.
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 THEODORE
 
 IT TOOK FOUR MULES 
 TO DRAG THE BEAR. Pge 109
 
 The Adventures of 
 
 THEODORE 
 
 A HUMOROUS 
 KXT RAVAGANZ A 
 at related by 
 JIM HIGGERS 
 
 to on* of 
 
 The RougH Writers 
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 fry HENRICH 
 
 H. J. SmitK <Kl Devereaux Co 
 
 I Publish ^ * CHICAGO I
 
 THE 
 
 ADVENTURES 
 
 OF 
 
 THEODORE. 
 
 Copyright 1901 
 By The H. J. Smith & Devereaux Co.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER 
 
 I Making Acquaintances ... ,7 
 
 II A Tip on the Hold-up Trust . . 20 
 
 III The Woman with the Hatchet . . 39 
 
 IV Capturing a Preacher ... 50 
 V The Rough Writers .... 61 
 
 VI Five Lions at One Shot ... 74 
 
 VII An Ancient Cave Dweller . 93 
 
 VIII An Old Maids Convention . . 103 
 
 IX Kidnapped ... . 117 
 
 X Held for Ransom .... 139 
 
 XI Riding the Bear .... 162 
 
 XII Lost Again 176 
 
 XIII Like a Fairy Tale . . . . 194' 
 
 XIV The Battle Royal . . . 202
 
 LIST OF 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 It took four mules to drag the bear . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 Please accept him with my compliments . 17 
 
 Shook the exact change out of their pockets 28 
 
 You fail to wait for me if you dare . . 46 
 
 With hi back to the fire warming himself . 70 
 
 A large lion leaped directly at us . . . 118 
 Pulled hard on Sir Billy's ears . . .171 
 
 Nothing of note happened during the night 181 
 
 He let the bear grab him .... 206
 
 I THEODORE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 MAKING ACQUAINTANCES 
 
 1WAS detailed to go with Theodore 
 in his hunt for adventure. The Super- 
 intendent of the agency couldn't 
 exactly tell me what my duties were, 
 except that I was to go along, make 
 close observations, and to submit a 
 report upon my return, doubtless for 
 the guidance of future Vice-Presi- 
 dents. My acquaintance with Theo- 
 dore was limited, but encouraging, 
 7
 
 THEODORE 
 
 for once at a political meeting I 
 had received full in the face a hand- 
 ful of mud intended for him. It seems 
 that he remembered this considerateness 
 on my part, and that it was at his own re- 
 quest that I had received the appoint- 
 ment to go with him. And now I submit 
 my report, which must make up in truth 
 for what it frequently lacks in incident. 
 It must by this time be pretty well known 
 throughout the country that Theodore 
 is a man of the most peculiar sort of 
 humor, or, I might say, humors, at times 
 as grim as a grizzly, and then as playful 
 as a kitten sometimes the very statue of 
 dignity, and then the harlequin of laugh- 
 able trickery. In all these moods he has 
 challenged my respect, and particularly 
 so under strain, when no one could fore- 
 see how the prize fight would go, 
 whether it would be won by the favor- 
 ite or the comparatively new man. On 
 8
 
 THEODORE 
 
 such occasions I have seen him smile as 
 calmly as if the result meant no more 
 than the outcome of an ordinary Presi- 
 dential election, and this, we must all 
 agree, is the test of true greatness. 
 
 Equipped with a repeating rifle, and 
 as much lead as I could carry, I joined 
 Theodore at a little tavern in Michigan. 
 It was not necessary to send up a card, 
 and I went forthwith up the stairs, hav- 
 ing been told by the landlord to listen in 
 order to locate the great man's quarters, 
 as the rooms were not numbered; and 
 about the time I reached the head of the 
 stairs I heard a violent thump and felt 
 the house shaking. Then there followed 
 furious scuffling and a tremendous jar. 
 These manifestations of identity led me 
 down to the end of the hall, where I 
 rapped on a door, and, after a short 
 silence within, during which I heard 
 hard breathing, I was told to come in. 
 9
 
 I did so, and there stood Theodore and 
 a man of great size and muscular build, 
 both panting. After a quick shaking of 
 hands Theodore said: "Glad to see you. 
 But just excuse me for a few moments, 
 please. No, you needn't leave the room. 
 And, in the meantime, shake hands with 
 Lip Buck. He has come down from a 
 logging camp to give me a few falls, and 
 has just been accommodating me." 
 
 Lip Buck gave a sickly grin, and, 
 looking at him closer, I saw that one of 
 his ears was much dilapidated, and his 
 nose quite out of the straight. Theo- 
 dore braced himself, and Buck made 
 ready. I have seen a good deal of wrest- 
 ling in my time, but as a general thing 
 it has been slow, a strain on both sides, 
 with little action; but now I was to see 
 something as full of pictures as a dance 
 in a vitascope. The logger was one of 
 the finest specimens of manhood I ever 
 
 10
 
 THEODORE 
 
 saw, and he was surprisingly active, his 
 enormous bulk in no wise hampering 
 him. He was trained to a fine degree, 
 and I found out not long afterward that 
 he was the terror of all the camps. But 
 these accomplishments and this prestige 
 availed him nothing. I couldn't see how 
 it was done, it was so sudden, but Theo- 
 dore pivoted him on his hip, spun him 
 around with an upward tendency and 
 jumped from under him. Lip turned in 
 mid air for a violent whirl or two, and 
 then shot to the right, then to the left, 
 and then came down upon his right 
 shoulder, his legs tangling even after he 
 had struck. After a time he was all 
 down on the floor, where he lay with- 
 out motion. 
 
 "Theodore," said I, in some alarm, 
 "I'm afraid you have killed him." 
 
 A bright smile lighted the great man's 
 face. "Let us hope not," he replied, 
 ii
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Let us hope not, for the country can't 
 afford to lose good men, and Lip is a 
 leader. See, he is coming round." 
 
 Lip got up, and in a dazed way began 
 to look around for his hat. He found it, 
 put it on, and said: "Well, guess I'll be 
 goinV 
 
 "Don't be in a hurry," says Theodore. 
 "You've got all day before you." 
 
 "Yes, I know, but I got to see a doc- 
 tor, I guess." 
 
 "Oh, in that case don't let me detain 
 you. By the way, if you can wait till 
 you get there, call on Dr. Mix, five miles 
 out. He is an accommodating man, and 
 helped me out not long ago when I felt 
 lonesome and low-spirited. Although 
 not much of a boxer, he stood up before 
 me for two rounds, just to please. I 
 told him I wouldn't forget his kindness, 
 and I'd like to throw trade his way. But 
 if you can't wait, you can't, so that's all 
 
 12
 
 THEODORE 
 
 ithere is to it. But hold on a moment, 
 Lip. I want to thank you for your sup- 
 port. I" 
 
 "That's all right. I couldn't vote agin 
 you." 
 
 "Oh, I don't mean that sort of sup- 
 port. Voting is all well enough, but I 
 mean for your support on this occasion 
 coming here and cheering me when 
 you must have known that I was de- 
 pressed. Well, good-bye." 
 
 When the logger was gone Theodore 
 smiled upon me, and I asked him, with 
 some uneasiness, if I were expected to 
 take Lip's place. "Oh, no," he replied, 
 encouragingly. "You are simply to go 
 along in the capacity of detective." 
 
 "But not to ward off danger, for that 
 is what you are looking for," said I. "It 
 must be for something else." 
 
 Theodore smiled again, and said: "In 
 all avocations a man is placed at a de- 
 13
 
 THEODORE 
 
 cided advantage if he be accompanied 
 by a trained mind' I don't mean the 
 mind that has been brushed and dusted 
 by books, but the mind sharpened by 
 observation; in short, I thought that pos- 
 sibly you might, in your trained shrewd- 
 ness, discover new combative pleasures, 
 new tests and sensations for the spirit 
 of adventure. The fact is, this tour 
 of adventure is to be a profound se- 
 cret " 
 
 "And you want me to keep the re- 
 porters off. Is that it?" 
 
 The dark shadow of disappointment 
 fell upon his face. "I see that you don't 
 understand your business," said he. 
 "This is a secret, of course, but I want 
 you to see that the reporters do get on 
 to it without my knowledge. That is 
 one feature of your duties. But the main 
 one is that, instead of keeping me out 
 of danger, you must stealthily run me 
 into it." 14
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I understand." 
 
 'Thank you. I beein to take hope. 
 Let us go out for a walk." 
 
 We walked out from the hotel. When 
 some distance away, and after a long 
 silence, Theodore said: "I have many 
 pleasant memories of the campaign. It 
 was a glorious epoch in our history. But, 
 do you know, I have been sad since it 
 was over? There was so much of life 
 
 about it." 
 
 "I can well believe you must be, and 
 I am here to do my best to help you 
 out." 
 
 "Good. But would you mind step- 
 ping off there about ten feet and shying 
 a stone at me by way of reminiscence?" 
 
 I stepped off, grabbled about, found 
 a ten-ounce bowlder and threw it at him. 
 He ducked in a dignified way, and said, 
 "Thanks." The village was unusually 
 quiet, considering who was in town, and 
 15
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I said something about it, when all of a 
 sudden there was a loud cry of "Mad 
 dog!" The few villagers in the street 
 took to their heels, and I was about to 
 scamper, for I am never at ease when a 
 mad dog is near, but Theodore quietly 
 remarked: ''Don't be in a hurry. The 
 dog evidently doesn't know that I am 
 here." 
 
 "And he ain't likely to care, even if he 
 should know," I replied, feeling a chill 
 creep up my back; and a moment later 
 I believe that I should have run like a 
 deer, for here came the mad dog with 
 his tongue hanging out like a strip of 
 red flannel; but Theodore touched me 
 and all fear was gone in an instant. Still, 
 I took the precaution to step behind 
 Theodore. The dog made a lunge, 
 and, in a dignified manner, full of 
 self-respect and reserved strength, 
 Theodore caught him about the neck 
 16
 
 PLEASE ACCEPT HIM WITH 
 
 MY COMPLIMENTS." Page 17
 
 THEODORE 
 
 with both hands, and, without the 
 apparent strain of a muscle, choked 
 him till his tongue lolled limp, then 
 bowed to the Mayor, held forth the 
 lifeless brute, and said: "Please accept 
 him, with my compliments." 
 
 It struck me that our adventures were 
 beginning ahead of time, but Theodore 
 said we might expect them at any mo- 
 ment. "Some men are born lucky and 
 some are born adventurous," said he, 
 with a modest smile that I shall never 
 forget. 
 
 Upon returning to the hotel we found 
 the place in a stir and a fright over 
 the carryings on of the cook, an enor- 
 mous negro, who had come to the 
 World's Fair as an East Indian lizard 
 eater. Though of a gentle disposition, 
 it seems that he had suddenly gone daft 
 at all events, he held a carving knife 
 in his hand, had a Swede girl penned up 
 17
 
 THEODORE 
 
 in a corner, and was threatening her life. 
 The terrified boarders were shrinking 
 about, not knowing what moment he 
 would turn upon them. "Bug house," 
 said Teddy, pushing his way to the front. 
 "Here, fellow, drop that knife." 
 
 "Kiougi kang ki ki!" exclaimed the 
 madman, making a swipe at Ted. The 
 landlady shrieked, and the local minister, 
 who had dropped in to take dinner, be- 
 gan to mutter something that sounded 
 like a prayer. 
 
 "Kuc mick ju ju!" exclaimed the liz- 
 ard eater, preparing for another swipe. 
 
 "Oh!" cried the landlady. "Such lan- 
 guage and in my house. Brother Peters, 
 who would have thought that I should 
 have lived to hear this?" 
 
 All this time Ted stood with his eyes 
 fixed upon the lunatic, who, I noticed, 
 had begun to tremble and to weaken. 
 
 "Drop that knife!" 
 18
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Hick, gi, gi!" 
 
 "Mercy!" groaned the landlord's wife. 
 
 Ted quietly looked at his watch. "I 
 am not in the habit of encountering 
 crazy men," said he, "but unless you re- 
 cover your reason and hand me that 
 knife within two minutes I will stuff your 
 carcass with wheat straw and present it 
 to the hook and ladder company." 
 
 There was a gleam of reason in the 
 eye of the lizard eater. His knees shook, 
 but, with a grace that surprised us all, 
 he bowed, handed the knife to Ted, and, 
 in the softest tones, remarked to the 
 landlady: "Shall I have chicken or a 
 roast for dinner?"
 
 CHAPTER II 
 A TIP ON THE HOLDUP TRUST 
 
 THE next day we put our traps on 
 the train, and had seated ourselves 
 when in came Siler, the great ref- 
 eree. Ted grasped him by the hand, 
 with more feeling than I had ever seen 
 him show, and cried out: "Siler, I am 
 delighted to see you. Where are you 
 going?" 
 
 "Oh, I heard you were here, and I just 
 thought I'd have a chat with you. Wrest- 
 lin' much now, Ted?" 
 
 "Not much, Siler. I have had only 
 a few falls lately, Siler." 
 20
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "You are a great man, Ted. There 
 ain't none like you." 
 
 "Thank you, Siler." 
 
 "And, by the way, Ted, I hear that 
 you have dropped into another line of 
 sport." 
 
 "What's that, Siler?" 
 
 "Why, I hear you've turned book- 
 maker." 
 
 "No; that's a mistake, Siler. I have 
 never done anything of that sort. Who 
 told you?" 
 
 "I heard it from some of the boys. 
 And they said you was particularly 
 backin' a horse named Crampwell, or 
 somethin' of the sort." 
 
 Then Ted laughed. "Oh, I under- 
 stand," said he. "I wrote a book the 
 life of Cromwell." 
 
 "Wrote a book! How did you find 
 time? But I guess a man has to idle and 
 loaf once in a while to keep himself in 
 
 21
 
 THEODORE 
 
 trim. It's that way with me. So I 
 guess you got it up while you was restin'. 
 But where are you goin' now?" 
 
 "Out West to look for sport." 
 
 "I didn't think anythin' was goin' on 
 out there. Hadn't heard of a thing. Who 
 arranged it? Is it a wrestle or a fight?" 
 
 "Oh, I am going out to kill things 
 lions and such." 
 
 "I don't want to offer advice, Ted, but 
 if I was you I would quit cruelty and 
 stick to the legitimate. I like a good 
 fight as well as the next man, but I don't 
 want to see anythin' hurt. What are you 
 goin' to kill lions for? Are they doin' 
 any particular harm? Why don't you 
 kill welshers? Them lions don't hurt 
 nobody." 
 
 "You don't understand, Siler. But 
 you aren't an educated man, and it is not 
 expected that you should understand." 
 
 "I ain't a statesman, that's a fact. But 
 
 22
 
 THEODORE 
 
 do all great statesmen go about to kill 
 things?" 
 
 "Yes, the really great ones." 
 
 "Did Lincoln kill things?" 
 
 "Well, Lincoln was different. In his 
 day there were important matters be- 
 fore the public something to engage 
 his mind; but now there is practically 
 nothing to circulate a man's blood." 
 
 "Why didn't you go to the Philip- 
 pines, if you must shoot?" 
 
 "Well, there are several reasons one 
 is that I want sure game. I used to be 
 a pretty fair sprinter, but the Filipinos 
 are too swift for me." 
 
 I was glad when Siler left us, for there 
 is nothing I dislike more than an argu- 
 ment. He is a good fellow, and all that, 
 but he has been so long identified with 
 the prize ring that he, as Ted well re- 
 marked, does not understand the real 
 affairs of life. It seems that as the world 
 23
 
 THEODORE 
 
 grows older man stands more and more 
 in need of higher education. Even the 
 detectives have begun to understand 
 this, and particularly so the boys who 
 read detective stories, for otherwise how 
 could they write their experiences when 
 abducted? One abducted boy that can 
 write like the author of a detective story 
 is worth three abducted boys that can- 
 not. We have recently been given an 
 example of this, and nothing that I can 
 say is needed to make it stronger. And 
 look how much better a wife a woman 
 makes if she has had the advantages of 
 higher education! Look how much 
 more she is in demand, and observe how 
 much better speech she can make at a 
 club. Do you suppose a lot of hard- 
 working, ignorant women could have 
 talked, hour after hour, as the women 
 of a certain club did not long ago, trying 
 to wipe out the color line? I guess not. 
 24
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Why, after a while a girl who doesn't cut 
 up live things, and study the jointed 
 snakes in water, and smile upon diseases 
 that she has confined in a bottle a girl 
 who is unacquainted with such things 
 may marry for love, but not for money. 
 Men are getting so that they demand 
 value received when they marry. While 
 these reflections were running through 
 my mind a man came along and, halting 
 in front of Teddy, who for a few minutes 
 had been quiet (having nothing to oc- 
 cupy his attention), looked at him critic- 
 ally for a few moments, and then said: 
 "I beg your pardon, sir, but you look 
 like a thinking man." 
 
 "You are off," says Ted. "Wake up 
 some other passenger." 
 
 "Ah, I see you are a thinking man, 
 and are modestly trying to hide it," and 
 with that he flirted out a small-size news- 
 paper. "Look at that and say that you 
 
 25
 
 THEODORE 
 
 have gazed upon the product of the 
 greatest mind of the century," says he, 
 his lip quivering with emotion. Ted 
 took the paper and says: "Why, this is 
 the Commoner published by my old 
 friend, Mr. Bryan." 
 
 The stranger's face lighted up at this. 
 "Is he an old friend of yours, sir?" 
 
 "He is, and no mistake." 
 
 "Then you are a friend of mine, no 
 matter what your name may be. But 
 I am more than a friend of his. I helped 
 him to start this paper, and I am now 
 out canvassing for it." 
 
 "You didn't do half as much to bring 
 it out as I did," says Teddy. 
 
 "Really, you interest me. But, pray, 
 sir, what did you do to help bring it out?" 
 
 "I traveled all over the country mak- 
 ing speeches," says Ted. 
 
 The man grasped him warmly by the 
 hand. "Then, sir, you have done a pub- 
 26
 
 THEODORE 
 
 lie good. Horace Greeley started his 
 paper with not more than five hundred 
 circulation; but, sir, you helped to start 
 one that had fifty thousand from the 
 jump." 
 
 Just at this moment a noise at the 
 other end of the train attracted our at- 
 tention. "You'll have to pay your fare 
 or get off," exclaimed the conductor. 
 Two burly fellows swore that they 
 wouldn't, and the conductor, a smallish 
 man, wiped his red brow, for he didn't 
 know what to do under the circum- 
 stances. Notwithstanding the spread of 
 higher education, there are men abroad 
 who are still steeped in darkest igno- 
 rance. By this time Teddy was out of his 
 seat, walking toward the men. He did 
 not falter that is never a feature of his 
 programme. He walked up, demanded 
 the name of the station to which they 
 were going, and thereupon seized them, 
 27
 
 THEODORE 
 
 shook the exact change out of their 
 pockets, told the conductor to help him- 
 self, and returned to resume his pleasant 
 conversation with the canvasser. But he 
 was gone. 
 
 And now, overcome by drowsiness for 
 lack of something to do, Theodore dozed 
 off to sleep, leaving me to my own ob- 
 servations and reflections, and I couldn't 
 help overhearing a conversation between 
 two men who had just got on. They 
 were in the next seat forward. From 
 what I could judge, they were hold-up 
 men of Chicago, who had been off on a 
 vacation. 
 
 "I am glad that work is so brisk in 
 town," said one of them. 
 
 "Yes," replied the other, "but the 
 divvy is too big. The police in my divi- 
 sion are very exacting." 
 
 "In mine, too, but they say they have 
 to be, to make it all right higher up." 
 28
 
 SHOOK THE EXACT CHANGE 
 OUT OF THEIR POCKETS. Page 28
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I got a letter from my sub the other 
 day and he told me they wanted half." 
 
 "That's too much. I don't mind giv- 
 ing- a third, but a half " and he shook 
 
 his head. 
 
 "I understand," said the first speaker, 
 "that the police are talking of organiz- 
 ing a hold-up trust, and if they do we 
 ought to be in on the ground floor." 
 
 "Looks so to me. We have been in 
 the trade long enough. Who are them 
 duffers just behind?" 
 
 "I guess one of them is an English 
 Lord and the other his valet." 
 
 "They must have dough. Suppose 
 we try 'em when the train stops for 
 supper?" 
 
