KID SCANLAN

BY

H. C. WITWER

AUTHOR OF

THE LEATHER PUSHERS, FIGHTING BLOOD, ETC. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP

PUBLISHERS

NEW YORK

Copyright, 1920, BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY

(INCORPORATED)

DEDICATED TO

ALLAN HENRY WITWER

 MY SIX-YEAR-OLD DESCENDANT WHO WEEPS BITTERLY WHEN I READ MY YARNS ALOUD TO HIS PATIENT MOTHER

H. C. W. 

CONTENTS

CHAPTER

 I. LAY OFF MACDUFF II. EAST LYNCH III. PLEASURE ISLAND IV. LEND ME YOUR EARS V. "EXIT, LAUGHING" VI. THE UNHAPPY MEDIUM VII. LIFE IS REEL! VIII. HOSPITAL STUFF

KID SCANLAN

CHAPTER I

LAY OFF, MACDUFF!

Brains is great things to have, and many's the time I've wished I had aset of 'em in _my_ head instead of just plain bone! Still they's a lotof guys which has gone through life like a yegg goes through a safe, and taken everything out of it that wasn't nailed, with nothin' intheir head but hair!

A college professor gets five thousand a year, a good lightweight willgrab that much a fight. A school teacher drags down fifteen a week, and the guy that looks after the boilers in the school buildin' getsthirty!

Sweet cookie!

So don't get discouraged if the pride of the family gets throwed out ofschool because he thinks twice two is eighteen and geography is playedwith nets. The chances is very bright that young Stupid will beholdin' the steerin' wheel of his own Easy Eight when the other guys, which won all the trick medals for ground and lofty learnin', will bewonderin' why a good bookkeeper never gets more than twenty-five aweek. And then, if he feels he's _got_ to have brains around him, nowthat he's grabbed the other half of the team--money--he can go downtownand buy all the brains he wants for eighteen dollars a week!

So if you're as shy on brains as a bald-headed man is of dandruff, andwhat's more, you _know_ it, cheer up! Because you can bet the gas-billmoney that you got somethin' just as good. Some trick concealed aboutyou that'll keep you out of the bread line. The thing to do is to takean inventory of yourself and find it!

Look good--it's there somewheres!

Kid Scanlan's was hangin' from his left shoulder, and it made himenough dimes in five years to step out of the crowd and watch theothers scramble from the sidelines. It was just an ordinary arm, size36, model A, lot 768, same as we all have--but inside of it the Kid hada wallop that would make a six-inch shell look like a lover's caress!

Inside of his head the Kid had nothin'!

Scanlan went through the welterweight division about like the Marineswent through Belleau Wood, and, finally, the only thing that stoodbetween him and the title was a guy called One-Punch Ross--thechampion. They agreed to fight until nature stopped the quarrel, atGoldfield, Nev. They's two things I'll never forget as long as I paythe premiums on my insurance policy, and they are the first and secondrounds of that fight. That's as far as the thing went, just two shortframes, but more real scrappin' was had in them few minutes than Europewill see if Ireland busts loose! Except that they was more principals, the battle of the Marne would have looked like a chorus men's frolicalongside of the Ross-Scanlan mêlée. They went at each other likepeeved wildcats and the bell at the end of the first round only seemedto annoy 'em--they had to be jimmied apart. Ross opened the secondround by knockin' Scanlan through the ropes into the ten-dollar boxes, but the Kid was back and in there tryin' again before the referee couldfind the body to start a count. After beatin' the champ from pillar topost and hittin' him with everything but the bucket, the Kid rocks himto sleep with a left swing to the jaw, just before the gong. 

The crowd went crazy. I went in the hole for five thousand bucks andthe Kid went in the movies!

I had been handlin' Ross before that battle, but after it I wouldn'thave buried him! This guy was a ex-champion then, and I don't want noex-nothin' around _me_--unless it's a bill. 

Right after that scrap, Scanlan sent for me and made me a propositionto look after his affairs for the followin' three years, and the onlytime I lost in acceptin' it was caused by the ink runnin' out of myfountain pen when I was signin' the contract. In them days I had a repfor bein' able to get the money for my athletes that would make Shylocklook like a free spender. Every time one of _my_ boys performed forthe edification of the mob, we got a elegant deposit before we put apen to the articles and we got the balance of the dough before wepulled on a glove. I never left nothin' to chance or the other guy. That's what beat Napoleon and all them birds! Of course, they wasseveral people here and there throughout the country which was morepopular than I was on that account, but which would _you_ rather, have, three cheers or three bucks?

Well, that's the way _I_ figured!

About a month after Scanlan become my only visible means of support, Isigned him up for ten rounds with a bird which said, "What d'ye want, hey?" when you called him Hurricane Harris, and the next day a guycomes in to see me in the little trick office I had staked myself to onBroadway. When he rapped on the door I got up on a chair and took aflash at him over the transom and seein' he looked like ready money, Ilet him come in. He claims his name is Edward R. Potts and that so farhe's president of the Maudlin Moving Picture Company. 

"I am here, " he says, "to offer you a chance to make twenty thousanddollars. Do you want it?"

"Who _give_ you the horse?" I asks him, playin' safe. "I got to knowwhere this tip come from!"

"Horse?" he mutters, lookin' surprised. "I know nothing of horses!"

"Well, " I tells him, "I ain't exactly a liveryman myself, but before Iput any of Kid Scanlan's hard-earned money on one of them equines, Igot to know more about the race than you've spilled so far! What didthe trainer say?"

He was a fat, middle-aged hick that would soon be old, and he wearshalf a pair of glasses over one eye. He aims the thing at me andsmiles. 

"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about!" he says. "But I fancy it's a pun of some sort! Very well, then, what _did_ thetrainer say?"

I walked over and laid my arm on his shoulder. 

"Are you endeavorin' to spoof me?" I asks him sternly. "Or have yougot me confused with Abe Levy, the vaudeville agent? Either way you'relosin' time! I don't care for your stuff myself, and if that's youract, I wouldn't give you a week-end at a movie house!"

He takes off the trick eye-glass and begins to clean it with ahandkerchief. 

"My dear fellow!" he says. "It is plain that you do not understand thenature of my proposal. I wish to engage the services of Kid Scanlan, the present incumbent of the welterweight title. We want to make afive-reel feature, based on his rise to the championship. I amprepared to offer you first class transportation to our mammoth studiosat Film City, Cal. ; and twenty thousand dollars when the picture iscompleted! What do you say?"

"Have a cigar!" I says, when I get my breath. I throwed a handful of'em in his lap and give the water cooler a play. 

"No, thanks!" he says, layin' 'em on the desk. "I never smoke. "

"Well, " I tells him, "I ain't got a thing to drink in the place, yougotta be careful here, y'know! But to get back to the movie thing, what does the Kid have to do for the twenty thousand fish?"

He takes a long piece of paper from his pocket and lays it down infront of me. It looked like a chattel mortgage on Mexico, and whatparagraphs didn't commence with "to wit, " started off with "do hereby. "

"All that Mr. Scanlan has to do, " he explains, "will be told him by ourdirector at the studios, who will produce the picture. His name is Mr. Salvatore Genaro. Kindly sign where the cross is marked!"

"Wait!" I says. "We can't take a railroad ride like that for twentythousand, we got to have twenty-five and--"

"All right!" he butts in. "Sign only on the first line!"

"Thirty thousand, I meant to say!" I tells him, "because--"

"Certainly, " he cuts me off, handin' over his fountain pen. "Don't useinitials, sign your full name!"

I signed it. 

"How do I know we get this money?" I asks him. 

"Aha!" he answers. "How do we know that the dawn will come? Mycompany is worth a million dollars, old chap, and that contract youhave is as good as the money! Be at my office at two this afternoonand I will give you the tickets. _Adios_ until then!"

And he blows out of the office. 

I closed down the desk, went outside and climbed into my Foolish Four. In an hour I was up to the trainin' camp near Rye where Kid Scanlan waspreparin' for his collision with Hurricane Harris. Scanlan is trainin'for the quarrel by playin' seven up with the room clerk from the BeachHotel, and when I bust in the door he takes a look, throws the cards onthe floor and makes a pass at his little pal so's I'll think he's a newsparrin' partner. I pulled him off and dragged him to one side. 

"How would you like to go in the movies?" I says. 

"Nothin' doin'!" the Kid tells me. "They make my eyes sore!"

"I don't mean watch 'em!" I explains. "I mean act in 'em! We're goin'out to the well known Coast this afternoon and you're gonna be a moviehero for five reels and thirty thousand bucks!"

"We don't fight Harris?" asks the Kid. 

"No!" I says. "What d'ye mean _fight_! Leave that stuff for theroughnecks, we're actors now!"

We got out to Film City at the end of the week and while there wasn'tno brass band to meet us at the station, there was a sad-lookin' guywith one of them buckboard things and what at one time was probably ahorse. I never seen such a gloomy lookin' layout in my life; theyreminded me of a rainy Sunday in Philadelphia. The driver comes up tous and, after takin' a long and searchin' look, says, "Which one of you fellers is the pugeylist?"

"Pugilist?" I says. "What d'ye mean pugilist? We're the new leadin'men for the stock company here. Pugilist! Ha! Ha! How John Drewwill laugh when I tell him that!"

He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and reads it. 

"I'm lookin' for Kid Scanlan and Johnny Green, " he announces. "One of'em's supposed to be the welterweight champion, but I doubt it! Inever seen him fight!"

"Well, " I says, "you got a good chance to try for the title, bo, if youain't more respectful! I'm Mr. Green and that's Kid Scanlan, thechamp!"

He looks at the Kid and kinda sneers. 

"All right!" he says. "Git aboard and I'll take you out to Mr. Genaro. I'll tell you now, though, that if you ain't what you claim, you got towalk back!" He takes a side glance at the Kid. "Champ, eh?" hemutters. 

We climb in the buckboard and this guy turns to me and points the whipat the Kid. 

"He don't look like no pugeylist to me, " he goes on, like he's lookin'for a argument, "let alone a champion! Still looks is deceivin' atthat. Take a crab, for instance--you'd never think from lookin' at itthat you could eat it, would you? No! Git up!"

Git _up_ was right, because the animal this guy had suspended betweenthe shafts had laid right down on the ground outside the station, whilst he was talkin' to us. The noble beast got gamely to its feet atthe word from Gloomy Gus, give a little shiver that rattled the harnessand then turned around to see what its master had drawed from the trainthat mornin'. It took a good eyeful and kinda curled up its lip andsneered at us, showin' its yellow teeth in a sarcastical grin. 

"Hold fast!" remarks Gloomy Gus. "It's rough country here and thishorse is about to do a piece of runnin'!" He takes off his belt andwhales that equine over what would a been the back on a regular horse. "Step along!" he asks it. 

Well, if they had that ride at Coney Island, they'd have made a fortunewith it in one summer, because as soon as Old Dobbin realized he'd beenhit, he started for South Africa and tried to make it in six jumps! Hefolded his long skinny ears back of his neck somewheres and just simplygive himself over to runnin'. We went up hills and down vales thatwould have broke an automobile's heart, we took corners on one leg andcreeks in a jump and when I seen the Pacific Ocean loomin' up in theoffing I begin to pray that the thing couldn't swim! Gloomy Gus leansover and yells in my ear, "Some horse, eh?"

"Is that what it is?" I hollers back. 

"Well, he's tryin' all right. He's what you could call a runnin'fool!" We shot past somethin' that was just a black blur for a minuteand then disappeared back in the dust. "What was that?" I yells. 

"Montana!" screams Gloomy Gus, "and--"

"Ha! Ha!" roars the Kid, openin' his mouth for the first time. "That's goin' a few! Let me know when we pass Oregon, I got a friendthere!"

"Montana Bill!" explains Gloomy Gus, frownin' at the Kid. "That's theonly place you can get licker within five miles of Film City!" Helooks at the Kid again and mutters half to himself, "Champion, eh!"

Then he yanks in the reins and we slow down to about a runaway's paceright near what looks to be a World's Fair with a big wall around itand an iron gate in the middle. We shot up to the entrance and thehorse calls it a day and stops, puffin' and blowin' like a fatpiano-mover. 

"Film City!" hollers Gloomy Gus. "Git out here and walk in. Mr. Genaro's office is right back of the African Desert!"

I thanked him for bringin' us in alive. He didn't say nothin' to me, but as he was passin' in the gates I seen him lookin' after the Kid andshakin' his head. "Champion, hey!" he mumbles. 

This Film City place would have made delerium tremens lay down andquit. There was Indians, cowboys, cannibals, chorus girls, Japs, sheriffs, train robbers, and--well, it looked like the place where theyassemble dime novels. A guy goes racin' past us on a horse with a lotof maniacs, yellin' and shootin', tearin' after him and on the otherside a gang of laborers in tin hats and short skirts is havin' a battleroyal with swords. Three feet from where we're standin' a house isburnin' down and two guys is sluggin' each other on the roof. We walkalong a little further and run into a private conversation. Some guyin a new dress suit is makin' love to a dame, while another fellowstands in front of them and says at the top of his voice, "Remembernow, you're madly in love with her, but father detests the sight ofyour face. Ready--hey, camera--all right--wait a minute, wait aminute, don't wrestle with her, embrace her, will you, _em_brace her!"

Kid Scanlan takes this all in with his eyes poppin' out of his head andhis mouth as open as a stuss game. 

"Some joint, eh?" he says to me. "This is what I call a _regular_cabaret! See if we can get a table near the front!"

A lot of swell-lookin' dames comes in--well, of course it _was_ somewarm out there, but even at that they was takin' an awful chance ongettin' pneumonia, and files out of a house on the left and starts todance and I had to drag the Kid away bodily. We duck through a sidestreet, and every time we turn around some guy with a camera yells forus to get out of the way, but finally we wind up at Mr. Genaro'soffice. He ain't in, but a guy that was tells us Genaro's makin' apicture of Richard the Third, over behind the Street Scene in Tokio. We breezed over there and we found him. 

Genaro is in the middle of what looks like the chorus of a burlesqueshow, only the men is wearin' tights instead of the women. I pickedhim out right away because he was the first guy I had seen in the placein citizen's clothes, outside of the guys with the kodaks. He waslittle and fat, lookin' more like a human plum puddin' than anythingelse. When we had worked our way through the mob, we saw that he wasshakin' his fist at 'em and bawlin' 'em out. 

"Are you Mr. Genaro?" I asks him. 

"Joosta wait, joosta wait!" he hollers over his shoulder without evenlookin' around. "I'm a ver' busy joosta now! Writa me the letta!"

"Where d'ye get that stuff?" I yells back, gettin' sore. "D'ye knowwho we are?"

I seen the rest of them gigglin', and Genaro dances around and throwsup his hands. 

"Aha!" he screams, pullin' at his hair. "You maka me crazy! What's amat--what you want? Queek, don't make me wait!"

The Kid growls at him and whispers in my ear, "Will I bounce him?"

"Not yet!" I tells him. "I'm Mr. Green, " I says to Genaro, "and thisis Kid Scanlan, welterweight champion of the world, and if you pull anymore of that joosta wait stuff, you'll be able to say you fought him!"

He drops his hands and smiles. 

"Excuse, please!" he says. "I maka mistake!" he grabs hold of his headagain and groans, "Gotta bunch bonehead here this morning, " he goes on, noddin' to 'em. "Driva me crazy! Shakespeare he see these feller playReechard, he joomp out of he'sa grave!" He swings around at them allof a sudden and makes a face at 'em, "Broadaway star, eh?" he snarls. "Bah! You maka me seek! Go away for one, two hour. I senda foryou--you all what you calla the bunk!"

On the level I thought he was gonna bite 'em!

The merry villagers scatter, and Genaro turns around to us and wipeshis face with a red silk handkerchief. 

"You knowa the piece?" he asks us. "Reechard the Third, Shakespeare?"

"Not quite!" I says. "What is he--a local scrapper?"

The Kid butts in and shoves me away. 

"Don't mind this guy, " he says to Genaro. "He's nothin' but a igrantroughneck! _I_ got you right away. I remember in this Richard theThird thing--they's a big battle in the last act and Dick tells agunman by the name of MacDuff to lay off him or he'll knock him for agoal!"

"Not lay off!" says Genaro, smiling "Lay on! Lay on, MacDuff!"

"Yeh?" inquires the Kid. "I thought it was lay off. I only seen thefrolic once. I took off a member of Dick's gang at the Grand Opreyhouse, when I was broke in Trenton. "

"Nex' week we start _your_ picture, " says Genaro to the Kid. "Mr. VanAylstyne he'sa write scenario now. This gonna be great foryou--magnificent! He'sa give you everything! Firsta reel you fall offa cliff!"

"Who, me?" hollers the Kid, "Si!" smiles Genaro. "Bada man wanna feex you, so you no fighta thechamp! You getta the beeg idea?"

"What's next?" asks the Kid, frownin'. 

"Ah!" pipes Genaro, rollin' his eyes at the sky. "We giva you thewhole picture! Second reel you get run over by train--fasta mail! Yousee? So you no fighta the champ!"

The Kid looks at me and grabs my arm. 

