The citizen-Republican. (Scotland, Bon Homme County, S.D.) 1???-19??, 1913-10-30

none Of the best people. Anybody VINO
away.
Except Mr.. Curran. He wondered
why he had come back Sentiment
brought him as it had sent him forth,
as It directed most of his affairs. Senti-
ment, this September afternoon. kept
min sitting on a bale of stock paper In
front of the News office. watching the
town kids bat files on h vacant lot
next to him. 1t was press day. the
weeks issue was run OFF and Aleck and
Jim Minis, the tramp printer, were
wrapping the mail list to take to the
postoffice in a w-heelbarrow. Mr.. Cur
ran ought to have been busy, but he
smoked and watched the town kids.
In that same lot he batted flies with
the same fence for a back stop, yelled
the same derision at the pitcher, broke
the same windows and fled down the
same alley when old Marshal Bee came
doddering from the court house on
complaint of the Widow Steger. Mr..
Curran could s~entimentally forget that
he was SO.
A clamor Of the high school football
practice came from behind the curtain
of yellowing sugar trees IN High street.
Only h younger town kids still ling
cred at the summer diversion of fly.
batting, and for every urchin who hung
his bare legs owe the News walk in
the tarweed. waiting his turn. there
We're at least two dogs. AS Jim Minis
said. all the yelps and kyoodles in town
We're there. MI. Curran sentimentally
wished he had a dog-he felt himself
worthy a good dog. He listened to
Aleck shaping his paste on the
wrappers and watched the ky
coolies yawing around the kids feet,
scratching their sptnes in the tarweed
and grinning up with all the pleasure
of 1T, and he said suddenly aloud:
Gee. I wish I had a dog!"
Then somebody. whom he had not
noticed-a big dusty man wearing a
new and absurdly small derby hat
stopped with his hand on the hitching
post before the News and retorted:
Gee. I wish I had a dog!"
and yelled. And the big dusty mar
took his hand and he yelled.
Wiley old tope"
"Rube. you old sIndian!"
RUDE grinned all over his swarthy
face. odd top. how are your"
High. wide and handsome!"
You don't look that last, Wiley.
How's the old lady?"
Aunt Abby's fit as silk. Come up
to dinner"
II intended to. Hey. the kids still
playing ball or the lot like they did
when I was a kidd"
Season closed, RUDE? Where did
your bunch wind up?'
In the cellar. I'm through with the
game, Wiley. I can't throw to second
no more. My arms all in. No more
of this bush league ball for me. Car
michael's still go that job for me
chambermaid to his livery h~orses?"
Mr.. Curran laughed sorrowfully. So
did RUDE Van Hart. He rubbed his big
red hands and then a telltale red nose
and looked down at the town kids who
had assembled to gaze in awe. One
raced off to the high schol practice to
spread the news: "EIi, Rube Van Hart
has got back!"
Everybody knew RUDE. Poor old
Rube! The whole nation knew Rube a
while back-let's see. Was it with the
utation! There We're other mighty
men now. RUDE had gone back to the
bush"
Next spring" went on the former
Lacquer, 'Pll stay and coach the high
school bunch, Wiley"
you won't" smiled the editor
when you begin to read the Sunday
down in San Antonio. you'll be miss.
ing some fine morning. Gone to help
break in the Cub recruits, and Their
you'll play the season with the Cotton
league or the Three-C."
N more. Here's my finish, Wiley
right here where I learned the game
next the News lot. Back in the ole
town where you come back, too, Wiley
Back where We was kids together"
The editor looked wistfully across
the court house square. The big lea.
guer's glance followed. A bar OF the
sunset lighted the dingy old cour,
house. The windows were open. From
the court room above came the voice
OF some lawyer droning his plea to
farmer Jury. In an office on the lower
floor one could see q oma bent Sc
riously w a desk, Uttered with pa
pers and reports.
THE old red, west side school," mur-
INJURED RUDE. And there's Janet Vance
and now she's county superintendent
and I'm all in, and you're a fool edi-
tor. That girl got ahead Of us all
Wiley. since we vas kids together"
Wiley sighed. He pulled his short
brown beard, that Vandyke which, IL
Rome. lent him a foreign air and gave
him the reputation Of being literary
whatever hat meant Nobody, not even
the fool editor. knew exactly. Yet no.
body was afraid of Mr.. Curran. The
kids spoke Of him as wiley: all the
old women came in to tell him thei,
neighborhood troubles; and on Higt
street the best families ignored him
even with their irritated feeling that
on points Of the worldly manner he was
infinitely better versed than they. and
that he was laughing at them. 1t was
known hat Mr.. Curran had beer tc
Europe. 1t was rumored that he ha6
been in jail. One can learn a deal in
each. Mr.. Curran, it seems. had learned
to laugh.
Continued iext week.)