Evening times-Republican. [volume] (Marshalltown, Iowa) 1890-1923, 1903-04-17
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) CRIME OF
; THE TRAMP
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By Leo Crane
Copyright, 1908. by McClure's
Newspaper Syndicate
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It stood upon the banks of a gentle
| river, a fishing village Of great modes
| ty The morning sun would toss its
beauties out upon the waters of mild
lagoon. The roadways were of shells
| the whitest. Old fashioned cottages
| lined the streets, their porches fes-
| TONED with climbing roses whose
sweet scent welded the lavish peri
| fume of wandering honeysuckle and
set forth to meet the fresh smell of the
| bay.
| Upon the shore was little shipyard
all covered with chips and darkened
driftwood. Rotting ways bathed their
| feet in the greenish water, and about
them played the children they had Civ
en- birth, a myriad Of small boats upon
the sleeping waves. One of these be-
longed to higher caste than the 9th
ers. There was a clean coat upon it,
and proudly it rode to a well made
mooring. When the breeze would
swing it slowly, the old man seated
upon last stretch Of the ways could
read its name.
"Maryv' he commented slowly, re-
moving the pipe from his mouth and
putting out cloud of grayish smoke.
Then, turning to man close by, he
asked:
"D'ye s'pose why it's named Maryy
"He's sweet on Mary Harte," said
the other without displaying bit of
interest in anything save the chip he
was whiting.
"Ohw remarked the old one, grinning
to himself and sticking the pipe back
into his mouth, proving bit of senti-
ment could not lure him from the hab-
1t. "Ycre he comes now"
Hes got his oars along" said the
| other, looking across the quiet space
of water. "D'ye spose he's goin' out?"
Reckon So but faint lookin' much
out there on the bay. Gittin' a pesky
fog up, I'm thinkin'" And the old man
grunted at the foolishness Of it. "Why
in thunder don't he stay at home for
onct? o. late he's out on that stream
most O his time"
"S'pose he wants to git married, sug-
gested the companion, cutting a large
section of the chip with contemptu-
GUS flourish of the knife. He's an
other one o. these DANCED fules. But
these youngsters won't listen to no rea-
son. There's that Teller breakin' his
back summer an winter, sunshine an
bad weather, come better or worse, all
SOS he can scrape enough together to
buy peck o. trouble"
II can't understand it, said the old
man, smoking up on his pipe.
.'Well, can see through it In way"
admitted the whittier meditatively,
"'cause when | was young an neces-
sarily foolish had the same thing in
mind fer quite a spell. But Hank Jor-
dan-ye know Hank--well, he gotter
ahead o. me an married the woman.
Then says to myself, 'I'll see what's
in this game says l. So, by jung, Hank
starts in to make Twin fer family
o. two, me havin' quiet, peaceable
time all the while, but fore he was
through he was worlsin' like a pillow
horse in muddy furrow, tryin' to
swim with six kids store bills on his
back. The on'y things had to owe fer
durin' that same space O time was my
terbacker an one shirt, cause, We know,
Pm not hard on clothes. But Hank
Jordan bought enough clothes to cover
regiment. an while they'd be shown
'em in the street Hank'd be sittin' in
the back yard, with bit O chalk an
board, tryin' to figger out how to
stave off the rent. l never could see
the sense O. it. In the las nine years
I've only had the chilblains an the
quinsy, but Hank Jordan had every
thing from mumps to milk rash-not
him, We know, but them as he was
mainly responsible fer"
The man across the way tossed
pair of oyster tongs down into the
clean boat and whistled for ragged
looking dog playing about the towns
edge. Then, with it beside him at the
tiller. he ran up the small sail and
steered out into the mist of the river
marshes An hours run brought him
over the lodges where with q sounding
splash the stone anchor was dropped,
and down. down, down, went the hum
CRY tongs for the first clutch. Down
on the sandy lodges he hoped to find
his happiness and wrench it from the
bottom. There was scssorslike mo-
ton of the long arms, a twisting, tear
ing, sucking grapple of the teeth; then
up, up, up, came the swaying poles, the
water trucking back over the hands
that hauled, and with noisy clatter
the catch Of grimy things was dumped
into the boats bottom, and so on
through the long day, sometimes star
ing stupidity out over the gray shifting
desert at a passing steamer slowly
plodding up the channel or eying in
silent wonder n yacht sweeping silent
ly and swiftly by his little craft.
1t was in the afternoon. The boat
was half filed with muddy shells.
"Lemme see, Regs," said the man.
whats the date terday? The 10th?
So it is. 'Tain't agoin' to be very long
now, Regs." He slowly counted
number of deep scratches upon the
thwart Some Of them were crossed
over with counter scratch. There
were nine not tailed. He got out a
knife and rudely crossed another.
Eight more days to wait" he mutter-
ed-"eight more days"
"Then won't there be fine time,