The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, September 3, 1914 Page: 2 of 8
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The Ambition of Mark Mt
By
HENRY RUSSELL MILLER
"THE MAN HI(;ilFR UP." "HIS RISE
TO POWER." Etc.
\\ \ > >
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(Coprrilht, 1913. by The Bobba-McrriU Company)
SYNOPSIS.
Mark Tnittt d<K-:du to Imvi hla native
town of BwLhftl to 106k hla fortune. Hla
awMtheart. tlnlty Martin. tnCourmtea him
In hla project.
CHAPTER II—Continued.
He went again to the cupboard and
took down a battered tin candlestick.
Be lighted Its candle and itarted
toward the Inward door. Half way, he
atopped abruptly and turned, hla
mouth working strangely.
"If ye ever git rich," he dragged the
worda out alowly, even painfully,
"come back here an' build a steel
plant. There'* a heap of fine coal an'
Iron In these hill*, an' the river an'
rallroad'U give ya good transportation.
Thla valley'* meant fur It. 1 waa Jeat
a little too early—an' a little too Igno-
rant, I reckon. But ye're amarter an'
better schooled than me, an' the time's
oomln'. I'd like to eee a Trultt build
It."
Never before had Simon Trultt
spoken of his dream and failure to his
•on.
"Why, yes." Mark answered, on a
sudden pitying ImpulBe, "I'll think
•bout It"
"Yea. Keep thlnkln' about It It's—
It's a big Idea."
Mark started. The phrase again!
Blmon went to the window and peered
out Into the silvery night—toward the
south. Then he moved heavily toward
the door. He turned again; the flick-
ering light from the candle threw the
lined, patient face Into sharp relief.
"Qood night, Mark."
| "Good night, father."
The door olosed. For many minutes
Mark, left alone, absently Angered the
pocketbook and thought of the man
who had given It to him. Then he
blew out the lamp and rose from the
table.
He. too, paused at the window and
looked out Into the night, toward the
south. He tried to see the sleeping
valley aa hla father had dreamed It.
alight with the fires of many furnaces
palpitant with the rumble of many
engines. He thought he saw It.
The picture faded. He saw only a
▼ague shadowy mass In a moonlit
meadow, the dismantled forge, silent
wltuesa that for those who march
upon the battlefield that la called in
dustry Is no third choice. They must
conquer—or be conquered!
CHAPTER III.
The Masters.
He found himself, a lonely foreign
figure knowing not whither he would
go, somehow In the city's heart.
Chance led him to the principal thor
oughfare. The city had begun to quit
ita toll, and the releaaed toilers were
pouring Into the street, an endless un
ordered horde, heedless of him aa they
were of one another. Never before had
he aeen so many people.
He had a confused sense of being
sucked Into a narrow, gloomy canyon
through which poured a flood of bu
inanity, a treacherous, dangeroua tor-
rant, with many cross-currents. Count-
less facea, wan in the unnatural twl
light, streamed by him; a stranger
type to htm, (ox-featured, restless of
eye.
Full darkness fell. He paused under
a fiery sign. The Beneca. Through a
great plate-glass window he saw a
gaudy red-and-gold Interior broken by
many cotnmos that to the Inexpert
«ys somewhat resembled marble. Uni-
formed pages scurried to and fro. Well
dreased men lounged In easy chairs or
sauntered leisurely about. Many lights
burned brilliantly. He looked within
longingly.
While he debated whether or not to
enter thla expensive-looking hostelry.
• porter swooped upon him and
snatched from his hands the ancient
icarpetbag that held his slender ward
robe.
I "Thla way, suhl"
> He followed the porter to the desk,
p&infolly conscious of the figure he
cut, unoouth. out of place. A clerk
of lofty mien placed an open register
.before him.
"Write your name here."
Mark wrote It
"And your town."
Mark healtatsd—and then, with a
dogged lowering of his head, firmly
wrote the name of that city.
