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The Ransom of Mack

Short Stories


A Bird of Bagdad

A Blackjack Bargainer

A Call Loan

A Chaparral Christmas Gift

A Chaparral Prince

A Comedy in Rubber

A Cosmopolite in a Cafe

A Departmental Case

A Dinner at--------*

A Double-Dyed Deceiver

A Fog in Santone

A Harlem Tragedy

A Lickpenny Lover

A Little Local Colour

A Little Talk about Mobs

A Madison Square Arabian Night

A Matter of Mean Elevation

A Midsummer Knight's Dream

A Midsummer Masquerade

A Municipal Report

A Newspaper Story

A Night in New Arabia

A Philistine in Bohemia

A Poor Rule

A Ramble in Aphasia

A Retrieved Reformation

A Ruler of Men

A Sacrifice Hit

A Service of Love

A Snapshot at the President

A Strange Story

A Technical Error

A Tempered Wind

According to Their Lights

After Twenty Years

An Adjustment of Nature

An Afternoon Miracle

An Apology

An Unfinished Christmas Story

An Unfinished Story

Aristocracy Versus Hash

Art and the Bronco

At Arms With Morpheus

Babes in the Jungle


Between Rounds

Bexar Scrip No. 2692

Blind Man's Holiday

Brickdust Row

Buried Treasure

By Courier

Calloway's Code


Cherchez La Femme

Christmas by Injunction

Compliments of the Season

Confessions of a Humorist

Conscience in Art

Cupid a La Carte

Cupid's Exile Number Two


Dougherty's Eye-Opener

Elsie in New York

Extradited from Bohemia

Fickle Fortune or How Gladys Hustled

Friends in San Rosario

From Each According to His Ability

From the Cabby's Seat

Georgia's Ruling


He Also Serves

Hearts and Crosses

Hearts and Hands

Helping the Other Fellow

Holding Up a Train

Hostages to Momus

Hygeia at the Solito

Innocents of Broadway

Jeff Peters as a Personal Magnet

Jimmy Hayes and Muriel

Law and Order

Let Me Feel Your Pulse

Little Speck in Garnered Fruit

Lord Oakhurst's Curse

Lost on Dress Parade

Madame Bo-Peep, of the Ranches

Makes the Whole World Kin

Mammon and the Archer

Man About Town

Masters of Arts

Memoirs of a Yellow Dog

Modern Rural Sports

Money Maze

Nemesis and the Candy Man

New York by Camp Fire Light

Next to Reading Matter

No Story

October and June

On Behalf of the Management

One Dollar's Worth

One Thousand Dollars

Out of Nazareth

Past One at Rooney's


Proof of the Pudding

Psyche and the Pskyscraper

Queries and Answers

Roads of Destiny

Roses, Ruses and Romance

Rouge et Noir

Round the Circle

Rus in Urbe

Schools and Schools

Seats of the Haughty

Shearing the Wolf



Sisters of the Golden Circle


Sociology in Serge and Straw

Sound and Fury

Springtime a La Carte

Squaring the Circle

Strictly Business

Strictly Business

Suite Homes and Their Romance

Telemachus, Friend

The Admiral

The Adventures of Shamrock Jolnes

The Assessor of Success

The Atavism of John Tom Little Bear

The Badge of Policeman O'Roon

The Brief Debut of Tildy

The Buyer From Cactus City

The Caballero's Way

The Cactus

The Caliph and the Cad

The Caliph, Cupid and the Clock

The Call of the Tame

The Chair of Philanthromathematics

The Champion of the Weather

The Church with an Overshot-Wheel

The City of Dreadful Night

The Clarion Call

The Coming-Out of Maggie

The Complete Life of John Hopkins

The Cop and the Anthem

The Count and the Wedding Guest

The Country of Elusion

The Day Resurgent

The Day We Celebrate

The Defeat of the City

The Detective Detector

The Diamond of Kali

The Discounters of Money

The Dog and the Playlet

The Door of Unrest

The Dream

The Duel

The Duplicity of Hargraves

The Easter of the Soul

The Emancipation of Billy

The Enchanted Kiss

The Enchanted Profile

The Ethics of Pig

The Exact Science of Matrimony

The Ferry of Unfulfilment

The Fifth Wheel

The Flag Paramount

The Fool-Killer

The Foreign Policy of Company 99

The Fourth in Salvador

The Friendly Call

The Furnished Room

The Gift of the Magi

The Girl and the Graft

The Girl and the Habit

The Gold That Glittered

The Greater Coney

The Green Door

The Guardian of the Accolade

The Guilty Party - An East Side Tragedy

The Halberdier of the Little Rheinschloss

The Hand that Riles the World

The Handbook of Hymen

The Harbinger

The Head-Hunter

The Hiding of Black Bill

The Higher Abdication

