YOUSE can soak your super,” said Chucky, “some dubs has luck! I've seen marks who could fall into d' sewer, see! an' come out wit' a bunch of lilacs in each mit.

“Nit; it wasn't all luck wit' Joe Dubuque. His breakin' out of hock that time is some luck, but mostly 'cause Joe himself is a dead wise guy an* onto his job. Tell youse about it? In a secont—in a hully second! Just say 'gin fizz!' to d' barkeep an' I'll begin.

“Never mind d' preeliminaries, as d' story writers says, but Joe's in jail, see! Joe win out ten spaces for touchin' a farmer for his bundle. Was it a wad? D' roll Joe gets is big enough to choke a cow—'leven t'ousand plunks, if it's a splinter.

“Wherefore, as I relates, Joe gets ten years, an' is layin' in jail while d' gezebo, who's his lawyer, sees can he woik d' high court to give Joe a new trial.

“Joe don't feel no sort chirpy; he's onto it d' high court's dead sure to t'run him down. Then he goes to d' pen to do them ten spaces. An' onct there, wit' all that time ahead, he sees his finish all right, all right. He might as well be a lifer.

“So Joe puts it up he'll break himself out. Joe's goil comes every day to see him. Say! she's a bute, Joe's Rag is; d' crooks calls her 'Wild Willie,' 'cause now an' then she toins dopey an' acts like she's got doves in her eaves. But anyhow she's on d' square wit' Joe, an' sticks to him like a postage stamp.

“Joe sends out d' woid be his Rag about what he's goin' to do, to d' push outside; an' tells 'em how to help. Yes; d' job is put up as fine as silk. Every mark knows what he's to do.

“Now, here's d' trick dey toins; here's how Joe beats d' jail for good.

“It comes round to d' night. Joe's cell—it's a big cell, a reg'lar corker, wit' gas into it—is on d' fort' corridor. D' guard comes round at 9 o'clock orderin' out d'lights. Joe's gas is boinin' away to beat d' band, an' Joe is lay in' on his bunk.

“'Dowse d' glim, Joe!' says d' guard.

“What th' 'ell!' says Joe. 'Dowse d' glim, yourself, you Sheeny hobo!'

“D' guard makes a bluff about what he'll do, an' cusses Joe out. All d' same he unlocks d' door an' comes chasin' in to put out Joe's gas.

“Now, what does Joe do? As d' guard toins to d' gas to dowse it, Joe sets up on his bunk, an' all at onct he soaks this gezebo of a guard wit' a rubber billy his Moll sneaks in to him d' day before. Does he land d' sucker? Say! he almost cracks his nut, an' that's for fair!

“D' guard drops an' in a minute Joe winds him all up tight in a bedtick rope he's made. Then he stoppers his jaw an' t'rows d' mucker on d' bunk, takes his keys, locks him in d' cell an' goes galumpin' off to let himself t'rough d' doors, so he can try a sprint for it. Yes, Joe makes some row when he t'umps this party, but d' captiffs in d' nex' cells hears d' racket an' half tumbles to it; an' so dey starts singin' 'Rock of Ages,' an' makes a noise so as to cover Joe's play, see! Oh! dey was some fly guys locked up in that old coop.

“As Joe lines out for d' doors, he's t'inkin' to himself, how on eart' is he goin' to make it? Nit; it wouldn't be no trouble to get outside d' doors of what youse might call d' jail proper. But after that, Joe's got to go t'rough four offices wit' a mob of dep'ties into 'em. An' he's on it's goin' to be a squeak if some of 'em don't recognize him. Joe's mug was well known.

“You know how dey woiks d' doors to a jail? Youse don't? It's this way. Joe, when he comes up, has d' key to d' inside door, which he nips off d' guard as I says when he slugs him wit 'd' billy. Joe lets himself into d' cage wit' that.

“Now, d' key to d' outside door ain't in d' coop at all. There's an old stiff of a dep'ty sheriff planted outside wit' that. As Joe opens d' inside door, he raps on d' bars of d' cage wit' his key, an' it's d' tip for this outside snoozer to unlock his door. Of course he plays Joe for d' guard coinin' out from his rounds.

