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SEPTEMBER FICTION ISSUE—REALISM, ROMANCE, PATHOS, COMEDY AND TRAGEDY.
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I ME Y===Before Freedom Days
1 BAMBIT0-- s Ji Legend of Colombia
By LOUISE THREETE HODGES.
Written for BWc Sunny .Youth
□ ■■A X appearance Iney was
J simply a typical old-time
darkey, very black, witii
thick red lips and very
.. ■■ kinky hair, hut in charac
teristics she was in a class
by herself, entirely unique.
Her nature was a curious
mixture of kindliness and
cruelty, faithfulness and
jj treachery, but her chief
§ Y * || characteristic was pride;
pride in the standing of
her master’s family among
the ’’quality'' and in her own position in
the family. She was the. trusted lieuten
ant of her mistress in managing house
hold and kitchen affairs, and she ruled
with imperious and relentless hand all
the young darkies, including her own
half-grown son and daughter, who were
her helpers in domestic duties.
Tite mistress and master were frequent
ly away from home for days together vis
iting relatives and friends, and on these
occasions the entire household, white and
black, was left in Iney’s care, and faith
fully she looked after the comfort of the
two little girls and the geenral welfare
of the household, but she had great times
In her own cabin in the meantime. Her
domination of tile white children bv al
ternate petting and threats, and of all
the “house gang’’ of the negroes was
suclt that she had no fear of their divulg
ing anything that she wished kept se
cret from the mistress.
Iney was a gay widow, although she
was 40-odd years of age, she liked to
have young beaux and made no secret of
the fact that she expected to marry some
“young gem-man of light complexion.’’
She had superlative contempt for “black
niggers,” notwlthstanding the fact that
she was herseif black js a raveh's coat.
She was a fine cook and this ,no doubt,
W a s the magnet which attracted the
“young gem-mens’’ to her cabin.
Once while “of mistis” was away from
home Iney invited several of the neigh
borhood beaux to partake of her hospi-
lality, and great preparations were made
for the event. A tine, fat goose from
the mistress's flock was baked, and on
sundry custards, pies and cakes Iney ex
pended her best culinary skill. The table
was spread with a snowy cotton cloth,
and the bed covered witii a treasured,
tufted counterpane, rivaled it in white
ness. The bed. by the way. was a sight
to behold. In order to bring it to the
dimensions which Iney though a "qual
ity” darkey’s bed should possess, she
brought bundles of fodder from the barn
and laid them under the mattress until
liie desired height was attained.
She inveigled the little girls into bring
ing out some of their mother’s sheets and
a few pieces of her choicest china and
silver. (She would not take them her
self. although she carried the keys.)
With the sheets she covered the walls of
her cabin, and with the china and stiver
she made her table resplendent. Just
after •eusk. when the preparations for
tire feast were all completed and 1 nry
was busily making herse’f ready, the lit
tle girl, with dismay in her face, appear
ed at. the door and exclaimed, “Mother
has come!” Then there was wild scram
bling to get out t>f “Sunday clothes;’’ the
By CLIFFORD SMYTH.
The Child's Imagination Was Taxed in Accounting for the Mythical Ships.
walls were speedily dismantled of their
•whiteness, and sheets, china, and silver
were with dispatch smuggled through a
back window of the “big house” into
their respective receptacles. Latei the
feast as celebrated, hut within bare walls
and with tabie sans china and silver.
And Iney’s spirits did not reach the stage
of hilarity they would have attained had
not the mistress returned a day earlier
than was expected.
Iney was very proud of her “proper
talk.” She would us? any long, high
sounding words that she could catch,
without the slightest idea of their rele
vancy. After the visits of some of her
b?aux she would laugh and recount to
the little girls how the callers had been
mystified and awed by her grandilo
quence. Sometimes the beaux, not to
he outdone, would out-Herod Herod.
Once she told the little girls, “Mr.
