AuftJhoir's Edlnftjiont, limnfced to n<& 
 copne, oiF wSaklh ftlhns is Ho. 
 
 // W'T*JW^*L*4^4M^
 
 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN
 
 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 BY 
 G. FRANK LYDSTON, M. D. 
 
 BURTON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 KANSAS CITY MISSOURI 
 1921
 
 COPYRIGHT 1921 BY 
 
 BUETON PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 (DRAMATIC AND CINEMA RIGHTS RESERVED)
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 BOOK I 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I AN UNCONSCIOUS RIVAL .... 11 
 
 II How IT ALL BEGAN 22 
 
 III AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST .... 30 
 
 IV HENNESSY BEGINS LAYING His WIRES 40 
 V THE FRAME-UP 54 
 
 VI THE STRIKE 70 
 
 VII TROUBLE BEGINS BREWING ... 87 
 
 VIII TROUBLE MAKER AND PEACE MAKER 101 
 
 IX A GUEST OF THE COUNTY .... 126 
 
 X CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE . . . 138 
 
 XI LABORERS WORTHY OF THEIR HIRE . 160 
 
 XII SHORT SHRIFT 174 
 
 BOOK II 
 
 XIII THE NEW DEAL 213 
 
 XIV HELL ON THE HUDSON .... 225 
 XV THE NEW TRUSTY 241 
 
 XVI BEARDING A HOBBYIST IN His LAIR . 250 
 XVII A REVELATION AND A CALLER WHO 
 
 GETS CALLED 271 
 
 XVIII MR. HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 292 
 
 2040768
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 XIX MORE STAR VISITORS .... 304 
 
 XX THE AWAKENING 326 
 
 XXI THE GET-AWAY 336 
 
 BOOK III 
 
 XXII THE ARGONAUT 357 
 
 XXIII THE NEW SCHOOL-MA'AM . . . . 380 
 
 XXIV INITIATING A TENDERFOOT ... 392 
 XXV LUCK STRIKES THE HOUSE OF Mc- 
 
 GINNIS ....... 411 
 
 XXVI HORTON HEARS SOME INTERESTING 
 
 THINGS AND CENSORS THE PRESS . 428 
 
 XXVII AT THE LITTLE RED SCHOOL HOUSE 456 
 
 XXVIII SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STRIKE . . 490 
 
 XXIX SMITHERS MAKES A NEAR-BULL'S-EYE 512 
 
 XXX AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 531
 
 To my friend 
 BRAND WHITLOCK 
 
 A writer not only of remarkable stories, but also of 
 great messages for humanity's weal, and one of the 
 noblest actors in the most terrible tragedy in history, 
 as a token of appreciation of the man and his work, 
 in memory of " White Nights in Old Bohemia," and 
 in tribute to those friends of our confident youth 
 who have passed on, this volume is inscribed, by 
 
 THE AUTHOR
 
 BOOK I
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS RIVAL 
 
 Mr. Hennessy was mad mad clear through. His 
 mighty shoulders shook with rage, and the poise of 
 his bullet head and beefy neck suggested an infuri- 
 ated bull preparing to charge. He literally was 
 frothing at the mouth. 
 
 One who knew Hennessy 's habits might have sus- 
 pected incipient hydrophobia ; the river was close by, 
 and limpid, aqueous fluids were particularly abhor- 
 rent to him. He believed in the external application 
 of water, it is true, but with the reservation that it 
 should not be used prodigally, indiscriminately, nor 
 too often. 
 
 In this connection it may be remarked that it is 
 a matter of record that, while a member of the New 
 York city council, the Hon. Mr. Hennessy had de- 
 feated an appropriation for public baths on the 
 ground that it was dangerous for poor people to 
 wet themselves all over in winter, and that in sum- 
 mer they could go to Cape May, or to Atlantic City. 
 He did not mention Coney Island, as he just then 
 was in a mix-up with the managers of the various 
 entertainments offered at that interesting resort 
 over a matter of license renewals. The city father 
 had ideas of his own as to the price at which certain 
 things should be "kissed through" at the City Hall. 
 
 But it was not the detested aqua-more-or-less-pura
 
 12 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 of the river that had aroused the distinguished cit- 
 izen's wrath. He was seeing things things he did 
 not like, which could be neither bromided away nor 
 eliminated by aperient waters and Turkish baths. 
 
 Hennessy was not handsome at best. His huge 
 frame had become flabby from lack of exercise and 
 padded with fat which he would have been far better 
 without. His wind was bad and his movements 
 sluggish in brief, the one-time Bowery " champ" 
 was out of condition. Tradition still made him a 
 "holy terror" in a saloon brawl, and with his ob- 
 vious prestige added to that tradition it was not 
 remarkable that he was still cock of the walk in 
 the awed and select circles in which he moved. 
 
 With those whom he wished to impress, Hen- 
 nessy 's prestige lost nothing by sartorial oversight. 
 His tailor and haberdasher habitually did their 
 worst. From his silk hat to his patent leather shoes, 
 there was no discord in his attire. The enormous 
 solitaire-bedecked expanse of loud-striped shirt, the 
 flowing tie of rainbow hues and the "horsey" clothes 
 with their rotund lines and noisy checks, were ab- 
 solutely in tune with the man and his trade. 
 
 Time, dissipation and full-fed prosperity had 
 worked havoc with what little facial beauty Hen- 
 nessy once might have had, and King Alcohol, most 
 redoubtable facial artist of them all, had without 
 stint laid the high lights on the great man's nose. 
 His eyes had retreated between puffy sacs that once 
 were lids, and the "tin ears," which he had acquired 
 in gruelling ring battles in his earlier years, stood 
 out from his head like irregular masses of cauli- 
 flower that someone in a spirit of waggishness had 
 painted a variegated blend of purple and red. 
 
 Anger did not improve Hennessy 's appearance,
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS EIVAL 13 
 
 and when to his livid facial expression of rage that 
 of jealousy was added, it was not remarkable that 
 the result should have been far from pleasing or 
 conducive to confidence. Even the denizens of the 
 Bowery doubtless would have found it somewhat 
 fearsome. 
 
 1 'So, Maggie Halloran!" he growled, "that's why 
 you turned me down, eh? You're stuck on that 
 damned dude! Well, I may have lost out in the 
 love game, but I '11 show that big stiff where he gets 
 off before I get through with him. If I'm not to 
 have you, you'll not be for the likes o' him, the dirty 
 buttinski. I'll teach that guy better than to monkey 
 with Tom Hennessy 's buzz-saw, you betcher life ! ' ' 
 
 Having delivered this tyuculent speech to the un- 
 responsive air, Thomas, alias "Boss," alias "Bull" 
 Hennessy stepped out from behind a pile of heavy 
 timbers that lay beside the railroad track, near the 
 village of A . . ., from which point of vantage 
 and seclusion he had been gazing at a couple sitting 
 on a little fishing pier that jutted out into the tran- 
 quilly flowing Hudson, apparently gazing idly at 
 the setting sun as it sank in its golden and crimson 
 glory behind the emerald Catskills. 
 
 Pausing just long enough to shake his ponderous 
 fist in silent, vicious menace at the unsuspecting 
 subjects of his espionage, Hennessy sullenly wend- 
 ed his way to a large steamer lying at the wharf 
 a little farther up-stream. He scowlingly went 
 aboard, was obsequiously greeted by the captain and 
 every official of the boat who chanced to catch a 
 glimpse of the mighty New York politician, and 
 disappeared in a stateroom de luxe off the main 
 saloon. 
 
 "Reckon the Boss has got a grouch on," com-
 
 14 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 mented one of the freight-handlers, who were busily 
 engaged in hustling a mountain of barrels and boxes 
 from the wharf to the boat. 
 
 11 Surest thing ye know, an' the Lord help the 
 feller that's riled him!" replied his mate. 
 
 "Ye may well say that, Jimmy," returned the 
 other, "Tom Hennessy's a pretty handy man in a 
 scrap an' a lot better when he starts after ye 
 with his gum shoes on. He 's bound to land ye, eith- 
 er way an' he gits away with it, too. He's got a 
 pull like one o' them freight engines on the Central. 
 He tells the police an' the judges an' juries just 
 where they git off, ye kin bet on that. ' ' 
 
 The two rugged freight-handlers stood gazing in 
 open-mouthed admiration after Mr. Hennessy un- 
 til he had slammed shut his stateroom door with an 
 emphasis that bore convincing testimony of his irri- 
 table state of mind. Even then they probably would 
 have continued to gaze raptly at the barrier that 
 concealed their hero, had not the captain noted their 
 delinquency and floridly cursed them back to earth 
 and to work. 
 
 An hour later the boat was on its way down the 
 river to New York, bearing Boss Hennessy and his 
 rage to surroundings congenial to grouches, where 
 a "peeve" was wont to grow into assault and bat- 
 tery and a full-blown grudge oft blossomed into mur- 
 der in hot or cold blood as occasion might demand. 
 
 Hennessy was correct enough in his estimate of 
 his own chances with Maggie Halloran, and had 
 made a shrewd and by no means illogical guess at the 
 chances of his supposed rival in winning the favor 
 of that somewhat flirtatious young woman. 
 
 As later will be noted, Miss Halloran is not the
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS KIVAL 15 
 
 heroine of this story. Her only excuse for appear- 
 ing at all in these pages is that she afforded Boss 
 Hennessy an apparently legitimate cause for hatred 
 of the hero a hatred most portentous of evil for 
 its victim. 
 
 Slight causes the simplest human conditions 
 sometimes set in motion very important social ma- 
 chinery. If Maggie Halloran had not been a co- 
 quette one of those physically virtuous but morally 
 unstable females that are found in every social 
 sphere this story never would have been written. 
 
 Maggie Halloran was the daughter of John Hal- 
 loran, a section foreman on the New York Central 
 railroad, who was handling a large gang of laborers 
 engaged in construction work at A . . . Her moth- 
 er long since had passed on to that bourne where, 
 let us hope, the harder- working wives of hard-work- 
 ing Irishmen who earn their bread by the sweat of 
 their brows in the employ of soulless corporations, 
 find every morning in their celestial homes elegant 
 spring bonnets, matinee tickets, bricks of ice-cream, 
 and other good things denied them here on earth. 
 
 At the age of twenty, with no mother to guide her 
 and hold her down to earth, and with such mis-edu- 
 cation as her ambition urged her to seek and her 
 father's means permitted him to provide, Maggie 
 Halloran 's tastes and aspirations had put her in 
 something of a class by herself in the eyes of her 
 father's friends and associates. A persistent de- 
 vourer of yellow-backed literature, and a firm believ- 
 er in the theory that medieval sleeping beauties 
 were small potatoes compared with real, up-to-date 
 "live ones" in the matter of capturing princes, she 
 had "no time" for the hard-fisted, sweaty sons of 
 labor with whom she daily came in contact. Even
 
 16 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 union cards impressed her not. Regarding a cer- 
 tain "union" in which the applicants strove for a 
 life job, with herself as co-worker or possibly boss 
 she had views of her own, in which automobiles, 
 fine feathers and social affairs were the main fea- 
 tures. Needless to say, her day-dreams had no 
 room for shovels, mattocks, sledges, oaken ties, 
 spikes, frogs, switches, fish-plates, rails, or even a 
 "full dinner-pail." 
 
 Realizing in a vague, misty sort of way that his 
 daughter and himself were in a sense out of harmony, 
 John Halloran at first resented her assumption of 
 superiority to his associates as being somewhat per- 
 sonal to himself, but finally accepted the inevitable 
 and came to regard Maggie as being of superior 
 clay. This attitude, as may be imagined, did not 
 add to his popularity with the horde of rough and 
 ready admirers who worshipped the young woman 
 from afar and would have come nearer had occasion 
 permitted. 
 
 "A man's a man for a* that," sang glorious Bob- 
 bie Burns, and when an honest, hard-working man 
 seeks his mate, the immortal poet's sentiments are 
 likely to find an echo in the toiler's heart. The more 
 primitive the heart, the louder and more insistent 
 the echo. 
 
 The idea of the unattainable, rather than self- 
 depreciation, deters the homely social moth from 
 the pursuit of the butterfly. Let the butterfly offer 
 the slightest encouragement, and see how quickly 
 the chase begins, which chase often has been success- 
 ful and has caused much trouble. Primitive sex 
 instincts may lead to love in a cottage, but, when 
 poverty, sickness and despair come into the door
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS EIVAL 17 
 
 of that cottage, love sometimes leaves by way of the 
 cellar exit. 
 
 Nothing of this, however, ever entered Maggie 
 Halloran's pretty little head. Self-love and a more 
 or less hazy ambition for social position were so 
 strong in her that philosophy had no place in her 
 cosmos. As for doing the really unconventional 
 things which lead to moral wreckage well, she was 
 a good Catholic, and even the veriest skeptic, if he 
 be a man of the world, knows that this means much. 
 
 When Boss Hennessy, who was a near neighbor 
 of John Halloran's and political king of his home 
 ward in New York, came a-courting his daughter, 
 the honest Irishman was extremely flattered and 
 saw visions of political, business and, to his unin- 
 structed mind, even social preferment, through an 
 alliance of his girl with the Boss. Hennessy, as the 
 father well knew, was not only a political dictator, 
 at whose imperious nod even the big chiefs of Tam- 
 many were wont to fetch and carry, but also was 
 " solid" with the railroads, who needed and did not 
 hesitate to use at a price political influence in 
 Albany. Being solid with corporations spells wealth, 
 hence Boss Hennessy was rich, passing rich, and 
 Hallpran felt that a wealthy son-in-law was not 
 a thing to be lightly regarded. Above all, he had 
 not forgotten that it was to Boss Hennessy that he 
 owed his own position with the Central, for good 
 positions were scarce. 
 
 A little knowledge on his daughter's part was a 
 dangerous thing for Halloran's ambition, as that 
 worthy gentleman soon discovered. Maggie had 
 views of her own as to the difference between social 
 tweedle-dee and tweedle-dum. She had read many
 
 18 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 accounts of young ladies who had captured princes 
 or heroes, none of whom was named Tom, or Mike, 
 or anything as plebeian as these. Claudes and Har- 
 olds, Basils and Reginalds there were a plenty, but 
 not a single "Tom" in all the lot. Duverneys, Von 
 Waldens, D'Artagnans and Feather stonhaughs 
 there were in abundance, but in all her reading of 
 chivalry and romance there appeared not one Hen- 
 nessy, 'Shaughnessy, or even plain Jones. The 
 Smiths were out of consideration altogether, for 
 the best Captain John drew was a squaw. Maggie was 
 posted on "Who's Who in New York" and was 
 willing to compromise on an Astorbilt or a Van Der 
 Gould, but a Hennessy never! 
 
 When, in answer to the paternal suggestion that 
 Mr. Hennessy had serious intentions which inten- 
 tions should be agreeable and flattering to the Hal- 
 lorans Maggie laid her own ideas before her father, 
 he stormed and raged like an offended bear, but 
 without result save to discover that his daughter 
 was more like her mother than he ever had imagined. 
 The dear departed had been the only thing on earth 
 that "Fighting Jack" Halloran ever had been afraid 
 to face. She had worn the trousers for the family 
 and, to Halloran's astonishment, when the occasion 
 finally arose, his daughter donned and wore them 
 with quite as much determination and sureness of 
 action as had her mother before her. 
 
 This was a facer for Halloran, but he made the 
 best of it and when the Boss tentatively broached to 
 him his hope to make Maggie Mrs. Thomas Hennessy, 
 the foreman diplomatically assured him that he was 
 his most ardent admirer and loyal supporter, but 
 would take the liberty of stating that the girl was 
 "young yet," full of impractical ideas and "roman-
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS EIVAL 19 
 
 tic humbug" and that it would require time to win 
 her. Meanwhile the Boss should be patient, relying 
 on solicitous attentions and a father's influence to 
 win the point which was so dear to the hearts of 
 both men. 
 
 "Above all, Mr. Hennessy," he advised, " don't be 
 af ther crowdin ' things too fast. Maggie is a girl to 
 be led. Ye can't drive her she's her mother's very 
 own." 
 
 As to even the "leading" of Maggie by anybody, 
 her father also had certain ideas of his own, which 
 he discreetly kept to himself, feeling confident that 
 if the wind blew in the wrong direction Maggie 
 could be relied upon to show Mr. Hennessy the way 
 home by "the straight road and the level," sans cer- 
 emonie. 
 
 Maggie Halloran would have been less than femi- 
 ninely human, had she not taken a certain pride in 
 dangling Boss Hennessy 's scalp at her belt. Safe 
 in her heart of hearts lay the image of her prince, 
 which a Hennessy never could shatter, mar nor re- 
 place. Retreating behind this image she could give 
 the Boss his conge at any time, if the ardor of his 
 suit or the exigencies of the game ever should make 
 it necessary to retire him from the field. 
 
 To Maggie's other admirers, Hennessy was a hero, 
 aye, a demigod, of most colossal mould and irre- 
 sistible to the female heart. To her girl friends, he 
 was a prize beyond the heart's wildest desire. His 
 attentions, therefore, served to give heartaches to 
 other suitors and keep them at a distance, while^ as 
 for the ambitious ones of her own sex, his adoration 
 lighted in their own souls the fires of envy and 
 jealousy. 
 
 So, meaning nothing at all and absolutely sure of
 
 20 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 herself, Maggie Halloran allowed the Boss to 
 pile false hope upon false hope, enduring his clove- 
 and-alcohol breath, coarse manners and worse Eng- 
 lish until well, until the real hero appeared on the 
 scene. It was then that Boss Hennessy received 
 a jar that blighted his hopes, ended his romance, 
 shook his self-conceit to its very core and aroused 
 the demon that lies deep down in the souls of all 
 primitive men and Hennessy was primitive, if ever 
 man was. 
 
 When John Halloran went up the river with his 
 gang, his daughter accompanied him, as a result of 
 which Boss Hennessy suddenly developed an all- 
 absorbing interest in railroad construction and be- 
 gan to be fashionable in the matter of week-ends. 
 The village of A ... grew very attractive to 
 the Boss and he not only spent his Sundays in the 
 dead-alive little burg, but became addicted to unex- 
 pected droppings-in during the week, much to the 
 edification of his many near-rivals, including both 
 those whom Maggie left behind her in New York 
 and her silent worshippers among her father's men. 
 
 The coquettish Miss Halloran at first had wel- 
 comed Hennessy as a relief from the monotony of 
 life in A ... and had ruthlessly gone through 
 the motions of the game known to the fair sex as 
 "leading him on." During several of his recent vis- 
 its to his charmer, however, the Boss, with the cun- 
 ning of one to whom experience has brought knowl- 
 edge or at least distrust of the fair sex, had 
 noted a decided change in the young woman's de- 
 meanor toward him. She became distant, ill at ease 
 in his society and negligent of the histrionic arts 
 by which she had put in leading strings a man who 
 was almost repellent to her, and whose society she
 
 AN UNCONSCIOUS RIVAL 21 
 
 had tolerated as much for policy in behalf of her 
 father as for the gratification of her own coquettish 
 inclinations and feminine conceit. 
 
 Believing in taking the figurative bull of romance 
 by the horns, Hennessy decided to ascertain in the 
 most direct manner possible exactly how his stock 
 stood in Cupid's market; he accordingly proposed 
 to the young woman, and found that his stock was 
 just one hundred points below par, being promptly 
 rejected. 
 
 Knowing the variability of the female heart and 
 not unmindful that the rib from which God made Eve 
 was a "floating" rib, Hennessy decided to stick 
 around a while and take a chance on the object of 
 his affections changing her mind. Not being a fool, 
 but in general a shrewd judge of human nature and 
 not less conceited than other men, he decided to 
 keep his weather eye open for a possible rival. To 
 his mind there could be no reason for any woman 
 resisting his charms other than some other man 
 who knew better than he how to "put it over." 
 
 The Boss could not be on the ground all the time, 
 but he readily found agents who were several polit- 
 ical henchmen of his were working with the con- 
 struction gang. These men were only too eager to 
 curry favor with the politician by acting as his car- 
 rier pigeons. They did their work well, and their re- 
 ports should have been conclusive enough, but Hen- 
 nessy was ever a player of the sure thing, so he 
 determined to investigate for himself. A mid-week 
 trip to A ... and a half hour's quiet personal 
 sleuthing were sufficient to convince him that his 
 pigeons had brought him an * * owre true tale. ' '
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 HOW IT ALL BEGAN 
 
 When Robert Parkyn secured a position as assist- 
 ant in the engineering branch of the construction de- 
 partment of the New York Central Railroad, he felt 
 that he had reached the second round of the ladder 
 on which he hoped to climb to success. The first 
 round was the acquirement of a good education. The 
 son of a poor widow, his father having died when 
 the boy was so young that he scarcely remembered 
 him, he had been compelled to make his own way in 
 the world almost from infancy. 
 
 His mother was the daughter of a fine old Belgian- 
 French family, as impecunious as it was aristocratic. 
 Artistic in temperament and naturally industrious, 
 she had learned the art of lace-making from an old 
 woman servant whom her parents had brought with 
 them to New York. 
 
 Faithful old Suzette builded wiser than either she 
 or her young mistress knew, when she taught young 
 Louise the art by which many generations of the 
 old servitor's family had made an honorable living, 
 for when Robert Parkyn, Senior, died, he left noth- 
 ing but debts behind him. He was a successful law- 
 yer, who saw even greater success just ahead, and 
 spent his money as fast as he made it. He loved 
 his wife and boy, but, like many others who love 
 their families, he forgot that the world did not love 
 his dear ones well enough to protect them from want,
 
 HOW IT ALL BEGAN 23 
 
 should his own alert mind and vigorous body ever 
 fail them. 
 
 When pneumonia strikes a man the fell disease 
 does not inquire as to life insurance policies, 
 * * rainy-day nest-eggs ' ' and such things. The miser- 
 able infection simply grabs him, fills up his lungs 
 with exudate, chokes off his wind, impregnates his 
 blood with toxins, gives him a fever that clogs his 
 system with more toxins, paralyzes his heart muscle 
 with the vile poisons and refuses to give the victim 
 oxygen with which to combat them. Pneumonia 
 tries to do all this in a great hurry and succeeds in 
 a frightful proportion of cases. 
 
 Mr. Parkyn was one of these unfortunates and, 
 powerful though he was, he had no time to put up 
 even the beginning of a fight for his life. He was 
 dead in forty-eight hours dead so soon that his 
 widow's distress was an odd combination of grief, 
 astonishment and skepticism. That her big, strong, 
 kind husband was no more was to her incredible. 
 
 The funeral over, the sense of heavy responsibil- 
 ity almost overwhelmed Mrs. Parkyn, but through 
 the kind ministrations of several old friends of the 
 family, she finally regained her equipoise and re- 
 solved to face the world as bravely and uncomplain- 
 ingly as she could. 
 
 At the suggestion of a woman friend who chanced 
 to know of her accomplishment in the art of lace- 
 making, the widow visited one of the large New 
 York dry-goods establishments and inquired as to 
 the possibility of securing occupation in repairing 
 valuable laces. She was overjoyed to learn, not 
 only that her art was in great demand, but that there 
 practically was a monopoly in lace-mending awaiting 
 a genuine artist at the work.
 
 24 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Lace-mending is difficult and especially trying to 
 the eyes and, although she was well compensated 
 for her labor, there was a limit to the amount that 
 Mrs. Parkyn could accomplish. It therefore was a 
 great relief to her when her son became old enough 
 to do a small part toward the family up-keep. It 
 was a joy also for the mother to discover that young 
 Robert was industrious and ambitious. 
 
 Mr. Parkyn was an educated man and his wife had 
 an education far above that of the average cultured 
 woman, hence it was not strange that she resolved 
 that her son should have advantages at least equal 
 to those which his parents had enjoyed. A degree 
 for her son from his father's own Alma Mater, 
 was the least that would satisfy the mother. The 
 son's own ambition heartily endorsed the mother's 
 plans. By the most frugal economy and thrift and 
 almost unbelievable industry, they finally saved 
 enough to put the boy through Harvard. 
 
 At college young Parkyn proved a most exempla- 
 ry student. Not only was he at times well up to- 
 ward the head of his classes, but he was the crack 
 all-round athlete of the school. Even today, many 
 a Harvard old-timer will recall the glorious day 
 when "Bob" Parkyn 's wonderful play lowered the 
 Yale colors in ignominious defeat and sent the sons 
 of Eli home as depleted in pocket as they were 
 broken in spirit. 
 
 The old boxing instructor at the Harvard gym 
 was wont to tell until the day of Ms death, of the 
 time that Bob, in taking a lesson, hit the veteran 
 of a hundred battles a wallop that put him down and 
 out. Quoth the veteran ex-champion : 
 
 "That lad whipped one over on me jaw that was 
 a free ride down Queer Street. I'm blowed if it
 
 HOW IT ALL BEGAN 25 
 
 didn't take two pails o' ice water and an ounce of 
 ammonia to bring me back. An' don't you think I 
 was easy, son; your uncle could sure go some in 
 those days!" and the old fellow roared with mer- 
 riment at a memory of which the average man would 
 have failed to see the humor. 
 
 Although inclining toward a profession, young 
 Parkyn had no taste for the law and the ministry 
 did not appeal to him, while as for medicine, it 
 jarred his esthetic sensibilities. His bent was me- 
 chanical and mathematical rather than otherwise, 
 hence it was quite natural that his mind should 
 have been attracted by the profession of engineer- 
 ing. A civil engineer, therefore, he resolved to 
 become. 
 
 By odd jobs of work outside of study and reci- 
 tation hours and during vacations, the ambitious 
 young fellow managed to earn money to pay his 
 way through the Massachussets Institute of Tech- 
 nology, and to that institution he went soon after 
 his graduation from Harvard. 
 
 His twenty-fourth birthday found Robert Parkyn 
 back in New York ready to do battle for fame and 
 fortune. His capital inventoried as follows: 
 
 ITEMS 
 
 1. One clear, alert head, full of ideas and ideals. 
 (Some of the ideas were impractical moonshine. The 
 ideals were largely rosy "pipe dreams.") 
 
 2. Eighteen or twenty pounds, more or less, of 
 good rich blood, coursing through a system in which 
 not a grain of toxins nor a single pernicious microbe 
 lurked. 
 
 3. Six-feet-one of bone and sinew, supporting one
 
 26 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 hundred and ninety pounds of solid muscle, trained 
 to the minute and fit as a fiddle. 
 
 4. A clear eye, clean morals and an unweighted 
 conscience. 
 
 5. One million gallons, pounds or yards of ambi- 
 tion. 
 
 6. One Harvard degree. 
 
 7. One degree from the Massachusetts "Tech." 
 
 8. One dear old mother, worn and weary, with 
 eyes dimmed by age and tedious, trying work. 
 
 This was considerable capital, but to find avenues 
 of investment for it was another story. Business 
 men are not hypnotized by college degrees and 
 never sit up nights worrying about the other fel- 
 low's ambitions. 
 
 Some people might not regard the dear old moth- 
 er as an asset. The experienced, philosophic ones 
 will. While loving her loyally, Bob probably did 
 not so regard her; he was inexperienced and was 
 not a philosopher. He did not know, moreover, 
 that it takes a whip to make a fellow go. If there's 
 any whip more effective for the right kind of a man 
 than a helpless old mother, it is not yet on the mar- 
 ket. 
 
 Of the various assets with which Parkyn started 
 out on his upward climb, only his good health and 
 muscle appeared to be marketable and even for them 
 the demand was by no means constant. Somebody, 
 somewhere, however, most of the time needs manual 
 labor, and after long, persistent, but fruitless effort 
 to dispose of his knowledge at a living wage, the 
 young man was compelled to market his ^muscular 
 power for somewhat less than a decent living wage. 
 
 He had begun to despair of ever attaining the 
 second round of the ladder which he felt himself
 
 HOW IT ALL BEGAN 27 
 
 competent and was so ambitious to climb, when he 
 secured a job as freight-handler at the New York 
 Central terminal station. Chance now did for him 
 what persistent effort had failed to accomplish; he 
 attracted the attention of one of the influential of- 
 ficials of the road who, recognizing in the young 
 man superior stuff, and learning of his technical 
 training, secured for him an assistantship in the 
 engineering department. 
 
 When, several months later, young Parkyn re- 
 ceived an appointment to the superintendency of 
 the construction work at A . . ., he was de- 
 lighted; it was his first responsible assignment and 
 he felt that much depended upon it. He realized that 
 it gave him the very opportunity he longed for, to 
 show, at least in a small way, the technical know- 
 ledge with which he hoped to win his way to success 
 in the profession of his choice. If, however, the 
 young man had known what momentous events in 
 his life were destined to revolve around the as- 
 signment, he would not have been so enthusiastic 
 in its acceptance. But the fates plan our lives with- 
 out consulting us. We play life 's game of chess on 
 a board all set with ready-made pieces and, despite 
 all free-will arguments, there are those who believe 
 that we cannot alter the quality of even a pawn, 
 and that an invisible but invincible hand guides ours 
 in every move. 
 
 It was with a light heart that the young engineer 
 boarded the up-river steamer for A ... As the 
 boat wheezed and nosed its way up-stream, Bob for 
 the first time awoke to the beauties of the Hudson, 
 and discovered in himself a vein of romantic senti- 
 ment and artistic imagination the existence of which
 
 28 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 he never had suspected. The foam plowed up by 
 the no longer prosaic steamer's prow sparkled like 
 jewels in the sun of that beautiful spring morning. 
 The various pleasure craft were wonderful beetles, 
 and snowy-winged butterflies tinged with silver and 
 rose. They once were dingy, man-made things of 
 sombre hues and grimy sails, but in the sunlight of 
 that bright morning they were transformed into 
 properties from Wonderland. The Palisades were 
 marvels of grandeur and stateliness. It seemed 
 strange to him that he never before had noticed 
 this. He had seen the Palisades dozens of times 
 on outing trips. 
 
 Up-river lay the foot of the rainbow and that 
 mythical pot of gold of which even men, those child- 
 ren of larger growth, are wont to dream. What 
 magic in the hopeful heart of youth! magic that 
 transmutes base metal into gold, paints the world 
 with colors to its liking and sees the topmost round 
 of the ladder of fame as soon as the lowest one is 
 pressed by the confident, because inexperienced foot. 
 
 To youth, all things are possible. Success is at 
 the end of every road, it matters not what the quest. 
 Youth has but to reach out its hand and grasp both 
 the million and the golden girl. It was an old gray- 
 bearded fake philosopher who, mouthing lies and 
 whistling in the dark to keep up his senile courage, 
 said that forty-five was the "prime of life." 
 
 Forty-five the prime of life? Yes, estimating it 
 as the connoisseur does cheese as "prime" when 
 it's a little too bad to eat and a little too good to 
 throw on the garbage heap. 
 
 When Bob Parkyn landed at A ... he was 
 walking on air. As he strode up to the little hotel 
 where he was to be domiciled for several months,
 
 HOW IT ALL BEGAN 29 
 
 he glanced appreciatively at the mountains, behind 
 which the late afternoon sun was descending like a 
 huge red ball of glowing molten copper, threw back 
 his sturdy shoulders, elevated his chin just a trifle 
 higher than was habitual with him, drew in deep 
 breaths of the balmy spring air, glanced at the in- 
 different idlers hanging about and half wondered 
 why the arrival of the future President of the New 
 York Central should cause so little excitement among 
 the towns-people. He did not get an accurate sense 
 of his own proportions until the next morning, when 
 the dream-president of the road stepped down and 
 out, and plain Mr. Robert Parkyn assumed his de- 
 cidedly unromantic duties as superintendent of rail- 
 road construction.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 
 
 Miss Maggie Halloran was an exceedingly wide- 
 awake young person. She had a keen eye for human 
 externals and an instinctive appreciation of the 
 "real thing" in masculinity when it came within 
 range of her perceptive faculties. These faculties 
 worked with great rapidity, and at dinner on the 
 very evening of his arrival at A . . ., the new 
 superintendent was "sized up" and marked for in- 
 vestigation. 
 
 The stage setting for a romance was simple 
 enough ; the Hallorans boarded at the little inn and 
 as the female Barkis, Maggie, was willin', the rest 
 was easy. 
 
 Bob Parkyn was not a lady-killer, nor especially 
 susceptible to the lure of sex, but like every other 
 young man who chances to be marooned where there 
 is but one really attractive girl, from whom a fel- 
 low couldn't get away if he would, and wouldn't if 
 he could this regardless of whether the situation 
 develops more than a passing sentimental interest 
 in the fair one he accepted the inevitable and nat- 
 ural ; consequently Maggie and he soon became very 
 good friends. 
 
 The young woman certainly was fair to gaze upon, 
 and a less serious-minded young man than Parkyn 
 probably would have immediately fallen a victim
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 31 
 
 to her blandishments. She bore, to be sure, the 
 unmistakable stamp of the ordinary parvenue who, 
 by virtue of a smattering of education and a well-de- 
 veloped imitative faculty, has to a certain degree 
 risen above the social status to which she was born, 
 but this was more than offset by the physical endow- 
 ments that nature had lavished upon her. Her 
 wealth of raven-black hair, clear brunette complex- 
 ion and large, luminous gray eyes, with their long 
 dark lashes that looked as if they had been darkened 
 by the touch of a sooty finger, formed an aggrega- 
 tion of charms which is unmistakably characteristic 
 of a certain type of Irish beauty. To these attrac- 
 tions were added a lithe, voluptuous figure, and a 
 piquancy and animation that were Maggie Hallor- 
 an's very own. 
 
 But Bob Parkyn was decidedly on another job 
 just then, and while not averse to the companion- 
 ship of the little Irish lass for A ... was 
 deadly dull after working hours he had no thought 
 of even casual gallantries, while as for anything 
 more serious, Maggie was obviously de classe', even 
 if our hero had been looking for matrimonial trou- 
 ble, which he most emphatically was not. He was 
 far from being a snob, but anything save genuine 
 culture and true gentility of breeding in women did 
 not appeal to him. Maggie's occasional lapses into 
 slang and the undeniable flippancy of speech in 
 which she too often indulged, alone would have been 
 sufficient to hold in check any serious intentions on 
 his part. 
 
 Although at first sight he instinctively disliked 
 Hennessy and subsequent observation merely crys- 
 tallized his distaste for the Boss, that important 
 personage was not an appreciable quantity in the
 
 32 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 young engineer's cosmos. Haying formed an ad- 
 verse opinion of him, he had given him no further 
 thought. Neither had he ever been interested in 
 Hennessy's attitude toward either Maggie Halloran 
 or himself. 
 
 Miss Hallo ran 's dreams of princes and heroes 
 ever were tinged with a degree of commercial practi- 
 cality. She knew something of the salaries of young 
 railroad superintendents of construction, hence she 
 primarily regarded her attempts to land Bob Parkyn 
 as by way of a flirtation and all in the day's work. 
 She found, however, that the young man was a 
 pretty slow proposition and the new experience of 
 being the hunter instead of the quarry at first piqued 
 and then with the fascination of the not easily 
 attainable aroused in her bosom the belief that her 
 prince really had come. As was to have been ex- 
 pected, her interest grew warmer as the object of 
 her pursuit seemed more oblivious to her charms, 
 and the inevitable happened. She soon fell as vio- 
 lently in love with the young superintendent as was 
 possible for a woman with her regard for self-in- 
 terest. 
 
 Despairing of success along orthodox lines of 
 courtship in which woman is expected to be merely 
 a passive party and confident that Bob was obdur- 
 ate merely because he could not see that her hither- 
 to irresistible charms were all for him, the young 
 woman finally resolved to be more aggressive than 
 the canons of good taste would have approved. 
 
 But desire must wait upon opportunity, and Par- 
 kyn, blissfully ignorant of the situation and himself 
 as proper and open-minded as a well brought up 
 youth should be, gave the young woman no oppor- 
 tunity to lead him into any situation in which sen-
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 33 
 
 timent might have been given play. She laid all 
 sorts of ingenious traps for him, but without suc- 
 cess. Moonlight boat rides, late afternoon strolls 
 by the river, tete a tetes in obscure corners of the 
 veranda of the rambling old inn, expressive glances 
 and doleful sighs alike missed fire. He talked on 
 serious subjects; perversely he misinterpreted his 
 fair companion's tricks of the eyes as expressions 
 of interest in his various topics of conversation 
 most of which, it must be acknowledged, were Greek 
 to her whilst her sighs merely elicited from him 
 solicitous and purely friendly inquiries as to the 
 state of her health. 
 
 On the evening our story opens and Boss Hennes- 
 sy's mind was so perturbed, Maggie Halloran had her 
 first opportunity to talk sentiment with Bob Parkyn 
 an opportunity which proved to be barren enough, 
 for he responded to her lead by bringing in a third 
 person in a manner that effectually blocked all furth- 
 er assaults by her upon the citadel of his heart. 
 
 Parkyn was sitting on the veranda of the hotel 
 enjoying a quiet after-dinner pipe, when he spied 
 Maggie on the little fishing pier, apparently idly 
 throwing bread crumbs to the hungry small fish, 
 large schools of which were playing about in-shore. 
 
 A wiser one than the young engineer at once 
 would have seen that the lady was posing for his 
 special edification. Even he, however, noted that 
 she was very graceful and that her every movement, 
 outlined as it was against the background of the 
 river, displayed her magnificent figure to the best 
 advantage. 
 
 Looking up as if casually, she called to him and 
 beckoned him to join her, with a wave of her hand that
 
 34 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 appeared artless enough to the uninitiated young 
 man, but in which a more worldly individual would 
 have detected the guile displayed since the world 
 began, by every daughter of Eve who hath gone 
 man-hunting. 
 
 Parkyn just then would have preferred self- 
 communion in the silent companionship of Lady 
 Nicotine, but a pretty girl was calling him and he 
 perforce was compelled to do her bidding, so he 
 leisurely strolled down to the pier. 
 
 The couple seated themselves on a mass of cordage, 
 and Maggie proceeded to cast her hook for the fish 
 that she had resolved to land in Cupid's net. Wheth- 
 er the young woman's adroitness was not equal to 
 the ardor of her quest, or she was unskilled in 
 diverting conversation from the purely intellectual 
 topic affected by Parkyn into the realms of senti- 
 ment, would be difficult to say, but whatever the ex- 
 planation, her efforts met with poor success until by 
 a happy inspiration she alluded to an elopement in 
 New York high life, an account of which she had 
 read that day in the metropolitan papers. 
 
 " I suppose, Mr. Parkyn," she ventured, "that 
 such romantic happenings do not appeal to you at 
 all." 
 
 "I must acknowledge that they do not, Miss Hal- 
 loran either to my sympathy or understanding," 
 he replied, indifferently. 
 
 She stabbed aimlessly with her parasol at the 
 toe of one of her dainty white slippers, and then 
 looked coyly up at the young engineer from beneath 
 her huge white hat, with eyes full of meaning for 
 one who could or would see. 
 
 "Is it because you haven't had experience that
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 35 
 
 you can't understand nor sympathize with lovers?" 
 she queried, demurely. 
 
 He looked at her somewhat quizzically. 
 
 "I fear that must be the explanation, Miss Hal- 
 loran. On the other hand, perhaps I have been too 
 busy to sit up and take notice. My duties always 
 have kept me in the treadmill of work, and I've 
 not yet had time to look around. 
 
 "Then there's another reason of which I am cer- 
 tain," he continued, with a laugh. "My dear old 
 mother would raise an awful row if she ever sus- 
 pected that she had a rival." 
 
 The young woman evidently was not gaining 
 ground and began to fear that she was up against 
 a stone wall, but, gamely enough, continued what 
 bade fair to be a losing battle. She bit her lip and 
 with difficulty restrained the impulse to stamp her 
 foot in emphatic relief of suppressed emotions. 
 
 "You don't mean to say that you never were in- 
 terested in any woman but your mother that you 
 never had a sweetheart f ' ' 
 
 "Not since I courted a little tow-headed girl with 
 her hair in braids who lived next door, toted her 
 books to school and fought the other boys for her 
 smiles. We were going to get married when we 
 grew up, but our tastes evidently changed. She 
 went away to school, I went to Harvard, and we 
 forgot all about our pledges. She finally married 
 a rich shoe merchant and left the country, that is," 
 he laughed, "she went to live in New Jersey, while I 
 well, I married a profession." 
 
 There were tears of vexation in Maggie Hallpran's 
 eyes as she looked away toward the mountains, in 
 pretended unconcern.
 
 36 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Parkyn noticed the young woman's emotion and 
 was startled. Like a flash he comprehended her at- 
 titude and cursed his own stupidity in permitting 
 matters to develop as he had done. It was a delicate 
 and critical situation, and he was wise enough to 
 realize that it was his duty to convince her, as 
 diplomatically as he might, but once and for all, 
 that the case was absolutely hopeless. 
 
 Man's instinct of self-preservation, like woman's 
 intuition, sometimes is a useful substitute for the 
 judgment that experience brings. It certainly did 
 yeoman service for Bob Parkyn on this occasion 
 an occasion which, no matter how skilfully and suc- 
 cessfully he might handle the affair, was likely to be 
 embarrassing. 
 
 "I was not quite frank with you, Miss Halloran, 
 I have been for some time interested in a young 
 lady but," and he laughed merrily, "I never have 
 met her, and don't even know her name." 
 
 Miss Maggie immediately lost interest in the scen- 
 ery at which she had pretended to be gazing, and 
 was all attention. She even forgot the tears she 
 had been trying to conceal. So sudden was the 
 interest excited in her bosom that she instinctively 
 lapsed into slang. 
 
 "You've never met her! What are you giving 
 met" 
 
 Although wincing at her slang, Parkyn was quiet- 
 ly amused by the volume of skepticism displayed by 
 the young woman's vulgarism. 
 
 "I don't wonder that you are skeptical, but the 
 explanation is simple. I became interested in the 
 young lady's picture. I found it in the car on the 
 elevated one morning. It was a fragment of a maga- 
 zine illustration. Just enough of the descriptive
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 37 
 
 matter remained to show that she had written some 
 book or other, which just then was attracting the 
 attention of the public. The picture interested me 
 so strongly that I preserved it, and I still have it." 
 
 "Is she pretty?" she asked, dolefully. 
 
 "Very beautiful. But you shall judge for your- 
 self." 
 
 He took from his pocket a card case and from it 
 a picture, evidently somewhat the worse for wear, 
 and handed it to her. Maggie gazed at the picture 
 for a moment. 
 
 "I s'pose you are in love with her by now," she 
 said, returning the picture with a brave show of in- 
 difference. 
 
 "I'm afraid I am if it is possible to love a wo- 
 man whom one never has seen," he replied smilingly, 
 as he placed the picture in the case and returned it 
 to his pocket. 
 
 "Why haven't you looked her up?" she asked, 
 turning away with renewed interest in the scenery 
 across the river. 
 
 "I have not yet had time to begin the search, which 
 very likely will be a long and tedious one. There are 
 dozens of magazines and many woman authors. I 
 found the picture just before I came here and, as 
 you are aware, my present job and location are 
 not the sort that give a fellow much time for ro- 
 mancing, to say nothing of making a still hunt for 
 mysterious ladies." 
 
 "Maybe she's already married," said the young 
 woman, acidly. 
 
 "Perhaps," he replied, soberly and with no sat- 
 irical intent. "That kind usually are. Some other 
 fellow almost invariably sees 'em first. But some 
 day I'm going to find out whether she is or not,
 
 38 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 and if she is well, I'll still have the picture any- 
 way, and that's all I shall be entitled to. If she is 
 single I am going to ascertain whether I have read 
 her pictured face correctly, and if I conclude that I 
 have, why, I am going to try my best to convince her 
 that I 'm the only man in the world. She 's the girl of 
 my dreams, when I have any this job of mine makes 
 a fellow sleep too soundly for much dreaming and 
 when I find her I'm going to see if I can play the 
 star role in her own dreams. ' ' 
 
 "You'd better get busy, then," she returned sar- 
 castically, trying with poor success to hide a sneer. 
 1 ' Some other fellow may be doing some dreaming 
 if she really isn 't married already. ' ' 
 
 "Possibly," he answered, gravely, "but I'll not 
 borrow trouble for, after all, the case is suggestive 
 of the old lady's formula for making chicken soup. 
 'First catch your chicken/ " 
 
 The couple sat for a while gazing silently toward 
 the river and the mountains beyond the farther bank, 
 when the young woman complained that the air was 
 growing chilly and suggested returning to the hotel. 
 
 As they rose to go, the down-river steamer swept 
 by, freighted with numerous things, not the least 
 of which was 'Boss' Hennessy and his grouch and 
 future troubles galore for our young friend, Robert 
 Parkyn. 
 
 The next evening's boat took Maggie Halloran 
 back to New York. She had informed her father 
 that she wished to make a prolonged visit with 
 relatives in Hoboken. As John Halloran was under 
 petticoat government and the "governor" was his 
 daughter, he asked no questions, but took her de- 
 parture as a matter of course.
 
 AN UNSUCCESSFUL CAST 39 
 
 Here endeth the role of Maggie Halloran in the 
 drama which will be enacted in these pages. Her 
 part -vras but a small one, but she acted quite like 
 what the chemists call a catalytic ferment she set 
 things going with a vengeance, but herself came 
 out unchanged and ready to make more trouble. 
 Her heart-ache, if she really experienced one, and 
 her " peeve " which is more to the point probably 
 lasted at least until she arrived at her destination, 
 by which time she doubtless was ready to "buck 
 up" and, like a female Alexander, seek new worlds 
 to conquer. She was young, not quite a fool, and 
 there were plenty of fish in her sea of dreams. 
 
 Parkyn understood, and he heaved a sigh of re- 
 lief when the steamer that bore the young woman 
 away left the dock, but his chief consolation was 
 that her father, for whom he had developed a warm 
 regard, evidently had no suspicion of the true state 
 of affairs. 
 
 As the boat disappeared from sight down the 
 river, the young man took from his pocket the pic- 
 ture he had shown to Maggie Halloran and gazed at 
 it long and earnestly. He scarcely knew why he 
 had preserved it. He never had been much given to 
 sentimentalizing he surely could not be really in 
 love with the pictured face of a person whom he 
 never had seen, and probably never would see and 
 yet, the face held him. The clear, intelligent eye, 
 the beautiful sensitive mouth, and the great coils of 
 dark! hair, which he felt sure must be her own for 
 they matched her heavy, exquisitely arched brows 
 attracted him most powerfully. And then he 
 looked intently at his mother's photograph, that 
 shared with the other picture a pocket in the card- 
 case. Returning both pictures to the receptacle and 
 stowing it away in his pocket, he sighed deeply.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 HENNESSY BEGINS LAYING HIS WIRES 
 
 When Boss Hennessy needed a henchman for 
 shady work, he never was compelled to waste time 
 in the quest. He always knew the man he wanted 
 for the particular job, and had only to pass the word 
 along the line by "the underground" to ascertain 
 just where he could put his finger on him. 
 
 The human rats of the underworld stood not on 
 the order of their going when Hennessy called them. 
 He merely had to designate the time and place and 
 his man was there "on the dot." On this occasion, 
 however, for obvious reasons it suited the Boss' 
 pleasure to go to his man, after he had quietly 
 located him. The tool he just then especially want- 
 ed was employed in an establishment which the 
 old-timers of New York will recall as worthy of 
 more than passing mention. 
 
 In its day, Harry Hill's resort at Houston and 
 Crosby streets, in lower New York, probably was 
 the most notorious and most cosmopolitan "joint" 
 in the metropolis. Merely to visit it savored of ad- 
 venture. No full-blooded sight-seer of the male 
 persuasion ever visited the city without taking in 
 this famous resort. Even some of the venturesome, 
 yet respectable, members of the fair sex could be 
 seen almost nightly at Hill's, in half -frightened 
 quest of the stolen fruit of novelty and excitement. 
 The stage entertainment offered was varied enough
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 41 
 
 to suit everybody, from the most fastidious to the 
 toughest of the tough. Variety acts the forerunner 
 of the modern cabaret limited-round prize-fights, 
 the can-can, selections by broken-down operatic ar- 
 tists everything was on the card, from pretended 
 moral-uplift stunts to moral-degradation specials. 
 
 Music was as essential as liquor to the pleasure of 
 Hill's patrons, but volume and explosiveness were 
 its dominant characteristics. The raucous blare of 
 the metals and the clash of drum and cymbal pleased 
 the ear of the audience better than did the softer 
 tones of the strings. As to the artistic quality of the 
 selections, the less said the better. Art and esthet- 
 ics ever have been sacrificed to sensualism in the 
 Tenderloin. 
 
 In front of the stage was a railed-in enclosure 
 devoted to Terpischore, gayest and most wanton of 
 the muses. Here, between acts, those of the audi- 
 ence who wished to dance were permitted to do so 
 without stint, audible criticism, or any regulation 
 whatsoever as to the kind of dance indulged in 
 provided it were decorous. 
 
 And dance! The dancing masters of the upper- 
 world might have learned much of grace and tech- 
 nique from the " molls," red-light " ladies" and 
 Bowery toughs who appeared in the dancing square 
 at Harry Hill's and some of the society leaders of 
 today who affect the tango, the turkey trot and the 
 grizzly bear might have learned something of sex- 
 decorum from them. 
 
 Mr. Hill made a special and strenuous point of 
 outward observance of etiquette on his public danc- 
 ing floor, which sometimes deceived the uninitiated 
 as to the character of his business and a large part 
 of his patronage.
 
 42 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The house official "heelers" ever were on the 
 alert for persons who indulged in "ungentlemanly" 
 or "unladylike" conduct. When a "lady" grew 
 boisterous or too demonstrative in her fake affec- 
 tion for some bibulous dupe, she was quietly called 
 down. Male offenders against the house rules were 
 firmly and by no means gently led to the door and 
 deposited in the gutter. If the party thus expelled 
 was not a gangster, or a "friend of the house," but 
 chanced to be a visitor worth the picking, the Lord 
 help him! He was "rolled" en route, and landed 
 in the gutter minus his watch, wallet and any jewelry 
 which he might be foolish enough to be carrying 
 about with him. Just by way of emphasizing the 
 protest of the house against rowdyism, the party 
 thus unceremoniously kicked out was so thoroughly 
 beaten up that a sojourn in Bellevue or Chambers 
 Street Emergency Hospital usually was a painful 
 necessity. 
 
 Not only did this summary method of dealing with 
 refractory customers assist in the up-keep of Harry 
 Hill's reputation for orderliness, but it served to 
 aid the official "bouncer" in keeping his hand in. 
 As the stalwarts employed by Mr. Hill were either 
 professional manhandlers and thugs, or ex-prize 
 fighters, gentle exercise with fist and foot on the hu- 
 man body was necessary to health, proper muscular 
 tone and that cheerfulness of disposition which is so 
 essential to a really enthusiastic bouncer. 
 
 The police and magistrates were in perfect sym- 
 pathy with the proprietor's conception of an orderly 
 place of entertainment and were wont to heavily 
 fine injured parties who escaped the hospital, only 
 to land in the police station, thus ably seconding 
 Mr. Hill's laudable ambition to run the most respect- 

 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 43 
 
 able, though democratic, and most popular "club" 
 on Manhattan Island, or anywhere in the vicinity 
 thereof. 
 
 Over all hung that subtle, insidious, poisonous 
 miasm of vice which marred one's very soul, and the 
 taint of which none might escape after breathing it. 
 
 Nowhere in New York could such a variety of 
 human elements be found gathered together as at 
 Harry Hill's. Blase young bloods from upper-ten- 
 dom touched elbows with immature gawks from the 
 rural districts, and staid metropolitan business men 
 rubbed against long- whiskered "rubes" from the 
 country. Sailors who had come off ship resolved 
 to have a lark, brawny longshore-men and profes- 
 sional "pugs" sat at the little tables about the room, 
 vis a vis with pale-faced brokers' clerks and shop 
 salesmen. Commercial drummers, killing time and 
 their own health and morals, with an occasional sol- 
 dier on furlough from Governor's Island, hobnobbed 
 with light-fingered dips, flashily dressed gamblers 
 and pot-bellied politicians. Professional thugs con- 
 men, strong-arm men, yeggs, gangsters, and gun- 
 men to whom robbery was a pastime and murder 
 a diversion, or even a profession all were there 
 making merry. 
 
 Here and there in the crowd could be seen a few 
 women of undoubted respectability, under the escort 
 of men who looked as ill-at-ease as their female com- 
 panions did brazen. The fair ones obviously were 
 trying to adapt themselves to their surroundings 
 and do as did the Romans. 
 
 Then there were a few forlorn-looking little shop 
 girls, not yet lost; poor little moths, fluttering 
 around the candle of vice, which was destined ere 
 long to scorch their feeble wings and drop them
 
 44 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 into the vile stew of the underworld, never to rise 
 again. 
 
 Mingled with the crowd at the tables that lined 
 the sides of the room, might be seen a number of 
 tawdry chorus girls, "gold digging" after the show, 
 and dozens of women from the tenderloin. White 
 slaves, many of them harpies, all. Some of these 
 poor creatures were " molls" consorts and stool- 
 pigeons of professional thieves. Others themselves 
 were thieves of the most dangerous and clever sort. 
 
 Even those among these women who were working 
 a "graft" of their own, also were working for the 
 "house" on commission. They quietly forced them- 
 selves on the male patrons of the place and induced 
 them to treat to drinks at exorbitant prices. The 
 women usually drank colored water. The com- 
 mission on this was higher than on the real stuff 
 and drunkenness was not conducive to success in 
 the efforts of the women to work their individual 
 graft. 
 
 The illustrious Mr. Hill probably would have re- 
 sented the assertion that his resort was a "speak 
 easy," but nevertheless that is precisely what it was, 
 the women who plied their trade in the place having 
 a business understanding and arrangement with the 
 house, either on their own account or that of the 
 cadets and white slavers who owned them, soul and 
 body. 
 
 From time to time some painted Circe led her 
 victim from the hall to her lair in the neighboring 
 tenderloin to be despoiled of his valuables by the 
 panel game or by open violence. 
 
 The evil wrought by these poor unfortunate wo- 
 men stopped not with their immediate victims. Of- 
 ten they infected their patrons with foul and loath-
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 45 
 
 some disease, which they in turn carried to decent 
 female kind to ruin their health, wreck their lives 
 and blight, destroy or blind their posterity. 
 
 A grim revenge this, which the scarlet woman ever 
 has inflicted upon the society that has cast her out, 
 and upon the sex that has pulled her down, enslaved 
 her body and corrupted her soul a revenge still 
 more terrible upon her sisters of the order of purity 
 and higher social standing, who are wont to gather 
 their immaculate skirts about them, shrink as from 
 a leper, and pass by on the other side when they meet 
 upon the street the woman of the underworld. 
 
 The "gon-molls" professional female ''dips" 
 did their work upon the spot, so cleverly that rarely 
 was there any "squealing" on the victim's part with 
 the resultant necessity for a hypocritic howl by the 
 management. 
 
 The dexterity of these women was almost incredi- 
 ble. A man's wallet often would be taken from his 
 pocket by one of them, his roll extracted and re- 
 placed by a wad of paper wrapped in a single re- 
 maining bill and the wallet returned to his pocket 
 without detection. 
 
 The women usually worked in pairs, the wallet 
 with its entire contents, or the money alone, being 
 passed to a confederate, who, under pretext of re- 
 tiring for a moment, disappeared and never came 
 back. Diamonds, or other jewelry, and watches went 
 the same road. 
 
 The * ' police, ' ' say you f Don 't waste time discuss- 
 ing the police. Mr. Hill ran a "respectable" resort 
 under police "protection." When a "boob" made 
 a "holler," and the woman was arrested, the police 
 took good care to so delay the machinery of the law 
 that the victim of the robbery was tired out long
 
 46 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 before the case possibly could come up for trial. 
 This was especially easy if, as often was the case, 
 the victim was a respectable farmer or substantial 
 business man from out of town who, like as not, 
 passed the plate on Sundays and couldn't afford to 
 have the smell of brimstone on his clothes when he 
 returned home. And smell to heaven his garments 
 would, if the home folks ever read in the metropoli- 
 tan papers of his fall from grace. 
 
 If it was necessary to compromise with the victim, 
 the police did so, suggesting to him that he ought 
 to be satisfied with getting back without publicity 
 or loss of time, half his money and the watch that 
 his "dear old father" gave him. Whatever terms 
 were made with the victim, the woman thief gave 
 to the police half the net proceeds of the robbery 
 "gun money." 
 
 If the victim was game and the case finally 
 came up for trial, the police magistrate and the 
 public prosecutor did their duty to their friends 
 and the complainant left the court room with in- 
 creased patriotism and wonderment at the marvels 
 of law and justice. 
 
 The gamblers who led their pigeons from Harry 
 Hill's to be thoroughly plucked in safe and secluded 
 rooms upstairs, or conveniently situated nearby, and 
 the thugs and confidence men who led their victims 
 away to slug and rob them at leisure, basked in the 
 smiles of the Tammany Tiger and were "protected" 
 by the official powers that prey the "men higher 
 up," who are the most voracious of all the grafting 
 blood-suckers of our social system. 
 
 Even when the victim passed from earth by the 
 assassination route to return no more the river was 
 not far away and a blackjack or a "life preserv-
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 47 
 
 er" made no sound the denizens of the underworld 
 were unafraid, for they stood together. Without 
 their help, the police would have been powerless, 
 even if they had been honest and efficient, for if ever 
 criminals cease to betray criminals, the sleuth, like 
 Othello, will find his occupation gone. 
 
 As the gamblers paid monthly tithes to the police, 
 and hence were "solid with the front office" at the 
 City Hall, their various paraphernalia were fixed to 
 win, and " trimming a boob" was as safe as shooting 
 Shanghai chickens in one's own back lot. The "gen- 
 tlemen" whom the victim met at poker were experts 
 in slight-of-hand, marking cards and manipulating 
 cold decks. 
 
 There are many honest policemen, but no honest 
 police systems. Police business really is a "busi- 
 ness" and run on up-to-date lines. The police in- 
 dustry in our large cities always has stood on four 
 mighty pillars, each as big and powerful as Atlas. 
 It has been supported on one corner by crime, on 
 another by prostitution, on another by the liquor 
 traffic and on the fourth and last by the cocain and 
 4 'hop" joint. All four of these pillars ever have 
 rested upon a foundation of corrupt politics. Since 
 cities began, the corner-stone of the rotten edifice 
 has been graft. 
 
 In all reason, should the police be expected to do 
 the Samson act and pull down its own house about 
 its ears? Is it so remarkable that the police system 
 should swallow up the decency and self-respect of 
 so many of those who officially live by it? The 
 police grafter is often as much the victim of the 
 corrupt system as are the taxpayers whom he so 
 poorly and venally serves and who, in the last analy- 
 sis, really are responsible for the system.
 
 48 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 It was midnight on " amateur night" at Hill's. 
 On the stage shrieked, capered and cavorted a dozen 
 or so unfortunate, degenerate, theoretically male 
 creatures branded by nature with the awful stigma 
 of sex abnormality. These blots upon humanity's 
 scutcheon were alleged amateur female impersonat- 
 ors, going through a pretended " trying out" pro- 
 cess. The crowd knew better and the wise ones 
 were aware that the human misfits were perverts 
 from resorts close by "protected" resorts well 
 known to the police, devoted to the most awful de- 
 baucheries known to degraded humanity, which, when 
 it sinks to the absolute zero of depravity, gives the an- 
 thropoid apes and the pithecanthropus a good case 
 of libel against Darwin, and puts a gray parrot out 
 of the running, so far as immorality is concerned. 
 
 Mr. Hennessy arrived at Hill's a little before 
 midnight. He was greeted with the deference which 
 always characterized his entree to public gatherings 
 in the tenderloin. The proprietor himself bowed 
 most servilely and would have shaken his hand had 
 not the Boss rudely brushed past, going to a far 
 corner of the room, where he seated himself at an 
 unoccupied table. 
 
 The waiters and some of the patrons commented 
 in whispers on the distinguished new arrival, and 
 several of the female contingent of the crowd glanced 
 admiringly in his direction, but Hennessy 's mag- 
 nificent isolation was not disturbed. The wise ones 
 knew better than to intrude on the gentleman's priv- 
 acy without important business or a special invita- 
 tion it would not have been healthful and the 
 dullest observer might have seen that the Boss want- 
 ed to be alone.
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 49 
 
 Hennessy languidly watched the entertainment un- 
 til a boxing bout was staged. He showed some inter- 
 est in this, but it was too tame and unsanguinary to 
 suit him. 
 
 "A pair o' rotten dubs!" he snarled, quite audib- 
 ly, and then lapsed into complete indifference. 
 
 Boss Hennessy was a pretty tough specimen of 
 humanity and no stickler for the proprieties, but he 
 was possessed of the masculine virility which charac- 
 terizes many of his class, and when the "amateur" 
 stunts came on the boards his face expressed his 
 disgust in unmistakable fashion. He was about to 
 openly manifest his displeasure by leaving the hall, 
 intending to emphasize his protest against the dis- 
 gusting exhibition by returning at the conclusion 
 of the act, when he caught sight of the man he was 
 seeking, who was in the act of bouncing from the 
 hall and "rolling" an obstreperous patron of the 
 place. 
 
 The bouncer was returning to his post, grinning 
 with satisfaction at the pleasure and profit of a 
 duty well-performed. Hennessy caught his eye, 
 greeted him with an almost imperceptible nod, and 
 beckoned td a waiter who was passing with a tray 
 of poison for a near-by table. The man hurriedly 
 delivered his tray and hastened to the boss. 
 
 "Say, Bo," ordered Hennessy in a low tone, "tip 
 it off on the quiet to Butch that I want him to take 
 a pasear over this way an' stumble onto me acci- 
 dentally. Don't get balled up now. Chase yerself! 
 An' don't let anybody get wise. Bring me a schoon- 
 er o ' suds for a stall. ' ' 
 
 "I got yer, Mr. Hennessy," said the waiter, with 
 a wink, as he pocketed the half dollar tendered him 
 by the Boss and disappeared. He returned short-
 
 50 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ly with the beer and a few minutes later unostenta- 
 tiously delivered the message. 
 
 The man whom Hennessy wanted glanced cun- 
 ningly toward him, cleared his throat behind his 
 hand to indicate that he understood and a little later 
 strolled toward Hennessy 's corner, glancing from 
 side to side as he progressed, as if looking for more 
 breaches of decorum on the part of the guests. 
 
 The bouncer, apparently by accident, caught sight 
 of Hennessy just as he was about to pass that wor- 
 thy's table. 
 
 "Well, well! Just lookee who's 'ere! Mr. 'En- 
 nesy, blime me h'if it ain't! Where 'd you blow 
 from?" 
 
 "From up-river, Butch. Been havin' an outin' 
 an' a good time generally." 
 
 "Glad ye 'ad a good time, Mr. 'Ennessy, but 
 there's no h'accountin' for tastes," and Butch 
 
 frinned meaningly. "W'en h'l goes for a h '.outin' 
 don't go h 'up-river. Not if h'l knows it. Don't 
 like the 'otels h'up there, sir, 'specially at . . . " 
 
 "Yes, I know," interrupted the Boss, testily, 
 "but if you'd use yer brains more and yer gun less, 
 ye wouldn't know so much about that stir up-river. 
 There's a new style warden up there now, who 
 ain't broke in yet. He believes in reformin' crooks 
 with baths and spellin' books. Them things 'd be 
 fatal to you, so you 'd better cut out the rough stuff. ' ' 
 
 "H'all right Boss, h'I'll be careful. H'l don't 
 care to 'elp break that fierce guy in. But h 'I '11 tote 
 me little smoke- wagon, just the same. When a feller 
 needs it, 'e needs it damn bad." 
 
 "Sit down and have a beer, Butch. It'll look bet- 
 ter."
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIRES 51 
 
 "Ugh! H'l'm so full o' Dutch suds now, that 
 me teeth is afloat an' me mouth tastes like a Chinese 
 laundry, but h'I'll take a small beer, h'if it's a stall 
 ye want, ' ' and the crook dropped into a chair. 
 
 "What luck with that geek ye bounced just now?" 
 asked Hennessy. 
 
 "Nothin' h'extry," and Butch grinned sheepish- 
 ly. "A h 'off-colored spark, a leather wit a kid's 
 roll h'in it, an' a yellow clock an' slang that looks 
 like it might h'a been 'is grandpa's. H'I'm bettin' 
 it's shice, but maybe it's the real goods h'at that. 
 The 'ole bloomin 'aul looks like h'eats an' beer fer 
 a week, that's about h'all." 
 
 The waiter delivered the beer and the two men 
 touched glasses. 
 
 "Meet me at Black Bill's tomorrow night at ten 
 sharp," Hennessy said in a low tone, looking at the 
 stage and apparently commenting on the perform- 
 ance. He looked at his watch "No, it'll be tonight; 
 it's one o'clock, or I'm a Dutchman! Don't let any- 
 body pipe ye off, an' say nothin' to nobody. See?" 
 
 "You're h'on, Mr. 'Ennessy." 
 
 The two drained their glasses, shook hands, 
 and bade each other good night, Butch returning 
 to his strenuous duties and the Boss, after sitting 
 a while to divert suspicion, should any have been ex- 
 cited, leisurely departed from the hall, nodding a 
 curt greeting to several men and women as he 
 passed. 
 
 Hennessy smiled sardonically as he recognized 
 in the crowd on his way out, several groups of men 
 and women from the aristocratic sections of the 
 city who, under the guise of a "slumming" expedi- 
 tion were doing the red-light district and the var-
 
 52 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ious disreputable resorts of the tenderloin and 
 incidentally gratifying primitive instincts that were 
 stronger than curiosity. 
 
 He also saw men of gentle birth and breeding who 
 were there looking for the suffrages of the " sub- 
 merged tenth." These were prospective candidates 
 for office or, as the denizens of the district expressed 
 it, "swell guys out fer de big graft." 
 
 These latter persons were regarded somewhat cyn- 
 ically by the Boss. He often had taken full advan- 
 tage of the fact that politics makes strange bedfel- 
 lows, and had done some very profitable business 
 in furnishing questionable votes for aristocratic 
 office-seekers who, while justifying dubious means by 
 profitable ends, considered themselves superior to 
 the men who sold them votes and furnished them 
 repeaters at so much a hundred, and he felt only 
 contempt for such persons. 
 
 At the farther side of the room, near the entrance 
 to the hall, Hennessy observed one of his female 
 "discards," who appeared to be under the escort 
 of one of his sworn political foes. The party of 
 four or five at the woman's table appeared to be 
 discussing the Boss in an obviously unfriendly way. 
 
 Hennessy contemplated the group for a moment. 
 
 "Didn't take you long to catch another sucker, 
 Aggie," he chuckled sardonically to himself. "I 
 wish him joy of ye the d d boob ! Hope ye trim 
 him proper," and he went serenely on his way. 
 
 At the door, the urbane and politic Mr. Hill bade 
 the Boss good night and asked him how he liked the 
 show. 
 
 "Most of it'll pass muster, Harry, but take it 
 from me, ye 'd better cut out them Willie boys with 
 the petticoat stunts. They'd queer a show at a
 
 HENNESSY LAYS HIS WIEES 53 
 
 nigger joint in hell. That sort o' rough stuff makes 
 a real guy seasick. Get me? 
 
 The immorally proper Mr. Thomas Hennessy 
 passed out into the night, leaving Mr. Hill vainly 
 trying to reconcile his knowledge of the Boss's eth- 
 ical principles or rather, his lack of them with 
 his attitude toward abnormal sex depravity in gen- 
 eral and its exponents in the form.of amateur female 
 impersonators in particular.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE FRAME-UP 
 
 " Black Bill" was one of New York's most ver- 
 satile and industrious citizens. His place on the 
 water-front, not far from where the New York end 
 of the Brooklyn Bridge now stands, had manifold 
 uses for its patrons. Ostensibly a resort for sea- 
 men, as the sign, " Sailors' Anchorage and Home" 
 over the door ostentatiously proclaimed, it really 
 was one of the worst dens of thieves and other social 
 scum in the city which implies one of the worst in 
 the world. 
 
 Originally a "crimp" and the keeper of a sailors' 
 doggery in an English seaport town, from which he 
 was induced to emigrate by an unfriendly constabu- 
 lary and police magistracy, Bill Sayer was peculiar- 
 ly qualified to conduct a disreputable dive and 
 trap for luckless sailor-men in the metropolis 
 of America. Incidentally, he had "done time." 
 Quarrelsome when in his cups, a terror in a rough- 
 and-tumble fight, absolutely unmoral, and fearless 
 in battle as a bulldog, the hard-fisted ex-convict was 
 a man whose very friendship was dangerous and 
 whose enmity was well-nigh fatal to its object. 
 
 Woe to the luckless sailor-man who fell into Black 
 Bill's vulture-like clutches! If the victim chanced 
 to be drunk, he was robbed "lush working" was a 
 specialty among the habitues of the place, who 
 served Bill and got their "divvy." If he was sober
 
 THE FRAME-UP 55 
 
 and had money the sailor was slugged to death's 
 door and his pockets rifled ; he sometimes was mur- 
 dered outright, his body being stripped at leisure. 
 
 There was no chance of the thugs being brought to 
 book. The police on the water-front knew their bus- 
 iness and were deaf, dumb and blind, when any dis- 
 turbance was heard that might cast suspicion on 
 Black Bill's joint. 
 
 When seamen were at a premium, "knock-out 
 drops" were used, and the sailor robbed and shang- 
 haied. When the poor devil awoke to a conscious- 
 ness of his surroundings, he found himself penniless. 
 He also discovered that he had been signed, sealed 
 and delivered to some sailing master and was well 
 out to sea, where distance from shore and a rope's 
 end skilfully applied were sufficient argument that 
 he would better accept the inevitable. 
 
 It was at Black Bill's that the river and harbor 
 pirates of New York planned their depredations 
 along the water front ; it was there that they divided 
 and concealed their spoils. Bill was their clearing- 
 house and fence, and what was more, he was a friend 
 of Boss Hennessy's, and that made him a friend 
 of the "bulls," from the humblest plainclothes man 
 or patrolman, to the lordly chief in the front office. 
 
 One of the most profitable industries carried on 
 at Black Bill's was the barter and sale of white 
 slaves. From originally keeping on hand a supply 
 of these poor creatures for the benefit of the male 
 patrons of the house, to the establishment of an 
 "exchange" patronized by the keepers of the resorts 
 of the red-light district, was a most natural devel- 
 opment. 
 
 "Skirts" were easy to obtain. By getting in
 
 56 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 touch with procurers in the New England factory 
 towns and subsidizing immigration officers who had 
 a keen eye for eligibles landing at Castle Garden, 
 friendless and alone, Bill was able to make the sup- 
 ply of white slaves at all times equal to a large and 
 profitable demand. 
 
 Black Bill's establishment was especially well lo- 
 cated for the more hazardous branches of his busi- 
 ness granting that, under police protection, his 
 business really involved any hazard. The East river 
 was near, the locality secluded, dark as Erebus and 
 deserted at night, and the rising and falling tide 
 soon took away from the immediate neighborhood 
 any dead bodies which the exigencies of Bill's nefar- 
 ious trade caused to be thrown into the river. 
 
 A "life preserver" an eelskin filled with bird 
 shot leaves no tell-tale mark on its victim's head 
 or neck, and a man who is thrown into the river 
 while unconscious from liquor or drugs is a still 
 safer proposition for the murderer, should the body 
 ever turn up on a slab at the morgue. 
 
 A dead body that has been beaten up and dis- 
 figured by bumping against the piling of wharfs and 
 docks as the rushing waters carry it to and fro, or 
 cut up by floating ice and propeller screws, tells no 
 tales to a discreet coroner's deputy, save that of an 
 "unknown" suicide or accidental drowning. Mys- 
 terious disappearances in which no corpse ever is 
 found are not even a nine days' wonder in New 
 York. 
 
 One of the obvious reasons for Black Bill's secur- 
 ity in the transaction of his business, was the great 
 service he rendered to politicians in times of pressing
 
 THE FRAME-UP 57 
 
 need. It was a dull period indeed, when he could not 
 furnish several hundred illegal voters repeaters all 
 with which to decide the party balance in a doubt- 
 ful election. Boss Hennessy probably was the 
 only man in New York who was his superior in this 
 line of patriotic endeavor. 
 
 Black Bill's place was a lazar-house for social 
 lepers of many kinds, who unfortunately were not 
 immured, but were permitted to roam about at will, 
 much to the detriment of decent folk. It was a 
 burrow in which the rats and foxes of the under- 
 world found a secure hiding-place, when the usually 
 apathetic police became aroused to the necessity of 
 making good and showing the public that the guard- 
 ians of its peace and safety really were * ' on the job. ' ' 
 Their enthusiasm never went so far as to disturb 
 Bill's dive, and if it so happened that any of its 
 denizens had to be offered up on the altar of politi- 
 cal virtue and criminal fraternity safety, Bill him- 
 self, on due notification, would "rap" on them and 
 deliver them up to the " bulls." 
 
 A safe and secluded room for private conferences 
 always was at the service of Black Bill's friends, 
 and it was not without reason that Bull Hennessy 
 selected it for the rendezvous with his henchman. 
 The star-chamber room at Bill's joint received se- 
 crets as a deep well swallows stones. They went in 
 but came not out again. 
 
 Promptly at the appointed hour, George, alias 
 "Butch" Harris, alias "English Butch," alias the 
 "Birmingham Strangler," arrived at Black Bill's. 
 Making his business known to a large blonde female 
 known as "Bill's moll," Butch was ushered into the 
 conference chamber, lit his pipe and sat down to 
 await the Boss.
 
 58 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 George Harris was a man of forty-two or forty- 
 three years of age. He was born in Birmingham, 
 England, and until the age of twenty-five was a 
 butcher by vocation and a second-rate prize-fighter 
 by avocation. He finally renounced his business of 
 meat-killing and cutting and engaged in pugilism as 
 a more or less constant occupation. 
 
 Harris was a hard drinker when not in training, 
 inclined to be belligerent outside of business hours 
 and to "run amuck" on the slightest provocation 
 which is bad policy for the pugilist. In one of his 
 tantrums he was unlucky enough to select for his 
 abusive tactics the wrong party, a gentleman ath- 
 lete, and was thoroughly whipped. He vowed ven- 
 geance and waylaying his conqueror one dark night, 
 gave him a wallop over the head with a black-jack 
 that very nearly killed him. For this assault with 
 a deadly weapon, Butch was given a ten-year stretch 
 in prison. He served his sentence and at the end 
 of it was generously furnished free passage to 
 America by a society working under surreptitious 
 British government sanction and patronage, the bus- 
 iness of which was to rid England of undesirable cit- 
 izens by presenting them gratis to Uncle Sam. 
 
 Butch landed in New York, quickly grasped the 
 political situation in that metropolis, and also noted 
 the value and safety of a life of crime for wise per- 
 sons. He first made himself valuable to the political 
 powers and then, under their protection, soon be- 
 came one of the most formidable strong-arm men 
 that ever cursed New York. His specialty was gar- 
 roting unwary pedestrians, and as he had a hug like a 
 gorilla, the disasters that occasionally happened 
 to the victims of his many "stickups" earned for 
 him the appropriate sobriquet of the ' * Strangler. "
 
 THE FRAME-UP 59 
 
 By way of keeping in proper trim for his profes- 
 sional work, he occasionally practiced his old pro- 
 fession of pugilism on the side. 
 
 Noting Butch Harris's closely-cropped head, 
 seamed with scars from many knuckles, constables' 
 batons and roughly-applied bottles and beer glasses ; 
 his retreating forehead and protruding jaw, deep-set 
 greenish gray eyes and shaggy brows, broad shoul- 
 ders, stocky figure and enormous, heavy hands, one 
 naturally would endeavor to avoid an acquaintance 
 close enough to permit the thug to display his skill 
 with his "maulies," or his ability to successfully 
 shut off one's wind, break one's larynx, or even 
 one's neck, with a strangle hold. 
 
 Promptly on time Hennessy entered Bill's dog- 
 gery and stalked through the bar-room, indifferent 
 alike to the sour fumes of stale beer, gin, fetid per- 
 sonal odors and tobacco smoke, and to the people 
 who stood at the bar or lounged about the room. 
 
 As he passed the smoke and dust-begrimed bar, 
 the "bottle-tosser" nodded in hospitable and defer- 
 ential greeting. The Boss curtly returned the sal- 
 utation. 
 
 A bleary-eyed, grey- whiskered old "soak," who 
 just then was rising from the table on which he had 
 been reposing 1 his head and sleeping off the effects 
 of Black Bill's " coffin- varnish, " staggered in front 
 of the Boss and was brushed aside as one might dis- 
 pose of a yellow dog. 
 
 The bloated, senile wreck fell face downward on 
 the floor, striking his head on a cuspidor, breaking 
 that useful if not ornamental utensil and cutting a 
 gash in his scalp from which the blood spouted 
 merrily for a brief moment and then slowly trickled 
 to the floor, to mingle with the sawdust and the re-
 
 60 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 volting contents of the overturned cuspidor, in a 
 huge nauseating, black and red and yellow splotch of 
 filth a veritable bit of " local color." 
 
 Hennessy was not wont to pick up his wounded. 
 People who got in his way must needs take care of 
 themselves. A down-and-out "lush," more or less, 
 didn't count for much with him. Election time was 
 a long way off and he had no orders for repeaters 
 to fill. He therefore paid no attention to the fallen 
 man. 
 
 The Boss strode on toward the inner sanctum, de- 
 voted to the devil and his chief works in black and 
 red and to the "long green." He turned at the 
 door, nodded to the bar-keeper, and gave him the 
 "high sign," by which it was understood that the 
 great Boss Hennessy was not to be disturbed 
 till further advices. 
 
 As the boss closed the door after him, one of the 
 group of men who stood at the bar let his curiosity 
 get the better of his discretion and addressed the 
 bar-keeper. 
 
 "What's up, Jim? Looks like the Boss had a hen 
 on." 
 
 The bar-keeper glared at the "butter-in" for a 
 second, in emphatic rebuke that contained more than 
 the suggestion of a threat. 
 
 "Dunno what you're drivin' at, Bo, but if you 
 ain't damn careful you'll get some bad air into yer 
 pipes. That gent's a stranger, what's rented the 
 private room ter clip coupons in. See! An' that 
 room ain't no chicken-coop, neither. D'ye get that?" 
 
 The man mumbled an apology and concealed his 
 confusion by ordering drinks all around, which the 
 "bottle-tosser" urbanely put on the slate this be- 
 ing conservative enough, for Bill's patrons had no
 
 THE FRAME-UP 61 
 
 homes but the dens of the underworld and no coun- 
 try but gang-land. The fellow who failed to settle 
 his score soon had neither home nor country un- 
 less he could show cause for default, in which case 
 he was "taken care of" and his "face" was good 
 until the fates sent some "cush" his way. 
 
 The poor old down-and-out was permitted to lie 
 where he fell. He finally came to his senses, stag- 
 gered to his feet and up to the bar, where he tried 
 to work the house for a drink. 
 
 "Ah, go soak yer head, ye d d bum!" said the 
 
 bar-keeper. 
 
 "Come on, Jim," quavered the "lush," huskily. 
 "Gimme just one more, that's a good feller." 
 
 "Good feller, hell!" responded the bar-keeper 
 hotly. They crucified a guy once fer bein' a good 
 feller, an' I ain't takin' no chances. See? Here, 
 Buck!" he called to a burly "strong arm," who 
 served as bouncer and porter at Black Bill's when he 
 was not "in stir" serving sentences. "Here's some 
 trainin' fer ye. Lead him to it an' give him plenty 
 o' hoof." 
 
 The huge brute grinned from ear to ear. 
 
 "Jes' lamp me, Bo!" 
 
 The helpless old lush was rushed to the door and 
 brutally kicked into the gutter ! He lay there stunned 
 and bleeding until a patrolman found him. The of- 
 ficer called a wagon, ran him in and he was booked 
 as a "common" very common "drunk." 
 
 He was found dead in his cell the next morning! 
 No autopsy was made the police were wise and dis- 
 creet as owls, the coroner's physician always was in 
 a hurry and besides, hadn't the police surgeon made 
 a diagnosis? 
 
 It would have been embarrassing if some meddle-
 
 62 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 some doctor had insisted on making a post-mortem. 
 The medical man might have babbled a lot of scien- 
 tific jargon that would have crept into the news- 
 papers. 
 
 Wouldn't it have been a "pretty howdy do," if 
 the press had ignored the police surgeon's diagnosis 
 and published something like this? 
 
 "Rupture of the middle meningeal artery from 
 fracture of the temporal bone, followed by coma and 
 death due to a large clot of blood pressing on the 
 brain." 
 
 Very unmusical and quite complex. How much 
 simpler and more comprehensible the verdict of an 
 omniscient coroner's jury that has faith in the wis- 
 dom of a police surgeon's opinion, verified by a 
 "doc" from the coroner's office. 
 
 "Died from alcoholism and exposure, with com- 
 plicating infirmities of old age!" 
 
 Who ever quarrels with the entries on the blotter 
 of a police station, or with coroner's records'? 
 
 Butch Harris had just finished his pipe when 
 Hennessy entered the room, seated himself facing 
 his henchman and abruptly proceeded to business. 
 "Glad yer on time, Butch, I've got a job for ye." 
 "H'a particular job h'l s'pose," said "Butch," 
 peering shrewdly at the Boss from beneath his mus- 
 tache-like brows. 
 
 "Most particular an' some special," replied 
 Hennessy, grimly. The kind that won't stand any 
 foolishness or mouth work. It's got to be under- 
 ground. See I ' ' 
 
 "H'l get ye, Boss, but wot's the lay?" 
 "There's a certain feller that's been walkin' on 
 my grass, an' I want him cured o' the habit."
 
 THE FEAME-UP 63 
 
 "Politics, graft or skoits?" grinned Butch. 
 
 "None o' yer damned business, Butch, but ye can 
 call it politics an' let it go at that." 
 
 " 'Ow far d'ye want me ter go, Boss!" 
 
 * ' The limit. The gent needs a change of climate, 
 an' you've got to do the prescribin' an' furnish the 
 transportation an' the sleepin car ticket. I want 
 him bumped off. D 'ye understand ? ' ' 
 
 "But, h'l say, Mr. 'Ennessy, that's comin' it a 
 bit strong h'I'm just h'out o' stir, ye know, an' 
 I 'ad a damn close call f er a bloody long stretch. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, you chump!" snorted Hennessy, "an' how 
 long did ye stay in an' who got ye out? An' what 
 would ha' happened to ye in court, first off, if I 
 hadn't jollied the governor into wisin' up the bulls 
 by pullin' the wires from Albany? A fat chance 
 you had." 
 
 "That's easy h 'answered," returned Butch, grate- 
 fully, "an' h'I'm not forgettin' 'oo came to the front 
 fer me, but, say, Boss, h'l got 'old of a 'ot one in 
 that mix-up with that blarsted bull, Steve 'Olland, 
 last week!" 
 
 "Yes," sneered the Boss, "you're real clever 
 not! Instead o' makin' a clean getaway as the 
 boys tell me ye could ha' done ye had to show 
 fight an' break the bean o' one o' Chief Kerrigan's 
 pet bulls." 
 
 "But the bleedin' beggar 'anded be a biff in the 
 jaw, an' h'I'm not used to bein' 'anded one with- 
 out 'andin' one back." 
 
 "You blitherin' idiot!" stormed Hennessy, "Why 
 didn't ye hand him one back, instead o' bendin' yer 
 gun over his head? He ain't out o' the hospital 
 yet." 
 
 "Wich is some consolation, blime me," said
 
 64 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Butch, grinning widely and showing his yellow, to- 
 bacco-stained teeth. 
 
 "Consolation, hell! It won't be much consolation 
 
 for you if some o ' them d d bulls cuts loose with 
 
 a gatt an' gits ye first an' collars ye afterward, one 
 o' these fine days. There's a lot o' difference be- 
 tween bein' taken to the station in the hurry-up 
 wagon an' bein' hauled to the morgue in an ambu- 
 lance. D'ye git that, you infernal mutt?" 
 
 Butch sullenly shrugged his shoulders without 
 replying. 
 
 "Now, see here, Butch," continued Hennessy, ab- 
 ruptly, rising and taking out his watch, "I didn't 
 come here to argue with ye. I've got other fish ter 
 fry, an' I'm goin' to quit this joint in just 
 two minutes, by the watch. If you're willin' ter do 
 the job, spiel, if ye ain't, then I'll find some red- 
 blooded guy that will. An' by the way, don't forgit 
 that I'm hep ter that little stick-up job over in 
 
 Newark. That old geezer that you croaked was 
 
 
 "Sh h! Fer Gawd's sake, Boss, don't talk so 
 bloody loud ! ' ' Butch grew pale and looked around 
 the room in fearful apprehension. " 'Ow did ye 
 know h 'about that? h'I'll swear h'l never 'Oo the 
 bloody 'ell wised you h'up ter ?" 
 
 "Of course ye didn't, Butch," and Hennessy 
 laughed sardonically, "an' of course nobody put me 
 wise till you did just now. It looked like your 
 work, an' I just guessed it was you that did 
 the job. Say, Butch, but you're easy a reg'lar 
 mark!" 
 
 "But, h'on the level, Boss," whined Butch appeal- 
 ingly, "h'l didn't think h 'about 'is bein' such a
 
 THE FRAME-UP 65 
 
 h'old feller, any'ow, an' h'l didn't mean ter squeeze 
 'is blarsted neck so bloody 'ard." 
 
 "Bunk!" sneered Hennessy, "Say, Butch, on the 
 dead ye don't think ye can git by me with that 
 squeal, do ye? If ye do, come out of it. Tell that 
 to the jury, Butch," he mocked. "That old man 
 was a mighty popular guy. He was mayor over 
 there once, an' his folks has lots o' cush, believe me. 
 I'd hate to see ye stretched, Butch, I really would!" 
 
 * ' Good Gawd ! Ye wouldn 't snitch h 'on me, would 
 ye ? ' ' and Butch fairly grovelled. 
 
 "N no; I don't believe I would," replied Hen- 
 nessy, reflectively. "Anyhow, I'd hate ter have ter 
 snitch on yer." 
 
 He looked at his watch. 
 
 "Time 'sup, Butch." 
 
 The Boss closed the time-piece, put it in his pocket 
 and started for the door. 
 
 "'Old h'on, Boss," stammered Butch, shakily, 
 "Cawn't ye wait a bit, an' give me time ter think it 
 h'over?" 
 
 "Righto!" said Hennessy, as he resumed his 
 chair. "Quit chewin' the rag and sit down and 
 think it over an' think d d hard." 
 
 Butch regained his nerve in a moment. 
 
 "Well, wot's the job? Spit 'er out. 'Go's the 
 bloke ye wants me ter croak?" 
 
 "It's a feller up-river. He's on a railroad job at 
 A ... ., superintendin'." 
 
 * * Railroad job ! Superintendin ' ! Wy the bloody 
 'ell don't ye git 'is bloomin job, an' let it go h'at 
 that?" 
 
 * ' That 's my business. What I want is ter git him 
 right. See?" 
 
 Butch astutely drew his own conclusions in
 
 66 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 which "skoits" occupied a prominent place. He 
 made no comment, however; he was wise in some 
 things. 
 
 "H'all right, Boss," he said, submissively, "give 
 me the lay. Wot's 'is monicker, an' wot's 'e like 
 w'en h'l lamps 'im?" 
 
 "His name's Parkyn. He's a feller about twen- 
 ty-five years old, one o' them college-trained dudes 
 an' they're easy meat." 
 
 "H'is 'e 'usky?" asked Butch, with business-like 
 caution. 
 
 "Oh, he's husky enough, but husky is as husky 
 
 does, an' what them d d cream-puff scrappers 
 
 don't know about man-handlin' 'd fill a book. This 
 job's a pipe." 
 
 Certain painful memories came to the surface of 
 Butch 's brain. 
 
 "Did ye ever tackle h'a real good one, Boss?" 
 he queried. "H'l did wonst h'an' wonst was a 
 plenty fer George 'Arris, h 'Esquire. 'E wan't no 
 bloomin' pipe, that one ! 'E give me wot for put a 
 'ead h'on both 'is 'ands. Tell ye wot, Boss, h'l ain't 
 'ankerin' h 'after no more o' them kind o' varsity 
 blokes." 
 
 "Exceptions to all rules, Butch, an' I s'pose you 
 
 always was a d d fool at pickin' yer man, but what 
 
 the hell? You're not goin' ter invite the feller to a 
 pink tea stick-up, Queensberry rules ter govern, are 
 ye? Yer goin' ter git him quick an' cook him 
 right." 
 
 "Does 'e carry a gatt?" inquired Butch. 
 
 "What in h 1 d'ye expect, ye lobster? Nobody 
 
 but a d d mutt would be mixed up with them 
 crazy-headed Dagoes workin' on that railroad job, 
 without a gun! Buf ye ain't goin' ter be sucker
 
 THE FRAME-UP 67 
 
 enough ter give him a chance ter use it, are ye ? an ' 
 ye ain't goin' ter use yer own smoke-wagon, either, 
 if you've got any sense in yer bean. Get that? The 
 river's handy an' there's some swift current up 
 yonder. It's ter be a quiet job one o' them mys- 
 terious disappearances. See?" 
 
 "Sure, Mike, an' that's wot it'll be, unless me 
 bloody 'ands is wuss h'on the blink than they h'are 
 this h'evenin'," and Butch proudly contemplated his 
 enormous hairy paws. "They h'aint never missed 
 fire yet, blime me if they 'ave not never." 
 
 "No," said Hennessy, dryly, "but sometimes ye 
 put too much powder behind 'em. But ye needn't be 
 afraid o ' that this time. Put in an extry charge an ' 
 do the job up brown." 
 
 "Trust me, Boss," growled Butch, "h'I'm some 
 neat cooker h'l am. Wot d'ye want me ter do, go 
 h'up yonder an' loaf around until h'l gits me 
 chawnce h 'at the blawsted bloke ? ' ' 
 
 "Rats! You're some wise guy, I don't think!" 
 exclaimed Hennessy, disgustedly. "You'll git yer 
 damn neck stretched yet ! How long d'ye think ye'd 
 be in that little jay town before every man, woman 
 an' kid in the place 'd be on to ye an' rap ye to the 
 bulls? Every one of 'em could identify ye, if it 
 came ter a show-down. 
 
 "I've got it all doped out," Hennessy went on, 
 "an' doped out right. You can get away with it 
 dead easy, if ye don't go off half-cocked. Jack Hal- 
 loran, the foreman on the job, told me the other day 
 that some of his men had quit, an' that he could use 
 ten or twelve more. I promised ter send 'em up 
 'twas me that contracted t' furnish the whole gang 
 for that bit o' work. Nothin' ever gits, past me on 
 the little old Central. Well, I'll git a bunch together
 
 68 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 an' slip you in with 'em an' send the lot o' ye up ter 
 Halloran. See?" 
 
 "H'is this guy, 'Alloran, right?" asked Butch. 
 
 "Eight? Hell!" snorted Hennessy, "He don't 
 have to be right ; though, for the matter o ' that, he 's 
 on the square an ' won 't stand for any crooked work 
 nor any rough stuff, either. He ain't hep to me 
 in this job, an' we don't want ter wise him up nor 
 give him a diagram of it. He '11 take the men I send 
 him an' ask no questions, an' that's all we want out 
 o'him."" 
 
 "Wen d'ye want me to start, Boss?" 
 
 "Go to my North River office in the mornin ' 
 you know where it is an' apply for a job. I'll not 
 be seein' ye again, an' don't ye try ter git in touch 
 with me after the job's done, until I send for ye. 
 D'ye understand?" 
 
 "Right h'o. Want a report, Boss?" 
 
 "Not on yer life. I'll get all the dope I want out 
 o' the papers. Git back to New York as quick as 
 ye can, hunt yer hole an' lay low. You'll be safer 
 here, an' if anything goes wrong, ye '11 be where I 
 can take care of it. Here, take this f er a retainer, ' ' 
 and Hennessy handed Butch a roll of bills. "If ye 
 make good, there's another wad o' bones waitin' fer 
 ye, an' I'll see that it gits to ye, an' no questions 
 asked. An' now, me bucko, pull yer freight, an' 
 make it a quick sprint. Not afraid o' the dark, are 
 ye?" he chuckled satirically. "If ye think ye need 
 a chaperon, I'll git Bill's moll, Sally, ter show ye 
 home." 
 
 "Nothin' doin,' Boss. Needn't bother de rag," 
 grinned Butch, sheepishly, "H'l don't think h 'any- 
 body '11 stick me h'up, if me 'ands 'olds h'out any- 
 'ow without gittin' rolled."
 
 THE FRAME-UP 69 
 
 "All right then," said Hennessy brusquely. "Git 
 a move on an' good night to ye. Hold on there! 
 Go out that way." 
 
 As Butch was about to pass out of the door des- 
 ignated by the Boss, which opened directly into the 
 alley, Hennessy gave him a parting word of un- 
 questionably sound advice. 
 
 "Say, Butch, don't do any more spielin' than ye 
 can help. The bulls might trail ye by some o' them 
 dropped h'aitches an' one p' them h'aitches might 
 drop on yer foot an ' smash it. ' ' 
 
 "Don't worry, boss, h'l can talk h 'Irish like a 
 bloomin' Mick, an' not 'arf try, an' begorra," he 
 continued, in a rich Irish brogue, "Oi'll be afther 
 thryin' it on thim Dagoes." 
 
 "Good!" laughed Hennessy, "You've missed yer 
 callin'. Harry Hill '11 catch ye, if ye don't watch 
 out." 
 
 " 'Arry'll 'ave ter be smarter 'n them blarsted 
 bulls h'if 'e does," chuckled Butch, as he closed the 
 door behind him. 
 
 Hennessy lit a cigar and sat gloomily smoking for 
 a few moments and then passed out into the dark 
 alley by the same door that had given exit to Butch. 
 As he reached the street, a few rods away, he mut- 
 tered vindictively, "I reckon I've about fixed your 
 clock for ye, Mr. Bob Parkyn."
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE STRIKE 
 
 The year 1877 was a gloomy and eventful one in 
 the industrial and economic history of the United 
 States. It marked with blood and fire the record 
 of the war between capital and labor in America, 
 a struggle in which even the wisest man could not 
 form a just opinion of the proportions of right and 
 wrong in the contentions of the two parties to the 
 controversy. 
 
 With increasing numerical strength and power of* 
 labor unions, had come a more bitter resentment on 
 the part of the wage-earning proletariat against the 
 increasing aggressions of the large corporations and 
 capitalistic interests and the obvious injustices 
 heaped by them upon the working classes. 
 
 Capital had been the national bully since the coun- 
 try put aside its swaddling clothes and became a na- 
 tion among nations. The peevish and hungry child 
 whom capital had been wont to spank and starve 
 into submission had grown up labor had discov- 
 ered that it, too, had power. Labor had begun like- 
 wise to comprehend that the capitalistic tail had 
 been wagging the industrial dog the worker. Cap- 
 ital still insisted that it was the dog and not the tail 
 and proposed to continue to do the wagging. 
 
 Labor also had come to the just conclusion that it 
 was entitled to something more than the wherewith-
 
 THE STRIKE 71 
 
 al to remain on the earth the mere food and shelter 
 to which even the domestic animals are entitled. 
 
 There seemed to be at least three versions of the 
 Lord's prayer two for the rich and one for the 
 poor. 
 
 4 'Give us this day our daily bread" would have 
 been a very pretty living formula for the poor man, 
 if the Lord really had responded to his modest re- 
 quest, or even if it had not been interpreted by 
 the capitalist as "Please, Mr. Capitalist, let us work 
 for you for our daily bread, part of the time. We 
 of course should starve the rest of the time." 
 
 Labor possibly might have been more reconciled 
 to the foregoing widely different versions of the 
 Lord's prayer if the wealthy class had not formulat- 
 ed a special version for themselves, which read: 
 "Give us, 0, Lord, our daily cake, pie, champagne 
 and oysters, broiled lobsters and deviled crabs, our 
 
 frand opera, costly equipages and gay habiliments, 
 or we, 0, Lord, are thine annointed. ' ' 
 
 Human nature is just about the same on both sides 
 of any given social, economic or religious fence, 
 and labor, like capital, no sooner felt that it had ar- 
 rived at some degree of development and strength 
 than the irritability of its protest against injustice 
 increased an hundredfold. 
 
 "Capital must be taught its lesson; capital must 
 sit up and take notice ; capital must make terms with 
 labor" and so a new bully came to the fore and 
 labor began to seek for bones of contention with the 
 capitalistic bully who for so long had claimed for 
 his very own this fair land and the fulness thereof. 
 
 No rebellion is logical throughout the rebel often 
 runs amok and every industrial or capitalistic ty- 
 rant is dangerous to the peace of mind of any com-
 
 72 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 munity where there is no strong and impartial hand 
 to fairly and squarely adjust differences. 
 
 There never has been in this country any effective 
 agency to preserve harmony in our industrial and 
 capitalistic relations. The politicians who run the 
 government municipal, state or general are too 
 busy listening to the seductive blandishments of 
 capital on the one hand, and setting traps to catch 
 the votes of labor gudgeons on the other in many 
 instances in working their own little schemes of 
 graft to trouble themselves about the relative jus- 
 tice of crucial situations in the industrial world, 
 hence social turmoil, reactionary movements, strikes, 
 riots, hunger, crime and vice ever wait upon indus- 
 trial crises in this country as in every other the 
 world over, where there exists the struggle of mass 
 against class. 
 
 Possibly it is too much to expect that governments, 
 most of which are so anarchistic, stupid and cruel 
 that war still is the bogey man of all nations and 
 wholesale murder a fine art, should show intelligence 
 in industrial regulation. 
 
 Governments have billions upon billions for war. 
 The masses, noting this, one day will ask: "Why, 
 then, should there be poverty, idleness and unem- 
 ployment in the world!" And governments will be 
 at some trouble to explain ; lacking both explanation 
 and apology, they will fall, to be succeeded by a new 
 regime of greater humanity and higher intelligence. 
 
 Even in these later and better days, when it is 
 beginning to dawn upon men that neither capital 
 nor labor can stand alone, and that the brotherhood 
 of man is close to the fatherhood of God and the 
 only rational foundation for social betterment ser-
 
 THE STRIKE 73 
 
 ious troubles arise from time to time. Not yet is 
 there a strong and wise hand to separate the fight- 
 ing under and upper dogs, dispense equity in their 
 social and economic relations, and guide them into 
 the paths of peace and harmony that lead to the 
 feast of reason and of justice to the haven of hope 
 for the weary and heavy-laden, where the picket and 
 the scab shall cease from troubling and the slugger 
 shall be as a playful, milk-white lamb; where there 
 shall be work for willing hands and every hand shall 
 be willing ; where all shall be given their daily bread 
 in a living wage and each shall get his daily rest 
 and at least as much of the innocent pleasures of life 
 as does a valuable domestic animal. 
 
 The church has not greatly helped the social and 
 economic underdog neither the Lord's poor, the 
 devil's poor nor the poor devil it merely has fed 
 him theologic "soothing syrup" thus officiating 
 as the natural ally and beneficiary of the moneyed 
 class. The poor man has been cajoled, for lo ! these 
 many generations, by the promise of "mansions in 
 the skies," in which the rich man cannot share it 
 being ' ' easier for a camel to pass through the eye of 
 a needle than for the rich man to enter the Kingdom 
 of Heaven." Riches being of no value elsewhere 
 than here on earth a fact which the fellow who 
 lacks them keenly appreciates the underdog's faith 
 in a glorious hereafter has not been greatly enhanced 
 by the celestial boycott of the wealthy. 
 
 Slowly but surely has a consciousness of the fraud 
 that has been put upon them permeated the minds 
 of those whose bread must be earned by the sweat 
 of their brows. They gradually have awakened to 
 the fact that, while the laborer is conceded to be 
 "worthy of his hire," he is thrice welcome to his
 
 74 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "tire" and some people fain would limit him to 
 that. 
 
 Socialism has done something for humanity, and 
 might have done more- for every altruist is to a 
 certain degree socialistic but like every other doc- 
 trinaire, the "dyed in the wool" socialist takes him- 
 self and his creed too seriously and tries to mold 
 every human interest and thought to his own aca- 
 demic theories. A creed "in the saddle" is merely 
 despotism in a new form. 
 
 Like the religionist, the scientist, the politician 
 and the party-member in politics, the would-be soc- 
 ial reformer who allows himself to be indelibly la- 
 beled, has lost his intellectual manumission papers, 
 is the slave of his "brand" and, albeit unconscious- 
 ly, an obstructionist. 
 
 Society is a sick man, but for him there is no 
 panacea and no remedy, save a higher standard of 
 human intelligence acquired through the slow pro- 
 cess of evolution. The social doctor with a panacea 
 and the revolutionist alike are dangerous. 
 
 Poor old Russia ! Caught between a small group 
 of idealists and fanatics and a huge mass of poverty- 
 stricken, erstwhile booze-sodden, priest-ridden, ig- 
 norant, semi-barbarians, is a spectacle for gods and 
 men. Whatever of good there may be in the new 
 regime is likely to be engulfed in the blood and fire 
 incidental to the attempt of a coterie of ill-balanced 
 minds to force their theories down the throats of 
 unready millions who will remain unready until 
 evolution gradually has illumined the furthermost re- 
 cesses of their semi-barbaric minds. 
 
 No individual idealist, nor any group of idealists, 
 has brains enough to handle a practical problem so 
 huge as that of making healthy the social giant, and
 
 THE STRIKE 75 
 
 if the social quacks are not careful, they will so over- 
 dose him that his condition will become malignant 
 and fatal. Social progress, like a substantial house, 
 is slowly built up a brick at a time it can be de- 
 stroyed en masse in a moment. 
 
 There is no difference in principle, between the 
 governmental anarchists who make bloody and in- 
 human wars, and the individual anarchists who 
 throw bombs. Both are social, moral and economic 
 destructionists, who crack the thin veneer of civili- 
 zation and show that we all are barbarians under 
 the skin. 
 
 Female suffrage is destined to acomplish wonders 
 of social advancement. When woman once is thor- 
 oughly awakened she will battle for the home, for 
 the full dinner pail and for clean wholesome habi- 
 tations; for cleanliness, fresh air and wholesome 
 food for the babies ; she will fight against the booze 
 that wrecks health and morals; she will fight for 
 substitutes for the doggeries and gin-mills that once 
 were the poor man's clubs because, forsooth, he 
 had no others above all, she will fight for woman's 
 right to be guarded from the peril of disease that 
 reaches out its horrid claws and fangs from the red- 
 light district to cripple or destroy her and to blind, 
 wreck or destroy her babies. She will fight for the 
 right to guard herself her "natural protector," 
 man, has failed her. 
 
 Popular educational enlightenment through a 
 fearless, though small, fragment of the public press 
 has accomplished marvels, but not until the govern- 
 ment has discovered and taught the people that this 
 fair land of ours belongs to no class and is not for 
 exploitation by the few at the expense of the many, 
 and that proper and harmonious relations between
 
 76 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 capital and labor pay best in the end, will our coun- 
 try be free from assaults upon the equal rights of 
 citizenship, "guaranteed" by the Constitution, and 
 from social and industrial upheavals. Not till then 
 will the automobiles of the rich, whether idle or 
 voraciously industrious, cease to run by the sweat 
 of the toiling and suffering millions, exuded in hon- 
 est, albeit underpaid, toil. Not till then will the 
 strike picket,, the slugger, the walking delegate and 
 the capitalist alike cease to say: "Thou shalt not 
 work, save by my permission. ' ' 
 
 The great railroad strike that began in July, 1877, 
 was a culmination of a series of differences between 
 the labor unions and the railroads. It was one of 
 the earliest of the great struggles for human liberty 
 and simple justice in the industrial fields of this 
 country one of the first supreme tests of strength 
 between aggregated wealth and power, and labor. 
 
 Much property was destroyed and much blood was 
 shed. Many outrages were committed on both sides 
 and alas! the momentous questions at issue were 
 not even then destined to be finally settled, as wit- 
 ness the Homestead strike in 1892, and the great 
 railroad strike in 1894, which paralyzed business, 
 destroyed millions of dollars of property, cost many 
 valuable lives and caused untold suffering, and in 
 which one great democrat, Grover Cleveland, clashed 
 with another and greater democrat, John P. Altgeld, 
 both men proving themselves to be moral heroes, 
 doing their duty according to their lights and both 
 being right in the premises and under the then ex- 
 isting conditions. 
 
 Still later came the miners ' war in Colorado, and 
 the awful conditions prevailing in the mining dis-
 
 THE STRIKE 77 
 
 trict of West Virginia, where we beheld the all too 
 familiar spectacle of government aiding the capi- 
 talistic Shylock in his eager quest of the industrial 
 pound of flesh. Would that the capitalistic Shylock 
 had been content with his portion of flesh but no, 
 he demanded his oceans of blood and tears, drawn 
 from old men, weak women, babes and cripples 
 and now the worm has turned; labor has climbed 
 into the saddle and bids fair to ride to the devil. 
 
 The railroad war was spreading rapidly. The 
 tie-up was fast becoming general, and the press re- 
 ports were causing great unrest among the men em- 
 ployed on the Central at A . . ., when there came 
 the news of the clash in Pennsylvania between the 
 strikers and the militia. The crack military organi- 
 zation of a certain large city had been marooned in 
 a round-house, until it suited the humor of the strik- 
 ers to force the soldiers to capitulate and lay down 
 their arms, after which the mob had chased them 
 in ignominious flight to the very gates of their home 
 city, much as the troops who fought those other 
 rebels at Bull Eun were driven back to the national 
 capital, in utter rout and complete disgrace. 
 
 The victory over the military was the last straw 
 that broke the back of the law-and-order camel. The 
 flood gates of riot and disorder were opened and 
 the war became general all over the country. The 
 strikers, with the exhilarating smell of battle in 
 their nostrils, and flushed with temporary success, 
 grew more and more exacting and turbulent than 
 ever. 
 
 The experienced foreman, John Halloran, had 
 seen the storm coming and knew that he soon would 
 have to submit to the inevitable, and that he must
 
 78 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 maintain as friendly relations as possible between 
 the road and its humble employes on the construc- 
 tion work, if he would save life and property. He 
 feared not man or devil, but he felt that the sit- 
 uation he was about to face was one to be handled 
 by diplomacy, not by force. Fortunately the stal- 
 wart foreman was popular with the hands, which 
 made his task of keeping his men in good humor 
 much easier than it otherwise would have been. 
 
 In Bob Parkyn, Halloran found a courageous, in- 
 telligent and willing aid. The men liked and respect- 
 ed the young superintendent. They knew that he 
 was no feather-bed soldier of industry. They knew 
 also that he was fearless and able to cope with any 
 situation requiring nerve and muscle, as several 
 turbulent fellows had discovered to their cost. His 
 influence therefore was of great assistance to the 
 foreman in keeping the men satisfied and good 
 natured. 
 
 But the inevitable happened. A walking delegate 
 of the railroad laborers' union arrived one evening, 
 and when midnight came, by great industry had 
 most of the men lined up for the strike. By ten 
 o'clock next morning every man had been won or 
 frightened over, and, at a signal from the agitator, 
 dropped his tools and quit work. 
 
