a voice.

And he did so; and after looking inside, announced:

"She's not there."

At this moment Dan came up.

"My ole mar' 's gone," he said; "an' she ain't stampeded, neither, but
was stole. Tote-rope's been untied, an' saddle an' bridle took as well."

There was uncomfortable silence, which the Scholar broke by a low,
long-drawn whistle.

"Boys," said he, "let's look inside the safe."

The three men who held the keys brought them up, the bolts were shot,
and the massive door swung back. There was every man's little sack with
his name on it; but somehow or other the sacks looked limper than of
yore. Each one was eagerly clutched and examined, and many a groan and
not a few curses went up on the still night air as it was found that
every sack save Dan's had been relieved of the more valuable part of its
contents.

So much heart-breaking labour under the burning sun thrown away for
nothing; the dreary work to commence afresh, almost from the beginning!
Had the thief been any ordinary one, the denunciation would have
been unbounded; but no one lifted his tongue very loudly against Mary
Musgrave. Yet mounted men were despatched on the three trails to bring
back the booty if possible, and the rest moved dejectedly toward their
old club. The greasy Jew did not attempt to conceal his exultation. He
served his customers with his wicked old face glowing with smiles, and
when a moment's breathing-time came he observed:

"We all 'az hour lettle surbrizes in dis wairld, an' I most confaiss I
am asdonished myself to lairn that Mess Mosgrave is a thief--" But here
a crashing among the glassware announced that Tommy Dartmoor had begun
shooting with his left hand, and Herr Gustave sputtered out from behind
the fingers he held before his face, "Ach Gott! I say nozzing more!"

GREGORIO, By Percy Hemingway

I--AT THE PARADISO

The Cafe Paradiso was full of people, for the inhabitants of Alexandria
had dined, and the opera season was over. The seats at every table were
occupied, and the fumes of smoke from a hundred cigars partly hid the
ladies of the orchestra. As the waiters pushed aside the swing-doors
of the buffet and staggered into the salon with whisky, absinthe, and
coffee, the click of billiard-balls was heard. The windows facing the
sea were wide open, for the heat was intense, and the murmur of the
waves mingled with the plaintive voices of the violins.

Seated by a table at the far end of the ha