In the dining room that night many
is miles were eaat at the raw country
lyouth. Ha did not regard himself aa
• suhjeot for mirth. As he attacked
•the strange viands the waltar set bo
'fore htm. a little of his self-eonftdence
returned. The vivid sense of a cruel,
overpowering entity faded. Homo-
•tekneas for Bethel, th« refuge. sub-
•Hed ■
Be began to tako In detail* of the
jsovel scene around htm.
Hla ears strained to catch the re-
marks that floated to him from the
neighboring tables It was a strange
tongue ho hoard, lightly dismissing
topics that wonld have buslod the gos
sips of Bethel for a moon. There was
a young man who wors diamonds and
talked In a loud and Impressive
fashion
, . Ellxaboth, I see, broke the
xeoord again." (Ellxabeth. It devel
oped, wan not a race horse, but one of
the Qulnby Steel company's blast fur-
naces.) "Yes, sir! More'n forty thou-
sand tons. Henley says—1 think so
myself—we're going to have the big-
gest steel year yet. —No-o, I don't
Just exactly know him, but I know
people that do.—And Tom Henley's
going to be the biggest steel man In
the business—gets ble fifty thousand
a year already. . . . MacGregor and
Qulnby? Oh, they're the richest. They
let the others make the steel while
they make the money. See? Ha! ha!
. . . Tom Henley's the brains of the
Qulnby crowd. And he'B the d d-
est speculator. . . . Worth his half-
mllllon, they say, and ain't over thirty-
five. . .
And this was the city from another
angle. Tom Henley, evidently, had the
moneter well In hand.
The name had a familiar ring. Mark
drew from bis pocket a letter Richard
Courtney had given him that morning.
Upon it waa Inscribed, "To Thomas
Henley, Esquire."
"He may bo willing to help you
And work," Courtney had said, "If he
remembers me."
Mark regarded the letter thought-
fully. He wondered what was In It
After a moment's hesitation he opened
—It was unsealed—and read it.
"My Dear Henley," the letter ran,
"I am sending you one who is the
work of my hands, lie Is a young
man of parts, 'good friends,' bb we
say up here in Bethel, 'with work.'
Also he 'haa a nose for money.' They
are qualities for which you, perhaps,
can help him find a market ... 1
say be Is my handiwork; but he Is
an unfinished product What. I won-
der, will the new life that succeeds
me as his mentor make of him? Per-
haps 1 should let him strike out for
himself and learn at once the ugly
cruelty of the struggle that now seems
to him so glorious. But we oldsters
have the habit of helping youth to the
sugar plums of which we have learned
the after-taste. . . . And this In-
troduction la the last thing 1 can do
for a young man who means much to
me."
After many minutes' study Mark
came to his decision. He would pre-
sent himself and the letter to Thomas
Henley. He would do It that very
night He rose from his dinner.
"Where," he Inquired of the super-
cilious clerk, "does Thomas Henley
live? 1 must see him tonight"
The directions brought Mark at
length Into the heart of a small com-
munity from which the city still kept
at a humble d'ltance. Not eo the fog,
which was no respecter even of glided
colonies. From a tall Iron fence sloped
i wide sweeping lawn dotted at exact
Intervals with trees and shrubbery.
And In Its center loomed a great
shadowy mass, punctured by many
window* shooting broad luminous bars
into the fog. It was the castle of the
tamer.
He proceeded with a boldness proper
to adventurers In Eldorado, pa9t the
waiting carriages that lined the grav-
eled driveway, to tbe wide veranda.
There he halted. From within came
the strains of music and a gay clamor
of voices. He could not know that
on this night the tamer gave a feast,
i formal dedication of the new castle
to the entertainment of hi* kind. But
he felt the hour to be Ul-sulted to his
purpooe.
Yet it was effected.
Curioaity to look within carried him
to • window. To his wondering gate
unfolded a vista of Irish point and
damask satin, carved mahogany and
marble figures, gilt-framed pictures
and silken rugs.
And amid this lavish display of beau-
ties paraded a bevy of creatures seem-
ing to hla excited fancy to have
stepped out of "Arabian Nights."
