LITMIR.BIZ

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day some time or other when we’ve got to do that, Washington, and it’s not a bad thing for us, either, take it by and large and all around—I had to stoop a little and offer to take Constantinople. Washington, consider this—for it’s perfectly true—within a month I asked for China; within another month I begged for Japan; one year later I was away down, down, down, supplicating with tears and anguish for the bottom office in the gift of the government of the United States—Flint-Picker in the cellars of the War Department. And by George I didn’t get it.”

      “Flint-Picker?”

      “Yes. Office established in the time of the Revolution, last century. The musket-flints for the military posts were supplied from the capitol. They do it yet; for although the flint-arm has gone out and the forts have tumbled down, the decree hasn’t been repealed—been overlooked and forgotten, you see—and so the vacancies where old Ticonderoga and others used to stand, still get their six quarts of gun-flints a year just the same.”

      Washington said musingly after a pause:

      “How strange it seems—to start for Minister to England at twenty thousand a year and fail for flintpicker at—”

      “Three dollars a week. It’s human life, Washington—just an epitome of human ambition, and struggle, and the outcome: you aim for the palace and get drowned in the sewer.”

      There was another meditative silence. Then Washington said, with earnest compassion in his voice—

      “And so, after coming here, against your inclination, to satisfy your sense of patriotic duty and appease a selfish public clamor, you get absolutely nothing for it.”

      “Nothing?” The Colonel had to get up and stand, to get room for his amazement to expand. “Nothing, Washington? I ask you this: to be a perpetual Member and the only Perpetual Member of a Diplomatic Body accredited to the greatest country on earth do you call that nothing?”

      It was Washington’s turn to be amazed. He was stricken dumb; but the wide-eyed wonder, the reverent admiration expressed in his face were more eloquent than any words could have been. The Colonel’s wounded spirit was healed and he resumed his seat pleased and content. He leaned forward and said impressively:

      “What was due to a man who had become forever conspicuous by an experience without precedent in the history of the world?—a man made permanently and diplomatically sacred, so to speak, by having been connected, temporarily, through solicitation, with every single diplomatic post in the roster of this government, from Envoy Extraordinary and Minister Plenipotentiary to the Court of St. James all the way down to Consul to a guano rock in the Strait of Sunda—salary payable in guano—which disappeared by volcanic convulsion the day before they got down to my name in the list of applicants. Certainly something august enough to be answerable to the size of this unique and memorable experience was my due, and I got it. By the common voice of this community, by acclamation of the people, that mighty utterance which brushes aside laws and legislation, and from whose decrees there is no appeal, I was named Perpetual Member of the Diplomatic Body representing the multifarious sovereignties and civilizations of the globe near the republican court of the United States of America. And they brought me home with a torchlight procession.”

      “It is wonderful, Colonel, simply wonderful.”

      “It’s the loftiest official position in the whole earth.”

      “I should think so—and the most commanding.”

      “You have named the word. Think of it. I frown, and there is war; I smile, and contending nations lay down their arms.”

      “It is awful. The responsibility, I mean.”

      “It is nothing. Responsibility is no burden to me; I am used to it; have always been used to it.”

      “And the work—the work! Do you have to attend all the sittings?”

      “Who, I? Does the Emperor of Russia attend the conclaves of the governors of the provinces? He sits at home, and indicates his pleasure.”

      Washington was silent a moment, then a deep sigh escaped him.

      “How proud I was an hour ago; how paltry seems my little promotion now! Colonel, the reason I came to Washington is,—I am Congressional Delegate from Cherokee Strip!”

      The Colonel sprang to his feet and broke out with prodigious enthusiasm:

      “Give me your hand, my boy—this is immense news! I congratulate you with all my heart. My prophecies stand confirmed. I always said it was in you. I always said you were born for high distinction and would achieve it. You ask Polly if I didn’t.”

      Washington was dazed by this most unexpected demonstration.

      “Why, Colonel, there’s nothing to it. That little narrow, desolate, unpeopled, oblong streak of grass and gravel, lost in the remote wastes of the vast continent—why, it’s like representing a billiard table—a discarded one.”

      “Tut-tut, it’s a great, it’s a staving preferment, and just opulent with influence here.”

      “Shucks, Colonel, I haven’t even a vote.”

      “That’s nothing; you can make speeches.”

      “No, I can’t. The population’s only two hundred—”

      “That’s all right, that’s all right—”

      “And they hadn’t any right to elect me; we’re not even a territory, there’s no Organic Act, the government hasn’t any official knowledge of us whatever.”

      “Never mind about that; I’ll fix that. I’ll rush the thing through, I’ll get you organized in no time.”

      “Will you, Colonel?—it’s too good of you; but it’s just your old sterling self, the same old ever-faithful friend,” and the grateful tears welled up in Washington’s eyes.

      “It’s just as good as done, my boy, just as good as done. Shake hands. We’ll hitch teams together, you and I, and we’ll make things hum!”

CHAPTER III.

       Table of Contents

      Mrs. Sellers returned, now, with her composure restored, and began to ask after Hawkins’s wife, and about his children, and the number of them, and so on, and her examination of the witness resulted in a circumstantial history of the family’s ups and downs and driftings to and fro in the far West during the previous fifteen years. There was a message, now, from out back, and Colonel Sellers went out there in answer to it. Hawkins took this opportunity to ask how the world had been using the Colonel during the past half-generation.

      “Oh, it’s been using him just the same; it couldn’t change its way of using him if it wanted to, for he wouldn’t let it.”

      “I can easily believe that, Mrs. Sellers.”

      “Yes, you see, he doesn’t change, himself—not the least little bit in the world—he’s always Mulberry Sellers.”

      “I can see that plain enough.”

      “Just the same old scheming, generous, good-hearted, moonshiny, hopeful, no-account failure he always was, and still everybody likes him just as well as if he was the shiningest success.”

      “They always did: and it was natural, because he was so obliging and accommodating, and had something about him that made it kind of easy to ask help of him, or favors—you didn’t feel shy, you know, or have that wish—you—didn’t—have—to—try feeling that you have with other people.”

      “It’s just so, yet; and a body wonders at it, too, because he’s been shamefully treated, many times, by people that had used him

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