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[Illustration: She was a dream, all right. ]

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SHORTY McCABE

BySewell Ford

Illustrated byFrancis Vaux Wilson

New YorkGROSSET & DUNLAPPublishers

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Copyright, 1906, by Mitchell Kennerley. 

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SHORTY McCABE

CHAPTER I

Excuse me, mister man, but ain't you--Hello, yourself! Blamed if Ididn't think there was somethin' kind of natural about the looks, as youcome pikin' by. How're they runnin', eh?

Well say, I ain't seen you since we used to hit up the grammar schooltogether. You've seen me, eh? Oh, sure! I'd forgot. That was when youshowed up at the old Athletic club the night I got the belt away fromthe Kid. Doin' sportin' news then, wa'n't you? Chucked all that now, Is'pose?

Oh, I've kept track of _you_, all right. Every time I sees one of yourpieces in the magazines I reads it. And say, some of 'em's kind of punk. But then, you've got to sling out somethin' or other, I expect, or getoff the job. Where do you dig up all of them yarns, anyway? That's whatalways sticks me. You must knock around a whole bunch, and have lotshappen to you. Me? Ah, nothin' ever happens to me. Course, I'm generallyon the move, but it's just along the grub track, and that ain'texcitin'. 

Yes, it's been a couple of years since I quit the ring. Why? Say, don'tever put that up to a has-been. It's almost as bad as compoundin' afelony. I could give you a whole raft of reasons that would sound well, but there's only one that covers the case. There's a knockout comin' tothe best of 'em, if they hang to the game long enough. Some ain'tsatisfied, even after two or three. I was. I got mine, clean and square, and I ain't ashamed of it. I didn't raise any holler about a chanceshot, and I didn't go exhibitin' myself on the stage. I slid into aquiet corner for a month or so, and then I dropped into the only thing Iknew how to do, trainin' comers to go against the champs. It ain't likepullin' down your sixty per cent of the gate receipts, but there's worsepayin' jobs. 

Course, there's times when I finds myself up against it. It was durin'one of them squeezes, not so long ago, that I gets mixed up withLeonidas Dodge, and all that foolishness. Ah, it wa'n't anything worthwastin' breath over. You would? Honest? Well, it won't take long, Iguess. 

You see, just as my wad looks like it had shrunk so that it would rattlearound in a napkin ring, someone passes me the word that Butterfly wasdown to win the third race, at 15 to 1. Now as a general thing I don'tmonkey with the ponies, but when I figured up what a few saw-buckswould do for me at those odds, I makes for the track and takes the highdive. After it was all over and I was comin' back in the train, withonly a ticket where my roll had been, me feelin' about as gay as a Zuluon a cake of ice, along comes this Mr. Dodge, that I didn't know fromnext Tuesday week. 

"Is it as bad as that?" says he, sizin' up the woe on my face. "Becauseif it is they ought to give you a pension. What was the horse?"

"Butterfly, " says I. "Now laugh!"

"I've got a right to, " says he. "I had the same dope. "

Well, you see, that made us almost second cousins by marriage and westarted to get acquainted. I looked him over careful but I couldn'tplace him within a mile. He had points enough, too. The silk hat was aveteran, the Prince Albert dated back about four seasons, but the graygaiters were down to the minute. Being an easy talker, he might havebeen a book agent or a green goods distributor. But somehow his eyesdidn't seem shifty enough for a crook, and no con. Man would have lastedlong wearing the kind of hair that he did. It was a sort of lemonyellow, and he had a lip decoration about two shades lighter, taggin'him as plain as an "inspected" label on a tin trunk. 

"I'm a mitt juggler, " says I, "and they call me Shorty McCabe. What'syour line?"

"I've heard of you, " he says. "Permit me, " and he hands out a pasteboardthat read:

 LEONIDAS MACKLIN DODGE Commissioner-at-Large

"For what?" says I. 

"It all depends, " says Mr. Dodge. "Sometimes I call it a brass polisher, then again it's a tooth-paste. It works well either way. Also it cleanssilver, removes grease spots, and can be used for a shaving soap. It isa product of my own lab'ratory, none genuine without the signature. "

"How does it go as a substitute for beef and?" says I. 

"I've never quite come to that, " says he, "but I'm as close now as it'scomfortable to be. My gold reserve counts up about a dollarthirty-nine. "

"You've got me beat by a whole dollar, " says I. 

"Then, " says he, "you'd better let me underwrite your next issue. "

"There's a friend of mine up to Forty-second Street that ought to begood for fifty, " says I. 

"I've had lots of friendships, off and on, " says he, "but never one thatI could cash in at a pinch. I'll stay by until you try your touch. "

Well, the Forty-second Street man had been gone a month. There wasothers I might have tried, but I didn't like to risk gettin' my fingersfrost-bitten. So I hooks up with Leonidas and we goes out with a gripfull of Electro-Polisho, hittin' the places where they had nickel-platedsigns and brass hand rails. And say! I could starve to death doing that. Give me a week and two pairs of shoes and I might sell a box or so; butDodge, he takes an hour to work his side of the block and shakes out afist full of quarters. 

"It's an art, " says he, "which one must be born to. After this you carrythe grip. "

That's the part I was playin' when we strikes the Tuscarora. Sounds likea parlor car, don't it? But it was just one of those swell bachelorjoints--fourteen stories, electric elevators, suites of two and threerooms, for gents only. Course, we hadn't no more call to go there thanto the Stock Exchange, but Leonidas Macklin, he's one of the kind thatdon't wait for cards. Seein' the front door open and a crowd of men inthe hall, he blazes right in, silk hat on the back of his head, hands inhis pockets, and me close behind with the bag. 

"What's up; auction, row or accident?" says he to one of the mob. 

Now if it had been me that butted in like that I'd had a row on myhands in about two minutes, but in less time than that Leonidas knowsthe whole story and is right to home. Taking me behind a hand-made palm, he puts me next. Seems that some one had advertised in a mornin' paperfor a refined, high-browed person to help one of the same kind kill timeat a big salary. 

"And look what he gets, " says Leonidas, wavin' his hand at the push. "There's more'n a hundred of 'em, and not more'n a dozen that youcouldn't trace back to a Mills hotel. They've been jawing away for anhour, trying to settle who gets the cinch. The chap who did theadvertising is inside there, in the middle of that bunch, and I reckonhe wishes he hadn't. As an act of charity, Shorty, I'm going tostraighten things out for him. Come on. "

"Better call up the reserves, " says I. 

But that wa'n't Mr. Dodge's style. Side-steppin' around to the off edgeof the crowd, just as if he'd come down from the elevator, he calls outgood and loud: "Now then, gentlemen; one side, please, one side! Ah, thank you! In a moment, now, gentlemen, we'll get down to business. "

And say, they opened up for us like it was pay day and he had the cashbox. We brought up before the saddest-lookin' cuss I ever saw out ofbed. I couldn't make out whether he was sick, or scared, or both. Hehad flopped in a big leather chair and was tryin' to wave 'em away withboth hands, while about two dozen, lookin' like ex-bath rubbers or mennurses, were telling him how good they were and shovin' references athim. The rest of the gang was trying to push in for their whack. It wasa bad mess, but Leonidas wasn't feazed a bit. 

"Attention, gentlemen!" says he. "If you will all retire to the room onthe left we will get to work. The room on the left, gentlemen, on theleft!"

He had a good voice, Leonidas did, one of the kind that could go againsta merry-go-round or a German band. The crowd stopped pushin' to listen, then some one made a break for the next room, and in less than a minutethey were all in there, with the door shut between. Mr. Dodge tips methe wink and sails over to the specimen in the chair. 

"You're Mr. Homer Fales, I take it, " says he. 

"I am, " says the pale one, breathing hard, "and who--who the devil areyou?"

"That's neither here nor there, " says Leonidas. "Just now I'm alife-boat. Do you want to hire any of those fellows? If so--"

"No, no, no!" says Homer, shakin' as if he had a chill. "Send them allaway, will you? They have nearly killed me. "

"Away they go, " says Leonidas. "Watch me do it. "

First he has me go in with his hat and collect their cards. Then I calls'em out, one by one, while he stands by to give each one the long-lostbrother grip, and whisper in his ear, as confidential as if he wastelling him how he'd won the piano at a church raffle: "Don't say aword; to-morrow at ten. " They all got the same, even to the Hickey-boyshoulder pat as he passed 'em out, and every last one of 'em faded awaytrying to keep from lookin' tickled to death. It took twenty minutes bythe watch. 

"Now, Mr. Fales, " says Leonidas, comin' to a parade rest in front of thechair, "next time you want to play Santa Claus to the unemployed I'dadvise you to hire Madison Square Garden to receive in. "

That seemed to put a little life into Homer. He hitched himself up off'nthe middle of his backbone, pulled in a yard or two of long legs andpried his eyes open. You couldn't call him handsome and prove it. He hadone of those long, two-by-four faces, with more nose than chin, and apair of inset eyes that seemed built to look for grief. The corners ofhis mouth were sagged, and his complexion made you think of cheese pie. But he was still alive. 

"You've overlooked one, " says he, and points my way. "He wouldn't do atall. Send him off, too. "

"That's where you're wrong, Mr. Fales, " says Leonidas. "This gentlemanis a wholly disinterested party, and he's a particular friend of mine. Professor McCabe, let me introduce Mr. Homer Fales. "

So I came to the front and gave Homer's flipper a little squeeze thatmust have done him as much good as an electric treatment, by the way hesquirmed. 

"If you ever feel ambitious for a little six-ounce glove exercise, " saysI, "just let me know. "

"Thanks, " says he, "thanks very much. But I'm an invalid, you see. Infact, I'm a very sick man. "

"About three rounds a day would put you on your feet, " says I. "There'snothing like it. "

He kind of shuddered and turned to Leonidas. "You are certain that thosemen will not return, are you?" says he. 

"Not before to-morrow at ten. You can be out then, you know, " says Mr. Dodge. 

"To-morrow at ten!" says Homer, and slumps again, all in a heap. "Oh, this is awful!" he groans. "I couldn't survive another!"

It was the worst case of funk I ever saw. We put in an hour trying tobrace him up, but not until we'd promised to stay by over night couldwe get him to breathe deep. Then he was as grateful as if we'd pulledhim out of the river. We half lugs him over to the elevator and takeshim up to his quarters. It wasn't any cheap hang-out, either--nothingbut silk rugs on the floor and parlor furniture all over the shop. Wehad dinner served up there, and it was a feed to dream about--oysters, ruddy duck, filly of beef with mushrooms, and all the frills--whileHomer worries along on a few toasted crackers and a cup of weak tea. 

As Leonidas and me does the anti-famine act Homer unloads his hard-luckwheeze. He was the best example of an all-round invalid I ever stackedup against. He didn't go in for no half-way business; it was neck ornothing with him. He wasn't on the hospital list one day and bumping thebumps the next. He was what you might call a consistent sufferer. 

"It's my heart mostly, " says he. "I think there's a leak in one of thevalves. The doctors lay it to nerves, some of them, but I'm certainabout the leak. "

"Why not call in a plumber?" says I. 

But you couldn't chirk him up that way. He'd believed in that leakyheart of his for years. It was his stock in trade. As near as I couldmake out he'd began being an invalid about the time he should have beenhunting a job, and he'd always had some one to back him up in it untilabout two months before we met him. First it was his mother, and whenshe gave out his old maid sister took her turn. Her name was Joyphena. He told us all about her; how she used to fan him when he was hot, wraphim up when he was cold, and read to him when she couldn't think ofanything else to do. But one day Joyphena was thoughtless enough to gooff somewhere and quit living. You could see that Homer wouldn't everquite forgive her for that. 

It was when Homer tried to find a substitute for Joyphena that histroubles began. He'd had all kinds of nurses, but the good ones wouldn'tstay and the bad ones he'd fired. He'd tried valets, too, but none of'em seemed to suit. Then he got desperate and wrote out that ad. Thatbrought the mob down on him. 

He gave us a diagram of exactly the kind of man he wanted, and from hisplans and specifications we figured out that what Homer was looking forwas a cross between a galley slave and a he-angel, some one who wouldknow just what he wanted before he did, and be ready to hand it outwhenever called for. And he was game to pay the price, whatever it mightbe. 

"You see, " says Homer, "whenever I make the least exertion, or undergothe slightest excitement, it aggravates the leak. "

I'd seen lots who ducked all kinds of exertion, but mighty few with soslick an excuse. It would have done me good to have said so, butLeonidas didn't look at it in that way. He was a sympathizer fromheadquarters; seemed to like nothin' better'n to hear Homer tell how badoff he was. 

"What you need, Fales, " says Leonidas, "is the country, the calm, peaceful country. I know a nice, quiet little place, about a hundredmiles from here, that would just suit you, and if you say the word I'llship you off down there early to-morrow morning. I'll give you a letterto an old lady who'll take care of you better than four trained nurses. She has brought half a dozen children through all kinds of sickness, from measles to broken necks, and she's never quite so contented as whenshe's trotting around waiting on somebody. I stopped there once when Iwas a little hoarse from a cold, and before she'd let me go to bed shemade me drink a bowl of ginger tea, soak my feet in hot mustard water, and bind a salt pork poultice around my neck. If you'd just go downthere you'd both be happy. What do you say?"

Homer was doubtful. He'd never lived much in the country and was afraidit wouldn't agree with his leak. But early in the morning he was upwantin' to know more about it. He'd begun to think of that mob of snaphunters that was booked to show up again at ten o'clock, and it made himnervous. Before breakfast was over he was willing to go almost anywhere, only he was dead set that me and Leonidas should trail along, too. Sothere we were, with Homer on our hands. 

Well, we packed a trunk for him, called a cab, and got him loaded on aparlor car. About every so often he'd clap his hands to his side andgroan: "Oh, my heart! My poor heart!" It was as touchin' as theheroine's speeches to the top gallery. On the way down Leonidas gave usa bird's-eye view of the kind of Jim Crow settlement we were headingfor. It was one of those places where they date things back to the timewhen Lem Saunders fell down cellar with a lamp and set the house afire. 

The town looked it. There was an aggregation of three men, two boys anda yellow dog in sight on Main Street when we landed. We'd wired ahead, so the old lady was ready for us. Leonidas called her "Mother" Bickell. She was short, about as thick through as a sugar barrel, and wore twokinds of hair, the front frizzes bein' a lovely chestnut. But she was anice-spoken old girl, and when she found out that we'd brought along agenuine invalid with a leak in his blood pump, she almost fell on ournecks. In about two shakes she'd hustled Homer into a rocking-chair, wedged him in place with pillows, wrapped a blanket around his feet, andshoved him up to a table where there was a hungry man's layout of clamfritters, canned corn, boiled potatoes and hot mince pie. 

There wasn't any use for Homer to register a kick on the bill-of-fare. She was too busy tellin' him how much good the things would do him, andhow he must eat a lot or she'd feel bad, to listen to any remarks of hisabout toasted crackers. For supper there was fried fish, apple sauce andhot biscuit, and Homer had to take his share. He was glad to go to bedearly. She didn't object to that. 

Mother Bickell's house was right in the middle of the town, with agrocery store on one side and the postoffice on the other. Homer had abig front room with three windows on Main Street. There was a strip ofplank sidewalk in front of the house, so that you didn't miss anyfootfalls. Mother Bickell could tell who was goin' by without lookin'. 

Leonidas and me put in the evening hearin' her tell about some of thethings that had happened to her oldest boy. He'd had a whirl out ofmost everything but an earthquake. After that we had an account of howshe'd buried her two husbands. About ten o'clock we started for bed, droppin' in to take a look at Homer. He was sittin' up, wide awake andlookin' worried. 

"How many people are there in this town?" says he. 

"About a thousand, " says Leonidas. "Why?"

"Then they have all marched past my windows twice, " says Homer. 

"Shouldn't wonder, " says Leonidas. "They've just been to the postofficeand back again. They do that four times a day. But you mustn't mind. Just you thank your stars you're down here where it's nice and quiet. Now I'd go to sleep if I was you. "

Homer said he would. I was ready to tear off a few yards of reposemyself, but somehow I couldn't connect. It was quiet, all right--inspots. Fact is, it was so blamed quiet that you could hear every roosterthat crowed within half a mile. If a man on the other side of town shuta window you knew all about it. 

I was gettin' there though, and was almost up to the droppin'-off place, when some folks in a back room on the next street begins to indulge in afamily argument. I didn't pay much notice to the preamble, but as theywarmed up to it I couldn't help from gettin' the drift. It was allabout the time of year that a feller by the name of Hen Dorsett had beenrun over by the cars up to Jersey City. 

"I say it was just before Thanksgivin', " pipes up the old lady. "I know, 'cause I was into the butcher's askin' what turkeys would be likely tofetch, when Doc Brewswater drops in and says: 'Mornin', Eph. Heard aboutHen Dorsett?' And then he told about him fallin' under the cars. So it_must_ have been just afore Thanksgivin'. "

"Thanksgivin' your grandmother!" growls the old man. "It was in March, along the second week, I should say, because the day I heard of it wasjust after school election. March of '83, that's when it was. "

"Eighty-three!" squeals the old lady. "Are you losin' your mindaltogether? It was '85, the year Jimmy cut his hand so bad at thesawmill. "

"Jimmy wasn't workin' at the mill that year, " raps back the old man. "Hewas tongin' oysters that fall, 'cause he didn't hear a word about Henuntil the next Friday night, when I told him myself. Hen was killed on aMonday. "

"It was on a Saturday or I'm a lunatic, " snaps the old lady. 

Well, they kept on pilin' up evidence, each one makin' the other out tobe a fool, or a liar, or both, until the old man says: "See here, Maria, I'm goin' up the street and ask Ase Horner when it was that HenDorsett was killed. Ase knows, for he was the one Mrs. Dorsett got to goup after Hen. "

"Yes, and he'll tell you it was just before Thanksgivin' of '85, sowhat's the use?" says the old lady. 

"We'll see what he says, " growls the old man, and I heard him strike alight and get into his shoes. 

"Who're you bettin' on?" says Leonidas. 

"Gee!" says I. "Are you awake, too? I thought you was asleep an hourago. "

"I was, " says he, "but when this Hen Dorsett debate breaks loose I cameback to earth. I'll gamble that the old woman's right. "

"The old man's mighty positive, " says I. "Wonder how long it'll bebefore we get the returns?"

"Perhaps half an hour, " says Leonidas. "He'll have to thrash it all outwith Ase before he starts back. We might as well sit up and wait. AnywayI want to see which gets the best of it. "

"Let's have a smoke, then, " says I. 

"Why not go along with the old man?" says Leonidas. "If he finds he'swrong he may come back and lie about it. "

Well, it _was_ a fool thing to do, when you think about it, but somehowLeonidas had a way of lookin' at things that was different from otherfolks. He didn't know any more about that there Hen Dorsett than I did, but he seemed just as keen as if it was all in the family. We hadhustled our clothes on and was sneakin' down the front stairs as easy aswe could when we hears from Homer. 

"I heard you dressing, " says he, "so I got up, too. I haven't beenasleep yet. "

"Then come along with us, " says Leonidas. "It'll do you good. We're onlygoing up the street to find out when it was that the cars struck HenDorsett. "

Homer didn't savvy, but he didn't care. Mainly he wanted comp'ny. Hewhispered to us to go easy, suspectin' that if we woke up Mother Bickellshe'd want to feed him some more clam fritters. By the time we'dunlocked the front door though, she was after us, but all she wanted wasto make Homer wrap a shawl around his head to keep out the night air. 

"And don't you dare take it off until you get back, " says she. Homer wasglad to get away so easy and said he wouldn't. But he was a sight, lookin' like a Turk with a sore throat. 

The old man had routed Ase Horner out by the time we got there, andthey was havin' it hot and heavy. Ase said it wasn't either November norMarch when he went up after Hen Dorsett, but the middle of October. Heknew because he'd just begun shingling his kitchen and the line stormcame along before he got it finished. More'n that, it was in '84, forthat was the year he ran for sheriff. 

"See here, gentlemen, " says Leonidas, "isn't it possible to find someofficial record of this sad tragedy? You'll excuse us, being strangers, for takin' a hand, but there don't seem to be much show of our gettingany sleep until this thing is settled. Besides, I'd like to know myself. Now let's go to the records. "

"I'm ready, " says Ase. "If this thick-headed old idiot here don't thinkI can remember back a few years, why, I'm willing to stay up all nightto show him. Let's go to the County Clerk's and make him open up. "

So we started, all five of us, just as the town clock struck twelve. Wehadn't gone more'n a block, though, before we met a whiskered old relicstumpin' along with a stick in his hand. He was the police force, itseems. Course, _he_ wanted to know what was up, and when he found out hewas ready to make affidavit that Hen had been killed some time in Augustof '81. 

"Wa'n't I one of the pall bearers?" says he. "And hadn't I just drawn myback pension and paid off the mortgage on my place, eh? No use routin'out the Clerk to ask such a fool question; and anyways, he ain't tohome, come to think of it. "

"If you'll permit me to suggest, " says Leonidas, "there ought to be allthe evidence needed right in the cemetery. "

"Of course there is!" says Ase Horner. "Why didn't we think of thatfirst off? I'll get a lantern and we'll go up and read the date on theheadstun. "

There was six of us lined up for the cemetery, the three natives jawin'away as to who was right and who wasn't. Every little ways some onewould hear the racket, throw up a window, and chip in. Most of 'em askedus to wait until they could dress and join the procession. Before we'dgone half a mile it looked like a torchlight parade. The bigger thecrowd got, the faster the recruits fell in. Folks didn't stop to ask anyquestions. They just jumped into their clothes, grabbed lanterns andpiked after us. There was men and women and children, not to mention agood many dogs. Every one was jabberin' away, some askin' what it wasall about and the rest tryin' to explain. There must have been a goodmany wild guesses, for I heard one old feller in the rear ranksquallin' out: "Remember, neighbors, nothin' rash, now; nothin' rash!"

I couldn't figure out just what they meant by that at the time; butthen, the whole business didn't seem any too sensible, so I didn'tbother. On the way up I'd sort of fell in with the constable. Hecouldn't get any one else to listen to him, and as he had a lot ofunused conversation on hand I let him spiel it off at me. Leonidas andHomer were ahead with Ase Homer and the old duffer that started the row, and the debate was still goin' on. 

When we got to the cemetery Homer dropped out and leaned up against thegate, sayin' he'd wait there for us. We piled after Ase, who'd made adash to get to the headstone first. 

"It's right over in this section, " says he, wavin' his lantern, "and Iwant all of you to come and see that I know what I'm talking about whenI give out dates. I want to show you, by ginger, that I've got a mem'rythat's better'n any diary ever wrote. Here we are now! Here's the graveand--well, durn my eyes! Blessed if there's any sign of a headstunhere!"

And there wa'n't, either. 

"By jinks!" says the old constable, slappin' his leg. "That's one on me, boys. Why, Lizzie Dorsett told me only last week that her mother hadthe stun took up and sent away to have the name of her second husbandcut on't. Only last week she told me, and here I'd clean forgot it. "

"You're an old billy goat!" says Ase Horner. 

"There, there!" says Leonidas, soothing him down. "We've all enjoyed thewalk, anyway, and maybe----" But just then he hears something that makeshim prick up his ears. "What's the row back there at the gate?" he asks. Then, turnin' to me, he says: "Shorty, where's Homer?"

"Down there, " says I. 

"Then come along on the jump, " says he. "If there's any trouble lyingaround loose he'll get into it. "

Down by the gate we could see lanterns by the dozen and we could hearall sorts of yells and excitement, so we makes our move on the double. Just as we fetched the gate some one hollers:

"There he goes! Lynch the villain!"

We sees a couple of long legs strike out, and gets a glimpse of a headwrapped up in a shawl. It was Homer, all right, and he had the gangafter him. He took a four-foot fence at a hurdle and was streakin' offthrough a plowed field into the dark. 

"Hi, Fales!" sings out Leonidas. "Come back here, you chump!"

But Homer kept right on. Maybe he didn't hear, and perhaps he was tooscared to stop if he did. All we could do was to get into thefree-for-all with the others. 

"What did he do?" yells Leonidas at a sandy-whiskered man who carried aclothes-line and was shoutin', "Lynch him! Lynch him!" between jumps. 

"Do!" says the man. "Ain't you heard? Why, he choked Mother Bickell todeath and robbed her of seventeen dollars. He's wearin' her shawl now. "

As near as we could make out, the thing happened like this: When thetail enders came rushin' up with all kinds of wild yarns about robbersand such, they catches sight of Homer, leanin' up in the shadow of thegate. Some one holds a lantern up to his face and an old woman spots theshawl. 

"It's Mother Bickell's, " says she. "Where did he get it?"

That was enough. They went for Homer like he'd set fire to a synagogue. Homer tried to tell 'em who he was, and about his heart, but he talkedtoo slow, or his voice wa'n't strong enough; and when they began to planon yankin' him up then and there, without printin' his picture in thepaper, or a trial, he heaves up a yell and lights out for theboarding-house. 

Ten hours before I wouldn't have matched Homer against a one-legged man, but the way he was gettin' over the ground then was worth the price ofadmission. I have done a little track work myself, and Leonidas didn'tshow up for any glue-foot, but Homer would have made the tape ahead ofus for any distance under two miles. He'd cleared the crowd and was backinto the road again, travelin' wide and free, with the shawl streamin'out behind and the nearest avenger two blocks behind us, when out jumpsa Johnny-on-the-spot citizen and gives him the low tackle. He was apussy, bald-headed little duffer, this citizen chap, and not bein' usedto blockin' runs he goes down underneath. Before they could untangle wecomes up, snakes Homer off the top of the heap, and skiddoos for all wehad left in us. 

By the time that crowd of jay-hawkers comes boomin' down to MotherBickell's to view the remains we had the old girl up and settin' at thefront window with a light behind her. They asked each other a lot offoolish questions and then concluded to go home. 

While things was quietin' down we were making a grand rush to get Homerinto bed before he passed in altogether. Neither Leonidas nor me lookedfor him to last more'n an hour or two after that stunt, and we werethinkin' of taking him back in a box. But after he got his breath hedidn't say much except that he was plumb tired. We were still wonderin'whether to send for a doctor or the coroner, when he rolls over with hisface to the wall and goes to sleep as comfortable as a kitten in abasket. 

It was in the middle of the forenoon before any of us shows up forbreakfast. We'd inspected Homer once, about eight o'clock, and found himstill sawin' wood, so we didn't try to get him up. But just as I wasopenin' my second egg down he comes, walkin' a little stiff, butotherwise as good as ever, if not better. 

"How far was it that I ran last night, Mr. Dodge?" says he. 

"About a mile and a half, " says Leonidas, stating it generous. "And itwas as good amateur sprinting as I ever saw. "

Homer cracked the first smile I'd seen him tackle and pulled up to thetable. 

"I'm beginning to think, " says he, "that there can't be much of a leakin my heart, after all. When we get back to town to-night, Mr. McCabe, we'll have another talk about those boxing lessons. Eggs? Yes, thankyou, Mrs. Bickell; about four, soft. And by the way, Dodge, what _was_the date on that gravestone, anyway?"

CHAPTER II

What did we do with Homer, eh? Ah, forget it! Say, soon's he got back totown and found he could navigate 'round by himself, he begins to countup expenses. Then he asks us to put in a bill. 

"Bill!" says I. "What for? I'm no hired man. I've been doin' this forfun. " Leonidas says the same. 

But Homer wouldn't have it that way. He says we've done him a lot ofgood, and lost our valuable time, and he'll feel hurt if we don't lethim make us a little present. With that he pries open a fat leathergreen goods case, paws over a layer of yellow backs two or three inchesthick--and fishes out a couple of ten spots. 

"Stung!" says Leonidas, under his breath. 

"Homer, " says I, shovin' 'em back at him, "if you're as grateful as allthat, I'll tell you what you'd better do--keep these, and found a Homefor Incurable Tight-wads. "

Then we loses him in the crowd, and each of us strikes out for himself. Blessed if I know where Leonidas strayed to, but I'm dead sure of theplace I fetched up at. It was It'ly, North It'ly. Ever been there? Well, don't. Nothin' but dagoes and garlic and roads that run up hill. Say, some day when my roll needs the anti-fat treatment, I'm goin' to sendover there and have 'em put a monument that'll read: "Here's whereShorty McCabe was buried alive for five weeks. "

Doing? Wasn't a blamed thing doing there. We were just assassinatin'time, that's all. But the Boss thought he liked it, for a while, so Ihad to hang on. The Boss? Oh, he's just the Boss. Guess you wouldn'tknow him--he hasn't been cured by three bottles of anything, and isn'tmuch for buyin' billboard space. But he's a star all right. He's got amint somewhere, a little private mint of his own, that runs days andnights and overtime. Scotty mine? No, better'n that--defunctgrandmothers and such. It's been comin' his way ever since he was bigenough to clip a coupon. Don't believe he knows how much he _has_ got, but that don't worry him. He don't even try to spend the gate receipts;just uses what he wants and lets the rest pyramid. 

Course, he's out of my class in a way; but then again, he ain't. The waywe come to hook up was like this: You see, when I quits Homer, I takesthe first thing that comes along, which happens to be the Jericho Lamb. He wants me to train him for his go with Grasshopper Jake, and I did. 

Well, we pulls it off in Denver. The Lamb he bores in like a stonecrusher for five rounds. Then he stops a cross hook with his jaw and isjarred some. That brings out the yellow. Spite of all I could say, hestops rushin' and plays for wind and safety. Think of that, with theGrasshopper as groggy as a five days old calf! Well, I saw what wascoming to _him_, right there. When the bell rings I chucks my towel to arubber and quits. I hadn't hired out for no wet nurse, and I told thecrowd so. 

Just as I was makin' my sneak this quiet-speakin' chap falls inalongside and begins to talk to me. First off I sized him up for one ofthem English Johnnies that had lost his eyeglass. But that's where I wasdead wrong. He wasn't no Johnnie, and he wasn't no tinhorn sport. But hewas a new one on me. They don't grow many like him, I guess, so nowonder I didn't get wise right away. 

"Think the Lamb's all in?" says he. 

"All in!" says I. "He never had anything to put in. He was licked beforethe bell tapped. And me trainin' him for five weeks! I'm goin' to kickmyself all the way back to New York. "

"I'll help you, " says he. "I backed that Lamb of yours to win. "

"How much?" says I. 

"Oh, only a few hundred. "

"But you ain't seen him licked yet, " says I. 

"I'll take your word for it, " says he. 

Say, that was no tinhorn play, was it? He goes off and leaves his goodmoney up, just on a flier like that. 

"You're the real goods, " says I. 

"I can return the sentiment, " says he. 

So we took the midnight East. When we got the morning papers at Omaha wesaw that the Lamb only lasted half-way through the seventh, and'possumed the count at that. Well, we got some acquainted before we hitChicago, and by the time we'd landed in Jersey City I'd signed articleswith him for a year. He calls it secretary, but I holds out for sparrin'partner. 

Oh, he can handle the mitts some, all right; none of your parlorY. M. C. A. Business, either, but give and take. He strips at one hundredand forty and can stand punishment like a stevedore. But, of course, there's no chance of ever gettin' him on the platform. He likes to go hisfour rounds before dinner, just to take the drab coloring off the world ingeneral. That's the way he puts it. 

Take him all around, he's a thoroughbred. I know that much, but afterthat I don't follow him. I used to wonder sometimes. Give most Johnnieshis pile and turn 'em loose, and what would they do? They'd wear out theclub window-sills, and take in pink teas, and do the society turn. Butnot for him. He's a mixer, the Boss is. He wants to see things, allkinds. 

Sometimes he lugs me along and sometimes he don't. It all depends onwhether I'd fit in. When he heads for Fifth Avenue I know I'm let out. But when he gets into a sack coat and derby hat I'm bettin' that maybewe'll fetch up somewheres on the East Side. Perhaps it'll be the grandannual ball of the Truck Drivers' Association, or just one of themAnarchist talkfests in the back room of some beer parlor. There's notelling. We may drink muddy coffee out of dinky brass cups with a lot ofSyrian rug sellers down on Washington Street, or drop into the middle ofa gang of sailors down on Front Street. 

And I'm no bodyguard, mind. The Boss ain't in much need of that. But helikes to have some one to talk to, and I guess most of his friends don'tgo in for such promiscuous visitin' lists as he does. I like it wellenough, but where _he_ gets any fun out of it I can't see. I put it upto him once, and what do you suppose he says? Asks me if I ever heard ofa duck by the name of Panzy de Lean. 

"Sounds kind of familiar, " says I. "Don't he run a hotel or somethingdown to Palm Beach?"

"You're warm, " says the Boss, "but you've mixed your dates. Old Panzystruck the east coast about four hundred years before our friend Flaglerannexed it. And he wasn't in the hotel business. Exploring was his line. He was looking for a new kind of mineral water that he was going to callthe Elixir of Life. Well, in some ways Panzy and I are alike. "

It was a josh, all right, that he was handin' out, but he meantsomethin' by it, for the Boss ain't the kind to talk just for the sakeof making a noise. I never let on but what I was next. Later in theseason I had a chance to come back at him with it, for along in Februarywe got under way for Palm Beach ourselves. 

"Goin' to take a hack at the 'lixir business?" I says. 

"No, Shorty, " says he. "Just going to dodge a few blizzards and watchthe mob. "

But he didn't like it much, being in that push, so we took a jump overto Bermuda, where everything's so white it makes your eyes ache. Thatdidn't suit him, either. 

"Shorty, " says he one day, "you didn't sign for any outside tour, butI've got the go fever bad. Can you stand it for awhile in foreignparts?"

"I'm game, " says I, not knowing what I was to be up against. 

So we hiked back to New York and Mister 'Ankins--he's the lady-like gentthat stays home an' keeps our trousers creased, an' juggles the laundrybag and so forth, when we're there--Mr. 'Ankins he packs a couple ofsteamer trunks and off we starts. 

Well, we hit a lot of outlandish places, like Paris and Berlin; andfinally, when things began to warm up some, and I knew by the calendarthat the hokey-pokey men had come out on the Bowery, we lands in MonteCarlo. Say, I'd heard a lot about Monte Carlo on and off--there was asong about it once, you know--but if that's the best imitation of PhilDaly's they can put up over there, they'd better go out of business. Notthat the scenery isn't bang-up and the police protection O. K. , but thegame--well, I've seen more excitement over a ten-cent ante. 

The Boss didn't care much for that sort of thing anyway. He touched 'emup for a stack or two, but almost went to sleep over it. It wasn't untilOld Blue Beak butted in that our visit began to look interestin'. He wasa count, or a duke, or something, with a name full of i's and l's, but Icalled him Blue Beak for short. The Boss said for a miniature wordpainting that couldn't be bettered. Never saw a finer specimen ofhand-decorated frontispiece in my life. It wasn't just red, nor purple. It was as near blue as a nose can get. Other ways, he was a tall, skinnyold freak, with a dyed mustache and little black eyes as shifty as a foxterrier's. He was as polite, though, as a book agent, and as smooth asthe business side of a banana skin. 

"What's his game, " says I to the Boss, after Blue Beak and him hadswapped French conversation for an hour. "Is it gold bricks or greengoods?"

"My friend, the count, " says the Boss, "wants to rent us a castle, allfurnished and found; a genuine antique, with a pedigree that runs backto Marc Antony. "

"A castle!" says I. "What's that the cue to? And how did he guess youwere a come-on?"

"Every American is a come-on, Shorty, " says the Boss. "But this is a newproposition to me. However, I mean to find out. I've told him to comeback after dinner. "

And old Blue Beak had his memory with him, all right. He came back. Heand the Boss had a long session of it. In the morning the Boss says tome:

"Shorty, throw out your chest; you're going to live in a castle for awhile. "

Then he told me how it happened. Blue Beak wasn't any con. Man at all, just one of those hard-up gents whose names look well in a list ofguests, but don't carry weight with the paying teller. He was in such arush to get the ranch off his hands, though, that price didn't seem tofigure much. That's what made the Boss sit up and take notice. He was agreat one for wanting to know why. 

"We'll start to-day, " says he. 

So off we goes, moseyin' down into It'ly on a bum railroad, staying atbummer hotels, and switching off to a rickety old chaise behind a pairof animated frames that showed the S. P. C. A. Hadn't got as far asIt'ly yet. Think of riding from the Battery to White Plains in a FifthAvenue stage! That would be a chariot race to what we took before wehove in sight of that punky castle. After that it was like climbingthree sets of Palisades, one top of the other, on a road that did thecorkscrew all the way. 

"That's your castle, is it?" says I, rubberin' up at it. "Looks like astorage warehouse stranded on Pike's Peak. Gee, but I wouldn't like tofall out of one of those bedroom windows! You'd never hit anything foran hour. Handy place to have company, though; wouldn't have to put onthe potatoes until you saw 'em coming. So that's a castle, is it? Idon't wonder old Blue Beak had a lot of conversation to unload. If Ilive up there all summer I shall accumulate enough talk to last me therest of my life. "

"Oh, I don't imagine we'll be lonesome, " puts in the Boss. "I fancy Icaught sight of one or two of our neighbors on the way. "

"You did?" says I. "Where?"

"Behind the rocks, " says he, kind of snickering. 

But I never savvied. I'd had my eyes glued to that dago Waldorf-Astoriabalanced up there on that toothpick of a mountain. I had a batty ideathat the next whiff of breeze would jar it loose. But when they'd openedup a gate like the double doors of an armory, and let us in, I forgotall that. Say, that castle was the solidest thing I ever run across. Thewalls were so thick that the windows looked like they were set at theend of tunnels. In the middle was a big court, such as they have inthese swell new apartment houses, and a lot of doors and windows openedon that. 

"Much as 'leven rooms and bath, eh?" says I. 

"The Count assures me that there are two hundred and odd rooms, notreckoning the dungeons, " said the Boss. "I hope we'll find one or two ofthem fit to live in. "

We did, just about that. A white-headed old villain, who looked as ifhe'd just escaped from a "Pirates of Penzance" chorus--Vincenzo, hecalled himself--took our credentials and then showed us around the shop. There was a dining-room about the size of the Grand Central train shed. Say, a Harlem man would have wept for joy at sight of it. And there wasa picture gallery that had Steve Brodie's collection beat a mile. As forbedrooms, there was enough to accommodate a State convention. The onlyrunning water in sight, though, was in the fountain out in the court, and the place looked as though when the gas man made his last call he'dtaken the fixtures along with the meter. 

Yet the Boss seemed to be tickled to death with the whole shootingmatch. At dinner that night he made me sit at one end of the dining-roomtable while he sat at the other, and we were so far apart we had toshout at each other when we talked. The backs of some of thosedining-room chairs were more than eight feet tall. It was like leaningup against a billboard. The waiters looked like stage villains out of ajob, and whenever they passed the potatoes I peeled my eye for a knifeplay. It didn't come though. Nothing did. 

We put in nearly a week rummaging through that moldy old barracks. Itwas three days before I could come down to breakfast without gettinglost. The Boss found a lot to look at and paw over; old books andpictures, rusty tin armor and such truck. He even poked around in thecoal cellars that they called dungeons. 

I liked being up in the towers best. I'd go up there and look about duewest, where New York was the last time I saw it. I never wanted wingsquite so bad as I did then. And, say, I'd given up a month's salary fora sporting extra some nights. Dull? Why, there are crossroads up inSullivan County that would seem like the Tenderloin alongside of thatplace. 

Funny thing, though, was that the Boss was so stuck on it. He'd gasabout the lakes, and the mountains, and the sky, and all that, pointing'em out to me as if they were worth seeing, when I'd seen better'n thatmany a time, painted on back drops--and could get away from 'em when Iwanted. But here it was a case of nowhere to stay but in. You couldn'tgo pikin' around the landscape without falling off the edge. 

Guess I'd have gone clean nutty if it hadn't been for the little gloveplay we did every afternoon. We had some of the chorus hands fix up anice lot of straw in a corner of the courtyard, so's to sort ofupholster the paving stones, and after we got used to the new foot-workit was almost as good as a rubber mat. 

We'd been having a gingery little go one day, with the whole crew of thecastle, from head purser down to the second assistant pan wrastler, holding their breath in the background, and I was playing shower bathfor the Boss with a leather bucket, dipping out of the fountain pool andsousing it over him, when I spots a deadhead in the audience. 

She'd been playin' peek-a-boo behind one of them big stone pillars, butI guess she had got so interested that she forgot and stepped out intothe open. She was a native, all right; but say, she wasn't any back-rowdago girl. She was in the prima donna class, she was. Ever see Melbamade up for the "Carmen" act? Well, this one was about half Melba'ssize, but for shape and color she had her stung to a whisper; and as forwardrobe, she had it all on. Gold hoops in her ears, tinkly things onher jacket, and a rainbow dress with the reds and greens leading thefield. Eyes were her strong point, though--regular forty candle powers. She had the current all switched on, too, and a plumb centre range onthe Boss. 

Now he wasn't exactly in reception costume, the Boss wasn't. When he'dknocked off his runnin' shoes it left him in a pair of salmon trunksthat cleared the knees considerable. He'd made a fine ad. For a physicalculture school, just as he stood; for he's well muscled, and hisunderpinning mates up, and he don't interfere when he walks. The coldwater had brought out the baby pink all over him, and he looked like oneof these circus riders does on the four sheet posters. He had thelime-light, too, for a streak of sun comin' down between the towers justhit him. I see the girl wasn't missin' any of these points. It wasn'tany snap-shot she was takin', it was a time exposure. 

"Who's your lady friend in the wings?" says I to the Boss. 

"Where?" says he. 

I jerks my thumb at her. For a minute there wasn't a word said. The Bosswasn't able, I guess, and the girl never moved an eyelash. Then he yellsfor the bath towel and makes a break inside, me after him. When we'drubbed down and got into our Broadway togs, we chases back and organizesourselves into a board of inquiry. Who was she--regular boarder, or justtransient? Where did she come from? And why? Likewise how, trolley, subway, or balloon?

