earnestly. And they do spend a lot for advertising, when you come to think of it.

"But I've no more investments to make," I urged. "You've got the fever," he said, "and I don't believe you. You'll probably be figuring your paper profits when you ought to be working. The only thing for you to do is to tear up your stock certificates and forget that you ever bought them."

Think of the nerve of that! I was so startled I couldn't speak.

"They'll be worth more to you that way than any other," he added.

I walked away from him without another word. He must think I'm crazy. I don't like the sarcastic way he advised me to try to get the profit.

Saturday, May 4.-I'm broke, and it's up to me to raise some money on my stock. I won't sell it, because I don't want to lose the big profits that are coming, but I'll borrow something to tide me over. I ought to be able to get $50 or $100 on it without trouble. I'll tackle one of the big banks Monday. No Cheap John place for me. When you've got the goods, go to the best market, for that's where you get the best treatment. Monday, May 6.-I tried the American Trust and Savings Bank, and I haven't got over it yet. The way Mr. John Jay Abbott, one of the vice-presidents, looked at me made me think that he suspected me of burglary. I was referred to Mr. Abbott as the man to see about a loan. I gave him a list of my securities, and he looked them over in some bewilderment.

"What are these?" he asked. "Securities," I told him.

"Securities!" he repeated, and he gave me a look that made me mighty uncomfortable. "Securities!"

.

"Yes," I said, trying to speak confidently. "I want to borrow some money on them.".

"You want to borrow some money on these things!" I was pretty sure then that I wasn't going to get it, but I hung on. He went over the list again, very much as he might have examined some interesting curiosities. "Is there such a company as the Nevada Greenback Wonder?" he asked.

I showed him my certificate for 300 shares of stock.

"I didn't know," he said. "Somehow, I didn't think anybody would have the effrontery to use a name that is so palpably a cheap lure. Nevada

Greenback Wonder! It is almost a joke.

It was discouraging, but I reminded him that he had given me no answer on the subject of the loan.

"We wouldn't lend a dollar on all of the stock you offer,' he said emphatically.

"It has a par value of $750," I urged.

"

'And a bank value of absolutely nothing," he returned. "We couldn't do a thing with such stock as that."

"The Toledo, Wabash, and St. Louis has advanced 50 per cent," I argued, "and the Cobalt Certainty goes up 20 per cent Wednesday."

that you can generally do better at headquarters than you can with subordinates.

The thing that hurt me the most was his answer, toward the end of the interview, when I asked him if I could not do anything at all with these stocks.

"Not unless you find another fool," he said.

But his very first remark was the reverse of reassuring. I had stated my business and given him a list of my securities.

"Can any man be crazy enough to invest in such things?" he exclaimed.

"I have," I said.

He looked at me as if I were the only one of the kind. "I wouldn't lend five cents on all you've got," he declared. "They're absolutely unbankable."

One Definition of a Deliberate Liar CALLED his attention to the claims that Toledo, Wabash, and St. Louis should pay 40 per cent on the par value of its capital stock when completed, that Cobalt Certainty should sell above par within three months, and that 110 per cent annual dividends was considered a conservative estimate of what might be expected from Greenback Wonder soon.

Any man who makes any such promises is a deliberate liar," he said. "I don't know who are behind these concerns, but to hold out hope of any such divi

Just the same, I can't believe the case as bad as that. I will write to these bankers and make myself clearer; perhaps when I talked to them I was rattled, and they

misunderstood me.

Thursday, May 9.-Cheated! No chance to get any money on my stock. It looks as if I had been a blithering idiot, and I'm paying for it now.

I wrote to each of the three banks, asking for a reconsideration of their decisions in the matter of lending me money on my stocks. I told them I was sure they could not have understood the situation when 1 made my verbal application. And here is what I got from the Merchants' Loan and Trust Company: CHICAGO, May 8, 1907

R. E. WOLFE, 505 Tacoma Building, Chicago: Dear Sir-Yours of the 7th instant received, asking us to reconsider our refusal to make a loan on your Toledo, Wabash & St. Louis, Cobalt Certainty, Greenback Wonder stocks.

The securities offered we consider actually valueless as collateral, and we could not for a moment entertain them. Yours truly, ORSON SMITH, President.

The reply of the American Trust and Savings Bank is even worse: CHICAGO, May 8, 1907

R. E. WOLFE, 505 Tacoma Building, Chicago:
Dear Sir-We have your letter of the 7th instant,

"In the advertising, perhaps," he said, "but it has no recognized value outside of that. Not one share of the stock you offer has any market value whatever." I don't know how I had the nerve to persist, but I was broke and desperate.

"Look at the dividends that are promised," I urged. "Don't you think there will be any?"

