Barringer's bank account, Gilbert wrote to Fort Worth and ordered a
duplicate set of these fireworks sent on to Cinche. And in the darkness
of night, when Blowout was wrapped in slumber, Gilbert and Romero rode
silently out, down the flank of the divide, across the plain and into a
little cañon six or seven miles distant in the breaks of Wild Horse
Creek.
All day, in the intervals of his business duties, Gilbert had been
receiving theoretical instructions; now with the set of fireworks which
was to have dazzled and delighted the residents of Antelope, he made
practical experiment of the knowledge so gained. The little show,
witnessed only by the naked walls of the cañon and such prairie-dogs and
jack-rabbits as had been untimely aroused from their slumbers, went off
fairly well--which is to say that most of Gilbert's fingers and nearly
all of his features went back to Blowout sound and entire.
"Oh, I got the hang of the business," he declared again and again, as
they rode along through the soft Texas night; "I got the hang of it. I
can make the whole first part go all right. The thing now is to get that
Columbia act fixed so as to give the boys a run for their money, and
leave a chance for Minnie and Kid."
The two rode home, and later José went to bed in Gilbert's back room,
where work was going forward upon a mysterious-looking structure.
II
"In our village hall a Justice stands:
A neater form was never made of board."
Frosty La Rue's grand aggregation of talent had given two shows in a
tent on the third of July.
On the Fourth there would again be two tent-shows, one in the afternoon
and one at night; and at the close of the night performance, when the
"concert" of an ordinary circus takes place, there was to be "a grand
open-air spectacle," as Frosty himself put it.
For this purpose a platform had been erected, upon which Frosty and the
Signorina could do a knife-throwing turn; and where the Aerial Wonder
could give an infantile exhibition with a small bicycle.
A wire had been stretched across Comanche Street from the top of the
Roundup to the top of the Wagon-Tire House, and upon this was to be
given the most ambitious performance of the evening, "Columbia
Enlightening the World."
All day long on the Fourth, the town was full of rejoicing young Texas
masculinity, mounted upon Texas ponies, careering about the streets in
conspicuously full enjoyment of life, liberty, and the pursuit of
happiness. And all day long Frosty La Rue's tent-show did a land-office
business.
Poor old Frosty! Many of the cowboys could shoot better than he; but
they didn't shoot at colored glass balls. The bareback riding also came
under some contempt; but the spangles and pink fleshings carried much
weight, the Signorina painted most artistically, and, as Aunt Huldah
said, "When she was a-goin' right fast on that fat white hoss, with the
little platform on his back, an' a-smilin' an' kissin' her hand, she did
really look right nice."
Minnie's trapeze acts were truly fine, and were appreciated at their
full value; and the beautiful little figure walking the wire twenty feet
above the ground was greeted with unlimited enthusiasm.
When the evening came, old Frosty, inclined to be as nervous and
irritable with Gilbert as he dared, came running into the latter's place
worrying about the fireworks.
"Now you chase yourself along," advised the sheriff, good-naturedly.
"Just get right along, an' 'tend to your little old illuminated
knife-throwin' trick. 'Tain't ten minutes till that's due, an' you've
got a crowd that's good for five hundred dollars if it's good for a
cent, when you pass the hat. And," he added, delight in the scheme he
was working getting the better of his natural instinct for literal
truth, "and luck--just fool luck--has sent you the finest fireworks
operator in West Texas. Shoo out of here now, an' 'tend to your own job,
an' let me 'tend to mine!"
As for the children of the Wagon-Tire House, they were perhaps more
glorious on that warm, dark July night than anything in their after
lives could make them. This is not to say that the six were not destined
for happy or distinguished careers; but, after all, the magnificence of
an occasion depends greatly upon the point of view; and the small hill
is a high mountain to the little child.
They had been permitted to extend invitations to the more favored of
their young friends. Bunt Tarver and Roach Porterman's two small girls,
with Eddie Beach, who lived on a ranch outside of Blowout and stayed all
night at the Wagon-Tire House (in a state of bliss that was almost
cataleptic), were among the little bunch that presented themselves to go
upon the roof of the kitchen, from which a magnificent view of the
fireworks was to be had.
"I can't have it," Troy announced. "I can't have you children up here."
"Oh, yes, Gib--oh, yes, you can. They won't--" Aunt Huldah's voice sank
to a murmur, which Troy Gilbert answered with a shake of the head.