"This guy's a maniac!" he hollers. "Did you get that railroad thing?He--"

Genaro goes right on like he don't hear him. 

"Thirda reel!" he says. "Thirda reel you get hit by two automobiles, this bada feller try to feex you so you no fighta the champ!"

"Wait!" I butts in. "You must--"

"But fiftha reel--aaah!" Genaro don't pay no attention to me, butkisses his hand at a tree. "Fiftha reel, " he says, "she'sa great! Geteverybody excite! You get throw from sheep in ocean, fella shoot atyou when you try sweem, bada fella come along in motorboat, he'sa runyou down! Then you swim five, six, seven mile to land and there dozenfeller beat you with club--so you no fighta the champ!"

The Kid has sunk down on a chair and he's fannin' himself. His facewas the color of skim milk. 

"What you think?" asks Genaro. "She's a maka fine picture, what?"

"Great!" I says. "If that guy that wants to fix the Kid so he nofighta the champ loses out, they can't say he wasn't tryin' anyhow!Why don't you throw in another reel, showin' the lions devourin' theKid--so he no fighta the champ?"

"That's a good!" Genaro shakes his head. "I spika to Van Aylstyne!"

He took us up to his office and when we get inside the door they's adame sittin' there which would make Venus look like a small-townsoubrette. She looked like these other movie queens would like to!Whilst we're givin' her the up and down, she smiles at the Kid and heimmediately drops his hat on the floor and knocks over a inkwell. 

"Miss Vincent, " says Genaro, "this Mr. Kid Scanlan. He'sa work withyou nex' week. This Mr. Green, hisa fr'en'. "

We shake hands all around and the Kid elbows me to one side. 

"Where are you goin' this afternoon?" he asks the dame. "Anywheres?"

Genaro raps on the desk. 

"Joosta one minoote!" he calls out. "Mr. Kid Scanlan, I would like--"

"Joosta wait!" pipes the Kid. "Writa me the letta! I'm ver' busyjoosta now!" He puts one hand on the mantelpiece and drapes himself infront of the dame. "And you haven't been here long, eh?" he says. 

Genaro frowns for a minute and then he grins and winks at me. 

"Miss Vincent!" he butts in. "You show Mr. Kid Scanlan all around thisafternoon, what? Explain him everything about nex' week we maka hispicture. What you think, no?"

"Yes!" pipes the Kid grabbin' his hat. "I never been nowheres. Letsgo!"

The dame smiles some more, and, well, Scanlan must have been born witha horseshoe in each hand because she takes his arm and they blow. 

Just as they were goin' out the door, in comes Gloomy Gus which broughtus up from the station. He looks at the Kid and this dame goin' outand he sneers after 'em. 

"Champion!" he mutters, curlin' his lip. "Huh!"

The next mornin' we meet this guy Van Aylstyne who doped out the stuffso the Kid "no fighta the champ!" He's a tall, slim, gentle-lookin'bird, all dressed in white like a Queen of the May or somethin' andafter hearin' him talk I figured my first guess was about right. Wealso got to know Edmund De Vronde, one of the leadin' men and the shopgirls' delight, and him and Van Aylstyne were both members of the samelodge. Whilst we're standin' there talkin' to Genaro, who I found outwas the headkeeper or somethin', along comes Miss Vincent in one ofthem trick autos that has a seat for two thin people and a gasolinetank. Only, you don't sit in 'em, you just stoop, with your kneesjammed up against your chin. She drives this thing right up and stopswhere we're standin'. If she ever looked any better, she'd have fellfor herself!

"I'm going to Long Beach, " she sings out, "and I'm going to hit nothingbut the tops of the trees! Come along?"

De Vronde, Van Aylstyne and the Kid left their marks at the same time, but you know, my boy was welterweight champ and when that auto buzzedaway from there he went with it. 

"Ugh!" remarks De Vronde. "I loathe those creatures!" He dusts offhis sleeve where the Kid had grabbed it to toss him to one side. "Thefellow struck me!" he says indignantly. 

Van Aylstyne picks up his hat which had fell off in the struggle. 

"Thank Heavens, " he tells the other guy, "we will soon be rid of him!I'll have the script ready for Genaro to-morrow! I never saw such avicious assault!"

They walked away, and I turns to Genaro who had stepped aside for aminute. 

"Say!" I asks him. "Is this De Vronde guy worth anything to you?"

"_Sapristi_!" he tells me, makin' a face. "I could keel him! He'sawan greata big what you call bunk! He'sa no good! He can't act, hecan do nothing. Joosta got nice face--that's all!"

"Well, " I says, "he won't have no nice face, if he don't lay off theKid! If Scanlan hears him make any cracks about him like he just didnow--well, he'll practically ruin him, that's all!"

After a while the Kid and Miss Vincent comes back and she hurries awayto change her clothes because she's got to work in this Richard theThird thing. The Kid is all covered with dirt and mud and his face isall cut up from the flyin' pebbles and sand. 

"Say!" he says to me. "That's some dame, believe me! We passedeverything on the road from here to Long Beach and on the way back webeat the Sante Fe in by a city block! Come on over and see her work;she's gonna act in that Richard the Third thing!"

We breezed over past the African Desert and there's the troupe allgathered around a guy in his shirt sleeves, who's readin' 'em somethin'out of a book. One of the camera guys tells me it's Mr. Duke, Genaro'sassistant. 

"A fine piece of Camembert he is, too!" says this guy. "He put me overon this side to get the battle scene from an angle and tells me toshoot the minute the mêlée starts in case I don't get his signal. Oneof them dames fainted from the heat a minute ago and the rest of 'em gorushin' around yellin' like a lot of nuts. Naturally I thought thething went in the picture and I took forty feet of it before he calledme off! He's gonna report me now and I'm liable to get the gate whenGenaro shows up! I'll _get_ the big stew, though, --watch me!"

At this stage of the game, this Mr. Duke waves for us to come over. 

"Where's Mr. Genaro?" he wants to know. 

"Search me!" I tells him. "I just left him an hour or so ago and--"

He hurls down the book and dances around like he's gonna throw a fit orsomethin'. 

"I been all over the place, " he yells, "and I can't find him! I wantto get this exterior while the sun is right and there's no Richard orno Genaro!"

The Kid, who has been talkin' to Miss Vincent, comes over then and says, "What's all the excitement?"

"Who are you?" asks Duke. 

"We're from New York, " I butts in, "and--"

"Well, sufferin' cats!" hollers Duke. "Why didn't you say so before?One of you is the man I'm holdin' this picture for!"

"Why, Genaro says, " I begins, "that next week is--"

"Never mind Genaro!" shrieks Duke. "He ain't here now and I'mdirecting this picture! See that sun commencing to get dim? Which oneof you was sent on by Mr. Potts?"

"This guy here!" I tells him, pointin' to the Kid. "I'm his manager. "

"Carries a manager, does he?" snorts Duke. "Well, run him in thedressin' room there and get a costume on him. Hurry up, will you--lookat that sun!"

We beat it on the run for the place he pointed out, and as we startedaway I seen him throw out his chest and say to one of the dames, "_That's_ the way those stars should be handled all the time! Fussingover them is a mistake; you must show them at once that no such thingas temperament will be tolerated! Broadway star, eh? Well, you sawhow _I_ handled him!"

I didn't quite make that stuff, but I felt that somethin' was wrongsomewheres. Genaro had told me the Kid's picture wasn't to be made fora week, but we were gettin' thirty thousand for this stunt so I says tothe Kid, "Get in there and shed them clothes of yours and I'll beat it over tothe hotel and get your ring togs! They're gettin' ready to fix you soyou no fighta the champ!"

I beat it back to the trick hotel and got the suitcase with the Kid'sgloves, shoes and trunks in it and it didn't take me five minutes toget back, but that Duke guy is on my neck the minute he sees me. 

"Will you hurry up?" he hollers, pullin' a watch on me. "Look at thatsun!"

"He'll be out in a minute now!" I says. "I got a guy in there helpin'him dress. "

"He knows this stuff all right, doesn't he?" he asks me. "I understandhe's been doing nothing but the one line for years. "

"Knows it?" I laughs. "He's the world's champion; that's good enough, ain't it?"

"That's what they all say!" he sneers. "All I hope is that he ain't nocheap ham! Look at that sun gettin' away from me!"

While I'm tryin' to dope out what all these birds in tights and withfeathers in their hats has got to do with "How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle, " Duke grabs my arm. 

"Drag that fellow out of the dressin' room, " he says, "and tell him heenters from the second entrance where those trees are. He goes rightthrough the Tower scene--he knows it by heart, I guess. I'll be rightup on that platform there directing and that's where he wants toface--not the camera!"

Well, I went into the dressin' room and the Kid is ready. He's got ona pair of eight ounce gloves, red silk trunks and ring shoes. 

"What do I pull now?" he asks me. 

"Just walk right out from between them trees, " I says, "and they'll tipyou off to the rest. "

We sneaked around the scene from the back and stood behind the treewhich Duke had pointed out. A stage hand or somethin' who seemed to besufferin' from hysterics told us not to let Duke see us till we enteredthe scene, because it was considered bad luck to walk before the camerafirst. 

"Clear!" we hear Duke yellin', and then he blows a whistle. "Hey, movefaster there, you extra people, a little ginger! Billy, face center, can't you! Now, Miss Vincent, register fear--that's it, great! Allright, Richard!"

"That's you!" pipes the stage hand, and on walks the Kid. He stands inthe middle of the scene like he done many a time in the newspaperoffices back home and strikes a fightin' pose. 

A couple of women shrieks and runs back of the trees hidin' their facesand Miss Vincent falls in a chair and laughs herself sick. To say theKid created a sensation would be puttin' it mild--he was a riot! Therest of the bunch howls out loud, holdin' their sides and staggerin' upagainst each other, and the stage hands rolled around the floor. Butthe guy that was runnin' the thing, this Duke person, almost faints, and then he gets red in the face and jumps down off the platform. 

"What do you mean?" he screams at the Kid. "What do you mean by comingout before these ladies and gentlemen in that garb? How dare you? Isthat your interpretation of Richard the Third? Have you been drinkingor what?"

"What's the matter, pal?" asks the Kid, lookin' surprised. "I got towear _somethin'_, don't I?"

Off goes the bunch howlin' again. 

"If this is a joke, sir, " yells Duke, "it will be a mighty costly onefor you!"

This De Vronde has been standin' on the side lookin' on and the Kid, seein' Miss Vincent, waves a glove at her. She waves back holdin' herside and smiles. 

"Haw! Haw! Haw!" roars this De Vronde guy. "How droll!"

The Kid is over to him in two steps. He's seen that everybody isgivin' him the laugh and he realizes he's in wrong somehow, but thething has him puzzled. 

"Where d'ye get that 'haw, haw' stuff?" he snarls, stickin' his chinout in front of De Vronde. 

"Why, you ignorant ass!" sneers De Vronde, out loud, so's Miss Vincentcan hear him. "If you had any brains you'd know!"

"I don't need no brains!" snaps the Kid, settin' himself. "I got_this_!"

And he drops De Vronde with a right hook to the jaw!

"Boys!" screams Duke, pointin' to the Kid. "Throw that ruffian out!"

A couple of big huskies makes a dash for the Kid, and I figured I mightas well get in the thing now as later, so I tripped one as he was goin'past and the Kid bounces the other with a short left. De Vronde jumpsup and hits the Kid over the head with a cane, while Miss Vincentscreams and hollers "Coward!" Then a bunch of supers comes runnin' infrom the back just as the Kid puts De Vronde down for keeps, and in aminute everybody was in there tryin'. 

Everybody but one guy, and he was turnin' the crank of his camera likehe was gettin' paid by the number of revolutions the thing made. 

While it lasted, it was some fracas, as we say at the studio. Itcertainly was a scream to see them guys, all dressed up to play thelife out of Richard the Third, fallin' all over each other to get outof the way of the Kid's arms and bein' held back by the jam behind 'em. After the Kid has beat most of them up and I have took care of a fewmyself, a whistle blows and they all fall back--and in rushes Genaro. 

"Sapristi!" he hollers. "What you mean eh? What you people do with myReechard?"

Duke tries to see him out of his one good eye. 

"This scoundrel, " he pipes, pointin' to the Kid, "came out here to playRichard the Third costumed like that!"

Genaro looks from me to the Kid and grabs his head. 

"What?" he yells. "That feller want to play Reechard? Ho, ho! Youmaka me laugh! You're crazy lika the heat! That's what you callfighting champion of the world! He'sa Mr. Kid Scanlan. We maka hisapicture nex' week!"

Duke gives a yell and falls in a chair. 

I pulls on my coat and wipes my face with a handkerchief. 

"Yes, " I says, "and they just tried to fix him so he no fighta thechamp!"

"Zowie!" pipes Duke, sprawled out in the chair, "I thought he wasRoberts, the man we wired to come on from Boston! What in the name ofCharlie Chaplin will we do now? Potts will be here to-morrow to seethis picture and you know what it means, if it isn't made!"

The Kid is over talkin' to Miss Vincent and Genaro calls him over. 

"_Viola_!" he tells him. "You see what you do? You spoil the greatapicture, the actor, the everything! To-morrow Mr. Potts he'sa comehere. 'Where's a Reechard the Third, Genaro?' he'sa wanna know. Itella him--then, good-by everybody!"

"Everything would have been O. K. , " says the Kid, pointin' to De Vrondewho's got a couple of dames workin' over him with smellin' salts. "Everything would have been O. K. At that, if Stupid over there hadn'tgimme the haw, haw!"

We go back to the dressing-room and the Kid gets on his clothes. Thatnight, findin' that we was as welcome in Film City as smallpox, we wentover to Frisco and saw the town. 

When we come back the next mornin' and breeze in the gates, the firstthing we see is Gloomy Gus that drove us up from the station. 

"Say!" he sings out. "You fellers are gonna get it good! The boss ishere. "

"Yeh?" says the Kid. "Where's Miss Vincent?"

"Talkin' to the boss!" he answers. "I don't believe you're no fighter, either!"

"Where was you yesterday?" I asks him. 

"Mind yer own business!" he snaps. He gives the Kid the up and down. "Champion of the world!" he sneers. "Huh!"

"Go 'way!" the Kid warns him. "I got enough work yesterday!"

"I think you're a big bluff!" persists the gloomy guy, puttin' up hishands and circlin' around the Kid. "Come on and fight or acknowledgeyore master!"

He makes a pass at the Kid and the Kid steps inside of it and dropshim, just as a big auto comes roarin' past and stops. Out hops friendPotts, the guy that practically give us our start in the movies. Inother words, the thirty thousand dollar kid!

"Well, well!" he pipes, lookin' at the gloomy guy on the turf and thenat us. "What does this mean, sir? Are you trying to annihilate all myemployees? Do you know you cost me a small fortune yesterday byruining that Richard the Third picture?"

"I'm sorry, boss, " the Kid tells him, proddin' Gloomy Gus carelesslywith his foot, "but all your hired men jumped at me at once and a guyhas to protect himself, don't he?"

"Nonsense!" grunts Potts. "You assaulted Mr. De Vronde and temporarilydisabled several of my best people! I had made all arrangements forthe release of that Shakespeare picture in two days, and you have putme in a terrible hole!"

"Now, listen, " I butts in, "I tried to--"

"Not a word!" he cuts me off, wavin' his hands. "One of the cameramen, another infernal idiot, kept turning the crank while thisdisgraceful brawl was at its height and I have proof of your villainyon film! I'll use it as a basis to sever my contract with you and--"

"Slow up!" I says. "If you lay down on the thirty thousand iron men, I'll pull a suit on you!"

Along comes a guy and touches Potts on the arm. 

"They're waiting for you in the projecting room, " he says. 

"Come with me--both of you!" barks Potts, "and see for yourself thedamage you caused!"

We followed him around to a little dark room with three or four chairsin it and a sheet on one wall. De Vronde, Miss Vincent, Duke andGenaro are there waitin' for us. 

Well, they start to show the picture, and everything is all right up tothe time the Kid busted into the drama. Now I hadn't seen nothin' outof the way at the time it actually happened, but here in this littleroom it was a riot when they showed it on the sheet. You could seeScanlan wallop De Vronde and then in another second the massacre is onfull blast!

On the level, it was the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time. A guywith lockjaw would have to laugh at it. Here was the Kid knockin' 'emcold as fast as they come on, with their little trick hats and the pinksilk tights. There was a pile of Shakespeare actors a foot deep allaround him as far as you could see. Potts is laughin' louder thananybody in the place, and when they finally shut the thing off he slapsthe Kid on the back. 

"Great!" he hollers. "Wonderful! Who directed that?"

"_I_ did!" pipes Duke, throwin' out his chest. "Some picture, eh?"

"Joosta one minoote!" says Genaro, wakin' up, "joosta one minoote! Itwas under my supervision, Mr. Potts! I feexa the--"

"Cut that strip of film off!" Potts interrupts, "and take four morereels based on the same idea! Get somebody to write a scenario arounda fighter busting into the drama and playing Shakespeare! It's neverbeen done, and if the rest of it is as funny as that it will be aknockout!"

