaves 
 bent to the task and groaned. 
 
 Today, Plutocracy cracks the whip, and the slaves 
 protest. 
 
 Tomorrow, Plutocracy will crack its whip, and men, 
 for they will be slaves no longer, will laugh. 
 
 The most terrible of men is the man who laughs, for 
 his laughter is but the brimming flagon of his hate. 
 
 Benvenuto Cellini in dungeoned San Angelo, despair 
 ingly thrusting his poniard into his mouldy, rotting mat 
 tress, laughed as he imagined he was splitting the belly 
 of the Pope. 
 
 "I am the state," said Louis XIV, yet the royal heads 
 of his successors fell to the ground like heaps of cabbages. 
 
 "WE we, under God, our Father, are the state," 
 shall be the watchword of the Masses in their hour of 
 victory, and that state shall endure to the end of the 
 world, and shall know no bounds or limits but the ex 
 tremes of the world itself. 
 
 Millionaireism is the latest phase of SELF seeking to 
 usurp the powers and kingdom of the UNSELF GOD. 
 
 It is the last and most feeble and vainest effort of the 
 ancient serpent of Mammon to creep into the lap of 
 heaven. 
 
 After the millionaires, what? 
 
 The prophet answers, the millennium of the PEOPLE !
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 The two years since his election had treated Solomon 
 Guggenhone kindly. Beyond a shadow of doubt he had 
 safely arrived with the senate, and in conjunction with 
 his recently elected colleague, a man of the most spot 
 less personal character and of the highest repute, both 
 in the state and nation, Colorado was ably and brilliantly 
 represented in the highest legislative hall of the Republic, 
 
 Solomon had attempted nothing sensational or bom 
 bastic in representing his constituency. The fruits of 
 his long years of experience in the financial and social 
 circles of the nation were invaluable to him in the ad 
 ministration of his new office. Washington society could 
 offer him nothing more than he had long enjoyed, and the 
 atmosphere of the senate could scarcely show him more dig 
 nity and decorum than which he had long since observed 
 and practiced in the parlors of the best financial institu 
 tions of the land, and in the close and intimate association 
 with the greatest business men and savants of the nation. 
 In fact, there were times during the discussions of the sen 
 ate when he felt that the atmosphere of the counting- 
 house was decidedly superior; but on those grave and 
 solemn occasions when the destiny of the Great Republic 
 was to a large degree being shaped by the members of 
 the upper house, and the very winged spirit of the nation 
 seemed present and hovering with eagle pinions in the 
 spiritual presence of those immortals convened there thru- 
 out the most momentous periods of the world's greatest 
 constituency of free people, the little Jew's heart swelled 
 within him and his eyes sparkled the delight of being a 
 member of so august an assembly. 
 
 Unassuming, modest, yet absolutely loyal and fair 
 to every interest reposed in him by the citizens of the 
 state, he strove to represent them in the full meaning of 
 
 531
 
 532 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the term, yet also to conform strictly to the customs of 
 both houses and the administration. He was a regular 
 party man when irregularity merely represented vague 
 and extreme measures; but for everything bearing the 
 stamp of real progress and demonstrable utility, he earn 
 estly strove with due regard for all parties concerned. 
 His private establishment in the capitol ranked with 
 the best, housing a man, his wife, and family in full 
 keeping with their social rank and fortune. He had at 
 the time of his election, announced that he had severed 
 all connection with his former business interests and 
 would devote himself exclusively to the affairs and wel 
 fare of the people of Colorado. This announcement he 
 fulfilled in every way, spending much of his time in the 
 state and studying the needs of its people. The faithful 
 representation of his constituency he earnestly seconded 
 with philanthropy ; and several of those institutions whose 
 needs he had failed to relieve thru legislation, he suc 
 cored with his private purse. The host of enemies which 
 had sprung up against him during his campaign for office, 
 largely disappeared in the light of his faithful representa 
 tion and generous philanthropy, and even his bitterest 
 foes acknowledged that he had gone far toward winning 
 the hearts of the people, and that with due tenure of of 
 fice the state might expect and realize great things of 
 him. 
 
 His careful and elaborate investigation as to those ele 
 ments which constituted the vote of the minority in his 
 election, thoroly convinced him that the larger portion 
 of it was made up of a sincere and conscientious protest 
 against the election of a millionaire to public office. 
 
 He rejoiced at this discovery for two reasons. 
 