"Unity," he said, "will like that"
I While he stood there a troop of men.
garbed In a monotony of black and
white, marched Into the room. At the
same time voices came from another
wing of the veranda. '
And then he, son of the blacksmith
of Bethel, became a spectator at the
birth of a project that for a brief
but brilliant period was to move the
world to hoe annas!
"Henley," aald the first voice, deep,
yet softly flowing aa honey. "I have
come to the time of life when a man
of sense put* away the lusta of tbe
fle h—"
Ti your digeatlon out of order?" In-
terrupted the second, abarper, less
musical and with a sardonic quality
that delighted the listener. "I noticed
you dldnt eat much tonight."
"Ah! It ia more than stomach. It
la soul I" the mallow voice flowed on.
"My labor* and lnveatmenta have been
blessed with good fortune. So I am
now able to turn my energies to the
higher duties, to doing large things for
humanity And lately my thoughts
have dwelt much on—philanthropy and
paleontology."
The speaker, like Brutus, paueed for
a reply.
"Mmml Two 'p" ," It cams. "Quite
alliterative. Go on."
"Henley, you are the flrat to whom I
have spoken of my purpose. It Is
fixed. In what nobler work, what
mors fertile philanthropy, can a man
of wealth engage than In the develop-
ment of the science of paleontology?
Think, Henley—to add to humanity's
knowledgo of the extinct life that
came before our own! It Is a labor
to Are tbe Imagination. And that Is
my purpose. I shall build and endow
In this city the most complete pale-
ontologlcal institute in the world, and
before I lay aside the project, a branch
Institution In each of the largest cities
of tbe nation." The voice trembled
with emotion.
There was a sound as of two hands
sharply meeting. "Good! 1 see! Let
tbe Scotchman look to his laurels!
MacGregor may build bis libraries, but
Qulnby shall have hi* paleontological
Institutes!"
Mark wondered at the patience of
the answer. "Ah! You are pleased to
Jest But the project le new to you.
And," sighingly, "the young think only
of wealth and power."
"My dear Mr. Qulnby," the other
purred, "no man In his senses could
Jest at paleontology. — What the
devil!"
The speakers had turned the corner
of the veranda and come upon the
eavesdropper. Thus for the first time
Mark Trultt looked upon the two men
in whose legions he waa to conquer.
Who has not In fancy's gallery a
portrait of Jeremiah Qulnby, taken
from the prints of the day when his
star swept so brilliant through the
sky? The lofty brow seems to shelter
a very ferment of noble projects. The
grave eyes and mouth speak to us of
a great ooul anguished by the sight of
suffering humanity's needs, which he
le bravely, self-efFaclngly seeking to
relieve.
l'botography has been less kind to
Thomas Henley. No philanthropy has
claimed him as Its apostle. And then
he was a less promising subject for
the art. His body was squat and
heavy; hla face was bony and ugly and
arrogant, often still further marred by
a cold, cynical sneer. A lesser man,
thus presented, would have been repul-
sive. Yet from Henley radiated a tre-
mendous vitality that made him mag-
netic or compelling as he chose—the
dynamic quality that could galvanize a
man or a regiment to the mad efTort
he demanded. After the first glance
Mark looked no more upon Qulnby
he understood why the philanthropist
had so meekly Bwallowed the Inso-
lence.
"This," he thought, "Is a man.
Henley charged upon him, gripping
his *rm|
"What the devil," he repeated, "are
you doing hero?"
"Looking Into the window."
"What are you doing that for?"
"Because," Mark answered simply,
"I never saw anything like It before."
"Probably," the phtlanthroplst-to-be
suggested nervously, backing away,
"be Is some sneak thief. Perhaps
you'd better hold him while I get
help."
"Oh, don't be frightened," Henley
replied protectively. "I won't let him
bite you."
The sardonic note was again upper-
most. Mark, looking down at Henley
—he had the advantage of his captor
by half a head—grinned Involuntarily,
and was himself led Into Impudence.
