The Chanute times. [volume] (Chanute, Kan.) 1897-1913, 1910-12-16

Inc struggle Lasted
go away. My whole future in this
country depended upon my returning
in time to complete certain business.
so, after dear Lopez was dead,
rushed to the local railroad station
A train was coming in. | searched my
pocket for my money to buy my tick.
ct. All | could find was the five-dollar
bill!
1T was necessary to return to Chi
cago; yet could not lose the bill. A
happy thought struck me. l wrote
upon the face of it the words you have
seen, and paid it to the ticket agent.
| called his attention to the writing
and implored him to save the bill if
he could until | returned, and if not,
to be sure to remember the Person he
gave it to-"
Orme laughed.
1T does seem funny" said Senior
Poritol, rolling another cigarette, "but
you cannot imagine my most frantic
desperation. l returned to Chicago and
transacted my business. Then /
fastened back to the Wisconsin city.
Woe is me! The ticket agent had paid
the bill to a Chicago citizen. l Sc
cured the name Of this man and finally
found him at his Office on La Sale
street. Alas! he, too, had spent the
bill, but | tracked it from person to
person, until now, my dear sir, have
found it? So" he paused and looked
eloquently at Orme.
DO you know man named
Evans?" Orme asked.
Senior Poritol looked at him in be-
wilderment
IS R. Evans" insisted Orme.
why, no, dear sir-I think not.
But what has that TO do-?"
Orme pushed a sheet of paper across
the table. "Oblige me, Senior Poritol.
Senior Poritol was apparently re-
luctant. However, under the compul-
sion of Orme's eye, he finally took out
his fountain pen and wrote the name
in flowing script. He then pushed the
paper back toward Orme, with an in
quiring look.
mo, that isn't what | mean," ex-
claimed Orme. Print it. Print it in
capital letters"
Senior Poritol slowly printed out
the name.
Orme took the paper, laying 1t be-
fore him. He then produced the
coveted bill from his pocketbook.
Senior Poritol uttered a little cry Of
delight and stretched forth an eager
hand, but Orme, who was busily COM
pairing the letters on the paper with
the letters on the bill, waved him
back.
After a few moments Orme looked
up. "Senor Poritol," he said, "why
didn't you write the secret on a time
table, or on your ticket, before you
gave the bill to the agent?"
Senior Poritol was flustered. Why"
he said uncertainty, 81 did not think
of that. How can we explain the mis-
takes we make in moments of great
True" said Orine. "But one more
point You did not yourself write
your friends secret on the bill. The
letters which you have just printed
are differently made"
Senior Poritol said nothing. He
was breathing hard.
"On the other hand" continued
Orme, turning the bill over and cycling
the inscription on its face, your mis-
take in first writing the name instead
of printing 1t shows me that you did
write the words on the face of the
bill" He returned the bill to his
pocketbook. 81 can't give you the |
BILL" he said. your story doesn't |
hold together"
With a queer little scream the
South American bounded from his
chair and flung himself at Orme. He
struck no blow, but clawed desperate
Iy at Orme's pocket The struggle
lasted only for a moment. Orme,
seizing the little man by the collar,
ragged him. wriggling. to the door.
Now get out" said Orme. ."If I
ind you hanging around I'll have you
ocked up"
Senior Poritol whispered: TT Is my