pocketbooks in our shoes.

"Here's a good one," Dave suggested; "listen to this 'Easy Money'
out of 'Life Insurance' by 'Director.' And here's a good one,
'Chauffeur' out of 'Automobile' by 'Policeman!' Do you care for
those?"

There were tears in Bunch's eyes, but I was busy looking for a rock.

"Here are some more peacherinos," Dave went on, relentlessly, "here
is 'Golf Player' out of 'Business' by 'Mosquito,' and here's
another good one, 'Eternal Daylights' out of 'Russia' by
'Japan'--like 'em?"

Bunch and I handed Dave the reproachful face and fled for our lives.

Then we got down to business and began to lose our money with more
system and less noise.

At the end of the fifth race we hadn't the price of a leather
sandwich between us.

Every dog we had mentioned to the Bookies proved to be a false
alarm.

Every turtle we plunged on carried our money to the bonfire and
dumped it in.

"My little black man is whimpering, Bunch," I said. "I'm cured."