The judges stared at each other and then at Ollie. For a moment the entire audience sat in awed silence, as if watching a miracle. Then the mood of awe passed. One of the judges said wisely, "He palms them and slips them to a confederate." "Out here on the stage?" demanded another judge. "Where's his confederate? Besides, you can see for yourself that he eats them. You can watch them going down his throat." "But that's impossible. If they really went down his throat, he'd gain weight." "I don't know how he does it," admitted the other. "But he does." "The man is a freak. Let's get some doctors over here." Ollie ate another hundred and forty-three eggs, and then had to stop because the restaurant ran out of them. The other contestants never even had a chance to get started. * * * * * When the doctor came and they told him the story, his first impulse seemed to be to grin. He knew a practical joke when he heard one. But they put Ollie on the scales--by this time he weighed only a hundred thirty-eight and a quarter pounds--and fed him a two pound loaf of bread. Then they weighed him again. He was an even one hundred and thirty-eight. "At this rate, he'll starve to death," said the doctor, who opened his little black bag and proceeded to give Ollie a thorough examination. Ollie was very unhappy about it because it interfered with his eating, and he felt more hungry than ever. But they promised to feed him afterward and, more or less unwillingly, he submitted. "Bad teeth, enlarged heart, lesion on each lung, flat feet, hernia, displaced vertebrae--you name it and he has it," said the doctor. "Where the devil did he come from?" Ollie was working on an order of roast beef and was too busy to reply. Somebody said, "He's a rag-picker. I've seen him around." "When did he start this eating spree?" With stuffed mouth, Ollie mumbled, "Today." "Today, eh? What happened today that makes you able to eat so much?" "I just feel hungry." "I can see that. Look, how about going over to the hospital so we can really examine you?" "No, sir," said Ollie. "You ain't pokin' no needles into me." "No needles," agreed the doctor hastily. If there was no other way to get blood samples, they could always drug him with morphine and he'd never know what had happened. "We'll just look at you. And we'll feed you all you can eat." "All I can eat? It's a deal!" * * * * * The humor was crude, but it put the point across--the photographer assigned to the contest had snapped a picture of Ollie in the middle of gulping two eggs. One was traveling down his gullet, causing a lump in his throat, and the other was being stuffed into his mouth at the same time. The caption writer had entitled the shot: THE MAN WHO BROKE THE ICEBOX AT MONTE'S, and the column alongside was headed, Eats Three Hundred and Forty-three Eggs. "I'm Hungry!" He Says.