Evening capital news. (Boise, Idaho) 1901-1927, 1919-04-27
By Jack Lait

clothes and whose chin distinguished him
from the Slavs. He had knocked down the
fellow with a neat clip to the Jaw American
fashion.
Only AngloSaxons know how to Il eht with
their fists. Huns and Slovaks and Greeks
and Turks and Mongolians and Iatins have
never learned to make weapons of their
knuckles. These other races are strong. In
rough and tumble rows they are dangerous
But, somehow they cannot stand before the
swing from the hip" which is the Amera.
cans way Of assault
And Bob Hallam proved that for the fallen
rowdy's friends rushed at him. surrounded
him, gesticulated and yelped, and tried to get
him in a hold to throw him. But the light
footed Yank stepped back a pace and struck
out with either hand. And every time his
fist landed a man keeled over or danced back
unsteadily.
Run" he painted to Sabina IN hold
back these buns"
With wan smile OF gratitude the princess
took Father Pokof again by the arm and
they hurried to the gate, through 1t, out Of
the grounds out of the turmoil. and out of
immediate danger, as the whole town had
crowded into the capacious acreage Of the
once royal preserves
Hallam might have found the job he had
cut out for himself beyond even his delft
punches, for the little melee had attracted
others and reinforcements were edging to.
ward this obvious foreigner with the wicked
wallop. But just then a mighty shout from
the heart of the more momentous conflict
at the palace rose, the first official news
new from one to the next that the king was
dead All else forgotten in the freezing
fire that pulsed through the arteries of the
populace at the dread, historic monumental
bewildering, exhilarating intelligence The
vital blow had been struck. They were out.
laws now, outlaws who had violated the con.
stituted authorities and who had now to
fight with their backs to the wall or be
hanged as felons to perpetuate the lesson
of vested majesty.
To Hallam the news was of no petty mo.
ment. either. citizen himself of the worlds
greatest republic, immune against the vicissi.
tudes of the coarse catapulting for freedom
and the hopeless resistance for royalty he
was possessed with the sizzling realization
that another of humanity's manifestations
in its empress toward independence and free.
dom, had TRANSFERRED; that another milestone
in the ambushed Journey to democracy's mil
lennium had been passed in a cloud of blood
that precious fluid which has been SO prodi-
gally spilled in mans stubborn, unending
crusade against mems oppression. He cast
his eyes over the brandishing, bloodthirsty,
caterwauling mob. So this was the destined
instrument of liberty, that keenest and finest
of all mortal inspirations! With red and
dripping hands, these beasts were to be the
forefathers of childrens children yet unborn
The wild hubbub grew denser. The living
symbol of the old order no longer lived. Lib.
erty was king. License his herald In
the wrecked room within lay the limp, life
less, lacerated clay of what had been. On
the sward and the paved walks without
danced and screamed the power that was.
And Bob Hallam. whose work it was to
translate all this that the world might
read and understand, thought Of what was
to be.
He turned to gaze over the little city, be-
yond it into the vegetated hills that glinted
sheen green in the sun. Nature taking
no heed of the gigantic, puny affairs of the
two legged insects. Creatures in gold and
ermine might die, their vanities might van.
ish, new assumptions and Prescriptions
might rise and flourish and. in their time,
in turn, be trampled to death. But the sun
would Snlne on, the little rivers would flow
along, the cataracts would foam and fume
the vast oceans would thunder their majestic
anthems ever to inscrutable. all surviving
nature-that which was created to endure
He turned his glances further. down the
undulating road Two lone figures moved
against the otherwise uniform panorama OF
creation. The shuffiing form of man
whose long garment was pickering the dust
with it's hem and the upright frame of a
young girl in peasant clothes, her head set
rigidly forward. held his scrutiny
And, somehow, this stranger with a mis-
sion, this eyewitness to the inner workings
of a potent paragraph in the most memorable
page of manFinds everlasting fight for
earthly salvation, found all else blurred and
the white light of the most compelling in
terest conferred upon the logically incon-
sequential girl who was walking out of the
classic picture. Who was she? Who could
she be? "bohunk " daughter of some
cowherd. most likely. But why was she
going? Why was she, of all these. her people
from this scene? Yes, she was
different. Hallam had seen her for only a