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A DII52510 s'oo Lit It 11 A WEEK will assume a worried look at this point. "You have made a dreadful mistake. You have brought me fresh How did you happen to mistake me for the proprietor?" When cracked, this quip is sure of loud and reverberating laughter. And the waiter will positively be found in the gallery that night. For use to hotel clerks: "Good afternoon! Is there any mail in the box? No? Well, then, will you see if there is any in the orchestra seat?" For use to bootblacks: "I suppose they call you 'son' because you shine." For barbers: "If you cut me, I warn you, the next time I meet you on the street I'll cut you dead." Under the heading of "Afternoon Teas," a couple of samples of my routine comedy are as follows: (1) For the young lady who is pouring.

"I always love to come after tea, because, by coming after I am nearer (2) For the hostess, on taking my departure: "I have had a most pleasant hour. I have, in fact, been suited to a Tea." If no smile is forthcoming. I continue thus: "And the mention of tea always reminds me of a faux pas committed by me at tea one afternoon last year in Philadelphia. 'What do you think of that young lady over one of the men present asked me casually. 1 protested 'I am no judge of The man flashed me a thundercloud look.

Then his face softened. 'But he never saw an angel that was not Upon learning subsequently that the young woman was his I punished myself by going out and riding on a Philadelphia streetcar." Referring to the heading of "Dinner Conversation," I submit herewith a few of my most frequently used jests that have always aroused merriment in the crises in point: (1) When someone in the party mentions "Ah," say I in an offhand, nonchalant, drawling manner, "all that is requisite in the enjoyment of love or sausages is (2) At sight of a corkscrew: "Corkscrews have sunk more people than cork jackets will ever save." (3) When soup is served: "In a New York restaurant when a Westerner orders soup the orchestra always starts playing Wagner. It's loudest." (4) Speaking ot luncheons: "It's been said that luncheon is a base ingratitude to break fast anil a premeditated insult to dinner. (5) When music is the topic: "That sour note just then must have emanated from the dill piccolo." Passing to still another Retorts," this one is may quote for your confidential observation several of the old standbys that constantly serve me in good stead. (1) In answer to the ubiquitous question, "What's cost of living and my coat collar." (2) Replying to the recurrent slangy remark, "What do you know about "That what?" (3) Comic retort to the request, "Will you give me your I haven't an auto!" (4) Excruciating reply to request for photograph: "Ah, but the trouble is that you flatter me too much and the photographer flatters me too little." A N'D so it goes.

These few samples will suffice. "Fearful stuff!" I hear you exclaim. And I thoroughly and wholly agree with you. Hut it is the sort of "comedy" the publie wants from its professional comedians off the stage. That's still another side of the deep tragedy of it.

Imagine the sensation felt by the comedian when loud laughter greets one of his made-to-ordcr retorts, a retort he has sprung probably fifty times already, which he knew was just simply awful even before he used it the first time! Imagine the secret sorrow lie feels for the fellow who almost tumbles out of his chair in an ecstasy of joy when he cracks that "dill piccolo" joke. And imagine, before you go one step further, having to listen to yourself crack this same "dill piccolo" joke more than once in the presence of respectable members of society without feelirg so blamed ashamed of yourself that you want to go out in the back yard and lie down and die! After you have done all this, take a long breath and imagine yourself in the place of one of us who is rarely even privileged to utter a simple "How do you do" without having to give it some sort of humorous flip in order to live up to our insistent public reputations! Imagine yourself robbed of the delightful privilege and keen joy of ever remarking in all honesty to a fellow man, "You're getting awfully thin" or "How badly you look," without grinning from ear to ear as if you didn't mean it. SHERIFF REACH'S MIRACLE a train or a car, running wild, would plunge through the miles if it had the luck to stick to the rails! Would it be insanity to try it? Was Reach crazy, or was his just the superior sort of nerve to do such an undreamed of thing and get away with it? Suddenly something seemed to fire up in his brain like flame. This was the crisis of all his life so far. Should he dare less than another man when the stake he played for was so high? It was not his game alone.

It was his elient's, and the girl herself had already taken a hand. How shall we stop, if we ever reach the valley?" he said. "Hart, by good luck, is just beyond the lowest point in the grade," answered the Sheriff. "When we begin to take the rise we'll set the brakes and dump the ears. They'll jump the rails." Buckler looked at the nearest wheels.

"They're blocked." he said. "Yes," replied Reach simply. "I sent Lawler for a couple of picks." Lawler came back with the picks and then went quietly away. Whether he understood the Sheriff's intention did not appear. Reach climbed on the cars in the growing darkness.

They were of the gondola or hopper type, dumping between the rails. "A crack or two with a pick will dump each car," he said, as he jumped down again beside Vance. HAT the men at the station heard or saw or thought when the dark train on the siding began to slide toward them, the two on top of the gravel filled cars could only guess. There was nothing that could be done to stop them. If the agent had been alert, he might have seen the switchlight move when at the last moment, before releasing brakes and blocks, the Sheriff threw open the siding.

But it was too late when the cars had rolled out on the main and were already feeling the strong pull of the grade like the tug of a locomotive. Buckler looked down at a half-dozen scared gray faces in the dim lights as the cars rumbled past, and saw Morton, the station agent. Then, with Continued from page 14 the wind singing in His ears, he forgot them all to listen to Reach. You elimb back to the last car!" shouted the Sheriff in the growing din. "When we get near the bottom let the patent coupler loose and set your brakes.

