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4
AT TWENTY-TWO
By Rudyard Kipling
“A
LEAVER went out to reap, but stayed
to unravel the corn stalk*. Ha! Ha!
Ha! Is there any sense In a weaver?"
The never-ending tussle had recommenced
Jankl Mcah glared at Kundoo. but, as Janki
Meah w«g blind. Kundoo wa* not impressed
We had come to argue with Janki Mean, and,
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 ail the five men who, with Janki
Meah. composed tho gang in No. 7 gallery of
Twenty-two. Janki Meah had been blind for
the thirty years during wht* h he had served
the Jlmaharl Collieries with pick and crowbar
All through those thirty years he had regu
larly, every morning before going down, drawn
from the overseer his allowance of lamp-oil—
Just as If he had been an ayed miner. What
Kundoo’s gang resented, as hundreds of gang*
had resented before, was Janki Meah s selfish
ness He would not sdd the oil to the common
etook of his gang, but would save and sell it
“I knew these workings before you were
born." Janki Meah used to reply; "I don’t want
the ltght to get my coal out by. and I am not
going to halp you. The oil is mine and T intend
to keep it."
A strange man in many ways was Janki
Meah, the white-haired, hot-tempered, sightless
Weaver who had turned pitman. All day long
<gpcept on Sundays and Mondays, when he wss
Wrually drunk—he worked In the Twenty-two
shaft of the Jlmaharl Colliery ax clever as a
man with all hls senses. At evening he went
up la the great steam-hauled nag© to the pit
bank. and there railed for hla pony—-a rusty,
coal-dusty beast, nearly as old as Janki Meah
The pony would coma to hls side, and Janki
Meah would clamber on to Ita back and be
taken at once to the plot of land which he, 11V©
the other minern, received from the Jlmaharl
Company. The pony knew that place, and when,
after six years, the company changed all the
allotments, to prevent tho miners acquiring
proprietary rights. Janki Meah represented, with
teara In hls ayes, that were hls holding shifted,
he would never be able to And bis way to the
new one.
On the strength of this concession and hls sc
cumulated oil-savings. Janki Meah took a sec
i>nd wife—-a girl of the Jolaha main stock of
the Meahe; and singularly beautiful. Janki Meah
could not see her beauty: 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 that the pit was no place for
pretty women He loaded her with ornaments
not braes or pewter, hut real silver ones- and
she rewarded him by flirting outrageously with
Kundoo. of No. 7 gallery gang Kundoo was
really the gang head, hut Janki Meah Insisted
upon all the work being entered In hi* own
name, end chose the man that he worked wlt^
Custom—stronger even than the Jlmaharl Com-
pany—dictated that Janki. by right of hls years. *
ahould manage those thing*, and should, alsh.
werk despite his blindness
Pretty little Unda only knew that her old
husband was a fool who could bo inaimged. She
took no interest in the collieries except in so
far aa they swallowed up Kundoo five days out
of the eeven and covered him with qual-aul)
Kundoo was a great workman, and did hls ball
not to get drunk, because, when he hail saved
forty rupees. Unda was to steal everything that
she oould find in Jankl'e house and run witji
Kundoo "over the hills and far a wav” to eoun
tries where tbore were no mine* and every on*',
kept three fat bullocks and a milch-buffalo
While this scheme was inatui ln>, it was hi*
amiable custom to drop In upon Janki and
worry him about the oil Having* Unda sat in a
corner and nodded approval. On the night when
Kundoo bad quoted that objectionable proverb
about weavers. Janki grew angry.
"Listen, you pig.” said he. "blind 1 am. and
old 1 am, but. before ever you wore born, I w«h
gray among the coal. Kven lit the days when
the Twenty-two khed wae unsuuk and there
were not two thousand men here. 1 was known
to have all knowledge of the pits, Whst khad
Is there that I do not know, from the bottom of
the shaft to the end of the last drive? Is it
the Haromba khad, ths oldest, or the Twenty
fwo. wltere Tibu’s gallery runs up to Numb*:
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 Rain*. We
have a month's solid coal before us. The slugs
Uabujl say# so."
