英语小故事及作者

儿童英语小故事

关于宝藏的儿童故事一直很受孩子们的欢迎，下面是我整理的英语小故事，欢迎大家阅读!

Pirate's Treasure--Written by Carol Moore

海盗的宝藏-作者：卡罗尔-摩尔

"Ten steps from the porch and twenty steps from the rose bushes," growled Bluebeard in Jimmy's dream one night. "There be treasure there! Aawrgh."

So the next day Jimmy began to dig. He dug until the hole was deep and the dirt pile was high.

He kept digging. The hole got deeper and the dirt pile got higher.

He dug until the hole was deepest and the dirt pile was at its highest. He sighed. "I'm too tired. I can't dig anymore." Then he spied something...

...but it was only one of Woofy's bones. Instead of treasure, all Jimmy had was a dog bone, a hole, and a big pile of dirt to fill it in with. He thought "That pirate lied to me!"

But when Jimmy's mother saw what he had done, she clasped her hands and smiled a smile from here to Sunday. "Oh, thank you, Jimmy. I always wanted a rhododendron bush planted just there. Here's $5.00 for digging that hole."

“距离走廊十步，玫瑰花丛20步的地方，”一天夜里蓝胡子在吉米的梦里咆哮道，“那里有珍宝!”

所以第二天，吉米开始挖。他一直挖，直到坑很深了，挖出的土堆得很高了。

他不停地挖。坑越来越深，土越堆越高。

他一直挖，直到坑已经非常深，土堆得非常高。他叹了口气：“我太累了。我不能再挖了。”然后他开始搜索。

但是除了一块伍菲的骨头，他什么也没找到。吉米所得到的仅仅是一块狗啃的骨头，一个坑还有一大堆土，而不是财宝。他想：“那个海盗欺骗了我!”

但当吉米的妈妈看到他所做的一切，她高兴得拍手。从那时一直拍到星期天。“哦，谢谢你，吉米。我一直以来都想在那里栽一丛杜鹃花。这5美元奖励你挖那个坑。”

狼和七只小山羊

There was once upon a time an old goat who had seven little kids, and loved them with all the love of a mother for her children. One day she wanted to go into the forest andfetch some food. So she called all seven to her and said, "Dear children, I have to go into the forest, be on your guard against the wolf; if he comes in, he will devour you all -- skin, hair, and all. The wretch often disguises himself, but you will know him at once by his rough voice and his black feet." The kids said, "Dear mother, we will take good care of ourselves; you may go away without any anxiety." Then the old one bleated, and went on her way with an easy mind.

从前有只老山羊。它生了七只小山羊，并且像所有母亲爱孩子一样爱它们。一天，它要到森林里去取食物，便把七个孩子全叫过来，对它们说：“亲爱的孩子们，我要到森林里去一下，你们一定要提防狼。要是让狼进屋，它会把你们全部吃掉的——连皮带毛通通吃光。这个坏蛋常常把自己化装成别的样子，但是，你们只要一听 到他那粗哑的声音、一看到它那黑黑的爪子，就能认出它来。”小山羊们说：“好妈妈，我们会当心的。你去吧，不用担心。”老山羊咩咩地叫了几声，便放心地去了。

It was not long before some one knocked at the house-door and called, "Open the door, dear children; your mother is here, and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the little kids knew that it was the wolf, by the rough voice; "We will not open the door," cried they, "thou art not our mother. She has a soft, pleasant voice, but thy voice is rough; thou art the wolf!" Then the wolf went away to a shopkeeper and bought himself a great lump of chalk, ate this and made his voice soft with it. Then he came back, knocked at the door of the house, and cried, "Open the door, dear children, your mother is here and has brought something back with her for each of you." But the wolf had laid his black paws against the window, and the children saw them and cried, "We will not open the door, our mother has not black feet like thee; thou art the wolf." Then the wolf ran to a baker and said, "I have hurt my feet, rub some dough over them for me." And when the baker had rubbed his feet over, he ran to the miller and said, "Strew some white meal over my feet for me." The miller thought to himself, "The wolf wants todeceive someone," and refused; but the wolf said, "If thou will not do it, I will devourthee." Then the miller was afraid, and made his paws white for him. Truly men are like that.