 The other one agreed, and I closed my 
 eyes just as he looked around, and from 
 that time on I felt that I was watched; 
 for, being a detective, I have many intui- 
 tions unknown to the average man. I 
 29
 
 THEODORE 
 
 wanted to tell Theodore of our danger, 
 but could not. They were villainous- 
 looking ducks, and I knew that they 
 would cut our throats in a minute. Just 
 then the train reached the supper station 
 and Ted woke up. "I have had a charm- 
 ing nap," says he. "I dreamed that some 
 fellows had me tied to a stake out in 
 Kansas and were going to burn me." 
 He hastened out and I followed as fast 
 as I could, with a view of telling him of 
 his danger, but I did not overtake him 
 until he was in the dining-room; in fact, 
 he was seated and ready to eat when I 
 reached the table. Fortunately, the two 
 hold-up men sat at a table some distance 
 off, so I had a chance to talk, but with 
 extreme caution, for they were watching 
 me. "Theodore," says I, "don't look 
 round, but just over there are two men 
 who have determined to rob us. They 
 think you an English Lord and me your 
 valet." 30
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "A gross insult to you," said he, tear- 
 ing a piece of steak with his marvelous 
 teeth. "Anybody ought to know that 
 you are a detective. But I will deal with 
 them." 
 
 "That's all very well, but they are not 
 to be dealt with in the ordinary way. I 
 know you are more than able to take 
 care of yourself, but these fellows could 
 knock you over in a jiffy, have your valu- 
 ables and be off to the woods before any- 
 thing could be done. I live in Chicago, 
 and I know they belong to a privileged 
 and a pampered class, and you must 
 understand that it is hard to break 
 through the lines of long-established 
 prerogative." 
 
 "Who are they aldermen?" 
 
 "Not exactly that, but men who some- 
 times make it possible for the saloons 
 of aldermen to exist. They are hold-up 
 men." 
 
 31
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I told you not to warn me of an ap- 
 proaching danger, and now here you go, 
 turning the edge of pleasure. Leave 
 them to me." 
 
 I finished my supper in silence, some- 
 what nettled at the way in which he had 
 received my warning. It was not my de- 
 sire to intrude myself upon him to the 
 extent of dulling an enjoyment; I wanted 
 to see him have all the fun possible, but 
 fun can be carried too far. And besides, 
 the life of even a great man should not 
 be given up wholly to sport. There are 
 occasions when even a statesman ought 
 to be serious, or at least considerate. By 
 this time the keeper of the eating-house 
 came up, and, seeing that Theodore must 
 be a distinguished man, said to him: "I 
 hope, sir, that you have enjoyed your 
 supper." 
 
 "That I have," says Theodore. "This 
 steak has given me plenty to do." He 
 32
 
 THEODORE 
 
 then got up, shook hands with the 
 proprietor, and with never a look 
 about him, started for the door, 
 with the intention, I thought, of 
 getting back to the train; but he 
 halted just outside the door, I at 
 his heels, and said to me: "Step on 
 off there. I am going to wait for our 
 friends." I knew that argument was use- 
 less, so I obeyed, just in time, too, for 
 the men were coming, and as they 
 stepped out he seized them each by the 
 collar and brought their heads together 
 with a bump. There are some things that 
 even hold-up men cannot stand, no mat- 
 ter in how fine a state of training they 
 may be. And these two men simply col- 
 lapsed and lay upon the ground, when 
 Theodore turned them loose. I thought 
 that he had killed them, and he must 
 have thought so, too, for he called for 
 a light. The conductor came running 
 
 33
 
 THEODORE 
 
 over with his lantern, held it down, and 
 revealed the fact that they were barely 
 alive. "Victims of the great American 
 habit of rushing to and from meals," said 
 Theodore. "They bumped into each 
 other. But, fortunately, I heard them 
 say that they were not going any farther 
 on your train, so we might as well pull 
 out." By this time the men began to 
 recover, and as the train was behind time 
 the conductor waited for us to satisfy our 
 curiosity. The men came round after 
 a while, and, as Theodore had predicted, 
 did not resume passage on the train. 
 That man's intuition is marvelous. 
 
 We were now running at a high rate 
 of speed toward the land of real adven- 
 ture, with nothing to disturb the calm- 
 ness of our thought, save a red-haired 
 boy of about four years of age. He be- 
 gan to bawl for something which his 
 mother had refused to give him, and 
 34
 
 THEODORE 
 
 after she gave it to him he continued to 
 bawl. Pretty soon Theodore's eye fell 
 upon the boy, and the youngster was 
 silent in an instant, stopping on a half 
 note, with his mouth open. 
 
 "Hush that," said Theodore. 
 
 "Yes, sir, if you please," says the 
 boy. 
 
 "Why do you howl, anyway?" says 
 Theodore. 
 
 "Because, kind sir, I didn't know any 
 better; but I am wiser now." 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "Alonzo P. Juniperberry, sir." 
 
 "What are you going to do when you 
 grow up?" 
 
 "I am going to make speeches and kill 
 bears." 
 
 "Madam," says Theodore, speaking to 
 the boy's mother, "you have a marvel- 
 ously intelligent and promising son." 
 
 "La," she says, "I never knew it be- 
 35
 
 THEODORE 
 
 fore. But who are you that you should 
 have such influence over him?" 
 
 I saw a laugh dancing in Theodore's 
 eye, first on one foot and then on the 
 other. "Madam," says he, "I am Carter 
 Harrison." 
 
 "Pleased to meet you, Mr. Harrison. 
 And where do you live?" 
 
 "I used to live in Chicago, but since 
 my own administration began, I merely 
 stay there." 
 
 "I don't quite understand." 
 
 "Madam," says Theodore with a pro- 
 found bow, "permit me to enlighten you; 
 I am the mayor of the town." 
 
 "Oh, mayor. And what are your du- 
 ties?" 
 
 "I have none, Madam." 
 
 "Then what is it you do?" 
 
 "Nothing," says Theodore, with an- 
 other profound bow. "Of course this is 
 a humorous exaggeration, Madam," 
 36
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Theodore says, seeing that the woman 
 was greatly astonished. "I am some- 
 times kept very busy, hiring men not to 
 clean the streets." 
 
 "And is it very difficult?" 
 
 "Madam, to one as well versed in poli- 
 tics as I am, it is dead easy." 
 
 "I am really very glad to have met 
 you, sir, not for the information you 
 have given me but for the miracle you 
 have wrought on my dear child. Do 
 you know that he is a very undutiful son? 
 He has no respect for any one, and he 
 threw a brick at me just before we left 
 home. What ought I to do with him? 
 And he is so dishonest, too. He has no 
 regard for the rights of property. What 
 ought I to do?" 
 
 "Send him to Chicago and let him be 
 a constable, and when he improves his 
 disrespect for law and property he might 
 become a justice of the peace." 
 37
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Oh, sir, you give me such encourage- 
 ment. Well, we get off here. Good- 
 bye." 
 
 The woman and the boy got off, and 
 Theodore and I turned in for the night. 
 
 38
 
 CHAPTER III 
 THE WOMAN WITH THE HATCHET 
 
 THE next morning we awoke out 
 upon the broad fields of Kansas. 
 Theodore was fresh and of a rosy 
 hue, showing that he had slept well, with 
 no traces of the previous day's adven- 
 tures left upon him. I spoke about it as 
 we met in the smoking compartment to 
 put on our collars and cuffs. "Adven- 
 tures," says Theodore. "You mean 
 trifling dissipations. No; they never 
 hurt me. I have a remarkable constitu- 
 tion, you know. Ah," he went on as he 
 looked out, "we are coming to the land 
 of real fun. Look at that jack rabbit. 
 39
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I feel like getting out and having a romp 
 with him. But seriously, I must now 
 give over trifles and get down to earnest 
 and business-like sport. No more 
 pranks for me now, pretending to be one 
 man when all the nation knows that I 
 am another. But some of man's keenest 
 pleasures come to him when his identity 
 is hidden. The dignity of a name ob- 
 structs free communication, and to dis- 
 , cover human nature in all its phases 
 ought to be the aim of every really great 
 man. Sometimes we pick up by the 
 road-side a piece of wisdom that we could 
 not find in the halls of state. Mr. Cleve- 
 land and I regard him as really a great 
 man was wont, at troublous times, to 
 go forth and learn from guides and boat- 
 men; and but for his jug and his gun I 
 do not believe that he ever could have 
 settled so many vexatious questions. 
 Once he said to me, 'Theodore,' says 
 40
 
 THEODORE 
 
 he, 'there is more good council in about 
 five fingers of old rye than in ten heads 
 of old men.' But we have had great men 
 who were not of this opinion. Now 
 there was Radford B. Hayes" "Ruther- 
 ford," I suggested, proud to be of any 
 assistance to him. 
 
 "Was it? I believe you are right, and 
 by the way, I wish to take this oppor- 
 tunity to compliment you, for I see that 
 you are to be of assistance to me. Yes, 
 it was Rutherford and he did not be- 
 lieve in the jug. Consequently his 
 administration was fraught with many 
 mistakes, the institution of the civil ser- 
 vice system being one of them. Good 
 cheer was banished from the White 
 House, and foreign ambassadors were 
 compelled after a function to go home 
 sober and complaining." 
 
 "But you don't drink to speak of," 
 says I. 
 
 41
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "No, that's a fact. I do not advocate 
 drinking, but I do advocate the spirit of 
 liberality that makes men drink. In or- 
 der to be really great, you must under- 
 stand those little metaphysical differ- 
 ences." 
 
 "Theodore, we are here alone, and 
 therefore I can speak freely with you, 
 can't I?" 
 
 He gave me a smile which the fact that 
 I mention it proves that I have not for- 
 gotten. "Yes, thank you," I went on, 
 taking my privilege for granted. "And 
 now there is something that I wish to 
 ask you. You know that as a rule a vice- 
 president is not put up by a convention 
 as a candidate for president." Theodore 
 was not surprised at this. He merely 
 nodded and I proceeded: "Then how do 
 you expect ever to be president?" 
 
 He answered without hesitation. 
 "The average man put up for vice-presi- 
 42
 
 THEODORE 
 
 dent shows weakness before the end 
 of his term and, of course, is not men- 
 tioned for the higher place. He stag- 
 nates in obscurity presiding over a 
 body of men distinguished as the dull 
 obstructionists of the more vigorous 
 house. In this dignity he foreshadows 
 his approaching death. He is rusted 
 with sedentary importance stilted inac- 
 tivity. And by the time for another cam- 
 paign, some one asks: 'Who is that harm- 
 less-looking old gentleman?' Now it is 
 my aim to reverse this order. In all 
 walks of life there has been a return to 
 romance, both in fiction and in politics. 
 We like to read of kings and princes more 
 than we ever did our households are 
 set in a flutter over the picture of a royal 
 petticoat. In this country we cannot 
 have anything approaching royalty, but 
 our rulers can imitate the kings of a 
 former age we can hunt and thereby 
 
 43
 
 THEODORE 
 
 challenge a romantic respect and estab- 
 lish ourselves firmly in the public mind. 
 We know of a prince who had done little 
 to endear himself to the people of his 
 realm until he shot a buffalo that some 
 cow-boys held for him. Of course his 
 people thought that the animal came at 
 him red eyed." 
 
 "Theodore," said I, "your argument 
 is profound. They have a diner hooked 
 on. Let us go back to breakfast." 
 
 This man might be a shedder of blood, 
 I mused as we were at breakfast, but he 
 is also a shedder of wisdom. The waiter 
 came up and with insolence showed that 
 he expected a tip, but Theodore gave 
 him one glance, and he at once subsided 
 into decency and respect. "How won- 
 derful is man," I mused. I had heard 
 this before, but not until recently had I 
 seen it set forth with all the colors of the 
 rainbow. Theodore asked several ques- 
 44
 
 THEODORE 
 
 ' 
 tions and the waiter answered them, and 
 
 he did not even slosh the water-bottle at 
 me, but put it down in front of me with 
 stupefied consideration. A baggage man 
 came through and having looked at 
 Theodore, did not shake his brass checks 
 in my face. Surely the world was under- 
 going a great change. 
 
 There was yet a long and tiresome ride 
 before us, and I could see that Theodore 
 was beginning to grow restless, when a 
 woman got aboard. That was nothing 
 extraordinary, but this woman had an 
 axe. She wore short hair and a hard 
 and determined glitter in her eye. Theo- 
 dore was at once interested. "Chopping 
 wood for a living?" he asked. 
 
 And she gave him a look that made 
 him dodge. "Attend to your own affairs 
 and I'll attend to mine," she snapped. 
 
 "Good," cried Theodore, straighten- 
 ing up and bracing himself. He gave 
 
 45
 
 THEODORE 
 
 her a look and a smile, but she wasn't 
 fazed. She set her lips and looked at 
 him. 
 
 "Who be you?" says she. 
 
 "Merely a man traveling for his 
 health," says Theodore, somewhat 
 cowed, I thought. 
 
 "Then travel on and keep your mouth 
 shut," says she. 
 
 Just at this moment the train stopped 
 at a small town. The woman looked 
 out, snatched up her axe and got off. 
 "You fail to wait for me if you dare," she 
 says to the conductor, and he waited 
 with lamb-like patience. The woman 
 crossed a street and boldly walked into 
 a saloon. Then came a hoarse cry, fol- 
 lowed by the terrific smashing of things. 
 Out came, rolling, a barrel of liquor. 
 The woman caught up with it, knocked 
 it in the head, and quietly got on the 
 train. 
 
 46
 
 'YOU FAIL TO WAIT FOR ME 
 
 IF YOU DAR.E." Page 46
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "You seem to be a pretty busy 
 woman," says Theodore, as she sat down 
 near us. "I am," says she, and then sig- 
 naled to the conductor that he might go 
 ahead. After the train was under way, 
 Theodore spoke to her again: 
 
 "Granddaughter of John Brown, I 
 presume." 
 
 "Yes, you do presume. Shut your 
 mouth." 
 
 Theodore didn't like this very much, 
 and he began to twist about on his seat. 
 If she had been a man or an animal he 
 would have known how to deal with her, 
 but being a problem which even five fin- 
 gers of old rye could not have solved, he 
 sat mute in her presence. After a while 
 she spoke: "Haven't you- got anything 
 to do but to travel about you?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Madam, I am not 
 traveling for my health," says Theodore, 
 taking water. "I am on business." 
 47
 
 THEODORE 
 
 'Then why did you want to lie about 
 it? Haven't you got any better sense 
 than to lie to me!" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Madam. Ah, 
 but may I ask what your specialty is," 
 says Theodore, growing bolder. 
 
 "I am as you have just seen, in the 
 saloon business," she says, tightening 
 her lips. 
 
 "Pretty good business?" says Theo- 
 dore. 
 
 "Very," she says, looking out the win- 
 dow for another liquor joint as the train 
 stopped. There was none, however, 
 and she did not stir, but sat quietly nurs- 
 ing her axe. 
 
 "Any children?" says Theodore, notic- 
 ing her affectionate manner. 
 
 "Any what!" she snapped. 
 
 "Children little ones at home?" 
 
 "Children, little ones," she repeated 
 with contempt. "What do I want with 
 48
 
 THEODORE 
 
 brats. I have a better mission than rais- 
 ing kids." 
 
 "What brand of whisky do you prefer 
 to smash?" says Theodore, gradually 
 getting himself in better hand. 
 
 "It makes no difference to me so long 
 as it's liquor." 
 
 "I suppose now and then you tap a 
 keg of beer, or give an exhibition of a 
 brandy smash?" 
 
 "It don't make any difference to me 
 I smash anything." 
 
 We were now approaching another 
 town and the woman got up, with her 
 axe firmly grasped in her hand. When 
 she got off there was a slamming of 
 doors and a scurrying in every direction, 
 and just as the train started we heard the 
 ringing crash of glass. And thus we got 
 through the day, and as night closed in, 
 with myriads of stars in the rarefied sky, 
 Theodore said that the time had not 
 been heavy. 49
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 CAPTURING A PREACHER 
 
 NOW at last we were in sight of 
 the great mountains. "Prehis- 
 toric upheavals of eternal adven- 
 ture," says Theodore, nodding his head 
 in approval at them. "There's nothing 
 stale about those hills, at least there is 
 nothing flat," he added with a smile that 
 lives with me yet. "And here we drop 
 the dull affairs of family life, such as we 
 have been compelled to endure lately, 
 and take up true adventure. I can stand 
 a good deal of the tedium of existence, 
 but after all, I have nerves, and dullness 
 wears on me. And I am fond of the 
 so
 
 THEODORE 
 
 society of vivacious ladies, but that 
 woman we met on the train yesterday 
 soon palled on me." 
 
 We were to get off at the next stop, 
 a small town in the foot-hills, and 
 although the coming of Theodore had 
 been kept reasonably quiet, yet we knew 
 that we should be met by a goodly num- 
 ber of admirers. But on getting off, 
 the demonstration was different from 
 what we expected. The town was in a 
 great uproar, and apparently not on our 
 account. In fact, a moment's investiga- 
 tion was enough to settle the truth that 
 we had nothing to do with it. A fero- 
 cious madman, confined for shipment on 
 the train, had broken loose and was at 
 large. He had been prominent in the 
 silver craze, and was one of the most 
 highly respected citizens of the place, but 
 he went daft, and it was a matter of self- 
 protection to confine him until the next 
 Si
 
 THEODORE 
 
 presidential election. Thus much of his 
 history we were able to learn in a few 
 moments. In fact we learned more. 
 That morning after his escape he had 
 committed all sorts of depredations. 
 Knocking the station agent endwise, he 
 ran across a strip of prairie to the house 
 of the local banker, made himself master 
 of the yard, bit the clothesline in two, 
 kicked in the ribs of a harmless calf, bit 
 a hemp-haired servant girl on the top of 
 her head, ran round to the rear of the 
 house and kicked high into the air a pan 
 of mackerel that the banker's wife had 
 put to soak on the steps. All this was 
 likely to attract attention enough, but he 
 did not stop here. Just over the fence 
 lived the leading merchant of the place, 
 and in his house the Ladies' Library 
 Association had gathered to discuss the 
 question of whether or not certain nov- 
 els written by young women were to be 
 52
 
 THEODORE 
 
 admitted. Mrs. Callington W. Botts 
 was speaking, in clear and distinct tones, 
 when the madman appeared at the door. 
 "No reporters are wanted here," said 
 the hostess, seizing the madman and 
 drawing him into the room. 
 
 "I want you to note the attitude I 
 take," cried the speaker, "but I defy you 
 to print it in your paper." 
 
 A light of insane joy illumined the face 
 of the daft. He seized a Filipino bat- 
 tle axe (brought from Luzon by J. V. 
 Patfitzric, suttler) swung it around, and 
 with a distressing but it must be admitted 
 a tuneful whang, brought it down upon 
 the installment piano. The scene 
 changed from one of literary progress, 
 where experience counted for so much, 
 to one of physical astonishment and 
 fright, where experience counted for 
 nothing. Just at this moment the serv- 
 ant girl entered with a broad tray of red 
 53
 
 THEODORE 
 
 and yellow refreshments. The terrified 
 company fled at the sound of the whang, 
 but the stupid girl, thinking that the 
 madman was giving some sort of piano 
 recital, stood mutely waiting for him to 
 taste her ware. He had been on the 
 flattened outside of politics so often that 
 kicking was his Prince Albert I mean 
 his long suit and with his toe under 
 the tray he plastered the red and yellow 
 stuff on the ceiling. The girl picked up 
 the tray and stupidly walked out to get 
 another load, but the madman did not 
 wait for her return. Out of an Oriental 
 jar he grabbed an armful of golf sticks, 
 ran into the yard and amused himself by 
 throwing them at the fleeing members 
 of the library association, giving hefty 
 Mrs. Potgilder an awful thump as she was 
 poised on the fence, unable to get off. 
 By this time the city authorities were 
 after him, but armed with a golf stick, 
 54
 
 THEODORE 
 
 he swept them from his pathway and pur- 
 sued his destructive course. And now, 
 just as we got off the train, he was at 
 large somewhere down the road. Natu- 
 rally the helpless populace turned to 
 Theodore for assistance, and I saw him 
 smile. "Be of good cheer," said he to the 
 mayor, and immediately set off down 
 the road. "It seems that I am to be be- 
 set with lunatics," said he to me, as we 
 walked along briskly together. I hadn't 
 forgotten the lizard eater, but he had 
 only a knife while this chap had a golf 
 stick. Years ago I was scalped while 
 playing shinny, and ever since then I 
 have trembled in mortal dread at the 
 sight of a crooked stick, but I concealed 
 my fear from Theodore. He is all nerve 
 and can't understand why any man 
 should dread any sort of weapon. Well, 
 we had gone some distance when we saw 
 a man coming toward us, with a golf 
 
 55
 
 THEODORE 
 
 stick in his hand. I drew back, but 
 Theodore bade me not to be afraid, and 
 his command for it was a command 
 more than a bidding his command took 
 some of the scare out of me as it always 
 does; still, I was nervous. "I will pre- 
 tend that I am going to pass him and 
 then leap on him unawares," says Theo- 
 dore. I had provided a rope, and Theo- 
 dore told me to have it handy. "And 
 have your handkerchief ready to gag 
 him," says he. "Nothing can yell 
 louder than a madman thwarted, and I 
 don't want any noise." 
 
