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Newspaper Page Text
By Florence Lillian Henderson.
Hal Duncan woke up from his
slumber on the sunny-side of a pile
of lumber at the sound, rubbed his
eyes and stared suspicious at a spruce
appearing young fellow "shooting"
him with a camera and a smile.
"Hey! what are you up to?" chal
lenged the reused sleeper.
"Oh, I've got a famous story on you
and I wanted your picture to make
it more interesting," explained Dave
The Star Had Made a Fearful Mistake
.Lind. "I'm a reporter for the Star.
One of your chums told me about
you and piloted me here. I gave him
a dollar to do it. I'll give you five to
go over what he's told me and add
. enough to it to make a two-column
"special what do you say?"
; Hal Duncan looked bored. It was
not the first time he had been the
i subject .of pictoral publicity. Hal was
.unique as a tramp and a good deal
of a gentleman. Something of a
mystery, too. It seemed that about
'two years since he had appeared
among the hoboes. They made a fa
vorite of him, for many a story was
told of his care for poor sick fellows
and homeless ones, many a stirring
tale of some thrilling exploits in a
ramble over half the country; a fire
discovered in time to save a whole
business block, a knockout of foot
pads who would have killed a victim
but for his interference, the rescue of
two little children from a burning
Hal shared everything with his fel
low unfortunates except hfs moral
nature of self-respect. He never got
down to rags. He was a reformer all
through and had made a famous
speech in behalf of the poor and op
pressed that had got into the papers.
But he was dead to the old world,
where apparently he must have once
led a life of what people call respec
tability. Now for a moment he seemed
about to resent the proposal of the
energetic young newspaper reporter,
then with his usual careless self
abandon he shrugged his shoulders
resignedly and said:
"All right. I need the money and
I guess I can give you good value."
Pathos, adventure, humor
through many unique shades of rare
human interest Hal led the interested
reporter. The latter regarded the
narrator both pityingly and admir
ingly. "There's your money," he said,
"and you've given me some good
stuff. I say, though, it seems a pity
to see a man of your intelligence
wasting your life like a common
tramp. Why, my friend?"
"Call it the 'wanderlust," disgust
with the so-called respectable world!"
laughed Hal. "I have -found warmer
hearts among the wreckage of hu
manity than I ever knew in. society."
The "why" of the reporter, who
left Hal, with a cheery "Good luck,"
sent the latter into ajsudden reverie.
"Why," indeed! Before his mental
vision passed a series of vivid pic
tures of a small fortune left to him,