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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e600d3c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #67154 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/67154) diff --git a/old/67154-0.txt b/old/67154-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index e90095b..0000000 --- a/old/67154-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,758 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Laugh Maker, by James Oliver Curwood - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Laugh Maker - -Author: James Oliver Curwood - -Illustrator: Gayle Hoskins - -Release Date: January 13, 2022 [eBook #67154] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAUGH MAKER *** - - - The Laugh Maker - - by JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD - Author of “The Blind God,” etc. - - ILLUSTRATED BY GAYLE HOSKINS - - -You can laugh too much. You can be too cheerful. You can look too much -on the sunny side of life. You wont believe this and neither did Bobby -McTabb. But McTabb proved it out. It took the girl to help him—Kitty -Duchene was her name—tall and sweet to look upon, with those pure blue -eyes, dark with the beauty of violets, that go so well with hair which -is brown in the shadow and gold in the sun. They proved it out -together, all of a sudden. It is their story. And it will never be -believed. But it’s the truth. - -Bobby McTabb was born fat. He weighed fourteen pounds at the start—and -kept going. He doubled up his avoirdupois at the end of the tenth -month, was a fraternity joke at college in his twentieth year, and -made the scales groan under two hundred and eighty pounds at the end -of his thirtieth—when he came to Fawcettville. But don’t let these -facts prejudice you against Bobby McTabb. At least don’t let them give -you a wrong steer. For Bobby McTabb, in spite of his fat, was a live -one. Fawcettville woke up the day he arrived and began to scrape off -the age-old moss from round the hubs of its village institutions. For -rumor had preceded Bobby McTabb. It endowed him with immense wealth. -He was going to boom Fawcettville. The oldest inhabitants gathered in -groups and discussed possibilities, while their sons and younger -relations worked in the hay and wheat fields. Some believed a railroad -was coming that way. Others that a big factory, like those in the -cities, was to be built. A few smelled oil, and Bobby McTabb’s first -appearance gave weight to every dream that had been dreamed. The -villagers had never seen anything like him, from his patent leather -shoes and his gaudily striped waistcoat to his round, rosy, laughing -face. He was so fat that he appeared to be short, though he was above -medium height, and everyone agreed at first glance that no soul less -than that of a millionaire could possibly abide within this earthly -tabernacle that disclosed itself to their eyes. But Bobby McTabb -quickly set all rumors at rest. He had come to found a bank—the first -bank in Fawcettville. At that minute he had just one hundred and -twenty-seven dollars in his pocket. But he said nothing of that. - -How Bobby McTabb started his bank has nothing to do with this story. -But he did it—inside of a week, and prospered. The first part of the -story is how he won Confidence—and met the girl. It was his fat, and -his round, rosy, laughing face that counted. Within a month all the -men liked him, the children loved him, and mothers and daughters were -ready to trust him with anything. And never for an instant did Bobby -betray one of their trusts. He was lovable from the boots up, and grew -fatter in his prosperity as the months rolled by. He discarded his -gaudy attire, and did as the other Romans did—wore a broad-brimmed -“haying” hat in summer, “wash shirts,” and seamless trousers. He -joined the village church, was elected Sunday-school superintendent -without a dissenting vote, and was soon the heart and soul of every -country rollicking-bee for miles around. Bobby woke up every morning -with a laugh in his soul and a smile on his boyish face, and he -carried that smile and laugh about with him through every hour of the -day. He was happy. Everywhere he preached the gospel of happiness and -optimism. If your heart was sick with a heavy burden it would lighten -the moment you heard his laugh. And it was a glum face that wouldn’t -break into a smile when it met Bobby McTabb’s coming round the corner. - -It was at the end of his second year that Bobby met Kitty Duchene. -What sweet-eyed, blue-eyed Kitty might not have done with him -Fawcettville will never know. She liked him. She would have loved him, -and married him, if he hadn’t been so fat. Anyway, grief didn’t settle -very heavily upon those ponderous shoulders of B. McTabb. He never -laughed a laugh less, and he didn’t stop for a minute in making other -people laugh. It was his hobby, and all the women in the world -couldn’t have broken it. “Make your neighbors laugh and you shall -inherit the Kingdom of Heaven,” he used to say. “Drive out worry and -care and you are clubbing the devil.” And so it came to pass that by -the time he had spent three years in Fawcettville, Bobby McTabb was -greater in his community than the governor of the state or the -president of the nation. And this was the condition of affairs toward -which Bobby had been planning. - -And then, one morning, he was missing. - -When the odds and ends of things had been counted out, and various -columns checked up, it was found that just a hundred and forty -thousand dollars had gone with Bobby McTabb. - - - II - -It was the third of July that Bobby shook the dust of Fawcettville -from his feet. So he had the third, and all day the fourth, which was -a holiday, in which to get a good start. - -Bobby was