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About The Battalion. (College Station, Tex.) 1893-current | View Entire Issue (April 5, 1912)
gently curling smoke, and in the soft shade of his study lamp those walls were grand. I could catch a faint of all—heads, horns, lariats and pipes— as the air grew denser with the gentle -puffing; an expression of far-away dreaminess over his face; around me, the drifts o fcurling smoke—a little floating cloud here, a tiny hurricane there—and beyond it all, faintly, I could see those wild staring bison heads, horns, long snake-like lariats; and w'hat chains of weird fantastic thoughts tore through my mind. There we would sit; the minutes would stretch into hours, and the hours far into the night; but who could move in such an atmosphere? “Many, many such nights I have spent. As time went by these moods seemed to change from those of a far away lonesomeness into sadness and melancholy. I tried to cheer him by long walks on the boulevards, and into the parks and often we went to the opera; but it was only a few months till there was a mist in his eye and a sadness in his face. Surely he was pining his soul away for some thing that was somewhere beyond the seas. But, beside an occasional in terest in his pipes—a caressing touch and a fond look at each—his concern in life seemed to have withered and to have died. “Finally, he was rarely at the studios, for his Angers had become excited and he ruined figure atfer figure. At this he would merely smile; a faint wan smile. And then tBere came a time when he never left his room, but was always at the little table in his den—always smoking, puffing long curling wreaths into the air. “It was during this period that I happened into his apartment one morning and after knocking several times and receiving no reply, I opened the door. As I entered, he quickly thrust something into the desk in the corner, and when he turned about there was a tear on his cheek and anguish in his face. He tried to smile, but it was a failure. He tried to speak pleasantly, but it was evident that it was forced. His shaky fingers reached for a pipe and soon he was loosing its contents into the air in those long curling wreaths, which he could do so well. And soon his attempt at pleas- antless died and he sank into a stu por—ever puffing and curling his wreaths of smoke into the air. Ah! it was that day that he said the only cross word that I ever heard him utter. When I arose to go I wished to speak to him, but he made no answer to my words, and I lay my hand on his shoulder and shook him gently. He shrugged them ill-naturedly and said, ‘Don’t!’ In a moment the anger flitted from his face and he smiled and begged my pardon. “I called again the next morning, for I ever feared that he would be come ill, and was greatly surprised. He seemed half his old-time self again as he bid me a cheerful good morning. There was not a sign of smoke in his room and his windows must have been open the whole night. All that day he seemed in fine spirits, and in the evening we went for a walk on the boulevards. “The next night I called, and brought with me, at his request, two friends. Ah! had I but known that it was to be the last night—the last time I would see him alive! No more was I to sit in that haze of wafting smoke, there in the soft shade of his lamp, and peer through the mists at those staring heads, and horns, and myriads of pipes. Had I only known, perhaps, even now I might be with him. But when we entered I knew that it had been but a passing wave, for again the atmosphere was heavy, and once more there was melancholy in his expression. We had talked per haps for an hour when he arose and went to his desk and drew forth a case. It was the same that I had caught a glimpse of the morning when I came in and found him with a tear on his cheek, and a look of anguish in his face. He laid it on the table, and without a word he pulled back its lid. A gasp of amazement came from us. It was an immense pipe—but it was not the size at which we started. It was the bowl—the perfect face of an Indian maiden. Ah! a beautiful In dian maiden, perfect in every delicate feature, and wreathed around with a flower that I had never seen. All was silent. We gazed long in admiration until he moved. He filled the huge bowl and put a live coal on it, then settled into his chair and began once omre to loose those long drifting curls into the room. There was a denser mist in his eye now, and more sadness in his face than I had ever seen before. It was far into the night w r hen