hundred dollars a word, and one of the words is 'the.'"

"Too steep for me," the other objected. "I've got a make a living."

"So have I," Collins assured him. "That's why I'm here. I'm a
specialist, and you're paying a specialist's fee. You'll be as mad as a
hornet when I tell you, it's that simple; and for the life of me I can't
understand why you don't already know it."

"And if it don't work?" was the dubious query.

"If it don't work, you don't pay."

"Well, shoot it along," the lion man surrendered.

"_Wire the cage_," said Collins.

At first the man could not comprehend; then the light began to break on
him.

"You mean . . . ?"

"Just that," Collins nodded. "And nobody need be the wiser. Dry
batteries will do it beautifully. You can install them nicely under the
cage floor. All Isadora has to do when she's ready is to step on the
button; and when the electricity shoots through their feet, if they don't
go up in the air and rampage and roar around to beat the band, not only
can you keep the three hundred, but I'll give you three hundred more. I
know. I've seen it done, and it never misses fire. It's just as though
they were dancing on a red-hot stove. Up they go, and every time they
come down they burn their feet again.

"But you'll have to put the juice into them slowly," Collins warned.
"I'll show you how to do the wiring. Just a weak battery first, so as
they can work up to it, and then stronger and stronger to the curtain.
And they never get used to it. As long as they live they'll dance just
as lively as the first time. What do you think of it?"

"It's worth three hundred all right," the man admitted. "I wish I could
make my money that easy."

CHAPTER XXIX

"Guess I'll have to wash my hands of him," Collins told Johnny. "I know
Del Mar must have been right when he said he was the limit, but I can't
get a clue to it."

This followed upon a fight between Michael and Collins. Michael, more
morose than ever, had become even crusty-tempered, and, scarcely with
provocation at all, had attacked the man he hated, failing, as ever, to
put his teeth into him, and receiving, in turn, a couple of smashing
kicks under his jaw.

"He's like a gold-mine all right all right," Collins meditated, "but I'm
hanged if I can crack it, and he's getting grouchier every day. Look at
him. What'd he want to jump me for? I wasn't rough with him. He's
piling up a sour-ball that'll make him