But I'm blessed if that whole gang didn't go as mum as a lot of railroadhands after a smash-up. Why, they hadn't seen no such lady, cross theirhearts they hadn't. Maybe it was old Rosa, yes? And Rosa a sylph thatwould fit tight in a pork barrel! A goat, then?

"Let's give 'em the third degree, " says I. 

So we done it, locked 'em all in a room and put 'em on the carpet one byone. They was scared stiff, too stiff to talk. All but old Vincenzo, thewhite-haired old pirate the count had left in charge. He was a lovelypeagreen under the gills, but he made a stagger at putting up a game oftalk. No, he hadn't seen no one. He had been watching their excellenciesin their little affair of honor. Still, he couldn't swear that _we_hadn't seen some one. Folks did see things at the castle; he had seensights himself, though generally after dark. He remembered a song abouta beautiful young lady who, back in the seventeen hundred and something, had--

But I shut him off there. This fairy might have seen seventeen summers, or maybe eighteen, but she was no antique. I could kiss the Book onthat. She was a regular Casino broiler. I made a point of this. Itdidn't feaze the old sinner, though. He went on perjuring himself ascheerful as a paid witness, and he'd have broken the Ananias record ifhe'd had time. 

"That will do for now, " says the Boss, in a kind of"step-up-front-there" tone. "If you don't know who she was just now, we'll let it go at that. But by to-morrow you'll know the whole story. It'll be healthier for all hands if you do. "

Vincenzo, though, didn't have a proper notion of what he was up against. Next day he knew less than the day before. He was ready to swear thewhole outfit, by all the saints in the chapel, that there hadn't been agirl on the premises. 

"Bring him along, Shorty, " says the Boss, starting downstairs. "There'sa hole in the sub-cellar that I want this old pirate to look through. "

If that hole had been cut for an ash chute it was a dandy, for themuzzle of it was a mile more or less from anything solider'n air. Weskewered Vincenzo's arms to the small of his back and let him down bythe heels until he had a bird's-eye view of three counties. Then wepulled him up and tested his memory. 

It worked all right. That upside-down movement had shook up his thoughtworks. He was as anxious to testify as the front benchers at a Bowerymission on soup day. We loosened the cords a bit, set him where he couldsee the chute plain, and told him to blaze away. 

Lucky the Boss knows Eye-talyun, for old Vincenzo couldn't separatehimself from English fast enough. But they had me guessing what it wasall about. I couldn't make out why the old chap had to use up all thedago words in the box just to tell who was the lady that had the privateview. Once in a while the Boss would jab in a question, and then oldVincenzo would work his jaw all the faster. When it was all over theBoss looks at me as pleased as though he'd got money from home, andsays:

"Shorty, how's your nerve?"

"Not much below par, " says I. "Why?"

"Because, " says he, "they're after us--brigands. "

"Brigands!" says I. "Tut, tut! Don't tell me that this dead and alivecountry can show up anything like that. "

"It can, " says he. "The woods are full of 'em. "

Then he gives me the framework of what old Vincenzo had been tellinghim. The prima donna girl, it seems, was a lady brigandess, daughter ofthe heavy villain that led the bunch. She'd come in to size us up andmake an estimate as to what we'd fetch on a forced sale. They hadspotted us from the time we registered and had been hangin' aroundoutside laying for us to separate. Their game was to pinch one of us anddo business with the other on a cash basis--wanted some one left whocould go away and cash a check, you see. When we didn't show nodisposition to take after dinner promenades or before breakfast ramblesthey ups and tell Vincenzo that they wants the run of the castle andpromises to toast his toes if they don't get it. 

They don't have to promise but once, for Vincenzo has been through themill. It was this kind of work that had queered the count. According toVincenzo, old Blue Beak had been Pat-Crowed regular every season forfive summers, and the thing had got on his nerves. 

Well, Vincenzo lets three or four of 'em in one day just as the Boss andme were swappin' uppercuts and body punches in the courtyard. Maybe theydidn't like the looks of things. Anyway, they hauled off and sent forthe main guy, who was busy down the line a-ways. He comes up with thereserves, and his first move is to send the girl in to get a line on us. And that was the way things stood up to date. 

"Who'd a thought it?" says I. "The way she looked at you I suspicionedshe'd marked you out as something good to eat. "

That turned the Boss red behind the ears. "I'm afraid we'll have to askfor her visiting card the next time she calls, " says he. "Come, Vincenzo, I want you to show me about locking up. "

After that no one came or went without showing a pass, and I luggedabout four pounds of brass keys around, for we didn't want to be stoodup by a gang of moth-eaten brigands loaded with old hardware. Theycovered close by day, but at night we could see 'em sneakin' around thewalls, like a bunch of second-story men new to their job. Neither theBoss nor I had a gun, never having had a call for such a thing, but wefound a couple of old blunderbusses hung up in the hall, reg'larjunkshop relics, and we unlimbered them, loading with nails, scrap iron, and broken glass. 'Course, we couldn't hit anything special, but itbroke the monotony for both sides. Once in a while they'd shoot back, just out of politeness, but I don't believe any of 'em ever took anymedal at a schuetzenfest. 

This lasted for two or three nights. It wasn't such bad fun, either, forus. The party of the second part, though, wasn't off on a vacation, likewe were. They were out rustling for money to pay the landlord and thebutcher, and they were losing time. Hard working lot of brigands theywere, too. I wouldn't have monkeyed around after dark on thatperpendicular landscape for twice the money, and I don't believe any of'em drew more than union rates. Fact is, I was getting to feel almostsorry for 'em, when one night something happened to give me the marbleheart. 

I'd been making my rounds with the brass foundry, seeing that all thetramp chains were on, putting out the cat, and coming the "Shore Acres"act, when I sees something dark skiddoo across the court to where theBoss stood smoking in the moonshine by the fountain. I does a sprint, too, and was just about to practise a little Eleventh Avenue jiu-jitsuon whoever it was--when flip goes a piece of black lace, and there wasthe lady brigandess, some out of breath, but still in the game. 

She opens up on the Boss in a stage whisper that whirls him around as ifhe'd been on a string. Not wantin' to butt in ahead of my number, I sortof loafed around just outside the ropes, but near enough to block afoul. Now, I don't know just all they said, nor how they said it, butfrom what the Boss told me afterward they must have had a nice littleconfab there that would be the real thing for grand opera if some onewould only set it to music. 

Seems that she'd found out, the lady brigandess had, that the old man'sgang had run across a bricked-up passageway down in one corner of thebasement, a kind of All-Goods-Must-Be-Delivered-Here gate that had beenthrown into the discards. Of course, they'd gone to work to open it up, and they'd got as far as some iron bars that called for a hack-saw. They'd sent off for their breaking and entering kit, meaning to finishthe job next day. The following night they'd planned to drop inunexpected, sew the Boss up in his blanket before he could make a move, and cart him off until I could bail him out with a peck or so of realmoney. 

The rest of the scene the Boss never would fill in just as it came offthe bat, but I managed to piece out that the brigandess, sizing us upfor a couple of pikers, reckoned that we wouldn't pan out much cash, andthat the Boss might be used some rough by the gang. That prospect notsetting well on her mind, she rolls out the back door of their camp, makes a swift trip around to our new private entrance, squeezes throughthe bars, and comes up to put us wise. 

Must have been just as she'd got to them lines that the Boss begantaking a good look at her. I saw him gazin' into her eyes like he'dtaken out a search warrant. Don't know as I could blame him much, either. She was a top liner. Wasn't anything coy or kittenish about her. She stood up and gave him as good as he sent. Next I see him make theonly fool play but one that I ever knew the Boss to make--reg'lar kidtrick. 

"Here, " says he, pulling off the big carbuncle ring he always wears, "that's to remember me by. "

She didn't even look at it. No joolry for hers. Instead, she sayssomething kind of low and sassy, pokes her face up, and begins topucker. 

The Boss he sort of side steps and squints over his shoulder at me. Now, I'm not sayin' what I'd do if a girl like that gave me the Cissy Loftuseye. It ain't up to me. But I know what I'd want the crowd to do--and Idid it. 

When I turned around again they was just at the breakaway, so it musthave been one of the by-by forever kind, such as you see at the dock onsailing day. Then she took us down to show us how she came in, andsqueezed herself through the bars. They shook hands just once, and thatwas all. 

That night there was a grand howl from the brigands. They had put inhours of real work, the kind they'd figured on cutting out after theygot into the brigand business, only to run into a burglar-proof shutterwhich we had put up. They pranced around to the front gate and shooktheir fists at us, and called us American pigs, and invited us to comeout and have our ears trimmed, and a lot of nonsense like that. I wantedto turn loose the blunderbusses, but the Boss said: "No, let 'em enjoythemselves. "

"How long do you suppose they'll keep that sort of thing up?" says I. 

"Vincenzo says some of them will stay around all summer unless we buythem off, " says he. 

"That's lovely, " says I, "for anyone that's dead gone on the life here. "

"I'm not, " says he. "I can't get out of here too quick, now. "

"Oh, ho!" says I, meaning not much of anything. 

Being kept awake some by their racket that night, I got to thinking howwe could give that gang of grafters the double cross. There wasn't anyuse making a back-alley dash for it, as we didn't know the lay of theland and they were between us and New York. But most of the fancythinking I've ever done has been along that line--how to get back toBroadway. Along toward morning I throws five aces at a flip--turns up anidee that had been at the bottom of the deck. "It's a winner!" says I, and goes to sleep happy. 

After breakfast I digs through my steamer trunk and hauls out afour-ounce can of aluminum paint that the intelligent Mr. 'Ankins hadmistook for shavin' soap and put in before we left home. Then I picksout a couple of suits of that tin armor in the hall, a medium-sized one, and a short-legged, forty-fat outfit, and I gets busy with my brush. 

"What's up?" says the Boss, seeing me slinging on the aluminum paint. 

"Been readin' a piece on 'How to Beautify the House' in the 'Ladies'Home Companion, '" says I. "Got any burnt-orange ribbon about you?"

It was a three-hour job, but when I was through I'd renovated up thatcast-off toggery so that it looked as good as if it had been just pickedfrom the bargain counter. Then I waited for things to turn up. Thebrigands opened the ball as soon as it was dark. They'd rigged up abattering-ram and allowed they meant to smash in our front door. TheBoss laughed. 

"That gate looks as if it had stood a lot of that kind of boy's play, and I guess it's good for a lot more, " says he. "Now, if they were nothopelessly medieval they would try a stick of dynamite. "

We could have poured hot water down on them, or dropped a few bricks, but we didn't. We just let them skin their knuckles and strain theirbacks on the battering-ram. About moonrise I sprung my scheme. 

"What do you say to throwing a scare into that bunch of back numbers?"says I. 

"How?" says the Boss. 

I led him down to the court, where I'd laid out the plated tinware todry. 

"Think you can fit yourself into some of that boiler plate?" says I. 

That hit the Boss in the short ribs. We tackled the job off-hand, mestrappin' a section on him, and he clampin' another on me. It was likedressing for a masquerade in the dark, neither of us ever having wornsteel boots or Harveyized vests before. Some of the joints didn't seemto fit any too close, and a lot of it I suppose we got on hindside frontand upside down, but in the course of half an hour we were harnessed forfair, including a conning tower apiece on our heads. Then we did themarch past just to see how we looked. 

"With a little white muslin you'd do to go on as the ghost in 'Hamlet, '"says the Boss, through his front bars. 

"You sound like a junk wagon comin' down the street, " says I, "andyou're a fair imitation of a tinshop on parade. Shall we go for amidnight stroll?"

"I'm ready, " says the Boss. 

Grabbing up a couple of two-handed skull splitters that I'd laid out tofinish our costumes, we swung open the gate and sasshayed out, calm anddignified, into the middle of that bunch of brigands. 

It wasn't hardly a square deal, of course, they being brought up on asteady diet of ghost stories; and I reckon there was a spooky look aboutus that sent a frappé wireless up and down those dago spines. But, afterall, it was the banana oil the aluminum paint was mixed with that turnedthe trick. Smelled it, haven't you? If there's any perfume fitter for alost soul than attar of banana oil, it hasn't been discovered. Firstthey went bug-eyed. Next they sniffed. At the second sniff one bigduffer, with rings in his ears and a fine assortment of second-handpepper-boxes in his sash, digs up a scared yell that would have donecredit to one of these Wuxtre-e-e! Wuxtre-e-e! boys, and then heskiddoos into the rocks like some one had tied a can to him. That set'em all off, same's when you light the green cracker at the end of thebunch. Some yelled, some groaned, and some made no remarks. But theyfaded. Inside of two minutes by the clock we had the front yard toourselves. 

"Curtain!" says I to the Boss. "This is where we do a littledisappearing ourselves, before they get curious and come back. "

We hustled into the castle, pried ourselves out of our tin roofing, chucked our dunnage into old Blue Beak's best carryall, hitched acouple of auction-house steppers, and lit out on the town trail withoutso much as stopping to shake a da-da to old Vincenzo. 

I didn't breathe real deep, though, until we'd fetched sight of a littleplace where the mountain left off and the dago police were supposed tobegin. Just before we got to the first house we sees something up on arock at one side of the road. Day was comin', red and sudden, and we sawwho it was on the rock--the lady brigandess. Sure thing!

Now don't tax me with how she got there. I'd quit trying to keep caseson her. But there she was waiting for us. As we got in line she gluedher eyes on the Boss and tossed him a lip-thriller with a realJuliet-Roxane movement. And the Boss blew one back. Well, that suitedme, all right, so far as it went. But as we made for a turn in the roadthe Boss reached out for the lines and pulled in our pair of skates. Then he turns and looks back. So did I. She was still there, for a fact, and it kind of looked as if she was holding her arms out toward him. 

"By God, Shorty, " says the Boss, breathing quick and talking through histeeth, "I'm going back. "

"Sure, " says I, "to New York, " and I had a half-Nelson on him before heknew it was coming. We went four miles that way, too, the horsesfinding the road, before I dared let him up. I looked for trouble then. But it had been all over in a breath, just an open-and-shut piece ofbattiness, same as fellers have when they jump a bridge. He was meekenough the rest of the way, but sore. I couldn't pry a word out of himanyway. Not until we got settled down in the smoking-room of aMediterranean steamer headed for Sandy Hook did he shake his trance. 

"Shorty, " says he, givin' me the friendly palm, "I owe you a lot morethan apologies. "

"Well, I ain't no collection agency, " says I. "Sponge it off. "

"I was looking for the Elixir, " says he, "and--and I found it. "

"I can get all the 'Lixir I want, " says I, "between the East River andthe North, and I don't need no cork-puller, either. "

That's me. I've been back a week now, and even the screech of the Ltrains sounds good. Everything looks good, and smells good, and feelsgood. You don't have to pinch yourself to find out whether or not you'realive. You know all the time that you're in New York, where there'ssomethin' doin' twenty hours in the day. 

It'ly! Oh, yes, I want to go there again--when I get to be a mummy. 

CHAPTER III

Say, you can't always tell, can you? Here a couple of weeks back Ithought I'd wiped It'ly off the map. We'd settled down in this littleold burg, me and the Boss and Mister 'Ankins, nice and comfortable, andnot too far from Broadway. And we was havin' our four o'clock teas withthe mitts, as reg'lar as if there was money comin' to us for each round, when this here Sherlock proposition turns up. 

Mister 'Ankins, he was the first to spot it, and he comes trottin' inwhere we was prancin' around the mat, his jaw loose, and his eyebrowspropped up like Eddie Foy's when he wears his salary face. 

"Hit's most hunnacountable, sir, " says he. 

"Time out!" says I, blockin' the Boss's pet upper cut. "Mister 'Ankinsseems to have something on the place where his mind ought to be. "

"Hankins, " says the Boss, putting down his guard reluctant, "haven't Itold you never to----"

"Yes, sir; yes, sir, " says Mister 'Ankins, "but there's that houtrageousthing fawst to the door and, Lor' 'elp me, sir, Hi cawnt pull it hoff. "

The Boss he looks at me, and I looks at the Boss, and then we both looksat Mister 'Ankins. Seein' as how he couldn't reveal much with thatcheese pie face of his, we goes and takes a look at the door. It wasthe outside one, just as you gets off the elevator. 

And there _was_ something there, too; the dizziest kind of a visitin'card that was ever handed out, I suspicion, in those particular swellchambers for single gents. It was a cuff, just a plain, every day wristchafer, pinned up with the wickedest little blood letter that ever cameoff the knife rack. Half an inch of the blade stuck through the panel, so the one who put it there must have meant that it shouldn't blow away. The Boss jerks it loose, sizes it up a minute, and says:

"Stiletto, eh? Made in Firenze--that's Florence. Shorty, have you anyfriends from abroad that are in the habit of leaving their cutleryaround promiscuous?"

"I know folks as far west as Hoboken, if that's what you mean, " says I, "but there ain't none of them in the meat business. "

Well, we takes the thing inside under the bunch light and has anothersquint. 

"Here's writin' in red ink, " says I, and holds up the cuff. 

"Read it, " says the Boss. 

"I could play it better on a flute, " says I. "You try. "

We didn't have to try hard. The minute he skinned his eye over that hisjaw goes loose like he'd stopped a body wallop with his short ribs. 

"It's Tuscan, " says he, "and it means that someone's in trouble andwants help. "

"Do they take this for police headquarters, or a Charity Organization?"says I. "Looks to me like a new kind of wireless from the wash lady. Whydon't you pay her?"

"That's one of my cuffs, " says the Boss. 

"It's too well ventilated to get into the bag again, " says I. 

"Shorty, " says he, lettin' my Joe-Weber go over his shoulder, "do youknow where I saw that cuff last? It was in North Italy!"

Then he figured out by the queer laundry marks just where he'd shed thisidentical piece of his trousseau. We'd left it, with a few momentoesjust as valuable, when we made that quick move away from that punky oldpalace after our little monkey shine with the brigands. 

"You don't mean--?" says I. But there wa'n't no use wasting breath onthat question. He was blushin'. We fiddled some on its having come fromold Vincenzo, or maybe from Blue Beak, the Count that rented us theplace; but the minute we tied that cuff up with the castle we knew thatthe one who sent it meant to ring up a hurry call on us for help, andthat it wasn't anybody but the Lady Brigandess herself, the one thatput us next and kept the Boss from being sewed up in a blanket. 

"That's a Hey Rube for me, " says I. "How about-cher?"

But the Boss was kicking off his gym. Shoes and divin' through hisshirt. In five minutes by the watch we were dressed for slootin'. 

"I know a Dago roundsman--" says I. 

"No police in this, " says the Boss. 

"Guess you're right, " says I. "Too much lime-light and too littleheadwork. We'll cut the cops out. Where to first?"

"I'm going to call on the Italian consul, " says the Boss. "He's a friendof mine. "

So we opened the sloot business with a ride in one of those heavy weight'lectric hansoms, telling the throttle pusher to shove her wide open. Maybe we broke the speed ord'nance some, but we caught Mr. Consul on thefly, just as he was punchin' the time card. He wore a rich set of PeterCooper whiskers, but barring them he was a well finished old gent, witha bow that was an address of welcome all by itself. The way that heshoved out leather chairs you'd thought he was makin' a present of 'emto us. 

But the Boss hadn't any time to waste on flourishes. We got right downto cases. He wanted to know about where the Tuscans usually headed forwhen they left Ellis Island, what sort of gangs they had in New York andwhat kind of Black Hand deviltry they were most given to. He asked ahundred questions and never answered one. Then he shook hands with Mr. Consul and we chased out. 

"It looks like the Malabistos, " says the Boss. "They have a kind ofheadquarters over a basement restaurant. Perhaps they've shut her upthere. We'll take a look at the place anyway. "

A lot of good it did us, too. The spaghetti works was in full blast, with a lot of husky lowbrows goin' in and out, smokin' cheroots half aslong as your arm, and acting as if the referee had just declared a draw. The opening for a couple of bare fisted investigators wasn't what youmight call promisin'. Not having their grips and passwords, we didn'tfeel as though we could make good in their lodge. 

"I could round up a gang and then we could rush 'em, " says I. 

"That wouldn't do, " says the Boss. "Strategy is what we need here. "

"I'm just out of that, " says I. 

"Perhaps there's a back door, " says the Boss. 

So we moseys around the block, huntin' for a family entrance. But thatain't the way they build down in Mulberry Bend. They chucks their oldrookeries slam up against one another, to keep 'em from fallin' over, Iguess. Generally though, there's some sort of garlic flue through themiddle of the block, but you need a balloon to find it. 

"Hist!" says I. "Hold me head while I thinks a thunk. Didn't I come downhere once to watch a try-out? Sure! And it was pulled off in thepalatial parlors of Appetite Joe Cardenzo's Chowder Association, thesame being a back room two flights up. Now if we could dig up AppetiteJoe--"

We did. He was around the corner playing 'scope for brandied plums, buthe let go the cards long enough to listen to my fairy tale about wantin'a joint where I could give my friend a private lesson. 

"Sure!" said Joe, passing out the key, "but you breaka da chair I chargafeefty cent. "

There were two back windows and the view wasn't one you'd want to put ina frame. Down below was a court filled with coal boxes and old barrels, and perfumed like the lee side of Barren Island. But catty-cornersacross was the back of that spaghetti mill. We could tell it by thetwo-decker bill board on the roof. In the upper windows we could seeDago women and kids, but the windows on the second floor were black. 

"Iron shutters, " says the Boss. "And that's where she is if anywhere. "

"Got a scalin' ladder and a jimmy in your pocket?" says I. "Then I'llhave to run around to a three ball exchange and see if I can't dig up anoutfit. "

A patent fire escape and a short handled pick-axe was the best I coulddo. We made the board jumper fast inside and down I went. Then there wasacrobatics; swingin' across to that three inch window ledge, balancin'with one foot on nothing, and single hand work with the pick-axe. Luckythat shutter-bar was half rusted away. She came open with a bang whenshe did come, and it near sent me down into the barrels. Me eyelashesheld though, and there I was, up against a window. 

"See anything?" says the Boss. 

"Room to rent, " says I, for it looked like we'd pried open a vacantflat. 

Just then the sash goes up and something shiny glitters in the dark. Iwas just lettin' go with one hand to swing for a head when someone letsloose a Dago remark that was mighty business like and more or lessfamiliar. 

"Is it you?" says I. "If you're the Lady Brigandess own up sudden. "

"Ah-h-h!" says she, thankful like, as if she'd seen her horse win by anose. Then she puts up the rib tickler and grabs me by the wrist. 

"Guess your lady friend's here, " I sings out to the Boss. 

"Have you got her?" says he. 

"No, " says I; "she's got me. "

But no sooner does she hear him than she lets go of me, shoves her headout of the window and calls up to him. The Boss says something back andfor the next two minutes they swaps Dago talk to beat the cars. 

"How shall I pass her up?" says I. 

Just then she made a spring for that rope ladder of ours and overhandsup like a trapeze star. An' me thinkin' we'd need a derrick or abo's'n's chair!

It wa'n't no time for reunions at that stage of the game, nor for hardluck stories, either. None of us was pining to hold any sociables withthe Malabistos. We quit the chowder club on the jump, streaked up thehill into Mott street, and piled into one of those fuzzy two horsechariots that they keep hooked up for weddin's and funerals. 

"Where to?" says the bone thumper. 

"Head her for Buffalo and let loose to beat the Empire State express, "says I, "but hunt for asphalt. "

That fetched us up Second Avenue, but there wasn't any conversin' doneuntil we'd put fifty blocks behind us. Then I reckon the Boss asked theLady Brigandess if she'd missed any meals lately. From the way he gaveorders to steer for a food refinery she must have allowed that she had. 

Not having time to be particular, we hit a goulash emporium where theyspell the meat card mostly with cz's. But they gave us a private roomupstairs, which was what we wanted. And it wasn't until we got insidethat we had a full length view of her. Say, I was glad we'd landed sofar east of Broadway. Post me for a welcher if she wasn't rigged out inthe same kind of a chorus costume that she wore when we saw her last, over there in It'ly! Only it was more so. It was the kind of costumethat'd been all right on a cigarette card, or outside a Luna Park joint, and it would have let her into the Arion ball without a ticket; but itwasn't built for circulatin' 'round New York in. 

"Piffle! Piffle!" says I to the Boss. "They'll think we've pinched herout of a Kiralfy ballet. Hadn't we better send for yer lady-fren'strunk?"

The Boss grinned, but he looked her over as satisfied as if she'd beendressed accordin' to his own water color sketches. She was something ofa star, yes, yes! If you were lookin' for figure and condition, she had'em. And when it came to the color scheme--well, no grease paintmanipulator ever mixed caffy-o-lay and raspb'ry pink the way it grew onher. For a made-in-It'ly girl she was the real meringue. 

"We'll see about clothes later, " says the Boss, and ordered up seventeenkinds of sckeezedsky, to be served in relays. 

She brought her appetite with her, all right, even if she had mislaidher suit case. And, while she was pitchin' into what passes for grub onSecond Avenue, she told the Boss the story of her life. Leastways, that's what it sounded like to me. 

The way I gets it from the Boss was like this: Her father, the oldbrigand pantanta, couldn't get over the way we'd bansheed his bunch ofthird rate kidnappers with our tin armor play. He accumulated a sort ofingrowin' grouch and soured on the whole push because they wouldn't turnstate's evidence as to who had given us the dope to do 'em. 

The Lady Brigandess she had stood that for a while, until one day shegets her Irish up, tells the old man how she tipped us off herself, andthen makes tracks out of the country. One way and another she'd heard alot about America. So she takes out yellow tickets on a few sparesparks and buys a steerage berth for New York. 

Well, she hadn't more'n got past Sandy Hook before a Malabisto runnerspotted her. So did the advance man of another gang. They sized up thegold hoops in her ears, her real money necklace and some of the otherfurniture she sported, and they invited her home to tea. Just how thescrap began or what it was all about she didn't know, so the story byrounds hasn't been told. The next thing she knew though, they'd hustledher into the Bend and bottled her up in that back room, but not beforeshe'd done a little extemporaneous carvin' on her own account. Igathered that three or four of the Malabistos needed some plain sewin'done on 'em after the bell rang, and that the rest wasn't so anxious forher society as at first. She'd been cooped up for two days when shemanaged to get hold of a Dago woman who promised to carry that cuff tothe place where old Vincenzo had told her we hung out in New York. 

"So far it's as good as playin' leading heavy in 'The Shadows of a GreatCity, '" says I, "but what's down for the next act? Where does she wantto go now?"

Say, you'd thought the Boss had been nipped with the goods on. He goesstrawb'ry color back to his ears. Next he takes a look across the tableat her where she sits, quiet and easy, and as much to home as LadyGraftwad on the back seat of the tonneau. She was takin' notice of him, too, kind of runnin' over his points like he was something rich she'dwon at a raffle and was glad to get. But the Boss he braced up andlooked me straight in the eye. 

"Shorty, " says he, "I want to call your attention to the fact that thisyoung lady is something like three thousand miles from home, that we'rethe only two human beings on this side of the ocean she knows by sight, and that once she risked a good deal to do us a service. "

"I'll put my name to all that, " says I, "but what does it lead up to;where do we exit?"

"That, " says the Boss, "is a conundrum. "

"Ain't she got any programme?" says I. 

"She--er--that is, " says the Boss, trying to duck, "she says she wantsto go with us. "

"Whe-e-e-ew!" says I, through my front teeth. "This is _so_ sudden. Justtell the lady, will you, that I've resigned. "

"No you don't, Shorty, " says the Boss. "You'll see this thing through. "

"But look at them circus clothes, " says I. "I've got no aunts orgrandmothers, or second cousins that I could unload a Lady Brigandesson. "

"Nor I, " says the Boss. 

But he didn't look half so worried as he might. Say, when I came tofigure out what we were up against, I could feel little cold storagewhiffs on my shoulder blades. Suppose someone should meet you in themiddle of Herald Square, hand you a ring-tailed tiger, and then skiddoo. What? That would be an easy one compared to our proposition. It wasn't asquare deal to shake her, and she'd made up her mind not to stay putanywhere again. 

"Wait here until I telephone someone, " says the Boss. 

"De-lighted!" says I. "Better ring up the Gerry Society, too, whileyou're about it. They might help us out. "

The Lady Brigandess and I didn't have a real sociable time while theBoss was gone. I could see she was watchin' every move I made, as muchas to say, "You can't lose me, Charlie. " It was just as cheery aswaitin' in the Sergeant's room for bail. 

When the Boss does show up he wears a regular breakfast food smile thatmade me leary, for when he looks tickled it don't signify that thingsare coming his way. Generally it only means that he's goin' to break outin a new spot. 

"It just occurred to me, " says he, "that I had accepted an invitationfrom the Van Urbans for the opera. "

"What kind of a bluff did you throw?" says I. 

"None at all, Shorty, " says he. "I just asked if they would have roomfor three, and they said they would. "

Say, the Boss don't need no nerve tonic, does he? You know about the VanUrbans, don't you? They weigh in at something like forty millions andare a good fifth on Mrs. Astor's list. 

"Straight goods, now, " says I, "you don't reckon to spring thisaggregation on the diamond horse-shoe, do you?"

"We must put in the time somehow, " says he. 

I thought it might be all a grand josh, until I'd watched some of hismoves. First we drives over to Fift' avenue and stops at one of thoseplaces where it says "Robes" on a brass plate outside. The Boss stays inthere four minutes and comes out with a piece of dry goods that theymust have stood him up a hundred for--kind of an opera cloak, ulsterlength, all rustly black silk outside and white inside. The LadyBrigandess she puts it on with no more fuss than as if she'd beenbrought up on such things and had ordered this one a month ahead. 

Next we heads for our own quarters, having shifted our Mott streetchariot for the real article, with rubber tires and silver platedlamps. About that time I got wise to the fact that the Boss and herLadyship were ringin' me into their talk, and I was gettin' curious. Isee the Boss shaking his head like he was tryin' to prove an alibi, andevery once in a while pointin' to me. First thing I knows she'd quit hisside of the carriage and was snugglin' up alongside of me, and cooin'away in some outlandish kind of baby talk that I was glad I didn'tsavvy. I made no kick though, until she begins to pat me on the head. 

"Call her off, will you?" says I. "I'm no lost kid. "

"The young lady is just expressing her thanks, " says the Boss, "to thegallant young hero who so nobly rescued her from the Malabistos. Don'tshy, Shorty; she says that anyone so brave as you are needn't worryabout not being handsome. "

He was kiddin' me, see? I knew he'd given her some fairy tale or other, but I didn't have any come back that she could understand. I felt like amonkey though, having my hair mussed and thinkin' maybe next minuteshe'd give me the knife. And the Boss he sat there grinnin' like a Jacklantern. 

I didn't get a chance to break away until we got to our own ranch. Thenwe left her sitting in the buggy while we went up to make a lightnin'change. Sure, I've got a head waiter's rig; bought it the time I had tolead off the grand march at the Tim Grogan Association's tenth annualball, but I never looked to wear it out attendin' grand opera. 

"I hope the Van Urbans will appreciate that I'm givin' 'em a treat, "says I. 

"They'll be blind if they don't, " says the Boss. "Is it your collar thathurts?"

"No, it's the shoes, " says I, "but the pain'll numb down by the time weget there. "

We made our grand entry about the end of the second spasm. The VanUrbans had taken their corners. There was Papa Van Urban, lookin' likeready money; and Mamma Van Urban, made up regardless; and Sis Van Urban, one of those tall Gainsborough girls that any piker could pick for awinner on form and past performance. 

Say, it took all the front I had in stock just to tag along as an alsoran, but when I thought of the Boss, headin' the procession, I was deadsorry for him. And what kind of a game do you think he hands out?Straight talk, nothin' but! Course he didn't make no family hist'ry outof tellin' who his lady-fren' was, but as far as he went it tallied withthe card, even to lettin' on that she was a Lady Brigandess. 

"Out we go now, " says I to myself, and looks to see Mamma Van Urbanthrow a cat fit. But she didn't. She just squealed a little, same's ifsomeone had tickled her behind the ear, and then she began slingin' thatgurgly-gurgly Newport talk that the Sixt' avenue sales ladies use. SisVan Urban caught the same cue, and to hear 'em you'd thought the Bosshad done something real cute. They gave the Lady Brigandess the HighBridge wig-wag and shooed her into a stage corner chair. 

She never made a kick at anything until they tried to take away hercloak. Not much! She was just beginnin' to be stuck on that. She kept itwrapped around her like she knew the proprietor wa'n't responsible forovercoats. The Boss tried to tell her how there wa'n't any grand larcenyintended, but it was no go. She had her suspicions of the crowd, so theyjust had to let her sit there draped in black. And at that she wa'n'tany misfit. 

Now I'd been inside the Metropolitan once or twice before, havin' blownmyself to a standee just for the sake of lookin' at the real things withtheir war paint on, but I wasn't feelin' any more to home in the back ofthat box than I would in the pilot house of an air ship. 

But the Lady Brigandess didn't show no more stage fright than anauctioneer. She just holds her chin up and looks out at all that displayof openwork dressmaking and cut glass exhibit without so much as battin'an eyelash. She was takin' it all in, too, from the bargain hats in thefam'ly circle, to the diamond tummy warmers in the parterre, but you'dnever guessed that she'd just escaped from a Dago back district wherethey have one mail a week. If I hadn't seen her chumming with a hold-upgang that couldn't have bought fifteen cent lodgings on the Bowery, I'dbet the limit that she was a thoroughbred in disguise. 

There was some rubberin' at her, of course, and I expect we had thesafety vault crowd guessin' as to what kind of a prize the Van Urbanshad won, but it didn't feaze her a bit. She just gave 'em the Horse Showstare, as cool as a mint frappé. The ringin' up of the curtain didn'tdisturb her any, either. When a chesty baritone sauntered down towardthe footlights and began callin' the chorus names she glanced over hershoulder, casual like, just to see what the row was all about, and thenwent on sizin' up the folks in the boxes. She couldn't have done itbetter if she'd taken lessons by mail. 

"If she would only talk!" gurgles Mrs. Van Urban. "Doesn't she speakanything but Italian?"

"Pure Tuscan is all she knows, " says the Boss, "and the way she talks itis better than any music you'll hear to-night. Wait until she hassatisfied her eyes. "

Pretty soon the baritone quits jawin' the chorus and a prima donna inspangled clothes comes to the front. Maybe it was Melba, or Nordica. Anyway, she was an A-1 warbler. She hadn't let go of more'n a dozennotes before the Lady Brigandess begins to sit up and take notice. Firstshe has a kind of surprised look, as if a ringer had been sprung on her;and then, as the high C artist begins to let herself go, she swingsaround and listens with both ears. The music didn't seem to go in oneside and out the other. It stuck somewhere between, and swayed andlifted her like a breeze in a posy bush. I could hear her toe tappin'out the tune and see her head keep time to it. Why, if I could get mymoney's worth out of music like that I'd buy a season ticket. 

When the prima donna had cut it off, with her voice way up in the fliessomewhere, and the house had rose to her, as the bleachers do when oneof the Giants knocks a three bagger, the Lady Brigandess was stillsittin' there, waitin' for more. 

Her trance didn't last long, though. She just cast one eye around theboxes, where the folks were splittin' gloves and wavin' fans andyellin' "Bravo! Bravo!" so that you'd 'a-thought somebody'd carried Ohioby a big majority, and then she takes a notion to get into the gameherself. 

Shuckin' that high priced opera cloak she jumps up, drops one hand onher hip, holds the other up to her lips and peels off a kind ofwhoop-e-e-e yodel that shakes the skylight. Talk about your cornet buglecalls! That little ventriloquist pass of hers had 'em stung to awhisper. It cut through all that patter and screech like a siren whistlesplittin' a fish horn serenade, and it was as clear as the ring ofsilver sleigh bells on a frosty night. 

After that it was all up to her. The other folks quit and turned to seewho had done it. Two or three thousand pairs of double barrelled operaglasses were pointed our way. The folks behind 'em found something worthlookin' at, too. Our Brigandess wasn't in disguise any more. She stoodup there at the box rail, straight as a Gibson girl, her black hairhangin' in two thick braids below her waist, the gold hoops in her earsall ajiggle, her little fringed jacket risin' and fallin', and her blackeyes snappin' like a pair of burning trolley fuses. Well, say, if shewa'n't a pastelle I never saw one! I guess the star singer thought so, too. She'd just smiled and nodded at the others, but she blew a kiss upto our lady before she left. 

I don't know just what would have happened next if someone hadn't shownup at the back of the box and asked for the Boss. It was the Italianconsul that we'd been to see earlier in the day. 

"Where'd you find her?" says he. 

"Meanin' who?" says the Boss. 

"Why, her highness the Princess Padova. "

"Beg pardon, " says the Boss, "but if you mean the young lady there, you're wrong. She's the daughter of a poor but honest brigand chief, andshe's just come from Tuscany to discover New York. "

"She's the Princess Padova or I'm a Turk, " says the Consul. "Ask her tostep back here a moment. "

It sounded like a pipe dream, all right. Who ever saw a princess riggedout for the tambourine act and mixin' with a lot of chestnut roasters?But old whiskers had the evidence down pat, though. As he told it, shewas a sure enough princess, so far as the tag went, only the family hadbeen in the nobility business so long that the pedigree had lasted outthe plunks. 

It seemed that away back, before the Chicago fire or the Sayers-Heenango, her great-grandpop had princed it in regulation shape. Then there'dcome a grand mix-up, a war or something, and a lot of princes had eitherlost their jobs or got on the blacklist. Her great-grandpop had been oneof the kind that didn't know when he was licked. They euchred him outof his castle and building lots, but he gathered up what was left of hisgang and slid for the tall timber, where he went on princing the best heknew how. As he couldn't disgrace himself by workin', and hadn't lostthe hankerin' for reg'lar meals, he got into the habit of taking upcontributions from whoever came along, calling it a road tax. And that'show the Padova family fell into playing the hold-up game. 

But the old man Padova, the Princess' father, never forgot that if he'dhad his rights he would have been boss of his ward, and he always actedaccordin'. So when he picked the Consul up on the road one night with abroken leg he gave him the best in the house, patched him up like anambulance surgeon, and kept him board free until he could walk back totown. And so, when Miss Padova takes it into her head to elope toAmerica with a tin trunk, Papa Padova hikes himself down to the nearesttelegraph office and cables over a general alarm to his old friend, who's been made consul. 

"I've been having Mulberry Bend raked with a fine toothed comb, " sayshe, "but when I saw her highness stand up here in the box I knew her ata glance, although it's been ten years since I saw her last. "

Then he asked her if he hadn't called the trick, and she said he had. 

"Now, " says he, "perhaps you'll tell us why you came to America?"

"Sure, " says she, or something that meant the same, "I've come overafter me best feller. I've made up my mind that I'll marry him, " and sheslips an arm around the Boss's neck just as cool as though they'd beenon a moonlight excursion. 

Mr. Consul's face gets as red as a fireman's shirt, the Van Urbans catchtheir breath with both fists, and I begins to see what a lovely mess I'dbeen helping the Boss to get himself into. He never turned a hairthough. 

"The honor is all mine, " says he, just as if he meant every word of it. 

"Ahem!" says the Consul, kind of steadying himself against the curtains. "Perhaps it would be best, before anything more is said on this subject, for the Princess to have a talk with my wife. We'll take her home. "

Well, they settled it that way and I was mighty glad to get her off ourhands so easy. 

Next afternoon the Consul shows up at our ranch as gay as an up-statedeacon who's seeing the town incog. 

"Sir, " says he to the Boss, givin' him the right hand of fellowship, "you're a real gent. After what you did last night I'm proud to knowyou; and I'm happy to state that it's all off with the Princess. "

Then he went on to tell how Miss Padova, being out of her latitude, hadn't got her book straight. She'd carried away the notion that when aPrincess went out of her class she had a right to sign on any chap thatshe liked the looks of, without waitin' for him to make the first move. They did it that way at home. But when the Consul's wife had explainedthe United States way, and how the Boss was a good deal of a roosterhimself, with real money enough to buy up a whole rink full of Dagoprinces, why Miss Padova feels like a plush Christmas box at a Januarysale. She turns on the sprinkler, wants to know what they suppose theBoss thinks of her, and says she wants to go back to It'ly by the nexttrolley. 

"But she'll get over feeling bad, " says the Consul. "We'll ship her backnext Friday, and you can take it from me that the incident is closed. "

I was lookin' for the Boss to open a bottle or two on that. But hedidn't. For a pleased man he held in well. 

"Poor little girl!" says he, looking absent minded towards the Bronx. Then he cheers up a minute. "I say, do you mind if I run up and see heronce before she sails?"

"You may for all of me, " says the Consul, "but if you'll listen to myadvice you won't go. "

He did though, and lugged me along for a chaperone, which is some out ofmy line. 

"I'm afraid they've rather overdone the explaining business, " says he onthe way up; and while I had my own idea as to that, I had sense enough, for once, not to butt in. 

That was an ice house call, all right. They left us on the mat while ourcards went up, and after a while the hired girl comes down to give usthe book-agent glare. 

"Th' Missus, " says she, "says as how the young lady begs to be 'xcused. "

"Does the young lady know we're here?" says the Boss. 

"She does, " says the girl, and shuts the door. 

"Gee!" says I, "that's below the belt. "

The Boss hadn't a word left in him, but I wouldn't have met him in thering about then for anything less'n a bookie's bundle. 

Just as we hit the sidewalk we hears a front window go up, and downcomes a red rose plunk in front of us. 

"Many happy returns of the day, " says I, handing it to the Boss. 

"I suppose you're right, " says he. "It's the only way to look at it, Iexpect; and yet--oh, hang it all, Shorty, what's the use?"

"Ahr-r, say!" says I. "Switch off! It's all over, and you've sidestepped takin' the count. "

CHAPTER IV

Does the Boss let it go at that? Say, I was just thick enough to guessthat he would. I was still havin' that dream, a few days later, when theBoss says to me:

"Shorty, you remember that old castle of ours?"

