mosquito is deeds, not words!"

   Deep silence fell over the Jersey jungle, broken only by the far-away shrieks of a locomotive as it snorted with fear and hurried out of the State.

   "Kluck-gurgle-kluck-gurgle-gurgle!"

   The committee grasped their repeating rifles and peered into the darkness.

   "Vun of dem is cameing!" whispered Professor Soupnoodle; "remember Metz und strike for der Fatherland!"

   "Kluck-gurgle-kluck-gurgle-gurgle!"

   Gee whiz! the horror of that bitter moment.

   Uncle William removed a short prayer from his mind, and the Dutch Professor started to sing "Die Wacht am Rhine."

   But just then Professor Glueface smacked his lips and put the bottle down.

   "Fine!" he said; "I feel better now."

   Then the rest of the committee knew that it was a false alarm originating in the thirst of the Professor.

   But just then the gloom in front of them began to take form and shape, and they knew this was no false alarm.

   "Zwei!" whispered Professor Soupnoodle.

   "Great Scott!" exclaimed Dr. Glueface, "my idea is right—the Jersey mosquito has a language! I can catch a word now and then. It is something like Sanscrit, only slangier!"

   They listened and watched.

   Approaching them through the gloom could be seen two beautiful specimens of the Kings of the Jersey jungles.

   "It is a male und a female," whispered the Dutch Professor. "I can tell it because he vears someding like a Pajama hat, und she holds vun ving up like a skirt."

   The committee clutched their repeating rifles closer and prepared for the worst.

   "They are engaged to be married," Professor Glueface whispered; "he has just told her that he knows where to get good board and lodging in a Harlem flat. She calls him Percy. Her name is 

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