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Show In Dime-Novel Hero. BY FANNIE WILLIAMS. .. I ig$g$8Ci1;tMill-itll'i IT wua one o'clock hi tho morning, I very chilly for May, und a clamp mist was gathering iu tho air. ' fl rolicuuuin Packard, ua ho paced Ida ( fl beat near Iho freight depot, pulled hia t B coat collar up around Ids neck with a B shiver, and mentally observed that it I B was likely Jo rain before daylight. , B Just then, coming' around the corner B of the building, Juh practiced eye dia- B cerned, through the mist and darkness, B the figure of a boy, who wan apparently B ' trying to force open the sliding door of fl a freight cur. B The ofilccr approached and laid a B hand upon his shoulder, whereat the B' hoy started, with a cry of terror, and B ' attempted to escape. But the officer B hekl him and demanded: B "What nro you doing here, boy?' B ' "Nothing." faltered the lad in a fl frightened voice. B "Nothing," repeated the policeman, fl looking him over and comprehending H bis caso nt a glance. "You're fooling K around these cars at one o'clock in the fl morning for nothing, aro you?" fl "I I wanted to get in- some place fl where I could sleep and and keep fl , warm," stammered the youthful vcap- M tivc. ; "Why don't you go home and sleep?" fl asked the officer. "I haven't any home," replied the boy, I hanging his head and blushing guiltily, I as he added: "Not now, I mean." "Ah I" said tho officer, dryly. "How's that?" ' The boy hesitated and shifted his feet uneasily, as if he would have tried to break away from the officer's hold, if he had dared. ITe was about 13 years old, neatly dressed, and wore one of the military M caps which had just come into favor fl with the boys. II 13 face had a look of fl innocence and youthful candor, which B did not help him greatly in his en-B en-B deavor to inventa plausible explanation fl of his midnight wanderings. B ' Finally he said: "I'm an orphan, sir. I lived with my fl relations out in the country; but they fl they got tired of me and told me to leave, and and bo I came to the city. , w I thought I might get a chance to go out ,J, west." , "And you were going to steal n rido In the freight car?" said the ofilcer, with a grim smile. "I thought so. What I on earth do you expect to do out west, fl If you ever get there?" I The lad looked sulky, and made no I answer. Ho had probably been taught H by experience that he need not look to his elders for sympathy with, his heroic dreams of adventure in the great west. fl "When did 3-011 loavo home?" inquired fl the officer. fl "Yesterday," was the brief reply. fl The policeman asked a few more quea- tlons, but, finding the boy not inclined to be very communicative, he took him to the station, and handed him over to the lieutenant in charge. The young1 adventurer wns dismayed to find himself inside n police station for the first time in his life; but the ' lieutenant spoke to him kindly, saying: "You will he comfortable enough here for the night", my lad, and in the morning we will see what we can do for you. What is your name?" "George Burton, sir." "Where do you belong?" The boy, in a confused and hesitating manner,- replied by giving the name of n country place sonic 40 miles away. The experienced officer suspected that he was not tellfng the truth, but, keeping keep-ing this" opinion to himself, remarked: "You don't look as if you had eaten any supper, Oeorgo." x "I haven't," said George, with a. wistful wist-ful sigh; "nor any dinner, either." "Well, I'll see If T can't find you'some- thing to eat," said tiie lieutenant, a I kindly man, with boys of his own. fl He was successful in "finding" a sub- , Btnutinl lunch, which the hungry young fl wanderer devoured with avidity. When I he had satisfied his appetite, the lieu- tenant said to 1dm: fl "You hnd better go to bed now, but I first, if you have any little notions in fl your pockets, give them to me for safe- keeping." , George complied with this request by fl pulling out of his various pockets an fl array of "little notions" which was cer-fl cer-fl tainly enough to impress the inspector fl with awe. Thero were one of tho old-fl old-fl fashioned "pepper-box" revolvers of fl m heavy caliber, a piece of wux candle, fl a gimlet, a pocketknife with four I blades, a pair of scisbom, a leather strap, fl t three or four short lead pencils, a ball fl of putty, a memorandum book, a novel I entitled "Cannoneer Bob; or, tho IM-I IM-I rato'a Last Shot," and another called fl ''Lost in tho Sewers; or, tho Wharf Rat's I m&24. 