Genre Fiction. Page - 241

u had millions what would you do? Retire, of course. Build or buy a beautiful house--and then?'

'I don't know,' said the older man vaguely. 'One could travel... '

'The English people have two ideas of happiness: one comes from travel, one from staying still! Rushing or rusting! I might marry but I don't wish to marry. I might have a great stable of race-horses, but I detest racing. I might yacht--I loathe the sea. Suppose I want a thrill? I do! The art of living is the art of victory. Make a note of that. Where is happiness in cards, horses, golf, women-anything you like? I'll tell you: in beating the best man to it! That's An Americanism. Where is the joy of mountain climbing, of exploration, of scientific discovery? To do better than somebody else--to go farther, to put your foot on the head of the next best.'

He blew a cloud of smoke through the open window and waited until the breeze had torn the misty gossamer into shreds and nothingness.

'When you're a millionaire you either

r creature at his side; but she soonturned with a look of surprise to her relative, and said hesitatingly,for both had often admired the Tuscarora's knowledge, or, we mightalmost say, instinct, --

"A pale-face's fire! Surely, uncle, he cannot know _that_?"

"Ten days since, child, I would have sworn to it; but now I hardlyknow what to believe. May I take the liberty of asking, Arrowhead,why you fancy that smoke, now, a pale-face's smoke, and not ared-skin's?"

"Wet wood," returned the warrior, with the calmness with whichthe pedagogue might point out an arithmetical demonstration to hispuzzled pupil. "Much wet -- much smoke; much water -- black smoke."

"But, begging your pardon, Master Arrowhead, the smoke is notblack, nor is there much of it. To my eye, now, it is as lightand fanciful a smoke as ever rose from a captain's tea-kettle, whennothing was left to make the fire but a few chips from the dunnage."

"Too much water," returned Arrowhead, with a slight nod of thehead; "Tuscar

owardly Lion has kingly parents and a palm tree! But I must keep thinking. My brains have never failed me yet. Who was I? Who were I? Who were I?"

Often he thought so hard that he forgot to look where he was going and ran headlong into fences, stumbled down gutters, and over stiles. But fortunately, the dear fellow could not hurt himself, and he would struggle up, pat his straw into shape, and walk straightway into something else. He made good time in between falls, however, and was soon well on his way down the yellow brick road that ran through the Munchkin Country. For he had determined to return to the Munchkin farm where Dorothy had first discovered him and try to find some traces of his family.

Now being stuffed with straw had many advantages, for requiring neither food nor sleep the Scarecrow could travel night and day without interruption. The stars winked out one by one, and by the time the cocks of the Munchkin farmers began to crow, he had come to the banks of a broad blue river!

lain the matter to his mother and sister? For they might return before he did, and would be sure to ask innumerable questions.

And the girl--would she go with him? If not, what should he do with her? And about her dress? Was it such as his "friend" could wear to one of Mrs. Parker Bowman's exclusive dinners? To his memory, it seemed quiet and refined. Perhaps that was all that was required for a woman who was travelling. There it was again! But he had not said she was travelling, nor that she had just returned from abroad, nor that she was a musician. How could he answer such questions about an utter stranger, and yet how could he not answer them, under the circumstances?

And she wore no hat, nor cloak. That would be a strange way to arrive at a dinner How could she accept? He was settling his coat into place when a queer little bulge attracted his attention to an inside pocket. Impatiently he pulled out a pair of long white gloves. They were his sister's, and he now remembered she had given the

d hear. She heard Danny Meadow Mouse running along one of his little tunnels under the snow.

Plunge! Old Granny Fox dived right into the snow and right through into the tunnel of Danny Meadow Mouse. Her two black paws actually touched Danny's tail. He was glad then that it was no longer.

"Ha!" cried Granny Fox, "I almost got him that time!"

Then she ran ahead a little way over the snow, listening as before. Plunge! Into the snow she went again. It was lucky for him that Danny had just turned into another tunnel, for otherwise she would surely have caught him.

Granny Fox blew the snow out of her nose. "Next time I'll get him!" said she.

Now Reddy Fox is quick to learn, especially when it is a way to get something to eat. He watched Granny Fox, and when he understood what she was doing, he made up his mind to have a try himself, for he was afraid that if she caught Danny Meadow Mouse, she would think that he was not big enough to divide. Perhaps that was because Reddy is very

the time-- and suddenly smiled and said, as he sat down again:

"Sorry. But, of course, you don't understand such things." Then he went on talking before father had time to say a word.

