Grant County herald. [volume] (Lancaster, Wis.) 1850-1968, 1908-01-15
JONES THE
TRAVELLER
BY WiIfred H. Auburn.
lF1G9I1G1I2S15151IEG25292S2


/ had met Jones before. In fact,
meeting him had become a sort of
habit The first time 1 saw him he
was hanging by his feet. an apoplectic,
squirming mass, on the facade of
Blarney Castle, kissing the stone of
eloquence. My camera caught him in
the act. "Gad!" he sputtered, when
told him that his feat was immortal
lied. rs my face in it? Send me
one, will you? ThatlI prove to the
folks back in GAINESVILLE that l did
It"
l had run across him again in Lon
don. where all ways meet. I was
sauntering around the Whitechapel
ghetto. and through the window of an
alley tavern l noticed two men drink
ing stout. One was bobby" in uni
form. His eyes were bleared and
his face purple. The profile of the
other looked familiar. l walked in,
and beh5ld-JOnes. The policeman,
startled by my intrusion, brought him
self together and wabbled out. Jones
turned to me with look of vast re-
proach:
"Glad to see you again, old man,
but-why couldn't you stay away a
little longer? I'd have had it in half
an hour more"
HAD what?"
'sWhy. his club, Lord, what souv-
enir that would have made!"
Our ways had parted again for a
7 vi inc a vvf
crest Of the Black Forest, near Titisee,
pumping slowly to the top of the long,
white road. A pine cone struck my
handle-bar Another Knocked my hat
off. and l looked up. An aerial voice
emitted a Tyrolean halloo with much
JUNCTION, and I saw a swaying speck
silhOuetted against a cloud. My in
stinct told me it was Jones.
"Hey. old mani" he yelled, trumpet
ing through his hand, take my pic
ure-quick-you're just in time
can't hold on much longer-camera'
at foot of the tree-lost it half way
upi"
His camera was smashed, so l used
my own. Were you expecting me-"
asked, when he Skinned down, with
barked hands and frayed trousers.
"No. not exactly. Look here-big-
Eest pine cone in Germany, from the
taIIest tree OIL top of the highest
hill in the Schwarzwald. There's
something worth while!"
admitted it, and we stood sur
veying the panorama of mounded
hills, and deep-cut gorges full of the
sound of falling water.
Lovely I murmured.
"What?-Oh yes, / s'pose it is.
But say wonder if I couldn't find
a bigger cone somewhere in these
parts. Let's move on"
Then l ran across him in Meir-
ingen-after it had happened. In the
cool of the evening 1 found lin,
swathed form on crutches, motionless
IN the middle of the main street, star
ing up at the mountains to the south.
$50 it is all over, Jones? And you
have survived. Corae and tell me
about it."
He lowered his gaze from the noun
tains and turned to me with look of
hopeless sorrow.
You dc1't believe I'd lie about
it. do your" he asked.
Certainly not"
/ followed him to table near by,
and while we slipped he told me his
story. thus:
Maybe I'd never have tried 1t
the trip across the Scheidegg-n Id
known what was up against. Easy
enough, with q good pointed stock
But with a bicycle"
"You don't mean to say you crossed
that pass with a bicycle!"
with it, on it, and under it," he
declared. Il wanted to do it-for the
experience, you know. 1 guess no
ovclist ever did it before. And that
footpath was the shortest way from
Crindewald to Meiringen.
"Ah. 1 groan yet when I think OF
that path. I started up, shown the
old bike. slidin' on the powders and
sticlrin' in the mud, and pluggin'
nm and up. and stoppin' for breath,
mn and then up again. BLOWN and
steamIn' and groanin', and always
Iookin' for the top. Every once In