"He's goin' to be annoyed some more, young-fellow-me-lad!" I says heartily. "And if you don't think so you're crazy!"
Leavin' the youth to gaze after me in puzzlement, I rushed upstairs and bust in on Kid Roberts and Ptomaine with the spectacular information that below decks we have a gent which is passin' himself off as the Kid. That ruined the pinochle game and Ptomaine says he'll go right down and slap the gay masquerader for a gondola. This procedure seemed to me to be about right, after which we could expose this baby to his new-found admirers. But Kid Roberts, which don't seem able to stop laughin', interferes with our plans. The strange situation appeared to vastly entertain the Kid and he says to leave the impostor alone for the time bein' and we'll get a lot of laughs out of watchin' his capers in tryin' to carry off the part of a ex-heavyweight champion.
There was a lot of laughs, all right, only we didn't get 'em!
When me, the Kid, and Ptomaine went down to lunch, this guy which is pretendin' to be Kid Roberts is carryin' on smartly—a island of self-satisfaction entirely surrounded by a sea of worshipin' faces. He's throwin' out a good-sized chest and puttin' on dog like a Ethiopian field hand with a new pair of yellow shoes. It made me and Ptomaine boil, but all it made Kid Roberts do was smile. As we try to shove past the millin' mob in the lobby, Mr. Liar is tellin' the boys and girls all about his "ring battles" with a gusto and makin' 'em like it! He's danc-
