The Canadian Valley News. (Jones City, Okla.), Vol. 14, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, January 15, 1915 Page: 2 of 8
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Pedro and the dancing bear, Mr. Jones,
prevent a tramp from stealing a young
lady's puree. Pedro's ambition to become
a painter spurs him to quit Old Nlta and
the strolling bear dancers. Pedro, Oid
Nlta and the bear trainers start for New
York. Pedro paints a portrait for a lunch-
wagon man and so earns a meal for the
A Loss and a Find.
“I am Bure that there must be color
In our souls," said Iris Vanderpool.
"At thie moment," replied Mr. Sam-
vel Hill, "my soul Is the exact hue
of tea with lemon In It, shading off
to the color of a jam sandwich."
With a petulant little gesture, Iris
turned from the window out of which
she had been gating at the slowly
"You always spoil my best Ideas I"
she said. "Why can’t you reply sym-
pathetically? But you shall have tea,
As she crossed over to seat herself
beside him, he noted the shade that
clouded her eyes. She settled her-
self In her corner of the sofa and he
leaned over, taking both her bands
"You mustn't be cross," he said, ten-
"I think you owe It to me to be a
little more—more romantic! No!
That Is a poor word to express my
meaning. A little more poetic! Why,
you don't even look like an artist any
“Don’t I?" said he. elowly rising and
regarding himself In a mirror opposite.
"Iris," said he after a moment of si-
lent Inspection, "must a fellow really
have long hair In order to be a good
painter, do you think?"
"Don’t be absurd!" she answered;
Mt Isn't that, of course! But It is
something deeper, something more Im-
portant, far. Why, If I did not see
the lovely things you do with your
brush, I could not believe you were
an artist. You never give out your
temperament In any other way, and I
am hungry for It."
'For what?” he asked. "A lot of
all'y talk about the color of your soul?
Lord! girlie, can't you learn to live
these things instead of talking about
them? Can’t you see that they lose
In value If expressed In any but the
highest way? One has to keep one's
mouth shut In order that all the
strength be left for one’s hand.”
“And apply none of It to dally life?"
“Live It; don't apply It.” he an-
“One grqwB by expression!” she de-
clared; “by expression of every sort.
My father's friends, lotB of the people
who come here, are living splendidly
Inside themselves, and they give It
out, and consequently they are Inter-
esting. When 1 became engaged to
you I thought I was going to And the
same sort of Intercourse, only Intensi-
fied. But you are not what I thought
you were, and my soul Is unsatisfied.”
"Look here, dearest," said he lightly,
"don't go for me the first day you
get home. It’s a long while—two en-
tire weeks—since we have been to-
gether, and here we go, off the handle,
first thing. Let's cut it out, and be
sweet to each other Instead. Tell me
about the last couple of weeks. You're
not a very satisfactory correspondent,
you know. What did you do at the
"1 walked, and rode horseback, as
usual," she replied. “There was time
for once tor me to learn to know my-
self; to commune with my Inner con-
sciousness. I read Swinburne. Do
you know, I think hia aura must have
been blue, like mine?”
Sam Hill helped himself to a fifth
jam sandwich before replying.
"That must have been great; espe-
cially the riding," be exclaimed. “And
that reminds me, Iris, there Is a won-
derful horse at the Winter garden.
I’l! take seats for tomorrow. If you
say so. You’ll like it, I’m sure. There
are some bully acrobats, too.”
With the air of a tragedy queen
Miss Vanderpool arose and ewept to
the center of the room, her gray gown
colling about her feet like clouds of
smoke. Very young she looked, and
quite like a child dressed up and act-
ing a play. But, to her own mind, she
was a woman hurt in her sensitive
•oul. Withal, she had a certain dlg-
ottv despite her youth, consequent,
perhaps, on the position which had
been bers since the death of tha
mother she could scarcely remember.
"Why, what on earth Is the matter?"
cried Hill, admiring her immensely,
■Matter?" she cried tragically; "you
ask me that? I tell you that my soul
•Is hungry—starved! and you retort
with an Invitation to a music-hall!
It Is unthinkable! How can you? You
have no sympathy, no understanding.
I bate you. There!"
8he turned from him abruptly.
"Itia!" he cried, springing to her
Hide and putting his arm about her.
“You must not say such things, you
silly child. When 1 leave my work 1
want to play—Just to play like a child
—and a trained horse amuses as;
frankly and truly, 1 do Uke 1L You
hardly ever laugh for thaer merrt
ment. It's most neurotic. I'm darned
If It Isn't!”
