of the place. The dudes every few moments would break through the crowd and go to the bar, and upon their return they would push through to the front, shoving others aside as though the balance of the beholders were mere serfs; and in pushing through upon one of their returns, Ike became their victim. The young ventriloquist did not submit to be pushed so rudely and said:

"See here, Mister Man, you should wear better clothes. You are such a pusher you should have gotten ahead in the world."

The youth stared and the bystanders laughed. The joke was a good one. Many times it could be applied in a crowd, for there are so many rude people who appear to think there is no one in the world besides themselves.

"Don't you like it?" demanded the pusher.

"Oh, yes, I like it," answered Ike with a laugh. "It's quite an honor to be knocked around by a thing like you."

"I'll punch you in the head if you say much."

"Oh, I won't say much. I'll be as quiet as a lamb. I won't even bleat. It's all right; excuse me for being in your way. I am proud—very proud—to be knocked aside, certainly."

At that moment there came a voice asking:

"Why don't you rap that dude on the head?"

The dude looked around to learn who had offered the bold suggestion, and then demanded:

"Who spoke then?"

"I did," came a voice, but no one appeared to know just who the "I did" was. But there came the suggestion:

"Don't look so fierce. You're around to swipe pocketbooks, you are. I advise these gentlemen to be on the lookout."

The three dudes all closed in close to each other. Their faces were white with rage and they had just liquor enough in them to be anxious for a brawl, and one of them said:

"I'll give a hundred dollars to know who spoke."

"What will you give?" came the voice.

Ike stood still and apparently as mute as a sexton at a funeral.

"You haven't got a hundred cents; you just hung your last drink at the bar."

"You're a liar," came the declaration from one of the dudes.

"And you're a thief, or let's see your money."

The dude went down in his pockets, drew forth a roll and exclaimed, as he waved it aloft:

"Here's my money. A hundred to ten you are a liar, and a hundred to one you dare not show your face."

"Here I am."

The voice sounded as though the speaker stood directly in the midst of the trio of dudes. The "chappies" looked at each other in amazement.

"Send for an officer," came a voice. "I've lost my pocketbook."

It appeared as though the voice came from the opposite side of the crowd to where the dudes were standing.

The dudes were dumfounded; indeed, the game was stopped and the owner of the billiard hall walked over to learn what the row was. Very well, at this point the row commenced. One of the youths, calling the proprietor of the hall by name, said, or seemed to say:

"You go away from here, you duffer. We own this place and don't want any of your interference."

The declaration took the proprietor's breath away for a moment. He just stood and gazed, when another of the youths appeared to say:

"Charley, why don't you smash Decker in the jaw? What business has he to come around here and interfere with our fun?"

"Who are you talking to?" demanded the proprietor, his face white with rage.

"You," seemingly came the answer from the dude.

The proprietor could stand no more. He made a rush. He did not care at that instant if the dudes were the scions of the governor of the state. He grasped the chap who it appeared had given him the insolence by the loose part of his trousers and the collar of his coat, and he walked him French fashion toward the door. The youth made a vigorous protest. His friends also joined in, when the bartender rushed from behind the counter and seized another of the "chappies," and a guest who was a vigorous fellow seized the third one; and then commenced a grand march toward the street door, and each one of the dudes was thrown into the street and a kick was administered to each as he was thrust out. Poor dudes! they had not been guilty of the particular sin for which they suffered, but they deserved all they got, just the same, for they had made nuisances of themselves.

Jack and Ike left the place. They were delighted with the rebuke they had administered, but the fun was not over. The three dudes were standing at the corner of the street talking over their grievances. They espied Ike and Jack and one of them said:

"There are the fellows who drew us into this trouble."

"Let's hammer them."

Neither Ike nor Jack were formidable-looking chaps, and the dudes sailed for them. Well, a lively scene followed. The two ventriloquists were both lithe, active athletes, and the way they polished off the "chappies" was a sight to behold, and they were having a heap of fun when suddenly both were seized by the collars of their coats and found themselves in the grasp of two stalwart policemen.

Neither lad was scared. They did not mind their arrest on such a trivial charge at all, and they were led off. Ike asked by signal:

"What shall we do?"

"What do you think?" came the answer.

"Shall we be locked up and raise old Cain in the station house, or shall we make these officers dance right here?"

"Let's make them dance," came the answer.

The lads struck a good chance even as the word was passed. They were passing a tenement house and a man had just raised a window to close the shutters or something, when there came as though from the man a mad cry of "fire!" The officers stopped short, and again there came several cries, seemingly from different parts of the house. The officers let go their hold upon their prisoners. A fire in a tenement house was a far more serious matter than the arrest of two youths for fighting in the street. As stated, the lads were released, and they darted away to secure hiding places from which they could witness the fun and excitement, and there was excitement. One of the officers rapped for assistance and the second one ran to the fire-alarm box to give the signal, and officer number one made a rush to the house. He found the door open and he ran up the stairs shouting "fire! fire! fire!" The tenants rushed from their apartments and there followed a scene of wild confusion, and while the yelling and screaming were at their height two engines arrived, also a platoon of police, and the firemen of the engine company entered the house, but still there was no sign of either fire or smoke. A thorough examination followed. No signs of a fire could be discovered. The sergeant in charge of the platoon of police asked the two officers who had given the alarm where they had seen the fire. They protested they had not seen any fire, but that a man had raised the window of one of the front rooms and had shouted "fire!" The firemen meantime were thoroughly convinced that there was no fire, and they were mad at being called out on a fake alarm. They commenced to abuse the police, who protested that the cry had come from the house. The tenants had all returned to their rooms and they also had been loud in their protests and threatened to make a complaint at headquarters.

"From what room did the cry come?" asked the sergeant.

The two policemen pointed out the room. The sergeant, accompanied by the two officers, went up to the room. There were several very respectable men in the room and they all protested that they had given no alarm. All declared that they were prepared to swear that they had not. The sergeant was bothered, and said to the two patrolmen:

"This matter must be explained."

"We did hear a cry of