The Red Cloud chief., 1881-08-11
WHAT HE WANTED TO SEE.
n Story Of the sanetum.

All was still except t~heticking of the
clock above the chief editors desk
which clock, by the way, had never
been known TO keep the right time for
The last five years-and the scratch.
scratch! scratch! of the pens of our tai
cnted and intellectual staff, as said pens
Travelled quickly over the white paper
pages.
Suddenly the door opened.
A Stranger appeared.
1t was a stranger Of the male species.
A mild and apparently innocent stran-
ger, whose clothes, from their general
vaguencss of fit and iDadaptability To
form, seemed to have been made by
some country carpenter.
He OF ened the door softly and OBJ
truded himself in as if he was not quite
certain as to whether or not he had ar
rived at the right place.
"Good-day,' remarked he, with a
smile which seemed TO embrace the
whole Office. even down to the bare
armed and dirty-faced printers devil"
who lay c~omplacentlv sleeping upon a
pile of old exchanges, waiting for
copy" which in his heart of hearts
he wished might never be ready"
Our head editor got up.
Our head editor took ageneral econ
noissance of the stranger as he adj
vanced. 1t was % certa n in our head
editors mind who the stranger was.
he might be n new subscriber; he might
be the advance agent OF a circus; he
might be a Deputy Sheriff; or, worse
than all, he might have a small bill
against one OF our staff.
Therefore our head editor. who is a
born diplomat, adopted a line Of policy
which was entirely -committal.
''How are you?' said he.
The stranger smiled again.
''Well, thank you," was his reply.
'.Arc YOU the editor?:"
Our head editor calculated up the
guestioner, and replied that he was.
This bold avowal was prompted by the
fact that our head editor gathered from
his calculation that, If needful, he could
prove himself the muscular superior of
the stranger, or, in ve%rnacular, slick
him."
The stranger seemed pleased.
''Glad to know YOU" said he; 81
have n favor to ask of You"
A dreadful suspicion occurred to our
head editor. Perhaps the stranger was
some long-lost brother, or some fellow
quill-driver, who desired to borrow
money of him! But the blissful thought
that he did not have any money any
way treasured him.
well, sir" asked he.
The stranger looked around. There
seemed a mystery attending his look.
He did o appear TO be DESTROYS of
being observed.
''Uh," whispered he, al want to see
the blood-stained club
1.-The tchat!!' gasped our head editor.
s'The blood stained club"
'.What are you talking about?"
The stranger pulled out a paper. 1t
was a dirty paper, a paper creased and
folded, and bearing signs of half a hun
dred readings.
He unfolded the paper so that its
heading was visible.
THE Oshkosh Hdr Whoop," read
he. This. believe, is the publica-
ton Office of the Oshkosh Hdr Whoopg'
"Yes, sir" replied our head editor.
"Weil, here is week before lasts
number. In column you say: Yes
tSttsi al SltAI oAl oilttSu Will al
poem called Spring, spring, beautiful
spring.! He was the first of the brood,
and we hope he will be the last. We
brought out the blood stained club, the
club we use for poets. and without a
groan, without a sigh, he sank down
deadr Was not tina: printed in your
paper?"
"Yes, SIR"
"Then. as 1 said before, / want to
see the blood-sta;ned club"
Our head editor laughed. 1t was
not a merry laugh. but a laugh whose
accents of glee seemed but a feeble
mockery.
That's a joke" said he.
"A ioke2" said the stranger, as if
doubling his ears.
"Yes, sir"
"There wasn't any gaunt youth?'
"No. SIR"
No poem"
"No, SIR"
He did not die. the poor poet, with
out a groan or without a sighF"
"No, SIR"
"And, last of all. there was not any
blood-stained club?"
"No, sir"
land, as You say, it is all a joker"
..Yes, sir"
The stranger rcfectively wiped his
brow with a red handkerchief to which
washing seemed to be a vague and in
frequent act.
"Can-can,s he hcsitatingly said,
Il view your graveyard"
.Our grave yard?"' questioningly
ancwared our haad adifor