"--you are twelve years old. You are at the portal of manhood. You are old enough to take a little pride in your personal appearance, and your personal--ah--your personal--well, you should be careful never to permit yourself to become in any way offensive to others. You should take pride in keeping sweet and clean. Now, my son, you got into something this morning that has made you very distasteful company for man or beast. Have you any idea what it is?" As Mr. Cane resumed the vigorous puffing of his cigar, Sube's heart gave a leap; his father hadn't recognized the smell! His mustache was safe! "Why," the boy romanced easily, "if you mean the linimunt I put on my leg, I know what _that_ is." "Great heavens!" his father burst out. "Do you mean to say that you intentionally contaminated yourself with any such evil-smelling stuff as that?" Sube quailed before his father's accusing stare and his more accusing gestures. "I guess I hurt it, didn't I?" he mumbled defensively. "And didn't I have to put some'pm on it? And that was the only linimunt--" "Liniment!" snorted Mr. Cane. "Where did you ever get any such 'liniment' as that?" "Sir?-- Why, out of a bottle," Sube managed to squirm out at last. "Out of a bottle, eh? Well, bring me the bottle!" Sube half started for the door, then halted. "I can't," he whimpered. "Can't? Why not?" demanded his father. "'Cause I dropped it and broke it," Sube faltered. Mr. Cane was obviously relieved. "Oh, well," he said, "if that's the case, never mind. But just as soon as one hour has elapsed I want you to take a good hot bath. Now don't forget it!" As Sube uttered a scowling but respectful "No, sir," and started to leave the room his father noticed for the first time that he was limping badly. "Is your leg really hurt, my son?" he asked more kindly. Sube's face was a study of excruciating pain as he paused to reply that it was pretty bad and he was afraid a bath would make it a good deal worse. Mr. Cane was not a hard man. He wished to inflict no unnecessary suffering on any one. Perhaps the application of hot water would be painful. And doubtless the odor of the liniment would evaporate in an hour or two. "Never mind about the bath," he remitted as he began to gather up his papers in preparation for going back to his office. As he went down the front steps a few moments later, Mr. Cane narrowly missed being run down by a youth who came bursting round the corner of the house in pursuit of a fleeing cat; and recognizing the fleet-footed pursuer as the erstwhile cripple, he scowled at the deception that had been practiced on him. Then he was struck with humor of the situation, and smiled in spite of himself. "Miraculous liniment," he chuckled as he started down the street; "but I'm mighty glad the bottle's been broken." CHAPTER II ASTONISHING RESULTS