The Lambertville record. [volume] (Lambertville, N.J.) 1872-1968, 1920-07-16
By Oney Fred Sweet


lumber-wagon goes rumblin' along, an
could see Hard-Faced Mike recol.
lected the rumble-a farmer driviE'
home from town
Seventeen years had suddenly drop.
ped off of Hard-Faced Mike; a sew
enteen-year growth of scales and for
the minute cleared away from his
eyes, and his heart was poundin' hard
against the eventeen-year-thick cal
lous about it.
The cynical squint was all gone as
he followed the antics of the young
savages in the d1nky crick, and lis
tened to the new kind of lingo they
babbled when they came out on the
bank to dress.
Can you pick 'em all out?" 1 asks,
the old gang?"
He didn't answer. He was watchin'
the kid with cow-lick in his whitish
hair, that had made the dive from
the bank
You could see the kids muscles
ripple beneath his shoulders that was
particularly sunburnt on top when he
used his arms to brush his hair back
smooth, like the gents in the collar
advertisements. His clothes wasn't
much when he came to put 'em OF,
but somehow there was a college boy
hang to his ACKNOWLEDGED pants.
You could notice his voice, when
he Joined in the babble, hadn't fully
got past the stage of havin' a break
in it.
1t seemed so ALFRED easy for that
gang to laugh, but there was mighty
few of their jokes that we had the
key to. We was like foreigners in a
strange country. The gangs who
cares-about-you" attitude seemed to
sort O. hurt Hard,Faced Mike They
had stolen his old haunts as if he and
his gang had never originally ruled
over 'em.
He watches 'em wistfully when
they flies out down the path that takes
'em over the dusty road toward town
stoppin' every now and then to pick
green gooseberries, or to throw a
stick at squirrel.
We sat on the bank of the crick a
long time after the gang had drifted
out of sight between the low-branched
plum and choke-berry trees. Grooves
in Hard-Faced Mikes brain that had
been cobwebbed over for seventeen
years was suddenly gettin' active.
What you thinkin' about?" l asks
And what do you suppose that old
barrel-house bum answers?
81 wonder who's playin' wild the ole
red carnelian now" he says, chs
one / used to win marble games with
back of the school-house? Hank Kleir
and the Mcneil kids an Jim Writ an
Earne Sopere always thought that Ca
nick was charmed. An then there
was that catapult l made. l hunted
all spring to find the right kind OF
a crotch, and l picked a whole flour
sack full of maple seeds to pay for
the rubbers, but pecked crow with
it out of the top of one of old man
Harlow's poplar trees"
He don't say anything for just n
minute, and then he goes on:
81 guess l told you back in the
road" he says, about the crowd that
was down to the depot platform that
mornin' when Company D left to take
part in the Spanish-American. The
band was playin' and the town was
crowded around the depot, clear back
as far as Shane's coal-shed, and some
of 'em was standin' on top of box
cars. You'd outght've seen us goin'
aboard in our blue uniforms, with the
heavy equipment rolled in blankets
over our shoulders. l was the first
sergeant. Everybody was cryin' anG
carryin' on and the fellows was all
givin' the girls brass buttons off their
coats TO be turned into hatpins. Wed
been loafn around town dressed in
our uniforms all week, and say-we
were some strong with the girls.
MninnG thaV canned
us in the cattle barns on the State
fair grounds, and finally they shipped
us on down to Chickamaugua. Earue
Sopere and a bunch of us was out on
the train platform singin' ON the
Banks of the Wabash Far Away when
we rode across the river in the moon
light, and then after we got in GeoI-
gia everybody started gettin' letters
from home, and L"
you got that one from the hired
girl" 1 finishes.
The old squirt comes into his eyes
again.
81 didn't nave to come back with the
bows that fall" he mumbles. Il
guess / showed her and everybody
that. l guess proved to her that |
wasn't quite so easy"
After while he looks over the
edge of the bank, an when he did So
he sort O. stared l guess it had
shrunk for him again back into a
dinky little crick. He was just tired
again-just tired and disguised.