Alpena weekly argus. [volume] (Alpena, Mich.) 1871-1893, 1886-05-19
Bill Nye's Burglar.


last loiterer had returned home, and
the lights in the palace of the pork
packer had been extinguished.
No sound was heard save the low
tremulous swash of the sleet outside
or the death rattle in the throat OF
the bath-tub. Then all was still as
the bosom of a fried chicken when the
spirit has departed.
The swallow-tail coat hung limp
and weary in the wardrobe, and the
gross receipts of the evening were un-
der my pillow. / needed sleep, for ]
was worn out with travel and anxiety,
but the fear of being robbed kept me
from repose. / know how desperate
a man becomes when he yearns for
another's gold. / know how cupidity
drives q wicked man to mangle his
victim that he might win precarious
prosperity, and how he will often make
a short cut to wealth by means OF
murder, when, if he would enter poll
tics, he might accomplish his purpose
as surely and much more safely.
Amen, however, tired nature sue
cumbed. l know / had succumbed,
for the bell-boy afterwards testified
that he had heard me do so.
do not know what it was that
caused me to wake. Some slight sound
or other no doubt broke my slumber,
and | opened my eyes wildly. The
room was in semi-darkness.
A slight movement in the corner,
and the low, regular breathing of a
human being l was now wide awake.
Possibly l could have opened my
eyes wider, but not without spilling
them out of their sockets.
Regularly came that soft, low
breathing. Each time it seemed like
a sigh Of relief, but it did not relieve
me. Evidently it was not done for
that purpose. 1t sounded like sigh
of blessed relief, such as woman
might heave after returning home
from church and transferred herself
from the embrace of her new Russia
iron black silk dress into friendly
wrapper.
Regularly, like the rise and fall of
a wave OH the summer sea, it rose and
fell, while my pale lambrequin of hair
rose and fell ftfully with it.
l know that people who read this
will laugh at it, but there was moth
ing to laugh at. At first 1 feared the
sigh might be that of woman who
had entered the room through tran
som in order to see me, as l lay wrap
ped in slumber, and then carrying the
picture away to gladden. her whole
life.
But no; that was hardly possible.
1t was cupidity that had driven some
cruel villain to enter my apartments,
and crouch in the gloom until the
proper moment had come in which to
spring upon me, throttle me, crowd
hotel pillow into each lung, and, while
/ did the Desdemona act, rob me of
my hard earned wealth.
Regularly still rose the soft breath
ing, as though the robber might be
trying to suppress it. l reached gent
ly under the pillow, and securing the
money I put it in the pocket of my
robe de mutt. Then with great care I
pulled out copy of Smith & Wes-
sons "How to Ventilate the Human
Form" l said to myself that / would
sell my life as dearly as possible, SO
that whoever bought it would always
regret the trade.
Then opened the volume at the
first chapter, and addressed a 3S-cali-
bre remark in the direction Of the
breath in the corner.
When the echoes had died away,
sigh of relief welled up from the dark
corner. Also another sigh of relief
later on.
then decided to light the gas and
fight it out. You have no doubt seen
man light the gas on the leg of his
trousers. Perhaps you have also seen
an absent-minded man undertake to
do so, forgetting that his pantaloons
were hanging on the chair at the other
end of the room.
People who had heard my lecture
came rushing in, hoping to find that l
had suicided, but they found that in
stead of humoring the public that way
| had shot the valve off the steam
radiator.
1t is humiliating to write the fore
going myself, but would rather do
so than have the affair garbled by
careless hands.-Star.
Getting a Supply of Ammunition.