Ladysmith news-budget. [volume] (Ladysmith, Rusk County, Wis.) 1907-1927, 1919-02-28

Tom Hardin ne had knowkil The sis.
ter had told him so, the girl with the
odd bronze eyes; opal matrix they
were, with glints of gold, or was it
green? She herself was as unlike the
raw boor of his memory as noun
tain lily is like the coarse rock OF its
background. Even half-sister to
Hardin, as Marshall, their host at din
ner the week before, had explained
it--no. even that did not explain it.
That any of the Hardin blood should
be shared by the veins Of that girl,
why it was incredible! The name
Hardin" suggested crudity, loud
mouthed Dragging; conceit. He could
understand the failure of the river
project since the sister had assured
him that it was the same Tom Hardin
who had gone to college at Lawrence;
had married Gerty Holmes. Queer
business, life, that he should cross,
even SO remotely, their orbits again.
That was chapter he liked to skip.
He walked over to the windows,
shielded by bright awnings, and
looked down on the city where the
next few years Of his life might be
caught. Comforting to reflect that an
engineer is like a soldier, never can
be certain about tomorrow. Time
enough to know that tomorrow meant
Tucson! What was that threadbare
proyerh in the Overland Pacific that
Tod Marshall always keeps his men
until they lose their teeth? That de-
fined the men who made themselves
necessary!
His eyes were resting on the banali-
'old town" of it's flavor. Were it not
for the beauty Of the distant hills, the
jar and rumble Of the trains whose
roar called to nearby pleasure cities,
twinkling lights and crowded theaters,
stretches of parks and recreation
grounds, he, who loved the thrill and
confinement of an engine, who had
found enticement in a desert, a char
ter Of adventure in the barrancas Of
Mexico, would stif1e in Tucson Amer
lean progress was as yet too thin
veneer on Mexican Indifference to
make the place endurable-as city.
I'm good for a lifetime here, if I
want it," his thoughts would work
back to the starting place. ''If l
knuckle down TO it, let him grow to
depend on me, it's as good as settled
that am buried in Tucson" Hadn't
he heard Marshall himself say that he
didn't keep kindergarten-that his
Office wasn't a training school for
menu He wanted his men to stay!
That, one of the reasons of the great
mans power; detail rested on the
shoulders of his employees. 1t kept
his own brain clear, receptive to big
achievements.
perhaps as the work unrolls, as /
see more of what he wants of me, why
he wants me, may like it, I may get
to shout for Tucson" 1t was impos-
sible enough to smile over! Child's
work, compared to Mexico.
The distinction Of serving Marshall
we'll certainly had it's drawbacks. He
wanted to sweep on. Whether he had
a definite terminal, a concrete goal,
had he ever stopped to think? Spe-
cialization had always fascination
for him. 1t was that which had
thrown him out Of his instructorship
into the firebox of western engine.
1t had governed his course at college
to know one thing well, and then to
prove that he knew it we'll! Content
ed in the Mexican barracks, here he
was chatting, FESTIVE, after few
weeks of Tucson. For what was he
getting here? Adding what scrap of
experience to the rounding of his pro-
fession?
Retrospectively engineering could
hardly be said to be the work Of his
choice. Rather had it appeared to
choose him. From boyhood engineers
had always been, to him, the soldiers
of modern civilization. To conquer
and subdue mountains, to shackle wild
rivers, to suspend trestles over dizzy
heights, to throw the tracks Of an adj
vancing civilization along newly
blazed TRAIL there would always be
thrill in it for him. It had changed
the best quarterback Of his high school
into the primmest of students at col
Iege. Only for short time had he let
his vanity sidetrack him. when the
honor of teaching what he had learned
stopped his own progress. A rut!-
He remembered the day when it had
burst on him, the realization of the
rut he was in. He could see his Law
renee schoolroom, could see yet the
face under the red-haired mop belong
ng to Jerry Matson-queer he remem-
oered the name after all those years
He could picture the look of conster-
nation when he threw down his book
and announced his deSertiOn.
He had handed in his resignation
the next day. A month later and he
was shoveling coal on the steep grades
IF Wyoming.
Marshall keeps his men with him."
The engineers glance travelled around
he f1eckless Office. A stranger to Mar
shall would get wrong idea Of the