Buffy's Hegira
BY MARIE MANNING
?OLLY B O O T H BY
was worth waiting for:
a nice, wholesome sort
of girl, with a dimpled
chin and appealing eyes
t h a t ought to have
been listed under the
head of " undue influence," since she had
nothing to appeal from or for, having
the most delightful home and as m a n y
blessings as were good for any one. T h e
one thing about her t h a t drove T o m
Standish to frenzy was her equanimity;
being a Boothby, she could hardly have
escaped it, but T o m felt t h a t to have
it to the extent Molly did was little
short of a crime.
T h e B o o t h b y home itself, in its easy-
going, delightful way, was ideal. No
wonder the children never wanted to go
away and " s e t t l e " ; even the glimpse of
it from the train window was heartening.
I t scrambled over the crest of a hill, com-
manding the best view of the valley; it
had been added to and subtracted from;
porches had multiplied, and the great
rooms of the pre-Revolutionary period
had been divided to meet the require-
ments of the Boothbys of three genera-
tions.
Clinton Boothby, the present head of
the house, was a sculptor. T h e double-
storied projecting " L " at the rear of the
building was his special province, and
here he fashioned those famous eques-
trian statues t h a t h a v e done so much to
raise the s t a n d a r d of American art. At
this particular time, the family circle
had been increased by three models—an
Indian, a buffalo, and a pure-bred Ara-
bian horse rented by a Wild West Show
to Boothby, who was going to use t h e m
in a heroic group illustrative of this Re-
public before the coming of the white
man.
T o m Standish felt t h a t he was a
model, too—a model of patience—since
this was his third journey from the
Southwest to t r y and induce Molly to
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return with him. She was, as usual,
fluent in excuses; two years ago it had
been t h a t her mother had not been well,
and last year her younger brother was
t o graduate from Princeton in J u n e and
she must be there. This year's excuse
seemed to T o m maddening in its u t t e r
banality: she had accepted the presi-
dency of the Gentlewoman's Co-opera-
tive League and proposed to organize a
series of pageants for the uplift and
amusement of the villagers, who were
sadly lacking in artistic influence. In
addition to the fostering of esthetic ten-
dencies, the League had a Woman's Ex-
change side to its character where cur-
rant jam, cross-stitch guest-towels, fluffy
layer-cake, and Irish crochet might be
exchanged for coin of the realm if any
one stood in need of them. T o m Stand-
ish, the six-footer, who had grown up on
a ranch in Texas, could have endured
any kind of human rival, but when it
came to arguments about forsaking gen-
tlewomen's j a m and hand-painted oat-
meal sets in his favor, he was too puzzled
for words.
Molly would, in all probability, h a v e
been too busy to listen. Her head was
full of schemes for a new pageant t h a t
would include the Indian, the Arabian
horse, and maybe the buffalo, if he could
be managed. But from the beginning
both the Indian and the buffalo had
refused to yield to t h a t something in t h e
Boothby character which was wont to
win the confidence of man and beast
alike. T h e y had remained sullenly in-
different to the blandishments t h a t had
been lavished on them in a vain effort
to break down the wall of distrust with
which they had apparently surrounded
themselves.
M r s . Boothby and her daughter did
not wonder t h a t any one as dirty as
" L o " should feel unhappy. T h e Indian
question, t h e y felt, could have been set-
tled years ago by the introduction of
soap and porcelain tubs on their reserva-
176 HARPER'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE
tions. " T r e a t t h e m as you would any-
other fellow-creature," Molly insisted,
with the finality of youth, when her
father proposed instalHng Lo in a t e n t
near the house. " I f it were J u n e , father,
I wouldn't have a word to say, but it's
nearly October—he might take cold."
T h u s Lo was given a room in the attic
t h a t no one ever used or was likely to
use. I t was a sort of Bluebeard cham-
ber, in which had been stored all the
outgrown " h o u s e beautiful" objects of
several generations. Here were the
" h a n d - p a i n t e d " milkmaid stools, the
plaques, the embroidered table-covers
t h a t M r s . Boothby had industriously
wrought as a girl and abandoned later as
"impossible." Globes of wax flowers and
" s p a t t e r - w o r k , " handicraft of earlier
ancestresses, were here kept concealed,
like crimes, yet left undestroyed for
sentimental reasons.
