Judge — December 13, 1913 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

So, on this Christmas night, Foothill was celebrat- ing—not hilariously as of old, when the big mines were running full blast, but quietly as be- came a Center of Thespian Art. But suddenly the town actors congregated at Poker Bill's, laid down their cards and set down their glasses. A loud halloo had been heard in the distance, “T know that yell,’’ said Mike O'Shaughnessy. ‘‘’Tis old Packsad- dle Pete comin’ in from his usual sea- son of unsuccessful prospectin’. Why Pete persists in follerin’ that game, at the heels of a ragged and moth-eaten burro, when he could make more money and assimilate a lot more gentility by actin’ for the millions like me, is more than I can understhand."’ “*Pete’d make a grand actor in prospectin’ roles,’” said another of the Foothill Dramatic Society. “He sure looks the part,’ agreed another super. “Git him ’n’ that frazzled burro in front of a picture machine, and the operator’d go gibberin’ mad fer joy.”’ “*But he has no soul for art,’’ said Mike, disgustedly. **He’s turned down a dozen opporthunities to win fame as an actor, all on account of this prospectin’ bug that’s buzzin’ beneath his hat. He'll be comin’ in and tellin’ us how he’s had to quit diggin’ when he was not more than four feet away from the mother lode, and how he’s goin’ back next spring and uncover a mine that'll enable him to buy the hull movin’-picture business, with us stars throwed in as furniture.’” There was a rattling of frying pans and other accouterment outside as Packsaddle Pete hitched his tattered burro. Nobody , CUSTOM OF THE COUNTRY Lady of the house—What! you a bird of paradise? Ridiculous ! Weary Warbler—Yep, missus. You see they plucked me at the custom house, WILL BEAR THE BURDEN Mrs. Johnes—That hat cost seventy-five dollars? Great heavens? It’s a sin. Mrs, Johnes—You needn't worry. The sin will be on my head. was sufficiently interested in Pete’s coming to go out and help him fasten his faithful traveling companion. Few looked up when Pete himself burst into the door—a great, sunburnt giant of a man, well in his sixties, but hardy as one just turned forty. “Come up here, you bum actors—you passel of baskers in the eye of the camery!"” shouted Pete, in a voice that re-echoed in the room. ‘‘Come up here and have something on me and listen to what Packsaddle Pete's got to tell you about the big- gest mine that’s ever been struck.’” “Ah, yes, Pete, me deah boy,”’ said ‘Mike O'Shaughnessy, laying down a moving-picture magazine, in which his portrait appeared. ‘‘We know all about it, old top. Another one of them mines ye're goin’ back after next spring, ain't it?’’ “Not much, you pitiful slave to the camery shutter !"" boomed Pete, throwing a buckskin sack on the bar. ‘‘I've struck her this time. I’ve got her all staked and branded, and the monu- ments all up in my name. And I’ve staked out neighboring claims—all the law allows—for my kin and my real friends."’ At this Foothill sat up and looked at Pete in amazement. “This here looks true,’’ said the barkeep, pouring a stream of shining gold on the bar. ‘‘Pete, you've never brung any- thing like this in here before. Where'd you find it? Let us in on it—that’s a good old Petey. We allus liked you—you know we did.’” “Yes, you campful of celluloid film spoilers!" said Pete scornfully. ‘You allus liked me well enough to make fun of me and peg stones at my burro that’s standin’ outside. But, let me tell you, that animal's goin’ to have gold shoes anda chiropodist and a masseur and a tonsorial attend- _ ant, while you camery supernumeraries are goin’ around beggin’ the price of a shave. But I'll tell you where I found it. That’s what I came in here for to-night, because the story’s too good to keep.” “Where is it?’’ rose the chorus. “Easy now,’ cautioned Pete. ‘‘You remember you fellers was all actin’ the mob in that scene up on the Devil's Slide to-day?’ comicbooks.com