The Higher Pragmatism

The Hypotheses of Failure

The Indian Summer of Dry Valley Johnson

The Lady Higher Up

The Last Leaf

The Last of the Troubadours

The Lonesome Road

The Lost Blend

The Lotus And The Bottle

The Love-Philtre of Ikey Schoenstein

The Making of a New Yorker

The Man Higher Up

The Marionettes

The Marquis and Miss Sally

The Marry Month of May

The Memento

The Missing Chord

The Moment of Victory

The Octopus Marooned

The Passing of Black Eagle

The Pendulum

The Phonograph and the Graft

The Pimienta Pancakes

The Plutonian Fire

The Poet and the Peasant

The Pride of the Cities

The Princess and the Puma

The Prisoner of Zembla

The Proem

The Purple Dress

The Ransom of Mack

The Ransom of Red Chief

The Rathskeller and the Rose

The Red Roses of Tonia

The Reformation of Calliope

The Remnants of the Code

The Renaissance at Charleroi

The Roads We Take

The Robe of Peace

The Romance of a Busy Broker

The Rose of Dixie

The Rubaiyat of a Scotch Highball

The Rubber Plant's Story

The Shamrock and the Palm

The Shocks of Doom

The Skylight Room

The Sleuths

The Snow Man

The Social Triangle

The Song and the Sergeant

The Sparrows in Madison Square

The Sphinx Apple

The Tale of a Tainted Tenner

The Theory and the Hound

The Thing's the Play

The Third Ingredient

The Trimmed Lamp

The Unknown Quantity

The Unprofitable Servant

The Venturers

The Vitagraphoscope

The Voice of the City

The Whirligig of Life

The World and the Door

Thimble, Thimble


To Him Who Waits

Tobin's Palm

Tommy's Burglar

Tracked to Doom

Transformation of Martin Burney

Transients in Arcadia

Two Recalls

Two Renegades

Two Thanksgiving Day Gentlemen

Ulysses and the Dogman

Vanity and Some Sables

What You Want

While the Auto Waits

Whistling Dick's Christmas Stocking

Witches' Loaves

Me and old Mack Lonsbury, we got out of that Little Hide-and-Seek gold
mine affair with about $40,000 apiece. I say "old" Mack; but he wasn't
old. Forty-one, I should say; but he always seemed old.

"Andy," he says to me, "I'm tired of hustling. You and me have been
working hard together for three years. Say we knock off for a while,
and spend some of this idle money we've coaxed our way."

"The proposition hits me just right," says I. "Let's be nabobs for a
while and see how it feels. What'll we do--take in the Niagara Falls,
or buck at faro?"

"For a good many years," says Mack, "I've thought that if I ever had
extravagant money I'd rent a two-room cabin somewhere, hire a Chinaman
to cook, and sit in my stocking feet and read Buckle's History of

"That sounds self-indulgent and gratifying without vulgar
ostentation," says I; "and I don't see how money could be better
invested. Give me a cuckoo clock and a Sep Winner's Self-Instructor
for the Banjo, and I'll join you."

A week afterwards me and Mack hits this small town of Pina, about
thirty miles out from Denver, and finds an elegant two-room house that
just suits us. We deposited half-a-peck of money in the Pina bank and
shook hands with every one of the 340 citizens in the town. We brought
along the Chinaman and the cuckoo clock and Buckle and the Instructor
with us from Denver; and they made the cabin seem like home at once.

Never believe it when they tell you riches don't bring happiness. If
you could have seen old Mack sitting in his rocking-chair with his
blue-yarn sock feet up in the window and absorbing in that Buckle
stuff through his specs you'd have seen a picture of content that
would have made Rockefeller jealous. And I was learning to pick out
"Old Zip Coon" on the banjo, and the cuckoo was on time with his
remarks, and Ah Sing was messing up the atmosphere with the handsomest
smell of ham and eggs that ever laid the honeysuckle in the shade.
When it got too dark to make out Buckle's nonsense and the notes in
the Instructor, me and Mack would light our pipes and talk about
science and pearl diving and sciatica and Egypt and spelling and fish
and trade-winds and leather and gratitude and eagles, and a lot of
subjects that we'd never had time to explain our sentiments about

One evening Mack spoke up and asked me if I was much apprised in the
habits and policies of women folks.

