Judge — March 2, 1907 — page 4: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

A TOUGH WINTER. meer 0, CALL this tough?" snorted the frayed Re citizen incredulously as he broke into the colin 4 conversation with a distinct hiccough. QR Well, you're wrong—dead wrong. This is luxury on greased rollers compared to what I've been through. Why, in th’ winter of '78 five of us fellers got ketched in th’ mountains, an’ had to hive up till spring with nothin’ between us an’ a lingerin’ death ex- cept a barrel o' prunes an’ fifty dozen pants- buttons, Talk about tough times! Humph !” He paused and relighted his half-inch stub of a cigar by neatly impaling it with a toothpick and holding it over the gas-jet. “How'in thunder did them. pants-but- tons sustain life, pardner?” inquired the store-keeper as he winked at Bill Smithers to close the cheese-hox. ‘sI’'m comin’ to that. It was like this: We’ was lieauin’ for civilization when the storm ketched us, Hairtrigger Ned, @ touchy sort o' critter, was in th’ lead. We'd jest about give up hope, when Hairtrigger emits a yell an’ says he'd struck an old shack that would save our lives for a spell, anyway. We went in, an’ in about a minute Hairtrigger gives a yell that beat th’ other yell by ninety blocks, He'd located a barrel o” prunes. ‘Course he drawed ‘is gun an’ laid claim to ‘em personal, an’, knowin’ ‘im pretty well, we didn’t none of us dispute ‘im on th’question. After rummagin’ around a while th’ rest of us struck about six hunderd pants-buttons, an’ that was th’ limit. “We set there nigh four hours watchin’ Hairtrigger eatin’ prunes afore Long Tom Jones originated ‘is great scheme for th’ preservation of th’ human ‘Is idee was to divide up them buttons be- race in general an‘ us in petikelar. twixt us four fellers, make ten of ‘em equal one prune, an’ then ‘play poker to see who'd do th’ eatin’, . «Hairtrigger balked like a mule at. first, but when we pointed out that each an’ every button represented one big dollar soon as th’ ground thawed an’ we could dig up our wads he give in, an’ we opened th’ game. + Each of us hailgjest a hunderd an’ fifty buttons standin’ between ‘im an’ starvation, an’ it was mighty critical, I tell ye, We knowed it wouldn't do to go in an’ spend them precious buttons for prunes at th’ start, for we'd starve sure. We jest had to play poker, each man hopin’ to win enough to take a plunge in prunes, ye see. ++ First night One-eyed Bill gathered in sixty buttons off of us fellers, an‘ he blowed ‘imself to half a dozen big, shiny prunes that made our mouths water like a leaky roof, ‘Th’ rest of us went hungry, hopin’ them prunes would swell on Bill an’ make ‘im careless in his playin’ next time, so we could clean ‘im. Sure enough it did. Long Tom won Bill's entire pile next night, an’ we had al! HER BELIEF. “ But Mrs. Brown has suffered a great deal for her bellef.”* “Indeed! I never knew she had any belief except that she can wear a number- four shoe on a number-six foot.”* we could do to prevent Bill from holdin’ ‘is breath an’ killin’ ‘imself until Hairtrigger opened ‘is heart an’ offered to stake ‘im twenty buttons. On th’ third night we skinned Tom an’ One-eyed out of every button they had. «We bought twenty-five prunes apiece an’ had a banquet. Tom an’ One-eyed set around with’ faces long enough to lap cider out of a cis- tern + Next day we were up ag'in it. Tom an’ One-eyed, bein’ dead broke, couldn't play, an’ there we was, star- in’ death right in th’ teeth, But fi- nally Hairtrigger got generous an’ staked ‘em, an’ th’.game went on ag’in. “Well, we kep’ that up for two months. Some nights I'd be cleaned out an’ go to bed: hungry an" dream of big, round-shouldered prunes floatin’ in a sea of pink ice-cream ; then I'd.wake up lickin’ my chops clear to my eyebrows. Hairtrigger kep’ stakin’ us whenever we'd go broke, an’ we kep’ lowerin’ them prunes till Hairtrigger had to crawl half into th’ barrel to git ‘em out. Finally, one day, them give out all at once. JUDGE'S FAVORITES. VIRGINIA EARL IN "THE MAN PROM WORCESTER.” Your Proctor-Keithish comic way Adorns whatever piece you play. “The Man from Worcester,"" miss, is not The only well-wisher you've got. What the woman sees. What the man sees. THE ETERNAL MASCULINE AND FEMININE. ++ «Well, boys,” says Hairtrigger, «guess we're booked to starve, anyhow. Here's them buttons—take ‘em. If they find ‘em on me they'll think I was a peddler.* ‘We took them buttons outside to throw ‘em away, when all to once a big avalanche shot past an’ uncovered a town right below us. We'd holed up in a cabin about four hundred feet up th’ mountain from th’ town, an’ th’ fellers livin’ down there had dug streets an’ was enjoyin’ ‘emselves big. We spotted a hotel down on a corner an’ made a run for it. ++ But that was th’ closest call I've ever had. What? ‘Well, I'l take a wee nip, thanks.” XM. CROWELL. MAY a man can hold a dollar when an opinion would break his skull. comicbooks.com