"But Reechard!" says Genaro. "What of heem?"

"Drop it!" snaps Potts. "Everybody get to work on this and I'll stayhere till it's finished!"

I looked around and pipe the Kid--over talkin' to Miss Vincent, ofcourse. 

"Say!" he wants to know. "Do we go to Oakland in that rabbit-chaser ofyours this afternoon, Miss Vincent?"

"Sir!" butts in De Vronde. "This lady and I are conversing!"

"Now listen, Cutey!" smiles the Kid. "You know what happenedyesterday, don't you?"

De Vronde turns pale and Miss Vincent giggles. 

"Of course we're going to Oakland!" she laughs. "I'm going to be yourleading woman next week in 'How Kid Scanlan Won the Title. '"

"Suits me!" says the Kid. "But say, on the level now--I'm thereforty-seven ways on that Shakespeare thing, ain't I?"

CHAPTER II

EAST LYNCH

Success has ruined more guys than failure ever will. It's like a SantaCruz rum milk punch on an empty stomach--there's very few people canstand it. Many a guy that's a regular fellow at a hundred a month, becomes a boob at a hundred a week. What beat Napoleon, Caesar andNero--failure? No, success! Give the thing the once over some timeand you'll see that I'm right. 

Success is the large evenin' with the boys at the lodge and failure isthe mornin' after. As a matter of fact, they're twins. Often you canbe a success without knowin' it, so if you been a failure all your lifeaccordin' to your own dope, cheer up. But when you get up to the topwhere you can look down at all these other guys tryin' to sidestep thebanana peels of life and climb up with you, knock off thinkin' what abig guy you are for a minute and give ten minutes to thinkin' what atough time you had gettin' there. Give five minutes more to ruminatin'on how long the mob remembers a loser and you'll find it the bestsixteen minutes you ever spent in your life. 

In these days when the world is just a great big baby yellin' for a newtoy every second, any simp can beat his way to the top. The real stuntis _stayin' there_ after you arrive!

Kid Scanlan was a good sample of that. When the Kid was fightin' forbean money and the exercise, he never spent nothin' but the evenin' andvery little of that. He didn't know whether booze was a drink or aliniment and the only ladies he was bothered about was his mother. Butwhen he knocked out One-Punch Ross for the title and eased himself intothe movies, it was all different. He begin to spend money like avice-investigating committee, knock around with bartenders and give into all the strange desires that hits a guy with his health and abankroll. I stood by and cheered for a while until he crashes in lovewith this movie queen, Miss Vincent, that got more money a start thanthe Kid did in a season and more letters from well wishin' males than anewly elected mayor. Then I stepped in and saved the Kid just beforehe become a total loss. 

I was standin' by the African Desert one day watchin' them take apicture called "Rapacious Rupert's Revenge, " when the Kid comes overand calls me aside. Since he had become a actor he had gave himself upto dressin' in panama hats, Palm Beach suits and white shoes. Hereminded me of the handsome young lieutenant in a musical comedy. Every time I seen him in that outfit I expected to hear him burst intosome song like, "All hail, the Queen comes thither!" Know what I mean?

Well, havin' lured me away under the shade of some palm trees, the Kidtells me he's goin' over to Frisco on a little shoppin' expedition, andhe wants me to come with him. I says I can't drink a thing because Ihave had a terrible headache since the night before when him and me andsome camera men went to Montana Bill's and toyed with the illegal brewfor a few hours. 

"That last round, " I says, "which I'll always remember because it cometo six eighty-five, was what ruined me. The bartender must have gonecrazy and put booze in them cocktails, because I've had that headacheever since!"

"It ain't the cocktails that give you the headache, " the Kid tells me, "it was the check. And you must have had a bun on before that, anyhow, because you paid it! But that's got nothin' to do with this here tripto Frisco. I'm not goin' to stop anywheres for no powders. I'm gonnaget somethin' I've needed for a long time!"

"What is it, " I asks him, "a clean collar?"

"I wish you'd save that comedy for some rainy Sunday, " he says; "thatstuff of yours is about as funny as a broken arm! Since I been outhere with these swell actors, I been changin' my clothes so often thatI'll bet my body thinks I'm kiddin' it. Stop knockin' and come over toFrisco with me and--"

I don't know what else he was goin' to say, because just at that minutea Kansas cyclone on wheels come between us and I come to in a ditchabout five feet from where the Kid is tryin' to see can he really standon his head. When I had picked up enough ambition to get to my feet, Iwent over and jacked up the Kid. About half a mile up the road thething which had attacked us is turnin' around. 

"Run for your life!" I yells to the Kid. "It's comin' back!"

Before we could pick our hidin' places, the thing has drawed up infront of us and we see it's one of them trick autos known to the tradeas racin' cars. I recognized it right away as belongin' to MissVincent. The owner was in the car and beside her was Edmund De Vronde, the shop-girls' delight. The Kid and De Vronde had took to each otherfrom the minute they first met like a ferret does to a rat. It was acase of hate at first sight. So you can figure that this littleincident did nothin' to cement the friendship. Miss Vincent leaps outof the thing and comes runnin' over to us. 

"Good Heavens!" she says. "You're not hurt, are you?"

She's lookin' right past me and at the Kid like it made little or nodifference whether _I_ was damaged or not. 

The Kid throws half an acre of California out of his collar and removesa few pebbles and a cigar butt from his ear. 

"No!" he growls, with a sarcastical smile. "Was they many killed?"

She takes out a little trick silk handkerchief and wipes off his facewith it. 

"I meant to step on the foot brake, " she explains, "and I must havestepped on the gas by mistake!"

"You must have stepped on the dynamite, " I butts in, "because it blowedme into the ditch!"

The Kid shakes a bucket or so of sand out of his hair and looks over atthe car where De Vronde is examin' us through a pair of cheaters andenjoyin' himself scandalously. 

"I see you got Foolish with you, " says the Kid to Miss Vincent. "What's the matter--are you off me now?"

She smiles and wipes some mud off the Kid's collar. 

"Why, no, " she tells him. "Genaro is putting on 'The Escapes of Eva'this morning and I'm playing the lead opposite Mr. De Vronde. Ihappened to pick him up on the road and I'm bringing him in, that'sall. "

"Yeh?" says the Kid, still lookin' over at the car. "What are _you_laughin' at, Stupid?" he snarls suddenly at De Vronde. 

De Vronde give a shiver and the glasses fell off in the bottom of thecar. While he was stoopin' down to look for 'em, the Kid turns to MissVincent. 

"I only wish he had been drivin' the thing, " he says, "because then I'dhave some excuse for bouncin' him! On the level, now, " he goes on, winkin' at her, "he _was_ drivin' the thing, wasn't he?"

"Oh, no!" she answers. "I was at the wheel. "

The Kid frowns and thinks for a minute. 

"Well, " he says finally, takin' another look at De Vronde, "ain't thebrakes or somethin' where he was sittin'?"

"No!" she tells him, grabbin' him by the arm. "Please don't lose yourhead now and start a fuss! I'm awfully sorry this happened, but aslong as neither of you were hurt and--"

"It didn't do me no _good_, that's a cinch!" butts in the Kid, with ameanin' look at his spoiled scenery. He walks over to the car andglares up at De Vronde. "Hey!" he snarls. "What d'ye mean by bein' ina automobile that runs over me, eh?"

De Vronde moves as far over as the seat will let him, and then fallsback on prayer. 

"I must decline to enter any controversy with you, " he pipes, after aminute. "You were standing in the right of way and--"

The Kid grins and holds up his hand. His face has lighted all up andhe's lickin' his lips like he always did in the ring when he seen theother guy was pickin' out a place to fall. He's walked around to whereDe Vronde had been sittin' and piped a little handle stickin' up. 

"What's this?" he calls to Miss Vincent, who's climbin' in the otherside. 

"That's just the oil pump, " she says. 

The Kid suddenly reaches up, grabs De Vronde by the arm and jerks himout of the car. 

"You big stiff!" he roars. "Why didn't you pump that oil, hey? If youhad done that, the thing wouldn't have hit us! I knowed it was allyour fault--you deliberately laid off that pump, hopin' we'd getkilled!"

With that he starts an uppercut from the ground, but I yanked him awayjust as De Vronde murmurs, "Safety first!" and takes a dive. MissVincent gets out and gives me a hand with the Kid, and De Vronde sitsup and menaces us with his cane. 

"That isn't a bit nice!" Miss Vincent frowns at the Kid. "That'sruffianly! You never should have struck him!"

"I didn't hit him!" yells the Kid. "The big tramp quit! If I had hithim he wouldn't be gettin' up. "

He starts over again, but I held him until she has climbed into the carwith De Vronde and they shoot up the road. Just before theydisappeared, De Vronde turns around in the seat and shakes his fingerat us. 

"Only the presence of the lady, " he calls, "saves you from my wrath!"

"Come on!" says the Kid, grabbin' my arm. "Let's get the next trainfor Frisco, before I run after that guy and flatten him! Believe me, "he goes on, lookin' up the road after the car, "I'll get that birdbefore the day is over if I have to bust a leg!"

And that's just what he did--both!

All the way over in the train I tried to work the third degree on theKid to find out what he was goin' to buy, but there was nothin' doin'. He stalled me off until we pull into the town and then he takes me to astreet that was so far from the railroad station I come near castin' ashoe on the way over. About half way down this boulevard there's agarage and the Kid stops in front of it. 

"Wait here!" he tells me. "And don't let nobody give you no babies tomind. I'll be right out!"

He slips inside and I'm lookin' the joint over when a big sign catchesmy eye. I took one good flash at the thing, and then I starts right inafter the Kid. A friend of mine in New York had gone into a place witha sign on it like that one time and made a purchase. Six months laterwhen he come out of the hospital, he claimed the bare smell of gasolinemade him faint Here's what it said on that sign, J. MARKOWITZ

 USED AND NEARLY NEW AUTOS

 FOR SALE

It was kinda dark inside and it takes me a minute to get my bearin's, but finally I see the Kid and a snappy dressed guy standin' in front ofwhat I at first thought was a Pullman sleeper. When I get a close up, though, I find it's only a tourin' car. It was the biggest automobileI ever seen in my life; a sightseein' bus would have looked like arunabout alongside of it. There was one there and it did! The thinghadn't been painted since the _Maine_ was blowed up, and you could seethe guy that had been keepin' it was fond of the open air, becausethere was samples of mud from probably all over the world on it. 

"You could believe it, you're gettin' it a practically brand new car!"the young feller is tellin' the Kid. "The shoes are in A number onecondition--all they need is now vulcanizin', and Oi!--how that carcould travel!"

"Just a minute!" I butts in. "Before you make this sale, I want tospeak to my friend here. "

Both him and the Kid glares at me, and the Kid pushes me aside. 

"Lay off!" he says. "I know just what you're gonna say. There's nouse of you tryin' to discourage me, because I'm gonna buy a car. HereI am makin' all kinds of money and I might as well be a bum!--noautomobile or nothin'. I should have had a car long ago; all the bigleaguers own their own tourin' cars. There's no class to you any more, if you don't flit from place to place in your own bus!"

"Yeh?" I comes back. "Well, Washington never had no car, but thatdidn't stop _him_ from gettin' over! I never heard of Columbus gettin'pinched for speedin' and Shakespeare never had no trouble withblowouts. Yet all them birds was looked on as the loud crash in theirtime. What's the answer to that?"

In butts I. Markowitz, shovin' his hat back on his ears. 

"That brings us right down to the present!" he says. "And I could tellyou why none of your friends had oitermobiles. Cars was too expensivein them days--a millionaire even would have to talk it over with hiswife before they should buy one. But now, almost they give them away!Materials is cheaper, in Europe the war is over and now competitionis--is--more! That's why I'm able to let your friend have this factorypet here for eight hundred dollars. A bargain you ask me? A man neverheard a bargain like that!"

"Don't worry!" I tells him. "Nobody will ever hear about it from me. If you made him a present of it and throwed in the garage, it wouldstill be expensive!"

"Who's buyin' this car?" snarls the Kid. "You or me?"

"Not guilty!" I says. "If you got to have a car, why don't you buy anew one?"

"This is the same as new!" pipes I. Markowitz. 

"Speak when you're spoken to, Stupid!" I says. 

"Don't start nothin' here, " the Kid tells me, pullin' me away. "Idon't want none of them new cars. They're too stiff and I might go outand hit somebody the first crack out of the box. I want one that'sbeen broke in. "

"Well, " I laughs, "that's what you're gettin', believe me! That therething has been broke in and out!" I turns to I. Markowitz. "What makeis the old boiler?" I asks him. 

"Boiler he calls it!" he says, throwin' up his hands and lookin' at theceilin'. "It's an A. G. F. I suppose even you know what an A numberone car that is, don't you?"

"No!" I answers. "But I know what A. G. F. Means. "

He falls. 

"What?" he wants to know. 

"Always Gettin' Fixed!" I tells him. "They make all them used cars. Iknow a guy had two of them and between 'em they made a fortune forthree garages and five lawyers! How old is it?"

"Old!" says I. Markowitz, recovering "Who said it was old? Your wifeshould be as young as that car! It was turned in here last week, onlyeight short days from the factory. The owner was sudden called heshould go out of town and--"

"And he went somewheres and got an automobile to make the trip, " I cutshim off, "and left this thing here!"

"Don't mind him!" says the Kid, gettin' impatient. "Gimme a receipt. "He digs down for the roll. 

While I. Markowitz is countin' the money with lovin' fingers, I wentaround to one side of the so called auto and looked at the speedometer. One flash at the little trick clock was ample. 

"Stop!" I yells, glarin' at him. "How long did you say this car hadbeen out of the factory?"

"Right away he hollers at me!" says I. Markowitz to the Kid. "A week. "

"Well, " I tells him, "all I got to say is that the bird that had itmust have been fleein' the police! He certainly seen a lot of theworld, but I can't figure how he slept. He was what you could call amotorin' fool. It says on this speedometer here, 45, 687 miles and ifthat guy did it in a week, I got to hand it to him! I'll bet he's sonutty over speed that he's goin' around now bein' shot out of cannonsfrom place to place, eh?"

I. Markowitz gets kinda balled up and blows his nose twice. 

"That must be the--the--motor number!" he stammers. 

"Sure!" nods the Kid. "Don't mind him, he's always got the hammer out. Count that change and gimme a receipt. "

"Wait!" I says. "Gimme one more chance to save you from givin'yourself the work. Have you heard the motor turn over? Does theclutch slip in all right? Do the brakes work? Has the--"

"Say!" butts in the Kid. "What d'ye think I been doin'--workin' hereat nights? Don't mind him, " he tells I. Markowitz, who ain't. "Hurryup with that receipt!"

"How is the motor?" I asks that brigand. "Tell me that, will you?"

"Convalescent!" he sneers, tuckin' the Kid's bankroll away. 

"Some motor, eh?" pipes the Kid. "And it's got a one-man top on itbesides, ain't it?" he asks I. Markowitz. 

"Why not?" says he. "Everything new and up to date you would find onthis car which only yesterday I could have sold to a feller for athousand dollars!"

After pullin' that, he walks over to the thing and climbs in the back. "An example!" he says. "If you're alone in the car and there's nobodywith you, you only should stand up on the seat and pull up the top likethis, if it comes up a rain. Then you--"

I didn't hear the rest on account of him havin' trouble makin' hisvoice travel from under the seat, because he reached up and pulledsomethin' here and jerked somethin' there--and that one-man top madegood! I thought at first the ceilin' of the joint had fell in, andI'll bet I. Markowitz _knowed_ it had, but then I seen it was only thething that keeps the rain out of the car. Me and the Kid drags himout, and as soon as he gets on his feet and felt to see if he had hiswatch and so forth, he wipes the dirt out of his eyes and turns on me. 

"It's a wonder I ain't now dead on account from you?" he snarls. "Isuppose you're one of them wise fellers from New Jersey, which they gotto be showed everything, heh?"

"Missouri!" I says. "Not New Jersey. If I was from New Jersey, Iwould probably be fightin' with the Kid to let _me_ buy the car!"

"It's got a self-commencer on it, too!" yelps the Kid, climbin' intothe front seat. "See--lookit!" He presses a button with his foot anda laughin' hyena or somethin' in the hood moans a couple of times andthen passes away. 

"The first time I wouldn't be surprised you should have to crank it, "says I. Markowitz. "The motor has been standin' so long--I mean--thatis--speakin' of motors, I think that one is maybe a little cold! Onceshe gets runnin' everything will be A number one!"

I goes around the front of the thing and stoops down. 

"Put her on battery, if there's any on there, " I calls to the Kid, "andI'll spin the motor!"

I. Markowitz steps over and lays his hand on my arm. His face is asserious as prohibition. 

"Its only fair I should tell you, " he whispers, "that she kicks alittle!"

I give him a ungrateful look and grabs hold of the crank. Afterturnin' the thing ninety-four times without gettin' nothin' but ablister on my thumb, I quit. 

"Nothin' stirrin', " I remarks to I. Markowitz. 

"Believe me, that's funny!" he tells me, shakin' his head like he hadball bearin's in his neck. 

"Ain't it?" I says. "Are you positive they's a motor inside there?"

He makes a funny little noise in his throat and not knowin' him long, Ididn't know what he meant. There's a big husky in overalls walkin' bywith plenty of medium oil on his face and a monkey wrench in his hand. I. Markowitz hisses at him, and they exchange jokes in some foreignlanguage for a minute and then the new-comer grabs hold of that cranklike the idea was to see if he could upset the car in three twists. Hegives it a turn, and I guess the Kid had got to monkeyin' around themlittle buttons on the steerin' wheel because it went off like a cannon. First, there was a great big bang! And then a cloud of smoke rolls outof the back of the car and the bird that had wound the thing up come toin an oil can, half way across the floor. The Kid fell off the seatand me and I. Markowitz busted the hundred yard record to the frontdoor. 

"That was a rotten trick, wasn't it?" I asks him when we stopped. 

"What do you talk tricks?" he pants. 

"Why, " I tells him, "puttin' that dynamite in the hood!"

"That wasn't dynamite, " he says. "She only backfired a little. Iwouldn't be surprised if it turned out there was, now, too much air inthe carburetor. The only reason I ran out here is because I seen itpassin' a friend of mine and--"

"I know, " I cuts him off. "I seen it too!"

We go back to the Kid and his play toy, and he's leanin' up against theside of it rubbin' his shoulder and scowlin'. 

"What kind of stuff was that, eh?" he growls at I. Markowitz. "I likedto broke my neck!"

"'Snothin'!" says he, pattin' the Kid on the back and smilin'. "Youcould do that with a new car, you could take my word for it. It's all, now, experience!" He looks around. "Herschel!" he hollers. 

It turns out that Herschel is the guy that had wound the thing up, andhe gets out of the oil can and comes over, mutterin' to himself andglarin' at all of us. He takes off the hood and stalls around it witha hammer and a monkey wrench for a minute, still mutterin' away, andyou could see he wasn't wishin' us no luck. Finally, he puts the hoodon again and walks around to the crank. 

"As soon as you could hear it buzz, " he grunts at the Kid, "you shouldgive her some gas. "

I stood aside and picked out my exit, and I. Markowitz seen his friendpassin' again so he started for the door. The Kid says we're bothyellah and climbs gamely back into the seat. Herschel stops mutterin'long enough to give the crank a turn, which same he did. This timethere was no shots fired, but the thing begins the darndest racket Iever heard in my life. A boiler factory would have quit cold alongsideof that motor and a cavalry charge would have gone unnoticed on thesame floor. I asked I. Markowitz what broke, and he says nothin' butthat the noise is caused by the motor bein' so powerful, fifty horsepower, he claimed. 

"You can't tell me, " I says, backin' away from the thing, "that nofifty horses could make that much noise, not even if they was crazy!The guy that brought that in here must have tied a lot of machine gunstogether with a fuse and Stupid there set 'em off when he turned thecrank!"

He runs around to the side where the Kid is and shuts down the gas andI seen half of Frisco lookin' in the door, figurin' the Japs had gotstarted at last, or else somebody was puttin' on a dress rehearsal ofthe Civil War. 

"Ain't she a beauty?" screams I. Markowitz to the Kid, barely makin'himself heard over the din. "Give a listen how that motor turnsover--not a break or a miss and as smooth like glass! That's hittin'on six, all right!"

"I'm glad to hear that, " I says. "I'm glad it's only six, because thething will have to quit pretty soon. There ain't no six nothin's couldstand up under that hittin' much longer!"

I. Markowitz steps on the runnin' board and holds on with both hands. He had to, because that motor had got the car doin' a muscle dance. 

"Where d'ye want to go?" he yells to the Kid. "I'll have Herschel takeyou out so he should show you everything. "

"Tell him to wash his face instead!" the Kid hollers back. "I don'tneed nobody to show me nothin' about a car. Come on!" he yells at me. "All aboard for Film City!"

"Ha! Ha!" I sneers. "Rave on! I wouldn't get in that thing forRockefeller's bankroll!"

I had to holler at the top of my voice to drown out that motor. 

"C'mon!" yells the Kid. "Don't be so yellah--you got everybody lookin'at you. She's all right now, and as soon as she gets warmed up she'llbe rollin' along in great shape!"

"Yes!" I says. "And so will I--in a day coach of the Sante Fe!"

Well, he coaxed, threatened and so-forthed me, until finally I took achance and climbed in beside him. The populace at the doors give threecheers and wished us good luck as we banged and rattled through theirmidst. We went on down the street, attractin' no more attention thanthe German army would in London, and every time we turned a new cornerpeople run out of their houses to see was there a parade comin'. Wepassed several sure enough automobiles and they sneered at us, and oneof them little flivvers got so upset by the noise that it blowed out atire as we went by. Finally, we come to the city line and the Kid sayshe figures it's about time to see can the thing travel. He monkeysaround them strange buttons on the steerin' wheel, pulls a handle hereand there and presses a lever with his foot. The minute he did that wegot action! That disappearin' cannon in the back went off three timesand I bet it blowed up all the buildin's in the block. There was ahorse and buggy passin' at the time and the guy that was drivin' itdon't know what happened yet, because at the first bang, that horsestarted for the old country and it must have been Lou Dillon--believeme, it could run! I looked back and watched it. A big cloud of smokerolls up from the back of the car, and I seen guys runnin' out ofstores and wavin' to us with their fists and then a couple of brave andbold motorcycle cops jumps on their fiery steeds and falls in behind. 

I guess the ex-owner of this bus was on the level at that about doin'them forty-five thousand miles in a week, because this car could havebeat a telegram across the country, "when she got warmed up!" as I. Markowitz says. Every one of them six cylinders was in there tryingand when they worked together like little pals and forgot whateverprivate quarrels they had, the result was _speed_, believe me! The Kidwas hangin' on to the steerin' wheel and havin' the time of his younglife and I was hangin' on to the seat and wishin' I had listened tothat insurance agent in New York. We come to the top of a hill and aswe start down the other side the prize boob of the county is waterin'the pavement around his real estate. When he hears us, he drops thehose which makes it all wet in front of us. 

"Hold tight!" screams the Kid to me. "We're gonna do a piece ofskiddin'. I forgot to get chains!"

Just about then we hit the damp spot and the Kid puts on the brakes. Sweet Cookie! You should have seen that car! It must have got sore atthe man with the hose and went crazy, because it made eight completeturns tryin' to get at him and the poor simp was too scared to run. Finally the thing gives it up and shoots down to the bottom of thehill. We hit a log and I hit the one-man top. Then the motor calls ita day and stops dead. The Kid hops out and walks around to the crank. He gives it a couple of turns and it turns right back at him. He grabsit again and it was short with a left hook to the jaw, and then the Kidshakes his head and takes off one side of the hood. He sticks his handdown inside and pulls out a little brown thing that looks like a cupwith a cover on it. 

"No wonder she stopped!" he says, holdin' it up. "Look what I justfound in here. "

I give it the once over. 

"What d'ye think of that, eh?" he says. "It's a wonder she run at all!I'll bet that boob mechanic left that in there when he started us offat the garage. " He throws the thing in a ditch and puts the hood on. "Now, " he says, "we're off for Film City!"

He grabs hold of the crank and gives it about eleven whirls, but thereain't a thing doin' and while we're stuck there like that, along comesa guy in another car. 

"Can I help you fellows out?" he hollers. 

"Yes!" I yells back. "Have you got a rope?"

He comes over and looks at the thing. 

"What seems to be the trouble?" he asks the Kid. 

"Nothin' in particular, " the Kid tells him. "She's a great little caronly we can't get her goin'. "

"Have you got gas?" asks the stranger. 

"Plenty!" says the Kid. "D'ye think I would try to run a car withoutgasoline?"

"I don't know, " says the other guy. "I never seen you before! Is yourspark all right?"

"A number one!" pipes the Kid. 

"And she won't run?" he asks. 

"She won't run!" we both says together. 

"Hmph!" he snorts, scratchin' his head. He opens the hood and fussesaround on both sides for a minute and then he rubs the side of his nosewith his finger. He looks like he was up against a tough proposition. 

"How far have you run this car?" he asks the Kid finally. 

"All the way from Frisco, " answers the Kid. 

"Like this?" he says, pointin' to the motor. 

"No!" I cuts in. "It was movin'. "

"Why you couldn't have gone three feet with this car!" he busts outsuddenly. "I never seen nothin' like this before in my life!"

"Why don't you go out at nights, then?" growls the Kid, gettin' sore. "Stop knockin' and tell us what's the matter with it. "

"There ain't nothin' the matter with it, " says the other guy with anodd little grin. "Not a thing--_only it ain't got no carburetor in it, that's all_!"

If he figured on creatin' a sensation on that remark--and from the wayhe said it, he did--he lost the bet. The Kid just gives him the babystare and shrugs his shoulders like it's past him. 

"No which?" he says. 

"Carburetor!" explains the native. "The little cup where your gasolinemixes with the air to start the motor. "

The Kid claps his hands together and yells, "That little crook back in Frisco must have held out on me!"

But I had been doin' some thinkin' and I looks the Kid in the eye, "What does this carburetor thing look like?" I asks the other guy. 

He describes it to me, and when he got all through I gives the Kidanother meanin' look and walks over to the ditch. After pawin' aroundin the mud for a while I found the little cup the Kid had throwed away. 

"Is this it?" I asks the native. 

"It is, " he says. "What was it doin' over there?"

"It must have fell off!" answers the Kid quickly, kickin' at me to keepquiet. 

Well, this guy finally fixes us up and about an hour later we hit thelittle road that leads into Film City, without havin' no furthermishaps except the noise from that motor. About half a mile from thegates I seen a familiar lookin' guy standin' in the middle of the roadand wavin' his hands at us. 

"Slow up!" I says to the Kid. "Here's Genaro!"

The Kid reaches down to the side of his seat and yanks a handle thatwas stickin' up. It come right off in his hand and we kept right ongoin'. 

"That's funny!" says the Kid, holdin' up the handle and lookin' at itlike it's the first one he ever seen. "We should have stopped rightaway--that's the emergency brake!"

He stamps on the floor with his foot a couple of times and shuts offthe gas. We drift right on, and, if Genaro had had rheumatism, hewould have been killed outright. As it was, he jumped aside just intime and the car comes to a stop of its own free will about twenty feetpast him down the road. 

"What's a mat?" yells Genaro, rushin' up to us. "Why you no stoppa thecar when you see me?"

"Why don't they stop prohibition?" I hollers back at him. "We musthave lost the stopper off this one, we--"

But he runs around the other side to where the Kid is sitting examinin'all them handles and buttons. 

"_Sapristi_!" he yells at the Kid. "Where you go, Meester Kid Scanlan?Everybody she's a look for you--Meester Potts he'sa want you rightaway! We starta firsta reel of your picture to-day. Everybody she'sagot to wait for you!"

"Keep your shirt on!" growls the Kid. "You told me this mornin' I hadlots of time, didn't you?"

Genaro grabs hold of a tree and does a little dance. 

"Aha!" he remarks to the sky. "He'sa make me crazee! What you carewhat I tole you this a morning? Joosta now I want you queek! You makamucha talk with me while Meester Potts and everybody she'sa wait foryou!"

"Well, " says the Kid. "Get in here and we'll go there right away. "

Genaro climbs in the back of the car. 

"Hurry up!" he says, holdin' his ears. "Anything so she'a stop thatterrible noise. Hurry up!"

"I'll do that little thing!" pipes the Kid--and we was off. 

I climbed over the seat and in the back with Genaro so's he wouldn'tfeel lonesome, and, so's if the Kid hit anything, I'd have a littlemore percentage in my favor. Genaro seems to be sore about somethingand to make conversation I ask him what's the matter. 

"Everything she's the matter!" he tells me, while the Kid keeps hisfoot on the gas and we bump and clatter along the road. "Everythingshe's the matter! I work all morning on lasta reel of 'The Escapes ofEva. ' Got two hundred extra people stand around do nothing. DeVronde, the bigga bunk, he's a play lead with Miss Vincent. " He stopsand kisses his hand at a tree we was passing "Ah!" he goes on. "She'safina girl! Some time maybe I ask her--pardone, I talka too fast!Lasta reel De Vronde he'sa get what you call lynched. They putta ropearound he'sa neck and he's a stand under bigga tree. Joosta as theypulla rope to keel him, Miss Vincent, " he throws another kiss at atree. "Ah! sucha fina girl!" he whispers at me rollin' his eyes. "Sometime I--pardone, everytime I forget! Miss Vincent she'sa comealong on horse and sava he'sa life--you see?"

"I got you!" I tells him. "Then what happens?"

"_Sapristi_!" he says. "That's all! What you want for five reels?But thisa morning, Meester Potts he'sa come up and watch. He'sapresident of company and knows much about money, but acting--bah! he'saknow nothing! Gotta three year old boy he'sa know more! He'sa standathere and smile and rub he'sa hands together lika barber while we takalasta reel. Everything she'sa fine till we come to place where DeVronde he'sa get lynch and Miss Vincent--ah!--she'sa come up on horseand sava him. Then Meester Potts he'sa rush over and stoppa thecameras. 'No!' he'sa yell. 'No, by Heaven, I won't stand for that!That's a rotten! You got to get difference ending froma that!'"

"What was the matter?" I asks him. "Didn't he want De Vronde saved?"

His shoulders does one of them muscle dances. 

"Ask me!" he says. "I couldn't tella you! He'sa know nothing aboutart! Joosta money--that's all. He'sa tella me girl saving leading manfrom lynch lika that is old as he'sa fren' Methuselah! He'sa wantsomething new for finish that picture--bran' new, he'sa holler or nopicture! All morning I worka, worka, worka, he'sa maka faces ateverything I do!"

"Well!" I says. "If you--"

I happened to look up just then and I seen the well known gates of FilmCity about a hundred yards away, and if we was makin' a mile an hour, we was makin' fifty. I leaned over and tapped the Kid on the shoulder. 

"Don't you think you had better slow up a trifle?" I asks him. 

"I don't _think_ nothin' about it!" he throws over his shoulder. "I_know_ it! I been tryin' to stop this thing for the last fifteenminutes and there's nothin' doin'!"

"Throw her in reverse!" I screams, as them great big iron gates loomsup over the front mud guards. 

"I can't!" he shouts. "The darned thing's stuck in high and I can'tbudge it!"

One of them gates was open and the Kid steers for it, while I closed myeyes and give myself over to prayer. We shot through leavin' one lamp, both mudguards and a runnin' board behind. 

"Hey!" yells Genaro. "What's a mat? Thisa too fasta for me! Stoppathe car before something she'sa happen!"

"Somethin' she'sa gonna happen right now!" I says. "Be seated!"

The Kid swings around a corner and everybody in Film City is eitherlookin', runnin' or yellin' after us. I often wondered what a wideberth meant, and I found out that afternoon. That's what everybody inthe place give us when we come through there hittin' on six as I. Markowitz would remark. A guy made up like a Indian chief jumpedbehind a tree and we only missed him by dumb luck. 

"Hey!" he yells after us. "Are you fellows crazy? Look out for theMoorish Castle!"

I yelled back that we wouldn't miss nothin' of interest, if we couldhelp it and the gas held out, and just then I got a flash at theMoorish Castle. It had been built the day before for a big five reelthriller that Genaro was gonna produce and I understand he was verypartial to it. As soon as he sees it he jumps up in the back of thecar and slaps the Kid on the shoulders. 

"Hey, crazee man!" he hollers. "Stoppa the car, I, Genaro, command it!Don't toucha my castle!" his voice goes off in a shriek. "_Sapristi_!--I--"

That was all he said just then, because we went through the MoorishCastle like a cyclone through Kansas, and as we come out on the otherside the whole thing tumbled down, bringin' with it a couple of Chinesepagodas that had just come from the paint shop. All we lost was halfof the radiator and the windshield. The Kid pulls a kind of a sickgrin and licks his lips. 

"Some car, eh?" he says, takin' a fresh grip on the steerin' wheel. 

I missed Genaro and lookin' back through the dust I seen him drapedover a fence with his head touchin' the ground and his feet up in theair. A lot of daredevils was runnin' towards us and yellin' murder. 

"Where's Genaro?" asks the Kid, as we miss a tree by a half inch. 

I shivered and told him. 

"The big quitter!" snarls the Kid. "Left us flat the minute somethin'happened, eh? I always knew that guy was yellah!"

We shot across the African Desert and comin' around another turn webust right into "The Escapes of Eva. " There's about two hundred supersdressed like cowboys and Duke, Genaro's assistant, is up on a littleplatform with the Big Boss Potts, directin' the thing. De Vronde isunder a tree with a rope around his neck and another one that don'tshow in the picture under his arms so's he can be pulled up and it willlook like he was bein' lynched. A little ways up the road is MissVincent on a horse, ready to make her dash to save De Vronde's life. 

As all this comes into view, the Kid swings around on me and shovessomethin' big and round in my face. 

"Now!" he hollers. "We're up against it for real! The steerin' wheelcome off!"

I pushed open the door on the side and stood on the runnin' board. 

