East Oregonian : E.O. (Pendleton, OR) 1888-current, 1918-07-09

setneF. II napDenet
T. IN a little French town that was known tt
the world long before France was re
public and before America was discovered
Cormac Sullivan had received his weeks
pay, and having handed over subscrip
tion to the Liberty Loan he left the bar
racks in which he was quartered with
The intention of spending all the money
that remained to him. Needless to say
he went into the first cafe and sat down
ht table and called to the womanibehind
ahe bar, Belgian refugee who had been
CHASED out of her own country by the
/ Germans at the outbreak Of war.
At ''Vin rouge" he ordered.
The woman filled glass with the usual
i enffrely innoeuous brew, Of which a man
ls@ould drink a bucketful, and brought it
along, placing it in front of the.American.
~Combien?" he inquired.
sTen cents" she replied.
Cormac slipped his wine and thought of
the days when he worked in Kelly's
saloon in Kew York city, white jacketed,
shrewd and level headed bartender who
one day hoped to have a business of his
own and a wife of his own, il But
why should We pry into the civil affairs
of Cormac Sullivan, who now as a soldier
had sworn to fight for America on the
battlefields Of France? If his duty in a
world war was of interest to bis country,
his love affairs were certainly a private
matter. and. like state secrets, not to be
spoken of in public.
Suddenly Cormac became conscious Of
h pair of eyes fixed on him, and he looked
up at the man who was serutinizins him
EIe was an American soldier who had just
come in, a tall, broad shouldered man.
clean shaven and gray eyed. In the look
which he fixed on Cormac Sullivan there
sras curious blending Of aggression and
inquiry.
"Say, Bub, you're the man that was out
en the wiring party the other night?' the
Stranger asked
81 was out there" said Comac.
sand went out in the morning to carry
kn the officer that was left lying wounded
lon the fieldg'
81. was the first to see him." said Cor
thnac. dispsraGing an action which had
Aeen the talk of the battalion for few
hours But now Cormac's deed. the crawl
l@uf from the trenches under heavy ma
inbia. EuB fire 10 help an officer and
carr him into safety, was practically
fsrE tten. In war and among men who
nv fighting daily. daring big things and
Ae' cmplishing marvels, such actions are
of common occurrence and seldom call
for special comment.
"My names Stanton said the strsn-
ger coming forward and seating himself
nt the table. "Dick Stanton. Scaler with
Riffer & vanlips' people of Sksginaw."
Timber" Sullivan inquired.
2 "Rigbt," Stanton replied. "Have been
OF il for years. was born in Boston"
p 81 know that quarter" said third man
who was seated at a table near by. As
he spoke he got to his feet, came across
and sat down by Sullivan. took off HIS
broad brimmed campaigning hat and
placed it on the table He was hand
some man. just in his early twenties, with
areamy eyes. finely chiselied nose. and
tlie line Of his jaw clear cut and fine
Il know Boston," he repeated. shaking
kis head as II Boston had awakened bit
tcr memories in his mind. I've shov-
alled snow from its streets and got
showed out Of the place when the job
eras done. Ny name is Ronar. by pro-
fession a tramp. by desire poet, by 40
Rpmplishment Nobody"
''oh. cut it outT7 said the man from
1iffer & vanlips'.
.sTIaro. you even struck New York;
sullivan inquired
I've struck it." said Ronar, ''but ]
asaf belong there. I'm an American. not
. localized town dwellcr You are New
Gsrkcr, your friend Bostonian, but J.
ubq know no town as ny natiTe place