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A Call Loan

Short Stories

"Fox-in-the-Morning"

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

Best-Seller

Between Rounds

Bexar Scrip No. 2692

Blind Man's Holiday

Brickdust Row

Buried Treasure

By Courier

Calloway's Code

Caught

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

Dickey

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

Girl

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

Phoebe

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

Ships

Shoes

Sisters of the Golden Circle

Smith

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

Tictocq

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







In those days the cattlemen were the anointed. They were the grandees
of the grass, kings of the kine, lords of the lea, barons of beef and
bone. They might have ridden in golden chariots had their tastes so
inclined. The cattleman was caught in a stampede of dollars. It seemed
to him that he had more money than was decent. But when he had bought
a watch with precious stones set in the case so large that they hurt
his ribs, and a California saddle with silver nails and Angora skin
/suaderos/, and ordered everybody up to the bar for whisky--what else
was there for him to spend money for?

Not so circumscribed in expedient for the reduction of surplus wealth
were those lairds of the lariat who had womenfolk to their name. In
the breast of the rib-sprung sex the genius of purse lightening may
slumber through years of inopportunity, but never, my brothers, does
it become extinct.

So, out of the chaparral came Long Bill Longley from the Bar Circle
Branch on the Frio--a wife-driven man--to taste the urban joys of
success. Something like half a million dollars he had, with an income
steadily increasing.

Long Bill was a graduate of the camp and trail. Luck and thrift, a
cool head, and a telescopic eye for mavericks had raised him from
cowboy to be a cowman. Then came the boom in cattle, and Fortune,
stepping gingerly among the cactus thorns, came and emptied her
cornucopia at the doorstep of the ranch.

In the little frontier city of Chaparosa, Longley built a costly
residence. Here he became a captive, bound to the chariot of social
existence. He was doomed to become a leading citizen. He struggled for
a time like a mustang in his first corral, and then he hung up his
quirt and spurs. Time hung heavily on his hands. He organised the
First National Bank of Chaparosa, and was elected its president.

One day a dyspeptic man, wearing double-magnifying glasses, inserted
an official-looking card between the bars of the cashier's window of
the First National Bank. Five minutes later the bank force was dancing
at the beck and call of a national bank examiner.

This examiner, Mr. J. Edgar Todd, proved to be a thorough one.

At the end of it all the examiner put on his hat, and called the
president, Mr. William R. Longley, into the private office.

"Well, how do you find things?" asked Longley, in his slow, deep
tones. "Any brands in the round-up you didn't like the looks of?"

"The bank checks up all right, Mr. Longley," said Todd; "and I find
your loans in very good shape--with one exception. You are carrying
one very bad bit of paper--one that is so bad that I have been
thinking that you surely do not realise the serious position it places
you in. I refer to a call loan of $10,000 made to Thomas Merwin. Not
only is the amount in excess of the maximum sum the bank can loan any
individual legally, but it is absolutely without endorsement or
security. Thus you have doubly violated the national banking laws, and
have laid yourself open to criminal prosecution by the Government. A
report of the matter to the Comptroller of the Currency--which I am
bound to make--would, I am sure, result in the matter being turned
over to the Department of Justice for action. You see what a serious
thing it is."

Bill Longley was leaning his lengthy, slowly moving frame back in his
swivel chair. His hands were clasped behind his head, and he turned a
little to look the examiner in the face. The examiner was surprised to
see a smile creep about the rugged mouth of the banker, and a kindly
twinkle in his light-blue eyes. If he saw the seriousness of the
affair, it did not show in his countenance.

"Of course, you don't know Tom Merwin," said Longley, almost genially.
"Yes, I know about that loan. It hasn't any security except Tom
Merwin's word. Somehow, I've always found that when a man's word is
good it's the best security there is. Oh, yes, I know the Government
doesn't think so. I guess I'll see Tom about that note."

Mr. Todd's dyspepsia seemed to grow suddenly worse. He looked at the
chaparral banker through his double-magnifying glasses in amazement.

"You see," said Longley, easily explaining the thing away, "Tom heard
of 2000 head of two-year-olds down near Rocky Ford on the Rio Grande
that could be had for $8 a head. I reckon 'twas one of old Leandro
Garcia's outfits that he had smuggled over, and he wanted to make a
quick turn on 'em. Those cattle are worth $15 on the hoof in Kansas
City. Tom knew it and I knew it. He had $6,000, and I let him have
the $10,000 to make the deal with. His brother Ed took 'em on to
market three weeks ago. He ought to be back 'most any day now with the
money. When he comes Tom'll pay that note."

The bank examiner was shocked. It was, perhaps, his duty to step out
to the telegraph office and wire the situation to the Comptroller. But
he did not. He talked pointedly and effectively to Longley for three
minutes. He succeeded in making the banker understand that he stood
upon the border of a catastrophe. And then he offered a tiny loophole
of escape.

"I am going to Hilldale's to-night," he told Longley, "to examine a
bank there. I will pass through Chaparosa on my way back. At twelve
o'clock to-morrow I shall call at this bank. If this loan has been
cleared out of the way by that time it will not be mentioned in my
report. If not--I will have to do my duty."

With that the examiner bowed and departed.