"You don't think I've been struck with softenin' of the brain, do you?"says I. "That'll be the last thing I'll forget. What's happened to it?"

"It's mine, " says he. 

"G'way!" says I. "They couldn't force you to take it. "

"I've bought it, " says he. "I cabled over an offer, and the Count hasaccepted. "

"Goin' to blow it up?" I says. 

"I hope, " says he, gettin' a little red under the eyes, "to spend myhoneymoon there; that is, if the Princess Padova--"

"The who?" says I. "Oh, you mean the lady brigandess?"

"If the Princess Padova, " says he, keepin' straight on, "doesn't prefersome other place. We sail to-morrow. "

"Then--then--" says I, catchin' my breath, "you've done it?"

It was silly askin' him. Why, it stuck out all over his face. I don'tknow what I said next, but it didn't matter much. He was too far up inthe air to hear anything in particular. Just as we shakes hands though, he passes me an envelope and says:

"Shorty, I wish you'd take this down to my lawyer next Monday morning. It's a little matter I haven't had time to fix up. "

"Sure, " says I. "I'll tie up any loose ends. And don't forget to give myregards to old Vincenzo. "

Say, I s'pose I'd ought to told him what a mark he'd made of himself, takin' a chance with any such wild-rose runnin' mate as that; butsomehow it seemed all right, for him. I couldn't get a view of the Bossmated up with any silk-lined, city-broke girl. I guess Miss Padova wasabout his style, after all; and I reckon it would take a man like him tomanage one of her high flyin' kind. Anyway, I'm glad he got her. 

I was sorry to lose the Boss, though. "It's me to go back to trainin'four flush comers again, " says I, when he'd gone. And say, I wa'n'tfeelin' gay over the prospect. Some of these mitt artists is nice, decent boys, but then again you'll find others that you can't take muchpride in. 

You see, I'd been knockin' around for months with someone who was cleanall the way through--washed clean, spoke clean, thought clean--and nowthere was no tellin' what kind of a push I'd fall in with. You've had apeek at trainin' camps, eh? Them rubbers is apt to be a scousy lot. Itwas the goin' back to eatin' with sword swallowers that came hardest, though. I can stand for a good many things, but when I sees a guyloadin' up his knife for the shovel act, I rubs him off my list. 

I was goin' over all this, on the way down to the office of that lawyerthe Boss wanted me to see. I'd met him a few times, so when I sends inmy name there wa'n't any waitin' around in the ante-room with the officeboy. 

"Bring Mr. McCabe right in, " says he. "Mister McCabe, " mind you. He'sone of those wiry, brisk little chaps, with x-ray eyes, and a voice likea telephone bell. "Ah, yes!" says he, takin' the letter. "I know aboutthat--some stock I was to turn into cash. Franklin!" he sings out. Franklin comes in like he'd come through a tube. "Bring me Mr. McCabe'sbank book. "

"Bank book!" says I. "I guess you've dipped into the wrong letter file. I don't sport any bank book. "

"Perhaps you didn't yesterday, " says he, "but to-day you do. "

And say, what do you think the Boss had gone and done? Opened anaccount in my name, and fatted it up good and sweet, as a starter. 

"But he didn't owe me anything like that, " says I. 

"A difference of opinion, Mr. McCabe, " says the lawyer. "'For servicesrendered, ' that was the way his instructions to me read. I sold thestock and made the deposit to your credit. That's all there is to it. Good day. Call again. "

And the next thing I knew I was goin' down in the elevator with me fistgrippin' that bank book like it was a life raft. First off I has to goand have a look at the outside of that bank. That's right, snicker. Butsay, I've had as much dough as that before, only I'd always carried itin a bundle. There's a lot of difference. Every tinhorn sport has hisbundle, you know; but it's only your real gent that can flash a checkbook. I could feel my chest swellin' by the minute. 

"Shorty, " says I, "you've broke into a new class. Now you've got to makegood. "

And how do you s'pose I begins? Why, I hires one of these open facedcabs by the hour, and tells the chap up top to take me up Fifth ave. Iwanted to think, and there ain't any better place for brain exercisethan leanin' back in a hansom, squintin' out over the foldin' doors. I'dgot pretty near up to the Plaza before I hooks what I was fishin'after. It came sudden, too. 

It was like this: Whilst I was sparrin' secretary to the Boss I'd met upwith a lot of his crowd, and some of 'em had tried the gloves on withme. I didn't go in for sluggin' their blocks off, just to show 'em Icould do it. There's no sense in that, unless you're out for a purse. Sparrin' for points is the best kind of fun, and for an all 'round tonicit can't be beat. They liked the way I handled 'em, and they used to saythey wished they could take a dose of that medicine reg'lar, same as theBoss did. 

"And that's just the chance I'm goin' to give 'em, " says I. 

With that I heads back for Forty-second street, picks out a vacant floorI'd noticed, and signs a lease. Inside of a week I has the place fixedup with mat, chest weights, and such; lays in a stock of soft gloves, buys a medicine ball or two, gets me some cards printed, and has me namedone in gold letters on the ground glass. Boxin' instructor? Not on youraccident policy. Nor private gym. , either. 

 PROFESSOR M'CABE'S STUDIO OF PHYSICAL CULTURE

That's the way the door plate reads. It may be a bluff, but it scaresoff the cheap muggs that would hang around a boxin' school. They don'tknow what it means, any more'n if it was Chinese. 

Well, when I gets things all in shape I gives out word to some of thosegents, and before I'd been runnin' a fortnight I'd booked businessenough to see that I'd struck it right. What's the use monkeyin' withcomers when you can take on men that's made their pile? They're ahigh-toned lot, too, and they don't care what it costs, so long as Ikeeps 'em in shape. Some of 'em don't put on the mitts at all, but mostof 'em works up to that. 

Now there was Mr. Gordon. Sure, Pyramid Gordon. But I'll have to tellyou about the game he stacks me up against. I'd had him as a reg'lar forabout a month--Mondays, Wednesdays and Saturdays, from five to six--andhe was just gettin' so he knew what real livin' was, when somethin'breaks loose down on the street that makes him forget everything but thefigures on the tape. So he quits trainin'. About ten days later he dropsin one afternoon, with fur on his tongue, and his eyes lookin' like acouple of cold fried eggs. 

"Are you comin' or goin', Mr. Gordon?" says I. 

"Where, Shorty?" says he. 

"Hospital, " says I. 

He grinned a little, the kind of grin a feller wears when he's bein'helped to his corner, after the count. 

"I know, " says he; "but when you've been sitting for two weeks on avolcano, Shorty, wondering whether it would blow you up, or open and letyou fall in, you're apt to forget your liver. "

"It ain't apt to forget you, though, " says I. "Shall we have a littlesession right now?"

And then he springs his proposition. He'd got to go to Washington andback inside of the next two breakfasts, and he wanted me to go along, some on account of his liver, but mostly so's he could forget that hewas still on the lid. His private car was hitched to the tail of theFlyer, and he had just forty-five minutes to get aboard. Would I come?

"If I'm wiped out by the time we get back, " says he, "I'll make you apreferred creditor. "

"I'll take chances on that, " says I. 

They did do the trick to Pyramid once, you know; but they'd never gothim right since. They had him worried some this time, though. You couldtell that by the way he smiled at the wrong cues, and combed his deaconwhiskers with his fingers. They're the only deacon whiskers I ever hadin the Studio. Used to make me nervous when I hit 'em, for fear I'ddrive 'em in. But he's dead game, Pyramid is, whether he's stoppin'mitts, or buckin' the Upright Oil push. So I grabs a few things off thewall, and we pikes for the ferry. 

"Where's the other parties?" says I, when I'd sized up the inside of theAdeline. There was room enough for a minstrel troupe. 

"We're to have it all to ourselves, professor, " says he. "And it'salmost time for us to pull out; there's the last Cortlandt-st. Boat in. "

About then we hears Mr. Rufus Rastus, the Congo brunet that's master ofceremonies on the car, havin' an argument out in the vestibule. He wastryin' to shunt somebody. They didn't shunt though, and in comes along-geared old gent, wearin' one of those belted ulsters that they makeout of horse-blankets for English tourists. He had a dinky cloth cap ofthe same pattern, and the lengthiest face I ever saw on a man. It wasn'ta cheerful face, either; looked like he was huntin' for his owntombstone, and didn't care how soon he found it. 

Rufus Rastus was hangin' to one of his arms, splutterin' things aboutthis being a private car, and gettin' no more notice taken of himselfthan as if he'd been an escape-valve. Behind 'em, totin' a lot ofleather bags of all shapes, was a peaked-nosed chap, who looked like hewas doin' all the frettin' for a Don't Worry Club. 

"It's honly Sir Peter, " says the worried chap. "'E's myde a mistyke, y'know. Hi'll get 'im out, sir. "

"Danvers, shut up!" says Sir Peter. 

"Yes, sir; directly, sir; but--" says he. 

"Shut up now and sit down!" Sir Peter wasn't scrappy about it. He justsaid it as though he was tired. But Danvers wilted. 

"Shall I give 'em the run?" says I. 

"No, " says Mr. Gordon; "there's the bell. We can get rid of them at thefirst stop. "

Then he goes over to Sir Peter, tells him all about the Adeline's bein'a private snap, and how he can change to a parlor-car at Trenton. 

The old fellow seems to take it all in, lookin' him straight in the eye, without turnin' a hair, and then he says, just as if they'd been talkin'about it for a month: "You'd better wear a bucket, as I do. It looks alittle odd, you know; but the decimals can't get through a bucket. Danvers!" he sings out. 

"But you don't understand, " says Pyramid. "I said this was a privatecar--private car!"

"Don't shout, " says Sir Peter. "I'm not deaf. I'd lend you a bucket if Ihad an extra one; but I haven't. Danvers!"

This time Danvers edged in with one of those sole-leather cases that anEnglishman carries his plug-hat in. 

[Illustration: "Got his wheels all under cover, " says I. ]

"Don't you think, Sir Peter--" says he. 

"Yes; but you don't, " says Sir Peter. "Hurry on, now!"

And I'll be welched if Danvers didn't dig a wooden pail out of thathat-case and hand it over. Sir Peter chucks the cap, puts on the pail, drops the handle under his chin, and stretches out on a corner sofa aspeaceful as a bench-duster in the park. 

"Looks like he's got his wheels all under cover, " says I. "Greatscheme--every man his own garage. "

"Who is he?" says Mr. Gordon to Danvers. 

"Lord, sir, you don't mean to sye you don't know Sir Peter, sir?" saysDanvers. "Why, 'e's Sir Peter--_the_ Sir Peter. 'E's a bit heccentric attimes, sir. "

Well, we let it go at that. Sir Peter seemed to be enjoying himself; sowe piles all the wicker chairs around him, opens the ventilators, andpeels down for business. 

Ever try hand-ball in a car that's being snaked over switches at fiftymiles an hour? So far as looks went, we were just as batty as Sir Peterwith his wooden hat. We caromed around like a couple of six-spots in adice-box, and some of the foot-work we did would have had abuck-and-wing artist crazy. We was using a tennis-ball, and when we'dget in three strokes without missing we'd stop and shake hands. Therewa'n't any more sense to it than to a musical comedy; but it was makin'Mr. Gordon forget his troubles, and it was doing his liver good. Danverswatched us from behind some chairs. He looked disgusted. 

By the time we'd got half-way across Jersey we was ready for the bathtub. And say, that's the way to travel and stay at home, all to once. Aprivate car for mine. While we was puttin' on a polish with the Turkishtowels, Rufus Rastus was busy with the dinner. 

"Now, we'll have another talk with Sir Peter of the Pail, " says Mr. Gordon. 

We took the barricade down, and found him just as we'd left him. Then hean' Pyramid gets together; but it was the wizziest brand of conversationI ever heard. You'd have thought they was talkin' over the 'phone to thewrong numbers. Sir Peter would listen to all Mr. Gordon had to say, justas if he was gettin' next to every word, but his come-backs didn't fitby a mile. 

"Sorry to disturb you, " says Mr. Gordon; "but I'll have to ask you tochange to a forward car next stop. "

Sir Peter blinked his lamps at him a minute, and then he says: "Yes, itkeeps the decimals out, " and he taps the bucket, knowing like. "My owninvention, sir. I'd advise you to try it if they ever bother you. "

"Yes, I'll take your word for that, " says Mr. Gordon; "but I'm afraidyou'll have to be getting ready to move. This is my private car, yousee. "

"They always come point first, " says Sir Peter; "that's how they get in. It's only the bucket that makes 'em shy off. "

"Oh, the deuce!" says Pyramid. "Here, Shorty, you try your luck withhim. "

"Sure, " says I. "I've talked sense through thicker things than a woodenpail. " First I raps on his cupola with me knuckles, just to ring him up. Then, when I gets his eye, I says, kind of coaxin': "Pete, it'sseventeen after six. That's twenty-three for you. Are you next?"

Now say, you'd thought most anyone would have dropped for a hint likethat, dippy or not. But Sir Peter sizes me up without battin' an eye. Hehad a kind of dignified, solemn way of lookin', too, with eyes wideopen, same's a judge chargin' a jury. 

"You'll never need a bucket, " says he. 

Just then I heard something that sounded like pouring water from a jug, and I looks around, to see Mr. Gordon turnin' plum color and holdin'himself by the short ribs. I knew what had happened then. The nutty onehad handed me the lemon. 

"Scratch me off, " says I. "I'm in the wrong class. If there's to be anymore Bloomingdale repartee, just count me out. "

Naw, I wa'n't sore, or nothin' like that. If anyone can get freevawdyville from me I'll write 'em an annual pass; but I couldn't see theuse of monkeyin' with that bug-house boarder. Say, if you was payin' forfive rooms and bath when you went on the road, like Mr. Gordon was, would you stand for any machinery-loft butt-in like that? I was waitin'for the word to pile Sir Peter on the baggage truck, Danvers and all. 

Think I got it? Nix! Some folks is easy pleased. And Pyramid Gordon, with seventeen different kinds of trouble bein' warmed up for him behindhis back, stood there and played kid. Said he couldn't think of losin'Sir Peter after that. He'd got to have dinner with us. Blessed if hedidn't too, pail and all! Couldn't fall for any talk about changin'cars; oh, no! But when he sees the pink candles, and the oysters on thehalf, and the quart bott' in the ice bath, he seemed to get his hearin'back by wireless. 

"Dinner?" says he. "Ah, yes! Danvers, has the prime minister come yet?It was to-night that he was to dine with me, wasn't it?"

"To-morrow night, Sir Peter, " says Danvers. 

"Oh, very well. But you gentlemen will share the joint with me, eh?Welcome to Branscomb Arms! And let's gather around, sirs, let's gatheraround!"

You should have seen the way he did it, though. Reg'lar John Drewmanners, the old duffer had. Lord knows where he thought he was, though;somewhere on Highgate Road, I suppose. But wherever it was, he was rightto home--called Rufus Rastus Jenkins, and told Danvers he could go forthe day. Gave me the goose-flesh back until I got used to it; but Mr. Gordon seemed to take it all as part of the game. 

It beat all the dinners I ever had, that one. There we were poundin'over the rails through Pennsylvania at a mile-a-minute clip, the tomatosoup doin' a merry-go-round in the plates, the engine tootin' for gradecrossin's; and Sir Peter, wearin' his pail as dignified as a cardinaldoes a red hat, talkin' just as if he was back on the farm, up north ofLondon. I don't blame Rufus Rastus for wearin' his eyes on the outside. They stuck out like the waist-buttons on a Broadway cop, and he hardlyknew whether he was waitin' on table, or makin' up a berth. 

With his second glass of fizz Sir Peter began to thaw a little. Hehadn't paid much attention to me for a while, passin' most of hisremarks over to Mr. Gordon; but all of a sudden he comes at me with:

"You're a Home Ruler, I expect?"

"Sure, " says I. "Now, spring the gag. "

But if there was a stinger to it, he must have lost it in the shuffle;for he opens up a line of talk that I didn't have the key to at all. Mr. Gordon tells me afterwards it was English politics and that Sir Peterwas tryin' to register me as a Conservative. Anyway, I've promised tovote for Balfour, or somebody like that next election; so I'm goin' tosend word to Little Tim that he needn't come around. Had to do it, justto please the old gent. By the time we'd got to the little cups of blackhe'd switched to something else. 

"I don't suppose you know anything about railroads?" says he to Mr. Gordon. 

Then it was my grin. Railroads is what Pyramid plays with, you know. He's a director on three or four lines himself, and is always lookin'for more. It's about as safe to leave a branch road out after nightfallwhen Gordon's around as it would be to try to raise watermelons inMinetta Lane. He grinned, too, and said something about not knowing asmuch about 'em as he did once. 

With that Sir Peter lights up one of Mr. Gordon's Key West night-sticksand cuts adrift on the railroad business. That made the boss kind ofsick at first. Railroads was something he was tryin' to forget for theevenin'. But there wasn't any shuttin' the old jay off. And say! he knewthe case-cards all right. There was too much high finance about it forme to follow close; but anyways I seen that it made Mr. Gordon sit upand take notice. He'd peg in a question now and then, and got the oldone so stirred up that after a while he shed the bucket, lugged out oneof his bags, and flashed a lot of papers done up in neat little piles. He said it was a report he was goin' to make to some board or other, ifever the decimals would quit bothering him long enough. 

Well, that sort of thing might keep Mr. Gordon awake, but not for mine. Half-way to Baltimore I turns in, leaving 'em at it. I had a goodsnooze, too. 

Mr. Gordon comes to my bunk in the mornin', very mysterious. "Shorty, "says he, "we're in. I've got to go up to the State Department for anhour or so, and while I'm gone I'd like you to keep an eye on Sir Peter. If he takes a notion to wander off, you persuade him to stay until I getback. "

"What you say goes, " says I. 

I shoved up the shade and sees that they'd put the Adeline down at theend of the train-shed. About all I could see of Washington was the topof old George's headstone stickin' up over a freight-car. I fixed myselfup and had breakfast, just as if I was in a boardin'-house, and thensits around waitin' for Sir Peter. He an' Danvers shows up after awhile, and the old gent calls for tea and toast and jam. Then I knowshe's farther off his base than ever. Think of truck like that forbreakfast! But he gets away with it, and then says to Danvers:

"Time we were off for the city, my man. "

I got a glimpse of trouble ahead, right there; for that chump of aDanvers never made a move when I gives him the wink. All he could getinto that peanut head of his at one time was to collect those leatherbags and get ready to trot around wherever that long-legged old lunaticled the way. 

"They've changed the time on that train of yours, Sir Pete, " says I. "She don't come along until ten-twenty-six now, spring schedule, " and Iwinks an eye loose at Danvers. 

"'Pon my word!" says Sir Peter, "you here yet? Danvers, show this personto the gates. "

"Yes, sir, " says Danvers. He comes up to me an' whispers, kind of ugly:"I sye now, you'll 'ave to stop chaffin' Sir Peter. I won't 'ave it!"

"Help!" says I. "There's a rat after me. "

"Hi'll bash yer bloomin' nose in!" says he, gettin' pink behind theears. 

"Hi'll write to the bloomin' pypers habout it if you do, " says I. 

I was wishin' that would fetch him, and it did. He comes at me wideopen, with a guard like a soft-shell crab. I slips down the state-roompassage, out of sight of Sir Peter, catches Danvers by the scruff, chucks him into a berth, and ties him up with the sheets, as careful asif he was to go by express. 

"Now make all the holler you want, " says I. "It won't disturb us none, "and I shut the door. 

But Sir Peter was a different proposition. I didn't want to rough-househim. He was too ancient; and anyway, I kind of liked the old chap'slooks. He'd forgot all about Danvers, and was makin' figures on anenvelope when I got back. I let him figure away, until all of a suddenhe puts up his pencil and lugs out that bucket again. 

"It's quit raining, " says I. 

"What do you know about it?" says he. "It's pouring decimals, justpouring 'em. But I've got to get my report in. " With that he claps onthe bucket, grabs a bag and starts for the car door. 

It was up to me to make a quick play; for he was just ripe to go buttin'around those tracks and run afoul of a switch-engine. And I hated tocollar him. Just then I spots the tennis-ball. 

"Whoop-ee!" says I, grabbin' it up and slammin' it at his head. I made abull's-eye on the pail, too. "That's a cigar you owe me, " says I, "and Igets two more cracks for my nickel. " He tried to dodge; but I slammed itat him a couple more times. "Your turn now, " says I. "Gimme the bucket. "

Sounds foolish, don't it? I'll bet it looked a heap foolisher than itsounds; but I'd just thought of something a feller told me once. He wasa young doctor in the bat ward at Bellevue. "They're a good deal likekids, " says he, "and if you remember that, you can handle 'em easy. "

And say, Sir Peter seemed to look tickled and interested. The firstthing I knew he'd chucked the bucket on my head and was doin' awar-dance, lambastin' that tennis-ball at me to beat the cars. It wasworking, all right. 

When he got tired of that I organized a shinny game, with an umbrellaand a cane for sticks, and a couple of wicker chairs for goals. He tookto that, too. First he shed his frock-coat, then his vest, and after awhile we got down to our undershirts. It was a hot game from the wordgo. There wa'n't any half-way business about Sir Peter. When he startedout to drive a goal through my legs he whacked good and strong andoften. My shins looked like a barber's pole afterwards; but I couldn'tsqueal then. There was no way to duck punishment but to get the ballinto his territory and make him guard goal. It wa'n't such a cinch todo, either, for he was a lively old gent on his pins. 

After about half an hour of that, you can bet I wished I'd stuck to thebucket game. But Sir Peter was as excited over it as a boy with a newpair of roller-skates. He wouldn't stand for any change of program, andhe wouldn't stop for breathin'-spells. Rufus Rastus came out of his cooponce to see what the row was all about; but when he saw us mixed up in ascrimmage for goal he says: "Good Lawd ermighty!" lets out one yell, andshuts himself up with his canned soup and copper pans. I guess Danversthought I was draggin' his boss around by the hair; for I heard him yelponce in a while, but he couldn't get loose. 

Sir Peter began to leak all over his head, and his gray hair got mussedup, and his eyes was bulgin' out; but I couldn't get him switched toanything else. Not much! Shinny was a new game to him and he was stuckon it. "Whee-yee!" he'd yell, and swing that crooked-handled cane, andbang would go a fancy gas globe into a million pieces. But a littlething like that didn't feaze him. He was out for goals, and he wasn'tparticular what he hit as long as the ball was kept moving. 

It was a hot pace he set, all right. Every time he swung I had to jumptwo feet high, or else get it on the shins. And say! I jumped when Icould. I'd have given a sable-lined overcoat for a pair of leg-guardsjust about then; and if I could have had that young bug-ward doctor tomyself for about ten minutes--well, he'd have learned something theydidn't tell him at Bellevue. 

Course, I don't keep up reg'lar ring trainin' these days; but I'mgenerally fit for ten rounds or so any old time. I thought I was in goodtrim then, until that dippy old snoozer had rushed me for abouttwenty-five goals. Then I began to breathe hard and wish someone wouldring the gong on him. There was no counting on when Mr. Gordon wouldshow up; but his footsteps wouldn't have made me sad. I've let myself infor some jay stunts in my time; but this gettin' tangled up with a baddream that had come true--well, that was the limit. And I'd started outto do something real cute. You could have bought me for a bunch of pinktrading stamps. 

And just as I was wondering if this Bloomingdale séance was to go on allday, Sir Peter gives out like a busted mainspring, slumps all over thefloor, and lays as limp as if his jaw had connected with a pile-driver. For a minute or so I was scared clear down to my toe-nails; but afterI'd sluiced him with ice-water and worked over him a little, he cameback to the boards. He was groggy, and I reckon things was loopin' theloops when he looked at 'em; but his blood pump was doing businessagain, and I knew he'd feel better pretty soon. 

I helped him up on the bucket, that being handiest, and threw athree-finger slug of rye into him, and then he began to take aninventory of things in general, kind of slow and dignified. He looks atthe broken glass on the car carpet, at the chairs turned bottom up, atme in my hard-work costume, and at his own rig. 

"Really, you know, really--I--I don't quite understand, " he says. "Where--what--"

"Oh, you're ahead, " says I. "I wouldn't swear to the score; but it'syour odds. "

This didn't seem to satisfy him, though. He kept on lookin' around, asthough he'd lost something. I guessed he was hunting for that blastedcane. 

"See here, " says I. "You get the decision, and there ain't goin' to beany encore. I've retired. I've had enough of that game to last me untilI'm as old as you are, which won't be for two or three seasons on. Ifyou're dead anxious for more, you wait until Mr. Gordon comes back andchallenge him. He's a sport. "

But Sir Peter seemed to be clear off the alley. "My good man, " says he, "I--I don't follow you at all. Will you please tell me where I am?"

Now say, how was I to know where he thought he was? What was the name ofthat place--Briskett Arms? I didn't want to chance it. 

"This is the same old stand, " says I, "right where you started an hourago. "

"But, " says he--"but Lord Winchester?"

"He's due on the next trolley, " says I. "Had to stop off at thegun-factory, you know. "

Ever try to tear off a lot of extemporaneous lies, twenty to the minute?It's no pipe. Worse than being on the stand at an insurance thirddegree. I couldn't even refuse to answer on advice of counsel, and in notime at all he had me twisted up into a bow-knot. 

"Young man, " says he, "I think you're prevaricating. "

"I'm doin' me best, " says I; "but let's cut that out. P'raps you'd feelbetter if you wore the bucket awhile. "

"Bucket?" says he. And I'll be put on the buzzer if he didn't throw thebluff that he'd never had the thing on his head. 

"Oh, well, " says I, "you've got a right to lie some if you want to. It'syour turn, anyway. But let me swab you off a little. "

He didn't kick on that, and I was gettin' busy with warm water andtowels when the door opens, and in drifts Mr. Gordon with three well-fedgents behind him. 

"Great cats!" says he, throwin' up both hands. "Shorty, what in blazeshas happened?"

"Nothin' much, " says I. "We've been playin' a little shinny. "

"Shinny?" says he, just as though it was something I'd invented. 

"Sure, " says I. "And Sir Peter won out. As a shinny player he's a bird. "

Then the three other ducks swarms in, and the way they powwows aroundthere for a few minutes was enough to make a curtain scene for a Thirdavenue melodrama. 

Mr. Gordon calmed 'em down though after a bit, and then I got a chance. I was a little riled by that time, I guess. I offered to tie pillows onboth hands and take 'em all three at once, kickin' allowed. 

"Oh, come, Shorty, " says Mr. Gordon. "These gentlemen have been a littlehasty. They don't understand, and they're great friends of Sir Peter. This is the British Ambassador, Lord Winchester, and these are his twosecretaries. Now, what about this shinny?"

"It was a stem-winder, " says I. "Sir Peter was off side most of thetime; but I don't carry no grouch for that. "

Then I told 'em how I'd done it to keep him off the tracks, and how hegot so warmed up he couldn't stop until he ran out of steam. They werepolite enough after that. We shook hands all round, and I went in andresurrected Danvers, and they got Sir Peter fixed up so that he was fitto go in a cab, and the whole bunch clears out. 

In about an hour Mr. Gordon comes back. He wears one of thewon't-come-off kind, and steps like he was feelin' good all over. "Professor, " says he, "you needn't be surprised at getting a medal ofhonor from the British Government. You seem to have cured Sir Peter ofthe bucket habit. "

"We're quits, then, " says I. "He's cured me of wanting to play shinny. Say, did you find out who the old snoozer was, anyway?"

"The old snoozer, " says he, "is the crack financial expert of England, and a big gun generally. He'd been over here looking into our railroads, and when he gets back he's to make a report that will be accepted as lawand gospel in every capital of Europe. It was while he was working onthat job that his brain took a vacation; and it was your shinny game, the doctors say, that saved him from the insane asylum. You seem to havebrought him back to his senses. "

"He's welcome, " says I; "but I wish the British Government would ante upa bottle of spavin-cure. Look at that shin. "

"We'll make 'em pay for that shin, " says he, with a kind ofit's-coming-to-us grin. "And by the way, Shorty; those few after-dinnerremarks that Sir Peter made about his report--you could forget abouthearing 'em, couldn't you?"

"I can forget everything but the bucket, " says I. 

"Good, " says Mr. Gordon. "It--it's a private matter for a while. "

We took a hansom ride around town until the noon limited was ready topull out. Never saw a car ride do a man so much good as that one back toNew York seemed to do Mr. Gordon. He was as pleased with himself as ifhe was a red apple on the top branch. 

It was a couple of weeks, too, before I knew why. He let it out one dayafter we'd had our little kaffee klatch with the gloves. Seems thathearing Sir Peter tell what he was goin' to report about Americanrailroads was just like givin' Gordon an owner's tip on a handicapwinner; and Pyramid don't need to be hit on the head with a maul, either. Near as I can get it, he worked that inside information for allit was worth and there's a bunch down around Broad street that don'tknow just what hit 'em yet. 

Me? Little Rollo? Oh, I'm satisfied. With what I got out of that trip Icould buy enough shin salve to cure up all the bruises in New York. That's on the foot rule, too. 

CHAPTER V

It was that little excursion with Mr. Gordon that puts me up to sendin'over to Williamsburg after Swifty Joe Gallagher, and signin' him as myfirst assistant. Thinks I; if I'm liable to go strollin' off like thatany more, I've got to have someone that'll keep the joint open while I'mgone. I didn't pick Swifty for his looks, nor for his mammoth intellect. But he's as straight as a string, and he'll mind like a setter dog. 

Well, say, it was lucky I got him just as I did. I hadn't much more'nbroke him in before I runs up against this new one. Understand, I ain'tno fad chaser. I don't pine for the sporting-extra life, with a newred-ink stunt for every leaf on the calendar-pad. I got me studio here, an' me real-money reg'lars that keeps the shop runnin', and a few of theboys to drop around now and then; so I'm willing to let it go at that. Course, though, I ain't no side-stepper. I takes what's comin' an' triesto look pleasant. 

But this little hot-foot act with Rajah and Pinckney had me dizzy for afew rounds, sure as ever. And I wouldn't thought it of Pinckney. Why, when he first shows up here I says to myself: "Next floor, Reginald, for the manicure. " He was one of that kind: slim, white-livered, feather-weight style of chap--looked like he'd been trainin' on Welchrabbits and Egyptian cigarettes at the club for about a year. 

"Is this Professor McCabe?" says he. 

"You win, " says I. "What'll it be? Me class in crochet ain't begun yet. "

He kind of looked me over steady like, and then he passes out a cardwhich says as how he was Lionel Pinckney Ogden Bruce. 

"Do I have my choice?" says I. "Cause if I do I nips onto Pinckney--it'scute. Well, Pinckney, what's doing?"

He drapes himself on a chair, gets his little silver-headed stickbalanced just so between his knees, pulls his trousers up to high-watermark, and takes an inventory of me from the mat up. And say! when he gotthrough I felt as though he knew it all, from how much I'd weigh in atto where I had my laundry done. Yes, Pinckney had a full set of eyes. They were black; not just ordinary black, same's a hole in a hat, butshiny an' sparklin', like patent leathers in the sun. If it hadn't beenfor them eyes you might have thought he was one of the eight-day kindthat was just about to run down. I ought to have got next to Pinckney'smodel, just by his lamps; but I didn't. I'm learnin', though, and if Ilast long enough I'll be a wise guy some day. 

Well, when Pinckney finishes his census of me he says: "Professor, Iwish to take a private course, or whatever you call it. I would like toengage your exclusive services for about three weeks. "

"Chic, chic!" says I. "Things like that come high, young man. "

Pinckney digs up a sweet little check-book, unlimbers a fountain-pen, and asks: "How much, please?"

"Seein' as this is the slack season with me, I'll make it fifty per, "says I. 

"Hour or day?" says he. 

Maybe I was breathin' a bit hard, but I says careless like: "Oh, call itfifty a day and expenses. "

Business with the pen. "That's for the first week, " says Pinckney, and Isee he'd reckoned in Sunday and all. 

"When can you come on?" says I. 

"I'll begin now, if you don't mind, " says he. 

Then it was up to me; so I goes to work. Inside of ten minutes I had afair notion of how Pinckney was put up. He wasn't as skimpy as he'dlooked from the outside, but I saw that it wouldn't be safe to try themitts: I might forget and put a little steam into the punch--then itwould be a case of sweepin' up the pieces. 

"Hold that out, " says I, chuckin' him the shot-bag. 

He put it out; but all there was in him was bracin' that arm. 

"What you need, " says I, "is a little easy track-work in the open, plenty of cold water before breakfast, and sleep in ten-hour doses. "

"I couldn't sleep five hours at a stretch, much less ten, " says he. 

"We'll take something for that, " says I. 

We gets together a couple suits of running-togs, sweaters, towels andthings, and goes downstairs where Pinckney has a big plum-coloredhomicide wagon waitin' for him. 

"Tell Goggles to point for Jerome-ave. , " says I. "There's a track outthere we can use. "

On the way up Pinckney lets loose a hint or two that gives me an outlinemap of his particular case. He hadn't been hittin' up any real paresispace, so far as I could make out. He'd just been trying to keep evenwith the coupons and dividends that the old man had left him, burnin' itas it came in, and he'd run out of matches. Guess there was a bunch ofmillinery somewhere in the background too, for he was anxious about howhe'd feel around Horse-Show time. Maybe Pinckney had made his plans tobe more or less agreeable about then; but when he got a kinetoscopepicture of himself in a sanitarium he had a scare thrown into him. Nextsome one gives him a tip on the Physical Culture Studio and he pikes forShorty McCabe. 

Well, I've trained a good many kinds, but I'd never tried to pump redcorpuscles into an amateur Romeo before. There was the three-fifty, though, and I sails in. 

"Head up now, elbows in, weight on your toes, an' we're off in a bunch!"says I. "Steady there, take it easy! This ain't no hundred-yard sprint;this is a mile performance. There, that's better! Dog-trot it to thethree-quarters, and if your cork ain't pulled by then you can spurtunder the wire. "

But Pinckney had lost all his ambition before we'd got half round. Atthe finish he was breathin' more air than his wind-tanks had known inmonths. 

"Now for the second lap, " says I. 

"What? Around that fence again?" says Pinckney. "Why, I saw all therewas to see last time. Can't we try a new one?"

"Do you think mile tracks come in clusters?" says I. 

"Why not just run up the road?" asks Pinckney. 

"The road it is, " says I. 

We fixed it up that Goggles was to follow along with the goose-cart andhonk-honk the quarters to us as he read 'em on his speed-clock. We werethree miles nearer Albany when we quit, and Pinckney was leakin' like asqueezed sponge. 

"Throw her wide open and pull up at the nearest road-house, " says I toGoggles. 

He found one before I'd got all the wraps on Pinckney, and in no time atall we were under the shower. There was less of that marble-slab lookabout Pinckney when he began to harness up again. He thought he couldeat a little something, too. I stood over the block while the man cutthat three-inch hunk from the top of the round, and then I made a mortalenemy of the cook by jugglin' the broiler myself. But Pinckney did morethan nibble. After that he wanted to turn in. Sleep? I had to lift himout at four G. M. The water-cure woke him, though. He tried to beg offon the last few glasses, but I made him down 'em. Then we starts towardsBoston, Goggles behind, and Pinckney discovers the first sunrise he'sseen for years. 

Well, that's the way we went perambulatin' up into the pie-belt. Firstwe'd jog a few miles, then hop aboard the whiz-wagon and spurt forrunning water. We didn't travel on any schedule or try to make anydates. Half the time we didn't know where we were, and didn't care. When bath-tubs got scarce we'd hunt for a pond or a creek in the woods. In one of the side-hampers on the car I found a quick-lunch outfit, so Igets me a broiler, lays in round steak and rye bread, and twice a day Idoes the hobo act over a roadside fire. That tickled Pinckney to death. Nights we'd strike any place where they had beds to let. Pinckney didn'tpunch the mattress or turn up his nose at the quilt patterns. When itcame dark he was glad enough to crawl anywhere. 

Now this was all to the good. Never saw quite so much picnic weatherrattled out of the box all at one throw. And the work didn't break yourback. Why, it was like bein' laid off for a vacation on doublepay--until Rajah butted in and began to mix things. 

We'd pulled into some little town or other up in Connecticut soon aftersun-up, lookin' for soft boiled eggs, when a couple of real gents inlast-year ulsters pipes us off and saunters up to the car. They spotsPinckney for the cash-carrier and makes the play at him. 

It was a hard-luck symposium, of course; but there was more to it thanjust a panhandle touch. They were all there was left of the ImperialConsolidated Circus and Roman Menagerie. They had lost their top andbenches in a fire, deputy-sheriffs had nabbed the wagons and horses, thecompany was hoofing back to Broadway, and all they had left was Rajah. Would the honorable gentleman come and take a squint at Rajah?

For why? Well, it was this way: They hated to do it, Rajah being an oldfriend, just like one of the family, you might say, but there wasn'tanything else. They'd just got to hock Rajah to put the ImperialConsolidated in commission again. The worst of it was, these herevillagers didn't appreciate what gilt-edged security Rajah was. But hishonor would see that the two-fifty was nothing at all to lend out for abeggarly week or so on such a magnificent specimen. Why, Rajah was asgood as real estate or Government bonds. As for selling him, tenthousand wouldn't be a temptation. Would the gentlemen just step aroundto the stable?

It was then I began to put up the odds on Pinckney. I got a wink fromthem black eyes of his, and there was the very divil an' all in 'em, with his face as straight as a crowbar. 

"Certainly, " says he, "we'll be happy to meet Rajah. "

They had him moored to one of the floor-beams with an ox-chain aroundhis nigh hind foot. He wasn't as big as all out doors, nor he wasn't anyvest-pocket edition either. As elephants go, he wouldn't have made thewelter-weight class by about a ton. He was what I'd call just a handysize, about two bureaus high by one wide. His iv'ry stoop rails had beensawed off close to his jaw, so he didn't look any more wicked than afoldin'-bed. And his eyes didn't have that shifty wait-till-I-get-looselook they generally does. They were kind of soft, widowy, oh-me-poor-child eyes. 

"He is sad, very sad, about all this, " says one of the real gents. "Know? Rajah knows almost as much as we do, sir. "

Pinckney took his word for it. "I think I shall accommodate you withthat loan, " says he. "Come into the hotel. "

Say, I didn't think you could gold-brick Pinckney as easy as that. Oneof the guys wrote out a receipt and Pinckney shoved it into his pockethandin' over a wad of yellow-backs. They didn't lose any time aboutheadin' southeast, those two in the ulsterets. Then we goes back to haveanother look at Rajah. 

"It's a wonderful thing, professor, this pride of possession, " saysPinckney. "Only a few persons in the world own elephants. I am one ofthem. Even though it is only for a week, and he is miles away, I shallfeel that I own Rajah, and it will make me glad. "

Then he winks, so I knows he's just bein' gay. But Rajah didn't seem sogladsome. He was rockin' his head back and forth, and just as we getsthere out rolls a big tear, about a tumblerful. 

"Can't we do something to chirk him up a bit?" says I. "He seems to takeit hard, being hung up on a ticket. "

"There's something the matter with this elephant, " says Pinckney, takinga front view of him. "He's in pain. See if you can't find a veterinary, professor. "

Yes, they said there was a horse-doctor knockin' around the countrysomewhere. He worked in the shingle-mill by spells, and then again inthe chair-factory, or did odd jobs. A blond-haired native turned up whowas sure the Doc had gone hog-killin' up to the corners. So I goes backto the stable. 

"I've found out, " says Pinckney. "It's toothache. He showed me. Open up, Rajah, and let the professor see. Up, up!"

Rajah was accommodatin'. He unhinged the top half of his face to give mea private view. We used a box of matches locating that punky grinder. There was a hole in it big enough to drop a pool-ball into. Talk aboutyour chamber of horrors! Think what it must be to be as big as that andfeel bad all over. 

"I never worked in an open-all-night painless shop, " says I, "but Ithink I could do something for that if I could tap a drug store. "

"Good, " says Pinckney. "We passed one down the road. "

They kept grindstones and stove-polish and dress-patterns there too, butthey had a row of bottles in one corner. 

"Gimme a roll of cotton-battin' an' a quart of oil of cloves, " says I tothe man. 

He grinned and ripped a little ten-cent bottle of toothache drops off acard. "It may feel that way, but you'll find this plenty, " says he. 

"You get busy with my order, " says I. "This ain't my ache, it's Rajah's, and Rajah's an elephant. "

"Sho!" says he, and hands over all he had in stock. I went back on thejump. We made a wad half as big as your head, soaked it in the clove oiland rammed it down with a nail-hammer. It was the _fromage_, all right. And say! Ever see an elephant grin and look tickled and try to say thankyou? The way he talked deaf and dumb with his trunk and shook hands withus and patted us on the back was almost as human as the way a man actswhen the jury brings in "Not guilty. " Inside of three minutes Rajah wasthat kinky he tried to do a double-shuffle and nearly wrecked the barn. It made us feel good too, and we stood around there and threw bouquetsat ourselves for what we'd done. 

Then the cook came out and wanted to know should she keep right onboiling them eggs or take 'em off; so we remembers about breakfast. Callin' for a new deal on the eggs, we sent out word for 'em to fix up atub of hot mash for Rajah and told the landlord to give our friend thebest in the stable. 

Rajah was fetchin' the bottom of the tub when we went out to saygood-by. He stretched his trunk out after us as we went through thedoor. We'd climbed into the car and was just gettin' under way when wehears things smash, and looks back to see Rajah, with a section of thestable floor draggin' behind, coming after us on the gallop. 

"Beat it!" says I to Goggles, and he was reachin' for the speed lever, when he sees a town constable, with a tin badge like a stove-lid, pull abrass watch on us. 

"What's the limit?" shouts Pinckney. 

"Ten an hour or ten dollars, " says he. 

