"Sure I did! And say, I wish I could see the show!"
"You can to-night after you take me to Mr. Logan," replied Joe. "You know where he is, don't you?"
"Sure I do! Didn't he give me the note to bring youse?"
"Where is he?"
"Down in Kelly's joint. I live next door."
"What is Kelly's joint?"
"A saloon," answered the red-haired boy. "De name on de winders is café, but they don't pronounce it that way—anyhow some of 'em don't. It oughter be cave I guess. It sure is a joint!"
"Is Mr. Logan there?" asked Joe.
"Sure he is. Upstairs in one of de rooms. He's been on a terrible spree he said, but he's sober now and sick—gee, mister, but he sure was sick. Me mudder helped take care of him."
"I'm glad of that," said Joe. "We'll go to him at once. Where is Kelly's—er—café?"