 ''Well, Mr. Parkyn, it's come at last," said Hal- 
 loran glumly to the young superintendent. "I wish 
 it could ha ' been staved off for a week or two longer. 
 We'd ha' been in pretty good shape to play a waitin' 
 game and let the thing simmer until the fire went 
 out as it surely will before long. The poor devils ' ' 
 he looked cautiously around to see if there was any 
 danger of being overheard "Well; they ain't en-
 
 THE STEIKE 79 
 
 tirely wrong, anyway you can figure it, but an empty 
 belly is an awful obstacle to a man's gettin' Ms 
 rights. ' ' 
 
 "Let us be thankful that the men are good-natured 
 and peaceable. It's merely a sympathetic strike 
 on the part of our felows, anyway," commented 
 Parkyn. 
 
 "They're peaceable enough so far, but wait till 
 they get hungry, ' ' returned Halloran. ' l Believe me, 
 Mr. Parkyn, if anything ever does start there's 
 goin' to be hell to pay an' no pitch hot. Every man 
 jack o' them Guineas totes a gun or stiletto an' he 
 don't carry it for any decorative purposes either. 
 They're holy terrors in a scrap, once they get start- 
 ed, an' when their blood's up, they'd shoot their 
 own brothers or sock a knife into their own grand- 
 mothers. Scrap! You just bet they can scrap, an' 
 don't you forget it! They're good-natured enough 
 when you let 'em alone an' don't get 'em mad, or 
 jealous over a woman, but if you dp they're bug- 
 house sure. They run a What is it them nig- 
 gers over in Asia does when they get crazy on some 
 kind o' hop they eat in that God-forsaken country?" 
 
 "You mean the Malays," answered Parkyn. "As 
 they say over there, when the brown-skinned beggars 
 get full of hasheesh, they run 'amok' and take a 
 stab at everybody in sight." 
 
 "That's it much obliged, Mr. Parkyn," contin- 
 ued the foreman. ''Well, as I was sayin', when them 
 foreign fellers get riled an' run amuck, there's 
 things a doin'. 'Twouldn't be so bad if they'd only 
 fight fair, once in a while, but guns and knives for 
 a steady habit is rotten work. Get into a mixup 
 with one o' them ginks, an' unless you get him quick
 
 80 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 an* get him good, it's all day with you. He'll get 
 you sure, either right then an' there, or later, when 
 you ain't lookin, an' ain't expectin' no trouble. 
 
 "An' that's not the worst," Hallo ran went on; 
 "the black-faced cusses stand together like a lot o' 
 
 them Five Points gangsters, or a parcel o' d d 
 
 Chinamen. You can't get anything out of 'em, ex- 
 cept jabber. They won't give up nothin'. State's 
 evidence don't go with them, not a bit of it. They 
 take shootin' an' stabbin' as part o' their constitu- 
 tional rights, an' as the fellers who do the stunts, 
 an' most o' the fellers that gets hurt, is all in the 
 fam'ly, they think it's nobody's business but their 
 own. As for the guy outside o' the family who gets 
 a Dago's knife or bullet into him, why what the 
 hell?" and the foreman spat disgustedly over the 
 railing of the veranda. 
 
 "It would seem, Mr. Halloran," replied Bob, "that 
 there's really nothing else to do but to sit tight and 
 jolly the men into continued good behavior. I hope 
 that walking delegate party will get away before he 
 stirs up trouble. Confound the fellow! I'd like to 
 put him on a hand-car and make him pump his own 
 way back to New York." 
 
 "So would I, Mr. Parkyn," growled the foreman, 
 morosely, "but I don't think it would be safe to 
 try it. Walkin' delegates and prophets musn't be 
 monkeyed with unless you want a row with their 
 disciples. There's another chap I'm more afraid 
 of than I am o' that walkin' delegate, an' that's 
 O'Connor, a feller who came up last week with the 
 batch o' new men." 
 
 "O'Connor? Don't believe I've noticed him. 
 What sort of looking fellow is he?" asked Parkyn. 
 
 "He's a tough-lookin' bird all right. There he
 
 THE STRIKE 81 
 
 goes now you can size him up for yourself," and 
 the scowling foreman nodded his head toward a man 
 who was just slouching past. 
 
 "So that's O'Connor, eh?" asked Parkyn. 
 
 "Yes; anyway that's what he calls himself. But 
 if he's an Irishman, I'm a Chinaman. He drops an 
 aitch every once in a while, like any cockney. His 
 brogue is a fake, I'm thinkin'. I'll bet even money 
 he's a crook." 
 
 "That's odd," mused the superintendent; "won- 
 der what he's up to?" 
 
 ' ' Nothin ' professional, I reckon. This town would 
 be pretty poor pickin ' for a New York gun. Perhaps 
 he's some feller that Hennessy sent up here for the 
 'good of the order,' as we say in lodge. He has a 
 raft o' tough mugs lookin' after his political fences. 
 Then the police may want 'Connor. The boss has 
 a lot o' friends an' hangers-on like that." 
 
 "Which may explain his being an Irish-English- 
 man, Mr. Halloran, ' ' laughed Parkyn. 
 
 "Yes, an' also his tryin' to stir up trouble. That 
 kind has to be doin' some sort o' dirty work to keep 
 well, an' if I'm next to him, an' I'll bet I am, time 
 must be hangin ' pretty heavy on his hands up here. 
 Honest labor's mighty tryin' to his kind." 
 
 The man alluded to just then turned squarely to- 
 ward the two so that they got a full view of him. 
 
 "Holy smoke !" exclaimed Halloran, "look at them 
 hands and shoulders an' that lovely mug! His 
 face looks like a map o' the Five Points!" 
 
 The man noticed that he was under observation 
 and nonchalantly putting his hands in his pockets, 
 lazily slouched away, whistling a popular air, and 
 was lost in the crowd of workmen gathered on the 
 river bank.
 
 82 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Butch had carried out the boss's instructions to 
 the letter. He had landed at A ... smoothly 
 enough and was put to work with the rest of the 
 gang. His liking for his prospective job of strong- 
 arm work, which was not any too ardent at the start, 
 was not increased by the ride up river on the work- 
 train of the Central with a lot of jabbering ''Guin- 
 eas" whose language was unintelligible to him. Al- 
 though usually about as timid and vacillating as a 
 bulldog, when on a job from which his low cunning 
 could eliminate all danger to himself, Butch did not 
 set about his present mission with any degree of as- 
 surance. His recent narrow escape from doing a 
 stretch for the Jersey City job had temporarily 
 shaken him up pretty badly. He never did take phil- 
 osophically the accidents and vicissitudes of his pro- 
 fession. 
 
 By the time the thug arrived in A ... his 
 feet were as cold as those of an amateur preparing to 
 "stick up" his first "boob." They did not grow 
 warmer as time passed without an opportunity to 
 carry out his designs upon the young superintend- 
 ent. 
 
 Honest physical labor is very depressing to men 
 of the Harris type. Their fibre, while apparently 
 strong, is not adapted to the continued effort, and 
 novelty of muscular exertion is very fatiguing. Al- 
 though he soldiered on the job, Butch felt that he 
 was undergoing a punishment like unto work on the 
 rock pile at "the island." This did not add to the 
 strength of the thug's resolution to fulfill his con- 
 tract with Bull Hennessy, nor to his respect for 
 boobs who work for their daily bread. 
 
 Another factor in undermining his resolution, now 
 so "sicklied o'er with the pale cast of thought," was
 
 THE STRIKE 83 
 
 his inborn streak of "yellow." Men like Butch Har- 
 ris always are rank dung-hills at bottom. 
 
 Under some conditions the sons of Ishmael are 
 like children in the dark, afraid of their shadows. 
 The sense of being hunted and belonging to the un- 
 popular and hated minority in a world that resents 
 his getting a living by his wits a living which he 
 justly believes is coming to him without his giving 
 in return the conventional quid pro quo of social 
 and individual service finally gets on the nerves 
 of the boldest criminal. 
 
 Then, too, Butch Harris was lonesome ; and who is 
 not depressed by loneliness? Among the people 
 about him there was not one kindred spirit, and men 
 of his type need the stimulus of companionship of 
 their own evil kind. They need the crowd-courage 
 of association with brothers of their own profession 
 in its various branches. Even the soldier, marching 
 into action, gets inspiration and courage from the 
 touch of his comrades ' elbows. That is why the av- 
 erage man is a hero on the battle field and nowhere 
 else. 
 
 The predatory animal, however fierce, who is at- 
 tacked by an enemy, is thrice armed when he knows 
 that his own lair is near, for there lies safety, if 
 he can but reach it. The sneaking fox is boldest 
 near his burrow. The criminal also likes to keep 
 close to his base. 
 
 The large city is the crook's choice of base, for 
 there he has many lairs, many burrows, and dens 
 Where only a thief can catch a thief and where com- 
 rades stand together, because they must. Ages and 
 ages ago, criminals well learned the lesson that 
 "those who have" are opposed, not only to the in- 
 dividual criminal, but to all criminals. Even in the
 
 84 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 childhood of this time-worn world, the Children of 
 Ishmael instinctively banded together in an offensive 
 and defensive alliance against law-abiding folk that 
 will last till the human race itself is no more. 
 
 Another lesson which is taught the criminal early 
 in his professional career is the old one that "dead 
 men tell no tales. ' ' Honest people are not the only 
 ones who mysteriously disappear forever, or are 
 found in the river or in dark corners of our large 
 cities, dead of causes and persons "unknown." In 
 the underworld there also is the apparently im- 
 promptu brawl and the shot or the stab with a 
 clean "get-away" for the murderer of his fellow 
 crook. The wages of "snitching" is death, and 
 there are as many ways, of disposing of informers 
 in crookdom as there are of skinning the traditional 
 cat. 
 
 The new and strange environment in which Butch 
 Harris found himself was disturbing in another re- 
 spect. In New York there was the atmosphere of 
 official protection and tolerance that is so essential 
 to crime, politics, and a well-regulated and prosper- 
 ous police system, which was lacking in A ... 
 
 Butch knew that in the matter of criticism of bad 
 behavior, "rubes," as his class termed citizens of 
 small towns, often were men of quick-working per- 
 spicacity who were wont to go straight to the mark. 
 This directness and lack of intelligent appreciation 
 of opportunities for graft sometimes pervaded the 
 entire legal system in rural districts, affecting con- 
 stables, judges and prosecuting attorneys alike. He 
 of course over-rated the social purity and square- 
 dealing spirit of rural communities, and Boss Hen- 
 nessy had not deemed it prudent to "put him wise." 
 
 The nearness of A ... to Sing Sing possibly
 
 THE STRIKE 85 
 
 had something to do with disturbing the morale of 
 Mr. Harris. The gentleman with the many aliases 
 had noted that the prison was frightfully near, and 
 it was so suggestive, not only of long "stretches," 
 but also of short ones with the artistic slip-knot 
 under a gentleman's left ear! 
 
 Butch found himself reconciled to the lack of op- 
 portunity to "cook" young Parkyn. He even had 
 begun to frame up excuses for a complete failure, 
 wondering the while how he ever could explain his 
 "fluke" to Boss Hennessy's satisfaction, when luck 
 smiled on him once more. The strike came and 
 gave him an opportunity to mature a plan that had 
 been slowly crystallizing in his mind for some days, 
 and in furtherance of which he had been doing his 
 best to create dissatisfaction and excite animosities 
 among his soi disant fellow workmen. 
 
 Recalling numerous brawls in lower New York, 
 into which marked men had been drawn and out of 
 which they emerged, feet first, on a stretcher 
 en route to the morgue, Butch decided fo change the 
 program mapped out by Hennessy. In coming to 
 this decision he felt confident that, if he succeeded 
 in getting his man, the Boss would be so well satis- 
 fied with results that he would not question the 
 method employed which method was a popular and 
 effective one in Mr. Hennessy's own bailiwick and oc- 
 casionally had been of great service to that astute 
 person himself. 
 
 The more he thought about it the more attractive 
 to the crook seemed the plan by which he hoped to 
 get somebody else to pull his chestnuts out of the 
 fire. The prospect which the plan offered of a clean 
 get-away without the least risk of being caught 
 "with the dead sheep over his shoulder," was par-
 
 86 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ticularly attractive, even fascinating to Butch, and 
 moreover, it was so clever in conception, so artistic 
 in method and bade fair to be so satisfactory in 
 results that it appealed to his professional pride. 
 Above all and this loomed large on the Strang- 
 ler's mental horizon it was so safe, if he only 
 could "pull it h'off without a 'itch."
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 TROUBLE BEGINS BREWING 
 
 For several days after the strike was called at 
 A ... an atmosphere of peace and quiet per- 
 vaded the village. It was as if the proverbial col- 
 orless Sunday of the little old-fashioned burg had 
 been continued into the week. 
 
 The majestic Hudson still flowed placidly on its way 
 to the sea, the foliage on the mountains was as vivid- 
 ly green as of yore and the same blue summer haze, 
 above which floated foam-white clouds, hung lazily 
 about the mountain tops as of old. 
 
 The birds sang in the trees as blithely as ever, 
 and the tall, many-colored, democratic hollyhocks 
 in the little front yards of the cottages fringing the 
 river road, sleepily nodded their hearty approval 
 of the summer of their sweet content. 
 
 Nature concerns not herself with the affairs of 
 mankind. His hopes, fears, joys, sorrows, and his 
 economic and other social disturbances are naught 
 to her. If her foolish children cannot agree as to 
 what constitutes a living wage, she does not worry. 
 She gave him a heart to feel for his fellow-man and 
 a brain to govern that heart, and if he chooses to 
 harden the one and obliquely reason with the other, 
 what cares she? 
 
 If man elects to deny his lowly brother the where- 
 withal to feed the hungry mouths of his woman and
 
 88 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 children and protect them and himself from "the 
 slings and arrows of outrageous fortune," Nature 
 smiles or frowns, as the mood pleases her, unmind- 
 ful of the oppressions and sorrows of her human 
 creatures. 
 
 If the under-dog in the battle of life chooses to com- 
 bat the upper-dog by adding to his own woes, whilst 
 trying to get a fighting chance to lessen those woes, 
 Nature is content to be a disinterested bystander, 
 attending strictly to her own affairs. 
 
 Long, long before Puck, the philosopher, wise 
 creature of Shakespeare's brain or was it Ba- 
 con's? Mother Nature watched the passing human 
 show and cried, "What fools these mortals be!" 
 
 "Fools?" Aye, what helpless fools the sun and 
 moon and stars of heaven have shone upon since the 
 natal day of this worn old world ! 
 
 What fools have caressed or been caressed, killed 
 or been killed ! 
 
 What fools have rains beaten upon, fires consumed 
 and waters drowned ! 
 
 What fools have trodden upon the necks of other 
 fools, who have turned like the traditional worm and 
 bitten the heel that would destroy them! 
 
 What fools have said, "I am not my brother's 
 keeper" and what other fools have cried, "Thou 
 art thy brother's keeper and he will strike and show 
 thee!" 
 
 Nature was as indifferent to the troubles of the 
 sons of toil at A . . ., of the corporation most 
 concerned and of the public the ultimate victim of 
 every economic and social disturbance as she ever 
 has been to humanity's woes from the beginning. 
 
 Strike? What knows she of strikes and what 
 cares she?
 
 TEOUBLE BEGINS BREWING 89 
 
 Wages? What are wages to her? She pays no 
 wages save those of sin, and they nourish and clothe 
 neither women nor babes, but take the bread from 
 out their mouths. 
 
 The people of the village had returned to their 
 usual lethargy and their interest in strikes and 
 strikers had fallen to zero. Figuratively, when the 
 strike first was called they "sat up and looked 
 around" with languid interrogation, but as soon as 
 it seemed evident that there was nothing exciting 
 in the wind, they completely lost interest and lapsed 
 into their ordinary placid satisfaction with the world 
 and everything in it. 
 
 Even the mongrel dogs of the streets were lazier 
 than was their habit. They knew nothing of eco- 
 nomic disturbances and cared less, and the strikers 
 interested them not at all. The bones that the labor- 
 ers had thrown to them like the bones which capital 
 had thrown to the men themselves had been so 
 cleanly picked that the railroad hands had not fav- 
 orably impressed the town dogs, hence there had 
 been no bond of sympathy between them and the 
 workmen. If the canines thought about the matter 
 at all, the strike probably did not appeal to them 
 as affecting their own selfish interests an attitude 
 which would have been nearly human. 
 
 For a time the strikers in general were as peace- 
 ful and orderly as the most exacting, law-abiding 
 citizen could have wished. Some of the more un- 
 stable of the motley elements comprising the rail- 
 road gang were, it is true, a bit fiery in their remarks 
 and gesticulations whenever the men gathered in 
 little knots to discuss the situation. This was not 
 remarkable, however, in an aggregation of men in
 
 90 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the veins of most of whom ran the warm and tem- 
 peramentally excitable blood of the Latin or of the 
 Slavonic races. 
 
 John Halloran aptly, if facetiously, expressed the 
 situation to Superintendent Parkyn in this wise : 
 
 "Some o' them fellers, especially the Guineas, 
 couldn 't talk at all if their hands was tied, anyhow, 
 without usin' every muscle in their bodies ; no more'n 
 a Chatham street Jew could show a suit of clothes 
 to a customer without workin' his mouth an' every- 
 thing else that's movable at the same time unless 
 you chloroformed him. One time I saw a feller grab 
 one o' them Jews, who was tryin' to sell a coat to 
 him, by his mitt, an' the Jew was struck dumb as an 
 oyster. He didn't round up again until the feller 
 let go, so that Ikey could get in his hand- work again. ' ' 
 
 "Perhaps you are right," rejoined Parkyn, 
 thoughtfully, "but I'm beginning to be a trifle wor- 
 ried, just the same. Time will be hanging pretty 
 heavily on their hands before this strike is over, 
 and those lads are likely to get to drinking too much. 
 I've seen a number of them today who were a bit 
 soused. Idleness, as the old proverb says, is the 
 Mother of Mischief, and when she's married to a 
 grievance and most of those fellows think, more 
 or less justly, that they have a fine assortment of 
 grievances a dangerous brood of emphatic pro- 
 tests is likely to result. A few ugly strikers form a 
 fine nucleus for an uncontrollable mob. 
 
 "There's another thing that bothers me," con- 
 tinued Parkyn. "Have you noticed O'Connor's ac- 
 tions?" 
 
 ' ' 'Connor f ' ' queried Halloran. D 'ye mean that 
 fake Irishman that I said drops his aitches ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, that's the man."
 
 TEOUBLE BEGINS BEEWING 91 
 
 11 What's he been doinT' asked the foreman, with 
 a hostile glint in his eye. 
 
 "Well, I wouldn't like to swear that he actually 
 has done anything, yet," replied Parkyn, "but, un- 
 less I'm greatly mistaken, he's trying to foment 
 trouble among the men. Then, too, he's standing 
 treat a little oftener than looks natural for an ordi- 
 nary laborer. He seems to be spending more money 
 than a hard-working Irish railroad hand reasonably 
 should have in his possession." 
 
 "So?" answered Halloran interestedly, "I won- 
 der if by any chance he 's a union agent, working on 
 the quiet." 
 
 "Possibly, Mr. Halloran, but, whatever he is, he's 
 acting very suspiciously. There he is now, making 
 a speech to that group of men on the pier. I may be 
 wrong, but I don't think he's either preaching to 
 them, or the other extreme, discussing politics." 
 
 For a moment Halloran surveyed the group and 
 the man indicated; and then said slowly: 
 
 "He don't seem to be holdin' a Salvation Army 
 meetin ', that 's a fact. Beckon I 'd better be strollin ' 
 down there an' get into the game. I might hear 
 somethin' interestin' about myself, like as not," 
 and the foreman laughed as he started toward the 
 pier. 
 
 " Be careful, Halloran, don't apply the match to 
 the fuse," warned Parkyn. "If that fellow's up 
 to mischief, he 'd like nothing better than to have you 
 give him a grievance." 
 
 "Never fear, Mr. Parkyn, I'll not be startin' 
 anythin.' That fake Irishman 'd better not start 
 anythin' either. If he does, I'll finish it by changin' 
 his map for him. I don't like him any too well, 
 anyhow, an' I wouldn't mind handin' him a wallop
 
 92 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 an' turnin' his block t'other way round. See you 
 later at the hotel." 
 
 Resolved to put in his own oar if trouble really 
 started, Parkyn watched the foreman narrowly as 
 the latter strolled leisurely down to the pier 
 and engaged 'Connor in conversation. He plainly 
 saw, from the actions of the two that Halloran was 
 having some difficulty in controlling his temper. He 
 noted also that the men in the group looked on sul- 
 lenly, some of them scowling with evident hostility 
 at the foreman. 
 
 Halloran concluded his errand and repaired to 
 the hotel veranda, where he was joined by the young 
 engineer. 
 
 "It's dollars to doughnuts that you're right, Mr. 
 Parkyn," said the foreman, "that fellow is a trou- 
 ble-maker sure, an' he's been gettin' in his fine work. 
 I had troubles of me own, keepin' me hands tied be- 
 hind me back whilst I was talkin' to him. I could 
 ha' had a scrap with the blackguard without half 
 tryin' if I had defended the corporations an' th' 
 aristocracy, which he was layin' out for the benefit 
 of them Guineas. They probably couldn't tell what 
 he was drivin' at, but they're ready to cry 'down' 
 with anything and everybody that anybody sicks 'em 
 onto, ' ' and he chuckled at the humor of the thing. 
 
 "He's a tough mug, if I know the signs," con- 
 tinued Halloran, "an' he looks as if he could go some 
 himself. The men he's talkin' to are pretty sour, 
 an' some o' those wops have got quite a package 
 aboard, this very minute. We're in for trouble be- 
 fore we get through, sure as shootin'." 
 
 "Let us hope that we're both wrong, Halloran," 
 replied Parkyn, "but we'd better keep wide awake
 
 TEOUBLE BEGINS BEEWING 93 
 
 and on the job right along. It won't do to be caught 
 napping. ' ' 
 
 " Eight you are, Mr. Parkyn. An' be the same 
 token, I'm mighty glad Maggie ain't here just now." 
 
 "So am I," coincided Parkyn, soberly. "This 
 town will be no place for young ladies, if those fel- 
 lows once start after trouble. 
 
 "By the way, Halloran," he went on, earnestly, 
 "I wonder if we could induce the powers that be in 
 this little burg, to close that groggery of Han- 
 ton's until the strike is over." 
 
 The young engineer had no wide range of exper- 
 ience behind him, but he had seen enough of the 
 world to know that when time hangs heavily on the 
 hands of men who have no intellectual resources, 
 they take to liquor as naturally as a duck does to 
 water. 
 
 "Close Hanton's doggery!" exclaimed Halloran, 
 "why, you might as well try to close up Wall Street. 
 Everybody knows it's a nest o' swindlers an' bunk 
 artists, but if anybody ever tries to close it, he'll 
 have the time of his life. New York likes the ex- 
 citement o' speculatin' an' it helps circulate the 
 money. Besides, there's politics behind it. Same 
 here in this little old one-horse place. ' ' 
 
 The foreman laughed satirically. 
 
 "I dare say," he continued, "that if the truth 
 was known, Hanton's landlord is a deacon in the 
 church. Anyhow, that dump is political headquar- 
 ters for this neck o' the woods. Shut up Hanton's 
 joint? Forget it, my friend forget it! We'll get 
 plumb up against it, if we try to hand out any o' 
 that blue-nose dope here." 
 
 "All the same, I propose to try it," replied Par-
 
 94 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 kyn, determinedly. "I'm going to call on the au- 
 thorities this afternoon, and then, if I get no satis- 
 faction, I'll visit Brother Hanton himself, and see 
 if I can do a little missionary work with him. ' ' 
 
 "Blaze away, me friend I like yer nerve," re- 
 joined Halloran, cynically, "but it'll get you nothin' 
 from the authorities but a frost, an' nothin' from 
 Hanton, unless it's a laugh or p'raps worse, for 
 he's some grouch, take it from me, an' has a temper 
 cut on th' bias out o' the brittlest piece o' thin green 
 glass you ever saw splintered. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Parkyn," he asked, "do you 
 by any chance happen to have a gun on ye I " 
 
 "No," replied the young man, in astonishment, "I 
 never thought of such a thing! I always have felt 
 perfectly able to take care of myself without wea- 
 pons." 
 
 "I thought as much," said Halloran grimly, 
 "Come up to me room an' I'll fit ye out right. If 
 anything is started among them fellers yonder," 
 he pointed to another and larger group of the men 
 who had gathered about O'Connor, and his face 
 grew stern; "it won't be any foot-ball game, an' 
 you'll find that somethin' more than a good job o' 
 manhandling '11 be needed; even if we had enough 
 help to risk puttin' it over which the Lord knows 
 we hain't." 
 
 The foreman led the way to his room where he 
 procured a revolver, which, after some persuasion, 
 he induced Parkyn to accept. 
 
 "There," he said proudly, "that's more like it. 
 That baby hain't got a bore like the Hoosac tunnel, 
 but it's big enough. If weight o' artillery don't 
 count, an' you can shoot straight, you're heeled fit 
 for the Five Points."
 
 TEOUBLE BEGINS BREWING 95 
 
 "I can shoot with the best of them," the young 
 man quietly assured him, putting the gun into the 
 outside pocket of his coat, "but I hope to the Lord 
 there'll be no occasion to make good. By the way, 
 Halloran, how many men can you really depend on 
 in case of trouble?" 
 
 Halloran 's jaws clamped together like those of 
 a steel trap. 
 
 "Just two, if I can read the signs right Mr. Rob- 
 ert Parkyn and one Jack Halloran," he returned, 
 significantly. 
 
 "Is it really that serious?" 
 
 Halloran eyed Parkyn keenly. 
 
 "Yes; but if you feel " 
 
 "Afraid?" interjected Parkyn, steadily. "No, I'm 
 not afraid. I was merely thinking what a mess my 
 first important assignment is likely to be, and well, 
 I was thinking how awful it would be if anyone 
 should get seriously hurt." 
 
 "Sure; it would be awful," retorted Halloran, 
 doggedly, "but just make up your mind to go 
 through and go through with a whole skin, even if 
 you have to hurt some o' them blackguards on the 
 way," and with lowering brows the foreman shot 
 a look in O'Connor's direction that boded ill for the 
 fellow if he chanced to run against Halloran and did 
 not exercise his own peculiar talents first and "beat 
 him to it." 
 
 Parkyn called on the mayor that afternoon, and 
 as Halloran had intimated that he would, received 
 cold comfort from that pompous, bewhiskered offic- 
 ial, who took full advantage of his opportunity to 
 impress upon "one o' them New Yorkers" the im- 
 portance and dignity of his own position of grand 
 mogul of the village. He took special pains to assure
 
 96 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 his visitor that he was the "whole works" of that 
 immediate vicinity ; that he most emphatically knew 
 his business and did not propose to permit any tran- 
 sient visitor to give him post-graduate instruction 
 therein. As to the preservation of law and order, 
 he sarcastically submitted that he never had been 
 compelled to ask any outsider for assistance in the 
 performance of his official duties, and thought he 
 would be able to struggle along without it for a while 
 longer. 
 
 The most telling point made by the mayor, in his 
 own estimation, was that Mr. Hanton was a taxpay- 
 er, a law-abiding citizen, and kept a highly prosper- 
 ous and respectable establishment which was of 
 great commercial and social value to the village. 
 By no means could he offend him and his large, re- 
 putable, orderly, respectable, intelligent and influ- 
 ential clientele by even so much as hinting to the 
 aforesaid prominent citizen that closing his " buffet" 
 would in the slightest degree be desirable. 
 
 While not fully, much less cordially, appreciating 
 all the points made by the chief executive of the 
 town, Parkyn grasped the main features of the sit- 
 uation, to wit: First, that the officials and citizens 
 of small dots on the map were not unlike those of 
 larger and more important places. They needed the 
 money and knew a good thing when they saw it: 
 Second, and more important, that for aught he him- 
 self had accomplished by his visit to the town hall, 
 the joint in question was likely to run wide open 
 until the frost touched the pumpkins in Hades. 
 
 The reception given the young engineer by the 
 eminent Mr. Hanton and his bottle-tosser, a trucu- 
 lent, boiled-lobster-hued, beefy-fisted individual who,
 
 TROUBLE BEGINS BREWING 97 
 
 naturally enough, was named Mike more familiar- 
 ly known as "Big Mike" was as warm as the 
 mayor's reception was cold. 
 
 Having introduced himself, Parkyn briefly made 
 known his business. The atmosphere immediately 
 became, as the cow-men of the great West would 
 express it, "some hostyle." 
 
 On learning his visitor's mission, Hanton very 
 nearly had an apoplectic fit. His rubicund face be- 
 came purple ; he glared for a moment in speechless 
 wrath at the young man and then, after a prelimin- 
 ary sputter that sounded like a huge tom-cat spitting 
 defiance at a rival on the back fence, cut loose with 
 a stream of profanity that excelled anything Parkyn 
 ever had heard. 
 
 Despite his unfamiliarity with some of the gen- 
 tleman's phrases originality of language was the 
 saloon-keeper's strong point the young man had no 
 difficulty in comprehending that Mr. Hanton was 
 distinctly peeved by the unwarranted attempt to in- 
 terfere with a decent and law-abiding citizen's laud- 
 able endeavor to get an honest living for himself 
 and family. 
 
 How far Hanton might have carried his protest 
 is a matter of conjecture. He appeared to be doub- 
 ling his formidable fists and gathering himself to- 
 gether for a spring over the bar at the intruder 
 upon the peace and quiet of his place of business, 
 when the redoubtable Mike, brandishing a bung- 
 starter he had picked up as a measure of prepara- 
 tion for any emergency that might arise, relieved 
 the tension of the situation. 
 
 "Fade away, young feller! Fade away! an' 
 don't let us keep ye!" he bawled ferociously. "We
 
 98 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 can ran this joint without any o' your help. Seel 
 Chase yourself, Mr. Buttinsky, before ye finds yer- 
 self standin' on yer bloody nut I" 
 
 As a number of the guests seemed to coincide with 
 Mike 's war-like ideas and were militantly gathering 
 about the "buttinsky" and glaring at him in by no 
 means reassuring fashion, Parkyn discreetly fol- 
 lowed "Professor" Mike's directions, backing out 
 of the place with what dignity he could muster under 
 the rather disturbing conditions. 
 
 When Parkyn reported to Halloran at the hotel 
 the failure of his mission and the character of his 
 reception, that matter-of-fact person laughed up- 
 roariously, saying, after the manner of all wise 
 prophets, "I told ye so." 
 
 Thinking that the young man might take offense 
 at his levity, Halloran said, apologetically : 
 
 " Don't get sore at me, Mr. Parkyn. I was laugh- 
 in' like the dog that ate the paprika, on the other 
 side of me face." His eyes snapped threateningly 
 as he continued, "I'd give a week's pay if I ever 
 get any again t' walk up ter Hanton's place with 
 half a dozen huskies that would stand without hitch- 
 in', an' tear the livin' guts out o' that infernal 
 dump. But there's times when a feller's got to 
 stand the gaff without kickin' back, an' this is one 
 of 'em. If anything 's started we musn't do it, an' 
 besides, "he chuckled, "we ain't got the huskies." 
 
 "You are absolutely right* Halloran," replied 
 Parkyn, gravely, "the medicine that both the mayor 
 and Hanton handed me wasn't pleasant to take, but 
 I guess it was coming to me. Besides, it was a lesson 
 in self-control that was worth all it cost." 
 
 "Npthin' to it, sir. I've had to eat me share o' 
 crow in me day. I never did get used to it, an' I've
 
 TROUBLE BEGINS BREWING 99 
 
 always laid for the chance to make the feller that 
 handed me the bird eat a turkey buzzard before I got 
 through with him. But practice makes perfect, an' 
 now I can swallow an old gray parrot, if I have to, 
 ter say nothin' of a nice black crow, an' make believe 
 it's quail. Yes, that self-control business is great 
 stuff when there's more o' them than there is o' 
 you." 
 
 "You're a philosopher, Halloran," laughed Par- 
 kyn; "you're teaching me something every minute." 
 
 "Thank you, sir. That's some compliment. Come 
 up to my room and let's have a smoke." 
 
 "At your service, Halloran," said the superin- 
 tendent, cheerily; "let us both be philosophers and 
 enjoy the philosopher's consolation tobacco." 
 
 The two men repaired to Halloran 's quarters and 
 over their pipes forgot for the time being their 
 cares and responsibilities. 
 
 "Whenever I try to smoke out my troubles," said 
 Parkyn, "I am reminded of a bit of verse written 
 by one of my old professors : 
 
 " 'Under tobacco's wonderful spell 
 Trouble flies and the world goes well 
 Visions of hope flit through the brain 
 And all is joy and peace again. 
 Under tobacco's wonderful spell 
 Happiness comes and all goes well 
 This old world's filled with angels fair, 
 Back to hell flies the demon, Care ! ' ' 
 
 "Pretty wise old chap, wasn't he, Halloran?" 
 "That old feller sure ^ knew a lot, Mr. Parkyn," 
 agreed the foreman, meditatively, wreathing himself 
 in a huge cloud of smoke, "but I'm afraid that be- 
 fore we get through it'll take a few pipes o* hop,
 
 100 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 or a big dose of chloroform to make us forget our 
 troubles. The angels fair that he talks about, are 
 goin' to be up against the real thing, sure as my 
 name's Jack Halloran." 
 
 "And there's one chap to whom you'd like to give 
 about a quart of chloroform as a preventive of trou- 
 ble, eh?" laughed the young man. 
 
 "If you mean that feller 'Connor, " retorted Hal- 
 loran, savagely, "you've hit the spike plumb on the 
 head, an' driven her clean through the tie. Quart, 
 eh?" he blustered, "I'd like to give that son-of-a-gun 
 a barrel of the knock-out elope," and the sturdy 
 foreman, gripping his powerful fingers in a grimly 
 suggestive and business-like way, glared fiercely out 
 of the window at the shack that sheltered the men. 
 
 "Why, you primitive savage!" exclaimed Parkyn 
 in mock horror; "you wouldn't kill him, would 
 you?" 
 
 "You heard what I said," retorted the foreman, 
 resolutely setting his jaw, "I reckon you know as 
 much as I do about the safe dose of the sweet-smell- 
 er. P'raps a quart is some strong, but I'm willin' 
 to compromise with ye. Let's make it a pint." 
 
 "Halloran," smiled Parkyn, "I'm afraid you're 
 a bad Indian." 
 
 "I don't quite get you," replied Halloran, quiet- 
 ly, "but if you mean that I've got it in for O'Connor, 
 you've said somethin', believe me."
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 TROUBLE MAKER AND PEACE MAKER 
 
 Butch Harris had concocted no very definite plan 
 as to how he would accomplish his purpose of "get- 
 ting" Bob Parkyn. He felt, however, that he could 
 trust to luck and his own ingenuity for both means 
 and opportunity. Under cover of the excitement 
 and noise of a riot among the men, plenty of chances 
 were likely to present themselves. Then, too, he 
 reflected, the fates might be kind enough to take 
 the really serious part of the job off his hands. 
 
 Should a violent demonstration occur among the 
 workmen, it required little perspicacity to see that 
 under such conditions many things might happen 
 to a man of Parkyn *s official position, physical stam- 
 ina and undoubted moral and physical courage. 
 
 If some "crazy Dago" happened to pull a gun 
 or knife on the young man, and should chance to 
 "cook" him, Butch 's problem would be solved with- 
 out risk to himself, and Hennessy would be even 
 better pleased than if the original and more hazard- 
 ous plan had been carried out. 
 
 During the days immediately following the strike, 
 Harris, alias O'Connor, as Parkyn had surmised, 
 had done his best to excite unrest and dissatisfac- 
 tion among the men. This was no easy matter at first, 
 for the men in general had no special grievances 
 against those who had been directing their labors
 
 102 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 and who really had been rather popular with them. 
 
 By subtle innuendo and suggestion, however, in 
 which he was aided by the outspoken denunciation 
 and threats of a few malcontents who had been just- 
 ly disciplined by either Parkyn or Halloran, the 
 thug succeeded in stirring up some little feeling and 
 resentment of imaginary wrongs, especially toward 
 Parkyn, whom Butch at first vaguely, and finally 
 with definiteness, asserted to be an aristocrat of 
 the most offensive type. 
 
 Halloran was depicted to the malcontents as mere- 
 ly a creature of the young engineer's who would be 
 very decent if he were not under the latter gentle- 
 man's malign and corrupting influence. 
 
 Further and this point was driven well home by 
 Butch the men were assured that, from the Atlantic 
 to the Pacific, the entire strike with all its attendant 
 evils had been fostered by just such men as Parkyn, 
 for the malevolent purpose of self-aggrandizement 
 by giving themselves the opportunity to curry favor 
 with the capitalists the natural foes of every honest 
 workman. He also hinted to the men that, as the 
 young engineer was an ambitious company official, 
 they could guess the rest. 
 
 By keeping under the influence of liquor, those 
 who seemed to be apt scholars in the lessons of re- 
 bellion which he was inculcating, the crook finally 
 instilled considerable gall and wormwood into the 
 minds of a small proportion of the men a propor- 
 tion which, however, was large enough for his sin- 
 ister purpose, if trouble once began. These men be- 
 came restless, dissatisfied and ripe for revolt. The 
 more truculent of them not only became turbulent, 
 but quarreled among themselves for want of other 
 outlet for their animosities.
 
 TEOUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 103 
 
 As the men's money began to give out and the 
 unions manifested no great eagerness to supply the 
 funds necessary for their relief, Butch 's task grew 
 easier. He spent money lavishly for liquor and day 
 by day wormed himself deeper into the confidence 
 of the strikers. 
 
 The time soon arrived when Butch felt that his 
 plans must be immediately consummated. There 
 were several men who, under proper conditions, he 
 believed could be relied upon to attend to his little 
 business with Parkyn. It was not so easy, however, to 
 make a deal with one of them which was not fraught 
 with danger to himself. 
 
 The thug was in rather deep water, but doing his 
 unsuccessful best to see his way clear, when chance 
 fairly threw the intended victim into his hands. The 
 old saying, "a fool for luck" should be amended to 
 read "a fool or a rascal for luck," so as to cover 
 from either angle the case of such men as Butch. 
 
 On the evening of the day Bob Parkyn visited 
 the mayor and Hanton, the keeper of the groggery, 
 about twenty of the workmen were gathered in one 
 of the hurriedly-built shacks used by the construc- 
 tion gang as bunk-houses. Several of these men were 
 of the contingent that had fallen under Butch Har- 
 ris' evil influence. 
 
 In the corner of the bunk-house, at a rough 
 table made of packing boxes, sat four Italians, play- 
 ing cards and getting such excitement as they could 
 out of the small amount of money they had left. So 
 small was this pittance that the stakes in front of 
 them were pathetic in their meagerness. The piti- 
 ful story the money told was plain enough even to 
 the unimaginative mind.
 
 104 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Like a thunderbolt out of a smiling summer sky, 
 came trouble trouble serious enough to satisfy the 
 most ardent lover of the battle game delivering his 
 victim into Butch 's hands in a manner most favor- 
 able to the execution of his designs and the conceal- 
 ment of any fine work which he might perform in 
 furtherance of those designs, and so suddenly that 
 the thug was taken almost unprepared. 
 
 Whether crooked work by the gamblers actually 
 was going on never will be known. One of the play- 
 ers, however, accused another of cheating. There 
 was no argument, the insult was too deadly and had 
 to be wiped out instanter. Such was the primitive 
 code of those humble Italian laborers, who held life 
 cheap and honor high a reversionary type of tem- 
 perament which made them worthy of more ancient 
 days in their own land of sunshine, flowers and dark, 
 desperate deeds. 
 
 The man accused of cheating pulled a knife, and 
 missing his insulter's chest, drove the blade deep 
 into his shoulder, inflicting a severe wound. The 
 wounded man fell to the floor, his assailant falling 
 squarely on top of him. The man beneath was a 
 powerful fellow and succeeded in getting his arms 
 around his adversary, he hugged him so tightly that 
 the man above could not release his arm to with- 
 draw the stiletto and repeat the blow. Thus locked 
 in a deadly embrace the men lay panting on the floor 
 like two fierce animals of the jungle in the death 
 grapple. 
 
 The other two card players, apparently dazed by 
 the suddenness of the quarrel, stood for a mon-ent, 
 stupidly gazing at each other across the overturned 
 pile of boxes into which the gaming-table had sad-
 
 TBOUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 105 
 
 denly disintegrated. Recovering themselves with 
 equal suddenness, they furiously sprang at each 
 other's throats. So much in haste were they to an- 
 nihilate each other, that neither had the forethought 
 to draw a weapon, although both were armed. 
 
 The new combatants also went to the floor togeth- 
 er like a pair of ferocious wild cats, turned over and 
 over in the struggle for supremacy and finally rolled 
 out of the door of the bunk-house into the road, 
 where they continued to maul and tear each other 
 to their heart's content. 
 
 The plunging of the second pair of battlers into 
 the fray was as if a signal had been pre-arranged. 
 The Italians are much like the Scotch in their clan- 
 nishness, and just as a McDougall stands by a Mc- 
 Dougall, so does the Italian stand by a compatriot 
 from his own district. Should the compatriot be a 
 blood relation, even in the 'steenth degree, no Ken- 
 tucky feudist ever excelled the Italian's eagerness 
 to enter a fight to vindicate a thin-skinned honor 
 backed by the blood that is thicker than water and 
 hotter than the fire-boxes of hell. 
 
 In less time than has been consumed in describing 
 the affair, the entire room-full of dark-skinned, fev- 
 erish-blooded, high-strung sons of fair Italia, were 
 engaged in a battle which for years was still spoken 
 of with bated breath by the good citizens of the 
 town of A . . ., who were wont to inhibit the evil 
 propensities and turbulent spirits of their children 
 by the always effective formula, "The Guineas '11 
 catch you, if you don 't watch out. ' ' 
 
 Instinctively dividing into factions and each as 
 instinctively choosing his opponent, the infuriated 
 men rushed at each other like so many madmen.
 
 106 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Clubs appeared from nowhere, stilettos and guns 
 from everywhere, and in less than thirty seconds 
 each warrior was doing his prettiest to exterminate 
 his man. 
 
 At least a dozen shots were fired, and a half dozen 
 men wounded more or' less severely in the first rush. 
 After the two factions became indiscriminately 
 intermingled, shots were fired in the thick of the 
 fight, all of which went wild. There was, however, 
 some fairly effective work done with the knife 
 which has at least this much to its credit; it does 
 not often go wild, and when it does it usually hits 
 the right target, albeit in the wrong place. 
 
 Back and forth, up and down the room the fight- 
 ers struggled, a heaving, writhing mass of primitive 
 beasts, with the blood lust in their hearts and their 
 brains obsessed with one fierce desire to kill! 
 anyway, everyway, so it be to kill! 
 
 Now and again a man was crushed against the 
 tier of bunks or the wall until the very life was all 
 but squeezed out of him and he dropped helpless to 
 the floor from sheer suffocation, only to rise and go 
 at it again more fiercely than ever, as soon as he 
 regained his wind. 
 
 One man, with a stab in his throat which had nar- 
 rowly missed his jugular, staggered toward the door 
 and fell limply just outside. The first shock of the 
 blow recovered from, he re-entered the shack and 
 again plunged into the thick of the fray, battln^like 
 a demon, his blood spouting impartially on friend 
 and foe. 
 
 Another brawler, temporarily stunned and almost 
 blinded by a shot fired athwart his eyes at close 
 range, staggered to the open window, falling across
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 107 
 
 the sill, where he lay helpless for a minute or two, 
 then, recovering himself, he too, returned to the 
 fight. 
 
 The atmosphere of the room was redolent with 
 the odor of the perspiring bodies and lung exhala- 
 tions of the none too clean battlers, mingled with the 
 peculiar sickly odor of blood, the pungent smell of 
 garlic and the unmistakable acrid tang of powder 
 smoke. 
 
 The superintendent and foreman had finished 
 their pipes and sat chatting. The latter, however, 
 soon complained of feeling sleepy and asked to be 
 excused. 
 
 The two men bade each other good night and Par- 
 kyn repaired to the hotel veranda, where he sat for 
 a while revolving in his mind the seemingly crucial 
 situation that confronted Halloran and himself. 
 Growing restless and not being at all inclined bed- 
 ward, he finally sauntered slowly down to the steam- 
 boat wharf, where he stood pensively gazing at the 
 star-sprinkled night sky and the gorgeous summer 
 moon, that just then was proudly rising across the 
 heavens in all her cold, silver brilliancy. From time 
 to time his revery was disturbed by boisterous 
 shouts and rude laughter, proceeding from one of 
 the bunk-houses. 
 
 Suddenly there was the sound of angry voices, 
 immediately followed by the noise of a scuffle. Par- 
 kyn listened intently. 
 
 ' * That sounds as if 'Connor were getting busy, ' ' 
 he soliloquized. 
 
 A fusillade of shots rang out, mixed with yells of 
 pain and fury.
 
 108 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Good God! It's come !" 
 
 Parkyn tore up the pier and down the road toward 
 the bunk-house, yelling madly: 
 
 * ' Jack ! Oh Jack ! They 're at it ! Get down here, 
 quick, for God's sake!" 
 
 Some good citizens must have heard the row and 
 given the alarm, for before Bob reached the shack 
 where the battle was in progress, the bell in the 
 town hall was ringing like mad, night-capped heads 
 were popping out of windows, in every direction, and 
 suddenly-awakened women and children were shriek- 
 ing the town into pandemonium. 
 
 Somebody yelled, "Fire!" and the town's volun- 
 teer fire-fighters soon could be seen rushing madly 
 about like a lot of decapitated chickens, rubbing the 
 sleep and nocturnal gum from their eyes and 
 excitedly trying to find each other, make ready 
 the old hand-pump engine, and locate the fire. 
 
 As Parkyn rushed into the bunk-house he stum- 
 bled over the two warriors who were just rolling out 
 of the door. Narrowly missing stepping on them, 
 he sprang over their writhing, panting bodies and 
 straight on into the shack. 
 
 Merely because of its dramatic effects alone, the 
 scene into the midst of which the young engineer was 
 thus suddenly projected, was one that no man, and 
 least of all, Bob Parkyn, would have been likely ever 
 to forget. It was destined to be indelibly stamped up- 
 on the screen of his memory in letters of fire and 
 blood, to be vividly brought back a thousand times by 
 agony of soul, despair and humiliation of spirit such 
 as rarely falls to the lot of man. 
 
 A struggling, cursing, shouting, shooting, stabbing 
 mass of savage humanity in the center of the room 
 was trampling on the prostrate bodies of those who
 
 TEOUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 109 
 
 either were already Jiors de combat, or still were 
 murderously adjusting their mutual differences on 
 the floor. Shot after shot was fired from the midst 
 of the heaving mass, the missiles flying in all direc- 
 tions and making a zone of fire which, under the 
 circumstances, was more dangerous than the center 
 of warfare. 
 
 With instantaneous grasp of the state of affairs, 
 Parkyn rushed headlong into the thick of the fray 
 in a frantic endeavor to separate and mollify the 
 men. 
 
 "Fool?" Of course he was a fool, but the line be- 
 tween bravery and foolhardiness is so shadowy, so 
 intangible, that most high-spirited, strong-hearted 
 men overstep it some time or other. 
 
 Cowards rarely are foolhardy. Deeds of heroism 
 are not painted in yellow. Brave men sometimes 
 display cowardice there's a tinge of ochre even in 
 heroic blood but your man with the deeply in- 
 grained yellow streak rarely is just the sort of a 
 fool that Parkyn was on that memorable night on 
 the Hudson. 
 
 Many acts of heroism, like many crimes, are per- 
 formed on the impulse of the moment, and possibly 
 the young engineer, like many another hero on im- 
 pulse, the next instant regretted his rashness. If 
 so, the greater was his heroism, for he stood by his 
 guns. 
 
 Butch Harris long before had learned the lesson 
 that everybody had worries of his own, and that no- 
 body but "chumps" ever poked their "bills" into 
 other people's troubles. Besides, this was his 
 "racket" he had laid the wires and framed up the 
 setting for it. His cue, therefore, was to make his 
 "get away" and stay away until the battle was over,
 
 110 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 waiting meanwhile, to see what the fates would do 
 for him in the matter of dropping Parkyn into his 
 hand. 
 
 The Strangler saw the fight fairly well under way 
 he could not well help it, for the scrap came on so 
 suddenly and fiercely that it made even the experi- 
 enced and hardened ruffian gasp and then sneaked 
 out of the door to safety. He stationed himself be- 
 hind a near-by shack, and kept a sharp lookout in 
 the direction of the hotel. 
 
 Butch 's shrewd surmise as to Parkyn 's probable 
 action in case of a serious disturbance among the 
 workmen soon was justified by his appearance on the 
 scene. He came sprinting along like a deer, but in 
 a different direction from that expected by Harris. 
 
 As the young engineer passed his hiding place, 
 the thug, with a sudden inspiration that infused a 
 semblance of courage into his own yellow heart, 
 sprang after him, and when Parkyn entered the 
 bunk-house Butch was right at his heels. Instinctive- 
 ly realizing the golden opportunity to safely get his 
 man, he followed the superintendent into the thick of 
 the fray. 
 
 "Begorra! I'm wid yez, Misther Parkyn!" he 
 shouted in his fake Irish brogue. ' * Quit yer fightin ', 
 ye damned wops ! ' ' 
 
 When a man rushes into a crazy, fighting mob, 
 armed with pistols and knives, it is second nature 
 fo draw his own weapon if he has one upon him. 
 As Parkyn rushed into the crowd of maddened bat- 
 tlers he instinctively drew his pistol ; Butch followed 
 suit, but with a definite and sinister motive. 
 
 Although he did not draw his weapon with the 
 purpose of using it, the superintendent intuitively 
 felt that a gun in hand was worth a dozen argu-
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 111 
 
 ments in the proverbial bush. This idea in general 
 is not a bad one, but where everybody in a crowd 
 is armed with a gun or knife and shooting or stabbing 
 in all directions, a gun more or less doesn't count 
 for much either for its moral effect or as a phys- 
 ical argument. 
 
 Parkyn flourished his gun threateningly, and en- 
 deavored to separate the men by shouldering and 
 pulling them apart with his free hand, Butch pre- 
 tending to aid the young man, meanwhile looking 
 for a chance to get him. 
 
 The two men were immediately caught in the midst 
 of the press and the superintendent's gun-hand 
 was forced above his head. In the struggle to free 
 it, the weapon accidentally was discharged, the ball 
 whistling over the bobbing heads of the struggling, 
 swaying mass of infuriated fighters and passing out 
 of the door, to spend itself harmlessly in the hillside 
 on the other side of the road. 
 
 Just as Parkyn 's gun-hand was carried above the 
 
 t head-level of the mob, Butch pressed his own gun 
 to the young man's side and pulled the trigger! 
 No member of a fighting mob stays "put" long 
 enough to count as a steady target which is why 
 in such strenuous affairs the mortality rate is so 
 low. Parkyn himself did not stay put, and just as 
 the Strangler placed his gun against the superin- 
 tendent's side, the intended victim was rolled away 
 in the press of straining bodies. 
 
 The weapon was a good one tried and true it 
 was well aimed and went of on schedule time, but 
 the target swerved aside and the thug made a clean 
 miss of his man. 
 
 But " every bullet has its billet," and that from 
 Butch 's gun was no exception to the rule. Missing
 
 112 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Parkyn, it passed behind his back and tore a hole 
 through the chest of the man nearest him. The un- 
 fortunate fellow died without a groan, his heart torn 
 clear through. 
 
 The body of the dea'd man, supported by the liv- 
 ing bodies that suddenly closed in about him, stood 
 uncannily erect for a brief space, then, as the crowd 
 surged apart, it slipped and slid to the floor as a 
 bundle of rags might have fallen. It was rolled 
 over on its face by the cruel, tramping, kicking feet 
 of his late friends and foes and lay in a ghastly, 
 motionless heap around which a pool of blood slow- 
 ly formed. 
 
 Butch hastily cocked his gun and with the muzzle 
 full against Parkyn 's body again pulled the trigger. 
 But the young man's good fairy must have been on 
 guard that night although he later cursed the luck 
 that let him live through the fight for the hammer 
 clicked harmlessly on a defective cartridge. There 
 was no opportunity for the thug to make another at- 
 tempt to fire, for the rush of maddened men carried 
 him away from his quarry. 
 
 Luckily for Parkyn, he received a stab in the 
 thigh, which bled so freely that he soon fell from 
 sheer weakness. Once the superintendent had gone 
 to the floor, the infuriated men turned on Butch and 
 made common cause against him. He, too, went to 
 the floor under a rain of blows. His histrionic abil- 
 ity would have cost him his life, had not Jack Hal- 
 loran, reinforced by several constables and a number 
 of the towns-people, rushed in, club and gun in hand, 
 and overcome those of the men who still were on 
 their feet. 
 
 Heads were cracked and jaws were punched, right 
 and left, and the Italians, afl of whom were well nigh
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 113 
 
 exhausted from their enthusiastic efforts to slaugh- 
 ter each other and sundry weakening hurts on their 
 anatomies, were soon subjugated and taken to the 
 town calaboose. 
 
 No sooner had Butch Harris struggled to his feet, 
 than he dramatically pointed, first at the dead man 
 and then at Parkyn, and cried : 
 
 "There's de guy what killed that Dago!" 
 
 1 1 You 're crazy, you d d tough ! Say that again 
 
 an' I'll wring your neck!" raved the enraged Hal- 
 loran. 
 
 Threat and action came together with Jack Hal- 
 loran and had he not been pulled off by half a dozen 
 men, the thug probably would not have lived to bear 
 further testimony against Bob Parkyn. 
 
 The mayor, Hanton and Big Mike were among a 
 miscellaneous crowd that arrived on the scene just 
 in time to hear Butch accuse Parkyn of the murder. 
 The accusation was "nuts" for them, and the mayor 
 at once ordered the young engineer under arrest. 
 
 If John Halloran had not interposed, his friend 
 would have been thrown, bleeding and helpless as he 
 was and unable to speak, into the common calaboose 
 with the other prisoners, who undoubtedly would 
 have finished him long before morning. 
 
 The experienced Halloran applied a handkerchief 
 tourniquet to his friend 's thigh above the wound and 
 twisted it tightly, thus stopping the hemorrhage. 
 He then had him carried to the hotel and sent for a 
 physician, who promptly came and skilfully dressed 
 the wound, after which the doctor went to the jail 
 and attended to the less dangerous injuries of the 
 men. 
 
 A strong guard was placed over Parkyn for the 
 night. The mayor, now thoroughly alarmed, tele-
 
 114 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 graphed to the sheriff at the county seat for help. 
 The latter official at once telegraphed the governor, 
 and early the following morning a posse of deputy 
 sheriffs and a company of militia were in control of 
 the situation. 
 
 The coroner was notified and late the next after- 
 noon held an inquest, at which the most interested 
 listener was Boss Hennessy, who, apprised of the 
 situation by the New York papers, had come up 
 on the early morning boat, arriving in time to air 
 his indignation at the murder of one of his men, and 
 to hold a private conference with the coroner, the 
 coroner's physician and the town officials, in which 
 he left certain very definite impressions upon their 
 minds as to the frightful nature of the crime com- 
 mitted and the imperative necessity of protecting 
 the public and more especially the " honest laboring 
 man" by doing their full duty in the premises. 
 
 Immediately on his arrival at the scene, Hen- 
 nessy learned all the details of the murder, includ- 
 ing the charge made against Parkyn. He knew that 
 his henchman could be relied upon to "stick," hence 
 he very wisely kept away from that worthy member 
 of the Universal Society of Thugs, Limited, whilst 
 Butch, being mindful of the stipulation made by the 
 Boss at Black Bill's on the night of the frame-up, 
 studiously avoided his employer. 
 
 The evidence submitted at the coroner's inquest 
 was all one way, hence the result was a foregone 
 conclusion. 
 
 The jury was composed of honest, simple, town 
 and country folk, who in forming conclusions usual- 
 ly go straight to the point when the way is made
 
 TEOUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 115 
 
 plain to them and on this occasion it was made 
 plain enough for the most obtuse mind. 
 
 The Italians who were in the lamentable fracas, 
 really did not know who fired the shot that killed 
 their fellow countryman. None of those who had 
 fired pistols could feel quite sure that he himself 
 was not guilty of the murder. All were glad to 
 avail themselves of the opportunity to evade respon- 
 sibility by saddling the crime onto some one else. 
 
 m Their erstwhile "Irish" friend, "0/Connor," had 
 given them their cue. The fight being over, they 
 were glad to again claim his friendship, hence his 
 veracity was not to be questioned, and his direct 
 accusation of Parkyn had been staunchly supported 
 by adroit questioning and subtle suggestion by Hen- 
 nessy through an interpreter, in the jail prior to 
 the inquest. The Italians five of whom testified 
 being well-drilled, made excellent witnesses. The 
 testimony of one was the testimony of all. Each 
 swore that he had seen Parkyn fire the fatal shot. 
 
 The star witness naturally was "O'Connor.*' His 
 testimony was especially strong because of the seem- 
 ing hesitancy with which it was given, and the ap- 
 parent fact that in the melee he had endeavored to 
 assist Parkyn in his efforts to restore order, as the 
 accused man freely admitted. 
 
 In the minds of the jury there could be no doubt 
 as to who fired the shot by which the deceased came 
 to his death. O'Connor testified that he stood im- 
 mediately at the side of the accused and saw him 
 place his gun almost against the victim's breast 
 and fire. The witness also saw the deceased fall, 
 shortly after which he himself had publicly charged 
 Parkyn with the killing.
 
 116 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The testimony of Dr. Danford, the county phy- 
 sician, was merely perfunctory. He examined the 
 body of Giulio Maggioli, the deceased, and found 
 that he had come to his death from a gunshot wound, 
 fired, as proved by the character of the wound and 
 the powder marks, at close range. The ball had 
 passed obliquely through the chest, piercing the 
 heart, and lodged in the muscles of the back. 
 
 Yes, he had removed the ball and had it in his 
 office. He hadn't brought it to the inquest be- 
 cause he "didn't think it necessary." He could, 
 however, send for it, if the coroner so desired. 
 
 The coroner did not consider that the ball was es- 
 sential as an evidence exhibit the testimony of the 
 other witnesses and the doctor's statement of the 
 cause of death was complete without it, he said, 
 hence the doctor need not send for it. 
 
 It should be noted that Halloran 's gun, with which 
 Parkyn was said to have done the killing, was sub- 
 mitted as an important exhibit. 
 
 It may astonish the uninitiated that the bullet 
 was not called for. It will not, however, astonish 
 those who are wise in the ways of politics and its 
 dispensation of public offices to incompetents. The 
 selection of incumbents of political offices often 
 seems to involve a careful search for those persons 
 who are least intelligent and most inefficient and 
 subservient. 
 
 The coroner of H ... County was a typical 
 combination of political bum and country "rube" 
 who, if he ever looked past his own nose was likely 
 to get his retinas scorched and who, whilst lighting 
 his cigar hazarded a conflagration by the ignition 
 of his own breath.
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 117 
 
 The coroner's physician having been selected for 
 the office by the coroner himself, was a fit running- 
 mate for that bibulous person. Danford was a type 
 that is only too often met with in the profession 
 or rather, hanging onto the skirts of the profession. 
 Every city ward has one or more of him drawing 
 nurture from municipal politics. Every country 
 town has at least one of him. 
 
 Wherever he is found, the hall-marks are plain. 
 He is called "Doc," and is proud of it; he is a lib- 
 eral user of that lurid cosmetic known as "nose 
 paint," and has the reputation of being the "best 
 doctor in town when he's sober." The fact that 
 he never is sober serves as a sort of accident insur- 
 ance for the guileless layman. 
 
 What could have been expected of the befuddled 
 wits of the coroner and his subordinate? 
 
 As for Parkyn, he was still so weak from shock 
 and loss of blood, and his mind so murky and with- 
 al so overwhelmed by the overpowering weight of 
 the testimony against him, that he could think of 
 nothing save the fearful injustice of it all. 
 
 John Halloran, while intelligent enough and fair- 
 ly shrewd, was neither deep nor cunning, and be- 
 sides, he was so furious at the predicament in which 
 the young engineer had been placed, that he could 
 not think coolly nor coherently. He gave his testi- 
 mony in a disconnected and wrathful fashion which 
 might have suggested to the impartial mind an ar- 
 dent desire to whip the coroner and all of his min- 
 ions. He never for a moment thought of calling for 
 the fatal bullet and comparing its caliber to that of 
 the gun he had loaned the superintendent. 
 
 There were two men in the room who were decid-
 
 118 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 edly on the qui vive while Dr. Danford was testify- 
 ing, and to whose minds the coroner's decision as 
 to the bullet was very reassuring. 
 
 Hennessy saw the point at once he was an old 
 and experienced fox in such matters and could give 
 the average criminal lawyer "cards and spades." 
 He watched Butch 's face very closely while the 
 doctor was testifying and fancied he saw anxiety 
 depicted thereon. He was almost certain of this 
 when the question of sending for the bullet arose. 
 He thought also, that Butch 's face showed an ex- 
 pression of relief when the coroner decided that the 
 bullet was not necessary in evidence. 
 
 The Boss tried to catch his henchman's eye, but 
 without success. Butch apparently was counting the 
 hairs of a near-bald individual who sat just in front 
 of him, and affecting an indifference to the doctor's 
 testimony which, as the boss shrewdly surmised, he 
 did not feel. 
 
 Hennessy made, for future reference, a mental 
 note of the medical testimony. The cunning in- 
 stinct of the crook told him where the "hole in the 
 fence" was situated, and he resolved that it must 
 be mended. His first casual survey of the doctor's 
 physiognomy satisfied the Boss that he would have 
 little difficulty in that direction. As for the men 
 "higher up," they, he reflected, were "dead easy 
 a lead-pipe cinch. ' ' 
 
 There is one way to handle a fool who is easily 
 bent crooked, and another way to handle men who 
 already are bent, and who can't be fooled and rare- 
 ly fool themselves. Both, however, can be handled 
 by anybody who knows the price of men in the polit- 
 ical market, and the Boss knew the price better than 
 did most men. His experienced judgment as an
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 119 
 
 appraiser of that sort of goods never had been chal- 
 lenged. 
 
 The feebly-given testimony of the accused in his 
 own behalf had no weight with the coroner's jury. 
 They regarded it as the usual denial of guilt on the 
 part of a criminal. 
 
 The verdict of the jury was clear and succinct : 
 
 "We, the jury, find that the deceased, Giulio Mag- 
 gioli, came to his death by a gunshot wound, inflict- 
 ed with intent to kill, by the prisoner, Robert Par- 
 kyn, and recommend that he be held without bail 
 to the grand jury of H ... County to await its 
 action. ' ' 
 
 The prisoner was turned over to the sheriff, and 
 immediately taken by him to the jail in the town of 
 B . . ., the county seat. 
 
 When he gave the lie to "O'Connor," loyal Jack 
 Halloran had no means of knowing that the young 
 engineer really had not killed the Italian. Not real- 
 izing at first the seriousness of the young man's 
 predicament, he felt that, if Parkyn really had done 
 the killing, it was all in the line of his duty, and 
 that one Guinea more or less should not weigh very 
 heavily in the balance with the life and liberty of 
 an American citizen, and especially of a friend. 
 
 The inquest had not proceeded far, however, be- 
 fore the big foreman plainly saw that, so far as the 
 coroner's jury was concerned, young Parkyn 's case 
 was hopeless. When the verdict was in and Bob had 
 been transferred to the county jail, Jack swore a 
 string of ripping oaths that would have made a fish- 
 wife blush. He vowed vengeance on O'Connor in 
 every language known to masters of profanity, at 
 the same time vaguely comprehending his utter help-
 
 120 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 lessness and inability to aid his friend and co-work- 
 er. 
 
 Aroused at last to comprehension of his friend's 
 danger and greatly disturbed by the verdict, Jack 
 hastened to visit the prisoner in the lockup, for the 
 double purpose of rendering him any assistance 
 he might need, and getting his story first hand. 
 
 Parkyn had so far recovered that he could talk 
 to Halloran, albeit with difficulty and against the 
 doctor's orders. 
 
 "Did you shoot that fellow, Mr. Parkyn?" anx- 
 iously inquired the foreman. 
 
 "No," replied the prisoner feebly, "I fired only 
 one shot and that accidentally. The ball went over 
 the heads of the crowd and then the Lord knows 
 where. I couldn't have shot him if I had tried. I was 
 wedged in the crowd so tightly that I couldn't move, 
 and my pistol hand was stuck up in the air, with 
 somebody holding my arm. In struggling to free 
 myself I pulled the trigger of that self-cocker 
 and there you are. 
 
 "Have you got any idea who did do the killing?" 
 
 "Not the least in the world, Halloran. In that 
 mixup it would have been safe to lay it onto any- 
 body." 
 
 "Even onto you," said the foreman bitterly. 
 "Well, we'll get you out o' this all right," he con- 
 tinued, not quite confidently. 
 
 "Let us hope so, Halloran," and Parkyn smiled 
 faintly. 
 
 The seriousness of his friend's position was pretty 
 clear to Halloran when he said good night to him 
 in the jail, and he was more alarmed than he cared 
 to admit.
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKEE 121 
 
 Hennessy received the verdict with all the sang 
 froid exhibited by his class when they have put some- 
 thing "over." The physiognomy of the cat that 
 ate the canary was peevish and fretful compared 
 with Hennessy 's self -satisfied smirk. The expres- 
 sion of his countenance, in brief, was suggestive of 
 "gloat." 
 
 Butch 's mission had been successful beyond his 
 chief's wildest anticipation. The Boss wondered at 
 Harris ' change of programme, and hungered for de- 
 tails of the for him lucky affair that had put his 
 enemy into his hands via a situation which, even 
 without any "nursing," was about as bad for the 
 engineer as anything that even Hennessy himself 
 could have devised. If there was no slip-up, he 
 thought, Parkyn 's predicament "beat gettin' him 
 cooked, to a fare ye well." 
 
 It was not to be expected that the Boss would 
 forego the pleasure of calling on his down-fallen, 
 helpless foe. The sight of young Parkyn, lying on 
 a stretcher at the inquest, had been pleasant indeed, 
 but he knew one that would be far sweeter to his 
 mental palate. He fain would enjoy the sight of the 
 young engineer alone and suffering in gaol. 
 
 And so, before returning to New York, the venge- 
 ful Boss Hennessy paid a visit to Parkyn in the 
 county jail at B ... In the name of pity and 
 in behalf of the milk of human kindness, let us re- 
 joice that he was disappointed in his efforts to har- 
 ass his victim. 
 
 The series of shocks which the prisoner had ex- 
 perienced, the loss of blood, the pain of his wound 
 which had become excruciating a hypodermic of 
 morphine given him by the doctor and several de-
 
 122 . TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 grees of septic temperature that already had devel- 
 oped, had put his mind in such a dazed condition 
 that it was almost beyond comprehension of his en- 
 emy's presence, to say nothing of the attempts of 
 the Boss to worry him by vicious, merciless, verbal 
 assaults. 
 
 To the mind of the unfortunate young man, the 
 events of the past few days were an unpleasant, 
 incoherent dream. He saw "as through a glass, 
 darkly," and his sensibilities were obscured by a 
 cloud of indifference and benumbed receptivity of 
 all impressions, that the venomous tongue of his 
 enemy could not penetrate. 
 
 Hennessy helped himself to a stool which, with 
 the rude pallet that constituted Parkyn's bed, was 
 the only furniture in the cell. He lost no time in 
 preliminaries, but at once began launching his bolts. 
 
 "So," he sneered, "mamma's little Willie boy is 
 pretty handy with a gun, ain 't he f You '11 be taught 
 better than to cook a poor, hard workin' lad before 
 we get done with ye. D 'ye get me ? ' ' 
 
 The prisoner did not "get" him, but stared at 
 him with dim and vacuous eyes. 
 
 "Huh! Not very sociable, are ye?" pursued the 
 Boss. "Mamma didn't bring ye up right, did she? 
 What '11 she say when she hears what's happened to 
 her baby boy, eh?" 
 
 Parkyn's brows contracted and his eyes became 
 more alert for a fleeting moment ; he then resumed 
 his vacuous stare. 
 
 Hennessy was not making progress and he began 
 to see it, so he resolved to play what in his benight- 
 ed ignorance he considered his trump card. 
 
 "Oh, come out of it!" cried the Boss, grasping
 
 TROUBLE AND PEACE MAKER 123 
 
 the prostrate man roughly by the shoulder, and 
 giving him a violent shake. "What d'ye s'pose 
 Maggie Halloran'll say, when she reads what's hap- 
 pened to her tootsey wootsey an' what's goin' ter 
 happen to 'im pretty soon?" The Boss made the 
 * ' sign of the rope ' ' with his free hand. 
 
 The young engineer gazed at his tormentor with 
 a puzzled expression. 
 
 "Maggie Maggie Halloran ? '" he said slowly, 
 with an evident struggle to arouse his dulled mem- 
 ory and find words to frame his question. "Who 
 who is Mag Maggie Hal Halloran I ' ' 
 
 The Boss let go of the young man's shoulder and 
 snorted disgustedly, ' ' Bugs ! ' ' 
 
 As he went out of the door, boiling with rage and 
 disappointment, Hennessy turned and called back 
 over his shoulder: 
 
 "Reckon you'll come out o' this all right, Bo, if 
 the Doc. is onto his job, an' if ye do, the lawyers '11 
 have better luck makin' ye talk than I did. You'll 
 not need any third degree beforehand, anyhow. 
 Your case is a lead pipe cinch. ' ' 
 
 The following morning Hennessy returned to 
 A . . ., and in a state of mind far different than 
 on the evening on which our story opens, took the 
 boat to New York. 
 
 The attraction which women had for the Boss was 
 not tinged by any idealism or sentiment, but was 
 of a purely physical character. The desire to pos- 
 sess was stronger while it lasted than the more 
 tender, enduring quality of desire of which poets 
 and romancers are wont to rave, and his resent- 
 ment of any interference with his sex cravings was
 
 124 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 as fierce as it was primitive. He not only no longer 
 cared for Maggie Halloran, but regarded her as 
 an unappreciative fool, and hated her most cordial- 
 ly. His heart was invulnerable to hurt, but his 
 pride and prestige were not, and his one thought now 
 was revenge, but revenge upon the man whom he 
 erroneously considered hfs successful rival was not 
 all he sought ; he included Maggie Halloran in his 
 wrath. She had turned him down that was enough. 
 
 Hennessy was a savage and relentless hater. He 
 never forgave an injury, and when he went after 
 his man stopped not until he got him. In injuring 
 Parkyn he felt that he not only would revenge him- 
 self upon a favored rival, but also would take the 
 shortest cut to evening up matters with the woman 
 who had scorned his high and mighty self. 
 
 Like all of his vengeful, lawless kind, the Boss 
 dearly loved to partake of funeral baked meats at 
 the expense of a foe. The sight of sorrowful 
 smilax and immortelles also was a joy to his heart, 
 and the smell of tuberoses and such trimmings on 
 an enemy's coffin was as incense to his nostrils. 
 This, however, was better. Dead men tell no tales, 
 but here was a live one who, for Hennessy 's pur- 
 poses, at present was worth a dozen dead ones. 
 
 "The big stiff may get croaked on a string, but 
 it'll be by a guy that's licensed reg'lar to do the 
 cookin'," he chuckled to himself. 
 
 Things certainly were coming his way, and as the 
 Boss sat at a table in the bar-room of the boat with 
 his feet cocked up on a chair, a bottle of whisky, a 
 siphon of seltzer and a tall glass in his hand, smoking 
 a fat, black, maduro perfecto, "three for a half." 
 he softly hummed a tune that just then was very pop- 
 ular in gang-land :
 
 TEOUBLE AND PEACE MAKEE 125 
 
 "Dere was a man in New York town, an' he was mighty 
 
 wise, 
 'Till he took a stroll in de Bow-er-ee an' met two strong 
 
 arm guys. 
 Dey stuck 'im up an' rolled 'im; to tell dis gives me 
 
 pain. 
 
 Dey broke his bean an croaked 'im, an' he never 
 peeped again. ' ' 
 
 Unquestionably, Mr. Thomas-Boss-Bull-Hennes- 
 sy was happy. Standards vary, of course. 
 
 " There's just nothin' to it!" he murmured, con- 
 tentedly, as he lighted a fresh cigar and helped him- 
 self to another stiff drink.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 
 
 For the first few days after his removal to the 
 county jail at B . . ., Parkyn remained practical- 
 ly indifferent to his surroundings. The wound in 
 his thigh no longer was painful, but the slight in- 
 fection that attended it was aggravated by the me- 
 chanical disturbance incidental to the trip from 
 A ... and did not yield promptly to treatment, 
 although Halloran had employed a competent sur- 
 geon to continue the management of the case. The 
 brain depression consequent upon septic absorption, 
 combined with the shock of the injury from the ef- 
 fects of which he had not quite recovered and the 
 continued exhaustion incidental to the loss of blood 
 he had experienced, to a certain extent still be- 
 numbed the young man's mental faculties. 
 
 It was not long, however, before Parkyn 's mag- 
 nificent constitution asserted itself, his temperature 
 subsided, the wound rapidly healed and he began to 
 take a lively interest in his decidedly unpleasant sit- 
 uation. Bail having been refused which refusal 
 was superfluous, as the young man was without 
 financial resources the prisoner found himself 
 compelled to face a period of jail life that was as 
 disagreeable as it was indefinite. 
 
 There undoubtedly have been worse dungeons in 
 the world than the jail at B . . ., but it must be
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 127 
 
 confessed that for discomfort the institution was 
 a match for almost anything in the jail line then 
 extant. It probably would have made some medie- 
 val prisons look to their laurels. 
 
 The County Court House, in the rear of which, 
 in a sort of annex, was the jail, was a remarkable 
 building of brick, built when B . . . was young, 
 that had not kept pace with the rest of the town. 
 
 It is true that as B ... grew in size and im- 
 portance the authorities had endeavored to adapt 
 the courthouse to the increasing necessities of their 
 constituency, but they built neither wisely nor well. 
 Instead of tearing down the old building and re- 
 placing it with a new and more modern structure, 
 they had built addition after addition onto the orig- 
 inal building until it was an uncouth architectural 
 monstrosity and as unsanitary and inconvenient as 
 the ingenuity of ignorance could make it. The jail 
 originally was an afterthought and evidently was 
 built in the rear of the main building chiefly be- 
 cause the space was useless for any other purpose. 
 
 On one side of the courthouse was a fire-engine 
 house, and on the other a livery stable. On the side 
 of the alley opposite the jail were numerous pri- 
 vate stables. The offal from these various sources, 
 combined with the garbage that was indiscriminate- 
 ly thrown into the alley, furnished an effluvium 
 which was well nigh insupportable. As the light and 
 ventilation of the jail were provided by a single iron- 
 barred, unscreened window overlooking the alley, 
 the consequent imitation of the Black Hole of Cal- 
 cutta was closer than was comfortable for any luck- 
 less individual who chanced to be entertained at the 
 expense of the county. To insure against any pos- 
 sibility of the inmates of the jail getting a sufficient
 
 128 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 amount of light and God's oxygen, the cells were lo- 
 cated on the side farthest away from the window. 
 This arrangement undoubtedly was considered an 
 evidence of the builder's profound knowledge of 
 prison architecture, for it certainly conformed to 
 the prevalent ideas of correct form in prison build- 
 ing prevalent not only then, but even now. 
 
 Huge, buzzing, droning swarms of flies, in which 
 the genuses blue-bottle and horse-fly were much in 
 evidence, added their quota of nastiness to the fes- 
 tering mass of filth in which the alley abounded. 
 
 Much has been said and written regarding the 
 evil propensities of the domestic fly, but no one ever 
 has accused him of unsociability or stinginess. He 
 is especially sociable at meal times, and more than 
 liberal in sharing with his hosts anything that he 
 may have picked up in the stable-yard or garbage 
 can. As he neglects to wash his feet, when he dines 
 with his human hosts he always gives liberally of 
 his store of filth in exchange for such particles of 
 food or portions of drink as he may appropriate 
 for his own nourishment. He is especially prodigal 
 in the distribution of the microbes of disease his 
 favorite contribution being the bacillus of typhoid. 
 The flies of B ... were wont to congregate in 
 great swarms in and about the jail, and were even 
 more sociable and offensive than the majority of 
 their kind. 
 
 At the time of his incarceration Parkyn was the 
 only steady boarder in the county's caravansary and 
 had an almost constant monopoly of the flies. An oc- 
 casional " drunk and disorderly" was thrown into 
 the jail, but as such law-breakers were transients 
 and usually were jailed at night, their cases being 
 disposed of in the morning, they did very little to
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 129 
 
 assist the young man in entertaining his buzzy 
 guests. 
 
 One useful function, however, was subserved by 
 these drunks. They seemed to divert from Parkyn 
 the attention of other and more carnivorous insect 
 pests with which the jail was infested. Whether the 
 alcoholized blood of the aforesaid transient guests 
 was more agreeable than Parkyn 's to the palates of 
 the blood-thirsty insects, or so stupefied them that 
 they lost interest in the search for fresh victims, is 
 open to question, but certain it is that he was able 
 to sleep in comparative comfort when he had a 
 drunk or two for fellow-prisoners. 
 
 By energetic battling with the insect marauders 
 of the night, succeeding generations of prisoners had 
 added much to the weird general color design of 
 the jail interior. Around the walls was a splotchy 
 red dado, with radiating perpendicular streaks along 
 the cracks of the matched boarding with which the 
 room was walled and ceiled in lieu of plaster. Blend- 
 ing with the dingy, age-yellowed whitewash of the 
 walls this coloring was most deappetizing. Parkyn 's 
 disgust when he discovered that the incongruous col- 
 or effect was due to crushed vermin, may be imag- 
 ined. 
 
 The rude bunk on which the prisoner was expect- 
 ed to woo the drowsy god, was in keeping with the 
 other appointments of the jail. The linen was 
 rusty with age and mildewed from dampness and 
 lack of airing. The musty smell of the bed-clothes 
 was commingled with the characteristic odor of the 
 human body which told of the infrequency of laund- 
 ering, and suggested that the authorities believed in 
 making such luckless occupants of the gaol as were 
 not used to regular bathing, feel perfectly at home.
 
 130 TBUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The blankets which theoretically were supposed 
 to protect the occupant from the cold in rigouous 
 weather, presented an embarrasing problem for the 
 prisoner who was compelled to rely upon them for 
 warmth and comfort. Semi-occasional and imper- 
 fect washings had distinctly failed to improve their 
 appearance, but had been very successful in shrink- 
 ing their proportions. 
 
 The weather suddenly had turned cold and rainy, 
 and Parkyn struggled with the blankets for several 
 nights in the vain endeavor to compromise between 
 cold feet and exposure of his chest to chill. The ef- 
 fort to cover the one, resulted disastrously to the 
 other. He finally gave up in despair and slept in 
 his socks, devoting the blanket chiefly to the pro- 
 tection of his lungs. 
 
 The blankets were rivaled by the mattress in 
 their ambition to make the occupant of the bunk 
 thoroughly uncomfortable. It was upholstered with 
 excelsior, in which, apparently, there was a large 
 admixture of ordinary pine shavings. This uphol- 
 stering had segregated itself into veritable islands 
 and continents of torture. 
 
 Parkyn consoled himself with the reflection that 
 the lumps of excelsior which made his nights one 
 long, dreary round of fragmentary sleep and wake- 
 ful discomfort, were not composed of splinters. He 
 did at least escape with sundry areas of angrily 
 reddened and tender skin. There were no real lac- 
 erations, and this gave the prisoner a hopeful view 
 of conditions. It seemed reasonable to suppose that 
 his skin finally would become so tough from con- 
 stant mechanical abuse that nothing short of a bullet 
 or a knife ever could penetrate it. 
 
 To make doubly certain the misery of the guests
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 131 
 
 of the county, the builder of the jail with diabolic 
 ingenuity had constructed it only one story in height. 
 As there was no air space above the ceiling, the ef- 
 fect of the sun's rays beating down upon the tarred 
 and graveled roof in hot weather was all that the 
 most ardent believer in the punishment of innocent 
 as well as guilty accused persons could desire. 
 
 Discounting the flies, the diet end of the sojourn 
 in the jail at B ... was not open to serious crit- 
 icism. Prisoners were not to be had in sufficient 
 numbers to make official graft on their food worth 
 while, hence Parkyn had little to complain of regard- 
 ing either the quantity or quality of the food. With 
 a few more prisoners to feed and a course of lessons 
 in grafting from experienced officials in larger and 
 more metropolitan communities, the sheriff of H . . 
 County might not have been so liberal. 
 
 There came to the prisoner long, depressing 
 stretches of loneliness when he cordially would have 
 welcomed the occasional babbling drunks and 
 could even tolerate the noisy curiosity-seekers in 
 the alley. At such times the thought of his mother 
 oppressed him dreadfully. Alone, ill, almost friend- 
 less, and with the prop of her old age suddenly 
 knocked from under her, he knew what she must be 
 enduring. 
 
 Halloran had seen Mrs. Parkyn several times 
 since her son's arrest, and had reported her con- 
 dition as favorably as he could even stretching 
 a point for the consolation of the prisoner but had 
 not deceived him in the least. Her infrequent letters 
 to her boy told their own pathetic story. The hand- 
 writing showed the tremulous hand of advancing 
 age and debility. He instinctively felt that he was 
 destined never to see her again.
 
 132 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Then, too, he thought of the promise the outside 
 world had offered him of a successful career in 
 his profession. He never had lacked confidence in 
 the genius of hard work and honest endeavor, nor 
 had he ever lacked faith in his own ability, even in 
 the dark days before the railroad position gave him 
 his first chance for himself. He believed that the 
 opportunity to work was the only thing that really 
 was essential to success. 
 
 The sudden transition of his rosy horizon of hope 
 into the leaden picture that now confronted him, and 
 which in his mental vision he saw growing still dark- 
 er in days to come, was an excruciating experience. 
 The contrast between the optimism of youthful an- 
 ticipation and the gloom of disappointment was suf- 
 ficient to shock one more sanguine than even the 
 young engineer. 
 
 Time after time he drew from his pocket his 
 mother's photograph and with it the magazine pic- 
 ture of the unknown young woman, from which his 
 imagination had constructed as close an approxi- 
 mation to the ideal as was possible for one whose 
 mind was so tinged with practicality. As he gazed 
 on the pictures he appreciated more than ever be- 
 fore the maternal love that he had enjoyed, and that 
 other love which might have been. 
 
 So far as the picture of the young woman was 
 concerned, his emotions naturally were not such as 
 would have been aroused had he known and loved 
 the original, but the picture typified the hope that 
 every properly constituted man should have, of wife 
 and family. It was an ideal for one who never be- 
 fore had definitely formed in his mind a sex ideal 
 of any kind. The picture was emblematic also, of 
 the position in life he had hoped some day to win.
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 133 
 
 Parkyn could not help felicitating himself and 
 the fair unknown on their mutual good fortune in 
 never having met and loved each other. There were 
 just that many less heart-aches to endure, and one 
 less victim to endure them. This was meager con- 
 solation, perhaps, but it helped. 
 
 The monotony of the young engineer's jail life 
 rarely was broken by anything agreeable save the 
 occasional visits of John Halloran, who came to see 
 his friend as often as he could. Unpleasant breaks 
 in the monotonny were, however, more frequent. 
 
 A real live murderer was not found in the county 
 jail of B . . .so often as in the jails of more 
 metropolitan communities, hence morbid curiosity 
 on the part of the more unstable element of the town 
 was not to be wondered at. Numbers of the curios- 
 ity-seekers braved the filth, noisome effluvia and 
 swarming flies of the alley at the rear of the jail 
 in the hope of catching a glimpse of the supposedly 
 desperate criminal within. Some of these persons, 
 more morbidly curious and venturesome than their 
 companions, boldly climbed on boxes and barrels and 
 endeavored to catch a glimpse of the desperado. 
 
 The ubiquitous, omnipresent small boy comprised 
 a large part of the sensation seekers, and as the small 
 boy of B ... was a particularly noisy and ir- 
 reverent variety of the pestiferous species, Parkyn 's 
 life in the county jail could not have been a dream 
 of ecstatic bliss, even though other conditions had 
 been favorable. 
 
 Worse even than the flies, the smells and the noisy 
 little imps who congregated about the jail, were the 
 curious members of the fair sex who, on one pretext 
 or another, secured permission to visit the prisoner. 
 These ladies, for the most part, approached the pris-
 
 134 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 loner's cage in an apprehensive state of mind bor- 
 dering on hysteria. When, however, they found that 
 Parkyn did not fly at them like the traditional wild 
 man, they lost their nervousness and allowed their 
 morbid, quasi-sentimental interest in the "criminal" 
 to have full sway. 
 
 The romantic, extremely young and callow female 
 person who often builds heroes out of very bad 
 clay was, of course, numerously in evidence. These 
 young persons, who had not yet passed the green- 
 apple stage of sex development, were tolerated by 
 the prisoner merely because of the innocent amuse- 
 ment they afforded. 
 
 There were other female visitors, however, who 
 were more annoying, because wiser and more ex- 
 perienced along the lines of sex-approach. Some 
 of these fair ones endeavored to solace the unfor- 
 tunate young man by praying and singing hymns. 
 Despite the obduracy of the prisoner who knew lit- 
 tle or nothing of sex-psychology, and therefore did 
 not receive that sort of consolation at all hospitably 
 or with sympathetic understanding these ladies de- 
 cided that he was "a perfect dear," and each and 
 every one of them proceeded to more or less openly 
 lavish upon him the blandishments peculiar to the sex. 
 In fact, there was considerable rivalry as to who 
 should have precedence in the matter of blandish- 
 ments and frequency of visits. 
 
 Taken all in all, Parkyn 's experience in the county 
 jail of B ... was such that he would have been 
 reconciled to almost any reasonable punishment, 
 however undeserved, that would have enabled him 
 to escape his unpleasant situation. He thought of 
 the innumerable instances in which poor devils had 
 been permitted to lie in jail for many months before
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 135 
 
 trial, forgotten perhaps, like the prisoners in the 
 Bastile. He recalled two cases, reported in the daily 
 press, of poor, ignorant foreigners who had been 
 committed to a metropolitan jail and allowed to re- 
 main there for a year, without trial, when they 
 were discovered by sheer accident; he also recalled 
 the case of a woman who was held merely as a wit- 
 ness, and allowed to lie in jail for many months. 
 As he thought of these unfortunates, he grew almost 
 desperate. 
 
 But the young man gave himself unnecessary anx- 
 iety. There was no danger of any prolongation of 
 his detention in jail because of tardy legal action. 
 Forces were at work of which he knew nothing, and 
 moreover, in his particular case, his very poverty 
 and friendlessness were aiding and abetting these 
 forces in their endeavor to secure a speedy dispen- 
 sation of " justice" which, in his case, when freely 
 translated, meant " railroading" him as rapidly as 
 was humanly possible. 
 
 When young Parkyn learned that the grand jury 
 had returned a true-bill against him, he was not 
 surprised, for that this would occur had been a fore- 
 gone conclusion. He was, however, astonished when 
 he learned that his case had been set for trial in 
 October. 
 
 The knowledge that his incarceration in the coun- 
 ty jail would soon be over was such joyful news 
 that, in large measure, it tempered the pessimism 
 with which the prisoner regarded the outcome of his 
 case. He thought, and not without reason, that there 
 could not possibly be a change for the worse in his 
 condition, and felt that even if his surroundings 
 had been more pleasant, the reality of punishment
 
 136 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 could not equal in horror the discomfort and sus- 
 pense he then was enduring. He did not believe that, 
 according to law and the evidence, he possibly could 
 be in danger of the scaffold, even though judges and 
 juries sometimes were dense in interpretation and 
 savage in execution of the law. He had had no legal 
 training, but like all intelligent men who follow the 
 trend of current events, he knew something of the 
 legal lines that were drawn between man-killings 
 and of their classification. Notwithstanding the fact 
 that his lawyer was a venal ass, as will be seen later, 
 Parkyn had succeeded in getting from him a more or 
 less clear confirmation of his own ideas of the situa- 
 tion. 
 
 Had the prisoner believed that he would be com- 
 pelled permanently to remain in the jail at B ... 
 it is questionable whether even an immediate pros- 
 pect of capital punishment itself would have bad any 
 terrors for him. The loss of liberty alone is a terri- 
 ble affliction for a normal man, but when to impris- 
 onment are added all the physical discomforts and 
 inconveniences that ignorant humanity can devise, 
 matters become so intolerable that it is not remark- 
 able that some sensitive minds should find death by 
 suicide, or even by the hangman's rope, pleasanter 
 to contemplate. Were it not that long or frequent 
 imprisonment blunts to a greater or less degree the 
 sensibilities of the most refined, suicides would be 
 much more frequent in prisons than they are. Pos- 
 sibly, however, the lack of opportunity has quite 
 as much to do with the relative inf requency of self- 
 destruction in penal institutions as has the inevit- 
 able deadening of the moral and physical sensibili- 
 ties noted in criminals. 
 
 The law of our great and glorious country pre-
 
 A GUEST OF THE COUNTY 137 
 
 sumes every man innocent until he is proven guilty. 
 Before trial it punishes the innocent and guilty alike 
 unless the accused has money then the innocent 
 and guilty alike are permitted to walk the pleasant 
 paths of freedom. 
 
 If the punishment of the guilty were proportion- 
 ate in severity to the unjust treatment accorded hun- 
 dreds of friendless accused persons many of them 
 innocent who are held without bail prior to trial 
 in this so-called "Christian" land of ours, suicide 
 would be the simplest solution of the problem facing 
 the criminal.
 
 CHAPTEB X 
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 
 
 As was to have been expected, the attitude of 
 some of their women toward Parkyn did not fail to 
 excite the satirical criticism of the male population 
 ofB . . .. 
 
 "The women folks go to the jail to pray and re- 
 main to mash," said one of the more irreverent of 
 these critics. 
 
 Another, not so irreverently, perhaps, but more 
 offensively, remarked that their conduct showed 
 what some women would do to a fellow who was 
 "locked up in a cage" and could neither "come 
 back, defend himself, nor get away. ' ' 
 
 Beneath the satire and apparent jocularity of 
 their attitude toward the foibles of their women 
 folks was a glow of resentment on the part of the 
 men of B . . ., in which the primordial jealousy 
 of the male sex played a prominent part. This added 
 fuel to the fire of social revengefulness that had 
 burned in H ... County, ever since the murder 
 for which Parkyn was to be tried. 
 
 Some of the men were infuriated. Indeed, had 
 it not been for a few of the wiser heads, several of 
 those whose female relatives or friends had visited 
 the prisoner would have started an agitation of 
 which a lynching party would have been the logical 
 and inevitable sequence. 
 
 After the indictment of young Parkyn, Boss Hen-
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 139 
 
 nessy was a very busy man. He made several trips 
 to B ... and "saw" everybody of importance 
 who was likely to be in the least interested in the 
 trial. 
 
 The Boss was a coarse worker if needs must, but 
 he knew when to "draw it fine." He set about his 
 work on this occasion in a manner far more subtle 
 and smooth than might have been expected from one 
 of his gross fibre and inferior quality of intellect, 
 and with a degree of success which showed that one 
 often can accomplish more with cunning than with 
 brains. 
 
 Hennessy was particularly careful to "play up" 
 the poor man who "earned his living by the sweat 
 of his brow" and who, according to the verdict of 
 the coroner's jury, had been killed by a man whose 
 education and position in life should have taught 
 him better things. 
 
 When talking to men whose positions depended 
 upon the favor of politics, Hennessy did not forget 
 to subtly suggest the political value of attention to 
 one's patriotic duty. This did yeoman service in 
 fanning the flame of resentment against such bar- 
 barous crimes as "the murder of that poor, unfor- 
 tunate working-man. ' ' 
 
 The railroad officials, who naturally might have 
 been expected to aid Parkyn, even granting that he 
 really had committed the killing in the discharge of 
 what obviously was his duty, did not offer to aid 
 him in any way. Indeed, the officers of the road 
 took full advantage of the opportunity to ingratiate 
 themselves into the good will of the public by dis- 
 playing a virtuous horror of the crime, and a hypo- 
 critical desire to see the slayer of the poor laborer 
 given his just deserts.
 
 140 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Then, too, the railway company had troubles of 
 its own and was not greatly concerned with the fate 
 of brawlers and murderers, save insofar as a dis- 
 play of interest might be of advantage to the cor- 
 poration itself. 
 
 Sundry conversations with Boss Hennessy had 
 much to do with the public-spirited and pro-labor 
 views of the railroad officials. His indignation at the 
 slaying of one of his honest, hard-working laborers, 
 was the more infectious because of its apparent sin- 
 cerity. 
 
 The Boss did not fail to casually convey his sen- 
 timents to the editor of The Clarion, the leading 
 weekly newspaper of B ... The editor was 
 fully impressed, as was to have been expected, inas- 
 much as he did the county printing a profitable 
 graft that had been given him for his invaluable po- 
 litical services. 
 
 The Clarion was noted for the ' 'fairness and 
 
 nch" of its editorial utterances, and its editor 
 become an oracle whose opinion it was almost 
 sacrilege to question. The reputation of the paper 
 for altruism and the desire for justice to all men 
 were well substantiated by its editorials on the mur- 
 der. 
 
 While deploring the "exigencies of our economic 
 system, and deploring still more any acts of lawless- 
 ness or violence incidental to strikes," the editor rec- 
 ognized the fact that differences of opinion as to la- 
 bor values between employer and employe were un- 
 avoidable. He felt sure, however, that matters were 
 fast arriving at a point where mutual concessions 
 would lead to "harmonious agreement for the peace- 
 able settlement of all such differences.'* 
 
 Having thus smugly and virtuously avoided com-
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 141 
 
 mitting himself on the great question at issue, the 
 editor proceeded to " deeply deplore and view with 
 alarm the awful crime committed almost in our very 
 midst." And he did not fail to speak in behalf of 
 those "honest sons of toil," from whose ranks the 
 late Giulio Maggioli had been so suddenly removed 
 "by the hand of the assassin." 
 
 Then there were * ' the educated and more cultured 
 classes," whose duty it was "to set a worthy ex- 
 ample for the toiling millions, treat them kindly and 
 give them their due meed of appreciation for the 
 noble part they bear in the world's work and prog- 
 ress." 
 
 Here, the editor grew almost maudlin: "And to 
 think that an educated, presumably refined young 
 man of good family and inf erentially proper rearing 
 has been indicted for so heinous a crime as the mur- 
 der of a poor, honest, hard-working laborer!" 
 
 The editor did not overlook the opportunity to call 
 attention to "the entente cordiale existing between 
 the murdered man's country and these United 
 States." This, he contended, was a point "well 
 worthy of thoughtful consideration by every law- 
 abiding, patriotic citizen of the great commonwealth 
 of New York, and of this great country of ours 
 a country that stands for liberty, equal rights and 
 brotherly love. ' ' 
 
 "How can we expect considerate treatment of our 
 citizens abroad," he pleaded, "if we condone such 
 awful crimes perpetrated by our citizens upon those 
 of other and friendly lands ? ' ' 
 
 This was a particularly telling point with the cli- 
 entele of The Clarion. Some of the readers did not 
 know what an entente cordiale was, but all of them 
 knew that it was not one of the many canned break-
 
 142 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 fast foods offered for their morning nourishment 
 and that it must, therefore, be something awe-in- 
 spiring. That it was something that involved our 
 national honor was made plain by the editorial. It 
 also was made evident that, whatever it might be, 
 it was a good thing for Uncle Sam to have in the 
 house, so the readers of The Clarion were duly im- 
 pressed with the duty of every law-abiding patriot 
 to defend the entente cordiale, with his very life, if 
 need be. 
 
 The editor was as careful to enjoin the readers 
 of The Clarion to withhold their judgment of the 
 case, as he was adroitly to impress upon their minds 
 the belief that the prisoner, Parkyn, was guilty. 
 
 "The accused man" here the editor rose to the 
 very heights of rhetorical fancy and expression 
 "must not be permitted to suffer from any precon- 
 ceived opinions or adverse sentiments on the part of 
 the intelligent reading public." (This, of course, 
 meant the readers of The Clarion). "Despite the 
 verdict of the coroner 's jury, the minds of our cit- 
 izens should remain open." 
 
 The editor concluded his column of cant and hy- 
 pocrisy with a fulsome and glowing eulogy of Mr. 
 Thomas Hennessy, who had "devoted so much of 
 his valuable time to aiding the dispensation of jus- 
 tice in behalf of the working man. Regrettable as 
 was the awful crime," it offered as a slight compen- 
 sation "the remarkable demonstration of interest 
 in public affairs by so busy and important a man as 
 the Honorable Mr. Hennessy, of New York," whose 
 interest in the working-man in general, and the "fa- 
 therly interest" which he took in the men employed 
 by him on his large contracts, were in the opinion of 
 the editor worthy of special praise and emulation.
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 143 
 
 Quoth the editorial: " While the circumstances 
 that brought Mr. Hennessy to B ... were most 
 deplorable, our citizens are to be congratulated on 
 the opportunity thus afforded to become more inti- 
 mately acquainted with one. of the most striking 
 figures of our great metropolis. Few men command 
 such respect and admiration for their sterling quali- 
 ties, as does the Honorable Thomas Hennessy, a 
 statesman and public- spirited citizen of whom New 
 York may well be proud. ' ' 
 
 The editor wound up his flattering tribute to ' ' one 
 of the nation's truly great men," by intimating that 
 the "gubernatorial chair" at Albany long had been 
 yearning Hennessyward, and expressed the hope 
 that the great man finally would " sacrifice himself 
 on the altar of patriotism and, yielding to the solic- 
 itations of his host of friends," consent to occupy 
 said chair. 
 
 Being taken seriously and gravely quoted by cer- 
 tain metropolitan papers, the editorial created con- 
 siderable excitement in New York's underworld. 
 Visions of the displacement of the high-brow grafter 
 by the respectable crook so crowded the dreams of 
 the denizens of gang-land, that their nights were peo- 
 pled with fairies turning the very cobbles of the 
 pavement into diamonds, and their days were full of 
 rainbows and pots of gold. As "Limpy Joe" 
 Schintzler expressed it : 
 
 "De gang '11 have some pull, b'lieve me, an' every 
 right guy '11 get his bit, w'en de Boss gits up ter 
 Albany." 
 
 Being one of Five Points' heroes, since a "har- 
 ness bull" put his right leg out of commission with 
 a regulation-38, one night when he was caught 
 1 * sticking up a lush ' ' and had ' ' lammed, ' ' not unwise-
 
 144 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ly, but too slowly, Joe's sage prediction was received 
 with loud and appreciative acclaim. 
 
 Nobody laughed except Bull Hennessy himself. 
 He never had read JEsop, but nevertheless, the polit- 
 ical fox couldn't fool him. He knew that he could 
 do everything but sing that part of the political 
 chorus, and announced to all and sundry that he 
 never could be cajoled into dropping a real good 
 piece of political cheese to provide a dinner for the 
 opposition fox. The gang, however, set this down 
 as an evidence of modesty on his part. 
 
 Each suggestive visit that Mr. Hennessy made 
 to B . . .in the furtherance of his zealous at- 
 tempts to aid justice in attaining her ends, was hailed 
 with repetitions by different persons of the warm 
 eulogies that had been heaped upon him. 
 
 On one of these visits Mr. Hennessy took occa- 
 sion to secure an introduction to the Reverend Ezek- 
 iel Perkins, the rector of B . . .'s most fashion- 
 able church. Like many of his cloth, the reverend 
 gentleman was of the earth earthy and realized that 
 certain material advantages might accrue from ac- 
 quaintance with the Boss, hence, when he assured 
 that worthy that he was delighted to meet him, the 
 clergyman really did not compound a felony with 
 his conscience, although the Boss subsequently said 
 that the "gospel sharp wasn't no slouch at throwin' 
 the bull-con." 
 
 The conversation between Hennessy and the Rev- 
 erend Perkins was rather brief, because of the pauc- 
 ity of topics of mutual interest. The Boss never had 
 sought the society of people of the upper world who, 
 perchance, might yearn to save his soul or improve 
 his mind, while the clergyman was not wont to dig 
 very deeply into the lower social strata in quest of
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 145 
 
 souls that really needed salvation. The Boss re- 
 garded "the man above" as a fellow who always 
 had his price, and the reverend gentleman was born 
 too soon to follow the advice of that genial philoso- 
 pher, Mr. George Ade, who said: "In uplifting the 
 masses, get underneath." 
 
 There was no common ground on which Hennessy 
 and the preacher could meet, save this : In the course 
 of the conversation the Boss delicately intimated that 
 it really was too bad that the good citizens of B ... 
 had not endeavored to soften the heart of the 
 man who was awaiting trial for the murder of that 
 poor Italian laborer, whom, Mr. Hennessy, had put 
 upon the railroad construction job and thus inno- 
 cently sent to his death. Here the Boss heaved a 
 hypocritic sigh so deep that it agitated the very 
 bowels of him, inspiring a reciprocal and equally 
 sincere responsive sigh on the part of the Reverend 
 Perkins and making the clergyman's duty as clear 
 as day. 
 
 "Ah! My dear Mr. Hennessy, it remained for 
 you, a layman, to point out to us the pathway of 
 duty," replied the clergyman, rolling his eyes heav- 
 enward. "We have been er, most remiss, my dear 
 sir, most remiss. I myself shall call upon the pris- 
 oner and do my er, feeble best, to guide his feet into 
 the paths of repentance and er, of peace. I thank 
 you from the bottom of my heart, Mr. Hennessy 
 from the bottom of my heart, sir, I thank you, for 
 thus kindly reminding me of er, my inattention to 
 the call of professional duty." 
 
 To give the devil his due, it must be confessed that 
 neither Mr. Hennessy nor the Reverend Perkins was 
 favorably impressed with the other. They vied with 
 each other, however, in singing their mutual praises,
 
 146 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 whenever the occasion was auspicious and the prais- 
 es likely to bring forth fruit. But politics ever has 
 made strange bedfellows, and a combination of 
 church politics and the ordinary or garden variety 
 might have been expected to make a most incongru- 
 ous, even if effective, combination. 
 
 The clergyman took occasion the following morn- 
 ing to call upon the prisoner. Parkyn received him 
 cordially enough and listened politely to his pre- 
 liminary remarks upon the weather a topic of great 
 interest to a man in jail but before the clergyman's 
 visit was concluded, the two men were decidedly at 
 loggerheads. 
 
 For a time the clergyman went along swimmingly 
 with his tender offices of consolation and fine dis- 
 play of sympathetic interest which he did not feel 
 any more than a phonograph feels the words that 
 flow through it. Indeed, the comparison is hardly 
 just to the phonograph, for the sounds that emanate 
 from it under the tracery of the needle are a me- 
 chanical reflex of impressions that really have been 
 made upon the cylinder. If, however, it should be 
 contended that the comparison is fair enough, be- 
 cause the impression made upon the wax goes no 
 deeper than the surface, one would be constrained 
 to agree. 
 
 "I trust, my dear young friend," bleated the Rev- 
 verend Perkins, tentatively launching out into deep- 
 er water, "that you will meet the ordeal of your 
 trial with er, Christian faith and fortitude." 
 
 "I'll do my best, sir, to meet it with fortitude of 
 some kind," replied Parkyn. "I am not, however, 
 a professed Christian, and I fear that the conditions 
 with which I am faced are not likely to change me in 
 that respect."
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 147 
 
 "Am I to understand, my dear young friend, that 
 you really are not a Christian?" asked the clergy- 
 man, apparently horrified. 
 
 " Precisely, and I am not going to be frightened 
 or bullied into an expression of faith in something 
 in which I do not believe, ' ' replied the prisoner dry- 
 ly; "I may not be made of hero stuff, but I'm not 
 exactly a coward, sir. ' ' 
 
 "What! Do you mean that you are a a free- 
 thinker you, a young man on the threshold of er, 
 life?" 
 
 "Yes, that is exactly what I am, a free-thinker 
 and I began young. I wish," continued the young 
 man, bitterly, "that I could believe you to be right 
 about the threshold of life, but I'm afraid that I may 
 be on the threshold of something quite different." 
 
 "But, my dear sir, now is the accepted time er, 
 for you to turn your thoughts heavenward. Believe 
 in Jesus, my dear young friend, and your soul will 
 be filled with the peace and comfort that can come to 
 you in no other way. ' ' 
 
 "I believe that Jesus was a great and good man, 
 Mr. Perkins, which is as far as I can go with you 
 in that direction and that is hardly what you 
 want," replied Parkyn. "But," he went on, gloom- 
 ily, "I fancy that confidence in my lawyer would help 
 me more in the matter of facing the ordeal I am to 
 meet. Be that as it may, however, I shall have to 
 ask you to excuse me from entering into a dis- 
 cussion of spiritual matters. I respect your right 
 to your personal views of such things, but I claim 
 the same right myself." 
 
 "Am I to understand then, that you er refuse 
 the kind offices of er, the church?" 
 
 "Since you put it that way, yes," rejoined the
 
 148 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 prisoner. "Nor do I see how I consistently could 
 do otherwise. So long as my mentality is intact, 
 I shall entertain the same views in trouble that I do 
 out of it. My views may be wrong, but they are 
 quite as likely to be sound as any I might be stam- 
 peded into by fear." 
 
 "Young man," said the clergyman, coldly, rising 
 and preparing to take his leave, "I am not surprised 
 that you have come to this. Your obduracy shocks 
 me. You display a hardness and lack of amenability 
 fo religious counsel that are positively horrifying. ' ' 
 
 "I am truly sorry if anything I have said has 
 ruffled your feelings, sir, but I can not stultify my- 
 self by a pretense of belief in anything that does 
 not seem to me to be based upon logical premises. 
 If you sincerely wish to help me, why not try and 
 pound some sense into the heads of those idiots upon 
 whose testimony I am imprisoned for a murder I 
 did not commit. Supposing you intercede with 
 God," he continued, satirically, "and see if you 
 can't get Him to inspire those witnesses with a clear 
 vision of the events of that awful night when that 
 poor Italian was killed. Your intercession might in- 
 duce the Almighty to undo the mischief that has 
 been done me with His full knowledge and consent." 
 
 Here, apparently, was a magnificent opportunity 
 for a theologic argument, but the prospect did not 
 seem alluring to the Reverend Perkins. On the con- 
 trary, he appeared somewhat perturbed and ill at 
 ease. His face grew red and his eyes actually bulged 
 with his violent efforts to suppress the angry emo- 
 tions which so ill become a gentleman of the cloth. 
 
 "I will bid you good morning, sir," said the 
 clergyman, stiffly, when he finally recovered his
 
 CEEATING AN ATMOSPHEEE 149 
 
 self-possession sufficiently to permit him to speak 
 with something of his wonted dignity. 
 
 1 ' Good morning, ' ' returned Parkyn, apathetically. 
 
 The Reverend Perkins departed in high dudgeon. 
 The rejection of his pious offices hit him hard. He 
 did not wait for the jailor to close the door behind 
 him, but slammed it shut with a vicious bang that 
 plainly said, "Get thee behind me, Satan !" 
 
