wit of Julius served him in this emergency.

"Dat boy is crazy as a loon, boss!" he answered, readily. "We have to
keep him shut up for fear he'll kill some of us."

"You don't say!" ejaculated the young mechanic. "He don't look like
it."

"No, he don't; dat's a fact, boss. Fact is, dat boy is the artfullest
lunytick you ever seed. He tried to kill his mother last week."

"Is that true?"

"Dat's so, boss. And all de while he looks as innocent as a baby. If I
was to let him out he'd kill somebody, sure."

"I never would have believed it," said the young man.

"If you want to take the risk, boss, you might go up and see him. I
believe he's got a carvin'-knife about him, but I don't dare to go up
and get it away. It would be as much as this niggah's life is worth."

"No," answered the young man, hastily. "I don't want to see him. I
never did like crazy folks. I'm sorry I gave you the trouble to come
to the door."

"Oh, no trouble, boss."

"I guess I've fixed dat boy!" chuckled Julius. "Ho, ho! he can't get
ahead of old Julius! Crazy as a loon, ho, ho!"

Dodger waited anxiously for the young man to get through his
interview. He hoped that he would force his way up to the third floor,
draw the bolt, and release him from his imprisonment.

He kept watch at the window, and when the young man reappeared, he
looked at him eagerly. "Did you ask them to let me out?" he shouted.
The other looked up at him with an odd expression of suspicion and
repulsion.

"You're better off where you are," he said, rather impatiently.

"But they have locked me up here."

"And reason enough, too!"

"What makes you say that?"

"Because you're crazy as a loon."

"Did the black man say that?" inquired Dodger, indignantly.

"Yes, he did--said you tried to kill your mother, and had a
carving-knife hidden in the room."

"It's a lie--an outrageous lie!" exclaimed Dodger, his eyes flashing.

"Don't go into one of your tantrums," said the man, rather alarmed;
"it won't do any good."

"But I want you to understand that I am no more crazy than you are."

"Sho? I know better. Where's your carving-knife?"

"I haven't got any; I never had any. That negro has been telling you
lies. Just go to the door again, and insist on seeing me."

"I wouldn't dast to. You'd stab me," said the man, fearfully.

"Listen to me!" said Dodger, getting out of patience. "I'm not crazy.
I'm a newsboy and baggage-smasher. An old man got me to bring his