"Habuji! Plgji Logic’ What do these fat
from Calcutta know? He draws and draws and
draws, and talks and talks and talks, and hi*
maps are all wrong. T, Janki. know that this l*
ho. When a man hau been shut up in the dark
for thirty years, God gives him knowledge The
old gallery that Tibu’s gang made is not six
feet from Number Five."
• Without doubt God gives the blind know!
sdge." said Kundoo, with a look at Unda. "Let
It be as you say. I. for my part, do not know
where Ilea the gallery of Tibu’s gang, but I
am not a withered monkey who needs oil to
grease hls joints with."
Kundoo swung out of the hut laughing, and
Unda giggled Janki turned hls slghtl*** eye*
toward hls wife and swore. "I have land and
f have sold a great deal of lamp-oil.” mused
janki. "but I was a fool to marry this child
A week later the Hains set in with a venge
.nr., and the |.addl«rt ebont In
at the pit*be.uk,. Then the bis mine pump-
were mad. reedy, end the manager of the oo!
llery plowed through the wet toward “’" Ter 3
rhunda Klver swelling between It, •«PPjr banka
l.ord .end that thl. b,-natty beck doenn t
behave," .aid the manager plounly, and he went
>Ln ,I took counsel with hla aenlatant about the
" U l'iTt M the Taraehunda mlabehaved very mueh
Indeed After a fall of three Inches of rain in
an hour It watt obliged to do somethin* It
topped Ita bank and Joined the flood-water .hat
wan hemmed between two low hllla JuhI where
the embankment of the colliery main line
oroaeed. When a good part of a rain-fed river,
and a few acre* of flood-water, make a dead net
for a nine-foot culvert, the culvert may apuut
Ita finest, but the water cannot all get out. The
manager pranced upon one leg with excitement,
and hi* language wrh Improper.
The culvert spouted a nine-foot gush, but the
water still formed, and word was sent to cleat
the men out of Twenty-two. The cage* came
up crammed and crammed again with the wen *■
nearest the pit-eye. an they call the place where
you can see daylight from the bottom of the
main shaft. All away and away, up the long
black galleries, the flare-lamps were winking
und dancing like so many llra-flles, and the
men and the women waited for the clanking,
rattling, thundering cages to come down and
fly up again. Hut the out-workings were ver\
far off, and the word could not be passed
lulckly. though the heads of the gangs and th*
insist ant shouted and swore and trumped and
•tumbled-
In a little time there was a down-draw in the
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 a. rush of black watei
( aught the last gang waiting for the cage, ami
as they clambered In, the whirl was about their
waist* The cage reached the pit-bank, and the
manager called the roll. The gangs were all
safe except Gang Janki. Gang Mogul and dang
Rahim. eighteen man, with perhaps ten hasket-
women who loaded the coal Into the little Iron
carriages that ran on ths tramways of the main
galleries. These gunge w#ro ttt the out work
.lugs, three-quarters of a mile away, on the
extreme fringe of the mine Once more the
cage went down, but with only tw'o Englishmen
In It. and dropped »nto a swirling, roaring cur
rent 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 lattfl- it was officially re
ported that there were at least ten feet of ws
' ,1 • ' '*V •*' mZdiS
:p '■
.. (
»'U- >!••;.'; ; >'/. W. ’ *■ -V 4
, a—a
——- “ ■ .1 ■ ..•y*
‘Little Unda stood at the pit-mouth calling down the shaft.”
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
the 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 Bpeak, by the water and
squeezed up by it.
• • • * • * «
By the Holy Grove, what has happened to
the air!" It was a Bonthal gangman of Gang
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 Gang Janki
and Gang Rahim stumbled up with thoir bas
ket-women.
"Water has come in the mine," they said.
' and therejs no way of getting out."
"I went down," said Janki, "down the slope
of my gallery, and I felt the water."
