Bryan daily eagle and pilot. [volume] (Bryan, Tex.) 1909-1918, 1912-04-11

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placed them nicely into their places.
I'VE would chat for hours--far into
the night--he smoked one pipe after
another; I, an occasional cigarette.
The room would gradually fill with
gently curling smoke, and in the soft
shade OF his study lamp those wallis
we're grand. ! could catch faint OF
all-heads, horns, lariats and pipes
as the air grew denser with the gentle
putting: an expression OF far-away
dreaminess over his face; around me,
the drifts fcurling smoke-a little
floating cloud here, a tiny hurricane
there-and beyond it all, family, /
could see those wild staring bison
heads, horns, long snake-like lariats;
and what chains of weird fantastic
thoughts tore through my mind.
There we would sit; the minutes
would stretch into hours, and the
hours far into the night; but who
, could move in such an atmosphere?
MANY, many such nights / have
spent. AS time went by these moods
seemed to change from those OF far
away lonesomeness into sadness and
melancholy. tried to cheer him by
long walks on the boulevards, and
into the parks and often we went to
the opera; but it was only a few
months till there was a mist in his
eye and sadness in his face. Surely
he was pining his soul away for some
thing that was somewhere beyond the
seas. But, beside an occasional in
terest in his pipes-a caressing touch
and a fond look at each-his concern
in life seemed to have withered and
Ito have died.
Finally, he was rarely at the
studios, for his fingers had become
excited and he ruined figure after
figure At this he would merely smile;
a faint wan smile. And then there
came a time when he never left his
room, but was always at the little
table in his den-always smoking,
putting long curling wreaths into the
air.
1T was during this period that |
happened into his apartment one
morning and after knocking several
times and receiving no reply, opened
the door AS | entered, he quickly
thrust something into the desk in the
corner, and when he turned about
there was a tear on his cheek and
anguish in his face. He tried to smile,
but it was failure. He tried to speak
pleasantly, but it was evident that it
was forced. His shaky fingers reached
for a pipe and soon he was loosing its
contents into the air in those long
curling wreaths, which he could do so
we'll And soon his attempt at pleas
antless died and he sank into stu
por-ever putting and curling his
wreaths of smoke into the air. All!
it was that day that he said the only
cross word that l ever heard him
utter. When arose to go wished to
speak to him, but he made no answer
to my words, and | lay my hand on
his shoulder and shook him gently.
He shrugged them ill-naturedly and
said. DON'T In moment the anger
fitted from his face and he smiled
and begged my pardon.
81 called again the next morning,
for | ever feared that he would be-
come i'll, and was greatly surprised.
He seemed half his old-time self
again as he bid me a cheerful good
morning. There was not sign of
smoke in his room and his windows
must have been open the whole night
All that day he seemed in fine spirits,
and in the evening we went for walk
on the boulevards.
The next night | called, and
brought with me, at his request, two
friends. All had | but known that 1t
was to be the last night-the last
time would see him alive! No more
was | to sit in that haze of waiting
smoke, there in the soft shade Of his
lamp, and peer through the mists at
those staring heads, and horns, and
myriads of pipes. Had / only known,
perhaps, even now | might be with
him. But when we entered knew that
it had been but a passing wave, for
again the atmosphere was heavy, and
once more there was melancholy in
his expression. We had talked per-
haps for an hour when he arose and
went to his desk and drew forth a
case. 1t was the same that had
caught glimpse of the morning when
l came in and found him with tear
on his cheek, and a look of anguish
in his face. He laid it on the table,