The Challis messenger. (Challis, Idaho) 1912-current, 1924-12-31
THICKER
THAN
WATER
%. Doubleday. Page 6 Coz
By MARY B. wooDsoN

John ST. Clair sat and pantet
IL old, withered, bloodless JohI
st. Clair. Outside, the Offices
Of st. Clair & Co. hummed busily
Telephones shriIled, office boys racet
madly, typewriters leaped and ratified
citizens of the United States, display
ing large white waistcoats and dla
monds. conyersed earnestly with
other such citizens, behind brass rail
ings. and became bulls or bears on
the spot; vast sums Of money were
being handl,d-on paper. railroads
and small investors were being
bought and sold; stocks were being
watered, bricks gided And captains
Of commerce were coming with cring-
Ing knees to borrow old st. Glars
gold, though widows and orphans
never got past the first office boy
But here. In this inner office, where
old st. Clair sat like money-spider
In its web. 1t was still-very still
and suddenly very lonely. A minute
ago old St. Clair had been a little
king, despotical.y ruling his kingdom
by might Of gold. Now he was only
frightened old man. For his busy
brain. pinning endless webs Of finan-
clal intrigue and piracy. had limped,
all at once. whirled. all but stopped.
Faster than the flood of wealth rolled
in. the sands of life seemed run
ming out.
T0ttering, staggering, almost whim-
Il v.hx. 6
denly and walked weakly back and
forth. Every day 1t was more effort
to get up and dress; every night there
was less strength in his weary body
to face nsomnia-insomnla where
yesterdays door he had shut so long
ago and locked. would open. And
now this This loneliness, this fright
And the doctor telling him today that
he couldn't do a thing for him with
all his money. Saying he'd played the
game too hard and he'd have to pay
Nature heavy interest now. Abrupt
ly, old John st. Clair cackled and
feebly doubled bony fist. Fools
doctors. And what had he answered?
Il need tonic to give me some
backbone" he'd shouted That's what
he'd said. And the fool doctor had
told him:
Drop business Get outdoors-live,
eat, sleep outdoors and be happy.
That's your tonic"
Happy Suddenly old John st.
Clair was painting again. He glimpsed
the futility OF all he had. His hard
eyes were fear once more-fear and
pain. Happy Fat chance, If money
wasn't being happy. If he dropped
business and remembered and thought
and yearned and fought 1t all over
again. now that he was old
"Oh. bosh |" painted old John st.
Clair, stubbornly. sitting down at his
desk again. dlzzily taking up his pen,
wildly trying to marshal his thoughts.
1t was the third time he had said,
"Oh, bosh !" lately. And 1t was once
too often.
The next day the prime minister Of
John st. Clalr's little kingdom, pene-
rating respectfully into the spiders
quiet parlor. found the king crum-
pied, insensible body in the chair of
state. Terrible minutes followed be-
ore the frail, yellow shell that held
he pickering spirit Of the great finan-
Ter was finally carried secretly up to
he great art museum where he lived
alone, and where he fought his bit
er battle--alone. True, his money
Fought plenty Of hired hands and sci
nee and skill to keep the vital spark
in the worn old body, but
hey alone. also. smoothed his pillows
md bathed his face. No living soul
4 kin was there to care.
And outside. the papers screamed
Nth headlines detailing the money !
ing's involuntary abdIcatIon. the mar
ct plunged like a mustang and there
7ns much noise and confusion. but In
hat bedroom 1t was still and very !
Dnely. as the office had been while
avs slid by In magnificent, solitary
efeat.
One evening. out Of oblivion. In the .
lidst of his wealth. old John st. Clair
asked for a piece"
piece of what, sir?" The nurse a
, charge was matter-of-fact young II
nimal without Imagination. p
Bread n butter" said old John !
/. Clair. like a little child. !.
So. promptly. he had neat oblongs :
I bread, just the right size, just the "
ght age. with just the proper amount :
T butter. from which he turned away v
eevishly. muttering querulously. =
eenly disappointed. Presently he .
ept strange. slow, hard tears. He >
lid he wanted to go home. Then. =
fter a long. long time, he whispered c
hout bread and butter again. Last
T all he blurted. "Marthy."
And after that there was no stop
ng aim. The art museum wasn't cl
iome." He wouldn't stay. SO one a
,my October day a special train "
ept slowly through purple. pine S,
ad gorges Of the Blue Ridge noun