The policemen tried to explain, but Inspector Mugg would not listen; and while they were still disputing in rushed Mr. Floman, the owner of the department store. “I want a dozen detectives, at once, inspector!” he cried. “What for?” demanded Mugg. “One of the wax ladies has escaped from my store and eloped with a $19.98 costume, a $4.23 hat, a $2.19 parasol and a 76-cent pair of gloves, and I want her arrested!” While he paused for breath the inspector glared at him in amazement. “Is everybody going crazy at the same time?” he inquired, sarcastically. “How could a wax dummy run away?” “I don’t know; but she did. When my janitor opened the door this morning he saw her run out.” “Why didn’t he stop her?” asked Mugg. “He was too frightened. But she’s stolen my property, your honor, and I want her arrested!” declared the storekeeper. The inspector thought for a moment. “You wouldn’t be able to prosecute her,” he said, “for there’s no law against dummies stealing.” Mr. Floman sighed bitterly. “Am I to lose that $19.98 costume and the $4.25 hat and—” “By no means,” interrupted Inspector Mugg. “The police of this city are ever prompt to act in defense of our worthy citizens. We have already arrested the wax lady, and she is locked up in cell No. 16. You may go there and recover your property, if you wish, but before you prosecute her for stealing you’d better hunt up a law that applies to dummies.” “All I want,” said Mr. Floman, “is that $19.98 costume and—” “Come along!” interrupted the policeman. “I’ll take you to the cell.” But when they entered No. 16 they found only a lifeless dummy lying prone upon the floor. Its wax was cracked and blistered, its head was badly damaged, and the bargain costume was dusty, soiled and much bedraggled. For the mischief-loving Tanko-Mankie had flown by and breathed once more upon the poor wax lady, and in that instant her brief life ended. “It’s just as I thought,” said Inspector Mugg, leaning back in his chair contentedly. “I knew all the time the thing was a fake. It seems sometimes as though the whole world would go crazy if there wasn’t some level-headed man around to bring ’em to their senses. Dummies are wood an’ wax, an’ that’s all there is of ’em.” “That may be the rule,” whispered the policeman to himself, “but this one were a dummy as lived!” THE KING OF THE POLAR BEARS The King of the Polar Bears lived among the icebergs in the far north country. He was old and monstrous big; he was wise and friendly to all who knew him. His body was thickly covered with long, white hair that glistened like silver under the rays of the midnight sun. His claws were strong and sharp, that he might walk safely over the smooth ice or grasp and tear the fishes and seals upon which he fed. The seals were afraid when he drew near, and tried to avoid him; but the gulls, both white and gray, loved him because he left the remnants of his feasts for them to devour.