"Let me know how you make out!" I yells. "I got enough!"

With that I jumps. 

Just as I hit the ground, I hear Duke yellin' through a megaphone. 

"C'mon, now--gimme action! Hey! Get two of those cameras at an angle. When I say 'Shoot!' you, Nelson, and Hardy pull that rope so De Vrondeswings about five feet clear of the ground! Be sure the rope is underhis arms, too! Hey, you extra people--a little ginger there! This isa lynching not a spelling bee! Dance around some--yell! That's it. Now, all ready?" He blows the whistle. "Shoot!" he yells, "and gimmeall you got!"

Well, the Kid did what he could--he blowed the little trick horn on theside of the car about a second before he shot into the mob. Thembloodthirsty outlaws just melted away before him, and them that wasslow-witted was picked up and tossed to one side before they knowedwhat hit 'em. They's a big stone wall at the other side of the treeand that's where the Kid was headed for. Just as he sails under DeVronde, who's hangin' from the rope over his head, the Kid sees thewall, grabs De Vronde by the legs and hangs there, lettin' that crazy, six cylinder A. G. F. Proceed without him. De Vronde and the Kidcrashes to the ground and the car dashed its brains out against thewall. 

While great excitement is bein' had by all, Duke jumps from theplatform to tell the camera men to cease firin' and a handful of actorsruns over to jimmy the Kid and De Vronde apart. I thought this Dukeguy was gonna explode, on the level it was two minutes before he couldspeak. 

"What d'ye mean, you ivory-headed simp?" he screams at the Kid, finally. "What d'ye mean by that? You've ruined a hundred feet offilm, you--"

I hear somebody puffin' along beside me as I come runnin' up and I seeit's Potts. He's red in the face and mumblin' somethin' to himself ashe waddles along. I felt real sorry for the Kid--car and job, bothgone! Potts rushes up and grabs Duke by the shoulder. 

"There!" he yells, pointin' to the Kid. "There stands a man that knowsmore about the picture game than the whole infernal lot of you!_That's the kind of a finish I've been trying to get for this pictureall morning_!"

CHAPTER III

PLEASURE ISLAND

Speakin' of boobs, as people will, did you ever figure what wouldhappen if the production of 'em would suddenly cease? Heh? Wherewould this or any other country be, if all the voters was wise guys andthe suckers was all dead?

In the first place, there wouldn't have been no ex-Land of the Rave andHome of the Spree, if Queen Isabella hadn't been boob enough to fallfor Columbus's stuff, about would she stake him and his gang of roughand readys to a couple of ferryboats and they'd go out and bring backChicago. Even old Chris himself was looked on as Kid Stupid, becausehe claimed the earth was round. The gang he trailed with had itfigured as bein' square like their heads. 

The guy that invented the airship was doped out as a boob until thething begin to fly, the bird that turned out the first steamboat wascalled a potterin' old simp and let him alone and he'd killhimself--and that's the way it goes. 

The sucker is the boy that keeps the wise guys alive. He'll tryanything once, and it don't make no difference to him whether it'sthree-card monte or a new kind of submarine. He's the guy that builtall the fancy bridges, the big buildin's, fought and won the wars thatthe wise guys started, and fixed things generally so that to-day youcan push a little trick electric button and get anything from a pieceof pie to a divorce. He's the simp that falls for the new minin'company stock, grins when the wise guys explain to him just how manykinds of a sucker he is, and then clips coupons while _they're_ gettin'up early to read the want ads. He's the baby that's done everythingthat couldn't be did. 

That's the boob!

The boob is the guy that takes all the chances and makes it possiblefor old Kid World to keep goin' forward instead of standin' still. Anyburg that's got a couple of sure enough eighteen-carat boobs in it, known to the trade as suckers, has got a chance. 

So the next time somebody calls you a big boob, don't get sore--thankhim. He's boostin' you!

Gimme ten boobs in back of me and I'll take a town, because they'lltake a chance. Gimme a hundred wise guys and the town'll take _us_, because them birds will have to stop and figure what's the use ofstartin' somethin'. 

Me for the boobs!

Kid Scanlan was a boob. He was a great battler, a regular fellow andall like that, but he was a boob just the same. He started fightin'because he was simp enough to take a chance of havin' his featuresaltered, and he won the title through bein' stupid enough to mix itwith the welterweight champion. I was the wise guy of the party, always playin' it safe and seein' what made it go, before I'd take achance. But the Kid got a whole lot further than I ever will. He madea name for himself in the ring and another in the movies and I ain'tchampion of _nothin'_--I'm just _with_ Scanlan, that's all. 

I'm gettin' offers from promoters here and there to have him startagainst some set up for money that was sinful to refuse, but there'snothin' doin'. The Kid has took to bein' an actor like they did togunpowder in Europe, and not only he won't fight, I can't even get himmad!

"I'm off that roughneck stuff!" he tells me. "Nobody ever got nothin'by fightin'. Look what it did to Willard! Besides, " he goes on, "whatwould John Drew and them guys think of me, if it should leak out that Ihad give in to box fightin' again? Why they'd be off me for life!Nope, let 'em battle in Russia, I'm through!"

Fine for a champion, eh?

Now here's a guy that went to the top in the one game where you can'tluck your way over. Because he was a fightin' fool, the 'Kid hadright-crossed his way to the title and now that he was up there, thebig stiff wouldn't look at a glove! No! he was a actor now! I'd tellhim that Kid Whosthis had flattened Battlin' McGluke the night beforeand we could get ten thousand to go six rounds with the winner. He'dflick the ash off a gold-tipped cigarette and say, "Yeh?" Then he'd grab me by the shoulder and pour this in my ear. "Did you get me in that Shakespeare picture last week? I hear the guythat writes up shows for the Peoria _Gazette_ claims Mansfield hadnothin' on me!"

A few months before he would have said somethin' like this, "All right! Wire the club we'll fight him, and if I don't bounce thattramp in two rounds, I'll give my end to them starvin' Armenians!"

Now I didn't kick when the Kid falls for Miss Vincent, because I hadseen Miss Vincent, and the Kid was only human. I didn't say nothin'when he staked himself to that second-hand auto that like to wreckedCalifornia, but when he pulls this actor thing on me and says pugilism, _pugilism_, mind you, ought to be discouraged--I figured it was abouttime for yours in the faith to step in. 

The Kid had two ambitions in life, both of which he picked up at FilmCity. One was to be the greatest movie hero that ever flattened avillain, and the other was to ease himself into the Golden West Club. 

The Golden West Club was over in Frisco, and as far as the average guywas concerned it could have been in Iceland. It was about as easy toget into that joint as it is to get into Heaven, and it was also theonly other place where you couldn't buy your way in. Your name had tobe Fortescue-Smith or Van Whosthis, and you had to look it. You had tobe partial to tea, wrist watches, dancin', opera, tennis and the like, and to top it all off you had to be a distant relative to a hick calledWilliam the Conqueror, who I hear was light heavy-weight champ in daysof old. If you checked up all right on them little details, they tooka vote on you. If you was lucky, you got a letter in a few weeks latersayin' your application was bein' considered and you might get in, butnot to bank on it, because they was havin' trouble connectin' up yourgrandfather with the rest of the family tree, it bein' said around thathe made his money through work. 

That was the place Kid Scanlan wanted to bust into!

One night he gets all dressed up like a horse in one of them soup andfish layouts, and he hires a guy to drive him over to the Golden WestClub in that second-hand A. G. F. He had. I will say the Kid went intothe thing in a big way, payin' seventy-five bucks for a dress suit andten more for the whitest shirt I ever seen in my life. He sends ineight berries for a hack-driver's hat and seven for a pair of tanshoes. Then he climbs into his bus and tells the driver, "Let's go!"Before he pulled out, he told me they was so many guys belonged to thething that he figured he could mix around for a few minutes withoutanybody gettin' wise that he wasn't a regular member, if he could onlybreeze past the jobbie on the door. 

And outside of the shoes, which I thought was a trifle noisy, the Kidsized up like any of the real club members I had seen, except his chestwasn't so narrow and he had an intelligent look. 

Well, he blowed in about twelve o'clock and come up to the rooms we hadat the hotel in Film City. He stands in the middle of the bedroom, takes off this trick silk hat, and, puttin' everything he had on thethrow, he pitched it into the bathtub. He slammed that open-faced coatin a corner and in a minute it was followed by them full-dress pants. The gleamin' white shirt skidded under the bed, neck and neck with theshoes. I didn't say a word while he was abusin' them clothes, but Iwas so happy I felt like cheerin', because they was somethin' in theKid's face I hadn't seen there since we hit the movies. The last timeI had caught him lookin' like that was when One-Punch Ross had droppedhim with a left hook, just before the Kid won the title. When the Kidgot to his feet that there look was on his face and two seconds laterhe was welterweight champion of the world and points adjacent. 

He inserts himself into his pyjamas and then he swings around on me. 

"How much did they offer us at the Garden for ten rounds with Battlin'Edwards?" he wants to know. 

I liked to fell out of the bed!

"Eight thousand, with a privilege of thirty per cent of the gross, " Isays, gettin' off of the hay. "Will I wire 'em?"

"Yep!" he snaps out. "Tell 'em I'll fight Edwards two weeks after Iget through here!"

"And when will that be, might I ask?" I says, ringin' for a messengerand tryin' to keep from dancin' a jig. 

"As soon as them simps finish that picture, 'How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle, '" he tells me. "Genaro says he'll start it to-morrow, and assoon as it's through, so am I--here!"

I didn't get the answer to all this until the Kid crawls into the hayhalf a hour later, scowlin' and mutterin' to himself. I took a goodlook at him and then I says, "Speakin' of clubs and stuff like that, how did you make out at thatGolden West joint to-night?"

He sits right up in the bed. 

"Are you tryin' to kid somebody?" he snarls. 

"I asked you a civil question, you big stiff!" I comes back, "and don'tbe comin' around here and slippin' _me_ that rough stuff! If you canbe a gentleman at your clubs and joints like that, you want to be onehere! D'ye get that?"

He looks at me for a minute and seein' I'm serious, he growls, "I thought you had heard about it!" Then he props himself up with thepillows and begins, "I went over there to-night and them boobs washavin' a racket of some kind, I guess, because all the automobiles inthe West was lined up outside the doors of the club. I tried to hornin the line with that boat of mine and the biggest nigger in the world, dressed up like a band leader, comes over and wants to know if I'm aguest. I told him no, that I was a movie actor and to step one side orhe'd break the headlights when I hit him. He claims I can't get in theline without I got a ticket showin' I'm a guest. I got tired of hischatter, so I dropped him with a short left swing and we keep on goin'till we wind up at the front door. This stupid simp I had drivin' mybus is lookin' at the swell dames goin' in, instead of at the emergencybrake, and he forgets to stop the thing till we have took off the rearend of a car in front of us and busted my front mudguard again. 

"While the chiffure of the wreck is moanin' to my guy about it, Iducked out the side and blowed around to the entrance. I figured theywas a password of some kind, so I says to the big hick at the gate, 'Ephus Doffus Loffus, ' and pushes past him, I guess he was surprised atme bein' a stranger and knowin' the ropes at that, because I seen himlookin' after me when I beat it up the first stairway to the secondfloor. I got a flash at myself in a mirror as I breeze past, and, if Ido say it myself, I was there forty ways. I was simply a knockout inthat evenin' dress thing! A swell-lookin' guy pipes me at the top ofthe stairs and, after givin' me the once over, he taps me on the arm. 

"'You may bring me a glawss of Appollinaris, my man, ' he says, 'and forheaven sake remove those yellow shoes!'

"With that he walks away and another guy comes up and whistles at me. When I turn around, he's givin' me the up and down through a glassthing he's got hung over one eye. 

"'Bring up a box of perfectos at once!' he pipes. 'Come! Look alivenow!'

"Then I got it! _I_ thought I was knockin' 'em dead and these guysthought I was a waiter! Well, I thinks, I'll show them boobs somethin'before I take the air--I can pull that stuff _myself_! With that Ibreezes into the next room and there's a hick sittin' at a table, toyin' with a book. He was as near nothin' as anything I ever seen, onthe level! He's got a swell dress suit on, but it didn't fit him nobetter than mine did me and it couldn't have cost no more or he wouldhave killed the tailor. Outside of the shoes, mine bein' classier, wewas both made up the same. A guy comes in, looks him over for a minuteand then he yawns. 'Bored?' he says. The simp that was sittin' downlooks back at him, yawns and says, 'Frightfully. ' Then the other guybows at him and goes out. Some other hick wanders in and says, 'Ah, Van Stuyvessant, bored?' and Stupid says, 'Frightfully' and the otherguy blows out. I seen that the coast was clear, so I smoothed my hair, pulled down my vest and throwed my chest out like them other guys did. Then I breezed in and stopped before this guy. He yawns and looks upat me very dignified like he was sittin' in the Night Court and I wasup before him for the third time in a week. 

"'Hey, Stupid!' I says. 'Get me a gin fizz and don't make it toosweet! And for heaven's sakes get rid of that shirt!'

"I thought he was goin' to get the apoplexy or somethin', because hisface is as red as a four-alarm fire. Then he says, "'Why--what--how dare you, you insolent puppy!'

"I leaned on his shoulder and tapped him on the end of the beak with mythumb. 

"'Lay off that stuff, Simple, ' I tells him. 'I'm a guest here and acouple of hicks took me for a waiter. I'm just gettin' even, that'sall. If you don't get me that gin fizz like I asked you, I'll knockyou for a goal!'

"He gets as white as my shirt and presses a little button on the table. A big husky, made up like a Winter Garden chorus man, runs in andStupid says, 'Eject this ruffian, Simms! And then you will answer tome for allowing him to enter!'

"Simms was game, but a poor worker, so I feinted him over in front ofhis master and then I flattened him with a left and right to the jaw. I took it on the run then and got out the back way!"

The Kid stops and heaves a sigh. 

"And then what?" I encourages him. 

"And then nothin'!" he says. "That's all! Except I'm off the GoldenWest Club, the movies and this part of the country! I got enough. Them guys over there to-night gimme the tip-off--I don't belong, that'sall! I was a sucker to ever stop fightin' to be a actor, but I gotwise in time. You go ahead and sign me right up with anybody butDempsey, and if Genaro don't start my picture to-morrow, I'll give 'emback their money and you and me will leave the Golden West flat on itsback!"

Say! I was so happy I couldn't sleep. I just turned over on my sideand registered joy all night long!

The next mornin' we go to Genaro the first thing, and the Kid puts itup to him right off the bat. Either he starts "How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle" or he kisses us good-by. Genaro raves and pulls his hair forawhile, but they ain't no more give to the Kid than they is to marbleand finally Genaro says he'll start the picture right away. 

We find out that another director is usin' the whole camp to put on atrick called "The Fall of Babylon, " so we got to go over to an islandin the well known Pacific Ocean and take what they call exteriorsthere. They rounded up Miss Vincent, De Vronde, the cuckoo that wrotethe thing, and about a hundred other people and load us all on a yachtbelongin' to Potts. We're gonna stay on this trick island till thepicture is finished, and we eat and sleep on the yacht. 

On the trip over, we all go down in what Potts claims is the grandsaloon and Van Aylstyne, the hick that wrote the picture, reads it tous. It starts off showin' the Kid workin' in a pickle factory on theEast Side in New York. They're only slippin' him five berries a weekand out of that he's keepin' his widowed mother and seven of herchildren. One day he finds a newspaper and all over the front page isa article tellin' about all the money the welterweight champion ismakin', so the Kid figures the pickle game is no place for a youngfeller with his talent, and decides to become welterweight champ. First he tries himself out by slammin' the guy he's workin' for, aftercatchin' him insultin' the stenographer by askin' her to take a ride inhis runabout, when the buyer is already takin' her out in hislimousine. When the boss comes back to life, he fires the Kid and ourhero goes out and knocks down a few odd brutes here and there forgettin' fresh with innocent chorus girls and the like. Finally, hepractically wrecks a swell gamblin' joint where he has gone to rescuehis girl, which had been lured there by the handsome stranger from thecity. 

"Well!" says Potts, when Van Aylstyne gets finished. "How does thatstrike you?"

"What I like, " pipes Miss Vincent, with a funny little quirk of her lipand a wink at De Vronde. "What I like is its daring originality!"

Van Aylstyne stiffens up. 

"Of course, " he says, kinda sore, "if I'm to be criticised by--"

"Ain't they no villains or nothin' like that in it?" butts in the Kid, frownin' at him. 

"Joosta one minoote!" says Genaro. "Don't get excite! That's joostafirsta reel!"

He waves his hand at Van Aylstyne, and this guy gives a couple ofglares all around and then turns over another page. It seems at thisstage of the game, a lot of gunmen get together to stop the Kid fromwinnin' the title, so they throw him off a cliff. He gets up, dustsoff his clothes, registers anger and flattens half a dozen of 'em. Alittle bit later he gets fastened to a railroad track and the fast mailruns over him. This makes him peeved, and he gets up and wallops acouple of tramps that's passing for luck. Then the villain's gang ofrough and readys grabs him again and he is throwed off a ship into theocean. A guy comes along in a motor boat, and, after shootin' a fewtimes at the Kid without actually killin' him, registers surprise andruns over him. When the Kid comes up there ain't nothin' to wallop, sohe swims six miles to the island. The minute he crawls on the beach hefaces the camera and registers exhaustion. Then a lot of guys jump outand stab him. He knocks 'em all cold and then he goes on, fights thechamp and wins the title. 