we left him, and he still puffed the wreaths about himself. Ah! had I but known it was the last, as I cast a final look upon him. “I felt an uneasiness all that night and early the next morning I dropped in to see him. When I opened the door there he sat, leaning on the ta ble, one arm stretched across it; in the other he clasped his beautiful pipe, and pressed that face against his. I paused a moment in weird ad miration. Evidently he had not long been asleep, for the smoke still hung heavily and densely in the air. Through the drifting haze I could see those fantastic decorations that so of ten had bound me in fascination. A flitting memory of countless nights there in those labyrinths of drifting smoke quickened my soul. I stepped over to him and laid my hand on his shoulder, then my eyes fell on that face of the Indian maiden. I paused. Perfect image! Every feature so nat ural. ‘Breathe! Breathe!’ I whispered in ardent admiration. Ah! that she were alive. I then looked into its bowl. The ashes were sunk far down into it.' Impossible that Ihe should have smoked so much, I thought. Then I shook him gently. His head rolled over on one side. He was dead! The pipe of the Indian maiden had done its work. “Yes, he was dead; and on one side of the table I found a letter for my self. I will not tell all that was in it, for it was a story of a love and of a quarrel with his father, and of his leaving home. It told that he knew well what he was doing and asked that his pipes all be buried with him and the one of the Indian maiden be clasped to his breast, and further begged that I accompany his remains to his father. “I did all that he asked. I brought his remains across the sea, and left them out yonder on the banks of the Pecos. And when we laid him there I heard his old father sob to himself that it were better that it should have happened than that his son should have pined himself away in a foreign land. “That, gentlemen, is how I came to be in Texas. After being with this man for such a long time, I wanted to be where I could meet more of his kind, and that is why I am now at A. & M.” Just as the “Little Frenchman” (66) had finished the story his audience began to leave, one by one, for each knew that his story would not com pare with this one, a story of the love and devotion of a Texan. BACHELOR PROFS. VICTORIOUS. Last Basketball Game of Season Re sults in Defeat of Cadets. The cadets’ clean basketball record fell last Friday, when the Bachelor Profs’ quintet of basket tossers meted out a 24 to 22 defeat. The first part of the game was very close. The ball shot back and forth down the floor, but so close was the guarding that every attempted shot died in its infancy. Then Thornton drew first blood with a field and foul goal in rapid succession. Kern scored the first goal for the Cadets. Then Driess added another. This put the Cadets in the lead and was the cause of much cheering. At the opening of the second period the score stood 14 to 8 in favor of the Cadets, who immediately increased their lead, Kern, Dreiss and Washing ton each throwing a goal. But this out burst of speed seemed to tire the Ca dets, while the Profs, appeared to be fresh. At this period Lieut. Fenton, who took Thornton’s place at the be ginning of the second half, closely guarded, was content to show some of the neatest floor work pulled off this season. Time and again he eluded his guard with a lightning-like whirl and passed to a waiting teammate. Later hes hot two field goals. Thorn ton played a great pasisng game for the Profs. He was doing something all the time. They say that after the game he had to retire to the chemical laboratory, where he made and inhaled some oxygen in order to get back his breath. Steger also played a good game. Captain Driess and Kern were the Cadets’ chief scorers. With every seat packed and an ex traordinary band concert, the cheering and music made a fitting climax to the last game of the season. The following was the line-up; Profs.—Steger, right forward; Fen ton, Thornton, left guard; Layman, Thornton, center; Harris, right guard; Cassidy (captain), left guard. Cadets—Caldwell, Morrison, right forward; Driess (captain), left for ward; Kern, center; Washington, Ev erett, right guard; O’Conner, left guard. Summary; Field goals—Fenton 3, Thornton 2, Steger 3, Harris 1, Cassidy 1, Washing ton 1, Caldwell 1, Kern 4, Driess 3, Everett 1. Foul goals—Thornton 2, Fenton 2, Kern 2. Referee—Dr. Wright. Umpire—DeTray. Time of halves—Twenty minutes. Come out and see Dutch pitch the next Game HE IS A CORKER
