The Princeton union. [volume] (Princeton, Minn.) 1876-1976, 1906-03-15

Il Ne
dull, hunched over attitude. He had
many things to think out before he
faced Rouen and Crailey Gray again,
and mtre to fight through to the end
with himself. Three days he took for
| it, three days driving through the soft
May weather behind the kind old Jog
| trotting horse.
But on the evening of the third day
he drove into town, with the stoop out
| of his shoulders and the luster back
in his eyes. He was haggard, gray,
dusty, but he had solved his puzzle, and
one thing was clear in his mind as the
| thing that he would do. He patted the
old horse hearty farewell as he left
| him with the liveryman from whom he
| had hired him and strobe UP Main
street with the air of a man who is
going somewhere. It was late, but
| there We're more lights than usual in
| the windows and more people on.-the
| streets. An old man, a cobbler, who
had left a leg at Tippecanoe and re-
placed it with wooden one, chastely
decorated with designs of his own
| carvings, came stumping excitedly
| down the middle of the street, where he
| walked for fear Of the cracks in the
wooden pavement, which were danger
Gus to his art leg when he came from
| the Rouen House bar, as on the present
| occasion. He hailed Tom by name.
You're the lad, Tom Vanrevelv' he
| shouted. you're the man to lead the
boys out for the glory Of the state!
You git the whole blame fire depart
| ment out and enlist 'em before morn
ing. Take 'em down to the Rio Grande,
| you hear me-? And you needn't be
afraid of their putin it out, if it
ketches aire, neither!'
Tom waved his hand and passed OIL
but at the open doors of the Catholic
church he stopped and looked up and
down the street, and then, unnoticed,
| entered to the dim interior, where the
few candles showed only a bent old
woman in black kneeling at the altar.
Tom knew where Elizabeth Carewe
knelt each morning. He stepped softly
through the shadowy silence to her
place, knelt and rested his head upon
| the rail of the bench before him.
The street was quiet when he emerged
from that lorn vigil. The corner groups
had dissolved. Shouting youths no
longer patrolled the sidewalks. Only
one quarter showed signs Of life-the
| little clubhouse, where the windows
still shone brightly and whence came
the sound of many voices settling the
destinies Of the United States of Amer
lea. Thither Tom bent his steps
thoughtfully and with a quiet mind.
There was small veranda at the side
of the house. Here he stood unob-
served to look in upon his noisy and
agitated friends.
They were all there, from the old
general and Mr.. Bareaud to the latter's
son, Jefferson, and young Frank Chen
oweth. Trumble was proposing a
health to the president in q voice of
fury. ..
I'm spite Of all the Crailey Grays and
traitors this side of hadesv' he finished
politely.
Crailey emerged instantaneously from
the general, throng and mounted
chair, tossing his light hair back from
his forehead, his eyes sparkling and
happy. you find your own friends al
ready occupying the place you men,
toned, do you, general?'' he asked.
General Trumble stamped and shook
bis fist you're spawn Of Aaron
Burr!'' he vociferated. There's not
man here to stand by your Internal
doctrines. You sheer at your own
state, you sheer at your own country,
you defle the sacred ground! What
are you, by the Almighty, who attack
your native land in this her hour of
peril?''
"Peril to my native landv' laughed
Crailey. IRON Santa Anna?"
'The generals right, SIR" exclaimed
the elder Chenoweth Indignantly, and
most of the listeners appeared to agree
| with him. :'It's~a poor time to abuse
the president when he's called for vol
| unteers and our country is in danger,
sir!''
"Who is in danger?" answered Graf
ley, lifting his hand to still the clamor
Of appreciation that arose. lis Polk in
danger, OF congress? But that would
be too much to hope! Do you expect
to see the greasers in Washington? No,
you idiots, you don't! Yet there'll be
| plenty Of men to suffer and die, and
the first should be those who thrust
this war Oh us and poor little Mexico.
But it won't be they. The men who'll
do the fighting and dying will be the
country boys anG the like of us from
the towns, while Mr.. Polk sits planning
how he can get elected again. And
you ask me to drink the health of the
| politician who sits at home and sends
his fellow men to die to fix his rotten
jobs for him!' Crailey had persuaded
himself into such earnestness that the
depth of his own feeling almost choked
him, but he finished roundly in his
beautiful, strong voice: "I'll drink for
the good punch's sake. But that health
I'll see General Tumble in heaven