 First, the state was wholly and grandly vindicated as 
 to the charge of its enemies that it was grossly corrupted 
 and mammonized. 
 
 Second, it gave him a chance to win by true and faith 
 ful service, these same votes in the event he should seek 
 re-election. 
 
 To the demands of that large majority, however, whicU
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 had effected his election, he paid generous largess, but 
 not to that extent which was anticipated. To every absurd 
 and unreasonable demand he administered an honest re 
 buke, which was generally admitted by the recipient to 
 be just, even tho it stung, and there had been as yet no 
 contrary evidence presented but that the majority of his 
 constituents were fully satisfied, and would continue to 
 loyally support him to the end of his political career. 
 
 In the full light of his election, therefore, and the cir 
 cumstances attendant, he found himself perfectly at ease, 
 and confidently believed with his loyal supporters, that 
 viewing the political situation from every side, he had 
 won his office with as clean hands as could be expected of 
 any one who plays the game of politics; and dismissing 
 the event wholly from his mind, he had entered upon 
 his senatorial career with that full vigor and earnestness 
 for which his race is justly noted. 
 
 Upon his recent arrival in Denver he was attracted 
 by a newspaper item, stating that the Standish Browns 
 had changed their residence, and he noted that the new 
 address given was in a distant part of the city, in a dis 
 trict which he well knew was occupied almost exclusively 
 by working-men. As he had been upon particularly good 
 terms with Standish since his generous paternalism in 
 the affairs of the Short Line, he determined to visit him 
 at his new residence and observe for himself the family 
 life~ of a man in whom he confessed he was deeply in 
 terested. He made the call early one Sunday afternoon, 
 his driver stopping his car in front of a modest cottage, 
 which, with the exception that it was newly built, was 
 of the same class of dwellings as the balance of the row. 
 
 Ferrari w r as on the front porch when the car stopped, 
 smoking his pipe and watching the children at play in 
 the yard. Returning the senator's nod with his usual mil 
 itary salute, he ushered him into the tiny parlor and 
 called the head of the house. 
 
 "My dear senator, I am delighted at this call," was 
 Standish's hearty greeting, as he grasped the proffered 
 hand warmly. " Saw by the papers you were in town,
 
 534 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 Come, let's sit by the fireplace; and, besides, I want you 
 to meet my wife," and ushering his guest into a small 
 but comfortable living room, where a bright coal fire 
 was burning in a plain brick grate, he seated him, and 
 excusing himself for a moment, re-entered the room' with 
 the shy Fiorina. 
 
 "Mr. Guggenhone, this is my wife. Fiorina, this is 
 the Senator," he said cordially. 
 
 "Welcome to our house, Meester Senator," she said, 
 her eyes sparkling with pleasure, and adding with her 
 delightful archness of manner, "We we be very plain 
 people now. Capitol Hill too much for us and we mofe 
 here. Bye and bye, Meester Brown, he show you 'round. 
 We we do lofe this leetle house, Meester Senator. We 
 are so happy and zee people all 'round. What you call 
 'em. Ah! Yes, zee neighbors they are so nice," and 
 continuing in this vein for a few moments she excused 
 herself and left them to themselves. 
 
 " Mr. Brown," began the senator abruptly, after a brief 
 chat on politics and the issues of the day, "What does all 
 this mean? This er, this abandoning of gay Capitol 
 Hill for a cottage among the working men of North 
 Denver? You see, Brown," he continued with mock 
 gravity, "in my official capacity as a member of the upper 
 house of congress, it is my duty to inquire into the state 
 and condition of my constituents, and believe me, there 
 are none who interest me more than yourself. I repeat, 
 what does it mean?" 
 
 " Just trying to get back and in touch with the plain 
 people is all, Senator. You see," and here the great honest 
 eyes of the speaker looked up at him in almost pathetic 
 wistfulness, "I simply got swamped in this money making 
 business. It was beginning to make a mere thing out of 
 me; a mere mechanical thing of dollars and dividends, 
 and this move of mine, while it may appear very foolish 
 to you, is just a desperate effort to pull up and get away 
 from it all ; to at least show that I don't want to be more 
 set up or live any better than just the plain people." 
 
 " I think I see your point clearly, Brown, I have often
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 535 
 
 felt that way myself; but do you really think you are 
 clearing up the question of social equality even tho you 
 have shown which side you are on; and making a move 
 with a certain air of fiction about it, will hardly be swal 
 lowed by your so called plain people, think you?" 
 
