t way. He says we've done him a lot of
good, and lost our valuable time, and he'll feel hurt if we don't let
him make us a little present. With that he pries open a fat leather
green goods case, paws over a layer of yellow backs two or three inches
thick--and fishes out a couple of ten spots.

"Stung!" says Leonidas, under his breath.

"Homer," says I, shovin' 'em back at him, "if you're as grateful as all
that, I'll tell you what you'd better do--keep these, and found a Home
for Incurable Tight-wads."

Then we loses him in the crowd, and each of us strikes out for himself.
Blessed if I know where Leonidas strayed to, but I'm dead sure of the
place I fetched up at. It was It'ly, North It'ly. Ever been there? Well,
don't. Nothin' but dagoes and garlic and roads that run up hill. Say,
some day when my roll needs the anti-fat treatment, I'm goin' to send
over there and have 'em put a monument that'll read: "Here's where
Shorty McCabe was buried alive for five weeks."

Doing? Wasn't a blamed thing doing there. We were just assassinatin'
time, that's all. But the Boss thought he liked it, for a while, so I
had to hang on. The Boss? Oh, he's just the Boss. Guess you wouldn't
know him--he hasn't been cured by three bottles of anything, and isn't
much for buyin' billboard space. But he's a star all right. He's got a
mint somewhere, a little private mint of his own, that runs days and
nights and overtime. Scotty mine? No, better'n that--defunct
grandmothers and such. It's been comin' his way ever since he was big
enough to clip a coupon. Don't believe he knows how much he _has_ got,
but that don't worry him. He don't even try to spend the gate receipts;
just uses what he wants and lets the rest pyramid.

Course, he's out of my class in a way; but then again, he ain't. The way
we come to hook up was like this: You see, when I quits Homer, I takes
the first thing that comes along, which happens to be the Jericho Lamb.
He wants me to train him for his go with Grasshopper Jake, and I did.

Well, we pulls it off in Denver. The Lamb he bores in like a stone
crusher for five rounds. Then he stops a cross hook with his jaw and is
jarred some. That brings out the yellow. Spite of all I could say, he
stops rushin' and plays for wind and safety. Think of that, with the
Grasshopper as groggy as a five days old calf! Well, I saw what was
coming to _him_, right there. When the bell rings I chucks my towel to a
rubber and quits. I hadn't