Bisbee daily review., 1913-07-20

T have had hard luck" said the Watermelon -'How's Bslly?"
 Pretty well, thanks
 Expecting me?" asked the Water. melon, taking of his hat and gently batting his back hair as he had a way of doing.
 Bartlett nodded. "Yes, but not ex- actly as you are"
 Its tough on the little girl" nut tered the Watermelon. He sank into & chair and stretched out his long legs with the weather-stained trousers and dirty, broken shoes. "Oh, mamma, I'm tired. Been hoofing it since sun. up yesterday with hardly stop. l wanted to see the kid so.''
 Well. go and get drunk" returned Bartlett. And then you can see her"
 The Watermelon frownAd. See here. I don't drink. necessarily. I'm not brand to be pIucked from the burning, sheep strayed from the fold The whisky bottle wasn't my undoing and didn't make me take to the highway. I'm not fallen. l was always down, l guess. hate work like leisure and time to develop my own soul" He waved his hand in airy imitation of James.
 That's all right" said Bartlett. i But get drunk. If she can stand you soused, she can stand you sober She has got to know what she's getting. if she decides to take you after all"
 The Watermelon's tired face grew bit whiter under the tan and beard. He shrugged hopelessly and rose "AH { right, if you say so. I hope to hell it will kill her love on the spot and she won't suffer for it afterward. I sup pose 1t will" He started for the door and paused, one hand on the knob. Shall l have 1t on you?" he asked with a smile. I'm broke"
 Bartlett tossed him bill. "Is that enough?''
 Yes" said the Watermelon and slipped it into his pocket.
 Have one with me before you go," said Bartlett. pushing glass and the ! bottle across the table.
 The Watermelon filled his glass and raised 1t. "To Billy" said he.
 'To Billy's happiness" amended Bartlett.
 Maine is prohibition state, but the i Watermelon had been there before | and knew just where and how to ob- tain what he was looking for. With | the bottle in his pocket. he sought the beach and made his way up it to some secluded place where he could drink in peace and. cut of the heat of the | sun.
 . As the day advanced, the sun crept ! around the headland until fl streamed I unchecked upon the Watermelon, | sprawled, drunk and warm and dirty | in the lee of the rocks. The combined 1 heat of the sun and the poison he had | in him, called by courtesy whisky, ] grew unbearable, and he rose in dT,zaken majesty to find some cooler ! place. Ths sun would soon have i thrown long shadows on the beach, | but the Watermelon could not wait ] for that. He must get cool at once, | and in the waves splsshing. gurgling, ] laughing, breaking at his very feet, | he found a suggestion. Where could | one get cool if not in the sea itself? ! A steam yacht far away like a streak of white, was seen. creeping slowly landward, but the Watermelon did not trouble about such thing. He began T to undress, solemnly. stubbornly, with the one thought to get cool
 
 | The yacht, Mary Gloucester, was a gay little bark, all ivory white and shining brass work. A brightly striped awning covered the deck. there were large, comfortable chairs, with many II colored pillows and ribbons and chintz, and daintily arranged tables to assuage ones thirst and offsr cooling bodily comfort on a hot day.
 The Mary Gloucester was named Il after a poem of Kipling's, and her owner was explaining this fact, er- sconced gracefully, if solidly, in g many-cushioned chair, her feet bit awkwardly on the rest before her, a fan in one hand and a small fat,
 white, woolly dog on her lap. his fore feet on the railing, his mouth open and bis tiny red tongue Tapping moist
 ly from between his teeth III Whom do you love the more,
 asked Bertie Van Baalen, "Kipling or
 this angel child?" and Bertie sought
 to pull enc fiuffy white ear near his
 hand. But the little dog sHarled an grily and snapped sharply a. the hastily withdrawn fingers. "Ah, the duckems, naughty man shan't tease him." crooned the lady,
 shaping at Bertie with the fan, while
 the little dog turned again to the sea
 Yes, indeed. Mrs. Armitage." said Henry Bliven solemnly. Tell us
 truthfully. whom do you love the bet ter. Kipling or the blessed duckems 2 Think" warned Rertie, before
 you answer. Kipling. great poet
 author of sentiments that will stiI
 mankind for all ages. sentiments thai
 will ennoble, strengthen"
 Do you know" confessed the
 widow with the gleeful naivete of a
 child, T like Kipling because he's SC
 bad He says such wicked things.'
 She nodded and glanced audaciously
 from one youth to the other. ! Henry reached 'wearily for his glass on the table beside him and Bertie
 Van Baalen sighed heavily. "YoJ