'Tb not a silly child," cried Iris
hotly, disengaging herself from his
embrace. “I’m not neurotic I My
soul la tom."
“Ob, marry me right away, and let
your soul go hang!” exclaimed Hill.
"All you need Is a taste of life I Hon
estly I understand about this feeling
of yours, dear. Believe me. work and
living In earnest are the answers and
"Ycu don’t understand I” she cried;
“everv word you utter makes that
The Impossible Boy
By NINA WILCOX PUTNAM
tCaeniskt hr »ebb«-U»rrtU CO
plainer. You never have any great
emotional experiences—at least, that
I can see—and so, of course, you can't
recognize them as real In others. You
may be an artist on canvas, but you
are not an artist of life, and that Is
far more Important! I suppose you
will go on leading your ordered exist-
ence forever. I shall stifle If I have
to share It! And I thought you were
a romantic figure. Why, you work as
regularly ae any business man, and
"A curious complaint," Bald he, the
half-smile dying upon his Ups. "You
know little, dear, of life, or you would
not talk like this. Control Is the pass-
word to success. It Is a bitter fact,
perhaps, but one we all have to learn.”
"That Is a theory which I do not
intend to live by," she said rather
"How am I to take that?" said the
"As you see fit,” she replied. "I
mean to live by expression. I used
to think that you did so. You have
"For your sake!” he expostulated,
suddenly angry. "If I have whipped
myself Into some semblance of a hu-
man being. It has been—I was going
to say, for you; but It la more than
that. It has been for the work's own
sake. And now you are ready to repu-
diate me because of that very accom-
plishment You are unfair, unreason-
"Oh, don’t be so logical, or I shall
go mad!" she cried. "1 ha,te your rea-
"Very well, then,” said he, trying to
smile, “I’ll be unreasonable.”
"And don't be tacetloue! Oh, go
away, I can’t endure you!"
“Look here, Iris,” he said hoarsely,
"I’m not joking. God forbid! This
Is getting too serious. Am I really to
"Or let your spirit out of Its cage,"
For the third time Hill committed
his greatest mistake.
"You are a foolish child!” he said
angrily. “Very well, then, I’ll go. But
I warn you. If you send me off, I’ll not
For a moment he waited, hoping
that she would epeak, but she said
nothing, merely standing there and
trembling a little, though white and
and silent Suddenly Hill turned on
"Confound all women!" he mut-
tered, and without a single backward
glance flung himself out of the room
In a fury.
For a moment or two longer she
stood motionless, and then throwing
her arms out wildly, she cried his
"Oh, Sami” she called, "come back
—pleaae come back!"
Running out Into the upper hall, she
arrived at the stair-head Just In time
to hear the front door close after him,
and was Instantly obliged to flee the
mildly Inquiring gaze of a footman,
who came In to remove the tea tray.
When he waa gone, however, she cast
herself face downward among the gray
cushions of the sofa and cried bitterly,
a cold horror clutching at her heart
as she slowly came to see the reality
of what she had done.
For HU1 had spoken the truth when
he Implied that she was merely a child
bored with luxurious surroundings and
striving after she knew not what. Her
father adored her, and gave her ab-
solute liberty. The people whom she
knew by Inheritance meant little to
her; she found them Introspective,
self-absorbed, and amateurs at the arts
they affected, many of them simply
hangers-on of her beauty-loving father,
who with the years had become less
the man of affairs and more the man
of letters and patron of the arts. As
she grew up her discontent Increased,
until finally, within the laat two years,
she had stumbled upon a group of
people with whom brains meant aris-
tocracy. Here she had met Hill, and
after about a year he had persuaded
her to become engaged to him. She
had consented on condition that It
remain a secret for the time being.
There had been no reason for conceal-
ment but the gtrl'a Innate love of ro-
mance and mystification. And so no
one had been told of the engagement,
although It was a well-known and
widely discussed subject among their
And it was all overt Well, possibly
It was for the best.
She hurled her face deeper In the
esthetic gray cushions. Her soul must
have expression! It must!
Desperately unhappy, but not with-
out a certain enjoyment of her own
misery, she arose with the determina-
tion to find her father, and extract
what comfort she could from him,
without telling him her trouble. Per-
haps he was In his library now. She
would go and see. Slowly she de-
scended the wide stairs. At the street
entrance stood her father, evidently
on the point of leaving the house.
