Two bystanders who witnessed this incident began to argue as to what would have happened had the American gentleman been a Filipino. One of them said that if the man were a Filipino and had argued with the officer of the law in that way, he would have received a good knock on his head. The other said that he was satisfied with the way the American policeman behaved himself.
I then returned and walked toward the central gate of the carnival grounds, and there, to my surprise, I saw the very same American gentleman come and walk straight inside without saying a word to the guard. Then a Filipino came along and asked the guard to be allowed to go in, but, unfortunately, according to the guard, only the stockholders were allowed to enter.
Was the American gentleman a stockholder? He alone knows.
—Adolfo Scheerer.
IV. The Tale of Actual Adventure
Tales of actual adventure differ from the other true narratives in the fact of the necessary presence of an exciting occurrence. Danger at hand and overcome is the keynote of the action. The happening may be slight or tremendous, or serious or humorous; but in every case it acquires a certain amount of dignity from the possible disaster.
The narration is usually in the first person, though not necessarily. In the "Library of Universal Adventure," compiled by William Dean Howells and Thomas Sergeant Perry eighteen years ago, the larger number of the stories are autobiographic in form. This book is a quaint comment on Howells's non-sensationalistic attitude of today. Though purporting to be true, these stories are almost lurid in their romanticism. They present man in the familiar struggle with untimely death, led thither by various motives and accidents. We see Pliny the Elder with insatiable curiosity sailing calmly toward the destructive volcano; we see the lonely scientist Audubon on his Western trip in early America weighing his chance of life against his watch, that is coveted by a murderous hag and her two drunken sons; we see the runaway slave Frederick Douglass, attempting to slip along the very precarious underground railroad to safety; of course, there is mutiny at sea, and shipwreck on unknown shores. Indeed, here we find all the despised paraphernalia of blood-curdling romance, true, with Mr. Howells's name signed on the package.[10]
Obviously such stories are written to climaxes, though any manifest straining for emphasis in a true narrative is resented by the reader. All the skill you have got from your former attempts to write realistically ought to help you here. You should put in enough minutiæ to convince, but omit enough to be interesting. The general effect of your style should be that of directness and swiftness. Whatever power of psychological analysis you have, should come to your aid, but it should appear only in keen and brief flashes as you hurry along with the events. Descriptive touches of objective nature may be used for emphasis in harmony or contrast, especially at the end or the beginning of the adventure, though these are a somewhat trite device. Whatever else you do, try to write simply and naturally. Do not exaggerate. You will be judged chiefly on your tone of veracity.
There is a large and interesting field here for the amateur writer. This type of story allies itself with the probable adventure, and in fact is generally lost therein. The successful authors of boys' books for the most part make use of the coalescence. Boys at a certain age are extremely exacting, and when their entertainers have to relate their stories orally as well as pen them, they are often as solicitous to find authority for their fictions as were Macpherson and Chatterton.