"Oh, I wouldn't say that," he replied. "They can well afford to pay you back some of your own money as dividends, just to make you feel happy and to help the game along. I don't know anything about these companies personally, but I should regard the dividends they talk about as among the most suspicious features."

"Don't banks make money by such investments?" I asked, remembering the advice to be "your own banker.'

"I haven't time to argue this question with you," he said impatiently, "but I will say this: Banks don't invest in stocks at all; they lend money on them, but they don't invest in them. These particular stocks and others like them we would not have in our vaults under any circumstances. If a bank examiner should find them there, he would be justified in closing the bank on the ground that its management was wholly irresponsible. You might almost say it would be incriminating evidence. That's all that I care to say about it. He turned back to his desk, and I left in a daze. bank ought to know something about security values. What Bankers Think of Such "Securities"

"

A

TUESDAY, May 7.-Turned down hard by the.

Merchants' Loan and Trust Company and the Woodlawn Trust and Savings Bank! I thought, perhaps, it was too small a matter to interest the big banks, so I tried the Woodlawn Trust, which is one of the smaller, outlying banks, but it seems to be as conservative-that's what they would call it, I suppose-as any of the down-town banks.

Örson Smith, president of the Merchants' Loan and Trust, was actually brutal in some of his remarks. I went direct to the president, because I have discovered

dends is a palpable confidence game. Why, men with money and the brains to keep it are glad to be sure of 41⁄2 and 5 per cent. These schemes would be more alluring to men who understand investments if they promised no more than that."

"Some of the stock already has gone up," I told him. "Don't you think I can sell at the prices given?"

"You might if you started out to raise a row about it," he answered. "Some of these people might buy their stock back, rather than have any trouble stirred up that would interfere with their sales. I can't think of any other way you could do it-unless you find another fool."

I was too worried to take offense; otherwise, I should have resented this. "Mr. Preston promises to sell for me at the highest market price," I said.

"I shouldn't expect him to do it," was the reply, "unless he gets the idea that you are going to kick up a rumpus that will hurt him. Then he might."

I tried to argue that at least one out of the three schemes ought to be good, but he shut me off with the remark that he had already given too much time to such a silly proposition. I hadn't much hope when I left him, but it seemed possible that I might be able to do something with one of the smaller banks, and I have simply got to raise some money. So I journeyed out to Woodlawn as a forlorn hope.

"I would as soon lend you money on a copy of last Sunday's paper," said Charles M. Poague, vice-president of the Woodlawn Trust and Savings Bank.

This sounded like a joke, and I told him it was a serious matter with me.

"On second thought," he went on, "I should consider the newspaper the better security, for it would sell for more at pound rates."

"You won't lend anything at all on these stocks?" I asked.

"Not a penny," he declared emphatically. "I have too high a regard for my reputation for sanity."

I was too discouraged to press the matter further, even if he would have listened to me; but he intimated very clearly that he considered the matter settled and the interview at an end.

asking us to reconsider our refusal to make you a loan secured by stocks of the following companies:

Toledo, Wabash & St. Louis,
Cobalt Certainty,
Greenback Wonder.

We have taken carefully into consideration all the statements which you have made in regard to these stocks; but, in our opinion, they are absolutely worthless, and are certainly not the kind of collateral which this bank would accept as security to a loan. We thought that this matter had been made clear to you when you first asked for the accommodation. Yours very truly,

JOHN JAY ABBOTT,
Vice-President.

The Woodlawn Trust and Savings Bank, which might be expected to have a more liberal policy, is as bad as either of the others:

CHICAGO, May 8, 1907

Mr. R. E. WOLFE, 505 Tacoma
Building, Chicago:

Dear Sir-Your favor of the 7th inst., requesting a reconsideration of our refusal to make you a loan on the stock of the Toledo, Wabash, and St. Louis, Cobalt Certainty, and Greenback Wonder, is at hand. As we told you in our interview a few days ago, these stocks are not such as we would lend anything upon.

We note that you say in your letter: "Surely these stocks, five hundred and twenty-five shares in all, will justify at least a small loan." In answer we would say that, in our opinion, the more of such stocks you offer, the less loan they will justify.

Regretting that we can not do business with you on the collateral you offer, we remain, yours truly,

CHAS. M. POAGUE, Vice-President.

That's bad enough, surely; but there is worse. My previous experience had prepared me for a further refusal by the banks, so I applied to Forgy & Fox, investment bankers, who advertise that they grant liberal advances on "invoices, warehouse receipts. and other negotiable contracts, securities or collaterals." That seemed to include what I had to offer, but this is their reply:

CHICAGO, May 9, 1907

Mr. R. E. WOLFE, 505 Tacoma Building, City:

Dear Sir-We are in receipt of your letter of May 8, making inquiry whether or not we could handle as collateral securities mentioned in your letter for a loan, and in reply we wish to say that we do not handle this class of collateral. We beg to remain, very respectfully,

FORGY & Fox, by GLENN C. FORGY. Where is That Promised Profit ?

