“The nose-bleed? Good!”
“No, you fool, the key! It dropped down my back.” Alvin squirmed uncomfortably.
“You should have held on to it. You see, the well-known law of gravity——”
Alvin sniffed. “You and your silly old key,” he growled.
“Well, you ought to be glad it wasn’t a lump of ice,” responded Monty soothingly. “There’s a bright side to every cloud, Standart.” Monty dropped his shoes and began undressing. Alvin viewed him aggrievedly from the washstand.
“I don’t believe you ever heard of stopping nose-bleed with a key,” he said, suspiciously. “I never did.”
“That’s mighty poor reasoning, partner. About how long will you be camping around that basin?”
“I—I guess I’m through with it now,” answered Alvin. “I think it’s stopped.” He sniffed experimentally, blew his nose gently, and said, “Humph!” in a surprised tone.
“There you are! Next time, hombre, you’ll believe in my remedies, eh? Would you very much mind removing the basin to the bathroom, and obliterating the evidences of carnage? Give it a good cleaning while you’re at it.”
When Alvin returned he set about disrobing, and in the course of the operation the key which had slipped down his back fell with a tinkle to the floor. Alvin picked it up, and observed it curiously. “Say, where’d you get this?” he asked.