"Why, Colonel Nelson!" said the dismayed attorney. "Do you mean to say you don't want to be fair?" "Yes, sir!" said the Colonel. "When has your company been fair to Kansas City? When you are fair my young men will be fair!" * * * * * If there is one thing about the "Star" more amazing than another, it is perhaps the effect it can produce by mere negative action--that is, by ignoring its enemies instead of attacking them. In one case a man who had made most objectionable attacks on Colonel Nelson personally, was treated to such a course of discipline, with the result, I was informed, that he was ultimately ruined. The "Star" did not assail him. It simply refused to accept advertising from him and declined to mention his name or to refer to his enterprises. When the victim of this singular reprisal was writhing under it, a prominent citizen called at Colonel Nelson's office to plead with the Colonel to "let up." "Colonel," he protested, "you ought not to keep after this man. It is ruining his business." "Keep after him?" repeated the Colonel. "I'm not keeping after him. For me he doesn't exist." "That's just the trouble," urged the mediator. "Now, Colonel, you're getting to be an old man. Wouldn't you be happier when you lay down at night if you could think to yourself that there wasn't a single man in Kansas City who was worse off because of any action on your part?" At that occurred a sudden eruption of the old volcano. "By God!" cried the Colonel. "I couldn't sleep!" CHAPTER XXV KEEPING A PROMISE _The shades of night were falling fast, As through a western landscape passed A car, which bore, 'mid snow and ice, Two trav'lers taking this advice: Visit Excelsior Springs!_ Have you ever heard of the city of Excelsior Springs, Missouri? I never had until the letters began to come. The first one reached me in Detroit. It told me that Excelsior Springs desired to be "written up," and offered me, as an inducement to come there, the following arguments: paved streets, beautiful scenery, three modern, fire-proof hotels, flourishing lodges, live churches, fine saddle horses, an eighteen-hole golf course ("2d to none," the letter said) four distinct varieties of mineral water, and--Frank James. The mention of Frank James stirred poignant memories of my youth: recollections of forbidden "nickel novels" dealing with the wild deeds alleged to have been committed by the James Boys, Frank and Jesse, and their "Gang." I used to keep these literary treasures concealed behind a dusty furnace pipe in the cellar of the old house in Chicago. On rainy days I would steal down and get them, and, retiring to some out-of-the-way corner of the attic, would read and re-read them in a kind of ecstasy of horror--a horror which was enhanced by the eternal fear of being discovered with such trash in my possession.