Willmar tribune. [volume] (Willmar, Minn.) 1895-1931, 1907-05-29

much in big eut-of-door solitudes.
Amt he a nervy old guy?" said a
crisp little money broker to Fouts..
They're wiped out, but you wouldn't
think he cared any more about it than
Mike, the porter, with his brass polish
out there"
The old man held his paper up, but
did not read.
Percival rushed in by him, beckon.
ing him to the inner room.
"Shepler's all right about the Ono
Girl. He'll take mortgage on it for
two hundred thousand If you'll recon-
mend it-only he can't get the money
before tomorrow. There's bound to
be rally in this stock, and we'll go
right back for some of the hair of the
-why-what's the matter-Uncle Pc.
teri"
The old man had reeled, and then
weakly caught at the top of the desk
with both hands for support.
Ruined" he cried, hoarsely, as it
the extent Of the calamity had just
borne in upon him. MY God! Ruined,
and at my time of life!" He seemed
about to collapse. Percival quickly
helped him into a chair, where he be.
came limp.
There, I'm all right. oh, it's ter
rible! and we all trusted you so. l
thought you had your pas brains. I'd
"a trusted you soon's I would Shep-
Ter, and now look what you led us into
fortune gone-broke-and all your
FAULT"
Don't, Uncle Peter-don't, for
Gods sake-not when I'm down! /
can't stand it,"
no, that wasn't enough-take your
poor mas share and your sisters, and
take what little had to keep me in
my old age-robbed us all-that's
what comes of thinkin' a damned tea
drinkin' fop could have a thimbleful
of brains!"
Don't, please-not just now-give
it to me good later-to-morrow-
you want to-"
And here I'm come to want in my
last days when I'm too feeble to work.
I'll die in bitter privation because
was an old fool, and trusted young
One.''
please don't, Uncle Peter!"
You led us in-robbed your poor
ma and your sister. told you didn't
know anything about it and you talked
me into trusting you'll might "a
known better
Cant you stop awhile-just mo.
ment?"
"Of course don't matter. Maybe I
can hold q drill, or tram ore, or some
thing, but can't support your ma
and Pishy like they ought to be, with
my rheumatic comm on again, too.
And your mall have to take in board.
ers, and do washin' like as not, and
think Of poor Pishy-probly she'll
have to teach school or clerk in a
store-poor Pish-she'll be lucky now
If she can marry some common scrub
American out in them hills-like as
not one of them shoe-clerks in the
Boston Cash Store at Montana City!
And jest when I was lookin' forward
to luxury and palaces in England, and
everything so grand! How much you
lost?"
That's right, no use whining!
Nearly as can get the round figures
of it, about twelve million
"Awful-awful! By Cripes! tina:
man Blythe that done himself up the
other night had the right of it. What's
the use of living if you got to go to
the poorhouse?"
Come, comet" said Percival, alarm
over Uncle Peter crowding out his
other emotions. BE a game loser,
just as you said pa would be. Sit up
straight and make 'em bring on an.
other deck"
He slapped the old man on the back
with simulated cheerfulness; but the
despairing one only covered weakly
under the blow.
1--WE can't-we amt got the stake
for a new deck. Oh, dear! think OF
your ma and me not KNOWN where
to turn fur a meal of victuals at our
time of life.''
Percival was being forced to cheer.
fulness in spite of himself
Come, it isn't as bad as that, Uncle
Peter. We've got properties left, and
good ones, too"
Uncle Peter weakly waved the hand
of finished encouragement. Hush,
don't speak of that. Them properties
need manager to make 'em pay-a
plain business mana man to stay on
the ground and watch 'em and develop
'em with his brains-a young man
with his health! What good am T.
a poor, broken down old cuss, bent
double with rheumatiz-almost-
ashamed of you fur suggesting such a
thing!"
"I'l do it myself never thought
Of asking you
Uncle Peter emitted = nasal gasp
of disgust.
"You-you-you'd make a purity
manager of anything, wouldn't you!
AS if you could be trusted with any
thing again that needs schoolboy's
intelligence. Even II you had the
brains, you amt got the taste nor the
sperrit in you. You're too lazy-too
triflin'. You, -agoin' back there, de-
velopin' mines, and gettin' out ties,
and lumber, and breeding shorthorns.
and improvin' some of the finest land
God ever made-you bein' sober and
industrious, and smart, like business
man has got to be out there nowadays.
That amt any bonanza country. any
more; now amt like 1870; don't fig