I, THE KING I
By WAY LAND WELLS WILLIAMS.
(Copyright. 1924.)
|
(Continu'd from Yesterday.)
For eleven years the Resident and
the sgent had lived here, supreme.
There had been no other white men
on the Islands, not a missionary, not
e\«n a servant. A Lutheran mission
ary had christianized the place in
one feverish half-year and then, as
whs the custom in the obscurer
islands, installed a Samoan pastor
over the flock, the man Aitakl. For
tunately for the islanders, the tem
pers of the two white men were tol
erably good, for their rule was essen
tially the rule of the Luger. They
summarily shot those who irritated
them, but left the others, with their
land and their laws and their cus
toms. alone. They also prevented
traffic In liquor, and kept the natives
from quarreling too much among
themselves. The Resident 'sat in his
concrete office, dispensed a casual jus
tice in legal affairs, and drank rum.
The trader sat In his own little com
pound nearby, distributed cheap
printed calico, fish hooks and tobacco
in return for copra, and drank rum.
jh the evening they would meet in
one or the other of their houses,
play cards, drink rum and generally
part with their hands on their hol
stprs; but the next evening would And
them together again.
it was in Kit, when he learned
something of the life of these two. to
fret a certain sympathy for them. Not
only were they alone, as isolated as
himself and Masson, but they were
responsible for order. Order Is a thing
the Mlcronestan lias little desire for,
and the white men must have lived in
the perpetual knowledge that it was,
in the last instance, a matter of two
Lugers against a whole population.
But from the moment the war came
Kit ceased to pity them. It seems
that they knew nothing of it for near
ly a year; the semi-annual copra boat
simply did nul arrive. Doubtless they
guessed, doubtless they cursed the
vaunted German Navy; at all events,
when In June, 1915, a Dutch barque
put into the lagoon, they packed up
and left. They were not going to
wait and he captured by Japanese or
•schwelnfleisch Knglander;” a safe
passage homo, via Java and Rotter
dam. for them. They were the last
Germans to remain free in the Paclflc,
as It was.
But it would have been glorious to
stay. Kit did not see what he could
possibly have done, in their places,
but stay. The enemy might never
come, and if they did, it was all in
the day's work. An arming of the
natives, a brave hopeless fight, or at
least some honorable resistance; at
the very worst a splendid death for
King and country. No, they were
quitters," those two, quitters pure and
simple. But he thanked the Provi
4knce that had made them so.
- - — ' H.
r
New York
--Day by Day
_—-J
By O. O. M’INTYRJE.
N»w York, Oct. 30—Thoughts
while strolling around New Y'ork:
An undertaking parlor advertises “A
Gold Room '’ Jazz even to funerals.
A famous perfumer in a gray silk
suit. And pink tie. He would. W hy
will people eat watercress?
Gats foraging for swell swill. That
wins the giant gooseberry—a girl
wearing sandals and a fur neckpiece.
Roy Carruthers who guides the des
tinies of the Waldorf. Soon be time
for bonfires. And walks through
drifting autumn leaves.
No more Russian shows on Broad
way. A little art center that swirls
near Times Square. Oriental looking
girls with red lips. Lemon yellow
smocks. Tilted tarns. Pale young
men with drooping cigarets. And
heads bobbed like mediaeval heralds.
And that famous little cafe where
they serve stone bowls of bubbling
onion soup. Swiss cheese on toasteil
buns. A tang to life here. But New
Vork is too rushed to appreciate it.
All the ladies are putting that bril
liant red stain on their nails.
Who started that fad? A cafe
called the Three Aces and another
the Three Kings. French. Bohemian,
Irish and American. A tipsy rowdy
haranguing a cop. Girls In white
breeches astride galloping horses. On
their way (o the bridle path.
New shows in rehearsals. Fall
dullness is dying. And there's a new
sparkle to the town. A famous gam
bler from Tiajuana. Once a Forty
second street newsboy. And slumber
ing hills of New Jersey. And the
brilliant ripple of the Hudson.
