The Ely miner. [volume] (Ely, Minn.) 1895-1986, 1908-11-27
a Gloss
Shave
BY GEORGE E. MILES


classman. ''That's what I'd like to
know. 1 can't shave myself; that's
certain" His companions laughed.
you'll have to learn how" said
one.
''Not on your life" retorted the
handsome blond young fellow, sun
less the governor stops sending me
my allowance.
"Well, then," rejoined his fellow
student, ego to the theater as you
are and tell your girl that you are
starting beard. She certainly
won't know it unless you do tell
her." he added.
At this juncture a pale-faced,
black-haired youth, who was sitting
somewhat apart from the others, and
who had been nervously clasping and
unclasping the arms of his chair,
spoke up:
- can shave you II you want me
to-"
Barker looked around gratefully.
All the others smiled. 1t was Files,
of course. For some unaccountable
reason Files had voluntarily become
flag" for Barker, who liked it, be-
cause, as he would remark, cit is
so English, you know, to have flag
to order around" To everybody else
in the college "Barker's dog" as
Files was called behind his back, had
become an object of mild derision.
Barker grinned and accepted the
service. Going up to his room with
Files, he improvised BARRIERS chair,
stretched himself out in it luxurious
ly, threw his head well back, glanc-
ing first at the mirror to admire in
an inoffensive way the curly mus
tache and fair skin of which he was
secretly rather vain, and told Files
to ego ahead and begin his butcher
ing"
The keen edge Of the razor slid
rapidly and noiselessly over the RI
diculously smooth surface of Bark
er's neck, while the young fellow
looked up curiously at the black eyes
so close to his, which had CLEAN
of amusement in them, as Barker
interpreted it; for Files was laugh
ing under his breath, yet so forcibly
as to make his hand shake a little.
"Say, Files" continued Barker,
"do you really like this sort of thing
shaving a fellow and-and all
that? What are you laughing at any,
way? l don't see anything to laugh
at-unless," he added as an after
thought, cit be your own name"
Here Barker laughed himself.
"Who the deuce gave you such
Christian, or, rather, unchristian
name as Razzin? 1t isn't American
or English. 1t isn't French or Ger
man or Italian. It's oriental. That's
what it is. Arabic, or something of
that sort. Razzin Files. Damned
if it doesn't make one think of an
old tool-chest, with broken scroll
saws, pieces of wire, bits of leather
and black dust at the bottom"
He laughed aloud at the thought.
Files irrelevantly pulled out of his
pocket letter, remarking briefly:
81 found it on the floor just out
side the presidents office to-day.
Read it."
"Why," exclaimed Barker, taking
the letter, cit is addressed to him.
What are you doing with it"
ct is from my mother. Read it !"
was the persistent response.
Barker began reading, pausing for
a moment to caution Files about the
razor, the keen edge of which Files
was allowing to press, though ever
so lightly, against his neck, irritat-
ing him uraccountably. The letter
began:
My Dear Doctor: 1 have just received a
letter from Razzin which worries me a
little AS you know, he was discharged
from the insane asylum entirely cured of
his melancholia, but I have felt ever
since great anxiety about him which
this letter of his increases. You so kind
" assured me that you would keep him
under your eye and see that he was not
oyerworked or ovefstfained mentally, that
have had great hopes of his going
through the course without a recurrence
of the dreadful symptoms which caused
us such acute misery. Certain express
sions in his last letter, however, have
made me very uneasy
Barker interrupted his reading
to stare at the dark face bending
over him and to repeat his injunc-
ton to hold the razor away from his
neck.
81 want to see the white skin bet
ter" said Files with smile which
exasperated Barker, who lifted his
o,.,,, 70 ,,,sh a,pay tbe hand that hold