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"TOM!"

No answer.

"TOM!"

No answer.

"What's gone with that boy, I wonder? You TOM!"

No answer.

"Old longings nomadic leap,
Chafing at custom's chain;
Again from its brumal sleep
Wakens the ferine strain."

Buck did not read the newspapers, or he would have known that
trouble was brewing, not alone for himself, but for every tide-
water dog, strong of muscle and with warm, long hair, from Puget
Sound to San Diego. Because men, groping in the Arctic darkness,
had found a yellow metal, and because steamship and transportation
companies were booming the find, thousands of men were rushing
into the Northland. These men wanted dogs, and the dogs they
wanted were heavy dogs, with strong muscles by which to toil, and
furry coats to protect them from the frost.

On an east-bound train I went into the smoker and found Jefferson

Peters, the only man with a brain west of the Wabash River who can use

his cerebrum cerebellum, and medulla oblongata at the same time.

Without a doubt much of the spirit and genius of the Caliph Harun Al

Rashid descended to the Margrave August Michael von Paulsen Quigg.

Quigg's restaurant is in Fourth Avenue--that street that the city seems

to have forgotten in its growth. Fourth Avenue--born and bred in the

Bowery--staggers northward full of good resolutions.

A guard came to the prison shoe-shop, where Jimmy Valentine was

assiduously stitching uppers, and escorted him to the front office.

There the warden handed Jimmy his pardon, which had been signed that

morning by the governor. Jimmy took it in a tired kind of way. He had

served nearly ten months of a four year sentence. He had expected to

stay only about three months, at the longest. When a man with as many

friends on the outside as Jimmy Valentine had is received in the

"stir" it is hardly worth while to cut his hair.

The policeman on the beat moved up the avenue impressively. The impressiveness was habitual and not for show, for spectators were few. The time was barely 10 o'clock at night, but chilly gusts of wind with a taste of rain in them had well nigh depeopled the streets.

One dollar and eighty-seven cents. That was all. And sixty cents of it was in pennies. Pennies saved one and two at a time by bulldozing the grocer and the vegetable man and the butcher until one's cheeks burned with the silent imputation of parsimony that such close dealing implied. Three times Della counted it. One dollar and eighty- seven cents. And the next day would be Christmas.

"One thousand dollars," repeated Lawyer Tolman,

solemnly and severely, "and here is the money."

Young Gillian gave a decidedly amused laugh as

he fingered the thin package of new fifty-dollar notes.

In a little district west of Washington Square the streets have run

crazy and broken themselves into small strips called "places." These

"places" make strange angles and curves. One street crosses itself

a time or two. An artist once discovered a valuable possibility in

this street. Suppose a collector with a bill for paints, paper and

canvas should, in traversing this route, suddenly meet himself

coming back, without a cent having been paid on account!