Skiddoo! | Page 8

for them a steel cage, which was placed in the depths of the
Hackensack jungles, and thither they went.
Dr. Soupnoodle was of the opinion that a Jersey mosquito has a
language, and the other two members of the committee agreed to help
him to settle this point.
"My idea is," said Dr. Soupnoodle, "dot der beasts haf a speech vich
dey use, uddervise how can dey find our fairst families in der blue book
und go after deir blue blood?"
"Do you hold, Doctor, that the mosquito speaks with a guttural
inflection on the vowels?" inquired Uncle William.
"More likely with a stringency on the last syllable of the diphthong,"
suggested Dr. Glueface.
"Ve vill sprinkle near der cage a little Wienerwurst und a cubble of
smoked hams," explained the Dutch doctor. "Ve vill den retire behind
der bars of der steel cage, und mit our repitition rifles on our knees
avait der cameing of der enemies of cifilization."
This plan was carried into effect.
The minutes passed by and they sat there, three determined men, trying
to drag from reluctant New Jersey the terrible secrets of its most

popular industry.
"We must not talk," whispered Professor Glueface, "because if the
mosquito suspects the presence of a human being he will not talk."
"No," replied Uncle William, pale but calm; "the battle cry of the
mosquito is deeds, not words!"
Deep silence fell over the Jersey jungle, broken only by the far-away
shrieks of a locomotive as it snorted with fear and hurried out of the
State.
"Kluck-gurgle-kluck-gurgle-gurgle!"
The committee grasped their repeating rifles and peered into the
darkness.
"Vun of dem is cameing!" whispered Professor Soupnoodle;
"remember Metz und strike for der Fatherland!"
"Kluck-gurgle-kluck-gurgle-gurgle!"
Gee whiz! the horror of that bitter moment.
Uncle William removed a short prayer from his mind, and the Dutch
Professor started to sing "Die Wacht am Rhine."
But just then Professor Glueface smacked his lips and put the bottle
down.
"Fine!" he said; "I feel better now."
Then the rest of the committee knew that it was a false alarm
originating in the thirst of the Professor.
But just then the gloom in front of them began to take form and shape,
and they knew this was no false alarm.
"Zwei!" whispered Professor Soupnoodle.

"Great Scott!" exclaimed Dr. Glueface, "my idea is right--the Jersey
mosquito has a language! I can catch a word now and then. It is
something like Sanscrit, only slangier!"
They listened and watched.
Approaching them through the gloom could be seen two beautiful
specimens of the Kings of the Jersey jungles.
"It is a male und a female," whispered the Dutch Professor. "I can tell it
because he vears someding like a Pajama hat, und she holds vun ving
up like a skirt."
The committee clutched their repeating rifles closer and prepared for
the worst.
"They are engaged to be married," Professor Glueface whispered; "he
has just told her that he knows where to get good board and lodging in
a Harlem flat. She calls him Percy. Her name is Evaline. Hss-s-s-sh!"
The warning was too late.
The Scourges of the Swamp had discovered the cage and drew nearer.
"He laughs at us," whispered Professor Glueface; "now he is telling her
that the cage is only made of steel and it is a cinch. He has gone to get
his drill. What is to be done?"
"In the interests of science," Uncle William whispered, "let us sneak
out and run for the police with all our hearts."
And this they did while Percy was getting his drill ready.
Time, for the first 100 yards, nine seconds flat; for the rest of the
distance about ten seconds on the average.
The committee has not yet reported whether or not there is malaria in a
mosquito's bite, because they didn't wait to let him bite them.

Stung!
CHAPTER V
JOHN HENRY ON STREET CAR ETIQUETTE
"Ding!"
"Naw, we don't take no transfers, needer! Aw, chase yerself!"
[Illustration: "Naw, we don't take no transfers, needer!"]
"Ding, ding!"
For my part I haven't been able to figure it out, but Uncle Peter is the
lad who has made a profound study of that street car proposition known
as the End-Seat Hog.
* * * * * *
I'm going to pass you out a talk he handed me a few evenings ago on
that subject.
Pipe!
Suffering crumpets, John! I don't know anything about this end seat
business, and the more I try to find out the more complex becomes the
problem.
I've been up and down and over and across in the surface cars, John,
and my experience is ornamented by ripped trousers and discolored
shins, but my intellect blows out a fuse every time I try to dope out the
real way not to