 " No, I do not claim that I have solved that great and 
 vexatious problem by any means, my dear fellow, but 
 feeling that I wanted to be what I once was, a plain work 
 ing-man, without palaver and a houseful of domestics, I 
 sought peace in this move.* You know I was a miner once, 
 Senator, up there at Plume. I had friends then, for I 
 was just one of the boys. I have none now, Senator, save 
 a scattered few of my business associates in town here and 
 the most of them gradually getting into deeper water: all 
 except uncle Davy of course who comes to see us almost 
 every day, and who, by reason of his grand and unselfish 
 efforts for Colorado, is a privileged character even to the 
 rankest anarchist in town. True, I occasionally meet 
 one of the boys from Plume, but something's wrong, 
 Senator, the old feeling isn't there. It's it's the money, 
 Senator, I'm not a miner now; I'm a millionaire, and 
 who can truly, without prejudice and distrust, call me 
 friend, save perhaps another millionaire. It's the same 
 feeling that Win Stratton had about his membership card 
 in the carpenter's union of Colorado Springs. He told 
 me once, that he cared more about that piece of cardboard 
 than he did for the whole Independence mine. There's 
 my old miner's union card framed over the fireplace. I 
 treasure it as a certificate of membership in the ranks of 
 the plain people, even tho I realize those days may never 
 return, for just as long as I am rich I can never qualify 
 again." 
 
 " You are endowed with much sentiment I see, Brown. 
 Tho I am willing to confess that I too, often miss that 
 little touch of nearness and kinness to the common people. 
 Yet knowing that I'm a millionaire, I jog ahead and am 
 content to do the best I can. I have always felt a good 
 deal like Swedenborg about wealth. If one worships 
 wealth for wealth's sake, assuredly he is doomed. But 
 if he holds his wealth in subjection and uses it as a
 
 536 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 steward, holding his mind open to truth and goodness 
 and the needs of his fellowmen, he is as eligible to heaven, 
 or to speak in a more worldly sense, as eligible to the 
 love of his fellowmen as any one else. I believe I have 
 that true feeling of stewardship, and it is a power of 
 strength, perhaps the greatest strength that a rich man 
 can possess. I have grown to believe of our rich men, as 
 Roosevelt once said of trusts, that some are good and some 
 are bad. I try to be one of the good ones. But philan 
 thropy is a difficult thing to dispense. In my own ex 
 perience, I have managed to get rid of a bunch of money 
 now and then in that cause. But it hardly counts. You 
 can dedicate all the buildings, endowments, and funds 
 you want to, but it really doesn't appeal to the people 
 much. You are still the millionaire, and they the people. 
 They look upon those things as merely monuments to 
 millionaires. The other day in Cheesman Park, I over 
 heard one plasterer say to another, 'This is Walt Chees- 
 man's widow's now. It uster be Congress Park when you 
 and I worked on that Bentley job, Bill. Its mighty purty 
 tho, en I don't blame Walt's widow fer givin' the city a 
 hundred thousand fer to change the name. It was a 
 dammed good speculation so fer as monuments are con 
 cerned.' 'That's right, Jim,' said the other fellow, 'but 
 it'll always be Congress Park to me en you. En besides, 
 Jim, in them days we could drive thru the Park to and 
 from our work, en now we haz to drive around it, fer they 
 won't let no wagons go thru at all now, only autos and 
 joy riders.' This, this is the feeling we can't overcome, 
 Brown. It's all monuments to them. I'm afraid the 
 common people will always be the common people, and 
 millionaires will always be millionaires; and the greatest 
 thing we can expect of both parties in this generation is, 
 that they will help each other and be friends." 
 
 "You Jews can readily affirm that, Senator, for you 
 sit in the saddle of wealth easily and naturally. And if 
 there is anything in riches, the Jew, he of the martyred 
 race, should enjoy that privilege above all the peoples of 
 the earth. Thru long persecution and the brutal injustice
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 537 
 
 
 
 of your fellowmen, you were compelled in years past to 
 accumulate fortunes for your very self protection, and 
 with those fortunes you are perfectly at home and at all 
 times their masters. But I, on the other hand, am a 
 Puritan; and Puritans are as unused to an excess of 
 material wealth and as out of place with it as a fish out 
 of water. If it were possible, it would be far better for 
 me to awake penniless tomorrow, and with my two hands 
 earn a common living, rather than rest under the burdens 
 and responsibilities of my wealth. After long deliberation 
 I have set myself down among the plain people to at least 
 show my good intentions; and if I live long enough, 
 please God, I hope to find some solution of the problem 
 aside from my hopes to at least be a faithful steward." 
 
