alifor 
 jional 
 ility 
 
 (Collector of Whiskers)
 
 THE LIBRARY 
 
 OF 
 
 THE UNIVERSITY 
 OF CALIFORNIA 
 
 LOS ANGELES
 
 J. ARCHIBALD McKACKNEY 
 
 (Collector of Whiskers)
 
 A beard of rare dimensions that would create the bass 
 of a whole symphony orchestra.
 
 J. ARCHIBALD 
 McKACKNEY 
 
 (Collector of Whiskers) 
 
 Being certain episodes taken from the diary 
 and notes of that estimable gentleman- 
 student and now for the first time set forth. 
 
 EDITED BY 
 
 RALPH D. PAINE 
 
 Author of " The Story of Martin CM" 
 " The Greater America" etc. 
 
 WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY WALLACE MORGAN 
 
 NEW YORK 
 
 THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 MCMVII
 
 Copyrighted, 1907, by 
 THE OUTING PUBLISHING COMPANY 
 
 A II rights reserved
 
 IPs 
 
 PUBLISHER S PREFACE 
 
 THE remarkable researches and discov 
 eries of Mr. J. Archibald McKackney 
 have hitherto been buried in the monographs 
 of the American Society for the Promotion 
 of Curious Science. Mr. McKackney, it may 
 be remarked, is an elderly gentleman of great 
 wealth and an eager mental activity whose 
 estate is one of the show-places of the New 
 England coast. For several years he had been 
 engaged in assembling his unique collection 
 of Human Whiskers before his discovery and 
 employment of their musical vibrations made 
 a world-wide stir among the students of 
 Acoustics and Harmony. 1 
 
 1 For technical references see Annual Reports Am. Soc. P. 
 C. S., Vol. XII., pp. 287-324 (1901) ; Vol. XIV., pp. 103- 
 149 (1903). Also Appendix B. Revised Edition Der Mecha- 
 nismus der Menschlichen Sprache nebst Beschreibnng einer 
 Sprechenden Maschine -von Wolfgang von Kempelen (Vienna). 
 Also latest Edition, Theory of Harmony, Weitzman. 
 
 Also A Critical Analysis of the McKackney Theory of the 
 Analogy between the ^Eolian Harp and the Human Beard or 
 Whisker, (Pamphlet by Dr. Bruno Heilig, published by 
 Leighton & Leighton, London, 1904. 
 
 [vii 
 
 770726
 
 Publisher s Preface 
 
 For the information of the layman it is 
 perhaps well to refer to the circumstances 
 which preceded the organization of the now 
 famous Hirsute Orchestra, as described in 
 the following pages. Having wearied of 
 the more commonplace objects of the col 
 lector s ardor, including Japanese pottery, un 
 set gems and Roman coins, Mr. McKackney 
 turned with the utmost enthusiasm to the task 
 of obtaining the photographs, paintings and 
 drawings of all the styles, patterns, designs 
 and front elevations of the beards, whiskers 
 and mustachios that have ornamented the 
 human face from the days of the ancient 
 Egyptians. 1 
 
 He has visited almost all the inhabited cor- 
 
 1 "My first impulse to ward this field of investigation was in 
 spired as the result of an idle hour in a crowded railway sta 
 tion. I began to note the whiskers of the hurrying pedestri 
 ans and was surprised to discover that their patterns were as 
 severally distinct and individual as the faces of their wearers. 
 I counted no less than seventeen successive types, no two of 
 which were identical in any respect. It occurred to me at 
 that time that if such a wide variety could be found in this 
 casual observation, there must be an opportunity for a scien 
 tific study of these highly entertaining and important human 
 phenomena." (Extract from the owner s Introduction to the 
 Illustrated Catalogue of the McKackney Collection.) 
 
 viii]
 
 Publisher s Preface 
 
 ners of the globe in the hope of adding new 
 trophies to his classified list of one hundred 
 and eighty-seven distinct or catalogued varie 
 ties of whiskers, and the walls of his immense 
 library are covered with bewildering sequences 
 of facial landscapes. 
 
 In selecting the following incidents from 
 among his manifold experiences Mr. McKack- 
 ney has attempted to present only the more 
 popular and entertaining features of his avo 
 cation. He does not introduce, for example, 
 that important phase of his activity which 
 deals with the whisker as a new field for 
 nature study. 1 His more serious and wholly 
 scientific work, " The Whisker Book," will 
 not be ready for publication (in three quarto 
 volumes) before 1909. Its scope and the 
 enthusiasm with which Mr. McKackney has 
 devoted himself to the immense task of writing 
 the final word on the whisker in Art, History 
 and Music, may be glimpsed in these lines of 
 
 1 This topic was ably presented in a paper read before the 
 faculty and students of the University of Zweitzig on the 
 occasion of the bestowal of an honorary degree upon Dr. J. 
 Archibald McKackney. 
 
 Fix
 
 Publisher s Preface 
 
 an address delivered before the American So 
 ciety for the Promotion of Curious Research : 
 " I am proud, gentlemen, to have had the 
 honor of adding, within the last year, no fewer 
 than fourteen new species to the catalogue of 
 my collections. I would rather make two 
 whiskers grow where one grew before than to 
 gain fame in any other way under Heaven. 
 From the steppes of Siberia to the steaming 
 jungles of Madagascar I have hunted whisk 
 ers at peril of life and limb. Among civilized 
 races it is possible that the whisker may be 
 doomed to extinction, since custom ordains 
 that the devastating razor should more and 
 more wreak its handiwork. I hope, however, 
 before it shall be too late, to complete the 
 monumental work which has absorbed my 
 energies for eight long years." 
 
 x]
 
 CONTENTS 
 
 CHAPTER PAGE 
 
 I THE EPISODE OF THE TITIAN BEARD . 3 
 
 II THE PURSUIT OF THE HIRSUTE ORCHESTRA 27 
 
 III THE TRAGEDY OF THE PEASANT S REVENGE 59 
 
 IV THE EPISODE OF THE SENTIMENTAL 
 
 ANARCHIST . . . . * 83 
 
 V THE TALE OF THE WANDERING BOOK-CASE 113 
 
 VI THE TALE OF THE SHIPWRECKED PARENT 139 
 
 VII THE ABDICATION OF KING WILKINS I 161
 
 ILLUSTRATIONS 
 
 A beard of rare dimensions that would create the 
 
 bass of" a whole symphony orchestra . Frontispiece 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "I m looking for a game where they give away 
 
 ham-and-eggs for first prizes" ... 6 
 
 "The magnificent torrent of his beard" . . 1 1 
 
 I was plucked from my chair, and borne toward 
 
 the fire-place " . . . . . 2\ 
 
 " Wilkins smothered an amazed oath, while his 
 
 rugged face was a study of novel emotions " 35 
 
 "Airily twisting the needle-like ends of a rat-tailed 
 
 mustache" . . . . . .45 
 
 " Now a fraction off the bottom. The tone is 
 
 almost perfect" . . . . . 67 
 
 " Wilkins brought the hairy exile home with him " 70 
 
 He was sore about something and ran amuck with 
 
 a big pair of scissors " . 78 
 
 "The coveted stranger had suddenly and violently 
 
 fallen in love " . ... 87 
 
 [xiii
 
 Illustrations 
 
 PAGE 
 
 "Struck a heroic attitude as he shouted " . 98 
 
 "It seemed to rain cans of corned beef, tongue 
 
 and deviled ham" . . . .103 
 
 Snipped a generous handful from the end of the 
 
 captive beard " . . . . 1 1 7 
 
 "The wooden-bottomed chair caught me in the 
 
 small of the back " . . . .129 
 
 "The wretch was crawling toward the box on 
 
 hands and knees " . . . 35 
 
 "A sprightly old man darted into view and ran 
 
 down the gangplank " . . . .143 
 
 Hallelujah, I won by an eighth of an inch " . 147 
 
 "And laugh in his bushy beard till the tears ran 
 
 down into it " . . . . ! 5 5 
 
 Behind him streamed scores of villagers " . 165 
 
 " Uncle Jedediah woke up with a snort" . 173 
 
 " Perhaps he would prefer to work out this problem 
 
 for himself, Mr. J. Archibald McKackney" 177 
 
 xiv]
 
 THE EPISODE OF 
 THE TITIAN BEARD
 
 J. ARCHIBALD McKACKNEY 
 
 (Collector of Whiskers] 
 
 CHAPTER I 
 
 THE EPISODE OF THE TITIAN BEARD 1 
 
 ETE in a bracing autumn afternoon I was 
 playing golf on the links which adjoin 
 my estate. I was alone save for the stimulat 
 ing companionship of Colonel Bogey. While 
 driving for the home green I pulled my shot 
 so disastrously that the ball flew off at a sick 
 ening tangent and vanished in a dense wood 
 land as if the devil were after it. Struggling 
 through the underbrush with somewhat peev 
 ish comment, I headed for the tree against 
 which the ball had struck. It must have 
 caromed wide and far, for the search was 
 bootless. 
 
 1 The owner of the peerless Titian beard, Hank Wilkins, 
 plays so important a part in the subsequent narratives that it 
 seems advisable to preface them with this account of the sin 
 gular manner in which the sailor man became the associate of 
 Mr. McKackney. (Editor s Note.) 
 
 [3
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 I had wandered so far into the strip of 
 woodland that as I paused to mop my face, 
 an opening in the trees showed me a green 
 valley and a hillside of pasture beyond, 
 bounded by low stone walls. A man was 
 moving across the pasture, and so vivid a 
 patch of color gleamed against his dark 
 coat that I waited and watched him with 
 an interested eye. As the distant figure 
 drew nearer I became more puzzled and 
 intent. 
 
 Just then the sinking sun shot a slanting 
 dazzle across the pasture and the dash of 
 vivid crimson on the wayfarer s chest gleamed 
 like a sheet of flame. 
 
 " Good Heavens," I muttered. " It is the 
 man s whiskers ! Nothing so very rare about 
 the pattern but that Titian red! I have tried 
 to find that peculiar shade among the whis 
 kers of three continents. I must have his 
 portrait in color, even if I am compelled to 
 kidnap him. God bless me, but his beard is 
 priceless! Why, I have heard of only one 
 other such specimen, and before I could locate 
 4]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 the owner he carelessly dropped a match in 
 his whiskers, and they were utterly consumed. 
 I wept at the news and am not ashamed of it." 
 
 Without more delay I plunged down the 
 slope, clumsily leaped the brook and crawled 
 over the stone wall of the pasture. The 
 stranger was advancing at a leisurely gait, and 
 as he halted to fill and light his pipe I shiv 
 ered with an apprehension inspired by the rec 
 ollection of the tragic experience which I had 
 just called to mind. My quarry was a middle- 
 aged, stocky person, whose features and gar 
 ments were battered to the edge of the disrepu 
 table. Above his flaming beard emerged a 
 sun-burnt cheek, and beneath his shaggy red 
 brows twinkled a merry and unabashed eye. 
 As we met in the cow-path I remarked as 
 calmly as possible : 
 
 " Pleasant weather, sir." 
 
 The stranger replied in a voice that rum 
 bled from his chest: 
 
 " It s all right for them that can afford to 
 toddle around with them silly little sticks 
 you ve got in that bag. I m lookin for a 
 
 [5
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 "I m looltin for a game where they give away ham-and- 
 eggs for first prizes." 
 
 game where they give away ham-and-eggs for 
 first prizes." 
 
 I hesitated, but the spirit of the collector 
 was rampant and another glance at the peer 
 less sweep of Titian whiskers compelled me to 
 throw prudence to the winds. 
 
 " Will you not do me the honor of coming 
 home to dine with me? " 1 asked. " My little 
 6]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 place is on the other side of the links. It will 
 be a rare pleasure for me, I assure you." 
 
 The bearded one blinked and tugged at his 
 hirsute treasure with his two hands as he cried : 
 
 " What kind of a josh is this? I m noth 
 ing but a stranded seafarin man making his 
 way cross country to Coveport in the hope of 
 finding a berth aboard a coastin vessel. 
 Thanks, but I think your head-piece may need 
 calkin ." 
 
 The upshot of this was that J. Archibald 
 McKackney, a gentleman of some wealth and 
 station, found himself in the odd position of 
 pleading with this derelict wayfarer to come 
 and dine in a mansion. Red Whiskers still 
 eyed me with an air of gloomy misgiving, but 
 at last consented with the frank comment : 
 
 " I must be the lost Charlie Ross, and as 
 for you well, the keeper was lookin the 
 other way when you broke out for an after 
 noon romp." 
 
 Pleased with my success, I sighed as I re 
 flected that with my sanity already impeached 
 it might be extremely difficult to broach the 
 
 [7
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 topic of the whiskers. However, we managed 
 to cross the golf course without more bicker 
 ing until my home loomed ahead, set far 
 back amid a park-like expanse of grounds. 
 The seafaring pilgrim balked in his tracks 
 and shook his head so violently that his beard 
 waggled like a crimson banner in a big wind. 
 
 " I ve heard they stow the rich lunatics in 
 such elegant dry docks as this while their 
 stearin gear is being repaired," he shouted. 
 " But Hank Wilkins don t belong in this 
 gilded bug-house, not by a ding-donged 
 sight." 
 
 The mutiny was suppressed only when a 
 head-gardener and a gate-keeper happened to 
 appear. Their attitude toward me was so sane 
 and respectful and my orders were so intelli 
 gently delivered that the pilgrim gulped down 
 his fears and walked up the rambling path 
 with somewhat nervous tread. In his time 
 Mr. Hank Wilkins must have seen many 
 curious things, but when he was ushered into 
 the library by a liveried footman, his ruddy 
 countenance became positively pale with emo- 
 8]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 tion. I could not help chuckling as I viewed 
 the agitation of my guest. 
 
 " Welcome to my bachelor quarters, Mr. 
 Wilkins," I cried. " Will you have some 
 thing to drink before you go to your room to 
 dress for dinner? " 
 
 " Can a duck swim? " fervently exclaimed 
 Mr. Hank Wilkins. " Rye, if you please, 
 sir, and I begin to think your intellect is get 
 ting its bearings. I never heard a saner speech 
 but all I ve got to do about dressing for 
 dinner is to comb the cockle-burrs out of my 
 whiskers and report all standin ." 
 
 " Yes, your whiskers, of course," I absently 
 murmured. " First in your thoughts, of 
 course. Pardon me yes, you will find your 
 clothes laid out and a man to help you into 
 them." 1 
 
 1 Mr. McKackney being of a spare figure, it would have 
 been impossible for the burly Hank Wilkins to insert himself 
 in evening clothes belonging to his host, even with the aid of 
 a shoe-horn. The butler, however, was a fine, upstanding 
 man, who owed his long tenure of service to the possession 
 of a set of the dignified gray whiskers popularly known as 
 "mud-guards." It is to be presumed that some of his extra 
 raiment was requisitioned. (Editor s Note.) 
 
 [9
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 Mr. Wilkins sputtered and choked as four 
 fingers of aged whisky slid down his dusty 
 throat. Then like one in a dream he rolled 
 in the wake of the footman, nor did I observe 
 at the time that the decanter was still tightly 
 clutched in the fist of my guest. 
 
 It befell, therefore, that while the outer 
 man was being adorned, the inner man was 
 being mightily refreshed. Before the valet 
 swept the crimson beard aside to encircle the 
 bull-neck of Mr. Wilkins with a white tie, the 
 blithe little devils in the decanter had banished 
 all his fears. Beaming, but by no means be 
 fogged, the sailorman returned below stairs, 
 a heroic figure in evening clothes whose daz 
 zling front was wholly eclipsed by the magnifi 
 cent torrent of his beard. I saw him do a 
 few steps of a hornpipe in the hall and bow 
 low before a mirror, but he assumed an im 
 posing dignity of bearing as he joined me in 
 the library. 
 
 " If I don t come out of this pipe-dream 
 soon, and I m to shift myself into these 
 clothes again," said my guest with great em- 
 10]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 "The magnificent torrent of his beard." 
 
 phasis, " I ll chop these whiskers off, so 
 help me." 
 
 " Chop those whiskers off ! " I echoed with 
 a catch in my voice. " My God, Wilkins,
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 don t say that again, I beg of you. Your 
 beard, I I " 
 
 " But they douse my gold buttons and 
 shiny shirt," he protested, and then wish 
 ing to humor me, he added in soothing 
 accents : 
 
 " Now don t get dippy again. You ve been 
 doing well. If you admire my whiskers take 
 em as a gift." 
 
 " Perhaps I ought to explain," I began, just 
 as the butler announced that dinner was 
 served. As the sailor heaved himself out of 
 his chair, his roving eye was drawn to a line 
 of portraits on the opposite wall which dis 
 played some of the choicest specimens of my 
 collections. 
 
 " Oh, look at the oakum-faced sundowners, 
 millions of em," he exclaimed. " I ve fath 
 omed his soft spot. He s gone wrong on 
 whiskers, poor man." 
 
 As Mr. Wilkins lumbered into the din 
 ing room he sonorously chanted the im 
 promptu refrain which was weaving in his 
 brain: 
 
 12]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 " Whiskers short and whiskers long, 
 Whiskers weak and whiskers strong, 
 Why, this is the place where / belong." 
 
 My robustious guest was in a mood even 
 more mellow and melodious after his glass had 
 been thrice filled with champagne, and with 
 his beard parted and flung back over his 
 shoulders like a pair of brilliant sash-curtains 
 he burst into snatches of deep-sea chanties 
 mingled with the original couplet: 
 
 " Where the seas are high and the wind so gay 
 Blows through my whiskers every day." 
 
 At length I was able to stem the tide of 
 convivial song and roaring talk and broached 
 the burning topic at issue: 
 
 " I wish to paint your beard, Mr. Wilkins, 
 in order to add it to my collection, some of 
 whose exhibits caught your notice in the 
 library." 
 
 " Paint my nose sky-blue and pink rings 
 around my dead-lights," thundered Mr. Wil 
 kins, as he pounded the table so that the 
 
 [13
 
 y. Archibald McKackney 
 
 glasses danced jigs. " Some of em plays 
 they re kings or trains of choo-choo cars, but 
 whiskers is certainly harmless and diverting." 
 
 " We will have the first sitting to-morrow 
 morning, then," said I. " I am a fair ama 
 teur with oils and I can assure you a credit 
 able likeness." 
 
 " Don t hurry it, sir," anxiously put in the 
 sailor. " It s a shame to spoil a beard like 
 mine to save time, which was made for 
 slaves." 
 
 I had explored some of the remote parts of 
 the Seven Seas which were familiar to this 
 deep-water sailor, and the later hours in the 
 library fled with a flowing sheet. Mr. Wil- 
 kins became hugely interested in my hobby 
 after fathoming the ardor with which I had 
 braved dangers and hardships in quest of rare 
 whiskers, and before midnight we had learned 
 to esteem each other as men of uncommon 
 parts and experiences. 
 
