The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 31, No. 88, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 16, 1934 Page: 2 of 4
four pages : ill. ; page 22 x 15 in. Scanned from physical pages.View a full description of this newspaper.
Extracted Text
The following text was automatically extracted from the image on this page using optical character recognition software:
THE LAMPASAS LEADER
The Golden Junk-Pile
By BERNARD MEER
(Copyright, by Joseph B. Bowles.)
HE door of the barrel
w house opened and Snag-
§jt gles, the hobo, was hus-
|H ^ tied into the street. It
vl|i ™ A was not an occurrence
particularly painful to
the personal dignity of Snaggles, be-
cause he was used to it. From Minne-
apolis to Jacksonville, from Boston to
San Francisco, and at all the railroad
points between, he had been the un-
complaining subject of similar atten-
tions, which were philosophically ac-
cepted by him as part of the unpleas-
ant aspect of his profession.
To be flung from a comfortable
barrel house on a nippy autumn eve-
ning, for no fault of your own, if it
be not your failure to have collected
your customary tax from the stray
members of the body politic whose
duty and pleasure it is to provide
for the needs of the unsegregated in-
digent, may not be especially depress-
ing to the finer sensibilities of a man,
but it is nevertheless a temporary in-
convenience. It implies the grim
necessity of certain muscular move-
ments, and a certain quantity of men-
tal work by no means joyful when the
collection of direct taxes is the prin-
cipal purpose of the labor. And
when Snaggles, standing on the ulti-
mate edge of the sidewalk, shifting
himself from one foot to the other, and
glancing along the vista of the street
from right to left and from left to
right, computed his chances for rais-
ing the wind, his mind was a trifle
perturbed.
Earlier in the day Snaggles had ar-
rived in the freight yards at Chicago
after a highly unsatisfactory trip
from Saint Paul, during the course of
which he had been manhandled by
various over-active and zealous guar-
dians of the property of railroads;
iand his collections, since his advent
ifn the town, bad been annoyingly if
not distressingly light.
Now when the barrel house,—your
last available retreat in an uptodate
and wide-awake condition of human
society,—flings you into the street as
an- object altogether too heavy and
cumbersome for the traffic, your so-
cial problems become personal and
pressing.
Miles away from the spot in the
slums where Snaggles was standing
the light from an ashlar palace
streamed through glistening windows
on the trees and shrubbery of a
boulevard; and at the carriage door
of the palace a huge auto car was
breathing impatiently as if it were
eager for the touches of the man that
was lolling at the wheel. The car
had been waiting long, and the wheel-
man, although theoretically a part of
the machine, and generally assumed
to be devoid of all human fallings
■whatever, had begun to complain and
to Curse under his breath at the per-
verse and diabolical malice, or the
criminal neglect' and apathy of his
employers.
Warm light and the sound of voices
raised to an excited pitch poured
through the open doorway. There was
a confused shuffling of feet and an in-
teval of dead silence. The silence was
broken by commingled notes of dis-
gust, disapproval, contradiction and
disappointment, giving evidence of
presence of several men and women
all talking at once or all silent at
once. And then the clear voice of a
man rang out, almost in anger.
“Jennie. I forbid you-”
"Forbid fudge!” querulously an-
swered the voice of a lady. “Forbid
fiddlesticks, Randolph! Do you im-
agine that I am going to be a fool
just because you are one yourself?
Great Heavens, husband, we have
only three hours left! Don’t you touch
me, Randolph, or I’ll scream! Do you
comprehend? I’ll scream. I’m per-
fectly calm, but I’ll scream. I’ll
ecream on the spot."
The cracked demoniac laugh of a
man floated out of the doorway, and
was followed by the lady of the voice
herself. She paused a moment and
spoke to someone within.
“Come oh, Mr. Huntley! You know
I have a right to do this, no matter
what he says.”
The lady was respectfully obeyed
by a clean-cut elderly gentleman with
a beamy peaceful face and a restful
eye, and then by a younger and more
fashionable fellow, who peremptorily
ordered the chauffeur to be gone, and
took the place at the wheel himself.