"No, I won't bite you, Mr. Qulnby."
Qulnby took another step backward,
his nervousness becoming more mani-
fest. "He knows my name! He may
be some crank who—"
"My dear sir!" This time there was
a touch of Impatience In the words.
"Gentlemen of your importance must
I
Ihrough window*. 1 suppose yon mmnt
a nice, fat Job you're not fit to fill?
They all want that."
Suddenly Mark felt anger, hot an-
ger, gt this arrogant young man, not
•o many year* hi* senior, who batted
philanthropists with as faint scrupling
as be rough-handled the seeker of
work. Henley saw him stiffen.
"No, I don't," Mark cried hotly. "I
only want a chance tq work. A chance
to show what I'm good for."
"If that'* all you want—what are
you good for?"
"I'm a blacksmith, but I can do any-
thing."
"Humph! We can use fellows who
can do anything—to swing pick and
shovel. Do you know where we're
building our new plant?"
"I can find out."
"Go to the labor boss and tell him
to give you a Job with the construction
gang. If you're good for anything, you
can work up the way I—no, not the
way I did, but the way you'll have to
If you want to get along where I'm
running things." (
"AH right," Mark said shortly and
turned on his heel.
t's a good gang/
"And It's your business to make 'em
work." He passed on.
"We'll get It now," Mark muttered.
"That Irish bully'll never know how
to get work out of men. I'd like to
tell the boss so."
Johann's face began to work. "Ay
skoll kill Mister Houlahan," came his
slow growl, "mebbe so "
"Mebbe so not." Marcel shrugged
his sboulderB. "One mus' leeve. An'
one mus' work. Eh?"
"Steady, Johann!" counseled Mark.
"Don't let him rattle you."
"You 'ear, Jo'ann?" Marcel added
earnestly. "I 'ave respee' for'w'at my
fr'en, M'sleu Mark Trultt, say."
They "got It," Indeed, that after-
noon. The Irishman, under the etlng
of his boss' reproof, raged and cursed
endlessly In the effort to get more
work out of his men. The gang, Irri-
table and sullen, worked erratically,
with feverish spurts that brought In-
evitable reaction; tbe men became de-
moralized, Interfered with one another.
Mark, some whim of the boss mak-
ing him a special target for the fusll-
"If That * All You Want, What Are
You Good Forf
expect their namea to become house-
hold words. If you'll feel easier, step
Inside while I attend to this Peeping
Tom."
The philanthropist, still lnsenafbi
ti seemed—to tbe thinly veiled inso-
lence, accepted tbe suggestion.
"Now then " Henley demanded sharp
ly, "what ur you want here? You
don't look like a sneak thief."
"I brought a letter to you."
"Who from?"
"Dr. Richard Courtney."
"Who"* he?"
"He's our preacher In Bethel."
"Bethel? Elucidate Bethel."
Mark deflned the village geograph-
ically.
"Humph! Let me sse the letter."
Mark gave the missive to blm. and
Henley, opening It, began tbe perusal.
"How many letters like this do yon
suppose 1 get ovary day?"
"A good many, I expect"
"Doxen*!" Henley snapped "Doe-
ens! Enough, If 1 gave 'em all Job*,
to cover the Qulnby mills three deep
with Incompetent* in a year."
He completed the peruaal of the let-
ter.
"Well," he sneered, "you who peep
CHAPTER IV.
The Service of the Strong.
To the nation bad come a rare pas-
sion for building. It was tearing down
its old barns, to build anew, bigger
and stronger. There were cities to be
raised In the deserts; and they must
be made stanch and lasting. The pio-
neer and his harvest must be carried,
not by crawling conestoga and mule
train, but by tbe power of steam. Men
would go down to the sea no longer In
ships of wood, but In floating palaces
that mocked the storm. Those who
made war were to be sheltered behind
impenetrable ramparts and, again,
equipped with engines and missiles be-
fore which stoutest defenses crumbled.
