Yes! ... The _Scientific American_ yet
once more! Oh, it's good! it's good!" His voice broke as he pressed his
hawk-like nose against the heavily-inked patent-specifications at the end.
"Can I keep it? I thank you--I thank you! Why--why--well--well! The
_American Tyler_ of all things created! Do you subscribe to that?"
"I'm on the free list," said the visitor, nodding.
He extended his blue-tanned hand with that air of Oriental spaciousness
which distinguishes the native-born American, and met the visitor's grasp
expertly. "I can only say that you have treated me like a Brother (yes,
I'll take every last one you can spare), and if ever--" He plucked at the
bosom of his shirt. "Psha! I forgot I'd no card on me; but my name's
Zigler--Laughton G. Zigler. An American? If Ohio's still in the Union, I
am, Sir. But I'm no extreme States'-rights man. I've used all of my native
country and a few others as I have found occasion, and now I am the
captive of your bow and spear. I'm not kicking at that. I am not a coerced
alien, nor a naturalised Texas mule-tender, nor an adventurer on the
instalment plan. _I_ don't tag after our consul when he comes around,
expecting the American Eagle to lift me out o' this by the slack of my
pants. No, sir! If a Britisher went into Indian Territory and shot up his
surroundings with a Colt automatic (not that _she's_ any sort of weapon,
but I take her for an illustration), he'd be strung up quicker'n a
snowflake 'ud melt in hell.
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