"Here's your ten and costs, " says Pinckney, tossing him a sawbuck. "Goahead, François. "

We jumped into that village ordinance at a forty-mile an hour clip andwould have had Rajah hull down in about two minutes, but Pinckney hadto take one last look. The poor old mutt had quit after a few jumps. Hehad squat in the middle of the road, lifted up his trombone frontispieceand was bellowin' out his grief like a calf that has lost its mommer. Pinckney couldn't stand for that for a minute. 

"I say now, we'll have to go back, " says he. "That wail would haunt mefor days if I didn't. "

So back we goes to Rajah, and he almost stands on his head, he's so gladto see us again. 

"We'll just have to slip away without his knowing it next time, " saysPinckney. "Perhaps he will get over his gratitude in an hour or so. "

We unhitches Rajah from the stable floor and starts back for the hotel. The landlord met us half-way. 

"Don't you bring that critter near my place ag'in!" shouts he. "Take himaway before he tears the house down. "

An' no jollyin' nor green money would change that hayseed's mind. Thewhole population was with him too. While we were jawin' about it, alongcomes the town marshal with some kind of injunction warnin' us to removeRajah, the same bein' a menace to life and property. 

There wa'n't nothing for it but to sneak. We moves out of that burg athalf speed, with old Rajah paddin' close behind, his trunk restin'affectionately on the tonneau-back and a kind of satisfied right-to-homelook in them little eyes of his. Made me feel like a pair of yellowshoes at a dance, but Pinckney seemed to think there was something funnyabout it. "'And over the hills and far away the happy Princess followedhim, ' as Tennyson puts it, " says he. 

"Tennyson was dead onto his job, " says I. "But when do we annex thesteam calliope and the boys in red coats with banners? We ought to havethe rest of the grand forenoon parade, or else shake Rajah. "

"Oh, perhaps we can find quarters for him in the next town, where hehasn't disgraced himself, " says Pinckney. 

Pinckney hadn't counted on the telephone, though. A posse with shot-gunsand bench-warrants met us a mile out from the next place and shooed usaway. They'd heard that Rajah was a man-killer and they had broughtalong a pound of arsenic to feed him. After they'd been coaxed frombehind their barricade, though, and had seen what a gentle, confidin'beast Rajah really was, they compromised by letting us take a road thatled into the next county. 

"This is gettin' sultry, " says I as we goes on the side-track. 

"I am enjoying it, " says Pinckney. "Now let's have some road work. "

Say, you ought to have seen that procession. First comes me andPinckney, in running gear; then Rajah, hoofing along at our heels, asjoyous as a chowder party; and after him Goggles, with the benzinewagon. Seems to me I've heard yarns about how grateful dumb beasts couldbe to folks that had done 'em a good turn, but Rajah's act made themtales seem like sarsaparilla ads. He was chock full of gratitude. He wasnutty over it. Seemed like he couldn't think of anything else but thatwholesale toothache of his and how he'd got shut of it. He just adoptedus on the spot. Whenever we stopped he'd hang around and look us over, kind of admirin', and we couldn't move a step but he was there, flappin'his big ears and swingin' his trunk, just as though he was sayin':"Whoope-e-e, me fellers! You're the real persimmons, you are. "

We couldn't find a hotel where they'd take us in that night, so we hadto bribe a farmer to let us use his spare bed rooms. We tethered Rajahto a big apple-tree just under our windows to keep him quiet, and lethim browse on a Rose of Sharon bush. He only ripped off the rain pipeand trod a flower-bed as hard as a paved court. 

At breakfast Pinckney remarks, sort of soothin':

"We might as well enjoy Rajah's society while we have it. I supposethose circus men will be after him in a few days. "

Then he remembers that receipt and pulls it out. I could see somethingwas queer by the way he screwed up his mouth. He tosses the paper overto me. Say! do you know what them two ulsteret guys had done? They'dgiven Pinckney a bill of sale, makin' over all rights, privileges andgood-will entire. 

"You're it, " says I. 

"So it seems, " says Pinckney. "But I hardly know whether I've got Rajahor Rajah's got me. "

"If I owned something I didn't want, " says I, "seems to me I'd sell it. There must be other come-ons. "

"We will sell him, " says Pinckney. 

Well, we tried. For three or four days we didn't do anything else; andsay, when I think of them days they seem like a mince-pie dream. We didour handsomest to make those Nutmeggers believe that they needed Rajahin their business, that he would be handy to have around the place. Butthey couldn't see it. We argued with about fifty horny-handedplow-pushers, showin' 'em how Rajah could pull more'n a string of oxen ablock long, and could be let out for stump-digging in summer, or as asnow-plough in winter. We tried liverymen, storekeepers, summercottagers; but the nearest we came to making a sale was to a brewerwho'd just built a new house with red and yellow fancy woodwork all overthe front of it. He thought Rajah might do for a lawn ornament and makehimself useful as a fountain during dry spells, but when he noticed thatRajah didn't have any tusks he said it was all off. He knew where hecould buy a whole cast-iron menagerie, with all the frills thrown in, athalf the price. 

And we wa'n't holding Rajah at any swell figure. He was on the bargaincounter when the sale began. Every day was a fifty-per-cent. Clearancewith us. We were closing out our line of elephants on account ofretiring from business, and Rajah was a remnant. 

But they wouldn't buy. Generally they threatened to set the dogs on us. It was worse than trying to sell a cargo of fur overcoats in Panama. Intime it began to leak through into our heads that Rajah wa'n'tnegotiable. Didn't seem to trouble him any. He was just as glad to bewith us as at first, followed us around like a pet poodle, and got awaywith his bale of hay as regular as a Rialto hamfatter raidin' the freelunch. 

"Is it a life sentence, Pinckney?" says I. "Is this twin foster-brotheract to a mislaid elephant to be a continuous performance? If it is we'dbetter hit the circuit regular and draw our dough on salary day. For me, I'm sick of havin' folks act like we was a quarantine station. Let'sanchor Rajah to something solid and skiddoo. "

But Pinckney couldn't stand it to think of Rajah being left to suffer. He was gettin' kind of sore on the business, just the same. Then heplucks a thought. We wires to a friend of his in Newport to run down tothe big circus headquarters and jolly them into sending anelephant-trainer up to us. 

"A trainer will know how to coax Rajah off, " says he, "and perhaps hewill take him as a gift. "

"It's easy money, " says I. 

But it wasn't. That duck at Newport sends back a message that coversfour sheets of yellow paper, tellin' how glad he was to get track ofPinckney again and how he must come down right away. Oh, they wantedPinckney bad! It was like the tap of the bell for a twenty-round go withthe referee missin'. Seems that Mrs. Jerry Toynbee was tryin' to pulloff one of those back-yard affairs that win newspaper space--some kindof a fool amateur circus--and they'd got to have Pinckney there tomanage it or the thing would fush. As for the elephant-trainer, he'dforgot that. 

"By Jove!" says Pinckney, real sassy like. 

"That's drawin' it mild, " says I. "Would you like the loan of a fewable-bodied cuss-words?"

"But I have an idea, " says Pinckney. 

"Handcuff it, " says I; "it's a case of breakin' and enterin'. "

But he didn't have so much loft-room to let, after all. His first movewas to hunt up a railroad station and charter a box-car. We carpets itwith hay, has a man knock together a couple of high bunks in one end, and throws in some new horse-blankets. 

"Now, " says Pinckney, "you and I and Rajah will start for Newport on thenight freight. "

"Have you asked Rajah?" says I. 

But Rajah knew all about riding in box-cars. He walked up the plankafter us just like we was a pair of Noahs. Goggles was sent off over theroad with the cart, all by his lonesome. 

I've traveled a good deal with real sports, and once I came back fromSt. Louis with the delegates to a national convention, but this was myfirst trip in an animal car. It wasn't so bad, though, and it was allover by daylight next morning. There wasn't anyone in sight but milkmenand bakers' boys as we drove down Bellevue-ave. , with Rajah grippin' therear axle of our cab. I don't know how he felt about buttin' intoNewport society at that time of day, but I looked for a cop to pinch usas second-story men. 

We fetches up at the swellest kind of a ranch you ever saw, iron gatesto it like a storage warehouse, and behind that trees and bushes andlawn, like a slice out of Central Park. Pinckney wakes up thelodge-keeper and after he lets down the bars we pikes around to thestable. It looked more like an Episcopal church than a stable, and wedidn't find any horses inside, anyway, only seven different kinds ofgasoline carts. The stable-hands all seemed to know Pinckney and to beproud of it, but they shied some at Rajah and me. 

"This is part of a little affair I'm managing for Mrs. Toynbee, " saysPinckney. "Professor McCabe and Rajah will stay here for a day or two, strictly _in cog. _, you know. "

What Pinckney says seemed to be rules and regulations there, so Rajahand I got the glad hand after that. And for a stable visit it was thebest that ever happened. I've stopped at lots of two-dollar houses thatwould have looked like Bowery lodgings alongside of that stable. And oneof the boys thought he could handle the mitts some. Yes, that _in cog. _business wasn't so worse, at fifty per. 

All this time Pinckney was as busy as the man at the ticket window, onlydroppin' in once or twice after dark to see if Rajah was stayin' good. The show was being knocked into shape and Pinckney was master ofceremonies. I knew he was goin' to work Rajah in somehow; but he didn'thave any time to put me next and I never tumbled until he'd sprung thetrick. 

About the third day things began to hum around the Toynbee place. A gangof tentmen came with a round top and put it up. They strung a lot ofside-show banners too, and built lemonade-stands in the shrubbery. If ithadn't been for the Johnnie boys in hot clothes strollin' around you'dthought a real one-ring wagon-show had struck town. But say, that bunchof clowns and bum bareback riders had papas who could have given 'em aForepaugh outfit every birthday. 

Early next morning I got the tip from Pinckney to sneak Rajah out of thestable and over into the dressin'-tent. The way that old chap's eyesglistened when he saw the banners and things was a wonder. He sure didknow a heap, that Rajah. He was as excited and anxious as a new chorusgirl at a fall opening; but when I gave him the word he held himself in. 

Just before the grand entry I got a peek at the house, and it was aswell mob: same folks that you'll see at the Horse Show, only therewasn't no dollar-a-head push to rubber at 'em, as they wa'n't onexhibition. They was just out for fun, and I guess they know how to haveit, seein' that's their steady job. 

Number four on the programme was put down as: "Mr. Lionel Pinckney OgdenBruce, with his wonderfully life-like elephant Rajah. " I heard thebarker givin' his song an' dance about the act, and he got a great hand. Then Pinckney goes on and the crowd howls. 

You see, he'd had a loose canvas suit, like pajamas, made for Rajah, andstuffed out with straw. It was painted to look something like elephanthide, but some of the straw had been left sticking through the seams. With Rajah sewed inside of this, he looked like a rank imitation ofhimself. 

"Fake, fake!" they yells at 'em as they showed up. "Who's playing thehind legs, Lionel?" and a lot of things like that. They threw peanutsand apples at Rajah, and generally enjoyed themselves. 

Then all of a sudden Pinckney pulls the puckering string, yanks off thepadding, and out walks old Rajah as chipper as Billy Jerome. Fetch 'em?Well, say! You've seen a gang of school-kids when the sleight-of-handman makes a pass over the egg in the hat and pulls out a live rabbit?These folks acted the same way. They howled, they hee-hawed, theyjumped up and down on the seats. 

They'd been lookin' for the same old elephant with two men inside, thegood old chestnut that they'd been tryin' to laugh over for years, andwhen this philopena was sprung on 'em they were as tickled as a babywith a jack-in-the-box. It wouldn't have got more'n one laugh out of acrowd of every-day folks, but that swell mob just went wild over it. Itwas a new stunt, done special for them by one of their own crowd. 

Was Pinckney it? Why, he was the whole show! They kept him and Rajah inthe ring for half an hour, and they let loose every time Rajah liftedhis trunk or napped his ears. When he got 'em quiet Pinckney made aspeech. He said he was happy to say that the grand door prize, asannounced on the hand-bills, had been drawn by Mrs. Jeremiah Toynbee, and that Rajah was the prize. Would she take it with her, or have itsent?

You've heard of Mrs. Jerry. She's a real sport, she is. She's the onethat stirred up all that fuss by takin' her tame panther down toBailey's Beach with her. And Mrs. Jerry wasn't goin' back on herreputation or missin' any two-page ads. In the papers. 

"You may send him, please, " says Mrs. Jerry. 

Maybe they thought that was all a part of Pinckney's fake. They didn'tknow how hard we'd tried to unload Rajah. We didn't do any lingerin'around. While the show was goin' on we sneaks out of the back of thetent with Rajah and across to the stable. The rest was easy. He'd got soused to seein' me there that I reckon he'd sized it up for my regularhang-out, so when we ties him up fast and slides out easy, one at atime, he never mistrusts. 

"Professor, " says Pinckney, "it seems to me that this is an excellentopportunity for us to go away. "

"It's all of that, " says I, "and let's make it a quick shift. "

We did. Goggles shook us up some on the way down, but we hit Broadway intime for breakfast. 

CHAPTER VI

You didn't happen to see Pinckney at the last Horse Show, did you? Well, you'd never known him for the same ambulance fare that dropped into theStudio that day. He's been on the 'rock for two months now, and hisnerves are as steady as a truck horse. There's more meat on him, too, than there was. I don't have to have a dustpan ready, in case I shouldjolt him one. 

But say, next time any two-by-four chappy floats in here for a privatecourse, I gets plans and specifications before I takes him on. No moreRajah business in mine. See?

There's another thing, too. I'm thinkin' of hirin' a husky boy with aclub to do the turnkey act for me. Or maybe I could get out aninjunction against myself to keep me from leavin' home. What I need is alife sentence to stay in little old New York. It's the only place wherethings happen reg'lar and sensible. If you see rocks flyin' round in theair, or a new building doin' the hoochee-coochee an' sheddin' itscornices, or manhole covers poppin' off, you know just what'sup--nothing but a little stick dynamite handled careless, or somemislaid gas touched off by a plumber. 

But the minute I lets some one lead me across a ferry, or beyond theBronx, the event card is on the blink, and I'm a bunky-doodle boy. Long's I don't get more'n a mile from Forty-Second-st. , I'm ProfessorMcCabe, and the cops pass me the time of day. Outside of that I'm astray, and anyone that gets the fit ties a can to me. 

It was my mix-up with that Blenmont aggregation that stirs me up. Pinckney was at the bottom of this, too. Course, I can't register anykick; for when it comes to doing the hair-trigger friendship act, Pinckney's the real skookum preferred. But this was once when he slippedme a blank. 

Looked like bein' fed with a spoon, too, at the start. All I had to dowas to take the one-thirty-six out to Blenmont, put in an hour withJarvis, catch the three-fifty back, and charge anything I had the frontto name. What's more, I kind of cottoned to Jarvis, from the drop of thehat. 

He was waitin' at the station for me, with a high-wheeled cart, and acouple of gingery circus horses hitched one in front of the other liketwo links of wienerwurst. They were tryin' to play leap-frog as thetrain comes in; but it didn't seem to worry Jarvis any more'n if he wasdrivin' a pair of mail-wagon plugs. 

One of those big pink-and-white chaps, Jarvis was, with nice blue eyesand ashes-of-roses hair. There was a lot of him, and it was wellplaced. He had sort of a soothing, easy way of talking, too, like achurch organ with the soft pedal on. 

Me and Jarvis got acquainted right away. He said he didn't care muchabout the physical-culture game--didn't exactly need it, and he'd beenthrough all that before, anyway--but, mother and sister wanted him totake it up again, and Pinckney'd told what a crackerjack I was; so hethought he might as well go in for it. He said he'd had a little holefixed up where one could do that sort of thing, y'know, and he hoped Iwouldn't find it such a beastly bore, after all. 

Oh, he was a gent, Mr. Jarvis. But what got me was the careless way hejuggled the reins over those two bob-tailed nags that was doin' aragtime runaway, and him usin' only three fingers, and touchin' 'em upwith the whip. It was his lucky day, though, and we got there without anambulance. 

It was somethin' of a place to get to, yes--about a hundred and 'steenrooms and bath, I should say, with a back yard that must have sloppedover into Connecticut some. That's what you get by havin' a grandpop whoput his thumb-print on every dollar that came his way. 

I guess Jarvis was used to livin' in a place like that, though. Hedidn't stop to tell what anything cost, or show off any of thebric-à-brac. He just led the way through seven or eight parlors andpalm-rooms, until we fetched up in the hole he'd fixed up to exercisein. It was about three times as big as the Studio here, and if there wasanything missing from the outfit I couldn't have told what itwas--flyin'-rings, bars, rowin'-machine, punchin'-bags, dumb-bells--say!with a secretary and a few wall mottos, there was the makin's of aY. M. C. A. Branch right on the ground. Then there was dressin'-rooms, a shower bath, and a tiled plunge tank like they have in these Turkishplaces. 

"Lucky you don't go in strong for exercise, " says I. "If you did, Is'pose you'd fix up Madison Square Garden?"

"That architect was an ass, " says Jarvis; "but mother told him to goahead. Fancy he thought I was a Sandow, you know. "

Well, we gets into our gym. Clothes, picks out a set of kid pillows, andhad just stepped out on the rubber for a little warmin' up, when insails a fluff delegation. There was a fat old one, that looked as thoughshe might be mother; a slim baby-eyed one, that any piker would haveplayed for sister; and another, that I couldn't place at all. She wasn'ta Fifth-ave. Girl--you could tell that by the way she wore her hairbunched down on the nape of her neck--but it was a cinch she wasn't anypoor relation. 

[Illustration: Mother, sister, and Lady Evelyn. ]

"Lost their way goin' to the matinée, eh?" says I. 

Jarvis, he gets pink clear down to his collarbone. "I beg pardon, professor, " says he. "It's only mother and the girls. I'll send themoff. "

"That's right; shoo 'em, " says I. 

But mother wouldn't shoo any more'n a trolley-car. "Now, don't be sillyabout it, Jarvis, dear, " says she. "You know how Lady Evelyn dotes onathletics, and how your sister and I do, too. So we're just going tostay and watch you. "

"Oh, come, mother, " says Jarvis; "it isn't just the thing, you know. "

"Ask Lady Evelyn, " says mother. "Why, she's one of the patronesses ofthe Oldwich Cricket Club, and pours tea for the young men at theirgames. Now, go ahead, Jarvis; there's a dear. "

He looks at me for a tip, and that gives him a hunch. "But theprofessor--" says he. 

"Oh, Professor McCabe doesn't mind us a bit; do you now, professor?"says sister, buttin' in, real coy and giddy. 

"I can stand it if you can, " says I, and she tips me a goo-goo smilethat was all to the candied violets. 

"There!" says the mother. "Now go right on as though we were not hereat all. But remember not to be too rough, Jarvis, dear. "

I grins at that, and Jarvis dear looks foolisher than ever. But theladies had settled themselves in front seats, and there didn't seem tobe anything to do but to play marbles or quit an' go home. And say, Idon't know which looked more like a stage-hand caught in front of thedrop, Jarvis or me. We went through some kind of motions, though, untilI begins to get over bein' rattled. Then I tries to brace him up. 

"Little faster with that right counter there, " says I. "And block morewith your elbow. Ah, you're wide open--see?" and I taps him once ortwice. "Now look out for this left lead to the face. Come, use thatright a little. 'Tain't in a sling, is it? Foot-work, now. You side-steplike a truck-horse. There, that's the article. Now let 'em come--block, counter, guard!"

You see, I was doin' my best to work up a little excitement and getJarvis to forget the audience; but it wasn't much use. About all we didwas to walk around and pat each other like a pair of kittens. There'dbeen as much exercise in passin' the plate at church. 

Mother thought it was lovely, though, and sister had that gushy look inher eyes that her kind wears after they've been to see Maude Adams. Lady Evelyn, though, didn't seem to be struck silly by our performance. She acted as though someone had been tryin' to sell her a gold brick. Her nose was up in the air, and she'd turned a shoulder to us, like shewas wonderin' how long it would be before the next act was put on. Couldn't blame her, either. That was the weakest imitation of a sparrin'bout I ever stood up in. 

But there was no stirrin' Jarvis. He'd got stage-fright, or cold feet, or something of the kind. It wa'n't that he didn't know how, for he hadall the tags of a good amateur about his moves; but somehow he'd beenqueered. So, as soon as we can, we quits. Then sister gets her chance togush. She rushes to the front and turns the baby stare on me like I wasall the goods. 

"Oh, it was just too sweet for anything!" says she. "Do you know, professor, I've always wanted to see a real boxing-match; but Jarviswould never let me before. He's told me horrid stories about how brutalthey were. Now I know they're nothing of the sort. I shall come everytime you and Jarvis have one, and so will Lady Evelyn. You didn't thinkit was brutal, did you, Evelyn?"

Lady Evelyn humped her eyebrows and gave me one look. "No, " says she, "Ishouldn't call it brutal, exactly, " and then she swallows a polite, society snicker in a way that made me mad from the ground up. Jarvisdidn't lose any of that, either. I got a glimpse of him turnin'automobile red, and tryin' to choke himself with his tongue. 

"It's something like the wand drill we used to do at college, " sayssister. "Don't you like the wand drill, professor?"

"When it ain't done too rough, I'm dead stuck on it, " says I. 

"I just knew you didn't like rough games, " says she. "You don't look asthough you would, you know. "

"That's right, " say I. 

"Jarvis says that once you knocked out three men in one evening; but I'msure you weren't rude about it, " she gurgles. 

"And that's no pipe, either, " says I. "I wouldn't be rude for money. "

"What is a knockout, anyway?" says she. 

"Why, " says I, "it's just pushin' a feller around the platform untilhe's too dizzy to stand up. "

"What fun!" says sister. 

We makes a break for the dressin'-room about then, and the delegationclears out. On the way back to the station Jarvis apologizes sevendifferent ways, and ends up by givin' me the cue to the whole game. 

Seems that mother's steady job in life was to get him married off tosome one that suited her for a daughter-in-law. She'd been at it forfive or six years; but Jarvis had always blocked her moves, until LadyEvelyn shows up. I guessed that he'd picked her out himself, and wasgettin' along fine, when mother begins to mix in and arrange things. Evelyn shies at that, and commences to hand Jarvis the frappéd smile. This little visit to the sparrin' exhibition the old lady had plannedfor Evelyn's special benefit. 

"But hang it all!" says Jarvis, "I couldn't stand up there and show off, like a Sunday-school boy spouting a piece. Made me feel like a sillyass, you know. "

"You looked the part, " says I. "About one more of those stunts, and LadyEvelyn'll want to adopt the two of us. "

"No more, " says he. "She must think I'm a milksop. Why, she's gotbrothers that are officers in the British army, fellows who getthemselves shot, and win medals, and all that sort of thing. "

Well, I was sorry for Jarvis; for the girl was a good looker, all right, and they'd have mated up fine. But I'm no _schatchen_. Physicalculture's my game, an' I ain't takin' on no marriage bureau as a sideline. So we shook hands and called it a canceled contract. Then Jarvisjerks those circus horses out of a bow-knot and rounds the corner on onewheel, while I climbs aboard the choo-choo cars and gets back nearBroadway. 

I wasn't lookin' to run across Jarvis again, seein' as how me and himhas our own particular sets; but 'twasn't more'n three days before heshows up at the Studio. He was lookin' down an' out, too. 

"Dropped in for a real rough game of pussy-wants-a-corner, " says I, "orshall we make it ring-around-the-rosy?"

"I say, now, Shorty, " says he, "if you'd had it rubbed in as hard as Ihave, you'd let up. "

"Heard from Lady Evelyn?" says I. 

He kind of groaned and fell into a chair. "I tried to tell her aboutit, " says he; "but she wouldn't listen to a word. She only asked if youwere a professor of dancing. "

"Hully chee!" says I. "Say, you tell her from me that I'm a cloak-model, an' proud of it. Dancin'-master, eh? Do you stand for a josh like that?"

"Hang me if I do!" says he, jumpin' up and measurin' off three-footsteps across the floor. "The Lady Evelyn's going back to England in afew days, but before she leaves I want her to have a chance to--well, tosee that I'm not the sort she thinks I am. And I want you to help meout, professor. "

"Ah, say, you got the wrong transfer, " says I. "I'm nothin' but a dub atanything like that. What you want is to get Clyde Fitch to build you anice little one-act scene where you can play leadin' gent to her leadin'lady. "

"You're mistaken, Shorty, " says he. "I'm not putting up a game. Noheroics for me. I'm just a plain, ordinary chump, and willing to let itgo at that. But I'm no softy, and she's got to know it. There's anotherthing: mother and sister have carried this athletic nonsense about farenough. They'd like to exhibit me to all the fool women they know, as akind of modern Hercules, and I'm sick of it. Now, I've got a plan thatought to cure 'em of that. "

For Jarvis, it wa'n't so slow. Say, he ain't half so much asleep as helooks. His proposition is to spring the real thing on 'em, a five-roundgo for keeps, with ring-weight gloves, and all the trimmin's. 

"They've been bothering me for more, " says he. "I haven't heard anythingelse since you were there. And Lady Evelyn's been putting them up to it, I'll bet a hat. What do you say, professor? Wouldn't you give it tothem?"

"I sure would, " says I. "It's comin' to 'em. And I know of two likelyRed Hook boys that's just achin' to get at each other in the ring for afifty-dollar purse. "

"No, no, " says Jarvis. "I mean to be in this myself. It's--it'snecessary, you know. "

"Oh!" says I, looking him over kind of curious. "But see here, do youthink you'd be good for five rounds?"

"I'm not quite in condition now, " says he; "but there was a time--"

You know. You've seen these college-trained boxers, that think they'rehittin' real hard when their punch wouldn't dent a cheese-pie. 

"We'd have to fake it some, " says I. 

"Oh, no, that wouldn't do at all, " says Jarvis. "This must be a genuinematch. I'll put up ten to one, five hundred to fifty; and if I stay thefive rounds I get the fifty. "

"Whe-e-ew!" says I. "It'd be like takin' candy from a kid. I couldn't doit. "

Jarvis, he kind of colored up at that, but he didn't go off his nut. "Ibeg pardon, " says he; "but I have an idea, you know, that it wouldn't beso one-sided as you think. "

Well, say, I've made lots of easy money off'n ideas just like that, andwhen it was put up to me as a personal favor to do it, I couldn't renig. It did go against the grain to play myself for a longshot, though; butJarvis wouldn't listen to anything else, claimin' his weight and reachmade it an even thing. So I takes him on, an' we bills the go for thenext afternoon. 

"I may have to bring up Swifty Joe for a bottle-holder, " says I, "an'Swifty ain't just what you'd call parlor broke. "

"All the better for that, " says Jarvis. "And I'd be much obliged ifyou'd find another like him for my corner. "

Course, there's only one Swifty. He's got a bent-in nose, an' a lop ear, an' a jaw like a hippo. He's won more bouts by scarin' his man stiffthan any plug in the business. He'd been a champ long ago, if it wa'n'tfor a chunk of yellow in him as big as a grape fruit. No, I couldn'tmatch up Swifty. I done the next best thing, though; I sent for GorillaQuigley, and gets Mike Slattery to hold the watch on us. 

Mike gets the hint that this was a swell joint we was goin' to; so heshows up in South Brooklyn evenin' dress--plug hat, striped shirt, andsack coat. I makes him chuck the linen for a sweater; but I couldn'tseparate him from the shiny top piece. The Gorilla always wears aswimmin' jersey with a celluloid dicky; so he passes muster. 

Anyways, when old Knee Pants, the Blenmont butler, sees us lined up atthe front entrance, we had him pop-eyed. He was goin' to ring up thepolice reserves, when Mr. Jarvis comes out and passes us in. 

"They're a group of forty-nine per cents. , " says I; "but you said youwanted that kind. "

"It's all right, " says he. "I've explained to the ladies that a few ofmy friends interested in physical culture were coming up to-day, andthat perhaps they'd better stay out; but they'll be there just thesame. "

He'd got 'em right, too. Just as we'd fixed the ropes, and got out thepails and towels, in they floats; mother beamin' away like a head-light, sister all fixed ready to blow bubbles, and the Lady Evelyn with hernose stickin' up in the air. 

"Professor, will you do the honors?" says Jarvis to me. 

And I did 'em. "Ladies, " says I, "lemme put you next to some sure-firetalent. This gent with the ingrowin' Roman nose-piece is me assistantSwifty Joe Gallagher. He's just as han'some as he looks. "

"Aw, cut it out!" says Swifty. 

"Back under the sink with the rest of the pipes, " says I, out of theside of my mouth. Then I does another duck. "And this here gooseb'ryblond in the Alice-blue jersey, is Mr. Gorilla Quigley, that put Gansout once--all but. The other gent you may have met before, seein' ashe's from one of the first families of Brooklyn--lives under the bridge. His name's Mike Slattery. Now, if you'll excuse us, we'll get busy. "

As I takes my corner, I could see mother beginnin' to look worried; butsister opens a box of chocolate creams and prepares to have the time ofher life. Lady Evelyn springs her lorgnette and sizes us up like we wasa bunch of Buffalo Bill Indians just off the reservation. 

I'd forgot to tip off Slattery that there wasn't any postprandialsexpected of him; so the first thing I knew he was makin' his little ringspeech, just the same's if he was announcin' events at the Never DieAthletic club. 

"Now gents--and ladies, " says he, "this is a five-round go for a stay, between Professor Shorty McCabe, ex-light-weight champeen of the world, and another gent what goes on the cards as an unknown. It's catchweights, an' the winner pulls down the whole basket of greens. Thereain't goin' to be no hittin' after the clinch, and if there's any fouls, you leave it to me. Don't come buttin' in. It's been put up to me tokeep time an' referee this mix-up, and I don't want no help. Youbottle-holders stay in your corners till the count's over. Now are youready? Then go!"

There was a squeal or two when we sheds our bath-robes and steps to themiddle, and I guesses that the ladies was gettin' their first view ofring clothes. But I wasn't lookin' anywhere but at Jarvis. And say, hewould have made a hit anywhere. He had just paddin' enough to round himout well, and not so much as to make him look ladyfied. Course, he was agood many pounds over-weight for the job he'd tackled, but he'd havelooked mighty well on a poster. Honest, it seemed a shame to have tomuss him. 

Jarvis wa'n't there to stand in the lime-light, though. He went right towork as though he meant business. I'd kind of figured on lettin' himhave his own way for a couple of rounds, takin' it easy, an' jockeyin'him into making a showin'; but the first thing I knows he lands a rightswing that near lifts me off my feet, an' Swifty sings out to me to stopmy kiddin'. 

"Beg pardon, " says Jarvis; "but I'm after that fifty. "

"If I'd had a putty jaw, you'd got it then, " says I. "Here's the twin tothat. "

But my swipe didn't reach him by an inch, and the best I could do was toswap half-arm jolts until I'd got steadied down again. Well say, Iwasn't more'n an hour findin' out that I couldn't monkey much withJarvis. He knew how to let his weight follow the glove, and he blockedas pretty as if he was punchin' the bag. 

"You didn't learn that in no college, " says I, fiddlin' for a place toplant my left. 

"You're quite right, " says he, and bores in like a snow-plough. 

We steamed up a little in the second; but it was an even break at that, barrin' the fact that I played more for the wind, and had Jarvisbreathin' fast when Slattery called quits. Gorilla Quigley was onto hisjob, though, an' he gives him good advice while he was wavin' the towel. I could hear him coachin' Jarvis to save his breath and make me do therushin'. 

"Don't waste no time on that cast-iron mug of his, " says Gorilla. "Allyou gotter do is cover up an' stay the limit. "

But that wa'n't Jarvis's program. He begins like a bridge car-rushermakin' for a seat, and he had me back into my corner in no time at all. We mixed it then, mixed it good and plenty. Jarvis wa'n't handin' outany love-taps, either; and I didn't have beef enough to stop ahundred-an'-eighty pound swing without feelin' the jar. I was dizzy from'em all right; but I jumps in close an' pounds away on his ribs until hegives ground. Then I comes the Nelson crouch, and rips a few cross-oversin where they'd do the most good. 

That didn't stop him, though. Pretty soon he comes in for more. Say, Inever see a guy that could look pleasanter while he was passin' out hotones. It wasn't a fightin' grin, same as Terry wears; it was just acalm, steady, business-like proposition, one of the kind that goes witha "Sorry to trouble you, but I've got to knock your block off. " Now, Ican grin, too, until I makes up my mind that it's time to pull the otherchap's cork. But I was never up against any of this polite businessbefore. It wins me, though. Right there I says to myself: "Jarvis, ifyou can keep that up for two rounds more, you're welcome to win out. " Itwas worth the money. 

And just as I gets this notion in my nut, he cuts loose with a bunch ofrapid-fire jabs that had me wonderin' where I'd be if one landed justright. I ain't got it mapped out yet just how it happened; for aboutthen the ladies let go a lot of squeals; but I remembers stoppin' afacer that showed me pin-wheels, an' then I quits fancy boxin'. 

We was roughin' it all over the ring, and Swifty an' the Gorilla wasyellin' things, an' Slattery was yellin' back at them, and the muss wasas pretty as any ten-dollar-a-head crowd ever paid to see, when all of asudden Jarvis misses a swing, and I throws all I had into an upper cut. It connected with his chin dimple like a hammer on a nut. The next thingI knows Swifty has the elbow-lock on me from behind, and Mike isstandin' over Mr. Jarvis makin' the count. 

Well, there wa'n't any cheerin' and shoutin'. I didn't have to shakehands with any crazy bunch, or be toted off to the dressin'-room ontheir shoulders. When I gets so I can look straight I sees mother keeledover in her chair, and sister fannin' her with the chocolate box. Andsay, I felt like a lead quarter. Next I takes a squint at Lady Evelyn. She was standin' up as stiff as a tin soldier on parade, with her eyessnappin' and her fingers clinched. 

Just one of them looks was enough for me. I gets busy with a pail, andgoes to work on Jarvis. He was clean out, of course, but restin' as easyas a baby. We was bringin' him round all right, when I feels a push thatshoves me to one side, and in rushes Lady Evelyn. She gets one arm underhis neck just as he opens his eyes with that kind of a "What's thematter now?" way they has of comin' back. 

Course, it don't last long, that wizzy feelin' and there ain't any hurtto speak of afterward; but I reckon Lady Evelyn don't know much aboutknock-outs. The way she hugs him up you'd thought he'd been halfkilled. We was all lookin' foolish and useless, I guess, when the ladyturns to me and snaps out:

"Brute! I hope you're satisfied!"

Say, it wouldn't have been worse if I'd been caught robbin' a poor box. "Thank you, ma'am, " says I, and fades into the background. 

"Go away, all of you!" says she. 

So Swifty and the other two comes taggin' along behind, and we had alittle reunion in the dressin'-room. 

"On the dead, now, " says Slattery, "what was the foul?"

"Who's claimin' foul?" says Swifty, bristlin'. 

"Why the lady gives it to Shorty straight, " says he. 

"Ah, go dream about it!" says Swifty. "She don't know a foul from a bodywallop. "

"See here, " says I, "you can talk all that over while you're hoofin' itback to the station; and you're due to be on your way in just fourminutes by the clock; so chuck it!"

"I ain't heard no step-lively call, " says Slattery. "Besides, I likesthe place. "

"Well, it don't like you, " says I. "Mr. Jarvis and me have had enough ofyour rough-house society to last us a time and a half. Nowbunky-doodle!"

They was a sore-head trio for fair, after that; but when I'd paid 'emoff, with a fiver extra for luck, they drops out of a window onto thelawn and pikes off like a squad of jail-breakers. I was some easier inmy mind then; but I wa'n't joyful, at that. 

You see, Mr. Jarvis had treated me so white, and he was such a nicedecent chap, that I was feelin' mighty cut up about givin' him the quickexit right before the girl he was gone on. Sure, he'd played for it; butI could see I shouldn't have done it. Knock-outs ain't in my line anymore, anyway; but to spring one right before women folks, and in a swelljoint like Blenmont--say, it made me feel like a last year's straw haton the first day of June. 

"Shorty, " says I, "you're a throw-back. You better quit travelin' withreal gents, and commence eatin' with your knife again. Here's Mr. Jarvisgets you to help him out in a little society affair, and you overdoes itso bad he can't square himself in a hundred years. Back to the junctionfor yours. "

Well, I was that grouchy I wouldn't look at myself in the glass. But Irubs down and gets into my Rialto wardrobe that I'd brought along in asuit-case. Then I waits for Jarvis. Oh, I didn't want to see him, but itwas up to me to say my little piece. 

It was near an hour before he shows up, wearin' his bathrobe, an'lookin' as gay as a flower-shop window. 

"On the level, now, " says I, before he had a show to make any play atme, "if I'd known what a pinhead I was, I'd stayed in the cushion. Howbad did I queer you?"

"Shorty, " says he, shovin' out his hand, "you're a brick. "

"An' cracked in the bakin', eh?" says I. 

"But you don't understand, " says he. "She's mine, Shorty! The LadyEvelyn--she's promised to marry me. "

"Serves you right, " says I, as we shakes hands. "But how does she allowto get back at me?"

"Oh, she knows all about everything now, " says Jarvis, "and she wants toapologize. "

Say, he wasn't stringin' me either. Blow me if she didn't. And sister?"You're horrid!" says she. "Perfectly horrid. So there!" Now can youbeat 'em? But, as I've said before, when it comes to figurin' on whatwomen or horses'll do, I'm a four-flusher. 

CHAPTER VII

No, I ain't goin' out to Blenmont these days. Jarvis does his exercisin'here, and he says his mother's havin' a ball room made out of that gym. 

I've been stickin' to the pavements, like I said I would. Lookin'cheerful, too? Why not? If you'd been a minute sooner you'd heard mewobblin' "Please, Ma-ma, nail a rose on me. " But say, I'll give you thetale, and then maybe you can write your own ticket. 

You see, I'd left Swifty Joe runnin' the Physical Culture Studio, and Iwas doin' a lap up the sunny side of the avenue, just to give my holidayregalia an airing. I wasn't thinkin' a stroke, only just breathin' deepand feelin' glad I was right there and nowhere else--you know how theavenue's likely to go to your head these spring days, with the carriagefolks swampin' the traffic squad, and everybody that is anybody right onthe spot or hurrying to get there, and everyone of 'em as fit andfinished as so many prize-winners at a fair?

Well, I wasn't lookin' for anything to come my way, when all of a suddenI sees a goggle-capped tiger throw open the door of one of themplate-glass benzine broughams at the curb, and bend over like he has apain under his vest. I was just side-steppin' to make room for someupholstered old battle-ax that I supposed owned the rig, when I feels ahand on my elbow and hear some one say: "Why, Shorty McCabe! is thatyou?"

She was a dream, all right--one of your princess-cut girls, with thekind of clothes on that would make a turkey-red check-book turn pale. But you couldn't fool me, even if she had put a Marcelle crimp in thatcarroty hair of hers, and washed off the freckles and biscuit flour. Youcan't change Irish-blue eyes, can you? And when you've come to know avoice that's got a range from maple-sugar to mixed pickles, you don'tforget it, either. Know her? Say, I was brought up next door toSullivan's boarding-house. 

"You didn't take me for King Eddie, did you, Miss Sullivan?" says I. 

"I might by the clothes, " says she, runnin' her eyes over me, "only Isee you've got him beat a mile. But why the Miss Sullivan?"

"Because I've mislaid your weddin'-card, and there's been other thingson my mind than you since our last reunion, " says I. "But I'm chawmed tomeet you again, rully, " and I begins to edge off. 

"You act it, " says she. "You look tickled to death--almost. But I'mpleased enough for two. Anyway, I'm in need of a man of about yourweight to take a ride with me. So step lively, Shorty, and don't standthere scaring trade away from the silver shop. Come, jump in. "

"Not me, " says I. "I never butts into places where there's apt to be ahubby to ask who's who and what's what. "

"But there isn't any hubby now, " says she. 

"North Dakotaed him?" says I. 

"No, " says she; "I've got a decree good in any State. His friends calledit heart failure. I can't because I used to settle his bar bills. You'renot shy of widows, are you?"

Now say, there's widows and widows--grass, baled hay, and otherkinds--and most of 'em I passes up on general principles, along withchorus girls and lady demonstrators; but somehow I couldn't seem toplace Sadie Sullivan in that line. Why, her mother 'n' mine used toborrow cupfuls of flour of each other over the back fence, and it was tolick a feller who'd yelled "brick-top" after Sadie that started me totakin' my first boxin' lessons in Mike Quigley's barn. 

"I ain't much used to traveling in one of these rubber-tired showwindows, " says I; "but for the sake of old times I'll chance it once, "and with that I climbs in; the tiger puts on the time-lock, and wejoins the procession. "Your car's all to the giddy, " I remarks. "Didn'tit leave you some short of breath after blowin' yourself to this, Sadie?"

"I buy it by the month, " says she, "including Jeems and Henri in front. It comes higher that way; but who cares?"

"Oh, " says I, "he left a barrel, then?"

"A cellarful, " says Sadie. 

And on the way up towards the park I gets the scenario of the acts I'dmissed. His name was Dipworthy--you've seen it on the labels, "Dipworthy's Drowsy Drops, Younsgters Yearn for 'Em"--only he wasDipworthy, jr. , and knew as little about the "Drop" business as onlysons usually do about such things. Drops wa'n't his long suit; quartscame nearer being his size. 

It was while he was having a sober spell that he married Sadie; but thatwas about the last one he ever had. She stuck to him, though; let himchase her with guns and hammer her with the furniture, until the purplemonkeys got him for good and all. Then she cashed in the "Drop"business, settled a life-insurance president's salary on her mother, bought a string of runnin' ponies for her kid brother, and then hit NewYork, with the notion that here was where you could get anything you hadthe price to pay for. 

"But I made a wrong guess, Shorty, " says she. "It isn't all in havingthe money; it's in knowing how to make it get you the things you want. "

"There's plenty would like to give you lessons in that, " says I. 