"Is that all there is to it?" asks the Kid, when Van Aylstyne stops forbreath and applause. 

"Practically all, " Van Aylstyne tells him. "Of course I'll have to goover it and spice it up a little more--get more action in it here andthere, wherever it appears to drag. But we can do this as we go along. "

"Yes!" says Potts. "You'll have to do that. I want this picture to bethe thriller of the year!" He scratches his chin for a minute andlooks at Van Aylstyne. "You better ginger it up a bit at that!" hegoes on. "It sounds a little tame to me. See if you can't work in acouple of spectacular fires, a sensational runaway with Mr. Scanlanbeing dragged along the ground, or you might have him do a slide forlife from the topmast of the yacht to one of the trees along the shorehere. "

"Wait!" pipes Genaro. "I have joosta the thing! While I listen, Igetta thisa granda idea! Meester Scanlan, he'sa can be throw from theairsheep and--"

"Lay off, lay off!" butts in the 'Kid. "They's enough action in thatthing right now to suit me! Don't put nothin' else in it. I'll bebusier than a one-armed paperhanger as it is!" He turns to VanAylstyne. "Where d'ye get that stuff?" he scowls. "Would _you_ jumpoff a cliff, hey?"

Van Aylstyne throws out his little chest, while the rest of themsnickers. 

"I _write_ it!" he says. 

"Yeh?" pipes the Kid. "Well, you'll _jump_ it, too, bo, believe me!"

"What's a mat?" hollers Genaro. "What's a use hava the fighta now?Wait till we starta the picture, then everybody she'sa fighta!Something she'sa go wrong. _Sapristi_! we feexa her then. Joostaholda tight your horses!"

He pats the Kid on the shoulder and slips him a cigar. 

The rest of the trip to the island took about two hours, durin' whichtime the Kid and Miss Vincent sat on the top deck, and she give him hisdaily lesson in how to speak English, eat soup and a lot more of thathigh society stuff. 

We finally got to this island place and by three o'clock the nextafternoon they was half way through with the first reel. I horned inon the thing myself, takin' off a copper, for which they gimme fivebucks even. 

That night they was big doings on board the yacht. They had music anddancin' and what not galore. Van Aylstyne, Potts, De Vronde and mostof the other help was there in the soup and fish and the twenty odddames that was actin' in the picture was all dressed up to thrill. Inever seen so much of this here de collect stuff in my life. I heard alot of talk around the studios at the camp about "exposures, " and, well, I seen what they meant all right that evenin'. It got me sodizzy, never havin' no closeups like that before, that I ducked for mystateroom about nine o'clock when the joy was just beginnin' to beunconfined and I hadn't been up there five minutes, when the Kid comesup and knocks at my door. 

"I'm goin' to hit the hay, " he tells me. "If I gotta fight Battlin'Edwards in two months, I'm gonna start readyin' up now! I been puttin'on fat since I been here, and it's got to come off. I'll get up atfive to-morrow and do a gallop around the island, and I just dug up acouple of ex-bartenders among the extry people which will gimme somesparrin' practice every mornin' till they give out!"

"Great!" I says. I was hardly able to believe my ears. It soundedlike the old Kid Scanlan again!

I closed the door, and just as he was turnin' away, I heard the swishof skirts and then I got Miss Vincent's voice. It was low and sweetand kinda soothin' and--well, she was the kind of dame guys kill eachother for! Do you get me?

"Oh!" she kinda breathes. "Why are you up here all alone?"

I heard the Kid's deep breathin'--it was always that way when _she_spoke to him, and I knowed without seein' 'em that his nails wasengravin' fancy work on the palm of his hand. 

"Why, " he says, tryin' to keep his voice steady. "I'm off this tangothing--and the last time I had one of them dress suits on, I wasmistook for a waiter!"

Y'know there was a funny little catch in the Kid's voice when he pulledthat, although he tried to pass it off by coughin'. That boy sure didwant to mix with the big leaguers, and, bein' Irish, it come hard tohim to miss anything he wanted. Usually he got it!

I heard Miss Vincent sneer. 

"Don't flatter these conceit-drugged travesties on the male sex bycaring about anything _they_ say, " she tells him. "You have so manythings they never will have! Why, you're a big, clean, two-handed manand--" She breaks off and gives a giggle that I would have took Verdunfor. "But there!" she goes on. "I--I--guess I'm getting tooenthusiastic!"

I could almost feel her blush, and I knowed how she looked when she didthat thing, so I says, "Good-by, Kid!"

"That's all right!" pipes the Kid. "It wasn't these guys here. But Ican't go downstairs anyhow, because I gotta start trainin' for Battlin'Edwards. "

"Oh, bother Battling Edwards!" she says. "I thought you promised me togive up prize fighting!"

This was a new one on me, and it cleared up a lot of things I hadn'tbeen able to figure out before!

"I gotta take it back, " I hear the Kid sayin' in a kinda dead voice. "I pulled a bone play when I did that! I can't give up fightin' nomore than you can give up the movies! The only thing I got is awallop, and that won't get me nowhere in the movies or society, but itgot me the title in the ring. I guess I'll stick to my own game!"

"Oh, come!" she tells him, kinda impatient. "You have the blues!Shake 'em off--I don't like you when you scowl like that. Come on downand have a dance with me. You'll feel better. "

"You said somethin'!" answers the Kid. "But I can't--on the level. Igotta train for this guy, or he's liable to bounce me, and, if I losethis quarrel, I'm through! Y'see, this ain't no movie, this is gonnabe the real thing! If this guy flattens me, he'll be the champion andyou _know_ that bird is gonna be in there tryin' till the last bell!"

I peeked through them little wooden cheaters on the window and I seenher kinda stiffen up and register surprise. 

"I am not accustomed to coaxing people to dance with me, Mr. Scanlan, "she says, "and--"

"Yes, and I'm not used to havin' dames like _you_ ask me!" butts in theKid. "But I gotta beat Edwards--and I can't beat him by stayin' uplate!"

She just breezes past him and down the deck without another word. 

The Kid kicks a fire bucket that was standin' there into the PacificOcean, and from the way he slammed the door of his stateroom I'll betall them trick beer mugs that Potts had on the wall fell on the floor. 

Well, the next mornin' we all go over to the island again and the Kidis up at daybreak, trottin' over the hills. He's got four sweaters on, although it's as hot as blazes, and I'm taggin' along in back of him. Then he comes back, changes his clothes and works in the picture tillnoon, when we knock off for the eats. Miss Vincent passed us once whenwe was talkin' to Genaro, and she deliberately passed the Kid up!

After that it was suicide to give Scanlan a nasty look. 

Along around two o'clock that afternoon, another yacht shows up alittle ways off the island and in a few minutes it stops and five guysand a woman hops in one of them trick launches and put-puts over to us. They get out and come up the string-piece and we get a good flash atthem. The male members of the party is all dressed up in blue coatsand white pants and from their general get-up I thought they was allgonna form a circle, pick up the ends of their coats and pipe. "Whatho, the merry villagers come and we are the daisy maids!"

All but one. He was a great big husky, kinda dark skinned and helooked like a assassin with the women, know what I mean? Also, I hadseen this bird somewheres before, but I couldn't check him up right offthe bat. The girl that was with the troupe was a good looker allright, and you could see she was a big-timer. But she was kinda thinand worn out to the naked eye. And when I got a close-up of her, Iseen there was a funny look in her eyes, like she had beendouble-crossed or somethin'. She looked at everything like she wishedit was hers, but there was no chance, d'ye get me?

Well, Potts comes a-runnin' to meet 'em and then he comes up andintroduces 'em all around. He claims they're from Frisco and friendsof his which has come over to see how movin' pictures is made and theymight even go so far as to take off a part in one of 'em, just for thedevilment of it. Miss Vincent looks hard and close at the dark-skinnedguy, like she was tryin' to think where she had seen him before, butGenaro come along just then and I'll bet them newcomers didn't get noencouragement from the way _he_ looked 'em over. De Vronde and VanAylstyne, though, fell for this bunch so hard they liked to broke theirnecks. It seems them two hicks found out they all was members of thisGolden West Club, and they did everything but shine their shoes fromthen on. 

When the Kid blows in and sees 'em, he claims he remembers 'em all asbein' among them present the night he went over to the Club, and hesays they had better keep lots of the Golden West between him and themwhile they was in our midst. 

The tall dark guy, whose name was somethin' like Brown-Smith, took oneflash at Miss Vincent and then everybody else could have been in Francefor all the notice _he_ give 'em. He took up his stand about two feetaway from her, and there he stuck all day long like cement. Anybodycould see that this stuff was causin' two people to register worry. They was the Kid and the dame that come over with the troupe. Scanlanwatches Brown-Smith makin' his play for Miss Vincent, and he seen thatif she wasn't encouragin' him, she wasn't complainin' to the policeeither, but the Kid keeps quiet and takes it out in makin' themsparrin' ex-bartenders tired of life. 

The next day I got up early lookin' for the Kid, and as I come througha clearin' in the island I seen three things at once, and if I hadn'tducked behind a tree, they'd have seen me. There's my meal ticket withall his sweaters off, standin' in the middle of the little space, shadow boxin' in front of a tree. The well known sun is shinin' downon his blonde head, and I never noticed before just what a handsomebrute the Kid was in action. The muscles in his arms are jumpin' andripplin' under a skin that a chorus girl would give five years for, andhe's as graceful and light on his feet as one of them Russian toedancers. 

The other two things I seen was Miss Vincent and the dame that hadblowed in with the Golden West boys. 

The new dame is watchin' the Kid like he was a most pleasin' sight tothem tired little eyes of hers. Her mouth is open a little bit andthere's a kind of wishin' smile on her lips. Y'know she looked likethis was what she wanted ever since she come into the store. Get me?

Miss Vincent is doin' a piece of watchin' herself around the treethat's between 'em, only she ain't watchin' the Kid. She's watchin'this new dame, and you can take it from me she was registerin' hate!That classy little nose of hers is quiverin' and she's bitin' hard onher lip. Her body was so stiff and straight that, on the level, Ithought she was gonna spring!

The Kid finally stops boxin', puts on his sweaters and then he gets aflash at the new dame. She calls somethin' to him and he comesover--then they start back to the yacht together. Miss Vincent ducksand so did I. I didn't want _none_ of them to see me, because thisthing was gettin' a little too deep for yours in the faith. 

They go ahead with another reel of the Kid's picture that morning andBrown-Smith still keeps hangin' around Miss Vincent like a panhandleroutside a circus, and when she has to come in the picture herself, hestands on the sidelines beside one of the camera men, with them chorusmen friends of his draped around him. The Kid is goin' through a scenewhere he flattens half a dozen guys that are tryin' to discourage himfrom fightin' the champ and Brown-Smith is givin' his friends the lowdown on it. 

"By Jove!" he sneers, just loud enough so's we can all get an earful. "It nauseates me to see that fellow knocking about those poor devilswho have to do that for a living! Fawncy him doing anything like thatin real life! Why, he would most likely call for the police if someone slapped his wrist. I know those moving picture heroes!"

This troupe of Sweet Williams around him snickers right out loud inpublic at that, like the big guy was simply a knockout as a comedian. Miss Vincent frowns and the new dame looks kinda worried and nervous, but the Kid just reddens a bit and continues to swat the supers allover the lot. Brown-Smith pulls a few more raw cracks like that, gettin' louder and nastier all the time, and finally he asks Potts tolet him take part in the big scene at the end of the reel where the Kidis supposed to bounce everybody in the thing but the camera men. Hesays it will be great stuff to tell about at the club the first rainynight and a lot of bunk like that--all the time he's watchin' the Kidwith that nasty sneer on his face. 

Potts says all right, and offers to stake him to an old suit ofclothes, but he laughs and says he won't need anything, tossin' hiscoat to one side like the acrobat at the theatre flips away hishandkerchief before goin' to work. He rolls up his sleeves and startslimberin' up his arms in front of Miss Vincent, winkin' at her andnoddin' to the Kid. She looks kinda worried, but her control is goodand she holds fast. She wasn't the only one that looked worried, believe me! I was doin' that thing myself, because this Brown-Smithguy had a good thirty pounds on the Kid, and he was built that way allover, reach, height and everything else. The minute he put up hishands, I seen two things. First, that he knowed somethin' about boxfightin' and, second, that he was goin' to try and bounce the Kid forthe benefit of Miss Vincent. 

While they're gettin' things ready for the massacre, the Kid comes overto me and says, "What's the big idea? I know this bird--he's the guy that asked me tobring him a _glawss_ of Appollinaris that night at the Golden WestClub. If he fusses around me, I'm gonna maul him!"

I knowed _that_ wasn't the reason, because Kid Scanlan could take botha wallop or a joke. The reason was standin' about three feet awaytalkin' to Genaro and she never looked better. Believe me, she hadeverything that mornin'!

"Looka thisa bigga boob, Miss Vincent!" Genaro is sayin', wavin' hisarms around and shakin' his head at Brown-Smith. "He'sa wanna get inmy picture so he showa the girls what a bigga fella he is. MeesterPotts he's a go crazee if thisa picture she's a no good. He's a joompat me, he's a holler at me and he letta thisa bigga bunk get in it!Thisa fight, she'sa gotta looka real--not lika the actor, butta _real_!Thisa fella he'sa go in slappa Meester Scanlan on he'sa wrist. MeesterScanlan he'sa no wanna hurt Meester Potts' fren'--you know?--so he'saslappa heem back! Everybody she'sa laugh at me when they showa thatpicture. Aha! They maka me crazee!"

He runs over to Brown-Smith and grabs his arm. 

"Please, Meester!" he begs him, with tears in his eyes. "Please, Meester, getta gooda and rough with thisa fella!" he points to the Kid. "Don't be afraid for heem, he's a tougha nut! He's a nevaire getahurt! Don't maka thisa fight looka like the act. You rusha heem, hitta heem, wrestle heem, choka heem, graba heem, bita heem, kickaheem, anything but keela heem, so thisa picture she looka like realafight! Pretty soon, I blowa the whistle. He's a hitta youeasy--so--you falla down. Maka looka good, don't sitta down, falladown--so!--" Genaro stops and throws himself on the grass and thenhops up again. "You watcha that?" he goes on. "Alla right!" He jumpsaway from the cameras and yells, "Hey, Joe! You stanna over there andshoota this froma the right! Alla right, now everybody! Meester KidScanlan, you ready? Gooda! Come now--cameras--ready--shoot!"

The Kid meets the rush of the gang like they had practised it together, and he floors one after the other of them with snappy left hooks. Ofcourse he was pullin' his punches and barely touchin' these hicks, butit looked awful good from front. Then Brown-Smith, who had beenhangin' around on the outside, rushes in. For a guy who had nevertried the thing before, he struck me as bein' real swift at pickin' upthe rules, because he faced the cameras at the right angles and pulleda lot of fancy stuff that usually nobody but a sure enough movie actorknows. The Kid sidesteps him and puts a light left to his chin andBrown-Smith comes back with a right swing that would have floored theKid, if it hadn't been too high. The Kid went back on his heels and alittle trickle of claret comes from his lips. Genaro jumps in the air, clappin' his hands. "Magnificenta!" he yells. Miss Vincent isbreathin' hard and her hands pressed up tight against her chest. Herface was the color of skimmed milk. Genaro pipes her and grabs acamera man. "Shoota that--queek!" he hollers, pointin' to her. Thenew dame runs over to me and grabs my arm. 

"Stop it!" she whispers, excited like. "You must! Albert will killhim! He was amateur heavyweight champion once and--oh!--he wants tobeat Mr. Scanlan--he--oh!--"

I heard Miss Vincent give a little yelp, and I shove this dame awayand, believe me, bo, _I_ come near goin' dead on my feet! _Becausethere's my champ on the ground, layin' flat on his face and he lookedas cold as the North Pole_! I started to dash in, but Genaro grabs meand throws me aside. "Stoppa, fool!" he yells. "Thisa picture she'samaka me famous!"

The rest of the mob is too scared to do anything--they knowed that thiswas the real thing! The Kid gets up on one knee, and, on the level, the only sound you could hear was his choked breathin' and the steadyclick of the cameras--yes, and I guess the beatin' of my heart! TheKid is shakin' his head to clear it from that wallop and I yelled tohim to stay down and take his time. He gets half way up and slidesdown again flat and Brown-Smith laughs. Then Miss Vincent suddenlyturns, and there's a bucket of ice cold lemonade standin' on a benchbeside her. It had been put there for the extry people. This hereeighteen-carat, regular fellow dame grabs that bucket and throws thelemonade all over the Kid's head and shoulders!