没过多久，有人敲门，而且大声说：“开门哪，我的好孩子。你们的妈妈回来了，还给你们每个人带来了一点东西。”可是，小山羊们听到粗哑的声音，立刻知道是 狼来了。“我们不开门，”它们大声说，“你不是我们的妈妈。我们的妈妈说话时声音又软又好听，而你的声音非常粗哑，你是狼!”于是，狼跑到杂货商那里，买 了一大块白垩土，吃了下去，结果嗓子变细了。然后它又回来敲山羊家的门，喊道：“开门哪，我的好孩子。你们的妈妈回来了，给你们每个人都带了点东西。”可 是狼把它的黑爪子搭在了窗户上，小山羊们看到黑爪子便一起叫道：“我们不开门。我们的妈妈没有你这样的黑爪子。你是狼!”于是狼跑到面包师那里，对他说： “我的脚受了点伤，给我用面团揉一揉。”等面包师用面团给它揉过之后，狼又跑到磨坊主那里，对他说：“在我的脚上洒点白面粉。”磨坊主想：“狼肯定是想去 骗什么人”，便拒绝了它的要求。可是狼说：“要是你不给我洒面粉，我就把你吃掉。”磨坊主害怕了，只好洒了点面粉，把狼的爪子弄成了白色。人就是这个德行!

So now the wretch went for the third time to the house-door, knocked at it and said, "Open the door for me, children, your dear little mother has come home, and has brought every one of you something back from the forest with her." The little kids cried, "First show us thy paws that we may know if thou art our dear little mother." Then he put his paws in through the window, and when the kids saw that they were white, they believed that all he said was true, and opened the door. But who should come in but the wolf! They were terrified and wanted to hide themselves. One sprang under the table, the second into the bed, the third into the stove, the fourth into the kitchen, the fifth into the cupboard, the sixth under the washing-bowl, and the seventh into the clock-case. But the wolf found them all, and used no great ceremony; one after the other he swallowed them down his throat. The youngest, who was in the clock-case, was the only one he did not find. When the wolf had satisfied his appetite he took himself off, laid himself down under a tree in the green meadow outside, and began to sleep.

这个坏蛋第三次跑到山羊家，一面敲门一面说：“开门哪，孩子们。你们的好妈妈回来了，还从森林里给你们每个人带回来一些东西。”小山羊们叫道：“你先把脚 给我们看看，好让我们知道你是不是我们的妈妈。”狼把爪子伸进窗户，小山羊们看到爪子是白的，便相信它说的是真话，打开了屋门。然而进来的.是狼!小山羊们 吓坏了，一个个都想躲起来。第一只小山羊跳到了桌子下，第二只钻进了被子，第三只躲到了炉子里，第四只跑进了厨房，第五只藏在柜子里，第六只挤在洗脸盆 下，第七只爬进了钟盒里。狼把它们一个个都找了出来，毫不客气地把它们全都吞进了肚子。只有躲在钟盒里的那只最小的山羊没有被狼发现。狼吃饱了之后，心满 意足地离开了山羊家，来到绿草地上的一棵大树下，躺下身子开始呼呼大睡起来。

Soon afterwards the old goat came home again from the forest. Ah! What a sight she saw there! The house-door stood wide open. The table, chairs, and benches were thrown down, the washing-bowl lay broken to pieces, and the quilts and pillows were pulled off the bed. She sought her children, but they were nowhere to be found. She called them one after another by name, but no one answered. At last, when she came to the youngest, a soft voice cried, "Dear mother, I am in the clock-case." She took the kid out, and it told her that the wolf had come and had eaten all the others. Then you may imagine how she wept over her poor children.

没过多久，老山羊从森林里回来了。啊!它都看到了些什么呀!屋门敞开着，桌子、椅子和凳子倒在地上，洗脸盆摔成了碎片，被子和枕头掉到了地上。它找它的孩 子，可哪里也找不到。它一个个地叫它们的名字，可是没有一个出来答应它。最后，当它叫到最小的山羊的名字时，一个细细的声音喊叫道：“好妈妈，我在钟盒 里。”老山羊把它抱了出来，它告诉妈妈狼来过了，并且把哥哥姐姐们都吃掉了。大家可以想象出老山羊失去孩子后哭得多么伤心!