"You?" says she. 

"Say, do I look like a con. Man?" says I. 

"There, there, Shorty!" says she. "I knew better, only I've beengold-bricked so much lately that I'd almost suspect my own grandmother. I've got two maids who steal my dresses and rings; a lady companion whonags me about the way I talk, and who hates me alive because I canafford to hire her; and even the hotel manager makes me pay double ratesbecause I look too young for a real widow. Do you know, there are timeswhen I almost miss the late Dippy. Were you ever real lonesome, Shorty?"

"Once or twice, " says I, "when I was far from Broadway. "

"That's nothing, " says she, "to being lonesome _on_ Broadway. And I'vebeen so lonesome in a theatre box, with two thousand people in plainsight, that I've dropped tears down on the trombone player in theorchestra. And I was lonesome just now, when I picked you up back there. I had been into that big jewelry store, buying things I didn't want, just for the sake of having some one to talk to. "

"Ah, say, " says I, "cut it in smaller chunks, Sadie. I'm no pelican. "

"You don't believe me?" says she. 

"I know this little old burg too well, " says I. "Why, with ahundred-dollar bill I can buy more society than you could put in ahall. "

"But don't you see, Shorty, " says she, "that the kind you can buy isn'tworth having? You don't buy yours, do you? And I don't want to buy mine. I want to swap even. I'm not a freak, nor a foreigner, nor a quarantinesuspect. Look at all these women going past--what's the differencebetween us? But they're not lonesome, I'll bet. They have friends anddear enemies by the hundreds, while I haven't either. There isn't asingle home on this whole island where I can step up and ring the frontdoor-bell. I feel like a tramp hanging to the back of a parlor-car. Whatgood does my money do me? Suppose I want to take dinner at a swellrestaurant--I wouldn't know the things to order, and I'd be afraid ofthe waiters. Think of that, Shorty. "

I tried to; but it was a strain. If anyone else had put it up to me thatSadie Sullivan, with a roll of real money as big as a bale of cotton, could lose her nerve just because she didn't have a visitin'-list, I'dhave told 'em to drop the pipe. She was giving me straight goods, though. Why, her lip was tremblin' like a lost kid's. 

"Chuck it!" says I. "For a girl that had a whole bunch of Johnnies onthe waitin' list, and her with only one best dress to her name at thetime, you give me an ache. I don't set up for no great judge of form andfigure; but my eyesight's still good, I guess, and if I was choosin' alikely looker, I'd back you against the field. "

That makes her grin a little, and she pats my hand kind of sisterlylike. "It isn't men I want, you goose; it's women--my own kind, " saysshe, and the next minute she gives me the nudge and whispers: "Now, watch--the one in the chiffon Panama. "

"Shiff which?" says I. But I sees the one she means--a heavy-weightperson, rigged out like a dry-goods exhibit and topped off withmillinery from the spring openin', coming toward us behind a pair ofnervous steppers. She had her lamps turned our way, and I hears Sadiegive her the time of day as sweet as you please. She wasn't more'n sixfeet off, either; but it missed fire. She stared right through Sadie, just as if there'd been windows in her, and then turned to cuddle abrindle pup on the seat beside her. 

"Acts like she owed you money, " says I. 

"We swapped tales of domestic woe for two weeks at Colorado Springsseason before last, " said Sadie; "but it seems that she's forgotten. That's Mrs. Morris Pettigrew, whose husband--"

"That one?" says I. "Why, she ain't such a much, either. I know folksthat think she's a joke. "

"She feels that she can't afford to recognize me on Fifth-ave. , just thesame. That's where I stand, " says Sadie. 

"It's a crooked deal, then, " says I. 

And right there I began to get a glimmer of the kind of game she was upagainst. Talk about freeze-outs!

"I'll show her, though, and the rest of 'em!" says Sadie, stickin' outher cute little chin. "I'm not going to quit yet. "

"Good for you!" says I. "It's a pastime I ain't up in at all; but if youcan ever find use for me behind the scenes anywhere, just call on. "

"I will, Shorty, " says she, "and right now. Come on down to Sherry'swith me for luncheon. "

"Quit your kiddin', " says I. "You don't want to queer the whole programat the start. I'd be lost in a place like that--me in a sack suit andround-top dicer! Why, the head waiter'd say 'Scat!' and I'd make a diveunder the table. "

She said she didn't care a red apple for that. She wanted to sail inthere and throw a bluff, only she couldn't go alone, and she guessedI'd do just as I was. 

Course, I couldn't stand for no fool play of that kind; but seein' asshe was so dead set on the place, I said we'd make it a 'leven-o'clocksupper, after the theatre; but it must be my blow. 

"I've got the clothes that'll fit into a night racket, " says I, "andbesides, I've got to get a few points first. "

"It's a go, " says she. 

So we made a date, and Sadie drops me at the Studio. I goes right to the'phone and calls up Pinckney at the club. Didn't I tell you about him?Sure, that's the one. You wouldn't think though, to see him and metappin' each other with the mitts, that he was a front ranker in thesmart push. But he's all of that. He's a pacemaker for the swiftestbunch in the world. Say, if he should take to walkin' on his hands, there wouldn't be no men's shoes sold on Fifth-ave. For a year. 

Well, he shows up here about an hour later, lookin' as fresh as thoughhe'd just come off the farm. "Did you say something about wantingadvice, Shorty?" says he. 

"I did, " says I. 

"Religious, or otherwise?" says he. "But it makes no difference; I'myours to command. "

"I don't ask you to go beyond your depth, " says I. "It's just a case oforderin' fancy grub. I'm due to blow a lady friend of mine to theswellest kind of a supper that grows in the borough; no two-dollartabble-doty, understand; but a special, real-lace, eighteen-carat feed, with nothing on the bill of fare that ain't spelled in French. "

"Ah!" says he, "something like _Barquettes Bordellaise_, _poulet encasserole_, _fraises au champagne_, and so on, eh?"

"I was about to mention them very things, " says I. "But my memory's onthe blink. Couldn't you write 'em down, with a diagram of how they look, and whether you spear 'em with a fork, or take 'em in through a straw?"

"Why, to be sure, " says he. So he did, and it looked something likethis:

"_Consomme au fumet d'estaragon_ (chicken soup--big spoon). 

"_Barquettes Bordellaise_ (marrow on toast, with mushrooms--fork only). 

"_Fonds d'artichauts Monegosque_ (hearts of artichokes in creamsauce--fork and breadsticks). "

There was a lot more to it, and it wound up with some kind of cheesewith a name that sounded like breakin' a pane of glass. 

I threw up my hands at that. "It's no go, " says I. "I couldn't learn tosay all that in a month. How would it do for me to slip the waiter thatprogram and tell him to follow copy?"

"We'll do better than that?" says Pinckney. "Where's your 'phone?"

Pretty soon he gets some one on the wire that he calls Felix, and theyhas a heart-to-heart talk in French for about ten minutes. 

"It's all arranged, " says he. "You are to hand my card to the man at thedoor as you go in, and Felix will do the rest. Eleven-fifteen is thehour. But I'm surprised at you, Shorty. A lady, eh? Ah, well! In thespring the young man's fancy gently turns--"

"Ah, say!" says I. "There ain't no call for any funny cracks about this. You know me, and you can guess I'm no Willie-boy. When I get a soft spotin my head, and try to win a queen, it'll be done on the dead quiet, andyou won't hear no call for help. But this is a different proposition. This is a real lady, who's been locked out by the society trust, and whotakes an invite from me just because we happened to know each other whenwe was kids. "

"Oh-ho!" says Pinckney, snappin' them black eyes the way he does when hegets real waked up. "That sounds quite romantic. "

"It ain't, " says I. "It's just as reg'lar as takin' your aunt to asacred concert. "

He seemed to want to know the details, though; so I told him all aboutSadie, and how she'd been ruled out of her class by a lot of stiffs whowa'n't one-two-sixteen with her, either for looks or lucre. 

"And it's a crooked decision, " says I. "Maybe Sadie wasn't brought up bya Swedish maid and a French governess from Chelsea, Mass. ; but she's onvelvet now, and she's a real hand-picked pippin, too. What's more, she'sa nice little lady, with nothin' behind her that you couldn't print in aSunday-school weekly. All she aims to do is to travel with themoney-burners and be sociable. And say, that's natural, ain't it?"

"It's quite human, " says Pinckney, "and what you've told me about her isvery interesting. I hope the little supper goes off all right. Ta-ta, Shorty. "

Well, it began frosty enough; for when it came to pilotin' a lady intothat swell mob, I had the worst case of stage-fright you ever saw. Say, them waiters is a haughty-lookin' lot, ain't they? But after we'd foundFelix, and I'd passed him a ten-spot, and he'd bowed and scraped andtowed us across the room like he thought we held a mortgage on theplace, I didn't feel quite so much as if I'd got into the wrong flat. 

I did have something of a chill when I caught sight of asheepish-looking cuss in the glass. He looked sort of familiar, and Iwas wondering what he'd done to be ashamed of, when I sees it was me. Then I squints around at the other guys and say, more'n half of 'em worethe same kind of a look. It was only the women that seemed right tohome. There wasn't one in sight that didn't have her chin up and hershoulders back, and carrying all the dog the law allows. They treatedthem stiff-necked food-slingers like they was a lot of wooden Indians. You'd see 'em pilin' their wraps on one of them lordly gents just as ifhe was a chair. Then they'd plant themselves, spread out theirdry-goods, peel off their elbow gloves, and proceed to rescue the cherryfrom the bottom of the glass. 

And Sadie? Well, say, you'd thought she'd never had a meal anywhere elsein her life. The way she bossed Felix around, and sized up the otherfolks, calm as a Chinaman, was a caution. And talk! I never had so muchrapid-fire conversation passed out to me all in a bunch before. Course, she was just keepin' her end up, and makin' believe I was doing myshare, too. But it was a mighty good imitation. Every now and then she'dtear off a little laugh so natural that I could almost swear I'd saidsomething funny, only I knew I hadn't opened my head. 

As for me, I was busy tryin' to guess what was under the silver coversthat Felix kept bringin' in, and rememberin' what Pinckney had saidabout forks and spoons. Say, I suppose you've been up against one ofthose little after-the-play-is-over suppers that they serve behind thelace curtains on Fifth-ave. ; but this was my first offense. Littlesuppers! Honest, now, there was more'n I'd want if I hadn't been fed fora week. Generally I can worry along with three squares a day, and when Ido feel like havin' a bite before I hit the blankets, a _sweitzerkase_sandwich does me. But this affair had seven acts to it, and everyone wasa mystery. 

"Why, I didn't know you were such an epicure, " says Sadie. 

"Me either, " says I; "but I'd never let myself loose before. Have somemore _pulley_ from the _carrousell_ and help yourself to the--the otherthing. "

"Shorty, tell me how you managed it, " says she. 

"I've been taking lessons by mail, " says I. 

"You're a dear to do it, anyway, " says she. "Just think of the figureI'd cut coming here by my lonesome. It's bad enough at the hotel, withonly Mrs. Prusset. And I've been wanting to come for weeks. What luck itwas, finding you to-day!"

"Say, don't run away with the idea that I'm makin' a day's work ofthis, " says I. "I'm havin' a little fun out of this myself. There'sworse company than you, y'know. "

"And I've met a heap of men stupider than Shorty McCabe, " says she, givin' me the jolly with that sassy grin of hers, and lettin' go one ofthose gurgly laughs that sounds as if it had been made on a clarinet. 

It was just about then that I looks up and finds Pinckney standing onone foot, waitin' for a chance to butt in. 

"Why, professor! This is a pleasure, " says he. 

"Hello!" says I. "Where'd you blow in from?"

Then I makes him acquainted with Sadie, and asks him what it'll be. Oh, he did it well; seemed as surprised as if he hadn't seen me for a year, and begins to get acquainted with Sadie right away. I tried to give herthe wink, meanin' to put her next to the fact that here was where sheought to come out strong on the broad A's, and throw in thedontcher-knows frequent; but it was no go. She didn't care a rap. Shetalked just as she would to me, asked Pinckney all sorts of foolquestions, and inside of two minutes them two was carryin' on like acouple of kids. 

"I'm a rank outsider here, you know, " says she, "and if it hadn't beenfor Shorty I'd never got in at all. Oh, sure, Shorty and I are oldchums. We used to slide down the same cellar door. "

S'elp me, I was plumb ashamed of Sadie then, givin' herself away likethat. But Pinckney seemed to think it was great sport. Pretty soon hesays he's got some friends over at another table, and did she mind if hebrought 'em over. 

"Think you'd better?" says she. "I'm the Mrs. Dipworthy of the 'DrowsyDrops, ' you know, and that's a tag that won't come off. "

"If you'll allow me, " says he, "I'll attend to the tag business. They'llbe delighted to meet you. "

"Say, " says I, soon as he'd left, "don't be a sieve, Sadie. Just forgetauld lang syne, and remember that you're travelin' high. "

"They've got to take me for what I am, or not at all, " says she. 

"Yes, but you ain't got no cue to tell the story of your life, " says I. 

"That's my whole stock in trade, Shorty, " says she. 

I was lookin' for her to revise that notion when I sees the kind ofcompany Pinckney was luggin' up to spring on us. I'd seen their picturesin the papers, and knew 'em on sight. And the pair wasn't anything butthe top of the bunch. You know the Twombley-Cranes, that cut more ice inJuly than the Knickerbocker Trust does all winter. Why say, to see thehouse rubber at 'em as they came sailin' our way, you'd thought they waspaid performers stepping up to do their act. It was a case of bein' inthe lime-light for us, from that on. 

"Hully chee!" says I. "Here's where I ought to fade. "

But there wasn't any show to duck; for Felix was chasin' over some morechairs, and Pinckney was doin' the honors all round, and the first thingI knew we was a nice little fam'ly party, chuckin' repartee across thepink candle shades, and behavin' like star boarders that had paid inadvance. 

It was Sadie, though, that had the centre of the stage, and I'll bestaggered if she didn't jump in to make her bluff good. She let outeverything that she shouldn't have told, from how she used to wait ontable at her mother's boarding-house, to the way she'd got the frozenface ever since she came to town. 

"But what am I expected to do?" says she. "I've got no Hetty Green gripon my bankbook. There's a whole binful of the 'Drowsy Drop' dollars, andI'm willing to throw 'em on the bonfire just as liberal as the next one, only I want a place around the ring. There's no fun in playing a lonehand, is there? I've been trying to find out what's wrong with me, anyway?"

"My dear girl, " says Mrs. Twombley-Crane, "there's nothing wrong withyou at all. You're simply delicious. Isn't she, now, Freddie?"

And Freddie just grinned. Say, some men is born wise. "Professor McCabeand I are exchanging views on the coming light-weight contest, " says he. "Don't mind us, my dear. "

Perhaps that's what we were gassin' about, or why is a hen. You cansearch me. I was that rattled with Sadie's nerve display that I didn'tfollow anything else real close. 

But when it was all over, and I'd been brought to by a peep at the billthe waiter handed me, I couldn't figure out whether she'd made abull's-eye or rung in a false alarm. 

One thing I did notice, as we sails out, and that was the stoutPettigrew person who'd passed Sadie the pickled pig's foot on the avenuethat afternoon. She was sitting opposite a skimpy little runt with abald head, at a table up near the door where the waiters juggled soupover her feathers every time they passed. Her eyes were glued on Sadieas we came up, and by the spread of the furrows around her mouth I seeshe was tryin' to crack a smile. 

"Now, " thinks I, "here's where she collects chilblains and feels themercury drop. "

But say! would you look for it in a dream book? What does Sadie do butpass her out the glad hand and coo away, like a pouter pigeon on acornice, about being tickled to see her again. Oh, they get me dizzy, women do!

That wa'n't a marker though, to the reverse English carom Sadie takesafter we'd got into a cab and started for her hotel. Was there a jollyfor me, or a "Thank you, Shorty, I've had the time of my life?" Nothin'like it. She just slumped into her corner and switched on the boo-hooslike a girl that's been kept after school. 

"Enjoy yourself, Sadie, " says I. "Only remember that this is a hansom, not a street sprinkler. "

That didn't fetch her; so after a while I tries her again. "What wentwrong?" says I. "Was she stringin' you, or was it the way I wore my facethat queered the show?"

"It's all right, Shorty, " says she between weeps. "And nothing's wrong, nothing at all. Mrs. What's-Her-Name's asked me to stay a week with herat their Newport place, and old Mrs. Pettigrew will turn green beforemorning thinking of me, and I've shaken the hoodoo at last. But it allcame so much in a lump that I just had to turn on the sprayer. You knowhow I feel, don't you, Shorty?"

"Sure, " says I, "just as well as if you'd sent me a picture postal ofthe place you boarded last. "

But say, I turned the trick, didn't I? I didn't know what was comin' outof the box, of course; and maybe I was some jolted at throwin' threesixes to a pair, but there they lay. 

No, I ain't goin' into the boostin' line as a reg'lar thing; but I guessif any amateur in the business gets a rose nailed on him, I ought to bethe gent. Not?

CHAPTER VIII

Did you shut the hall door? That's right. There's no tellin' what'sliable to float in here any time. Say, if they don't quit it, I'll getto be one of these nervous prostraters, that think themselves sick abedwithout half tryin'. Sure, I'm just convalescin' from the last shock. 

How? Now make a guess. Well, it was this way: I was sittin' right herein the front office, readin' the sportin' dope and takin' me reg'larmornin' sunbath, when the door-buzzer goes off, and in drifts about ahundred and ninety pounds of surprise package. 

There was a foreign label on it, all right; but I didn't know untillater that it read "Made in Austria. " He was a beefy sort of gent, withnot much neck to speak of, and enough curly black hair to shingle aFrench poodle. He was well colored, too. Beats the cars, don't it, thegood health that's wasted on some of these foreigners?

But what takes my eye most was his trousseau. Say! he was dressed to theminute, from the pink in his buttonhole, to the mother-of-pearl gloves;and the back of his frock coat had an in-curve such as your forty-fatsisters dream about. Why, as far as lines went, he had Jimmy Hackett andRobert Mantell on the back shelf. Oh, he was a crusher, sure!

"I have the purpose of finding Prof-fes-seur McCabby, " says he, readingit off'n a card. 

"If you mean McCabe, " says I, "I'm discovered. "

"Is it you that are also by the name of Shortee?" says he. 

"Shorty for short, " says I, "and P. C. D. On the end to lengthen itout--Physical Culture Director, that stands for. Now do you want mythumb-print, and a snap-shot of my family-tree?"

That seemed to stun him a little; but he revived after a minute, threwout his chest, lifted his silk lid, and says, solemn as a new notarypublic takin' the oath of office: "I am Baron Patchouli. "

"You look it, " says I. "Have a chair. "

"I am, " says he, gettin' a fresh start, "Baron Patchouli, of Hamstadtand Düsseldorf. "

"All right, " says I, "take the settee. How are all the folks at home?"

But say, there wa'n't any use tryin' to jolly him into makin' a shortcut of it. He'd got his route of parade all planned out and he meant tostick by it. 

"Professeur McCabby--" says he. 

"Don't, " says I. "You make me feel like I'd been transplanted intoFrench and was runnin' a hack-line. Call it McCabe--a-b-e, abe. "

"One thousand pardons, " says he, and tries again. This time he getsit--almost, and I lets him spiel away. Oh, mama! but I wish I could sayit the way he did! It would let me on the Proctor circuit, if I could. But boiled down and skimmed, it was all about how I was a kind ofsafety-deposit vault for everything he had to live for. 

"My hopes, my fortune, my happiness, the very breath of my living, it isall with you, " says he as a windup, hittin' a Caruso pose, arms out, toes in, and his breath comin' hard. 

How was that for news from home? I did some swift surmisin', and then Isays, soothin' like: "Yes, I know; but don't take on about it so. They're all right, just as you handed 'em over; only I asked me friendthe Sarge to lock 'em up till you called. We'll walk around and see theSarge right away. "

"Ah!" says he, battin' his noble brow, "you do not comprehend. You maketo laugh. And me, I come to you from the adorable Sadie. "

"Sadie?" says I. "Sadie Sullivan that was?"

He bows and grins. 

"If you've got credentials from Sadie, " says I, "it's all right. Now, what's doing? Does she want me to match samples, or show you the sightsalong the White Lane?"

"Ah, the adorable Sadie!" says he, rollin' his eyes, and puffin' out hischeeks like he was tryin' the lung-tester. "I drive with her, I walkwith her, I sit by her side--one day, two day, a week. Well, whathappens? I am charm, I am fascinate, I am become her slave. I make toresist. I say to myself: 'You! You are of the noble Austrian blood; thesecond-cousin of your mother is a grand duke; you must not forget. ' Thenagain I see Sadie. Pouff! I have no longer pride; but only I luff. It isenough. I ask of her: 'Madam Deepworth, where is the father of you?' Shesay he is not. 'Then the uncle of you?' I demand. She say: 'I'm shy onuncles. ' 'But to who, then, ' I ask, 'must I declare my honorablepassion?' 'Oh, ' she say, 'tell it to Shorty McCabe. ' Ha! I leap, Ibound! I go to M. Pinckney. 'Tell me, ' I say, 'where is to be found oneShorty McCabe?' And he sends me to you. I am come. "

On the level, now, it went like that. Maybe I've left out some of thefrills, but that was the groundwork of his remarks. 

"Yes, " says I, "you're a regular come-on. I guess the adorable Sadie hashanded you a josh. She's equal to it. "

But that got by him. He just stood there, teeterin' up and down on hispatent leathers, and grinnin' like a monkey. 

"I say, " says I, "she's run you on a sidin', dropped you down acoal-hole. Do you get wise?"

Did he? Not so you would notice it. He goes on grinnin' and teeterin', like he was on exhibition in a museum and I was the audience. Then hegets a view of himself in the glass over the safe there, and begins topat down his astrakhan thatch, and punch up his puff tie, and dust offhis collar. Ever see one of these peroxide cloak models doin' a marchpast the show windows on her day off? Well, the Baron had all thosemotions and a few of his own. He was ornamental, all right, and itwa'n't any news to him either. 

About then, though, I begins to wonder if I hadn't been a little toosure about Sadie. There's no tellin', when it comes to women, you know;and when it hit me that perhaps, after all, she'd made up her mind totag this one from Austria, you could have fried an egg on me anywhere. 

"Look here, Patchouli, " says I. "Is this straight about you and Sadie?Are you the winner?"

"Ah, the adorable Sadie!" says he, comin' back to earth and slappin' hissolar plexus with one hand. 

"We've covered that ground, " says I. "What I want to know is, does shecotton to you?"

"Cot-_ton_? Cot-_ton_?" says he, humpin' his eyebrows like a Frenchballad singer. 

"Are you the fromage?" says I. "Is she as stuck on you as you are onyourself? Have you made good?"

He must have got a glimmer from that; for he rolls his eyes some more, breathes once like an air-brake bein' cut out, and says: "Our luff islike twin stars in the sky--each for the other shines. "

"It's as bad as all that, is it?" says I. "Well, all I've got to say isthat I'd never thought it of Sadie; and if she sent you down here onapproval, you can tell her I'm satisfied if she is. "

I figured that would jar him some, but it didn't. He looked as pleasedas though I'd told him he was the ripest berry in the box, and before Iknew what was comin' he had the long-lost-brother tackle on me, and wasalmost weepin' on my neck, splutterin' joy in seven different kinds oflanguage. Just then Swifty Joe bobs his head in through the gym. Door, springs that gorilla grin of his, and ducks back. 

"Break away!" says I. "I don't want to spoil the looks of anythin' thatSadie's picked out to frame, but this thing has gone about far enough. If you're glad, and she's glad, then I ain't got any kick comin'. Onlydon't rub it in. "

[Illustration: He had the long-lost-brother tackle on me. ]

Say, it was like talkin' to a deaf man, sayin' things to the Baron. 

"She's mine, yes?" says he. "I have your permission, Professeur McCabe?"

"Sure, " says I. "If she'll have you, take her and welcome. "

Now you'd thought that would have satisfied him, wouldn't you? But heacted like he'd got a half-arm jolt on the wind. He backed off andcooled down as if I'd chucked a pail of water over him. 

"Well, " says I, "you don't want it in writin', do you? I'm just out ofpermit blanks, and me secretary's laid up with a bad case of McGrawitis. If I was you, I'd skip back and keep my eye on Sadie. She might changeher mind. "

The Baron thought he'd seen a red flag, though. He put in a worry periodthat lasted while you could count fifty. Then he forks out his trouble. 

"It is not possible that I have mistake, is it?" says he. "I am learnthat Madam Deepworth is--what you call--one heiress? No?"

See? I'd been sort of lookin' for that; and there it was, as plain as areal-estate map of Gates of Paradise, Long Island. Me bein' so free andeasy with tellin' him to help himself had thrown up a horrible suspicionto him. Was it true that Sadie's roll was real money, the kind youcould spend at the store? And say, long's it was up to me to write herprospectus, I thought I might as well make it a good one. 

"Do you see that movin'-van out there?" says I. 

The Baron saw it. 

"And have you been introduced to these?" I says, flashin' a big, wrist-size wad of tens and fives. 

Oh, he was acquainted all right. 

"Well, " says I, "Sadie's got enough of these put away to fill two cartslike that. "

Fetch him? Why, his fingers almost burnt a hole through his gloves. 

"Ah-h-h!" says he, and takes a little time out to picture himselfdippin' into the family pocket-book. 

Course, it wa'n't any of my funeral, but when I thinks of a sure-enoughlive one, like Sadie, that I'd always supposed had a head like abilliard table, gettin' daffy about any such overstuffed frankfurter asthis specimen, I felt like someone had shoved a blue quarter on me. Worst of it was, I'd held the step-ladder for her to climb up where suchthings grow. 

I was gettin' rawer to the touch every minute, and was tryin' to make upmy mind whether to give the Baron a quick run down the stairs, or gooff an' leave him to dislocate his neck tryin' to see the small of hisback in the mirror; when in comes Pinckney, with that little sparkle inhis eyes that I've come to know means any kind of sport you're a mind toname. 

"Hello!" says he, givin' the Baron a hand. "You found him, eh? Hello, Shorty. Got it all fixed, have you?"

"Say, " says I, pullin' Pinckney over by the window, "did you put this upon me?"

He said he didn't, honest. 

"Then take your fat friend by the hand, " says I, "and lead him off wherethings ain't liable to happen to him. "

"Why, what's up, Shorty?" says he. "Haven't you given him your blessing, and told him to go in and win?"

"Switch off!" says I. "I've heard enough of that from the Baron to lastme a year. What's it all about, anyway? Suppose he has laid his plans toMiznerize Sadie; what's he want to come hollerin' about it to me for?I'm no matrimonial referee, am I?"

I knew somethin' was ticklin' Pinckney inside; but he put up a frontlike a Special Sessions judge. "Baron, " says he, callin' over toPatchouli, "I forgot to mention that our friend, the professor, doesn'tunderstand the European system of conducting such affairs as this. Ifyou'll pardon me, I'll make it clear to him. "

Well, he did and a lot more. It seems that the Baron was a ringer in theset where Sadie and Pinckney had been doing the weekend house-partyact. He'd been travelin' on that handle of his, makin' some broad jumpsand quick shifts, until he'd worked himself up, from a visitor's card ata second-rate down-town club, to the kind of folks that quit New York atEaster and don't come back until the snow flies again. They don't squinttoo close at a title in that crowd, you know. 

First thing the Baron hears, of course, is about the Drowsy Drop dollarsand the girl that's got 'em. He don't lose any time after that in makin'up to Sadie. He freezes to her like a Park Row wuxtree boy does to aturkey drumstick at a newsies' Christmas dinner, and for Pinckney andthe rest of 'em it was as good as a play. 

"Huh!" says I. "You're easy pleased, ain't you? But I want to tell youthat it grouches me a lot to think that Sadie'd fall for any suchwad-huntin' party as that. "

"What ho!" says Pinckney. "Here's a complication that we hadn'tsuspected. "

"Meanin' which?" says I. 

"Perhaps it would be better to postpone that explanation, " says he;"but I sympathize with your state of mind, Shorty. However, what's doneis done, and meanwhile the Baron is waiting. "

"It wouldn't surprise me none, " says I, "to hear that that's his trade. But say, what kind of a steer is it that brings him to me? I ain't gotthat straight yet. "

Pinckney goes on to say as how the foreign style of negotiatin' for agirl is more or less of a business proposition; and that Sadie, nothavin' any old folks handy to make the deal, and maybe not havin' thegame clear in her own mind, shoves him my way, just off-hand. 

"To be sure, " says Pinckney, "whatever arrangements you may happen tomake will not be binding, but they will satisfy the Baron. So just actas if you had full authority, and we'll see if there are any littledetails that he wants to mention. "

Sure enough, there was. He handed 'em to me easy; oh, nice and easy! Hedidn't want much for a starter--just a trifle put within easy reachbefore the knot was tied, a mere matter of ten million francs. 

"No Jims nor Joes?" says I. 

"The Baron is accustomed to reckoning in francs, " says Pinckney. "Hemeans two million dollars. "

"Two million cases?" says I, catchin' my breath. Well, say! I had totake another look at him. If I could think as well of myself as that Iwouldn't ask no better. 

"Patchouli, " says I, "you're too modest. You shouldn't put yourself onthe bargain counter like that. "

The Baron looks like I'd said somethin' to him in Chinese. 

"The professor thinks that demand is quite reasonable, considering allthings, " says Pinckney. 

And that went with the Baron. Then he has to shake hands all round, same's if we'd signed terms for a championship go, and him and Pinckneygets under way for some private high-ball factory over on the avenue. Iwa'n't sorry to lose 'em. Somehow I wanted to get my mind on somethingelse. 

Well, I put in a busy mornin', tryin' to teach blocks and jabs to acouple of youngsters that thinks boxin' is a kind of wrist exercise, like piano-playin', and I'd got a pound or so off a nice plump oldBishop, who comes here for hand-ball and stunts like that. I was stillfeelin' a bit ugly and wishin' there was somethin' sizable around totake it out on, when in comes Curly Locks and Pinckney again. 

"Has he made up his mind that he wants my wad, too?" says I to Pinckney. 

"No, " says he. "The Baron has discovered that up where Sadie is stayingthe law requires a prospective bridegroom to equip himself with amarriage license. He thinks he will get one in town and take it backwith him. Now, as you know all about such things, Shorty, and as I havean appointment at twelve-thirty, I'll leave the Baron with you. Solong!" and he gives me the wink as he slides out. 

Say, I had my cue this trip, all right. I couldn't see just why it was, but the Baron had been passed up to me. He was mine for keeps. I couldhang him out for a sign, or wire a pan to him. And he was as innocent, the Baron was, as a new boy sent to the harness shop after strap oil. He'd got his eyes fixed on the Drowsy Drops bank-account, and hecouldn't see anything else. He must have sized me up as a sort of SantaClaus that didn't have anything to do between seasons but to be good tohis kind. 

"So you want to take out a license, do you?" says I, comin' a Mr. Smoothplay. 

"If the professeur would be so oblige, " says he. 

"Oh, sure, " says I. "That's my steady job. A marriage license, eh?"

I had a nineteenth-story view of the scheme he'd built up. He means togo back heeled with the permit from me, with the little matter of thetwo million ready all cinched, and the weddin'-papers in his insidepocket. Then he does the whirlwind rush at Sadie, and as he dopes it outto himself, figurin' on what a crusher he is, he don't see how he canlose. And I suppose he thinks he can buy a marriage license mostanywhere, same's you can a money-order. 

With that I had a stroke of thought. They don't hit me very often, butwhen they do, they come hard. I had to go over to the water cooler andgrin into the tumbler. Then I walks up to the Baron and taps him on thechest. 

"Patchouli, " says I, "you come with me. I'll get you a Romeo outfitthat'll astonish the natives. "

It took me about two hours, chasin' him down to the Bureau of Licenses, and huntin' up me old side partner, Jimmy Fitzpatrick, that's the mainguy there. But I didn't grudge the time. Jimmy helped me out a lot. He'sa keen one, Jimmy is, and when he'd got next, he threw in a lot offlourishes just where they was needed most. He never cracked a smile, either, when the Baron tipped him a dime. 

I didn't let loose of Patchouli until I'd seen him stow away that sealedenvelope, and had put him aboard the right train at the Grand Central. Then I went back to the Studio lookin' so contented that Swifty struckme for a raise. 

That was on a Monday. Long about Thursday I thought I might get wordfrom Pinckney, or some of 'em; but there was nothin' doin'. 

"Somebody's put Curly Locks wise, " thinks I, "or else he's sneaked awayto jump off the dock. "

I didn't have anyone on that afternoon; so I was just workin' off alittle steam on a punchin'-bag, doing the long roll and a few otherstunts. I was getting nicely warmed up, and hittin' the balloon at therate of about a hundred and fifty raps a minute, when I hears somebodybreak past Swifty and roar out:

"Where he iss? Let me to him!"

It was the Baron, his mustache bristlin' out like a bottle-cleaner, andblood in his eye. "Ha-r-r-r!" says he in real heavy-villain style. "Youmake me a joke, you?"

"G'wan!" says I over me shoulder. "You was born a joke. Sit down andcool off; for it's your next, " and with that I goes at the bag again. 

Say, it ain't much of a trick to fight the bag, y'know. Most anyY. M. C. A. Kid can get the knack of catchin' it on his elbows andcollarbone, makin' it drum out a tune like the finish of a Dutch opera. And that's about all I was doin', only chuckin' a few extra pounds intoit maybe. But if you don't know how easy it is, it looks like acurtain-raiser for manslaughter. And I reckon the Baron hadn't any ideaI'd strip as bunchy as I do. 

Course, there's no tellin' just what went on in his mind while he stoodthere. Swifty says his mouth come open gradual, like a bridge drawthat's being swung for a tug; and his eyes began to bug out, and thenoble Austrian assault-and-battery blood faded out of his face same'sthe red does in one of Belasco's sunsets. And pretty soon, when Ithought my little grandstand play'd had a chance to sink in, I throws agood stiff one into the bag, ducks from under, and turns around to singout "Next!" to the Baron. 

But he wa'n't in sight. Pinckney was there though, and Sadie behind him, both lookin' wild. 

"Hello!" says I. "Where's Patchouli? He was anxious to see me a minuteago. "

"He seemed anxious not to, when he passed us on the stairs just now, "says Pinckney. 

"Did he leave any word?" says I. 

"He just said 'Bah!' and jumped into a cab, " says Pinckney. 

"He didn't hurt you, did he?" says Sadie. 

"What, him?" says I. "Not that I know about. But I've got this to tellyou, Mrs. Dipworthy: if you put any high value on your new steady, you'd better chase him off this reservation. "

"Why, Shorty McCabe!" says she, takin' me by the shoulders and turnin'them blue eyes of hers straight at me. "My new steady? That--thatwoolly-haired freak?"

Say, you could have slipped me into the penny slot of a gum machine. Oh, fudge! Piffle! Splash! It's a wonder when I walk I don't make a noiselike a sponge--I take some things in so easy. Is it curious my headnever aches?

Pinckney sees how bad I was feelin', and he cuts in to tell me howthings had worked out. And say, do you know what that Patchouli haddone?

After I left him he goes back tickled to death, and waits for anopenin'. Then, one night when they was havin' a big hunt ball, or somekind of swell jinks, he tolls Sadie into the palm-room, drops to the maton his knees, and fires off that twin-star-luff speech, beggin' her tofly with him and be his'n. As a capper he digs up that envelop, to showher there needn't be any hitch in the program. 

"What's this?" says Sadie, making a sudden grab and gettin' the goods. With that she lets go a string of giggles and streaks it out into theball-room. 

"It is the document of our marriage, " says the Baron, makin' a boldbluff. 

"Oh, is it?" says she, openin' the thing up, and reading it off. "Why, Baron, this doesn't give you leave to marry anyone, " says Sadie; "thisis a peddler's license, and here's the badge, too. If you wear this youcan stand on the corner and sell shoe-laces and collar-buttons. I'dadvise you to go do it. "

It was while the crowd was howlin' and pinnin' the fakir's tag on himthat he began to froth at the mouth and tell how he was comin' down tomake mincemeat of me. 

"That's why we followed him, " says Pinckney--"to avert bloodshed. "

"If he had so much as touched you, Shorty, " says Sadie, "I would havespent my pile to have had him sent up for life. "

"Oh, it wouldn't have cost that much, " says I. "With me thinkin' the wayI did then, maybe there wouldn't have been a whole lot left to send. "

Ah, look away! I ain't tellin' what Sadie did next. But say, she's ahummin'-bird, Sadie is. 

CHAPTER IX

How about him, eh?--the two-spot of clubs in billiard cloth and buttonsat the door. There's no tellin' what the Studio'll have next--maybe asidewalk canopy and a carriage caller. Swifty Joe's gettin' ambitious. Me gettin' mixed up with that Newport push has gone to Swifty's headlike a four-line notice does to the pompadour of a second row chorusgirl. First off he says it's a shame I don't have a valet. 

"Say, " says I, "don't it keep me busy enough remindin' you that I'mstill able to wear my own clothes, without puttin' on an extra hand?"

But after this last stunt he broke out again; so we compromised onCongo. I thought Swifty'd had him made to order, uniform and all; but hesays he found him, just as he stands, doin' the stray act over onSixth-ave. He'd come up from New Orleans with a fortune-tellin' gentthat had got himself pinched for doing a little voudoo turn on the side, and as Congo didn't have much left but his appetite, I put him on thepay-roll at two per and found. And say, I'm stung, at that. To look athim you'd think a ham sandwich would run him over; but he's got acapacity like a shop-lifter's pocket. For three days I tried to feedhim up on the retail plan, and then I let out the contract to afree-lunch supply concern. 

Sure, it gives the joint kind of a swell look, havin' him on the door, and if it didn't act the same on Swifty's head I wouldn't kick. 

On the dead now, I don't care so much about loomin' up in the picture. There's them that it suits down to the ground, and that shows up well infront; and then again, there's a lot of people gets the spot light on'em continual who'd be better off in the shade. I'm a top-gallery boy, by rights, and that's where you'll find me most of the time; but now andthen I get dragged down into the wings with a note. Yes, yes, I'm justback after one of them excursions. 

You see, after we'd shunted Sadie's Baron back on to the goulashcircuit, where he belonged, and Sadie and Pinckney had got over theirmerry fit and skipped off to wake up another crowd of timeassassinators, at Rockywold, or some such place as that, I says tomyself, "Shorty, " says I, "you stick to the physical-culture game andwhittle out the by-plays. "

That's just what I was doin', too, when an A. D. T. Shows up with aprepaid josh from Pinckney, givin' me a special invite to run out andhelp 'em celebrate. 

"Any come-back?" says the boy. 

"No, sonny, " says I; "you can cut the wire. "

Say, Pinckney means all right, and he's done me some good turns; butthat don't put me in his class, does it? Nay, nay, says I. Here's onedinner party that I ducks. And with that I gets busy on one of myreg'lars who's bein' trained to go against two months of foreigncookin'. I hadn't more'n finished with him, though, when there comesanother yellow envelop. This one was from Sadie, and it was a hurrycall. She didn't say much; but I could see heel-prints of trouble allover it. 

"Me for Rockywold, " says I, chuckin' a collar in a suit-case andgrabbin' a time-table off the rack. 

Yes, that was different. Maybe I'm a jay to cast myself for any suchpart; but since Sadie an' me had that little reunion, I've kind of feltthat sooner or later she might be let in for a mix-up where I'd come inhandy, and when it was pulled off I wanted to be within hail. 

Course, I wasn't layin' out no hero act; like showin' up with a can ofgasolene just as the tank ran dry, or battin' the block off'm a villyunin a dress suit. I was just willin' to hang around on the edges and makemyself useful generally. Not that I'm followin' the she-male protectin'business regular. But with Sadie it's another thing. We used to play inthe same alley, you know; and she don't forget it, even if she has comeinto a bunch of green money as big as a haystack. 

She was on hand when I dropped off the smoker, sittin' in the Rockywoldstation rig and lookin' for me with both eyes. And say, what adifference it makes to clothes who wears 'em!

"It's bully of you to come, Shorty, " says she. 

"Oh, I don't know, " says I. "I guess good judges wouldn't call it amedal play. What's loose?"

"Buddy, " says she. 

For a minute I was lost, until she asks if I don't remember theyoungster. "Oh, sure!" says I. "That kid brother of yours, with theeighteen-karat ringlets and a girly kind of face? The Sisters used todress him up in a Fauntleroy suit for the parochial school fair, andmake him look like a picture on an Easter card. Nice, cute little chap, eh?"

"He was cute once--ten or twelve years ago, " says Sadie. "He isn't ascute as he was. He doesn't wear ringlets now--he likes rings better. Andthat's why I had to send for you, Shorty. I couldn't tell anyone else. Oh, the little wretch! If it wasn't for mother I'd cure him of a lot ofthings. "

Well, we had some family history on the way out, beginnin' with the wayBuddy'd been spoiled at home, takin' in a few of the scrapes Sadie hadhelped him out of, and endin' with his blowin' in at Rockywold withoutwaitin' for a bid from anyone. Seems he'd separated himself from thelast stake Sadie had handed out--nothin' new, same old fool games--andnow he wanted a refill, just as a loan, until he could play a tip he'dgot from a gent he'd met in a beanery. 

"And I just wouldn't stand for that, " says Sadie. "Those bookmakers arenothing but swindlers, anyway. I know, because I bet ten dollars on arace once, and didn't win. "

Say, I had a lithograph of Buddy and his beanery tip goin' up against anargument like that. Of course it wa'n't more'n two minutes beforeSadie'd got her Sullivan up. She offered Buddy his choice between arailroad ticket home to mother, or nothing at all. Buddy wouldn'tarbitrate on those lines. He said he was a desperate man, and that she'dbe sorry before night. Sadie'd heard that before; so she just laughedand said the steam-car ticket offer would be held open until night. 

