“As far as advertising is concerned,” he began without preamble, “it is entirely unnecessary that I give this show.  There is no man, woman or child in this marvellous commonwealth of ours who is not familiar with the name of Painless Porter, whether from the daily papers, the advertising boards, the street cars, or the elegant red brougham in which I traverse your streets.  My work for you is my best advertisement.  It is unnecessary from that point of view that I spend this money for this show, or that this extra money should be distributed among you by my colleague, Wizard Walker, the Medical Marvel of Modern Times.”

The tall man paused from his business with the hampers and the six boys to bow in acknowledgment.

“No, ladies ‘n’ gentlemen, my purpose is higher.  In the breast of each human being is implanted an instinctive fear of Pain.  It sits on us like a nightmare, from the time we first come to consciousness of our surroundings.  It is a curse of humanity, like drink, and he who can lighten that curse is as much of a philanthropist as George W. Childs or Andrew Carnegie.  I want you to go away and talk about me.  It don’t matter what you say, just so you say something.  You can call me quack, you may call me fakir, you may call me charlatan—­but be sure to call me SOMETHING!  Then slowly the news will spread abroad that Pain is banished, and I can smile in peace, knowing that my vast expenditures of time and money have not been in vain, and that I have been a benefit to humanity.  Wizard Walker, the Medical Marvel of Modern Times, will now attend to the distribution, after which I will pull a few teeth gratis in order to demonstrate to you the wonderful merits of Oxodyne.”

“A dentist!” gasped Bob.

“Yup,” said Baker.  “Not much gasoline-torch-on-the-back-lot in his, is there?”

Bob was hardly surprised, after much preamble and heightening of suspense, to find that the Two Silver Dollars turned out finally to be a pink ticket and a blue ticket, “good respectively at the luxurious offices for one dollar’s worth of dental and medical attention FREE.”

Nor was he more than slightly astounded when the back drop rose to show the stage set glitteringly with nickel-mounted dentist chairs and their appurtenances, with shining glass, white linen, and with a chorus of fascinating damsels dressed as trained nurses and standing rigidly at attention.  Then entered Painless himself, in snowy shirt-sleeves and serious professional preoccupation.  Volunteers came up two by two.  Painless explained obscurely the scientific principles on which the marvelous Oxodyne worked—­by severing temporarily but entirely all communication between the nerves and the brain.  Then much business with a very glittering syringe.

“My lord,” chuckled Baker, “if he fills that thing up, it’ll drown her!”

In an impressive silence Painless flourished the forceps, planted himself square in front of his patient, heaved a moment, and triumphantly held up in full view an undoubted tooth.  The trained nurses offered rinses.  After a moment the patient, a roughly dressed country woman, arose to her feet.  She was smiling broadly, and said something, which the audience could not hear.  Painless smiled indulgently.