Victims Three

Victims Three BY D. W. CUMMINGS The second-hand store was ugly, as second stores always have been. The building of which it was a paft was a huge brick box, uniquely hideous. Across the front, hung on pegs or wires, were a bear skin, a pair of socks, a mandolin, tools, hunting bags, boots, in fact, every sort of thing, strung in unlovely disarray. Through the yawning door, I caught glimpses of tables covered with, bedding, harness, books or shoes, with the shadowy outline of gaunt, old-fashioned furniture in the rear. I entered and fingered the books on a table. But for once they failed to attract me. Dark crannies, scores of them, caught my attention with a strange lure. I found no volume that interested me, and yet I lingered. There seemed to have come to me out of the cool, heavy gloom, a promise of curious adventure. Presently the door darkened. I glanced up. Aragged, shifty-eyed man had entered. He approached Jepson, the grizzled proprietor, who sat behind the counter, and began mumbling. A sharp, impatient bark from Jepson clarified his speech enough that I caught his message. He wished to borrow a wrench for a lady whose baby carriage had broken down just around the corner. Jepson wavered a moment. Then, with a reluctant kindness, he picked up a wrench and tendered it. The man took it with an uncertain grasp, but with a strange elation. Jepson eyed him suspiciously, but did not recall the wrench, and the man slouched out of the doorway and was gone. — "I shall see it aeain maybe," I heard Jepson growl. And T resumed my absent fingering of the books. Only a few moments later another man entered. He was slim, threadbare, with a cold eve, and a face set hard in a frown. He planted himself insolently in front of Jepson, with a kind of shamed desperation. "I want some 'relievers,' " he said surlily. Jepson nonchalantly came from behind the counter and appioached a table of shoes. "What size?" he asked brief! v. "Sevens." As he answered, the man sat down on a box. He surprised trie bv undoing his shoes, which were in excellent condition, and

: :: 1000 IMPROVEMENT ERA taking tlicm off. When he had done so, Jepson handed him a pair of rather shabby ones. "Them — and a dollar, huh?" said Jepson. "Yep," replied the man. With that he handed over his good shoes, took a dollar from Jcpson's hand, and without a word departed. That was a new stress of life to me. What desperate urge could make a man fairly sell the shoes from his feet? Again there seized me a foreboding of queer events. The door darkened a third time. This man, though, entered nervously, as if about to do a strange thing and fearful of how it would be received. But destitution drove him forward, as it had done the others. Holding his hand behind him, he approached Jepson. "What'll yuh gimme fer this?" And then, with a jerk, he proffered the thing he had held behind him. I caught my breath in amazement. Dangling from a strap in his hand was a half-length, wooden leg! I turned and looked at Jepson. The act seemed to transcend even his experience. Finally, with a queer smile, he answered "One dollar !" I knew by his tone that he was buying a curio rather than an article for re-selling. The man handed him the dented, chipped limb, snatched the proffered coin, and hastily sped away. We were both astounded. I asked Jepson where he thought the man had secured the artificial limb. Jepson did not know. From some dead friend, he guessed. A queer thing to profit by, I remarked dubiously. Yes, but the people he dealt with did queer things. Thus we talked, rather at intervals than steadily, for perhaps ten minutes. Then a series of strange sounds from the sidewalkcaught our attention. We both strode to the door and looked out. I marvel now at the ludicrousness of what we saw. Two shabby men, bleary-eyed and unsteady, supported between them a third, whose leg had been amputated at the knee ! The cripple matched their dissolute appearance. He came grumblingly forward, like one who knows that at his destination there will be cause for anger. At sight of Jepson, he stopped and snarled "What did that feller git for my leg?" "One dollar." The reply evidently disconcerted him. He exchanged glances with his two aids. "That's what he said, ain't it?" The two nodded. The man hesitated, glaring at Jepson. Then a sudden thought struck him "Back we go!" he cried, wheeling around, "Tt'U all be gone in a minute! Come on!"

! ! VICTIMS THREE 1001 Still staggering, his two assistants took fresh holds and started him jerkily down the street. Their twisting, wobbly pace - -it was horribly grotesque I glanced at Jepson. He was looking shrewdly at me. "You note my wrench has not returned. Let us go find it. We may see other interesting things." I followed, deeply intrigued. He walked swiftly down the biock, turned the corner and made directly for a saloon a few doors down. I was close upon his heels. He swung open the cloor, strode in, and swept the foul-smelling place with his eye. "I knew it !" he exclaimed. I looked over his shoulder. At the bar stood the man of the relievers, his face flushed to a burning red. Off in a corner, slinking behind a cask in a wreched attempt to hide, huddled the miserable wrench-borrower. At a table in the center, slouched forward between his two human crutches, and glowering brutishly at a flask of whiskey held tight in his two hands, sat the late owner of the wooden leg Mother's Eyes Back 'long the vista of life's varied past 'Mong the fond mem'ries that linger and last, Treasured and dear of the things that I prize, Shines the beautiful love-light of dear Mother's eyes. Love-light and truth-light, O Mother, so wise, Let me ever abide in the light of your eyes! In infancy, childhood, youth, manhood all through The course of my life that light has held true, A haven of refuge, a pure beacon light, Strengthening 'gainst evil, guiding aright. O Father in heav'n, if Thou'lt grant what I prize, Keep me true in the light of dear Mother's eyes. Though closed once in death, I know that in love, Still earnestly mindful, they watch from above. Sweet, angelic guardians, serene may you be In fervent approval, forever, of me. O love-light, O truth-light, in angelic guise, Shine always upon me from dear Mother's eyes! T. C. Hoyt. OGDEN, UTAH.