 "You Puritans have always appealed to me, Brown. 
 Their model was that of the most heroic type of our peo 
 ple. They are the Maccabees of the Anglo-Saxon race. 
 They preserved the liberties of England and were the bul 
 wark of this republic both in its infancy and in its greatest 
 crisis. How many times in my political career have I 
 thought of what their power would be if the occasion 
 should again arise to unite them in a common cause. 
 That that day will come I truly believe, and I have not 
 forgotten that from the days of William the Silent and 
 Oliver Cromwell to this very hour, these two peoples have 
 been in the closest sympathy and working the greatest 
 reforms. It has been my fondest hope that here in this 
 wonderful Colorado, the heart and the crown of America, 
 we could found a civilization in conjunction with every 
 church, creed, sect, and people of our commonwealth, 
 and which for lack of a better term, I call the CIVILIZA 
 TION of the JUST EQUATION; which would remove 
 from all poor men the distress of Poverty and from all rich 
 men the curse of Mammon. I believe that with the wonder 
 ful cosmopolitan population of our state, comprising repre 
 sentatives of nearly all the peoples of the earth, we can here 
 produce that dream of ancient Israel, a commonwealth, 
 " Where every man shall sit under his own vine and fig 
 tree; and none shall make him afraid." To accomplish
 
 538 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 
 
 this I believe good millionaires are necessary, and by a 
 good millionaire I mean a good steward ; a man who can 
 so devote and administer his fortune as to aid and emanci 
 pate his rich brethren from the predatory barbarism of 
 Mammon, and his poorer brethren from the pinch and 
 tyranny of Poverty. David's Israel was too poor materially, 
 tho rich spiritually. Solomon's too rich materially, too 
 poor spiritually. What we need is an Israel rich enough 
 materially to adequately support the greater structure of 
 spirituality. Tho people little dream of it, and tho it 
 would be folly to thus pose, yet for this cause, Mr. Brown, 
 I paid the price of politics and bore all the infamous 
 charges and slanders of the campaign, that I might be 
 come a factor in the founding of this newer, this purer, 
 this better and greater civilization. Nourished in the 
 bosom of the freest people of the world, the Swiss, my 
 father before me dreamed of a world Switzerland, a world 
 republic, a world Israel; and here within the shadow of 
 the Rocky Mountains, the Alps of America, I have not 
 forgotten that I am his son and that my life is dedicated 
 to that same cause. And if here within the sacred walls of 
 your cottage you will pledge me to endeavor to rouse the 
 Puritan spirit of our state to this end, I will pledge you 
 my fullest efforts to arouse the spirit of Judah; and that 
 together we can interest the leaders of all the other im 
 portant peoples and bodies of our people to this desired 
 end." And rising to his feet with the dauntless spirit of 
 his race shining from his eyes he offered his hand to 
 Standish Brown. 
 
 It would be impossible to describe the feelings of 
 the man from Plume at this moment. It seemed to him 
 that all the vast fellowship hunger of his tortured soul 
 leaped forward to embrace the little Jew, but controlling 
 himself, he rose to his feet and covered the proffered hand 
 with both his own. 
 
 "I see and am delighted to know that you too have 
 plans, have ideas, a multitude of them," exclaimed the 
 senator as he stepped into his car, "Sift them down to 
 practicabilities as near as you can, and at the very earliest 
 moment communicate with me and we will begin the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 539 
 
 work. Ah! My dear friend, you have made a noble 
 beginning. A greater thing I could ask of no man. It 
 impresses me, and I am sure it must impress the world 
 at large. I credit you with having anticipated me in this 
 respect hero beginning the new civilization, a million 
 aire abandoning his palace and dwelling in a cottage. 
 Perhaps perhaps, my dear fellow, that great smelter 
 which in times past you were so determined to build, is, 
 after all, a smelter of human hearts, the hearts of a whole 
 world's people, which smelted and refined in the crucible 
 of human experience, at last melts down under the watch 
 ful eye of a loving God, to shining gold TRUTH, the 
 saviour of th@ world." 
 
