The Washington herald., 1920-08-02
THE ATAVlSM OF JOHN LITTLE BEAR

amt my name. It's Conyers.
What's the matter with your
And that's not the worst of
it. l went on quick. keeping him
hot and not giving him time to
think. We thought you was from
a nice. well-to-do family. Here's
Mr.. Little Bear, chief of the
Cherokees, entitled to wear nine
other tails on his Sunday blanket
and Prof. Binkly. who plays
Shakespeare and the banjo. and
me, that's got hundreds of dol
lars in that black tin box in the
wagon. and we've got to be care
full about the company we keep.
That man tells me your folks live
way down in little old Hencoop
alley, where there are no side
walks and the goats eat off the
table with you
That kid was almost crying
now. ''Tain't So he splutters.
'He-he don't know what he's
talking about. We live on Poplar
av'noo. I don't 'sociate with
goats. What's the matter with
you?'
Poplar avenue says I. sar-
castle, Poplar avenue! That's
stleet 70 i've on! IL only runs
two blocks and then falls off a
blun. You can throw a keg of
nails the whole length of it. Don't
talk to me about Poplar avenue
It's-it's miles long says the
kid. Our numbers S62 and
there's lots of houses after that.
what's the matter with-aw, you
make me tired, Jeff.'
We'll
guess that man made a mistake.
Maybe it was some other boy he
was talking about. If l catch him
I'll teach him to go around SLAM
dering people, And after supper
! goes up town and telegraphs to
Mrs. Conyers. S62 Poplar avenue,
Quincy. ILL.,, that the kid is safe
and sassy with US, and will be
held for further orders. In two
hours an answer comes to hold
him tight, and she'll start for
him by next train.
The next train was due at
p. M, the next day, and me and
John Tom was at the depot with
the kid. You might scour the
plains in vain for the big Chief
Wish-Heap-Dough. In his place
is Mr.. Little Bear in the human
habiliments of the Anglo-Saxon
sect; and the leather of his shoes
is patented and the loop of his
necktie is copyrighted. For these
things John Tom had grated on
him at college along with meta
physics and the knockout guard
for the low tackle. But for his
completion, which is some yellow
ish. and the black mop of his
straight hair. you might have
thought here was a man out of
the city directory that subscribes
for magazines and pushes the
lawn-mower in his shirt sleeves
of evenings.
Then the train rolled in, and
a little woman in a gray dress,
with sort of Illuminating hair,
slides off and looks around quick.
And the Boy Avenger sees her.
and yells Mamma and she cries
o! and they meet in a clihch,
and now the pesky redskins can
come forth from their caves on
the plains without fear any more
from the rife of Roy, the Red
Wolf. Mrs. Conyers comes up and
thanks me an John Tom without
the usual extremities you always
look for in a woman. She says Just
enough, in a way to convince, and
there is no incidental music by the
orchestra. / made a few illiterate
reQuisitions upon the art of con-
versation, at which the lady smiles
friendly, as IL she had known me
a week And then Mr.. Little Bear
adorns the atmosphere with the
various idioms into which educa-
tion can fracture the wind of
speech. / could see the kids
mother didn't quite place John
Tom; but II seemed she was ap-
prised of his dialects, and she
played up to his lead in the sci
ence of making three words do
the work of one.
That kid introduced us, with
some footnotes and explanations
that made things palmer than a
week of rhetoric. He danced
around, and punched us in the
back, and tried to climb John
Toms leg. This is John Tom,