 As the huge key turned in the lock with a creaking 
 sound and the rusty bolt shot into place, the prisoner 
 wearily exclaimed : 
 
 "There are worse things than being alone, even 
 in jail!" 
 
 The following Sunday the church over which the 
 Reverend Ezekiel Perkins presided was, if possible, 
 even more crowded than usual with the elite of 
 B . . . The congregation comprised a large part 
 of the wealth and fashion, such as it was of the 
 thriving town, while, as for culture, there were many 
 of the elect who claimed that their pastor had a cor- 
 ner on that particular commodity. 
 
 The Reverend Perkins was the beau ideal of fash- 
 ionable clergymen. He had the gift of fervid, sonor- 
 ous oratory, which, combined with paucity of ideas 
 and a verbal flux, is very taking with persons who 
 mistake noise for argument and dogmatism for truth. 
 In the minds of his devotees, the holy man occupied 
 a place which would have made team-work by Soc- 
 rates, Plato, Cicero and Demosthenes sound like a 
 Salvation Army street-corner exhortation. As for 
 such moderns as Talmage and Beecher, these weak- 
 lings were not to be mentioned on the same page of 
 biography with the Reverend Ezekiel.
 
 150 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 On this particular Sabbath morning, the reverend 
 doctor was especially eloquent and convincing the 
 more so as he had gone far afield for his theme and 
 spoke upon "Our duties as citizens of a Christian 
 community.*' 
 
 He waxed especially eloquent over "the duty of 
 protecting the dear ones at home and upholding the 
 integrity of that noble institution, the family. 
 
 "And the dear little children, those bulwarks of 
 our nation we should remember them, and cherish 
 them, and guard them, and save them for our great 
 and glorious country, by bringing them into the 
 church the only laboratory in which citizens worthy 
 of the name ever can be made. 
 
 "And those who have wealth, and those who have 
 culture, and those who have education, and those who 
 have social position, should remember the poor and 
 the ignorant, and the sinful and the down-trodden 
 and be mindful that they too, have rights which ev- 
 ery just man is bound to respect and conserve, and 
 protect and guard." 
 
 The Reverend Perkins now soared into the ora- 
 torical empyrean and recklessly plucked sputtering 
 rhetorical stars wherewith to garnish his discourse, 
 until it resembled an evening display of fireworks 
 on the Fourth of July. His audience was on the 
 very heights of emotional exaltation when he began 
 gently sliding down to earth and spoke in awed, 
 throaty, "gargling" tones of the "recent frightful 
 murder" that hai been "committed almost at our 
 very thresholds." 
 
 He spoke fervently of the "menace to society" 
 which the "misunderstanding of the well-to-do by 
 the working-man" so often brought about. 
 
 "We all are most deeply concerned with the wel-
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 151 
 
 fare of the honest working-man the bone and sinew 
 of our social system, and we all wish, for him, pros- 
 perity and comfort and happiness. Alas! that he 
 cannot always understand." 
 
 The despairing sigh emitted by the fountain of 
 pious eloquence at this point duly impressed his 
 auditors with the density of the working-man's per- 
 ception. 
 
 The clergyman now spoke of the recent strike. He 
 was per-fervid in his remarks at this point. The 
 cockles of his heart always warmed when he thought 
 of the railroad and steamboat passes that were so 
 snugly ensconsed in the wallet which lay in his left 
 breast pocket, close to the heart aforesaid. 
 
 "The railroads, those great arteries of trade and 
 progress, those pioneer agencies that so steadily ex- 
 tend the frontiers of civilization the railroads! 
 What could we do without them ? How many thous- 
 ands of honest folk are housed, and fed and clothed 
 and educated by those great philanthropic institu- 
 tions, the railroads!" 
 
 The reverend doctor was quite sure that railroad 
 strikes were "due to a misunderstanding and lack 
 of appreciation of the beneficences of those noble 
 institutions, the railroads, on the part of the per- 
 sons who were most directly benefited by them." 
 He also was sure that the time soon would come 
 when God would "inspire the working-man with a 
 more intelligent understanding of the benevolence 
 of capital capital, which is so indispensable to all 
 enterprise and progress. ' ' 
 
 The recent murder of "an honest laborer" on the 
 New York Central was especially deplorable because 
 such incidents were "used by unprincipled men to 
 widen the breach between capital and labor. ' ' And
 
 152 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 to think that the man who then was lying in prison, 
 awaiting trial for the awful deed, was "a man who 
 had enjoyed all the advantages which education and 
 social opportunities could give ! What an awful ex- 
 ample for the upper classes to set for the toiling 
 millions ! ' ' 
 
 "Think," he quavered dramatically, his voice sur- 
 charged with emotion, " think of the dear wife and 
 little ones who, somewhere on the vine-clad slopes 
 of sunny Italy, await the coming of that dear hus- 
 band and father who lies cold in death and will re- 
 turn no more. What a dreadful burden that dear 
 family must be on the conscience of him who com- 
 mitted the awful deed ! ' ' 
 
 To be sure, the clergyman had not investigated 
 the antecedents of the late Giulio Maggioli, who was 
 an unmarried man, plus, but oratorical license cov- 
 ers a multitude of misstatements, and too close 
 scrutiny of the dead man's history would have 
 spoiled its effect. 
 
 The reverend orator now proceeded to depict in 
 most forbidding colors the attitude of the accused 
 man toward religion. Never, in all his professional 
 career, had he met a person "so obdurate or so sac- 
 rilegious," as the man who was "awaiting trial for 
 murder" in the county jail at B . . . 
 
 "But," the clergyman hypocritically cautioned his 
 hearers, " we must not allow our desire to vindicate 
 the law and punish the guilty, to interfere with 
 our sense of justice." 
 
 At this point Dr. Perkins caught sight of Boss 
 Hennessy, who was sitting in the rear of the church 
 listening with great interest to the clergyman's flow 
 of eloquence. This was the preacher's cue for sev- 
 eral minutes of oratorical pyrotechnics, eulogistic
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 153 
 
 of "one of New York's most distinguished citizens, 
 temporarily sojourning in our midst." 
 
 The reverend doctor especially eulogized the in- 
 terest which that great citizen, Mr. Hennessy, dis- 
 played in "his desire to see justice meted out to him 
 who had so cold-bloodedly, 50 ruthlessly, so barbar- 
 ously, so relentlessly, so suddenly and without warn- 
 ing, sent the poor workman to meet his God. ' ' This 
 interest on Hennessy 's part the clergyman accepted 
 as final and conclusive proof of the tender concern 
 which "the great, and the wealthy, and the power- 
 ful" entertained for "the poor, and the down-trod- 
 den, and the toiling masses of the land." 
 
 The reverend gentleman now prayed a most ur- 
 gent prayer, in which he implored God to bless ev- 
 erybody who, in his estimation, was worth saving, 
 from "that dear family in sunny Italy," to the 
 officers of the New York Central, and from the 
 State's Attorney, to that good and great man, Mr. 
 Hennessy. He did not forget the poor, and also 
 condescended to ask God to bless the President of 
 the United States ! 
 
 It was noticeable that the preacher did not ask 
 God to bless the unfortunate man who was lying in 
 the county jail. He did not forget him, however, 
 but asked that his heart be softened and his ear 
 made receptive to the teachings of Christianity. 
 
 Mr. Hennessy was so moved by the sermon and 
 the prayer following it that he ostentatiously de- 
 posited a twenty dollar bill upon the plate. The 
 Reverend Ezekiel, from his point of vantage in the 
 pulpit, did not fail to note the great man's liberal- 
 ity. The sight gave him much joy, and he rubbed 
 his palms together in unctuous satisfaction. 
 
 At the conclusion of the services, the lambs, the
 
 154 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 sheep, the goats and the wolves of the congregation 
 filed solemnly out of the church, their faces set in 
 the placid contentment of the belief that, with the 
 careful and explicit instructions given the Lord by 
 their able pastor, He could not fail to comprehend 
 His duty. The fervent supplications of the Rever- 
 end Perkins could not but move God's compassion 
 for the special benefit of those whose intermediary 
 he was that Sabbath morning. The country, they 
 felt, was secure for had not their pastor blessed 
 the President? As for that family in Italy, they, too 
 were safe. 
 
 The next issue of The Clarion gave considerable 
 space to a report of the sermon of that " eloquent 
 divine, Dr. Ezekiel Perkins. ' ' The sermon also was 
 featured in the editorial columns, the editor embrac- 
 ing the opportunity- to rehash his previous comments 
 on the murder and the individual who was "await- 
 ing trial for the awful deed." The editorial made 
 an especially strong plea for the pulpit as a popular 
 educator, and felicitated the town of B . . .on 
 the fact that so enlightened and progressive a man 
 as the Reverend Dr. Perkins occupied so prominent 
 a pulpit and exercised such a "powerful influence in 
 up-lifting the masses and moulding public senti- 
 ment." 
 
 The reverend doctor's remarks regarding the mur- 
 der were quoted verbatim. Great stress was laid 
 upon the duty of the commonwealth in the matter of a 
 fair and impartial trial. This, the editor felt con- 
 fident, was a matter in which the town of B ... 
 was greatly to be congratulated. Judge Wilson, 
 1 ' our eminent jurist, ' ' before whom the case was to
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 155 
 
 be tried, was as noted for "the fairness and impar- 
 tiality" with which he dispensed justice as he was 
 for his "profound knowledge of the law." As for 
 Mr. Sharpies, "our eminent State's Attorney," he 
 could at all times "be relied upon to do his duty." 
 The accused man was especially fortunate editori- 
 ally in being arraigned by one so eminently fair, 
 and still more to be congratulated on the circum- 
 stance that his case was to be tried before "so just 
 and learned a jurist. ' ' 
 
 The editorial was especially concerned in advising 
 the citizens that they must withhold judgment as to 
 the guilt of the prisoner and not allow their minds 
 to become prejudiced, notwithstanding the heinous- 
 ness of the crime of which he was accused. Nor 
 should they allow the callosity of heart which he 
 had exhibited toward "the kind religious offices 
 tendered by the Reverend Perkins, to bias their 
 judgment of the prisoner's guilt." Not only the 
 judges and the officers of the court, but the entire 
 public at large should regard the approaching trial 
 with fair and open minds. 
 
 The editor again took occasion to laud Mr. Hen- 
 nessy, "that great man who once more is in our midst 
 on his public-spirited mission of furthering, so far 
 as lies in his power, the ends of justice. ' ' 
 
 Here followed a lurid recapitulation of the killing 
 in all its details, which adroitly suggested to the 
 reader the impression that the fracas between the 
 workmen had been deliberately planned by a nat- 
 urally desperate character for the purpose of en- 
 abling him to commit cold-blooded murder. 
 
 This part of the editorial was read over by Boss 
 Hennessy with the feeling that even a "lobster"
 
 156 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 like the editor of The Clarion, could tell the truth 
 without reserve or malice aforethought, and with 
 perfect safety to the parties most interested, so long 
 as the aforesaid truth was merely the haphazard 
 drivel in which some editors are wont to indulge. 
 He shrugged his shoulders suggestively, however, 
 as he thought how significant the editorial might 
 have been if supported by a knowledge of the real 
 facts. 
 
 The details of the coroner's inquest and the ver- 
 dict also were rehashed by the paper, said details 
 being made as gruesome as the editor's knowledge 
 of emotion- stirring adjectives permitted. 
 
 Between The Clarion's editorials, the Reverend 
 Ezekiel Perkins' sermon and the subtle influence 
 of Boss Hennessy, a proper ethical attitude to- 
 ward the prisoner on the part of B ... and its 
 environs was reasonably well assured. Not that 
 these influences were absolutely essential to the cre- 
 ation of the desired impression. The citizens of 
 H . . . County had not forgotten the original report 
 of the coroner's inquest on the body of the slain 
 Italian. With this still fresh in their minds anything 
 further really was supererogation. Having been 
 told who the guilty man was, there was no difficulty 
 in surrounding themselves with the atmosphere of 
 "open-mindedness" which was so essential to a fair 
 and impartial trial of an accused person by a jury 
 of his peers. 
 
 So favorable to fairness and open-mindedness was 
 the atmosphere of B ... that people began to 
 wonder if the jail was sufficiently secure to hold a 
 criminal so desperate and hardened as Parkyn. The 
 strongest doors and most intricate locks had been
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 157 
 
 insufficient to hold characters far less desperate than 
 he. Doors and windows in B ... came to be 
 locked with extra care, whilst in the country-side 
 round about, locks and bars were affixed to doors 
 that never before were locked or barred. No curfew 
 was necessary to hustle the children in at night. 
 They went to bed right after supper, and the young- 
 ster who did not dream that the awful criminal in 
 the county jail had broken out and was " after" 
 him, was envied by his fellows. 
 
 Young Parkyn was duly cognizant and apprecia- 
 tive of the efforts of The Clarion, the preacher and 
 Boss Hennessy in preparing an atmosphere for his 
 case. He was permitted, after a grave consultation 
 between the jailer and the State's Atorney, to read 
 the papers as freely as he pleased. 
 
 The public prosecutor was not apprehensive that 
 the prisoner would derive from the papers any in- 
 forination that would prejudice the interests of the 
 state. Especially had he no objection to the editorials 
 of The Clarion and the wonderful sermons of the 
 Reverend Dr. Perkins. Indeed, the State's Attorney 
 rather enjoyed the thought of the somewhat dubious 
 consolation which the prisoner was likely to derive 
 from such literature. 
 
 Mr. Sharpies, be it remarked, disliked young Par- 
 kyn for reasons other than those incidental to his 
 own official position and his duty as a citizen. Very 
 much against his will the lawyer instinctively rec- 
 ognized in the prisoner a man of birth, breeding and 
 education far superior to his own. This, as is not 
 rare with certain small natures, aroused in him a 
 spirit of resentment. 
 
 In the opinion of the State's Attorney it was not
 
 158 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 enough that the young man was heart-broken over 
 his predicament; he rightfully should have been 
 crushed into worm-like humility. But he was not; 
 his indomitable spirit, pride, and his consciousness 
 of innocence shone through the goom of his tribu- 
 lations in a manner most disturbing to the self-con- 
 ceit of the really ignorant and uncultured Sharpies. 
 
 Immediately after Parkyn's incarceration in the 
 county jail, Mr. Sharpies enlisted the aid of the 
 jailer and undertook to put the prisoner through a 
 crude imitation of the ''third degree." The attor- 
 ney was desirous of appearing up-to-date, and the 
 opportunity of acquiring fame through inducing the 
 young man to confess the crime of which he stood 
 accused, seemed a short cut to the approbation of 
 the citizens of the county. 
 
 But he reckoned without Parkyn, who proved to be 
 a very bad actor in the little drama planned for his 
 entertainment. Instead of receiving the third de- 
 gree in the spirit of deep humility which should 'per- 
 vade the bosom of a really docile prisoner, he not 
 only resented the methods of his inquisitors, but 
 finally picked the jailer up bodily and threatened 
 to use him as a club wherewith to knock out the pros- 
 ecutor's brains. 
 
 Being inexperienced in metropolitan police meth- 
 ods and having no competent assistant at hand, the 
 State's Attorney and the jailer parted company with 
 the prisoner as quickly as they could without climb- 
 ing out of the window. 
 
 Oddly enough, the jailer was much kinder to the 
 prisoner after this episode, probably because he was 
 grateful to the young athlete for not having used 
 him for a club without due and proper warning,
 
 CREATING AN ATMOSPHERE 159 
 
 rather than as an expression of his gratitude for the 
 narrow escape experienced by Mr. Sharpies' brains. 
 
 Unlike the jailer, however, the State's Attorney 
 was not a good sport, and consequently would not 
 forgive the prisoner for his recalcitrancy. Sharpies 
 resented his failure to secure a confession as an in- 
 jury personal to himself, and consquently needed 
 no whip or spur to impel him to do his patriotic 
 duty of securing the conviction of Robert Parkyn at 
 the earliest possible moment. 
 
 Halloran soon discovered that Boss Hennessy was 
 busily engaged in creating sentiment adverse to the 
 young engineer and, without in the least knowing 
 the reason for his animosity, took occasion to re- 
 monstrate with him, in a deferential way, as became 
 one who was indebted to the great man for his own 
 position. 
 
 The Boss's reply was hypocritically impersonal 
 and consistent with his avowed belief in the pris- 
 oner's guilt and his pretended indignation at the 
 death of the unfortunate laborer. As Halloran ex- 
 pressed it to Parkyn, " Anybody 'd think that dead 
 Guinea was Bull Hennessy 's brother." 
 
 Through it all Hennessy 's attitude toward Hallor- 
 an was apparently friendly enough, but he neverthe- 
 less resolved to "break" the foreman if ever he got 
 -gay."
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 LABORERS WORTHY OF THEIR HIRE 
 
 The law permits the lowest and most desperate 
 criminal to have the benefit of counsel. He may se- 
 lect his own of such quality and quantity as his 
 money can buy. If he has no money he has counsel 
 thrust upon him, for the law is very jealous of its 
 reputation for fairness and makes a fine show of pro- 
 tecting it. Having regularly employed a prosecutor 
 to land the accused man in jail, or on the scaffold, 
 paying this functionary a premium of money and 
 glory if he succeeds, and this official having all the 
 power and resources of the state behind him, the con- 
 sistency and benevolence of the law is touching. 
 
 Out of the philanthropy of the law has sprung 
 the criminal lawyer, who for glory or for hire en- 
 deavors to antidote the prosaic venom of the law and, 
 by hook or crook often largely " crook " prevent 
 the public prosecutor from getting his pound of hard- 
 earned flesh. 
 
 It apparently did not occur to the Solons who 
 framed our criminal laws, that what was needed was 
 not a public prosecutor, but a public trial lawyer 
 to impartially investigate the merits of a case as 
 the representative of all the people of which the 
 accused is an integer. 
 
 Still jealous of its reputation for fairness, and 
 to relieve its conscience of the burden of the lawyer
 
 WORTHY OF THEIE HIRE 161 
 
 who prosecutes and the lawyer who defends, the 
 law has given us a jury of our "peers." 
 
 Exactly how this works out in a criminal trial is 
 not clear, unless it be that the average criminal is 
 ignorant, and the law feels obligated to prove its 
 point by endeavoring to exclude from the jury box 
 all but the deplorably stupid and ignorant. 
 
 What a thankless task is that of the criminal law- 
 yer ! We glorify, but never quite forgive him, if he 
 saves even his guilty client, any more than we for- 
 give that other anachronism, the public prosecutor, 
 if he does not prove himself worthy of his hire by 
 doing his full share in keeping our prisons full and 
 feeding victims to our halters and electric chairs. 
 
 Securing an attorney for his defense was a serious 
 problem for young Parkyn. The item of money was 
 a most important one. Until his assignment to the 
 railroad construction work at A . . ., his salary 
 had been so meager that he was unable to save much, 
 while as for his salary in his new position, he had 
 not yet had time to accumulate any savings. The 
 young man had no friends who could have aided him 
 if they would, save John Halloran, and that good- 
 hearted soul himself had very little of this world's 
 goods. 
 
 Lawyers, and especially good ones, cost money, 
 and it was obvious to both Parkyn and his friend 
 Halloran, that they had but little latitude in the 
 matter of securing counsel. Especially was it clear 
 that eminent lawyers from a distance were not to be 
 thought of. It was evident, therefore, that the ac- 
 cused man perforce would be compelled to rely upon 
 local talent.
 
 162 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Halloran was willing to go the limit in assisting 
 the young man, but even after borrowing several 
 hundred dollars to add to his own and Parkyn's 
 scanty resources, that "limit" was not much. The 
 noble fellow, however, determined to do the best he 
 could. 
 
 It was not easy to secure a lawyer in B ... 
 The atmosphere of public fair-and-open-mindedness 
 so assiduously cultivated by the various factors 
 mentioned in the previous chapter, offered difficul- 
 ties. 
 
 Defending a man accused of a heinous crime who 
 was pre- judged, was not likely to bring prestige to 
 a lawyer. Failure to acquit apparently was a fore- 
 gone conclusion and there was no particular glory 
 in that, while, as for acquittal, the man who secured 
 it probably would live to rue his success, if he de- 
 pended on his fees for a livelihood. There was not 
 enough criminal practice in B ... county to of- 
 fer very fat picking. 
 
 Halloran, however, finally found a lawyer among 
 the dozen or so in B . . ., who consented to take 
 the case. He was a new-comer, whose shingle had 
 been thrown to the breeze only a few months be- 
 fore. 
 
 Whether desperation at his briefless condition, the 
 probability of being assigned the case by the court, 
 or the modest fee tendered him by Halloran was the 
 consideration that impelled Mr. Arthur Hazelton to 
 take Parkyn's case, is an open question, but the fact 
 that he needed the money probably is a sufficient ex- 
 planation. 
 
 The lawyer's older and more experienced breth- 
 ren said that he was a fool. This explanation of his
 
 WORTHY OF THEIR HIRE 163 
 
 conduct in voluntarily taking the case might have 
 had more weight, were it not that young professional 
 men always have been stamped as fools the instant 
 they have bobbed up in competition with their eld- 
 ers. 
 
 Mr. Hazelton was the fortunate possessor of an 
 assurance which could not be either starved out, or 
 mitigated by any appearance of unpopularity. That 
 he was a great lawyer, he himself thoroughly be- 
 lieved he had been the valedictorian of his class. 
 Happily for the young man, he did not know that in 
 the cemetery of dead hopes the ambitions of thous- 
 ands upon thousands of valedictorians lie buried. 
 The dust and rust of the passing centuries are thick- 
 est on the yellowing pages of valedictory manu- 
 scripts. 
 
 Hazelton had a certain native cunning which, when 
 opportunity knocks at the door, usually brings suc- 
 cess if conditions are at all propitious. The public 
 is so fond of "phony" metal that it is eager to bite 
 at a bare professional hook. 
 
 Even when it is not backed by legal lore, cunning 
 is irresistible in the profession. An old metropoli- 
 tan lawyer of great fame and learning and a known 
 "jury fixer," who had amassed a large fortune in 
 his profession, once remarked, "I never in my life 
 tried but one case on the square, and I lost that 
 one. ' ' 
 
 Not to draw invidious parallels, it may be stated 
 that Hazelton, some years later, moved to a large 
 eastern city and finally became both rich and famous 
 his fame resting upon the same secure foundation 
 as did that of the gentleman who has just been 
 quoted.
 
 164 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The Honorable Mr. Hennessy learned that Parkyn 
 had retained counsel and promptly investigated the 
 merits of Mr. Hazelton. The result convinced the 
 Boss that, so far as legal acumen was concerned, 
 there was nothing to fear from that quarter which 
 point was not so very important after all, for even 
 if Hazelton had been wise as Solomon, the legal 
 mesh in which Parkyn was entangled would have 
 been too much for the young lawyer. 
 
 There was one little circumstance in connection 
 with the coroner's inquest, however, that disquieted 
 the Boss. He was not quite certain that the relative 
 calibers of the ball that killed the Italian, and the 
 pistol used by Parkyn, were not a source of danger 
 against which he should guard himself. Hazelton 
 might be a fool, but even fools have a way of " kick- 
 ing the fat into the fire. ' ' 
 
 The point in question might not be dangerous and 
 even if it were, might not be brought out at the trial, 
 but it would not do to take any chances, and Hennes- 
 sy believed in a sure thing. And so the Boss saw 
 Hazelton and, metaphorically, also "saw" the 
 modest fee the lawyer had received from John Hal- 
 loran for Parkyn 's defense and "went it several bet- 
 ter." 
 
 Money? Oh, no; the veteran politician was too 
 astute for that, and, what was quite as much to the 
 point, he was something of a bargain hunter. 
 
 The Boss took care that his acquaintance with 
 Hazelton began apparently in the most casual man- 
 ner in Mr. Barney Mulligan's saloon, a most conven- 
 ient place for those who had not met Boss Hennessy, 
 to become acquainted, not only with the great man 's
 
 WORTHY OF THEIR HIRE 165 
 
 personality, but with the power and influence he 
 wielded throughout the state and especially in New 
 York City. 
 
 It may be observed that Mr. Mulligan's political 
 knowledge and influence in politics were by no means 
 local. What he and some of his patrons did not 
 know about the Boss hardly would have been suffic- 
 ient for a theme for the Reverend Mr. Perkins. 
 
 Mulligan introduced the two gentlemen at a meet- 
 ing that was not so casual as it seemed, Hennessy 
 having beforehand expressed to the proprietor of 
 the doggery a desire to meet Mr. Hazelton. 
 
 The saloon-keeper may have drawn his own in- 
 ferences from this desire of the Boss's but he was 
 a wise politician and never delved into things which, 
 as he intelligently expressed it, took "no skin offen 
 me own nose." 
 
 The harmless-looking frame-up was easy. Mul- 
 ligan merely sent word to Hazelton that he would 
 like to have him call at his place on a little matter 
 of professional business. The lawyer stood not upon 
 his dignity nor the order of his going, but hastened 
 to carry his burden of legal lore to Mr. Mulligan 
 with the fell design of unloading some of it upon him, 
 at a price which he hoped would be agreeable to all 
 parties concerned. 
 
 After Mr. Hazelton had rendered a profoundly 
 learned and verbose opinion upon the merits of a 
 little difficulty his client had got into by "trowin' 
 de boots into a guy dat stuck up de house f er a round 
 o ' drinks, ' ' and had received a ten dollar bill there- 
 for, the eminent legal light was invited to "have 
 somethin' on de house."
 
 166 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Mr. Hennessy was on hand and was included in 
 the invitation. Hazelton was introduced to him in 
 a manner designed to impress the lawyer with the 
 idea that he was the most favored of men in being 
 permitted to meet the redoubtable Boss. As Hazel- 
 ton already knew the great man by reputation, this 
 was not difficult. 
 
 In the course of several rounds of drinks, in the 
 negotiation of which he displayed a roll of bills of 
 large denomination, big enough to choke the tradi- 
 tional horse, Hennessy adroitly took advantage of 
 an opening made for him by Mulligan, who casually 
 mentioned the approaching trial and felicitated the 
 accused man on having retained "the smartest law- 
 yer in th' hull d d county, be gobs!" 
 
 The Boss was quick to note the lack of enthusiasm 
 that underlay the bombast with which Hazelton 
 proclaimed the things he was going to do in the 
 coming trial, and immediately launched into an ex- 
 planation of his own interest in the affair, in which 
 the American eagle was made to scream most vocif- 
 erously over the woes of the honest working man 
 and the virtues of the great philanthropists who 
 gave them employment. The Boss waxed especially 
 wroth over the conduct of those who, by violence and 
 ill-advised counsel, created disturbances embroiling 
 capital and labor. And then he spoke of his love 
 for the toilers whom he employed on labor contracts, 
 and the awful shock he experienced from the recent 
 killing of one of his "best men" at A . . ., a 
 crime that was one of the most atrocious ever com- 
 mitted in the state of New York. 
 
 "There ain't no doubt in me own mind," he ob-
 
 WORTHY OF THEIR HIRE 167 
 
 served, pompously, "as ter who done the killing 
 an' I'm thinkin' there ain't much doubt what's goin' 
 ter happen. But of course," he continued, cajoling- 
 ly, "I'm glad he's goin' ter have a chance fer his 
 life by havin' a fine lawyer like you ter make the 
 fight fer him." 
 
 Mr. Hennessy soon bade the lawyer good night 
 and went his way, leaving the saloonkeeper to finish 
 the work he had begun. And Mulligan certainly did 
 his part. By the time Hazelton, a little the worse 
 for wear incidental to several more rounds of booze, 
 wended his way homeward, he was convinced that 
 the Boss's good- will was a short cut to wealth and 
 fame, while as for his friendship the lawyer grew 
 dizzy, or rather, dizzier, at the alluring prospect. 
 
 As the days went by, the suggestion of the ob- 
 vious which had been so cleverly implanted in the 
 mind of Mr. Hazelton, grew into the settled convic- 
 tion that a too vigorous or too clever defense of his 
 poverty-stricken client, who was foredoomed to con- 
 viction anyway, was not the royal road to the things 
 most desirable in life. In brief, it would get him 
 nothing. Inspired by this dominant idea, the lawyer 
 resolved to take the circuitous and broad highway 
 in his upward path to fame and spoils. 
 
 Before leaving for New York, Hennessy had a for- 
 mal interview with Dr. Danford, the coroner's phy- 
 sician, who made the autopsy on the body of Giulio 
 Maggioli. 
 
 The Boss adroitly submitted the matter of his 
 health to the doctor and discussed with him the 
 subject of his "bum kidneys," as gravely as though
 
 168 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the medical gentleman had been a top-notch metro- 
 politan consultant, listening to the physician's sage 
 advice with a deference and respectful attention to 
 the minutest detail that would have flattered greater 
 men than Dr. Danford. 
 
 The outcome of the interview was highly satis- 
 factory to both gentlemen. When they separated, 
 the physician, like Mr. Hazelton, had rosy visions 
 of future affluence and political and professional 
 advancement through the influence and patronage of 
 the Boss. What was more to the point, safely en- 
 sconed in the doctor's pocket was a substantial 
 roll of bills of goodly face value which, with an in- 
 sistency that really was unnecessary, the Boss had 
 thrust upon him at the conclusion of the professional 
 consultation. 
 
 Although Dr. Danford was inwardly astounded 
 that anybody ever should have discovered that his 
 services had a high market value, the distinguished 
 patient experienced little difficulty in convincing him 
 that he most highly appreciated the value of a busy 
 professional man's time. 
 
 It had not been easy for the doctor to eke out 
 an existence for his rather numerous family, to say 
 nothing of providing himself with the wherewithal 
 to buy "nose paint" for those whose influence he 
 regarded as necessary to holding down his political 
 job. He had been used to people slapping him on 
 the back in lieu of a fee and familiarly addressing 
 him as "Doc" a term which bears the same relation 
 to "Doctor," that "gent" does to "gentleman" 
 ever since he entered practice. When, therefore, 
 Boss Hennessy tendered him a gratuity of startling 
 proportions, he was constrained to agree with his
 
 WOETHY OF THEIR HIRE 169 
 
 patient's estimate of the value of professional know- 
 ledge. 
 
 Be it remarked that, despite the awful inward 
 struggle which the physician experienced in warding 
 off heart failure at the sight of so much real money 
 all in one bundle, he finally managed to subdue his 
 emotions sufficiently to enable him to accept it with 
 an air that suggested familiarity with large fees 
 which in no wise deceived Boss Hennessy. He knew 
 the breed; the political Doc long since had ceased 
 to be a novelty to him. 
 
 Following the professional "consultation" the 
 Boss incidentally led the conversation to the murder 
 of Giulio Maggioli. 
 
 After Dr. Danford had been duly impressed with 
 the great interest Mr. Hennessy took in the working 
 man in general, and in the fate of the unfortunate 
 Italian in particular, the Boss proceeded to business. 
 
 "Ye didn't show the ball at the inquest, did ye?" 
 he asked casually. 
 
 "No, I forgot it." 
 
 "Yes, so ye said at the time. But o' course the 
 bullet didn't cut any ice, anyhow. The case was as 
 plain as the nose on yer face it was a pipe." 
 
 The physician politely overlooked the somewhat 
 pointed allusion to the most salient and highly il- 
 luminated feature of his physiognomy and agreed as 
 to the "pipe." 
 
 "That feller Parkyn," continued the Boss, "ain't 
 got a ghost of a chance. If the witnesses that testi- 
 fied at the coroner's inquest stick to their stories at 
 the trial, there'll be nothin' to it, an' he'll get what's 
 comin' to him the murderin' scoundrel!" 
 
 * * Oh, there '11 be no falling down in the evidence, ' '
 
 170 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 replied the doctor. "It was too direct. Of course," 
 he added, "some of the witnesses might go astray 
 and" 
 
 "Git lost in the shuffle, eh?" interrupted Hennes- 
 sy. "Well don 't lose any sleep over that, Doc. None 
 of 'em ain't goin' ter git lost, unless they croaks." 
 The Boss's confident expression suggested that he 
 knew whereof he spoke. 
 
 "By the way, Doc," he said, blandly, "don't mind 
 if I smoke, do ye ? " 
 
 "Not in the least." 
 
 The Boss dove down in his pocket and produced 
 his usual handful of pudgy black perfectos. 
 
 "Have one, Doc?" 
 
 The doctor having thankfully accepted a weed, the 
 two lighted their cigars and settled down with an 
 air of greatly increased sociability and intimate mut- 
 ual understanding. 
 
 "Say, Doc," said Hennessy, suddenly, "I'd like 
 ter see that ball, if ye don't mind." 
 
 * ' Surely you may. ' ' 
 
 The doctor went to the drawer in his desk, unlocked 
 it, took from it the bullet, and handed it to the Boss. 
 
 The instant his fingers closed on the ball, Hennes- 
 sy knew that his instinctive impression of danger in 
 the direction of that small piece of lead was correct. 
 He glanced at it with the eye of experience as it lay 
 in his palm, and barely repressed a start of dismay. 
 The ball was a .32 and he recalled that the gun with 
 which Parkyn was accused of doing the killing was 
 plainly of a larger caliber a .38 ! 
 
 The Boss also recalled something else, almost eq- 
 ually to the point: Butch Harris had a peculiarity 
 that was a perennial source of jest in gang-land
 
 WORTHY OF THEIR HIEE 171 
 
 he carried a .32 "rod!" As Butch explained it, a 
 larger caliber not only wasted perfectly good lead, 
 but gave a fellow a lot of useless iron to pack around. 
 He hunted men, not deer, and at close range, and not 
 unreasonably claimed that when a fellow could skill- 
 fully handle a .32, a larger bore was superfluous. 
 Then, too, it wasn't so noisy as a larger caliber, a 
 point of most vital importance. The sensitive ears 
 of the "bulls" must be protected. 
 
 "All right, Butch," thought Hennessy, as he 
 looked at the ball, "we'll let it go at that for the 
 present." 
 
 "Funny, ain't it, Doc," observed the Boss, reflec- 
 tively, "how a little chunk o' lead like that'll fix a 
 feller's clock?" 
 
 "Not if you know anatomy," said the doctor, 
 pompously, serenely confident that the Boss was not 
 likely to discover his new medical adviser's own de- 
 ficiencies in that direction. 
 
 "When a lump o' that stuff strikes the right spot," 
 the doctor continued, "it's all off." 
 
 "Wish you'd let me take this for a few days, 
 Doc, ' ' said Hennessy, carelessly, reflectively balanc- 
 ing the pellet of lead in his hand. 
 
 "Oh, I couldn't do that !" protested the astonished 
 doctor, "you see, I " 
 
 Hennessy did not wait for the obvious explanation. 
 
 "Oh, that's all right, Doc. I'm hep to all that 
 dope," he replied, "but this yere bullet ain't goin' 
 ter git lost, an' nobody ain't goin' ter git wise that 
 I've got it. See?" 
 
 "But what?" 
 
 "Just want ter show it to a doctor friend o' mine 
 that's studyin' up such things," interjected Hen-
 
 172 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 nessy, forestalling the doctor 's question. l ' I '11 bring 
 it back to ye in a few days. I 've got ter see ye again 
 about them kidneys o ' mine, anyhow. ' ' 
 
 The Boss coolly picked up a piece of paper from 
 the doctor's desk, carefully wrapped the ball in it 
 and put the package in his vest pocket before the 
 doctor could have stopped him, even had he been 
 sufficiently collected to do so. 
 
 "Come on, Doc!" exclaimed Hennessy, familiarly 
 slapping the doctor on the back, and fairly rattling 
 his teeth; "lets go down ter the hotel and have 
 a snifter. Got ter be good ter them old kidneys o ' 
 mine, ye know. The right kind o' medical advice 
 comes high and," he said, significantly, "I've got 
 ter see ye again." 
 
 Now Dr. Danford was not essentially a vicious 
 man, nor absolutely callous to all sense of duty, but 
 he was an irresolute character. Boss Hennessy had 
 taken him by storm and, possession being nine points 
 of the law, held the whip hand. Then, too, juggling 
 with evidence for one interest or another, was not 
 so strange to the doctor as to be really startling. 
 Besides, how could he set about recovering the cor- 
 pus delicti without offending a profitable client a 
 man whose influence was likely to be immensely val- 
 unable, if he could but enlist it in his own behalf. As 
 for retaking the bullet by force, one glance at Hen- 
 nessy 's burly frame and bull-dog physiognomy was 
 enough to discourage any attempts in that direct- 
 tion. 
 
 And so, as many another weakling has done, the 
 physician took the direction of the least resistance 
 and most alluring prospective. 
 
 "You you'll be very careful of the ball, Mr. Hen-
 
 WORTHY OF THEIE HIRE 173 
 
 nessy and and you'll be sure to return it prompt- 
 ly?" he stammered. 
 
 11 Surest thing ye know," replied the Boss, again 
 slapping him vigorously on the back. 
 
 "Come on, me boy. Let's be movin', I'm so dry 
 I'll be spittin' cotton in a minute." He looked at 
 the clock on the doctor's mantel "An' I hain't got 
 any too much time before my train leaves." 
 
 Hennessy linked his arm in the doctor's and they 
 started toward the hotel. 
 
 At the door of the hotel the doctor said hesitating- 
 ly, "You you of course will not " 
 
 "Rap?" replied the Boss> reading the doctor's 
 
 thoughts. "What th' h 1 d'ye take me for? 
 
 Didn't I tell ye there wasn't anybody goin' ter git 
 wise? Fergit it, me boy fergit it!" 
 
 By the time Mr. Hennessy was compelled to bid 
 Dr. Danford good night, the two were vying with 
 each other in singing, "For he's a jolly good fellow, 
 which nobody can deny ! ' ' 
 
 As for the doctor's conscience, or the slightest 
 curiosity as to the Boss's intentions regarding the 
 ball, they now were negligible quantities in his cos- 
 mos.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 
 
 The stage Setting was complete for a legal drama 
 in which the law should doff its mantle of slow-mov- 
 ing majesty, and prove to a hitherto much abused 
 public that the law was "right on the job" and re- 
 solved to vindicate itself in short order. 
 
 The trial was set for a term of court which was 
 close at hand, and for an early day in that term. 
 Other and less spectacular cases were set aside "by 
 mutual agreement of counsel" to facilitate the hurry- 
 up prosecution of the case of The State vs. Robert 
 Parkyn. 
 
 This expeditious action was duly and favorably 
 commented on, not only by the local press, but by 
 the papers of the larger cities in the state, as an ex- 
 ample for the guidance of their own legal authori- 
 ties. This greatly redounded to the glory of B i ;> ' ( ; 
 and caused the citizens of the entire county to regard 
 with acutely swollen pride those great and faithful 
 public servants whose fidelity to duty had thus ag- 
 grandized them. 
 
 The Clarion blew sundry additional editorial 
 blasts designed to increase the chestiness of the 
 legal authorities and of the people of B . . ., and 
 the Reverend Ezekiel Perkins delivered another soul- 
 stirring discourse on the "Call to Civic Duty," 
 which in turn was reported in extenso and fulsome- 
 ly praised by The Clarion.
 
 SHOET SHRIFT 175 
 
 It was noticeable that the dominant note in the 
 utterances of both the Reverend Perkins and The 
 Clarion was not joy over the promise of a speedy 
 trial of the prisoner which would shorten his sus- 
 pense and the time of his imprisonment in the dingy 
 jail of B . . ., but the prospect of an immediate 
 vindication of justice and the punishment of a hard- 
 ened criminal with more advice to the public to 
 maintain an attitude of "open-mindedness." 
 
 All the conditions favored a "rush" job of legal 
 dispensation. The law had found another "goat." 
 With the exception of John Halloran there was no 
 one but his mother who was especially interested in 
 the accused. The few friends of the family who 
 still were loyal to Mrs. Parkyn, really believed the 
 young man guilty of murder, while pretending in the 
 presence of his mother to disbelieve it. 
 
 Halloran, as we have seen, stood by to the best of 
 his ability, but he was without influence and his 
 financial resources had been strained to the utmost 
 in retaining a lawyer for the young engineer's de- 
 fense. As Parkyn himself had neither political nor 
 social prestige, there was nothing to postpone the 
 trial or influence public opinion in his favor. 
 
 The law usually moves slowly through its jungles 
 and labyrinths of delays and haltings. This slow 
 progression possibly is responsible for the euphem- 
 ism, the "majesty" of the law. Majesty implies 
 something imperial, wise, all-powerful, greatly to 
 be admired and respected something to be obeyed 
 without question. To the minds of certain folk 
 who, whilst revering the spirit of the law, are not 
 blinded by the glamour and glitter of its machinery
 
 176 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 it sometimes also suggests an arrogant, pompous, 
 congested, tortoise-like thing, from which emanate 
 refined cruelties, flagrant injustice, piratical depre- 
 dations, stupid or venal deductions, asinine conclus- 
 ions and absurd application of facts, or even of mis- 
 information. 
 
 Noting these things we can better understand 
 the overt and anti-social acts of those poor, crack- 
 brained, impractical fools anarchists and dreamers, 
 "bull in the china shop" theorists who "buck" 
 the law. We also can better understand the psychol- 
 ogy of the many turbulent, unthinking men, who, ob- 
 serving the law's inconsistencies and inefficiency, are 
 even constrained to believe that, after all, Judge 
 Lynch sometimes builds wiser than he knows. 
 
 But the law has dignity, an admirable, mind-con- 
 cealing carriage of the body of which man has no mo- 
 nopoly. The owl, the eagle, the goose and the snail 
 all have dignity. But the owl can not see in the 
 light; the eagle preys upon the lambs; the goose 
 wabbles most ridiculously and the snail 
 
 The law being man-made, albeit behind it stands 
 the shadow of the ten commandments for the law 
 of man has devoured all but the shadow of the law 
 of God why quarrel with its deficiencies'? Having 
 set our despot upon the throne, let us bow the knee, 
 not only to his virtues, but also to all his vices, 
 crimes and defects thus rendering unto royalty that 
 which is royalty's. 
 
 "Great Caesar, we who are about to rob, or to be 
 robbed, to imprison, or to be imprisoned, to kill or 
 to be killed, salute you!" 
 
 How we boast of the despot's beneficence if he 
 does not turn his thumb down when our own lives
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 177 
 
 or worldly goods are hanging in the balance! If 
 only he would not sell himself to the devil, or to 
 politics, trusts and corporations which is much the 
 same thing. 
 
 The slow movements of the law known and dis- 
 respected of all men who live, or struggle to live, 
 under its protecting banner have many apologists 
 and defenders, but all excuses fall to the ground in 
 view of the fact that when the powers that rule us 
 so desire, they are perfectly capable of making most 
 strenuous and active "grand-stand" plays. 
 
 Lunatics who murder presidents and mayors, and 
 those who murder or assault men great in politics 
 and finance, get short shrift. 
 
 Backed by politics, popular excitement or public 
 opinion, the law can move swiftly and inexorably 
 enough to satisfy the most exacting tax-payer who 
 wants to know what he gets for his money. It is 
 then that the spirit of Judge Lynch touches the hem 
 of the royal robe of the law itself. 
 
 When a "goat" is found, he is disposed of with 
 indecent haste, greatly to the glory of the law, and 
 especially of some police authorities who welcome an 
 opportunity to hoodwink the tax-payer into the be- 
 lief that he gets value received. 
 
 The penniless and friendless man who is accused 
 of crime often is made to feel that the law can move 
 rapidly enough. Even if his trial is slow in coming, 
 the law has him in the toils, just the same. He lies 
 in jail friendless, bailless and forgotten until the 
 machinery of the law gets good and ready to take 
 cognizance of him, while his more fortunate, be- 
 cause richer or more powerful, and too often guilt- 
 ier, brother walks the streets a free man. Even if
 
 178 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the poor man should be found not guilty, he has no 
 redress. To him the law doth not give; from him 
 it taketh away. 
 
 Until the American Bastiles have fallen, let those 
 who, in default of bail, rot in vermin-infested jails 
 for months whilst awaiting trial, be duly thankful 
 that there are such holes to rot in, for it is thus 
 that we inculcate respect for the law and stimulate 
 the underdog to strive for better things. 
 
 The laborer for the killing of whom Robert Parkyn 
 was indicted, was of no particular importance to 
 anybody but himself, and was even an alien who had 
 not yet qualified for citizenship. He was merely 
 grist for the commercial mill in which great cor- 
 porations grind human life into huge salaries and 
 dividends into wealth of which the producer is 
 given only enough to keep body and soul together 
 and enable him to produce more wealth. This, per- 
 haps is unavoidable, for the giant corporations have 
 such an abundance of water in their veins that it 
 takes much of human life to nourish them. 
 
 Had one of his compatriots been indicted for kill- 
 ing Giulio Maggioli, there probably would have been 
 very little excitement and still less social reaction. 
 The law would have gone on its majestic way, serene- 
 ly conscious that it had all the time there was, and 
 that the time was all its own, not the tax-payer's. 
 
 But this was different. Here was an unexampled 
 opportunity to pose for the applause of the down- 
 trodden working-man and prove to him that every- 
 body was equal before the law something which he 
 had not often had occasion to suspect. The toiling 
 masses must be shown that men in positions of au-
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 179 
 
 thority, men like Parkyn, who had enjoyed both edu- 
 cation and opportunities and had no money could 
 not with impunity slay a poor working-man. 
 
 The time was most propitious for a play to the 
 gallery. The strike had thrown the fear of God 
 alike into the hearts of capitalists, politicians, cor- 
 porations and the lily-white fungi on the body social 
 who neither toil nor spin, but live on the wealth 
 garnered by their ancestry. With these influences 
 behind it the law could give full sway to its suddenly 
 awakened sense of duty to the public. 
 
 The most captious critic of the operations of our 
 criminal law could not have taken exception to the 
 manner in which Parkyn 's case was handled. The 
 trial really was a model for dispensers of justice. 
 Rarely does such unanimity of purpose pervade 
 the entire personnel of those on whom devolves the 
 unpleasant duty of vindicating, through the medium 
 of the criminal courts, the outraged feelings of so- 
 ciety. 
 
 Everybody and everything seemed to be especially 
 harmonious in the matter of speed. The manage- 
 ment of the case throughout was one of urgent haste 
 and quick dispatch. It was as if judge, jury and at- 
 torneys for both sides had agreed that, inasmuch as 
 conviction was certain anyway, it was best to hurry 
 up matters and get the thing over with as quickly 
 as consistent with due legal forms and customs. 
 
 The harmony between the public prosecutor and, 
 save the mark, "the attorney for the defense," 
 might have served as a lesson for those unenlight- 
 ened laymen who believe that opposing counsel al- 
 ways engage in a bitter oratorical battle over the 
 merits of the case. The exquisite courtesy that pre-
 
 180 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 vailed between the State's Attorney, Mr. Sharpies, 
 and the distinguished Mr. Hazelton, was worthy of 
 emulation by all budding scions of the legal tree. 
 
 The onlooker might have thought, and not unrea- 
 sonably, that the two eminent legal lights were striv- 
 ing to show how learned counsel can combine in a 
 harmonious effort to avoid all differences in the in- 
 terpretation of the law which might embarrass the 
 progress of justice. There was, to be sure, an out- 
 ward seeming of controversy in the matter of selec- 
 tion of a jury, but apparently this was merely a sop 
 thrown to the Cerberus of form and custom. 
 
 The material from which a jury finally was select- 
 ed was as satisfactory as any conscientious public 
 prosecutor could have desired. The most zealous and 
 ardent defender of society's interests would have 
 experienced difficulty in finding prospective jurymen 
 who would have been less promising from the stand- 
 point of the defense. 
 
 Mr. Hazelton was particularly fortunate in that an 
 outcome of the case disastrous to his client hardly 
 could be charged to ignorance or lack of enthusiasm 
 on the part of his attorney. His obvious defense 
 would have been that that particular jury had tried 
 the case and prepared a verdict long before its mem- 
 bers ever were gathered in by the venire. 
 
 It is proverbial that our legal system has tacitly 
 established the rule that any semblance of intelli- 
 gence or the slightest interest in human affairs is 
 conclusive evidence of unfitness for jury service. 
 From this view-point the venire in Parkyn's case 
 had been so carefully drawn that the ends of justice 
 of necessity must have been conserved. 
 
 The prospective jurors looked as wise as so many
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 181 
 
 Solomons. As Parkyn inspected them he wondered 
 how on earth the court managed to find so many 
 beards in a single county. Such a miscellaneous 
 collection of whiskers would have excited comment 
 in almost any civilized community. And colors ! It 
 would have been hard to conceive of a more incon- 
 gruous assortment of color effects in hirsute adorn- 
 ment. Not only was there a wide diversity of color 
 among individual beards, but many of them had a 
 variegated arrangement of hues that was all their 
 own. A number had an over-lay of yellow-brown 
 stain from tobacco juice that was as unesthetic as 
 it was democratic. Some even had enough stale par- 
 ticles of food clinging to their whiskers to give one 
 a fairly accurate idea of their dietary for several 
 days past. 
 
 When whiskers became unfashionable, a very im- 
 portant index of facial character was lost. The pa- 
 triarchal benignity and uncleanliness of the long, 
 flowing beard, the punctilious neatness of the Van 
 Dyke, the smug self-satisfaction of the bushy side- 
 whisker; the servility and cold-bloodedness of the 
 close-clipped mutton-chop, and the pious hypocrisy 
 and sternness of the smooth upperlip super-added to 
 the luxuriant beard of different forms, doubtless 
 have impressed all students of physiognomy. Had 
 such a student been in the prisoner's position, he 
 could have derived very little comfort from a survey 
 of the faces of the men who constituted the venire 
 drawn in the case of the State of New York vs. Rob- 
 ert Parkyn. 
 
 There was a predominance of smooth upper lips 
 associated with whiskers of the Uncle Sam "billy- 
 goat" type, or with the familiar "Rooney" whisker.
 
 182 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The occasional sweeping full beard and mustache in 
 the crowd merely served to make those smooth up- 
 per lips appear more austere and forbidding. 
 
 A small minority of the veniremen were clean- 
 shaven. These were mainly towns-people, who 
 seemed out of place among the hairy faces that sur- 
 rounded them. 
 
 The usual farce was enacted during the empanel- 
 ing of the jury. 
 
 Several men in the venire were excused on easily 
 procured medical certificates of genuine or imagin- 
 ary ailments, after which the real business of select- 
 ing a jury began. 
 
 All those examined had heard of the case; many, 
 however, asserted that they had not read of it. The 
 majority had formed an opinion. A few of the latter 
 asserted that their opinions could be altered by the 
 evidence, but from the grim lines in their faces the 
 merest tyro in physiognomies could have seen that 
 nothing short of evidential dynamite ever would 
 have altered their preconceived opinions. 
 
 It was noteworthy that a very small proportion 
 of those examined evidenced a desire to evade jury 
 service. The majority showed an eagerness to serve 
 that would have been refreshing to one familiar 
 with the difficulties that beset the courts of our large 
 cities in endeavoring to secure juries. 
 
 Whether patriotism or some less noble and more 
 practical sentiment inspired the veniremen is an 
 open question. It is possible that the promised 
 break in the humdrum of a monotonous rural exist- 
 ence had its influence. Then, too, there was the 
 rare opportunity of getting into the limelight of
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 183 
 
 publicity. Egotism is not altogether unknown, even 
 among honest folk in rural communities. 
 
 The prosecution apparently was willing to take 
 offhand, any twelve men from the venire save and 
 excepting several who did not believe in capital 
 punishment and who therefore might have the qual- 
 ity of mercy that is not * * strained. ' ' 
 
 It really was unnecessary to interrogate the ven- 
 iremen with the smooth upper lips on the question 
 of their attitude toward capital punishment. It was 
 not difficult to surmise what lay behind those inflex- 
 ible, steel-trap-like mouths. Most of these men would 
 have hanged their grandmothers on convincing evi- 
 dence of guilt of murder. 
 
 One poor, rheumy-eyed, trembling old man was at 
 once excused by the judge. The old fellow needed 
 no medical certificate to show that he was unfit for 
 duty. He protested, however, that his health was 
 good and that he was fully capable of competent 
 jury service. So strong was the spirit of this pal- 
 sied, senile patriot, and so evident was his probable 
 attitude toward offenders against the law of the land, 
 that the State's Attorney was fain to console him- 
 self for his rejection by the thought that the old fel- 
 low might not have lived through even a short trial. 
 
 Another venireman, who doubtless would have 
 been acceptable to the State's Attorney at least, 
 if not to the defendant 's attorney was so obviously 
 a half-wit, that the judge felt compelled to overlook 
 the fact that the man was a juryman to the manner 
 born, and excused him. 
 
 The next man examined was afflicted with an im- 
 pediment of speech. He was most expeditiously 
 discharged, to the great relief of all parties con-
 
 184 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 cerned. It was evident that if he were accepted and 
 any argument should arise during the deliberations 
 of the jury, the stutterer inevitably would delay the 
 game, and delay was a thing little desired by most 
 of the parties immediately concerned possibly even 
 by the accused, thanks to the horrors of the county 
 jail. 
 
 Still another man was plainly under the influence 
 of liquor and was dismissed with a sharp reprimand 
 from the judge. 
 
 There were in all not more than eight or ten chal- 
 lenges for cause by both sides. 
 
 The State's Attorney seemingly entertained a 
 prejudice against persons who had worked in any 
 capacity for railroads, although in the case in ques- 
 tion his reason was not easy to surmise. 
 
 Mr. Hazelton, for his part, made a fine show of op- 
 position to persons who were members of labor un- 
 ions. This display of interest on the part of counsel 
 for the defense was a showy play to the gallery 
 which deceived some people in the courtroom into 
 the belief that Hazelton really was conscientiously 
 working for his client. 
 
 Mr. Sharpies, however, smiled blandly as he 
 thought of the number of farmers included in the 
 venire who were not even interested in labor unions, 
 much less members of them. 
 
 As to the people of the town who had been sum- 
 moned, several of them were town bums and loafers 
 who took no active interest in the labor problem and 
 would have had some difficulty in paying tithes to 
 unions. Noting these men the State's Attorney 
 smiled again. 
 
 The defense challenged for cause three men who 
 previously had served on juries in murder trials.
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 185 
 
 Several veniremen were accepted who had served 
 on petit and grand juries and in various cases other 
 than criminal. Professional jurymen, however, 
 were not so much in evidence as they would have 
 been in a more metropolitan community. This ma- 
 terially lightened the labors of the court. 
 
 There were no peremptory challenges. Neither 
 side, apparently, was disposed to be captious, or to 
 take advantage of the opportunities provided by 
 law. This said much for the care with which the 
 venire was drawn. The collection of veniremen 
 was so homogeneous in appearance that the majority 
 of them might have been taken for blood kin. A 
 peremptory challenge would have served merely to 
 substitute one be-whiskered Solomon for another, 
 and thus to delay matters. 
 
 Probably not through inadvertence, but advised- 
 ly, two lone beardless individuals were accepted as 
 jurymen. One of these was the proprietor of the 
 general store in a near-by village, who had presided 
 over so many round-the-cuspidor sessions of public- 
 spirited citizens who were wont to congregate about 
 his stove and settle all momentous questions affect- 
 ing the prosperity of the nation, that he had come 
 to be considered an oracle. 
 
 Hiram Chase was short, fat and rubicund, with 
 a bald, shiny poll ringed about with a "moth-eaten" 
 gray fringe of hair, which seemed to be struggling 
 to descend his beefy neck in search of a hiding place 
 behind the stiff standing collar that he wore on all 
 state occasions. His nose was bulbous, and of a tinge 
 suggesting that it had been frosted from without and 
 alcoholized from within. His fishy eyes, shaded by 
 heavy, puffy lids that he seemingly could not open 
 without special effort, peering through a pair of
 
 186 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 heavy-rimmed spectacles gave his countenance an 
 expression of profound, owlish wisdom. 
 
 The contrast between the squatty, almost hairless 
 Mr. Chase and his gaunt, hairy, fellow- jury men was 
 as startling as it was amusing. He appeared to be 
 of a species different from his colleagues, and as he 
 sat there in the jury-box he resembled an over-sized 
 Brownie, surrounded by a lot of be-whiskered scare- 
 crows. 
 
 Whether because he was different, or because of 
 the oracular prestige he enjoyed, would have been 
 difficult to say, but his companions in the jury-box 
 were very deferential to Mr. Chase, who accepted the 
 deference shown him with the naturalness which 
 habit only can confer. As he squinted at the audi- 
 ence from behind his heavy lids and puffed out his 
 cheeks at the various telling points made by the at- 
 torneys, his appearance was most grotesque, sug- 
 gesting a bullfrog in an attitude of solemn reflection. 
 
 The last man accepted was an ignorant mulatto 
 who, despite his obvious density of mind and hairless 
 countenance seemingly was eminently satisfactory 
 to both sides. This juryman's mother, an unkempt, 
 slatternly, coal-black wench of immense proportions, 
 occupied throughout the trial a conspicuous place 
 in the front row of the auditors, where she divided 
 her time between snoring and gaping her adoration 
 of her cross-bred offspring in the jury-box. 
 
 During the entire program of the trial the jury, 
 to a man, appeared ineffably bored. Most of the 
 court proceedings seemed to them entirely super- 
 fluous. Even during the more or less dramatic per- 
 iods in the evidence, the jury evidently gave atten- 
 tion from morbid interest rather than because its
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 187 
 
 members believed that the matter in question had 
 any immediate bearing on the merits of the case. 
 At the conclusion of the interesting point, the jury 
 dropped back into its bored, lethargic attitude. A 
 few of the jurymen even appeared to resent the 
 dramatic periods as a disturbance of the dreamily 
 reposeful attitude they had assumed at the begin- 
 ning of their duties and which, had they not been 
 disturbed by superfluous oratory and argument, 
 might have been peacefully maintained to the end 
 of the trial. When thus rudely aroused to a sense 
 of their responsibilities, the injured expression of 
 these jurors was most appealing. 
 
 Just as the empaneling of the jury was about com- 
 pleted, Boss Hennessy appeared at the door of the 
 courtroom. He looked around and saw Dr. Danford 
 sitting near Mr. Sharpies. A moment later, the doc- 
 tor looked toward the door and met Hennessy 's 
 glance. With an almost imperceptible motion of his 
 head the Boss beckoned the physician to join him. 
 
 The doctor had been worrying considerably over 
 Hennessy 's failure to return the ball as he had 
 agreed to do, and was greatly relieved when he saw 
 his star patient's unattractive countenance peering 
 into the courtroom. He hastened to join the Boss, 
 who had moved away from the door and down the 
 hall and was standing near the main entrance to the 
 building. 
 
 "Hello, Doc!" greeted Hennessy, genially. "Did 
 ye think I'd thrown ye in the air?" 
 
 The physician enthusiastically grasped the Boss 's 
 hand. 
 
 "By Jove! Mr. Hennessy," he exclaimed, with
 
 188 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 indubitable sincerity; "I never in my life was so 
 glad to see anybody. I thought you sure had slipped 
 a cog somewhere." 
 
 "Nary a cog, Doc," replied Hennessy, "I was 
 keepin' tab all right. I didn't see any use in showin' 
 up 'till I was needed, an' besides, I had ter round up 
 them Guineas." 
 
 "But the bullet," whispered the doctor, "have 
 you?" 
 
 "Sure, Mike! Ye didn't think I'd fall down on 
 that, did ye?" 
 
 Dr. Danf ord looked furtively around and extended 
 an expectant hand. 
 
 "Oh, that little Joker's all right, Doc. I've got 
 it right here in me keck," and the Boss tapped his 
 trousers pocket. "I'll slip it to ye, bye an' bye. Come 
 an ' let 's have a drink. There 's plenty o ' time. ' ' 
 
 The two men repaired to the hotel across the street 
 and had several rounds of liquor. By the time they 
 returned to the courtroom, which they did separate- 
 ly, the physician was on very good terms with both 
 himself and with the world at large especially was 
 he on good terms with Mr. Hennessy. 
 
 As they discreetly parted at the door of the hotel, 
 the Boss handed the doctor a small package wrapped 
 in tissue paper. 
 
 "There she is, Doc, right side up with care." 
 
 Dr. Danford took the package, put it in his vest 
 pocket, thanked Mr. Hennessy and gave a pungently 
 spirituous sigh of relief. 
 
 Hennessy proved a true prophet regarding the 
 appearance at the trial of the Italians who testified 
 at the coroner's inquest. Only one of the five was mis-
 
 SHOET SHEIFT 189 
 
 sing, and as he was lying in Belleyue Hospital with 
 a stiletto-thrust through one of his lungs, received 
 at a little social event among his compatriots, the 
 Boss was unable to deliver him in time for the trial. 
 Several of the men who were wounded during the 
 fight, but who were not summoned by the coroner, 
 also were in court ready to testify. The Boss be- 
 lieved in giving good measure when he set about 
 rounding up witnesses. 
 
 Butch Harris entered the courtroom just before 
 Hennessy appeared at the door. He had come up 
 from New York on the same train with the Boss, but 
 they had held no communication en route. 
 
 As he sat waiting his turn on the witness stand, 
 Butch appeared ill at ease. He was not especially 
 apprehensive of danger to himself, but he was not 
 fond of the atmosphere of courts, and the sight of 
 judges and public prosecutors never had been pleas- 
 ing to his eye or conducive to tranquility of his spir- 
 it. He felt pretty well fortified, however, in his 
 role of star witness, more particularly as even the 
 Boss himself did not know exactly what happened on 
 the night of the murder. He realized that Hennessy 
 was likely to do some pretty shrewd guessing, but 
 under the circumstances that naturally was to be 
 expected. 
 
 Butch, had not taken his principal into his confi- 
 dence, for he felt that, although he had been em- 
 ployed by the Boss to do Parkyn, the less Hennessy 
 knew of the details of the killing of the Italian, the 
 better. The thug had not forgotten the manner in 
 which the Newark affair had been used upon him 
 by the Boss as a club for his intimidation on the oc- 
 casion of the frame-up at Black Bill's.
 
 190 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The Strangler had received by the underground 
 a liberal amount of money which he well knew had 
 come from Hennessy, but he realized that the Boss 
 could not be connected with the killing of the Italian 
 by any evidence whatsoever. The fates had been 
 very kind to Hennessy, and the job that he put up 
 on Parkyn had worked out in a manner as fortunate 
 to himself as it was unexpected. 
 
 There was just a suspicion in Butch 's mind that, 
 while in his cups, he had talked too freely to his 
 special female friend in New York. He subsequently 
 had "pumped" her most adroitly, and had been 
 unable to justify this suspicion, but the shadow of 
 it remained. He knew the risk to the crook that lay 
 in female companionship, and although he was quite 
 certain that, even if he had talked too much, there 
 was no immediate danger, the thought of even re- 
 mote danger did not add to the attractiveness of the 
 witness stand. 
 
 Hennessy caught Butch 's eye several times and 
 noting his henchman's uneasiness drew his own in- 
 ferences, which were merely confirmatory of the con- 
 clusions he already had formed. As he had quite 
 positive knowledge regarding the ball that slew the 
 Italian, Hennessy found his contemplation of Butch 
 highly entertaining. 
 
 Never was the pathway of justice smoother than 
 in the case of the Commonwealth of New York 
 against young Parkyn. The testimony was direct 
 and the statements of the witnesses as explicit as 
 could have been desired. 
 
 The four Italians reeled off their testimony with- 
 out a hitch. Not even their limited knowledge of
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 191 
 
 English obscured the evidence they submitted. Each 
 testified that he saw the accused fire the fatal shot. 
 Each of the witnesses also testified that he himself 
 was unarmed at the time of the murder and could 
 not have been responsible for any of the shots 
 fired during the fight. 
 
 The men who were wounded in the battle also were 
 ideal witnesses for the State. They were blissfully 
 ignorant as to how their hurts were received. They 
 might have shot or stabbed themselves, for aught 
 one could glean from their testimony. To their 
 credit be it said, however, that they did not each 
 and everyone lay their various hurts at Parkyn's 
 door. 
 
 Hazelton did very little cross-examining of any 
 of the Italians. He had neither enthusiasm nor loy- 
 alty to his client, but he was not utterly devoid of 
 common sense. He knew better than to try to con- 
 fuse the witnesses, while as for inducing them to con- 
 tradict themselves, that was out of the question 
 they were too well drilled, and what little English 
 they knew bore directly on the matter in hand. Then, 
 too, the interpreter who had been secured by the 
 court was a native born Italian, and could be relied 
 upon to protect the witnesses from any admissions 
 that might have shaken their testimony. 
 
 Although Hazelton 's discretion was due to his de- 
 sire to protect his professional prestige rather than 
 to conserve the interests of his client, his policy 
 nevertheless redounded to his credit in the minds 
 of some of the better informed persons in the court- 
 room. 
 
 Hennessy was one of the exceptional wise ones 
 whose admiration for Mr. Hazelton was not in-
 
 192 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 creased by his astuteness in handling the witnesses. 
 The Boss knew a thing or two, and chuckled inward- 
 ly. 
 
 Mr. Sharpies was placidly content. The witnesses 
 were ideal from his viewpoint, and he, of course, 
 took no chances of injuring his case by questioning 
 them further than was necessary. 
 
 Following the Italians came the star witness. 
 
 "William O'Connor," called Sharpies. 
 
 Butch Harris slouched forward, twisting his hat 
 in his tremendous hands and looking at the floor in 
 a hang-dog fashion which so exasperated Hennessy, 
 who was watching him closely, that he felt an almost 
 uncontrollable impulse to kick him as he passed 
 through the crowd. As Butch went up the several 
 steps leading to the witness-box he stubbed his toe 
 and nearly fell, knocking over the chair provided 
 for the witnesses and making a tremendous clatter. 
 
 The crowd tittered audibly at the awkwardness 
 of the witness, but the bailiff, a decrepit, one-eyed 
 fellow in a faded military coat bearing a Grand Army 
 button in the lapel, pounded vigorously on the clerk's 
 desk and the audience subsided into a quiet grin. 
 
 The witness having been duly sworn, Mr. Sharpies 
 proceeded with his examination. The crowd craned 
 its collective neck and cocked its ears attentively. 
 
 "What is your name?" 
 
 "William O'Connor, sorr," mumbled Butch. 
 
 "Louder, please!" commanded Sharpies. "Speak 
 up, so the jury can hear you. What is your name?" 
 
 Butch raised his eyes and caught the malevolent 
 stare and sneering smile of Boss Hennessy. He 
 straightened up with a jerk, scowled back at Hen- 
 nessy and roared 
 
 "William O'Connor, sorr!"
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 193 
 
 "I asked you to speak so the jury could hear you, 
 sir. The jury is just at your right, not in New York 
 City, and its members are not deaf, Mr. O'Connor," 
 said the prosecutor. 
 
 Several in the audience chuckled delightedly, but 
 quickly subsided under the fierce glare of the bail- 
 iff's lonely eye. 
 
 1 ' What is your business, Mr. O'Connor?" 
 
 "Oi'm a laborer, sorr." 
 
 ''Where were you last employed?" 
 
 "On the New York Cintral, sorr, at A ... 
 
 "Were you at A ... during the strike on the 
 20th of July last?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr, Qi was." 
 
 "Were you in the employ of the New York Cen- 
 tral at that time?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr," 
 
 * * Did you participate in the strike ? ' ' 
 
 "Do yez mane was Oi afther strikin,' sorr?" 
 
 "Yes, that's what I mean." 
 
 "Yis, sorr. Oi sthruck along with the rist of the 
 min." 
 
 "Was it a peaceful strike?" 
 
 "Paceful, was it? Shure an' it was as paceful 
 as a dove." 
 
 "Were you in A . . . on the night of July 27th 
 last?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr." 
 
 "Were the men still on strike?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr, they was." 
 
 "Mr. O'Connor, kindly state whether anything un- 
 usual occurred that night." 
 
 "Faith, an' there did that, sorr." 
 
 "What was the nature of it?" 
 
 "D'ye mane pfwat was it loike?"
 
 194 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Yes, that's exactly what I mean." 
 
 "It was wan hell of a fight, sorr." 
 
 The bailiff forestalled any expression of merriment 
 on the part of the audience by striking the desk a 
 resounding whack. 
 
 "Never mind the emphasis, Mr. O'Connor," said 
 the prosecutor. "Where did this fight occur?" 
 
 "In wan of the bunk-houses, sorr." 
 
 "Very good. Now, Mr. O'Connor, will you please 
 tell the court, and in your own way, exactly what 
 occurred. ' ' 
 
 "Well, sorr, Oi was afther walkin' down the road 
 toward the bunk-house, whin Oi heard a divil of a 
 row goin' on inside. Oi run towards the shack loike 
 th* ould Nick was afther me, thinkin' Oi'd thry to 
 sthop the fightin'. Just as Oi was goin' into the 
 bunk-house, the Superintendent, Misther Parkyn, 
 passes by me an' rushes into the mix-up." 
 
 "By the mix-up, you mean the fight, I presume, 
 Mr. O'Connor," interrupted Mr. Sharpies. 
 
 "Yis, sorr. There was h 'about a dozen o' them 
 blawsted bloomin' Dagoes a fightin' like bloody 'ell, 
 an'" 
 
 Butch caught himself just in time. His lapse into 
 his native dialect was not observed by anyone but 
 Hennessy, who half rose from his seat at the sound 
 of it, and by Halloran and the prisoner, who ex- 
 changed meaning glances. The State's Attorney 
 merely noticed Butch 's hesitancy and looked at him 
 curiously. 
 
 Halloran leaned over and whispered in Hazelton's 
 ear. The attorney shrugged his shoulders and ig- 
 nored the foreman's comment. 
 
 '.'Go on, sir," resumed Sharpies. 
 
 "Well, sorr," continued the witness, regaining
 
 SHOET SHRIFT 195 
 
 his equanimity, "Oi followed afther Misther Par- 
 kyn, thinkin' lie was afther tryin' ter shtop the fight. 
 The first thing Oi knowed, iverybody was a-shootin' 
 an* stabbin' loike the very divil." 
 
 "Did the prisoner at the bar, Mr. Parkyn, have 
 a pistol?" 
 
 "Y yis, sorr," replied the witness, with a fine 
 display of reluctance. 
 
 "Did the prisoner fire his pistol?" 
 
 "Y yis, sorr." 
 
 "Kindly tell what happened." 
 
 "Well, ye see, it was loike this, sorr. Wan o' the 
 min grabbed hold o' Misther Parkyn an' was push- 
 in' him across the flure, when all of a sudden the 
 superintendent takes a crack at him wid his gun an' 
 drops him deader 'n a nit, sorr." 
 
 "What was the name of the man whom you say 
 the superintendent dropped?" 
 
 Butch mopped his forehead with a not too recently 
 laundered handkerchief. 
 
 "Begorra, sorr, thim Guinea names is too hard for 
 me. It sounded like Jewelry Maggots, or the loikes 
 o' that." 
 
 The crowd snickered and the humorless bailiff 
 gave a smart rap with his gavel. 
 
 "Was the murdered man's name Giulio Maggio- 
 li?" continued the prosecutor. 
 
 "That's it, sorr," rejoined Butch, thankfully. 
 
 "You are sure that it was the prisoner that fired 
 the shot that killed Giulio Maggioli?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr." 
 
 "Did you see any weapons in the hands of the 
 men who were fighting, before the prisoner sprang 
 upon them?" 
 
 "N no, sorr."
 
 196 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Were you armed, Mr. O'Connor?" 
 
 ' ' Divil a bit, sorr. Oi 'm a paceable man, an ' don 't 
 loike gun-fightin', sorr." 
 
 Hennessy was all alive at this point and tried to 
 catch the witness 's eye. Butch, however, was decid- 
 edly on his guard. 
 
 "Did you see any weapon of any kind in the hand 
 of Giulio Maggioli?" 
 
 "No, sorr." 
 
 "Did you at any subsequent time see the body of 
 Giulio Maggioli?" 
 
 " Yis, sorr. Oi was at the inquest the coroner was 
 af ther makin ' on the Guinea, sorr. ' ' 
 
 "You may take the witness, Mr. Hazelton," said 
 the State's Attorney, blandly. 
 
 Hazelton plainly was nonplussed. He could see no 
 opening anywhere and realized that it would be im- 
 possible to give a cross-examination which would 
 show even the ear-marks of a battle in the interests of 
 his client. It was plain that anything he might bring 
 out would merely serve to clinch the damning evi- 
 dence already offered by the prosecution and em- 
 phasize the hopelessness of Parkyn's case. This 
 obviously would not be likely to enhance Hazelton 's 
 own professional reputation, and this consideration 
 was paramount in the attorney's mind. He was 
 about to dismiss the witness, as the easiest way out 
 of the predicament, when John Halloran, who sat 
 at his elbow, whispered a suggestion to him. 
 
 "Mr. O'Connor," asked Hazelton, "did you hear 
 any shots fired before Parkyn and yourself entered 
 the bunk-house ? ' ' 
 
 "Divil a shot, sorr." 
 
 "You are sure of that?" 
 
 "Yis, sorr."
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 197 
 
 "That will do, sir." 
 
 There was an expression of relief on Butch 's coun- 
 tenance as he came down from the witness stand 
 and awkwardly shambled back into the crowd. Mr. 
 Sharpies smiled significantly at the jury, who looked 
 as bored as could have been expected of men com- 
 pelled to listen to evidence which was mere superero- 
 gation. 
 
 "Ye cooked that Dago all right, me bucko," said 
 the Boss to himself as Butch passed him on his way 
 to his seat, "but we're not goin' ter chew the rag 
 
 over it. Things are in d d good shape, an' we'll 
 
 let it go at that. If ye ever get gay an' I wanter 
 put the screws ter ye, it'll be a pipe;" and he 
 chuckled to himself as he tapped the pocket in which 
 lay a small, battered pellet of lead. 
 
 "Dr. Danford," called the prosecutor. 
 
 The county physician took the stand and was 
 sworn, after which the usual preliminaries estab- 
 lishing the indentity, occupation and official position 
 of the witness were gone through with. 
 
 "Kindly tell the court, Doctor, whether on the 28th 
 of July last you made an autopsy at A . . .on the 
 body of Giulio Maggioli." 
 
 "I did." 
 
 ' ' State what you found. ' ' 
 
 "I found a gun-shot wound in the left side of the 
 chest. The ball had passed obliquely through the 
 chest, traversing the heart, and emerged at the back 
 of the right chest, where it lodged just beneath the 
 skin." 
 
 "In your opinion, Doctor, was the gun-shot wound 
 you have described the cause of Giulio Maggioli 's 
 death." 
 
 "It was."
 
 198 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "What was the immediate cause of death?" 
 
 "Shock and hemorrhage." 
 
 "Produced by the ball?" 
 
 * 'Yes, they undoubtedly were produced by the ball. ' ' 
 
 "Did you remove the ball?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "It it still in your possession?" 
 
 "It is." 
 
 "Kindly show it to the jury." 
 
 Dr. Danford took the ball from his pocket and re- 
 moved the paper in which it was wrapped. As he 
 did so his face paled, and his hand distinctly trem- 
 bled. When the bullet, completely divested of its 
 wrappings, finally lay in his hand, he gazed at it in 
 mute astonishment. The missile was a changeling 
 a. 38! 
 
 "Is the ball that you hold in your hand the identi- 
 cal one that you removed from the body of Giulio 
 Maggioli?" pursued Sharpies. 
 
 The witness gazed uncertainly toward Boss Hen- 
 nessy, who returned his gaze with an icily indiffer- 
 ent stare, and the doctor, as usual, took the course 
 of least resistance and least risk. 
 
 "Yes, sir, the very same." 
 
 "Has the ball been out of your possession at any 
 time since you extracted it from the body of Giulio 
 Maggioli?" 
 
 "It has not." 
 
 "What is the caliber of the ball, Doctor?" 
 
 "It is a. 38." 
 
 The prosecutor picked up the revolver that lay on 
 the table beside him and handed it to the witness. 
 
 "Have you ever seen that pistol before, Doctor?" 
 
 "I have."
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 199 
 
 ''When and where?" 
 
 "At the coroner's inquest on the body of Giulio 
 Maggioli at A . . .on the 28th day of July last. ' ' 
 
 "Was it offered in evidence at the inquest?" 
 
 "Yes, it was identified as the gun with which the 
 prisoner was accused of killing Maggioli." 
 
 "In your opinion, had the pistol recently been 
 discharged?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "How many chambers?" 
 
 "One, sir." 
 
 "Is the weapon still loaded?" 
 
 "All but one chamber." 
 
 "Doctor, please state the caliber of the pistol you 
 hold in your hand. ' ' 
 
 "It is a. 38." 
 
 "Does the bullet you have in evidence fit the re- 
 volver you are holding?" 
 
 The doctor inserted the ball into the muzzle of the 
 weapon. 
 
 "It does." 
 
 "What did you say was the caliber of that ball, 
 Doctor?" 
 
 "A .38." 
 
 "Kindly hand the revolver and the ball to the 
 jury, Mr. Bailiff!" said the prosecutor. 
 
 The bailiff obeyed, and when they had gone the 
 rounds of the jurymen the exhibits were handed to 
 Mr. Sharpies, who laid them in plain view on the 
 table at which he was standing. 
 
 "Take the witness, Mr. Hazelton," said the 
 State's Attorney, urbanely, again glancing signifi- 
 cantly at the jury, which, having become sufficiently 
 aroused to grasp the morbidly sensational testimony
 
 200 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 of the medical witness and listlessly examine the 
 revolver and bullet, had resumed its expression of 
 passivity. 
 
 Mr. Hazelton made a few inane objections during 
 Dr. Danford's testimony, which promptly were over- 
 ruled by the court, and he would have been glad to 
 let matters rest, so far as the medical testimony 
 was concerned. He felt, however, that he really 
 must give his client a semblance of a run for his 
 money and that here was as favorable an opportun- 
 ity as he was likely to get, so he proceeded to cross- 
 examine the witness in such a manner that if a single 
 juror had been inclined to believe that the murdered 
 man had died of heart failure from excitement and 
 over-exertion, his mind would have been disabused 
 of the notion by the positiveness with which Dr. Dan- 
 ford reiterated his testimony. 
 
 At the conclusion of Mr. Hazelton 's cross-exami- 
 nation the doctor, with a sigh of relief, left the wit- 
 ness stand, nervously wiping his brow with a large 
 silk handkerchief. He immediately left the court- 
 room, excusing to himself his perjured testimony on 
 the ground that it could not have been avoided, 
 for he had not dared to acknowledge that the ball 
 ever had been out of his hands. As matters stood, 
 he had no fear of consequences, for he felt quite 
 positive that, inasmuch as Hennessy was in a po- 
 sition as delicate as his own, he was insured against 
 everything but his own conscience and that was not 
 especially acute. 
 
 The State 's Attorney now called on the constables 
 and the various citizens of A ... who constitut- 
 ed the volunteer posse that stopped the fight among 
 the laborers in which Giulio Maggioli was killed, 
 and who had arrested Parkyn. Their testimony was
 
 SHORT SHRIFT 201 
 
 brief and to the point, its most damning feature be- 
 ing the statement made by each of them that Parkyn 
 was found lying on the floor of the bunk-house with 
 a revolver in his hand. 
 
 Each witness testified that the revolver apparent- 
 ly had been recently discharged, one chamber only 
 being empty. The weapon submitted in evidence 
 was identified as the one found in the prisoner's 
 possession and subsequently shown at the coroner's 
 inquest. 
 
 Just why Hennessy should have been called to 
 the stand was not clear to anybody save that astute 
 person himself and the State's Attorney, but as a 
 human interest play it was superb. Under the adroit 
 questioning of the prosecutor, the Boss made clear 
 to the jury the honest and industrious character of 
 the late Maggioli, and his own tender solicitude for 
 all his employes. He brought tears to the eyes of 
 the more susceptible persons in the audience, by 
 his allusions to the imaginary bereaved family of 
 the murdered man. As to the accused, he knew noth- 
 ing, save that the superintendent apparently never 
 was in sympathy with the men under him. 
 
 Butch listened with profound admiration to his 
 principal's testimony. 
 
 ' ' Just listen ter dat ! H ' ain 't 'e de smooth guy T ' ' 
 muttered the thug to himself. " 'E 's a daisy, 'e is ! 
 Me h'only h'aunt Maria! Wouldn't that cook ye? 
 'Is bloomin' wife an' bloody kids!" 
 
 It was significant that Mr. Sharpies did not call 
 Halloran to the stand. The State's Attorney evi- 
 dently was willing to rest the prosecution at this 
 point. 
 
 What course Hazelton now would have followed 
 is a matter of conjecture. Possibly he too, would
 
 202 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 have been pleased to have had the case rest here. 
 Halloran, however, again leaned over and whispered 
 to him. A brief and sharp whispered discussion fol- 
 lowed, at the conclusion of which the attorney, ap- 
 parently much against his will, after a brief confer- 
 ence with his client called the prisoner to the stand. 
 
 Parkyn was to all appearances calm and self- 
 possessed through it all, and watched the court pro- 
 ceedings as curiously as his depressed and hopeless 
 state of mind permitted. As he sized up the aud- 
 ience and the jury, and noted the pomposity of the 
 judge, he would have laughed aloud, had his situa- 
 tion been less precarious. While Butch Harris was 
 giving his testimony the young man was on the 
 verge of an explosive protest. When his own name 
 was called, he took the stand with a feeling of re- 
 lief the tension had become almost unbearable. 
 
 After the customary formalities and a few pre- 
 liminary questions, Mr. Hazelton went in detail into 
 the incidents of the night of the murder. 
 
 "Mr. Parkyn, where were you when the distur- 
 bance began in the bunk-house?" 
 
 ' ' On the pier, a few rods away. ' ' 
 
 "Did you hear any shots fired?" 
 
 "Yes, I heard several shots." 
 
 "What did you do when you heard the noise of the 
 fight among the men?" 
 
 "I ran as quickly as I could to the scene of the 
 disturbance. ' ' 
 
 "For what purpose, Mr. Parkyn?" 
 
 "To stop the fight." 
 
 "Were you alone?" 
 
 "At first I was alone." 
 
 "And afterward?" 
 
 "I was joined by a laborer, named O'Connor."
 
 SHOET SHRIFT 203 
 
 * * The same 'Connor who testified a few moments 
 ago?" 
 
 "Yes, the same." 
 
 "Did you have a weapon, Mr. Parkyn?" 
 
 "In my pocket, yes." 
 
 "Did you at any time draw your pistol?" 
 
 "I did." 
 
 "For what reason!" 
 
 "Practically every man engaged in the fight had 
 a weapon of some kind in his hand. I instinctively 
 drew my revolver, hoping to intimidate the men and 
 induce them to stop fighting. ' ' 
 
 "Did you fire the revolver?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 "Were you wounded during the fight?" 
 
 "I was. Somebody stabbed me in the thigh." 
 
 "Do you know who stabbed you?" 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 Hazelton hesitated for a moment and Halloran 
 motioned to him. The attorney leaned over and 
 Jack muttered a suggestion. 
 
 "Did you know the man who was killed in the 
 fight that evening?" continued the lawyer. 
 
 "I did not. I could not even have identified him as 
 one of the laborers on the construction job, had I 
 seen him anywhere away from the work." 
 
 "Did you see him fall?" 
 
 "I did not." 
 
 ' ' Do you know who shot him ? ' ' 
 
 "I do not." 
 
 Halloran again whispered to Hazelton. 
 
 "Were you in the habit of carrying a revolver?" 
 continued the attorney. 
 
 "I was not; the foreman and I expected trou- 
 ble, and Mr. Halloran suggested that I carry a re-
 
 204 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 volver and supplied me with the weapon I had in 
 my possession that evening. ' ' 
 
 "That will do, Mr. Parkyn," said Hazelton. 
 
 The State 's Attorney now took the witness. 
 
 "You admit that you had a revolver at the time 
 of the fight?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Is this the revolver?" 
 
 "I could not say positively, but it was one like 
 that." 
 
 "You state that you did not fire the revolver?" 
 
 "I do." 
 
 "Yet the evidence plainly shows that the weapon 
 was discharged." Sharpies looked meaningly at 
 the jury. "How do you explain that?" he went on, 
 maladroitly. 
 
 "I object, your honor!" exclaimed Hazelton. 
 
 "Objection sustained," said the Judge. 
 
 "I withdraw the objection, your honor," exclaimed 
 counsel for the defense, hastily. 
 
 "I do not care to press the question, your honor," 
 interposed Sharpies, realizing his own blunder. 
 "That is all, Mr. Parkyn." 
 
 "Mr. Parkyn," said Hazelton, "you may tell the 
 jury just how your weapon came to be discharged. ' ' 
 
 "I hardly know. It was a double action and I 
 suppose I must have pulled the trigger accidentally. 
 My arm was extended above my head in the strug- 
 gle with the men when the pistol went off. The ball 
 must have gone over the heads of everybody." 
 
 The State's Attorney turned to the jury and 
 smiled satirically. The jury responded with a look 
 which showed that they were heartily in sympathy 
 with Sharpies ' incredulity.
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 205 
 
 1 'That is all," said the attorney for the defense, 
 glancing inquiringly at Mr. Sharpies. The prose- 
 cutor nodded and Parkyn left the stand. After a 
 moment's quiet consultation with Jack Halloran, 
 Mr. Hazelton called him to the stand. 
 
 Halloran verified in every particular the testi- 
 mony of the accused, as to the circumstances under 
 which he became possessed of the revolver. Hal- 
 loran testified also that he heard the superintendent 
 calling for his assistance at the time the latter rushed 
 into the shack to stop the fight. He further testi- 
 fied to finding several men lying wounded upon the 
 floor of the bunk-house, Parkyn being among them, 
 and also to finding the body of Giuliq Maggioli. 
 
 The prosecutor did not cross-examine, but con- 
 tented himself with another suggestive sneer direct- 
 ed at the jury, which sneer was quite as effective as 
 he meant it to be, if the significant glances ex- 
 changed by the jurymen counted for anything. 
 
 Already ineffably bored, the jury, to a man, wore 
 an expression of martyrdom during the speeches of 
 the opposing attorneys. As the prosecuting attor- 
 ney made his most telling points, the jurymen ex- 
 changed looks which plainly showed that they re- 
 garded his address as merely a conscientious attempt 
 to give the state good measure. As for Hazelton 's 
 speech, the jury would have gone to sleep during 
 its delivery, had its members not been so impressed 
 with the sense of their own importance and a desire 
 to convince the audience that they were a little the 
 wisest aggregation of public- spirited citizens that 
 B . . . ever had seen. 
 
 It was not without difficulty, however, that some of
 
 206 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the jurymen were able to preserve their official grav- 
 ity. These gentlemen kept awake, but sat blinking 
 like so many owls facing the sunlight, aggressively 
 pointing their be-whiskered chins at Hazelton, as if 
 defying his eloquence. His arguments, if so they 
 might be charitably termed, were ignored altogether. 
 Throughout both the speeches Mr. Chase 's rubicund 
 countenance resembled a Jack 0' Lantern with the 
 light out. 
 
 Sharpies first ironically and cleverly apologized 
 to the jury for reviewing the obvious before a body 
 of such intelligent gentlemen. This shot evidently 
 went home, with telling effect. The prosecutor made 
 no effort at oratorical display, yet his denunciation 
 of the prisoner was scathing and savage enough to 
 please the most vindictive individual in the court- 
 room. His resume of the evidence was brief, clear- 
 cut and practically unassailable. 
 
 Mr. Sharpies made a special point of the heinous- 
 ness of the murder of a poor, hard-working laborer, 
 by a man of education and presumed refinement. 
 Only once was he in the least dramatic, and that 
 was when he displayed the revolver and the fatal 
 bullet to the jury. 
 
 During the entire address the State's Attorney's 
 face wore the triumphant expression of one who is 
 certain of winning his cause. He concluded by sav- 
 agely demanding that the death penalty be inflicted 
 on the prisoner. 
 
 If sophomoric oratory had been argument, Hazel- 
 ton's speech might have been considered a most ef- 
 fective one. Under the circumstances, however, he 
 merely succeeded in giving entertainment to the 
 crowd in the courtroom. It must be admitted that 
 the attorney made the best of a bad situation he
 
 SHOET SHRIFT 207 
 
 could safely do this but the dullest person in the 
 audience should have been as thoroughly convinced 
 as was he himself of the hopelessness of his cause. 
 
 He dwelt at length upon the lack of motive on the 
 prisoner's part, and made a special point of the evi- 
 dence that Parkyn was not in the habit of carrying 
 a weapon. He also directed the attention of the 
 jury to the fact that, in endeavoring to stop the fight 
 on the evening of the murder, his client merely tried 
 to do his obvious duty. He then enlarged upon the 
 unreliability of the evidence of men who themselves 
 were in a condition of mental excitement at the time 
 the murder was committed. 
 
 In brief, the points made by the attorney for the 
 defense were obvious, and only such as would have 
 suggested themselves to the merest tyro in the law, 
 and impressed the jury not at all. The nearest ap- 
 proach to a semblance of interest in the attorney's 
 sophomoric oratory on the part of the jury, was a 
 half-suppressed yawn from an occasional juryman 
 who was sufficiently wide awake to be still impres- 
 sionable. 
 
 As Hazelton concluded his speech with an impas- 
 sioned appeal for the acquittal of his client, the en- 
 tire jury roused itself into an amusedly tolerant 
 appreciation of what it evidently regarded as a hu- 
 morous effort on the attorney's part, rather than a 
 serious attempt to save his client's life or liberty. 
 
 Against such an array of direct and convincing 
 testimony as had been submitted by the prosecution, 
 and with such a jury, the most enthusiastic and 
 skillful lawyer in the world would have played a 
 losing game. With a man like Hazelton, who was 
 chiefly mindful of his own and not his client's in- 
 terests, the result was not for a moment in doubt.
 
 208 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Hennessy chuckled softly to himself as he listened 
 to the flamboyant address of the attorney for the 
 defense. It was evident to the wily Boss that while 
 his adroitness in handling the county physician had 
 been fruitful in results, his visit to Hazelton was 
 time wasted. 
 
 Judge Wilson's instructions to the jury were very 
 brief, and comprised merely an interpretation of the 
 rules of evidence in the case and a statement of the 
 various degrees of murder as denned by the statutes 
 of the State of New York. He concluded with the 
 usual admonition to render a verdict in strict ac- 
 cordance with the law and the evidence. 
 
 As the jury filed out it was evident to everybody 
 in the courtroom that its deliberations would be 
 merely a concession to legal formality on the part 
 of men whose minds already were unalterably made 
 up. 
 
 During the speeches, Parkyn and Halloran were 
 more than ever impressed with the mockery of the 
 entire proceedings. The faces of both men showed 
 that they knew the situation was hopeless. 
 
 Neither the prisoner nor his only friend looked 
 at each other as the jury retired, but Halloran 
 glared in Butch Harris' direction in a hostile fash- 
 ion which suggested that the sturdy foreman would 
 enjoy treating that worthy to a vigorous man-hand- 
 ling. 
 
 After unanimously electing Hiram Chase foreman, 
 the jury occupied itself very briefly with the merits 
 of the case. The evidence against Parkyn was so 
 damningly convincing that the jury consumed very 
 little time in its recapitulation. The only issue re- 
 quiring discussion was the degree of murder and the
 
 SHORT SHEIFT 209 
 
 penalty therefor. Even here the instructions of the 
 judge left little room for discussion, although sever- 
 al of the jury showed a blood-thirsty desire to convict 
 the prisoner of murder in the first degree, and rush 
 him to the gallows or to life imprisonment. These 
 gentlemen, however, soon yielded to the arguments of 
 their fellow jurymen and within thirty minutes the 
 jury had arrived at a verdict, returned to the court- 
 room and solemnly filed into the box. 
 
 "Gentlemen," asked the judge, "have you arrived 
 at a verdict?" 
 
 "We have, your honor," answered the foreman. 
 
 "What is your verdict?" 
 
 "We, the jury, find the prisoner guilty of murder 
 in the second degree and recommend imprisonment 
 for a term of twenty years, as provided by law. ' ' 
 
 "Mr. Clerk," said the judge, "you will please poll 
 the jury." 
 
 Each juryman having stated his agreement with 
 the verdict as stated by the foreman, the court for- 
 mally pronounced sentence. 
 
 Judge Wilson himself was not unmindful of the 
 opportunity afforded him to make a play to the 
 gallery, and was more than impressive in his re- 
 marks in passing sentence upon Parkyn. He was 
 careful that the audience should not overlook his 
 breadth, fairness and humaneness of spirit. 
 
 The judge's remarks were so much in harmony 
 with the expressions of the Reverend Dr. Perkins 
 and the editorial utterances of The Clarion, that 
 the audience could not fail to appreciate the salient 
 points of his speech as agreeing with public opinion. 
 
 "Robert Parkyn," concluded the judge, "you will 
 please stand. ' ' The prisoner wearily rose to his feet. 
 
 "You have been duly tried and found guilty of
 
 210 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the murder of Giulio Maggioli, as set forth in 
 the indictment. The sentence of the court is that 
 you be confined in the State Penitentiary at Sing 
 Sing, for a term of twenty years. The court 
 recommends to you such behavior while in prison, 
 as will secure for you the advantages which the 
 law has so beneficently provided for good conduct 
 on the part of those undergoing punishment for 
 anti-social acts." 
 
 The crowd slowly left the courtroom and dis- 
 persed with that feeling of tranquil security which 
 every good citizen should experience when the law 
 has been vindicated and society has avenged itself 
 upon one of its erring integers. 
 
 Parkyn and his friend Halloran were the only in- 
 dividuals in the courtroom who were not thoroughly 
 satisfied with the outcome of the trial.
 
 BOOK II
 
 CHAPTEB XIII 
 
 THE *TEW DEAL 
 
 Towards the commencement of the last quarter of 
 that period of boasted progress, the nineteenth 
 century, a glimmer of intelligence in the study of 
 criminology and the management of crime began 
 to permeate the dense brain of that most excellent 
 and stupid creature, Society which is so fond of 
 devouring its own children. 
 
 The Italian school of criminologists was yet to 
 come, but there already were a few devoted spirits in 
 whose veins the milk of human kindness flowed and 
 whose warm hearts were more interested in the 
 great brotherhood of man in the here and now 
 than in the glimmering halos and twanging harps 
 of a mythical and mystical future. These devoted 
 ones were beginning to blaze a path to a condition 
 on earth in which things should be done as it is 
 promised they shall be done in heaven. 
 
 These strong men and women born half a century 
 before their time and therefore out of tune with 
 the social orchestra were endeavoring to place the 
 responsibility of crime where it obviously belonged, 
 at the door of Society itself. Society then, as now, 
 allowed its degenerates to marry and reproduce 
 their kind. It neglected both the mothers of the 
 land and their children. It promised these children 
 nothing for good behavior, but most condign pun- 
 ishment for any crimes they might one day commit
 
 214 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 as a consequence of Society's own negligence. They 
 were told that there were millions for punishment, 
 but not one dollar to prevent young brands from 
 getting into the burning. They never were assisted 
 in being well-born or in remaining or becoming 
 
 'he State ever has been a bad parent for our 
 "citizens in the making" and is itself criminally cul- 
 pable for the downfall of most of those who stumble 
 and fall by the wayside. It merely suspends the 
 Damocles-like sword of punishment over the potenti- 
 al criminal's head, as a warning of what is in store 
 for him if he goes wrong and considers its duty 
 done. 
 
 For some months, Sing Sing prison had been hav- 
 ing troubles that were new and strange troubles 
 which astonished even the old-timers who were hold- 
 ing down jobs in the institution. A new warden 
 had been appointed who, as the stand-patters ex- 
 pressed it, at once had proceeded to " raise partic- 
 ular hell" with penal orthodoxy. 
 
 The before mentioned "old-timers" were slow in 
 comprehending what had struck them, and when the 
 light finally dawned upon their minds, comprehen- 
 sion came with a distinct and severe shock. They 
 "sat up and took notice" as did friend Nye in 
 the Heathen Chinee. Like that ingenuous person, 
 when he found that Ah Sin was cheating him "in 
 the game he did not understand, ' ' the under-officials 
 of the prison saw ruin staring them in the face, but 
 unlike William they exhibited much discretion and 
 "went" not for the disturber of their dreams. 
 
 Clever wardens and stupid wardens they often
 
 THE NEW DEAL 215 
 
 before had met; wardens had come and gone, for 
 cause or without it ; among them had been both brut- 
 al wardens and kind wardens, but a warden with 
 new ideas and such ideas ! they never before had 
 seen. 
 
 This phenomenal new warden, Major Donaldson, 
 believed that the criminal should be regarded as a 
 human being, even though the poor devil had no 
 political pull. He did not believe in inhuman treat- 
 ment, nor in severe or brutal punishment for infrac- 
 tions of discipline. Still less did he believe in filth, 
 bad air and deprivation of sunlight as means of 
 moral betterment for convicts. 
 
 The new prison head actually had the effrontery 
 to claim that, to make a man better morally and 
 mentally, he should be improved physically, and even 
 had been heard to assert that prisons were colleges 
 of crime, where the herding of young offenders with 
 hardened criminals resulted in complete demorali- 
 zation of many who might have been saved. 
 
 "This," said he, indignantly, was " worse than 
 sending children with measles to a smallpox hos- 
 pital for treatment. ' ' 
 
 Then there was his milk-and-water idea that mis- 
 fortune and social stress played a more important 
 role than natural sin in keeping up the census of 
 prisons! "Unheard of and preposterous, a bomb 
 aimed at the very foundations of society!" 
 
 And his theory that guards and under-wardens 
 should be gentlemanly! "Monstrous! as if gentil- 
 ity and cpnsiderateness on the part of prison offic- 
 ials possibly could make for the betterment of a 
 low-down criminal ! ' ' 
 
 The new warden also had the queer notion that
 
 216 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 a prison should be run on the lines of military dis- 
 cipline and etiquette and especially etiquette! 
 
 Another idea of his, not so wishy-washy, was so 
 abhorrent to ears polite that it must not be openly 
 mentioned. He actually entertained the " barbar- 
 ous ' ' notion that confirmed criminals should be ster- 
 ilized for the protection of generations yet unborn, 
 and that the State should regulate marriage ! 
 
 Finally and this so shocked the orthodox old- 
 time penologists that they are not yet done gasping 
 he was opposed to capital punishment! 
 
 The worst blow ever experienced by the Tammany 
 bosses who had secured his appointment, was when 
 their eyes were opened to their mistake by the pub- 
 lication in the daily press of one of the new warden's 
 "fool speeches" at a certain scientific conference. 
 Here are some of the awful heresies he perpetrat- 
 ed: 
 
 "The theory of punishment, like most archaic 
 social theories, always has been very popular with 
 the man in the street, while the corrupt governing 
 political powers have used it for their own male- 
 volent purposes of revenge, political skulduggery 
 and graft thus selfishly utilizing the popular fal- 
 lacy that the Mosaic Law is the best means of social 
 self-defense. 
 
 "To make men better never has been the aim or 
 method of our penal system. To punish ah ! there 's 
 the specific for crime! Take the victim of Society's 
 own stupidity poor atom of our social dregs 
 try him, convict him, take him to the 'pen,' shave 
 his head, clothe him in stripes, teach him the lock- 
 step and house him with a fellow-prisoner in a 
 cell, the cubic air capacity of which is not one-fifth 
 of that required for human health, and how can he
 
 THE NEW DEAL 217 
 
 help coming out of prison a worse citizen than be- 
 fore? 
 
 "Architectural genius for doing the wrong thing, 
 combined with social imbecility, is most fertile in 
 diabolic invention. Builders of prisons apparently 
 always have taken special pains to protect the con- 
 vict from the awful effects of fresh air and sunshine, 
 by putting the cell houses as far away from the out- 
 side world as possible. Should any man treat a 
 domestic animal with the same brutality and be 
 caught at it, the Society for the Prevention of Cruel- 
 ty to Animals would arrest him forthwith, and the 
 press would crucify him at the bar of public opinion. 
 
 "Exaggeration? Let those who believe that the 
 lower animals are worse treated than our criminals, 
 visit almost any of our prisons, and let him not lis- 
 ten, but look. 
 
 "The man who enters the gaol to be punished by 
 a long term of imprisonment comes out a moral, 
 spiritual and physical wreck, with the brand of the 
 social pariah upon him and the prison pallor 
 stamped on his face and often with no recourse 
 save to break back into jail. 
 
 "When, not long ago, a returned traveler pointed 
 an accusing finger at Russian kameras the prisons 
 in which exiles and criminals are housed, en route to 
 Siberia, with their buckets of filth and myriads of 
 vermin a philanthropist investigator described a 
 part of 'darkest America,' the convict camps of the 
 south, and showed that the same conditions prevailed 
 there, save only that pur more discreet southrons 
 attach a ball and chain to the convict's leg and 
 the more humane Russians did not. 
 
 "Once the doors of a State's prison have closed 
 upon a man, his individuality is lost and he becomes
 
 218 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 a thing a thing still animate, but colorless and 
 and dead. He is no longer a man, but a near-living 
 number. 
 
 1 'We might reform the man, but can we revive old 
 ideals, or inspire new ones in the breast of a mere 
 number? 
 
 "How easy it is to transform a man into a number, 
 when once we get him within prison walls, but how 
 difficult to re-transform that number into a man 
 when liberty comes! 
 
 "Society never will wake up until it finds that it 
 costs more to punish criminals and farm out convict 
 labor than it does to prevent crime. Present day 
 police systems, graft and punishment are anachro- 
 nisms and social monstrosities. 
 
 "This is no disclaimer of human responsibility, but 
 placing responsibility where it properly belongs, 
 not on the shoulders of the individual but on those 
 of Society." 
 
 To the criticism that he was advocating a crime 
 "free for all," the Major replied: 
 
 "We cannot change the nature of a vicious dog 
 by chain or collar or by beating. By the chain we 
 merely keep him in hand and thereby protect our- 
 selves from harm while humanely doing our best 
 to improve him. If we fail, he should be permanent- 
 ly segregated, granting that there is any value in 
 him. If not, he should be eliminated, just as a dog 
 should be at once eliminated. These things should 
 be done, not for social revenge, but for social pro- 
 tection. The theory of elimination, or even of seg- 
 regation of criminals, is not the same as that of 
 punishment. It merely implies social self-defense. 
 Then, too, we always can breed better dogs; why 
 not better men?"
 
 THE NEW DEAL 219 
 
 Small wonder that Tammany gasped with dismay. 
 
 The blow the Major gave to the traditions 
 of Sing Sing was the greater because of the fact that 
 the political appointees of the institution were sev- 
 eral shades tougher than the criminals whom it was 
 their duty to guard and oversee. 
 
 The only balm that the new warden's official fam- 
 ily could find in Gilead was the conviction that he 
 could not long hold his job. Meanwhile they would 
 have to endure him as best they might, as a mild 
 sort of lunatic who was sure to "get his," sooner or 
 later. 
 
 To the political and commercial "powers that 
 prey," the most paralyzing discovery was that the 
 new official was not "out for the coin," and, more- 
 over, was dangerous to approach. Nothing could 
 be "kissed through" the warden's office. He would 
 neither graft nor be grafted, and that was all there 
 was to it. 
 
 It requires little perspicacity to understand that 
 Major Donaldson was soon persona non grata with 
 Tammany. This, when freely translated into the re- 
 cherche language of gangland, means that the old 
 soldier was "in Dutch wit de bosses." 
 
 It was only a question of time when the bosses 
 would "get" the major and "get him good" but 
 they were discreet, there must be a "reason" and 
 no indecent haste. 
 
 How Major Donaldson ever "got by" and secured 
 the appointment of warden at Sing Sing never has 
 ceased to be a puzzle to the wise ones. It was a 
 nine days' wonder, and was talked of for years 
 after the grass had grown green over the dear old 
 man's grave. 
 
 The people up-state had grown a bit tired of
 
 220 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Tammany domination, and had resolved to show the 
 folks on Manhattan Island that the State of New 
 York extended some miles further north than Spuy- 
 ten Devil Creek and was not bounded on the west 
 by the Hudson, nor on the east by the East River. 
 They were "goin' to show 'em, you betcha!" 
 
 Around every "spit-box" in every little country 
 grocery store and postoffice, gathered the reaction- 
 aries, bent on saving the state. Political opinions 
 punctuated with liberal mouthfuls of tobacco juice 
 were fired in volleys with rarely a miss and the 
 partisans invariably voted the way they spat. 
 
 Among the patriotic members of the ' 'round- the- 
 spit-box clubs" throughout the state, were hund- 
 reds of old soldiers, men who had saved the country 
 for the Republican party at least. These men vot- 
 ed as formerly they shot for principle and also 
 spat as they meant to vote. 
 
 The putrescent odor of the Boss Tweed-Tammany- 
 Ring scandal still was in the air and would not down, 
 but remained a stench in the nostrils of decency and 
 the old soldier always has had a very sensitive smel- 
 ling apparatus. 
 
 Tammany had neglected the "old soldier in poli- 
 tics;" he was getting "peeved," and it was a bad 
 time for such a peeve to develop. 
 
 The New York Democratic leaders were corrupt 
 and venal, and obstinate as the traditional mule, but 
 were not quite fools ; they were wise enough to try 
 to placate the old soldiers of the Empire State. 
 This probably had more to do with the Major's 
 appointment than had anything else. 
 
 It must be acknowledged that while Tammany 
 made a great mistake in securing the appointment
 
 THE NEW DEAL 221 
 
 of Ma^'or Donaldson, the mistake was natural enough. 
 The civil service political bogey-man had not yet ap- 
 peared on the horizon to disturb the grafter's 
 dreams. Nobody ever was examined to see what 
 his qualifications were and never would be ex- 
 amined, if Tammany could help it. The game al- 
 ways was a two-edged sword and cut both ways. Then, 
 too how was Tammany to know that the Major had 
 freak ideas, and was the soul of honor? And be- 
 sides, he was a Democrat and should be safe. 
 
 Once the Major was appointed, Tammany could 
 do nothing but sit down and await developments, 
 confident that if he made any "bad break" his case 
 could be attended to "right." 
 
 Major Donaldson was comfortably well off and 
 had numerous hobbies. Indeed some of his familiar 
 critics had dubbed him "Bachelor of Hobbies," 
 which appellation he accepted with his proverbial 
 good humor and sense of the eternal fitness of 
 things. Even without systematic occupation, his 
 humane interests would have prevented him from 
 stagnating, hence he really did not need office of 
 any kind. His application for the position of war- 
 den at Sing Sing was made with the view of working 
 out and perfecting some of his pet social-uplift the- 
 ories. He was minded to write a book sometime, 
 and knew that Sing Sing was a veritable gold mine 
 for the development of the kind of experience and 
 data he was seeking. 
 
 Eumor had it that the position of Warden at 
 Sing Sing was one of the most profitable within 
 the gift of New York politics. The bank accounts 
 of some of the gentlemen who at various times had 
 held the office showed that the job was a "gold
 
 222 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 mine," almost in the literal sense. "Playing fav- 
 orites" always has afforded fat picking in penal 
 institutions. 
 
 Needless to say, the new warden did not take into 
 his full confidence either Tammany or any other 
 political powers that be, when he applied for the 
 position. He was a pretty wise old fellow in many 
 ways even wise enough to wonder how long he 
 could hold the job if he ever succeeded in getting it. 
 