Tollers on land and sea must find In
their hands new weapons, hard and
keen and sure, to bring nature, her
forces and treasures, into bondage and
iervice.
Therefore, steel!
And, therefore, the army of steel
workers.
A etrong west wind had sprung up
during the night and the sun shoner
clear on the line of that day's recruits.
One by one they passed before a keen-
eyed youth—only the youngtofflcered
this army—who, after one glance, ac-
cepted or rejected. The enlisted
were turned over to the timekeeper,
who gave them numbered cards and
assigned them to various waiting
squads.
A big Swede, a wiry little French-
Canadian and a Blow-moving Pole were
passed.
He nodded curtly to the next appli-
cant. "All right! Get your card."
And thie recruit was he who had
accepted Thomas Henley's challenge.
The latter had already forgotten the
Incident, but Mark was still hot with
the determination to prove his mettle
to the tamer.
He gave his name to the time-clerk
and received his card, also the com-
mand, "Go with Houlahan's gang."
Thus, he reflected, he had taken the
first step in his campaign of conquest
—be was a private In Houlahan's
squad.
"Git a move on!" tbundered a voice
In hie ear. "D'ye think yez arre a
prathy shtuck In th' grround? Marrch!"
it was the voice of Houlahan. Mark
marched.
Corporal Houlahan had no romantic
conception of his duties, and his tyr-
anny was of a sort to give his under-
lings the realistic point of view.
"Here, ye Oly—"
"Ay bane Johann."
"Ye're Molke, 'f Ol Bay ut," bellowed
Houlahan. He enlarged upon Johann's
dishonorable pedigree. "Dig In!"
The Swede, the best worker In the
gang, began to shovel In a nervous
haste that added nothing to his effi-
ciency. Mark saw the red creep Into
the fair *kin. .
"Bhtlr It up, ye Frinch loafer!" the
corporal addressed the next In line
"We're runnln' no barber shop here.
F'r two cints Ol'd bate some worruk
into yes."
It was a tired and sadly fretted gang
the noon whistle relieved. Mark
stretched himself out on the ground,
closing hi* eye* on the dinner palls
his comrades produced; In bis eager-
ness to be enlisted he had not thought
of his midday meal, and he was very
hungry.
He felt a hand on his shoulder and
opened his eye*. The Frenchman and
the Swede sat beside him.
"M'sleu ees 'ongree, eh?" The
Frenchman carefully broke a loaf of
brown bread—all bis meal—In tbe
middle and proffered Mark one-balf.
"Un" t'irsty?" The Swede held out
a bottle filled with cold coffee.
Mark looked covetously at the gifts,
but he shook his head.
"M'sleu 'ate dat dam' 'Oula'an?" tbe
Frenchman Inquired.
"I do," Mark responded with fervor.
"Dat mak' fr'en's out of us, eh? Eat
m'sleu."
Hunger overcame scruple*. Mark ate
the bread and dr*nk the coffee.
"Much obliged. I was hungry. You're
all right—" He psuaed Inquiringly.
"Marcel Masqueller," the French-
man completed the sentence.
"Jobann Johannsen," rolled from the
region of the Swede'* stomach.
Mark Identified himself.
"Dot ver' good name.—Br-r-r!" The
exclamation was for the corporal, who,
with tbe labor boss, approached. The
latter glanced over tbe excavation.
"How many load* have you taken
out?"
"Thirty-nine, *or."
"Only thirty-nine T" the boss rejoined
sharply. "It ought to be fifty."
"The dom'd loafer* won't worruk,"
Houlahan defended hlmaelf angrily.
Tbe bos* cast hi* swift appraising
(lance over the reeling groups.
'Would You Mind Saying That Again?'
lade of profanity, wae hard put to
keep his temper in leash; he was hard
er put to restrain the mutinous Swede,
who Itched with a desire for assassi
nation. Toward the end of tbe day
even the philosophic Marcel grew 111
natured and snarling. Somehow Mark
felt their hospitality of the noon hour
had put upon him a responsibility for
them, though they were his seniors
by at least ten years.
