The Tomahawk. [volume] (White Earth, Becker County, Minn.) 1903-192?, 1925-08-27
WHEN
ROSWELL GOT
SHAVED
By GEORGE c. GARDNER
90 by Short Story Pub. Co.

begin with, even for man
whose worldly circumstances are such
that his vacations are purely a matter
Of personal inclination, it Is exasper-
ating to have them cut short. The
Hon. Mr.. Roswell was such a man,
but he took his vacations none the less
sparingly on that account. He valued
them highly, for they cost him in lost
time at least eight hundred dollars
day. So he cursed outwardly and in
wardly at the cipher telegram which
had reached him at his camp in the
woods the night before, calling him i'm
peratively to his Office. To save time
he had driven thirty miles that morn
ing over q mountain road, made chiefly
Of mud and rocks, instead Of Journey
ing In ease and comfort down the lake
by his accustomed route. The driver
and owner of the team which carried
him demanded twenty dollars, and got
it-for his was the only team within
five miles Of the camp-and now that
Mr.. Roswell had reached the railroad
at the hamlet Of Ashton, the train was
two hours late. He had wired down
the line for an engine. There was none
to be had. He would lose his day
connection at Wallis River, and that
meant an all-night ride In sleeper
and barely time to get from the train
to his Office by eleven next day. He
disliked a sleeper In August, and,
worse than that, his costume and his
beard, on which he rather prided him
self in camp, he had never worn in
New York, and he realized that his ap-
pearance at the meeting there next
morning would be commented upon.
On the whole, 1t was not surprising
that Mr.. Roswell was in bad humor.
The station agent, who had sent his
dispatches, locked up his office and
came around to the shady side of
the platform where Mr.. Roswell stood.
"Muggy, amt it2" said he.
Eyes," said Mr.. Roswell.
Found a good deal O. mud drivin'
over fr'm-I DIN knows you said from
where you come"
NO." said Mr.. Roswell, II didn't"
"Feller that drove you was a
stranger round hese, want her
II don't know"
you amt related to the Bardoe
RoswellsT
mo"
"Want me to lock your grip up In
the ticket office SOS you won't have to
lug it round?"
II can take care Of 1t myself"
"Wall, I'm goln' up the rud little
way. See you later. You'll have an
hour nd a half. She won't make up
more'n fifteen minutes" and the sta
ton agent slouched across the gravel
patch behind the station and up the
struggling village street.
Left alone, the Honorable Rutland
sat on the shady side Of the platform
and busted himself with various pa
pers and clippings In his bag. 1t was
hot, insufferably hot, and the flies
were abominable. 1t was one Of the
days when they stuck.
After three-quarters Of an hour Of 1t,
he became, If possible, more ill-hu-
| IuOTtu IHdh cNcEs liz uCSiuCu " WAN
up into the village He knew no one
there, and he didn't care to know any
one, but the street from the station
looked cool, so he picked up his bag
and started.
The first person he met was the
station agent on his way back to the
station. He had evidently been
shaved, and looked as cool and com.
| Portable as q man could look in such
weather.
1.-THE Quebec freight's due in about
fifteen minutes" he explained; "goin'
for a stroll?"
Eyes" said Mr.. Roswell.
"Just as we'll leave your grip with
me in the Offices not"
mo, I'll carry It." An idea came to
Mr.. Roswell, and he asked: rs there
a decent barber shop here?"
The agent looked at him narrowly.
II never heard nothin' against Life
Barrus, nd he's been shaving folks for
thirty years. Right up the rud, where
you see the sign; he runs the drug
store, too"
Mr.. Roswell went on. He had still
half an hour, and II he could get
shaved decently here 1t would add
greatly to his peace Of mind next
morning. Clean linen he had in his
bag, the porter would make his clothes
and shoes presentable that night on
the train, and with his beard gone he
would be able to appear at his Office
/ In his normal condition.
He followed the agents direction and
entered the barber shop. The win
dows were screened, II was dark and
cool. and the odor Of bay rum, cam
phor and ether was refreshing.
The barber put the worn Police Ga
zette which he was reading on the
table, and his feet on the floor.
"Can't you get me shaved before
| the train goes south?" said the Hon
orable Rutland.
Trains gone, amt it7'' said the bar
Der.
| emo ff,s Iato You've GOT half ar