I ALSO tried the State Loan and Discount Company. 1401 Champlain Building, which advertises to make loans on "anything that is security for the amount wanted. They did not answer my letter, so I called in person. The manager listened to what I had to say at first, but cut me off short when I gave him a list of

my stocks.

"Nothing doing," he declared emphatically; "don't handle 'em; won't touch 'em."

row.

I guess that's about the limit. I'm cheated-unless I can sell. You can sometimes sell when you can't borI'll try it. Perhaps the companies will buy my stock back when I tell them how hard up I am. They are predicting still further advances, so there would be a little profit in it for them. Their advertisements tell me I've already got a profit. Then where is it? Where are these prices to be had? I'll make somebody tell

me that!

P

ORK SKIDDINGS had been four weeks late getting back to Clark Street. Matty Morse of the Chin Yen Chop Suey House usually looked for him when the post-season baseball games started. This year the games were won and lost and October lengthened into November, when late one morning, just after Morse had settled with his Chinese partner, a wanderer entered wearily and leaned over the cigar case.

"Here now, you," Morse began, "this is no-"

And there he stopped. Behind the stubble of beard he recognized his friend. Clicking the cash drawer, he led the way down the decorated room toward a screen in one corner, gave Pork a chair, and took a seat opposite.

"Now then," he asked, "how did it happen?" Pork looked warily about.

"I'd been here earlier," he began, "but just as I was coming up-say, what about that lady in the Queen Elizabeth gown that left about ten minutes ago?"

"With the peacock opera cloak?"

"The same."

"She comes in here most every evening. She's the goods."

"Yes-but do you know who she is?"

"Oh, from the vaudeville, I guess. Some actor guy is generally along."'

"Nothing of the kind-not anywhere near it. That's Miss Sadie Delarey, the phenomenal south-paw female pitcher, the greatest sidewheeler of her sex in the world, and I know whereof I speak."

The all-night Chink brought food, and as Pork fell to Matty watched him. He did not press his visitor until his immediate needs had been attended to, after which he brought a large, fat cigar.

"With reference to what?" then asked Matty.

"With reference to the most awful season I was ever through," said Pork, "the most horrifyin' time of my life, beside which my career as the tattooed wild man was a summer dream. She ain't likely to come back?"

Matty reassured him. 'Come to think of it," he said, "it's only lately she's been coming in here."

"It's only lately she's finished the grand tour," informed Pork. "It ain't so very long ago she finished me. And if ever a man had a case for damages-but what show do you stand with a woman and a jury?

'Anyhow-but listen:

"It was last May, when I thought it was about time for the summer lay that I answered the ad for the bright young man who knew something of the country, and who was wanted to take charge of a novel touring proposition at a good salary and all expenses paid; must be sober, reliable, courteous, and of good address -my very picture. And it was a few choice words in a businesslike handwriting for Z 665, and by way of answer a scent of heliotrope wafted from the notepaper, and then the Orient Hotel.

"So we met. She had a large bunch of reddishmahogany hair in fair repair, and she wore a loose Japanese robe like one of these screens - for which she apologized, it being early in the day, and she hadn't expected me to call before I P. M.

By L. H. BICKFORD

"I liked the tone of your letter,' says she, 'for it showed refinement and was right to the point, although, of course, I had hundreds and hundreds of answers. But I have a sort of clairvoyance in these matters, and I hadn't opened your envelope before I says to myself: 'This is the party.' Then she asks: 'Mebbe you've heard of me?' I told her I hadn't the honor, whereupon she raises the kimono, or what you will, from her left arm, and brings her muscles. taut, and exhibits as fine an advertisement for the Home Exerciser as you ever saw. That,' she says, working it up and down, 'is my pitching arm, and I've got down every shoot or curve or drop that ever went

"I am no Indian linguist. I only know Onadeka' "'

over the plate, and to be brief, because I can see you're a man who wants to get right at business, I have been managing the All-Star Female Baseball Club, but that game don't pay any more.' She went on swinging her arm. "The public wants novelty. Now, you've heard of lady baseball clubs before-I don't claim to have originated 'em, but they're out of date. Our receipts fell off last summer, and I told Miss Mazie Magoon, our short-stop, that something new would have to

be done, and we thought it out, and I've a plan-new, novel, and nifty.'