Scruggs was here las' night, an' a.l! at
on-'-e I saw him lookin’ Toun’ like he
was lookin’ fer somethin'. ‘What is de
implement you desires to confiscate yo’
eyes on. Mr. Scruggs?’ says 1. En he
says, ’1 w’as Jos’ er desirin’ to deserve
where you keeps de appalachicola.’ X
didn’t know no mo’ dan nutliin’ what
he wa-s lookin’ fer, so I says. 'I doesn't
pe exactly understan' where de location
of dc circumlocution is at de present
time, but you jes make yo’se'f at home.
Air. Scurggs. an' look er roun' tell you
find it.' Presently he walked to de do’
an' took down de gourd dat was hangin’
on a nail an’ took a drink er water, an’
I nevi-r did fin' out which he wus talkin’
’bout, de gourd er de water.”
Iney was fond of dancing and tripped
the light fantastic with as much agility
as a girl of sixteen. She often regaled
tile little girls with accounts of her ex
ploits at the "parties” in the neighbor
ing cabins, and of how the young girls
envied her. On one occasion when she
particularly desired to eclipse a rival,
she persuaded the little girl, her faith
ful ally, to lend her the master’s watch.
It was an easy matter to tiptoe into
father’s and mother’s room after they
had retired and take the watch from
the hook over the mantle, where each
night it was hung. Iney was, no doubt,
the envied of all beholders as she danced
at the “party” with the big silver watch
stuck inside her belt. The next morning
CONTINUED OX LAST PAGE.
Written for C7»e Sunnv South
A.VTRTTO was angry with
B the old Indian '-hi. }'.
"Stupid woman!” he
muttered to himself. “How
can he dare laugh at Don
Fernando? He is old. old,
old—hah!” and he stamped
his bare foot in the yel
low dust. spittitng con
temptuously at the prickly
agaves in the hedgerows
as lie trudged along.
“Don Fernando has seen
everything. He is wiser
than tlm Padre—and the Padre is the
wisest man (hat ever lived in Raposo.”
Don Fernando had spent a month in
the valley of Raposo collecting geologi
cal specimens. He found Raposo of spe
cial interest in this work since it was
stiut in on all sides by the loftiest peaks
of the Andes and contained the only
formation of Jurassic rock discovered in
Colombia. On account of its inaccessi
bility it was unknown to the outside
world, so that the scientist.had here a
rich field.
The inhabitants of Raposo, descend
ants of the Panchee Indians, regarded
Don Fernando and his passion for the
rocks of their little valley with astonish
ment. Some said he was crazy and pitied
him accordingly. Others accounted him
very wise. "A Sabio.” and treated him
with the deference belonging to a prince.
Chief among his admirers was Bambito.
Although Bambito was Just a boy he
had always longed to cross the great
mountains that had formed his horizon
as far back as he could remember. Very
few men had ever dared cross those
mountains, but that did not prevent
Bandiio wishing thiH he might do it.
The Padre had crossed them; but the
Pad" > would not talk about what he had
ter all ' Bambito’" coaxing. Don
ras different. Whenever B.-im-
qu'estioned him about this world
beyond the mountains, lie would laugh
and clap him over the shoulder and ten
marvelous stories of the strange places
out there and show him some of his gold
treasures. Bambito thought there could
he nothing more beautiful than the gold
chain Don Fernando wore under his man
tle. Even the great cup the Padre used
when he knelt before the altar in the
little church was not so bright as that
chain—and the Padre’s cup was the fin
est thing ever seen in Raposo.
After listening to Don Fernando it
seemed foolish for any one so brave
and strong as Bambito to stay where
he was. carrying water up the mountain
side for the old chief, picking cotton or
cutting wood with his machete and load
ing it on the backs of the stupid don
keys. He grew tired of these tasks and
determined to be a “Sabio” and live in
a great house and have a gold chain like
his friend's. Magda should go with him
and be a fine senora and not ride in the
muddy river with her legs crossed on a
donkey’s back. Yes, lie would leave
Raposo, visit Don Fernando in the Great
Pueblo, and tell him what he wanted
to do.