 The man came along at a brisk pace. 
 He was a stalwart fellow, taller and 
 broatler than Theodore. And knowing 
 that madmen are for a time gifted with 
 an almost superhuman strength, I con- 
 fess that I was not altogether easy as to 
 the outcome of the struggle. And strug- 
 gle it was. The madman evidently sus- 
 56
 
 THEODORE 
 
 pected nothing. His mind must have 
 been wandering, for he was humming a 
 tune, but I did not see any music in his 
 eye as he raised it in a quick glance. 
 The next moment he was in the bear- 
 like embrace of our hero. He howled 
 and strove with his great strength to 
 free himself but Theodore tripped him, 
 and tied him while he still yelled. And 
 then we gagged him. Then began the 
 triumphant march back to the town. 
 The people saw us coming and many of 
 them ran to meet us among them the 
 president of the library association whose 
 feminine instincts suggested to her that 
 she should have first revenge for the yel- 
 low and red stuff still dripping from her 
 ceiling. But when she reached us, she 
 threw up her hands and gave a loud cry. 
 "Mercy on us!" she shrieked, "this is the 
 Rev. Mr. Solomon Brown." And so in- 
 deed it proved to be. He was on his 
 57
 
 THEODORE 
 
 way to town to play golf with the young 
 ladies of the Simpering Society. We 
 stood dumfounded, not knowing what 
 to say, but Theodore, who is never long 
 at a loss for a word or a mode of proced- 
 ure, remarked, when the minister had 
 been liberated: "Sir, I fear that some mis- 
 take has been made here." 
 
 "So it appears, sir," replied the min- 
 ister, trying to smile, but failing. Ah, 
 it takes Theodore to smile at anything. 
 
 "I was under the belief, sir, that I was 
 doing the public a good turn," says 
 Theodore. 
 
 "Sir," says the preacher, "it is not do- 
 ing the public a good turn when you 
 muzzle the pulpit." 
 
 "I agree with you there, sir," says 
 Theodore, "but let us put it down as one 
 of the mistakes of the clergy." 
 
 "Sir, I have made no mistake. It is 
 you who fell into error." 
 58
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Sir," says Theodore, "I think you 
 invited error, as the pulpit often does. 
 You came along with a golf stick when 
 it was known that dementia had as- 
 sumed that staff. The men of old car- 
 ried the shepherd's crook, and flocks fol- 
 lowed them; but you have taken up a 
 fadish stick to follow a foolish flock." 
 
 "Sir, I feel your rebuke." Hereupon 
 there was a murmur of applause, show- 
 ing that Theodore had scored one on the 
 ho-li man. Then followed good-hu- 
 mored hand shaking, and the kind- 
 hearted clergyman extended to us his 
 forgiveness if not his congratulations. 
 He told Theodore that he hoped he 
 would make a wise and considerate ruler. 
 "I did not know it," says he, "but I am 
 glad to meet you." 
 
 Theodore gave him a choice smile 
 from a well-selected collection, and all 
 was serene. On our way to town we 
 
 59
 
 THEODORE 
 
 were met by the civic societies, and par- 
 ticularly by the young ladies of the Sim- 
 pering Society, who saluted us with their 
 sticks. The minister, who had aban- 
 doned his club as a result of Theodore's 
 rebuke, bowed his head with never a 
 word. 
 
 That afternoon, while we were having 
 our accoutrements put in order, we at- 
 tended a reception given in the parlors 
 whence the library association had been 
 expelled, and the girl brought in red and 
 yellow stuff; and so given was she to the 
 force of habit that, going up to Theo- 
 dore, she held out the tray and meekly 
 said: "Do you wish to kick, sir?" 
 
 The firemen and the venerable associa- 
 tion of Pikespeakers would have kept us 
 up all night, but we retired early to bed, 
 thrilled with the prospect of true sport 
 so close at hand. 
 
 60
 
 CHAPTER V 
 THE ROUGH WRITERS 
 
 THERE had been a skift of snow 
 during the night, but the day 
 dawned without a cloud. Down 
 the stairs came bounding Theodore, 
 younger by five years than he had been 
 yesterday. We knew that there would 
 be some sort of demonstration on the 
 street when we went forth, and there 
 was the blowing of horns and the beat- 
 ing of tin pans as our procession moved 
 along. Our cavalcade consisted of Theo- 
 dore, myself and three pack mules loaded 
 with ammunition. Just outside the 
 town we were joined by a score of news- 
 61
 
 THEODORE 
 
 paper correspondents, "Rough Writ- 
 ers," as Theodore termed them. And 
 now we all began our ascent of the foot- 
 hills. At a little place, the last vestige 
 of civilization Sock Heel, I believe they 
 call it we were overtaken by Skin 
 Bluke, a well known bear hunter. The 
 meeting between him and Theodore was 
 warm almost to emotionalism. Theo- 
 dore and he had been together at a time 
 that tried men's souls and their bodies, 
 too for cutting wire fences. 
 
 "I'm glad to see you, and that's no 
 joke," says Theodore, suiting his lan- 
 guage to the occasion, ever ready to ad- 
 just himself to the highest or the lowest 
 form of society. 
 
 "It's a pipe when I say I'm glad to see 
 you," says Skin, who during his varied 
 life had lived in the city. 
 
 "Have you had any sport lately?" says 
 Theodore. 
 
 fe
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Very little," says Skin, in choice lan- 
 guage. "But things hain't been alto- 
 gether dull for the boys. They had one 
 burning not long ago and may have 
 another soon, now they've got their hand 
 in." 
 
 "Beautiful day," says Theodore, turn- 
 ing the subject, for he has to overlook 
 the barbaric pleasures of some of his 
 friends. 
 
 "Couldn't be better," says Skin, with a 
 poetic expression of countenance. 
 "How much ammunition have you?" he 
 says, again becoming practical. 
 
 "About four tons," says Theodore. 
 "Think that will answer?" 
 
 "On a pinch," says Skin, shrewdly 
 looking round at the mules. 
 
 "Old Sir Billy is still alive and at large, 
 I reckon?" says Theodore. 
 
 "As live as a kitten." 
 
 My curiosity being aroused, I asked 
 63
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to be informed as to the person referred 
 to, and first by one and then by the 
 other I was enlightened to this effect: 
 Many years ago an enormous grizzly 
 bear announced his appearance by kill- 
 ing three hunters and scaring a fourth 
 into an epilepsy that had defied the skill 
 of all physicians. Shortly afterward the 
 same bear went to a camp supply store, 
 killed the proprietor, snatched an arm 
 oft" a harmless bystander, ate all the 
 sugar on the place, and turned over the 
 house. Later he attacked an ore-bear- 
 ing mule train, killed the driver, broke 
 the necks of all the mules and scattered 
 the ore at his humorous pleasure. Bands 
 of men were organized by the state to kill 
 him; they were drilled and accoutered 
 as if going to war, and indeed they were. 
 Billy met the first detachment in a nar- 
 row defile. Some say he hurled great 
 bowlders at them, others, more modest, 
 64
 
 THEODORE 
 
 declare that he simply used the weapons 
 supplied by nature; but be that as it may 
 or as it was, the detachment was almost 
 wholly destroyed. Other engagements 
 were fought, always with the same result, 
 until the state grew tired. Since then 
 men did not look for Sir Billy, but re- 
 garded themselves as fortunate when 
 they succeeded in keeping out of his 
 way. 
 
 Considering the lead that had been 
 pumped into him, it was now estimated 
 that he would weigh in the neighbor- 
 hood of four thousand pounds. Skin 
 swore that he could not be killed by 
 man. Old man Heffner had suddenly 
 come upon him. He had no weapon 
 but his pick-axe; but this he wielded 
 with fierce determination, knowing his 
 antagonist at sight. It seems that Sir 
 Billy was stupid, having just woke up, 
 thereby giving Heffner the first blow. 
 65
 
 THEODORE 
 
 And it was no light one. He swung the 
 pick-axe and brought it down on the 
 bear's back. Sir Billy sniffed and sat 
 down to scratch himself. The fact is 
 that the point of the pick-axe entered a 
 lump of lead and was not felt. Heffner 
 owes his escape to some sort of miracle. 
 He felt himself tumbling down the ra- 
 vine, and when he reached the bottom he 
 looked up, having fallen in a bed of soft 
 snow, and saw the bear looking down at 
 him, with the pick-axe still sticking in his 
 back. The old man could not afford to 
 lose his implement of daily labor he 
 knew that it was exempt from seizure 
 by the law, and so he shouted: "Here, 
 you can't take that. Throw it down 
 here." And he swears that the bear 
 threw it down. This was questioned by 
 some who knew the ferocious habits of 
 Sir Billy, but Heffner brought the pick- 
 axe home with him. I asked Theodore 
 66
 
 THEODORE 
 
 how he came by the name of Sir Billy. 
 "Once," says he, "there came up here 
 a representative of British royalty. Four 
 of his men were killed by the bear, which 
 you will learn to distinguish by a great 
 bunch of red hair on his breast. This set 
 the Englishman to thinking. 'Ah,' he 
 said, within hearing of the grizzly, 'I 
 see your point. You don't want to be 
 killed. We will see about that.' So he 
 set a big steel trap and baited it with 
 honey, and the bear was caught, but he 
 broke the chain and walked off with the 
 trap fastened around his ankle. 'Bravo!' 
 cried his highness, 'he belongs to the Or- 
 der of the Garter.' And ever since, 
 recognizing his title to knighthood, we 
 have called him Sir Billy. It was a long 
 time before he got the trap off, but he 
 did finally, and is now as free as ever, I 
 am told, with the exception of his in- 
 creasing weight, as more lead is added 
 67
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to him. I have never encountered him, 
 but I believe that if I get a good square 
 shot at him I can fetch him down." 
 
 "Are you goin' to look for him?" says 
 Skin. 
 
 "That is the main object of my visit," 
 says Theodore. "To tell you the truth 
 I don't believe that I could preside over 
 the senate of the United States feeling 
 that old Billy was alive. I have thought 
 of it day and night and I know that I 
 couldn't keep my mind off him, and a 
 man in so venerable a chair ought not to 
 have his mind distracted in that way." 
 
 Skin halted and said: "Well, if that's 
 what you're after you may count me out, 
 as the democrat said to the republican 
 in the days of reconstruction. I know 
 that bear." 
 
 "But you also know me," says Teddy, 
 his pride rising. 
 
 "Yes, I do that same, but not as well 
 68
 
 THEODORE 
 
 as I do the bear. My wife has been a 
 widder three times, she tells me, and it is 
 not my intention to make her one the 
 fourth time, if I can help it. I would 
 like to fight lions and wolves with you, 
 with an occasional fall out of any man 
 that needs killin', but that bear reached 
 out from behind a rock once, and made 
 a swipe at me, in five minutes I fell off 
 forty pounds or more, and I haven't any 
 flesh to spare at present." He turned 
 back and we saw him fade away down 
 the trail. And this was the sort of sport 
 we were going to hunt. I hinted that, 
 as Sir Billy seemed to be found easily, 
 there was really no need of a detective, 
 but Theodore reached over, put his hand 
 on my shoulder, and I said no more; but 
 I felt myself quaking from time to time. 
 A little further on we met a man who, 
 when questioned, said that the great bear 
 had not been seen for some time, almost 
 69
 
 THEODORE 
 
 a year. The general impression was, not 
 that he was dead, but that he had gone 
 off somewhere to visit his relatives. The 
 last time he was seen he had driven a 
 number of miners away from their camp 
 one bitterly cold day. Looking round, 
 they saw him standing upright, with his 
 back to the fire, warming himself. 
 
 When we halted for refreshments I 
 drew the stranger to one side and asked 
 him to give me his honest opinion about 
 that ferocious animal. He smiled and 
 said that there wasn't any particular 
 opinion to give. Everybody knew him 
 and everybody kept out of his way. He 
 told me that an enterprising man rigged 
 up a mountain howitzer on a mule and 
 went up into Sir Billy's territory. There 
 were bets as to whether he would come 
 back or not. Among the company was a 
 soldier who knew the workings and the 
 utility of that sort of cannon, and he said 
 70
 
 WITH HIS BACK TO THE FIRE 
 
 WARMING HIMSELF. P a g e 7
 
 THEODORE 
 
 that all the enterprising man had to do 
 was to get the bear to stand still for a 
 few moments; but, as every one knows 
 the restlessness of a bear, the bets were 
 against the success of the expedition. 
 It seems, however, that luck in some de- 
 gree was in favor of the bold man, whose 
 name was simply Elias Smith. He 
 walked on, leading his mule, and just 
 about the time the sun was setting, he 
 saw Sir Billy standing on a rock, bathed 
 in gold. His breast was partly exposed, 
 and the man saw the flaming bunch of 
 red hair. From his coat pocket he took 
 out a handful of oats and induced the 
 mule to turn round. But to save him 
 he couldn't get the exact sight. The 
 screw, or whatever you call it, couldn't 
 be worked, and the gun could not be 
 raised high enough. But Smith was full 
 of enterprise. He made quick calcula- 
 tion as to how much of a raise was 
 71
 
 THEODORE 
 
 needed, found two stones of the proper 
 thickness and coaxed the mule to let him 
 put them under his hind feet. The mule 
 didn't like it, but Smith gave him more 
 oats to distract his attention. And now 
 all was ready. The bear had not changed 
 his position. He stood as bears often 
 stand when they have their pictures 
 taken to be used for advertising pur- 
 poses. Smith struck a match. But just 
 as he touched it to the priming, or the 
 infinitesimal part of a second sooner, the 
 mule coughed and one of the rocks slid 
 from under his hoof. Then there was 
 a thunderous jar, the mule jumped like a 
 rabbit, leaped off the rock and rattled 
 down into the gorge three thousand feet. 
 He almost carried Smith with him, and 
 would if he hadn't held on to a sharp 
 point of rock. But the bear! Smith 
 looked, with his heart in his eyes, and 
 there stood the bear, shaking chunks of 
 72
 
 THEODORE 
 
 granite from his back and shoulders, 
 ready to have his picture taken. The 
 ball had struck about eight feet below 
 him, and had sprinkled him with frag- 
 ments of rock that was all. Smith, be- 
 ing a man of resources, took to his heels, 
 and the only reason he ever got back was 
 the fact that the bear was preoccupied 
 at the time. This adventure was told to 
 me as I sat on a stone, trying to drink a 
 tin cup of coffee. And I said to myself 
 that it was almost criminal to invite 
 slaughter. The bear couldn't be killed, 
 that was evident, and whether or not we 
 should come back alive, if we found him, 
 depended not upon our strength, but 
 upon his peculiar humor at the time of 
 the meeting. I thought it my self-sworn 
 duty to remonstrate with our hero; but 
 at that instant he shouted to us to mount, 
 and away we went, up into the jaws of 
 Sir Billy. 
 
 73
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 FIVE LIONS AT ONE SHOT 
 
 WE halted high up, just before 
 passing the edge of the timber 
 line, and a more picture-like 
 place could not have been chosen for a 
 camp. It was in a little plat of level 
 ground and was surrounded by high 
 rocks. At one corner there was a spring 
 that boiled up like water in a pot. We 
 were provided with a snug cabin for our- 
 selves, a warm stable for the horses and 
 mules, and a shed for the Rough Writers. 
 One of the leading correspondents/ a 
 Rough Writer who had distinguished 
 himself at hangings and stake perform- 
 ances, called on Theodore just as we sat 
 74
 
 THEODORE 
 
 down to our first meal in the cabin. 
 With a salute showing that he had re- 
 ceived a military training, he said: "I 
 have these fellows out here pretty well 
 in hand and would like to know as to 
 what you want sent." 
 
 "Send them all back down the trail," 
 says Theodore, blowing his hot coffee 
 with modesty and reserve. 
 
 The Rough Writer gave a hitch at his 
 trousers. This proved that he had been 
 in the navy. "That won't do," he says. 
 "We have been sent up here to write, and 
 we've got to write. Such are our in- 
 structions. Would you, therefore, mind 
 making out a programme of action, and 
 a list of the things you are going to kill, 
 giving the exact number? Our instruc- 
 tions enforce exactness." 
 
 This pleased Theodore, and accord- 
 ingly he scribbled off a list and handed 
 it to the Rough Writer, who took it with 
 75
 
 THEODORE 
 
 another military salute, and retired in a 
 gentlemanly manner. 
 
 During all this time my mind had not 
 wandered away from that infernal bear. 
 Whenever I shut my eyes I could see the 
 flaming bunch of hair on his remorseless 
 breast. Of course my experience taught 
 me that his exploits and his prowess had 
 been exaggerated, as are nearly all 
 things in this life, but even the grossest 
 exaggeration may have some sort of 
 foundation, and it was the foundation 
 that scared me. I am not particularly 
 afraid of a man or a woman. Together 
 with four other plain-clothes men I once 
 arrested Red Moll, alias The Dock Rat, 
 and at another time I was one of a posse 
 that gobbled up Newsboy Tim, alias the 
 Weasel; but they were representatives, 
 such as they were, of the human family. 
 As I understood it, old Sir Billy had 
 nothing human about him. 
 76
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Thinking about that bear, ain't you?" 
 says Theodore, shaking out his blanket 
 upon the floor. 
 
 "It is upon him that my mind is at this 
 moment resting," says I, in choice rhet- 
 oric, to the shame of Prof. Brander 
 Matthews. 
 
 "And you are aching for an oppor- 
 tunity to get at him," says Theodore, 
 winking at himself. 
 
 "Your honor," I began, but Theodore 
 told me not to talk like an Irishman just 
 come over. "Don't you know," says 
 our hero, "that according to the fattest 
 personage known to the stage, we, or 
 rather you, bringing it down closer, owe 
 God a death? Don't you know that?" 
 
 "Yes, I have heard of it, but I'm not 
 indebted to any bear to that extent." 
 This pleased Theodore, and getting up, 
 he opened the door, looked out and 
 smiled at the night. When he returned 
 
 77
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to his blanket he was calmer. "Every 
 man ought to have an ambition," says 
 he, stretching himself out and looking 
 every inch a soldier, "and it has for years 
 been my ambition to kill that bear. I 
 was about to organize an expedition 
 against him when the Spanish war broke 
 out to distract my attention for a time, 
 and then the election; but during the lull 
 after the storm the gnawings of my old 
 and most laudable ambition were re- 
 newed; then my mind was finally made 
 up. I am grieved to learn that the bear 
 is now away from home." 
 
 "He must have heard that you were 
 coming," says I; and Theodore turned 
 over and smiled a luminous shadow on 
 the wall. 
 
 "When detectives flatter, then is our 
 
 speech infested with niceties," he says, 
 
 turning again toward me. "But don't 
 
 be frightened," he saysi "I am here." 
 
 78
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I asked him if he would mind taking 
 hold of my hand for a moment. He gen- 
 erously accommodated me, without a 
 moment of hesitation, and thus assured 
 and soothed, I dropped off to sleep. 
 
 The morning was bright, and one of 
 the Rough Writers declared that the air 
 was as full of sparkle as the eye of a Kan- 
 sas City belle. This grace of compari- 
 son pleased Theodore, insomuch that he 
 gave the man a smile, and rewarded him 
 further with a chew of black plug. While 
 we were making ready, a lion peered at 
 us from the top of one of yonder rocks. 
 Theodore's gun was not handy, but with 
 his pistol he shot the lion between the 
 eyes. The animal sprang high into the 
 ambient air, and as a pretty stiff breeze 
 was blowing, sailed over and fell at the 
 feet of his master. And then the Rough 
 Writers seized their pads and wrote; 
 "The day dawned clear with the killing 
 79
 
 THEODORE 
 
 of five lions with one shot." In order 
 to enforce accuracy upon the Rough 
 Writers, they were not permitted to ac- 
 company us except at a distance. This 
 was wise, for the reckless pen has given 
 Theodore a great deal of annoyance. 
 Just before we started, up came a party 
 of men stretching a telegraph wire, and 
 within a few moments a clicking machine 
 was set up in our quarters. This was 
 the enterprise of the newspapers. And 
 I remember that afterward I saw the fol- 
 lowing statement, red-headed, in a sheet 
 known for the swiftness of its flight: 
 "The report of the killing of the last lion 
 by the Colonel left our press and was out 
 on the street thirty-eight seconds in ad- 
 vance of any other publication." 
 
 A few miles further up the gulch we 
 
 left our horses and proceeded on foot. 
 
 The Rough Writers were far in the rear 
 
 at the time we dismounted, and soon 
 
 80
 
 THEODORE 
 
 they were lost sight of, for now we were 
 not compelled to keep in the path. But 
 it was astonishing how far we could go 
 without meeting an adventure. Up to 
 noon there was but one incident. 1 saw 
 Theodore seize a large yellow stick and, 
 with the quick exercise of his muscles, 
 break it over his knee. I walked along 
 toward him, wondering what he meant 
 by such a performance, but when nearer 
 I discovered that what I had taken to be 
 a stick was indeed an enormous rattle- 
 snake, frozen stiff. 
 