At length in her grief she went out, and the youngest kid ran with her. When they came to the meadow, there lay the wolf by the tree and snored so loud that the branches shook. She looked at him on every side and saw that something was moving and struggling in his gorged belly. "Ah, heavens," said she, "is it possible that my poor children whom he has swallowed down for his supper, can be still alive?" Then the kid had to run home and fetch scissors, and a needle and thread, and the goat cut open the monster's stomach, and hardly had she make one cut, than one little kid thrust its head out, and when she cut farther, all six sprang out one after another, and were all still alive, and had suffered no injury whatever, for in his greediness the monster had swallowed them down whole. What rejoicing there was! They embraced their dear mother, and jumped like a sailor at his wedding. The mother, however, said, "Now go and look for some big stones, and we will fill the wicked beast's stomach with them while he is still asleep." Then the seven kids dragged the stones thither with all speed, and put as many of them into his stomach as they could get in; and the mother sewed him up again in the greatest haste, so that he was not aware of anything and never once stirred.

老山羊最后伤心地哭着走了出去，最小的山羊也跟着跑了出去。当它们来到草地上时，狼还躺在大树下睡觉，呼噜声震得树枝直抖。老山羊从前后左右打量着狼，看 到那家伙鼓得老高的肚子里有什么东西在动个不停。“天哪，”它说，“我的那些被它吞进肚子里当晚餐的可怜的孩子，难道它们还活着吗?”最小的山羊跑回家， 拿来了剪刀和针线。老山羊剪开那恶魔的肚子，刚剪了第一刀，一只小羊就把头探了出来。它继续剪下去，六只小羊一个个都跳了出来，全都活着，而且一点也没有 受伤，因为那贪婪的坏蛋是把它们整个吞下去的。这是多么令人开心的事啊!它们拥抱自己的妈妈，像当新娘的裁缝一样高兴得又蹦又跳。可是羊妈妈说：“你们去 找些大石头来。我们趁这坏蛋还没有醒过来，把石头装到它的肚子里去。”七只小山羊飞快地拖来很多石头，拼命地往狼肚子里塞;然后山羊妈妈飞快地把狼肚皮缝 好，结果狼一点也没有发觉，它根本都没有动弹。

When the wolf at length had had his sleep out, he got on his legs, and as the stones in his stomach made him very thirsty, he wanted to go to a well to drink. But when he began to walk and move about, the stones in his stomach knocked against each other and rattled. Then cried he,

"What rumbles and tumbles

Against my poor bones?

I thought 't was six kids,

But it's naught but big stones."

狼终于睡醒了。它站起身，想到井边去喝水，因为肚子里装着的石头使它口渴得要死。可它刚一迈脚，肚子里的石头便互相碰撞，发出哗啦哗啦的响声。它叫道：

“是什么东西，

在碰撞我的骨头?

我以为是六只小羊，

可怎么感觉像是石头?”

And when he got to the well and stooped over the water and was just about to drink, the heavy stones made him fall in, and there was no help, but he had to drownmiserably. When the seven kids saw that, they came running to the spot and cried aloud, "The wolf is dead! The wolf is dead!" and danced for joy round about the well with their mother.

它到了井边，弯腰去喝水，可沉重的石头压得它掉进了井里，淹死了。七只小山羊看到后，全跑到这里来叫道：“狼死了!狼死了!”它们高兴地和妈妈一起围着水井跳起舞来。

白雪公主 格林兄弟After the queen died , the King married another woman, who was in effective terms a witch. She was so jiealous of the beauty of Princess Snow White that she asked someone to take her life.But the man was unwilling to do that evil. At last ,he took Snow White to a forest and let her escape.However, one day ,the witch found that Snow White was still alive.She dressed up as a old grandma and come to the cottage where Snow White lived.She gave her a poisonous apple.Poor Snow White knew nothing about it and ate the apple happily.Unfortunately ,she fell down because of the apple.The seven dwarfs was sad but put her in a coffin.It was when holding the funeral that the handsome Prince turned up.He was impressed by the beauty.He came down and kissed Snow White.Then, suepringly,Snow White woke up.Finally ,they got married and stayed happily with each other.

