THE REPORTER
I
THE committee of the Colorado Senate, sitting on the Las Animas election protest at the Capitol, had adjourned sine die, and the political reporter of the Denver World was free to look for "action" elsewhere. He was looking for it in the register of the Hotel Capitol, where he hoped to find the names of some Las Animas visitors who might be interviewed before they were called to go on the witness stand; but he was not looking very eagerly, for the Las Animas scandals were now an old story that was printed without leads among the jumps and tail-ends on page five.
His black bowler hat was raked down over his eyes; an unlighted cigarette hung from his lower lip; his hands were thrust deep into his trousers pockets. It was his opinion that nothing exciting had happened in Colorado since the Cripple Creek labor war—when he had been deported from the State by the military authorities—and his attitude of cynical ennui expressed the hope deferred that makes sad the heart of the prowling newspaper man.
He had a round, smooth face, dark-browed, and as inexpressive as the back of a playing-card. He was known as the best poker-player in the Denver Press Club, where men who have learned the game in mining
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