F»t« Four
PART TWO
Tb* Old Maj> UuflMd ■ warm Uu(h that
^*ld aO the warmth of th« human (plrtt.
■'Ytp. kmiorTow la r««lly my btrtfaday now!
t’ oOu all over the world r«M>rat« It "
’Hapt>7 Btrtbdajr."
The ronvtrt found himself saytng thr
iiw wordi. without really meanlnf too, lor
he knew now that the Old Man was a
harmless Idiot. He felt a sudden and un
familiar ImplUse tu touch him. to pity him
..nd to let him k»m- that aomeooe cared
lor him Reaching out he C'oUy clasped
■he weather-beaten hands in his and then
'.arted to turn away
'You itlU don't believe me. do you?"
Smlllnc. the Young Man lied as he said.
Sure I tk). Pop Sure I believe it's your
I irthday."
■'No need to lie. Sonny. 'Cause 1 km
' e you don't But 1 sec that you also pity
- ir That lor the first time in your llf<-,
.••u really feel somethin' inside of you frr
• feller creature Here. I want you should
f .ivm this to rememljer me by"
Me held out a small harmonica that had
"ng since lost all Its shine, and was bat-
’ red and wrinkled like his face.
Saw. you keep it I don’t want it. Pop."
Take it. It’i about all I got in the world
• >w It briringrd to that preacher I told
t'hj about He give it tu me after be saw
I was rrjlly re-born. I ain't never been
without it through all these years — it
I ilks to me when I begin to back-sllde
T.ike it! It's my birthday present to you!"
Itaaching out and taking it, the young
man was touched by the love of the old
:.an who would give away the thing he
i< vrd best in the «urld. It was the first
rhing that he could remember anyooa’s
^.ving him without wanting something in
ftum
'nianki. Pop. but I ought to be giving
ini a present. It’s your birthday”
You'U learn someday that the Joy of
I irthdays, ur any klnda days, is in yer
tivin’ somethin’ to somebody — not In the
.(••ttln’”
He started to say something to the old
rtian, but the wrjrds refused to come, and
K’ the young stranger bowed his head not
iintiwing wlvat else to do. He’d never been
Kiven anything t>efore and he didn't know
•that to think of it.
rinally, hr raised his head, because be
wished to return the poor little harmonica
Ui the old cowtoy. tnit when he kx>ked at the
vtindow. the smiling and peaceful face
. isn't there — only the yawning hole that
li'd out into the starlit night.
He quickly croased and spitting upon his
h.<nd. wiped a place through the grime and
r>:th ana k»ked up the street, but could
r."l see any trace uf the old msn.
He stood for a long time at the wlndo«'.
thinking about ii>e things that the old man
'.old him. Thinking about his life and bow
he had s<-vmed to always turn the wrong
'irner. And for the first time, he saw that
' had bei-n his domg. this turning of corn-
I I a. and not that of someone else. He had
'i .ted many men for many things, hd lied
'id chestrd, stolen and lived just for him.
"If ever since the day when he ran away
ir»m his home in a steaming, stench-filled
Chicago tenement. "tMck of the yards”
Krom off in the darkness of the other
.ulr of the cell he heard a sudden click
-d he turned to sea If It might be the
^rl•rlff returning from the Saloon, where
II- bad bi'i'n helping the boys celebrate
t Mrtstmai.
ilf' cru-(»ed over to the bars of his cell and
-'krd out. but all was black darkness t>e-
wMind
Hey. who's that?" he called, and learn-
.(I against the cell door to try and peer
'. into the (lark. As he leaned, he felt
till- door give under the pressure ot his
><<ly, and he quickly stepped back and then
f rr a moment be gave It a push, and It
N gan to swing open.
THE COLLEG lA Tg
JANUARY, 1954
Look. lt’« unlocked. Say, Boy. this
f'; ly be your chance to beat it out of here —
W ilt a minut4»! This might be a trap ....
:-i e, that’s it! They unlocked the cell
t I'd try and let out and then they'll
t me ha\*p It in t^ futs — Attemptiof to
in -ak )«U They mu«t have deckled th.it
h inclnff was too costly, might spoil their
('hnstmas fun ~ But. Hell. I gotta get
>:jt iyf here — *'
Then a thought suddenly camc to him.
>:>d be quickly threw himself prooe upon
ih<- fkior and began to slowly open the d^,
• vtrtkening to the,creak of its rusty hinges.
• r»<i expecting to see a burst of flame from
i :icuo at any minute. But. no shots came.
