The May Bugle. (May, Okla.), Vol. 17, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 30, 1920 Page: 3 of 8
This newspaper is part of the collection entitled: The Buffalo/May Bugle and was provided to The Gateway to Oklahoma History by the Oklahoma Historical Society.
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THE f.lAY B»TGLE MAY. OKLAHOMA
“TOO OLD l"
John Stuart Webster, mining en-
gineer, boards a train In Death
Valley, California, on bis way back
to civilization after cleaning up
♦100,000. He looks like a hobo. Then
he rescues a distressed lady, who
makes his heart flop over. He
eliminates the offending man. She
is Dolores Ruey. In Denver he Is
offered a I^.OW-a-year job by a
capitalist friend, Edward J. Je-
rome. He receives a delayed letter
from his own particular pal, Billy
Geary, asking him to finance a
gold-mining proposition In Central
America and go fifty-fifty with
him on the profits. So he starts
for Sobrante. Jerome goes with
John to the depot. They meet the
distressed lady on her way to the
same train. John tells Jerome the
whole story. Jerome secretly sees
the girl, offering her |10,000 if she
Induces John to take his Job Inside
of ninety days. The girl accepts.
The Beene now shifts to Buenaven-
tura, Sobrante, where Geary has
existed for two months on credit
extended by Mother Jenks, keeper
of a hotel and dramshop. Dolores
cables Henrietta Wilkins (Mother
Jenks) that she Is on her way to
visit her. Mother Jenks has been
educating Dolores, who Is the
daughter of former President Ruey
of Sobrante, deposed and executed
by President Sarros. Mother Jenks
doesn't want Dolores to find out
she Is no longer respectable. Bo
Billy meets the steamer and tries
to turn the girl back. But Dolores
lands and salutes Mother Jenks as
"Mother." Billy promptly falls In
love with Dolores. Webster In
New Orleans secures a stateroom
on La Estrellita by buying a ticket
for a mythical valet, "Andrew
Bowers.” In New Orleans Webster
saves a young man from assassi-
nation. On the steamer he finds
the mythical valet in his stateroom.
He accepts "Bowers" on trust,
without learning his Identity.
CHAPTER IX—Continued.
While he was considering the mat
>ter, a voice behind him said very soft
ly and Indistinctly, like a man with a
harelip:
"Mr. Geary, will you be good enough
to back your launch a couple of hun-
dred feet? When I’m certain I can’t
be seen from the steamer, I’ll come
aboard.”
Billy turned, and In the dim light of
his binnacle lamp observed a beautiful
pair of white hands grasping the gun-
wale on the starboard quarter. lie
peered over and made out the head
and shoulders of a man.
"All right,” he replied In a low voice.
“Hang where you are, and you’ll be
tlear of the propeller.”
He signaled Don Juan, who backed
swiftly away, while Billy doused the
binnacle lamp.
“That’ll do,” the thick voice raid
presently. “Bear a hand? friend, and
I’ll climb over.”
He came, as naked as Mercury,
sprawled on his belly in the cockpit,
opened his mouth, spat out a compact
little roll of tinfoil, opened It and drew
out a ball of paper which he flattened
out on the floor of the cockpit and
banded to Billy.
“Thank you,” he said, very courteous-
ly and distinctly now. “My creden-
tials, Mr. Geary, If you please.”
Billy relighted the lamp and read:
“Dear Billy:
“I do not know the bearer from
Adam’s off ox; all I know about him
Is that he has all the outward marks
of a gentleman, the courage of a bear-
cat, a sense of humor and a head for
which the presidente of Sobrante will
gladly pay a considerable number of
pesos oro. Don’t give up the head, be-
cause I like it and we do not need the
money—yet. Tuke him ashore with
out anybody knowing it; hide him,
clothe him, feed him—then forget all
about him. “Ever thine,
“J. S. WEBSTER.”
“Kick the boat ahead again, Caffer-
ty,” Billy ordered quietly. He turned
to the late arrival. “Mr. Man, your
credentials nre all In apple-pie order.
Do you hnppen to know that this bay
Is swarming with man-eating sharks?”
The man raised a fine, strong, youth-
ful face and grinned at him. “Hob-
son’s choice, Mr. Geary.” he replied.
“Afloat or ashore, the sharks ore after
me. Sir, I am your debtor.” He
crawled into the cabin and stretched
out on the settee as John Stuart Web-
ster’s voice came floating across the
dark waters.
“Everything well with you, Billy?’’
“All Is lovely. Jack, and the goose
bonks high. By the way, that friend
of yours called with his letter of intro-
duction. I took core of him.”