"Well, ef they do see anything, they'll keep still--my chil'en are
trained to mind; and these others are all good people;" and Aunt Huldah
beamed upon the palpitating, expectant, alarmed little band.
"Keep still!"--what an awful phrase for such a connection! Gilbert
turned and asked them kindly, "Will you, kids? Will you keep right
still, whatever you see?"
Only Gess and Tell were bold enough to put the horror into words.
"'Tain't no use fer us to promise," Gess said huskily. "We're jest bound
to holler when the fireworks begins to go off, even if we had promised
cross-yer-heart."
And Tell piped in, after him, as usual:
"W'y, a circus is jest hollerin'--or some hollerin' is the best part of
a circus." And he added, with a suspicious tremble in his voice, "I'd
rather go downstairs an' set in the kitchen, if we can't holler."
Troy burst out laughing at sight of the dejected faces.
"Oh, holler all you want to--holler as much as you can--I don't mean
hollerin'. I expect to do some pretty considerable hollerin' myself,
and I've got a lot of the boys promised to holler at the right time.
But there's to be a little--a little extra performance up here on the
roof, and if you see anything queer about it, you mustn't let on--you
mustn't tell."
"That's all right," assured Aunt Huldah, turning to descend the narrow
little stairway. "They'll do jest as you tell 'em, Gib. Mind you don't
tip them soap boxes over an' fall off'n the roof, chil'en. Sissy, you
keep tight hold of Ally's hand--she's apt to fly when the big
performance comes;" and Aunt Huldah's rich, mellow, chuckling laugh came
back to them up the stairs.
One would have said that nothing on earth could make matters more
glorious to the children of the Wagon-Tire House on this Fourth of July
evening; but after Troy Gilbert's words, they trod not upon the earthen
roof of the hotel, but on air; they sat not upon soap boxes, but on
thrones.
Nay, kings were small people compared to them. There was to be a
mysterious extra performance, in which the sheriff was implicated; it
would take place under their very noses, and they were asked to assist,
to keep still about it!
Gilbert had said truly: the crowd was a big one, and most enthusiastic.
As a matter of fact, there were nearly a hundred cowboys on hand who had
been let into Gilbert's scheme. The fireworks were equally successful
whether they blazed splendidly or fizzled ingloriously. It was enough
for the boys that Troy Gilbert was doing the act; they whooped at every
figure, and whooped again at Troy's unaccustomed drollery.
There was a strain of intense expectancy in the audience, communicated,
though without their knowledge, to those not in the secret from those
who were; so that the crowd was wildly eager, without altogether knowing
why.
After the display of pin-wheels, fiery serpents, bouquets, Roman candles
and rockets, old Frosty and Mrs. Frosty (otherwise the Signorina
Ippolita di Castelli) came on the small platform to do their
knife-throwing-act, the knives trailing fiery tails. This kept the
audience entertained during the time necessary to prepare the Columbia
act.
"Bet you'd be scared to do that," whispered Eddie Beach.
"Bet I wouldn't," Gess made answer. "I'd jest as soon sling them old
knives--Mr. La Rue said me an' Tell was likely boys to train. I bet
Ally'd hold as still as the Signorina 'f I was to throw them knives at
her."
For the Columbia performance Gilbert had, during the day, stretched
another wire about five feet and three inches above the big wire on
which Minnie was to walk. Indeed, it was this secondary wire which had
caused the eruption of old Frosty demanding to "know."
When the knife-throwing act was finished, there was a short pause
followed by a little murmur of applause; and this grew louder and
louder, until it was a medley of whoops, yells, stamping, and calls in
every tone and key for the next act--the grand stroke of the
performance. Frosty and the Signorina forbore to go upon the roof of the
Roundup to receive Minnie, until they should see her start from the roof
of the hotel.
Figures were seen upon the top of the Wagon-Tire House (both roofs were
flat) and Frosty strained his eyes eagerly toward that end of the big
wire. The wondering children drew back and refrained even from
whispering among themselves--Troy's caution was not needed. Strange
doings, indeed, were going forward about the end of the wire. Troy
Gilbert was apparently pushing a reluctant figure toward it--it looked
as though the person were tied, and he laughed and struck her when she
seemed unwilling.
Finally, Columbia began to move out slowly along the wire. She was
everything that audience or proprietor could desire. The spiked tiara
was on her head, blazing with violet light. Down her back hung her fair
curling hair; in her hands was the long balancing pole--Columbia's
scepter of power; and her white draperies were illuminated with fires of
blue and crimson and violet.
