Evening star. [volume] (Washington, D.C.) 1854-1972, 1915-07-18

end he said: You have more than sat
isfied me. If you win accept IT.
should like to give $4,000 to your ca
That's magnificent. How can I
thank you for such splendid generos-
| ity"' calculated the bishop, his face
alive with delight and gratitude.
No thanks are necessary" replied
the stranger. deprecatingly. It's for
good cause. / am only the steward.
the trustee. of the wealth with which
Providence has endowed me. II you
will walk with me to my house / will
write you check at once"
Il shall be glad to come" said the
| bishop.
In a few moments the stranger led
the way through narrow street which,
he said. was short cut to their desti-
nation. 1t was quite deserted. Half
| way down the street n sudden incl
dent, quite unexpected by the bishop.
| happened. A young woman. thickly
yelled, darted out of doorway where
! she had been lurking snatched the
reverend gentleman's grip from his
| hand and ran off with ii fast she
could run. Almost before the bishop
had recovered from his Amusement she
was out of sight.
What do you think OF that" he
asked his companion
Il don't know" gasped the latter.
almost paralyzed by the startling sud-
! denness of the occurrence. Imagine
/ her nerve in robbing you in broad day
/ light
/ Its most distressing - Terrible
cried the bishop. much disturbed. I'm
| fortunate creature, if she only knewr'
| Il don't see that there's any occa-
sion to pity her. exclaimed the other
| in evident surprise.
| Indeed there is declared the bishop
! Because the woman is a thief, that
| isn't a reason why ] should wish her to
/ rush into the jaws of death. The grip
| does not contain the results of this
i nj yiGh a
| did. It's all the fault of the chamber
| maid at the hotel. She wouldn't let me
| leave it in my room for fear 1T might
escape from its box. so / locked II in
| my grip and took 1t to church with
| What do you mean by it'?" inter-
rupted the phianthropist. impa tiently.
My pet rattlesnake"' gasped Bishop
| Brown.
| Good Lord gasped the stranger.
| We must save her, bishop. Save her,
l say And without an instant's de-
lay he ran in the direction in which the
woman had gone.
The distracted bishop, recovering
himself little. started to run after
nm. He did not overtake him, but
| managed to keep him in sight. After
Few minutes he saw him approach
| the woman and noticed that he was
| making hasty and excited explanations
to her Suddenly she dropped the grip
and the pair hurriedly disappeared
| around the nearest corner.
A week later the bishop, to his sur
| prise. met his erstwhile compa MON on
| lower Broadway. He was quite diff
ferently dressed. and no longer wore
| whiskers. Nevertheless. the keen
episcopal eye recognized him instantly.
He touched the man on the arm and the
| latter gave start. You were in time
| to save your confederate from death
| from the fangs of my pet rattlesnake,"
| said the bishop smiling genially.
| Confederate? Rattlesnake? You
| must be mistaking me for some one
| else"
NO. I'm not. 1 recognized you at
| once. l played a trick upon you a
| week ago last Sunday. l followed you
| and picked up my grip where you and
your woman friend had dropped it. 1t
| did not contain a rattlesnake."
| mo rattlesnake" blurted out the
man, startled into the ejaculation.
| No laughed the bishop, but it did
| contain all the money that the kind
people at St Marks had given me
more than $4,000 in currency"
| (THE ENID