 "Just think what his surprise will be 
 when he thaws out," says Theodore, 
 again taking the lead. 
 
 The afternoon was far advanced, and 
 still there was no adventure. We found 
 a place where it appeared that some 
 dozen of men had rolled a hogshead in 
 the snow, but with rising spirits Theo- 
 dore informed me that the imprints had 
 81
 
 THEODORE 
 
 undoubtedly been caused by old Sir Billy 
 at play. This brought my trembling 
 heart into my mouth, and I was com- 
 pelled to breathe through my nose for 
 fear of blowing it out upon the cold 
 ground. Theodore noticed my agita- 
 tion. "Your heart is weak," says he. 
 
 "Yes, I must confess it." 
 
 "Why don't you do something for it?" 
 
 "I don't know what to do. I am no 
 physician." 
 
 "That is not necessary," says Theo- 
 dore. "There was a time when a man 
 needed a doctor, but not now. Here, 
 eat a lot of this." 
 
 He thrust his hand into his bosom and 
 took out a small buckskin bag. I opened 
 it and found that it contained salt. "The 
 Chicago University has discovered that 
 salt is all there is to life," says he. "Eat 
 salt and the drooping heart will hold up 
 its head." 
 
 82
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I licked up a handful of the salt and 
 for a time forgot the bear, remembering 
 only that I wanted water. 
 
 At last to my great delight Theodore 
 said that it was time to turn back, as it 
 would be dark by the time we reached 
 the camp. But upon turning we found 
 that we were lost. This sickened me, 
 for I had my warm blanket in mind; but 
 Theodore didn't mind it. He consoled 
 me with this reflection: "A man is more 
 likely to come upon adventure when he's 
 lost. Don't you believe so?" 
 
 "I am afraid it is a fact," I admitted, 
 and Theodore told me that I'd better eat 
 more salt. Now onward rapidly we 
 strode, down toward the timber line, and 
 reached a few scrub trees just as the 
 moon came up. Farther on we came to 
 a large tree and here we sat down to rest 
 and to eat some frozen bread and salt. 
 While we were licking our cold chops, 
 83
 
 THEODORE 
 
 there came a low howl in the dis- 
 tance. 
 
 "What is that?" says I. 
 
 "A wolf," says Theodore. 
 
 Just then there broke out the worst 
 howling I ever heard. Hagenback's 
 was a mere whispering compared with 
 it. "The fun has begun," says Theo- 
 dore. "Let us climb up into this tree." 
 And we did. Theodore was usually in 
 the lead, but I beat him up among the 
 gnaried branches of the tree, and none 
 too soon was either of us, for a great tor- 
 rent of wolves came pouring down the 
 hill. Amid the loud and ferocious cries 
 for blood, we could hear their sharp 
 claws rattling over the rocks with as cold 
 a sound as a man might imagine. "They 
 can't climb, at any rate," says Theodore, 
 seating himself comfortably upon a limb. 
 
 "I am glad we have a moon. Ah, 
 now the fun begins," and with that we 
 84
 
 THEODORE 
 
 both began to shoot. I am not much of 
 a marksman, but here direct aim did not 
 count, for all we had to do was to choose 
 direction, vicinity, I might say. The 
 wolves kept coming and we kept on 
 pumping, ceasing only to let our guns 
 cool for a few moments. We had 
 brought as much ammunition as we 
 could carry, and were prepared for a long 
 campaign. The howling was frightful. 
 It was almost as bright as day, better 
 than day, in fact, for there was no glare. 
 One of the wolves we noticed was a 
 leader, and headed many a charge 
 against us. He was so active that it was 
 almost impossible to get a shot at him, 
 but Theodore clipped off one of his paws. 
 This made no decided difference, for he 
 rounded up his forces and continued to 
 come at us on three legs. We could see 
 that his lieutenants were urging him to 
 retire, but he shook his head, howled de- 
 85
 
 THEODORE 
 
 fiance, and again sprang to the attack. 
 
 "Keep the base of operations well cov- 
 ered," says Theodore. They are trying 
 to gnaw us down." A shudder passed 
 over me. They had ceased their efforts 
 to reach us by leaping, and were now bit- 
 ing at the tree. As soon as one fell he 
 was dragged back, and another took his 
 place. They were under marvelous dis- 
 cipline, which convinces me that the art 
 of war does not belong to the higher in- 
 tellectual pursuits. 
 
 "I have a sort of respect for that ras- 
 cal," says Theodore. "He has ability in 
 his line, but the reward of ability is often 
 death. Listen how they gnaw. Be a 
 little steadier. It is necessary to aim 
 now. Ha! I was trying to think of an 
 old tune we used to hum out on the 
 plains. Isn't it astonishing that I can't 
 hit the captain? Look, his lieutenants 
 are again persuading him to retire, but 
 86
 
 THEODORE 
 
 he won't. See, he is charging up over 
 the dead bodies of his men. He is mak- 
 ing a San Juan hill of them. Oh, I got 
 him then." 
 
 The wolf commander uttered a deep 
 howl and fell back, shot, as well as I could 
 determine, squarely through the head. 
 But this did not end the fight. Indeed, 
 it was but the beginning as we afterward 
 found out. Another took his place, a 
 slim and active fellow, and with this new 
 blood, the attack was even more deter- 
 mined. "He dodges like a hell diver," 
 says Theodore, "but we'll get him yet. 
 How are you enjoying yourself?" 
 
 "I am pretty comfortable, thank you, 
 but I am beginning to get a little tired." 
 
 "Well, lay off a while and take a nap, 
 and you'll do better work when you wake 
 up." 
 
 This was kindness itself, but I could 
 not, under the circumstances, avail my- 
 87
 
 THEODORE 
 
 self of it. At this moment I felt the tree 
 sway slightly, and in the brightness of 
 the moonlight I saw a shadow of concern 
 on Theodore's face. The enemy had 
 done fearful work at the base of our only 
 protection. "Pump faster," says Theo- 
 dore. The tree grew steadier, and I be- 
 gan to believe that we both had been 
 mistaken, when it was discovered that 
 so many dead bodies were packed about 
 the trunk of the tree as to hold it firm. 
 This was a mistake of the new com- 
 mander, and doubtless would not have 
 occurred had the other captain lived, for 
 his orders had evidently been to drag 
 back the killed and wounded. It grew 
 darker for a time, and then the welcome 
 streaks of coming day were seen in the 
 east. "Ah," says Theodore, "we get 
 everything good from the East. The 
 West could not have served us so. But 
 pump away, for we ain't done yet. Look! 
 88
 
 THEODORE 
 
 They are charging up over the dead. 
 Now, pump for your life." 
 
 When the daylight became broad 
 we could see just a trifle of move- 
 ment in the suburbs of the slain. 
 The long fight was over, and now 
 we walked down from the tree on 
 a stairway of dead wolves. But what 
 was this off a short distance to the 
 right? The representatives of the enter- 
 prising press had heard the firing, and 
 during the night had run their telegraph 
 facilities up to within one hundred yards 
 of us. As we approached, the machine 
 was ticking gaily. The Rough Writer of 
 whom I have spoken, one T. Ruth, came 
 forward and, saluting Theodore, re- 
 marked, in a clear, sunrise voice: 
 "Colonel, you have given us a hard 
 night's work, but that's what we are here 
 for. How many have you killed?" 
 
 "I don't know," says Theodore, "till 
 89
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I count my cartridges and strike a 
 balance." 
 
 "Well, no matter, for the news has 
 already been sent. We couldn't wait." 
 
 I saw the account not long afterward, 
 and am free to say, in the face of the 
 fact that I am running the risk of antag- 
 onizing the most powerful pull in the 
 country, that it was greatly exaggerated. 
 I have noticed that the writers of pri- 
 vate letters are usually truthful, poli- 
 ticians excepted, of course, but that as 
 soon as a man begins to write for the 
 public he is impelled to overdraw. I 
 don't know why this is so, but it is. 
 Should truth be considered dull because 
 it is simple? Are we forever to go on, 
 striving for forced effect? I knew a 
 newspaper man who turned theatrical 
 manager, and even then he occasionally 
 let his love of exaggeration crop out in 
 his writing, for one night when requested 
 90
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to write a pass for one he wrote, "Admit 
 fifty." 
 
 As we were now both hungry and 
 tired, Theodore proposed that we should 
 eat a bite and rest a few moments 
 before resuming our search for old Sir 
 Billy. I told him that we ought at least 
 to rest five minutes, hoping that this sar- 
 casm would fetch him, but it was lost. 
 "Well, four and a half, anyhow," says he, 
 and my hopes dropped. 
 
 It was easy enough to climb a 
 tree to a safe retreat from wolves, 
 and we might get out of the way 
 of lions, but with Sir Billy it would 
 be different. If half the reports 
 were true, he could pull up a tree, with 
 us in it, and thrash us to death against 
 the ground. 
 
 After eating some hard biscuit, we re- 
 turned to the place where we had left 
 the horses, and found them- that is, the 
 91
 
 THEODORE 
 
 best part of them. Their backs had been 
 broken and their hind quarters had been 
 carried away, high up ajnong the crags. 
 What cartridges we had left with them 
 were chewed up, so we were compelled 
 to go back to camp, and for this Theo- 
 dore began to offer apology. 
 
 "Don't put yourself to any trouble on 
 my account," says I, regretting the death 
 of the horses, but immensely tickled at 
 the prospect of going to shelter. 
 
 "It was that bear," says Theodore, as 
 we stalked along. "But don't worry; 
 we'll find him yet."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 AN ANCIENT CAVE DWELLER. 
 
 THEODORE consented to rest dur- 
 ing the remainder of the day, but 
 the next morning we started out 
 with a cartridge train of mules. .For a 
 long distance the Rough Writers kept 
 well up with us, trailing a telegraph wire, 
 but along toward noon Theodore warned 
 them off, and we proceeded in peace, 
 that is, Theodore did; but I was troubled 
 over the prospect of meeting the bear. 
 And I was resolved that upon submitting 
 my report to the agency, if ever such 
 report were to be, I would resign rather 
 than go out on another such detail. I 
 93
 
 THEODORE 
 
 would even go under the Twelfth street 
 viaduct, in Chicago- go at night, and 
 alone rather than risk my life with a 
 man who had refused to acknowledge an 
 acquaintance with danger. Yet, I like 
 sport. I have amused myself for days at 
 a time arresting pickpockets and fash- 
 ionable shoplifters in the large stores. I 
 am not lacking in a sense of humor. I 
 have laughed heartily at seeing a well- 
 dressed woman snatch a piece of watered 
 silk and look dry. This may be whim- 
 sical, I admit, but after all, it shows a 
 keen sense of the ridiculous. But there 
 is nothing ridiculous in looking for a 
 bear that you know can kill you in the 
 fortieth part of a second. I call that 
 suicide, and I have never found any fun 
 in suicide. Understand, I am offer- 
 ing these reflections not for the phil- 
 osopher, but for the boy who is to 
 be kidnaped. To be ful'y developed, he 
 
 94
 
 THEODORE 
 
 must learn the methods of the detective- 
 story writer, as I have before observed. 
 
 Now we were high up where there 
 was not a sprig of timber. The snow was 
 deep and the air was benumbing, but on 
 we strode, Theodore being as insensible 
 to cold as to danger. He found the old 
 tune that he had known out West, and 
 he went along humming it, greatly to 
 his satisfaction, but not to mine, for I 
 am fond of music. I have sat for hours 
 under the spell of the opera, brought 
 us from the East; and I might have been 
 still sitting there if the usher hadn't 
 shaken me and informed me that it was 
 time to go. 
 
 Suddenly Theodore halted in front of 
 a cave. I drew back in alarm, but he 
 told me to be of good cheer, for the 
 tracks in the snow were the tracks of a 
 man. "Let us enter," says he, and I fol- 
 lowed him in. For a time we could see 
 96
 
 THEODORE 
 
 nothing, and I received several sharp 
 bumps against the rugged wall, but after 
 a while we got along better. "Are you 
 sure old Sir Billy ain't in here?" says I, 
 and my blood ran cold when he replied: 
 "I am sure I hope so." I got behind 
 him, at this intelligence, and walked 
 slowly along to my death. Suddenly, 
 upon turning a corner, our eyes were 
 astonished by the sight of a fire. And 
 near it a man sat on a rock. "An ancient 
 cave dweller," murmured Theodore, and 
 I took heart, for I am not afraid of cave 
 dwellers. It was well said that he was 
 ancient, for the man seemed to have lived 
 in years too remote for history. 
 
 "Good day," says Theodore. 
 
 "Sit down," says the cave dweller, 
 moving over a bit. 
 
 "Fine weather," says Theodore. 
 
 "I don't know, but I infer as much," 
 says the cave dweller. 
 96
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Then we all dropped into pleasant con- 
 versation. Theodore asked our host if 
 he knew anything about the bear, and 
 he shook his head. "I am not here to 
 think about bears," says he, "but to 
 grieve over the mistakes of my country. 
 I have done my best in my official acts 
 and with my advice, but the country is 
 bent upon going to the dogs." 
 
 "Anything particular eating you 
 now?" says Theodore, and the old man 
 sighed until the cave echoed as with a 
 sad and hollow-sounding wind. "Yes," 
 says he, "the Philippine question. I have 
 warned the President, but to no purpose." 
 
 "Would you mind telling me your 
 name?" says Theodore. 
 
 The old man looked downcast and re- 
 plied: "I am Benjamin Harrison." 
 
 "I believe I have heard of you," says 
 Theodore. "You were once President 
 of the United States?" 
 97
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Yes, once. You have well said." 
 
 "But what are you doing up here? 
 Where is your gun?" 
 
 "Gun," sniffed the old man, con- 
 temptuously; "I want no gun. I am a 
 statesman, and I want to tell you that 
 the President is wrong." 
 
 "What about Grover Cleveland?" 
 
 "Ah, he is another statesman." 
 
 "But he handles a gun." 
 
 "Ah, but when he does, just at that 
 time he is not a statesman. He is a 
 statesman when he objects to what has 
 been done." 
 
 "Then, if I understand you, the essen- 
 tial part of statesmanship lies in objec- 
 tions." 
 
 "Ah, almost the whole of it." 
 
 "And what are you going to do when 
 you leave here?" 
 
 "I am here, as I tell you, to muse over
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the wrongs of my country, and then I 
 will go out and air them." 
 
 "But, if I remember rightly, you don't 
 come out squarely and say what you 
 mean." 
 
 "Sir," says the cave dweller, "the es- 
 sence of statesmanship is insinuation. 
 Come, tell me what has been done within 
 the past few days that I may give vent 
 to appropriate grief." 
 
 "Well," says Theodore, giving me a 
 wink, "the Philippine war is over." 
 
 "Over what?" 
 
 "Over the Pacific," says Theodore, 
 scoring one on the disgruntled states- 
 man. 
 
 "That, sir, is frivolity," says he. "I am 
 here to be earnest. And if I could only 
 get Mr. Cleveland to come here and rub 
 heads with me I think we could make 
 the entire country feel sad and humili- 
 ated. But your face is familiar." 
 
 99
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "That's what the Spaniards admitted," 
 says Theodore, scoring another on the 
 statesman. 
 
 "Ah, I know you now. They tell me, 
 sir, that you had an exciting campaign. 
 I don't know myself, for I was up here 
 in my cave the most of the time." 
 
 "It was not wanting in life," says 
 Theodore. "They kept me on the dodge 
 most of the time." 
 
 "And what are you doing up here 
 now?" 
 
 "Well, being satisfied with my coun- 
 try, I thought I'd come up here and kill 
 a few things." 
 
 "Sir, what you should assist in killing 
 are the measures which are now being 
 introduced in Congress. Army and 
 navy, indeed! Why, in my grandfather's 
 time a fleet of canoes was navy enough." 
 
 "But we ain't living in your grand- 
 father's days." 
 
 100
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "And so much the worse for the coun- 
 try, sir. Then the country was forging 
 ahead, but now it is going backward like 
 a crayfish." 
 
 "I know what a crawfish is," says 
 Theodore, "and when you spring a cray- 
 fish on me I don't wonder that you were 
 President once. But how long do you 
 think it will take you to get full of grief 
 this time?" 
 
 "I am filling up fast. I am, as you 
 must know, a man of resources, and I 
 shall soon pump myself full enough to 
 appear before the public again." 
 
 "Won't you come out with us and let 
 the sun shine on you?" 
 
 "No, sir, I do not want to see the sun 
 again for some time. Let me muse here 
 alone. Leave me. You shall hear from 
 me." 
 
 "I shall do so with pleasure. One 
 word more. I suppose you come here 
 101
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to forget as well as to fill your tank with 
 grief?" 
 
 "Ah, yes, to forget." 
 
 "Yes," says Theodore, "and the more 
 you forget the oftener we shall hear from 
 you," thereby scoring the third one on 
 the haughty statesman. 
 
 102
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 AN OLD MAID'S CONVENTION 
 
 44\/OU will observe," says Theo- 
 I dore, as we stalked on further 
 into the echoing defiles, "that 
 these mountains are the resort of discon- 
 tent as well as of adventure. It is not 
 generally known, but thousands of re- 
 forms are rehearsed up here under these 
 rocks, away from the prying eyes of the 
 public, and are afterward taken down to 
 stir up politics and society. But, in the 
 meantime, I wish we could find old Sir 
 Billy." 
 
 "Don't you think we are likely to find 
 him soon enough?" I ventured to re- 
 mark. 103
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Yes, soon enough for you," says 
 Theodore, with a small output of his 
 great stock of sarcasm ; and I walked on 
 in silence, knowing that any time suit- 
 able to his pleasure he could score one 
 on me. 
 
 It was plain that we were now lost 
 again, but Theodore said it made no dif- 
 ference, as the Rough Writers were 
 likely to find us with their telegraph line, 
 and I looked at him in admiration. 
 Never had I seen a man of such obser- 
 vation, and I am acquainted with obser- 
 vant men. I know Chief Kipley, of Chi- 
 cago, the keen-eyed, who, at a moment's 
 notice, can throw up his head, sniff the 
 air, and discover that there is no gamb- 
 ling going on in his city. I also know 
 Mr. Harrison, the Mayor, who discovers 
 the fact that Chicago is not a mecca for 
 the tramps of the country. All this 
 knowledge intensified my admiration for 
 104
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Theodore. How wonderful is the fac- 
 ulty of observation! It is the basis of 
 all learning, since from an application of 
 it we are able to draw the two schools of 
 philosophy inductive and deductive 
 and to set them fighting like two 
 roosters. 
 
 All of a sudden Theodore halted and 
 stood listening, and my heart fluttered, 
 for I was afraid that he was receiving a 
 communication from the famous grizzly. 
 "I can't make out what that is," says he, 
 to my great relief. "If it were not so dis- 
 cordant I should take it for a flock of 
 blackbirds. Listen." 
 
 By this time a fluttering and a sort of 
 chirruping became audible to me, and I 
 listened with pleasure, for my fears were 
 at rest concerning the bear. "It seems 
 to come from some sort of cave or shel- 
 ter," says Theodore, striding forward. 
 The noise seemed to draw nearer, 
 105
 
 THEODORE 
 
 and presently, rounding a rock, \ve 
 came to a natural amphitheatre, which 
 looked as if it had been cut out of 
 the solid rock. But this was not all. 
 Seated almost in a complete circle 
 were a number of oldish women, all 
 talking at once. Theodore, who, by 
 this time, you must know, is not afraid 
 of man, woman or beast, strode up, and 
 with a bow, says, says he: "What's your 
 lay?" 
 
 Hereupon there was a hush of the 
 chatter, and a woman came forward to 
 greet us. Her face, festooned with smiles, 
 was not unpleasant, and Theodore had 
 no hesitation in asking questions. 
 
 "Do you wish to know why we are 
 here?" she asked. 
 
 "Yes," says Theodore, "for I am not 
 quite onto your game." 
 
 The woman smiled and said that she 
 thanked him for his impulsive gallantry. 
 106
 
 THEODORE 
 
 This pleased Theodore, and he smiled at 
 her. "We are," says she, "preparing 
 ourselves to dominate a convention of 
 mothers to be held in Chicago along in 
 the spring." 
 
 "A most praiseworthy preparation," 
 says Theodore. Just here the magpie 
 chatter was resumed, and the woman 
 who was talking to us, evidently the 
 chairman of the meeting, turned round 
 and commanded silence. "I won't hush," 
 squealed a short-haired creature, snap- 
 ping viciously. "If you want anybody 
 to hush shut up yourself." 
 
