The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1905-11-12

and, from the first, her artistic egoism
insisted that she was.
Stingaree had picked up a program,
and dexterously mounted it between
hammer and cartridge of the revolver
which he had momentarily relinquished,
much as a cornet player mounts his y
music under his nose. With both
weapons once more leveled, he consulted
the program now. 81
"The next item, ladies and gentle
men, said he, sis another pianoforte
solo by this young lady. Wen let you
off that, Miss Bouverie, since you we
got to sing. Theenext song on the cro-
gram is called The Unrealized Ideal,
and the music is by our distinguished /,
visitor and patron, Sir Julian Crum. In
happier circumstances it would have
been sung to you by Mrs. Montgomery /,
Bouyerie to realize her ideal and ours, i
and on Sir Julian Crum to accompany
her, if he will.
At Mrs. Clarksor's stony side tho
great man dropped both arms at the
superb impudence Of the invitation.
"Quite right, Sir Julian; let the blood ].
run into them," said Stingaree. cit is S
a pure oversight that you were not =
exempted In the beginning. Comply
with my entreaty and guarantee that
you shall suffer no further inconveni-
ence.'' 3.
Sir Julian wavered. In London he,
was clubman and diner-out; and
what tale for the Atheneum-what a
short cut to every ear at 3 Kensington
dinner tablet In tho end it would get
into the papers. That was the worst
Of it. But in the midst Of Sir Julian's
5 hesitation his bordering eyes met those
of Miss Bouverie-on fire to sing him !
his own song-alight with the ability to
do it justice. And Sir Julian was lost.
How she sang it may be guessed. Sir
Julian bowed and swayed upon the
stool. Stingaree stood by with smile
of personal pride and responsibility,
but with both revolvers still leveled1
and one of them cooked. It was
better song than he had supposed. It
gained enormously from the composer g
accompaniment. The last verse was
softer than another would have made it,
and yet the singer obeyed inaudible in
structions as tho she had never sung it
otherwise. It was more in tuneful
. whisper than in hushed notes that the
last words left her lips:
/ "Lightly I sped when hope was high,
And youth beguiled the. chase;
, follow-follow still; but
Shall never see her face"
The applause, when it came, was
!, almost overwhelming. The bushranger
, watched and smiled, but cooked his Sec
ond pistol, and let the program futter
to the floor. AS for Sir Julian Crum,
the elf-contained, the cynical, he was
seen for an instant, wheeled about on
: the music-stool, grasping the singer by
= both hands. But there was no hearing
:, what he said; the girl herself heard
. nothing until he beloved in her ear:
q "They'n have their encore. What
r can you give thems It must be some
thing they know. Home, Sweet Homes
q 'The Last Rose9'' Within Mile9' The
first, eh7 Very well; it s leaf out Of
9 Patti IS book, but SO are they ALL
r And he struck the opening bars in the
I key Of his own song, but for some mo-
t. ments Hilda Bouverie stood bereft Of
t her great voice. A leaf out Of Patti $
a book, in that up-country township, be-
Q fore roomful held in terror--and yet
unmindful-of the loaded pistols Of two
d bloodthirsty bushrangers! The singer
>. prayed for power to live up to those
v golden words. A leaf out Of Patti g
J, book! =
r It was over. The last poignant note
:. trembled into nothingness. The silence,
q absolutely dead for some seconds, was
a then only broken by spirituous sob
It from the incorrigible stockman. There
II was never any applause at all. Ere 1T
II can>s, even as it was coming, the over
e seer Radford leapt to his feet with
10 raucous shout.
The bushranger had vanished from
9. the platform. The other bushranger
d had Disappeared thru the other door.
n The precious pair Of them had melted
from the room unseen, unheard, what
i: time every eye dotted on handsome Hilda
Ie Bouverie, and every ear on the simple
II words and moving cadences Of Home,
Is Sweet Home.'
"a Ted Radford was the first to see it;
,e for by the end Of the brief song he had
b. his revolver uncovered and cooked at
If last and no quarry left for him to shoot
$. With bound he was on the platform;
k another carried him into the canvas
in anteroom, third and fourth out
,o 1QCO Cue mOOullSAo' u "e1o e'o W ~ ~
ID noon in conservatory Of smoked glass
" And in the tinted brightness one man
was already gallopiing away; but 1t wa:
t. Stingaree who danced with one foot
&. only in the stirrup Of a milk-white mare
Or Radford rushed up to him and free
g point blank again and again. A series
3 Of metallic clicks was all the harm
he did, for Stingaree was in the saddle
n before the hurled revolver struck TIT
is mare on the ribs, and sent the ..pail
or fying thru the moonlight with shou
III Of laughter, cloud of sand, and dul
v. volley Of thunderous hoofs. The over
il seer picked up his revolver and returned
rd crestfallen to examine it in the lights
to of the emptying room.
90 ssI could have sworn | loaded 1t, :,
-, said he. eff I had, he'd have beer
u a dead man six times over.
ou Miss Bouverie had been talking t.
en- Sir Julian Crum. On Radford's entr,
ou she had grown distraite, but at Rad
I'd ford IS speech she turned back to 81
Julian with shining eyes.
d: stMy wife wants a companion for tn
in voyage he was saying SO that WI
- cost YOU nothing, but If ANYTHING tn
hu other way. and once in London L II b
er answerabIe. I've adiudicated thes
p things for years to voices not In tn
le- same class as yours But the worst
81 .4n,, u nc - =