Evening star., 1925-11-22

took her in with one swift glance
the fine poise of her head. the fresh.
ness of the color in her cheeks. the
proud light in her brown eyes beneath
the dropping rim OF the wide straw
hat. the smallness of the hand which
held the parasoi across her shoulder.
"Steppin out in high society,"" was
the mental comment of Whisky Bill.
Things is shore comm soft fer him"
His gaze went To his son and lin
sered on those wide young shoulders
for some time. Il reckon I'm his flesh
and blood" he rea ssured himself. IAN
that | got to do is say the word. Jest
tell him who l be-
That evening while the crowds We're
gathering in the saloons he mulled
over the project. With the smell Of
whisky and stale beer in his nostrils,
he cleaned the glasses in Bob Hatch $
place and washed the heavy Cuspidors,
the while he saw himself in his imagi-
nation walking the streets, well
clothed. well fed. secure in the knowl-
edge of where his next meal was to
come from.
Jest tell him who | be-" he whis-
pered to himself. AN ask him what $
he amin to do about 1t. anyhow. Yuh
be- he'll loosen up"
x x X
Two hours later. when the stinging
i drinks which he had cadged from
he cowboy and other spendthrifts
were warming him to the core. he
looked through the doorway and saw
Lee standing on the sidewalks edge
with the Wells Fargo agent. Whisky
Bill Shuffied out and took his place
upon one of the beer kegs Here he
roasted with his head on one side. not
at all unlike an unclean old buZzard.
watching the pair until the agent had
departed. Then he left his perch and
sidled across the sidewalk. He laid
his hand on his sons arm.
Barton looked down upon the rag
ged little figure beside him.
Was there something you wanted? ~
he asked
The rat eyes fell The words which
were on Whisky Bill's lips died un-
uttered. He strove to shift his gaze
back, that he might meet the others
look again. But there was something
in those gray eyes which was too
much for him. His boldness was
gone. The hopes which he had nour-
ished so greedily took instant wing.
Excuse me, mister he said husk-
lily. Il thought yuh was another
teller
CuriouslN enough. he cherished no
resentment. The very fact that he
dared not say those words which he
had so carefully rehearSed brought to
him an admiration. And now there
came to him sudden sense of pos
session. This was his boy And a
certain pride glowed within him.
He returned to the saloon. In his
enthusia SIN for the project of bleeding
his son he had neglected some of his
n Sl- 10 h,,,s l,
what vigor he could muster. but all
the time in his fancy he saw the
Young face looking down into his.
AS fine boy as ever wore shoe
leather he reflected.
The evening wore on. The ia SKIS in
Bob llatch's place We're finished. Ac-
Cording to his custom, he made the
rounds from saloon to dance hall. from
dance hall To gambling house and ba OK
again to hurdy gurdy.
Once in the Crystal Palace during a
slack interim he sidled up to a rou-
lette dealer whom he had known in
Silver City.
That new shotgun messenger that
trilled Bill Lowery on the Benson road
Yesterday afternoon" he said huskily,
he shore was lucky. hev?"
oh, | dunno" The croupier spun
the marble idly along the wheels
groove. Il wouldn't call it luck Lee
Barton is a dead shot and he has sand
enough ior 10 men. | seen him once
right here on Allen street, help Bill
Savage stand off mob that was go.
ing to lynch a claim jumper. No. He
had more than luck"
Whisky Bill edged away again. His
putty face was eXpressionless but his
rat eyes were brighter than they had
been before.
At the Birdcage Opera House he
fingered in what wouif pass in a more
polite place of entertainment as the
foyer. Here was a short bar where
miners and cowboys jostled one an
other buying drinks, while the voices
of the entertainers on the stage
changed like brazen gongs Old
Whisky Bill was helping the bartender
wash glasses during a period of lively
trade.
Reckon them road agents was
green hands to let a young feller skeer
EN- off like that Wells Fargo man
done yesterday He flung the sug-
gestion over his shoulder while his
hands We're busy with the heavy
tumbers.
Green nothin'," the bartender told