cully?
Your head ain't solid ivory, is it? I'm starvin'. Gimme fifty cents,
mister. Gimme a quarter if you won't give me fifty. Come on, now, be a
good feller."

"A deteckative like you are oughtn't to need twenty-five cents so bad
as that," said P. Gubb. "A deteckative acquainted with the knowing of
a Dook and of Sherlock Holmes don't have to beg."

Chi Foxy actually gritted his teeth. He was angry with himself. He had
talked too well. He had proved so thoroughly that he was a detective
that P. Gubb would not believe he was hungry.

"See here, bo," he said suddenly, "is this straight about you being a
detective, or is that a bluff, too?"

Philo Gubb showed Chi Foxy the badge he had received upon completion
of his correspondence course of twelve lessons.

"I'm the most celebrated and only deteckative in the town of
Riverbank, Iowa," he said seriously, "and you can ask the Sheriff or
the Chief of Police if you don't believe me. I'm working right now
onto a case of quite some importance, into which a calf was stolen,
but up to now the clues ain't what they should be. If you don't think
I'm a deteckative you can ask Farmer Hopper. He hired me for to get
the capture of the guilty calf-stealer aforesaid."

Chi Foxy studied P. Gubb's simple face.

"And you can arrest a feller and lodge him in jail?" he asked.

"I've arrested many and lodged them into jail," P. Gubb assured him.

"Well, bo," said Chi Foxy frankly, "I'm the man you're looking for.
Arrest me."

The tramp knew enough about arrests to know that even a suspect, when
lodged in jail, would be fed, and he was hungry and getting hungrier
every moment. P. Gubb looked at him with surprise.

"I thought you said you was a deteckative," he said.

"I am," said Chi Foxy. "Or I wouldn't know I was a criminal. I
detected it myself, because nobody else could. Even my old friend
Shermlock Hollums couldn't detect it, but I did. I'm a--a murderer, I
am. There's a thousand-dollar reward offered for me."

"Then why don't you arrest yourself and get the reward?" asked P.
Gubb.

"Say," said Chi Foxy with disgust. "It can't be done. I know, for I've
tried. I'm a fugitive, that's what I am, and right behind me, no
matter where I flee to, comes myself ready to grab me and arrest me.
I've chased myself all over Europe, Asia and Africa, and I can't get
away from myself, and I can't grab myself. It's--it's just awful."

Chi Foxy wiped an imaginary tear from his eye.

"A