H a d Boothby been familiar with the
esthetic horrors of the Bluebeard cham-
ber, perhaps he would have understood
better the Indian's expression of settled
melancholy and u t t e r limpness; but he
had not been in the attic for years. D a y
after day he worked at Lo, but he might
as well have tried to model a meal-sack
for any spirit the red man put into his
posing. T h e buffalo, too, seemed equally
inert, and, beyond eating with great
regularity everything t h a t was put in his
pen, continued apparently t o nourish a
grouch. Molly had about given up the
idea of putting him in a pageant.
T h e joint melancholy of the twain was
a source of keen disappointment to Jack
and Billy, Clinton Boothby's grandsons
and neighbors. T h e y had become so
accustomed to the animals t h a t their
grandfather used as models t h a t they
had grown to regard themselves as
youthful Hagenbecks, and had begun to
lord it over other boys who could not
boast similar extensions of the family
circle. W h a t was the use of havmg such
splendid properties as a buffalo and an
Indian if they just humped around look-
ing dull?
So Jack, being a resourceful child, with
great powers of applying acquired knowl-
edge, wondered w h a t he could do t o
rouse the buffalo from his brooding mel-
ancholy—how to put a little zest in his
life, make him worth bragging about.
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Continuing this line of reasoning, he re-
membered having been told never to go
near the field where the bull was kept
with anything red on; now if a bull did
not like red, why, indeed, should a buf-
falo?
When Jack made his preparations, he
had perfect faith in the lock of the
buffalo-pen. He was not seeking to re-
vive the noble sport of the plains. He
had, in fact, no organized h u n t in mind
when he presented himself at the back
gate of his crony, Bobby Lincoln, and
said, " S a y , where's t h a t old red sweat-
er of yours?"
" I n the dog-house."
" S a y , you lend it to m e . "
" W h a t fer?" demanded the friend,
instantly on guard. There might be
delightful usages to which a discarded
sweater could be p u t ; it d i d n ' t do to be
recklessly generous.
" A h , you can't do n u t t i n ' wid it." In
the absence of censorship Jack loved to
talk like the boys who lived near the
railroad tracks.
" T h e dickens I c a n ' t ! W h a t kin you
do with i t ? "
" A lot you c a n ' t ! Say, you tell me,
has your grandfather got a buffalo—
now you tell me t h a t ? "
" N o , he ain't got no buffalo," drawled
Robert, reluctantly mulcted of the hu-
miliating t r u t h .
"Well, I'm goin' to have a bull-fight
with m y grandfather's buffalo — there
now!"
" G e e ! Goody! Golly! W h y didn't
you say so at first? You needn't have
t h a t ole dog-sweater—the puppy's been
sleeping on it; you can have m' Sun-
day sweater!"
ll'Sit^red?"
" R e d ' s blood. Oh, say, le's begin
right now. Where's your mother?
Mine's out. Oh, why didn't you say so
'fore?"
" N o w you d o n ' t fight a bull same's
you do a boy; you have to be a m a t a d o r
and things like t h a t , an' go into the ring
and bow and wave your scarlet cloak;
and then the bull he dashes at you; and
t h a t '11 be all right with grandfather's
buffalo, cause there's bars in front of his
pen—great, big, strong bars w h a t he
can't break down."
'Oh, gee ! I'r -gom for my best
 THE EXILE FROAI THE PRAIRIES PAID NO ATTENTION TO THE LONG-DISTANCE MATADORS
sweater, and, say, can't I be a matterdor,
too? I'll wear the ole sweater, the one
the p u p p y h a s . "
" Y o u can be m y second assistant
m a t a d o r , " said Jack, loftily, " a n d I'll
wear your Sunday sweater."
T h e m a t a d o r s did not waste much
time on their toilets, the p u p p y was de-
prived of his bed, and an earnest b u t
inglorious-looking m a t a d o r stood waiting
for his friend, who had new buttons to
struggle with.
" Y o u know I'm just a-lending you
t h a t sweater, not a-giving it to you,"
said the second assistant m a t a d o r — n o t
t h a t he was in the least doubt as to his
friend's understanding of the transac-
tion, but t h a t he wished to remind him
of the transient state of his splendor.
T h e chief m a t a d o r merely growled,
" A h , who d o n ' t know t h a t , " and with
his t r u s t y assistant made his way to the
buffalo-pen. N o t a soul was in sight.
N o t a single commanding, ordering, per-
suading grown-up, upsetting, according
to his personality, the best-laid plans
of boys and buffaloes.
T h e bull-fighters were each a trifle
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hazy as to their respective formalities.
T h e y had heard of bowing and hand-
kissing, but didn't think much of t h a t ;
so arm-in-arm they strode to the pen
and roared. T h e exile from the prairies
at first paid no attention to the long-
distance matadors, from whom he was
separated by stout, iron-tipped locust
bars, the whole fitted into a heavy door,
fastened by a padlock.