"There has been no water In the cutting in
our time." clamored the women. "Why cannot
ws go away?"
"Be silent.” said Janki. '‘Long ago. when m\
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 ganus and the basket-women left
No. 9 gallery and went further up No. 16. At
one turn of the road they could see the pitohy
black water lapping on the coal. It had touched
the roof of a gallery that they knew well—a
gallery where they used to smoke their htrpas
and conduct their flirtations.
Far away down the gallery a small pumping -
engine, used for keeping dry a deep working
and fed with steam from above, was faithfully
throbbing. They hoard It cease.
"They have cut off the steam.” said Kundoo
hopefully. "They have given the order t> use
all the steam for the pit-bank pumps. They
will 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."
"Hut them out," said Janki, "why do you
want lamps?" Tho 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 w r as touching
the walls with his hands. "Where is the ledge?”
lie murmured to himself.
"Sit, sit!” said Kundoo. "]f we die. we die.
The air is very bad."
Hut 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 1—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."
“Rulia’s Room,” answered the Lonthal who
had complained of the vileness of the air.
"Again," said Janki.
"Bullta's Room."
"Then I 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 Is here, up this
ledge. Come all you, one by one, to the place
of my voice, and I will count you.”
There was a rush in the dark, and Japkl felt
tiie first man’s face hit his knee* as the Southal
scrambled up the ledge.
"Who?" cried Janki.
"I, 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-
liq’B Room ”
"Now follow after." said he, "catching hold
of rnv heel, and the women catching the men’s
clothes.” He did not ask whether the men ha l
b/ought their picks with them. A miner, black
Or white, does not drop hls pick. One by one,
.Ttinkl leading, they crept into the old gallery
a six-foot way with a scant fouf feet from
thill to roof.
"The air is better here.” said Jasoda. The>
could hear hef heart beating in thick, sick
bumps.
"Slowly, slowly,” said Janki. "1 am an old
man. and I target mkny things This is Tibu’s
gallery, but where pre the four bricks whet*
they used to put their hupa 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
i «ound. “Thl? ip one unbaked brick, and this is
another and another. Kundoo.is -a young man- 3 -
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
1 ended, they hoard the men of Five on the other
side, and Five worked their gallery two Sun
days later—or It may have been one. Strike
there, Kundoo. but give me room to go back '
Kundoo, doubting, drove the pick, but the
first soft crash of the cool was a call to hint*.
He was 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.
HWinging melody with the muttered chorus that
repeats the sliding of the loosened coal, and, to
each cadence, Kundoo smote in the black dark.
When he could do no more, Sunua Manjl took
the pick and struck for his life and his wife,
and his village beyond the blue hills over the
Taraehunda River. An hofcr 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.”
For tlie fifth time Kundoo- took up the pick
as the Sontnal crawled back. The song had
scarcely recommenced when it was broken by
a yell from Kundoo that echoed down/ the gal
lery: "Par hua! Par hua! We ar6 through, we
arje 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 lias come—we shall be killed! Let us go
Kundoo crawled through the ~ap and found
himself in a propped gallery by the simple
process of hitting his head against a beam
"Do 1 know the pits or do I not?" chuckled
Janki. "This is the nfimber Five; go you out
slowly, giving me your names. Ho! Rahim,
count your gang! Npw let us go forward, each
catching' hold of the other as before."
They formed a line in the darkness, and Janki
led them—for a pitman in a strange pit is only
one degree less liable to err than an ordinary
mortal underground for the first time. At last
they saw a flare-lamp, and Gangs Janki. Mogul
and Rahim of Twenty-two stumbled dazed Into
the glare of the draught-furnace at the bottom
of Five; Janki feeling his way and the rest
behind.
"Water has come into Twenty-two. God
knows where are the others. I 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 Japk
Meah.