A3 the lady was about to enter the
car she was manifestly troubled in
spirit and she spoke to the young
man who had substituted himself for
the chauffeur.
“Dear me, Robert, where are you
going to take us?”
"Leave it to me, Jennie! You and
Mr. Huntley just get in, and I’ll do
the rest of it. Don’t waste any time
talking, Jennie. Get in, both of you!”
The machine was already shudder-
ing, but the elderly gentleman leaned
forward before entering, and whis-
pered a few words in the ear of the
wheelman, who lifted his head and in-
stinctively recoiled, as if from a high-
ly? disagreeable order or request.
“What? Not to that place? Not
there! No!”
“Yes,” firmly replied the elderly
gentleman, with a serene smile. “I
Insist upon it- I will tell you when
to stop.”
The car shot out into the boule-
vard and loudly purred at danger
apeed along the quiet, smooth roadway,
leaving the arc lamps behind it as if
they, were one long continuous streak
Of whiteness. In Its crazy twice to the
city the huge machine rocked like a
Pullman and startled the world with
the fury of its speed.
Going he undoubtedly was, for with-
in a very few minuteB after Snaggles
had taken up his position at the curb
the glittering, fuming car was stand-
ing before him, and the temporary
chauffeur was addressing him in a
loud imperious voice.
“Are you a hobo?”
Snaggles stared at the man as if he
and the car had fallen out of the
sky.
“Eh?”
“Are you a hobo, I say? Can’t you
answer me?”
“Yes.”
“Clean down and out? Clean bust-
ed?”
“Yes. Don’t I look it?”
“Then get in there, quick!”
The door of the car meanwhile had
been opened, and Mr. Huntley, with
head well out, was watching and lis-
tening with the utmost attention.
Snaggles, in a perfect whirl of con-
fusion, was still staring at the glit-
tering outfit, the handsome and rich-
ly garbed woman within it, and the
kindly faced gentleman at the door.
“Get in there, will you? If you
don’t, I’ll come down to you and
throw you in!”
He made a swift calculation on the
enormous shoulders of the wheelman;
he looked at tne threatening frown
on his face, and he daintily stepped
into the car.
“How do you do, Mr. Hobo,” said
the lady, taking his hand in her own
and warmly pressing it. “Be seated.
No. You must sit here, right here,
next to me!”
“Gee!” said Snaggles, as he looked
Into the eyes of the lady at his side,
and opened wide his own eyes in the
overflow of his feelings when she
smiled at him like a goddess that
had been made into flesh.
The lady expressed a wish to know
his name. His name? Well, his name
was Snaggles. Snaggles? What a
quaint name to be sure! Was It his
patronym? Well, no. It wasn’t ex-
actly that. It was his teeth. His
right name was Delaney. Quincy De-
courcey Delancey. Charming! And
how had he happened to change it?
But the auto car had already drawn
up before the ashlar palace in the
boulevard, and Snaggles was escorted
through a richly furnished reception
room and hall into a large and bril-
liant apartment, where a cluster of
eight or ten persons were waiting in a
state of obvious anticipation. As he
entered the room he was announced
by the goddess to the other goddesses
and gods in this mysterious heaven of
an Olympus, and was cordially re-
ceived by them all.
The men came forward and grasped
his hands, and the women embarrass-
ed him with their attentions. He was
led to chair that worried him con-
siderably, so comfortable and easy
was its architecture, and as he re-
clied in its soft embraces he had time
to take stock of the general character
of his strange and inscrutable hosts.
Men and women they were in all
stages of life, from smooth and rosy
youth to wrinkled* and flabby age.
