11, 1903.
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THE JFYfFTEM IN U&E,
r?INC I844,L1KETDBE SUP
LM It : If- Jr-tel
PERFORATING MACHINES
"W
ILL the Barclay pnntlng ma
chine revolutionize the tele
graph as it was established In
144 by tho Mom iytemr' la the all
absorbing question In the minds of thou
sands of telegraphers in the United
Slates and Canada.
To the younger members of the pro
fession, whose memory of the past Is
but a dream of boyhood, and whose
thoughts of the future do not go be
yond the pleasant anticipation of some
coming frivolity, this far-reaching ques
tion Is of little concern. But it Is t
in veterans who have grown gray ii
the service, men whose existence de
pends alone upon ths skill In manipu
lating a telegraph key and their ability
to decipher the mysterious dots and
dashes, that the encroachment of me
chanical genius upon their chosen pro
fession. Is causing no end of worry and
anxiety.
Since the S4th day of May. ISM. when
Professor Samuel 8. T. Morse sent those
four Immortal words. "What God hath
wrought." over an electric-charged wire
from the rooms of the I'nlted States Su
preme Court rooms In Washington. D. C,
to Baltimore. Md.. the supremacy of the
Morse system over any mechanical device
has been undisputed. Kvery effort of the
so-called "wizards of electricity." and
there, have, been many f them in the
past -odd years, has been looked upon
with disdain by telegraphers, and so ac
customed have they become to the re
peated failures to replace the Morse sys
tem with mechanical telegraphy that they
confidently believed that it would never
be accomplished.
Ask any telegrapher today for his opin
ion of the various systems of transmit
ting messages, and he will tell you that
ail of the new-fangled Inventions are im
practicable; that the telegraph as oper
ated at the present time will never be
Improved upon. His opinion la not In
fallible, however, and he can be par
doned for his optimistic view.
Music to Ills Ears.
The click of the instrument is mu
sic to his ears. He loves its sound
as the enthusiastic musician loves the
low. sweet chords from his violin.
Telegraphers have been known to be
come, extremely despondent, and even
suffer from lll-halth, when forced
through circumstances to absent them
selves from the telegraph key for a
considerable length of time. On such
occasions they will haunt an office
where they can hear the familiar click
of the Instrument and revel In the
music It makes for them. Ask any
man who has given - the telegraph
business to follow other pursuits and
he will tell you that the telegraph still
has a fascination for him that he can
not overcome, although he rosy not
aND it looked like there was
nothin' doin' too. Say, it ain't
often I can work up a feelin' like
that In New Tork either. But you take
a pay day afternoon In the bow-wow
days, when the asphalt gets to softenin'
up and the excursion trains are beln'
ent out double headed, and it's then
Broadway comes nearest to givln" an
Imitation of Main street In Skowhegan.
t was Just thtnkin' about chasin' my
self out to Primrose Park and treatin'
the mosquitoes, when up to the curb
rolls a big gasoline parlor car with the
windows all open and one lonesome gent
slttln' up stiff and straight In the mid
dle seat. Even before he opena the
gate I feels the cool air rushin' out, and
If I'd had my eyes shut I could have
guessed It was either Vice-President Fair
banks or Cuyler Hartshorn.
Which was It? Ah, say. you don't
think I'm handlin' the North Pole can
didate, do you? It was Cuyler. of course.
Maybe he ain't such a big block off the
berg as the Indiana gent, but In his way
Cuyler U a good deal of a human frappe.
But I don't mind a little thing like that,
specially this kind of weather. When he
drifts into the studio, there ain't any
need runnin' the electric fans.
He's been one of my reg'lars for quite
sometime now, and we've got so well
acquainted that h can almost tell me
from gwlfiy Joe. That's a good deal for
a man whose father-in-law is the main
shaft of a trust. Ever see one of that
kind? Two or three years aso Cuyler
was llvln' on the cheap at a collage club,
and hts whole axete was one trunk,
three shsres of Standard Oil common,
and the fam'ly coal of arms done in
colored Ink. Now he carries a latch key
to a double-breasted house on Riverside
Iirlve. sets In at directors' meetln's. and
makes a noise like a balloon, when pepsin-law
don't happen to be around the
office Bar. I can Just see him chlllln'
the gizzards of them ten-dollar clerks.