“It's at this door-slammin' pinch where Joe's luck comes in, an' relieves him of d' chanct of d' gang of dep'ties in d' office tumblin' to him. Just as Joe raps to d' sucker on d' outside door, an' then lets himself into d' cage, a gun goes off inside d' jail. It's Joe's guard. Joe forgets to pinch d' pop, see! an' this gezebo gets his hooks onto it, all tied like he is, an' bangs away wit' it in his pockets so as to warn d' gang Joe's loose.

“'That does me for fair!' t'inks Joe when he hears d' gun; ''dey gets me dead to rights!'

“Say! it was d' one trick that saves him! At d' bang of d' gun every dep'ty leaps to his trilbys an' comes chasin'. D' outside mark has just unslewed his door. He flings it wide open an' scoots inside d' cage. Joe t'rows d' inside door open—for Joe's dead swift to take a hunch that way—an 'd' outside guard an 'd' entire bunch of dep'ties goes sprintin' into d' jail. Then Joe locks 'em all in an' loafs t'rough d' offices into d' street.

“Yes; Joe knows where he's goin'. He toins into d' foist stairway an' climbs one story to a law office, which d' crooks outside has fixed to be open, waitin' for him. Nixie; d' law guy ain't in on d' play. A dip named Jim Butts comes an' touts this law sharp away, an' cons him into goin' out six miles to d' country to draw d' last will an' test'ment of a galoot he says is on d' croak, an' can't wait for mornin'. Yes, Butts has one of his mob faked up for sick, an' dey detains d' law guy four hours makin' d' will. This stall of Butts, who's doin' d' sick act, sets up between gasps an' gives away more'n twenty million dollars wort' of wealt'. This crook who's fakin' sick is on his uppers at d' time, an' don't really have d' price of beer; but to hear him make his will that night, you'd say he was d' richest ever; d' Astors was monkeys to him.

“As I states, Joe skips into this lawyer's office, d' same bein' open for d' poipose, an' one of d' 'fambly' holdin' it down. While Joe's in there he hears d' chase runnin' up an' down in d' street below d' window.

“Not for long, though. Fifteen minutes after Joe is outside d' jug, one of d' crooks calls up d' Central Office be telephone.

“'Who's talkin'?' asts d' captain at d' Central Office.

“'It's Doyle, lieutenant o' police, Fourt' Precinct,' says d' crook who's on d' wire. Me man on d' station house beat just reports Joe Dubuque drivin' west on Detroit street wit' a horse an' buggy. He was on d' dead run, lamin' loose to beat four of a kind. Send all d' men youse can spare.'

“An' that's what d' captain at d' Central Office does. In ten minutes every cop an' fly cop is on d' chase, a mile away from Joe, an' gettin' furder every secont, see!

“After a while it settles down all quiet an' dead about d' jail, an 'd' little old law office where Joe lies buried. He, an' d' crook who's waitin' for him, is chinnin' each other in whispers. All d' time Joe's got his lamps to d' window pipin' off d' other side of d' street. At last a cab drives up opposite d' law office an' stops. A w'ite han'kerchief shows flutterin' be d' window. It's Wild Willie who's inside.

“Joe's pal gets up an' goes down to d' street. All's clear an' he w'istles up to Joe. When he gets d' office Joe sort of loafs down an' saunters over to d' cab. D' door opens an' in one move Joe's inside, an' d' nex' his arm is 'round his Moll. She's all right, this Wild Willie is, an' Joe does d' correct t'ing to give her d' fervent squeeze.

“That's d' end. Joe Dubuque runs clear away, goes under cover, an' d' sheriff never gets his hooks on him ag'in. As Joe drives be d' jail he can still hear them captiffs singin' 'Rock of Ages.'

“'Say!' says Joe to Wild Willie as he toins her mug to his an' smacks her onct for luck, 'I won't do a t'ing but make it a t'ousand dollars in d' kecks of them ducks who's doin' that song. I'll woik d' dough to 'em be some of d' boys, see!'”