〃They　wanted　Brevet…Colonel　Willie　to　get　into　a　carriage　and　be　drawn　　by　prominent　citizens　and　some　of　the　city　aldermen　to　the　armory；　but　　he　stuck　to　his　company　and　marched　at　the　head　of　it　up　Sam　Houston　　Avenue。　　The　buildings　on　both　sides　was　covered　with　flags　and　　audiences；　and　everybody　hollered　'Robbins！'　or　'Hello；　Willie！'　as　we　　marched　up　in　files　of　fours。　　I　never　saw　a　illustriouser…looking　　human　in　my　life　than　Willie　was。　　He　had　at　least　seven　or　eight　　medals　and　diplomas　and　decorations　on　the　breast　of　his　khaki　coat；　　he　was　sunburnt　the　color　of　a　saddle；　and　he　certainly　done　himself　　proud。
  〃They　told　us　at　the　depot　that　the　courthouse　was　to　be　illuminated　　at　half…past　seven；　and　there　would　be　speeches　and　chili…con…came　at　　the　Palace　Hotel。　　Miss　Delphine　Thompson　was　to　read　an　original　poem　　by　James　Whitcomb　Ryan；　and　Constable　Hooker　had　promised　us　a　salute　　of　nine　guns　from　Chicago　that　he　had　arrested　that　day。
  〃After　we　had　disbanded　in　the　armory；　Willie　says　to　me：
  〃'Want　to　walk　out　a　piece　with　me？'
  〃'Why；　yes；'　says　I；　'if　it　ain't　so　far　that　we　can't　hear　the　tumult　　and　the　shouting　die　away。　　I'm　hungry　myself；'　says　I；　'and　I'm　　pining　for　some　home　grub；　but　I'll　go　with　you。'
  〃Willie　steered　me　down　some　side　streets　till　we　came　to　a　little　　white　cottage　in　a　new　lot　with　a　twenty…by…thirty…foot　lawn　decorated　　with　brickbats　and　old　barrel…staves。
  〃'Halt　and　give　the　countersign；'　says　I　to　Willie。　　'Don't　you　know　　this　dugout？　　It's　the　bird's…nest　that　Joe　Granberry　built　before　he　　married　Myra　Allison。　　What　you　going　there　for？'
  〃But　Willie　already　had　the　gate　open。　　He　walked　up　the　brick　walk　to　　the　steps；　and　I　went　with　him。　　Myra　was　sitting　in　a　rocking…chair　　on　the　porch；　sewing。　　Her　hair　was　smoothed　back　kind　of　hasty　and　　tied　in　a　knot。　　I　never　noticed　till　then　that　she　had　freckles。　　Joe　　was　at　one　side　of　the　porch；　in　his　shirtsleeves；　with　no　collar　on；　　and　no　signs　of　a　shave；　trying　to　scrape　out　a　hole　among　the　　brickbats　and　tin　cans　to　plant　a　little　fruit…tree　in。　　He　looked　up　　but　never　said　a　word；　and　neither　did　Myra。
  〃Willie　was　sure　dandy…looking　in　his　uniform；　with　medals　strung　on　　his　breast　and　his　new　gold…handled　sword。　　You'd　never　have　taken　him　　for　the　little　white…headed　snipe　that　the　girls　used　to　order　about　　and　make　fun　of。　　He　just　stood　there　for　a　minute；　looking　at　Myra　　with　a　peculiar　little　smile　on　his　face；　and　then　he　says　to　her；　　slow；　and　kind　of　holding　on　to　his　words　with　his　teeth：
  〃'Oh；　I　don't　know！　　Maybe　I　could　if　I　tried！'
  〃That　was　all　that　was　said。　　Willie　raised　his　hat；　and　we　walked　　away。
  〃And；　somehow；　when　he　said　that；　I　remembered；　all　of　a　sudden；　the　　night　of　that　dance　and　Willie　brushing　his　hair　before　the　looking…　glass；　and　Myra　sticking　her　head　in　the　door　to　guy　him。
  〃When　we　got　back　to　Sam　Houston　Avenue；　Willie　says：
  〃'Well；　so　long；　Ben。　　I'm　going　down　home　and　get　off　my　shoes　and　　take　a　rest。'