 Major Donaldson was a striking figure. Tall, 
 erect, soldierly in bearing and with a past-middle- 
 aged accumulation of flesh which was just sufficient 
 to give a corporeal backing to his dignified carriage, 
 he was indeed imposing. His iron grey hair, health- 
 ily florid complexion, long, heavy, military mous- 
 tache, keen blue eyes and Roman nose that reminded 
 one of the beak of an eagle, suggested a picture of 
 one of the Little Corporal's grenadiers of the guard, 
 who had stepped out of his moldy frame into an- 
 other epoch. 
 
 And spirit! It required but a glance at the old 
 soldier to comprehend that behind and beneath all 
 was that indomitable courage which, since the world 
 began, has made for liberty, human rights and 
 progress. 
 
 But there was one quality which the Major 's mar- 
 tial appearance and brusque manner quite concealed. 
 He carried in his bosom a heart overflowing with 
 humane impulses and desire for the betterment of 
 the under-dog in general, which the casual observer 
 never would suspect. This quality was discoverable 
 only by seeing him in action, fighting the battle of 
 the down-trodden brother who had been crushed or 
 cast aside by the social juggernaut. Verily, one could 
 know the Major only by his works.
 
 THE NEW DEAL 223 
 
 Reverting to his courage, the quality which men 
 most admire in men, it had brought to Major Don- 
 aldson effulgent and well-earned glory at Gettys- 
 burg, Shiloh and elsewhere, but at Sing Sing ! 
 
 McCabe, the chief deputy-warden, a grizzled, 
 gnarly, bluff old-timer, was one of the few officials 
 of the prison who did not dislike the new chief. He 
 really held the warden in high esteem although 
 grumbling at his "batty" ideas and was willing to 
 rest content with the harmless-though-demoralizing- 
 lunacy theory of the old Major's peculiar views of 
 penal administration and the management of crim- 
 inals. Even the chief deputy, however, failed to ap- 
 preciate the peculiar quality of courage exhibited 
 by his chief in his line of duty at Sing Sing. 
 
 When McCabe discovered that Major Donaldson 
 never carried a weapon he almost threw a fit. He 
 relieved his mind at the earliest opportunity by an- 
 nouncing his remarkable discovery to the other dep- 
 uties and guards. 
 
 "Say, boys," he exclaimed, excitedly, "d'ye know 
 that the old man don't pack a rod?" 
 
 "The hell he don't!" shouted several of the offi- 
 cers. "What the devil does he carry, then?" 
 
 "Not a blasted thing, so help me God!" asserted 
 McCabe, earnestly. "He ain't got a thing in his 
 clothes bigger 'n a pen-knife, an' that ain't big 
 enough to even manicure one o' them lovely birds 
 of ours." 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned!" yelled everybody in cho- 
 rus. * ' What d 'ye know about that ? ' ' 
 
 "An' the old duffer's puttin' murderers on for 
 trusties ! ' ' exploded a guard named Gleason, deris- 
 ively. He says that most of 'em is safer to trust 
 than ordinary crooks. He'll need a gatt one o' these
 
 224 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 fine days," growled the guard, "an* he'll need it 
 damned bad, and, ' ' he went on in a lower tone, look- 
 ing around cautiously to see if he was likely to be 
 overheard by persons not in his confidence, "we'll 
 need a new warden, I hope. ' ' 
 
 "Huh! You'd oughter like the Major, Gleason," 
 retorted McCabe, sarcastically. "If he carried a 
 gun, you might have reason to be jealous. He might 
 go after yer score an ' beat ye to it. ' ' 
 
 In the general and somewhat envious laugh excited 
 by McCabe 's satirical allusion to Gleason 's brutal ex- 
 pertness in gun-play, the new warden's peculiarity 
 temporarily was forgotten.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 
 
 It is to be hoped that the more fortunate citizens 
 of the great commonwealth of New York will not be 
 offended by the nomenclature applied to the state's 
 best patronized hostelry. It is highly probable that 
 the thousands upon thousands of her citizens who 
 have been involuntarily entertained at the state's 
 expense at Sing Sing will not take exception to the 
 name, herewith conferred upon that hospitable insti- 
 tution. It is probable, also, that a majority vote 
 of present and former residents of the state 's least 
 popular inn will indorse the implication that the 
 name "Sing Sing," originally was applied to the 
 boarding-house in question, merely out of deference 
 to euphony. 
 
 "Hell on the Hudson" would have been unesthet- 
 ically coarse and painful to the ears of the good and 
 pure citizens who are mulcted in tithes for the sup- 
 port of the institution. Especially would the more 
 appropriate name have shocked the refined sensi- 
 bilities of certain persons who long had been en- 
 titled to room and meal ticket at the state's ex- 
 pense, yet had been deprived of the privilege. 
 
 The devil is herewith apologized to, out of hand, 
 for the implied libel on his domain. 
 
 Sing Sing Penitentiary today is essentially as 
 it was at the time of the occurrence of the events 
 narrated in this story. The cell houses now in use
 
 226 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 were built in 1825^, nearly a century ago! Some re- 
 forms have been instituted, it is true, and the insti- 
 tution is a bit cleaner than of yore, but everything 
 the system especially virtually is the same. The 
 prison always has been an anachronism, a monument 
 to human stupidity, and the apotheosis of graft and 
 of man's inhumanity to man. Nor is the institution 
 in any wise different from many other hell-holes of 
 its official kind that are scattered all over this fair 
 land of ours. 
 
 Gray, frowning, cheerless walls, surrounding a 
 still more forbidding and repellent interior, ever 
 have made the unintelligent construction of our 
 prisons a reproach to the men who design them and 
 a disgrace to the authorities who immure within 
 their walls the victims of Society's own sins. 
 
 With its workshops, where the sweat of social 
 outcasts was milled into dollars for grafting politic- 
 ians and greedy contractors; its lock-stepping files 
 that reduced all victims of Society's sins to a common 
 dead level of degradation, and the stripes that cast 
 a bar sinister on the convict's very soul and were a 
 badge of infamy destined to sear on his brain a 
 vivid and agonizing memory of ignominy and shame 
 that time never could efface, Sing Sing, or any other 
 of our state prisons at the time of our narrative, 
 could have furnished a theme for a Dante or a Mil- 
 ton. This virtually applies to most of them today 
 although some are worse than others. 
 
 Over the gates of the inferno fabricated by Italy's 
 greatest imaginative genius, the immortal poet 
 wrote: "Leave all hope behind, all ye who enter 
 here." He who enters one of our prisons and does 
 not leave behind not only hope, but self-respect and 
 health, is either stronger than his fellows in physi-
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 227 
 
 cal and moral fibre, very fortunate in the matter of 
 "pull," or most optimistic in his faith in political 
 gods. 
 
 To a man of good breeding and normal mentality 
 the mere idea of imprisonment is horrifying. To 
 feel that his liberty is gone, and that the free air of 
 heaven, the sunshine and flowers, the green grass, 
 the breeze-kissed foliage of the trees, the sparkle 
 and sheen of waters, and the music of the birds no 
 longer are his to enjoy, is agonizing to any one save 
 the hardened criminal, to whom imprisonment is all 
 in the game, and who naturally is callous to the more 
 esthetically sensuous impressions of the world he 
 has left behind. Give the case-hardened criminal 
 the privilege of taking the gin, the women and the 
 carousals of the underworld with him into prison, 
 and his punishment would be turned into a mere 
 sojourn in a rather uncomfortable resort. For pure- 
 ly business reasons he may be anxious to return to 
 the practice of his profession, but he experiences 
 from his surroundings no sense of humiliation nor 
 shame from which he yearns to escape. His dis- 
 comfort is purely physical. 
 
 The "habitual" has no domestic ties to break, 
 no pride of station to injure, no reputation to shat- 
 ter and knows no degradation he is long past that. 
 The opinion of the upperworld is naught to him. 
 His own kind looks upon him as a hero, "down on 
 his luck. ' ' At worst, the underworld merely regards 
 him as a fool for getting "collared." If his pride 
 center is hurt in the least, it is because his capture 
 and conviction are a reflection upon his profession- 
 al skill. 
 
 Barely does the convict raise his head above the 
 emasculating influence of the prison and make a
 
 228 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 desperate fight for freedom. He seldom has force of 
 character sufficient to impel him to break jail. What 
 little manhood a man possesses on entering prison 
 soon is stamped out of him by the system. Only 
 occasionally does a strong leader arise who will lead 
 a prison insurrection and attempt a general jail de- 
 livery in the face of death, or at the very least, an 
 increased punishment. The convict usually is quick- 
 ly crushed in spirit if he ever had any and drops 
 readily into the dull and featureless life of the pris- 
 on. 
 
 Parkyn temperamentally was an idealist, yet his 
 mind had much of the quality of practicality, in- 
 spired by ambition. He loved his profession and 
 had sufficient faith in his talents, powers of indus- 
 try and perseverance to believe that success in his 
 chosen field eventually was to be his. 
 
 To be robbed of the most useful years of his life, 
 the years in which he should be buffeting the world 
 and gathering strength and wisdom for to such 
 men, time spent in prison is just that much taken 
 out of life and to lose his fighting chance in the 
 struggle for success, was the refinement of cruelty. 
 
 Among the shadows that darkened his mind none 
 was so somber as the thought of his dear mother, 
 who, barely strong enough to endure the horror of 
 his arrest and trial, collapsed into a complete phys- 
 ical wreck when injustice was crowned with the 
 laurel of victory and the dread news of his sentence 
 came to her. He knew that she could not possibly 
 long endure the sorrow and humiliation of his im- 
 prisonment, to say nothing of the privations which 
 must result from his inability to aid in her support,
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 229 
 
 for grief and advancing years necessarily must ren- 
 der her incapable of self-sustenance. And to think 
 that he had been sent to prison for a crime of which 
 he was innocent! 
 
 As the train swiftly bore him toward Sing Sing, 
 that burial place of hope, reputation, ambition, self- 
 respect and liberty, these somber thoughts crowded 
 thick and fast upon his brain and drove him to the 
 verge of frenzy. Could he have done so he would 
 have leaped from the train to death or mutilation. 
 
 But soon came merciful apathy from sheer ex- 
 haustion of nerve force, and he sat for the rest of 
 the journey gazing with dull and unseeing eyes out 
 of the window at the swiftly flying scenery. When 
 he arrived at the penitentiary he was as spiritless 
 as an automaton. 
 
 When Eobert Parkyn entered the prison to begin 
 the long stretch of years that must elapse before he 
 again would be a free man, he was in a merciful 
 daze that blunted the edge of his sensibilities almost 
 to the point of unconsciousness of his surroundings. 
 He suffered, without a murmur, the usual manipu- 
 lations to which the newly-arrived convict is sub- 
 jected. The bath, the hair clipping, the atrocious 
 ill-fitting prison garb all failed to arouse in him 
 resentment or even a passing interest. 
 
 Not until he had been duly numbered and put in 
 his cell, did reaction come, or the young man fully 
 comprehend his situation. Then came a violent ebul- 
 lition of rage which made him dangerous for the 
 moment. It was well that no human piece of the 
 cruel legal machinery which had immured him was 
 within reach, for number 515, late Robert Parkyn, 
 was ready to act to the very letter the part so un-
 
 230 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 justly given him by the law this with no particular 
 regard to persons, providing the victim of his wrath 
 was an official. 
 
 He raged up and down the short length of his 
 cell in aimless fury for a while, and then wildly 
 rushed at the door, throwing himself against the 
 heavy steel bars with such force that he was knocked 
 to the floor, stunned and helpless, with nose bleeding 
 and one of his eyes badly contused. 
 
 When he recovered his senses he struggled pain- 
 fully to a sitting position and saw a stalwart uni- 
 formed guard leering at him through the bars of 
 the door and laughing derisively. 
 
 "Oh, ho! me bucko. Ye 're tryin' the Samson act, 
 are ye ! What 's the use ? A lot o ' fellers has tried it, 
 but nobody has pulled down this old temple yet. 
 Better save yer muscle you'll need it in the stone- 
 yard or the shops before ye get through." 
 
 No. 515 glared ominously at the guard, but did not 
 reply. 
 
 1 ' Like t' take a good, hard fall out o' me, wouldn't 
 ye, me lad? Well, ye better not try any o' them stunts 
 here. I'd come in an' give ye a chance, only it 
 wouldn't be fair. Ye 're a new boarder, an' don't 
 know the ropes yet. But don't throw no more o' 
 them Samson fits. It ain't healthy. We've got a 
 nice lot o' cures fer bad actors. You've got a twen- 
 ty year stretch ahead o' ye, an' ye better get busy 
 doin' it." 
 
 The guard laughed at his own wit, which was lost 
 upon the prisoner, who still was staring blankly at 
 him. 
 
 "It's no trouble ter give ye what's comin' to ye, 
 if ye ain't a good boy," continued the guard, good- 
 naturedly; "but, all the same, ye'd better take a tip
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 231 
 
 from yer uncle. Time off fer good conduct beats 
 the dark cell and bread and water, or gettin' strung 
 up to a door by the thumbs, a hell of a ways. Take 
 a tumble now, if ye know what's good fer yer 
 health," and the guard turned away and strode off 
 down the corridor. 
 
 No. 515 sat savagely glaring through the bars for 
 some time. His wits finally cleared and the gleam of 
 ferocity faded from his eyes. Unsteadily rising to 
 his feet he tottered to the bunk nearby and deject- 
 edly sat down on its edge. 
 
 Befuddled as he was while the guard was speak- 
 ing, that official's remarks were not altogether lost 
 upon the prisoner. As his brain cleared he instinct- 
 ively realized that insubordination would merely 
 serve to justify the verdict passed upon him and in- 
 crease his punishment. He then and there resolved 
 to so conduct himself in future that he could not be 
 robbed of whatever was his due in the way of time al- 
 lowance. Incidentally he determined to resist to 
 the utmost the downward drag of his environment. 
 His identity might be lost during his term of im- 
 prisonment, but No. 515 should be forever lost and 
 Robert Parkyn come into his own when that time had 
 expired. 
 
 And so, to all outward seeming, 515 became a mod- 
 el prisoner. Deep down in his heart there still 
 burned the fire of resentment for his unjust con- 
 victioji, and his very soul was suffused with gall and 
 wormwood, but no one ever would have suspected 
 that his attitude was not one of quiet resignation 
 to the inevitable. 
 
 It was nearly noon when 515 was thrust into his 
 cell. Promptly at the stroke of twelve, the pris-
 
 232 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 oners were marched to their cells preparatory to 
 giving them their midday meal. 
 
 No. 515 discovered that his cell-mate was a huge, 
 black, aromatic negro a half-witted, miserable 
 "throw-back," a deaf-mute and a " lifer," who, he 
 subsequently learned, had assaulted and afterward 
 murdered a young white woman in one of the up- 
 state towns. 
 
 The discovery of the uncongeniality and odorif- 
 erousness of his cell-mate had one redeeming fea- 
 ture ; it was likely to reconcile No. 515 to anything 
 in the way of labor that should keep him out of that 
 awful cell. 
 
 Let those who believe that men are made better by 
 imprisonment reflect on the dimensions of No. 515 's 
 cell in Sing Sing. Seven feet long, six feet eight 
 inches high and three and one-half feet wide! Less 
 than eighty-three cubic feet of dead air space each, 
 for two men, who must share this space with two 
 stools, a slop pail and two immovable bunks, occu- 
 pying half the width of the cell, so that with his back 
 to the wall the convict had no room for his knees! 
 From five o'clock P. M., to 6 A. M., and from Satur- 
 day night till Monday morning they remained im- 
 mured in this awful hole! 
 
 At noon No. 515 was herded into the bread line 
 with the other convicts, who were marched single 
 file past the stations where the "duffers" of bread 
 were distributed, and thence to the bare pine tables 
 with their cheap, meager furnishings, to be served 
 with the thin soup, coarse meat and abominable 
 "coffee" which was to sustain the prisoners for the 
 rest of their day of arduous toil. The new convict 
 could not eat ; he went through the form of gulping 
 down several mouthfuls of the nauseous, nondescript 
 fluid that masqueraded as coffee, and at the end of
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 233 
 
 the meal was marched back with the others and 
 locked in his cell. 
 
 His cell-mate soon afterward was marched out 
 with his fellow-convicts to work, but 515 was not as- 
 signed to any labor until the following morning, 
 when he received a perfunctory going over from the 
 physician and a deputy warden. The latter seemed 
 especially pleased with the prisoner's robust ap- 
 pearance, and assigned him to work in the stone 
 yard. 
 
 The new prisoner soon had occasion to be thankful 
 for his magnificent physique. Day labor is no joke 
 to the man who is not accustomed to it, and while 
 he was a splendid athlete, No. 515, like many another 
 man with a muscular system developed by athletics, 
 found that work in the stone-yard brought muscles 
 into play that never before had been systematically 
 exercised. 
 
 Then, too, the monotony of the labor itself was 
 frightfully wearing. In athletics one can vary his 
 muscular movements to suit his own pleasure, or 
 according to the game; not so in hustling and cut- 
 ting heavy stone. This is a steady grind in which 
 there is no element of play and play is the special 
 feature of athletics that relieves it of the tedium 
 of mere drudgery. 
 
 The uncleanliness of the, work was to 515 a new 
 feature of industry one to which, while he had 
 nothing but respect for honest toil, he had great dif- 
 ficulty in becoming accustomed. His hands, of which 
 he was wont to take particular care, soon lost their 
 well-kept appearance and became as rough and dem- 
 ocratic as those of any journeyman stone-worker or 
 mason. As for the bathing facilities in the prison, 
 the less said about them the better. 
 
 The worst feature of the treadmill of prison labor
 
 234 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 was the brutal silence that was enforced in the yards 
 and shops. To work side by side with men who 
 were compelled to keep more silent than horses or 
 oxen, was actual torture. 
 
 To be permitted to write letters only after two 
 months imprisonment, and then only once a month; 
 to see friends only once a month and then only in 
 the presence of a guard and to be punished for 
 smiling at a fellow-convict! Surely, under such a 
 benevolent system, only the most hardened criminal 
 could fail of reclamation. 
 
 There were times when 515 felt that he must 
 speak, or shout or go mad. He was deterred from 
 infraction of the rules which inevitably would have 
 been followed by punishment and black marks 
 against his prison record only by his fixed policy of 
 earning that precious time allowance that seemed so 
 far away, yet so well worth striving for. 
 
 The nights, the terrible, seemingly never-ending 
 nights, were almost unendurable. Alone with his 
 thoughts in his uncomfortable bunk, breathing the 
 stifling, fetid air of his narrow quarters, made still 
 more awful by the exhalations of the body and 
 breath of the half-witted black degenerate who 
 shared his cell, No. 515 could not sleep until nearly 
 daylight, when the bad air and complete exhaus- 
 tion overcame him and he sank into what was nearer 
 coma than sleep, an unconscious state that had but 
 one redeeming feature it was dreamless. And then, 
 early in the morning, stupid, still fatigued and list- 
 less, he was awakened to begin another round of 
 weary hours of awful, unrequited toil. 
 
 Thus the new convict went on, day in and day out, 
 in the dreary round of arduous manual labor in an 
 uncongenial field with still more uncongenial sur-
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 235 
 
 roundings, rapidly becoming a mere atom in the 
 remorseless maw of the inhuman machinery which 
 slowly, but surely, crushes the manhood and often 
 the very life out of its victims. 
 
 The dull, gray monotony of the daily toil of even 
 the free laborer, claims its thousands upon thous- 
 ands of victims reducing them to mere food for 
 the huge social machine which grinds the many into 
 powder so that the few may live in luxury. What 
 chance has the man who has not even liberty to con- 
 sole him, and whose life-blood slowly is sipped by 
 that greediest of vampires, the prison-contract-labor 
 system. 
 
 The steady, merciless grind of the stone-yard, 
 under the eye and the tongue-lash of brutal guards 
 and contract labor foremen, who punctuated with 
 kicks and blows the vile oaths with which they 
 whipped up the flagging energies of the lax-fibered 
 convicts, was awful ! 
 
 Before entering the penitentiary, many of the pris- 
 oners never in all their lives had done a day's work 
 at manual labor. These were men of weak power, 
 whose efficiency was far below the normal in many 
 almost at the zero point. Nearly all the convicts 
 were men of a low grade of efficiency. 
 
 Immediately to plunge such men as these into the 
 hardest kind of labor under the most brutal and 
 exacting of task-masters, labor in the fruits of which 
 they never could participate, was the very refine- 
 ment of cruelty. 
 
 No. 515 was naturally a powerful young man and 
 had all the energy of vigorous youth, yet he felt the 
 grind most keenly, and instinctively pitied the weak- 
 er vessels among his companions of the stone-yard 
 gang. He was not surprised when a convict inflicted
 
 236 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 deliberate injury upon himself with the object of 
 escaping the cruel trials of the stone-yard. 
 
 On one occasion he saw the man who was working 
 beside him, coolly lay one of his fingers upon a block 
 of stone and smash it with a setting maul ! 
 
 The prisoner was sent to the hospital, where the 
 finger was amputated. He was permitted to remain 
 in the hospital until the part was healed. He then 
 was sent back to the stone-yard. 
 
 Within three days the desperate man deliberately 
 smashed another finger, and again was sent to the 
 hospital for repairs and another amputation! On 
 his recovery he received another dose of the stone- 
 yard. 
 
 Still a third time did the poor devil mutilate a 
 finger! While the doctor was dressing the injured 
 member the convict said : 
 
 "Say, Doc., what the hell's the use o' makin' me 
 hike back an' forth between here and the stone-yard! 
 I'll furnish you with jobs as long as I have any lunch- 
 hooks left. See? I won't work in that yard, that's 
 what! Better keep me here, Doc." 
 
 Doctor Lyford, the prison physician, being a hu- 
 mane man, of ideas at least a little advanced, and 
 withal not lacking in humor, kept the perpetual sur- 
 gical clinic in the hospital and made an orderly of 
 him. 
 
 How many prison officials know why prisoners 
 malinger pretending sickness though they have it 
 not ? Yet how simple it all is. 
 
 Thanks to our stupid, penurious, medieval penal 
 system which is so busy punishing the criminal 
 that it has no money to spend or time to spare in 
 studying him the ordinary prison official barely 
 can see beyond his nose, much less comprehend the
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 237 
 
 problems that daily face him. He knows nothing of 
 criminal psychology. Even the average prison phy- 
 sician usually is young and inexperienced, has no 
 heart in his work and no ambition other than to 
 save enough of his meager salary to enable him to 
 get a start in private practice. 
 
 When the convict appears on the "sick line*' com- 
 plaining of bogus ailments, how simple the explana- 
 tion that the poor devil merely is trying to make a 
 nuisance of himself or to evade tasks. 
 
 Deep down in the heart of the most hardened 
 criminal is a desire for human sympathy and com- 
 panionship. He gets this in the hospital. " Then, too, 
 he makes up in egotism what he lacks in self-respect. 
 By pretending to be ill, he secures for the time 
 being the center of the stage. How else can we 
 explain the fact that a prisoner will endure almost 
 any discomfort for the privilege of appearing on 
 the sick line? The most nauseous, revolting drugs 
 given for the purpose of curing him of his dishonest 
 pretense of sickness, have no terror for the prison 
 malingerer ! As to evading work, despite his weak- 
 ness of fibre the convict rarely would attempt to 
 evade reasonable labor under proper conditions. 
 
 And most convicts take their religion just as they 
 do their medicine. It is a diversion that brings them 
 into the lime-light of individual attention and at- 
 tracts to them the sympathetic attention of certain 
 illogical folk who proselyte for the gratification of 
 their own egotism and who, in their work in the 
 vineyard of the Lord, pursue sinners as any true 
 sportsman might hunt game. 
 
 No reward for his labor, no companionship, no 
 love, no freedom, no converse with his kind and 
 harsh, brutal treatment! Is it surprising that our
 
 238 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 penal system has been a failure aye, a stench in the 
 nostrils of humanity ! 
 
 No. 515 scarcely could hope for intervention of 
 any kind. He had no influence whatever in the out- 
 side world, and it was from here that aid must 
 come. He soon was completely out of touch with 
 the social system whose victim he was. Halloran 
 had been transferred to a far distant job, and his 
 occasional letters were the only evidence that any- 
 one save his sick mother knew that Robert Parkyn 
 still lived. 
 
 Shortly after his incarceration in Sing Sing, the 
 young man received the news that his mother's ill- 
 ness, albeit a lingering one, was destined to prove 
 fatal. This was not unexpected, yet it came to him 
 with a terrific shock, succeeded with an odd combina- 
 tion of mental apathy, alternating with periods of 
 resentment which were the more soul-racking be- 
 cause suppressed. He occasionally had a hazy half- 
 notion that the awful injustice that had been done 
 him sooner or later would be righted in one way or 
 another it seemed dimly preposterous that this 
 should not be so only to awaken to a renewed con- 
 sciousness of the hopelessness of his situation. 
 
 The guards had not yet been especially brutal to 
 him possibly because he was strong, did his tasks 
 well, and for the most part had been docile enough. 
 But prison guards are not averse to making trouble 
 with the best behaved convicts. Often and often 
 the guards at Sing Sing would deliberately aggra- 
 vate to fury men who performed their tasks without 
 a murmur and showed a capacity for "licking up" 
 work that should have been pleasing to almost any 
 employer, and especially gratifying to the guards
 
 HELL ON THE HUDSON 239 
 
 assigned to duty in the shops and yards, who en- 
 deavored to get as much work out of the convicts as 
 they could, for the greater profit of the contractors 
 whose agents, in effect, the guards really were. 
 
 Men were cunningly changed about from depart- 
 ment to department of the prison the State care- 
 fully avoided teaching the convicts anything that 
 would be useful outside of the prison.^ For example, 
 convicts were taught to run a machine for cutting 
 shoe soles, but never to make a shoe. The trades 
 taught at Sing Sing and the habits of industry in- 
 culcated, would have been quite as useful to a horse. 
 
 A good, skillful worker, if allowed to go on peace- 
 fully and quietly, was sure of his time allowance. 
 This did not please the contractors, who coined the 
 fatigue and heartaches and the perspiration of the 
 State 's slaves into dollars. The interests of the con- 
 tractors and of the grafters higher up, who turned 
 some of these dollars into bonds printed in the poor 
 devils of prisoners ' very blood, must be conserved ; 
 that was what Sing Sing was for. 
 
 And so, on occasion, good workers were goaded 
 by persecutions until, exasperated beyond human 
 endurance, they committed some infraction of the 
 rules. With each infraction came punishment and 
 time loss, and it was not long before the time allow- 
 ance for good behavior had been licked up clean by 
 the atrocious system. 
 
 Although he had determined to be a model pris- 
 oner and to save his time allowance at all hazards, 
 No. 515 finally got upon very thin ice. The con- 
 temptible petty jabs and stabs in his pride center, 
 and the profane abuse to which he was daily ex- 
 posed, finally put his nerves on edge, and he became 
 morose and irritable. That, sooner or later, he
 
 240 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 would lose self-control, with an explosion of resent- 
 ment, would be brutally treated and go the way so 
 many other prisoners had gone, seemed inevitable 
 and so it would have been, had not an incident oc- 
 curred which was destined to change the current of 
 his life.
 
 CHAPTEB XV 
 
 THE NEW TRUSTY 
 
 As Major Donaldson was passing through the 
 stone-yard one morning on his usual rounds of the 
 prison, he noticed a group of convicts engaged in 
 moving into position a particularly heavy slab of 
 granite, preparatory to cutting it, and stopped for a 
 moment to watch them. 
 
 Through carelessness, or perhaps inattention due 
 to the knowledge that the warden was watching 
 them, the men who were supporting one side of the 
 stone let it fall squarely upon the leg of one of their 
 number, lacerating it frightfully and pinning him 
 to the ground. The unfortunate fellow gave a sharp 
 cry of pain and fainted dead away, while his com- 
 panions stood helplessly by, staring dumbly at the 
 victim of their awkwardness. 
 
 Instinctively the Major hastened toward the un- 
 fortunate prisoner with the intention of directing 
 his extrication from a painful and dangerous predic- 
 ament. Before he could reach the injured man a 
 convict who was close at hand seized a piece of scant- 
 ling that was lying near, rushed to the scene of the 
 accident and peremptorily ordering several of the 
 group of men who stood about the stone to assist 
 him in raising the heavy mass, inserted the lever 
 beneath it and elevated it sufficiently to allow the 
 prostrate man's companions to pull him free. The
 
 242 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 rescuer then turned the matter over to the guards, 
 who by this time had arrived on the scene. A stretch- 
 er was brought and the injured man removed to the 
 hospital. 
 
 The warden watched the proceedings with sympa- 
 thetic interest and, after seeing the poor fellow on 
 his way to the hospital, accosted the convict who had 
 succored his comrade. 
 
 ' 'That was well done, my man," he remarked, 
 warmly; "you have great presence of mind." 
 
 The prisoner touched his cap. 
 
 ''It was nothing, sir," he modestly replied; "the 
 other men probably would have thought of the same 
 thing themselves if they had not been so shocked 
 and surprised by the accident." 
 
 The warden looked narrowly at the convict, noting 
 with interest the man's refinement of language and 
 manner. 
 
 "But, all the same, they didn't think of it, and you 
 did. It was good work, my man good work!" 
 
 Mentally noting the convict's number, the kindly 
 old Major passed on, following the stretcher to the 
 hospital to learn the extent of the prisoner's in- 
 juries and see that he received proper attention. 
 
 As the injured man was a "lifer" and never again 
 could be compelled to work, he was the envied of all 
 observers when he was convalescent and began to 
 stump around on the wooden leg with which the 
 state so generously had provided him. The preva- 
 lent convict sentiment was; "Ain't he the lucky 
 guy?" 
 
 A few days later Major Donaldson instructed his 
 secretary to inform Deputy Warden McCabe that 
 he wished to have No. 515 taken out of the stone-
 
 THE NEW TRUSTY 243 
 
 yard gang and assigned as a trusty to duty at the 
 warden's office, as messenger and general helper. 
 
 The stone-yard having become intolerable, No. 
 515 received his appointment as trusty with great 
 joy and appreciation of the privilege conferred upon 
 him. 
 
 With the native political shrewdness of his race, 
 tempered by long official experience, McCabe climbed 
 into the band-wagon and gave 515 a new cell-mate 
 in the person of a clever counterfeiter, who was 
 boarding at Sing Sing at the expense of the United 
 States Government. 
 
 This man instinctively was a gentleman, and unde- 
 niably an artist, "gone wrong." He had been an 
 employe of a bond engraving house, where he had 
 learned too much for his own good. He had found 
 the art of deception by his pen very fascinating, 
 and had done one of the cleverest bits of counter- 
 feiting that ever had come under the notice of the 
 government. His crime consisted of counterfeiting 
 Avith a pen, a single one hundred dollar bill ! 
 
 Strange to say, it was not cupidity that caused the 
 downfall of No. 1028. By working at his regular 
 profession at the high salary paid such artists, the 
 counterfeiter could have earned in the time consumed 
 in making the counterfeit, three times the amount 
 represented by the figure on the note ! The bill was 
 a beautiful specimen of pen- work, and as an artistic 
 production alone, was well worth its counterfeit 
 value. 
 
 A few of the better informed may understand that 
 this man's crime was due to his artistic ideals. He 
 was so confident of his skill and so proud of his 
 talent that he could not be content with anything
 
 244 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 less than deceiving Uncle Sam by a magnificent piece 
 of art work. 
 
 The work did not quite deceive the government 
 experts as to its genuineness, but they missed its 
 underlying motive as did numerous others, who 
 knew more of money and the law of the land than 
 of the artistic temperament which so enjoys " put- 
 ting one over" on those whose business it is not to 
 be fooled. 
 
 e When the Chief of the United States Secret Ser- 
 vice laid hands on the above mentioned work of art, 
 he was amazed at the fidelity and beauty of the 
 drawing. Discovering on close inspection that the 
 bogus one hundred dollar note had been made with 
 pen and ink, every stroke of which represented the 
 highest priced art in the profession of engraving, 
 the chief exclaimed : 
 
 "Well, I'll be damned! Was there ever such a 
 fool on God's green earth?" 
 
 The chief himself had " temperament" and knew 
 a thing of beauty when he saw it. As he committed 
 the bill to the flames he sighed, "What a pity!" and 
 as the beautiful creation curled and crackled and 
 was consumed he said, with a puzzled air, "I can't 
 understand it." 
 
 Of course he couldn't understand it. And yet it 
 was so simple. A true work of art is a work of 
 love, and counterfeiting is not the only crime that 
 has been committed for the love of art for art's 
 sake ; nor was No. 1028 the only artist who ever has 
 been immured within prison walls for serving his 
 art better than he served Society. 
 
 Crime, after all, merely is misapplied energy. It 
 sometimes is misdirected genius the genius of art, 
 science, invention or finance.
 
 THE NEW TEUSTY 245 
 
 And so, kind sirs, sweet charity, or, what is much 
 the same thing, a better understanding and a bet- 
 ter " system." 
 
 No. 515 found his new cell-mate "breathable," 
 thereby differing from the unwholesome atmos- 
 phere created by the ebon-hued Senegambian with 
 whom he previously had shared his narrow quarters. 
 
 No. 1028 also was congenial. He had enjoyed a 
 fine education, much worldly experience, and was 
 artistic to his finger tips. Moreover, he could whis- 
 per most entertainingly and discreetly, sustaining 
 his end of a conversation almost under the very noses 
 of the guards. 
 
 After No. 515 himself had mastered the difficult 
 art of conversation under his breath, the two men 
 beguiled both the time and the guards. 
 
 Like 515, No. 1028 also had ideals. 
 
 Ideals in a prison? Yes, of course chiefly among 
 the prisoners, it must be admitted, but, to give the 
 system its due, they sometimes are found even 
 among the officials. 
 
 Now and then there is a convict or an official who 
 takes ideals into prison with him and escapes the dead- 
 level pressure from above and the dead-level pull 
 from below that would force the one into the common 
 criminal mould of helplessness, dull despair and 
 moral and mental anesthesia, and the other into the 
 common official trend of callous indifference, besot- 
 ted ignorance and merciless inhumanity. 
 
 There was but one limitation to the range of sub- 
 jects discussed by our two convict "numbers." The 
 subject of murder and murderers was studiously 
 avoided. 
 
 No. 515 had told his story to his new cell-mate
 
 246 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 early in the course of their acquaintance, and had re- 
 ceived a shock that cured him of all disposition to 
 again unfold the tale of his martyrdom. No. 1028 
 listened very attentively, with a politeness which a 
 Chesterfield might have envied, but it was evident 
 to 515 that his artistic companion did not believe 
 his story. 
 
 The elaborate care with which 1028 thereafter 
 avoided all reference to the particular form of crime 
 for which his cell-mate had been unjustly imprisoned, 
 was most exasperating to the latter, but there was 
 nothing to do save to endure it as philosophically as 
 he could. Then, too, on sober second thought, No. 515 
 could not logically blame his partner in misery, 
 whose attitude was that of everybody else in the 
 prison world and could be supported by the official 
 records, should any doubt arise. 
 
 After he had got his bearings, the only thing that 
 really hurt No. 515 was the intuitive knowledge that 
 the counterfeiter considered himself to be built of 
 clay superior to his "bunky." Being an artist and 
 unashamed of his own work for he claimed that he 
 had been sentenced merely because those ineffable 
 asses, the government officials, could not appreciate 
 the most wonderful and beautiful work of art ever 
 penned No. 1028 had rather definite ideas of his 
 own regarding murderers. 
 
 The counterfeiter did, however, rather grudgingly 
 admit that certain carefully selected murderers were 
 in a class immediately below his own profession in 
 the criminal social scale. Primarily, this was not 
 because he was biased in favor of his cell-mate, but 
 because he was a wise observer. He had a profound 
 contempt for dips, burglars and night-prowlers of 
 their kin, sneak-thieves and lush workers. Yeggmen
 
 THE NEW TRUSTY 247 
 
 he might have recognized as heroes there was haz- 
 ard in the "soup" and much danger in " cracking 
 the box" and making a "get-away" were it not 
 that their heroics began and ended in theft ordi- 
 nary, vulgar theft. 
 
 ' ' Caste ' ' among criminals f Certainly : The yegg- 
 man looks down upon the ordinary burglar; they 
 both despise the pickpocket, and both are despised 
 by the "stick-up" man; the shoplifter views with 
 contempt the female abortionist and so on all along 
 the line. Murder brings the professional criminal 
 into the heroic ranks of the gun-men and who in 
 gangland carries his head higher? 
 
 And why should one marvel at this? Are not all 
 professions lacking in the sense of humor? 
 
 Taken by and large, the accident that happened 
 in the stone-yard, although it cost the poor fellow 
 who sustained it the loss of his leg, was a Godsend 
 to him and to No. 515 especially to the latter. His 
 duties as a trusty were light, and while the mere 
 fact that he was a trusty made him unpopular with 
 the other convicts for among inmates in prisons, 
 "trusty" ever was synonymous with "snitch" he 
 found his new position at least endurable. 
 
 Best of all was the opportunity afforded him for 
 reading and study. On several occasions he had 
 the opportunity to make himself useful to the prison 
 chaplain, who had charge of the library. The rev- 
 erend gentleman took a fancy to him and arranged 
 matters with the warden so that the trusty could 
 spend considerable time among the books. 
 
 No. 515 was an ardent book-lover, and the library 
 being stocked with a fairly well selected assortment 
 of volumes on every conceivable topic, life now was
 
 248 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 as comfortable as it could have been made in prison, 
 and, inasmuch as day by day he was adding to his 
 store of knowledge, he did not feel that his time 
 was entirely wasted. 
 
 The chaplain was a sincere, kindly, dear old man, 
 who would have done a great work among the pris- 
 oners, had he thrown a little less responsibility upon 
 the soul and more upon the body. With rare judg- 
 ment he felt that it was of little use to labor for the 
 conversion of 515. The clergyman had common 
 sense sufficient to know that the beneficences of God 
 do not loom large upon the horizon of a free-thinker 
 confined in prison for a crime which he claimed he 
 did not commit. As for the argument that the pris- 
 oner's woes were designed by the Almighty as a 
 punishment for his untheologic bias, the chaplain 
 was too wise to advance it, even if he himself believed 
 it, which he most emphatically did not. 
 
 As the new trusty responded to the influence of his 
 more congenial environment, his mind became less 
 apathetic and, although without influential friends 
 to intercede for him or the development of any fea- 
 ture of his case which would suggest that it might be 
 re-opened, he began to hope that something would 
 happen which would clear his name and give him his 
 liberty. Such is the elasticity of youth! And all 
 because he had been placed in a position where he 
 was treated as if he were half-way human and not, 
 as he had been for more than half a year, a mere bi- 
 pedal brute, toiling without fee or reward for cruel 
 masters ! 
 
 Victim of cruel circumstances though he was ; en- 
 meshed in the toils of inexorable social custom ; im- 
 mured within the grim and unfeeling walls of a pris- 
 on; the companion of Society's dregs and off scour-
 
 THE NEW TRUSTY 249 
 
 ings; a social pariah with the primeval brand of 
 Cain upon him; scorned and rejected of men; friend- 
 less, alone, and apparently* abandoned by fate, No. 
 515 now was willing to believe that, somehow, some- 
 where, sometime, his sun must shine again, and the 
 moon and stars shed their silvery beams upon the 
 world that now was but a monster shape of dense 
 and awful gloom. 
 
 How fortunate it was for human kind that, when 
 Pandora broke that marvellous box, hope was not 
 spilled along with the rest of the stuff.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST IN HIS LAIB 
 
 It was a balmy morning in April. The warden's 
 secretary, Howard Duryea, an alert, competent 
 young man whom Major Donaldson had brought 
 with him from Ithaca, his own home town, was busily 
 engaged in putting the office in order in anticipation 
 of the appearance of his chief, whom he momen- 
 tarily expected. 
 
 From time to time he interrupted his task and 
 glanced put of one of the large windows which 
 opened directly upon a stone-flagged courtyard, en- 
 closed upon the side toward the river by the main 
 wall of the prison. The view from the window was 
 a beautiful one, although marred by numerous sor- 
 did details peculiar to prisons. 
 
 The warden's office was elevated sufficiently to 
 enable Duryea to look over and beyond the massive, 
 gray, forbidding stone wall at the Hudson, which 
 was sparkling and shimmering in the sunlight like 
 a stream of molten silver. Beyond the river he saw 
 the beautiful verdure-bedecked Catskills, above 
 which floated huge banks of cumulus and long soft 
 fleeces of cirrhus clouds that resembled masses of 
 carded wool. At the base of the mountains lay the 
 morning mist, which was slowly rising and dissi- 
 pating before the warm rays of the sun. Through 
 the mist could be seen the spectral picturesque shapes 
 of several windmills on farms on the opposite shore.
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 251 
 
 Just above the river, keeping a keen lookout for the 
 breakfast which the stream never failed to supply 
 them, soared a flock of snowy-breasted gulls. 
 
 Now and again a pleasure yacht, with white sails 
 full set and bellying in the soft morning breeze, 
 swept by. Occasionally there appeared in the 
 distance a bevy of small sailboats, looking for all 
 the world like a lot of chips propelled by white 
 handkerchiefs for sails. An occasional skiff, con- 
 taining merry girls and their swains, toiled along, 
 impelled by willing arms and more or less skilfully 
 bandied oars. Several large excursion steamers, 
 with bands playing popular music, puffed by, loaded 
 with joyous, mirthful pleasure-seekers bound down 
 stream. 
 
 "Heigho!" sighed Duryea, "This is the sort of 
 morning that makes a man feel too strong to work. 
 Those boats certainly look good to me, especially 
 those steamers bound for little old New York." 
 
 The young man was brought back to earth by 
 the sight of a uniformed, somber, cartridge-belted 
 sentry, who stepped out of the sentry-box that stood 
 on the top at the corner of the wall. Leaning on his 
 loaded rifle, the guard gazed out over the river as 
 if he too, had a longing for nature or, what was more 
 likely, for some of the devil's inventions devised by 
 that good little gentleman in black with the assist- 
 ance of man, for the malevolent purpose of keeping 
 a poor prison sentry from devoting his entire atten- 
 tion to duty. 
 
 The secretary noted also, that in order to view 
 the scene which had so strongly attracted him, he 
 himself unconsciously had drawn near the window 
 and was peering out through the unesthetic lattice 
 of steel with which it was guarded.
 
 252 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Humph ! " he exclaimed facetiously, * ' in the midst 
 of life we are in the pen ! A fellow can 't even get a 
 rubber at nature or a glimpse of freedom that isn't 
 filtered through a gridiron. The Lord help those 
 poor striped devils that can't get out after hours !" 
 
 He glanced at the clock. 
 
 "Great Scott! look at the time. The Major'll be 
 here in a minute, and if he ever catches me lying 
 down on the job well, he'll have me court-martialed 
 and shot at sunrise, or cashiered, or reduced to the 
 ranks, or whatever punishment fits the crime in the 
 army!" 
 
 The young man smiled indulgently as he recalled 
 the warden's pet notions of discipline, then complet- 
 ing his task of putting things into shape, seated him- 
 self at his own diminutive desk and began scrib- 
 bling away at some correspondence. 
 
 Granting that one did not look at the iron-barred 
 doors and the steel lattice of the windows, the in- 
 terior of the warden's office at Sing Sing was pleas- 
 antly suggestive of the sanctum of an up-to-date 
 business man of the outer world. On one side of 
 the room stood a huge flat-topped, mahogany library 
 table-desk, heaped with a miscellaneous array of 
 books and papers, a large letter press and files, and 
 other ordinary office "junk." 
 
 A comfortable, swivel office chair at one side and a 
 huge leather upholstered easy chair at one end of the 
 desk, with a number of smaller mahogany chairs, 
 completed the furniture of the room. The walls 
 were hung with a rich and tasty paper, and on the 
 floor were several luxurious rugs of cheerful design. 
 On the wall, just behind the desk, hung a couple 
 of fine specimens of Old Glory and a pair of crossed 
 business-like cavalry sabers. 
 
 As the young secretary often had remarked, the
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 253 
 
 warden's office was "not half bad, considering its 
 location and street number. ' ' 
 
 Around the room, against the walls, stood the 
 "morgue" cases of filing cabinets containing the 
 prisoners' records, descriptions, measurements and 
 ' ' mugs, ' ' hundreds and hundreds of them. The Ber- 
 tillon system was not yet in vogue, hence these rec- 
 ords were very crude and incomplete compared with 
 those of today. 
 
 Duryea finished his letters and clasping his hands 
 behind his head leaned back lazily in his chair. Glanc- 
 ing at the calendar on the wall, he sprang to his 
 feet and remarked aloud: 
 
 "By Jove! I almost forgot. It's visitor's day. 
 That means interruptions all day long, and double 
 work tomorrow to catch up. There's work enough 
 ahead for ten men at that. It's the first day of the 
 month, too!" 
 
 "Hello, there, Kid!" interrupted a voice from the 
 door "What's eatin' ye?" 
 
 Duryea turned toward the speaker and discovered 
 Deputy Warden McCabe, who had entered just in 
 time to hear a portion of the secretary's soliloquy. 
 
 The young man straightened up with mock dignity 
 and gave a military salute. 
 
 "Sir? "he exclaimed. 
 
 "Beg pardon, Mr. Duryea, I forgot." McCabe 
 grinned broadly as he answered the salute. 
 
 "That's better, sir," commented Duryea, pom- 
 pously, and they both laughed heartily. 
 
 "Good mornin', Howard." 
 
 "Good morning, Mac." 
 
 "Now that we're properly introduced," inquired 
 McCabe, "what was the particular beef ye was mak- 
 in' when I broke in on ye?" 
 
 1 ' Oh, I was kicking about visitor 's day. It 's a con-
 
 254 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 founded nuisance! I wish the Major would either 
 close the office on visitor's day and let us all go 
 fishing, or lock the door and keep everybody out 
 except the people who have business here and it 
 wouldn't hurt to enforce the lock-out on some of 
 them." 
 
 "Well," said McCabe sententiously, "there may 
 be a difference of opinion about the nuisance. Some 
 o ' the guests o ' this old tavern might not agree with 
 ye." 
 
 "That's right, Mac," replied the secretary, apolo- 
 getically, "but one doesn't always think about the 
 other fellow." 
 
 McCabe noticed the empty chair at the desk. 
 
 "Where's the Major, Howard?" 
 
 "Don't know." The secretary glanced at the clock. 
 "He should be here by now. Maybe he's trying to 
 dodge visitor's day." 
 
 "To be real honest with ye," grinned McCabe, "I 
 wouldn't blame the old man much. It's one o' the 
 days when I'm glad I ain't boss o' the works." 
 
 "Hope the Major is better natured today, Mac. 
 He had a grouch on yesterday that was something 
 fierce." 
 
 "What was he peeved at?" inquired McCabe with 
 a forced effort to appear innocently disinterested. 
 
 "As if you didn't know as well as I do !" retorted 
 Duryea indignantly. "You know blamed well what 
 ails the Major. He's still as sore as a boil about 
 that poor cuss that Gleason shot the other day. ' ' 
 
 "Sure, I know," admitted McCabe, gloomily, "but 
 where the devil do we get off? If one o' these 
 blamed birds makes his get-away, we catch hell! 
 If we pot him, we catch hell an' get in Dutch all 
 around. We're damned if we do, an' damned if we
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 255 
 
 don't. What's a feller to do? Good jobs are mighty 
 scarce these days." 
 
 "Yes, Mac," chaffed the secretary, "soft snaps 
 are scarce and you've held yours only twenty years, 
 eh? Poor old chap! It's when a fellow gets too 
 strong for real work that he makes a holler about 
 good jobs being hard to get." 
 
 "Well, you've got some soft snap, yerself, if any- 
 body asks ye," sneered McCabe. "People in glass 
 houses better not practice with sling-shots." 
 
 "Oh, I don't know! Perhaps I have got a soft 
 snap. But say, McCabe, I often wish I were a big, 
 husky brute like you. ' ' 
 
 "Prize ring, eh?" grinned McCabe. 
 
 "Almost anything but a man-herder," blazed 
 Duryea. 
 
 "Good shot!" chuckled McCabe. "The old man 
 knew what he was doin ' when he hired you. Chicken 
 heart met yellow kid that day." 
 
 "Say, Mac, I wonder how the Major would like 
 to hear that?" 
 
 "He'd be pretty hot, I reckon," replied McCabe, 
 "but he's not goin' to hear it and," he added sig- 
 nificantly, "you'll not tell him, either. See?" 
 
 Duryea looked the chief deputy in the eye for a 
 moment and replied, * * That 's a bet ! but not because 
 I'm afraid. Don't you forget that." 
 
 McCabe satirically eyed the young man from head 
 to foot, and working his arms in imitation of the 
 flapping of a rooster's wings cried, "Cock a doodle 
 doo!" 
 
 "Yes," retorted Durea, angrily, " 'Cock a doodle 
 doo ! ' lout I 'm the old blue hen 's chicken, and he 's 
 got gaffs to back up his crow with. Just put that 
 in your memory book and mark the page."
 
 256 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Oh, come off, Kid!" exclaimed McCabe, good 
 naturally ; ' ' let 's cut out the rough stuff. It 's no use 
 chewin' the rag and tryin' to take a fall out o' each 
 other. We can't either of us find a place to get off, 
 if we begin that." 
 
 "All right, Mac, we'll let it go at that," growled 
 Duryea, "but be careful how you slam the Major. 
 I'm mighty strong for him." 
 
 "So am" I, Kid, for the matter o' that. I didn't 
 really mean to knock him. He's a dead game old 
 sport, even if he is a bit daffy on some things an' 
 I like him. You see, Howard, it's this way: I've 
 been on one job or another in this dump for twen- 
 ty years, as you said started at the bottom and 
 worked up. Had a good pull an' they couldn't can 
 me. See? I've seen a lot o' stunts pulled off, my 
 boy, under the old system, an' the Major's new- 
 fangled notions jar me; that's all. P'raps it's be- 
 cause it's hard for an old dog to learn new tricks." 
 
 "Even good ones, ehf" laughed Duryea, laying 
 his hand in friendly fashion on the deputy warden's 
 arm. "What's the matter with the Major's new- 
 fangled notions, Mac? What is it that jars you?" 
 
 "Oh, hell!" blurted McCabe, "he's spoilin' the 
 prisoners! They're gettin' so cocky that there's no 
 livin' with 'em. Why, they're beginnin' to think 
 they're all nice little gentlemen." 
 
 "Oh, I see," retorted Duryea, ironically; "the 
 guards can't stand that sort of competition. The 
 line between guards and guarded musn't be too 
 sharply drawn, eh?" 
 
 1 * Oh, cut it out, Kid ! You know what I mean. ' ^ 
 
 "Hey! Close up there, you damned scuts!" cried 
 an angry voice just outside the window. 
 
 The two men looked out into the prison yard and
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 257 
 
 saw a long file of convicts lock-stepping past 
 under the charge of several guards. 
 
 "Yes," replied Duryea, quietly, "I know what 
 you mean better than you do. He 's trying to teach 
 the prisoners self-respect, while you, ' ' and he point- 
 ed to the somber file of convicts who still were shuf- 
 fling by, "you prefer that striped, crawling human 
 centipede, as the Major calls it, a blot upon the fair 
 face of civilization, that poisons and kills the man- 
 hood and self-respect of every man that gets into 
 it. Look at those faces ! All look alike, don't they? 
 Cringing, ashamed, leaden hopeless! Just as the 
 Major says cut your hair and mine, stick us into 
 stripes and put us into that shuffling gang of crushed 
 humanity, and we'd be just like the other joints of 
 that awful beast." 
 
 "Well, what the devil are you goin' to do with 
 'em?" 
 
 "Ask the warden," answered Duryea, quietly. 
 
 "Ask the warden!" protested McCabe. "I know 
 just what I 'd get. He 'd give me a lecture on ventila- 
 tion an' whitewash, good food an' soap an' water, 
 mental development an ' gymnasiums, military disci- 
 pline an' the milk o' human kindness. A hell of a 
 combination, that! Bah! Prisoners are prisoners 
 the scum o' the earth, that's what!" 
 
 ' ' Some are, not all, ' ' contradicted Duryea. "Any- 
 how, who's to blame? Major Donaldson says that 
 Society is responsible for its own scum and its ow~ 
 dregs, and that the difference between the two is 
 that the scum has money and education, and a chance 
 for itself, and the dregs never had any of those 
 things." 
 
 "Huh! 'Me an' the Major,' eh?" grunted McCabe, 
 obstinately. "Even if he was right, the preachin'
 
 258 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 game wouldn't help any not so you could notice 
 it." 
 
 "The Major never preaches!" returned Duryea, 
 testily. "He leaves that to the chaplain and priest. 
 He says, get their blood right and their brains right 
 first then let the preachers do their damnedest. ' ' 
 
 McCabe shrugged his shoulders and said some- 
 thing under his breath, but made no audible com- 
 ment. 
 
 "The trouble is, Mac," continued the young dis- 
 ciple of the new idea, loftily, "that the Major is 
 several thousand years ahead of you and those 
 other rough-necks those cave-men in uniform, ' ' and 
 he nodded in the general direction of the deputy 
 warden's and guards' quarters. 
 
 "I don't know much about cave-men," said Mc- 
 Cabe, doubtfully, "but I do know that between the 
 sky pilots, the old hen social reformers, and an old- 
 soldier warden full o' hobbies, us old-timers are 
 likely to have a hell of a time with the prisoners 
 an' no pitch hot. That's a livin' cinch." 
 
 "Well," asked Duryea, with a twinkle of amused 
 anticipation in his eye, "what would you do about 
 it, old man ? ' ' 
 
 "What would 7 do about it? Hell! that's dead 
 easy, son. I'd do just what we did before we took 
 the Major on. The butt of a six-shooter can out- 
 talk the warden an' out-preach the preacher. It 
 takes the solitary an' about a week o' bread an' 
 water eats ter get a prisoner in a prayerful frame 
 o' mind, and," McCabe continued, earnestly, "you've 
 no idea how easy it is ter reason with a feller that 's 
 strung up by the thumbs." 
 
 "Oh, wake up, McCabe !" exclaimed Duryea, wear- 
 ily; " you make me tired. ' '
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 259 
 
 "Wake up, nothin'! I wish ter God I was only 
 dreamin' bad dreams. The hope o' wakin' up is the 
 best I'll ever get while the Major's holdin' down that 
 chair yonder unless he wakes up an' I don't guess 
 he will." 
 
 A step was heard in the hall. 
 
 "S sh!" whispered the secretary, warningly; 
 "here he comes now!" 
 
 McCabe stood at attention, whilst Duryea busied 
 himself arranging the books and papers on the war- 
 den 's desk. 
 
 Major Donaldson bustled in, and pausing just 
 within the door stood erect in all his martial dignity, 
 as stiff as though he were on parade, expectantly 
 surveying his secretary and the chief deputy. 
 
 Duryea followed McCabe 's example and came to 
 attention. Both men clicked their heels together 
 and brought their right hands up in formal military 
 salute. 
 
 The Major returned the salute and greeted them 
 ceremoniously. 
 
 1 * Good morning, Mr. McCabe. Good morning, Mr. 
 Duryea. ' ' 
 
 ' i Good morning, sir, ' ' replied both men in chorus. 
 
 The Major seated himself at his desk and said, 
 with great impressiveness : 
 
 "Permit me to say, gentlemen, that the manner 
 in which you just now received me shows great im- 
 provement. I really believe I shall succeed in mak- 
 ing soldiers of you, after all. Raise your chin just 
 a trifle higher, Mr. McCabe and throw your shoul- 
 ders back just a shade more, Mr. Duryea." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied McCabe respectfully, tilting 
 up his chin. 
 
 "Thank you, sir," said the secretary, throwing
 
 260 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 back his shoulders and protruding his chest like a 
 pouter pigeon. 
 
 "That's better," commented the Major, evidently 
 pleased. 
 
 The two students of etiquette and carriage mili- 
 tant, remaining at attention, winked and smiled at 
 each other surreptitiously while the Major was pot- 
 tering with some papers in a drawer of his desk. 
 
 The warden closed the drawer with a snap, turned 
 toward the chief deputy and asked abruptly, but 
 with a solicitude which his brusquerie ill concealed: 
 
 "How's the good wife, this morning, McCabe 
 and that wonderful twelve-pound boy?" 
 
 "Both doin' well, sir, thank you." 
 
 "Give Mrs. McCabe my congratulations and re- 
 gards, and tell her to move herself and that young- 
 ster out of jail into the country, as soon as the doc- 
 tor will give her a ticket of leave. I'll parole the 
 boy." 
 
 "Yes, sir," replied McCabe, soberly; "that'll 
 please her and tickle the boy most to death." 
 
 The warden turned to his secretary. 
 
 "How's the pleurisy, Howard?" 
 
 "I'm so much better, sir," Duryea answered, mer- 
 rily, "that Dr. Lyford says I'm a malingerer. He 
 threatened to have me locked up on a bread and 
 water diet." 
 
 "What! Lyford said that! Quite put of date, 
 sir quite out of date ! And very ineffective. Why " 
 The Major suddenly noted the by-play of grins and 
 winks between McCabe and Duryea. 
 
 "Eh? What the deuce Ah, yes, I see, the doc- 
 tor will have his little joke." 
 
 "Any orders, sir?" inquired McCabe. 
 
 "Nothing, except that I want the prisoners in
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 261 
 
 chapel at half -past seven this evening. I am going 
 to give them a talk." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The chief deputy saluted and left the office. As 
 he passed the secretary on his way out, he muttered 
 in that gentleman's ear: "Say, Kid, I'll have a 
 hunk o' frosted cake with plums in it, an' a bunch 
 o' hot-house violets ready for each o' them striped- 
 backed gents at tonight's reception." 
 
 McCabe paused at the door just long enough to 
 exchange grins with Duryea and then disappeared. 
 
 "Mr. Duryea," said the warden, "kindly ask Dr. 
 Lyf ord to come to the office. ' ' 
 
 The secretary went to the speaking tube, called 
 the surgeon, informed him that the warden would 
 like to see him, and returned to his work. A moment 
 later the doctor entered, and, saluting the warden, 
 quietly awaited his pleasure. 
 
 "Good morning, Doctor, how is No. 700?" 
 
 "He is doing finely, sir. The ball did not pene- 
 trate the skull, as I at first thought. It flattened on 
 the bone, passed around the head beneath the scalp 
 and lodged just below the occiput. I extracted it 
 very easily. Here it is, sir, much the worse for 
 wear," and he handed the ball to the warden. 
 
 Major Donaldson examined the missile with the 
 eye of a connoisseur. 
 
 "Humph ! Pretty well knocked out of shape; isn't 
 it, Doctor? It's no wonder that it does so little good 
 to preach to criminals." 
 
 Ah!" laughed the doctor, "but they are not all 
 like that, sir. I posted one the other day who had a 
 skull like a paper-shell almond." 
 
 "Well, Doctor, I suppose it makes very little dif- 
 ference whether a convict's head is so thick that
 
 262 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 you can't beat any sense into it with a club, or so 
 thin that what little he has leaks out. It's all the 
 same in the long run. Criminals are not built right, 
 any way you take them. ' ' 
 
 " Very true, sir." 
 
 Dr. Lyford caught a quizzical glance from the 
 secretary's eye and suppressed a smile. 
 
 "I'm mighty glad that man is going to pull 
 through, Doctor," continued the Major. "How are 
 the rest of the patients ? ' ' 
 
 "They all are doing well, sir, thank you." 
 
 "Have you had any trouble in getting the extra 
 diet?" 
 
 "None whatever, sir." 
 
 "Glad to hear it. If things don't go to suit you, 
 report to me at once. The hospital first, every 
 time." 
 
 "Thank you. Anything more, sir?" 
 
 1 ' Nothing, ' ' said the warden, saluting the surgeon 
 to indicate that the interview was ended. 
 
 Major Donaldson returned to his official papers, 
 grumbling aloud to himself. 
 
 "I suppose we'll have the usual crowd of curios- 
 ity-seekers today. It wouldn't be so bad if there 
 weren't so many who demand the warden's personal 
 attention. Well," he growled, "they'll get short 
 shrift. It's the first day of the month, and business 
 is business. Oh, by the way, Mr. Duryea," he called 
 to his secretary, who had been amusedly listening 
 to his grumbling, "Ask Mr. McCabe to order Glea- 
 son to report to me at once." 
 
 The secretary obeyed, via the speaking tube, then, 
 turning to the warden, quietly asked, ' ' Shall I leave 
 the room, sir?"
 
 BEAEDING A HOBBYIST 263 
 
 ''By no means. Remain at your desk and inci- 
 dentally take notes of the conversation." 
 
 A moment later a burly, uniformed, hard-looking 
 fellow of some forty years of age slouched in and 
 stood doggedly expectant. 
 
 The warden coolly surveyed the guard for a mo- 
 ment and then said, explosively; "Well!" 
 
 "W why, you s sent for me, sir," stammered 
 the guard. 
 
 "Well sir!" thundered the Major. 
 
 Suddenly recollecting, the guard saluted in a surly 
 fashion. 
 
 "Beg your pardon, sir, I didn't think." 
 
 "That's better, sir," returned the Major, some- 
 what mollified. 
 
 He looked at Gleason steadily for a moment. 
 
 "I suppose you have heard, Gleason, that the man 
 you shot is going to pull through?" 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 "That ought to relieve your conscience, if you 
 have any. Let me tell you something, Gleason, ' ' the 
 warden continued sternly, "I've looked up your rec- 
 ord in this institution, and I find that you hold the 
 diamond belt for brutality and gun-play and you 've 
 been here only three years, at that. Take my ad- 
 vice; be mighty careful hereafter with that cannon 
 of yours. ' ' 
 
 "Well," asked Gleason, doggedly, with just a 
 shade of impudence in his manner, "what d'ye ex- 
 pect us to do let 'em get away?" 
 
 Major Donaldson rose from his chair with a 
 snap of his entire six feet, and replied, sharply; "I 
 expect you to do your duty, my man, nothing 
 more."
 
 264 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "What d' ye call my duty, sir!" 
 
 "You know your duty, Gleason!" thundered the 
 Major. "It is not necessary to rehearse it. And 
 there's something else, my friend, that you'd best 
 remember: Sing Sing prison is no place to settle 
 either political debts or personal grudges. ' ' 
 
 "I I don't understand, sir." 
 
 "Oh, yes you do," and by way of emphasis, the 
 warden struck the desk a resounding whack with a 
 bundle of papers he held in his hand. "You've 
 been persecuting that man ever since he entered the 
 prison chiefly because, when he was free, he was 
 too active on the wrong side of the political fence. 
 
 "And what's more," pursued the Major, with ris- 
 ing anger, "you had a little account to settle with 
 him for certain parties in New York City. That 
 prisoner knows too much to suit you anid your 
 friends, Gleason. I'm morally certain that you laid 
 a trap for him made it look easy, let him get away, 
 and then shot him. One more break on your part 
 and I '11 break you. ' ' 
 
 "B but sir, I" 
 
 ' ' That will do, my man ! Good morning, ' ' and the 
 warden resumed his chair and his work. 
 
 Gleason scowlingly slouched toward the door. 
 
 An afterthought occurred to the Major, and he 
 called after the guard; "Oh, by the way, Gleason." 
 
 The guard stopped and turned toward the chief. 
 
 "Prisoners," said the Major, with impressive de- 
 liberation, "sometimes have long memories and 
 most of them finally get out of jail. Cassidy, you 
 will remember, was pretty mean to several of them. 
 Like you, he probably had some little debts to pay. 
 He went away on leave one night and didn't get
 
 BEARDING A HOBBYIST 265 
 
 back. You know what happened. He was found 
 next morning down by the river, with his brains 
 beaten out! I suspect you can guess who did it. 
 Think it over, my friend. ' ' 
 
 Gleason did not reply, but when he reached the 
 outer hall where he could not be seen, he stopped 
 long enough to shake his fist in the warden's direc- 
 tion and express his opinion of that official. 
 
 " You '11 break me, will you, you big stiff? If you 
 stick yer damned nose into other people's business 
 too much, Bull Hennessy'll break you, quicker 'n a 
 monkey can take his hat off ! " 
 
 "A bad lot, that fellow," commented the Major, 
 "and there are others in this institution who are 
 on the wrong side of the bars. I'm bucking against 
 a rotten and vicious system, my boy, and I don't 
 know who is going to win. I sometimes fear I'll 
 lose out the fellow who tries to over-thfow time- 
 honored evils usually does lose out." 
 
 The Major sighed and looked thoughtfully out of 
 the window at the sentry who, with rifle on shoulder, 
 was marching past, and beyond him at the mountains 
 and the blue sky-line above their peaks. 
 
 "Yes, Major!" exclaimed the secretary, with the 
 enthusiasm and rosy optimism of youth; "but his 
 principles will live, if they are right. Eemember 
 John Brown, sir." 
 
 "Thanks for the encouragement, Howard, I was 
 thinking of him," replied the Major with grim hu- 
 mor. "And I remember the song, too. But, my 
 young friend, I am not a fanatic. When poor old 
 Ossawottamie Brown felt that cruel rope around 
 his neck, he probably derived some comfort out of 
 his dream of abolition, but I can't see where the
 
 266 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 fun came in. Judging by the way a tight collar an- 
 noys me," he laughed, "I don't believe that I'm the 
 sort of stuff of which martyrs are made. I'm a 
 pretty good soldier, my boy, but I'm just human 
 enough to want to accomplish results in the here and 
 now results I can live to see." The Major again 
 turned to his desk. 
 
 A convict in the garb of a trusty, with an envelope 
 in his hand, entered and stood awaiting the warden's 
 notice. 
 
 Major Donaldson looked up from his papers and 
 said, kindly; ''Well, my man?" 
 
 The man saluted and approaching the desk handed 
 the note to the warden. 
 
 "From Mr. McCabe, sir," he explained, respect- 
 fully. 
 
 The Major read the note and laying it on his desk, 
 said; "Tell Mr. McCabe that I'll take the matter up 
 with him later." 
 
 The prisoner saluted, "about faced" in military 
 fashion and departed on his mission. 
 
 "What do you make of that fellow, Howard?" 
 asked the warden. 
 
 "Why, he seems to be a misfit, somehow, sir." 
 
 "The same idea has occurred to me. That's why 
 I took him out of the stone-yard and made a trusty 
 of him. He certainly was a misfit breaking rocks. 
 He's a husky chap, at that. What's his record?" 
 
 The secretary went to the "morgue," opened a 
 drawer, and after a brief search, took from it a 
 card. 
 
 "Here it is, sir No. 515. Been in prison six 
 months. Serving a twenty-year term for manslaugh- 
 ter." 
 
 "Oh, I see. Ever notice, Howard, that on the av-
 
 BEABDING A HOBBYIST 267 
 
 erage, the man-killers are the most genteel and best- 
 behaved prisoners we have?" 
 
 ''Yes, sir, and I'll confess that it puzzles me." 
 
 ' ' The answer is easy, my boy. The law says that 
 the murderer is a criminal, but nine times out of 
 ten he isn't. He's just plain human, that's all, and 
 his primitive emotions 1 have overcome him. We're 
 all savages under the skin. Humph ! " he ejaculated, 
 " there never was a real man with red corpuscles in 
 his blood, that didn't have the germ of murder in 
 his system. We have to have a war now and then, to 
 get it out of us. That's why I don't believe that we'll 
 ever have world- wide, enduring peace. ' ' 
 
 Duryea listened with startled, wide-eyed interest, 
 drinking in every amazing syllable. 
 
 The Major went on, reminiscently : 
 
 "Why, I've known men to slip ball cartridges in 
 among the blanks and fire them at their comrades 
 in a sham battle ! And still, ' ' he continued, thought- 
 fully; "there are mighty few man-killers who are 
 not sorry that they did the killing. Murder is not 
 a profession nowadays, excepting with the law and 
 with governments. Most murderers have the 
 making of good citizens in them. The insane ones 
 and the crooks who kill in the way of business neces- 
 sity perhaps are the only exceptions. ' ' 
 
 The problem was too deep for Duryea to digest 
 immediately. He made no reply other than to re- 
 mark, as he replaced the record and closed the draw- 
 er, "Well, anyway, that man was a gentleman at 
 home, I dare say." 
 
 "Do you know any of the particulars of his case, 
 Howard?" 
 
 "Y yes, sir," answered Duryea, with some em- 
 barrassment. "You see, sir, I well, I was inter-
 
 268 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ested in him and I I got him to talking and Well, 
 I suppose it was hardly according to regulations 
 but" 
 
 "Eh?" interrupted the warden, brusquely, putting 
 his hand to his ear in a pretended effort to hear bet- 
 ter. "I don't hear you. I'm deaf in this ear. Nev- 
 er mind the regulations but don't do it again. 
 Well?" 
 
 "He's that man Parkyn, sir, who was convicted 
 of killing a laborer on the New York Central during 
 the big railroad strike. ' ' 
 
 "So, that's Parkyn, eh?" mused the warden. 
 
 "Yes, sir," enthused Duryea. "He's a Harvard 
 man, sir! and the greatest half-back that ever " 
 
 "That ever made the wrong goal," interrupted 
 the Major dryly, "I recall the case now. It was an 
 odd one, and there were some things about it that 
 looked a bit queer." 
 
 "He says he's innocent, sir." 
 
 "Indeed? Well, I've heard that before, many, 
 many times. And not all of them lied. But, my boy, 
 the trial's over, the court's adjourned and Sing 
 Sing isn't a good place for a come-back. More's 
 the pity, sometimes." 
 
 The Major paused to look at a file of convicts 
 under guard that was crawling by the window at a 
 snail's pace, to the usual dismal accompaniment of 
 the "shuffle" that never is heard outside of pris- 
 ons. 
 
 "Do you see that, Howard? WTien they are 
 trimmed alike, dressed alike, and put into that chain 
 that endless chain of misery which girdles and dis- 
 graces the world under a brutal guard or two, 
 nothing short of omniscience ever could separate the
 
 BEABDING A HOBBYIST 269 
 
 tares from the wheat. And that very gang con- 
 tains both." 
 
 The Major sighed and picking up some formidable 
 looking documents from the desk, said; "Mr. Dur- 
 yea, I believe I'll escape while I have the chance, 
 and leave you to run the office for a while. I should 
 like to finish my report, but I doubt my ability to do 
 it here." 
 
 "I'll do the best I can, sir, but I don't know what 
 I shall do with the star visitors. I'm not a high- 
 grade entertainer." 
 
 "Oh, I'm not quite inhuman, Howard," laughed 
 the warden. "I'll return and defend you as soon as 
 I have finished my report. There probably will not 
 be many visitors until afternoon, anyway." He 
 glanced at the clock. "I'll be back by eleven, I 
 think." 
 
 Duryea breathed a deep sigh of relief. 
 
 "You've saved my life, sir!" he said, with sin- 
 cere gratitude. 
 
 The Major laughed heartily at Duryea 's thank- 
 fulness at escaping what the young man evidently 
 considered a severe ordeal, and started for the door. 
 
 As he entered the hall he bumped squarely into 
 the prison matron, a stout, white-capped, motherly 
 middle-aged woman, who was just about to turn into 
 the door of the office! In her hand she carried a 
 large sheet of closely written paper. 
 
 The impact of the two rather corpulent figures 
 was distinctly demoralizing to both. They grunted 
 in unison and stood for several seconds gasping like 
 a couple of fishes just landed. 
 
 Duryea took in the comical situation with an ap- 
 preciation which was none the less keen when he
 
 270 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 recalled his chief's rigid ideas of military etiquette. 
 He chuckled to himself behind his hand. 
 
 " 'Raise the hand just a trifle higher, Mr. McCabe, 
 and throw your shoulders back just a shade more, 
 Mr. Duryea." 
 
 "Ah! What the dev ! I beg your pardon! 
 Good morning, Mrs. Morgan!" sputtered the war- 
 den, as soon as he had caught his breath. 
 
 The matron laughed almost hysterically, instant- 
 ly apologizing: 
 
 "You really must excuse me, sir, I I can't help 
 laughing. It was so so funny!" 
 
 The Major was all dignity at once. 
 
 "I congratulate you on your keen sense of humor, 
 madam," he said stiffly. Having contributed to the 
 gayety of nations and of Mrs. Morgan he con- 
 tinued, frigidly, "what else can I do for you?" 
 
 The matron was sobered at once. 
 
 "It is the diet list, sir. Will you please sign it?" 
 
 The Major returned to his desk, glanced rapidly 
 at the columns of items, signed the paper and dis- 
 missed the matron. As he again started for the 
 door, he slyly looked out of the corner of his eye in 
 Duryea's direction. That discreet and valuable per- 
 son was standing by the window, apparently gazing 
 off into the ethereal western blue on which were 
 limned the hazy outlines of the distant mountains.
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLER WHO GETS CALLED 
 
 After the Major had left the office, his secretary 
 worked at the prison records very diligently for 
 some time, accomplishing a prodigious amount of 
 work. Finishing everything in sight, he went to his 
 favorite place at the window and stood for a while, 
 dreamily gazing riverward and breathing in great 
 quantities of the invigorating air. 
 
 "Heigho!" he yawned; "this surely is one of the 
 mornings when a fellow feels like joining the Roy- 
 al Order of the Sons of Best. I'll bet I've got 
 spring fever. Wonder if the warden would mind if 
 I played hookey for a little while." He looked at 
 the clock and noted the time. 
 
 "Probably not," he grinned, "if he doesn't catch 
 me at it, and I'll be back on the job before he is, 
 believe me." His conscience gave him a slight jab 
 and he muttered: "There's nothing doing anyway 
 everything's cleaned up and I'll get a trusty to 
 watch the office. If any visitors come they'll be 
 tickled to death with him. ' ' 
 
 The secretary snickered as he thought of the fool 
 questions the poor trusty would have to answer as 
 a penalty for the privilege of talking which was one 
 of the indulgences granted to trusties. 
 
 Duryea took his hat from the rack and was about 
 to leave the office, when there came a slight rap at 
 the door.
 
 272 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Come in," he called. 
 
 The door opened and two brown-clad trusties en- 
 tered and came to attention. One of them saluted 
 in as soldierly a fashion as the most exacting mar- 
 tinet could have wished. The other made a very 
 poor showing, but Duryea was not in a critical mood. 
 Each of the prisoners was carrying several old 
 cloths in his hand. 
 
 "Gee! Here's two of 'em now made to order?" 
 chuckled the secretary, to himself. 
 
 "Well, what do you want!" he questioned, return- 
 ing the salute. 
 
 "Mr. McCabe ordered us to polish the desk, sir," 
 replied the taller of the two, who wore the number 
 515 upon his breast. 
 
 "The devil he did! What's struck McCabe, all 
 of a sudden ! This is some bad day to butt into this 
 office, but you can work until the Major comes back. 
 Get busy now, and be mighty careful not to scratch 
 the mahogany. The warden '11 have you strung up 
 by the thumbs if you damage the desk. He's some 
 in love with it. ' ' 
 
 The convict who had answered the secretary's 
 question smiled a little and his companion grinned 
 broadly at the implied savagery of the warden. 
 
 The secretary made no comment, but he was in- 
 wardly amused by the trusties' evident understand- 
 ing of the Major's humane peculiarities. 
 
 "Don't let any green moss grow between your 
 fingers, boys," said Duryea, as he departed. "The 
 warden won 't stand for any crossed wires in his of- 
 fice, and he'll not be gone very long. If any visitors 
 come in that don 't look phony, hunt me up. I '11 be at 
 the chief deputy's office. You can jolly the oreide
 
 A EEVELATION AND A CALLER 273 
 
 ones, anyway you like, so long as you are polite to 
 them and don't bother me." 
 
 The prisoners saluted and immediately set to work 
 at the desk. They had worked on in silence for some 
 moments, when the shorter of the two men suddenly 
 stopped rubbing. 
 
 "Say, Pal, how'd youse git de soft snap?" 
 
 "Soft snap? I don't quite understand, Stubby," 
 replied his co-worker. 
 
 Pete Johnson, alias "Stubby," officially labeled 
 611, waved his polishing cloth and said impatiently: 
 
 "Oh, hell! Cut out de guff! Youse knows what 
 I mean. Dis pull dis trusty business an' de rags? 
 D'ye git me?" 
 
 No. 515 evidently was puzzled. 
 
 "Pull? W why, I really don't know that I had 
 any pull. The chief deputy warden, Mr. McCabe, 
 told me I'd been made a trusty. That's all I know 
 about it." 
 
 ' * De hell ye say ! An ' youse didn 't have no pull ? ' ' 
 
 "Not that I'm aware of." 
 
 "Straight goods?" 
 
 "Straight as a plumb line, Stubby," laughed the 
 other. 
 
 Stubby glared at his companion in astonishment. 
 
 "Sufferm' Mike! Will ye listen to dat! Youse 
 must ha' made one hell of a hit wit de old man. 
 Guess he must ha' got onto yer eddication." The 
 convict grinned and threw out his chest. "Reckon 
 he likes ter have us eddicated guys 'round him." 
 
 No 515 smiled indulgently. 
 
 "Then we're pretty solid with the warden, eh, 
 Stubby?" 
 
 "Surest t'ing ye know," chuckled Stubby, sagely
 
 274 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 nodding his head. "But I'm t'inkin' dat de gang 
 down in little old Noo York had more to do wit my 
 gittin dis snap dan my eddication did." 
 
 "The gang!" exclaimed 515. 
 
 "Sure de gang. D' youse know how I happened 
 ter git collared! 'Twuzn't no damned bull did it, 
 youse can betcher life on that. There was one o' 
 dem what de papers calls carnivals o' crime' goin' 
 on;" he grinned reminiscently, "an' I was doin' me 
 share p' de stick-ups. Everybody was a howlin' at 
 de police, an' dey just had ter make good. Well, de 
 front office rounds up some o ' de big crooks an ' tells 
 'em dat de p'lice is- in Dutch wit de public, an' has 
 ter come to de front an' do it quick. See? De 
 crooks knows what dat means it means dat dey has 
 ter git somebody collared to save de faces o' de 
 boss bulls an ' de main squeeze at de City Hall. ' ' 
 
 Stubby's face reflected pride of accomplishment. 
 
 "I'd pulled off a big stick-up in Brooklyn a few 
 nights before," he continued, "an' de papers was a 
 raisin' merry hell an' no names mentioned but de 
 bulls'." 
 
 The convict's expression grew unpleasant to look 
 upon as he went on : 
 
 "Well, de gang plays dat it's up ter me dis time, 
 ter be de fall-guy. A pal o ' mine puts me wise, an ' 
 I lamms, but dey chases me clear ter Buffalo, catches 
 me in a dump up dere an' beats me up good an' 
 plenty gives me all dat's comin', from brass knucks 
 ter de boots. Den de gang raps me ter de bulls in 
 old Buff," he snarled savagely, "an' dey collars me 
 an' telegraphs ter de main front-office squeeze in 
 Noo York an' puts him next. The big squeeze down 
 dere sends a couple o' bulls from Central after me, 
 takes me back, chucks me inter de Tombs an' puts 
 me troo de mill. De beak was onto his job an' gives
 
 A EEVELATION AND A CALLER 275 
 
 it to me light. I only gits five years. After I gits 
 in stir, de gang an' de front office gits busy an' has 
 me put on as a trusty. See ! ' ' He laughed raucous- 
 ly. "'Trusty!' Dat's a joke, as dey'll find out, if 
 ever I gits half a chanst. ' ' 
 
 During Stubby's recital of his experiences, 515 
 gazed at him in open-mouthed astonishment. 
 
 " What !" he exclaimed, "Do you mean to say that 
 you were sacrificed by your pals to save the reputa- 
 tion of the police ? ' ' 
 
 "Sure, Mike! Dat's part o' de bizness. It's a 
 case o' youse tickle me an' I'll tickle youse." 
 
 "It was pretty rough on you, Stubby." 
 
 "Bah! Rough nuttin'; it's part o' de game, I tell 
 ye, ' ' Stubby snorted contemptuously. ' ' Youse don 't 
 s 'pose I 'm a goin ' ter stay in stir, do ye ? Not unless 
 de gang an' de p 'lice has lost dere pull wit Tammany. 
 I'll be on dis trusty job a tastin' de sweets o' honest 
 labor, as de Bible sharps sez, fer about six months 
 more an' den dem gates out yonder '11 open just like 
 dat door in de fairy book, an' don't youse fergit it. 
 An ' it won 't never be my turn to be de fall-guy agin 
 not no more. An' de gang better not make no mis- 
 takes in drawin' de numbers, neither. See?" His 
 eyes gleamed ominously and his jaw hardened. 
 
 "What a horrible system!" exclaimed 515. 
 
 "Is dat so? D 'youse t'ink dat de system 
 
 dat put youse here has got anyt'ing on it?" 
 
 No. 515 looked at his fellow prisoner in wide-eyed 
 bewilderment. 
 
 "System!" he exclaimed," system that put me 
 here!" He grasped Stubby by the arm. "What on 
 earth do you mean, Stubby?" 
 
 "See here, old pal, youse is in fer murder, ain't 
 ye?" 
 
 "Yes, for a murder I never committed."
 
 276 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Ah, chee ! Fergit it ! Don 't try to git by wid any 
 o ' dat bull-con ! Dat 's what dey all say all but de 
 crooks. De lily-white gents an* de bums is always 
 innercent. ' ' 
 
 "But it is the God's truth, Stubby, I am innoc- 
 ent!" insisted 515, earnestly. 
 
 Stubby shrugged his powerful shoulders. 
 
 "All right. Bo; s'pose we let it go at dat. But 
 youse is in stir all de same, ain 't ye ? " 
 
 "Obviously." 
 
 "It's a cinch, ain 'tit?" 
 
 "Admitted." 
 
 "An' d' youse know what put ye in stir?" 
 
 "Yes the evidence of an infernal fool of a union 
 labor agitator, who was so excited he couldn't tell 
 a hawk from a hand-saw, and a lot of crazy, drunken 
 Italians who would have testified against their own 
 mothers, if the suggestion had been made to them ! ' ' 
 
 No. 611 laughed derisively. 
 
 "Say, pal, but youse is an easy mark! De bum- 
 mest lawyer dat ever hangs out in a p'lice court, 
 could ha' got youse off, if dere hadn't been somethin' 
 behind dat case. ' ' 
 
 No. 515 crumpled his polishing cloth in both hands 
 and threw it violently to the floor. 
 
 * ' Something behind it ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, dat's what I said somethin' behind it." 
 
 "Come out in the open, Stubby!" commanded 515, 
 sternly, grasping him violently by the shoulder. 
 "Come, show your hand. What have you got up 
 your sleeve?" 
 
 Stubby winced, but ejaculated admiringly: 
 
 "Say, pal, I'd like ter have youse fer a pardner. 
 Dat grip o' yours is a bird! Did youse ever "
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLER 277 
 
 "Never mind that, now," interrupted 515, releas- 
 ing Stubby's shoulder. "Tell me what you're driv- 
 ing at, man. We haven't much time for riddles." 
 
 "All right it's a bet! Youse is wakin' up," ex- 
 claimed Stubby. "Yer monicker's Parkyn, ain't 
 it?" 
 
 No. 515 was so astonished that he actually jumped. 
 
 "Yes, but how did you!" 
 
 "Oh, I know dat, de same as I knows a hull lot 
 more about youse dat youse don 't know about yerself . 
 See, here, Bo, just ter show ye how much more a guy 
 like me knows dan youse eddicated stiffs, I'll tefil 
 ye what happened ter mamma's little darlin' boy. 
 Youse got inter a mixup wit some Guineas, didn't 
 ye? Reg'lar rough-house, wit rods a poppin' an' 
 chives a slashin' an' stabbin' ter beat hell. Am I 
 wise, hey?" 
 
 "Yes, I tried to stop them from fighting." 
 
 "An' got what was comin' to ye, just what any 
 guy always gits when he sticks his bill inter other 
 folks' bizness." 
 
 "We won't discuss, that point, Stubby." 
 
 "Better not, pal, I got youse there. Well, d 'youse 
 remember one o' de guys in dat racket wuz a Mick?" 
 
 "Yes, the fellow of whom I spoke, a new man 
 named O'Connor. He joined the gang just before 
 the strike, and made a business of stirring up trou- 
 ble among the men. That's why I suspected him of 
 being a union agitator." 
 
 "He butted in an' tried to help youse, didn't he?" 
 queried Stubby, with a knowing leer. 
 
 "Yes, but my opinion is that he went into the 
 fight on Donnybrook Fair principles, and was too 
 drunk to know much of what happened afterward."
 
 278 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Stubby's frame shook with merriment, and he 
 laughed so boisterously that 515 glanced in alarm at 
 the open door and windows left ajar by Duryea. 
 
 "S sh! Stubby! Don't forget the stoneyard!" 
 
 "Righto! IVe got ye," grinned 611, rubbing his 
 back in painful recollection. He mockingly con- 
 tinued in a lower tone : "0 'Connor drunk ! For de 
 love o ' Mike ! Wouldn 't dat cook y e f " 
 
 Stubby's face was purplish-red with suppressed 
 emotion. He almost exploded again, but recalling 
 his companion 's hint of the stone-yard, checked him- 
 self. 
 
 "Say, Pal, did youse ever hear o' Bull Hennessy?" 
 
 "Of course. He's one of the Tammany ward 
 bosses in lower New York. He contracts for nearly 
 all the labor on the New York Central. He supplied 
 the men for the job I was superintending when " 
 
 1 ' Sure, you 're wise, ' ' interrupted Stubby. ' ' Well, 
 Bull don't like you any too much not so well as his 
 frail does, eh?" 
 
 "His frail?" 
 
 "Sure," replied Stubby, impatiently," his skoit 
 his goil, Jack Halloran's daughter." 
 
 No. 515 gazed at him in amazement for a moment 
 and then blazed with indignation. 
 
 "His girl! Halloran's daughter? Not only is 
 Hennessy a confounded fool, but I was merely cour- 
 teous and friendly to Miss Halloran. She " 
 
 His innate chivalry came to the fore. A woman 's 
 heart must not be laid bare, least of all, to a convict 
 and by another convict. 
 
 "And so far as I know," he continued, "the young 
 woman was not especially interested in me. Hen- 
 nessy was jealous without reason even if he had 
 any claim on the girl, which I very much doubt. ' '
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLEE 279 
 
 "Gee! but youse has got bum lamps! We'll let 
 your side of it go at dat, but, all de same, you looked 
 like de goods to de goil, an' Bull gits onto it. He 
 ain't no bute himself, so he guesses de rest." 
 
 "Yes, but granting that all you say is true, what 
 has that to do with the case?" 
 
 ' ' Say, Cull, but youse is easy easy as stickin ' up 
 a lush! You sure ought ter see a ockerlist an' git 
 them lamps tinkered. Youse is blinked on both sides, 
 an' it's a shame to keep youse in de pit. I'll be 
 gittin' cold feet in a minute, an' throw up the job o' 
 rappin'. I ain't stuck on it nohow, an' dunno how 
 de hell I ever gits started wit it." 
 
 "Go on, Stubby, I'm listening." 
 
 ' * Yes, wit yer feet ! Yer listeners is like yer lamps, 
 dey needs a speshulist. I'll go on spielen' all right, 
 if youse '11 wake up, but it 's a pipe dat youse '11 need a 
 diagram. ' ' 
 
 "Go on, man, go on!" urged 515 eagerly, "I'll 
 stand for the diagram. ' ' 
 
 " Youse 'd git what's comin' te ye, if I'd leave ye 
 up in de air. Blokes like youse gives me a pain. 
 Ye reads so many books dat ye don 't know nuttin '. ' ' 
 By way of impressing this point, Stubby curiously 
 inspected his fellow trusty, as though he were a 
 menagerie exhibit. 
 
 "Well," he went on, condescendingly, "I don't 
 s'pose youse is ter blame fer not catchin' on quick; 
 it's de way youse is brung up, so I'll go on rappin'. 
 Ye got up against a frame-up, good an' plenty. 
 O'Connor's real monicker is Butch Harris, an' he's 
 as English as any crook what ever landed on Man- 
 hattan Island. He's a strong-arm guy, an' a peach 
 at de bizness. Bull Hennessy put him on dat con- 
 struction job ter cook youse. See? He was goin'
 
 280 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ter croak ye, some night, in de reg'lar way, an' trim 
 ye inter de wet, but dat strike comes on, an' he 
 frames up somethin' safer." 
 
 "Good God, Stubby, do you mean to tell me 
 that" 
 
 Stubby's sensibilities plainly were ruffled. 
 
 "Youse heard me whisperin', didn't ye? What 
 d'ye think I'm doin', stallin' ye!" 
 
 ' ' But, man ! how did you learn all this ! ' ' 
 
 "Dat's part o' me system, Cull. I gits dat dope 
 by de underground, just before I gits it in de neck 
 from de gang." 
 
 A glad light shone in 515 's eyes. He fervently 
 grasped both of Stubby's hands in his own. 
 
 ' ' Thank God ! I shall be free at last, Stubby ! I'll 
 be grateful to you as long as I live ! You 're a friend 
 in need the best friend I ever had ! ' ' 
 
 "S sh! Cheese it, ye bloody lobster! Not so 
 loud! Bemember dat stoneyard youse was spielin' 
 about! An' let go o' me mitts I might need dem 
 old lunch hooks ter reach f er hand-outs, some day. ' ' 
 
 No. 515 released Stubby's hands and went on in a 
 lower tone. "We'll lay the matter before the war- 
 den, and with the evidence you can assist me in get- 
 ting, I'll" 
 
 * ' Oh, will ye ? " Stubby broke in. ' ' I guess nit ! 
 An' say, Bo, cut out dat friendship bizness. Dere 
 ain't goin' ter be no evidence Savvy!" 
 
 This staggered No. 515. 
 
 W what !" he stammered, huskily, "Do you mean 
 that you will refuse to " 
 
 "Wakin' up, ain't ye, old pal?" interrupted Stub- 
 by, affecting admiration. "Gittin' wise ter little 
 Petey, eh, Cull ! You '11 be one o ' dem mind-readin ' 
 sharps yet, if ye don't watch out. I ain't givin'
 
 A EEVELATION AND A CALLEE 281 
 
 nuttin' away ter nobody. See? I've rapped ter 
 youse, an ' dat 's me limit. ' ' 
 
 No. 515 was fairly trembling with excitement. He 
 laid his hand on Stubby's shoulder and looked ap- 
 pealingly into his cunning eyes. 
 
 "And you'll allow me to remain in prison, when 
 a word from you would clear me? My God, man 
 are you not human ? ' ' 
 
 "Nah, I ain't human," growled Stubby, irritably, 
 throwing off the other's hand. "I'm a crook, dat's 
 all. D' youse git dat? What de bloody hell did 
 youse, or your kind, ever do fer me or my kind, hey? 
 We lives on youse guys an' youse does de best ye 
 can ter put us away! Who builds de jails an' de 
 scaffolds, an' hires lawyers, an' bulls, an' beaks ter 
 feed 'em an' keep 'em full? Youse an' your kind! 
 Help youse? Not on yer damned life !" 
 
 "Very well," said 515, indignantly, "I'll take the 
 matter up with the warden, and he will " 
 
 "Youse an' de warden '11 play hell! I don't 
 t'ink," interjected Stubby, with a sneer. "My 
 word's as good as yours, an' a damned sight better, 
 youse can gamble on dat. One jail bird's as good 
 as anudder only he ain't. A system's a system, 
 an' a pull's a pull, when we gits down ter cases. 
 Don't let dat git by youse me system an' me pull!" 
 
 "Would it mean nothing to you to help an inno- 
 cent man get his liberty," pleaded 515, earnestly. 
 1 ' Man ! Man ! Think what freedom would mean to 
 me!" 
 
 "Yes, I'm t'inkin' what it'd mean to youse, but 
 I'm t'inkin' a damned sight harder what yer free- 
 dom 'd mean ter me, Cull," Stubby went on, obsti- 
 nately. "D'ye know where I'd git off? Of course 
 ye don't, so I'll put youse wise. I wants ter do biz-
 
 282 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ness in de little ole town o' Noo York, an' if I raps 
 on Bull Hennessy I'm as good as croaked. D'ye 
 know what happens to a snitch! He lasts about as 
 long as a dish o' snow in de devil's kitchen! He's 
 cooked so damned quick dat it makes death by light- 
 nin' look like creepin' paralysis! Charity begins 
 ter home, old sox ! ' ' 
 
 The convict paused as if to let his speech sink in. 
 
 "An* dere's somethin' else dat I might as well 
 wise ye up ter. Butch Harris an' me is old pals, an' 
 I ain't goin' ter trow him down. See? Why, dat 
 guy gits hooked up wit me inside of a week after 
 he lands in Noo York, an' we fights fer de middle- 
 weight champeenship o' de Bowery." 
 
 The ex-pug grinned crookedly as he recalled the 
 strenuous beginning of his friendship with the 
 Strangler. 
 
 "Say, but dat was a peach of a go, an' don't youse 
 fergit it ! Sixteen rounds to a draw an' a split purse 
 an' I gits a split lip an' dis tin ear," and Stubby 
 laid his finger tenderly on his deformed auricle. 
 
 No. 515 began to comprehend the hopelessness of 
 the situation. He buried his face in his hands and 
 quivered with conflicting emotions. 
 
 "Say, Cull," said Stubby, reprovingly, with sud- 
 den inspiration, "what in hell are youse beefin' 
 about,, anyhow? A live bird in jail is wort' a 
 t'ousand o' dese society lobsters dead outside ! Youse 
 might ha' got dis," and he made a motion with his 
 hand as if to choke himself, "wit a perfectly nice, 
 good little knot under yer left ear! De stir sure 
 ain't no Fift' Av'noo hotel," he continued consoling- 
 ly, "but it beats a block o' ice, an' a nice, cold, white 
 slab in de morgue ter hell an' gone. Maybe youse '11 
 git a pull, yerself, someday. A pull's wort' some-
 
 A EEVELATION AND A CALLEE 283 
 
 thin' in de stir, but it ain't wort' two whoops in hell 
 in de bone-yard. Savvy ? ' ' 
 
 No. 515 dropped his hands from his face and made 
 a last desperate effort to move the inflexible Stubby, 
 pleading his cause with eloquence and emotion which 
 would have stirred the very soul of a less stolid lis- 
 tener. 
 
 * ' There 's a poor, widowed, broken-hearted old wo- 
 man in New York, Stubby, who is dying by inches, 
 of grief and lack of care, because her boy, her only 
 child, is locked up in Sing Sing for a crime of which 
 he is as innocent as a babe ! Won't you do your part 
 to save her? Won't you help to send her boy home 
 to her? Kemember, Stubby, I am all she has in the 
 world. She needs me great God in heaven, man! 
 how she needs me! Come, be human! You can 
 square yourself for everything you ever have done 
 that was evil, by just this one kind act." 
 
 While 515 was thus pleading, Stubby's eyes flashed 
 with admiration for the other's eloquence, but he 
 showed not the least sign of relenting; on the con- 
 trary, his jaw set more truculently than ever. 
 
 "Say ole pal, youse oughter be on de stage at 
 Wallacks! Booth an' McCullough, nor none o' dem 
 actor guys, ain 't got nuttin ' on youse. But, ' ' he con- 
 tinued, resentfully, "dat mellerdrammer stuff don't 
 fit youse nuttin' off 'n me. Guess yer poor old mud- 
 er is yer last card, what?" 
 
 "Poor old mudder, eh?" and he chuckled sardon- 
 ically. "Poor old mudder !" he mocked. De best 
 I ever gits out o' mine wuz a bat in de jaw ! Happy 
 days! Nit! Don't youse ever pull dat old mudder 
 gag on a Bowery boy not no more, 'cause it won't 
 make a hit wit him won't never git youse nuttin', 
 nohow. See ? ' '
 
 284 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Is there anything I can say; anything I can do!" 
 entreated 515. 
 
 "Nnttin, dpin', Cull; nuttin' doin>. S sh!" 
 
 A gruff voice was heard in the hall. 
 
 "Cheese it, Bo !" exclaimed Stubby, "Get a wiggle 
 on! Here comes McCabe!" 
 
 Both men grabbed their cloths and set to work 
 with a will, rubbing away at the desk as if their very 
 lives depended upon the rapidity with which they 
 accomplished their task. 
 
 McCabe appeared in the door and stood eyeing 
 them suspiciously for a moment. 
 
 "Here, you fellows!" he called to them sternly, 
 "how long does it take ye to polish a desk? What 
 the devil are you two dubs tryin' to do, take the 
 skin off 'nit!" 
 
 No. 515 came to attention. His companion straight- 
 ened up after a fashion, admiringly looked at his 
 work, with the air of a connoisseur, and awkwardly 
 saluted. 
 
 "It's all done, sir," he said. "Fine job, too!" 
 He turned to 515. "Ain't it. Pal!" 
 
 "Never mind expert opinions," said the chief 
 deputy, gruffly. "No. 611, ye 're wanted in the gar- 
 den. Get a move on ye, now ! ' ' McCabe eyed Stub- 
 by sharply as he slouched out of the office with the 
 characteristic hang-dog prison gait which always 
 is unconsciously exaggerated under official scrutiny. 
 
 The officer went to the desk and critically inspect- 
 ed it. 
 
 "That's a hell of a job!" he sneered, to 515. 
 There's been too much gab goin' on here an' too 
 little elbow grease. Get busy now, my man, an' fin- 
 ish that desk right. When you 're through report to 
 me." 
 
 McCabe then left the office.
 
 A EEVELATION AND A CALLER 285 
 
 A few minutes later No. 515 violently threw his 
 cloth down on the desk. 
 
 "My God!" he exclaimed, with all the bitterness 
 of just resentment and injured pride. "To think 
 that I have come to this. Imprisoned insulted 
 degraded ! and for a crime of which I am innocent ! 
 I'd rather die than longer submit to it! And that 
 probably is what it will mean if I make a break for 
 it. The best I am likely to get will be what that 
 ruffian, Gleason, gave that poor devil who tried it 
 the other day." 
 
 His eyes flashed defiantly, and deep lines of stern 
 and dogged determination appeared in his face. 
 
 "But even that," he said, between his set teeth, 
 "is better than this, and I'm going to chance it 
 and at the first opportunity. If I fail " His eyes 
 flashed savagely; "well, they'll never take me alive! 
 If I succeed God help you, Mr. Bull Hennessy ! ' ' 
 
 His eyes fell on the desk and he caught sight of 
 a heavy metal paper-weight. He picked it up, ex- 
 amined it critically, and thoughtfully weighed it in 
 his hand. 
 
 "When the time arrives," he muttered, "this may 
 come in handy. It's not much of a weapon, but it's 
 better than bare hands." 
 
 The prisoner was in the act of putting the crude 
 weapon into the pocket of his rough jacket, when a 
 heavy step was heard coming down the hall toward 
 the office. He hastily pocketed the weight, picked 
 up his cloth and set to work at the desk, polishing as 
 vigorously as though he were under an urgent time 
 contract which soon was to expire. The footsteps 
 came nearer and stopped at the office door. 
 
 "Is the warden about?" inquired a deep, throaty 
 voice. 
 
 No. 515 was startled almost out of his presence
 
 286 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 of mind. He would have known that pompous, over- 
 bearing voice among a thousand ! Its owner paused 
 long enough to light a cigar and noisily puff it into 
 action, then stepped into the room and towards the 
 desk. 
 
 Ignoring the visitor, the convict, with deliberately 
 exasperating inattention, went on with his polishing 
 as though oblivious to everything but the job in 
 hand. He paused at times to critically survey 
 the shining surface of the desk, but did not look up. 
 
 "Say, what the hell's the matter with you, any- 
 how? Are you deef?" The speaker plainly was 
 losing his patience. 
 
 The prisoner did not respond and the caller 
 stepped closer. 
 
 "See here, me good feller," he said, angrily, be- 
 tween violent puffs at his cigar, "if you're not 
 deef, you're " 
 
 "Mighty careful with whom I converse, eh, Mr. 
 Bull Hennessy?" satirically replied 515, straighten- 
 ing up, throwing the cloth to the floor and looking 
 the Boss squarely in the eye. 
 
 Hennessy fairly gasped at the man's impudence. 
 He menacingly clenched his fist, and leaning over 
 the desk, looked closely at the prisoner. 
 
 "Oh, ho, me laddie buck!" he exclaimed, with a 
 start of astonishment. "So, it's you, is it, -Mr. Bob 
 Parkyn? Why ain't you out in the yard maulin' 
 stone along with the rest o' the jail-birds?" he 
 glowered. "Who the hell took you off'n that nice 
 little job, anyhow?" 
 
 No. 515 coolly stepped around the desk and con- 
 fronted Hennessy. 
 
 "None of your business, Hennessy!" 
 
 "I'll make it my business, damned quick, when I
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLER 287 
 
 see the warden!" raged the Boss, starting for the 
 door. 
 
 The prisoner intercepted him, and Hennessy ap- 
 peared somewhat disturbed. 
 
 " What's your hurry, Bull? You're not quite so 
 bold when you're cornered, are you? You're a 
 game chicken outside, with your gang of thugs be- 
 hind you gamer still, when you have somebody to 
 do your fighting for you ! The yellow streak is on 
 top, just now, isn't it, you hound?" said the convict, 
 taking a step towards the Boss, who moved back a 
 pace. 
 
 Hennessy was purple with rage, but percepti- 
 bly alarmed. He was "dead up against it." Here 
 was a quality of courage new to him, and it was a 
 facer for the bully. He was used to men who weak- 
 ened and cringed before the wrath of the mighty 
 Boss men who bowed the knee to his every whim. 
 He knew how to handle such men. But here was a 
 man in prison, a jail-bird in his cage, who was not 
 afraid of him of him, the redoubtable Bull Hen- 
 nessy, with a famous record of glove fights, battles 
 with "bare knucks," rough-and-tumble scraps and 
 gun-plays galore ! 
 
 Yes, this was different, quite! Who ever heard 
 of a jail-bird with a moral kick in him? Yet 
 here was one who, though handicapped by every pos- 
 sible disadvantage, faced him with high and indom- 
 itable spirit and quailed not before his mighty 
 frown nor trembled at his throaty bluster! What 
 was more, and this really was incredible, this con- 
 vict actually threatened him ; threatened the unchal- 
 lenged king of the most desperate elements of the 
 underworld of the great metropolis; threatened the 
 great Boss Hennessy, who was feared, not only by
 
 288 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the social dregs of the underworld, but by the social 
 scum the aristocratic crooks and grafters of the 
 upperworld and by the "men higher up" in the 
 world of politics and municipal administration. 
 
 Bull Hennessy was "buffaloed for fair!" Deep 
 down in his coarse brutal heart, he had the tinge of 
 ochre common to most of his kind. He always had 
 been a living bluff he himself always knew it. 
 
 Nobody ever recognized the "yellow streak" in a 
 man quicker than did Hennessy himself. And this 
 man in the garb of infamy, immured within walls 
 from which, if he committed any overt act of vio- 
 lence against the Boss, he could not escape, had 
 called the bluff of a lifetime ! 
 
 Hennessy intuitively comprehended, also, that he 
 was faced, not only with a moral intrepidity which 
 to him was a novel and uncomfortable experience 
 in man-handling, but with a physical courage as well, 
 which, as his critical eye long ago had recognized, 
 was backed by the muscular ability and science es- 
 sential to making good. 
 
 When, in his frame-up with Butch Harris, at Black 
 Bill's, the Boss told that discreet worthy that Bob 
 Parkyn was a "pipe," he lied, and he lied deliberate- 
 ly. He was a wise and experienced judge of fight- 
 ing men and knew a tough job of man-handling 
 when he saw it. It looked as if somebody's chickens 
 had come home to roost, and Bull Hennessy was 
 experiencing another new and especially uncomfort- 
 able sensation ; he felt dreadfully alone in the war- 
 den 's big office with that jail-bird. 
 
 No. 515 took another menacing step toward his 
 enemy, who discreetly stepped back out of arm range. 
 
 There was a dangerous glint in the convict's eyes. 
 
 "Got away with your bluff for a long time, didn't
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLER 289 
 
 you, Hennessy ? Fine day for a call, eh ? " he sneered, 
 stepping still closer. 
 
 Bull turned his head and hunched up his shoulder, 
 as if to block a blow. 
 
 "This wouldn't be a good place ter take a punch 
 at me, me friend," he blustered. 
 
 No. 515 was now within easy hitting distance and 
 clenched his fist in a manner most disquieting to the 
 Boss. 
 
 "Wouldn't it!" he gibed. "Well, if my eyes are 
 right, I see a place that's a peach just southwest 
 of that contemptible mouth of yours, and it's so 
 tempting ! ' ' 
 
 He drew back his fist as if to let it fly at Hen- 
 nesy's face. The Boss side-stepped and made a mo- 
 tion toward his hip pocket, but checked it half way. 
 
 "Well," mocked the convict, dropping his hands 
 to his sides, "why don't you pull your gun? Make 
 a good bluff while you are about it. What's the 
 matter afraid you couldn't get away with it?" 
 
 Instantly comprehending that the prisoner did 
 not intend to hit him, the Boss regained his assur- 
 ance. 
 
 "Get away with it!" he said, impudently, "you 
 betcher life I could get away with it, dead easy ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, no you couldn't, Mr. Thomas-Boss-Bull-Hen- 
 nessy!" returned 515, contemptuously. "You 
 couldn't get away with it any more than I could get 
 away with it, if I gave you what's coming to you, 
 you white-livered cur! It would be easy enough to 
 kill in self-defense, a poor devil of a convict if 
 there were not several persons who know how I hap- 
 pen to be here. Wouldn't be safe to kill me, would 
 it? You're an infernal rascal, and a low-down yel- 
 low dog, Hennessy, but you're not quite a fool."
 
 290 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "What in hell are you drivin' at?" queried the 
 Boss, visibly agitated and actually shriveling under 
 the convict's scathing denunciation. 
 
 No. 515 replied with great deliberation, enunci- 
 ating every word with a distinctness that grated 
 painfully upon Mr. Hennessy's now acutely sensi- 
 tive ear. 
 
 "Just this, Bull Hennessy. I'm an innocent man, 
 and you know it. You jobbed me, you infernal 
 scoundrel ! Butch Harris could tell something migh- 
 ty interesting. And there are others who could tell. 
 Perhaps they never will tell, but that won 't save you, 
 Hennessy," and the convict gave his enemy a savage 
 look that bored clear through to the back of his thick 
 head and for a moment actually jarred him out of 
 the running. 
 
 He quickly came back, however, and asked, defi- 
 antly, albeit with some trepidation: 
 
 "Well, what th' hell are you goin' to do about it, 
 Mr. Jail-bird?" 
 
 The prisoner shook his fist threateningly under the 
 Boss 's red nose and said, with deliberate emphasis : 
 
 "I'm going to get my freedom, Bull Hen- 
 nesy! I don't know how, nor when, but I'll get it. 
 Then I 'm going to find you, my friend, and give you 
 a chance to call me a jail-bird again just once 
 and that's the only chance you'll ever get, Mr. 
 Thomas-Boss-Bull-Crook-Hennessy ! You can guess 
 the rest." 
 
 Hennessy pulled himself together, threw his stub 
 out of the window, laughed derisively and lighted 
 a fresh cigar. 
 