Vanderpool was a handsome man,
and had retained an Intangible atmos-
phere of youth, despite the responsi-
bilities of bis wealth, and despite the
obvious fact that he bad Uvad In-
tensely In the emotional aide of his
"Hello, little I rial” he said. "You
seem a bit pale, my dear! Were you
looking for me?”
"Yes, father!" replied Iris. 'Hut I—
you are going out I see, so—"
"I’ve an appointment that Is rather
pressing," said he, a little anxious
pucker gathering between his eyes,
"but If your business can't waiL mine
will have to."
"Oh! mine Is nothing, nothing!” said
Iris, with what seemed to her divine
submission to fate.
"Then we’ll have a fine talk at
breakfast,” returned her father. "I’m
dining ouL Good-night, my dear!"
The door closed behind him, and Iris
turned Into the library.
The room spoke strongly of her fa-
ther. It was large and fine and ro-
mantic, like him; It was dignified, too.
containing several almost priceless
treasures. But perhaps the most
unique feature of the apartment was
the great, low deBk. It was a Flemish
piece, unusual In shape and construc-
tion, and covered with a multitude of
Intricate ornaments, carved deep Into
lta heavy surface.
Vanderpool had never been a very
light-hearted person, but he had a
subtle charm which was more fasci-
nating than any gaiety could be, and
his rare smile was a thing to be
remembered. Of her mother Iris had
no recollection, but from her earliest
chlldho6d she had seen her father as
an Individual, instead of merely as
"father,” a being from whom came
the luxuries of material existence; and
she had always adored him. There
waa a cloud over his existence, she
knew, and she assumed It to be the
loss of her mother. But this explana-
tion was not sufficient to account for
the depression which had come upon
him lately. What could the trouble
be? Had It to do with those letters
which came by registered mall, with
foreign stamps, some of which the
tramp by the wayside at Stamford had
so nearly stolen from her? Stamford!
If only she had stayed In the free, In-
nocent air of the country, among the
crimBon maples, where troubles slipped
from one so easily. Her thoughts flew
to her erstwhile lover, and bitter re-
gret welled up afresh In her heart.
"Oh, Sam!” she walled aloud, and
cast herself across the deskboard,
grasping the carvings opposite with
agonized white fingers.
Then suddenly an utterly unexpect-
ed, astonishing thing happened. The
carved ornament beneath her right
hand flew outward with a spring. Iris
raised her tear-stained face In amaze-
ment, and there before her lay open
a secret compartment, responsive to
her unwitting touch. It was a shal-
low drawer, about six by ten Inches
In diameter, and was filled with pa-
pers, written out In Spanish (to her
an unintelligible language), the script
being that fine, close one of which she
had Just been thinking. There were a
number of these, but, stranger still, on
top of them lay a miniature In a frame
of brilliants. At this she stared long,
with fascinated, Incredulous eyes, for
the face was that of the youth who
had sung before the cobbler’s shop;
the youth who, with his bear, had
saved her from the tramp; the youth
who, later, she had watched paint
the wagon in the grimy suburban
That Which Is No Robbery.
Meanwhile Sam Hill had flung him-
self Into the street, and Into a state
of mind which waa the reverse of en-
viable. Reason was suddenly lmpos-
elble. The arguments which he had
advanced to Iris but a moment since
now failed him, end his one master-
ing, overwhelming thought was that
he had lost her.
It had all happened so suddenly that
the shock left him gasping. Probably
she had never really cared from the
first, he thought, for had she ever
been In love with him she could not
have dismissed him on so flimsy a
While this passed through his brain,
he had been walking rapidly, and after
a few moments, coming upon Wash-
ington square, he flung himself upon
one of the benches near the center,
stretching his legs out straight In
front of him, folding his arms, and,
frowning under the tilted brim of hie
hat, -e eat moodily staring Into space.
Darkness had not quite fallen yet,
and all about him poured the home-
ward-bound crowds from the neighbor-
ing shops, factories and offices—an un-
ceasing stream, varied as the nations
of the earth.
Quieter and yet more quiet grew
the square. At this hour the virtuous
were eating In their homes, while the
wicked fed in luxury over there to the
northwest, where already the white
flare of middle Broadway was flung
against the darkened sky. Over all
hung the Indefinable yet definite
spirit of the city! Intricate, throbbing,
fraught with the Joys and horrors of
And Sam Hill still sat glowering out
upon the scene.