“Thanks. I suppose you’ll call for
me In. that launch tomorrow morning?”
“Surest thing you know, Jack. Good-
night, old top.”
“Good-night. Billy.”
Don Juun Cafetero swung the
launch and headed buck for the city.
At Leber’s little dock Billy stepped
ashore, while Don Juan backed out Into
the dark bay again In order to avoid
Inquisitive visitors. Billy hastened to
El Buen Amigo and returned presently
with a bundle of clothes; at an agreed
signal Don Juan kicked the launch Into
the dock again and Billy went uboard.
“llat, shirt necktie, duck suit, white
socks and shoes,’’ he whispered. “Climb
Into them, stranger.”
Once more the launch bncked out In
the bay, where Webster’s protege
dressed at Ills leisure, and Billy hand-
ed Don Juan a couple of pesos.
“Remember, John,” he cautioned the
bibulous one ns they tied up for the
night, "nothing unusual happened to-
night.”
"Divil a thing, Mlsther Geary.
Thank you, sor,” the Gaelic wreck re-
plied blithely and disappeared In the
darkness, lenvlng Billy to guide the
stranger to El Buen Amigo, where he
was taken Into the confidence of Moth-
er Jenks and. on Billy’s guarantee of
the board bill, furnished with a room
and left to his own devices.
* ‘ • • • * • •
John Stuart Webster came down the
gangplank into Leber’s launch hard at
the heels of the port doctor.
“You young horse thief,” he cried,
affectionately. “I believe it’s the cus-
tom down this way for men to kiss
each other. We’ll dispense with that,
but by—” He folded Billy In a pater-
nal embrace, then held him at arm’s
length and looked him over.
Lord, son,” he said, “you’re ns thin
as a snake. I’ll have to feed you up.”
As they sped toward the landing, he
looked Billy over once more. “I have
it,” he declared. “You need a change
of climate to get rid of that malaria.
Just show me this little old mining
claim of yours, Bill, and then hike for
God’s country. Three months up there
will put you right again, and by the
time you get bnck, we’ll be about ready
to weigh the first cleanup.”
Billy shook his head. “I’d like to
mighty well, Jack,” he replied, “but I
just can’t.”
“Huh 1 I suppose you don’t think I’m
equal to the tusk of straightening out
this concession of yours and making a
hummer out of It, eh?”
The young fellow looked across at
him sheepishly. “Mine?” he Jeered.
“Who’s talking about a mine. I’m
thinking of a girl 1”
“Oh I”
“Some girl, Johnny.”
“I hope she’s not some parrakeet,
Webster bantered. “Have you looked
up her pedigree?”
“Ah-h-h!” Billy spat over the side In
sheer disgust. “This Is nn American
girl—born here, but white—raised In
the D. S. A. I’ve only known her
three weeks, but—ah I”
Well, I’m glad I find you so happy,
boy. When do you pull off the wed-
ding?”
“Oh,” said Billy, “that’s premature,
Jack. I haven’t asked her. How
could I until I’m able to support her?”
“Look here, son,” Webster replied,
“don’t you go to work and be the kind
of fool I was. You get married and
take a chance. A man ought to marry
young, Bill. Hang the odds. I know
what’s good for you.”
At the hotel Billy sent a note to
Dolores, apprising her that John
Stuart Webster had arrived—and
would she be good enough to receive
them?
Miss Ruey would be that gracious.
She was waiting for them In the veran-
da just off the patio, outwardly calm,
but Inwardly a foment of conflicting
emotions. As they approached she af-
fVcted not to see them and turning,
glanced In the opposite direction; nor
did she move her head until Billy’s
voice, speaking at her elbow, said:
“Well, Dolores, here’s my old Jack-
partner waiting to be Introduced.
Jack, permit me to present Miss Do-
lores Ruey.”
She turned her face and rose gra-
ciously, marking with secret triumph
the light of recognition that leaped to
his eyes, hovered there the hundredth
part of a second and departed, leaving
those keen, quizzical blue orbs apprais-
ing her In the most natural manner Im-
aginable. Webster bowed.
“It is n great happiness to meet you,
Miss Ruey,” he said gravely.
Dolores gave him her hand. “You
have doubtless forgotten, Mr. Webster,
but I think we have met before.”
“Indeed 1” John Stuart Webster mur-
mured Interestedly. “So stupid of me
not to remember. Where did we meet?”
“He has a profound sense of hu-
mor,” she soliloquized. "He’s going to
force me Into the open. Oh, dear, I’m
helpless.” Aloud she said: “On the
Webster.”
