to Sparser, but to his employer, was disturbing, almost
irritatingly so. He did not like the idea of taking anything that
belonged to any one else, even for temporary use.
Something might happen. They might be found out.
“Don’t you think it’s dangerous for us to be going out in this
car?” he asked of Ratterer a few days before the trip and
when he fully understood the nature of the source of the car.
“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Ratterer, who being accustomed
to such ideas and devices as this was not much disturbed
by them. “I’m not taking the car and you’re not, are you? If
he wants to take it, that’s his lookout, ain’t it? If he wants
me to go, I’ll go. Why wouldn’t I? All I want is to be brought
back here on time. That’s the only thing that would ever
worry me.”
And Higby, coming up at the moment, had voiced exactly
the same sentiments. Yet Clyde remained troubled. It might
not work out right; he might lose his job through a thing like
this. But so fascinated was he by the thought of riding in
such a fine car with Hortense and with all these other girls
and boys that he could not resist the temptation to go.
Immediately after noon on the Friday of this particular week
the several participants of the outing were gathered at the
points agreed upon. Hegglund, Ratterer, Higby and Clyde at
Eighteenth and West Prospect near the railroad yards.
Maida Axelrod, Hegglund’s girl, Lucille Nickolas, a friend of
Ratterer’s, and Tina Kogel, a friend of Higby’s, also Laura
Sipe, another girl who was brought by Tina Kogel to be
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introduced to Sparser for the occasion, at Twentieth and
Washington. Only since Hortense had sent word at the last
moment to Clyde that she had to go out to her house for
something, and that they were to run out to Forty-ninth and
Genesee, where she lived, they did so, but not without
grumbling.
The day, a late January one, was inclined to be smoky with
lowering clouds, especially within the environs of Kansas
City. It even threatened snow at times—a most interesting
and picturesque prospect to those within. They liked it.
“Oh, gee, I hope it does,” Tina Kogel exclaimed when some
one commented on the possibility, and Lucille Nickolas
added: “Oh, I just love to see it snow at times.” Along the
West Bluff Road, Washington and Second Streets, they
finally made their way across the Hannibal Bridge to
Harlem, and from thence along the winding and hill-
sentineled river road to Randolph Heights and Minaville.
And beyond that came Moseby and Liberty, to and through
which the road bed was better, with interesting glimpses of
small homesteads and the bleak snow-covered hills of
January.
Clyde, who for all his years in Kansas City had never
ventured much beyond Kansas City, Kansas, on the west or
the primitive and natural woods of Swope Park on the east,
nor farther along the Kansas or Missouri Rivers than
Argentine on the one side and Randolph Heights on the
other, was quite fascinated by the idea of travel which
appeared to be suggested by all this—distant travel. It was
all so different from his ordinary routine. And on this
occasion Hortense was inclined to be very genial and
friendly. She snuggled down beside him on the seat, and
when he, noting that the others had already drawn their
girls to them in affectionate embraces, put his arm about
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her and drew her to him, she made no particular protest.
Instead she looked up and said: “I’ll have to take my hat off,
I guess.” The others laughed. There was something about
her quick, crisp way which was amusing at times. Besides
she had done her hair in a new way which made her look
decidedly prettier, and she was anxious to have the others
see it.
“Can we dance anywhere out here?” she called to the
others, without looking around.
“Surest thing you know,” said Higby, who by now had
persuaded Tina Kogel to take her hat off and was holding
her close. “They got a player-piano and a Victrola out there.
If I’d ‘a’ thought, I’d ‘a’ brought my cornet. I can play Dixie
on that.”
The car was speeding at breakneck pace over a snowy
white road and between white fields. In fact, Sparser,
considering himself a master of car manipulation as well as
the real owner of it for the moment, was attempting to see
how fast he could go on such a road.
Dark vignettes of wood went by to right and left. Fields
away, sentinel hills rose and fell like waves. A wide-armed
scarecrow fluttering in the wind, its tall decayed hat awry,
stood near at hand in one place. And from near it a flock of
crows rose and winged direct toward a distant wood lightly
penciled against a foreground of snow.
In the front seat sat Sparser, guiding the car beside Laura
Sipe with the air of one to whom such a magnificent car
was a commonplace thing. He was really more interested in
Hortense, yet felt it incumbent on him, for the time being,
anyhow, to show some attention to Laura Sipe. And not to
be outdone in gallantry by the others, he now put one arm
about Laura Sipe while he guided the car with the other, a
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feat which troubled Clyde, who was still dubious about the
wisdom of taking the car at all. They might all be wrecked
by such fast driving. Hortense was only interested by the
fact that Sparser had obviously manifested his interest in
her; that he had to pay some attention to Laura Sipe
whether he wanted to or not. And when she saw him pull
her to him and asked her grandly if she had done much
automobiling about Kansas City, she merely smiled to
herself.
But Ratterer, noting the move, nudged Lucille Nickolas, and
she in turn nudged Higby, in order to attract his attention to
the affectional development ahead.
“Getting comfortable up front there, Willard?” called
Ratterer, genially, in order to make friends with him.
“I’ll say I am,” replied Sparser, gayly and without turning.
“How about you, girlie?”
“Oh, I’m all right,” Laura Sipe replied.
But Clyde was thinking that of all the girls present none was
really so pretty as Hortense—not nearly. She had come
garbed in a red and black dress with a very dark red poke
bonnet to match. And on her left cheek, just below her
small rouged mouth, she had pasted a minute square of
black court plaster in imitation of some picture beauty she
had seen. In fact, before the outing began, she had been
determined to outshine all the others present, and distinctly
she was now feeling that she was succeeding. And Clyde,
for himself, was agreeing with her.
“You’re the cutest thing here,” whispered Clyde, hugging
her fondly.
“Gee, but you can pour on the molasses, kid, when you
want to,” she called out loud, and the others laughed. And
Clyde flushed slightly.
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Beyond Minaville about six miles the car came to a bend in
a hollow where there was a country store and here
Hegglund, Higby and Ratterer got out to fetch candy,
cigarettes and ice cream cones and ginger ale. And after
that came Liberty, and then several miles this side of
Excelsior Springs, they sighted the Wigwam which was
nothing more than an old two-story farmhouse snuggled
against a rise of ground behind it. There was, however,
adjoining it on one side a newer and larger one-story
addition consisting of the dining-room, the dance floor, and
concealed by a partition at one end, a bar. An open fire
flickered cheerfully here in a large fireplace. Down in a
hollow across the road might be seen the Benton River or
creek, now frozen solid.
“There’s your river,” called Higby cheerfully as he helped
Tina Kogel out of the car, for he was already very much
warmed by several drinks he had taken en route. They all
paused for a moment to admire the stream, winding away
among the trees. “I wanted dis bunch to bring dere skates
and go down dere,” sighed Hegglund, “but dey wouldn’t.
Well, dat’s all right.”
By then Lucille Nickolas, seeing a flicker of flame reflected
in one of the small windows of the inn, called, “Oh, see,
they gotta fire.”
The car was parked, and they all trooped into the inn, and
at once Higby briskly went over and started the large, noisy,
clattery, tinny Nickelodeon with a nickel. And to rival him,
and for a prank, Hegglund ran to the Victrola which stood in
one corner and put on a record of “The Grizzly Bear,” which
he found lying there.
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At the first sounds of this strain, which they all knew, Tina