• • • * • • •
At the pit-bank of Twenty-two some thousam
people clamored and wept and shouted. Ont
hundred men—one thousand men—had beei
drowned in the cutting. They would all go tr
their homes to-morrow. Where were their men
Little Unda, her scarf drenched with the rain
stood at the pit-mouth calling down the shaf
for Kundoo. They had swung the cages clear o
the mouth, and her only answer was the mur
mur of the flood In the pit’s-eye two hundret
and sixty feet below.
"Look after that woman! She'll chuck her
self down the shaft in a minute,” shouted th.
manager.
But he need not have troubled; Unda wj:
afraid of death. She wanted Kundoo. Th«
assistant was watching the flood and seeing hou
far he could wade Into It. There was a lull li
the water, and the whirlpool had slackened. Th*
mine was full, and the people at the ptt*banl
howled.
"My faith, we shall be lucky if we have flvi
hundred hands in the place tp-morrow!" salt
the manager. "There’s some chance yet of run
ning a temporary dam across that water. Shevi
in anything—tubs and bullock-carts of yoi
haven’t enough bricks. Make them work now 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 witl
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 numps snored and guttered and shrieked
as the first water poured out of the pipe.
"We must run her all to-night.” said th«
manager wearily, "but there’s no hope for th(
poor devils down below. Look here, Gur Saha!
if you are proud of your engines, show me wha
they can do now."
Gur Bahai grinned and nodded, with hls rlgh*
hand upon the lever and an oil-can in his left
He could do no more than he was doing, but h«
could keep that up till the dawn. Were th<
company’s pumps to be beaten by the vagarie?
of that troublesome Taraehunda River? Never
never! And the pumps sobbed and panted
"Never, never!" The manager sat In the shelte
of the pitbank roofing, trying to dry himsei
by the pump-boiler fire, and, in the dreary dusk
he 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!"
But 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
gether. Presently, surrounded by a ciamorou
crew. Gangs Rahim, Mogul and Janki, and 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 Jank
Meah, "and now will the companv give m
pension?”
The simple pit-folk shouted and leaped am
went back to the dam. reassured in their oh
belief that, whatever happened, so great was th
power of the company whose salt they ^te, non
of them could be killed. But Gur Sghai onl;
bared his white teeth and kept his hand upoi
the lever and provecLhis pumps to the uttermost
• • • • • * *
"I say," said the assistant to the manager, ;
week later, "do you recollect ’Germinal 7 ?"
"Yes. Queer thing. I thought of it in th
cage 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
was.”
"Hillo! And those were the cattle that yoi
risked vour life to clear out of Twenty-two!”
•*No—I was thinking of the company's props
not the company’s men."
“Sounds better to say so now; but I don‘
believe you, old fellow."
WHEN A WOMAN WILLS
By Elliott Flower
I T was on the Canadian• acifl<* leaving Winni
peg that I met Katy of Calgary, although 1
did not then know her by that name, and it
was on the earn# train that I met Gray, of
Chicago.
I was fortunate enough to get a lower berth
—Lower I—and Katy was unfortunate enough
t© have to take an upper—Upper 6. Hhe w*» a
young woman of perhapa twenty or twenty-one
and pulchrttudlnally 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
were no lowera left Of course, she protested
that ehe would not think of inconveniencing
me, but 1 insisted upon th© exchange, and
well, 1 left her In full possession while l spent
an hour In the smoking room, where 1 met Gray
Gray—you must know Lawrence Gray before
1 can really get Into thle story- was a bright
energetic young fellow of about twenty-five oi
twenty-six.
He was a Chicago bond salesman on Ida first
special mission. After a somewhat lurid college
oaroor, for which a too liberal allowance from
a rtnh and Indulgent father was largely respon
aibla. he had settled down, had "made good
so far as he had gone, and finally had been en
trusted with thl* special mission He had some
bond propositions that the house had been on
couraged to think would "look good” In west
•rn Canada, and letters of introduction to vh
tdous men who might be helpful to hln>
Katy—I must also give some preliminary in
formation with regard to her. n> avoid Inter
rupting my narrative latet was known to m«
than as Mias Katherine Campbell. She claimed
Calgary as her home and was returning to it
after a visit with some friends in Toronto Her
father hsd been unfortunate enough to die
while engaged In some speculative enterprises
leaving his affairs in «mch chaotic condition
that the administrators of the estate were still
trying to And out w hether his widow and daugh
ter were rich or poor.
