I'm busy." He turned to a large bowl in which he had been mixing the contents of three or four bottles.

And the boy saw his fingers were fiery red.
"What's the matter ?" demanded the youngster, in high excitement.
"That's blood, ain't it ?" "No," denied Higham.

"Blood's light red.

This is crimson.

Remember the time we run in that joke on Daddy Price, by dipping his prize white leghorns in crimson dye, just before the Madison Square Garden Poultry Show?
Well, this is the same stuff." "Do I remember it ?" snickered the boy.