Bisbee daily review., 1913-11-05

He shut the door behind him and came over to the fire
 "i'm pretty well frozen" he said, Don't be astonished if melt before your eyes; I've been walking for hours"
 Now that had better chance to see him I'd sized up that drawn look around his mouth.
 Missed your luncheon, suppose. Q I said. poking the fire log. He grinned rather sheepishly.
 Well. ! haven't had any. and I've certainly missed it. he said. Fast. ing's healthy. you know"
 ''Nothing's healthy that isn't nat ural," l declared. If you'd care for dish of buttered and salted popcorn, there's some on the mantel. It's pretty salty: the idea is to make folks thirsty so they'll enjoy the mineral water"
 Think of raising a thirst only to drown it with spring waterl" he said But he got the popcorn and he ate it all If he hadn't had any luncheon he hadn't had much breakfast The queer part was--he was a gentleman i; his clothes were the right sort. bat he had on patent leather shoes in all that snow and an automobile cap.
 l put away the glass while he ate. Pretty soon he looked up and the drawn lines were gone. He wasn't like MT. Dick, but be was the same type. only taller and heavier built.
 And so 1t isn't hotel, he remarked Well, I'm sorry. The caravansary in the village is not to my liking, and had thought of engaging a suite up here. My secretary usually attends to these things. but-don't take away all the glasses, Heb-I beg your pardon but the thisst is coming"
 He filled the glass himself and then he came up and stood in front of me, with the glass held up in the air.
 ITO the best woman l have met in many days" he said. not mocking but serious. T was about to lie down and let the little birds cover me with leaves" Then he glanced at the empty dish and smiled. ITO buttered pop. corn! Long may it wave!" he said, and emptied the glass.
 Well, I found a couple of apples fin my pantry and brought them out, and after he ate them he told me what had happened to him. He had been a little of everything since he left col. lege-he was about twenty-hye-had crossed the Atlantic in a cstboat and gone with somebody or other into some part of Africa-they got lost and had 10 eat each other or lizards. or something like that-and then he went to the Philippines. and got stuck there and had to sell books to get nome. He had little money, enough for a grub-stake." he said. and all his folks were dead. Then a college friend of hie wrote rural play called Sweet Peas"-"Great title, don't you think?' he asked-and he put up all the money. It would have been a hit, be said, but the kid in the play-the one that unites its parents in the last act just before he dies of tuberculosis-the kid took the humps and looked as if. in- stead of fading away, he was going to blow up. Everybody was so afraid l of him that they let him die alone foI three nights int the middle of the stage. Then the leading woman took ! the humps, and the sheriff took ey erything else.
 Well, of course. the thing failed and he lost every dollar he'd put into 1t, which was all he had, including | what he had in his pockets.
 They seized my trunks" he ex plained, "Rnd sold my fur-lined over coat for eight dollars. which took one Of the girls back home. It's hard fol the women A fellow can always ge some sort of a iob-I was coming u here to see if they needed an extrt clerk or a waiter, or chauffeur, or any l thing that meant a roof and something to eat-but I suppose Eey don't neet a tack-of-all-trades"
 No I answered, "but I'll tell yoI what think they're going to need And that's an owner!"
 l I'm not making excuses. did 1t fol the best. If MT. Thoburn had not beer there. sitting by to see the old sana torium die so 1t could sprout wing and fly as a summer hotel, I'd neye have thought of it. But was in de spalr.