 "And don't you dare tell me to hush 
 because a man happens to come along," 
 cried out another woman with pale curls. 
 And with that they all fell to talking, 
 and it was some time before the presi- 
 dent could resume her conversation with 
 Theodore. But at last, while a commit- 
 tee of the whole was drafting resolutions, 
 107
 
 THEODORE 
 
 each woman writing out a set to suit her- 
 self, the chairman proceeded to en- 
 lighten us. "Mother conventions have 
 accomplished so much in the past that 
 we regarded it as our duty to take the 
 matter in hand." 
 
 "You are all mothers, I presume," 
 says Theodore, and the woman frowned 
 at him. "You do presume, indeed, sir," 
 she says, says she. "Do you suppose that 
 in the past we have wasted our time 
 merely with being mothers? We have 
 had higher duties to fulfill. Mothers, 
 indeed ! Why, neither one of us has been 
 married." 
 
 "All old maids," says Theodore. 
 
 "Yes, if you insist upon putting it that 
 way. But who else can claim the right 
 to instruct mothers? Mothers haven't 
 had time to learn the essential requisites 
 they have been so tied down that they 
 don't know how to bring up children, 
 1 08
 
 THEODORE 
 
 while we have given years and years of 
 study to the subject. Why, we make it 
 a rule to write a paper every two months, 
 thus preparing ourselves to settle all 
 questions of motherhood. 
 
 "Don't you admit a married woman 
 to your order?" 
 
 "Well, yes, if she has not been so 
 indiscreet as to become a mother. But 
 we would rather have young girls or, as 
 you term them, old maids. You can 
 teach a young girl so much, and it is 
 always so encouraging to get hold of a 
 new and pliable subject. Ah, the women 
 of Colorado have set the world a great 
 example." 
 
 "Particularly in a political way," says 
 Theodore. 
 
 The woman nibbled at her pencil, eager 
 to get at a set of resolutions herself, but 
 being a perfect lady, she did not other- 
 wise betray her impatience. "Yes," she 
 109
 
 THEODORE 
 
 says, "the women of Colorado are now 
 the greatest in the world. We have 
 emancipated married women. We have 
 made officeseekers polite to their wives, 
 even in private." 
 
 "And, if I understand it, women hold 
 office." 
 
 "Why, of course," she says, in sur- 
 prise. 
 
 "Are there any women policemen?" 
 says Theodore, managing to wink at me. 
 
 "Well, we had one in Denver a very 
 upright, efficient and pretty woman. 
 And she did her work well, giving entire 
 satisfaction, but one day two tramps 
 came along and kissed her, and she re- 
 signed." 
 
 "That was unfortunate. Do you 
 serve on juries?" 
 
 "Well, we have done so, but dissatis- 
 factions have arisen. The wife of a 
 grocer in Denver was summoned as a 
 no
 
 THEODORE 
 
 juryman jurywoman, I should say 
 and the case took longer than was ex- 
 pected. In fact, the jury was what they 
 call hung, though why, .goodness only 
 knows; and the judge had them shut up. 
 The grocer was detained at his business 
 until a late hour, and when he went home 
 he naturally asked for his wife, and was 
 told that she was shut up with the jury. 
 He went down to the court house, 
 knocked down the door, and told her to 
 come home. She was crying at the time, 
 for the verdict was not going her way, 
 but she left the jury room with a parting 
 word or two, in which she called an Irish- 
 man and a lobster-looking Swede hate- 
 ful things, and marched out triumph- 
 antly with her lord, but not her master 
 no, sir-ee! not her master. The law 
 ought to have taken this house-breaker 
 in hand, but it didn't. The men laughed, 
 and that was all there was to it; and, 
 in
 
 THEODORE 
 
 would you believe it, that good-for-noth- 
 ing judge laughed, too. I wonder how 
 they are getting along back there," she 
 says, looking round at the resolutionists. 
 "I suppose they are all trying to insert 
 a new clause in our constitution. But 
 is it clause or claw?" 
 
 Theodore said that, from his experi- 
 ence with conventions, it was as often 
 claw as clause. "Then they are inter- 
 changeable terms," says she. "I thought 
 so, and I remarked as much to Miss Lily, 
 who took it in good part, but Miss Pearl 
 objected and Miss Maud took her bon- 
 net and vowed that if such were the case 
 she would go home. But see, they are 
 about ready with their resolutions. 
 Won't you gentlemen come forward and 
 sit down?" 
 
 We went forward and sat down, but 
 not in the circle, for that was a privilege 
 accorded to no man but a bachelor, to 
 
 112
 
 THEODORE 
 
 which state neither of us could lay claim 
 without falsifying his word. The presi- 
 dent stood near and gave us much infor- 
 mation concerning the habits, usages, 
 personality and general disposition of the 
 women who got up to read their papers. 
 And, in a condensed form, this is about 
 what she said: "That one is Miss Hor- 
 tense Bone. She is as spiteful as a set- 
 ting hen, and she wears her hat in a 
 shocking manner. I have heard, but of 
 course I don't vouch for the truth of it, 
 that at one time she eloped with a min- 
 ister and was caught at the railway sta- 
 tion by the minister's wife, who forgave 
 her husband, but wouldn't speak to Miss 
 Hortense again, and it served her right. 
 See that one reaching for the hair of Miss 
 Hortense there, they have separated 
 them! Well, she is Miss Consuela 
 Duggs. I have known her a long 
 time, and she has many charming traits 
 "3
 
 THEODORE 
 
 of character. They got her mixed up in 
 a little scandal out in Deadwood, but she 
 says she wasn't guilty. She says so, mind 
 you. And it is not for me to say that 
 she was. That one there with her hands 
 on her hips, gazing defiance, is Miss 
 Honeysuckle Butts. And she is so sweet- 
 tempered. I wish you could know her. 
 And she's so charitable, too." 
 
 "Any scandal?" says Theodore. 
 
 "Now, who told you? Hush, don't 
 you say a word about it." 
 
 "Look!" Theodore cried, pointing up- 
 ward, and there, as I am alive there, 
 standing on a rock, was old Sir Billy, 
 his bunch of red hair flaming. We had 
 left our guns at the outskirts of the 
 meeting, and it was evident that, with 
 one leap, the bear could cut us out of 
 them. But would he? My heart was in 
 my mouth, and Theodore turned pale. 
 The bear stood with his great mouth 
 114
 
 THEODORE 
 
 open, but suddenly, catching sight of the 
 convention, which seemed to have es- 
 caped his notice for a moment, he uttered 
 a distressing grunt and took to his heels. 
 We ran to the top of the rocks to watch 
 him, and for a long distance there was 
 a clean sweep, but the bear jumped all 
 the way across it, without looking back, 
 and disappeared over the mountain. 
 
 "Let us go," says Theodore, in a sad 
 tone of voice. We bowed to the conven- 
 tion and took our leave, taking up our 
 guns and pursuing the course which Sir 
 Billy had taken. It was a long time be- 
 fore Theodore said a word, but he sighed 
 repeatedly. "I don't blame him," says 
 he. 
 
 The afternoon was far spent when we 
 reached the crest behind which the bear 
 had disappeared, and there was a great 
 rock torn loose from the hard soil, and 
 all down the mountain side we saw the 
 "5
 
 THEODORE 
 
 evidences of his precipitous flight. But 
 darkness was coming and we deemed it 
 best to retrace our steps to the place 
 where we had left our mules, which \ve 
 did, finding them safe, with a telegraph 
 wire strung about them. The Rough 
 Writers were sitting there waiting for us 
 with a telegraphic instrument faintly 
 ticking on a mule's back. I am now 
 about to relate an adventure which has 
 not been reported by the press. 
 
 116
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 KIDNAPPED 
 
 THE next morning we loaded our- 
 selves down with cartridges and 
 started out on foot, choosing a 
 rugged pathway over the mountains and 
 dodging here and there to throw the 
 Rough Writers off the scent, as their 
 wandering telegraph facilities frightened 
 the game and drove the lions to cover. 
 "I am a great believer in the press," says 
 Theodore, as we humped along, "but I 
 don't think that the young men who rep- 
 resent it should usurp a license when 
 allowed a liberty. I am certain that Sir 
 Billy is as much afraid of a telegraph wire 
 as he is of an old maid's convention." 
 117
 
 THEODORE 
 
 All of a sudden my blood began to 
 freeze even before my eyes discovered the 
 source of impending danger. A large 
 lion leaped directly at us from a high 
 rock. But Theodore, with scarcely a 
 break in his interesting talk, whipped out 
 his knife, held it up and permitted the 
 sailing beast to split himself from lip to 
 tail. It was the most graceful piece of 
 work I ever saw. The lion fell spread 
 out flat, like a tiger rug, and Theodore, 
 looking on with a smile, observed in his 
 sweetly modulated tones: "How hand- 
 somely he would set off a corner in a club 
 room. But we have no time to stand 
 here viewing our handiwork. Yonder 
 comes a mule with a telegraph office on 
 his back. If we could only induce the 
 Rough Writers not to engage in such 
 exaggeration I should feel more comfort- 
 able. Come, we must dodge." 
 
 He ran like a deer, and I followed him 
 118
 
 A LARGE LION LEAPED 
 
 DIRECTLY AT US. Page IlS
 
 THEODORE 
 
 as best I could, and soon all evidences 
 of the press were left far in the zig-zag 
 rear. But in our flight we threw away 
 our provisions, to enable us better to 
 carry the ammunition, and along toward 
 noontime we became painfully conscious 
 of having nothing to eat. But Theodore 
 was equal, if not superior, to any emer- 
 gency. With his rifle he brought an 
 eagle down from a snow cloud, and I 
 must acknowledge that with a little salt 
 it was not bad. Theodore said that it 
 beat embalmed beef, and I had eaten at 
 the restaurants, set up in the big stores, 
 too often to complain. Just after dinner 
 we came upon a drove of lions, and we 
 gave our right arms good exercise with 
 pumping lead into them. I would have 
 enumerated the result, but Theodore 
 said we hadn't time, so we pushed for- 
 ward into the neighborhood which old 
 Sir Billy had claimed for his own. But 
 119
 
 THEODORE 
 
 we found no trace of him, except a rock 
 loosened here and there. Along about 
 four o'clock we heard the scream of a 
 panther, and as we had killed none of 
 that species, and especially as it was rare 
 to find one so high up among the moun- 
 tains, Theodore said we must have him, 
 so onward we strode, following the 
 blood-curdling outcries. At last we 
 seemed to draw near the sounds, and 
 then, suddenly, in a level place, we came 
 upon a low hut built strongly of huge 
 logs. The cry now seemed to come from 
 the interior of the hut, and we stooped 
 down and peered in at the doorway. 
 "This is a strange place," says Theodore. 
 "Come on, we'll go in." 
 
 "Do you think it safe?" says I, en- 
 deavoring to restrain him. 
 
 "Sir," says he, "I don't know what you 
 mean by safe. Follow me." 
 
 There was no hanging back after that, 
 
 120
 
 THEODORE 
 
 and I followed him; but no sooner had 
 we entered than a door fell behind us, 
 startling me with its noise. Turning 
 about I saw in an instant that we had 
 been caught in a trap, baited with the 
 screams of a panther. And Theodore ^ 
 realized it, too, for he sprang at the door 
 and strove to break it down, but it re- 
 sisted all his efforts, as indeed it would 
 have withstood the strength of a dozen 
 men, made as it was of heavy oak, 
 studded with iron nails. There was one 
 small window, about six inches square, 
 cut for the admission of air, and against 
 the wall there was a rude bench, which 
 was the only furniture. But what was 
 this over in a corner, that gradually be- 
 came lighter as we gazed into it? A jug 
 of water and three loaves of bread. 
 
 "I can't understand this," says Theo- 
 dore, stamping upon the frozen earth 
 floor. "Climb up to that window and 
 
 121
 
 THEODORE 
 
 shout for telegraph facilities." I did so, 
 shouting till I was hoarse, but there 
 came no wire to relieve our distress. And 
 it was distress, I can assure you, gentle 
 reader. This is the first time that I have 
 called you a gentle reader, if you are, 
 and I desire you to remember that fact. 
 
 "I have been in many a box," says 
 Theodore, "but this beats all. I wish 
 we had that telegraph office. Have you 
 any idea as to why we are caught thus?" 
 he says, giving me a hard look. 
 
 "Why should I know? I am a detec- 
 tive." 
 
 "I beg your pardon," says Theodore, 
 bowing courteously. Hereupon we sat 
 down on the bench, ate a loaf of bread, 
 which our hero generously divided, and 
 refreshed ourselves with water from the 
 jug. "Whoever keeps house here knows 
 what good water is," says Theodore, 
 taking another pull at the jug. "But I 
 
 122
 
 THEODORE 
 
 should like to understand why I am in 
 this trap. And it is a trap, the strongest 
 one I ever saw." 
 
 "Do you think, sir," says I, "that it 
 was arranged and set by old Sir 
 Billy?" 
 
 Theodore's eyes brightened for a 
 moment. Then, with an expression of 
 disappointment, he said: "No; impos- 
 sible. He is a wonderful animal, the 
 very statesman of bears, but he could not 
 have done this. I give you credit, how- 
 ever, for thinking of the scheme. It is 
 worthy of the keenest detective in the 
 country. But how dark it is growing. I 
 wish we had a light." 
 
 At that moment something came 
 through the window a wire-rimmed 
 lantern, and it fell at Theodore's feet. He 
 took it up, lighted it and hung it on the 
 wall. "Now, what do you understand 
 by this?" says he. 
 
 123
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I am further and further at a loss," 
 says I. 
 
 "Ah, truly, a detective-like predica- 
 ment," says he. "But what's this?" 
 
 It was an afternoon newspaper, and it 
 came fluttering through the little win- 
 dow, almost damp from the press. 
 "We're all right," says Theodore. "The 
 Rough Writers will soon be here." 
 
 But they did not come. We sat there, 
 reading exaggerated accounts of Theo- 
 dore's exploits. And we learned much 
 that was going on in the world; that 
 Chauncey Depew was indisposed; that 
 his physician had prescribed mutton 
 broth and a speech; that a New 
 York woman, after long persuasion, 
 had consented at last to have her dog 
 photographed; that the President had 
 congratulated Edward VII. on the 
 successful termination of his mother's 
 reign; that in consequence of the visit 
 124
 
 THEODORE 
 
 of the Emperor to Osborne House 
 the English were about to forgive 
 the Germans for making knives; that 
 Mrs. Lease had withdrawn divorce pro- 
 ceedings and had decided to try the old 
 man a few more falls; that tallow candles 
 were likely to take the place of fraudu- 
 lent gas in Chicago; that John Tanner 
 had decided not to be Senator from Illi- 
 nois; that Jeanette Gilder was still writ- 
 ing her paid puffs; that F. Hopkinson 
 Smith had sniffed at Uncle Tom's Cabin; 
 that this particular newspaper was the 
 best on earth, and that Hamlin Garland 
 was considering whether or not he could 
 afford the time to write the great Ameri- 
 can novel. This was all interesting 
 enough, but what we wanted to know 
 was why we were there. Who threw the 
 lantern and the paper? One of the 
 Rough Writers, of course; but why didn't 
 he say something? Why didn't he take 
 125
 
 THEODORE 
 
 steps to liberate us? Theodore swore 
 that he would dig himself out, and he 
 went to work \vith his knife, but soon 
 broke it off in the frozen ground. At 
 last he put out his lantern and said it 
 was time to go to bed, which we did, 
 and slept soundly till morning. The sun 
 shone in at our little window, and this 
 brought us good cheer for a time, but 
 that was all, for no relief expedition had 
 reached us. After we had breakfasted on 
 another loaf of bread we sat down, for 
 there was nothing else to be done, but 
 the investigative mind of Theodore, re- 
 fusing to rest, was constantly at work to 
 solve the problem of our imprisonment. 
 There never was a time when I was more 
 anxious to help a man out of a difficulty, 
 but, like himself, I was powerless. Our 
 only hope was the Rough Writers, and 
 it was for them that we were waiting. 
 Suddenly there came a tapping on the 
 126
 
 THEODORE 
 
 
 
 wall outside, and we leaped to our feet. 
 A rescue was at hand. 
 
 "Open the door," says Theodore. 
 
 "Not much, Mary Ann," came from 
 without. 
 
 "Who are you?" Theodore demanded. 
 
 "Oh, you know me. I am the chief 
 of the Omaha kidnapers, and I've got 
 you safe enough." 
 
 "Kidnapers, indeed," quoth Theodore, 
 his anger rising. "But here, I am no 
 kid." 
 
 "You are, for all my intents and pur- 
 poses. I have been on your track for 
 some time, and now I have you. Your 
 release will cost four hundred thousand 
 dollars in gold. If you were Mr. Bryan 
 I would take silver, charging, of course, 
 double the amount, but as it is you I 
 must have gold, and no compromise." 
 
 "This is an outrage!" Theodore 
 shouted. 
 
 127
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I am pleased to hear you admit it. 
 Are you ready to write a request for the 
 amount to the President at Washington, 
 or to Congress? It makes no differ- 
 ence." 
 
 "Never!" exclaimed Theodore, with 
 determined expansion of chest. 
 
 "All right; then make yourself as com- 
 fortable as you can under the circum- 
 stances." 
 
 "Come round where I can get a shot 
 at you," says Theodore, in his most per- 
 suasive accents. 
 
 "No, I believe not, this morning. 
 Whenever you need more water throw 
 out your jug. I will see that you are 
 supplied with bread. Don't forget to 
 wind your watch, and if you desire it I 
 will give you a calendar, so you may 
 keep track of the month." 
 
 "Month!" echoed Theodore. 
 
 "Yes, for you are to stay in there until 
 128
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the ransom is paid. Oh, I knew how to 
 catch you. We tried to get Mr. Bryan 
 just before the election, but we couldn't 
 think of the right sort of bait. But with 
 you it was different. Don't you think 
 there is a good deal of music about the 
 scream of a panther?" 
 
 "I think there is a good deal of inso- 
 lence about you, and I wish I could get 
 a shot at you. Here, a moment. It may 
 be well enough to entrap me, but you 
 have an innocent party a detective." 
 
 "Oh, that's all right. If he's a detec- 
 tive he doesn't know he's shut up yet." 
 
 "Sir, your sarcasm is unbecoming a 
 gentleman and a scholar!" I cried, unable 
 longer to control my indignation. I 
 heard him laughing. "It will not be 
 long," I says to Theodore. "Let him 
 enjoy himself while he can." And the 
 fellow, overhearing me, made answer: 
 "We will see about that." 
 129
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "But don't you know that the telegraph 
 office will soon be here?" says Theodore, 
 with a fine shade of just anger overlying 
 his manly countenance. "Don't you 
 know that? And then, sir, we shall be 
 set free." 
 
 "It would seem so," the man replied, 
 "but you needn't expect any assistance 
 from that quarter. The press has with- 
 drawn its forces to watch for social out- 
 breaks in Kansas, and, with the excep- 
 tion of one report a day, made up mostly 
 at home, they are to pay no further at- 
 tention to you." 
 
 "Can this be true?" Theodore groaned. 
 "Are my exploits no longer to be chron- 
 icled? Then am I undone, indeed. Fel- 
 low, the money cannot be raised. I have 
 not one-third of that sum, and to appeal 
 to Congress or the President would be 
 unconstitutional. Besides, the state of 
 Colorado would resent such interference. 
 130
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Open this door and I will make it all 
 right with you." 
 
 "I will open the door when the money 
 is put down by a red lantern, five hun- 
 dred feet to the right of the left-hand 
 corner of this house, and not before. 
 Any communication which you write 
 must be in plain English, with no 
 suggestion of cypher. I have a little 
 score to settle with you, and, besides, I 
 need the money, which, of course, makes 
 all financial operations legitimate." 
 
 "A score to settle with me?" says 
 Theodore. 
 
 "Yes. I was once a wire-fence cutter 
 in the far West, and you declared me an 
 outlaw, and made it so uncomfortable 
 for my line of business that whenever a 
 man was found with a can-opener in his 
 pocket he was strung up. Do you wish 
 writing material?" 
 
 131
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I will stay in here until the day of 
 judgment," says Theodore. 
 
 "Just as you please; it's not that I 
 care. But I guess six months will be 
 enough for you." 
 
 "Sir, you can't keep me here. The 
 entire populace of this country will rise 
 up." 
 
 "Yes, to express their grief that you 
 were killed by a grizzly. It will be easy 
 enough to send off such a report. The 
 press would be delighted to publish it. 
 And I can very easily furnish the man- 
 gled remains, and if the worst comes 
 to the worst, J can mutilate that detec- 
 tive and send his lacerated body as mute 
 evidence. Don't you see?" 
 
 "I wish I could see you," says Theo- 
 dore, seizing his gun, working his elbow 
 and pumping a few pounds of lead into 
 the wall. When the firing ceased the 
 man said : "That is good exercise. When 
 132
 
 THEODORE 
 
 you get out of cartridges I will see that 
 you get a fresh supply. Well, I'll call 
 again in the morning." 
 