The children stared, silent, motionless, expectant. They were nearer
than those in the street and had had opportunity to observe the
irregularity of Columbia's launching.
There was a little outburst of applause when she first appeared. But as
she moved out over the wire, the silence was so complete that the
coughing of one of the patient ponies on the outskirts of the crowd was
plainly audible.
Those in the secret were silent, in ecstasies of admiration. The
children kept still because they had been told to--whatever they saw.
Those not instructed were mute with amazement--a sort of creeping awe.
Most of the audience had seen Minnie that afternoon in the tent-show,
her slender girlish form clad in spangled gauze, her delicate blonde
prettiness enhanced by the attire, doing her trapeze act. She had then
moved with the lithe grace of a young deer; her face had been all eager
animation. What sort of thing was this, that seemed to advance along the
wire as though it were on casters--that was never seen to take a step?
What face was this, strange, staring, immobile as a face carved in wood?
"Gee!" murmured one of the X Q K boys, who had come in late and was
uninformed. "Gee, I ain't been a-drinkin' a thing--what in the name o'
pity ails that gal!"
"Great Scott; she gives me the mauley-grubs! Ugh!" and his companion
shivered. But save for these murmured comments, the crowd was intensely
still.
Suddenly, about the middle of the street, Columbia's forward movement
slackened, checked altogether. This was not unexpected, for midway the
rockets fastened about her waist, and upon her crown were to be
discharged. The manner in which these latter went off brought shrieks
and groans from the crowd below. They fizzed up into Columbia's face,
they burned against her bodice, they struck her arms. "Oh! oh! Poor
soul! she'll have her eyes put out! She'll be killed!" cried a woman's
voice from the street.
"I might 'a' known better than to trust that fool Gilbert with them
fireworks," groaned old Frosty. "That there girl is worth more'n a
hundred dollars a month to me. If I was to take her East I could hire
her out for two hundred, easy, an' here she's likely to get all crippled
up, so's't she won't never be no account."
Columbia was the only personage unmoved by all the fiery demonstrations;
she stood rigid, looking strangely massive and tall, till the last
rocket had spent itself. Then her progress began again with a sort of
jerk. A shudder went over her frame, the pole wavered in her
hands--those hands that seemed so limp and lifeless--she tottered, made
a violent movement with her head, then swayed out sidewise and
fell--holding the pole tight in her hands!
And the strangest sound went up from that big assembly, a mingled sound
of groans and smothered outcries, and also what one might have
sworn--had it not seemed impossible--was wild hysteric laughter.
Gess and Tell and Eddie Beach, luxuriating in Troy's permission to
"holler as much as they pleased," emitted shrieks that would have
chilled the blood of any whom this strange spectacle had not already
terrified.
For, instead of falling to the ground twenty feet below, as would have
been natural, and lying there, a mangled body, Columbia hung to the
wire, a mad, fantastic, incredible spectacle, head downward, in a blaze
of inverted patriotic splendor!
The wildest confusion ensued. Frosty was beside himself. He simply
danced and yelled where he stood. Those who were in the secret shouted
themselves hoarse with rapture, capering like dervishes, embracing one
another; those who were not, screamed with horror and dismay.
As all gazed fascinated, something drifted down from the hanging figure.
A cowboy plunged forward, caught it up, and there broke upon the sudden
stillness which had followed this incident, a roar of hearty laughter,
as he held high in the blaze of light that came from the pendent figure,
Columbia's wooden-seeming countenance--a false face!
Instantly, the shouting and confusion broke out again. The figure began
to sway; and the light draperies were ignited by some bit of fire which
had been brought into contact with them, by the inversion of Columbia's
proper position.
The figure showed that, beyond the streaming golden hair--the beautiful
fair hair which Aunt Huldah had cut from Daisy's head, and which Daisy
had given with loving generosity--and the stuffed-out waist of
Columbia's classic robe, the only anatomy Columbia possessed was an
upright post with a wheel at the bottom--a caster indeed!--which had run
upon the big wire.
At the top of Columbia's head there had been another wheel, which ran,
trolley-like, upon the upper wire; and a slender wire traveling along
the lower, or footway wire, had drawn the figure forward.
Some obstacle had been met in the overhead wire; and when the figure
was jerked forward, harder and harder, to overcome this, the upper
attachment finally gave way entirely and allowed the figure to fall.