This plan pleased Bambito. Tie felt
proud of himself. Perhaps they would
say he was nothing but a boy now! For
a whole night he lay awake thinking
about it on his mat in the court yard
while Chaleo, his brother, snored like a
stupid a*- his side. The next morning
he told the old chief he was going to
; FeiVmrn
bit/' 1 qu'e
live with Don Fernando and not drive
donkeys any more in Raposo. Then the
chief laughed at him. making Bambito
so angry he’ would say nothing more to
such an old woman.
He told Magda of his great plan. She
looked at him witii such a sly laugh in
her eves that for over an hour he sat
beside her not daring to speak. Then
he go* up and commenced weaving at
Aranca’s hammock-loom, pretending not
to see Magda. So he was able to ten
his story.
For a long time after lie had finished
talking Magda said nothing, but sat
watching the vultures quarrelling over
tiie dead gnat, in the roadway before
t.h“ house.
“Where is this Pueblo Don Fernando
talks about?” she asked finally.
“On the other side of the Cloud moun
tain. Don Fernando is there in his
great house and you and I will live with
him. Magda.”
“I could never climb the Cloud moun
tain. Only’ very strong men can do
that.”
“Well, T am strong, even the old chief
says so. It will rot take long to dlnh It.
You can see the top oven from her?.”
They- went out together and stood look
ing at the giant of the sky, behind whose
snow-capped peak such a wonderland of
wealth was hidden.
“I could never climb it. Bambito.”
“Then I will go alone.”
“Besides, I couldn’t leave Aranca. She
needs me to pick the grass for her
baskets. Then the pigs and the donkey’
and the troopial and the kid whose
mother died this morning—who would
look after them if T went with you up
the floud mountain?”
“Suppose we take Mother Aranca with
us?”
Magda laughed. She thinking of
the last time Mother Aranca whipped
Bambito.
“I’m afraid you must go alone,” she
said. “When you come hack Aranca and
T R-.ii.Ut St. U it is not too far.’
“You won t go now?”
“No; I can’t.”
“Very well, Magda. I will come hack
after T have found the Great Pueblo.”
“Goodby.” then. Bambito.
“Look here, Magda,” lie said, solemnly.
“Well, what is it?”
“Don’t talk with that Chaleo while I
am climbing ’he Cloud mountain ”
“Good bye. Bamito,” she laughed, push
ing him gently.
“Good bye, Magda!”
II.
Bambito thought of these things as he
trotted gaily along, looking down occa
sionally at Raposo growing smaller and
smaller as he rose above it. He wondered
why none of his playmates had ever done
what he was doing now. He felt so
pleased with himself that he frequently-
burst out laughing, taking off his hat
and bowing very low. saying:
“Good day, Don Sabio Bambito!”
Then he walked along for hours, think
ing of the gold Don Fernando promised
him when he reached the Great Pueblo.
As ho thought he grew so excited and
happy’ he hopped from one foot to the
other, swaying iris body' and waving his
arms above his head as if he were danc
ing in the Carnival. He and Magda would
certainly have the finest clothes in Ra
poso, with shoes like the Padre’s for their
feet. Moreover. Bambito himself would
he a chief if he came hack to live in Ra
poso, instead of staying in the Great
Pueblo.
But these fine dreams faded away' as
the little village became a speck in the
far-distant valley. Strange things that
happened years ago commenced to worry
him. The saddest of ail the old stories
was the one the gossips used to tell about
the Padre. Bambito tried not to think of
it. but it seemed to jump out at him from
the dark rocks and bushes as he ran
along. This is the story.