以下是一篇非常著名的小故事，希望你喜欢。故事名：The Boarded Window作 者： Ambrose BierceIn 1830, only a few miles away from what is now the great city of Cincinnati, lay an immense and almost unbroken forest. The whole region was sparsely settled by people of the frontier--restless souls who no sooner had hewn fairly habitable homes out of the wilderness and attained to that degree of prosperity which today we should call indigence, than, impelled by some mysterious impulse of their nature, they abandoned all and pushed farther westward, to encounter new perils and privations in the effort to regain the meager comforts which they had voluntarily renounced. Many of them had already forsaken that region for the remoter settlements, but among those remaining was one who had been of those first arriving. He lived alone in a house of logs surrounded on all sides by the great forest, of whose gloom and silence he seemed a part, for no one had ever known him to smile nor speak a needless word. His simple wants were supplied by the sale or barter of skins of wild animals in the river town, for not a thing did he grow upon the land which, if needful, he might have claimed by right of undisturbed possession. There were evidences of "improvement"--a few acres of ground immediately about the house had once been cleared of its trees, the decayed stumps of which were half concealed by the new growth that had been suffered to repair the ravage wrought by the ax. Apparently the man's zeal for agriculture had burned with a failing flame, expiring in penitential ashes.The little log house, with its chimney of sticks, its roof of warping clapboards weighted with traversing poles and its "chinking" of clay, had a single door and, directly opposite, a window. The latter, however, was boarded up--nobody could remember a time when it was not. And none knew why it was so closed; certainly not because of the occupant's dislike of light and air, for on those rare occasions when a hunter had passed that lonely spot the recluse had commonly been seen sunning himself on his doorstep if heaven had provided sunshine for his need. I fancy there are few persons living today who ever knew the secret of that window, but I am one, as you shall see.The man's name was said to be Murlock. He was apparently seventy years old, actually about fifty. Something besides years had had a hand in his aging. His hair and long, full beard were white, his gray, lusterless eyes sunken, his face singularly seamed with wrinkles which appeared to belong to two intersecting systems. In figure he was tall and spare, with a stoop of the shoulders--a burden bearer. I never saw him; these particulars I learned from my grandfather, from whom also I got the man's story when I was a lad. He had known him when living near by in that early day.One day Murlock was found in his cabin, dead. It was not a time and place for coroners and newspapers, and I suppose it was agreed that he had died from natural causes or I should have been told, and should remember. I know only that with what was probably a sense of the fitness of things the body was buried near the cabin, alongside the grave of his wife, who had preceded him by so many years that local tradition had retained hardly a hint of her existence. That closes the final chapter of this true story--excepting, indeed, the circumstance that many years afterward, in company with an equally intrepid spirit, I penetrated to the place and ventured near enough to the ruined cabin to throw a stone against it, and ran away to avoid the ghost which every well-informed boy thereabout knew haunted the spot. But there is an earlier chapter--that supplied by my grandfather.When Murlock built his cabin and began laying sturdily about with his ax to hew out a farm--the rifle, meanwhile, his means of support--he was young, strong and full of hope. In that eastern country whence he came he had married, as was the fashion, a young woman in all ways worthy of his honest devotion, who shared the dangers and privations of his lot with a willing spirit and light heart. There is no known record of her name; of her charms of mind and person tradition is silent and the doubter is at liberty to entertain his doubt; but God forbid that I should share it! Of their affection and happiness there is abundant assurance in every added day of the man's widowed life; for what but the magnetism of a blessed memory could have chained that venturesome spirit to a lot like that?One day Murlock returned from gunning in a distant part of the forest to find his wife prostrate with fever, and delirious. There was no physician within miles, no neighbor; nor was she in a condition to be left, to summon help. So he set about the task of nursing her back to health, but at the end of the third day she fell into unconsciousness and so passed away, apparently, with never a gleam of returning reason.From what we know of a nature like his we may venture to sketch in some of the details of the outline picture drawn by my grandfather. When convinced that she was dead, Murlock had sense enough to remember that the dead must be prepared for burial. In performance of this sacred duty he blundered now and again, did certain things incorrectly, and others which he did correctly were done over and over. His occasional failures to accomplish some simple and ordinary act filled him with astonishment, like that of a drunken man who wonders at the suspension of familiar natural laws. He was surprised, too, that he did not weep--surprised and a little ashamed; surely it is unkind not to weep for the dead. "Tomorrow," he said aloud, "I shall have to make the coffin and dig the grave; and then I shall miss her, when she is no longer in sight; but now--she is dead, of course, but it is all right--it must be all right, somehow. Things cannot be so bad as they seem."（待续）