 "But ye 're not out yet, me brave buster, an' I'll 
 take damned good care that ye don't git out! An' 
 I'm goin' to take better care o' yer health, too. It's
 
 A REVELATION AND A CALLER 291 
 
 a shame fer ye t' be cooped up like you are. Ye 
 need more exercise, an' I'll see that ye git it. It's 
 wrong for an athlete like you t' git out o' trainin' 
 an' let his muscle go all t' the bad. I'll speak ter 
 the main screw about it. ' ' He paused as if reflecting, 
 and then went on, "Now the stone-yard would " 
 
 " Blaze away, you dirty thug!" No. 515 broke in, 
 contemptuously. "If I'm sent back to the stone- 
 yard, my conscience won't hurt me so much if I 
 ever make my get-away and pay my debts." He 
 again shook his fist in the Boss's face. "And you're 
 right about the muscles I'll need them some day, 
 to show my appreciation to my benefactor, one Bull 
 Hennessy. ' ' 
 
 With a final look of hatred and contempt, No. 515 
 gathered up his polishing rags from the desk and 
 left the room. As he made his exit, he fired one 
 parting shot. 
 
 "Do your worst, you contemptible hound! I'll 
 owe you just that much more on settlement day. 
 And by the way, Hennessy," he sneered, "try and 
 show some manners when the warden comes in. 
 He's a gentleman, and such cattle as you should an- 
 noy him as little as possible." 
 
 As the convict vanished, Hennessy heaved a most 
 prodigious sigh of relief, relighted his cigar, which 
 he had allowed to die out, and cheekily sat down at 
 the desk, in the warden's chair.
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 ME. HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 
 
 When Major Donaldson returned to his office and 
 found Boss Hennessy comfortably lolling back in 
 the warden's official chair, his silk hat tipped back 
 on his head, and smoking like Vesuvius in semi-erup- 
 tion, the old soldier was dumbfounded. For an in- 
 stant he was so badly feazed that he could not quite 
 get his bearings. 
 
 Not so the occupant of the chair. His monu- 
 mental nerve never for a second forsook him. He 
 peered through the dense clouds of strong tobacco 
 smoke with which he had enveloped himself, and 
 observing the Major, patronizingly remarked, with- 
 out rising : 
 
 1 ' Good mornin ', I s 'pose you 're the warden. ' ' 
 
 The Major had to reach pretty deep down to catch 
 his breath. 
 
 "I yes, I I am the warden," he finally man- 
 aged to gasp. 
 
 " Thought so," commented Hennessy. "You sure 
 look it." 
 
 ' ' Thanks, awfully, ' ' said the Ma j or. ' ' Would you 
 er, mind taking this chair?" He pointed to a 
 large easy chair to the right of his desk. "You'll 
 find it much more comfortable. The one you are 
 occupying is er, rather stiff and formal quite of- 
 ficial in fact, and more suited to one of my er, mod- 
 est tastes."
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 293 
 
 ' ' Oh, just so, p 'raps it is. Don 't do f er the warden 
 t' have things too soft, does it?" 
 
 Hennessy laughed at his own witless remark, but 
 the Major's gentle irony went clear over his head. 
 He dropped into the proffered easy chair, and took 
 several vigorous puffs at his cigar. 
 
 "And won't you give me your hat, sir?" said the 
 Major, regaining his self-possession and politely 
 concealing, as best he could, his aversion to the in- 
 truder. 
 
 "Oh, no, that's all right. I'm not sweatin' any. 
 What's the use o' botherin'?" and the Boss waved 
 his hand magnanimously at the warden. 
 
 "But I insist," said the Major, with forced cordi- 
 ality. "It's not often that so fine a hat decorates 
 our rack," and with a fine show of bonhomie, he re- 
 moved his visitor's head-gear. 
 
 "It's a Jettson, isn't it?" He glanced at the 
 stamp on the band. "Late style and quite expenr 
 sive, I should judge," pursued the warden. 
 
 "Eight ye are," puffed Hennessy, proudly. "Very 
 latest, too. That feller, Jettson, rolled me fer eight 
 bucks fer that lid. What d'ye know about that?" 
 
 Hennessy removed the cigar from his coarse lips 
 and held it ostentatiously between the fingers of one 
 hand, while with the index finger of the other he pro- 
 ceeded noisily to explore his capacious mouth, evi- 
 dently attempting to dislodge certain particles of 
 food which had been lingering since breakfast, ap- 
 parently in the near vicinity of his wisdom teeth. 
 The warden could not help making a mental estimate 
 of the length of Hennessy 's huge, hairy finger, rela- 
 tive to the dimensions of his enormous mouth. 
 
 "Shall I get you a glass of water?" asked the
 
 294 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Major, politely, endeavoring with indifferent suc- 
 cess to conceal Ms disgust. 
 
 ' ' Oh, no, thanks, not a- tall not a-tall ! ' ' The Boss 
 put up his hand as if to defend himself from a threat- 
 ened assault. "But if ye have any o' the real stuff, 
 why" 
 
 "Ah, I see," said the Major, with a twinkle in his 
 eye which suggested that he was beginning to be 
 amusingly entertained. "You really would honor 
 me by taking a wee drop. ' ' 
 
 "Make it a reg'lar sized ball, Warden," grinned 
 Hennessy, thirstily. 
 
 The Major went to a near-by cabinet and returned 
 with a bottle, glasses and a siphon of seltzer, setting 
 them on the end of the desk convenient to his guest 's 
 hand. 
 
 "Help yourself, sir," said the Major, hospitably. 
 
 And the Boss did "help" himself, covering the 
 glass with his hand to conceal the fact that it was full 
 to the brim. He managed to toss it off without 
 spilling it, a feat at which the Major secretly wond- 
 ered, even if it did not inspire him with admiration. 
 
 "Seltzer?" inquired the warden. 
 
 Hennessy again waved a defensive and depreca- 
 tory hand. 
 
 ' * No, thanks. Not a-tall not a-tall. Doc. Loomis 
 says that fizz water's bad fer me kidneys. They gits 
 on the bum once in a while, an ' I have ter take good 
 care of 'em. Carbolic er, I mean carbonic acid's 
 bad medicine." 
 
 The Boss suddenly bethought himself of the us- 
 ual bibulous amenities between gentlemen. 
 
 "Ain't you goin' ter have a drink, Warden? It's 
 a wise Doc. that don't take his own medicine, but 
 that's damn good stuff, b'lieve me!" and he looked
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 295 
 
 avidly at the bottle. ' * Old Dormitory, I '11 bet, ' ' and 
 he turned the bottle around so that he might inspect 
 the label. * ' Sure, I thought so, ' ' and he grinned com- 
 placently at the thought that he had made good as a 
 connoisseur. 
 
 "Since you endorse my whiskey, I will take a lit- 
 tle," said the warden. 
 
 "Sure, let her go! An' I'll join ye," enthused 
 Hennessy, warmly. 
 
 The Major poured put a small libation, and his 
 guest made haste to "join" him with another spir- 
 ituous bath. 
 
 "Here's how, Warden." 
 
 "Drink hearty, sir." 
 
 Having emptied the glass, Hennessy sank back 
 comfortably in his chair and puffed away like mad 
 at his cigar, enwreathing himself in huge clouds of 
 smoke, which being wafted in the Major's direction 
 by the breeze from the open windows, pretty nearly 
 gave that dignified person an asthmatic attack. 
 
 "Got a cold, hain't ye?" asked Hennessy, solicit- 
 ously. * * Ever try Dr. Pull 's Pulmonic Elixir I It 's 
 sure great ! Knock a cold out in the first round. ' ' 
 
 The Major confessed the cold, as the least em- 
 barrassing explanation of his symptoms, but strenu- 
 ously denied ever having enjoyed the advantage of 
 Dr. Pull's wonderful compound. 
 
 He finally ceased his coughing and wheezing and 
 succeeded in drawing a comfortable breath. 
 
 "Pardon me, sir," he remarked, politely; "you 
 have a slight advantage over me. Our introduction 
 was hardly mutual, Mr. " 
 
 "Sure, I forgot. Me name's Hennessy Thomas 
 Hennessy, of New York, ' ' replied the Boss, impres- 
 sively.
 
 296 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The great man expanded his huge chest, took a 
 vigorous puff at his fat black cigar and confidently 
 awaited the profound and sensational effect which 
 his name usually produced. 
 
 The Major obdurately refused to be impressed. 
 
 "Ah, indeed? I'm glad to meet you, Mr. ah, 
 Shaughnessy. ' ' 
 
 Here was another new and disturbing experience 
 for Hennessy. His face exhibited not only astonish- 
 ment, but annoyance. 
 
 "Hennessy," he reiterated, "Thomas Hennessy." 
 
 "From New York, I believe you said," remarked 
 the Major, blandly. 
 
 The Boss was distinctly piqued. 
 
 "Yes, from New York. Here's me card." 
 
 The warden took the card and cursorily glanced 
 at it, then looked blankly at the Boss. 
 
 "Oh, yes, I've heard of you, Mr. " He again 
 
 referred to the bit of pasteboard. "Mr. ah, 'Hen- 
 nessy Thomas Hennessy.' What can I do for 
 you?" 
 
 The Boss now was thoroughly disconcerted. His 
 assurance temporarily was shed like a cast-off gar- 
 ment. 
 
 "Why er, ye see," he ventured, haltingly, 
 "there's a couple o' friends o' mine here in the pen 
 an' " He puffed frantically at his cigar. 
 
 "Employes?" asked the warden, laconically. 
 
 "Why, no, they're " Hennessy hesitated. He 
 
 instinctively felt that he was "in bad," and getting 
 in deeper every minute. 
 
 "Prisoners!" suggested the Major, suavely. 
 
 "Y yes. Well, ye see, Warden," floundered the 
 Boss, "they're not exactly friends o' mine, but "
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 297 
 
 "I understand," interrupted the Major. " Friends 
 of the party, eh ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes, that's it. Have a cigar, Warden?" 
 
 Hennessy took a handful of cigars from his pocket 
 and leaning toward the warden offered them to him 
 for a selection. 
 
 "Thanks, no. Not during business hours." 
 
 Hennessy dove down into another pocket and ex- 
 tracted a box of cigarettes. 
 
 "Coffin nail, eh?" 
 
 The Major's face plainly showed that cigarettes 
 were not one of his weaknesses. 
 
 "I never smoke cigarettes, thank you." 
 
 "Me, too, Pete!" exclaimed Hennessy, violently 
 puffing at his weed. "I only carry 'em for these 
 guys who can't stand real tobacco," he continued, 
 confidently. "Better put a couple o' these smokes 
 in yer pocket, they're the real things, Warden, take 
 it from me straight havanas three fer a half, 
 same as I'm smokin'." 
 
 "I shall have to to decline, thank you," labored 
 the Major, beginning to wheeze again. 
 
 Hennessy, to use an expression of his own, was 
 not "landing the jolly," He replaced the cigars and 
 cigarettes in his pocket with an air of depression 
 and discouragement. 
 
 "Haven't come after any of my boarders, I hope, 
 Mr. Shaugh er, I mean, Hennessy?" the warden 
 inquired, ironically. 
 
 The Boss braced up a little and after several ex- 
 plosive, and to the Major, suffocating puffs, regained 
 a little of his customary pomposity. 
 
 "Not a-tall not a- tall. Ye see, Warden, the fel- 
 lers I spoke of, is pretty good hustlers, an' the boys 
 want ter well, you know how it is. We've kind o'
 
 298 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 got ter take care of 'em. They ain't very rugged, 
 an* we'd like to have ye give 'em jobs that's you 
 know. ' ' 
 
 "Suited to their strength, eh?" said the Major, 
 with blunt sarcasm. "Easy places for men with 
 
 strong pulls. What are their names, Mr. " He 
 
 again looked at the visitor's card "Mr. Hennes- 
 sy?" 
 
 The Major's sarcasm was completely lost on the 
 Boss, who was fast regaining his self-assurance. 
 
 "Henry Haggerty and James Kennedy." 
 
 The Major wrote the names on a memorandum pad 
 and turned to Duryea, who, just a moment before, 
 had quietly entered the office and returned to his 
 desk, unobserved by his employer, who had been so 
 absorbed in his conversation with Boss Hennessy, 
 that he had not even noticed his secretary's ab- 
 sence. 
 
 "Mr. Duryea, kindly look up the records of Henry 
 Haggerty and James Kennedy." 
 
 Duryea, with a bustling show of industry, prompt- 
 ly produced the records. 
 
 "Shall I read them, sir?" 
 
 "If you please, Mr. Duryea." 
 
 " 'No. 710. Henry Haggerty, alias "Buck" Hag- 
 gerty, alias "Big-mouthed Harry," alias "Hank 
 Higgins," New York City. Committed March 1, 
 1876. Ten years for criminal assault.' 
 
 " 'No. 727. James Kennedy, alias "Dublin Jim," 
 alias "Bad Jimmy," New York City. Committed 
 June 1, 1875. Twenty years for manslaughter. ' ' ' 
 
 ' * What are they working at ? " 
 
 "Haggerty is in the chair shop, and Kennedy is 
 making brooms, sir. ' ' 
 
 "Thank you, Mr. Duryea."
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 299 
 
 The warden turned to the Boss. 
 
 "Your proteges do seem a little delicate, Mr. Hen- 
 nessy," he said, sarcastically. "I suppose we really 
 shall have to do something for them." 
 
 The Major took out his watch and looked at the 
 time, wondering if Hennessy would take so delicate 
 a hint. He was gratified to see him rise from his 
 chair, apparently preparatory to leaving. 
 
 "Then you'll take care o' them fellers, will ye, 
 Warden?" 
 
 "In the name of humanity and politics yes. Is 
 there anything else that I can do for you and the 
 boys!" 
 
 Hennessy failed to note the cutting sarcasm of the 
 warden Is reply. 
 
 "Yes," he said, pompously, "there is one more 
 little matter. I noticed a feller, a trusty, workin' 
 round here in the office when I came in, that hadn't 
 oughter have so much liberty. He's No. 515." 
 
 "Indeed! and why shouldn't he have so much 
 liberty, pray?" asked the Major, the light of battle 
 beginning to gleam in his dark eyes. 
 
 "Oh, he's a bad egg!" snapped Hennessy, "an* 
 likely t' raise hell, most any old time. Better put 
 him inter the stone-yard. A little exercise '11 do him 
 a lot o' good. See?" 
 
 "So, he's a bad egg, eh? As bad as Buck Hag- 
 gerty and Bad Jimmy, think?" 
 
 This was a facer for Hennessy. He was so non- 
 plussed that he did not see the storm that was com- 
 ing. The Major put in another satirical thrust. 
 
 "Are you not afraid that the stone-yard may be 
 a little too strenuous for the man, Mr. Hennessy? 
 It's quite a bit more so than the chair factory or 
 the broom shop."
 
 300 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "W why "stammered the Boss, "I well, 
 
 don't you see, it's like this, I " 
 
 "Yes, I see!" said the Major, slowly, as he rose to 
 his full height, fairly towering above Hennessy big 
 as that worthy was. The old soldier evidently was 
 trying hard to control his temper and keep his dig- 
 nity off the rocks, but he was on the verge of a 
 mighty explosion. 
 
 "See here, Hennessy you're going just a little 
 too far ! You New York rough-necks and politicians 
 can run this institution most of the time, in spite 
 of everything and everybody," here the veteran's 
 brakes slipped and things got going wild "but, by 
 the Great Eternal, sir!" he roared, "I'm going to 
 run it part of the time ! I made that man .a trusty 
 on my own judgment and a trusty he '11 remain, so 
 long as I see fit ! Understand ? ' ' 
 
 Now Hennessy could not quite comprehend the 
 Major's satirical thrusts and jabs, nor could he have 
 "come back" if he had. He was as slow of wit as 
 he was thick of neck and dense of skull. In his own 
 circle he could exchange repartee with the best of 
 them repartee that was largely billingsgate and 
 profanity, with a dash of obscenity thrown in by 
 way of relish but the subtle passes of the Major's 
 satire and irony were too much for him. Here, how- 
 ever, he was in his element. The warden had lost 
 his temper, and this gave his visitor an opening. 
 The Boss had enjoyed vast experience in dealing 
 with men who had said things in anger, and always 
 had been able to hold his own. And so, he recovered 
 all his self-confidence and with it his unparalleled, 
 brazen impudence. 
 
 "Oh, ho! me buckaroo; you're goin' ter run this 
 dump ter suit yerself, are ye?" he sneered.
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 301 
 
 "You heard what I said, sir!" stormed the Major. 
 
 "Is that so?" sneered Hennessy, exasperating- 
 ly. "Well, let me put a bug in yer ear and wise ye 
 up, Mr. Warden. If ye get too gay with me I'll 
 show ye that we can run this hotel all o' the time 
 an' don't ye forget it!" 
 
 "You will, eh? Well, until I turn it over to you 
 contemptible New York politicians and crooks, I'll 
 run it my way!" The Major actually was livid 
 with rage. "Leave my office, sir!" he stormed. 
 
 "An' s'pose I don't pull me freight, me gay ga- 
 zabo, what then ? ' ' sneered the Boss. 
 
 "I'll have you thrown out of the office and kicked 
 out of the prison and I '11 have it done by that trusty 
 whom you tried to knock!" roared the Major. 
 
 The warden was in deadly earnest the Boss could 
 see that. He had met such persons before and knew 
 the symptoms. He also knew that the warden of a 
 prison, like the captain of a ship, was not safe to 
 trifle with. The Major's authority was supreme, 
 and while Hennessy might get his job later, this 
 was one of the occasions on which an ounce of dis- 
 cretion was worth a ton of "pull" past, present 
 or future. To show fight would be plain suicide, if 
 the warden was disposed to have it so. There was 
 nothing for Hennessy to do but to "pull his freight." 
 
 "All right, Bo," he barked, viciously. "I'll beat 
 it, but I'll fix you for this, damn ye, an' don't ye 
 f ergit it ! " He turned at the door and yelled back : 
 "You'll hear from me good and plenty when I get 
 back ter New York or my name ain 't Thomas Hen- 
 nessy ! ' ' 
 
 The Major had regained his sangfroid. 
 
 "Thanks," he replied, urbanely, "write real soon,
 
 302 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Mr. Shaughnessy er, I mean, Hennessy and don't 
 forget to remember me to the boys ! ' ' 
 
 The Boss looked brass knucks, rods and black- 
 jacks at the warden for a second and then made his 
 exit, relieving his perturbed spirit by violently slam- 
 ming the door behind him. 
 
 Duryea had been listening with the most intense 
 interest to the altercation between his chief and 
 Bull Hennessy. As soon as their conversation 
 reached the violent stage he quietly went to his own 
 desk, opened a drawer and left it open. The loyal 
 soul shone through his eyes as he stood there, pale, 
 tense, eager, keenly watching the two angry men 
 like a cat at a mousehole. He kept his right hand 
 conveniently near the open drawer, until Hennessy 
 had slammed the door behind his departing wrath. 
 The tension over, Duryea heaved a sigh of relief and 
 with his handkerchief mopped his brow, on which 
 huge globules of perspiration were shining. He 
 then closed the drawer and locked it. 
 
 In that drawer, peacefully reposing among the 
 odds and ends of stationery and a lot of photographs 
 of his best girls not all of them "best," perhaps, 
 but most of them wa& a huge Colt, of most satisfy- 
 ing exterior and grimly efficient caliber ominously 
 suggestive of a compromise between a gas main and 
 a railroad tunnel. 
 
 When, some months before, on his uncle's ranch 
 in Arizona, one of Duryea 's big-hatted friends pre- 
 sented him with that gun, the cowboy remarked : 
 
 "That ole gun is shore reliable, son. It ain't no 
 dude's pop-gun. It'll bore a hole through a feller 
 what a cat can jump through an' never wet a whis- 
 ker ! ' ' And the weapon certainly looked the part.
 
 HENNESSY GETS ANOTHER JOLT 303 
 
 "Anything more, sir?" asked the secretary, quiet- 
 ly. 
 
 "That is all, for the present, thank you, Howard," 
 and the Major, his dignity quite restored, waved his 
 hand in token of dismissal. 
 
 The secretary arranged his papers, closed his 
 desk, and with an affectionate parting glance at his 
 chief, left the room. 
 
 "Well," he chuckled to himself as he left the build- 
 ing and entered the jail-yard, "here's where little 
 Bright Eyes gets some more rest without stealing 
 it. ' ' His eye roving down the dreary, stone-flagged 
 enclosure, caught sight of McCabe. 
 
 "Hello!" he exclaimed, "there goes old Crusty! 
 Hanged if I don't go after him and see if I can't 
 corner him for another gab-f est about the warden. I 
 like to hear the old bear growl."
 
 CHAPTER XIX 
 
 MOEE STAB VISITORS 
 
 Major Donaldson sat for some time at his desk, 
 quietly reflecting on his experience with Hennessy. 
 He knew that the Boss had almost unlimited polit- 
 ical power ; he also knew that the fellow was vindic- 
 tive and revengeful. The obvious inference was not 
 pleasant for the Major to contemplate. Boss Hen- 
 nessy would try to get his job, and as there was no 
 immediate election in prospect, Tammany would lay 
 a mine under the warden's chair and explode it at 
 any time that seemed expedient to the political un- 
 derground, gum-shoe-workers, before the old soldier 
 element in politics woke up. He, himself, might even 
 be compelled to light the fuse and explode the mine 
 under his own official seat. 
 
 A revolt or a strike among the prisoners, a mur- 
 der, a wholesale "delivery," or the escape of a single 
 prisoner, could be made the excuse for attacking 
 the warden and, if none of these accidents occurred 
 in the due course of prison events, it was easy enough 
 for interested persons, the "Knights of the Double 
 Cross," to make them happen. The politicians con- 
 trolled the guards, and had many henchmen among 
 the prisoners. 
 
 It also was a very easy thing to "doctor" the 
 prison supply accounts. Those who furnished the 
 supplies would be glad to lend a hand. In the few
 
 MORE STAR VISITORS 305 
 
 months that he had been in office, the old-soldier 
 warden had given much disquiet to the minds, and 
 badly demoralized the profits of these grafters. They 
 would be eager to counter on him, especially if they 
 could land a blow on his pride center by tarnishing 
 his reputation for honesty. This would please the 
 contractors and the men higher up the corrupt 
 political bosses who absorbed the big graft. 
 
 Politics is composed of about five per cent patriot- 
 ism, five per cent statesmanship, ten per cent ''hot 
 air," sixty per cent graft, and twenty per cent mud. 
 The "mud" would be present in larger proportions, 
 were it not that twenty per cent, judiciously thrown, 
 is sufficient to conceal the graft and blacken the other 
 fellow's reputation. 
 
 The prospective loss of his position did not bother 
 the Major, from a material standpoint. To him, sal- 
 ary never had been an object. He had taken the 
 wardenship of Sing Sing just as a devout missionary 
 might have penetrated the Congo, or the heart of 
 China. His point of view differed from the mission- 
 ary's, it is true, but his devotion to humanity was 
 not less sincere and there are those who believe 
 that aims and methods such as his are more prac- 
 tical, more logical and more productive in results 
 for humanity's weal than anything that ever under- 
 lay the zeal of the missionary. But, of course, all 
 philanthropic roads "lead to Rome," even though 
 more things of value travel by some roads than by 
 others. 
 
 It seemed hard to Major Donaldson that his work 
 should be interfered with before it had fairly begun. 
 He had hoped to continue it for a while, although he 
 was well aware that, sooner or later, he would have 
 to buck against the system and knew what was likely
 
 306 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 to happen. When systems are not stronger than 
 men stronger even than the men who build them 
 they are no longer worthy of being called " sys- 
 tems." This is what makes all systems dangerous 
 and most of them corrupt. Even the good one of 
 today, may be the evil one of tomorrow. The men 
 who dominate systems change from day to day, and 
 sooner or later cupidity and greed for power or 
 place come to the fore. 
 
 The Major wished that he might be the entering 
 wedge of a new movement for the prevention of 
 crime and reclamation of criminals. He never had 
 expected to live to see much accomplished, but mere- 
 ly hoped to aid in the pioneer work. He knew that 
 society was not built in a day, and that our penal 
 system was the product of centuries upon centuries 
 of purblind cruelty, ignorance, mismanagement and 
 economic waste. And now well, the old soldier 
 felt that he had dreamed his dream almost to the 
 end, and was about to be awakened by being thrown 
 into the cold, dirty stream of political machination 
 that has drowned so many official opportunities. 
 
 The noon whistles of the prison shops blew shrilly, 
 the factories of the adjacent town joining the stridu- 
 lent chorus. The booming and hammering and me- 
 tallic clanking of implements and the hum and rattle 
 of machinery abruptly ceased. The Major started 
 with surprise and looked at his watch. 
 
 " Twelve o'clock!" he exclaimed. "Well, who'd 
 have thought it? Where's the morning gone, I 
 wonder?" He smiled reminiscently. "Some of it, 
 I suspect, went with Boss Hennessy and my job." 
 
 "Heigho!" he sighed, "Houses of cards and cas- 
 tles in Spain! I'm up against a glass wall. I can
 
 MOEE STAE VISITOES 307 
 
 see some things on the other side that to me look big 
 and grand. But the wall is too high and too smooth 
 to climb ; it is too thick and too hard to drill through, 
 and a thousand times longer than the great Chinese 
 Wall. My life will not last long enough to enable 
 me to walk around it and gather some of the things 
 on the other side. 
 
 "Bah!" he ejaculated, pessimistically, "I'd bet- 
 ter get some leather goggles, climb into the orthodox 
 social band-wagon and stay there until I grow 
 wings that will take me over that wall." He lit a 
 cigar, went to the window and looked down into the 
 jail-yard. 
 
 "Wonder if Hennessy would feel insulted if he 
 saw me smoking during business hours. ' ' 
 
 He laughed heartily, as he recalled the Boss's 
 1 ' real havanas, three for a half. ' ' 
 
 "Well, there haven't been many star visitors thus 
 far today, but what was lacking in numbers was 
 compensated for in features of interest and amuse- 
 ment not to say excitement. That brute, Hennessy, 
 is about the most typic specimen of his class I ever 
 saw. 
 
 "I'd like to know what is back of his hatred of 
 that poor devil, Parkyn," he mused. "The Boss has 
 it in for that fellow, all right. I 'm going to find out 
 at the first opportunity why he is so anxious to 
 persecute him. That convict looks to me like a man 
 who will tell the truth. Murderers usually do 
 about everything, at least, but their own crimes." 
 The Major smiled whimsically. "They're the true 
 aristocrats of the world of crime." 
 
 A trusty appeared in the jail-yard and went to- 
 ward the official headquarters. 
 
 "Hello ! There he is now. By Jove ! He's a high
 
 308 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 stepper when he thinks nobody's looking appears 
 like a gentleman, too. I '11 not forget to look into his 
 case. From Bull Hennessy's actions, I suspect there 
 may be some interesting developments." 
 
 The trusty suddenly halted, and turning, entered 
 the executive building. 
 
 At the moment when the Major first caught sight 
 of No. 515 passing the office window, the trusty was 
 on his way to the dining-room, where the prisoners 
 shortly would be herded for their mid-day meal. 
 As he passed the main outer building of the prison, 
 he was accosted from a window by one of the trusties 
 who acted as ushers and escorts for those favored 
 visitors who had friends among the officials, or 
 special permits to make the tour of the prison. 
 
 The fellow was hungry, and anxious to get to his 
 dinner. Recognizing No. 515 as one of the warden's 
 messengers, the usher was constrained to forego the 
 chance of a tip and turn over to him a likely-looking 
 possibility of "graft." Needless to say, he did this 
 merely because, in the affections of a hungry man, 
 a prospective graft could not successfully compete 
 with the smell of " chuck." The chuck was a sure 
 thing, not a prospect, and when was even prison 
 chuck in the dish, with the dish on the table, to be 
 hazarded for two-bits or so in the bush, that might 
 or might not materialize ? Let somebody else waste 
 perfectly good time showing people around during 
 the dinner hour especially when, if the "rubber- 
 necks turned up any cush," the guide would have to 
 divide with the thrifty convict usher who had put 
 him "next." It was "heads I win, tails you lose," 
 with the hungry one for he didn 't have to divide the 
 chuck with anybody.
 
 MORE STAR VISITORS 309 
 
 "Somebody t' see the warden, Bo," called the 
 usher, "friends o' his'n, I reckon. Come an' git 'em 
 an' lead 'em to it." 
 
 No. 515 entered the building and ascending a 
 short flight of stairs entered the central reception 
 hall, where he was met by his fellow trusty. 
 
 "Say, Bo, dis plant looks good to me," said the 
 convict. "Gee! If dey ain't de swell guys! Pipe 
 de kyards wit de Fift' Av'noo monickers, will ye?" 
 
 He handed 515 a couple of genteel visiting cards. 
 
 "An' say, Cull," he continued, warmly, "youse 
 oughter see de frail she's a lu-lu, all right, all right 
 believe me! When youse lamps her you'll fall fer 
 dat skoit sure. Dey is in de waitin' room. I wouldn't 
 give youse a look in, only Doc. says I 've got ter have 
 me eats reg'lar." 
 
 No. 515 glanced at the cards and started down the 
 steps. The other followed him to the top of the 
 steps and said cunningly, in a stage whisper: 
 
 "If dey comes across wit de cush, we splits de 
 purse, fifty fer de house an' fifty fer youse. I'm de 
 house. See?" 
 
 "All right," rejoined 515, disgustedly, "I'll split 
 it with you if," he added, significantly, "they 'come 
 across.' " 
 
 He went his way, cards in hand, and hastened to- 
 wards the warden's office. 
 
 The warden still was standing by the window when 
 No. 515 appeared at the door. The prisoner was 
 about to knock, but noting that the Major saw him, 
 raised his hand in salute instead. 
 
 "Come in, my man," the Major invited, with an 
 answering salute.
 
 310 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The trusty approached the warden and proffered 
 the cards. 
 
 "A lady and a gentleman to see you, sir." 
 
 "Ah, indeed!" returned the Major, listlessly, con- 
 cealing a yawn as he did all things that were un- 
 dignified. 
 
 "Cards, eh?" he said, adding caustically to him- 
 self, "Not any of Bull Hennessy 's select circle, that's 
 a dead moral certainty. ' ' 
 
 Although this was not meant for the prisoner's 
 ear, he caught the allusion to Hennessy. His jaw 
 set viciously and there was an ominous glint of fire 
 in his eyes that might have excited the warden's 
 curiosity, had he not been languidly interested in 
 the visiting cards. 
 
 The Major perfunctorily took the bits of paste- 
 board and glanced at them. 
 
 "Mr. Elisha Weatherson! Miss Weatherson!" 
 he exclaimed, joyously. "Well, of all the unexpected 
 people! Escort them here, at once." 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The trusty saluted and departed on his mission, 
 and the warden turned back to the window and re- 
 sumed his smoking. 
 
 "Well," he mused, "who ever expected 'Lishe 
 Weatherson to visit me here. He's been stuck so 
 tightly in that little old store in Ithaca for the last 
 thirty years, that I didn 't think dynamite could move 
 him." He reverted to the cards in his hand. "His 
 daughter is with him, too! Wonder what she is 
 like I haven't seen her since she went away to 
 boarding-school, just after her mother died." 
 
 His glance followed the trusty as he crossed the 
 yard and entered the building that constituted the 
 gateway to the prison.
 
 MORE STAB VISITORS 311 
 
 "If that man ever gets the right kind of jar to his 
 pride," the Major gravely soliloquized, "he'll go 
 through that stone wall, if he can't make it any other 
 way and I fancy it would be rather hazardous to 
 get in his road." 
 
 No. 515 went into the visitor's reception hall and 
 had no difficulty in locating the warden's friends. 
 The two were standing by the open window, com- 
 menting on the smoothly-cut lawn and the luxuriant 
 shrubbery and beds of flowers growing in front of 
 the building, which were just beginning to bud under 
 the gentle touch of spring. 
 
 The trusty patiently waited. 
 
 "Aren't they beautiful, papa?" she was saying. 
 ' ' How thoughtful the management is to put a bit of 
 freshness and color into the lives of the poor unfor- 
 tunates who are confined here. It must have a good 
 influence upon them. ' ' 
 
 Mr. Weatherson was a matter-of-fact old fellow, 
 and had about as much sentiment in his soul as has a 
 wooden Indian, but his sense of humor was not sim- 
 ilarly dwarfed. His eyes twinkled with merriment 
 and he with difficulty repressed a hearty laugh at 
 his daughter's ignorance of prisons. 
 
 "Well, little girl, I guess it was about time you 
 took in a prison. You may need it in your business, 
 when you write that book you are planning. ' ' 
 
 The young woman looked at her father with an 
 expression of interrogation and mild astonishment. 
 
 "I surely shall, papa. That's what I came for. 
 But I don't quite understand you." 
 
 "Why, don't you see, daughter dear, this is the 
 front yard of the place. The back yard, like every 
 other, looks different. These flowers and shrubs 
 and green grass were put here for the double pur-
 
 312 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 pose of making the warden's family when he has 
 one feel at home, and giving to the visitors the 
 same impression they gave you just now. You see, 
 that bit of landscape gardening catches philanthrop- 
 ic visitors coming and going. They see a beautiful 
 garden when they enter the prison and again when 
 they leave. It gives a nice touch to their impres- 
 sions and a pleasant tone to the stories they tell. 
 It helps a lot, too, I suppose, with the folks who have 
 friends here." 
 
 1 'But don't the convicts ever get a chance to 
 see them? Are they never allowed to " 
 
 Mr. Weatherson suddenly noticed the trusty stand- 
 ing near. 
 
 "Sh h!" he cautioned. 
 
 "Pardon me, sir," said 515, courteously. "This 
 is Mr. Weatherson, is it not?" 
 
 Mr. Weatherson looked his astonishment and the 
 young woman turned squarely around and gazed at 
 the man. The hall-mark of culture displayed by a 
 convict was decidedly unexpected and came with a 
 slight shock to the visitors. 
 
 "Yes, that is my name." 
 
 "The warden requested me to show you to his 
 quarters, sir. Will you kindly follow me?" 
 
 The convict barely glanced at Miss Weatherson, 
 and studiously avoided meeting her eye. He still 
 could face men even respectable ones from the 
 outer world, but a gentlewoman! He had felt the 
 awful humiliation and disgrace of his incarceration, 
 but never so keenly as now on meeting a refined 
 member of the gentler sex his mother's sex for 
 which he always had entertained a sentiment and 
 respect that verged on the chivalric. 
 
 With half-averted face the convict showed the
 
 MORE STAB VISITORS 313 
 
 visitors into the reception hall and down the stairs 
 into the jail-yard. As they reached the bottom stair, 
 Miss Weatherson's foot caught in the hem of her 
 skirt; she stumbled and would have fallen, had not 
 the guide caught her. 
 
 11 Thank you, sir," she said gratefully. "I was 
 dreadfully awkward. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, no, Miss," he began, "an accident of that 
 kind might happen to anyone who " 
 
 Taken off his guard, his eyes met her's. Surprised 
 into almost complete loss of self-control, he suddenly 
 stopped and leaned for a moment against the frame 
 of the outer door. The Weathersons preceded him 
 into the yard. The young woman turned back 
 with the intention of asking him a question. Noting 
 this, by a powerful effort of will, he succeeded in re- 
 covering his self-possession and followed the visit- 
 ors. His limbs still were barely under control, for 
 he staggered a little. 
 
 "That way, sir," he indicated, his voice trembling 
 with emotion. 
 
 The young woman looked at the trusty, at first 
 curiously, and then with some concern. Turning to 
 her father, she whispered : 
 
 "The poor fellow is ill." 
 
 The convict surmised that she had remarked upon 
 his actions. He pulled himself together and affect- 
 ed a calmness which the expression of his white, 
 haggard face emphatically denied. 
 
 Mr. Weatherson had heard of the "prison pallor," 
 and shook his head in contradiction, as he sagely 
 whispered : 
 
 "They all look like that." 
 
 It was not surprising that No. 515 should have 
 been taken off his feet. Beside the photograph of
 
 314 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 his mother, in the inner breast pocket of the garb 
 of infamy that he wore, reposed a fragment of a leaf 
 of an old magazine containing a picture of a beauti- 
 ful young woman the picture of Miss Weatherson ! 
 
 Good God!" he murmured to himself, "And to 
 think that I should meet her here ! Thank heaven ! 
 She never knew me and never will, unless I am a 
 fool!" 
 
 He bit his lip, lacerating it; clenched his hands 
 until his fingers ached and his nails painfully creased 
 his palms; then shook his head resolutely as if to 
 clear it of the vapors that were oppressing him, and 
 with averted face resolutely strode on beside the 
 warden's friends, answering as best he could their 
 interested questions asked mainly by the young 
 woman. 
 
 But 515 answered laconically almost to the point 
 of brusqueness. He could not trust his voice. 
 
 Miss Weatherson again surreptitiously glanced 
 at him, with an expression of lively curiosity tinged 
 with commiseration. One might have fancied that 
 she understood the situation, although she did not, 
 in the least. There simply had arisen in her breast 
 a little of the divine feminine instinct that impels 
 every normal, decent woman to "mother" every bit 
 of masculinity in the world that appeals to her as 
 in the least worthy or needing her pity. And how 
 often her judgment errs as to who is worthy ! Alas ! 
 how often, too, the maternal impulse that primal 
 instinct which cries out in the wilderness of life for 
 the father of the child that Nature promised her 
 when she herself was born leads her feet into dan- 
 gerous and forbidden paths ! 
 
 The maternal desire, striving for expression in 
 the gloom of the unattainable, has inspired the hu-
 
 MORE STAE VISITORS 315 
 
 man dove to mate with the human hawk, the human 
 barnyard fowl with the human eagle, the pure with 
 the impure, the female " intellectual" with the clown, 
 and the high with the low; it has made milady run 
 away with the chauffeur and the cook with milord ! 
 It was exemplified in Beauty and the Beast, and im- 
 mortalized by Shakespeare in " Richard the Third' 7 
 and "Midsummer Night's Dream." A fair maid 
 fell for the songs and rhodomontade of Cyrano and 
 discounted his awful nose. The society belle turns 
 her back on Apollo and runs away with a hunchback, 
 or a man with a wooden leg. As for the cripple, or 
 the acknowledged brute with a million! Cupid 
 wastes no time helping him; he can take care of 
 himself. 
 
 Especially has the maternal instinct been respon- 
 sible for the orchids and roses, sweet billets doux 
 and heart-cry poetry sent by languishing ladies to 
 caged criminals. It stands, in brief, for the feminine 
 half of that simple yet most complex problem which 
 puzzles Society's muddled head over its "yellow" 
 morning paper and coffee; in the verbiage of the 
 hoi polloi and the press "affinity." 
 
 As to the masculine half of the affinity business, 
 the less said the better. It is mighty accommodating, 
 and spares no pains to join both its nobler and its 
 baser impulses in aiding the softer sex in its efforts 
 to see that the world "goes on just the same." 
 
 When woman learns to classify her emotions and 
 ceases to permit the animal maternal yearning to 
 masquerade as pity, sympathy, "spiritual" love 
 and platonic friendship that rotten bridge for the 
 feet of fools ! she will become so discriminating and 
 fastidious that some of the sterner and more selfish 
 sex will live and die mateless.
 
 316 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 But lovely woman is neither ultra-fastidious nor 
 intelligently discriminating. She thinks she is and 
 of course will resent this perhaps she one day may 
 be, if we give her a fair chance to grow, but, all the 
 same, she is not yet so. This, perhaps, is just as 
 well, for if the call of the dream-child ever is too 
 critically analyzed and controlled, there likely will 
 be no flesh and blood children. 
 
 Meanwhile let this blase old world laugh and gibe 
 at the ill-balanced feminine creatures from the better 
 walks of life, who make horrible mesalliances, or give 
 maudlin pity and ill-advised attention to criminals, 
 but if the instinct and emotions which lie behind 
 their foolishness should pass away forever well, 
 this worn old world of ours indeed would soon be 
 only a desolate mud-ball. 
 
 To the initiated, the bouquet of roses sent by a 
 refined woman to a murderer is not quite so incom- 
 prehensible as it seems no more so than the affec- 
 tion lavished by a childless woman upon her dog. 
 And the poor souls are of the same kidney. There 
 is more of pathos than of bathos in the lives of 
 both. 
 
 And the rosy pink god, Puck-like, sits on the four- 
 barred fence of ethics, morality, law and religion, 
 with which that apotheosis of stupidity, Society, has 
 surrounded itself, and laughs at the imbecility of 
 man. 
 
 So shadowy was the touch of the world-old in- 
 stinct on the heart and brain of Josephine Weather- 
 son, that, at the first suggestion of such a thing, she 
 would have shrunk away in horror from the poor 
 devil of a convict as from a virulent and foul con- 
 tagion, and yet, the curtain already was beginning
 
 MOKE STAR VISITORS 317 
 
 to rise on an old, old, serio-comedy old, yet ever 
 new! 
 
 In the prompter's box sat Dan Cupid, impatiently 
 waiting for the players to begin. Dan was decidedly 
 weary of it all, and thinking, " What's the use?" 
 But he was grinning from one pink ear to the other, 
 and anon cunningly laughing to himself. 
 
 Cupid caught a glimpse of the devil in the wings, 
 anxiously waiting to see if he might bore into the 
 cast. 
 
 4 'Nothing doing, 'Phisto!" cried Dan. "It's on 
 the square and besides," he chuckled, cynically, 
 "this is a jail. Come around later." 
 
 Major Donaldson saw his friends and their convict 
 guide enter the prison yard and come toward his 
 quarters. He tossed his cigar into a convenient re- 
 ceptacle and hurried to the door to meet them. No. 
 515 ushered the visitors into the office, standing 
 respectfully aside to let them pass, and then disap- 
 peared, to enter the dining hall a moment later. 
 
 "Well! Well! My dear Weatherson, where on 
 earth did you come from, you old fossil?" cried the 
 Major, heartily, grasping both of his friend's hands 
 in his own and shaking them so vigorously that he 
 winced. 
 
 ' ' Ouch ! You old ruffian ! Straight from Albany. 
 Went up to visit my sister last week. We thought 
 we 'd drop in on you and give you a surprise. ' ' 
 
 "You surely succeeded," said the Major, with an- 
 other vigorous shake of Mr. Weatherson 's hands, 
 which gradually were growing purple. 
 
 "All right, then, Mr. Bear, just let go my hands, 
 will you, and I'll introduce the lady."
 
 318 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Quite unnecessary," exclaimed the Major, turn- 
 ing to the young woman. 
 
 "Our little Joe! A grown-up lady, too, and," he 
 gallantly added, "a most beautiful and charming one. 
 My, but you have ." 
 
 "Well ?" interrogated Miss Weatherson, archly. 
 
 "Eh? What'/ he stared at her bewilderedly. 
 
 "Aren't you going to kiss me?" she pouted. 
 
 "Am I f " cried the Major, gleefully. ' ' Just watch 
 me ! ' ' and he gave her a hearty smack. 
 
 1 ' Still my little Joe, eh ? " he laughed. "Why, my 
 dear, you have grown so big and so grand, that I 
 was " 
 
 "Afraid, eh!" she gibed, merrily. "And you've 
 marched right up to the cannon's mouth, too." 
 
 "Which isn't half so dangerous as marching up 
 to yours, you bewitching little heart-breaker!" 
 roared the delighted Major. 
 
 "Martyr!" she retorted. 
 
 "No, my dear; not a martyr, but a discreet old 
 gentleman, who has arrived at the age when he can 
 see danger to young men, to which he himself is 
 immune. ' ' 
 
 "Age or experience, Major?" she smilingly 
 flashed. 
 
 "Both, my dear," he sighed. "Both." 
 
 "But, come," he said, "sit down and be like home 
 folks. Tell me all about yourselves. How did you 
 leave the folks in Ithaca? And, say, 'Lisha, what's 
 going on up at Albany ? Joe, my dear, you must tell 
 me how you carried on at the capital. I suppose 
 you have a belt full of scalps, eh ? " 
 
 "Now, my dear Major!" protested Mr. Weather- 
 son. " Those things will keep. We are not going to
 
 MORE STAB VISITORS 319 
 
 sit down, even for a moment. We 're up for the day, 
 with your permission, and there '11 be time enough to 
 visit after your official labors are over. Meanwhile, 
 we'll look about the prison a little. Josephine is 
 going to combine business with pleasure, you know. ' ' 
 
 1 'Business?" queried the warden, turning to the 
 young woman, wonderingly. "When did our little 
 Joe launch into the business world and what have 
 we to offer you in the way of business? Looking 
 for the position of matron, my dear?" 
 
 "Well, Major," she asked, mischievously "don't 
 you think I could fill it acceptably ? ' ' 
 
 "Perhaps," he responded, cautiously, "but," and 
 he laughed vociferously, "I don't think you could fill 
 it as completely as it already is filled, my dear." 
 
 "I see," she pouted. "You are like papa. He 
 doesn't think a woman has any head at all." 
 
 The Major laughed, as he recalled his collision 
 with Mrs. Morgan that morning. 
 
 Miss Weatherson began to grow indignant. 
 
 "Pardon me, my dear," the warden explained, "I 
 was not thinking of your intellect, which is obvious, 
 but of the present incumbent's tonnage," and he re- 
 lated the comical adventure of the morning, much to 
 the edification of his friends, and especially of Jose- 
 phine, whose good nature immediately was restored. 
 
 "But as to the business in which Josephine is in- 
 terested, Major," said the father. "She is doing 
 some special up-lif t stunts for a high-brow magazine, 
 and is on the track of some er, dope. She thinks 
 that Sing Sing is a storehouse of literary treasures 
 for her fell purposes." 
 
 "And so it is so it is," agreed the Major. 
 "There's muck enough here for a dozen rakers. Is 
 that what you are up to, my dear muck-raking?"
 
 320 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Yes, and if you're not nice to me, I'll show you 
 up, Mr. Warden," she retorted with a laugh. 
 
 "Ah, I see. If I don't behave, I'll be just so much 
 muck for your rake. In lifting society up, you will 
 rake the poor old Major down." 
 
 He held his hands above his head as if she had 
 cried, * ' Stand and deliver ! ' ' and exclaimed in mock 
 terror : 
 
 "Don't shoot I'll surrender!" 
 
 "And now that you are my prisoner," she said, 
 archly, "may I look around your old man-cage!" 
 
 ' ' Certainly, my dear, and as you are out for novel 
 experiences, I '11 give you one. I '11 have a convict 
 a trusty show you around for a while. I'll take 
 charge of you myself this afternoon. Don't make 
 notes 'till then, for if I'm going to be muck-raked 
 by you, my lovely little blue- stocking, I prefer to 
 gather the dope myself. Nothing like being on the 
 safe side, eh, 'Lishe?" He winked good-naturedly 
 at Mr. Weatherson. 
 
 "Will you really have a prisoner show me around 
 and are you in earnest about this afternoon f" 
 The young woman's eyes fairly danced with ex- 
 citement. 
 
 "Of course, my dear." 
 
 "You sweet old thing, you! I've a notion to kiss 
 you again for that!" She took a step toward the 
 warden. 
 
 He raised his hand in protest and smilingly said, 
 with mock gravity : 
 
 "Now, see here, young woman, I have a lot of 
 work to do, but if you jolly me any more I'll cut 
 that convict out of the program and attend to your 
 entire entertainment myself." ' 
 
 "Oh, horrors!" she cried, in pretended alarm,
 
 MORE STAR VISITORS 321 
 
 "what an awful threat! Please don't, Major, dear, 
 I '11 be good!" 
 
 The Major raised a warning finger. 
 
 "You'd better be good, you saucy little minx! 
 Remember, I'm boss of this * man-cage,' as you call 
 it, and on a pinch and without a pinch I could 
 put you in a dark cell on bread and water." He 
 struck the call-bell on his desk. 
 
 "And please, Major, dear," she chaffed, "couldn't 
 I have just one little piece of pie?" 
 
 "I should say not. I couldn't resist the tempta- 
 tion to Paris green that pie, Miss Muck-raker!" 
 
 He again rang the bell, a little impatiently. In 
 answer to his second summons, Stubby shambled 
 in, slouched into attention, and the Major proceeded 
 to go through the usual routine of military salu- 
 tation. 
 
 Now, Stubby was not a graceful figure at best. 
 He never had been able to put up much of a mili- 
 tary front, and the Major had almost given him up 
 for a bad job. As he stood there furtively looking 
 about, twisting his hideous cap in his hands and en- 
 deavoring to conform to the warden's ideas of mili- 
 tary form, he suggested an organ-grinder's monkey 
 that suddenly had assumed gigantic proportions. 
 
 Miss Weatherson grasped the situation at a glance. 
 The contrast between the Major and the gorilla- 
 like Stubby in their endeavors to conform to the 
 most punctilious military etiquette, was almost too 
 much for her self-control. She with difficulty re- 
 frained from laughing aloud. 
 
 The Major had not intended assigning to any par- 
 ticular trusty the duty of showing nis friends about 
 the prison, but when he saw Stubby going through 
 his display of anthropoidal awkwardness in the one
 
 322 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 thing of all others in which the old warrior took es- 
 pecial pride, he was taken decidedly aback. With- 
 out appearing to interest himself in the impression 
 Stubby was making upon his friends, the warden 
 noted that Miss Weatherson was being highly en- 
 tertained. At this he was flustered almost to the 
 point of losing his poise. 
 
 It was obvious that Stubby was a misfit in the 
 plan of entertainment. Plainly No. 611 would not 
 do at all. The Major concealed his confusion by 
 putting on an extra-heavy mantle of dignity. 
 
 "My man," he said, "send 515 to this office at 
 once. 
 
 Here Stubby completely forgot his lines. 
 
 "Surest t'ing ye know," he mumbled. 
 
 The convict then repeated his simian-like inter- 
 pretation of military etiquette, and the Major, willy 
 nilly, was compelled to answer the grotesque salu- 
 tation which performance very nearly wrecked his 
 dignity beyond repair. 
 
 Miss Weatherson again succeeded in controlling 
 her risibilities, but her face displayed a congestive 
 color which suggested that she was in imminent 
 danger of injuring her health by suppressing her 
 emotions. 
 
 Stubby had a dim consciousness that he did not 
 fit nicely into the general scheme of things that 
 morning, and the young woman's presence did not 
 greatly reassure him. He noticed what trouble she 
 was having in preserving her gravity, and while he 
 intuitively knew that the warden was as important 
 a factor in the little burlesque as was he himself, 
 he had an almost irresistible impulse to take to 
 his legs and run away from the embarrassing sit- 
 uation. On leaving the room, therefore, he very
 
 MORE STAR VISITORS 323 
 
 nearly sprinted, his monkey-like appearance being 
 exaggerated by his extraordinary gait a prepos- 
 terous combination of stumble, shuffle and, slide, 
 that would have made his fortune on the stage. 
 
 When the convict reached the door, he stumbled 
 and almost fell. As he went down the hall he sprint- 
 ed in dead earnest Stubby unmistakably was in 
 a great hurry. 
 
 No. 515 promptly appeared and there was another 
 exchange of military formalities. Miss Weatherson 
 suddenly became interested in the view from the 
 front windows and putting her handkerchief to her 
 face, experienced a fit of coughing which, had Bull 
 Hennessy witnessed it, undoubtedly would have in- 
 terested that gentleman in his capacity of advance 
 agent for Dr. Pull's Pulmonic Elixir. 
 
 The Major wrote a line upon a card and handed 
 it to the prisoner. 
 
 "Show this lady and gentleman over the prison. 
 The card will pass you everywhere," he said to his 
 friends, adding significantly, and looking the pris- 
 oner through and through "everywhere inside the 
 gates. And now, Miss Weatherson, attention!" 
 
 The young woman struck a martial attitude, 
 clicked her heels, came to attention and gave a very 
 good imitation of a military salute. 
 
 "Captain Joe," continued the Major, responding 
 with affected gravity to her salute, "you will report 
 at my mess tent for dinner promptly at two o'clock. 
 Bring your patient and long suffering orderly, Pri- 
 vate Elisha Weatherson, with you. If you are wil- 
 ling to waive distinctions of rank, I have no objec- 
 tions to his dining with us." 
 
 "Your orders shall be obeyed, sir," and the young 
 woman again saluted.
 
 324 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Humph!" grunted her father; "I'm glad there's 
 somebody who can make her mind." She smiled 
 affectionately at him and gently pinched his cheek. 
 
 "How did you ever manage to break away from 
 business, 'Lishe?" asked the Major, as the party 
 moved toward the door. 
 
 Mr. Weatherson laughed, and flirted his finger 
 in his daughter's direction. 
 
 "I didn't break away. She made me retire." 
 
 "Ah, I see. Joe, eh?" said the Major, amusedly. 
 "There's something to be said in favor of petticoat 
 government, after all." 
 
 The trusty politely stood aside to let the Weather- 
 sons pass, but did not squarely face them. The young 
 woman, however, had recognized him when he first 
 entered the office and, for some reason, which she 
 herself hardly could have defined, she was glad that 
 he again was to act as their escort. 
 
 The Weathersons passed out of the door, followed 
 by their convict guide. Major Donaldson went to 
 the window and stood gazing into the jail-yard, 
 waiting for his friends to appear. As they emerged 
 from the building he called to Miss Weatherson : 
 
 "Remember, Captain two o'clock, sharp." 
 
 The young woman halted and saluted, then threw 
 him a kiss. 
 
 "On the military dot, sir," she replied. 
 
 The Major bit off the end of a cigar, lit a match 
 and stood abstractedly gazing after the party until 
 the flame scorched his fingers. He dropped the blaz- 
 ing wood, swore under his breath, and relieved his 
 feelings by throwing the cigar out of the window. 
 This was distinctly contrary to the police regulations 
 of the prison which showed that the warden was in 
 "a state of mind."
 
 MOEE STAK VISITORS 325 
 
 There was a shade of sadness on the warden's 
 countenance as he repaired to his desk and seated 
 himself in the chair of state. He rested his face on 
 his hands and mused aloud: 
 
 " What's the use of anything? When youth is 
 gone, all is gone. Fool that I was, to let mine drift 
 into the ocean of years without realizing its worth ! 
 And now 
 
 ' ' ' Oh, give me, Lord, one hour of youth again ! 
 For in that time I was sincere and bold, 
 And uncontaminate, and enraptured with 
 The Universe. I did not know the pangs 
 Of the proud mind, nor the sweet miseries 
 Of love ; and never yet had gathered 
 After those fires, so sweet in burning, bitter 
 Handfuls of ashes ' " 
 
 The Major seemed older than he was on entering 
 the office that morning. There were lines in his 
 face that were not there before. 
 
 " I almost hope that Bull Hennessy makes good 
 and gets my job," he sighed, as he picked up his 
 pen and arranged his documents ready for work.
 
 CHAPTER XX 
 
 THE AWAKENING 
 
 If the warden had desired deliberately to torture 
 No. 515 he could not have selected a surer or more 
 effective method than ordering him to escort the 
 "Weathersons on their tour of observation of the 
 prison. 
 
 No system of torture ever devised equals the 
 mental anguish suffered under certain conditions 
 by persons of refined and sensitive nervous organi- 
 zation. Robert Parkyn, No. 515, indubitably was an 
 individual of this kind. He had keenly suffered 
 under the humiliation and disgrace of his trial and 
 commitment for murder*. His distress had been 
 made especially poignant by the agony of his mother 
 agony that only loyal and loving mothers ever 
 feel and which, since the world began, no man ever 
 was affectionate, great, or useful enough to justify 
 with, perhaps, the single exception of Him who 
 played the leading role in that awful tragedy enacted 
 in the long ago on Calvary. 
 
 After the prison doors had closed upon him, and 
 he had begun serving his unjust sentence, Parkyn 
 found that there were still new and to him hitherto 
 undiscovered regions in the Valley of Sorrows. 
 
 Anticipation of joy has a livelier zest for the men- 
 tal palate than does its realization. We borrow pleas- 
 urable thrills in advance, and find our supply deplet-
 
 THE AWAKENING 327 
 
 ed when it should be most abundant. The evergreen 
 hills of happiness are seen through the mystic haze 
 that distance gives to the pictures which imagination 
 paints on the horizon of hope. Not so with our 
 prospective griefs, and pains, and sorrows. Antic- 
 ipation never takes the edge off these; it merely 
 makes them keener when they arrive. 
 
 No imagination is so vivid that it can in prospec- 
 tive do full justice to the agony experienced from 
 the loss of liberty by one to whom life in the free 
 outer world means something. 
 
 To the professional criminal, whose sensibilities 
 often are of a low order from birth and still further 
 blunted by the vicissitudes of his environment, neith- 
 er the dread nor the realization of incarceration in 
 a penal institution is as keen as some people suppose. 
 To him, detection and imprisonment are only mal- 
 adventures inseparable from his business merely 
 part of the day's work. He knows that he must of 
 necessity lead an in-and-out-of -prison life. The rel- 
 ative proportions of "in" and "out" depend upon 
 his cleverness, plus the influence of politics and of 
 luck that good fairy who is quite as potent in the 
 affairs of evil men as she is in those of the just, 
 good and upright. 
 
 The confirmed criminal has more lusts than loves, 
 and no home ties, for life in and out of jail is not 
 conducive to domesticity of tastes, habits, or even 
 opportunities. Wives and children may be merely 
 bait for traps set to catch the human foxes, rats, 
 wolves and tigers of the underworld, so the "wise 
 guy" of gang-land will have none of them. Your 
 wise crook is even careful not to get too deeply into 
 the bird-lime of love, in that pseudo-domestic life
 
 328 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 where reigns the "moll." As a certain "gent" ex- 
 pressed it in the argot of gang-land: 
 
 "If de crooks wuzn't turned up by de frails, an' 
 nobody never snitched, dere'd be nuttin' to it just 
 nuttin' to it. De fly-cops 'd lose dere reputashuns, 
 an' be put ter drivin' teams an' ice wagons, an' 
 half o' dem harness bulls 'd have ter sweep crossins', 
 while de udder half o' dem big stiffs wuz guardin' 
 'em." 
 
 So, even a steady moll really is a luxury that 
 spells danger for the criminal, although it must 
 be acknowledged that he is more secure when the 
 "frail" really is of the underworld and to the man- 
 ner born. The female professional thief or prosti- 
 tute is a safer consort for the male crook than is the 
 woman who is either innocent or merely an onlooker 
 in the world of crime. 
 
 The professional criminal has no pride except 
 a purely professional one to wound by sending him 
 to prison. The upper-world on which the under- 
 world preys can think no less of a thief because of 
 the advertisement he receives in the yellow press. 
 War ever prevails between the two social strata and 
 no quarter is asked by either. The opinions of one 
 another entertained by the denizens of gang-land and 
 those of upper Fifth Avenue are mutually uncom- 
 plimentary and disrespectful, and any blow which 
 the one may deal the other does not change the opin- 
 ion one whit, for better or worse. 
 
 Supposing the crook is sent to prison has he 
 cause for shame in what is merely a business re- 
 verse? Even if he did have cause, would he have 
 the capacity of appreciation of his humiliation? 
 And so for your true criminal the "stir" has its 
 inconveniences, but no disgrace. He may meet in
 
 THE AWAKENING 329 
 
 prison brutality, cruel and unusual punishment, in- 
 justice and all that but when he gets out of stir 
 he can look his own world straight in the eye. He 
 knows that he will be welcomed back to the under- 
 world as a hapless soldier of fortune a hero, never- 
 theless, who temporarily has been "down on his 
 luck." He sometimes fears the gang will give him 
 "de merry ha! ha!" for getting "collared," but this 
 is the worst, and will be forgotten in the lustre of a 
 new and more gloriously ending job. 
 
 Should the professional criminal commit murder, 
 whether he expiates the crime or not, then indeed, 
 is he crowned with the laurel and the bays of gang- 
 land! The more notches he has on the butt of his 
 "gatt," the greater his prestige and the more efful- 
 gently brilliant the halo of glory with which the gang 
 invests his heroic head ! 
 
 When Eobert Parkyn entered Sing Sing, he was 
 suffering the tortures of a mental hell, but compared 
 with what was to come this was pure joy. If the 
 
 Erison degradation and misery, and the arduous 
 ibor of the stone-yard had not dulled his sensibili- 
 ties, bringing in their train a certain degree of apa- 
 thy and a fatalistic acceptation of the inevitable, he 
 must have gone mad as had many before him. 
 When he became a trusty he began to shake off his 
 indifference and to hope vaguely, it is true, but 
 nevertheless to hope. 
 
 The revelation that Stubby had made to him, fol- 
 lowed, as it was, by meeting Miss Weatherson and 
 recognizing in her the original of the picture which, 
 with the idealistic impressionism of youth, he had so 
 long worn close to his heart, not only brought him 
 back to his own manly self, but transformed him
 
 330 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 into a new and more dynamic being, one in whose 
 heart and brain seethed hot desire for liberty and, 
 naturally enough, for revenge the most consuming 
 of all passions. And now came this pseudo-compan- 
 ionship with the girl of his dreams! 
 
 As No. 515 was escorting the Major's guests to 
 the various places of interest about the prison, he 
 was compelled, despite himself, to converse with 
 them. Both father and daughter instinctively re- 
 alized that their guide was not of the class that con- 
 stituted the majority of the prison population, and 
 were careful to avoid comment and questions that 
 possibly might wound his sensibilities or lead him 
 to suspect that they entertained any curiosity re- 
 garding his own history. The daughter, in particu- 
 lar, was not only extremely punctilious in avoiding 
 all reference or inquiry regarding his personal af- 
 fairs, but was as affable as she was considerate. 
 She plainly showed, moreover, that she found their 
 courteous and intelligent escort more than ordinar- 
 ily interesting. That he was refined, well-bred and 
 an educated man was self-evident. 
 
 The young woman's delicate avoidance of topics 
 which might distress, or at least embarrass, her 
 convict guide, was the more commendable because 
 of the fact that she was making considerable sacri- 
 fice in so doing, for she had the curiosity common 
 to her sex, and plainly also, was becoming interested 
 in him. 
 
 "Poor fellow!" she thought, "For a man of his 
 intelligence and refinement to be shut up in this 
 frightful prison, away from the world in which he 
 probably had an important part to play, is an awful 
 tragedy. ' ' 
 
 "Miss Weatherson was well, she was a woman
 
 THE AWAKENING 331 
 
 hence it was not astonishing that she should have 
 noticed the fine features and dark eyes of the con- 
 vict guide. She also noted that he was of splendid 
 stature and that his figure, which even the miserable 
 prison garb of the trusty could not quite conceal, was 
 magnificently proportioned and as erect as that of 
 a soldier. He showed the athlete in every line and 
 movement. 
 
 Dan Cupid, still in the prompter's box, noticing 
 that the young woman was, becoming critical, 
 whistled to the devil, who still was peeping out from 
 the wings, awaiting his cue, and cried : 
 
 ' * Nothing doing for you, Cloven Hoof, but you did 
 well to stick around a while. The play begins to 
 look interesting, and you might be glad to know what 
 the real thing is like. ' ' 
 
 And as the young woman looked at the prisoner 
 she wondered what grim tragedy lay behind that 
 number 515. Somehow, she instinctively rebelled 
 at the thought that this man could have committed 
 a crime which justified his presence here. How 
 could such a man have been even touched, were it 
 ever so lightly, by the mantle of disgrace? She 
 would ask the Major about him at dinner. The un- 
 fortunate fellow was not, she felt sure, and never 
 could have been, a part of that under- world which 
 she, like every other well-bred woman, had seen only 
 as through a glass smoked by conventionality, and 
 which she only recently ever had endeavored to com- 
 prehend as part of the great problem of humanity 
 a problem that it was her duty to understand, if 
 she would be of social service. 
 
 The young man must have come from refined sur- 
 roundings ; he could not always have been de classe 
 of this she was quite convinced. His world and
 
 332 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 her's could not have been so very far apart out yon- 
 der, beyond that grey forbidding wall. 
 
 In fancy she could see his mother a woman of her 
 own class, she felt quite certain grey-haired, bowed 
 with grief and shame by the fate of her boy. Or did 
 the mother know? She hoped that the poor thing 
 did not know. 
 
 And his sister or did he have a sister? If so, 
 how that sister must have felt when she heard of 
 her brother's downfall ! How wretched both mother 
 and sister now must feel, as the consciousness of the 
 emptiness of their wrecked, unhappy lives was 
 borne in upon them, day by day, by his absence and 
 the knowledge that he would not come until How 
 long, she wondered, was his sentence ? 
 
 What must he himself have felt when the grim, 
 ponderous gates of Sing Sing closed upon him! 
 How cruel it must have been to lose that outer 
 world which always has meant so much to men like 
 him strong, intelligent, handsome and ambitious 
 men. She was confident that he had been ambitious 
 and proud! She quite understood his averted eyes 
 and the almost monosyllabic answers to her ques- 
 tions that he gave when he was not off guard. 
 As she thought of all these things a great wave of 
 pity swept over her, and tears almost sprang to her 
 eyes. 
 
 When a woman really pities a man, even one who 
 is quite impossible, she is on thin ice. Unconscious 
 of its meaning she may be, but there always is a 
 touch of that mysterious under-thrill that is more 
 than pity, and which, when the fates so decree, 
 grows into something that has irresistibly drawn the 
 sexes together, in jail or out, since the earth was 
 new.
 
 THE AWAKENING 333 
 
 No. 515, with face averted so far as might be, 
 battled with the most disturbing emotions that ever 
 beset any man. Miss Weatherson typified the only 
 ideal of womankind, save his own mother, that ever 
 had entered his life, even in the slightest degree, 
 and more, she typified the world, the beautiful world 
 that he had left behind. She stood for what right- 
 fully was his. She was a mirror, in which was re- 
 flected his own youth, the youth that was buried in 
 that awful prison. In her he saw his dreams of fame, 
 of love, of home, and of children. In her he saw 
 all that might have been, and all that still might be, 
 if only ! 
 
 There are no supreme moments in the lives of the 
 commonplace. Neither their joys nor their sorrows, 
 ever quite reach the heights. There is a law of com- 
 pensation in human life, and when the emotion meter 
 that nature implanted in the breast of man, and 
 which nestles close to his very soul, registers too 
 high, she has a trick of knocking it the other way. 
 Perhaps it is better so, for what could be juster than 
 rendering unto Caesar those things which are Cae- 
 sar's? 
 
 The supreme moment of Robert Parkyn's life 
 now was very near. He was destined to live his 
 life, not as he had originally planned, still less as 
 Boss Hennessy had planned. The fates one day 
 would be very kind to him. He would marry and 
 have children, and it was written in the Book of 
 Fate that he would live to hear the prattle of his 
 children 's children ; he again would be a man among 
 men, and mingle with the respectable, even with the 
 rich and famous sons of earth, as upon equal 
 terms, but never again would he have a moment of
 
 334 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ecstasy quite like that which soon would be his 
 and he did not know ! 
 
 He knew nothing, save that his very brain was on 
 fire. He had no thought, no impulse, save to get 
 away to make a break for liberty and all those 
 wonderful and beautiful things that lay just beyond 
 those grey, frowning walls of insensate stone 
 things which he never half appreciated until he was 
 cast within those walls, and never fully appreciated 
 until now. His life might be forfeited, but men 
 had died by thousands for less, far less than the 
 things that lay in the land of his heart's desire, just 
 beyond that cruel barrier which was so jealously 
 guarded by those ruffians in the sentry boxes. 
 
 They were passing the large gate through which 
 the supply wagons were wont to pass. No. 515 saw 
 that it was open ! Opportunity knocked loudly at his 
 door, and an irresistible flood of desire swept over 
 him. Weird, inconstant lights flickered before his 
 vision. He turned, gazed at Miss Weatherson for a 
 second with an expression that startled her with its 
 fierce intensity, and then madly tore through the 
 gate, upsetting one of the guards on the way. 
 
 Immediately outside were several men, who evi- 
 dently had just passed out by the gate. They heard the 
 startled cry of the guards and turned inquiringly. 
 Instantly grasping the situation, they attempted to 
 block the fleeing convict's way. One man, larger and 
 more powerful than the rest, stepped directly in 
 front of him and grasped him by the shoulder. 
 
 The recognition was as brief as it was mutual 
 and most disastrous to one of the parties. Boss 
 Hennessy went down like a pole-axed ox, under a
 
 THE AWAKENING 335 
 
 crushing blow from some object which the escaping 
 prisoner had taken out of his pocket as he ran ! 
 
 The supreme moment of Eobert Parkyn's life 
 was then! Never again would he experience such 
 delight as he felt when, impelled by his powerful, 
 scientific hand, the warden's paper-weight crushed 
 against Bull Hennessy's thick skull. The sensation 
 of the impact of the weapon against his enemy's 
 head, and the quick sinking of the ruffian ' s body, un- 
 der the blow, gave the fleeing man the most joyous 
 thrill that he ever had experienced or ever would. 
 
 Bowling over several men with his powerful fists, 
 and hurling another upon his face in the dust and 
 gravel of the roadway, the fugitive raced like a mar- 
 athon runner for the river, amid a hail of bullets 
 from every official that was within range or who 
 thought he was! 
 
 Miss Weatherson sank, half-fainting, into her 
 father's arms.
 
 CHAPTER XXI 
 
 THE GET AWAY 
 
 When Duryea returned to the warden's office he 
 found Major Donaldson standing by the front win- 
 dow, smoking and gazing pensively towards the 
 mountains. The Major blew the clouds of fragrant 
 smoke towards the open window, where they lazily 
 floated in the warm air for a moment, and then were 
 dissipated, like the unsubstantial things they were, 
 by the soft, warm breeze that was gently blowing 
 up-river. 
 
 The door was open and the young man entered 
 without knocking. He saw by the clock that he was 
 in for a call-down, if the warden was not in a pleas- 
 ant mood, for the secretary had been away for a 
 longer time than even good-nature should have been 
 expected to overlook without protest, and the fact 
 that he had found McCabe more than usually inter- 
 esting would not have been accepted as a reason- 
 able excuse for his remissness. 
 
 The chief deputy and he had wrangled over the 
 warden's pet theories and peculiar methods until 
 both men were on edge and ready to fight a buzz- 
 saw, if necessary to support their arguments. They 
 finally compromised on the consideration of some 
 of the Major's good qualities which even the chief 
 deputy was willing to concede only to begin all 
 over again. McCabe forgot his dinner for the time
 
 THE GET AWAY 337 
 
 being which was bad, and the secretary forgot the 
 duties of his office which was worse. As Duryea 
 ate with the Major, who liked both a late dinner and 
 company, he took a rather unfair advantage of Mc- 
 Cabe. 
 
 When the two parted, the subjects over which 
 they wrangled still were unsettled. Like the im- 
 mortal Omar, each had * ' heard great argument about 
 it and about," yet had come out the same door 
 wherein he went. 
 
 The chief deputy still opposed the warden's "dip- 
 py" ideas, although he admitted that the Major 
 had redeeming qualities of mind which likely would 
 save him from going completely "nutty." McCabe 
 further deposed that the Major had a good heart, 
 which was leavening for the lump of his monstrous- 
 ly fallacious theories and still more egeregiously 
 mistaken practices. 
 
 Duryea, as usual, contended that the Major's ideas 
 were logical, and his methods as sound as his heart 
 was warm and his ideals high. 
 
 The secretary had had a Christian upbringing, 
 but he plainly demonstated that, while he still had 
 faith in a Supreme Being, he suspected it was a mis- 
 take that Major Donaldson had not been given charge 
 of the universe at the very beginning of things 
 which was not irreverence, but merely an appreci- 
 ation. 
 
 It is possible that no compromise between McCabe 
 and Duryea ever would have been possible had there 
 not been a common ground of adverse criticism of 
 the Major. Both men had found a bit irksome the 
 strict military etiquette that he had established. Ev- 
 en this cause of complaint, however, was facetiously 
 treated by Duryea, whilst McCabe, although he
 
 338 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 growled a good deal at the "damn nonsense" of it 
 all, set it down as the least objectionable of the 
 various phases of the old soldier's mental squint. 
 
 As the warden apparently did not notice his sec- 
 retary's entrance, Duryea discreetly coughed slight- 
 ly to announce his arrival. He was rather pleased 
 than otherwise that the Major did not hear this 
 signal. He rather dreaded the call-down that was 
 due him for the second time that day, and, like a 
 criminal under capital sentence, he welcomed delay. 
 None of us likes to face disagreeable things we all 
 stave off the issue as long as we possibly can. 
 
 "Well," he thought, as he went to his desk and 
 quietly seated himself, "this will help some. If the 
 dear old Major had about-faced when I gave him 
 the high sign, I'd have had to go through the usual 
 motions. He'd have starched me stiff with military 
 etiquette, and then turned the hose on me and washed 
 it out. 'Half a loaf is better than no loaf when a 
 loafer has a roast coming to him. 
 
 "Humph!" muttered the young fellow to himself, 
 as he glanced at the desk. * * The warden has plenty 
 more work laid out for me. Wonder where he dug 
 it all up. ' ' and he dove into the papers, meanwhile 
 rattling them prodigiously. 
 
 "That you, Duryea?" inquired the Major, finally 
 awaking from his revery, but without turning 
 around, and still gazing out of the window. 
 
 Y yes, sir," the secretary ventured, mentally 
 bracing himself for the anticipated squall. 
 
 But the storm did not come. The Major went on 
 with his day dreams. Presently he observed, smil- 
 ingly: 
 
 "Do you know what I was thinking of, Howard!"
 
 THE GET AWAY 339 
 
 "Haven't the least idea, sir," replied Duryea, 
 cheerfully, his spirits beginning to rise. ' ' Something 
 about prison reform methods, perhaps." 
 
 "Yes and, no," responded the Major, slowly. "I 
 was thinking of a legend I once heard, of an old sag- 
 amore of the Iroquois ! 
 
 "He was a wise old man, who, like the chief in the 
 Last of the Mohicans, had seen too much, had 
 dreamed dreams and had lived too long. 
 
 "The venerable sagamore had a magic calumet, 
 that he used to smoke as the evening shadows fell. 
 
 "One of the young braves was wont to sit at 
 the sagamore's feet and gather the pearls of the old 
 man's wisdom. Noticing that he blew the smoke of 
 the calumet in fragrant billows always toward the 
 west, the young warrior marveled. 
 
 " 'Why, father,' he asked, 'dost thou not blow 
 the smoke of the kilikinnic toward the east? Why 
 ever toward the west?' 
 
 " 'Because I see visions in the smoke-clouds, and 
 I like not those that I see in the east. There I see 
 only the fire and the smoke and grime of the white 
 man's lodges, and the thunder and lightning of his 
 war canoes. I see not one redman. In the west I 
 see nations of redmen, moving, ever moving, to- 
 ward the caverns where sinks the setting sun.' " 
 
 The Major blew a great cloud of smoke from his 
 havana through the steel lattice of the window, and 
 watched it as it slowly floated away down the prison 
 yard. 
 
 "Beautiful legend, isn't it, Howard?" 
 
 "Indeed it is, sir," responded the secretary, en- 
 thusiastically. He made no further comment he 
 was enjoying the warden's mood too much to risk
 
 340 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 side-tracking him and the Major continued his sen- 
 timentalizing. 
 
 "Well, that beautiful legend came to my mind as 
 I stood here smoking. Like the old sagamore, I do 
 not fancy the visions I see in the east." 
 
 He turned and pointed towards the windows that 
 opened on the rear of the prison yard, through 
 which Duryea could see part of the various dreary- 
 looking buildings that were enclosed within the walls, 
 and plunged into one of his homilies. 
 
 "There I see the machinery of the old hide- 
 bound social regime, that has marched relent- 
 lessy on, robbing its human misfits of their liberty 
 or shedding their blood, as if it were the strong 
 man's duty to discipline his weaker brother for the 
 evils God has thrust upon him. It has been and is 
 a reign of cruelty and ignorance, in which the dom- 
 inant idea has been to punish the victims of God's 
 handiwork for the mistakes of their Creator, who, 
 if He but willed, merely by a wave of His hand, in 
 the minutest fraction of a second, could set things 
 right. And," he went on, "mankind never has been 
 able to see the absurdity of trying to render justice 
 to Society by inflicting injustice on the individual 
 victim of its own sins. 
 
 "When I look yonder, toward the west," he said, 
 waving his hand toward the opposite bank of the 
 river, "I see both nature and man at their best. 
 
 "Over there are some of man's concessions to 
 beauty and near-improvements on nature those 
 beautiful villas and picturesque farm houses. There, 
 too, are the river, the green everlasting hills and the 
 turquoise blue of the sky, that call me sometimes, 
 almost irresistibly, away from the sordid, miserable 
 wreckage that man has made of man, back to things
 
 THE GET AWAY 341 
 
 primitive, where even the humblest of nature's works 
 is beautiful. 
 
 "Did it ever occur to you, my boy, that all of 
 the real blots on this dear old mud-and-green world 
 of ours have been made by man?" 
 
 The Major did not wait for an answer. 
 
 "I wonder," he mused, reflectively, "just what 
 man would do if he could play his part all over 
 again. He'd be as selfish and cruel as ever, I fear. 
 I think I know what the Creator would do, if He 
 were to do His own work all over from the begin- 
 ning. He 'd leave man entirely out of His scheme of 
 things." 
 
 The secretary listened with rapt attention to his 
 chief's homily, but smiled a little at his decided 
 pessimism. 
 
 "Listen to that!" exclaimed the warden. 
 
 From the jail-yard came the sound of hundreds 
 of shuffling, scraping feet, plodding their spiritless 
 way along the stone and gravel walks. 
 
 The Major went to a rear window overlooking the 
 yard, and motioned to Duryea to join him. The 
 shuffling, shambling lines of leaden-faced prisoners 
 were slowly filing at lock-step from the dining hall 
 on the way back to the cells, from which shortly they 
 again would be driven forth in hideous, crop-haired, 
 striped lines to the stone-yard and the various work- 
 shops to resume their roles of beasts of burden and 
 of toil. 
 
 "See," said the warden, "how ingenious we are 
 in devising means to defeat our own ends ! There 
 is not a single prison custom which has not been 
 stamped on the minds and hearts of those poor dev- 
 ils that has not made them worse, instead of better. 
 Our prison system pours them all into the same
 
 342 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 mould stamps them with the same hall mark. The 
 hardened offender, the new beginner the incurable 
 and the curable all are reduced to the same degrad- 
 ed level. The State immures them here in this hell- 
 hole instead of working them on farms and roads in 
 the open, where they not only could pay their own 
 way, but be physically rejuvenated. 
 
 "Do you see that boy near the end of the line 
 nearest us?" interrogated the Major, sadly. "Well, 
 that case alone is enough to damn any social system 
 that would permit him to be here. ' ' 
 
 "Poor little chap!" Duryea exclaimed, with lively 
 interest. "I've noticed him several times before. 
 He's a new arrival, I think. I've wondered what he 
 was in for, and had intended to look up his record, 
 but forgot it. One of the guards said the lad was 
 in for murder, but what the guards don't know about 
 prisoners would fill those cabinets of ours several 
 times over." 
 
 "Well," said the Major, ironically, "for once a 
 guard was right. That child entered the institution 
 a few days ago, to begin a life sentence for murder ! ' ' 
 
 "Great God! Major, you don't mean to say that 
 that young lad really did commit a murder!" 
 
 "Unfortunately, yes," replied the Major, gravely. 
 "He became involved in a quarrel over a bad woman 
 the lowest of the low. The boy was crazy drunk, 
 and probably had a very hazy consciousness of what 
 he was doing. And they punished the wrong man ! ' ' 
 
 "The wrong man, Major?" 
 
 "Yes, the wrong man the fellow who sold him 
 the whiskey still is at large. Incidentally no one 
 has gone gunning for the authorities who issued the 
 real murderer's license, nor started a crusade for
 
 THE GET AWAY 343 
 
 the protection of boys from the Scarlet Sisterhood. ' ' 
 
 " Can't you make a trusty of him, sir?" 
 
 "He will assume his duties as doorkeeper in the 
 hospital tomorrow," rejoined the warden, quietly. 
 
 "There are men in that line," he went on, gloom- 
 ily, "who have children and who, when they are set 
 free, will breed more children, that will have crimin- 
 ality in their veins the day they are born. The State 
 does nothing to prevent the birth of such social mis- 
 fits, nor to save them once they are born. The grey- 
 haired man just behind that lad is a lifer, who was 
 sent up for murder from our own home town. He 
 left a decent wife and six beautiful children behind 
 him. The State is doing nothing to insure their 
 safety, but it has cells ready for them here if they 
 go wrong. 
 
 "Howard, my boy, that hideous, creeping, shuf- 
 fling, many-jointed line of prisoners is devouring 
 my respect for my fellow-man. What is more, it is 
 getting on my nerves." 
 
 One of the prisoners stumbled and was forced 
 out of alignment. A guard sprang at him and 
 roughly grasped him by the shoulder, violently push- 
 ing him back into place. Had not one of his fellow- 
 convicts caught him, he would have fallen on his 
 face upon the flagging. 
 
 "Damn you, No. 10! close up there!" bellowed 
 the guard, ferociously. "What in hell are ye tryin' 
 to do, you infernal lobster? I '11 knock yer ugly block 
 off, if ye 're not damned careful ! ' ' 
 
 "Oh, will you?" growled the warden to himself. 
 "We shall see about that, my friend." 
 
 He turned to his secretary and said, quietly : * ' Mr. 
 Duryea, see that Sullivan reports to me tomorrow 
 morning. I wish formally to take up with him the
 
 344 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 matter of knocking the 'blocks' off our prisoners. 
 Possibly, also, I may have something to say about 
 his language. 
 
 "What can one man alone accomplish against a 
 system like that?" the Major resumed, sighing hope- 
 lessly. "I may succeed in pounding some sense and 
 common decency into that guard, but that will be 
 only a drop of reform in the ocean of misery that has 
 submerged Society's dregs. 
 
 1 ' That file of prisoners, ' ' he went on, moodily, * ' is 
 only one among thousands upon thousands of similar 
 striped monsters that are gnawing at Society's very 
 heart." 
 
 The prisoners shuffled on, the two men watching 
 with thoughtful eyes the long files of unfortunates. 
 As the last of the convicts were entering the cell- 
 houses the warden turned away disgustedly. 
 
 ' * What an awful tragedy ! " he exclaimed. ' * When 
 will Society quit piling Pelion upon Ossa, heaping 
 mountains of degradation on those who already are 
 degraded and burying them so deep that they never 
 can rise while the world lasts? When will Society 
 try to make men better instead of worse? When 
 will" 
 
 There was a sudden commotion in the jail-yard. 
 
 "Halt! Stop him!" cried several voices. 
 
 Two shots rang out! 
 
 The guards in the rear of the file of prisoners 
 quickly hustled them into the cell-houses. Other 
 guards were seen running madly towards the gate 
 at the farther end of the jail enclosure, used for re- 
 ceiving supplies and the passage of wagons loaded 
 with goods manufactured in the various departments 
 of the prison. Several sentries sped along the top 
 of the wall in the same direction. When they arrived
 
 THE GET AWAY 345 
 
 in the vicinity of the gate they began pumping lead 
 as rapidly as they could fill chamber and pull trig- 
 ger, evidently at some target in the direction of the 
 river. 
 
 Major Donaldson and Duryea looked in the direc- 
 tion of the disturbance. As they did so, they heard 
 a fusillade of shots outside the prison in the direc- 
 tion in which the sentries had fired, and saw McCabe 
 and a number of guards running swiftly towards 
 the scene of the commotion. 
 
 The sound grew fainter and fainter, and finally, 
 with what was distinctly a volley, somewhere along 
 the river, abruptly ceased. 
 
 11 Another poor devil breaking jail!" exclaimed 
 the Major, grimly; "another case for the hospital 
 or the morgue with more trouble for yours truly. ' ' 
 
 The two men were about to rush for their hats, 
 with the intention of going out to investigate, when 
 Duryea exclaimed: 
 
 "Look, Major, here comes McCabe! A lady and 
 a gentleman are with him ! ' ' 
 
 The Major at once recognized his friends, the 
 Weathersons. They were greatly agitated and Mr. 
 Weatherson was supporting his daughter, who ap- 
 peared to be leaning heavily on his arm. 
 
 "What the deuce!" exclaimed the astonished war- 
 den, ' * Howard, go and meet them and escort them 
 here immediately ! Where is that trusty, I wonder ? ' ' 
 
 The secretary obeyed and a moment later the 
 Weathersons entered, followed closely by Duryea, 
 McCabe shamefacedly bringing up the rear. 
 
 Mr. Weatherson was endeavoring to calm his 
 daughter. 
 
 "What on earth has happened to you, 'Lishe?" 
 asked the warden.
 
 346 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Mr. Weatherson put one arm around his daugh- 
 ter's waist and with the other gently patted her 
 cheek. 
 
 ''Major," he said, calmly, "I'm afraid we're in 
 for a blowing up. We've lost a perfectly good 
 guide." 
 
 "What! Lost your guide? Was that ?" 
 
 "Your 'trusty'? Yes," replied his friend, dryly, 
 "He didn't seem to like our company." 
 
 "What's up, McCabe!" inquired the Major, anx- 
 iously. 
 
 The chief deputy warden nervously mopped his 
 face with his handkerchief. 
 
 "A a prisoner escaped, sir, a trusty No. 515. 
 He he was showin' this lady an' gentleman around, 
 an' when they passed the gate he made a break an' 
 an ' well, he got away ! ' ' 
 
 1 1 How did that gate happen to be open at this time 
 of day, McCabe ? ' ' demanded the warden, sternly. 
 
 "One o' the guards had just opened it to let Mr. 
 Hennessy an' a couple o' his friends pass through, 
 sir. Mr. Hennessy didn't want to go clear back to 
 the main entrance, an' " 
 
 "Oh, I see!" interjected the Major, sarcastically. 
 "If Mr. Bull Hennessy wants anything, he's just got 
 to have it and no questions asked. I trust that the 
 guard saved the gate." 
 
 McCabe looked bewildered. 
 
 "Go on," commanded the Major, gloomily. 
 
 "Ye see, sir," continued McCabe, "as No. 515 
 was a trusty, an' was showin' your friends around, 
 nobody suspected that he'd try to pull off a get- 
 away. The guard was taken by surprise, sir. ' ' 
 
 "Evidently," said the warden, satirically. "Did 
 you round up the prisoner?"
 
 THE GET AWAY 347 
 
 "W why, n no, not exactly," stammered the 
 now throughly demoralized chief deputy. "Ye see, 
 sir, the guard at the gate fired " 
 
 1 * That guard shot twice at the poor man ! ' ' flashed 
 Miss Weatherson, indignantly, her eyes blazing with 
 resentment. "He ought to be flogged the brute! 
 Why do you have such men about you, Major Don- 
 aldson?" 
 
 The Major was too seriously preoccupied to re- 
 
 piy- 
 
 "He was hit, sir," McCabe went on, with a show 
 of assurance, "but that didn't stop him. One o' 
 the guards missed him clean, but' I'm sure the other 
 winged him. The sentries took half a dozen pot 
 shots at him, too. He ran like a deer, with one arm 
 a-floppin'; he doubled behind some sheds down by 
 the river, an' jumped inter the water before the 
 guards could get anywhere near him. 
 
 "We all took a crack at him in the water," he con- 
 tinued, defensively, "an' I'm bettin' we got him, 
 all right ; for when we come to the bank he 'd sunk 
 out o' sight, an' there was quite a lot o' blood in 
 the water where he went down. ' ' 
 
 Miss Weatherson could hardly contain herself 
 while McCabe was telling his grewsome story. Her 
 eyes shot baleful lightnings at him, and if fiery 
 glances had been bullets, the luckless chief deputy 
 would have been riddled, then and there. 
 
 As the official ended his recital, the young woman, 
 with accusing finger, sprang towards him furiously, 
 
 ' * Murderer ! ' ' she cried. 
 
 Her father interposed and putting his arm around 
 her waist endeavored to calm her. 
 
 "Ss sh!" he whispered. "You mustn't forget 
 yourself, dear."
 
 348 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "I am not so sure that you got him, Mr. McCabe," 
 asserted the warden, with the evident object of mol- 
 lifying the young woman. "He's a pretty smart 
 sort of a chap, and may have played 'possum." 
 
 "Don't you ever believe it, sir," confidently re- 
 plied the obtuse McCabe. "Why, I got a bead on 
 him myself! An' I'll bet I" 
 
 His eye met the blaze in Miss Weatherson's, and 
 he checked himself just in time. 
 
 "Well, anyway," continued the still blundering 
 McCabe, "bein' smart don't help a feller much when 
 one wing is busted an' his lungs is chock full o' old 
 Hudson. Oxygen's worth more'n brains, when ye 're 
 under water. 
 
 "An' an' there's there's somethin' else I've 
 got to tell ye, sir, ' ' he went on, apprehensively, ' ' Mr. 
 Hennessy got in the prisoner's way tried ter stop 
 him, sir an' an' the feller cracked his head fer 
 him." 
 
 "Well, here's where I pack my trunk!" said the 
 warden to himself. "Hennessy might stand for the 
 calling down I gave him, but never for a cracked 
 head." 
 
 "We sent him ter the hospital, sir," McCabe re- 
 marked in conclusion. 
 
 "Served him good and right!" said Miss Weather- 
 son, spunkily, her face lighting up with real satis- 
 faction. "He's not a prison official!" 
 
 "Come, come, dear!" whispered the father. 
 "Neither are you." 
 
 "So Hennessy is in the hospital, eh?" remarked 
 the Major, imperturbably. "That's bad, very bad! 
 That prisoner certainly was rather careless in his 
 conduct. What did he hit the Boss with, and how 
 did he get possession of the weapon I ' '
 
 THE GET AWAY 349 
 
 "With this, sir. He must ha' took it from your 
 desk." 
 
 McCabe drew from his pocket the paper-weight 
 which the escaping prisoner had wielded so effective- 
 ly, and gave it to the warden. 
 
 For a second the Major looked at the article in 
 blank astonishment. 
 
 "My paper-weight!" he exclaimed. "Well, it 
 seems that I'm an accessory after the fact. A 
 Christmas present, too. 
 
 "Is the Boss seriously hurt, McCabe?" he quer- 
 ied, as he reflectively balanced the weight in his 
 hand. 
 
 "The doctor says he had a narrow escape, sir, 
 but his skull ain't fractured, an' he'll be all right 
 tomorrow. ' ' 
 
 The Major looked at the paper-weight, still bal- 
 ancing it in his hand, and remarked, abstractedly : 
 
 "How flimsy all this Christmas stuff is!" 
 
 "Shall I get out the dogs, sir?" asked McCabe. 
 
 "No, we might get 'em wet," said the Major, as 
 he carelessly tossed the paper-weight upon the desk. 
 "Dogs cost money, McCabe. Have the river pa- 
 trolled, and the usual dispatches sent to the police 
 and let it go at that." 
 
 McCabe perceptibly was getting wabbly. 
 
 "B but, shan't we drag the river, sir; we might 
 
 
 "No," answered the Major, interrupting the chief 
 deputy by an impatient wave of the hand. * * Every- 
 body knows we 're good shots. Nobody will question 
 what probably happened." 
 
 McCabe shrewdly drew the conclusion that the 
 warden did not want the man-hunt continued or the 
 river dragged for the body, simply because, if the
 
 350 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 search proved unsuccessful, these measures would be 
 a tacit admission of doubt as to the final escape of 
 the prisoner. This, he thought, obviously was a 
 slight sop to the Cerberus of criticism. Then, too, 
 he believed that a long-continued man-hunt would 
 be an advertisement for the management of Sing 
 Sing which the warden and his subordinates could 
 ill afford. McCabe, therefore, was rather relieved 
 by his superior's stand-pat attitude. 
 
 The chief deputy warden was only partially cor- 
 rect in his conclusions. The Major's motive for let- 
 ting well-enough alone escaped him. The method of 
 the Major's design was as McCabe cunningly sur- 
 mised. The beneficiary that the old soldier had in 
 mind was, however, not his own administration, but 
 the late or at least now somewhat problematic 
 No. 515. 
 
 Feeling that the situation was tolerably safe, Mc- 
 Cabe smiled inwardly, saluted the Major and was 
 about to make his departure. 
 
 "Oh, by the way, Mr. McCabe," said the warden, 
 picking up the paper-weight. 
 
 The chief deputy halted and saluted. 
 
 "Yes, sir." 
 
 The Major proffered him the paper-weight, which 
 he took mechanically, glancing bewilderedly first at 
 the paper-weight and then at his chief, and dubiously 
 shaking his head. 
 
 "Have that useful article silver-mounted for me 
 at your earliest convenience, McCabe," said the Ma- 
 jor, with the suave smile and the politely satirical 
 inflection of which he was master. "When it is 
 done, deliver it at my private quarters. I wish to 
 keep it where it will not be dangerous to good citi- 
 zens. We can ill afford to lose such distinguished 
 men as Mr. Hennessy."
 
 THE GET AWAY 351 
 
 McCabe, with mouth agape, stood looking alter- 
 nately at the' Major and the weight, until the war- 
 den impatiently waved his hand as an indication 
 that his subordinate would better be on his way. As 
 he went slowly toward the door, gazing at the paper- 
 weight with a puzzled air and muttering to himself, 
 the warden called after him: 
 
 "Say, McCabe, don't mind expense! Have it 
 charged to my personal account, not to the state. 
 I pay for my own luxuries and pleasures." 
 
 Miss Weatherson had listened with rapt interest 
 to the dialogue between the warden and the chief 
 deputy. She was not sufficiently worldly-wise to 
 analyze either the Major's motives or his methods, 
 but she was overjoyed when she found that there 
 was to be no further pursuit of the fleeing convict. 
 Deep down in her breast she did not believe the man 
 was dead. This belief was not founded upon any 
 logicality of deduction she just did not believe it, 
 that was all. That the wish was father to the 
 thought goes without the saying, and no one, prob- 
 ably, will quarrel with the view that her conclusion 
 was born of the intuition which descended to her 
 from the Countess Eve, who doubtless herself had 
 acquired intuition several hours before she arrived 
 at the dignity of fig-leaves. The fact that in the 
 case of Eve's daughters intuition and fig-leaves of 
 various styles and patterns ever since have been 
 most intimately associated, has, of course, no bearing 
 on the events of this story. 
 
 The chief deputy warden's story had inspired 
 Josephine Weatherson with horror and disgust, yet 
 these sentiments were so tempered with joy by the 
 thought that, after all, the unfortunate prisoner
 
 352 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 might have escaped, that the shock she experienced 
 from listening to the deputy warden's brutal recital 
 now was made endurable. 
 
 "The poor fellow! I hope he got away!" she ex- 
 claimed tearfully, as McCabe disappeared through 
 the door. 
 
 "What! A murderer!" exclaimed the Major, 
 "And you hope he got away?" 
 
 "That man a murderer!" she indignantly pro- 
 tested. "I don't believe it!" 
 
 "See here, my dear girl!" expostulated the war- 
 den, "you are dangerously near contempt of court. 
 The fellow was found guilty." 
 
 "Well, all the same, I don't believe the poor young 
 man was guilty, and I hope more than ever that he 
 fooled those beastly guards ! So there, now ! ' ' 
 
 There was an odd expression in the old soldier's 
 eyes, as he turned to his secretary. 
 
 "Mr. Duryea," he said, "kindly close that door." 
 
 "And now, young woman," he commanded, with 
 mock gravity and a pretense of brusquerie, "kindly 
 repeat what you said just now. ' ' 
 
 "Indeed I will!" she flashed defiantly. "I said I 
 hoped that convict got away!" 
 
 The Major stepped closer to her and caught the 
 lobe of one pink ear between his finger and thumb. 
 
 "So do I, my dear," he whispered, so loudly that 
 his wisdom in ordering his secretary to shut the 
 door became evident. 
 
 "Bully!" exclaimed Duryea, clapping his hands 
 in glee. 
 
 Miss Weatherson actually bubbled over with de- 
 light, as she rushed for the warden. 
 
 "Now I will kiss you, you lovable old bear, you!"
 
 THE GET AWAY 353 
 
 She threw her arms around his neck and gave him 
 several resounding kisses that made poor Duryea's 
 mouth water. Indeed, the young man felt for the 
 moment that youth had no privileges which ever 
 need excite the envy of the dear old man. 
 
 Major Donaldson, gasping for breath and ex- 
 tremely fussed, but delighted even unto the sev- 
 enth heaven, disengaged himself and sputtered : 
 
 4 'Order in the court! Order, I say!" 
 
 He pounded vigorously on the desk, whilst he was 
 collecting the remnants of his badly shattered offic- 
 ial dignity. 
 
 Duryea, resting first on one leg and then upon the 
 other, stood ostentatiously looking at the ceiling. 
 He finally, discreetly, but it must be admitted, point- 
 edly, coughed behind his hand. 
 
 The warden looked up with a start and glanced 
 inquiringly at his secretary. His kindly eyes 
 twinkled with comprehension, and amusement at the 
 perennial ' 'freshness" and assurance of youth, 
 which never was and never can be subordinated by 
 or to, anything or anybody. 
 
 "Oh! I beg pardon, Howard. Miss Weatherson, 
 permit me to present my secretary, Mr. Duryea." 
 
 The Major dabbed his brow and face with his 
 handkerchief and heaved a deep sigh. 
 
 "You will excuse my inadvertence, won't you," 
 he said, with his characteristic courtesy. "I well, 
 I'm getting old, I guess, and and I've had a rather 
 strenuous morning, and and you understand, I'm 
 quite sure." 
 
 With affectionate emotion they could not quite 
 conceal, and of which they were unashamed, Dur- 
 yea and the Weathersons assured the grand old man 
 that they quite "understood."
 
 354 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Come," said the Major, gayly, glancing at the 
 time and now quite sure of himself; "let's go to
 
 BOOK III
 
 CHAPTER XXII 
 
 THE ARGONAUT 
 
 The stage line from Bismarck to Deadwood, Da- 
 kota, in the late " seventies, " was a cosmopolitan 
 * ' common carrier. ' ' On most of its trips, an observ- 
 ant passenger might have fancied himself a partic- 
 ipant in a traveling congress of nations. 
 
 With the discovery of the precious metal in the 
 Black Hills, in 1874, the gold fever struck the ter- 
 ritory of Dakota and, true to form in the history of 
 gold discovery, had called from the four corners of 
 the earth a horde of delvers and diggers after the 
 yellow stuff. 
 
 Argonauts old and Argonauts new, venerable Ja- 
 sons who had sought the golden fleece in California 
 in '49 ; middle-aged fortune hunters who had engaged 
 in the quest of the auriferous earth in far-off Aus- 
 tralia, or tramped under the banner of "Pike's Peak 
 or Bust ; ' ' youthful gold-seekers who made up in en- 
 thusiasm and greed what they so woefully lacked in 
 experience all set their faces toward the "land of 
 the Dakotahs," where lay the pot of gold at the foot 
 of the rainbow. 
 
 Eainbow-chasers are temperamentally the same 
 the world over. One touch of Mammon makes the 
 whole world kin. The sturdy Englishman and his 
 neighbors the aggressive, fighting, laughing Irish- 
 man and the canny, burr-tongued Scot; the volatile
 
 358 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Frenchman and his dearest foe, the phlegmatic Ger- 
 man ; the dark-eyed, dark-skinned Latin from sunny 
 Spain or fair Italia ; the flaxen-haired, pink-cheeked 
 Scandinavian, perchance from the land of the mid- 
 night sun ; the nondescript American in all his infi- 
 nite variety there is no country on the globe that 
 has not furnished its quota of Argonauts wherever 
 the news of gold-discovery has spread over the 
 world, and these men ever have been brothers in 
 arms. 
 
 Dakota received its full share of Argonauts from 
 everywhere and from "nowhere," if it so happened 
 that, for private and personal reasons, one did not 
 choose to publicly advertise his home and patrony- 
 mic and these gold-seekers all rode in the Dead- 
 wood stage. 
 
 Those who have traveled on the American fron- 
 tier probably will bear witness that none of the pas- 
 sengers on the old-time stage patronized that ven- 
 erable conveyance as a matter of choice. When a 
 fellow had to get somewhere and had no horse, or 
 couldn't ride if he had one, he traveled as best he 
 might. 
 
 Of course, the ancient vehicle was uncomfortable 
 mightily so but then, having made a virtue of 
 necessity, it was a great privilege to romance about 
 it in after years. 
 
 It always has been the delight of the gentle pio- 
 neer of early days to regale his fellow-travelers 
 in the smoking room of the modern luxurious Pull- 
 man, with stories of the "days of old and the land of 
 gold," when the giants of those days of whom the 
 raconteur^ of course, was one drove so gallantly 
 into the mining camp in one of those crazy old stages. 
 The modest hero paints the rickety old-time horror
 
 THE ARGONAUT 359 
 
 in wonderful colors that make the modern palace on 
 wheels blush for its own measly inferiority, and 
 invests the ancient machine of torture with a piece 
 of the brilliant halo with which he so ingenuously has 
 decorated himself. 
 
 The dear old modern replica of the late Baron 
 Miinchausen, most distinguished Peer of the Court 
 of Ananias, now proceeds to tell us how little he 
 had of this world's goods when he descended on that 
 mining camp, and what oodles of golden nuggets, 
 and bars, and placer-dust he brought away with 
 him. He may even tell one of the strain upon the 
 springs of the stage produced by his sacks of the 
 yellow metal on the way out of the diggings, states- 
 ward bound. 
 
 Perchance the pioneer of ancient days tells of that 
 thrilling hold-up, in which the Wells-Fargo messen- 
 ger was afraid to shoot, whereas he, single-handed 
 and alone, dispersed a gang of road-agents that 
 would have made a modern rogues ' gallery look like 
 the old-fashioned panoramic pictures of the heavenly 
 angels in Paradise Lost! Should he tell you of 
 these things, kind reader, have faith of that sublime 
 quality which moveth mountains. 
 
 However much of faith you may have, dear sir 
 or madam, 'tis but the rankest skepticism beside that 
 which has impelled the Argonaut of all times and all 
 nations to the quest of golden fortune. 
 
 A health to thee, brave Argonaut ! In thy sturdy 
 bosom dwell the three graces, Faith, Hope and Char- 
 ity and the greatest of these is Faith. Thou hast 
 made little of fortune, but since the world was young, 
 thou hast been the frontiersman of prosperous and 
 peaceful civilization and the father of progress. 
 May the ring of thy pick and the tintintabulation
 
 360 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 of thy pan be music to the ears of mankind when 
 the world has passed into the sere and yellow leaf. 
 
 Late of a pleasant, warm afternoon in May, 1878, 
 the incoming Deadwood stage discharged its usual 
 miscellaneous and cosmopolitan load of passengers 
 in front of the rude post-office of the enterprising 
 mining town. 
 
 The inevitable crowd of idlers that loitered about 
 the place, languidly surveyed the passengers as 
 they descended from the overloaded vehicle. 
 
 The tired, perspiring, unkempt passengers were so 
 heavily covered with dust that they presented a ho- 
 mogeneity of appearance which quite concealed their 
 racial, social and economic differences. 
 
 There rarely was any novelty among the new ar- 
 rivals. They afforded the loungers little entertain- 
 ment save that of watching the thirsty strangers as 
 they hiked for the numerous saloons grouped around 
 the post-office on the main street of the town. 
 
 Everybody's throat was thickly lined with road 
 dust, and nobody was supposed to have a bias in 
 favor of any particular saloon. The town was unfa- 
 miliar, the new-comers had yet to be educated in 
 the matter of who gave the most ''suds" for the 
 money, or was least alert when a fellow poured his 
 libation from the common bottle into the glass, 
 which the initiated so discreetly covered with their 
 hands as the liquor gurgled into the all-too-shallow 
 receptacles. Later they would get their bearings, 
 and some of them discriminatingly would patronize 
 those refectories in which the bar-keepers were most 
 urbane, considerate enough to look the other way 
 when a "gent" poured out the "red," and who nev-
 
 THE ABGONAUT 361 
 
 er handed a significant towel to a thirsty patron 
 simultaneously with his glass. 
 
 With most new arrivals it merely was a case of 
 "go to it!" The nearest bar was the best bar, and 
 the one that first caught the eye of the dust-choked 
 stranger always was the " nearest." 
 
 The Miners' Eest, a rude, wooden, two-story af- 
 fair just across the street from the post-office, was 
 literally what the late William Shakespeare, nee 
 Lord Bacon, and other notables of the chaste and 
 virtuous Elizabethan era, would have called "an 
 hostelry hard by." It was so "hard by" that it 
 received more than its share of the patronage of 
 Deadwood's thirsty and hungry new arrivals. It 
 was run by one McGinnis, who claimed lineage by 
 direct descent from Brian Boru "an' a dozen more 
 o' the likes o' thim" ancient Celts. 
 
 Eumor had it that convenience of location alone 
 was not responsible for the rush of eager sojourners 
 to the Miners ' Eest. It was said by envious compet- 
 itors that sundry perquisites fell into the hands of 
 Bill Harkins, the veteran driver of the stage, but 
 this could not have been true, for the reason that 
 the assumed parties to the alleged transaction both 
 denied it, and they were the only persons qualified 
 to speak with authority upon the subject. 
 
 Bill Harkins was a "two-gun-man" from some- 
 where or other, who had acquired his job of stage 
 driving by virtue of the frontier wisdom of the 
 Wells-Fargo outfit. The express company had more 
 confidence in the safety of the stage with Bill on the 
 box than they would have had if he were ranging 
 free. Knowing something of his history, they had 
 no confidence in anybody's ability to get the stage 
 to its destination without mishap, so long as the
 
 362 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 genial William was running loose. His munificent 
 salary had a liberal bonus attached to it, but the 
 express company considered Bill cheap at almost 
 any figure within reason. 
 
 Joe McGinnis, the genial boniface of the Miners' 
 Best, was himself "some quick on the draw." In 
 addition to this strictly martial and orthodox ac- 
 complishment, he was about as handy as they made 
 them in a rough-and-tumble "argument." As ex- 
 pressed by a gentleman who had been so indiscreet 
 as to get into an altercation with Mr. McGinnis 
 relative to a personal score on the slate, one of Joe 's 
 fists was "knock-out-drops" and the other "con- 
 cussion o' the brain." 
 
 Noting the talents of the doughty Harkins and the 
 versatile McGinnis, the conservative attitude of the 
 citizens of Deadwood toward all rumors of petty 
 graft involving the two gentlemen may readily be 
 understood. 
 
 Among the passengers that afternoon was a tall, 
 dark-eyed, dark-haired, athletic-looking young man, 
 apparently not yet in his thirties. His face was cov- 
 ered with a dark brown beard and mustache, evi- 
 dently of recent growth. He was plainly, indeed, 
 roughly dressed, and covered with more than his 
 share of road-dust, which bore evidence of the dis- 
 comfort of his long stage drive. 
 
 The rest of the new arrivals disembarked, went 
 their several ways and the now empty stage was 
 driven across the way to the Miners' Rest, where the 
 driver unharnessed his horses and hitched them to 
 the rack in the horse-shed. Bill then repaired to 
 the bar of the hotel and proceeded to refresh himself
 
 THE ARGONAUT 363 
 
 by copious libations to Bacchus, much to the delight 
 of his old crony, McGinnis. 
 
 The young man was left standing alone among 
 the loungers at the postoffice. He stood irresolutely 
 looking about him for a moment and then, noting 
 that the stage had been driven into the horse-shed 
 of the Miners ' Best, turned inquiringly to the party 
 of idlers : 
 
 "Well, gentlemen," he smilingly remarked, "I 
 presume that the safest plan for a stranger who 
 has not engaged hotel accommodations is to follow 
 the stage." 
 
