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 mountains. 'At doc was nice enough to put the bee on you for a hundred bucks, so the least we can do in return is to folley out his plans. Besides, I know how we can go up there without nobody findin' out who we really are. I just this minute got the idea!"

"If you can prove you ever had a idea in your life, Silly," I sneers, "I can prove I'm the rightful heir to the Siamese throne!"

"People which lives in tin houses shouldn't throw can openers," says Ptomaine. "I don't think you're no master mind yourself!"

Kid Roberts interferes to stop bloodshed and violence.

"What is your idea that will prevent us from being recognized, Ptomaine?" he smiles. For some unknown reason the Kid gets a great kick out of this dizzy banana.

"Why, we can all go up there disguised as somethin' else!" says Ptomaine. "For the example, you make out you're a—a—well, a pote; Joe Murphy can claim he writes, now, plays; and I'll be a artist, get me? There's three things as different from what we are as boardin'-house hash is different from food! We can all act up to these disguises and nobody will get hep 'at we even seen a box fight, let alone been in one. Ain't 'at a rip of a plant?"

Ptomaine has stopped so many right swings with his bullet head that it's made him a little goofy. He don't know what it's all about, what I mean.

"Get back in line, Stupid!" I says. "Where d'ye get that disguise stuff? So you'll pretend you're a