CAVE MADE WALKS
WHEN HE WAS HERE.
ENGLISH BARONET NOW POSES
AS WILD WESTERNER.
In Lloyd's Weekly He Tells of His
Adventures, but Doesn't Mention
Cement Walks -- Wanted to
Marry a Waiter Girl.
The girl who refused to marry Cave will be sorry. Nothin' but a graitoid sidewalk layer, so he was, but it is all right. He has come over with the title and the coat-of-arms. He is gushing all over the shop about his being a "cowboy," and the current number of Lloyd's Weekly News has a full page of his autobiography, and it is rank rot, but he is a baronet, all right, all right, and the girl he asked to marry him when he was working for Knapp & Coumbe in this city, laying sidewalk out in the Sunny Slope district, will be sorry. She could have been "my lady" by this time.
And maybe she would have been over with it, too, by this time, for the duration of a marriage to a titled foreigner is not great.
As for the sidewalk laborer, who said that when his father died he would be a baronet, Lloyd's says it is all so. Lloyd's is a London weekly budget with a circulation of 1,250,000, so it amounts to something. The last issue of the paper to arrive in Kansas City announces that Sir Genille Cave-Browne-Cave had, two days before, assumed his title, inherited from his father, recently dead, and that his first administrative act had been to "give" to the Episcopal rector on his estate the "living," meaning that the sidewalk laborer, as an English baronet, has the right to appoint the clergyman in his district, Episcopal clergy in England being paid out of the government coffers.
RUNS BACK TO THE BRUSH.
Cave's pedigree, according to Lloyd, and not according to Cave himself, goes back to the time of William the Conqueror, when Jordan de Cave got on the books as an estate holder. There is a picture of the sidewalk laborer's mansion and a copy of his arms and crest. The girl who refused to have him when he was working laying granitoid now has a job in a restaurant, knowing no more about a coat-of-arms than she does of the records of the Garter king of arms, who has had the scare of his life over the returned wanderer.
Cave's biography is to be a Continued Next Week affair. In it Sir Genille says that he was born in 1867 and had a cranky father. The opening chapters treat of Cave's life in the British army, where he saw no fighting, and his meeting up with Colonel Cody's minions and deciding to run away to America to be a cowboy. There is a picture of me lud roping a Norman Percheron. The dook has chaps on, great wooly things, a gun and spurs with rowels like buzz saws.
The rope has gone around the imported pinto's neck, but his grace has got him stopped. Even tenderfeet hereabouts have a suspicion that a rope around a horse's neck would be disastrous to the man at the other end, but the picture goes well in England, and Kansas City is not supposed to know anything about it.
NOT AS SIDEWALK MAN.
There are four illustrations, not one showing his royal highness pounding wet ashes to make a bed for the granitoid. The least said about that sort of thing the better. What the noble earl is doping out to his astonished fellow citizens is that he was a terror from the start to the present writing, and that he was in the First Dragoon Guards, the Twenty-first infantry, twice to Australia and the bush and wound up as a cowboy before his father, the eleventh baronet, died. The thing that he is thrilling England with his career as a cowboy. Next week's Lloyd is to bring the chapter here, where those "damned eye witnesses," whom the late Colonel John T. Crisp so heartily despised, lived.
"When I knew Cave," said a chum of the newly established baronet yesterday, "he had a job here as a common laborer. He was drinking a bit, but not very much. I did not think he was crazy. He bought a saloon out one time, or at least made a contract to buy it, and then flunked. I thought it was all right. He was not very drunk at the time. He told me his father was Sir Mylles Cave-Browne-Cave of Leicestershire. I did not believe him. None of us did. We just supposed he was mouthing, like some chaps do, you know.
"He took a drop too many one night and asked a girl to marry him. She balked and he begged her pardon, but said she would regret it, as one day he would come in for a pot of money. She thought he was mouthing, too, for he was behind in his board then. He was a hard working chap, made friends and kept 'em and did very well in his way. He was not a common looking chap. Quite the opposite when he liked to be. His great fun was to dress up and play the heavy swell. My, but he could put it on.
"We thought he had been a valet somewhere or other, perhaps, never thinking he was sure enough heir apparent to a baronetcy. I do not know now that he is worth a dollar. There may not be a cent to the title. However, I expect we shall find there was. I see that his father was a crank of the first water, refusing to see the boy under any circumstances. I believe this, for the boy told me he would not want to see his father except under extraordinary circumstances. They were a well matched pair."
Lloyd's says the Kansas City man is a baronet because of the game of polo. An elder brother, born to inherit the title, was killed while playing the game. The picture of Sir Genille supplied the London paper is that of "The Cowboy Baronet" but the hat, striped shirt and belt are said to be the same ones he wore when he was doing nothing more dare-deviling than troweling cement out Forty-fourth street way.
Sir Genille threatens to come back to this country to marry a Denver girl.