Gray met Katy through me. and thev became
great friends flhe learned that he was a bond
salesman but that conveyed nothing to he:
mind. She knew as little about bond* «» th*
street arab doe* about the Milky Way. but i
discovered that she wu fl"t *•» un*<iph’*ticale<i
in some other phases of businos* activity
"Bonds’" she repeated, after hearing them
mentioned severs! times. "What are bonds?"
Gray had just left us. and the question was
addressed to me. 1 answered It a* best ! ould
‘•The security for bonds may be real estate,
then*" she queried.
••Ye*." 1 replied.
"Well, why not own the real estate and take
all the profits?" she demanded
I trlea to explain again the theor> and pu’
pose of bonds, but *be was not Impressed
bhe laughed merrily. "And Mr. Gray 1* going
to Calgary to sell bonds?" she Inquired
"That’s what ha says." 1 responded
“Well, he has a lovely chance?’ she Chortled
"They’ll chuck hls bonds In the waste-basket
and sell him some real estate." she asserted
confidently.
1 told him what she said about bonds, hut
he was not disturbed.
"There’s always a lot of crazy real estate
speculation In growing towns." he aald. but
you'll find that the solid, conservative citizens
build their fortunes on a foundation of safe in
vestment. Only the light-headed are stampeded
by the get-rich-quick propositions Neither I
nor the men with whom l do business are in
that class."
T remembered this when Katy brought up
the subject again. She continued to find amuse
ment In Gray's mission, and made occasional
humorous reference* to it, although never in
hi? presence.
Lv| me ««e.” was her aggravating »;tll> on
on© of these occasions. "I’ll give him about
lorty-eight hours to forget the bonds and begin
buying real estate”
"i'll bet you" 1 began, ipdng the phrase
as a mere figure of speech and without serious
intent.
"What would you like to bet'" she inter
r-upted lightly.
Of course. 1 was not going to buck down, and
a few minutes later 1 discovered that 1 had bet
a five-pound box of candy, which 1 would nat
urally present to her if 1 won. that Gray, of
whom I knew less then than r have alr«ad>
disclosed In this narrative, would prove a bet
ter salesman than any Uankdiaft real estate
ow u«-r, agent or promoter.
Yen *ee I explained, when this was set
tied. "I have all the best of it. He is not golnv
io invest in anything in th© way of real prop
erty so far from home, and he haa a proposition
that appeals to cunservalive investors every
where because of Its safety.”
"What's safer than real egtata?’* she retorted
A bond is nothing but a piece of paper, hut
1 eal estate flax real value."
Fluctuating <ralu©." *T objected
Hut fluctuating upward—in a live lowin'
ehe retorted.
’ It 1ms been known to go the other way.” I
»rg tied
N*»t in a live town a growing town, she
declared “end you can fairly *e© Calgary grow
' ' town may be overboomed. ' 1 suggested
it its growing it will catch up with the
boom, she returned confidently "All you have
to do is to wait for your price" Her eyes be
K;in lo light up with enthusiasm now Ai
body can make money on real estate \>v hold
ing It, cmfl spmetlrtPes yqu hqve to hold it onlv
over night! '
1 on re extremely loyal.'* I commented.
1 saw little ,.f Kat> after that, although *. ■
found Opportunity for an occasional malicious
fling with regard to the refatlvi attractions
•*f bonds and real ©state Indeed. 1 was so oh
v ioufclv 'out of it.” except us she seemed to de
r ’ v * little pleasure from her efforts to
teas* me, that I let Gray take charge of her
hand baggage and deliver her to her waiting
mother when we reached Calgary in the early
morning of the second day.
