THE TJM 'THAT SAVED HIS LIES
By Geor^o T.. Masury.
Supper had been over for about an hour, the 1C. a had:f inished ..
their work in the kitchen, the pinochle game was going full blast in on
ner of the pool roon, while in the other corner the run -®n9 1*°'18 ,
forth as usual. Up stairs in the barracks the gang had collected around
Pedro’s bunk, but the usual badinage and playful banter was lacking, prob y
due to the steady downpour of rain which drum9 i in a dismal monotone^ 0
tin roof above. Pedro-, reaching into his pocket for a cigaret e,
peek are empty and went to his foot looker, opened it, and ^ ar e ■ 0 ^ .
a fresh package when "Deacon'1 Dunbar spoke from his seat on a nei.3h oring
locker and asked Pedro where he got the revolver that was reposing in e P
of his tray. Pedro took the gun into his hands and,looking ao it thoughtfully,
sai4:"7ellows, that gun once saved ny life and I think a rdiole lot of it.
•.Yith these words he started to replace ib in the tray when Insn Rodgersnn,
.... « n __1. rrr nnfiked an 1B
’vho had been renosing Sheba-like on Pedro’s bunk, rolled
quiring eye at Pedro and a3ked hin *to bell then bhe 3uor
ov 3r, cocked an i»
rv of the gun and hw
ib came to save his life# , T i w
"’Jell” said Pedro. “I’ll tell you x,h« s'oorv, bu*C wait till 1 iobk
this locker up; I’ve got three nore packages of tailor-mades and i iriS
has spotted than already. Clinb off that bunk, too, while you re at it.
know the old amy saying — one nan, one bunk. °it on olio locker, i s oc 6
Thanks 1 '/ell, to tell you fellows the story-of that gun.' It was just such a
hisht as this eight years ago. I was a ’c-ivie* in Frisco, and' uimes was har
on the outside, the enploynent offices on Howard Street iron 3rd to 5th were
crowded with fellows looking for work frou the tine they opened in the morn
ing ’till they closed at night; end there was ho work. Frisco was full of un
employed and they was desperate for money and food, ‘this night the rain was
failing like it is tonight, tha pavements was wet and slick, reflecting the
street lights coldly. I was wet to the skin, broke and hadn t had anything
to eat for three days. I had 'chat gun in my pocket. I was coming along East
Street (they call it Embarkedero, now) and it ’vas dark and quiet, not a soul
could be seen on the street. I was walking along close to the buildings;
the hallways and alleys were as black as doon, my shoes was wet and made a
queer swooshing noi3e as I walked along* I was just approaching uhe Ferry
Building near liarket Street. I started to turn the corner when a light flash
ed in my eyes -— I glanced at it startled - I reached into my pocket,
grabbed my gun and jerked it out swiftly and plunged straight go war d the light
---I Tvas desperate-— I----sav, have any of you fellows got a m^tchj Hy cigar
ette’s out.” match
M Here's a/-.**, Pedro," spoke "Ted" Grant, throwing over a box of
safety matches, which Peiro caught, struck one, lit his cigarette and puffed
contentedly afaile watching the snoke curl toward the ceiling.
"Jell," said Irish. "You pulled your gun and jumped toward the ligfct.
Jhat happened!"
"■^t was the light of an ail night hock shop,"
pawned that gun for two dollars and got a s juare neal.
saved ny life or I’ d have starved to deach."
continued ^edro. "I
Ye3, that gun sure
"Huh," grunted Irish.
"Don*t forget to return my matches," said Ted.
"Beats me," said Deacon.
And the gang broke up.
AT CHIIKOOT:
Soldier: I ’vant a rou:i
Mr# Barnett: Mfhere tot
Soldier: Back here, o-f
i trip 'cicket.
course.