original, even in robbing a bank. In fact, this is not so -much the story of a bank pillage as it is of Bobby’s originality. -Europe, Monte Carlo, and Cape Town played as small parts in his plans -as did Timbuctoo and Zanzibar. He loved his own people too well to go -very far away from them. So he went to Duluth, where a launch was -waiting for him. On the Fourth of July he set out alone along the -northern shore up Superior, which is unbroken wilderness from Duluth -to Fort William. Three days later a fisherman found McTabb’s boat -wrecked among the rocks, and on the shore near the launch were Bobby’s -coat and hat, sodden and pathetic. Of course there were cards and -letters in the pockets of that coat, and also a roll of small bills. -So identification was easy. Close on the lurid newspaper tales of -Bobby McTabb’s defalcation followed the still more thrilling story of -his death. And, meanwhile, Bobby thought this the best joke of his -life, and with a kit of supplies on his back was hiking straight North -into the big timber. - -The joke lived until about ten o’clock in the morning of the first -day, when the whole affair began to appear a little less clever to -Bobby McTabb. It was hot, and not one decent half-mile of travel did -Bobby find. Up and down ridges of broken rock, through tangled swamps -and forests of spruce and cedar he went, hitting it as straight north -as a tenderfoot could make it by compass. The water poured down his -round, red face, wet his collar first, and gradually soaked him to the -tips of his toes. But it was not the heat that troubled him most. He -was fat and succulent, as tender as a young chicken, and the black -flies gathered from miles around to feast upon him. By noon his face -was swollen until he could hardly see. His nose was like a bulb; his -feet were blistered; a thousand bones and joints that he had never -supposed were in the human anatomy began to ache, and for the first -time in his life his jolly heart went _loco_, and he began to swear. -The railroad was forty miles north. He had planned to reach that, and -follow it to some small station, whence he would take a train into the -new mining country that was just opening up, westward. It was a -terrible forty miles. He would look at his compass, strike out -confidently toward the North Pole, and five minutes later discover -that he was traveling east or west. Early in the afternoon he got into -a swamp of caribou moss that was like a spring bed, three feet thick, -under his feet. It held him up nicely for a time, and the softness of -it was as balm to his sore feet. Then he came to a place where a -caribou would have sniffed, and turned back. But B. McTabb went on—and -in. He went in—first to his knees, then to his middle, then to his -neck, and by the time he had wallowed himself to the safety of firmer -footing there was not a spot of him that was not covered with black -mud. At two o’clock Bobby McTabb struck firm ground. He believed that -he had traveled thirty-nine miles. But he made up his mind that he -would camp, and make the last mile in the cool of the morning. As a -matter of fact the lake was only six miles behind him. - -When Bobby awoke on the morning of the second day he was so stiff that -he waddled and so sore that he groaned aloud, and then he made the -discovery—the alarming discovery—that was the beginning of the making -of a new man of him. His rubber grub-bag was torn to shreds, and what -was left of his provisions could have been gathered into a salt -cellar. All about the front of his tent were tracks as big as a hat, -and though he had never seen tracks like those before he knew that -they were the visiting cards of a very big and a very hungry bear. “My -Gawd!” said B. McTabb. “My Gawd!” he repeated over and over again, -when he found nothing but crumbs and a bacon string. - -Then he reflected that the railroad must be but a short distance away, -and that he would surely strike some habitation or town before -dinner-time. His shoulders were sore, so he left his tent behind him, -stopping every time he came to a saskatoon tree or a clump of wild -raspberries. The fruit did very well for a time, but like many another -tenderfoot before him, he did not learn until too late that the little -red plums, or saskatoons, are as bad as green apples when taken into -an uncultivated stomach. He began to suffer along toward noon. He -suffered all of that day, and far into the night, and when the dawn of -the second day came he was no longer the old Bobby McTabb, but a -half-mad man. For three days after this the black flies fed on him and -the fruit diet ate at his vitals. On the morning of the sixth day he -came to the railroad, nearly blind, bootless, and starving, and was -found by a tie-cutter named Cassidy. For a week he lay in Cassidy’s -cabin, and when at last he came to his feet again, and looked into a -glass, he no longer recognized in himself the tenderly nurtured Bobby -McTabb of Fawcettville. His round face had grown thin. A half-inch -stubble of beard had pierced his chin and rosy cheeks. His eyes were -wild and bloodshot, and there was a looseness in the waist of his -trousers that made him gasp. Three days later he weighed himself at -the little station up the line and found that he had lost sixty -pounds. - -[Illustration: On the morning of the sixth day he came to the -railroad, nearly blind, bootless and starving.] - -From this day on McTabb was a different man. He had relieved himself -of sixty pounds of waste, and the effect was marvelous. A new spirit -had entered into him by the time he reached the mining country. He -prospered—and grew thinner. Unfortunately there is no moral lesson to -this little history of B. McTabb. If he had been an ordinary runaway -cashier he would have been caught and