This he handed to Chunk McGowan, telling him to administer it in a
liquid if possible, and received the hearty thanks of the backyard
Lochinvar.

The subtlety of Ikey's action becomes apparent upon recital of his
subsequent move. He sent a messenger for Mr. Riddle and disclosed the
plans of Mr. McGowan for eloping with Rosy. Mr. Riddle was a stout man,
brick-dusty of complexion and sudden in action.

"Much obliged," he said, briefly, to Ikey. "The lazy Irish loafer! My
own room's just above Rosy's. I'll just go up there myself after supper
and load the shot-gun and wait. If he comes in my back yard he'll go
away in a ambulance instead of a bridal chaise."

With Rosy held in the clutches of Morpheus for a many-hours deep
slumber, and the bloodthirsty parent waiting, armed and forewarned,
Ikey felt that his rival was close, indeed, upon discomfiture.

All night in the Blue Light Drug Store he waited at his duties for
chance news of the tragedy, but none came.

At eight o'clock in the morning the day clerk arrived and Ikey started
hurriedly for Mrs. Riddle's to learn the outcome. And, lo! as he stepped
out of the store who but Chunk McGowan sprang from a passing street car
and grasped his hand--Chunk McGowan with a victor's smile and flushed
with joy.

"Pulled it off," said Chunk with Elysium in his grin. "Rosy hit the
fire-escape on time to a second, and we was under the wire at the
Reverend's at 9.3O 1/4. She's up at the flat--she cooked eggs this
mornin' in a blue kimono--Lord! how lucky I am! You must pace up some
day, Ikey, and feed with us. I've got a job down near the bridge, and
that's where I'm heading for now."

"The--the--powder?" stammered Ikey.

"Oh, that stuff you gave me!" said Chunk, broadening his grin; "well, it
was this way. I sat down at the supper table last night at Riddle's, and
I looked at Rosy, and I says to myself, 'Chunk, if you get the girl get
her on the square--don't try any hocus-pocus with a thoroughbred like
her.' And I keeps the paper you give me in my pocket. And then my lamps
fall on another party present, who, I says to myself, is failin' in a
proper affection toward his comin' son-in-law, so I watches my chance
and dumps that powder in old man Riddle's coffee--see?"

MAMMON AND THE ARCHER

Old Anthony Rockwall, retired manufacturer and proprietor of Rockwall's
Eureka Soap, looked out the library window of his Fifth Avenue mansion
and grinned. His neighbour to th