"Here she arises and goes to her trunk, and therefrom takes a long poster with a picture on it of what looked like a half-back dressed in a baseball suit. And it read: The Onadeka Squaws, the Only Female Indian Baseball Club in the World, Right off the Onadeka Reservation, by Permission of the Government,' and, she says: "That's the wrinkle, nowwhatdoyouthinkofit?'

"I said I never saw anything like it before, and that was the truth. First, it smashed me, and then I asked if it was true she could lure nine Onadeka squaws from their lawful husbands, and who were the Onadekas,

anyway? She gives a low, ripplin' laugh and says, kind of jollying: 'My dear Mr. Skiddings, you see one of the squaws before you, and before long you will see the others. As for Onadeka, Miss Mazie Magoon and I invented that, and what is it Shakespeare says about a name anyway?' And at this I absorb the proposition.

"She explained the grand tour. We have a private car, and that gives us a sort of exclusiveness that ladies are entitled to who are traveling together. And it seems to me that these dark wigs, which you see are combed straight. Indian fashion, will help the illusion. We shall wear short skirts, like the cowgirls in the musical comedies, and, of course, plenty of beads. As for our complexions-but that is a woman's secret, Mr. Skiddings, that I do not suppose interests you. I can only say that we shall certainly look the part when in action. As for you, all you have to do is to watch the financial end of the enterprise and act as interpreter. You need anticipate no trouble'how well I now recall those words-'if you are discreet, and I should-consider one hundred dollars a month and expenses not too much for the right sort of an assistant. I will say for my ball club that nine more perfect ladiesnot counting the cook-do not exist in the business.'

Pork flourished his cigar.

44

'And there you are. I took that job. You see me now. To-night you have seen her, with

her peacock cloak and her diamonds."

But-" began Matty.

"In due order," declared Pork, "I will pass on to my shame. I will not give you the preface of the getaway, and will dwell lightly on our arrival at the first stand, at Outworks, Iowa, where Miss Sadie Delarey had booked up by mail. I still contend that if we'd had an advance agent-but that is past. I will say that Miss Sadie acted all to the square with me. She gave me the stateroom in the private car. and was considerate, everything taken in the balance. There were eleven of us, including the female cook, who was a good-natured colored person and sort of utility maid to boot. I should say that most of the ladies had

at one time or another been concerned with the theatrical profession, they were that free and cheerful. If they had one fault it was poker, and of that I shall have more to speak of anon.

"We drew into Outworks early in the morning and were left on a siding. I got out about eight o'clock to go and look up the manager of the Outworks Blues, and I found him to be the town plumber, and the first thing he wanted to know was if we gave a parade. I

told him no, that the squaw ladies were more or less reticent about that, and a parade would more'n likely take the edge off the attendance. He said he supposed that was business all right, but he was sorry, because a parade always took. He said that the season before his club had played the All-Star Champion Female Baseball Club, and that they gave a parade and it sort of whet interest in the main show. When he said that I got to thinking, for that was the name of Miss Sadie Delarey's aggregation before it became the All-Squaws, and I wondered if he'd get onto the deception. We fixed up the contracts, and about ten I hiked back to the car, somewhat fearful, for I wanted to warn Miss Sadie Delarey that she might be discovered. My fears, however, were allayed. There was quite a crowd around the car, but the curtains were all down, and when Sarah, the cook, let me in, I saw that a transformation had happened. The Onadeka Squaws had not been idle, and were now in their warpaint, and when I went down the aisle I thought for a minute I had struck a carload of Indians bound for a World's Exposition. Say, they had fixed themselves up until you'd of thought they were all about to break out and sing 'Hiawatha.' And I must give Miss Sadie Delarey credit for having made 'em more or less attractive in their short skirts and beads and moccasins.

"The bus came at two, and the All-Squaws wrapped themselves in long blankets and trooped out the back of the car while the seething

down.' This was good advice, and lasted until-but I'm coming to the 6th of September, which I ain't liable to soon forget, in due season.

"In some respects my job was a snap, and again it wasn't. It may sound strange when I tell you it was more or less lonesome, considering I was in the company of ten females, but that was the truth, as I could see that Miss Sadie Delarey's idea was that I keep to my stateroom. We made a lot of towns through Iowa and Kansas and Nebraska, and then up through Texas and into New Mexico. And yet I could not fail to observe that now and then the Squaws were restless, and I opine that the first break in the happy family came about through the poker games. My experience is that no baseball club, amateur, professional, American, National, or anything, can long survive a poker game played en route. A loser's a loser, and he's sore, or she's sore,

as the case may be. There got to be little cliques, and more than once Miss Sadie Delarey got out of her berth at night and shooed Rippling Water and Wind-of-thePrairie and Singing Snowbird off to the bunks while they were wrangling over the subject of strange deals. And like as not some of them wouldn't be speaking to some of the others the next morning, when Sallie, the cook, passed through with the bacon and coffee. And it was shortly after he made this discovery that your friend, who'd been all to the fine behavior, and who'd counted up the cash like a little gentleman and staved off the keen-for-to-know Reubens that were always trying to butt in on the car on the sidetracks-it was about this time that he cut loose and divorced himself from his comfortable one hundred per month and found. Although I'll leave it to you if our hero, being only human, was all to the blame.

