me to make out
plainly. His head, I thought was silver-coloured, and I think the
headgear had some sort of knobs on it. All this, of course, I didn't
catch at the time, because my heart was hammering away excitedly and
making my fingers shake as I fumbled for a matchbox in my pocket, I
pushed it open and let the matches scatter out. Then, as gently as my
excitement would allow, I pushed the tiny man from the ledge into the
box; for I had suddenly realized the greatness of this amazing
discovery.

The car was barely half-filled and no attention had been directed my
way. I slid quickly out of the empty seat and hurriedly alighted at the
next stop.

In a daze, I stood where I had alighted waiting for the next No. 10 that
would return me home, the matchbox held tightly in my hand. They'd put
that box in a museum one day!

[Illustration]

I collect stamps--I've heard about getting rare ones with inverted
centers, or some minor deviation that made them immensely valuable. I'd
imagined getting one by mistake sometime that would make me rich. But
this! They'd billed "King Kong" as "The Eighth Wonder of the World," but
that was only imaginary--a film ... a terrifying thought crossed my
mind. I pushed open the box hastily: maybe _I_ had been dreaming. But
there it was--the unbelievable; the Little Man!

A car was before me, just leaving. Its polished surface had not
reflected through the haze, and the new design made so little noise that
I hadn't seen it. I jumped for it, my mind in such a turmoil that the
conductor had to ask three times for my fare. Ordinarily, I would have
been embarrassed, but a young man with his mind on millions doesn't
worry about little things like that. At least, not this young man.

How I acted on the streetcar, or traversed the five blocks from the end
of the line, I couldn't say. If I may imagine myself, though, I must
have strode along the street like a determined machine. I reached the
house and let myself into the basement room. Inside, I pulled the shades
together and closed the door, the matchbox still in my hand. No one was
at home this time of day, which pleased me particularly, for I wanted to
figure out how I was going to present this wonder to the world.

I flung myself down on the bed and opened the matchbox. The little man
lay very still on the bottom.

"Little Man!" I cried, and turned him out on the quilt. Maybe he had
suffocated in the box. Irrational thought! Small though it