Some were handsome and healthy,
some were ugly and ill, but all of
them by their manner and appearance
were unmistakably of that class of
persons that know what it means to
be rich. There were two things, how-
ever, that' puzzled him, and that puz-
zled him more than all the other mys-
terious events of this remarkable
night. The first of these was the
close presence, on either side of his.
chair, of the kindly faced elderly gen-
tleman and that of a younger com-
panion, who were standing as a sort
of guard over him, carefully watching
the others of the company, and pay-
ing particular attention to every syl-
lable addressed by any of the com-
pany to the guest of the evening, who
was apparently Snaggles himself.
The other thing that puzzled him was
the unconcealed anxiety and impa-
tience of nearly everybody In the
place with concern to the hour and
minute of the night. They seemed
to be constantly consulting their
watches, and giving vent to incoher-
ent mutterings and rumblings of dis-
satisfaction that Snaggles could not
understand.
He had scarcely become warm In
the chair when the young man who
had played the part of chauffeur
came over to him and with a vain
pretence at’ goodfellowship touched
him lightly on the shoulder.
“Bath, old boy?” he said. “How
would you like a bath?”
Before he could make a reply, the
former chauffeur, with the assistance
of one of his younger and vigorous
friends, took Snaggles by the arm and
led him up a gorgeous stair, and into
a shining marble bathroom, curiously
heavy with the scent of strangely per-
fumed soaps and other mysterious
materials of luxury, and hung with a
wonderful variety of towels and
brushes, the like of which had never
before been seen by the human eye.
At his elbow, meanwhile, had follow-
ed the kindly faced gentleman and his
younger companion, who remained in
the bathroom while the two young
gentlemen, with the skill of profes-
sional rubbers, rapidly stripped the
hobo, showered him, scraped him and
scrubbed him with soap and rough
masses of fibre, sprayed him, dipped
him in the refreshing waters of the
pool that shimmered in the corner,
and rubbed him down with invigorat-
ing coarse towels. And then, as If to
complete the work of their hands,
they escorted him naked to a pleas-
ant apartment nearby, shaved him
clean, perfumed him, gave him soft
and fleecy garments, white shirt and
stiff high collar, patent leather shoes,
and a full outfit of evening clothes
from the tie to the flower at the but-
tonhole. When this was done the
former chauffeur jovially nudged him
in the breast.
“Coursey, old boy, you’re a new
man now, and we’d like to have the
honor of entertaining you at supper.”
He was led by the four men down
the stairway and into a softly illumin-
ated dining room, where a table deco-
rated with roses and wax tapers, and
equipped for the service of a single
eater, was waiting. Here, after the
administration of bland insidious
cocktails, they fed him with five or
six courses of daintily cooked food,
each one of which, reinforced by its
appropriate wine, stimulated his ap-
petite for the one that was to follow.
Rare German clarets, generous nut-
flavored sherries, port as old as the
Braganzas and as thick as the blood
of an ox, and subtle champagne from
the right place in France, mingled
their : pirits with those of the invig-
orating food until Snaggles’s face
glowed with the life that was bound-
ing through his blood vessels. And
then they led him back to the great
salon of the palace and tendered him
an open box of cigars.
The physical outward transforma-
tion of Snaggles was not more mira-
culous than that which had transpired
within him. Already he had begun to
feel that this was the normal, natural
condition of his mind and body, and
that these were the surroundings to
which he had been accustomed from
his birth. True, he was a trifle con-
strained when he thought of convers-
ing at his ease, a constraint that was
by no means relieved by the increas-
ing anxiety of his new found friends,
on whose faces was written a nervous
and irritable impatience that grew
with the passing of the hours. Snag-
gles could not help being struck again
with the close watch that was main-
tained over him by his two mysterious
guards, and the curious consultation
of their watches by the company in
general.
“Hang the old fool!” said one of
them in a tone of disgust. “Why
couldn’t he act like a gentleman in-
stead of putting us to all this infernal
bother?”
But the argument, whatever it was,
was apparently ended, for his hosts
suddenly surrounded him, one of them
seeming to act as the spokesman for
the others.
“Delancey,” said this gentleman,
with a poorly repressed look of dis-
gust, as if he did not like to do it, but
had to, “you are a lucky man. Your
days of hobo life are over. You have
fallen into a soft berth, Delancey, and
you can make up your mind for easy
living the rest of your mortal days.
