When 
 
 Lock 
 
 Stable 
 
 Homer 
 Croy
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES 
 
 GIFT OF 
 
 JAMES J. MC BRIDE
 
 A wild four-footed creature dropped spitting into his lap
 
 WHEN TO 
 LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 By 
 HOMER CROY 
 
 With Illustratimi bj 
 
 MONTE CREWS 
 
 INDIANAPOLIS 
 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 PUBLISHERS
 
 COPYRIGHT 1914 
 THE BOBBS-MERRILL COMPANY 
 
 PRESS OF 
 
 BRAUNWORTH <i CO. 
 
 BOOKBINDERS AND PRINTERS 
 
 BROOKLYN, N. Y.
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 1 
 
 II A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 29 
 
 III QUITE A CATCH 40 
 
 IV SALVATION NIGHT 54 
 
 V NOT EVEN A NOTE 77 
 
 VI THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 82 
 
 VII THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 98 
 
 VIII ALL FLESH Is GRASS 115 
 
 IX SHORTCAKE 135 
 
 X THE WORLD BECKONS 156 
 
 XI HOME SWEET HOME 179 
 
 XII AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 195 
 
 XIII GETTING A JOB 214 
 
 XIV THE THIRD DEGREE 246 
 
 XV A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 259 
 
 XVI BRASSY S IDEA 291 
 
 XVII OUR FAIR CITY 310 
 
 XVIII JUST LIKE HIM 329 
 
 712328
 
 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE
 
 WHEN TO 
 LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 
 
 CLEM POINTER walked to the rear of 
 the fire department building, reached 
 behind the lid of a tomato can nailed to the 
 side of the shed, poked out the key and danced 
 it proudly in his hand. The fire department 
 was directly in the rear of the White Front 
 Hardware Store, canned goods a specialty, 
 with a full line of stationery and also a few 
 choice sugar-cured hams for sale. 
 
 Clem inserted the key, and the lock sprang 
 open in his hand like something alive. He 
 laid off his coat and looked around admir 
 ingly, then taking a piece of flannel he wiped 
 a splotch off the hand-pump made by the rain 
 i
 
 2 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 where it had leaked through the roof. He 
 hummed at his work, trailing off unexpectedly 
 now and then into an aimless but happy 
 whistle, tightening a perfectly secure bolt, or 
 polishing with his palm the shining brass top 
 of the pump. The sun, slipping down behind 
 the White Front, cut in over his hair, just be 
 ginning to turn gray, threw into relief his 
 short square face and filled with light the 
 pleasant lines that ran into the corners of his 
 eyes. 
 
 A silhouette projected itself on the wall. 
 "Why, hello, Mr. Kiggins!" Clem Pointer 
 greeted the proprietor of the White Front. 
 "How s the rheum tism this evening?" 
 
 There was always something the matter 
 with Mr. Kiggins. He had lived in Curry- 
 ville for twenty years and no one could re 
 member when he wasn t sick or growing 
 worse. Mr. Kiggins also had a great com 
 mand of words and an ability for describing 
 his symptoms that was amazing. You could 
 not talk to him five minutes without believing 
 that the poor man would never live through
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 3 
 
 the night, but somehow he always managed 
 to get down to the White Front on time and 
 thriftily, year after year, enlarge his stock of 
 canned goods and his full line of stationery. 
 
 "I m the last person in the world to talk 
 about my complaints," he began, "but I come 
 mighty near passing over Jordan last night. 
 It was the rheum tism coming back in that 
 shoulder I wrenched eleven years ago this sum 
 mer. It come creepin on me steady-like, just 
 as if it was weather rheumatics, then it got to 
 stabbing me through the shoulder and side 
 like as if you took a rough rat-tail file and 
 jabbed it back and forth. Every time a stab 
 come I would jump till the whole bed was 
 shaking so I could hardly stick on it. Finally 
 I had to get hold of the headboard or I be 
 lieve to Jerusalem it would a pitched me 
 clean off on the floor. With one hand steady- 
 in the head of the bed I got up and begun 
 walking up and down the room singin When 
 We Meet at the River to get my mind off my 
 shoulder when sunk! Seven thousand rat-tail 
 files began jabbing me and pulling the flesh
 
 4 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 out in little strings. I give just one yell. 
 That was all that was needed. I ain t much 
 of a yeller as a general rule but when I really 
 got something to yell about I can do a pretty 
 good job of it. I never had more spirit for 
 yelling than I had that night and I put it all 
 into one blast. My folks come tumblin out as 
 if there was something after them Gerillda 
 carryin a lamp but by that time I was cool 
 and collected and says, Go back to bed it s 
 all over. I come pretty near goin* that time 
 but my life has been spared and we ll all go to 
 church to-morrow morning. 
 
 "That won t happen again, though, for I 
 got something that is curin me up good and 
 fast. You know how near I have been to the 
 river in the last twenty years, but I ain t 
 afraid of it any more. It s Doctor Fordyce !" 
 
 "That old fake down at the New Palace 
 Hotel!" 
 
 "Doctor Fordyce ain t a fake," returned 
 Mr. Kiggins quickly, weaving nervous fingers 
 through his ragged beard. "He s from Kan 
 sas City and s just puttin up here because he
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 5 
 
 likes the people. We ought to be mighty 
 glad such a famous specialist would consent 
 to come to this town. He showed me what 
 the newspapers said and thej was all his 
 friends. 
 
 "I went in just to see what he would say, as 
 I like to ketch em up, and he give just one 
 look at me and says before I d set down: 
 You re sufferin from contusion of the pneu- 
 mogastric nerve. You re a sick man. No 
 other doctor d ever told me tha " 
 
 "The last pill pounder said it was arthritis 
 deformans," broke in Clem, "and you paid him 
 ten dollars for two bottles of pills and inside 
 of a week you had a relapse." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins knotted his beard over one 
 finger nervously. "But he couldn t tell what 
 was the matter with me just by lookin at me 
 the way Doctor Fordyce did. People are driving 
 in in wagons for miles and miles to see him. 
 His office is full of crutches of people that 
 have been cured in other cities, and he says 
 he wishes he didn t have to charge anything 
 for the medicine and that he believes his mis-
 
 6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 sion in this world is to relieve pain and suffer 
 ing. He says the demand for Doctor For- 
 dyce s Herb Specific is world wide and growin 
 every day. I seen with my own eyes a letter 
 from Germany ordering twelve dozen bottles." 
 
 "Was it written in German?" 
 
 "Yes, but he pointed out where it said 12 
 doz. and showed me the postmark. He says 
 he likes Curryville so well that he would like 
 to build a fine house and live here, and maybe 
 if he finds the right location he will build a 
 factory for manufacturing Doctor Fordyce s 
 Herb Specific that would give employment to 
 hundreds of people. He says he would like 
 the Bellows Bottom to build a factory on 
 if he can get enough land. Are you willing 
 to sell your lots, Clem ?" 
 
 Clem scratched a rough spot on the brass 
 nozzle with a thick thumb nail. "I been holdin 
 them lots for some little time for a raise, on 
 account of their location, but nothing ever 
 seems to come of it. Still, I don t like that 
 man. He s got a shifty eye and a shifty eye 
 hain t good in horse or human and I heard
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 7 
 
 him make a remark about one of our girls the 
 other day, as she was passing along the street, 
 that I didn t like. My policy is, get acquainted ; 
 you can t tell how new sorghum s goin to taste 
 till it s settled." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins turned to the door. "Well, 
 Clem, I must be goin . If you ever need any 
 fixings for the fire house don t forget the 
 White Front, big values and low prices." 
 
 Clem was dreaming of castles far over the 
 horizon of things, a million miles from Curry- 
 ville; dreams that Mr. Kiggins, looking into 
 Clem s plain face, would never have guessed 
 and would never have understood. There was 
 no one in all Curryville to whom he could tell 
 his dreams, no one who wouldn t laugh or ad 
 vise him to take Doctor Fordyce s Herb Spe 
 cific. When you have no one you can share 
 your dreams with the bitterness of the world 
 bites to the heart. 
 
 Another silhouette blackened the square of 
 light on the floor : the shadow showed the 
 figure of a boy; only the shadow could never
 
 8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 show the turned-up nose, the thousand freckles 
 and the hair that forked like a current at the 
 ears, a wide tributary flowing in front, and 
 pale clay-colored eddies swirling behind. 
 
 "Why, hello, Rencie. Ain t she some 
 wagon now? I ve tightened up the pumps so 
 I think they ll throw better. Takes an eternal 
 lot of watching to keep em up to the scratch." 
 
 "You know what Doctor Fordyce wanted 
 me to do?" Rencie bluntly broke in with a fine 
 disregard for the subject. "Wanted me to 
 play hypnotized and let him do fancy stunts. 
 When he begun telling me I had remarkable 
 eyes and a fine mind I smelled a rat. It makes 
 me mad for anybody to put their hand on my 
 shoulder and call me sonny. They always 
 got something to sell. He don t know I m 
 going to be a detective." 
 
 Clem nodded slowly and thoughtfully, but 
 whether it was in confirmation of Rencie s 
 ideas about Doctor Fordyce or approval over 
 the last sentence it was hard to tell. "So you re 
 going to be a detective," said Clem at last. 
 
 "Yes, I ve decided sure. I ve got a lot of
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 9 
 
 books I m practising up now and studying dur 
 ing spare hours. Every time I see a detective s 
 name in the paper I cut it out and save it, and 
 I have the pictures of lots of crooks. My 
 favorite s Kansas Jimmy. I read in a book 
 about how a detective traced a man to a house 
 and found where he had torn a letter all to 
 pieces and throwed it in the fireplace, so he 
 pieced it together and caught the robber slick 
 as a whistle. Pa threw one away the other 
 day. When I got it pieced together had to 
 wet the kitchen table to make the pieces stick 
 it was about some company wanting to give a 
 handsome clock with a dollar s worth of soap. 
 Good practise, though ; you can never tell when 
 a fellow s going to need it." 
 
 That s right," agreed Clem. "Our best 
 detectives begun early. I guess they get good 
 pay, too." 
 
 "As much as the president, I guess. Do you 
 know how detectives shoot, Mr. Pointer?" 
 
 Clem plowed a stubby finger into his straw 
 hair in reflection. 
 
 "Can t say s I do, Rencie."
 
 io WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Coming down!" 
 
 Clem s eyes opened in a wonderment that 
 Rencie thoroughly enjoyed, and to a request 
 for elucidation Rencie took plenty of time, for 
 that was a secret of the craft that very few 
 knew. 
 
 "Shoot that knot-hole !" 
 
 Clem brought down his forefinger at the 
 gap in the wall and fired a couple of shots 
 with his crooked thumb. 
 
 "There, you brought it down from above 
 the firing-line. Quick as you got it on a direct 
 line you fired. If you bring it up from under 
 neath you don t get such a good bead on it. 
 All the best detectives shoot that way. I read 
 it in a revolver advertisement. Do you know 
 how to take a pistol away from a robber 
 when he holds you up? Suppose he draws a 
 gun on you like that what d you do then ?" 
 
 Clem s face drew into wrinkled thought for 
 a moment, while Rencie stood keyed to a high 
 pitch of excitement. 
 
 "Why, I dunno ; I guess I d grab his hand," 
 Clem hesitated. "Or maybe I d trip him."
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE n 
 
 "No," said Rencie with a touch of scorn and 
 at the same time with the assurance of one 
 thoroughly versed in his subject. "Here, you 
 be the robber. Take this gun," picking up the 
 sawed end of a broom handle that chocked 
 the wheel of the fire cart, "and as I come in the 
 door flash it on me." 
 
 Rencie stepped out the door and Clem, 
 weapon in hand, waited inside for the luckless 
 passer-by. In a moment Rencie s freckled and 
 flushed face loomed in the doorway. 
 
 "Halt! hands up!" called Clem, carefully 
 bringing down the revolver from above the 
 firing-line. 
 
 Rencie advanced a quick step, threw up his 
 hand and knocked Clem s right arm high. The 
 revolver rattled to the floor. Catching the ex 
 tended arm, Rencie turned Clem on a pivot 
 and with a half-hitch of his arm over his own 
 shoulder had the villain crying for mercy. 
 
 "Oh, oh!" cried the highwayman, "I give 
 up. It s breaking my arm. This robber busi 
 ness hasn t any attractions for me." 
 
 Rencie released him and Clem leaned against
 
 12 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the wheel of the fire cart in more than pre 
 tended weakness. "A detective s got to know 
 everything that way," said the young sleuth 
 proudly. "I could break your arm like a pipe- 
 stem. Now supposing you were a robber and 
 came slipping up behind me." 
 
 "No, sir, I m going to stick to the fireman 
 business. Feels like you d pulled a string out 
 of the back part of my arm that I never knowed 
 was there before." 
 
 Rencie came over, sat down on the tool-box 
 and fell into deep thought, the heel of his hand 
 buried in his cheek. "I m goin to specialize in 
 bank robbers," said Rencie, slowly and thought 
 fully. "They re the hardest to catch, and more 
 money in it, too." 
 
 Clem nodded in sympathy. "My ambition 
 ain t along that line," said Clem at last, baring 
 more of his heart than he would to any other 
 person in all Curryville, for often a boy can 
 understand when an older person would only 
 laugh. He spoke hesitatingly, not as if choos 
 ing the right word, but as if such a thing 
 could not be hurried. "I have always wanted
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 13 
 
 to do something big, be somebody. Keep a 
 train from being wrecked; save somebody 
 from drowning something so they d say I 
 was a hero. All my life I ve wanted to but 
 I ve had to drag along in just the same old 
 rut. No chance here and I know there ain t, 
 but I get a lot of satisfaction day-dreaming 
 about it. I guess that s the reason I keep up 
 this fire department. If I d tell anybody else 
 in Curryville but you they d laugh. You can t 
 ever be anything when people have knowed you 
 ever since you had stone bruises. . . But 
 sometime, somehow, I m going to be a hero. 
 Go ahead, Rencie, and be a detective and if I 
 can ever help you in any way I ll sure do it." 
 
 Rencie nodded slowly and understandingly. 
 Strange companions were these two; trusting 
 each other with their secrets and, what is even 
 more of a test of the communion of two souls, 
 sharing their dreams. 
 
 Rencie lifted his head and on his cheek was 
 the imprint of his hand. He rose slowly to 
 his feet, and nodding a good night to Clem, 
 was gone.
 
 i 4 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem had locked the door and was turning 
 away when he hesitated and drew back. Stroll 
 ing by was a girl with the sweetest of faces, 
 but at the same time a shadow of sadness some 
 where on her features; it was difficult to tell 
 whether it grew in her eyes, hung in the 
 corners of her mouth or was in her weighted 
 step. She bowed and up went Clem s hand 
 and off came his hat, clumsily, but with great 
 respect. He had met her several times, but 
 she had seemed so far above him that he had 
 been rather abashed. She had been in Curry- 
 ville only a few months and had kept to her 
 self much of the time; so much, indeed, that 
 a mystery had grown up around her. From 
 whence she had come no one knew; and less 
 why. 
 
 "This is the first time I have seen our fire 
 house," said Miss Mary Mendenhall sweetly. 
 
 "Would you like to go through it?" 
 
 She did not smile at the idea of "going 
 through it," though there was only one room 
 and everything could be seen from the door.
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 15 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 After Clem had explained all the mysteries 
 of the place, talking with the eager interest of 
 a boy, they started down the street toward the 
 house she had rented and which she was keep 
 ing up with the aid of a servant. To have a 
 servant in Curryville was enough to make any 
 body talked about, let alone not knowing any 
 thing about the person s past history. Before 
 he knew it Clem was talking about himself, 
 telling her intimate things, as we often do to 
 comparative strangers ; about his hope of being 
 a hero some day, somehow. It seemed the most 
 natural thing in the world to be confiding in 
 her. Suddenly he caught himself: 
 
 "This ain t interesting to you. I never told 
 anybody else half that much. Tell me about 
 yourself." 
 
 Miss Mary Mendenhall shook her head. 
 "There isn t anything to tell. I am alone and 
 trying to be happy. You know what hard work 
 it is trying to be happy by yourself." 
 
 "Why ain t you happy, Miss Mary?" asked
 
 i6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem, coming a trifle nearer her edge of the 
 walk. 
 
 She drew away the slightest little bit. "I 
 don t know," she sighed. "Yes, I do know," 
 she said, correcting herself after her kind. "I 
 wish I could tell you I wonder if I can tell 
 you." She looked at him eagerly, studying 
 his honest blue eyes with the fine wrinkles 
 radiating from the corners. The muscles in 
 her lips took life and she was on the point of 
 speaking when the figure of a man loomed 
 ahead of them. At sight of him her lips drew 
 into two hard lines and she turned her head 
 aside without speaking. 
 
 The man was tall, with the calm conquering 
 air of a traveling salesman. Removing his 
 hat, he bowed sweepingly and beamed elab 
 orately. Had he not had such perfect control 
 of himself the beam would have been a smirk. 
 The man was Doctor Fordyce. 
 
 "It s a pleasure to meet two people who look 
 so happy on such a hot evening." Innocently 
 said, it contained something that made the girl
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 17 
 
 give him a quick look and bring down her lips 
 tight against her teeth. 
 
 "I have been hoping I might* meet you again, 
 Miss Mendenhall," continued Doctor Fordyce. 
 
 The girl s lips moved as if to say something, 
 but the words did not formulate themselves. 
 
 "If you will pardon me I ll hasten on," said 
 Miss Mendenhall, and started down the walk. 
 Doctor Fordyce moved to join her, but Clem 
 stepped in in advance and walked with her to 
 her door. When he came back he found Doc 
 tor Fordyce waiting for him. The doctor was 
 evidently trying to ingratiate himself into 
 Clem s favor. 
 
 "Good evening again, Mr. Pointer. Do you 
 know, Mr. Pointer, I like your town so 
 well that I may settle down here and become a 
 taxpaying citizen like yourself? The more 
 I see of Curryville the more I am impressed 
 with it and its citizens." 
 
 Tall, sleek and watchful, there was about 
 him a forced air of gaiety. He waited a 
 moment to see what effect his words had on
 
 his hearer. He wore a frock coat and in its 
 tail he carried a silk handkerchief. That alone 
 prejudiced Clem against him ; no possible good 
 could come from a man who wore a coat to 
 his knees and carried his handkerchief in its 
 tail. When he talked he crossed his arms over 
 his chest and tilted back and forth on his heels, 
 swinging so far from the perpendicular that 
 one trembled for his safety and had an almost 
 irresistible impulse to catch him by the shoul 
 ders and straighten him up again. 
 
 "Yes, it s a right smart town," agreed Clem 
 with true mid-western civic pride. The quick 
 est way to the heart of a man west of the 
 Mississippi River is to say a good word for 
 his town. The people may quarrel among 
 themselves, but when a stranger comes within 
 their gates they are shoulder to shoulder, 
 swearing their own city is the rose-bed of the 
 national flower garden. Doctor Fordyce was 
 civic wise. 
 
 "By the way, Mr. Pointer, would you like 
 to have a monkey? I have one I ve been ex 
 perimenting with in my research work and you
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 19 
 
 may have it. It s a cute little thing. Come 
 on it and see it." By this time they had 
 reached the New Palace Hotel, where the doc 
 tor lived. 
 
 When he swung open the door to his room 
 a little marmoset ran behind the curtains, bear 
 ing its tail aloft in an outraged half-circle. 
 When Doctor Fordyce reached for it the queer 
 little thing brushed its face quickly as if clear 
 ing its eyes, ran up the curtain and swung on 
 the pole. No sooner had Doctor Fordyce 
 mounted a chair than it leaped to his shoulder 
 and ran down his back; he turned and finally 
 captured it in a corner. 
 
 In a few minutes it was quite content in 
 Clem s arms. Clem took off his gold spectacles 
 and laid them aside so that the marmoset would 
 not seize them. Clem did not need glasses, 
 but his sister, Hulda, with whom he lived, 
 thought that he ought to wear them, so he 
 meekly gave in. 
 
 As Clem stroked the monkey s side and 
 pulled its fingers, his sunburned face lighted 
 with a fine smile. Honesty and an almost
 
 20 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 childish simplicity showed in every line of it. 
 "Ain t you a cute thing?" he crooned, giving 
 it a poke. "Land o jumpin , but you got tail 
 to burn. Say, what makes you scratch so 
 is it fleas or just pastime?" 
 
 Doctor Fordyce half sat in the window 
 studying Clem. His eyes winked fast and he 
 cleared his throat he was preparing a ques 
 tion. "Oh, by the way, Mr. Pointer, have 
 you known Miss Mendenhall long?" 
 
 "She has not lived here long," returned 
 Clem simply. "Why?" 
 
 "I just wondered that was all." He low 
 ered his voice. "Has she ever said anything 
 about herself where she came from and those 
 things you understand ?" 
 
 His face was expressionless, even though 
 smiling. Doctor Fordyce chose his words 
 carefully. He was too skilled in psychology 
 to say too much. 
 
 "No," answered Clem. "Not a word." 
 
 With the marmoset buttoned under his coat, 
 Clem went hurrying down the street, cut a 
 Corner and came into his own back yard. The
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 21 
 
 kitchen porch was as methodically and careful 
 ly arranged as an office : the washing-machine 
 with its wringer, the screws carefully loosened 
 so that the rubber cylinders would not meet and 
 flatten during the six idle days, was backed 
 carefully into the corner; a broom stood on its 
 handle that the straws might not flatten and 
 on a nail in the wall, carefully protected from 
 the weather-boarding by pale oilcloth so that 
 the drippings would not show, hung a shining 
 dishpan. Not a spot or a speck could give 
 evidence against the mistress of this house. 
 
 Clem tugged at the white button on the 
 screen door. Here and there a damp spot still 
 splotched the freshly mopped kitchen floor 
 and the odor of stove blacking still hung heavy 
 on the air. 
 
 "Hulda, Hulda," called Clem, "see what I ve 
 got!" 
 
 "Be careful of your feet," came a muffled 
 voice from the pantry. "Don t track everything 
 up. I might know you d be gettin back just 
 as I got all the work finished." 
 
 Clem paused in the doorway; on her knees,
 
 22 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 her outer skirt folded up and caught around 
 her hips, a cake of scouring soap in one hand 
 and a brush in the other, Hulda was making 
 a mirror of the pantry floor. 
 
 With Hulda cleanliness was more than next 
 to godliness, for who could hope to be godly 
 without first being cleanly? A spot on the 
 table-cloth made her lose her appetite and a 
 speck on her Sunday alpaca made her positive 
 ly ill. Her proud boast was that she was al 
 ways prepared for company ; it made no differ 
 ence how unexpectedly they came she never 
 had to scurry over the house shutting doors, 
 tossing shoes into corners and pushing things 
 under the bed. 
 
 "I got a surprise for you, Hulda," keeping 
 his coat pulled over the marmoset. 
 
 "No, you ain t you re just as late as ever. 
 There ain t a woman in Curryville that keeps 
 her house in half as good order as I do 
 you can t put your fingers on top of a single 
 door in this house and find dust and you ain t 
 here a minute more than you have to be to en 
 joy it. Just this day Mrs. Kiggins said to me,
 
 Company ! A monkey company to me !
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 23 
 
 Miss Pointer, you are the best housekeeper I 
 ever see in my life, and what do I get for it? 
 Nothing. Three meals a day and having to do 
 the dishes myself. Shut that screen before the 
 house s full of flies. Stand on the edge of 
 that zinc till the floor dries. Now, what you 
 got?" 
 
 "A a monkey, Hulda," said Clem meekly. 
 
 "A monkey!" exclaimed Hulda, coming to 
 her feet with an audible snap in her knees, 
 and bracing a hand on each hip. "A monkey !" 
 
 "Yes, Hulda. I thought it would be com 
 pany for you while I had to be down-town." 
 
 "Company ! A monkey company to me ! It 
 takes two monkeys to be company and, Clem 
 Pointer, I ain t a monkey. I hate em. I 
 hate the sight of em." 
 
 Clem mounted it on his arm ; the little thing 
 wiped its face and turned its head to one side 
 as if cleverly calculating, if it made a dash, 
 how far its freedom might extend. Then sud 
 denly it reached behind its ear and scratched. 
 
 "Take it out, take the thing out," wailed 
 Hulda. "They ll drop on the floor."
 
 24 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem backed away. 
 
 "Don t get into that fly-paper, and be care 
 ful of that lamp chimney. Don t drop any of 
 of them." 
 
 "That ain t what you think it is," pleaded 
 Clem. "That s just a habit. I looked it over 
 carefully and it ain t got anything. It would 
 be so amusing to have around on rainy days." 
 
 Hulda s arm shot out into a commanding 
 line, the finger straight at the door. 
 
 Clem edged through it slowly. Hulda put 
 the back of her hand up to her mouth in hesita 
 tion, started to raise her voice, then checked 
 herself. 
 
 Slowly an ellipsis of Clem s face cut into the 
 rectangle of the door, growing until it was 
 an eclipse, his nose pressed against the screen. 
 
 "Well, put it in the wood-shed then," said 
 Hulda more kindly, and turned back to her 
 brush and soap. 
 
 "Much talk about the camp-meeting to-day, 
 Clem ?" asked Hulda as her brother came back, 
 her voice softer. 
 
 "Yes, people are getting interested. It ll be
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 25 
 
 a big success this year. Can I do anything to 
 help, Hulda?" 
 
 "Yes, rub off the checker-board." 
 
 Up went Clem s hand to his nose. 
 
 "There, that s better! You might help set 
 the table if you want to right bad." 
 
 Clem turned to his duties with more willing 
 ness than skill and soon the red cover was 
 spread, the dishes glistening on it. 
 
 "I guess we d better fall to," Hulda said, 
 bringing out a plate of potato cakes, crisp and 
 brown. They ate in silence until Hulda 
 reached down at her side where a pitcher of 
 milk was cooling in a pail of water, then rest 
 ing the pitcher on the edge of the bucket until 
 the last drip had splashed, she poured Clem a 
 second glass, and without lifting her eyes 
 asked : 
 
 "What are you going to call it?" 
 
 The way she held on to the last word left 
 no room for doubt as to what was meant. 
 
 "Garibaldi." 
 
 "Why?" 
 
 Clem bent over his potato cake for a minute,
 
 26 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 then answered more as if thinking aloud than 
 replying to a question: 
 
 "He was a great man and and a hero." 
 
 Clem finished and pushed back in his chair. 
 Hulda interpreted the action. 
 
 "Now you just stay home to-night and be 
 company for me. I guess they can play check 
 ers down to the Owl one night without you. 
 I can t understand why you want to leave a 
 spick and span home and hang around an old 
 filthy drug store. Man nature is beyond me !" 
 
 Clem turned back and silently helped clear off 
 the dishes. He drew down the window shades, 
 lighted the lamp and opened his paper. After 
 she had dried the dishes Hulda drew her chair 
 to the other side of the round, white marble- 
 topped table, with a yellow crack running 
 through it, and took up her Bible. She turned 
 through it until she came to a book-mark that 
 at first looked like a blur of red and blue yarn 
 but,Jield right side up, spelled in fancy letters, 
 "Love thy Neighbor," and began puzzling over 
 where she had left off. With one elbow on the 
 table she read the Holy Word, but after a time
 
 CLEM OF CURRYVILLE 27 
 
 the Bible began sinking lower and lower, stop 
 ping suddenly and coming abruptly back into 
 place, but each time falling a little below its 
 former mark. Finally it dropped into her lap, 
 struggled once or twice to rise and finally lay 
 there peacefully, her broad thumb in the fold. 
 Across the table, Clem s head turned limply 
 sidewise, the lines in his neck drawn tight, his 
 lips parting to a low rhythmic intake. The 
 paper, slipping farther and farther down his 
 lap, at last worked over his knees and fluttered 
 to the floor. 
 
 Suddenly the sharp insistent ringing of a 
 bell broke over them. 
 
 Clem leaped to his feet. "It s a fire," he 
 exclaimed. 
 
 A runner went clattering by on the side 
 walk. 
 
 Clem hurried after his hat; Hulda opened 
 the front door and stood in it with the lamp 
 held high, lighting his way. "Don t catch cold, 
 Clem," she warned as he clicked the front 
 gate, "and don t do any heavy liftin ." 
 
 After his footsteps had died away she came
 
 28 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 back and set the lamp over the yellow crack. 
 Then she got out a pair of her brother s socks. 
 "Like as not he ll come back wet and ll want 
 to change," she said, turning up the lamp and 
 flattening the end of the thread between her 
 teeth.
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 
 
 AFIRE in Curryville was a great social 
 event. Everybody went. You would 
 just as soon think of missing the free parade 
 on circus day, with the clown who was always 
 stumbling over his own feet and falling smack 
 down on his face and coming up and rubbing 
 the wrong spot, as you would of failing to run 
 to a fire. Rich and poor fought the flames to 
 gether, working side by side: Judge Wood- 
 bridge, who wore the only genuine Panama in 
 town, passing the bucket along to Rick Oody, 
 who made away with all the horses after they 
 were too old and crippled to work. Give Rick 
 two dollars and with a spade over one shoul 
 der and the halter rope in his free hand he 
 would lead the shambling old horse down the 
 street, its hips sticking up under its hide like 
 29
 
 30 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 two bed-posts with a quilt thrown over them, 
 Down past the ice-house he would lead him, 
 then out of sight around Diedrich Bend. An 
 hour or two later he would come whistling 
 back, a line of clay across the bottom of the 
 spade, heading straight toward Joe s Place, 
 the halter swinging empty in his hand. 
 
 "Where is the fire, Rencie?" panted Clem, 
 holding the heel of his hand over his heart. 
 Rencie had turned in the alarm. 
 
 Everybody turned in expectancy toward 
 Rencie. "I tell you I did some tall running. 
 I bet there ain t another boy in town d been 
 here yet. I was asleep when ma came running 
 into my room and said there was a fire, but I 
 have myself trained so when I wake up I wake 
 up all over. " 
 
 "But where is it?" demanded the men in 
 chorus. 
 
 "So I jumped into my clothes quicker n 
 lightning and came tearing down to turn in 
 the alarm." 
 
 Rencie was bound to get the most out of his 
 exalted position.
 
 A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 31 
 
 "You can t make the run with us if you don t 
 hurry up." 
 
 "I guess I broke some records. I got out 
 in the middle of the street part way." 
 
 Clem put his hand on Rencie s shoulder. 
 
 "In the old Kemp house," said Rencie with 
 the last nibble at the sweets. 
 
 In a moment the fire cart was in the middle 
 of the street and the men were lining up on 
 the tongue and rope. Each fireman had to 
 take hold of the pulling rope with his hands and 
 run as best he could. Clem rang the bell and 
 the Curryville fire department went swinging 
 down Main Street. 
 
 The yard was full of people long before the 
 fire wagon arrived. Rick Oody was half-way 
 up a ladder against the side of the house yelling 
 directions at the top of his voice, his trousers 
 hanging to one hip. "Smash in that window," 
 he called frantically. "Get some water; bring 
 me a rope. Save the furniture. Why don t 
 you do something if you ain t a-goin to do 
 something let me come down there !" 
 
 Judge Woodbridge, in his striped undershirt
 
 32 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 with his suspenders pulled over it, his bare 
 feet thrust into his shoes, laces flying loose, 
 was puffing his way through the crowd, com 
 manding everybody to be quiet and not get 
 excited. The judge was the most excited per 
 son there, his voice sometimes rising high 
 and breaking. "Now don t get excited. It 
 ain t a windy night; just keep your heads. 
 I ve been through the War and seen worse 
 fires than this. Mrs. Kiggins, now don t you 
 begin crying and spluttering around." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins was saving things. Pushing 
 open a door he rushed in, a finger of smoke 
 twisting out after him. He was gone a minute, 
 then appeared holding a glass case in one hand ; 
 in it were two wax humming-birds, one sitting 
 on a huneysuckle twig and the other hanging 
 in the air, its bill buried in the heart of a 
 flower. In the other hand he carried a bamboo 
 newspaper rack. Mr. Kiggins burst through 
 the crowd, bowling everybody over until he 
 was free, then he dropped the glass case with 
 a crash and painstakingly deposited the paper 
 rack in the shelter of a tree. Rushing back he
 
 A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 33 
 
 came out with a steaming kettle of water and 
 carefully set it out of harm s way. 
 
 Finally the firemen came up panting, whirled 
 the cart around and Clem, with the nozzle in 
 his hand, ran out the hose. A board was jerked 
 off the platform around the well and one end 
 of the hose let down into the water. Then 
 the men began to work the pumps. Nobody 
 wanted to man the pumps but there were al 
 ways plenty to play the stream. 
 
 Not until he was almost in the yard did it 
 flash over Clem whose house it was. The old 
 Kemp house was the one Miss Mary Menden- 
 hall had rented for the summer. A fear that 
 he could not name caught his heart. But when 
 word came that Miss Mendenhall with her 
 servant were accounted for he turned to the 
 work before him. 
 
 He ran up the ladder with the hose wrig 
 gling in his arms, and thrust it through a 
 window. 
 
 "Take it cool, Clem, take it cool," urged 
 Judge Woodbridge ; "don t try to crawl in that 
 window you ll be killed sure. I saw worse
 
 34 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 fires n this in the War. If you feel tired 
 handling the hose I ll take it!" 
 
 Clem did not hear, or at least pay attention. 
 
 Mr. Kiggins came hurrying up. 
 
 "You go an inspect things, Clem," he said, 
 reaching for the brass nose. "I ll take the 
 nozzle." 
 
 Clem waved him away. "I couldn t trust it 
 to anybody else. You go and help on the 
 pumps." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins fell back, but he didn t go to 
 the pumps. Disappearing through the door 
 he was back in a half -second with one hand 
 full of magazines and in the other a highly 
 polished shell that if you put up to your ear 
 and listened you could hear the sea roaring in. 
 Hurling his salvage to the ground he rushed 
 back to further service. 
 
 Rick Oody bobbed up at Clem s side. 
 "How s she workin to-night, Clem?" asked 
 Rick, greedily eying the nozzle. "I got time 
 to play her a minute." 
 
 Suddenly Clara, the maid living in the house.
 
 In his arms was a nightrobed figure
 
 A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 35 
 
 burst through the crowd. "Where s Miss 
 Mendenhall?" she cried. "This was my night 
 off and I just got back. Ain t anybody seen 
 her?" 
 
 A hurried search was made; nobody had 
 seen her. Clem thrust the hose into Rencie 
 Ford s hands and ran into the house. A 
 hushed expectant silence fell over the crowd. 
 The crackling of the flames on the shingles 
 and the intake of the pump sounded for the 
 first time. A minute dragged by, the smoke 
 silently worming its way out through the 
 broken panes. 
 
 Then Clem appeared. In his arms was a 
 night-robed figure. He staggered across the 
 porch but half a dozen hands caught him. 
 
 "It s Miss Mendenhall," cried Clara. 
 "Thank the Lord," rubbing out a red patch of 
 fire in the girl s robe with her bare hands. In 
 a moment the girl s head was resting in Clara s 
 lap. Miss Mendenhall opened her eyes and 
 Clara raised her own to heaven, her lips mov 
 ing silently.
 
 36 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 After the first anxiety had subsided, the 
 crowd flowed over to Clem. From lip to lip 
 flew words of praise. 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins helped Miss Mendenhall to 
 her feet. The girl looked around dizzily until 
 she found a certain face in the background. 
 "I want to thank you from the bottom of my 
 heart," she said simply. "You have saved my 
 life." 
 
 "It ain t anything," stammered Clem, then 
 bit his lip in realization that that wasn t the 
 right thing to say. But he would add some 
 thing that would fix it up: "I hope you re 
 feeling well." 
 
 Miss Mendenhall smiled faintly. "Not just 
 exactly well but thankful." 
 
 "You sure had a close call," put in Mrs. 
 Kiggins. "The other night I had a dream 
 about you you know, I m psychic and I saw 
 all this just as plain as day." 
 
 "It makes me shudder to think," said the 
 girl at the first pause, "to think what what 
 if you hadn t come." 
 
 "It was sure lucky. I could have warned
 
 37 
 
 you in advance, being as I seen you so plain, 
 but well, you come home with me and I ll 
 tell you about it. I wasn t any more n a 
 girl when I discovered this gift and " 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins shut off from sight the white 
 figure with its flowing hair, and Clem stood 
 looking after until Judge Woodbridge came 
 up and patted him on the shoulder. "I know 
 your knees must be wabbly so I ll help you 
 home." 
 
 "I don t think he needs much help," de 
 clared a voice at Judge Woodbridge s side. 
 There was an insinuation in it that meant more 
 than the mere words. "It s been my experience 
 that a little smoke doesn t hurt a healthy man." 
 Clem turned quickly; it was Doctor Fordyce. 
 
 The judge stiffened as if to give more em 
 phatic answer than speech, then deliberately 
 turned his back on the tall figure of the doc 
 tor, and put his hand under Clem s elbow to 
 escort him down the street. 
 
 "Don t pay any attention to him," whispered 
 the judge. "You re a hero. Make a bow." 
 
 Clem stiffened and nodded his head abrupt-
 
 ly, while a chorus of voices called out words 
 of approval and hope that he would be feeling 
 all right by morning. Hard as Clem tried to 
 look humble he could not help lifting his head 
 and stepping a trifle higher than was needed, 
 especially when he had such a substantial and 
 dignified escort as the corpulent judge. 
 
 At the gate Judge Woodbridge paused and 
 dropped his hand on Clem s shoulder. "There s 
 nobody in Curryville I d rather see this honor 
 come to than you. Come into my office to 
 morrow, Clem, and make yourself at home." 
 
 Clem hurried up the path to his porch. At 
 last his dreams had come true ; everything had 
 happened with such a rush that he scarcely 
 realized it all. A square of light opened in the 
 wall ; in the middle was framed Hulda s broad 
 figure. 
 
 "Hulda, I got something great to tell you," 
 bubbled Clem. 
 
 "No, you ain t ! Gertie Knabb run in here a 
 minute ago and told me all about it. Seems 
 to me you could find something better to do 
 than to go around carrying undressed women
 
 A GREAT SOCIAL EVENT 39 
 
 in your arms, and from what I hear she ain t 
 the best of reputations anyway. You take a 
 hot foot-bath and a mustard plaster and go to 
 bed. I don t want you sniffin around with a 
 cold the rest of the summer." 
 
 Hulda waved Clem toward a candy-bucket 
 steaming full of hot water on the linoleum in 
 the kitchen. 
 
 Before making ready for the steaming pail 
 Clem looked into the wood-shed. Garibaldi was 
 gone. Clem called softly but the creature did 
 not answer. In his bare feet on the rough 
 stones Clem called and called, but there was no 
 response. When he turned toward the house 
 Hulda was standing in the window, and an 
 explanation leaped into his mind. He fixed 
 his lips to speak, but the words would not 
 come; he quailed before his sister. 
 
 "Good riddance of bad rubbish," she said, 
 and turned back to her reading.
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 QUITE A CATCH 
 
 44"VTOU had a mighty close call last night," 
 JL said Mrs. Kiggins the next morning, 
 coming into the room that she had given over 
 to Miss Mary Mendenhall. "I saw it all in 
 a dream as plain as I can see my hand. I was 
 walking in a big forest all by myself when I 
 saw a spurt of smoke come out of a place 
 where a limb had been sawed off and purty 
 soon the whole tree was in smoke. Then a 
 squirrel darted away with his tail streaming 
 out behind. Purty soon a cloud carried you 
 down and set you up against a tree. In my 
 psychical dream everything has to be inter 
 preted. The tree was your house, and the 
 squirrel was Rencie Ford running to turn in 
 the alarm and of course the cloud was Clem 
 Pointer." 
 
 40
 
 QUITE A CATCH 41 
 
 "Oh, I see," sighed the girl. "Mr. Pointer 
 was very brave, wasn t he ?" 
 
 "Yes. But I always say What s the use of 
 telling people about a thing like that? it only 
 makes em worry. Now, don t you think so, 
 Miss Mendenhall?" 
 
 "I suppose so. Do you think the strain was 
 too much for him ?" 
 
 "No, he s strong. Some say I ought to tell 
 people as soon as I get a vision, but I don t 
 think so. What s going to be is going to be, 
 and it can t be helped. You ought to be thank 
 ful you got off as lucky as you did." 
 
 The girl mused a moment. "I wouldn t if 
 it hadn t been for him. Everybody seems to 
 like him." 
 
 "Yes. One time I foretold a sick spell that 
 Clem was going to have. I saw him layin in 
 a pile of feathers just like it was yesterday 
 and moaning. Sure enough he got sick and 
 they put him on a feather bed. Do you think 
 I ought to charge for my gift?" 
 
 "You might lose it then. Was it anything 
 serious?"
 
 42 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Typhoid and I knowed what it was two 
 days before the doctor did. We don t have 
 much sickness in Curryville now," said Mrs. 
 Kiggins, laying a deliberate trap. "Oh, by the 
 way, how do you like our city ?" 
 
 The girl was looking out the window as she 
 brushed her hair. "I find it very pleasant," 
 coming back to herself. 
 
 "I don t believe I remember where you said 
 you was raised," casting a sharp eager look 
 at her night s refugee. Miss Mendenhall was 
 a mystery to the people of Curryville, and Mrs. 
 Kiggins would make the best of this oppor 
 tunity. 
 
 "I don t believe I ever said," returned the 
 girl innocently. 
 
 This did not stem Mrs. Kiggins curiosity. 
 
 "Oh, I thought it w T as St. Louis. Funny how 
 a person gets an idea like that," covered up 
 Mrs. Kiggins. 
 
 "Isn t it?" 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins drew the face of the sterling- 
 backed mirror across her apron. "There s water 
 in the pitcher, Miss Mendenhall. Come down
 
 QUITE A CATCH 43 
 
 to breakfast soon s you get slicked up." Mrs. 
 Kiggins turned in the door, one hand on the 
 jam and the other on her hip. Then she fired 
 a random shot to see if it would give her a 
 gossip hold. "How s your work getting along 
 now?" 
 
 She knew that her night s guest worked at 
 something over the heads of the people of 
 Curryville, but what it was she didn t know. 
 It had caused her much uneasiness. Her psy 
 chic dreams stubbornly refused to come to the 
 aid of her curiosity. She did not know that 
 her night s guest was a writer of books, and 
 had she known, it would have meant little 
 to her. 
 
 "Quite satisfactorily." 
 
 This wasn t very enlightening. 
 
 "Don t it tire you out this warm weather?" 
 
 "I can work better in summer than in win 
 ter." 
 
 "Oh, I see." Mrs. Kiggins didn t, but that 
 covered up as well as anything. "The soap s 
 in the box. Our water s so hard you ll have 
 to use a lot of it."
 
 44 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Thanks. I shall. Have you any writing- 
 paper?" 
 
 After Mrs. Kiggins had gone Mary Menden- 
 hall sat down at the writing-table and thought 
 for a long time. She rilled a page, read it 
 and tore it up. She couldn t think how she 
 wanted to say it, so she addressed the envelope 
 and began again. The envelope was addressed 
 to Mr. Clement Pointer. Once more she tried 
 and this time finished the letter. Then she 
 read it over ; a letter seemed so cold and unap- 
 preciative when she could thank him face to 
 face, and besides it would give her another 
 chance to see him in person. It is in just such 
 little indecisions as this that trouble builds its 
 nest. 
 
