twenty-four I'll be
outa the country. I'll take ship--"

"And continue to be a menace to the public health wherever you are,"
Doctor Masters broke in, already visioning a column in the evening
papers, with scare-heads, in which he would appear the hero, the St.
George of San Francisco standing with poised lance between the people and
the dragon of leprosy.

"Take them away," said Waiter Merritt Emory, avoiding looking Daughtry in
the eyes.

"Ready! March!" commanded the sergeant.

The two policemen advanced on Daughtry and Kwaque with extended clubs.

"Keep away, an' keep movin'," one of the policemen growled fiercely. "An'
do what we say, or get your head cracked. Out you go, now. Out the door
with you. Better tell that coon to stick right alongside you."

"Doc., won't you let me talk a moment?" Daughtry begged of Emory.

"The time for talking is past," was the reply. "This is the time for
segregation.--Doctor Masters, don't forget that ambulance when you're
quit of the load."

So the procession, led by the board-of-heath doctor and the sergeant, and
brought up in the rear by the policemen with their protectively extended
clubs, started through the doorway.

Whirling about on the threshold, at the imminent risk of having his skull
cracked, Dag Daughtry called back:

"Doc! My dog! You know 'm."

"I'll get him for you," Doctor Emory consented quickly. "What's the
address?"

"Room eight-seven, Clay street, the Bowhead Lodging House, you know the
place, entrance just around the corner from the Bowhead Saloon. Have 'm
sent out to me wherever they put me--will you?"

"Certainly I will," said Doctor Emory, "and you've got a cockatoo, too?"

"You bet, Cocky! Send 'm both along, please, sir."

* * * * *

"My!" said Miss Judson, that evening, at dinner with a certain young
interne of St. Joseph's Hospital. "That Doctor Emory is a wizard. No
wonder he's successful. Think of it! Two filthy lepers in our office to-
day! One was a coon. And he knew what was the matter the moment he laid
eyes on them. He's a caution. When I tell you what he did to them with
his cigar! And he was cute about it! He gave me the wink first. And
they never dreamed what he was doing. He took his cigar and . . . "

CHAPTER XX

The dog, like the horse, abases the base. Being base, Waiter Merritt
Emory was abased by his desire for the possession of Michael. Had there
been no Michael, his conduct would