" S h u c k s ! " said the second assistant,
" l e t ' s kick t h e door and roar at him!"
Buffy did not seem to think much of
the self-introduction of the two m a t a -
dors. He slightly turned his head in the
direction of the sound, opened his mouth
as if he were about to reply, and seem-
ingly thought better of answering any-
thing so jejune and feeble.
T h e matadors now scrambled u p the
barricade and accosted the buffalo in
more challenging tones. Still nothing
happened! I t is sad to be a matador,
full of fire and purpose, and not have
your bull take you seriously. The
knights of the ring were still regarding
their prey, not knowin"; in the least
what to do next, when the buffalo saw
178 HARPER'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE

the best traditions of

his family by working
himself up with cer-
tain hunchings a n d
head wallowings from
a lesser to a greater
fury, before assuming
the first position for
running amuck. So
t h a t when he finally
emerged from the un-
locked pen the m a t a -
dors were nowhere in
sight. T h e y w e r e
bounding i n t o the
house, shrieking:
"Buffy's gone! He's
gone!"
"W h o' s gone,
dears.?" inquired M r s .
Boothby, descending
the stairs with the
beautifully deliberate
grace o f Louise of
Prussia. Never had
the family equanimity
appeared to be in bet-
ter working order t h a n
when she repeated:
" W h o ' s gone, and why
are you so excited ?"
" Buffy — grandpa's
buffalo!"
" G o n e like the dick-
' O U R BUFFALO IS LOOSE—RUN FOR YOUR I.LFE ens!" a m e n d e d the
assistant matador.
" H e ' s busted his pen!"
t h e m . At first he regarded them as if Molly, beautiful and star-eyed, also
they were a couple of flies t h a t had wrapped in the constitutional serenity
hghted on the pen, but something about of the family, leaned over the banisters
t h e m impelled another glance; in a sec- to inquire what was the m a t t e r . Her
ond he was up humping himself—the mother replied with cheerfulness t h a t
deadly insult of seeing red had been put the buffalo was loose. I t might have
upon him. been a daily occurrence, the descent of
His blood-curdling roar was all t h a t a raging bison upon a village in the
the most hardened m a t a d o r could de- neighborhood of New York.
sire; it was more than the novices had " I t does seem as if Buffy could not
anticipated. At the same moment, they have taken a more inconvenient time to
saw with petrifying horror t h a t the hasp escape, with not a man on the place—"
by which the gate of the pen was fastened " W e can telephone people t h a t he's
hung limply—some one had forgotten to coming." Mrs. Boothby had the air of
lock it. T h e y dropped rather t h a n slid one doing her d u t y by a neighbor about
from the bars, and, pale and chattering, to be surprised by a dinner guest.
rushed for the nearest section of the " O r I might saddle t h a t Arabian
corral fence and hurled themselves over father is modeling; he's wonderful on
it. BufFy could have overtaken them at the gallop."
a bound, b u t t h a t he was carrying out " B u t is he safe?"

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 BUFFY'S
" W e l l , it's hardly decent to sit here
enjoying a Morris-chair while our buf-
falo is running wild."
" W e ought to t a k e some risk, cer-
tainly, but think of your poor little
h a n d s — M y dear, there's Lo, he must
be in his room. He ought to be able
to manage him beautifully."
So up-stairs to the Bluebeard chamber
both ladies went. T h e y knew t h a t Lo
was not posing, because M r . Boothby
had been called to jNew York. T h e y
rapped two or three times, then opened
the door, b u t a dusty and neglected
chamber of horrors awaited them. T h e
bed had apparently not been disturbed
for weeks. T h e r e was not the faintest
sign t h a t the room had been occupied
since the noble red m a n was first given
t h e freedom of the spatter-work, the
hand-painted plaques, and the tufted
pin-cushions.
" W h y , he's never been here!" an-
nounced M r s . Boothby with just the
faintest diminution of the family equa-
nimity. " W e ' l l ask K a t i e , " as a plump
housemaid came up-stairs with her arms
full of clean linen.
" Katie, do you know where the Indian
HE CHARGED ITS CRYSTAL WIND-SHIELD, AND SHIVERED IT TO ATOMS
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HEGIRA 179
stays? He'sHaot been occupying his
room."
" I do, m a ' a m ; he do be shlapin' each
night wid the buffalo."
" W h y didn't you tell me.?"
