And all the way down to his hotel he holds that vivid neck tint.

"Well," says Old Hickory, as I drifts back to the office, "did you and
the Lieutenant discover any serious plot of international character?"

"Sure thing!" says I. "We found a contraband Irish pig in Herman Bauer's
back yard.

"Wha-a-at?" he demands.

"If the pig had been a bomb, and its tail a time-fuse," says I, "it would
have wrecked our main works. As it, is, we've had a narrow escape. But
I don't think Cecil will bother us any more. He's too good for the army,
anyway. He ought to be writin' for the movies."




CHAPTER III

TORCHY HANDS OUT A SPILL

Maybe I've indulged, now and then, in a few remarks on Auntie. But,
say, there's no danger of exhaustin' the subject--not a chance. For
she's some complicated old girl, take it from me. First off, there's
that stick-around disposition of hers. Now, I expect that just
naturally grew on her, same as my pink thatch did on me. She can't
help it; and what's the use blamin' her for it?

So, when I drop in for my reg'lar Wednesday and Sunday night calls, the