| OCR Text |
Show I PC a fi II?, iVfi C ) $ Msjyi 1 CS lid mttcjiuJ- '"' V IT WAS my good old &) I J .1 I friend Hans Eickel- fc5 V I raeier, captain of po- i 1 1 1 I lice, who answered J j when Patrolman taiiMK .i-. i Callahan called fe, 4 $ S from a corner "box" M'r' t report that a de- laliMljMllJ ceased horse lay on Kosciusko street, near Robey. Discoveries Discov-eries of that sort must be properly recorded re-corded on slips that are duly sent to the health department, which promptly sends a horse hearse to remove the remains. re-mains. "Valt a minute I get a pencil," said Captain Hans, who got his writing materials ma-terials and returned to the phone. "Vere you say iss that deat horse?" Vrvosciusko street, near Kobey," epeated Callahan. "How you shpell that 'Kosciusko' shtreet?" "K-o K-o K-o-z doggo nod If I know, captain." "Veil, I don't know, neither. And if I don't know how to shpell the shtreet, how can I make out a report?" "I don' know, captain." "Veil drag the deat horse around on Robey shtreet!" That was a typical instance of the anecdotes which had become associated with Captain Hans. He was regarded as a sort of comic supplement to the department. de-partment. - But among the German-Americans German-Americans of the town he was a hero and an idol. Whenever a partisan speaker made mention of the heights to which the children of the vaterland had risen In the big American town he always al-ways included Hans Eickelmeier, and the Teutonic Club itself had subscribed and presented the golden star that he wore on his chunky breast. ' "Unser Hans" (our Hans), they all called him. And they thought him1 a great man and a great policeman. He told them so himself, and he told them in their own language. And the reporters gave him lots of attention, for every time he opened his mouth he spilled a story. He h3 risen to his rank before the ejns of civil service. In his first imination under the new system, when asked what he would do if he saw house-nld house-nld trap'pings insecurely placed on a wjow Bill above the sidewalk level in his clrclct, he replied: "I'd valk on the other side of the , shtreet, so if they fell down they wouldn't hit me on the head." But with all his blundering and blithering, blith-ering, Hans managed to put one over. J wasn't anything original, though it had never been done before to the sam girl Hans won Lena Schreiber. I guess that probably no man is such a consummate simp, or is so fat or so ill-fortuned ill-fortuned by nature, or so poorly endowed above the eyebrows that he cannot somewhere, some-where, somehow, induce one woman to think well enough of him to marry him. Were this not so there would be little need for the birth-control agitation, for heaven knows it's the unending miracle of a.ll times how some of the girls' come to couple up with some of the impossible males who drag them into their caverns. plans, pompous with rank, glorious with station, honored of his own people (and Lcua s). had little difficulty convincing con-vincing her: in fact, she was much obliged to be his wife, and the Schrei-bers Schrei-bers pouted out their chests and assumed as-sumed the airs of the elect after the newspapers had reported the betrothal (and Lena's), had little dillicultv con- man to be married in a police uniform. vincing her: in fact, she was much But that was what Hans wore: and he "You vanfed a car- .-"''"', obliged to be his wife, and the Schrei- would no more have worn any other . 'Ahrt bers pouted out their chests and as- clothes at that gala turnout than he rich. All n0na r; n: j'.,: sumed the airs of the elect after the would have at the head of the parade yoa got a camch!" . :-?.--iJ,2r.i- newspapers had reported the betrothal that day when Goethe s statue was un : :, -.-.fvi J::..-.-- i ' jt "i- 11 r: fJ:--i:: -.',4 . 4 -i;- ; ond bad run photographs of the blond arjd bovine bride-elect. The subtle comedy that went with the paragraphs was lost on the principals and the principal onlookers. Space Was what counted; and the papers gave the item space. Space was what had counted count-ed with Hans, apparently, when he chose Lena, for her displacement was easy to see and worth seeing to the most stras-bismic stras-bismic miopic eye. The wedding was announced for a certain cer-tain Saturday evening at the Germania Turner Halle. The society editors were not assigned to "cover" the event. Hans' friends and Boswells, the police reporters, were ordered or-dered by their editors to do the affair. . But they were instructed to write com- ' prehensive stories, as in millionaire affairs, af-fairs, telling thoroughly everything how the bride and groom were dressed, who attended, all that "came off." Perhaps it is not customary for the groom to "call for" the bride and escort her to the ceremony. But part of the purpose of this story Is to show that Un-. Un-. Ber Hans did things in his own way, and according to his own lights. It isn't "conventional" either for a man to be married in a police uniform. But that was what Hans wore: and he would no more have worn any other clothes at that gala turnout than he would have at the head of the parade that day when Goethe s statue was un veiled. Why, every one expected him to wear it, most of all Lena, So, attired In his service uniform, with its golden star stuck in Its regular spot, his fatigue cap pulled down upon . his fat head, Hans reported promptly at 7:30 at the door of the Schreiber cottage, bobbed in as though to raid the place, and announced In no questionable tones -, that he was on the job. Lena stuck her head:over the balustrade and said she'd be down as soon as her wedding- dress was hooked. The reporters dribbled In and sat In the Schreiber parlor with Hans, who was trying to talk routine police business; busi-ness; but