 We heard him striding off on the 
 frozen ground. "I don't know what to 
 do," says Theodore. "Can't you think 
 of something?" 
 
 I wanted to get out. I was having 
 my fill of adventure, and I told him that 
 he might as well yield. "Impossible," 
 says Theodore. "The people would re- 
 gard the whole thing as a joke if I should 
 appeal to them. The paragraphers 
 would laugh at me, and my chances for 
 the Presidency would be forever ruined. 
 No, I can't entertain such a thought." 
 
 While he was talking the window sud- 
 denly darkened, and I could not sup- 
 press a cry, for there, shutting out nearly 
 all the light, was the head of old Sir 
 Billy, slightly drawn back, or otherwise 
 it would have thrown us completely in 
 133
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the dark. Theodore seized his gun and 
 fired; the bear shook his head and, with 
 a broad grin, spat out something. It 
 was the bullet. Theodore was about to 
 fire again, after observing the effect of 
 his first shot, but the bear ducked, 
 and we felt him rubbing against the 
 house. 
 
 "He may huff it down like the bear in 
 the story," said I. 
 
 "The bear you are thinking of was a 
 wolf," says Theodore. "You should be 
 a little more careful with your citations. 
 But he may rub our house down, that's 
 a fact. And if he does, at least one of 
 us is likely to pay the penalty, and some- 
 how, for I am inclined to look on the 
 bright side, I don't think it will be your 
 Uncle Edward," meaning himself, of 
 course. I groaned aloud. "If he would 
 only kill that kidnaper I would thank 
 him," says Theodore. 
 134
 
 THEODORE 
 
 ''He may be in league with him," I 
 suggested, and Theodore replied: 
 
 "A picturesque idea, for a detective; 
 but of course it is necessarily wide of the 
 truth. Still, I give you credit for ex- 
 pressing it. Whenever you have noth- 
 ing else to do express such ideas. They 
 will help to while away the time. 
 Helloa, he's taken himself off!" 
 
 And such was the fact, for we could 
 hear him rolling down rocks from the 
 mountain side not far away. 
 
 The day was long and tedious, and I 
 for one was in hopes that our captor 
 would pay us another visit; but the night 
 closed in, and we heard nothing of him. 
 He came with the morning, however, 
 and, tapping upon the wall to announce 
 himself, asked how we were getting on. 
 
 "We haven't advanced any since yes- 
 terday," says Theodore, not forgetting 
 his fine grade of sarcasm. 
 135
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "But don't you think you are soon 
 likely to get on further toward writing 
 that paper?" 
 
 "The time for my first message has 
 not arrived," quoth Theodore, with his 
 humorous mind on the White House. 
 
 "And when it has arrived it may cost 
 the country more than four hundred 
 thousand dollars," says the man outside, 
 and we heard him chuckle. "I have de- 
 cided to shut off your newspapers," says 
 he, chuckling again. "About all an 
 American needs is a newspaper, any- 
 way, and with it you are likely to be too 
 well provided. But from time to time, 
 as the months pass by, I will tell you 
 some of the most important news." 
 
 "The months," echoed our hero. 
 
 "I said months," quoth the kidnaper. 
 "And I will begin now. Mme. Bern- 
 hardt has expressed herself as being 
 greatly pleased with society." 
 136
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Has she consented to let them take 
 her up?" 
 
 "I mean the society of the stock yards. 
 She dipped her handkerchief in a steer's 
 blood and waved him a good-bye. She 
 says that she there saw the finest drama 
 ever played. She took a phonograph 
 along to catch a few squeals to use in 
 the future, when she produces her great 
 rural piece. She then will have the noise 
 of the genuine hog." 
 
 "Why didn't she catch the whistle of 
 an Illinois Central train?" 
 
 "Your brightness deserves a better 
 fate," says the kidnaper. "But here is 
 some more news." 
 
 "Let us have it; but let it be some- 
 thing of interest. I am not stuck on 
 actresses." 
 
 "All right. The resolutions of the late 
 peace congress show that there are to 
 be no more wars, proving that the Czar 
 137
 
 THEODORE 
 
 is a great peacemaker, and should, there- 
 fore, be blessed." 
 
 "How many warships is he building, 
 and what are his recent appropriations 
 for the army?" says Theodore. 
 
 "Big," says the kidnaper. "But that is 
 all the news I can give you at present. 
 I am afraid you'll find yourself too com- 
 fortable if I keep on. You won't care 
 to come out at all." 
 
 "Look here," says Theodore, "this 
 joke has gone far enough. Open the 
 door and I will walk away and ask no 
 questions. And if you don't, when I'm 
 President I will veto the bill that declares 
 your irrigation ditch navigable. Then 
 look at the money you will lose." 
 
 "You indeed move me deeply," says 
 the kidnaper; "but I know my duty when 
 it is spread out before me, and I am not 
 to be tempted. Well, I must be going." 
 And off he went. 
 
 138
 
 IT is painful thus to linger over the 
 memory of our imprisonment, but I 
 have been set to the great task of 
 telling the simple truth, and I suppose 
 you know, gentle reader second time 
 that all simple truths are full of details. 
 If this were not true, there would not be 
 news enough in the world to warrant 
 the getting out of more than one news- 
 paper in a week. 
 
 Ah, but now we had work to do. In 
 his restlessness Theodore discovered 
 that the logs were pine, and that with 
 persistent effort one of them might be 
 cut in two with our knives. His was 
 139
 
 THEODOR.E 
 
 
 broken about half way of the blade, but 
 this did not impair its effectiveness. In 
 fact, if anything it was a help. So to 
 work we went, whistling at our labor, 
 and made good progress. The log was 
 about two feet through and we had 
 hopes that it might be hollow. But it 
 was not. Our captor didn't call during 
 the day. We expected him at night, and 
 grew impatient for his cheerful voice, 
 but he did not come until nearly bed- 
 time; then he arrived in a merry mood 
 and tossed us in a can of oil for our 
 lantern. 
 
 "Beautiful night out here under the 
 stars," says he, and in my mind I could 
 see him looking up at the Milky Way. 
 
 "Won't you come in and sit down a 
 while?" says Theodore, never for a mo- 
 ment ceasing his work at the log. 
 
 "No, I believe not. What are you 
 gentlemen doing in there?" 
 140
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Exercising the great Yankee privi- 
 lege of whittling," says Theodore. 
 
 "Good. And if your knives get dull 
 you may call on me for a whetstone." 
 
 "Thank you," says Theodore; "you 
 are very polite. What was your busi- 
 ness before accepting the presidency of 
 the Amalgamated Association of Kid- 
 napers?" 
 
 "I told you that I cut wire fences for 
 a living." 
 
 "I mean before then. What gentle 
 calling did you follow?" 
 
 "I sold coal in winter and ice in sum- 
 mer." 
 
 "And what are you going to do when 
 you retire from your present position?" 
 
 "I thought that I might buy out a 
 street-car line. But how about your 
 mind? Have you made it up?" 
 
 "Yes, to the extent of telling you that 
 it is impossible to give in." 
 141
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Then it is impossible to get out." 
 
 "This is the worst outrage of the cen- 
 tury," says Theodore, whetting his knife 
 on his boot and falling to work with re- 
 newed vigor. 
 
 "That may be, but new enterprises are 
 coming up every day, and one never 
 knows what to expect." 
 
 "Suppose that, as a last resort, I am 
 compelled to thwart you by ending my 
 own life?" 
 
 "Then you could never be President." 
 
 "That's a fact," Theodore admitted, 
 with a deep sigh. "I didn't think of 
 that." 
 
 "But you should think of such things. 
 This is a day of thought. Did you ever 
 contemplate that?" 
 
 Theodore said that he had, still cut- 
 ting away at the log. I had seen him 
 under different emotions, standing the 
 strain of varied trials, but never before 
 142
 
 THEODORE 
 
 had I been afforded the opportunity to 
 admire him in the exercise of the 
 muscles of industry. And, although a 
 detective, I hold with the great political 
 economists that we owe all our wealth 
 to the industry of others; and whenever 
 I see a man at work, be he statesman or 
 hodcarrier, a feeling of enjoyment rip- 
 ples up my back like refreshing water on 
 a hot day. And how much a great man 
 can perform in a short time when he con- 
 sents to labor! We all know the story 
 of the workingman who left his pick 
 hanging in the air when the six-o'clock 
 whistle startled the echoes of the dying 
 afternoon. His time was up, and noth- 
 ing could have induced him to complete 
 the blow. But with a great man it is 
 otherwise. The sounding of the whistle 
 makes but little difference to him. He 
 is looking at the work to be done rather 
 than at the time. 
 
 143
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Is your knife holding out all right?" 
 says the considerate kidnaper. 
 
 "Reasonably well/' says Theodore, 
 never for a moment finding fault with the 
 tool which conditions had offered him. 
 
 "I have a reasonably good Barlow you 
 may try when that one gives out." 
 
 "Oh, thank you," says Theodore, "but 
 keep that, please. I shall use it after a 
 while to cut your throat with. It would 
 be a good joke to sever your jugular 
 with your own knife." 
 
 "Yes, and I will take the joke when I 
 give you the opportunity. But I waste 
 time. I neglect business. We have other 
 enterprises on hand. We have our plans 
 laid for the kidnaping of other great 
 men. You didn't know that we had 
 Billy Mason once, I suppose?" 
 
 "No," says Theodore, "I never heard 
 of it." 
 
 "But perhaps your friend in there, the 
 144
 
 THEODORE 
 
 detective, can tell you something about 
 it." 
 
 "If he can it will be the first infor- 
 mation I ever have been able to get 
 out of him." 
 
 "Then he understands his business. 
 But we had Billy once." 
 
 "Did he raise the ransom?" 
 
 "No. We couldn't make him under- 
 stand that he was kidnaped. He thought 
 he was in the Senate Chamber, speaking 
 on an important matter persisted in 
 telling us funny stories, and we were 
 forced to let him go. Even a kidnaper 
 takes life seriously at times, and Billy's 
 levity distressed me so that I couldn't 
 hold him any longer. One word more 
 before I go. A man in public life should 
 have had varied experiences, and this 
 imprisonment will give the finishing 
 touches to your education." 
 
 "And the final touches to your rich 
 145
 
 THEODORE 
 
 deservings death," says Theodore, 
 again "whetting his knife on his boot. 
 The kidnaper went away, whistling o'er 
 the lea, and for a long time we labored 
 in silence. When we left off for refresh- 
 ments it was with satisfaction that we 
 estimated that two-thirds of the difficulty 
 had been cut away. While we were eat- 
 ing, the bear came and looked in upon 
 us, smiling grimly. I reached for my 
 gun, for I knew that he couldn't get at 
 me, but Theodore placed a restraining 
 hand on my arm and told me to desist. 
 "Let him alone and perhaps he may eat 
 up our captor," says he. 
 
 "But in that event we'd starve to death 
 in here," says I, with a burst of inspira- 
 tion, and Theodore complimented me. 
 "We learn from children, drunken men 
 and fools," says he, smiling upon me. 
 The bear smiled, too, and for a time 
 they stood trying to outsmile each other, 
 146
 
 THEODORE 
 
 but finally the bear shook his head and 
 got down out of sight. Then he climbed 
 upon the low roof of our prison and 
 stretched himself out for a nap. He 
 must have eaten something that weighed 
 heavily upon him, for he snored distress- 
 fully. 
 
 "Here, up there, stop that!" Theo- 
 dore shouted. "If there's anything that 
 jars me it is a snore." But the bear kept 
 on, and we bent ourselves to our work. 
 When evening came we sat down to a 
 well-earned rest. How delightful is rest 
 when you feel that you have merited it! 
 At such a time we look upon a blister in 
 the hand as a badge of honor, but even 
 honors pall on us after a while. The 
 bear finished his long nap, came off the 
 roof, stuck his nose in at our little win- 
 dow, smiled and was gone. I felt that I 
 had earned a night of sound sleep, and 
 after bread and water it was my desire 
 147
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to stretch myself out, but Theodore said 
 that, as we were in a sort of rush, I was 
 expected to work overtime. So, by the 
 light of the lantern, we resumed our un- 
 finished task. And I shall never forget 
 our hero's laugh of victory as we struck 
 the bark on the other side of the log. 
 
 "The light ought to be shining 
 through from without," says Theodore. 
 "But I suppose it's too dark. Hold the 
 lantern closer." 
 
 He worked faster and faster, and sud- 
 denly fell back with a cry of anguish. 
 Between two log walls was a partition of 
 sheet iron. I could but groan as I gazed 
 at it. 
 
 "Fate is against us," says Theodore. 
 "Why does fate so often array herself on 
 the side of the wrongdoer? Now, I know 
 why that infernal bear smiled so. But 
 he shall pay for it. Come, we waste 
 precious time. Perhaps the sheet iron 
 148
 
 THEODORE 
 
 may not go all the way up. Let us cut 
 higher." 
 
 "It is worse than useless," say I, clasp- 
 ing my blistered hands. 
 
 "What, discouraged? And now when 
 victory seems so near?" 
 
 I told him that I was not greedy of 
 conquest. I admitted that I was enter- 
 prising; that I was also a man of discern- 
 ment, but that I could not see my way 
 through iron. 
 
 "Short sighted," muttered Theodore, 
 whetting his knife. "Sir," says he, "suc- 
 cess in this life is a reward lying at the 
 end of a rocky road. Even a detective 
 ought to know that." 
 
 I replied that I did know it, but that 
 I was not ambitious. "Remember," says 
 I, "that I am not a statesman." 
 
 "Then do you expect to stay in here 
 like a rat?" 
 
 "I wish I could burrow out like one." 
 149
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Ah," says Theodore, brightening, 
 "there is a good suggestion. We will 
 burrow. The foundation can't be very 
 deep, and even frozen ground can be cut." 
 
 So we went to work, chipping off thin 
 flakes of frozen earth, and along toward 
 morning we struck a solid rock. This 
 time it was our hero who groaned. I 
 was past the point of any emotion what- 
 ever. Upon the ground we stretched 
 ourselves, and refreshing and well- 
 merited sleep closed our eyes. The dull 
 morning broke with a heavy fog pour- 
 ing through our window. Theodore 
 strove to smile, but the effort was too 
 much for him. We waited for our vis- 
 itor, the bear, but he did not come. 
 However, along toward ten o'clock, the 
 kidnaper tapped on the wall. 
 
 "I have a fountain pen and some very 
 fine tinted paper here," says he. "Now, 
 perhaps you feel like writing." 
 150
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "That I do," says Theodore, "provided 
 it were the signing of your death war- 
 rant." 
 
 "Romantic, even unto the last," says 
 the kidnaper. "But don't you feel dis- 
 posed, in view of difficulties which beset 
 you, sheet iron and solid rock I say, 
 don't you feel disposed to write me an 
 order for four hundred thousand dollars 
 in gold coin?" 
 
 "I will give you the order if you will 
 set us at liberty." 
 
 "Oh, that's advancement. But I can- 
 not set you at liberty until the order is 
 honored. That would be against the 
 best interests and the positive order of 
 the kidnaping trust. But give me the 
 order and I will see that you are made 
 comfortable until we find out." 
 
 "But suppose it should not be hon- 
 ored." 
 
 "Then we should be compelled to put 
 out your eyes." 151
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Well, I could stand that." 
 
 "Could you? Then we would pull 
 your teeth to rob you of your smile." 
 
 Theodore groaned. "H e a r 1 1 e s s 
 wretch," he muttered. 
 
 "You see," says the kidnaper, "that 
 you have every inducement to make the 
 order strong." 
 
 "Say, can't you cut the price in two?" 
 says Theodore, with a momentary gleam 
 of hope in his bright eyes. 
 
 "Lower prices! What are trusts for?" 
 
 "I am beginning to feel what they are 
 for," says Theodore, "and the time may 
 come when I can influence legislation 
 against them." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know as to that," pleas- 
 antly replied the kidnaper. "It might 
 have seemed so once, but times have 
 changed." 
 
 "What's the news?" says Theodore, 
 after a moment of deep thought. 
 152
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Well, our brothers in New York, the 
 trusts, are giving ten-thousand-dollar 
 dinners." 
 
 "Are they? But tell me, is Dr. Har- 
 per pulling Rockefeller's leg to advan- 
 tage?" 
 
 "The doctor is ever an advantageous 
 puller," says the kidnaper. "But you 
 must know that he is a public benefactor. 
 He is like a circus the money he gets 
 could be got in no other way. A monu- 
 ment to vanity may become a temple of 
 learning, you know." 
 
 "What a political spellbinder you 
 would make," says Theodore. "Before 
 I go away from here I wish you would 
 give me your address." 
 
 "When you go away you won't need 
 addresses." 
 
 "Reassuring," says Theodore. "But 
 say, why don't you go and get Benjamin 
 Harrison and shut him up?" 
 153
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "He has appointments with the peace 
 commission when he comes out of his 
 cave of discontent. And I am a man of 
 peace. I don't believe in wars all I 
 believe in is the trust." 
 
 "Well," says Theodore, "I suppose all 
 I can do now is to give myself over to 
 Providence." 
 
 "Why, that's exactly what the trusts 
 are doing, and every time they do prices 
 go up. The trusts believe that they have 
 a corner on the mercies of Providence." 
 
 "Blasphemous wretch," muttered 
 Theodore. 
 
 "Well, but doesn't it seem that way?" 
 
 Theodore was forced to admit that it 
 did. But he added that a day of reck- 
 oning was coming. "Yes," says the kid- 
 naper, "and it has been coming ever 
 since the world began, but it hasn't got 
 here yet. By the way, I have another 
 piece of news. The literati has met Mme. 
 154
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Bernhardt at the house of Fernando 
 Jones, in Chicago. The Twentieth Cen- 
 tury Club did the honors." 
 
 "Who are the literati ?" says Theodore. 
 
 "Why, those who don't write and don't 
 care for what has been written. I 
 thought you knew that." 
 
 "And were there no writers at the re- 
 ception?" 
 
 "Yes; the reporters stood on the back 
 steps." 
 
 "I think I was once entertained by the 
 Twentieth Century Club," says Theo- 
 dore. "And, as I remember it, there 
 were many bright minds present." 
 
 "Yes, for most of the members sell 
 polish. A number of the ladies speak 
 French as well as they do Irish." 
 
 "And did Mme. Bernhardt understand 
 them?" 
 
 "Oh, perfectly. She had her inter- 
 preter with her." 
 
 i55
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Ah, but this is idle persiflage," says 
 Theodore, a consciousness of his cap- 
 tivity weighing heavily upon him. "I 
 must get out of here." 
 
 "Then you are ready to write?" 
 
 "Sir, I have been accounted a ready 
 writer. I studied the compendium, and 
 am acquainted with nearly all forms, but 
 the kidnaping form was not in my book." 
 
 "Then you must give me the pleasure 
 of originating a form for you. But you 
 are aweary now. Lie down to peaceful 
 slumbers and I may call again soon." 
 And with that he took himself off, leav- 
 ing us to nurse our loneliness. 
 
 But he was a kind and obliging kid- 
 naper, and returned not long afterward, 
 seeming to take an interest in our work. 
 "What decision have you come to," he 
 inquired, rubbing his back against a cor- 
 ner of the cabin and muttering some- 
 thing about blessings on the Duke of 
 Argyle. 156
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I am where you left me," says Theo- 
 dore, with a sigh that did not escape my 
 detective ears. 
 
 "I can well believe that," says the kid- 
 naper, leaving off the ancient Scotch 
 diversion of scratching his back. "And 
 it does not require any particular fore- 
 sight to assure you that you are likely to 
 stay there unless you come to terms." 
 
 "I care nothing for your opinions," 
 says Theodore. "What I want is news. 
 You forget that I am an American." 
 
 "Well," says our outside entertainer, 
 "as I have not been connected long 
 enough with the trust to become wholly 
 inhuman, I will oblige you. Poor old 
 man Carnegie has been frozen out of the 
 steel combine." 
 
 "You don't tell me! And how much 
 did he find with him out in the cold?" 
 
 "Oh, about eighty-five millions for 
 a part of his holdings." 
 
 157
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "Poor old man," sighed Theodore. 
 "His was a gentle spirit. What is he 
 going to do for a living now?" 
 
 "He would go to a Soldier's Home, I 
 suppose, but he was only a telegrapher 
 during the civil war. But surely his 
 friends won't see him suffer he has 
 given them so much good advice. And 
 now he says that a man ought to marry 
 a woman at least twenty years older than 
 himself." 
 
 "Oh, generous advocate of the old 
 ladies' home. But why didn't he say 
 forty years older and give the ballet girl 
 a chance? Now for your other news. 
 I pant!" 
 
 "Well, the Czar has made the Presi- 
 dent a present of an album containing 
 pictures of his coronation." 
 
