The Argosy, August 1905 — page 125: what you’re looking at

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

with dust. But dust gets into every- thing down here, and 1 doubt man’s ability to keep it out for one day. I enjoyed a bountiful supper and found Mrs. Green an affable and pleasant woman. We chatted during the evening, heard a local go by, and Mr. Green remarked that a freight would be due soon. This was their life, listening for trains that seldom stopped. Bacon and creamed potatoes, good cotfee and a great plate of luscious ber- ries with cream made a fair breakfast. At ten o'clock the passenger came along, and Mr. Green flagged it. The con- ductor wanted to know what was up. “Yer see, conductor,’ said Mr. Green, “this gent was on the express what run inter that freight yistiddy. He got out ter look, en ther durn thing went off an’ left him. * He walked here an’ stayed all night. He had first-class passage with cowpons fur meals an’ sleeper. But everything is in that train. He ain’t got no money ner ticket ner nothin’.” “ That’s a bad predicament to be in out here,” said the conduetor, smiling. “I suppose about ten thousand damages might satisfy you?” I knew this was a feeler. “1 don’t want damages,” I replied, “so much as lI do haste. | am wanted at Mackinyille, Arizona, where I own extensive properties. 1 really ought to be there now.” “JT guess the company will stand by what I do,” he said. ‘I have room, so come with me. Il drop you at Mack- inville.” Luxury, thou art a jewel. I received a Pullman seat, a ticket for a sleeper, and a meal check. “Make yourself perfectly at home,” said the conductor. “ You are as wel- come to all the comforts just the same as though you had bought that ticket. My report will cover that.” “Richard,” I said, as the train sped on, “ once in awhile the devil takes care of his own. He seems to be a friend of yours.” There was no more trouble after that. I lived sumptuously and slept well. And eventually, having ridden through cac- tus, mesquite and drifting sands, the train slowed up at a little station where I kmew an express would not stop. “ This is Mackinville,” said the con- ductor. “Good-by. Hope you have had a pleasant ride.” “Very, and I thank you,” I said. For once I had told the truth. I alighted from the car and looked around, Mackinville seemed to be pretty much on the straggle; the streets were crooked, and there were more streets than were necessary for the accommo- dation of the number of honses. There was a general store, and the post office was in that. In the next building there was a dentist, and next a drug store. ‘Then a one-story affair, with the sign on the door: JAFFRY & JONES, ATTORNEYS. I walked into the office. A tall, raw- boned man sat in a wooden chair, read- ing a legal paper. ‘“T am Richard Wallace,” I said. “Is this Mr. Jaffry ?” “No. I’m Jones. Glad to see you, Mr. Wallace. Your hand. Glad to see you. Jaftry is out to lunch. He'll be back. Sit down.” Mr. Jafiry came in soon after my arrival. Jones introduced me. “Ha, ha! Did you get bit on cot- ton?” laughed Jafiry. “Cotton! I never speculate in cot- ton.” “See that! Hear that, Jones! He never does. What did I tell you? That fellow in New Orleans was an impostor.” Then he told me all about it. “T would never think of asking a favor of a stranger,” I said. We got down to business pretty quickly. I cared little to hear how my unele died. I was satisfied that he had died at all. I wanted to get out to my ranch where I could breathe like a free man, the owner of all he surveys. I gave them the letter, the certificate and my father’s picture. “ By Jove, Jones, that looks enough like old Tom to be himself when he was young,” said Mr. Jattry. The evidence was sufficient and Jaffry said: “Mr. Jones will take you out to the ¢