sufficiently punished, and all -the good world would have been warned by his miserable end. But McTabb -was not ordinary. He made money with the savings of Fawcettville. He -made it so fast that it puzzled him at times to keep count of it. He -turned over three claims in the first six months at a profit of a -hundred thousand dollars. This was what optimistic Bobby called a -“starter.” He was in a rough country, and once more he found himself -doing as the Romans did. He worked, and worked hard; he wore heavy -boots and shoe-packs, and the more he worked and the more he prospered -the thinner he grew. - -He was richer each day. Good things came to him like flies to sugar. -At the end of his second year in the new bonanza country he was worth -a million. And this was not all. For B. McTabb was no longer short and -thick. He was tall and thin. From two hundred and eighty he had -dropped to one hundred and sixty pounds, and he was five feet ten and -a half in his cowhide boots. - -But this is not the story of the beginning or the middle of Bobby -McTabb. It is the story of his extraordinary and entirely original -end, and of the manner in which pretty blue-eyed Kitty Duchene helped -to bring that end about. - -McTabb was no longer known by that name. He was J. Wesley Brown, -promoter and mine owner, and as J. Wesley Brown he met Kitty Duchene -once more, in Winnipeg. Kitty was visiting a friend whose father had -joined McTabb in a promoting scheme, and all of Bobby’s old love -returned to him, for in reality it had never died. The one thing that -had been missing in his life was Kitty Duchene, and now he began to -court her again as J. Wesley Brown. There was nothing about J. Wesley -Brown that would remind one of B. McTabb, and of course Kitty did not -recognize him. One day Bobby looked deep into Kitty’s pure blue eyes -and told her how much he loved her, and Kitty dropped her head a -little forward, so that he could see nothing but the sheen of her -gold-brown hair, and promised to be his wife. - -[Illustration: Kitty dropped her head and promised to be his wife.] - -From this day on more and more of the old Bobby began to show in J. -Wesley Brown. He was the happiest man in the North. His old laugh came -back, full and round and joyous. He often caught himself whistling the -old tunes, telling the old stories, and cracking the old jokes that -had made Fawcettville love him. One evening when he was waiting for -Kitty, he whistled softly the tune to “Sweet Molly Malone” and when -Kitty came quietly into the room her blue eyes searched his -questioningly, and there was a gentleness in them which made him -understand that the old song had gone straight home, for it was Kitty -Duchene herself who had taught him the melody, years and years ago, it -seemed. She had told him a great deal about Fawcettville, its green -hills and its meadows, its ancient orchards and the great “bottoms,” -yellow and black with ox-eyed daisies. And tonight she said, with her -pretty face very close to his: “I want to live back in the old home, -Jim. Do you love me enough for that?” - -The thrill in her voice, the soft touch of her hand, stirred Bobby’s -soul until it rose above all fear, and he promised. He would go back. -But—what might happen then? Could he always live as J. Wesley Brown? -Would no one ever recognize him? Trouble began to seat itself in his -eyes. Misgivings began to fill him. And then, in one great dynamic -explosion, the world was shattered about Bobby McTabb’s ears. - -He had taken Kitty to a carnival, and like two children they were -stumbling through a “House of Mystery,” losing themselves in its -mazes, laughing until the tears glistened in Kitty’s happy eyes, when -they ran up against two mirrors. One of these made tall and thin -people short and fat, and the other made short and fat people tall and -thin. Before one of these stepped B. McTabb. For a moment he stood -there stunned and helpless. Then he gave a sudden quick gasp and faced -Kitty. There was no laughter now in the girl’s eyes, but a look of -horror and understanding. In that hapless moment Bobby’s leanness was -gone. He was the old Bobby again, short and ludicrously fat. The girl -drew back, her breath breaking in sobbing agony. - -“Robert,” she cried accusingly. “Robert McTabb!” - -She drew still farther away from him, and hopelessly he reached out -his arms. - -“Kitty—My God, let me explain,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand—” - -But she was going from him, and he did not follow. - - - III - -Now there were three things which might have happened to Bobby McTabb. -In all justice Kitty should have immediately reported him to the -authorities, but she loved him too much for that, and was too loyal to -herself ever to see him again. Or, in the despair and hopelessness of -the situation, Bobby might have paid penance by drowning himself or -hanging himself. There was one other alternative—flight. But, as we -have stated, Bobby was an original thief, and he did just what no -other thief would have thought of doing. - -He turned his properties into cash as quickly as he could, and bought -a ticket for Fawcettville. He arrived in the village on a late night -train, as he had planned. The place was deserted. People were asleep. -With a big throb at his heart he saw that the building which he had -once occupied was empty. It was just as he had left it on that third -of July morning. Something rose in his throat and choked him as he -turned away. After all he loved Fawcettville—loved it more than any -other place on earth, and the tears came into his eyes as he passed -reverently the old familiar spots, and came at last to Kitty Duchene’s -home, with the maples whispering mournfully above him. He almost -sobbed aloud when he saw a light in Kitty’s window. For a