The Bridgeport times and evening farmer., 1919-07-16
See, Ma, Why Don't We Hav'em Down Our Way i?

had not come to France to meet. Those mountains had to be sur mounted and circumvented and this father, unknown in France, unfa- 1piliar with the language, or the customs, or the laws of the people was there with the determination to overcome them.
 1Se left the Tribune office with let ters and suggested plan of action.
 Failure Does Not Deter Him.
 In week he was back. The plan had failed, but there was no dirni- mutton of the spirit of determina- tion.
 We've just simply got to get Bob. MT Houlihan said and repeated as we met obstacle after obstacle, and although, I had never known the boy in life, I soon found myself rc- ferrins to his body as ''Bob''
 Its mine," MT. Houlihan told me time and again. Its mine, I tell you. It belongs to me-
 The father left Paris again on an other plan that led him frequently back to a little French cemetery on the banks of the Loire and the simple wooden cross that marked the certain grave in Plot Q.
 And then the mountains came down to separate our efforts The destinies of hundreds of millions os people being determined by three men sitting around a table of the Quai DOrsay intervened, and while the cables hummed with their thous- ands of world important words, the little plump "old gent with the damp forehead and the pockets stuffed with documents spent the hours and days and nights travel incr from al other.
 A week ago Saturday night, as I walked up the gang plank of La lorraine lying beside the quay in Havre, I saw him seemingly de- 1ected figure leaning over the shore rail on the promenade deck.
 He recognized me only with wearied. almost 1ifeless, nod that seemed to carry the word failure. He looked away quickly and I was glad because I had no liking to re- mind him of frustrated hopes Lat CT, on deck, in the mustle of de- parture, I saw him walking silently but pulling noisy at the black pipe clenched between his short teeth. Il tried not to think of the mother waiting in Chicago yet everything seemed to remind me of her grief.
 As the lines were cast off La LOT raine, in obedience to the pushing of busy tugs. began to move towards open water. walked an hour in silence with MT. Houlihan on deck.
 Apparently neither of us was of a mind for talking. About midnight we were leaning, side by side, over the stern rail, listening to the pound ing of the propellers as they be- gan the myriad revolutions on the long crossing and watching the har- Dor lights of Havre grow dim in the | distant darkness.
 Both Them No More,
 I could not keep my mind off | Bob" dying back there in France. | Well. we're off," said apropos of nothing
 Yep. said MT. Houlihan. slowly re- moving his pipe. were on our way. hope they are satisfied"
 thought I detected a note of bitterness in his last words, which were directed to the receding shores of that land where heartbroken father had met the mountains.
 But they were all human, MT. Houlihan," I reminded him. 'They wap&ed to help. It was only their orders and the laws they had to re- spect that intervened."
 Well, I'll never bother them again he said with finaIty.
 But after peace is signed" said after it Is all over, then you will go back to France, and 1t will be easy then"
 Back to Life's Memories.
 Never again." said Mir. Houlihan. I'm going back to the little moth CT out on North Austin boulevard | and live out the years in memories." But Bob?" I queried.
 MT. Hou1ihan looked away from | me and over the shoulder that was farthest from me. He Owuug saowly