Evening Republican, Volume 16, Number 106, Rensselaer, Jasper County, 2 May 1912 — Grandad’s Little Fling [ARTICLE]

Grandad’s Little Fling

By ANNE H. WOODRUFF

(Oopjrright, IMS, bj Awortatwd literary Press.)

“Give it up, grandad, do. An old mateof 70 to take a carload of cattle to Chicago! It’s the craziest notion I ever knew you to take into your head.” “Crazy!” ejaculated grandad Indignantly. “That’s not'sihe way to talk to (me, son.” - _ “Well, do be reasonable and let Dan go as usual.” "Now, boy, I’m just dying to have a little fling. I’m going to Chicago, and I don’t want no g’ardeen, neither. It’s nay last chance—at my time of life. Now or never, sonny," and grandad chuckled joyously as his six-foot grandson ' turned away with an impatient gesture betokening anxiety rather than anger. Grandad was a fine specimen of wholesome and vigorous age. Why, then, should he not go to -Chicago without a guardian? "Be a good little boy and take care of the ranch,” was his parting salute -from the car-window, accompanied by a radiant grin. “Take care of yourself,” Jack shouted, adding to himself as the train moved out, “you old infant!” Grandad enjoyed every moment of his Journey from western lowa to the great mid-western metropolis. So. when his carload of cattle was duly disposed of, and a thick wad of bank bids in his possession, he started out to take in the sights. As he was leavtag the stock yards he met two men, whom from their appearance he judged to be farmers. “Bless me! Ain’t it lucky we met? You from Indiana and me from lowa —the two finest states in the Union. I might have got lonesome, but now we can have a roarin’# good time,” he cried. So the three started out to see Chicago. Their car had gone about a block when it Btopped to take on a lady passenger. Sibella Graham —society reporter for one of the city's great dailies — had awakened that morning in her room at the Transit house, where she was the guest for the night of a former classmate —in the same disheartened frame of mind with which she had retired the evening previous. The curt, incisive words of her city editor were still ringing in he rears:, “Unless there is a marked Improvement in your work, Miss Graham, the T will be obliged to dispense with your services.” The blow was none the less disheartening because she had expected it The trouble was that she simply could not browbeat her brain any longer into taking ehough interest in the details connected with her department to satisfy the patrons of the paper, who delighted in seeing their importance magnified in print.” “Jack was right when he said that all Cbicago'had to offer could not compare with the freedom of western ranch life,” she soliloquized. “To think of my having had the nerve to try to compel him to give it all up for an unfamiliar and uncongenial existence here, because, forsooth, I preferred Chicago as a place of residence! How well I remember his sensible and manly answer: “ ‘I cannot leave Oakland*, Sibelia. I owe all I am, ever will be, to my grandfather, who is the dearest old boy in the world. It would break his heart to have me leave him. I must stick to the ranch. It does seem to me, dearest, that you might be happy there. It really is something of a place, if I do say it’ "Well, I have had my way—l am a newspaper woman, and I have my Chicago (Bless it!), and some other girl better worth having will marry—or has married, who knows—the only man I ever cared for. I ought to be satisfied, but I am not it long for a whiff of air from that self-same despised ranch, and a chance to rest my poor, overworked. Idealess brain.. It feels as empty of gray matter as my hat I declare, I would prefer to churn, make butter, or even milk the cows this morning, to doing my usual stunt” When Miss Graham boarded the car, she found every seat occupied. Suddenly she became conscious of someone tugging at her skirt Turning, she looked into the eyes of an ■old man with a bright and jovial countenance, who indicated, by a motion, the seat be had vacated. The old man was chatting genially with his companions. “You’re all right as long as you’re with me, boya My boy, out in lowa, told me to look out for them bunco chaps, but pshaw! they can’t sail me no Masonic Temple,” with a knowing chuckle. Miss Graham’s worst fears were realised. She received her dismissal that afternoon, along with a check for past services. "And now what am I to do?” she asked herself as she left the Polk street depot, where she had been seeing some friends off on the train. Pondering this question, she walked on and on, oblivious to her surroundings. She was aroused, however. in a very sadden and startling manner. A man—propelled by some invisible force —fell at her feet, blocking hei passage, while the sound of the barring and bolting of a door fed upon her ear. The man -lay motionless, his white hair stained with blood, his eyes dosed in atupor. To her horror, toe recognized In him the old man toe ted noticed in the ear. fafa-fov . '* * 'S -i v