long time he -sat under the maples, until the light went out and he could no longer -see Kitty’s shadow against the curtain. All about him were the homes -of the people who had loved and trusted him, and he groaned aloud as -he turned back. - -No one in Fawcettville knew of Bobby McTabb’s visit that night. No one -in the world knew of the scheme which Bobby carried away with him. On -the second day the owner of the bank building received a letter, -signed by a stranger, asking him to clean and repair the old building, -and enclosing an one-hundred dollar bill for the first quarter’s rent. -It was twice the rent Bobby McTabb had paid in the old days, and the -mystery became the talk of the village. - -Bobby came again on the late night train, got off at Henderson, three -miles west of Fawcettville, and drove over in a rig. The rig was -heavily laden with various things, but chiefly with a big gilt and -gold lettered sign, such as Fawcettville had never known. There were a -few who heard the driving of the midnight nails in that sign as it was -hung over the new building. After that two men went through the -village, as stealthily as thieves, and on every barn and store, and -even on the fronts of houses, were pasted bills two feet square; and -at dawn other messengers began delivering sealed letters to the -farmers for miles around. - -The first bright rays of the morning sun lighted up the gilt and gold -letters on Bobby’s sign, and those letters read: - - ROBERT McTABB - Loans, Real Estate and Insurance - -Sile Jenks, the milkman, was the first to read the bill in front of -his house, and with a wild yell he began awakening his neighbors. -Inside of half an hour Fawcettville was in an uproar. Men and women -came hurrying toward the old bank building, and in front of that -building, with a happy smile on his face, stood Bobby McTabb. Men -rushed up to him and wrung his hands until it seemed as though they -must pull out his arms; women crowded through to his side; children -shouted out his old name; the dogs barked in the old way—he heard the -old laughter, the old voices, the old greetings—even deeper and more -affectionate now; and then there came the first rigs from the country, -followed by others, until they streamed in from all sides, just as -they do when a circus comes to town. For three hours Bobby stood up -manfully, and then the climax came; for straight up to him, with -glorious, shining eyes and love in her face, came Kitty Duchene. She -paid no attention to those about them, but put her arms up about -Bobby’s neck and kissed him. - -“NOW I understand,” she whispered, looking at him proudly. “But why -didn’t you tell me—up there, Robert?” - -And for the first time in his life Bobby McTabb’s voice choked him -until he could not speak. - -This was what the people of Fawcettville and the country round had -read on Bobby’s bills and in his letters: - - Dear old friends— - - You will remember one summer day, nearly five years ago, - when I came into your town—Bobby McTabb. I was without - friends, without introductions, without money—but you will - remember, too, how you received me with open arms, and for - two years made life for me here happier than any life that - I had ever dreamed might exist for me. You made me love - you, as I would have loved my father, my mother, my - sister; and I schemed and schemed to think of some way in - which I could repay you. At last the time came. I saw an - opportunity of making a great deal of money, but to make - that money I required a large sum in cash. I believe that - most of you would have responded to my call for that - cash—but, perhaps foolishly, I had the childish desire TO - SURPRISE YOU. So I went away and took your money with me. - I have realized, since then, that the joke was not a good - one—but never for an instant have I believed that you - would lose confidence in me. - - Dear old friends, what I went away to achieve I HAVE - achieved, and my heart is near bursting with joy at the - knowledge that once more I am to be one of you—until the - end of life. Friends, I took with me just one hundred and - forty thousand dollars of your money, and I have brought - you back just six dollars for every one that you have - loaned me during that time. Is this work well done? Is it, - at last, a proof of the deep love and reverence I hold for - you all? I have the money in cash, and every depositor of - the old bank, when he calls upon me, will receive just - seven dollars in place of every dollar he had deposited. - - But it is not money, but love, that counts, dear friends, - and I ask that you measure me—not by the gift I am making - to Fawcettville—but in that almost immeasurable devotion - which I hold for you all. - - Affectionately, - Bobby McTabb. - - -[Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in the April, 1912 issue of -The Red Book Magazine.] - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAUGH MAKER *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online -at <a href="https://www.gutenberg.org">www.gutenberg.org</a>. If you -are not located in the United States, you will have to check the laws of the -country where you are located before using this eBook. -</div> - -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:1em; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Title: The Laugh Maker</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Author: James Oliver Curwood</p> -<p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em'>Illustrator: Gayle Hoskins</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Release Date: January 13, 2022 [eBook #67154]</p> -<p style='display:block; text-indent:0; margin:1em 0'>Language: English</p> - <p style='display:block; margin-top:1em; margin-bottom:0; margin-left:2em; text-indent:-2em; text-align:left'>Produced