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AT TWENTY-TWO
“A
WEAVER went nut to reap, but stayed
to unravel the corn stalks. Ha! Ha'
Ha* Is there any sense In a weaver?"
The never-ending tussle had recommenced
Janki Meah glared at Kundoo. but as Jankt
Meah was blind. K*undoo was not impressed
ffe had come t*» argue with Janki Mean, ami
if chance favored, to make love to the old man’s
beautiful young wife
This was Kundoo’s grievance., and he spoke
In the name of all the five men who. with Janki
Meah. composed the gang in No. 7 gallery of
Twenty-two. Janki Mesh had haen blind for
the thirty years during which he had served
tha Jlmahari Collieries with pick and crowbar
All through those thirty years he had regu
larly, every morning before going down, tirewn
from the overseer his allowance of lamp-oil
just as If he had been an eyed miner. What
Kundoo’s gang resented, as hundreds of gangs
had resented before, was Janki Me&h’s selfish
ness. He would not add the oil to the eommon
stock of hts gang, but would save and sell it
‘T knew these workings before .you were
bom." Janki Meah used to reply. “I don’t want
the light to get my coal out by, and T am not
going to help you. The oil is mine, and T Intend
to keep It."
A strange man 1n many ways was Janki
Mesh, the white-haired, hot-tempered, sightless
%eaver who had turned pitman All day long
incept on Sundays snd Mondays, when ho was
#suaJlv drunk—he worked In the Twenty-two
shaft of the Jlmahari Colliery as clever as r.
man with all his senses. At evening he went
up In the great steam-hauled cage to the plt-
bank, and there called for his pony—a rusty,
coal-dusty beast, nearly as old as Janki Meah
The pony would come to his side, and Janki
Meah would clamber on to Its back and be
taken at once to tbe plot of land which he. Ilk**
tha other miners, received from the Jlmahari
Company. The pony knew that place, and when
after six years, the company changed all the
allotments, to prevent the miners acquiring
proprietary rights. Janki Meah represented, with
tears in his eyes, that were his holding shifted,
he would never k»e able to find his way to the
new one.
On the strength of this concession and his ac
cumulated oil-savings. Janki Meah took a sec
ond wife—a girl of the Jolaha main stock of
the Meahs. and singularly beautiful. Janki Meah
could not see her besuty; wherefore he took her
on trust, and forbade her to go down the pit.
He had not worked for thirty years in the dark
without knowing th;:t the pit was no place foi
pretty womtn. He loaded her with ornaments
not brass or pewter, but real silver ones -and
she rewarded him by flirting outrageously with
Kundoo. of No. 7 gallery gang Kundoo was
really the gang head, but Janki Meah Insisted
upon aJl the work being entered in bis own
name, and chose the men that he worked with
Custom—stronger even thau the Jlmahari Com
pany—dictated that Janki. by right of his years,
should manage these things, and should, also,
work despite his blindness.
Pyetty little Unda only knew that hjfcr old
husband was a fool who could be managed. She
took no Interest In the collieries except In so
far as they swallowed up Kundoo five days out
of the seven and covered him with coal-dust
Kundoo was a great workman, and did bis best
not to get drunk, because, when he had saved
forty rupees, Unda was to steal everything that
she could find In Jankl's house and run with
Kundoo "over tha hills and far away” to coun t N
tries where there were no mines and every one
kept three fat bullocks and a milch-buffalo
While this scheme was maturing it was his
amiable custom to drop in upon Janki ami
worry him aboqt the oil-savings. Unda sat in h
corner and nodded approval. On tbe night when
Kundoo had quoted that objeotlotntble proverb
about weavers. Janki grew angry,
"Listen, you pig," said he. "blind 1 am. and
old 1 am, but. before ever you were born, 1 was
gray among the coal. Even In the days when
the Twenty-two khad was unsunk and there
were not two thousand men here, 1 was known
to have all knowledge of the pits. Whit khad
is there that 1 do not know, from the bottom of
the shaft to the end of the last drive? Is It
the Haromba khad, the oldest, or the Twent>
two, where Tibu’s gallery runs up to Nuinbei
Five?"
"Hear the old fool talk"' said Kundoo. nod
ding to Unda. "No gallery of Twenty-two will
cut Into Five before the end of the Rains. We
have a month's solid coal before us. The slugs
Babuji says so."
