A HARD LUCK STORY

LAWYER JONES had reached his home unusually early that after noon. for he had found himself rather under the weather preparing the depositions and briefs in the famous case his firm had acquired. He had taken off all his outer clothing and had wrapped himself in his bathrobe, while waiting for his supper, in the calm knowledge that his partner was on his way to the county seat with all the important papers in his charge. He determined to take a day's rest while waiting for the telegram that would announce the verdict in their favor, which would mean that the fee would provide an automobile for each of them if they desired it.

      "Supper's ready," his daughter called, in the midst of his reflections.

      "Br-r-r-ring," went the doorbell at the same moment.

"TELEGRAM, PAPA."

      "Telegram, papa," the daughter announced in a moment. And Lawyer Jones eagerly scanned the message.

      "Get papers on my desk, Catch seven o'clock train sure; forgot to bring briefs and depositions. — Smith," he read.

      "Holy beeswax." he shouted, and before any of the family could learn what was the matter he was hurrying into his clothes and cursing under his breath.

"BACK SOME TIME TO-MORROW."

      "Be back sometime to-morrow or next day," he shouted as he dashed through the hall. "Smith's forgot the important papers and I've got to go down and take them to him."

      "But what about your supper?" his wife cried after him.

ONTO THE BACK PLATFORM.

      He heard, but had no time to answer. By the time he had reached the office and had secured the coveted papers he began to think seriously about his supper, but a glance at his watch warned him that he had just about time to catch his train and that was all. With his bundle of documents under his arm he hurried to the depot and was fortunate in swinging on to the back platform just behind the brakeman.

      As he sank into his seat he congratulated himself on his luck in getting good service on the telegram and in catching his train, but the thought of his empty stomach would not be silenced and he called the porter to ask if the train, stopped anywhere for dinner.

      "Most everybody had their dinner before they got on," said the obliging '4''recipient of a 25-cent tip, "and I don't know of any place where you can get a meal between here and Cameron. There might be a place, boss, and if I hears of any I'll let you know."

THROUGH THE DOOR.

      Jones went into a reverie on an empty stomach and finally dozed off to sleep. When the porter shook him, calling "Cameron," he jumped mechanically from his seat and dashed through the door to the dimly lighted restaurant. The man behind the counter was awfully slow about getting his coffee and his sandwich, and although the piece of ham he received between the layers of the bun was not exactly what he would naturally have received without protest, he was hungry enough to accept anything and he bolted it as fast as he could. The coffee was very hot and he had to go slow with it. Perhaps it was the steam from the coffee that blinded his sight, or maybe it was the conversation between the man in the white apron and the boss to whether the conductor had paid tor his meal, that took his attention away from the train, for the first thing he realized was that the train was pulling out of the depot, and it wasn't going very slow at that.

      Without stopping to pay for what he had Jones burst through the door and tore after the train. The last car had already passed the platform and he would never have made it in the world if it hadn't been that a water tank up the road offered promise that the engine might stop for supplies. Jones simply had to catch that train, for he had left his important papers on the seat, and if they were not in court the next morning the embarrassment to his firm would be severe. So he ran as fast as he could, although the train was leaving him rapidly, in the hope that the water tank would be his savior. And his good fortune was with him, for the engine soon began drinking eagerly from the huge funnel and was just through when he came within hollering distance of the rear end of the train. But shout as he would he received no answer from the brakeman, who villainously swung his lantern, and the puffs of the engine betokened an effort at starting again. With fierce desperation Jones urged himself forward and again reached the rear hand railing just as the train was getting into speed again. At the same time he was almost hit in the head by a white package that caught the breeze after it left one of the open windows of the car.

      Utterly exhausted he sank into a seat, and it was several minutes before he could gather breath enough to go forward to his old seat. The first thing he looked for was his bundle of papers, and his stomach became very empty again when he discovered that the seat was empty.

      He looked quickly about him, and the only other man in the car was sound asleep in the seat behind his. He called the conductor and the brakeman and neither of them had seen his precious documents. Indeed, they doubted if he had them with him when he got on the train. The argument grew so noisy and excited that the sleeping passenger was aroused, and when he saw Lawyer Jones he started as if he had seen a visitor from the dead.

      "Why, where — that is — what — say, I thought you got off at the last station," he exclaimed, thoroughly and suddenly awake.

      "I did get off for a cup of coffee," said Jones, "but what's worrying me is —"

      "Well, say," the passenger broke in, "wasn't that your bundle on the seat here in front of me?"

      "That's what I'm making all this fuss about." Jones returned. "I left some very important papers on the seat here, and when I came back they were go —"

"THREW THEM OUT THE WINDOW."

      "Important papers!" the passenger seemed half dazed. "By Jove! that's too bad. I thought it was a bundle of small laundry or something of that sort. When you didn't show up after the train pulled out of the last station, I was sure they belonged to you, and fearing that you had got off there for good, I just threw them out of the window in the hope that some one would find them and take them to you."

      It would be very pleasant if it were possible to say at this time that the unfortunate Lawyer Jones had by some miraculous means found his valuable papers in the courtroom when he arrived there next morning, but alas, such was not the case. He nearly burned up the wires that night telegraphing from every station as he passed, and when he reached his destination next morning he was just as much in ignorance about his papers as when he received the startling information of their disposition by his fellow passenger. When the judge had listened to his story he readily granted a continuance of the case until the papers could be found, and the truth is they haven't been found yet — much to the benefit of one or the other side of the case. — Kansas City Star.