man felt his pulse. "He's certainly hot enough. Who is he?"

"Hank Jones."

"That's a lie--I'm 'Black Mose,'" said Harold.

The policeman smiled. "'Black Mose' was killed in San Juan last summer."

Harold received this news gravely. "Sorry for him, but I'm the man.
You'll find my name on my revolver, the big one--not the little one. I'm
all the 'Black Mose' there is. If you'll give me a chance I'll rope a
steer with you for blood or whisky; I'm thirsty."

"Well now," said the policeman, "you be quiet till the doctor comes, and
I'll go through your valise." After a hasty examination he said: "Damned
little here, and no revolvers of any kind. Does he eat here?"

"No, he only hires this room."

"Mebbe he don't eat anywhere; he looks to me like a hungry man."

"Dot's what I think," said the maid. "I'll go pring him some soup."

The prisoner calmly said: "Too late now; my stomach is all dried up."

"Haven't you any folks?" the policeman asked.

Harold seemed to pause for thought. "I believe I have, but I can't
think. Mary could tell you."

"Who's Mary?"

"What's that to you. Bring me some water--I'm burning dry."

"Now keep quiet," said the policeman; "you're sick as a horse."

When the doctor came the policeman turned Harold over to him. "This is a
case for St. Luke's Hospital, I guess," he said as he went out.

The doctor briskly administered a narcotic as being the easiest and
simplest way to handle a patient who seemed friendless and penniless.
"The man is simply delirious with fever. He looks like a man emaciated
from lack of food. What do you know about him?"

The landlord confessed he knew but little.

The doctor resumed: "Of course you can't attend to him here. I'll inform
the hospital authorities at once. Meanwhile, communicate with his
friends if you can. He'll be all right for the present."

This valuable man was hardly gone before a lively young fellow with a
smoothly shaven, smiling face slipped in. He went through every pocket
of Harold's clothing, and found a torn envelope with the name "Excell"
written on it, and a small photo of a little girl with the words, "To
Mose from Cora." The young man's smile became a chuckle as he saw these
things, and he said to himself: "Nothing here to identify him, eh?"
Then to the landlord he said; "I'm from The Star office. If anything new
turns up I wish you'd call up Harriman, that's me, and let me in on it."

The hospital authorities were not informed,