Judge — October 8, 1910 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

5 LKIN’ iv har-rud luck," said Policeman Barney Flynn, retired, as he puffed at his pipe medita- tively, “there was me own cousin Mike. Jist afther I was laid off be th’ retirin’ boord f'r pickin’ a bit iv rheumat- ies out iv th’ river whin a felly I was ar- ristin’ put me over th’ br-ridge railin’ on a winther night, I wint up to see Mike, havin’ nawthin’ ilse to do. He was livin’ up in wot th’ woods iv Wisconinsin or Minnesota—I PROOF WANTED. and haven't my camera with me to prove it niver c'u'd ontangle thim Swede States— him bein’ th’ only white man in th’ county.”” “All Indians, I suppose,"’ I remarked. “That's th’ wan wor-rst bet,"” returned Flynn, “‘an’ ye get it, [ knew ye w'u'd. They ain't Injuns enough lift in all th’ coun- thry to keep a shmail distil’ry runnin’ on half time.” “But you said he was the only white man,”’ I argued. “Reright,” said Flynn. ‘All th’ rist is Swedes an’ Norskis iv wan kind or another. body. They even want to be elicted to office, an’ th’ wor-rst iv it is they are. Mike c’u'd overlook annything but that. He r-run f'r sheriff himsilf wan time, an’ a man be th’ name iv Pete Peterson beat him to it be somethin’ betther th’n Bryan's six- “Whew! I've brought .38 caliber cartridges for a .32 caliber rifle, an iver see,” “‘but ye can’t blame a man that's shootin’ at a target if a deer comes shtands behind it. He's all alone be himsilf, with no civilized It's achanst ye got s’ciety at all. He has th’ har-rdest time to take, accordin’ with thim ign'rant Norskis, thryin’ to show to Mike, an’ that’s thim that they don’t know nawthin’, an’ whatgivesinth’riet c’u'dn’t tell it if they did, f’r they have th’ to thryin’ out a foolish idee that they’re as good as anny- gun. Annyhow, he wint out into th’ woods, an’ he met a buck. it was no par-rt iv th’ game f'r to meet a buck that JUDGE Policeman Flynn’s Cousin Mike. eLtiorr rower, Poticeman Flysa."* teen to wan, him havin’ only what he c’u’d cr-rowd into th’ ballot-box himsilf. “They niver had anny love f'r Mike afther that, bein’ sore at him buttin’ in an’ scarin’ thim to death be makin’ a noise like a mil- lion votes. An’ there was wan more thing that made bad feelin’. Y" see, Mike had th’ Irishman’s contimpt f'r th’ man that c’u‘dn’t carry his load. Whin he had th’ most in him he was th’ liveliest, bein’ reready f’r anny kind iv ascr-rap; but let wan iv thim Norskis get nixt to a bottle, an’ a babby c’u'd lick him be th’ time ye'd pried him loose. Mike thried thim out y times, but there was niver nawthin’ doin’. Jist whin he was r-ready to go out an’ rassle an oak three to a finish, th’ Norski was havin’ throuble with his legs an’ c’u’dn’t move excipt down’ards. Iv coorse Mike told thim what he thought iv that, an’ Mike c’n put his tongue to some har-rd wor-rds whin he thries, “P’r'aps that had somethin’ to do with th’ throuble that follied whin Mike got his new gun. Annyhow, there was enough, an’ thin some more. Y’ see, th’ man with a new gun has got to thry it out, huntin’ season or no huntin’ season. If ye can’t thry it out on a deer, ye c’'n thry it out on a target; but ye got to see what th’ gun e'ndo r-right off. There’s no waitin’ f’r th’ man h th’ new gun, So Mike wint off into th’ woods’’—— “Why did he do that?"’ I in- terrupted. “Why sh'u’dn’t he?” manded Flynn. “It wasn’t necessary," I ar- gued; ‘‘and a man who goes in- to the woods wit! a gun out of season is always an object of suspicion. He could have de- rigged up a target at home.” “So I was tellin’ him," returned Flynn; * he says to me, ‘What's th’ use iv shootin’ at a target onliss there's a chanst iv a deer bein’ behind it?’ med, comprehending. ” law-abidin’est_ man ye maintained Flynn; up an’ Mind ye, mien “What! Mr. Ben-Gal (getting home from the club) —"* Why, er—hello, cobra! We've always been (hic) good friends, haven't we ?"" way, f’r there was no target bechune him an’ th’ buck, like there sh'u'd have been. There was nawthin’ to shoot at but th’ buck, which was ag’in’ th’ law, an’ Mike w'u'dn’t do that. But th’ buck come out iv th’ woods so sudden an’ so close up that he had Mike all r-rattled, an’ only a man iv th’ most law- abidin’est kind w'u'd have kep’ his head at all. “G'wan!" “G’wan away! geous!” he says. “But th’ buck kep’ lukkin’ at him like he didn’t know what to do. ““G'wan!! says Mike ag’in. si Mike th’ buck. re timptin’ me outra- to ‘'m a law- abidin’ man,’ he says, ‘an’ ye have no r-right to act th’ way ye’re doin’. I'm no St. Anthony,’ he says, ‘G’wan out where I e’n have r-room to mistake ye f’r a target.’ “Ye c’u'dn’t ask fairer th’n that, c'u'd ye?" pursued Flynn. ‘He done all that ye c’u’d expict iv anny man. But th’ naughty buck char-rged him. ‘Tis so. Mike tol’ me himsilf. He r-run afther him, an’ all Mike did was to thry to pound some sinse into him with th’ butt iv his gun, pleadin’ with him to g'wan about his business an’ let a law-abidin’ man continoo to law-abide. Ye c'n see it was all th’ buck’s fault, can’t ye?” > \ ayy ey) you, my daughter, a suffragette !"" comicbooks.com