The Saint Paul globe. (St. Paul, Minn.) 1896-1905, 1901-06-16

Give US tune, Jacky!" Lets go ard
cheer up old Gordon" said a voice, and
every one assented. Gordon, Charlie
learned, was an invalid In en- advanced
stage of consumption, whose cheerful
ness had made m popular and who had,
pathetically enough, expressed a hope
that his last night on earth might be a
merry one. The whole gathering trooped
into the little smoking room, where Cor
don was ensconced In an armchair.
Jacky, the landlord, broke Into a child
ish song, with a banjo obligato. He had
in his eventful career once been a public
entertainer, but little talent remained ex-
cept an air Of assurance e1d an adroit
handling of his instrument. Song sue
ceeded song until at last burly doctor
in the corner cried, Wont you give
some one else chance, Jacky2" The
artistic temperament was wounded; the
landlord rose, picked up his instrument
and bolted. Eickson volunteered hunt
Ing song. Then there were cries for
"Potgieter," and the ratlike etorekeeper
stood up, Sinking and said, I'm afraid
l can only give you a recitation, gen.
tlemen, and 1 hope you'll tell me when
you've had enough" So saying, he
started one of those melodramatic pieces
erdeared to the suburban drawing room
by spasmodic lady reciters. ST1e had just
come to the description of the cherubic
child, which is inevitable in this kind Of
literature, when sepulchral voice from
the doctors corner whisperea, That's
enough!' But Potgieter was not to be
daunted, and led his yawning audience
to the point where the infant is run over
by his mother on a bicycle. He sat down
amidst storm of applause, broken by a
proposal from the doctor that they should
all toss for drinks.
The room grew noisler. Charlie fcurd
himself beside a dilapidL.sd soldier VINO
n oil hi will ut. It,.
Indian adventures, emphaSiZirg he DO ts
with shaky forehnger
The room was full Of smoke. Three men
were singing at once, and their voices
were hardly audible above the clink of
glasses.
In the corner Gordon lay in his chair,
pallid, fighting for breath
Suddenly report, as of some flrearm.
was heard. What's that?" said the doc
tor. "Oh, expect it's old Isaacs,' sor1e-
one replied, trying to shoot an owl.
There's an owl that comes round his
house but he always sees two owls. and
he's sworn to shoot them both"
The revelry went on. Charles head
began to ache. and the soldiers stories,
which were steadily growing in strength;
made his way to the bedroom Hickson
had for some time vanished from the
smoking room, and Charlie called his
name as he struck a match.
There was no answer, but the splutter-
Ing match revealed Hickson lying On his
bed with is face to the wall. Charlie ap-
preached him, when he suddenly saw
that the sleeping mans hand held a re-
volver. He bent to take the weapon
away, but, as he touched the hand
shiver passed over him. Hastily Charlie
took his candle to look at Hickson 6 face.
but when he saw it he cried aloud End
staggered back.
Two or three Of the jewellers came into
the room Are you two fellows fight
ing?" one Of them asked. But a look at
the figure on the bed told him the truth.
''My Godp' he cried, That was the shot
We keard!'
The landlord came grumbling in Such
an event was bad for his house. he said.
He seemed to be more annoyed than
shocked. Charlie broke away from the
crowd, now sobered, and soon left the
hotel behind. AS he passed he heard
Gordon's racking cough. Soon he was on
the open veldt the distant kopjes looked
grim and threatening in the moonlight.
The harsh note Of the night-locust Jared
on his ear. and far away a jackal was
bowling. The splendor of the Southern
cross over his head seemed to him an
irony of the heavens.
AT early dawn Charlie rode homo. His
Wanderjahr was over.