my counting it. Merely a business habit, you know."

"Well, stick to business habits, Mr. Forme. Good night."

Rowell walked briskly back to Mellish's. Forme walked toward the
railway station and found that there was a train for Chicago at 4 in
the morning. He had one clear day and part of another before he was
missed, and as it turned out all trace of him was lost in the big city.
The bank found about $6,000 missing. Two years after, news came that
Forme had been shot dead in a gambling hall in Southern Texas.

"We are two first-class fools," said Rowell to Mellish, "and I for one
don't feel proud of the episode, so we'll say nothing more about it.
The gambling mania was in his blood. Gambling is not a vice; it is a
disease, latent in all of us."




THE BRUISER'S COURTSHIP.


While the Northern Bruiser sat in the chair in his corner and was being
fanned he resolved to finish the fight at the next round. The superior
skill of his opponent was telling upon him, and although the Bruiser
was a young man of immense strength, yet, up to that time, the
alertness and dexterity of the Yorkshire Chicken had baffled him, and
prevented him from landing one of his tremendous shoulder thrusts. But
even though skill had checkmated strength up to this point, the Chicken
had not entirely succeeded in defending himself, and was in a condition