Arizona republican., 1911-07-28

ulltlnS rom 1n front or lne QOOT. It was not an artistic flight by any means, for it involved a sudden spring up pair of stone steps, and a quick leap over the iron railing in front. But as an exhibition of agility it took high rank.
 "H'm!" unused Marston, as he drank his black coffee and toyed with some extra loud cheese AS a getaway artist Jules can have my vote any old time. He sure can"
 Presently Marie arranged her hat, gave a coquettish twist to her jacket and went out the door. Marston did not see her go, for at the moment he was full of a dozen ideas for getting work. His days of dreaming were over; he was going to be practical. The proof of which was that as he put on his hat he arranged to return to the 'NaisOn PerdreauX" next day to compose a reply to the lawyers let ter; in return for which he was to re- ceive another free dinner.
 The quiet side-street was flushed with soft spring sunshine as he emerged from the cave-like dimness of the old-fashioned basement. And, ltdnlHE dSdlllSI lllt HUH picture of woe, was Marie.
 Marston had been so occupied with plans for improving the condition of a member of the dry-goods trade that he had almost forgotten Marie. Now 1t came to him with a start that, despite himself, he was back in the region of poetry and romance.
 He gave a sharp glance at the little heap of ashes on the sidewalk, left from the cremation of John Keats; and, on the instant. there came back to him the scene of the morning, the scowling fioOr-walker, the ring of un- friendly faces, his lonely walk up the avenue. He shool; his fist at the little pile of ashes.
 Never again." he muttered hoarsely.
 She caught him by the arm. Her moist dark eyes. full of tears. turned up to his, as she poured forth a tor rent of French.
 Marston. whose ignorance of French was abysmal, nodded wisely. Better get that talk out of your system, little girl" he advised.
 Marie. evidently under the impress sion that he was yielding to her per suasive powers, redoubled her elo- quence, Eesticulating furiously, and pointing down the street.
 If was afflicted with language like that, I'd take the cure" Marston as- sured her.
 Her face lit up with joy; she caught him by the arm and began to drag him down the street.
 But Marston stubbornly shook his head "I ain't old Sleuth, and I ain't a hero" he said firmly. And I'm going chasing job and not a French barber"
 The girl looked wistfully up in his face, but Marston, under the influence of the little green bird, was obdurate. Then she opened her moUth-a pretty little mouth, with cherry-red lips, as Marston observed-and turning to the "Maison Perdreaux' made a gesture of eating.
 "Dinneri" said Marston aloud. He held up one finger and the girl smiled assent.
 Marston consulted the message of the little green bird. Be practical and you will succeed" He shook his head sternly and held up three fingers.
 Marie hesitated a moment; then she nodded her agreement. She held up three slender fingers and motioned to- wards the "Maison Perdreaux." Mars ton nodded once more and the strange bargain was concluded.
 They went slowly down the street towards Seventh Avenue, Marston eminently satisfied with the luck the little green bird had brought him. His satisfaction, indeed, increased until the French barber-sEop was reached; and there, at sight of the ercing Jules's tall figure and decidedly bony hands, it very abruptly dwindled away to nothing and disappeared.
 Jules was surveying himself in a mirror. his face pale and sulky. To Marston's nasty glance his gray-clad figure seemed at least seven feet tall, and his shoulders of formidable breadth. He turned at their entrance and scowled at Marie.
 We've come for that twenty" an- nounced Marston with an offhand air which he had copied from the floor walker.
 Jules stood silently surveying them. his pallid face beginning to be slowly overspread by a faint flush. Then, ut tering some words in French, he caught Marie sharply by the arm. with a grip so painful that the girl began to scream. At the moment, with the courage of a matinee idol, Marston flung himself forward.
 When he came to few minutes later he was sitting in a red-plush chair, and Marie was bathing his fore head with bay rum, while little man in a white apron was holding a towel to his bleeding nose.
 Did get him?" he asked anxiously.
 Did the canary get the cat?" re- torted the man of the apron. Marie yelled so he stopped pounding you and ran"
 Marston touched his nose, which seemed to have enlarged while he slept "A man often gets stung by a chance blow" he said alrily. q.
 The Frenchman in the apron, who had learned English on the avenue. grinned pleasantly. "As fighter you ain't no white mans hope" he said critically; nor a white woman's either" he added with another grin.
 Marston moved his head slowly side wise and found that 1t was intact; he