 "The toast s getting cold." There was a bit 
 of impatience in Mrs. Kiggins voice. 
 
 Mary tore the pages into bits, dropped them 
 into the waste-basket and went down-stairs. 
 
 She had scarcely finished her toast when 
 Mrs. Kiggins came bustling into the room 
 full of excitement. "Doctor Fordyce has come 
 to see you. He s quite a ketch and I don t
 
 QUITE A CATCH 45 
 
 blame you for settin your cap for him. They 
 say he s goin to build a big medicine factory 
 here. We re all mighty glad he come to Curry- 
 ville." 
 
 Mary Mendenhall sank weakly back and 
 colored down her pretty throat. "Please tell 
 the doctor that I can t see him." 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins gasped. "I guess you didn t 
 understand it s Doctor Fordyce the new 
 doctor." 
 
 "Yes, I know. Tell him that it is impossi 
 ble for me to see him." 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins slowly pivoted on her heels, 
 shaking her head, a movement more eloquent 
 than her words would have been. In a moment 
 she was back. "He says that he must see you. 
 He has a grand air about him. I never see a 
 man that could carry himself the way he does 
 and he helps a lady up steps elegantly." 
 
 "Tell him that I can not see him." 
 
 Mrs . Kiggins looked dumfounded. "All 
 the other girls would be just crazy to have him 
 pay them attention, Miss Mendenhall." 
 
 Mary Mendenhall shook her head, and Mrs.
 
 46 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Kiggins slowly withdrew only to return again. 
 "He has an automobile, and he says he just 
 must. He is the gentleman like he might have 
 traveled abroad." 
 
 The girl s face clouded. "All right, then, 
 tell him to come in." 
 
 In a moment she stepped to the parlor door 
 and Doctor Fordyce arose to meet her. Her 
 face was flushed, the color making it even 
 more attractive. There was a poise and swing 
 about her to gladden any eye. 
 
 "I must see you," said Doctor Fordyce 
 under his breath. "We will be alone," waving 
 his hand to the machine outside. 
 
 "This is not a very fitting time, just after a 
 fire in which most of my clothes were burned 
 up." 
 
 "You can wrap up and with a veil you won t 
 need anything else." 
 
 She got into the machine with him and in 
 a few minutes they were outside the boundaries 
 of Curryville. Doctor Fordyce looked straight 
 ahead as if planning a campaign. "I thank 
 my stars every hour that I have found you,"
 
 QUITE A CATCH 47 
 
 he began. "I had given up all hope when 
 chance brought me to this town. I have hunted 
 everywhere for you; you have never been out 
 of my mind an hour since we parted. Parted 
 is rather a weak word since you drove me 
 away. And not content with that you must 
 suddenly disappear. But now I have you and 
 that is all that matters." 
 
 The girl faced slowly toward him, drawing 
 back slightly, and looking steadily into his 
 eyes. "I thought you were bringing me out 
 here to tell me something." 
 
 "I am the greatest thing in the world 
 love." A gallant sentence, but one that did 
 not ring true. It was said with too much 
 sureness, too much ease, too much dexterity. 
 
 "Turn around and take me straight back to 
 town." 
 
 Doctor Fordyce looked at her in surprise. 
 A hard line ran along his lips and the soft 
 pleading note left his voice. "Not until you 
 promise me to make me happy." 
 
 "You know why I want nothing to do with 
 you why I hate you why "
 
 48 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "I am going to teach you to love me." Said 
 with the same note of calmness and sureness. 
 Behind it could be felt a will strong enough 
 to follow any course that would bring this 
 about. 
 
 "I know that one person can make another 
 love him," he continued, "and I am going to 
 make you. You may hate me now, but when 
 you see the depth and steadfastness of my 
 affection your heart will soften. Right is right 
 and you must love me. Love is such a big 
 overpowering thing that it can not be re 
 sisted." 
 
 "But I won t love you that is all. I can t 
 and I won t. I tell you I hate you. It makes 
 no difference what you say or do, I will not 
 love you." 
 
 He took his eyes off the road again and 
 turned them toward her. A slow smile grew 
 in the corners of his mouth. In it was con 
 fidence, the slow conquering confidence of a 
 man who would not be put aside. 
 
 Mary felt a rush of fright. She was afraid 
 of the smile. She acted quickly:
 
 QUITE A CATCH 49 
 
 "I ask you to take me back to town." 
 
 "I will when I have finished telling you 
 that I love you. I want to save you." 
 
 "Save me from what ?" 
 
 The man did not say anything for some 
 minutes. He looked at her as if determining 
 something in his mind. His lips parted to 
 speak, but closed without their message. A 
 less close observer would have said that a 
 great struggle was going on in his mind. 
 
 "I hate to tell you," he said, biting his lips. 
 "I had hoped that I would not have to. But 
 you know how eager a small town is to talk 
 a small jay town. No one here knows any 
 thing about you ; you have never told any one 
 where you came from, who your father was 
 or anything about you and naturally they 
 watch every move you make with well, with 
 more than eagerness with suspicion. Evi 
 dently you have no means of livelihood and 
 you keep a servant, which in a town like this 
 simply kindles gossip." He turned his head 
 aside. "Is that enough?" he asked when he 
 brought it back.
 
 50 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "No," she said with less manner than she 
 had shown before. 
 
 "Well, people are beginning to talk about 
 you and Pointer. I know it s outrageous, and 
 I have done everything I could to smooth it 
 over, but you know how it is in a town of 
 this size. You drop in at his fire house and 
 take long walks with him and I guess that 
 some of the girls are jealous of you you 
 know, because you are pretty and so it goes. 
 His carrying you out of the fire last night 
 hasn t helped things. I had hoped that I 
 wouldn t have to speak of this at all/ He 
 faced full upon her. "I had hoped that a 
 statement of my love would be sufficient and 
 that once people knew we meant something to 
 each other the dirty tongues would stop wag 
 ging." 
 
 Mary Mendenhall looked steadily at him. 
 He drew the car down to a rhythmical sing 
 ing. Only her intuition saved her. 
 
 "Well, let them talk. I have done nothing 
 to be ashamed of and I shall face them out." 
 
 "What if they find out your real name?"
 
 QUITE A CATCH 51 
 
 "There is nobody to tell them except your 
 self." 
 
 "I didn t mean that. Whatever I have done 
 has been to save you." 
 
 "I could go to another city but " 
 
 "I would follow you." 
 
 " but I shall not. I am going to stay here 
 and fight it out." 
 
 "Do you love me just the least little bit?" 
 leaning over. 
 
 The girl studied for a long deliberate min 
 ute. "No." 
 
 The man was just as long in answering. 
 "You shall." 
 
 "Please take me back at once." 
 
 Fordyce kept straight on. 
 
 "Are you going to take me back to town?" 
 
 "The air s pleasant and I prescribe it for 
 you." His arm reached out and drew her to 
 ward him. Before she realized it he had kissed 
 her. 
 
 She was so angry that for a moment she 
 scarcely realized what had happened. "Let me 
 out!" she demanded.
 
 52 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Desperate cases need desperate remedies," 
 he laughed. 
 
 "Are you going to let me out?" 
 
 "Don t be foolish, Mary it s six miles back 
 to town." 
 
 "Are you going to be a gentleman?" 
 
 "I m going to keep you with me every mo 
 ment than I can." 
 
 "I see you dodge the gentleman part. I 
 suppose it is pretty late to begin." 
 
 With that she pulled at the catch on the 
 door, swung out on the running board and then 
 down. She gathered herself up from her knees 
 and brushed the dust off her scanty dress. 
 
 He reversed the machine and came up be 
 hind her. "Don t be foolish. What would 
 the people think if they saw you walking back 
 to town alone and your clothes dusty, and 
 when I have been doing everything I could to 
 stop the rumors about you !" 
 
 The girl climbed over the fence and ran into 
 the field until she could no longer hear the 
 sound of his motor. Then Fordyce threw in
 
 QUITE A CATCH 53 
 
 top speed and went chugging back toward 
 Curryville. 
 
 An hour and a half later she came up the 
 street and before she knew it she was almost 
 abreast of the cool shady house where Clem 
 Pointer and his sister lived. At sight of it she 
 paused. She wanted more than anything else 
 to go to Hulda and tell her how much she ap 
 preciated what her brother had done for her, 
 and to pour out her thankfulness. Then she 
 recalled what Fordyce had said of gossip about 
 them. She had told him that she cared not 
 what people said or thought, so long as she 
 was innocent, but now at the moment of deci 
 sion the woman in her, trained by a million 
 grandmothers, was unable to fly in the face of 
 convention. 
 
 If she had gone to Hulda and told of her 
 gratitude, and of the statements and insinua 
 tions of Doctor Fordyce the stream of Curry- 
 ville s history would have run in a different 
 channel.
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 
 
 FOR the first time in years the morning 
 after the fire, Clem hated to go down 
 town. Usually he hurried away on the slight 
 est pretext and he was pretty good at finding 
 pretexts. Hulda s view of his heroism had 
 taken all desire for recognition out of him. 
 Every time she looked at him he felt guilty 
 of something; he didn t know just what. 
 
 He was in the grape arbor propping up the 
 heavily laden vines when he heard a rustling 
 in the tree overhead. It was Garibaldi. Clem 
 gave a joyful cry and started up after his pet, 
 but Garibaldi loved freedom as much as his 
 namesake had and swung to another limb and 
 chattered mockingly into Clem s face. Clem 
 climbed after him, but Garibaldi leaped lightly 
 54
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 55 
 
 away. Clem began to coax with honeyed voice 
 and extended hand, but Garibaldi was perfect 
 ly satisfied to let well enough alone. 
 
 Hulda came out with a crock of potato peel 
 ings and flung them over into the chicken yard. 
 "Land sakes alive, Clem! Whatever has got 
 into you ? You didn t get hurt in the head last 
 night, did you?" 
 
 Clem explained his gymnastics. 
 
 "You riskin your neck for that monkey! 
 What if the preacher d come by ! Come down 
 this minute!" 
 
 Clem did, but not the way his sister meant. 
 His hand had just closed on Garibaldi when 
 the limb on which he stood gave way and down 
 he pitched, crumpling up where he fell. 
 
 Hulda ran to her brother s side. He groaned 
 once and became unconscious. It took some 
 thing like this to make her realize her affection 
 but it does most people for that matter. 
 She sped to the neighbors for help. When 
 she returned Clem s eyes were open and when 
 the doctor arrived he pronounced it only a 
 wrenched shoulder. The news spread and by
 
 56 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 noon the house was full of sympathetic vis 
 itors. 
 
 As Clem sat in the parlor one could but 
 admire his blue eyes, patched in as they were 
 with a hundred wrinkles from being so much 
 in the western sun. They were kindly, some 
 times dreamy eyes, wandering away off over 
 the hills and building new worlds of their own, 
 but always coming back with a friendly twin 
 kle. Slow in speech was Clem, always willing 
 to be the listener, hesitating long before open 
 ing his heart to a stranger. 
 
 In the kitchen Hulda gave directions to her 
 assistants. When there was anything the mat 
 ter with Clem she couldn t say or do enough 
 for him. 
 
 "Clem s got a wonderful constitution. I 
 never saw a man with such a constitution. 
 The fall would have killed any other mai , but 
 he ll be out to-morrow. The salt s in the white 
 bowl, Mrs. Knabb. And not afraid of any 
 thing. That s the reason he could rescue Miss 
 Mendenhall last night. I guess it ll be a long 
 time before this town sees anything braver n
 
 The limb gave way and down he pitched
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 57 
 
 that. You know, Mrs. Ford, he hain t said 
 hardly a word about it to me. I wanted him 
 to tell me about it but not a word would he 
 say. Whatever I get I have to find out from 
 the neighbors that s how modest he is. Put 
 the skillet drippings in the tin can there, Mrs. 
 Kiggins. I always save them and after they 
 get too strong for cooking they make fine 
 soap." 
 
 On his way back from supper Mr. Kiggins 
 looked in. "You have a funny way of amusin 
 yourself," he greeted Clem. "A hero last 
 night and a sick horse now. Bunged up your 
 shoulder, did you? You know rheum tism is 
 likely to set in and go to your heart. Then 
 it s good-by, Curryville." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins was never intended to be a com 
 fort to the sick. 
 
 "Last night, after I got home from the fire 
 my rheum tism set in again. Got wet, you 
 know. Almost in the same place your shoul 
 der s knocked out. I hadn t any more n hit 
 the feathers until it seemed to me seven devils 
 with chin whiskers grabbed me and begun
 
 58 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 pullin the hide off my shoulder in strips, peelin 
 it off like takin off old wall-paper. Once in 
 a while a chunk of meat d stick on the wall 
 paper, the blood oozin out, and they d scrape 
 it off with a paddle and clean the paddle on 
 the back of a butcher knife. 
 
 "But I ain t a man to talk about my own 
 afflictions. Have you tried a mustard poultice ? 
 I remember comin to this very house, before 
 you moved here, to see Kyle Fuller who d fell 
 down the cellar steps and twisted his shoulder 
 about like yours. He was settin right over 
 in that corner where you are. He didn t think 
 it amounted to much at first and let it run 
 along. I told him to look out for the 
 rheum tism but he didn t pay any attention. 
 In just nine days I closed up the White Front 
 to go to his funeral! 
 
 "Miss Mendenhall dropped in to the store 
 to-day and was asking about you. Well, I 
 must run along, Clem. I m glad to find you so 
 cheerful but you can t tell how quick rheum - 
 tism ll set in." 
 
 Clem recovered rapidly, but there was a
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 59 
 
 wound inside that could not be rebuilt by new 
 tissues. Why didn t he receive some word of 
 thanks, or at least an acknowledgment from 
 Miss Mendenhall? Surely she could send him 
 a note. 
 
 Before he knew it camp-meeting week was 
 upon him. Each year he dreaded the coming 
 of camp-meeting more and more, and each year 
 it was a keener enjoyment to Hulda. Clem 
 was not an orthodox believer and it grated 
 on him to have to bow down in unbelieving 
 worship. 
 
 The meetings were held in Turner s Grove, 
 just far enough from Curryville to get wash 
 ing water from the river and near enough 
 to carry cooking water from the town pump. 
 Monday afternoon every believing family 
 moved out in a tent, only running back home 
 often enough to replenish the visible food sup 
 ply, sleeping and camping in the tent until 
 after the rousing, big Sunday night meeting. 
 
 Bright and early the wagons of the farmers 
 came rolling in, the father sitting in the front 
 seat, the seat tilting to his side from long use.
 
 60 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Behind him sat his wife with the baby in her 
 arms and beside her the next youngest. Be 
 hind her sat the girls, their bright bows flutter 
 ing, and one boy sweltering in a heavy coat 
 too tight across the shoulders and too short 
 in the sleeves. In a leather bottomed chair sat 
 the grandmother, a faded quilt over her knees 
 to keep the dust off her black alpaca. 
 
 The families drew together for their meals, 
 kneeling around in a circle, the men sitting in 
 groups, each trying to keep a napkin from 
 sliding off one knee, talking crops ; the women 
 putting the jam on the biscuits, elbow to elbow, 
 discussing the sermon. The boys, a chicken leg 
 in one hand and a pear preserve in the other, 
 scuffled and giggled, while the little girls, with 
 their skirts carefully drawn up, clustered to 
 gether sharing secrets. The dinner was 
 brought in a big basket with a lid and handles 
 that folded together over it. Just as certain 
 as dinner-time came the glass of elderberry 
 jelly was certain to be upset. It had a small 
 bottom and a tin top. Sticking out from under 
 the cover were ears of paper and just as surely
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 61 
 
 as one of the boys tried to open it, just as 
 surely was he bound to cut his ringer on the 
 tin cap. He would look at it a minute, funny 
 little wrinkles in his chin, then as the blood 
 began to ooze out he would run to his mother 
 and fling his arms around her neck. She would 
 take the big tin dipper from the cedar bucket 
 that always made the water taste as though 
 it had polliwogs in it, pour a cupful over the 
 injured member and bind it up. 
 
 It was wonderful what that dinner basket 
 could hold. You wouldn t think there was 
 enough in it for one hungry man and still a 
 family could always ask in a friend or two. 
 Tucked down against the side was the salt 
 for the radishes, and on the very bottom, 
 bound together with a thread, were the tooth 
 picks. 
 
 Some time or other during the meeting Rick 
 Oody was sure to come staggering down the 
 sidewalk, lurching against the hitch-racks, 
 spreading his fingers out into a stiff fan and 
 righting himself slowly like a ship in distress; 
 stumbling over a loose board and turning to
 
 62 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 mouth awful imprecations on it while the boys 
 in their stiff dusty shoes gathered about him 
 in a speechless open-mouthed swarm. He would 
 reach into his hip pocket and with his ringers 
 gripped around the flask gurgle down its red 
 contents. Then he would send the bottle whirl 
 ing over his shoulder, the lees slewing out until 
 the flask buried itself in the grass. After he 
 had gone the boys would gather around the 
 bottle, looking at it silently, walking around it 
 until some bolder one touched it with his toe 
 when they would all draw back as though it 
 was a striking snake. 
 
 Clem had watched it all for years, and he 
 knew that just as sure as they had a camp- 
 meeting, there was certain to be some old 
 man there with chin beard and no teeth who 
 leaned forward on his cane and chewed. Clem 
 never knew what he chewed, but hour after 
 hour his chin beard would bob up and down, 
 silently, unceasingly. Clem would try to keep 
 his eye off the chewing chin by fastening it 
 on the gilt topped Bible on the platform but
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 63 
 
 in a few minutes it would swing back to the 
 bobbing beard. 
 
 Even on the last night when the Reverend 
 Sadnow was climbing to his climax, when he 
 was stalking back and forth across the plat 
 form, plowing his fingers through his long hair, 
 describing the terrors of the fire everlasting, 
 with snakes coming up andsnappingtheir fangs 
 into you yes, you time after time, and balls 
 of fire rolling up and down you, parting and 
 becoming two every time you tried to claw one 
 off, Clem s eyes would be drawn irresistibly 
 to the old man leaning forward with both 
 hands clasped over the top of his cane, his 
 whiskers silently falling and rising. 
 
 Camp-meeting week was the joy of Hulda s 
 life. In the mornings she taught Sunday- 
 school and passed books for the singing. In 
 the evening she plead with sinners. She would 
 rise in her seat, cast her eye back over the 
 crowd until she saw some unsaved creature 
 and then bear down on him. Whenever she 
 arose there was a sudden stirring among the
 
 64 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 sinners at the far end of the tent and often 
 hasty exits. 
 
 When Salvation Night came the last ser 
 mon she was so wrought up that she was 
 ready to save the whole world. As the Rev 
 erend SadnoW leaned over and pounded the 
 Bible, going into a detailed description of the 
 lake of fire and the picket of fangs, Hulda 
 swung her black-bordered palm leaf fan faster 
 and faster. When he stepped down off the 
 platform and raised his arms over his head 
 inviting sinners to come up and save them 
 selves from a sulphurous eternity, Hulda arose 
 and surveyed the audience, seeking for a soul 
 without the pale. 
 
 Her eyes wandered until they fastened them 
 selves on a figure propped limply against a 
 tent pole. Lifting her skirt with the thumb 
 and forefinger of a black cotton-gloved hand, 
 she stepped over the pine plank that supported 
 the seats and went rustling down the aisle. 
 Those on the ends of the seats held their 
 breath and huddled over till she passed, turn-
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 65 
 
 ing their faces with advertised relief as she 
 swept by the danger zone. 
 
 "Are you ready to surrender your heart, 
 Brother Oody?" she asked in a voice to be 
 heard over the whole auditorium. 
 
 "Who, me?" he asked thickly. 
 
 "Yes, Brother Oody. Do you want to spend 
 an eternity in a lake of living fire?" 
 
 His eyes ran across the seats and climbed up 
 into the face of an old crony. If he gave in 
 he would be laughed at ; he must not be laughed 
 at. "I ain t afraid," he answered defiantly. 
 "I m a reg lar muskrat." His eyes leaped back 
 to the crony and came away satisfied. 
 
 Hulda laid her hand on his arm, her voice 
 rising. "Rick Oody, if there s anybody in all 
 Curryville that needs the cleansing power of 
 salvation it s you. Instead of me coming after 
 you, you ought to be coming down the aisle 
 on your knees praying for forgiveness." She 
 gave his arm a tug and Rick wavered as if 
 about to pitch forward. "You re worse than 
 a muskrat you re "
 
 66 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Every eye in the tent was fastened on the 
 two. The Reverend Sadnow had slowly low 
 ered his arms and had come part way down 
 the aisle as if to interfere, and Judge Wood- 
 bridge had half risen. Suddenly Gem ap 
 peared at her side. 
 
 "Come on away, Hulda," he whispered. 
 "He s drunk. He don t know what he s say 
 ing." 
 
 Hulda s body pivoted at her waist. "Clem 
 Pointer," she began, the thin trembling thread 
 of her voice rising higher, "don t you interfere 
 with the work of the Lord. Just because you 
 don t belong you needn t be trying to keep your 
 fellowman from being saved." 
 
 "Amen, amen, Sister Pointer," called out 
 the Reverend Sadnow. 
 
 "But, Hulda, he ain t himself" 
 
 "Go preach ye the gospel to every living 
 creature. Ain t he living? Go back to your 
 seat, Clem Pointer. I know what I m doing." 
 She put her hand on his shoulder and gave him 
 a shove. Humbled, the eyes of the entire audi 
 ence on him, Clem hesitated a moment, then
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 67 
 
 stumbled back to his seat. Every nerve in his 
 body was throbbing; he kept his eyes fixed on 
 the ground. Only a few days before he had 
 thought himself a hero and now he was humili 
 ated before all Curryville. 
 
 Hulda gave Rick s sleeve a tug and started 
 down the aisle, chanting, "Salvation s free, sal 
 vation s free, hallelujah." 
 
 Rick held back, his heels planted. "I don t 
 care what you re givin away I don t want 
 any of it" 
 
 Hulda dropped his arm and he went sprawl 
 ing. She towered over him as he looked up 
 from his hands and knees. "You ain t fit to 
 live in this town," biting off the words one at 
 a time. "And don t you ever be coming around 
 my house again for work." But Rick didn t 
 hear ; he was crawling for cover with Hulda at 
 his heels. "Who s going to go to your funeral? 
 Did you ever think of that?" 
 
 No greater stigma could hang over the 
 memory of a person, according to Hulda, than 
 to go out of the world attended only by a 
 small band of appreciative mourners.
 
 68 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 As immediate safety was more to be sought 
 than parting glory, Rick darted outside with 
 fine disregard for a well-attended funeral. 
 
 Hulda, with her chm held high, walked 
 back to her seat, raised her skirt between black 
 thumb and finger, and picked up her mourning 
 palm leaf. 
 
 "Glory be to hallelujah !" shouted the Rever 
 end Sadnow, slapping his hands. "Everybody 
 stand and sing while the repentant sinners seek 
 the altar." 
 
 As old Ninety-Eight, led by Gertie Knabb, 
 rolled up, Clem tried to lift his foot over the 
 seat to slip away from his disgrace. His sis 
 ter caught him by the sleeve. "Stay here 
 the preacher s coming home with us to-night !" 
 
 Clem sank back, his hands slipping help 
 lessly into his lap. He always felt guilty when 
 Reverend Sadnow fastened his big accusing 
 eyes on him. Now to have him brought home 
 and kept, he had no idea how long, was more 
 than he could stand. Clem raised his eyes and 
 shuddered at sight of the tall gaunt figure. 
 
 The Reverend Sadnow had high square
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 69 
 
 shoulders; from them hung yards of black 
 clerical cloth. His face was a long mirror of 
 sadness. The Reverend Sadnow had a habit of 
 stuffing each hand up the sleeve of the other 
 arm and standing apparently handless, like a 
 great crippled raven. Clem could not look at 
 him without feeling the misery of the world 
 creeping over him. 
 
 The first out of the choir to welcome the 
 reborn into their new life was Doctor Fordyce. 
 His words were highly polished and patently 
 hollow. Even as he spoke his eyes were on 
 Miss Mary Mendenhall. 
 
 After everybody had shaken hands with the 
 new refugees from this world of sin the meet 
 ing broke up. The lanterns cast long figures 
 on the grounds, opening and shutting with each 
 step like great pairs of scissors. One pair of 
 scissors that wabbled uncertainly, cutting the 
 night in grotesque patterns, mumbled, "I ain t 
 goin to have any funeral. They can jes take 
 me down to the Bend and shovel in the dirt." 
 
 The camp-meeting was over. 
 
 Slowly Hulda, Clem and the clergyman took
 
 70 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 their way home. Reverend Sadnow hung one 
 loose leg over the other, pushed his hands out 
 of sight and shoved down on his spine. For an 
 hour he droned out his beliefs on everything 
 from infant baptism to the burning bush, 
 Hulda sitting forward on her chair absorbing 
 every word ; then he drew a long thin hand out 
 of its black poke and reached for the Bible. 
 After he had finished the chapter, Hulda 
 glanced warningly at Clem, and Clem slowly 
 slid to his knees. When the blanket blessing 
 was finished Clem rose unsteadily and lighted 
 the lamp for the guest to use in the spare bed 
 room. 
 
 "I hope you ll excuse the appearance of 
 your room to-night, Brother Sadnow," began 
 Hulda. "I ve been away all this week of course 
 and was so rushed last week that I couldn t 
 get it fixed up. I know it ain t fit to sleep in, 
 but you ll just have to excuse me this time." 
 This was Hulda s specialty. The room was at 
 spotless as new snow; to hear her talk you 
 would think that it was better than sleeping in 
 husks only because there was a pillow, but
 
 are after me," screamed the shrunken face
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 71 
 
 in truth every pin in the heart-shaped 
 cushion on the bureau was stuck in the saw 
 dust exactly the same distance. 
 
 After the door had closed on the guest, 
 Hulda sat down across the table from Clem. 
 She looked at him sadly for several minutes; 
 twice she cleared her throat; each time Clem 
 stiffened. He ran his finger up and down the 
 yellow crack in the table top, preparing his 
 defense. 
 
 "Clem," she said at last, choosing her words 
 with a deliberation that Clem knew too well, 
 "I want to have a talk with you. You know 
 what it s about. When I was trying to do 
 something for the Lord to-night why did you 
 act that way before the whole meeting?" 
 
 Clem parted his lips in explanation, but be 
 fore a word could form, there was a wild rat 
 tle of fingers against the door and a gaunt 
 white-robed figure burst into the room. Its 
 hair was tousled and below the nightgown two 
 thin bare ankles darted in and out. 
 
 "Robbers are after me," screamed the 
 shrunken face. "I heard them in the room and
 
 72 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 jumped out of bed and wrestled with one of 
 them, but he got away. He squealed like a pig." 
 
 Although he didn t say so one could see that 
 the Reverend Sadnow had had a severe hand- 
 to-hand struggle with the robbers, and that it 
 was only by rare presence of mind that he es 
 caped. If there had been only one robber he 
 would have captured him of course, but with 
 the odds against him he had to give up. Even 
 though his face seemed strangely shriveled and 
 his voice tagged with a certain whistling 
 sound, Hulda looked at him in admiration. 
 
 When Clem reached for the lamp there was 
 a near danger. After all Clem was her brother. 
 "Don t risk your life," begged Hulda, catch 
 ing Clem by the arm. "They d as soon kill 
 you as to look at you. " 
 
 She rushed to the pantry and came back in a 
 moment with a rusted revolver. "Now be care 
 ful, Clem. You remember old Mr. Shultz, who 
 was shot right on our street one night and 
 killed." 
 
 A pace behind her brother she came with 
 the light, shading her eyes with her free hand.
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 73 
 
 Clem pushed open the door and peered around. 
 Draped over the back of a chair was the cler 
 ical black coat and wadded ( up on the seat 
 were the trousers. An overturned plush chair 
 and a stereoscope knocked off the center table 
 blazed the guest s hasty exit. But there was 
 no one in the room. 
 
 Something stirred on top of the headboard 
 and all eyes swung toward it. There sat Gari 
 baldi. In one paw he clutched a set of false 
 teeth ! 
 
 A smile spread over Clem s face, but when 
 Hulda saw the maker of the mischief she 
 caught the little creature by the neck and gave 
 it a resounding slap. It squealed pitifully and 
 its legs began to stiffen. With set lips she 
 marched to the door and flung it headlong 
 into the yard. As it struck the ground it gave 
 a squeak like the response a toy dog makes 
 when squeezed. It did not stir and Clem s 
 heart sank. 
 
 Slowly Hulda sat down in her chair in the 
 sitting-room, propped her elbows on the mar 
 ble top and faced Clem. Long and steadily
 
 74 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 she bored him through ; her lips parted slowly, 
 like tearing wet paper. 
 
 "Clem, I don t understand you. I have 
 prayed for you time and time again and set 
 you a good example but you don t seem to 
 improve any." Her hand went under the 
 table and came up with the leather Bible, worn 
 and frayed at the corners. Hulda closed her 
 eyes and her lips moved. She was asking for 
 higher guidance in finding a chapter that 
 would impress Clem with his sins. The chap 
 ter should contain something that would leap 
 out and bring wayward Clem to his knees. 
 She opened the book and pointed to a chapter. 
 
 "The Lord has selected this chapter and 
 may He fill your heart with compunction." 
 
 It was Numbers and told of the journeys 
 of the children of Israel; how they removed 
 from Mount Shapher and encamped in Hara- 
 dah; how they removed from Haradah and 
 pitched in Makheloth; how they removed 
 from Makheloth and encamped at Tahath, 
 following them patiently from Succoth into 
 the plains of Moab, stumbling after them
 
 SALVATION NIGHT 75 
 
 whether they encamped in easily pronounced 
 Hor or pitched their tents in different Kehe- 
 lathah. 
 
 There wasn t very much about the chapter 
 to leap out and bring Clem to his wayward 
 knees. He felt sorry for the poor wandering 
 Israelites, but he could not see just why be 
 cause the nomadic children had encamped in 
 Makheloth he should be held responsible for 
 Garibaldi getting Reverend Sadnow s teeth and 
 bringing embarrassment to Curryville. 
 
 Hulda s chin was in her hands and her eyes 
 were still boring into him. The wet paper 
 tore again: 
 
 "I hope you will take this chapter to heart 
 and pray over it. You stirred me up so to 
 night that I know I will not be able to sleep. 
 How will I look in the morning when Brother 
 Sadnow comes in? I want you to go down 
 to the drug store and get me some sleeping 
 powders. The yellow ones ain t such a taste. 
 Think of this chapter every step of the way. 
 In the morning Brother Sadnow will pray 
 with you."
 
 7_6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 As Clem laced his shoes Hulda s eyes 
 watched him sternly; they followed him to 
 his hat accusingly. 
 
 The door cut off the parallelogram of light 
 and Clem felt his way down the steps. In 
 a choking whisper he called out: "Garibaldi! 
 Garibaldi!" 
 
 A cricket under a brick was droning away 
 as if so sleepy that it couldn t keep it up much 
 longer; a leaf patted the roof; away at the 
 other end of town a dog mourned a thousand 
 lost ancestors. Down toward the river a 
 homeward bound rig rolled over the bridge, 
 the sound coming up like thunder away at the 
 other end of the world. 
 
 But Garibaldi did not answer. 
 
 Then Clem turned toward the river.
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 NOT EVEN A NOTE 
 
 CLEM kept in the middle of the street 
 where footsteps were lightest, down past 
 the planing mill, and around Diedrich Bend 
 the same road that Rick Oody so often fol 
 lowed on his grim journeys. The Flemmings 
 dog charged him, plowing its feet into the 
 road in order not to bump against him. 
 "Here, King what s the matter? Don t you 
 know me?" King quieted down at the fa 
 miliar voice and in a moment was licking 
 Clem s hand. 
 
 "Garibaldi s dead," mumbled Clem. "Killed! 
 He screeched like a rabbit. Don t you inter 
 fere with the work of the Lord. You needn t 
 be tryin to keep your fellowman from being 
 saved. No, he ain t going to pray with me 
 in the morning." 
 
 77
 
 8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 He paused. He was before the old Kemp 
 house. The carpenters and plasterers had 
 done their work. It was closed, and cold in 
 the moonlight. 
 
 "Not even a note," he mumbled bitterly, 
 then hurried toward the river. 
 
 The Hinkson sprawled across the landscape, 
 twisting sluggishly in and out among the trees. 
 A flat-bottomed skiff tugged peacefully at its 
 rope ; a fish-pole, sticking in the mud, bent list 
 lessly out over the moving mirror. 
 
 For several minutes Clem stood in contem 
 plation, when the flutter of a restless night- 
 hawk brought him back to himself. Swinging 
 over the wire fence, he strode to a spot where 
 the sand and loam mixed to an ashy gray, 
 and pulled off his coat. Putting his hand into 
 a pocket of the coat he tore it open, then 
 ripped the collar. Back and forth he stepped 
 tramping up the ground. He threw off his 
 hat and trampled it into the earth with his 
 heel. He tugged at his suspender and threw 
 the loose piece to one side. He started back
 
 NOT EVEN A NOTE 79 
 
 and at the fence stopped to survey his work. 
 No one could doubt that a final struggle had 
 taken place on the silent bank. 
 
 As he was getting over the fence his foot 
 slipped and down his hand came on the wire. 
 A ragged gash lay white an instant, then filled 
 with red. He mumbled thick words and was 
 on the point of turning back to the river to 
 bathe the wound when he paused. Looking 
 around he gathered up a heavy stick, clasped it 
 with his bleeding hand and pulling a few hairs 
 from his head imbedded them with his thumb 
 nail. Then he flung the stick into the woods. 
 Stooping he held the wounded finger in the 
 stream a moment and swung back over the 
 fence. 
 
 He retraced his steps up the road and when 
 King came running out Clem met him with 
 soft encouraging words. "I m going to have 
 a few days of comfort in my life," he whis 
 pered to King, glad of an opportunity to talk. 
 "I ain t ever had a day to myself in my life 
 been bossed around since I had pockets.
 
 8o WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 The only fun I ever have s when I m alone 
 down at the fire house. She didn t thank me 
 not even a note!" 
 
 Keeping to the side of the road, in the 
 grass, that his footprints might not show, he 
 hurried back to town. One light was flickering 
 in the Owl Drug Store and Clem knew that the 
 clerk was sleeping peacefully behind the pre 
 scription mirror. 
 
 Clem crept around to the rear of the Metho 
 dist church, of which he was caretaker, and 
 fitted his key to the basement door. Pushing 
 it open, he went in and drew a match across 
 the seat of his trousers; shading it he took 
 down an oil lamp from its shelf on the wall 
 and touched the wick. In the corner was a 
 high-posted wooden bed; piled on the window 
 shelves were heaps of books and stacked in the 
 corner rows of leaflets and Sunday-school les 
 sons, dusty and thumbed. 
 
 There was enough reading there to last him 
 a month and no doubt a lot of it was about 
 heroes. 
 
 Climbing out of his clothes he piled into
 
 NOT EVEN A NOTE 81 
 
 bed, sighing with contentment and luxury. 
 For the first time in his life he wouldn t have 
 anybody to rout him out until he felt good 
 and ready. Could there be any greater pleas 
 ure in the world? 
 
 "I guess they ll be surprised to-morrow 
 when I don t show up," he said, nesting his 
 ear into a comfortable pillow. It didn t occur 
 to him that he himself might be surprised.
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 
 
 WHILE Clem, a few days later, was lost 
 in the delicious depths of a book, lean 
 ing back in laziness and luxury, a long 
 booo oom rolled up from the river. But he 
 paid no attention to it. 
 
 With his face to the colored glass of the 
 window he could hear numbers of people 
 hurrying by, moving much faster than the 
 average citizen in Curryville was accustomed 
 to move. But still he thought nothing of it. 
 
 When night came he would slip back to his 
 own home and help himself to provisions. On 
 the second of these expeditions, as he was 
 reaching in the bread-box, he heard a stir in 
 the front room. He shrank back into the cor 
 ner and pulled the tea-towel rack before his 
 face. 
 
 "I tell you, Mrs. Kiggins, I know this place 
 82
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 83 
 
 is haunted. I know his spirit s come back. 
 That bottle of elderberry wine Sister Knabb 
 gave me last spring when I had the grip 
 disappeared night before last and you know 
 how much Clem loved elderberry. Hss-h I 
 believe his spirit s here now! I can always 
 tell when Clem s around by his tracks." 
 
 "Where do you think he it is?" asked 
 Mrs. Kiggins, a bit awed. 
 
 "In the pantry that s where he d natural 
 ly be." 
 
 "I m goin right in there and see!" ex 
 claimed Mrs. Kiggins determinedly. 
 
 "Don t you do it," cried Hulda, seizing 
 Mrs. Kiggins by the arm. "It means death 
 to go again spirits. Old Mis Rhodes saw 
 her husband s spirit after he had tumbled down 
 that coal shaft and the next week she fell off 
 the back porch and broke her arm." 
 
 "You ain t sure there is spirits," argued 
 Mrs. Kiggins. 
 
 "Yes, I am. Ain t I been missing bread 
 and jam and cake right along? That s just 
 what Clem s spirit would take!"
 
 84 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "What s that creakin ?" demanded Mrs. 
 Kiggins. 
 
 "I don t hear anything." 
 
 "I think it s breathing," insisted Mrs. Kig 
 gins. "I m going to " 
 
 "Hss-h Mrs. Kiggins, spirits don t breathe. 
 It tain t a good sign, an that very night a 
 big dog bayed under my window." 
 
 "I m goin to make sure 
 
 "Don t you dare, Mrs. Kiggins. This is my 
 house. I ll be the one that ll have to suffer. 
 If Clem loves me enough to come back you 
 hain t goin to scare him away." 
 
 Here the voices ceased, and Clem, bending 
 almost double to keep from making a sound, 
 slipped out and back to the church. He was 
 too nervous to go into its black depths and 
 so he wandered down the street. He won 
 dered how the fire house looked, so cutting 
 across lots he came up behind it. The key 
 was in its accustomed place. When he came 
 around in front he stared in open-mouthed 
 astonishment. Pasted on the front door was 
 a big placard. The head-lines leaped out at
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 85 
 
 him, and with a match cupped in his hand 
 he read the smaller print: 
 
 $1,000 REWARD 
 
 FOR INFORMATION LEADING To THE 
 ARREST AND CONVICTION 
 
 OF THE MURDERER OF 
 CLEMENT LANGDON POINTER 
 He is now at large. Robbery is supposed to 
 be the motive. The deed was committed with 
 a club on Flemming s side of the Hinkson, 
 Sunday night the i8th. 
 
 $500 WILL BE PAID 
 
 for the return of Mr. Pointer s body dead or 
 alive. He was 5 feet, 10 inches; black hair 
 with gray getting into it. Nose small and 
 turned up a bit. Ears big. Eyes blue, and he 
 had a mole on the inside of his left thumb. 
 
 Miss HULDA POINTER, 
 Curryville, Mo. His Sister. 
 
 After his match had flickered out he stood 
 several minutes in dull wonder. He could
 
 86 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 easily imagine how excited the town must be 
 and he understood now that it had not been 
 stumps that were being blasted but that his 
 fellow citizens had been firing over the murky 
 depths of the Hinkson in the hope of raising 
 his body. He would not dare to go back now ; 
 he would be ashamed to show his face and 
 the thought of meeting Hulda made him 
 shiver as though in a draft. He would have 
 to stock his basement room well and not stir 
 till the excitement had blown over. But three 
 days more would be Sunday and then he was 
 certain to be discovered. 
 
 He wandered down toward the railroad 
 station, turning his trouble over and over in 
 his mind. A blaze of light swung around a 
 curve and danced on the side of the little red 
 station; in a moment the midnight passenger 
 train jarred to a standstill. Only two persons 
 got off; alighting, they ran to the baggage 
 coach ahead and backed a truck up alongside 
 the door. Two dogs leashed together were 
 helped down. The animals were long and thin 
 and had big heads with wide ears flapping
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 87 
 
 down until they almost met under their jaws. 
 The faces were as wrinkled and weazened as 
 an old woman s. They tugged at their leashes 
 impatiently, bobbing their heads up and down. 
 
 Then suddenly it burst over Clem that they 
 were bloodhounds and that one of the men 
 was the sheriff from the county seat and the 
 stranger was the animals keeper. They had 
 come after him. 
 
 The conductor s lantern cut two vertical 
 lines; the train groaned and in a minute its 
 rear lights were winking around a curve. 
 
 The dogs tugged the men up the street, 
 their heads tilting up and down like the heads 
 of toy turtles mounted in a glass case so that 
 the slightest jar would send them bobbing. 
 
 The agent threw the safety light and turned 
 back to his cot. 
 
 Clem sat down on the edge of the platform. 
 He didn t dare go back and be the laughing 
 stock of the whole town. And what would 
 Hulda say? What wouldn t she say? He 
 sat up with an idea: in an hour a freight 
 would be along. All his life he had longed
 
 88 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 to see the world to be out where people were 
 doing things, where there were heroes and 
 now was his chance. He would take the 
 freight and his chance. 
 
 When the cyclop s eye of the train swung 
 into sight Clem skipped across the track and 
 dropped behind the siding. The great living 
 mass chugged, roared and screamed to a stand 
 still; the fireman ran up the ladder of the ten 
 der like a monkey and swung the iron lip of 
 the water tank around. 
 
 A lone figure, bleared by the shadow of a 
 box-car, ran along the track till it came to an 
 open door, rested its feet on the brace rods 
 and swung into the dark mouth of the car. 
 
 The train lurched forward, the gray outlines 
 of the stock-yards flashed by and the freight 
 was under way. Clem held his breath with 
 the recklessness of it, watching the black 
 kaleidoscope unroll before him. 
 
 Something in the corner stirred. Clem gave 
 a swift glance out as if calculating the possi 
 bilities, then drew into the shadow. The ob 
 ject crawled forward and Clem flattened
 
 8 9 
 
 against the wall. He stared with all his eyes 
 into the darkness; one moment it looked tall 
 and hairy and the next as though it was stick 
 ing close to the floor and crawling up on him. 
 Even with his back to the wall and his heels 
 braced it seemed to him as if any moment he 
 might be rolled into the arms of the creature. 
 Maybe, after all, the thing hadn t seen him, 
 and he could jump off at the next stop and get 
 away. Then something away up in the middle 
 of his head began to pull and twitch and he 
 felt his ribs rising. He clapped his finger to 
 his upper lip and mashed it against his teeth 
 but his ribs kept rising. Then his ribs snapped 
 back into place with a loud "kerchoo I" 
 
 "It s awfully dusty in here," said a voice 
 out of the darkness. "It makes me do that, 
 too!" 
 
 Clem pushed his shoulders against the wall 
 again, his heart pounding wildly, but made no 
 answer. 
 
 "Which way you goin , bo?" 
 
 "Down the line." 
 
 "Got aside-kick?"
 
 90 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem hesitated, his heart beating high while 
 the car rattled and pitched. "It tain t just 
 exactly clear what you re driving at." 
 
 "Are you traveling alone?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Been havin any trouble with the bulls?" 
 
 "I I live in the city in Curryville. I 
 guess you ve heard of it. It s got the finest 
 I. O. O. F. hall in this part of the state." 
 
 "That s where they ve got a froth factory 
 called Joe s Place, ain t it? Worst booze in 
 the state one drink and you ll fight your 
 grandmother; two and she can sew you up in 
 a sheet and whale you with a mop handle!" 
 
 The figure slid toward Clem: "Got a glim?" 
 
 "I guess I don t hear very well with this 
 racket goin on. I didn t ketch what you 
 said." 
 
 "Got a match?" 
 
 "Glad to commodate," returned Clem, set 
 ting one elbow into the floor like a brace-pole 
 and burrowing a hand into his crumpled-up 
 trousers pocket. "It s broke in two, but I 
 guess it ll do business."
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 91 
 
 Their fingers fumbled in the dark and in a 
 moment a spitting line of light leaped from a 
 heavy shoe-sole. Two thick hands cupped it 
 and fitted it into the thick black bowl. The 
 flame dipped out of sight,, leaped up victorious 
 ly and was sucked out of sight again. Two 
 fat stubbled cheeks belched out a funnel of 
 smoke and melted into the background. A 
 finger and thumb growing out of the darkness 
 lifted the charred splinter, which turned its 
 one angry eye accusingly around as if to find 
 who had blotted out its life, and smeared it 
 into the floor. All was blackness again. 
 
 "I meant the brakies. They re gettin 
 meaner and meaner on this road and every 
 time they catch a fellow he s got to cough 
 up or they ll shine his block. There s one bull 
 on this line I m goin to get and get good 
 and hard. A pal of mine was ridin the blind 
 when this bull piked him; Rudy coughed up 
 every cent he had and just before he got to the 
 end of the division the bull come again. Rudy 
 told him he d passed over every red he had. 
 With that the brakie smashed him in the face
 
 92 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 with his lantern, and when he come to his 
 knees, kicked him off, jowls over janders, like 
 a wet blanket. I ve got his number and some 
 night when we re goin good there ll be a sick 
 ening thud and next mornin some section 
 boss ll find a few stray joints and a loose leg 
 scattered along the right of way. There was 
 nuthin Rudy wouldn t do for a pal. Once 
 when he was lyin in a sand-house and me sick 
 he climbed in the back window of the station 
 agent s house, locked his wife in the cellar 
 her hollerin down brakes and snatched a 
 plate of soup for me just because I had fever 
 in the head. You d loved Rudy." 
 
 "You mean that a brakeman kicked Mr. 
 Rudy off when the train was runnin and killed 
 him?" 
 
 "I guess that s the way a language profes- 
 sor d put it." 
 
 "Do do they often kick people off like 
 that?" 
 
 "Every night." 
 
 Clem edged toward the corner. 
 
 The car roared and rattled, pitched and
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 93 
 
 plunged for half an hour without a word be 
 ing spoken. Clem shuddered, turning over in 
 his mind what would happen if one of the 
 train crew came upon them. He couldn t go 
 back to Curryville with those sad-eyed dogs 
 there and face Hulda and everybody to laugh 
 at him. In the car with his thick-shouldered 
 companion was like being in a dark room with 
 an unknown animal. 
 
 "Been on the road long?" boomed a voice 
 out of the blackness. 
 
 "No!" 
 
 "I thought you hadn t the way you got in 
 with your elbows. What s your line?" 
 
 "I don t follow you." 
 
 "How do you get the kale?" 
 
 Clem studied for a minute. "Are you an 
 American?" 
 
 The man in the darkness laughed, his voice 
 climbing over the rattle of the trucks. "You re 
 all right, bo. I mean how do you get your 
 cash?" 
 
 Clem nervously drew up his hand to his 
 wallet. Plainly the stranger was trying to
 
 94 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 find if he had any. "I just joined the road 
 to-night." 
 
 "You mean that when you crawled up in 
 this car like a sick cow that it was your first 
 time out?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Been hitting the dirt?" asked the other 
 quickly, in amazement. 
 
 "You ve got the best of me, stranger." 
 
 "I mean, have you been goin the country 
 roads?" 
 
 "No, I just got on to-night." 
 
 The other blew through his nostrils in won 
 der and the very whistle of it asked what in 
 the world could a person be doing all his life 
 if he hadn t been traveling either by railroad 
 or across the country? Suddenly he turned 
 on Clem as if the whole explanation had just 
 dawned on him. "You ain t cracked anything, 
 have you?" he asked anxiously. 
 
 "I guess I m purty dumb, but about half of 
 your words don t seem to be where they be 
 long."
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 95 
 
 "I mean, you ain t in the soap and blanket 
 business, are you?" 
 
 "No, I m chief of the fire department," 
 Clem explained with pardonable pride. 
 
 The man in the dark sighed as though a 
 great weight had been taken off his mind and 
 added as if to himself: "You ain t ever cracked 
 a bank or you d get me. Say, pardner, why 
 don t you go home? There ain t anything in 
 railroadin ." 
 
 "I couldn t do that," exclaimed Clem quick 
 ly. "I ain t got any home any more." 
 
 "You ain t got any home and ain t goin 
 anywhere," the other took up. "Well, then, 
 you just fall in with me. My name s Hagan 
 Mr. Brassy Hagan but I ve almost forgot the 
 last part myself. I m in the circus business." 
 
 "Oh!" exclaimed Clem with delight. "You 
 don t happen to be an animal trainer, do you? 
 I can t see your clothes!" 
 
 "No, that ain t my department. I m not 
 under the big top. I do missionary work 
 among the hey-rubes. I was a schilliber
 
 96 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 stake and chain wagon for a while, but tap- 
 pin stakes ain t no occupation for a gentleman 
 so I cut out to where the big money was. I m 
 in the optical business handling the elusive 
 pea, proving that the hand is quicker than the 
 eye. My great call in life is to prove to the 
 tall grass gents that they can t believe all they 
 see, by shifting a well-trained pea from one 
 English walnut to another and chargin them 
 for it." 
 
 "I don t know s I ever met anybody with 
 that occupation before," returned Clem. 
 
 Brassy laughed. 
 
 "I ve got a good thriving business. This 
 last town, I was in the midst of my lesson 
 proving that the hand is quicker than the eye 
 when a gentleman come up and took treat 
 ment. After he had found that his eye had 
 deceived him he pulled back his coat and there 
 on his suspender was a silver plate with en- 
 gravin on it and he insisted that your pro 
 fessor come down and be the guest of the city. 
 I couldn t excuse myself and make a duck 
 until the rest of the circus was gone six hours.
 
 THE SPIRIT IN THE PANTRY 97 
 
 You ought to be a good capper; I tell you 
 what I ll do I ll take you into partnership. 
 How d you like that?" 
 
 "Then I d be a member of the circus com 
 pany?" asked Clem eagerly. 
 
 "Sure just as much as I am." 
 
 "I ll do it," cried Clem, edging over toward 
 Brassy. "I ve allus wanted to travel with a 
 circus. It ll be a great education to me." 
 
 "It sure will," agreed Brassy, without ex 
 plaining just what he meant. 
 
 A long lonesome whistle rolled out and the 
 train began to slacken. 
 
 "We pile off here," said Brassy. "The cir 
 cus train ll still be loadin but we can slip 
 into the sleepin -car without anybody gettin 
 wise and hit the hay for a spell." 
 
 The car pitched forward and sullenly set 
 tled back like a live thing. Brassy leaped out 
 on the opposite side from the station and mo 
 tioned Clem to follow.
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 
 
 THE sleeping-car of the circus was on a 
 siding when Brassy led Clem up and 
 waved him in. An oil lamp with a smoky 
 reflector behind it was clinging to the wall, 
 while on each side of the aisle were rows and 
 rows of cots, one above the other, like great 
 pie shelves. 
 
 Brassy went down the aisle slapping the 
 curtains. "Here s an empty one," he called. 
 "Pile in you ll know when to get up all 
 right!" 
 
 Turning aside, Brassy worked a moment at 
 his collar, leaned over and tugged his shirt 
 off over his head and was soon out of sight. 
 
 Up and down the car rose gurgles and 
 groans, spurting up and dying away, like 
 sound geysers. Shirts, dirty and rumpled, 
 98
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 99 
 
 drooped dejectedly on hooks. Fastening one 
 tired knee over the other Clem unlaced his 
 shoes and climbed on to one of the shelves. 
 
 It seemed to him that his ear had scarcely 
 flattened on the pillow before there was a 
 wreck, or at least a storm at sea. A wild 
 hammering filled the car as if some destructive 
 soul was trying to pull it to pieces before its 
 occupants could possibly scramble into their 
 clothes. Clem thrust his head out and saw 
 one of the helpers pounding with a heavy 
 stick a sheet of iron fastened to the wall. Then 
 he understood that it was the call to breakfast. 
 
 Clem tumbled into his clothes in a minute 
 and was outside before another head had ap 
 peared. Slowly the men came out, pulling 
 themselves into their jumpers and plowing 
 their knuckles into their eyes. 
 
 The train was on a spur waiting to be un 
 loaded. Clem walked its full length. Every 
 where was the peculiar smell of the circus. 
 Some of the animals were contentedly chew 
 ing their food while others tramped restlessly 
 back and forth.
 
 ioo WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Already boys and men were gathering to see 
 the unloading, much brighter-eyed than the 
 grumbling circus helpers. The heavier animals 
 had been taken off and the schillibers were 
 unloading the lighter ones when Brassy ap 
 peared, a cap pulled over his eyes and his 
 cheeks raggeder than ever. 
 
 "Mornin ," he greeted shortly, and jerked 
 his head for Clem to follow. 
 
 Brassy tramped down the line of cars in 
 silence, drawing up before the supply car 
 where three or four sleepy hands were list 
 lessly tugging at rolls of canvas. Brassy laid 
 hold and motioned Clem to a corner. The 
 canvas and stakes were thrown on to truck 
 wagons and carted to the show grounds. 
 
 "Better stick pretty clost to me till I speak 
 to the colonel, " said Brassy briefly. 
 
 When the stakes were laid out for the din 
 ing tent, the boss of the chain and stake gang 
 eyed Clem suspiciously, then asked, "Want to 
 try your hand at the sledge?" 
 
 Clem willingly picked up the sledge and 
 taking turn about with a driver soon drove
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 101 
 
 the stake to the notch. The boss nodded with 
 approval. 
 
 After the tent was up cross-pieces were 
 driven and the table made. It was not until 
 late that breakfast was ready, the men climb 
 ing over the seats and dropping down on the 
 table with their elbows. Brassy drew Clem 
 in beside him and the two ate in silence. In 
 the light of day Brassy looked much older 
 than Clem had first thought him to be. 
 
 When they were getting ready for the 
 grand, glittering and gorgeous free street pa 
 rade quoting from a poster Clem couldn t 
 help noticing that the grandness was getting 
 pretty shabby and that El Shiek the widely 
 heralded king of camels was decidedly moth 
 eaten in places and had bad twinges of rheu 
 matism. Leo, also a royal ruler in his realm, 
 was much more peaceably inclined than he had 
 been when the artist painted his portrait on the 
 outside of the wagon showing him standing on 
 a knoll, one foot slightly raised and a forbid 
 ding snarl on his tightly curled lips. To see 
 Rose, queen among pachyderms, obediently
 
 102 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 pushing heavy wagons about, a tired expres 
 sion around her eyes, made one wish that they 
 wouldn t have a grand, glittering and gor 
 geous parade this morning, but instead would 
 give the animals a half holiday. 
 
 The band struck up and the wagons began 
 to fall in line. Clem started toward the source 
 of the music but bumped into a stout man. 
 The individual was dressed in a long frock 
 coat and peeping out from inside as though 
 ashamed of itself was a flaming red waistcoat, 
 while a black string tie fluttered its ends in the 
 breeze as if to attract the eye away from the 
 apoplexy of the waistcoat. Under the wide 
 sombrero and in spite of the shaven cheeks 
 Clem at last recognized his partner of the 
 freight car. 
 
 "Puttin on the furniture for company," re 
 turned Brassy to Clem s puzzled look. "This 
 is our busy day. I ve spoke to the colonel 
 and fixed everything up. The pickin s ought 
 to be good to-day." 
 
 It was not just exactly clear to Clem who 
 that mysterious individual was whom Brassy
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 103 
 
 referred to so familiarly with his martial title, 
 nor did he know just what the pickings were, 
 but his satisfaction at being a member of a 
 circus troupe kept the whetstone off his curi 
 osity. 
 
 "Yes," agreed Clem, "they ought. I don t 
 know as I ever saw a finer day for em." 
 
 One of the animal trainers in his spangles, 
 rushing by to catch up with the parade, called 
 out to Brassy: "It s kind of late for straw 
 berry shortcake, ain t it?" 
 
 Brassy, with his thumbs stuffed tightly in 
 under his belt as if he could never get them 
 out, waved his elbow and smiled. 
 
 "What does he mean?" asked Clem. 
 
 "Oh, that s just some of their talk. When 
 this parade gets back we ll go to work." 
 
 "I guess I m pretty slow, but what am I to 
 do, Mr. Hagan?" 
 
 This was just the chance for Brassy. He 
 lived and flourished on words. He could 
 juggle them about with the ease and deftness 
 of a Japanese acrobat handling a barrel with 
 his feet.
 
 104 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "After a lot of trouble and schemin I have 
 at last succeeded in having you made my first 
 understudy. I didn t know whether I was go 
 ing to be able to put it over at first, but at last 
 I brought the colonel around to my way of 
 thinking and I am happy to tell you that you 
 are now a qualified member of this famous 
 circus troupe chief assistant to Professor Ha- 
 gan, Ophthalmologist and Manipulator of the 
 Moving Shells. I am carried along by this 
 educational organization to enlighten the 
 minds of the great mass of people who 
 have more sinkers than sense and who do not 
 believe that the movements of the hand are 
 quicker than the images thrown on the retina 
 of our organ of sight. To prove this I as 
 semble three shells of the English walnut va 
 riety, place under one of them a single ma 
 tured specimen of one of our commonest gar 
 den products the homely pea shift the shells 
 rapidly with first one hand and then the other 
 and call upon the spectators to point out which 
 one of the three shells shelters the productive
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 105 
 
 pellet. After they have declared their certainty 
 as to which houses the product of the pod, I ask 
 them to back their judgment by something 
 that goes over the counter, and after they have 
 complied I raise the shell. Rarely and after 
 due reflection I might say never does the 
 shell designated by them cover the object of 
 the search. To teach them humility, respect 
 for the judgment of others and a lesson not 
 to make the same mistake when the next cir 
 cus conies to town, I take the long green and 
 wish them a Merry Christmas and a Happy 
 New Year." 
 
 Clem blinked hazily for a moment. "Then 
 the man at the door takes the tickets, does he ?" 
 
 Brassy laughed. "Yes. Everybody takes 
 all they can get. As soon as the parade s over 
 we ll stoke up." 
 
 In a few minutes the tra-boom, tra-boom of 
 the drum, sounding like thunder over on the 
 other side of the river, came rolling in and 
 as the head of the line swung into the grounds 
 the gilded wagon boomed out a final swing-
 
 io6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 ing selection. A great crowd of boys and 
 men boys first and seasoning off with men 
 flooded in on the heels of the parade. 
 
 The clown in his cart was the favorite. 
 When he reached over and scratched the don 
 key with his umbrella and called out, "Whoa, 
 love!" and it kicked up right in his face the 
 boys yelled with glee and took it up: "Whoa, 
 love! Whoa, love!" 
 
 The clown waved a friendly hand to Clem 
 and disappeared into the dressing tent. 
 
 Brassy came up with a handful of bills. 
 "When I get the game goin you come up and 
 unwind your pocketbook and put down a five. 
 You win, wrap her up and blow on. Take 
 this five and after a while when you get a 
 wad and the crowd breaks you can slip em 
 back." 
 
 Clem held the bill by the corner, as though 
 it was a lizard by the tail. His lips parted 
 and his breath went in. "I I you mean " 
 
 "Shortcake so early?" sang out one of the 
 circus men, hurrying by. 
 
 The flood of men and boys, with here and
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 107 
 
 there a white dress flecking the current, rolled 
 on, swirling around the ticket wagons and 
 eddying around the side-shows : the older men 
 with their shirts open at the neck, heavy brass 
 buttons swaying on their collars, and the 
 young men tortured under high celluloids. 
 
 In a bayou of boys Brassy appeared with a 
 folding table. Pulling up his sleeves and 
 pushing back his sombrero, with bills weaving 
 through his fingers, he began: 
 
 "Everybody likes a little innocent fun and 
 amusement. It quickens the pulse, it stimu 
 lates the mind. No two pairs of eyes in the 
 world are alike: your eyes are different from 
 mine and both are unlike those of this here 
 gentleman. Science has never explained this 
 fact, but fact it is. Some eyes see fast some 
 slow. Strange as it may seem, the movements 
 of the human hand are faster than the eye. 
 If you ll gather around closer I ll endeavor 
 to make my meanin clearer. Boys not allowed. 
 No crowding, please. I have here, as all may 
 see, three half walnut shells, and everybody 
 who cares to look may see this pea. I put
 
 io8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 this favorite of the garden under one of the 
 shells, pass my hands over them a few times, 
 moving some, shifting others and who knows 
 where the pea is? The gentleman was right. 
 You tell us, stranger: wrong. Sometimes 
 you hit it sometimes you miss it. Boys, did 
 you ever hear the story about the girl goin 
 into a store to buy a pair of silk stockings? 
 This scientific experiment ll be lots more in 
 teresting if we back up our judgment with 
 some coin of the realm. Whatever you put 
 down I cover. I cover it if it takes the gold 
 out of my teeth and shoes off the baby. We 
 must work fast, boys, for we never know 
 who s comin . The gentleman in the straw 
 hat guessed it right. Keep the chicken feed 
 poultry s goin up. This gentleman says 
 five: watch me carefully watch every move 
 ment. He wins. My loss. Who next? 
 Some people has good eyes some bad. Hands 
 off the table. The quicker you play the 
 quicker you get your money. How much are 
 those silk stockings? she says to the clerk. 
 Ten dollars/ he says. They come pretty
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 109 
 
 high, don t they? she says. Here s your 
 change. Yes, but you re a tall woman, he 
 says. Who gets the next five ? Ever hear the 
 story about the blonde gettin into the wrong 
 berth in the Pullman train?" 
 
 Clem, standing at the edge of the crowd, 
 marveled at the ease and rapidity with which 
 Brassy shifted the shells; watching as care 
 fully as he could, he could not pick the shell 
 that housed the pea. 
 
 Something bumped his elbow. It was the 
 clown. 
 
 "He s there with the bull," said the clown, 
 his enameled face spreading. 
 
 "I don t see what becomes of that pea. 
 Sometimes I would bet my old black hat that 
 I knew where it was, but when Mr. Hagan 
 picks up the shell it tain t there." 
 
 The clown s face parted: "Watch his little 
 finger." 
 
 At first when Clem wove his way into the 
 crowd he could not catch the finger at its 
 work, but on closer scrutiny he saw the hand 
 pass on over the spot where the pea was lying,
 
 no WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the finger seeming to twitch. Then he knew 
 that Brassy had scooped it up. 
 
 A farmer boy with thick browned hands 
 and a big presidential button on his suspend 
 ers unwrapped a five-dollar bill from the cor 
 ner of a newspaper and put his money on the 
 table. Brassy promptly covered it and shifted 
 the shells. 
 
 "Five times on the board. Watch me care 
 fully it s under only one of em. Which one, 
 pardner ?" 
 
 A thick brown finger pointed. A small 
 white finger twitched and the pea rolled out 
 from under another shell, and the bills disap 
 peared into Brassy s pocket. "One man loses 
 the next one lucky. Who gets the next 
 money ?" 
 
 The boy stared with hard unbelieving eyes 
 a moment, then backed out, his face burning. 
 He wandered over the grounds. Lost ! a week s 
 work gone at a puff. He met an older man 
 with the same thick browned hands and drew 
 him aside. The older man listened for several 
 minutes, then reluctantly unwound his wallet
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA in 
 
 and handed the boy a bill. The boy darted 
 away, out of sight of the older man, then 
 melted into the crowd around the folding 
 table. 
 
 "If your eyes fool you once don t let them 
 do it again," Brassy was singing out, hitching 
 his sleeves up higher. "It all depends on how 
 close you watch the shells. Where is it now?" 
 
 A browned finger started to reach out but 
 Clem pushed the hand away, and stepping out 
 of the crowd, motioned to the boy to follow. 
 
 "Son," he said, "I saw you get this money 
 from our father, and it s going just where 
 the other did. You ain t any more show with 
 him than butter in an oven. Ain t you got a 
 girl?" 
 
 The boy reddened, and dropping his eyes, 
 nodded. 
 
 "Hunt her up, get her reserved seats and 
 show her a good time. Then the rows won t 
 be so long to-morrow." 
 
 Big eyes poured their appreciation into 
 Clem s while the tongue held still. Catching 
 sight of a flutter of ribbons, his arms began
 
 ii2 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 to swing, and in a minute the sleeve of a white 
 dress pushed into the hook of his arm. 
 
 A heavy hand fell on Clem s shoulder. He 
 turned to look into the flaming eyes of 
 Brassy. 
 
 "What the hell do you mean? That was 
 my shortcake and you jerked it out of my 
 fingers. Instead of capping people in for me, 
 you re driving them away. What you got to 
 say for yourself?" 
 
 Slowly Clem s enraged face calmed. "I 
 used to walk up one side of a row of corn 
 and come back on the other," he returned de 
 liberately, "and I know how hard that boy s 
 money comes. Besides, your game ain t 
 honest." 
 
 "Who re you to be talking? I didn t see 
 any conductor take up your ticket on that train. 
 Ain t you been acceptin the hospitality of this 
 company and ain t you workin for me ? Ain t 
 you one of us? Your shirt s just as dirty as 
 anybody s. Are you going to ring in for me 
 or not?" 
 
 "Not boys like that."
 
 That was my shortcake
 
 THE PRODUCTIVE PEA 113 
 
 "I ain t any time to talk, but suppose I 
 wanted to holler; the rest of the gang d fall 
 in with me and where d you be? They d 
 frame you, that s what they d do." 
 
 "I m not going to see any boys like that 
 robbed in plain daylight," returned Clem dog 
 gedly. 
 
 "Say, you ain t ever told us why you left 
 Curryville. Do you want us to telegraph back 
 you ve been pinched?" 
 
 Clem stiffened. "No, no. Only don t you 
 see, he was young and I know just what los 
 ing five dollars " 
 
 Brassy dropped his hand on Clem s arm fa 
 miliarly. "Come on, old side-kick, the green s 
 good. If we don t get it somebody else will. 
 I wouldn t took any more from him, anyway. 
 I just pull the wise ones there ain t any- 
 body ll give a sick fellow a five-spot quicker n I 
 will. Here, take these three fives and drift in 
 every new crowd and put down a plaster. 
 You d be the hot chocolate for capping if your 
 collar didn t button behind. Poultice your 
 feet and come on."
 
 H4 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 The table under his arm, Brassy pushed 
 through the crowd. In a minute higher than 
 the calls of the ticket sellers rose a nasal sing 
 song: "Everybody likes a little innocent fun 
 and amusement. It quickens the pulse "
 
 CHAPTER VIII 
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 
 
 MOUTH to mouth the word flew that Clem 
 was gone. Mr. Kiggins ran over to 
 Judge Woodbridge s office, the morning after 
 the disappearance, and with one foot in the 
 window and one eye on the White Front told 
 the judge everything that he had heard, filling 
 in the barren details with what he imagined so 
 that by the time he got through the judge 
 knew a desperate-looking character had been 
 hanging around town that day and was last 
 seen going down Mulberry Street the very 
 street Clem was coming up to get the medi 
 cine. 
 
 "I was thinkin that very night," said Mr. 
 Kiggins, "as I was layin there tumbling and 
 tossing from my shoulder that we hadn t had 
 a murder or catastrophe in this town since
 
 n6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the Talbot shooting, sixteen years ago this 
 spring. My shoulder was paining me like 
 jumping Jerusalem, just like as if somebody 
 had me tied hand and foot and was marking 
 their initials on my shoulder with a red-hot 
 poker, and once in a while they would put in a 
 deep period. I didn t waken none of my fam 
 ily or we might a heard the struggle but 
 laid there without a groan, for I say, what is 
 the good of complaining and tellin your trou 
 bles to other people ? And while I was thinkin* 
 how unfortunate we was, this sad crime was 
 being committed three blocks away. There 
 goes John Jupes now!" 
 
 The city marshal was hurrying down the 
 street as fast as his rheumatism would let him, 
 pinning his badge on the outside of his coat. 
 Mr. Kiggins rushed down the stairs, all but 
 forgetting his lame foot, his wrenched shoul 
 der and his bad heart, locked the White Front 
 and set out after the city officer. He found 
 Reverend Sadnow pacing up and down the 
 front yard, his hands pushed up his sleeves 
 and his hair wildly tumbled.
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 117 
 
 "The work of the Lord," greeted the cleri 
 cal raven. "In the midst of life we are in 
 the midst of death. Flesh is but grass be 
 fore the great Mower." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins listened to the questions Mar 
 shal Jupes put to Hulda and then returned to 
 Reverend Sadnow. "I feel it in my bones," 
 he said, "that it was the tramp we been seeing 
 loafing around here for the last couple days. 
 Let s go down the street and see if we can t 
 find where they met." 
 
 "All flesh is grass and the nations are as a 
 drop in a bucket," letting the words fall in 
 measured beats of sadness. 
 
 The two started down the street. 
 
 "I was awake last night my shoulder hurt 
 ing me again like coals rolling up and down 
 my back, never gettin quite off, like these 
 colored capsules with shot in them that they 
 sell on the streets, rolling them up and down 
 a board. Sometimes I d think the live coals 
 was goin to tumble off but they d turn 
 around again and come thumpin and bouncin* 
 back."
 
 u8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "No one knoweth what a night will bring 
 forth, and life is as a spark that flies up 
 ward!" 
 
 "While I was layin there I heard something 
 like a heavy thud, then a groan, but I laid it 
 to my mind bein delirious and didn t call the 
 family. I never disturb anybody, no difference 
 how bad off I am. Look, look!" exclaimed 
 Mr. Kiggins, dropping on one knee, and point 
 ing to a footprint and a torn bit of cloth. 
 "Here s where the death struggle took place 
 and all Curryville sleepin peacefully all ex 
 cept me, and me the only person to hear it, 
 but sufferin so I thought I was delirious." 
 
 "Life is a candle and death the draught that 
 snuffs it out." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins rushed back to the house and 
 found Marshal Jupes and laid before him his 
 discovery, putting in a few embellishments in 
 the way of what he had heard the night be 
 fore when he was suffering from his shoulder 
 and was half delirious. It had been a terri 
 ble hand-to-hand struggle, Clem fighting des 
 perately, but the tramp was big and burly and
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 119 
 
 had so completely stunned him with the first 
 blow that Clem could not see for the blood. 
 Then all had grown silent, and Mr. Kiggins 
 had tumbled into a fitful slumber in spite of 
 the great pain in his shoulder as if somebody 
 with a pair of steel nippers was pulling out 
 chunks of flesh and tossing them gleefully on 
 the ground. 
 
 Officer Jupes was bending over the foot 
 prints when up rushed Rick Oody. "I found 
 Clem s hat and coat down by the river," he 
 panted, "and a club with hair on it!" 
 
 Rick motioned toward Diedrich Bend, and 
 with one accord all started in that direction. 
 The crowd was augmented at every corner; 
 Mr. Knabb hobbled off toward his buggy-shed 
 and in an incredibly short time was back in 
 his democrat wagon. Drawing up alongside 
 Officer Jupes, he slid over in his seat and the 
 official swung in without the rig stopping. The 
 rural carriers, with their one-horse rigs 
 hitched in front of the post-office waiting for 
 the last mail, followed the crowd enviously, 
 but finally turned back. It was a silent hushed
 
 120 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 crowd, no one raising a voice above a hoarse 
 whisper. 
 
 The men slipped through the barbed- wire 
 fence, each man getting over the best way he 
 could, none offering to hold up the wire for 
 the person behind. Jupes was slightly in ad 
 vance, Rick Oody at his heels and Judge 
 Woodbridge close behind, followed by the 
 others. On the muddied bank, loam spread 
 over the sand like chocolate over ice-cream, 
 lay the torn coat and crumpled hat. Near was 
 a heavy stick, one end plowed into the white 
 and black layers. The river, heavy with rich 
 soil, in some places black, in other channels 
 stirred with yellow clay, lapped lazily on the 
 bank as if maliciously hiding its mystery. A 
 woodpecker pounded on a hollow limb, thrust 
 its yellow head around the tree, turned it to 
 one side as if to expostulate with the invaders, 
 then flapped noisily away. A green and black 
 knot on a log slid into the water and a snake 
 wriggled down the wet bank in a series of 
 "s s" and slipped into the water without cut 
 ting a ripple.
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 121 
 
 "I ain t touched a thing," whispered Rick. 
 "I was comin back from taking Widow 
 Wood s horse down the river when I seen this 
 coat. He used to ride me on his knee " 
 
 Turning over his clay-stained hand he found 
 a clean knuckle and plowed it into his eyes. 
 Reaching across with his left hand, he picked 
 up his right sleeve and wiped his eyes again. 
 " and tickle me in the ribs." 
 
 Marshal Jupes picked up the torn and soiled 
 coat and cap and finally the stick. 
 
 "His hair," he said brokenly. 
 
 Marshal Jupes looked toward the black 
 depths of the river significantly, and Judge 
 Woodbridge nodded assent. 
 
 Placing the hat and coat back in their for 
 mer position, Jupes picked up a stick and drew 
 a circle around them. "Boys," he said, "keep 
 out of this till we get some hounds." 
 
 The men gathered around in a little knot, 
 hardly raising their voices above a whisper. 
 Slowly they all turned until they faced the black 
 and yellow layered river. An arm was raised, 
 pointing down the current where it rolled slug-
 
 122 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 gishly against a dirty yellow bank, and a dozen 
 heads nodded understandingly. The men 
 walked back to the fence, Judge Woodbridge 
 first through and holding up the wire until all 
 had bent under. 
 
 "I ll run to Coop Goodson s and get his 
 seine," volunteered Rick Oody. "I ll cut 
 across and it won t take no time." Rick turned 
 into the timber, bending his head, every few 
 steps, to his right sleeve and reaching across 
 with his left hand. 
 
 As the knot of men rolled up the hill, peace 
 settled over the river: the green and black 
 turtle parted the thick water with a nose like 
 the end of a stick, then crawled awkwardly 
 up on the log again, and the snake slipped 
 out of the water without breaking its surface 
 and settled itself on the warm bank. 
 
 All was peace again except for one thing 
 that moved; it was a figure slipping out of 
 the underbrush. It paused behind a tree a 
 moment, then walked quickly to the coat and 
 picked it up. Next it studied the hat and
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 123 
 
 finally turned to the heavy stick with the heavy 
 hair. 
 
 It was Rencie Rencie Ford. 
 
 Before the men returned with the seine and 
 began dragging the river for the body of Clem 
 Pointer, Rencie had slipped away. However, 
 his younger eyes had searched out something 
 that the others had not seen. He stooped and 
 picked it up: it was a watch-charm a round 
 ball of marble, with North and South Amer 
 ica and the Old World marked off in black. 
 
 Men in overalls and heavy shirts swam in 
 the middle of the river, turn about, diving 
 down and keeping the seine on the bottom, 
 while on the shore walked the older men, drag 
 ging the net. On coming ashore the black mud 
 squirted out of the holes of their shoes. Grimly 
 they searched the river, going back time after 
 time over the lee waters where the current 
 nosed into the yellow bank. Down to the mill 
 they worked their way, shaking out the net 
 at each haul and letting the turtles run sprad 
 dling back into the water.
 
 i2 4 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 When the bloodhounds came they were led 
 to the spot and their noses pushed against the 
 hat and coat. They swung their heads up and 
 down wisely, shook their long ears and ran, 
 a half-dozen times, around the spot in a circle. 
 In their wrinkled faces was the wisdom of all 
 the ages, but time after time they came back 
 to the hat and coat and trotted off with their 
 cold noses to the ground. Once one of them 
 bayed, took a straight line, but stopped and 
 again began making circles. Finally they 
 came back to the hat and coat and stood wag 
 ging their tails and bobbing their heads. 
 
 "The scent s cold," explained the sheriff, 
 and leashed the animals. 
 
 Parties were formed and for days the sur 
 rounding woods were searched and every 
 thicket plumbed, but the mystery was just as 
 far from solution as ever. Mr. Kiggins sup 
 plied the powder from the White Front and 
 shots were fired over the river, but the river 
 flowed on as sluggishly as before. 
 
 Rewards were posted and nearly every day 
 came word that the body had been found, or
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 
 
 that a suspicious character had been picked up 
 in a neighboring county, only for a later word 
 to contradict everything. Slowly Curryville 
 settled back into its routine; that is, all ex 
 cept one. This was Rencie Ford. 
 
 He became more alert and agile than ever. 
 This was the opportunity he had been waiting 
 for all his life; all his studying and piecing 
 together of torn letters could now be utilized. 
 
 Not one word did he say to any one about 
 the two-hemisphere watch-charm. One thing 
 he knew, and that was that it did not belong 
 to Mr. Pointer. The simplest way to unravel 
 the mystery was to find the owner of the 
 charm. But this wasn t simple, not by a great 
 deal. Still no murder mystery was easy to 
 unravel. The first steps were, of course, to 
 find a clue and a motive. He had found the 
 clue, but why should anybody wish to harm 
 Clem Pointer ? He was the most likable man in 
 the world and everybody was his friend. Rob 
 bery was not the motive, for he had no money 
 with him. That anybody should raise a hand 
 against him for his money was ridiculous.
 
 126 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 He went to see Miss Pointer, and swung 
 the conversation around to Clem s early life. 
 "Do you think, Miss Pointer, that at any time 
 Mr. Pointer ever had trouble with anybody 
 who d store it up and hold it against him all 
 their life?" 
 
 "No, Rencie, no. He never harmed a kit 
 ten. There wasn t a person in the world that 
 wouldn t walk around a block to shake hands 
 with him and talk weather. Do you know 
 how long it took him sometimes to walk seven 
 blocks from the post-office to this house? 
 Mostly an hour, and never under forty-five 
 minutes." 
 
 "But didn t he ever have any trouble with 
 anybody so that it could smolder in the other 
 person?" insisted Rencie hopefully. 
 
 "Yes, he did," replied Hulda thoughtfully, 
 while Rencie leaned forward expectantly. 
 "One time he took a girl to a box social where 
 they auction off the lunch boxes and you don t 
 know whose you are getting. Hig Beamer 
 got an old maid s instead of the one he wanted 
 and he threw it out the window right in front
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 127 
 
 of her. Clem I can see him now, the way he 
 rose up and motioned his forefinger like this, 
 and got Hig Beamer outside. Clem s tongue 
 was sticking out and I d never seen him do 
 that before. After a bit Clem come back; his 
 eye was bleeding and he kept one hand in his 
 pocket, but Hig Beamer didn t come back at 
 all. Nobody saw him for a week and finally 
 he moved to another town." 
 
 "Oh !" exclaimed Rencie. "Did Mr. Beamer 
 have a mean disposition that d harbor up a 
 thing for years and years?" 
 
 "Yes, he did, but I mustn t say that poor 
 man, he was killed in that Kirksville cyclone." 
 
 Rencie sank back, all hope of finding an old 
 enemy gone. He was putting on his hat when 
 Miss Pointer burst into sobs. 
 
 "I don t know what to do," she said, bring 
 ing a corner of her apron to her eyes. "My 
 mind s in such an unsettled state that I don t 
 know where I m at. Just this morning Doctor 
 Fordyce was around wanting me to sign up 
 and let him have the lots in the Bellows Bot 
 tom for his medicine factory, you know. He
 
 128 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 says he s got options on all the rest and that 
 I am holding back the development of the city 
 by not letting him have them. Clem, he d 
 know what to do in a minute." She picked up 
 the corner of her apron again and Rencie 
 turned his eyes aside. 
 
 Half-way down the block Rencie suddenly 
 came to a full stop with an idea. Where had 
 he seen that hemisphere charm before? . . . 
 On Doctor Fordyce ! The idea made his head 
 whirl, but he steadied in a moment and told 
 himself that a detective must always be pre 
 pared for everything and suspect everybody 
 until proved innocent. 
 
 "I suspicioned him from the very first time 
 he put his arm around me and called me son 
 ny/ " said Rencie, who could see through any 
 guise of innocence. He had graduated from a 
 correspondence detective course and was their 
 agent for that county. He had a star to prove 
 it. A gold star, too, that looked pretty well 
 when you polished it with soap and* water. 
 The company was going to turn over all its 
 cases in that neighborhood to him, and he was
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 129 
 
 a regularly licensed detective with a grade of 
 ninety-seven per cent, in the final examinations. 
 The company hadn t had any cases in his terri 
 tory since he had graduated, but they might 
 have any day. A queer thing about crime is 
 that you can t tell when it s going to break out ; 
 there might be a perfect crime wave at any 
 moment in his district, and of course he alone 
 would get to handle all the cases. 
 
 Never suspecting that a licensed detective 
 was watching his every movement, Doctor 
 Fordyce went and came with freedom. Even 
 had he known that his steps were being 
 watched he could not have foretold the con 
 sequences. Many an hour he stood at his 
 hotel window hoping to catch sight of a trim 
 and sprightly figure coming down the street. 
 It was not until after several days of wait 
 ing that he got to speak to Mary Mendenhall. 
 
 "Why do you keep me away so effectually?" 
 he asked. 
 
 She did not look toward him. He kept pace 
 at her side for a block. 
 
 "He didn t care anything for you, and here
 
 you are with tears still in your eyes for him, 
 when he never gave you a second thought." 
 
 Mary Mendenhall turned to him, her eyes 
 flashing. "I never said that he cared for me, 
 and I don t see what difference it makes to 
 you if he did. He was a good noble man, 
 and that s more than can be said for some 
 people." 
 
 The doctor laughed as he opened the gate 
 of her front yard. "That s the quickest way 
 in the world to find out what s going on in a 
 woman s heart just prod up the fellow that 
 she s thinking about." 
 
 "Doctor Fordyce, I have a headache and I 
 am going in. I shall bid you good evening." 
 
 "A headache s as good as any other excuse. 
 And this is the way you treat me after all I 
 have done for you. Why is it you treat me 
 this way?" 
 
 He came close to her, and resting one knee 
 in the porch swing, looked into her eyes. He 
 was master of all the little artifices that win. 
 
 "Because I know too much about you, and 
 because I don t like you that s why." Her
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 131 
 
 head went up splendidly and her eyes fastened 
 on him unwaveringly. 
 
 "Yes, but I love you, Mary." His voice 
 dropped pleadingly, and in it was every art 
 of the trained reader. "That makes up for 
 everything. When that comes all else goes. 
 You hate me on account of my past; you do 
 not see the new man budding in me. I have 
 been short in the past, but I have repented 
 bitterly. I am a new man all over. I must 
 say it again, Mary, simply, plainly, as all great 
 and wonderful things should be said. I love 
 you." 
 
 "It is not love. It is fascination. You are 
 a man of pursuit only. Possession to you is 
 loss of interest. I don t believe that a true 
 emotion ever touched your heart. * 
 
 Doctor Fordyce bent over her. "Mary, 
 there is one thing I wish to say to you." He 
 spoke slowly as if thinking several sentences 
 ahead. "You are going to love me. It is 
 just and right that you should. It was so 
 intended. Now that he is gone your mind 
 will settle down and you will see the earnest-
 
 132 WHEN TO LOGIC THE STABLE 
 
 ness of my appeal. Love can t go long un 
 answered." 
 
 Doctor Fordyce was laying his plans well. 
 His psychology took into consideration that 
 greatest of factors in making a rebellious heart 
 say "yes" that of environment. He knew 
 that with her interest gone Clem she would 
 seek another. Her work could not be all. By 
 being thrown with her he would come to in 
 terest her gradually. Each day the fight 
 against him would be less and less hearty~ 
 his faults would be ironed out by his virtues, 
 which he would bring to her attention from day 
 to day. Fordyce was planning well. 
 
 Standing upright, his arms across his breast, 
 he looked down on her conqueringly. He 
 knew that even the position of his body 
 counted; that his calm command of himself 
 was his fulcrum. He knew that woman must 
 be conquered; that she would surrender. He 
 began slowly: 
 
 "I have something more to say to you. It 
 is not in defense of myself, but I am saying
 
 ALL FLESH IS GRASS 133 
 
 it as a friend a very dear friend to warn 
 you. It is about Pointer. I hate to say it 
 if there were any other way in the world, I 
 would not but I could have killed him 
 myself. Don t look at me that way you don t 
 know what I do. He has been talking about 
 you. When he was with other men he made 
 little remarks about you that often maddened 
 me. You know what those things are little 
 nothings things that one can hardly put a 
 finger on, but things that eat deep through 
 subtle suggestion. But there, I mustn t say 
 anything against him now that he is gone." 
 
 Fordyce had unerringly taken the quickest 
 way to rid a woman s heart of love by making 
 her believe that her idol was speaking of her 
 lightly and unfaithfully. 
 
 Mary s hands went slowly up to her bosom, 
 and she bit her lips, while her eyes were fixed 
 and staring. 
 
 Fordyce saw his opportunity. "You know 
 that I love you, love you only as a big hearty, 
 healthy man could. Now may I ask you just
 
 134 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 one thing if he doesn t come back soon, will 
 you give me another chance, that we may be 
 friends?" 
 
 She kept her eyes on the ground for a mo 
 ment. Her hands trembled slightly, and some 
 thing near a smile flashed across Fordyce s 
 face. Her eyes came up to his with more light 
 and trust in them than they had ever shown 
 before. 
 
 "Yes," she answered softly, "if he doesn t 
 come back " 
 
 "Soon?" 
 
 "Yes, soon." 
 
 The two sat in the swinging seat and Clara, 
 the maid, brought out refreshments. Then 
 they talked. Fordyce was in high mood and 
 soon Clara heard her mistress laughing.
 
 CHAPTER IX 
 
 SHORTCAKE 
 
 THE clown was leaning against the scuffed 
 chariot half asleep when Clem came up. 
 
 "I d think you d be in there watching what 
 was going on," said Clem, hitching a heel 
 over the hub. 
 
 The clown s lips parted, but the kindest 
 heart couldn t call it a smile. "I ve been watch 
 ing it for twenty years. They tried to edu 
 cate me to be a priest, and now I m driving 
 the dunce cart. I hope you aren t starting 
 in with us." 
 
 "Yes," returned Clem proudly, "just joined. 
 The beds ain t much to speak of, are they? 
 but there s lots of excitement. I wish the 
 cook d strain the coffee." 
 
 "Last week we didn t have any coffee and 
 the week before the cook was drunk. We 
 hardly ever get them both the same week." 
 
 135
 
 136 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 The music inside the tent rolled higher and 
 higher, hung silent an awful moment and 
 came down with a crash. 
 
 "Red Weaver s doing the triple somer 
 sault," announced the clown. "His brother 
 missed the net last year in Topeka." 
 
 Did it hurt him?" 
 
 "No," returned the painted man grimly. 
 "He never knew what happened. All the old 
 bunch s gone. Minnie Turpin, who used to 
 be shot out of the mouth of the cannon La 
 Diavola had a heart as big as a blanket, but 
 the cannon exploded." 
 
 The clown tapped the ground with his long 
 misshapen toe and looked out across the rail 
 road to a corn-field rolling over the hill be 
 fore the wind, its white tassels beckoning with 
 myriad hands. 
 
 "I ve got a brother that s a doctor," said 
 the clown, as if picking up a loose sentence 
 out of his thoughts, "and he s got six chil 
 dren. One of them is named after me, and I 
 sent him a goat Christmas." 
 
 Gem waited until the clown s attention came
 
 SHORTCAKE 137 
 
 back from across the waving fields. "I d like 
 to ask you something, mister, if you don t 
 mind." The clown raised his brows in inter 
 est. "What is shortcake that s what they 
 called me." 
 
 The merrymaker smiled slowly, weighing 
 whether or not he should answer. "It s a 
 term the boys have," deciding that it was for 
 the best, "that means easy money. It s a lamb 
 that hasn t yet been to the shearers." 
 
 "Well, they won t get anything from me," 
 said Clem. "You can t get tallow from a 
 gnat." 
 
 The clown smiled but offered no word. 
 Clem fell into thought for a time, then said, 
 "I ain t seen a circus in twenty years without 
 paying. I guess they ain t so good any more." 
 
 The misshapen shoe was still. The clown 
 came to his feet humorously if it had been 
 inside the tent his shoe sticking out in front, 
 like a boy standing in the tops of his boots, 
 only it wasn t humorous. The laggard light 
 was still in his eyes, and the white hands still 
 beckoned over the hill.
 
 138 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Sure they are. Follow Captain Scully 
 with the seals, dodge under the seats and go 
 over to the band section. They ll find room 
 for you there. Only don t let the colonel see 
 you." 
 
 Clem slipped inside and in a minute had 
 found a seat as the clown had directed. For 
 got was all the outside world; how could the 
 lady in spangles hold on by just teeth, swing 
 ing from the bar that way? And the tramp 
 in the ragged clothes turned out to be the best 
 performer after all. Clem had hardly straight 
 ened his knees and taken a long breath before 
 the crowd filed out. 
 
 Clem paused before a painting on a wide 
 flung canvas of Archibald, the Human Pin 
 cushion. Archibald, according to his pictured 
 likeness, was a care-free individual in spite of 
 the fact that he was a repository for all kinds 
 of pins, nails, files, scissors and sword blades. 
 They were sticking through the loose skin of 
 his throat, in the web of his forefinger and 
 thumb, and through the back of his neck, with
 
 SHORTCAKE 139 
 
 a few scattering hatpins in his legs. Above 
 this tangle of cutlery towered Archibald, a 
 sweet, almost innocent smile on his face, seem 
 ingly unconscious of the fact that in his ab 
 straction somebody had put all this hardware 
 on him. Above all, shining over all, even tri 
 umphing over the blunt and sturdy hatpin in 
 the back of his neck, was his smile. His was 
 a strong clear-cut face with the exception that 
 recent rain had slightly discolored his jaw and 
 had washed one ear down on his bulging eve 
 ning dress. But these little things didn t make 
 any difference to Archibald; he was out to 
 have a good time, and didn t mind the wind 
 or weather. 
 
 The smile was laid on with such a heavy 
 brush that in a moment Clem s face began to 
 widen and his throat to itch just above the 
 Adam s apple. 
 
 "That thing s got me doing it, too," said 
 Clem aloud, straightening his face. 
 
 A hand dropped on his shoulder and re 
 fused to lift. Clem turned to look into the
 
 140 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 face of a large portly individual with a to 
 bacco-stained goatee. It was the colonel, to 
 whom all the gamblers paid their dues. 
 
 "Come with me," he said, sliding his hand 
 down Clem s arm and at the same time sidling 
 through the crowd. Out through the eddy of 
 people milling around the side-show tent, into 
 open space and out behind a tent and stake 
 wagon. 
 
 The man folded his arms across an abdo 
 men that looked as if it had been put there 
 for that special purpose. He gazed at Clem 
 sadly for a minute without saying a word. 
 Then his stained goatee began to twitch. 
 
 "You are accused of a very grave offense/ 
 he said sadly. "I hate to be the one to tell 
 you of it." 
 
 "What is it?" asked Clem quickly. 
 
 The portly individual bit his under lip and 
 his face winced, braving himself for the or 
 deal. "You are accused," he said with heavy 
 huskiness, "of stealing fifteen dollars from 
 Mr. Hagan, an old and valued member of the 
 circus. I hope it s not true."
 
 SHORTCAKE 141 
 
 "Of course it s not," returned Clem. "Who 
 said so?" 
 
 "Mr. Hagan himself has made complaint 
 to headquarters. I am not aware of all the 
 details and I should not give you any informa 
 tion, but I understand that Mr. Hagan affirms 
 that he gave you three five-dollar bills with 
 which you were to do all in your power to 
 assist him in his work, but that instead you 
 received this money or moneys and disap 
 peared. I trust this is not true, Mr. " 
 
 " Pointer. I didn t steal it here it is 
 take it." 
 
 "Then you still have it on your person. 
 That complicates matters more than ever," fin 
 ished the other gravely. 
 
 "But I went into the show for just a min 
 ute." 
 
 "Mr. Hagan has been looking for you all 
 afternoon and the officials have been unable 
 to locate you. They are watching all out 
 bound trains." 
 
 "What can I do?" Clem appealed. 
 
 The gentleman of girth shook his head sad-
 
 142 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 ly and reached for his meditative goatee. 
 "Let s hunt up Mr. Hagan and see if we can 
 prevail upon him to show some leniency. We ll 
 hope for the best, anyway. Be cheerful, Mr. 
 Pointer there s always hope," finished the 
 portly gentleman sadly. 
 
 Mr. Hagan was found easily. Surprising 
 ly so. 
 
 "He didn t get clear away then," exclaimed 
 Brassy, rushing up and addressing the captor. 
 "That s lucky. Are the papers ready?" 
 
 "I didn t steal that money," put in Clem, 
 "I was at the show all the time." 
 
 Brassy looked at Clem coldly for fully a 
 minute before he spoke. "You re pretty 
 clever; you fooled me. I m sorry you turned 
 out yellow. I was willing to share up with you 
 because you looked the part and you could 
 rope the rubes, but you had the streak." 
 
 "It tain t honest, that s what it ain t." 
 
 Brassy fastened him with a superior smile. 
 "Who re you to talk about honesty?" 
 
 "Well, I am anyway, and it tain t right to 
 take their money away from them that way.
 
 SHORTCAKE 
 
 I didn t know your racket at first or I wouldn t 
 bit." 
 
 "Don t you worry about gettin their kale," 
 said Brassy, his tongue loosening. "I am a 
 profound believer in that masterly bit of phi 
 losophy which runs to the effect that there s 
 one born every minute, and in wet years the 
 average runnin up close to two. They come 
 out to the circus once a year with money in 
 their jeans, by jooks! and if they don t get a 
 thrill over a table they ll go out and hit it up 
 over a bar. Once a year ain t often to iron 
 the ruts out their brains. They think about 
 it all summer, and dream about it till the 
 frost s out. If we don t get the green some 
 body else will. Put that down under Useful 
 Information. You never saw me take a red 
 off a souse; no children go to bed hungry on 
 my trail. I tell em in my patter that they 
 can t always guess it and that the table s going 
 to win every time it can. A lot of these cod 
 gers we take it off of go home in automobiles 
 and what s your make? They ain t going to 
 miss it they all got socks under the fireplace.
 
 I 4 4 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Now come on, old sport, fit in and we ll clean 
 up. While the main top s going we ll line up 
 the wise Willies every town s full of human 
 Brittanicas that you can t tell anything and 
 give them their first lesson in meekness. I m 
 clean out of paper cigar lighters. Help me 
 out to-night and we ll call it square." 
 
 Clem hesitated: after all Brassy was human 
 and maybe he was right about its not pinching 
 any of them. 
 
 "Just to-night and we ll reform. What say?" 
 Brassy held out his hand and Clem s went 
 limply into it. "We ll clean up to-night and 
 shake it. I ve been thinkin about going back 
 home to selling hog cholera remedies again for 
 some time anyway. Trailing a circus is a dog s 
 life. But let s clean good and hard this last 
 time before we quit." 
 
 Clem reluctantly agreed and as soon as the 
 gasoline torches were going had his table 
 spread. Clem, better coached, drifted among 
 the men and boys, dropping a good word 
 whenever he could and coming up every few 
 minutes with a five-dollar bill that always
 
 SHORTCAKE 145 
 
 brought back a mate. As Brassy handed him 
 over the companion bill he gave a prodigious 
 wink, all the time crying out: 
 
 "See what s on the tree for this gentleman. 
 He didn t move a muscle and the five s his. 
 What he can do everybody can do. Two can 
 play as well as one." 
 
 Clem noticed a dry-faced man with his hand 
 in his coat pocket studying him between two 
 narrow slits. He was just about to worm up 
 to the table when the dry-faced man stepped 
 over to him, and cocked an eye to one side. 
 
 "He don t seem to be losing any," he said 
 in a high wavering voice, nodding his head 
 toward Brassy. 
 
 "Sometimes he does," returned Clem profes 
 sionally, showing the tips of a handful of bills. 
 "Depends on your luck." 
 
 The dry- faced man cocked the eye still 
 farther to one side until it shot up over Clem, 
 but was at the same time able to get his ex 
 pression. 
 
 Pears to me that you be winnin right 
 well."
 
 "No reason to kick. Now s a good time to 
 get in while there ain t such a jam." 
 
 The man with his hand in his pocket studied 
 the weather gravely a moment, then swung his 
 eye, like a great search-light around to Clem. 
 "Yes, you seem to be winnin remarkable well. 
 Fact is some of the boys allowed they see you 
 get off the circus train this mornin ." 
 
 A hot blast burst over Clem, and red rushed 
 to his face. He must warn Brassy. Worming 
 up behind him Clem touched Brassy s elbow 
 and jerked his head toward the dark circle 
 that kept trying to smother out the gasoline 
 torches. 
 
 Brassy drew down his brows in anger but 
 Clem gave a more vigorous nod toward the 
 night circle. Bitterly Brassy dropped the shells 
 into his pocket and folded up his table. A 
 thin dry hand dropped on his shoulder and a 
 thin dry face appeared out of the darkness. 
 
 "Might I trouble you for jest a moment? 
 Have you any objection to showin the law 
 your license for conductin , runnin or over-
 
 SHORTCAKE 147. 
 
 seein* games of chance, hazards or lotteries in 
 Henry County, State of Missouri?" 
 
 Brassy faced the thin man and carefully 
 tucked away the bills. By the time the last 
 bill was out of sight he was his voluble self. 
 "Certainly not, my good friend. Always glad 
 to accommodate. Can t we retire for a few 
 moments and talk this over in private ?" 
 
 "If you hain t got it the discussion won t 
 last very long." 
 
 "Certainly not, certainly not. I wouldn t 
 take up your time for anything. It s such a 
 hot evening, couldn t we go into the drug store 
 and get a little something to liven the inner 
 man before we go into details?" 
 
 "Business before pleasure," cut in the high 
 voice. Turning suddenly he laid a hand on 
 Clem and drew the two into the office of the 
 livery stable and closed the door. Throwing 
 back his coat he showed his star. It was a 
 big sterling silver one with engraving on it. 
 The officer tapped it proudly. "I guess you 
 know what that means."
 
 148 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Brassy began running through his pockets 
 for the pretended license while the officer, his 
 hands folded across his breast, looked coldly 
 on. "By jooks !" said Brassy at last. "I guess 
 I was thinking about the last place we played. 
 I told the twenty-four-hour man to be sure to 
 get a license here as I didn t want the good 
 citizens of Henry County to feel that I wasn t 
 giving them a square deal. He s clear forgot 
 that, he has, and I m going to give him a 
 piece of my mind, I am, for I know how it 
 makes you people of Harrison feel." Brassy 
 was master of himself again. "Do you know 
 I always like Harrison. Fine city. I ve often 
 thought I d like to bring my wife and family 
 here and settle down in a little vine-clad cot 
 tage with a silky haired cat curled up asleep on 
 the front porch. It s surprising how well 
 known Harrison is : from one end of the state 
 to the other. It s the first city they ask about 
 Harrison is. It don t seem more than yester 
 day when I used to go along here and the 
 engine wouldn t think to whistle till it got al 
 most past. I remember one day the manager
 
 SHORTCAKE 149 
 
 of the circus and I was sittin in our private 
 car and was passing here when he said some 
 thing that I nearly split myself laughing over. 
 Jim could always say the splittingest things! 
 Poor man, he s gone to his reward now. Well, 
 Jim says, When there s a freight train backed 
 up on the siding here you can t see Harrison 
 at all ! Wasn t that good ? Don t seem more 
 an last week and now look at Harrison a 
 reg lar metropolis and known from one end of 
 the state to the other !" 
 
 The officer s arms slipped down and the stiff 
 ness dropped out of his back. "Yes, I guess 
 that s right." 
 
 "Sure it is. And lots of people out of the 
 state asking about it. Do you happen to have 
 any property you d like to sell a house with 
 vines on it and a cat on the front porch?" 
 
 The constable walked over and sat down on 
 a soap-box. "No, I hain t, but my brother-in- 
 law has a fine place with a south front and a 
 young orchard. It don t take vines no time 
 to grow." 
 
 "No, it don t," said Brassy reflectively. "I
 
 150 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 suppose if I put em in right away they d be up 
 by next season. Has he got any honeysuckle ?" 
 
 "A whole clump of it." The officer was en 
 thusiastic. "It was my brother-in-law s wife s 
 favorite flower. She used always pour the 
 wash water on it suds and all and it 
 growed like a sunflower." 
 
 "Do the children stop in on the way home 
 from school and pop em on their foreheads ?" 
 
 "Every night the yard s jes full of em 
 all poppin away hard as they can and laughin 
 fit to hurt themselves." 
 
 "And do the htimmin -birds come and get in 
 em, their wings churning up the yellow blos 
 soms till they look like egg-beaters?" 
 
 "Yes, jes as quick as the children get away 
 the hummin -birds flock up and 
 
 The catch on the door rattled and a high 
 brown straw hat, perched on a mound of 
 beard, appeared. Washed-out blue eyes winked 
 and in came a long black alpaca coat. "I see 
 you got em, Gib. Bring em right over to my 
 office and we ll get it over with." It was the 
 judge.
 
 SHORTCAKE 151 
 
 The constable arose and wound his hands 
 together as though he was screwing up his 
 courage. "I been talkin to em, Jedge, and 
 I ain t so sure they air guilty." 
 
 "I saw them with my own eyes, Gib guilty 
 as sheep-killin dogs. Bring them up to my 
 office, and we ll make an example of em." 
 
 Slowly and with marked hesitation the con 
 stable followed the judge with his two prison 
 ers up a narrow flight of tobacco-spattered 
 stairs. Judge Goodpasture lowered himself 
 into his swivel chair and motioned the two 
 accused to a wooden bench against the wall. 
 
 Judge Goodpasture dipped his pen, glanced 
 at the calendar and scratched a word. Then 
 he scoured the rusty point on his thumb and 
 dipped again. 
 
 "The court of Justice Goodpasture, Division 
 7, Henry County, State of Missouri, is now in 
 session. What are they guilty of, Gib ?" 
 
 "I ain t so sure they air guilty, Jedge. They 
 seem to have lost their license, and I believe 
 I d go kinda easy on em, Jedge." 
 
 "No license was taken out, and besides
 
 152 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 I ve heard that before. What s your name?" 
 
 "Mr. John Simpson Hagan." 
 
 "We can get along without the Mister," re 
 proved the judge. "Any occupation?" 
 
 "Traveling salesman." 
 
 "What s your name and business?" turning 
 to Clem. 
 
 "Clement Pointer and I used to be in the 
 grocery business." 
 
 "Better stuck to it. Was you two men play 
 ing, takin part in or participatin in game or 
 games of chance in Henry County, State of 
 Missouri?" 
 
 "It s this way, Your Honor," explained Bras 
 sy in his most confidential and persuasive man 
 ner; "at the solicitation of several of the boys 
 I was prevailed upon, very much against my 
 wish, to demonstrate the blind spot in the 
 eye by placing some small object, part or par 
 cel under three walnut shells, shifting them 
 quickly to see who in the crowd could guess 
 which particular shell sheltered the object of 
 their search. It s a most interesting experi 
 ment, showing that the hand is quicker than
 
 u
 
 SHORTCAKE 153 
 
 the eye. The light rays falling upon the optic 
 axis, or as it is commonly called, the pupil of 
 the eye, filter gradually through, losing some 
 of their intensity thereby, until they come to 
 the corona, or as we say, the iris, where some 
 more of them are lost, so that by the time they 
 pass through the anterior scleroid and fall 
 upon the brain they are so weak and diminished 
 that blind spots show through. Thus 
 by shifting small objects, say the size 
 of walnuts, one of them gets in the 
 blind spot and fools a person in knowing 
 what movements it has passed through. Science 
 has studied the human eye for a thousand 
 years and still it doesn t understand it. A child 
 can ask questions about it to baffle the greatest 
 sage of all times. Did you ever stop to think, 
 Judge, about the wonders of the human body? 
 Do you even know where your eyebrows come 
 from? Did you ever stop to realize and to 
 cogitate upon the wonderful mechanism of the 
 human foot?" 
 
 Judge Goodpasture rapped on the table with 
 his corncob pipe. "Hold up there," he warned,
 
 154 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 putting up a slow and deliberate hand. "You d 
 been better off if you d done more cogitating 
 on the gambling laws of the State of Missouri 
 and less on the wonders of the human foot. 
 Did you or did you not conduct, carry on or 
 participate in games of chance?" 
 
 "You see, it was this way, Judge " 
 
 "Gib, did you see em?" 
 
 "Yes," he admitted reluctantly. 
 
 "The court saw em with his own eyes, too. 
 You two men are herewith and hereby fined 
 one hundred dollars and sentenced to six days 
 in jail. Let the record be spread on the books. 
 How much money have they got, Gib ?" 
 
 Brassy s cheeks puffed up and a coating of 
 red settled over his face. His knuckles resting 
 on the table trembled. "This is outrageous," 
 he roared. "It s" 
 
 The judicial hand went up like a semaphore. 
 "One more like that and it ll be ten dollars 
 for contempt of court. Did you ever stop to 
 realize and to cogitate upon a judge s author 
 ity? How much coin or currency do you find 
 upon their person or persons, Mr. Constable?"
 
 SHORTCAKE 155 
 
 Gib was bent double over a pile of bills, peel 
 ing them back with glistening thumb, bending 
 lower and lower as the count grew higher. 
 "Stamps don t count, do they?" he asked with 
 out looking up. 
 
 "Are they stuck together?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "No." 
 
 "I find, Your Honor, they have one hundred 
 four dollars and thirty cents." 
 
 The pen kicked and sputtered across the 
 page. Then it was stuck into a scarred and 
 ink-spattered potato. "Mr. Constable, I com 
 mand these prisoners of the law into your cus 
 tody and order the same to jail for six days. 
 I find the expenses are four dollars and thirty 
 cents. Mr. Constable, the prisoners are yours. 
 The court stands adjourned." 
 
 Gathering its beard into its hand, catching 
 it up as though putting a ribbon around a lace 
 curtain, the court leaned over and the cuspidor 
 splashed. Fitting on the brown straw rick 
 Judge Goodpasture lowered himself down the 
 steps and into the night.
 
 CHAPTER X 
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 
 
 CLEM was strolling through hedge lanes, 
 piled with flowers, blue boats scudding 
 across the sky and yellow-breasted larks climb 
 ing up the clouds and scooting down to the 
 music of the morning wind in the thistles, 
 when a heavy chain rattled and an iron door 
 clanked. 
 
 "Here s your pork and beans," came a voice 
 from neither above nor below. 
 
 Slowly things came jarring back to reality. 
 An unfeeling sharp-cornered brick was stead 
 ily eating its way through Clem s shoulder 
 blades. Clem roused and threw back the quilts ; 
 a double of the blanket had become turned 
 under. 
 
 A round face fitted itself into the iron 
 checker-board of Clem s door. "Up and make 
 156
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 157 
 
 merry the larks have been on the wing this 
 hour." 
 
 Clem propped himself on one elbow and 
 scowled. "Where are we?" 
 
 "Cafe de Goodpasture, Henry County, State 
 of Missouri, guilty of playing, taking part and 
 participating in game or games of chance." 
 
 Clem put his hand to his head as if to brush 
 it all away. 
 
 "Can you sleep here on that junk heap?" 
 
 "Like a log. You can t expect Looie de 
 Quincy beds in these tank towns. This is 
 like the bridal suite at the Waldorf Astoria 
 to the last place they got me. There was things 
 in my bed that wasn t paying guests, and they 
 just gloated over a nice fat stranger. They 
 took to me right at once and the next morning 
 I looked like the bottom pole of a rail fence 
 your grandfather laid. In the circus business 
 you can t always expect a bower of roses and 
 a slave to fan you to sleep with peacock 
 feathers." 
 
 From a tin pan in the corner, Clem splashed 
 some water over his face, studied the towel
 
 158 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 and finally chose his sleeve. "Ain t there any 
 thing we can do?" 
 
 "Sure there is," answered Brassy joyously. 
 "Make the best of it. Did I ever tell you 
 about the time I got pinched in Lebanon and 
 they started to lynch a nigger one night and 
 the nigger got out and how they thought I 
 helped him duck and came at me with a dirty 
 rope? Yes, everything has its drawbacks." 
 
 The breakfast was waiting in the chuck-hole. 
 
 "I hope they got a checker-board," said 
 Brassy, bending over a plate of beans. "Gets 
 lonesome toward the end of the week if you 
 ain t anything to do except build air castles. 
 It don t take long for a fellow to look at the 
 pictures on the walls. Wasn t the jedge a 
 case? An when he spit you could hear the 
 river wash. If I d had a minute more I d 
 got him with that line of bull. I wonder what 
 a fellow can see out the window here the 
 Boston Racket Store or the carving yard of 
 the Universal Tombstone and Casket Company 
 prices plainly marked. I hope you don t 
 snore."
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 159 
 
 Clem caressed his shoulder. "Not on these 
 racks." 
 
 A chain rattled, a hinge screaked and the 
 constable stood before them. "Good mornin , 
 Mr. Hagan," and a nod to Clem finished the 
 saluation "I hope you slept well; I ll try to 
 get another quilt for you as I guess these 
 are gettin kind of thin mebbe along in the 
 mornin . Have you thought any more about 
 the matter we was discussin last evenin , Mr. 
 Hagan?" 
 
 "What was that?" asked Brassy, puzzled. 
 
 "About the vines crawlin up the porch and 
 the cat asleep in the sun. I used my influence 
 with Jedge Goodpasture or it might a been " 
 
 "Yes," snapped Brassy, "but since my stay 
 here I have observed drawbacks to this city 
 that I had never noticed before. The climatic 
 conditions are not all what I had hoped for 
 and my eagerness for cats has somewhat abated 
 since yours kept me awake so last night, spring 
 ing on perfectly harmless mice that couldn t 
 possibly scale an iron wall and gulping them 
 down whole. Last night while I was listening
 
 160 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 to the city feline crushing the bones of one of 
 those innocent creatures I couldn t help think 
 ing about how much work it is to keep up a 
 full-grown honeysuckle bush. And what if one 
 of those humming-birds should dart at me 
 and stick me in the eye with its needle bill? 
 Just one peck and my eyesight d be gone 
 ruined forever and I d be a poor blind man 
 being led around on the street by a dog. No, 
 Mr. Constable, my enthusiasm has abated 
 since our talk last evening and I would have 
 to consider long and seriously before investing 
 in property in this hamlet. Have you any 
 light summer reading that would serve to get 
 a person s mind off last night s fatalities?" 
 
 The constable disappeared to return in a few 
 moments with a blue almanac, the cover of 
 which showed a man who had undergone a 
 major abdominal operation and whose physi 
 cians had suddenly retired without dressing the 
 wound. 
 
 "Oh, horrors," exclaimed Brassy, pushing 
 back the weather book, "if this is light sum-
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 161 
 
 mer reading please don t bring on your trage 
 dies! Who is this Mr. Zodiac? And what 
 are all these crabs and scorpions crawling up 
 on the poor wounded man ? I never in my life 
 saw a man with his contents so shamelessly 
 displayed, nor did I ever see such a care-free 
 expression on the face of an individual as 
 Mr. Aries T. Zodiac has on his. The hardened 
 creature actually seems to delight in his dis 
 habille, not giving a whoop whether there are 
 any ladies around or not. He has the flaps 
 turned back as if inviting the world to come 
 up and make merry, while the doctors have 
 stepped into the workroom to get a sponge and 
 a wrench. His face gives me the jimjams: 
 there is a far-away look on it as if he was 
 trying to figure out just how long it would 
 take a freight train, loaded with cantaloupes, 
 running a mile a minute night and day, year 
 in year out, Fourth of Julys and holidays, start 
 ing on the earth to make it to the sun, barring 
 accidents, while he d a lot better be putting on 
 his clothes.
 
 162 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "My poor nerves are unstrung with them 
 crunched bones ringing in my ears all night 
 and the first thing I see this morning, is a man 
 all cut up with a lot of wriggly things slowly 
 but surely closing in on him. Ain t you some 
 thing cheerful like Simon Legree?" 
 
 The constable backed out like a crab. "Here s 
 the Harrison Hea,dlight. It s just off the press 
 kind of smelly yet." 
 
 Brassy shook the paper open and ran his 
 eye down a column. "Just listen to this," he 
 exclaimed. " Newt Duffy, a prominent agri 
 culturist of Polk Township, brought in a fine 
 load of hogs one day last week. Can t you 
 just see him settin on the wagon seat, reach 
 ing over now and then to put on the brake, 
 with a leather vest on, greasy as a 
 smoke-house floor, riding to town as proud as 
 a Lord Chamberlain while his poor wife s at 
 home slaving away? He routs her out long 
 before daylight and makes her fry him some 
 mush and heat up the hominy and he goes gaily 
 to town, gets the money on the hogs the boys
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 163 
 
 raised, buys the best five-cent cigar in the 
 Square Deal Grocery Store, gets his name in 
 the paper and goes home without getting his 
 wife even a calendar, and then jumps on her 
 for making him eat side-meat all summer. 
 Can t you just see the kind of a man this Mr. 
 Duffy is? He cusses the boys out of bed be 
 fore you can see the hen-house, sends them out 
 to do the milking and the chores while he 
 leans back in the rocker, and reads about him 
 self in the paper, raising the best hogs in Polk 
 Township and hell with his fam ly. His wife 
 calls him Newton and he says, Hey, there! 
 and when one of the boys hitches up and takes 
 his mother to town Saturday she has to ask 
 her husband for a dollar to get a new dress, 
 and she s give him the egg money to buy spring 
 calves. I m glad that I, a gentleman with an 
 honorable calling and ideals, am not forced to 
 reside in a community so overrun with things 
 I will not dignify them with the name of 
 men like this Newt Duffy. If I had known 
 this kind of people was around Harrison we
 
 1 64 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 wouldn t had such a long and useless discus 
 sion about honeysuckles last " 
 
 Brassy s face sobered; the rest of his sen 
 tence ran off into a mumble. The constable 
 backed out of the room. Brassy s eyes slow 
 ly traveled down the column, then he folded 
 the paper and put it in his inside pocket. He 
 studied a dancing girl, chalked on the wall, 
 standing on one foot, then turned to Clem: 
 
 "Would you mind letting me see your left 
 hand a moment?" 
 
 Clem held it out. 
 
 Brassy gave one glance at it and then turned 
 to study the kicking creature for a moment. 
 
 "You never told me why you left Curry- 
 ville, did you?" 
 
 Clem s face ran red, to give up in a moment 
 to a ghastly white. Finally his voice came 
 out in a thin thread : "I just got tired of never 
 seeing anybody new and not knowing anything 
 about the world. And every place except back 
 there things are happenin ." 
 
 Brassy turned open the paper to a head-line 
 and pointed :
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 165 
 
 MURDER IN CURRYVILLE, MO. 
 
 C L. POINTER DISAPPEARED HOUNDS ON 
 
 THE TRAIL $500.00 FOR RETURN 
 
 OF BODY DEAD OR ALIVE. 
 
 Smaller type heralded the details with more 
 or less accuracy, with the preponderance of 
 evidence in favor of less, outlining motives and 
 counter-motives for the crime, containing the 
 description of C. L. Pointer and closing with 
 the whet that next week s paper would give 
 fuller and more horrible details. 
 
 Brassy pointed to the line describing the 
 mole on the inside of the missing man s thumb. 
 "That s why I asked to see your hand," he 
 said simply. 
 
 Clem weakley settled down on the soap-box. 
 
 "Do you know you are worth five hundred 
 dollars?" asked Brassy suddenly. 
 
 Clem covered his face with his hands. 
 
 "Five hundred dollars is a lot of money," 
 said Brassy slowly; "dead or alive." 
 
 Clem lifted his head quickly. He started to
 
 166 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 rise but dropped back. "You ain t goin to 
 to" 
 
 "Yes, I am. I m going to get you out of 
 here so that you can go back by yourself." 
 
 Clem sprang up. "What do you mean?" 
 he said. 
 
 "This," returned Brassy, pointing to a comb 
 swinging to the wall by a sickly brass chain. 
 
 Clem put his hand to his thin locks and 
 shook his head dumbly. 
 
 "Don t you see it s steel lined?" 
 
 "Yes, I guess I do." 
 
 "Pull out the teeth and it s a fine saw. Saw 
 one of them bars in two, twist it over and we 
 can slide out slick as sausage. I ll work the 
 saw and when you hear the chain rattle, sing 
 or have a hemorrhage." 
 
 Brassy braced himself on the soap-box and 
 the saw began to gnaw its way through the 
 bar. Turn about they worked, hastily soaping 
 over the iron wound when the door rattled. 
 When the comb was gone, Brassy tore off the 
 comb-rack on the tin mirror, flattened it under 
 his heel and sawed steadily on. Clem, with
 
 Clem set up a song whenever a footstep sounded outside
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 167 
 
 his ear to the iron door, set up a song when 
 ever a footstep sounded outside. 
 
 "Don t you believe," asked Clem after sup 
 per the second day, "that the constable ll think 
 we are enjoyin our imprisonment too much, 
 and suspect something?" 
 
 "Him?" returned Brassy contemptuously. 
 "He hain t suspected anything since the grass 
 hoppers." 
 
 When the shadows crept in filling the cells 
 with blocks of black, the constable came in, 
 held up a knee, perching on the other leg like 
 a faded flamingo and ripped a match down his 
 thigh. A line of light leaped along his leg, 
 but as the point of fire in his fingers grew into 
 a blaze the line died away. Balancing on the 
 soap-box he held up the curling match and the 
 oil lamp clinging to the wall shouldered the 
 illuminative responsibility. 
 
 "Speaking of light," the officer put in, "Har 
 rison is one of the best lit cities you can find 
 anywhere. It s a great convenience where you 
 have women-folks and children in the family. 
 Have you any children, Mr. Hagan?"
 
 1 68 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Yes, one, but by jooks! as long as I stay 
 in out of the sun and business goes on the 
 same as usual at the old belfry, I ll never bring 
 her to this civic blot on Missouri s map of 
 pride. I hain t seen her now for years and it s 
 my fault, too," he added bitterly. "She s 
 ashamed of her father and she left home be 
 cause her mother still had a thread of hope 
 left that I would turn out all right. She was 
 the breath of the morning and had a hug as 
 tender as a moonbeam in a cow track. When 
 I was the supply man with the circus she would 
 put her fat little arms around my neck and 
 say, Pa-daddy that s what she always called 
 me Pa-daddy, when I grow big can t I go 
 with you and be the lady lion tamer ? Then we 
 can always be relation. Innocent as a lamb 
 on white clover, that s what she was. But 
 when I got to shifting the shells and and the 
 rest of it well, I hain t seen her since." 
 
 Brassy s voice trailed off into reflection, and 
 Gib, awed by the change in his manner, backed 
 out. 
 
 Brassy dreamed away for several minutes.
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 169 
 
 Even though the lamp cast a caricature of him 
 on the floor, twisting his head into a startling 
 resemblance to a bag of potatoes half slouched 
 over, it wasn t funny ; instead the softened lines 
 made one s heart go out to him. "By jooks !" 
 he mused, feeling for the tin saw under the 
 mattress, "she would, too she had nerve 
 enough for anything." 
 
 Arising, he drew the soap-box up to the wall 
 and went to work without a word. Back and 
 forth he drew the wedge of tin, blowing the 
 filings into the night. At last Brassy handed 
 Clem the tin blade, and bracing his knee 
 against the wall, gave the bar a tug. Slowly 
 the bar bent, like a candle before the fire, and 
 at last parted. Brassy twisted the spikes over, 
 and turned around with radiant smile, the per 
 spiration standing on his forehead. 
 
 "The world awaits," panted Brassy happi 
 ly. "Why tarry here, Sir Galahad, when the 
 world beckons without? No doubt Gib will 
 miss us when we re gone, but such is the 
 sadness of life the best of friends must part." 
 
 "How do we know when we can get a
 
 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 train?" asked Clem, hesitating before the final 
 plunge. 
 
 "Easy, easy. Wilst kindly give your atten 
 tion to this clipping torn from the scrivener s 
 paper that Gib, the constable, gave me? In 
 thirty-one minutes a passenger goes through 
 and the blind baggage often carries guests who 
 were not escorted on by the porter with his 
 footstool. We ll just have time to make it 
 and how provoked Gib, the biceps of the law, 
 will feel when he comes and finds that the jail 
 birds have flown! He might even be moved 
 to Pshaw! pshaw! twice in rapid succession, 
 just like 1 that." Brassy reached under the 
 lining of his trousers, and unfastened a safety- 
 pin. "Here s a couple of bills it s my safe 
 deposit when the bulls frisk me. You take one 
 and I ll take one in case we get lost from each 
 other. Now you for Curryville !" 
 
 Clem, with his back to the cell, fitted his el 
 bows between the bars and dropped his head 
 in thought. "All right," he said finally. 
 
 Brassy grew silent, so quiet that the shrink-
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 171 
 
 ing of the iron after the day s heat could 
 be heard. 
 
 "I m going home, too. Maybe I can go 
 back in the hog medicine business." 
 
 Again Brassy was silent, the lamp throwing 
 heavy lines on his face, giving him a touch of 
 sadness that Clem had not believed possible 
 before. 
 
 Brassy came out of the reverie with a long 
 breath. "This ain t gettin* the quinine took. 
 You first and wait for me out behind the hitch- 
 racks. Here, on my shoulder! Feet first, 
 my lord, feet first ! When you get through the 
 hole, hang by your fingers, face to the wall, 
 but when you drop whirl so that you light back 
 to the wall or you ll butt into the bricks. Don t 
 mind the buttons ! Be careful not to get your 
 clothes hooked on a spike and watch " 
 
 Brassy seized Clem by the ankle in a warn 
 ing grip. 
 
 A step sounded on the hollow wooden floor 
 outside. The chain rattled. 
 
 Brassy released his hand. "Jump!" he
 
 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 whispered hoarsely. "He s ( on. Jump and 
 run like hell you ll just about make it." 
 
 "I ain t going without you," returned Clem. 
 
 "I got you into this and I m going to get 
 you out. I ll hold him. Beat it !" 
 
 Clem s red and stained face disappeared into 
 the black cut in the wall. His fingers held on 
 to the brick ledge a moment, then he dropped 
 into the night. A soft thud outside told the 
 story. 
 
 The door complained on its hinges and a 
 high voice sang out: "What you got that 
 lamp goin for?" 
 
 Shaking the iron cot as though just rolling 
 out, Brassy stepped around the cage to the 
 door and putting one sleepy arm over his head 
 said, "I beg your pardon, but I didn t get the 
 drift of your remark." 
 
 "What s that lamp lit for?" 
 
 "Oh, you mean that white beam on the wall ! 
 It is lit, ain t it? Careless of it to get that 
 way. Do you have insomnia, too?" 
 
 "My daughter saw this light and I want
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 173 
 
 to know what s the matter," snapped the offi 
 cer, pushing the door in Brassy s face. 
 
 "I shirk from telling you," replied Brassy 
 easily. "I would fain not mention it to a sensi 
 tive man like yourself, but if you insist on 
 knowing the bare bald truth I will have to 
 harden my feelings and spit it out. We had 
 to do it for self -protection. We retired early 
 and were soon in the land of cotton when a 
 great beast of prey came slipping out of the 
 reeds and bulrushes, stood a moment with up 
 lifted paw and then sprang into our midst. We 
 leaped horrified to our feet see, like this ! It 
 was the cat, striking down one of the innocent 
 rodents gambolin in the corner, springing on 
 her like a dread demon, getting the poor 
 mother by the neck and rending her limb from 
 limb, bone from bone, snuffing out her life in 
 the twinklin of an eye. Then the foul fiend 
 retired to the middle of the floor and slowly 
 and disgustingly et the mother while the be 
 reaved children stuck their noses out the holes 
 and sobbed their hearts away. It was sicken-
 
 174 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 ing. Unable to bear the lonesome wailing of 
 the bereft children, we lit the lamp so that the 
 poor little orphans wouldn t venture out and 
 into the jaws of death. If you ll remove the 
 heartless beast, Mr. Pointer and I ll be glad to 
 dispense with the smoking wick." 
 
 "What was you lookin out the window 
 for?" demanded the constable. 
 
 "Trying to get my eyes off the horrible 
 sight. The slaughter and sight of blood fas 
 cinated me. I would shut my eyes and try 
 to turn them away, but slowly they would 
 swing back to the ghastly scene, and to get 
 them off the carnage I had to stand up and 
 look out the window. Won t you please take 
 that beast out?" 
 
 "What was them sounds I heard?" stepping 
 inside, while his daughter dropped the bolt. 
 
 "Mr. Pointer and me weeping. Poor man, 
 he ll never be the same again." 
 
 "Where is he?" 
 
 "He just couldn t stand it any longer," 
 sobbed Brassy, drawing a hand across his 
 eyes. "He had to leave."
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 175 
 
 "Got out?" cried the constable. "How?" 
 
 Stepping forward, the constable s eyes fell 
 on the twisted bars. 
 
 "How long ago?" 
 
 "That s purty hard to tell. To me, without 
 the presence of his company and locked up 
 alone with that feline murderer, it seems like 
 ages, but no doubt it s shorter. To Mr. 
 Pointer, doubtlessly the time has flew by. Did 
 you want to see him about anything particu 
 lar?" 
 
 Rushing to the door the constable called 
 to his daughter: 
 
 "Grace, Grace, telephone to the depot that 
 one of the men has got out. Hurry!" 
 
 "Will you pardon me a moment, Mr. Con 
 stable, but the train has been gone just about 
 two minutes. I guess mail ll be forwarded to 
 him, though, if you wished to communicate 
 with him." 
 
 The constable s dry face hardened and stiff 
 ened under his anger, freezing like a fresh 
 hide in the snow. His lips broke straight across 
 as though the hide had been twisted in the
 
 1 76 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 winter weather. All his rage burst through the 
 slit in one big snapping sentence : 
 
 "You re a skunk, that s what you are." 
 Brassy drew over nearer and when he spoke 
 it was soothingly, an older man counseling a 
 wayward youth: 
 
 "I fear me that you have spoken hastily, 
 without weighing your words. Quick words 
 have kept more people tossing on a midnight 
 mattress than all the fever in the land. I 
 know how a person whose tongue has taken 
 the bit between its teeth has said things that he 
 has repented with an ache in his heart that 
 seemed to be tearing the vitals out of him. The 
 tongue is an unruly member that must be 
 handled with a mailed hand. When your 
 tongue has been threshing at your teeth to get 
 out and run amuck, have you ever tried the 
 old, old plan of counting ten? Simple, almost 
 childish as it seems, this plan has saved many 
 a heartache. It stabs me through and through 
 to think that you would even intimate that I 
 had the slightest resemblance to that uncouth
 
 THE WORLD BECKONS 177 
 
 member of the weasel family who, when cross 
 ed, makes himself so obnoxious and distasteful 
 to everything and everybody around him. I 
 feel sure that, when in a calmer moment, you 
 reconsider your allegation, you will humbly re 
 pent your hasty words and be willing to bite 
 your tongue out for letting it get the upper 
 hand of you." 
 
 "Pa," came a girl s voice from the other 
 side, "the train s gone." 
 
 "Probably Mr. Pointer left word with the 
 station agent for you," said Brassy thought 
 fully. 
 
 "Shet up!" snapped the arm of the law. 
 "We ll telegraph ahead and get him. Any 
 way, I ll see that you don t get out." 
 
 His heels clicked spitefully, and an hour 
 later when Brassy peeped out of the barred 
 window the representative of peace and jus 
 tice was propped in a chair, leaning back 
 against a maple, a murderous-looking shotgun 
 across his knees. 
 
 "Hey, there, Mr. Constable," called out
 
 i;8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Brassy, framing his face between the bars, 
 "don t point that thing this way it might go 
 off." 
 
 The officer raised the gun threateningly and 
 the face in the frame disappeared like Punch 
 in a marionette show. 
 
 The officer s head dropped back against the 
 bole of the tree, and he was slowly settling 
 himself to rest, when a wild, scratching, claw 
 ing, four-footed creature shot out of the win 
 dow, dropped spitting into his lap, gathered its 
 claws painfully in Gib s trousers and leaped 
 away, snarling insult.
 
 CHAPTER XI 
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 
 
 WHEN a freight train jarred into Curry- 
 ville a couple of nights later, the cars 
 crowding one another, surging forward and 
 falling spitefully back, like cattle in the yards, 
 no one saw a worn man with face much lined 
 at the eyes lift the trap-door and crawl out 
 of a car of baled hay. Lowering himself down 
 the iron steps, he slipped behind a coal bunker 
 and waited until a man with a long-billed cap 
 had given the engine a drink and the cars be 
 gan to creep forward, as if trying to slip up 
 on a foe, the line of the station rising and fall 
 ing as the cars rolled by. 
 
 While the two green lights were melting 
 
 into the night, the man slipped across the 
 
 tracks and started up-town, keeping to the 
 
 side streets and the shadows. The McElravys 
 
 179
 
 i8o WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 still had their washing out why couldn t she 
 ever get it done on Monday as a person should ? 
 Good-natured, though, every one of them, and 
 Bob, who began by "sweeping out" and stick 
 ing to it with a smile every day in the year, 
 would own the Owl Drug Store some day. 
 