It braced him like a charge of hop--his head jerked up as it hit himand he shook off the drops--and in another second he was on his feet, smilin' the old Scanlan smile and dancin' around this guy who wasrushin' in to finish him. He swings for the Kid's jaw and the Kid, movin' his head an inch out of the way, puts a hard right and left tothe mouth. Brown-Smith coughed out a tooth that he had no further usefor, and starts backin' away, coverin' up like a crab. The Kid laughsover at me and sends this guy's head back like it was on a hinge, withtwo uppercuts and a right jab. He tries to rush in and grab the Kid, and Scanlan closes his left eye with the prettiest straight left I everseen. He wasn't tryin' to knock this big stiff out, he wasdeliberately cuttin' him to pieces in a most cold, workmanlike manner. 

Miss Vincent is smilin' now and the other dame--is not! Potts's mouthis open about five yards and he looks like he don't know whether tocall the police or go back to the box office for a better seat. Thenthe Kid starts backin' friend Brown-Smith all over the place, shootin'lefts and rights at him so fast that I bet he thought it was rainin'wallops. He begins to register yellah--he gazes around wildly atGenaro and Genaro reaches for the whistle so's Brown-Smith can quit, but Miss Vincent sees him reach for it and she knocks it out of hishand! Genaro looks hard at her and yells to the camera men to keepturnin' the cranks. Potts starts over, stops, shakes his shoulders andturns his back. 

Then the Kid tips back Brown-Smith's head with a lightnin' right hookand drops him with a left to the jaw. 

They stopped the cameras and everybody give a hand in bringin' thedashin' Brown-Smith back to the Golden West again. Everybody but me, the Kid and Miss Vincent. The Kid walks over to Potts and stares athim. 

"Well, " he says. "I guess I'm through after that, eh?"

Potts slaps him on the back. 

"Hardly!" he grins. "That was the greatest piece of acting I ever sawbefore a camera!"

Genaro runs up and grabs the Kid's hand. 

"Wonderful!" he hollers. "Magnificenta! You are what you calla thetrue artiste, Meester Kid Scanlan! That picture she will be the talkaof the country! She'sa maka me famous!"

"Yeh?" says the Kid. He turns to me and waves over to whereBrown-Smith is recognizin' relatives and close friends. "That guy hasan awful good left!" he says. He thinks for a minute. "D'ye know, " hegoes on, "that hick was _tryin'_, at that!"

I see Miss Vincent talkin' to Potts and all of a sudden he throws uphis hands and stares over at Brown-Smith. 

"What?" he hollers. "Impossible!"

Then he slaps his hands together and laughs out loud. 

"Oh!" he says, holdin' his sides. "This is too much! Ha, ha, ha!"

"What's the joke?" I asks Miss Vincent. 

"It's more of a tragedy!" she says, kinda hysterical like she was gladit was all over. "That man is no more Brown-Smith than you are. He'sAlbert Ellington LaRue, who five years ago was the biggest movingpicture leading man in the country! Why, he got hundreds of lettersevery day from poor, foolish little girls who grew dizzy watching himfoil villains in five reels a week. He inherited some money--quite alot, I believe, and suddenly vanished from the screen, turning up asBrown-Smith here last year. But he simply could not resist the call ofhis vanity to come back once more as the dashing hero of the film. Hehad planned to step into this picture, turn the tables in the fightwith Mr. Scanlan, who he thought was an actor and not a pugilist, andthus come back to the movies in a blaze of glory! He told me he hadtwo press agents awaiting the word to flash his coup all over thecountry. He thought it would make a great story!" She stopped andlaughed. "It will!" she goes on. "Think of the matinée girls whenthey see their darling Albert back in the flash once more and beingunmercifully beaten by a man thirty pounds lighter and inches smallerthan him!"

Just then the fair Albert comes limpin' over to Potts. He looked likehe'd been battlin' a buzz saw!

"Mr. Potts, " he says, "if you dare to use that scene in your picture, Iwill bring suit against your firm. I demand that the film be destroyedat once!"

"What you say!" screams Genaro. "Nevaire! She'sa mine, that picture!Away wit' you--you bigga bunk!" He stands before the camera like he'sready and willin' to protect it with his life. 

"You entered the scene of your own accord, _Mr. LaRue_, " remarks Potts, "and I trust you are in earnest about suing us. The publicity willjust about save me a hundred thousand in advertising. "

As soon as he heard that name "LaRue, " this guy just kinda caves in andcloses up tight. Miss Vincent turns her nose up at him and walks overto the Kid as the other dame comes up and shakes Scanlan's hand. 

"Thank you!" she says, in that tired voice of hers. "You have done abig thing for me! Now he cannot go into the pictures again, and maybehe'll--he'll stay home with me!"

At that Miss Vincent suddenly leans over and kisses her. Can you beatthem dames?

Albert picks up his hat and straightens his tie. Then he glares fromone to the other of us and walks over to Genaro. 

"I trust, " he says, throwin' out his chest. "I trust you realize thatif your picture is a success, I, and I alone, am responsible for it. If it hadn't been for the advent of myself, a finished artist, in thatfight scene, it would have fallen flat! Good day, sir!"

And him and his dame and the white-faced Sweet Williams blows!

CHAPTER IV

LEND ME YOUR EARS

I don't mind a four-flusher if his stuff is good, know what I mean? Aguy that makes the world think he's there forty ways when as a matterof fact, he's _shy_ about sixty, deserves credit. Usually, them birdsget it too! They know more about credit than the guy that wrote it, and any butcher, grocer, tailor or the like who figures on 'em settlin'the old account has no right to be in business. The only time afour-flusher pays off is when he hits a new town. Then, if theattendance is good, he'll buy four or five evenin' papers right outloud in front of everybody, carelessly displayin' a couple of yellowbills that might be fifties--if they wasn't tens. After that outburst, all he spends is the week end. 

For the benefit of them which live in towns where the total vote forPresident sounds like the score of a world series game, I'll explainwhat a four-flusher is, although they probably got one in their midst, at that. You'll generally find _one_ wherever there's two people--menor women. A four-flusher is a guy who claims he can lick Jack Dempseyin a loud and annoyin' voice, and then runs seven blocks in fiveminutes flat when some hick in the back room arises to remark that he'swillin' to take a beatin' for Jack. A four-flusher is the bird thatbreezes down Main street in a set of scenery that would make John Drewlook like one of the boys in the gas main trenches somewheres inBroadway, and yet couldn't purchase an eraser, if rubber was sellin' atthree cents a ton. A four-flusher is a hick that admits bein' a bettersinger than Caruso, a better ball-player than Ty Cobb, a better realestate judge than Columbus and more of a chance taker than Napoleon. 

The first time he starts at any one of them things, he's a odds-onfavorite for last and finishes ten lengths behind the rest of thefield. That's a four-flusher. 

A guy can be taught paintin', pinochle, politics and prohibition, but afirst-class four-flusher is _born_ that way!

Takin' 'em as a league, I'm about as fond of them guys as a worm is ofa fisherman. The only one I ever fell for was J. Harold Cuthbert, andthat bird had somethin' that the others didn't--he was different! Ithought I had seen 'em all, but this guy crossed me, his stuff was new!

The way I met Harold was almost romantic. He was reclinin' on theground in a careless manner about ten feet away from the main entranceto Film City, and he looked like the loser in a battle royal where theweapons used had been picked out by a guy who hoped there'd be nosurvivors. He was gazin' up at what the natives insist is a bettergrade of sky than anything we got in the East, and he looked like hewas tryin' to figure whether they was right or not. About two feetaway, lumberman's measure, observin' the wreck and yawning was FrancisXavier Scanlan, known to the trade as Kid Scanlan, welterweightchampion of the world and Shantung. I looked around for a director anda camera man, but they was nobody else in sight, so figurin' thiscouldn't be nothin' more than a dress rehearsal, I stepped over to theKid. 

"Who's your friend?" I asks him, noddin' to the sleepin' beauty. 

"I seen Genaro lookin' for you, " says the Kid. "I'll bet you been overto Frisco tryin' to nail that dame at the Busy Bee, ain't you?"

"A gambler will never get nowheres, " I tells him, "but you're startin'off with a win on that bet!" I points at the model for still lifeagain. "When does that guy get up?" I inquires. 

The Kid looks down at him for a minute, proddin' him carelessly withhis foot. 

"Weather permittin', " he answers, "he ought to be on his feet in fivemore minutes, and I'd never have raised a finger to him, if he hadn'tcome at me first!"

"D'ye mean to say you been wallopin' that guy?" I says. 

"Well, what does it look like?" sneers the Kid. "A man's got a rightto protect himself, ain't he?"

"He hit you, eh?" I says. 

"No!" answers the Kid. "He didn't get that far with it, but he claimedhe was goin' to, and naturally it was up to me to stop him from gettin'in a brawl. I never seen a gamer guy in my life, either, " he goes on, admirin'ly. "He knows he'll catch cold layin' on the ground like that, and yet the minute I stung him he takes a dive and stays down!"

By this time our hero has risen to his feet and, while dustin' off hisclothes, he looks like he's figurin' whether he ought to claim he'dbeen doped and ask for a return bout, or call it a day and let it go atthat. Except for where the Kid had jabbed him, he wasn't a bad lookin'bird, his best bets bein' a crop of dark, wavy hair and a set offeatures which any movie leadin' man could give ten thousand bucks forand make it up on the first picture. The suit of clothes he waswearin' had probably put the tailor over, and he also had two yellowgloves and a little trick cane. He walks over to where me and the Kidwas standin' and takes off his hat. It was one of them dashin', devilish soft things that has names like Pullman cars--you know, "TheBryn Mawr, $2. 50. All Harvard Wears One. " Then he points at the Kidwith his cane. 

"I made a serious error, " he remarks, "in engaging in a brawl with athug! I thought you would meet me with a gentleman's weapons and--"

"I ain't got a marshmallow on me, " butts in the Kid, grinnin', "or Iwould have done that thing. You come at me without no warnin', didn'tyou?"

"Merciful Heaven, what grammar!" says the other guy. "I didn't come atyou, as you say in that quaint English of yours, I thought you couldtake a joke or--"

"Yeh?" interrupts the Kid. "That's what the formerly Kaiser has beentryin' to tell the world, but it ain't goin' into hysterics over hiscomedy!"

"Well, " says the other guy, buttonin' up his coat and glarin' at usboth, "this is not the end of the incident, you can rest assured ofthat! The next time we meet I think the result will be different!"

"Say!" pipes the Kid. "What d'ye think I'm gonna do--fight a worldseries with you? If you wanna scrap, I know where you can get all theaction you can handle. "

"And where is that, pray?" asks the other guy. 

"Russia!" says the Kid. "You must have seen it in the papers. " Hepats him on the shoulder. "And now, good-by and good luck, " he goeson. "I'm sorry I had to bounce you, but--"

"Enough of this nonsense!" cuts in the other guy, pullin' out a cardand passin' it over to the Kid. "My seconds will wait upon youto-morrow. I choose rapiers!"

"You which?" says the Kid, examinin' the card. "I don't make you. "

"I said that my choice of weapons is rapiers!" explains this guy. "Andas a matter of fairness I must tell you that I have never met my equalwith a sword!"

"Are you tryin' to kid me?" asks Scanlan. "What d'ye mean rapiers?"

"Is it possible you have never handled a blade?" exclaims the otherguy, like he couldn't have heard it right. 

"I used to, at that, " admits the Kid, "but now I use a fork, except topat down the potatoes!"

"So much the worse for you, then!" frowns the sword-swallower. "Butyou brought it upon yourself. Remember, to-morrow! And--" he stoopsover and hisses, "--rapiers, without buttons!"

"Ha, ha!" yells the Kid. "Raypeers without buttons! How are you gonnahold 'em up?"

"Your ignorance is pathetic--not funny!" answers the other guy. 

"I know, " says the Kid. "I barely got through Yale!" He lays his armon this guy's shoulder. "Are you on the level with this fight thing?"he asks him. 

"I was never more in earnest in my life!" says the knife-thrower. 

"Or nearer Heaven!" grins the Kid. "All right!" he goes on. "I'mgame, if you are, only there's just one question I'd like to ask beforethe slaughter begins; don't _I_ get no say about the tools we're gonnause?"

This guy thinks for a minute and then nods his head. 

"Very well!" he says. "I'll make the concession--an unheard-of thingin the code. What is your choice?"

"Pinochle!" yells the Kid. "I'll stake you to a hundred aces and beatyou from here to Denver!"

"Ugh!" snorts the other guy--and castin' a sneer at both of us, hepasses in the gate. 

We went in after him, and the Kid tells me how he come to flatten thisbaby, which, from the card he give us, was J. Harold Cuthbert. The Kidsays Harold stopped him outside the portals of Film City and asked himwhy no auto had met him at the train. Scanlan says he didn't know, buthe had seen the mayor and two brass bands goin' down and hadn't Haroldmet 'em? Harold says he had not and he was gonna file a complaintabout it, because he was the greatest movie actor that ever bawled outa director. With that, says the Kid, he reeled off the names of thepictures he had been featured in, and from the list he give out theonly thing he wasn't featured in was "Microbes at Play, " a educationalfilm tore off by the company last year. The Kid asks him if he everheard of Kid Scanlan, the shop girls' delight, who was bein' starred ina five-reeler called "Lay Off, MacDuff. " Harold throwed out his chestand says he wrote it and practically made Scanlan by directin' it. Atthat the Kid tells him that he may be a movie star, but he looks like aliar to him. Harold makes a pass at him, and Scanlan hit him to seewould he bounce. He didn't, and he was just comin' around when Iblowed on the scene. 

When we got to Genaro's office, Harold was tellin' Eddie Duke thereason he was bunged up was because he had fell off the train comin'out, and Eddie says that was tough and it was time Congress got afterthem railroads, but the thing he'd like to know was why Harold had comeout at all. They had looked up the files and there was nothin' to showwho had ordered this guy shipped on. 

Harold looks over the bunch in the office for a minute, registers"I-am-thinking-deeply, " and then snaps his fingers. 

"Oh!" he says. "I had a letter of introduction from Mr. Potts, but Isuppose it's in my gray morning suit which will arrive with my trunksin a day or so. Mr. Potts and myself are old friends, " he winks atGenaro confidentially. "I really think my father owns a slew of thecompany's stock, but then Dad is connected with so many vastenterprises that--"

"Joosta wan minoote!" interrupts Genaro, turnin' a cold eye on Harold. "Joosta wan minoote! We're very busy joosta now, sometime nex' weekeverybody she'sa listen about your father. What we wanna know is whatMeester Potts he'sa senda you out here to do?"

"Yeh!" says Duke. "That's the idea--what's your act?"

"Why, I intend to play romantic leads, " pipes Harold, "and I have anidea that--"

"Ha, ha!" laughs the Kid. "That's fair enough. All Edison had was aidea, and look at him now!"

Harold frowns at him and walks over to Miss Vincent. 

"How do you do, Miss Vincent, " he says, takin' off his hat andpresentin' her with a bow. "I knew you at once from your photographs. I have a remarkable memory, inherited from my father. The late J. P. Morgan once said of him, during the course of a gigantic stock deal, that--but enough of personalities. I saw you in the 'Escapades ofEva. '"

"Did you like me?" smiles Miss Vincent. 

"Very much!" Harold tells her. "Although the mediocre support andexecrable direction spoiled most of your opportunities. Now if _I_ haddirected that picture, you would have been a great deal--"

"Joosta wan minoote!" butts in Genaro, gettin' red in the face. "I, Genaro, directed that picture!"

Harold looks over at him and lights a cigarette. 

"Well, " he says, flickin' the ash in Genaro's drinkin' glass, "Idaresay you did your best! But had _I_ been there when the picture wasbeing produced, I would have suggested a great many things that wouldhave greatly improved it. I remember calling Belasco's attention to adetail one time and Dave said to me--"

"Enough!" snaps Genaro, glarin' at him. "You will report to MeesterDuke. He'sa tella you what to do. Or maybe, " he snorts, "maybe _you_tella heem!"

And he stamps out of the office. 

"What a quaint little man!" says Harold, sittin' down in Genaro's chairand glancin' with interest over some letters that was on his desk. "How do those chaps ever get into the movies?"

"Ow!" whispers Duke. "If the quaint little man had only heard that!"He turns, to Harold. "I don't know where I can place you right away, "he says. "How are you on Shakespeare? We're putting on a seven reelerof 'As You Like It' with Betty Vincent as Rosalind. Do you think youcould do Orlando?"

Harold throws out his chest and sneers. 

"What a question!" he remarks. "I could eat it up!"

"I don't want you to eat it, " says Duke, gettin' sore. "If you canplay it, I'll be satisfied! You had better go over and register at thehotel now, and, when you come back, we'll go over the thing. "

Harold gets up, yawns and looks at Miss Vincent. 

"I'll show you an entirely new interpretation of Rosalind, MissVincent, " he tells her. "Of course, Shakespeare was clever after afashion, but _I_--however, " he breaks off and holds out his arm. "Would you care to walk about the grounds here a bit, so that I mayillustrate some of the salient points in my version?"