Webster shook his head slowly, as If
mystified. “I fear you’re mistaken,
Miss Ituey. I wasn’t on the train In
Death valley last month. I was In
Denver—so you must have met some
other Mr. Webster.”
She flushed furiously. “1 didn’t
think I could be mistaken," she an-
swered a trifle coldly.
“It is my misfortune that you were,”
he replied graciously. “Certainly, hud
we met at that time, I should not have
failed to recognize you now. Some-
how, Miss Ruey, I never huve any
luck.”
She wns completely outgeneraled,
nnd having the good sense to renllze It.
submitted gracefully. “He’s perfectly
horrible.” she told herself, “but at least
he can lie like a gentlemnn—and I al-
ways did like that kind of man.”
So they chatted on the veranda until
luncheon was announced nnd Dolores
left them to go to her room.
“Well?” Billy queried the moment
she was out of earshot. “What do you
think, Johnny?”
“I think,” said John Stuart Webster,
slowly, “that you’re a good picker. Bill.
She’s my Ideal of a fine young woman,
and my advice to you is to marry her.
I’ll grub-stake you. Bill, this stiff col-
lar Is choking me; I wish you’d wait
here while I go to my room and rustle
up a soft one.”
In the privacy of his room John
Stuart Webster sat down on his bed
and held his head in his hands, for he
had Just received n blow In the solar
plexus nnd was still groggy. Present-
ly, however, he pulled himself together
nnd approaching the mirror looked
long at his weather-beaten counte-
nance.
‘Too old,” he murmured, “too old to
be dreaming dreams.”
He changed to a soft collar, and
when he descended to the patio to Join
Billy once more he wns, to all outward
appearances, his usual unperturbed
self, for his was one of those rare na-
tures that can derive a certain comfort
from the misery of self-saeriflce—and
in that five minutes alone in his room
John Stuart Webster had wrestled
with the trngedy of his life nnd won.
He had resolved to give Billy the
right of way on the highway to happl
ness.
• ••••**
In Mr. Webster’s own whimsical
phraseology, his clock had been fixed,
on the Instant he recognized In the ob-
ject of his youthful partner’s adoration
the same winsome woman he had en-
throned In his own secret castle of
love. Vrom that precise second Billy’s
preserve was as safe from encroach-
ment by his friend ns would be a bale
of Confederate currency In an armor-
steel vault on the three-thousand-foot
level of a water-filled mine.
John Stuart Webster had unanimously
resolved upon the course he should have
pursued In the first pluce. He would
Investigate Billy’s mining concession
Immediately; provided It should prove
worth while, he would finance It nnd
put the property on a paying basts;
after which he would see to It that
the very best doctors In the city of
Buenaventura should Inform billy, un-
officially and In the strictest confi-
dence, that If he desired to preserve
the life of Senor Juan Webstuire he
should forthwith pack that rapidly dis-
integrating person off to a more salu-
brious climate.
Having made his decision, John
Stuart Webster Immediately took heart
of hope and decided to leud trumps.
Dolores rejoined them for a siesta
after luncheon.
Webster leaned over and slapped
Billy Geary’s knees affectionately.
“Well, Bill, you saffron-colored old
wreck, how long do you suppose It
will take for you to pick up enough
strength and courage to do some ac-
tive mining? I’m anxious to get that
property on a paying basis, so I can
get out of the country.”
“Why, Johnny,” the amazed Billy
declared, "1 thought you would stay
and help run the mine."
“Indeed 1 Well, why do you sup-
pose I spent so much time teaching
you how to run a mine, you young
Idiot, If not against Just such a time
as this? You found this concession
and tied It up; I’ll finance It and help
you get everything started; but after
that, I’m through, and you can man-
age It on snlnry and nnmc the salary
yourself. You have n greater Inter-
est In this country than I, William;
nnd so with your kind permission
we’ll hike up to that concession to-
morrow and give It the double-O;
then, If I can O. K. the property, we’ll
cable for the machinery I ordered Just
before I left Denver, and get busy.
We ought to have our first clean-up
within ninety days."
“Go.'-b, but you're In a hurry," Billy
murmured. He disliked exceedingly
the thought of liuvlng his courtship
Interrupted on a minute’s notice.
“You know me, son. I’m a hustler
on the Job," Webster reminded him
brutally; “so the sooner you start, the
sooner you can get back and accumu-
late more malaria. What accommoda-
tions have you up there?"
“None, Jack."