 Outside and wholly secondary to the basic idea of this 
 volume, is plainly presented herein the spectacle of how in 
 nocently a man can begin with merely his two hands and 
 legitimately and honestly as such things have been 
 judged in the past acquire a large fortune. Also it is 
 shown as plainly and convincingly, the irresistible sweep 
 of American Plutocracy across the Colorado land during 
 the last decade, as doubtless it has similarly swept the 
 Great Republic in general. 
 
 Let no man dream that the day of the CLASSES is not 
 here and never will be here. 
 
 For it is here. 
 
 It is neither going or coming, but is here, NOW, this 
 very hour. 
 
 But this matter of the Classes is not going to be a repeti 
 tion of that bloody old struggle of Plebeian and Patrician, 
 Baron and Serf, Papist and Roundhead, Royalist and 
 Republican. 
 
 Great Lady of Jerusalem will never again eat the offal 
 of dogs, or peasant Maid of Orleans melt to spirit in the 
 flames of Rouen. 
 
 The treading of the wine-press of the nations and the 
 peoples shall no longer yield Blood, but rather rare sweet 
 wine of Peace and Justice.
 
 540 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 The American Masses will never become a nation of 
 servants serving an iniquitous Plutocracy. 
 
 No! 
 
 The American Masses will emerge from history a free 
 and enlightened people, and if there be servants, the 
 greatest of them will be America's millionaires, toiling 
 and sweating in the treadmill of their colossal and 
 terrifying fortunes, with the grim vulture of Anarchy 
 feeding on their livers as fed the eagle on that of Prome 
 theus, in the exact proportion that they fail to meet the 
 responsibilities of the faithful stewardship of those same 
 fortunes. 
 
 The American working-man now knows as well as he 
 knows that he has life and a free unconquerable soul, 
 that he has a Sustainer, a Partner, a Protector ONE who 
 is GOD! 
 
 And the American plutocrat also knows that to trifle 
 with his responsibilities as the steward of millions of 
 wealth, is invoking the wrath of ONE who is GOD ! 
 
 It has taken humanity the full course of history to 
 learn this, but it knows it now, and can never revert. 
 
 Once in the travail of the new born world, when even 
 the archangels of heaven failed to quell the warring ele 
 ments of seething tides and bellowing tempests, a voice 
 suddenly sounded in the all-encompassing vault of the 
 universe, and every element of nature hung limp and 
 prostrate, and every living thing fell prone. 
 
 " Be STILL, and know that I am GOD! ! I" reverber 
 ated the dreadful sound in the deathless calm of the awful 
 abyss of the Mysteries; and here in America, with this 
 reverberating voice of the Eternal One echoed in the song 
 of the Psalmist, and re-echoing on in the ears of all hu 
 manity; we know that HE is GOD, and woe betide the 
 betrayer of His word. 
 
 No~ nation is better than the mass of its people. 
 
 The gate of the sheepfold closes not until the weakest 
 as well as the strongest of the flock have entered. 
 
 Nations like sheep have leaders, and while the Deity 
 holds closely responsible those leaders for acts of corrup 
 tion, yet there is another vital principle at work in the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 541 
 
 development of nations; which is, that the people, the 
 masses, must also resist corruption. 
 
 Thus the weak as well as the strong have their full 
 responsibility, and upon the ability and the effort of each 
 and every one, rests the integrity of the nation as a whole. 
 
 Gradually America's millionaires, groaning under 
 their superhuman responsibilities and shrinking with 
 horror from the life of Legion and Hybrid, will part from 
 their millions. 
 
 Those millions absorbed by the masses, will gradually 
 raise the standard of living to that point where poverty is 
 unknown and riches scorned. 
 
 In that sweet millennium day, the soul, freed from the 
 thrall of SELF will bask in the golden sun of the UN- 
 SELF and dwell with God in the bosom of Serenity. 
 
 And in that day, for the first time since Man's creation, 
 will the material republics of the world catch the spirit 
 of that glorious INNER REPUBLIC of Man, the SOUL, 
 which alone, thru all the battle and blood-lusting ages 
 of the earth, has maintained the peerless form of Liberty, 
 in the face of the most despicable and fearful tyrants and 
 bigots of the earth. 
 
 Here! HERE! ! Within mine lovely soul, Oh God; 
 which Thou,, alone, hast made with Thine rosy hands, 
 and set me in the midst of joy to worship Thee! 
 