 "Betcher life," replied one of the crowd. "Fol- 
 ler Bill Harkins an' ye '11 wear diamonds an' maybe 
 round up a drink." 
 
 "All right, boys," laughed the stranger. "That 
 endorsement is good enough for me, but if I strike 
 some good grub and a soft bed, I'll let Mr. Harkins 
 have the diamonds and the liquor all to himself." 
 
 "Ye can git both, at McGinnis 's wickiup," said 
 another of the crowd. 
 
 "Thank you, sir. I'll go to it," said the new- 
 comer, genially. 
 
 The young man crossed the street, followed by the 
 gaze of the party of loiterers, and entered the Min- 
 ers ' Best. 
 
 "A real feller, that, an' he looks like a game-cock, 
 all right, ' ' remarked one man. "Look at them shoul- 
 ders, boys ! I'll bet he's got a punch in either hand." 
 
 "Which don't get him nothin' in these diggin's," 
 snapped a grizzled old-timer whom the town knew 
 as Dixie, his real patronymic being a mystery, and 
 his native heath, according to his own statements, 
 being the grand old state of Kentucky.
 
 364 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Little ole Mister Colt has brung all kinds o ' shoul- 
 ders down ter the same size, in this neck o' the 
 woods," he growled, "an' speakin' o' punches, a .44 
 rags the bush. It's safe to bet that that feller's 
 
 one o' them d d college dudes. It's ten dollars 
 
 to two bits that he smokes cigaroots." 
 
 "Well, all the same, he looks good to me," insist- 
 ed the first speaker." 
 
 "Maybe he won't look so good after he's been 
 broke in," sneered Dixie. 
 
 "So? S'pose you appint yerself a committee o' 
 one ter break him in, ' ' retorted the other. 
 
 "All right, pardner, I got ye," said Dixie, grimly, 
 "I'm appinted right now, an' here's my badge." 
 He significantly tapped his revolver butt. 
 
 "Better go slow, old hoss," warned another of 
 the crowd. "Some tenderfoot's a goin' ter give ye 
 a s 'prise party, one o' these fine days. 
 
 "P'raps," growled the Kentuckian, truculently, 
 "but I've got a perfectly good hunch that that par- 
 tic 'lar tenderfoot hain't struck this town yet not by 
 a great big damn sight." 
 
 The stranger entered the door of the hotel and 
 glanced curiously about him. Inexperienced as he 
 was in the ways of the far west, the combined office 
 and bar-room of the Miner's Rest was to him a novel 
 and most interesting spectacle. 
 
 A cheap, unplastered interior, ceiled with rough, 
 matched boards. At one side of the room was a 
 long pine bar. Behind the bar was the usual cheap 
 mirror seen in saloons of the less pretentious sort, 
 backing a shelf decorated with bottles, glasses and 
 tumblers, the thickness of which suggested that dur- 
 ability in times of stress and riotous disorder, rather 
 than artistic form and construction, was their most
 
 THE ABGONAUT 365 
 
 useful quality. In a conspicuous position on the 
 mirror was a placard reading, NO TICK. Above 
 the glass in plain sight hung a repeating rifle. On 
 the shelf below it lay a huge revolver. 
 
 The display of weapons was not as ingenuous as 
 it seemed, for within easy reach on a narrow shelf 
 beneath the bar, was another six-shooter. This ar- 
 rangement was a most convenient one, as it enabled 
 the man behind the bar to surprise a disorderly 
 customer, who was likely to fix his attention upon 
 the openly-displayed arsenal, thus leaving himself 
 open to the persuasive argument of the unexpected 
 gun. 
 
 On the opposite side of the room, separated by a 
 large screen from the bar-room proper, was a small 
 counter, behind which was painted in rude letters 
 the inscription, OFFICE. Just above this sign was 
 a framed embroidered motto, GOD BLESS OUR 
 HOME. 
 
 Near the "office" desk in the corner of the room 
 was a stairway, leading to the upper part of the 
 house. Beneath the stairs, in one corner of the 
 office, was a crude, rusty iron safe of medium size. 
 Both the office and the bar-room were accessible from 
 the street by a double store door, so arranged that 
 persons entering the hotel could take their choice 
 of sides of the screen. 
 
 The floor of the bar-room was thickly covered 
 with saw-dust and ornamented with wooden, saw- 
 dust-filled "spit-boxes," in multiplicity and great 
 variety of form. 
 
 The walls of the bar-room weite covered with 
 cheap, gaudy prints portraits of actresses and race- 
 horses and pictures of prize-fights. On the walls of
 
 366 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the office were several biblical scenes and highly- 
 colored landscape chromos. 
 
 The entire place was lighted with enormous coal- 
 oil lamps, the chimneys of which were much the 
 worse for soot and sundry cracks and nicks. 
 
 Scattered about the room were a number of plain 
 wooden tables, flanked by stout, clumsy chairs. In 
 the office stood an old-fashioned what-not, center 
 table, and a horsehair-covered sofa and chairs. 
 
 The palpable effort that had been made to draw 
 an ethical, moral and artistic dead-line between the 
 "booze-parlor" and the hotel feature of the estab- 
 lishment was so comical that the stranger very near- 
 ly laughed outright. 
 
 Standing at the bar were a number of the young 
 man's fellow-passengers, whom a large, perspiring, 
 red-faced man of perhaps fifty years of age, in his 
 shirt sleeves, assisted by a burly negro, as black as 
 anything Africa ever produced, was endeavoring to 
 serve with beverages. 
 
 The stranger was about to enter the bar-room, 
 but noting that the two men behind the bar were 
 having considerable trouble in handling the rush, had 
 concluded to wait until there was a lull in business 
 before negotiating for accommodations with the red- 
 faced party who manifestly was the proprietor of 
 the hostelry when a muscular, strenuous-looking 
 middle-aged woman came down the stairs and bustled 
 into the office in a business-like way which suggested 
 that she decidedly "belonged." 
 
 The young man approached the desk and doffing 
 his hat said politely: 
 
 "You are the proprietress of the hotel, I pre- 
 sume. ' '
 
 THE ARGONAUT 367 
 
 The woman looked at him for a second before 
 replying. 
 
 "I'm Mrs. McGinnis, an' I'm nmnin' this hotel, 
 if that's pfwat yez mane." 
 
 "That is precisely what I mean, madam," he re- 
 plied, amusedly. 
 
 "Then for pfwy don't yez say so in plain Eng- 
 lish?" 
 
 "Pardon me, madam, I'm a foreigner from the 
 east, and I haven't been here long enough to learn 
 the language." 
 
 The woman burst out laughing. 
 
 "I guess ye 'II do, all right, Misther. Pfwat can 
 I do fer yez?" 
 
 The stranger courteously made known his desire 
 for accommodations and Mrs. McGinnis pushed to- 
 ward him a battered, time-worn register, in which 
 he inscribed the name, "Robert Parker." 
 
 "Where's yer baggage, Misther Parker?" in- 
 quired the hostess. 
 
 "It still is on the stage, madam." 
 
 "Well, son, as soon as that lazy nayger, Sam, gits 
 a breathin' spell, I'll have him fetch it up fer yez." 
 
 She went to the bottom of the stairs and called : 
 
 "Ellen, dear!" 
 
 "Yes, mother," answered a sweet voice from 
 above, and a pretty, apple-cheeked lass of sixteen 
 or thereabouts, came tripping down the stairs. 
 
 "This is me daughther, Ellen, Misther Parker." 
 
 Parker bowed and smiled an acknowledgment of 
 the introduction. The girl curtsied and blushed 
 most charmingly. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis took a key from the rack. 
 
 "Ellen '11 be afther showin' ye to yer room, sorr."
 
 368 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 She look admiringly after the stranger as he fol- 
 lowed her daughter upstairs. 
 
 "A foine young feller, that," she said to herself, 
 "and," she chuckled, "he's nobody's fool, if inny- 
 body should ask ye. He'll be afther learnin' the 
 ways o' this town pretty quick, I'm thinkin', an' 
 this house sure is the place to learn 'em. ' ' 
 
 The girl conducted the new guest to his room and 
 after naively instructing him in the matter of the 
 hours for meals, with especial emphasis on the time 
 when the rising bell was rung of mornings, disap- 
 peared. 
 
 The young man proceeded to remove the stains of 
 dust and travel from his person, sighing the while 
 for the cold tub of the effete east. Hardly had he 
 completed his toilet when the supper bell rang. As 
 he was voraciously hungry the sound was sweet 
 music to his ears. 
 
 At the supper table Parker found a motley collec- 
 tion of the population of Deadwood, and a number 
 of his stage-companions. These latter greeted him 
 cordially. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis introduced the new boarders to 
 McGinnis, who in turn gave each of them an intro- 
 duction to the old boarders collectively. 
 
 Save Mrs. McGinnis and her daughter, the only 
 member of the fair sex at the table was a prim, 
 bespectacled woman of attenuated proportions and 
 uncertain age. This austere and unprepossessing 
 person was a Yankee schoolma 'am, from Boston or 
 thereabouts. For only two months had she been 
 teaching the Deadwood young idea to shoot, and al- 
 ready having discovered that the Black Hills' idea 
 had rather too much "shoot" in it, had resigned her
 
 THE ARGONAUT 369 
 
 job and was preparing to return to the land of beans, 
 brains and Bunker Hill. 
 
 Not even the scarcity of respectable women in 
 the town had impelled anyone of the male sex to 
 tempt the lady to remain permanently in Deadwopd. 
 Her face was at once a defense and a stumbling 
 block in her way through life. Her disposition evi- 
 dently had fermented into acid in her youth, and 
 she ever since had taken herself and the world so 
 seriously that the acidity had become chronic. 
 
 Noting the rough appearance of most of the guests, 
 the new boarder marveled at the decorum that pre- 
 vailed at the table. A longer acquaintance with the 
 McGinnises, and especially with the hostess, explained 
 this quite satisfactorily. Under the persuasive in- 
 fluence of Mrs. McGinnis's tongue and the prestige 
 of her husband's iron fists and ready gun, the atmos- 
 phere of the dining room was all that could have been 
 desired by the most fastidious. 
 
 The meal ended, Parker took a stroll about the 
 town. He never before had been in the far west, 
 and therefore was greatly interested in everything 
 that he saw. The newness and " hustle of the place es- 
 pecially impressed him. The men all wore a breezy, 
 devil-may-care expression and moved with a ''slap- 
 dash" air that always has characterized the inhabit- 
 ants of pioneer mining towns. Even the least pros- 
 perous-looking persons whom he met, appeared to 
 the young man to be imbued with the characteristic 
 spirit of the place. Many of the people were as 
 amusing as they were interesting. 
 
 The stranger noted that, as is usual in mining 
 communities, women were comparatively scarce. He 
 noticed, also, that the women of Deadwood comprised 
 only two classes the good and the bad. The defer-
 
 370 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ence shown by the men to the one, and the lack of 
 it exhibited toward the other, made the dividing line 
 easy to distinguish, as always has been the case 
 on the American frontier. 
 
 The vanguard of American civilization, unlike the 
 people of more pretentious communities, never 
 permitted any compromise in the classification of its 
 women. Woe to the man who did not understand 
 the principle underlying the arbitrary demarkation 
 between virtue and vice, and was rash enough to 
 cross the dead-line ! 
 
 There never was any argument when a virtuous 
 woman was insulted. The western pioneer carried 
 his lawyer in his holster, and the advocate never was 
 wordy, nor given to wasting time by mouthing tech- 
 nicalities. 
 
 The young man noted with special interest the 
 great number of saloons, in every one of which he 
 could see through the wide-open doors men sitting 
 at tables engaged in gambling. To an easterner 
 who did not understand the psychology of a peo- 
 ple who, remote from the diversions of older centers 
 of civilization, must of necessity seek relaxation as 
 best they might, the thirst of the pioneer for whiskey 
 and the popularity of gambling were incomprehen- 
 sible. 
 
 The new arrival came to understand later that 
 the pioneer spirit always is feverish and has an un- 
 derlying stratum of recklessness and an eagerness 
 for alliance with chance. The man who is willing 
 to stake his life in the game of fortune, is prone 
 to stake his substance on the turn of a card, especial- 
 ly when time weighs heavily on his hands. 
 
 Having completed his leisurely tour of the town,
 
 THE ABGONAUT 371 
 
 Parker sauntered back to the hotel and entered the 
 bar-room. 
 
 The room was filled with rough-looking men, most 
 of whom were miners. A number were lined up at 
 the bar; some were sitting at the tables, at nearly 
 all of which the game of poker was in progress. 
 Among those playing were several genteel-looking 
 persons who obviously were professional gamblers. 
 
 The majority of the men in the room wore belts 
 and holsters in which were guns of a caliber sug- 
 gesting that Deadwood already had organized an 
 Ancient and Honorable Artillery Company in imita- 
 tion of that center of all things worthy of imitation 
 Boston. 
 
 At one of the tables several of Parker's traveling 
 companions were sitting, contentedly sipping their 
 beer or drinking whisky and curiously surveying 
 the novel scene in the room. There was a vacant 
 chair at the table and, noticing Parker, one of the 
 men motioned to him to join them, an invitation 
 which he gladly accepted. 
 
 The young man ordered a bottle of soda, which 
 Sam, who was wildly flying about the room in a vain 
 effort to wait on everybody at once, served him with 
 an air of mingled pity and distrust. 
 
 In the crowd at the bar stood Dixie, a bit the 
 worse for numerous libations of " red-eye." In the 
 midst of a toast to everything and everybody, he 
 chanced to observe Parker, and in a hazy way re- 
 called the conversation with his friend regarding 
 the stranger on his arrival that afternoon. The min- 
 er abruptly set his glass of whisky down upon the bar 
 and unsteadily made his way to the table where the 
 new-comer was sitting. 
 
 Now, at bottom, Dixie really was a very good sort,
 
 372 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 but his fellow-miner practically had challenged his 
 courage that afternoon, and his whiskey-inflamed 
 imagination magnified the importance of the inci- 
 dent as soon as he caught sight of Parker. The 
 miner was not especially vindictive, but he felt that 
 his prestige was in danger, and this must be 
 maintained at any cost. He had a grievance against 
 the person who was responsible for the challenge and 
 proposed to vindicate his honor. 
 
 As the friend with whom he had discussed the 
 stranger was among the men at the bar, Dixie de- 
 cided that the time was propitious and the stage set- 
 ting perfect for the presentation of the one-act 
 drama : ' ' What 's the matter with Dixie ! ' ' 
 
 He looked contemptuously at the young man and 
 then at the partially emptied glass of soda standing 
 on the table in front of him, and turned to Sam, who 
 just then was passing with a tray of * ' empties. ' ' 
 
 "I shay, Sham, hie ye black rascal! Bring this 
 yere damned tenderfoot a bottle o ' milk with a hie ! 
 nipple on it, an' be sure it's hie! warm." 
 
 There was a roar all over the room at this sally. 
 
 Parker paid no attention to the miner's insulting 
 remarks, but raised his glass and quietly sipped its 
 contents. 
 
 The room suddenly grew hushed, as though every- 
 body expected something interesting to happen. The 
 crowd tensely observed the scene and awaited the 
 entertainment which experience had taught them 
 was sure to come. 
 
 "Tryin' ter hie! -commit suicide with that stuff, 
 are ye?" sneered Dixie. "Well, ye hie! can't do 
 it around these diggin's!" and he knocked the glass 
 out of the stranger's hand, the remnants of soda 
 splashing in the young man's face.
 
 THE ABGONAUT 373 
 
 Parker instinctively comprehended that he was 
 confronted with a crucial situation, and that upon 
 his action would depend whether or not the town 
 would extend to him the right hand of fellowship. 
 
 "My friend," he said, calmly, "you're drunk, but 
 not too drunk to kno\V what you're doing. I want 
 you to apologize for that insult and do it in a hur- 
 ry." 
 
 The miner howled in derision, and drew back his 
 fist as if to strike him. 
 
 Dixie never knew exactly what happened, but the 
 wise ones in the crowd subsequently told him that the 
 stranger gave him a short-arm jab to the jaw that 
 was a "peach." They also expressed the belief 
 that if Parker could be induced to give lessons in 
 man-handling to everybody in town, there 'd be a 
 slump in the gun market. Later, Dixie himself hum- 
 orously asserted that, until McGinnis assured him 
 to the contrary, he suspected that Parker had 
 wrenched a leg off the table and "soaked" him with 
 it. 
 
 Dixie went down in a heap, and as he fell, the 
 young man snatched the miner's gun from its holster 
 and tossed the weapon to McGinnis, who, too late 
 to be of service, had rushed from behind the bar to 
 quell the disturbance. 
 
 McGinnis looked in open-mouthed astonishment 
 from the gun to Parker and from Parker to the gun. 
 
 ' ' Well, pf wat the divil V ' he sputtered. The crazy 
 omadhaun ain't got nary a gun on him, an' he hands 
 me this wan!" 
 
 Parker rose to the occasion, and before any of 
 Dixie's friends had recovered from their astonish- 
 ment sufficiently to interfere, he mounted a chair and 
 waved his hand for attention. The men had begun
 
 374 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 to surge threateningly towards him, but suddenly 
 stopped as though dumbfounded by his assurance. 
 
 The fallen miner rounded to, and sat stupidly 
 blinking at the scene and wondering where all the 
 new stars he saw twinkling in the firmament had 
 come from. 
 
 McGinnis, now speechlessly bewildered, with Dix- 
 ie's gun still in his hand, stood gazing at the unusual 
 scene as though he could not believe the evidence of 
 his senses. 
 
 "I just want to say a word to you, boys," said 
 Parker, calmly, "I'm a stranger among you, but 
 I'm here with the intention of staying and taking 
 my chances along with the rest of you, on equal 
 terms if I can. I 'm very sorry to have had anything 
 disagreeable happen, for I want you all for friends, 
 not enemies. The little disturbance that occurred 
 just now, was not of my seeking, and I tried to 
 avoid it, as you saw, but our friend here was de- 
 termined to compel me to defend myself. Now, I 
 can't accommodate everyone in this room with a 
 fight, although if you insist on it I'll dp the best I 
 can and, as somebody is bound to be disappointed, 
 suppose we call it a day's work and shake hands 
 all around. You fellows look to me like men who 
 want to play fair, and I'll bet that the gentleman 
 on the floor is a mighty good fellow when he's not 
 in liquor. My name's Bob Parker, and I want to 
 be a citizen of Deadwood and help you dig the bowels 
 out of these old hills about here. Come, boys, what 
 do you say?" 
 
 A rousing cheer greeted the young man as he 
 concluded his speech. 
 
 Dixie now was pretty well over the effects of
 
 THE ARGONAUT 375 
 
 the blow and fairly sober. As he was shakily rising 
 to his feet, Parker jumped down from his chair 
 and assisted him to rise. 
 
 The miner was furious, and his hand instinctively 
 went to his holster. 
 
 " Where's my gun?" he raged. 
 
 "Here it is, Jack," said McGinnis, presenting the 
 weapon but keeping a tight hold of it. 
 
 "What in hell are you doin' with my gun, Joe 
 McGinnis?" 
 
 "Sure, an' Misther Parker gave it to me," chuck- 
 led McGinnis. He was afraid you'd be afther hurtin' 
 yerself wid it. Yez might ha' fell on it, an' Misther 
 Parker is that tinder-hearted he couldn't stand the 
 thoughts o' that." 
 
 Dixie was dumbfounded, and blinked dazedly first 
 at Parker and then at McGinnis. 
 
 "D'ye mean ter ter tell me, Joe, that that feller 
 give ye my gun?" 
 
 "Sure, Dixie, old boy, just to hold fer yez," 
 grinned McGinnis. 
 
 Parker offered his hand to the miner. 
 
 1 ' Come, Dixie, old man, be a good sport and shake 
 hands with me. We might as well be friends." 
 
 Dixie, now thoroughly sobered, stood irresolutely 
 for a moment gazing at his conqueror as he might at 
 a new species of animal. Then, moved by one of 
 those inexplicable impulses which sometimes sway 
 the roughest of men, he wrung the young man's 
 hand with a grip that almost made him wince. 
 
 "By G d! I will shake hands with ye, young 
 
 feller! Ye 're some good sport yerself, if anybody 
 should ask ye. ' ' 
 
 As the men shook hands the crowd cheered until
 
 376 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the rickety building fairly shivered. The miner 's en- 
 thusiastic friends then loudly inquired : 
 
 " What's the matter with Parker?" and, having 
 decided he was "all right," they proceeded vocif- 
 erously to analyze Dixie, with a similar result. 
 
 McGinnis now mounted a chair and invited every- 
 body to take a ' * tin-roof, ' ' otherwise known as * ' one 
 on the house," and everyone within the sound of his 
 voice, even several cautious parties who were cur- 
 iously peeping in at the street door and waiting for 
 the usual fireworks to begin, flocked to the bar. Good 
 fellowship was in the air, and Parker was even per- 
 mitted to indulge in another soda which complais- 
 ance on the part of the crowd possibly was a natur- 
 al sequence of Dixie's experience with the soft- 
 drinking stranger. 
 
 When Parker and Dixie separated that night, each 
 man realized that he had gained a friend who was 
 worth while. For his part, the young man intuitive- 
 ly felt that he had begun his career in Deadwood 
 under most favorable conditions. 
 
 After the rest of the men had gone, a stalwart, 
 bearded, fine-looking man of about thirty-five years 
 of age remained standing at the bar talking with 
 McGinnis. Parker said good-night to mine host 
 and was about to repair to his room, when McGinnis 
 called to him. 
 
 "Just a minute, Misther Parker. Here's a gintle- 
 man that wants to sphake to yez." 
 
 Parker approached the two men and McGinnis 
 said : 
 
 * ' Shake hands wid Misther Horton, Misther Par- 
 ker." 
 
 After the two had exchanged the usual perfunctory 
 greetings, McGinnis remarked:
 
 THE ARGONAUT 377 
 
 "Misther Horton is Sheriff o' Deadwood, sorr." 
 
 "Ah! I see," laughed Parker, "then I suppose 
 I am under arrest." 
 
 1 1 Hardly, ' ' grinned Horton, with a chuckle. * ' It 'a 
 too late to send fer help, an' ye might frisk my gun. 
 I just wanted to meet ye and tell ye what I think p ' 
 that little performance tonight. I came in just in 
 time to hear yer speech, an' the boys told me the 
 rest. That little piece o' work was 24 carats fine, 
 an ' don 't ye forget it. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, there wasn't much to it," replied the young 
 man, "I guess the fellows in this town are all right, 
 if one knows how to take them. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," retorted Horton, gravely, "but you didn't 
 know. You took a long chance." 
 
 "Well, anyway, I got away with it," said Parker, 
 smilingly. 
 
 "You sure did, an' if I know the signs, you're so 
 solid with the boys in this town that dynamite 
 couldn't jar ye." 
 
 "I'll be mighty glad if that proves to be true," 
 said Parker, seriously. "It looked for a few min- 
 utes to-night as though I had made a very bad start. " 
 
 "An' so it might have been," replied Horton, "if 
 ye hadn't been lucky. Ye never can tell what a 
 crowd '11 do when it gits started. If the notion strikes 
 'em ter be nasty an' make the wrong move, all hell 
 can't stop 'em. Some o' them 'all right' fellers, as 
 you call 'em, sometimes shoot first an' send regrets 
 an' flowers afterward." 
 
 "Come, byes," said McGinnis, "let's have wan 
 on the house. Yez can have some tay this toime, if 
 ye want it, an' there'll be no kick comin', Misther 
 Parker. I don't want ter sell ye inny whisky, inny-
 
 378 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 how," he chuckled. "If yez can punch the way ye 
 did the night on soda wather, pfwat the divil would 
 yez do on whiskey!" 
 
 The party laughed heartily at the Irishman's ap- 
 preciation of his new boarder's hitting ability. 
 
 "Here's to the soda punch," the sheriff said, 
 raising his glass. 
 
 The drinks having been stowed away, Horton 
 looked at his watch. 
 
 "Holy smoke! boys," he exclaimed, "it's some 
 past bed time. It's 2 g. m. Mr. Parker here, ought 
 ter be hittin' the hay an' gettin' the stage-ache out 
 o' his bones, an' the sheriff ought ter be settin' a 
 good example fer the citizens by gittin' home him- 
 self. Let's have a night-cap an' call it quittin' 
 time." 
 
 Parker laughingly begged off on the plea that he 
 feared drowning if he imbibed any more soda, and 
 Horton and McGinnis finished the spirituous cere- 
 mony alone. 
 
 As Horton bade the young man good night at the 
 door, he gave him a hearty hand-shake and said, 
 warmly: 
 
 "Drop in an' see me tomorrow, Mr. Parker, I 
 want ter know ye better. If ye don't mind me bein' 
 plain-spoken, I'll tell ye right now that I like yer 
 style, an' I've got a hunch that you an' me are goin' 
 to be pretty good friends." 
 
 "Thank you, sir," rejoined the other, laughingly. 
 "The 'hunch' is mutual, and I'm pretty certain that 
 with you and Dixie for a social starter, I'm not 
 going to be lonesome." 
 
 ' ' Eight ye are, ' ' chuckled Horton, " but I 'm d d 
 
 glad that ye didn't hand me the same kind of a
 
 THE AKGONAUT 379 
 
 card ye did t' Dixie. That jaw of his sure looked 
 some tumid. ' ' 
 
 "Honors are easy, sir. From the set of your 
 shoulders and the looks of that arsenal in your 
 holsters, I am inclined to be somewhat glad myself," 
 returned Parker gayly, as he ascended the stairs.
 
 CHAPTER XXIII 
 THE NEW SCHOOL-MA'AM 
 
 As Tom Horton had predicted, the exciting events 
 of Parker's first evening in Deadwood proved most 
 auspicious for the young man, and he became im- 
 mensely popular with his fellow-townsmen. 
 
 Dixie, who had served with such embarrassment 
 to himself as a self-appointed committee of one to 
 welcome the new arrival, became his staunchest ad- 
 mirer, while Horton and he became inseparables. 
 
 Parker found his new friend to be the salt of the 
 earth, honest to a fault and as big-hearted and 
 courageous as he was stalwart of frame. As Horton 
 was a bachelor, the two men found many opportun- 
 ities for close companionship and intimate commun- 
 ion, when the sheriff's official duties did not inter- 
 fere. On numerous occasions of emergency Horton 
 shared these duties with his friend by appointing 
 him his deputy, in which capacity he proved to be 
 as brave and reliably cool as was the sheriff him- 
 self. On one occasion when a number of men were 
 in jail awaiting trial for several killings that had 
 occurred in a fracas resulting from an attempt at 
 mine-jumping, Parker's assistance alone prevented 
 a wholesale lynching. 
 
 The young man finally left the Miners' Rest, much 
 to the regret of the McGinnis family, who had be- 
 come very fond of him, and took up his abode with
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 381 
 
 the sheriff at the latter 's official headquarters in a 
 little one-story building on the main street, some 
 distance from the center of the town. 
 
 Soon after his arrival, Parker procured a miner's 
 outfit, including the inevitable six-shooter and car- 
 tridge belt, and began his career as a gold-seeker. 
 He labored most industriously in the hills and tried 
 out prospect after prospect, without any reward 
 other than the bronzing of face and hardening of 
 muscles which at his age are the inevitable result 
 of a strenuous and clean out-of-door life. 
 
 He kept good hours, adhered to his temperate 
 habits and let gambling and all other vicious indul- 
 gences severely alone. He went about sufficiently 
 to keep on good terms with his fellow-townsmen 
 and, as he did not affect the airs of a moral example 
 or social "perfecto," his irreproachable personal 
 habits did not jar the free and easy sensibilities 
 of his Deadwood friends, nor lessen his popularity. 
 
 One pleasant evening about a month after the 
 young man's arrival in Deadwood, Parker and his 
 friend Tom were sitting in front of the sheriff's of- 
 fice, engaged in conversation on the subject of min- 
 ing. 
 
 The young miner was greatly discouraged by his 
 ill luck in prospecting, and his friend was endeavor- 
 ing to console him as best he could by relating the 
 experiences of a number of other miners who at first 
 also had bad luck in the Hills, but finally had struck 
 rich. 
 
 " There was a feller by the name o' Talbot, from 
 Buffalo, I think he said, although previous loca- 
 tions don't count fer much with us who dug around 
 these hills for six months without hittin' it off. He 
 didn't git enough color ter dazzle a mosquito's eye.
 
 382 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 He was poor as Job 's turkey when he struck town, an ' 
 ye'd better believe that, fer a while, he didn't git 
 any richer as he went along poverty and bad pros- 
 pects are twins in the diggings, ye know. He finally 
 reached a point where he was clean busted an ' walk- 
 in' on his uppers, when Billy Marshall, who ran the 
 old Empire saloon an' dance hall, come to the front 
 an' grub-staked the poor cuss. Well, inside o' two 
 months the feller struck it rich struck a prospect 
 that was gold from the grass roots. He sold out fer 
 a cool half million, and went back to the States ter 
 play gentleman. 
 
 "Have ye ever noticed a sign down the street, 
 'Miners' Bank o' Deadwood?' Well, that's the half 
 o' that five hundred thousand that Talbot left here 
 with the feller that grub-staked him. The bank 
 president's name is Marshall. The Hon. William 
 Marshall, if ye please 'Billy' don't go any more. 
 
 "Brace up, old man!" continued Horton, slap- 
 ping his disconsolate friend on the shoulder; "you'll 
 make a ten-strike yet, see if ye don't." 
 
 "Yes, that's all well enough," grumbled Parker, 
 moodily, "but I guess it takes brains to turn up the 
 color, and I 'm beginning to think that I 'm a bit shy 
 on that useful commodity." 
 
 Horton laughed vociferously. 
 
 "Brains! Brains! Sufferin' cats! Ye didn't 
 know Talbot. Brains! Huh! He didn't know 
 enough ter read his meal ticket. As for Bill Mar- 
 shall hell, man! if ye knew that chunk o' phoney 
 metal ye'd think it took a damned sight less brains 
 ter run a bank than it does ter make a fluke o ' min- 
 in." 
 
 "All right, Tom, but I'll bet that either of them
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 383 
 
 had more of the sort of brains that's necessary in 
 mining than I have." 
 
 "Oh, shut up, Bob ! Ye make me tired. If brains 
 an' education was all that's necessary in minin', 
 you'd have all the gold in the Black Hills dug, bagged 
 an' banked by now. Do as I tell ye, brace up an' 
 keep on a diggin'." 
 
 A sudden thought struck Horton. 
 
 "By the way, my boy, are yer funds runnin' low?" 
 
 "W why, no. What made you think they were, 
 Tom?" 
 
 "I just guessed it an' now I'm sure of it. Come 
 off, now!" Horton went on, as Parker was about to 
 protest. "Ye can't fool yer Uncle Dudley. Now, 
 Bob, you just quit yer worryin'. My salary an' 
 perquisites goes right along just the same, whether 
 you're striking' pay dirt or bum gravel, an' as I'm 
 the landlord o' this dump that you're a hangin' out 
 at, an' on good terms with the sheriff, ye needn't 
 be afraid o' bein' evicted fer non-payment o' board 
 an' room rent." 
 
 Parker was too much overcome by his friend's 
 generosity to answer. He could only grasp Tom's 
 hand in silent appreciation of his kindness. 
 
 "Hello!" exclaimed Horton, "there goes some- 
 thin' that Deadwood's goin' ter be mighty proud of, 
 if the whole blamed town don't carry it further an' 
 fall in love with her an' git ter fightin' over her." 
 
 Parker followed his friend 's gaze and saw a young 
 woman just emerging from the Miners' Eest. She 
 hesitated a moment at the door and then crossed the 
 street and entered the post-office. 
 
 "Evidently a strange lady. But why the ex- 
 citement, Tom?" queried Parker, listlessly.
 
 384 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Why, she's the new school-ma'am from the East. 
 Hain't ye heard about her?" 
 
 "No, can't say that I have. I haven't been around 
 much for three or four days, and haven't visited 
 the McGinnis's for at least a week. When did she 
 strike town?" 
 
 "Day before yesterday. Miss Vinegar-Face left 
 the next mornin' after the new teacher landed. 
 Couldn't stand the competition of a real, sure- 
 enough lady with a sweet smile, I guess." 
 
 Parker abstractedly took his knife from his pocket, 
 opened it and picking up a stick proceeded to whit- 
 tle aimlessly. 
 
 "So," said the young man, indifferently. "Who 
 is the paragon of brains, beauty and grace ? ' ' 
 
 "She's from some place in New York. Her name 
 is Weathers no, it's Weatherson." 
 
 Parker uttered an exclamation and sprang to his 
 feet. 
 
 "What's the matter, Bob?" 
 
 "Why I I cut my hand a little; that's all," re- 
 plied Parker, holding up the wounded member in 
 evidence. 
 
 Horton was so solicitous about the wounded hand 
 that he did not notice his friend's agitation, but 
 rushed into their quarters after something with 
 which to dress the wound. 
 
 "Good Lord! What a fool I am!" exclaimed 
 Parker, disgustedly, as he endeavored to stanch the 
 blood that was freely spouting from his wound, 
 which really was quite severe. 
 
 "How could it be she?" he muttered impatiently. 
 "What would she be doing here teaching school in 
 a mining town. I'd better see a doctor tomorrow 
 and have my head examined. Incidentally, I'd bet-
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 385 
 
 ter get some dope for first aid to the nervous, if 
 I'm going to jump like a frightened alley-cat every 
 time anything stirs me up." 
 
 When Horton returned with a crude bandage, his 
 friend had regained command of himself and was 
 calm and self-contained. 
 
 "Kids like you hadn't oughter play with cuttin' 
 tools, Bob," grinned Horton, as he bandaged the 
 wound. 
 
 " Shouldn't wonder if you were right, Tom or 
 with fire, either," replied Parker, gravely. 
 
 Just as he finished his primitive surgical min- 
 istrations, Horton saw the school-ma'am emerge 
 from the postoffice and come leisurely down the 
 street directly toward the two men. 
 
 "Great snakes! Here she comes, Bob! I'll give 
 ye a knockdown." 
 
 "What! another?" said Bob, enigmatically. 
 
 Tom gazed at his friend in a puzzled fashion for 
 a moment. 
 
 "No, not another. Ye must have dreamed about 
 the first time. Anyhow, here she is a comin', head on 
 an' all sails set. Ain't she sixteen dollars to the 
 ounce eh?" 
 
 Parker earnestly studied the young woman as 
 she approached, and long before she came within 
 speaking distance recognized her as one whom he 
 had known under circumstances which he had tried 
 hard to forget. She had been one of the principals in 
 a certain scene in his drama of life, which he had 
 endeavored to bury so deep in the waters of Lethe 
 that it never could return to haunt his memory. Not 
 only had he tried to forget the scene, but also the 
 actors. A.nd he almost had succeeded in forgetting. 
 The old life had become like an awful dream, the
 
 386 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 memory of which time had toned down into a dim, 
 chaotic impression that bade fair to fade away al- 
 together, ere long. But now ! 
 
 1 'Why did she ever come here?" he thought. "How 
 did it happen? Great God ! Suppose she should rec- 
 ognize me! " 
 
 He mechanically put his hand to his face, which 
 now was covered with a luxuriantly heavy beard. 
 
 "Pshaw! What am I afraid of?" he reflected; 
 "she wouldn't know me in a thousand years. Why 
 should she remember a " 
 
 1 ' Good evening, Mr. Horton, ' ' said the young wo- 
 man, bestowing on the sheriff a dazzling smile that 
 set the honest fellow's susceptible heart thumping 
 like a steam hammer. 
 
 Parker removed his hat. 
 
 "Good evenin', ma'am," replied Horton, awk- 
 wardly. 
 
 Noticing Parker's hat in his hand, the sheriff 
 suddenly remembered the proprieties and snatched 
 off his own as if he were angry at it, an appearance 
 which he made plainer by fumbling the head-piece 
 and dropping it on the sidewalk. 
 
 Parker picked up the hat and handed it to Horton, 
 saying, in a mischievous aside : 
 
 "I told you that hat was too small for you, Tom 
 but why throw it at the lady?" 
 
 The sheriff glared savagely at his friend for a 
 second and then, with eyes twinkling at the humor 
 of the situation, said: 
 
 "I just hate to db it, ma'am, but I've got ter 
 introduce ye ter my partner here. This is Mister 
 Parker, Miss Weatherson. Ye just noticed, ma'am, 
 that he can handle his hat mighty genteel an' that's 
 about all for him.
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 387 
 
 The lady laughed merrily at the quaint intro- 
 duction. 
 
 11 I am very glad to meet you, Mr. Parker," she 
 said, cordially. 
 
 As he clasped the young woman's hand in his 
 own, Parker was so overcome by emotion that he 
 was almost as awkward with embarrassment as was 
 Horton. 
 
 "I I am delighted to meet you, Miss Weatherson, 
 and and I am glad to know that the school is going 
 to be in such good hands. I I hope you'll stick, 
 Miss." 
 
 "So, Mr. Horton has told you that I am the new 
 school mistress, has he? Well, Mr. Parker, I've just 
 got to stick. It's bread and butter with me. Not 
 only do I hope that the people here will like me, but 
 I am going to make them like me." 
 
 "And we'll help ter make 'em like her, won't we, 
 Bob?" interposed Horton, gallantly. 
 
 "We surely will, Tom," and Parker, his equipoise 
 regained, smiled indulgently at his friend. 
 
 ^But possibly we are interfering with your walk, 
 Miss Weatherson," he ventured. 
 
 "Oh, no," she protested, "it is growing dark and 
 I am going to return to the hotel. I should have 
 started earlier for my constitutional. ' ' 
 
 After a few moments ' desultory conversation, the 
 young woman bade the two men good evening and 
 departed. 
 
 /'Go along with her, you chump!" said Parker, 
 giving his friend a shove in the direction she had 
 taken. 
 
 Horton rose to the occasion and rushed after the 
 school mistress. 
 
 "I just just happened to think," he said, "that
 
 388 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 I was goin' down ter McGinnis's an' an' if if yer 
 don't mind, I'll" 
 
 1 'I shall be very glad of your company, Mr. Hor- 
 ton, if," she laughed, " people will not think I'm 
 under arrest." 
 
 "No fear o' that, Miss Weatherson. Anyhow, if 
 they do, they'll not think it out loud." 
 
 The young woman glanced at his determined face 
 and massive shoulders and at the guns in his belt 
 and concluded that when Tom Horton chose to do 
 other persons' thinking for them, he probably did 
 it most effectually. 
 
 Parker sat for several minutes dejectedly looking 
 after the couple as they strolled down the street. 
 Suddenly rising to his feet he struck himself a vio- 
 lent blow on the chest with his clenched fist. 
 
 "Was there ever such an unfortunate fool as I 
 am?" he exclaimed in fierce self-reproach. "An ex- 
 ile ! aye, worse, an outcast ! penniless, with nothing 
 in the future except what I can hammer out by 
 drudgery unless I strike pay-dirt in these hills 
 and here I am taking up the old dream just where I 
 left it, back there in " 
 
 As he turned again and looked down the street 
 towards town, he shuddered at the recollection. 
 
 Miss Weatherson was just bidding Horton adieu 
 at the door of the hotel. A moment later Parker 
 saw his friend saunter across the street and enter 
 the postoffice. 
 
 "Dear, susceptible old Tom!" he said to himself, 
 "I wish you luck, my boy, but I fear there are 
 breakers ahead, unless Miss Weatherson adopts the 
 western idea of manhood and forgets her eastern 
 associations and culture. Grammar doesn't make 
 the man, but I'm mightily afraid that it counts too
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 389 
 
 much with her order for your peace of mind, if 
 things go as I suspect they will. 
 
 "Well, I'm out of it, for good and all," he sighed, 
 "and I'll do the best I can to aid you, my faithful 
 friend. With the exception of Jack Halloran, you're 
 the best fellow I ever knew, and if I can help that 
 lovely girl see through your outer crust and ap- 
 preciate the real man beneath, I'm going to do it." 
 
 Parker entered the cabin, hunted up his pipe and 
 tobacco pouch and when the sheriff returned an hour 
 later he found his friend sitting in the front office 
 with his chair tipped back against the wall and his 
 hat pulled over his eyes, puffing away like mad at 
 his pipe. 
 
 The two sat quietly smoking for a long time, with- 
 out speaking. Parker was first to break the silence. 
 
 "See here, Tom, you're coming on. You'll be 
 quite a ladies' man, before you get through." 
 
 "Oh, hell! Bob, stop yer kiddin'. I've got a fine 
 chance ter be a ladies' man, I don't guess." 
 
 "Well, don't fret about your standing with the 
 ladies in general, if you can pull it off right with the 
 particular one. ' ' 
 
 Horton turned and looked squarely at his friend. 
 
 "Just tip up the brim o' that hat, Bob, an' let me 
 see which way ye 're lookin'. I want ter know how 
 much josh there is in yer conversation as we mosey 
 along." 
 
 Parker laughed and shoved his hat to the back of 
 his head. 
 
 "There, how's that, Tom?" 
 
 ' ' That 's better, my boy. You was sayin ' t " 
 
 "I was saying that you needn't worry about the 
 favor of the ladies so long as you make a hit with 
 the lady."
 
 390 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Meanin, by that, Miss Weatherson, I s'pose." 
 
 "Yes, that's the idea, precisely." 
 
 Horton blew a huge whiff of smoke from his lips 
 and fussed with his pipe for a moment before ans- 
 wering. 
 
 "Lookee here, Bob, ye don't think I've gone off 
 my nut entirely, do ye ?" he asked, moodily. 
 
 "Thought I saw symptoms, Tom." 
 
 "Say, partner, I hain't got much book learnin', 
 nor much much ' ' 
 
 "Culture, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, that's the dope; I hain't got much culture, 
 but I'm not quite a damned fool. Why, man, what 
 would a woman like that be doin' thinkin' of a 
 rough-neck like me? 
 
 "Symptoms! You talk about symptoms!" he 
 continued, hotly. "Yes, maybe there was a few 
 symptoms, but it took just fifteen minutes to cure 
 'em. Why, man, she talks like a book, an' knows 
 more'n any man in these diggin's barrin' yerself. 
 An' by the way, Bob Parker.!" he exclaimed, "I 
 suspect that you'd be just about the proper caper 
 for the little school-ma'am!" 
 
 "Forget it, Tom," replied Bob, with a forced 
 laugh; "I'm not a marrying man." 
 
 "Somebody back east, eh?" 
 
 "Yes, I well, I lost her, Tom." 
 
 " Oh ! Beg your pardon, Bob, I" 
 
 "No especial harm done, old man, only I'm trying 
 to forget, that's all. By the way, Tom," he con- 
 tinued, "don't be too sure about your stock being 
 low because your grammar is not up to the Harvard 
 standard. Women are funny creatures, and Miss 
 Weatherson may like you just because you are dif- 
 ferent from the grammatical eastern dudes."
 
 THE NEW SCHOOL MA'AM 391 
 
 Horton knocked the ashes from his pipe, rose to 
 his feet and entered their quarters. He turned at 
 the door and looked steadily at his friend for a 
 moment. 
 
 "Are you joshin' me, Bob?" he finally asked. 
 
 "Not a bit of it, my dear boy. The subject is too 
 serious for trifling." 
 
 ( An' ye really think I'd have a ghost of a show?" 
 
 n 
 
 "Yes, and better than a 'ghost'.'" 
 
 "Darned if I ain't got a sneakin' notion ter try 
 my luck, Bob." 
 
 "Well," rejoined Parker, "the worst that can 
 happen to you will be getting turned down. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, that's no dream that would be the * worst' 
 thing that could happen, ' ' said Horton, gloomily. 
 
 " So to it, anyway, Tom, and count on me for any- 
 thing I can do to help the game along. ' ' 
 
 "D'ye mean that, Bob Parker?" 
 
 "You can bet your bottom dollar I do, Tom," and 
 Parker extended his hand. 
 
 Horton silently shook his friend's hand until the 
 latter 's fingers were numb, then knocked the ashes 
 from his pipe and entered the office. Parker, sigh- 
 ing deeply, followed the sheriff 's example.
 
 CHAPTER XXIV 
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 
 
 Life in Deadwood had been decidedly humdrum 
 for weeks. There had been comparatively few new 
 arrivals in town and these were the commonplace 
 variety of fortune-seekers. Time was fast becoming 
 a deadly drag, and the old residents were beginning 
 to feel oppressed by the ennui which monotonous ev- 
 eryday events are wont to produce in such energetic 
 citizens as are found in new mining communities. 
 
 Widespread ennui usually was the forerunner of 
 a violent letting off of steam by the more exuberant 
 spirits among the populace, and some of the resi- 
 dents had begun to wonder what particular outbreak 
 was in prospect, when there arrived a stranger who 
 apparently was sent by kind Providence to relieve 
 the leaden dullness of the town. 
 
 The usual crowd was gathered at the Miners* Rest 
 one evening, in feverish quest of such diversion and 
 recreation as firewater and the game of draw-poker 
 afforded. McGinnis and his ebon-hued helper, Sam 
 Merritt, sometime boss of a Pullman car somewhere 
 east of the Mississippi, were having their habitually 
 strenuous time in meeting the demands of thirsty 
 patrons. 
 
 Dixie and three other men, two of whom evidently 
 were miners, the third being a professional gambler, 
 were sitting at one of the tables playing poker and
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 393 
 
 aiding McGinnis in his laudable efforts to reduce his 
 supply of fluids. 
 
 "I say, boys," said Dixie, " you'd oughter see what 
 bio wed in on the stage this afternoon. ' ' 
 
 "What was that, Dixie?" asked one of his com- 
 panions. 
 
 "A real, live Johnny Bull, sure as I'm a Kentuck- 
 ian." 
 
 "What's he like, Dixie?" inquired another. 
 
 "Say, pardner, don't ask me ter describe him to 
 an eyelash, fer I can't do the subjeck justice. He's 
 a tall, slab-sided, red-headed chap, dressed in a 
 Scotch cap an' a suit o' clothes that ye could play 
 checkers on. I heard them checks plain, when the 
 stage was a mile down the road. An' say, boys, 
 ye'd oughter see the pane o' glass in his eye. How 
 he keeps it screwed in is more'n I know." 
 
 " Where 'd he get steered to," queried the gambler. 
 
 "Well, I saw the feller a talkin' with Bill Harkins, 
 an' I guessed where he'd land, all right," said Dixie. 
 ' ' McGinnis has got him hid somewheres. How about 
 that, Mac?" he called. 
 
 "Pfwat's that, Dixie?" 
 
 "What did ye do with that English gent that 
 blowed in on the stage this afternoon ? ' ' 
 
 "Shtowed him away upstairs, begorra. Oi was 
 afraid some o' you divils 'd be afther nhtealin' 
 him." 
 
 "Which was some dirty deal on me, Mac. I saw 
 him first. Where is he now f ' ' 
 
 '"The lasht I saw o' the spalpeen, he was thryin' 
 to borry wan o' me ould woman's tubs, fer to take a 
 'bawth' in it," chuckled McGinnis. "Sh h! boys, 
 here he comes now, bedad ! ' ' 
 
 The appearance of the person who was slowly
 
 394 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 coming down the stairs and wonderingly sizing up 
 the strangely-assorted crowd in the bar-room, cor- 
 responded to a nicety with Dixie's description of 
 the new arrival, and spoke well for the accuracy of 
 the miner's faculty of observation. 
 
 The stranger landed at the bottom of the stairs, 
 crossed the office and entered the bar-room. Just 
 within the entrance he stopped short, readjusted his 
 be-ribboned monocle and calmly surveyed the as- 
 sembled citizens as though he were a naturalist 
 studying new fauna. 
 
 Dixie beckoned to Sam and when that worthy 
 answered the summons, industriously whispered in 
 the negro's capacious ear. 
 
 ' ' Suah ! I done got some, Mistah Dixie, ' ' grinned 
 the negro. 
 
 Sam rushed out of the room and returning threw 
 a handful of semi- round objects upon the floor. The 
 prunes, for such they proved to be, rolled about in 
 the damp sawdust and became incrusted so that they 
 were much larger than their natural size. 
 
 The negro now seized a huge broom and proceeded 
 industriously to sweep the floor, the prunes rolling 
 about in a most erratic fashion, gathering on the way 
 more sawdust, with a sprinkling of tobacco- juice 
 which inaccurate marksmen who had failed to hit 
 the spit-boxes had liberally contributed to the gen- 
 eral mussiness of the floor. 
 
 Sam took good care that his efforts at sweeping 
 took him directly towards the stranger, who stood 
 between the door and the vigorously wielded broom, 
 and perforce was compelled to get out of the negro 's 
 way. 
 
 The Englishman screwed the monocle more tight- 
 ly into his eye and curiously surveyed the floor
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 395 
 
 sweepings which Sam was rapidly propelling toward 
 the door. 
 
 Everybody, save Dixie and his party, openly sized 
 up the stranger. The four card players pretended to 
 be absorbed in their game, but surreptitiously 
 glanced from time to time at the odd-looking new- 
 comer. 
 
 "I'll raise you ten," said the gambler, after care- 
 fully studying his hand. 
 
 "I'll see that ten, an' go ye ten better," growled 
 Dixie. 
 
 The players again studied their cards, meanwhile 
 watching the stranger out of the corners of their 
 devilment-reflecting eyes. 
 
 The Englishman readjusted his monocle and 
 stooped to get a better view of the floor sweepings. 
 
 "My word!" he drawled, "What extraor'narily 
 large grapes you have in this country!" 
 
 * ' Grapes ! ' ' exclaimed Sam, * ' Grapes ! Why, dem 
 ain't grapes, boss. I'm s 'prised at yo' all! Dem's 
 eyes dat was gouged out here dis evenin'." 
 
 "Eyes? Why, me good man, how remarkable! 
 what!" 
 
 "Suah! Didn't yo' all hear de goin's on. My! 
 Sech carryin's on I nebbah did see befo'." 
 
 Sam grinned until his huge, white back teeth were 
 in evidence, and winked at the men who were stand- 
 ing at the bar interestedly surveying the scene. 
 
 "Yes, sah, an' de gemmen ober yondah, dey all sez 
 dat dey nebbah did see no sech a ruckus. ' ' 
 
 "Just listen ter the nigger a stringin' the tender- 
 foot," said one of Dixie's companions. 
 
 The party stopped its play and delightedly listened 
 to the dialogue between the Englishman and the 
 negro.
 
 396 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "How extraor'nary, really! An' do they operate 
 on eyes here often!" 
 
 "Dey done operates 'bout wonst a week, boss 
 jes' 'bout wonst a week. De gemmen in dis yer town 
 is de most playfullest dat I ebber seed since I done 
 'solved partnership wid Mistah George M. Pullman. 
 Dem gemmen on de kyars sho was de cap sheaf ob 
 all I ebber did see. Dey used ter shoot each udder 
 thoo de kyurtains ob dey all's berths, somethin' 
 scandalous. Berry keerless lot o' gemmen on dem 
 sleepin' kyars, sah." 
 
 The Englishman adjusted his monocle and slowly 
 looked Sam over. 
 
 "My word! I should think so, really." 
 
 "Now, what d'ye think o' that?" exclaimed one of 
 the crowd of miners. "Let's git up a rough-house 
 an' 'nitiate that sucker. Jim, go tip it off ter Dix- 
 ie." 
 
 The man addressed as "Jim" went to Dixie's 
 table and whispered in that worthy's ear, flirting 
 his thumb toward the Englishman. 
 
 "Great! Hot stuff!" exclaimed Dixie, "but be 
 damned careful where you pint them guns ! Some o ' 
 you fellers hadn't oughter be trusted with shootin' 
 irons, nowhow." 
 
 "Oh, don't worry, Disie," interposed the gambler, 
 who intuitively sensed the fun that was coming. 
 "Nothing will be hurt but the floor and the ceiling, 
 and McGinnis'll have to stand for that. It'll help 
 his trade along. This town has got one foot in the 
 grave anyhow, and needs something to wake it up. ' ' 
 
 Dixie left the table and joined the men at the bar. 
 
 "Hey, there, Johnny Bull!" he cried. 
 
 The Englishman turned toward the group at the
 
 INITIATING A TENDEEFOOT 397 
 
 bar, adjusted his eye-glass and calmly surveyed Dix- 
 ie from head to foot. 
 
 "W. Ponsonby Smithers, if you don't mind. An' 
 I'm not at all keen on that 'Johnny Bull' stuff, dont- 
 cher know." 
 
 "All right, Ponsy, old sox," replied Dixie, "we'll 
 let it go at that an' cut out the J. B. stuff. Come 
 an' have a drink." 
 
 Mr. Smithers evidently was not so sensitive in the 
 matter of convivial invitations as he was regarding 
 the taking of liberties with his dignity. 
 
 "Don't mind if I do, really." 
 
 As Smithers lined up with the miners, Dixie hit 
 him a resounding whack between the shoulders, 
 knocking the breath clean out of him, and exclaiming : 
 
 You 're all right, pard ! Ain 't he, boys I ' ' 
 . "Betcher life!" "He's the real thing!" "Noth- 
 in' to it ! " cried the miners in raucous and inharmon- 
 ious chorus. 
 
 Mr. Smithers replaced the monocle in his orbit, 
 it having been jarred out of its receptacle by Dixie's 
 warm greeting. 
 
 "How extraor'nary, really! So glad I'm fit, don't- 
 cher know. ' ' 
 
 "What '11 ye have, pard? Nominate yer pizen," 
 said Dixie. 
 
 "I'll have a bottle of Bass, if you don't mind." 
 
 "The hell ye say!" snorted McGinnis, resting 
 his big hands on the bar and leaning over it toward 
 the Englishman. "The fishin' season's over, me 
 laddie buck, an' begorra, ye '11 be afther takin' some 
 ould rye, I'm thinkin', unless yez want a scuttle o' 
 suds." 
 
 Smithers cynically inspected McGinnis 's huge 
 bulk through his monocle before replying.
 
 398 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Will I, really! But I'm no horse, don'tcher 
 know." 
 
 The crowd could not contain itself any longer, but 
 laughed and stamped its feet until the bottles and 
 glasses behind the bar actually danced. 
 
 Smithers looked bewildered, and Dixie came to 
 the rescue. 
 
 "Maybe you ain't a horse, Ponsy, but you're a 
 thoroughbred just the same. Ye see, 'rye' means 
 whiskey, the best stuff on earth fer tenderfeet 
 toughens 'em right up. " 
 
 "Quite so! rawther clevah idea, that!" ejac- 
 ulated Smithers. "Eye! Whiskey! Don't mind if 
 I do. I'll take it neat, bar-keeper, if you don't 
 mind." 
 
 "Will yez though?" growled the belligerent Mc- 
 Ginnis. "Begobs, ye '11 take it sthraight, Misther 
 Tinderfoot!" 
 
 Smithers made another deliberate monocular in- 
 spection of the landlord. 
 
 "Will I, really? how extraor 'nary ! " 
 
 Glasses were filled all around, the Englishman 
 taking a liberal portion of McGinnis's justly cele- 
 brated "red-eye." 
 
 "Well, here's how," said Dixie, and the crowd 
 clinked glasses. 
 
 ^ "Your very good health, gentlemen," responded 
 Smithers. 
 
 The liquor went sizzling on its gladsome way to- 
 ward the arid regions that lay concealed in the 
 anatomies of the miners. Smithers struggled man- 
 fully with his own dose of liquid fire and succeeded 
 in downing the major portion of it. He set his glass 
 upon the bar and gasped and strangled as if he had 
 inhaled the liquor instead of drinking it.
 
 INITIATING A TENDEEFOOT 399 
 
 "Very good name for your spirits, bar-keeper, 
 very good, indeed!" he sputtered, % when he had 
 caught his breath. ' * Me throat is twisted all awry ! ' ' 
 
 The crowd howled at the Englishman's pun, which 
 he perpetrated with an immobility of countenance 
 the ludicrousness of which redeemed the flatness of 
 his humor. 
 
 Dixie glanced across the room at the card-players 
 and surreptitiously nodded his head. 
 
 "What ye got, pard?" asked one of the players, 
 taking his cue. 
 
 "A king full," replied the gambler, laying his 
 hand down on the table. 
 
 The miner rose and yelled furiously. 
 
 "By God! You're cheatin'! You've been hand- 
 in ' me a cold deck ! ' ' 
 
 ' ' You 're a liar, damn you ! ' ' 
 
 The miner instantly drew a pistol, the gambler 
 grappled with him and the two went to the floor to- 
 gether, apparently fighting like a pair of belligerent 
 roosters, overturning the tables and several chairs, 
 and scattering cards, bottles and glasses in all di- 
 rections. As the men fell, the miner's pistol went 
 off, the bullet harmlessly imbedding itself in the 
 ceiling. The negro porter rushed up to Smithers, 
 who was coolly surveying the combat, and grasped 
 him by the arm. 
 
 ' ' Dar dey goes again, boss ! What 'd I tell you all ! 
 Hunt a hole, boss, hunt a hole! Bar's a sho 'miff 
 scrimmage comin' now, an' dey all gwine ter shoot 
 somethin ' promiskus ! ' ' 
 
 Smithers was cool and imperturbable, and Sam let 
 go of his arm and ran upstairs as if he feared for 
 his life. 
 
 A number of the men drew guns, and everybody
 
 400 TBUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 started for places of safety. Some dodged beneath 
 the tables ; others upset tables and got behind them ; 
 the greater number hid behind the bar. Those who 
 had pulled guns, peered out from their points of 
 vantage and fired shot after shot at the walls and 
 into the floor, pretending the while to be shooting 
 at anybody and everybody in sight. 
 
 Now Smithers obviously was not an excitable per- 
 son ; apparently, also, he was not a timid sort. The 
 boys at the Miners' Best that night were pretty 
 shrewd judges of human nature, but for once, they 
 had made an egregious mistake in sizing up their 
 man. 
 
 It is perhaps unfair to disappoint the reader of 
 this narrative, who naturally expects at this point 
 the revelation that Smithers was a British nobleman 
 in disguise, who was touring the west in search of 
 adventure, but truth compels the narrator to acknow- 
 ledge that his nobility was of the natural, not the 
 titular sort. He was just a plain British citizen, 
 the son of a moderately prosperous London trades- 
 man, who had invaded the West for purely com- 
 mercial reasons. 
 
 Underlying the Englishman's psychology, how- 
 ever, was the spirit that has characterized the Briton 
 the world over. It was this spirit that made Brad- 
 dock's men obey orders and stand in serried ranks 
 to be shot down by savages ; it conquered India ; it 
 planted the Union Jack of Old England on the heights 
 of Abraham ; it died at Balaklava and at Lucknow ; 
 many years later it stood at parade on the Eoyal 
 Victoria and went down with the ship; still later, 
 it obeyed fool orders, or waved a pitiful little tin 
 sword and gave orders, while the Mauser bullets of 
 the Boers were aiding the flower of the British army
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 401 
 
 to bravely and uselessly sacrifice their lives and 
 but yesterday it fired the souls of the gallant thous- 
 ands who fought against the Kaiser's hordes. 
 
 Had those American pioneers at the Miners ' Rest 
 reflected a little, they would have remembered that 
 the spirit of Old England underlay the reckless 
 bravery of many of them. But they did not remem- 
 ber this, and as Dixie sagely, if tritely, remarked, 
 they learned that night that "it ain't safe ter figure 
 out how far a cat kin jump by jest lookin' at it." 
 
 Smithers deliberately stepped to the center of 
 the room, planted his monocle firmly in place, and 
 drew from his pocket a small pearl-handled revol- 
 ver. 
 
 "How extraor'nary, really!" he drawled, as he 
 cocked his pistol and calmly looked about him in 
 search of a target. 
 
 "Here, you fellers!" cried Dixie, excitedly, from 
 behind his barricade of an overturned table, ' * dowse 
 the glim, somebody, quick! That damned tender- 
 foot 's comin ' into the game ! ' ' 
 
 "Ah! there you are!" exclaimed the tenderfoot, 
 deliberately firing at the miner. 
 
 Dixie promptly went back to cover, and amid a 
 fusillade of shots the lights went out, leaving the 
 place in total darkness. 
 
 Smithers did not seem to mind the interruption 
 caused by the shooting out of the lights, but popped 
 away until he had fired five more shots, and then con- 
 tinued snapping the pistol as if he thought its cham- 
 bers were inexhaustible. 
 
 Dixie carefully counted the petulant explosions 
 of the diminutive gun. 
 
 "Six! boys," he cried. "Guess the game's about
 
 402 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 played, unless he 's got another pop-gun. Light up, 
 Joe." 
 
 McGinnis produced several extra lamps and light- 
 ed them, disclosing the Englishman still standing 
 in the middle of the room, holding his smoking pis- 
 tol in one hand and fumbling after his dangling 
 monocle with the other. 
 
 "My word!" he drawled, "How extraor'nary, 
 really!" 
 
 At this moment Tom Horton appeared at the door 
 and took in the scene. He strode into the room and 
 glanced searchingly at the crowd. 
 
 "What in hell's goin' on here," he demanded, "a 
 Fourth o' July celebration?" 
 
 Smithers dawdled up to the sheriff and peered 
 at him inquiringly through his eye-glass. 
 
 "Ah, my good friend; do you happen by any 
 chawnce to have any spare ammunition about you?" 
 
 Everybody's face wore a broad grin. From be- 
 hind the table Dixie caught the sheriff's eye and 
 winked prodigiously. Horton comprehended and 
 had a tremendous battle with his own risibilities. 
 
 "Ammunition?" he snorted, with a comical glance 
 at the Englishman's pistol. "Nary a pea; just got 
 back from shootin' hummin' birds." 
 
 "It's all right boys; come out," he called to the 
 miners. "He's out o'-ca'tridges." 
 
 The men, guns in hand, cautiously emerged from 
 their hiding places, looking as sheepish as only 
 practical jokers on whom the tables have been turned 
 can look. 
 
 "Put up that cannon, Mr. whatever yer name is," 
 commanded the sheriff. 
 
 "W. Ponsonby Smithers, at your service, sir."
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 403 
 
 "Thanks, Mr. Smithers. As I was sayin', put up 
 yer cannon. The game 's over. Five minutes is the 
 limit." 
 
 "But," said Smithers, looking concernedly at his 
 revolver," it 's so blasted hot, don'tcher know, that 
 it might bally well burn me trousers." 
 
 "All right," laughed Horton, "cool her off, then." 
 
 Sam now stuck his woolly head over the balustrade 
 at the top of the stairway and surveyed the scene, 
 his eyes rolling as if he were frightened half to 
 death. 
 
 "Is dey all through wid dat promiskus gun-plav, 
 Mistah Sheriff?" 
 
 "All through, Sam. Come down an' count noses. 
 Line up there, ye damned lobsters!" 
 
 A number of the men stood in line and Sam pro- 
 ceeded to count them. 
 
 ' ' One, two, three, f o ' ' ' here he lapsed into a fit 
 of abstraction <;fo' 'leben fo'ty-fo' " 
 
 * ' Come out of it, ye black rascal ! ' ' cried Horton. 
 
 "Eh, oh yes," resumed Sam, dreamily, "five, six 
 come seven good 'leben " 
 
 The sheriff gave him a stiff punch in the ribs. 
 
 "See here, nigger, what d'ye think ye 're doin'; 
 shootin' craps?" 
 
 "Eh? Oh, 'scuse me, Mistah Sheriff," Sam ram- 
 bled on, "seben come 'long good seben why, dey's 
 one missin', Mistah Sheriff! Dat's what comes o' 
 dis yere promiskus shootin'!" 
 
 At this point the negro caught a glimpse of a hairy 
 face in the far corner of the room, peeking out of 
 the cellar, the trap door of which the miner was ten- 
 tatively raising with his head. 
 
 "So, dar yo is, Mistah Jim Brown! Climb out 
 o' dat cellar, an' come heah an' git yo'self counted."
 
 404 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The miner emerged from his underground refuge, 
 and lined up with the rest of the crowd. 
 
 1 Eight ! Done got 'em all, Mistah Sheriff ! ' ' snick- 
 ered Sam. 
 
 During, the business of checking up, Smithers 
 looked on in open-mouthed amazement, alternately 
 adjusting his monocle and gazing wonderingly at 
 his undersized gun. 
 
 "By Jove!" he exclaimed; "quite extraor'nary, 
 really! I'm sure I discharged me piece six times, 
 don'tcher know? I cawn't understand it, I really 
 cawn't!" 
 
 The crowd went into spasms at this naive state- 
 ment. 
 
 "Huh! It's damned lucky the lights went out, 
 Ponsy, old sox," chuckled Dixie, "you'd ha' busted 
 a tooth or peppered an eye for somebody, sure." 
 
 "The gentleman's score is entirely excusable," 
 interposed the sheriff. "He ain't used ter shootin' 
 in the dark, but I'm ashamed o' you fellers, an' 
 Smithers has got ye all beat fer sand." 
 
 "An' that's no dream, ye rascals," he added in 
 an aside. 
 
 "Put away yer guns, ye miserable duffers!" con- 
 tinued Horton. "You win, Mister Smithers. Let 
 me congratulate ye; you've got 'em all beat a city 
 block." 
 
 1 ' He sure has, ' ' yelled everybody in chorus. ' * We 
 knew he was all right!" 
 
 "How extraor'nary, really!" observed Smithers, 
 critically peering at the crowd through his eye- 
 piece. 
 
 Dixie whacked the Englishman on the back and 
 again knocked the breath out of him, sending his 
 monocle flying.
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 405 
 
 " You 're a dead game sport, old boy!" 
 
 Smithers regained his breath after a brief strug- 
 gle and recovered his eye-glass, which was dancing 
 at the end of its string. 
 
 "Am I, really? Thanks, awfully, old chap. An' 
 if I've won, I suppose it would be good form to ask 
 you all to have a drink, don 'tcher know. ' ' 
 
 Smithers repaired to the bar and everybody in 
 the room, except Sam, lined up two deep for the 
 libation. The negro stood in the middle of the 
 room, thirstily surveying the scene and rolling his 
 eyes in piteous entreaty at McGinnis, until the lat- 
 ter roared at him the gentle reminder that if he 
 did not assist in serving the crowd, a certain "nig- 
 ger's" head was "goin' ter be busted." 
 
 "Bar-keeper," said Smithers, "let's have a little 
 rye, all around. ' ' 
 
 When the glasses were filled, McGinnis took pity 
 on Sam, set out a bottle and glasses on the end of 
 the bar and called to the negro : 
 
 * ' Here, Sam, ye lazy scut ! Ye 're in on this wan. ' ' 
 
 Sam helped himself to a huge drink and was in 
 the act of pouring it down his parched, capacious 
 gullet, when McGinnis caught sight of the brimming 
 glass. 
 
 "Ye black swine!" he yelled, "d'ye want a towel 
 for that bath?" 
 
 "No, sah," chuckled Sam, "I dries out right 
 quick quicker dan mos' folks. I'se a warm baby, I 
 is." 
 
 The crowd laughed at the negro's retort, touched 
 glasses and drank. Sam tossed off his drink, 
 smacked his thick lips, wiped his mouth with the 
 back of a fat, black paw and went to work with a 
 will, washing glasses and putting the room to rights.
 
 406 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "What's the matter with Ponsy?" shouted a 
 miner. 
 
 "He's all right!" howled the crowd. 
 
 ' * Who 's all right ! ' ' cried somebody. 
 
 "Ponsy!" was the answering yell. 
 
 "Come on, boys," cried Dixie, "let's take our 
 new pard here ter the show. We might as well 
 finish the evenin ' right, while we 're about it. ' ' 
 
 The boys hustled for the door, followed by Dixie 
 and Smithers, who went out arm in arm. 
 
 Dixie turned at the door and called to Horton : 
 
 "Won't ye come along, Tom? We may need the 
 sheriff ter keep order." 
 
 "Thanks, no," retorted the sheriff, satirically, 
 1 ' you ain 't a goin ' t ' need me. You lobsters couldn 't 
 hit a flock o ' barns. But, ' ' he laughed, " I 'm mighty 
 glad that Mr. Smithers is out o' ammunition." 
 
 With his wonted calmness and deliberation, Smith- 
 ers fixed a monocled stare on Horton and looked him 
 over from top to toe. 
 
 "Most extraor'nary, really! Eawther odd sort o' 
 chap, that, don'tcher know." 
 
 As the strangely assorted pair disappeared, Hor- 
 ton and McGinnis fairly shrieked with merriment. 
 
 ' ' Don 't that beat ye, Joe ? " gasped Horton. < ' What 
 do ye think o' that for a tenderfoot?" 
 
 "Tinderfoot? Hell!" exploded McGinnis. "If 
 that Britisher iver learns ter handle a .44, Oi'll 
 back him agin th' whole town, bedad! Lord! if he 
 only had a little rale ould Irish blood in him ! ' ' 
 
 "He don't need any mixin' o' blood, Mac," said 
 Horton, gravely. "That kind o' tenderfoot has 
 made a whole lot o' hist'ry, an' they're makin' it 
 yet. Some feller wrote a poem once about a gang 
 o' the same kind o' suckers that went up against a
 
 INITIATING A TENDEEFOOT 407 
 
 lot o' big cannons, just because some damned fool 
 made a mistake an' give 'em the wrong orders. There 
 was six hundred of 'em went in, an' there wasn't a 
 corporal's guard come out. They was all shot ter 
 hell. 
 
 "I'm beginnin' ter understand that 'Bule Britan- 
 nia' business them Englishmen sings about, a little 
 better 'n I used ter," he went on, "an' say, Joe," he 
 chuckled, "that damned galoot hollered for more 
 ca'tridges! What d'ye think o' that? Wonder if 
 he'd like a job as dep'ty sheriff ?" 
 
 "Holy Saint Patrick!" shouted McGinnis, con- 
 vulsed with merriment, "he'd scare th' whole town 
 ter death, bedad!" 
 
 There was a rustle of skirts and Mrs. McGinnis 
 and Ellen appeared at the door. 
 
 "He'd have troubles of his own scarin' this party 
 that's comin', eh, Mac?" whispered the sheriff. 
 
 "Moses an' the prophets, Tom!" muttered Mc- 
 Ginnis, "here's where I git mine. She's got blood 
 in her oye. If Oi'd only got the place cleaned up a 
 bit before she got home ! ' ' 
 
 "Wait here a minute, darlin'," said Mrs. Mc- 
 Ginnis to her daughter. 
 
 The woman belligerently advanced toward the 
 two men, suspiciously sniffing the air and angrily 
 viewing the evidences of the recent rough-house, 
 which Sam had not yet had time to remove. 
 
 "Howdy, Sheriff?" she said, stiffly, and then 
 like an enraged Amazon confronted her husband. 
 
 "Pfwat's been goin' on here, Joe McGinnis?" 
 
 Mine host looked as if he had been caught with a 
 dead sheep over his shoulder. 
 
 W why nothin', Molly dear." 
 
 His wife again sniffed the smoke-laden air and
 
 408 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 glared about her at the awful disorder of the room. 
 
 "Nothin', eh?" she roared; "d'ye think Oi'm 
 blind, an' that me nose is par'lyzed? Where 'd all 
 the powder smoke come from, hey?" 
 
 "Run along upstairs, acushla," she called to her 
 daughter. 
 
 "Yes, mother," replied the girl, sympathetically 
 glancing at her father, upon whom, in spite of his 
 rough exterior, she really doted. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis shook a by no means delicate fist 
 menacingly under the stalwart Irishman's nose. 
 
 "So, thim dirty blackguards have been shootin' 
 up the place agin, eh?" 
 
 "Just a little sport the boys was havin', that's 
 all, ma'am," soothingly interposed Horton. 
 
 She turned upon the sheriff and blazed indig- 
 nantly : 
 
 1 ' Shport ! eh ? Shport ! It ain 't your put in, Tom 
 Horton. I'll tell yez wan thing, ye big loafer," she 
 raged, returning to the sheepish McGinnis, "if yez 
 can't keep this place respictable whin me back's 
 turned, I'll give ye a chance ter git another job !" 
 
 Sam was industriously polishing a tumbler and 
 trying to look composed. When the lady intimated 
 that she might fire McGinnis, in his trepidation he 
 dropped the glass to the floor, smashing it into 
 fragments that flew all over the room. The irate 
 woman furiously turned upon the negro. 
 
 "An' you, too, ye big, clumsy, black gorilla, ye!" 
 
 Sam was so awe-stricken that he could only stand 
 helplessly looking at her with his cavernous mouth 
 agape, rolling his eyes like a couple of enormous, 
 agitated marbles. 
 
 "Yis, Molly dear, but " McGinnis began, ca- 
 jolingly.
 
 INITIATING A TENDERFOOT 409 
 
 "Don't yez 'Molly dear' me agin, ye big shpal- 
 peen! That beloved husband business don't go with 
 me just renumber that. If yez had ter do some rale 
 wurruk f er a livin ' f er a little while, maybe ye 'd ap- 
 preciate the soft shnap ye've got." 
 
 A violent fit of coughing diverted the lady's at- 
 tention from her thoroughly cowed better-half. 
 
 "Sam, ye black thief o' the wurruld!" she cried, 
 as soon as she could speak, * * open all thim windows 
 an ' let that vile shmoke out. It 's that thick yez could 
 cut it with a knife. ' ' 
 
 The negro obeyed, meanwhile warily keeping an 
 eye on her as though he expected things to be thrown 
 at him. Having opened the windows, he quietly 
 sneaked out of the back door. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis now returned to the attack. 
 
 "Joe McGinnis, ye can tell that gang o' loafers 
 an' toughs that hangs out here iv'ry night, that here- 
 after they can buy their drinks an' git out. I'll 
 have no more o' that gun business, an' pfwat's more, 
 ye can tell 'em that if there's any more of it in this 
 place, I '11 take a hand mesilf with a mop shtick. ' ' 
 
 She turned a scornful eye on Horton : 
 
 "If the sheriff hain't got sand enough in his 
 craw to kape the loafers an' bums o' this town in 
 order / have. D'ye hear that Misther Tom Hor- 
 ton?" 
 
 With a final look of withering contempt at the 
 thoroughly subdued victims of her wrath, the boss 
 of the Miners' Best majestically stalked upstairs. 
 
 Horton ostentatiously lit his pipe and said nothing 
 for a space. 
 
 "It's a warm evenin', Mac," he finally observed 
 slyly, between puffs. 
 
 McGinnis produced a large red handkerchief, drew
 
 410 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 it across his perspiring brow and grinned in shame- 
 faced fashion. 
 
 "Thrue for you, Misther Horton," he agreed; "I 
 disremimber iver seein' any weather in th' Hills 
 that was quite so war rm."
 
 CHAPTEB XXV 
 
 LUCK STRIKES THE HOUSE OF 
 
 One sultry August afternoon, some weeks after 
 the lively reception tendered to Smithers by certain 
 playful citizens of Deadwood, Tom Horton had oc- 
 casion to visit the Miner's Eest in quest of informa- 
 tion as to the whereabouts of a party who, for ob- 
 vious reasons was not especially anxious to meet 
 the sheriff. 
 
 As the matter at issue was certain horses that 
 had been found to be illegally in the aforesaid party's 
 possession and had been identified as the property 
 of one of his fellow-townsmen, and the penalty for 
 horse stealing in the west having been amicably 
 agreed upon by honest men of all classes, the per- 
 son for whom the sheriff was seeking hardly could 
 be blamed for being somewhat coy and retiring. 
 He was the less blamable because the jail at Dead- 
 wood was a flimsy affair which offered inadequate 
 shelter from lynching parties. 
 
 It was not ''stage day" and the miners were still 
 at work, hence business was dull at McGinnis' ever- 
 popular bar. Only an occasional citizen who be- 
 longed to the limited class of the unemployed, 
 dropped in to quench a chronic dryness of the 
 throat, made more avid by the hot weather and 
 the idleness that always lead the victim of that
 
 412 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 particular form of thirst toward him of the suave 
 smile and white apron. 
 
 McGinnis stood behind the bar alternately wiping 
 the sweat from his perspiring, red face, and vigor- 
 ously cursing Sam, who was peacefully dozing in a 
 chair tipped back against the wall in a remote corner 
 of the room, his cavernous mouth wide open in a 
 fashion most enticing to the industrious swarms of 
 flies that were buzzing about, and his thick lips blub- 
 bering with his raucous breathing. 
 
 Nobody had been in for some time, and finding 
 that his peppery vocabulary had disturbed Sam not 
 in the least, McGinnis seated himself on a convenient 
 beer keg and followed the negro's philosophic ex- 
 ample. 
 
 Hardly had mine host dropped off into a doze 
 punctuated by snores that sounded like a blowing 
 hippopotamus, when he was aroused by the entrance 
 of one of those irresponsible bums who are the espec- 
 ial thorns in the sides of the presiding geniuses of all 
 well-regulated drink-parlors, the world over. 
 
 McGinnis half opened his eyes and glared malig- 
 nantly at the disreputable-looking disturber of his 
 peace and comfort who, with the besotted stupidity 
 of the alcoholic down-and-out, foolishly disregarded 
 the danger signal. 
 
 "Say, Mac," he whined, "blow a feller off ter 
 some nose-paint, won't ye? I hain't had a drink all 
 day, an' I'm burnin' up." 
 
 McGinnis slowly rose to his feet. There was a 
 tinge of joy in his resentment of the interruption of 
 his siesta. Here was an opportunity to get out of 
 his system the irritation produced by the annoy- 
 ances of the day, that the Irishman would not have
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 413 
 
 missed for the world. His black helper usually at- 
 tended to such cases, but this one ! 
 
 "Oi'd see yez in hell first!" he thundered, so 
 emphatically that Sam awoke with a start, his teeth 
 coming together with a loud snap which was quite 
 demoralizing to the flies, and blinked sleepily at 
 the subsequent proceedings. 
 
 1 1 Ah ! Have a heart, Mac. Just one finger, ' ' quav- 
 ered the bum. 
 
 "Oi've told yez twinty toimes that the shlate is 
 broke ! Git out o ' here, damn ye ! " 
 
 McGinnis was so eager to vent his spleen on who- 
 ever was handiest that he did not wait to see whether 
 the bum would obey orders or not, but grabbing the 
 fellow by the collar and the slack of his trousers, 
 hustled him to the open door and with a vigorous 
 application of a ponderous dexter foot, sent him 
 flying clear into the middle of the street, where with 
 a loud grunt he landed in a sitting position in the 
 ankle-deep dust and sat dazedly looking about him 
 as if he were not quite certain what had happened. 
 
 As his boss crumpled up the unfortunate bum and 
 threw him out of the door, Sam chuckled softly to 
 himself. 
 
 "De Irish troops done fit noble; dey sho'ly did!" 
 
 Having thus officially rendered his expert approv- 
 al of the manner in which his employer had attended 
 to the porter's duty, the negro peacefully resumed 
 his slumbers. 
 
 McGinnis surveyed with grim satisfaction the hu- 
 man wreckage he had so summarily ejected. 
 
 "There, ye scum o' the earth! How d'ye loike 
 the leather cocktail? Wan finger, eh? "Wan foot is 
 about your size, an' if ye come inter me place agin,
 
 414 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Oi'U thrun the boots inter yez right, an' don't ye 
 fergitit!" 
 
 Horton came up just as the belligerent but now se- 
 renely contented Irishman was ostentatiously dust- 
 ing his mighty hands, with a final glare at the luck- 
 less bum, who still was sitting in the street, stupidly 
 gazing at a group of passers-by that had gathered 
 on the opposite side of the way and evidently were 
 hugely enjoying the scene. 
 
 The sheriff at a glance comprehended what had 
 happened. He went to the social derelict and helped 
 him to his feet. 
 
 "Pull yer freight, my friend," said he, not un- 
 kindly, "an' keep away from this end o' town here- 
 after. It ain't good fer you." 
 
 "Funny, ain't it, boys? I don't think!" he re- 
 marked, sarcastically, turning to the group of laugh- 
 ing men. 
 
 He entered the hotel, followed by McGinnis who, 
 like the crowd in the street, was rather mystified by 
 the sheriff's remark. 
 
 "Lettin' off steam, eh, Mac?" inquired Horton, 
 when he and the Irishman had taken their orthodox 
 relative positions on opposite sides of the bar. 
 
 "Just a little, Misther Sheriff," grinned McGin- 
 nis. "That damned bum gits on me nerves, an' Oi 
 made up me moind ter settle him, this toime." 
 
 There was an odd light in Horton 's eyes as he re- 
 plied, reminiscently : 
 
 "I remember that pore devil, Yank Billings, when 
 he first struck this town that was before your day, 
 Joe. When he landed here, he looked just about th' 
 same as th' rest of us only a bit more ter the spruce. 
 He come from a farm, somewheres down in the little 
 old state o' Maine. Never saw much o' the world
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 415 
 
 till he left the old home, I reckon. Anyhow, I'll bet 
 he didn 't buck agin no faro banks or women an ' no 
 gin-mills, Joe, down at The Corners. He jest couldn't 
 face the music here in this place, that 's all. ' ' 
 
 McGinnis looked bewilderedly at the Sheriff, who 
 went on with his homily. 
 
 "Now, I ain't no philos'pher, an' I ain't had none 
 too much learnin,' Mac, but I've jest about concluded 
 that when the Almighty hands out the man-stuff to 
 us, He gives jest a little bit more stiff 'nin' ter some 
 fellers than he does ter others. I don't want ter 
 knock yer bizness, Joe, fer the hand that passes out 
 the booze helps ter feed fellers in my perfession, 
 but I'm thinkin' that p'raps it would ha' been 
 better fer Yank if ye'd ha' give him th' boot before 
 he got broke. I've noticed that with some folks a 
 booze-fighter ain't never a 'bum' till he's plumb bust- 
 ed." 
 
 Both the ironical shaft and the homely philosophy 
 that preceded it, went clear over McGinnis 's head. 
 
 "Thrue for you, Sheriff, an' begorra! as yez 
 caught me in th' act o' committin' assault an' bat- 
 tery" 
 
 "An' thro win' 'bums', Joe," interrupted Horton. 
 
 "Be the piper! that was a good wan, Misther Hor- 
 ton!" exclaimed McGinnis, admiringly. 
 
 "Thankee, Mac, ye was about ter remark " 
 
 "I was goin' ter say though not by way o' brib- 
 in' an' officer o' the law, sorr that wan on the house 
 was comin' t' yez." 
 
 "If it is a bribe, I'll stand for it, Joe. A little 
 dust-dissolve r jest the right dose, so that I won't 
 get full o' mud an' I'll acquit ye of all criminal 
 intent.'/ 
 
 McGinnis produced the requisite fluids and the
 
 416 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 two men duly irrigated their respective departments 
 of the interior. 
 
 Horton "bought" in turn, and the social ameni- 
 ties thus having been duly observed, he proceeded 
 to interrogate McGinnis as to his knowledge of the 
 whereabouts of the horse-thief. 
 
 "Begorra!" said McGinnis, cunningly, "Oi've 
 been hearin' a lot o' talk about Pete Sloan fer the 
 lasht wake. Some says wan thing, an' some says 
 another, but divil a bit o ' sense kin Oi make out of it 
 all." 
 
 "Oh, I see," replied the sheriff, dryly, " Which 
 means that you ain't lost no horses, eh, Mac!" 
 
 "Divil a wan, sorr, divil a wan." 
 
 "Nor yer nerve, either, Joe." 
 
 "Sorraabit, Tom." 
 
 "You're a damned good business man, McGinnis." 
 
 "D'ye think so, sorr? Oi'm glad to hear ye say 
 that, Misther Sheriff." 
 
 "Oh, it's comin' to ye, Mac." 
 
 "Thankee, sorr." 
 
 "By the way, Joe, Bill Harkins and Pete Sloan 
 are pretty good friends, ain't they?" 
 
 "Well, t' tell yez the truth, now, Misther Horton, 
 I couldn't say. Don't b'lieve that Bill iver said 
 innythin ' about Pete, but maybe he has at that, sorr ; 
 maybe he has. ' ' 
 
 Horton was too wise to question the wily and dis- 
 creet McGinnis any further. 
 
 "All right, Mac, we'll let it go at that. An' if ye 
 ever want a recommend as a diplermat, come ter 
 yours truly. ' ' 
 
 "Thankee, Sheriff, thankee," replied McGinnis, 
 gratefully, without in the least knowing what a dip- 
 lomat was.
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 417 
 
 "Yes, yer a diplermat, all right, Mac, but I'm a 
 goin' ter get that feller, Sloan, just the same." 
 
 "That'll bark no hide off'n my shins, Misther 
 Horton, yez kin jist bank on that." 
 
 "I've got ye, Joe. I know yer on the level, even 
 if ye don't talk as free as some folks. Eeckon yer 
 all right at that." 
 
 Horton, however, did not get the horse thief. A 
 party of cowboys caught the malefactor a few days 
 later and saved the sheriff a lot of bother. The ver- 
 dict of the coroner's jury ran something like this: 
 
 "Died from havin' too much air under his feet, 
 an' too little in his breathe-works. " 
 
 A woman's voice was heard at the door. Horton 
 suddenly jumped as if somebody had jabbed a pin 
 into him, but pulled himself together and with af- 
 fected indifference went to the cracker and cheese 
 box at the end of the bar, helped himself and 
 munched away as if he were not sure of getting his 
 supper and proposed to forestall a possible disap- 
 pointment in that direction. 
 
 McGinnis looked expectantly toward the door and 
 saw Miss Weatherson and Bob Parker enter and 
 pass behind the screen into the hotel office. 
 
 "It was very kind of you to see me home, Mr. 
 Parker, ' ' said the young woman, gratefully, offering 
 her hand. 
 
 . "Yes, I was good to one Bob Parker," he replied, 
 clasping the slim white fingers and gallantly bowing 
 over them. 
 
 "Be careful, now," she laughed, warningly, "this 
 is not the effete east, you know. ' ' 
 
 "For which I am duly thankful and because of 
 which I can be really sincere, Miss Weatherson."
 
 418 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Which remark was merely by way of emphasis, 
 of course, Mr. Parker." 
 
 "Certainly, and by way of leading up to a very 
 vital question. May I call tomorrow evening?" 
 
 "Mrs. McGinnis's stuffy parlor again!" she an- 
 swered, merrily. "Never! But I'll gladly compro- 
 mise with you. Call for me after school and escort 
 me home. My star pupil, Ellen, will chaperon us." 
 
 "Thank you," he laughed, "but not for the chap- 
 eron. ' ' 
 
 "Ah, but the chaperon is unavoidable," she re- 
 plied, archly. "Ellen has formally appointed her- 
 self to the office. She had just left me and run 
 on ahead when you caught up with me a while ago. ' ' 
 
 "The little lady didn't know I was coming, of 
 course." 
 
 "I am not quite sure as to that. Au revoir," and 
 the young woman tripped lightly up the stairs. 
 
 He followed her with ardent eyes until she dis- 
 appeared, then with a despondent sigh and a gesture 
 of self-depreciation walked slowly toward the en- 
 trance of the bar-room. 
 
 "Ye kin guess who's comin', Sheriff. I'll give 
 yez jist wan guess," chaffed McGinnis. 
 
 "I'm not good at guessin', Joe, an' my ears are 
 mighty bad," said Horton, adding in an aside which 
 escaped the Irishman, l ' sometimes thank God ! ' ' 
 
 As Parker entered the bar-room, Horton, gener- 
 ous fellow and sincere friend that he was, rushed to 
 meet him and grasped both his hands in his own. 
 
 "Well, Bob, I thought sure ye'd cut stick an' left 
 us f er good ! Where in blue blazes have ye been f er 
 the last three days?" 
 
 "As that distinguished member of the Sons of 
 Best over yonder would say," replied Parker, point-
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 419 
 
 ing at the sleeping negro, " 'I've jes' been projeck- 
 in' round a little.' " 
 
 "I should think ye had," said Horton, noting that 
 his friend wore a riding outfit and was covered with 
 dust. "Ye look like a picture of a feller on the high 
 road hit by a cyclone. When did ye git back?" 
 
 "I struck town about an hour ago. And how is 
 old Tom?" 
 
 "Fine as a cotton hat, Bob." 
 
 Parker turned to McGinnis. 
 
 "And how goes it with you, Mac?" 
 
 "Bully! Misther Parker bully !" 
 
 "And the Missus, Joe?" 
 
 "Foine, sorr, foine, barrin' a little spell o' dish- 
 position, now an' thin. She ain't niver quite got over 
 the last tinderfoot reciption, an' as she's took Mr. 
 Ponspnby Smithers under her wing, she hands me 
 wan ivry wonst in a while about us ignoramuses not 
 knowin' how to trate a rale gintleman at all, at all. 
 Not that she loikes the English bucko which she 
 don't so that yez could notice it, so yez needn't be 
 jealous, Misther Horton but he '11 do as well as inny 
 wan f er an excuse f er family ructions. ' ' 
 
 "And where do you come in, Tom?" queried Par- 
 ker. 
 
 "Oh, I've been doin' a thinkin' part, an' keepin' 
 away from this dump as much as I could. I got 
 enough o' Mrs. Mac's opinions o' yours truly, the 
 night o' the English tenderfoot's party, ter last me 
 fer a while." Horton snickered at the recollection. 
 
 "So I heard, Tom," smiled Parker; "that's what 
 a man who is supposed to officially uphold the law 
 gets for being an accessory to hazing a poor tender- 
 foot." 
 
 "I wasn't no 'accessory,' I was referee," chuckled
 
 420 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Horton. ' 'But say, Bob, the very looks o ' you makes 
 me dry. Doc McGinnis, let 's have some more o ' that 
 famous dust-dispeller o' yourn an' give this crazy 
 Indian some o' yer strongest soda water." 
 
 McGinnis produced the thirst-alleviators and the 
 two friends filled their glasses. 
 
 "Get in the game, Mac," invited Horton. 
 
 "Sure an' Oi don't mind if I do." 
 
 McGinnis poured a libation for himself, and the 
 liquid volley was fired by the party with due regard 
 to the traditional customs and etiquette of the bar 
 spirituous. 
 
 "What did ye dig up, Bob?" interrogated Horton. 
 "Ye was gone so long that I didn't know but ye'd 
 be comin ' back with the mother lode in yer pocket. ' ' 
 
 "Haven't struck dear old mamma yet, Tom, al- 
 though, as our mutual friend, Smithers, would say, 
 'I have me hopes.' But I made a pretty good bag 
 at that. Incidentally I proved that that fellow Ath- 
 erton is a skunk of the first odor. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, is he though?" asked Horton. "He never 
 did look good ter me, but I wondered if I wasn't 
 sufferin' from an attack o' sleuthitis. What's he 
 been doin', an' where, an' when, an' at what time 
 does the sheriff o' Deadwood take a hand?" 
 
 "It's not your play yet," responded Parker, "but 
 I guess you'd better stick around, at that. If this 
 town ever really discovers that fellow's true char- 
 acter, you may have to save one perfectly fine vil- 
 lain from being mussed up by an enraged populace. ' ' 
 
 "So, that's the lay, is it? Tell us about it, Bob." 
 
 "Hold your horses, Tom," said Parker. "We'll 
 let you have the road in a minute. By the way, 
 Mac," he asked, casually, "what did Atherton offer
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 421 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis for that prospect hole that she took 
 for Dixie's board bill!" 
 
 "Foive hundred an' it's highway robbery ter 
 take it, but that Nop Yarker's twinty-wan years old, 
 an' oughter have his eye teeth cut by this toime, so 
 Oi told th' ould woman ter take him up, begorra." 
 
 "So, you think it would be robbery to take his 
 five hundred, do you, Mac?" queried Parker, amus- 
 edly, finishing his soda and setting down his empty 
 glass. 
 
 "Oi sure do, an' pfwat the divil the ould woman 
 sint yez off on that wild goose chase fer, is more'n 
 the loikes o' me kin guess." 
 
 "Because she's got the brains o' the family, Joe," 
 put in Horton. 
 
 ' t Begorra, Sheriff ! Oi 'm thinkin ' yer right bar - 
 rin', av course, th' kid," laughed McGrinnis. 
 
 "But where is Mrs. McGinnis, Joe?" asked Par- 
 ker. 
 
 "She an' Ellen come in a little while ago an' they 
 both wint up-shtairs." 
 
 "Ask her to come down, Mac. I have some news 
 for her." 
 
 "Well," said McGinnis, doubtfully, "seein' it's 
 yerself, an' ye have somethin' partic'lar ter say to 
 her, Oi'll call her down, but it's on yer own responsi- 
 bility, Misther Parker, moind that, now. She 's been 
 a bit peevish lately, eh, Sheriff?" 
 
 "Just a little bit, Joe," chuckled Horton. 
 
 McGinnis went to the foot of the stairs and called : 
 
 "Molly dear." 
 
 "Huh!" Mrs. McGinnis acidly replied a moment 
 later from the head of the stairs. "It's 'Mollie 
 dearin' ' me ye are agin, eh? Pfwat divilment are 
 yez plannin' now, I wonder."
 
 422 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The Irishman dodged an imaginary missile, stepped 
 around the partition into the bar-room and said, in 
 a horse whisper : 
 
 ''The Lord help ye, Misther Parker, if ye hain't 
 got some good news f er the ould woman ! Oi know 
 th' symptoms, an' Oi'm afther thinkin' it's cloudin' 
 up." 
 
 Winking at Parker and Horton he again called to 
 the companion of his joys and dispenser of his trou- 
 bles: 
 
 "Misther Parker is back, Molly dear, an' he says 
 will yez plaze come down. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Sure, an ' is it Misther Parker that wants ter see 
 me? Av course Oi'll come down!" 
 
 The lady joyfully descended the stairs, the men 
 passing into the hotel office and meeting her just as 
 she was about to enter the bar-room. Pointedly ig- 
 noring Horton, Mrs. McGinnis regally swept up to 
 Parker and .gave him a cordial handshake. 
 
 "Good afthernoon, Misther Parker, an' are yez 
 back agin, safe an' sound?" 
 
 "As well as a fish, Mrs. McGinnis, and twice as 
 happy." 
 
 "Bob's always well an' sometimes happy," ven- 
 tured Horton, tentatively. 
 
 Putting her arms akimbo, Mrs. McGinnis turned 
 and icily looked Horton over as if she had just be- 
 come conscious of his presence and was not quite 
 sure of his identity. 
 
 "So," she sneered, "ye 're here agin, are yez, 
 Misther Tom Horton? It do be aisier wor-r-k hold- 
 in' up McGinnis 's bar than chasin' horse thieves 
 an' a whole lot safer." 
 
 Horton bowed in as courtly a fashion as any cav-
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 423 
 
 alier could have done, his huge felt hat, which he 
 held in his hand, almost sweeping the floor. 
 
 "You sure are some good guesser, ma'am," he 
 grinned. 
 
 "Let's not start a guessing school," interposed 
 Parker, good-humoredly. "I inspected your mine, 
 as I promised to do, Mrs. McGinnis. Just as I sus- 
 pected, that fellow Atherton had obtained some in- 
 side information and had been doing a little inves- 
 tigating on his own hook. I had sized him up as a 
 shark and I was sure that something was wrong as 
 soon as I heard that he had made you that generous 
 offer. Atherton is a graduate of Wall Street, where 
 one or two thousand per cent is considered a legit- 
 imate rake-off for the insider. He hasn't quite 
 got the smell of the Street off him yet. He was play 
 ing you for a sure thing, Mrs. McGinnis. ' ' 
 
 "Pfwat's that? A sure thing!" she exclaimed, 
 bewilderedly, "an' pfwat iver d'yez mane by that, 
 sorr?" 
 
 "I mean," he quietly replied, "that there's a good 
 million in that mine, if there's a red cent." 
 
 "Glory be!" cried the delighted woman. "Oi'll 
 hug ye f er that, Misther Parker ! ' ' 
 
 She was as good as her word and almost strangled 
 the young man in her vigorous expression of appreci- 
 ation. Just as he was on the verge of asphyxia, 
 she let go of his neck and turned her attention to 
 her husband, who was too overcome to utter a 
 sound. 
 
 ' * Come out of it, y ' ould fool ye ! " she cried, shak- 
 ing him violently and pounding him on the back till 
 he was blue in the face. "D'yez hear that, ye blith- 
 erin' numskull, ye? D'ye hear that, ould man? 
 We're rich as Crocus! An' now Ellen can have a
 
 424 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 pi-anny an' she kin go to wan o' thim varnishin' 
 schools, God bless her!" 
 
 McGinnis partially regained his breath. 
 
 "Yer not sthringin' us, Misther Parker?" he 
 gasped. 
 
 "Not the least bit," replied Parker, heartily, 
 you 're on the highroad to wealth, Mac, old boy. ' ' 
 
 The Irishman grabbed the young man's hand and 
 squeezed it until the bones cracked. 
 
 "Hooray! No more worruk fer Joseph McGin- 
 nis, Esquire ! ' ' 
 
 "No more pfwat?" sneered his wife, coldly. 
 
 "No more tindin' bar!" 
 
 "An' yez call that worruk, do yez ? Oi '11 have yez 
 understand that th' worruk o' this house is done on 
 this soide o ' that partition. D ' yez remimber pfwat 
 Oi was afther sayin' ter ye th' night whin " 
 
 "Come, come," interposed Parker, conciliatorily, 
 "you folks would better take a belated honeymoon, 
 when you have sold the mine, and adjust your dif- 
 ferences after you get out of town. ' ' 
 
 With the emotional instability of her race and sex, 
 Mrs. McGinnis suddenly burst into tears and threw 
 herself into her husband's arms. 
 
 "Sure, an' Misther Parker is right, Joe!" she 
 sobbed, "but whin we take our honeymoon, we'll not 
 be afther worryin ' our fool heads about inny differ- 
 ences at all at all." 
 
 "See here, Bob," whispered Horton, "are you 
 dead sure about that prospect hole? It never looked 
 good to me, an' I ain't just exactly a raw one, ye 
 know. ' ' 
 
 "I don't blame you for being skeptical, Tom, but 
 it's a cinch, just the same. The whole lot of you, 
 Dixie in particular, overlooked a bet, that's all, and,
 
 LUCK STEIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 425 
 
 to give the devil his due, I 'm not sure that Atherton 
 doesn't deserve a discoverer's medal at that, the 
 infernal scalawag!" 
 
 1 ' Well, fer a feller that's been down on his luck, 
 you're some freak when it comes ter findin' fortunes 
 fer other folks, Bob." 
 
 "Yes, Tom, but it's easier to sit in judgment on 
 other folk's prospects than on your own. All the 
 same, what I've done for the McGinnises has given 
 me more faith in myself. I'm going to strike it 
 and strike it rich before I'm done with the game. 
 I 'm sure that I 'm right and have been headed right 
 all the time." 
 
 "That's the stuff, Bob!" exclaimed Horton, af- 
 fectionately putting a hand on his friend's shoulder. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis released her husband and drying 
 her eyes on her apron, sniveled : 
 
 "There ain't no mishtake about it, Misther Par- 
 ker?" 
 
 "No, my good friend, there can be no mistake. 
 I acquired more than a smattering of mining and 
 minerals at college, as a practical working adjunct 
 to my profession of engineering, and while I my- 
 self have been a rather unsuccessful digger, and am 
 a little rusty, I still know a good thing in ore when 
 once it's uncovered. The McGinnis family has the 
 world by the horns. The claim is the kind that cap- 
 italists tumble all over themselves to get." 
 
 "The Lord bless ye, Misther Parker! Sure an' 
 Oi must tell Ellen all about it!" 
 
 The excited woman started up the stairs on a 
 run, exclaiming: 
 
 "Ellen! Oh, Ellen! Mavourneen! Where are 
 yez?" 
 
 She stumbled when half way up the stairs and fell
 
 426 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 down several steps. She must have been shaken and 
 bruised considerably, but she rose to her feet and 
 tore up the stairs as if bad falls to her were merely 
 a pleasant and healthful diversion. 
 
 Parker followed as far as the foot of the stairs 
 and shot a parting word of advice after her. 
 
 1 ' Oh, by the way, Mrs. McGinnis ! Keep the mine 
 business to yourself, and caution Ellen to keep 
 quiet. If Atherton approaches you again about the 
 mine, say nothing of what I have told you. I'll at- 
 tend to all that. Just turn him down, that 's all. ' ' 
 
 "Turn him down, th' shpaipeen ! Turn him down, 
 is it!" she replied. "He'll be knocked down, an' 
 Oi'll attind ter that, Misther Parker!" 
 
 "An* she will, too, an' don't ye fergit it," said 
 her husband, with confidence born of sad experience. 
 
 ' ' Come, gintlemin, ' ' McGinnis continued, with the 
 dignified air befitting one whose fortunes had been 
 touched by the magic hand of Midas, "ye '11 be afther 
 indulgin' in some o' the besht in th' house, as 
 speshul giiists an' f rinds o' the proprietor, th' Hon- 
 orable Misther Joseph McGinnis, Esquire." 
 
 With the pompous carriage of a drum-major, he 
 led the way to the bar, lining up with his two friends 
 in front of it. 
 
 "Sam, ye lazy divil, ye!" he roared at the negro, 
 who was sitting in his accustomed chair and, as 
 usual, comatose, "shtir yer clumsy monkey shtumps 
 an' ser-r-ve us gintlemin with some ref rishmints ! " 
 
 Sam awoke, and in wild-eyed amazement rushed to 
 the rear of the bar and set out the drinks. 
 
 "Are yer glasses filled, gintlemin?" 
 
 "All ready, sir," chorused Parker and Horton, 
 raising their glasses. 
 
 "Thin here's t',the the pfwat the divil was that
 
 LUCK STRIKES HOUSE OF McGINNIS 427 
 
 ye said th' McGinnis family was on, Misther Par- 
 ker?" 
 
 ' ' The high-road to wealth, sir, ' ' replied the young 
 man, gravely. 
 
 1 'That's it, sorr, that's it! Well gintlemin, here's 
 ter th' high-road ter wilth!" 
 
 "An' now, gintlemin," said McGinnis, looking at 
 his watch, which resembled a town clock, "it's almost 
 supper toime an' " 
 
 "Tea time, Mr. McGinnis," corrected Parker, sob- 
 erly. 
 
 Ah ! yis, so 'tis. Thank ye, Misther Parker. Well, 
 as I was afther sayin', it's almost tay toime, an' it 
 would give great plisure ter me wife an' daugh- 
 ther an ' mesilf , if yez would take tay wid us. ' ' 
 
 The two friends accepted the invitation and their 
 host led the way to a table near by and asked them to 
 be seated, pending meal-time. 
 
 "Samuel," he ordered, "fetch us some seegars 
 some o' them speshuls, in the box under th' bar." 
 
 The porter obeyed and the party lit their cigars 
 and settled down for a brief smoke. 
 
 Sam started out of the door at the rear of the 
 bar-room, leading to the dining room. 
 
 "Samuel," called McGinnis, "yez '11 plaze be af- 
 ther notifyin' us whin tay is sarved." 
 
 "Yes, boss," and the bewildered Sam, with eyes 
 bulging like a couple of white, black-centered door- 
 knobs, backed through the door and disappeared.
 
 CHAPTER XXVI 
 
 HORTON HEARS SOME INTERESTING THINGS AND 
 CENSORS THE PRESS 
 
 The guests and regular boarders at the bountiful 
 table of the Miners' Rest that memorable evening 
 were conscious of an unwonted tension in the air. 
 
 The unusual dignity and pompousness affected 
 by Mr. McGinnis were noted by all, and even those 
 who were ignorant of the causes that underlay them, 
 found his " uppish" airs very entertaining. Some 
 of the diners had considerable trouble in restraining 
 outward expression of their humorous appreciation 
 of mine host's ludicrous antics. Eespect for his 
 authority and physical prowess, rather than innate 
 courtesy, possibly may have been largely responsible 
 for the ability of some of the guests to preserve 
 their gravity. 
 
 Parker and Hortpn slyly winked at each other 
 several times, but aside from this surreptitious man- 
 ifestation of interest, succeeded in looking uncon- 
 cerned, although they were the most amused of the 
 entire party. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis was as red as a turkey cock, with 
 suppressed emotions. Being naturally voluble, yet 
 forbidden to talk about the wonderfully good fortune 
 of the family, she underwent tortures all through 
 the meal. 
 
 Ellen, too, was , eagerly intense with suppressed
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 429 
 
 excitement, in which doubts of the authenticity of 
 the good news and consequent fear of disappoint- 
 ment held a prominent place. 
 
 Sam relieved the situation a little by his awk- 
 wardness in waiting on the table. Between the poor 
 fellow's natural clumsiness of movement and the be- 
 wilderment produced in his mind by the queer ac- 
 tions of his employers, the negro was having a 
 hard time of it, and he was not made altogether un- 
 happy by the explosions of temper with which Mrs. 
 McGinnis greeted some of his ungainly maneuvers. 
 When finally he stumbled and fell, spilling upon the 
 floor a tray full of viands, with a resultant promis- 
 cous mixture of broken dishes, food and sprawling 
 Ethiopian, everybody burst out in a loud guffaw 
 which served as a timely safety-valve for their pent- 
 up emotions. 
 
 The copious vials of wrath poured upon his de- 
 voted head by the irate Mrs. McGinnis and her 
 equally infuriated spouse, whose dignity was for the 
 moment quite forgotten, made the negro feel thor- 
 oughly at home once more. 
 
 The guests, too, were restored to their usual good 
 spirits and equanimity, and finished their meal in 
 the best of humor, joshing Sam most unmercifully 
 and even venturing to take a few playful liberties 
 with the doughty McGinnis himself, whose affecta- 
 tion of dignity now was completely shattered. 
 
 Parker and Horton pointedly enjoyed the situa- 
 tion, greatly to the mystification of Miss Weather- 
 son, who sat between them, and to whom they had 
 not confided the portentous secret of the windfall 
 that had come to the house of McGinnis. 
 
 The meal finished, the male boarders repaired to 
 the bar-room or to the veranda of the hotel to di-
 
 430 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 vert themselves each in his own fashion, leaving 
 the women of the household to attend to the dishes. 
 
 Having some papers to mark, the shool-teacher 
 retired to her room, and did not reappear. 
 
 Parker and the sheriff provided themselves with 
 chairs, seated themselves upon the veranda and 
 proceeded to make themselves as comfortable with 
 their pipes as the warm August evening permitted, 
 commiserating poor McGinnis who, though he now 
 was rich as " Crocus," would for some time be com- 
 pelled to remain at his wearisome post and cater to 
 the omnipresent and omnipotent Deadwood thirst. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis and Ellen having finished their 
 rather onerous domestic duties for the evening, re- 
 paired to the upper regions of the hotel. The young 
 girl, however, evidently was unable to contain her- 
 self and shortly afterward quietly returned to the 
 hotel office. Through the open door she saw the 
 two friends, who were still sitting on the steps 
 engaged in quiet conversation. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Parker!" she called. 
 
 "Yes, my dear," answered the young man, "what 
 can I do for you?" 
 
 "Won't you come here for just a moment, please? 
 I want to speak to you." 
 
 "Surely I will, Ellen," and he knocked the ashes 
 from his pipe and joined her. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Parker!" she whispered, eagerly, "is 
 it really true about the mine? Are we really going 
 to be rich?" 
 
 "No, little girl, not going to be you are rich 
 and very rich." 
 