“Then you had better get some,
Billy. I think you told me we have
to take horses at San Miguel de
Padua to ride In to the mine.” Billy
nodded. “Then you had better buy a
tent nnd bedding for both of us, ship
the stuff up to San Miguel de Padua,
go up with It and engage horses, a
good cook, and n couple of reliable
mozos. When you have everything
ready telegraph me nnd I'll come up."
"Why can’t you come up with me?”
Billy demnnded.
“I hnve to see a man, and write
some letters nnd send a cablegram
and wait for nn answer. I may have
to loaf around here for two or three
days. By the way, what did you do
for that friend I sent to you with the
letter of Introduction?"
“Exactly what you told me to do,
Johnny.”
Where Is he now?"
'At El Buen Amigo—the same place
where I’m living.”
"All right. When you get bnck to
your hostelry, you might tell iny
friend 1 shall expect him over to dine
with me this evening, If he can man-
age It."
For nn hour they discussed various
subjects; then Billy, declaring the
siesta wns almost over nnd the shops
reopening ns a consequence, an-
nounced his Intention of doing his
shopping, said good-bye to Dolores nnd
Webster, nnd lugubriously departed
on the business in hnnd.
'Why nre you In such a hurry, Mr.
Webster?" Dolores demanded. “You
haven’t bepn In Buenaventura six
hours until you’ve manuged to make
me perfectly miserable."
“I’m terribly sorry. I didn’t mean
to.”
‘Didn’t you know Billy Geary Is my
personal property?”
“No, but I suspected he might be.
Bill’s generous that way. He never
hesitates to give himself to a charm-
ing woman.”
“This was a case of mutual self-
defense. Billy hasn’t any standing so-
cially, you know. When old Mrs. Gen-
eral Mnldonado lectured me (the
dear, aristocratic soul conceived It to
be her duty) on the Impropriety of
appearing on the Mnlocon with Billy
and my guardian, who happens to be
Billy’s landlady. I tried to explain our
American brnnd of democracy, but
failed. So I haven’t been Invited any-
where since, nnd life would have been
very dull without Billy. He has been
a dear—and you have taken him
away."
Webster laughed. “Well, be pa-
tient. Miss Ruey, nnd I’ll give him
back to you with considerable more
money than he will require for your
Joint comfort. Billy In financial dis-
tress Is a Joy forever, but Billy in a
top hat nnd a frock coat on the sunny
side of Easy street will be absolutely
Irresistible.”
“He’s a darling. Ever since my ar-
rival he has dedicated his life to keep-
ing me amused.” She rose. "Despite
vour wickedness, Mr. Webster, I am
going to be good to you. Billy and 1
nlwayi have five o'clock tea here In
the veranda. Would you care to come
to my tea-party?”
“Nothing could give me greater
pleasure.” he assured her.
She nodded brightly to him. “I’m
going to run up to my room and put
some powder on my nose,” she ex-
plained.
“But you’ll return before five
o’clock?" Webster was amazed to hear
himself plead.
“You do not deserve such considera-
tion, but I’ll come back In about
twenty minutes,” she answered -and
left him.
As Webster viewed the situation, his
decision to see as little ns possible of
Dolores during his brief stay In
Sobrante was a wise one. The less be
saw of her (he told himself), the bet-
ter for his pence of mind, for he was
forty years old, and he had never
loved before. For him this fever that
burned In his blood, this delicious
agony that throbbed In his heart and
all on the very ghost of provocation—
were so many danger-signals, heralds
of that grand passion which, coming
to a man of forty, generally lasts him
the remainder of his natural exis-
tence.
Webster was forced to admit he was
afraid of himself. His was the rapidly
disappearing code of the old unfetter-
ed West, that a man shall never be-
tray his friend in thought, word, or
deed. To John Stuart Webster any
crime against friendship was the most
heinous In all the calendar of human
frailty; even to dream of slipping Into
Billy's shoes now would be monstrous;
yet Webster knew he could not afford
a test of strength between his ancient
friendship for Billy nnd the mnscullne
desire for a perfect mnte. Remained
then but one course:
“I must run like n road-runner,”
was the way Webster expressed It
CHAPTER X.
Dolores had been gone an hour bei
fore Webster roused from his bitter
Introspection sufficiently to glance at
his watch. "Uum-m-m I" he grunted
disapprovingly.
