University of Wisconsin Superior - Gitche Gumee Yearbook (Superior, WI)

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on the trimmings, ns he called them. Pictures of actresses from the magazines were tacked on to the wall, and curtains put in the windows. “What do you think of my girls there? he asked, nodding at the magazine cuts. “Pretty flossy, all right. The hoes will begin to think there is a married man in camp.” “Married nothing!—not me.” “Were you ever married, Pat? “No. Didn’t I ever tell you?” I told him no, and then waited for one of those stories that had made the evenings of the past few weeks from seven o’clock till early morning pass like a few minutes. Patsy was a man, who, though only thirty years old, had traveled over more of this country than most people do in a lifetime, and had had more experiences than most people want. He had probably, in all that time, not spent fifty dollars in railway fares, and less than that in board bills. He was what he called a “bo”—what you would call a tramp. You would say lie stole his transportation and living—he would sav he just naturally beat it. “Well,” he began, “1 am breaking all rules of a well-mannered gentleman of the road when I tell you this, because it is the truth. 'Pell all the stories about yourself you want, as long as they aren’t true, but keep your mouth shut about your real history, is a well known law among us. This is my true story, though.” He poured himself another cup of coffee, and rolled a cigarette. “My old man owned a restaurant in a fair-sized burg in Illinois. When I got out of the eighth grade, I used to work night shift, and he day. It wasn’t a very swell place, and nights used to be pretty quiet. A good many boes used to drop in to bum a lump and a flop, as they called it (a meal and a bed, in Knglish) ; and I used to treat them pretty good, just so they would tell me stories of the road and how to go at it to travel for weeks at a time on fifty cents capital. 1 got a good deal of information then that has come in handy since, I can tell you. “One night about ten-thirty a girl came in ami ordered a little meal. She was so pale and tired looking that I noticed it at once; but for all that her face had a sort of set look. You know what I mean—kind of a ‘handle at your own risk’ sort of look that made me only glance at her when I knew she wasn’t looking my way. Different fellows have different ways of judging girls, but I guess 1 had one that was pretty near my own. Now, milk toast and tea ain’t no meal for an actress any more than a hot bird and a cold bottle is the order of a tired, quiet little dry goods store clerk; so I judged by this girl’s order of toast and tea that 1 would mind my own business when she came up to the desk. Hut things weren’t to he that way. 1 saw her pick up her check, glance at it, and come towards my seat. She opened her purse, and her face went a little paler than it already was; then it turned red. “|—I haven’t a cent,” she stammered. “1—it must have been stolen at the store, and I had my whole week’s pay in my purse.” Then she burst out crying as if there weren’t no one within a hundred miles, only stopping now and then to say something like, 'Oh, Ix rd, this is one thing too much!' “Now you may think that I should have opened up the till and let her help herself; but that gag had been worked on me four times that week, and I was getting G I r c n E E E FACE THIRTEEN 3C G O

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0 I T C H E 0 U n E E VI AND I (Prize Story) OME in, 'l imey. Fine night, ain’t it ? ’ It was Patsy Moran, the commissary clerk of the camp, who invited me, the timekeeper of the gang, to come into his car out of a very wet and windy night. Don’t get the idea that his car was a Pullman, or anything like that. It was a sleeping-room, dry goods store, oflicc, sitting-room, and grocery store, if you take the arrangement of the interior in order, from the hunk built in one end to the pile of potatoes in the other. From the outside you would call it only a twenty-eight foot box car with a few windows in it. 'Flic foreman and his assistants, with whom I shared another car, spoke only their native tongue in the evenings: and, as that was foreign to me, I sought an acquaintance with Patsy as soon as he struck camp. He was just such a man as you would sec any day. He wore a derby cocked on one side of his head, his black curls crowding out from under it. A scarlet necktie on a lavender shirt, a bright blue serge suit, and patent leather shoes finished out his city make-up. Around camp, though, any old thing was good enough if he could work in a little color somewhere, just a red llanncl shirt or a pair of green socks—anything, he used to say, to show he wasn’t on the bum. 1 stopped a moment on the top round of the ladder for one more breath of fresh, damp air before going in where the cigarette smoke was so dense as to make the lights dim. “What arc you doing, Patsy? aren’t you ever going to get through driving nails? He stood back to get the effect of the sugar sack curtains he had just strung up in the window. Right again! I can’t stand windows without some kind of cover. What was that last commissary clerk like, anyhow? I’ve been taking down hammock hooks and busting tip easy chairs ever since I struck, three weeks ago. Now that 1 got my counter in and the kitchen fixed up, I can fix myself up a bit. No wonder that last guv got fired. He had his magazines and dime novels laying around all over, but 1 couldn't find his daily report sheets nowhere. Moran was nothing if not businesslike. I he first week he spent putting up shelves in the kitchen and a nail or hook for everything hangable. The dining cars got the next week; and now, at the end of the third week, his car had every box, crate, and keg labeled, a counter for his book-keeping, and shelves for the dry goods and tobacco he kept on sale for the men. So now, to-night, lie was engaged in putting PACE TWELVE

