--- title: Improvement Era description: Monthly periodical of the Mormon church, 1897 onward. This library holds the issues of November 1897 to December 1930. authors: - Martineau, Joel H. collections: - periodicals tags: - magazine - improvement-era periodical: Improvement Era volume: 22 number: 9 published: 1919-07 publisher: Young Men’s Mutual Improvement Associations publisher_place: Salt Lake City language: en type: magazine reference: 'Martineau, Joel H., "La Sierra Madre," *Improvement Era* 22, no. 9 (July 1919): 804.' source: url: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2209unse 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: improvementera2209unse start_page: 804 end_page: 804 rights: status: public-domain basis: US publication 1930 or earlier (published 1919-07) source: https://archive.org/details/improvementera2209unse publication_year: 1919 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 1919, before 1931; a scan-level notice does not restore copyright. --- # La Sierra Madre fcv,„ IMPROVEMENT ERA were riotous doings at a modest house of call much favored by Horatio and fellow professionals. In the cold chill light of Friday morning Mr. Hardcastle, a trifle putty-colored about the gills, renewed his promises to the landlord, filled a tin box, which, properly speaking, should have held his worldly goods and chatties, with a couple of bricks and some tiles wrenched from a projecting angle of roof, carefully wrapped in brown paper, pocketed the implements of his trade, locked the attic door and sauntered downstairs ostentatiously whistling. The landlord, a disagreeable person of a skeptical turn of mind, deftly collared him on the doorstep. — " 'Ere, 'old on, Hardy none o' yor games, my boy. Drop that there box, an' I'll take care of it till you come 'ome again, with the rent in yer pocket. Mr. Hardcastle gingerly sat down the box in the passage. "I'm a man o' my word, I am," he retorted, with dignity. "When I say I'll pay, I means it. Wot's wrong with the box?" The landlord smiled wearily. "I don't like to see a man like you burdening yesself with it on a summer's day. Seems mighty — precious by the way you handle it heavy, too. You leave it here, and I'll watch it whiles you step over and have a glass of beer." "I won't!" declared Mr. Hardcastle, with energy, grabbing at the box. "I tell yer flat, I won't, and if yer want to know why —I don't trust yer, I owe the money, and I'll pay it, but leave " that there box "If yer don't you'll have to stop and keep it company, Hardy," cut in the landlord, dryly, and he eyed the box slantwise. In the face of Mr. Hardcastle's refusal, it had suddenly grown to be a desirable asset. "Hoh! that's the tune, is it?" retorted Mr. Hardcastle. He was full of pluck, but he stood a bare five feet four against the landlord's six foot. He hesitated. "Well, look 'ere, said he at last, "I'll leave it with yer, that's what I'll do. It's got a strong lock, and I've put my own private seal on it. See there?" pointing to an untidy dab of sealing wax. "If you go messing round I shall know, and then I'll lag for yer. Now leave me alone while I cure my parchin' throat, as you suggested. Though, mind," he added, "I don't exactly like it." "Maybe we might trade," said the landlord. "There might be some odds and ends as I'd take a fancy to; and for a fractional moment his left eyelid drooped. — "Maybe maybe not," retorted Mr. Hardcastle, gruffly. "No 'anky-panky, though," and he stepped over the threshold.