The Portland daily press. [volume] (Portland, Me.) 1862-1921, 1893-11-27
THE REDHEADED MAN.


yarns.
Everybody had told some wonderful
story of his exploits, except Jack Wilmer,
the athlete, who sat, big and calm and
imperturbable, putting away at his corncoE
pipe.
"Look here, Wilmer,'' said Greer, sthis
won't do. Any fellow that's led the tough
life that you have must have lots of things
to tell. Come, brace up and give us a
story. We want to be amused"
"Never had but one extraordinary adj
venture" said Wilmer, land that was
chiefly remarkable for the way it ended.
You won't like it,
"Come, give it to u.s."
Wilmer took his pipe from his mouth
and stretched out his frame in the chair.
swell, you see,o he said, lit was when
first came to New York. was having
, q pretty hard time of it, without money,
friends or any education to speak of, like
you fellows that have been to college.
There wasn't much that didn't try my
hand at, from porter in hotel to clerk in
big clothing store on Sixth avenue, but
1 gave that up pretty soon-couldn' t stand
fitting clothes on pert little dudes that /
could have carried with one hand. Good
thing got out of it, too, becauseif it had
lasted much longer I should have knocked
some of them down.
s'But while was clerk had a room in
cheap lodging house on the east side,
near Third avenue-Eighth street, think
it was. 1t was on the first floor, the back
room, as stuffy and hot a little hole as you
ever saw, and was there all summer. 1t
L ,,,I
there I used to spend most of my time
when was in the house, trying to get
breath of fresh air, and looking at the
dingy courtyard that belonged also to the
house back of US. on Seventh street. 1t
was like we'll paved with stones; the
children used to play in it and the women
hung out their clothes.
lone awfully hot day in July, about s
o'clock in the afternoon, / was sitting
there in my shirt sleeves, drowsy and sleepy
with the heat. Not having anything else
to do, I had sheet of paper before me, on
which I idly scrubbed, over and over
again, my name, John Wilmer, in my own
peculiar scrawl-that looks like the trail
of fly that has just crawled out of an
inkstand.
81 was very drowsy and mad as hops
with yellow haired woman at window,
who was calling out as she lifted the lid
OF a box that had been hung out Of the
window to serve as a refrigerator:
g Maggie, do you want meto bring the
potatoes too? Maggie, Maggie, why don't
you answer?'
tOn the fire escape of another house two
children were having a fight. My eyes
closed for d moment, when suddenly, in
the quiet, came gust of wind. l looked
up in time to see the paper before me
blown out Of the window across the court
yard to the window in the basement where
a man was sitting. The man picked up
the paper, looked at it carefully for several
minutes, and then, taking piece of paper
from a book, seemed to compare the two,
looking from one to the other with salts
faction. He then put them both back in
the book and sat down again, looking over
at me from Tina to time. He was a big
red haired and red bearded fellow whom
had often seen before at that window, but
I was very curious to know what was his
interest in my handwriting.
"Well, few evenings after that was
taking my dinner at a cheap eating house
on the Bowery 1t was as hot as blazes;
the doors and windows were all open, the
flies coming in and sticking to the butter
and to the pink and blue tissue paper
hangings on the walls. don't now what
they have those things for, unless it is to
keep the flies from feeling homeless. But
there was something that made me feel
uncomfortable aside from this, and didn'.
know what it was until turned around
and saw sitting at another table the same
red bearded man who had been at the
window, and who had been SO much in
,terested in my writing. He was staring
at me enough to bore two gimlet holes
through my back, and that is what had
made me so uncomfortable.
j "sLook here, said, what do you want
with me?'
s'He was all out of breath with the chase
after me.
"sYou are pretty fellow he said,
trimming away SO fast, when I've got
sbig piece of business to offer you. Is your
name John Wilmcr2'
eyes
"tDo you want to make $50 in half an
hour, John Wilmer?'
II had exactly 81 in my pocketbook, and
my weeks rent due.
"sYes, do said; but what's up9
What have got to do?'
"'Never mind about that here Just
come with me-
1--WE went on for several squares, then
turned into Baxter street. The man seem
ed mum sort of a fellow and didn't say
anything. From Baxter street we made
several turns to the right to street totally
unfamiliar to me. There didn't seem to
be any hurry, and as we walked along l
smoked cigar which my mysterious EN-
ployer handed me.
CAT little bakers shop we turned off
into narrow alley dimly lighted. sup
pose it was syarming with people, because
/ could hear them bustling around and
talking. When we came to Il house that
looked empty, the man unlocked the door,
carefully locked it again and went up a
flight of stairs into back room. follow
ing
''All this time we had been cropping
around in the dark, but the man struck a
match and lit II candle Then | saw that
the room was perfectly bare except for a
common wooden chair and a table on
which stood the candle and a leather va
lisc
{" Nov, said the man, sit down there ,
He took some papers out of the valise and
handed he a fountain pen. What want
Won to do ia very sin1pla and won T. tal-f.