Just then Jib Jab took my hand and I had a good look at that ring. Oh boy, you can bet I was excited. And you can bet a scout knows Abraham Lincoln’s head when he sees it. But even if I was flabbergasted, I could seem to just hear those words, “_saved my life_.” I bet that fellow Harry Donnelle had hundreds and hundreds of adventures that he never told _us_ about. I guess he didn’t even notice the ring. That’s one thing about a scout, he’s observant. CHAPTER XXX JIB JAB IS SURPRISED Just then Mr. Lemuel Long and Judge Dot got up to go to bed and Jib Jab called, “So long, Shorty! So short, Longy!” While he was laughing at them, I whispered to Harry, “Notice the ring on his finger.” I guess Harry noticed it all right, only he didn’t say anything. He just said, “Your face seems familiar to me; you were in my regiment, eh?” “I was one of those in the machine gun nest,” Jib Jab said; “don’t you remember the four privates you saved?” Harry said, “Oh, you were one of those fellows, eh? Glad to see that you got back to the States all right. I came to see you, but I didn’t know who you were; that is, I didn’t know you had been in France. You’re Horace E. Chandler, I think, aren’t you? I’m glad to see that you’re human; there seems to be some question. Will you have a cigarette?” Gee, it was awful funny to watch the two of them. Jib Jab just stared at him while Harry lifted himself up on the edge of the exhibition platform and lighted a cigarette, kind of off-hand and friendly like. “How’s the savage beast business?” he asked him. “What makes you thing I’m Chandler?” Jib Jab said. Harry said, “Oh, I’ve suspected you were Chandler ever since these boys saw your picture in the paper, but of course, I didn’t know you had been mixed up in the big scrap with me. Funny how things come about, huh?” “Well, I suppose I’ll have to admit it,” Jib Jab said; “I hope you’re not going to shout it out loud.” “No, I just want your assistance. I think you’re a good sport. Far be it from me to criticise you for being a _what-is-it_. I’d like to be one myself. Must be kind of nice flopping around the country with a lot of freaks. How much does that skinny fellow weigh, anyhow? He looks like a ramrod. Little fellow’s kind of pesky, isn’t he?” The two of them just sat there smoking cigarettes. Harry was dangling his legs from the platform and Jib Jab had his feet resting on it and his chair tilted back. It was awful funny to see them. For a couple of minutes neither of them said anything, only Harry kept looking around at the platforms where the freaks usually were. Pretty soon he just blurted out, “How’d you happen to hit this job, Chandler?” Jib Jab said, “Oh, I don’t know; it’s a long story. It’s a pretty good job when you want to lie low.” “Lie low, huh? Why, what’s the matter?” Harry asked.