A bunch of brisk boys--believe me! [Illustration: "A bunch of brisk boys--believe me!"] Nick Dalrymple, Tod Stone, Slim Barnes--say! do you remember Slim? Travels for a clothing house in Cincinnati and they call him Slim because he's so fat that every time he turns around he meets himself coming back. He's all to the good--that boy is! And such a cut-up! Slim knows more "look-out!--there's - a - lady - over - there!" stories than any other drummer in the business. Nick goes after the gilt things for a hardware house in Columbus and he knows everybody in the world--bar no one living. Nick has only one trouble, he will paddle after the ponies. Whenever he makes a town where there's a pool room his expense account gets fat and beefy, and Nick begins to worry for fear he may win something. He won $12 in Cleveland once and he spent $218 at a boozeologist's that night getting statistics on how it happened. Tod Stone cuts ice for a match factory in Newark and he's the life of a small party. Tod's main hold is to creep into the "reading room" of a Rube hotel after the chores are done of an evening and throw salve at the come-ons. Tod tells them that their town is the brightest spot on the map and they warm up to him and want to buy him sarsaparilla and root beer. Then when he gets them stuck on themselves he sells them matches. "Pipe the gang to quarters and all rubber!" said Slim, about half an hour after the train pulled out. In the seat ahead of us a somewhat demure looking Proposition in rainbow rags had been sampling the scenery ever since we started. We had all given her the glad glance but she was very much Cold Storage, so we passed it up. As Slim spoke, the Proposition was joined by a young chap with a loose face who had been out in the smoking room working faithfully on one of those pajama panatella cigars that bite you on the ringer if you show the least sign of fear. Just then the train stopped for a few minutes and we were put wise to the fact that it was an incurable case of bride and groom. "Oh! Boozey is back to his Birdie!" said the brand new wife; "did Boozey like his smoky woky?" Boozey opened a bunch of grins and sat down while wifey patted his cheek and cooed: "Is ums glad to get back to ums 'ittle wifey-pifey?" Nick Dalrymple and Tod Stone began to scream inwardly and Slim was chuckling like a pet porpoise. "Sweetie mustn't be angry with Petie, but Sweetie is sitting on Petie's 'ittle hand!" said the bride, whereupon Tod exploded and Slim began to grab for his breath. A Dutch brewer and his wife sat right ahead of Boozey and Birdie and every once in a while the old hop puncher would turn around and beam benignly over the gold rims at the bride. "Boozie must snuggy-wuggy up closer to his Coozie and skeeze her 'itty arm--no, no, not her waist! you naughty! naughty!" The brewer was back at the bride with another gold-rimmed goo-goo when his wife got nervous and cut in: