The Bossier banner. [volume] (Bellevue, Bossier Parish, La.) 1859-1952, 1905-02-16

most Internal piece Of music have
ever heard, and, furthermore, you are
all wrong"
To this day fail to see what saved
his life, 1t seemed as though child
of mine had been murdered before my
eyes. Williams and Macpherson both
covered him instantly.
"You meaa you're liar" said Will
liams hotly.
go on; say you're liar" echoed
Macpherson. nervously lingering the
trigger.
IF you care to listen to me-" answer
ed MetcaIf with an Indifferent wave
of his hand and a shrug that spoke
volumes for his character, "I'll prove it
! the truth"
Lets give him u chance" broke
in, impelled as much by the anxiety
discover what he meant as the desire
| to avoid blood.
| Without another word Metcalf went
to his saddlebag and drew forth n sort of
flute. which he screwed together.
This is where 1t tripped you by the
heels" he said, nodding to Macpherson
| He then gave an imitation Of Macpher-
sons RIDICULOUS saueaks. This is how
| 1t goes And he played like an angel.
That's the chorus Now the woman
| comes on. She's contralto" And again
the superb sounds that were match for
the morning filled our ears. hint Of
the futillty Of life came as he reached the
| cadence. My throat was full l was
tempted to speak. to cry aloud. when a
tenor note rang out clear and strong.
transporting US to a truer better world.
He played this part twice over and finish
ed with a dying fall that was as sweet as
sleep after nights Of pain.
Perhaps 1t was a minute. perhaps It was
an hour. before any one spoke. Time and
space were eliminated from our conscious
ness. Juan. the Mexican. q CLINT of rever-
ence In his eye. had edged close to the
player. Macpherson sighed and turned
away. Even Williams the bullet head of
the outfit. was visbly affected
Gentlemen" said Metcalf calmly un-
screwtng the inspired instrument and
stufflng 1t into his saddlebag. that proves
one-half Of my contention: the other half
can be as easily proved"
Macpherson plucked nervously at his
tuft Of a beard and In his blunt, homes,
fashion said, II thought that was my
own tune"
Il thought It was mine" remarked VIII
Hams. and there was In the sliding inflec-
ton Of the last word the suggestion of 9
man always sure Of himself discovering G
hole in his armor.
II had dreams Of developing into q great
composer on the strength Of it, I con
fessed. and. try as l might, l could not
repress a sigh. Juan echoed the sigh anC
turned quietly away.
Metcalf seemed to be obfivious Of hi:
triumph. The Indifference that was In hi:
eyes when he looked down the muzzles O.
the revolvers still fingered You are al
wrong" he finally began "A man o
whom you know nothing wrote It. Their
was a time when the music stood we'll II
the worlds opinion. About the beginning
Of Its vogue came in contact with 1t, t
my grievous injury.
''Of course there was a woman" h.
! went on after a slight pause. There al
, ways Is But she was such a woman a
only poets know In their dreams. Ant
by every right that springs from years O
I unflaggtng devotion and unselfish Low
she was mine
, Then he came, the composer. with al
= his old world charm and his old work
knowledge Of the human heart In some
J. thing less than q month from the day
n introduced him to her I learned that a.
. my unf1agging devotion and unselfish low
V could not tip the beam against the leas
y Of his smiles. This knowledge came dur
J. ing the performance Of the music 20
claim individually and collectively as you
own. AS they sang watched them Blu
e why go on? The music was composed 70
- her. The mans soul was in 1t.
" THAT was ten years ago. OCCASIONAL
, the desire takes possession Of me to lear
u II she still lives, II she is happy-wit
him, and I move In the track Of mer
), Yesterday she seemed to draw me dow
;. that way" And he waved his hand tr
IL ward the crowded east. We were hardl
n conscious that he had finished. His voic
q had fallen to whisper.
=. Over the sky hung fiery red. TT
IL desert wore a strange, pathetic look. tt