The Arkansaw traveler., 1885-04-04
For THE AgEANsAw TRAVELLER.
 ANOTHER TRAMP STORY.
BY H. S. KELLER.

| BY H. S. KELLER.
 Say, boss, dyer want an item fur yer paper !" inquired wheezy voice. The distiller of the luminous aroma followed his voice in and took seat. The society editor smoothed the bag out of his trousers at the knees, chewed tooth pick and pensively gazed upon the dilap- dated morsel of storm-tossed anatomy wondering, no doubt, if the end of the harvest would find him in a like position. The general handy editor smiled pleas antiy upon the stranger and pushed the paste-pot toward him. He gazed upon it sorrowfully, tossed a deprecatory gesture toward the editors staunchest friend and, taking an entire pie from his bosom, proceeded to crimp and flute its rim with gusto. The editors looked on with envy. A tramp eat pie And pie is among the prescribed category of liter ary nutrition.
 "You fellers like pie ?" mumbled the wealthy tramp. A circle of bald heads bowed.
 "You want pie2' The circle of bald. heads again bowed.
 "Go west an make spuds ter buy pie then. Them's my sentiments. Rassel round, make lustlin' 'mong ther' dusty archives of yer poor brains an buy pie None but the wealthy can eat pie"
 "And-and, you're wealthy" broke in faint voice from the fire editors desk, Strange as it may seem, he was the chill jest scribe on the press. Nature was quite coy of her gifts when she passed them around. The fire editor could work up an article until the entire page assumed western sky tinted with sum- set and the poor scribe would shiver and chatter with ague. He often wished that he could exchange. Write with cool brain and hot fingers. Alas he couldn't, He is sour and morose. The climax of his trouble was reached when he drop- ped his weekday teeth in the presence of his Sunday girl. He shook she gave him colder shake he is now blooded iceberg. He is getting quite wicked, and hopes it will be warmer over there. He skates twice day at the roller rink with pretty woman. As she is married the chances are that he zViY get over there where it is hot in a short time.
 "Am l wealthy? We'll should rise to-"
 "My friend" interrupted the poesical editor, we have large vat in the eel lar full of blue vitriol and chloride of lime. We have some pretty specimens of skeletons. They have gone through the vat. You sit upon trap; my finger presses upon this electric button if you 6Aish that remark about arising to stut- ter, you will be immediately precipitated through illimitable space into the vat" The look of despair which had settled upon the editors faces vanished as the pale-faced poet. ical editor uttered the foregoing. The stranger dropped his pie and leaped to the window sill. He watched the sparrows outside vainly hunting for crumbs under the window. (rhere are no crumbs under the windows of the ed- itorial sanctum.) When he looked for his pie-it had gone where Cleveland's letter on civil service reform went when it reached the New York SHs office, viz the lean, gaunt and starving office cat had grabbed the pie. You fellers make 1 much pushin' the quill9" finally asked | the stranger. The pool chip-good for one lager or sandwich-in the religious editors pocket felt very hot. He smiled | a sickly sort of smile as he tossed the CAyistias Weekly to the funny man. l The latter glanced over the humorous column, and was revived by a burnt | paste-brush held under his nostrils. The sporting sd;.c- sucked the remains of his l Xmas goose-a quill-and began to look l up the pedigree of Maud S. Bonner. The poetical editor nibbled the corners of | suspicious looking MS. and sighed. | The MS. had gone the rounds.
 "Reckon you fellers hain't hefty with 1 spuds. Come, now, I'll draw matches to l see who settles for the pop" Not voice asse=.>a sc the yn;ncns idea Re.chey five dollars thar hain't man in this den | can scare up saw-buck." The poor scribes were indignant. Then they were happy again when the einder sifter