n Ness lookin' down at us and frownin'. He reaches inside that Roman
toga thing he's wearin' and comes out with a round piece of glass which
he balances on one eye.

"Ah--I say!" he pipes, glarin' at the Kid. "This is getting jolly
annoying, my man. It appears that every time we meet, you have just
committed a murderous assault upon my dresser! Since you are
the--ah--champion fighter of the universe, why do you not joust with
more of its inhabitants and not center your activities upon one who
knows nothing of the art of self-defense?"

The Kid grunts, takin' away Tony's guns and removin' a couple of them
long banana knives from his clothes. Meanwhile, the daredevil dresser
is showin' no more signs of life than a sleepin' alligator, so I
figured it was about time to pull a little first aid stuff. I turned
him over on his back and took off his coat, grabbin' it by the bottom
and holdin' it up. They was a sudden crash and--Sweet Cookie! A lot
of things fell on the ground, among 'em bein' one set of brass
knuckles, one blackjack, two more guns, a thing that looked like a
bayonet, five boxes of cartridges, a small bottle of nitro-glycerine
and three sticks of dynamite! The last two fell in the folds of the
coat, or we'd all have gone away from there. Tony's master looks at
the layout with his eyes stickin' so far out of his head you could have
knocked 'em off with a cane.

Scanlan eyes him and laughs.

"This is the bird which don't know nothin' about self-defense, eh?" he
grins, pointin' to Tony. "Well, if he'd been in Belgium a few years
ago, I bet the Germans would never have got through!"

"Oh, I say!" gasps Van Ness. "This is a bit of a shock! Why the
fellow is a walking arsenal!"

"He's more like a sleepin' fort, now!" I says, pointin' to Tony on the
turf.

"Look at the chances you been takin' havin' a guy like that fasten your
garters and so forth," pipes Scanlan. "You ought to thank us for
exposin' him!"

Then Tony comes to life and havin' helped him down, the Kid helps him
up.

"_Sapristi_!" remarks Tony, glarin' at him. "You bigga stiffa!
Sometime Tony he'sa feexa you for dis! Whata you hitta me with?"

"I think it was a left hook," the Kid tells him, rubbin' his chin, like
he ain't sure.

"Aha!" snarls Tony. "I know you never hit with your feest sooch a
punch! Don't got funny with me any more! I wanna tella you, you keepa
up knock it down Tony every fiva, tena, fifteen minootes and