9 Revenge," with thrilling illumrations. Tho liuutenant gazed at this collection collec-tion with a look of mild amazement, which gradually subsided, as lu recalled re-called some previous discoveries with regard to tho capacity of boys' poekota He I.ad seen just such an ns3ortmC'it c-f r.j-'tiolcs produced inoro than dice from hc 'pockets of hia younjs.t.'ra at fctnuc. ' Tho 'cy was consigned to r ccl! am' left t" hi i own rellcctio:is, v...lch were cert.t! .ly porrotvful, and perhaps were poS'o:.t, for ho sighed, na he lay tic wn to hia bncly rest, and turned his face Upon his arm with something like a 1 sob. 1 if ho cried, n3 any v.'cary, Lonieaick boy r.ilght do In itueh a slt't.Ui'.j, there waH no one to behold hifl tea to, r fcoiT at such weakness in r. hero who waa bent on "going west," and after awhile he put down his arm mid composed himself him-self to sleep. Perhaps, in dreams, ho saw himself achieving superhuman deeds of courage and endurance on tho warpath, armed with his death-dealing "pepper-box" and Uaming candle; anon, in dire captivity, cap-tivity, cutting himself loo3c from hir. bonds with hia keen-edged scissors, boring bor-ing a holo in a Yale lock with his mighty gimlet, or raising himself out of some bottomless pit by the aid of his ingenious in-genious strap. Perhaps his drearaa wero of this kind; perhaps they were of home. In the meantime the lieutenant was making an examination of tho boy's property, hoping to find some clew to his history more reliable than his own statements. Ho shook his head as ho looked at the cheap dog-cared novels, murmuring: "That's what alls the boy been reading read-ing Btories of this sort till he has got his head full of nonsense, and wants to go out wost and kill Indians." Pushing tho novels nsidc, lie took up the little memorandum book and turned over the leaves, which were scribbled here and thero with names and dates and bits of rhyme, written iu n neat, schoolboy's hand. On the first page ho found the boy's name and place of residence not the place ho had named, but a village much nearer the city. "George II. Burton, "East Greenwich." "Ah!" said the lieutenant, smiling. "So that's where he comes from. Well, ray bloodthirsty little rover, I hone we Bhall have a surpriso for you in tho morning." ( And, in preparation for this event, he sent a telegram to East Greenwich and a telephone mess'age to the chief of police. In the morning, after George had been provided with a good breakfast, he was talking with the lieutenant and the ofilccr who had brought him in, trying to evade their questions and wondering whnt they meant to do with him, when he was astonished to hear an excited voice, exclaiming: "Where is he? Oh, plenuc bring him here, Jdr, Policeman I" And the next moment the chief of police entered, ushering in a stout old lady and n thin lady, -who was not old, although she was not young. They both hnd sweet, home-like faces, that could only go with kind and loving lienrts, and they both flew at George the moment they caught sight of him and began embracing him with as much delight de-light ns if ho had been lost for ten years instead of two days. "Why, grandma! Why, Aunt Polly ! " gasped tho boy, as soon as they gave him a chance to spenk. "How in the world did you come hero? Who told you where I was?" "The policemen telegraphted to uo and we started right off as soon ns wc heard that you was found. We hadn't slept a wink all night not n soul iu the house; and your grandpa's gone to Boston Bos-ton to look for you," said the old lady with tearfl in her eyes. "Oh, Georgic! Gcorgiel How could you run away?" "How could you do it, George?" echoed Aunt Polly, reproachfully. And -George, whose lonely night in the cell had given him a good opportunity oppor-tunity for reflection, evidently wondered won-dered himself how he could have done it. He faltered, repentantly: "I don't know, Aunt Polly. I I guess I didn't think. If you'll take me home nnd not let grnndpn whale me, I'll never do it again." Whether his grandfather "whaled" him or not, tho reporter cannot tell, though he certainly deserved it; hut, as lie wns taken home, and has not tinco been found roaming tho streets at night, it may bo inferred that he kept ids promise. Golden Days. |