Police!!! | Page 2

stood on his terrace and shouted, "Police!" He was quite logical.
The Equal Franchise Society was having a May party in the park near the Harlem Mere. They had chosen the Honorable William Jennings Bryan as Queen of the May. He wore low congress-gaiters and white socks; he was walking under a canopy, crowned with paper flowers, his hair curled over his coat collar, the tips of his fingers were suavely joined over his abdomen.
The moment he caught sight of me he shouted, "Police!"
He was right. The cabinet lacked only me.
And I might have consented to tarry--might have allowed myself to be apprehended for political purposes, had not a nobler, holier, more imperative duty urged me northward still.
Though all Bloomingdale shouted, "Stop him!" and all Matteawan yelled, "Police!" I should not have consented to pause. Even the quackitudinous recognition spontaneously offered by the Metropolitan Museum had not been sufficient to decoy me to my fellows.
I knew, of course, that I could find a sanctuary and a welcome in many places--in almost any sectarian edifice, any club, any newspaper office, any of the great publishers', any school, any museum; I knew that I would be welcomed at Columbia University, at the annex to the Hall of Fame, in the Bishop's Palace on Morningside Heights--there were many places all ready to receive, understand and honour me.
For a sufficiently crippled intellect, for a still-born brain, for the intellectually aborted, there is always a place on some editorial, sectarian, or educational staff.
Try It!
But I had other ideas as I galloped northward. The voiceless summons of the most jealous of mistresses was making siren music in my ears. That coquettish jade, Science, was calling me by wireless, and I was responding with both legs.
And so, at last, I arrived at the Bronx Park and dashed into the Administration Building where everybody rose and cheered me to the echo.
I was at home at last, unterrified, undismayed, and ready again as always to dedicate my life to the service of Truth and to every caprice and whim of my immortal mistress, Science. But I don't want to marry her.
Magna est veritas! Sed major et longinquo reverentia.

CONTENTS
The Third Eye
The Immortal
The Ladies of the Lake
One Over
Un Peu d'Amour
The Eggs of the Silver Moon

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS
"Dainty noses to the wind, their beautiful eyes wide and alert"
"Climbing about among the mangroves above the water"
"To see him feed made me sick"
"'Kemper!' I shouted.... 'He's one of them! Knock him flat with your riflestock!'"
"Say, listen, Bo--I mean Prof., I've got the goods'"
"He played on his concertina ... on the chance that the music might lure a cave-girl down the hill"
"Moving warily and gracefully amid the great coquina slabs"
"I collapsed into the arms of the nicest looking one"
"The heavy artillery was evidently frightened"
"Somebody had swooned in his arms, too"
"'If you keep me up this tree and starve me to death it will be murder'"
"Then a horrible thing occurred"
"I felt so sorry for her that I kissed her"
"Out of the mud rose five or six dozen mammoths"
"Dr. Delmour used up every film in the camera to record the scientific triumph of the ages"
"'Everybody has put one over on me!' I shrieked"
"Miss Blythe had carried to her father a large bucket of lettuce leaves"
"'Don't let it bite!' cried the girl. 'Be careful, Mr. Smith!'"
"Kicked over the bucket of salad, and began to dance with rage"
"'It's a worm!' shrieked Blythe"
"'Which way do you usually go home?' I asked"
"This little caterpillar ... is certain to find those leaves'"

POLICE!!!

Being a few deathless truths concerning several mysteries recently and scientifically unravelled by a modest servant of Science.
Quo quisque stultior, eo magis insolescit.

THE THIRD EYE
Although the man's back was turned toward me, I was uncomfortably conscious that he was watching me. How he could possibly be watching me while I stood directly behind him, I did not ask myself; yet, nevertheless, instinct warned me that I was being inspected; that somehow or other the man was staring at me as steadily as though he and I had been face to face and his faded, sea-green eyes were focussed upon me.
It was an odd sensation which persisted in spite of logic, and of which I could not rid myself. Yet the little waitress did not seem to share it. Perhaps she was not under his glassy inspection. But then, of course, I could not be either.
No doubt the nervous tension incident to the expedition was making me supersensitive and even morbid.
Our sail-boat rode the shallow torquoise-tinted waters at anchor, rocking gently just off the snowy coral reef on which we were now camping. The youthful waitress who, for economy's sake, wore her cap, apron, collar and cuffs over her dainty print dress, was seated by the signal fire writing in her diary. Sometimes she thoughtfully touched her pencil point with the tip of