The Rights of a Man

The Rights of a Man y By Joe Hic :man

"Talking about what man's rights are," said young Will Fullon, as we stood in front of the old store waiting for the stage from Nimbo, "I always hold that a man has a right to do anything that does not harm another. Now, these I. W. W.'s have no right to do most of the things they want to do, because they would injure other people." "That's reasonable," assented a traveling man in the group. "When the nation was 'wet' I used to take a little drink now and then, but I voted 'dry' when they put the question up to our state, because I could see that the question of drink was a ques- tion of the harm it did the man's family when he went on a tear." "That's just the point," continued Will. "Now they come to the question of a man's smoke. I think that they are just going a few steps too far. They ought to stop to consider that if I want to smoke, that's my business. If it does harm to any one, it's me — nobody else. They can make their laws about where I can, and where I can't smoke. But if I want to smoke in private that's my business, I say, because it doesn't harm anyone but Will Fullon." Just before Will had begun his little speech on the question of a man's rights, I had noticed that old Doc. Keaver had hob- bled up to the window which answered for the town postoffice and dropped a letter into the crack below the glass. Doc. doesn't loaf, and when I noticed that he remained to listen to the above conversation, I knew that the subject had more than usual in- terest to him. "I'd like to tell you boys a story," he began. "You all know of the death the other day of Jimmie Stones." We nodded assent, and to my mind came a picture of the good old days when we were young and the world was old. I recalled my first trip into this mountain region and the meeting the first day with Jimmie. We had become fast friends from that day. Now he was gone. But memory will remain, and the picture was clear. He was riding down the street as I landed from the country stage, and how I envied him on sight! He was so lithe, yet as he sat on his horse, he seemed to be a part of the noble black beast. There was everything about him to suggest freedom and nobil-

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ity. On the other hand, I had arrived as the village school teacher. True, I wa9 teaching in order to secure more money to go on to finish my college work in agriculture; yet how humble I felt, and how I envied Jimmie!

So on ran memory, and carried me before it. And I saw the coy, dainty Annie; and again, how I envied him! For he was the dashing Jim, and I was the humble teacher. And the prince won the princess and the teacher went back to finish his work at college. But Jim was not without his vice. He smoked. He rolled his own bull. It seemed to add to his jauntiness, and it was envi- — able the manner in which he could roll and light, then cast away the butt9, and again roll and light, so unconsciously, at least subconsciously. Not a detail did memory leave out. Jim and I were fast friends, though all along I envied him. But now, here I stood. Over there somewhere in the hills, where was located the village — burying ground, lay Jimmie the dashing, winning Jimmie. And here stood I, and some dozen others who were never so dashing, never so winning. Why was it all? Somewhere in the town, I had been told (for I was here now only as a visitor, a government inspector of pests) some- ;

— — where or to be specific over there in the old log cabin of old Celby's, was the once coy, dark-eyed Annie she and — four sorrowing babes. Why had sbe been left thus? It was at this point that memory left me and old Doc. Keaver took up his tale: "Well, Jimmie was like Will, here. He always argued that, if he had his smoke he would be the loser. No one else would. Jim was a fine fellow; you all know that; but that was his one mistake. "Yes, Jim sure was a noble fellow," continued the old man. "I recall when the 'flu' broke out in town ; he was one of the first to offer assistance; came right up to me and said that, as he understood it, I was having a hard time finding nurses. He said his wife was too weak to go out and leave the kids, but if I could use him any, he would be glad to help. "We surely did need him. There was a time when there were only four well men in town that we could get to go where there was 'flu.' All the others were either sick or half scared to death. But Jim kept right on going, and never stopped until he took down with the disease. Then, what do you think he did? He called me to him and said: 'Doc, don't tell Annie and the kids; for God's sake, don't. Annie couldn't live through a case of this kind, and she would be sure to come here. Just fix up a story of some kind, Doc. I'm too sick to think of one myself.' So we fixed up a room for him here, and I went over and told