"Babuji! Pigji Dogie’ What do these fat
from Calcutta know '.' He draws and draws and
draws, and talks and talks and talks, and his
maps are all wrong. T. Janki, know that this is
ao. When a man has been shut up In the dark
for thirty years, God gives him knowledge. The
old gallery that Tlbu’s gang made is not six
feet from Number Five"
Without doubt God gives the blind know I
rdge,” said. Kundoo, with a look at Unda "Let
it be as you say. 1. for my part, do not know
where Me* the s nl!ery of Tlbu* kuiik. but I
am not a withered monkey who needa oil to
grease hla Joints with."
Kundoo swun« out of the hul laUKhina, end
K l KB led. Janki turned his sbshllese eye-
loward hie wife and ewore. “I have land, and
, have sold a (treat deal of lamp-oil." mused
lankl "hut I was a fool to marry this < liild
a week later the Kalne set In with a venge
sm e. and the fan,, paddled about in coal-slu.h
a, the pit-banks Then the hi* mine-pumps
were , arte ready, and the nni«> »t the «,1
Iterv plowed through the wet towai.l the Ta. a
. hunda Itlver swelling bet ween Its soppy bonks
•l,ord send that this beastly berk does,, t mis
behave." said the manager piously, and he wen,
and took counsel with his assistant about the
' But the Tarachunda misbehaved very much
indeed. After a fall of three inches of rain 1.1
au hour it was obliged to do something. It
topped Its bank and Joined the Hood-water that
was hemmed between two low hills Jus, where
the embankment of the colliery main line
crossed. When a Rood part of a rain-fed rivei„
and a few acres of flood-water, make a dead set
r „r a nine-foot culvert, the culvert may spout
Its finest, but the water cannot all get out. The
manager pranced upon one leg with excitement,
pnd his language was improper.
The culvert spouted a nine-foot Rush, but the
water still formed, and word was sent to clear 1
the men out of Twenty-two. The cages came
up crammed and crammed again with the men
nearest the pit-eye, as they cr11 the place where
>.,u can ace daylight from the bottom of the
inajn shaft. All away and away, up the long
black galleries, the flare-lamps were winking
and dancing like so many Are-files, and the
men and the women watted for the clanking
rattling, thundering cages to come down and
fly up again. But the out-worklngs were very
rar off, and the word could not be passed
ifulckly. though the heads of the gangs and tin
assistant shouted and swore and tramped and
stumbled.
In a little time Ihere was a down-draw in tbe
water behind the embankment—-a sucking
whirlpool, all yellow and yeasty. The water
had smashed through the skin of the earth and
was pouring into the old shallow workings of
Twenty-two.
Deep down below ji rush of black water
.aught the last gang waiting for the cage, and
as they clambered in, the whirl was about thaii
waist* The rage reached the pit-bank, and tin-
manager called the roll The gangs were all
safe except Hang Janki. Gang Mdgtil and Hang
Rahim, eighteen men. with perhaps ten basket
women who loaded the coal into the little iron
carriages that ran oh the tramways of the main
, galleries. These gangs were in the out-work
ings. three-quarters of a mile away, on the
extreme fringe of the mine. Once more the
• ago went down, but with only two Englishmen
in it. and dropped Into a swirling, roaring cui
lent that had almost touched the roof of some
of the lower side-galleries.
The cage drew out of the water with a splash
and a few minutes later It was officially re
ported that there were at least ten feet of w^
By Rudyard Kipling
‘Little Unda stood at the pit-mouth calling down the shaft.
ter in the pit's-eye. Now. ten feet of water
there meant that all other places in the mine
were flooded except such galleries as were more
than ten feet above the level of the bottom of
ihe shaft. The deep workings would be full,
the main galleries would be full, but in the
high workings reached by inclines from the
main roads there would be a certain amount of
air cut off, so to speak, by the water and
squeezed up by It.
* • • * * • •
By the Holy drove, what has happened to
the air!” Tt was A Sonthal gangman of (Jang
Mogul in No. 9 gallery, and he was driving a
six-foot way through the coal. Then there was
a rush from the other galleries, and dung Janki
und Gang Rahim stumbled up with their bas
ket-women.
“Water has come In the mine,” they said,
and there is no way of getting out.”
