Cap. was in
the office, his plug hat on the back of his head and a cigar in his
mouth.
"'What's the trouble?' says I.
"'Had a hell of a time around here,' says he. 'I was called up on the
'phone and got down as soon as I could. Just take an observation of that
fellow over there.'
"The fellow referred to was the handler of the Talking Horse. His left
arm was done up in splints and bandaged from finger-tips to shoulder,
and he had a clump of reporters around him about six feet thick.
"'What hit him?' asks I.
"'About everything on the top floor,' says Cap., solemnly. 'The Talking
Horse is dead. Mighty Mardo broke out of his showcase about an hour ago,
took a couple of half hitches around the Admiral and crushed him to
death.'
"'Go 'way!' says I.
"'Sure thing,' says Cap. 'Come up stairs and have a look.'
"We went up and did so. The place was a wreck; the horse was the deadest
I ever saw and the constrictor was still twined about him.
"'Why, the snake's passed out, too,' says I.
"Cap.
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