"Mf! It's a VERY tough question, AIN'T it! YES, sir, I k'n tell you what's tattooed on his breast. It's jest a small, thin, blue arrow --that's what it is; and if you don't look clost, you can't see it. NOW what do you say--hey?"

     Well, I never see anything like that old blister for clean out-and-out cheek.

     The new old gentleman turns brisk towards Ab Turner and his pard, and his eye lights up like he judged he'd got the king THIS time, and says:

     "There--you've heard what he said! Was there any such mark on Peter Wilks' breast?"

     Both of them spoke up and says:

     "We didn't see no such mark."

     "Good!" says the old gentleman. "Now, what you DID see on his breast was a small dim P, and a B (which is an initial he dropped when he was young), and a W, with dashes between them, so: P--B--W"--and he marked them that way on a piece of paper. "Come, ain't that what you saw?"

     Both of them spoke up again, and says:

     "No, we DIDN'T. We never seen any marks at all."

      Well, everybody WAS in a state of mind now, and they sings out: