The Canadian Record (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 8, 1920 Page: 3 of 8
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1
HI
THE COW
PUNCHER
By ROBERT J. C. STEAD
Author of
"K.'tchcner. and Other
Poems '
/
Illustrations by IRWIN MYERS
B
Copyright by Harper A Brothers
"This is tlie night," he explained.
"You will find him alone In his office.
I will be waiting to hear from you
at—'' he quoted Mrs. Hardy's tele-
phone number. Then he drove his car
to the Hardy home, exchanged a few
words with Irene, and sat down to a
band of cribbage with her mother.
Poring over his correspondence,
Dave, with his ear cocked for the cry
of the latest extra, spent the evening
hours in a valiant effort at concentra-
tion.
There came a timid knock at the door.
"Come in," he called.
No one entered, but presently he
heard the knock again. lie rose and
walked to the door. Outside stood a
young woman.
"If you please," she said, "excuse
me, but—you are Mr. Elden, aren't
your*
"Yes. Can I help you In any way?"
The woman tittered a moment, but
resumed soberly: "You will wonder
at me coming to you, but I'm from the
country. Did you think that7"
"I suspected it," said Dave with a
smile. "You knocked—" He paused.
"Yest"
"Like a country girl," he said, boliHy.
She tittered again. "Well, I'm lost,"
she confessed. "I got off the train a
short time ago. My aunt was to meet
tne, but there are such crowds in the
street, I must have missed her. And I
saw your name on the window and I
had heard of you. So I just thought
that I'd ask—if you wouldn't mind—
showing me to this address."
She fumbled in her pocket, and Dave
invited her into the office. There she
produced a torn piece of paper with
an address.
"Why, that's just a few blocks!"
said Dave. "I'll walk around with
ynii." He turned for his hat, but at
• bat moment there was another timid
km rk on the door, lie opened if. A
boy of oiirii! or ten years stood outside.
"What is 11, son?"
The lad looked shyly about the of-
fie.'. Ii was evidrnt lie was impressed
will; iis magnificence. "Are you Mr.
Elden that sells lots';"
"Yes. Were you thinking of buying
a few lots?"
"1'iif you sell lots to m.v father?"
"Well, if 1 knew your father's name
perhaps 1 could tell you. Who is your
father?"
"He's Mr. Merton. I'm his son. And
he said to me, before he got so bad. he
said, 'There's just one honest man In
this city, and that's Mr. IDlden.' Is
that you, Mr. Elden?"
"Well, I hope it is, but I won't claim
such a distinction. I remember your
father very well. Did he send you to
me?"
"No, sir. He's too sick, lie don't
km w anybody now. He didn't know
mi tiimghi." The hoy's voice went
ilii.-l; and he stopped and swallowed.
"And I hen 1 remembered what he said
about you, and I just crime."
"Have you help — a doctor — a
nurse?"
"No, sir. We haven't any money.
My father spent it all for the lots that
he bought from you."
Dave winced. Then, turning to the
young woman: "I'm afraid this is a
more urgent case than yours. I'll call
a taxi to take you to your address."
To his surprise, his visitor broke out
in a ribald laugh. She had seated her-
self on a desk and was swinging one
foot jauntily.
"It's all off," she said. "Say, Dave,
you couldn't lose me in this burg.
You don't remember me, do you? Well,
all the belter. I'm rallier glad I broke
down on ibis job. I used to be some-
thing of an actress, and I'd have put
It over if it hadn't been for the kid.
The fact is, ,Dave," she continued, "1
was sent up here to decoy you. It
wasn't fair lighting, and I didn't like
it. but money has been mighty slow
of late. 1 wonder—how much you'd
give to know who sent me?"
Dave pulled some bills from his
pocket and held them before her. She
took them from his hand.
"('onward," she said.
Dave's blood went to his head. "The
scoundrel!" he cried. "The low-down
k
Dav«'s Blood Went to His Head.
Scoundrel!" He Cried.
The
dog! There's more in this than ap-
pears on the. surface."
"Sure there is,' she said. "There's
another woman. There always is."
Elden walked to his desk. From a
drawer he took a revolver, toyed with
it a moment in his hands, broke it:
open, crushed it full of cartridges, and
thrust it in lit.- pocket.
The girl watched with friendly in-
terest. "Believe me, Dave," she said,
"if Conwartl turns up missing I won't
know a thing—not a d thing."
For a moment he stood irresolute.
He could only guess what Con ward's
plan had been, but that it had been
diabolical and cowardly, and that it
concerned Irene, he had no doubt. His
impulse was to immediately confront
Conward, force a confession, and deal
with him us the occasion might seem
to require. But bis eye fell on the boy,
with Ids shock of brown hair and wist-
ful, half-frightened face.
"I'll go with you first," he said, with
quick decision. Then to the girl, "Sor-
ry 1 must turn you out, but this case is
urgent."
We are running a bank for tho pub-
lic—one that considers only you
and your needs.
We are not so much concerned over
what we think is reasonable and
proper as we are over the handling'
of your affairs to your entire sat-
isfaction.
It sound banking advice will per-
mit your every wish will be grant-
ed here.
wc Isaacs; pres. .
