"First rate, with the exception of Hans here," said Tom. "He's got the
buckwheat measles."

"Yah, und Tom he's got der jipperjocker fefer," declared the German
boy, bound to do his best to get square.

"Good for Hans!" cried Sam. "Tom, after this, you have got to take
care, or Hansie will roast you."

"Oh, Hans is just all right," observed Tom, and when the German boy's
face was turned away he took the latter's coffee and put into it about
a teaspoonful of salt. "Tell you what, fellows, this coffee just
touches the spot," he added loudly.

"Right you are," said Fred Garrison. "Never tasted better in my life."

So far Hans had not touched the coffee, but hearing the words he took
up his cup and downed a deep draught. It may be added that he was a
German who loved coffee a good deal, and frequently drank several cups
at a meal.

For an instant the German youth said nothing. Then his face turned
pale.

"Dat coffee was no goot!" he gasped.

"Why, Hans," cried several.

"See how pale he is getting," came from George Granbury. "Hans, are you
going to die?