"Mr. Smeed," he said, giving him his hand in admiration, "you go ahead; you make a great record." "Six more," cried Macnooder. "Six it is," said Hickey, in an awed voice; "six and thirty-three makes thirty-nine!" Mrs. Conover and Macnooder, no longer antagonists, came in from the kitchen to watch the great spectacle. Little Smeed alone, calm and unconscious, with the light of a great ambition on his forehead, ate steadily, without vacillation. "Gee, what a stride!" "By Jiminy, where does he put it?" said Conover, staring helplessly. "Holy cats!" "Thirty-nine--thirty-nine pancakes--gee!!!" "Hungry," said Hickey, entreatingly, "do you think you could eat another--make it an even forty?" "Three more," said Smeed, pounding the table with a new authority. This time no voice rose in remonstrance. The clouds had rolled away. They were in the presence of a master. "Pancakes coming." "Bring them in!" "Three more." "Three it is," said Hickey, faintly. "Thirty-nine and three makes forty-two--forty-two. Gee!" In profound silence the three pancakes passed regularly from the plate down the throat of little Smeed. Forty-two pancakes! "Three more," said Smeed. Doc Macnooder rushed in hysterically. "Hungry, go the limit--the limit! If anything happens I'll bleed you." "Shut up, Doc!" "Get out, you wild man." Macnooder was sent ignominiously back into the kitchen, with the curses of the Dickinson, and Smeed assured of their unfaltering protection. "Three more," came the cry from the chastened Macnooder. "Three it is," said Hickey. "Forty-two and three makes--forty-five." [Illustration: "'I'll stop when it's time,' said Smeed; 'bring 'em on now, one at a time.'"] "Holy cats!" Still little Smeed, without appreciable abatement of hunger, continued to eat. A sense of impending calamity and alarm began to spread. Forty-five pancakes, and still eating! It might turn into a tragedy. "Say, bub--say, now," said Hickey, gazing anxiously down into the pointed face, "you've done enough--don't get rash." "I'll stop when it's time," said Smeed; "bring 'em on now, one at a time." "Forty-six, forty-seven, forty-eight, forty-nine!" Suddenly, at the moment when they expected him to go on forever, little Smeed stopped, gazed at his plate, then at the fiftieth pancake, and said: "That's all." Forty-nine pancakes! Then, and only then, did they return to a realisation of what had happened. They cheered Smeed, they sang his praises, they cheered again, and then, pounding the table, they cried, in a mighty chorus: "We want pancakes!" "Bring us pancakes!" "Pancakes, pancakes, we want pancakes!" Twenty minutes later, Red Dog and the Egghead, fed to bursting, rolled out of Conover's, spreading the uproarious news. "Free pancakes! Free pancakes!" The nearest houses, the Davis and the Rouse, heard and came with a rush.