by: Roger Frank and Sue Clark</p> -<div style='margin-top:2em; margin-bottom:4em'>*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAUGH MAKER ***</div> -<div class='ce'> -<h1 style='margin-bottom:0.7em;'>The Laugh Maker </h1> -<div style='margin-bottom:0.2em;'>by JAMES OLIVER CURWOOD </div> -<div style='font-size:0.9em;margin-bottom:1em;'>Author of “The Blind God,” etc. </div> -<div style='font-size:0.8em;margin-bottom:2em;'>ILLUSTRATED BY GAYLE HOSKINS </div> -</div> -<p>You can laugh too much. You can be too cheerful. You can look too much -on the sunny side of life. You wont believe this and neither did Bobby -McTabb. But McTabb proved it out. It took the girl to help him—Kitty -Duchene was her name—tall and sweet to look upon, with those pure blue -eyes, dark with the beauty of violets, that go so well with hair which -is brown in the shadow and gold in the sun. They proved it out -together, all of a sudden. It is their story. And it will never be -believed. But it’s the truth.</p> - -<p>Bobby McTabb was born fat. He weighed fourteen pounds at the start—and -kept going. He doubled up his avoirdupois at the end of the tenth -month, was a fraternity joke at college in his twentieth year, and -made the scales groan under two hundred and eighty pounds at the end -of his thirtieth—when he came to Fawcettville. But don’t let these -facts prejudice you against Bobby McTabb. At least don’t let them give -you a wrong steer. For Bobby McTabb, in spite of his fat, was a live -one. Fawcettville woke up the day he arrived and began to scrape off -the age-old moss from round the hubs of its village institutions. For -rumor had preceded Bobby McTabb. It endowed him with immense wealth. -He was going to boom Fawcettville. The oldest inhabitants gathered in -groups and discussed possibilities, while their sons and younger -relations worked in the hay and wheat fields. Some believed a railroad -was coming that way. Others that a big factory, like those in the -cities, was to be built. A few smelled oil, and Bobby McTabb’s first -appearance gave weight to every dream that had been dreamed. The -villagers had never seen anything like him, from his patent leather -shoes and his gaudily striped waistcoat to his round, rosy, laughing -face. He was so fat that he appeared to be short, though he was above -medium height, and everyone agreed at first glance that no soul less -than that of a millionaire could possibly abide within this earthly -tabernacle that disclosed itself to their eyes. But Bobby McTabb -quickly set all rumors at rest. He had come to found a bank—the first -bank in Fawcettville. At that minute he had just one hundred and -twenty-seven dollars in his pocket. But he said nothing of that.</p> - -<p>How Bobby McTabb started his bank has nothing to do with this story. -But he did it—inside of a week, and prospered. The first part of the -story is how he won <span style='font-variant:small-caps'>Confidence</span>—and met the girl. It was his fat, and -his round, rosy, laughing face that counted. Within a month all the -men liked him, the children loved him, and mothers and daughters were -ready to trust him with anything. And never for an instant did Bobby -betray one of their trusts. He was lovable from the boots up, and grew -fatter in his prosperity as the months rolled by. He discarded his -gaudy attire, and did as the other Romans did—wore a broad-brimmed -“haying” hat in summer, “wash shirts,” and seamless trousers. He -joined the village church, was elected Sunday-school superintendent -without a dissenting vote, and was soon the heart and soul of every -country rollicking-bee for miles around. Bobby woke up every morning -with a laugh in his soul and a smile on his boyish face, and he -carried that smile and laugh about with him through every hour of the -day. He was happy. Everywhere he preached the gospel of happiness and -optimism. If your heart was sick with a heavy burden it would lighten -the moment you heard his laugh. And it was a glum face that wouldn’t -break into a smile when it met Bobby McTabb’s coming round the corner.</p> - -<p>It was at the end of his second year that Bobby met Kitty Duchene. -What sweet-eyed, blue-eyed Kitty might not have done with him -Fawcettville will never know. She liked him. She would have loved him, -and married him, if he hadn’t been so fat. Anyway, grief didn’t settle -very heavily upon those ponderous shoulders of B. McTabb. He never -laughed a laugh less, and he didn’t stop for a minute in making other -people laugh. It was his hobby, and all the women in the world -couldn’t have broken it. “Make your neighbors laugh and you shall -inherit the Kingdom of Heaven,” he used to say. “Drive out worry and -care and you are clubbing the devil.” And so it came to pass that by -the time he had spent three years in Fawcettville, Bobby McTabb was -greater in his community than the governor of the state or the -president of the nation. And this was the condition of affairs toward -which Bobby had been planning.</p> - -<p>And then, one morning, he was missing.</p> - -<p>When the odds and ends of things had been counted out, and various -columns checked up, it was found that just a hundred and forty -thousand dollars had gone with Bobby McTabb.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:0.8em;'>II </div> -</div> -<p>It was the third of July that Bobby shook the dust of Fawcettville -from his feet. So he had the third, and all day the fourth, which was -a holiday, in which to get a good start.