Never had a glimpse of Cuyler. eh?
lies one of those boys with a nose not
the Palestine brand, but a reg'Iar straight
front; torpedo bow. fog splitter a nose
what am. Holds It well up in the air.
Cuyler docs, and looks out past It at you
like he was tryin' to guess what excuse
vou had for llvin". That's what cornea
of rot beln' able to forget that you're
third vice-president of a trust by mar
riage and that your great-grandfather
had his name cut on a monument. So I
near loses my balance when CUyler gives
m the signal to butt into the limousine.
"Me?" says I. lookln' around to see tf
he didn't mean some one else. He nods
hts head.
"I expect you'd like to take a little run
with me down to t'oney Island and back,
wouldn't you? says he
If It had been John T. himself I
wouldn't have gasped harder, or grabbed
It quicker. "You couldn't have picked a
more wlllln party." says I. Jumpln' in
and slammln the door. "Coney for mine!
Giddap."
Cuyler pushes a little button, and Jules
on the front porch gives her the first
peed ahead.
"Gee!" says I. running my ye over
tlie silver trtmmln a and workin my
shoulder into the leather paddln'. "this is
opulence, all right! Guess you had to
chip a few thou, off
when you picked this
your bank
wagon, eh.
roll
Mr.
Hartshorn r
"It is rather a good car." says he. care
less like. "Belong to Mrs. Hartshorn's
fsther. you know."
I might hi e guessed that; for any of
l-.V
K '
have been actively engaged in it for
manv years.
When the mechanical Instrument en
croaches upon their profession, then
can they be blamed for feeling re
morseful? Can any other feeling be
expected of them? Yet that Is what the
Barclay printing machine, a silent
though swift-working system, that is
destined before many years to revolu
tionise the Morse system of telegraphy,
Is doing.
The present generation of thinking
men and women has ceased to marvel
at the wonderful miracles of electricity.
So many have heen the wonders
brought down from the clouds Dy
Franklin and made to perform such
miracles that nothina- is thought to be
mnossible. not even the mystery or
Cuyler's dear friends will be glad to tell
you how he's the tightest wad in their
bunch. I've heard more or less about
Cuyler's habits along thto line: but in
side of the next hour or so I has what
the pancake flour agents calls a practical
demonstration.
First off. this little trip of his, that has
all the tags of a reckless blowout, was
Just a swell way of doin' the iron steam
boats out of half a dollar. Father-in-law
beln' in Europe, the machine was made
free to son Cuyler. Seems that Mrs.
Cuyler was away with the old folks too,
and that's a whole ' lot cheaper than
payln' the passage money yourself.
Maybe Cuyler wan't achin" to give up
all these points; but I was tryin' to be
sociable, so they come out. Anyway, he
didn't talk none about countin" up how
much he was savin". Fact is, he seemed
to enjoy it.
"And by crossing Brooklyn bridge In
stead of taking the ferry." says he. "I
can make the entire trip without spending
a cent."
'You're a wonder." says I.
But say. I didn't half appreciate him. I
was. flgurhv on seein him let loose of
some coin after we got to the Island.
Ever know anyone to get clear of Coney
without glvin" up a few quarters? Well.
I'd never seen It done until Cuyler shows
me the way. nws he stow the car In
a garage and get out where the barkers
and pullers-in can have a fair show? Not
him! "He don't even unbolt the door.
We Just rolls ik and down Surf ave
nue a couple of times, strewin" pangs of
envy like a sprinklin' cart sheds water,
and then we heads for the city again,
without so much as crackin" open a bag
of peanuts.
"H2ver tap one of them Manhattan
Beach dinners?" says I, not hlntin', of
course.
"No," says he: "I always carry a
luncheon hamper with me."
Think of a man that has oodles of
It within reach cartin" cold sandwiches
over a 16-mll course Just lined with
cafes and road houses! I began won
derin" if I shouldn't offer to pay for half
of the gasoline.
