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Show MY FAVORITE STORIES By IRVIN S. COBB iCopyriht.) The Poor Aim of Mr. Zeno When the circus reached the small Vermont town the proprietor feared for awhile that his afternoon performance perform-ance might lack its chief feature. The star of the aggregation was Zeno, the Mexican knife thrower, answering In private life to the name of Hennessy. Twice a day Zeno, dressed In gaudy trappings, would enter the arena accompanied ac-companied by his wife, a young, plump and pretty woman In pink tights, and followed by a roustabout bearing a basketfull of long bowie-knives and shining battleaxes. While the band played an appropriate selection of shivery music the young woman would flatten herself against a background of blue planking which had been erected in the middle of the ring. There she would pose motionless, her arms outstretched out-stretched and her feet close together. Then Zeno, stationing himself 40 feet from her, would fling his knives and axes at her, missing her each time by the narrowest of margins. Presently her form would be completely outlined by the deadly steel, but such was Ze-no's Ze-no's marvelous skill that she took no hurt from the sharp blades which pinned her fast. But on this day Mrs. Zeno had fallen ill and, although the circus owner offered of-fered a reward for some one who would take her place, he could find no volunteers among the members of his staff. In this emergency the invalid's mother who by the same token was Zeno's mother-in-law and who traveled trav-eled with the show in the capacity of wardrobe mistress, stepped forward and agreed to serve as an understudy in order that the performance might not be marred. The hour came. Forth came Zeno, wearing his professional scowl, slightly slight-ly enhanced. His mother-in-law, skinny skin-ny and homely, with her hair knotted In a knob on her head and her daughter's daugh-ter's fleshings hanging In loose folds upon her bony figure, followed him closely. She plastered herself flat against the wooden background. Zeno gave her a look seemingly fraught with undying hate. He took up his longest, sharpest bowie-knife. He tested Its needle-like point upon his thumb. He poised it, aimed it, flung It. Like a Javelin it hurtled on Its hissing flight through the air. Striking Strik-ing tip first a scant quarter of an inch from the lobe of the mother-in-law's left ear, It buried' itself deep In the tough oaken planking and stood there, the hilt quivering. The pause which ensued was broken by the astonished voice of a lank native na-tive sitting on the lowermost tier of blue seats industriously milking his whiskers : "Wall, by Heck he missed her !" |