 It was to be regretted that at length Mr. 
 Wilkins became so drowsy that he suddenly 
 fell asleep in his chair. Nor could he be 
 14]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 awakened by shouting, shaking, or tickling in 
 the ribs. The servants had gone to bed, and 
 after tugging in vain at the formidable bulk 
 of my guest, I decided to let him remain as he 
 was. I reflected that he was comfortable, and 
 that whenever he should happen to come to he 
 could find his way to his room. Pon my soul, 
 he was like a dead man. I surveyed with the 
 most respectful admiration the flamboyant and 
 unique beard of the sleeper and went upstairs. 
 
 Some time later in the night I was aroused 
 by a crashing sound and a scuffling as of a 
 struggle somewhere above my head. Still 
 dazed with sleep I pushed the electric button 
 at my bedside and waited for my valet. There 
 was no response, and after scrambling to the 
 floor I turned on the lights and rang the but 
 ler s bell. After waiting through intermina 
 ble moments I concluded that in some mys 
 terious fashion my household was prevented 
 from coming to my aid. 
 
 Tiptoeing carefully into the hall I stole 
 down the broad staircase and fairly ran for 
 the front door. It had flashed into my mind 
 
 [15
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 that the sailor might be conducting a lone- 
 handed series of depredations. I thought at 
 once of the valuables below stairs, and I bit 
 terly regretted that I had not taken more pre 
 cautions to guard my collection of precious 
 stones, a fad of my earlier years, during which 
 I had sought to make my collection of rubies 
 the finest in the world. 
 
 But while I was fumbling with the lock, the 
 sound of a prodigious yawn echoed from the 
 library. I cast a swift glance over my shoul 
 der and was relieved beyond words to see Mr. 
 Hank Wilkins stretching himself in the depths 
 of his luxurious arm-chair. 
 
 " I will have to trust him," I gasped to my 
 self. " I believe that a desperate gang of 
 scoundrels is after my rubies. I was warned 
 only a week ago to take them to the city for 
 safekeeping." 
 
 I fled into the library and Mr. Wilkins 
 blinked and grinned at the sight of my agi 
 tated figure in pink pajamas. 
 
 " Worried about my getting away with the 
 silver, Commodore?" he asked. 
 16]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 " No, no," I stammered, " but I have been 
 foolish enough to keep in that small safe be 
 hind you the finest collection of unset rubies 
 in the United States. Burglars are in the 
 house. They have silenced or killed my ser 
 vants. They will kill us for those jewels. 
 What can we do? Quick, man." 
 
 The mind of Mr. Wilkins had become clear 
 and alert, and he was a man to meet such a 
 crisis as this without flinching. 
 
 " If they ve captured all hands but us, 
 there must be a gang of em with desperate 
 business on hand," he whispered hoarsely. 
 " And we can t get away. And, by Jupiter, 
 we don t want to. Let em come. Here, open 
 that safe, quick." 
 
 They will blow it open if I don t, I sup 
 pose," I groaned. " We cannot hide the 
 rubies now. They will turn this room upside 
 down when they find us here." 
 
 " I heard steps up aloft somewheres," mut 
 tered Mr. Wilkins. " Open that safe, I tell 
 you. There, that s more like it." While I 
 was twisting the knob of the combination, the 
 
 [I?
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 sailor grabbed a bottle of mucilage from the 
 writing table. As I withdrew a small tray on 
 which the clustered gems gleamed like drops 
 of blood, Mr. Hank Wilkins swept up a 
 handful, let a stream of mucilage fall on them, 
 and rolled the gems in his two fists. Then, 
 two and three at a time, he stowed the rubies 
 in the burrowed depths of his Titian beard. 
 It was the work of seconds only to scoop up 
 another fistful of treasure, smear the rubies 
 with the gummy fluid and bury or cache them 
 in this same flaming jungle where they clung 
 secure and wholly invisible. 
 
 " Shut the safe and sit down calm and easy, 
 sir," he commanded me. " If the coast is 
 clear, we may make a run for it yet." 
 
 But as the sailor slipped toward the nearest 
 window, hoping to find a way of retreat, three 
 masked men appeared in the hall doorway. 
 Three blue-barreled revolvers were leveled at 
 me, and their muzzles looked to be as big as 
 megaphones. The leader cried: 
 
 " Hands up. And you with the red whis 
 kers, put em over your head. Ride herd on 
 18]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 em, Bill, and shoot if they bat an eye while 
 we tackle the safe." 
 
 Mr. Hank Wilkins stood fixed with hands 
 upraised in an attitude of patriarchal benedic 
 tion while with an expression of humorous 
 appreciation he listened to my heroic refusal 
 to reveal the combination of the safe. It was 
 not until the door had been blown off by the 
 wrathful burglars that our plight became men 
 acing. As soon as the empty tray was dis 
 covered the leader whirled on me with black 
 oaths and yelled: 
 
 " We know the stuff is here. It ain t up 
 stairs, and we ll blow your brains out if you 
 don t give up." 
 
 The room was ransacked with destructive 
 fury, desks broken open, cupboards smashed, 
 while one burglar stood over me and pressed 
 a revolver against my bald and fevered brow. 
 Then the sailor was flung to the floor and 
 bound with curtain cords, while our captors 
 fairly ripped off our garments in their ruthless 
 search. 
 
 " By ," cried the leader, " toast 
 
 [19
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 old McKackney s feet and let him yell. 
 The flunkies is all doped or sand-bagged. 
 The rubies is in this room, we had the tip 
 straight." 
 
 To the horror of the helpless sailor and to 
 my own unutterable anguish, I was plucked 
 from my chair and borne toward the fire 
 place in which smoldered a huge back-log. 
 My struggles were so frantic and my cries so 
 piercing that two of the rascals were wholly 
 absorbed in this hideous task. The third was 
 busily kicking to pieces the one surviving cabi 
 net and Mr. Hank Wilkins was unnoticed for 
 the moment. 
 
 With a mighty, grunting heave of his big 
 chest, and with every splendid muscle swelled 
 and taut, he strained against his bonds in a 
 supreme effort. Nothing weaker than a wire 
 cable could have withstood it. The curtain 
 cords snapped and the sailor was on his feet 
 with a bound like an angry cat. Before the 
 nearest burglar could turn, Mr. Wilkins had 
 hurled a mahogany chair at him. It sped like 
 a twelve-inch shell, dashed his victim against 
 20]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 " I was plucked from my chair and borne toward the 
 fireplace." 
 
 the wall with sickening impact and left him 
 senseless. His revolver clattered from his 
 limp hand, and Wilkins scooped it up as he 
 ran. Before the pair of villains near the fire 
 place could do more than let me fall squirming 
 
 [21
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 across the fender, the sailor had shot one of 
 them through the shoulder and beaten the 
 other to the floor with the heavy butt of his 
 weapon. 
 
 Having stood me on my feet, my rescuer 
 disarmed his captives, made them fast to 
 chairs with deft knots and hitches and flew up 
 stairs to muster the servants. One by one he 
 removed their gags and bonds, kicked and 
 cuffed the effects of chloroform from their 
 addled brains and drove them trooping down 
 ahead of him. While they bandaged the hurts 
 of the burglars I was able to steer my tottering 
 limbs to the telephone and summon the police 
 from Coveport. 
 
 By the time the captives had been carted 
 away to the hospital, daylight was streaming 
 through the library windows. It illumined 
 with a splendid radiance the beard of Hank 
 Wilkins, who was engaged in plucking from 
 its incarnadined depths a wondrous store of 
 jewels. I watched him with profound grati 
 tude and admiration. The sailor paused in 
 his task to chant a melodious inspiration : 
 22]
 
 Episode of the Titian Beard 
 
 "Heigh, ho! Roll and go! 
 Rubies in his whiskers, 
 For he told me so." 
 
 I grasped the hard fist of my guest and said 
 with deep feeling: 
 
 " You shall not roll and go from this house 
 as long as it suits you to stay. There is a man 
 behind that peerless Titian beard, and I owe 
 you more than I can ever repay." 
 
 " My whiskers is my fortune, sir," cheerily 
 replied Mr. Wilkins, " and they are yours to 
 command, even if you want to dye em bottle- 
 green. And here is the last ruby of the lot, 
 sir, all safe and sound. I had to go deep into 
 the underbrush to dig it out." 
 
 " I am in need of a faithful assistant," I 
 told the honest fellow with a chuckle, " and 
 I am inclined to dub you * The Hair Ap 
 parent. " 
 
 [23
 
 THE PURSUIT OF 
 THE HIRSUTE ORCHESTRA
 
 CHAPTER II 
 
 THE PURSUIT OF THE HIRSUTE 
 ORCHESTRA 
 
 I HAD hastened to my " work-shop," or 
 laboratory, early in the morning of that 
 memorable day. For months I had been grop 
 ing my way toward a discovery which should 
 set the world of science by the ears and crown 
 the brow of J. Archibald McKackney with a 
 unique kind of fame. My Whisker Collec 
 tion, notable as it was, had almost ceased to 
 focus my interests. My life was bound up in 
 the array of electrical machinery, burnished 
 spheres, rows of tuning forks and other com 
 plex apparatus which filled the long room up 
 under the roof of my mansion. Even my 
 loyal assistant, Hank Wilkins, had not been 
 taken into my confidence. The former sailor- 
 man was left to pore over the illustrated cata- 
 
 [27
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 logue of the McKackney Whisker Collection 
 while I toiled behind locked doors. 1 
 
 Never can I forget the moment when I 
 rushed into the upper hall and shouted down 
 the stairway to Wilkins : 
 
 " Come up here. I ve done it, by the Lord 
 Harry. Hurry up. The grandest discovery 
 of modern times. You can hear it. Beauti 
 ful, wonderful, amazing." 
 
 I was dancing with impatience as the sailor 
 fairly flew upstairs, his immense crimson beard 
 streaming over his shoulders as if he had set 
 studding-sails for a swift passage. Our 
 strange adventures in search of rare types of 
 whiskers had prepared him for the unexpected, 
 but for once he was almost dismayed. I 
 grasped his arm and led him into the work 
 shop and pointed toward a row of rounded 
 wooden blocks to which were attached arti- 
 
 1 Mr. Wilkins was also engaged in a scientific problem of 
 his own at this time, with the solution of which he hoped to 
 surprise his employer. His secret task was doomed to failure 
 however, and it was withheld from Mr. McKackney s knowl 
 edge. Mr. Wilkins hoped to be able to compound a prepa 
 ration which should make whiskers moth-proof in all clim 
 ates. (Editor s Note.) 
 
 28]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 ficial whiskers of various lengths and patterns. 
 The faithful fellow rubbed his eyes and his 
 jaw dropped. If the display of false whiskers 
 puzzled him, the maze of elaborate mechan 
 isms to right and left fairly bewildered him. 
 The series of bellows geared to a small engine 
 and dynamo next drew his attention and his 
 expression was so extraordinary that I man 
 aged to explain; 
 
 " I didn t mean to frighten you, Wilkins, 
 and it will take time to batter this achievement 
 into that thick skull of yours. Sit down and 
 I will try to make it clear." 
 
 I could not restrain a nervous laugh, and 
 my voice was not easily controlled as I 
 mopped my face and went on: 
 
 " I am excited, Wilkins, and small wonder. 
 After many heartbreaking failures and incred 
 ible effort, I have I have been able to apply 
 the theories of musical vibration to the human 
 whisker. For ages the winds of Heaven 
 have been sweeping with wonderful melody 
 through the whiskers of mankind, which has 
 been deaf to the magic of their harmonies." 
 
 [29
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 Wilkins made a brave rally and tried to 
 meet my astounding statement half-way as he 
 fairly shouted : 
 
 "The devil you say, sir! Then my peer 
 less Titian beard must be a whole brass band. 
 Do you mean to say you can play tunes 
 on em?" 
 
 He had blindly stumbled on the very climax 
 of my discovery, and as I waved my arm 
 around the room I told him : 
 
 " That is what I hope to do, and before 
 very long if you will help me. Did you ever 
 see an ^Eolian harp?" 
 
 " One of those boxes full of strings that 
 make soft and soothing sounds when tickled 
 by the wind?" he replied. "Why, I sailed 
 with a skipper that had one in his cabin sky 
 light. But you could hear that music, and my 
 whiskers have been dumb for thirty years." 
 
 Then I told him, as simply as possible, how 
 after an exhaustive study of the laws of vibra 
 tion and sound waves I had evolved the theory 
 that there must be a similitude between the 
 .^Eolian harp and the Human Whisker. The 
 
 30]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 instrument was but waiting for the player. 
 But further progress had seemed hopeless 
 after I discovered by experiment that the aver 
 age vibrations of the Human Whisker when 
 stirred by the wind range from ten thousand 
 to forty thousand per second. Now it is well 
 known, as I explained, that the practical range 
 of the musical scale is hardly more than four 
 thousand vibrations per second for the highest 
 note of the piccolo flute. It was therefore 
 evident that the sound of the vibrating whis 
 ker is beyond the reach of the human ear. 
 This accounted for the failure of the human 
 race to detect its own hirsute music, as Wil- 
 kins was quick to comprehend. And because 
 these tones were inaudible without some means 
 of greatly magnifying and reco rding sound, 
 my most arduous efforts had been bent toward 
 developing the powers of the microphone. 
 
 When under unusual mental pressure Mr. 
 Hank Wilkins sometimes burst into snatches 
 of impromptu doggerel, and before I could 
 carry my explanation any farther he chanted 
 with great vehemence: 
 
 [31
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 " Will I hear my whiskers singin 
 
 When the wind is sou -sou -west ? 
 And melodious music ringin 
 From the region of my vest? " 
 
 I could not help smiling at his faith in my 
 assertions and I hastened to finish my expla 
 nation. I told him how my specially devised 
 improvements of the microphone, together 
 with my newly discovered principles of sound 
 wave motion, had enabled me to hear the tones 
 of the Human Whisker when set in vibration 
 by air currents, and that the resonators con 
 trived by Hemholtz had shown me how to 
 distinguish the fundamental notes from the 
 confusing over-tones which determined the 
 timbre or clang-tint. 1 Wilkins heard me out 
 with admirable patience, although he pulled 
 at his beard with nervous fingers as if eager 
 to test his own share of hirsute harmony. 
 When I paused he asked me if I could " tune 
 
 1 The Editor has omitted from Mr. McKackney s manu 
 script several pages of highly technical analysis of the prin 
 ciples of acoustics involved in his discovery. Such discussion 
 more properly belong in the scientific work now in course of 
 preparation. 
 
 32]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 up a few bass or tenor whiskers and give him 
 some action." 
 
 I moved over to my switchboard and halted 
 only to tell him that the length and texture 
 of the whisker determine the number of sound 
 waves and therefore the vibratory pitch or 
 note. " False whiskers will do for experi 
 ments," I added, " but they lack a certain 
 fullness of tone which, I am sure, must be 
 found in the living growth." Then I asked 
 Wilkins to hold the receivers of the micro 
 phone battery to his ears while I started the 
 bellows. 
 
 My assistant gingerly sat himself down at 
 a table littered with wires and disks and cells, 
 and faced the row of rounded wooden blocks 
 which were adorned with such various pat 
 terns of ornamental whiskers as the " Picca 
 dilly Weeper " (No. 2), the " Burnside," the 
 " Mutton-chop," the " Galway," the " Chin 
 Curtain" (full size), the "Chest-warmer," 
 and the " Populists Delight." 
 
 I confess that my hand trembled with tense 
 expectancy as I began to operate the electric 
 
 [33
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 keys. Then the bellows began to heave and 
 stir and the false whiskers were violently agi 
 tated, one set after another. Of course I could 
 hear no resultant sounds from the vibrations 
 thus set in motion, and I was delighted when 
 Wilkins smothered an amazed oath while 
 his rugged face was a study of novel emo 
 tions. There had come to his ears a succes 
 sion of musical sounds unlike anything he had 
 ever heard. He informed me that one re 
 minded him of a violin; another sounded like 
 the lingering sweetness of a twanged harp- 
 string; while a third suggested a violoncello. 
 Mingled with these were incredibly high- 
 pitched and piping notes that soared far above 
 any octaves known to human instruments. 
 There were discords, of course, because I had 
 not progressed as far as trying to tune these 
 experimental whiskers. 
 
 I asked Wilkins to move one of the dum 
 mies aside and step in its place. I was wild 
 with eagerness to try a living subject. Leav 
 ing one set of bellows pumping at full blast, 
 I rushed to snatch up the receivers. The stiff 
 34]
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 breeze fanned the noble beard of Wilkins and 
 spread it out like a crimson panel. After 
 listening for several minutes, I dropped the 
 instruments and could not help shouting: 
 
 " Hurrah, I was right. No more false 
 whiskers. Oh, the mellow richness of your 
 tone, Wilkins. Never, never trim your whis 
 kers without my supervision. After lunch we 
 must discuss the plans for assembling an or 
 chestra with a human key-board. I will spare 
 no expense to find the needed assortment of 
 whiskers." 
 
 As we went down stairs I was pleased to 
 hear Wilkins humming behind me : 
 
 " As long as there s harvests of whiskers to grow, 
 We shall have music wherever we go." 
 
 It was late that night before I was able 
 to outline the final instructions which should 
 send my assistant forth on the most difficult 
 mission of our checkered career together. He 
 was not appalled in the least, however, and I 
 had reason for renewed gratitude that so 
 36]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 resourceful and dauntless a companion as Wil- 
 kins had been granted me in the pursuit of my 
 hobby. It was Wilkins who had obtained the 
 portrait of the Insane Cossack with the Pink 
 Whiskers after a perilous journey across 
 Siberia, and that splendid trophy in its massive 
 gilt frame hung facing him as we chatted in 
 my library. It was in itself an inspiration and 
 a reminder. 
 
 On the table were strewn my sketches and 
 diagrams that indicated the various styles of 
 whiskers needed to perfect the musical scale 
 which I had resolved to assemble as soon as 
 possible. They were grouped according to 
 the pitch required, and carefully numbered 
 and described. He could not go far wrong 
 with these charts. He was to go out into the 
 highways and hedges and find twenty-two 
 men no more, no less, to equip me with a 
 range of three octaves for my Hirsute Orches 
 tra. They would be offered handsome sala 
 ries to visit me for an indefinite period, and 
 already I had given orders to have the billiard 
 room and annex made into comfortable dormi- 
 
 [37
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 tories with a private dining-room. These 
 guests were to be carefully selected as per the 
 diagrams furnished Wilkins, and I explained 
 to him: 
 
 " Each of these species of whiskers will 
 give forth a different note when properly 
 tuned and all you will have to do is to consult 
 your directions. For example, here is Face 
 Number Six Close Cropped Sideboards (see 
 page 1 1 8 of the illustrated catalogue of my 
 collection), or Face Number Nine Crisp, 
 Pointed Vandyke, such as young doctors 
 affect. If my recent experiments with the 
 tuning forks have not misled me, this latter 
 type of whisker should develop a clear and 
 bell-like Middle C." 
 
 Wilkins ventured to object : 
 
 " But I can t tell whether they ll be melo- 
 jious. Supposing I happen to ship you a 
 shockin consignment of discords." 
 
