The Savannah morning news. (Savannah, Ga.) 1900-current, 1901-11-19
Our Daily Short Stories
BY EDGAR wELToN COOLEY.
tcopyright. 1901. by Authors syndicate,

Collins blew into the Banner Office
one bleak day in March. The sudden
gust of wind which pushed open the
door as he was about to place his hand
upon the latch scattered clippings, copy
and exchanges promiscuously about the
room.
"D-n it," exclaimed Britton.
Britton was proprietor, editor, ad.
man, circulator, business manager and
foreman of the Banner and was much
given to profanity.
On it," he repeated with vehe-
nlence, glancing up from amid the de-
vastation and catching sight of Collins
on the threshold. CLOSE the door,
Collins obeyed. He was attired from
head to foot in clothes a world too
large for hinn-evidently some one
elses cast-off garments. His unkempt
hair was sprinkled with gray; his red
face showed unmistakable marks of
dissipation. In his eyes was melan-
choly glimmer
He advanced confidently into the
room, extending a grimy hand in which
was rusty ten-penny nail.
Sir he said, should I chance to
happen along when some one was in
desperate and immediate need of a nail,
doubtless 1 could get so cents for this
one. for it is as good an article as is
made. But, sir, the kindness, the ben
evidence that shine in your face, i'm
pels me to offer it at a sacrifice. You
can have it, sir, for one dime, ten
cents"
Britton laughed in spite of himself.
Il am not in need of nails" he re-
Piled. But / do want a printer Are
you printer"
Thus Collins began work upon the
Banner. No better compositor ever held
down case. His strings were long; his
case clean; his proofs excellent. Brit
tor was exultant. for good printers
were scarce in Blairstown.
But his JOY was short lived, for on
Saturday evening Collins cashed his
string, and by midnight was hilari-
ously drunk. Monday morning he was
escorted into the presence of a magis-
trate and pleaded guilty.
Thirty days." said his honor.
Thank you, sir" replied Collins.
You have saved my reputation. sir.
me
twenty or even fifteen days. That
would have ruined me. Sir, from Chi
cago to Omaha I am known as Thirty
Collins in honor of the numerous pc
riods of thirty days each in which I
have done penance. Again l thank you.
Officer. lead; follow
After his release from Jail he drop
ped into the Banner office to bid US
good-by."
Look here" said Britton, Don't go
away. Thirty. Stay here, brace up,
good wages
Sir" he said, with stately bow,
Il thank you, but 1 cannot tarry.
Westward the star of empire takes its
way. 1t leads; Thirty Collins follows.
So long!"
In January he was back again.
Thinly clad, hungry and desolate, he
stumbled into the Office.
Want any nails?" he asked. Can
sell you one to-day for a nickel, five
cents"
By the way of reply Britton handed
him a take"
Here. Thirty" he said. "go to
work"
The morning had been stormy: the
afternoon was bitterly cold. Local
news was scarce and the press dis
patches were. for the most part, con-
fined to snow blockades and the havoc
wrought by frost and blizzard in the
north and west. By two o'clock the
dispatches were few and far between
and by three, a half hour before the
time to go to press, thirty was on
the hook.
Collins got the last take He
placed it on his case without glancing
at it, and turning to where his coat
hung on the wall beside him, took
from pocket a sack of tobacco. Fill
ing his pipe, he struck a match and lit
it. Then, picking up his stick, he be-
gan reading his copy.
Before he had read half a dozen
lines. however, the stick dropped from
his fingers and the pipe from his
his eyes and leaned for a moment
heavily against his case, his face
ashen.
Britton. making up the forms at
the stone, saw him reel and FASTENED
to his side.
What's the matter, old MANI" he
asked, anxiously. "Sick?'
Collins laughed hoarsely. picked up
his stick and turned resolutely to his
case
That pipes too strong for me. I
guess" he said. But I'm all right
now"
The copy before him was a special
from a neighboring town narrating
the finding Of the body of an I'M
known woman, who had evidently
died of hunger and cold in an old
building on an abandoned farm.
She has jet black hair, hanging in
ringlets around her throat" the mes
sage read "She was young-not over
IS. Her eyes are blue and there is a
certain sweetness in her face--a sweet
ness that was not entirely obliterated
by the harsh hand of misery and want
which surrounded her last hours. A
heavy gold ring, the only article of
Ina fn,,v,I ,tnn,1 har rarSn0 contains