You’re going to live in Easy street,
Delancey, with a valet to wait on you,
and all the good grub and booze you
can eat and drink thrown in. We’ll
give you everything you ask for, De-
lancey—everything. You can have
feather beds in winter, if you want
’em, and electric fans, or refrigerated
rooms, if you want ’em, in the sum-
mer. All you’ll have to do is live,
you know, Delancey—live and let peo-
ple wait on you. What do you say to
that?”
What did he say to that?
It was a question.
To begin with, Snaggles was not
particularly impressed with the face
of the spokesman, or with his pecul-
iar manner of address. And Snaggles,
to end with, was wonderfully embold-
ened and befuddled with wine. He
looked severely at the spokesman, in-
to whose face, without special intent,
he blew a cloud of smoke from the
cigar. He stared impudently into the
faces of the circle, unable to inter-
pret the eager questioning of their
eyes, but seemingly alive to the fact
that in one way or another, for one
reason or another, he, to them, was an
important factor in the game they
were playing, whatever the game may
have been. He began to feel that he
had the advantage of them; that he
was their master In a way; and that
he, not they, was the party to make
the terms. What did he say? This is
what he said:
“Don’t I get any money at all?”
It was certainly astonishing how
they were all consulting their watches
—astonishing in the highest degree.
But astonishment was intensified Jje-
yond all human power of expression
when the former chauffeur suddenly
seized Snaggles by the collar and
elbow, rushed him out of the room,
out through the long hall to the rear,
out through the back yard, and
through the gate of the back yard,
and duihped him in a ditch that had
been left by some workmen in the
alley.
For a few moments Snaggles lay on
his back and looked up at a bright
star that was shining serenely above
him. He lay on his back because his
mind was as yet unconnected with the
actual things around him. There was
a star up there, and a ditch here be-
low on the earth; but his mind itself
was still saturated with langorous
fumes of luxury, and persisted for a
while in dwelling in the midst of the
things from which it had been so
suddenly and violently torn. But the
wholly incomprehensible nature of the
proceeding, to say nothing of his
quick contact with the cool air, and
with the cooler bottom of the ditch,
soon recalled him to the red realities
of existence. To his rapidly clarify-
ing perception it was beginning to ap-
pear that he had been idly dreaming
somewhere in a box car and had been
suddenly jolted awake. And yet he
was forced to dismiss this foolish im-
pression as he became conscious of
the high stiff collar that circled his
throat, and of the soft texture of the
doe-skin habiliments that clothed him.
He scrambled out of the ditch and
stood glaring at the lights in the
ashlar palace, his head nodding with
the tremendous mental effort he was
making to square himself with the
curious facts within that ashlar pal-
ace and the astounding facts without.
While in this attitude he was yet
again amazed by the reappearance of
his late assailant, who flung open the
gate and approached him.
“Sorry, old boy! Deuced sorry!”
and he laughed in a dismal, hollow
fashion, like a man in a forlorn hope.
And yet, in spite of all that, he cor-
dially shook hands with Snaggles, so
that his words and actions gave the
lie to his laugh. “Made a mistake,
don’t you know. Didn’t mean to do it,
at all, don’t you know. Come back,
old boy! They are waiting for you.”
And Snaggles now observed that
the two men who had accompanied
his capricious manhandler, and form-
ed an escort for the return trip to
the house, were his former friends,
the guards. They worried him, those
guards. Why were they watching him
so closely and sticking to him so
faithfully? And what was the mean-
ing of this extraordinary crazy-quilt
of fact of which he himself was the
principal bit of insanity? Snaggles,
in short, was beginning to get his
bearings. It was true that while ac-
customed to all sorts of strange ad-
ventures, and to quick changes of
many kinds in the ups and downs of
his profession, he had been dazzled
and diverted a little by the unusual
setting of the stage in the present
performance. But his recent dip into
the cool air had brought him to his
senses. It was manifest that this was
not a merry jest, rigged up for the
amusement of the ladies and gentle-
men in that big house on the boule-
vard. Not a jest by any means. And
he now proposed to himself that he
would go through with it to the end,
and turn it to his advantage If he
could. The opportunity presently
came, or apparently came, when he
had been reseated in his comfortable
chair and the status quo ante re-
stored, with the guards remounted in
their old positions and everybody
with watch in hand as before.