 He also inquired why he should not be 
 allowed to pick up " a bunch of the hairiest, 
 whiskerest Johnnies he could find and let Mr. 
 McKackney trim, clip and tune them to suit." 
 38]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 I explained with some slight impatience that 
 I could not think of waiting for such whiskers 
 as these to season and gain timbre that a 
 beard is like a violin, and needs age to give it 
 tone. Rather sharply I ordered Wilkins to be 
 sure to send me no whiskers that had been 
 worn for less than three years. 
 
 I left him sitting by the library fire with 
 his head in his hands studying his charts. 
 The prospect of asking perfect strangers for 
 the use of their whiskers seemed to disturb 
 him now that he was on the eve of setting out 
 in chase. But I knew that no difficulties could 
 make him flinch once he was fairly on the trail 
 of a coveted whisker. 
 
 My estate is remote from populous towns, 
 and Wilkins had decided to head for Boston 
 as the most promising field for his quarry. 
 From his detailed reports I later learned that 
 upon reaching that city he laid his course for 
 the wharves and sailors boarding-houses 
 where he was most likely to run across old 
 friends. This was a wise choice also for tech 
 nical reasons, because I afterwards discovered 
 
 [39
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 that the whiskers of the seafaring members 
 of the orchestra surpassed the others in musi 
 cal qualities. I explained this on the ground 
 that they had been exposed to strong winds 
 and rain and sun until they were toned and 
 seasoned to an uncommon degree but I am 
 wandering from my story. 
 
 Wilkins first capture, it seems, was made 
 as he was nearing a saloon where, in other 
 days, he had consorted with the sailormen of 
 Boston. Sighting an old shipmate, Peter 
 O Dwyer by name, my assistant was delighted 
 to note that he had grown a set of whiskers 
 " that would caulk a ship s yawl." Consult 
 ing his chart Wilkins saw at once that the 
 whiskers looked very much like " Number 
 Thirteen (Middle Octave), medium length, 
 square cut, bushy growth." 
 
 He overhauled O Dwyer and over a table 
 in the back room of the tavern renewed a briny 
 friendship. Wilkins began to glimpse the 
 troubles that threatened to beset him when 
 O Dwyer was moved to ask: 
 
 " You re lookin at me kind of cock- 
 40]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 eyed and queer, Hank. Don t my face fit 
 me?" 
 
 Wilkins unfolded his bulky bundle of docu 
 ments and jabbing one sheet with his stubby 
 forefinger exclaimed: 
 
 " No offense meant, Pete, but I want your 
 whiskers. There s a reward out for a man 
 that can match these specifications. Tell me 
 first, how long have you worn them ? " 
 
 He was assured that the O Dwyer whiskers 
 had sprouted four years back, or just after 
 these two had parted in Shanghai. Wilkins 
 came at once to the point and told him: 
 
 " Forty dollars a month and keep you 
 like a prince. A job right out of a fairy 
 story that s what I offer you. And I ll give 
 you a juicy advance the minute you sign 
 articles." 
 
 Mr. O Dwyer narrowly eyed his friend, 
 and was unfeeling enough to reply: 
 
 " I m plannin to ship aboard a bark to 
 morrow, and you d better come along with 
 me. Booze always did give you singular 
 visions. Did you dream you d started a mat- 
 
 [41
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 tress factory and wanted my whiskers for 
 stuffing?" 
 
 Wilkins saw that it would only alarm his 
 shipmate to enlarge upon the musical values 
 of whiskers and tactfully based his persuasions 
 upon a show of cash. Still mystified, but con 
 fiding in the oft-proven friendship of Wil 
 kins, able seaman O Dwyer at length declared 
 that he was ready to follow him until the sur 
 face of Hades became solidly congealed, or 
 words to that effect. As they walked toward 
 the water front a salty breeze swept up from 
 the harbor and fairly whistled through the 
 notable beards of these two seafarers. Wil 
 kins halted in his tracks and cocked his head 
 as if eagerly listening. O Dwyer stared at 
 him with gloomy misgivings as if his suspi 
 cions were trooping back, and muttered 
 something about " having known em to hear 
 voices in the early stages." 
 
 As Wilkins tells it, he felt himself blush 
 up to the eyes as he came to himself with a 
 start and thought aloud : 
 
 " I just couldn t help listening. But of 
 42]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 course my tones was invisible to the naked 
 ear." 
 
 After putting O Dwyer aboard a train to 
 be shipped to me as the first " note " har 
 vested, Wilkins set out after additional frag 
 ments of stray harmony. Among the several 
 prizes captured later in the day was the cook 
 of a coasting schooner who proved to be a 
 treasure indeed. When sighted he was leaning 
 against his galley airily twisting the needle- 
 like ends of a rat-tailed mustache, while a slim 
 goatee jutted from his chin like the point of 
 a marlin spike. Wilkins observations showed 
 his quick grasp of the technique of his ardu 
 ous mission. 
 
 " I could see that he belonged with the rest 
 of my sweet singers," he explained to me, 
 " for them little wind-cutters was keyed way 
 up for the piccolo flute. And that goatee 
 added to them cunning mustachioes had ought 
 to make a noise like pickin three strings of 
 a guitar at once." 
 
 The cook was a Portuguese madly in love 
 with a girl in New Bedford and the offer of 
 
 [43
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 a situation ashore made him desert his pots 
 and pans with cries of joy. Gaining assur 
 ance from these early successes Wilkins left 
 the water front for more conventional regions 
 and was routed in confusion for the first time 
 in his dashing career. While crossing the 
 Common there approached him a slim and 
 very erect gentleman with a pompous dignity 
 of bearing. He carried a bundle of books 
 under one arm, and seemed absorbed in 
 weighty reflections. Wilkins appraised him as 
 a person of intellectual distinction and thrilled 
 with pleasure as he stared at the trim, brown 
 " vandyke " which appeared to have been 
 tended with scrupulous care. In a letter to 
 me Wilkins wrote: 
 
 " I wished you had given me a tuning fork 
 to try them out, Commodore, but this high- 
 browed party struck me as a perfect specimen 
 of Number Five and properly sound and 
 seasoned. I thought I d just put it to him as 
 man to man. So I braced up to him with a 
 most respectful apology, and tried to tell him 
 that as I felt sure that he would be willing to 
 44]
 
 Airily twisting the needle-like ends ot a rat-tailed 
 mustache."
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 help along the cause of Acoustics and Har 
 mony, I d like to borrow his whiskers, he to 
 go along with them of course. I asked him 
 to spare me only a few minutes conversation, 
 and promised to return him and his whiskers 
 in good order." 
 
 Condensing Mr. Wilkins narrative, it ap 
 pears that the stranger fled with panicky 
 strides, and cried out and wildly beckoned to 
 the first policeman he saw. Wilkins stood his 
 ground until the policeman made for him and 
 then he dove like a frightened rabbit into the 
 nearest subway entrance. He was followed 
 aboard the train by a smartly dressed young 
 man with a twinkling eye who sat down by his 
 side and remarked : 
 
 " I beg your pardon, but I simply can t help 
 asking what you said to Professor R. Xerxes 
 Peabody. He is my uncle, you know, and I 
 never saw him rattled before. Upon my 
 word, it was like watching a glacier blow 
 up." 
 
 Wilkins was worried and upset, but the 
 young man s friendly air soon won his confi- 
 46]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 dence, and at length he explained the purpose 
 of his mission. The stranger laughed so long 
 and loud that Wilkins began to resent the ill- 
 timed levity. Then the young man explained 
 that Boston was immensely proud of Profes 
 sor R. Xerxes Peabody as its most cultured citi 
 zen, and that never in his life had he spoken to 
 a human being without an introduction. The 
 idea of asking him for " the loan of his whis 
 kers " struck the cheerful nephew as such an 
 absolutely incredible event that he fairly begged 
 Wilkins to " fall off at the next station and 
 have a drink " in celebration. Wilkins was 
 persuaded to follow his acquaintance, and a 
 little later he related the morning s adven 
 tures. I am sure that as the listener studied 
 the candid features and keen eyes of Wilkins 
 he must have viewed him with growing seri 
 ousness, for he finally exclaimed with much 
 emphasis : 
 
 " You aren t in the least bit dippy, Mr. Wil 
 kins. It is gorgeous, every bit of it. And you 
 simply must let me in on this. I am a musi 
 cian myself in an amateurish way. And I am 
 
 [47
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 dying to meet Mr. J. Archibald McKackney, 
 whom I know by reputation of course for his 
 famous Whisker Collections." 
 
 The conscientious Wilkins protested that 
 his young acquaintance was ineligible because 
 his face was as smooth as a hard-boiled egg, 
 and called him a " fiddle without any strings." 
 But this Mr. Arthur Harrison Colby was a 
 perisistent youth and he argued with much 
 spirit that while Mr. Wilkins was able to 
 handle seafaring folk, he had already run out 
 of this web-footed material and was invading 
 new territory in which he was apt to " find 
 seventeen kinds of trouble." He quoted Pro 
 fessor Peabody as an example of the perils 
 that confronted the musical pilgrim, and 
 wound up with this proposition : 
 
 " Now, I can guarantee to take care of a 
 dozen numbers on your chart among my own 
 acquaintances if you will ring me in as assist 
 ant on the harmonious round-up." 
 
 Wilkins thought it over and finally wired 
 me the circumstances with a request for my 
 O.K. I was glad to send my approval and 
 48]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 next day received a note from Mr. Colby in 
 which he said: 
 
 " I thank you from the bottom of my heart 
 for your confidence in me. I have had a very 
 expensive musical education and I realize the 
 importance of your undertaking. I promise 
 on my honor to spare no pains to help Mr. 
 Wilkins assemble the most harmonious col 
 lection of whiskers that ever sung together 
 like the morning stars." 
 
 Mr. Colby was as good as his word. Three 
 days later Wilkins found him waiting in the 
 hotel lobby. With him were no fewer than 
 a dozen mustached and bearded strangers. 
 Most of them were fashionably dressed, al 
 though four or five of these recruits looked 
 badly battered and seedy. Before Wilkins 
 could shout a greeting, this admirable young 
 Colby waved his bamboo cane as if it had 
 been a baton, and his followers rose as one 
 man, and bowed with great dignity. They 
 were presented by their leader as " pretty near 
 two full Octaves, shy one corking fine note, 
 which got lost in the shuffle. He was a merry 
 
 [49
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 wag, whom we plucked from the Salvation 
 Army bread line. On the way hither he 
 sprinted for a weighing machine, explaining 
 that before taking a musical engagement he 
 wanted to try his scales." 
 
 Wilkins, of course, carefully inspected the 
 company, compared their individual whisker 
 growths with his charts and checked them off 
 one by one. The results were so gratifying 
 that he asked Mr. Colby to " steer the whole 
 symphony into the bar and wet its pipes." 
 Presently the Salvation Army jester drifted 
 in, and Wilkins was able to tell Mr. Colby 
 that nineteen of the twenty-two musical notes 
 had been secured. The remaining three, how 
 ever, were the " rarest whiskers that grew in 
 these latitudes," according to the experienced 
 Wilkins, and he decided to send Mr. Colby 
 ahead with his " Octaves " for speedy deliv 
 ery. He himself would stay behind and en 
 deavor to run down the missing notes. Mr. 
 Colby explained that several of his followers 
 were personal friends of his who had been 
 selected from the club windows of Boston. 
 50]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 " They will be missed, because they were dis 
 tinctly decorative," he added. 
 
 From the end of the bar there came the 
 subdued harmony of an impromptu quartet 
 singing : 
 
 " There s music in the Hair-r-r." 
 
 Wilkins opined that it was time to move, 
 and Mr. Colby promised to deliver his melo 
 dious hirelings at their destination in ship 
 shape order. I will say for Mr. Colby that 
 he did deliver his consignment intact, but their 
 arrival at my place was unpleasantly spectacu 
 lar. From the railroad station they marched 
 into my grounds in column of twos with half 
 the village at their heels. Mr. Colby s Har 
 vard friends had festooned their whiskers with 
 bows of crimson ribbon and at frequent inter 
 vals they shouted a stentorian cheer which 
 wound up with : 
 
 " Whiz-z-z, Whee-e, Bing Boom Ah-h. 
 We re the yEol-i-an Orchestra-a."
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 I succeeded in quieting this disturbance and 
 showed these fortissimo pilgrims to their quar 
 ters in the annex. No sooner were they off 
 my hands than Captain Jonathan Rust was 
 setting the dormitory by the ears. He was an 
 old sea-dog and a confounded nuisance, and I 
 had reason to wish that I might strangle him 
 in his baritone whiskers. First he took offense 
 at the harmless Portuguese sea cook and 
 demanded that he be removed to other quar 
 ters. The old curmudgeon made a social 
 issue of eating at the same table with a man 
 whom he would feel at liberty to kick the 
 length of a deck, and whittled out several 
 wooden belaying pins which he hurled at the 
 head of the panicky Portuguese. Then he 
 insisted that the company should be divided 
 into two watches for the sake of discipline. 
 A musical crank argued that the natural divi 
 sion was into the three Octaves, and these two 
 quarreled night and day. Some of the others 
 took sides, and I was in mortal fear that they 
 would fall to pulling each other s whiskers and 
 so wreck their tonal values. 
 52]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 On the top of these trials, the able seaman, 
 Peter O Dwyer, persisted in making fish-nets 
 for diversion. Of course he had to upset a 
 bucket of tar in his whiskers, and Heaven 
 only knew whether I could get him cleaned up 
 in time for the first rehearsal. When Mr. 
 Colby and his friends were not playing golf, 
 they started a fresh row among old Rust, 
 the musical crank, and the Portuguese cook, 
 and egged them on with Harvard cheers. I 
 breathed a prayer of fervent thanksgiving 
 when Wilkins wired that he was en route with 
 the twenty-second prize in tow. This musical 
 fragment proved to be an Irish stevedore with 
 a coy and peerless fringe sprouting from be 
 neath his smooth-shaven chin. I was so 
 glad to see Wilkins that I included this Mr. 
 O Hara in my effusive greeting at the station. 
 The old gentleman was ill at ease and backed 
 away from me as he croaked : 
 
 " Your fifty dollars is in me pants, and I d 
 go half way to Hell for twice as much as that. 
 But I ll be ready to lep through a windy if 
 you do begin talkin to yourself and makin 
 
 [53
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 faces at me. Mister Wilkins here says he will 
 give me a job on the high C s. I sailed thim 
 when a lad, but they was niver like this." 
 
 Mr. O Hara was cheered to find several 
 salt-water comrades in the dormitory and the 
 forceful presence of Wilkins soon removed the 
 discords from what he called my " human 
 anthems." In the evening I summoned my 
 able assistant to the library and congratulated 
 him upon his brilliantly successful pilgrimage. 
 My hasty survey of the tout ensemble led me 
 to believe that the material for my unique Hir 
 sute Orchestra was ready to be classified and 
 tuned. Wilkins reported that Captain Rust 
 had suddenly became nervous about the dan 
 ger of fire among the luxuriant growths of 
 whiskers gathered in the dormitory and had 
 tried to place an embargo on smoking. I 
 ordered Wilkins to equip the old man with a 
 dozen hand grenades and a chemical extin 
 guisher and to appoint him chief of the Fire 
 Department, and then I took up the more im 
 portant subject of assembling the orchestra in 
 my laboratory for preliminary practice. 
 54]
 
 The Pursuit of the Hirsute Orchestra 
 
 " Have the full three octaves here at ten 
 o clock to-morrow morning, Wilkins," I said 
 in parting. You and I are on the eve of a 
 marvelous revelation." 
 
 " All we need is a fair wind, sir," solemnly 
 spoke the faithful fellow from the doorway. 
 
 [55
 
 CHAPTER III 
 
 THE TRAGEDY OF THE PEASANT S 
 REVENGE 
 
 WHEN the twenty-two members of the 
 Hirsute Orchestra filed into my 
 library on the morning named for the first 
 rehearsal, I surveyed their varied assortment 
 of whiskers with a good deal of pride and 
 satisfaction. It had been no easy task to find 
 and assemble this animated keyboard with 
 which I proposed to test my new theory of 
 musical vibration. But before attempting to 
 extract harmony from their whiskers I had to 
 contend with annoying discords of individual 
 temperament, for my assistant, Hank Wilkins, 
 had selected these gentlemen for their whis 
 kers alone. Here on the eve of the first 
 rehearsal old Captain Rust showed a quarrel 
 some mood. He had been picked up on the 
 Boston water front because his snowy and 
 
 [59
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 majestic beard promised to supply a musical 
 note of rare power and resonance, and I had 
 been very patient with his infirmities of tem 
 per. But as he entered the library at the head 
 of the three octaves, he bellowed at me in a 
 stormy voice : 
 
 " I ain t going to be treated in this ridiki- 
 lus fashion. I ll take my whiskers and go 
 home. I didn t expect to be herded with a pas- 
 sel of looneytics and used as a gosh-whanged 
 ^Eolian harp." 
 
 My most tactful efforts finally subdued him, 
 and I mention the incident only to show the 
 kind of trials I had to contend with at this 
 time. As simply as possible I explained to the 
 company the theory of sound vibration and 
 the application of these proven facts to the 
 Human Whisker. They listened with respect 
 ful interest, although their eyes could not help 
 wandering to study the long lines of framed 
 photographs and paintings on my walls, which 
 exhibited the choicest specimens of my unique 
 collection of whiskers, wild and tame. 
 
 At length I led them upstairs, and after 
 60]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 me trooped Boston clubmen, deep-water skip 
 per, sea-cook, physician, artist and lawyer, all 
 of them eager to know more about the reason 
 for my interest in them. I ushered them into 
 my " work-shop," and directed them to be 
 seated at random on three rows of chairs 
 which were arranged on a platform at one end 
 of the spacious room. They stared with 
 amazement at the seeming chaos of intricate 
 machinery that filled the place and I hastened 
 to explain: 
 
 " We will set to work, gentlemen, accord 
 ing to my tentative diagrams of the respective 
 tonal qualities of your whiskers. Captain 
 Rust is placed at the lowest note of the scale 
 to begin with." 
 
 The old gentleman rebelled at being put 
 lower in the scale than the Portuguese sea- 
 cook and swore that he outranked the " putty- 
 faced son of a tea-kettle." The more intelli 
 gent members of the orchestra grasped the 
 fact, however, that the longer and more luxu 
 riant the whisker the lower must be the pitch 
 of the resultant musical note, and that I had 
 
 [61
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 mastered the principle of the ^Eolian harp in 
 a novel and startling manner. One by one the 
 " notes " of this singular scale were given 
 their proper positions according to my care 
 fully prepared diagrams. It was more or less 
 guesswork until I could begin to tune these 
 picturesque and delicate vibratory media. 
 
 At last I was ready to seat myself in front 
 of the electric switch board which operated 
 the automatic series of bellows, and I applied 
 to my ears the receivers of the microphone 
 batteries. Wilkins, my assistant, had fastened 
 the head of each bewhiskered gentleman in a 
 cushioned clamp and adjusted a polished sound 
 reflector just behind him. I have been accused 
 of lacking a sense of humor, and I confess I 
 could see no cause for the suppressed hilarity 
 which seemed to be shaking Wilkins to his 
 foundations. The aspect of these solemn rows 
 of strangers pinned in position -like so many 
 luxuriant botanical specimens was of course 
 odd and unusual. From the pained expres 
 sions of their features I judged that they ex 
 pected me to electrocute them to a man. But 
 62]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 my trained artistic eye was busy with admiring 
 the beautiful regularity with which the serried 
 whiskers grew shorter and shorter as they 
 ascended the scale of three octaves. 
 
