M 12 GOODWIN'S WEEKLY
V '.M
r PHANTOMS.
j ; (Continued from Page 9)
H - "Oh," I, the little boy, am saying.
Ht "Oh," I am rubing my eyes and look-
Bjj t, ing at something very peculiar. I am
Hi very startled, but I do not forget to
H brush the dirt off my black velvet' suit.
Hi : It looks like somebody I never saw be-
Hj i fore. It is very blue. I am wonder-
Rjj ing . "Pardon me," I hear myself
Hi ( saying to it; "pardon me, but are you
H Santa Glaus?"
m "Santa Claus!" I, the Blue Devil,
H find myself sputtering. "Uuk! I am
Hr drooping my dragon Jaws open in help-
Hf less amazement. "Gug!" I am knock-
Hl ed silly, "Santa Claus! Ha, ha, ha!"
H I am bursting with mirth. "Ho, ho!"
H I am rolling. "Why?" That is all I
H can say to this little boy, I am so
I, amused. "Ho, ho."
H "Why?" I, the little boy, reply to
Hj this strange laughing creature. "Be-
H' cause," I answer him, "if you are
H I Santa Claus you must bo awfully cold
Hi) to look so blue!"
H "Cold? Ha, ha, ha," I ,the Blue
HJ Devil, roar devilishly, I am spitting
Hi three spats of flame.
H ' "And," I, the littlo boy, continue, "if
!you are him, I'm going to ask my
mamma to knit you a helmet to keep
warm.
I "Warm? ha!" I, the Blue Devil,
shout. ' I am popping with laughter.
" "Warm!" I cry again, and I am spit-
1 ting six spats of flame.
?- "Because, then," I, the little boy, re
ply to this strange Santa Claus, and I
m-t(t am very dauntless and I gaze fearless-
m'h ly into hiB shiny red eyes, "because,
M maybe, tlien you will give me what I
B ifc want for Christmas."
M I, the Blue Devil, am abashed by the
m answer this little pilgrim has just
B made to me. I am puzzled. I am
H' backing away from him. "What do
M ' you want," I am growling.
H ; "Well," I, the little boy, reply, and
H i now I am very silent for a moment
, and I am swallowing a lump in my
' f throat. Suddenly I kneel down at the
1 1 edge of this little lake and look down
mf into its silvery water. "Please, Santa
K t Claus," I say to him very low, "I want
i I you to bring me back my papa for
fl ' Christmas." And I raise my eyes to-
j wards this blue Santa Claus and they
H are very bright and great shiny tears
i' are creeping from under my black
lashes. I am holding out my hands.
"Oh, please," I beg.
"Where is your papa?" I, the Blue
Hf Devil, ask this littlo fellow, and if I
tt am to believe my own ears, my1 voice
H,'1 is very husky.
'j r "In France," I, the little boy, reply,
Hl', and I do not raise my eyes now, for I
H am crying.
M "Ha, ha, ha," I, the Blue Devil, roar.
Hl ' I am not laughing because that is what
Hu ' I should be doing, but being a devil I
Hj . don't know anything but the wrong
Hu thing to do.
Hl I, the little boy, am not daunted
Bj even now that this blue Santa Claus is
Dj laughing at me. No, I am keeping my
H;' eyes on his face and stretching out my
Hr1 hands imploringly. "Please, Santa," I
Hk V "I am a devil, I know," I, the Blue
Devil, am saying to myself. "But I am
not all bad." I am touched by this
littlo fellow's ploa. Ho thinks I am
Santa Claus; yes, I am touched.
"Where do you live?" I ask him
gruffly.
"In Seattle," I, the little boy, reply
to Santa Claus' question.
"You'd better go back home," I, the
Blue Devil, am saying to him. In re
ality I am thinking in my mind that I
had better take the little fellow down
the mountain to the train station. But
why is the silver lake so rod? I am
turning around to look at the moun
tain. Wow, it is brilliant scarlet!
The sun is setting in its lap! The
third day has passed and the moun
tain has not spoken. I am furious! I
am full of hate! Fire is welling up
from my heart. It is shooting out of
my mouth. Smoke is pouring out of
my nose. My eyes are spitting flame.
Suddenly I am more like a red devil
than a blue one. I can do nothing to
harm the mountain. I am powerless!
I am furious! I am impotent! But
there is, the little boy. Perhaps his
mother is the mountain. Immediately
all my hate and disappointment Is cen
tered on him. On him I may have re
venge! On him I may vent my rage!
Ug! I am reaching out to grasp him!
I, the little boy, am terrified. My
eyes have opened wide. I am crying.
I am afraid of this red monster, but 1
cannot run. His eyes fascinate mine.