We'd gone a couple of miles up the
boulevard from the beach when some
thin' happens to the spark, and FTenchy
has to haul up to one side of the road
and sprawl underneath with the monkey
wrench. Cuyler and I had climbed out to
stretch our legs tn the parkway: when
we most steps on the queerest-lookin'
freak I ever see at large.
He was squatttn' on the grass with his
back up against a tree, rollln' a cig
arette. And say. I've seen some fancy
regalia worn in place of clothes, but I
never got real close to such a dippy cos
tume as thst! Mostly It was unbleached
cotton, with a couple of careless folds
makln' the high water pants, and some
more of It draped over the shoulders and
tucked Into a red and green sash. He
has a bonnet made of the same stuff, a
dinky little vest with silver buttons and
gold braid on it, and a pair of shingles
tied on his feet for shoes. Sandals?
Maybe. But. barriit the bonnet. It wai
a hot wave get up for fair.
"Is It a new deal in bathln' suits, or
what?" says I to Cuyler.
"An Oriental costume of some sort,
sava he.
"Oh. one of them rug peddlers, ehr
says I. He must have strayed from the
Island. Walt till I try him with the Elk's
distress signal."
with that I puts my thumbs to my
ears and wiggles my fingers, just for a
. r . I t " N
- -irx I - .' - , -.v.,,. ,Tn 1 1,..
life Itself. The story of Its develop
ment can indeed be called romantic,
so far-reaching has its Influence been
brought about by electricity since it was
felt. But of all the inventions which
electricity has made possible, there is
none more wonderful than the Barclay
printing machine.
Invaded tlie 'Western Field.
While this marvel of electrical gen
ius has been in use between some of
Uie large Eastern cities for a year or
more, it did not encroach Uiion the
Western field until a few months ago.
The machine, or machines, as they
should properly be called, as there are
several composing one set, were in
stalled In the local office of the West-
Prof. Shorty Mceabe
josh. Ever have them funny fits when
you feel like you'd got to do somethin'
batty or bust? I guess it must have
been the effect of beln" so long with
Cuyler. He's always as serious as If he
was buryln his grandmother, and as
stiff as If he was a zinc rain pipe.
Course, I wa'n't lookin" for any an
swerin' move from the mummy. Them
folks never seem real human to me. I've
watched "cm squatttn' cross-legged In
show windows, and you couldn't tell
whether they was alive or Just wound
up. But someway this fool play of mine
seems to make a hit with this one. He
Jerks his chin up. and them big black
eyes of his come open wide. So I does it
again. I hadn't more'n started before he
untangles himself and stands up. And
eay, when he straightens out his Joints
he's a good deal of a boy 6 foot 2 if he
was an inch, and built as lean and
stringy as old Fltx.
"Ay yah!" says he, gruntln' it out deep.
"Ay yah! Ay yah!" Then he goes
through motions a good deal like mine,
only stlckin' his fingers out straight In
stead of up.
"Gee!" says I, "that's no great stunt.
How's this?"
Well. I must have made good: for the
next thing I knows he is bendin' himself
double, spreadin' his arms out like he
was goin' to dive, and uncorkin' the
swiftest set of remarks I ever heard. It
sounded smooth and kind of singsongy;
but there wasn't a word I could get next
to.
"Did you catch any of that?" I says to
Cuyler.
He has edged off to a safe distance
and is watchin' the performance in that
fish-eyed way of his. Never a grin,
though. He just shakes his head.
"Guess you'll have to slip on another
record." eays I to the stray. "Give it
to us in English."
He looks mighty puzzled at that: but
he makes out that he'e wastin" breath by
talkln', so he falls back on motions. First
he hits himself on the chest, next he
points back towards Coney, then he leans
forwards, runs his long neck out, bobs
his head from side to side and goes,
"Oosh! Oosh!"
"Why, sure!" says I. "That's as plain
as print old leather face. You're foot
coachman to one of them Streets of Cairo
camels. Yes. I've heard that "Oosh!