“I went down,” said Janki, "down the slope
of my gallery, and 1 felt the water.”
"There has been no water in the cutting In
our time." clamored the women. "Why cannot,
we go away?” "
"Re silent," said Janki. "Long ago. wharf* my
father was here, water came to Ten no, Eleven
cutting, and there was great trouble. Let us
get away to where the air is better.”
The three gangs and the basket-women left
No. 9 gallery and went further up No. 16. At
one turn of the rood they could see the pitchy
black water lapping on the coal. It hud touched
the roof of a gallery that they knew’ well—a
gallery where they used to smoke their hupas
and conduct their flirtations.
Far away down the gallery a small pumping-
engine, used for keeping dry a deep working
und fed with steam from above, was faithfully
throbbing. They heard it cease.
“They have cut off the steam,' said Kundoo
hopefully. “They have given the order to use
all the steam for the pit-bank pumps. They
wljl clear out the water.”
"If the water has reached the smoking-gal
lery," said Janki, "all the company’s pumps can
do nothing for three days.”
"It is very hot,” moaned Jasoda, the Meah
basket-woman. “There is a very bad air here
because of the lamps."
"Put them out.” said Janki. "why do you
want lamps.”’ The lamps were put out amid
protests, and the company sat still in the utter
dark. Somebody rose quietly and began walking
over the coals. It was Janki, who was touching
the walls with his hands. “Where is the ledge?''
h-• -murmured to himself.
“Sit, sit!” said Kundoo "If we die. we die.
The air is very bad.”
But Janki still stumbled and crept and tapped
with his pick upon the walls. The women rose
to their feet.
“Stay all where you are. Without the lamps
you cannot see, and I—I am always seeing,'
said Janki. Then he paused and called out:
"Oh you who have been In the cutting more
than ten years, what is the name of this open
place” I am an old man and I have forgotten.'
“Bulia’s Room,” answered the ftonthal who
had complained of the vlleness of the air.
"Again," said Janki.
"Bullia’s Room.”
"Then T have found it," said Janki. “The
name only had slipped my memory. Tibu’s
gang gallery is here.”
"A lie,” said Kundoo. “There have been no
galleries in this place since my day.”
“Three paces was the depth of the ledge,”
muttered Janki without heeding, “and—oh, my
poor bones!—I have found it! It 1m here, up th'.s
ledge. Come all you, one by one, to the plu^e
of my voice, and I will count you.”
There was a rush in the dark, and Janki felt
Hie first man’s face hit his knees as the Sonthal
scrambled up the ledge.
"Who?” cried Janki.
”1, Sunua Manjl."
“Sit you down,” said Janki. “Who next?”
One by one the women and the men crawled
up the ledge which ran along one side of “Bul
lia’s Room.”
“Now follow after,” 'said he, “catching hold
of mv heel, and the women catching the men’s
clothes.” lie did not ask whether tbe men had
brought their picks with them. A miner, black
or white, does not drop his pick. One by one.
Janki leading, they crept into the old gallery-
a six-foot way with a scant four feet from
thill to roof. *
"The air is fetter here,’ said Jasoda They
could hear lief heart beating in thick, sick
bumps.
"Slowly, slowly," said Janki. “I am an old
man. and I forget many things. This Is Tlbu’s
gallery, bpt where are the four bricks where
they used to put their liupa fire on when the
Sahibs never saw Slowly, slowly. O you people
behind.”
They heard his hands disturbing the small
coal on the floor of the gallery and then a dull
sound. “This is one unbaked brick, and this is
another and another. Kundoo is a young man-
let him come forward. Put a knee upon this
brick and strike here. When Tibu’s gang were
at dinner on the last day before the good coal
ended. they heard the men of Five on the other
side, and Five worked their gallery two Sun
days later—or it may h.ave been one. Strike
there, Kundoo, but give me room to go back
Kundoo, doubting, drove the pick, but the
first soft crash of the coal was a call to him.
He w*ae fighting for his life and for Unda-
pretty little Unda with rings on all her toes
for Unda and the forty rupees. The women
sang the Song of the Pick—the terrible, slow,
swinging melody with the muttered chorus that
repeats the sliding of the loosened coal, and, t,>
each cadence, Kundoo smote in the black dark.