 "My! isn't it wonderful? And now I'm really 
 going to school in the east, and study music, and 
 have a grand piano, and pretty clothes, just like
 
 THE SHEEIFF CENSORS THE PEESS 431 
 
 in the fashion books and why, Mr. Parker, it is 
 just like a fairy tale !" 
 
 "Yes, little girl," smiled Parker, sympathetically, 
 "and a Prince Charming may come who knows?" 
 
 He looked up and saw Mr. W. Ponsonby Smithers 
 standing at the door, undeniably swaying on his 
 feet and gravely regarding Ellen and himself. 
 
 "If what I hear is true," he continued, "here he 
 comes now. Two's company and you know the 
 rest, Ellen," he laughed, "so good night," and 
 calling to Horton to join him, he entered the bar- 
 room. 
 
 As he passed Smithers, Parker greeted him cordi- 
 ally. 
 
 "Evenin' hie! Mishter Parker," hiccoughed 
 the Englishman, blinking as gravely as an owl 
 
 "Humph!" muttered the young man to himself, 
 "I'm not so sure about the 'charming.' That fel- 
 low is learning the ropes mighty fast." 
 
 The miner and his friend, the sheriff, proceeded 
 to the bar, where McGrinnis was serving a number 
 of thirsty patrons, and Smithers, putting on a bold 
 front, accosted Ellen. 
 
 ' ' Evenin ', Mish Mish hie ! Ellen. ' ' 
 
 She did not at once comprehend the situation. 
 
 "Why were you not here for supper, Mr. Smithers, 
 and where have you been all evening? You promised 
 to teach me cribbage ! ' ' she said, reproachfully. 
 
 "Crib cribbage," replied the Englishman, thick- 
 ly; " obsolete, Mish McGrinnish hie! obsolete! 
 hie! po poker's only fash fash'nable game 
 what? Crib cribbage ! only blawsted, bloomin' 
 tenderfootsh hie! play crib cribbage. I'm not 
 keen on tenderfootsh, don 'tcher know, Mish Mish 
 hie ! McGinnish. ' '
 
 432 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The girl stared at him in horrified astonishment. 
 
 "Why, Mr. Smithers! You're intoxicated!" 
 
 The conversation between the young girl and her 
 bibulous caller was plainly overheard by Parker 
 and Horton and also by McGinnis, who was serving 
 them with drinks at the end of the bar nearest the 
 door. 
 
 The Irishman started to pass from behind the 
 bar with the evident intention of belligerently aid- 
 ing his daughter in the entertainment of her intox- 
 icated visitor. 
 
 "Don't get stampeded, Mac," Horton laughingly 
 interposed, "if that Englishman's talk ain't any 
 more dangerous than his shootin', I reckon Ellen 
 can keep up her end o' the gab-fest, all right." 
 
 "N no, I'm not not hie! intocshicated not 
 at all, Mish Mish hie! McGinnish. Boys been 
 fixin' hie! me bloomin' feetsh, that'sh all sure, 
 that'sh all, Mish hie! Mish McGinnish!" 
 
 "I guess they're fixed all right," retorted Ellen, 
 scornfully, "I fancy the boys have pickled most of 
 the tenderness out of them. Good night Mr. W. 
 Ponsonby Smithers ! ' ' and, like an enraged princess 
 of the realm, the young lady wrathfully swept up 
 the stairs. 
 
 During the conversation Parker and Horton were 
 quietly enjoying the passage at arms. McGinnis 
 was compelled to struggle so violently with his de- 
 sire to roar with delight that his face grew purple. 
 The sheriff playfully jabbed him in the ribs. 
 
 "D'ye hear that, Joe? She's a chip off'n the 
 old block. Ye see I was right, there ain't any pickled 
 Englishman goin' ter git away with anything while 
 there's a McGinnis on the job." 
 
 "Be the Lord!" chuckled McGinnis, proudly, "Oi
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 433 
 
 b'lave yer right, Sheriff. She sure did soak 'im a 
 good wan that toime ! ' ' 
 
 Smithers blinked stupidly after the indignant El- 
 len for a moment and then entering the bar-room, 
 wabbled up to the two friends, with whom McGinnis 
 still was foregathered at the bar. 
 
 "Shay, fellers," he mouthed; "come on an' hie! 
 lesh have a hie! bloomin' night-cap, don'tcher 
 hie ! know. ' ' 
 
 "Sure yez kin have a night-cap," said McGinnis, 
 grimly, coming round the end of the bar and taking 
 Smithers by the arm. "An' yez kin have a foine 
 soft bed along wid it, me laddie buck." 
 
 He led his intoxicated boarder towards the en- 
 trance of the hotel, a task which was not so easy 
 as it looked, for the Englishman resisted to the best 
 of his ability and, drunk though he was, showed a 
 muscularity that astonished the burly Irishman and 
 gave him about all he could attend to. 
 
 "But, I hie! shay, me good man!" protested 
 Smithers, en route, "I don't want yer bloomin' bed 
 hie! don'tcher know. What d'ye think I am, 
 anyhow, a blawsted hie ! tenderf ootsh ? ' ' 
 
 McGinnis turned and winked at the two friends 
 and puffed : 
 
 1 ' Not on yer blawsted, bloomin ' loif e ! ' ' 
 
 The recalcitrant Smithers finally submitted to 
 superior force and resignedly allowed his captor to 
 conduct him upstairs to his room. 
 
 /'Say, Bob," remarked Horton, as mine host and 
 his captive disappeared, "it looks as if the McGin- 
 nises was in f er a son-in-law. ' ' 
 
 So I hear," laughed Parker. "Does Joe suspect 
 it?" 
 
 "I should say not!" Horton roared. "Nobody
 
 434 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 would dare ter even hint it ter McGinnis let alone 
 ter Mollie dear. An Englishman ! Holy mackerel ! 
 I wouldn't like ter be the man ter carry the news 
 ter Mary. ' ' 
 
 "Well, as the old adage has it, the McGinnises 
 might go farther and fare worse," rejoined Parker, 
 seriously, "unless that fellow gets so thoroughly 
 acclimated that he acquires the booze habit, and I 
 don't think he will Ellen will attend to that. 
 
 "Anyway," he laughed, "papa and mamma would 
 better get into the band wagon. Ellen and the Eng- 
 lishman are going to have a bit of a row, but when 
 they come to making up, they are going to get on 
 thin ice at least that's what usually happens in 
 such cases." 
 
 "Not knowin', couldn't say, Bob, but you'd ough- 
 ter know. ' ' 
 
 "Just as an onlooker, Tom," rejoined Parker, 
 smilingly. 
 
 "By the way, Tom," he continued, "if Smithers 
 ever marries Ellen and the girl is the least bit like 
 her estimable mother, there's going to be a lot of 
 poetic justice in the match. There's where Ireland 
 will get even with Merrie England. It will be a case 
 of home rule, all right which nobody can deny. ' ' 
 
 "I wish him plenty o' joy," chuckled Horton. 
 "Mrs. Mac is a sort of a bachelor's consolation 
 an' she's one hell of a fine specimen of a woman at 
 that. I reckon Joe commenced wrong with her. 
 But ye 're right about one thing, Bob; the McGin- 
 nises might go a mighty long ways farther an' get 
 nothin' but the worst o' the bargain." 
 
 "We are a little previous, anyway," observed 
 Parker, "Smithers hasn't got the girl yet." 
 
 "It's a safe bet that he will get her, though," as-
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSOES THE PRESS 435 
 
 serted Horton, "He's stuck on her an' lie won't quit 
 till he lands her, high an' dry. He's like the rest o' 
 his breed, they stick like a pup to a root till they 
 get what they're after. An' I'll bet ye somethin' 
 else, Bob; that Johnny Bull ain't such a damn fool 
 as he looks. He's like the singed cat they tell about, 
 an' he ain't got through foolin' the people o' this lit- 
 tle old town yet. ' ' 
 
 "From what the boys who initiated him say, he's 
 a game bird, all right, ' ' commented Parker. 
 
 "Game! Why, he's game as a pebble, Bob. He'd 
 face a Bengal tiger an' say, 'My word! What an 
 extraor'nary large kitten ! don'tcher know' an' nev- 
 er sweat a hair. I've staked him to a real gun, an' 
 I'm teachin' him ter shoot." 
 
 "I noticed that he was toting a .44. Why don't 
 you get him to shed his monocle, Tom? I wonder 
 how he stands having fun poked at it." 
 
 "Ye can't feaze him," chuckled Horton. "I'll 
 get him ter quit wearin' that thing by an' by, though. 
 I'll tell him he'll never make a gun-man unless he 
 chucks that pane o ' glass inter the discard. ' ' 
 
 "Well, Tom, for an Englishman, he is becoming 
 Americanized pretty fast." 
 
 "Americanized! Say, Bob, ye'd jest oughter see 
 that feller play poker! Ain't got no more expres- 
 sion than a Chink. He jest sets there an' keeps ye 
 guessin', an' he's as cool as a Dakota winter which 
 is goin' some, as ye '11 discover by an' by. The gang 
 pretty near cleaned him out, first off, but he kep ' on 
 a poundin' away until he got the hang o* the game. 
 He got a remittance from home the other day; the 
 boys heard about it, an' the way they went after it 
 was a sight ter see. They got him ter set in a game 
 at Dutchy's joint a few nights ago, an' when he got
 
 436 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 through with them wise guys they looked like the 
 last run o ' shad. When he left f er home every one o ' 
 them suckers was stony broke, an' Smithers was 
 totin' a roll as big as a mule's hind leg. That roll's 
 a layin' in McGinnis's safe, right this minute, I'll 
 bet you a ten spot. ' ' 
 
 An inspiration suddenly struck Horton. 
 
 1 'See here, Bob, why don't ye hook up with the 
 Englishman? He wants ter get inter the minin' 
 game. With him as the capitalist in a small way, 
 an' you ter do the hustlin', it would be a good thing 
 ferbotho'ye." 
 
 "You're bound to make him lose that bank roll, 
 I see, Tom, ' ' laughed Parker. 
 
 "Don't believe he'll lose it, an' seein' as how it's 
 a square business proposition ter put up to him, 
 he'd get a run fer his money, anyhow, an' that's 
 somethin' in these diggin's." 
 
 "Very well, Tom, I'll think it over. Perhaps Dr. 
 Horton 's gold cure wouldn't hurt Smithers, anyway. 
 Judging by my own experience in mining it would 
 keep his mind off evil associations. That would 
 help my conscience some if we lost out." 
 
 Breathing heavily and still perspiring from his 
 exertions, McGinnis returned, resumed his place 
 behind the bar and went to Sam's assistance in his 
 efforts to serve a party of men that had just en- 
 tered. 
 
 The Irishman mopped his streaming face as he 
 passed the two friends and said, with an appreci- 
 ative grin: 
 
 ' ' Oi got him inter bed, all right, but fer a whoile, 
 Oi thought he'd be afther puttin' me ter bed. He 
 sure did thry his damndest ter do it. Begorra, he 
 had me goin ', wonst ! He had half o ' me clothes off ! "
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 437 
 
 "What a damned scoundrel that feller Atherton 
 is, Bob!" suddenly ejaculated Horton. I'd like 
 well, I'd like ter attend ter his case perfessionally 
 somehow or other. ' ' 
 
 "I'm afraid that you'd not be very popular in 
 Now York, Tom. The promoters and the Wall 
 Street menagerie wouldn't take to you very kindly." 
 
 "Probably not. There ain't a whole lot o' dif- 
 ference between some fellers that calls themselves 
 promoters, an' out-an'-out thieves. Holy smoke! 
 Speakin' o' the devil, look who's comin'!" 
 
 A large, slightly portly but powerful-looking man 
 of middle-age was entering the bar-room. He was 
 rather flashily dressed, silk-hatted, with a large dia- 
 mond in his white shirt front and a heavy linked 
 gold watch-chain stretched across his massive chest. 
 
 With his iron gray hair, black eyes and ruddy com- 
 plexion, James Atherton, "mining promoter" and 
 all-round shark, would have passed for a fine-looking 
 man in any company. He even would have been at- 
 tractive, if his expression had not been so distinctly 
 sinister and repellent. 
 
 What his physiognomy had not done for him in 
 unfavorably impressing the minds of his fellow- 
 citizens of Deadwood, had been suggested by his 
 actions during the eight months or so that he had 
 sojourned in the Hills. Several deals that Atherton 
 had pulled off and a few others that he had un- 
 successfully tried to pull off had appeared a bit 
 raw to certain people and suggested not only that 
 the promoter was living by his wits and at other 
 people's expense, but that those "wits" were not 
 always clean and on the square. 
 
 The bad impression that he had made was a little 
 indefinite as yet, but Atherton was far from being
 
 438 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 popular, and public opinion slowly but surely was 
 crystallizing toward the point of general protest 
 which was a serious matter in such a community as 
 Deadwood. 
 
 Accompanying Atherton was a slight, fair-haired, 
 boyish-looking fellow of perhaps twenty-two or three 
 years of age, of quick, lithe movement, a sharp, 
 alert expression, and a keen blue eye which, at a 
 glance, took in the room and everybody within sight. 
 
 The new-comers stood for a moment surveying the 
 people in the room. Atherton recognized Parker 
 and Horton and his face darkened. As his gaze 
 rested on the former there was a sinister gleam in 
 his eye and a slight sneer curled the corners of his 
 hard mouth. He and his companion proceeded to 
 the bar and Sam came to them to take their orders. 
 As they passed the sheriff and his friend the pro- 
 moter curtly nodded to them. 
 
 ' * Good evening, Sheriff. Howdy, Parker f ' ' 
 
 The two men civilly acknowledged the greeting, 
 and Horton beckoned to McGinnis as if to order a 
 drink. 
 
 "Who's the feller with Atherton, Mac!" he asked, 
 quietly. 
 
 "His name's Gordon. He's some newspaper fel- 
 ler from th' east. Rolled in lasht noight. He ain't 
 shtoppin' here, but he's a clane-lookin' bye at that, 
 sorr. Hope that divil, Atherton, don 't shpoil him. ' ' 
 
 "Huh!" exclaimed the sheriff; "no danger. 
 They're two of a kind, I'll bet a hat, an' bad eggs 
 is bad eggs an' pretty safe from bein' spoiled by 
 worse eggs. It won 't do any harm t ' keep an eye on 
 the new chap too, seein' as how we're on the job with 
 his friend."
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSOES THE PRESS 439 
 
 "A little whiskey and sugar, Sam," said Atherton. 
 1 'What's yours, kid?" 
 
 "I'll take a cigar. Don't mind if I cut out the 
 booze, do you, Atherton ? ' ' 
 
 "Of course not make a ham out of yourself, if 
 you like. ' ' 
 
 Atherton turned to Parker and Horton: 
 
 "Won't you join us, gentlemen?" 
 
 "Thankee, no," answered Horton. "We've had 
 half a dozen night caps already, an' when ye get 
 ter them, it's time ter call fer yer time an' quit." 
 
 Atherton tossed off his liquor and his friend lit 
 his cigar. At the older man's suggestion the two 
 men repaired to a table near a front window, open- 
 ing on the veranda, and seated themselves. 
 
 Horton and Parker bade McGinnis good night and 
 left the bar-room. As they passed out of the door 
 the sheriff looked sharply at the promoter and his 
 friend, Gordon, and noted that both men were eyeing 
 Parker very attentively. Atherton 's expression, he 
 thought, was plainly hostile. 
 
 The two friends passed out into the night and 
 started towards home. When they had proceeded 
 a short distance the sheriff suddenly stopped. 
 
 "Lookee here, Bob," he said, "you don't need 
 no official escort, so mosey along ter the shack by yer- 
 self. I've got a little business ter see to. I'll be 
 along after a while." 
 
 "All right, Tom; I've got to turn out at six in the 
 morning and make up for lost time, anyway. If I 
 don 't get a hustle on me, I '11 never finish that cabin 
 at the mine. See you at wash-up time, old man." 
 and Parker went on his way. 
 
 Horton quickly returned to the hotel, secured a 
 chair and noiselessly seated himself on the veranda at
 
 440 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 a little distance from the open window near which 
 Atherton and Gordon were sitting, and within plain 
 hearing distance of the two. 
 
 As Parker and his friend, the sheriff, passed 
 out, Gordon observed the malevolent glances that 
 Atherton was directing towards the former, and his 
 curiosity was at once aroused. 
 
 "Who 's your friend, Atherton ? ' ' 
 
 "Friend!" snapped Atherton, savagely "The 
 things I'd like to do that damned upstart! " 
 
 "Wouldn't be safe around here, eh?" commented 
 Gordon, dryly. 
 
 "You've hit it," snarled the other. 
 
 "Possibly you might do some real funny things 
 to him away from this rough-and-tumble town 
 if you got the right steer." 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded Atherton. 
 
 "Drive slowly, please. I don't like to be rushed 
 for copy. What 's his name ! ' ' 
 
 "Parker Bob Parker." 
 
 "Where does he hail from?" 
 
 "Don't know; back east, somewhere or other." 
 
 "Seeing that you admit that you don't like him, 
 what's between you?" 
 
 "Oh, I hate him on general principles," growled 
 Atherton, evasively. "He puts on more airs than 
 an Indian nabob, and carries himself as if he owned 
 the earth." 
 
 "Come off, Atherton, get down to brass tacks 
 and let's have the story." 
 
 "Well, he butts into my business in a way that I 
 don't like," replied Atherton. "Somebody has 
 queered several things for me here, and I'm pretty 
 sure that he did it, damn him ! ' ' 
 
 This acutely interested Horton, who had just
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 441 
 
 seated himself on the veranda, and he moved his 
 chair a little closer to the window. 
 
 * * Say, Atherton, ' ' sneered Gordon, contemptuous- 
 ly, ' ' that may not be altogether a stall, but it doesn 't 
 go far with me. You haven 't given me the real story 
 yet. Cough up now, and get it out of your system 
 it will do you good. Come across ; I 'm listening. ' ' 
 
 "Look here, Gordon," blustered Atherton, "if you 
 know so damned much about my business, why do 
 you question me?" 
 
 "Just to pad copy," and Gordon laughed sar- 
 castically. 
 
 "Now, my gallant blade," the young fellow went 
 on, "your little Gordy will tell you the real story. 
 I'll boil it down so it won't hurt so much." 
 
 The sheriff leaned towards the window and list- 
 ened intently. 
 
 "Here goes," said the reporter. 
 
 "Mining promoter lady killer from New York, 
 comes to Deadwood, seeking whom and what he may 
 devour meets pretty little school-ma'am goes af- 
 ter her handsome young miner in the way gent 
 from New York furiously jealous would like to " 
 
 "What do you know about the pretty school- 
 ma'am?" demanded Atherton, angrily, half rising 
 from his chair. "How the devil do you know I'm 
 stuck on her?" 
 
 "How do I know?" mocked Gordon, "why, man 
 that 's dead easy ! I saw you talking to Miss Weath- 
 erson at the postoffice this noon. I pumped that 
 wind-bag who holds down the postmaster's job and 
 found out about the lady. I'm not blind; she's 
 a raging, tearing beauty and I know you, Jim 
 Atherton. I merely guessed the rest of the situation,
 
 442 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 so far as you are concerned, and hit the nail plumb 
 center." 
 
 The promoter sullenly dropped back into his 
 chair. The sheriff, glowering ominously toward the 
 window, removed his broad-brimmed hat and busied 
 himself with wiping away the huge beads of perspir- 
 ation that stood out upon his sun-tanned forehead. 
 
 1 'I saw the little school-ma'am meet your friend, 
 Parker, down the road a piece this afternoon," con- 
 tinued the reporter. "I was only a little ways be- 
 hind them when they strolled towards the hotel. 
 I don't have to guess regarding either of them I 
 know. She's dead gone on him, an' he's plumb cra- 
 zy about her, and, like a sucker, he 's trying to keep 
 the lady from finding it out." 
 
 Horton grasped the arms of his clumsy chair and 
 nearly twisted them off. 
 
 "Well, Mr. Rubber-Neck," sneered Atherton, de- 
 fiantly, "supposing yours is the real story, what 
 about it and where do you come in?" 
 
 ' ' Oh, there 's nothing much to say about, it, and I 
 don't know as it is my put in, anyhow, but if you'll 
 take my advice, you'll cut it out, my friend." 
 
 "Same here, Mr. Promoter," sinisterly muttered 
 Horton. 
 
 "Not in a thousand years!" 
 
 Atherton brought his fist down on the table so 
 hard that Sam, who was busily wiping off an ad- 
 joining table, jumped as if he had been shot, knock- 
 ing over several glasses and a half-filled bottle of 
 whiskey. McGinnis and his several customers 
 looked curiously toward the two men, but seeing no 
 actual hostilities in operation, resumed their respec- 
 tive occupations of serving and being served liquor.
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 443 
 
 1 'I '11 get that girl," he blustered, "if I have to 
 to " 
 
 "Wade through blood to the bridles," suggested 
 his friend, dryly. "Well, I suspect that you can be 
 accommodated. I understand that that fellow 
 What's his name? Oh, Horton, the sheriff, who 
 was chinning with Parker a little while ago, is 
 clean gone on the girl." 
 
 Horton 's impulse was to jump through the win- 
 dow on top of the two men. It was only by an al- 
 most superhuman effort that he restrained himself 
 and continued listening to the conversation. 
 
 "As she evidently doesn't care a hang about you," 
 Gordon went on irritatingly, "and is merely polite 
 to you because she's a born lady and doesn't know 
 yet that you're not in her class, you have about as 
 much chance with her as a brick of strawberry ice- 
 cream has in hell in the middle of August hottest 
 year the oldest inhabitant ever knew. As to Par- 
 ker, he's not safe to monkey with gambling on 
 form. ' ' 
 
 "I don't care a damn for the sheriff and I'm not 
 afraid of Parker, just remember that," exclaimed 
 Atherton, hotly. 
 
 "So ye just don't care a damn fer me, an' ye ain't 
 a bit afraid o' Bob, eh?" the sheriff muttered to him- 
 self. "I'll remember that, if that newspaper feller 
 don't." 
 
 "Bravely said, my bold squire of dames," said 
 Gordon, mockingly, "but let me tell you something, 
 my friend, I'll bet you what you like, that Parker 
 can whip a dozen of you at once in the same ring, 
 without turning a hair, while as for gun-play! 
 Pshaw! Atherton, you make me tired. Go take a 
 post-graduate course. I'm not saying anything at
 
 444 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 all about the sheriff. We New Yorkers would better 
 sing pretty low when we bump up against his kind." 
 
 "Perhaps I don't need a post-graduate course 
 when it comes to shooting; I can go some myself." 
 boasted Atherton. "I can shoot a turkey's head off 
 at fifty yards and do it nearly every time. ' ' 
 
 "Yes," countered Gordon, grimly, "but every- 
 thing on two legs out here, totes a gun. It's differ- 
 ent when the turkey has a gun." 
 
 "Right ye are, ye damned little cuss!" chuckled 
 Horton, under his breath. "An' some o' them tur- 
 keys has got teeth, an' spurs an' that's different 
 again." 
 
 "All right, gun or no gun," retorted Atherton, 
 doggedly, "I'm going to get that girl just the same." 
 
 1 'If some of her blood-thirsty, hair-triggered ador^ 
 ers don't get you." 
 
 "Huh!" thought the sheriff, affectionately fond- 
 ling the butt of his .44. "Yer not as big a fool as 
 ye look, young feller." 
 
 "What about your wife, Atherton f" asked Gor- 
 don, suddenly. 
 
 Horton gave a start and became more eagerly at- 
 tentive than ever. 
 
 The bolt went home. Atherton sprang to his feet, 
 his face livid with fury. 
 
 "To hell with my wife ! Hasn't she applied for a 
 divorce ? ' ' 
 
 "Yes," retorted Gordon, sarcastically, "on 
 grounds of desertion, non-support and a few other 
 things that New York doesn't mind so much. That 
 will help you a lot with the little school-teacher, 
 won't it? If that doesn't win her, the pathetic story 
 of those three helpless little kiddies that you left be-
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSOES THE PRESS 445 
 
 hind for that poor sick woman to care for will boom 
 your stock with the lady in great shape not ! ' ' 
 
 1 1 The damned scoundrel ! ' ' exclaimed Horton, aud- 
 ibly, in spite of himself. 
 
 "What's that you said?" demanded Gordon. 
 
 "I didn't say," raged Atherton, who was so fur- 
 ious that the sheriff's indiscretion escaped him, "but 
 I'll say it now! You just cut all that family- 
 record stuff out of your conversation when you're 
 talking with me, if you know what's good for you. 
 See?" 
 
 Gordon looked Atherton 's burly frame over as 
 coolly as if the promoter had been a prize steer, and 
 calmly lighted a fresh cigar. 
 
 "Say, Atherton, you'll scare somebody if you're 
 not careful, but let me give you a tip it won't be a 
 New York police reporter who, for two or three 
 years, has spent most of his nights rubbering about 
 the Five Points and Hell's Half Acre. Don't forget 
 that, please. I'll cut that stuff out, though, but Lord ! 
 man, how I hate to do it! My newspaper instinct 
 rebels against the sacrifice. The Herald would fire 
 its brilliant special correspondent if the old man 
 knew I'd killed such bully good stuff as that, even 
 in a talk-fest. Then, perhaps, I couldn't make an 
 honest living any more and even might have to be- 
 come a promoter. Who knows ? ' ' 
 
 Atherton sullenly resumed his seat and the sher- 
 iff left his chair and took a position nearer the win- 
 dow, where he could get a full view of the men whose 
 conversation he had found so entertaining and dis- 
 turbing. 
 
 "Say, Gordon!" exclaimed Atherton, struck by a 
 sudden thought. "How the deuce do you happen
 
 446 TKUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 to be so interested in that fellow, Parker? You 
 struck town only last night." 
 
 "Oh, I'm a newspaper man, and we've got Scot- 
 land Yard, the Pinkerton's and the United States Se- 
 cret Service beat to a fare-you-well. Besides well, 
 Parker came from the east, and " 
 
 Atherton rose and laid his hand oil Gordon's 
 shoulder. 
 
 "By God, Dick! you've got something on him! 
 You owe me one, boy ! Have you forgotten that I " 
 
 ' * That you saved me from the gutter, eh 1 " inter- 
 rupted Gordon, bitterly. "No, I haven't forgotten 
 it so generous of you to mention it, Atherton. I 
 remember it so well that I'm going to help you out, 
 even though I've got to be an infernal scoundrel to 
 do it. Then we'll be quits, and maybe before you 
 get through, you'll give me, by way of the coroner's 
 office here in Deadwood, a still better story than the 
 one I'm going to suppress." 
 
 "What do you know about that fellow?" demand- 
 ed Atherton, excitedly, leaning over the table to- 
 ward his companion. * ' What have you got on him ? ' ' 
 
 Gordon was thoroughly enjoying the situation. He 
 produced a match, lighted his cigar afresh and 
 puffed at it very deliberately. 
 
 "Damn it, man, cut loose!" irritably commanded 
 Atherton, who was consumed with impatience. 
 
 ' ' Sh h ! Keep your shirt on, Atherton, ' ' said 
 Gordon, with exasperating procrastination, between 
 puffs at his cigar. 
 
 "Hell! man go ahead." The promoter sank back 
 in his chair. 
 
 "Well," drawled the other, "that fellow's name 
 isn't Parker, any more than mine is." 
 
 Atherton grasped the end of the table and eagerly
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 447 
 
 bent forward to catch every word. Horton listened 
 in breathless expectation. 
 
 "Calm yourself, and I'll give you the diagram. 
 His name is Parkyn Robert Parkyn." 
 
 "Parkyn!" exclaimed the promoter, "that name 
 sounds mighty familiar to me." 
 
 "Shouldn't wonder if it did, as you're a New 
 Yorker and read the papers. Do you remember the 
 
 SDung engineer who got mixed up with a lot of 
 agoes at A . . .on the Hudson, during the rail- 
 road strike last year and killed one of them?" 
 
 Atherton sprang to his feet in wild excitement and 
 rushing around the table caught the reporter by the 
 arm. 
 
 "What! Do you mean to say that Parker is the 
 murderer?" 
 
 "There's no doubt of it. I'd know him among a 
 thousand. I reported the trial, and wouldn't be 
 likely to forget him. He was sent up to Sing Sing 
 for twenty years, but a couple of months ago he 
 escaped, breaking the head of that despicable brute, 
 Bull Hennessy, on the way. He was winged by the 
 guards, but got to the river, jumped in and was 
 again fired at by the guards and everybody supposed 
 that he was either shot through the head and killed, 
 or so badly hurt that he was drowned. He has not 
 been heard from since that day. A reward was 
 offered for his recapture and it still stands, but as he 
 is believed to be dead, the case practically has 
 dropped out of sight." 
 
 "You're sure you are not making a mistake?" 
 asked Atherton, hungrily. 
 
 "Mistake! Why, man, I knew him the minute I 
 set my eyes on him. Just to prove that I know what
 
 448 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 I'm talking about, let me show you something I 
 have in my trunk. ' ' 
 
 The reporter left the bar-room and passed out of 
 the hotel without noticing Horton, who was sitting 
 in the deep shadows of the veranda, returning in a 
 few minutes with a large book under his arm. 
 
 "Here," he said, opening the volume, "is a col- 
 lection of clippings of my stuff. This is my account 
 of the trial and a mighty good picture of your be- 
 loved friend, Parker ! ' ' 
 
 With his finger on the page indicated, Gordon 
 pushed the book across the table to his companion. 
 
 In a transport of delight Atherton glanced at the 
 headlines. 
 
 ' ' By all the gods ! It is that fellow, sure as shoot- 
 ing. So, Mr. Bob Parker," he sneered, joyfully 
 gazing at the picture, "you're just an ordinary 
 damned jail-bird, eh?" 
 
 ' ' Sh h ! Not so loud, man, ' ' cautioned his friend. 
 
 The newspaper man looked about him apprehen- 
 sively, and with decided relief saw that everybody 
 had left the bar-room excepting McGinnis and the 
 colored porter, who were busily engaged tidying up 
 the bottles and glassware. 
 
 "This hair-triggered town is not a safe place for 
 calling names," continued Gordon, warningly, "No 
 use in ordering your tuberoses and immortelles 
 prematurely. ' ' 
 
 "Glad ter keep the wreaths nice an' fresh fer ye, 
 gents," said Horton meaningly, to himself. 
 
 "Oh, but it's dead easy!" exulted Atherton. "Just 
 watch me put that fellow back in his cage that's 
 all!" 
 
 "Better not make any fuss about it," warned 
 Gordon. "Such things are best pulled off on the
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 449 
 
 quiet, you know. A letter from me to the chief of 
 police in New York will do the business. The chief 
 will keep our end of the matter quiet, and it never 
 need be known that we had a finger in the pie. ' ' 
 
 "Fine business!" muttered Horton, savagely bit- 
 ing his mustache. "Nobody '11 ever know, eh? No- 
 body but that old cuss, Tom Horton an' p'raps he 
 don't count." 
 
 "Yes," protested Atherton, vindictively, "but I 
 want that big stiff to know that I'm onto him, and 
 when he is back in the pen, that I did have a hand in 
 caging him again. ' ' 
 
 Gordon looked his amazement and disgust as he 
 replied : 
 
 "Say, Atherton, are you crazy, or just a plain, 
 everyday, damned fool 1 If you want to commit sui- 
 cide, I suppose it's your business, and that nobody 
 has a right to stop you, but why. don't you take 
 morphine? It's a blamed sight easier, more com- 
 fortable and not so mussy as the way you're headed. 
 Why, man, I wouldn't dare to send the story on to 
 my paper not while I still have business in the Hills 
 much less shoot my mouth off here in Deadwood ! ' ' 
 
 "All right, then, I'll chance it myself," snapped 
 Atherton viciously. "I know the situation much 
 better than you do. Horton and Parker are rivals, 
 in both love and politics. Parker has been here 
 only a short time, but he 's made a hit, and already is 
 talked of as a probable candidate for the office of 
 Sheriff, to succeed Tom Horton. Horton naturally 
 is going to try to succeed himself. Now, human na- 
 ture is human nature. Horton will be damned glad 
 to get rid of Parker and on two counts. I'll tip 
 the situation off to the sheriff, and you'll see Bob 
 Parker get his, all right. ' '
 
 450 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "But the two seem to be mighty good friends, 
 Atherton," objected Gordon. 
 
 * ' Friends ? Bunk ! my boy, bunk ! ' ' sneered Ather- 
 ton, contemptuously. "Friendship doesn't count in 
 love, war or politics. It's a little woolly white lamb 
 on the altar of ambition. When selfish personal in- 
 terests come into the door, friendship hides itself 
 in the coal cellar and gets a black smooch on its 
 lovely nose. When jealousy and personal ambition 
 both enter the temple, friendship flies up the chim- 
 ney and disappears in smoke. Friendship ? Humph ! 
 The real thing is so rare that history has immortal- 
 ized the little bunch of suckers that indulged in it. 
 David and Jonathan, Damon and Pythias and 
 well, you could count 'em on three or four fingers. 
 Friendship ? Bah ! Just you watch that fellow Hor- 
 ton fall for the story. " 
 
 Horton could contain himself no longer. He 
 stepped into full view in the window and leaning 
 over the sill half-way into the room, glared furiously 
 at the two plotters, who rose and stood looking at 
 him in open-mouthed astonishment and consterna- 
 tion. 
 
 He continued indignantly to transfix with his eye 
 the objects of his wrath for a full half -minute with- 
 out speaking. 
 
 "Is that sol" he sneered. "Just watch him 
 fall, gents. It'll make ye laugh jest like the cat 
 that licked the mustard plaster. You're a precious 
 pair o' beauties, ain't ye? A decent feller gets in 
 yer way, Atherton, an' instead o' fightin' it out 
 with him like a man, you try ter get him by playin' 
 him dirt. That's without sayin' nothin' about the 
 cheek of a damned hound like you, in even lookin' 
 at a decent woman. Look here, you fellers, d'ye
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 451 
 
 really think I'd fall fer any o' your dirty work? 
 Come now, honest Injun, do ye ? " 
 
 Atherton was first to recover his assurance, and 
 impudently returned the sheriff's gaze. 
 
 "Dirty work, eh? he bluffed; "well, my friend, 
 we'll let it go at that, but since you've listened to 
 our private conversation and understand the situ- 
 ation, I demand that you do your duty." 
 
 "Duty, eh?" retorted Horton, significantly: "I'll 
 do my duty all right I always do. That's why I 
 keep my ears open when miserable rats like you en- 
 gage in conspiracies. Let me tell you something 
 Mr. Jim Atherton: People in this town hain't got 
 much patience with fellers who digs up the eastern 
 records of our citizens, an ' the kind o ' record you 're 
 a-goin' t' fasten on Bob Parker if I let ye, which 
 I'll be damned if I do is a passport ter good soci- 
 ety in the Black Hills. We're short on wicked pasts 
 an' long on hard hittin' an' quick shootin'. D'ye 
 git that?" 
 
 "That's all well enough," argued Atherton, "but 
 you " 
 
 ' ' To hell with yer ' buts ' ! " blazed Horton. " I 'm 
 pretty near out o' wind I was out o' patience with 
 you two varmints when I begun talkin' so I'm goin' 
 ter cut this short. If you fellers wanter enjoy 
 health, prosperity an' long life in this neck o' the 
 woods, don't ye open yer yap, either one o' ye, about 
 Bob Parker. D'ye hear?" 
 
 "But you are sworn to uphold the law, sir," ex- 
 postulated Atherton. 
 
 "There ye go, buttin' again! Ye '11 keep on with 
 yer fool 'buts' till ye hurt that ugly head o' yourn, 
 Mister," sneered Horton. "0' course, I'm sworn 
 to uphold the law, but I ain't sworn to uphold no
 
 452 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 low-lived sneaks like you fellers. Besides, I'm the 
 law in this partic'lar case an' I'm Bob Parker's 
 friend, an' don't you forgit it. If ye double-cross 
 him, I'll give ye another one o' them history cases 
 ter count on yer dirty fingers." 
 
 1 1 What ! ' ' Atherton indignantly exclaimed. * ' You 
 would dare to " 
 
 ' ' Dare f ' ' Horton broke in, ' ' Dare t Hell no ! There 
 wouldn't be any darin' to it. There's more'n one 
 way o ' gittin ' yer man an ' clearin ' the law an ' I 'm 
 not the only one that knows the game. There's a 
 dozen men right here in Deadwood, that's pretty 
 damned good at it an' they're all good friends o' 
 Bob's, don't forget that. Any one of 'em would 
 be tickled ter death ter pick a row with you. Ye 
 know the rest. Ye ain't none too pop'lar with the 
 people o' this town, anyhow, an' you'd be easy 
 meat." 
 
 "Mebbe you're just a case of a nice young man 
 that's fell inter bad cpmp'ny," he continued, turn- 
 ing to Gordon and critically inspecting him; "but 
 jest so as not ter show any partiality, you're in on 
 my remarks, Mr. Pencil-Pusher. What I said jest 
 now goes double. Savvy?" 
 
 Gordon apparently was too much embarrassed 
 to speak. He stood gazing dumbly at the sheriff. 
 
 "Got the buck fever, eh?" sneered Horton, with- 
 eringly. ' ' That 's good it may keep ye from makin ' 
 any fool breaks like yer side partner here's been 
 doin. By the way, young feller, I wonder if that 
 stuff ye said about Bob Parker ain't a pack o' 
 damned lies, anyhow. Let me see that book. ' ' 
 
 ' ' The book is my property, sir, ' ' expostulated the 
 suddenly aroused Gordon.
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSOES THE PEESS 453 
 
 1 'Give me that book!" thundered the sheriff, 
 extending his hand. 
 
 Completely cowed, the reporter went to the win- 
 dow and surrendered the volume of clippings. Hor- 
 ton quickly glanced through it, critically reviewing 
 the page that Gordon had exhibited to Atherton. 
 
 *| Well, what d'ye think o' that?" he ejaculated, 
 satirically. "That picture don't look no more like 
 Bob Parker than it does like me ! Good joke on Bob 
 ha, ha! How I will josh him about that carica- 
 toor. The feller that drew that ought ter be arrested 
 fer assault an' battery, an' mayhem. Why, it spoils 
 yer pretty book, sonny. ' ' 
 
 He calmly tore out the offending leaf. 
 
 "Here! what are you doing?" exclaimed the now 
 thoroughly exasperated Gordon. 
 
 "Oh," chuckled Horton, "I'm editin' copy an' 
 censorin' the press, that's all. Stuff like this is im- 
 moral an' very dangerous." 
 
 He crumpled up the leaf, stuffed it in his pocket 
 and proffered the book to its owner. 
 
 "Here, young feller, ye can have yer book now. 
 It's the only genuine expurgated edition of the Noo 
 York Herald." 
 
 The reporter angrily snatched the book from the 
 sheriff's hand and without a word sullenly returned 
 to his seat at the table. 
 
 "Such bad bringin' up!" commented Horton, de- 
 risively. "Now you two rats can hunt yer holes. 
 Ta, ta, gents!" 
 
 He left the veranda and started towards home, 
 when an afterthought struck him and he returned 
 to the window. 
 
 "I jest come back ter remark, that if I ever hear 
 o' either o' you fellers speakin' that little school-
 
 454 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ma'am's name agin, loud enough fer anybody ter 
 hear it, I'll cut off a real nice-lookin' pair o' ears 
 an' put 'em in my pocket. D'ye catch on?" 
 
 His duty done and his conscience thus relieved, the 
 honest fellow went towards home, suggestively 
 whistling the then popular air, * ' See that my grave 's 
 kept green." 
 
 "It'll be my play next, Mr. Tom Horton!" hissed 
 the infuriated Atherton, rising to his feet and gazing 
 threateningly after the sheriff. 
 
 "Pleasant party, that," commented the reporter. 
 
 Atherton did not answer and Gordon laughed vo- 
 ciferously, striking the table a sharp rap with his 
 knuckles. 
 
 "He did hand it to us for fair, didn't he? Say, 
 Atherton, on the level, we got just what was coming 
 to us, didn't we? That fellow is right, and you 
 know it. We are a couple of rats and you're in 
 the king row. Come, let 's have a drink ; I 'm all in, 
 and you look like hell sued for murder and likely to 
 lose the case." 
 
 Atherton obviously was furious at Gordon's sud- 
 den change of front, but followed him to the bar. 
 
 "So, Horton is right, is he, you damned turn- 
 coat?" sneered the promoter to himself, en route. 
 "He's right in just one thing there is more than 
 one way of getting your man and clearing the law. 
 When a man picks a quarrel with an escaped murd- 
 erer who has a price on his head and kills him, 
 there's no come-back. Thanks for the hunch, Tom 
 Horton." 
 
 As he set out the drinks, McGinnis, who had 
 heard the sheriff's parting shot, glanced at his huge 
 watch, and loudly remarked : 
 
 "Begorra! Oi thought it musht be pretty near
 
 THE SHERIFF CENSORS THE PRESS 455 
 
 toime t ' knock off, whin Oi saw Misther Horton lave 
 the windy. He knows more about shuttin' up toime 
 than inny wan in this town. When he says ' shut up ', 
 there's no use argyfyin' wid him. An' if he says ter 
 kape shut up, ye 'd betther listen. ' ' 
 
 McGinnis looked meaningly at his two guests who, 
 knowing that there were no closing laws in Dead- 
 wood, readily grasped the significance of the astute 
 Irishman's remarks.
 
 CHAPTER XXVII 
 
 AT THE LITTLE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 
 
 The Constitution follows the American flag 
 sometimes. The little red school-house follows it 
 always. 
 
 In these degenerate days, cold-hearted, unsenti- 
 mental vandals have advocated painting the little 
 school-house in more subdued colors. They even 
 have accomplished their diabolic purpose here and 
 there over this fair land of ours, but they never 
 can quite conceal the historic fact that the corner- 
 stone of our national progress has been painted red, 
 so far back in the dim and misty past that the mem- 
 ory of man dare not tackle the problem of when and 
 where it was anything but red. 
 
 Great men and famous women, mighty thoughts, 
 daring deeds, human comedies and tragedies, fas- 
 cinating romances, social upheavals, national dramas 
 things of human interest by the hundred, have 
 been cradled in the little red school-house. Espec- 
 ially has it been the cradle of sweet romance. 
 
 Who that ever attended the country school, has 
 forgotten that first boyhood's sweetheart in pina- 
 fores with yellow hair in braids whose books he 
 carried o' mornings? And there are tender mem- 
 ories of another kind : Who does not remember the 
 sting of hickory, on rear or flank, and the dull aches 
 and smarting palms inflicted by the merciless ferule I
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 457 
 
 The school-house at Deadwood was an especially 
 diminutive and more than usually glaring specimen 
 of the genus. It was a crude one-story structure 
 with an abundance of small, square-paned, old-fash- 
 ioned windows, destitute of blinds, that peered at 
 one like so many curious, inquiring eyes. 
 
 The building stood at a fork of the main road, 
 the lesser "tine" of which wound most picturesque- 
 ly to the rear of the school-house, and disappeared 
 among the stern and rugged hills that flanked the 
 highway and formed the background of the school 
 site. These hills were sparsely covered with verdure 
 mainly scrub-oaks and scraggly pines. 
 
 At one corner and in front of the school-house 
 was a majestic, time-worn, weather-beaten oak, at 
 the foot of which lay a huge lichen-covered boulder, 
 framed by a few shrubs of various kinds. 
 
 At the base of the boulder, emerging from be- 
 neath it, a spring of crystal clearness sparkled and 
 bubbled, the overflow tinkling musically as it ran 
 athwart the road beneath a little rustic bridge and 
 tumbled on its frolicsome way over the rocks and 
 down the hill on the opposite side of the highway. 
 Secured to the tree by a long chain, was a large rusty 
 tin cup, the use of which always is dangerous in all 
 communities and positively criminal in some. 
 
 In front of the building, which stood a little re- 
 moved from the road, was what once was a plot of 
 grass. This had been worn bare by erosion with 
 many childish feet. 
 
 Surrounding the school-house was a sparse grove 
 of small trees, immediately behind and above which 
 towered a frowning mass of rock of variegated 
 colors, that looked as if it would require but little
 
 458 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 force to dislodge it and send it crashing upon the 
 tiny devoted structure beneath. 
 
 Time was when a description of the fauna of the 
 little grove surrounding the Deadwood school-house 
 would have been like the Irishman's immortal des- 
 cription of the snakes in Ireland there was none. 
 School boys and fauna do not mix at least to the 
 advantage of the fauna and prior to Miss Weather- 
 son's advent, every furred and feathered creature 
 of the country round about gave the school-house, 
 and even its remote environments, a wide berth. 
 
 The new school mistress had a fondness for wild 
 creatures, and as she soon gained the respect and 
 affection of her pupils, she finally albeit with some 
 difficulty, it must be admitted succeeded in curbing 
 the natural propensity of the boys of the school to 
 destroy everything living that was not human, which 
 came within stone or club-shot. 
 
 Soon after the boys had been pledged to innocuous 
 observation, vain longings and itching fingers, as 
 they viewed the birds and squirrels that had been 
 so long exiled from the vicinity, the little creatures 
 returned, and by their sweet songs and playful an- 
 tics added much to the attractiveness of the school 
 surroundings. 
 
 School was over for the day and the romping, 
 happy younger children had wended their frolicsome 
 way homeward, leaving the older ones to follow 
 more sedately and leisurely. 
 
 Ellen McGinnis remained after the other scholars 
 had departed, waiting for the teacher to finish her 
 duties, so that the two might go home together. 
 
 As the last of her schoolfellows disappeared down 
 the road, the young girl appeared at the door of
 
 AT THE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 459 
 
 the school-house, bonneted and swinging a bundle of 
 books by the strap. She stood for a moment on the 
 threshold, where she soon was joined by the teacher. 
 
 "It is very good of you to wait for me every day 
 as you do, Ellen, dear," said Miss Weatherson, 
 affectionately putting her arm around her favorite 
 pupil's waist. 
 
 "Oh, I don't mind, Miss Weatherson. I love to 
 be with you after all the others have gone. It seems 
 then, somehow, as if we were you know " 
 
 "Chums, dear?" smiled the teacher, understand- 
 ingly. 
 
 "Yes 'm. You see, I never had any girl chums, 
 and there was only mother to talk to when I wanted 
 to talk to women folks." 
 
 The two slowly walked to the boulder in front of 
 the school-house, and Ellen, removing her sunbon- 
 net and throwing it upon the ground nearby, seated 
 herself upon the mossy rock. 
 
 "It's awfully nice to wait out here for you," she 
 said happily, swinging her legs by way of empha- 
 sis. It's not a bit lonesome. Why, the other day 
 when I was waiting for you, a big, brown fox-squir- 
 rel with a great bushy tail came out on a branch 
 of that big tree over yonder, and talked to me the 
 longest time! And there's a tiny little chipmunk, 
 and a red-headed woodpecker, and a big yellow-ham- 
 mer living up there somewhere, and it's such fun to 
 sit out here and hear them calling each other names 
 just like bad children." 
 
 "I'm afraid, dear," the teacher gently remarked, 
 "that you'll miss the squirrels and the birds, and 
 those sombre old hills, when you have gone east 
 to that wonderful school." 
 
 "Somehow, teacher," rejoined the girl, soberly,
 
 460 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "the idea of being rich doesn't seem so grand as 
 it did at first. The night Mr. Parker told us about 
 the mine, I was so happy I couldn't sleep, but the 
 next morning, and all day long, ever since well, 
 it gives me the queerest feeling right here, in the 
 pit of my stomach, every time I think about going 
 away from Deadwood and you, and the school and 
 and" 
 
 "And some other things that interest young girls. 
 For instance " and Miss Weatherson glanced amus- 
 edly down the road. 
 
 Ellen followed the teacher's gaze and saw Smith- 
 ers, who was just stepping into view from behind 
 the trees at a turn of the road a short distance away. 
 He saw the ladies, hesitated, and finally stopped, 
 partially concealed by a tree, to adjust his monocle. 
 
 "I was just thinking of that very person," pouted 
 the girl, spiritedly, "but I'm very angry with him. 
 Why, I haven't even spoken to him for two whole 
 weeks!" 
 
 Miss Weatherson laughed teasingly as she re- 
 plied : 
 
 "Well, dear, if that is the case, I'll go back to my 
 work and give you a chance to discipline him. Be- 
 ing a male person, he probably deserves it, on gener- 
 al principles. ' ' 
 
 She smilingly re-entered the school-house and 
 closed the door behind her, just as Smithers, having 
 painstakingly arranged his eye-glass, stepped into 
 full view and with a doubtful air, as if he were not 
 quite sure of a cordial reception, approached the 
 young girl. 
 
 Ellen ostentatiously took a book from her bundle 
 &nd pretended to be reading it, rather inconsistently 
 holding it upside down.
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 461 
 
 "Ah! There you are, Miss Ellen!" he ventured, 
 cautiously. 
 
 She tossed her head and turned her face away 
 from him. 
 
 "Oh, I say now, really, I " 
 
 The Irish lassie merely shrugged her shoulders, 
 readjusted herself on the boulder and continued with 
 her obvious pretense of reading. 
 
 "By Jove!" ejaculated the Englishman, "I begin 
 to think I'm intrudin' a bit, don'tcher know I 
 really do." 
 
 "What was that funny noise, I wonder?" said 
 Ellen, looking about her as if searching for some- 
 thing. 
 
 Smithers carefully, adjusted his monocle : 
 
 "My word! But that's a bally joke. It really is, 
 you know. ' ' 
 
 "My goodness!" she exclaimed, as if noticing 
 him for the first time, " it 's you, is it I " 
 
 "You surely haven't forgotten me voice, have 
 you? Keally, now." 
 
 "No," she retorted spunkily, "but I've been trying 
 to ever since that evening two weeks ago when you 
 were intoxicated. You've a lot of cheek to speak to 
 me again, sir. I don't want anything more to do 
 with you, so there now ! ' ' 
 
 "But I say, now really," he said penitently, "you 
 musn't be too hard on a poor chap. It wasn't quite 
 all my fault, you know. I never was bowled over 
 before in all me life. It was the bloomin' rye, you 
 know. I called for Bass, an' the blawsted bar-keeper 
 handed me out nothin' but spirits, don'tcher know, 
 an' I had to keep me end up." 
 
 "Nobody else was intoxicated," she scornfully
 
 462 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 asserted; "I have my opinion of a tenderfoot that 
 will let a lot of rough-neck miners get him drunk ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, but those bloomin' fellahs have copper 
 linin's, an' I'm not acclimated, you know. When 
 I get on me sea legs, I'll " 
 
 "You will, will you?" flashed Ellen, indignantly; 
 "well, until you do get your sea legs, and some 
 sense along with them, you'll either keep out of the 
 way of those fellows or out of mine. ' ' 
 
 "But, I say," he pleaded humbly; "if I promise 
 not to get bowled over again, will you forgive me 
 what?" 
 
 * ' Sure I will ! ' ' laughed the girl. Come here, you 
 silly, ' ' and the little witch made room for him on the 
 boulder. 
 
 Smithers readjusted his monocle and with great 
 dignity seated himself beside her. 
 
 "Thanks, awfully, Miss Ellen." 
 
 "Well, anyhow," she said cheerily, kicking her 
 small feet and plump legs against the boulder, "the 
 boys can't call you a tenderfoot any more." 
 
 "I should think not, really," he answered, proudly. 
 "I've been jolly well baptized a citizen of Dead wood 
 My word ! I really have, don 'tcher know. ' ' 
 
 "All right, sir," she laughed, "but once is enough. 
 Too many baptisms are bad for one." 
 
 "An' do you really care what happens to me, Miss 
 Ellen?" he asked, snuggling up to the young girl and 
 trying to take her hand, in awkwardly sentimental 
 fashion. 
 
 With a fine display of offended dignity, she ab- 
 ruptly withdrew her hand and moved to the farther 
 side of the boulder. 
 
 "There you go again ! Haven't I told you a dozen 
 times that I'm too young to be made love to?"
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 463 
 
 Smithers curiously gazed at her through his mon- 
 ocle. 
 
 "My word! Have you now, really? But would 
 you mind growin ' up a bit ! " 
 
 "See here, Mr. Smithers," she chaffed, mischiev- 
 ously, "I'm going away to school in the east. While 
 I'm gone and growing up you can talk it over 
 with father and," she giggled, "with mother." 
 
 "Oh, I say now, really! That's a bit stiff, you 
 know. Cawn't I come to some understandin' with 
 your father? I never could talk to married women. 
 They don't seem to take to me at all kindly, don'tcher 
 know. ' ' 
 
 She pointed a scornful finger at him. 
 
 * ' Fraidy cat ! Fraidy cat ! 
 
 "But I'm not afraid, only" 
 
 "Only you are 'rawther'," she mocked. 
 
 "Well, suppose I do win your mother over how 
 about you?" 
 
 "If you can win mother over," she laughed merri- 
 ly, "why well, you can make love to me all you 
 want to when I come back and I'll take care of 
 Dad." 
 
 "It's a bargain, Miss Ellen! an' I'm goin' to win. 
 Any man that 's been baptized a citizen o ' Deadwood, 
 can bally well face anything what ? ' ' 
 
 "Perhaps," she gravely replied, "but before you 
 face Ma, you'd better shed your boiled shirt and 
 get to work looking for a strike. And you might 
 lose that piece of window glass from your eye, and 
 fix up your accent a little. They don't make a hit 
 with Ma she's Irish, you know." 
 
 "Is she, really? How extraor'nary! But, I say, 
 I've been thinkin' it over a bit already, an' I think
 
 464 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 that perhaps you're right. Here goes me bloomin' 
 monocle ! ' ' 
 
 He removed the glass from his eye, unfastened 
 the narrow ribbon that secured it to the lapel of his 
 coat, and was about to dash the bit of glass against 
 the boulder, when Ellen stayed his hand and ap- 
 propriated it. 
 
 "That's my property, if you please. I want to 
 keep it to remind you of how you used to look before 
 you became civilized," and she suspended the mon- 
 ocle about her own neck. 
 
 "There," she gibed, archly, "little white squaw 
 got heap scalp. And now that you begin to look hu- 
 man, what else are you going to do to make good! 
 How about the 'strike'?" 
 
 "I was about to tell you, Miss Ellen, that I've 
 been talkin' a bit with Mr. Parker, an' by Jove! 
 we're goin' to" 
 
 ' ' Oh ! ' ' exclaimed the girl, standing down from the 
 boulder. "Here he is now! Howdy, Mr. Parker?" 
 
 "Hello there, little girl! Hello, Smithers! and 
 what are you up to now playing Mary's little 
 lamb?" 
 
 "I don't quite understand you, Mr. Parker," and 
 the Englishman bewilderedly felt for his absent mon- 
 ocle. 
 
 "Why," laughed Parker, winking at Ellen, who 
 was trying to preserve her gravity, "the lamb used 
 to stick around till Mary came out of school." 
 
 "Did he, really? That was rawther clever of him. 
 But I never was keen on mutton, don'tcher know." 
 
 "Glad to hear you're not a cannibal, Smithers," 
 remarked Parker, waggishly. "Has Miss Weather- 
 son gone home, Ellen?" 
 
 "No, sir I'm waiting for her."
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 465 
 
 11 Ellen, my child," he said, with mock gravity, 
 "I'm astonished and grieved at the way yon mix 
 your tenses! I really must speak to your teacher 
 about it. What you meant to say was, that you were 
 waiting for her. Am I correct I ' ' 
 
 "No, sir," she giggled. "I was waiting for her. 
 Come, Mr. Smithers ; you may take me for a walk. ' ' 
 
 She grasped the the Englishman by the hand and 
 proceeded to drag him away down the road towards 
 town. 
 
 "But, I say," sputtered Smithers, "I want to 
 speak to Mr. Parker about " 
 
 "That will keep, Smithers," said Parker. "Quit 
 your bleating and trot along with Mary. I '11 see you 
 about the claim tomorrow." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully, old chap!" 
 
 As she led away her captive, Ellen turned and 
 laughed. "Good luck, Mr. Parker," she called, 
 throwing him a kiss. 
 
 "You angel!" he cried, returning the aerial sal- 
 utation. 
 
 "Luck!" he exclaimed, bitterly. "Luck! I feel 
 as if I was going to my own funeral as I am, very 
 nearly. Luck ! Humph ! I wouldn 't know it if I met 
 it in the street, tagged and ready for delivery. I'm 
 like the fellow who had nothing but a two-tined fork 
 when it was raining soup." 
 
 He hesitated a moment, then approaching the 
 school-house, rapped on the door and stood expec- 
 tant. 
 
 The school-teacher appeared at the door and cor- 
 dially welcomed him. 
 
 "You see, Miss Weatherspn," he said, merrily, 
 "I'm getting the school habit." 
 
 "You're not a very dutiful scholar at that, sir,"
 
 466 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 she chided, raising a playfully admonishing finger. 
 "You haven't called forme for ages. Don't you know 
 that your friend, Mr. Horton, hasn 't nearly so many 
 black marks as I have put down opposite your name I 
 He has been at school several times since your last 
 attendance." 
 
 "I will admit that Tom is a much more faithful 
 cavalier than I, Miss Weatherson," he gravely re- 
 plied. 
 
 "You ought to be ashamed to let him surpass you 
 in gallantry, sir," she said, jocosely. 
 
 "I suppose I must expect a note to my parents 
 if I don't 'do better," he laughed. 
 
 "The hickory, sir." 
 
 "So bad as that? Come, I must get away from 
 here! Are you ready to go home!" 
 
 "Not quite, I have some examination papers to 
 correct before I go. ' ' 
 
 "Bother the papers ! Why not attend to them af- 
 ter dinner?" 
 
 "Ah! but I start a preparatory school this even- 
 ing," she rejoined, with a smile. "I am going to 
 help Ellen to get ready for that wonderful school 
 in the east." 
 
 "Then she really is going?" 
 
 "She surely is." 
 
 "Well, the McGinnises certainly can 'go some' 
 when they get started. ' ' 
 
 "You mean Mrs. McGinnis can 'go some'," she 
 laughed. 
 
 "I accept the amendment," he smilingly returned, 
 bowing low. "She is a woman of action, all right 
 and, by the way, it didn't take her long to close 
 the deal when I got rid of Atherton and produced 
 a real buyer for the mine. Possibly she might have
 
 AT THE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 467 
 
 done better had she waited, but she is something of 
 a sure-thing player, herself, once she gets going. 
 
 1 'But seriously, Miss Weatherson," he continued, 
 looking at the sky, "why not put your work aside; 
 at least for a little while? It is early yet and you 
 are not so very far from home. Suppose we sit on 
 that picturesque boulder and chat and enjoy a lit- 
 tle of the wonderful sunset that is almost due." 
 
 "Alas! those unfortunate examination papers!" 
 she sighed, smilingly. 
 
 "It is something to have cut out even those papers 
 for a short time," he said, following her to a seat 
 on the boulder. 
 
 They had chatted about things commonplace for 
 some time when he asked, abruptly : 
 
 "Miss Weatherson, what could have impelled a 
 woman like you to come to this rough pioneer town?" 
 
 "Briefly necessity," she quietly rejoined. "I 
 am an only child. My mother died when I was but 
 ten years of age. My father was a wealthy man. 
 He retired from business some years ago, but he 
 still was ambitious. His mind still was active and 
 his spirit grew restless. He was drawn into specu- 
 lation, lost everything he had and died broken- 
 hearted. I had to do something. I was getting on 
 in a literary way and could have made a success of 
 it in time, but well, necessity will not wait on 
 commercial literary appreciation, and besides, Itha- 
 ca was not a pleasant place in which to live, after 
 our money took wings. Our friends " 
 
 "Lost their eyesight, eh?" he interjected, cyni- 
 cally. 
 
 "Well," she laughed, "possibly their eyesight 
 was all right, but father and I had shrunk so that 
 they couldn't see us."
 
 468 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "But why did you select the Black Hills, of all 
 places, for your struggle with the world?" 
 
 "Because I wanted to try the west. Deadwood is 
 the west, and typifies the first heart-beats of a na- 
 tion. I have grown to love the western country, 
 because its people are well, just human, that's all. 
 The west is America. It is the butterfly. The east 
 is the discarded cocoon." 
 
 "And you really like the west its plain people 
 and its rough ways?" 
 
 "Yes," she replied, earnestly, "I adore them. 
 Here men are gauged by what they are not by what 
 they have. The people I meet are not worrying 
 about their family trees. The lives of the westerners 
 begin where they begin. Here men are men and 
 women are women. The poor creatures called 'la- 
 dies', by way of classification, are kept away from 
 respectable women. Even the professional gamblers 
 are labelled they wear frock coats and silk hats, 
 so that all men may know them for what they are. 
 There are no whited sepulchers in the fine free air 
 of the western frontier. Rowdies and criminals can 
 take their choice, be men or " 
 
 "Or corpses, eh?" finished Parker, sententiously. 
 You're right our social lines are pretty closely 
 drawn. But I often have thought how trying your 
 position must be. The Miners' Rest is a rather 
 queer place for a woman reared as you have been. ' ' 
 
 "No, 'queer' is not the word," she enthused, "just 
 wonderful! I am quite as safe there as I was in 
 my father's house safer, perhaps, for social dis- 
 tinctions are not always moral distinctions. I've 
 been accosted by well-dressed men in the Fifth Av- 
 enue Hotel even in the streets of Albany during 
 my visits there. Heaven help the man who offers a
 
 AT THE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 469 
 
 woman an insult in Deadwood! There's only a 
 screen between the bar-room and the hotel office 
 at the Miners ' Eest. A real partition might be use- 
 ful in protecting the feelings of the miners that con- 
 gregate at the bar they are comically bashful. It 
 is not needed to protect from rudeness the women 
 of the household or their women guests. They have 
 as many brothers to protect them as there happen 
 to be men in the house. I fear that a dress suit 
 never will look good to me again." 
 
 "You make out a good case for the men," he re- 
 marked, amusedly, "but how about the women?" 
 
 "They are worthy mates, sisters, daughters and 
 mothers of western men," she continued, warmly. 
 "Why, there's more sincerity and kindheartedness 
 in Mrs. McGinnis's little finger, peppery as she is, 
 than in the entire bodies of any dozen society women 
 you ever met in in " 
 
 She looked at him inquiringly. 
 
 "In the east, Miss Weatherson," he responded, 
 quietly. 
 
 "She noted the evasion and her face assumed a 
 puzzled expression. Her companion relieved the 
 situation by pointing to the sky. 
 
 "See!" he said, "the red and crimson fires are 
 beginning to glow in the west! The sun looks like 
 a huge ball of incandescent copper!" 
 
 "Isn't it wonderful?" she exclaimed, ecstatic- 
 ally. 
 
 "Such sunsets are so wonderful," he answered, 
 pensively, "that I sometimes suspect that the an- 
 cient sun-worshipers builded wiser than they knew. 
 Our own aborigines too, perhaps, divined the arcan- 
 um when the * Great Sun Father', came into their re- 
 ligion. Who knows ? ' *
 
 470 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 They sat without speaking for a while, gazing at 
 the beautiful color effects in the western heavens. 
 He finally broke the silence. 
 
 "Miss Weatherson, at the risk of being consid- 
 ered impertinent, I am going to ask you a question." 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 "Do you think you eventually will prove your 
 admiration of western men by marrying one of 
 them?" 
 
 She smiled quizzically. 
 
 "Your question is purely impersonal, of course 
 from your side. ' ' 
 
 He laughed, rather forcedly, she thought. 
 
 "In all modesty," he replied, "it must be imper- 
 sonal. To save my face, after your warm eulogy of 
 western men, I perforce must crawl back into my 
 cocoon and be an easterner again." 
 
 "Well," she answered, with an obvious pretense 
 of seriousness, "since you presume to inquire into 
 my matrimonial plans, I'll tell you a great secret; I 
 -don 't know. ' ' 
 
 "Ah! But you may have to know before you get 
 through," he said, gravely. Half the men in town 
 already are crazy about you." 
 
 She tossed her head with affected indignation. 
 
 "I like your impudence, sir! Pray, what is the 
 matter with the other half?" 
 
 "Pshaw!" he laughed, "they're all too old, too 
 young, or already married." 
 
 "That's better," she said, lightly "You wrig- 
 gled out of that so cleverly that I am going to for- 
 give you for discounting my attractions." 
 
 "Thank you. And now," he went on, soberly; 
 "I'm going to confess that I was only half jesting 
 when I said that you shortly would have to decide
 
 AT THE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 471 
 
 whether or not you were going to marry a western 
 man. Miss Weatherson, you soon will have to come 
 to a decision, regarding one man at least. ' ' 
 
 She looked at him in wonderment. 
 
 "A decision!" she exclaimed; "one man! Why, 
 I don't quite get your meaning." 
 
 He stood down from the boulder and gazed at her 
 intently for a brief space. 
 
 "Don't misunderstand me, Miss Weatherson," 
 he said, earnestly, "and please don't think me im- 
 pertinent. A certain man is deeply, sincerely in 
 love with you. He is a king among men, and as 
 brave as a lion in most things, but he's bashful 
 as a girl. He is my best friend, and well, ' ' he went 
 on desperately, "I don't like to see him eating his 
 own heart out. I want to help him to win or help 
 him to be cured. There is no middle ground for a 
 man like him. ' ' 
 
 "What?" she demanded, in amazement, "do you 
 mean to say that that one of your friends is in love 
 with me doesn't know where he stands and hasn't 
 the courage to find out f ' ' 
 
 "That is precisely what I mean." 
 
 "Why, how absurd!" 
 
 "Absurd perhaps, but true, nevertheless and not 
 wholly without precedent, " he returned, dryly. "You 
 do not yet quite understand the western man after 
 all, Miss Weatherson. There's another quality that 
 you did not mention in your eulogy he rarely is 
 conceited enough to think that to love a woman is 
 to win her. He sometimes is like Moses on Mount 
 Pisgah." 
 
 "And who is this modest paragon?" she queried, 
 smilingly. 
 
 ' * Tom Horton but he 's all man, and no paragon. ' '
 
 472 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "What! Tom Horton the sheriff?" she gasped. 
 
 "Yes, Tom Horton one of the best fellows that 
 ever lived." 
 
 "W why, you astonish me ! I never thought " 
 
 "Probably not," he replied, quietly, "Tom is not 
 the man to wear his heart on his sleeve, or to make 
 false moves, but lie's been doing a lot of thinking 
 just the same." 
 
 "But I'm not the least interested in Mr. Horton, 
 save as a friend, and have given him absolutely no 
 encouragement in any way. I never for a moment 
 suspected that he was becoming interested in that 
 fashion. I admire him greatly and have enjoyed his 
 society very much, but as for anything more " 
 
 "Why not?" he argued, persuasively, "Tom's a 
 fine fellow he 's popular everybody likes him he 's 
 prosperous and absolutely on the square. He's the 
 very flower of western manhood. He loves you 
 dearly he's not the man to do anything by halves. 
 As for good looks, well, if I were a woman, I 'd think 
 twice before I turned him down. Why, I really took 
 it for granted that you loved him. The Lord only 
 knows how he would take it if he knew that I was 
 butting in! But, if you'll forgive me, I'll take a 
 chance on dear old Tom. ' ' 
 
 She smiled enigmatically and laid her hand on his 
 arm. 
 
 "I do forgive you." 
 
 * * Then you really understand ! " he asked, feeling- 
 ly. 
 
 There was a warm light in her eyes that told a 
 world-old story as she answered slowly. 
 
 "Yes, I think I understand. You plead eloquently, 
 and I believe that all you say of your friend is true, 
 but, you see, I do not love him. ' '
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 473 
 
 " Merely because you never have thought of him 
 in that way," he urged, half-heartedly, knowing the 
 while the absurdity of his argument. "That is an 
 impediment which can readily be cured now that 
 you will think about him. Time and propinquity ac- 
 complish wonders. ' ' 
 
 The young woman laughed heartily at his trans- 
 parent disingenuousness. 
 
 "What indifference hath kept apart," she par- 
 aphrased, "let no man put together. Take my ad- 
 vice, Mr. Parker ; never open a matrimonial bureau. 
 The sort of thing you are advocating doesn't work, 
 or, rather, it is a double-edged sword that cuts both 
 ways as the records of the divorce courts prove." 
 
 "But, if there's nobody else and you'll sit in the 
 game," he earnestly insisted, "it will work all right 
 in this case." 
 
 "And what if there is somebody else?" 
 
 "Then I'm ready to climb the tallest tree that 
 you may select, and no questions asked. It's a hope- 
 less case." 
 
 "It surely is for Mr. Horton," she asserted, with 
 unmistakable positiveness. 
 
 "I'm mighty sorry there's somebody else," he 
 remarked, gloomily. 
 
 She looked at him quizzically for a space. 
 
 "And why should you be sorry?" she inquired, 
 gently. 
 
 "Because," he faltered, "because " 
 
 "A woman's reason," the young woman mischiev- 
 ously interrupted. 
 
 "No, by heaven!" he contradicted. "A man's 
 reason. I am sorry because I beg your pardon, 
 Miss Weatherson, I "
 
 474 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Granted," she said, archly, "go on John Al- 
 den." 
 
 He looked at her in astonishment which they both 
 knew was more than half hypocritical. She answered 
 the question that was coming, before he really had 
 formulated it. 
 
 "A woman always knows," she murmured, softly, 
 ' ' if she cares to know. This is different you are not 
 Mr. Horton." 
 
 He resumed his seat beside her. 
 
 "And you really cared to know?" he asked. 
 
 "Yes, I cared." 
 
 There was silence for a brief moment, she wait- 
 ing expectantly, and he looked toward the kaleido- 
 scopic sky and seriously communing with himself. 
 He suddenly sprang to his feet, his face set in lines 
 of stern resolution. 
 
 "I must not I will not go on! I have said too 
 much already!" 
 
 She gazed at him tenderly, and his softening was 
 as sudden as was his previous determination to re- 
 sist the inevitable. He took both her hands in his 
 own. 
 
 "I have no right to go on Priscilla," he said, 
 moodily. 
 
 "And why have you not the right?" she rejoined, 
 earnestly. * ' Can you not eliminate your friend, Hor- 
 ton, from the situation? Even loyalty and friend- 
 ship can be carried too far to the point of fanati- 
 cism. ' ' 
 
 "Oh, it is not that!" he protested, emphatically. 
 "So long as I thought Tom was the bright particular 
 star, I would have been a fool, as well as a disloyal 
 friend, if I had spoken. With my friend out of the 
 running I would have much to say to you, only ' 
 
 1 1
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 475 
 
 "Only what?" she whispered, tensely waiting. 
 
 He abruptly released her hands and moved away 
 from her. 
 
 "I am not worthy to even speak to a woman like 
 you ! " he cried, fiercely. 
 
 She sprang lightly to the ground and stood beside 
 him. 
 
 "Not worthy!" she exclaimed, in wide-eyed as- 
 tonishment. "Not worthy! Why are you not wor- 
 thy?" 
 
 "There's no use postponing the inevitable, Miss 
 Weatherson," he answered, resolutely. "You will 
 have to know sooner or later and I may as well tell 
 you now it is only fair. I want you to know just 
 who and what I am, and how impossible it is that 
 even our friendship can continue. I want you to 
 know this more especially, because I, knowing that 
 you know, never will dare to think of you again. 
 I'll tell you everything, and prove to you that my 
 life is but a mass of wreckage prove to you that 1 
 have no right to associate with a noble woman like 
 yourself, much less drag her into the life of a 
 miserable outcast." 
 
 She listened in helpless amazement, and when he 
 had done was speechless for a moment. 
 
 1 1 You ! ' ' she exclaimed, recovering herself. * ' You, 
 an outcast ! ' ' 
 
 He bowed his head and replied, despondently, 
 "Yes, an outcast with a brand upon him." 
 
 He raised his head, with quick decision, and, taking 
 a step nearer, faced her squarely. 
 
 "You visited Sing Sing penitentiary a few months 
 ago, in company with your father. You were shown 
 about the prison by a trusty. ' ' 
 
 "Yes, the poor fellow!" she exclaimed, excitedly.
 
 476 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "He escaped while escorting us around the prison, 
 was wounded by the guards, sprang into the river 
 and was drowned. Oh ! it was an awful experience ! ' ' 
 She shuddered at the unpleasant recollection. 
 
 "Look at me closely, Miss Weatherson," he said, 
 tensely, "did you ever see me before you came to 
 Deadwood?" 
 
 "Why, no," she replied in wonderment. 
 
 "Look again," he said, with grim persistence. 
 "Imagine me with my hair cut short, my face shaved, 
 and wearing a rusty brown suit of clothes. Think 
 think hard!" 
 
 "I don't in the least understand you," said the 
 young woman, in complete bewilderment. "But how 
 did you know about that visit to the prison?" she 
 suddenly ejaculated, in profound astonishment. 
 
 "Liberty, hair and respectable raiment make a 
 wonderful change in a man, Miss Weatherson." 
 
 * ' What ! You f you were that that ' ' 
 
 "I was that convict that jail bird Trusty No. 
 515, Miss Weatherson." 
 
 "And you were not drowned !" she exclaimed with 
 great emotion. 
 
 * ' Obviously not, more 's the pity, ' ' he returned, cyn- 
 ically. "I saved my number, which doesn't count 
 for much when a fellow is branded as an escaped 
 murderer and has a price on his head. ' ' 
 
 "But you were innocent," she said, confidently. 
 
 "Yes I was jobbed. I interfered in a fight be- 
 tween some drunken Italian laborers on a piece of 
 railroad construction work, of which I was superin- 
 tendent. In the fracas a man was killed the killing 
 was sworn onto me and I went up the river. The 
 story is short, but not sweet. ' '
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 477 
 
 "You say you were ' jobbed' What do you 
 mean ? ' ' 
 
 "I mean," he replied, gloomily, "that a plot was 
 laid to get me out of the way. The quarrel among 
 the laborers furnished the opportunity. The Itali- 
 ans were crazy drunk when the unfortunate affair 
 happened. One of the conspirators incited the brawl, 
 or at least plied the men with liquor and was him- 
 self in the mix-up. He accused me of firing the fatal 
 shot. The brawlers had drawn weapons, and I like 
 a fool had drawn my own revolver in the hope of in- 
 timidating them. In the fight my pistol was acciden- 
 tally discharged. The rest was easy ; the Italians were 
 only too glad to support the charge against me and 
 thereby save themselves from rigid investigation." 
 
 The young woman was horror-stricken. 
 
 "And some enemy actually laid that awful trap 
 for you!" 
 
 "Yes, Bull Hennessy, the man whose head I 
 tried to break when I escaped, and who," he added 
 vengefully, "was lucky enough to recover from the 
 blow I gave him the contemptible hound!" 
 
 "But why did Hennessy do such an awful thing?" 
 
 "Get well?" he asked, satirically, "or put up the 
 job on me? If you mean the former, he got well 
 merely because the devil looks after his children. 
 If you mean the latter, he was jealous of me, and 
 without cause." 
 
 "Surely," she said, hopefully, taking his hand in 
 hers, "there must be some way to prove your in- 
 nocence. ' ' 
 
 "There's no way," he rejoined, dejectedly, gen- 
 tly withdrawing his hand. "I would rather be a 
 hunted beast and free, than taken back to prison. 
 The slightest move in the direction of self-vindica-
 
 478 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 tion would send me back to Sing Sing. There are 
 only three persons who could prove me innocent 
 Bull Hennessy, the thug he hired to job me, and 
 a fellow-prisoner in the pen. None of them would 
 dare say a word. The convict, Pete Johnson, was 
 my fellow-trusty. It was from him that I learned 
 of the plot that sent me to prison. I begged him 
 to testify in my behalf, but he refused. He naturally 
 was loyal to his order. Then, too, he dared not be- 
 tray Hennessy and his hired thug." 
 
 "But why could you not tell your story to the au- 
 thorities?" she queried, eagerly. 
 
 "The authorities!" he exclaimed, contemptuous- 
 ly. "Why did I not complain to them? Simply be- 
 cause I was a convict. An accused man's word does 
 not go far, and what show has a convicted man a 
 jail-bird? I almost had sunk into indifference and 
 complete apathy when I learned the truth, and then 
 God ! how I wanted to be free ! I had no plans, 
 but oh! I was mad for liberty! When I saw you 
 that day in the prison and heard your voice, the 
 world I had lost, all that I had been and all that life 
 once meant to me, recurred to my mind in an over- 
 whelming flood of recollection. When I saw that 
 gate open, I had an almost maniacal impulse to es- 
 cape. You know what happened. 
 
 "When I rose to the surface after plunging into 
 the river, I found myself beneath a floating mass of 
 wreckage that had drifted in shore. I remained 
 concealed beneath it until dark. I then made for the 
 railroad, swung under a passing freight train and 
 took my first degree as a tramp by riding to New 
 York on a brake-beam. I did not dare go near my 
 mother, for I knew the police surely would be watch- 
 ing her home and," he sighed, "I never saw her
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 479 
 
 again. I procured a change of clothing by sneaking 
 down to the Bowery, posing as an escaped crook and 
 enlisting the sympathies of my supposed kind by 
 playing up my acquaintance with my fellow-trusty, 
 Stubby. 
 
 "I came to Deadwood, and Robert Parkyn since 
 has been a memory which I have tried hard to forget. 
 Indeed, I almost had forgotten it, when you once 
 more came into my life you, whom also I vainly had 
 tried to forget." 
 
 "But how did you manage to work your way out 
 here?" 
 
 "I didn't work my way, I paid it. I am not proud 
 of the way I obtained the money, but necessity knew 
 no law and the money was hard and honestly earned. 
 Incidentally I made good with the crooks who hid 
 me from the police. I went against a pugilistic 
 champion at Harry Hill 's and received two hundred 
 dollars for staying four rounds. He taught me the 
 difference between a professional and an amateur, 
 but as I got both the purse and the lesson, I was 
 satisfied to take the beating." 
 
 "And you really remembered me?" she asked, 
 softly. 
 
 "Remembered you? I have worn your image in my 
 heart ever since I escaped from that hell on the Hud- 
 son and long before. ' ' 
 
 He took from his pocket a card case, and from it 
 an old and yellowed leaf of a magazine. 
 
 "Here is your picture, which I cut from a maga- 
 zine and had carried for months before the events 
 that put me in prison. You can imagine the emo- 
 tion which rent me when I saw you. Your picture, 
 with my dear old mother's, lay next to my heart at 
 that very moment. It has lain there ever since. I
 
 480 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 never have had the courage to destroy it, as much as 
 I desired to forget. You typified the life I had lost 
 the life that rightfully belonged to me the hap- 
 piness that might have been mine." 
 
 He paused for a moment, overcome by a flood of 
 emotions. Pulling himself together, he continued: 
 
 "Your face and the sound of your voice brought 
 it all back to me that day in the prison. They brought 
 it all back to me here, but I knew the hopelessness 
 of it all, and day after day I have resolved to do the 
 only thing left for me to do and as often have I 
 failed in my resolve." 
 
 "What do you mean?" she demanded, looking at 
 him anxiously. 
 
 "Not that," he answered, reassuringly. "I am 
 not a coward. I mean that I must move on." 
 
 "Move on? Surely you would not leave Dead- 
 wood!" she exclaimed, in alarm. 
 
 "Yes it is the only logical thing to do." 
 
 She placed both her hands persuasively on his 
 shoulders and gazed earnestly into his eyes. 
 
 "But this is the west, Eobert Parkyn," she plead- 
 ed. "You know my creed my faith in the west and 
 its people. Why not try to feel that your life, and 
 mine our life began here in these western hills! 
 Better still, let us forget your past as one does a 
 horrid dream, and let our lives begin here, and now 
 at this very moment." 
 
 He looked away, but his resolution did not waver. 
 
 "That is impossible!" he answered, firmly, "and 
 besides, you shall not be sacrificed on the altar of 
 my misfortunes. Love, faith, sympathy noble 
 emotions all! Too noble to be abused. When skel- 
 etons creep into the family closet, it's bad enough, 
 but to deliberately build one's hearth in a charnel
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 481 
 
 house ! Why, it would be sheer insanity ! I must go 
 away from the Hills ; it is only fair to you and on- 
 ly humane to myself. There is no one but you and 
 Tom to regret, for my mother is dead she died 
 soon after I escaped from Sing Sing and Jack Hal- 
 loran, the best friend I ever had, back yonder in the 
 east, was killed by a blast the day before I left for 
 the west. If my sky ever clears; when I can prove 
 my innocence and show you a clean slate, I will come 
 back to you, here, or wherever you are if it is not 
 too late." 
 
 Her hands fell to her sides, and she faced him in 
 all the glory and confidence of self-reliant woman- 
 hood. 
 
 "Look into my eyes,'' she commanded, feelingly. 
 
 He turned and looked into her wonderful eyes, and 
 when he saw the soul-light in their limpid depths he 
 knew that she would wait. 
 
 "It never will be too late, Robert Parkyn," she 
 murmured. 
 
 "I am human enough to be glad to hear you say 
 that," he replied, slowly and decisively, "but not sel- 
 fish enough to permit you to obligate yourself to even 
 remember me. By leaving Deadwood I shall do the 
 only thing in my power to correct the injustices of 
 fate. To remain would bring only unhappiness to 
 us both." 
 
 She knew enough of human character to know that 
 he was inflexible in his determination but, woman- 
 like, she fought on to the end. 
 
 "Is there nothing that can persuade you to re- 
 main ? ' ' 
 
 "Nothing." 
 
 "When are you going?" she inquired, dejectedly, 
 as she comprehended the finality of his answer.
 
 482 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Just as soon as I can arrange my affairs. That 
 will not take long, a week or two at most. I want 
 to provide for the working of my mine. It has not 
 been very profitable so far, but I have_faith in it, 
 and feel that it yet will turn out right. I hope to so 
 arrange matters that, if my faith ever is justified, 
 I can participate in the fruits of my labors and I 
 need those fruits, I assure you. And now, Miss 
 Weatherson, I'm going to leave you to finish your 
 work. If you will permit me, I will call for you lat- 
 er and escort you home. ' ' 
 
 "Please do," she said, extending her hands. 
 
 He silently pressed her hands for a brief instant, 
 then slowly went his way up the road that wound 
 through the hills backing the school grounds. 
 
 The young woman, torn with conflicting emotions 
 and with tears in her lovely eyes, watched him until 
 he was lost to sight among the trees and rocks that 
 flanked the road. 
 
 Just at the moment when Parker left Miss Wea- 
 therson, Jim Atherton appeared on the road that 
 led townward. He noticed the young couple as they 
 parted, and stopped short. With a sardonic smile 
 he, too, watched the young miner as he wended his 
 upward way. 
 
 "So, my fine jail bird," he muttered viciously, to 
 himself, "you've been singing a song for the pretty 
 little school-ma'am, eh! I'll see if I can't improve 
 her taste in music." 
 
 Still sneering he slowly walked towards the young 
 woman. 
 
 As Miss Weatherson, with a deep sigh, turned to 
 enter the school-house, she saw Atherton approach- 
 ing. She gave a start of surprise and stood stock 
 still, in silent astonishment. Noting that she saw
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 483 
 
 him, lie composed his features and was as bland as 
 oil. 
 
 "You seem surprised to see me, Miss Weather- 
 son," he said, with exaggerated politeness. 
 
 "I I confess that I really was not expecting to 
 see you here again, Mr. Atherton. ' ' 
 
 "Indeed?" he sneered, "I'm sorry to have dis- 
 turbed you. ' ' 
 
 "I really have some work to finish, sir, and shall 
 have to ask you to excuse me." 
 
 "Surely your work will not suffer if you devote 
 a moment to me. ' ' 
 
 "Possibly not, if it is but a moment." 
 
 The coolness of her manner and the steadiness of 
 her gaze would have disconcerted a man less case- 
 hardened than Jim Atherton. His assurance, how- 
 ever, rarely deserted him. 
 
 "Won't you be seated?" he asked, indicating the 
 boulder. 
 
 ' * Thank you, sir, I prefer to stand. ' ' 
 
 He laughed in a most irritating way. 
 
 "Oh, very well just as you like," he replied, in- 
 solently. "I'm still unpopular with you, evidently. 
 My visit is not quite so welcome as that of the party 
 who just left you, eh?" 
 
 She looked him over with withering contempt for 
 a few seconds. 
 
 1 t Since you compel me to say it, sir, ' ' she spirit- 
 edly replied, "most emphatically, no ! " 
 
 "If he should ask you the same question that I 
 did a few evenings ago," he went on, with sublime 
 impudence, "you'd give him an answer quite dif- 
 ferent from the one I received. ' ' 
 
 The young woman drew herself up proudly and her 
 eyes flashed with righteous indignation.
 
 484 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "That is a matter which I do not care to discuss 
 with you, Mr. Atherton. A man is entitled to ask a 
 woman what her sentiments are toward himself 
 no more. You have enjoyed that privilege and 
 well, don't be a cad, sir." 
 
 Atherton was almost livid with rage, but succeed- 
 ed in partially controlling himself. 
 
 "So, it has gone that far, has it!" he exclaimed, 
 hotly. "Well, I am going to be fairer to you than 
 you have been to me. I offered you my love you 
 not only turned me down, but have expressed an 
 antipathy for me that is not flattering to my self- 
 esteem. I'm only human, and when a man's vanity 
 is hurt" 
 
 "I did not want to wound you," she rejoined, 
 earnestly. "I gladly would have avoided telling 
 you the truth that you repelled me but you forced 
 it upon me, and what else could I do I You are not 
 at all graceful or convincing in your love-making, 
 Mr. Atherton." 
 
 "All right, let it stand that way, Miss Weather- 
 son, ' ' he replied, with transparent hypocrisy ' ' For 
 your own sake, I'm willing to overlook your cruel 
 and unjust treatment of myself. I still love you, 
 and I'm going to try to save you from making a 
 terrible mistake." 
 
 "That is very kind of you," she said, calmly. 
 "Pray, what is the calamity from which you would 
 save me!" 
 
 "The bestowal of your affections on a man who 
 is unworthy of you the man who has just left you." 
 
 "Ah, indeed! What is wrong with him?" 
 
 "Believe me, Miss Weatherson," he replied, with 
 a deceitful semblance of sincerity, "it is only pure 
 friendliness and a sense of duty that impel me to in-
 
 AT THE RED SCHOOL HOUSE 485 
 
 form you that Bob Parker is an escaped criminal 
 a murderer. He's wanted at Sing Sing." 
 
 The young woman 's lip curled with contempt, and 
 she did not try to conceal her disgust. 
 
 "I appreciate your disinterested regard, Mr. Ath- 
 erton," she answered, satirically, "but you are just 
 a little late with your information. Mr. Parker has 
 just told me the circumstances of his unjust con- 
 viction and imprisonment. I already knew the de- 
 tails of his sudden departure from Sing Sing." 
 
 Atherton was astounded. 
 
 ' What ! You knew them ! " he cried. 
 
 She smiled blandly, with thorough enjoyment of 
 his discomfiture and bewilderment. 
 
 "Yes, I knew them," she reiterated, quietly, "you 
 see, I assisted him to escape." 
 
 "See here, Miss Weatherson," he demanded, fur- 
 iously, "are you making game of me, or are you " 
 
 "Crazy?" she interrupted. "No nor am I mak- 
 ing game of you. But Mr. Parker will return short- 
 ly. Suppose you ask him if I did not aid him in 
 escaping from prison. He'll be glad to solve the 
 riddle for you." 
 
 By a supreme effort Atherton barely managed to 
 suppress an oath. 
 
 "I can't quite see the joke, Miss Weatherson. I 
 can hardly believe that Parker was fool enough to 
 tell you his story." 
 
 "Mr. Parker is no fool nevertheless he did tell 
 me his story." 
 
 "And you still love him?" 
 
 She looked him through and through, with utter 
 scorn. 
 
 "I suspected that I loved him before I heard his 
 story," she answered, serenely. I was pretty cer-
 
 486 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 tain that I loved him after he had told it and now 
 that I hear it from your lips, I am absolutely sure 
 that I love him." 
 
 "You! You love a jail-bird!" he exclaimed, con- 
 temptuously. 
 
 "There are things that are worse than jail-birds," 
 she cuttingly retorted. ' ' For instance, human hawks 
 and buzzards. Let me tell you something, sir: If 
 Bob Parker were twice guilty, I would love him for 
 the contrast he presents to such a creature as you. 
 As I believe him to be innocent, your cowardly at- 
 tempt to injure him makes me worship him. ' ' 
 
 Atherton now was perfectly infuriated. He took 
 a step towards her as if to offer violence, but suc- 
 ceeded in curbing himself. 
 
 ' ' So, you not only spurn my love, but you deliber- 
 ately insult me !" he stormed. "Very well, we'll see 
 if you'll love your jail-bird caged as well as you love 
 him free. You'll have a chance to decide that before 
 many days. The authorities at Sing Sing won't 
 mind sending for him. ' ' 
 
 The young woman was not in the least frightened 
 by Atherton 's furious resentment of her scathing 
 denunciation. 
 
 "If some men should say that, Mr. Atherton," she 
 rejoined, coolly, "I should be greatly concerned lest 
 an innocent man be sent back to prison, but I am 
 not in the least alarmed, for I think you are a cow- 
 ard." 
 
 "A coward ! " he roared, ' * a coward ! ' ' 
 
 "Yes, a coward," she reiterated, calmly. "You 
 will not dare betray Bob Parker so long as you are 
 in the Hills. If you betray him elsewhere well, 
 the danger to which he will be exposed will be more 
 than compensated for by your absence from Dead-
 
 AT THE BED SCHOOL HOUSE 487 
 
 wood. And your absence will be permanent, if I 
 know the temper of our men and correctly estimate 
 your regard for your own safety. ' ' 
 
 By this time, Atherton had completely regained 
 control of himself, and was as cool as if he had been 
 engaged in a shady business deal, in which matters 
 his sang froid was proverbial. 
 
 "You forget, my dear young woman," he said, 
 patronizingly, that there is supposed to be a sem- 
 blance of law and order, even in this God-forsaken 
 town. I doubt if even here, a law-abiding man would 
 endanger his life by exposing an escaped murderer 
 and bringing him to justice. And," he continued, 
 malevolently, "there are other ways of " 
 
 "Here comes Mr. Parker now. He'll be glad to 
 hear your plans, ' ' she interrupted, significantly. 
 
 A moment later Parker turned the corner of the 
 school-house, and seeing a man with Miss Weather- 
 son, paused abruptly. 
 
 "I beg your pardon, Miss Weatherson," he said, 
 I did not know that Oh, hello ! Atherton. How are 
 you?" 
 
 "How are you, Parker?" growled Atherton, sulk- 
 ily. 
 
 Parker turned inquiringly to the young woman. 
 
 "I trust I am not de trop." 
 
 "Not in the least. Mr. Atherton," she said, mean- 
 ingly, "was just bidding me adieu as you came up." 
 
 "Yes," returned Atherton, through his clenched 
 teeth, and desperately trying to retain his equipoise, 
 "I I was just going, so I will say good evening, 
 Miss Weatherson." 
 
 The young woman bowed coldly, and with an in- 
 solent nod to Parker, who barely acknowledged the 
 salutation, Atherton departed towards town.
 
 488 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The young couple paid no further attention to the 
 unwelcome visitor, who, when he reached the con- 
 cealment of the trees a little distance down the road, 
 turned and glared vindictively at the pair. 
 
 "I'll pay my debts to you some day, Mr. Robert 
 Parkyn alias Bob Parker and don't you forget 
 it, ' ' he growled ferociously, to himself. 
 
 Atherton shook his fist at the objects of his wrath 
 and with a final wicked glare in their direction hur- 
 ried on his way. 
 
 Miss Weatherson grasped both of Parker's hands, 
 and for a time was too overcome with emotion to 
 speak. 
 
 She finally found her voice and sobbed, almost 
 hysterically : 
 
 "That man knows!" 
 
 "Great God! Atherton? He knows my " 
 
 "He has just told me your story." 
 
 "Atherton told you my story?" he repeated, me- 
 chanically. 
 
 "Yes, and oh, Mr. Parker ! Robert ! I 'm afraid 
 of him for you," she said, tearfully. 
 
 The young man gently drew away his hands. 
 
 "So am I," he replied, with deep concern. "He 
 will either expose, or attempt to blackmail me 
 perhaps both. Surely you see now, Miss Weather- 
 son, that I must leave the Hills and very soon. ' ' 
 
 She at last instinctively knew that they both would 
 be compelled to submit to what apparently was the 
 inevitable. 
 
 "Yes, you are right ! You must leave Deadwood 
 at once, if you can. ' ' 
 
 They clasped each other's hands and gazed into 
 each other's eyes with the mutual sympathy and
 
 AT THE EED SCHOOL HOUSE 489 
 
 understanding that only love and a common affec- 
 tion can give. 
 
 ' ' Come, it is growing late, ' ' he said, gently. ' ' Get 
 your examination papers, lock your door and let us 
 be going home. ' ' 
 
 11 Shall we not wait for Ellen and Mr. Smithers?" 
 she asked. 
 
 He smiled faintly at the simplicity of the question. 
 
 "No they will not return. Ellen is a chaperon 
 to the manner born, and Smithers is wiser than he 
 looks lucky dog ! ' ' 
 
 Lingeringly, and in silence, the couple walked 
 homeward. 
 
 "You will arrange your affairs as quickly as you 
 can, won't you?" pleaded the young woman, as they 
 separated at the hotel. 
 
 "Yes," he promised, gravely, "and all the more 
 speedily because I well, because I feel that it would 
 grieve you to know that I had returned to to hell, 
 Miss Weatherson. "
 
 CHAPTEB XXVIII 
 
 SMITHEBS MAKES A TEN STRIKE 
 
 Bob Parker's cabin and mine were located about 
 a mile and a half from town, on the side of what, 
 anywhere but in the Black Hills, would have been 
 considered a mountain of quite respectable propor- 
 tions. 
 
 The cabin was the typic miner's habitation a 
 very primitive affair of the shack order, built of 
 roughly-hewn logs. The architectural defects of 
 the structure, however, were redeemed by its pic- 
 turesqueness. 
 
 On the front of the rude cabin, between the door 
 and the little solitary window, was nailed a large 
 wolf pelt. Against the wall, just beneath the trophy 
 of the chase, was a long, rough pine bench, on which 
 stood a capacious wooden water bucket, containing 
 a long-handled tin dipper. 
 
 Underneath the bench was a suspicious-looking 
 demijohn of mammoth size and inviting appearance 
 which, being filled with a non-bibulous fluid, kero- 
 sene, made a fraudulent display of spirituous hospi- 
 tality and good cheer. 
 
 On huge nails driven into the logs composing the 
 front of the cabin hung a varied assortment of home- 
 ly, more or less battered cooking utensils, and ar- 
 ticles of raiment of various colors, which latter evi-
 
 SMITHEES MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 491 
 
 dently had experienced hard service and rude laund- 
 ering. 
 
 Immediately in front of the shack, a few feet 
 from the door, stood several smoothly-sawn stumps 
 of immense trees, leaning against which were sev- 
 eral business-like picks and shovels. 
 
 At the corner of the cabin was a barrel for the 
 collection of rain water, and in what may be termed 
 for courtesy's sake the dooryard, stood a saw-buck 
 and several piles of fire-wood. Against one of these 
 piles reclined a wood-saw and a much battered ax 
 that seemed to be struggling against an inclination 
 to tumble down hill. 
 
 Tethered to a sapling behind the cabin was a cou- 
 ple of stubby little burros, patiently nibbling at the 
 bushes and stubble. 
 
 A number of trees of large size and various kinds 
 surrounded the cabin and bedecked the mountain be- 
 hind it. A narrow, rocky and meandering trail led 
 from the main road past the cabin and wound its 
 upward way among the hills at the rear. 
 
 Higher up on the side of the mountain, a little 
 removed from the cabin, was the opening of the 
 mine which had cost its owner so many weary hours 
 of arduous labor with so little tangible result. Be- 
 low and in front of the mine was an enormous heap 
 of worthless " tailings, ' ' excavated rock and earth 
 that evidenced Parker's industry and disappoint- 
 ment. 
 
 Early one morning, a week subsequent to the 
 events related in the previous chapter, our distin- 
 guished friend, Mr. W. Ponsonby Smithers, might 
 have been seen near the cabin blazing away with a 
 revolver almost as large as a field piece, at an impro-
 
 492 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 vised target composed of a full sheet of an old news- 
 paper attached to a huge tree. 
 
 The Englishman had been blissfully enjoying him- 
 self since daylight, apparently unconscious of the 
 approach of the breakfast hour. He was awkwardly 
 shooting from the hip, had just fired a shot, had ap- 
 proached the tree and was critically examining the 
 target to ascertain the amount of execution. On 
 peering closely at the mark he was amazed at his 
 own prowess. 
 
 "By Jove ! I believe I hit the tree ! I really do," 
 he cried, gleefully, feeling for his discarded mono- 
 cle. "And I hit it without me eye-glass ! ' ' 
 
 He examined his gun in amateurish fashion, re- 
 loaded it and then, stepping back to firing range, 
 again shot at the target. 
 
 The weapon must have been clumsily held, for the 
 recoil jarred Smithers' gun-hand most unmercifully, 
 causing him to drop the pistol to the ground. 
 
 * ' My word ! ' ' he exclaimed, solicitously examining 
 his hand and counting his fingers. "That was a 
 ripper! Most extraor'nary, really! The bloomin' 
 piece kicks like an elephant gun, don'tcher know! 
 An' Horton said it was as gentle as a government 
 mule! what?" 
 
 He dawdled up to the tree and slowly circled 
 around it, minutely examining the bark and the 
 target in an obviously puzzled and near-sighted fash- 
 ion. 
 
 "How extraor'nary, really!" he observed. "I 
 don't believe I hit the bloomin' tree at all, an' that 
 last one was a most marvelous discharge top hole, 
 don'tcher know." 
 
 Just as the last shot was fired, Parker appeared 
 at the door of the cabin and noting the ludicrous
 
 SMITHEES MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 493 
 
 performance, laughed so vociferously that the ob- 
 ject of his mirth surely must have heard it, had he 
 not been so preoccupied with his revolver score. 
 
 " Hello! there, Smithers. Don't you want any 
 grub? The flapjacks are getting cold, and I'll not 
 cook another batch, mind that. Close that schutzen 
 fest and come to breakfast. I've finished mine." 
 
 "But I say, really. I'd like to hit that blawsted 
 tree again, you know," protested the marksman. 
 
 "Oh, life's too short!" expostulated the young 
 miner. * ' Come on in to breakfast, you blood-thirsty 
 desperado ! You ought to have had that long-suffer- 
 ing tree cut down by this time. Don't you know 
 that lead costs money?" 
 
 "Yes, but Mr. Horton is teachin' me to shoot 
 from the hip, an' I was doin' a bit of practicin' 
 what?" argued Smithers, as he picked up his wea- 
 pon. 
 
 "And your blawsted gun got so bloomin' hot you 
 couldn't hold it, eh?" chuckled the other. "Well, 
 shooting won't warm up those flapjacks or keep 
 the coffee hot, so get a move on you. ' ' 
 
 Smithers looked alternately at the gun and 
 the target, gave his still aching fingers a final solicit- 
 ous inspection and grudgingly followed his friend in- 
 to the cabin, closing the door behind him. 
 
 Parker shortly reappeared, and going to the al- 
 most uninjured tree inspected the target. 
 
 "Well," he laughed, as he counted the hits, "if 
 that tenderfoot partner of mine ever learns to handle 
 that gun right and runs amok, he'll depopulate the 
 Black Hills, but if Tom doesn't have better success 
 in making a man-killer out of him than I'm having 
 in teaching him to mine, life insurance rates won't 
 go up much in this vicinity. ' '
 
 494 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 He went to one of the stumps in front of the 
 cabin, selected from the assortment of tools leaning 
 against it a pick and shovel and started toward the 
 mine. 
 
 ''Hello ! there, Mr. Argonaut," called a deep voice. 
 
 Parker wheeled about and saw his friend, Tom 
 Horton, laboriously toiling toward him up the path. 
 
 " Hello, yourself!" answered the young miner. 
 "Why didn't you wait for the elevator and where 's 
 your horse?" 
 
 "The nigger that runs the elevator is on strike, 
 an' that fool horse o' mine has got a lame shoulder," 
 puffed Horton, removing his hat and wiping the 
 sweat from his face with the back of his formidable 
 hand. 
 
 The two men shook hands as if vying with each 
 other in an attempt to dislocate each other's 1 arms. 
 
 "What brought you around at this time of the 
 day, Tom?" queried Parker. "Has your star pupil, 
 Smithers, been killing somebody? He was down 
 town last night. ' ' 
 
 "Nope," chuckled Horton; "he ain't got anybody 
 so far, but he's young yet, an' I 'have me hopes'." 
 
 "So, Mister Sheriff, you really are trying to make 
 business for yourself by teaching him to shoot, 
 eh? That was a lovely baby cannon you presented 
 him with!" 
 
 "Say, Bob," snickered Horton, "ye'd oughter 
 seen his face when I handed him that grown-up gun ! 
 Is he practicin' reg'lar?" 
 
 "Practicing? I should say he was! He's out ev- 
 ery morning at daylight, blazing away at that tree 
 yonder. ' ' 
 
 The sheriff went to the tree indicated and looked 
 it over with the air of a connoisseur.
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 495 
 
 ' 'Urn ah!" he commented. "He's hit the tree 
 twice. That's not so bad fer a tenderfoot, even if 
 he did miss the paper." 
 
 " Bad! "shouted the other. "Bad! Say, Tom, did 
 you ever read the statistics of the number of shots 
 per hit in a battle f ' ' 
 
 "Seems ter me I have," chuckled the sheriff. 
 
 "Well," laughed Parker, "Smithers is a soldier, 
 every inch of him. He's spent seven dollars for 
 ammunition in less than that many days. Net re- 
 sults, two hits and no bull's-eyes." 
 
 "Oh, he'll get there yet," returned Horton. "What 
 luck are ye havin' makin' a miner of him?" 
 
 "He digs just as he shoots with enthusiasm, and 
 with a worse score. You've got me beat, Tom; he's 
 hit the tree twice, but he hasn't yet struck anything 
 in the mine but perfectly good rock and clean grav- 
 el." 
 
 Just at that moment the object of their conver- 
 sation appeared in the doorway of the cabin, feeling 
 for his departed eye-glass and gazing helplessly 
 about. 
 
 "Oh, I say, Mr. Parker! Where's me bloomin' 
 tools?" 
 
 "Eight where you left them by that stump over 
 yonder," answered his partner, winking humorous- 
 ly at his friend. "You forgot to put them in the 
 stove last evening." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully, old chap." 
 
 The Englishman proceeded to the stump, gathered 
 up his tools and with pick on shoulder and shovel 
 in hand was about to go to his work, when his eye 
 fell on the sheriff. 
 
 "Well, by Jove!" he exclaimed with genuine joy, 
 dropping his tools and rushing to the visitor with
 
 496 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 both hands extended in hearty greeting. "Good 
 mornin', Mr. Horton." 
 
 The caller gravely took Smithers 's hands and 
 shook them cordially. 
 
 "Call me Tom, Ponsy, old boy. You're not a 
 tenderfoot anymore, an' we're good pals now, ye 
 know." 
 
 "Are we, really? How extraor'nary! I'm glad 
 to see you, Mr. ah, Tom; very glad, don'tcher 
 know." 
 
 ' ' Me too, old chap, ' ' replied Horton. ' ' How are ye 
 gettin' on with yer shootin'?" 
 
 "RippinM Couldn't be better. My word! I 
 wish I had time to show you me score. But I 've got 
 to get to work, I really have, don'tcher know. See 
 you later, Mr. ah, Tom. ' ' 
 
 The concsientious Smithers laboriously gathered 
 up his implements, and supporting them against his 
 legs, took out his pipe and lighted it. 
 
 "I say, Mr. ah, Tom, old chap," he puffed, calm- 
 ly. "Rawther clevah idea that, shootin' from the 
 hip." 
 
 "Yes," acquiesced the sheriff. "We like it." 
 
 "Great idea very!" repeated the Englishman 
 as he leisurely strolled towards the tunnel. 
 
 "So long, Ponsy, old sox," the sheriff called after 
 him. 
 
 Smithers stopped at the mouth of the tunnel, and 
 gazed reflectively at Horton. 
 
 "I say, Mr. ah, Tom, happy thought, that 'gov- 
 ernment mule', very! But I'm not quite keen on 
 mules, don'tcher know. Rawther prefer 'Mary's 
 little lamb 'Ha! Ha!" 
 
 He disappeared in the mine, leaving his two 
 friends convulsed with merriment.
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STRIKE 497 
 
 "In a hurry to get to work, old man?" quietly 
 asked the sheriff, when they had composed them- 
 selves. 
 
 "Why, no. I'm never in a hurry when you're 
 around, my dear friend. ' ' 
 
 "Honors are easy, Bob," soberly rejoined Horton. 
 "Thought I'd run up an' have a little chat with ye, 
 before ye hunted yer hole." 
 
 The sheriff seated himself upon a stump in front 
 of the cabin. The young miner threw himself on 
 the bench opposite his friend and reclining at ease 
 looked expectantly at him. Both men automatically 
 dove into their pockets after their pipes, filled and 
 lit them. 
 
 "See here, Bob, what's this I hear about yer pul- 
 lin' out o' the race fer Sheriff?" questioned Horton, 
 solicitously, extinguishing his match and flinging 
 it down the hill. 
 
 ' * Straight goods, Tom, ' ' answered Parker, calmly 
 puffing and blowing fluffy smoke-rings to the wind. 
 "I would have told you first, only well, you big- 
 hearted old mule, you; I knew just how you'd balk. 
 I haven't forgotten how you bullied me into promis- 
 ing to run against you when the boys put it up to 
 me. So I thought I 'd inform them first and get you 
 to back me up. ' ' 
 
 "The boys? Hell !" fumed the sheriff . "They're 
 the sorest lot o' roosters ye ever saw. Why, it was 
 them that sent me here. ' ' 
 
 "They sent you here!" 
 
 "Sure," laughed Horton. "They want a contest 
 that '11 excite some bettin ' interest at the books. They 
 say they '11 win, either way, which ever side they bet 
 on. Some of 'em '11 lose their bets, but everybody '11 
 be satisfied with the sheriff-elect."
 
 498 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "No use, Tom," replied the young miner, firmly, 
 "I've made up my mind I'm not going to run. My 
 candidacy was ridiculous, anyhow. You're the man 
 to succeed yourself in office, and you Ve got to do it. ' ' 
 
 The sheriff's face darkened in dogged determina- 
 tion, and his jaw set like a chilled-steel vise. 
 
 "An' I've made up my mind, Mr. Bob Parker, an' 
 ye 're goin' ter run! Savvy? If ye don't I'll arrest 
 ye fer well, fer treason. D'ye s'pose I wanter sit 
 in another game o' political solitaire like the last 
 election? If you don't run, Jeff Peters will, an' ye 
 know what I think o' him." 
 
 "Jeff Peters! A fine chance he'd have against 
 you," snorted Parker, derisively. 
 
 "Sure, I know," admitted Horton, "but that ain't 
 the point. I want ter show the boys a new kind o' 
 campaignin'. I want a contest, an' I want a feller 
 like you on the other side o' the table. As there 
 ain't any other feller in Deadwood that just suits 
 my ideas, why it's up ter you, Bob an' I'm bettin' 
 ye '11 lick me, too. Ye needn't quit minin' either, 
 fer I'll take your job off'n yer hands when ye take 
 office share an' share alike, as ter the minin' an' 
 you can grub-stake me out o' yer salary, if it comes 
 ter a show down." 
 