his heart wasn't In It. He didn't even make the usual number of repeatable "bulls." He was excited. Th hour for his marriage was drawing near, and I guess a man has a right to be ex-, ex-, cited at such a time. Several times he stopped twiddling hla braided cap and yelled mightily to the upper regions to know whether Lena had fallen asleep or whether the wedding waa going to be put over for a week. Each time the bride screamed back lovingly that she was hurrying all she could; those things took time, and he must be "Yon vanfed a car rich? All righd you got a camch!" patient. Didn't he want her to look nice? Didn't he? He certainly did. "I bet you the Turner Halle It's crowdet already," he observed. "You know Hans Eickelmeier's redding that draws a crowt. If anything draws a crowt in the Cherman neighborhoot you bet you Hans Eickelmeler'3 vedding it draws a crowt." And still they waited Hans and the reporters. But not in vain. For, down the grand staircase, regallaed in a stiff, new, crack-ly crack-ly white lawn plcnio dress, with long Bleeves and a high neck, and carrying in her right hand, tightly gripped in one cotton glove, a bouquet of artificial peonies, wafted Lena Schreiber. The soap shone on her firm cheeks. Her yellow hair was drawn back and a blue ribbon circled her forehead, a Ja Cleopatra, only less so. Her white lisle stockings were incased in squeaky blue shoes with pink tops. She was radiant. Hans arose and inspected her as though looking over his Irish braves at roll call. . It was satisfactory. Then he walked closer and gave her the intimate up and down as though examining a suspect sus-pect brought in by a dragnet. She bore It bravely and came out In glory the look on the corpulent features of Captain Hans Eickelmeier said so; he was charmed, enraptured. "Veil, now ve go by the halle," he an- nounced, taking in the bride and the reporters re-porters and her relations, and he gallantly gal-lantly grabbed his Lena by the arm and started for the door, as though leading the first division of a traffic parade. But as he started to cross the room a crack of thunder rent' the heavens; a shot of lightning played over the windows; win-dows; a rainstorm of sudden violence and impenetrable density swept out of the inverted bowl and spanked the cement ce-ment walk without as with a million lashes. s "Donnervetter," cried Hans. "The vedding is a bum!" The bride looked thunderstruck. "Oh, Hans whafll we do? What'Il we do?" she moaned. Eickelmeier swept her again with his trained eye. He deduced that if he attempted at-tempted the- four-block walk with her in that outfit in that rain she woxild finish up a wad of drenched pulp. He dropped her arm, shoved his head out of the door and looked up into the merciless storm he saw no comfort there;' it was one of those rains that was good for hours, as anyone can tell when he ?ees one. Hans shook his head. This was ghastly. Here they were, rained in;. and there, n the Turner Halle, were the admirers, ad-mirers, the well wishers, the rooters, the satellites, the social lites. the audience that the historic event associated with his memorable name had drawn. "Oh, why didn't you order a carriage?" car-riage?" moaned Lena. "Carrich? What you mean, carrich? Tou think I'm a millionaire oder something?" some-thing?" barked Hans. "A honest bolice-man bolice-man he ain't got moneys for carrlchea. . Anyvay, I didn't, so vat's the uses you ask me vy didn't I? The kvestion now Is how ve get by that Turner Halle?" This happened before the days of taxis. Carriages were scarce things and hard to find. They were stored in livery stables and undertakers' barns, miles apart. Hans would have opened his heart for the price of one in that crisis, but he didn't know where to get one. So there he stood, the great man frustrated frus-trated by circumstances, Napoleon thwarted in the hour of his greatest triumph-to-be, by a rainstorm. Lena began be-gan to sniffle. Her mother didn't stop at that she broke down and blubbered. The little sister, Henrietta, went even further she squawked. John Hurley, the veteran police re-, porter, dean of his craft, known and acknowledged ac-knowledged the keenest of his calling, stood with the rest. For a few moments he stood. Then he sidled over to Hans, drew him confidentially confiden-tially aside and whispered in his ear. Hans jumped, looked into John's eyes, then suddenly whacked himself on the thigh, crammed his cap far down upon his head and dashed out through the front door. Every one looked amazed. The little sister stopped screaming; the . mother choked a sob midthroat. Lena wiped her nose with the artificial peonies, leaving a little streak of scarlet the only streak of that color in all her make-up, though, let it be fairly recordod and they all turned questioning eyes on Hurley. Hurley said nothing. For five minutes thus they stood, till suddenly they heard coming down the street that familiar sound the call to the running crowd, the signal to the loafer loaf-er to sit up, the despair of the poker player and the fear of the deml monde: the clang, clang,' clang of the patrol wagon. The fine horses dashed to the door, prancing in air, Pal Murphy at the reins. He yanked on the horses' bits and the ' blue wagon swerved perfectly and backed to the door, Its rearward orifice ' now facing the Schreiber homestead, yawning as though for a flock of burlies at a riot call. But It had come on a softer mission. Unser Hans came bounding in and he grandiloquently announced: "You van ted a carrich? AH rlghd . you got a carrich. You got a carrich vat the vife from a ho! iceman she could bo proud to ride In it." And ten minutes later the wagon backed up to the Turner Halle and a thousand were cheering the brjde and the groom. Copyright, 1917, by J. Keelcy |