Oosh!' call lot of times. WTiat next?"
That's as far as he could go. though;
so we stands there lookin' foolish at
each other. And say, come to take a
close view, there was somethin' to the
cuss besides Just height. He was con
siderable on the burnette. beln" a nice
terra cotta from his feet up: but he was
as far from the Kufus Rastus class as
I am from beln' an Albino. He has a
nose ilke an eagle, and a pair of eyes
that lights up like a cat's does In the
dark. Then the way he carries his head
and ehoulders! Why. standin' there In
that circus outfit, with his bare legs, he
looks as tniposin' and satisfied as any
floor walker you ever see: and anybody
that can throw a front like that always
gets me Interested.
Just then Jules backs out from under
the machine and strolls up to see what
we've struck.
"Hey, Frenchy!" -says I. "Here's a
friend of mine that ain't had his voice
naturalized, but has got thoughts he
wants to unload. S pose you try some
of vour pollyvoo lingo on him."
Would you believe It? Them two ig
norant foreigners goes to chinnln' away
as slick aa though they'd been brought
3
ern Union Telegraph Company a short
time ago. The day that the big wood
en boxes containing the apparatus
were lifted to the operatingroom and
were 'unpacked will long be remem
bered by many operators who were
present at the time. Word had come
over the wires from their fellow
craftsmen In some of the large East
ern cities that the machines had been
Installed and were working satisfac
torily. The word had been passed along
until every telegrapher In the building
up on the came, block, both of em
hunchin' their shoulders, and liftin' their
eyebrows, and sawin' the air with their
anna, until you'd think they was workin'
up for a rough and tumble.
"Ah, don't call him that again,
Frenchy, says I. "What's all the de
bate about, anyway?"
"He says his name Is Hassan el
Boom."
"Sounds like it might be so," say J.
"Did he say anything else?"
He had. He'd been givln' Frenchy a
thumbnail sketch of his life. Seems
that Hassan was a sure enough Ayrab
that had been brought over by the
Luna Park people. Some way or other
they'd hurt his feelln's and he'd up
and chucked the Job, Just walkin' out
without sayin' a word to nobody. All
the wardrobe he had was what he
has on, his cash capital was a few
'v. "'-
0', H s !'
mi
.'ai-.-.
THE WAY THE AYRAB TAKES
copper pieces that looked like trunk
checks, and he didn't have any more
Idea where he was goin' than a pup
in an express crate.
"Comfortable way to travel." says I.
"Tell him I wish him luck. Jules," and
I follows Cuyler Into the machine.
Frenchy has delivered the message and
was gettin' into his seat, ready to
turn her loose, when Hassan rushes
over and starts to pile tn with us.
Cuyler most has a fit at that, and
waves him off with both hands.
"Tell him to . clear out, Jules!"
says I.
But Hassan don't -act like he was
takin' orders from any one. He throws
out a few offhand remarks In French,
and gets a grip on the door handle.
Jules turns to me. gnnnln'.
"He says that where you go he goes,"
savs Frenchy.
"He does, ehr says L "Well, you
tell Mr. El Boom he's got another
guess comln' to him. I ain't runnin'
any sideshow."
- -X . ' ' . . -'
M. ..:Vi
h.ir- "
3lW
was eager to view for the first time
the wonderful machine that was even
tually to mean so much to them. The
matter had been made the topic of
conversation for several days, and all
the while every eye was turned in the
direction of the Barclay printing ma
chine, eager to see the beginning of
what, to some of them, at least, spelled
their doom. After several days the try
ing ordeal was practically over for the
time being. Skilled electricians had put
the machines in place and all was In
readiness for the first attempt. Long
before the arrival of the machines a
picked set of young men and women
had been selected from among the
many employes of the Western Union
office. With all the available material
they had been coached In the manipu
lation of the machines. Pictures had
been shown them and they were in
structed to familiarise themselves with
every little detail. Consequently, when
the machines were In place there was
little doubt In the minds of the tele
graph officials that they would be suc
cessful. Finally, one morning, the
psychological moment arrived. The
operators who had been assigned to
operate the machines, already familiar
with many of the details, took their
places. The current was turned on,
the machines began to hum and the
tension of every man and woman In
the large room was at once at its
height.