When he could do no more, Supua Manjl took
the pick and struck for his life and his Wife,
and his village beyond the blue hills over the
Tarachunda River. An hour the men worked,
and then the women cleared away the coal.
“It is further than I thought." said Janki.
The air is very bad. but strike, Kundoo, strike
hard."
Fei- the fifth time Kundoo took up the pick
as the Sonthal crawled back. Th’e song had
scarcely recommenced when it was broken by
a yell from Kundoo that echoed down the gal
lery: "Par hua! Par hua! We are through, we
are through!" The imprisoned air in the mine
shot through the opening, and the women at
the far end of the gallery heard the water rush
through the pillars of "Bullia’s Room" and roar
against the ledge. Having fulfilled the law
under which It worked, it rose no further. The
women screamed and pressed forward. The
water has come—we shall be killed! Het us go!
Kundoo crawled through the »ap and found
himself in a propped gallery by the simple
process of hitting Ills head against a beam.
”l)o I know the pits or do I not?" chuckled
Janki. "This is the number Five; go you out
slowly, giving me your names. Ho! Rahim,
count your gang! Now let us go forward, each
catching hold of the other as before.”
They formed a line In the darkness, and Janld
led them—for a pitman in a strange pit Is only
one degree less liable to err than an ordinal)
mortal underground for the first time. At last
they saw a flare-lamp, and Hangs Janki. Mogul
and Rahim of Twenty-two srumbled dazed into
the glare of the draught-furnace at the bottom
of Five; Janki feeling his way and the rest
behihd-
“Water has come into Twenty-two. God
knows where are the others. 1 have brought
these men from Tibu’s gallery in our cutting
making connection through the north side o
the gallery. Take us to the cage,” said Jank
Meah.
• * * • * * •
At the pit-bank of Twenty-two some thousanr
people clamored and wept and shouted. Oih
hundred men—one thousand men—hail bc-ei
drowned in the cutting. They would all gy tr
their homes to-morrow. Where were their me^i
Little Unda, her scarf drenched with the rain
stood at the pit-mouth calling down the shat
lor Kundoo. They had swung the cages clear o
tlie mouth, and her only answer was the mur
mur of the flood in the pit’s-eye two hundre
and sixty feet below.
“Look after that woman! Shell chuck her.
self down the shaft in a minute,” shouted th;
manager.
Rut he need not have troubled; Unda wa:
afraid of death. She wanted Kundoo. Thi
assistant wag watching the flood and seeing how
far he could wade Into it. There was a lull It
tlie water, and the whirlpool had slackened. Th«
mine was full, and the people at the pit-banl
howled.
"My faith, we shall be lucky if we have flv«
hundred hands in the place to-morrow J .” salt
the manager. “There's some chance yet of run
ning a temporary dam across that water. Shov<
in anything—tubs and bullock-carts of y<»;
haven't enough bricks. Make them work ndw i
they never worked before. Hi! you ganger-
make them work!”
Little by little the crowd was broken into de
tachments, and pushed toward the water wit!
promises of overtime. The dam-making began
and when it was fairly under way, the manage
thought that the hour had come for the pumps
There was no fresh inrush into the mine. Th«
tall, red, iron-clamped pumpbeam rose and fell
and the Dumps snored and guttered and shrieked
as the first, water poured out of the pipe.
“We must run her all to-night,” said the
manager wearily, “but there’s no hope for thi
poor devils down below. Look here, Gur Sahai
if you are proud of your engines, show me wha
they can do now.”
Gur Sahai grinned and nodded, with his righ
hand upon the lever and an oil-can In his left
He could do no more than he was doing, but hi
could keep that up till the dawn. WeTe 'th*
company's pumps to be beaten by the vagaries
of that troublesome Tarachunda River? Never
never! And the pumps sobbed and panted
Never, never!” The manager sat in the shelter
of the pitbank roofing, trying to dry himsel
by the pump-boiler Are, and, in the dreary dtksk
lie saw the crowds on the dam scatter and fly
“That's the end,” he groaned. “ ’Twill tak<
us six weeks to persuade ’em that we haven'
tried to drown their mates on purpose. Oh, fo
a decent, rational Geordie!”