 At length I pressed a key and my fingers 
 were tremulous with excitement. The bellows 
 directly in front of old Captain Rust drove 
 a swift blast of air on his face and his beard 
 played to and fro like a miniature cascade. I 
 waited an instant and again turned on the air 
 current. The bellows next in line responded 
 to an electric impulse and the flowing " Dun 
 drearys " of the Salvation Army derelict wag 
 gled perceptibly. I turned to my tuning forks 
 and almost stopped breathing. I had heard 
 the first note struck from the vibrations of 
 Captain Rust s magnificent beard and now I 
 found that the next ascending note was . no 
 more than a quarter of a tone off the key. I 
 realized that my fondest dreams were coming 
 true, and my emotions were beyond words. 
 
 Step by step my marvelous mechanism 
 stirred the sensitive vibratory impulses of this 
 human scale into sounds too fine to be heard 
 
 [63
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 by the human ear. Ah, but they were rich 
 and enjoyable ! Up, up the scale I tried each 
 note until at last the needle-like mustaches and 
 spiked goatee of the Portuguese sea-cook were 
 trilling a faint, sweet chord, yes, a genuine 
 chord of three notes, not quite in key, but 
 magnificently promising. I was so carried 
 away with joy and excitement that I played 
 furiously up and down the scale, oblivious to 
 the false notes and discords, now caressing 
 the harmonious whiskers with a pianissimo 
 breeze, again fetching great booming notes 
 from the beard of Captain Rust with cyclonic 
 fortissimo gusts. 
 
 My instruments were of course eager to 
 hear for themselves, and one by one I allowed 
 them to use the microphone receivers and 
 listen to the music of each other s whiskers. 
 At last I had to tear them away from this 
 fascinating diversion, and announced that the 
 tuning process would begin at three o clock in 
 the afternoon. 
 
 Wilkins had already summoned a skilled 
 barber from Boston, with instructions to bring 
 64]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 his complete outfit of shears. I was fidgeting 
 with anxiety until the orchestra had reassem 
 bled. As soon as affairs were in readiness I 
 instructed the phlegmatic German barber as 
 follows : 
 
 " You must be sure to do exactly as I tell 
 you. When I am prepared to test the first 
 note (that old gentleman on the lower right), 
 you are to trim him as directed. Be sure to 
 preserve the most perfect symmetry. If you 
 cut on one side, the other must match it to 
 a hair s breadth or there will be discord." 
 
 The barber was a person of discretion and 
 made no comment beyond a muttered, " Mein 
 Gott, vat it is? " He wore a beard of Teu 
 tonic cut over which I made him slip a small 
 silk bag lest it might be set vibrating with 
 inharmonious effect. As soon as the knight 
 of the shears knelt beside Captain Rust, I 
 found the pitch of the note with a tuning fork, 
 while I told the barber: 
 
 " Clip a little off the left side. Now the 
 same off the right. Ah, that is better. It is 
 still a shade too low. Now a fraction off 
 
 [65
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 the bottom. The tone is almost perfect. Clip 
 the merest strand from under his chin. There, 
 he is absolutely in tune." 
 
 With deft shears the bewildered barber 
 altered, curtailed and harmonized the con 
 trasting types of whiskers that were displayed 
 along the ornate sequence of three octaves. 
 By shortening the vibratory media the tones 
 were easily raised, but when I found three sets 
 of whiskers pitched too low, I was compelled 
 to ask their owners to withdraw from rehear 
 sals until the natural process of growth should 
 lower their pitch. 
 
 When I dismissed the orchestra for the day 
 I cautioned them to keep away from damp 
 places lest the myriads of delicate strings of 
 their " ^Eolians " should shrink and get out 
 of tune. Wilkins suggested advising them 
 to use moth powder freely, but I think the 
 fellow was jesting. 
 
 I sent for him that evening and confided 
 my cherished purpose. In another fortnight 
 I hoped to be ready to play simple airs in the 
 key of C Natural on the McKackney Hirsute 
 66]
 
 lit
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 Orchestra. Then I intended to invite to a 
 private concert or exhibition a score of the 
 leading musicians and scientists of the East, 
 including the head of the Musical Department 
 of Harvard University. My bold crusade 
 in behalf of the Human Whisker as a field for 
 Nature study 1 had won me some small reputa 
 tion in the intellectual world, and I had reason 
 to believe that my invitation would be respect 
 fully entertained. 
 
 The rehearsals were conducted day and 
 night, and so far advanced were my plans 
 three days before the date of the concert that 
 I had the superb pleasure of listening to a 
 programme of no less than eight popular airs 
 played with notable beauty of expression. I 
 had become like a man in a dream, and had 
 lost all interest in other affairs. I therefore 
 paid little attention to Hank Wilkins when he 
 read me the following cablegram from Berlin : 
 
 " Bearded peasant shipped per instructions. Due 
 arrive steamer Bremen nineteenth. 
 
 " STEINBACH." 
 
 1 See Appendix A. 
 
 68]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 " Bearded peasant? " I echoed blankly. 
 " What the deuce is that. Some curio my 
 Berlin agent has sent me on approval? Do 
 you know anything about it, Wilkins? " 
 
 " Yes, sir," he replied. " Don t you recall 
 Steinbach s sending you word that he had 
 found a peasant near Hanover with a beard 
 six feet four and a half inches long, which he 
 braided and wore in three half-hitches around 
 his neck? You wanted to add him to your 
 collection, sir, and we were on the point of 
 starting for Germany to look him over when 
 you ran afoul of your musical vibration theory 
 and chucked everything else in the discard." 
 
 Then I remembered the bearded peasant. 
 I had cabled Steinbach to ship him to me and 
 to ask Lloyds to insure his whiskers for the 
 voyage. But I had no time to bother with my 
 collections now, for the concert was only two 
 days away. I asked Wilkins to run down to 
 New York and fetch the trophy home and find 
 quarters for him. In another week I could 
 study and photograph him at my leisure. 
 Then I dismissed this rare importation from 
 
 [69
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 -J^" 
 " Wilkins brought the hairy exile home with him." 
 
 my mind and plunged with furious energy 
 into the final series of rehearsals. 
 
 Wilkins met the steamer as directed and 
 brought the hairy exile home with him, while
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 curious crowds followed them to my gates. I 
 did not clap eyes on him at the time, and the 
 incidents leading up to the horrible tragedy 
 perpetrated by this base wretch came to my 
 knowledge after the event. The bearded one, 
 Hans Bumphauser by name, turned out to be 
 a vain and stupid yokel who had been vastly 
 puffed up by the invitation of the " great 
 American nobleman." His whiskered emi 
 nence had won him a certain notoriety in his 
 own village and he had come to conquer new 
 and glittering worlds. He had expected to 
 be received by me in person and the ends of 
 his beard were bound with gaudy fillets of 
 tinsel by way of a festal toilet. It vexed and 
 disgruntled him to find that the " nobleman " 
 was too busy to notice him. 
 
 The humiliated object de art sent numerous 
 messages to the mansion demanding art audi 
 ence with me, between whiles combing and 
 braiding his beard with praiseworthy diligence 
 and holding himself in readiness for the sum 
 mons that never came. I had "forbidden the 
 household servants to annoy me with outside
 
 jf. Archibald McKackney 
 
 matters, and I had forgotten the very exist 
 ence of Hans Bumphauser, the pride of Eistel- 
 berg. Would to Heaven I had given him the 
 finest suite in my mansion and dined him at 
 my right hand! 
 
 It seems that in his gloomy excursions over 
 the estate the bearded peasant had noticed the 
 unusual number of whiskered gentlemen who 
 seemed to be welcome guests at the mansion. 
 He saw them going to and fro in groups and 
 squads, and the sensational beard of Hank 
 Wilkins also helped to confirm the black sus 
 picions of Hans Bumphauser that these 
 strangers had crowded him out of favor with 
 the Lord of the Manor. He was even over 
 heard to mutter, " Gott in Himmel, are these 
 second-rate whiskers to make me forgotten 
 already?" But no importance was attached 
 to this ominous hint of what was shortly to 
 befall. 
 
 Jealousy was flaming his grief into slow 
 and sullen anger and he began to hunger for 
 revenge. His thick wits could devise no way 
 of harming the neglectful and fickle Mr. Mc- 
 72]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 Kackney until in an evil moment he happened 
 to meet my orchestral barber in the village 
 tavern. To his fellow-countryman the peas 
 ant unfolded his tale of deception and heart 
 ache. They lingered over many glasses of 
 beer and the barber became criminally confi 
 dential. He began to brag of his own import 
 ance in my household and hinted that upon his 
 skill and fidelity hinged the success of the most 
 important undertaking of my life. 
 
 The bearded one listened with more inter 
 est and fairly pricked up his ears when the 
 barber became loquacious enough to tell him, 
 " Every day I must trim the whiskers of the 
 twenty-two visiting gentlemen exactly just so 
 or there will be ten thousand devils to 
 pay." 
 
 Hans Bumphauser objected that it was a 
 sin to trim the whiskers at all, and that no 
 sane man would ever lay hand upon a whisker 
 except in kindness. But the barber sighed: 
 
 " Ach, but it is the music. I have not heard 
 the wonderful music, but I have seen it every 
 day." 
 
 [73
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 Bumphauser wanted to know what the 
 music had to do with a barber, and the latter 
 was rash enough to say: 
 
 " It is the grand concert to-morrow, stupid. 
 But if I do not do my duty right, the concert 
 will be ruined. And Herr von McKackney 
 will die of a broken heart." 
 
 Of course the misguided peasant was keenly 
 interested by this time, and he had heard 
 enough to make him thirst for more informa 
 tion. The German farm-hand with whom he 
 lodged had been previously summoned to the 
 music-room to help move some heavy machin 
 ery, and he had watched the barber at work 
 with his tuning. By persistent questioning 
 Hans Bumphauser began to piece together 
 a working theory of revenge. In short, his 
 conclusion must have been that if in some way 
 he could tamper with the whiskers of the 
 twenty-two guests he would deal a mortal 
 blow at the hated Herr von McKackney. 
 
 Ignorant of any menacing danger I was 
 preparing to welcome the distinguished com 
 pany of scientists and musicians. They were 
 74]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 to arrive for dinner Saturday night. In the 
 evening I planned to deliver a lecture to pave 
 the way for the demonstration, and on Sun 
 day morning they would listen to the first 
 concert of the Hirsute Orchestra. Fearing 
 to expose myself to baseless ridicule I had 
 so worded my invitations that my guests 
 should not learn the nature of my discovery 
 until I had a chance to explain it on scientific 
 grounds. 
 
 As was to be expected, they came in min 
 gled moods of doubt and curiosity, but I flat 
 ter myself that before the dinner was over they 
 had begun to consider the journey well worth 
 while. After coffee and cigars in the library 
 I requested their attention and began to read 
 from a roll of manuscript. The savants were 
 interested from the start. The originality of 
 my views made them breathless, but I took 
 them step by step from one unassailable prem 
 ise to an equally sound conclusion. The first 
 mention of " Whiskers " evoked a ripple of 
 levity, but this was soon smothered in hearty 
 applause as I began to describe the experi- 
 
 [75
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 ments which had led to the assembling of the 
 Hirsute Orchestra. Then I laid my manu 
 script aside and announced in ringing tones: 
 
 " You may think me a madman, gentlemen, 
 but to-morrow morning you shall listen to the 
 music which I have tried to describe. You 
 shall hear for yourselves and be convinced. 
 You have been very patient, and your reward 
 shall be in proportion. Gentlemen, the Hir 
 sute Orchestra is an accomplished fact 
 and - " 
 
 There was a sound of clattering footsteps 
 in the hall. I paused and waited, and an in 
 stant later Hank Wilkins burst into the library 
 like a tornado. He was breathless from run 
 ning, and his eyes were fairly popping from 
 his head. I had never seen him so agitated 
 and I knew that he bore some dreadful tidings. 
 Even after years my memory is stamped with 
 the words which he hoarsely stammered: 
 
 " The Hirsute Orchestra is busted all to 
 Hell, Commodore. There s no repairin dam 
 ages. It s a total wreck." 
 
 The guests rose in confusion while I swayed 
 76]
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 in my tracks and could only murmur in a far 
 away voice that I scarcely recognized as my 
 own: 
 
 "Explain yourself, Wilkins. For Heaven s 
 sake, pull yourself together. I I don t 
 understand." 
 
 My devoted assistant snatched a decanter 
 from a table and hurried to my side as he 
 cried: 
 
 " Throw in a stiff one, sir. You ll need it. 
 It was the prize Dutchman, sir, the Bump- 
 hauser lad, that came by cable. He was sore 
 about something and he ran amuck with a big 
 pair of scissors just now in the dormitory. 
 Some of the ^Eolians had turned in early and 
 was asleep. He hacked at their whiskers right 
 and left. The devastation was appalling. 
 Great handfuls chopped out of em. Then he 
 broke into the smoking room. Four of the 
 priceless Middle Octaves were playing poker. 
 Before they could get steerage way the whis 
 kers of two of em was in ghastly ruins." 
 
 I fell into an armchair and gasped for air. 
 I could not find speech, and while the company 
 
 [77
 
 ~. 
 IS 
 
 |
 
 The Tragedy of the Peasant s Revenge 
 
 stood as if rooted to the floor Wilkins con 
 cluded : 
 
 " And while I was running to the scene I 
 met old man Rust and Peter O Dwyer stag- 
 gerin home from the village. Their whiskers 
 had gone by the board, decks swept as clean as 
 the back of my hand, sir. The Bumphauser 
 pirate had loaded them with booze and gashed 
 their whiskers off in the back room of the 
 tavern. There ain t a whole Octave left, and 
 the Hirsute Orchestra is fit for nothing but 
 the junk-shop." 
 
 " Did you capture the infernal scoundrel?" 
 I finally managed to gasp. 
 
 " He s bound and gagged in the stable, sir, 
 and I left orders to hang him in his own whis 
 kers if he moved an eyelash." 
 
 With sympathetic accord my guests stole 
 into the dining room, and as soon as possible 
 I begged them to excuse me for the night. As 
 I fairly tottered into the hall, leaning on the 
 arms of my faithful Wilkins I said to him : 
 
 " I want to forget it all for a while. It is 
 the most crushing blow of my long life. We 
 
 [79
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 must go away from here at once. Engage 
 passage on the next steamer bound for Eu 
 rope. Thank Heaven, Wilkins, your own 
 peerless Titian beard was spared." 
 
 80]
 
 THE EPISODE OF 
 THE SENTIMENTAL ANARCHIST
 
 CHAPTER IV 
 
 THE EPISODE OF THE SENTIMENTAL 
 ANARCHIST 
 
 THE Atlantic liner Hoch Der Kaiser was 
 two days out from New York when 
 my indefatigable assistant, Hank Wilkins, 
 appeared in the smoking-room door and beck 
 oned to me to join him on deck. I shook my 
 head in a negative manner, for I was playing 
 poker with several American trust magnates 
 who had shown themselves to be a jovial com 
 pany of philanthropists and most congenial 
 companions. After gaining control of most 
 of the food supply and transportation systems 
 of their own country they were en route for 
 Europe to attempt the formation of world 
 wide monopolies in pickles, beer, coffins, flour 
 and so on. 
 
 Presently Wilkins returned to the doorway 
 and beckoned with more emphasis than before. 
 
 [83
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 He was fidgeting with impatience and knowing 
 that he would not venture to call me for a 
 trifling matter I left the game and followed 
 him on deck. He begged my pardon and 
 said: 
 
 " You might regret it if I didn t tell you at 
 once, sir. But you have been after it for three 
 years, and I never saw a finer - " 
 
 " Not the Full-blooming Aurora pattern? " 
 I gasped with a flash of intuition. " You 
 don t mean that you have discovered a speci 
 men of the rarest varieties of the Human 
 Whisker?" 
 
 " I haven t examined them close," he 
 replied, " but it looks that way, sir. You 
 recall that imperfect imitation you have at 
 home, sir the Hall Caine portrait in the 
 billiard room? Well, that looks like a deck 
 swab beside what I ve found." 
 
 I was overjoyed and declared that I must 
 see it at once. Wilkins chuckled with pleas 
 ure at my eagerness and as he led me aft he 
 explained that the whiskers belonged to a 
 second-cabin passenger, who looked like a Rus- 
 84]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 sian. Wilkins had tried in vain to scrape his 
 acquaintance, for the fellow seemed so nervous 
 and wild-eyed that he fled from all overtures. 
 In fact, so Wilkins informed me, " he flocked 
 by himself as if he was afraid of something." 
 We lingered at the rail that barred the pas 
 sage to the second cabin, and scanned the 
 long row of steamer chairs. Wilkins was 
 confident that the Russian would take a turn 
 on deck before dinner, and said that when he 
 walked it was with a head-long gait and inco 
 herent mutterings to himself. 
 
 A little later a man of singular appearance 
 emerged from the deck house aft and crossing 
 to the vessel s side stood glaring at the inter 
 minable carpet of blue water. His figure was 
 slender and slouching, his attire well cared for 
 but shabby, and that which made his otherwise 
 commonplace aspect conspicuous was the 
 framing of his features. Beard, whiskers, 
 mustache, there were no lines of demarcation. 
 The luxuriant and rayonnant growth encir 
 cled and fairly obscured his lineaments. It 
 was almost as if he wore a mask, but such 
 
 [85
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 a mask. As the sunset glow became enmeshed 
 in this peerless decoration, its forest of tendrils 
 was illumined and the man s .face loomed in a 
 kind of golden aurora. 
 
 I silently shook the hand of Wilkins and 
 told him that if Hall Caine could behold this 
 peerless specimen he would shave for very 
 humiliation. There was only one thing to do. 
 I must have the Russian s portrait painted by 
 the finest artist in Europe. 
 
 " We ll land him if we can get near enough 
 to put salt on his whiskers," was Wilkins 
 
 gloomy comment. " He s a d n shy 
 
 bird." 
 
 I told Wilkins that he simply must scrape 
 some kind of an acquaintance in order to pave 
 the way for me. If necessary, I would have 
 his berth shifted to the second cabin. He was 
 to stick to the Full-blooming Aurora by night 
 and day. The man could not run away on 
 shipboard, and Wilkins had never failed me. 
 Late that night he reported that the coveted 
 stranger had suddenly and violently fallen in 
 love with a pretty English girl in the second 
 86]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 " The coveted stranger had suddenly and violently fallen 
 in love." 
 
 cabin, and forsaking his eccentric solitude, 
 had been in the charmer s company for 
 several hours. Wilkins advanced the theory 
 that this sentimental attack might have been 
 responsible for his singular actions; that while 
 talking to himself and waving his arms he had 
 been trying to screw his courage up to the 
 
 [8?
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 point of declaring his passion. Wilkins had 
 not talked to him, but explained : 
 
 " I made a date with the girl to play shuffle- 
 board in the morning. I can make easier sail 
 ing with the petticoats, sir." 
 
