The Western outlook. [volume] (San Francisco, Cal.) 1894-1928, 1915-06-12

OIl1N1<As 0A ~ MIA ~ IN
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house. It's just been painted white.
and it's spelling it. OF course, you
can't help that You're hardly able
to afford anthracite at ten dollars q
ton, eh?'
Maybe not" responded Martin, Sc
riously, but I can be just, even II it
costs me something. I never thought
Of 1t before"
When he came to look at the side of
the Stevenson house. Martin saw that
the SCOT had, indeed, marred and de-
faced it. Especially up under the
caves, the clapboards were grimed
with feathers of SCOT Acting on
generous impulse. he hailed his neigh
Dor, who just happened to be coming
into the house.
honest fellow, "Tve just found out
that my soft coal is hurting your
property. I shall use coke through
the rest Of the winter, and first holt
day I'll get ladder and give the
side of the house a good scrubbing."
"Why-thank you'll must say
you're thoughtful and kind-yes,
thank YOU" and Stevenson acted as
though this unusual courtesy of a
stranger fairly overcame him.
Before the opportunity to remedy
things came about, however, some
startling events TRANSFERRED One morn
ing Martin came out into the yard to
find ladder taken from his shed
standing against the side of his neigh
boris house. The window Of an up
per room was open. Mr.. Stevenson
was under great strain of excitement.
He declared that the house had been
burglarized.
''Was anything taken?" asked Mr..
Martin.
why, not much" explained his
neighbor In bewildered sort of a
way "The room the burglar got into
Is the one my poor dead son occupied.
We have left it just as it was when
he went away. Whoever broke into
the, house opened a drawer where
Warren kept a few trifiing trinkets.
A watch, a revolver and some gold
cuff links are missing, but nothing
else was disturbed"
"That is singular" observed Martin
thoughtfully, and he went up the lad
der a step or two. "Why, say, Mr..
Stevenson" he called down to his
neighbor, here is something queer"
What is that?' was asked.
'Tn getting into the window the
burglar has left some hand marks
around it's frame"
"Why, yes-I can see 1t from here
replied the owner of the despoiled
home.
Right among that troublesome
black SCOT of mine" continued Martin,
rather apologetically. "And sav-why,
hello! Whoever the fellow was he's
left a clue"
What do you mean?"
"Hand prints show that he had three
short fingers on one hand-why, sir!
What is the matter?"
Quickly the speaker descended the
ladder. With sharp cry of enlight-
eminent, Mr.. Stevenson had started
back.
Three short fingers!" he gasped
out hoarsely. "Then-it must have
been Warren Oh, he is not dead, but
alive! Mother! mother!" he shouted,
rushing into the house and seeking his
wife, and leaving the stupefied Martin
standing staring after him, unable to
comprehend the meaning of his
strange actions.
What the father surmised turned
out correct, a little later. His son
was indeed alive. He had stolen back
home, poor, homeless, ILL., 1t would
be no robbery to take his own.
Shamed at his mistaken past, he had
hurried away, after taking the price
of a few needed meals, but his father,
with the aid of the police, soon locat-
ed him.
1t was a joyful moment when the
recovered son was told that the dread
ed hand of the law had been removed.
"All because of that blessed SCOT or
yours-all honor to soft COAL" the de-
lighted Stevenson had told his neigh
Dor.
And a true neighbor he made OF
him. and naturally Warren Stevenson
met Winnie. Closer and closer grew
the ties of true neighborliness, and
of love, and then the natural sequence
Of happy wedding.