Eight Miles an Hour--No Tramps Allowed. I kind of
favors the sound of that name--Plentiful Valley. And as I remarks to the
Sweet Caps Kid, 'We ain't no autos and we ain't no tramps but merely two
professional men, looking for a chance to practise our profession.'

"This here is the first valley I ever see in the course of a long and
more or less polka-dotted career that it is all up-hill and never no
downhill. Be that as it may, we rambles on until it must be going on
towards nine forty-five o'clock, and comes to a neat bungalow on a green
slope inside of a high white fence. There's a venerable party setting on
the front porch, in his shirt-sleeves. He looks beneficent and well fed.

"'Pull down your vest, son-boy,' I says to Sweet Caps, 'and please
remember not to drink your coffee out of the sasser. I have a growing
conviction,' I says, 'that we are about to partake of refreshment.'

"'Hadn't we better sell this ancient guy a few Bermuda oats, or
something to start off with?' says he.

"'Not until after we have et,' I says; business before pleasure. And
anyway,' I says, 'I works best on a full stomach. Follow your dear
uncle,' I says, 'and don't do nothing till you hear from me.'

"With that I opens the gate and we meanders up a neat gravel path. As we
draws near, the venerable party takes his feet down off the railings.

"'Come in,' he says cordially, 'come right in and rest your face and
hands. You're out nice and early.'

"'Suffer us,' I says, 'to introduce ourselves. We are a couple of
prominent tourist-pedestrians walking from Noo Yawk to Portland, Oregon,
on a bet. This,' I says, pointing to Sweet Caps, 'is Young Twinkletoes,
and I am commonly knowed as old King Lightfoot the First. By an
unfortunate coincidence,' I says, 'we got separated at an early hour
from our provision wagon, as a result of which we have omitted breakfast
and feel the omission severely. If we might impose,' I says, 'upon your
good nature to the extent of--'

"'Don't mention it,' he says; 'take two or three chairs and set down,
and we'll talk it over. To tell you the truth,' he says, 'I was jest
setting here wishing somebody would come along and visit with me a
spell. I'm keeping bachelor's hall,' he says, 'and raising chickens on
the side, and sometimes I get a mite lonely. I guess maybe the Chink
might scare up something, although,' he says, 'to tell you the truth
there ain't hardly a bite in the house, except a couple of milk-fed