 Mr. Hank Wilkins of the Titian beard 
 had a way with him and at noon next day he 
 was snugly tucked in a steamer chair by the 
 side of the rosy English girl. He had art 
 fully lured her to a secluded corner where 
 they were screened from observation behind a 
 huge ventilator. His attractive companion 
 seemed to welcome this isolation, and she was 
 frank enough to say after listening to the con 
 versation of the versatile Wilkins: 
 
 " It s a relief to get away from that dotty 
 person with the blond fringes, I m sure. 
 Fawncy, he flopped down on his knees to me 
 this morning, right on deck. He almost 
 frightens me." 
 
 Wilkins gallantly assured her that this 
 kind of evidence would convince any jury 
 of the Russian s sanity, but she went on 
 to say: 
 88]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 " He talks very odd and violent most of 
 the time. And he keeps on hinting about 
 some awful disaster that is almost due to 
 happen." 
 
 Wilkins expressed the fervent hope that the 
 disaster might not involve his whiskers, and 
 the girl became more confidential: 
 
 " When he spoke to me lawst night I felt 
 like screamin . But I didn t dare not to be 
 nice to him, you know. He is an anarchist 
 by trade. He told me so. Fawncy me an 
 anarchist s bride. And he proposed to me 
 twice this morning. I m sure he has some 
 thing dreadful on his mind. He passed me 
 to-day muttering, too late, too late. My 
 
 God, I never dreamed I missed the 
 
 rest of it, but it was right out of a melo 
 drama." 
 
 Just then the anarchist stepped from be 
 yond the ventilator and shot a murderous 
 glance at Wilkins as he slouched past. Wil 
 kins swore to me that he could hear the man s 
 teeth grinding like a coffee mill and that his 
 pockets were bulging with bombs destined to 
 
 [89
 
 Archibald McKackney 
 
 be hurled at his dashing rival. When these 
 reports were conveyed to me I perceived that 
 the demon of jealousy had stepped in to 
 thwart any plans that Wilkins might have for 
 capturing the Full-blooming Aurora trophy. 
 I decided to make the attempt on my own 
 account, and deeming all weapons fair with 
 such a prize at stake, I was ready to confess 
 myself a brother anarchist on the instant. At 
 the first opportunity I strolled aft with Wil 
 kins. We leaned against the rail within ear 
 shot of the glowering Russian, whose tragic 
 pose was evidently intended to impress the 
 English girl. She was playing deck quoits 
 with several passengers and her outlandish 
 adorer had nothing better to do than to listen 
 to me as I vehemently addressed Wilkins : 
 
 " Monstrous ! Criminal ! The predatory 
 rich, the fat-headed princelings on tinsel 
 thrones in short, all human parasites ought 
 to be obliterated. Look at that bloated group 
 of trust kings in the smoking room. My dear 
 sir, we are their serfs. All government is a 
 crime. All wealth is - " 
 90]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 Wilkins smote the rail with his fist and 
 burst out: 
 
 " Yes, siree. Three fingers of gun-cotton 
 with a chaser of dynamite ud do the Kaiser 
 a whole lot of good. And as for King Ed 
 ward, somebody ought to jolt him clean off his 
 perch. And them dog-robbin trust barons 
 aboard, why, for two cents I d bump them off 
 to glory myself." 
 
 The Russian had turned and was listening 
 to this heated dialogue with open satisfaction. 
 Wilkins found an errand forward, and left 
 me to stare at the sea in a gloomy reverie, 
 while the stranger was edging nearer. After 
 a time Wilkins from afar off beheld us two 
 desperate characters addressing each other 
 with animated gestures. In this fashion I 
 became an acquaintance of the Russian and 
 learned that his name was Pebotsky. We 
 passed most of the afternoon together. I 
 accepted his invitation to dine with him in the 
 second cabin. By this time he was calling me 
 his friend. 
 
 In the evening we sat in a lonely corner on
 
 jf. Archibald McKackney 
 
 the deck, and I had totally forgotten his whis 
 kers, for Pebotsky was a maddened fiend in 
 human form. I dared not leave him until his 
 tale was done. This shabby, wild-eyed anar 
 chist whom I had laughed at from afar was 
 become a hideous menace, a factor of life and 
 death. And he had embraced me as a com 
 rade ! To such awful depths had the love of 
 art led me! 
 
 I am sure that my ruddy cheek must have 
 become a mottled gray before he was done 
 with me. I know that when I started for my 
 room my knees were trembling violently and 
 my breathing was no more than a series of 
 gasps. We had been talking for hours when 
 he decided to make me his confidant. Heaven 
 knows why he did not keep his infernal 
 secret to himself. I surmised that he was 
 almost insane from mental torture and could 
 not hold in. I had lied and perjured myself 
 to such an extent that he had accepted 
 me as one of the blood-stained elect of all 
 besotted anarchists. When he asked me if 
 I valued my life I snapped my fingers and 
 92]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 told him not a tinker s damn, and that I would 
 gladly be blown up in sections if it were in 
 company with a crowned head or a capi 
 talist. In fact, I believe I swore I was thirst 
 ing for just such a chance. It was all for 
 the sake of his whiskers, may Heaven for 
 give me ! 
 
 To pass over this painful recollection as 
 hastily as possible, I won the madman s im 
 plicit confidence. It seems that while ashore 
 he had got wind of the intended sailing of Jor 
 dan and Packard and the other trust magnates 
 aboard. As he figured it, here was the chance 
 of the age to bag most of the arch-demons of 
 commercial oppression at one fell swoop. 
 Nothing like it was likely ever to come his 
 way again. He had invented a most damna 
 bly clever infernal machine, and somehow had 
 managed to smuggle two of them into the 
 holds of the ship, concealed in harmless look 
 ing packages of freight. 
 
 Try to picture my emotions when Pebotsky 
 calmly informed me that both infernal ma 
 chines were timed to explode on the morrow. 
 
 [93
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 They would infallibly blow the Hoch Der 
 Kaiser into a million pieces. 
 
 Pebotsky s own presence on board led me to 
 think him a colossal and picturesque liar, but 
 he snatched this hope of escape from me. 
 He protested that he was not only anxious, 
 but eager, to become a martyr and that the 
 removal of six trust magnates in one operation 
 would be such a glorious monument that it 
 would be wicked to let the chance slip. Be 
 sides he wanted to see how his infernal 
 machines worked. The inconceivable ass did 
 not have an atom of common sense. Up to 
 this period of the voyage matters had been 
 running smoothly for Pebotsky. Then he fell 
 in love with the pretty English girl, Miss 
 Fletcher, and she knocked all his calculations 
 into a cocked hat. He absolutely raved about 
 her to me. He had come to the conclusion 
 that she was his soul s affinity and various 
 other volcanic tommy-rot, and therefore he 
 did not want in the least to blow her up or 
 be blown up himself. He told me that he was 
 now willing to spare the trust magnates until 
 94]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 they got ashore and then his friends would 
 " bomb " them one at a time. 
 
 Pebotsky was fairly wild to save the ship, 
 but he could not. It was too late. These two 
 infernal machines of his had been stowed some 
 where at the bottom of thousands of tons of 
 miscellaneous cargo. He wouldn t know the 
 boxes if he saw them. A friend of his had 
 looked after shipping them. He was respon 
 sible only for their confounded insides. Even 
 if the crew should be set to work to dump 
 every package of cargo into the sea they could 
 not have half of it out of the doomed ship 
 in the next twenty-four hours. And the first 
 machine had been timed to go off at noon 
 sharp. He said that they exploded themselves 
 by means of chronometer attachments. 
 
 I listened to this awful narrative in speech 
 less horror while Pebotsky raved and tore his 
 hair and tried to think of some way of saving 
 Miss Fletcher and himself. I managed to 
 express my surprise that he should have been 
 SO ready to blow up a thousand innocent 
 souls to bag his trust magnates, but. Pebotsky 
 
 [95
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 was as inconsistent as the average infatuated 
 lover. 
 
 As soon as I had left him I determined to 
 seek the captain of the ship. I was ready to 
 betray Pebotsky, for it made no difference 
 whether we all knew it or not. I could see no 
 way out of the incredibly harrowing situation. 
 I got as far as Wilkins stateroom and then 
 my strength left me. I roused him and tot 
 tered inside and collapsed on his divan. He 
 heard me out with his unfailing sang froid 
 and took it upon himself to find the captain. 
 Wilkins could see no hope of escape unless 
 the crew and passengers should be ordered 
 into the boats and the ill-fated liner aban 
 doned to her doom. 
 
 It required much argument before the offi 
 cer on deck could be persuaded to waken Cap 
 tain Zimmer. The commander of the Hoch 
 Der Kaiser was short-tempered and irritable 
 when he confronted Wilkins, who stood by his 
 guns, however, until the amazing tale was 
 done. 
 
 " Send to the second cabin and fetch me a 
 96]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 passenger named Pebotsky," the captain 
 roared through a speaking tube to the officer 
 on the bridge. " If he don t come put the 
 irons on him. Mein Gott, man, do you know 
 vat you vas saying just now? I should lock 
 you up as a lunatic, but I know your boss, 
 Herr McKackney. I have been at his house 
 in America. He is sensible, only for this 
 whisker business of his. So we blow up twice 
 to-morrow? Once was enough." 
 
 When the anarchist was dragged into the 
 captain s cabin he brushed his rude-fisted 
 escort aside and struck a heroic attitude as he 
 shouted : 
 
 " Ha, ha ! It is all true. I am glad my fat 
 friend McKackney has betrayed me. I glory 
 in your anguish. It is I that makes you suffer. 
 It is the last night on earth for you and " 
 
 " Dot is plenty from you, Pebotsky," thun 
 dered the captain. " If you don t own up 
 quick dot you vas a crazy liar I vill have you 
 chucked overboard." 
 
 Thereupon this devil of a fellow fairly 
 begged the captain to throw him overboard. 
 
 [97
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 "Struck a heroic attitude as he shouted." 
 
 It hastened the glorious end by only a few 
 hours, he declared, and all he asked was a 
 chance to say farewell to his " soul s affinity." 
 The skipper was nonplussed and threatened to 
 keep Pebotsky in irons and throw his soul s 
 affinity overboard unless he produced his hid 
 den infernal machines. The anarchist flung 
 himself at the captain s feet and sobbed out 
 that if there was any way to save the ship he 
 would do his share, and explained that his own 
 98]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 change of heart had come too late to avert the 
 total destruction of the Hoch Der Kaiser. 
 
 Even that splendid old sea-dog, Captain 
 Zimmer, was agitated and distraught. If he 
 should take it for granted that Pebotsky was 
 crazy and had dreamed his infernal machines, 
 then it was not going to be pleasant waiting 
 until noon next day to find out whether the ver 
 dict were right or wrong. Captain Zimmer 
 ordered two seamen to lock Pebotsky in the 
 ship s prison, and told Wilkins that he must 
 have time to think things over. The two 
 seamen who lugged Pebotsky from below had 
 overheard his ravings. They told their com 
 rades, who in turn passed the dreadful secret 
 along to the stewards, and thence it leaked 
 among a few of the passengers. 
 
 Before breakfast next morning the several 
 presidents of the most powerful American 
 trusts waited upon the captain. Their spokes 
 man declared in a shaky voice (as overheard 
 by Wilkins) : 
 
 " If this ship is to be blown up at noon to 
 day, we are prepared to buy the cargo out- 
 
 [99
 
 y. Archibald McKackney 
 
 right, provided it can be thrown overboard in 
 time." 
 
 Another of the group exclaimed: 
 
 " We have subscribed a purse of a million 
 dollars to bribe the anarchist to call it off." 
 
 A third broke in to say: 
 
 " And we will buy the ship on the spot and 
 give you command of her. And then we will 
 order you to desert her with the passengers 
 and crew as quick as the Lord will let you." 
 
 Captain Zimmer set his jaw hard and told 
 the magnates: 
 
 " It vas you gentlemen that started the per 
 formance. Why didn t you stay ashore before 
 you come aboard to make this anarchist go 
 crazy? Now your money will buy you noth 
 ings from me. The ship is being searched, 
 all suspicious cargo hoisted on deck, and I can 
 do nothing more. It is unheard of, gentle 
 men, that a vessel in perfect order should be 
 abandoned at sea. My men have been work 
 ing in the holds since midnight. Maybe your 
 jackpots will be raised through the skylight 
 at noon, eh? " 
 100]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 As the morning wore on, the excitement, 
 confusion, and painful suspense on deck baffled 
 description. The captain of the Hoch Der 
 Kaiser had no more time for his passengers. 
 His crew was on the edge of a panic-stricken 
 mutiny, and the officers were ordered to shoot 
 the first deserter from his post. Men and 
 women fought their way to the captain s deck 
 to plead that he take to the life-boats. Pebot- 
 sky had been released and was in the hold in 
 charge of a squad of seamen, his ears strained 
 to detect the tell-tale clicking of hidden clock 
 work. 
 
 I had made my will before sailing, be 
 queathing the McKackney Whisker Collec 
 tion to the American Society for the Promo 
 tion of Curious Science. Other passengers 
 with less forethought were flocking around a 
 lawyer in the dining saloon who was rapidly 
 writing wills and sealing them up in bottles 
 to be tossed overboard at the last moment. 
 
 As the time crept nearer and nearer noon, 
 the grimy men from the engine and fire rooms 
 began to pour on deck. They could not be 
 
 [101
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 kept under, and it was all the officers could 
 do to head off their rush for the boats. The 
 jarring thud of the screws ceased. The Hoch 
 Der Kaiser rolled idly on the long swell as 
 if waiting for the unspeakable moment. 
 
 Exactly on the stroke of noon the huge ves 
 sel shivered from stem to stern as if she had 
 run on a reef. There was a dull, muffled sound 
 from somewhere under the forward hatch, and 
 the air was filled with flying fragments of tim 
 ber and shattered cargo. An instant later it 
 seemed to rain cans of corned beef, tongue 
 and deviled ham. Then followed a torrent 
 of potatoes, showers of them, hurled aloft 
 with their splintered barrels, and in their 
 descent fairly bombarding the fear-stricken 
 and cowering passengers. I was struck on the 
 head by a juicy missile and sent reeling to 
 the deck, and as in a dream I heard Hank 
 Wilkins observe with his customary hearti 
 ness: 
 
 " It s what you might call an earthquake 
 accompanied by violent showers of corn-beef 
 hash." 
 
 102]
 
 "It seemed to rain cans of corned beef, tongue and 
 deviled ham."
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 He assisted me forward where we peered 
 down the devastated hatchway. A squad of 
 seamen was already hurrying into the hold 
 with lines of hose, the captain at their head. 
 Before long he sent the first officer to report 
 that no lives had been lost. A hole was blown 
 in the ship s bottom, but her bulkheads were 
 still intact, and there was no danger of her 
 sinking. The force of the explosion had been 
 broken by a thousand barrels of potatoes and 
 several hundred tons of canned meats that 
 must have been piled on top of the first infer 
 nal machine. The joyful passengers flocked 
 about the trust magnates, and cheered as they 
 singled out the respective presidents of the 
 beef and potato monopolies. 
 
 " You have saved our lives," they chorused. 
 " Hurrah for the trusts." 
 
 Pebotsky was led past them just then, a 
 sailor clutching him by the ear. An expres 
 sion of poignant anguish convulsed the pallid 
 features of the anarchist. I heard him hiss 
 between his teeth : 
 
 " I would destroy these monsters of capital, 
 104]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 and I have made heroes of them. Now I wish 
 to die. But there will be yet another explo 
 sion in one hour." 
 
 This escape from destruction had put new 
 heart into the ship s company. With furious 
 exertion they toiled in the afterholds, risking 
 their lives like men with the hangman s rope 
 around their necks. Fifteen minutes before 
 the second explosion was scheduled to occur, 
 a hoarse cheer rose from the open hatch abaft 
 the first-class smoking room. It was lustily 
 echoed on deck. Strong men, and men not 
 so strong, burst into tears and were un 
 ashamed. Women were hysterical with joy 
 and embraced utter strangers. Little chil 
 dren scampered to and fro with shrill and 
 gladsome shouts. No one waited for a 
 report from below. This roar of exultation 
 could mean nothing less than the discovery of 
 the second infernal machine. 
 
 A few minutes later, while all hands waited 
 with incredibly painful emotions, a cargo 
 boom slowly hoisted from the depth of the 
 hold a heavy packing-case hastily wrapped 
 
 [105
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 and cushioned with pieces of burlap. It 
 swayed skyward, and then swung to and fro 
 and refused to budge. The wire cables had 
 somehow jammed in their sheaves. 
 
 Groans burst from the paling lips of those 
 who stood and watched the dreadful menace 
 suspended above the deck. The donkey en 
 gine puffed and strained. The taut cables 
 twanged like huge bow-strings, but in vain. 
 Brave seamen ran up the mast and boom like 
 monkeys and madly strove to release the 
 tackle. 
 
 There was no hoisting or lowering the 
 packing-case. The seamen dared not cut away 
 the fastenings. It seemed impossible to avert 
 a disaster as unlocked for as it was imminent. 
 The frenzied onlookers fancied they could 
 hear the inexorable ticking of the mechanism 
 in the packing-case. Men stood as if rooted 
 in their tracks, fascinated, hypnotized with 
 horror. Several held their watches and shud 
 dered as they saw the minute hands steal past 
 six, five, four, three, minutes of the hour. 
 
 Then the ropes began slowly to slip through 
 106]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 the sheaves. Inch by inch the infernal 
 machine descended toward the vessel s rail. 
 Twenty men rushed to be ready to cast it 
 loose. As it swung within a few feet of the 
 deck, a slender, slouching man broke away 
 from his captors with a shrill cry. Before 
 they could overtake him he had reached the 
 side of the deck, and leaped upon the rail with 
 arms outstretched toward the swaying pack 
 ing-case. The singular abundance of his 
 golden whiskers partly hid the expression of 
 his face, but those who were nearest him 
 said that he was weeping. The laboring sea 
 men were absorbed in a frenzy of haste. They 
 paid no heed to this strange figure on the rail. 
 With a mighty heave they pushed the packing- 
 case clear of the vessel s side. 
 
 I sprang forward, forgetting my own peril, 
 for the anarchist was waving farewell to the 
 pretty English girl with a gesture of tragic 
 despair. I was bent upon saving the Full- 
 blooming Aurora from the sea. But as the 
 infernal machine surged from its fastenings, 
 the Sentimental Anarchist leaped forward and 
 
 [107
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 plunged headlong, so nearly in company with 
 his diabolical device that they made but one 
 splash. 
 
 I glanced at my watch. It was one o clock 
 to the second. A huge column of water shot 
 from the surface of the ocean and fell back 
 in jeweled cascades. A subdued roar came 
 from the depths and the steamer trembled. 
 As if to testify to the genius of its creator, 
 the second infernal machine had exploded pre 
 cisely at the time appointed. 
 