populace looked on and said things, and then followed us on out to the park. Of course, there were the fresh guys with the war-whoops like you hear when Bender goes in the box, and somebody hollered 'Hurrah for the Harem,' but altogether it was no misbehavin' crowd more than you ordinarily find. When we got to the park and the Squaws went to their bench it was plain we were going to have a good house, for the bleachers were packed and there was a sizable bunch in the grand stand. And when the Squaws threw off their blankets and went out for their fifteen minutes' practise, the crowd gave them the hand of welcome and the shout of glee, and everything looked fine. The Outworks Blues sized up their rivals with some curiosity, not unmindful, either, of the gentle josh that was poked at 'em. The Blues were a likely looking lot of young fellows, at that, and I want to say for 'em that they did not get funny."

Pork Skiddings paused to accept another of Matty's cigars, and took from his pocket a square pasteboard. "I've kept that," he said, "as a memento. It's the batting order."

"There," said Pork, "you have the cast of characters, all thought out by Miss Sadie Delarey-Floating Fawn, the left-handed champion female baseball pitcher and hander out of wide ones over the plate, and downshoots and out-curves and all that goes to bughouse the batter. And, for that, it didn't take me long to see that she knew her business, for she struck out six of the Outworks lads in the first three innings, and brought in two Squaws with a three-bagger in the fifth. I am not giving you this game with a box-score attachment. All I want to tell you is how we broke in on the grand tour at Outworks, cleaned up $350, and beat the Blues 11-8. Miss Sadie Delarey had her bunch down pat, and they didn't make a break except once, when Morning Sun, the short-stop-she that was Miss Mazie Magoon-lost her temper on a bum decision on a throw to first. The umpire called the Blue safe, and I thought I heard Morning Sun say it was the worst ever, and in no Onadeka dialect at that, but Floating Fawn turned around and gave her one look, and Morning Sun grunted 'Ugh!' and went on about her business. 'You don't want to forget, girls,' said Miss Sadie Delarey in the car that night, 'that you're not supposed to know any English language. If the umpires are rotten, we'll have to stand it. If you must express your feelings hand out that pigeon English I've taught you and call the interpreter until you steady

It

"We had played a town in Texas that afternoon to. four hundred dollars, our share, and our car was attached to a train going to a place called Ranger, in New Mexico. It was a warm night and before I lit out for the I got the Texas thirst. That thirst has something to do with alkali. It sort of makes you think and long for Milwaukee. Now, Miss Sadie Delarey made it a point not to carry anything more stimulatin' than ginger beer on board for fear of putting the Onadeka Squaws out of training, and although I was on fairly good terms with Sallie, the cook, I knew that ginger beer wasn't what I yearned for. Well, this night I bring into my stateroom one large package containing the brew that hadn't touched my lips since the tour began. I had a dozen bottles, quarts, and as we bowl along I sit by the open window and quaff. tastes fine after the long drought, and I seize a bottle, cause the contents to disappear, and then drop the empty from the moving caravansary. I am dipping into the third quart when the door of the stateroom is pushed open and Wind-ofthe-Prairie, she of second base, trips in and says: 'Oh, Mr. Skiddings, have you got a piece of string-' and gets no further when her eyes light on the beer label. 'Oh,' she says, 'you naughty man, don't you know it's against the rules?' And I tell her a man's throat is its own law. With that she sits down and asks: 'What if Miss Sadie Delarey knew?' 'She'll know nothing,' says I, 'unless you tell her. And what of it anyway? I didn't sign a contract for a seat on the water wagon. I ain't a Squaw.' 'No,' says she aptly, 'I guess you're the squaw man, Mr. Skiddings,' with which she laughs at her bon mot and is still laughing when the door slides open again and the cheerful face of Singing Snowbird is seen, and over her shoulder I gaze into the eyes of Evening Star, both come to find out why Wind-of-thePrairie has not returned with the piece of string. 'Come in, girls,' says Wind-of-the-Prairie, placing one finger on her lips. And they slip in quietly and take seats, and I hear no more about the piece of string. But I am by this time overcome by a feeling of abandon.

