m of halves and
quarters into Thomas's hat. The information was of the pile-driver
system of news, and it telescoped my intellects for a while. While I
was leaking small change and smiling foolish on the outside, and
suffering disturbances internally, I was saying, idiotically and
pleasantly:

"'Thank you, Thomas--thank you--er--a freak, you said, Thomas. Now,
could you make out the monstrosity's entitlements a little clearer, if
you please, Thomas?'

"'This is the fellow,' says Thomas, pulling out a yellow handbill from
his pocket and shoving it under my nose. 'He's the Champion Faster of
the Universe. I guess that's why Sis got soft on him. He don't eat
nothing. He's going to fast forty-nine days. This is the sixth. That's
him.'

"I looked at the name Thomas pointed out--'Professor Eduardo
Collieri.' 'Ah!' says I, in admiration, 'that's not so bad, Ed
Collier. I give you credit for the trick. But I don't give you the
girl until she's Mrs. Freak.'

"I hit the sod in the direction of the show. I came up to the rear of
the tent, and, as I did so, a man wiggled out like a snake from under
the bottom of the canvas, scrambled to his feet, and ran into me like
a locoed bronco. I gathered him by the neck and investigated him by
the light of the stars. It is Professor Eduardo Collieri, in human
habiliments, with a desperate look in one eye and impatience in the
other.

"'Hello, Curiosity,' says I. 'Get still a minute and let's have a look
at your freakship. How do you like being the willopus-wallopus or the
bim-bam from Borneo, or whatever name you are denounced by in the
side-show business?'

"'Jeff Peters,' says Collier, in a weak voice. 'Turn me loose, or I'll
slug you one. I'm in the extremest kind of a large hurry. Hands off!'

"'Tut, tut, Eddie,' I answers, holding him hard; 'let an old friend
gaze on the exhibition of your curiousness. It's an eminent graft you
fell onto, my son. But don't speak of assaults and battery, because
you're not fit. The best you've got is a lot of nerve and a mighty
empty stomach.' And so it was. The man was as weak as a vegetarian
cat.

"'I'd argue this case with you, Jeff,' says he, regretful in his
style, 'for an unlimited number of rounds if I had half an hour to
train in and a slab of beefsteak two feet square to train with. Curse
the man, I say, that invented the art of going foodless. May his soul
in eternity be chained up within two feet of a bottomless pit of red-
hot ha