'Oh. the wonder of It!" said a low
voice at his elbow.
With an effort Hill aroused himself,
the aching trouble In his heart pulsing
painfully at the return to conscious-
ness of hla own personality. Had some
cne spoken to him? It was only hts
fancy, perhaps! Suddenly something
cool and damp and unmistakably alive
thrust Itself Into the relaxed palm of
his band, causing him to start up.
Then the cool thing Bhot forward, leav-
ing his hand upon a rough coat of
fur. An animal! What could It be?
"Great Scott!” he exclaimed, all
alert. In the darkness beelde him
crouched a shapeless mass, which
’It’s only Mr. Jones,” said the voice
that had spoken before. “He’s just
woke up. It’s only my bear!”
Then Sam Hill realized that the
creature at which he waa staring In
the dimness was a small bear, to
which was attached a chain that
clanked upon the asphalt walk.
Mr. Jones, Is it?” snapped Hill.
"And who the devil are you?”
“I am Pedro." replied the animal’s
custodian. And even in the gloom
Hill could see the white gleam of a
smile. The slender figure straightened
up on the bench beside him.
“What Pedro? Pedro who?* de-
manded Hill, Interested In spite of
"Only Just Pedro,” came the answer.
Then followed a laugh—a wonderful,
rippling laugh, ending abruptly, as
though a door had been closed upon
"Well, Pedro, whoever you are," re-
plied Hill, "you seem to be in as 111
straits as myself, else you would not
be sitting In the square at such an
"Are you hungry, too?" Pedro In-
Hill laughed, a short laugh, not so
pleasant to hear ae the other’s.
"In a way," said he.
"Ah!" said Pedro pityingly, and by
the tone Hill knew that the youth had
guessed at a hidden meaning In his
"Why do you come to the city?"
asked the latter, after a pause. "Your
brotherhood usually keep to the open
”1 come because I am an artist, and
here I shall have more opportunity
to paint," replied Pedro.
"You speak as though you were a
genius," said Hill bltlngly.
"Perhaps I am,” Pedro returned.
There wae a silence, during which
Mr. Jones fumbled the hand of bis new
acquaintance affectionately. Then
"What Is your trouble?”
Somehow Hill was not In the least
offended by the question. For a mo-
ment he considered It, then;
"I must go away and hide myself,"
"And you don’t want to go away?"
"Yes—or rather, I want to go, al-
though It Is a duty I take a bitter
pleasure In discharging. But I must
go, because I must hide."
"Oh!” eald Pedro. "Why go off to
hide? A good way to get out of sight
Is to remain where you are, and tell
no one about It. People so promptly
forget about you.”
Hill peered at the youthful face to
see If the bear trainer was joking; but
no trace of mirth could he discover.
"PerhapsI" Bald he. Then to change
the subject, "When did you arrive In
"And what, exactly, do you expect
"To find a master, and to study; to
find a studio, and to paint," was the
“And meanwhile go hungry! Are
you saving all your money for the ends
"I have no money," explained Pedro
“Then how do you plan to get your
"I do not know yet," Pedro told
him. “But there muet be a great many
In so large a city.’’
“So you are not daunted by the
somewhat uncertain future before
you,” remarked Hill, "even though
you are unfed?"
"I have been that before,” retorted
"Well,” said Hill, “the most Imme-
diate of our troubles can be mended.
I, too, am hungry. Will you dine with
"We shall be glad to," said Pedro.
Hill had forgotten the bear, but
when Pedro said ’’we” he realized that
there were three hungry beings.
"All right," he said, making a rapid
mental Inventory of the restauranBe he
knew. Hitting at last on the right
one, he got to his feet with a jerk.
"Come along, we’ll go over to Ga-
They ate the entire menu with very
little conversation. Then they pushed
back their chairs a little, and talked.
Hill tossed a package of cigarettes
upon the table, lighting one himself.
Pedro followed suit. Inhaling the fume*
with a long stgb of contentment.
"You are fond of that bear?" asked
"I am," replied Pedro. "He Is my
good friend; he la the thing I love
most of all.”
"Tell me of your wanderings with
him,” he asked.
