The Farmington times. (Farmington, St. Francois County, Mo.) 1905-1926, 1915-02-26

could not / waved my hand. II
seemed to me that the man looked at
me. but he did not appear to wave,
Then | laid my hand on my arms
there in the saddle. | was afraid to
look again, for / knew it was an hallu.
cination, and | knew that If | looked
the man would be gone. And so pre-.
cious was the hallucination that ]
wanted it to persist yet little while.
l knew, too. that as long as | did not
look it would persist.
Thus remained, until l heard my
dogs snarling, and mans voice. What
do you think the voice said? | will
tell you. 1t said; Where in hell did
you come FROM"
Those were the words, the exact
words. That was what your grand
father said to me, Hare-Lip, when he
greeted me there on the shore of Lake
Temescal flfty-seven years ago. And
they were the most ineffable words |
have ever heard. | opened my eyes,
and there he stood before me, large,
dark, hairy man, heavy jawed, slant
browed, fierce eyed. How | got off
my horse | do not know. But it
seemed that the next | knew was
clasping his hand with both of mine
and crying | would have embraced
him, but he was ever a narrow-mind-
ed, suspicious man, and he drew away
from me. Yet did | cling to his hand
and cry"
Granser's voice faltered and broke
at the recollection, and the weak tears
streamed down his cheeks while the
boys looked on and giggled
Yet did cry" he continued. land
desire to embrace him, though the
Chauffeur was brute, perfect brute
the most abhorrent man have ever
known. His name was strange,
how / have forgotten his name.
Everybody called him Chauffeur-it
was the name of his occupation, and
it stuck. That is how, to this day.
the tribe he founded is called the
Chauffeur tribe.
He was a violent, unjust man.
Why the plague spared him | can
never understand. 1t would seem. in
spite of our old metaphysical notions
about absolute justice, that there is
no justice in the universe. Why did
he live?-an iniquitous, moral mon
ster, blot on the face of nature, a
cruel, relentless, bestial cheat as well.
All he could talk about was motor
cars, machinery, gasoline, and garage
and especially with huge delight, Of
his mean pilferings and sordid swim
dlings of the persons who had en-
ployed him in the days before the
coming of the plague, And yet he was
spared, while hundreds of millions,
yea, billions. of better men we're de-
stroyed.
Il went on with him to his camp,
and there l saw her, Vesta, the one
woman. 1t was glorious and 49,. :.
pitiful. There she was, Vesta Van
Warden, the young wife of John Van
Warden, clad in rags, with marred and
Scared and toil-calloused hands, bend
ing over the campfire and doing soul
lion work-she, Vesta, who had been
born to the purple of the greatest
baronage of wealth the world had
ever known. John Van Warden, her
husband, worth one billion eight hun
dred millions, and president of the
Board of Industrial Magnates, had
been the ruler of America. Also. sit
ting on the Industrial Board of Con-
troll, he had been one of the seven
men who ruled the world. And she
herself had come of equally noble
stock. Her father, Philip Saxon, had
been President of the Board of Indus
trial Magnates up to the time of his
Heath, THIS Office was in process of
becoming hereditary, and had Philip
Saxon had son that son would have
him. But his only child |
was Vesta, the perfect flower of gen
erations of the highest culture this
planet has ever produced. 1t was
lot until the engagement between
vesta and Van Warden took place that
Saxon indicated the latter as his sue.
lessor. 1t was, ] am sure, political
marriage. / have reason to believe
hat Vesta never really loved her hus.
,and in the mad, passionate way of
which the poets used to sing. 1t was
more like the marriages that OBJ
aimed among crowned heads before
hey were displaced by the Magnates.
And there she was. boiling fish
howder in soot-covered pot her
lorious eyes infiamed by the acrid
moke Of the open fire. Here was
ad story. She was the one survivor
a million. as had been. as the
'hauffeur had been. On a browning
minence of the Alameda Hills. over
boxing San Francisco Bay, Van
Warden had built vast summer pal
ce. It was surrounded by park Of