I cannot move. His great blue hands
are on my shoulders. The flames are
close to my face. I am screaming
'Stop," a voice very sweet and ten
der is saying. It is my voice, and I am
a beautiful lady, dressed in a tailored
suit and great white furs.
I, the Blue Devil, am straightening
up and looking at a lovely woman. I
am astounded!
I, the little boy, am crying out hap
pily and now I have run to the pro
tecting arms of a radiant lady who
has just come here.
I, the Blue Devil, am fuming with
anger. "Who are you?" I roar at this
strange woman.
"I am a good fairy," I, the beautiful
lady, reply to this hideous devil, who
is roaring at me and spitting lire.
"IFairy!" I, the Blue Devil, cry out,
and I am choking with anger. "Who
ever heard of a fairy in clothes like
that?" I demand of this creature.
"Oh," I, the beautiful lady, reply to
this, "I am a Modern Fairy!"
"Modern Fairy!" I, the Blue Devil,
shout, "Modern! Well," I yell back at
her, "I'm a modern devil! I'm going
to burn you both to bits!" And I
rush towards her and the little boy.
I, the little boy, am crying out and
hiding my head.
"Stop," I, the good fairy, say to this
furious creature.
I, the Blue Devil, have stopped; I do
not know why.
Now, I, the good fairy, have turned
and am praying to the Mountain. "Oh
Mountain That Is God," I pray, "please
save my littlo boy!" And I hold out
my hands to the scarlet mountain
which is towering high above mo.
I, the Blue Devil, can go no farther.
I am forced to turn and look at the
Mountain, fearfully. It is turning
black! A great noise is rising from
its heights! Something is rushing
down the cliffs! I am giving a cry of '
terror; I am turning! I have fled!
Away from this terrible woman I flee,
around the little lake, I am screaming
in terror! Now I know that the
Mountain has spoken. Now I know
that its voice is the roar of the aval
anche! Swifter than my feet can
carry me, it is roaring down the
slopes! Swifter! Swifter! I am tired!
P am tired! I am out of breath! Oh,
God, I am afraid!
I, the little boy, am watching in ter
ror! An avalanche is roaring down
the cliffs! It is rushing onto the blue
Santa Claus! Oh, oh, it has swal
lowed him up! The ice and the rocks
have swallowed him up! There is a
terrible flash of Are! A horrible cry
is shrilling across the silver lake
"Yes, little son, I the beautiful lady,
say. "There is a horrible cry; it Is
echoing agony from peak to peak. Yes,
little son, and everything is very
black."
A scream had rung through the
wards of the great Boston hospital.
There was a running of padded feet
and the opening and closing of doors.
A woman's sobbing and the voice of a
little child echoed through the tiled
hallway for a moment. Then there
was silence.
An hour later a young nurse slipped
into the office of the hospital superin
tendent. An interne was working at
the desk filling out a case blank. The
nurse hesitated for a moment, and
' then asked in a low tone, "What waB
it, doctor?"
The interne looked up and smiled
happily. "Ah, Miss Iteid," he said,
and glancing down the hall, asked,
"You mean the scream?"
The nurse nodded her head eagerly. I
The young doctor laid down his pen 1
carefully. "A very peculiar case, ho 9
said slowly; the wife of a young of- I
fleer who sailed for France last Mon
day. Came all the way from Seattle,
I 'believe, to see him sail. Fainted
when the boat left. Has been uncon
scious since. Delirious all day. Talk
ed about mountains, her son and hus
band, and blue devils. Was afraid to
give a sedative. When she screamed
she regained consciousness. All right
now. Sleeping."
The nurse nodded sympathetically.
"And the little boy?" she said.
"With her," the doctor replied, and, .
smiling, took up his pen again. 1
The nurse turned to go.
"Blue devils," she murmured. "Fun-
ny that reminds me of Sargent's mu-
rals." Town Crier. '
!
When the Kaiser talked to his
friend Nicholas of British money to
buy' Russian newspapers, was he un- j
aware that the English secret ser- j
vice fund was 25,000 a year, always i
earmarked ahead, and under the con-
trol of parliament? j
SALT LAKE THEATRE
i
SPECIAL HOLIDAY ENGAGEMENT ;
i
Opening Christmas Mat. Tuesday, Dec. 25
and continuing remainder of week.
USUAL MATINEES WEDNESDAY AND SATURDAY
First Time in New York City Two Years in the East
fy Eilanger aaJ George Ctyletj
Present '
i Glad Pla
OJLLr
&TkT A
ral mM JF m
ERINE CHISHOLM CuSHINCr
K of the Same Name by Eleanor H.Pottec
lovwrilp ItatuiigFolksEnjoy
Prices: Xmas Mat. 25c to $1.50. Nights 50c to $1.50
Wednesday and Saturday Mat., Best Seats $1.00
"i MM III