"What You Want" O HenryNight had fallen on that great and beautiful city known as Bagdad-on-the-Subway. And with the night came the enchanted glamour that belongs not to Arabia alone. In different masquerade the streets, bazaars and walled houses of the occidental city of romance were filled with the same kind of folk that so much interested our interesting old friend, the late Mr. H. A. Rashid. They wore clothes eleven hundred years nearer to the latest styles than H. A. saw in old Bagdad; but they were about the same people underneath. With the eye of faith, you could have seen the Little Hunchback, Sinbad the Sailor, Fitbad the Tailor, the Beautiful Persian, the one-eyed Calenders, Ali Baba and Forty Robbers on every block, and the Barber and his Six Brothers, and all the old Arabian gang easily.But let us revenue to our lamb chops.Old Tom Crowley was a caliph. He had $42,000,000 in preferred stocks and bonds with solid gold edges. In these times, to be called a caliph you must have money. The old-style caliph business as conducted by Mr. Rashid is not safe. If you hold up a person nowadays in a bazaar or a Turkish bath or a side street, and inquire into his private and personal affairs, the police court'll get you.Old Tom was tired of clubs, theatres, dinners, friends, music, money and everything. That's what makes a caliph - you must get to despise everything that money can buy, and then go out and try to want something that you can't pay for."I'll take a little trot around town all by myself," thought old Tom, "and try if I can stir up anything new. Let's see - it seems I've read about a king or a Cardiff giant or something in old times who used to go about with false whiskers on, making Persian dates with folks he hadn't been introduced to. That don't listen like a bad idea. I certainly have got a case of humdrumness and fatigue on for the ones I do know. That old Cardiff used to pick up cases of trouble as he ran upon 'em and give 'em gold - sequins, I think it was - and make 'em marry or got 'em good Government jobs. Now, I'd like something of that sort. My money is as good as his was even if the magazines do ask me every month where I got it. Yes, I guess I'll do a little Cardiff business to-night, and see how it goes."Plainly dressed, old Tom Crowley left his Madison Avenue palace, and walked westward and then south. As he stepped to the sidewalk, Fate, who holds the ends of the strings in the central offices of all the enchanted cities pulled a thread, and a young man twenty blocks away looked at a wall clock, and then put on his coat.James Turner worked in one of those little hat-cleaning establishments on Sixth Avenue in which a fire alarms rings when you push the door open, and where they clean your hat while you wait - two days. James stood all day at an electric machine that turned hats around faster than the best brands of champagne ever could have done. Overlooking your mild impertinence in feeling a curiosity about the personal appearance of a stranger, I will give you a modified description of him. Weight, 118; complexion, hair and brain, light; height, five feet six; age, about twenty-three; dressed in a $10 suit of greenish-blue serge; pockets containing two keys and sixty-three cents in change.But do not misconjecture because this description sounds like a General Alarm that James was either lost or a dead one.Allons!James stood all day at his work. His feet were tender and extremely susceptible to impositions being put upon or below them. All day long they burned and smarted, causing him much suffering and inconvenience. But he was earning twelve dollars per week, which he needed to support his feet whether his feet would support him or not.James Turner had his own conception of what happiness was, just as you and I have ours. Your delight is to gad about the world in yachts and motor-cars and to hurl ducats at wild fowl. Mine is to smoke a pipe at evenfall and watch a badger, a rattlesnake, and an owl go into their common prairie home one by one.James Turner's idea of bliss was different; but it was his. He would go directly to his boarding-house when his day's work was done. After his supper of small steak, Bessemer potatoes, stooed (not stewed) apples and infusion of chicory, he would ascend to his fifth-floor-back hall room. Then he would take off his shoes and socks, place the soles of his burning feet against the cold bars of his iron bed, and read Clark Russell's sea yarns. The delicious relief of the cool metal applied to his smarting soles was his nightly joy. His favorite novels never palled upon him; the sea and the adventures of its navigators were his sole intellectual passion. No millionaire was ever happier than James Turner taking his ease.When James left the hat-cleaning shop he walked three blocks out of his way home to look over the goods of a second-hand bookstall. On the sidewalk stands he had more than once picked up a paper-covered volume of Clark Russell at half price.While he was bending with a scholarly stoop over the marked-down miscellany of cast-off literature, old Tom the caliph sauntered by. His discerning eye, made keen by twenty years' experience in the manufacture of laundry soap (save the wrappers!) recognized instantly the poor and discerning scholar, a worthy object of his caliphanous mood. He descended the two shallow stone steps that led from the sidewalk, and addressed without hesitation the object of his designed