Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1913-11-23

come with me, cut out the BOOZE and I'll
give you boost with the chief. Will you
Gomez | leave in half an hour
"No, l won't come
THE reply was petulant in its positiveness,
and the conversation drifted into per
sonal channels that no longer interested
William Bur1nah Jones, who had suddenly
showed his hat to the back of his head, lean
ing his elbows and arms on the marble
topped table in front of him, and begun
drumming upon it with his fat fingers. What
he had heard was galloping through his head,
and he was shrewdly drawing conclusions
and formulating plans.
He reached a pudgy finger over to the
pushbutton in the upholstered wall beside
him, and pressed it. Then the finger slipped
back into his vest pocket, fumbled therein,
produced a five-dollar bill, and wadded it be-
fore the waiter appeared.
Bring me plain settler water, he said,
and then, as the waiter started to hurry
away, "But hold on a minute He leaned
closer to him and smiled and whispered,
whats the name of that long haired archi
tect-engineer chap that | see around? |
think he's in the next stall behind me here.
"His names Fred Hubbard" whispered
the waiter into Burmahs ear "He's queer
guy. Got crack in his punkin. Wants to
make towns look right. Tried it on Seattle;
but they didn't fall for his graft"
"Good! You VIM said Burmah, showing
the bill toward him. @Pay for this decoction
of slough water, and keep the change
Even as the waiter hurried away Jones
was pulling his stubby legs into shape and
scrambling out rom behind the table. He
rose, and with a pretense of looking at
ticker at the end of the room walked past the
place where the engineers were talking. He
started as if surprised, halted at the end of
the table, rested his pudgy knuckles on it,
and said:
Excuse me- You are Mr. Frederick
Hubbard, amt you? My names William
Burmah Jones. | heard you lecture once
on this scheme of maxim towns look good.
I've tried to paint some of EN- myself; but
they never stood for it. But like your idea
I've always wanted to have talk with you,
my boy. Might be you and me could do
some business
He stared steadily at Hubbard, who, as if
gratihed by even SO small a recognition,
stood up to shake hands. He would have
introduced Burmah to the engineer; but the
latter, discovering his necessity for haste,
bruskly passed it over, babe his classrnate
goodby after once more urging him to drop
the idea of cities beautiful, and gave an adj
dress, which Hubbard wrote down, and Jones
memorized, and made his departure.
Jones took the vacant seat, and ordered
some more settler water for himself, and
something stronger for Hubbard, and tact
fully led him on to discourse of his ideals
An attentive listener was Burmah Jones;
but his eyes were either appraising or medi
tative as he sat there beside the table ever
lastingly chewing or rolling his cigar. Some
times he studied the face across from him,
which was fired with enthusiasm as its
owner talked. Here and there fell a word
of adroit fattery, so subtle as to be almost a
caress, and then suddenly the masterful man
leaped out from behind the fat as his APP
praisement was complete.
@The trouble with you, Hubbard, is that
you're boozer! You drink too much!'
Purposely he had fired this shot of an
tagonism, and he watched the other man
straighten himself to semblance of dignity;
but he gave him no time to protest.
"Don't try to tell me you ANTI he
snapped. al know. | can read the signs as
plain as if they was crossin' board for a
railroad which said, Lookout for the engine!
I've got a job of survevin '-nothin' else for
you, maybe! Understand that? Maybe
If you make good, and things go right, you
might get chance to show us some of this
city beautiful rot. But you'll have to do
the work for small pay, and cut this stuff
out"