 I was filled with the most profound grati 
 tude and thanksgiving for our merciful pres 
 ervation. But as I stared over the side and 
 viewed the foaming whirlpool into which 
 Pebotsky had vanished, I felt that there was 
 one bitter drop in my cup. His whiskers had 
 perished with him and I mourned the loss of 
 the noblest specimen of the Full-blooming 
 Aurora pattern that in all probability existed 
 on earth. 
 
 While I tried to console myself with the 
 reflection that there is no joy without some 
 sorrow, the gusty wind wafted a bit of some- 
 108]
 
 Episode of the Sentimental Anarchist 
 
 thing like gossamer from the upper air and 
 left it on the deck at my feet. I picked it up. 
 It was a tiny strand of golden hair, a frag 
 ment of the peerless whiskers of the late 
 Pebotsky. Almost reverently I placed the 
 souvenir in my notebook. It was all that 
 remained of the Sentimental Anarchist. 
 
 [109
 
 THE TALE OF 
 THE WANDERING BOOK-CASE
 
 CHAPTER V 
 
 THE TALE OF THE WANDERING 
 BOOK-CASE 
 
 (As Told in the Smoking Room of the Hoch 
 Der Kaiser on the Last Night at Sea.) 
 
 AT one time I was keenly interested in 
 collecting, as a sort of side issue, locks 
 or clippings from the whiskers of famous men. 
 It was a pursuit which I later forsook in favor 
 of my more valuable and elaborate collections 
 of whisker portraits, but in the course of 
 several years I had acquired fragments of the 
 beards or whiskers of nearly every man of 
 national importance at home and abroad. 
 Some were given me by their owners, others 
 were obtained by bribing their barbers, while 
 a few came to me by means not so scrupulous. 
 I was unhappy, however, because my collec 
 tion lacked a souvenir snipped from the royal
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 adornment of a certain illustrious ruler of a 
 European state whose name I must withhold. 
 Suffice it to say that he was generally acknowl 
 edged to wear one of the most magnificent 
 beards in Christendom. Diplomacy and in 
 trigue had failed me and I had about given 
 up this specimen as hopeless. 
 
 While traveling on the Continent I was one 
 day filled with excitement to behold this illus 
 trious sovereign enter a first-class railway car 
 riage in my own train. He was accompanied 
 by a military officer of high rank, and I 
 guessed that he was making a journey incog. 
 I could not help fingering a pair of folding 
 scissors in my waistcoat pocket, but of course 
 I was not mad enough to attempt an open 
 assault upon the coveted trophy. 
 
 Presently the train pulled out from the 
 station and there I sat with only the walls of 
 a compartment carriage between me and the 
 prize that I would have given a handsome 
 fortune to possess. I racked my brains to 
 devise some scheme for making the acquain 
 tance of His Majesty, but my mission was 
 114]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 so delicate and even insulting that I could 
 only writhe in baffled helplessness. 
 
 At length the train halted at a wayside 
 station and there seemed to be some trouble 
 on the tracks ahead. I summoned the guard 
 to unlock my door, and stepped on the plat 
 form to stretch my legs. A minute or so later 
 I saw the illustrious potentate impatiently 
 throw up his window and poke his head out 
 to glare to and fro as if seeking the cause of 
 our detention. His noble beard fell outside 
 in a torrent and waggled in an imposing man 
 ner. While I was staring at it with envious 
 eyes, the guard signaled the order to go ahead. 
 I was about to hurry into my compartment 
 when a startling outcry arose from the ad 
 joining carriage. I turned and beheld a truly 
 amazing spectacle. While his majesty was 
 withdrawing his head from the open window 
 the sash had dropped with great force. The 
 end of his beard was caught and held as in 
 a vise and almost a foot of it hung over the 
 window-sill outside. 
 
 The helpless prisoner was roaring for
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 assistance and beating the glass with his fists. 
 I saw the chance of a lifetime. The train was 
 in motion, and swinging myself on the foot 
 board, I whisked out my scissors, and with 
 a lightning sweep of the arm, snipped a gener 
 ous handful from the end of the captive beard. 
 It was hideous lese majestic, but my ardor 
 reckoned not with consequences. Never shall 
 I forget the murderous wrath that flamed in 
 the countenance of my august prey as he 
 gnashed his teeth at me through the window 
 pane. 
 
 It was all over in a second or two. I knew 
 that the king s companion would stop the train 
 if his release were not instantly effected. Tuck 
 ing my trophy in an inside pocket I abandoned 
 my luggage and ran swiftly across the plat 
 form, through the station, and into the traffic- 
 crowded street. Leaping into an empty cab 
 I threw a gold piece at the driver, ordered him 
 to drive like the devil for nowhere in particu 
 lar, and was borne swiftly away from the 
 scene of my remarkable achievement. 
 
 I shall pass over the incidents of my flight 
 116]
 
 "Snipped a generous handful from the end of the captive 
 beard."
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 and escape. Thanks to a lavish use of money 
 and a frequent change of disguise I succeeded 
 in passing the frontier, and within three days 
 was crossing the English Channel. The Euro 
 pean newspapers were ringing with garbled 
 reports of the assault of an anarchist or luna 
 tic upon the person of a certain illustrious 
 ruler, but none of them connected the das 
 tardly incident with the American tourist, J. 
 Archibald McKackney. 
 
 At that time there was a keen rivalry in 
 this field of collecting between a New York 
 man named Pillsover and myself. He was, 
 in fact, no more than an imitator, and had 
 begun to seek the whiskers of celebrities 
 through hearing of my success. He was a 
 friend of mine, in a way, and I had often 
 entertained him at my New England country 
 place. After my return from abroad I asked 
 him down to view the trophy shorn from the 
 chin of the European ruler in the manner 
 already described. He tried to conceal his 
 consuming envy, but I could see that he was 
 wretchedly unhappy. His two most notable 
 118]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 captures were totally eclipsed. One of them 
 had been purchased from the barber of a petty 
 Hapsburg prince, and the other begged from 
 an American cabinet minister. 
 
 We spent the evening among my collections 
 in the library and when we were ready to go 
 upstairs, I went to replace the priceless trophy 
 in my fireproof vault. The steel doors had 
 been closed by my secretary, however, who 
 took it for granted that I had finished my 
 business with it. The time lock had been set 
 to open next morning, so that I was barred 
 out. 
 
 I had been examining a volume of a costly 
 edition of a standard author, and one of the 
 books lay open on the library table. Without 
 more ado I tucked the parchment envelope 
 containing the royal strands of whiskers be 
 tween the leaves of this book which I restored 
 to its case, intending to look after it in the 
 morning. 
 
 My friend, and rival, Pillsover, was com 
 pelled to take the midnight train to the city 
 and we parted on the best of terms. Little 
 
 [119
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 did I dream that when next we met it would be 
 as implacable enemies. 
 
 Early in the morning I was aroused by a 
 telegram demanding my immediate presence 
 in Boston on a matter of large financial im 
 portance. The news was so disturbing that the 
 recollection of the trophy hidden in the book 
 case was wholly driven from my thoughts. In 
 fact I did not recall it until my return late 
 in the afternoon of the following day. Then 
 I hastened to the library, withdrew the volume 
 which I had been reading two nights before, 
 and searched it with some small excitement. 
 
 No one but a collector can imagine my emo 
 tions when I discovered that the parchment 
 envelope was missing. I ran through every 
 one of the thirty odd volumes with furious 
 haste. Tearing my hair and fairly breathless 
 I summoned my secretary. His tidings added 
 fresh fuel to my wrath and consternation. I 
 should explain that this subscription edition 
 of books, with their handsomely carved case, 
 had been shipped to me on approval. 
 Through a blunder of the publisher a binding 
 120]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 slightly different from the style selected by me 
 had been sent. I had noticed the error and 
 intended to write about it at my leisure. 
 
 In the meantime, however, the publisher 
 had discovered the mistake, and during my 
 absence in Boston he had sent an agent to 
 my house with the other set of books to 
 replace those already in my possession. My 
 secretary explained to me that the agent had 
 taken the wrong edition back to New York 
 with him, and placed the new set of books in 
 their case in my library. Knowing that I 
 desired to have this change made, my secre 
 tary had made no objections. I am afraid that 
 my language was shocking, but the provoca 
 tion was immense. Here was my parchment 
 envelope, containing the gem of my hirsute 
 collection, whisked off to Heaven knew where, 
 by a misguided wretch of a book agent. 
 
 When I became calmer I asked if anything 
 else had happened during my unlucky absence. 
 I was informed that Pillsover had called on 
 the previous day, just as the publisher s agent 
 was driving away with the first or wrong set 
 
 [121
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 of books. He had recognized the agent as a 
 salesman from Vellum & Co., and had shown 
 considerable curiosity concerning his errand. 
 
 " I explained the circumstances," confessed 
 my secretary, " and Mr. Pillsover asked me if 
 you knew of the transfer of books. I told him 
 that you had to go to Boston without a chance 
 to attend to any business at home. Then he 
 wanted to know whether you had left me any 
 special instructions about the collections. I 
 told him I had not seen you that morning. 
 Then he spent some little time in the library, 
 made some inquiries about the time lock of the 
 vault, and said he was thinking of getting one 
 like it." 
 
 A few more questions and I had fathomed 
 the purpose of the conscienceless Pillsover. 
 He had returned to try to secure, by trade or 
 purchase, the Sovereign s Whisker. A col 
 lector myself, I could imagine him as passing 
 a restless night tortured with the desire to 
 win from me my prize. He knew where I 
 had stowed the trophy overnight, and he was 
 able to make a shrewd guess that it still 
 122]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 reposed in the book. As soon as I had pumped 
 my secretary dry, my surmise amounted to a 
 conviction that, unknown to me, the book 
 along with its fellows had been carted away 
 to the publisher and that Pillsover had fol 
 lowed its trail in hot haste. 
 
 I perceived at once that if Pillsover could 
 overtake the book-case, he would abstract the 
 parchment envelope, and that I should not be 
 able to prove his guilt. In fact, there would 
 be no way of bringing home the theft to any 
 body. Pillsover had obtained the start over 
 me, but I instantly called up the New York 
 office of Vellum & Co. on the long distance 
 phone and ordered them to hold the returned 
 set of books until I could make a personal 
 examination of them. 
 
 Their reply pained me beyond words. The 
 books had been received, but there happened 
 to be so many orders on file for this particular 
 edition that they had been reshipped by ex 
 press within an hour of their arrival. I 
 demanded the address of the consignee, and 
 was told that four sets of this edition had been 
 
 [123
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 sent out in the afternoon and that it was im 
 possible to tell which of the four had been 
 returned by me. Here was the very deuce to 
 pay. I insisted upon having the four addresses 
 of the consignees. They were scattered from 
 Skowhegan, Maine, to Richmond, Virginia. 
 The publisher tried to console me over the 
 phone by adding: 
 
 " Your friend, Mr. Pillsover, called this 
 afternoon and tried to catch the books you 
 speak of. He seemed quite excited when I 
 explained the circumstances of their reship- 
 ment. He made me give him the addresses 
 of the four consignees, so we took it for 
 granted that he was acting in your behalf." 
 
 In my mind s eye I could see Pillsover start 
 ing hot-footed to run down the four sets of 
 books one by one, even waiting for their 
 arrival at the homes of their purchasers. It 
 was a desperate gamble, with odds of three to 
 one against him, but the stake was worth it. 
 There was nothing for me to do but to pursue 
 the same tactics, to chase the wandering book 
 cases over the face of the earth until I had 
 124]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 found the right one and pray that I might 
 overtake it ahead of Pillsover. 
 
 It was a most formidable task that lay be 
 fore me. I shrewdly guessed that Pillsover 
 would hurry to one of the farthest points of 
 the circuit in the hope of throwing me off the 
 scent. I therefore set out post-haste for Skow- 
 hegan, in the first stage of the spectacular race 
 for the King s Whisker. There I learned that 
 my rival had reached town ahead of me. 
 The gentleman who was expecting the box of 
 books told me that they had not yet arrived, 
 but that a man calling himself an agent of 
 Vellum & Co. had been anxiously inquiring 
 after them. 
 
 It seemed that the miserable fellow Pills- 
 over, wishing to hide his identity, had clapped 
 on a false beard and was passing himself off 
 as an agent with books to sell. He had been 
 making a pretense of a house-to-house canvass, 
 so I was told. If Pillsover intended resorting 
 to such despicable dodges as this to hide his 
 perfidy, I would fight him with his own weap 
 ons. Consulting a Skowhegan lawyer I was 
 
 [125
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 pleased to learn that there was a town ordi 
 nance forbidding all kinds of agents to vend or 
 peddle without paying a tax and securing a 
 license. The authorities were promptly in 
 formed of Pillsover s lawless operations, and 
 he was arrested and thrown into jail over 
 night. The constable caught him red-handed 
 on a doorstep with a sample book in his hands 
 so that I did not have to appear in the pro 
 ceedings. I waited until the box of books 
 arrived, was permitted to examine them, and 
 found no missing whisker. Leaving Pillsover 
 to cool his heels in the calaboose I headed for 
 Burlington, Vermont, to seek the second book 
 case on my list. 
 
 I was delayed by missing my connections, 
 and Pillsover, who was fined and released 
 next morning, must have taken another and 
 swifter route. At Burlington I found that 
 the second consignee, Jonas Harding, was an 
 eccentric old codger who lived six miles out 
 in the country. I chartered a livery rig and 
 sought his home with the greatest possible 
 expedition. About half the distance had been 
 126]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 covered when the clatter of wheels made me 
 look behind. A buggy was fairly careening 
 down the long hill, the horse at a gallop. 
 Leaning far over the dashboard and plying a 
 whip was none other than Pillsover, red in 
 the face, shouting like a madman. I give you 
 my word I hardly knew the man. He had 
 thrown prudence and self-respect to the winds. 
 He had forsaken his ambush. The capture of 
 the Royal Whisker had already obsessed him. 
 Apparently he had no thought for the future. 
 The lust of the chase had so gripped him that 
 he was ready to fight for the prize. I myself 
 had become keyed up to such a desperate state 
 of mind that I could scarcely blame him. 
 
 When he recognized me he uttered a yell 
 that curdled my blood, and urged his poor 
 beast with more fury than before. I drew my 
 whip and slashed my willing steed. I could not 
 let Pillsover beat me to the second book-case. 
 It was a break-neck race of almost three miles 
 over a rock-strewn country road, up hill and 
 down. I could only pray that my rig would 
 hold together, as we bounded and caromed 
 
 [127
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 along side by side, or within two or three 
 lengths of each other. 
 
 Half a mile from the finish Pillsover began 
 to draw ahead. He had the better horse, and 
 when he saw that I could not overtake him he 
 cast a look at me over his shoulder that was 
 positively fiendish. I had to watch him whirl 
 into Mr. Jonas Harding s yard door in a 
 cloud of dust, a good hundred yards ahead of 
 me. When I leaped from my buggy he had 
 vanished through the front door. As I ran 
 after him an old man bolted into my arms 
 yelling, " Fire, thieves, burglars 1 Help ! 
 There s one of em in the parlor and here s 
 another a-helling after him." 
 
 I shouted reassurances in the old man s ear, 
 but he brushed me aside, caught up a wooden 
 bottomed chair, and would have brained me 
 on the spot had I not dodged through the 
 parlor door. I had time to glimpse Pillsover 
 in the act of yanking books from a case by the 
 armful. Then the wooden-bottomed chair 
 caught me in the small of the back and I 
 sprawled headlong on top of Pillsover. As I 
 128]
 
 a 
 
 a 
 
 1
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 tried to scramble to my knees my hand fell 
 upon volume fifteen. The gilded lettering 
 gleamed like fire. In a flash I recognized it 
 as the book I sought. Tucking it under my 
 arm I made one spring for the nearest open 
 window. Not even my coat-tails touched as I 
 flew through it like a bird. Climbing into my 
 buggy I drove pell-mell toward Burlington, 
 and as the vehicle spun into the highway on 
 one wheel I heard the sounds of battle raging 
 in Mr. Jonas Harding s parlor. 
 
 While I steered my galloping steed with 
 one hand I opened the book between my knees. 
 Alas, my gallant struggle had been in vain. 
 The royal whisker was still missing. I was 
 reasonably sure that Pillsover had not exam 
 ined this book when I fell upon it, and there 
 fore there was nothing to do but hasten in 
 pursuit of the third book-case. 
 
 Pillsover was covering ground with fairly 
 infernal energy, I will say that much for him. 
 In fact I was in the library of the third con 
 signee, in Harrisburg, when I saw him dash 
 up the front steps. My host had promised 
 130]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 to say nothing of my visit, as I wished to con 
 fuse my rival as much as possible. Therefore 
 I slipped behind a portiere as Pillsover was 
 ushered into the room by a servant. He was 
 left alone for a few minutes, and I had the 
 pleasure of seeing him tiptoe to a corner of 
 the library and fumble with the glass door 
 of the Vellum & Co. book-case. He was in 
 such clumsy haste to get at the books that he 
 tugged too hard at the catch. The case had 
 not been solidly placed. It toppled and fell 
 over on Pillsover with a terrific crash, and 
 several plaster statuettes smote him on the 
 head with great force. I paused only long 
 enough to view him prostrate with a large bust 
 of Dante resting on the back of his neck. 
 Then I fled to catch a train for Richmond. 
 
 By a most arduous process of elimination 
 I had been able to determine beyond a shadow 
 of doubt that the parchment envelope was in 
 volume fifteen of the fourth consignment 
 which had been shipped to Micah P. Rogers 
 of Richmond. I found him without difficulty, 
 and Pillsover had not yet appeared on this
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 horizon. Neither had the book-case. It 
 seems that after waiting for a reasonable 
 period, Mr. Rogers had notified the express 
 company. The local agent was unable to find 
 any traces of the missing box of goods. More 
 investigation convinced the parties interested 
 that it had somehow gone astray between New 
 York and Richmond. Every effort was being 
 made to locate the missing package, and I had 
 no other course than to confide in Mr. Rogers 
 and ask him to forward the precious docu 
 ment to my home as soon as the shipment 
 should reach him. I was very nervous and 
 apprehensive that the pestiferous Pillsover 
 might find a way to get his hands on it, but I 
 was worn out with traveling night and day, 
 and there might be weeks of futile waiting. 
 Wearied and disappointed I started to re 
 turn to New York. My train was not more 
 than an hour beyond Richmond when it was 
 blocked by a wreck. A brakeman informed 
 me that the tracks could not be cleared for 
 several hours. Therefore I walked ahead to 
 watch the wrecking crews at work. A number 
 132]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 of cars of merchandise were strewn about in 
 frightful confusion. Fire had broken out 
 among the splintered express cars and their 
 contents, and the train crews were fighting it 
 with bucket brigades. 
 
 Another passenger train coming in the op 
 posite direction from mine was standing on 
 the other side of the blockade. Its people 
 were also walking along the track to view the 
 interesting scene at close range. Foremost 
 among them I recognized Pillsover, evidently 
 bound for Richmond. His head was ban 
 daged and a strip of plaster gleamed athwart 
 his nose. As I drew nearer the one side of 
 the blazing wreckage, he approached closer 
 to the other until we were glaring across the 
 smoking barrier perhaps a hundred feet apart. 
 He could see that I was a passenger on the 
 train that had left Richmond earlier in the 
 day, and he was forced to conclude, of course, 
 that the parchment envelope and the Royal 
 Whisker were in my pocket. His emotions 
 must have been tormenting in the extreme, for 
 several times he shook his fist at me. I 
 
 [133
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 assumed as triumphant an expression as possi 
 ble, and stared at him with haughty contempt. 
 