Morse System Seems Doomed.
Five, ten, fifteen minutes passed, and
the death knell of the Morse system was
sounded. All the doubts in the minds
of the pessimists had vanished. They
had seen with their own eyes the won
derful machines turn out perfectly print
ed messages at a rate that defied the
competition of mere men.
It was the same old story of the print
er and the Mergenthaier nnoiype macnine.
Tells How He
Jules puts that Into" frog tain ana
fires It at leather face. In a minute
I has the answer.
"He says you are the son of a sheik,
and that he will serve you forever,"
says Frenchy.
"Gwan!" says I. "Tou tell him from
me that he's a son of a gun and that
he'd better roll his hoop."
But say, all the impression Frenchy
could make on that lengthy Ayrab was
to set him to bowin" and scrapln" and
sayin' over and over that he'd picked
me for his boss. Cuyler seems to think
there's somethin' funny about that, and
he comes as near snlckerln' as I ever
see him.
"Gee!" says I, "this Is touchin" if
true. Ask. him what kind of work he
can do."
"He says he can only drive camels,
says Jules.
"J
i
i
i
7
As
V i
J.
4 !
mmmm
i . -
CUYLER'S MEASURE WAS A CAUTION.
"Camels!" says I. "Here, le' me talk
to him. Say, you bloomin' long-legged
Ayrab, do I look like I owned a menag
erie? Nix! Can't use you in my busi
ness no way. If I was you I'd chase
back to the Island and get on the Job
again. Skiddoo, now! Mushong!"
Say, you never saw any one look so
cut up and squelched as that Ayrab.
He hangs his head down and acts like
a dog that has been kicked under the
bed. Even Cuyler, that seldom gets his
mind off himself for more'n a minute,
seems to think it's too bad.
"Frenchy," says L "you tell him to
cheer up. Tell him I'll put his name
on file and next time I need a camel
driver 1 11 send for him."
But tnat didn't do any good.
"He says you have spoken to him as
people In his land speak to the beasts,"
says Frenchy. "He Is sad that the son
of a sheik should find him so un
worthy." "Now wouldn't that crust you!" says
I to Cuyler. "I thought I was Just
My of those telegraphers who stood be- ,
side the Barclay printing machine watch
ing Its workings for a time realized that
the time of the Morse system would soon
be over. True, it may be several years
before a complete revolution is effected,
but It is as sure to come as the cycle of
time moves forward.
The machine is simple enough In oper
ation, the operator, who may be some
boy or girl who has never been inside
of a telegraph office, touching the keys
of the typewriter Just as one writing on
an ordinary office machine.
The instrument has the standard Key
board. The touch of the key causes a
certain combination of holes to be
punched in a strip of paper, as sheets
are punched for piano players. Each
combination of holes represents a letter.
When the message is written, the punched
strip is run through a sender. This has
a system of plungers that fit into the
holes, and when a combination of plung
ers have been operated it sends a cur
rent through the wire that operates the
corresponding key upon the receiving
typewriter.
Transmission Is Automatic.
No operator Is needed at the receiving
typewriter. A girl only Is needed, whose
duty It is to keep the machines filled with
paper and carry away the messages as
fast as they are written. One girl can
take care of a dozen or more receiving
typewriters. The carriage moves back
and forth and the spacer turns the roll
automatically. The bars rise up and
strike the roll, the carriage moves along
of Its own accord, and at the end of the
line the carriage gives a click, the
spacer turns the roll two notches, and
the carriage slides back for another line.
All the operator has to do Is to pull the
paper out when It gets full and slip In
a fresh one. .
