The producers news. [volume] (Plentywood, Mont.) 1918-1937, 1921-12-23

VoNAAA6Ss 1
The old folks loved their boy too
well to reproach him for his desertion
now In the first flush of his young
manhood, hut their hearts did ache at
thought of the separation.
"YOu'll soon get tired of all that
hurly-burly there in the city, Tom"
his old father told him. "And when
you do, / want you always to remem-
Der that we've still got place for you
back here at the old homestead. 1t
mayn't be as fine and snowy as lots
you'll see there in the city, but It's
more the sort that the good Lord In
tended you for. Ma and I are hoping
the best for you, son, but-when you
do find out that your fortunes not
away or there-just pocket your pride
and come back here to US who love
you"
So young Tom lett the farm with
shining eyes and 4 high heart 9nd ad-
ventured into the great, far-away city
IN quest OF fame and fortune.
How he Jared there and all the sor-
~ disappointments that repeatedly
overlook him during that year OF alb
sence would be long and narrowing
story to tell. He chased his rainbow
to it's end, yet found the tabled pot OF
gold not there as he had so confidently
and blatantly expected.
Tom made applications for all sorts
Of Office positions only to find himself
quickly rejected because of his lack
cf experience In those specific lir
swell, anyway, I'm young and hus-
XIV and used to hard manual labor"
Tom consoled himself. Il can at least
get a job with a contracting gang, as
a painter, or plumbers assistant, or
teamster. That will suffice to keep me
going for while until the sort Of po-
sition l want turns up"
But even in those lines of work the
green country boy found himself sud-
denly brought up short against blank
wall. He had no references as to past
city employment and nobody would
hire him after once finding out that he
had no union card.
Huddled in his shabby overcoat on
a street corner in the squalfd section
of the city-the icy wind whistling
around him and biting through his
threadbare garments-poor Tom stood
on the evening before Christmas, won
dering where he might find shelter
in which to sleep that night without
freezing.
Just how long he had stood there,
shiyering in the chill wind on the
street corner-bitterness against the
great, unfeeling city ranking in his
heart-Tom did not know. He was
startled from his moody reverie by
hearing hoarse, wheeling voice at
his very elbow. saying what was In
tended as a confidential tone:
How'd y'like nice hot feed and
some coin to Jingle in yer pants. DO!
Amt hungry, are ya?'
Whirling about, Tom saw that his
accoster was an understood, burly fel-
low with tough, truculent visage and
hands showed deep into the side peck,
cts of his coat. He wore battered
cap with the visor pulled low down
over his eyes and spat malevolently
upon the sidewalk each time before he
| spoke.
How'd y'like the idea, huh?" he re
iterated in his raucous, grating voice
| siding closer as he spoke and casting
| wary eye up and down the nearl,
deserted, gloomy, wind-swept street.
| Tom regarded him with distaste an6
undisguised mistrust. He looked Like
/ q typical thug. But misery cannot bt
too fastidious about the company i
keeps. Finally Tom scowled black,
and answered:
whats that to you, anyway
"Well, you're outta luck, amt cha
pal? Yer on yer uppers, stony brok'
and maybe with an empty belly, too
huh. bo? Well, / guessed that much
l amt blind yet, I amt! Well,
need a pal for little job tonight ant
we both can make lotta jack out o
1t, seer
'You-you mean burglary?" Tor
muttered hesitantly. with an involun
tary contraction of his heart.
"Humph! Not anything like safe
cracking or breaking into a house,
don't. Too many people staying u
with the kids over Christmas trees t.
night I amt keen on takin' foe
chances like that, I'm tel1in' va! Nav
this / wantcha for is something soft
safe and easy as falling off a log. 70
know the big prices people are willin
to pay for real booze since the cour
try went dry, don't chat Well, RICH
near here I know certain Warehous
that's got 20 cases Of whisky stored 1
the basement Real bonded stuff
| The Waterman is an old pal O. min
! and is willing to let US swipe It