TIBERIUS SMITH
By Lake Champlain! We're both doddering idiots! Hurrah!'
"Of course, if he was going to shy away from sanity in that way, it didn't make much difference what happened, and it sent the tainted blood to my own belfry, and I sobbed: 'All right, old lion. Come and eat us. Why be poor and hungry when you—'
"‘Shut up!' he roared. 'We have the ammonia guns. Quick! See if they are loaded!' Then, more slowly, 'If that bee would keep out of my head I'd teach 'em that the spirit of Spartacus still loafs about in old New England.'
"‘Please be sane,' I begged, my head going cool again. 'A lion is all I can stand. My gun's loaded.' And my heart gave a mighty thump as I yanked it forth and found its bulb filled to the limit with Tib's ex-special brand of dope.
"As he produced his pistol the fever returned, and he patted the barrel waggishly, and then mumbled, 'I only hope the lion that eats me won't ever fight or have any quarrels with your lion.'
"‘There's only one,' I remonstrated, slapping his shoulder.
"‘Very well,' the old chap assented, apologetically, 'if he comes one at a time he can never get through the door.'
"It was a mighty tough combination, you'll admit, sir—the lion and Tib's erratic delirium. It
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