licked. Got shot an' tore an' slammed all over thet air deck, an'
could n't do no harm t' nobody. Jes luk a boss tied 'n the stall,
an' a lot o' men whalin' 'im, an' a lot more tryin' t' scare 'im t'
death."

"Wha' d' ye s'pose thet air thing's made uv?" he inquired after a
little silence.

"Silver," said I.

"Pure silver?"

"Undoubtedly," was my answer.

"Judas Priest!" said he, taking out his wallet again, to look at
the trophy. "Thet air mus' be wuth suthin'."

"More than a year's salary," said I.

He looked up at me with a sharp whistle of surprise.

"Ain' no great hand fer sech flummydiddles," said he, as he put the
medal away.

"It's a badge of honor," said I. "It shows you 're a brave man."

"Got 'nough on 'em," said D'ri. "This 'ere rip 'n the forehead's
'bout all the badge I need."

"It's from the emperor--the great Napoleon," I said. "It's a mark