Avery Hopwood. And Berton
Braley with his always too small
hat- Tourists trying to take kodaks.
A pawnshop without a sign—and
a marble front. Youngsters trudging
to school.
New York's Rialto Is getting ready
for another foreign invasion. In
spired by welcome of the Moscow
Art Players, the Grand Guignol. Yid
dish Ai t theater. Kleonora Duse and
Swedish ballets. Japan is sending Its
Imperial theater from Tokio to Broad
way. Jaded New Yorkers inay get a
thrill out of the classical Kabuki
drama. It has been highly touted.
Actors will be clad in the garments
of old Japana. strangely colffed and
painted in the manner of their an
< eslors. The sound of drums and the
staccato cries of musicians punctuate
the passion of the players and
heighten the dramatic effect. Japan
does not conceal its stage mechanics.
Black cloaked Btage hands creep
about removing properties and plac
ing them. Men actors take women's
parts. Training for the Kabuki
drama begins in early childhood. The
actor sometimes receives, $5,000 a
month. He in many ways represents
the flowery kingdom's highest culture.
Ten magazine writers who left New
York during the past five years to
live In California have returned to
become cliff dwellers again. All claim
they tired of the monotony of sun
shine. But the real truth is they
were too far away from (heir edi
torial markets. Kditors like to dis
cuss stories with writers in personal
talks.
A theatrical producer who pays no
toriously poor salaries wired George
M. Cohan recently:
"Will you come with me next sea
son, George?”
"Why certainly, old man,” Cohan
replied. "Where are you going?”
A little dime musee lias opened on
Tenth avenue, it has a crystal maze
sud some interesting wax figures.
Mso a 10 cent vaudeville show. It
Is run hy a former policeman nnd is
doing a brlHk business.
(Copyright, IMi)
---' ,
V.
As he sat reading Masson lounged
in and slumped into a chair. He
wore his dungarees, which were
filthy; lie had a six-day heard on his
face i lie was no worse than Kit in
that respect); his hair was unbrushed
and contained hits of vegetable mat.
ter. He also, according to his own
announcement, had a head.
"Nigger hooch,” he explained. "God,
what stuff!"
"Who gave it to you?" inquired
Kit.
"Sadie, and her gang."
"Sadie?”
"My girl. Call her that ’cause I
can’t say her damned name. Yep,
they pa 'sed round llie old coco shells,
filled with That .Slnff. You'd ougiita
try It. They was all slngin’ and danc
in’, and in about live minutes I was
too, with the best of 'em. Cripes!
1 don’t know where I slep’, except
that Sadie was there. . . . I,nrd, I'd
give a million dollars for a Camel.”
He spat on the floor, uninterested in
life.
Kit eyed him. without favor. "Don’t
spit in here. Masson. We’ve got to
live here. And you’d better see about
washing those dungarees."
Masson swung his head sideways
and looked at him hatefully from
under ills heavy brows, but said noth
ing. Presently he spat again.
"Don’t do that," said Kit. "You
can spit in your own room, If you
like.’’
"Oh, all right!" He got up and
lumbered to the door, then turned
quickly, scowling. "See here, what’s
the idea of this?"
“What’s what Idea?"
“Oil, this orderin' round. Hell, one
of us is as good as another here, ain't
he?”
"I wasn't ordering yoti round," said
Kit, lowering his book. "I was telling
you not to spit in the sitting room,
exactly as I’d tell any one not to,
If he did."
"Oh, all right," growled Masson,
turning again.
“Wait a minute. We may as well
get this straight, while we’re about
it. As you say, we're equals ns long
as we're on this island. We can for
get the Navy. On the other hand,
we're not going tn forget common de
cency. I shall treat you exactly as
I’d treat any one else under these
conditions, and I expect you to treat
me the same way."
"Then what to hell's the idea of
your ordering me round like you did
now—yes, you did. order! Hey?"
Kit smiled, and wiggled one foot.
"I’m sorry If T seemed to order you.
