--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Hoggan, Leila Marler collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 14 number: 11 published: 1911-09 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Hoggan, Leila Marler, "From Range to Rostrum. II. A Story," *Improvement Era* 14, no. 11 (September 1911): 990–997.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera14011unse transcription: Transcribed from the Internet Archive scan of each issue (the item for each issue is named in the issue's own source); unnumbered advertising leaves are omitted, printed page numbers are kept as page markers. identifier: improvementera14011unse start_page: 990 end_page: 997 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1911-09) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera14011unse publication_year: 1911 note: The Internet Archive item metadata carries a blanket "© Copyright by Intellectual Reserve, Inc." notice. The library owner judged it inapplicable because this issue was published in 1911, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # From Range to Rostrum. II. A Story From Range to Rostrum. BY LELLA MARLER HOGGAN. V.— Cleaning up the "Joint." For several weeks Phil had spent an occasional evening away from his room. More than once Walter had questioned him concerning his whereabouts, but he had always jokingly evaded the question. Finally, however, he began to absent himself more frequently and Walter insisted on knowing where he spent hia evenings. Driven to the wall he was forced to reply. "Well, Walt," he growled desperately, "we've got a joint down town all to ourselves. But things ain't panned out like we calculated, and we're goin' to have a cleanin' up right away now. You needn't say anything about it, though, 'cause you know a feller likes to hand in his own report." Walter had confidence in Phil, and so he let the matter drop. And the "cleanin' up" that Phil spoke of came sooner than he himself had expected, for the dive lost its identity that very night, and newer, better things came to take its place. There was a vacant store room down town at the back of one of the hotels, and here several boys had collected for a social game of cards now and then. There was not a gymnasium or reading room in town, and when some of the country boys had become tired of the sight of books, out of sheer desperation they had provided this pastime for themselves. But graver evils had followed in the wake of the cards— sometimes they played for money, and sometimes there was whisky or tobacco, or both, and always there was profanity. There had been no corrupt stories, for the obvious reason that Phil Sherwood and some other fellows FROM RANGE TO ROSTRUM. 991 like him would not "stand fer it." Only once had any one attempted to tell a vile joke in which a woman's honor was impli- cated. That one was Henry Owens, and Phil had hushed him hurriedly with, "Look here, Hen Owens, I know this ain't no prayer-meetin', but you can cut that talk short right here. We don't care about aiy such rot. My mother's a woman, I'd like to have you know." "Yes, and you don't need to think you're the only man that's got a mother, either," put in one of the boys. And Owens' ill- temper for the rest of the evening served as a jest for the crowd. As the social game of cards developed into something worse, more than once the boys had promised themselves that they would find some better place of amusement. Still they continued to come. On that last night Phil was late, and when he came in he could tell that some of the boys had been drinking. In fact, Owens was so intoxicated as not to be responsible for all he said. More than once he attempted to tell some vile story, but was hushed up. Finally he drew a bottle from his pocket, and pro- posed a toast. His thick lips could scarcely pronounce the words. As soon as he made it clear to the boys that the person he meant to toast was Lottie Carey, Phil stopped him short. "Not another word, Hen Owens!" "And what's — what's she to— to— you?" he drawled, with an oath. But he raised his glass and began his toast again. Phil was on his feet in an instant, and his hand was at Owens' throat. "She's a woman, and a lady; and though I'm only an ignor- ant cow-puncher, I want to tell you I'm man enough to choke the life out of a cur like you, if you take her name on your foul lips!" The boys managed to settle the affair quietly, but they all knew in their hearts that the dive was another dead measure, and that Phil had dealt the death blow. Owens persisted in trying to explain in his drunken way that he had a right to drink a toast to the lady in question, inasmuch as he had been her avowed escort all fall. But Phil was in no mood for his drunken explanations. "Shut up, Hen Owens," he said savagely, "or I'll choke you yet! No man has the right to speak the name of a decent woman 992 IMPROVEMENT ERA. when his lips are thick with whisky. Besides, 'tain't an hour since a vile jest was in your mouth. Now attempt to mention a decent woman, if you dare, and it'll mean slow tunes and flowers fer you, let me promise you!" That was on Friday night. Phil was appointed speaker. Accordingly, on Monday, with many misgivings in his own heart and many encouraging words from the boys, he prepared to "tread the carpet;" for the faculty would have to know. He had reported to the principal, but that dignitary thought it would be better for him to tell his story himself. That was an evening never to be forgotten by Phil. He did not mince matters in the least. In his blunt, original, cow-boy manner he told the whole story, assum- ing the major part of the blame. There was only one part he withheld, and that was Owens' ccnnection with the affair, "If it hadn't been fer a stray cur askin' himself in, we wouldn't 'a' had no booze," he said. But neither President Hughes nor all the faculty could persuade him to divulge the name of that "stray cur." "No," said Phil pleasantly, "he ain't got our brand on, and he don't bunch with us, and 'tain't no busi- ness o' mine what he does." VI.