You'll be able to slow the car a little, anyway. I'll leave the brakes open on the rest till you're free, Then I'll set 'em and dump one car after another. That'll help stop you if it don't spill you. Then you dump yours when you hit the first sign of a rise, and jump as soon as your car slows down. It'll work, I believe.

I'll get off somewhere on the up-grade beyond." Buckler scrambled back over the cars. They were already lurching as they struck the lesser curves of the track, and their corners jolted over rail joints with a heavy sag that showed their great weight. He climbed from car to car with utmost caution and crouched upon the last. He clung to the steel upright of the hand brake. The car swayed and jerked.

Ahead the other cars were heaving and leaping now like a tow of barges in rough water. The flying sand struck him cuttingly in the'face. Into and out of the shadow, turning, twisting, stretching at the straight rushes, checking never so slightly on long hard curves, grinding the rails, roaring over culverts, once crashing across a trembling trestle, once whisking through a short tunnel, the train sped like a creature in panic. The low wheels of the great gondolas clung to the track like steel to a magnet. Buckler sank down full length in the sand and held on for his life.

The jerk of the car from side to side was becoming appalling. The jar and pound were heavier than he had believed they could be upon an unbroken track. The stream of sand from the cars ahead poured over him in a shower. The wind snatched his hat away, and his hair filled, while the dry grains sifted into his collar and sleeves. He dared not look up.

The wind began to suck at his breath, and he Itent an elbow to breathe behind it. A sense of losing track of things startled him out of his earlier poise. The roar of the wheels, the shrieks they tore from the rails at the curves, the rattle of loose chuins and bral.e^ arii links, the straining of timbers, all united in a clamor that filled his head. THEN something out of the jangling din caught his ear with a special note and he recognized a thin, shrill shred ot sound weaving in and out through the clamor, lie raised his head to listen. The blast of sand seemed suddenly to have grown less, and the motion had steadied, for the moment at least.

Straight ahead, somewhere far down what looked now like a straight slope, was a little glow of light, and against it he caught in momentary black silhouette the s(juartforward end of the train he was on and the figure of a man standing on his feet and clinging to the brake wheel there. That was Reach, alert, not intimidated in the slightest, sticking by, ready to do his part. Buckler groped for his pick in the of the car, realizing that the time had come to act. He must loose the patent coupler and then set the brakes. He struc the head of his pick on the coupler bar, and next moment heard the pin jangle against the drawbar and knew that his first stroke had told.

He scrambled back to the brake with new eagerness and swung his long body upon the wheel. It was at that instant that the first light flashed past him, and the knowledge that they had actually reached the town struck upon him with the force of the unbelievable come true. Another light whisked tin another, then a sudden flood of strict opening, and a hollow rumble coming for an in stant from the wheels told of a crossing. He must dump the car now, he remembered, and he climbed down over the car front, ana a moment afterward was aiming clumsy blows at the ratchets, while he held the brake rod with the other hand. The car dumped with a rush.

He- felt the release of its load in the indescribable lightness of its spring. But at the same instant the brakes seemed to take hold and drag with new power on the wheels. For the first time a gap opened between the running cars. Then there was a sudden check, more decided than the first, and presently another and an uncertain movement of the car. All at once the great gondola seemed to be rearing heavily into the air like a tired but obstinate horse, and to dodge toward the side with a staggering, blind, dragging leap, and next instant it had sunk its trucks deep into the sod and loam of the ungraded right of wav and stopped, and Buckler was sitting in the wet of a muddy gutter, dizzily scious that the race was over and that he was still alive.

A TALL voung man with a very white face, with hands torn and bleeding, with clothing a mass of muddy rags, but with eyes afire with triumph, told an almost incredible story to the gathering crowd at Hart station. Another man in similar condition and limping painfully, but also triumphant, came in out of the darkness. And half an hour later a motorcar coming in from the mountain road was met by a posse before it could turn into the dark back streets leading to the depot; and one of hree passengers, a small man with a shaved head covered by a cap, with a seared face that was not covered at all, was taken over to the county jail, to be held safely against tomorrow's opening of court. The gravel train was pretty well wrecked on the hillside opposite the mountain, and the people went out en masse to view its remains. It had come eighteen miles in a trifle less than twenty-two minutes.

BUT meanwhile three persons sat in John Rector's library and listened while the fourth told the tale all over again, with details. Buckler gave Reach the credit, which Reach disclaimed, and the Sheriff silenced the lawyer's insistence by laying all tiie laurels most gracefully, and to Vance confusion, at Connie's feet. And old John tor smiled and his eyes gleamed as he listened in a manner that his daughter argued meant "Anyway," she said, with modesty equaling the Sheriff's, "we'll win our case now. If the remark was ambiguous, Reach didn't know it. "I'm only sorry we didn catch Bane himself red handed, instead ot his foreman only," he remarked, with a single eye to business.

I don't think he'll push a case against us for train stealing, though," said Buckler, looking at the girl. "And you, Mr. Reach," said Connie slowly, as if 'all other things were satisfactorily settled, what's to be your reward "Me?" echoed the Sheriff. "Oh, say, i don't need any. I got onto some new wrinkles tonight.

I'm going to spend my leisure time hereafter making a fortune building roller coasters, with a sand box on the front, for a real sensation..