The President of the First National lounged in his chair half an hour
longer, and then he lit a mild cigar, and went over to Tom Merwin's
house. Merwin, a ranchman in brown duck, with a contemplative eye, sat
with his feet upon a table, plaiting a rawhide quirt.

"Tom," said Longley, leaning against the table, "you heard anything
from Ed yet?"

"Not yet," said Merwin, continuing his plaiting. "I guess Ed'll be
along back now in a few days."

"There was a bank examiner," said Longley, "nosing around our place
to-day, and he bucked a sight about that note of yours. You know I
know it's all right, but the thing /is/ against the banking laws. I
was pretty sure you'd have paid it off before the bank was examined
again, but the son-of-a-gun slipped in on us, Tom. Now, I'm short of
cash myself just now, or I'd let you have the money to take it up
with. I've got till twelve o'clock to-morrow, and then I've got to
show the cash in place of that note or--"

"Or what, Bill?" asked Merwin, as Longley hesitated.

"Well, I suppose it means be jumped on with both of Uncle Sam's feet."

"I'll try to raise the money for you on time," said Merwin, interested
in his plaiting.

"All right, Tom," concluded Longley, as he turned toward the door; "I
knew you would if you could."

Merwin threw down his whip and went to the only other bank in town, a
private one, run by Cooper & Craig.

"Cooper," he said, to the partner by that name, "I've got to have
$10,000 to-day or to-morrow. I've got a house and lot there that's
worth about $6,000 and that's all the actual collateral. But I've got
a cattle deal on that's sure to bring me in more than that much profit
within a few days."

Cooper began to cough.

"Now, for God's sake don't say no," said Merwin. "I owe that much
money on a call loan. It's been called, and the man that called it is
a man I've laid on the same blanket with in cow-camps and ranger-camps
for ten years. He can call anything I've got. He can call the blood
out of my veins and it'll come. He's got to have the money. He's in a
devil of a--Well, he needs the money, and I've got to get it for him.
You know my word's good, Cooper."

"No doubt of it," assented Cooper, urbanely, "but I've a partner, you
know. I'm not free in making loans. And even if you had the best
security in your hands, Merwin, we couldn't accommodate you in less
than a week. We're just making a shipment of $15,000 to Myer Brothers
in Rockdell, to buy cotton with. It goes down on the narrow-gauge
to-night. That leaves our cash quite short at present. Sorry we can't
arrange it for you."

Merwin went back to his little bare office and plaited at his quirt
again. About four o'clock in the afternoon he went to the First
National Bank and leaned over the railing of Longley's desk.

"I'll try to get that money for you to-night--I mean to-morrow, Bill."

"All right, Tom," said Longley quietly.

At nine o'clock that night Tom Merwin stepped cautiously out of the
small frame house in which he lived. It was near the edge of the
little town, and few citizens were in the neighbourhood at that hour.
Merwin wore two six-shooters in a belt, and a slouch hat. He moved
swiftly down a lonely street, and then followed the sandy road that
ran parallel to the narrow-gauge track until he reached the water-
tank, two miles below the town. There Tom Merwin stopped, tied a black
silk handkerchief about the lower part of his face, and pulled his hat
down low.

In ten minutes the night train for Rockdell pulled up at the tank,
having come from Chaparosa.

With a gun in each hand Merwin raised himself from behind a clump of
chaparral and started for the engine. But before he had taken three
steps, two long, strong arms clasped him from behind, and he was
lifted from his feet and thrown, face downward upon the grass. There
was a heavy knee pressing against his back, and an iron hand grasping
each of his wrists. He was held thus, like a child, until the engine
had taken water, and until the train had moved, with accelerating
speed, out of sight. Then he was released, and rose to his feet to
face Bill Longley.

"The case never needed to be fixed up this way, Tom," said Longley. "I
saw Cooper this evening, and he told me what you and him talked about.
Then I went down to your house to-night and saw you come out with your
guns on, and I followed you. Let's go back, Tom."

They walked away together, side by side.

"'Twas the only chance I saw," said Merwin presently. "You called your
loan, and I tried to answer you. Now, what'll you do, Bill, if they
sock it to you?"

"What would you have done if they'd socked it to you?" was the answer
Longley made.

"I never thought I'd lay in a bush to stick up a train," remarked
Merwin; "but a call loan's different. A call's a call with me. We've
got twelve hours yet, Bill, before this spy jumps onto you. We've got
to raise them spondulicks somehow. Maybe we can--Great Sam Houston! do
you hear that?"

Merwin broke into a run, and Longley kept with him, hearing only a
rather pleasing whistle somewhere in the night rendering the
lugubrious air of "The Cowboy's Lament."

"It's the only tune he knows," shouted Merwin, as he ran. "I'll bet--"

They were at the door of Merwin's house. He kicked it open and fell
over an old valise lying in the middle of the floor. A sunburned,
firm-jawed youth, stained by travel, lay upon the bed puffing at a
brown cigarette.

"What's the word, Ed?" gasped Merwin.

"So, so," drawled that capable youngster. "Just got in on the 9:30.
Sold the bunch for fifteen, straight. Now, buddy, you want to quit
kickin' a valise around that's got $29,000 in greenbacks in its
in'ards."




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