'One must live, you know," be re-
minded Marcel. "And one must work."
"One mus' not be treat' like a dog,
m'sleu." Marcel ripped out a long
French oath. "Jo'ann, you 'ave my
consen' to keel dat 'Oula'an."
Suddenly the Swede dropped his
shovel. "Ay bane by endt Ja!"
Johann was too slow In his mental
processes to be shamed into patience.
"Pick up that shovel and get to
work," Mark commanded sharply.
The Swede blinked stupidly for
moment, then slowly obeyed.
"You our boss, heln?" Marcel
sneered.
"No, Marcel, since noon—your
friend," Mark responded.
Marcel, too, stared and then, with a
gesture of contrition, bent himself dog-
gedly to hla task.
Mark thought he heard a chuckle.
He looked up to meet the eyes of the
tamer. As to the chuckle, he may
have been mistaken; In the keen im-
personal glance wae no sign of recog-
nition. Henley, with the labor boss
departed on his tour of Inspection
Mark gave himself anew to his work
with a sudden Inner expansion. Not
Henley, but the aubmlsslveness of his
malcontent "friends," was the cauee
of that expansion.
Mark learned that there are a right
method and a wrong of doing even
the simple task of plying a shovel;
that there 1* a fashion of handling
even so common an animal as the day
laborer which brings out his highest
efficiency. He found, moreover, that
he had the gift—granted as often to
the false and the foolish as to the true
and the wise—of popularity. Men
liked him; they laughed at his Jokes
on a day's acquaintance they confided
to him their troubles—squalid trage-
dies they were, alas! only too often.
Marcel always called him "m'sleu,"
distinction he accorded not even to
Blair, the labor boss.
One chill, foggy evening, as the
whistle blew, he looked about him and
realized that the excavation for the
new mill was completed.
"Why, we're through!" he muttered
Johann stared Btupidly.
"Mebby dat Meestalr Blair 'e geev
us anudder Job, you t'lnk so, eb?" ven
tured Marcel hopefully.
"No. We're the rottenest gang on
the work. It'* Houlahan'* fault And
I haven't bad my chance. D—
hlml"
"D n!" Tbe Impending calamity
was becoming clear to Johann.
"M'sleu 'as loa' 'ees chance. Dat
ver' bad. Jo'ann an' me, we 'ave loa1
a Job," Marcel alghed.
But the fear was not Justified. At
the tool-shed they were ordered to
report next morning a half hour ear-
lier than usual. And:
"Trultt." aald the time clerk, "the
boa a want* to see you."
Mark made hla way to the rode
ahanty that was tilair'a office.
TrulU," the lattar demanded,
"what'* the matter with Houlahan'*
gang?"
"Too much bullying," Mark
•wered directly.
"I thought *0. Report tomorrow
morning."
"Ye*, ilr^'Of course"
"I'm going to put your gang on the
I give you three weeks for it."
"Give me?"
"Yes. I'm putting you In charge of
the gang."
For an Instant Mark etared foolish-
ly. Then he grinned. "Would you
mind saying that again?"
Blair complied. "Look here," ho
added boyishly, "I'm taking a chance
on you, because you look and talk
Intelligent. Are you?"
Mark admitted It
"Then prove It I want to make a
record on this Job and so you've got
to. Houlahan." Blair added, "didn't—
and he loses bis Job. See?"
Mark saw.
In the mQrnlng Houlahan reported,
happily unaware of a new order of
things.
"Houlahan," Blair announced casu-
ally, "Trultt will take your gang to-
day."
Houlahan glared malevolently at
Mark.
'And wbere'll 01 go?"
'You can take Trultt'* old place—or
quit," said Blair curtly.
"My God!"
There was no resistance. Ae If ^
dazed, the irishman shouldered his
pick and shovel and with the gang fol-
lowed Mark to the new Job.