Only Gilbert's precaution of looping a heavy wire from axle to axle of
the lower wheel around the footway wire, had prevented Columbia from
falling to the ground.
As the explanation began to spread over the crowd--not in whispers, but
in shouts, mingled with roars of laughter--those who had been instructed
beforehand pressed round old Frosty and the Signorina in a dense mass.
Threats, complaints, demands, all sorts of outcries filled the air.
"You old fakir!"
"What do you mean by it, Frosty?"
"Do you think you're a-goin' to run a blazer like this on us, and we'll
swaller hit like hit was catnip tea?"
"What fer did ye want to fool us thataway?"
"We ain't a-goin' to stand it--we'll----"
"Gentlemen, jest be quiet. Let me out--let me git across the street to
the Wagon-Tire--where my daughter is--and I can explain things."
"Explain nothin'!" was the cry; "you'll explain right here! Do you think
Blowout is a-goin' to stand this kind o' thing?"
"Who put you up to run this blazer on us? Them fellers at Plain View? Er
them scrubs at Cinche? This town ain't a-goin' to stand it!"
"Gentlemen," came Frosty's pipe again, "gentlemen, let me out--jest let
me git to my daughter--let me git out o' here before it's too late! This
is some o' that scoundrel Kid Barringer's doin's. Let me out,
gentlemen!"
But the old man had gone the wrong way about it. Kid was one of them, a
good fellow, and much liked. Even those who knew nothing now scented a
romance. The big crowd hemmed old Frosty in and held him there with
pretended wrath and resentment.
* * * * *
At the back door of the Wagon-Tire House, just before the wooden
Columbia appeared to the eyes of Blowout, a meeting had taken place.
From that door Aunt Huldah had stepped with Minnie clinging to her arm.
In the dense shadow Kid Barringer was waiting with two of the best
ponies in Wild Horse County. He came eagerly forward.
"Kid," said Aunt Huldah's heartsome voice, "here's Minnie--I've brung
her to you. I b'lieve we're doin' right. You're a good boy, Kid. An' I
know you love her an' will take keer o' her. Ef you wasn't to, you'd
shore have me to fight!" and she chuckled genially.
"Good-by, honey. Ye needn't to look skeered. We-all have got ye now, an'
we'll take keer of ye--the hull kit an' bilin' o' us. Good-by, bless
your sweet little heart!"
With the word Minnie was in her saddle, swung there by her lover's
strong arms, and away across the levels beside him.
And while, back in Blowout, the Signorina fairly clawed, cat-like, to
get through that wall of cowboys and across the street to where
(believing Kid Barringer to be as far away as Fort Worth) she had left
Minnie scarce half an hour before--while the old man shouted and swore
and protested and fairly wept with rage and apprehension; Kid Barringer
reached his left hand out to his companion, saying:
"Slack him down a little, honey; we're safe now. Mr. Ferguson, the
Presbyterian preacher--he's promised me--I told him--an' he's a-goin' to
marry us. His place ain't half a mile further on, an' he's lookin' fer
us. We're safe now, my poor little girl."
The cowboys, with roars of delight, fished down the remains of the
dangling Columbia, while the original performer, to whom Columbia's
figure was understudy, stood in Mr. Ferguson's little parlor, waiting
for that gentleman to bring in a second witness. Her little fair head
was resting on Kid's broad shoulder; Kid's arm was around her slender
figure; and she was saying, between laughter and tears:
"Kid, how do you reckon that old machine Columbia is getting along with
my turn, back there at Blowout?"
And the happy bridegroom made blissful answer: "I don't know--or
keer--honey. She can go it on her head for all of us, can't she? She
give us our chance to get away, and that was all we wanted. Aunt Huldy
is the Lord's own people. I'll never forget her. You wouldn't hardly 'a'
thought I was good enough, if Aunt Huldy hadn't a-recommended me, I
don't believe. My little girl ain't never a-goin' to get to walk no more
wires."
ONE OF THE PALLS
BY DOANE ROBINSON
I were a pall to the burrying,
Joe's finally out of the way,
Nothing 'special ailing of him,
Just old age and gen'ral decay.
Hope to the Lord that I'll never be
Old and decrepit and useless as he.
Cuss to his family the last five year--
Monstrous expensive with keep so dear--
'Sides all the fuss and worrying.
Terrible trial to get so old;
Cur'us a man will continue to hold
So on to life, when it's easy to see
His chances for living, tho' dreadfully slim,
Are better than his family are lotting for him.