One dark night, when the stars were
too angry to shine, a beautiful lady from
the other side n f the world rode into the
village. Her skin was white as the top
of the Cloud-Mountain. She was one of
the Padre's own people; no one in Ra-
fiosq looked like. her. There was an old
woman with her and tw« men. Where
they ,-ame from no one knew, for it was
too dark to tell about that, but they went
straight to the Padre’s house. He came
out in the court, yard, as if he had been
expecting them, with a light in his hand.
When the lady- saw him she gave a cry
as though she were very happy and said
some words that no one hut the Padre
could understand. Then she sank down,
before he could answer her, on the stones
at his feet. Everyone thought she was
dead. But the good Padre picked her up
in his arms and carried her into the
house and sent for Donna Catalina to
come and care for her. After that no
one saw this beautiful la.dy’. for she died
a month later. The Padre placed a white
stone where she was buried and marked
one word on it; “Graciela.”
Bambito had seen this stone. Every
year, also, lie had seen the Padre plant
flowers before it and stand looking at it
without saying a. word.
Donna Catalina said the lady- once lived
in the Great Pueblo, wlvre the Padre
had loved her—just as Bamb’to loved
Magda. But the Padre was poor in those
days. Sometimes he could not buy’ bread
to eat. Ho had only’ his books. There
was no money for a wife. So, one day
the lady left him and went to another
Pueblo, where the Padre could not find
her. Her father made her do this be
cause he wished her to marry a great
chief why had plenty of gold like Don
Fernando. Then the Padre believed she
no longer loved him, and never saw her
again until she came that night to his
house in Raposo.
Thinking of this story made Bambito
lose his spirits. Then. too. he had to rim
to keep warm. The coat Aranca had
made him from the cotton he had picked
was worse than nothing to climb in. ]t
made him shiver when it flapped against
his bare legs. lie felt hungry, too, and
found the climbing more difficult. Be
sides. there were no trees, no parrots and
fr^opials to sing to him. nor monkeys
to make him laugh. All these things
were left behind. The valley below him
had disappeared. Even the thatched roof
of the Padre's church, standing high
above all the houses in Raposo. had be
come invisible. Bambito found himself
in a wilderness of dark holes and terrible
rocks. He had never noticed this hide
ous place when he used to look up at the
Cioud-Mounfain from the doorway- of Ar
anca’s house. Xow, even the sparkling
summit, standing like a white gateway
before the gold-filled Pueblo of Don Fer
nando had been swept away by- these
ugly giants.
This frightened him, and Bambito com
menced thinking of all he had heard
about this mountain. An old woman call
ed La Bruha, used to tell him about it.
Xo one knew how La Bruha lived and
what she did with the great hammocks
she used to weave, until one night she
disappeared and ail those strange ham-
CONTTJHJED^QN LAST PAGE.
&/>e Conscience of Alderman McGinnis
• ••—• •-••••••• ••• • • ••• • • ••«•... •... •... •... • • .«• •... • .*• • .«• •... • ...
ILLY HUXTER came back
from the meeting at al
most 12 o'clock, dead tired.
His wife had the coffee
hot for him, and brought
him in a steaming cup
without asking a ques
tion. Judith Hunter had
been out at service before
she married Billy, and she
had learned a good many
filings beside cooking beef
to a turn.
They had eight rooms In
the house, if you include the lean-to,
which was such a comfortable laundry
and summer kitchen for Judith. It was
a very good house indeed, and the gar
den was so large that Judith kept a tiny
poultry yard. Jn the summer it was
beautiful to sit on their own piazza and
be shaded by their tree (really' a tree
large enough to shade) and to look at
the honeysuckle and geraniums and the
green rows of onions and parsley. Xo
landowner in town could be prouder than
Billy had been yesterday of his little
domain. Xow his handsome brow wrin
kled sullenly’ above his black eyes and he
gazed about him in a dreary stare, see
ing and not seeing, like a man taking
farewell. He sighed before he drank
the coffee. His wife, still saying no
word, smoothed the short curls which his
liat had matted on his forehead. He
patted her hand. She was a tall wo
man. as tall as he. and of a fine, supple
figure. Her eyes were very bright and
her skin very clear, and slis had deli
cate. irregular features, which changed
so prettily when she talked that no one
ever found fault with their irregularity.
