on so young a head." He placed one hand on
Lucien's shoulder, and covered his own eyes with the other. "Me
boy--m-boy," he murmured brokenly, "you're breaking my heart, my strong
manly heart what's held up this many a year--against who knows what.
Lucien, Lucien, you're burning the gas in both jets, to say nothing of
the escape in the middle. Leave me, boy--leave me to my grief."

Lucien brushed William's hand off his shoulder and blurted out angrily,
"You're crazy."

"Well, I'd sooner be crazy, if I am crazy, than be sane the way you
are," returned William loftily. "'Chuck' Epstein says everybody's got
a looney streaker some kind; else, he says, they'd all die young. It's
a tough outlook for you, Lucien," he added as he departed.

Ten minutes later William returned, bringing with him a fine bulldog
attached to a stout string. William's eyes were shining, and his lips
were parted in a wide grin of delight. "Say," he cried to Lucien, "get
on to the pup."

Lucien didn't like the looks of the dog, and backed hastily away.

"Aw gee, he won't eat you," said William disgustedly. "He's a good
one, a prize winner; and the cop says Briscombe the banker owns him."

"Well, what are you doing with him?"

"Me! The dog just nat-ur-ally adopted me, Lucien. I was standing
looking at the bulletins--and the Torontos is leadin', don't you forget
it--when I feels something rubbing at me leg, and here's his nibs
making up kinder friendly like. So I takes hold of the string and
hunts up a cop and tells him about it. And I says, 'He looks like a
good dog,' I says, 'I s'pose you can take him over to the station and
leave him till the owner's found.' And the cop says, 'Not for mine,'
he says, 'I ain't going off my beat to be a godfather to no dog. It
belongs to Mr. Bill Briscombe,' he says, 'and I'll bet he'll give you a
two spot if you take it to him.' So I goes along to Briscombe's bank,
and the place is shut up tighter'n a drum. Say, but them bankers has
the classy hours. And Briscombe lives about a mile north of the city
limits, so I guess I'll have to take the dog up there to-night."

"Well, where are you going to put him in the meantime?"

"I'll just hitch him up to Mr. Whimple's table. He won't be in till
near closing time, and then he'll just tell me I needn't stay, like he
usually does."

And forthwith the dog was hitched. He did not display any decided
signs of displeasure, though evidently ill at ease.