Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1889-10-19
TOM THE "STAR" BOY.

Rocky mountains 10 broken by the murmuring
sounds OF busy life which rise from beautiful
little town grown up suddenly on one Of those
smooth. green land bays which indent the
rugged base Of the great range.
youth of some eighteen summers il DASH
ing into town behind lean pair Of bronchos,
clean-hoofed and well-groomed hitched to Q
box-ftted blackboard wagon. The box is full
OF potatoes-those long white tubers which
grow only in Colorado soil, the sandstone wash
OF the mountains. But potatoes are not all the
drivers load, for he draws up before shaded
cottage, halts jumps down, and with an air Of
importance begins rolling ont dozen big
watermelons, dark green as the distant sea,
and one, burst open from very perfection Of
sweetness, shows q crimson center that might
rival Jacqueminot rose. - f'l'
You know at glance that the boy is Colo
RADIO ranchman-every sign about him speaks
his calling. He is dressed in a brave new suit
Of stiff hickory with big horn buttons, and has
on long slashed leather leggins, such as Buff
falo Bills cowboys wear. A spike of shining
blue penstamon is fastened in the buttonhole of
his Norfolk jacket, his heavy reddish-colored
boots are fragrant Of crushed sage bush, and
he brings with him all the fresh, spicy odors of
the plains.
The boy has driven down from ''the divide"
eighteen miles, skirting the foot hills, past the
grim rock forms of Monument Park, past Glen
Eyrie, where long ago bald eagles loved to build;
the Garden Of the Gods where gray wolves still
sometimes prowl and over the breezy mesa
road to the town. He has not minded the long,
shadeless drive, but rather enjoyed every step
OF it, and whistled merry tune at thought of
the end.
Those are the drivers own bronchos, that is
MS DUCK board; he has earned the brave ranch
clothes he wears with such iaunty ease. A
ranchman's outfit is not complete without
wlde-brimmed, white felt hat, with tassel-the
sombrero of the Mexicans and the Texas rangers
and the lads freckled cheeks do not lack the
shade OF even this final sign and warrant of his
gaining. The young ranchman is proud and
happy lad. Those potatoes are of his own rails
ing, and the melons are the product of his skill
In trade, for on the way to town he has met
another ranchman coming up from Rocky Ford
with wagon full of melons, and to give a hand
somer look to his own load the lad has ex-
changed bushel of potatoes for the luscious
frut. He Is now bringing them for gift to
some ladies, to whom he owes all his good luck,
as he believes, though the ladies themselves
think otherwise
!, To one who knows his story it is no wonder
tnat this young ranchmans wide, low-crowned
sombrer0 hides bushes of honest pride as he
unloads the potatoes and rolls out the melons.
Inc nat seems almost as broad as the boy is
long, for he is still and perhaps always will be
a little fellow.
What a mite he was when the ladies' first saw
MIN In Washington; he was just big enough then
TO be a STAR Boy" and had never even heard
OF cowboy or ranch. Indeed the ladies might
never have seen him at all had not hoarse,
childish voice piped so persistenty in their ears
"tlaze, would yez lind me foive cints?" The
voice came, apparently, from bundle of tat
tered yelveteen, standing in a shabby pair Of
mems boots, and topped by an old basin-shaped,
SOFT felt hat, big enough for some burly carter,
whlie Two eager, Irish blue eyes peered from
under the crooked brim.
1t Was one Of those rare January days in
Washington when the elements seem to conspire
with the croakers to make folks pay" for the
loneliness OF the past autumn days and early
winter time. Bitterly cold, six inches of snow
turned to muddy slush, with a northeast wind
driving freezing sleet, gave a slippery, treach-
erous surface everywhere.
Common humanity made the ladies stop and
Drace their umbrellas against the wind to ask
the shlvering STAR Boy his name, where he
lived, and how his mother could let him run
about selling STARS on such a day.
Thin me name Is Thomas Muldoon," said
the little chap briskly. Il live in 2Sd street,
down by the river" and, with a fall in his
voice, Il have no mothers" then again, this
time piaintively, would yez koindly be afther
first STHARs, and mare a clint to bouy a new
stock wild; indeed, thin, I'll pay yez back every
penny II yez will?''
u, The first part Of his answer rather startled
the ladies'. They questioned if there could pos
sibly be human habitation on that CLAW hank
by the river, or in the mud hole below the OBJ
servatory, as the boy represented. But Tom
SAID firmly, Eyes, you bet there is" when aues-
toned more closely. "Yez may 60 and see for
yersiiyes the last house, at the foot of 23d
mt LIN
father and mother are both dead. I live
alone with me brother Patsey-he is fifteen,
I'm nine. Patsey was 'prenticed to q plasterer,
but now he's lost his place. I've earned my
own Twin since / was foive by Starring it.
Times has been hard; before Congress came to
Washington there was poor sale for papers.
NOW that Congress is come 1 kin do heaps
better! Butch, am, must have foiye
cents, or lose good chance;' this with almost
a sob, and an anxious eye to business, as he
caught the shrili cry, 'STAH, yah! second edi-
luck.
The ladies Of course gave The STAR Bow the
nve cents, and feeling drawn to the pale, gaunt
little man, SO eager about his chance" also
gave him their address, telling him to come and
1t was too bad day to make further INQUIRIES
about the forlorn child and the ladies were in
lair way to forget him, well used as they were
to the wiles OF the sharp little Washington
neWSDOyS; Dut ION was not 80 used to kind
words and Invitations" however, that he for
got them easily.
That same day, later, the ladies were gathered
round the shaded lamp in their cosy library
reading the news in The EVENING STAR. The
fireplace was piled high with fragrant Florida
lightwood blazing its fiery heart out and filling
the room with a warmth and radiance 80 like
to midsummer's sunshine that it was hard to
realize winter storm flashing bare trees and
blocking dreary streets without
A little King Charles spaniel sat toasting her
toes by the shining blaze. She had drawn her
black curls all up close around her, and crossed
her graceful tan-colored paws on the fender.
resting her head and silky, dropping ears
against them, as little duchess might lean her
cheek and flowing ringlets upon an eight-but-
toned giant de Sueded hand. 'Piccina" was
in her most reserved and dreamy mood: no one
seeing her big soft eyes, blinking mildly at the
freight, would fancy the fury she could turn
into at sight Of beggar or a tramp. At such
times the small spaniels aversions were 80
plainly shown, and so rudely expressed, as to
have gained for the plumed Piccina the homely
name OF Susan Barker" But she was the
gentle, courteous Piccina now, and all was
hushed in the library save the CHEEKY crackle
OF the blazing pine and the genial rustic OF The
EVENING STAR.
Presently strange, dumping footstep on the
| stair landing made Piccina lift her long ears
and q timid knock at the door caused her to
start, uncross her paws and listen.
In answer to a cheerful "Come in" from the