Rut the flight had no panic in it. Men ha<
run over from Five with astounding news, an.
the foremen could not hold their gangs to
gather. Presently, surrounded by a clamorou
crew, Gangs Rahim, Mogul and Janki, a.id tei
basket-women walked up to report themselves
and pretty little Unda stole away to Janki':
hut to prepare his evening meal.
•Alone I found the way,” explained .Tank
Meah, “and now will the companv give m
pension ?”
The simple pit-folk shouted and leaped an<
went back to the dam. reassured in their oh
belief that, whatever happened, so great was th
power of the company whose salt they aXe, non
of them could be killed. But Gur Sahai onl
bared his white teeth and kept his hand upd
Hie lever and proved his pumps to the uttermosi
*«.****•
“I say,’’ said the assistant to the manager,*#.’
week later, "do vou recollect 'Germinal’?”
••Yes. Queer thing. I thought of it in th
edge when that balk went by. Why?”
“Oh, this business seems to be ‘Germinal’ up
side down. Janki was in my veranda all thi
morning, telling me that Kundoo had elope,
with his wife—Unda or Anda, I think her nam
S ' Hillo! And those were the cattle tliat vo
risked vour life to clear out of Twenty-two!”
• Xo—lj W a S thinking of the company’s prop*
not tl>e company’s men.”
“Sounds better to say so now; but I dor.’
believe you, old fellow.”
WHEN A WOMAN WILLS
By Elliott Flower
I T was on the Canadian Pacific leaving Winni
peg that T met K«ty of Calgary, although 1
did not then know her by that name, and it
• w*s on the same train that 1 met Gray, of
Chicago.
1 was fortunate enough to get. a lower berth
—Lower 6—and Katy was unfortunate enough
to have to take an upper—Upper 6. She was »
young woman of perhaps twenty or twenty-one
and pulchritudinally all that could be desired.
Now you know how Katy and 1 became ac
quainted. I offered to exchange berths with her
when the conductor informed her that there
ware no lowers left. Of course, she protested
that she would not think of Inconveniencing
me. but I Insisted upon the exchange, ami
well, I left her in full possession while I spent
an hour in the smoking room, where 1 met Gray
Gray—you must know Lawrence Gray before
I can really get Into this story—was a bright
energetic young fellow of about twenty-five oi
twenty-six.
He was a Chicago bond salesman on his first
special mission. After a somewhat lurid college
career, for which a too liberal allowance from
a rich and Indulgent father w as largely resptm
siblSk, he had settled down, had “made good"
so far as he had gone, and finally had been en
trusted with this special mission. He had some
bond propositions that the house had been en
oouraged to think would “look good” in west
ern Canada, and letters of introduction to v*
pious men who might be helpful to hint.
Katy—I must also give some preltminar> in
formation with regard to her, to avoid inter
rupting my narrative later was known to me
then as Miss Katherine Campbell She ri.mned
Calgary as her home and was returning to it
after a visit with some friends in Toronto. He:
father had been unfortunate enough to die
while engaged in some speculative enterprise
leaving his affairs in such chaotic condition
that the administrators of the estat« were .-till
trying to find out whether his widow and daugl
ter were rich or poor.
Gray met Katy through me, and the\ became
great friends She learned that hr wai a bond
salesman, but that conveyed nothing to h*-
mind. She knew as little about bonds as ill*
•tract arab does about the Milky W.\ ut I
discovered that she was not so unsophieu cated
in some other phases of business activity
“Bonds!" she repeated, after bearing then,
mentioned several times. "What are bond*
Gray had just left us. and the question was
addressed to me. I answered it a* best I could
“The security for bonds may be real estat*
then?’’ she queried
' “Yes." I replied
“Well, why not own the real estate and take
.all the profitsT' she demanded.
* I tried to explain again the theory and put
pose of bonds, hut she was not impressed.
She laughed merrily. “And Mr. Grav is going
t*. <'a’<ar> to sell bondsf* she inquired
Thai s shut he says." 1 responded
"Well, he has n lovely chanefe'" she chortled
“They’ll chuck his bonds in the waste-basket
and sell hltn some real estate,” she asserted
confidently.