 Oh, the Kipps were painting their house! 
 The very house he d planned and built. But 
 that isn t the color for it; after all, there s no 
 color like a dignified white. It was the doings 
 of Bertha Kipp who d been away to boarding- 
 school. Bet she ll marry some scalawag from 
 Kansas City who wears pearl buttons on his 
 shoes and enlarges photographs. Bob Mc- 
 Elravy was too good for her, he was. And 
 he used to carry her books home from school 
 and licked the stuffing out of that Rouse boy 
 because he said she had red hair. What s get 
 ting into the young people nowadays? they 
 never know who s meant for them any more. 
 
 There s Mrs. Upshear sitting in the window 
 writing like she always is, keeping a diary, 
 thinking that her husband 11 come back some 
 day. Come back some day in spite of what
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 181 
 
 they all say, and she couldn t never remember 
 everything to tell him, and maybe if he came 
 back too late sitting there with the shawl 
 around her and everybody else fanning he d 
 find the diary and understand. If the cherries 
 weren t all gone he must send over a bucketful. 
 She d take them in her thin trembling hands, 
 thank him soft like and look around the bare 
 room for something to give him; then beg 
 him to sit down and rest a while, and pinching 
 her old faded skirt between her fingers, lead up 
 to it so she could ask if he thought William 
 would be back before the Yellow Grimes were 
 all gone? You know it s fourteen years, just 
 about now when the cherries are getting red. 
 Do you suppose William ll think I m much 
 older? He wouldn t say so if he did just 
 spread his fingers out on my hair and kiss in 
 
 between them 
 
 Nobody must see him until he got home 
 and found Hulda. About this time of the 
 evening she would be sprinkling down the 
 clothes or sitting beside the red lamp on the 
 yellow cracked table reading her good night
 
 182 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 rhapter. Nobody could keep house the way 
 I lulda could; everything just like it had come 
 out of a store. You could come to call any 
 lime you wanted to and she wouldn t have to 
 run ahead shutting doors and throwing things 
 under the bed like .some women he could name. 
 Every string from the store wound up on a 
 corn-cob and stuck in a Mason jar so that you 
 could go into the kitchen at midnight and put 
 your hand on anything you wanted. And when 
 you got sick one bowl of her broth made you 
 feel like sitting up, and she could just look 
 at you once and put her hand on your fore 
 head, ask where you felt sick, march right out 
 in the kitchen and come back with something 
 that would straighten you out before a regu 
 lar doctor got through shaking the thermome 
 ter. 
 
 Night was fast taking up the houses, like 
 a great piece of blotting paper. 
 
 Clem was elated through and through to be 
 back. Home had never before seemed so dear. 
 Curryville was the best town in all the world, 
 but they should fix the crossing down by the
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 183 
 
 stock-yards some horse s liable to break a leg. 
 
 He came slipping in through the back gate. 
 He would surprise Hulda just about the time 
 she was shutting the Bible on the hand-worked 
 book-mark. He must look his best; he knew 
 that he was grimy after knocking around box 
 cars, but how could he brighten up before he 
 went inside? The rain barrel suggested a 
 way. The wash-pans were all in the house, 
 but a crock would do. He plunged his face in 
 and scrubbed and dried on a wadded handker 
 chief. He brushed the hay-heads off and 
 shook his coat. He felt better anyway, even 
 if his efforts did not show very much. The 
 rain barrel was getting full of polliwogs; tip 
 ping it up on its chime he drained them out and 
 backed away from the encroaching flood. 
 
 What a big nest the English sparrows had 
 built in the eaves-trough while he had been 
 away. English sparrows were the meanest 
 birds in the world. 
 
 He turned the corner to step up on the porch 
 and nearly fell over a yawning coal pail. Hulda 
 hadn t had anybody to fill it for her, and she
 
 was never very strong; not half so strong as 
 she looked. He turned back to the wood-shed. 
 The supply of coal was getting low; he would 
 have the bin filled for the winter before the 
 prices went up. 
 
 He came back with a heaping bucket brush 
 ing against his leg, one arm out for balance. 
 He stopped short; the front part of the house 
 was a blaze of light every lamp in the house 
 was burning. Slipping up to the half-open 
 window he pressed his face against the screen. 
 The room was full of people talking in low 
 voices. 
 
 Then he saw that the light didn t come from 
 lamps but from candles. 
 
 In a moment the full significance of the 
 candles and the crowd burst on him. They 
 were having what would have been a wake had 
 Hulda not been an American and a Methodist. 
 They had given up search for his body and 
 were mourning for him. Clem knew how it 
 was; Hulda would feel better after there had 
 been some public demonstration for her lost 
 brother.
 
 -** * . 
 
 They had given up search and were mourning
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 185 
 
 Clem wet his lips he would rush in and 
 bring joy to all. But something made him 
 pause a moment and put his ear to the screen. 
 
 "Poor man, he s better off where he is than 
 the rest of us," came a sad voice. Clem stiff 
 ened : it was Mrs. Kiggins, and she was speak 
 ing in the mournful tone she used at funerals, 
 and Mrs. Kiggins was one of the most regular 
 funeral attendants in all Curryville. "Of 
 course the taking was hard, but he has gone 
 to his reward. We poor worms of the earth 
 can not understand many things, but we know 
 that everything is for the best. We mourn 
 and sorrow for our dear departed brother 
 when all the time he is in a far happier land, 
 resting in the bosom of Abraham. Just a few 
 nights before Brother Pointer s taking off I 
 had a horrible dream just like I did the week 
 before the Kimmons girl got her foot caught in 
 the frog on the railroad track. I seemed to 
 be walking beside a great body of water, and 
 it was lappin on the edge and I saw a lonely 
 figure walking ahead of me. Something about 
 it looked familiar and I called to it, but it
 
 186 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 didn t turn. Then I called again and it turned 
 and it was oh, oh Brother Pointer and his 
 face was all bruised and bloody. He raised 
 one hand like this and pointed down into the 
 water and disappeared. Do you understand 
 it, Brother Sadnow?" 
 
 The Reverend Sadnow drew his hands out 
 of his sleeves, and cleared his throat. Such 
 things could not be explained, but they were a 
 matter of history and record and only went 
 to show how uncertain human life was. The 
 only safe way to be prepared for the call 
 that must come to all was to attend meeting 
 regularly and contribute freely that the great 
 work of saving souls might go on undimin- 
 ished. 
 
 "Held up one hand like this," Mrs. Kiggins 
 repeated, "a sad look on his face, and pointed 
 down into the water. I didn t tell anybody, 
 for you know how it would worry a person. 
 I ll never forget how he pointed just like this. 
 Poor man, he s better off now than we are. 
 Maybe he s back this minute, lookin at us 
 and feelin sad for us."
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 187 
 
 Clem stepped back into the darkness and 
 tried to turn away, but was drawn irresistibly 
 to the window. 
 
 "He was a good man," said Mrs. Ford, 
 reaching over and righting one of the candles. 
 "As good a man as ever walked on two legs. 
 Kind of quiet, but when he talked you listened. 
 I mind the time my cave got full of water and 
 with Rencie too little to help and all the canned 
 fruit Cousin Wilson gave me just ready to 
 topple over and spoil. Then Clem come just 
 remembered I was a poor widow and bailed 
 all the water out and slipped away before I 
 could get him a cracker and a mouthful of 
 jam. The last time I saw him he was hitching 
 up a boy s billy-goat." 
 
 Reverend Sadnow pushed his hands farther 
 into his sleeves and prepared to speak. 
 
 "The departed brother was a worthy vessel ; 
 always ready to take his talent out of his nap 
 kin, share it with the world and give the linen 
 to some worthy soul. His lamp was always 
 trimmed and sitting in the window to keep 
 some poor soul s weary feet from stumbling as
 
 1 88 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 he trod the sidewalk of life. Healthy and 
 happy one day and the next gone to the land 
 that floweth with milk and honey. It only 
 goes to show that in the midst of life we are 
 in the midst of death. The angel of death 
 has its black wings stretched out all the time 
 and in its talons snatches us poor mortals away 
 without a moment s warning. I should like 
 to urge on all of you who have not handed in 
 your church letters that you do so at once 
 for no man knoweth what the morrow will 
 bring forth." 
 
 Silence held for a labored minute while the 
 Reverend Sadnow glanced around the room as 
 if calculating which one would be the first to be 
 snatched away. 
 
 The mourners moved in nearer the candles ; a 
 locust at the corner of the porch lifted its file- 
 like voice in challenge to the sleeping world. 
 
 "He was a splendid character," said Mrs. 
 Woodbridge simply. "I sometimes think we 
 are so busy being selfish that we overlook the 
 fine qualities in those nearest us." 
 
 "He was a tender noble brother," sobbed
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 189 
 
 Hulda. "It breaks my heart to think of all 
 the mean things I said to him. He was going 
 down-town that night for me, tired out and 
 patient as he could be, when he was struck 
 down, thinking of me to his last breath." Her 
 handkerchief went to her eyes and her shoul 
 ders rose and fell in repentance. 
 
 Clem drew back from the window and tip 
 toed away. "And me runnin away from it all ! 
 I ain t fit to associate with them, me a gambler 
 and a jail criminal ! I never did put that hinge 
 on the gate she wanted me to, and she has to 
 lift it every time she goes through, and me 
 worrying the life out of her every day, and 
 she keepin the neatest and cleanest house in 
 town." He sat down on a saw-horse under 
 a cherry tree, and for half an hour he re 
 mained in the same position, his chin in his 
 hand, thinking. Then he spoke aloud as if 
 laying down the law to himself; spoke slowly 
 and with the harshness of a Puritan. "I 
 ain t fit to come back to her me, a jail-bird ! 
 I m going away and take my medicine and 
 when I do come back I can look her in the
 
 190 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 eye. I m going to straighten up and come back 
 a man." 
 
 Rising, he turned resolutely away. As he 
 passed through the small garden he paused, 
 and looked over the latch fence. "I hope them 
 Knabb chickens ain t eatin up all the toma 
 toes when there ain t no one here to watch 
 em. She caught cold settin* them out while 
 I was down-town arguin how the world would 
 come to an end." 
 
 At the corner of the yard he turned and 
 looked back. The low tones of the organ 
 rolled out Gertie Knabb was playing, and 
 voices were lifted in When We Shall Meet 
 Over on the Other Shore. Brushing his hand 
 across his eyes, Clem squared his shoulders 
 and started toward the freight yards. 
 
 Suddenly a figure rose out of the darkness 
 before him Rick Oody. Clem jumped back, 
 but it was too late Rick had seen him. 
 
 "Who s that, who s that?" demanded Rick 
 excitedly. "Go way from me, I ain t done 
 nothin* I swear I hain t. What makes you 
 come back and pick on a poor old thing like
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 191 
 
 me?" He dropped his spade and was just 
 turning in flight, when Clem reached out a 
 hand. 
 
 "Is that you, Rick?" 
 
 "Yes, it s me. To-night when I was buryin 
 a cow I looked up and saw the new moon over 
 my left shoulder and you come back to haunt 
 me already." 
 
 "Don t be afraid, Rick," patting his shoul 
 der. "I ain t a ghost." 
 
 "Who what are you then ?" 
 
 "I wasn t killed, Rick. I run away like a 
 coward." 
 
 "You sure you wasn t killed then," working 
 his shoulder out from under the friendly hand. 
 
 "No, Rick, no, I m all right. I m just a 
 fool, that s what I am, Rick." 
 
 Rick edged away as if not quite sure that 
 the stranger wasn t something of a less elemen 
 tal nature. 
 
 "I am goin to tell you something, Rick, 
 and I want you to keep it to yourself for me. 
 Will you?" 
 
 "Yes," he returned firmly.
 
 192 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "I believe you. I wasn t killed, not even 
 hurt that s all I can tell you now. I m going 
 away, but I m coming back sometime and ex 
 plain everything. I want you to promise that 
 you won t mention a word of this to anybody 
 will you promise?" 
 
 Rick promised. 
 
 Clem patted Rick on the shoulder. Rick 
 was getting old, but in spite of everything he 
 was lovable and loyal. 
 
 "How s everybody, Rick? Have you had 
 any more fires? Do they keep water in the 
 priming bucket? Did Gertie Knabb win the 
 Tribune piano? Have the McElravys found 
 their goat yet?" 
 
 Rick was helpless under this whirl of ques 
 tions. "No, no more fires everybody s been 
 too busy searching for your body. It s been 
 found three times. Say, I hate Doctor For- 
 dyce. They hadn t got out the reward offers 
 till he was calling for a sale of your lots in 
 the Bellows Bottom. Miss Mary Mendenhall 
 hated him at first, too, but she s kind of givin 
 up now. One day she said to me, Do you
 
 HOME SWEET HOME 193 
 
 think Mr. Pointer is really dead? I know 
 it/ I said. Why? Oh, nothin , she says. 
 He is a brave man, isn t he? He was, I 
 says, and she put her handkerchief up to her 
 eyes. Just then Doctor Fordyce come up and 
 went walking with her. I hate him. Ever 
 notice his ears? growed tight up against his 
 head like door hinges." 
 
 "Do do they go walking together often?" 
 
 "He s got an automobile," replied Rick. 
 
 Clem caught his breath and involuntarily 
 his hand went up to his head. But in the dark 
 ness Rick couldn t see. "I ain t good enough 
 for her," he said under his breath, "for either 
 of them . . . me a gambler . . . and a 
 jail-bird. . . ; There s nobody to blame 
 but myself. I m going to take my medicine." 
 Then he raised his voice to Rick. "Now, Rick, 
 don t say a word promise me again, won t 
 you?" 
 
 Rick held out a hand still rough with clay, 
 and Clem knew the pledge would never be 
 violated. 
 
 "Good-by, Rick."
 
 194 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 With that Clem slipped off toward the sta 
 tion where a thirsty freight was panting at 
 the tank.
 
 CHAPTER XII 
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 
 
 THE chain rattled, the door creaked and 
 Gib entered the jail. 
 
 "Come right in and make yourself at home," 
 greeted Brassy. "Out-of-town trade solicited, 
 home cooking a specialty and buses meet all 
 trains. Our interior decorations are by such 
 well-known artists as Beefy Bill, Roscoe the 
 Red and Jack the Penman. Our scenery is es 
 pecially noteworthy, containing enchanting 
 glimpses of the shingle roof of the New Palace 
 Livery Barn, a vista of the rear of Weisen- 
 berg s New Cement Hand and Steam Laundry, 
 with an especially good opportunity to study 
 Huggins Gully, where they built the scaffold 
 to hang Mexico Mike, the boy bandit. From 
 this alcove maddening glimpses of the sunset 
 may be obtained. I don t wish to push our 
 
 195
 
 196 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 sunsets over rival sunsets, but I am sure you 
 will find them especially attractive. Without 
 wishing to run down any of our competitors or 
 cast aspersion on their beauties I can say these 
 sunsets are almost an exclusive feature with 
 us. Guests have remained for weeks chained 
 to the spot just to take advantage of our solar 
 arrangements." 
 
 "Shut up," snorted the officer. 
 
 "There, there, you ve forgotten your count 
 ing. Begin one two three. Do you know 
 that I believe I am not welcome here; it hurts 
 me to think you do not want me around; if 
 I had known how you felt about it, far be it 
 from me to have forced myself on you. A sen 
 sitive soul like me d rather die than feel un 
 welcome, so I will leave day after to-morrow. 
 By jooks! seems to me I ve been here since the 
 buffalo left." 
 
 "Can t you shut up? I m gettin afraid to 
 come in here." 
 
 "One two three " 
 
 After his tour of inspection, the officer 
 slammed the iron door spitefully.
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 197 
 
 A little later the chains rattled again and 
 the door groaned its way open. 
 
 Brassy looked up and Clem stood before 
 him. 
 
 Brassy came to his feet, grabbed both of 
 Clem s hands and pumped them. "Welcome 
 to our salon," he exclaimed, hopping from one 
 foot to the other in an elephantine dance. 
 "Thrice welcome! Come right in and make 
 yourself at home the best in the place s yours. 
 Things have changed a lot since you left: 
 temperature and the sheets. Jooks! but you 
 are looking younger travel must do you good. 
 Mr. Gib has missed you sadly ; he s been asking 
 about you every day. I never saw a person 
 take such a fancy to a fellow the way he did 
 to you; you hadn t been gone half an hour till 
 he was wild to see you perfectly wild." 
 
 Silently Brassy reached over and shook 
 Clem s hand again. "Where did they get you, 
 anyway?" 
 
 "They didn t get me." 
 
 "But you re here!" pointed out Brassy. 
 
 "I just came back that s all."
 
 198 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Brassy searched Clem s face for the joke. 
 
 "Quit your kiddin . Have they got hounds?" 
 
 "No. I came back." 
 
 "You mean brought." 
 
 Clem shook his head. 
 
 "Do you mean to tell me," flourished Brassy, 
 "that you, in your right and lawful mind, de 
 liberately, of your own accord, knowing full 
 well what you were about, with malice afore 
 thought, wilfully and premeditately returned 
 to this chamber of horrors?" 
 
 "Yes. Are the beans any better?" 
 
 "You just came back, walked up to Gib 
 and says, Please, sir, will you take me in? I 
 am lonesome. 
 
 "Well, not just exactly that; I went up to 
 him and said, Tm back and am goin to stay 
 my time out. 
 
 "This ain t no place for me. I m afraid to 
 stay in here alone with you. Say, I can t 
 tell when you re kiddin . Sure enough now, 
 did you come back and say to Gib, Tut me to 
 bed, mother ?" 
 
 "Not just them words, but "
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 199 
 
 "You shouldn t travel outside with the cir 
 cus get under the main top. Say, old pal, 
 I like you, anyway even if there is something 
 loose. You didn t engage permanent quarters, 
 did you?" 
 
 "No, as soon as my time s up I m going 
 home and be white." 
 
 Brassy reached out a thick hand. "Shake. 
 Me, too. But I m going to stick here with you 
 till your time s up." 
 
 It was useless for Clem to argue. 
 
 "I m not going till you wring Gib s hand 
 good-by," said Brassy. "I can learn a lot 
 hangin around you." 
 
 Long and earnestly the two talked, Brassy 
 listening with deepest respect to Clem s sim 
 plest utterance, till the day came for Brassy to 
 go. Gib came in and called: "John Simpson 
 Hagan, John Simpson Hagan, be it known that 
 your time of imprisonment has expired and I 
 am ordered to give you your freedom." 
 
 "Mr. Officer," began Brassy, expanding, "I 
 can not find words to express the emotion that 
 stirs my heart, that wells up and clamors for
 
 200 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 utterance at your thoughtful offer, but still at 
 the same time a deeper feeling surges over me 
 in remembrance of the many kind deeds you 
 have done for me. When I came to this place I 
 was a stranger and ye took me in and ye have 
 sheltered and fed me ever since, stayed up at 
 night and planned for me. Your hospitality 
 has overwhelmed me, your generosity has 
 shamed me. I can not bear to tear myself 
 away and to think that our only means of com- 
 munication d be post-cards; at best there is 
 something lacking in post-cards; they can not 
 express all the emotions that the human heart 
 is heir to, so I shall remain here for a few 
 days more where I may have the pleasure of 
 meeting you from time to time." 
 
 The constable rubbed his forehead, per 
 plexed. "You mean you ain t goin ?" 
 
 "My soul cries for a few more sunsets 
 just a few more glimpses of the golden orb 
 of day sinkin to rest between the Boston 
 Racket Store and the New Palace Livery Barn, 
 its shimmering shafts falling athwart the Wei- 
 senberg New Cement Hand and Steam Laun-
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 201 
 
 dry and painting glorious pictures with its ra 
 diant rays in nature s own colors over the 
 Bull Durham sign. I would stay on." 
 
 The constable backed toward the door. "I 
 been constable for twenty-two years now, and 
 never failed of election, but I ain t ever had 
 any like you two. One breaks out, them comes 
 back and begs to be locked up, and when the 
 other one s time s up he talks about sunsets and 
 won t leave. You ain t like the average run. 
 How d you gentlemen like to have cornbread 
 to-night?" 
 
 "Oh, a golden piece of cornbread; split it in 
 two and put in a piece of butter the size of 
 a domino! We ll book solid with you!" 
 
 The constable could not do enough for them ; 
 no doubt they were philanthropists traveling in 
 disguise or millionaires on a lark. You read 
 about such things every day in the papers and 
 if you treated them well, they d come back and 
 pension you for life. Or maybe they d build 
 an iron fountain for the city with a horse 
 standing up rampant was what they called 
 it and water squirting out its nostrils, and a
 
 place down at the bottom for dogs. You could 
 never tell. Besides the fat one didn t talk 
 like an ordinary man ; he must be a philanthro 
 pist or a millionaire. 
 
 Gib s whole manner changed. The old quilts 
 were taken off and pillows were brought in; 
 even a new wash basin appeared. 
 
 He came in with his hand behind his back. 
 "Would you gentlemen like a bit of ice 
 cream?" 
 
 Brassy looked at Clem; Clem returned the 
 gaze. Brassy spoke: "Cruel man, you but jest 
 with us jest with us poor miserable wretches 
 incarcerated in this penal institution, so that 
 we can not go about the land carrying on our 
 great and good work of teaching doubting 
 mankind that a blind spot grows on every 
 retina. Now you taunt us thrust a stick of 
 candy in our faces and when our greedy fingers 
 reach out for it, jerk it away with a harsh 
 mocking laugh." 
 
 "It ain t candy it s ice-cream," bringing 
 his hand around and showing a heaping plate. 
 
 Brassy smacked his lips. "Pinch me, pinch
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 203 
 
 me I sleep, but if this is sleeping turn back 
 the alarm clock." 
 
 Gib s face cracked and broke open while he 
 wormed backward toward the door. "If you 
 gentlemen want anything more just pound on 
 the chuck-hole and I ll hear you." 
 
 "I ain t wandering in my head, am I ?" ques 
 tioned Brassy, after the door had locked. "I 
 feel all right, but still this is regular ice 
 cream." 
 
 As the days closed and the hours grew 
 nearer for the two to go, the guardian of the 
 calaboose became more and more thoughtful. 
 The night before Clem was to have his free 
 dom the constable came in and told them that 
 although it was not quite according to the rules 
 and regulations he would take them to the 
 moving picture show, if they felt so disposed. 
 But Brassy and Clem were talking over their 
 plans after they should once get out and pre 
 ferred the time to themselves. With a well of 
 words Brassy explained that they were in 
 prison and that none of the frivolities of the 
 world should keep them from their stern duty
 
 204 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 of being model prisoners and that while they 
 appreciated his kind offer they felt that they 
 had a higher duty to their state and country 
 to perform by remaining in durance vile, and 
 that they hoped he would see it from their 
 point of view and understand just how much 
 it hurt them to turn down his kind and 
 thoughtful offer. After they got out and 
 were riding in their private cars, looking 
 into their smelting business in the West 
 and running down to Florida to see how 
 their reclamation of everglades was get 
 ting along, they should certainly remem 
 ber his kind offer and when opportunity 
 presented they would reciprocate in a way much 
 more substantial than by mere empty words., 
 
 "They re in disguise all right," the constable 
 whispered to his daughter Grace. "The fat 
 one let it slip that they had private cars, yachts 
 and everglades. Can t you spare a little of 
 that salad, Grace?" 
 
 On the last day Gib came in and sadly in 
 formed them that freedom was theirs. "Can 
 I help you gentlemen get ready?"
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 205 
 
 Brassy explained that in some way or other 
 they would struggle along and try to manage 
 to get their things packed without putting their 
 host to so much trouble. When the two came 
 out the hallway was half full of men who had 
 casually dropped in to see the constable for 
 a minute, nothing pressing, but just as well at 
 tend to it this morning as not. Cale Stark was 
 studying the county map, his glasses teetering 
 on the end of his nose. Lem Higginbottam 
 was sitting in Gib s chair, his brown straw hat 
 pushed back from a wrinkled brow. 
 
 When the free men came out there was a 
 gradual shifting of all the loungers in the 
 office until they faced the two philanthropists 
 in disguise. 
 
 Lem Higginbottam rose from the office chair 
 bedded with papers. "One of you gentlemen 
 have a seat. Was you calculatin on goin back 
 to the circus or was you thinking of investing 
 in these parts?" 
 
 Brassy prepared himself. It was just the 
 kind of situation he loved. He explained that 
 he would catch up with his branch of the circus,
 
 206 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 see that everything was all right, engage a 
 new acrobatic troupe, send the earnings to the 
 eastern safe deposit vault, cross over and see 
 how the other branch was getting along, then 
 start for the West in their private car and 
 get some of the smelter business things 
 straightened out. A person had to be con 
 stantly in touch with all the departments of a 
 large business, his fingers on every key of the 
 great machine to keep all the cogs working 
 smoothly ; such work could not be left to an as 
 sistant, or one of the minor officers, capable 
 as he might be. Such work was for none but 
 the president. But as for investing in these 
 parts he had not had time to look around, busy 
 as he had been during the last week; so busy 
 that he hadn t gone out at all. Still if they 
 knew of anything that had possibilities they 
 could address him at his eastern office, 26 
 Broadway, New York, and if he couldn t come 
 himself he would have his confidential man 
 drop off on his way west. He d like to go 
 into it in detail but they must excuse him as
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 207 
 
 he and Mr. Pointer must catch the next train. 
 Business was business. 
 
 Cale Stark had his phaeton outside and was 
 going down toward the station and if the 
 gentlemen wished to ride he would be only 
 too pleased to have them jump in. 
 
 When they arrived at the station the plat 
 form was full of loungers, who had just hap 
 pened to come down thinking there might be 
 some express for them. 
 
 The train came rolling in, the engineer lean 
 ing out the cab, his arms folded under him, 
 like a pup s feet, looking on the people in good- 
 natured superiority. Engineers always have 
 that look when they pull into a small town. 
 They seem to be sorry for everybody on foot. 
 
 "There s the one that got away and came 
 back," Clem heard some one on the edge of 
 the crowd whisper. "Probably ... in 
 disguise . . . show them the new ice 
 house? Lots of ... on larks." 
 
 The constable held out his hand to Clem. 
 "I hope, Mr. Pointer, you won t hold this
 
 208 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 rough fare against us you know how the 
 law s got to be obeyed. Being so honorable 
 as to come back after you was out has sort 
 of got us liking you. When do you think you ll 
 be back to get better acquainted?" 
 
 Before Clem could tell him just when that 
 pleasant day would be, the train started and 
 Clem swung on. Where was Brassy? He 
 hadn t seen him for several minutes. Clem 
 hurried through the train and in the last car 
 found him just coming in from the platform. 
 "Barely made it," puffed Brassy. "Just bare 
 ly. Running ain t my specialty. I got too 
 much to carry, but I just had to stick till the 
 very last second the picking was so good." 
 He pulled out a handful of bills and caressed 
 them tenderly. "The boys got me off in the 
 baggage room and inveigled me into showing 
 them once more about the mysterious phenome 
 non of human nature la periphera, or as it is 
 commonly called, the blind spot. A goodly 
 number of them had it and I was doing all I 
 could get that? doing all I could and as 
 fast as I could when the bell rang; I made
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 209 
 
 another examination or two, collected the fees 
 and beat it. I d like to go back there with a 
 basket. We ll go snucks on this half and 
 half." 
 
 Clem pushed his part back. "No," said he 
 firmly. "I can t take it; not a penny. I am 
 starting out new, quick as I earn enough to 
 buy a new suit and get fixed up respectable like 
 I m going home." 
 
 Brassy stared at him dully. "I don t get 
 you." 
 
 "No, I m not going to take it, much as I 
 need it. I m going to straighten up alone 
 without it." 
 
 Brassy s eyelids opened and shut heavily. 
 He started to speak, but ended by moistening 
 his lips. Finally he burst out: "I m beginning 
 to wonder who I was locked up with; you 
 make your getaway slick as lard, stay 
 away three days then come back and say, 
 Here I am lock me up again, please/ When 
 Providence puts some cash into your hands 
 you push it back and say, Not a penny. I m 
 going to straighten up alone/ I can t see what
 
 210 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 you ve got to straighten up alone from. Come 
 on, we ll go hep on this." 
 
 "No," returned Clem. "I ve already started 
 in." 
 
 Brassy wheedled him, played with him, 
 tried to drive him to the acceptance of the 
 money, but Clem was firm. 
 
 Across the aisle a woman was trying to hush 
 a baby against her breast, but it would not 
 silence. At the continued crying the passengers 
 frowned and began to cast significant glances. 
 There were tears in the woman s eyes which 
 she wiped away with the back of her hand 
 without pretending to use a handkerchief ; red 
 rough hands they were, too. Reaching into a 
 worn frayed bag, she brought out a striped 
 rubber ball; only there weren t many stripes 
 left on it ; just splotches where the stripes had 
 been. 
 
 "Pretty ball!" she mumbled to the child. 
 "Nice pretty ball!" 
 
 The child s face drew up; it gave one cry 
 and then held its breath. The train rocked 
 and roared while the child s face grew tighter
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 211 
 
 and tighter. Then it gave way in one wild 
 scream. 
 
 A fat traveling man, with his tooth-brush 
 sticking out of his waistcoat pocket, rose, 
 dragged his sample cases off the rack, glow 
 ered at the mother and moved to the other 
 end of the car. 
 
 Brassy turned so that he faced the woman 
 and child. "What you going to do in Kansas 
 City?" he asked Clem, his eyes across the 
 aisles. 
 
 "I don t know; anything I can till I get 
 enough money to go home and be respectable." 
 
 Both dropped into silence. The baby began 
 to fret in the unmistakable manner of a sick 
 child. The splotched shapeless handful of rub 
 ber fell to the floor, and bouncing limply, 
 rolled under a seat. Brassy was down on his 
 knees and after it like a terrier. He put the 
 ball into the woman s knotted hands and 
 wiggled a fat finger at the child. Slowly the 
 child s hand went out and seized upon the fat 
 finger. Brassy wrinkled his nose like a rabbit 
 and hid his face behind a hairy hand. Sud-
 
 212 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 denly he barked like a dog and the child cooed 
 in glee. 
 
 Clem could not keep his eyes off Brassy. 
 There was a softness and kindness in his face 
 that he had never seen there before. The 
 woman began to talk, hesitatingly at first, then 
 gathering confidence, frankly. Clem withdrew 
 into another coach for an hour and when he 
 came back Brassy was sitting hunched down 
 in the plush, his hands heaped over his rotund 
 stomach. The baby was stretched out in a seat 
 asleep, under its head a pillow ; the mother sat 
 opposite, her eyes on her child and in her 
 face the light of new hope. 
 
 Brassy was strangely silent, sometimes 
 studying the woman s face, sometimes his gaze 
 bent on Clem. Clem had never known him so 
 quiet or so thoughtful; he marveled at the 
 change. 
 
 At last Brassy roused himself. "I get off at 
 the junction. I m going home if my wife ll 
 have me back. My daughter left when I turned 
 bad, but my wife has never given up hoping. 
 It s queer about wives, ain t it? I m going to
 
 AN OBLIGING CONSTABLE 213 
 
 sell hog remedies and while it ain t very ex 
 citing it s honest and nothing to be ashamed 
 of." 
 
 When the train stopped at the junction 
 Brassy fitted his hand into Clem s. "Keep your 
 eye on that woman and kid I gave them 
 everything I cleaned up this morning. The lit 
 tle thing looks an awful lot like the lion tamer 
 did when she was its size." 
 
 The hands closed again and Brassy dropped 
 off the step. The station slipped away into the 
 night and a switch-light that had been standing 
 sentinel beside the track turned and fled 
 after it.
 
 CHAPTER XIII 
 
 GETTING A JOB 
 
 UNSTOOPED by bag or baggage, Clem 
 wandered up the streets of the city alone. 
 It was not his world; everybody was in a 
 hurry, and nobody said good morning. 
 
 A janitor in a sweater was standing on a 
 rickety ladder, the top resting against the glass 
 of a window, washing and whistling away. 
 It was a wonder that the window didn t cave 
 in and send him sprawling through it, cutting 
 him all to gracious. 
 
 "Hadn t you better go a bit careful?" 
 
 "Used to it. Never had a fall in my life. 
 Where you from?" 
 
 How did he know that Clem didn t live in 
 the city? And when he was there so early in 
 the morning? 
 
 "From Curryville." 
 
 214
 
 GETTING A JOB 215 
 
 The man in the sweater shook his head, and 
 brought the rubber comber down in a long 
 sweep, the water flowing in front of it like a 
 mild river. "Where s that?" 
 
 "Nodaway County." 
 
 The man shook his head again. 
 
 "Do you know where I can get a rooming 
 house to live?" 
 
 The janitor finished another river. "Right 
 around the corner if you want beans in 
 stead of style. Not much on dog but the beans 
 is regular. Used to live there myself." 
 
 Clem eyed the man as if to give him a part 
 ing warning, then turned the corner. 
 
 There was the sign in all the colors of the 
 spectrum, some of the letters thin and per 
 pendicular, others fat and wavering. The 
 largest letters shouted: 
 
 HOTEL COMFORT 
 
 while another string of the same species, but 
 patently not of the same family, made it 
 known that beds were thirty-five cents a night,
 
 216 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 while good beds might be obtained for fifty 
 cents. Clem turned into Hotel Comfort 
 
 Backed across a corner out of the way was 
 the registering desk. Behind the desk a row 
 of empty key boxes opened hungry mouths. 
 On the wall William J. Bryan, our Peerless 
 Leader, in three colors and an autograph, 
 lurched heavily to his right as if trying to dis 
 cover if there was anything in the boxes. To 
 his right a farmer in high top boots, stood at 
 the corner of a plowed "land," a sombrero on 
 his head and a hand on his hip, watching his 
 thirteen-year-old son driving a four-color 
 harvester around a golden brown wheat field. 
 The title of the picture was, "A Boy Can Drive 
 It as Well as a Man." 
 
 Clem came clear up to the desk before he 
 saw any representative of Beds 35c Good 
 beds 5oc. She was bending over a book, one 
 ear in her hand, her tousled hair falling free. 
 Clem put his elbows on the desk and cleared 
 his throat. Evidently his grace was just 
 touching his lips to the tips of her ladyship s 
 long graceful fingers. Clem kicked his toe
 
 GETTING A JOB 217 
 
 against the desk, but the duke, overcome by 
 his emotions, had clasped Lady Lewellyn in 
 his strong arms and was kissing her tear- 
 stained face time after time, scarce knowing 
 what he was doing. 
 
 "Can I get board here for a while?" he 
 asked at last, ashamed to shatter the world of 
 romance by such an every-day sordid thing as 
 board. 
 
 The tousled head raised, a finger was fitted 
 where the kisses fell thickest and the book 
 closed on it. 
 
 "Was you speaking?" asked the girl. 
 
 "Can I get board here for a while ?" 
 
 "Meals?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Bed?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 With the finger still imprisoned the girl 
 reached under the counter, but the object of 
 her search was not forthcoming. "Tookie," 
 she called, "where s the day book?" 
 
 "In the readin room," came back a voice 
 from the kitchen.
 
 218 WHEN JO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 The girl stepped into a side room and was 
 back in a moment with a frayed ledger, full 
 of red cross lines, that was never meant to con 
 tain names. Clem untangled the pencil tied to 
 the register and poised it over the page. He 
 hesitated a moment, then wrote : "J. H. Craig, 
 Chicago, 111." 
 
 The girl whirled the book around and 
 studied the signature. Clem trembled and 
 turned his flushed face away; she had seen 
 through him. "I visited there last summer," 
 said the tousled one. "My aunt she s got an 
 automobile and you can t get in her house till 
 you ring two bells. Where bouts do you live?" 
 
 A hot flush ran over Clem. "You mean 
 when I m home?" fighting for time. 
 
 "Yes in Chicago." 
 
 "Oh, you mean when when I m home in 
 Chicago." 
 
 " Course." 
 
 "In in the western part. The street s 
 paved. What time is breakfast ready?" 
 
 "Six to seven-thirty. Tookie, show this gen 
 tleman to 17 and get a clean towel as you go
 
 GETTING A JOB 219 
 
 up." Dropping down behind the counter, she 
 flopped open the. book and fitted an ear into 
 her hand. His grace now had a chance to 
 come to a realization of what he was doing to 
 the tear-stained face. 
 
 When the door was pushed open Clem felt a 
 distinct shock. What would Hulda say if she 
 could see that room? A little weather-stained 
 window with panes no larger than your hand 
 let in a filter of light to expose the naked bare 
 ness of the four walls. A thin scuffed carpet 
 lay here and there on the floor with a large 
 gap in front of the bureau. The aperture in 
 the carpet looked as if, in shame, it had tried 
 to crawl under the bureau, but hadn t quite 
 succeeded. Ragged eyes stared out of the 
 wall-paper where furniture had been shifted 
 with more speed than care. In the corner op 
 posite stood a wash-stand, leaning weakly 
 against the wall for support; the basin was 
 half full of dirty water. A fragment of elusive 
 soap had slipped down to the floor. Three beds 
 jammed end to end stood at bay, like wild 
 creatures in a cave.
 
 220 WHEN TO LO.CK THE STABLE 
 
 Wouldn t Hulda make things fly if she could 
 get in that room for an hour? You wouldn t 
 know it. Nobody in Curryville could touch 
 her when it came to keeping things slick and 
 shining; everybody said so, and he wouldn t 
 be afraid to put her up against the whole state. 
 
 Clem picked up the soap, between forefinger 
 and thumb, drawing the corner of his mouth 
 into a shiver, and dropped the coated cake out 
 of sight behind the wash bowl. 
 
 "Is this a thirty-five cent room?" 
 
 "Un-hun," grunted Tookie, reaching into 
 his mouth and scratching a layer of sticky 
 candy off his teeth. 
 
 "What are the Good Rooms 5oc like?" 
 
 "Two beds." The last of the layer was off 
 and Tookie rolled it with satisfaction on his 
 tongue. 
 
 Clem mentally calculated: this room was 
 probably only a third worse and that was a 
 clear saving of fifteen cents a day. 
 
 Tookie understood the hesitancy. He pulled 
 his teeth apart with a plop: "But I hain t got 
 the keys they re down-stairs."
 
 GETTING A JOB 221 
 
 Tookie swung on the door-knob, pushing 
 back his red hair with his free hand. "I came 
 purty near making some money out of this 
 room once," he said suddenly without con 
 nection. "A lot of it." 
 
 It was plain what Tookie wanted. Clem was 
 thinking and it was half a minute before he 
 brought himself around to ask, "How was 
 that?" 
 
 "Sidna Allen slept here one night," declared 
 Tookie, then chewed a moment before finish 
 ing, "and there was a reward on his head all 
 the time. I didn t know who it was till a week 
 later, but I seen him and talked to him. I kind 
 of suspicioned it might a been him the quick 
 way he could move his hands draw a gun 
 quicker n a wink like that! only quicker. 
 He didn t say much, but his eyes could just 
 look a hole through you. You know, I m going 
 to be a policeman. A policeman gets to carry a 
 gun all the time. I got an uncle that is a police 
 man and he has an ivory handled gun. But 
 that don t make em shoot any straighter. One 
 time he was cleaning it and it went off and
 
 222 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 shot a hole in the baby buggy." Tookie reached 
 in with thumb and forefinger and pulled the 
 candy loose from his teeth. Then he added as 
 an afterthought, and as if it was too bad that 
 things had turned out that way. "But the baby 
 wasn t in it." 
 
 Tookie had a listener and that was all he 
 wanted. His mind leaped from subject to sub 
 ject with startling rapidity. "A policeman can 
 save lots of money because they get to ride on 
 street-cars free of charge. Once there was a 
 man killed in here had his throat cut. The 
 blood leaked clear through the floor. You can 
 see the marks on the ceiling in the room below 
 yet want to go down and see it? He had the 
 bed you re sleeping in now. He was about 
 your size, too. If you want your clothes 
 pressed I ll take them down for you." 
 
 Clem smiled bitterly he was glad that he 
 even had clothes to wear. Clem sat down on 
 the bed leaked clear through the floor, he 
 could not help remembering to think for a 
 moment.
 
 GETTING A JOB 223 
 
 "Drinkin water at the end of the hall," said 
 Tookie. Then the door closed and Clem was 
 alone. 
 
 Many things had happened since the night 
 he had started to the Owl Drug Store, after the 
 sleeping powders. He had suffered much and 
 evidently the end was not yet; had suffered 
 much on account of his foolishness; suffered 
 because he wanted to be a hero and because he 
 had not appreciated his home the nicest 
 cleanest home in all the world. 
 
 To-day was Tuesday, and about this time 
 in the morning Hulda would be baking and 
 probably this minute she was scraping the 
 dough-board. Then she would go over it with 
 a damp rag and put it out on the shelf to sun. 
 Mrs. Kiggins would run over for a minute 
 with a couple of roasting-ears. How Hulda 
 could fix corn on the cob. She never left any 
 of the silk on the way Mrs. Knabb did. 
 
 What was Miss Mendenhall doing? Was 
 she sitting at the window on the second floor, 
 writing? Had she ever thought of him since
 
 224 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 he left ? Of course she hadn t. She was so far 
 above him but he just couldn t help thinking 
 of her. 
 
 What had he got out of it all? The answer 
 nothing. But he couldn t go back until he 
 had earned enough money to buy some clothes 
 and a railroad ticket, so that Hulda would not 
 be ashamed. He was further away from being 
 a hero than ever before. He would have 
 enough to live down coming back as respect 
 ably as he could. 
 
 This wouldn t get him anywhere and every 
 minute was valuable and every minute in a 
 city costs money. He hurried down-stairs and 
 was passing through the front office when 
 some one called out, "Key!" 
 
 The girl with the tousled head had risen and 
 was resting her elbows on the counter, one 
 ringer on the duke who had drawn his glitter 
 ing blade and was ready to defend the poor 
 unfortunate Lady Lewellyn with his very life. 
 
 "Leave your key," she said without raising 
 her eyes. 
 
 Clem dropped his key on the counter and
 
 GETTING A JOB 225 
 
 left his grace to fight it out alone. He wan 
 dered out into the street, uncertain which way 
 to go, where to turn, looking for work. Pedes 
 trians hurried by, always gazing at something 
 away on ahead and never quite catching up 
 with it. 
 
 A bulletin-board stood straddled on the side 
 walk at the foot of a stairway. According to 
 signs chalked in three colors on its black sur 
 face the whole world was needing help; was 
 crying for it and couldn t possibly get along 
 more than a few hours more without an army 
 of recruits. Carpenters, bricklayers and paper- 
 hangers were in special demand, while cabinet 
 makers, butlers and copper workers were 
 urged to come in and do what they could to 
 stem the tide of demand. 
 
 Clem went up the wooden steps and stood 
 before a large woman with paper cuffs and a 
 pencil in her hair. What s y r line?" she de 
 manded, reaching for the pencil anchored in 
 the marcels. 
 
 Clem hesitated. At Curryville he was cap 
 tain and chief of the fire department, caretaker
 
 226 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 of the Methodist church, owned lots in the 
 Bellows Bottom, had been secretary of the 
 Poland China Association for two years and 
 had carried rural mail, but when this question 
 was thrust at him he realized suddenly and 
 sadly that he didn t have any line. 
 
 "I m good at general all-round work," he 
 said hesitatingly. 
 
