The Detroit times. [volume] (Detroit, Mich.) 1903-1920, 1912-10-30

ne Poet Or the Poodle.
The day was unusually hot for late
August In Maine, The grass was
! brown and dry, the leaves hung limp
| ly on. the trees and the dust in the
roads was ankle deep. No breeze
came from the sea, while the sails OF
the pleasure boats dropped in warm
! detection. Every one had sought
shelter from the sun, and wharfs,
streets and houses OF the small sea
port town appeared deserted.
Bartlett had taken himself OF TO
the dim seclusion OF the house. where
he lounged with windows opened,
blinds drawn and a small table, ~
cooling beverages near at hand. The
heat, the drowsy, shrill hum OF the
crickets and the muffled. monotonous
roar OF the sea had soothing infiu-
ence and Bartlett let his book fall
from his hands and slept, stretched
at ease In the steamer chair. door
gently opening and softly shutting
aroused him. He sat up, yawned ana
grunted.
Hello" drawled q voice. slow. in
different, familiar
Bartlett recalled a week in June.
when. with rare credulity. he had kid
naped stranger and had discov-
cred that he had been the one in truth
TO be kidnapped. He turned his head
and saw the Watermelon crossing the
room. He knew that 1t was the boy
by the size OF the shoulders and the
grace OF the long limbs, but the thin,
good-natured face was covered with
a months growth OF light hair, the
brown suit with the pale green and
red stripe was suit no longer. mere
" a bundle OF rags. The shirt was
opened at the throat, without a tie
or button, while the Panama was
shapeless and colorless. but worn
with the familiar jaunty ease,
'"Ah," said Bartlett. "Jeroboam
Martin"
He smiled as one who meets an old
and congenial friend. for Jeroboam
Martin had shown a fne capability
for getting out OF q tight place and
carrying through . desired project
with success and nerve, and Bartlett
had grown TO like the Lad.
Am I bum enough asked the Wa
termelon, with no answering smile.
When one has come to test love, life
is too grim for smiles.
you are fairly dirty and shabby
agreed Bartlett. You look thin"
II have had hard luck" said the
Watermelon. "How's BillyT"
Pretty well. thanks"
Expecting me-" asked the Water
melon. taking of his hat and gently
patting his back hair as he had a
way OF doing
Bartlett nodded Yes, but not e1-
actly as you are.
Its tough on the little girl" NUT
tered the Watermelon. he sank into
chair and stretched out his long
legs with the weatherstained trous-
ers and dirty, broken shoes. oh,
mama. I'm tired. Been hoofing II
| since sun-up yesterday with hardly a
stop, wanted to see the kid So"
We'll. so and get drunk" returned
Bartlett. And then you can see her.
The Watermelon frowned. See
here, | don't drink, necessarily. I'm
not a brand To be plucked from the
burning. a sheep strayed from the
fold. The whisky bottle wasn't my
undoing and didn't make me take 10
the highway. I'm not fallen. | was
always down, guess. hate work
/ hate worry and trouble. Shaving like
a Swede all day for just enough
money 10 be an everlasting cheap
guy. like leisure and time TO de-
velop my own soul" He waved his
hand in airy imitation OF James.
That's all right" said Bartlett.
But get drunk. II she can stand YOU
soused, she can stand you sober. She
has got TO know what she's getting.
III she decides 10 take you after all.
The Watermelons tired face grew
bit whittier under the tan and beard!
lie shrugged hopelessly and rose. AL