munificence. His first words were no worse than salutatory and tentative.James Turner looked up coldly, with "Sartor Resartus" in one hand and "A Mad Marriage" in the other."Beat it," said he. "I don't want to buy any coat hangers or town lots in Hankipoo, New Jersey. Run along, now, and play with your Teddy bear.""Young man," said the caliph, ignoring the flippancy of the hat cleaner, "I observe that you are of a studious disposition. Learning is one of the finest things in the world. I never had any of it worth mentioning, but I admire to see it in others. I come from the West, where we imagine nothing but facts. Maybe I couldn't understand the poetry and allusions in them books you are picking over, but I like to see somebody else seem to know what they mean. I'm worth about $40,000,000, and I'm getting richer every day. I made the height of it manufacturing Aunt Patty's Silver Soap. I invented the art of making it. I experimented for three years before I got just the right quantity of chloride of sodium solution and caustic potash mixture to curdle properly. And after I had taken some $9,000,000 out of the soap business I made the rest in corn and wheat futures. Now, you seem to have the literary and scholarly turn of character; and I'll tell you what I'll do. I'll pay for your education at the finest college in the world. I'll pay the expense of your rummaging over Europe and the art galleries, and finally set you up in a good business. You needn't make it soap if you have any objections. I see by your clothes and frazzled necktie that you are mighty poor; and you can't afford to turn down the offer. Well, when do you want to begin?"The hat cleaner turned upon old Tom the eye of the Big City, which is an eye expressive of cold and justifiable suspicion, of judgment suspended as high as Haman was hung, of self-preservation, of challenge, curiosity, defiance, cynicism, and, strange as you may think it, of a childlike yearning for friendliness and fellowship that must be hidden when one walks among the "stranger bands." For in New Bagdad one, in order to survive, must suspect whosoever sits, dwells, drinks, rides, walks or sleeps in the adjacent chair, house, booth, seat, path or room."Say, Mike," said James Turner, "what's your line, anyway - shoe laces? I'm not buying anything. You better put an egg in your shoe and beat it before incidents occur to you. You can't work off any fountain pens, gold spectacles you found on the street, or trust company certificate house clearings on me. Say, do I look like I'd climbed down one of them missing fire-escapes at Helicon Hall? What's vitiating you, anyhow?""Son," said the caliph, in his most Harunish tones, "as I said, I'm worth $40,000,000. I don't want to have it all put in my coffin when I die. I want to do some good with it. I seen you handling over these here volumes of literature, and I thought I'd keep you. I've give the missionary societies $2,000,000, but what did I get out of it? Nothing but a receipt from the secretary. Now, you are just the kind of young man I'd like to take up and see what money could make of him."Volumes of Clark Russell were hard to find that evening at the Old Book Shop. And James Turner's smarting and aching feet did not tend to improve his temper. Humble hat cleaner though he was, he had a spirit equal to any caliph's."Say, you old faker," he said, angrily, "be on your way. I don't know what your game is, unless you want change for a bogus $40,000,000 bill. Well, I don't carry that much around with me. But I do carry a pretty fair left-handed punch that you'll get if you don't move on.""You are a blamed impudent little gutter pup," said the caliph.Then James delivered his self-praised punch; old Tom seized him by the collar and kicked him thrice; the hat cleaner rallied and clinched; two bookstands were overturned, and the books sent flying. A copy came up, took an arm of each, and marched them to the nearest station house. "Fighting and disorderly conduct," said the cop to the sergeant."Three hundred dollars bail," said the sergeant at once, asseveratingly and inquiringly."Sixty-three cents," said James Turner with a harsh laugh.The caliph searched his pockets and collected small bills and change amounting to four dollars."I am worth," he said, "forty million dollars, but -""Lock 'em up," ordered the sergeant.In his cell, James Turner laid himself on his cot, ruminating. "Maybe he's got the money, and maybe he ain't. But if he has or he ain't, what does he want to go 'round butting into other folks's business for? When a man knows what he wants, and can get it, it's the same as $40,000,000 to him."Then an idea came to him that brought a pleased look to his face.He removed his socks, drew his cot close to the door, stretched himself out luxuriously, and placed his tortured feet against the cold bars of the cell door. Something hard and bulky under the blankets of his cot gave one shoulder discomfort. He reached under, and drew out a paper-covered volume by Clark Russell called "A Sailor's Sweetheart." He gave a great sigh of contentment.Presently, to his cell came the doorman and said:"Say, kid, that old gazabo that was pinched with you for scrapping seems to have been the goods after all. He 'phoned to his friends, and he's out at the desk now with a roll of yellowbacks as big as a Pullman car pillow. He wants to bail you, and for you to come out and see him.""Tell him I ain't in," said James Turner.