how glad he was to get track of
Pinckney again and how he must come down right away. Oh, they wanted
Pinckney bad! It was like the tap of the bell for a twenty-round go with
the referee missin'. Seems that Mrs. Jerry Toynbee was tryin' to pull
off one of those back-yard affairs that win newspaper space--some kind
of a fool amateur circus--and they'd got to have Pinckney there to
manage it or the thing would fush. As for the elephant-trainer, he'd
forgot that.

"By Jove!" says Pinckney, real sassy like.

"That's drawin' it mild," says I. "Would you like the loan of a few
able-bodied cuss-words?"

"But I have an idea," says Pinckney.

"Handcuff it," says I; "it's a case of breakin' and enterin'."

But he didn't have so much loft-room to let, after all. His first move
was to hunt up a railroad station and charter a box-car. We carpets it
with hay, has a man knock together a couple of high bunks in one end,
and throws in some new horse-blankets.

"Now," says Pinckney, "you and I and Rajah will start for Newport on the
night freight."

"Have you asked Rajah?" says I.

But Rajah knew all about riding in box-cars. He walked up the plank
after us just like we was a pair of Noahs. Goggles was sent off over the
road with the cart, all by his lonesome.

I've traveled a good deal with real sports, and once I came back from
St. Louis with the delegates to a national convention, but this was my
first trip in an animal car. It wasn't so bad, though, and it was all
over by daylight next morning. There wasn't anyone in sight but milkmen
and bakers' boys as we drove down Bellevue-ave., with Rajah grippin' the
rear axle of our cab. I don't know how he felt about buttin' into
Newport society at that time of day, but I looked for a cop to pinch us
as second-story men.

We fetches up at the swellest kind of a ranch you ever saw, iron gates
to it like a storage warehouse, and behind that trees and bushes and
lawn, like a slice out of Central Park. Pinckney wakes up the
lodge-keeper and after he lets down the bars we pikes around to the
stable. It looked more like an Episcopal church than a stable, and we
didn't find any horses inside, anyway, only seven different kinds of
gasoline carts. The stable-hands all seemed to know Pinckney and to be
proud of it, but they shied some at Rajah and me.

"This is part of a little affair I'm managing for Mrs. Toynbee," says
Pinckney. "Professor McCabe and Rajah will stay here for a day or tw