- — Discussing the Incident. At the close of the interview Phil walked home silently, and sat grimly gazing into the fire, waiting for Walter to come so he could tell him all about it. He knew that he had betrayed Walt's confidence, in a way, and he wanted to offer his apology. "Well, boy, what's gone wrong this time?" questioned Walter, coming in on him rather suddenly. "Nothin'," replied Phil. "We've fixed it all up now. Only I'd like to tell you about it. I'm sorry about that dive, Walt. Dad'll be sorry, too. 'Cause I ought to 'a' told you right at first. But dad or the teachers or none of 'em won't blame you, Walt. I've told 'em you didn't know nothin' about it." "Then you've reported to the faculty, have you?" "Yes," drawled Phil. "But they knew all about it long ago. They've been layin' for us; and if we hadn't 'a' cleaned the thing out, they would of. We didn't know it, though." FROM RANGE TO ROSTRUM. 993 "Go after you pretty hard, did they?" questioned Walter, drawing a chair up to the fire alongside of Phil's. "No; not any harder'n we deserved, I guess. You know it's pretty hard on a bunch of fellers like us, that's been used to runnin' loose all the year round, to be hitched up as soon as we're roped, and to have to step around in a trottin' -harness all day. By the time school's out, I tell ycu, we're ready to make fer the pasture. But there didn't seem to be no pasture here, not even a grazin'-field; so we felt obliged to make one. Us fellers have tried to live up to them rules. Most of us have cut out the drinkin' and smokin' and saloons, and such things. 'Course, the swearin' that's different. A feller can't learn a new language in six weeks. We didn't intend to make a bad place of it when we started out, but we had to go some place to gtt a breathin' spell from the books and lectures and things, and that was the first place we struck, so we flung the pasteboards and stacked the chips. I told the teach- ers all about it, and they seemed to understand just how we felt. In fact, they've been gefctin' a place fixed up fer the boys where they can go and have games and sports and such things. I felt like a whipped cur when President Hughes told me that. But I've give him my word of honor that us fellers' 11 cut out the cards and drinkin' and smokin' and I know the boys'll stay by m^in it. We made a kind of a rule, too, amongst ourselves to cut out the swearin,' but I didn't tell him about that." ' 'Well, Phil, I'm proud of you tonight. Your mother will be the happiest woman in the state when she sees you next spring. And now, in return for all this good news you've been telling me, I have a piece of sad news to tell you. Henry Owens has com- mitted more than one serious offense against the school, and he refuses to let the school dictate to him in the matter. So he will have to take the consequences. He is a member of our class, and President Hughes told me tonight that tomorrow morning he will be suspended from school." "I reckon he knew who the 'stray cur' was all the time!" ejaculated Phil, when Walter had finished. "The stray cur?" questioned Walt. "Yes; Owens is the feller that brought the whisky into our 'joint.' But we talked it over and decided not to give him away. 994 IMPROVEMENT ERA. So we just told the teachers it was a stray cur. President Hughes seemed to be quite anxious about his name, but I guess he knew all right, all the time." "Yes," laughed Walter, "I think he knows that Owens is the 'stray cur,' all right." "Well, Walt, Owens is no good at all. There's a man that ought to beg his own pardon every night and morning fer keep in' company with himself. It must make a feller feel like the devil to be in bad company all the time." VIL— "Mother Will be Glad." Phil had given his word of honor that he would live up to the rules of the school. And that meant everything to Phil. Never once did he waver in his purpose. Sometimes temptation crowded upon him, but with set jaw and clenched fists the big fellow kept to his purpose. He had registered his word with God to make a man of himself, and he forged ahead fearlessly, knowing that divine help is forever at hand when a man struggling for righteousness falls short. Walter gave his assistance, not only to Phil but to the entire group of boys who were struggling to overcome their crude manner of expression. Through the long weeks Phil studied and worked and prayed and grew in strength of character. After a long meditation before the fire he would often break the silence with, "Its a funny thing, ain't it, Walt, how God took the responsi- bility of makin' a man of me. It's no trouble at all to do the right thing, if you just have the right kind of backin', is it?" And he usually concluded in a low tone, "Mother'll be ever so glad!" VIL — Chosen President of the Student Body. At holiday time the president of the student body was com- pelled to discontinue school. This necessitated a re-election of officers which took place during the first week of the second semester. The students were bubbling over with patriotism and their enthusiastic campaigning would have ended in a riot had not President Hughes and several of the teachers come to the rescue. FROM RANGE TO ROSTRUM. 