She didn't see anything more of Buddy for a couple of hours, and thenshe caught him as he came up from the billiard-room. Bein' an expert onsuch symptoms, she knew why he talked like his mouth was full ofcotton, but she couldn't account for the wad of bills he shook at her. Buddy could. He'd run across a young Englishman down there who thoughthe could handle a cue. Buddy had bet hot air against real money, andtrimmed his man. 

"That wasn't the worst of it, though, " said Sadie. "After I had got himup to my rooms he pulled out the money again, to count it over, and outcame a three-inch marquise ring--an opal set with diamonds--that I knewthe minute I put my eyes on it. There were her initials on the inside, too. Oh, no one but Mrs. Purdy Pell. "

"Tut, tut!" says I. "You can easy square it with her. "

"But that's just what I can't do, " says Sadie. "She loves me about asmuch as a tramp likes work. She tells folks that I make fools of herboys. Her boys, mind you! She claims every stray man under twenty-five, and when I came here she had three of them on the string. Goodnessknows, I didn't want them! They're only imitation men, anyway. And itwas her ring that Buddy had in his pocket. "

"Maybe he hadn't lifted it, " says I. 

Sadie swallowed a bit hard at that; but she raps out the straight goods. "Yes, he did, " says she. "He must have sneaked it out of her room as hewent down stairs. Think of it! Stealing! He's done a lot of foolishthings before; but I didn't think he would turn out a crook. The Lordknows where he gets that kind of blood from--not from the Sullivans, orthe Scannells, either. But I can't have him put away. There's mother. And he won't mind a thing I say. Now what shall I do, Shorty?"

"Where's Buddy now?" says I. 

"Locked in my clothes-closet, with his hands tied and a gag in hismouth, " says she. "Oh, I can handle him that way, big as he is; and Iwasn't going to take any more chances. But it's likely that Mrs. Pellhas missed her ring by this time and is raising a howl about it. What'sto be done?"

Say, there was a proposition for you! And me just a plain, every-daymitt juggler that don't take thinkin' exercises reg'lar. "Guess you'vepushed the wrong button this time, Sadie, " says I. "But I'll stay inyour corner till the lights go out. Is anyone else on?"

"Not a soul, " says Sadie. 

"That's some help, " says I. "First we'll have a little talk with Buddy. "

I couldn't see what good that would do, but it was up to me to make somekind of a move. 

When they'd landed us under the porte cochere--yes, you'd call itstoppin' at the horse-block--I sails in like I'd come alone, and huntsup Pinckney. 

"What's all this about me bein' needed up here?" says I. "Goin' to makeme Queen of the May?"

"By Jove, Shorty!" says he, "that's a clever idea. We'll do it. "

"Yes, you will--not, " says I. "You'll cut it out. I ain't no wine agent, and I left me rag doll to home; so if there's any funny stunts expected, you tell 'em I've put on a sub. Oh, sure, I'll stay to dinner, but asfor leadin' any cotillions, change the card. "

He gave his word they wouldn't spring anything like that on me, and thenhe called up a waiter in knee pants, and had him show me up to myquarters so I could get me gas-light clothes on before they unlocked thedinin'-room doors. After I'd made a quick shift I slid over into thenext wing, followin' directions, and found Sadie. 

"Mrs. Pell's on the war-path already, " says she. "She's having it outwith her maid now. Come in. "

She'd dug Buddy out of the wardrobe and had him propped up in a corner. 

"Better unstopper him and take off the bandages, " says I. 

And say, he had a lot of language corked up inside of him. It wasn'tvery sisterly, either, and most of it would have sounded better at arace-track; but I shut the transom and motioned to Sadie to let himspiel away, never chippin' in a word, only standing one side and lookin'him over. 

So far as the outside went he was a credit to the family--one of theseslim clean-cut youngsters, with a lot of curly red hair, pinky-whitecheeks, and a pair of blue eyes that had nine kinds of deviltry in 'em. I could figure out how mother might be able not to see anything but goodin Buddy. Hanged if I could get very sore on him myself, and knowin' howhe'd been cuttin' up, at that. 

"Well, " says I, when he'd got out of breath some, "feel any better, doyou?"

"Huh!" says he, givin' me a squint sideways. "Some cheap skate of aprivate detective, eh! You can't throw a scare into me that way, sis. Chase him out. "

"Buddy, " says I, "give up the rings. "

"How'd you know there was more than one?" says he. 

"Give up, " says I, holdin' out me hand. 

He did it, like a little man. There was two besides the marquise; one anemerald as big as a lima bean, and the other a solitaire spark thatcould have been shoved up for three or four hundred. You see, a womanlike Mrs. Purdy Pell generally has a collection of those things lyin'around on her dressin'-table, and; knew if Buddy'd got any, he'd made ahaul. 

"I'm ashamed of you, Buddy, " says I. 

"You needn't be, " says he. "I guess you'd do the same if you had asister that wanted to see you starve in the streets. Oh, you needn'tscrew up your eyebrows, Sadie. It's so. And if you don't cough up athousand and let me go, I'll swipe anything in sight. I can stand beingpinched if you can afford to have me. "

Sadie threw up her hands at that, and began walkin' up and down theroom. "Do you hear that?" says she. "That's the kind of a brother I'vegot. "

"It's something awful, " says I. "Just hearin' him talk makes me feelshivery. It beats the band how wicked some of these cigarette desperadosdo get. Don't, Buddy, or I'll faint. I wouldn't dare stay in the room ifyour sister wa'n't handy to tie you up again in case you started to cutloose. "

"I've got a good notion to push in your face, " says he. 

"Don't pay any attention to him, Shorty, " says Sadie. 

"I won't, " says I; "but I'm scared stiff. "

Just about then, though, Buddy seemed to have got a bulletin over aspecial wire. He was gazin' at me with his mouth open and a puckerbetween his eyes. "What Shorty?" says he. "Say, you ain't Shorty McCabe, are you?"

"Not to you, " says I. "I got to draw the line somewhere, and with badmen I stands on my dignity. I'm Professor McCabe, sonny. "

"Holy cats!" says he. "Honest, professor, I didn't mean a word of it. Itake it all back. Why say, I saw you put out the Kangaroo in tworounds. "

"Then you've had a liberal education, " says I. 

"Gee!" says he, lettin' off some more surprise, and bracin' himself backin the chair like he was afraid of falling off. 

Well say, I've been rode to my dressin'-room on shoulders, and welcomedhome from fights by mobs with brass bands; but for a gen-u-ine ovation Iguess Buddy's little stunt came as near bein' the real thing as any. Dewey comin' back from the Philippines, or Mr. Get-There Hadley landin'in St. Louis with the Standard Oil scalps, wa'n't in it with me bein'discovered by Buddy Sullivan. I couldn't get the key to it then, butI've mapped it out now. Most of his enthusiasm was owin' to the factthat ever since he was fifteen Buddy'd based his claim to bein' a realsport on my havin' come from the same block as he did. 

Anyway, it was a lightnin' change. From being a holy terror, Buddycalmed down to as peaceful a young gent as you'd want to meet. If I'djust shake hands with him once and call it square, he'd follow anyprogram I'd a mind to plan out. 

"Only don't let her send me home to maw, " says he. "Say, they get up atsix in the morning there, and if I don't crawl down by seven maw lugs uptoast and eggs, and talks to me like I was a kid. "

"Well, where'd you like to be shipped?" says I. 

"Aw, come now, professor, " says he. "You don't have to be told that. There ain't but one place where a fellow like me can really live. Youget sis to put me back on Broadway with a few hundred in my clothes, andI'll kiss the Book that she won't hear from me for a year. "

"But how about this jewelry-collectin' fad of yours?" says I. 

"Ah, I wasn't going to carry it off, " says he. "I let her see I had it, on purpose. I'll be good. "

Well, Sadie was willin' to let it go at that, and we was just gettin'this part of the mix-up straightened out lovely, when there came a rapat the door. 

"Quick, " says Sadie. "They mustn't see Buddy or you either, Shorty!"

So Buddy was pushed into the closet again, and I dodges behind a talldressin'-mirror in the corner. It was a red-eyed girl with lumps in herthroat. She said she was Mrs. Purdy Pell's maid. 

"Mrs. Pell's missed some rings, " says she, "and we've been havin' wordsover it. I told her there was a suspicious-looking young man in thehouse that I'd seen comin' out of your rooms awhile ago, and I didn'tknow but what you'd missed some things, too, ma'am. "

"Ask Mrs. Pell to step over here for a minute, " says Sadie. 

"What's doing?" says I, after the maid had left. 

"I don't know, " says Sadie. "I've got to give that jewelry back to thesilly thing first; then we'll see. "

So I handed the trinkets over, and it wasn't long before Mrs. Pell showsup. And say, the minute them two came together the mercury dropped aboutthirty degrees. Bein' behind the glass, I couldn't see; but I couldhear, and that was enough. 

"Here are your lost rings, " says Sadie. 

That's her, every tick of the watch. If she was tackled by agyasticutus, she'd grab it by the horns. 

"Oh!" says Mrs. Pell, gatherin' 'em in; "And how does it happen that youhave them?"

"I'll tell you to-morrow, " says Sadie. 

"I'd rather not wait that long, " says Mrs. Pell. "I prefer to know now. "

"You ought to be satisfied to get them back, " says Sadie. 

"Perhaps, " says Mrs. Pell; "but I'm just a little curious to know howthey got away. My maid thinks the person who took them is still in thehouse. "

"If I listened to all the things my maid says--" begins Sadie. 

"There are maids and maids, " says Mrs. Pell. "I can trust mine. She sawthe man. More than that, Mrs. Dipworthy, she thinks he is hidden in yourrooms. "

"She must have seen my brother, " says Sadie, "or Professor McCabe. "

"It's quite possible, " says Mrs. Pell; "but I shall insist on having theofficers sent for. "

"Why, " says Sadie, "I might have taken them myself, just as a joke. "

"Indeed!" says Mrs. Pell in a polite assault-and-battery tone. "Thenperhaps you will confess as much to the other guests? Will you?"

And that was a facer for Sadie. She'd been keeping a stiff lip up tothis, but she came to the scratch wabbly in her voice. "You wouldn'twant me to do that, would you?" says she. 

"In justice to my maid, I must, " says Mrs. Pell. 

"Well, " says Sadie, "if you're mean enough for that, I suppose I--"

But, say, I couldn't stay under cover any longer, with her bein' pusheddown the chute in that style. I was wise to her game all right. Shemeant to stand up and take all that was coming, even if it put her downand out, just to keep the hooks off that kid brother of hers. And meloafin' back of the ropes with me hands in me pockets! I'd been awelcher, wouldn't I?

"Did I hear my cue?" says I, steppin' out into the lime-light. 

It was a tableau, for fair. Me and Mrs. Purdy Pell didn't do anythingbut swap looks for a minute or so. I can't say just how pleased she was, but I've had better views. She wasn't any dainty, lily-of-the-valleysort. She was a good deal of a cabbage rose, I should say, and carriedmore or less weight for age. She had an arm on her like a fore-quarterof beef. I don't wonder that Purdy Pell skipped to Europe and didn't putin any answer when the proceedin's came up. 

"Are you the one?" says she. 

"No, he isn't, " says Sadie, speakin' up brisk. 

"That's right, " says I; "but it was me brought your finger sparks backto light, ma'am. "

"And where did you find them?" says Mrs. Pell, turnin' the third-degreestare on me. 

"That's a professional secret, " says I, "which I can't give up justyet. "

"Oh, you can't!" says she. "This is interesting. "

And with that she begins to size us up, one after the other. Oh, she hadus tied to the post, with nothin' to do but chuck the knives at us. Fora gallery play, it was the punkiest I ever put up. Here I'd comesplashin' in with both feet, like an amateur life-saver goin' to therescue, and I hadn't done anything but raise the tide. 

Sadie didn't have a word to say. She was just bitin' her lip, andgettin' white about the mouth from the mad in her. And say, maybe HerStoutness didn't enjoy watchin' us squirm. She was gettin' even forevery look one of her Willie boys had ever wasted on Sadie. 

"We'll see if you two can be induced to confide your precious secret tothe police, " says she. "I mean to find out who stole my rings. "

She hadn't more than sent in that shot before the closet door opens, andBuddy comes out, blinkin' like a bat. 

"It's all over, ain't it?" says he. 

"It is now, " says I, and looks to see Mrs. Purdy Pell begin to holler:"Stop thief!"

But it was a case of being off the alley again. Say, I'm glad I wasn'tbackin' my guesses with good money that night, or I'd come home with mypockets wrong side out. Ever see a hundred-and-eighty-pound fairy with adouble chin turn kittenish? That was her. 

"Why, Mr. Sullivan!" she gurgles, throwin' him a Julia Marlowe goo-googlance. 

"Hello, Dimples!" says Buddy. "Oh, they were your rings, were they? Thenit's all right. I just borrowed 'em to scare sister into a cat fit andmake her open up--just for a josh, you know. "

"Why, why!" says Mrs. Pell, lookin' twisted, "is Mrs. Dipworthy yoursister?"

"Sure, " says Buddy. "But say, Dimples, you're the very girl I waswanting to see most. I've got another sure thing, good as a titleguarantee, for the Croton stakes, and if you'll back it for me we'llmake a killing. How about it, eh?"

"Oh, you reckless boy, " says Mrs. Pell, tapping him on the cheek. "Butyou did give me such a lovely tip at the Aqueduct, and--and we'll see. Come, I want to talk to you, " and she put out a wing for him to take. 

As they drifted down towards the terrace Buddy turns and gives us thesassy wink over his shoulder. 

"Looks like we'd lost our job, Sadie, " says I. 

"The silly old moss-agate!" says Sadie. 

Then I goes down and reports to Pinckney, and puts in the rest of theevenin' bein' introduced as the gent that set the Baron Patchouli up inthe shoe-string business. I felt like I'd opened up a jack-pot on afour-flush, but Pinckney and the rest seemed to be having a good time, so I stuck it out. In the morning Buddy goes along back to town with me. 

"Say, professor, " says he, pattin' a roll of twenties in his trouserspocket, "I wouldn't pass this along to anyone else, but if you want toconnect with a hatful of easy coin, just plunge on Candy Boy. "

"That's your beanery tip, is it?" says I. "Much obliged, Buddy, but Iguess after the bookies get all you and Mrs. Pell are goin' to throw at'em they won't need mine. "

 * * * * *

See? It was up to me to push home a great moral lesson, and I done mybest. But what's the use? Next mornin' I takes up the paper and readshow Candy Boy wins, heads apart. 

CHAPTER X

But say, I guess Buddy'll work out all right. There's good stuff in him. Anyways, I ain't losin' my eyesight, tryin' to follow his curves. And mydate book's been full lately. That's the way I like it. If you know howto take things there's a whole lot of fun in just bein' alive; ain'tthere? Now look at the buffo combination I've been up against. 

First off I meets Jarvis--you know, Mr. Jarvis of Blenmont, who's billedto marry that English girl, Lady Evelyn, next month. Well, Jarvis he wasall worked up. Oh, you couldn't guess it in a week. It was an awfulthing that happened to him. Just as he's got his trunk packed forEngland, where the knot-tyin' is to take place, he gets word that someold lady that was second cousin to his mother, or something like that, has gone and died and left him all her property. 

"Real thoughtless of her, wa'n't it?" says I. 

"Well, " says Jarvis, lookin' kind of foolish, "I expect she meant wellenough. I don't mind the bonds, and that sort of thing, but there's thisNightingale Cottage. Now, what am I to do with that?"

"Raise nightingales for the trade, " says I. 

Jarvis ain't one of the joshin' kind, though, same as Pinckney. He hadthis weddin' business on his mind, and there wa'n't much room foranything else. Seems the old lady who'd quit livin' was a relative hedidn't know much about. 

"I remember seeing her only once, " says Jarvis, "and then I was a littlechap. Perhaps that's why I was such a favorite of hers. She always sentme a prayer-book every Christmas. "

"Must have thought you was hard on prayer-books, " says I. "She wa'n'tbatty, was she?"

Jarvis wouldn't say that; but he didn't deny that there might have beena few cobwebs in the belfry. Aunt Amelia--that's what he called her--hadlived by herself for so long, and had coaxed up such a case of nerves, that there was no tellin'. The family didn't even know she was abroaduntil they heard she'd died there. 

"You see, " says Jarvis, "the deuce of it is the cottage is just as shestepped out of it, full of a lot of old truck that I've either got tosell or burn, I suppose. And it's a beastly nuisance. "

"It's a shame, " says I. "But where is this Nightingale Cottage?"

"Why, it's in Primrose Park, up in Westchester County, " says he. 

With that I pricks up my ears. You know I've been puttin' my extra-longgreen in pickle for the last few years, layin' for a chance to place'em where I could turn 'em over some day and count both sides. AndWestchester sounded right. 

"Say, " says I, leadin' him over to the telephone booth, "you sit downthere and ring up some real-estate guy out in Primrose Park and get abid for that place. It'll be about half or two-thirds what it's worth. I'll give you that, and ten per cent. More on account of the fixin's. Isit a go?"

Was it? Mr. Jarvis had central and was callin' up Primrose Park before Igets through, and inside of an hour I'm a taxpayer. I've made big lumpsof money quicker'n that, but I never spent such a chunk of it so swiftbefore. But Jarvis went off with his mind easy, and I was satisfied. Inthe evenin' I dropped around to see the Whaleys. 

"Dennis, you low-county bog-trotter, " says I, "about all I've heard outof you since I was knee high was how you was achin' to quit the elevatorand get back to diggin' and cuttin' grass, same's you used to do on theold sod. Now here's a chance to make good. "

Well, say, that was the only time I ever talked ten minutes with DennisWhaley without bein' blackguarded. He'd been fired off the elevator theweek before and had been job-huntin' ever since. As for Mother Whaley, when she saw a chance to shake three rooms back and a fire-escape for aplace where the trees has leaves on 'em, she up and cried into thecorned beef and cabbage, just for joy. 

"I'll send the keys in the mornin', " says I. "Then you two pack up andgo out there to Nightingale Cottage and open her up. If it's fit to livein, and you don't die of lonesomeness, maybe I'll run up once in a whileof a Sunday to look you over. "

You see, I thought it would be a bright scheme to hang onto the placefor a year or so, before I tries to unload. That gives the Whaleys whatthey've been wishin' for, and me a chance to do the weekend act now andthen. Course, I wa'n't lookin' for no complications. But they comealong, all right. 

It was on a Saturday afternoon that I took the plunge. You know howquick this little old town can warm up when she starts. We'd had theStudio fans goin' all the mornin', and the first shirtwaist lads wasparadin' across Forty-second street with their coats off, and Swifty'dmade tracks for Coney Island, when I remembers Primrose Park. 

I'd passed through in expresses often enough, so I didn't have to lookit up on the map; but that was about all. When I'd spoiled the best partof an hour on a local full of commuters and low-cut high-brows, whokilled time playin' whist and cussin' the road, I was dumped down at acute little station about big enough for a lemonade stand. As the carswent off I drew in a long breath. Say, I'd got off just in time toescape bein' carried into Connecticut. 

I jumps into a canopy-top surrey that looks like it had been stored inan open lot all winter, and asks the driver if he knows whereNightingale Cottage is. 

"Sure thing!" says he. "That's the place Shorty McCabe's bought. "

"Do tell!" says I. "Well, cart me out to the front gate and put me off. "

It was a nice ride. If it had been a mile longer I'd had facts enoughfor a town history. Drivin' a depot carriage was just a side issue withthat Primrose blossom. Conversin' was his long suit. He tore offinformation by the yard, and slung it over the seat-back at me like oneof these megaphone lecturers on the rubber-neck wagons. Accordin' tohim, Aunt 'Melie had been a good deal of a she-hermit. 

"Why, " says he, "Major Curtis Binger told me himself that in the fiveyears he lived neighbors to her he hadn't seen her more'n once or twice. They say she hadn't been out of her yard for ten years up to the timeshe went abroad for her health and died of it. "

"Anyone that could live in this town that long and not die, couldn'thave tried very hard, " says I. "Who's this Major Binger?"

"Oh, he's a retired army officer, the major is; widower, with twodaughters, " says he. 

"Singletons?" says I. 

"Yep, and likely to stay so, " says he. 

About then he turns in between a couple of fancy stone gate-posts, twists around a cracked bluestone drive, and lands me at the front stepsof Nightingale Cottage. For the kind, it wa'n't so bad--one of thosesquatty bay-windowed affairs, with a roof like a toboggan chute, a porchthat did almost a whole lap around outside, and a cobblestone chimneythat had vines growin' clear to the top. And sure enough, there wasDennis Whaley with his rake, comin' as near a grin as he knew how. 

Well, he has me in tow in about a minute, and I makes a personallyconducted tour of me estate. Say, all I thought I was gettin' was acouple of buildin' lots; but I'll be staggered if there wa'n't a sliceof ground most as big as Madison Square Park, with trees, and shrubbery, and posy beds, and dinky little paths loopin' the loop all around. Outback was a stable and goosb'ry bushes and a truck garden. 

"How's thim for cabbages?" says Dennis. 

"They look more like boutonnieres, " says I. But he goes on to tell as howthey'd just been set out and wouldn't be life-size till fall. Then heshows the rows that he says was goin' to be praties and beans and soon, and he's as proud of the whole shootin'-match as if he'd done amiracle. 

When we got around to the front again, where Dennis has laid out a pansyharp, I sees a little gatherin' over in front of the cottage next door. There was three or four gents, and six or eight women-folks. They waslookin' my way, and talkin' all to once. 

"Hello!" says I. "The neighbors seem to be holdin' a convention. Wonderif they're plannin' to count me in?"

I ain't more'n got that out before one of the bunch cuts loose and headsfor me. He was a nice-lookin' old duck, with a pair of white Chaunceysand a frosted chin-splitter. He stepped out brisk and swung his canelike he was on parade. He was got up in white flannels and asquare-topped Panama, and he had the complexion of a good liver. 

"I expect that this is Mr. McCabe, " says he. 

"You're a good guesser, " says I. "Come up on the front stoop and sitby. "

"My name, " says he, "is Binger, Curtis Binger. "

"What, Major Binger, late U. S. A. ?" says I. "The man that did the stuntat the battle of What-d'ye-call-it?"

"Mission Ridge, sir, " says he, throwin' out his chest. 

"Sure! That was the place, " says I. "Well, well! Who'd think it? I'mproud to know you. Put 'er there. "

With that I had him goin'. He was up in the air, and before he'd gotover it I'd landed him in a porch rocker and chased Dennis in to dig abox of Fumadoras out of my suit-case. 

"Ahem, " says the Major, clearin' his speech tubes, "I came over, Mr. McCabe, on rather a delicate errand. "

"If you're out of butter, or want to touch me for a drawin' of tea, speak right up, Major, " says I. "The pantry's yours. "

"Thank you, " says he; "but it's nothing like that; nothing at all, sir. I came over as the representative of several citizens of Primrose Park, to inquire if it is your intention to reside here. "

"Oh!" says I. "You want to know if I'll join the gang? Well, seein' asyou've put it up to me so urgent, I don't care if I do. Course I can'tsign as a reg'lar, this bein' my first jab at the simple life; but ifyou can stand for the punk performance I'll make at progressive euchreand croquet, you can put me on the Saturday night sub list, for a while, anyway. "

Now, say, I was layin' out to do the neighborly for the best that was inme; but it seemed to hit the Major wrong. He turned about two shadespinker, coughed once or twice, and then got a fresh hold. "I'm afraidyou fail to grasp the situation, Mr. McCabe, " says he. "You see, we leada very quiet life here in Primrose Park, a very domestic life. As formyself, I have two daughters--"

"Chic, chic, Major!" says I, pokin' him gentle in the ribs with methumb. "Don't you try to sick any girls on me, or I'll take to the talltimber. I'm no lady's man, not a little bit. "

Then the explosion came. For a minute I thought one of them 'Frisco aguespells had come east. The Major turns plum color, blows up his cheeks, and bugs his eyes out. When the language flows it was like turnin' on afire-pressure hydrant. An assistant district attorney summin' up for theState in a murder trial didn't have a look-in with the Major. What did Imean--me, a rough-house scrapper from the red-light section--by buttin'into a peaceful community and insultin' the oldest inhabitants? Didn't Ihave no sense of decency? Did I suppose respectable people were goin' tostand for such?

Honest, that was the worst jolt I ever had. All I could do was to sitthere with my mouth ajar and watch him prancin' up and down, handin' methe layout. 

"Say, " says I, after a bit, "you ain't got me mixed up with Mock Duck, or Paddy the Gouge, or Kangaroo Mike, or any of that crowd, have you?"

"You're known as Shorty McCabe, aren't you?" says he. 

"Guilty, " says I. 

"Then there's no mistake, " says he. "What will you take, cash down, forthis property, and clear out now?"

"Say, Major, " says I, "do you think it would blight the buds or poisonthe air much if I hung on till Monday morning? That is, unless you'vegot the tar all hot and the rail ready?"

That fetched a grunt out of him. "All we desire to do, sir, " says he, "is to maintain the respectability of the neighborhood. "

"Do the other folks over there feel the same way about me?" says I. 

"Naturally, " says he. 

"Well, " says I, "I don't mind telling you, Major, that you've thrown thehooks into me good an' plenty, and it looks like I'd have to make a newbook. I didn't come out here' to break up any peaceful community; butbefore I changes my program I'll have to sleep on it. Suppose you slideover again some time to-morrow, when your collar don't fit so tight, andthen we'll see if there's anything to arbitrate. "

"Very well, " says he, does a salute to the colors, and marches backstiff-kneed to tell his crowd how he'd read the riot act to me. 

Now, say, I ain't one of the kind to lose sleep because the conductorspeaks rough when I asks for a transfer. I generally takes what's comin'and grins. But this time I wa'n't half so joyful as I might have been. Even the sight of Mother Whaley's hot biscuits and hearin' her singin'"Cushla Mavourneen" in the kitchen couldn't chirk me up. I'd been keenfor lookin' the house over and seein' what I'd got in the grab; but itwas all off. Course I knew I had the rights of the thing. I'd put downme good money, and there wa'n't any rules that could make me pull itout. But I've lived quite some years without shovin' in where I knew I'dget the frigid countenance, and I didn't like the idea of beginnin' now. 

I couldn't go back on my record, either. In my time I've stood up in thering and put out my man for two thirds of the gate receipts. I ain't soproud of that now as I was once; but I ain't never had any call to beashamed of the way I done it. What's more, no soubrette ever had achance to call herself Mrs. Shorty McCabe, and I never let 'em put myname over the door of any Broadway jag parlor. 

You got to let every man frame up his own argument, though. If thesePrimrose Parkers had listed me for a tough citizen, that had come out tosmash crockery and keep the town constable busy, it wa'n't my cue tohold any debate. All the campaign I could figure out was to back intothe wings and sell to some well-behaved stock-broker or life-insurancegrafter. 

It was goin' to be tough on the Whaleys, though. I didn't let on toDennis, and after supper we sat on the back steps while he smoked hiscutty and gassed away about the things he was goin' to raise, and howthe flower-beds would look in a month or so. About nine o'clock he showsme a place where I can turn in, and I listens to the roosters crowin'most of the night. 

Next mornin' I had Dennis get me a Sunday paper, and after I'd read thesportin' notes, I turns to the suburban real estate ads. "Why not own ahome?" most of 'em asks. "I know the answer to that, " says I. And say, aLuna Park Zulu that had strayed into young Rockefeller's Bible classwould have felt about as much at home as I did there on my own porch. The old Major was over on his porch, walkin' up and down like he wasdoin' guard duty, and once in a while I could see some of thewomen-folks takin' a careful squint at me from behind a window blind. IfI'm ever quarantined, it won't be any new sensation. 

It wasn't exactly a weddin' breakfast kind of a time I was havin'; but Ididn't dodge it. I was just lettin' it soak in, "for the good of mesoul, " as Father Connolly used to say, when I sees a pair of everfedblacks, hitched to a closed carriage, switch in from the pike and makefor the Major's. "Company for dinner, " says I. "That's nice. "

I didn't get anything but a back view as he climbed out on the off sideand was led in by the Major; but you couldn't fool me on themshort-legged, baggy-kneed pants, or that black griddle-cake bonnet. Itwas my little old Bishop, that I keeps the fat off from with themedicine-ball work. 

"Lucky he didn't see me, " says I, "or he'd hollered out and queeredhimself with the whole of Primrose Park. "

I was figurin' on fadin' away to the other side of the house before heshowed up again; but I didn't hurry about it, and when I looks up againthere was the Bishop, with them fat little fingers of his stuck out, anda three-inch grin on his face, pikin' across the road right for me. He'dcome out to wig-wag his driver, and, gettin' his eyes on me, he waddlesright over. I tried to give him the wink and shoo him off, but it was nogo. 

"Why, my dear professor!" says he, walkin' up and givin' me theinside-brother grip with one hand and the old-college-chum shoulder-patwith the other. 

I squints across the way, and there was the Major and the girls, catchin' their breath and takin' it all in, so I sees it's no usethrowin' a bluff. 

"How's the Bishop?" says I. "You've made a bad break; but I guess it'sa bit too late to hedge. "

He only chuckles, like he always does. "Your figures of speech, professor, are too subtle for me, as usual. However, I suppose you areas glad to see me as I am to find you. "

"Just what I was meanin' to spring next, " says I, pullin' up a rockerfor him. 

We chins awhile there, and the Bishop tells me how's he been out to laya cornerstone, and thought he'd drop in on his old friend, Major Binger. 

"Well, well, what a charming place you have here!" says he. "You musttake me all over it, professor. I want to see if you've shown as goodtaste on the inside as you apparently have on the out. " And before I hastime to say a word about Jarvis's Aunt 'Melie, he has me by the arm andwe're headed for the parlor. I hadn't even opened the door before, butwe blazes right in, runs up the shades, throws open the shutters, andstands by for a look. 

Say, it was worth it! That was the most ladyfied room I ever put me footin. First place, I never see so many crazy lookin' little chairs, orbow-legged tables, or fancy tea-cups before in my life. There wa'n't athing you could sit on without havin' to call the upholstery man inafterward. Even the gilt sofa looked like it ought to have been in apicture. 

But what had me button-eyed was the wall decorations. If I hadn't beenridin' on the sprinker for so long I'd thought it was time for me tohunt a D. T. Institute right then. First off I couldn't make 'em out atall; but after the shock wore away I see they were dolls, dozens of 'em, hangin' all over the walls in rows and clusters, like hams in a porkshop. And say, that was the wooziest collection ever bunched together!They wa'n't ordinary Christmas-tree dolls, the store kind. Every lastone of 'em was home-made, white cotton heads, with hand-painted faces. Course, I tumbled. This was some of that half-batty Aunt 'Melie's work. This was what she'd put in her time on. And she sure had produced. 

For face paintin' it was well done, I guess, only she must have beenshut up so long away from folks that she'd sort of forgot just how theylooked. Some of the heads had sunbonnets on, and some nightcaps; butthey were all the same shape, like a hardshell clam, flat side to. Theeyes were painted about twice life-size--some rolled up, some canteddown, some squintin' sideways, and a lot was just cross-eye. There wasgreen eyes, yellow eyes, pink eyes, and the regular kinds. They gave methe creeps. 

When I turns around, the Bishop stands there with his mouth open. "Why, "says he--"why, professor!" That was as far as he could get. He gaspsonce or twice and gets out something that sounds like "Remarkable, trulyremarkable!"

"That's the word, " says I. "I'll bet there ain't another lot like thisin the country. "

"I--I hope not, " says he. "No offence meant, though. Do you--er--do thissort of thing yourself?"

Well, I had to loosen up then. I told him about Aunt 'Melie, and how I'dbought the place unsight and unseen. And when he finds this was my firstview of the parlor it gets him in the short ribs. He has a funny fit. Every time he takes a look at them dolls he has another spasm. I getshim out on the porch again, and he sits there slappin' his knees andwaggin' his head and wipin' his eyes. 

By-'m'-by the Bishop calms down and says I've done him more good than atrip to Europe. "You must let me bring Major Binger over, " says he. "Iwant him to see those dolls. You two are bound to be great cronies. "

"I've got my doubts about that, " says I. "But don't you go to mixin' upin this affair, Bishop. I don't want to lug you in for any trouble withany of your old friends. "

You couldn't stave the Bishop off, though. He had to hear the wholeyarn, and the minute he gets it straight he jumps up. 

"Binger's a hot-headed old--well, " says he, catchin' himself just intime, "the Major has a way of acting first, and then thinking it over. Imust have a talk with him. "

I guess he did, too; for they were at it some time before the Bishopwaves by-by to me and drives off. 

I'd just got up from one of Mrs. Whaley's best chicken dinners, when Ihears a hurrah outside, and horses stampin' and a horn tootin'. I rushesout front, and there was Pinckney, sittin' up on a coach box, justpullin' his leaders out of Dennis's pansy bed. There was about a dozenof his crowd on top of the coach, includin' Mrs. Dipworthy--SadieSullivan that was--and Mrs. Twombley Crane, and a lot more. 

"Hello, Shorty!" says Pinckney. "Is the doll exhibition still open? Ifit is, we want to come in. "

They'd met the Bishop; see? And he'd steered 'em along. 

Well say, I might have begun the day kind of lonesome, but it had alively finish, all right. Inside of ten minutes Sadie has on one ofMother Whaley's white aprons and is takin' charge. She has some of themfancy tables and chairs lugged out on the porch, and the first thing Iknows I'm holdin' forth at a pink tea that's the swellest thing of thekind Primrose Park ever got its eyes on. 

CHAPTER XI

No, Nightingale Cottage ain't in the market, and it looks like I'd got asteady job introducin' Aunt 'Melie's doll collection to society; forPinckney carts down a new gang every Sunday. As Sadie's generally onhand to help out, I'm ready to stand for it. Anyways, I've bought afam'ly ticket and laid in a stock of fancy groceries. 

The Maje? Oh, him and me made it up handsome. He comes over and tells meabout that Mission Ridge stunt of his every chance he gets. But say, I'mbeginnin' to find out there's others. It's a great place, Primrose Parkis, and when I sized it up as a sort of annex to a cemetery I'd mistookthe signs. 

It don't make much difference where you are, all you've got to do tokeep your blood from thinnin' out, is to mix in with folks. Beats allhow much excitement you can dig up that way. 

Now, I wa'n't huntin' for anything of the kind, but I was just usin' myeyes and keepin' my ears open, so I notices that out on the main road, in front of the Park, is one of those swell big ranches that hog theshore front all the way from Motthaven up to the jumpin'-off place. Fromthe outside all you can see is iron gates and stone wall and stretchesof green-plush lawn. Way over behind the trees you can get a squint atthe chimney tops, and you know that underneath is a little cottage aboutthe size of the Grand Central station. That's the style you live in whenyou've hit the stock-market right, or in case you've got to be atop-notch grafter that the muck-rakers ain't jungled yet. 

I'd been wonderin' what kind of folks hung out in there, but I'd neverseen any of 'em out front, only gardeners killin' time, and coachmenexercisin' the horses. But one mornin' I gets a private view that wasworth watchin' for. 

The first thing on the program was an old duffer dodgin' in and outaround the bushes and trees like he was tryin' to lose somebody. Thatgot me curious right away, and I begins to pipe him off. He was toggedout in white ducks, somethin' like a window cook in a three-off joint, only he didn't sport any apron, and his cap had gold braid on it. Hishair was white, too, and his under lip was decorated with one of themold-fashioned teasers--just a little bunch of cotton that the barber hadshied. He was a well-built old boy, but his face had sort of a soleleather tint to it that didn't look healthy. 

From his motions I couldn't make out whether he was havin' a game ofhide-and-go-seek or was bein' chased by a dog. The last thought seemedmore likely, so I strolls over to the stone wall and gets ready to handout a swift kick to the kioodle, in case it was needed. 

When he sees me the old gent begins to dodge livelier than ever and makesignals with his hands. Well, I didn't know his code. I couldn't guesswhether he wanted me to run for a club, or was tryin' to keep me frombuttin' in, so I just stands there with my mouth open and looks foolish. 

Next thing I sees is a wedge-faced, long-legged guy comin' across thelawn on the jump. First off I thought he was pushin' one of thesesick-abed chairs, like they use on the board walk at Atlantic City. Butas he gets nearer I see it was a green wicker tea-wagon--you know. Iain't got to the tea-wagon stage myself, but I've seen 'em out atRockywold and them places. Handy as a pocket in a shirt, they are. Whenyou've got company in the afternoon the butler wheels the thing out onthe veranda and digs up a whole tea-makin' outfit from the inside. Whenit's shut it looks a good deal like one of them laundry push-carts theyhave in Harlem. 

Now, I ain't in love with tea at any time of the day except for supper, and I sure would pass it up just after breakfast, but I don't know asI'd break my neck to get away from it, same's the old gent was doin'. The minute he gets a look at the wagon comin' his way he does somelively side-steppin'. Then he jumps behind a bush and hides, givin' methe sign not to let on. 

The long-legged guy knew his business, though. He came straight on, likehe was followin' a scent, and the first thing old Whitey knows he's beenrun down. He gives in then, just as if he'd been tagged. 

"Babbitt, " says he, "I had you hull down at one time, didn't I?"

But either Babbitt was too much out of breath, or else he wasn't thetalkative kind, for he never says a word, but just opens up the top ofthe cart and proceeds to haul out some bottles and a glass. First hespoons out some white powder into a tumbler. Then he pours in some waterand stirs it with a spoon. When the mess is done he sticks it out to theold gent. The old one never lifts a finger, though. 

"Salute, first, you frozen-faced scum of the earth!" he yells. "Salute, sir!"

Babbitt made a stab at salutin' too, and mighty sudden. 

"Now, you white-livered imitation of a man, " says the old gent, "you mayhand over that villainous stuff! Bah!" and he takes a sniff of it. 

Babbitt keeps his eyes glued on him until the last drop was down, thenhe jumped. Lucky he was quick on the duck, for the glass just whizzedover the top of his head. While he was stowin' the things away the oldfellow let loose. Say, you talk about a cussin', I'll bet you neverheard a string like that. It wasn't the longshoreman's kind. But the wayhe put together straight dictionary words was enough to give you achill. It was the rattlin' style he had of rippin' 'em out, too, thatmade it sound like swearin'. If there was any part of that long-leggedguy that he didn't pay his respects to, from his ears to his toe-nails, I didn't notice it. 

"It's the last time you get any of that slush into me, Babbitt, " sayshe. "Do you hear that, you peanut-headed, scissor-shanked whelp?"

"Ten-thirty's the next dose, Commodore, " says he as he starts off. 

"It is, eh, you wall-eyed deck swab?" howls the Commodore. "If you mixany more of that infant food for me I'll skin you alive, and sew you uphind side before. Do you hear that, you?"

I was wearin' a broad grin when the old Commodore turns around to me. 

"If that fellow keeps this up, " says he, "I shall lose my temper someday. Ever drink medicated milk, eh? Ugh! It tastes the way burntfeathers smell. And I'm dosed with it eight times a day! Think of it, milk! But what makes me mad is to have it ladled out to me by thatlong-faced, fish-eyed food destroyer, whose only joy in life is to huntme down and gloat over my misery. Oh, I'll get square with him yet, sir;I swear I will. "

"I wish you luck, " says I. 

"Who are you, anyway?" says he. 

"Nobody much, " says I, "so there's two of us. I'm livin' in the cottageacross the way. "

"The deuce you say!" says he. "Then you're Shorty McCabe, aren't you?"

"You're on, " says I. "How'd you guess it?"

Well, it seems one of my reg'lars was a partner of his son-in-law, whoowned the big place, and they'd been talkin' about me just the daybefore. After that it didn't take long for the Commodore and me to get aline on each other, and when I finds out he's Roaring Dick, the nervyold chap that stood out on the front porch of his ship all through themuss at Santiago Bay and hammered the daylights out of the Spanishfleet, I gives him the hand. 

"I've read about you in the papers, " says I. 

"Not so often as I used to read about you, " says he. 

And say, inside of ten minutes we was like a couple of G. A. R. Vets, ata reunion. Then he told me all about the medicated-milk business. 

It didn't take any second sight to see that the Commodore was a gay oldsport. He'd been on the European station for three years, knockin'around with kings and princes, and French and Russian naval officersthat was grand dukes and such when they was ashore; and he'd carriedalong with him a truck-driver's thirst and the capacity of a ward boss. The fizzy stuff he'd stowed away in that time must have been enough tosail a ship on. I guess he didn't mind it much, though, for he'd been inpickle a long time. It was the seventeen-course night dinners and theforeign cooking that gave him the knockout. 

All of a sudden his digester had thrown up the job, and before he knewit he was in a state where a hot biscuit or a piece of fried potatowould lay him out on his back for a week. He'd come home on sick leaveto visit his daughter, and his rich son-in-law had steered him upagainst a specialist who told him that if he didn't quit and obey ordershe wouldn't last three weeks. The orders was to live on nothin' butmedicated milk, and for a man that had been livin' the way he had it wasan awful jolt. He couldn't be trusted to take the stuff himself, so theyhired valets to keep him doped with it. 

"I scared the first one half to death, " says the Commodore, "and thenext one I bribed to smuggle out ham sandwiches. Then they got thisfellow Babbitt to follow me around with that cursed gocart, and Ihaven't had a moment's peace since. He's just about equal to a job likethat, Babbitt is. I make him earn his money, though. "

You'd have thought so if you could have seen the old Commodore work upgames to throw Babbitt off the track. I put in most of the day watchin''em at it, and it was as good as a vaudeville act. About a quarter of anhour before it was time for the dose the valet would come out and beginto look around the grounds. Soon as he'd located the Commodore he'dslide off after his tea wagon. That was just where the old boy got inhis fine work. The minute Babbitt was out of sight the Commodore makes abreak for a new hidin' place, so the valet has to wheel that cart allover the lot, playin' peek-a-boo behind every bush and tree until henailed his man. 