back to Miss Sadie Delarey and tell her, if they wish," and with that I knock off the neck of another quart. But I notice this-they make no move to report. Instead, they look at me wistfully. 'I envy you,' says Evening Star finally, while the other two show signs of sympathy, 'I sure envy you that cool-looking beer.' 'Texas is a very thirsty State,' allows Singing Snowbird. Then they listen to the stuff gurgle down my throat, and all at once Wind-of-the-Prairie reaches over and takes one of the bottles and says: 'Well, I don't care-this ain't God's country anyway,' and right away she is imitating me. The others hesitate not. 'Miss Delarey's abed,' says Evening Star, as she toys with another bottle; 'she's abed with ointment on her left wing, and I've told her times enough, goodness knows, that she'd oughtn't to pitch every game even if we don't make more than four stands a week.' And with that Evening Star also reaches out and attaches a quart, and then they fall into a fanning bee from which I discover that all is not right as right can be, even among the peaceful squaws from the Onadeka Reservation. You can pitch some yourself, Harriet,' says Evening Star to Wind-of-the-Prairie, 'and I must say I think the score would have been different at Waco the other day if a certain pitcher hadn't gone once too often to the well, as the saying is.' 'She called me down, the other day,' says Singing Snowbird, 'for not starting after a hit out in my garden, when, as a matter of fact, it never should have got by first base. But is she handing out anything tart to her friend, Mabel Morrison-well, not this season.'

"Well, it isn't long until the revolution is on, and they are tearing the whole cast of characters to pieces, only pausing long enough for me to pull the corks and saying: 'Thank you, Mr. Skiddings, you are very kind, and this is a perfectly lovely party.' It is about eleven o'clock, and the hammer is tripping merrily, when Wind-of-the-Prairie bethinks herself of her little deck

of cards.

"Her little deck of cards! Say-but I will make no excuses. I said that the principal failing of the AllSquaws was poker, and perhaps I should amend that by saying that it wasn't a failing so much as a gift. The cards just seemed to flutter into their hands in pairs, whole troops of the royal family, and they were the best on the draw I ever met. 'It is a scientific game,' says Singing Snowbird once when she naively shows up three kings and a pair and hauls in what's coming to her. And so the merry game goes on and on and little long upright, but now wandering from the straight and narrow, goes down and digs into his roll and keeps up the polite job of never losing to the ladies. So time passes and the wings of night are folded and the beautiful gray dawn is streaked by the roseate shafts of the coming sun, and so on and likewise, before the three squaw sisters guess it's about time to gather up the proceeds and vanish, thanking your humble servant for his hospitality and leaving him strapped

I tell them that they, each and severally, can go

44

and also shy a couple of hundred belonging to Miss Sadie Delarey. I never did have such luck, and I am somewhat grieved as the maidens flutter to their wigwams and I turn over for a short sleep.

ico.

"And so we come to the 6th of September and Ranger, New MexMiss Sadie Delarey herself aroused me by entering my traveling boudoir and shaking me by the shoulder, and I can not fail to notice that she is not in her usual calm since she sees certain empty bottles that have failed to disappear. 'Mr. Skiddings,' she says, 'I must say that I am surprised, and but for what we are up against I do not know but I would ask for your resignation, but we can't get out of this place until the five-five train takes us up, and I suppose we've got to bluff it through, although I must say this is a fine time for you to break out.'

"Is there anything unusual, ma'm?' I asks, trying to collect myself and drawing a hand over my pale and aching brow.

"Is there anything unusual?' she repeats, and then she lifts a corner of the curtain and says: 'Look there!' "I look. The car is surrounded by Indians. They are fraternizing all around us and they are not theatrical Indians, made on Broadway, in any respect. I look at Miss Sadie Delarey.

It seems,' says she, 'that this town is somewhere near an Indian reservation, and that in writing here for a date I got hold of the wrong party. We are not to play the Ranger Browns, champions of Chinchilla County, but a real club from the agency, and even now the committee is hammering at the back door of the car asking for the interpreter-who, I regret to observe, is not at his best. But nevertheless you must meet these gentlemen and see us through while I get the ladies ready. Sadie Delarey was never bluffed yet." "I might add that Miss Delarey's manner, as well

as words, was unfriendly, and as I got into the rest of my clothes and hurried down the car I noticed she was holding converse with the merry squaws who had parted me from my money with their little deck of cards-and there seemed to be more or less explaining going on.

"On the car steps I meet three parties bearing a sign reading thus:

"Baseball To-day.

The Onadeka Squaws versus the Navajo Reds. The Most Unique Ball Game Ever Played. See Emancipated Indian Womanhood Play Their Former Lords and Masters.'

"And if a train had come down the other track just then, Pork Skiddings, the celebrated interpreter, would have gone on his way and this adventure would end right here.