</p> - -<p>Bobby was original, even in robbing a bank. In fact, this is not so -much the story of a bank pillage as it is of Bobby’s originality. -Europe, Monte Carlo, and Cape Town played as small parts in his plans -as did Timbuctoo and Zanzibar. He loved his own people too well to go -very far away from them. So he went to Duluth, where a launch was -waiting for him. On the Fourth of July he set out alone along the -northern shore up Superior, which is unbroken wilderness from Duluth -to Fort William. Three days later a fisherman found McTabb’s boat -wrecked among the rocks, and on the shore near the launch were Bobby’s -coat and hat, sodden and pathetic. Of course there were cards and -letters in the pockets of that coat, and also a roll of small bills. -So identification was easy. Close on the lurid newspaper tales of -Bobby McTabb’s defalcation followed the still more thrilling story of -his death. And, meanwhile, Bobby thought this the best joke of his -life, and with a kit of supplies on his back was hiking straight North -into the big timber.</p> - -<p>The joke lived until about ten o’clock in the morning of the first -day, when the whole affair began to appear a little less clever to -Bobby McTabb. It was hot, and not one decent half-mile of travel did -Bobby find. Up and down ridges of broken rock, through tangled swamps -and forests of spruce and cedar he went, hitting it as straight north -as a tenderfoot could make it by compass. The water poured down his -round, red face, wet his collar first, and gradually soaked him to the -tips of his toes. But it was not the heat that troubled him most. He -was fat and succulent, as tender as a young chicken, and the black -flies gathered from miles around to feast upon him. By noon his face -was swollen until he could hardly see. His nose was like a bulb; his -feet were blistered; a thousand bones and joints that he had never -supposed were in the human anatomy began to ache, and for the first -time in his life his jolly heart went <i>loco</i>, and he began to swear. -The railroad was forty miles north. He had planned to reach that, and -follow it to some small station, whence he would take a train into the -new mining country that was just opening up, westward. It was a -terrible forty miles. He would look at his compass, strike out -confidently toward the North Pole, and five minutes later discover -that he was traveling east or west. Early in the afternoon he got into -a swamp of caribou moss that was like a spring bed, three feet thick, -under his feet. It held him up nicely for a time, and the softness of -it was as balm to his sore feet. Then he came to a place where a -caribou would have sniffed, and turned back. But B. McTabb went on—and -in. He went in—first to his knees, then to his middle, then to his -neck, and by the time he had wallowed himself to the safety of firmer -footing there was not a spot of him that was not covered with black -mud. At two o’clock Bobby McTabb struck firm ground. He believed that -he had traveled thirty-nine miles. But he made up his mind that he -would camp, and make the last mile in the cool of the morning. As a -matter of fact the lake was only six miles behind him.</p> - -<p>When Bobby awoke on the morning of the second day he was so stiff that -he waddled and so sore that he groaned aloud, and then he made the -discovery—the alarming discovery—that was the beginning of the making -of a new man of him. His rubber grub-bag was torn to shreds, and what -was left of his provisions could have been gathered into a salt -cellar. All about the front of his tent were tracks as big as a hat, -and though he had never seen tracks like those before he knew that -they were the visiting cards of a very big and a very hungry bear. “My -Gawd!” said B. McTabb. “My Gawd!” he repeated over and over again, -when he found nothing but crumbs and a bacon string.</p> - -<p>Then he reflected that the railroad must be but a short distance away, -and that he would surely strike some habitation or town before -dinner-time. His shoulders were sore, so he left his tent behind him, -stopping every time he came to a saskatoon tree or a clump of wild -raspberries. The fruit did very well for a time, but like many another -tenderfoot before him, he did not learn until too late that the little -red plums, or saskatoons, are as bad as green apples when taken into -an uncultivated stomach. He began to suffer along toward noon. He -suffered all of that day, and far into the night, and when the dawn of -the second day came he was no longer the old Bobby McTabb, but a -half-mad man. For three days after this the black flies fed on him and -the fruit diet ate at his vitals. On the morning of the sixth day he -came to the railroad, nearly blind, bootless, and starving, and was -found by a tie-cutter named Cassidy. For a week he lay in Cassidy’s -cabin, and when at last he came to his feet again, and looked into a -glass, he no longer recognized in himself the tenderly nurtured Bobby -McTabb of Fawcettville. His round face had grown thin. A half-inch -stubble of beard had pierced his chin and rosy cheeks. His eyes were -wild and bloodshot, and there was a looseness in the waist of his -trousers that made him gasp. Three days later he weighed himself at -the little station up the line and found that he had lost sixty -pounds.</p> - -<div id='001' class='mt01 mb01 w001'> - <img src='images/illus-001.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>On the morning of the sixth day he came to the railroad, nearly blind, bootless and starving.</p> -</div> -<p>From this day on McTabb was a different man. He had relieved himself -of sixty pounds of waste, and the effect was marvelous. A new spirit -had entered into him by the time he reached the mining country. He -prospered—and grew thinner. Unfortunately there is no moral lesson to -this little history of B. McTabb. If he had been an ordinary runaway -cashier he would have been caught and sufficiently punished, and all -the good world would have been warned by his miserable end. But McTabb -was not ordinary. He made money with the savings of Fawcettville. He -made it so fast that it puzzled him at times to keep count of it. He -turned over three claims in the first six months at a profit of a -hundred thousand dollars. This was what optimistic Bobby called a -“starter.” He was in a rough country, and once more he found himself -doing as the Romans did. He worked, and worked hard; he wore heavy -boots and shoe-packs, and the more he worked and the more he prospered -the thinner he grew.