iest fight of all, and they'll throw each other down and hit each
other over the head forty-'leven times. Then the devil'll win."

But a puritanical mother had, on the tour preceding, written Professor
O'Reilley, objecting to the devil's conquest of the unrepentant old
reprobate, so that master of ventriloquism introduced a new character
into the ancient tale, and the devil went the way of Punch's other
victims.

"H-m-m," puzzled John with wrinkled brow. "This isn't the same--What's
that?"

"Open," ordered Punch of the long, flat object which appeared beside the
body of the devil.

"It's an aggilator," shrilled Louise as the mystery disclosed two
terrific rows of teeth and a long, red throat.

"Shut," ordered Punch. The jaws closed with a snap.

"Isn't it peachy?" whispered John.

"Open," ordered Punch once more. Again the jaws swung slowly and
impressively apart.

"Close," repeated Punch, as he stooped dangerously near the yawning
cavern.

The jaws snapped within a thirty-second of an inch of the arch-villain's
nose. Angered, Punch hit the beast with his little club, while the
audience screamed in delight. Ensued a fight which changed rapidly to a
pursuit back and forth over the bodies of Judy, the policeman, and the
rest of the company. At last Punch tripped and the animal seized upon
him and bore him, shrieking, below.

"Is that all?" asked Louise, as the little curtain descended.

"All?" John answered, as he glanced over the other delights promised by
the blue advertisement. "All? Why it isn't but a third over!"

Two assistants turned impromptu stage hands and shifted the Punch and
Judy cabinet to the rear of the stage. The professor stooped over a
battered trunk at the side, and brought out two life-sized dolls with
huge, staring eyes, and swinging arms and legs. He sat down on a chair
at the center of the platform.

"These," he said as he balanced the manikins on his knees, "are my two
little boys. They're usually very nice little fellows, but I'm afraid
they've been shut up so long in that dark trunk that they're feeling a
little angry. I'll have to see. Now [to the sandy-haired caricature on
his right], tell the people what your name is. No? Then we'll have to
ask your friend here. What's your name?"

"Sambo," mouthed the black-faced marionette.

"Gee!" whispered John, as he watched the professor's lips closely.
"How's he do it?"

"Now, tell all these nice little girls and boys how old you a