in line for the English throne; get that? He used to fight in the preliminaries around New York under the name of Set-Up Jim Byrnes, and he's wore out more tights reclinin' on the floor of a ring than any fighter which ever pulled on a glove! Lefty Murray's rechristened him and is takin' him around the flat-car circuit till somethin' breaks. D'ye think I'd let you go in there if this guy was any good? All I hope is that you don't fracture his skull!"
"But—" begins Halliday.
"This playin' football was a bright idea," goes on Dummy. "It's kept you in steady trainin' all the time, which saves me a lotta trouble." He turns to me. "Boy, he says, "that football thing is one tough pastime. Kin you imagine them cuckoos doin' that stuff for nothin'?" He swings around on Halliday again, which was watchin' him like he was a curiosity. "You ain't mixed up with no dame, are you?" he demands, suspiciously.
The most astonishin' change come over the charmin' features of Monsieur Halliday. His eyebrows becomes one straight line, and them cold eyes gets down to about the size of match heads. I found myself givin' a little shiver, and he wasn't even lookin' at me. He took a half step forward, and I says to myself: "Fare thee well, Dummy Carney!" and friend Dummy's complexion got a shade lighter, whilst a silly grin appeared on his nervous lips. But they was no bloodshed.
Halliday coughed a coupla times, and then his color came back.
"Eh—we will leave the personal element entirely out