“Oh, I’ve been here fully half an
hour,” Dolores’ voice assured him.
lie turned guiltily and found her lean-
ing against the Jamb In a doorway be-
hind him nnd farther down the ver-
anda. She was gazing at him with
that calm. Impersonal yet vitally In-
terested glance that had so captivated
him the first time he saw her. “Are
you quite finished talking to yourself
nnd fighting Imaginary enemies? If
so, you plight talk to me for a change;
I’ll even dlsngree with you on any
subject. If opposition will make you
any happier."
He rose and Indicated the chair.
“Please sit down, Miss Ruey. You nre
altogether disconcerting—too con-
foundedly smart. I fear I’m going to
he ufruhl of you until I know you bet-
ter."
She shrugged adorably nnd took the
proffered chair. “That’s the Latin In
her—that shrug.” Webster thought. "I
wonder what other mixtures go to
make up that perfect whole."
Aloud he said: “So you wanted to
study me in repose? Why waste your
time? I am never In repose."
“Feminine curiosity, Mr. Webster.
Billy has talked so much of you
that I wanted to see If you measured
up to the specifications. Just let me
have your hand, and I'll tell you all
about yourself.”
“Is there any chargeI"
“Yes, a nominal one. However, I
guarantee a truthful reading; If, when
I am through, you are not wholly sat-
isfied, you do not have to pay the
price. Is that a satisfactory arrange-
ment?”
“Right as a fox," he declared, and
held out his great calloused hand. He
thrilled as she took It In both of hers,
so soft and beautiful, nnd flattened It
out, pnlm upward, on her knee. “A
flue, largo, useful hand," she comment-
ed musingly. "The callouses Indicate
recent hard manual toll with n pick
and shovel; despite your recent efforts
with soap and brush and pumice-stone,
there still reinntn evidence of some
foreign matter Ingrained In those cal-
lous spots. This line indicates that
you are very brave, gentle, nnd cour-
teous. You nre quick and Arm In your
decisions, but not always right, be-
cause your actions nre governed by
your heart lnstend of your head.
Once you have made a decision, you
nre reckless of the consequences. Your
lifeline tells me you are close to Ufty-
three years of age—”
“Seeress, you’re shooting high and
to the right,” he Interrupted, for he
did not relish that jab about his age.
“I'll huve you know I wns forty years
old last month, and that I enn still do
a hundred yards In twelve seconds flat
—in my working clothes."
“Well, don’t feel peeved about It,
Mr. Webster. I am not Infallible; the
best you can hope for from jne Is a
hlgli percentage of hits, even if I did
shoot high and to the right that time.
In point of worldly experience you’re
a hundred and six years old but I
lopped off fifty per cent, to be on the
safe side. To continue. You are of
an extremely chivalrous nature—
particularly toward young ladies
traveling without chaperons; you are
kind, affectionate, generous to a fault,
something of a spendthrift. One may
snfely depend upon you to do the un-
expected. Your matrimonial line Is
unbroken, proving you have never
married, although right here the line Is
somewhat dim and frayed. She
looked up at him suddenly. “You
haven’t been In love, have you?” she
queried with childlike Insouciance.
“In love—and disappointed?"
He nodded, for be could not trust
himself to speak.
“How sad I" she cooed sympatheti-
cally. “Did she marry another, or did
she die?”
“She—she—yes, she died.”
“Cauliflower tongue, in all prob-
ability, carried her off, poor thing 1
However, to your fortune: You are
naturally truthful and would not make
a deliberate misstatement of fact un-
less you had a very potent renRon for
it. You have a strong sense of
sportsmanship, and when fairly de-
feated, whether In a battle of fists
or a battle of wits, you never hold a
grudge, which Is one of the very nic-
est characteristics a man can have—”
“Or a woman," he suggested feebly.
Enter Don Juan Cafetero, boa
vivant and man about town.
(TO BE CONTINUED.)
Testa of ■ Good Thermometer.
In order to ascertain whether a
thermometer Is correct or not. It Is
first plunged Into melting Ice and then
Into boiling water; the leve' of the
mercury should Indleute upon the
scale exactly 32 degrees and 212 de-
grees Fahrenheit. When Inverted the
mercury should fall with a sudden
click and till the tube, thus showing
the perfect exclusion of air.
When doctors disagree the patient
bas a fighting chance for his life.
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Latta, Charles W. The May Bugle. (May, Okla.), Vol. 17, No. 14, Ed. 1 Thursday, December 30, 1920, newspaper, December 30, 1920; May, Oklahoma. (https://gateway.okhistory.org/ark:/67531/metadc941009/m1/3/: accessed April 19, 2024), The Gateway to Oklahoma History, https://gateway.okhistory.org; crediting Oklahoma Historical Society.