The Hardin tribune-herald., 1935-11-08
lust Another One Of Duncons Yarns By Eleanor Abbott

JUDI nIIUuICl OuI
Published BY Special ARRANGEMENTS With The
Chicago Tribune-New York News Syndicate,
Copyright: 1885: sy E5E1NoR HAIhowE11
0N TWO PARTS TWO)
Mrs. Duncon took but a single glance
at the medico's frowning face before
hurrying uproaringly to his reassur-
ance. Her laughter was positively con-
tagious. Even Duncon himself Joined
in it at last.
% don't worry, DOCTOR" she said.
looked at any other woman in the
world except me! Have you. honey?"
she flung back across her shoulder to-
wards the quiet bed.
So pretty she looked in her laughter
and her assurance, so handsomely pos
ltive as it were, that no mere man
could really have been expected to re-
fuse her a corroboration of the state
ment.
But Duncon quietly shrugged his
shoulders.
The card game proceeded to its fin
ish.
The little group broke up.
Remembering suddenly a new travel
magazine that was in his overcoat
pocket the doctor went out to get it
and brought it back to the sick bed,
pointing out some special article in
it concerning Africa.
With the turning of its first page a
vague emotion of some sort flickered
across Duncon's forehead, a family
enigmatic grin struck across his lips.
Once when I was in Africa" he be-
gan.
Even the doctor laughed.
"Why, Duncon," cried his wife. you
never were in Africa"
Wasn't II" said Duncon. The ques-
ton for that instant seemed only be-
wildered one. The bewilderment van
ished. 20, wasn't II" he rallied with
an entirely different connotation.
I saw Mrs. Duncon call the doctor
aside.
do you think his mind is wander
ing?" she enunciated, wordlessly.
The doctor shook his head.
AS for me I saw only the changing
lavender, the all gone color which has
never yet been named. It didn't look
good to me. "Was it possible?" ques-
tinoed, that there was something
wrong with poor Duncon besides his
broken back? His heart, perhaps? Or
had his lungs been hurt in the acci-
dent?"
Already Duncon's wife and the doctor
had trailed from the room. All the
way to the front door heard their
family discursive voices.
Seized with the same indefinable i'm
pulse my husband and remained.
A trifle languidly Duncon picked up
the magazine again.
whats the trouble with me and
Africa?" he queried. The query sound
ed family irritable. Most specially of
ALL" he reiterated, whats the trouble
with me?"
1.-The only trouble with you," grin
ned my husband, lis that you don't
make enough fuss when you tell story,
wave your arms, I mean, or do some
thing to attract and hold the attention
of your audience. That's the thing that
gives the real emphasis and authority
to story! Tricks!"
The idea seemed to interest Duncon
very much.
do you mean," he said, that if
waved my arms people would believe
me?"
Il dol" said my husband.
20, very well, then," said Duncon.
Listen to this-I'm going to die" wav-
ed his arms, and did!
But, except for the shock OF It no
fair minded person could have deplored
his passing. For, after all, the acreage
enclosed within his wife'S white picket
fence was a distinctly restricted one.
r1,o rofo ;rroxroro Io1y 1ofohoH DaQth
was the only adventure left for him.
Even though missing him we could not
begrudge his escape.
Yet, if death is quick and bizarre
sometimes, so also is life. Within a
week we we're notified that by the terms
of Duncon's will we had been bequeath-
ed the title to fabulous sounding sill
yer mine in Arizona and the account
book.
We smiled when we thought about
the silver mine. We'd had some silver
mine experience before. But the account
book seemed quite different matter.
Incredible as the silver mine sounded
it didn't perplex us half as much as the
recipiency OF the account book perplex-
ed us.
Even Mrs. Duncon felt embarrassed
about the account book.
"Why in the world" she questioned.
should Duncon have thought you'd be
interested in his old accounts?"
"Why, indeed?" he acquiesced.
"Just figures!" she deprecated.
"Just figures!" we agreed.
Mrs. Duncon tried to smile, but
couldn't.
"Iave you looked at them yourself?'
we thought suddenly to ask her.
20, no." said Mrs. Duncon. II haven't
had time. and besides, the book is
locked. The last time Duncon wrote
in it and locked it he must have lost