 "But what s y r line?" the large woman de 
 manded, as if saying, "Another of them thick 
 heads. Ain t we had a lot of em to-day?" 
 
 "I guess it s the fire department." 
 
 "Y* have to take an examination and wait 
 for an appointment in that," the large woman 
 explained wearily, rotating the paper cuffs. "If 
 you enroll with us it s five dollars and ten per 
 cent, the first month." 
 
 Clem did not have the money to enroll. 
 
 "I guess I ll just look around a little by my 
 self," he said, turning toward the stairs. 
 
 The woman rattled her cuffs and smiled 
 with a large air of superiority. "Come back 
 when you want to go to work," she called, 
 scratching her head with the pencil.
 
 GETTING A JOB 227 
 
 People seemed in more of a hurry than be 
 fore and whatever it was they were looking at 
 was farther away than ever. 
 
 A bell rang and wheels jarred and rattled. 
 A woman screamed and somebody jerked Clem 
 off his feet. "Look alive, man!" exclaimed a 
 voice in his ear. "Keep your wits about you 
 or you ll be ground into mincemeat. That car 
 just barely missed you." 
 
 The conductor came running back, note-book 
 in hand, to ask if he had been hurt, and when 
 he found that he wasn t, he grumbled some 
 thing as if disappointed and turned back to his 
 car. The crowd thinned and Clem picked his 
 way up the street, watching nervously on all 
 sides. 
 
 He had only gone a block when he stopped 
 short with an idea. But how could he go about 
 carrying it out? A city is such a hard place in 
 which to get around. Waving a passing car, he 
 got on and paid his fare. The conductor was 
 young and had a kindly face. Clem started to 
 speak to him twice before mustering his cour 
 age.
 
 228 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Where does a fellow get a job being con 
 ductor?" 
 
 The street-car man ran his eye over him. 
 "You don t want to be a con. It s a dog s life, 
 take it from me. Y hear what that woman 
 said to me back there ? Going to report me be 
 cause the car started with a jerk and bumped 
 her elbow. Stick to your old job whatever 
 it is." 
 
 "I hain t got any job." 
 
 "Well, if you just must have a car go up 
 to the barn, room 121, and get your specifi 
 cations taken. Stick on here and I ll transfer 
 you over." 
 
 Clem hurried to room 121. Around it was 
 a railing and behind the counter a man to ask 
 questions. After Clem had answered the ques 
 tions on the long sheet of paper, he stood up 
 against the wall and the man balanced a ruler 
 on his head and marked down his height. 
 
 "How soon can I go to work?" asked Clem. 
 
 The man explained that he would be put in 
 the school and a breaker-in sent out with him. 
 Much would depend on the report of the
 
 GETTING A JOB 229 
 
 breaker-in. Of course he had to furnish his 
 own uniform, which would cost twelve dollars, 
 and probably in a week he could be given a 
 run, then at the end of the week he would 
 get his salary. Take this slip and report this 
 afternoon for measuring. 
 
 Clem folded the slip and went out. "You 
 have to be a capitalist before you can become a 
 street-car conductor," said Clem grimly, and 
 tore up the slip. 
 
 He kept on the same side of the street; 
 crossing the car tracks was dangerous. You 
 could never tell when you were going to be 
 ground into mincemeat. 
 
 At last he found a park seat and pushed 
 back into its luxury. 
 
 Getting a foothold in the city was harder 
 than he had ever imagined. If you were not 
 trained to do one thing there was no place 
 for you; cogs only were wanted. It would be 
 much easier to go back to Curryville and slip 
 in the back way, without word of explanation, 
 but Clem squared his jaw at the temptation 
 and said more determinedly than ever that he
 
 230 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 would not go back until he could appear un 
 ashamed. 
 
 A newspaper flapped against his feet. He 
 picked it up and ran his eye idly down the 
 column. It was opened on the Help Wanted 
 page. It seemed that everybody in the city 
 needed help, and yet he was a round peg. Peo 
 ple to sell things were most in demand. He 
 found that if he knew the paint and color 
 trade, had had exceptionally wide experience, 
 understood retailing, was able to sell a first- 
 class article at a fair price to jobbers and con 
 sumers, was a convincing talker, even though 
 not what you might call fluent, could put up a 
 natty appearance, had a pleasing personality 
 and an agreeable manner and could bring with 
 him some customers he could get twelve dol 
 lars a week from Bibstein & Brother, third 
 floor. Clem decided that since his experience 
 had been entirely local and since he was not up 
 on retailing and would not know a jobber from 
 a consumer if he met him on the street, and 
 that since he was handicapped by not having 
 the slightest idea what the paint and color
 
 GETTING A JOB 231 
 
 trade was, he would not accept the stipend of 
 fered by Bibstein & Brother, third floor. 
 
 The advertisements started off all right, but 
 somewhere in them he always found a set 
 back. The Ideal Corrugated Box-Board Com 
 pany simply must have an assistant general 
 manager at once. They had been looking 
 around for the right man for some time, but 
 a live wire had not been found. The assistant 
 general manager must be honest, upright and a 
 hustler. That was all that was required of 
 him. Previous experience wasn t necessary, 
 but if the applicant had had experience all the 
 better; still if you were honest and willing to 
 hustle you might overcome the slight draw 
 back of lack of familiarity with the corrugated 
 box-board business. Clem straightened up with 
 interest. It was true that he had never before 
 heard of the corrugated box-board business, but 
 he was certainly honest, upright and would 
 hustle from morning till night, and with such 
 qualifications in his favor it wouldn t take him 
 long to pick up the business. Then the last 
 line caught his attention: "To such a man we
 
 232 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 will pay a small salary from the first, provid 
 ing he will put $3,000 into the business. Ex 
 ceptional opportunity for the right man." 
 
 Clem sank back and his face dropped. No 
 doubt it was an exceptional opportunity, but 
 smiling grimly he decided not to apply. Op 
 portunity would have to knock unheeded. 
 
 He was crumpling up the paper to toss it 
 aside when another advertisement caught his 
 eye: "WANTED Man to demonstrate pat 
 ent fire-escape belts; they make escape from a 
 burning building easy. Exceptional oppor 
 tunity for the right man The Railey Fire-Es 
 cape Belt Company, Surety Trust Building." 
 
 Clem read it carefully again. That was along 
 his line and who should be better fitted to 
 demonstrate a fire belt than himself a fire 
 chief? The idea interested him and aroused 
 his enthusiasm. But there was one thing about 
 it he didn t like: he had begun to be wary of 
 "an exceptional opportunity for the right 
 man." 
 
 He ragged out the clipping and hurried to 
 the address given. Stuffed in the corner of
 
 GETTING A JOB 233 
 
 one of the upper halls was the room, cower 
 ing there as if ready to put on a belt and leap 
 out the window. A tall man with a long coat 
 and a sad air rose to meet him. 
 
 "Are you the right man looking for an ex 
 ceptional opportunity ?" he asked sadly. 
 
 "Yes," admitted Clem. 
 
 The sad man waved him to a chair and 
 studied him for a minute. "Do you realize," 
 he asked with the sorrow of the world in his 
 voice, "that fire destroys more lives each year 
 than any other agent in the world outside of 
 sickness? Hundreds are hanged, thousands go 
 down in the ocean, but tens of thousands are 
 swept off this earth each year by the most hor 
 rible death known fire. Perhaps you have 
 had some loved one snatched out of your arms 
 into the jaws of this terrible monster ; perhaps 
 you have had a brother, sister or sweetheart 
 perish just beyond your finger-tips for the lack 
 of a safety belt. It was given to me to do 
 something for the world; the gift came in the 
 form of an invention the Railey Fire-Es 
 cape and now I am selling this marvelous de*
 
 234 .WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 vice for a startlingly low sum that other people 
 may not have wives and daughters and sweet 
 hearts perish before their eyes. When man 
 mastered fire he rose above the animals; but 
 fire has always been a surly servant and still 
 strikes back, cruelly, relentlessly. There is only 
 one escape from it the Railey Belt. You are 
 acquainted with the workings of this marvel 
 ous mechanism, no doubt?" his voice rising 
 sadly. 
 
 Clem shook his head, while Mr. Railey lifted 
 a surprised brow. 
 
 Mr. Railey rose, spread the skirts of his 
 coat and drew down a canvas belt with a heavy 
 buckle. 
 
 "This is the gift that came to me in a dream. 
 I saw it all in a flash, arose and drew the plans 
 for it before I lay down again. Oh, if you 
 could see the countless letters I have here from 
 people all over the world have you got that 
 one, Minnie, from Tasmania, where the 
 brother said it saved his whole family? 
 thanking me from the depths of his heart for 
 his own life and the lives of his loved ones. I
 
 GETTING A JOB 235 
 
 studied for the ministry, but saving people 
 from burning office buildings, factories, homes, 
 houses and hotels is just as noble as saving 
 them from the lake of everlasting fire. See 
 how easily it is adjusted." 
 
 Seizing Clem by the shoulder he pivoted him 
 on his heel and swung the belt around his 
 waist. 
 
 "There, it s on. Strong as a cable and light 
 as a feather. Unhook this bottle of fire liquid, 
 break it and it gives you, in crawling toward 
 the window, hydrogen to live on and keeps the 
 smoke and flames out of your lungs until you 
 can get to the open air. Then throw this hook 
 around the head of the bed, or fasten it to the 
 casing of the window and slide down this thin 
 steel wire to safety, regulating your speed with 
 this lever control. A grandfather is safe and a 
 child can operate it. Here, let me show you. 
 I hook it under the casing, now crawl out that 
 window and see how easily it works !" 
 
 Mr. Railey in his enthusiasm was pushing 
 Clem toward the open window. 
 
 "I see how it works perfectly," insisted
 
 236 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem. "Besides it makes me dizzy to hang 
 out." 
 
 Mr. Railey put the belt away a bit sadly, 
 showing plainly by his manner that he was dis 
 appointed that Clem had not demonstrated its 
 wonderful life-saving qualities. 
 
 "Adjusted in six seconds and will support 
 three people," said Mr. Railey, as if quoting 
 from a circular. "May be kept in a desk or 
 under a bookcase and if hung on the wall 
 makes an attractive ornament. Can not burn 
 or drop when you are half-way down; no cork 
 to become rotten; can be adjusted with one 
 hand while holding a loved one in the other. 
 The only belt on the market where two or 
 more can escape from the devouring flames at 
 the same time. A complete diagram explaining 
 its adjustment and uses accompanies each belt. 
 You may not need it to-morrow, but sometime 
 you will; sooner or later your life may depend 
 on the Railey Fire-Escape Belt. Special rates 
 for orders of more than a dozen. Now Mr. " 
 
 "Craig" 
 
 " Mr. Craig, do you think you would like
 
 GETTING A JOB 237 
 
 to come in and be one of our great organiza 
 tion for dispensing this useful device among 
 the people of this city? It is a worthy cause, 
 an occupation in which you can lift up your 
 head, for the lives of some of these very peo 
 ple may hang on you." 
 
 Clem glanced around as if trying to discover 
 the great organization for dispensing the use 
 ful device. 
 
 "We have our agents in every state and ter 
 ritory. This morning at eight o clock repre 
 sentatives went out in every large city in the 
 land, including Cuba and Canada, to bear to 
 the unthinking people of this world the mes 
 sage of the Railey Fire-Escape Belt that you 
 owe it to your loved ones to protect yourself. 
 Selling the Railey Fire-Escape Belt is a broad 
 ening occupation; in it you meet the best and 
 most capable men in the business world. You 
 sit down after making a sale and chat with 
 them about business and the affairs of the 
 world." He lifted up a hand as if to forestall 
 any interrogation. "Not if you tell them that 
 they owe it to their loved ones."
 
 238 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "How much wages is there?" asked Clem, 
 thinking more about himself than the peril of 
 his loved ones. 
 
 "Ah, there is where we are different," ex 
 claimed the great benefactor and inventor. 
 "We teach you an occupation and actually pay 
 you while being taught. You get forty per 
 cent, on every sale made, which leaves only 
 sixty per cent, to me for inventing and manu 
 facturing the belt." Mr. Railey sighed and 
 dropped his voice until a person could see that 
 money was the last thing he was thinking of 
 so long as the Railey Fire-Escape Belt was car 
 ried to the loved ones. 
 
 "This booklet, What to Say to a Prospec 
 tive Customer, is a course in salesmanship. 
 It tells how to prepare the mind of the 
 prospective customer, how to fasten his 
 attention, how to meet and overcome his ob 
 jections, how to be affable, when to be firm, 
 and how to clench the sale. It contains valuable 
 pointers on how to carry on an entertaining 
 conversation, how to dress and how to deport 
 yourself as a gentleman. I have dozens of let-
 
 GETTING A JOB 239 
 
 ters where is that one, Minnie, from the man 
 in New Zealand ? saying that this book, with 
 the training one gets in meeting the world, is 
 equal to a college education. All the time you 
 are working at this you may know that you 
 are doing something that the Good Book com 
 manded you to do, for does not Jude, brother 
 of James, say, And others save with fear, 
 pulling them out of the fire ? Every time you 
 sell a Railey Fire-Escape Belt you may know 
 that you have pulled some one out of the fire. 
 In a quiet unassuming way you are a hero." 
 
 Clem straightened up; he hadn t thought of 
 it in just that light before. Hypnotized by the 
 flowing words of the inventor he was saying, 
 before he realized it, that he would accept the 
 place and that he would take What to Say to 
 a Prospective Customer home with him, study 
 it and be around in the morning to go out and 
 get his college training. 
 
 Selling the famous belt was hard work 
 even after he had mastered "What to Say," 
 and committed the answers to the questions. 
 People did have a way of asking questions
 
 240 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 that were not in the book. Clem tramped from 
 office building to office building, trying to 
 prove to the poor benighted workers that their 
 loved ones were not sufficiently protected by 
 the outside iron fire-escapes, demonstrating 
 that the Railey Fire Belt could be adjusted 
 with one hand, that it would support three peo 
 ple with perfect safety and that hanging on 
 the wall it was an ornament to any office, 
 home, house or hotel. 
 
 Slowly his money accumulated and in his 
 trampings he had seen in a shop-window just 
 the suit of clothes he wanted. Hulda always 
 liked blue with a white stripe. He would buy a 
 genuine Panama, too, with the genuineness 
 stamped in the leather lining and he would 
 get one of those traveling-bags that buckled 
 away over on the side. 
 
 He came into his hotel tired and worn. The 
 boy was still driving the four-color harvester 
 around the golden brown wheat field and Wil 
 liam J. Bryan, our Peerless Leader, kept his 
 gaze unwaveringly on the key box. 
 
 Clem dropped on his bed where the man
 
 GETTING A JOB 241 
 
 had had his throat cut, and was just slipping 
 into a doze when there was a knock. 
 
 "Brought you a clean towel," said Tookie, 
 entering. 
 
 Instead of throwing it over the top of the 
 little wash-stand, Tookie handed it to Clem. 
 
 "You got blue eyes, hain t you?" fired 
 Tookie suddenly. 
 
 "Yes, I guess so. Why?" 
 
 "NothinV Do you believe that after a per 
 son has committed a crime they like to come 
 back and hang around the place where the 
 heinous deed was committed?" 
 
 "I don t know," returned Clem wearily, 
 leaning back against the wall. 
 
 "That s what it says in the papers about 
 criminals. I always read about mysterious 
 murders a policeman s got to do it. A police 
 man gets to eat bananas and peaches off a ped- 
 ler s cart free of charge. 
 
 "I m always on the lookout for the fellow 
 to come back that cut that man s throat in 
 your bed. The blood leaked clear through the 
 floor. You can t never get blood stains out. I
 
 242 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 could trade for an automatic revolver if I 
 wanted to. Mine s a six-cylinder, but you have 
 to pull for every barrel. You re about five feet, 
 ten, ain t you?" 
 
 Clem shifted his knees uneasily and ad 
 mitted that he was. 
 
 "There s another fatal fascination, too. 
 They want to carry something around to re 
 mind them of the murder. Sometimes it s a 
 collar button, sometimes it s a lock of hair and 
 sometimes it s a newspaper clippin describin 
 how the heinous deed was committed. If you 
 want anything, go out to the button in the hall 
 and ring." 
 
 Tookie pulled the door behind him; Clem 
 dropped back on his elbow. Things were stir 
 ring in his head. What did the boy mean ? He 
 felt in his pocket and caught his breath. Care 
 fully he ran through old letters, clippings and 
 scraps of paper, crumpled and soiled. He had 
 lost the clipping about the mysterious murder 
 that Brassy had found in the Harrison paper, 
 with a description of himself and an announce 
 ment of the reward !
 
 GETTING A 1 JOB 243 
 
 A knuckle rattled on the door and Tookie s 
 high voice called out: "Mr. Pointer Mr. 
 Pointer" 
 
 "Yes," answered Clem quickly, then gasped 
 with an audible intake of breath. 
 
 "Telephone call." Tookie s head appeared 
 inside the door. "Oh, it s you, Mr. Craig. 
 Your room mate hasn t got back yet, has he? 
 If he comes up-stairs without anybody seeing 
 him will you tell him there was a call for him ? 
 Don t be afraid to ring if you need me Mr. 
 Craig." 
 
 When the door closed Clem found himself 
 breathing hard. He was discovered. The bit 
 terness of it forced itself in on him. He was 
 trying to earn a few honest dollars so that he 
 could go back home and now they were ready 
 to swoop down on him for the reward, alive 
 or dead. He could rush to Curryville ahead of 
 them except that he didn t have the money for 
 car fare and he wouldn t go back until he could 
 return with high head. 
 
 One thing certain, he must escape at once. 
 
 Gathering his hat he crept down the stairs
 
 244 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 as quietly as he could, pausing on every land 
 ing and listening. From the last landing he 
 could see the tousled head still bending over 
 the distressed lady. A step at a time he edged 
 down the last flight and turned into the bath 
 room. From here he reconnoitered a moment, 
 then tiptoed toward the side door. 
 
 A figure came in the side door, looming 
 ahead of him. 
 
 "Upon my blazing soul," exclaimed the 
 man, rushing at him with extended hands. 
 "By jooks ! the goldfish need a bath if it ain t 
 my old college chum of the calaboose, Clem 
 Pointer!" 
 
 It was Brassy. 
 
 Clem drew back, working his fingers nerv 
 ously, and felt for the wall as if for support. 
 "Hist !" sounded Clem, clapping a finger to his 
 lips. 
 
 Brassy felt for Clem s hand and pumped it 
 vigorously. "Beat my grandmother with a 
 broom handle, but I m glad to see you ! Ain t it 
 luck, both of us coming here to the Waldorf 
 Astoria together!"
 
 GETTING A JOB 245 
 
 Before Clem could edge in a word a voice 
 sounded behind him. "Move at the peril of 
 your life !" It was Tookie, and in his hand was 
 a six-cylinder revolver that had to be pulled for 
 every barrel.
 
 CHAPTER XIV 
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 
 
 Tookie crept up on Clem until the 
 barrel was within a few inches of his 
 face. "So, my man, you were trying to slip out, 
 was you?" asked Tookie in the tones that the 
 papers quoted policemen as using on such oc 
 casions. "You would try to trick me, try to 
 foil the law, would you? C. L. Pointer, you 
 will pay the penalty. Move and I ll send this 
 bullet crushing through your craven skull. 
 Move at peril of your life." 
 
 "Say," exclaimed Brassy, "be careful of that 
 thing it might go off!" 
 
 Tookie rolled the weapon till it hung half 
 way between the two. "Who are you to inter 
 fere with the law? Perhaps you are an ac 
 complice of this desperate outlaw on whose 
 head a reward is set. Ah, perhaps I have 
 246
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 247 
 
 come upon a den! Up against the wall, both 
 of you; hands up! The first that moves is 
 a dead man." 
 
 Clem fitted his shoulders to the wall. 
 
 "By jooks!" broke in Brassy. "Of course 
 this is none of my party, but may I make bold 
 enough to inquire what all this is about?" 
 
 "Against the wall, my man!" commanded 
 Tookie in his "deepest tones. 
 
 Brassy squared his shoulders against the 
 wall and reluctantly raised his hands. 
 
 "Kind sir," pleaded Brassy, "would you 
 mind giving me some of the details? This is 
 kind of sudden, you know. If you want to 
 frisk me let me put down my mitts and I ll do 
 all I can to help the cause along. If you can 
 get anything out of my pockets you ll be put 
 ting one over on yours truly. Do you work 
 this section regularly?" 
 
 "I m a representative of the law," exclaimed 
 Tookie, "and there is a reward for this man, 
 dead or alive. Like all criminals he carried 
 something to remind him of it. I found the 
 clipping this morning that told all about it."
 
 248 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 A light of understanding ran through 
 Brassy s mind. "Oh, I see. You re holding 
 this gentleman up and were going to take him 
 back and I happened along and you stuck me 
 up for good measure." 
 
 "Wasn t you talking with him?" 
 
 "Sure, I was. Oh, say, bo, that s one on 
 you!" an idea leaping into Brassy s mind. 
 "You got my man. I have been shadowing 
 him for two weeks. I flushed him first at Har 
 rison and have been on his trail ever since. I 
 hadn t closed up on him, as I wanted to see if 
 he had an accomplice in this city. Now, ain t it 
 a coincidence you sticking up my man ?" 
 
 Tookie s gun began to sag. "Are you a de 
 tective?" he asked, his eyes widening. 
 
 "Just look at that !" putting his tongue in his 
 left cheek. 
 
 "What does that mean?" 
 
 "It s the sign so detectives ll know one 
 another. When it s in a dark room and where 
 they can t see one another they do it by touch 
 I ll show you." 
 
 Tookie lowered his weapon hesitatingly and
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 249 
 
 extended an unarmed hand. Brassy turned his 
 back to Clem so that he could not see the sign 
 and pressed the tips of two fingers on the back 
 of Tookie s hand. "What part of the law do 
 you represent?" asked Brassy. 
 
 "Well, I ain t really any of it yet, but I am 
 studying to be a policeman. Policemen make 
 lots of money and get to ride on street-cars 
 free of charge." 
 
 Brassy s face became serious and he tapped 
 his forehead with a ringer, turning some grave 
 problem over. "Have you got a license for 
 carrying that?" asked Brassy, nodding toward 
 the sagging revolver. 
 
 Tookie shook his head, coloring deeply. 
 
 Brassy bit his lips thoughtfully, and beck 
 oned the young officer of the law to step into 
 the bathroom. The two stepped inside, while 
 Clem sat down wondering what Brassy was up 
 to. When the two came back Tookie s six- 
 cylinder agent of destruction, that had to be 
 pulled for every barrel, was out of sight. 
 Tookie s eyes followed Brassy eagerly and ad 
 miringly.
 
 250 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "I can see now how your eyes bore right 
 through people," breathed Tookie. "How 
 many people have you killed, Mr. Pinkerton ?" 
 
 "Oh, I don t know," returned Brassy with 
 modesty. "Never a single one unless I just 
 had to. There s generally some way of getting 
 around it. The best sleuths don t do it unless 
 they re driven to it." 
 
 "I saw them taking finger-marks once. Do 
 you think I would make a good policeman?" 
 
 Brassy turned his boring eyes upon Tookie. 
 They ran up and down Tookie, taking in the 
 smallest detail of his dress, analyzing his face, 
 feature by feature. They took in the width be 
 tween his eyes, the thickness of his thumb 
 everything. Then Brassy asked an anxious 
 question : 
 
 "Can you remember faces?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Tookie quickly. "I can see 
 a man once and I d know him if I didn t see 
 him again for forty years." 
 
 "Are you afraid to go out alone at night ?" 
 
 "No, I ain t afraid at all. Nothing scares
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 251 
 
 me. Once there was a man murdered here and 
 the blood soaked clear through the floor. I 
 wasn t afraid to look at it. Would you like to 
 come up and see where it soaked through ?" 
 
 Brassy thought that he could get along with 
 out this choice experience, as he had seen so 
 much gore spilled that it had sort of lost its 
 attraction for him. However, he appreciated 
 his friend s thought fulness in mentioning it 
 and his kindness in offering to show it. 
 
 "You seem to have every qualification neces 
 sary," said Brassy thoughtfully, "to become a 
 well-known policeman. But there is one very 
 important thing that I have not asked you. 
 Much depends on your answer. This is it: Can 
 you keep a secret? If the chief of police tells 
 you that a gang is planning a bank robbery, 
 for instance, and details you to keep your eye 
 open for suspicious characters hanging around 
 the bank before the deed is committed, could 
 you keep all that a secret until after everything 
 was over?" 
 
 "Yes, sir," returned Tookie eagerly. "You
 
 252 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 could not get a word out of me if I was told 
 not to tell. In school I wouldn t ever tell the 
 teacher anything." 
 
 Brassy s face lit up hopefully, every feature 
 showing satisfaction that Tookie had come 
 through the grilling test satisfactorily. "Well, 
 I am goin to try you out. If you pull through 
 this you ought to make a lieutenant. A lieu 
 tenant gets to go to the shows free of charge, 
 you know. It s lots better to be a lieutenant 
 of police. Now I m goin to put you to the test. 
 If you keep this secret successfully I ll recom 
 mend you myself." Brassy paused and looked 
 at Tookie for a long moment, then asked im 
 pressively, "Do you know what it means to 
 be recommended by me?" 
 
 Tookie jerked his head back and forth at 
 prospect of the great honor. 
 
 "Here is a secret for you to keep. Don t 
 say a word about me catchin this man for a 
 week a week from to-night five forty-six. I 
 don t want the public to know about it until 
 the blotter has been made out. You under 
 stand about the blotter, don t you?"
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 253 
 
 "Yes," hesitated Tookie, hating to admit 
 that a person so well qualified for police work 
 should not know all about the blotter, and why 
 he should not breathe a word about it to any 
 living human for a week. 
 
 Brassy made an excuse to go behind the 
 budding lieutenant and gave Clem a giant 
 wink. 
 
 "Now, I will take my catch down to quart 
 ers, and put him in the third-degree room for 
 a while. Glad to know you see you to-mor 
 row." 
 
 Tookie thrilled to the touch of two finger 
 tips on the back of his hand, and stood with 
 his nose pressed against the screen as prisoner 
 and detective walked off down the street. 
 
 "Gee!" he breathed, "think of getting into 
 all the shows, too." 
 
 "Pinch me, pinch me!" exclaimed Brassy, 
 as soon as they were out of hearing. "At first 
 you didn t recognize Mr. Hagan, late of the 
 Harrison calaboose, in the role of William J. 
 Burns, did you? Little did you dream when 
 we first met in the side-door Pullman that I
 
 254 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 was the esteemed Mr. Pinkerton travelin in 
 disguise. Can I trust you with a secret? I was 
 not. I repeat it, pinch me, pinch me! Before 
 I throw my arms around your shoulders for 
 pure government test, bottled-in-bond joy and 
 make a scene here on the street, tell me what 
 you re doing." 
 
 "I m working and saving up my money," re 
 plied the late outlaw. 
 
 "At what?" 
 
 "I m selling the Railey Fire-Escape Belt," 
 answered Clem, dropping his head. 
 
 "The what? Pinch me, pinch me! Maybe 
 after all I stepped in too quick ahead of the 
 lieutenant. I m sorry if I have interfered with 
 the course of the law. If I hadn t cut it strictly 
 out I d come around and get a few pointers, 
 but them days are all over for me now. I went 
 home and the thread of hope is still unbroken. 
 The girl s gone but my wife still believes in 
 me and by a gnat s heel she s not going to be 
 disappointed." Real earnestness lay under the 
 light words.
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 255 
 
 "How in the world do you come to be here?" 
 Clem put in at the first chance. 
 
 "I hadn t any more n lit on the sweetest spot 
 in the world the climbing vines are all over 
 the front porch now than I got word to come 
 down here and spend a few days in the factory 
 learning how the Universal Hog Medicine is 
 made and take the regular course of training 
 for salesmen. Before me hogs ll be layin 
 around in droves, no color in their eyes, their 
 foreheads feverish and no pulse to speak of; 
 as quick as I pass by with that sovereign 
 remedy the Universal Hog Cholera Cure 
 the poor creatures will spring to their feet, all 
 energy and ambition, a new light in their eyes, 
 their pulses leaping with the blood of youth, 
 determined to live on and weigh in at three 
 fifty. 
 
 "What is the backbone of our country? 
 The answer is hogs. Also the side-meat, but 
 passing over that, did you ever stop to think 
 about a million of poor pigs born in this 
 country every year and of how few of them
 
 256 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 reach maturity? The poor little creatures are 
 full of the zest of living at first ; they bounce 
 up and whirl around on their four little pins, 
 nibble one another s ears and punch their pa 
 tient parent in the abdomen with their little 
 pink noses, enjoying every breath. Then one 
 day a shadow comes into their lives. One of 
 the happy family loses its appetite; the sight 
 of the others all lined up, their thin tongues 
 out getting their supper, turns its stomach. 
 The light dies in its eyes and it refuses to play 
 and romp with its merry brothers and sisters. 
 Its nose becomes stopped up ; a low dry cough 
 sets in and its flanks sag in like a carpet on the 
 line. 
 
 "Then one day two of its brothers in 
 romping stumble over its cold body; not 
 knowing what to make of it they rush to their 
 mother. She colors and gasps and leads them 
 rapidly away in the opposite direction. The 
 following day another one of the happy group 
 begins to cough and one by one they are car 
 ried away, till at last the mother is alone in 
 the world, grief-stricken and childless. Nothing
 
 THE THIRD DEGREE 257 
 
 has been done to keep the loved ones at her 
 side; she sticks her nose in the dust on the 
 south side of the pen, fills her lungs time after 
 time till at last she a broken-hearted suicide 
 follows her offspring to that bourne from 
 which no pig ever returns. Now, is it not 
 a noble mission to bear to the suffering world 
 that peerless compound, the Universal Hog 
 Cholera Cure, nature s own remedy, made 
 from herbs, roots and extractions, containing 
 no poison, prussic acid or antimony, large size 
 one dollar, small fifty cents?" 
 
 Clem gathered from the few grains in the 
 verbal chaff that Brassy was taking the course 
 of training for salesmen and that he had really 
 given up the old life. 
 
 "Where ll we stay to-night ?" asked Clem. 
 
 "I don t feel anything calling me back there, 
 do you? If your bed was like mine you 
 won t wake up in the night and cry for it. Did 
 you leave any of your jew lry?" 
 
 "All of it, I reckon, since I haven t got it 
 with me," returned Clem. 
 
 "We ll not show up there again. One thing
 
 258 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 certain, and that is the young sleuth won t 
 breathe a word about it for a week and then 
 we ll be safe." 
 
 Together they found a hotel for the night. 
 
 "They re going to send me out on the road 
 to-morrow to sell Nature s Own Remedy," 
 said Brassy, as they hung their coats over the 
 backs of chairs, and piled into bed. "I don t 
 know where I ll land first some forsaken 
 hole, I suppose. But anyway, it s on the square 
 and that s the routing for me from now on. 
 Say, bo, don t it seem queer for us to be turn 
 ing in together without Gib, the trusted turn 
 key? I d like to go back and sell him a car 
 load of Universal!"
 
 CHAPTER XV 
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 
 
 MRS. Kiggins had dropped in to see Hulda. 
 She had run in the back way, for on bak 
 ing morning there is nothing worse than to 
 have parlor company. 
 
 "Take that chair there," said Hulda, waving 
 her elbow toward a chair whose seat had been 
 made by the weaving and interweaving of 
 leather boot-tops cut into strips the width of an 
 apple peeling. "It s gettin kind of rickety 
 since Clem joined the great majority. He was 
 layin out to fix it, but hadn t got around to 
 it. He could fix anything. Handiest man 
 around the house I ever saw. It s terrible the 
 way I get this crust now. The handle s been 
 off this rolling pin for a week and I get every 
 thing wobsidled. Clem could fix it in a minute. 
 One thing I m doing he would like, I know, 
 259
 
 260 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 and that is keeping Garibaldi for him. I hated 
 him like pizen at first, but he is really awfully 
 cute and as full of mischief as a gourd is of 
 seeds. It still makes me a little mad when he 
 throws my dishes on the floor. That s the 
 worst habit he s got, though, except jumpin 
 on my back when I ain t thinkin and scarin 
 me to death." 
 
 "He was a good man, Miss Pointer. No 
 body in this whole town d be missed the way he 
 is. He never said much just kind of smiled 
 and was gentle and dreamy but Mr. Kiggins 
 was sayin just yesterday he would give any 
 thing to have an old-fashioned talk with Clem. 
 I can see him just like it was now, the way he 
 reached over and pointed down into the 
 water." 
 
 "But they didn t tell him about it before he 
 went," said Hulda, as if speaking to herself. 
 She reached for the rolling pin, powdered it 
 with dry dough, and flattened out the cuttings. 
 "All comes of not knowing when to tell peo 
 ple you love them when to lock the stable." 
 Her lips ran over the sentence to herself, then,
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 261 
 
 as if strengthening her judgment, repeating it 
 in a half whisper. 
 
 As the days dragged out Rencie s unending 
 search for his former friend went on. He kept 
 his badge bright and his eyes eager. 
 
 There was little evidence at first, but there 
 never was much, according to the books. One 
 clue was enough and he had that the watch- 
 charm belonging to Doctor Fordyce, which he 
 himself had found on the river bank after 
 Clem s disappearance. 
 
 He had never liked Doctor Fordyce. The 
 doctor had been in Curryville only a short time 
 and few knew anything about him. Rencie 
 dodged at his heel day after day, but nothing 
 ever came of it. If Doctor Fordyce was guilty 
 he did not show it by word or glance. He 
 seemed to have nothing on his mind, but that 
 was only the way with accomplished crooks. 
 Although Rencie had little to build on, and less 
 to feed his suspicion on, he did not slacken his 
 efforts to fasten the crime on Curryville s new 
 est doctor. 
 
 There was one perplexing question that con-
 
 262 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 stantly rose up before Rencie what possible 
 motive could Doctor Fordyce have had ? There 
 always must be a motive all books said that. 
 One day in sifting out possible motives 
 Hulda s words about the lots in the Bellows 
 Bottom flashed over him. 
 
 That solved it Doctor Fordyce wished to 
 get Clem s lots so that he could go ahead with 
 the factory. Once more Rencie began to 
 shadow Doctor Fordyce. As this brought no 
 evidence, he decided to make a search of Doc 
 tor Fordyce s room at the New Palace. As he 
 strolled into the lobby he noticed that there was 
 a new clerk on duty. Rencie knew that he 
 could get past him and up the stairway and 
 then let himself into Doctor Fordyce s room 
 with a pass-key, but that wouldn t be the way a 
 real detective would work. So he waited until 
 later in the evening, slipped around behind the 
 building and climbed up the gutter pipe the 
 way any detective would do. Panting, he slid 
 over the window-ledge into the room. 
 
 It did not look much like a doctor s room. 
 There were several unopened cases in the cor-
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 263 
 
 ner, evidently containing medicine. Bottles of 
 all sizes were piled on one window-sill, with 
 a row of medical books on the mantelpiece. 
 Retorts and beakers stood backed in a corner ; 
 suits were piled over chairs, a suit-case with the 
 lid half closed sulked in the corner, the slit 
 looking like a great gashed mouth. In the 
 drawer of the bureau were some letter-heads 
 with the name of a Kansas City development 
 syndicate on them, and on a table in the mid 
 dle of the room for everybody to see was a 
 glass case of silver medical instruments. 
 
 Rencie turned to one thing after another, 
 looking through the drawers, examining the 
 dust on top of the windows, opening the medi 
 cal books and putting his nose in the beakers 
 in truly professional style. He could not have 
 told sulphuric acid from benzine, but that was 
 the way they always did in books. He fum 
 bled along under the mantelpiece, but no secret 
 door swung open. 
 
 He was just on the point of slipping out 
 when his eyes fell upon a pair of gold-rimmed 
 spectacles, bent and twisted. He recognized
 
 264 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 them at a glance Clem s. He drew back, 
 catching in his breath sharply, startled by his 
 discovery. This was more than he was count 
 ing on. "Smashed in the fight," he breathed 
 heavily. He paused, trembling at this evidence 
 of the doctor s guilt. The seriousness of his 
 discovery overwhelmed him and he trembled at 
 what it would lead to. It flashed over him 
 that possibly Doctor Fordyce could explain it, 
 but when he righted himself he knew that there 
 was only one explanation and that made his 
 hand tremble so that he had to put down the 
 glasses. 
 
 A step was heard in the hall ; it was coming 
 toward the room he was in. A hand fumbled 
 for the knob and a key rattled against the door 
 nosing for the hole. It was the doctor re 
 turning. 
 
 Rencie looked desperately around for a 
 means to escape. He could not possibly get 
 to the window, open it and make good his es 
 cape before the person would be in on him. 
 
 His mind leaped back over the books he 
 had read but not one of them told how to es-
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 265 
 
 cape when the suspected person unexpectedly 
 returned. It simply wasn t done in the best 
 detective books. Usage had sanctioned it 
 the other way about the sleuth should always 
 come upon the guilty person gazing fascinated 
 at evidence of his crime and not the criminal 
 return and find the inspector gathering evi 
 dence especially when the detective didn t 
 have his trusty Derringer with him. But 
 usage didn t keep the key from grating in the 
 lock. 
 
 Rencie looked wildly around the room for 
 some means of escape. The closet was big, 
 but he was certain to be trapped in it. A 
 thought rushed through his mind to pretend 
 to be walking in his sleep, but a doctor would 
 be able to tell at a glance if he were really 
 sleeping and he might catch him and give him 
 a hypodermic ! Of course he could spring up 
 on the doctor and overcome him even though 
 the doctor was six feet something and thick 
 through the shoulders the book always said 
 so, but his evidence had not all been gather 
 ed and it would ruin everything now to show
 
 266 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 his hand. Especially so when the doctor was 
 so thick through the shoulders. Most villains 
 weren t so tall, being small and with black 
 mustaches while Doctor Fordyce was tall and 
 smooth shaved. That rule might not work 
 on tall smooth-shaved criminals. Rencie was 
 pretty sure it wouldn t. 
 
 A hand fell upon the knob. 
 
 Something had to be done and done quickly. 
 He threw books to the wind they were sur 
 prisingly inadequate and looked again over 
 the room for some place to hide. He dived 
 under the bed and had scarcely drawn in his 
 legs when the villain entered. 
 
 The suspected party slipped out of his coat, 
 swung it over the back of a chair, and sat 
 down to read. He read and read; instead of 
 going about the room and peeking into a 
 hidden recess to bring out some ghastly souve 
 nir of the foul deed and to fasten his bloodshot 
 eyes on it, unable to escape the fascination of 
 the crime, the man kept on reading. How 
 could a person with mind clogged with mem 
 ory of such a murder be able to read? Still
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 267 
 
 criminal minds were of a very low order of 
 intellect and maybe, after all, he was trying to 
 forget the horrible scene by getting his mind on 
 something else. 
 
 Slowly inch by inch Rencie wormed back 
 to the far side of the bed and drew his feet 
 farther up. 
 
 At last the man in the chair put down the 
 magazine, stood up and gave a heavy sigh. 
 Ah, that was the first indication of grief that 
 he had shown ! Only it did seem a bit strange 
 that he wouldn t sigh until he was starting to 
 bed. Unfastening his collar, he flung it on the 
 bureau and backed out of his shirt. Taking 
 his position in the middle of the floor he be 
 gan exercising, filling his lungs and slapping 
 his breast. Then up and down he raised him 
 self, squatting on his haunches and coming 
 up again, his hands on his hips. Rencie could 
 see just enough of the intruder s body to ap 
 preciate how splendidly muscled his enemy 
 was; it was a good thing that he had not fol 
 lowed the book and leaped upon him when he 
 pushed open the door. No doubt the slayer
 
 268 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 took exercise just so that he could keep him 
 self in trim for an unexpected emergency 
 like a detective springing upon him just as he 
 was coming through a door. 
 
 After ages and ages the desperate man piled 
 into bed with a chorus of sighs and groans as 
 though it was tearing him to pieces. "Ah," 
 thought Rencie, "at last his conscience is be 
 ginning to trouble him." 
 
 Maybe he might talk in his sleep. He 
 couldn t remember the statistics in regard to 
 this. 
 
 After more moans and tossings the weary 
 soul on the mattress became quiet and the 
 avenger underneath knew that sleep was be 
 ginning to shake out its raven wings. Then 
 his own troubles began. The New Palace 
 wasn t famous on account of its spotless rooms ; 
 instead it drew particular attention to its match 
 less southern cooking. It s a poor sort of way 
 side inn that hasn t matchless southern cook 
 ing. To be sure the sheets were always white ; 
 but the sheets were on the bed. Under the 
 bed was different people didn t sleep there.
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 269 
 
 And it would be an ill-mannered guest who 
 would look under the bed. 
 
 Something began working in Rencie s nose. 
 It started down at the end and gradually 
 worked back, crawling up the inside like a 
 feather. He wrinkled up his face, doubled up 
 his hands and brought them to his breast as if 
 to hold it back. But the feather wasn t to be 
 treated that way. His shoulders raised 
 kerchoo! and came down like a trap. The 
 feather had come out. 
 
 The long slow breathing stopped. The man 
 above sprang up; a white leg shot out and a 
 foot dropped down within a few inches of 
 Rencie s face. Rencie s hands were still 
 gripped over his breast and he pushed them 
 down hard over his heart to keep it from shak 
 ing the bed. Surely the man could feel it even 
 if he could not hear it. He would die fighting. 
 But it was a shame that he should be killed 
 so early in his career. When his friends and 
 relatives came and found his crushed and 
 mangled body they would know that he had 
 died fighting. Detectives always died fighting.
 
 270 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 He could see the head-lines in the Kansas City 
 papers : 
 
 TRAPPED BY CRIMINAL, COOL DE 
 TECTIVE DIES FIGHTING 
 
 Somewhere in the second largest type would 
 be: 
 
 HANDICAPPDD BY UNSURMOUNTABLE ODDS 
 THE YOUTHFUL SLEUTH FOUGHT COUR 
 AGEOUSLY ON TILL His STRENGTH 
 EBBED AWAY 
 
 The white leg remained still for a moment, 
 then reached back under the bed and began 
 feeling around. The heel poked the youthful 
 sleuth in the ribs. 
 
 Rencie grabbed for the leg ; in such a case as 
 this a detective should hurl the criminal to the 
 floor and use ju-jutsu. The idea was splendid 
 but how did one use ju-jutsu on the floor? 
 But the leg snapped back before his hands 
 could close around it.
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 271 
 
 The man leaped out of bed and turned on 
 the light. 
 
 "Say, bo, you re wasting your time," called 
 out the man. "You ll find me mighty poor 
 picking." 
 
 Rencie rolled out, ready to spring to his feet 
 and hurl himself like a catapult at the enemy 
 a detective always did that before he died fight 
 ing. 
 
 "Though you have the upper hand of me, 
 you foul monster, I will yet give you a worthy 
 fight. Prepare yourself." 
 
 But when Rencie came to his feet ready to 
 catapult himself at his cringing enemy he 
 stopped short. His hands dropped weakly at 
 his sides. He had never before seen the fat, 
 good natured looking man before him. 
 