“It’s yon that I’m thinking about. Ju
dith. you and the kid.” said Hunter; lie
nodded his head toward the ojien door,
through which one could see a cradle-
rocker.
Are they going to strike, then?”
“Well, as bad. They' voted to send a
committee to Hollister and ask him to
submit their differences to an arbitration
committee, or they'll strike Monday.
Hollister won’t listen to them. Xot to
anybody. T guess, and not to Robb and
Luke Wigger, anyhow. He sent Luke
off a week ago. and the other man is
Johnny Mellin. who’s mild as skim milk
and was put on to represent us. He’ll
set there and git red in the face and
say. ’That’s right,’ to whoever speaks
last."
“But did you speak to them. Billy?
Did you say the things you were going
to?"
Billy's face grew red. “Yes. T did; and
I wish I hadn’t; I never made a speech
before; but felt so worked up about this
1 thought 1 could talk to the boys; jest
give 'em plain sense how this here strike
ain’t got a show on God’s earth of suc
ceeding; but—you'll say you got a fool for
a husband, all I could get out was some
fool thing about a strike that failed was
worse than no strike; and then Robb,
he got up. so slick and with such a lot
of fine, hig words abput organized labor
and tl)f great union behind us and cap
ital already on the run and he worked
'em up about those new fellers (and they
are a isgrace; they can't manage their
blast no how; and they may he killing
somebody any’ day!) and lie got the boys
fighting mad: and he called me his cau
tious friend—like I was a coward.' And
then they ail iiolltred. You see lie’s got
such a way with him, a little, smiling.
• •■*. 0—0- m-r-0 — 0 ••• • • •••G'*'® *•* ®'•'®***®'**®'•*® **‘® i
'God knows! I went to see Harry
Lossing, and says he: ‘Don’t von
let the hotheads fool vou. Hollister’s
got liip mad tip; he’s going to run his
business or quit. He knows whore he
can get some new men and if you strike,
lie’ll get them. You boys will maybe
fight a week, a month, two months; and
then you will have t 0 go back on his
terms, or you won’t have the chance to
go hack at all.’ ”
Judith clasped her hands together in
voluntarily.
“But if you strike, how will we pay
for the house?”
“XVc can't pay for the house. Xot un
less—”
He hesitated, and she completed the
word for him -
“Xot unless my brother could pay you
back what you lent him. But he’ll be
out of a job. too.”
Judith found no word of cheer; but
she did not ask him whether he could
not keep at work whatever the others
did. The workingman's wife recognizes
the workingman's code of honor as well
as he.
“There's only one man.” said Billy,
“who can do anything; that's Alderman
McGinnis—”
"Oh, Billy, won't he? But they sav
he’s a bad man, and you got some of
the boys to vote against him.”
“I don't know: that’s what Mr. Loss
ing said, and young Harry; and you liv
ing so long in their family and they
giving us such nice presents, of e.ourse.
I wanted to work like he asked; and I
didn't think it was right spending so
much money on the streets—though I
may be glad enough to come to a street
Job myself, little as 1 ever thought u:'
white-teethed feller and smart as a steel
trap, and there ain’t anything on earth
we working men like like a feller who
can talk.”
“Can’t lie see himself It’s crazy?”
“He sees we’ve got $2,000 in the treas
ury, and how we’ve been cut down and
cut down this winter; and he sees Hol
lister's got some big orders on now;
and that's all he does see. If you tell
him Hoillisters obstinate's the devil,
he jest laughs and says lie’s heard
folks threaten to bite off their noses to
spite their faces before, but they don t
do it all the. same, and can’t bluff
him. I don’t think Hollister’s so
had as they make out. But lie’s got the
devil’s own temper, when you git his
mad up. They’d have struck this very
same night if it hadn't b p en for young
Fitzmauriee.”