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tired of it. So I just kept still until she not over the spasm, and was going to begin a i T c H E G U N E E left her that night, I told her to come around at the same time next evening, and I would see if the police had gotten the four dollars and a half she lost. “Sure enough, next night 1 forked over the cash and faked up a detective story about how they got it, but wouldn’t tell who stole it. I asked her to go to a couple of shows with me, too. She wouldn’t hear of it at first, on account of not having any line dresses; hut I persuaded her that the lights were out in a theatre most of the time, so it wouldn’t matter. Now, there was no doubt about it, I was getting crazy over that girl. Me, who had never been able to think of the same girl twice in my life, and, if I do say it, I had made a little hit with her. too. Pat got up from his chair, rolled another cigarette, and took a cup of coffee. “Let’s see: where was 1? Oh, yes. She always said it was me that turned her luck. Maybe it was; 1 don’t know; but it sure turned. Within a month, her father died in a fit of delirium tremens, and a month later her mother died, too. It nearly busted that girl up in business for fair; but it was best for her the way it turned out. It seems that she had an old uncle who was worth so much that it affected his head—that is, if he hadn’t had a cent, they would have put him in the hat house sure; hut as long as he was worth some million he was eccentric. He had known all along that she was his niece, but wouldn’t see her for dust, oil account of her old man, his brother, being such an old rep. Well, when things left her an orphan, this old duck came to town, and, without letting on who he was, found out that a certain M iss Violet Matson might he found any Saturday night at shop closing time, on the way to, at, or on the way from the Double Kaglc Restaurant. As she comes in, he finds her out from the waiter. Up he walks, and says, in a tone that sounded like a bullfrog with a high soprano voice: “'You arc Miss Violet Matson? I am Mr. Hiram Matson, brother of your father, Jacob Matson, now in hell. I have no children, you have no parents; I want to take care of you. Will you come?’ bawling her out. Hut when she did get over it and looked up at me, I changed my mind so quick that it surprised me. “ ‘Don’t you care, miss,’ I says, 'don’t you mind at all. Y'our check ain’t a very heavy one, and I don’t think it will bust up the business. Just sit down and rest a while. Have a cup of coffee or something to steady you tip a bit. I’ll sec to-morrow if I can’t get that money hack for you. Sit right down here.’ And I pulled a chair up behind the desk. She obeyed like a lost kid, all the time crying like one, too. Little by little I got her talking, and as one thing led to another she told me her story. It was the same old one about her father was a booze fighter and her mother an invalid; and she. not being able to buy enough whisky for dad and medicine for ma, was starving herself. Well, by the time she was quieted and talking sense again, she was pretty willing to let me see her home, and I was pretty willing to take her. I never saw such a face before or since, 'Limey. Such eyes as that girl had, I didn’t think were possible for any one to have. Character, too, it showed in every line of her face—but so sorrowful on the whole. I can’t explain it; she was just different, that’s all. I decided that if that girl could only see a few square meals and one or two good times such as every girl has a right to have, that she would lx the finest looking girl in that town. When I I ACT FOURTHKX