The Somerset reporter., 1902-03-13
By Frederick White


story man." His friends respected him
for his undenable ability for getting
and, what was really quite as impor-
tant, for getting away.
The police respected him. but prin-
cipally for the latter gift.
Shorty respected himself sometimes,
but not often. After a particularly
good piece of work, when his finances
would permit, Shorty gave himself up
to a period of dull responsibility, a
proceeding rather foreign to the dis
position of second story man" For
days he would keep to his room, read
ing yoraciously every book upon which
he could lay his hands. Dickens was
his favorte author, and he loved sto-
ries of children.
Shorty was fond of children and
never disturbed them more than WAS
necessary when engaged in his bust
ness.
1t was when his finances thus per-
mitted him to rest and dip into ltera-
ture that Shorty came nearest to re-
speeding himself, but unfortunately
there always came day when he was
forced to sally forth and again become
the hunter and the hunted, usually the
central figure, though unknown, in
items of various length in the newspa-
pers.
The residence section of the city was
invariably the field of his efforts. A
days stroll would disclose the oppor-
tunity, and then night and few nee
essary implements OF trade enabled
him TO do the rest.
AS he walked briskly up the avenue
this winter afternoon nothing In Shor-
tvs appearance would attract particu-
lar attention. Plenty of young men
were doing the same thing. However,
discerning eye might have noted that
when he passed a policeman Shorty
seemed suddenly afflicted with a Sc
we're cold In his head, which necessi-
tated the use of a large handkerchief.
Between policemen Shorty's head
seemed to be in a perfectly normal
condition.
Turning up a side street, he slacken-
ed his pace somewhat, and his trained
eye searched every detail of the houses
on either side of the way. Ordinary
people might have thought them pain
fully alike, but Shorty knew other
wise. Here was a basement window
unguarded by the usual iron frame;
there a balcony gave promise of shell
ter from passing eyes while the win
dow WAS being forced.
At the corner Shorty passed church.
He had no designs on the church, but
the swell of the organ and the sound
of chldren's voices came to him
through half open window. They
were deyoting all their energies to the
last verse of the carol:
Ring the Joy bells over all the earth.
Stealing, pealing, let them tell his birth.
Angel music, let il sweetly fall,
Singing, bringing peace and JOY to ALL
The extra power thrown into the
words Joy to all" recalled to Shorty
the fact that Sunday schools frequent
ly gave celebrations for their faithful
scholars. Exactly! These children We're
having a Christmas tree at the church
dlltI lllc IlOllldg S0uHOll ut
home.
Suddenly he had a desire to see the
real thing II they would let him in.
The main door opened around the ave
nue., but the yestry door was at his
hand. He'd take n look at 1t anyway.
Shorty started forward, then stopped.
Through swinging baize door came
I, e
cracking sound and the cry Fire
Shorty was trained to act quickly
whatever the emergency. On the cor
ner was a red firebox, and II was the
work of only second to smash the
glass and turn In the alarm.
As he ran from the box the children,
pale faced and frightened, were pour
ing through the doors, and above their
heads far back In the church he could
see the gayly decorated tree blazing in
a cloud of smoke. He saw that the
youngsters were being well handled by
two young men who stood on either
side OF the doorway. Then his other
nature asserted Itself
To Shorty and his ilk a fire always
medIlS IODI. lue udDll Vi yours WIS
strong upon him. Back to the yestry
he ran and crept through the narrow
corridor and the baize door. Through
an archway he looked into the smoke
filled church There was no one in
sight. The burning tree and the smoke
screened him from view. He glanced
about hastily and his eye rested on
the aims basin, piled high with the
children's annual Offering. 1t stood on
a table near the reading desk, and
sparks from the burning tree were fall
ing upon it.
He rushed forward, snatched it and
began to cram the envelopes containing
the money into his overcoat pockets.
He must get away before the firemen
arrived on the scene. The silver plate
he would button under his overcoat.
He worked feverishly for already the
choir stalls were smoldering. He had
the money at last and, ripping open the
coat was about to conceal the plate
when voice rang through the smoke
laden air:
1.-THE children's money! Can no one