You have seen a sensitive horse be-
come docile and eager when a master
takes the reins. So it was with Houla-
han's, now Trultt'B, gang. They were,
since they had survived the weeks of
bullying, no mean type; and they re-
sponded gratefully to the changed
leadership. Where they had been sul-
len and resentful, they now became
willing and promptly obedient. As the
day advanced, the pace, Instead of
slackening as under Houlahan's com-
mand, grew faster; the last hour's
record was the best of all.
Often Mark went home to his lodg-
ing by way of the mills. Then he be-
gan to spend his evenings studying
them, sometimes in company with
Blair, who when the day's work was
done sunk his rank in a frank liking
for his new lieutenant
At first Mark saw only a vast spec-
taffular chaos; a Brobdingnaglan fer-
ment of unordered and unrelated en-
ginery and consuming fires. No guid-
ing hand appeared, no purpose was
felt Some awful mischance that muet
bring the whole fabric crashing to
earth seemed always to impend. It
was unbelievable that this creation
had been brought forth from the mind
and by tbe hand of man.
Gradually to hlB accustomed eye
the chaos resolved Itself Into a system
—rather, a marvelous system of sys-
tems that worked with a single pur-
pose, each unit fitting precisely Into
the ordered whole.
"God!" he exclaimed one night, over-
come by the splendor of It all. He and
Blair were standing on the bridge
over the blooming mill, watching the
half-naked troop that with hook and
tongs worked a two-ton Ingot over the
rolls.
What Is It? What's happened?"
Blair looked around for an accident to
explain the ejaculation.
"Nothing. I was Just thinking how
—how big It Is." Mark laughed at the
feebleness of his words. "What would
you give to be down there?"
There Is Buch a thing as luck. A
man—himself an artist who had not
yet become exploiter—who had Just
come unnoticed on the bridge, heard,
and with a half smile, saw tbe eager
face.
Blair shrugged his shoulder*. "Yea,
It's big. But It's hard work. Good
pay, though."
"I suppose eo," Mark answered care-
lessly. "I wasn't thinking of that"
The man spoke. "Qood evening.
Blair."
"Oh! Good evening, Mr. Henley."
Blair struck a respectful attitude. "A
bad night, sir."
Henley looked at Mark. "I don't
Juat place you. Where have I seen
you before?"
Mark flushed at the recollection.
"1 took a letter I had for you and
you caught me—"
"So you're Peeping Tom, eh? Did
you get a Job?"
"Yes, air. With a pick and shovel
gang. I'm bos* now."
Henley seemed not unduly im-
pressed.
"He's the man that dug the new
oven bedB," Blair interposed gener-
ously. "He did It In two weeks and
three days."
"Two weeks and two day*," Mark
corrected eagerly.
"So long?" Henley continued Indif-
ferent.
"I had a spoiled gang. It took
week for me to shape 'em up."
"Humph 1 That'* what we pay
bosses for. We gave you credit for
that Job, Blair."
"I took him out of the gang and put
him on the Job. But he did the work.
He knows bow to get work out of
men."
And that waa high praise—the very
highest, Henley thought He turned
again to Mark.
"Are you aatlafled with your Job?"
"No," cried Mark. "I don't want to
be Juat a Hunky-drlver. I want to
learn how to make steel."
"It's easier to learn how to make
ateel than to be a Hunky-drlver," Hen-
ley said dryly. "However, I think we
can find you another Job."
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
T"
\ 4
<
«
Roundaman Emulate* Naturalist.
There I* a policeman In tbe Middle
•ex Falli who carriea a book, a pair ol
opera glasaea and a bundle of note pa-
per with bim on his round*.
"I've been here a number of years,"
he said to a visitor, "and I got
aahamed when everybody aaked me
about blrda and flowers and I could
not tell them about anything. One
day I aaw Mr. Packard, tbe naturallat
at work, and I've been Imitating him
alnce then."—Boston Traveler.
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Tryon, W. M. The New Era. (Davenport, Okla.), Vol. 6, No. 30, Ed. 1 Thursday, September 3, 1914, newspaper, September 3, 1914; Davenport, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc109959/m1/2/: accessed May 6, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.