 It was Brassy. 
 
 "You needn t got under there I wasn t go 
 ing to hurt you." 
 
 Rende s hands fitted in closer to his sides 
 than ever, all the catapultian strength gone 
 from them. "Oh, I thought you were Doctor 
 somebody else."
 
 272 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Sorry, bo," smiled Brassy. "You under 
 stand it ain t my fault. I hate to put you to 
 all this trouble. I m the last person in the 
 world to cause a hard working dip any extra 
 trouble. I used to be good on my feet myself. 
 Are you workin this town regular now? I 
 was intending to do some business here my 
 self, but I guess I had better change my place." 
 
 A light of understanding broke over Rencie. 
 This other fellow was a real burglar! He 
 would lead him out. 
 
 "Oh, so you just got in"- - he would be 
 professional "bo." 
 
 "You re on the midnight train. Say, pard- 
 ner, what are the chances here?" 
 
 Rencie picked a dusty raveling from his 
 clothes and blew it carelessly away. "It s poor 
 picking, pard." That certainly was profes 
 sional. 
 
 "I had a hard time getting a place here to 
 night, and only after a lot of palaver would the 
 thick-headed clerk let me in. I guess he s a 
 new clerk important as he acted. I d like
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 273 
 
 to give him a dose of my sovereign remedy 
 the Universal Hog Cholera Cure." 
 
 This was queer talk. It didn t seem to 
 mean anything. Rencie, still stunned by find 
 ing the wrong man in bed, could only blink. 
 Brassy s next words astonished him even more. 
 
 "Say, ain t you pretty young to be workin 
 the second story? You don t look like a real 
 porch climber to me." 
 
 When Rencie saw that he was being mis 
 taken for a night thief he explained his pres 
 ence. "I m not a second-story man." That was 
 the expression to use. "I crawled under the 
 bed to play a joke on a fellow on the fellow 
 who has this room and you turned out to be 
 him ! I guess the new clerk got things mixed 
 up and gave you the wrong key." 
 
 "You oughtn t to do a thing like that, son 
 it gives a fellow an awful start. Goodness 
 knows this hotel gives a fellow enough things, 
 the way it is, without havin a strange person 
 get under the bed and holler Boo ! My com 
 pany sent me up here to do missionary work
 
 274 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 among your tillers of the soil, selling the great 
 and imperial Universal Hog Cholera Cure, but 
 when I land here I find a telegram telling me 
 to move on to another territory to spread 
 my gospel of kindness to all hogs." 
 
 Rencie s eyes blinked harder than ever. 
 Listen as closely as he might he could not 
 quite make out what Brassy meant. 
 
 "What do you do for a living?" asked Ren- 
 cie with startling pointedness. 
 
 "I save the lives of innocent thousands. I 
 bring joy and happiness into the homes of 
 thousands and thousands each year. I keep 
 families together. I keep the mother from 
 withdrawing into a dark corner, turnin her 
 feet to the changin sky and passin on to that 
 land that is far fairer than ours. I refer to the 
 mother of pigs. Do you know how many 
 young, innocent pigs just bursting into the 
 bloom of young manhood and womanhood are 
 swept away each year by that dread disease, 
 cholera ?" 
 
 "No," admitted Rencie, swept back by the 
 whirlwind of words.
 
 275 
 
 "One million, two hundred thousand," re 
 turned Brassy impressively. "Two million, 
 four hundred thousand hams, twenty million 
 four hundred thousand pounds of side-meat 
 lost forever each year by the ravages of that 
 cruel disease. But all is not lost; there is yet 
 hope. It is the Universal Hog Cholera Cure, 
 large bottle one dollar, half size fifty cents." 
 
 Rencie was disappointed. After all, the volu 
 ble guest wasn t a confidence man, nor even a 
 burglar. 
 
 "I don t want to seem impolite or anything 
 that way," Brassy hurried on, "but if I am 
 going to get that early train out you ll have to 
 excuse me." He pulled up one fat knee and 
 yawned. 
 
 Rencie took the hint. Opening the door he 
 passed into the hall and tiptoed up the back 
 way without being seen by the new clerk, his 
 evidence safe and secure. As Brassy was leav 
 ing on the early train there was little danger 
 of his mentioning the affair to anybody. 
 
 The next morning Rencie went around to 
 the New Palace with fear and faltering, but
 
 276 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 sure enough his acquaintance of the night had 
 taken the early train. Doctor Fordyce had 
 not returned during the night and, on ques 
 tioning, the proprietor could not remember 
 where Doctor Fordyce was on the night of 
 Clem s disappearance; he was only certain of 
 the fact that he had not been in his room all 
 night. 
 
 The hemisphere watch-charm had belonged 
 to Doctor Fordyce. The net was slowly 
 gathering about the doctor. The turn affairs 
 might take made Rencie tremble. He hated 
 that it should be anybody that he knew even 
 though he disliked him and even though he 
 put his hand on his head and called him "son 
 ny." He wished the net were closing about 
 some wandering tramp. Still he knew that the 
 criminal always turned out to be the person 
 you suspected least of all ... and justice 
 was justice and the stern law must take its 
 course. 
 
 Armed with his evidence, Rencie hurried to 
 Marshal Jupes. 
 
 "Any more clues, officer?" he asked with
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 277 
 
 professional mien. "Officer 1 sounded much 
 more important that "Mr. Jupes." 
 
 "Yes, some more," returned Mr. Jupes with 
 natural official hesitation, fitting his coat over 
 the bulge in his hip pocket. "Yes, some, but 
 not so much. As good or better than we had 
 hoped." 
 
 "When do you think you ll close in on the 
 malefactor?" 
 
 The law moved in a mysterious way its 
 wonders to perform, and Officer Jupes believed 
 in adding to the veil of mystery that surround 
 ed order and justice. "Purty soon, purty soon. 
 Everything ain t just ready yet; I wisht I 
 could explain such things to you, Rencie, but 
 it takes years of study to master the perplexi 
 ties of the law, and you are young yet." 
 
 Rencie tried to look calm and unconcerned 
 as he made his reply, for sleuths always took 
 everything as a matter of fact and no one 
 was ever able to detect the slightest trace of 
 emotion on their faces. He hoped that his 
 face was immobile; he wasn t quite sure what 
 that was, but by looking out the window with a
 
 278 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 far-away expression his face would no doubt 
 have all the immobility necessary. 
 
 "I know who the guilty wretch is," Rencie 
 said, his eyes out the window. 
 
 The minion of the law studied him curiously 
 a moment, hesitating between smiling and 
 eagerness. 
 
 "I have run the fiend to earth," the immo 
 bility of his face becoming more apparent than 
 ever. 
 
 Mr. Jupes rose excitedly. "What do you 
 mean, anyway?" he demanded. 
 
 "I can put my hand on the inhuman monster 
 who committed the foul deed." 
 
 Mr. Jupes dropped a trembling hand on Reri- 
 cie s shoulder and bent his head around until 
 he could look squarely into Rencie s face. But 
 he could gather no message there. "This is 
 a serious thing, boy," he exclaimed. 
 
 "The dastardly blackguard is even now in 
 our midst." 
 
 Jupes studied the boy a moment and im 
 pressed by his seriousness, clumped over to the 
 door and locked it.
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 279 
 
 They were closed from sight for more than 
 an hour and when the door opened Marshal 
 Jupes hurried down the street and turned up 
 the wooden stairs that led to Judge Wood- 
 bridge s office. Mr. Kiggins telephone rang 
 and in a minute he was going up the same 
 wooden flight; leaning out the window Judge 
 Woodbridge called to Mr. Knabb, and he, 
 catching the tone, came breathlessly up the 
 worn steps. The telephone at the New Palace 
 jangled and in a few minutes the proprietor 
 paused to catch his breath, then knocked nerv 
 ously at Judge Woodbridge s door. 
 
 At the end of two hours Marshal Jupes 
 walked down Main Street toward the New 
 Palace, outwardly calm; but had you known 
 him very well you would have seen that his 
 hand kept slipping back almost unconsciously 
 toward his right hip pocket. In a few minutes 
 he returned side by side with Doctor Fordyce, 
 his hands free and the right one swinging near 
 the same hip pocket. Neither was talking, but 
 aside from that almost any one would have 
 believed that they were taking a social stroll.
 
 280 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Only they didn t go toward the Chautauqua 
 Grounds, nor even in the direction of the 
 water-works, nor out toward Lovers Lane. 
 Instead they turned down Ash Street and into 
 the brick calaboose. 
 
 No one seemingly had paid any attention 
 to them, had scarcely noticed that they were 
 on the street until the red door of the jail 
 closed behind them. Two men standing in 
 front of the post-office discussing fall rye 
 stopped talking and fastened their eyes on the 
 red door curiously; a man lounged out of the 
 lumber yard with an apron swinging from his 
 shoulders and sat down on a keg, his face 
 turned toward the jail. 
 
 Mr. Knabb came down the wooden steps 
 and was hurrying up the street when some one 
 stopped him, and coming close asked him a 
 question. He shook his head non-committally 
 and turned away. The man then hastened to 
 the eager group in front of the post-office. 
 
 That night the mob came. 
 
 In reality it didn t come; it was already 
 there ; it merely melted into a blur in the dark-
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 281 
 
 ness. A few men walked past the jail without 
 turning their heads toward it; keeping them 
 painfully straight ahead. They turned down 
 the street toward the railroad trestle where it 
 ran high over Clear Branch. Behind the 
 square pillars that supported the bridge were 
 other men, all singularly quiet, without masks 
 or even a coat collar turned up. Figures came 
 tramping up the middle of the street, keeping 
 away from the loose boarded walk. They 
 peered into one another s faces with scarcely 
 a word of greeting. 
 
 A figure in a coonskin cap approached, his 
 shoes crunching in the dust, and dropped some 
 thing that sounded like a sack of potatoes, ex 
 cept that there was a slight metallic clink. He 
 kicked it with his foot. 
 
 "I couldn t get the swivel off," he said 
 hoarsely, "but a well rope ll do the work as 
 good as anything." 
 
 "This goes with it," whispered another 
 voice, taking up the same hoarse pitch, and 
 drawing a leather strap from his pocket. A 
 buckle rattled. "It s a hame-string, and the
 
 282 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 buckle works easy. It ll keep his feet from 
 kickin ." 
 
 Across the left arms of several of the men 
 rested long objects that looked like peavies, 
 but men never carry peavies in the hollows of 
 their left arms. 
 
 Two men stepped back a few feet from the 
 abutment of the bridge, and a long arm lifted 
 toward the cross-ties. "About thirty-five feet," 
 said one, and the other voiced a nasal agree 
 ment. The two melted into the crowd again. 
 
 A "hack" turned the corner, the farm team 
 jogging down the dusty street, the chains of 
 the work harness clinking merrily. A lone 
 figure sat hunched on the front seat, humming 
 fragments of Good-by, My Lover, Good-by, 
 evidently inspired to the rendition by too much 
 of Joe s Place. The men massed behind the tim 
 bers and the farmer rolled by, oblivious that 
 there was a soul in a hundred yards of him. 
 
 A hand reached into an inside pocket, a head 
 was thrown back, a throaty gurgle told what 
 was happening, and the back of a hand rasped 
 across a stubbled chin. Before the flask could
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 283 
 
 be put away the nearest neighbor nudged and 
 whispered, "Sure, I ll take some." Another 
 neighbor also felt disposed and in a minute 
 the empty bottle sailed in an arc and dropped 
 into the wayside weeds. 
 
 "When my boy had the fever he set up with 
 him three nights straight," said a hoarse voice 
 in the crowd. "That s what he did three 
 nights straight." 
 
 "Last spring when I had the rheum tism," 
 came another thick voice out of the darkness, 
 "and couldn t go around damp places, he bailed 
 the water out of my cellar every day during 
 the wet spell." 
 
 No names were mentioned; it was always 
 he. Whether the reference was to Clem, or to 
 the prisoner, no name was used. 
 
 "I never liked him from the first time I laid 
 my eyes on him," snapped a bitter voice. "But 
 I never dreamed he had this in him." 
 
 The men knotted closer together and a dis 
 tinct rumble of anticipation ran over them. 
 
 Outlined in the distance was the brick jail; 
 near the top of the rear a lamp glimmered and
 
 284 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 even at that distance it could be seen that bars 
 measured off the light. A shadow came slip 
 ping down the road from the back of the brick 
 structure, came hurrying down the dusty street 
 and paused at the edge of the crowd. Heads 
 bent forward, silently and questioningly, and 
 hands crept unconsciously to hip pockets. 
 
 "It s all right, boys," guaranteed the man 
 with the coonskin cap. Then he turned to the 
 black figures and shot an arm out in a com 
 manding gesture. "They don t suspicion any 
 thing up there, and that s his light burnin . 
 It s all right, boys." 
 
 That was all that was needed. Almost as if 
 with one foot they stepped off, keeping to 
 the middle of the street. Massed, they moved 
 to the dairy building, crossed the walk without 
 more than touching a toe to it, some leaping. 
 Hats came down over eyes, hands went to hip 
 pockets and brought out bits of shining metal ; 
 the well rope clinked and one or two figures 
 lurched perceptibly. 
 
 The man with the coonskin cap held up a 
 hand, tiptoed on to the steps and was reaching
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 283 
 
 out for the door-knob when the red door pulled 
 back before his face and Marshal Jupes stood 
 before him. The lamp, hanging on the wall 
 behind him, showed a squat figure in whose 
 hands was gripped a short repeating rifle. His , 
 hair was tossed and tumbled and one suspender 
 dangled, showing a hasty toilet. 
 
 "Boys," rose a high wavering voice, "I 
 know what you come for. But you can t have 
 him, you can t have him." The voice was not 
 certain, and even in the shadow the face whit 
 ened. "We don t want no trouble, boys, but 
 I m going to do my duty. If he s guilty the 
 law ll be enforced." 
 
 "He s guilty all right," cut in a voice, "and 
 we want him. You better not make trouble." 
 
 "Now, boys, you don t know," dropping 
 from assertion to argument. "You don t know 
 for sure, and you ll be sorry if you do any 
 thing hasty." 
 
 A hand circled above the crowd unseen by 
 the figure in the door, a noose swished through 
 the air and dropped on Jupes shoulder. Some 
 one had tried to lariat him. He ducked back
 
 286 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 and slammed the red door behind him. Scarce 
 ly had the door locked before a shot sputtered 
 into the wood. Another shot flattened against 
 the bricks. A return shot from the inside 
 whistled over the heads of the crowd. The 
 men parted around either corner. A rock went 
 crashing through a window. A heavy log was 
 swung around the corner, two men on each 
 side. The men swung it back and forth a 
 couple of times to get the rhythm of their 
 bodies, and the figure in a coonskin cap grated 
 his breath out harshly as a signal and the bat 
 tering-ram crashed against the door. The door 
 flew open, swinging limply on one hinge, the 
 end of the log sticking through the splintered 
 panel, like a camel s nose. 
 
 "Now, men" yelled the man in the coonskin 
 cap defiantly, "all together. He s our man !" 
 
 The men surged forward with a chorus of 
 yells, shouts and curses in all keys. 
 
 But there was one figure quicker than all 
 the rest. Pushing his way through the crowd 
 he leaped through the door, darted inside,
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 287 
 
 called a sentence to Jupes and was back in the 
 door with the officer s gun. 
 
 "Stop where you are," he commanded with 
 so much authority that the men poised on their 
 toes, ready to release their muscles and finish 
 the action. "Stand where you are till I tell you 
 one thing!" 
 
 Outlined against the light, his shoulders 
 squared, his head up, the repeating rifle in his 
 hands, stood Rick Oody. 
 
 "In reality I ve got two things to tell you." 
 His voice was high and clear. There was a 
 commanding something about him that no one 
 had ever dreamed of before, a power that made 
 even the man in the coonskin cap drop his 
 shoulders and settle back. "The first thing is 
 this: the first man that moves toward this door 
 is a dead man, and the second and the third, 
 just as long as I last. You may be able to get 
 me but some of you ll never go home. Hen 
 Riley, if you swing that lariat at me I ll shoot 
 you cold. Damn it, there s nothing I d rather 
 do.
 
 288 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "The second thing is this: don t you raise 
 that gun, Bill Smith, or I ll plug you through 
 the eye. I know positively that Doctor For- 
 dyce didn t kill Clem Pointer. I know it. I 
 hate the doctor just as much as any of you 
 more I guess. Didn t my little girl die and 
 him waitin on her? but I ain t going to see 
 you string him up when he ain t guilty. I 
 know positively that he didn t kill Clem and 
 that s all I can tell you about it." 
 
 "Who did then?" demanded a heavy voice. 
 
 "I ain t saying that anybody did we ain t 
 ever found his body. You don t know any 
 thing about what happened except findin some 
 things. I can t tell you any more; but one 
 thing I do know, and that is Doctor Fordyce 
 didn t kill him." 
 
 There was authority in the way Rick Oody 
 lifted his head, and in the way his shoulders 
 held themselves stiff and rigid in the panel of 
 light. Never before in the whole history of 
 Curryville had any one paid the slightest at 
 tention to him, but now they realized that a 
 power stood before them. Rick had seen Clem 
 and knew that he was still in the flesh. If he
 
 I m just Rick Oody, the town drunkard
 
 A TROUBLED CONSCIENCE 289 
 
 could have said this the crowd would have 
 melted away, but he had promised Clem that 
 not one word should pass his lips as to what 
 had happened to him, and by that promise 
 Rick s lips were sealed. 
 
 "Who are you to be talking this way?" came 
 the demand. 
 
 "That s right, I m just Rick Oody, the town 
 drunkard, the man who does your dirty work 
 and buries your horses, but I know what I am 
 talking about." There was an assurance about 
 him, a power in his attitude, an authority in 
 his words that no one in Curryville would have 
 guessed possible. "If anybody comes inside this 
 lock-up to-night it ll be over my dead body 
 and mine won t be the only one. I know who 
 most of you are, and Jupes has heard me call 
 out some of your names and you know what 
 that ll mean if it comes up in law. Now, I m 
 goin in, boys, and I m goin to set just inside 
 that door, all night with this gun on my 
 knee." 
 
 Slowly he turned his back full upon the 
 crowd, stepped across the log and disappeared 
 behind the red door. From the barricade came
 
 290 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Rick s voice, the same measured assurance in it 
 as before: "Boys, I m goin to keep that lamp 
 lit so that you ll know who is the first one 
 down." 
 
 The mob stood hesitating, breathing heavily. 
 
 "Go on back to the trestle, boys with your 
 well rope and think it over." 
 
 The attitude of the men, their necks out, 
 their lips set, relaxed, their eyes left the red 
 door, and each looked at the other. The man 
 with the coonskin cap reached one foot behind 
 him and the crowd edged back, without turn 
 ing their faces. Silently they flowed around 
 the corner of the little brick building, crossed 
 the board walk and gathered in the dusty 
 street. 
 
 Then two figures turned back and walked 
 without hesitation up to the edge of the porch. 
 Hen Riley and the man with the greasy moth- 
 eaten cap dragged the log out of the splintered 
 panel of the red door, carried it down the 
 middle of the street and flung it shamefully in 
 the gully underneath the trestle. 
 
 The mob had been quelled, and the prisoner 
 was safe.
 
 CHAPTER XVI 
 BRASSY S IDEA 
 
 CLEM found another boarding-place in 
 Kansas City where he was quite sure 
 that spilled blood had not leaked clear through 
 to the ceiling below, and worked harder than 
 ever preparing to save thoughtless humanity 
 from the devouring flames by means of the 
 Railey Fire-Escape Belt. 
 
 Thoughtless humanity, however, had little 
 worry about the devouring flames, being per 
 fectly content to go on in its headlong way 
 straight to ruin. Still he made a few sales. 
 Inventor Railey s sad optimism kept up; he 
 felt sure that one day maybe to-morrow 
 thoughtless humanity would see the error of 
 its way and do something to protect its loved 
 ones. 
 
 The city ground on him harder and harder. 
 20,1
 
 292 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 After the glamour and whirl of the first few 
 days had worn off it became a millstone around 
 his neck. 
 
 One evening he was standing in front of the 
 bulletin-board, one of a wild mass of hurrahing 
 humans. Somebody somewhere had just slid 
 in home and hats went up in the air and men 
 pounded one another on the shoulders as if 
 some brave fireman had leaped to safety on 
 a Railey Belt with a beautiful yet sobbing 
 woman in his arms. And there was nothing 
 to see except a diamond-shaped thing about 
 as big as a checker-board wouldn t he like to 
 have another game with Judge Woodbridge? 
 nailed on the side of a building. 
 
 Above the miniature baseball diamond a 
 bulletin was posted. Clem s eyes leaped to it: 
 
 DR. FORDYCE, ALMOST LYNCHED, 
 Now TO OWN CITY 
 
 Last Week Curryville Was Ready to Hang 
 
 Doctor This week Willing to Give 
 
 Him Valuable Option.
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 293 
 
 Clem brushed the back of his hand across 
 his eyes with a motion peculiar to him and 
 with parted lips stared at the bulletin. 
 
 "Look, look !" exclaimed a man behind him 
 to his companion. "Doctor Fordyce that s 
 our man !" 
 
 The man addressed turned his eyes from 
 the miniature diamond to the news bulletin. 
 "Well, I ll be damned! Sure that s Fordyce, 
 but what does all this mean almost lynched ?" 
 
 "Hsh you don t know who s around," 
 warned the other, pushing up his Panama. 
 "He hasn t reported for a week and his or 
 ders are to send in word every day. Curry- 
 ville s the town, all right. We d better send 
 him a cipher." 
 
 The other nodded and the two men hurried 
 away. 
 
 Slowly the meaning of it burned into Clem s 
 mind; but even then it was confused and 
 blurred. In some way Doctor Fordyce was 
 the agent of these men and was trying to get 
 something from Curryville. Clem turned and 
 pushed his way through the crowd after the
 
 294 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 men. He followed them for half a block, then 
 one of the men hailed a passing taxicab and 
 both leaped in. 
 
 Clem paused, uncertain what to do. He had 
 never trusted himself in a machine like that 
 before and besides it would cost he felt of 
 his thin pocketbook. Why hadn t they taken 
 a street-car? But no time was to be lost. He 
 waved to another taxicab and pointed to the 
 one ahead. "Take me wherever they go," he 
 commanded, and settled back in the cushions. 
 
 It was his first ride ; the machine made a lot 
 of noise and racket until one would have 
 thought it \vas going to blow up the next 
 moment, and it was not easy riding as a buggy 
 either. He leaned forward looking out of the 
 window curiously, elated, wondering what Hul- 
 da would think of him now if she could see 
 him. What did that little finger on the dial 
 mean that kept crawling over a circle of 
 figures? 
 
 The machine drew up with a cough, and the 
 chauffeur opened the door. "They re getting 
 out," he 53 i<l
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 295 
 
 As Clem hurried through the door of an 
 office building he saw the elevator closing on 
 them. The door clicked and their feet dis 
 appeared into the floor above. Where would 
 they get off? He had just as well be a hun 
 dred miles from them as not to know where 
 they got off. On the next trip he asked to be 
 put off at the same floor with the men. On 
 the frosted door before him was painted "The 
 Southern Development Company." This made 
 the mystery deeper than ever, for what should 
 a southern development company have to do 
 with Curryville, and, above all, with Doctor 
 Fordyce and an attempted lynching. Still 
 he felt certain that he was on the right trail. 
 This seemed about the end of the scent, for 
 how could he find out what was going on in 
 side the closed doors? If he should go in he 
 could only stay a moment he had suffered 
 from experience without being able to get 
 any more information. 
 
 The door next to the Southern Development 
 Company was open. Clem slipped in ; the jani 
 tor was at work on the floor. Clem looked out
 
 296 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the window that opened on the court; it was 
 within a few feet of the development com 
 pany s window. A plan flashed through his 
 mind. Stepping out on the broad window-ledge 
 he leaned over until he could hear the men 
 talking. 
 
 "Isn t that fine?" one of them was saying. 
 "He can close it up by Friday. That is when 
 they have the special election to vote on it. 
 He s a live wire all right. I guess we d bet 
 ter take him into the firm when " 
 
 Clem s heart was leaping high, but then 
 something happened behind him. The janitor 
 had closed the window and he was locked out 
 side four stories from the ground. He heard 
 no more of the conversation; he peered over 
 and felt a peculiar sinking on his left side. 
 Pushing back his hat he looked into the room 
 he had just left. The janitor had gone out, 
 closing the door. When he strained at the win 
 dow he found that it was locked. He was 
 trapped. 
 
 He could break the window, but the sound 
 of falling glass would bring a curious crowd,
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 297 
 
 and besides, the door might be locked. He 
 must act quickly, for the strain on his feet was 
 telling. 
 
 Carefully he stepped across to the other 
 window, gripped the casing and pushed a leg in. 
 
 "Look there what s that?" exclaimed one 
 of the development men at sight of the en 
 croaching foot. Clem stiffly climbed inside. 
 
 "What do you mean?" demanded one of 
 them. "Call the police." 
 
 Clem stepped on the floor and straightened 
 up, short of breath. "Gentlemen," he said, 
 "have I the pleasure of addressing representa 
 tives of the Southern Development Company?" 
 
 "What do you want ?" snapped the other. 
 
 "Do you gentlemen realize that fire destroys 
 more lives each year than any other agent in 
 the world outside of sickness? Hundreds are 
 hanged, thousands go down in the ocean each 
 year, but tens of thousands are swept off this 
 earth by the most horrible known death fire. 
 I have here the Railey Fire-Escape Belt and 
 with it I am able to enter your office in such 
 an unceremonious fashion. Strong as a cable,
 
 298 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 light as a feather, no cork to become rotten 
 and useless, and can be adjusted in six sec 
 onds with one hand while holding in the other 
 arm a loved one. The only belt on the market 
 where two or more can escape from the de 
 vouring flames at the same time. Can be put 
 out of sight under a desk ; on the wall it makes 
 an attractive ornament. Do you know you 
 owe it to your loved ones to protect yourself?" 
 
 The men glanced at each other, taken back 
 by the torrent of words. "Say, but you got 
 some nerve !" exclaimed the dark-complexioned 
 one. "You ought to sell stock." 
 
 "You may not need it to-morrow, but sooner 
 or later your life may depend on it, and with 
 out the Railey Fire-Escape Belt your loved 
 ones may be made widows and orphans. A 
 complete diagram explaining its adjustment 
 accompanies each belt. A man in Tasmania 
 said it saved his whole family. It saves peo 
 ple from burning to death in office buildings, 
 factories, homes, houses and hotels. Perhaps 
 one of you has had some loved one snatched 
 out of your arms into the jaws of that ter-
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 299 
 
 rible monster fire; perhaps you have had a 
 wife, sister or sweetheart perish just beyond 
 your finger-tips for lack of a safety belt. Spe 
 cial rates for orders of more than a dozen." 
 
 The two men looked into each other s eyes 
 and smiled. The peril of their loved ones per 
 ishing just beyond their finger-tips in the jaws 
 of the terrible monster didn t worry them very 
 much, and the fact that it was the only belt 
 on the market that could be adjusted in six 
 seconds while holding the loved one with the 
 other arm didn t bring home the need of the 
 belt as might be expected, nor did the added 
 inducement of special rates for wholesale quan 
 tities make them feel the grave danger that 
 was hanging over them. 
 
 "Say, you ve got a great line of talk," said 
 the dark-complexioned one. "You oughtn t to 
 be wasting your time on fire-escape belts and 
 loved ones when you could sell stock. How d 
 you like to sell some Oriole Mining Stock?" 
 
 Clem swept his eye over the office. On a 
 desk was a telegram which he felt might be 
 from Doctor Fordyce. While gradually back-
 
 300 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 ing toward the message he explained that he 
 felt called to let the world know about the 
 wonders of the Railey Fire-Escape Belt so 
 that mankind could escape from fire which had 
 always been a surly servant, since man sub 
 dued it, thus rising above the animals, but 
 which still strikes back, cruelly, relentlessly. 
 His hand closed on the yellow sheet. 
 
 "But," insisted the swarthy one, half hu 
 morously, "why not leave something for your 
 wife, sister or sweetheart in case the wire snaps 
 and you are hurled headlong to the bloody 
 pavement?" 
 
 "It s made of the best steel and will not 
 break, and it s capable of supporting the weight 
 of three loved ones." 
 
 "Say, you re all right. You bring it home 
 all right till a fellow really gets to thinking 
 about his wife, sister or sweetheart weeping 
 her heart out at the window waiting for a 
 fellow to come back. That s the secret of suc 
 cessful salesmanship make it personal." Clem 
 insisted that his heart was given to the Railey 
 Belt, but that he would drop back again some
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 301 
 
 day to see if they had come to appreciate their 
 loved ones at their truth worth, though inflect 
 ing his voice as if to say that he might not find 
 them, for no one ever knew when the terrible 
 monster was going to seize unbelievers in its 
 devouring jaws. He closed the door behind 
 him and stumbled his way toward the ele 
 vator. His knees sagged and his heart was 
 pounding. The elevator made him think of the 
 horror of falling. He was glad when he was 
 outside. 
 
 "Here I am," called a voice at the curbing. 
 "Get right in." 
 
 It was the taxicab man. There was more 
 of a command than a welcome in his voice. 
 Clem piled in before he knew what he was 
 doing. 
 
 "Where to?" asked the taxicab man, hold 
 ing the door open. 
 
 Clem had no idea where, but of course he 
 must go somewhere. He could tell that by the 
 way the man spoke. "Up the street then 
 back." 
 
 The man glanced at him sharply as if to
 
 302 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 make up his mind about something and snapped 
 the door. 
 
 In a few minutes Clem realized that he was 
 out of the immediate danger of discovery by 
 the Southern Development Company, but an 
 other cloud was falling over him. He leaned 
 forward anxiously, and as near as he could esti 
 mate it he owed the taxicab man two dollars 
 and eighty cents. He understood now; the 
 man had been charging for his wait; nervously 
 he fumbled through his pockets. All he could 
 bring to light was two dollars and twenty 
 cents and a few signed orders for the Railey 
 Fire-Escape Belt. And the fare was going 
 up all the time. He was afraid of the chauf 
 feur; he had always been timid of waiters, 
 conductors and policemen. 
 
 There was one consolation, anyway he had 
 evidence in the shape of a telegram. He drew 
 it out of his pocket, glanced at it and settled 
 back limply. Then he leaned forward as if 
 to call to the man at the wheel, but sank back 
 more limply than ever. The telegram was in 
 cipher.
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 303 
 
 The machine came to a spitting stop and 
 the man poked his head inside. "We ve seen 
 this street now. Cliff Drive?" 
 
 Clem remembered what a long distance it 
 was to the drive. "No," he said weakly, "just 
 go back." 
 
 The driver glanced searchingly again. "The 
 same place?" 
 
 "Yes, the same place but go slow." 
 
 Surely going slowly would keep the finger 
 from racing around so fast. 
 
 Clem sat reading the street signs automat 
 ically, searching his mind for a way out. Sec 
 ond-hand clothes could be bought for a song, 
 teeth could be extracted without pain or your 
 money back, with bridge work a specialty ; you 
 could get your name printed on neat tasty 
 cards while you waited, while if you had only 
 a dollar you could go in and order the best 
 bedroom set in America for the money 
 "We believe you are honest." The slant of a 
 shoulder on the sidewalk brought Brassy back 
 to mind. Clem knew that Brassy had been 
 out on the road, but he would go to the home
 
 304 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 office of the Universal and at least try to en 
 list help. Clem ran into a corner drug store, 
 verified the address and called the number to 
 the chauffeur. 
 
 The finger pointed to four dollars and 
 twenty cents. 
 
 The driver cut a corner, backed into a side 
 street with much turning, starting and retreat 
 ing, the finger using this as a pretext to leap 
 forward like a thing alive, and finally drew up 
 before the number. 
 
 "I ll wait," said the chauffeur, as if he owned 
 his fare. Clem got the floor number from the 
 elevator starter, and opened the door into the 
 office of the Universal. A mass of blond hair 
 arose to meet him. 
 
 "Is Mr. Haganin?" 
 
 The girl glanced at the bulletin-board with 
 the names of the salesmen, showing whether 
 they were in or out, and nodded. "Mr. Hagan 
 is engaged," she said, looking on past Clem 
 at her reflection in the glass door. "Have a 
 seat." 
 
 Clem changed uneasily from one hip to the
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 305 
 
 other. "I can wait, but the taxicab " break 
 ing off as if to imply that a meter waits on nei 
 ther time nor tide. Especially when it has a 
 good running start. 
 
 The girl caught at the word. That was dif 
 ferent. Customers that came in taxicabs "Oh, 
 I ll see. What s the name?" 
 
 "Pointer." 
 
 "Mr. Philbin?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Pointer." 
 
 "Phillips?" 
 
 "No, Pointer." 
 
 "How do you spell it?" patting her hair. 
 Clem called out the seven letters. 
 
 "Oh, Painter!" exclaimed the girl with 
 finality, disappearing into the adjoining room. 
 
 Brassy appeared at the door, sleeked up till 
 Clem scarcely knew him. Brassy made a dive 
 at him. 
 
 "By jooks, I m glad to see you! Come right 
 in and let me show you around over the home 
 office of that sovereign remedy, the Universal 
 Hog Cholera Cure, that has brought peace and 
 happiness to so many hogs over the length
 
 306 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 and breadth of this land. Do you know how 
 many hogs pass away with cholera each year 
 in Missouri alone? Have you ever seen a hog 
 fade and wither under your very eye like a 
 flower in a hot draft? Come with me and 
 I ll show you the one thing that keeps them 
 from joining the great majority, large size one 
 dollar, small fifty cents." Brassy seized Clem 
 by the arm and started to drag him into the 
 maze of offices. 
 
 "I can t go." Clem tried to explain so that 
 no one would hear. 
 
 "Sure you can," insisted Brassy. "It s made 
 of herbs, roots and nature s own remedies, and 
 contains no antimony." 
 
 Clem whispered into Brassy s ear: "I came 
 in a taxicab and " 
 
 "Whew but we re putting on dog. You 
 must have saved a lot of loved ones to-day." 
 
 "But I didn t want to come that way " 
 
 "Oh, that s all right, I won t feel bad. Street 
 cars are still good enough for me. Have you 
 seen this year s demountable rims and mohair 
 tops?"
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 307 
 
 "But I haven t paid for it yet." 
 
 "I understand just taken it on trial! See 
 if you can t get them to throw in an extra 
 set of tires." 
 
 Clem pinned Brassy in a corner and whis 
 pered into his ear. Brassy s face became more 
 serious. "By jooks, we d just better go down 
 and buy it and send the chauffeur home! I 
 haven t got enough to ride around the block; 
 I d have to get off at the first muddy crossing 
 and walk. If they were selling taxicabs two 
 for a quarter, I couldn t blow up a bicycle." 
 
 Clem put his hand on Brassy s arm. "It s 
 getting higher every minute." 
 
 "Give me room to think stand, I ve got 
 an idea!" He whirled away to the cashier s 
 window and came back smiling. "Got an ad 
 vance on next week s pay. Where s the ban 
 dit ... do you suppose he d take it out 
 in Universal ?" 
 
 The two hurried to the elevator and to the 
 street. Brassy paid the man. 
 
 "His job beats the old three-shell game," 
 said, Brassy, as he drew Clem into a cafe. "It s
 
 308 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 so respectable and you get to ride all the time, 
 too. . . . There s something on your 
 mind, Mr. Pointer. Is the loved one business 
 going bad? Don t the people believe it s light 
 as a feather and strong as a cable?" 
 
 "It s not that," answered Clem, and ex 
 plained about the Southern Development Com 
 pany. 
 
 At mention of the Southern Development 
 Company Brassy s eyes opened. "Say," he ex 
 claimed, "I heard Mr. Sayers, our vice presi 
 dent, talking about them the other day and he 
 knows all about them. They ve been putting 
 out a lot of bad stock and have been mixed 
 up in all kinds of shady deals. He ll tell me 
 how to go after them. When is the mass meet 
 ing in Curryville?" drumming his fingers. 
 
 "Monday night." 
 
 The finger march stopped. "Well, the Rai- 
 ley Fire-Escape Belt and the Universal Hog 
 Cholera Cure Company should have represen 
 tatives on the ground. I guess I can get an 
 other advance on my wages."
 
 BRASSY S IDEA 309 
 
 Stepping over to the telephone he called the 
 information bureau at the railroad station. 
 
 "Say," Brassy asked anxiously, coming back, 
 "haven t they got any other hotel there besides 
 the New Palace?"
 
 CHAPTER XVII 
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 
 
 AFTER the attempted lynching, Curryville 
 was humbled. The generous hearts of its 
 citizens were more than willing to make up 
 for what a few of the worst element had done. 
 Doctor Fordyce was quick to take advantage 
 of their regret. Outraged at first he was ready 
 to bring charges against the town, when an 
 other plan occurred to him. When definite 
 word came proving his alibi he flashed the pa 
 pers in the people s faces and was ready to 
 cram them down their throats. He talked of 
 an expensive lawsuit and of the damage to his 
 reputation. Suddenly his attitude changed. If 
 the people of Curryville would hold an imme 
 diate election, condemning the Bellows Bot 
 tom and give him an option on the lots for his 
 medicine factory he would say nothing more 
 310
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 311 
 
 about the great damage done him in his pro 
 fession as a physician. 
 
 Tuesday was set for the special election 
 which was to determine whether or not all the 
 property in the bottom was to be condemned 
 and offered to Doctor Fordyce for his prom 
 ised factory. Curryville had been in a state 
 of lethargy since the disappearance of Clem 
 Pointer, but now it was all excitement. The 
 two sides were about evenly divided. At the 
 city hall on Monday evening the question was 
 to be debated and the voting on the morrow 
 would settle the question once for all. 
 
 The crowd came early, massing down in 
 front of the railing. 
 
 Outside the railing sat Hulda, her black 
 dress drawn across her bosom as if the but 
 tons were just on the point of flying off, her 
 little black bonnet clamped over her forehead 
 as if no power could raise it. Her black tape- 
 bordered, palm-leaf fan scratched nervously 
 across the front of her black dress, while both 
 of her hands were rounded into balls by the 
 tight-fitting black cotton gloves. By her side
 
 3 i2 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 sat Mary Mendenhall, as if hovering near her 
 for comfort. Doctor Fordyce bowed elabo 
 rately; she reddened and responded with a 
 formal nod. 
 
 Abraham Lincoln had his ax raised, either 
 aiming at a log or threatening Thomas Jeffer 
 son just as he was bending over his quill to 
 attach his name to the document that declares 
 all men are born free and equal, while Na 
 poleon, with his hand in the bosom of his sur- 
 tout, looked over their heads far out to sea. 
 Gazing into the calm eye of the Little Corporal 
 with all its power and mystery you would 
 never guess that by turning the Man of Des 
 tiny over you would have as good a checker 
 board as you could want. 
 
 Rick Oody was busying himself raising and 
 lowering the windows and opening the railing 
 gate when Judge Woodbridge came rolling 
 down the aisle. The judge stopped to lay a 
 hand on his shoulder, at which Rick stiffened 
 with added importance. Two boys, whispering 
 in a back row, pointed to Rick and one of them 
 made a motion as if drawing an imaginary gun
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 313 
 
 from an imaginary hip pocket. All this so 
 frustrated Rick that he went back and lowered 
 the window to exactly the position he d found 
 it. 
 
 Inside the railing were the speakers. Rev 
 erend Sadnow and Mr. Kiggins, who were in 
 favor of pushing the vote through and allow 
 ing Doctor Fordyce the option, sat side by 
 side. Nobody realized the seriousness of the 
 situation more than the Reverend Sadnow; 
 he sat crouched down in his chair as though 
 some great hook had seized him under the 
 collar, swung him over the heads of the audi- . 
 ence and dropped him in a lump on the cane 
 seat. His hands were out of sight up his 
 sleeves and his head was pitched forward on 
 his breast. The sadness and the sins of the 
 world rested heavily on his shoulders; by his 
 expression you would think that he had been 
 called on to officiate at the tearing down of the 
 last pillar of Sodom rather than to argue for 
 a better, bigger, breezier Curryville. 
 
 At his side sat Mr. Kiggins, nervously run 
 ning his fingers through his beard, and casting
 
 314 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 a fidgeting eye over the growing crowd. His 
 glance shot here and there so that no one could 
 tell whether he was merely nervous or was 
 taking this opportunity to discover how many 
 in the audience owed bills at the White Front. 
 Still it was plain to be seen that Mr. Kiggins 
 was a martyr to the cause ; he was a sick man 
 and shouldn t be out at all, let alone at night. 
 Only civic pride would make him suffer so 
 and a chance to speak. 
 
 Opposed to the proposition were Mr. Ford, 
 father of Rencie, and Mr. Knabb, both un 
 popular at a glance. 
 
 Judge Woodbridge raised the gavel and the 
 table rattled. "We have assembled here to 
 night to discuss pro and con whether or not 
 we shall condemn by popular vote to-morrow 
 at the usual polling stations the plat of land 
 to the southwest of the city of Curryville, 
 Nodaway County, State of Missouri, Section 
 twenty-one, Range sixty-four, lots one to for 
 ty-two, commonly known as the Bellows 
 Bottom, so that said land, property and 
 assets may pass into the hands of Doc-
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 315 
 
 tor J. M. Fordyce, his agents, or party or 
 parties whom he may represent." Judge 
 Woodbridge was nothing if not legal. "First 
 on the program we are to have a recitation by 
 Miss Gertie Knabb, entitled Curfew Shall Not 
 Ring To-night/ 
 
 Gertie came swishing down the aisle, her 
 red bow on her hair standing straight out. 
 Taking her position she looked out over the 
 audience for a moment, swallowed something 
 that kept trying to crawl up into her mouth, 
 stepped back a pace, held one hand over her 
 heart and extended the other arm full length. 
 Her voice was a little bit high and her speak 
 ing hurried, but the feeling was there; when 
 the time came to swing on the iron clapper 
 she waved back and forth until the whole au 
 dience was swaying with her. Finally she 
 saved the day and went to her seat in a thun 
 der of applause, the thunder being especially 
 pronounced where Mr. Knabb sat. 
 
 "The discussion will be opened this even 
 ing," said the judge in his heaviest bass, "by 
 Mr. Kiggins, who will endeavor to show us
 
 3i6 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 why we should condemn lots one to forty- 
 two in Section twenty-one, Range sixty-four, 
 commonly known as the Bellows Bottom. 
 It gives me great pleasure to present 
 to you our fellow-townsman, Mr. Kig- 
 gins, a celebrated speaker, a prominent 
 citizen, a progressive merchant and proprietor 
 of the famous White Front Hardware Store. 
 Ladies and gentlemen, Mr. Kiggins." 
 
 A round of applause greeted Mr. Kiggins, 
 although every person in the hall knew him by 
 sight and name, and many of them had known 
 him for twenty years. 
 