Again the spokesman came forward,
and again the company formed a semi-
circle about the chair, eager in face
and attitude.
“Delancey, we are sorry that our
young friend here -was so hotheaded
and precipitous in rushing you out
and throwing you into the ditch in
that impromptu fashion. Sorry in-
deed, old man. Really sorry, don’t
you know. By the way, I believe it
was your remark about the money
that irritated him a little, but he’s
sorry for it now, and we hope that
you will see your way clear to for-
getting it. Disagreeable things hap-
pen to us all, once in a while, old
man; to all of us. I say, Delarcey,
here’s a hundred-dollar bill for you!
Do you want it?”
But the spirit of Snaggles had been
roused. He looked at the money, and
then at the man, and then at the
company in general; and he recovered
his nerve as he spoke.
Was this here money counterfeit? .
Oh, no! It was as good as gold.
In that case Mr. Delancey would
explain his position. True, he was a
hobo. There was not any doubt about
that. And he was a hobo that was
in no wise disposed to come to blows
with people who could feed him on
■champagne and. throw him in. a ditch.
But if the ladies and gents believed
he was a fool, they were banking on
the wrong card. He was an American
citizen with a vote. And if nis time
was worth money to the ladies and to
the gents in convention here assem-
bled, it was certainly worth money to
himself. Was it a merry jest they
were trying to put over on him? Not
them. Ladies and gents, except when
they are drunk, do not pick up ho-
boes, bathe them and shave them,
nurse them back to life with cocktails
and then offer them hundred dollar
bills—not for fun. Drunk ladies and
gents were one thing. Sober ladiee
and gents were another. And in view
of the fact that the ladies and gents
in this here crowd were as sober as
crows, it was plain they had a game
in their sleeve and that coin was be-
ing passed—with him as the pigeon.
Take the hundred? Well, he would
not exactly refuse, but he wasn’t no
drink and hand-out man, and he want-
ed his share or be shown.
While he was speaking they were
looking at their watches, apparently
oblivious to what he was saying; and
when he had finished, they began
the muttering again. The muttering
swelled into loud and angry impreca-
tions, but they were directed not at
Snaggles, for he could hear above the
noise of it' an oath now and then con-
signing “the old fool” fo places of
spiritual unrest. The manhandler was
reaching for him again, but this time
he was stopped by the gentleman of
the restful eye.
“A moment!” he said, in a voice of
command. “Let the hobo retire under
guard!”
It was a pity that Snaggles was
wholly unfamiliar with the climaxes
and catastrophes of the ancient Greek
drama. Had he not been so he would
have been highly entertained by the
story that was subsequently published
in the newspapers, when the matter
became one of court record in which
all details were laid bare. Snaggles
did not read the story, having been
paid a fee of one hundred dollars by
the kindly faced gentleman at an in-
terview the following day—a fee for
the part he had taken in the game—
and was now busily engaged in spend-
ing the money. But here is what hap-
pened when Snaggles, under escort of
the younger guard, was conducted to
a remote apartment on the second
floor of the house.
“Order!” exclaimed the elderly
gentleman. “The time is nearly up
and I must state the case before clos-
ing the business of the night.”
They seated themselves impatient-
ly. They were obviously tired of it
all, as of a game they had played
and had lost. But the speaker went
on.
“In the transactions that are rapid-
ly nearing their end,” he said, “I be-
lieve that none of you can justly ac-
cuse me of unfairness. Perhaps there
are those who regard me as an inter-
loper taking advantage of the law to
distrain from them wealth that is
rightfully if not technically their own.