"Let us get back to business. As you do not seem to follow me, let me explain that it is BECAUSE I do not forget that I wish to do this. I remember my dear mother's wish to make Aunt Janet happy, and would like to do as she did."

"AUNT Janet?" said father, very properly sneering at his ignorance. "She is not your aunt. Why, even her sister, who was married to your uncle, was only your aunt by courtesy." I could not help feeling that Rupert meant to be rude to my father, though his words were quite polite. If I had been as much bigger than him as he was than me, I should have flown at him; but he was a very big boy for his age. I am myself rather thin. Mother says thinness is an "appanage of birth."

"My Aunt Janet, sir, is an aunt by love. Courtesy is a small word to use in connection with such devoti

his place, when his neighbors presented him with pens and a print; and another boy, from the last bench, sent him a Swiss postage-stamp.

MY COMRADES.

Tuesday, 25th.

The boy who sent the postage-stamp to the Calabrian is the one who pleases me best of all. His name is Garrone: he is the biggest boy in the class: he is about fourteen years old; his head is large, his shoulders broad; he is good, as one can see when he smiles; but it seems as though he always thought like a man. I already know many of my comrades. Another one pleases me, too, by the name of Coretti, and he wears chocolate-colored trousers and a catskin cap: he is always jolly; he is the son of a huckster of wood, who was a soldier in the war of 1866, in the squadron of Prince Umberto, and they say that he has three medals. There is little Nelli, a poor hunchback, a weak boy, with a thin face. There is one who is very well dressed, who always wears fine Florentine plush, and is named Votini. On the bench in front of

he Chief of Police47. Al-Malik Al-Nasir and the Three Chiefs of Policea. Story of the Chief of Police of Cairob. Story of the Chief of the Bulak Policec. Story of the Chief of the Old Cairo Police48. The Thief and the Shroff49. The Chief of the Kus Police and the Sharper50. Ibrahim Bin Al-Mahdi and the Merchant's Sister51. The Woman Whose Hands were Cut Off For Giving Alms to thePoor52. The Devout Israelite53. Abu Hassan Al-Ziyadi and the Khorasan54. The Poor Man and His Friend in Need55. The Ruined Man Who became Rich Again Through A Dream56. Caliph Al-Mutawakkil and His Concubine Mahbubah57. Wardan the Butcher; His Adventure With the Lady and the Bear58. The King's Daughter and the Ape

The Book of the Thousand Nights and A Night

Ni'amah bin al-Rabi'a and Naomi his Slave-girl.

There lived once in the city of Cufa[FN#1] a man called Al-Rabí'abin Hátim, who was one of the chief men of the town, a wealth

Just us three. Maybe we can reallyfind something. May be cinnabar in it."

"May be indigo," Jeff suggested, with his lazy smile.

It was early yet; we had just breakfasted; and leaving wordthat we'd be back before night, we got away quietly, not wishingto be thought too gullible if we failed, and secretly hoping tohave some nice little discovery all to ourselves.

It was a long two hours, nearer three. I fancy the savage couldhave done it alone much quicker. There was a desperate tangleof wood and water and a swampy patch we never should havefound our way across alone. But there was one, and I could seeTerry, with compass and notebook, marking directions and tryingto place landmarks.

We came after a while to a sort of marshy lake, very big, sothat the circling forest looked quite low and dim across it. Ourguide told us that boats could go from there to our camp--but"long way--all day."

This water was somewhat clearer than that we had left, butwe could no

t tell us how his son comes to be your guest," President Bonnet urged.

"It is very simple: Etienne Rambert is an energetic man who is always moving about. Although he is quite sixty he still occupies himself with some rubber plantations he possesses in Colombia, and he often goes to America: he thinks no more of the voyage than we do of a trip to Paris. Well, just recently young Charles Rambert was leaving the pension in Hamburg where he had been living in order to perfect his German; I knew from his father's letters that Mme. Rambert was about to be put away, and that Etienne Rambert was obliged to be absent, so I offered to receive Charles here until his father should return to Paris. Charles came the day before yesterday, and that is the whole story."

"And M. Etienne Rambert joins him here to-morrow?" said the Abbé.

"That is so----"

* * * * *

The Marquise de Langrune would have given other information about her young friend had he not come into the room ju