Joe was that kind of a hanger on;
Hadn't no sense of the time to quit;
Stunted discretion and stall-fed grit
Helped him unbuckle many a cinch,
Where a sensible man would have died in the pinch.
Kind of tickled to have him gone;
Bested for once and laid away,
Got him down where he's bound to stay;
I were a pall to his burrying.
Knowed him for more than sixty year back--
Used to be somewhat older than him
Fought him one night to a husking bee;
Licked him in manner uncommon complete;
Every one said 'twas a beautiful fight;
Joe he wa'n't satisfied with it that way,
Kept dinging along, and when he got through
The worst looking critter that you ever see
Were stretched on a bed rigged up in the hay--
They carted me home the following day.
Got me a sweetheart purty and trim,
Told me that I was a heap likelier than Joe;
Mittened him twict; he kept on the track,
Followed her round every place she would go;
Offered to lick him; says she, "It's a treat,
Let's watch and find out what the poor critter will do."
Watched him, believing the thing was all right--
That identical girl is Joe's widow to-night.
Run to be justice, then Joe he run, too;
Knowed I was pop'lar and he hadn't a friend,
So there wa'n't no use of my hurrying.
The 'lection came off, we counted the votes;
I hadn't enough; Joe had them to lend.
Now all the way through I had been taking notes
Of his disagreeable way,
And it tickles me now to be able to say
He's bested for good in the end;
Got him down where he's bound to stay;
I were a pall to his burrying.
THE V-A-S-E
BY JAMES JEFFREY ROCHE
From the madding crowd they stand apart,
The maidens four and the Work of Art;
And none might tell from sight alone
In which had Culture ripest grown--
The Gotham Million fair to see,
The Philadelphia Pedigree,
The Boston Mind of azure hue,
Or the soulful Soul from Kalamazoo--
For all loved Art in a seemly way,
With an earnest soul and a capital A.
* * * * *
Long they worshipped; but no one broke
The sacred stillness, until upspoke
The Western one from the nameless place,
Who, blushing, said: "What a lovely vase!"
Over three faces a sad smile flew,
And they edged away from Kalamazoo.
But Gotham's haughty soul was stirred
To crush the stranger with one small word.
Deftly hiding reproof in praise,
She cries: "'T is, indeed, a lovely vaze!"
But brief her unworthy triumph when
The lofty one from the house of Penn,
With the consciousness of two grandpapas,
Exclaims: "It is quite a lovely vahs!"
And glances round with an anxious thrill,
Awaiting the word of Beacon Hill.
But the Boston maid smiles courteouslee
And gently murmurs: "Oh, pardon me!
"I did not catch your remark, because
I was so entranced with that charming vaws!"
_Dies erit proegelida
Sinistra quum Bostonia._
EVE'S DAUGHTER
BY EDWARD ROWLAND SILL
I waited in the little sunny room:
The cool breeze waved the window-lace, at play,
The white rose on the porch was all in bloom,
And out upon the bay
I watched the wheeling sea-birds go and come.
"Such an old friend,--she would not make me stay
While she bound up her hair." I turned, and lo,
Danaë in her shower! and fit to slay
All a man's hoarded prudence at a blow:
Gold hair that streamed away
As round some nymph a sunlit fountain's flow.
"She would not make me wait!"--but well I know
She took a good half-hour to loose and lay
Those locks in dazzling disarrangement so!
THE DULUTH SPEECH
BY J. PROCTOR KNOTT
The House having under consideration the joint resolution (S. R. No.
11), extending the time to construct a railroad from the St. Croix river
or lake to the west end of Lake Superior and to Bayfield--
Mr. Knott said:--
MR. SPEAKER: If I could be actuated by any conceivable inducement to
betray the sacred trust reposed in me by those to whose generous
confidence I am indebted for the honor of a seat on this floor; if I
could be influenced by any possible consideration to become instrumental
in giving away, in violation of their known wishes, any portion of their
interest in the public domain for the mere promotion of any railroad
enterprise whatever, I should certainly feel a strong inclination to
give this measure my most earnest and hearty support; for I am assured
that its success would materially enhance the pecuniary prosperity of
some of the most valued friends I have on earth,--friends for whose
accommodation I would be willing to make almost any sacrifice not
involving my personal honor or my fidelity as the trustee of an express
trust. And that fact of itself would be sufficient to countervail almost
any objection I might entertain to the passage of this bill not inspired
by an imperative and inexorable sense of public duty.