I told hhn w hat she \»ald about bonds, but
he was not disturbed
"There’s always a lot of cra*\ real estate
speculation In growing towns,” he said, "but
you'll find that the solid, conservative cltisens
build their fortunes on a foundation of safe in
vestment. Only the light-headed are stampeded
bv the get-rich-quick propositions. Neither 1
nor the men with whom T do business are in
that class.” %
l remembered this when Katy brought up
the subject again. She continued to find amuse
ment in Gray's mission, and made occasional
humorous references to it. although never in
his presence.
l.et me see," was her aggravating sally on
• me Of these occasions “I’ll give him about
forty-eight hours to forget the bonds ami begin
buying real estate”
"i'll bet you" 1 began, using the phrase
as « mere figure of speech and without serious
intent.
"What would you like to bet?" she Intel
rupted lightly.
of course, I was not going to back down, and
a few minutes later 1 discovered that I had bet
• five-pound box of -candy, which 1 would nat
orally present to her If I won. that Gray, of
whom 1 knew lbs* then than 1 have already
disclosed in tins narrative, would prove n bet
ter salesman than any Canadian real estate
owner, agent or promoter.
You see." I explained, when this was set
tied. "I have all the best of it. He is not goinc
to invest in anything in the way of real prop
•■rtv so far from home, and he has a proposition
that Appeals to conservative investors ever> -
where because of its safety."
"What's safer than real esiate?” she retorted
V bond is nothing but a piece of paper, but
i cal estate has real value "
“Fluctuating value,” I objected
But fluctuating upward—in a li\e town.
>he retorted.
"It lias been known to go the other wav." I
argued.
t si>l * n H town a growing town." she
declared “and you can fairly see Calgary grow
\ town may be overboomed, ' 1 suggested
it its growing It will catch up with the
boom.’ she returned confidently. "All vou have
t • do is to wait for your price Her eyes be
gan to light up with enthusiasm now “Am
hod> tan make money on real estate by hold
ing ,t. and sometimeb you have to bold it or.lv
over night!"
A oii re extremely loyal." I commented
1 saw little .if Katy after that, although she
r «V °bP'n tunity for an occasional nmliciour
nine wit” regard to the relative attractions
''"fds and real estate Indeed. I was *.» H--
Moust> out of it." except as -she seemed to d»
v \ ' - l-m- Httlc pleasure from her effort*
teas* me, that 1 let Gray take charge of hei
hand baggage and deliver her to her waiting
mother when we reached Calgary in the early
morning of the second day.
Gray and I W’ent to the same hotel, and we
had breakfast together. It was Sunday morning,
but just acres* the table from us two men w’ere
neglecting breakfast to engage in an earnest
business discussion. The first was trying to
sell the second a building lot. and the second
was trying to soli the first a farm. Each ex
patiated glowingly, and without much regard
to what the other was saying, upon the merits
of his own proposition, but they finally ar
ranged the terms of a trade rather than do no
business at all.
I nudged Gray.
They do seem to be a bit ‘cracked’ on real
estate," he admitted, “but it's of no conse
quence.’’
In the afternoon Gray disappeared, but l had
plenty of amusement. A young man with whom
1 fell into casual conversation tried to sell me
«« Outlying lot. “If you have a bit of idle
money,” he assured me, “it's a great chance."
I refused to be interested, but 1 wondered
how this atmosphere would affect Gray.
He returned about supper time and remarked
casually. “She asked why l didn’t . bring ybu
along. '
Who adked?" I demanded.
W hy, Miss Campbell, of course," lie replied.
“Oh!" 1 returned. “Well, why didn’t you?”
“t didn’t know- you wanted to go." he ex
plained.
"Well, I didn’t!" 1 asserted with unnecessary
emphasis. “1 don’t intend to buy any Calgary
leal estate."
Gray laughed, which further irritated me.
“She’ll have you buying some, if fou don't
watch out,’’ 1 warned.
“Oh, no,” lie returned carelessly. “On the
contrary, if she had any money I’d sell her
some bonds.” #
I hail business to attend to myself the fol
lowing day, but somehow there was always
something to remind me of Gray and his prob
lem. One man that 1 called on began talking
real estate as soon as we had transacted our
business. 1 retaliated by talking bonds but he
was not interested.
1 began to feel sorry for Gra>
However. I had discovered that bonds were
an excellent protection from local financial as
sault. and I promptly brougnr me subject up
‘gain when a young man tried to interest me
in some property.
