Wam! Dolores win the celluloid fireman's hat, hey?
She flames red to her shoulder blades, stalls for a minute by takin' a drink of water, and then gamely faces the Kid's father with a innocent smile. "Why—why, I suppose you'll think me foolish, Mister Halliday," she stammers, fakin' it wonderfully. "But—er—engineering will keep Kane away from home so much that—"
It was the Kid's dad himself which come to her rescue with a boomin' laugh and a wink to the Senator, and that baby grabbed the chance to switch the talk to the Japanese question. So that was all settled!
We caught a midnight rattler that night, leavin' the Kid's old man with the Senator and Dolores where he was to stay as their guest till we come back.
Late in the afternoon of the day Kid Roberts was to go to the post for the world's heavyweight championship, I was walkin' down the main street of the burg the battle was staged in on my ways to meet Jimmy Brandt, which promoted the battle, for a final conference. The town was loaded to the guards with fight fans from all over the Land of the Free, and every incomin' train was dumpin' off hundreds more, which battled with each other to give the speculators anywheres from a hundred berries up for seats within telephone distance of the ring. They was not as much profit for the speculators in this as you'd think, as the boys was all workin' for the promoter on a straight salary. The Kid was takin' a nap at our camp guarded by no less than Dynamite Jackson, which I'd brung on at beaucoup expense to work out with the Kid durin' the last two weeks before the mill. The boy had
