Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1906-10-28

wrong with those Trenches" she declared.
Are you done?"
Before he could reply she had drawn a
large straw from the broom and stuck 1t
several inches into his side.
Don't do that!' he cried, Indignantly, as
she drew out the bit of broom again.
u was only tryin' YOU she remarked.
you're done to turn and ought to make
good eating while you're fresh
John gazed at her in horror.
Good eating!' he cried, woman, would
you murder me?"
Il can't say it would be exactly murder
| she replied, looking at him hungrily.
ITO destroy life is murder!' he said
| sternly
But to destroy gingerbread isn't" she
rejoined. And I can't see that it's can
| nibaltsm to eat a man If he happens to be
| cake, and fresh baked. And that frosting
looks good. Come inside while I get a
knife
She opened the gate and tried to grab
John Dough by an arm But he gave a
sudden backward leap, and then sped down
the street at a furious run, looking neither
to right nor left in his eager flight.
Luckily, he was not in the center of the
town, but near the outskirts, and the
houses were few and scattered.
By and by he saw a deserted barn near
the roadside. The door was half-open and
sagged on its hinges, so 1t could not be
closed.
John darted into the barn and hid behind
some hay in the far side. He was thor
avoid mingling with the people OF the town
if he would escape instant destruction.
A knife! A knife! The word kept ring
ing in his ears and filled him with horror.
A knife could slice him into pieces easily.
He imagined himself sliced and lying on a
plate ready for hungry folks to eat, and
the picture made him groan aloud.
All through the day he kept securely hid
den behind the hay. Toward evening he de-
cided to revisit the bakery. 1t was a diff
cult task, for he had passed through many
streets and lanes without noticing where
he was going, and 1t grew darker every
ginning to despair, he saw dim light in
window and read over the door the sign:
Jules Grogrande, Baker
He opened the door so softly that the lit
tie bell scarcely tinkled. But no one would
have heard 1t had 1t rung loudly, for there
was a confused murmer of fierce voices
coming from the little room madame usu-
ally occupied.
John Dough skipped behind the counter,
where he could see into the room without
being himself.
Around the little table stood the Arab.
M. Jules and madame. and they were all
staring angrily into each others faces.
But the flask" cried Ali Dubh. Where
Is my precious f1ask?'
ut is here said madame, reaching be-
hind the mirror and drawing forth some
thing that glittered in the lamplight. -:
But this is the silver fask-the cure for
rheumatism" exclaimed the Arab. Where
is my GOloen FlaSk-cOntalnlng the price,
less Elixir Of Life?"
II must have made a mistake" said
madame. honestly, for my eyes are so
queer that I cannot tell gold from silver.
Anyway. the contents Of the other flask I
emptied into bowl of water and rubbed
my limbs with It,"
The Arab shouted despairing cry in his
native tongue and then glared wildly at the
woman. s--a-a~
WAS 1t the brown bowl. Leontine?'
asked M. Jules. trembling with excitement.
Yes" she answered.
where is It? Where is it?" demanded
the Arab, in a hoarse voice. The precious
liquor may yet be saved
TOO late, monsieur said the baker,
shaking his head sadly. Il used the con-
tents of the bowl to mix the dough for my
gingerbread man..
"A gingerbread man! What do you
mean" asked Ali Dubh.
Il baked a man out of gingerbread this
morning. said M. Jules, land to my
horror he came alive and spoke to me and