Now you'd think most anyone with a head would have cracked a joke nowand then with the old gent, and kind of made it easy all round. But notBabbitt. He'd been hired to get medicated milk into the Commodore, andthat was all the idea his nut could accommodate at one time. He was oneof these stiff-necked, cold-blooded flunkies, that don't seem much morehuman than wooden Indians. He had an aggravatin' way, too, of treatin'the old chap when he got him cornered. He was polite enough, so far aswhat he had to say, but it was the mean look in his ratty little eyesthat grated. 

With every dose the Commodore got madder and madder. Some of the nameshe thought up to call that valet was worth puttin' in a book. It seemedlike a shame, though, to stir up the old gent that way, and I don'tbelieve the medicine did him any more good. He took it, though, becausehe'd promised his daughter he would. Course, I had my own notions ofthat kind of treatment, but I couldn't see that it was up to me to jumpin the coacher's box and give off any advice. 

Next mornin' I'd been out for a little leg-work and I was just joggin'into the park again, when I hears all kinds of a ruction goin' on overbehind the stonewall. There was screams and yells and shouts, like aSaturday-night riot in Double Alley. I pokes up a giraffe neck and seesa couple of women runnin' across the lawn. Pretty soon what they waschasin' comes into view. It was the Commodore. He was pushin' thetea-wagon in front of him, and in the top of that, with just his legsand arms stickin' out, was Babbitt. 

I knew what was up in a minute. He'd lost his temper, just as he wasafraid he would, and before he'd got it back again he'd grabbed thevalet and jammed him head first into the green cart. But where he wasgoin' with him was more'n I could guess. Anyway, it was somewhere thathe was in a hurry to get to, for the old boy was rushin' the outfitacross the front yard for all he was worth. 

[Illustration: In the top of the tea wagon, was Babbitt. ]

"Oh, stop him, stop him!" screams one of the women, that I figures outmust be the daughter. 

"Stop 'im! Stop 'im!" yells the other. She looked like one of the maids. 

"I'm no backstop, " thinks I to myself. "Besides, this is a familyaffair. "

I'd have hated to have blocked that run, too; for it was doin' me a lotof good, just watchin' it and thinkin' of the bumps Babbitt was gettin', with his head down among the bottles. 

I follows along on the outside though, and in a minute or so I sees whatthe Commodore was aimin' at. Out to one side was a cute littlefish-pond, about a hundred feet across, and he was makin' a bee line forthat. It was down in a sort of hollow, with nice smooth turf slopin'clear to the edge. 

When the Commodore gets half-way down he gives the cart one last push, and five seconds later Mr. Babbitt, with his head still stuck in thewagon, souses into the water like he'd been dropped from a balloon. Theold boy stays just long enough to see the splash, and then he keepsright on goin' towards New York. 

At that I jumps the stone wall and prepares to do some quick divin', butbefore I could fetch the pond Babbitt comes to the top, blowin' muddywater out of his mouth and threshin' his arms around windmill fashion. Then his feet touches bottom and he finds he ain't in any danger ofbein' drowned. The wagon comes up, too, and the first thing he does isto grab that. By the time I gets there he was wadin' across with thecart, and the women had made up their minds there wa'n't any usefainting. 

"Babbitt, " says the Commodore's daughter, "explain your conductinstantly. What were you doing standing on your head in that tea-wagon?"

"Please, ma'am, I--I forget, " splutters Babbitt, wipin' the mud out ofhis eyes. 

"You forget!" says the lady. And say, anyone that knew the old Commodorewouldn't have to do any guessin' as to who her father was. "You forget, do you? Well, I want you to remember. Out with it, now!"

"Yes, ma'am, " says Babbitt, tryin' to prop up his wilted collar. "I'djust give him his first dose for the day, and I'd dodged the glass, whensomethin' catches me from behind, throws me into the tea-wagon, and offI goes. But that dose counts, don't it, ma'am? He got it down. "

I sees how it was then; Babbitt had been gettin' a commission for everyglass of the medicated stuff he pumped into the Commodore. 

"Will you please run after my father and tell him to come back, " saysthe lady to me. 

"Sorry, " says I, "but I'm no antelope. You'd better telegraph him. "

I didn't stay to see any more, I was that sore on the whole crowd. But Ihoped the old one would have sense enough to clear out for good. 

I didn't hear any more from my neighbors all day, but after supper thatnight, just about dusk, somebody sneaks in through the back way andwabbles up to the veranda where I was sittin'. It was the old Commodore. He was about all in, too. 

"Did--did I drown him?" says he. 

"You made an elegant try, " says I; "but there wasn't water enough. "

"Thank goodness!" says he. "Now I can die calmly. "

"What's the use dyin'?" says I. "Ain't there no thin' else left to dobut that?"

"I've got to, " says he. "I can't live on that cursed stuff they've beengiving me, and if I eat anything else I'm done for. The specialist saidso. "

"Oh, well, " says I, "maybe he's made a wrong guess. It's your turn now. Suppose you come in and let me have Mother Whaley broil you a nice juicyhunk of steak?"

Say, he was near starved. I could tell that by the way he looked when Imentioned broiled steak. He shook his head, though. "If I did, I'd diebefore morning, " says he. 

"I'll bet you a dollar you wouldn't, " says I. 

That almost gets a grin out of him. "Shorty, " says he, "I'm going torisk it. "

"It's better'n starving to death, " says I. 

And he sure did eat like a hungry man. When he'd put away a good squaremeal, includin' a dish of sliced raw onions and two cups of hot tea, Iplants him in an arm chair and shoves out the cigar box. He looks at theFumadoras regretful. 

"They've kept those locked away from me for two weeks, " says he, "andthat was worse than going without food. "

"Smoke up, then, " says I. "There's one due you. "

"As it will probably be my last, I guess I will, " says he. 

Honest, the old gent was so sure he'd croak before mornin' that hewanted to write some farewell letters, but he was too done up for that. I tucked him into a spare bed, opened all the windows, and before Icould turn out the light he was sawin' wood like a hired man. 

He was still workin' the fog horn when I went in to rout him out at fiveo'clock. It was a tough job gettin' him up, but I got him out of histrance at last. 

"Come on, " says I, "we've got to do our three miles and have a rub-downbefore breakfast. "

First off he swore he couldn't move, and I guess he was some stiff fromhis sprint the day before, but by the time he'd got out where the birdswas singin', and the trees and grass looked like they'd been done overnew durin' the night, I was able to coax him into a dog-trot. It was agentle little stunt we did, but it limbered the old boy up, and afterwe'd had a cold shower and a quick rub he forgot all about his joints. 

"Well, are you set on keepin' that date in the obituary column, or willwe have breakfast?" says I. 

"I could eat cold lobscouse, " says he. 

"Mother Whaley's got somethin' better'n that in the kitchen, " says I. 

"I suppose this will finish me, " says he, tacklin' the eggs and cornmuffins. 

Now, wouldn't that give you the pip? Why, with their specialists andmedicated dope, they'd got the old chap so leery of good straight grubthat he was bein' starved to death. And even after I'd got him braced upinto something like condition, he didn't think it was hardly right to goon eatin'. 

"I expect I ought to go back and start in on that slop diet again, " sayshe. 

I couldn't stand by and see him do that, though. He was too fine an oldsport to be polished off in any such style. "See here, Commodore, " saysI, "if you're dead stuck on makin' a livin' skeleton of yourself, why, Ithrows up me hands. But if you'll stay here for a couple of weeks and dojust as I say, I'll put you in trim to hit up the kind of life I reckonyou think is worth livin'. 

"By glory!" says he, "if you can do that I'll--"

"No you won't, " say I. "This is my blow. "

Course, it was a cinch. He wa'n't any invalid. There was stuff enough inhim to last for twenty years, if it was handled right. He begun to pickup right away. I only worked him hard enough to make the meals seem along ways apart and the mattress feel good. Inside of a week I had thered back in his cheeks, and he was chuckin' the medicine ball aroundgood and hard, and tellin' me what a scrapper he used to be when hefirst went to the cadet mill, down to Annapolis. You can always tellwhen these old boys feel kinky--they begin to remember things like that. Before the fortnight was up he wasn't shyin' at anything on the bill offare, and he was hintin' around that his thirst was comin' back strong. 

"Can't I ever have another drink?" says he, as sad as a kid leavin'home. 

"I'd take as little as I could get along with, " says I. 

"I'll promise to do that, " says he. 

He did, too. About the second day after he'd gone back to hisson-in-law's place, he sends for me to come over. I finds him walkin'around the grounds as spry as a two-year-old. 

"Well, " says I, "how did the folks take it?"

He chuckles. "They don't know what to say, " says he. "They can't see howa specialist who charges five hundred dollars for an hour's visit can bewrong; but they admit I'm as good as new. "

"How's Babbitt?" says I. 

"That's why I wanted you to come over, " says he. "Now watch. " Then helets out a roar you could have heard ten blocks away, and in about twoshakes old wash-day shows up. "Ha! You shark-nosed sculpin!" yells theCommodore. "Where's your confounded tea cart? Go get it, sir. "

"Yes, sir; directly, sir, " says Babbitt. 

He comes trottin' back with it in a hurry. 

"Got any of that blasted decayed milk in it?" says the Commodore. 

"No, sir, " says Babbitt. 

"Are you glad or sorry? Speak up, now, " says the Commodore. 

"I'm glad, sir, " says Babbitt, givin' the salute. 

"Good!" says the Commodore. "Then open up your wagon and mix me a Scotchhigh-ball. "

And Babbitt did it like a little man. 

"I find, " says the Commodore, winkin' at me over the top of his glass, "that I can get along with as few as six of these a day. To your verygood health, Professor McCabe. "

Stand it? Well, I shouldn't wonder. He's a tough one. And ten years fromnow, if there's another Dago fleet to be filled full of shot holes, Ishouldn't be surprised to find my old Commodore fit and ready to turnthe trick. 

CHAPTER XII

You'd most think after that I'd have cut out the country for a while;but say, I'm gettin' so I can stand a whole lot of real breathin' air. Anyway, I've put the Studio on summer schedule, and every Saturday aboutnoon I pikes out to Primrose Park, to see if me estate's growed anydurin' the week. 

Well, the last time I does it, I drops off about two stations too soon, thinkin' a little outdoor leg-work would do me good. 

It was a grand scheme, and I'd been all right if I'd followed thetrolley track along the post-road; but the gasolene carts was so thick, and I got to breathin' so much gravel, that I switches off. I takes anice-lookin' lane that appears like it might bring me out somewhere nearthe place I was headin' for; but as I ain't much on findin' my way wherethey don't have sign-boards at the corners, the first thing I knows I'vemade so many turns I don't know whether I'm goin' out or comin' back. 

It was while I was doin' the stray act, and wonderin' if it was goin' toshower, or was only just bluffin', that I bumps into this Incubatorbunch, and the performance begins. 

First squint I took I thought somebody'd been settin' out a new kind ofshrubbery, and then I sized it up for a lot of umbrella jars that hadbeen dumped there. But pretty soon I sees that it's nothin' but a doublerow of kids, all dressed the same. There must have been more'n a hundredof 'em, and they was standin' quiet by the side of the road, just asmuch to home as if that was where they belonged. Now, it ain't thereg'lar thing to find any such aggregation as that on a back lane, andif I'd had as much sense as a family horse in a carryall I'd shied andrambled the other way. But I has to get curious to see what it's allabout, so I blazes ahead, figurin' on takin' a good look as I goes by. 

At the head of the procession was a lady and gent holdin' some kind ofexercises, and as I comes up I notices something familiar about thelady's back hair. She turns around just then, gives a little squeal, andmakes for me with both hands out. Sure, it was her--Sadie Sullivan, thatwas. Well, I knew that Sadie was liable to be floatin' around anywherein Westchester County, for that seems to be her regular stampin' groundsince she got to travelin' with the country house set; but I wasn'tlookin' to run across her just then and in that company. 

"Oh, Shorty!" says she, "you're a life-saver! I've half a mind to hugyou right here. "

"If it wa'n't for givin' an exhibition, " says I, "I'd lend you theother half. But how does the life-savin' come in? And where'd youcollect so many kids all of a size? Is that pop, there?" and I jerks methumb at the gent. 

"Captain Kenwoodie, " says Sadie, "I want you to know my friend, Professor McCabe. Shorty, this is Captain Sir Hunter Kenwoodie, of theBritish war office. "

"Woodie, " says I, "how goes it?"

"Chawmed to meet you, I'm suah, " says he. 

"Oh, splash!" says I. "You don't mean it?"

Well, say! he was a star. His get-up was somethin' between that of amounted cop and the leader of a Hungarian band, and he was as stiff asif he'd been dipped in the glue-pot the day before. I'd heard somethin'about him from Pinckney. He'd drawn plans and specifications for a newforage cap for the British army, and on the strength of that he'd beensent over to the States to inspect belt buckles, or somethin' of thekind. Talk about your cinch jobs! those are the lads that can pull 'emout. On his off days--and he had five or six a week--Woodie'd beenornamentin' the top of tally-hos, and restin' up at such places asRockywold and Apawamis Arms. 

Seems like he'd discovered Sadie, too, and had booked himself for hersteady company. From her story it looked like they'd been takin' alittle drive around the country, when they ran up against this crowd ofkids in checked dresses from the Incubator home. There was a couple ofnurses herdin' the bunch, and they'd all been sent up the Sound on anexcursion barge, for one of these fresh-air blow-outs that always seemlike an invitation for trouble. Everything had gone lovely until thechowder barge had got mixed up with a tow of coal scows and got bumpedso hard that she sprung a leak. 

There hadn't been any great danger, but the excitement came along inchunks. The crew had run the barge ashore and landed the whole crowd, but in the mix-up one of the women had backed off the gangplank intothree feet of water, and the other had sprained an ankle. The pair of'em was all to the bad when Sadie and the Cap came along and found 'emtryin' to lead their flock to the nearest railroad station. 

Course, Sadie had piled right out, loaded the nurses into the carriage, tellin' the driver to find the next place where the cars stopped andcome back after the kids with all the buggies he could find, while sheand Woodie stood by to see that the Incubators didn't stampede and getscattered all over the lot. 

"So, here we are, " says Sadie, "with all these children, and a showercoming up. Now, what shall we do and where shall we go?"

"Say, " says I, "I may look like an information bureau, but I don't feelthe part. "

Sadie couldn't get it through her head, though, that I wasn't aJohnny-on-the-spot. Because I'd bought a place somewhere in the county, she thought I could draw a map of the state with my eyes shut. "We oughtto start right away, " says she. 

She was more or less of a prophet, too. That thunder-storm was gettin'busy over on Long Island and there was every chance of its comin' ourway. It lets loose a good hard crack, and the Englishman begins to lookworried. 

"Aw, I say now!" says he, "hadn't I better jog off and hurry up thatbloomin' coachman?"

"All right, run along, " says Sadie. 

You should have seen the start of that run. He got under way like a manon stilts, and he was about as limber as a pair of fire-tongs. But then, them leather cuffs on his legs, and the way his coat hugged the small ofhis back, wa'n't any help. I was enjoyin' his motions so much that Ihadn't paid any attention to the kids, and I guess Sadie hadn't either;but the first we knows they all falls in behind, two by two, hand inhand, and goes trottin' along behind him. 

"Stop 'em! Stop 'em!" says Sadie. 

"Whoa! Cheese it! Come back here!" I yells. 

They didn't give us any more notice, though, than as if we'd beenholdin' our breath. The head pair had their eyes glued on the Captain. They were the leaders, and the rest followed like they'd been tiedtogether with a rope. They was all girls and I guess they'd averageabout five years old. I thought at first they all had on aprons, but nowI sees that every last one of 'em was wearin' a life-preserver. They'dtied the things on after the bump, and I suppose the nurses had been toorattled to take 'em off since. Maybe it wa'n't a sight to see thembobbin' up and down!

Woodie, he looks around and sees what's comin' after him, and waves for'em to go back. Not much. They stops when he stops, but when he startsagain they're right after him. He unlimbers a little and tries to breakaway, but the kids jump into the double-quick and hang to him. 

I knew what was up then. They'd sized him up for a cop, and cops waswhat they was used to. You've seen those lines of Home kids bein' passedacross the street by the traffic squad? Well, havin' lost their nurses, and not seein' anything familiar-lookin' about Sadie or me, they'd madeup their minds that Woodie was it. They meant to stick to him untilsomething better showed up. Once I got this through my nut, I makes asprint to the head of the column and gets a grip on the Cap. 

"See here, Woodie!" says I, "you're elected. You'll have to stay by thekids until relieved. They've adopted you. "

"Aw, I say now, " says he, "this is too beastly absurd, y'know. It's abore. Why, if I don't find some place or other very soon I'll get awetting. "

"You can't go anywhere without those kids, " says I; "so come along backwith us. We need you in our business. "

He didn't like it a little bit, for he'd figured on shakin' the bunch ofus; but he had to go, and when he came right-about-face the processiondid a snake movement there in the road that would have done credit tothe Seventh Regiment. 

I'd been lookin' around for a place to make for. Off over the treestoward the Sound was a flag-pole that I reckoned stood on some kind of abuildin' and there was a road runnin' that way. 

"We'll mosey down towards that, " says I; "but we could make better time, Cap'n, if you'd get your party down to light-weight marchin' order. Suppose you give the command for them to shed them cork jackets. "

"Why, really, now, " says he, lookin' over the crowd kind of helpless, "Ihaven't the faintest idea how to do it, y'know. "

"Well, it's up to you, " says I. "Make a speech to 'em. "

Say, that was the dopiest bunch of kids I ever saw. They acted like theywa'n't more'n half alive, standin' there in pairs, as quiet as sheep, waitin' for the word. But that's the way they bring 'em up in theseHomes, like so many machines, and they didn't know how to act any otherway. Sadie saw it, and dropped down on her knees to gather in as many asshe could get her arms around. 

"Oh, you poor little wretches!" says she, beginnin' to sniffle. 

"Cut it out, Sadie!" says I. "There ain't any time for that. Unbucklethem belts. Turn to, Cap, and get on the job. You're in this. "

As soon as Woodie showed 'em what was wanted, though, they skinnedthemselves out of those canvas sinkers in no time at all. We left thetruck in the road, and with the English gent for drum-major, Sadie inthe middle, and me playin' snapper on the end, we starts for theflag-pole. I thought maybe it might be a hotel; but when we got wherethe road opened out of the woods to show us how near the Sound we was, Isees that it's a yacht club, with a lot of flags flyin' and a wholebunch of boats anchored off. About then we felt the first wet spots. 

"They've got to take us into that club-house, " says Sadie. 

We'd got as far as the gates, one of these fancy kind, with a hood topover the posts, like the roof of a summer-house, when the sprinkler wasturned on in earnest. Woodie was gettin' rain-drops on his new uniform, and he didn't like it. 

"I'll stay here, " says he, and bolts under cover. 

The Incubator kids swings like they was on a pivot, and piles in afterhim. There wasn't anything to do then but stop under the gate, seein' asthe club-house was a hundred yards or so off. I snaked Woodie out, though, and made him help me range the youngsters under the middle ofthe roof; and when we'd got 'em packed in four deep, with Sadie squeezedin too, there wa'n't an inch of room for either of us left. 

And was it rainin'? Wow! You'd thought four eights had been rung in andall the water-towers in New York was turned loose on us. And the thunderkept rippin' and roarin', and the chain-lightnin' streaked things uplike the finish of one of Colonel Pain's exhibits. 

"Sing to them!" shouts Sadie. "It's the only way to keep them from beingscared to death. Sing!"

"Do you hear that, Woodie?" says I across the top of their heads. "Singto 'em, you lobster!"

The Captain was standing just on the other side of the bunch. He'd gotthe front half of him under cover, but there wasn't room for the rest;so it didn't do him much good, for the roof eaves was leakin' down theback of his neck at the rate of a gallon a minute. 

"Only fu-fu-fawncy!" says he. "I don't fu-feel like singing, y'know. "

"Make a noise like you did then, " says I. "Come on, now!"

"But really, I cawn't, " says he. "I n-never sing, y'know. "

Say, that gave me the backache. "See here, Woodie, " says I, lookin' aswicked as I knew how, "you sing or there'll be trouble! Hit 'er up, now!"

That fetched him. He opened his face like he'd swallowed somethingbitter, made one or two false starts, and strikes up "God save theKing. " I didn't know the words to that, so I makes a stab at "EverybodyWorks but Father, " and Sadie tackles somethin' else. 

For a trio that was the limit. The kids hadn't seemed to mind thethunder and lightnin' a whole lot, but when that three-cornered symphonyof ours cut loose they begins to look wild. Some of 'em was diggin'their fists into their eyes and preparin' to leak brine, when all of asudden Woodie gets into his stride and lets go of three or four notesthat sounded as if they might belong together. 

That seemed to cheer those youngsters up a lot. One or two pipes up, kind of scared and trembly, but hangin' onto the tune, and the nextthing we knew they was all at it, givin' us "My Country 'Tis of Thee" inas fine shape as you'd want to hear. We quit then, and listened. Theyfollowed up with a couple of good old hymns and, if I hadn't been afloatfrom my shoes up, I might have enjoyed the program. It was a goodexhibition of nerve, too. Most kids of that size would have gone up inthe air and howled blue murder. But they didn't even show white aroundthe gills. 

Inside of ten minutes it was all over. The shower had moved off up intoConnecticut, where maybe it was wanted worse, and we got our headstogether to map out the next act. Sadie had the say. She was for takin'the kids over to the swell yacht club there, and waitin' until thenurses or some one else came to take 'em off our hands. That suited me;but when it came to gettin' Captain Sir Hunter to march up front and setthe pace, he made a strong kick. 

"Oh, by Jove, now!" says he, "I couldn't think of it. Why, I've been aguest here, y'know, and I might meet some of the fellows. "

"What luck!" says Sadie. "That'll be lovely if you do. "

"You come along, Woodie, " says I. "We've got our orders. "

He might have been a stiff-lookin' Englishman before, but he was limpenough now. He looked like a linen collar that had been through the washand hadn't reached the starch tub. His coat-tails was still drippin'water, and when he walked it sounded like some one was moppin' up amarble floor. 

"Only fancy what they'll think!" he kept sayin' to himself as we gotunder way. 

"They'll take you for an anti-race-suicide club, " says I; "so brace up. "

We hadn't more'n struck the club-house porch, and the steward had rushedout to drive us away, when Sadie gives another one of them squeals thatmeans she's sighted something good. 

"Oh, there's the Dixie Girl!" says she. 

"You must have 'em bad, " says I. "I don't see any girl. "

"The yacht!" says she, pointin' to the end of the dock. "That big whiteone. It's Mrs. Brinley Cubbs' Dixie Girl. You wait here until I see ifshe's aboard, " and off she goes. 

So we lined up in front to wait, the Incubators never takin' their eyesoff'n Woodie, and him as pink as a sportin' extra, and sayin' thingsunder his breath. Every time he took a hitch sideways the whole linedressed. All hands from the club turned out to see the show, and therockin'-chair skippers made funny cracks at us. 

"Ahoy the nursery!" says one guy. "Where you bound for?"

"Ask popper, " says I. "He's got the tickets. "

Woodie kept his face turned and his jaw shut, and if he had any friendsin the crowd I guess they didn't spot him. I'll bet he wa'n't sorry whenSadie shows up on deck and waves for us to come on. 

Mrs. Brinley Cubbs was there, all right. She was a tall, loppy kind offemale, ready to gush over anything. As well as I could size up thegame, she was one of the near-swells, with plenty of gilt but not enoughsense to use it right. Her feelin's were in good workin' order though, and she was willin' to listen to any program that Sadie had on hand. 

"Bring the little dears right aboard, " says she, "and we'll have themhome before dark. Why, Sir Hunter, is it really you?"

"I'm not altogether sure, " says Woodie, "whether it's I or not, " and hemade a dive to get below. 

Well, say, that was a yacht and a half, that Dixie Girl! The inside ofher was slicker'n any parlor car you ever saw. While they was gettin' upsteam, and all the way down to the East river, Mrs. Cubbs had the hiredhands luggin' up everything eatable they could find, from chicken saladto ice-cream, and we all took a hand passin' it out to that Incubatorbunch. 

They knew what grub was, yes, yes! There wasn't any holdin' back for animitation cop to give the signal. The way they did stow in good thingsthat they'd probably never dreamed about before was enough to make a manwish he had John D. 's pile and Jake Riis's heart. I forgot all aboutbein' wet, and so did Woodie. To see him jugglin' stacks of loadedplates you'd think he'd graduated from a ham-and factory. He seemed tolike it, too, and he was wearin' what passes for a grin among theEnglish aristocracy. By the time we got to the dock at East 34th-st. There was more solid comfort and stomach-ache in that cabin than it'llhold again in a thousand years. 

Sadie had me go ashore and telephone for two of them big rubber-neckwagons. That gave us time to get the sleepers woke up and arrange 'em onthe dock. Just as we was gettin' the last of the kids loaded in fortheir ride up to the Home, a roundsman shows up with two cops. 

"Where do you kids belong?" he sings out. 

With that there comes a howl, and the whole bunch yells:

 Hot pertater--cold termater--alligater--Rome! We're the girls from the Incubator Home!

"Caught with the goods!" says he, turnin' to the Cap'n and me. "You'rearrested for wholesale kidnappin'. There's a general alarm out foryouse. "

"Ah, back to the goats!" says I. "You don't think we look nutty enoughto steal a whole orphan asylum, do you, Rounds?"

"I wouldn't trust either of you alone with a brick block, " says he. "Andyour side partner with the Salvation Army coat on looks like a yegg manto me. "

"Now will you be nice, Cap?" says I. 

At this Sadie and Mrs. Cubbs tries to butt in, but that roundsman had ahead like a choppin' block. He said the two nurses had come to town andreported that they'd been held up in the woods and that all the kids hadbeen swiped. As Woodie fitted one of the descriptions, we had to go tothe station, that was all there was about it. 

And say, if the Sarge hadn't happened to have been one of my oldbackers, we'd have put in the night with the drunk and disorderlies. Course, when I tells me little tale, the Sarge give me the ha-ha andscratches our names off the book. We didn't lose any time either, inhittin' the Studio, where there was a hot bath and dry towels. 

But paste this in your Panama: Next time me and Woodie goes out torescue the fatherless, we takes along our raincoats. We've shook handson that. 

CHAPTER XIII

How's Woodie and Sadie comin' on? Ah, say! you don't want to take thethings she does too serious. It's got to be a real live one thatinterests Sadie. And, anyway, Woodie's willing to take oath that she putup a job on him. So it's all off. 

And I guess I ain't so popular with her as I might be. Anyway, Iwouldn't blame her, after the exhibition I made the other night, forclassin' me with the phonies. It was trouble I hunted up all by myself. 

Say, if I hadn't been havin' a dopey streak I'd a known something wasabout due. There hadn't a thing happened to me for more'n a week, whenPinckney blows into the Studio one mornin', just casual like, as if he'donly come in 'cause he found the door open. That should have put meleary, but it didn't. I gives him the hail, and tells him, he's lookin'like a pink just off the ice. 

"Shorty, " says he, "how are you on charity?"

"I'm a cinch, " says I. "Every panhandler north of Madison Square knowshe can work me for a beer check any time he can run me down. "

"Then you'll be glad to exercise your talents in aid of a worthy cause, "says he. 

"It don't follow, " says I. "The deservin' poor I passes up. There's toomuch done for 'em, as it is. It's the unworthy kind that wins my coin. They enjoys it more and has a harder time gettin' it. "

"Your logic is good, Shorty, " says he, "and I think I agree with yoursentiments. But this is a case where charity is only an excuse. Theladies out at Rockywold are getting up an affair for the benefit ofsomething or other, no one seems to know just what, and they've put youdown for a little bag punching and club swinging. "

"Then wire 'em to scratch the entry, " says I. "I don't make anyorchestra circle plays that I can dodge, and when it comes to fightin'the leather before a bunch of peacock millinery I renigs every time. I'll put on Swifty Joe as a sub. , if you've got to have some one. "

Pinckney shook his head at that. "No, " says he, "I'll tell Sadie shemust leave you off the program. "

"Hold on, " says I. "Was it Sadie billed me for this stunt?"

He said it was. 

"Then I'm on the job, " says I. "Oh, you can grin your ears off, I don'tcare. "

Well, that was what fetched me out to Rockywold on a Friday night, whenI had a right to be watchin' the amateur try-outs at the MaryboroughClub instead. The show wasn't until Saturday evenin', but Pinckney saidI ought to be there for the dress rehearsal. 

"There's only about a dozen guests there now, so you needn't getskittish, " says he. 

And a dozen don't go far towards fillin' up a place like Rockywold. Say, if I had the price, I'd like a shack where I could take care of more orless comp'ny without settin' up cot beds, but I'll be blistered if I cansee the fun in runnin' a free hotel like that. 

These amateur shows are apt to be pretty punk, but I could see that, barrin' myself, there was a fair aggregation of talent on hand. The starwas a googoo-eyed girl who did a barefoot specialty, recitin' pomes tomusic, and accompanyin' herself with a kind of parlor hoochee-coocheethat would have drawn capacity houses at Dreamland. Then there was apretty boy who could do things to the piano, a funeral-faced duck thatcould tell funny stories, and a bunch of six or eight likely-lookin'ladies and gents who'd laid themselves out to prance through what theycalled a minuet. Lastly there was me an' Miriam. 

She was one of these limp, shingle-chested girls, Miriam was. She didn'thave much to say, so I didn't take any particular notice of her. But atthe rehearsal I got next to the fact that she could tease music out ofa violin in great style. It was all right if you shut your eyes, forMiriam wasn't what you'd call a pastel. She was built a good deal on thelines of an L-road pillar, but that didn't bar her from wearin' one ofthese short-sleeved square-necked, girly-girly dresses that didn't leaveyou much in doubt as to her framework. 

Yes, Miriam could have stood a few well-placed pads. She'd lived longenough to have found that out, too, but they was missin'. I should guessthat Miriam had begun exhibitin' her collar-bones to society about thetime poor old John L. Fought the battle of New Orleans. Yet when shesnuggled the butt end of that violin down under her chin and squinted atyou across the bridge, she had all the motions of a high-school girl. 

'Course, I didn't dope all this out to myself at the time; for, as I wassayin', I didn't size her up special. But it all came to meafterwards--yes, yes!

The excitement broke loose along about the middle of that first night. I'd turned in about an hour before, and I was poundin' my ear like acircus hand on a Sunday lay-over, when I hears the trouble cry. Firstoff I wasn't goin' to do any more than turn over and get a fresh hold onthe mattress, for I ain't much on routin' out for fires unless I feelthe head-board gettin' hot. But then I wakes up enough to remember thatRockywold is a long ways outside the metropolitan fire district, and Ibegins to throw clothes onto myself. 

Inside of two minutes I was outdoors lookin' for a chance to win aCarnegie medal. There wasn't any show at all, though. The fire, whatthere was of it, was in the kitchen, in the basement of the wing wherethe help stays. Half a dozen stablemen had put it out with the gardenhose, and were finishin' the job by soakin' one of the cooks, when Ishowed up. 

I watched 'em for a while, and then started back to my room. Somehow Igot twisted up in the shrubbery, and instead of goin' back the way Icame, I gets around on the other corner. Just about then a ground-floorwindow is shoved up, and a female in white floats out on a little stonebalcony. She waves her arms and begins to call for help. 

"You're late, " says I. "It's all over. "

That didn't satisfy her at all, though. Some smoke and steam was stillcomin' from the far side of the buildin', and it was blowin' in throughanother window. 

"Help, help!" she squeals. "Help, before I jump!"

"I wouldn't, " says I, "they've gone home with the life net. "

"The smoke, the smoke!" says she. "Oh, I must jump!"

"Well, if you've got the jumpin' fit, " says I, "jump ahead; but if youcan hold yourself in a minute, I'll bring a step-ladder. "

"Then hurry, please hurry!" says she, and starts to climb up on the edgeof the balcony. 

It wa'n't more'n six feet to the turf anyway, and it wouldn't have beenany killing matter if she had jumped, less'n she'd landed on her neck;but she was as looney as if she'd been standin' on top of the FlatironBuildin'. Bein' as how I'd forgot to bring a step-ladder with me, Ichases around after something she could come down on. The moon wasn'tshinin' very bright though, and there didn't seem to be any boxes orbarrels lyin' around loose, so I wasn't makin' much headway. But afterawhile I gets hold of something that was the very ticket. It was one ofthese wooden stands for flower-pots. I lugs that over and sets it upunder the window. 

"Now if you'll just slide down onto that easy, " says I, "your life issaved. "

She looks at it once, and begins to flop her arms and take on again. "Inever can do it, I know I can't!" says she. "I'll fall, I'll fall!"

Well, it was a case of Shorty McCabe to the rescue, after all. "Comingup!" says I, and hops on the thing, holdin' out me paws. 

She didn't need any more coaxin'. She scrabbled over that balcony railand got a shoulder clutch on me that you couldn't have loosened with acrowbar. I gathered in the rest of her with my left hand and steadiedmyself with the other. Lucky she wasn't a heavy-weight, or thatpot-holder wouldn't have stood the strain. It creaked some as we wentdown, but it held together. 

"Street floor, all out!" says I, as I hit the grass. 

But that didn't even get a wiggle out of her. 

"It's all over, " says I. "You're rescued. "

Talk about your cling-stones! She was it. Never a move. I couldn't tellwhether she'd fainted, or was too scared to let go. But it was up to meto do something. I couldn't stand there for the rest of the nightholdin' a strange lady draped the way she was, and it didn't seem to bejust the right thing to sit down to it. Besides, one of her elbows wastryin' to puncture my right lung. 

"If you're over the fire panic, I'll try and hoist you back through thewindow, miss, " says I. 

She wasn't ready to do any conversin' then, though. She was just holdin'onto me like I was too good a thing to let slip. 

"Well, it looks to me as though we'd got to make a front entrance, " saysI; "but I hope the audience'll be slim, " and with that I starts tofinish the lap around the house and make for the double doors. 

[Illustration: One of her elbows was tryin' to puncture my right lung. ]

I've carried weight before, but never that kind, and it seemed like thatblamed house was as big around as a city block. Once or twice we buttedinto the bushes, and another time I near tumbled the two of us into thepool of a fountain; but after awhile I struck the front porch, some outof breath, and with a few wisps of black hair in my eyes, but still inthe game. The lady hadn't made a murmur, and she hadn't slacked herclinch. 

I was hopin' to slide in quiet, without bein' spotted by anyone, formost of the women had gone back to bed, and I could hear the men down inthe billiard room clickin' glasses over an extra dream-soother. Luck wasagainst me, though. Right under the newel-post light stood Pinckney, wearin' a silk pajama coat outside of a pair of black broadclothtrousers. When he sees me and what I was luggin' he looks kind ofpleased. 

"Hello, Shorty!" says he. "What have you there?"

"It might be a porous-plaster, by the way it sticks, " says I, "but itain't. It's a lady I've been rescuin' while the rest of you guys wasstandin' around watchin' a wet cook. "

"By Jove!" says Pinckney, steppin' up and takin' a close look. "Miriam!"

"Thanks, " says I. "We ain't been introduced yet. Do you mind unhookin'her fingers from the back of my neck?"

But all he did was to stand there with his mouth corners workin', andthem black eyes of his winkin' like a pair of arc lights. 

"It's too pretty a picture to spoil, " says he. "So touching! Reminds meof Andromeda and What's-his-name. Just keep that pose a minute, willyou, until I bring up the rest of the fellows?"

"You'll bring up nothin', " says I, reachin' out with one hand andgettin' a grip on the collar of his silk jacket. "Now get busy, or offcomes your kimono. "

With that he quits kiddin' and goes to work on Miriam's fingers, and inabout a minute she gives a little jump, like she'd just heard thebreakfast bell. 

"Why!" says she. "Where am I?"

"Right where you landed five minutes ago, " says I. 

Then she shudders all over and squeals: "Oh! A man! A man!"

"Sure, " says I, "you didn't take me for a Morris chair, did you?"

Miriam didn't linger for any more. She lets loose a holler that nearsplits me ear open, slides down so fast that her bare tootsies hit thefloor with a spat, grabs her what-d'ye-call-it up away from her ankleswith both hands, and sprints down the hall as if she was makin' for thelast car. 

"Say, " says I, gettin' me neck out of crook, "I wish that thought hadcome to her sooner. I feel as if I'd been squeezed by a pair ofice-tongs. If she can hug like that in her sleep, what could she do whenshe was wide awake?"

"Shorty, " says Pinckney, with his face as solemn as a preacher's, "I'mpained and astonished at this. "

"Me, too, " says I. 

"Don't jest, " says he. "This looks to me like an attempt at kidnapping. "

"If you'd had that grip on you, I guess you'd have thought it was thereal thing, " says I. "But here's a little tip I want to pass on to you:Don't go spreadin' this josh business around the lot, or your show'll beminus a star act. I'll stand for all the private kiddin' you can handout, but I've got my objections to playin' a public joke-book part. Now, will you quit?"

He was mighty disappointed at havin' to do it, but he gave his word, andI makes tracks up stairs, glad enough to be let off so easy. 

"It was a queer kind of a faint, if that's what it was, " says I tomyself. "I'll bet I fights shy of anything more of the kind that I seescomin' my way. This is what I gets for strayin' so far from Broadway. "

But a little thing like that don't interfere with my sleepin', whenslumber's on the card, and I proceeds to tear off what was due me on theeight-hour sched. , and maybe a little more. 

I didn't get a sight of Miriam all day long. Not that I was strainin' myeyes any. There was somethin' better to look at--Sadie, for instance. 'Course Pinckney was bossin' the show, but she was bossin' him, andanyone else that was handy. They were goin' to pull off the racket inthe ball-room, and Sadie found a lot to do to it. She's a hummer, Sadieis. Maybe she wa'n't brought up among bow-legged English butlers and alot of Swedish maids, but she's learned the trick of gettin' 'em tobreak their necks for her whenever she says the word. 

All the forenoon more folks kept comin' on every train, and there wastwo rows of them big, deep-breathin' tourin' cars in the stables. Bydinnertime Rockywold looked like a Saratoga hotel durin' the racin'season. Chappies were playin' lawn tennis, and luggin' golf bags around, and keepin' the ivories rollin', while the front walks and porches mighthave been Fifth-ave. On a Monday afternoon, from the dry-goods that wasbein' sported there. 

I stowed myself away in a corner of the billiard-room and didn't mixmuch, but I was takin' it all in. Not that I was feelin' lonesome, oranything like that. I likes to see any sort of fun, even if it ain'tjust my kind. And besides, there was more or less in the bunch that Iknew first-rate. But I don't care about pushin' to the front until Igets the call. 

So everything runs along smooth, and I was figurin' on makin' a latetrain down to Primrose Park after I'd done my little turn. I didn't caremuch about seein' the show, so I stuck to the dressin'-room until theysends word that it was my next. We'd had the punchin'-bag apparatusrigged up in the forenoon, and there wasn't anything left to be done buthook on the leather and spread out the mat. 

Pinckney was doin' the announcin' and the jolly he gives me before helugs me out was somethin' fierce. I reckon I was blushin' some when Iwent on. I took just one squint at the mob and felt a chill down myspine. Say, it's one thing to step up before a gang of sports in a hall, and another to prance out in ring clothes on a platform in front of twoor three hundred real ladies and gents wearin' their evenin' togs. 

There I was, though, and the crowd doin' the hurrah act for all it wasworth. When I gets the bag goin' I feels better, and whatever grouch Ihas against Pinckney for not lettin' me wear my gym. Suit I puts intoshort-arm punches on the pigskin. The stunt seemed to take. I could tellthat by the buzz that came over the footlights. No matter what you'redoin', whether it's makin' campaign speeches, or stoppin' a comer in sixrounds, it's always a help to know that you've got the crowd with you. 

By the time I'd got well warmed up, and was throwin' in all theflourishes that's been invented--double ducks, side-step and swing, shoulder work, and so on--I felt real chipper. I makes a grandstandfinish, and then has the nerve to face the audience and do a matinéebend. As I did that I gets my lamps fixed on some one in the front row. 

Say, if you've ever done much on the platform, you know how sometimesyou'll get a squint at a pair of eyes down front and can't get yourselfaway from 'em after that. Well, that was the way with me then. There wasrows and rows of faces that all looked alike, but this one phiz seemedto stand right out; and to save me, all I could do was to stare back. 

It belonged to Miriam. She had her chin tucked down, and her head cantedto one side, and her mouth puckered into the mushiest kind of a grin youever saw. Her eyes were rolled up real kittenish, too. Oh, it was acombination to make a man strike his grandmother, that look she wassendin' up to me. I wanted to dodge it and pick up another, but therewas no more gettin' away from it than as if I was bein' followed by asearch-light. Worst of it was, I could feel myself grinnin' back at herjust as mushy. I was gettin' sillier every breath, and I might have gotas far as blowin' kisses at her if I hadn't pulled myself together andbegun to juggle the Indian clubs, for the second half of my act. 

All the ginger had faded out of me, though, and I cut the rest of itmighty short. As I comes off, Sadie grabs me and begins to tell me whata hit I'd made, and how tickled she was, but I shakes her off. 

"What's your great rush, Shorty?" says she. 

"I've got a date to fill down the road, " says I, and I makes a quickbreak for the dressin'-room. Honest, I was gettin' rattled for fear ifMiriam should get another look at me she'd mesmerize me so I'd neverwake up. I skins into my sack-suit, leaves word to have my bag expressedto town, and was just about to make a sudden exit when I bumps into someone at the front door. 

"Oh, Mr. McCabe! How did you know where to find me?" says she. 

Say, I'll give you one guess. Sure, it was Miriam again. She was got upexpensive, all real lace and first-water sparks, and just as handsome asa towel rack. But the minute she turns on that gushy look I'm nailed tothe spot, same as the rabbits they feed to the boa-constrictors up atthe Zoo. 