</p> - -<p>He was richer each day. Good things came to him like flies to sugar. -At the end of his second year in the new bonanza country he was worth -a million. And this was not all. For B. McTabb was no longer short and -thick. He was tall and thin. From two hundred and eighty he had -dropped to one hundred and sixty pounds, and he was five feet ten and -a half in his cowhide boots.</p> - -<p>But this is not the story of the beginning or the middle of Bobby -McTabb. It is the story of his extraordinary and entirely original -end, and of the manner in which pretty blue-eyed Kitty Duchene helped -to bring that end about.</p> - -<p>McTabb was no longer known by that name. He was J. Wesley Brown, -promoter and mine owner, and as J. Wesley Brown he met Kitty Duchene -once more, in Winnipeg. Kitty was visiting a friend whose father had -joined McTabb in a promoting scheme, and all of Bobby’s old love -returned to him, for in reality it had never died. The one thing that -had been missing in his life was Kitty Duchene, and now he began to -court her again as J. Wesley Brown. There was nothing about J. Wesley -Brown that would remind one of B. McTabb, and of course Kitty did not -recognize him. One day Bobby looked deep into Kitty’s pure blue eyes -and told her how much he loved her, and Kitty dropped her head a -little forward, so that he could see nothing but the sheen of her -gold-brown hair, and promised to be his wife.</p> - -<div id='002' class='mt01 mb01 w002'> - <img src='images/illus-002.jpg' alt='' style='width:100%' /> -<p class='caption'>Kitty dropped her head and promised to be his wife.</p> -</div> -<p>From this day on more and more of the old Bobby began to show in J. -Wesley Brown. He was the happiest man in the North. His old laugh came -back, full and round and joyous. He often caught himself whistling the -old tunes, telling the old stories, and cracking the old jokes that -had made Fawcettville love him. One evening when he was waiting for -Kitty, he whistled softly the tune to “Sweet Molly Malone” and when -Kitty came quietly into the room her blue eyes searched his -questioningly, and there was a gentleness in them which made him -understand that the old song had gone straight home, for it was Kitty -Duchene herself who had taught him the melody, years and years ago, it -seemed. She had told him a great deal about Fawcettville, its green -hills and its meadows, its ancient orchards and the great “bottoms,” -yellow and black with ox-eyed daisies. And tonight she said, with her -pretty face very close to his: “I want to live back in the old home, -Jim. Do you love me enough for that?”</p> - -<p>The thrill in her voice, the soft touch of her hand, stirred Bobby’s -soul until it rose above all fear, and he promised. He would go back. -But—what might happen then? Could he always live as J. Wesley Brown? -Would no one ever recognize him? Trouble began to seat itself in his -eyes. Misgivings began to fill him. And then, in one great dynamic -explosion, the world was shattered about Bobby McTabb’s ears.</p> - -<p>He had taken Kitty to a carnival, and like two children they were -stumbling through a “House of Mystery,” losing themselves in its -mazes, laughing until the tears glistened in Kitty’s happy eyes, when -they ran up against two mirrors. One of these made tall and thin -people short and fat, and the other made short and fat people tall and -thin. Before one of these stepped B. McTabb. For a moment he stood -there stunned and helpless. Then he gave a sudden quick gasp and faced -Kitty. There was no laughter now in the girl’s eyes, but a look of -horror and understanding. In that hapless moment Bobby’s leanness was -gone. He was the old Bobby again, short and ludicrously fat. The girl -drew back, her breath breaking in sobbing agony.</p> - -<p>“Robert,” she cried accusingly. “Robert McTabb!”</p> - -<p>She drew still farther away from him, and hopelessly he reached out -his arms.</p> - -<p>“Kitty—My God, let me explain,” he pleaded. “You don’t understand—”</p> - -<p>But she was going from him, and he did not follow.</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div style='margin-top:1.5em;margin-bottom:0.8em;'>III </div> -</div> -<p>Now there were three things which might have happened to Bobby McTabb. -In all justice Kitty should have immediately reported him to the -authorities, but she loved him too much for that, and was too loyal to -herself ever to see him again. Or, in the despair and hopelessness of -the situation, Bobby might have paid penance by drowning himself or -hanging himself. There was one other alternative—flight. But, as we -have stated, Bobby was an original thief, and he did just what no -other thief would have thought of doing.</p> - -<p>He turned his properties into cash as quickly as he could, and bought -a ticket for Fawcettville. He arrived in the village on a late night -train, as he had planned. The place was deserted. People were asleep. -With a big throb at his heart he saw that the building which he had -once occupied was empty. It was just as he had left it on that third -of July morning. Something rose in his throat and choked him as he -turned away. After all he loved Fawcettville—loved it more than any -other place on earth, and the tears came into his eyes as he passed -reverently the old familiar spots, and came at last to Kitty Duchene’s -home, with the maples whispering mournfully above him. He almost -sobbed aloud when he saw a light in Kitty’s window. For a long time he -sat under the maples, until the light went out and he could no longer -see Kitty’s shadow against the curtain. All about him were the homes -of the people who had loved and trusted him, and he groaned aloud as -he turned back.