And l’edro told him. The elder man
sat very still as he listened, hts chair
tilted back against the brick wall, hla
eyee narrowed to mere slits of light
as he watched the young raconteur
through the blue haze of smoke. What
tales these were to which he listened;
how they stirred the wanderlust In
Then. too. the fascination of the an-
cient and honorable profession of bear-
dancing had taken hold on Hill. But
though he listened ,well, every little
while came the thought of his lost
love, and with It a wave of depression
swept over him. With a desperate ef-
fort to pull away from It he asked
“Where are your companions?”
“Very near the public garden from
which we have Just come,” responded
Pedro. “Down the little cobbly street
to where the alr-rallway turns; then
In a little door, through a court, to
an old house with wooden balconies.
They await me there.”
“How fitting!" murmured Hill. “How
I should like to see them! Would
they receive me well?”
"Without a doubt," said Pedro;
"they recognize a friend at once, even
as a dog or a bear does!”
’Tve a mind to go back with you,"
said Hill Jokingly. “They must be
corkers. That Old Nlta, now—what
does she look like?”
"She—why she looks—she looks like
Time himself,” responded the boy.
"See, I will show you."
Saying which, he brought out a
stump of a pencil and a small pad
from some recess of his old coat of
"This Is Nlta," said he, turning over
several pages, and handing the open
book to Hill. "Old Nlta, and that next
is Beau-Jean, scolding Koko."
Hill took the proffered papers idly,
and suddenly sat very erect, examin-
ing them Intently.
"Who drew these?” he Inquired
after a moment.
"Why, me, of course," said Pedro.
For another little space Hill wae
silent, turning over the sheets In his
hand. There were perhaps twenty
sketches in the pad. From his scru-
tiny of them, he raised his eyes to
Pedro. Could the boy be telling the
truth? Had he actually drawn these
things? They were remarkable. Surely
such a one as had done them would
be famous, for work like this waa not
to be hid easily. Indeed, It was amaz-
ingly good. I( waa the work of a born
draftsman. But Pedro’a face showed
no signs of uneasiness. On the con-
trary, hie eyes were alight aa he ex-
plained who the people were.
"Do you like my drawings?" asked
Pedro, suddenly self-conscious, a deep
flUBh spreading over hie face and neck.
"Like them!” was all Hill replied,
but at the tone of his voice Pedro's
"I love to draw people, and lots of
people together, and places. And I
love to draw Mr. Jones."
"Who taught you?’ asked Hill.
"Long ago, when I was small, some
one taught me every day,” said Pedro.
“Then I have painted a little here and
a little there. But I have yet so much,
eo much to learn! That Is why I
came here to find a studio, that I
might really learn.”
Privately, Hill was convinced that
what Pedro needed was the opportu-
nity. That was all. It was remark-
able, but true. Suddenly he leaned
across the little table.
"I suppose you love that bear tre-
mendously?" he asked.
"Yes," said Pedro, Instantly aware
of an Impending development.
"More than your art?”
Pedro laughed. Then he sobered.
"No,” he said, "of course not. I sup-
pose I would even give him up If need
be—and yet he Is like my own
The boy’s eyee were bright with ex-
citement, and the warm color had
crept Into his face as he spoke.
Across the mouth of the man oppo-
site to him was the stamp of a new-
"Then give him up!” cried Hill. "I
am a painter. Give him to me In ex
change for my studio and all that Is
Next morning Pedro awoke with a
sense of strangeness upon him, and
Instinctively stretched out his hand
to touch Mr. Jones, who always slept
beelde him. But the bear waa missing
Instead of a rough, warm coat that
heaved sleepily beneath his hand, he
touched a coverlet soft as silk. At
this, his sense of uneasiness Increased
and with an effort he opened hts eyes
and sat up. Ah, yes! He remembered
now. Mr. Jones wae gone. Gone with
the sanction of his master, gone per
haps sever to return! One by ona
the events of the preceding evening
esme hack to his mind. His hesitancy,
Hill's arguing with him, the details
of their compact, and his final agree-
ment to tha extraordinary proposal.
Ah, yes! and Hill’s writing of the two
letters, ons of which gave him, Pedro,
possession of the apartment In which
he now found himself. The other to a
friend of Hill’s to be delivered on the
morrow—that was today—today.
Slowly he let hie gaze travel about
the comfortable little bedroom In
which he lay. Ita furnishings were
simple In the extreme, yet adequate.
Opposite him stood a chest of draw-
ers, mahogany, and old. There were
brushes on It and a few simple ebony
toilet necessities. At the foot of the
bed was a door, half olosed. The
studio waa In there! At the thought
he sprang up and flung the door wide
to discover if his memory of the night
waa a vision or a reality.
