Ottumwa tri-weekly courier. [volume] (Ottumwa, Iowa) 1903-1916, 1912-05-09

he asked Celestine how many OF the
girls had received this-this-detes-
table forgery.
"All Of them" answered the little
hunchback.
And how many went?
"All of them" said Celestine chok-
ingly. There was such jam the
street-cars couldn't get through, and"
The rest Of her sentence was lost in
a din that almost took the roof or.
The Cadets were inflamed afresh vt the
memory Of their wrongs. Alas, Tor
the love that had turned to hate IN
sixty-three heaving bosoms They
might have been sixty-three tigers,
and yowled as bloodthirstly. Cups
few, old boots, chairs, tin swords, :he
regimental records-wfth Matt dodg-
ing Hike monkey on a stick, Ia
lrending the air with protestations OF
innocence. But even when the tumu!t
died down no one would believe him
except Celestine, who took his part
like a little heroine, repeating every
word he said in shrill staccato. and
adding torrents of her own. Then
Matt grew angry at being mis5udsed;
he was smarting and sore both ;ns;ie
and out; he dropped to the floor and
faced them with the intrepidity OF a
man whose temper was boiling.
~ am done with you" he cried.
"You are a lot Of fools! l have told
you the truth. and all you do is TO boot
and yell. I'm sick Of explaining and
not being believed. resign! Do you
hear? resign!"
He stalked slowly to the stairs, a
lane opening out before him, and not
a soul lifting finger to check or at.
tack him. But he had scarcely taken
a dozen steps before he heard them
behind him, as with locked arms and
four abreast. they followed, compact
and revengeful. At the bottom Of the
first fight the murmur OF voices re-
solved itself into sort Of chorus.
BOO, Boo, Mr.. Boo! Boo, Boo,
we're on to you!" they chartered IN
unison. boo, Boo, Mr.. Boo! Boo,
Boo, we're on to you!" till the huge,
empty building reechoed in every
Granny with the lugubrious refrain.
1T continued to the street, all the
riff-raff joining the procession, and
pleased to add their hearty concur
renee to the bounding of that hatless,
collarless, torn and scratched latter
demalion who limped along in front.
boo, Boo, Mr.. Boo! Boo, Boo, wore
on to you!" With windows opening,
people running, saloons pouring out
their mouth-wiping customers, and all
midtown frantically astir. It Is diff
cult to estimate the precise slur con-
veyed by boo, Boo, Mr.. Boo! Boo,
Boo, we're on to you!" but as means
of expressing public disapproval 1t was
hideously effective. Not daring to run
lest he should unloose an avalanche
behind him, and become the victim OF
a mob that increased in size and anger
at every yard, Matt was compelled to
lengthen out the agony Of the most
Notifying experience that had ever
fallen to his lot.
BOO, Boo, Mr.. Boo! Boo. Boo, we're
on to you!" Block by block; up one
street and down another; across the
bridge, and past the dark, wide river
no respite, no mercy, no help from
anywhere One lone figure leading;
unnumbered hundreds marching be-
hind; and that never-ending boo, Boo,
Mr.. Boo! Boo, Boo, we're on to you!"
At last, however, as the lights grew
far apart, and residences and gardens
doomed in either side, the ranks
wavered and thinned; the chorus
diminished; the mill-town legs Jagged,
and midtown throats gave out. Matt
strobe on unattended. Soon his own
football was the only sound that dis
turbed the stiffness Of the night; he
increased his pace to trot, and in a
few minutes more was safe on Mrs.
Sattane's porch, and awaiting his
chance to slip up unobserved to his
room.
Ito be Continued)