he two boys were lying sick, Jimmy, remembering the doctor who
wouldn't attend the monkey, got suspicious and he said to Dr. Trudeau:
'There's just wan thing you got to un'stand right away, Doc. Smokey may
be a li'l nigger, but _he ain't no monk_! D'yuh get me?'

"They both got well, and they got work, too. Then one evening they came
down to look over this Scout business that had helped them for not so
much as a 'thank you' and--well, Jimmy's a good little Scout. As for
Smokey, he's the Troop Mascot, but--he still thinks Jimmy is God's
little brother; and I don't know that I blame him."

"Fine!" said the Commissioner, and a few seconds later he repeated with
even more emphasis, "FINE!"

FOOTNOTE:

[N] Reprinted from "The Boy Scouts' Year Book." Copyright, 1918, by D.
Appleton and Company.

[Illustration]

XVI.--The Lion's Smile[O]

_By Thomas W. Hanshew_

_Cleek, the Master Detective of Scotland Yard, or
"the Man of Forty Faces," as he was sometimes
called, solved the riddles that proved too much
for his friend, Mr. Maverick Narkom,
Superintendent of Police. I am confident boys will
enjoy meeting "Cleek" and will, with keen delight,
follow him as he unravels the threads of the great
mystery of the "lion's smile."_--THE EDITOR.

IT was on the very stroke of five when Cleek, answering an urgent
message from headquarters, strolled into the bar parlor of "The Fiddle
and Horseshoe," which, as you may possibly know, stands near to the
Green in a somewhat picturesque by-path between Shepherd's Bush and
Acton, and found Narkom in the very act of hanging up his hat and
withdrawing his gloves preparatory to ordering tea.

"My dear Cleek, what a model of punctuality you are," said the
superintendent, as he came forward and shook hands with him. "You would
put Father Time himself to the blush with your abnormal promptness. Do
make yourself comfortable for a moment or two while I go and order tea.
I've only just arrived. Shan't be long, old chap."

"Pray don't hurry yourself upon my account, Mr. Narkom," replied Cleek,
as he tossed his hat and gloves upon a convenient table and strolled
leisurely to the window and looked out on the quaint, old-fashioned
arbor-bordered bowling green, all steeped in sunshine and zoned with the
froth of pear and apple blooms, thick-piled above the time-stained brick
of the enclosing wall. "These quain