"Don't say the coffee is going to poison him," burst out Tom. "I was
reading about poison getting into the coffee at this hotel last week.
But, of course--"

"Did da got poison py der coffee in here?" demanded Hans.

"To be sure, put--"

"How vos dot poisoned coffee taste annahow?"

"I'm sure I don't know."

"I think it was a little salty," came from Fred Garrison.

"Mine cracious me! Of dot's so I vos poisoned, sure. Run for der toctor
kvick!"

"Here, eat some jam, Hans. That will counteract the effect of
the poison," said Tom, and handed over a small dish with jam in it,
over which he had just sprinkled the pepper with an exceedingly liberal
hand.

Anxious to do anything that would stop him from being poisoned, the
German boy clutched the dish and took a large spoonful of the jam. But
as he gulped it, he gave a gasp, and the tears started down his cheeks.

"_Du meine zeit!_" he bawled. "I vos purnt up alife by mine mouth
alretty! Dake it avay kvick!" And jumping up from the table he began to
dance around madly.