 Mr. Kiggins advanced to the middle of the 
 platform and seized the thin-legged table on 
 which rested a pitcher of ice-water and a tum 
 bler. He seized a corner in each hand as 
 though the thin-legged table were going to take 
 to its heels and leave him all alone on the plat 
 form. His heavy hands, more accustomed to 
 clawing nails out of boxes, were never meant 
 to restrain a light table. The pitcher and glass 
 huddled together in fright. Mr. Kiggins eyes 
 wandered to and fro over the audience and
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 317 
 
 finally settled on a steel engraving over the 
 door at the end of the hall showing Elihu Bur- 
 ritt, the learned blacksmith, plying his bellows 
 with one hand and holding a book in the other, 
 absorbed at his task of mastering seventeen 
 languages. The tip of Mr. Kiggins tongue 
 slipped out and went sliding along his lips. 
 
 "Ladies and gentlemen," whined his high 
 voice, "we are met on this solemn occasion to 
 discuss a serious question of interest to every 
 man, woman and child in the confines of our 
 fair city." 
 
 There could be no doubt that it was a solemn 
 occasion. Mr. Kiggins looked as if the last ray 
 of hope had been blotted out and the sun had 
 risen for the last time. 
 
 "However, it gives me great pleasure to ap 
 pear before such an intelligent audience, an 
 audience composed of the flower of the intel 
 lect of our fair city." 
 
 The pleasure of Mr. Kiggins face was not 
 very apparent. 
 
 "I was afraid that I would not be able to 
 appear before you to-night. This afternoon
 
 3 i8 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 while I was helping load a barrel of salt I 
 stepped off a plank and jerked my back. It kind 
 of seemed to tear something out of me, like 
 as if something caught all your hair in one 
 wad and gave it a yank and lifted up your 
 scalp and some of the roots still stuck like 
 when you pull up sweet-potato vines. Just 
 a few scattering roots catching here and there 
 and the blood drippin down. Then the pain 
 went up into this shoulder" Mr. Kiggins 
 swung a heavy hand under his arm in the di 
 rection of the unfortunate part "and settled 
 there till this arm ain t any more good than 
 if it didn t belong to me. I hurt this shoulder 
 fourteen years ago and it ain t right yet, and I 
 guess : \L never be. But I said I ll stick it out 
 ii it kills me, and here I am." 
 
 There was a grim determination about him 
 as if while the ordeal was not exactly killing 
 him outright it was slowly sapping his vitality. 
 The only way to bear up in spite of the 
 wrenched shoulder was to keep a tight hold on 
 the table and an unwavering eye on the lin 
 guistic blacksmith.
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 319 
 
 "I have always had the interest of our fair 
 city at heart. Twenty years ago this spring 
 comin I moved to Curryville when a log cabin 
 where the post-office now is and a grist mill 
 down on Diedrich Bend was all the buildings 
 there was. I have seen this place grow steadily 
 from one store and a grist mill to its present 
 astonishing size." Mr. Kiggins hand lifted, 
 completed a circle which took in a territory 
 seemingly equal to half the size of the coun 
 try, and came back to its corner with a heavy 
 thud. "Then it was unknown ; to-day the fame 
 of Curryville has spread all over this state, 
 into adjoining states and has gone out, like a 
 wave when you throw a pebble into a pond, to 
 the two coasts and even in Canada. Curryville 
 stands for fairness, honesty, progress. It is 
 the city of homes, education and refinement. 
 If her fame is still to increase and grow until 
 it spreads to the four corners of the universe 
 we must be progressive and take on new fac 
 tories." 
 
 Mr. Kiggins was loyal to his fair city. To 
 him it was the greatest in the world; other
 
 320 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 towns might have more population but they 
 could not begin to compare with Curryville, 
 the city of homes, education and refinement. 
 
 Mr. Kiggins clapped his hands to his eye. 
 "What do I see?" he demanded, looking past 
 the humble blacksmith, who was still plying 
 his bellows, into the dim distance. 
 
 The audience turned involuntarily. 
 
 "I see a great city with smoke from a dozen 
 factories rising up into the blue heaven ; I see 
 paved streets and merry children playing on 
 the sidewalks, and shaded drives with fine 
 ladies whizzing up and down them in automo 
 biles, and men bowing and taking off their hats 
 to em. I see a new city hall out of white mar 
 ble and pigeons on the ridge-pole cooing to their 
 mates, and people down the street in silk hats, 
 and when one man comes riding down the 
 street in his automobile a cheer rends the air. 
 Who is that man ?" 
 
 Mr. Kiggins paused dramatically. The au 
 dience turned anxiously as if to see if by any 
 Chance it could be the ambitious blacksmith.
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 321 
 
 "Who is the man that is responsible for all 
 this?" 
 
 Mr. Kiggins raised his thick finger and 
 moved it around over the audience trying to 
 locate the party. But the man referred to 
 wasn t in sight. Mr. Kiggins looked nervously 
 over the hall again but still couldn t find him. 
 His listeners followed the finger expectantly. 
 
 "I repeat it, who is that man?" The finger 
 traveled once more over the crowd. "The man 
 is well known," filled in Mr. Kiggins, search 
 ing everywhere, "I might say he is well known 
 to every citizen in Curryville yes, to every 
 man, woman and child in our fair city. He 
 stands for fairness, honesty, progress. It is 
 the city of homes, education and refinement. 
 If her fame " 
 
 Doctor Fordyce appeared in the door. 
 
 "There, there he is!" exclaimed Mr. Kig 
 gins excitedly, while the whole audience turned 
 on the new arrival. "His name is is " He 
 stammered and colored while his hand swung 
 back to its corner. The name wouldn t come.
 
 322 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "His name is known to every man, woman 
 and child in our fair city. It is useless for me 
 to repeat it. He is the man who is going to 
 make the name of Curryville heard round the 
 world. When all his factories get goin turn 
 ing off his medicine and trucks backing up and 
 derricks loading them on, every bottle will be 
 an advertisement for our fair city. On the 
 wrapper of each one will be Dr. Fordyce s 
 Herb Specific Made in Curryville Accept no 
 substitute. These bottles will set on people s 
 pantry shelves year in and year out and the 
 name of Curryville will be constantly before 
 em. Every time they go into the kitchen or 
 take a dose of medicine they will think of our 
 fair city. Papers will write it up; they ll put 
 pictures of it on post-cards and property 11 
 double in value. We ll vote on it and the 
 county seat of Nodaway County will be moved 
 to Curryville and mebbe a sky-scraper will go 
 up where the White Front now is." 
 
 Cheers burst forth, lead perceptibly by Mrs. 
 Kiggins. Mr. Kiggins speech was a success; 
 the White Front had been mentioned. Under
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 323 
 
 a fire of admiring eyes Mr. Kiggins grasped 
 the glass with his heavy fingers, gulped a drink 
 and sat down. 
 
 During the applause Rick Oody slipped out 
 unobserved. 
 
 Mr. Ford was introduced to answer Mr. 
 Kiggins, but plainly his was not the popular 
 side. Hardly a ripple of applause helped him 
 to his seat. Curryville wanted the Fordyce 
 factories. 
 
 Reverend Sadnow was presented by Judge 
 Woodbridge to answer Mr. Ford and back up 
 Mr. Kiggins. 
 
 "Brethren and sisters," greeted Reverend 
 Sadnow sadly, taking his position squarely be 
 hind the table, both hands out of sight in his 
 sleeves, "all things must change. Grass withers 
 before the morning sun. The temples of yester 
 day are dust under our feet to-day. No one 
 knoweth whither we goeth; no one knoweth 
 whence we came. We are alive to-day and 
 buried to-morrow. Still, while we hover as a 
 shadow on this terrestrial footstool it behooves 
 us to do all we can to advance. We are as a
 
 324 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 breath on the window-pane but we can strive 
 higher, even during that brief moment. The 
 potentate of to-day feeds the worms of to 
 morrow, but we can live this hurried hour so 
 that when we lie down on the couch and draw 
 the counterpane over us we can go into that 
 unknown void from which no pilgrim returns 
 without a tremble or the quiver of an eyelid." 
 
 Reverend Sadnow looked sadly around as if 
 any moment expecting to see some breath fade 
 from the window or some hovering shadow 
 pass from this terrestrial footstool. The au 
 dience had been in good humor when Mr. Kig- 
 gins sat down, but now it began worrying 
 about the grass withering before the matutinal 
 solar onslaught and what would happen to the 
 poor unsuspecting potentates. Reverend Sad- 
 now s mission in life seemed to be to tell 
 everybody not to laugh since before you finish 
 you might be called into that unknown void 
 from which no pilgrim returns. 
 
 One little gleam of hope flickered through 
 the clouds. If the good citizens of Curryville 
 would vote favorably on the morrow and all
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 325 
 
 should get to work at once building a bigger, 
 better, brighter Curryville, taking care to see 
 that the church was reroofed, they possibly 
 might get something done before the breath 
 faded. Still it must be remembered that all 
 flesh was grass and that Sodom and Gomor 
 rah were destroyed in the twinkling of an eye 
 and that no time was to be lost especially 
 about fixing up the church. 
 
 Mr. Knabb tried to bolster up Mr. Ford s 
 attack, but those against the condemnation 
 were fighting up-hill. 
 
 Mr. Kiggins was allowed a few minutes for 
 rebuttal. 
 
 "To-morrow will go down in history," said 
 Mr. Kiggins from behind the table. "In years 
 to come it will be a holiday and there will be 
 speeches in honor of the man who came here 
 a stranger and we took him in. A bronze tab 
 let may be erected on this very spot to com 
 memorate our great victory. Our schools will 
 be the best, our factories the busiest, our fire 
 department the most up-to-date in the whole 
 state of Missouri. There is one person to
 
 326 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 whom" Mr. Kiggins thought a moment and 
 went back to the word with pride "to whom 
 most of the honor is due. Had he not been 
 snatched from our midst things would never 
 have come to a focus. It is to him the bronze 
 tablet should be erected. If anybody wants to 
 take up a collection, the White Front will be 
 the first one to throw in." Hulda loosened her 
 black-bordered handkerchief from her belt and 
 lifted it to her face under shelter of the palm 
 leaf. "Need I mention the name?" 
 
 "No, Mr. Kiggins, we all know the brother 
 you mean," said Reverend Sadnow in his 
 deepest voice. "Two months ago well and 
 happy, now only a blessed memory." 
 
 "What would he say about the election if he 
 was here?" demanded Mr. Kiggins, swinging a 
 thick thumb toward the fire house. "He owned 
 lots there and stood for fairness, honesty and 
 progress in this city of homes, education and 
 refinement. What would he say?" 
 
 There was a commotion at the back end of 
 the hall, just under the studious blacksmith,
 
 OUR FAIR CITY 327 
 
 and Rick Oody, in advance of two men, called 
 out at the top of his voice: 
 
 "He d say No! " 
 
 Rick stepped aside and there was Clem hesi 
 tating in the light, his face wrinkled into a 
 dozen smiles. At his side was Brassy. 
 
 Mr. Kiggins finger stopped in mid-air and 
 pointed to the wrinkled and smiling man, as if 
 he could not move it away. Every head in the 
 audience turned; a boy close down in front 
 stood up and soon the whole audience was 
 standing, all staring breathless and open- 
 mouthed. The silence held while the smiling 
 man bowed and waved a friendly hand in his 
 old familiar gesture. 
 
 Rencie s high voice was the first to break 
 the silence: "It s him," he screamed. 
 
 Hulda carefully laid her bordered fan to one 
 side, leaned over and fainted on Mrs. Kiggins 
 shoulder. 
 
 Reverend Sadnow came to his feet, pulled 
 his hands out and lifted one on high. "The 
 dead hath arisen," he boomed in his deepest 
 bass.
 
 328 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Mr. Kiggins walked to the edge of the plat 
 form and bent far over. "It s Clem Pointer !" 
 he exclaimed as if breaking the news to the 
 others. "Just like he allus was."
 
 CHAPTER XVIII 
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 
 
 THE silence that pressed over all in the 
 court room broke and the hall was in an 
 uproar, everybody talking at once. As Clem 
 passed slowly down the aisle, bowing and smil 
 ing, the people drew back in their seats; and 
 once when he reached out his hand the person 
 drew back as if demanding that the proffered 
 palm be proved earthly. 
 
 Slowly Clem worked his way to the front, 
 until he reached the long upright bench where 
 Hulda sat. In a moment his arm was around 
 her waist, and under the pressure her eyes 
 opened. "Is it really you, Clem?" she whis 
 pered, patting him on the cheek. 
 
 "Yes, Hulda, dear," his answer so slow that 
 even Mrs. Kiggins heard nothing. 
 
 When he released her he turned expectantly 
 329
 
 330 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 toward Miss Mendenhall. By this time the hall 
 was in an uproar, people calling his name, cry 
 ing out messages of welcome to him, words of 
 surprise and sentences of wonder that he was 
 still alive. Half a hundred were asking him 
 questions to which there was no answer and 
 as many more were reaching out hands to wel 
 come him back. But to all this Clem gave no 
 heed. He was looking steadily at Mary Men 
 denhall. 
 
 The girl s face colored and she swayed 
 slightly, but soon recovered herself. Doctor 
 Fordyce s poison had eaten in. Remembrance 
 of all that he had said against Clem came 
 rushing upon her; if Clem had made those in 
 sinuations against her she wanted nothing to 
 do with him. 
 
 Both of Clem s hands went out to her and 
 his eyes grew large before her. Then she 
 turned her back on him. 
 
 The clamor died away, away as if it were 
 on the far side of a hundred hjHs. He almost 
 regretted that he had come back. Something 
 besides love of his city and the desire to save
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 331 
 
 it in its hour of trouble had brought him back 
 to Curryville. Now this something had de 
 liberately struck at him. 
 
 Gradually he realized that somebody was 
 speaking to him. There was a far-away fa 
 miliar look about the figure. It was talking 
 to him. At last his eyes came to a focus on 
 it and he saw that it was Doctor Fordyce. 
 
 "We re glad to welcome you back," the doc 
 tor was saying. "Although you have made 
 me suffer much and brought much sorrow upon 
 me, all is forgiven. Without the comfort of 
 Miss MendenhalTs strength, I don t know how 
 I could have stood it. She has been such a 
 help" 
 
 This was salt to the wound. 
 
 Doctor Fordyce watched the effect of his 
 words. As he turned his face aside he smiled 
 slightly. He was satisfied. 
 
 The people thronged around Clem, asking a 
 hundred questions and satisfied with one an 
 swer. Where had he been ? What was the mat 
 ter? How was he feeling and did he know 
 about the fire in the livery barn?
 
 332 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Judge Woodbridge worked his way down 
 the aisle. "Isn t he a sight for sore eyes?" he 
 asked Hulda, standing delightedly near her. 
 "Clem s an awfully nice boy. He s oil to this 
 town it hasn t run right since he left." 
 
 Hulda beamed and in response slipped her 
 hand into her brother s arm. 
 
 Judge Woodbridge, after a smile equally di 
 vided between Hulda and Clem, edged down 
 to the platform and pounded with his gavel. 
 "I think we have covered the question of vot 
 ing pretty well," said Judge Woodbridge. 
 "Everybody think it over and to-morrow 
 everybody turn out and do his duty as a citi 
 zen." 
 
 "That s right," sang out Doctor Fordyce, 
 "everybody turn out and help put Curryville 
 on the map. There s just one way to do that 
 vote her straight." 
 
 A figure came plowing down the aisle and 
 leaped up on the platform. It was Rick Oody. 
 His fingers went into his mouth and brought 
 forth a whistle with more effect than Judge 
 Woodbridge s gavel had ever accomplished.
 
 o 
 
 Hi 
 
 U
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 333 
 
 "Ladies and gen lemen and everybody," 
 called out Rick, "it ain t all over yet. Mr. 
 Pointer wants to say a few words." 
 
 A dozen hands buoyed Clem along to the 
 platform. 
 
 Judge Woodbridge was flustered by the ex 
 citement of it all, but felt that he must say 
 something by way of introduction. "Ladies 
 and gen lemen," he said in Rick s manner 
 without knowing it, "the fatted son has re 
 turned to the prodigal calf. It will now 
 speak!" 
 
 Clem s eye roved the hall a moment, passing 
 by the scholarly blacksmith that had been such 
 an inspiration to Mr. Kiggins, and wavered be 
 tween Hulda and Miss Mendenhall. "Friends, 
 I am not going into details now of where I 
 have been or anything about it that ll come 
 out later. There s something else I want to talk 
 about. 
 
 "When I came to this town it wasn t much 
 bigger than a pound of soap after a hard day s 
 washing," Clem went on, seemingly at random, 
 "and now look at our new overall factory and
 
 334 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the new acetylene gas plant. We have stood 
 side by side and fought for a better city. A 
 couple of years ago it looked like we might 
 have it when that man wearing a tall hat came 
 here and talked about a railroad. But that 
 died down and we had a pun kin show to boost 
 things. Then Doctor Fordyce came." 
 
 Doctor Fordyce smiled and rocked content 
 edly back and forth on his heels. 
 
 "I remember what a hard struggle we all 
 had boosting for Curryville and how the time 
 the lightning rod agents came and got Uncle 
 Wash Hoosher to sign a contract for sixty 
 dollars, and when it turned out to be six thou 
 sand dollars how we all stuck together and 
 and Uncle Wash s still got his little eighty. I 
 recollect the time the Hinkson got on a ram 
 page and washed the roof off the Kennedy 
 house and how we all turned out and built em 
 a new house up the hill in two days and Judge 
 Woodbridge give em the bed out from under 
 him and had to sleep at the New Palace for 
 two nights now didn t you, Judge?"
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 335 
 
 Judge Woodbridge suddenly found it neces 
 sary to examine the head of the gavel. 
 
 "I don t have to look back very far to 
 the time four masked men swooped down 
 on the First National and how we 
 got em surrounded in the timber down 
 the river, and that s why Mr. Knabb has to set 
 with one leg stuck out in front of him you 
 can see him now and never a word of com 
 plaint from him. And the time the ice fell 
 down the brick water-tower and smashed it 
 open like a wet bag, who was it that run out 
 in his bare feet, grabbed Grandma Goodson 
 out of bed and carried her away before the 
 water and ice knocked in the side of the house ? 
 Yes, who was it, Jim Ford? I could go right 
 through every one of you and tell something 
 that way. When anything goes wrong with 
 one of us we are all brothers. We have our 
 little differences and squabble a bit now and 
 then, but bigger hearts never beat than we got 
 right here in Curryville. 
 
 "Now another danger has come up. The
 
 336 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 man with the tall hat has come back and is 
 planning a railroad through Curryville. From 
 the headquarters of the railroad the tip got out 
 and they found about where the road was 
 planned and a company of speculators is try 
 ing to get an option on on the Bellows Bot 
 toms! Once they get an option on it Curryville 
 will have to buy the land back from them to 
 hold out an inducement to the railroad. The 
 name of this company that is trying to get the 
 option is the Southern Development Company. 
 Their personal representative is in this hall to 
 night." Eyes turned around to Brassy in the 
 back part of the hall as being the only avail 
 able stranger present. "He don t wear a tall 
 hat but he does have on a long-tailed coat. 
 Probably Doctor Fordyce has heard of the 
 Southern Development Company." 
 
 Doctor Fordyce stopped rocking on his 
 heels. 
 
 "I am sure I don t know what you mean." 
 "Perhaps this will refresh your memory," 
 holding up a telegram. "It is dated from 
 Curryville. I will read it:
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 33^ 
 
 " Hop picking southeast by east Tuesday or 
 Rover dies a dead dog. Fordyce. 
 
 "Sammie," asked Clem, turning to the sta 
 tion boy, "do you remember sending this tele 
 gram ?" 
 
 "Yes," answered Sammie, "but it didn t 
 make any sense to me !" 
 
 "It was not intended it should. It is in cipher 
 and the word Tuesday means that the election 
 will be held to-morrow. Does that bring back 
 anything to you, Doctor Fordyce?" the accent 
 heavy on Doctor. 
 
 "Nothing whatever," returned Doctor For 
 dyce coldly. "Probably the same thing that 
 made you leave town is now causing you to 
 bring this accusation." He tapped his forehead 
 significantly. 
 
 "That has nothing to do with it," returned 
 Clem. 
 
 "I insist that it has," declared the other ag 
 gressively. 
 
 "Maybe, maybe," said Clem sweetly, "it was 
 to collect evidence against you. Has any one 
 ever seen any of your wonderful medicine?
 
 338 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 It s true you have a medical license, but where 
 have you practised in the last few years ? You 
 no more intended to put up a medicine factory 
 on the Bellows Bottoms than you expected me 
 to come back to-night." There was a flash and 
 a defiance about Clem that no one had ever 
 seen before. "I think the hop picking Tuesday 
 will be a bit harder than you calculated." 
 
 "You have no evidence at all except a tele 
 gram in a cipher which has to do with order 
 ing supplies for the factory." 
 
 "Do you usually order supplies in cipher?" 
 "This is the first order and it saves words. 
 Besides, that is only a circumstance didn t 
 the mob come just because one of the town 
 boys found my watch-charm near where you 
 left your hat and coat when you played that 
 deceitful game? Hadn t I been showing it to 
 you and hadn t you dropped it into your pocket 
 by mistake and forgot all about it? This is 
 much less evidence and you wish to make 
 charges against me on such a flimsy pretext. 
 I can not but believe that you have suffered 
 some cerebral accident." Doctor Fordyce
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 339 
 
 touched his head again to show just what he 
 meant. 
 
 Clem wavered a moment then collected him 
 self. "Why do you have to telegraph to the 
 Southern Development Company to order sup 
 plies?" he shot at the confident doctor. 
 
 Doctor Fordyce wavered. "Because I am 
 because they are my age because, don t you 
 see, I could not swing this whole deal myself 
 and had to get somebody to put in money with 
 me." 
 
 "So you are connected with the Southern 
 Development Company?" 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 Are you their agent ?" 
 
 Doctor Fordyce cast around for the right 
 answer. "Not that, but there is an under 
 standing." 
 
 "Were you ever in Joplin?" asked Clem 
 quickly. 
 
 "Yes." 
 
 "Were you the agent of this company there 
 last year?" 
 
 "I can t see that that has anything to do with
 
 340 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 the voting to-morrow. It seems to me we are 
 wasting good time." 
 
 "You are the man who put through that 
 crooked mining deal there only Fordyce 
 wasn t your name then. And what about the 
 timber deal in Texas County, this state? It 
 might be interesting to you to know that in a 
 few days you will have to answer these things 
 for the benefit of the prosecuting attorney. 
 There is a gentleman here to-night that I want 
 to say a few words. He has met Mr. Fordyce 
 before." Clem drew out the Mister with evi 
 dent relish. "He is a very dear friend of mine 
 Mr. Hagan." 
 
 Rick Oody opened up a way, and from the 
 rear of the hall came the rotund and smiling 
 Brassy. His clothes were neater and there was 
 about him a more substantial look. 
 
 At sight of the new speaker Miss Mary 
 Mendenhall caught her breath and edged over 
 toward Hulda, her face burning. 
 
 Brassy stumbled toward the table and an 
 chored. Naturally at home with words and 
 master of them before a small circus crowd,
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 341 
 
 his tongue now refused its mission. He stared 
 over the heads of the audience, but sight of the 
 hard-working mechanic over the rear door 
 brought no inspiration to him. Brassy held on 
 to the table as if all was lost save honor. 
 
 "This gentleman," said Brassy, pointing to 
 Doctor Fordyce, "if I may use the term, and 
 I have met before, I am sorry to say. I d be a 
 lot better off to-day if I d never formed his 
 acquaintance. So would my town. When he 
 got through with us there wasn t much left ex 
 cept our stand pipe and only its size made it 
 safe." 
 
 Doctor Fordyce popped up. "Yes, we have 
 met before, and I am surprised that he should 
 wish to recall the event. There is a presence 
 in this hall to-night that keeps me from telling 
 what I know about this man. If I should tell 
 some of the things that I know about him, just 
 and indignant citizens would never let him 
 spend the night inside the city limits. As long 
 as I respect womanhood I shall not tell the 
 public what I know about this man." 
 
 The audience was under Fordyce s spell, and
 
 342 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Brassy realized what he must overcome. He 
 straightened up at this scent of battle. 
 
 He needn t tell you about me I ll tell you 
 more than he can. He means that I used to 
 drink and gamble and was a follower of the 
 circus. That s what he means and I was. But 
 I ve reformed. Even at my worst I didn t drag 
 anybody else down, while this man Fordyce has 
 destroyed whole towns just as he is intending 
 to destroy this one. I ll admit that my family 
 is ashamed of me, but they re going to be 
 proud of me yet. Every word that Mr. Pointer 
 has told you to-night about this man is true 
 and he has barely scratched the surface. In 
 a few days the prosecuting attorney will tell 
 you more about him." 
 
 He addressed Fordyce directly. "Since 
 I saw you last I have thrown over 
 followin the circus and am now making 
 an honest living. Our president, Mr. Sayers 
 I guess you know who he is is on your trail, 
 too. The police in Kansas City are acquaint 
 ances of yours. You have met them. You 
 made such an impression on them that they
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 343 
 
 took prints of your fingers to remember you. 
 And here is something interesting." Calmly, 
 deliberately, Brassy s hand went into his 
 pocket, and in the hush that held all over the 
 hall, brought out two photographs. "One is 
 a front view and the other is a side view. You 
 didn t have all that beard then, that s the only 
 difference. They didn t charge you anything 
 for makin these pictures. The concern that 
 made them does quite a bit of free photograph 
 ing. You ll see down at the bottom it says, 
 Photo by the Department of Police. I guess 
 we know which shell you re " 
 
 Brassy stopped, speechless. His lips parted, 
 then closed without framing a single word. 
 His eyes were fastened on Miss Mary Men- 
 denhall. 
 
 Doctor Fordyce was quick to seize the op 
 portunity. Edging over he stood protectingly 
 by Mary s side. "Well, why don t you go on?" 
 he demanded. "Why do you keep staring at 
 Miss Mendenhall so?" 
 
 "Miss Mendenhall?" gasped Brassy. 
 
 "Yes, Miss Mendenhall. I resent it. I do
 
 344 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 not propose to have a drunken outcast come 
 in here and stare at a young lady in that way." 
 
 The audience stood in hushed silence, trying 
 to keep up with the changing scene. Brassy s 
 face worked convulsively for a moment, then 
 he backed toward a chair and covered his eyes. 
 
 Fordyce climbed on a bench the better to ex 
 ercise his power. "Friends," dropping his tone 
 to one of entreaty, "that is an example of the 
 men who are opposing me. Cowards, every 
 one. They are attacking me when I am trying 
 to do something to build up Curryville. Truly 
 ingratitude is sharper than a serpent s tooth. 
 My good people, stop and think for just one 
 moment what you are doing. Here is some 
 thing to remember. Crowds act hastily and do 
 things that they bitterly regret afterward. 
 You will remember you thought you had 
 enough evidence to convict me that night when 
 I hate to speak it when the mob came. A 
 pair of twisted and bent spectacles, belonging 
 to Mr. Pointer, were found in my room at the 
 hotel by a boy. When I told you that Clem
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 345 
 
 had forgotten them the day he came to my 
 room and I gave him the monkey you did not 
 believe me. A watch-charm belonging to me 
 was found by the river where the supposed 
 crime had been committed. When I told you 
 that I had given it to him and that he had 
 dropped it you refused to believe me. Both 
 statements have since turned out to be true. 
 To-morrow you people who wish to act hastily 
 to-night will be ashamed of yourselves. Now, 
 dear friends, is it fair to take this unknown 
 man s word against mine?" 
 
 Not a word was spoken by any one in the 
 audience, but still it could be seen that sym 
 pathy was running toward Doctor Fordyce. 
 
 "This man comes in here, no one knowing 
 who he is, and attacks me in public. The word 
 of a tramp is taken before mine. I have tried 
 to build up this town and am just on the eve of 
 establishing a new era here, when you allow 
 this outsider to come in and smirch my char 
 acter. Not content with that he must stare at 
 and discomfit one of our young ladies. What
 
 346 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 shall we do with the scoundrel? Shall we 
 throw him out?" Doctor Fordyce held up his 
 hand in an appeal. 
 
 There was a shuffling of feet and uneasiness, 
 as if a giant man was making up his mind. 
 Plainly sympathy was swinging to Doctor For 
 dyce and he knew it. "Sure, throw him out," 
 called out a voice, and the shuffling of feet 
 grew heavier. 
 
 "That s right," backed up another voice. 
 "Throw him out." 
 
 Somebody stepped in the aisle and a seat was 
 dragged aside as if to make room. 
 
 Before any one realized it Mary Mendenhall 
 was on her feet and standing at the edge of 
 the platform. "Friends, I wish to say some 
 thing," she began, and all eyes swung to her. 
 Her voice was not loud but there was a sup 
 pression in her manner that drew instant atten 
 tion. "I think I know why the speaker before 
 Doctor Fordyce could not go on. I think I 
 know why I was stared at so by this same per 
 son, and I think in me rests the solution of the 
 whole affair."
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 342 
 
 She paused and the audience stared eagerly 
 and listened breathlessly. 
 
 "It is because this man is my father." 
 
 No one moved ; there was not even the shuf 
 fling of feet. But the full significance had not 
 yet burst on them. 
 
 "He is my father. He had no idea I was 
 here, and that is the reason he was so surprised 
 to see me. Over some hot words I left home. 
 I have cried many a night since on account of 
 my foolish stubbornness. I have been using 
 only my first and middle names here and in 
 writing my books. I believe every word that 
 my father has said about his reforming and 
 I want to stand up here before you all and 
 say that I am sorry I left home and that if my 
 father will take me back I ll go with a happy 
 heart." 
 
 Brassy s eyes were fastened on her, his soul 
 drinking in the words. When she turned 
 toward him he rushed up and clasped her in 
 his arms. 
 
 "I don t know whether to say something or 
 not about Doctor Fordyce," she faltered, tuck-
 
 348 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 ing back a strand of hair. She was feminine 
 even in her moment of suspense. "I hate to 
 attack a person, but I feel that you should 
 know something about this Doctor Fordyce. 
 He has known all along who I am and has 
 threatened to tell to tell what my father has 
 just told you about himself. He has used this 
 as a club over my head and I foolishly have 
 said nothing. Now that I have my father back 
 I don t care what happens." 
 
 Again her face went on his shoulder and 
 Brassy s thick hand patted her tenderly. 
 
 There was no holding the crowd back as 
 they came surging around father and daughter 
 to offer congratulations, while Doctor Fordyce 
 stood alone in the corner, moody and sullen. 
 
 "So you used to travel with a circus, did 
 you?" asked Mrs. Kiggins. "I want you to 
 come over and visit us. I know you got a lot 
 of good stories. I love to meet circus people." 
 
 Clem wormed his way through the maze of 
 arms extended to shake hands with him and 
 reached Mary s side. She faced him and their 
 eyes met, but she would not be the first to give
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 349 
 
 in. She would be feminine, so stared coldly 
 for a moment, then lowered her eyes. 
 
 The meeting turned into a reception, all 
 struggling for a word with Clem. He ought 
 to have been perfectly happy, but he was not. 
 Instead he was miserable. It was the first time 
 in all his life he had been miserable in a way 
 that he couldn t put his hand on the pain. 
 
 Mrs. Kiggins elbowed up. "Don t things 
 come out curious?" she panted, reaching for 
 Clem s hand. "J ust night before last I had the 
 strangest dream. I seemed to be settin in a 
 great jumble of something might a been peo 
 ple and all of a sudden a cloud opened it 
 might a been a door and there was you, Mr. 
 Pointer, standing before me smilin . I could 
 see you plain as life. I didn t say anything 
 about it to anybody because I know how it 
 makes them feel, but I could a put my hand 
 on you. You remember I prophesied the death 
 of the little Kimmons girl that was killed in 
 the railroad switch. People who have such 
 gifts should appreciate em, shouldn t they? 
 You re looking well, Mr. Pointer."
 
 350 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Judge Woodbridge and Mr. Ford, who had 
 been talking in the corner, came bustling up 
 and seized Clem, one around the shoulders and 
 the other about the ankles. 
 
 "You ve saved Curryville," announced the 
 judge, "and you re the biggest hero this city 
 ever saw, and we re going to ride you down 
 the street on our shoulders." 
 
 Up went Clem, squirming and blushing. A 
 shout roused the rafters and every eye was 
 turned on him. "Quit, boys, I m no hero. I ve 
 got enough to be ashamed of, so let me go ; and 
 besides, anybody else would have done just 
 what I have." His tone was firm. "Put me 
 down, boys." 
 
 At last they hesitated and let him to his feet. 
 
 "But we want to do something for you," in 
 sisted Judge Woodbridge. "And besides, we 
 didn t do anything for you when you saved 
 Miss Mendenhall." 
 
 Mary dropped her eyes at remembrance that 
 she, too, had not shown herself grateful.
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 3-51 
 
 "Well, I tell you," said Clem, resting his 
 hand tenderly on the judge s wide shoulders, 
 "I m not deserving, but if you want to give 
 me a uniform for the fire department I d be 
 mighty glad to have it." 
 
 The judge reached up and patted the hand 
 with his own thick one. "Bless his heart, we ll 
 get him half a dozen suits and a fire-engine. 
 A town with two railroads needs a fire-engine, 
 doesn t it, boys?" 
 
 The shout of approval left no doubt. 
 
 At last the reception broke up, and out on 
 the curb Clem waited for Hulda. But when 
 she came she was not alone. At her side was a 
 stout protecting figure Judge Woodbridge. 
 Hulda was looking up into the judge s face 
 while he kept a careful hand under her elbow. 
 
 "Gee, how times change !" mumbled Clem. 
 
 He fell into step with them. 
 
 "Yes," said Hulda, answering his question 
 ing look, "you have surprised us, and I guess 
 we have you."
 
 352 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Yes, indeed, Hulda," said Judge Wood- 
 bridge, although the remark in no way fitted 
 in. But perhaps it was as good as any. 
 
 There was a happier look on Hulda s face 
 than Clem had seen there in years. Hulda 
 patted the judge s arm in the easy familiar 
 way women have always used to express their 
 happiness. Clem could not help seeing that 
 with all her splendid qualities, and her spotless 
 home keeping that there was something vital 
 lacking in her life. She was now patting it on 
 the arm, and at the sight Clem rejoiced un 
 til he saw Brassy and Mary standing at the 
 corner. His home-coming was bitter after all. 
 
 Clem was on the point of turning down a 
 side street, that Hulda and the judge might be 
 undisturbed in their happiness, when Brassy 
 reached out and fastened on his coat. 
 
 "Say, Mr. Pointer," called out Brassy, "I ve 
 got somethin to ask you some sweetly flow- 
 in syllables to pour into your ear. Do you 
 think that a man used to luxury the way I am, 
 and sleepin in the best hotels and on beds of
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 1 353 
 
 downy whiteness would be runnin any great 
 risk to put up in the New Palace?" 
 
 "If they hear you speakin that way about 
 our best-known hotel you d be about as popu 
 lar as Doctor Fordyce," answered Clem, al 
 though there was no merriment in his soul. 
 "But don t bother about the hotel, you come 
 right out to our house for the night." 
 
 Brassy clasped his hand and turned to Mary. 
 "Mary, I want to introduce to you the finest 
 man ever made on this little footstool. When 
 they made him they broke the mold so that 
 there s not another one like him in the world. 
 Mary, my daughter, this is Mr. Pointer." 
 
 Mary acknowledged the introduction grave 
 ly, suppressing her desire to throw aside all 
 reserve. 
 
 "This is a pleasure, Miss Hagan," said Clem, 
 then added, "on my part." 
 
 They stood awkwardly a moment, while 
 Brassy stepped over to speak to Hulda and 
 the judge. 
 
 Just the sight of Clem brought up Mary s
 
 354 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 pulse. A few hours before she had thought 
 that he had passed out of her life forever. 
 Now the familiar square face with its myriads 
 of lines running into the corners of his eyes 
 brought a new feeling over her. She thought 
 of the many things the people of Curryville had 
 said about him after his disappearance. He 
 had stolen into their hearts more than they 
 had realized. Once Mrs. Kiggins, when she 
 wasn t telling about her remarkable psychic 
 powers, had said that he could be of more com 
 fort than anybody in the world when a person 
 had the toothache. And one time Marshal 
 Jupes had said that there was some comfort 
 even in Clem s beating a person at checkers 
 he never crowed about it afterward. Slowly 
 all this dawned on her, and though her heart 
 tingled at Clem s presence she still hesitated 
 a feminine something still held her back. As 
 she looked at him she could not help remem 
 bering how he had carried her out of the flam 
 ing house in his arms, saving her life, and how 
 she had never thanked him. She wished to tell 
 him this, but still something kept her quiet.
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 355 
 
 Clem looked at her soberly a moment. 
 "Have they had any good fires since I been 
 away ?" 
 
 Mary laughed and the feminine something 
 was wiped away. 
 
 "No, we haven t had anything good since 
 you went away." 
 
 They started down the street together. 
 
 "I ran away to enjoy myself," said Clem, 
 "and nearly every hour of it has been misery. 
 I am so glad to get back that I don t know what 
 to do. It sounds good even to hear Mrs. Kig- 
 gins tellin about her psychic vision. You 
 couldn t run me out of Curryville now with a 
 prod. But an hour ago I didn t think that way. 
 An hour ago I was sorry that I had come back. 
 Can you guess why?" 
 
 Mary knew that he meant the way she had 
 turned aside at the hall. "Yes," she whis 
 pered, "I think I can. I don t know how it is 
 that people have that stubborn thing in them 
 that makes them fight back when they know 
 that they are wrong. Tell ma about every 
 thing."
 
 356 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 "Well, I left, and the rest of the time I have 
 been trying to get back. But that ain t what 
 I want to talk about. Did you really miss me, 
 Mary?" 
 
 Mary reached over for answer and did what 
 women have done for so many ages: she 
 patted him on the arm. And he understood, as 
 men have for so many ages. 
 
 Before they knew it they were at her house 
 and had turned in and seated themselves on the 
 porch. They sat in silence for a few minutes, 
 then Clem leaned toward her, and as the light 
 from the window cut across his face Mary 
 could read a new expression in the lines. Sud 
 denly Clem spoke, so suddenly as to startle her. 
 
 "I am a fool. That s what I am a plain 
 unvarnished fool. Nobody but a fool like me 
 would have run away from Curryville trying 
 to find happiness. I learned a lot of things 
 I found out that a fellow can t go out and hunt 
 for happiness. When he swabs out his gun and 
 goes out he won t ever get a shot at it ; but if he 
 will hang his gun over the door and be patient
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 357 
 
 happiness will come and settle down on his 
 gate-post. 
 
 "I was a fool for running away, and I sup 
 pose I will be a bigger one in another minute. 
 I am going to tell you something that will sur 
 prise you. This is it: I love you!" 
 
 Mary looked properly surprised. 
 
 "From the day I showed you through the 
 fire house I have loved you." At mention of 
 the fire house Clem straightened up with pride. 
 "But you seemed so far away that I did not 
 dare hope for anything better than just a smile 
 now and then. I ain t much on education I 
 ain t goin to say that I never had a chance, be 
 cause that s no excuse for a man to make but 
 I am studying and trying to be somebody. It s 
 mighty hard trying to be somebody alone. If 
 I just had some one to help me if I just had 
 you to help me I could be another man some 
 time. Now I am going to say something else 
 that may make me a bigger fool than ever. It 
 is this: Mary, I love you, and I want you to 
 marry me !"
 
 358 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Mary s mind went tumbling off into space. 
 She wanted to give herself to him at once; to 
 say, "I am here take me. I am yours." But 
 instead, out crept a hand that glided into his. 
 That was her answer. That was all that was 
 needed. Not a word was spoken. 
 
 Just then two figures appeared on the lawn. 
 One was stout and swung along with joyful 
 abandon; the other was slim and came noise 
 lessly as befits detectives. The stout one was 
 Brassy. 
 
 As the steps of Brassy and Rencie crunched 
 on the lawn there was a stir on the porch, and 
 when the two came up Clem s flushed face was 
 in shadow, while Mary sat at the other end of 
 the bench demurely fingering the end of a rib 
 bon. But her father s eye had not been de 
 ceived. 
 
 "Jumping crickets, but I never saw two peo 
 ple get acquainted the way you two have," 
 breezed Brassy. "I won t bother you, don t 
 worry. 
 
 "Mary, my girl, do you know I am real 
 dippy about Curryville? One thing, it s got
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 359 
 
 Clem, and another thing it won t have Fordyce 
 much longer. Don t you think your mother 
 would like to live here in a little vine-cov 
 ered cottage with a cat sleepin in the sun on 
 the front porch?" 
 
 "She would love it!" exclaimed Mary, and 
 the three drew together to make plans. But 
 Brassy had feeling enough not to stay long. 
 
 In a few minutes after Brassy left Clem got 
 ready to start home. That is, it seemed like a 
 few minutes. Before he got up to his own 
 house he realized how late it was and he ap 
 proached in fear and trembling, for he knew 
 Hulda of old. 
 
 At the door Clem paused in surprise, for 
 Judge Woodbridge was just leaving. 
 
 Hulda was smiles all over. 
 
 "Come over and set down," said she after 
 the door had closed on the judge, "and let s 
 have a good talk. I feel barrels of it coming." 
 
 She drew Clem s rocker up to his side of 
 the table and freshened the cushion with a 
 shake. Then she leaned back in her own chair 
 and folded her hands across her waist.
 
 360 WHEN TO LOCK THE STABLE 
 
 Clem placed the lamp squarely over the yel 
 low crack and sank back in peace and content 
 ment. "By jooks! there I m saying it, too 
 but anyway I m mighty glad to get home. You 
 couldn t get me away again if you tied my 
 feet." 
 
 Hulda s hand crept up to the yellow crack, 
 and Clem s slipped across to meet it. 
 
 "I m not a fit sister for you to come back 
 to, but I m going to be. And I m not going to 
 be so picayunish and faultfinding any more 
 and I m not going to wait till you re dead to 
 let you know that I love you, either. This 
 thing of waiting till the horse is stolen to " 
 
 A step sounded on the porch and knuckles 
 rattled at the door. 
 
 "You answer it, Hulda," said Clem, having 
 an idea who was coming. 
 
 Hulda gave her skirt a straightening shake 
 and opened the door. 
 
 It was Rick Oody with one shoulder sagging 
 down. "It s a present for you, Miss Pointer," 
 he said, and backed off the porch. 
 
 "Land sakes alive, what can it be? And
 
 JUST LIKE HIM 361 
 
 who d be givin me a present this time of 
 night?" 
 
 Eagerly she pulled off the wrapper revealing 
 a cannel-coal smoothing iron. 
 
 "Clem Pointer, ain t that just like you !" she 
 exclaimed, turning her head away and raising 
 the hem of her dress to her eyes. "You just 
 shut your eyes!" 
 
 Clem closed his eyes, Hulda tiptoed around 
 the table and bent over him. 
 
 "Now," she said, "you take this in the 
 kitchen so I won t look at it any more till morn 
 ing. If I was any happier I d " but she could 
 say no more. 
 
 Clem rose and started for the kitchen. At 
 the door he stumbled and gasped in astonish 
 ment. With a shrill cry of delight Garibaldi 
 had leaped on his shoulder. 
 
 THE END
 
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