  〃'You？'　says　I。　　'What's　the　matter　with　you？　　Ain't　the　court…house　　jammed　with　everybody　in　town　waiting　to　honor　the　hero？　　And　two　　brass…bands；　and　recitations　and　flags　and　jags　and　grub　to　follow　　waiting　for　you？'
  〃Willie　sighs。
  〃'All　right；　Ben；'　says　he。　　'Darned　if　I　didn't　forget　all　about　　that。'
  〃And　that's　why　I　say；〃　concluded　Ben　Granger；　〃that　you　can't　tell　　where　ambition　begins　any　more　than　you　can　where　it　is　going　to　wind　　up。〃
  THE　HEAD…HUNTER
  When　the　war　between　Spain　and　George　Dewey　was　over；　I　went　to　the　　Philippine　Islands。　　There　I　remained　as　bushwhacker　correspondent　for　　my　paper　until　its　managing　editor　notified　me　that　an　eight…hundred…　word　cablegram　describing　the　grief　of　a　pet　carabao　over　the　death　of　　an　infant　Moro　was　not　considered　by　the　office　to　be　war　news。　　So　I　　resigned；　and　came　home。
  On　board　the　trading…vessel　that　brought　me　back　I　pondered　much　upon　　the　strange　things　I　had　sensed　in　the　weird　archipelago　of　the　　yellow…brown　people。　　The　manoeuvres　and　skirmishings　of　the　petty　war　　interested　me　not：　I　was　spellbound　by　the　outlandish　and　unreadable　　countenance　of　that　race　that　had　turned　its　expressionless　gaze　upon　　us　out　of　an　unguessable　past。
  Particularly　during　my　stay　in　Mindanao　had　I　been　fascinated　and　　attracted　by　that　delightfully　original　tribe　of　heathen　known　as　the　　head…hunters。　　Those　grim；　flinty；　relentless　little　men；　never　seen；　　but　chilling　the　warmest　noonday　by　the　subtle　terror　of　their　　concealed　presence；　paralleling　the　trail　of　their　prey　through　　unmapped　forests；　across　perilous　mountain…tops；　adown　bottomless　　chasms；　into　uninhabitable　jungles；　always　near　with　the　invisible　　hand　of　death　uplifted；　betraying　their　pursuit　only　by　such　signs　as　　a　beast　or　a　bird　or　a　gliding　serpent　might　make…a　twig　crackling　in　　the　awful；　sweat…soaked　night；　a　drench　of　dew　showering　from　the　　screening　foliage　of　a　giant　tree；　a　whisper　at　even　from　the　rushes　　of　a　water…level…a　hint　of　death　for　every　mile　and　every　hour…they　　amused　me　greatly；　those　little　fellows　of　one　idea。
  When　you　think　of　it；　their　method　is　beautifully　and　almost　　hilariously　effective　and　simple。
  You　have　your　hut　in　which　you　live　and　carry　out　the　destiny　that　was　　decreed　for　you。　　Spiked　to　the　jamb　of　your　bamboo　doorway　is　a　　basket　made　of　green　withes；　plaited。　　From　time　to　time；　as　vanity　or　　ennui　or　love　or　jealousy　or　ambition　may　move　you；　you　creep　forth　　with　your　snickersnee　and　take　up　the　silent　trail。　　Back　from　it　you　　come；　triumphant；　bearing　the　severed；　gory　head　of　your　victim；　which　　you　deposit　with　pardonable　pride　in　the　basket　at　the　side　of　your　　door。　　It　may　be　the　head　of　your　enemy；　your　friend；　or　a　stranger；　　according　as　competition；　jealousy；　or　simple　sportiveness　has　been　　your　incentive　to　labor。
