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 guy over in the village which sells hooch at three bucks the quart. Lay off it! I knocked over a vial of it this mornin' and from now on I'm aboard the sprinkler. Warm puppy! Talk about bein' potent—'at stuff eat all the gold fillin's out of my fangs!"

"See if I care!" I growls. "I don't want to hear nothin' about your adventures, Tomato, but if you bring any more moon into this camp I'll run you ragged and make you love it! Where's the Kid?"

"Oh, he's acin' around somewheres," answers this scofflaw, carelessly. "He claimed he was goin' fishin', but I think he must be teachin' some of them young trouts how to swim, I ain't cast a eye on him since daybreak!"

"Get in that kitchen and ham and egg me!" I says, and added, "make that two!" as Kid Roberts breezed into sight.

But Kid Roberts had a million rainbows on the end of his string and the ham and eggs was out. Wam! Them fishes went down elegant with slices of crisp bacon on top of 'em—which only goes to show that the fish is a very useful animal, indeed.

The very next day, Jack Haines, a good boy and one of the Kid's ablest sparrin' partners, accidentally butted Kid Roberts and reopened a old cut over the eye which had caused us trouble for years. So I took him to a medico in town. Ptomaine went with us, as he'll never let Kid Roberts out of his sight.

In the doctor's office, Ptomaine met his Fate again for the three thousandth time. This panic was a big blonde—a easy to witness, strappin', Swedish nurse