</p> - -<p>No one in Fawcettville knew of Bobby McTabb’s visit that night. No one -in the world knew of the scheme which Bobby carried away with him. On -the second day the owner of the bank building received a letter, -signed by a stranger, asking him to clean and repair the old building, -and enclosing an one-hundred dollar bill for the first quarter’s rent. -It was twice the rent Bobby McTabb had paid in the old days, and the -mystery became the talk of the village.</p> - -<p>Bobby came again on the late night train, got off at Henderson, three -miles west of Fawcettville, and drove over in a rig. The rig was -heavily laden with various things, but chiefly with a big gilt and -gold lettered sign, such as Fawcettville had never known. There were a -few who heard the driving of the midnight nails in that sign as it was -hung over the new building. After that two men went through the -village, as stealthily as thieves, and on every barn and store, and -even on the fronts of houses, were pasted bills two feet square; and -at dawn other messengers began delivering sealed letters to the -farmers for miles around.</p> - -<p>The first bright rays of the morning sun lighted up the gilt and gold -letters on Bobby’s sign, and those letters read:</p> - -<div class='ce'> -<div>ROBERT McTABB</div> -<div>Loans, Real Estate and Insurance</div> -</div> -<p>Sile Jenks, the milkman, was the first to read the bill in front of -his house, and with a wild yell he began awakening his neighbors. -Inside of half an hour Fawcettville was in an uproar. Men and women -came hurrying toward the old bank building, and in front of that -building, with a happy smile on his face, stood Bobby McTabb. Men -rushed up to him and wrung his hands until it seemed as though they -must pull out his arms; women crowded through to his side; children -shouted out his old name; the dogs barked in the old way—he heard the -old laughter, the old voices, the old greetings—even deeper and more -affectionate now; and then there came the first rigs from the country, -followed by others, until they streamed in from all sides, just as -they do when a circus comes to town. For three hours Bobby stood up -manfully, and then the climax came; for straight up to him, with -glorious, shining eyes and love in her face, came Kitty Duchene. She -paid no attention to those about them, but put her arms up about -Bobby’s neck and kissed him.</p> - -<p>“NOW I understand,” she whispered, looking at him proudly. “But why -didn’t you tell me—up there, Robert?”</p> - -<p>And for the first time in his life Bobby McTabb’s voice choked him -until he could not speak.</p> - -<p>This was what the people of Fawcettville and the country round had -read on Bobby’s bills and in his letters:</p> - -<div style='font-size:0.9em;'> -<blockquote> -<p style='text-indent:0'>Dear old friends—</p> - -<p>You will remember one summer day, nearly five years ago, when I came -into your town—Bobby McTabb. I was without friends, without -introductions, without money—but you will remember, too, how you -received me with open arms, and for two years made life for me here -happier than any life that I had ever dreamed might exist for me. You -made me love you, as I would have loved my father, my mother, my -sister; and I schemed and schemed to think of some way in which I -could repay you. At last the time came. I saw an opportunity of making -a great deal of money, but to make that money I required a large sum -in cash. I believe that most of you would have responded to my call -for that cash—but, perhaps foolishly, I had the childish desire TO -SURPRISE YOU. So I went away and took your money with me. I have -realized, since then, that the joke was not a good one—but never for -an instant have I believed that you would lose confidence in me.</p> - -<p>Dear old friends, what I went away to achieve I HAVE achieved, and my -heart is near bursting with joy at the knowledge that once more I am -to be one of you—until the end of life. Friends, I took with me just -one hundred and forty thousand dollars of your money, and I have -brought you back just six dollars for every one that you have loaned -me during that time. Is this work well done? Is it, at last, a proof -of the deep love and reverence I hold for you all? I have the money in -cash, and every depositor of the old bank, when he calls upon me, will -receive just seven dollars in place of every dollar he had deposited.</p> - -<p>But it is not money, but love, that counts, dear friends, and I ask -that you measure me—not by the gift I am making to Fawcettville—but in -that almost immeasurable devotion which I hold for you all.</p> - -<div style='text-align:right; margin-right:4em;'>Affectionately,</div> -<div style='text-align:right;'>Bobby McTabb.</div> -</blockquote> -</div> -<div class="tn"> - <p style='text-indent:0'>Transcriber’s Note: This story appeared in - the April, 1912 issue of <em>The Red Book Magazine</em>.</p> -</div> -<div style='display:block; margin-top:4em'>*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE LAUGH MAKER ***</div> -<div style='text-align:left'> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Updated editions will replace the previous one—the old editions will -be renamed. -</div> - -<div style='display:block; margin:1em 0'> -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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