The typewriter that perforates the tape
for transmitting the messages is tech
nically known as the perforator. Upon
pressing any of the keys the correspond
ing series of puncheB, operated by an
electrical current, are forced down and
make clean, round holes in the waxed
paper strip. This strip is about one-half
Inch wide. There is a combination of
punch holes for each of the 56 letters and
characters, one to operate the spacer,
one to make the carriage return, and one
to turn the roll for a new line. When
the Tmnehed sliD Is Inserted In the trans
mitter the holes allow rods or punches
Disposed of
huntln a butt-in: but accordin' to his
description I've handed a raw deal to
a poor relation.-
"These Arabs are sensitive beggars,"
says Cuyler, "and he has evidently tak
en quite a fancy to you."
"It's a great thing to have such
winnin' ways," says I. "But he is up
against it, ain't he? What do you say
to cartin' him up to town and tryin
to find some of his friends ?"
I was lookin' for Cuyler to go up
In the air at that proposition, but he
don't. Havin' figured out that It won t
cost him anything, and that maybe
he'll have more or less fun with me,
he says it's the only thing to do. So
I motions to Hassan to Jump in.
"Come on, you smoked second cous
in!" says I. "Get aboard, and we'll
show you a way of gettin' over the
ground that's got camel ridin' spiked
to the track."
Maybe you think that Ayrab holds
on with both hands and presses down
hard with his feet when Jules begins
to let her out. Not much. He squats
In a corner seat, lookin' as calm as
though he was settin' on a rug in front
of a tent. And him lately landed from
a country where rapid transit means
a ride on a hump-backed muley cow!
They're great people, eh? Durin' the
whole trip he hardly makes a move.
Mostly he keeps his lamps glued to
me, lookin' kind of sad and brotherly,
but he don't take any more notice of
Cuyler than as if he hadn't been there
at all.
When we gets across the bridge, we
has Jules steer down to lower Wash
ington street, where there's a whole
colony of rug sellers and such, thinkln'
that our Ayrab would be right to home
amongst that gang. The first Syrian
restaurant we comes to I - joInts out
the window letterin' to him real en
thusiastic; but it don't get him ex
cited a bit. Then we, hauls up before
an Ayrab joint I knows of. where they
sells all kinds of brass tinware, and I
goes in and drags out the boss.
Does Hassam fall on hts neck like he
should? Nover a fall! He just looks
him over kind of cool and distant, and
then sticks out the back of his hand
to him. And say, that First Ward store
keeper don't do a thing but kneel on
the bubble step and give Hassan the
past grand master salute.
"Glad he's an old friend of yours,"
says I. "We'll hand Mr. El Boom over
to you right here."
The storekeeper says It'll be a great
distinction If the Honorable Hassan
will condescend. Hassan don't make
any move to go, though.
"Frenchy," says I, "give his nibs the
tip that here's his boardin' house."
Jules does his best to make it clear,
but Hassan only shakes his head and
points to me. We argues the case for
ten minutes; but all we gets out of
him is that I am the son of a sheik.
"Put that in a can," says I. "Tell
him me father was a section boss.'
That wa'n't any use, though. Nothin'
was. We tried Hassan on three more
Ayrabs, and while they all treats him
mighty polite, he sticks to his original
proposition that I am it. Cuyler is
gettin' more pleased every minute.
'.'Professor," says he, "it seems that
you have Hassan on your hands."
"Ah, say!" says I, "what use have I
got for a camel driver?
But unless we chucked him bodily
-'fcrleV-':''!v V'
to pass through, making a current con
nection that passes to the distant ma
chine. Amazing Speed.
The machines are much faster than the
fastest operator, and are absolutely ac
curate. In cases of a mistake, both the
sending and receiving machines stop, and
an automatic signal is sent. The receiv
ing machine has to receive the exact let
ter sent or else It will not work. If there
is something the matter with the current
in the receiving machine so that the letter
sent is not recorded it gets stuck; the
signal is sent back to the sending ma
chine, which also stops. This prevents
the sending machine from going on blind
ly and sending the telegram, which would
have to be repeated.
The equipment of the Barclay printing
machine consists of four perforating ma
chines and two transmitters-and receiv
ers each. As an indication that the ma
chine has speed es well as reliability,
an instance is cited when a test was
made some time ago. On a circuit be
tween Omaha and Kansas City 8S "-.
sageB were handled in 38 minutes with
out a single break or mistake. By the
old Morse system it would have taken
a skilled operator nearly two hours to
transmit the same number of telegrams.