Perhaps there are those among you
who will say that in seeking to di-
vert this wealth to channels in which
it would not otherwise flow I have
disclosed in my own character the
common human failing that prompts
us to better ourselves at the expense
of our neighbors. Perhaps it is true.
Perhaps it is not. We will pass all
that. My only purpose in mentioning
it is to call your attention to the fact
that I am not unaware of the suspi-
cion of the failing or even of the
failing itself.”
He paused a moment, as if in
thought, and when he resumed, he
did so with a sarcastic smile and a
distinctly dry tone in his voice.
“The experiments we have made
together have cost you fifty thousand
dollars, which is precisely ten per
cent, of the sum that each of the
eight of you would have received from
the partition of the estate of your
late cousin, to whom I have heard
some of you refer in recent conversa-
tions as ‘the old fool.’ To charge a
man with being a fool because he
sees fit to dispose of five million dol-
lars'of his own money in a rather ec-
centric fashion may or may not be
the best of wisdom. I cannot, at the
same time, refrain from remarking
that the event has amply shown that
he was anything but the fool you
think him.
“What are the facts, my friends?
The facts, my friends, are these:
Your late cousin, having been left in
his youth to hustle for himself, was
disdained and neglected by yourselves
—or at least by the older ones among
you, who had been made the favorite
heirs of an uncle to the exclusion of
your recent kinsman. Did your cous-
in complain at his fate, or curse tho
rich man who had deliberately left
him a pauper? Ah, no! He did noth-
ing of the kind, my friends. If I may
drop into the expressi"e slang of the
day, he got busy with himself and
built up an immense fortune in iron.
Beginning as a small dealer in rags
and junk, he ended as one of the large
stockholders in the steel trust. And
later, when the time had come to
leave this wealth behind him, and go
to that reward which awaits all those
who have been cautious and careful
in this vale of tears and place of pro-
bation we call the world, did he cut
off without hope the cousins who had
been unkind to him? No, again, my
friends. True, he did not fling you
the money out of hand—he left it to
the eight of you, share and share
alike, and only on one condition. That
condition seemed simple enough, to
be sure. You were to find within six
months from a certain date a person
who would refuse to accept one hun-
dred dollars when it was offered.
That was all. If you failed in that
peculiar test—eccentric enough it was
—the millions were to be equally di-
vided among tk* several charities
A
DAYS OF HOBO LIFE ARE OVER.
mentioned in the will, and I need not
inform you that I was empowered to
see that the tests would be made
without collusion or connivance of
the parties.”
The heirs were fretting in their
seats, and some of them were yawn-
ing with disgust. But the elderly gen-
tleman only smiled.
“Did you find such a person? Why,
no, you didn’t! Wonderful, wasn't
it? Wonderful as a story of the magi-
cal east, or of the Saracens under
the Caliphs! Surely, you thought to
yourselves, it were an easy task to
find someone who would decline a
gift of a paltry one hundred dollars
when offered! But was it? Ah, no,
my friends. Indeed, it was necessary
to tell you that It would be useless to
offer the money to vast numbers of
persons whose professions would
prompt them to take it without ques-
tion. I warned you that it would be
a wastj of your time and wealth to
make the offer of such a gift to re-
ligious workers of any kind, to per-
sons engaged in the dispensation of
charity, to lawyers, doctors, retail
business men of any line whatsoever,
or to that innumerable mass of per-
sons to whom one hundred dollars is
a fortune. I will give you credit for
having seen the point with very little
reflection. You saw it, but you doubt-
ed. And you subsequently lost a hun-
dred by tendering it to a rich physi-
cian, whom none of you had previous-
ly met, and who pocketed the coin on
the spot on the possibility that it was
a fee he had forgotten.”
The elderly gentleman paused again
and grinned with the grim humor of
the thing. His hearers shifted in
their seats, shuffled thek feet, and
grunted.
“For thirty years,” he continued,
“my profession has been that of or-
ganizer and superintendent of chari-
ties of various kinds. I know the
game of money from’bit to britchin.
