The Mankato free press. [volume] (Mankato, Blue Earth County, Minn.) 1879-1924, 1903-06-19

festooning in front of a pure pale tur,
QuOise sky" He began to walk up and
down. "And yet, you know, if you try
to give these people the thing as God
gave it keyed down to their comprehen.
sion and according to the powers he
has given your
/ Modest man. Go on
"Half a dozen epicene young pagans
who haven't even been to Algiers will
tell you, first, that your notion is Dor
rowed and, secondly, that it isn't art
"This comes of my leaving town fol-
a month Dickie, you've been prone
nading among the toyshops and hear
ing people talk
81 couldn't help it," said Dick peni-
tently. You weren't here, and it was
lonely these long evenings. A man can't
work forever"
"a man might have gone to pub
and got decently drunk"
81 wish l had, but l foregathered
with some men of sorts. They said
they were artists, and knew some Of
them could draw, but they wouldn't
draw They gave me tea-tea at in
the afternoon!-and talked about art
and the state of their souls, as if their
souls mattered. I've heard more about
art and seen less of her in the last six
months than in the whole of my life.
Do you remember Cassavetti, who
worked for some continental syndicate
out with the desert column? He was a
| regular Christmas tree of contraptions
when he took the field in full fig, with
| his water bottle. lanyard, revolver,
writing case, housewife, gig lamps and
the Lord knows what all. He used to
| fiddle about with 'em and show us how
they worked, but he never seemed to
do much except fudge his reports from
the Nilghai. See"
Dear old Nilghai, He's in town, fat
ter than ever. He ought to be up here
this evening. l see the comparison per-
| fectly. You should have kept clear Of
| all that man millinery. Serves you
right, and hope it will unsettle your
| mind"
sit won't. 1t has taught me what art
holy, sacred art-means."
! you've learned something while I've
| been away. What is art?'
"Give 'em what you know, and when
you've done it once do it again." Dick
dragged forward a canvas laid face to
| the wall Here's a sample of real art.
| It's going to be a facsimile reproduc-
don for a weekly. l called 1t His Last
| Shot It's worked up from the little
water color made outside Ell Maghrib.
| Well, l lured my model, beautiful
| rifieman, up here with drink. l drored
| him, and l redrored him, and / ire
disheveled, bedeviled scalawag, with
his helmet at the back of his head and
the living fear of death in his eye and
| the blood oozing out Of cut over his
ankle bone. He wasn't pretty, but he
was all soldier and very much man."
"Once more, modest childp'
| Dick laughed. well, it's only to you
I'm talking. l did him just as well as
knew how, making allowance for the
sickness of oils. Then the art manager
Of that abandoned paper said that his
subscribers wouldn't like it. 1t was
brutal and coarse and violent-man be-
ing naturally gentle when he's fighting
/ for his life. They wanted something
more restful, with a little more color.
I could have said good deal, but you
might as well talk to a sheep as an art
manager. | took my Last Shot back.
Behold the result! | put him into
lovely red coat without a speck on it.
That's art. l polished his boots. OBJ
serve the high light on the toe. That's
art. l cleaned his rifle-rifles are al
ways clean on seryice-because that is
art. l pipeclayed his helmet. Pipeclay
Is always used on active service and is
Indispensable to art. l shaved his chin,
washed his hands and gave him an
! air of fatted peace. Result, military
tailor's pattern plate. Price, thank
heaven, twice as much as for the first.
which was moderately decent"
"And do you suppose you're going to
give that thing out as your work.
"Why not? l did it. Alone did it in
the interests of sacred, home bred art
and Dickenson's Weekly"
Torpenhow smoked in silence for
awhile. Then came the verdict, deliv-
cred from rolling clouds: eff you were
only mass Of blathering vanity, Dick
I wouldn't mind. I'd let you go to the
deuce on your own mahlstick. But
when I consider what you are to me,
and when / find that to vanity you add
the twopenny halfpenny pique of a
twelve-year-old girl, then l bestir my
| calf IN, vo11r hobo1f Tb,,cu,
The canvas ripped as Torpenhow's
booted foot shot through it, and the
f, terrier jumped down, thinking rats
were about.
IF you have any bad language to
use. use 1t. You have not. l continue
| You are an idiot, because no man born
OF woman is strong enough to take lib
critics with his public, even though the,
be, which they amt, all you say they
are"
"But they don't know any better
| What can you expect from creatures
bncn and bred in this light?" Dick
| pointed to the yellow fog. IF they
want furniture polish, let them have
furniture polish SO long as they pay
/; for it. They are only men and women
You talk as though they were gods"
! That sounds very fine, but it has
oothing to do with the case. They are
/ the people you have to work for,
whether you like it or not. They are
! your masters. Don't be deceived, Dick.
lie. You aren't strong enough to trifia
with them, or with yourself, which is
/ more important. Moreover-come back
Rinkie-that red dauh isn't poino INV.