 "But, Tom," protested his friend, "I can't run. 
 You see I well, it's absolutely impossible." 
 
 "Impossible nothin'! Why is it impossible?" de- 
 manded the sheriff. 
 
 "Well, you see, Tom. I" 
 
 "Oh, spit 'er out, Bob!" 
 
 "I'm going to leave Deadwood, old man," the 
 young miner blurted out in desperation. 
 
 Horton jumped to his feet as if stung, and stared 
 blankly at him. 

 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STRIKE 499 
 
 "Ye 're goin' ter leave Deadwood!" he finally ex- 
 claimed. ''You! Say that again an' say it slow." 
 
 "I'm in dead earnest, Tom." 
 
 "Well, I'll be d d! For the love o' Mike! 
 
 What for?" 
 
 The young miner rose to his feet and going to 
 Horton laid an affectionate hand on his shoulder. 
 
 "Tom, he said, slowly, "there are some things 
 I can't talk over with anyone even with you, my 
 best friend. Matters have so shaped themselves 
 that I must get out of the Hills, and at once. ' ' 
 
 " 'Must' is an ugly word, Bob. D'ye need some 
 more dough? If ye do, the sheriff's still drawin' 
 down some unearned spondulix that ain't exactly 
 workin' nights." 
 
 "No, Tom; thank you just the same," replied 
 Parker, appreciatively, "I'll have enough for bare 
 necessaries in the future, thanks to my new partner 
 and you know my habits. ' ' 
 
 "What's up then, Bob, are ye losin' confidence in 
 that mine ? If ye are, why there 's plenty other places 
 in the Hills where a feller can drive a tunnel, ye 
 know. ' ' 
 
 ' ' Confidence ! ' ' exclaimed Parker ' ' Confidence ! 
 Believe me, Tom Horton, if a man can't make a ten- 
 strike in that hole, sooner or later, he 'd better give 
 up the Black Hills as a bad job. Tom I know. I'm 
 not mining by guess, pot luck or instinct. ' ' 
 
 "Then what the deuce are ye quittin' fer?" 
 
 "I'm not going to quit the mining game. I've 
 given Smithers an interest, as you know, and I'll 
 leave somebody to help him. He's honest, a hard 
 worker and, jesting aside, he's slowly but surely 
 learning the rudiments of the game. Besides, any-
 
 500 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 body who tries to jump claim on him will get a taste 
 of British bulldog, I'll guarantee that." 
 
 During this speech the sheriff looked his friend 
 fixedly in the eye. 
 
 "Look here, Bob," he said, skeptically, "what 
 sort of a deal are ye framin' up? Just give me a 
 pointer, so I can set in the game." 
 
 "I've told you all there is to tell." 
 
 "Not by a damned sight ye hain't! an' I ain't 
 laughin' when I say it, neither," doggedly opposed 
 the sheriff. ' l Come across, now ! ' ' 
 
 The young miner returned to the bench, deject- 
 edly threw himself upon it, and resumed his smoking. 
 
 "No use, Tom," he expostulated, shaking his head, 
 "you can't even get me mad enough to talk back." 
 
 "Then there must be something serious in the 
 wind, sure enough," persisted the sheriff. "Come, 
 let go an' get down ter brass tacks." 
 
 Horton scratched a match on his trousers and 
 with great deliberation lit his pipe and puffed away 
 at it like a steam engine laboring up a grade. 
 
 "Say, Bob," he went on, looking away from his 
 friend and towards the mine. 
 
 Parker raised his head and looked inquiringly 
 at him. 
 
 "Yes?" 
 
 Horton 's face plainly showed his anxiety, but he 
 puffed away like mad at his pipe. 
 
 "No bad news from Noo York, I hope?" he asked, 
 between puffs. 
 
 "From New York!" ejaculated the astonished 
 young miner. "What do you mean?" 
 
 ' * Why, I thought p 'raps you 'd heard somethin ' that 
 that ye sort o' wanted ter talk over with with 
 old Tom, you know."
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 501 
 
 It was with difficulty that Parker restrained an 
 expression of astonishment. 
 
 "I don't quite get you, Tom." 
 
 "Ye don't, eh? Well, when a sick man needs 
 strong doses I b'lieve in givin' 'em, an' givin' 'em 
 d - d quick, so " 
 
 The young man looked in apprehensive expectan- 
 cy at his friend, who, without looking up, was pat- 
 ting down with his forefinger the smouldering con- 
 tents of his pipe. 
 
 "Say, Bob," asked Horton, quietly, "inquirin' 
 as a private citizen an' a personal friend, did you 
 really kill that Dago?" 
 
 Parker started up as if impelled by a spring, and 
 confronted his friend, who immediately faced about 
 and awaited his answer. 
 
 "Good God, Tom! then you know. Atherton 
 has" 
 
 "Yes, Tom Horton knows, my dear boy but he 
 hain't told the sheriff yet." 
 
 The young miner tottered back to the bench and 
 buried his face in his hands. 
 
 ' ' Face the music, Bob ! ' ' commanded Horton, with 
 a business-like ring in his voice. "Did you kill 
 that Dago?" 
 
 Parker excitedly sprang to his feet and with flash- 
 ing, indignant eyes faced him. 
 
 "Heavens, man! Do you think I ?" 
 
 ' ' Sh h ! ' ' cautioned Horton. * * Don 't talk so loud. 
 The sheriff might hear you." 
 
 The young man calmed himself and went on quiet- 
 
 ly. 
 
 * ' Tom, I 'm as innocent as you are. ' ' 
 Alludin' ter that partic'lar shootin', o' course," 
 
 "
 
 502 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 grinned the sheriff, satirically, knocking the ashes 
 from his pipe and rising. 
 
 1 ' That sounds mighty good, my boy. Say it again, 
 an' say it slow. Did you kill that Dago?" 
 
 "No, Tom so help me God!" replied the young 
 miner, earnestly and with deep emotion. "I was 
 the victim of a conspiracy. You see " 
 
 Horton, with his face beaming ecstatically, joy- 
 fully grabbed his friend by both shoulders and shook 
 him until he tore several buttons from his shirt. 
 
 "Never mind the yarn!" he cut in, delightedly. 
 * * Some other time '11 do f er that. Ye didn 't do it, an ' 
 that's enough joy fer the present. Tom Horton 
 won 't have ter ask the sheriff ter let ye break away, 
 an' fire blank ca'tridges at ye while ye 're doin' it." 
 
 "So," commented Parker, bitterly, "Atherton al- 
 ready has begun his dirty work, has he t I suppose 
 by this time the whole town knows the story." 
 
 The sheriff's lip curled contemptuously, and there 
 was a steely glitter in his dark eyes. 
 
 "Don't ye ever believe it, my boy," he said, 
 grimly, "I accident 'ly heard that newspaper feller, 
 Gordon, tellin' the story to that damned skunk, Ath- 
 erton, an' I butted in. I don't think they'll shoot 
 their mouths off none I told 'em just where they'd 
 get off if they did." 
 
 Parker was thrilled through and through by the 
 loyalty and manliness of his friend. 
 
 "And you protected me without knowing whether 
 I was guilty or not?" 
 
 Horton 's face expanded in a cavernous grin, and 
 he nodded affirmatively. 
 
 "Yep Tom Horton didn't care a cuss whether ye 
 was guilty or not I don't know how the sheriff 
 would ha' acted. Anyhow," he chuckled, "them
 
 SMITHEES MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 503 
 
 stiffs won 't blab. If they do, the sheriff may have ter 
 arrest me fer violent conduct." 
 "Ah! but I'm not so sure about Atherton." 
 "What d'ye mean? Has that skulkin' coyote shot 
 off his mouth?" 
 
 "Not where it will hurt any, Tom, so let's not 
 talk about that. But, my friend, you can see plainly 
 that I '11 have to go." 
 
 "Go nothin'!" opposed Horton, contumaciously, 
 "ye '11 stay right here, that's what ye '11 do! Noo 
 York's a long way off, an' they'll have a monkey an' 
 parrot time a-gettin ye. Savvy? You're goin' ter 
 be elected Sheriff, hear me talkin', an' if they notify 
 the new sheriff ter collar Bob Parker, why he an' 
 his friend Tom, an' the rest o' the boys '11 give 'em 
 one peach of a run fer their money. Besides, if ye 
 stand pat, somethin' may happen ter set things right. 
 There 's a whole lot o ' things turns up in this world 
 besides people's toes." 
 
 The young miner fervently clasped his friend's 
 hand. 
 
 "Tom," he ejaculated, huskily, "you're the best 
 and bravest fellow in the whole wide world ! ' ' 
 
 "Nope," contradicted Horton, shaking his leonine 
 head deprecatingly, "just the friend o' the best feller 
 in the world, that's all." 
 
 "Yes, and what sort of a hound would I be to 
 drag you into my troubles?" exclaimed Parker, de- 
 cisively. "I won't do it, Tom! I'm going to leave. 
 It's the only decent thing to do. And by the way," 
 he asked, gloomily, "you don't want to run against 
 Jeff Peters how about running against a jail-bird? 
 I am going to hike out and give you a clear field; 
 that 'sail there is to it."
 
 504 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The sheriff resumed his seat upon the stump and 
 painstakingly refilled his pipe. 
 
 ' ' See, here, Bob, ' ' he said, hesitatingly and with ev- 
 ident embarrassment, "you you Well," he blurt- 
 ed, in sheer desperation, "you're in wrong all 
 around! There's somethin' else besides yer mine 
 and the election that oughter make ye stand behind 
 yer guns." 
 
 "Something else! What do you mean, Tom?" 
 
 The sheriff touched a match to his pipe and with 
 calm deliberation began smoking. 
 
 "Miss Weatherson," he rejoined, ostentatiously 
 puffing smoke rings in rapid succession and narrow- 
 ly scrutinizing his friend's face. 
 
 Miss Weatherson!" exclaimed the astonished 
 Parker, "why, what ?" 
 
 "Come, Bob! quit yer stallin'," the sheriff inter- 
 rupted, quietly. "You an' me ain't kids; we're 
 grown men an' good friends, an' we might as well 
 get down ter cases. That girl 's in love with ye, an ' 
 you know it, Bob Parker, unless ye 're as big a fool as 
 as I've been, an' you're in love with her, an' she 
 knows it. ' ' 
 
 "Has she ever said so?" evaded Parker. 
 
 "No, but a blamed fool can see sometimes. Even 
 that yeller pup of a pencil-pusher, Gordon, got onter 
 the situation before he'd been in town twenty-four 
 hours. The whole town was onter you an' the girl 
 an' an' me, long before." 
 
 "Then, can't you see, Tom, that I must leave Dead- 
 wood? What right have I, a social pariah, even to 
 think of a girl like her? Let me go, Tom, and and 
 let me give you your chance. Education is not all. 
 The artificial refinements of life are not all. True 
 manhood and womanhood are greater than social
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STRIKE 505 
 
 frills and intellectual Dead Sea fruit that fools call 
 culture. She and I both have learned that. Take 
 your chance, Tom," he entreated. "It's due you 
 and due her." 
 
 1 1 Ferget it, Bob ! I 'm clean off the slate. I hain 't 
 got even a look in, ' ' answered the obdurate Horton. 
 Ye 're goin' ter stay an' take your chance. Ye 're 
 innocent o' that Dago business, an' anyhow, what 
 Miss Weatherson don 't know, won 't hurt her none. ' ' 
 
 "But she does know, Tom," quietly replied the 
 young miner. 
 
 "What!" roared the sheriff, wrathfully, leaping 
 to his feet and instinctively putting his hand to the 
 butt of his .44. "Has that sneak, Atherton ?" 
 
 "Yes," calmly interposed the other, "but he was 
 a little late with his story I already had told her." 
 
 Horton collapsed back on the stump in limp and 
 helpless amazement. 
 
 ' You ! " he sputtered, ' * you told her ? Well I 'm 
 d d!" 
 
 "I couldn't help it, Tom. We came to an under- 
 standing about well, about the way we felt towards 
 each other. I had to be a man and tell her my 
 story." 
 
 "Well?" said Horton, sitting up straight and anx- 
 iously awaiting the answer. 
 
 "She has faith in my innocence," was the proud 
 reply. 
 
 "Then what the devil d'ye want ter leave Dead- 
 wood for, if everything's on the level with her, an' 
 it hain't changed her none?" 
 
 "Because Atherton saw her later, and also told her 
 that I was an escaped convict and wanted in the 
 east," rejoined Parker, his face reflecting the ten- 
 sity of his emotions. "When she learned that Ath-
 
 506 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 erton knew my story she well, she agreed with me, 
 that I must leave the Hills. ' ' 
 
 Horton slowly rose to his feet, pugnaciously 
 squared his broad shoulders, expanded his chest and 
 tightened his belt another hole. 
 
 "Hate ter disagree with a lady, Bob," he said, 
 deliberately, his eyes flashing wickedly and his voice 
 ringing like highly-tempered steel, "but I'm a-goin' 
 ter do it, just this once. If you try to get away I '11 
 slap ye in the calaboose. My business is ter keep an 
 eye on desperadoes like you, an' I'm a-goin ter do 
 it. Ye 're under arrest an ' on parole. D 'ye get me I ' ' 
 Parker silently wrung his friend's hand for a 
 moment, not daring to trust himself to speak. 
 
 "Tom Horton!" he finally ejaculated, "you're a 
 wonder ! and I '11 show you that I 'm game. I 'm going 
 to stick." 
 
 "That's a little more like it, Bob." 
 Hardly had the sheriff uttered these words when 
 Miss Weather son and Ellen came into view down the 
 trail. 
 
 "Hello!" he exclaimed, "speakin' o' angels, look 
 who's comin' up the trail." 
 
 The ladies were completely winded when they came 
 to the top of the ascent, and stopped for a moment 
 to recover their breaths, meanwhile waving their 
 hands in greeting to the two friends, who joyfully 
 went to meet them. 
 
 "Have we surprised some plotting brigands, gen- 
 tlemen?" Miss Weatherson laughingly demanded. 
 
 1 1 Surprised f Yes, " admitted Parker. " As to our 
 being brigands, I am not so sure. Tom was just 
 telling me some of his blood-curdling adventures, 
 and I don't know whether he is the ghost of Dick 
 Turpin, a Eoman gladiator on the warpath, or the 
 Baron Miinchausen re-incarnated."
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 507 
 
 "Ye yes," stammered Horton, red to the ears 
 with embarrassment, "I was just a tellin' Bob about 
 a big stage hold-up I was in once." 
 
 Parker led the way to his humble abode and 
 showed the ladies to seats, Miss Weatherson choos- 
 ing a stump in the dooryard, and her young com- 
 panion appropriating the bench in front of the 
 cabin. 
 
 "This is indeed an honor, Miss "Weatherson," 
 said the young miner, warmly. 
 
 At this Ellen sat up very straight and pouted 
 as prettily as only a little Irish lass could. 
 
 Parker noted the young girl's affectation of ruf- 
 fled dignity and hastened to make amends. 
 
 "And Miss McGinnis," he laughed, bowing pro- 
 foundly. 
 
 "I presume that I ought to explain our visit," 
 remarked the school-teacher, mischievously. "Ellen 
 suddenly has developed an interest in mineralogy, 
 and as it is Saturday and there is no school, I'm 
 chaperoning her in her investigations." 
 
 Ellen's eyes gave signs of what might have been 
 an embarrassing retort, and Miss Weatherson took 
 her cue with great celerity. 
 
 "And she is reciprocating," admitted the teacher. 
 
 ' * Say, Bob, ' ' suggested the sheriff, with a knowing 
 chuckle, "I guess it's up ter me ter crawl inter that 
 black hole in the ground an' capture a real live, 
 blue-blooded mineral hunter fer the ladies." 
 
 Horton started towards the mine, but just at that 
 moment Smithers, with a broken pick in one hand 
 and a huge piece of ore in the other, appeared at 
 the mouth of the tunnel. He stood blinking at the sun 
 for a moment and then came dawdling towards the 
 group.
 
 508 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Here he comes now!" whispered Parker, in an 
 aside. Let's surprise him. Hide yourselves, la- 
 dies!" 
 
 They instantly sought places of concealment, Miss 
 Weatherson dodging behind the shack and Ellen 
 rushing into the cabin, from which she peeped at her 
 friends through the crack of the half-open door. 
 
 Smithers ambled up, carrying the broken pick and 
 gingerly holding the lump of rock. 
 
 "Fine luck ! what 1" he lamented, "I've broken 
 me bloomin ' pick ! My word ! We 've got a blawsted 
 iron mine, what? Look at this piece of rock! It's 
 as hard as flint, it really is, don'tcher know!" 
 
 The ladies peered from their places of conceal- 
 ment, quivering with barely repressed merriment. 
 
 With admonishing finger on lip, Parker cautioned 
 them not to betray their presence. 
 
 "Well," he said, jestingly, "I'm glad you've at 
 least struck something besides gravel and plain 
 quartz, so don't complain of hard luck. Let me see 
 your find, ' ' and he reached for the specimen. 
 
 The young miner casually glanced at the piece 
 of rock and gave a start of astonishment. 
 
 "Good Lord! Tom!" he yelled, excitedly; "look 
 at this!" 
 
 "Holy smoke!" cried Horton, the instant his eye 
 rested on the specimen. 
 
 Parker grabbed his partner by the arm with a 
 fierce clutch that made him squirm. 
 
 "Where did you get this stuff?" he demanded. 
 
 "I uncovered a beastly ledge," drawled Smithers, 
 with exasperating slowness. "I was diggin' around 
 it an' accidentally struck it with me pick' an' broke 
 the blawsted " 
 
 Parker let go of the wondering Englishman's arm,
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A TEN-STEIKE 509 
 
 dashed madly for the tunnel and disappeared in 
 the darkness of the mine. 
 
 Smithers looked blankly after his partner, and as 
 the latter was swallowed up in the depths of the tun- 
 nel, dropped the broken pick, took out his briar, 
 filled and lit it and calmly began smoking. 
 
 ' 'Excitable chap, that very," he remarked, non- 
 chalantly. 
 
 "Excitable!" exclaimed the sheriff, brandishing 
 the specimen, "D'ye know what ye've struck, ye 
 chump? Free millin' ore that'll show a cool thous- 
 and t' the ton, if it'll show a cent!" 
 
 "Really, now!" drawled the other, seating him- 
 self on the stump and smoking as coolly as if 
 things mundane interested him not at all. "Does 
 there happen to be any gold in it, d'ye think?" 
 
 ' ' Gold in it ! Gold in it ! " gasped the other. ' Why 
 you d ?" 
 
 Suddenly remembering the proximity of the la- 
 dies, who had remained concealed during the enact- 
 ment of the little comedy drama, Horton suppressed 
 with his hand the justifiable profanity that was im- 
 minent. 
 
 Parker reappeared at the mouth of the tunnel 
 with several more pieces of the ore in his hands and 
 wildly tore back to his friends. Rushing up to Hor- 
 ton the over-joyed miner violently shook him by 
 the shoulders as if he were a rag doll in the paws 
 of a grizzly bear. 
 
 "We've struck it at last, old man! I knew it was 
 there, somewhere!" he shouted, letting go of the 
 sheriff and throwing his arms around Smithers. 
 "Wake up, you lobster!" he yelled in his partner's 
 ear; "you've struck the mother lode!" 
 
 "Beg pawdon, but you're rawther excited, you
 
 510 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 know. You've knocked me bloomin' pipe out of me 
 mouth." 
 
 Smithers calmly disengaged himself from Par- 
 ker's embrace, picked up his pipe, relit it and asked, 
 languidly. 
 
 "What was it I hit, Mr. er partner?" 
 
 ' * The mother lode, you chunk of inanimate proto- 
 plasm, you!" 
 
 "Really, now! But I didn't mean to hit her 
 what? Was she hurt much?" 
 
 "Isn't he the limit, Tom?" despairingly exclaimed 
 the young miner. 
 
 "Ellen!" he called. "See if you can't wake up 
 Smithers; he's in a trance." 
 
 Miss Weatherson and her protege now revealed 
 themselves and the Englishman stared at them in 
 characteristically mild astonishment. He rose from 
 the stump in extreme deliberation and ambled to 
 meet them. 
 
 "My word! If here isn't Miss Ellen! an' Miss 
 Weatherson," he added, bowing gallantly. 
 
 "I sincerely congratulate you on your good for- 
 tune, Mr. Smithers," said the school-teacher, warm- 
 ly, shaking his hand. 
 
 "And you too, dear," she said to the young girl, 
 putting her arm around her. 
 
 "Really, now; I don't quite " began Smithers, 
 plainly obtuse. 
 
 "Of course you don't, you blamed tenderfoot!" 
 hopelessly interjected his partner. 
 
 "But I say now, Mr., er partner I'm no tender- 
 foot, don'tcher know." 
 
 * ' Oh, yes you are, ' rawther ', ' ' exclaimed Ellen with 
 a laugh, grasping him by the hand and dragging him 
 to a seat beside her on the bench, where they soon be- 
 came engaged in a conversation that was animated
 
 SMITHEES MAKES A TEN-STRIKE 511 
 
 on one side, at least, and doubtless very interesting 
 to both. 
 
 Horton noted the actions of the pair and chuckled 
 softly as he expertly weighed the piece of ore in his 
 hand. 
 
 1 'Say, Bob," he remarked, "I wonder if this stuff 
 won't bring England and Ireland somewhat closer 
 together?" 
 
 " 'Bawther'," replied his friend, dryly. Mrs. 
 McGinnis probably will break her record by not 
 quarreling with the mother lode which will be pret- 
 ty good behavior, considering the sex of both." 
 
 "No jokes at the expense of our sex, please," in- 
 terposed Miss Weatherson, merrily, "and be espec- 
 ially careful what you say about Mrs. Mac. She 
 and I have formed an offensive and defensive alli- 
 ance against mere man." 
 
 "You little traitor!" muttered Parker in her pret- 
 ty ear.
 
 CHAPTER XXIX 
 
 SMITHERS MAKES A NEAR-BULL 's-EYE 
 
 There never was a jar of perfectly good ointment 
 but that a fly landed in it. Rarely does humanity 
 enjoy happiness for long without a discordant note 
 creeping in. The devil always finds willing hands 
 to do his work, and his specialty is discords. 
 
 Bob Parker and his friends were but fairly 
 launched in their pleasant occupation of mutual con- 
 gratulations and plans for the future of which 
 latter there naturally were many, commingled with 
 rosy day-dreams that remained half -formed and un- 
 expressed when Tom Horton chanced to look up 
 and saw a man standing in an attitude of uncertainty 
 a few steps away down the trail. To his astonish- 
 ment he recognized the newspaper correspondent, 
 Gordon. 
 
 Noting that he had been seen, the young fellow 
 hesitatingly came up to the party and embarrassed- 
 ly, but gracefully, raised his hat. 
 
 "Beg your pardon if if I have intruded, " he 
 stammered "I was looking for for Mr. Horton." 
 
 "Well, young feller," said that person, icily, "as 
 I'm the man ye 're lookin' fer, ye 're at the end o' yer 
 prospectin ', I reckon. What can I do for ye ? " 
 
 "I wanted to see you about the conversation we 
 had the other evening at the hotel." 
 
 "All, right," snapped Horton, abruptly, "blaze
 
 A NEAR BULL 'S-EYE 513 
 
 "But " Gordon hesitated, reddening up and look- 
 ing doubtfully at the rest of the party. 
 
 "It's all in the family, so cut loose," said Horton, 
 with quick comprehension, "An' see that ye talk 
 mighty durned straight, ' ' he added meaningly, with 
 just a shade of promise of dire results if the young 
 fellow should prove to be anything but "straight." 
 
 This aroused the reporter. He drew himself up 
 with a dignified air and his eyes shone in a way that 
 distinctly appealed to the sheriff. 
 
 "That's what I'm here for, sir," he flashed, spirit- 
 edly. 
 
 "All right, straight it is, then," the sheriff bluntly 
 responded. 
 
 "I want you to know that I'm not really a cad, 
 Mr. Horton," the young man went on earnestly. 
 "I'm here to tell you that I'm heartily ashamed of 
 my part in that transaction and " 
 
 "Spoken like a man!" the sheriff broke in, giving 
 Gordon a vigorous hand-shake. * * Go ahead with yer 
 yarn, young feller. ' ' 
 
 The reporter again looked questioningly at Parker 
 and the ladies. 
 
 "But," he objected, doubtfully, "I really shouldn't 
 like to " 
 
 Parker interrupted by coming forward and coolly 
 facing him. 
 
 "Go on, sir," he said, calmly. "I know all about 
 your conversation with Atherton, and also Mr. Hor- 
 ton 's part in it and Miss Weatherson knows my 
 story. What that yellow hound, Atherton, didn't 
 tell her, I did, so you can be quite at ease. ' ' 
 
 This was a hard facer for the newspaper man. 
 
 What! Atherton told Miss?" 
 
 "Miss Weatherson? Yes." 
 
 Gordon's jaws came together viciously, and the
 
 514 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN , 
 
 expression of Ms eyes boded ill for his quondam 
 friend and co-plotter. 
 
 "The infernal scoundrel!" he exclaimed vindic- 
 tively, between his clenched teeth. 
 
 "Move we make it unanimous!" cried the sheriff, 
 approvingly. "Ye 're makin' a bully good start, 
 young feller. Ease up on the bit and sock in the 
 spurs!" 
 
 The correspondent manfully went on with his ex- 
 planation and apology. 
 
 "I just wanted to say I'm mighty sorry I ever 
 told Atherton that story. The newspaper instinct, 
 fool thoughtlessness and a mistaken sense of what I 
 owed the man for for " 
 
 "Yes, I heard all about that on the eyenin' afore- 
 said," Horton generously hastened to interpose. 
 
 The young fellow's eyes beamed his gratitude as 
 he continued: 
 
 1 * So much by way of apology. Now, I 'm willing to 
 do all I can to square myself. I well, I look at 
 things a little bit differently since I got into this 
 western atmosphere, and " 
 
 "An' a man-killer don't look quite so bad as he 
 used ter, eh?" sententiously interjected the sheriff. 
 
 "W why, I wouldn't put it just just that way, 
 sir." 
 
 "Put it any way you like," said Parker, bluntly, 
 "and don't lose your prejudice against man-killers. 
 I'll not take it as personal, for I'm not in that class." 
 
 The young fellow gazed bewilderedly at him. 
 
 "Oh, wake up, Gordon!" impatiently continued 
 the miner, "I didn't kill that Italian." 
 
 ' ' But but you were ' ' 
 
 "Convicted? Yes, and I was sent to the pen and 
 broke jail, but I was innocent all the same. A job
 
 A NEAR BULL'S-EYE 515 
 
 was put up on me by Bull Hennessy and he land- 
 ed me." 
 
 "Bull Hennessy?" 
 
 "Yes, Bull Hennessy. It's a long story, but I'll 
 tell it to you later, if you care to hear it. Briefly, 
 Hennessy was jealous of me, and without reason. 
 He hired a thug, Butch Harris, to get me. The 
 thug joined the construction gang on a job on the 
 Central, of which I was the engineer, intending 
 to do me in the usual way. The strike came 
 on and he framed up something safer. He made 
 a bunch of our Italian laborers drunk and 
 they set to fighting. I rushed in to quell the disturb- 
 ance and seeing that practically all the men were 
 armed, I felt compelled to draw my own revolver. 
 It accidentally went off in the mixup, the bullet bor- 
 ing a hole in the atmosphere, and striking nothing 
 elbe, so far as I am aware. A man was killed during 
 the fight ; Butch Harris swore the murder onto me ; 
 the Guineas backed him up and I went up the river. 
 How I escaped, you saw in the newspapers. You 
 may have written it up yourself, for all I know. ' ' 
 
 "Great heavens! Can that be true?" cried the 
 now thoroughly amazed reporter. 
 
 "Which the same ain't a very perlite question, 
 my esteemed young friend!" growled the sheriff, 
 belligerently. "Ye can bet yer life it's true an' I 
 stand behind it, right on the flat o ' both feet ! ' ' 
 
 Gordon deliberated for a moment, looking thought- 
 fully at Parker. 
 
 "I think I can see a way to make amends and set 
 matters straight, Mr. er, Parker, he remarked, 
 slowly. "One good newspaper man with a police 
 reporter training who goes after facts, is worth a 
 dozen detectives even clever ones. I'm going to 
 get your case cleared up or bust."
 
 516 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Parker dubiously shook his head. 
 
 "But how?" hopefully chorused the others. 
 
 "I'm going back to New York as soon as the Lord, 
 the devil, or whoever presides over the destinies of 
 newspaper men, will let me, and try to beat Ather- 
 ton's little game. I'm not sure, but I suspect he 
 already has written to the police authorities. What 
 I'll dig up in the way of evidence, and what I'll do 
 to Boss Hennessy'll be a plenty. I may lose my 
 job, but if I land the stuff I'm after, I'll be able to 
 tell even the New York Herald to go to " 
 
 He caught himself just in time. 
 
 "Sing Sing," interjected Parker, glumly. 
 
 "'See here, boy, d'ye mean it?" demanded Horton, 
 seizing the young fellow by both shoulders and look- 
 ing searchingly into his eyes. 
 
 "Surest thing you know, Mr. Horton." 
 
 "You're a brick, Gordon!" exclaimed Parker. 
 
 "Yes, an' he ain't a-goin' ter be thrown out among 
 the c bats,' either," the sheriff remarked, reassuring- 
 ly. "He needn't worry about a job as long as he's 
 representin' the what's the name o' that mine over 
 there, Bob?" 
 
 "The 'Josephine'," laughed his friend, with sud- 
 den inspiration, glancing affectionately at Miss 
 Weatherson. 
 
 "Righto! You've got brains, Bob, an' some 
 nerve," grinned Horton, in pleasant acquiescence. 
 
 "I reckon the new assignment '11 pan out about 
 as well as any he ever tackled, eh, Bob?" he con- 
 tinued, playfully poking the young miner in the 
 short ribs with his thumb. 
 
 "I think it will, Tom, if my ribs hold out," gasped 
 his friend, with a wince. 
 
 "Meanwhile," volunteered the sheriff, "seein' as 
 how the mill hain 't ground out much color from the
 
 A NEAE BULL'S-EYE 517 
 
 Josephine yet, I'll grub-stake our special police-re- 
 porter-correspondent-sleuth if he needs it." 
 
 Miss Weatherson, who had been eagerly drinking 
 in the conversation, went to Gordon and pressed his 
 hands in heart-felt appreciation. 
 
 " You don't know what your interest means to to 
 Mr. Parker and " 
 
 "I understand perfectly, Miss Weatherson," in- 
 terjected the reporter, with delicate comprehension 
 and evident warmth and sincerity. 
 
 "Meet me at the hotel this evening and bring Mr. 
 Horton with you," he said, turning to Parker, "I 
 want to get the full details of your case and map out 
 my campaign. I shall leave on the morning stage." 
 
 The correspondent bade everybody adieu and 
 started town-ward. He had gone only a little way 
 when he stopped short and, after keenly glancing 
 down the trail, gave a sharp exclamation, suddenly 
 sprang back and turning rejoined the party. 
 
 "And the devil came also !" he exclaimed. "Here 
 comes Atherton ! ' ' 
 
 "Atherton!" cried Parker in intense excitement, 
 "hide yourselves, everybody! Get into the cabin, 
 Tom!" 
 
 "He musn't see me here!" said Gordon, "I'll 
 have to cut stick ! ' ' and he plunged down the hillside 
 in front of the cabin and was soon lost to sight 
 among the trees and rocks. 
 
 Smithers languidly rose from the stump where he 
 was sitting beside his innamorata and, with great 
 deliberation, ensconsced himself behind the luckless 
 tree which absorbed so much of his time of mornings. 
 Miss Weatherson disappeared behind the corner 6f 
 the cabin, and Ellen hurried into the cabin, the sher- 
 iff following her with rather incautious slowness.
 
 518 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Horton stopped at the partially open door and un- 
 certainly turned to his friend. 
 
 "You may need the sheriff, Bob." 
 
 "Don't you ever believe it, Tom," replied Parker, 
 confidently. 
 
 "Where's yer gim?" 
 
 "On the table in the cabin, but never mind the 
 gun." 
 
 "You'll take it all the same, my boy." 
 
 Horton dove into the cabin and raced back at a 
 gallop with the belt and gun-filled holster. 
 "Here, you easy mark, strap 'er on!" 
 
 "All right, Tom, if it makes you feel any better." 
 
 He quickly fastened the belt around his waist, 
 swinging the gun into proper position, and Horton, 
 with a relieved expression, hurriedly returned to 
 the cabin, stopping just within and anxiously peek- 
 ing back at his friend from behind the almost closed 
 door. 
 
 "Don't take a chance, Bob," he cautioned, solic- 
 itously. 
 
 "Don't worry, old man. Ever see a foot-ball 
 game ? ' ' returned Parker, dryly. 
 
 "Yes, once." 
 
 "How did it strike you?" 
 
 "Didn't strike me at all," chuckled Horton, "it 
 was them suckers that was playin' the game that got 
 hit. But it reminded me of a saloon row, a prize 
 fight, a wrestlin' match an' a lynchin bee, all rolled 
 inter one nasty scrap." 
 
 "Well, I once was half-back on the Harvard 
 team, and some folks thought I could go some. Just 
 let that fellow start something, that's all." 
 
 "A foot-ball player, eh? God help Atherton!" 
 laughed the sheriff. 
 
 "S sh! Shut the door, Tom. Here he comes."
 
 A NEAR BULL'S-EYE 519 
 
 Horton closed the door and took a position where, 
 through the corner of the window, he could watch 
 the proceedings from within the cabin. Parker seat- 
 ed himself on the bench beneath the window, coolly 
 took out his knife, picked up a piece of rock from 
 a pile that lay near and began examining particles 
 which he dug from its surface, meanwhile humming 
 a popular air. 
 
 Atherton was on horseback. He appeared at the 
 crest of the trail, dismounted, hitched his mount to 
 a tree and slowly swaggered up to the cabin. Sud- 
 denly noticing Parker, he greeted him with an off- 
 hand, offensive familiarity which cost that gentle- 
 man a tremendous effort to contain himself and sup- 
 press the desire to kick the fellow down the hill. 
 
 1 'Hello, Parker!" 
 
 "Good morning, Atherton," tranquilly responded 
 the young miner. " Little off your regular beat, 
 aren't you?" 
 
 "Never mind my beat," retorted the promoter, 
 with an insolent air. "I'm here to talk over a lit- 
 tle business with you, Parker." 
 
 " So ? Why didn 't you call during business hours ? 
 You see, I loaf forenoons and afternoons." 
 
 "Indeed," sneered the visitor. "Where did you 
 contract the loafing habit at the hotel up the Hud- 
 son?" 
 
 "' Hotel up the Hudson?' I don't quite follow 
 you." 
 
 "What are you trying to give me, Parker," chal- 
 lenged Atherton, leering insultingly. 
 
 "Nothing yet," laconically replied the young 
 man, yawning widely and luxuriously stretching his 
 magnificent limbs. * * Warm day, isn 't it, Atherton T ' ' 
 
 He rose and pointedly turning his back to his vis- 
 itor, calmly removed his belt with its holster and
 
 520 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 gun and hung them on a convenient nail on the cabin 
 door. 
 
 With malicious satisfaction, Atherton watched the 
 young man apparently putting himself at his mercy. 
 
 "You fool!" he contemptuously muttered to him- 
 self. 
 
 Parker returned to his seat on the bench and with 
 an ineffably bored expression lit his pipe and puffed 
 away as unconcernedly as though no enemy was in 
 sight. 
 
 "You say you have some business with me, Ather- 
 ton?" he yawned, with a fine show of indolence, 
 through the dense clouds of tobacco smoke in which 
 he had enveloped himself. 
 
 "Yes, and I'll make it brief." 
 
 "Pray do I'm beginning to like your style. Fire 
 away." 
 
 "A certain party by the name of Parkyn, is here 
 in the Hills, ' ' continued the promoter with unmistak- 
 able malevolence. "He's wanted in New York. He 's 
 an escaped murderer from Sing Sing penitentiary. 
 I want to give him a chance to make his get-away 
 from Deadwood. ' ' 
 
 "Yes? That's very good of you, I'm sure. The 
 gentleman ought to appreciate your friendly inter- 
 est," remarked Parker, urbanely, "but just where 
 do I come in?" 
 
 "You know very well where you come in, Mr. Eob- 
 ert 'Parker'," was the sneering reply. 
 
 "Ah! I see, you want Bob Parker to tell his 
 friend, Parkyn, to get out of your way," suavely 
 answered the young miner. 
 
 "Good guess! You're waking up," was the sar- 
 castic rejoinder. 
 
 Parker rose to his feet and tensed his lithe, pow-
 
 A NEAR BULL'S-EYE 521 
 
 erful muscles like a big tiger-cat getting ready to 
 spring. 
 
 "Yes I'll be wide awake* in a minute," he replied, 
 ominously. "But suppose Parkyn won't leave, what 
 then?" 
 
 "Then I'll see that he gets free transportation to 
 New York in bracelets. ' ' 
 
 Parker took an aggressive step toward his visitor 
 and looked him straight in the eye. 
 
 "Speaking as the representative of Robert Par- 
 kyn, Jim Atherton," he said, coolly and incisively, 
 "you will please go plumb straight to hell!" 
 
 "So, you're going to try to bluff me out, eh, Par- 
 kyn?" snarled Atherton, viciously. "Well, for a 
 jail-bird that's hiding like a frightened rabbit, you've 
 got your gall with you. All right, then, you can take 
 your medicine!" He turned and started towards 
 his horse. 
 
 "My word! Rude fellah that, don'tcher know," 
 commented Smithers, under his breath, half re- 
 vealing himself for a moment from behind his tree 
 and then stepping back into concealment, from which 
 he peered interestedly at his partner and the depart- 
 ing visitor. 
 
 Parker intercepted Atherton, getting between him 
 and the animal, just as that worthy was about to 
 unhitch his horse. 
 
 "What's your hurry, my philanthropic friend?" 
 sneered the miner, caustically, "I want to remark 
 before we go any further, that when I take medicine, 
 it will not be from your spoon, you contemptible 
 cur!" 
 
 ' ' Say, Atherton, ' ' he coolly went on, without wait- 
 ing for a reply, "were you ever man-handled?" 
 
 "No, and I'm not going to be, either."
 
 522 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ' * Oh yes you are ! ' ' retorted Parker, with sig- 
 nificant deliberation, drawing closer to his foe. 
 
 Atherton retreated backward, step by step, the 
 now coldly-menacing young miner slowly following 
 him, until they again were in front of the shack, 
 Both men stopped and warily eyed each other. 
 
 "Better not start anything, Parker, the weather 
 is still warm," said the promoter, glancing sugges- 
 tively at the belt and gun hanging on the door. 
 
 The young man noticed the direction of his en- 
 emy's glance. 
 
 ' * Say, Atherton, do you know why I took off that 
 gun?" 
 
 ' 'Because you were a damned fool," chuckled 
 Atherton, with a triumphant leer. 
 
 "No not because I was a fool, but because I was 
 wise wise to you, and to Robert Parkyn's best in- 
 terests. I knew what was coming knew I'd be 
 tempted and I didn't propose to take any chances. 
 I've had my lesson. I hate to kill even a rattlesnake 
 that's what saves you, my friend. If every man 
 could have a taste of the hell I 've gone through, the 
 gun factories would be put out of business. 
 
 * ' But even going through a hell of body and mind, 
 hasn't chilled my sporting blood any, Atherton," he 
 continued, tensely clenching his fists and menacingly 
 stepping closer to his foe. "What I'm going to 
 do to you in about thirty seconds would make a rail- 
 road accident look like a Virginia reel at a butterfly 
 ball." 
 
 "It would, eh? Two can play at that game, you 
 damned murderer ! ' ' snarled Athertpn savagely, with 
 a backward spring and going to his hip pocket for 
 his gun. 
 
 Parker was on the fellow like a flash, grappled 
 with him, and catching his pistol hand twisted the
 
 A NEAE BULL'S-EYE 523 
 
 weapon from his grasp, threw it down the hill into 
 the brush and hurled the assassin to the ground so 
 hard that the fall knocked the wind completely out 
 of him. 
 
 At this point Smithers stepped out of ambush and 
 stood gaping at the scene. 
 
 "Most extraor 'nary, really!" he drawled. 
 
 Like a true sportsman, Parker stood back a pace 
 and waited for his enemy to rise. 
 
 "Humph!" he ejaculated, with satirical contempt; 
 "It's a shame to take the money!" 
 
 Atherton managed to pull himself together and 
 scrambled to his feet, puffing and blowing like an 
 angry porpoise. 
 
 "I'll fix you for that, you damned jail-bird!" he 
 shouted. 
 
 Drawing a formidable looking bowie from his in- 
 side coat pocket, he rushed like a maniac at Parker, 
 with the keen, glittering blade uplifted to strike 
 and to kill! 
 
 Miss Weatherson gave a scream, and emerging 
 from her place of concealment around the corner 
 of the cabin, stood gazing at the encounter as if 
 helplessly fascinated. 
 
 Horton left his place of observation at the cabin 
 window and rushed frantically out of the door, draw- 
 ing his gun as he ran. 
 
 He was about to fire at the assassin, when there 
 was a loud report and the ruffan crumpled up and 
 fell like a tree under the ax, with a ball through his 
 chest ! 
 
 Looking in the direction from which the shot was 
 fired, the party saw the doughty Smithers, nursing 
 his fingers and gazing curiously at his .44, which 
 was lying smoking on the ground some distance
 
 524 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 away, where it had been hurled by the recoil of the 
 shot and his involuntary muscular effort. 
 
 Ellen, who had come to the cabin door and had 
 been standing there almost paralyzed with fright, 
 recovered herself and rushing to Smithers threw 
 her arms about his neck. 
 
 "Oh, Ponsy! Ponsy! she snivelled, hysterically, 
 burying her retrousse nose in the miner's coarse 
 and by no means spotless shirt. 
 
 Miss Weatherson hurried to her lover, who was 
 gazing in dumb astonishment at Smithers. 
 
 "Oh, Mr. Parker! Robert! are you hurt?" she 
 cried, overwhelmed with anxiety and oblivious to 
 everything save her concern for his safety. 
 
 "No, dear," he whispered, reassuringly, "and if 
 I were, this would cure me," and he clasped her in 
 his arms. 
 
 Horton saw and looked away for a brief instant. 
 There were some things that even he, lion-hearted 
 though he was, could not face off-hand. Deep down 
 in the rugged, honest man's soul of him, he knew that 
 true mating never could be onesided and that all 
 was as it should have been. He loved Bob Parker, 
 and there was no envy, no bitterness in his heart. 
 And yet well, it was only human to regret that the 
 fates had not decreed that he should be in his 
 friend's shoes. 
 
 Smithers disengaged Ellen's energetic clasp from 
 his neck, put one arm protectingly around her waist, 
 and tranquilly surveyed the field of battle. 
 
 "Most extraor'nary! what?" he commented 
 wonderingly, looking alternately at his still smoking 
 revolver and his professor of small-arms practice 
 the sheriff. 
 
 Horton replaced his gun in its holster and went 
 to the wounded man, who was supporting himself
 
 A NEAR BULL'S-EYE 525 
 
 on one hand and painfully gasping for breath, the 
 air whistling in and out of the hole in his lung and 
 whipping the blood into crimson froth. 
 
 He silently looked Atherton over and then turned 
 his gaze on Smithers. 
 
 "Well, I'll bed " 
 
 He bethought himself of the fair listeners and 
 smothered the impending profanity. 
 
 Returning his attention to the wounded man he 
 remarked, dryly: 
 
 "Went lookin' fer it, didn't ye?" 
 
 He turned to Miss "Weatherson : 
 
 "Have ye a fresh handkerchief about ye, ma'am? 
 I wanter cork up the hole in this party's bellows 
 it'sleakin'." 
 
 The young woman handed him a filmy, lace-bord- 
 ered handkerchief, and he applied it to the wound in 
 Atherton 's chest, binding it on with his own neck- 
 erchief and pocket bandana. 
 
 "There," he said, grimly, "that'll hold enough o' 
 yer black blood in yer derned carcass ter keep ye 
 a-goin' till Doc. Jones can do a better job. I wanter 
 save ye fer a terrible example." 
 
 Smithers left his Dulcinea, picked up his gun and 
 came toward the sheriff, who met him half way. 
 
 "The bloomin' blighter!" exclaimed the English- 
 man, looking towards his prostrate quarry then 
 after a careful inspection of the .44 that he was gin- 
 gerly carrying, he remarked, "Rippin' good idea 
 that, Mr. Horton, shootin' from the hip very!" 
 
 Horton slapped his pupil heartily on the back. 
 
 "Didn't I tell ye to call me 'Tom,' ye blood-thirs- 
 ty man-eater?" 
 
 Parker joined them and affectionately grasped 
 his partner by the hand. 
 
 "Smithers, my friend," he said, gratefully,
 
 526 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 " you've made me rich and saved my life all in one 
 day. That's a pretty good score, old man, and I'll 
 not forget it." 
 
 "An' don't forget the near-bull's-eye he just made. 
 Pretty good for a tenderfoot, eh, Smithers?" joshed 
 Horton. 
 
 The Englishman drew himself up with offended 
 dignity and registered a protest which was rather 
 emphatic for him. 
 
 "Call me Ponsy, if you don't mind, Mr. er, Tom. 
 An' I'm not quite keen on that tenderfoot stuff, 
 don'tcher know." 
 
 "Eight you are, Ponsy, old sox! But put up yer 
 blawsted gun game's up," laughed the sheriff. 
 
 "My word," said Smithers, from sheer force of 
 habit, it's so bloomin' hot it might bally well burn 
 me trousers ! what I ' ' 
 
 Then with sudden recollection the redoubtable gun- 
 man put his trusty .44 back in its holster, amid the 
 affectionate smiles of everybody save the miserable 
 victim of his expert marksmanship. 
 
 Thanks to a naturally good constitution and the 
 wonderful, health-giving air of the hill country, Ath- 
 erton speedily recovered from his wound. This des- 
 pite the rough nursing provided by certain citizens 
 of Deadwood, who magnanimously volunteered to 
 aid the efforts of a young army surgeon who chanced 
 to be stationed with his command in the Hills, and 
 in whose hands the wounded man was fortunate 
 enough to be placed thereby escaping "Doc" Jones. 
 
 Horton watched the prisoner and the progress of 
 the case very carefully and as soon as the surgeon in 
 charge notified him that his patient could stand a stage 
 ride, had a rather interesting interview with the con- 
 valescent, and another with some of the more tur-
 
 A NEAR BULL'S-EYE 527 
 
 bulent spirits of the town who had expressed an ar- 
 dent desire to lynch the prisoner as soon as he was 
 well enough to appreciate the finer points of the 
 proposed ceremony. The sheriff's remarks in both 
 instances were sufficiently convincing to enable him 
 to carry his point. His end of the conversation, 
 with Atherton especially, was very comprehensible 
 and as brief as was consistent with clearness. As 
 Horton himself expressed it, he "told the infernal 
 scoundrel jest where he got off, took the freedom o' 
 the city away from him an' told him ter pull his 
 freight, muy pronto." 
 
 Parker did not wish to have his would-be slayer 
 punished further, and so, as a logical outcome of 
 the interview, just three weeks after Deadwood's 
 tacitly acknowledged militant wonder, Smithers, had 
 used Atherton as a target and perforated his lung, 
 the promoter slunk into an obscure corner of the 
 morning stage, and departed from Deadwood, still 
 sore in body and full of the gall and wormwood of 
 defeat and the humiliation of knowing that he was 
 hated and despised by everybody in town. 
 
 When he finally had shaken the dust of the Black 
 Hills off his feet which time-worn expression was 
 in hi& case literal and descriptive rather than met- 
 aphoric Atherton promised himself the most dire 
 revenge upon his foes through the discomfiture of 
 the person that he hated most of all, Bob Parker. 
 
 The bumping and shaking of the stiff-springed 
 stage did not assuage Atherton 's feelings, nor take 
 the edge off his keen desire to get even, for the^ jar 
 painfully reminded him that he still was on the list 
 of the maimed and physically incapacitated. 
 
 When, half -dead, he had laboriously clambered up- 
 on the train at Bismarck, en route for the east, he 
 vengefully shook his fist in the direction of the Black
 
 528 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Hills and rabidly vowed that he would one day settle 
 his score in a manner that should be very discomfort- 
 ing to the enemies he had left behind. 
 
 That the disgruntled promoter's direful intentions 
 were as sincere as his resentment was bitter, was des- 
 tined to develop later, in a manner that should leave 
 no room for doubt that he had done his best to even 
 up matters with his enemies. 
 
 Parker and Smithers went steadily on with the 
 development of their mine, the results proving that 
 the enthusiasm with which the first specimens of ore 
 from the mother lode were greeted was more than 
 justified. 
 
 They put themselves in touch with certain finan- 
 cial interests in the east, and soon were faced with 
 the necessity of deciding whether they would sell the 
 mine outright, or incorporate it and, retaining a con- 
 trolling interest, continue to work it in behalf of 
 the company. 
 
 The latter plan especially appealed to the two 
 partners because, for obvious reasons, they desired 
 to remain in the Black Hills. It finally was decided 
 that the matter of incorporation should be seriously 
 taken up as soon as the work of development had 
 proceeded far enough to show advantageously the 
 alluring prospect to parties whom they might at- 
 tempt to interest in the venture. 
 
 By mutual agreement Miss Weatherson and Par- 
 ker saw little of each other, the latter still enter- 
 tained the same pessimistic views regarding their 
 relations that he had expressed to her at the school- 
 house on the afternoon when he and his arch-enemy, 
 Atherton, told her his story. The young miner's 
 aversion to any definite plans regarding their future 
 was enhanced by the knowledge that, figuratively, he
 
 A NEAE BULL'S-EYE 529 
 
 was sitting upon a keg of powder which was likely to 
 blow up at any minute. 
 
 Parker really felt that Gordon would do his best 
 to disentangle the web in which fate had enmeshed 
 him the day he had accepted the position on the rail- 
 road construction work at A . . . ., but he could 
 not shake off the gloomy foreboding that the corres- 
 pondent was destined to fail. 
 
 The young man wisely concluded that hard work 
 was the only remedy for his moody impressions of 
 the future, hence the town saw very little of him for 
 some time. He barely kept in touch with his friends 
 and admirers, and that was all. As for the impend- 
 ing campaign, it was sure to be satisfactory to him, 
 whatever the outcome. He therefore ignored it al- 
 together until a few days before the election, when 
 he felt that he must show his friends, by doing some 
 speaking, that he appreciated their interest in him. 
 
 Miss Weatherson went serenely on with her teach- 
 ing, endearing herself more and more each day to 
 her pupils and their parents. She, too, was an en- 
 thusiastic exponent of the gospel of work, but unlike 
 the object of her affections, the horizon of her hopes 
 was illumed with rose tints and the promise of golden 
 hours of happiness throughout a long life of congen- 
 ial companionship and mutual love. Believing im- 
 plicitly in her lover's innocence and in the logic of 
 events, the young woman really was happy in look- 
 ing forward to the good things which, she felt sure, 
 the fates were in duty bound eventually to bestow 
 upon them. 
 
 It is thus that rosy optimism and serene and 
 alas ! often misplaced confidence in the final vindi- 
 cation of right and justice ever wait upon youth. 
 
 Supported by feminine intuition, backed by the 
 faith inspired by inexperience with the world of hu-
 
 530 TEUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 man duplicity and self-interested machination, the 
 young woman never for a moment doubted that Gor- 
 don would succeed in his mission in the east and, 
 as the days rolled on, looked f orward with increasing 
 eagerness to his return.
 
 CHAPTER XXX 
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 
 
 Election day finally arrived and dawned as clear 
 and crisp as is the wont of well-behaved early No- 
 vember days in the Black Hills. 
 
 From the interest and excitement displayed by the 
 citizens of Deadwood, one might have inferred that 
 momentous issues were at stake, instead of an elec- 
 tion in which the public was bound to be pleased, no 
 matter which candidate was successful. But the pop- 
 ulation of the town was a decidedly sporty one, and 
 Horton stated the truth when he stated that it wanted 
 a fair betting proposition in politics as well as in ev- 
 erything else that could be construed as a game. 
 
 The two friends and rivals entered into the spirit 
 of the thing and were on hand bright and early, 
 making superfluous stump speeches to delighted aud- 
 iences and thoroughly enjoying the amusing situa- 
 tion. 
 
 They followed each other around and alternated 
 in their speeches between eulogizing the opposition 
 candidate and "roasting" him good-naturedly as 
 one whose election inevitably would ruin the coun- 
 try, cause the gold to ooze out of the hills and roll 
 away into some seismic chasm, or precipitate an up- 
 rising of hostile Indians and the storming of the 
 sheriff's office. At every telling point and bit of
 
 532 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 repartee the crowd convulsed itself with glee or 
 frantically applauded the speaker. 
 
 Horton wittily admitted his opponent's pulchri- 
 tude, but offset this by laying particular stress on his 
 obvious inexperience and the alleged fact that his 
 feet were still tender, and of a pink color. He was 
 sure of their color, for had he not seen them, many, 
 many times? 
 
 Parker, on the other hand, called especial attention 
 to Horton 's decrepitude and consequent physical de- 
 bility, a point which resulted in a challenge to a 
 wrestling bout, to be pulled off after the election was 
 over each man disclaiming a desire to maim a per- 
 fectly good opposing candidate before the result had 
 been announced. The young miner further asserted 
 that his opponent's mental faculties surely must be 
 failing, or he never would have entered a race in 
 which he was sure to be beaten. 
 
 The crowd yelled itself hoarse at these sallies and 
 fairly howled for more. 
 
 Save for a few bibulous enthusiasts who evidenced 
 a desire to " shoot up" the town, which desire was 
 speedily repressed by the deputies whom the sheriff 
 had appointed for the day, the election was devoid of 
 unpleasantness and as interesting and amusing a 
 farce as American politics ever produced which is 
 much to say, for farce-comedy is the dominant char- 
 acteristic of politics in our beloved country. 
 
 Nearly everybody had knocked off work for the 
 day and as the male population was not large enough 
 to congest the single polling booth at the postoffice, 
 the balloting practically was over long before noon. 
 
 The majority of the men voted bright and early 
 in the morning and then proceeded to make a holiday
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 533 
 
 * 
 
 of it, which consisted in loafing about in what was by 
 common consent the "public square," and making 
 frequent excursions into the neighboring saloons, 
 McGinnis's bar getting, as usual, the lion's share 
 of the patronage. 
 
 The public square was merely the space at the 
 intersection of the main street of the town with a 
 smaller street. 
 
 On the corner stood the Miners' Rest, with its 
 alluring invitation to all and sundry to partake of 
 the solid comforts and liquid refreshments within, 
 emblazoned across its front in enormous letters in 
 black and white, evidently done by a 'prentice hand, 
 who made up in enthusiasm and liberality in the use 
 of his colors what he obviously lacked in artistic tech- 
 nic and accuracy of detail. 
 
 Flanking the hotel on one side was a large general 
 store and a butcher's shop. 
 
 On the opposite corner of the intersecting street 
 was a .drug store, the proprietor of which practiced 
 "medicine and surgery" when he was not selling 
 pain-killers, spavin cures, kidney-plasters, quinine, 
 bandages, paint or putty. 
 
 Opposite the hotel was the postoffice, and adjoining 
 the latter the office of that inevitable and useful fac- 
 tor of pioneer civilization in America, the Wells- 
 Fargo Express Company. The stage and express 
 offices were one. 
 
 In front of the postoffice was a great wooden 
 horse-trough, the use of which was divided between 
 thirsty equines and certain waggish individuals who 
 were wont to add to the gayety of nations by sousing 
 in it such "bums" as were not especially noted for 
 skill in gunnery or knife play.
 
 534 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 On several occasions this form of pleasantry had 
 been attended by unfortunate mistakes in the selec- 
 tion of bums, which errors of judgment had added 
 little to the reputation and safety of the water-cure, 
 but had done much to establish the surgical fame of 
 old "Doc." Jones, the proprietor of the corner drug 
 store across the way. 
 
 Adjoining the express office was a hardware store, 
 which ran the saloons a close second in popularity. 
 Guns, big and little, ammunition of all kinds, knives 
 for belt and pocket, and belts and holsters vied with 
 picks, shovels and blasting powder in attracting the 
 attention of the citizens and bidding for patronage. 
 
 Horses in abundance and variety, among which 
 were numerous specimens of that distinctive variety 
 of quadruped known as the "cow pony," constantly 
 were to be seen tethered in front of the express 
 and post-offices. The neighing and stamping of 
 these animals was intermingled with the raucous, 
 plaintive song of that indispensable aid to the moun- 
 taineer, euphoniously yclept the "Rocky Mountain 
 Canary," the burro. A herd of these humble little 
 burden-bearers nearly always was to be seen in the 
 public square, patiently awaiting the enormous loads 
 of supplies with which they were destined to be load- 
 ed on the return trip to the mines, or to the towns 
 further up in the Hills. 
 
 The crowd in the square on the day of the election 
 was large and motley and the assortment of animals 
 tethered all up and down the street was corres- 
 pondingly numerous and varied. 
 
 Slinking about among the horses or whining and 
 smelling at the heels of the men, was a number of 
 mangy-looking curs, with an occasional dog of nobler
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 535 
 
 lineage, who endeavored to exhibit a dignity which 
 was with difficulty preserved amid the yelps and 
 snappings of his humbler brethren. 
 
 The men who stood about in groups or leisurely 
 strolled in and out of the various public houses, were 
 of all sorts and conditions. The majority of the 
 crowd was composed of miners, but there was a 
 sprinkling of cow-boys and a few well-dressed men 
 who evidently were of the class that preys upon the 
 man who earns his bread by the " sweat of his pick," 
 defrauding him by the ''short card" or the " pro- 
 motion" method. 
 
 A party of gaily-bedecked Indians added color and 
 picturesqueness to the scene. They phlegmatically 
 stood aloof and with expressionless curiosity sur- 
 veyed the crowd, talking but little in their odd gutter- 
 als and expressing their feelings by an occasional 
 grunt. 
 
 The rival candidates continued their speech-mak- 
 ing until dinner-time. Horton had been orating 
 from an upturned whisky barrel in front of the post- 
 office. His political opponent was haranguing a 
 crowd of his own from the steps of the Miners' Best 
 on the other side of the street. 
 
 In the midst of the speeches, Sam appeared at the 
 door of the hotel and hammered noisily on a huge 
 gong. 
 
 "Hello, Tom! The race problem is too much for 
 me!" cried Parker at his rival across the square. 
 "I can't talk against Sam and that gong, so let's 
 call it a draw ! ' ' 
 
 "Ah ha! You quitter, you!" Horton shouted 
 back at him. "You're hungry, that's what ails 
 you!" 
 
 "Very well, I'll admit it, so let it go at that, but 
 let's call it off."
 
 536 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "Want ter take another fall out o' me after din- 
 ner, Bob?" 
 
 "No, you can have the rest of the votes." 
 
 "Hear that, boys?" yelled the sheriff. "Bob's re- 
 signed in my favor ! ' ' 
 
 The crowd howled itself hoarse and somebody 
 yelled : 
 
 "All right, Sheriff, we'll see you later. Be sure 
 and be on hand for the returns. ' ' 
 
 "Five o'clock, boys," Parker called out, "and 
 don't let Tom get at that ballot box." 
 
 ' ' Never fear, you fellers ! ' ' Horton countered ; " I '11 
 bet Bob '11 have it in the hotel safe inside o' twen- 
 ty minutes!" 
 
 The people laughed good-naturedly and dispersed, 
 after vociferously and impartially cheering both can- 
 didates. 
 
 A good-sized crowd had gathered and the square 
 was pretty well filled, long before the hour appoint- 
 ed for announcing the results of the election, and by 
 five o'clock practically the entire town was on hand 
 to receive the returns. 
 
 The women turned out in force to hear proclaimed 
 the winner of the unique contest. Both candidates 
 were popular with them, for the incumbent of the 
 office of Sheriff had proved a most capable and sen- 
 sible official, and his rival, although a comparatively 
 recent addition to the social atmosphere of Dead- 
 wood, had won the friendship and esteem of 
 everybody in the place. Frontier towns are quick 
 accurately to estimate the worth of new-comers and 
 classify them, and where the town and country them- 
 selves are new, the "Oldest Inhabitant" fad is not
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 537 
 
 a prominent feature of either the social or the polit- 
 ical life. 
 
 It would be difficult to explain why the parties 
 who controlled the machinery of the election delayed 
 the returns until so late in the afternoon. The local 
 offices of which that of Sheriff was considered the 
 most important, and certainly was the only one which 
 had excited any interest were few and the voting 
 population comparatively scanty. Possibly the po- 
 litical powers in the crude little mining town desired 
 to impress the public with their own importance and 
 the solemnity due the occasion. Perhaps, on the 
 other hand, the parties aforesaid were merely lazy. 
 
 While the crowd was good-humoredly awaiting the 
 returns, quite a number of the men occupied their 
 time in placing bets on their favorite candidate. 
 Betting was spirited and ran high. The frontiers- 
 man rarely is a " piker" when it comes to a betting 
 proposition. 
 
 So interested was everybody in the betting and 
 the quips and sallies of those participating, that 
 the stage rolled in and discharged its passengers 
 without attracting especial attention, although there 
 was a larger influx of strangers than usual. 
 
 A little after five o'clock the election " commis- 
 sion," composed of Dixie and two of his fellow min- 
 ers, made its report amid a volley of enthusiastic 
 comments and gibes from the crowd. 
 
 Dixie climbed to the top of the whisky barrel from 
 which Horton had been speaking and in stentorian ac- 
 cents proclaimed the result of the election. 
 
 The announcement that Bob Parker had won by a 
 small majority was received with such wild enthusi- 
 asm that the onlooker who was not familiar with the
 
 538 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 situation never for a moment would have suspected 
 that there had been a political contest, but would 
 have concluded that the crowd had gathered merely 
 for the purpose of celebrating some important and 
 unanimously popular event. 
 
 Everybody was especially pleased by the narrow- 
 ness of the margin by which the successful candidate 
 won. The nearness to a tie vote soothed the feelings 
 of those who had lost their bets, merely by vindi- 
 cating their judgment in selecting a candidate who 
 almost came under the wire ahead of the other fel- 
 low. 
 
 The crowd yelled and cheered until its collective 
 throat was almost split and quite dry much to the 
 edification of the purveyors of liquids in that vicin- 
 ity, and especially to the satisfaction of Mr. McGin- 
 nis, whose business was more prosperous than ever 
 that afternoon. 
 
 The only persons in sight who were oblivious to 
 the prevailing enthusiasm were Smithers and Ellen, 
 who were sitting on the hotel veranda engaged in 
 earnest conversation to which the lively and viva- 
 cious little Irish lass was the chief and at times 
 sole contributor, the Englishman looking his adora- 
 tion in lieu of speaking, thereby saving his proto- 
 plasmic poise. 
 
 Having cast his vote for his partner keenly re- 
 gretting that he could not vote for both candidates 
 Smithers' lackadaisical interest in Black Hills poli- 
 tics temporarily had subsided, his attention revert- 
 ing to the only thing that interested him when he was 
 off duty at the minehis love affair. 
 
 Dixie was about to jump down from his improvised 
 pedestal, when Parker came in sight down the cross 
 street.
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 539 
 
 "There comes the new sheriff, boys!" cried the 
 miner; "Let's cut loose and give him the grand 
 razoo ! ' ' 
 
 As the winner of the election swung into full view, 
 the crowd surely did "cut loose" with a will and 
 greeted him with wild whoops and cheers. 
 
 Smithers woke up from his blissful trance and 
 ambled to the edge of the veranda, followed by El- 
 len. 
 
 "Rawther slow, Dixie, old chap, don'tcher know," 
 he complained. Let's give him a ripper! what?" 
 
 ' ' You bet ! ' ' replied the miner. * ' Once more, boys ! 
 Three cheers fer Bob Parker, an' don't save yer 
 blasted lungs !" 
 
 The cheers were given with a will. 
 
 "Tiger!" yelled Dixie. 
 
 The tiger was forthcoming and fairly shook the 
 rickety buildings surrounding the square. 
 
 Smithers evidently was satisfied with the results 
 for he complacently remarked : 
 
 1 1 Most extraor 'nary, that tiger ! Very. ' ' 
 
 The women in the crowd and several other females 
 whose heads were popping out of neighboring win- 
 dows added their quota to the general uproar by 
 clapping their hands. Ellen frantically waved her 
 handkerchief at the newly-elected official. 
 
 McGinnis and his dusky helper, Sam, came to the 
 door and joined in the din. Sam howled like a fiend, 
 grinning until the top of his head looked like a 
 black, woolly dome floating on a sea of ivory, whilst 
 his boss took a hand in directing the celebration. 
 
 Coming to the front of the veranda, the Irishman 
 shouted : 
 
 "Pfwat's the matter wid Misther Parker?" 
 
 The crowd having variously and with emphasis 
 assured McGinnis that Bob was "all right," "A
 
 540 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 1," a " solid Muldoon" and "No. 1, first chop," the 
 hero of the occasion modestly came forward and 
 smilingly acknowledged the ovation. 
 
 "Thank you, boys." 
 
 Amid numerous loud cries of "Speech! Speech! 
 Parker! Speech!" the sheriff-elect passed through 
 his noisy admirers and ascended the hotel steps. 
 
 "My friends," he said, feelingly, "I didn't expect 
 this warm reception. If I had," he turned to the 
 Englishman "I should have asked my partner here, 
 Mr. Smithers, to prepare a speech for me. He says 
 he writes better English than I do, and you all will 
 admit that he talks it!" 
 
 Everybody laughed and applauded this sally, 
 which Smithers accepted with due modesty, as be- 
 came a recipient of a compliment that he himself 
 believed to be deserved. 
 
 "And, by the way, boys," Parker continued, lay- 
 ing his hand on his partner's shoulder, "if he hadn't 
 been as successful in handling a gun as he is in 
 developing prospects, today's contest for the office 
 of Sheriff would have been a one-sided affair." 
 
 Smithers was cheered to the echo. 
 
 "I am not sure," laughed the speaker, "that he 
 would not have made a better sheriff than either 
 Tom Horton or myself." 
 
 The crowd roared at this and gave another rousing 
 cheer. 
 
 "But, after all," said Parker, seriously, "prepar- 
 ation is not necessary for the expression of senti- 
 ments that come straight from the heart. I came 
 among you a few short months ago, a total stranger, 
 with pink toes and tender soles as my friend Hor- 
 ton would say and you people of the great west 
 took me to your hearts and gave me your confidence. 
 Today you have elected me to the most important
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 541 
 
 and responsible office within your jurisdiction. This 
 is a proud moment for me, boys, for not only have 
 you done me honor and shown the confidence you 
 repose in one who is almost a stranger to you, but 
 you have displaced a far better man to make room 
 for me " 
 
 Here the crowd interrupted with cheers of "No!" 
 "No!" 
 
 The speaker smiled and went on. 
 
 "Oh, yes you have. There's only one Tom Hor- 
 ton, and you know it, mighty well, and if he hadn't 
 plugged for me on the quiet instead of taking care 
 of his own fences, he'd have licked me, hands down. 
 But, my friends, I 'm going to try to make good, and 
 with Tom to advise me, I hope to succeed." 
 
 Parker looked towards the postoffice and saw his 
 friend Horton in the rear of the throng, peering over 
 the heads of the listeners and deprecatingly shaking 
 his head at the speaker's complimentary allusions 
 to himself. 
 
 "Hello!" shouted Parker, "there's Tom, now! 
 Three cheers for Tom Horton ! Now, altogether 
 whoop 'er up, boys ! ' ' 
 
 The salvo of cheers and a tiger were given with 
 cordial good will and several men grabbed Horton 
 and dragged him, red and protesting, to a place be- 
 side the sheriff-elect. 
 
 There was a loud clamor for another speech. 
 
 "Lookee here, boys," stammered the embarrassed 
 sheriff, "I ain't no speech-maker, an' I'm goin' ter 
 be just a plain citizen from now on. I've appointed 
 Bob ter do my speakin' fer me, an' 'Ponsy' here, 
 has agreed ter do my shootin' fer me, so ye '11 ex- 
 cuse me if I take a back seat." 
 
 The crowd laughed and applauded and he turned 
 to his friend and heartily grasped him by the hand.
 
 542 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 ' ' Bob, old man, I 'm glad ye licked me. I congratu- 
 late ye an' wish ye success." 
 
 "Thank you, Tom," returned Parker, deeply 
 moved. "With your help I hope to win success. ' ' 
 
 The assembled citizens went fairly wild over this 
 demonstration of mutual regard by their two popu- 
 lar idols and made such a racket that Mrs. McGinnis, 
 who until then had been steadfastly attending to her 
 household duties during the noisy celebration, could 
 no longer stand the uproar and rushed to the door, 
 broom in hand. 
 
 She glared angrily at the crowd for a moment and 
 then ferociously brandished her broom at everybody 
 and everything in general. 
 
 "Pfwat are ye noisy divils up ter now, hey. Yez 
 do be actin' loike a lot o' crazy lunatics ! Clear out 
 o' this!" and she advanced to the top of the steps 
 with eyes flashing and her broom uplifted in a 
 manner that piomised a headache to anybody who 
 received its impact. 
 
 "Clear out o> this, I say, ye shpalpeens!" reiter- 
 ated the angry Amazon, "or Oi'll be afther wallop- 
 in' the hull gang o' yez !" 
 
 The crowd quieted down and everybody wore an 
 expectant grin, waiting to see who would be the 
 first unlucky victim of the militant Irish woman's 
 onslaught. 
 
 Horton interposed as peace-maker ex-officio and 
 approached the irate woman with his most ingrati- 
 ating smile and smoothest manner. 
 
 Dixie, who was watching the performance with 
 keen enjoyment, gleefully poked his nearest compan- 
 ion in the ribs. 
 
 "Watch Tom get his," he whispered. 
 
 Tom got "his" and quickly. Mrs. McGinnis low- 
 ered her broom and witheringly surveyed him.
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 543 
 
 "An' you too, Tom Horton, bad cess ter yez! 
 Ye 're the worst o' the lot an' may the divil fly 
 away wid yez ! ' ' 
 
 McGinnis laughed behind his hands. Sam opened 
 his immense mouth and was about to join in his 
 boss's merriment, but caught his mistress's eye 
 and thinking better of it, discreetly shut up like a 
 clam and stood rolling his eyes until they appeared 
 to be all whites. 
 
 "But you see, Mrs. McGinnis," soothed Horton, 
 "we was cheerin' Bob Parker; he's been elected 
 Sheriff." 
 
 "An' he bate yez! He bate yez!" she crowed. 
 ' ' Glory be to God ! Is it thrue f ' ' 
 
 Horton chuckled good-naturedly at the obvious 
 slam at his official prestige and popularity. 
 
 "Yes, ma'am," he replied, meekly, "it's sure some 
 true." 
 
 The good woman triumphantly waved her broom 
 in the air, narrowly missing Sam's flat nose. 
 
 "Hooray! Hooray for Misther Parker! God 
 bless him ! ' ' she shouted. 
 
 The crowd responded ear-splittingly and wound up 
 with three cheers and a tiger for the lady herself, 
 much to her embarrassment. 
 
 "Ah! g'long wid yer blarney, now, ye palaverin' 
 divils ! ' ' she expostulated, retreating in blushing con- 
 fusion into the hotel. 
 
 McGinnis and Sam followed her, wisely concluding 
 that there soon would be a rush of business to attend 
 to, while Smithers and Ellen returned to their love- 
 making at the end of the veranda. 
 
 The crowd dispersed, a number entering the bar- 
 room of the hotel in search of refreshment. A group 
 of a dozen or so, of whom Dixie was one, remained 
 in front of the postoffice talking over the election.
 
 544 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The sheriff and his successful rival sat down for 
 a chat on the hotel steps. 
 
 "Say, Bob," grinned Horton, flirting his thumb 
 in the direction of the Englishman and his sweet- 
 heart, "how's things comin' on with England and 
 the home-rule party?" 
 
 "Beautifully, Tom Mrs. McGinnis snuggled up 
 to the mother lode like a sick kitten to a hot brick, 
 and when she heard how Smithers sniped Ather- 
 ton " 
 
 "Just nothin' to it, eh, Bob?" 
 
 "I should say not. Why, the next time McGinnis 
 got gay, she told him she wished he'd brace up and 
 be a man 'loike Mr. Smithers.' " 
 
 "So, the course o' true love's a runnin' smooth 
 now. When does the kid start east to the 'varnish- 
 in' ' school?" 
 
 "Humph!" chuckled Parker; "ma has changed 
 her mind about that. Ellen is not going. ' ' 
 
 "Ah! I see, afraid she'll lose him, eh?" chuckled 
 the sheriff, comprehendingly. 
 
 "Yes," assented the other, adding dryly ,"or the 
 mother lode. ' ' 
 
 The two men were quietly laughing at the amusing 
 situation afforded by the Englishman's love affair, 
 when Miss Weatherson, evidently in a state of con- 
 siderable agitation, appeared in the square and hur- 
 ried towards them. 
 
 They simultaneously saw the young woman and, 
 springing to their feet, hastened to meet her. 
 
 "Oh, Robert! Mr. Horton!" she gasped, breath- 
 lessly, "I'm so glad I've found you! Something 
 dreadful has happened ! ' ' 
 
 "What is the trouble? What's up?" they chor- 
 used. 
 
 "There's a detective from the east at the Prospect
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 545 
 
 House, and he's inquiring after you, Mr. Parker!" 
 she replied, panic-stricken. 
 
 His face paled and he swayed a little. 
 
 "A detective looking for me, Miss Weatherson! 
 How do you know ? ' ' 
 
 Her eyes suffused with tears, and she was the 
 picture of despair. 
 
 "He came in on the afternoon stage and got to 
 drinking with Jeff Peters. He became talkative and 
 told Jeff that he was an officer of the law from New 
 York and had a warrant for your arrest. Jeff's lit- 
 tle boy heard it, and meeting me a few moments 
 later, innocently told me about it!" 
 
 Parker took a deep breath and calmly faced Hor- 
 ton. 
 
 "Well, Tom," he said, steadily; "it has come at 
 last." 
 
 Horton violently clenched his fists and swore great 
 oaths under his breath. He was not pleasant to 
 look at just then, and if a New York detective or 
 two had confronted him at that particular moment, 
 something serious quite likely would have happened. 
 
 * * So, Atherton has beaten us to it !" he ejaculated, 
 savagely. ' * The next fool tenderfoot I teach ter shoot, 
 '11 learn exactly where the bull's-eye is, ye can bet 
 on that! But it's my own fault; instead o' givin' 
 that cussed sneak the twenty-four hour limit ter 
 git out o' town, I'd oughter taken a crack at him 
 myself." 
 
 Miss Weatherson clasped her hands in great dis- 
 tress, and with tears rolling down her cheeks looked 
 appealingly at the two friends. 
 
 "Oh! What can we do?" she implored. "Mr. 
 Gordon will succeed I'm sure he will! He must 
 succeed! Can't that detective be induced to leave 
 Mr. Parker alone until Gordon returns?"
 
 546 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 " That's dead easy, Miss Weatherson," replied 
 Horton, with a fierce scowl and significantly touching 
 his pistol butt. "I think he can be induced ter let 
 him alone at least that long an' p'raps longer. 
 Don't worry, little woman, this aggregation o' talent 
 is goin' ter stand pat. Whether that newspaper fel- 
 ler makes good or not, they'll have one sweet time 
 gettin' Bob Parker. It'll take the whole Noo York 
 police force an 'a company o' regulars an' they'll 
 have to whip the whole town o' Deadwood, at that. 
 Get our new sheriff? Sufferin cats! I should 
 say not ! ' ' 
 
 His eye fell upon Dixie, who was talking with a 
 group of men a little distance away, and he called to 
 him. 
 
 "I say, Dixie!" 
 
 " What's doin', Tom," responded the miner, join- 
 ing the party and, noting their agitation, curiously 
 eyeing its members. 
 
 " There's a feller down at the Prospect House 
 came in this afternoon that say 's he 's a detective 
 say's he's got a warrant fer Bob Parker for gettin' 
 a feller down in Noo York an' breakin' jail!" 
 
 Dixie snorted derisively. 
 
 ' ' So Bob got a feller, did he ? " he commented, sar- 
 castically. " How awful! He'd oughter be slapped 
 on the wrist!" 
 
 "Bob says it's a lie," Horton went on. "Is that 
 detective goin' ter get him?" 
 
 Dixie mounted the whiskey barrel and addressed 
 the gathering of men in the square, which now was 
 rapidly being augmented by others from the hotel 
 who had been attracted by the commotion. 
 
 "Friends an' feller, citizens," orated Dixie, 
 "there's a 'spicious character come inter town on the
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 547 
 
 stage this afternoon that says he's a detective from 
 Noo York." 
 
 1 'What's his lay?" demanded one of the crowd. 
 
 1 'He says he's got a warrant fer Bob Parker!" 
 
 ''The h 1 he has!" blustered another, indig- 
 nantly. "What fer?" 
 
 Dixie 's lip curled with contempt as he sarcastical- 
 ly answered : 
 
 "He's claimin' that Bob got some tenderfoot or 
 other down in Noo York, an' broke jail." 
 
 The townspeople howled in derision. 
 
 "He's slanderin' one of our most re-spected and 
 be-loved citizens!" continued Dixie, "an' I asks you 
 fellers as between man an' man, are we a-goin' ter 
 stand fer it?" 
 
 "Where is he?" demanded several angry voices. 
 "Where is the durned skunk?" 
 
 "Down ter the Prospect House," replied Dixie. 
 
 A number of the men started down the street to- 
 wards the hostelry mentioned, with curses and im- 
 precations that promised direful happenings to the 
 luckless object of their wrath if they ever succeeded 
 in rounding him up. 
 
 "Hold on, boys!" commanded Dixie. 
 
 The angry miners paused and gave attention. 
 
 "Let's do the thing reg'lar," Dixie went on. "I 
 move that we put the d d lunatic in the calaboose 
 over night, an' give him a friendly invite ter beat 
 it outer town in the mornin'?" 
 
 "Sure that shpalpeen's dangerous ter the com- 
 munity!" interjected McGinnis from the doorway, 
 where he had been an interested listener to the 
 miner's harangue. 
 
 "Ye've heard the motion, gents," said Dixie. "All 
 you fellers that b'lieves in keepin' bad elements 
 outer this town say 'Aye!' "
 
 548 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 Amid a volley of explosive "Ayes," the chairman 
 pro tern descended from his improvised rostrum and, 
 without waiting to call for the "Nays" or to declare 
 the motion carried, led the party of belligerents on 
 their mission of regulation of the manners of the 
 impertinent and slanderous stranger. 
 
 "Go to it, boys!" Horton yelled after them. "I 
 appoint ye my deputy, Dixie. Mind ye, now, no 
 gun play ! Handle him legally. ' ' 
 
 "Sure, Tom," growled Dixie, with a malicious 
 chuckle, "an' then some!" 
 
 A glint of fire in the sheriff 's eyes betrayed his 
 deep satisfaction as he thought of the sort of handl- 
 ing the offender was likely to receive. 
 
 McGinnis and Sam returned to the bar-room, 
 chuckling with pleasure as they pictured to them- 
 selves what they were sure was going to happen to 
 the fellow who had had the temerity to traduce Bob 
 Parker. 
 
 Ellen and her adorer, Smithers, still were billing 
 and cooing at the end of the veranda, so deeply ab- 
 sorbed in each other that they were blissfully un- 
 conscious of what was occurring. 
 
 As Dixie and his volunteer posse disappeared, 
 Horton with grim satisfaction turned to Parker, who, 
 stunned by the suddenness with which his sky had 
 become overcast, had been apathetically observing 
 the militant actions of his friends. 
 
 "There," he snapped, "I reckon that'll hold yer 
 Noo York friend fer a while. What's goin' ter 
 happen ter him '11 be a plenty. It'll probably be my 
 last official or unofficial act as Sheriff, Bob, but I'm 
 goin ' ter go out in a blaze o ' glory an 'the blaze '11 
 be plenty hot enough fer that damned detective, ye 
 can jest bet yer last ounce on that!" 
 
 Parker shook himself together.
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 549 
 
 " What's the use, Tom?" he protested, earnestly. 
 "The game's not worth the candle. I'd better make 
 my get-away while I have the chance." 
 
 "Think so? Well, ye ain't got no chance. If ye 
 try ter get away ternight I'll stop ye, mighty quick, 
 f er I 'm still Sheriff o ' this town until ye 're installed 
 termorrow. If ye try it on after ye take the oath o ' 
 office, I'll have ye impeached, an' imprisoned, an' 
 impounded fer malfeezance in office. D'ye hear?" 
 
 * ' Tom, you are incorrigible, ' ' sighed Parker, smil- 
 ing affectionately. 
 
 "Reckon I must be, seein' as how the word means 
 somethin' tough," retorted the sheriff, "but you'll 
 stay in Deadwood just the same." 
 
 Miss Weatherspn had been anxiously listening to 
 what had been said, and mentally had cheered Dixie 
 and his band when they had started after their pros- 
 pective victim. As she gazed after the regulators 
 of Deadwood 's moral atmosphere there was a lam- 
 bent glow in the depths of her eyes which suggested 
 that there was in her bosom not a little of the spirit 
 bequeathed to her by certain of her militant ances- 
 tors, and that she too was not quite in sympathy 
 with the man from New York. 
 
 As the self-constituted posse disappeared, the 
 young woman gratefully turned to the sheriff. 
 
 "Mr. Horton," she exclaimed, fervently, "you're 
 the greatest man I ever knew! excepting one," she 
 added tenderly, surreptitiously glancing at Parker. 
 
 "Speakin' o' your father, o' course," rejoined 
 Horton, soberly, but with twinkling eyes. 
 
 The young woman was rosy with embarrassment. 
 
 "How can I how can we ever repay you," she 
 asked, in charming confusion. 
 
 "Better wait 'till the job's done," he laughed,
 
 550 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 adding slyly in a whisper in Ms friend Bob's ear; 
 ' ' Ye can name the first boy after his uncle Tom. ' ' 
 
 "Don't crowd the mourners, old man," was the 
 smilingly whispered reply. 
 
 "Hello!" exclaimed Parker, "Here's Dixie com- 
 ing back. Say, Tom, it looks to me as if that de- 
 tective had sobered up !" 
 
 "Holy smoke! Will ye look at that?" cried the 
 astonished sheriff, sizing up the approaching deputy- 
 sheriff, ex-officio, "What the deuce has happened to 
 him?" 
 
 Dixie, with his nose bleeding, one eye blackened 
 and his clothes torn and covered with dirt, slowly 
 limped through the crowd of wondering men who 
 still were standing about, and was greeted by the 
 sheriff, who was having his own troubles in smoth- 
 ering a laugh. 
 
 "Well, Dixie, did ye get him?" 
 
 For a returning conqueror, the chief regulator 
 presented a ludicrous picture as he wiped the sweat 
 and dirt from his face and cleared the blood from 
 his nose by several violent blasts into a huge red 
 bandana handkerchief. 
 
 "Sure!" he snorted, triumphantly, with another 
 noisy application of the handkerchief to his nose. 
 "We got the son-of-a-gun all right, an' he's on his 
 way ter jail now, but it took six of us ter do it. I 'm 
 mighty glad there was only one o' him. An' he 
 never even tried ter pull a gun! What d'ye think 
 o'that?" 
 
 "Member o' your foot-ball team, Bob, I'll bet a 
 hat!" muttered Horton, in a chaffing aside to his 
 friend. 
 
 "He'll cool down in jail all right," said the sher- 
 iff, consolingly, to Dixie. 
 
 "Yes," retorted the miner lugubriously, rubbing
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBEE 551 
 
 his tender nose, "but if he don't tear that shaky 
 old calaboose down an' vamoose the ranch by morn- 
 in', I'll miss my guess." 
 
 "All right, Dixie, we'll build another an' run 
 him down an' put him in it, jest ter christen the 
 new one. ' ' 
 
 "But you'll appint some other feller on the deputy 
 job, unless ye give me leave ter bend a gun on his 
 nut," grumbled Dixie. 
 
 "Very well, then, I'll send Smithers after him," 
 the sheriff satirically chuckled in an ostentatiously 
 loud tone. 
 
 Smithers heard his name mentioned and emerged 
 from the bliss in which he was wallowing. 
 
 "Beg pawdon, Mr. er, Tom, were you address- 
 in' me?" 
 
 "No, but I was speakin' o' you," replied Horton, 
 gravely. "I said I was thinkin' o' appointm* you 
 my deputy an' sendin' ye after a desperate charac- 
 ter that's hangin' 'round town." 
 
 "Thanks, awfully, old chap! I'll do me duty, 
 don'tcher know!" 
 
 After this martial declaration, the Englishman 
 resumed the less strenuous and more agreeable oc- 
 cupation of making dignified love to Ellen. 
 
 "Lookee here, Tom!" cried Dixie, earnestly, solic- 
 itously feeling of his swollen eye, "if that feller 
 '11 apologize fer slanderin' Bob Parker, don't let 
 him git away ! We '11 elect him mayor the next time ; 
 he could run this little old settlement, hands down, 
 an' make it look like a Sunday school! He " 
 His glance wandered up the cross-street and he 
 stopped short, his face expressing the most profound 
 astonishment and consternation. 
 
 "Well, I'll be d blowed!" he gasped, helpless- 
 ly, his jaw slackening and his whole attitude sug-
 
 552 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 gesting that of one who is thoroughly beaten and 
 completely discomfited. 
 
 Everybody looked in the direction of Dixie's 
 glance and saw a stranger coming toward the 
 square. 
 
 An instant later a stockily-built, determined-look- 
 ing man of middle-age strode across the intervening 
 space and aggressively elbowing his way through 
 the crowd approached Horton and Parker. 
 
 The stranger showed plain evidences of a recent 
 rough-and-tumble dispute. His clothing was torn 
 and soiled, his collar flapping loose at both ends and 
 his necktie shifted around under one ear. His derby 
 hat was dusty and badly dented and he was red and 
 perspiring as to face, but his wind was still good 
 and, aside from his disordered raiment, he had not 
 the slightest mark upon him to suggest that he had 
 been man-handled. 
 
 The onlookers stared at him with mingled curi- 
 osity and amazement. 
 
 He addressed himself to the sheriff. 
 
 "I'm looking for a man who calls himself Robert 
 Parker, ' ' he announced, brusquely. 
 
 Parker instinctively started to step forward, but 
 he was stopped by Horton, who interposed his arm, 
 pushed him back and stepped directly in front of him. 
 
 "The foot-ball man has sobered up, all right!" 
 whispered the sheriff, hoarsely, as he passed his 
 friend. 
 
 4 'Who are you, an' what d'ye want o' Parker?" 
 Horton sternly demanded, his brow lowering and 
 his face darkening ominously. 
 
 "My name's Williams. I'm an officer from Cen- 
 tral, New York City," the stranger abruptly re- 
 plied, opening his coat and displaying his badge.
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 553 
 
 I have a warrant for the arrest of one Eobert Par- 
 kyn, alias Robert Parker." 
 
 "Ye have, eh?" sneered Horton, "I reckon ye '11 
 have ter find him first. ' ' 
 
 "Sure that's what I'm here for," replied the 
 detective, not in the least abashed_. "I understand 
 he's here, somewhere. If he isn~'t here, I'll look 
 elsewhere, but I'm going to find him." 
 
 Just as the determined man concluded this state- 
 ment, Dixie's posse of regulators rushed into the 
 square and reported to the sheriff. 
 
 ' ' That feller got away, Tom ! ' ' exclaimed the lead- 
 er of the party. "We tried ter " 
 
 The speaker and his companions caught sight of 
 "Williams and were stricken dumb with amazement. 
 
 "Yes, I know all about it," said Horton, sneering 
 sarcastically. "We've got him I don't guess." 
 
 Reverting to the detective he queried, coolly : 
 
 "When ye find Parker, what are ye goin' ter do 
 with him?" 
 
 Miss Weatherson, visibly agitated, anxiously 
 leaned forward to hear the detective 's answer. 
 
 "I'm going to take him back to Sing Sing, to fin- 
 ish a twenty-year term for murder," was the calm 
 reply. 
 
 Horton 's hand dropped to his holster, where it 
 carelessly rested on the butt of his .44. The men 
 standing ar"ound, belligerently began to close in and, 
 following the sheriff's example, put their hands 
 to their weapons. 
 
 "Noo York warrants don't go here. S'pose we 
 don 't let ye take him, what then ? ' ' pursued Horton, 
 fondling his pistol butt. 
 
 Williams understood and paled a little, but un- 
 flinchingly faced the grim and menacing looks of the 
 rough-looking men who surrounded him.
 
 554 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 "I'll get him all right if I live," he answered, 
 slowly and without a tremor. "If I don't, there's 
 plenty more like me where I came from, and a few 
 dead men more or less don't count for much in the 
 records of the New York police department." 
 
 Horton stepped menacingly toward the detective 
 and the crowd murmured threateningly, pressing in 
 until the officer scarcely had elbow room. 
 
 He gave a couple of shoves with his massive shoul- 
 ders, followed by a vigorous push or two with his 
 strong hands and cleared a space around him. 
 
 Horton stopped short but made no move to draw 
 his weapon. The other hostiles, mutely astonished 
 at the stranger's temerity in thus bucking the line, 
 remained where he had pushed them. 
 
 The detective looked them over defiantly, individ- 
 ually and collectively, for a brief space and then 
 wrathfully exploded: 
 
 "You're a bunch of dead-game sports I don't 
 think! So this is your western idea of fairness, 
 eh?" he sneered. "One lone man a stranger is 
 only trying to do his duty, and a gang of you fellows 
 jump on him and try to lock him up! And now 
 you're ready to turn a battery of artillery loose on 
 him God! but you're a bunch of dunghills! Drop 
 your guns and I '11 lick any three of you ! ' ' 
 
 His grey eyes snapped angrily as he pulled off his 
 coat, with apparent willingness to make good or 
 die trying an act of bravery which was not entirely 
 lost on the angry men who surrounded him, as was 
 evidenced by sundry gleams of admiration in the 
 eyes of some of them. 
 
 Swayed by a sudden uncontrollable impulse, Par- 
 ker forced his way past the sheriff into the center 
 of the group, gently detaching the solicitously re- 
 straining hand that Miss Weatherson laid upon his
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 555 
 
 arm. As he passed Horton the young miner said 
 quietly in his friend's ear: 
 
 1 'He's right, Tom, and nobody knows it better 
 than you do. ' ' 
 
 He calmly faced the officer. 
 
 "Mr. Williams," he said, with superb coolness, 
 "/am Robert Parkyn." 
 
 The detective in a business-like way laid his hand 
 on Parker's shoulder. 
 
 "You are my prisoner, sir." 
 
 Horton made a move as if to interfere, and several 
 of the more excitable among the crowd drew their 
 guns, but Parker waved them aside with firm decis- 
 ion. 
 
 "None of that, boys!" he commanded, we're not 
 dunghills, and this man is a thoroughbred every 
 inch of him!" 
 
 " I 'm mighty sorry, sir, ' ' began Williams, ' * but ' ' 
 
 "I understand; it's your plain duty," gloomily in- 
 terrupted the prisoner. 
 
 ' ' Then I '11 not need these, sir, ' ' smiled the officer, 
 evidently greatly relieved, as he displayed a pair of 
 handcuffs. 
 
 "No, you'll not need those ornaments, but I will 
 surrender only on one condition. ' ' 
 
 "Condition!" bridled the detective, with an ob- 
 stinate glint in his eye and a quick return of his 
 brusquerie. "What condition? I'm not used to 
 making treaties with parties that I do business 
 with." 
 
 Just at this moment a dust-covered horseman rode 
 quietly into the square, dismounted and hitched his 
 jaded, foam-flecked mount in front of the express 
 office. Miss Weatherson from the hotel steps caught 
 a glimpse of the new-comer and almost screamed 
 with joy. It was Dick Gordon !
 
 556 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 The newspaper man caught the young woman's 
 eye, and with finger on lip cautioned her not to betray 
 him. He then quietly slipped up to the rear of the 
 gathering, every man of which was too preoccupied 
 with the exciting current events to notice his arrival. 
 
 "Then, Mr. Williams, I'll have to ask you to make 
 an exception in this case," Parker went on, cour- 
 teously, but insistently. "It is absolutely impera- 
 tive that I remain in Deadwood thirty days longer. ' ' 
 
 "Thirty days!" cried the officer; "not on your 
 life! I'll " 
 
 "The sheriff will be responsible for me," the 
 young man interposed. 
 
 "Where is the sheriff?" demanded Williams, ob- 
 durately, glaring defiance at the men who surrounded 
 him. 
 
 "I'm the sheriff," responded Parker, quietly. 
 
 "What! You? You're the sheriff?" gasped the 
 astonished officer. 
 
 ' ' Yes or at least, I will be, after tomorrow. ' ' 
 
 "You're up against it, Mister Noo York sleuth!" 
 exclaimed Horton, with a satisfied smirk. 
 
 Gordon elbowed his way to the front and impu- 
 dently grinned in the detective 's face. 
 
 "You sure are up against it, Williams," chuckled 
 the reporter, gleefully. 
 
 "Dick Gordon!" cried the detective, in amazed 
 recognition. 
 
 "Yes, Dick Gordon," echoed the young fellow, 
 "and butting into police business, as usual. Sorry 
 to have to interfere with your lay, Williams, old boy, 
 but you'll have to drop your quarry." 
 
 Miss Weatherson came down the steps and press- 
 ing to her lover's side anxiously awaited further de- 
 velopments. She was followed by Smithers and 
 Ellen, who finally had awakened to a consciousness
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 557 
 
 of the stirring events that were occurring and 
 emerged from their Eden. 
 
 Gordon, with happiness radiating from every 
 youthful feature, grasped the overjoyed Parker by 
 the hand and pumped it like mad. 
 
 "You needn't set a time limit, Mr. Parkyn! Stay 
 right on the job!" 
 
 "You have good news?" tremuously interjected 
 Miss Weather son. 
 
 "Yes, the best of news." 
 
 Parker grasped the correspondent by one shoulder 
 and Horton by the other, almost breaking him in 
 two in their anxiety. 
 
 "Is everything all right, Gordon?" they asked in 
 chorus. 
 
 ' ' Sure and I 'm here with the goods, ' ' he rattled, 
 gayly. "I found Pete Johnson and Butch Harris. 
 Butch is dying of consumption in Charity Hospital 
 on the Island. Stubby had been 'pulled' out of the 
 pen about a month before and was back in New 
 York. Boss Hennessy had double-crossed him in 
 some job or other and the Bowery boy was sore as 
 a boil. When I told him that Butch was dying, he 
 came across and told me everything he knew, and 
 then went with me to see Butch. Stubby induced 
 the dying thug to confess and he owned up to killing 
 the Italian during that fight with a shot intended 
 for Parkyn. Butch stated that his own gun was a .32 
 and that Bull Hennessy had jobbed the doctor who 
 cut the ball out of the dead man. The Boss having 
 got possession of the .32 ball, substituted for it the 
 .38 that the doctor showed at the trial. Stubby and 
 I looked up the county physician of H . . . Coun- 
 ty, and squeezed him like a lemon, getting a written 
 statement of how Hennessy bilked him into giving 
 up the ball and handed him the .38 just before he
 
 558 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 went on the stand to testify. The poor devil of a 
 doctor said that he was half full of bug-juice and 
 so frightened during the trial that he couldn't have 
 exposed the fraud if he had tried." 
 
 "What about Hennessy?" Parker broke in, with 
 eager and hostile interest. 
 
 "I faced him with the evidence, but he was game 
 and told me to go to hell. I didn't want to do that," 
 chuckled Gordon, "so I wrote up a story for the 
 Herald and drove the Boss out of town which, in 
 his case, means off the map. 
 
 "Incidentally," he went on, laughing happily, "the 
 old man forgave me, thanked me for the scoop and 
 sent me back to Deadwood with his blessing and his 
 compliments to the future bride and groom." 
 
 The reporter gallantly bowed low to Miss Weath- 
 erson. 
 
 The young woman blushed most becomingly and 
 her lover gave her a tender smile of understanding. 
 
 "But what about that blamed skunk, Atherton?" 
 demanded Horton, vindictively. 
 
 Gordon laughed explosively at the amusing rem- 
 iniscence. 
 
 ' ' Oh, I sicked his wife onto him and that put him 
 out of the running." 
 
 "What a damnable mess was made out of my 
 case!" exclaimed Parker, resentfully. 
 
 "Yes, a hell's brew, for sure !" assented the corres- 
 pondent. "That lawyer of yours was a blithering ass 
 and the enemy was cunning. But you ought to have 
 seen that rural State's Attorney's expression when 
 I told him the story and asked to see Parkyn's re- 
 volver. Being a good one, he, of course, had kept it. 
 I produced Butch Harris ' gun, which, even when the 
 poor devil knew he had not long to live, the thug 
 had preserved with the proverbial affection of the
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 559 
 
 professional gun-man for the weapon that had stood 
 his friend in need. When I laid the two guns side 
 by side on the lawyer's desk and read Butch 's con- 
 fession to him to which, by the way, the dying man 
 had made affidavit that public prosecutor looked 
 sick, probably because he regretted that his innocent 
 victim wouldn't have to serve out the rest of that 
 twenty years in the pen. ' ' 
 
 ''Well, the rest was easy," said Gordon, in con- 
 clusion. "I laid the facts before the governor 
 and here 's his answer. No. 515 has lost his number, 
 Mr. Parkyn." 
 
 He took an official-looking document from his 
 pocket and handed it to Parkyn. 
 
 The young miner opened the paper and glanced at 
 it eagerly. 
 
 "A pardon! Thank God!" he cried, with a surge 
 of emotion that swept him almost completely off his 
 feet. 
 
 Miss Weatherson threw herself into his waiting 
 arms. He clasped his loved one close to his breast 
 and murmured, softly : 
 
 "You've lest your jail-bird, dear, and, if it is not 
 too late" 
 
 She raised her face to his, and with a countenance 
 radiant with joy and tears of happiness flooding her 
 eyes, she smiled up at him tenderly as she whispered : 
 
 "Sweetheart, it's not too late and," she added, 
 archly, "I still have my 'Trusty'." 
 
 The crowd went wild and whooped like a lot of 
 crazy Indians. Inspired by the emotionally sur- 
 charged atmosphere, even Smithers woke up, grasp- 
 ing Ellen around the waist and holding her as if he 
 were afraid someone might despoil him of his prize. 
 
 "My word!" he exclaimed, kissing her with a re-
 
 560 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 sounding smack, "most extraor'nary, really! Mar- 
 vellously clevah chap, that Gordon very ! ' ' 
 
 Gordon took a paper from his pocket. 
 
 "Here's something for you, Mr. Horton," he 
 shouted, above the din made by the crowd. 
 
 "What is it, a newspaper?" asked the sheriff, 
 surveying it curiously. 
 
 "Yes, it's my pardon, I hope," smiled the cor- 
 respondent. "It's the 'only genuine expurgated edi- 
 tion of the New York Herald.' ' 
 
 Horton chuckled reminiscently and took the paper. 
 As he unfolded it and noted the pictures and glaring 
 headlines of the leading article, Gordon said, slyly: 
 
 "I hope you'll like the picture of your friend, 
 Parkyn, alias Parker, better than the one you con- 
 fiscated. Personally, I rather like Butch Harris' 
 and Boss Hennessy's mugs, too. They add a lot to 
 the story. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Parkyn," he called to the happy 
 young miner, "your old pal, Stubby, sent you his 
 best regards and said he was glad that he changed 
 his mind about helping you to clear yourself. He 
 said, also, that if ever you came to New York you 
 must be sure to look him up. Williams and I will 
 find him for you, we're the greatest man-finders 
 ever, ' ' and he grinned derisively at the detective. 
 
 "Rub it in, Dick, I can stand it. Things look good 
 to me," the detective laughed back, appreciatively. 
 
 The crowd caught this remark and gave the offi- 
 cer a hearty round of applause. 
 
 Mrs. McGinnis came to the door, broom in hand, 
 and surveyed the noisy scene. She took in the two 
 couples of lovers, endeavored to speak, and ignomin- 
 iously failing to find words to express her emotions, 
 with a gesture of despair rushed wildly back into the
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 561 
 
 hotel, feebly waving her broom and sputtering like 
 a bunch of squibs. 
 
 McGinnis and Sam from the veranda had been 
 absorbedly interested in the happenings in front 
 of the hotel. The Irishman whispered to the negro, 
 who, comically showing his teeth and nodding his 
 comprehension, poked his kinky black head between 
 the bystanders and rolled his eyes at the detective. 
 
 "Marse Williams," he said, with exaggerated po- 
 liteness, "Marse McGinnis 'lows dat you all better 
 take supper wid us." 
 
 The crowd howled again and Horton said blandly. 
 
 "An' we'd jest be tickled plumb ter death ter have 
 ye help us initiate the new sheriff tomorrow, eh, 
 boys?" 
 
 "You betcha!" they shouted, hospitably. 
 
 "And we'd all be delighted to have you remain in 
 Deadwood for the wedding," chuckled Gordon. 
 
 1 1 Is that a ' condition ! ' " laughed the officer. 
 
 "It is," cried Parkyn joyously. 
 
 "Then it's a bet!" exclaimed Williams. 
 
 On a New York Central Pullman car, en route for 
 the great metropolis, sat Robert Parkyn and his 
 bride. Albany long since had been left behind and 
 the train was following the Hudson on its way to the 
 sea. As they gazed through the window at the en- 
 chanting river and mountain scenery that flew swift- 
 ly by, the couple sought each other's hands and 
 sighed contentedly. 
 
 "Sweetheart," he murmured, "the dear old Hud- 
 son looks mighty good to me, but never again will 
 it seem so wonderful and so alluring as it did during 
 those awful days when I was condemned to gaze at 
 that majestic river through a network of steel. Jor- 
 dan and the Promised Land never seemed so fair to
 
 562 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 the chosen people of the Lord as did that beautiful 
 stream in those dark days. And how kind those 
 waters were on that fateful day last spring when the 
 river received me into its bosom and concealed me 
 from the guards who sought my death!" 
 
 She looked up at him understandingly and for a 
 long time they sat in silence. 
 
 "Josephine, dear, we are coming to the place 
 where my hopes were buried and where they were 
 re-born, thanks to you, my own. ' ' 
 
 He felt her shudder as she recalled the fateful 
 events of that April day only a few short months 
 before, and reassuringly he passed his arm about her 
 slender waist and drew her closer to him. 
 
 "We will be past in a moment, dear," he said 
 gently, "and then let us forget it forever. I promise 
 you that we never will travel on this part of the 
 Central again. It is too severe an ordeal for both of 
 us." 
 
 As the train whirled rapidly by Sing Sing, she 
 suddenly looked questioningly into his face. 
 
 "Do you know what day this is, Robert?" 
 
 "Why it's Thursday, the By Jove ! it's Thanks- 
 giving, isn't it?" 
 
 "Yes, dear, and it needs no official proclamation 
 to make it so for us. I am not so sure that I ought 
 to regard with hatred those awful buildings over 
 there, after all. They have been very useful to me ; 
 they have brought me happiness. They brought me 
 to you, Robert, and today they make me appreciate 
 Thanksgiving as I never before appreciated it." 
 
 "Possibly you are more just and more logical 
 than I, my love," he rejoined. "Will Carleton may 
 have been right when he wrote : 
 
 " 'But one thing's settled with me 
 to appreciate Heaven well,
 
 AN ELECTION AND A LOST NUMBER 563 
 
 'Tis good for a man to have 
 some fifteen minutes of Hell.' 
 
 1 'I had six months of the worst hell that man ever 
 invented for the torture of his fellow man, and it 
 would stump a greater poet than Carleton to express 
 my appreciation of the heaven that has come to me. 
 
 "It is strange that the drift of one's life should 
 be so guided and impelled by the currents of other 
 men's lives. Think, Josephine, of what we owe to 
 Bull Hennessy who typified the political corruption 
 that sways the great city towards which we now are 
 hurrying to Stubby, that outcast who was more 
 sinned against than sinning, and to that grand old 
 man, Major Donaldson. 
 
 "I wonder where the Major is now," he mused. 
 
 "He returned to his old home in Ithaca," she said, 
 "where he is trying to correct with his pen the 
 same evils that he so gallantly fought back yonder. 
 You knew that he lost his position soon after ?" 
 
 ' ' Yes, ' ' he interrupted, quietly, * * I learned it from 
 the papers before I left New York, and I often have 
 wondered if he ever has been sorry that he befriend- 
 ed me. I wish I might see the dear old man again 
 and tell him how things have " 
 
 She laid her hand upon his, in gentle interruption. 
 
 "The Major never has been sorry, dearest. He has 
 said so and he already knows. I wrote him and 
 told him the rest of your story." 
 
 "He is a wonderful man, Josephine, and the world 
 will appreciate his work, some day when it loses 
 its smoked glasses and its eyes get used to the light." 
 
 He was strangely quiet for a long while, gazing 
 out of the window. Then he whispered : 
 
 "How blessings and curses commingle in this 
 queer old world of ours. This little town through 
 which we now are passing, was the scene of that
 
 564 TRUSTY FIVE-FIFTEEN 
 
 awful fight among the laborers, in which I was 
 wounded and which was responsible for what prom- 
 ised to be the complete wreckage of my life. And 
 yet it was the beginning of the road that led straight 
 to you, my heart 's desire. ' ' 
 
 She nestled beside him so closely that the con- 
 ductor, who just then was passing, looked curiously 
 at them, grinned in cordial sympathy and winked 
 knowingly at a pleasant-faced, white-haired old cou- 
 ple sitting across the aisle, who glanced at the pair 
 and smiled back at the official. 
 
 " Josephine, dear," he said, thoughtfully, "I have 
 been wondering if our honeymoon isn't likely to 
 change your views of the west and its people. Pos- 
 sibly you may want to remain permanently in the 
 east." 
 
 "Never!" she replied, with convincing emphasis. 
 "We may outgrow Deadwood, for no one knows what 
 its future will be, but I want the free air, the grand 
 old hills and the noble warm-hearted men and women 
 of the west people who, as that dear old Tom 
 Horton would say, 'will stand without hitchin' an' 
 show the right color under the acid. ' ' ' 
 
 "Well, little girl," he said, patting her hand ap- 
 provingly, "you have exactly expressed my own sen- 
 timents. I will at once close with those New York 
 parties with whom I have been corresponding re- 
 garding the mine. That will settle the money ques- 
 tion for us for all time, I hope. When our honey- 
 moon is over we will return to the west, where I will 
 serve those rough, honest people conscientiously 
 if not intelligently. They elected me Sheriff in good 
 faith, and I'll not abuse their confidence." 
 
 "Yes, dear," she murmured, smiling dreamily, 
 ' ' we will go back home ! ' ' 
 
 THE END
 
 A 000029688 9