" S u r e , why should I be troublin' the
likes av you wid where the likes av him
shlapes! Sure the buffalo-pen's the place
for him and the both of thim savuges
together."
" W h e r e is he now.?"
" S u r e the minnit Mr. Boothby sthops
t a k i n ' his likeness, m a ' a m , he's off in t h e
woods lightin' a bonfire."
" M a m m a , I shall saddle t h a t Arabian
immediately, ride him down the village,
and warn people about Buffy. I'll take
the short-cut by the lane and head him
off/'
" D o n ' t forget your gauntlets, Molly,
or you'll rum your h a n d s . "
" D o you mind getting me m y gray
pair, m a m m a , while I saddle him.? I
shall enjoy the ride famously; just the
thing for m e — m y blue dress is getting a
little tight. D o n ' t bother to come down;
throw the gloves out of the window—"
Molly's speech trailed after her as she
went down-stairs, in no indecent haste.
180 HARPER'S MONTHLY
but with the air of one whose errand was
pleasantly pressing.
In a few minutes Molly was on the
back of Sultan, taking t h e short-cut
down the lane to head off Bufty. T h a t
personage was not specializing in speed,
rather was he making a trial of muscle
and knee action before getting really
into action. B u t when he heard the
ring of the Arabian's hoofs down the lane,
BufFy drew in his head, as if about
to turn a somersault, then shot forth
his legs and ran lumpishly and stu-
pidly, exactly as his friends and rela-
tives run around the ring in t h a t act of
the Wild West Show set down as:
" W i l d and Thrilling Race of Positively
the Last Herd of Buffalo in Existence!"
Molly on the back of Sultan was de-
ciding t h a t an escaped buffalo was t h e
mildest of contretemps. T h e gallop was
a wonderful tonic. If people would only
not get fussed up over trifles! She
glanced back. Buffy, with his nose to
the ground, was thundering and snorting
terribly. T h e much-advertised motor
road t h a t was oiled daily, and t h a t had
p u t up the price of real estate in the
neighborhood, seemed to shake beneath
him; he was looking appallingly danger-
ous. She must get farther ahead and
warn people.
At this point, about t w e n t y yards in
front of her, she recognized old M r .
Jenks, whose twin social specialties
were deafness and a maddening and in-
exorable tendency to discuss the weath-
er. M r . Jenks did not hear the hoofs of
Sultan till t h e y were fairly upon him.
Molly made a megaphone of her hands
and shouted: " O u r buffalo is loose. R u n
for your life!"
" Did you say looks like rain.? I d o n ' t
t h i n k so. Miss Molly."
" O u r buffalo is loose—right back of
you."
" ' L o o k s like snow!'—You're jok-
ing—"
Leaning down from the saddle, she
grasped the astonished old gentleman
by t h e shoulders and swung him, right-
about face, to the actual moving-pic-
ture of the great N o r t h American bison
devouring space! I t was the sole occa-
sion in the history of t h a t community
when old M r . Jenks had no prognos-
tications to offer on the weather. W i t h
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a speed scarcely inferior to t h a t of the
buffalo, he made a dash for an adjacent
gate t h a t happened to be open.
Molly and Buffy were soon neck t o
neck; she prodded Sultan with her heel,
chirruping to him and begging him not
to let himself be beaten by a door-mat,
a sleighing-robe, one of a species all but
extinct. Sultan responded gallantly, as
one who had traditions to maintain.
Then a motor-car went zigzagging by,
carefully avoiding the informal Wild
West Show, but weakly indulging it-
self in several purely o r n a m e n t a l honk-
honks, which proved the last straw for
Buffy. Like most people reduced to
sedentary lives, Buffy, when really put on
his mettle, overdid. T h e honk of t h a t
automobile was as a deadly insult. He
charged its crystal wind-shield, shivered
it t o atoms, and expressed himself forci-
bly. T h e n Buffy and the motor parted,
with a feeling of m u t u a l respect, but
the car, sadder and wiser, honked no
adieus, and the buffalo resumed the
chase with something of the first flush
of adventure gone.
Less t h a n half a mile in front of Molly
stretched Main Street. Buffy in Main
Street was an impossibility—no one
could hope to negotiate a bison down
t h a t fussy little thoroughfare. There
would be motors, there would be car-
riages, there would be wagons drawn
by nervous horses, and there were two
china-shops, in each or both of which
Buffy might wrest the laurels from
the bull of platitude. There were other
m a r t s of t r a d e which presented possi-
bilities equally alarming; the green-
grocer was a great hand for a lavish
open-air display, so was the fruit m a n ,
while an invasion of the Gentlewoman's
Co-operative League, with the blue-and-
white tea-room in the front, was too aw-
ful to think about.
