Cañon City record., 1906-05-10
$
Bald Head

With a weary little sigh Margaret
Huston pushed aside the closely writ
ten pages. 1t was no use. The story
would not go.
For six months now she had written
stories-clever. harmless little things
which her friends easily could have
forgiven her had she not insisted upon
regarding them all as legitimate ma
terial." She moved in world of fic-
rion; she revelled in situations; incipi-
ent plots ran riot in her brain.
But today as she pushed back her
chair and walked with graceful. i'm
patient movement to the open window.
she found no solution to her problem.
The story was at standstill. Up to
this point 1t had progressed smoothly
enough. After series Of vicissitudes
of the kind peculiar to young authors
the hero had boarded an eastern bound
express at San Francisco. The heroine
a victim Of diverse and equally salts
flying misfortunes, had unwittingly
taken this same express at Denver.
What the result would he was obvious.
but it was right here that the hero
failed to rise to the occasion with his
customary alacSlIy.
1T all sounds SO out of place, some
how, on a train" murmured the fair
author. wrinkling her pretty forehead
perplexedly. He could not act in the
usual way" she continued reminiscent
ly, as various pictures Of moonlit
porches and palm sheltered corners
nitted across her memory. 1T is a
situation that would have to work it
self out A sudden thought stained
the white skin scarlet. ''Oh, no. l
never could do that" she whispered.
while the soft breeze famed her hot
cheeks. .'But 1t would only be in the
interest of art insinuated the tempter.
Artists must sacrifice themselves to
their work And John Sherwood's
doom was sealed.
Short. sharp puffs OF escaping steam
a jolt. faint vibration, and the New
York train steamed slowly out OF Ards
ley on Hudson.
All unaware that he was but pawn
In his fair lady's game. John Sherwood
leaned forward in his seat and regard
ell her with wondering. delighted eyes.
This sudden graciousness. this unex
piainable nervousness. the flushed. half
ayerted face. bore but one interpreta-
ton TO his eager lovers heart. She was
inexpressibly dear to him. this slender.
capricious maiden: how dear he had
never before quite dared 10 say. but
now
They had found seals ON the river
side The setting sun shot quivering
..,.f,n sI,s he. ter
crowned the opposite mountains with
soft golden li.ht. She made mental
note of the yellow splendor. OF course
there was no river in her story. but
western mountain ridges bathed in
sunset glory would be a fitting back
ground for her hero's impassioned ap-
peal.
John leaned toward her Margaret"
he said impuisiyely. did you ever hear
why Opportunity Is supposed to have
a bald head?''
She turned her head with resentfnl
little gesture. He was beginning bad
ly. No bald head, even that of Oppor-
tunity, had place in her picture OF
youth and shifting golden lights and
passionate appeal: then. remembering
forced little smile.
With faint. grinding protest the
train stopped at Dobbs Ferry. A girl
with two small children In tow entered
the car: behind her trailed a woman
in somber widows weeds. Margaret
rejected the children as being too
sticky. but the sunset. the widows
garb Of woe in sharp contrast to the
hero's impassioned declaration
Because opportunity's head Is
bald" went on Johns dogged voice
.no one can grab him from behind
after he has passed. you know-but In
front his hair Is long
"Ohr' she cried family. Would he
never have done with that head All
her artistic sense arose In mute rebel
lion. Even the dimplc In her chin re
treated in sweet disdain.
Hastings" shouted the conductor.
The train slowed down gently-stopped
-pufred slowly on again. John. too
deep In his struggle with Opportunity
to heed the signs of gathering storm on
his fair lauy'S face, rushed on TO his
impending doom.
- Is long" he repeated. $50 the
only way to get hold of him is to grab
him when you meet him
Absence OF the sweet graciousness of
an hour ago in the fair face beside him
warned him OF the fatal futility of his
words. but he bluudered on. red and
embarrassed. TO his unhappy end, And
so-ths-today- with you-is my
opportunity and want to grasp it
and you." he finished hoarsely.
"Yonkers! All aboard, Next stop
One Hundred and Twenty fifth strcetw
With short, sharp puffS of protest. the