"Up and down the tracks were camped the noble red men and their wives. Some of 'em had brought their tents, and there was a smell of breakfast in the air. A bunch of cowboys rode whooping down the road, and all that was needed to complete the Wild West show was a stage-coach and a band of bandits.

"I,' says the first gent on the platform, 'am William Burkett, and this is Jim Powers, and this Chief One Eye -we're the committee. We want to do what's right.'

"I give a look at Chief One Eye. He was a tall, brown man, dressed in a blue flannel shirt and overalls. He was smoking a black cigar, and his face was screwed up. He wasn't my idea of an Indian chief, but I'll bet he could steal horses fine.

'Chief One Eye knows all the Indian dialects from Cheyenne to Brule,' explains William Burkett, 'and he thought he'd have a little chat with the Onadekas. Give the interpreter a try out, Chief.'

"And with this the chief fastens his eye on me and rolls off a combination of language that sounds like somebody had put the cylinder containing 'John McCullough's Ravings' backward into the phonograph. After a time he stops and the committee looks at

me:

"He don't savvy,' observes William Burkett to Jim Powers. 'He ain't up on it. Don't you savvy Navajo?' he asks me.

"No I don't,' says I, and then Burkett turns to the chief and says: "Try a little Crow on him, Chief.' And One Eye tries a little Crow on me, and I don't savvy that, nor Blackfeet, nor Ute, nor any of the other samples he hands out. But I am thinking hard all the time.

"'See here,' says I, as One Eye looks suspicious, 'I am no Indian linguist like our friend here. I don't know all this, I only know Onadeka -can't he talk Onadeka?' It was the best bluff I ever made. One Eye couldn't talk Onadeka, nor had he ever heard of it. I rattled off a few bars of the pigeon English-Miss Sadie Delarey had taught me, and old One Eye shook his head. I had him. He didn't savvy either. But William Burkett was there with his curiosity. 'Say,' he asks, 'where do the Onadekas have their reservation?'

Ranger, and what with having to hand out a few fables every now and then about the Onadeka Indians, and being introduced to everybody from the mayor to the constable, it was a merry morning, and the golden hours flew before I began to realize that the performance was about due to open and that I hadn't said 'Gimme a cigar this time' as often as I might. But that remark of Miss Sadie Delarey's was still rankling, and I'd think every now and then how the three Onadekas had copped off my roll and got me into the trouble anyway, and I'd feel raw. When William Burkett and Jim Powers and Chief One Eye and I got on the bus in front of the hotel and started for the car I wasn't in the best frame of mind ever.

"The Squaws came out in single file, while the real things crowded up to watch 'em and babbled after 'em and seemed more or less sore over the whole proposition. With the committee, I was on top of the bus, and when Miss Sadie Delarey followed the last Onadeka into the carriage she looked up at me, and I could see she would like to express herself concerning the condition of myself and the other gentlemen. We bowled along to the ball park with the

attachment to the Occidental bar, I could see that she was not getting her customary support. The little trio that had played cards with me was all to the bad and piling up errors that would give Christy Mathewson or Nick Altrock a pain in the conscience. First, Evening Star would let a sure thing get through her fingers at third, and then, in trying to back her up, Singing Snowbird would come cantering in from the field, grab the ball, and shy it three feet over the head of Rippling Water at first. This happened three times running, and the Navajos scored on every error. But the worst happened in the seventh, when Standing Bear, the captain of the Real Thing Indians, finally landed on Sadie Delarey for a two-base hit, and this put her so far up in the air that she passed the next two men. Here were the bases full and nobody out, and Miss Mazie Magoon hopping about the infield and only keeping her mouth shut by her marvelous self-control. Well, here it happened. The next batter up was Lone Crow, their second sacker. He lifted a high pop over toward my little friend Wind-of-the-Prairie. It came down right into her mit, the easiest proposition ever-and she dropped it. The ball rolled out into the field, and the Navajos went hastily around the diamond until it

"Oh, they're Hudson Bay Indians,' says I. 'They're highly civilized. The Onadekas believe in equal rights -that's how I came to get this bunch of squaws to leave. They are ladies,' says I, looking One Eye in his solitary optic, 'and just now they're making their toilettes du matin and can't receive visitors. They'll be ready when the bus calls.'

'One Eye grunted, but I see that that toilettes du matin settled the committee, and William Burkett says: 'Well, let's go over to town and take a drink.' And as I see something has to be done with the committee I beg their pardon while I step back in the car to get my hat. The Squaws were priming for the afternoon, and I relate to Miss Sadie Delarey just what occurred. 'I am afraid the Indians are suspicious,' I says, 'and if you take my advice you'll play this game in double quick time and hike for the train. I'll leave an order to have the car backed down to the depot to be shoved right onto the five-five the minute it gets in.' But Miss Sadie Delarey didn't seem fazed a bit. 'All I ask of you,' she says somewhat coldly, 'is to keep sober.' And with that shot she turns to combing out her Indian wig and declaring to Miss Mazie Magoon that after all one man is like another.