It Is especially adapted to press work,
although the use of the machine lias
been confined to message work so far.
It has been known to transmit at the
rate of 130 words a minute, which Is
nearly three times as fast as the most
expert operator can send by hand.
The Inventor of the machine, which
bears his name, is J. C. Barclay, vice
president and general electrician of the
Western Union Telegraph Company. Mr.
Barclay Invented many different kinds
of machines used in telegraphy, but none
of them compare in any sense with the
Barclay printing machine. They are costly
instruments, the receiver alone costing
J1000. One set of the machines will take the
place of several operators, and while
they are quite an expense to operate,
they do away with the high-salaried op
erator and save considerable wire mile-
Vp to the present time these machine
have been installed in all of the larger
offices as far west as Omaha. They will
soon be In operation in all of the large
Western cities, particularly those on the
Paciflo Coast.
Omaha, October 5.
a "Pick-dp
into the street there wa'n't anything
r n An hut keen him. And he
acts so sad and meek every time I
starts to give him the fire that I
couldn't do it. So I gives up. and we
starts for the studio. As soon as we
lands there I rings up the Luna Park
people, tells 'cm about Hassan, and
asks If they don't want to send for him.
They don't. They said if I'd got him
I was welcome, and then they rings off.
Just as Cuyler was startln' to leave
mo and Hassan together. In blow s
Florrie Powers. You've heard of Flor
rle? Reportin' wars is his specialty,
and when there ain't any wars he's
wrltin' books about them he's seen
pulled off.. He knows everybody, Flor
rie does, from Jap and Russian Gen
erals to chaps like Cuyler and Swlfty
Joe.
"Hello!" says he, spottin' Mr. EI
Boom In the far corner of the front
office, "where did you pick up the
Arab?" .
"That's a souvenir I brought back
from Coney," says I. "Don't want an
A-l camel driver, do you, Florrie? He
says his name is Hassan el Boom."
"Boom!" says Florrie, lookin' some
surprised and steppin' over for a closer
view. "Well, I'll be hanged!" At that
he begins tearin" off chunks of Jerky
Ayrab talk that brings the camel pilot
to his feet with a broad grin on his
face.
Seems that he'd been a kind of a
guide for Florrie over in Africa some
where only two or three years back,
and they were old chums. When they'd
talked it over for awhile I breaks in
and remarks:
"He's yours, Florrie; you saw him
first. But what's this about his callln"
me the son of, a sheep?'"
"Sheik," says Florrie; "that means
chieftain, the bi man of the tribe.
His father is one, you know, and he
says you have the noble bearing of a
leader, too. Besides, you gave the sig
nal of the Grand Lodge of the Desert.
How about that?"
When I explains to Florrie that it
was just a bluff of mine, and asks
him to beat it into Hassan's nut thst
I can't have him hangin' around, they
has' another powwow.
"Well?" says I, after It's over.
"He wants to go back to Arabia,"
says Florrie.
"Good!" says I.
"But he's broke." says Florrie. "1
can't afford to send him back: and II
surely isn't up to you to buy his tick
et. Here is Cuyler, though."
"Me!" says Cuyler, turnln' psie.
"Why not?'" says Florrie. "You have
more money than you will ever know
what to do with, haven't you?"
"Sure thing!" says I. "Coylcr, you'rs
elected."
Well, of all the squlrmin' and cryin'
poverty. Cuyler gives the prize exhibi
tion. He wants to make a break for
home right away.
"Walt a minute," says Florrie, "whin
I tell Hassan about it."
At that he lines the camel driver up
in front of Cuyler and gives a lecturs
that must have been real eloquent. You
didn't need to understand the words to
know that Florrie was tellin' how rich
Cuyler was, and how it hurt him to
part with a dollar. But the best pari
of the show was watchin' that Ayrab'i
face. Talk about, your cold size-upsl
The way he takes Cuyler's measure,
(Concluded on Page 11.)