 "Oh, generous monarch! And what 
 did Mac say?" 
 
 " 'Much obliged, Czarie. I'll send you 
 158
 
 THEODORE 
 
 some views taken along the Little 
 Miami,' which may be worth more to 
 art if not to history." 
 
 "Kidnaper, I thank you for that senti- 
 ment. But what else have you?" 
 
 "Mrs. Nation has visited Chicago." 
 
 "Who, Mrs. Helen D. Nation?" 
 
 "Oh, no; Mrs. Carrie Nation." 
 
 "What did she do?" 
 
 "Snatched a cigarette out of a man's 
 mouth, and made a saloonkeeper put 
 clothes on a nude figure." 
 
 "And where was Carter Harrison all 
 this time?" 
 
 "Dodging. But she found him at a 
 ball and asked him to give her his confi- 
 dence." 
 
 "Why didn't she ask Kipley to give 
 her one of his confidence men? But go 
 on, I prithee." 
 
 "She asked Carter if he ever lied." 
 
 "And what did he do?" 
 159
 
 "Bowed and blushed for the city hall." 
 
 "Anything else?" 
 
 "Yes, Chicago will make an effort to 
 grab off the Olympic games." 
 
 "Why doesn't it make an effort to get 
 rid of its other games?" 
 
 "I beg your pardon, but the political 
 trusts and all trusts are kin assure 
 the world that there is no gambling in 
 that city. Ask your detective." 
 
 "There is none," I spoke up brightly, 
 true to my training. 
 
 "Anything more?" says Teddy, with 
 his face pressed eagerly against the wall. 
 
 "Yes. Chicago is about to solve the 
 question that confronts the unem- 
 ployed." 
 
 "How so?" 
 
 "By expelling them from the city." 
 
 "But how can this be done?" 
 
 "By providing work for them. This 
 would be dead wrong it would interfere 
 
 160
 
 THEODORE 
 
 with the design of sweet and blessed 
 charity. Charity says, 'If you give them 
 work there will be no excuse for my vast 
 machinery. If you break up my bureau 
 you cut off the salaries of good and true 
 men, who sit so gracefully and comfort- 
 ably asleep at their desks. They them- 
 selves might be compelled to work for 
 a living, and that would be a shame. 
 The money that they receive might be 
 devoted to cleaning the streets, and that 
 would be an outrage.' But time speeds. 
 I must go," and with that he left us. 
 
 161
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 RIDING THE BEAR 
 
 DURING the rest of the day and 
 until bedtime that night Theo- 
 dore was more depressed than I 
 had ever seen him. Even the strongest 
 heart must grow faint after a while, 
 when hope seems to be but mockery. He 
 sat with his back against the wall and 
 talked of the past; he said that he would 
 like to write his memoirs, and this 
 proved to me that indeed he considered 
 our case as one of abject despair. And 
 to think that at one time years ago I had 
 been tolerant of a kidnaper! I remem- 
 ber it well. 'Twas on a summer's eve- 
 ning when the cry arose that a boy had 
 162
 
 THEODORE 
 
 been stolen. There was great excite- 
 ment, as I pushed through a crowd of 
 mothers in the street, but I told them to 
 take heart. Over in an adjoining lot I 
 found a man, a bearded tramp, who 
 had grabbed a boy. The tramp had 
 liberated the boy, and the youth, 
 unappreciative of his freedom, was 
 standing off viewing the kidnaper 
 as he drank a can of beer. I 
 arrested the scoundrel and struck him 
 only three times with my club I was 
 not a plain-clothes man then, but one of 
 the uniformed force; and did not hit him 
 again until we arrived at the station, 
 when I gave him another swat by way 
 of a parting salute. Many another man 
 would have treated him harshly, but I 
 was always tender-hearted. But what 
 did it avail me now that I was shut up, 
 far from home and from friends, whom 
 I owed small sums ranging from fifty 
 163
 
 THEODORE 
 
 cents to ten dollars? Alas, in my great 
 time of need, there was none to show me 
 mercy! 
 
 Theodore dozed off to sleep where he 
 sat, too despondent even to lie down, and 
 I sat there watching the lantern as it 
 winked and sputtered on the ground be- 
 side him. At his feet, where it had fallen 
 from his discouraged hand, lay his well- 
 worn knife, last remnant of his determi- 
 nation. Hours passed. What would 
 not I have given to hear the ticking of a 
 clock! The universal enemy of sleep, 
 the cat on the back fence, would now 
 have been a joy to me. But I heard 
 nothing save the distant howl of a wild 
 beast and the wailing of the wind deep 
 down in a gulch. Finally there came 
 another sound, now grown familiar, that 
 of the bear climbing to rest on our roof. 
 I was becoming so accustomed to him 
 that I could read all his movements by 
 164
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the noises he made. Now he was yawn- 
 ing, now scratching himself, now stretch- 
 ing out to sleep. The hours continued 
 to pass and Theodore was sleeping 
 peacefully. Occasionally his forefinger 
 would twitch, as if he were working a 
 trigger. Ah, he was dreaming of inno- 
 cent conquest among the wild beasts of 
 the forest. "Dream on," I said. "Sip 
 your pleasures in sleep, for all too soon 
 there will come an awakening, when 
 your too restless spirit again will fret un- 
 der the power of the kidnaping trust." 
 Suddenly he leaped to his feet with a loud 
 laugh. I thought he was still dreaming, 
 but with wide open eyes he turned to me 
 and said: "Fools that we were!" 
 
 "Yes, to come in here," I admitted. 
 
 "No; not to get out. Look, we have 
 cartridges. We can unload them, stuff 
 this hole in the wall with the powder and 
 blow up our prison."
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "But won't that be dangerous?" I 
 asked, and then he spoke in tones of sup- 
 pressed contempt: "Oh, of course. It 
 is dangerous to breathe, to eat, and to 
 sleep. It is dangerous to do anything." 
 But he softened toward me and contin- 
 ued: "Come, pour out your cartridges, 
 and get to work. It is better to blow 
 ourselves up than to have our eyes put 
 out, although such a condition might 
 improve your efficiency as a detective." 
 
 His sarcasm nerved me, and I fell to 
 work with a will. Unloading brass 
 cartridges is not an easy job. The bul- 
 lets were in tight, but Theodore's won- 
 derful teeth now came into practical 
 play, for he bit them out like biting 
 corn off the cob. And by the time 
 a pale shaft of daylight fell through 
 our window, we had almost a hat 
 full of powder. That there should 
 be no possibility of waste, he thrust 
 166
 
 the hat my hat into the hole and 
 then packed earth and chips tightly 
 about it. Ah, how devotedly he labored 
 now. An inventor, about to reach a 
 climax, could not have exceeded him. 
 
 "I hope the kidnaper will reach here 
 about the time we touch her off," says 
 Theodore, ramming- in a handful of 
 earth. 
 
 "The bear is asleep on the roof now," 
 says I. 
 
 "Is he? Then we will wake him up; 
 for after all it was he that got us into 
 this trap. Dig up some more dirt there 
 and hand it to me. Ah, we couldn't 
 have made a better hole for a blow-up 
 if we had tried. I wonder why we didn't 
 think of it sooner. But no matter, we 
 have thought of it and will soon be at 
 liberty, I promise you." 
 
 "But, as I said before, it will be at- 
 tended by a good deal of risk," says I, 
 167
 
 THEODORE 
 
 watching him as he neared the comple- 
 tion of his task. 
 
 "That's true. One of us may be 
 killed." 
 
 "But which one? That's the question." 
 
 He halted a moment and looked at 
 me. "Why, you, of course. You must 
 know that in such cases the mortality is 
 rarely more than fifty per cent." 
 
 "But isn't it possible for you to repre- 
 sent that fifty per cent?" 
 
 "I refuse to accept revised figures," 
 says he, resuming his work, upon which 
 he was now putting the finishing touches. 
 I was afraid of the thing. I was down 
 on the drainage canal once and saw a 
 number of men, all strangers to me, sail- 
 ing through the air, and I remember 
 thinking at the time that they were go- 
 ing to have a hard time of it, and they 
 did. Little did I suppose that I should 
 ever emulate their awful example. But 
 168
 
 THEODORE 
 
 that time was now approaching. Theo- 
 dore was tearing a strip from his hand- 
 kerchief, of which "to make a fuse," he 
 pleasantly remarked. It was now broad 
 day and I heard the twitter of a bird, 
 doubtless the last I should ever hear. 
 Through my mind there swept a host of 
 memories, of reward money I had re- 
 ceived for nabbing the wrong man, and 
 of a ballot box I had seen stolen on the 
 West Side. But it was now too late to 
 repent of anything done in the past. The 
 fuse was smoking, and what a scent, that 
 burning rag! Theodore crouched down 
 in one corner and I in another. 
 
 "It takes a long time," says he, grow- 
 ing impatient. 
 
 "There is no time so long as that which 
 is poised on the edge of eternity," says 
 I, remembering that I had seen the epi- 
 grams of the Rev. Frank Crane. 
 
 "I wish that thing didn't smell so," 
 169
 
 THEODORE 
 
 says Theodore. "I like to smell pow- 
 der, but a little of burnt rag goes a long 
 ways. Listen, did you hear that bear 
 sneeze?" 
 
 "I can hear nothing now, save the 
 beating of my own heart," says I. 
 
 "Well, perhaps it won't disturb you 
 long," says he. And then and then 
 with logs and fragments of wood whirl- 
 ing about me, I was sailing through the 
 vibrating air! There came the sound of 
 the explosion, far below. It was a bright 
 morning and I looked about for Theo- 
 dore, but could not make him out, there 
 were so many obstructions. I won- 
 dered how I was to get down with- 
 out hurting myself. Oh, how I wished 
 for an elevator. But now, having 
 reached my height, I was falling, faster 
 and faster, and down I came in a snow 
 drift. I scrambled out and looked about 
 to see if I were hurt; I felt of myself and 
 170
 
 PULLED HARD ON 
 
 SIR BILLY'S EARS. Page '7'
 
 THEODORE 
 
 finding that I was all right, complimented 
 myself. But where was Theodore? And 
 now a thrilling sight rewarded my search. 
 Not far off was our hero, galloping 
 across the country on the back of old Sir 
 Billy, holding on by his ears. He had 
 come down astride the bear, and being 
 a man of quick decision, had decided to 
 ride him. I forgot my fear of the great 
 beast and yelled out to Theodore to wait 
 a moment; he heard me, and pulled hard 
 on Sir Billy's ears, but there was no 
 slacking of his headlong speed. I fol- 
 lowed on as fast as I could, fearful of the 
 result while rejoicing in my freedom; 
 but they soon passed out of sight over 
 a great crest of rocks, bounding toward 
 a cliff. If the bear should take this leap, 
 I knew that it would be fatal not only to 
 himself but to Theodore, as well; and I 
 halted long enough to pour forth a groan 
 on the cool and invigorating air. But 
 171
 
 THEODORE 
 
 while following, let me observe that the 
 kidnaper was not there to share in the 
 explosion. I would like to say that he 
 was killed by a flying timber, but he was 
 not. Truth compels me to say that he is 
 still alive and doing a thriving business 
 for all I know. I put an advertisement 
 in the Denver newspapers, but nothing 
 came of this, my strong effort to bring 
 him to justice. 
 
 As I was nearing the cliff my heart 
 bounded at the sight of Theodore, sitting 
 on a rock, with his eagle eye fixed on 
 the unfamiliar sun. 
 
 "Good morning," says he, as I came 
 up. "I hope you had a good night's 
 rest." And then his old smile illumined 
 his countenance. He told me that the 
 bear had run under a hanging rock that 
 scraped him off. "But never mind," 
 says he, "I will get him yet." 
 
 "But don't you think that we ought 
 172
 
 THEODORE 
 
 to make it our business to look for that 
 kidnaper?" says I, being hot against our 
 captor. 
 
 "My dear boy," he says, affectionately, 
 "there are some things you don't seem 
 to understand. We are at liberty, and 
 that is enough. Do you suppose we can 
 afford to bring all the trusts in the coun- 
 try down upon us? Let him alone now, 
 and I will see if there can be any legis- 
 lation introduced against him. Personal 
 vengeance is below the dignity of a 
 statesman. I am a hunter of animals 
 and not of men." 
 
 I did not agree with him. Man-hunt- 
 ing was my business, and as I before 
 mentioned, I strove to find him with an 
 advertisement. 
 
 Now, with light hearts, we tripped 
 down the scaly mountain sides toward 
 our camp, expecting from what the kid- 
 naper had told us to find it deserted; but 
 173
 
 THEODORE 
 
 he had issued a false statement, for there 
 were the Rough Writers in our cabin, 
 making themselves at home. Theodore 
 greeted them pleasantly, and then we 
 were shown the reports that they had 
 sent off during our absence. It seems 
 that never did they even suspect our 
 captivity. Once they trailed a telegraph 
 wire within a hundred feet of our prison, 
 but halted not, pushing on to report the 
 number of lions slain. I asked Theo- 
 dore if he did not intend to rest during 
 the day, and he winked at me as much 
 as to tell me to hush, that such a thing 
 was impossible. We did not tell the 
 Writers of our captor, nor of blowing up 
 the prison. Theodore said he did not 
 want them to send off sensational re- 
 ports. 
 
 "Get ready to go with me," said Theo- 
 dore, after we had eaten a bite. "I must 
 
 174
 
 THEODORE 
 
 have that bear or the whole thing will 
 be but a failure." 
 
 "You had him once," said I. 
 
 "Yes; and if I had thought to take my 
 knife up with me all might have been 
 different. But get ready. We waste 
 time." 
 
 175
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 LOST AGAIN 
 
 I WAS in hopes that our trials, which 
 Theodore called adventures, were at 
 an end, but such was not quite the 
 case. I was anxious to get home, and 
 told him so. He replied: "What are 
 your duties compared with mine? I in- 
 formed you that I could not preside over 
 the Senate, knowing that Sir Billy still 
 roamed at large, and now you remind 
 me of your duties." I apologized and told 
 him to lead on, that I would follow ; and 
 again we struck out in search of the bear. 
 The telegraph followed at an unobtru- 
 sive distance, the weather was fair, and 
 176
 
 THEODORE 
 
 all seemed well. Theodore whistled 
 merrily as he strode up the trail, our 
 mules close behind. They had found 
 their way home during our captivity. 
 Indeed, it was their habit to find their 
 way back to camp whenever they got a 
 sniff of Sir Billy. 
 
 We returned to the place where the 
 log house had been blown to atoms, and 
 Theodore, who is contemplative as well 
 as active, sat down and mused for a time. 
 "This is the scene of one of the most re- 
 markable events in the recent history of 
 this country," said he, "and I want to 
 fasten it upon my memory. I was 
 about to forget it and happily arrived 
 here in time to avert such a loss. But 
 I charge you, do not exaggerate in your 
 report of it." 
 
 "That is not likely, sir, for I am not 
 a trained writer." 
 
 "True," says Theodore, warmly press- 
 177
 
 THEODORE 
 
 ing my hand. And then after deep 
 thought he added: "I have been forced 
 to decide that it is useless to try that 
 bear with a gun." 
 
 "I would advise poison," said I, look- 
 ing at him with strong appeal. 
 
 "Do you take me for an assassin?" says 
 he, seeming to regret that he had pressed 
 my hand. 
 
 "Oh, not at all, sir; but I thought it 
 was his demise you were after." 
 
 "It is; but he must be killed in a fair 
 fight. Do you think there is any prowess 
 in poisoning a bear?" 
 
 I admitted that I did not. "Come," 
 says he, "we waste precious time." 
 
 Onward we went, up into a part of the 
 mountains which as yet we had not ex- 
 plored, and at noon sat down to refresh- 
 ments. Just as Theodore lifted a bottle 
 to his lips it was dashed to pieces by a 
 panther that leaped at him from a high 
 178
 
 THEODORE 
 
 rock. The brute ran off a short distance 
 to get another start, and was crouching 
 for a spring, when Theodore, catching up 
 his gun, remarked: "Impolite beast, take 
 the consequences of your rashness!" 
 and with that the rifle cracked. The 
 panther weighed three hundred pounds, 
 and yielded one of the finest skins I ever 
 saw. 
 
 We entered a steep gulch and were 
 climbing upward at a fair rate of speed, 
 when we discovered that our immediate 
 progress was blocked by a drove of lions. 
 For nearly half an hour we pumped our 
 magazines, and then came the toilsome 
 work of climbing over the dead. Being 
 freshly killed and therefore yielding, the 
 beasts were hard to walk over. One of 
 them, not being quite dead, bit off the 
 heel of Theodore's boot, but he took it 
 in good part and cut the lion's throat. 
 At last we were up in the highest grade, 
 179
 
 THEODORE 
 
 and it was with difficulty that I 
 could breathe, but Theodore didn't 
 mind it. He whistled, and sang, and 
 shot a panther that he saw skulk- 
 ing in the distance. But night came 
 with no traces of the bear, and we 
 turned camp-ward, when again we 
 discovered that we were lost. "If 
 you hear the scream of a panther, the 
 grunt of a bear, or any other sound, don't 
 follow it," says I. "Remember our 
 trap." 
 
 "You are growing strangely cautious," 
 says he, listening. 
 
 "I am growing wise if you call that 
 caution." 
 
 "I will agree to see you safe within 
 the smoky precincts of the detective 
 agency," says he, with a touch of protec- 
 tion in his manly voice. "Suppose we 
 camp here." 
 
 We rolled up in our blankets and com- 
 180
 
 NOTHING OF NOTE HAPPENED 
 
 DURING THE NIGHT. Page 181
 
 THEODORE 
 
 posed ourselves for sleep, and nothing 
 of note happened during the night. Once 
 a lion stole up and blew his hot breath 
 in my face; at another time a panther 
 socked his teeth into Theodore's boot, 
 and ran away with his blanket; an 
 avalanche of snow came down and cov- 
 ered us to the extent of about ten feet; 
 but aside from these petty annoyances 
 the night was as pleasant and eventless 
 for sleeping purposes as we could have 
 desired. Early in the morning Theo- 
 dore killed three lions and then struck 
 out in a westerly direction. At about 
 nine o'clock we sighted a flock of Rocky 
 Mountain goats. They were amusing 
 themselves by leaping off a bluff nearly a 
 thousand feet high and lighting on their 
 horns, bounding up with astonishing 
 elasticity. One of them bounced over 
 near us and we made a fine meal off him, 
 the flesh being tender and juicy. Shortly 
 181
 
 THEODORE 
 
 afterward I saw an animal that did not 
 excite my fear, although it was most un- 
 familiar to me until I tried to catch it 
 then Theodore commanded me to go 
 off somewhere and bury my clothes. I 
 told him that the weather was too cold 
 to strip. 
 
 "Then go and bury yourself," he said 
 through his nose. "Don't come near 
 me. Stand up yonder and let the wind 
 blow on you." 
 
 I did so, while he waited in the dis- 
 tance. And as I stood there I heard a 
 great scratching upon the rocks, and 
 looking around with a start, I saw the 
 bear climbing after me. I shouted in 
 alarm, and just then a fortunate breeze 
 from me struck Sir Billy and he tumbled 
 off the rock, sniffing the air distressfully, 
 and was gone. Theodore soon forgot 
 my perfumery in his anxiety to reach the 
 bear, which he could not for he was 
 182
 
 THEODORE 
 
 gone; and I think that our hero was 
 mortified to reflect that even I, a modest 
 detective, had power enough to frighten 
 the lord of the mountains. But I as- 
 sured him, as he must have known very 
 well, that it was no unaided force of my 
 own. 
 
 Night found us still following the bear, 
 but as we were now near the camp, we 
 decided to turn in. I was thankful for 
 this, having a cheerful fire in view; and 
 I enjoyed it all to myself, Theodore 
 choosing to sleep in the shed with the 
 Rough Writers. But by morning I was 
 presentable I mean endurable, and 
 cheerfully we set out over the moun- 
 tains. The Writers did not follow us, 
 however, and Theodore, turning to me, 
 said: "So, you see, everything is of some 
 use." 
 
 "Yes," says I; "and I hope you will 
 forgive me." 
 
 183
 
 THEODORE 
 
 "I will; but when you see another one 
 of those little animals, let your invitation 
 to visit another neighborhood be very 
 pressing." 
 
