Askin' fool questions was Cliffy's specialty. You see, he'd made out a list of buildin's he thought he wanted to take a look at; but he hadn't stopped to put down the street numbers or anything. And when he wants information does he hunt up a directory or a cop? Oh, no! He holds up anyone that's handy, from a white wings dodgin' trucks in the middle of Madison Square, to a Wall Street broker rushin' from 'Change out to a directors' meetin'. He seems to think anybody he meets knows all about New York, and has time to take him by the hand and lead him right where he wants to go, whether it's the new Custom House down town, or Grant's Tomb up on the drive. Throw downs don't discourage him any, either. Two minutes after he's been told to go chase himself he'll butt right in somewhere else and call for directions. The worst of it was that he couldn't remember what he was told for more'n three minutes on a stretch. We found out these little tricks of Clifford's after he'd been makin' the office his headquarters for a couple of days. First mornin' we started him out early for the Battery, to size up the Bowling Green Buildin' and the Aquarium. About noon he limps in with his hat all dirt and ashes up and down his back. From the description he gives we figure out that he's been somewhere up on Washington Heights and has got into an argument with a janitor that didn't like being rung up from the basement and asked how far it was to Whitehall-st. Well, we fixes him up, writes out all the partic'lars of his route on a card, and gives him a fresh send-off. It wa'n't more'n half an hour afterwards that I was out on an errand, and as I cut through 22d-st. back of the Flatiron I sees a crowd. Course, I pushes in to find out what was holdin' up all the carriages and bubbles that has to switch through there goin' north. Somehow I had a feelin' that it might be Clifford. And it was! He was in the middle of the ring, hoppin' around lively and wavin' that umbrella of his like a sword. The other party was the pilot of a hansom cab that had climbed down off his perch and was layin' on with his whip. I hated to disturb that muss; for I had an idea Cliffy was gettin' about what was comin' to him, and the crowd was enjoyin' it to the limit. But I see a couple of traffic cops comin' over from Broadway; so I breaks through, grabs Clifford by the arm, and chases him down the avenue, breathin' some hard but not much hurt. "Chee!" says I, "but you're a wonder! Was you tryin' to buy an eight-mile cab ride for a quarter?" "Why, no," says he. "I merely stopped the man to ask him where the nearest subway station was, and before I knew it he became angry. I'm sure I didn't know----" "That's the trouble with you, Cliffy," says I, "and if you don't get over it you'll be hurt bad. Where's that card we made out for you?" "I--I must have lost that," says he.