995 The country students with one voice had nominated Philip Sher- wood for the office of president. Phil was at once flattered and surprised, but he flatly refused to run. However, the students would name no substitute, and in spite of his objections his name, headed the list of nominees. The school was divided into factions and the interest ran high. Class mottoes and banners were in evidence in the balloting room, and the air reverberated with school yells, class yells, and faction yells composed off-hand for the occa- sion. And the campaigning was kept up all afternoon as lustily as it might have been for a presidential election. At last it was all over, and the judges of the election came in and declared the result of their count; and to the surprise of the faculty and the advanced students, and to the complete embarrassment of Philip Sherwood, he was declared president of the student body. "I can't do it, Walt!" he confessed bluntly, when they were alone in their room. "I don't have any idea what ought to be done." But Walter pledged himself to stand by Phil and help him to fill the office creditably, and he kept his word. IX.— A Timely Rescue. That evening as Phil was following a path through some vacant lots, to cut off a quarter of a mile walk on his way home from an out-of-town social, he was startled by a woman's scream, and turning about quickly, was completely overwhelmed when Lottie Carey almost threw herself into his arms, sobbing with fear. "Oh, Mr. Sherwood, you will protect me, won't you? Don't let him touch me, please, please don't!" And before Phil had time to ask any questions Henry Owens came up panting and cursing in thick, drunken accents. Phil did not wait for any explanations. His big fist shot out quickly and in another moment Owens was wallowing in the snow, trying in vain to regain his footing. He began cursing again when he recognized Phil, and for a moment, forgetting Lottie's presence, he fell into his old manner of speech. "Law, Hen, you're too foul to make good coyote bait! A 996 IMPROVEMENT ERA. respectable prairie dog' 'lid' leave' you any time to feed off'm a dead horse." Owens demanded the lady, declaring over and over that he would protect her. "Yes, like a wolf'd protect a pet lamb!" glared Phil, drawing Lottie's arm through his tenderly. You'd better get back to bed, Owens, as soon as you can make your way home, or you'll be in worse trouble than you are now. I've often wondered why God let's such fellers as you run loose. Of course, we have mosquitos and skunks in the world, and maybe everything is put here for some purpose, even stray curs like yourself. But what that pur- pose is God knows, I'm sure I don't!" X. — Phil's Dream of Life Come True. Turning abruptly about, he and Lottie Carey walked quickly and silently on until they reached Lottie's own door. "Mr. Sherwood," she said tremulously, "how can I ever thank you enough for your kindness?" "Oh, that's nothing, Miss Carey, don't speak of it," he replied gallantly. His big, strong hand was trembling more than the little white hand she had held out to him. But he was afraid of his own heart rather than the drunken man. Lottie explained to him how Owens had followed her from an officers' meeting, and how he had attempted to kiss her. "The dog!" said Phil. "I wish I had given him more blows." The two stood silent in the cold, moonlight night. Presently Lottie said, "I have heard how gallantly you protected me from that man's slurs once before, Mr. Sherwood, and I want to thank you for it. I am sure I did not deserve it, after what I had said about your being a cow-boy." Phil did not know what to say, so he kept silent. And Lottie continued, "I did not mean to hurt your feelings, Mr. Sherwood, but my class had twitted me about you until I did it in sheer desper- ation, just to show them that I dared." FROM RANGE TO ROSTRUM. 997 A strange wonder was born in Phil's heart, and he voiced it half to himself and half to her. "Twitted you about me? And why?" Lottie avoided his earnest gaze. Her eyes fell, and a crimson flush overspread her face. "I had said kind things about you," she said simply. Phil's big hand impulsively clasped the little, white one again. He compelled her to look into his earnest face. "Then you do not hate me," he asserted half defiantly. "How could any one hate you?" was all Lottie could find to say. Then the stars rocked before Phil's gaze, and he felt as frightened as a prisoner at the bar. Was it really possible that this beautiful little woman cared for a big, ignorant fellow like him? He tried to voice the song in his heart, but the words caught in his throat. There was nothing he could say, so he stooped and kissed the little woman. She did not scream or run away, or even chide him. And he knew that the best dream of his life had come true. "I have no words to tell you what is in my heart," he said, "but you understand, don't you?" "Yes, I understand. And I am very, very happy." Her voice sank to a whisper. "Someday," said Phil, "when I have finished my school work, when I have made a man of myself, I'll be able to say the words." "And until then we shall keep our sweet secret all to our- selves," she said. "But you must never forget that I am always waiting and hoping and praying for you." "If you do that I cannot fail!" he whispered sincerely. And then he felt two little hands clasping his own. For one moment he felt her warm breath on his cheek. "Good night and God bless you!" was all she said, and then she was gone, and Phil stood alone in the moonlight, wondering if fate really meant it. (the end.) Lewisville, Idaho.