The Minneapolis journal. [volume] (Minneapolis, Minn.) 1888-1939, 1902-02-01

tangled mass Of tiger stripes and struggling
man. Down to the floor they went with
| thunderous crash. There, close locked amid
a tornado OF flying sawdust, they whirled and
thrashed and wrestled, while the air rang hid
eously with mad roarings, snarlings, howl
ings, shriekings and ceilings.
FOR one frozen second the quartet in the
game of hold-up stood like statues. Then a
pistol shot perforated a far corner of the
ceiling, there was a strangled below of ter
ror, and dark figure dove headforemost
through the window with a mighty crash Of
glass.
wait fer me. Mike!" another voice i'm
| plored.
There was a second rush, and the glass of
another window shattered. Across adjacent
! fields two gashed faces drpped blood at such
intervals as may cover in mighty leaps
The hold-uo was over.
| But what did McArdelI care? Wedged half
way down his dumb waiter. he alternately
cursed his girth and the impulse that had led
! him to that false hope of escape and prayed
forgiveness for his profanity with the fervor
| of man who momentarily expects a tiger to
reach down and bite his head off, Above the
din of battle he could hear Tim, his assistant
recitng in a series of frenzied bowls cata-
| lOgue Of horrors to freeze the blood. Tins
voice seemed to come from uo stairs. but
McArdell couldn't be sure because of the noise
| of the fight. Would the unequal conflict never
end? 1t seemed impossible that human
! strength could SO long hold out. And now
! the clamor began to mitigate, then died away
until nothing could be heard but hoarse
painting
Hes getting his wind before he eats, poor
Squab!'' thought the imprisoned saloon
keeper. Then he'll come after me!'' a fore
cast followed by so paralyzing an excess of
terror that he lost consciousness for mo-
| ment The voice of Tim brought him back
"Mr. McArdell! o, Mr.. McArdel! Where
are your"
.In the dumb-waiter shaft"
Come up. He's dead"
"Of course he's dead. Did you think the
tiger, pettin' him, you fool?"
"Of course nothin'. It's the tiger that's
dead
Sheer amaze at the prowess Of Squad
ONeil choked McArdell for the moment.
Then he called:
Help out of this. I'm stuck EASTERN
a prize onion in goats gullet. Get me out,
1 say!'' r-....
BY dint Of much hauling and struggling
McArdell emerged. His first glance fell upon
the corpse of Salamander, stretched on the
floor. On it sat SQUAD ONeill He was
breathing very hard All about was scat
tered the money dropped by the robbers in
their haste and Tim was doing the Jig of
jubilaton among it. McArdell staggered over
and laid hand on the striped body of the
tiger. .r- ..--
.:Squab O'Neill," said he, "speak truth to
a man that's feared for his reason. Is that
Salanander?"
.'It sure ISL said SQUAD.
us he dead?" ....
.Deader'n the ant Noah's elephant stepped
on $3.50 . ... 'a. ...
And you're alive?'
AN dry" D.
"McArdel wabbled over to the bar and
took the biggest drink OF whisky he had
swallowed in ten years. 49,. .. .-,..-.
Hold hard,". said SQUAD, resentfully. II
need that worsen you wo."
''Need nothing" said McArdell-"man that
can lick tiger hand to hand. How'd you
ever do it?' p,
well, he didn't fight back much"
Didn't fight back?"
NO explained SQUAD. He couldn't. You
see, he's stuffed!' -'*.'. D." "'''. e.
Stuffed" yelled McArdell. Glow could
he roar If he was stuffed?''
II did the roarin'," explained the con-
vivial Aleck, thrusting his head in at the
door. ''It's t'irsty work. but for a long drink
could roar s'more."
AN 1 put in the snarlin' an growlin',"
added SQUAD. II didn't go fer to fool you
at first, Mac" he added earnestly. II told
you was sent to get Salamander, though
didn't tell that. he died last week and has
been at the taxidermer's ever since. So 1
Guile 10 SuOW SOu, au AleCh cOluo along TO
help, an when we run into the holdup we
done our little act, Salamandcr an me, an"
he concluded judicialy. Il think it was
sensation. Do we get a drink. the three OF
us?'' 80
Very late that night they left a disreputable
Salamander on the head trainers doorstep
His fur was flecked with sawdust and exuded
an unnistakabie flavor Of revelry Cooked
over one eye a wreath made of green's
and the gold foil from champagne bottles In
his mouth was flask of brandy. Each fore
paw clasped whisky bottle, each hind paw
magnum of champagne. The end Of his
tail Haunted a corkscrew. On his massive
forehead was placard for all to read: "Treat
him kind, for he done his best"
It was signed with four names that OF
SQUAD O'Neil conspicuous among them. Next
day Squad lost his job, but he doesn't care. |
McArdell is going TO set him up for him !
self as tiger trainer one Of these days.
teligent make such woful assaults upon our |