T h e immediate prospect before Molly
as she rode with comet-like speed down
the main thoroughfare was a series
of groups t h a t formed and dissolved
with kaleidoscopic rapidity—groups t h a t
formed as h u m a n curiosity impelled peo-
ple to rush out to see w h a t was hap-
pening, and dissolved when the merest
glance seemed to satisfy t h e m . W i t h
ease she held her own about fifty
yards ahead of Buffy. Her ear, now
 BUFFY'S HEGIRA 181
grown accustomed to the various sounds Sides, I want to warn the Gentlewom-
of which Buffy was capahle, from the an's League personally. T h e y are hav-
t h u n d e r of his hoofs to his snorts and mg their Colonial exhibit—we've loaned
bellowings, detected a new note in the t h e m our spinet and our Lowestoft."
orchestration—the hoofs of a horse keep- " T h a n k s for the t i p , " he said, with a
ing well alongside the fugitive. She quiet finality t h a t made her take a sec-
turned her head and caught a glimpse of ond look at him. T h e next moment he
T o m Standish spur-
ring along on a rangy
Irish hunter.
r or once m her life
Molly, without a sin-
gle reservation, was
unaffectedly glad to
see him. He could be
depended on, in case
BufFy got unmanage-
able, to t u r n the trick.
On the other h a n d , t h e
gallop had been so glo-
rious, had put her in
such riotous spirits,
had given her her head
to such an extent, t h a t
she was in no mood to
be sent back; and this
he would undoubted-
ly t r y to do. Her
ear told her t h a t the
horse was gaining on
the buffalo — a mo-
ment more and T o m
was riding alongside of
her.
" Y o u ' r e all right,
t h a n k H e a v e n ! Now
drop back a n d I'll
round him up as soon
as I can get a rope.
T h e r e are some out-
s i d e the hardware- HK I I U K D THE COIL OH Ropt OFF THE HOOK
store—"
" W h y should I drop
back? I just love it, and I've managed was shouting to the Greek fruit-man to
all right so far." put up his shutters, and waving to two
"Because," said T o m , severely, old ladies driving a pet horse of t w e n t y -
" y o u ' r e not M a r y , and he's not your two down Main Street to cut and run
little lamb following you to school." down an alleyway. T h e elderly trio
" T h a n k s ! Perhaps when you have safe, Standish spurred across the street
time you'll also teach me how to tell in the direction of the hardware-store.
the wild flowers from the birds." His eye swept the unfrivolous display of
" I wish I could teach you the differ- shovels, ashcans, preserving-kettles, and
ence between the splendid, courageous chains hanging like useful stalactites
thing you have done and the utterly about its door. There was rope, too,
foolhardy risk you now persist in run- but the sour grapes of fable hung no
higher. No knight of old, jousting in a
" Y o u ' r e runnmg one yourself. Be- tournament, ever aimed with greater
VoL. CXXIX.—No. 770,-23

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182 HARPER'S MONTHLY
precision than T o m Standish riding at
t h a t coil of rope dangling from a second-
story wmdow of a hardware-store.
A group on a balcony opposite was
more excited t h a n he. Molly's heart
was pounding in her t h r o a t when he rose
and stood in his stirrups as the h u n t e r
carried him close to the goal. N o —
would he, after all.? Swaying back
slightly in his stirrups, he reached high,
and with a deft t u r n of the wrist lifted
t h e coil of rope ofF the hook! T h e bal-
cony groups cheered, the window groups
took it up, t h e street re-echoed with it—
which was a mistake, for Buffy's nerves
were raw, and he began a sort of tango,
self-applauded with fierce bellowings.
T h e slight check caused by the hard-
w a r e - s t o r e ' t o u r n a m e n t had given Molly
t h e lead by a few feet, but now she
pulled up with T o m , neck to neck. He
was doing things with the rope, never
relaxing his vigilance on the road ahead,
shouting warnings, untying the string
t h a t held the loops of hemp, making a
slip-knot in one end with incredibly few
fingers—dividing the ten between rope
and reins—and presently a noose began
to emerge. Working down the rope, he
began wrapping t h e end opposite the
noose over palm and elbow, and soon he
was equipped with t h a t " b e t t e r half"
of the plainsman—a lariat. Molly had
watched him with the keen admiration
a woman gives to genuine manual dex-
terity. Standish had not spoken to her
since she had declined to " d r o p back."
H e had simply gone ahead, making
preparations for she knew not what.