"Why, yes," says I, in a tone of voice; "I know 'em from Alfred to
Omaha. The feminine nature and similitude," says I, "is as plain to my
sight as the Rocky Mountains is to a blue-eyed burro. I'm onto all
their little side-steps and punctual discrepancies."

"I tell you, Andy," says Mack, with a kind of sigh, "I never had the
least amount of intersection with their predispositions. Maybe I might
have had a proneness in respect to their vicinity, but I never took
the time. I made my own living since I was fourteen; and I never
seemed to get my ratiocinations equipped with the sentiments usually
depicted toward the sect. I sometimes wish I had," says old Mack.

"They're an adverse study," says I, "and adapted to points of view.
Although they vary in rationale, I have found 'em quite often
obviously differing from each other in divergences of contrast."

"It seems to me," goes on Mack, "that a man had better take 'em in and
secure his inspirations of the sect when he's young and so
preordained. I let my chance go by; and I guess I'm too old now to go
hopping into the curriculum."

"Oh, I don't know," I tells him. "Maybe you better credit yourself
with a barrel of money and a lot of emancipation from a quantity of
uncontent. Still, I don't regret my knowledge of 'em," I says. "It
takes a man who understands the symptoms and by-plays of women-folks
to take care of himself in this world."

We stayed on in Pina because we liked the place. Some folks might
enjoy their money with noise and rapture and locomotion; but me and
Mack we had had plenty of turmoils and hotel towels. The people were
friendly; Ah Sing got the swing of the grub we liked; Mack and Buckle
were as thick as two body-snatchers, and I was hitting out a cordial
resemblance to "Buffalo Gals, Can't You Come Out To-night," on the

One day I got a telegram from Speight, the man that was working on a
mine I had an interest in out in New Mexico. I had to go out there;
and I was gone two months. I was anxious to get back to Pina and enjoy
life once more.

When I struck the cabin I nearly fainted. Mack was standing in the
door; and if angels ever wept, I saw no reason why they should be
smiling then.

That man was a spectacle. Yes; he was worse; he was a spyglass; he was
the great telescope in the Lick Observatory. He had on a coat and
shiny shoes and a white vest and a high silk hat; and a geranium as
big as an order of spinach was spiked onto his front. And he was
smirking and warping his face like an infernal storekeeper or a kid
with colic.

"Hello, Andy," says Mack, out of his face. "Glad to see you back.
Things have happened since you went away."

"I know it," says I, "and a sacrilegious sight it is. God never made
you that way, Mack Lonsbury. Why do you scarify His works with this
presumptuous kind of ribaldry?"

"Why, Andy," says he, "they've elected me justice of the peace since
you left."

I looked at Mack close. He was restless and inspired. A justice of the
peace ought to be disconsolate and assuaged.

Just then a young woman passed on the sidewalk; and I saw Mack kind of
half snicker and blush, and then he raised up his hat and smiled and
bowed, and she smiled and bowed, and went on by.

"No hope for you," says I, "if you've got the Mary-Jane infirmity at
your age. I thought it wasn't going to take on you. And patent leather
shoes! All this in two little short months!"

"I'm going to marry the young lady who just passed to-night," says
Mack, in a kind of flutter.

"I forgot something at the post-office," says I, and walked away

I overtook that young woman a hundred yards away. I raised my hat and
told her my name. She was about nineteen; and young for her age. She
blushed, and then looked at me cool, like I was the snow scene from
the "Two Orphans."

"I understand you are to be married to-night," I said.

"Correct," says she. "You got any objections?"

"Listen, sissy," I begins.

"My name is Miss Rebosa Redd," says she in a pained way.

"I know it," says I. "Now, Rebosa, I'm old enough to have owed money
to your father. And that old, specious, dressed-up, garbled, sea-sick
ptomaine prancing about avidiously like an irremediable turkey gobbler
with patent leather shoes on is my best friend. Why did you go and get
him invested in this marriage business?"

"Why, he was the only chance there was," answers Miss Rebosa.

