ssary
suffering on any one. Perhaps the application of hot water would be
painful. And doubtless the odor of the liniment would evaporate in an
hour or two.

"Never mind about the bath," he remitted as he began to gather up his
papers in preparation for going back to his office.

As he went down the front steps a few moments later, Mr. Cane narrowly
missed being run down by a youth who came bursting round the corner of
the house in pursuit of a fleeing cat; and recognizing the fleet-footed
pursuer as the erstwhile cripple, he scowled at the deception that had
been practiced on him. Then he was struck with humor of the situation,
and smiled in spite of himself.

"Miraculous liniment," he chuckled as he started down the street; "but
I'm mighty glad the bottle's been broken."

CHAPTER II

ASTONISHING RESULTS

Contrary to Mr. Cane's expectations the odor of the liniment had not
evaporated when he came home for the evening meal. It seemed to be
stronger than ever, although Sube truthfully insisted that he had not
put any more on his injured leg since the first application.

An immediate bath was prescribed, and duly administered, and Sube sat
down at the table spotless and germless--but far from odorless. He
smelled, it seemed to his family, even worse than before. And in spite
of the various heroic processes of deodorization and fumigation through
which he was put during the ensuing days, he invariably emerged
smiling--and smelling.

The long strain began to tell on Mr. Cane. He became more nervous and
irritable than ever, and seemed constantly to wear a look of nasal
suspicion. Sube's treatment was in only its third day when his father
began to eat his lunch down town. The next day he failed to come home to
dinner; and thereafter during the rest of the fateful week he ate no
meals at home with the exception of breakfast, and that he managed to
get before the other members of the family were out of bed.

As the week of germination drew towards a close the boys became
restless. "We ought to begin to do some'pm," Sube suggested as he sat
rubbing the Boon into the pores of his long-suffering upper lip. "My
week will be up to-morrow morning at five minutes of ten, and yours will
be up at about quarter after."

"I'll bet mine'll be up before quarter after," predicted Gizzard
enthusiastically. "I'll bet I have my whiskers by ten minutes after.
Gee, but I'll be glad when I don't have to use this ol' Boon any l