Gray and 1 went to the same hotel, and we
had breakfast together. It was Sunday morning,
hut just acress the table from us two men were
neglecting, breakfast to engage in an earnest
'business discussion. The first was trying to
sell th© second a building lot, and the second
was trying to soil the first a farm. Each ex
patiated glowingly, and without much regard
to what the other waa laying, upon the merits
of hls own proposition! but they finally at
ranged the terms of a trade rather than do no
business at all.
1 nudged Gray
"They do seem to be a bit ‘cracked’ on real
estate." ha admitted, “but it's of no const*
quenee"
i In the afternoon Graj disappeared, but l had
plenty of amusement. A young man with whom
l fell into casual conversation tried to sell me
.in outlying lot. "If you have a bit of idle
money,'’ he assured me, "It’s a great chance."
1 refused to be interested, but I wondered
how this atmosphere would affect Gray.
He returned about supper time and remarked
• -usually, "She asked why 1 didn’t bring you
along."
’ Who asked"" 1 demanded
“Why. Miss Campbell, of course,'' he replied.
Oh!" 1 returned. "Well, why didn't you?”
' l didn't know you wanted to go." he ex
plained.
“\yell. 1 didn't!’ I asserted with unnecessary
emphasis. "1 don’t intend to buy any Calgary
real estate.”
Gray laughed, which further irritated me
"She’ll have you buying some, if you don't
wf&tch out. ' l warned.
"Oh. no." he returned carelessly. “On the
contrary, if she had any money I’d sell her
some bonds."
1 had bustness 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 I called on began talking
real estate as soon is we had transacted our
business. 1 retaliated by talking bonds, but he
was not Interested.
1 began to feel sorry for Gray.
However. 1 had discovered that bonds were
an excellent protection from local financial as
sault. and I promptly brought me subject up
again when a young man tried to interest me
in some property
“Bonds! ' he exclaimed scornfully "Bonds!
What do I want of bonds” Say! 1 bought an
option on a piece of property, gave my not©
for it. sold it, took up the note and had two
hundred dollar* clear -all in seven days. Just
show in© how you can make two hundred dol
lars out of nothing in bonds, will you?"
I was certainly sorrv for Gray, and ! mu>
■ cl oit that my w iger with Katy did not now
look quite as satt u.ml certain a thing a» U had
be foie.
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
th£ curb and beckoned to me. I confess to a
sudden and very distinct feeling of pleasure at
the sight of her.
"If you have a little money to invest"
she began, banteringly.
"I am not investing," I said.
"There’s a rare bargain I’d like to show you.
she persisted.
I got in and seated myself beside her.
“Do you know,” I said, as the old horse
ambled along, “for a moment 1 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," I declared.
“I’ve been dodging bargains all day, and I’m
particularly afraid of you."
"Why?” she inquired.
‘‘You’re such an enthusiast!”I explained.
"Of course," she agreed. "Why shouldn't 1
be? 1 can see the glorious future, and I want
other* 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!" I protested. "Don’t try to Joll>
me!”
"It’s quite true,” she asserted, still with the
mystifying snfile that teft 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 front 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
will"——
Then we both laughed: it was all so abso
lutely ridiculous
1 found Gray awaiting me when l got back
to the hotel, and he was not in good humor.
"No luck?" I 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
Calgary! The first man 1 s. vv wouldn't listen
to me after he learned that tnv securities were
not the bonds of anv concern having a local
plant or branch. The second seemed deeply
interested, and’after reading my letters anil
hearing what I had to say he became quite en
thusiastic and assured me 1 had a big chance
to do a great stroke of business. 'All you’ve
got to do.’ he said, is to market y our bonds in
the United States and invest the money up here.’
The third was a railroad official, and 1 had
to duck out in a hurry or he’d have sold in©
an irrigated farm The 'ourtk—but what's tin*
use?" he ended disgusted!'
Nevertheless, he seemed unable to get up sul
len t spunV tc
ceptlon of Katy
l\w» days later.
zee any on© else, with the ex-
I saw him driving with her
1 did not like it. li was non©
of my business, of course, but I did not like it.
