The Bon Homme County independent. [volume] (Tabor, S.D.) 1904-1913, 1912-03-28
LITTLE STORIES OF LIFE
HOW UNCLE SAM LOST S64--BY CHARLES FORT.
COPYRIGHT BY SHORT STORY PUB. co.

pounds-s64. But Won't Mr.. Budd Lobe
be glad to see you! Come on, them"
Carry me-" said Simon. I'm sort OF
a ward o the government and must
travel luxoorious I'm mail and can't
walk"
And with many a gasp and many a
groan, the postman staggered to the
postofice with Simon resting comfort
ably on his Back.
He's MALL" sasped the postman
falling into the office with his parcel.
He isl" said the postmaster. We'll,
he don't go here. He's live stock and
Uncle Sam isn't carrying live stock,
Turn him outs
"That'l be all right" Simon agreed;
turn me out. I'm mail and amt sup
posed to talk, but my sender'n sue you,
There amt a court in the land would
uphold you. You just try to classify
a human bein' as live stock and hear
the kick thatll go up. There's the
Wimmin's clubs always something
frenzied to find something to kick
about. You let them hear you call
them and other human bein's live
stock!"
Toto California with him.
roared the postmaster. So there was
nothing to do but to accept Simon and
cancel his stamp. The indignant can
collation. clerk dipped his fist into in
delible ink and punched the stamp on
Simon's forehead, while up and down
his clothes postage due" stamps were
pasted.
Neatly done up in a sack all to him
self. Simon travelled across the o n
tinent. He saw nothing Of Philadelphia
and nothing of Chicago.
Don't want to-" said Simon; lust
want to say l been there. Must go to
Washington, too. There's sights there
Don't want them; just want to say
I been there" And, having a plenti-
full supply Of tablets secured from a
vegetarian, he subsisted as well as any
vegetarian, secluded in the mail cal
until the brakeman cried "San Fran
cisco!" and another postmark was
stamped on his forehead.
1t was the early morning delivery
The postman went up a stoop, whistling
and crying: Lobe! Budd Lobe! Any
one know Lobe?"
Budd Lobe knew Lobe and he has-
tened down the stairs.
"Sixty-four dollars due" said the
postman.
why, If it amt Simon Bobbles!'
cried Budd. How are you, Simon
What on earth are you doing here ?
And what's that on your forehead
What kind Of a stamp album are you
wearing"
Said the postman: "sixty-four dol
lars, please"
Then Budd Lobe understood.
What? For Simon Boobies. He
amt worth 1t. Sorry, Simon, but you
know o aren't worth anything like
SEA-"
IT know it," Simon admitted. and
mumbling something about being de-
lighted to see him, Budd ran down
the stoop, and rushed around the cor
ner, flying from so much unpaid post
age.
We'll, If this isn't a SELF" exclaimed
the postman. Now what's to become
of your"
kind o. like to see washington
drawled Simon. Anyway, I've got 1,
to say that I've been in Frisco"
And with the government at a loss
OF $64, he was forwarded to the dead
letter office.
A clerk rudely tore of his coat. II
was the envelope" Of the dead letter.
In a vest pocket was a card bearing
the name and home address Of Simon
Bobbles.
They sent him home from the dead
letter office.
Says Simon: There's always ways
of dom things. Been everywhere
Didn't see much places, but just the
same can say l was there"