"Tom!"
" Y e s , " he answered.
" T o m , the reason F m anxious about
BufFy and the Exchange is t h a t during
their Colonial exhibit they've taken t h a t
v a c a n t shop next door, and the whole
front is open—he could rush right in."
" I call t h a t sweet of them. J u s t the
place to round him up. Of course he's
likely to get mixed up with the tidies,
b u t w h a t is a tidy in a good cause.'"
" T o m , you w o u l d n ' t ? "
" D i d you ever hear of a worm t u r n -
ing.? Well, this represents a worm
turning in collusion with a buffalo—
quite a handsome acrobatic feat!" And
t o a boy on a bicycle he cried, " O t h e r
way!—a buffalo's loose."
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" T h i n k of poor Maria Endicott's
canned peaches and Miss Salem's fairy-
wedding cakes! T h e y actually depend
on t h e m . "
" I am t h i n k i n g , " he grinned with
gusto. " A n d I'm also thinking of those
frilly, ballety lamp-shades, also of the
jars of gentlewomen's j a m and the pans
of chocolate fudge, each of which I
could sue for alienation of affection—
your affection. I've a deep personal
grudge to settle with every one of t h e m . "
" C a n ' t you see the frightful danger,
the anxiety—?"
" N o , I can't. Buffy's not modest; he
announces himself a block off; the gen-
tlewomen will merely bolt for the back
door and find themselves enjoying the
salubrious air of William Street."
" Y o u a r e — " but she checked herself.
" I ' v e always thought bushels of you,
lorn.
" T h e n you've taken a queer w a y of
showing it. Now, don't palaver, Molly
—it doesn't go with your t y p e . T h e
only way for you to save the l a m p -
shades and layer-cake is to t u r n back
now—the Exchange is about a block and
a half off."
" T h e r e will be quantities of peo-
ple lunching there—defenseless w o m e n . "
Then, to an old lady shrieking from a
second-story window to be told w h a t was
the m a t t e r , " N o t h i n g is the m a t t e r ,
Miss Brooks, only our buffalo is loose.
Defenseless women, T o m . "
" I can just hear them ordering their
chicken salad and vanilla ice - cream
while Rome burns, or, rather, Buffy
bounds."
" Y o u mean to t u r n him in there un-
less I stop now.?"
"Absolutely yes, if t h a t ' s the only
way I can insure your safety."
" V e r y well, then. Good-by." And
she whirled her horse away with t h e
family equanimity in full possession.
T o m swept her a salutation as defer-
ential as if he had at his disposal all t h e
time in the calendar, with no raging
bison in the rear. Molly pulled her
horse into a side street, and in a couple
of minutes along came the roaring, bel-
lowing, snorting disturber of refined vil-
lage life, village life with the best tradi-
tions back of It.
Molly out of danger, Standish urged
 BUFFY'S
his horse onto the sidewalk and gave
the IjLiftalo the right of way. T h e street
was as clear as if newly swept by a
cyclone. T h e inhabitants had sought
s e c o n d - s t o r y windows. In the mean
time Standish had been doing things
with t h a t noosed coil of rope—getting it
into positions t h a t meant nothing in par-
ticular to these people of the effete East,
but t h a t would have signified much to
any one in the habit of handling cattle
or horses on the plains.
He let Buffy get ahead of him, perhaps
t w e n t y feet; then the coil of rope, wrig-
gling-and smuous, stealthy as a snake,
began its aerial pursuit. Once, twice,
thrice it grazed the back of the fleeing
buffalo, only to be pulled back for a
better aim as the noose failed to fall
true. Again Standish hauled in the rope,
paying it out in ever-increasing circles
with amazing deftness; it swung, it pur-
sued, gaining with almost conscious in-
telligence on the couple of tons of rushing
bufl^alo. In lithe undulations it flew—
doubling, turning, twisting. Larger and
larger grew the noose, one end of it
sagged, it dropped over the uncouth
head and shoulders, it tightened—and
the fractious buffalo was a prisoner, a
tugging, hauling thing at the end of a
Tun BUFFALO WAS A PRISONER, A TUGGING, HAULING THING AT THE END OF A TIGHT LINE
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HEGIRA 183
tight line—his progress arrested exactly
in front of the flaunting open front of the
Gentlewoman's C o - o p e r a t i v e League.
Molly, who had been watching the pro-
ceedings in breathless suspense, won-
dered if T o m had deliberately let his vic-
tim run till he reached this critical situa-
tion.
