"Geel Dis is a swell joint," were the tramp's first words as with apparent awkwardness he entered the car.
"You say you've promised Buck to go with him without knowing where you are going?"
"Well, we are willing. But I may as well tell you that this is a secret expedition. If you go you must promise that you will not tell anyone what you see or hear."
The tramp's face suddenly took on a peculiar look, but it was gone as quickly.
"I gives me woid. I won't open me trap to no one."
"Meaning you won't say anything about it?" smiled Ned inquiringly.
"Dat's it. Mum's de woid. I won't open me trap."
The furtive look came back, this time more pronounced.
"Me to write! Wit wot? Me new typewriter?"
"That isn't an answer. Do you promise, if we send you with Buck, that you'll neither tell nor write nor make known in any way what you learn about what we are doing?"
"Say, look here, boss. Quit yer kiddin'. Me name is Lippe and mebbe I shoot it off a bit too frequent now and then, but you don't need to be afeered o' me peachin' to de udder'Bos.'"
"I'm not afraid of that," continued Ned. "We don't care what you tell all the tramps this side of Kansas City. But we don't want you to print anything more about us in the Comet."
Hardly a flush came on the tramp's face. There was a quick movement of the lips as if he were about to make protest and then he laughed outright.
"Bob Russell," said Ned, also laughing, "would you like the use of our bath tub for a few moments?"
"Would I!" laughed the young reporter rubbing his tinted and smoke begrimed hands together as if to wash them. "Well, I guess I would. My hands are up. What's next?"
The young reporter was still laughing. "And if it isn't too much trouble," he asked, "would you mind if Buck took his check over to the depot and got the suit case that it calls for? Then we'll talk business."
In less than twenty minutes the sun burnt, dirty Gus Lippe had been transformed into the dapper Bob Russell. When he reappeared in fresh linen, outing clothes and a natty straw hat, he was still laughing. Approaching the group in the drawing room, where Marshal Jack Jellup had now arrived, the young reporter took out his pocket book and a five dollar bill.
"I'll pay that back first," he began; and then noticing one of his cards he politely handed it to the marshal. It read:
