onths, and it's natural I was more or less chummy with them.

So when Rossy shows up here the other mornin' and shoves out his
proposition to me, I don't think nothin' of it.

"Shorty," says he, kind of flushin' up, "I've got a favour to ask of
you."

"You're welcome to use all I've got in the bank," says I.

"It isn't money," says he, growin' pinker.

"Oh!" says I, like I was a lot surprised. "Your usin' the touch
preamble made me think it was. What's the go?"

"I--I can't tell you just now," says he; "but I'd like your assistance
in a little affair, about eight o'clock this evening. Where can I find
you?"

"Sounds mysterious," says I. "You ain't goin' up against any Canfield
game; are you?"

"Oh, I assure----" he begins.

"That's enough," says I, and I names the particular spot I'll be
decoratin' at that hour.

"You won't fail?" says he, anxious.

"Not unless an ambulance gets me," says I.

Well, I didn't go around battin' my head all the rest of the day,
tryin' to think out what it was Rossiter had on the card. Somehow he
ain't the kind you'd look for any hot stunts from. If I'd made a
guess, maybe I'd said he wanted me to take him and a college chum down
to a chop suey joint for an orgy on li-chee nuts an' weak tea.

So I wa'n't fidgetin' any that evenin', as I holds up the corner of
42nd-st., passin' the time of day with the Rounds, and watchin' the
Harlem folks streak by to the roof gardens. Right on the tick a hansom
fetches up at the curb, and I sees Rossiter givin' me the wig-wag to
jump in.

"You're runnin' on sked," says I. "Where to now?"

"I think your Studio would be the best place," says he, "if you don't
mind."

I said I didn't, and away we goes around the corner. As we does the
turn I sees another cab make a wild dash to get in front, and, takin' a
peek through the back window, I spots a second one followin'.

"Are we part of a procession?" says I, pointin' 'em out to him.

He only grins and looks kind of sheepish. "That's the regular thing
nowadays," says he.

"What! Tin badgers?" says I.

He nods. "They made me rather nervous at first," he says; "but after
I'd been shadowed for a week or so I got used to it, and lately I've
got so I would feel lost without them. To-night, though, they're
rather a nuisance. I thought you might help me to throw them off the
track."

"But who set 'em on?" says I.

"Oh, it's father, I suppose," says he; not grouchy mind you, but