.ii.d .ifter waiting for a long time, he quick-
*v ran out to the outer door, and turning
lUr handle found that it was open. He
didn't try to understand. ho«* or when it
Hitd been unlocked, but he ran freely into
the dark past the Golden Pleasurers and out
I* ;.I the open lands.
and on through the night be ran. slip-
pf'4nd Khdtng and som<*Umes falling io>
if ^mall dHohes He had no kiea where be
K - t going, the only thmg was to get away,
run wb«'re thvy couldn’t touch him. Of-
he thought of the Old Man, and he
'bod Into hU pocked and touched the
Mi:ntonica from timt to time. The Old
M.^n sure bAd bmn a lunny old codger.
' as they oc>m« — but he’d told him
^h>■t Faith couk) open the doors of the jail,
J hadn’t be suddenly found the doors
*h.? had been carefully locked by the Sher-
ff unlocked? What the Hell, doors don’t
tnlf'ek themMrWe# —^ teifk or oo fAith All
had happened had been that the Sher>
iff arjtt so booced up that he had left the
The Angels’ Harp
A Christmas Western
In Two Initallments
By Cecil Willis
doors unlocked himself.
Skirting the fires of the cowpunchers.
which were gleaming in short fitful bursts
upon the hillsides, he walked steadily on and
finally came to what looked like a road
to him. He had no Idea where it might
lead him. but as it led away from Bethle
hem he wearily tnidged on into the cold
night.
The cold closed in upon him, whipping
him and smashing him with its ice-pick
sharp fingers until he almost longed for
the comfort of the feet>le little lamp back
in the cell. He shook his head and looking
up saw the thousands of stars shining do«'n
in gay Christmas decoration, and he knew
that there was nothing like being free. Free
to walk where be pleased, free to be out
in this cold, but warmly beautiful night.
And to on and on he went. Cold, stars
and memories of the Old Man swirling and
twirling round him and through him.
Suddenly from behind him camc twin
shafts of light, shooting through the night
like earth-bound stars, trying to rival th^
of the heavens above. Quickly he turned
and hailed ti>e lights, which were fast hurt
ling through the mght toward him.
When it pulled up beside him. in the hard
packed snow of the country road, be saw
that it was a )eep with three “mYll-oiled"
cowboys inside
■‘Hop in,” came from the interior of the
>eep.
Follwed by. “Merry Christmas,** as he
crawled into the vacant seat next to the
driver.
He murmured thanlu through his chat>
tering teeth, and the jeep was off. with a
sudden jump, which sent small jewels of
snow scudding for safety to the side of
the rood, from beneath the wheels.
He sat silently, while the other three
talked and joked, with thier friendly digs
at each other provoking great gales of
laughter. The bottle of whiskey was re-
quently parsed and when it was offered to
him. be took It desperately and drank deep
ly, feeling the M^armth of its body enter
into his own. The fever blister on his lip
began to smart and sting and he began to
feel alive again.
Still, he did not feel the same joy inside
himself, whenever he took a drink from
their bottle, th«t he had received from the
Old Man’s gift of his beloved harmonica.
However, as the jeep whizzed and bounced
gaily and noisily across the road, he began
to think less and less of ho Old Man. He
thought that if you were to be reborn, this
was the way. With joy and laughter and
good liquor. 'This was really living again!
'The conversation turned to the subject of
the murder of the old cattleman and then
he learned that his escape had been dis.
covered.
For his new* friends had been to Bethle*
hem to enjoy the pleasures of the Saloon,
and knew all about his escaping from the
jail
'Hve driver was a big fellow, with busky
black eyebrows which seemed to spring
from under the front of his large hat, as
he had it pulled rakishly down over his
eyes. He had been only able to catch a
glimpse' of two of the cowboys in the
back seat, so all that he knew about them
were their voices.
The big fellow turned to him and said.
•Where you headed, fellow?”
*’0h — I’m going to California.’*
'With his banjo on his knee.” one of the
voices from the backaeat sang.
'Hie big fellow raucously laughed, “Cali
fornia? Hell. Boy, you ain’t even going in
the general direction.”
”I got lost.”
*1 say you did What 3rou doin’, walkin’
all the way?”
Yes.”
**That‘s what I'd call a nice little stroll.”
the second voice from the back roared.
”St9p talking so much, and give me that
bottle.” the first angrily said.
“Where you eomin* from?”
* Back there.”
"You mean Bethlehem?”
TTie convict licked the fever blister, which
was stinging his lip. and answered casual
ly. ”1 didn't notice the name of the place.
1 passed right through.”
He could hear the tires gripping and slip
ping in the snow, making a strange ha^
thumping sound, as he continued to answer
their questions.
