cious characters will be noted by the constabulary of West
Dempster within two hours!" cried Hood, hopping out of his dress
trousers. "Into the calaboose we shall go, my dear Tuck! Never say that I
haven't a thought for your peace and happiness. It will give me joy
unfeigned to bring you face to face with your delightful parent.
Cassowary, my son, I'm going to hide those bills of yours in the lining
of my coat for safety. If they found ten thousand plunks on me, they'd
never let us go!"

"Hood!" cried Deering in a voice moist with tears, "for God's sake what
fool thing are you up to now?"

"I tell you we're going to jail!" Hood answered jubilantly. "You've dined
in good company with the most charming of girls at your side; you've had
a taste of the prosperous life; and now it's fitting that we should touch
the other extreme. The moment we step out of this shack we're criminals,
crooks, gallows meat;" he rolled this last term under his tongue
unctuously. "This will top all our other adventures. Here's hoping
Fogarty may have preceded us. The old boy likes to get pinched
occasionally just for the fun of it."

He was already blowing out the candles, and, seizing his stick, led the
way back to the highway, with Deering and Cassowary at his heels. The car
had been run into an old barn, which had evidently served Hood before.
Within twenty-four hours they would be touring again, he announced. The
change from his dress clothes to ill-fitting rags had evidently wrought a
change of mood. Between whiffs at his pipe he sought consolation in
Wagner, chanting bars of "In _fernem_ Land."

Cassowary, who had adjusted himself to this new situation without
question, whispered in Deering's ear: "Don't kick; he's got something up
his sleeve. And he'll get you out of it; remember that! I've been in jail
with him before."

Deering drew away impatiently. He was in no humor to welcome confidences
from Torrence, _alias_ Cassowary, whom his sister met clandestinely and
_kissed_--the kiss rankled! And yet it was nothing against Cassowary that
he had been following Hood about like an infatuated fool. Deering knew
himself to be equally culpable on that score, and he was even now
trudging after the hypnotic vagabond with a country calaboose as their
common goal. The chauffeur's interview with Constance had evidently
cheered him mightily, and he joined his voice to Hood's in a very fair
rendering of "Ben Bolt." Deering swore under his breath, a