" Bonds!" he exclaimed scornfully. "Bonds!
li'it do 1 want of bonds ' Say! I bought an
pptlon on a' piece of property, gave my note
for it. sold it. took up the note, and had two
hundred dollars clear- all in seven days Jus*
show me m»w you can make two hundred dol
lars out of nothing in bonds, will you?"
I was certainly sorry for Gray, and 1 may
admit that m.v wager with Katy did not now
loo:, mutt as sat* ,ma certain a Hung as it had
It was Katy herself who Interrupted my
meditations. I was plodding along toward the
hotel when she, driving an old gray horse at
tached to a rather shabby buggy, drew up at
the curb and beckoned to me. I confess to a
sudden and very distinct feeling of pleasure at
tbe sight of her.
"If you have a little money to Invest —
she began, banteringly.
"I am not Investing,” T said.
"There’s a rare bargain T’d like to show you.
she persisted.
I got in and seated myself beside her.
"Do you know.” 1 said, as the old horse
ambled along, “for a moment I thought you
were In earnest?”
“In what?” she asked.
■ In wanting to show me real estate."
"Well, I am,” she returned with a mystifying
smile.
“I’m almost ready to believe it,’’ 1 declared.
“I’ve been dodging bargains all day, and I’m
particularly afraid of you.”
“Why?” she inquired.
"You’re such an enthusiast! T explained
"Of course,” she agreed. “Why shouldn’t I
be? I can see the glorious future, and I want
others to see and share it. We all do—not so
much for our own sakes as for theirs. It's
really a philanthropic matter.”
"Oh. come!” T protested. “Don’t try to jolly
me!”
"It’s quite true,” she asserted, still with the
mystifying smile that left me uncertain just
how much of this was banter. “We are able
to see the city’s wonderful future! Why, figure
it out for yourself: In ten years the population
has increased from 6,000 to 60,000. The same
percentage of increase for another ten years'
will give us 600.000. and .ten years more will
make it 6.000,000. and still another ten years
W ill"
Then we both laughed- it was all so abso
lutely ridiculous
I found Gray awaiting me when T got back
to the hotel, and he was not in good humor.
"No luck?" 1 queried.
"Luck!” he snorted. "Why. you couldn't sell
these people ten-dollar gold pieces at a fifty
per cent discount unless they were coined in
Galgary! The first man I saw wouldn't listen
to me after he learned that my securities were
not the bonds of anv concern having a local
plant or branch. The second seemed deeply
interested, and after ^reading my letters and
hearing what I had to say he became quite en
thusiastic and assured me I had a big chance
to do a great stroke of business. ‘AIT you’ve
got to do.’ he said, is to market your bonds in
the United States and invest tbe money up here '
The third was a railroad official, and I had
to duck out in a hurry or he’d have sold me
• n irrigated farm. The fourth—but what's tin-
use " he ended disgustedL
Nevertheless, he seemed u table it* get up suf
ficient spunk to see anv one else, with the ex
ecution of Katy. I saw him driving with hot
two day’s later, j did not like it. It was none
of my business, of course, but 1 did not like it.
A man standing near me in the hotel entrance
followed my gaze and nodded. "Smart girl,
that!” lie remarked.
“Yes?” 1 returned.
"Smart as they make ’em,” he assured me
“She can sell more real estate than any two
men.”
"She what!” T cried.
"Sell real estate,” he repeated in surprise.
"That’s her business, you know"
"Her business!”
"Why, yes. What's the matter with you—
naturally dull-witted or w’hat?”
"Nothing,” I replied; “nothing at all.” And
I laughed. Boor Gray! Nothing doing in bonds,
but plenty in real estate. What chance had
he? “Tell me about her,” I urged.
"Started in to sell real estate after her father
died,” explained my informant. “Trying to clear
off her father’s involved estate, T imagine
Hasn’t been at it long, but she’s done mighty
well. Works on commission mostly, but there's
one piece of property of her own or her mother s
I guess it's her mother’s—that she s trying
to sell for about twice \vhat it’s worth. She’ll
do it, too.’’ , .
I went to call on her that evening.
•You took an unfair advantage of me, ’ J
charged.
In what way?” she asked.
"I didn't know you were in the real estate
business yourself."
oh. were all in the real estate business
here.” she asserted.
"But you can’t win your own bet, I argued.