  In　any　case；　your　reward　is　certain。　　The　village　men；　in　passing；　　stop　to　congratulate　you；　as　your　neighbor　on　weaker　planes　of　life　　stops　to　admire　and　praise　the　begonias　in　your　front　yard。　　Your　　particular　brown　maid　lingers；　with　fluttering　bosom；　casting　soft　　tiger's　eyes　at　the　evidence　of　your　love　for　her。　　You　chew　betel…nut　　and　listen；　content；　to　the　intermittent　soft　drip　from　the　ends　of　　the　severed　neck　arteries。　　And　you　show　your　teeth　and　grunt　like　a　　water…buffalowhich　is　as　near　as　you　can　come　to　laughing…at　the　　thought　that　the　cold；　acephalous　body　of　your　door　ornament　is　being　　spotted　by　wheeling　vultures　in　the　Mindanaoan　wilds。
  Truly；　the　life　of　the　merry　head…hunter　captivated　me。　　He　had　　reduced　art　and　philosophy　to　a　simple　code。　　To　take　your　adversary's　　head；　to　basket　it　at　the　portal　of　your　castle；　to　see　it　lying　　there；　a　dead　thing；　with　its　cunning　and　stratagems　and　power　gone　　　Is　there　a　better　way　to　foil　his　plots；　to　refute　his　arguments；　to　　establish　your　superiority　over　his　skill　and　wisdom？
  The　ship　that　brought　me　home　was　captained　by　an　erratic　Swede；　who　　changed　his　course　and　deposited　me；　with　genuine　compassion；　in　a　　small　town　on　the　Pacific　coast　of　one　of　the　Central　American　　republics；　a　few　hundred　miles　south　of　the　port　to　which　he　had　　engaged　to　convey　me。　　But　I　was　wearied　of　movement　and　exotic　　fancies；　so　I　leaped　contentedly　upon　the　firm　sands　of　the　village　of　　Mojada；　telling　myself　I　should　be　sure　to　find　there　the　rest　that　I　　craved。　　After　all；　far　better　to　linger　there　（I　thought）；　lulled　by　　the　sedative　plash　of　the　waves　and　the　rustling　of　palm…fronds；　than　　to　sit　upon　the　horsehair　sofa　of　my　parental　home　in　the　East；　and　　there；　cast　down　by　currant　wine　and　cake；　and　scourged　by　fatuous　　relatives；　drivel　into　the　ears　of　gaping　neighbors　sad　stories　of　the　　death　of　colonial　governors。
  When　I　first　saw　Chloe　Greene　she　was　standing；　all　in　white；　in　the　　doorway　of　her　father's　tile…roofed　'dobe　house。　　She　was　polishing　a　　silver　cup　with　a　cloth；　and　she　looked　like　a　pearl　laid　against　　black　velvet。　　She　turned　on　me　a　flatteringly　protracted　but　a　　wiltingly　disapproving　gaze；　and　then　went　inside；　humming　a　light　　song　to　indicate　the　value　she　placed　upon　my　existence。
  Small　wonder：　for　Dr。　　Stamford　（the　most　disreputable　professional　　man　between　Juneau　and　Valparaiso）　and　I　were　zigzagging　along　the　　turfy　street；　tunelessly　singing　the　words　of　Auld　Lang　Syne　to　the　　air　of　Muzzer's　Little　Coal…Black　Coon。　　We　had　come　from　the　ice　　factory；　which　was　Mojada's　palace　of　wickedness；　where　we　had　been　　playing　billiards　and　opening　black　bottles；　white　with　frost；　that　we　　dragged　with　strings　out　of　old　Sandoval's　ice…cold　vats。
  I　turned　in　sudden　rage　to　Dr。　　Stamford；　as　sober　as　the　verger　of　a　　cathedral。　　In　a　moment　I　had　become　aware　that　we　were　swine　cast　　before　a　pearl。
  〃You　beast；〃　I　said；　〃this　is　half　your　doing。　　And　the　other　half　is　　the　fault　of　this　cursed　country。　　I'd　better　have　gone　back　to　　Sleepy…town　and　died　in　a　wild　orgy　of　currant　wine　and　buns　than　to　　have　had　this　happen。〃
  Stamford　filled　the　empty　street　with　his　roaring　laughter。
  〃You　too！〃　he　cried。　　〃And　all　as　quick　as　the　popping　of　a　cork。　　　Well；　she　does　se