1 only meant it as a suggestion. I'm
going to wash my clothes, and 1 ad
vise you to do the same."
Masson paused. He spat once
more, but at the last moment directed
the missile Into the hallway. "Sadle'l!
do It," he said, and went out.
After lunch, punctually extracted
by Etera from nowhere (or more
exactly, from the maternal cook
house), Masson’s temper and head im
proved. "Say.” he vouchsafed, after
some vain expressions of desire for
a cigaret, "there’s a war on this
island. Or has been. The niggers
Is quite het up about It.”
"War?" said Kit, interested. "Who
w'lth?"
"Why, there’s another island near
here somewheres. They hate these
fellas. They come over and burn
their houses."
"Why do they hate them?”
"Search me. There’s a guy called
Kak—something, was fellin’ me about
it. He speaks English, almost. Say,
ain’t It hell the way they talk Eng
lish on a German island?’’
Kit agreed, having wondered about
it himself. "Well, what did Kale say?"
"He ast me what I thought you’d
think about it. I says, ‘Go and ask
him.’ You see, they think we rnay
be of some u«e to ’em. I don’t know;
as far’s I can make out thpre s some
German guns and ammunition some- ■
where round, hidden. They think it
would, be nice if we could lead ’em to
it. and help ’em shoot them other
guys up.”
“Search me. They're a wild panp
Well, guess I’ll turn in for a bit. Too
damned hot to do nnythinp. If Sadie
comes, tell her to wait till I wake
up. will you?"
Kit sat in the silent heat of the
noon hour, thinking hard Behind the
Resldenz, in a earner of the stock
ade, he had noticed what Masson
probably had not. a smaller stockade
surrounding a little erection of con
crete. This was shaped like a stair
entrance into a cellar, and had an
Iron door fastened with two padlocks
on hasps. He had examined these
latter- they were intact, but bore
marks as of pounding with hea\ \
stones. rrlns must be the arsenal:
the natives knew It and had tried
to get in. but failed. A file would
have done the trick for them. Then
there must be no file on the island.
Yes, there was. just one. In the
tool box of the dory.
He rose and tiptoed out. w-lth one
glance at the snoring Masson, lie
Inspected the arsenal entrance, and
found it exactly as he had last seen
It. He walked on through t** blind
ing heat, out of the stockade, through
the village, to the lagoon landing.
It was a foolish hope, no doubt.
The Mlcroncsians arc notoriously
thieving an<1 inquisitive, and they
would almost certainly have broken
open the tool box, if they had not
abstracted the lile before he locked it
But he found the box intact, and on
opening it . hp(M,Vprf*fl the tools
there. Including the lile.
He put it in his pocket, relocked
the box and walked back, his eyes on
the ground, lie was fully aware of
the Immense importance of that file
Whoever held it. held the reins of
power in these two islands. A bit of
steel, seven inches long.
At the door of the Resident he
stopped «nd looked quickly shout. No
one In sight except Ktera, asleep In
the hallway; no sound but the rustle
of surf and the hot breath of noon
in the palm fronds. He lowered his
eyes and scraped the ground with
his foot. It was light and sandy.
gray, with a shading of brown from
rotted vegetation, He went to the
least frequented side of the Resident,
noted a particularly large coral block
in the foundation and just under this
dug a hole a few inches deep, using
the file Itself. At the bottom of this
he placed the file, scraped the earth
fur;- l! and stamped it dean.
then went tn hi* ow n room tool^H
his dm he* and slept.
do Ilf < onlinurd Tomorrow.) ^B
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That Guiltiest Feeling
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IIP PATUPP see jiggs and maggie in full Drawn for The Omaha Bee by Mcl
DlxIIlUtllU V/I r rt I IlLilX U. S. Patent Office PAGE OF COLORS IN THE SUNDAY BEE (Copyright 1021)
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PaOA. A lift MAMA' AiiA
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ABIE THE AGENT
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W/'TH A DRESS SUIT
And teilcmj shoesv
9