"Stall!"--the word came away in a roar too genuine to leave any doubt of
the Flopper's sincerity, or the turbulent state of the Flopper's soul.
"Stall nothin'! De driver held me up fer some of it, an' de cop pinched
de rest."

"And you the king of Floppers!" breathed Pale Face Harry sadly. "D'ye
hear that, Helena? Come over here and listen. Go ahead, Flopper, tell us
about it."

Helena rose from the couch and came over to the table.

"Poor Flopper!" said she sweetly.

"Shut up!" snapped the Flopper savagely.

"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper--tell us about it."

"I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy
wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell--an' wot he left de cop pinched.
Dat's all"--the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that
burned within him.

Pale Face Harry, with pointed forefinger, gingerly and facetiously laid
the coins out in a row on the table.

"And you the king of Floppers!" he murmured softly. "It's a wonder you
didn't let the Salvation Army get the rest away from you on the way
along!"

Helena laughed--but the Flopper didn't. He stepped close to Pale Face