Milford chronicle., 1932-01-29
"M MOORE"
A STORY
By Gerald Wilson '32
By Gerald Wilson '32
A STORY

champing their bits, stamping the
earth, and giving vent to loud snorts
and other utterances peculiar tC
their kind. Although small of sta
ture it could have been noticed that
passerbys gave them a wide berth
doubtless fearing either their barred
teeth or their wicked hoofs. These
sallow tinted mules seemed well
known to the townsmen. The ram
shackle blackboard creaked and roll
led as the restless devils" ian OBJ
server indicated them thus) pulled
on their tether and chewed the hit
ching-post.
A young woman came hurriedly
down the street, her long, black
hair hanging in disorder down her
back. She held up her long skirt as
she tripped over the irregular sur
face of the brick walk. She was on
especial business it seemed for she
walked with her head down and
paid little attention to her sur
roundings. Upon coming to where
the aforesaid mules trampled the
shell street, she stopped and regard
ed them in an amused but veXed
manner. She turned her glance to
the door opposite which the mules
were hitched. A sign above the door
told her that, which she probably
knew, was Windsor's Hotel. After
composing her glasses on her nose,
casting her hair out of her eyes,
and soothing the ruffles in her bro
caded blouse she stepped to the
door, pushed it open, and entered.
It was a cloudy day and the light
in the saloon was feeble, yet she
found her man Immediately. He was
reposlng in a large chair at the far
ther end of the bar. He was hand
some old man. His gray curls hung
in profusiOn about his face. A
moustache and goatee gave an ami
cable mien to his thin, ruddy vis-
age. Blue eyes peered merrily
from under shaggy eyebrows, and as
the girl entered the saloon he was
wrapped in convulsive laughter in
stigated by some wise impromptu
of the bartender. The old gentleman
held in his right hand an old, black
slouch hat, and firmly gripped in his
left hand bottle which bore on its
label the inscription pure Bourbon
Rye Whiskey." His attire consist
ed of khaki pants, leather boots,
and a gray coat and vest, or yves
coat" as he persistently called it.
He was neat, although his clothes
were not of the best quality.
He was indisputably drunk. The
girl showed no surprise, whatever,
at finding him in this condition, but !
quietly walked to him and stood, as
cold and mute as the Sphinx, by his
side. After glancing askance and
seeing this grim remembrancer of a
forgotten pledge, the old man sud-
denly gained control of his mirth
and peeper sheepishly at the unrul-
led damsel.
"Come on!" she ordered briefly.
The old man seemed to grow bolder
when she spoke for he rapidly
his head in the negative,
and with a grunt he lifted the bottle
to his lips.
Her hand swiftly descended upon
he bottle, knocking it to the floor ,
and bursting it. AS swiftly, she
hen took the old man under the
arms, for his weight was trivial,
md dragged him toward the door.
Take the mules to Jake's," she
the bartender from the
loor.
"Who am 1 going to get to take
he d things?" he yelled af-
er her. But she was gone.
"Come! Who among you men will I
AXE the critters to Jake?" he asked {
# the loafers at the rear. He re-
.eived no response except an in I
'reased conversation among the
men.
"Oh, I'll pay you," he grumbled. l
Iuch murmuring ensued this offer. ]
'nally three of the men rose, ans !
Gered in the affirmative to the bar !
ender's question, and went out to S
he mules. The bartender breathed t
sign of relief. t
During this time the girl had t
ragged the old man, protesting l
9th verbally and physically, to a s
irge, imposing house. g
Mother! Mother!" called the girl t
ltting sedately on the old mans p