Every community is full of near-
heroes. These now rushed to t h e aid of
Standish and his haul—all of t h e m
wanted to pull on the rope, to jerk the
buffalo this way and t h a t ; but, thanking
them heartily, he proceeded to put into
execution a few standby tricks t h a t all
cattlemen know, and by loosening and
tightening of the noose to induce Buffy
to retrace his wild steps down Main
Street. Standish saluted Molly in pass-
ing-
" N o t h i n g at all; the merest trifle!"
the sweep of his sombrero indicated;
" y o u ought to see me do something
really worth while."
A pulse near her heart rose chokingly,
her eyes were dim—for once the family
equanimity drooped. " H e made me
turn back—made m e ! " She looked af-
ter the slender, muscular figure sitting
his horse with the ease of a plainsman,
and hugged the enforced submission to
•^""Wltet
184 HARPER'S MONTHLY MAGAZINE

her heart; it was good to be taken in tor-like groups and talk in undertones,
hand Hke t h a t and to be made to mind. and then emerge and recharge the air
T h e n she turned her horse toward with tresh antagonism. And presently
t h a t apple of her eye, the Gentlewoman's she learned the cause. I t had been
Co-operative League, to inquire for the tossed about t h a t she was trifling with
gentle nerves and how they stood the t h a t splendid young m a n who had not
shock, but she was not allowed to pro- only saved their lives, b u t also their
ceed far. She was stopped at every door Colonial exhibit, their gentlewomen's
and made to tell the story of the escaped jam, their cross-stitch, and all the works
buffalo, and these details increased and and pomps and frivolities t h a t were
multiplied, till by the time she reached theirs. Three times had he come all
the League the gentlewomen had it t h a t the way from Texas to plead his cause,
Molly had begun her mad ride on the and thrice had she refused—ambition
buffalo's back, and all of t h e m had t o was ruining her, ambition to continue
be set straight on t h a t point. as president of the Gentlewoman's Co-
Molly had not answered more t h a n operative League. Of course, she had
a few hundred questions before she be- started it, organized the pageants, in-
came aware t h a t the atmosphere of the duced the gentlewomen to leave their
League was imbued with a spirit of un- wares for sale, and t h u s had m a d e her-
friendly criticism. T h e gentlewomen, self dictator; but it was an office litter
who were all considerably older t h a n for a matron t h a n a young girl, and
she, would withdraw into little conspira- when her ruthless ambition caused her
to ruin a n o t h e r l i f e
besides her own it was
time to protest.
T h e y worked t h e
climax up, like the
conspirators in Julius
Ccesar. M r s . Ly-
• curgus Y. Greggs, who
was dying t o replace
Molly as president,
made an able B r u t u s .
Miss Boothby did not
catch more t h a n a
flying word here and
there, but the atmos-
phere of the League
fairly sizzled with con-
s p i r a c y . "And I
m o v e , " said M r s .
Greggs, " t h a t we get
up a set of engrossed
resolutions informing
t h a t splendid young
m a n how deeply the
League feels itself in
his d e b t . "
" H e should be m a d e
t o feel t h a t the gentler
sex has its softer side
and t h a t a m b i t i o n
does not rule us all,"
announced old M a r i a
Penthorp, who, like
Cassius, had a " l e a n
IT HAD BEEN TOSSED ABOUT THAT SHE WAS TRIFLING WITH THE YOUNG MAN and hungry look."

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 BUFFY'S HEGIRA 185

" I n d e e d , I hope you will." And Mol-

ly, who felt nearer to tears than the
family equanimity had ever before per-
mitted, excused herself and turned Sul-
t a n ' s head toward home.
Standish met her before she was half-
way there, still riding the rangy Irish
hunter. " W e l l , Buffy's all right, fastened
tight in his pen this time. I t seems t h a t
Indian picked out Buffy for a room-
m a t e because he couldn't stand the
knickknacks in the attic. Your father's
laughed himself hoarse, says t h a t ' s
w h a t ' s been the m a t t e r with the fellow
all along—those things kept him from
posing like a savage."
" T h a t ' s just father's nonsense. If he
didn't occupy the room, how could the
things affect h i m — "
" H e used it as a dressing-room
Really, Molly, I was
sorry to be a brute to
you and threaten t h e
tidies and jam if you
didn't turn back—but
it was too risky."
