the football players. "I don't figure you tramps has paid off yet for what you done to Kid Roberts, get me? I'll take you four at a time to make it a little even. C'mon, chums, let's go!"
"We've had enough fighting!" butts in Kid Roberts sternly. "I consider accounts settled, and that ends the incident. Let's get back to the inn and forget it!"
Kid Roberts is Ptomaine's god, and this big sap would jump off the city hall flagpole into a cigar box if the Kid asked him. I often wish he would! Anyways, Ptomaine is about to walk sullenly away, when he happens to see five or six of these college boys standin' in a line watchin' their fallen captain and still tryin' to figure out how it all happened. Ptomaine's face brightens.
"Hey, you guys!" he calls sharply.
They all wheeled around, and, seein' Ptomaine, give him a loud laugh.
Ptomaine glared. Then he suddenly drew back his gigantic right arm and let go at the fellow nearest him, landin' with a dull sock on his jaw. His prey went down, fallin' against the guy in back of him and the second victim stumbled against the next one in tryin' to hold his balance. That throwed a third guy off his feet and the whole bunch goes down like ninepins in a busy bowlin' alley. They couldn't of done it no funnier should they have rehearsed it for a week! Ptomaine looks down at 'em with a satisfied sneer.
"See can you laugh that off, you big stiffs!" he snarls, and walks away, happy.