"I got my hat and went out with my feelings hurt, and I was thinking it over and champing about it when I joined the committee and we walked down the track to the Occidental Palace saloon. There we lined up at the bar. They have free and easy ways at

whole Navajo reservation trailing after us and with William Burkett arising and whooping every time we turned a corner and anon shooting off his revolver. And something told me that the Onadeka Squaws did not appreciate this.

"I speak of the events of the afternoon as one who, looking into the past, finds that his mental camera does not take all the details. It was a different crowd from any we had played to. Most of the grand-stand seats seemed to have been taken by cowboys and sheep herders. Over beyond first base the bleachers were filled with the Indians. They were hunched up in long

rows.

When the Onadeka Squaws went to warm up, the bleacher crowd got up and began to talk to itself. But the Indians were not noisy. All the noise that was necessary came from the grand stand, especially when Floating Fawn walked into the box for the Squaws and put one square over the plate for the first Navajo up. He struck at it and two more like it, and the cowboys howled and took shots at the top of the stand, while the mayor of Ranger pranced up and down and commanded them to keep the peace. But what was the use?

"Miss Sadie Delarey was in fine form that afternoon -the best form I'd ever seen her in for the first six innings-and it was a case of the braves whiffing the air about two an inning and returning to the bench to talk it over and try to fix up a scheme to get onto her curves. And, for that matter, I think if she could have played all nine positions things would have turned out different. But even with my wooze, caused by the

was discovered that Lone Crow had cleared the bases and made a home run on a bum error. But that was not all. As Lone Crow went fleeting on his way he ran into Miss Mazie Magoon and spiked her left foot.

"Right here Miss Magoon tore loose and talked New York.

"You great big, awkward, pigfooted slob,' says she,. following Lone Crow down to third and then on home, 'you unspeakable brute; I've a notion to hand you one in your ugly face,' and with that, while Miss Sadie Delarey looks on horrified, she lets fly at the son of the prairie and then takes him by one ear and twists him around until he writhes with pain. He was very much astonished. Up to that time the Navajo Reds had been going ahead minding their business in stolid Indian fashion and taking advantage of the Squaws' errors, but they had shown no feeling. This attack on their noble brother settled it. They started toward the plate, and the Onadeka Squaws came in to meet them. The cowboys turned loose their guns, and right there came the riot. And me? Me?-Pork Skiddings, the little in erpreter and the Simple Fool? Pork rushes to the thick of the fray, thinking to rescue Miss Mazie Magoon, and gets to her only to have her turn on him and say: 'And if it wasn't for you it wouldn't have happened. If you hadn't of kept those ladies up half the night these errors wouldn't have been made. I must say it is a fine reward for Miss Sadie Delarey's kindness to you, and she as fine a lady as ever ran a baseball club. And even now, you brute, I can see that you have been drinking.'

"As I staggered beneath this I heard a yell and then saw Miss Mazie Magoon's fake hair seized by the Navajo catcher, and pretty soon there were screams and Lone Crow was wandering up and down with Rippling Water's wig at the top of his bat. All the time the mix-up at the plate was getting worse, and Miss Sadie Delarey was laying about her with her good left arm, sending Navajo braves to the dust and calling on the police to stop the outrage. Right in the middle of this, however, she seemed to find time to stop and grab me and demand the receipts, which I was carrying around in my right hand, done up in a buckskin wallet. 'If you'd been tending to your business'-she hissed at me as she grabbed the proceeds and knocked down her fourth Navajo with a left jolt to the stomach-but I didn't catch the rest. I got in the way of somebody's fist, and the whole horrible picture was blotted out."

PORK SKIDDINGS looked around at the gaudy

adornments of the restaurant. He seemed to be lost in thought, and Matty Marsh respected his silence for five minutes before he asked:

"But the end-after that?"

"That," said Mr. Skiddings, "is indeed the end. That is where the curtain falls. I learned afterward that the Onadeka Squaws fought their way to the bus and made the five-five train. With that they passed out of my life. The people at the hospital were kind to me-but, say, New Mexico is a long way from Clark Street. I don't believe I ever had so much trouble working my way back home-no, sir, not even when the Tiger Lily burlesque troupe went to pieces in old Mexico when I was the leading comedian. 1 suppose I have a suit for damages against Miss Salie Delarey, but, as I said, with a woman and a jury-what's the use?"