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Updated: June 5, 2025
Alonzo Fitz Clarence were buried in sweet converse concerning the pleasures of their several bridal tours, when suddenly the young wife exclaimed: "Oh, Lonny, I forgot! I did what I said I would." "Did you, dear?" "Indeed, I did. I made him the April fool! And I told him so, too! Ah, it was a charming surprise!
Then, as the day for the introduction of the bill for appropriation draws nigh, up from the San Saba country rides Lonny Briscoe and a loyal lobby of cowpunchers, bronco-back, to boost the cause of art and glorify the name of friendship, for Lonny is one of them, a knight of stirrup and chaparreras, as handy with the lariat and .45 as he is with brush and palette.
The hotel clerk told Lonny that a famous artist from New York had arrived in town that day and was in the hotel. He was on his way westward to New Mexico to study the effect of sunlight upon the ancient walls of the Zuñis. Modern stones reflect light. Those ancient building materials absorb it.
Oliver Carter is your uncle, I believe?" said the visitor. "Yes." "I met him on Broadway the other day. He was looking very well." "It must have been a fortnight since, then. Uncle Oliver is in Florida." "In Florida!" repeated Mrs. Vangriff, in surprise. "When did he go?" "When was it, Lonny?" asked Mrs. Pitkin, appealing to her son. "It will be two weeks next Thursday."
"He appears to have done so already," said her husband dryly. "I mean, suppose he should adopt him?" "You are getting on pretty fast, Lavinia, are you not?" "Such things happen sometimes," said the lady, nodding. "If it should happen it would be bad for poor Lonny." "Even in that case Lonny won't have to go to the poor-house." "Mr. Pitkin, you don't realize the danger.
With these interests happily dovetailed, wonder at the sudden interest in art at the state capital must, necessarily, be small. Few artists have uncovered their first picture to the world under happier auspices than did Lonny Briscoe. Senators Kinney and Mullens came to an understanding in the matter of irrigation and art while partaking of long drinks in the café of the Empire Hotel.
"How do?" growled Alonzo, staring enviously at Phil's handsome new suit, which was considerably handsomer than his own. "Very well, Alonzo." "You must come and see Lonny," said Mrs. Pitkin pleasantly. "Thank you!" answered Phil politely. He did not say it was a pleasure, for he was a boy of truth, and he did not feel that it would be. Uncle Oliver was partially deceived by his niece's new manner.
Perhaps it seemed thus to Hot Tamales. The scene was in his line. Perhaps he only obeyed the will of his rider. His ears pricked up; he snorted. Lonny leaned forward in the saddle and elevated his elbows, wing-like. Thus signals the cowpuncher to his steed to launch himself full speed ahead.
Lonny mounted Hot Tamales, the accomplished little beast prancing with fire and intelligence. He was glad to feel Lonny's bowlegged grip against his ribs again. Lonny was his friend, and he was willing to do things for him. "Come on, boys," said Lonny, urging Hot Tomales into a gallop with his knees. With a whoop, the inspired lobby tore after him through the dust.
The artist wanted this effect in a picture he was painting, and was traveling two thousand miles to get it. Lonny sought this man out after dinner and told his story. The artist was an unhealthy man, kept alive by genius and indifference to life. He went with Lonny to the Capitol and stood there before the picture. The artist pulled his beard and looked unhappy.
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