“But he don't belong to the union,
said Judith, who was now seated by her
husband, listening with absorbing in
ti rest, “liow’d he get in?”
“Well, we’ve had him for a lawyer,
'muse he worked for nothing and he was
a poor boy that's worked up: and he
certainly has done well by us. U ell,
he came in. In time to see Robb wipe up
the floor with me: and lie made a
speech. Said he Just got back to town
tiiis afternoon, with Alderman McGin
nis, and he wasn't prepared to speak,
but lie hoped they would give themselves
time to see tilings clear. Two things
was necessary, to have a good cause and
a fighting chance to win: so he srot
them to appoint the committee: that was
the best he could do." His wife looked
at him wistfully. “If they strike, will
it be a long strike, Billy?”
he added, with a groan. “I wish I
hadn't gone against him now, for I got
to go to see him. with Fitzmauriee and
young Lossing, tomorrow ”
“Will he help you, do you think.
Bill v 7”
“I ain't much hope. You see. he’s
after an oil or lard or some kind of in
spectorship, good pay and awful little
work; and Timberly can git it for him;
and Timberly’s for the strike and t bet
he won’t mad Timberly and the boys,
too."
“But why is Mr. Timberly for striking?
Don’t he know—”
“He don't care, Judy. He's running
for the legislature and he wants the
labor vote; so lie's making a big
splurge.”
"How smart you are, Billy, about such
things,” said the wife, proudly.
But the unfeigned praise only brought
a dark cloud to the man's brow. I
was forgetting another bad thing,” said
he “Morris, the foreman!! he is gofng
to Illinois, to his wife’s folks; lie's got
:t job there, and he told me today lie
recommended me to the boss: and he as
much as said he'd speak about me to
Hollister—”
“Oh, Billy, do you call that bad news?
It would he SI5 a month more; it would
pay the payments on the house!”
“Aral do you think,” said Billy, bit
terly. "do you think that they'll he mak
ing a striker a foreman? Xo; they'll
bring a strange feller, and put him
over us!”
He got u d: he began to walk the
floor in strong agitation. "Then it ain’t,
all that—It's more; I've worked at the
Hollister, man and boy, for almost lif-
By Octave Thanet •
Fifth in the Politic *
cal Series ?
tc i n years. Well I remember my poor
mother fetching me to Moore, who was
foreman then, and his promising me a
ji.ii. I began at a dollar and fifty cents
a week, and I was that proud—oh. Judy.
I ll be lost without the shop! One day
Hollister, the old man himself, went
through and seen me at a casting.
’That's 3 good job you're making, Hun-
1 ..i\’ says lie. Jie remembered my name.
He knows a good job when he seen one.
There’s good things about the old man.
if he is pig-headed.”
Alderman McGinnis was popularly sup
posed to hold the eighth ward in the
bo'low of his hand. Rumor wagged
her tongue and shook her head over the
alderman’s paving contracts (his own
private avocation was that of a con-
trj»qtor); she whispered how he led jun
keting parties of aldermen on visits to
other cities, at the expense of rival rail
ways. hoping to haul rival brickmakers’
liHek, and how they partook freely of
hospitality, both solid and liquid, fur
nished them; somehow, she declared
aloud, he was in every “job” ever passed
bv the city council. But the eighth
ward, after every explosion of virtue
on the part of his fellow-citizen outside,
grinned and reelocted Ai»" pm.an McGin
nis.
It was In the lutes: ursucees;.ul as
sault that young Harry Lossing had
locked horns with tne popular alderman—
and been defeated. He had spent days,
running about the town, marshaling
the languid and reluctant forces of the
“decent citizens" against a certain pav
ing contract of the alderman’s, and when
n M
CONTINUED ON LAST PAGE.