“Watch me!" she retorted.
"I mean vou shouldn’t,” I corrected.
"Why not?" she demanded. "Is there any
reason why I shouldn’t do Mr. Gray a favor if
I wish?”
“A favor!" I repeated.
" \ favor, certainly.” she maintained, again
with that aggravating smile. "Anybody who
gets real estate here is favored."
"And you're going to sell to him yourself?”
"If I can."
"That pretty little place up at the north end,
perhaps?” I suggested.
"If 1 can.” she said again: “hut you ought
not to complain." she added, “for I gave you
first chance at it."
“The price is exorbitant,” 1 asserted*
•No one is obliged to pay it,” she retorted
"Nevertheless, 1 shall warn him,” 1 threat
ened.
"Why, of course," she agreed. "That will
make it more interesting. \Or you might buy it
y ourself."
1 have no use for it—at the price.” I de
clared.
"Oh. well, if you have no use for it." she re
turned. “I’ll not urge it. Rut perhaps Mr. Gra\
has,” she added significantly. Then, with sud
den directness, “Why are you so concerned
about it?”
% Why was 1 ’ It was no affair of mine, and
> et I was making it almost a personal griev
ance.
"Does a box of candy mean so much to vou?"
she bantered.
It whs not that, of course, but—oh. well. I
finally retired in some confusion, and I was
sure 1 heard her laugh e.\ultingl.\ as the dooj
closed behind tnc.
1 told Gray she was merely a real estate
agent, but he was not disturbed. .
“Just the same,” I insisted, “she’ll sell yo
some of this property if you don’t watch out.
“Perhaps she will,” he returned indifferently
“A fine joke,” I commented, “for a man t
come up here to sell bonds and end by buyinj
real estate!”
“It would be amusing,” he agreed.
“Perhaps you’re thinking of buying that prop
erty up at the north end?” I suggested.
"Well, perhaps I am,” he admitted.
"It’s her own property,” I told him.
No,” he returned; “her mother’s.”
"Same thing,” I asserted.
"Not at all,” he contended. “It’s about al
that Mrs. Campbell will ever get out of th
estate, and Miss Campbell naturally wants t*
do the best she can with it.”
“I should think she did!” I exclaimed. "Th
price is absurd.”
“She does hold it pretty high,” he conceded
but it may be worth the price—to me.”
I was more disgruntled than ever—not tha.
1 wanted the house myself, but I did not Ilk
to feel that my confidence in him had bee:
misplaced. And why should it he worth th
price to him? What would make it worth mop
to him than to me?
A few days later he informed me that he ha
about decided to buy the property. s ‘But I’l
have to write home for the cash,” he explained
,1 was disgusted. I was so disgusted thai
after a period of perturbed reflection, I wen
to see Katy again.
“Is that property still on the market?’’
asked.
“That north end property of mother's?”
"Yes.”
"It is.” she said. “Mr. Gray is”
"Not yet.”
He needs to be protected from his owj
folly,” I declared, “and I may take it myself.
I thought you had no use for it.” she ban
tered.
"I may have," I returned.
"At the price?”
At the price. Tt has occurred to me tha
there's a way I might use it.”
Then why don’t you?” she asked.
“1 suppose,” I ventured, “it could he mad
irresistibly attractive.”
“It might be,” she admitted, “in some cir
■ umstances.” *
Tell me how,” T urged.
“I’ll show you.” she replied: and a momq*
later she added, not so Irrelevantly as it woul
seem to another than myself, “Do you know,
think I knew before you did that you woul
find it a bargain?”
Gray and Katy and I were together, but Qm
was not monopolizing Katy’s attention thi
time.
I broke the news to him gently. "Gray.”
said. “I’ve saved y^u.”
"Saved me! he repeated.
"Saved you from your own folly." I explainer
I've bought the house myself. You see, I ha
tn do it to win a bet."
"A bet!" he pondered. "What was the Net ’
"A box of candy." I informed him.
A box of candy!" he echoed. "You bough
the house at the price to win a”
"Oh. the price doesn't matter,*’ I interrupter
'when it’s all in the -family.''
"Oh.’ he commented.;, "that's it. is it,?’’
I nodded htt*i K*ntv bhrshed ‘'WeTI fnvit
you to tiie wedding," 1 promised.