" O h , I don't really
care about the jam
a n d t h e pageants;
perhaps if you had
turned in Buffy at the ..v.a x>
League it might have
done them good, they SLAPPED HLM ON THE BACK AND GAVE HIM TWENTY DOLLARS
are so set— '
Standish seized the
occasion of her hrst adverse word But T o m was not as much amazed at
toward the sacred League to begin the turn of events as " L o , the poor
t o make love like a Viking, but I n d i a n " when he discovered t h a t his
apparently this strangely meek Mol- carelessness in neglecting to fasten in
ly, riding beside him, did not require his fractious room-mate had resulted in
such whirlwind love - making. Before a h u n t t h a t would not have shamed his
t h e y had reached the outer gate of ancestors. He expected some awful up-
the Boothby place she had promised to rising on the part of these pale-faces, b u t
go back to Texas with him. In vain the chief and his squaw had merely told
did he look for t h a t sufficient-unto-itself him not to leave the gate unfastened
quality, the equanimity t h a t was accus- again, and now here was this young
tomed to flutter like a banner in the pale-face man, who after he helped the
blue. She seemed to have mislaid it, to young squaw off her horse, slapped him
have forgotten t h a t it ever flaunted. on the back, wrung his hand, and gave
T o m helped her off Sultan and she went him t w e n t y dollars. And these people
into the house to tell her mother. thought the red man strange!

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 A Chat about Charles Dickens
BY HENRY FIELD]A'G
AS the interest in
Charles Dickens at all
d i m i n i s h e d of l a t e
years? Are the public
still eager to know some-
thing about him from
those who were in close
touch with him ? T o these questions I
think there can be but one answer. A
recent experience of m y own would have
been enough t o convince me of this, even
if I had not been satisfied of it already.
A short time ago I was invited as t h e
guest of the evening to a dinner of t h e
Whitefriars Club, a w e l l - k n o w n club
in London composed largely of journal-
ists and men of letters. I t is customary
on such occasions (which are strictly
private) for t h e guest of t h e evening t o
speak upon some topic of general inter-
est chosen by himself. Being a little in
d o u b t as t o t h e choice of a subject suit-
able for t h e occasion, I consulted a
prominent member of t h e club as t o
what kind of topic would be likely t o
prove most attractive t o t h e audience
I had t o address. He did not hesitate
for a m o m e n t . He told me in the plainest
possible language t h a t there was only
one subject upon which t h e y would ex-
pect me t o speak, and t h a t was the sub-
ject of m y father; and he urged me to
this course as being t h e one which would
be most certain t o give pleasure to t h e
members of t h e club. I acted upon his
advice—with a result which was high-
ly gratifying t o me. M y audience fol-
lowed m y remarks with a sympathetic
attention and a cordial approval which
showed how greatly t h e y were inter-
ested in t h e subject; while in the general
discussion which ensued it became a p -
parent t o me how true and how deep was
t h e reverence in which t h e y held his
memory. I t has now been suggested to
me by one who was present t h a t what
I said on t h a t occasion would be likely
t o prove of equal interest to the general
public as it did t o the members of the
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DICKENS, K.C.
Whitefriars Club, and t h a t I would do
well to publish m y remarks in t h e form
of an article.
Upon reflection. I am inclined to think
t h a t he m a y be right, and t h a t the public
m a y care t o know something about
Charles Dickens from one of his sons
who was in very close and dear rela-
tions with him. W h a t I purpose, then,
in this article, is t o p u t on record some
of the impressions about him which left
the most lasting effect upon m y mind;
while I shall hope, at the same time,
t o discuss one aspect of his work which,
up to a very short time ago, had received
but very slight and inadequate t r e a t -
ment. I allude to his work as a jour-
nalist, the history of which contains
much t h a t is interesting and which is not,
I think, familiar to t h e general public.
N o w if I were asked w h a t it was t h a t
had struck me most about m y father I
think I should unhesitatingly say t h a t
it was his extraordinary modesty. His
nature was of the simplest; his absence of
affectation or conceit surprising. When
it is remembered how, at t h e age of
twenty-four, he j u m p e d to t h e very top
of his profession and remained there to
t h e end, no man could well have blamed
him if he had shown some slight s y m p -
toms of having had his head turned.
I can emphatically assert, from m y
knowledge of him, t h a t there was a total
absence of anything of the kind.
T h e next point about him which I
should like to emphasize is his power of
work. I do not suppose t h a t there ever
was a man who lived a more strenuous
life t h a n he did. This can be fairly
gauged, to a certain extent, by his manu-
scripts alone; but no one can thoroughly
realize it except those who were con-
stantly in his company and knew his
habits well. He had not the faculty or
gift—call it w h a t you will—which An-
t h o n y Trollope prided himself upon, of
being able to "reel off" his three thou-
sand words before breakfast. On t h e