 REFLEX 
 
 Due westward an hour's walk from the city of Denver 
 and lifted high above the city as was the temple of Solo 
 mon in old Jerusalem, rises a mighty mesa known as 
 Green Mountain. It is a peculiar height, its formation 
 being neither that of the Great Plains or of the Rocky 
 Mountains and yet it bears the soils of both. It is a 
 neutral strip as it were, lying between the East and the 
 West ; betwixt the mountains and the plains. To Standish 
 Brown, who rarely fails to visit it on every Sabbath day, 
 it is the symbol of the new civilization. He fancies that
 
 542 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 
 
 the plains, representing the plain people, and sweeping 
 grandly upward toward the crest of this noble mesa ; here 
 meet on common ground the representatives of American 
 plutocracy, whose accumulated millions are represented 
 by the Great Hills to the west, beginning with the tower 
 ing, unawed, and peerless peaks of the snowy range and 
 descending tier beneath tier to the lower ranges and on 
 down to the foothills, and at last this sweeping descent 
 from the last green foothill to the base of this lofty mesa. 
 
 The summit of Green Mountain is as beautiful a heath 
 as ever clung to a Scottish crag. In the early spring one 
 walks among the yarrow, the daisies, the bluebells, the 
 clover, and the thistle. At its highest point, and from 
 -whence is a matchless view of mountain, city, and plain, 
 is a low cairn of glaciated stones, among which and par 
 tially protected from the weather, is a Bible. The day 
 Standish found it there, it opened at a leaf whereon a 
 certain familiar passage had been underlined, by whose 
 blessed hand he knew not, but which read as follows : 
 
 "Verily I say unto you, if ye have faith as a grain of 
 mustard seed, ye shall say unto this mountain, Remove 
 hence to yonder place ; and it shall remove ; and nothing 
 shall be impossible unto you." 
 
 Instinctively he repeated the passage aloud, and sinking 
 to his knees he closed his eyes and bowed himself in 
 prayer for the founding of the new Israel. As he opened 
 his eyes they rested upon a tiny flower at his knees, which 
 in his deeply religious mood he accepted as the answer to 
 his prayer. It was the same flower which had often felt 
 the tread of the Great Master in the deep valleys of the 
 Jordan the mustard that tiny flash of gold, which in 
 its particular period of the early spring gaily dots the 
 beautiful heather of Green Mountain. Thrilled and com 
 forted by the divine symbol, he threw himself upon the 
 heath reveling in page after page of the sacred volume, 
 and ever and anon lifting his eyes unto the mighty hills 
 of the West and then upon the ever descending billows 
 of the East. The sun fled the land, the stars broke out 
 one by one, and there at his feet lay the great city, its 
 lights glittering and shimmering in the midst of the
 
 THE THEATRE TERRIBLE 543 
 
 human tides. One of these lights far up toward the 
 gleaming marbles of Cheesman Park, was uncle Davy's, 
 and another not far away was Theodore Dodge's. Another, 
 close by the towering arc of the capitol building, was the 
 senator's. Still another, a daintily twinkling beam from 
 far across the Platte, among the thousands of other twink 
 ling lights of the North Side cottages, was Fiorina's. She 
 was waiting for him. ' 
 
 Slowly he descended the mountain and at the foot of 
 it he found and entered his car. A few moments later 
 the cottage was reached and he entered, to dwell in the 
 bosom of his family, where every true son of Adam should 
 live the life of truth and be comforted. 
 
 Standish Brown is facing a formidable array of antag 
 onistic forces in the founding of the newer, the truer, 
 the nobler West, the greatest perhaps, being the guilt and 
 burden of his own vast wealth, which has ruined many 
 a stronger man than he. Many hands will launch dread 
 ful blows at this undaunted son of the hills. But a great 
 power is swelling within his soul. 
 
 GENIUS, the invincible one. 
 
 A power that conquers all the foes of Truth, and eter 
 nally vindicates the master spirit of the everlasting God. 
 
 All hail ! To Genius, the First Player of the Sublime 
 Stage. 
 
 All hail! To the Theatre Terrible, the greatest play 
 house of the world. 
 
 That glorious temple of peerless thespians, which con 
 tains every source of materiality, every unit of force, every 
 breath of spirituality, and every fount of creation existing 
 within the compass of that most sublime and terrible 
 structure of tears, laughter, and thoughts forever Godward 
 soaring, the SOUL of MAN. 
 
 FINIS.
 
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