"You didn't think you could lose me so easy, did you?" says I. 

"What a persistent fellow you are!" says she. "But, after you behaved soheroically last night, I suppose I must forgive you. Wasn't it silly ofme to be so frightened?"

"Oh, well, " says I, "the best of us is apt to go off our nut sometimes. "

"How sweet of you to put it that way!" says she, and then she uncorks agiggle. "You did carry me so nicely, too. "

That was a sample. I wouldn't go on and give you the whole book of theopera for money. It's somethin' I'm tryin' to forget. But we swappedthat kind of slush for near half an hour, and when the show broke up andthe crowd began to swarm towards the buffet lunch, we was sittin' out onthe porch in the moonlight, still at it. Pinckney says we was holdin'hands and gazin' at each other like a couple of spoons in the park. Maybe we was; I wouldn't swear different. 

All I know is that after a while I looks up and sees Sadie standin'there pipin' us off, with her nose in the air and the heat lightnin'kind of glimmerin' in them blue eyes of hers. The spell was brokequicker'n when the curtain goes down and the ushers open the lobbydoors. 'Course, Sadie's nothin' more'n an old friend of mine, and I'm nomore to her, but you see it hadn't been so long ago that I'd beentellin' her what a sweat I was in to get away. She never said a word, only just sticks her chin up and laughs, and then goes on. 

Next minute there shows up in front of us a fat old lady, with threechins and a waist like a clothes hamper. 

"Miriam!" says she, and there was wire nails and broken glass in the wayshe said it, "Miriam, I think it was high time you retired. "

"Bully for you, old girl!" I sings out. "And say, I'll give you a dollarif you'll lock her in until I can get away. "

Perhaps that was a low-down thing to say, but I couldn't help lettin' itcome. I didn't wait for any more remarks from either of 'em, but I grabsmy hat and makes a dash across lots. I never stopped runnin' until Ifetched the station, and it wasn't until after the train pulled out thatI breathed real easy. 

Bein' safe here in the Studio, with Swifty on guard, I might grin at thewhole thing, if it wasn't for that laugh of Sadie's. That cut in deep. Two or three days later I hears from Pinckney. 

"Shorty, " says he, "you're a wonder. I fancy you don't know what youdid in getting so chummy with Miriam under the very nose of that oldwatch-dog aunt of hers. Why, I know of fellows who've waited years forthat chance. "

"Back up!" says I. "She's a freak. "

"But Miriam's worth three or four millions, " says he. 

"I don't care if she owns a bond factory, " says I. "I'm no boneconnoisseur, nor I don't make a specialty of collectin' autumn leaves. Do you know what I'd do if I was her aunt?"

"What?" says he. 

"Well, " says I, "I'd hang a red lantern on her. "

CHAPTER XIV

You never can tell, though. The next thing I hears from Sadie is thatshe's so tickled over that Miriam mix-up that she wakes up in the nightto snicker at it. 

That makes me feel a lot easier in my mind, and just by way of bein'reckless, I starts out to buy a bull pup. I'd have got him, too, if ithadn't been for Doc Pinphoodle. Seein' the way things turned out, though, I don't bear no grudge. 

It was the Doc I met first. I'd noticed him driftin' up and down thestairs once or twice, but didn't pipe him off special. There's too manyfreaks around 42nd-st. 'to keep cases on all of 'em. 

But one day about a month ago I was sittin' in the front office here, gettin' the ear-ache from hearing Swifty Joe tell about what he meant todo to Gans that last time, when the door swings open so hard it mosttakes the hinges off, and we sees a streak of arms and legs and tall hatmakin' a dive under the bed couch in the corner. 

"They've most got the range, Swifty, " says I. "Two feet to the left andyou'd been a bull's-eye. What you got your mouth open so wide for? Goin'to try to catch the next one in your teeth?"

Swifty didn't have time to uncork any repartee before someone struckthe landing outside like they'd come down a flight of foldin' steps feetfirst, and a little, sharp-nosed woman, with purple flowers in her hat, bobs in and squints once at each of us. Say, I don't want to be lookedat often like that! It felt like bein' sampled with a cheese tester. 

"Did Montgomery Smith just come in here?" says she. "Did he? Don't lie, now! Where is he?" and the way she jerked them little black eyes aroundwas enough to tear holes in the matting. 

"Lady--" says I. 

"Don't lady me, Mr. Fresh, " says she, throwin' the gimlets my way. "Andtell that broken-nosed child stealer over there to take that monkey grinoff'm his face or I'll scratch his eyes out. "

"Hully chee!" yells Swifty, throwin' a back somersault through the gym. Door and snappin' the lock on his side. 

"Anything more, miss?" says I. "We're here to please. "

"Humph!" says she. "It'd take somethin' better than you to please me. "

"Glad I was born lucky, " thinks I, but I thought it under my breath. 

"Is my Monty hiding in that room?" says she, jabbin' a finger at thegym. 

"Cross my heart, he ain't, " says I. 

"I don't believe you could think quick enough to lie, " says she, andwith that she flips out about as fast as she came in. 

I didn't stir until I hears her hit the lower hall. Then I bolts thedoor, goes and calls Swifty down off the top of the swingin' rope, andwe comes to a parade rest alongside the couch. 

"Monty, dear Monty, " says I, "the cyclone's passed out to sea. Come outand give up your rain check. "

He backs out feet first, climbs up on the couch, and drops his chin intohis hands for a minute, while he gets over the worst of the shock. Say, at first sight he wa'n't a man you'd think any woman would lose herbreath tryin' to catch, less'n she was his landlady, and that was what Ifigures out that this female peace disturber was. 

Monty might have been a winner once, but it was a long spell back. Justthen he was some out of repair. He had a head big enough for a collegeprofessor, and a crop of hair like an herb doctor, but his eyes werepuffy underneath, and you could see by the _café au lait_ tint to hisface that his liver'd been on a long strike. He was fairly thick throughthe middle, but his legs didn't match the rest of him. They were toothin and too short. 

"If I'd known you was comin', I'd had the scrub lady dust under there, "says I; "but it won't need it now for a couple of weeks. "

He makes a stab at sayin' something, but his breath hadn't come backyet. He revives enough though, to take a look at his clothes. Then heworks his silk dicer up off'm his ears, and has a peek at that. It was apunky lid, all right, but it had saved a lot of wear on his koko when hemade that slide for home plate and struck the wall. 

"Was this a long-distance run, or just a hundred-yard sprint?" says I. "Never mind, if it comes hard. I don't blame you a bit for side-steppin'a heart to heart talk with any such a rough-and-ready converser as yourfriend. I'd do the same myself. "

He looks up kind of grateful at that, and sticks out a soft, lady-likepaw for me to shake. Say, that wasn't such a slow play, either! He wastoo groggy to say a word, but he comes pretty near winnin' me rightthere. I sets Swifty to work on him with the whisk-broom, hands out aglass of ice-water, and in a minute or so his voice comes back. 

Oh, yes, he had one. It was a little shaky, but, barrin' that, it was assmooth as mayonnaise. And language! Why, just tellin' me how muchobliged he was, he near stood the dictionary on its head. There wa'n'tno doubt of his warm feelin' for me by the time he was through. It wasalmost like bein' adopted by a rich uncle. 

"Oh, that's all right, " says I. "You can use that couch any time thedisappearin' fit comes on. She was hot on the trail; eh, Monty?"

"It was all a painful, absurd error, " says he, "a mistaken identity, Ipresume. Permit me to make myself known to you, " and he shoves out hiscard. 

Rasmulli Pinphoodle, J. R. D. --that was the way it read. 

"Long ways from Smith, ain't it?" says I. "The first of it sounds like aPersian rug. "

"My Hindu birth name, " says he. 

"I'd have bet you wa'n't a domestic filler, " says I. "The Pinphoodle isEnglish, ain't it?"

He smiles like I'd asked him to split a pint with me, and says that itwas. 

"But the tag on the end--J. R. D. --I passes up, " says I. "Don't standfor Judge of Rent Dodgers, does it?"

"Those letters, " says he, makin' another merry face, "represent thesymbols of my Vedic progression. "

"If I'd stopped to think once more, I'd fetched that, " says I. 

It was a jolly. I've never had the Vedic progression--anyways, not hadenough to know it at the time--but I wasn't goin' to let him stun methat way. 

Later on I got next to the fact that he was some kind of a healer, andthat the proper thing to do was to call him Doc. Seems he had afour-by-nine office on the top floor back, over the Studio, and that hewas just startin' to introduce the Vedic stunt to New York. Mostly heworked the mailorder racket. He showed me his ad in the Sunday personalcolumn, and it was all to the velvet. Accordin' to his ownspecifications he was a head-liner in the East Indian philosophybusiness, whatever that was. He'd just torn himself away from thecrowned heads of Europe for an American tour, and he stood ready toladle out advice to statesmen, tinker up broken hearts, forecast thefuture, and map out the road to Wellville for millionaires who'd goneoff their feed. 

He sure had a full bag of tricks to draw from; but I've noticed that themore glass balls you try to keep in the air at once, the surer you areto queer the act. And Pinphoodle didn't look like a gent that kept thereceivin' teller workin' overtime. 

There was something about him, though, that was kind of dignified. Hewas the style of chap that would blow his last dime on havin' his collar'n' cuffs polished, and would go without eatin' rather than frisk thefree lunch at a beer joint. He was willin' to talk about anything butthe female with the gimlet eyes and the keen-cutter tongue. 

"She is a mistaken, misguided person, " says he. "And by the way, Professor McCabe, there is a fire-escape, I believe, which leads from myoffice down to your back windows. Would it be presuming too much if Ishould ask you to admit me there occasionally, in the event of mybeing--er--pursued again?"

"It ain't a board bill, is it, Doc?" says I. 

"Nothing of the kind, I assure you, " says he. 

"Glad to hear it, " says I. "As a rule, I don't run no rock-of-agesrefuge, but I likes to be neighborly, so help yourself. "

We fixed it up that way, and about every so often I'd see Doc Pinphoodleslidin' in the back window, with a worried look on his face, and ironrust on his trousers. He was a quiet neighbor, though--didn't torturethe cornet, or deal in voice culture, or get me to cash checks that cameback with remarks in red ink written on 'em. 

I was wonderin' how the Vedic stunt was catchin' on, when all of asudden he buds out in an eight-dollar hat, this year's model, and beginsto lug around an iv'ry-handled cane. 

"I'm glad they're comin' your way, Doc, " says I. 

"Thanks, " says he. "If I can in any measure repay some of the manykindnesses which you have--"

"Sponge it off, " says I. "Maybe I'll want to throw a lady off the scentmyself, some day. "

A week or so later I misses him altogether, and the janitor tells mehe's paid up and moved. Well, they come and go like that, so it don't doto feel lonesome; but I had the floor swept under the couch reg'lar, ona chance that he might show up again. 

It was along about then that I hears about the bull pup. I'd beenwantin' to have one out to Primrose Park--where I goes to prop up theweekend, you know. Pinckney was tellin' me of a friend of his that ownsa likely-lookin' litter about two months old, so one Saturday afternoonI starts to hoof it over and size 'em up. 

Now that was reg'lar, wa'n't it? You wouldn't think a two-eyed man likeme could go astray just tryin' to pick out a bull pup, would you? Butlook what I runs into! I'd gone about four miles from home, and washittin' up a Daddy Weston clip on the side path, when I sees one of thembig bay-windowed bubbles slidin' past like a train of cars. There was agirl on the back seat that looks kind of natural. She sees me, too, shouts to François to put on the emergency brake, and begins wavin' herparasol at me to hurry on. It was Sadie Sullivan. 

"Hurry up, Shorty! Run!" she yells. "There isn't a minute to lose. "

I gets up on my toes at that, and I hadn't no more'n climbed aboardbefore the machine was tearin' up the macadam again. 

"Anybody dyin', " says I, "or does the bargain counter close at fiveo'clock?"

"Aunt Tillie's eloping, " says she, "and if we don't head her off she'llmarry an old villain who ought to be in jail. "

"Not Mr. Pinckney's Aunt Tillie, the old girl that owns the big place upnear Blenmont?" says I. 

"That's the one, " says Sadie. 

"Why she's qualified for an old ladies' home, " says I. "You don't meanto say she's got kittenish at her age. "

"There's no age limit to that kind of foolishness, " says Sadie, "andthis looks like a serious attack. We've got to stop it, though, for Ipromised Pinckney I'd stand guard until he came back from Newport. "

I hadn't seen the old girl myself, but I knew her record, and now I gotit revised to date. She'd hooked two husbands in her time, but neitherof 'em had lasted long. Then she gave it up for a spell and it wa'n'tuntil she was sixty-five that she begins to wear rainbow clothes again, and caper around like one of the squab octet. Lately she'd begun toshow signs of wantin' to sit in a shady corner with a man. 

Pinckney had discouraged a bald-headed minister, warned off an oldbachelor, and dropped strong hints to a couple of widowers that took tocallin' frequent for afternoon tea. Then a new one had showed up. 

"He's a sticker, too, " says Sadie. "I don't know where Aunt Tillie foundhim, but Pinckney says he's been coming out from the city every otherday for a couple of weeks. She's been meeting him at the station andtaking him for drives. She says he's some sort of an East Indian priest, and that he's giving her lessons in a new faith cure that she's takingup. To-day, though, after she'd gone off, the housekeeper found that hertrunk had been smuggled to the station. Then a note was picked up in herroom. It said something about meeting her at the church of St. Paul's-in-the-Wood, at four-thirty, and was signed, 'Your darlingMulli. ' Oh, dear, it's almost half-past now! Can't you go any faster, François?"

I thought he couldn't, but he did. He jammed the speed lever up anothernotch, and in a minute more we were hittin' only the high places. Wecaromed against them red-leather cushions like a couple of pebbles in abottle, and it was a case of holdin' on and hoping the thing would stayright side up. I hadn't worked up much enthusiasm about gettin' to St. Paul's-in-the-Wood before, but I did then, all right. Never was so gladto see a church loom up as I was that one. 

"That's her carriage at the chapel door, " says Sadie. "Shorty, we muststop this thing. "

"It's out of my line, " says I, "but I'll help all I can. "

We made a break for the front door and butted right in, just as thoughthey'd sent us cards. It wasn't very light inside, but down at the farend we could see a little bunch of folks standin' around as if they waswaitin' for somethin' to happen. 

Sadie didn't make any false motions. She sailed down the center aisleand took Aunt Tillie by the arm. She was a dumpy, pie-faced old girl, with plenty of ballast to keep her shoes down, and a lot of genuinestore hair that was puffed and waved like the specimens you see in theSixth-ave. Show cases. She was actin' kind of nervous, and grinnin' asilly kind of grin, but when she spots Sadie she quit that and puts on alook like the hired girl wears when she's been caught bein' kissed bythe grocery boy. 

"You haven't done it, have you?" says Sadie. 

"No, " says Aunt Tillie; "but it's going to be done just as soon as therector gets on his other coat. "

"Now please don't, Mrs. Winfield, " says Sadie, gettin' a waist grip onthe old girl, and rubbin' her cheek up against her shoulder in thatpurry, coaxin' way she has. "You know how badly we should all feel if itdidn't turn out well, and Pinckney--"

"He's a meddlesome, impertinent young scamp!" says Aunt Tillie, growin'red under the layers of rice powder. "Haven't I a right to marry withoutconsulting him, I'd like to know?"

"Oh, yes, of course, " says Sadie, soothing her down, "but Pinckneysays--"

"Don't tell me anything that he says, not a word!" she shouts. "I won'tlisten to it. He had the impudence to suggest that my dear Mulli wasa--a corn doctor, or something like that. "

"Did he?" says Sadie. "I wouldn't have thought it of Pinckney. Well, just to show him that he was wrong, I would put this affair off untilyou can have a regular church wedding; with invitations, and ushers, and pretty flower girls. And you ought to have a gray-silkwedding-gown--you'd look perfectly stunning in gray silk, you know. Wouldn't all that be much nicer than running off like this, as thoughyou were ashamed of something?"

Say, it was a slick game of talk that Sadie handed out then, for she wasplayin' for time. But Aunt Tillie was no come-on. 

"Mulli doesn't want to wait another day, " says she, "and neither do I, so that settles it. And here comes the rector, now. "

"Looks like we'd played out our hand, don't it?" I whispered to Sadie. 

"Wait!" says she. "I want to get a good look at the man. "

He was trailin' along after the minister, and it wa'n't until he waswithin six feet of me that I saw who it was. 

"Hello, Doc!" says I. "So you're the dear Mulli, are you?"

He near jumped through his collar, Pinphoodle did, when he gets hislamps on me. It only lasted a minute, though, for he was a quickrecoverer. 

"Why, professor!" says he. "This is an unexpected pleasure. "

"I guess some of that's right, " says I. 

And say, but he was dressed for the joyful bridegroom part--stripedtrousers, frock coat, white puff tie, and white gloves! He'd had a closeshave and a shampoo, and the massage artist had rubbed out some of theswellin' from under his eyes. Didn't look much like the has-been thatdone the dive under the couch at the Studio. 

"Well, well!" says I. "This is where the private cinch comes in, eh?Doc, you've got a head like a horse. "

"I should think he'd be ashamed of himself, " says Sadie, "running offwith a silly old woman who might be his mother. "

The Sullivan temper had got the best of her. After that the deep lardwas all over the cook stove. Aunt Tillie throws four cat-fits to theminute, and lets loose on Sadie with all kinds of polite jabs that shecan lay her tongue to. Then Doc steps up, puts a manly arm half-wayround her belt line, and lets her weep on the silk facing of his Sundaycoat. 

By this time the preacher was all broke up. He was a nicehealthy-lookin' young chap, one of the strawb'ry-blond kind, with pinkand white cheeks, and hair as soft as a toy spaniel's. It turns out thathe was new to the job, and this was his first call to spiel off thesplicin' service. 

"I trust, " says he, "that there is nothing--er--that no one has anyvalid objection to the uniting of this couple?"

"I will convince you of that, " says Doc Pinphoodle, speakin' up briskand cocky, "by putting to this young lady a few pertinent questions. "

Well, he did. As a cross-examiner for the defense he was a regular JoeChoate. Inside of two minutes he'd made torn mosquito netting of Sadie'skick, shown her up for a rank outsider, and put us both through theropes. 

"Now, " says he, with a kind of calm, satisfiedI've-swallowed-the-canary smile, "we will proceed with the ceremony. "

Sadie was near cryin with the mad in her, she bein' a hard loser at anygame. "You're an old fraud, that's what you are!" she spits out. "Andyou're just marrying Pinckney's silly old aunt to get her money. "

But that rolls off Doc like a damage suit off'm a corporation. He justsmiles back at her, and goes to chirkin' up Aunt Tillie. Doc was it, andknew where he stood. He had us down and out. In five minutes more he'dhave a two-hundred-pound wife and a fifty-thousand-dollar income. 

"It strikes me, " says he, over his shoulder, "that if I had got hold ofa fortune in the way you got yours, young woman, I wouldn't make anycomments about mercenary marriages. "

Well, say, up to that time I had a half-baked idea that maybe I wasn'tcalled on to block his little game, but when he begins to rub it intoSadie I sours on Doc right away. And it always does take one or two goodpunches to warm me up to a scrap. I begins to do some swift thinkin'. 

"Hold on there, Doc, " says I. "I'll give in that you've got our casequashed as it stood. But maybe there's someone else that's got aninterest in these doin's. "

"Ah!" says he. "And who might that be?"

"Mrs. Montgomery Smith, " says I. 

It was a chance shot, but it rung the bell. Doc goes as limp as a strawhat that's been hooked up after a dip in the bay, and his eyes took onthat shifty look they had the first time I ever saw him. 

"Why, " says he, swallowin' hard, and doing his best to get back thestiff front he'd been puttin' up--"why, there's no such person. "

"No?" says I. "How about the one that calls you Monty and runs you underthe couch?"

"It's a lie!" says he. "She's nothing to me, nothing at all. "

"Oh, well, " says I, "that's between you and her. She says different. Anyway, she's come clear up here to put in her bid; so it's no more'nfair to give her a show. I'll just bring her in. "

As I starts towards the front door Doc gives me one look, to see if Imean business. Then, Sadie says, he turns the color of pie-crust, dropsAunt Tillie as if she was a live wire, and jumps through the back doorlike he'd been kicked by a mule. I got back just in time to see himhurdle a five-foot hedge without stirrin' a leaf, and the last glimpsewe got of him he was headin' for a stretch of woods up Connecticut way. 

"Looks like you'd just missed assistin' at a case of bigamy, " says I tothe young preacher, as we was bringin' Aunt Tillie out of her faint. 

"Shocking!" says he. "Shocking!" as he fans himself with a hymn book. Hewas takin' it hard. 

Aunt Tillie wouldn't speak to any of us, and as we bundled her into hercarriage and sent her home she looked as mad as a settin' hen with herfeet tied. 

"Shorty, " says Sadie, on the way back, "that was an elegant bluff youput up. "

"Lucky my hand wa'n't called, " says I. "But it was rough on the preacherchap, wa'n't it? He had his mouth all made up to marry some one. Blamedif I didn't want to offer him a job myself. "

"And who would you have picked out, Shorty?" says she. 

"Well, " says I, lookin' her over wishful, "there ain't never been butone girl that I'd choose for a side partner, and she's out of my classnow. "

"Was her name Sullivan once?" says she. 

"It was, " says I. 

She didn't say anything more for a spell after that, and I didn't; butthere's times when conversation don't fit in. All I know is that you cansit just as close on the back seat of one of them big benzine carts asyou can on a parlor sofa; and with Sadie snuggled up against me I feltlike it was always goin' to be summer, with Sousa's band playin'somewhere behind the rubber trees. 

First thing I knows we fetches up at my shack in Primrose Park, and Iwas standin' on the horse block, alongside the bubble. Sadie'd droppedboth hands on my shoulders and was turnin' them eyes of hers on me atclose range. François was lookin' straight ahead, and there wasn'tanyone in sight. So I just took a good look into that pair of Irishblues. 

"What a chump you are, Shorty!" she whispers. 

"Ah, quit your kiddin', " says I. But I didn't make any move, and shedidn't. 

"Well, good-by, " says she, lettin' out a long breath. 

"By-by, Sadie, " says I, and off she goes. 

Say, I don't know how it was, but I've been feelin' ever since that I'dmissed somethin' that was comin' to me. Maybe it was that bull pup Iforgot to buy. 

CHAPTER XV

Flag it, now, and I'll say it for you. Yes, you read about it in thepapers, and says you: "Is it all so?" Well, some of it was, and some ofit wasn't. But what do you expect? No two of the crowd would tell it thesame way, if they was put on the stand the next minute. Here's the wayit looked from where I stood, though; and I was some close, wa'n't I?

You see, after I woke up from that last trance, I gets to thinkin' aboutSadie, and Miriam, and all them false alarms I've been ringin' in; and, says I to myself: "Shorty, if I couldn't make a better showin' thanthat, I'd quit the game. " So I quits. I chases myself back to town forgood, says hello to all the boys, and tells Swifty Joe, if he sees memakin' another move towards the country, to heave a sand bag at me. 

Not that there was any loud call for me to tend out so strict on thephysical culture game. I'd been kind of easin' up on that lately, anddippin' into outside things; and it was them I needed to keep closertrack of. You know I've got a couple of flat houses up on the West side, and if you let them agents run things their own way you'll be makin'almost enough to buy new hall carpets once a year. 

Then there was ripe chances I was afraid of missin'. You see, knockin'around so much with the fat wads, I often sees spots where a few dollarscould be planted right. Sometimes it's a hunch on the market, and thenagain it's a straight steer on a slice of foot front that's goin' cheap. I do a lot of dickerin' that way. 

Well, I'd just pushed through a deal that leaves me considerable onvelvet, and I was feelin' kind of flush and sassy, when Mr. Ogden callsme up, and wants to know if I can make use of a gilt edged bargain. 

"Oh, I don't know, " says I. "What's it look like?"

"It's The Toreador, " says he. 

"Sounds good, " says I. "How much?"

"Cost me forty thousand two years ago, " says he, "but I'm turning itover for twenty-five to the first bidder. "

Well, say, when old man Ogden slings cold figures at you like that, youcan gamble that he's talkin' straight. 

"I'm it, then, " says I. "Fifteen down, ten on mortgage. "

"That suits me, " says he. "I'll have the papers made out to-day. "

"And say, " says I, "what is this Toreador, anyway; a race horse, or anelevator apartment?"

Would you guess it? He'd hung up the receiver. That's what I got forbein' sporty. But I wa'n't goin' to renig at that stage. I fills out melittle blue check and sends her in, and that night I goes to bed withoutknowin' what it is that I've passed up my coin for. 

It must have been near noon the next day, for I'd written a letter andgot my check book stubs added up so they come within two or threehundred of what the bank folks made it, when a footman in white pantiesand a plum colored coat drifts through the Studio door. 

"Is this Professor McCabe, sir?" says he. 

"Yep, " says I. 

"There's a lady below, sir, " says he. "Can she come up?"

"It ain't reg'lar, " says I, "but I s'pose there's no dodgin' her. Tellher to come ahead. "

Say, I wa'n't just fixed up for receivin' carriage comp'ny. When Iwrites and figures I gets more mussed up than as if I'd been in afree-for-all. I'd shed my coat on one chair, my vest on another, slippedoff my suspenders, rumpled my hair, and got ink on me in seventeenplaces. But I didn't have sense enough to say I was out. 

In a minute or so there was a click-click on the stairs, I gets a whiffof l'Issoir Danube, and in comes a veiled lady. She was a brandiedpeach; from the outside lines, anyway. Them clothes of hers couldn'thave left Paris more'n a month before, and they clung to her like a wetundershirt to a fat man. And if you had any doubts as to whether or noshe had the goods, all you had to do was to squint at the big amethystin the handle of the gold lorgnette she wore around her neck. For aFelix-Tiffany combination, she was it. You've seen women of thatkind--reg'lar walkin' expense accounts. 

"So you are Shorty McCabe, are you?" says she, givin' me a customsinspector look-over, and kind of sniffin'. 

"Sorry I don't suit, " says I. 

"How odd!" says she. "I must make a note of that. "

"Help yourself, " says I. "Is there anything else?"

"Is it true, " says she, "that you have bought The Toreador?"

"Who's been givin' you that?" says I, prickin' up my ears. 

"Mr. Ogden, " says she. 

"He's an authority, " says I, "and what he says along that line I don'tdispute. "

"Then you _have_ bought it?" says she. "How exasperating! I was goingto get Mr. Ogden to let me have The Toreador this week. "

"The whole of it?" says I. 

"Why, of course, " says she. 

"Gee!" thinks I. "It can't be an apartment house, then. Maybe it's anoil paintin', or a parlor car. "

"But there!" she goes on. "I suppose you only bought it as aspeculation. Now what is your price for next week?"

Say, for the love of Pete, I couldn't tell what it was gave me a grouch. Maybe it was only the off-hand way she threw it out, or the snippychin-toss that goes with it. But I felt like I'd been stroked with apiece of sand paper. 

"It's too bad, " says I, "but you've made a wrong guess. I'm usin' TheToreador next week myself. "

"_You!_" says she, and through the gauze curtain I could see her humpher eyebrows. 

That finished the job. Even if The Toreador turned out to be a new operahouse or a tourin' balloon, I was goin' to keep it busy for the nextseven days. 

"Why not me?" I says. 

"All alone?" says she. 

Well, I didn't know where it would land me, but I wa'n't goin' to haveher tag me for a solitaire spender. 

"Not much, " says I. "I was just makin' up my list. How do you spell Mrs. Twombley-Crane's last name--with a k?"

"Really!" says she. "Do you mean to say that _she_ is to be one of yourguests? Then you must be going just where I'd planned to go--to theNewport evolutions?"

"Sure thing, " says I. I'd heard of their havin' all kinds of fool doin'sat Newport, but evolutions wa'n't one of 'em. The bluff had to be madegood, though. 

The lady pushes up her mosquito nettin' drop, like she wanted to see ifI was unwindin' the string ball or not, and then for a minute she tapsher chin with them foldin' eyeglasses. I wanted to sing out to her thatshe'd dent the enamel if she didn't quit bein' so careless, but I heldin. Say, what's the use eatin' carrots and takin' buttermilk baths, whenyou can have a mercerized complexion like that laid on at the shop?

All of a sudden she flashes up a little silver case, and pushes out avisitin' card. 

"There's my name and address, " says she. "If you should change your mindabout using The Toreador, you may telephone me; and I hope you will. "

"Oh!" says I, spellin' out the old English letters. "I've heard Pinckneyspeak of you. Well, say, seein' as you're so anxious, I'll tell youwhat I'll do; I'll just put you down for an in-vite. How does that hityou?"

I had an idea she might blow up, at that. But say, there was nothin' ofthe kind. 

"Why, " says she, "I'm not sure but that would be quite a novelty. Yes, you may count on me. Good day, " and she was gone without so much as a"thank you kindly. "

When I came to, and had sized the thing all up, it looked like I'd gotin over my head. I was due to stand for some kind of a racket, butwhether it was a picnic, or a surprise party, I didn't know. What Iwanted just then was information, and for certain kinds of knowledgethere's nobody like Pinckney. 

I was dead lucky to locate him, too; but I took a chance on his bein' intown, so I found him at his special corner table in the palm room, justlookin' a dry Martini in the face. 

"Hello, Shorty!" says he. "Haven't lunched yet, have you? Join me. "

"I will, " says I, "if you'll answer me two questions. First off, what isit that Mr. Ogden owns that he calls The Toreador?"

"Why, " says Pinckney, "that's his steam yacht. "

"Steam yacht!" says I, gettin' a good grip on the chair, to keep fromfalling out. "And me dead sure it was a bunch of six-room-and-baths!Oh, well, let that pass. What's done is done. Now what's this evolutionstunt they're pullin' off up at Newport next week?"

"The naval evolutions, of course, " says Pinckney. "You should read thenewspapers, Shorty. "

"I do, " says I, "but I didn't see a word about it on the sportin' page. "

He gave me the program, though; how they was goin' to have a shamtorpedo battle, windin' up with a grand illumination of the fleet. 

"You ought to run up and see it, " says he. 

"It looks like I had to, " says I. 

"But what about The Toreador?" says he. 

"Nothin' much, " says I, --"only I've bought the blamed thing. "

It was Pinckney's turn to grow bug-eyed; but when I'd told him all aboutthe deal, and how the veiled lady had stung me into sayin' what I had, he's as pleased as if he'd been readin' the joke column. 

"Shorty, " says he, "you're a genius. Why, that's the very thing to do. Get together your party, steam up there, anchor in the harbor, and seethe show. It's deuced good form, you know. "

"That's all I want, " says I. "Just so long's I'm sure I'm in good form, I'm happy. But say, I wouldn't dare tackle it unless you went along. "

I found out later that Pinckney'd turned down no less than three partiesof that kind, but when I puts it up to him, he never fiddles short atall. 

"Why, I'd be delighted, " says he. 

With that we finishes our cold fried egg salad, or whatever fancy dishit was we had on the platter, and then we pikes off to the pier where hesays the yacht's tied up. And say, she was somethin' of a boat. She madethat Dixie Girl, that Woodie and me brought the Incubator kids down in, look like a canoe. She was white all over, except for a gold streakaround her, and a couple of dinky yellow masts. 

I didn't go down stairs. We plants ourselves in some green cushionedeasy chairs under the back stoop awnin', and I sends one of thewhite-wing hired hands after the conductor. 

"It's the sailing master you want, " says Pinckney. 

"Well, bring him along, too, " says I. 

But there was only the one. He was a solid built, quiet spoken chap, with a full set of red whiskers and a state of Maine accent. He said hisname was Bassett, and that he was just packin' his things to go ashore, havin' heard that the boat had been sold. 

"The shore'll be there next month, " says I. "What'll you take to stay onthe job?"

Well, he didn't want no iron worker's wages, bein' content with acaptain's salary, so I tells him to take hold right where he left offand tell the rest of the gang they could do the same. So inside of halfan hour I has a couple of dozen men on the pay roll. 

"Gee!" says I to Pinckney, "I'm glad the yachtin' season's most overwhen I begin; if it wa'n't I'm thinkin' I'd have to go out nights with ajimmy. "

But Pinckney's busy with his silver pencil, writin' down names. 

"There!" says he. "I've thought of a dozen nice people that I'm sure of, and perhaps I'll remember a few more in the mean time. "

"Say, " says I, "have you got the Twombley-Cranes and Sadie on thatlist?"

"Oh, certainly, " says he, "especially Sadie. " And then he grins. 

Well, for about four days I'm the busiest man out of a job in New York. I carries a bunch of railroad stocks on margin, trades off some Bronxbuildin' lots for a cold water tenement, and unloads a street openin'contract that I bought off'm a Tammany Hall man. Every time I thinks ofthat steam yacht, with all them hands burnin' up my money, I goes outand does some more hustlin'. Say, there's nothin' like needin' thedough, for keepin' a feller up on his toes, is there? And when the timecame to knock off, and I'd reckoned up how much I was to the good, Ifeels like Johnny Gates after he's cashed his chips. 

Yes, indeed, I was a gay boy as I goes aboard The Toreador and waits forthe crowd to come along. I'd made myself a present of a white flannelsuit and a Willie Collier yachtin' cap, and if there'd been an orchestradown front I could have done a yo-ho-ho baritone solo right off thereel. 

Pinckney shows up in good season, and he'd fetched his people, allright. There was a string of tourin' cars and carriages half a blocklong. They was all friends of mine, too; from Sadie to the little oldbishop. And they was nice, decent folks. Maybe they don't have theirpictures printed in the Sunday editions as often as some, but they'reice cutters, just the same. They all said it was lovely of me toremember 'em. 

"Ah, put it away!" says I. "You folks has been blowin' me, off'n on fora year, and this is my first set-up. I ain't wise to the way thingsought to be done on one of these boudoir boats, but I wants everyone tobe happy. Don't wait for the Who-wants-the-waiter call, but just actlike you was all star boarders. Everything in sight is yours, from, thewicker chairs on deck, to what's in the ice box below. And I want to sayright here that I'm mighty glad you've come. Now, Mr. Bassett, I guessyou can tie her loose. "

Honest, that was the first speech I ever shot off, in or out of thering, but it seemed to go. They was all pattin' me on the back, andgivin' me the grand jolly, when a cab comes down the pier on the jump, someone waves a red parasol, and out floats the veiled lady, with amaid. I'd sent her an invite, just as I said I would, but I neverthought she'd have the front to take it up. 

"We came near missin' you, " says I, steppin' up to the gang plank. 

But say, she was so busy shakin' hands and callin' the rest of 'em bytheir front names, that she didn't see me at all. It was that way allday long, while we was goin' up the Sound. She cornered almost everyoneelse, and chinned to 'em real earnest about somethin' or other, but Inever seemed to get in range. Well, I was havin' too good a time to feelcut up about it, but I couldn't help bein' curious. 

It wa'n't until dinner time that I got a line on her. Say, she was aconverser. No matter what was opened up, she heard her cue. And knock!Why, she had a tack hammer in each hand. They was cute, spiteful littletaps, that made you snicker first, and then you got ashamed of yourselffor doin' it. 

"Ain't she got any friends besides what's here?" says I to Sadie, afterwe'd got through and gone up front by ourselves to see the moon rise. 

"I'm not so sure about even these, " says Sadie. 

"Then why didn't someone cut in with a come-back?" says I. 

"It isn't exactly safe, " says she. 

"Oh!" says I. "She's that kind, is she? You'd think from her talk thatshe knew only two sorts of women: them that had been divorced, and themthat ought to be. "

"I'm afraid that's her specialty, " says Sadie. 

"Sort of a lady muck-raker, eh?" says I. "Well I hope all she says ain'tso. How about it?"

Well, that was the beginnin' of a heart to heart talk that lasted for agood many miles. Somehow Sadie and I'd never had a real quiet chancelike that before, and it came out that we had a lot to say to eachother. I don't know how it was, but the rest of 'em seemed to let usalone. Some was back under the awnin' and others was down stairs, playin' whist. There was singin' too, but we couldn't make out just whowas doin' it, and didn't care a whole lot. 

Anyway, it was the bulliest ride I ever had. The moon come up over LongIsland, as big as a bill board and as yellow as a chorus girl's hair;the air was kind of soft and warm, like you gets it in the front roomof a Turkish bath place; and there wa'n't anything on either sidenearer'n the shore lights, way off in the dark. It wa'n't any time forthinkin' hard of anyone, so we agrees that the lady muck-raker must havebeen born with a bad taste in her mouth and can't help it, lettin' herslide at that. 

I forgot what it was we did talk about. It was each other mostly, Iguess. You can do that when you've known anyone as long as we had; andit's a comfort, once in a while. 

After a bit, though, we didn't say much of any thing. I was just lookin'at Sadie. And say, I've seen her when I thought she looked mighty nice, but I'd never got just that view of her before, with the moon kind oftouchin' up her red hair, and her cheeks and neck lookin' like whitesatin. 

She has a way, too, of starin' off at nothin' at all, sometimes, andthen there's a look in her eyes, and a little twist to her mouthcorners, that just sets me tinglin' all over with the wantin' to put mearm around her and tell her that no matter who else goes back on her, there'll always be Shorty McCabe to fall back on. It wa'n't anything newor sudden for me. I'd felt like that many a time, and as far back aswhen her mother ran a prune dispensary next door to my house, and shean' I used to sit on the front steps after supper. She'd have spells ofstarin' that way then, 'choppin' off a laugh in the middle to do it, andmaybe finishin' up with a giggle. I guess that's only the Irish in her, but it always caught me. 

She must have been lookin' that way then, for the first thing I knowsI'd reached out and pulled her up close. She never kicks, but justsnuggles her head down on my shoulder, with them blue eyes turned so Icould look way down into 'em. At that I draws a deep breath. 

"Sadie, " says I, husky like, "you're the best ever!"

She only smiles, kind of sober, but kind of contented, too. 

"And if I had the nerve, " says I, "I'd ask you to be Mrs. ShortyMcCabe. "

"It's too bad you've lost your nerve so sudden, " says she. 

"Wha-a-at!" says I. "Will you, Sadie; will you?"

"Silly!" says she. "Of course I will. "

"Bless the saints!" says I. "When?"

"Any time, Shorty, " says she. "You've been long enough about it, goodness knows. "

Well say! You talk about your whirlwind finishes! I guess the crowd thatwas bunched there in the cabin, sayin' good night, must have thoughtI'd gone clear off my pivot, the way I comes down the stairs. 

"Where's the bishop?" says I. 

"Right here, my boy, " says he. "What's the matter?"

"Matter?" says I. "Why, it's the greatest thing ever happened, andnobody to it. Folks, " I says, "if the bishop is willin', and hasn'tforgot his lines, there's goin' to be a weddin' take place right here inthe main tent inside of fifteen minutes. Whoop-e-e!" I yells. "Sadie'ssaid she would!"

That's the way we did it, too; and for a short notice affair, it wasdone in style; even to a weddin' march that someone feeds into thepianola and sets goin'. Pinckney digs up a ring, and the bishop gives usthe nicest little off-hand talk you ever listens to. I blushes, andSadie blushes, and Mrs. Twombley-Crane hugs both of us when it's over. Then I has the steward lug up a lot of cold bottles and I breaks a tenyear drouth with a whole glass of fizz water. 

Right in the middle of the toast the sailin' master shows up on thestairs and says: "We're just makin' the harbor, sir. "

"Forget it, Bassett, " says I. "I want you to drink to the health of Mrs. McCabe. "

And when he hears what's been goin' on, he's the most flabbergastedsailor man I ever saw. After that we all has to go up and take a lookat Newport and the warships, but they was all as black and quiet as aside street in Brooklyn after ten o'clock. 

"Say, it's a shame all them folks ain't in on this, " says I. "Bassett, can't you make a little noise, just to let 'em know we're celebratin'?"

Bassett thought he could. He hadn't made any mistake, either. In twoshakes we had all the lights aboard turned on, and skyrockets whizzin'up as fast as they could be touched off. 

Did we wake up them warships? Well, rather. First we hears a lot ofdinner gongs goin' off. Then colored lanterns was sent up, whistlesblew, bugles bugled, and inside of three minutes by the watch there wasguns bang-bangin' away like it was the Fourth of July. 

"Great Scott!" says Pinckney, "I never knew before that the UnitedStates navy would turn out in the middle of the night to salute aprivate yacht. "

"It depends on who owns the yacht. Eh, Sadie?" says I. 

By the time the guns got through bangin' we had a dozen search-lightsturned on us, and a strong lunged gent on the nearest warship wasyellin' things at us through a megaphone. 

"He wants to know, sir, " says Bassett, "if we've got the Secretary ofthe Navy on board. "

"Tell him not guilty, " says I, and Bassett did. 

That didn't satisfy Mr. Officer though. "Then why in thunder, " says he, "do you make such a fuss coming into the harbor at this time of night?"

"Because I've just been gettin' married, " says I, in my Bosco voice. 

"And who the blazes are you?" says he. 

"Can't you guess?" says I. "I'm Shorty McCabe. "

"Oh!" says he, and you could hear the ha-ha's come across the water fromall along the line. There was a wait for a minute, and then he hailsagain. "Ahoy, Shorty McCabe!" says he. "The Commodore presents hiscompliments and says he hopes you liked your wedding salute; and if youdon't mind, the gun crews want to give three cheers for Mrs. McCabe. "

So Sadie and I stands up by the rail, with more lime light on us than weever had before or since, and about six hundred Jackies gives us theircollege cry. There wa'n't anything slow about that as a send off for aweddin' tour, was there? But then, as I says to Sadie: "Look who weare. "

And say, if you'll be on the dock when we come back from Bar Harbor, we'll take you along down to Old Point with us. Eh? Think it over. 

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