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 when he seen her, but she was a world beater at hide-an-go-seek and always managed to nail him. When Eva asked him what he thought about Kid Roberts, "a common prize fighter," comin' to the inn, the Kid merely smiled and says he ain't enthused, as he dislikes boxin' exceedin'ly much. This made a big hii with Eva, which seemed to look on leather pushers like she'd look on lepers. How the so ever, the college boys, not knowin' the reason for the "poet's" lack of interest in Kid Roberts's arrival, begin openly sneerin' at the alleged rimester and speakin' of him—one of the greatest scrappers which ever laced on a glove—as a mollycoddle. What a scream that was, hey? Jim Barnaby was nastier than the rest of 'em, behind the "poet's" back. That a apparent weak sister had accumulated his girl got the husky football star positively red-headed!

One mornin' after breakfast Kid Roberts and Ptomaine is playin' pinochle in the room and I'm readin' the paper—my favorite book—when a flock of wild cheers disturbs my well-shaped ears. I look out the window and right at the entrance to the inn is a tall, broad-shouldered stranger surrounded by the college girls and boys. The handsome city chap is grinnin' and doffin' his cap to a reception which would of wrung a smile from Cæsar, which they tell me was ravenous when it come to applause.

Well, I thought to myself that medico certainly put over a fast one on us when he sent us up to this hotel, sayin' it would be as empty as a political pledge. As a matter of fact, it was turnin' out to be