"Nay," says I, giving a sickening look of admiration at her complexion
and style of features; "with your beauty you might pick any kind of a
man. Listen, Rebosa. Old Mack ain't the man you want. He was twenty-
two when you was /nee/ Reed, as the papers say. This bursting into
bloom won't last with him. He's all ventilated with oldness and
rectitude and decay. Old Mack's down with a case of Indian summer. He
overlooked his bet when he was young; and now he's suing Nature for
the interest on the promissory note he took from Cupid instead of the
cash. Rebosa, are you bent on having this marriage occur?"

"Why, sure I am," says she, oscillating the pansies on her hat, "and
so is somebody else, I reckon."

"What time is it to take place?" I asks.

"At six o'clock," says she.

I made up my mind right away what to do. I'd save old Mack if I could.
To have a good, seasoned, ineligible man like that turn chicken for a
girl that hadn't quit eating slate pencils and buttoning in the back
was more than I could look on with easiness.

"Rebosa," says I, earnest, drawing upon my display of knowledge
concerning the feminine intuitions of reason--"ain't there a young man
in Pina--a nice young man that you think a heap of?"

"Yep," says Rebosa, nodding her pansies--"Sure there is! What do you
think! Gracious!"

"Does he like you?" I asks. "How does he stand in the matter?"

"Crazy," says Rebosa. "Ma has to wet down the front steps to keep him
from sitting there all the time. But I guess that'll be all over after
to-night," she winds up with a sigh.

"Rebosa," says I, "you don't really experience any of this adoration
called love for old Mack, do you?"

"Lord! no," says the girl, shaking her head. "I think he's as dry as a
lava bed. The idea!"

"Who is this young man that you like, Rebosa?" I inquires.

"It's Eddie Bayles," says she. "He clerks in Crosby's grocery. But he
don't make but thirty-five a month. Ella Noakes was wild about him

"Old Mack tells me," I says, "that he's going to marry you at six
o'clock this evening."

"That's the time," says she. "It's to be at our house."

"Rebosa," says I, "listen to me. If Eddie Bayles had a thousand
dollars cash--a thousand dollars, mind you, would buy him a store of
his own--if you and Eddie had that much to excuse matrimony on, would
you consent to marry him this evening at five o'clock?"

The girl looks at me a minute; and I can see these inaudible
cogitations going on inside of her, as women will.

"A thousand dollars?" says she. "Of course I would."

"Come on," says I. "We'll go and see Eddie."

We went up to Crosby's store and called Eddie outside. He looked to be
estimable and freckled; and he had chills and fever when I made my

"At five o'clock?" says he, "for a thousand dollars? Please don't wake
me up! Well, you /are/ the rich uncle retired from the spice business
in India! I'll buy out old Crosby and run the store myself."

We went inside and got old man Crosby apart and explained it. I wrote
my check for a thousand dollars and handed it to him. If Eddie and
Rebosa married each other at five he was to turn the money over to

And then I gave 'em my blessing, and went to wander in the wildwood
for a season. I sat on a log and made cogitations on life and old age
and the zodiac and the ways of women and all the disorder that goes
with a lifetime. I passed myself congratulations that I had probably
saved my old friend Mack from his attack of Indian summer. I knew when
he got well of it and shed his infatuation and his patent leather
shoes, he would feel grateful. "To keep old Mack disinvolved," thinks
I, "from relapses like this, is worth more than a thousand dollars."
And most of all I was glad that I'd made a study of women, and wasn't
to be deceived any by their means of conceit and evolution.

It must have been half-past five when I got back home. I stepped in;
and there sat old Mack on the back of his neck in his old clothes with
his blue socks on the window and the History of Civilisation propped
up on his knees.

"This don't look like getting ready for a wedding at six," I says, to
seem innocent.

"Oh," says Mack, reaching for his tobacco, "that was postponed back to
five o'clock. They sent me over a note saying the hour had been
changed. It's all over now. What made you stay away so long, Andy?"

"You heard about the wedding?" I asks.

"I operated it," says he. "I told you I was justice of the peace. The
preacher is off East to visit his folks, and I'm the only one in town
that can perform the dispensations of marriage. I promised Eddie and
Rebosa a month ago I'd marry 'em. He's a busy lad; and he'll have a
grocery of his own some day."

"He will," says I.

"There was lots of women at the wedding," says Mack, smoking up. "But
I didn't seem to get any ideas from 'em. I wish I was informed in the
structure of their attainments like you said you was."

"That was two months ago," says I, reaching up for the banjo.

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