Forest City press. (Forest City, Potter County, D.T. [S.D.]) 1883-19??, 1914-03-06

I they We're off down the road at full
tilt. 1 ran a block after them. but. Of
course. that was useless. There was
nothing to do but go back to the hotel
and wait.
Mental Picture Causes Burns to Laugh.
The whole affair had been an exas-
perating fiasco, and l waited in the
MOTEL office" %glowering at my news
p and swallowing my wrath-until
the n storm broke. 1t came with
a torrent Of rain and a small whirl-
wind. l looked u at the drenched
Street, swimming in a driven down
pour. and suddenly / began to laugh.
The idlers in the hotel office turned to
stare and grin at me. The proprietor
came over to me, smiling expectantly.
What's the joker
thrust the paper at him. Here" 1
chuckled; read that. I'm going to
bed. Give me a ROOM"
And was lying on my bed-in the
dark. fully dressed. except for O
and coat. chortling at the roar and
the office down stairs. were still hunt
ing through the pages of the newspaper
for the joke that had Frustrated me.
You see. I had figured that Fidd's
counterfeiters wern't counterfeiters at
all, but confidence men. They wanted
ONO& wv OlI ny llllIlSSll W1lI IllS
$2oO, and get 1t away from him with
the green goods" bunco game. That's
why l told him not to bring any money
with him.. And that's why l wanted
MIN to make them come to the hotel,
and why l warned him to look at the
check letters on the supposedly count
erIelt money-because. unless it vas
counterfeit. the check letters would be
different on the different bills.
He hadn't done anything that I told
MIN, except that he had come without
ms $3.50. was picturing what would
happen to him. out there in the rain.
when those two crooks found that he
had been bluffing them-that he had
not brought his money with him!
My picture materialized in the early,
drizzltng dawn, when Fidd made his
way back to the American House with
the aid of the town marshal. He a
lost his hat, his coat, and one of his
shoes. The other was on his foot: but
the laces had been cut and he dragged
his foot in it gingerly. One trouser
leg had been split tt the knee. His
collar was gone and his pale blue neck
tie hung down between his shoulder
nlades. His shirt had been torn open
IN front. and he held up his rousers
by the waistband as he walked. He was
mud from his heels to his hair. smoth-
cred In 1T. and as wet as If he had been
dragged from a fish pond. Where the
rain had washed him. he showed blood
and bruises. One eye was swollen
smut. An ear was skinned. His nose
had been bleeding.
Summoned by the proprietor in his
night clothes, 1 found this amazing
wreck of a man huddled shivering in a
chair, smearing feebly at his muddied
face with a torn shirt sleeve. and try
ing to get his stckinged foot up on the
rung of his chair out of h pool Of
cold water that had dripped from him
on the floor. He looked up at me pa
t~het1cally. you were right, MIR.
Burns" he said, almost with dignity.
You We're right. I'm no detectives"
with that, he began to weep.
l helped him upstairs, rolled him in
a blanket, and put him to bed. The
proprietor brought him a drink from
the bar. The marshal went for q doc
tor.
While we were waiting for the ply
sfcian to diagnose his bruises, he old
his story with his teeth chattering.
The two men had driven him out
into h country, in spite of his pro-
tests, and when they had arrived at
darkness and %desolation they demand
ed his money. He said he had none.
fought. They dragged him from the
carriage. beat him until he begged for
mercy, n then stripped him to find
where he had his $3.50 concealed.
IL the storm had not interrupted
them, they would probably have left
him naked. AS it was, they had
searched him to the skin, and when
they had satisfied themselves that he
was penniless, they had relieved their
disappointment by giving him another
beating, n had driven off at full
speed in the rain with most of his
clothes.
When you go after criminals you're
not hunting jackrabbits: you're trying
to catch something more dangerous
than any wild beast there is. Fidd
hadn't thought of that. He had the
usual idea that when you run down
your man. you slap him on the
wrist and say: "Tag!" And he says:
Well. I'm 1t. How did you know?'
And then you sit down and tell me
how you did 1t. And he says: You're
a wonder. You've made me look like
80 cents. Please let me hide my NOR
~tif1cation in the nearest jail"
AS a matter Of fact, they hadn't in
jured Fidd seriously. They had done
him good. They had cured him of the
delusion that he was a detective. The
doctor patched him up, and I took him
back to D. I never heard of him
afterwards. And l don't think the
Secret Service eve did.
Copyright, 1913, by w. j. Burns:
Some Corn Growers.
With q ShOu{u~ ne Ing h,,,hn,. 4 -