Grandad and his companions had spent the morning together, and had lunched at a restaurant more in keeping with the outward appearance of his friends than was entirety agreeable to him. When they started out, he was gently but firmly propelled toward a locality which the two men had kept in view all along, where men of their ilk consort to the accomplishing of their nefarious designs. Granddad objected strenuously at last, declaring that he was going back to have a look at the banks and office buildings. “All right, Gov*ner,” said the older man soothingly, “we’ll go with you. Why, if here ain’t Jake Hopkins! When did you come to town, Jake?" “Got in this mornin’,” answered the rough-looking individual who was standing in the doorway of a narrow building between a Chinese Junk shop and a corner saloon. “I wish ,you could let me have that |5 you owe me, Jake,” said the younger man. “I’m short" “Come inside for a minute, then," replied Jake, "till I get a bill changed."* 1 [ > . Grandad followed like a lamb to the slaughter—lnto what looked like a poorly furnished office, where a hooknosed, hawk-eyed man sat at a desk. “No,” he said, to their request for change. “Short of change myself today.” “Can you change' a ten?" the young man asked of grandad, who obligingly hauled out his wad. In a second’s time the four were upon him and had. secured the money. They relieved him of his business papers, return ticket — everything. Then they thrust him through the doorway with auch violence tW he fell to the sidewalk, striking his head upon the pavement and almost upsetting Sibella. A crowd began to colleict; the patrol wagon drew up at the curb. The policemen searched his pockets In vain for a clue to identification. "He has been robbed,” declared Miss Graham. “What do you know aboift this case, young woman?” the policeman asked. Sibelia told him all she knew, and he said: “The man must be taken to the hospital at once. He needs medical attention.” "I will be responsible for all charges,” said Miss Graham, peremptorily. She spoke upon an Impulse. "A slight concussion of the brain,” was the verdict of the examining physician. When Sibella called, on the following day, to Inquire concerning her protege, he was conscious,.and she was allowed to see him. The nurse had explained to him the circumstances of his situation, and he was prepared to receive her. “So this is my good friend,” he said. taking her hand In his, and beaming upon her from the pillow, adding whimsically to the nurse: “She ain’t bigger than a pint of cider, but she has a heart bigger than all outdoors. Where have I seen you before?” “You gave me your seat in the car,” Sibelia reminded him. r “Yes, I know,” he said, “but it’s further back than that. Well, my boy will know how to thank you when he comes, better than I can.” “Do you expect your son?" she asked. "My grandson," he gently corrected her. “Sure, he’ll conie, when he knows. The doctor sent a telegram. He said I was crazy to come here, and —I s’pose—he—was about right Them bunco men buncoed me all right There’s no fool iike an old foot But, by ginger! I’m goln’ to ha- e a try at flndin’ them tellers —Oh, pshaw! and here I be on the fiat of my back!” “Them fellers” were troubling Slbella’s thoughts as she walked - from the hospital to Clark street. It seemed In no wise strange, therefore, that she should come face to face with them on the corner, as they were about to miter a saloon. They did not notice her, and hastily entering the nearest drug store,, she rang up the police station, waiting In a fever of impatience until the patrol appeared and the arrests were made. “Nabbed the whole bunch," one of the policemen Informed her gleefully —“and the money, too." “Then the old man will get his money hack?" asked Sibella. - The policeman’s “Sure!” made her very happy, and she could scarcely wait until the next afternoon to pay her charge another visit When she did call the next day the nurse left them alone for s few moments, and suddenly, without warning, a big, bronzed young fellow opened the door, and walked quietly to the bedside. “Well, grandad,” he said, “had about enough of Chicago T’ Grandad’s eyes opened wide. “Yon bet” he answered with a sheepish, but deligbtec. grin, “The ranch U good enough for me. I’ll not leave it again until I*m carried off. And you may thank this little girl here that I’m as comfortable as I be.” The young westerner wheeled about and they were face to face. “ffibella!. Jj _ _jt “Jack!” Both her hands were In his, and granddad entirely forgotten, when he recalled them to * sense of their whereabouts by crying excitedly: *1 tineas you needn’t begrudge yen* old grandaddy his Httle fling.’-