The Washington herald., 1913-12-28
DER GERMAN COBBLER
He Has Story for the Police Sergeant.

, lot vhas her. She vhas out West
Dot vhas der place where gold vhas so
plenty dot you can't plant potatoes Two
days ago a strange man comes In my
place. He vhas pale and seek. He leans
his head down on der table and sighs
und groans. He vhants no beer und no
cigars. He shust vhants TO die"
and you let him die. of course?'
mo, sir. I goes oafer und talks NIT
him und tries to sheer him oop. By und
by he feels better. He vhas from dot
| Cripple Creek. He owns der biggest gold
mine out dere. He vhas worth ten mil
, lio dollar. His name vhas Brown, und
he comes East to sell some stock to his
| frendts.'
"Oh, 1 seer' exclaimed the Sergeant
What you see? Was il a crime for a
man to own some gold mines?'
"Oh, no. Go on with your story, MI.
CobbIer."
"Vhell. don't shpeak dot vhay to me
any more. Dot man vhas awful seek.
Somebody picks his pocket of eight
hoonered dollar, und a street car runs
over his check book und breaks him in
two. He has some stock in his pocket,
howeffer. 1t vhas five hoonered dollar" /"
"Ahw
Here vhas dot stock See how nice
she vhas printed"
IT see"
Five hoonered dollar and I got him
for fifty"
Yes, five hundred, and it's yours?"
Shust so, Sergeant She belongs to
| me all right, und l vhas $50 ahead of
der game. Can you say any more dot /
vhas greenhorns? You vhas a sharp
man, but can you make $40 in two days?
sergeant, shake hands nit a smart man."
"A little later, Mr.. Cobbler," answered
SerRe2n
stock is worth?"
She vhas worth $500 anyhow, und
mebbe twice dot You vhas my frendt
but l can't sell her to you for less dan
$500"
That's too bad. I was going to offer
you 25 cents for it to paste up on the
wall"
''How-how you mean?" gasped Mr..
Cobbler.
1T isn't worth 25 cents, but as We are
old friends I'll give you that to help you
river, don't your
What about the river?'
1T is good place to jump into
"Vhas-vhas dot man some shwind-
lers?"
"Of course. Only dead beats and
swindlers come to you. The man does
not own a gold mine. He was not sick
He called on you on purpose to get
money on this stock, which isn't worth a
row of pins. II you don't like to jump
into the river, why not turn on the gas
in your room and be found dead in the
morning.
should I die?" asked Hans, with pale
face and trembling lips.
"Of course. What's the use of living
any longer? There hasn't been a month
for the last five years that some one
hasn't swindled you. The undertaken
will probably come some gum-game on
you at the very end-sell your cadaver
for s25 and put bricks in the coffin"
$3.50 I vhas shwindled.''
You were. Shake hands, Cobbler
Goodby to you, and, as We are old
friends I'll see to your funeral arrange
ments. I suppose you want to be buried
head downward, don't you?"
"Sergeant-Sergeant!"
But Hans could not get it out. He
waved his arms and moved his lips, but
the words stuck in his throat In a
fatherly way the Sergeant patted him on
the back, and then, taking him by the
arm, led him to the door and gently
worked him out The Cobbler did not
resist or look back. He limped down the
street and around the corner like a man
who had received an awful blow. and the
Sergeant re-entered the station and pro-
ceeded to wind up the clock.