Bisbee daily review., 1918-10-06
A ROUGH COOK SEEKS
 A BOUCHER GAME


 When the telegraph editor went off on a deer hunt in the Chiracahuas it became inevitable that the newspaper man should sit in on the night trick in his place. Well, the other night when this newspaper man went over to the restaurant to get his midnigh. lunch he was more impressed with two types of the night crew on this provision ship than he was with the pies and the steak. The waiter who came to take his order was only a boy and he had an ingenious, smil- ing, youthful face that had as yet lost but little of it's fresh innocence. And the cook, to whom this order was conveyed, while not old by any means, had lost the look of youthful innocence from his face, if man might judge from outward limbs and fourishes In fact this cook looked "Hard!" He had a rough face; rough as a ducks foot. A scowl, frown and a menace chased each other across this face like shadows on a summer day across a ploughed field.
 Two eggs, turned over easy" was the newspaper mans order to the youthful waiter. It was duly forward ed to the cook, in a mild, soft tone, at his range further up the counter Have them turned over artistically." |" added the newspaper man with a grin, after noting the cooks rugged face and swashbuckling air. The waiter boy smiled and tackled this gay and fluttering tailpiece on to the order The cook snorted like a horse and spluttered like the backfire of a de- fective exhaust. just as the newspaper man knew he would do when the after thought was added to the order That cook! he was a joy and delight He rumbled in half restrained convulsions like a young volcano. He grabbed his frying pan like a doughboy grabs a bayonet His scowl nearly extingu- ished the blue gas flame under the eggs When he advanced to the counter with a plate it was as though he stormed a trench. When he called to the waiter the paint on the ceiling curled up and the street car trolley in front of the restaurant jumped the wire
 But the eggs were turned over ar tistically all right The cook had af- fected tc despise the finer arts, and yet he practiced them.
 While the newspaper man absorbed his eggs and coffee another customer and guest at this inn of the Lions Head engaged the cook in conversa- ton. It was about the war of course, and right here the cook had a griev- ance.
 q tried to get in the marines" he complained. "and they turned me down. Then l tried the navy and they showed me back. I tried the army and they gassed me and threw me in the ditch. But maybe I'll get in on the next draft"
 The customer said something sar- castic about the cooks prowess and the good luck of the U. s. service in es- caping the handicap of the cooks pres ence in it's midst. It was hot repartee. alright and barbed and poisoned at the point, and the newspaper man eX- pected another explosion like unto the one that destroyed Messines Ridge. But instead, the cook smiled. And such a smile, on such a face. The miracle of such a product from such Ia soil. That ferOcious face broke up into pleasant little wrinkles like sun shine on a battle ground.
 This cook was pleased, impossible as such a phenomena might seem, when one contemplated his awful frown and apparently deep seated grouch against the world
 "Ah, g'wan!" said the cook in growl- ing tones while the smile deepened and broadened Quit yer kiddin'. I'm serious about it. want to git into dis war. An I'm gonna do it too; watch my starshells when | set out. If they'd taken me in the navy I'd been a commodbre by the end of the war but now, in the bloody infantry, I'm gonna try fer to be a buck sergeant and boss and boot such fellers as you all over the cantonments and that there place in Pick-ard-ee.'
 The newspaper man paid for his eggs and went away. and as he left the smile had not yet retreated from the cooks rough and rugged face and his debate with the sarcastic and scornful customer was still in full swing. but he stood in different light from that in which he appeared before A cook with a scowl and a skillet is one thing and cook with smile and