"They got the notion I was crazy, an' I reckon they knew everything about us but the one thing that counted most, which was that Pharaoh hadn't been in that car an hour all told. You know, when you go down into Egypt after corn, you got to do as the Egyptians do: have an ace in the hole all the time. Solomon says that a fool uttereth all his mind, but a wise man keepeth it till afterward. That's why I'm gassin' so much now, I reckon." "Old-timer," chuckled the Kid, "you're a wonder, and I'm proud to have a kid named for you! Just one question more, and I'm through. You won the stake, and that amounts to quite a mess of money, but did you bet enough to pay the freight on the string?" "Well, now, son," said the old man; "I been so glad to see you that I kind of forgot that part of it." He fumbled in the tail pockets of his rusty black frock coat and brought forth great handfuls of tickets. "I didn't take less'n 15 to 1," said he, "an' I bet 'em till my feet ached, just walkin' from one book to another. I haven't tried to figger it up, but I reckon I took more corn away from these Egyptians than the law allows a single man to have. If it's all the same to you, Frank, an' the baby ain't got no objections, I'd like to use some of this to start a savings account for my namesake. Curry ain't no name for a baby girl, an' you ought to let me square it with her somehow. Mebbe when she gits of age, an' wants to marry some harum-scarum boy, she won't think so bad of her gran'daddy." THE MODERN JUDGMENT OF SOLOMON It was an unpleasantly warm morning, and the thick, black shade of an umbrella tree made queer neighbours--as queer neighbours as the Jungle Circuit could produce. Old Man Curry found the shade first and felt that he was entitled to it by right of discovery, consequently he did not move when Henry M. Pitkin signified an intention of sharing the coolness with him. Old Man Curry had less than a bowing acquaintance with Pitkin, wished to know him no better, and had disliked him from the moment he had first seen him. "Hot, ain't it?" asked the newcomer by way of making a little talk. "What you reading, Curry?" Old Man Curry looked up from the thirteenth chapter of Proverbs, ceased chewing his straw, and regarded Pitkin with a grave and appraising interest which held something of disapproval, something of insult. Pitkin's eyes shifted. "It says here," remarked the aged horseman, "'A righteous man hateth lying: but a wicked man is loathsome, and cometh to shame.'" "Fair enough," said Pitkin, "and serves him right. He ought to come to shame. Pretty hot for this time of year." "It'll be hotter for some folks by and by." Pitkin laughed noisily. "Where do you get that stuff?" he demanded.