Thump-thump-thump- went the tires.
Thump-thump-thump came the questions.
They sped on together, tires and questions,
carrying on and oa into nothingness. On
and oo around that comer again!
With a hard jam of his foot, the big
fellow pul on brakes and then turned and
stared at the Young Man for a long while.
*’Get out.” he finally said, in a voice
hard with hate and whisker.
The light voice from the back asked.
What's up Frank? Why you stopped? Let’s
fO,**
Yeah, let's go! When I get Uckered up I
«nnna hit the bunk if there ain’t no fun
^^ng on,” the deeper voice from the rear
sleeky said.
"We ain’t gonna to go right now.
I think we got some work to atteM to.
This here’s that bastard that shot old man
Morris."
"What?"
"Yeah?" . ,,
"Sure. I’m sure. What's a guy doing w^-
ing down a country road at four m the
morning, with no coat on. Don’t even know
where he’s been and where he’s going.
As calmly as he could, the Young Man
said. "I told you I was going to Calilomia.
I just got kMt, that’s all."
"Shut up, you. And get out!"
The Young Man looked at the big fellow
for a minute, and then his eye followed the
other’s hand down to his hip, where he
saw the sUrllght shining upon a gleaming
black gun
Without any more «ords, the Young Man
crawled off the rough torn upholstery, drag
ging some of the ripped cotton out on the
floor after him.
He stood silently In the snow. What else
could he do'’ Where could he run? He knew
this was it! He knew mobc and he knew
that if they didn’t kill him they’d beat
him to a pulp. ’Then they’d kick him and
stomp his blood-smeared face into the white
ness of the snow. They didn’t know an-
thing else but force: they had to do It,
he knew, i>ecause they were men and men
had to beat you when they hated you. That
was the way life was!
So silently he stood and waited!
He waited for a long while, because the
sleepy one from the backseat sld he didn’t
“give a damn." all he wanted to do was
to go to bed. "Let the law string him up."
he said.
He waited patiently to be beaten or shot,
while they argued back and forth. The Big
Fellow was getting madder and madder
and the young man figured he wouldn’t
have much longer to wait. All that human
ness was getting ready to explode into hate
and revenge.
Finally the sleepy one. hal-puUed, and
half-onJiis-own. crawled out from the back,
still holding his open fifth; he continued
to argue that he was sleepy and that he
didn’t care if it was the guy, he wanted
to head for the bunkhouse pronto. Anyway,
the guy might not be the same one. Hell,
anybody can get lost; besides the guy didn't
look so liad. he didn’t look like he’d kill
a nice old man like old man Morris.
In fact, he’d even bet three months pay
that this vasn't the same guy!
The proposition of a chance to make some
money, in addition to being a hero, seem
ed to appeal to the big fellow, and he and
the other cowpoke placed bets with the
sleeph one. But how were they to know
whether he was the one or not?
’The Big Fellow said to go back to Beth
lehem, the Sheriff could settle the bet for
them.
’Hie Sleepy One said he wasn’t going to
go back to Bethelehem, they’d have to de
cide for themselves without the Sheriff.
The Other One said that either way It was
all right with him. but that the Sheriff was
most likely so tight by now that he wouldn’t
be able to recognize the guy, so it seemed
to him to be a u-aste of time Besides he
was getting sleepy, too.
’The Young M.m said nothing. He just
waited.
The Big Fellow. sUU itching to explode
the metal firecracker held in his hands
argu^ long and hard; but the other two
finally won out.
Then the Sleepy One turned to the Young
from
tottle he poked his face into the Young
Biton s exhaUng the smell of whiskey mix-
mth to^cco juice, which he from time
to ume spit out upon the white snow, spot-
ung it like some old ermine coat n-ev anrf
tattered with age. “
"What you doin’ ‘round. Feller**” the
Sleepy One asked.
”Going to CaHfomia.”
^^at you gonna do when you get there’
Go in moom’ pimrs?” he drunkly queried*
Oet me a job.
•‘What kinda work you do**”
;^ifferent Unds. Anything I can get"
Toe Big Fellow crossed over to them and
®eepy One out of the way "You
*l‘e one. He ain’t
goin to no^Ufomia. He’s nothin’ but a
*1? '"“t shot
tnat good old man.
j '.T'***' Fr»nk’s right' It wa< »
tofter that murdered Mister Morris May-
^ guy Mav
he did murder the old man. He can’t
tte Other suggested, as he crossrf
and stood at the Young Man’s side.
"Frank’s crazier than a loon. I tell you
I’m right. ’This ain’t the feller."
He turned, once again and looked ckaely
into the Young Man’s face.
■Lookie, Buddy, if’n you don’t want my
pal here to shoot you full of lead, you’d
better tell us what kinda work you do"
"Well, this is it." the Young Man thought;
"no matter what I tell ’em they won’t
believe me. Dishwasher, broker, taxidriver
— no matter what I say —”
His spinning thoughts suddenly come to
a lull stop, for his hand had felt the coW
metal of the harmonica in his pocket. He
might be able to tell them he was a musi-
cian. He had a harmonica to prove it
It was worth a try.
Pulling the battered and tarnished har
monica from his pocket he took a deep
breath, and said, ’’I i^ay the harmonica
for a living. You know, in bars and shows
and things.”
The Sleepy One whirled away from him.
and giving the Big Fellow a hard push]
triumphantly said to him, "You see, I
told ya he wasn’t the one! He plays the har
monica. Come on, hand over the bet — I
done won one from you, for a chance. Give
me that green stuff!”
"His saying’ he plays don’t make It so,"
the Big Fellow answered in a sullen voice.
"What’s a harmonica player doin’ round
here?”
The Other One had started back to the
jeep, but he turned and yelled angrily back
to the Big Fellow, “He told ya he was on
his way to California, didn’t he? Come on,
it’s cold standin’ round here. I’m getting
sleepy." With this he cravled back into
the jeep, and pulling his hat over his eyes,
forgot all about life and death, harmonica
and drifers and went to sleep dreaming of
the big blonde at the Golden Pleasures.
The Sleepy One and the Big Fellow were
not sleepy though; they were arguing back
and forth, each trying to save his pride
and his money.
’The Sleepy One said that there had been
a harmonica player over in Coker’s Junc
tion, playing in a honkey-tonk there, and
this guy was most likely him.
The Big Fellow said he didn’t give a
damn about that, he wanted to hear the
coyote play.
"O. K. Frank, if that’s what you want,
my friend here’ll play us a little ole song.
Won’t you. Friend?”, he drunkenly put his
arm around the Young Man’s shoulders and
held on to him, dizzily weaving back and
forth.
’The Young Man didn’t notice him, as time
had stopped for him. For all his life he’d
never been able to play a harmonica. He
remembered once as a kid, he’d traded a
pocketful of marbles to the little Wop kid
down the block, for his harmonica. But.
like all the other things in his life, when
he had finally gotten it, he found he couldn’t
use it.
And now he had to play, as if he had
played all his life, or the Big Fellow would
play a tune with his gun.
He had to try, because the Big Fellow
kept moving in closer -with his cocked gun
and demanding that he play "a song. Bud
dy. play a song.”
He raised the harmonica to his lips and
closed his eyes, for he knew in a minute
that the small metal cylinder, now pressed
hard into his stomack, would explode and
blow him into the nothingness from whence
he had come.
With his eyes closed, he blew upon the
small object between his hans.
Quickly he opened his eyes and looked
up and the stars were dancing across the
sky in a gay, rollicking Schottische —
whaling and turning, dipping and gleefully
whirling. For from the harmonica was com
ing the merry music of a dance tune!
His throat closed, and his breath stored.
Me had none left to blow upon this small
angels' harp held between his lips, and
still it played on!
Then the tears flowed free and easy down
his cold cheeks, while he played and the
stars dance. ’The Sleepy One cavorted mer
rily in the snow, sometimes falling, then
rising and taking a drink from his bottle
he went on with his dance.
’The stars, having worn holes in their
dancing shoes, finally went home to bed
and still he played. Then the Big Fellow
and the Sleepy One crawled back into their
jeep^ and it danced away into the dawn,
leaving him free in the palely growing
light of day.
Now there was no one left, but himself
and the one bright star still hanging in the
sky. as if reluctant to leave, for it would
I»t appear again until the next Christmas
time, when it would come out and proclaim
the good news of the reborn to all who
would listen.
liking back to the star as it hung over
Bethlehem, the Young Man waved his hand
in salute to it — His star. The Star that
annouced his Birthday!
For today was his Birthday!
Here he stood fresh and clean and ncw-
ly-bom in the snow, and knew that the
Old Man had been right. That the living
dead do rise again in a new birth! That
miracles happen every day and that be.
too. was bom in a manger in another Beth
lehem many years ago.
With a smile upon his face, he turned
and started walking down the road still
playing upon his harmonica, a song of
peace and eternal joy, as he strode hap-
I^y towards the £ast and the rising sun
of his first day of life.