The Telegraph-courier. [volume] (Kenosha, Wis.) 1888-1946, 1891-04-30

81 may be in the park tomorrow, if there
BILE Arch down and back again; that is my
little excursion But of course 1 shall see
you again" She stepped into the omnibus
and was swallowed up by the fog.
''Well-I-am-damn !" said Dick, and
returned to the chambers.
Torpenhow and the Nilghai found him sit
ting on the steps to the studio door, repeat
ing the phrase with awful gravity.
you'll be more damned when I've done
with you, said the Nilghai, upheaving his
bulk from behind Torpenhow's shoulder
and waving sheaf of half-dry manuscript
''Dick, it is of common report that you are
suffering from swelled head"
'Halloo, Nilghai. Back again? How are
the Balkans and all the little Balkans? One
side of your face is out of drawing, as usual. "
''Never mind that [ am commissioned to
smite you in print. Torpenhow refuses
from false delicacy I've been overhauling
the pot-boilers in your studio. They are
simply disgraceful"
''Oho that's it, is it? If you think you
can slate me, you're wrong. You can only
describe and you need as much room to
turn in, on paper, as a P & o. cargo-boat
But continue and be swift. I'm going to
bed"
HIN! HIM! him! The first part only
deals with your pictures. Here's the per-
grafton; For work done without conviction,
for power wasted on trivialities, for labor ex-
pended with levity for the deliberate pur-
pose of winning the easy applause of fash
ion-driven public"
''That's His Last Shot, second edition.
Go on"
'''Public. There remains but one end-the
oblivion that is preceded by liberation and
cenotaphed with contempt. From that fate
Mr.. Heldar has yet to prove himself out of
danger"
wow W-WOW-WoW-W OW! said
Dick, profanely. Its a clumsy ending
and vile journalese, but it's quite true. And
yet, "-he sprang to his feet and snatched at
the manuscript SCARED, deboshed,
battered old gladiator! You're sent out
when war begins to minister to the blind
brutal British public's bestial thirst for
blood. They have no arenas now, but they
must have special correspondents. You're
fat gladiator who comes up through
trap-door and talks of what he's seen. You
stand on precisely the same level as an
energetic bishop, an affable actress, de-
vastating cyclone, or-mine own sweet self.
And you presume to lecture me about my
work! Nilghai if it were worth while I'd
caricature you in four papers !"
The Nilghai WINGED. He had not thought
of this.
GAS it is should take this stuff and tear
it small-sO!" The manuscript fluttered in
slips down the dark well of the staircase
''Go home, Nilghai, !" said Dick, ego home to
your lonely little bed, and leave me in
peace. [ am about to turn in till tomorrow"
''Why, it isn't seven yetm said Torpen-
how, with amazement
sit shall be two in the morning, if I
choose, said Dick, backing to the studio
door. II go to grapple with serious crisis,
and I shan't want any dinner"
The door shut and was locked.
''What can you do with a man like that"
said the Nilghai.
Leave him alone. He's as mad as hat
ter"
At II there was kicking on the studio
door 'Is the Nilgh8i with you stll?" said
a voice from within. "Then tell him he
might have condensed the whole of his lum-
bering nonsense into an epigram: Only
the free are bond, and only the bond are
free Tell him he's an idiot, Torp, and tell
him I'm another"
''All right. Come out and have supper.
You're smoking on an empty stomach"
There was no answer
(T0 be C0ntauued)