Life — December 19, 1907 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

“LIFE: the Wonderland which thousands of years developed is ruined; but, thank Heaven! One-Eyed Dick is left to guide me into some one of the unspoiled places.” “I wish I could go with you and tackle a grizzly,” said the engineer; ‘‘but you folks that have nothing to do don’t know your advantages. Whenever the Wild calls you, you can obey; when it calls me, I have to stick close to the machine.” “What do you mean by saying that the President of the United States has nothing to do?” asked Rollo. “Is he not a laboring man as well as you?” “No,” replied the engineer; “I only call a man a la- boring man who must work on a time schedule. If you go a-hunting, your wages keep on just the same and are not docked. Now, with us it is very different. Don’t you re- member the song about big Jim Goff who was blown up by a premature blast, and he was docked for the time he was up in the sky? That is what happens to us laborers on the time schedule: When pay day next did come around, Jim’s pay a dollar short was found! ‘What is the reason? Tell me why?’ You are docked for the time you were up in the sky!’ “Yes,” said Rollo, “that song is more dangerous than the Marsellaise.”” “You, Mr. President, can be up in the sky indefinitely without finding a cent less in your envelope on pay day. So, sir, you must allow that you are not strictly a laboring man, no matter if you work nights and Sundays.” “T have always thought that a good definition for a labor- ing man,” said Rollo, “was one who was not permitted to do any work during sixteen hours of the day. Now, as you say, I have to work nights and Sundays, so that, not- withstanding your unpleasant remarks, I have a right to my vacation; the mountains and big game call me, and the vast silence. But, as I said, I propose to give that grizzly a square deal.” The engineer looked at him inquiringly. “TI mean what I say,” said Rollo; “1 shall not shoot until I see the whites of his eyes.” “He has no whites to his eyes,” said the engineer. “I don’t think that you have ever seen a grizzly close to, and if you sit there waiting until you see what he hasn’t got, this train will go back empty of a first-class passenger, and the country will have a new President.” “T don’t think anything could happen to me,” said Rollo. “T have always noticed that if I live to the first of May I live during the rest of the year. It is now long past the first of May; but, Engineer, it is told in Mayne Reid’s novels that when a man shoots a grizzly, the bullet is apt to glance off the tough carcass; then the hunter always tackles the brute with his bare hands, and after a severe wrestle finishes him with his hunting-knife. It is to such a contest that I look forward—a struggle that will bring out all that is best in me—a noble struggle—worthy to be engaged in.” “Well,” said the engineer, “I have never heard any one relate that he has taken part in such a struggle.” “Heroes are always reticent,” said Rollo, and the train rolled on, “1 wish to hand you your commission” LEnvoi The Boy President and his faithful friend, One-Eyed Dick, were in the secluded home of the bear, standing at the mouth of a cave. “Before I part with you and crawl into this cave,” said Rollo, “I wish to hand you your commission as-Marshal of this Territory.” Dick respectfully received the parchment from the Presi- dent’s hand. “The office has long sought you and now it has found you,” remarked Rollo. “Tam glad that it did not find me out,” said Dick. “Now, Dick,” said Rollo, “there may be all kinds of things in that cave; I can see from here two green spots of flame in the darkness which might serve to curdle any ordinary man’s blood. It may be the grizzly or it may be the vice-president of the Harriman-Rockefeller-Hearst combination, or it may be the president of the Ananias Club—I don’t care much who or what it is, I feel fit to tackle any proposition. Wish me luck, old fellow.” Thus saying, the dauntless lad crawled into the cave. John T. Wheelwright. THE END. THOSE INTERNATIONAL MATCHES CLEOPATRA MAKES A HIT WITH MARK ANTONY comicbooks.com