ell joint.
God! if I was only sure they doped me."

"Who?"

"Who? Why--gee, you nearly had me talking that time! Nix on the
questions, Geoff, I ain't goin' to give 'em away; it ain't playin'
square. Only, if two or three guys dopes a guy till a guy's think-box is
like a cheese an' his mind as clear as mud, that poor guy ain't to be
blamed for it, now, is he?"

"Why, certainly!" nodded Ravenslee.

"How d' ye make that out?"

"For being such a fool of a guy as to let other guys fool him, of
course. Sounds a little cryptic, but I guess you understand."

"Oh, I get you!" sighed Spike drearily. "But say, didn't you come out to
buy a toothbrush?"

"And other things, yes."

"Well, say, s'pose we quit chewing th' rag an' start in an' get 'em.
There's a Sheeny store on Ninth Avenue where you can get dandy shirts
for fifty cents a throw."

"Sounds fairly reasonable!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee as they turned up
Thirty-ninth Street.

"Then you want a new lid, Geoff!"

Mr. Ravenslee took off the battered hat and looked at it.

"What's the matter with this?" he enquired.

"Nothin', Geoff, only it wants burnin'," sighed Spike. "An' then--them
boots--oh, gee!"

"Are they so bad as that?"

"Geoff, they sure are the punkest pavement pounders in little old N'
York. Why, a Dago hodcarrier wouldn't be seen dead in 'em; look at th'
patches. Gee whizz! Where did His Whiskers dig 'em up from?"

"I fancy they were his own--once," answered Mr. Ravenslee, surveying his
bulbous, be-patched footgear a little ruefully.

"Well, I'll gamble a stack of blue chips there ain't such a phoney pair
in Manhattan Village."

"They're not exactly things of beauty, I'll admit," sighed Mr.
Ravenslee, "but still--"

"They're rotten, Geoff! They're all to the garbage can! They are the
cheesiest proposition in sidewalk slappers I ever piped off!"

"Hum! You're inclined to be a trifle discouraging, Spike!"

"Why, ye see, Geoff, I wan'cher t' meet th' push, an' I don't want 'em
to think I'm floatin' around with a down-an'-out from Battyville! You
must have some real shoes, Geoff."

"Enough--it shall be done!" nodded Mr. Ravenslee.

"Well, tan Oxfords are all to th' grapes just now, Geoff. I don't mean
those giddy-lookin' pumps with flossy bows onto 'em, but somethin'
sporty, good an' yellow that'll flash an' let folks know you're comin'.
And here's Eckstein's!"

With which abrupt remark Spike plunged into a shop, very dark and narrow
by re