The mirror., 1913-06-19
he PROMISED HIS MOTHER.
WHY Can't Jack Crawford, Scout and Poet Did Not Drink.
dEpsooucD IN AND THE CHRISTIAN DvocAn9
(REpRooucsp the SUMMARY AND THE CHRISTIAN ADyOcATE)

at the Allied Trade Press banquet
at the new McAlpin Hotel he was
asked at 2:3O A. M. to drink toast
to the ladies. Despite the fact that
there were no ladies present and
wine had been flowing freely, he
did a brave and manly act when he
said to the fifty or more editors:
Gentlemen, undoubtedly you have
noticed that my wine glasses have
been turned upside down, and, al
though it may not be considered al
together in good taste, there is only
one toast that l can give, and which
| gave at the Governors banquet in
Boston some years ago. A beauti-
full, laughing, blue eyed society girl
passed glass of wine across the
table to me and asked me to give a
LOdSC 10 Tue ldulcS. T1OWCl pO-
tween us hid my upturned glasses,
hence she did not know that had
not been drinking wine. | stood
up, took the glass from her jeweled
hand and said: Miss, your father,
the POSTMASTER, is my comrade.
This is difficult task you have CIV
en- me, and shall drink a toast to
Woman-not in that, however,
W hich may bring her husband reel
ing home to abuse where he should
love and cherish, send her boy to d
drunkard's 8 grave, and perhaps her
daughter to life of shame. Not
in that, but rather in Gods life Civ
ing water, pure as her chastity, clear
as her intuitions, bright as her
smile, sparkling as the laughter of
her eyes, strong and sustaining as
her love'--which [ did amid pro-
found silence.
The girl was about to- speak
when I said, Just moment, please.
That toast would be entirely out of
place without an explanation. Let
me describe scene in the noun
tains. My horse and l were On the
trail of hostile Indians, almost fam
ished for water. when, after discov-
ering a spring and drinking, l heard
several yells and whoops in a group
of trees just below me, and, ap-
preaching carefully, l saw dozen
men dancing around camp fire and
one of them, throwing his sombre-
ro in the air, exclaimed, Say, fellers,
l reckon we've struck it rich at last ,
Thinking they were prospectors
and that they had found gold, l
jumped on to my mare, and as the
sun had just gone down, started
towards the crowd. And immedi-
ately some one shouted, Indians,
get yer guns Thinking the Indi-
ans were behind me, l put spurs to
my mare; threw my head down
along side of her neck, and started
on the dead run, and just then some
one shouted, Don't shoot; that's a
white man. In few seconds more
l was up with the group, wheeled
my mare around and, pulling my
Winchester, shouted: Where's the
Indians?' Who said anything about
1ndians?' said big fellow with long
hair and broad sombrero. Some
one shouted Indians, said /. Wal,
/ reckon there amt no Injuns round
'cept you're one.' Me?' l said, and
my mare still dancing from the
sting of the spurs, me?' Yes, you,
an if Shorty hadn't yelled that you
was a white man, we'd a perforated
your anatomy. Who are you? My
name is Jack Crawford. The boys
call me Capt. jack because / am
chief of Uncle Sans scouts on the
trail of hostile Indians Then be-
fore / had time to quiz him, he said,
'I'll tell ye what was the racket.