A man standing near me in the hotel entrance
followed my gaze and nodded. "Smart ^irl.
that!" he remarked.
"Yes?” 1 returned.
"Smart as they make ’em,” he assured me.
"She can sell more real estate than any two
men."
’•She what!” I cried.
“Sell real estate,” he repeated in surprise.
“That’s her business, you know”
“Her business!" #
•Why, yes. What’s the matter with yop—
naturally dull-witted or what?”
“Nothing,” I replied; "nothing at all.” And
1 laughed. Poor 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 cleat-
off her father’s involved estate, 1 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
1 guess it’s her mother’s—that she's trying
to sell for about twice what It’s worth. She 11
do it, too."
I went to call on her that evening.
“You took an unfair advantage of me, 1
barged. *
“In what way?" she asked.
I didn’t know you were in the real estate
business yourself.”
“Oh, we’re 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 you shouldn’t,” I corrected.
“Whv not'” she demanded. "Is there any
reason’ why 1 shouldn't do Mr. Gray a favor if
I wish?"
"A favor!” 1 repeated.
A 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: "but you ought
not to complain. she added, "for 1 gave you
first chance at it."
“The price is exorbitant," I asserted.
No one is obliged to pay it." she retorted
"Nevertheless, I shall warn him," I threat
ened.
"Why. of course." she agreed. "That will
make it more interesting. Or you might buy it
yourself."
I have no use for it—at the price," I de
clared.
"Oh, well, if you Jiave no use for it.” she re
turned. "I'll not urgi it. Hut perhaps Mr. v Gra\
has," she added significantly. Then, with sud
den directness. “Why are you so concerned
about it?"
Why was I? It was no affair of mLie. and
yet T was making it almost a personal griev
ance.
".Does a box of candy mean so much to you?”
she banter.ed.
It was not that, of course, but—oh. well. I
finally retired in some confusion, and I was
sure T heard her laugh • xultingly as the door
closed behind me
1 told Gray she was merely a real estate
agent, but he was not disturbed.
"Just the same," I Insisted, "she’ll aell 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 biyrlnj
real estate!"
"It would be amusing," he agreed.
"Perhaps you’re thinking of buying that prop
erty up at the north end?’ 1 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 a I
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 sh« did!" I exclaimed. "Th
price is absurd.”
"She does hold it pretty high," he conceded
“hut it may be worth the price—to me."
1 was more disgruntled than ever—nottha.x
1 wanted the house myself, but I did not Ilk'
to feel that my confidence in him had bee:
misplaced. And why should It be worth th
price to him? What would make it worth mor>
to him than to me?
A few- days later he Informed me that he ha
about decided to buy the property. 7, 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?” 4
asked. "
“That north end property of mother’s?"
"Yes."
‘ It is," she said "Mr. Gray is"
“Not yet."
"He needs to be protected from hls ow;
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. It has occurred to rue tha
there’s a way I might use it.”
"Then why don’t you?” she asked
I suppose," T ventured, "It could be mad
irresistibly attractive.•*
"It might be," she admitted, “in some cir
cumstances.”
"Tell me how." I urged.
"HI show you," she replied; and a monies
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 wou'l
find It a bargain?’
Gray and Katy and I were together but On,
was not monopolizing Katy’s attention thi
time.
I broke the news to him rently. “Qrav "
said. "I've saved >ru."
' Saved me!" he repeated.
■Saved you from your own folly." I explainer
l- ve bought the house myself. You see I h?
to do it to win a bet." '
A het:" he pondered "What was the bet"
A box of candy.” I informed hjm
A box of candy'" he echoed You hoi.»a
the house at the price to win a"—- “ * h
"<1H. the price doesn't matter," I internin'..,
■when it's all in the family". U *“ rrUp, * <
"Ob'." be commented; "thats it, is if''’
I nodded and Kwtv Mushed "Well In, i,
SOU to the wedding." I promised ni1 '