The gazette-times. [volume] (Heppner, Or.) 1912-1925, 1914-12-03
PIE CHIEF OF POLICE frowned

WCI otOAy. 6o AcdAu ~ Alduy oIOAACo
like it And women were so vague
and inexplicit! How could he be e1-
pected to keep track Of all the curly
haired. b~lue-eyed. rosy-cheeked boys
who wore bluestriped waists. red
ties and brown knickerbockers?
We're there not a million Of them.
more or less. running loose, running
Wild. running away. in Los Angeles
Pvery day? One would think so after
going the rounds Of the moving pic
ture. shows, the baseball parks and
the circus grounds. And here this
i%mplorins. excited. red-eyed female
expected him to find her boy on the
instant and from this meager, in
definite description.
Il will do the best l can for you,
madam. said the chief, trying to hide
his impotence, "but you have told
me nothing that will help me to iden-
tify the boy"
The woman looked at him in dazed
Astonishment. Perhaps he hadn't
been listening. She would tell 1t all
over again.
II said," she began, that Billy
had light. curly hair. real golden
hair. and big blue eyes. and"
eyes, yes" broke in the chief. un-
able to conceal his Impotence long
4, chats the description you moth
Hrs always give. A regular little an
Eel-cherub sort. More likely he's a
snub-nosed. f~reckle-faced, watery-
eyed carrot-top! Bring a picture Of
him, madam-that's the only way
you can make me understand what
b looks like"
"Oh. but l have no picture. and
hey have always found him before!"
the woman sobbed. 1t had been one
nf her keenest sorrows that she
never had felt she could spare the
money to have a photograph made
Of her beautiful boy. And he WAS
beautiful. Other people told her SO.
Some said he looked like Byron. and
some said he had the spirituelle
beauty of Shelley, and once, when
she had had him dressed in his Lord
Fauntleroy suit, an artist had told
her that the boy looked as if he had
stepped out of a Van Dyke portrait.
And yet. in spite of all of his noble,
distinctive individuality, she could
not convey the slightest conception
Of his appearance to another. And
In her heart his image was so vivid.
and the desire to transmit 1t so in
tense, that it seemed to her the very
intensity of that yearning would
flash 1t to the man by mental trans
ference.
The woman covered her face with
her hands and kept helplessly. And
the man, who had not been moved
by her voice or her tears or the
pleading in her eyes, thrilled with a
strange sort Of interest and pity
when he saw her hands. They were
hands that did not match her face.
It was haggard and faded and full
Of lines. Her eyes had no life in
them, and a stringy mat of washed
out, colorless hair aged her more
than If it had been gray. 1t was a
face where hope had died and Joy
had never yet been born. But the
hands were the hands Of an artist.
Strong, capable hands with long.
tapering fingers. The time and the
toll that had roughened them had in
no way marred their beautiful con
tour, and in them there was an ap-
peal which stirred the chief strange
".
HAS the boy hands like yours!"
he found himself asking her.
In the tone Of his voice there was
the masculine ascent Of approval and
admiration, never lost on the femin-
Inc ear. and in a pleased sort Of
eagerness she replied:
"Oh, yes, unusually long fingers,
but not brown and rough like mine
pink and white and with beauu-
fully kept nails"
"Well," thought the chief, "that
Is one distinctive feature, at least. A
boy Of 8 with manicured nails isn't
to be found by the million"
Speaking to the woman in a
kinder tone and giving her some as