The Prescott daily news., 1913-10-02
HOW MEALY GOT EVEN
By ARTHUR PRESTON.

II so no one around the shop had ever heard it, or would have remem- bered it if they had He was a freck. led faced youth with watery blue eyes and tangled mass of reddish yellow hair. What his age may have been is only conjecture, but seated on the tallest office stool, supplemented by discarded copy of Webster's Un- abridged, he could, by dint of much stretching, just reach the upper case "A"
 It was election morning and a red hot campaign of municipal reform was on. The gang" realizing that they were up against 1t in earnest. had fig ured out the wards they needed and were confining their operations to them. Sparks, the owner, and Mealy were alone in the office, all the print CTS having been let off for the day, when the door opened and in walked Grogan.
 "Hullo, Jim," he said.
 Morning, Grogan; how are things coming?"
 Its going to be hot one, we have got to keep moving. Say, have you any old tickets on hand? Any kind will do."
 I'll see.' said Sparks. He arose and went to the rear of the shop where, from under a case he extract ed dust covered package.
 Here's lot of tickets that were or dered for nigger raffle and never called for. How will they do?"
 Just the thing. How many are there?"
 A thousand" answerd Sparks.
 Good returned Grogan; that will be just about what we need.'
 What are you going to do with them?" queried Sparks.
 We'll answered Grogan, you know that they have closed up every saloon tighter than a drum today, but we'll fool em. We have got lot of kegs down in Murphy's barn, and each one of these tickets will entitle the bearer to a nip, and no questions ask ed. We will put them around where they will do the most good. Clever scheme, eh?"
 The two men chuckled together a few moments in self-congratulation.
 Well, 1 must run along" said Gro gan. You'll be out after awhile?"
 Sure"
 Sparks, after working awhile, took down his coat and hat. If anyone calls. Mealy,' he said, T won't be in again before dinner. You can look after the shop, there won't be any thing doing
 Left alone, Mealy stolidly continued throwing in the type on which he was working, but rage burned within him. Why should he alone, of all the shop force, be compelled to stay cooped up at work when there was fun to be had outside? He thought of his compan- ions, probably at this moment playing "knuckle down" for keeps or shooting craps for pennies. It was tough luck, and he turned his head and spat Vi ciously from between his teeth. AS he did so his glance rested on a small red pasteboard. He gazed at it with unfriendly eye for some time, when, suddenly, his countenance frightened and he slid from the stool, pying a stickful of type and tumbling the die tonary to the floor as he went.
 He picked up the bit of pasteboard and carried it over to the stock rack from which, after a careful compari- son, he drew several sheets. These he cut into small squares and, after a busy half hour at the case and on the makeup slab, set the press go- ing.
 At 12, with snug package under his arm, Mealy left the shop and, aft CT bolting a huge piece of pie and gulping down a mug of coffee at nearby lunch counter, betook himself down a familiar alley to a secluded corner where the street gamins were wont to spend the noon hour. Call ing aside two of his special cronles, there ensued an animated conversa- tion, following which the package was transferred to one of the twain, who promptly departed Mealy returned to the shop, mounted his stool and worked industriously, whistling cheer fly the while.
 About three o'clock Sparks came in