 The wind shifting, I was able to walk 
 nearer the wreck, and presently my eye was 
 drawn to a smashed packing-case that had 
 been tossed down the embankment to the edge 
 of the burning area. Where the planking had 
 been ripped away I thought I saw several 
 dark-green books protruding. Moving closer 
 I noticed that more books lay scattered about 
 on the grass and among the lumber just be 
 yond. 
 
 My curiosity was aroused. I ran down the 
 slope as near the wreck as the frightful heat 
 would permit. When a dozen feet away I 
 felt almost certain that these were books of 
 the same edition which I sought. If so, they 
 must be billed to Richmond. The chance of 
 their being the Rogers shipment was over 
 whelming. 
 
 While I stood gazing at them, trying to 
 shield my face with my coat, a yell rose from 
 beyond the wreck. Pillsover had made the 
 same discovery and jumped at the same con- 
 134]
 
 The Tale of the Wandering Book-Case 
 
 The wretch was crawling toward the box on hands and 
 knees." 
 
 elusion. I must act on the instant or not at 
 all. The wretch was crawling toward the 
 box on hands and knees, coughing and choking 
 for breath. I pulled my coat over my head 
 
 [135
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 and tried to fight my way along the embank 
 ment. The gusty wind veered suddenly and 
 drove a deadly sheet of flame between me and 
 the box. Driven back I watched the greedy 
 fire lick around the prize I sought. Dimly I 
 could see Pillsover reeling back beaten, with 
 his face in his hands. Baffled, he and I 
 watched the precious shipment burst into 
 flames. 
 
 Presently a charred bit of paper fluttered 
 past me. I clutched it, and my fingers closed 
 on a bit of smoking parchment. I sniffed it 
 eagerly, and detected the odor of burning hair. 
 There was no doubt that the Royal Whisker 
 had perished on this imposing pyre. 
 
 136]
 
 THE TALE OF 
 THE SHIPWRECKED PARENT
 
 CHAPTER VI 
 
 THE TALE OF THE SHIPWRECKED 
 
 PARENT 
 
 I WAS enjoying a quiet afternoon with my 
 notebooks in my London lodgings. I had 
 been in England only three weeks and already 
 my researches had been rewarded by the dis 
 covery of two very uncommon species or pat 
 terns of the Human Whisker. The portraits 
 of their wearers were in process of being 
 painted by competent artists, and I was in the 
 midst of cataloguing these treasures accord 
 ing to my own system of classification and 
 nomenclature when a commotion in the street 
 caused me to hasten to the window. 
 
 A four-wheeler was maneuvering near the 
 curb in a most surprising manner. Now the 
 vehicle would sweep a circle and approach 
 the door, then it would halt and back a few 
 
 [139
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 yards, while from within issued a series of 
 shrill commands that fairly crackled with pro 
 fanity. I was able to hear the turbulent pas 
 senger cry with formidable fury: 
 
 " Hard a-starboard, you swab ! Now easy 
 with your helium. Don t you know enough 
 to let her come up into the wind when you re 
 making a landing?" 
 
 The harassed cab made another dizzy cir 
 cuit, and finally stopped at the curb. The 
 door was flung open and there emerged a huge 
 beard of Titian red followed by its sturdy 
 owner, Hank Wilkins, my faithful assistant 
 and the companion of many of my wanderings. 
 He beckoned to the driver, who handed him 
 down a bit of plank and a coil of rope. Then 
 Mr. Wilkins carefully moored the horse, stern 
 and bow, to the footscraper on the doorstep, 
 after which he laid one end of the plank inside 
 the cab and the other on the curb, thus making 
 a little bridge. Touching his hat with a sail 
 orly salute he addressed the interior of the 
 cab: 
 
 " All s made fast shipshape and proper, 
 140]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 father. Hawser s ashore and gangplank out. 
 Come on, if you please." 
 
 A sprightly old man darted into view and 
 ran down the gangplank. He was so gaunt 
 that his clothes fairly flopped about his with 
 ered frame. His weather-browned face 
 resembled a shriveled pippin and his hawk 
 like nose swooped down to meet his concave 
 chin. 
 
 " All taut, my boy," he piped in a voice 
 like the wind singing through a ship s rigging. 
 " If I hadn t been along that lubber on the 
 poop ud have smashed us into smithereens, 
 hey, boy? " 
 
 Mr. Wilkins grasped his fellow- voyager by 
 the arm and led him indoors. I met them in 
 the hall and Wilkins explained with some 
 embarrassment : 
 
 This is my aged parent, sir. I ran afoul 
 of him by sheer accident, and found he was 
 even more set in his ways than when I last 
 clapped eyes on him. The only way I could 
 fetch him up from the docks was to let him 
 play he was cruisin ashore. I hadn t seen the 
 
 [141
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 old codger for twenty-odd years, and thought 
 he was lost in the wreck of the Australia clip 
 per Hyder Ally. I knew him the second he 
 raised a yell in my wake and came runnin 
 after me, but I was a bit puzzled at first 
 because he used to wear a beard, and now his 
 face is as shy of hair as a china nest egg." 
 
 I coaxed the pair into my sitting room, and 
 placed the briny and erratic parent behind a 
 scotch-and-soda. He dipped his beak in the 
 glass, threw back his head and slid the drink 
 down his wizened throat without blinking. 
 His offspring commented: 
 
 " He steams by fits and starts, sir. His 
 safety-valve is pretty near due to blow off 
 again and then you ll hear him waste language 
 at an awful rate. Where have you been, dear 
 father? You haven t squandered any postage 
 stamps on your only child." The parent 
 slapped the table with his skinny hand, 
 smacked his lips and began to drone as if the 
 lever of a phonograph had been released: 
 
 " The Hyder Ally was foundered in the 
 Injun Ocean and I was the only man of her 
 142]
 
 -n 
 c 
 
 _60
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 crew that drifted ashore. And me and the bit 
 of plank I was clinging to like a barnacle was 
 tossed on the beach of an island that wasn t 
 down on any charts at all. I discovered it, 
 and named it Lemuel Wilkins, his island, by 
 gum. And there was people on this Lemuel 
 Wilkins Island, big brown savages with no 
 more manners or morals than this big red- 
 whiskered son of mine. And the men on that 
 island, they had whiskers, too, tropical, luxu 
 riant whiskers they was, oh, such wonderful 
 growths. When they come down to the beach 
 to pick me up, they was truly a rare and noble 
 sight. 
 
 " It was the fact of my wearin a fine up 
 standing beard that saved my life. They gave 
 me a hut and fed me up, and I was treated 
 with respect. It wasn t a month before I was 
 beginnin to talk their lingo and pick up their 
 ways. One of the first things I noticed that 
 was awful curious was that every morning all 
 the men sat in the sun and dressed their whisk 
 ers most particular with combs made out of 
 sharks teeth. Then they washed em and
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 holystoned em with some kind of ointment 
 and little fiber brushes and spread them out 
 to dry. 
 
 " I figgered that it was healthy for me to 
 follow the majority as long as I had to sojourn 
 on Lemuel Wilkins Island. While my whisk 
 ers wasn t as fine and silky and luxurious as 
 the savages, they was pretty fair for a fo ksle 
 growth. So I borrowed a comb and a squee 
 gee and began to tend my chin-warmers as 
 careful and assiduous as my neighbors. This 
 made a hit with em from the start, and even 
 the king was kind enough to pass me out a few 
 encouraging words. 
 
 " Bime-by I learned that among my island 
 ers rank and office was decided by reason of 
 the longest, bushiest whiskers. It was like this, 
 do you understand: the king held his berth 
 only until some other man of the tribe hap 
 pened along with a finer set of whiskers. Then 
 the unfortunate ruler had to climb off his perch 
 and make way for a new monarch. The 
 poor old discard let his whiskers get all neg 
 lected and frowsy, like the jig was up and he d 
 
 [H5
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 lost the number of his mess for keeps. The 
 next highest chief or prime minister was the 
 Johnny with the second finest whiskers, and 
 so on down the line until you come to the 
 Comb and Whisker Bearer to His Royal 
 Nibs. 
 
 " It might ha been one year, and it might 
 ha been a hundred and forty-seven years for 
 all I know, when I found by measurin my 
 whiskers every morning that they had reached 
 their limit. They had sprouted every last 
 blankety blank sprout there was in em. Then 
 with fear and trembling I signified my inten 
 tion of entering the next competition for office, 
 which was held every six months. It was 
 something like Civil Service examinations. I 
 played in hard luck that trip, for this here 
 competition brought out the finest collection 
 of prize whiskers ever seen on Lemuel Wil- 
 kins Island. It had been fine growin weather, 
 lots of showers and sunshine, and them native- 
 bred tropical varieties took to it kindlier than 
 my brand, which was reared in the temperate 
 zone. 
 146]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 "Hallelujah, I won by an eighth of an inch." 
 
 When the Royal Surveyor came along the 
 line with the official measurin rods I was all 
 et up with excitement. I didn t have no show 
 to be a king, but there was several snug berths 
 that I had an eye on, and it was going to be a 
 close finish between me and the other mejium 
 growths. Hallelujah, I won by an eighth of 
 an inch, and was made Captain of the Royal 
 Body Guard. 
 
 [147
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 " There was only one sorrow in my year 
 and a half at that job. An Italian barber was 
 washed ashore from a wrecked liner, and 
 when we found a razor in his pocket I was 
 foolish enough to tell the King what it was 
 for. He ordered the poor castaway to be 
 stoned to death with green cocoanuts, for there 
 was no reasoning with His Bloodthirsty Ma 
 jesty. The barber was a heretic, a blasphemer, 
 a menace to law and order, and several other 
 things, and I couldn t save him from his fate. 
 The royal notion was that any man that dare 
 lay hand on a whisker with felonious intentions 
 was a hidjus monster, and had ought to be 
 exterminated quicker n scat. 
 
 " I disremember how many years it was 
 before there came to pass what is called in the 
 history of Lemuel Wilkins Island The Red 
 Whisker Rebellion. There was a tradition 
 that some day a man with a red beard would 
 come from Heaven or appear in some kind of 
 astonishin manner, and he would be the great 
 and exalted King and reign forever and ever, 
 amen. I used to sit under a cocoanut tree and 
 148]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 mourn that all the brains of the family went 
 to the inside of my head and all the red hair 
 to the outside of my boy Hank s. That didn t 
 help none, me being a bloomin brunette by 
 profession, and I logged it along on my hum 
 ble but happy course until the man from Maa- 
 loo Island come sneakin ashore with his damn 
 conspiracy. It was kept under cover awful 
 close for six months or so. And it was a sad 
 day for me when I fell an easy prey to his 
 horrid temptations. It wasn t natural for a 
 white man to stay satisfied with such tupenny 
 jobs as Captain of Police and Maker of 
 Whisker Combs for the Palace by Royal War 
 rant. I was itching for authority in high 
 places, but my whiskers couldn t match my 
 ambitions. 
 
 " The man from Maaloo Island had me 
 sized up as the abiding place of the cankerin 
 worm of ambition with a big A. And when 
 me and my crew that was divin after pearls 
 was blown into Maaloo Island harbor by a 
 gale of wind, he renewed his hellish overtures 
 and unfolded his plot. Him and a pal of his 
 
 [149
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 had discovered an herb which would make a 
 dyestuff that was warranted not to fade, crock 
 or get rusty in three lifetimes. It was their 
 copper-fastened secret, and they had tried it on 
 several sets of false whiskers. These append 
 ages they had hung in the scorchin sun and 
 left out in the rain and towed behind em at 
 sea for four years. And the crimson tint of 
 them whiskers hadn t altered enough to be 
 visible to the naked eye. 
 
 " The man from Maaloo Island had a 
 brother that hadn t been home since he was a 
 boy. Being a perfect stranger to all hands in 
 them waters, the plot was to dye the brother s 
 whiskers red, he having the most wonderful 
 natural bunch in all the Injun Ocean. Then 
 they was to land him on Lemuel Wilkins 
 Island with some kind of flim-flam and de- 
 ludin ceremonies, like he had hopped off a 
 passin cloud. 
 
 " It looked all right. My poor islanders 
 had never seen no dyestuff of any kind, and 
 they didn t know that red whiskers growed 
 anywhere except where their gods come from. 
 150]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 It was as easy as stealing the handles from 
 your grandmother s coffin. 
 
 " I was to help the game along all I could, 
 usin my pull with the police in case of trouble, 
 and this dyed-in-the wool King swore he d 
 make me his right hand man and executive 
 officer. But I didn t have to lift a finger when 
 his Sacred Red Whiskers landed. He was dis 
 covered at sun-up chumming with the wooden 
 gods of the tribe as if he had fell among a 
 bunch of long-lost brothers. The Lemuel 
 Wilkins Islanders flopped on their knees and 
 surrendered, hook, line and sinker, body, soul 
 and breeches which they didn t have none. 
 The cheap human being of a King that was in 
 power was tipped on his royal head and the 
 Red Whiskers God took the throne without a 
 murmur. Then he picked me as the spoiled 
 darling of his muster roll, and nobody dared 
 whimper. Oh, but them were brief but beau 
 teous years! 
 
 " It was a fifty-pound case of plug tobacco 
 that ruined Lemuel Wilkins. It was cast 
 ashore from some wreck or other, and I wel-
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 corned it with songs of rejoicing. And being 
 grateful to the Red Whiskered King, I taught 
 him how to chew. He took to it like a seaman 
 to rum. And we d pass the warm, starlit 
 evenings clampin our jaws on chunks of good 
 old Bristol Navy and feel our hearts expand 
 with love for our fellow men. He wasn t a 
 neat chewer, being strange and uneducated, 
 and he used to trickle some when he spit. He 
 had hopes of bein able to hit a knothole at 
 ten feet, like me, but he was a mere appren 
 tice, so to speak. 
 
 " We went to bed in the dark on that fatal 
 night after an exciting round of target prac 
 tice at the knothole, and I had no chance to 
 warn him. At daylight he strode forth to 
 meet the head men and petty officials of the 
 tribe for a sacred pow-wow. The rays of the 
 rising sun lit up his Heaven-descended whisk 
 ers like a bonfire of tar barrels. 
 
 " There was a wild roar from his followers. 
 I heard the hell-raisin racket and rushed to 
 the scene. There -was a streak of brown and 
 another of gray runnin halfway down his 
 152]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 beard. I dassent believe my eyes. The petty 
 chiefs was crowding in around him, utterin 
 shrill cries. Alas, it was too true. The dye- 
 stuff from Maaloo Island hadn t been made 
 proof against the continued and corrodin 
 effects of tobacco juice. It had done its deadly 
 devastation over night. The Sacred Whisk 
 ers had begun to crock and run. 
 
 " The Head Groom of the Bed Chamber 
 was summoned on the jump. His acute and 
 expert vision could not be fooled. He pro 
 nounced the whiskers a harrowing imitation 
 that might have been made in Germany. 
 Then the chiefs held a formal trial. I wasn t 
 there. I was wildly searchin for a seagoing 
 canoe when they dragged me back from the 
 beach. Five hours later the bogus god had 
 been beaten to death with war clubs, and a 
 bona fide human or home-grown set of whisk 
 ers was reigning in his stead. He had con 
 fessed all, miserable wretch that he was, and 
 I was accused and tried for conspiracy. 
 
 " No, they didn t kill me, but they done me 
 much worse. I was condemned to have my 
 
 [153
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 whiskers pulled out with pincers, every last 
 hair of em. Do you fathom what that meant? 
 With a face as clean as a billiard ball I was no 
 longer fit to be with men. I was disrated, cast 
 out, dishonored, fit only to do wimmin s work. 
 And they made me do it. It was that or 
 starve. They put me to work in the laundry, 
 doing up the royal whisker covers what was 
 put on by the King and his Cabinet at night, 
 same as we use nightcaps. There is things 
 worse than death, just as the Good Book says 
 that the bite of an ungrateful son is more 
 grievous than the sting of a serpent." 
 
 The unfortunate parent let his head sink 
 between his shoulders like a mournful old bird 
 on its roost, and wiped one beady eye with the 
 cuff of his sleeve. It seemed indelicate to press 
 him with questions, and Hank Wilkins and I 
 waited in attitudes of respectful attention. At 
 length the parent rubbed his smooth and shin 
 ing chin with the back of his hand, and the 
 touch of it awoke his wrath to seek vent in 
 speech. 
 
 " Doomed to wander whiskerless over the 
 154]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 "And laugh in his bushy beard till the tears ran down 
 into it." 
 
 face of the earth was I," he went on, " though 
 I wasn t allowed to wander to any extent. 
 Humiliations were heaped upon me, full and 
 overflowing. The King used to saunter down 
 to the laundry and sit on a tub carved from a 
 
 [155
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 solid log and laugh in his bushy beard till the 
 tears ran down into it and hung there like 
 diamonds. Years and years and ages and 
 ages I toiled in this disgustin manner, and 
 there was no balm or whisker restorer in 
 Gilead for the wreck of what had once been 
 the high-steppin and proud-spirited Lemuel 
 Wilkins. 
 
 " At last I escaped from them torments. It 
 was in a Dutch gunboat that discovered the 
 island and sent a boat in shore to chart the 
 reefs. Disguised as a tubful of washing, I 
 made my way to the beach by night and swum 
 off to the Dutchmen. If there had been one 
 red-whiskered man aboard the vessel I d ha 
 made a desperate attempt to lead a rebellion 
 with him and upset the ruling dynasty. But 
 there was no such luck, and they landed me in 
 Batavia without a penny, yes, even poorer by 
 the length of my whiskers than when I 
 had been washed ashore on Lemuel Wilkins 
 Island. On my way home I picked up a 
 monkey that had been owned by a deef and 
 dumb man in Borneo. He had taught the 
 156]
 
 The Tale of the Shipwrecked Parent 
 
 intelligent animal to talk the sign language to 
 him, usin its hands and feet with surprisin 
 fluency. That there double-ended monkey, 
 Four-handed Jacob, is the only friend I ve got 
 in the world. I m teachin him to conduct 
 
 dialogues with himself and " 
 
 I was impolite enough to break into the 
 rambling monotone of the shipwrecked par 
 ent. I told him that it had occurred to me 
 that Lemuel Wilkins Island was waiting for 
 his son Hank as its lawful and predestinated 
 sovereign. Nor did I feel that I ought to 
 stand in the way of such glittering advance 
 ment. Here was this fine fellow, Hank Wil 
 kins, owner of the most superb Titian beard 
 in the world, if I knew anything about whisker 
 values. And in the Indian Ocean was a throne 
 that belonged to him. And more than that, 
 I hoped to be able to accompany him to Lem 
 uel Wilkins Island. If Hank Wilkins had 
 been shown the way to a throne by the revela 
 tion of his shipwrecked parent, then I had been 
 privileged to discern a new and wonder 
 ful opportunity for extending my researches 
 
 [157
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 among the rare species of the Human 
 Whisker. To think of visiting this island, 
 where whiskers were encouraged and cherished 
 by custom, tradition and the stimulus of ambi 
 tion, fired my soul with unbounded ardor. 
 And with Hank Wilkins as ruler, by grace of 
 his peerless Titian beard, there would be no 
 limit to my novel investigations. I hastened 
 to console the shipwrecked parent and my 
 voice rang with enthusiasm : 
 
 " Never fear, Lemuel Wilkins. You are 
 the sire of the genuine Hair Apparent. We 
 shall sail for the Indian Ocean on the first 
 steamer out of England. And when Hank 
 Wilkins has come into his kingdom, you shall 
 be summoned as Prime Minister, and you 
 shall be allowed to boil the deposed monarch 
 to death in a laundry tub. And meantime you 
 and Four-handed Jacob shall be liberally pen 
 sioned." 
 