 "Did you ever encounter one, sir?" 
 "Once. It was during my gallant 
 days on the plains. The night was beau- 
 tiful. There was to be a ball in the dance 
 hall at Blue Nose. I was on my way 
 thither. My horse was an easy trotter, 
 my health was perfect, and nothing more 
 could be desired. Suddenly something 
 gleamed in the moonlight in front of 
 me. The horse stopped, stiffened his 
 ears, and snorted. I touched him with 
 the spur and he jumped straight up. 
 This was singular. What, afraid of so 
 little a thing as the white and black ani- 
 mal that gleamed and darkened in the 
 road? I touched him harder with the spur. 
 He leaped to one side. The little animal 
 sat down in the road with the moon 
 184
 
 THEODORE 
 
 full upon him. His eyes looked like two 
 sparks of fire. 'Beautiful creature,' I 
 said to myself; and the horse shuddered. 
 I was to dance the first set with Miss 
 Magnolia Knockknee, a charming half 
 breed. I remembered to have heard her 
 express a fondness for pets. I would 
 take this one to her and present it with 
 a graceful bow. So I dismounted and 
 strove to lead the horse toward the little 
 animal, but he pulled back, with his eyes 
 rolling. With the toe of my boot I as- 
 sisted him to come forward a few feet, 
 and then, when it was too late, it was 
 plain that I had gone too far. Cooper 
 wrote about the awful outcry of a horse. 
 I never heard it until that night, when my 
 poor sorrel sat down on his haunches, 
 lifted his grinning lips and poured forth 
 upon the still air a wail the like of which 
 I hope never to hear again. I couldn't 
 cry I was choking. Well, the horse 
 185
 
 THEODORE 
 
 broke loose from me and ran away, and 
 after shaking myself, and pouring over 
 my clothes a bottle of perfumery which 
 I was taking as a present to a colored 
 fiddler, I pronounced myself all right, 
 and set forward again. As I went down 
 the hill toward the dance hall the twang 
 of tuning fiddles fell upon my keen and 
 sensitive ear. They were making ready, 
 and I pushed forward to be in time for 
 the first set with Miss Magnolia. The 
 door was opening. I could see the flut- 
 tering of soft drapery. I stepped in, 
 with a sweeping bow, and a red-haired 
 boy cried out, 'Oh, gee whiz!' And then 
 all was changed. There may have been 
 a dance that night, but I did not partici- 
 pate. But what have we here?" 
 
 It was a great pile of raw flesh and 
 
 fresh bones. A mule train had been 
 
 demolished, and by that bear, too; for 
 
 he had left his tracks in the blood. 
 
 186
 
 THEODORE 
 
 Pretty soon a professional mule driver 
 stuck his head from under a rock and 
 asked us if he were gone. 
 
 "Come out," says Theodore. "I will 
 protect you." 
 
 The man came out, looking pale and 
 worn with fright. He told us that he 
 was going along peacefully with his four 
 mules, when down upon them all came 
 the bear, like a storm of teeth, claws and 
 grizzly hair. Flight was worse than use- 
 less on his part, so he slipped under a 
 rock. The mules were less fortunate. 
 They had to stand the storm, and the 
 manner of their standing it was sad to 
 behold. 
 
 "I am out now looking for that bear," 
 says Theodore. 
 
 The driver's face turned yellow. 
 
 "Surely, sir," says he, "you don't know 
 
 what you are looking for. I would 
 
 rather meet the day of judgment than 
 
 187
 
 THEODORE 
 
 that fellow. Did you ever see him?" 
 "I rode with him quite a distance 
 once," says Theodore, "but there was no 
 formal introduction. Was this your 
 first meeting with him?" 
 
 "No; I met him once before, or rather 
 he tried to meet me, and would have 
 done it, too, but I got under a rock. He 
 sat down and waited for me to come out, 
 his size preventing him from coming in, 
 but I stayed there until the monster's 
 appetite compelled him to go below and 
 attack a wagon train." 
 
 "Your language betrays the school," 
 says Theodore, and the driver smiled 
 sadly. "You see, sir," says he, "a col- 
 lege remnant of a club of base ball play- 
 ers. Once they put me in a wagon and 
 hauled me about the streets, with music 
 by the band and flowers strewn by fair 
 maidens, but alas! When base ball died 
 my knowledge of chemistry assured me 
 1 88
 
 THEODORE 
 
 a position at a soda fountain, near an in- 
 stitution of learning, but they accused 
 me of poisoning a professor of Greek " 
 
 "And so you were compelled to re- 
 sign." 
 
 "Yes; when they failed to prove it on 
 me they demanded my resignation. Af- 
 ter that, of course, my grade was lower. 
 And on my way down I wrote a society 
 novel. One more step remained, that 
 taken, I found myself driving mules in 
 the mountains." 
 
 We bade him farewell and pushed on- 
 ward. Night came without further ad- 
 venture, except that a man shot at us by 
 mistake, clipping off a lock of Theodore's 
 hair. "Permit me to apologize and to 
 keep this," said the man, stooping down 
 and picking up the short, wavy tress. 
 
 "With my compliments," says Theo- 
 dore, and again we went onward. We 
 should have slept well that night had it 
 189
 
 THEODORE 
 
 not been for another avalanche, and this 
 disturbed us somewhat, burying us to 
 the depth of about eighteen feet four 
 inches. We dug out by sunrise and, af- 
 ter eating a bit of frozen meat, set for- 
 ward with rising spirits. I think it must 
 have been about noon when, far above, 
 old Sir Billy stood looking down upon 
 us. The air was clear and we could see 
 him plainly. His tuft of red hair caught 
 the sun and flamed in the light. At the 
 prison window he had smiled at us, but 
 now he wore a frowning countenance. 
 Theodore set his teeth. He knew, and 
 so did I, that the great contest was about 
 to begin. 
 
 "He will come after us," says our hero. 
 "Even if we should try ever so hard, 
 escape would be impossible. We must 
 fight, or rather I must, for you are to 
 have no hand in the slaughter. The vic- 
 tory over him must belong to me alone. 
 190
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I will hang his skin behind my chair in 
 the Senate. Mark, he is coming. Get 
 over there behind that rock." I scram- 
 bled to a place of comparative safety. 
 Unless Theodore should fall, I might re- 
 main unnoticed. On he came, with his 
 great mouth open. Theodore stood with 
 his gun in his hand and with a long knife 
 under his arm. It was a majestic sight. 
 When the bear came within one hundred 
 yards of his stand, Theodore opened a 
 steady and well-directed fire. But the ter- 
 rific onrush of the bear was not impeded. 
 Undoubtedly he was proof against the 
 force of lead. "Agamemnon of his race," 
 muttered Theodore, with admiration in 
 his eye, but with never a sign of fear. 
 How the brave admire the brave! On- 
 ward came the bear, cutting short the dis- 
 tance with great bounds, spitting out 
 mouthfuls of bullets as he leaped. One 
 might have thought that he was immor- 
 191
 
 THEODORE 
 
 tal as well as inhuman. And now a 
 trembling seized me. "Stop that!" cries 
 Theodore. "You will bring an avalanche 
 down upon us and spoil it all." Seek- 
 ing to calm myself, I took a pull from a 
 bottle. "I wish I had time to take some 
 of that, but I am busy now," says Theo- 
 dore, throwing aside his impotent rifle 
 and grasping his knife. The bear made 
 a great lunge. I shut my eyes. And 
 then I found myself unable to move. We 
 were all covered by an avalanche. I dug 
 out as fast as I could, and when I reached 
 the surface, there stood Theodore. 
 
 "Where's that bear?" he demanded im- 
 periously. 
 
 "You had him last," says I. 
 
 "You may well say that I had him. 
 But he is gone. A rock rolled between 
 me and him, and when I dug over it he 
 was not there. Is it possible that at last 
 he has turned coward? Follow me!" 
 192
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I implored him for an hour's rest. 
 "Rest," says he, with contempt in his 
 voice, "what have you been doing? Come 
 with me or I will report your ineffi- 
 ciency." 
 
 This threat nerved me and I followed 
 him, but during the long hours we saw 
 no sign of our enemy, and at last we were 
 forced to return to the camp. 
 
 193
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 LIKE A FAIRY TALE 
 
 THE Rough Writers left off their 
 card game to gather about us and 
 ask for news, but Theodore as- 
 sured them that there was none. "Just 
 as we expected," said the chief of the 
 scribes. "But no matter, we have al- 
 ready sent in our daily report." 
 
 That night, beside the cabin fire, Theo- 
 dore was sadder than I had ever seen 
 him. He seemed more depressed than 
 on the last night of our imprisonment. 
 He had received a dispatch urging him 
 to come at once to Washington. "It is 
 almost impossible to acquaint Mac with 
 194
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the gravity of this situation," says he, 
 with his eyes fixed upon the fire. But I 
 am going to have that bear." 
 
 "Do you think, in view of all that has 
 happened, that it is quite possible for you 
 to get him?" says I, dodging as he looked 
 up at me. 
 
 "If you were other than a detective I 
 should mutter, 'fool that you are,' " says 
 he, and fell into silence. 
 
 An old man, one of the early pioneers, 
 came in to visit us., And it was not long 
 before he began to talk of Sir Billy. "I 
 have known that bear going on twenty- 
 five years this coming spring," says he, 
 looking back into the past, "and nobody 
 has ever killed him yet. An old Gipsy 
 woman used to tell us that he repre- 
 sented the spirits of all the grizzlies that 
 had been slain, and that if he were ever 
 killed, the remaining bears would not 
 fight but give in, all of them. She said 
 195
 
 THEODORE 
 
 that his death would mean the extinction 
 of the race." 
 
 "Then I have been appointed to bring 
 this about," says Theodore. 
 
 "Did the old woman mention that 
 fact?" 
 
 "No; she didn't say that anybody was 
 to kill him." 
 
 "Then she didn't know her business, 
 that's all there is to her." 
 
 "She wasn't the only one that seemed 
 to know all about him," says the old 
 man. "An old Indian woman, the grand- 
 mother of Slit Ear, the chief, told us 
 about him. She said that he was the 
 great spirit of all bears, and that he had 
 existed for thousands of years. She said 
 he had slain all the animals whose bones 
 are found in the rocks." 
 
 "That's a very pretty story," says 
 Theodore. "Go on." 
 
 "She said," continued the old man, 
 106
 
 THEODORE 
 
 stroking his white beard, "that there was 
 once a great prize fight between this bear 
 and a mighty mastodon." 
 
 "Prize fight!" exclaimed Theodore. 
 "Now do you interest me much. Go 
 on." 
 
 "The mountains were new in those 
 days," says the old man. "They had 
 just raised up out of the marsh, and it 
 was a dispute among the animals as to 
 who should own them. The mastodons, 
 and all the thing-o-ma-jig things with 
 long names and tails, swore that the new 
 land was theirs by right of being there 
 first, but along comes the grizzly and 
 declared that he was there as soon as 
 anybody, beating the sunrise by about 
 seven points. This raised a great laugh 
 among the animals sunning themselves 
 on the rocks, so the fight was arranged. 
 There was a mighty crowd on the day of 
 battle. The mastodon came up, laugh- 
 197
 
 THEODORE 
 
 ing to himself, and then along came the 
 grizzly, looking pleased but modest. 
 The fight began about high noon and 
 lasted till nearly sunset. The mastodon, 
 every one allowed, bore himself bravely, 
 but the bear was too much for him. 
 There was a great wailing in the moun- 
 tains that night, for all the mastodons 
 and dinosaurs and lizard things knew 
 that their day was past. And so it was, 
 for on the following morning the great 
 bear went out and slew the whole kit of 
 them. This old woman said that these 
 truths were revealed to her, and she was 
 willing to< swear to them before a justice 
 of the peace. And now what do you 
 think?" 
 
 "I think that I am more than ever de- 
 termined to kill him," says Theodore. 
 "For look," says he, "if it hadn't been 
 for him, we would have had great game 
 in the Rockies." 
 
 198
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I went to sleep, leaving Theodore and 
 the old pioneer still talking, and when I 
 awoke the sun was shining. Theodore 
 was already up and dressed. "This day 
 shall see the finish of it all," says he. 
 "Get what provisions you can, for I am 
 not coming back till this prolonged con- 
 test is at an end." I saw by his counte- 
 nance that he meant what he said, 
 and accordingly I cooked eight days' 
 rations. 
 
 "And there is something else to be at- 
 tended to," said Theodore. "We must 
 take mules enough to haul him in." 
 
 "You don't appear to have any doubt 
 as to the result," says I, stuffing bread 
 into a bag. 
 
 "None in the least. The die is finally 
 cast. ,My only fear is that he may evade 
 me. But no, he has confidence. He is 
 game. He must know that his time is 
 bound to come, and I think he would 
 199
 
 THEODORE 
 
 rather yield his spirit to me than to any 
 one else." 
 
 The mules must have had an inkling 
 of what we wanted with them, for they 
 kicked and bit at each other and at me 
 as they were led forth. A short distance 
 from the camp we met the soda-water 
 scholar and invited him to go along to 
 conduct the mule train, but he shook his 
 head sadly and refused. "Good-bye," he 
 says to me. "I may never see you 
 again." I felt somewhat nettled at his 
 singling me out, but said nothing, only 
 that I was pleased to bid him farewell. 
 And now once more, and for the last 
 time, I believed, we were on the march 
 against Sir Billy. I did not believe that 
 Theodore could kill him, but I believed 
 that this last effort would discourage all 
 future attempts. Everything was pro- 
 pitious except the mules. They hung 
 back, and bit at one another spitefully. 
 
 200
 
 THEODORE 
 
 But Theodore was patient. There was 
 something sublime in his manner. Was 
 he going to slay the ancient master of 
 the mountains? And when the master 
 were slain, would the mountains sink 
 again down into a marsh? These were 
 things for Theodore to consider, and I 
 suggested as much; but, pointing toward 
 the mountain top, he said, "Onward!" 
 
 201
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 THE BATTLE ROYAL 
 
 WE MET a man who came tum- 
 bling down the trail, and he re- 
 ported that the bear was com- 
 ing. Instantly the mules wheeled about 
 and struck out for the camp. I would 
 have followed them, but Theodore inti- 
 mated that doubtless I should be required 
 as referee. Further on a pack of wolves 
 swept past us, with their ears lying back 
 flat. An eagle, appreciating their dan- 
 ger and their fright, screamed, mock- 
 ingly, high in the air above them. The 
 sweeping wolves paid no attention to us. 
 They did not even make an effort to bear 
 
 202
 
 THEODORE 
 
 off to the right or the left, but so pressed 
 were they for time that one of them ran 
 between Theodore's legs. This was ex- 
 citement of a high order, but as yet we 
 had seen nothing of the bear. We knew, 
 however, by the frightened man and the 
 terror-stricken wolves, that he was com- 
 ing. 
 
 "He has nerved himself for his final 
 and, I hope, his last effort," says Theo- 
 dore, as I exerted myself to keep pace 
 with him. "I am glad the sun is shin- 
 ing, and I hope it won't go down till vic- 
 tory is assured to one or the other," he 
 continued, after a short pause. Then he 
 halted and said : "I will choose this level 
 place for a battle ground. No avalanche 
 can save him here." 
 
 I looked about me as Theodore 
 
 halted. There was but one rock within 
 
 reach, and our hero commanded me to 
 
 climb upon it, out of harm's way. And 
 
 203
 
 THEODORE 
 
 this I proceeded to do without argument, 
 and with no hesitation. Looking far 
 ahead, I saw what seemed to be a flurry 
 of snow. But it was not it was the 
 bear, surrounded by mists which his own 
 hot breath created. I looked at Theo- 
 dore and saw him brace himself. He had 
 not brought his useless rifle, but he had 
 a knife that looked like an ancient Roman 
 sword. "I shall never have the oppor- 
 tunity to vote for you again," I mused. 
 Why do great men persist in throwing 
 themselves into the red jaws of fate? On 
 came the bear, looking neither to the 
 right nor to the left. And now his 
 movements were not swift and bounding, 
 but rather slow and majestic. I fancied 
 that his mind flew back to dwell upon 
 that pre-historic time when he slew the 
 mastodon. I had my gun beside me, 
 and believing that it was my duty as a de- 
 tective to render all possible assistance, 
 204
 
 THEODORE 
 
 I took good aim at his head and fired. 
 He caught the bullet in his mouth, spat 
 it out, looked at me with contempt, and 
 came right on as before, with measured 
 tread. 
 
 "Put down that pop and cease meddling 
 in affairs that don't concern you," says 
 Theodore, bracing himself anew and giv- 
 ing me a fine exhibition of the quiet and 
 well-contained play of his muscles. By 
 this time the bear was within fifty yards 
 of him. I wondered if Theodore's great 
 spirit would not faint at the last mo- 
 ment. But it did not. With head bent 
 slightly forward, and with one foot well 
 braced behind, he nerved himself for the 
 shock. When within about six feet of 
 him, the bear reared to the full of his 
 enormous height and sprang forward to 
 seize Theodore in his arms. And he suc- 
 ceeded, to my surprise, for I had ex- 
 pected Theodore to duck. But he did 
 205
 
 THEODORE 
 
 not. He let the bear grab him. He 
 doubtless relied on the strength of his 
 buckskin garments. Ah, he did not 
 count amiss. And now came a wrestle 
 the like of which has not been seen on 
 this continent. The bear pinned down 
 Theodore's right arm, so that he had no 
 chance to use his knife. The first fall 
 I am compelled to award to the bear. 
 But Theodore was up in a moment, 
 though he had lost his knife the bear 
 was trampling it under his feet. They 
 broke loose and, for a few moments, 
 squared themselves and boxed, and such 
 boxing! ; Where could a bear have re- 
 ceived such training? One would have 
 thought that he was from Harvard. 
 Choosing his time Theodore gave him a 
 punch in the jaw and downed him, but 
 he was on his feet in an instant. Then 
 they closed again, and this time Theodore 
 threw him, but it was in the nature of a 
 206
 
 HE LET THE BEAR 
 
 GRAB HIM. Page ao6
 
 THEODORE 
 
 foul, for he fell on his side. Theodore 
 strove to turn him over and press his 
 shoulders against the ground, but he 
 arose with his antagonist and at it again 
 they went, more furiously than before. 
 And now it was Theodore's turn to fall, 
 and it was a hard one. I was mortally 
 afraid that he would not get up in time, 
 but he did, his vigor seeming in no wise 
 impaired. But this great strain could not 
 long be borne. Theodore knew his dan- 
 ger he knew that the bear would wear 
 him out at last, so now his efforts were 
 directed toward the recovery of his knife. 
 The bear's activity increased with each 
 moment of the fray, and the knife had 
 been kicked some distance away. Five 
 times did Theodore lunge for it, but the 
 bear grabbed him each time and hurled 
 him back. Would he never get it? Ah, 
 with a mighty bound he reached the 
 knife, seized it plunged it into the bear, 
 207
 
 THEODORE 
 
 and turned it round. There came a 
 gurgling noise and a great spurt of black 
 blood, but the bear was not vanquished. 
 Indeed, he appeared to fight with added 
 fury. Theodore seized another oppor- 
 tunity and let him have the knife be- 
 tween the shoulders, but it struck a lump 
 of lead and did no harm. They closed 
 again and waltzed as if to music. I 
 noted with delight that the bear was los- 
 ing strength in consequence of his flow 
 of blood. Suddenly he stopped to cough, 
 and Theodore stabbed him in the breast. 
 He reeled, and again he got it, in the 
 throat. Now he was on his haunches, 
 with his head swaying. He strove to get 
 up, but Theodore was too alert for him. 
 Time after time the knife went home and 
 came out dripping. And then all the air 
 was filled with a great groan, as if low 
 thunder were poured from a heavy cloud 
 there was a gasp and a gurgle, and all 
 208
 
 THEODORE 
 
 was over. I expected Theodore to leap 
 upon his dead foe and wave his hat, but 
 he did not. He looked up at me and 
 says, "Would you mind fetching those 
 mules?" 
 
 I went after the mules, and when we 
 made them understand that the bear was 
 dead, they approached willingly. It took 
 four of them to drag the bear, and all the 
 way down the mountain we saw other 
 grizzlies, but they ran away like rabbits. 
 
 Counting the lead, and this was fair as 
 it had become a part of him, the bear 
 weighed nearly four thousand pounds. 
 It took us all, including the Rough Writ- 
 ers, until daylight to skin him, and when 
 the task was done, Theodore wrapped 
 himself in the hide and lay down to peace- 
 ful dreams. His great work was accom- 
 plished. The Rocky Mountains were 
 now open to peaceful pursuits. I went 
 out and looked up at the stars, and upon 
 209
 
 THEODORE 
 
 the towering mountain peaks, wonder- 
 ing if these great masses, the admiration 
 of the world, would sink back into the 
 marsh. 
 
 210
 
 inc-iurri *- 
 
 IARY< 
 
 UNIVERSITY OF CALIFORNIA LIBRARY 
 
 Los Angeles 
 This book is DUE on the last date stamped below. 
 
 
 JAI 
 
 IBTD ro-'IWB 
 
 i NOV041385 
 ;EP 3 1986 
 
 80i-7,'70(N8476B8) 0-120
 
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 0^ x "%J3AINfl-3l\V 
 
 3 115800481 4884 
 
 UC SOUTHERN REGIONAL LIBRARY FACIL TY