, sam l,sa'acs,':yice,.pft?es..
ca0rtai>,v$^?lusr amd Pnorrri #90,000.00
G.L A DDIS ON, CASHIER
R.C. JACKSON, AS*?T CASH.
CANADIAN. TEXAS.
"Thai's ail right, ', she said. "I'm
need io being turned out." And before
he knew it she was in the street. ,
"All i'i'.:hl, son," said Dave, taking
up die mailer now in hand. "What's
your namt—your first name?"
'"'harlie."
"And your address?"
The boy mentioned a distant sub-
division.
"That is out, isn't it? Well, we'll
take the car. 1 guess I'd better call
a doctor at once."
He went to the telephone and gave
some directions. Then he and the
boy walked to a garagi) and in a few
moments were humming along the by-
streets into the country. Dave had
already become engrossed in his. er-
rand of mercy and his rage at Coil-
ward, if not forgotten, was tempo-
rarily dismissed from his mind.
He chatted with the boy.
"Vou go to school?"
"Not lids year. Father has been
too sick. Of course, these are holidays,
and he says he'll be all right before
they're over."
Dave smiled grimly. "The incurable
optimism ol' it," be Murmured to him-
self. Then outwardly: "Of course lie
will. We'll fix bin. up in no time
with a good doctor and a good nurse."
They drove on through the calm
Dlglit, leaving the city streets behind
and following what was little more
than a country trail. Here and there
they bumped over pieces of graded
street, infinitely rougher than the nat-
ural prairie; once Dave dropped his
front wheels into a collapsing water
trench: once he just grazed ail Iso-
lated hydrant.
"And this is one of our 'choice res-
idential subdivisions,"' said Dave to
himself. "Fine business! Fine busi-
ness !"
As the Journey continued the sense
of Self-reproach which had been
static In him for many months became
more insistent. The intrusion of Con-
ward into his mind sent the blood to
his head, hut at that moment his re-
flections were cut short by the boy.
"We will have to get out here," he
saltl. "The bridge Is down."
Investigation proved him to be
right. A bridge over a small stream
had collapsed and was slowly disin-
tegrating amid its own wreckage.
Dave ran the car a little to one side
of the road, locked the switch and
walked on with the boy.
"Fine business I" Dave repeated to
himself. "And this is how our big
success was made. Well, the 'suc-
cess' has vanished as quickly as it
came. I suppose there is a law some-
where that is not: mocked."
They were passing through a set-
tlement 'of crude houses, dimly visible
in the starlight and by occasional yel-
low blurs from their windows,. Before
one of the meanest of these the boy
at last stopped,- pulled the door open
and Dave entered. At first he was
conscious of a very small and stuffy
room, Wi-th a peculiar odor which he
attributed to an oil lamp burning on
a box. lie walked over and turned
the lamp up, but the oil was con-
sumed: a red, sullen, smoking wick
was its only response. Then he felt
in his pocket and struck a match.
The light revealed the dinginess of
the little room. There was a bed
covered with musty, ragged clothing;
a table littered with broken and dirty
dishes and pieces of stale food; u
stove cracked and greasy, and one or
two bare boxes serving as articles of
furniture. But it was to the bed
Dave turned, and with another match
bent over the shrunken form that
lay almost concealed amid the coarse
coverings. He brought his face down
close, then straightened up and stead-
led himself for a moment.
"He'll soon he well, don't you think,
mister? He said he would be well
when the holidays—"
But Dave's expression stopped the
boy, whose own face went suddenly
wild with fear, "lie is well now,
Charlie," he said, as steadily as he
could. "It is all holidays now for
him."
The match had burned out and the
room was in utter darkness. Dave
heard the child drawing his feet
across the tloor, then suddenly whim-
pering like a thing that had been mor-
tally hurt, lie groped toward him.
and at length his fingers found his
shock of hair. He drew the boy
slowly into Ids arms; then very, very
tight. . . . After all, they were or-
phans together.
"You will come with me," he said
at length. "I will see that you are
provided for. The doctor will soon
he here, or we will meet him on the
way, and he will make the arrange-
ments for—the arrangements that
have to be made, you know."
They retraced their steps toward
the town, meeting the doctor at the
broken bridge. Dave exchanged a
few words with him in low tones, and
they passed on. Soon they were
swinging again through the city
streets. Even with the developments
of the evening pressing heavily upon
his mind Dave could not resist the
temptation to stop and listen for a
moment to bulletins being read
through a megaphone.
"The kaiser has stripped off his
British regalia," said the announcer.
"He says he will never again wear
a British uniform."
A chuckle of derisive laughter ran
through the mob ; then someone struck
up a well-known, refrain—"What, the
h do we care?" Up and down the
street voices caught up the chorus.
. . . Within a year the bones of
many In that, thoughtless crowd,
bleaching on the fields of Flanders,
showed how much they cared.
Dave drove direct to the Hardy home.
«« . - ,i,.inv Irene met him at
i,, | (CONTINUED ON PAGE SIX)
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Loomis, L. P. The Canadian Record (Canadian, Tex.), Vol. 27, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, January 8, 1920, newspaper, January 8, 1920; Canadian, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth125431/m1/3/?rotate=90: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Hemphill County Library.