 158]
 
 THE ABDICATION OF KING 
 WILKINS I
 
 CHAPTER VII 
 
 THE ABDICATION OF KING WILKINS I 
 
 (As quoted from the author s diary for the 
 year 1904.) 
 
 Ar RIL 5th. After interminable weeks at 
 sea, weeks beset with doubts and fears 
 and hopes, our fondest dreams have come 
 true. The night has fallen on our first day 
 in Lemuel Wilkins Island. As I write, the 
 firelight flickers upon the bronzed forms of 
 our stalwart native bodyguard, and throws 
 into bold silhouette their incomparable sets of 
 tropical whiskers. These treasures are all that 
 the Shipwrecked Parent led me to hope for, 
 and I picture to myself happy months to come, 
 with camera, sketching tablets and note books. 
 Perhaps I shall be able once more to organize 
 an Hirsute Orchestra, here where the rarest of 
 tonal qualities are waiting to be grouped and 
 tuned, here where the steady sweep of the 
 
 [161
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 trade winds will evoke vibratory harmonies by 
 night and day. 
 
 I am not a coward, and my adventures in 
 pursuit of rare whiskers have led me into some 
 tight corners among various kinds of uncivi 
 lized folk. But I am ready to confess that I 
 was in an agitated state of mind and that my 
 knees wobbled when the surf boat from my 
 chartered schooner grounded on this remote 
 beach in the gray dawn, and Hank Wilkins 
 and I were left alone to face these mysterious 
 islanders. I could not help recalling the fate 
 of the red-bearded impostor from Maaloo 
 Island. And what disturbed me even more 
 was the fact that I was clean shaven, and 
 might be thrust against my will into some such 
 degrading kind of labor and humiliating social 
 status as had crushed the unfortunate Ship 
 wrecked Parent. If Wilkins failed to win by 
 virtue of his Titian beard well, our lives and 
 fortunes hung by a hair, or, to be more accu 
 rate, by a rarely splendid bunch of them. 
 
 Leaving me alone on the beach, Hank Wil 
 kins advanced toward a stately grove of palms, 
 162]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 combing his whiskers as he moved with kingly 
 stride. I slumped down on a bit of driftwood, 
 my head in my hands, and waited for Heaven 
 alone knew what. The moments dragged 
 horribly, but it could not have been more than 
 an hour before I heard shouts re-echoing from 
 the grove, shouts of joy which merged into 
 some kind of a slow, chanting music. Pres 
 ently Hank Wilkins came from among the 
 trees. His head was bound with a fillet of 
 leaves, a fiber cloak was draped from his mas 
 sive shoulders; and behind him streamed 
 scores of villagers, dancing, singing, waving 
 palm branches. Now and then a group of 
 them would hurry on ahead to look at the 
 oriflamme of a beard that lured them on, and 
 to bow and posture before it in the most com 
 plete adoration. 
 
 I was panic-smitten, however, when a num 
 ber of men rushed straight at me, and bran 
 dished clubs as if about to dash out my inno 
 cent brains. With savage shouts and fierce 
 gestures, Hank Wilkins restrained his ardent 
 followers, and hastened to embrace me and 
 
 [163
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 throw his cloak across my shoulders. While 
 he was convincing the islanders by means of 
 this pantomime that I was his friend he man 
 aged to tell me : 
 
 " My whiskers won in a walk, but it was 
 uncomfortable for a while. Once bit, twice 
 shy, and they made me soak my beard in a 
 tubful of powdered plug tobacco and water 
 before they were sure I was the real thing. 
 Follow me to the palace, and cast your eyes on 
 the lovely specimens in my wake." 
 
 Upon my soul, the prodigious beards of our 
 escort formed a sort of human jungle. They 
 were trimmed and trained in such wholly 
 original patterns as to convince me that the art 
 of wearing whiskers has fatally degenerated 
 among civilized races. I shook the hand of 
 His Majesty King Wilkins I. in silent ecstacy. 
 We did not catch even a glimpse of the luck 
 less ruler so suddenly deposed by reason of our 
 advent. He had climbed the back fence of 
 the palace yard, his inadequate and superseded 
 whiskers his only luggage, and fled by sea well 
 ahead of the mob. 
 164]
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 We entered the royal apartments to the 
 sound of drums and horns, and made ourselves 
 at home. The Groom of the Royal Bed 
 Chamber at once set to work anointing and 
 combing the royal and supernal beard of King 
 Wilkins I in token of the official installation. 
 I was left free to begin my researches, and by 
 nightfall I had photographed and catalogued 
 two absolutely unique growths, and was as 
 happy as a truant school boy. 
 
 May 3. Our island has been invaded by a 
 young woman of our own race, a most aston 
 ishing and incredible event. I was drawn to 
 the beach this forenoon by a great outcry and 
 stampede from my village, and hurried after, 
 to find a small schooner driving ashore, dis 
 masted and helpless. Her native crew was 
 trying to launch a boat as the doomed vessel 
 drifted toward the roaring surf that pounded 
 over the inside reef. The boat was swamped 
 even before it could be manned, and our brave 
 villagers rushed to their fishing canoes which 
 had been pulled above high water. 
 
 But before they could attempt a rescue, 
 166]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 King Wilkins I came tearing through the 
 crowd, roaring commands, and in a twinkling 
 he had picked a crew and was urging them 
 into the breakers. The brave fellows toiled 
 like madmen. Thrice the giant seas beat them 
 back and whirled their canoe end over end. 
 But they followed the flaming beard of their 
 leader as if it were a banner of war, and at 
 length the canoe crossed the reef in clouds of 
 spray. 
 
 Soon a driving rain veiled the schooner 
 from our sight, and an hour passed before the 
 canoe reappeared. Then, amid a storm of 
 cheers from shore, it was flung far upon the 
 sand. I rushed to pick up the inanimate form 
 of a young white female, but the dripping 
 Wilkins shoved me aside, and swinging her 
 against his shoulder he ran toward the palace. 
 He gasped as I trotted at his side : 
 
 " Miss Hulda Barnstable of Walpole, 
 Mass. missionary bound to the Peace Island 
 group. Old gent that convoyed her was 
 washed overboard yesterday and lost." 
 
 May 10. I am not ungallant by nature, 
 
 [167
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 but I have begun to wish to Heaven that the 
 young missionary female had chosen some 
 other island for the scene of her shipwreck. 
 She has an attractive personality in her de 
 mure, prim way, and her eyes are uncommonly 
 fetching. But in one short week she has man 
 aged to demoralize the government of Lemuel 
 Wilkins Island, and to play the very devil with 
 my well-ordered round of scientific investiga 
 tion. King Wilkins I promised to send her 
 on her way in the first vessel he could lay his 
 hands on, but for the last day or so he has 
 appeared to care precious little about sighting 
 a sail. 
 
 Miss Hulda Barnstable is of that an 
 noying New England type that can hear a 
 call of duty from the Antipodes and is always 
 cocked and primed to regenerate any com 
 munity except its own. She was not asked to 
 right any wrongs or save any souls on Lemuel 
 Wilkins Island, but already she has expressed 
 in the strongest language her contempt for an 
 elderly gentleman who will waste his golden 
 years in studying and collecting the Human 
 168]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 Whisker. She has even begun to set the na 
 tives against me, and is actually preaching the 
 damnable doctrine that their pride in their 
 whiskers is sinful and disgusting. As for the 
 King, he is not like himself. I have the gravest 
 doubts of his being able to make a firm stand 
 against the. New England conscience when 
 reinforced by a pair of fine gray eyes. 
 
 May 15. Early this evening Wilkins 
 launched into a story of his troubles. His 
 impassioned monologue lasted an hour, and 
 the gist of it was as follows : 
 
 " Mr. McKackney, I have never failed you 
 yet, nor sidestepped any proposition that I 
 once laid my hand to. You will recall that I 
 took my life in one hand and my camera in 
 the other when I got you the picture of the 
 Insane Cossack with the Pink Whiskers that 
 is the gem of your collection to this day. But 
 I never lost my sleep o nights before, nor 
 watched my appetite slide out from under me 
 till it would disgrace a hard-working humming 
 bird. And what is it all about? Why, the 
 very thing that you and me have made the 
 
 [169
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 business of our lives and been d n proud of ; 
 the very thing that fetched us to this island, 
 where we were so happy until " 
 
 Wilkins pulled at his beard and stared down 
 at this mainspring of his sovereignty with a 
 significant frown. Then he resumed: 
 
 " What is it? It is Whiskers. She abom 
 inates em. No, don t interrupt me. I don t 
 want to have to be disrespectful, even though 
 I am a king and you are my naturalized sub 
 ject with the rank of Royal Whisker Inspector 
 by brevet. But I can t allow you to criticize 
 the doings or the motives of Miss Hulda 
 Barnstable of Walpole, Mass. I repeat, she 
 abominates em, hook, line and sinker. Whisk 
 ers to her sensitive soul are hateful, disturbin , 
 odjus, like rattlesnakes. And I can t blame 
 her, of course. Only I wish I wish the 
 foundations of my throne wasn t built on my 
 Titian beard. 
 
 " I might as well tell you, sir, why she pos 
 sesses this amazin distaste for that noblest 
 work of God, to wit, the Human Whisker." 
 Wilkins continued after a lugubrious silence. 
 170]
 
 T/ie Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 " And you won t blame her a bit. It seems 
 that when she was a slip of a girl, in her early 
 teens, her maternal uncle, Jedediah Stokes by 
 name, wore a set of whiskers of which he was 
 tremendously fond. As well as I can gather 
 from her rough description, they were of the 
 1 Chin-warmer Vulgaris pattern a very com 
 mon growth, as you know, sir, with no artistic 
 merit whatever. You have a plate and descrip 
 tion of the variety in the Illustrated Catalogue. 
 This Jedediah Stokes was a retired sea cap 
 tain, who had piled up in the East India trade 
 what amounted to a large fortune for a small 
 New England town. This fortune he had 
 willed to his widowed sister (who was the 
 mother of the young missionary person) and 
 to her children. 
 
 " The old barnacle lived with the Barn- 
 stable family, and being somewhat infirm by 
 reason of his hardships endured at sea, he 
 often fell asleep while reading beside the par 
 lor table over which he used to flop with his 
 head in his hands. His youngest nephew, a 
 high-spirited boy of twelve, used to watch this 
 
 [171
 
 J. Archibald McKackney 
 
 lullaby performance with a good deal of inter 
 est. At last he hit upon the most unfortunate 
 idea of applying a fresh coat of glue to the 
 top of the table just before Uncle Jedediah 
 fixed himself for one of these silly naps. The 
 old man was already blinkin and noddin 
 when the lad spilled the glue under pretense of 
 looking for a book. Then from the doorway 
 the young limb o Satan watched the poor old 
 mariner s head bob lower and lower until his 
 prodigal whiskers was streaming full and free 
 across the table. Then the nephew hastily 
 ducked and took a station by a window out 
 side, where his line of retreat was open. 
 
 " It seems that Uncle Jedediah woke up 
 with a snort and threw his head back hard 
 and sudden. To his immense rage and sur 
 prise he fetched the table along with him, and 
 so securely was he moored that after one or 
 two frantic plunges, which upset the lamp and 
 other bric-a-brac, he was forced to kneel beside 
 the table, bellowing with pain, while the fam 
 ily rushed for scissors and axes to cut him 
 clear. Meantime the house caught fire from 
 172]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 " Uncle Jedediah woke up with a snort." 
 
 the upset lamp, Uncle Jedediah was forsaken 
 and forgotten, and he escaped to the street, 
 draggin the table with him and shrieking at 
 every jump. He had to have his whiskers 
 hacked off at the roots, and the result was that 
 he disowned, repudiated, cussed out and dis 
 inherited the whole Barnstable family. From 
 that day Miss Hulda Barnstable, whose nerv 
 ous system had been severely jolted by this
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 double tragedy, could not abide the sight of 
 whiskers. 
 
 " It s a long walk from Walpole, Mass., to 
 Lemuel Wilkins Island in the Indian Ocean," 
 solemnly concluded the monarch, " but those 
 fatal whiskers of Captain Jedediah Stokes, 
 bein dead yet speaketh. And they are strong 
 enough to shake the throne of King Wilkins I, 
 and I m not ashamed to confess it, sir." 
 
 May 25. To-day I interviewed Miss 
 Hulda Barnstable, and had my worst fore 
 bodings and surmises confirmed. I found her 
 in the palm-thatched pavilion, in front of 
 which she has placed a sign : 
 
 " DISTRICT SCHOOL No. I. 
 Cocoanut Township." 
 
 A class of brown cherubs was trying to sing 
 " From Greenland s Icy Mountains " as I 
 entered with a good deal of timidity. Their 
 teacher, who was becomingly attired in a 
 freshly laundered duck skirt and white shirt 
 waist, requested me to wait in silence until the 
 " first recess." Meekly obedient, I stole out- 
 174]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 side and noted that the tribesmen were giving 
 the school house a wide berth, or, if their busi 
 ness took them past it, they went to a good 
 deal of trouble to hide their whiskers. I re 
 flected with bitterness that at this rate they 
 would begin cutting their whiskers off before 
 many moons. At length Miss Barnstable 
 beckoned me to a bench under a nearby tree 
 and said very firmly: 
 
 " Mr. J. Archibald McKackney, I cannot 
 leave this island by swimming, and as long as 
 I am compelled to remain here I propose to 
 follow the path of Duty that lies plain before 
 me. And I shall do everything in my power 
 to persuade Mr. er King Wilkins I to 
 abandon his hideous whiskers, and to abolish 
 them root and branch among his misguided 
 subjects. And you are helping this idolatrous 
 Whisker Cult as its High Priest. I have 
 made a beginning with my school children, 
 who repeat in chorus each day: 
 
 " We ll never, never use the weed 
 That bad men smoke and chew: 
 
 [175
 
 Archibald McKackney 
 
 The wine cup shall not pass our lips; 
 
 Down with the horrid brew. 
 We promise too, dear teacher, that 
 
 All whiskers are taboo." 
 
 I assured Miss Hulda Barnstable that I had 
 no designs on the morals of the youth of Lem 
 uel Wilkins Island. Then, as diplomatically 
 as possible, I tried to show her that she was 
 playing the very deuce with the throne itself, 
 that Wilkins without his whiskers could not 
 last two minutes, and that the traditions of 
 ages had established the system of choosing 
 monarchs by this hirsute qualification, and 
 that by virtue of his unique red whiskers he 
 was a good deal more than a common or gar 
 den potentate of mortal origin. " My dear 
 young woman," I told her with a good deal 
 of feeling, " let him alone. He is a first-rate 
 king, and he enjoys it, or did until you began 
 to mix yourself into affairs of state." 
 
 Miss Hulda Barnstable bit her lip and 
 looked me very straight between the eyes as 
 she retorted: 
 
 " Mr. Hank Wilkins will not cut off his 
 176]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 "Perhaps he would prefer to work out this problem for 
 himself, Mr. J. Archibald McKackney." 
 
 whiskers unless he thinks the sacrifice worth 
 while. Did you ever happen to think of it 
 from that viewpoint ? Perhaps he would pre- 
 
 [177
 
 . Archibald McKacknty 
 
 fer to work out this problem for himself, Mr. 
 J. Archibald McKackney." 
 
 June 8. The blow has fallen. For the 
 last fortnight I have seen the inevitable climax 
 drawing nearer and nearer. It was a splen 
 didly dramatic situation. I will grant you 
 that. There was no need of more confession 
 from Wilkins. It was obvious that he was 
 becoming more hopelessly enslaved by the 
 young missionary person every day. I have 
 long ago outlived the years of romance, but 
 I will acknowledge that the plight of Wilkins 
 awoke an interested flutter in the region of my 
 heart. I wanted him to find happiness : but at 
 the price of a throne? Ah, there was no get 
 ting away from the horns of that dilemma. It 
 was as self-evident as a syllogism in a text book 
 of logic and could be summed up in tabloid 
 form: 
 
 Hank Wilkins reigns because of his whiskers. 
 Miss Hulda Barnstable will not marry him with 
 
 whiskers. 
 
 Ergo he gives up the throne 
 Or he gives up the girl. 
 I 7 8]
 
 The Abdication of King Wilkins I 
 
 With matters in this desperately hopeless 
 condition, I stood aloof as an interested on 
 looker. My sympathies were with the Titian 
 beard, over which fell destruction hovered. 
 Then, too, I dreaded losing Wilkins as a 
 comrade. I knew full well that this insanely 
 prejudiced young woman would never consent 
 to her husband s remaining in my employ as 
 an assistant in harvesting the Human Whisker 
 or as the curator of my collections. I was 
 also haunted by the disappointment that would 
 befall old Lemuel Wilkins, the shipwrecked 
 parent. We had left him in England, waiting 
 with his monkey, Four-handed Jacob, the 
 simian semaphore, for the summons to join 
 us as Prime Minister of the island. 
 
 It was an immense relief, therefore, to have 
 an end made of this harrowing suspense. 
 When Wilkins summoned me to the royal bed 
 chamber I was prepared for the worst. His 
 demeanor was grave, but there was a twink 
 ling light in his eye as he announced: 
 
 " I received word to-day that a schooner 
 from Peace Island will touch here by to-mor-
 
 . Archibald McKackney 
 
 row night. I m going in her. I hereby abdi 
 cate, jump the job, quit without notice. Miss 
 Hulda Barnstable goes too. Will you join 
 us?" 
 
 I shook his hand and congratulated him as 
 heartily as I could under the circumstances. 
 Alas, for my dreams of completing my unique 
 researches on Lemuel Wilkins Island. I must 
 join the retreat. I asked Wilkins if he in 
 tended leaving my employ. He shook his 
 head with an air of sincere regret. 
 
 " She simply abominates em," he said re 
 luctantly. " I m afraid you and I have chased 
 the last whisker to its lair together. I ve made 
 my choice, sir. There s a brace of missionary 
 sky-pilots on Peace Island. We will be mar 
 ried there, and she has agreed to give up her 
 missionary projects in return for my surren- 
 derin a throne. Maybe I ll buy a farm some 
 where near your place. Will you lend me 
 your razor first thing in the morning, sir? " 
 
 THE END 
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