BOLD BAD BANDIT

Dominion, Volume 28, Issue 98, 19 January 1935, Page 23

BOLD BAD BANDIT

A Wonderful Idea Never a sea so gay, never a sky so blue —! It was really all most poetic and satisfactory thought Jeremy (in much simpler language) as he set off down the beach, road to play bandits with the rest of the gang. Jeremy was looking rather fierce as he strode along. Bandits were all very well in looks, but they had real guns to fire, real jewels to steal, real people to kill and real horses to ride. Horses. That was the trouble. It was simply no use escaping when everybody else could run much faster than you could—and the grass cut your leas and things. No fun at all. Jeremy pulled his forelock in the exact way that Bill the gardener did, and waited for inspiration. He could just see the beach edge behind the waring grass; the white sail of a. yacht filled him with longing, for one brief moment then——no, it couldn't be—bu( it was, quite definitely, the quick clatter-clip of hooves on metal. Jeremy turned quickly. Along the beach road just behind him came a small grep donkey, saddled, bridled, and led by a tall boy who took no notice of him. looked at them, gaped at them as they passed and followed them in a strange sort of trance, down to the beach. . Bandits forgotten. Sailing, fishing, beach forgotten. Jeremy stood and gazed. The grey donkey yawned and rubbed his leg- Jeremy gazed at the donkey boy. lie stood lazily, resting on his stick, not a bit interested in his charge. Something bold and bad seized Jeremy. The spirits of all the bandits took possession of his hot young head. Quick as a thought he scrambled on to grey donkey’s back, shook the reins, and shouted. “Hcy-up!" With a prance, of surprise the donkey galloped down the long beach. “Stop—thief. Hi ‘there," shouted the donkey boy. But the grey donkey

went faster, and Jeremy clung tightly to the saddle. Past the sandhills they rushed, over the stream and straight into the sandhill hollow where the Bandit Ganfrwas waiting for Jeremy. “Jeremy," chorused the gang. Jeremy said nothing, he was far too breathless. But he sat very straight and smihd proudly. “You’ll catch it," said the chief. “That's Jack Dixon’s pony. How did you get it?” Bi/ this time Jeremy had recovered his breath a bit. “I ,” he said (the glow was already fading), “f .” “Hi, you,” culled an interrupting voice as the donkey boy rushed angrily into the circle. “What’s the idea? Horse thief, that's what you arc—liable to get lynched—Sheriff’s orders." “Oh!" said Jeremy, and he took a large, deep breath and told the donkey boy all about the bandits, and how everything was done so much better with horses—like Tom Mix.” “Did you. sec him in the picture where he shoots all the rustlers and lassoes the sheriff who was really the ringleader? Wouldn't it be great if we coula do some lassocing—just like him!" “I’ve got. some rope at home," said Jeremy. “It’s very long." “Off you go then—Hey—wait a minute. What about that donkey stealing ins in css ? “Let’s have a collection. Here’s a penny. Here’s two! Another. Threepence. No more ice creams, sixpence," and the gang nobly emptied out its P The donkey boy grinned. “Look here, chaps,” he said, “I don’t make so much standing there on the beach with old Felix; and it gets pretty dull. llt take the day off, and we'll use Felix and the lassoo and have a real Wild West picture. Any good?” “Any good?” breathed the gang reverently. "Any good!" And with one accord they cheered loud and heartily for Felix, and the donkey boy, and his great idea,—A.B,