As he stood upon the threshold he
seemed for an Instant to see, not the
room before him, but the upright, fash-
ionably clad figure of Hill, leading a
bear off Into the dark regions beyond
Washington Bquare. Than, throwing
back his head, he laughed, and stepped
Into the studio.
Once It had been the attic covering
the upper floors of two adjoining
houses. In every sense the place wai
a workshop, replete with the most per-
fect tools for the trade of the brush,
and the only spot conducive to Idling
was the chimney corner. Upon the
smaller easel stood the half-finished
portrait of a man, while against one
wall a pile of canvases was standing,
their faces hidden.
Pedro drew a long breath of delighL
Then It was true; It had not been u
dream, after all! He thought of Mr.
Jones again, and for a moment the
pang of that dear remembrance wae
bitter. How waa Hill getting on with
Old Nlta? he wondered. If only It
were possible to be with them, and
here at the same time! Ah, well! one
could not serve two masters, and he
had chosen and did not regret-
On the mantel shelf stood a letter
that Pedro had placed there on the
previous evening. Hill had given It
to him with the Injunction to deliver
It at the earliest possible moment. He
read the superscription with Interest:
Abraham Lincoln Leigh
An address on Tenth street followed.
Pedro determined to deliver It at once.
• * • • • • •
The house In which Abraham Lin-
coln Leigh lived, was, like almost ev-
ery other building In this neighbor-
hood, now being put to a use other
than that for which It waa originally
Intended, for once It had been a ware-
house for the storage of paper.
"Yep!” said the hallboy, in response
to Pedro’s Inquiry as to whether Mr.
Leigh was in. "Third to your righL
So Pedro mounted and knocked.
’’Come!’ said a resonant voice,
which was like the booming of a great
bell. And Pedro, rejoicing at the mu-
sic of It, promptly obeyed.
It was a large studio which be en-
tered, large and crowded and disor-
dered beyond belief. Several corners
had been screened off for usee other
than those of sculpture, which waa the
self-evident occupation of the proprie-
At the moment of Pedro's entrance
Abraham Lincoln Leigh was stooping
over a frylngpan full of bacon, which
was sizzling on the stove; and the In-
stantaneous Impression which hls vis-
itor received was that the man's name
had In some curious fashion Influ-
enced hla personal appearance. He
was very tall,, and hls leanness was
extraordinary. As Pedro entered, he
did not even turn hls head for a mo-
ment, but continued manipulating the
bacon deliberately. When It waa re-
versed, he looked up at hls visitor, and
again the mellow voice rang out Uke
the slow chimes of a church belL
"Who are you?"
“I am Pedro,” said the owner of that
name, flashing hie white smile. “I
have a letter from Sam HllL"
"Ah!” remarked Leigh, not, how-
ever, offering to take the missive, but
looking at the bearer, and, as was so
commonly the case, liking him. Then,
In response to that smile of Pedro’s,
Leigh smiled, a rare thing In him, and
"Have you had your breakfast ?*’ he
"Why, no! I haven't!” exclaimed the
boy, evidently surprised at the recol-
lection of hls lack.
Leigh looked him over again, hls
face grave despite the gathering up
of the little lines at the corners of
"You’re a friend of Sam’s?" he
"I am hls most devoted one!” ex-
claimed Pedro fervently.
Again Leigh emlled.
"No, you are not," he said. "How-
ever, the forks and spoons are In that
bureau, and you’ll find a cup on the
shelf behind that screen."
Pedro stared at him for a breath,
and then, with a laugh, he threw hls
hat and hls letter down upon a chair,
and went In search of the articles men-
“Gracias!” he said, "I am very hun-
gry. Maybe you know what that feels
"You bet!" said Leigh solemnly.
(TO BH CONTINUED.)
"We are presenting to your notice,'
said the silver-tongued orator, "a man
who Is free from corrupt alliances and
Intrigues; a man who lias led a life of
dignified seclusion; a man who__’’
“That’s all right," Interrupted the lm-
patient listener. “We all know your
man doesn’t know anything about
polities, or he wouldn’t be la your
Here’s what’s next.
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Keyes, Chester A. The Canadian Valley News. (Jones City, Okla.), Vol. 14, No. 37, Ed. 1 Friday, January 15, 1915, newspaper, January 15, 1915; Jones, Oklahoma. (gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc860306/m1/2/: accessed October 21, 2018), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.