Shoshone journal. [volume] (Shoshone, Idaho) 1884-1931, 1923-12-07

All over the saloon you could see
falr women and brave men willing in
thelr seats. Imitation. The
word, as Keats would nave said. was
IKE a knelll Many Uf these neonle
were old travellers, and their minds
went back wincingly, as one recalls
forgotten wounds, to occasions when
performers at ships concerts had irni-
lated whole strings of Dickens char
acters or, with the assistance Of a few
mats and little false hair, had en-
oeaVored to portray Napoleon, Bis
marck, Shakespeare and others Of the
Famous dead. In this printed line on
the program there was nothing to in
dicate the nature or scope Of the ini-
tation which this s. Marlowe proposed
10 lnflict upon them. They could only
sit and walt and hope that It would be
short
There was sinking of hearts as
Eustace Hignett moved down the room
and took his place at the plano. A
pianist This argued more singing.
The more pessimistic began to fear
that the imitation was going to be
one of those limitations Of well-known
opera artistes which, though rare, do
occasionally add to the horrors of
ships concerts. They stared at Hig-
nett apprehensively. There seemed to
them something ominous In the mans
very aspect. His face was very pale
and set, the face of one approaching
task at which his humanity shudders
They could not know that the pallor
| Of Eustace Hignett was due entirely
| to the slight tremor which, even on
the calmest nights, the engines of an
ocean liner produce in the flooring of
dining saloon and to that faint, yet
well-defned, smell Of cooked meats
Which clings to a room where a great
many people have recently been eating
great many meals. A few beads of
cold perspiration were clinging to Eus-
tace Hignett's brow. He looked
straight before him with unseeing
eyes. He was thinking hard of the
Sahara.
So tense was Eustace's concentra-
ton that he did not see Billie Bennett,
seated in the front row. Billie had
watched him enter with little thrill
of embarrassment She wished that
she had been content with one of the
seats at the back. But her friend,
Jane Hubbard, who accompanied her,
had insisted on the front row.
In order to avoid recognition for as
long as possible, Billie now put up
her fan and turned to Jane. She was
surprised to see that her friend was
staring eagerly before her with a fixity
almost equal to that of Eustace.
what is the matter, Jane?"
Jane Hubbard was a tall, handsome
girl with large brown eyes. About
her, as Bream Mortimer had said,
there was something dynamic. The
daughter of an eminent explorer and
big-game hunter, she had frequently
accompanied her father on his expe-
ditiOns. An outdoors girl.
"Who is that man at the piano?" she
whispered. do you know him?"
"As a matter of fact, 1 do said
Billie. "His name is Hignett. Why?'
81 met him on the subway not long
ago. Poor little fellow, how miserable
he looks !"
At this moment their conversation
was interrupted. Eustace Hignett,
pulling himself together with a pain
full effort, raised his hands and struck
a crashing chord: and, as he did so,
there appeared through the door at
the far end of the saloon a figure
at the sight of which the entire au-
dience started convulsively with a feel
ing that a worse thing had befallen
them than even they had looked for.
The figure was richly clad in some
scarlet material. Its face was grisly
black and below the nose appeared
what seemed horrible cash. 1t adj
yanced toward them, smoking cigar.
"Hullo, Ernest" it said.
And then it seemed to pause expect
sntly. as though desiring some reply.
Dead silence reigned in the saloon
"Hullo, Ernest!'
Those nearest the piano-and no
body more quickly than Jane Huo-