The Real Man   By: Francis Lynde (1856-1930)

BY FRANCIS LYNDE

ILLUSTRATED BY ARTHUR E. BECHER

CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS NEW YORK :::::::::: 1915

COPYRIGHT, 1915, BY CHARLES SCRIBNER'S SONS

Published August, 1915

TO THOSE FRIENDS OF UNACQUAINTANCE AMONG HIS READERS WHO FROM TIME TO TIME EXPRESS, THROUGH THE MEDIUM OF KINDLY AND HEART WARMING LETTERS, THEIR APPRECIATIVE SYMPATHY AND APPROVAL, THIS BOOK IS AFFECTIONATELY INSCRIBED, WITH GRATEFUL ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS FROM THE AUTHOR

[Illustration: There was time only for a mighty heave and shove.]

CONTENTS

I. HOST AND GUEST

II. METASTASIS

III. THE HOBO

IV. THE HIGH HILLS

V. THE SPECIALIST

VI. THE TWIG

VII. A NOTICE TO QUIT

VIII. TIMANYONI DITCH

IX. RELAPSINGS

X. THE SICK PROJECT

XI. WHEN GREEK MEETS GREEK

XII. THE ROCKET AND THE STICK

XIII. THE NARROW WORLD

XIV. A REPRIEVE

XV. "SWEET FORTUNE'S MINION"

XVI. BROKEN THREADS

XVII. A NIGHT OF FIASCOS

XVIII. A CHANCE TO HEDGE

XIX. TWO WOMEN

XX. TUCKER JIBBEY

XXI. AT ANY COST

XXII. THE MEGALOMANIAC

XXIII. THE ARROW TO THE MARK

XXIV. A LITTLE LEAVEN

XXV. THE PACE SETTER

XXVI. THE COLONEL'S "DEFI"

XXVII. TWO WITNESSES

XXVIII. THE STRADDLER

XXIX. THE FLESH POTS OF EGYPT

XXX. A STRONG MAN ARMED

XXXI. A RACE TO THE SWIFT

XXXII. FREEDOM

XXXIII. IN SUNRISE GULCH

ILLUSTRATIONS

There was time only for a mighty heave and shove

In a flash Smith knew what he had done

"Your friends have money, Montague plenty of it"

"Catch him! catch him!" he shrilled. "It's Boogerfield, and he's going to dy dynamite the dam!"

Sketch map of the Timanyoni

[Illustration: Sketch map of the Timanyoni]

THE REAL MAN

I

Host and Guest

It is conceivable that, in Noah's time say, on the day before the heavens opened and the floods descended a complacent citizenry of Antediluvia might have sat out on its front porches, enjoying the sunset over Mount Ararat and speculating upon the probable results of the next patriarchal election, all unsuspicious of chaotic cataclysms. Under similar conditions fair skies, a good groundwork of creature comforts, and a total lack of threatening portents there was no reason why the two men, smoking their after dinner cigars on the terrace of the Lawrenceville Country Club, should suspect that the end of the world might be lying in wait for either of them just beyond the hour's relaxation.

They had been dining together Debritt, a salesman for the Aldenguild Engraving Company of New York and the elder of the two, as the guest, and Smith, cashier of the Lawrenceville Bank and Trust, as the host. After banking hours, Smith had taken the engraving company's salesman in his runabout for a drive through the residence district and up the river road; and business, the business of printing a new issue of stock certificates for the local bank, had been laid aside. The return drive had paused at the Country Club for dinner; and since Debritt's train would not leave until eight o'clock, there was ample leisure for the tobacco burning and for the jocund salesman's appreciative enthusiasm.

"Monty, my son, for solid satisfaction and pure unadulterated enjoyment of the safe and sane variety, you fellows in the little cities have us metropolitans backed off the map," he said, after the cigars were fairly alight. "In New York, believe me, you might be the cashier of a bank the size of the Lawrenceville B. and T. only you wouldn't be at your age for a thousand years and never get a glimpse out over the top of things; never know the people who lived next door to you. Here you know everybody worth knowing, drive your own motor, have more dinner invitations than you can accept, and by and by when you get deliberately good and ready you can marry the prettiest girl in town. Am I right?"