I knew what I was doing when I gave
you that warning, and I was the only
one among you that was not surprised
when the richest banker in tow*
laughed at you when he took it, and
informed you that although he didn’t
know why you were giving it, it was
a part of his business never to turn
money away from his door. Has the
banker returned to ask you to en-
lighten him on your u+ ,e joke? Not
yet. And believe me, my friends, you
will never hear from him again.”
The elderly gentleman drew from
his pocket a small account book.
“It is probable,” he went on, “that
I will probate the will tomorrow.
There is very little more to do. In
this book I have a record of the five
hundred offers you have made and
the five hundred acceptances of the
gift. While we are here in the home
your cousin built for himself, and
which, I am sorry to say, will proba-
bly soon be converted into an annex
of the Home for the incapable, I wish
to call your attention to a few of
these peculiar acceptances. The Em-
peror of Germany acknowledges the
receipt of your gift and begs you to
explain to him why you have sent it.
Baron Rothschild informs you that he
will give the money to the poor He-
brews of London. The treasurer of
the United States keeps is without
comment, on the theory, I presume,
that you were paying a debt of con-
science to the nation. The chairman
of the Bank of England writes to ask
you to what account he will credit
the sum. The Chinese ambassador
solicits your kindness to enlighten
him as to the purpose of the remit-
tance. The president of the. United
States tells you he cannot recall on
the moment the transaction you prob-
ably have in mind in sending him
the money, but assumes that you
know your business. A great metro-
politan newspaper owner writes to
3rou that he has entered your name
on his books for a twenty years’ sub-
scription, and is publishing an edi-
torial on the incident. Fut why go
on? Not a man of them but took
the money!”
He looked at the crowd over his
glasses and once again he smiled that
grin of grimness.
“Having failed in these most prom-
ising cases—having failed in every
case we tried,—we met here this
evening to finish the game and say
good-bye. It was a lady—I do not
chide her; it is no part of my duty
to criticize methods—suggested the
last and most practical plan of all.
Dangerous? Yes. Bold? Yes. But
promising. Her plan was to pick up
a tramp—the worst we could find—
and lure him with the promise of lux-
ury and ease. Give him, she argued,
everything that money could buy—•
everything? Well, yes, everything—
and perhaps—but you have seen how
it fared.”
They were muttering and grun^fti^g
again and the speaker held Ij|fe
hand. .
“We have five minutes left,"1 Be
said, “and you must remember that
the game is not lost until the hour.
He had not refused the money wRen
I recalled him from the ditch, but
neither had he accepted it. He has
not accepted it yet. I wish to be fair.
I will recall him.”
As he walked to the door at the
head of the stair the company rose
from their seats in a babble of talk;
But the babble subsided at the sound
of a fierce struggle on the stairway,
and later in the hall, and the reception
room, and Snaggles, his collar waviiig
and his coat all torn, appeared at the
door.
“Leave go o’ me, will yen?” h*
roared to the young men who was try-
ing to restrain him. “Where’s the
And having spotted the man who
had offered him the money, “Boss,”
said Snaggles, “give me the hundred
and I won’t want a cent of your vel-
vetl”
Upcoming Pages
Here’s what’s next.
Search Inside
This issue can be searched. Note: Results may vary based on the legibility of text within the document.
Tools / Downloads
Get a copy of this page or view the extracted text.
Citing and Sharing
Basic information for referencing this web page. We also provide extended guidance on usage rights, references, copying or embedding.
Reference the current page of this Newspaper.
The Lampasas Daily Leader (Lampasas, Tex.), Vol. 31, No. 88, Ed. 1 Saturday, June 16, 1934, newspaper, June 16, 1934; Lampasas, Texas. (https://texashistory.unt.edu/ark:/67531/metapth897167/m1/2/: accessed July 16, 2024), University of North Texas Libraries, The Portal to Texas History, https://texashistory.unt.edu.; crediting Lampasas Public Library.