"No!" cuts in the Kid, before she can answer. "On your way!" he says. "Miss Vincent's got a date with me to find out is it true you can makeninety miles an hour in a 1921 Automatic!"

"But--but, my dear sir--" splutters Harold. "I--you--"

"Listen, Stupid, " says the Kid. "I can't be bouncin' you all day, butif you don't canter along, I'll make you hard to catch!"

Miss Vincent smiles and grabs the Kid by the arm. 

"Let us have no violence!" she says. "You can tell me all aboutRosalind when I return, Mr. Cuthbert. "

"Yeh, " adds the Kid. "I'll be willin' to stand for a earful of itmyself, then. "

And they breeze out of the office. 

"Heavens, what an uncouth ruffian!" pipes Harold, lookin' after 'em. "I wonder Miss Vincent trusts herself in his company. "

"She's a whole lot safer with him than you'd be, old top!" I says. "And if I was you, I'd lay off that uncouth ruffian stuff around theKid. Don't keep temptin' him, because he's liable to get sore, andwhen Scanlan gets mad you want to be in the next county!"

"Huh!" sneers Harold. "What does he do, pray?"

"Well, " I says, "I'll tell you. I don't get that dewpray thing ofyours, but the last time the Kid got peeved he won the welterweighttitle! Is that good enough?"

"He had better look to his laurels, " remarks Harold, "for if he insultsme again, he'll lose them! I'm rather a master of boxing, and at homeI won several medals as an amateur heavy--"

"I suppose, " I butts in, "I suppose you left them medals in one of themgray mornin' suits of yours, eh? You didn't have 'em on when the Kidflattened you, did you?"

"I am not fond of vulgar display, " he says, "or--"

"What are you wearin' that black eye for then?" I asks him. 

He didn't have none ready for that, and I blew. 

Well, Harold run true to form. 

The next afternoon I seen Duke standin' near the African Desert. Hewas callin' upon Heaven in a voice that could be heard plainly in CapeMay, N. J. , to ask it if it had ever seen a actor like J. HaroldCuthbert. Not gettin' no answer, he turned his attention to the otherplace, and when he seen me he put it up to me. 

"What's the matter with Harold?" I asks him. "I thought he was gonnabe a knockout in this Shakespeare stuff. "

"He was!" says Duke. "The camera men are laughin' yet! Alongside ofthat big four-flusher, Kid Scanlan would look like Richard Mansfield!"

"He's rotten, eh?" I says. 

"Rotten?" yells Duke. "Why, say--callin' him _rotten_ is givin' him a_boost_! If that big stiff is an actor, I'm mayor of Shantung! Hedon't know if grease paint is to put on your face or to seal letterswith, he's got the same faculty of expression on that soft putty map ofhis as an ox has, he makes love like a wax dummy and he come out toplay 'As You Like It' in a dress suit! It took eight supers to keephim away from in front of the camera, and he played one scene with hisface glued up against the lens!"

Just then Harold himself eases into view with the Kid taggin' along athis side. Scanlan is excited about somethin' and wavin' his arms, butHarold still has that old sneer on his face, and as they come up, Ihear him sayin' this, "My dear fellow, I know more about auction pinochle than Hoyle. Athome I am recognized as the champion card player of--" He breaks off, when he sees us, and turns to Duke. "Hello!" he calls over. "Are youready to admit now that my idea of making feature productions is theright one?"

"No!" snarls Duke. "But I'll concede that as an actor you're acrackerjack bartender! D'ye mean to tell me that you got away withthat kind of stuff in the studios back East?"

"I introduced it!" says Harold, proudly. "As a director for some ofthe largest film companies in the world, I have put on hundreds of--"

"The only thing you ever put on was your hat!" interrupts Duke. "And Ibet that give you trouble on account of the size of your head. Isuppose you're gonna tell me that you're also a scenario writer, acamera man and the guy that got Nero's permission to film the burnin'of Rome, eh?"

"The last is something of an exaggeration, " pipes Harold, "but as faras the other things you mentioned are concerned, I must confess thatthere are few people in the business who have approached me!"

"Ain't that rich?" whispers the Kid to me. "You got to hand it to thisbird!"

"You'd be a wonder as a press agent!" I says to Harold. 

"Now that's odd you should remark that, " he smiles. "For, as a matterof fact, I excel in _that_ field! I did all the press work for--"

"Columbus!" yells Duke, wavin' him off. "Good-by!" he goes on. "I gotenough! You got a liar lookin' like George Washington!"

Harold looks after Duke as he went into the office. 

"Heavens!" he says. "I can't stand that man with his petty littlejealousies! Now when I--"

I don't know what the rest of it was, because me and the Kid left himto tell it to the African Desert. 

Well, Genaro bein' afraid to get in dutch with Potts, which accordin'to Harold was a ex-roommate of his, give this guy a crack at everythingfrom directin' to supin', and Harold hit . 000 at 'em all. The onlything he seemed to be any good at was talkin' about himself, and he waschampion of the world at that! He was willin' to concede thatWellington beat Napoleon and it was Fulton who doped out the steamboat, but _he_ was the guy that had put over everything else. His favoriteword only had one letter in it, and that's the one that comes rightafter H. No matter what subject would come up anywheres where Haroldcould get a earful of it, he was the bird that invented it!

We went down to Montana Joe's one afternoon to deal prohibition a blow, and the Kid gets talkin' about drinkin' as a art, carelessly lettin'fall the information that, before he had put the Demon Rum down for thecount, he had been looked on as a champion at goin' through the rye. He winks at Joe and orders a tumbler of private stock. Harold neverbats a eye, but says he's got a roomful of lovin' cups which was givehim for emptyin' bottles. Joe sets down a mixin' glass full of boozebefore the Kid, and Scanlan looks at Harold and asks Joe what was thematter with the shaker. Harold coughs and raps on the bar. "You maylet me have a seidel of gin!" he says, sneerin' at the Kid--and we allfainted!

He got run out the south gate one afternoon by a enraged scene painterfor tellin' the latter that he could shut both eyes, bind one arm, layflat on his side and paint a better exterior than the two hundreddollar a week decorator, and he started a riot in the developin' roomanother time by remarkin' that the bunch in there didn't know how topaste up film--adding of course, that _he_ did. He tried to show VanAylstyne how to write scenarios, and Van Aylstyne threatened to quitcold if Harold wasn't called off, and when he found fault with Genaro'slightin' of a night scene, Genaro chased him all over the place with apractical shotgun. 

It wouldn't have been so bad, if Harold had come through on_somethin'_. If he had discovered _anything_, he could actually doeven half way decent, he would have got away with murder. Butno!--That bird was the original No Good Nathan, from Useless, Miss. 

The fact that he didn't cause no sensation in our midst, worried Haroldabout as much as the price of electric fans keeps 'em awake in Iceland. There was only one thing Harold was afraid of--and that was lockjaw!

Then Potts blows in unexpected one afternoon, and we all stood aroundto see him and Harold fall on each other's neck. In fact, pretty neareverybody in Film City watched the reunion which took place on the edgeof the Street Scene in Tokio--it was very affectin'. 

Potts comes walkin' along with three supers and Eddie Duke carryin' hissuitcases, when Harold bumps into the parade at the corner. Genaro hadsent him over to Frisco for a lot of props that would be needed in apicture he was puttin' on, and naturally, now that Potts was on hand, he was anxious to have everything O. K. He had give Harold a list inthe mornin' that read like a inventory of a machine shop, and here'sfriend Harold comin' back with nothin' in his hands but his fingers. 

"The props--where are they?" shrieks Genaro. "Seven hour you have beengone and you come back with nothing! Everything she'sa ready and wemusta wait till you come with the props--where are they--queek?"

"My dear fellow, " says Harold, bowin' to Miss Vincent, "there is noexcuse for addressing me before these ladies and gentlemen in thatruffianly manner. I was unable to carry out your--er--orders thismorning, having overlooked a trifling detail in the scurry and bustleof catching that ungodly early train. "

"What!" screams Genaro, doin' a few cabaret steps. "You got nothing?_Sapristi_! What you do--make fun of me? Why you no get those props?"

"Calm yourself!" pipes Harold. "I'll tell all. I forgot the list ofarticles you gave me and--"

"Aha--he'sa maka me crazee!" yelps Genaro, pullin' a swell clog step. "Take heem away before I keel heem!"

Just then Potts comes by, and we all yell, "Welcome to Film City, Mr. Potts!" Harold hears this and turns pale. He seen we was all watchin'closely for the grand reunion between him and his old college chumPotts. He coughs a couple of times and takes a step forward. That boywas game!

"How do you do, Mr. Potts?" he says. "Did you--er--have a pleasanttrip?"

"Yes, " answers Potts, lookin' at him kinda puzzled. "What is your nameagain? I don't seem to recall it!"

And the boss was supposed to be Harold's dear old college chum!

"Why--er--why--ha! ha!" pipes Harold, dyin' game. "That's odd! Surelyyou recall--eh--Cuthbert, my name is, you must remember--eh--why in NewYork we--eh--"

He's about eighty feet up in the air and still soaring with the wholebunch watchin' him and enjoyin' the thing out loud. Potts is lookin'him over like he's a strange fish or somethin'. 

"I think you're mistaken!" pipes the boss, cuttin' in on Harold, "Inever saw you before in my life!"

With that he passes on, leavin' Harold flat and with no more friendsthan China had at the Peace Conference. 

After that little incident, it was about as pleasant for Harold in FilmCity as it was for a German in Liverpool durin' the war. Genaro, Dukeand everybody else went out of their way to make him sick of themovies, but Harold stuck around and took whatever odd jobs that comehis way with the remark that he could do it better than anybody elseand that was why they give it to him. 

I made a mistake when I said everybody rode him--he had three littlepals. They was Miss Vincent, the Kid and yours in the faith. MissVincent claimed that after all he was only a boy which would grow outof lyin', if give enough time, and it was a outrage the way everybodypicked on him. The Kid said we couldn't all be perfect, and MissVincent would give him back his presents if he laid off Harold. _My_excuse for not shootin' Harold was that I liked one thing about him, and that was the way he hung on, no matter how they was breakin' forhim. He was no good all over, but he wouldn't _quit_ and any guy thatcould stand up under punishment like he did is worth a cheer anytime--and sometimes a bet!

I thought I'd brighten his life by tellin' him how he stood with thethree of us. I pictured him goin' down on his knees and thankin' mewith tears in his eyes, when I said that we was with him to the bitterend. He must have had rheumatism or a pair of charley horses, becausehe failed to do any kneelin' where I could see it, and his eyes was asdry as the middle of Maine. Instead of that, he took me for ten bucksand said the news was no surprise to him. He didn't see how MissVincent could miss likin' him, because he had been a assassin with thewomen from birth. As for the Kid, well, it was common talk thatScanlan was afraid of him, and I was nothin' but a sure-thing playerwhich knowed he was a winner and stuck, hopin' I'd cash. 

Could you tie Harold?

Van Aylstyne, the guy that committed the scenarios, went out one nightto get some atmosphere for a thriller at Montana Joe's. He got theatmosphere O. K. , bringin' most of it back on his breath and the Kidasked him to stick out his tongue so he could see was they any revenuestamps on it. In the mornin' he grabbed a container of ice water and apen and dashed off a atrocity in five reels based on what atmosphere ofMontana Joe's that was still with him. He called the thing "The End ofthe World!" Potts says the title alone sounded good enough to him toremove the bumpers from his bankroll without lookin' further, addin', in a loud aside, that if the plot wasn't a knockout, Van Aylstyne couldchange the title to "The End of My Job!" De Vronde, the popularheart-breaker, is given the lead opposite Miss Vincent, and, of course, Kid Scanlan is to be dragged in as a special feature. Harold hashypnotised Genaro into lettin' him take off a "enter with others" inthe first reel. Everything was ready to have the cameras pointed atit, when somethin' come along that balled it all up. 

Her name was Gladys O'Hara. 

Gladys was no ravin' beauty and I heard her say "ain't it" twice, butshe was one of them dames that the first flash you get at 'em youwonder are they still enforcin' the law against mashers! She had awonderful complexion and although if you looked close you could see shehad give nature a helpin' hand, she did the retouchin' so well that youwas glad she had. She had one of the latest model, twin-six figuresand she dressed with the idea of givin' the natives a treat, even ifshe was takin' chances on pneumonia. Gladys was the kind of dame thatstarts the arguments in the newspapers on what is our offices comin'to, look how them stenographers dress!

When J. Harold Cuthbert met Gladys, she had got as far as bein' asaleslady in the Busy Bee, Frisco. She could have beat that with hereyes closed, but Gladys kept hers open and, bein' a female wise guy, she knew who to eat lunch with and who to say, "I don't get you!"to--which is a art! As a result, she had never got no further thansellin' shirtwaists and had her first home to break up. She neveradvanced beyond that counter--up or down! Many a necktie salesman hadflashed Gladys and gone right out to buy the tickets, before he evenasked her would she look over a show, windin' up by throwin' 'em awayand tellin' her what a sweet old woman his mother was and how strong hewas for his own gas meter. That was Gladys. She looked like what shewasn't, and she fooled 'em all. 

All but Harold!

I found Gladys very easy to look at myself, and I helped the Sante Feover a tough year by runnin' over to Frisco to the Busy Bee whenever Icould get away. It took me a short month to find out that I had thesame chance of winnin' out as I'd have of gettin' elected King ofMontenegro by acclamation, because Harold had been there first and gotin his deadly work. 

I was standin' in the next aisle to where Gladys held forth, oneafternoon, waitin' for a couple of fatheads to call it a day and moveaway from the counter, when along comes Harold. As usual, he was alldressed up like a horse, with the even fare back to Film City in themone-way pockets of his. He butts right into the conversation, and Inearly fainted when he passes a box of candy over to Gladys. Then Iseen the label on the package, and I revived, because it was one of adozen that some simp had sent Miss Vincent and in order to please theKid she had give 'em all away. Harold had brought his all the way overto Frisco on a ticket furnished by the Maudlin Movin' Picture Company, which sent him over for props. 

Well, Harold gets warmed up and in a minute he's press agentin' himselfat the rate of fifty-five words a minute--I clocked him! He tellsGladys he's bein' _starred_ in "The End of the World" and the amount ofmoney they're payin' him would startle Europe, if it ever got out. Heclaims he made 'em all faint at the rehearsals and offers from othercompanies is comin' in so fast that he's got a charley horse on histhumb from openin' telegrams. From that he works into the fact thatafter the picture is made he's gonna run around Europe--that's just theway he said it, "Run around Europe!" Oh, boy!--that bein' the way heusually spent his vacations. When Gladys staggers over to wait on acustomer, Harold charges himself up again and when she comes back he'soff to a runnin' start. He remarks that his father has just made akillin' in Wall Street that has caused Rockefeller to weep and gnashhis teeth and that the last affair his mother give at Newport got fourcolumns on the front page, although the mayor of the town had been shotthe same afternoon. 

Gladys takes this all in with her mouth as open as Kelly pool and hereyes half closed and dreamy like she was dyin' happy. 

When Harold put on the brakes and eased up, she throwed him a look thatI would have walloped Dempsey for. Harold says he must go, because thepicture would be ruined if he wasn't there to direct it, and Gladysholds out a tremblin' hand. Then Harold plays his ace--he takes offhis hat, bows, kisses that hand and blows. 

When I seen Gladys deliberately walk back of the wrappin' booth, puther hand to her lips and kiss it herself--I pulled my hat down over myears and went back to Film City. 

The next mornin' they begin work on the first reel of "The End of theWorld, " and Harold had a field day at bein' rotten. He got ineverybody's way, ruined twenty feet of film by firin' off a cannon atthe wrong time and made Genaro hysterical by gettin' caught in a papiermache tower and pullin' it down. Not content with that, he goes backof a interior to try out one of the Kid's cigarettes and by simplyflickin' the thing into a can of kerosene he set the Maudlin Movin'Picture Company back about five hundred bucks. 

They run him out of the picture, and he went, yellin' that it would bea farce without him in it. 

About four o'clock me and the Kid is trottin' along the road outside ofFilm City like we did every day so's Scanlan could keep in condition, when we all but fell over Harold. He's sittin' on a rock and gazin'off very sad in the general direction of New York. His dashin', smashin', soft hat was yanked down over his home-breakin' face, and hisdimpled chin was buried in his lily white hands. He looked like a guythat has worked twenty-seven years inventin' a new steamboat and thenseen it sink the first time he tried it out. 

The Kid runs over and slaps him on the back just hard enough to makehis hat fall off. 

"Cheer up, Cutey!" pipes Scanlan. "They can't hang a guy for tryin'!"

Harold retrieves his hat, smoothes it out carefully and lets loose thegloomiest sigh I ever heard in my life. 

"Have you a cigarette?" he asks sadly. 

The Kid pulls out a deck, and Harold takes two, droppin' one in hispocket. 

"Alas!" he remarks, strikin' a match on my shoe. "Alas!"

"When can the body be seen?" asks Scanlan. "And is it a church funeralor will they pull it off at the house?"

"This is no time for levity, " mutters Harold. "I'm ruined!"

"I only got ten bucks with me, " the Kid tells him, "but I'll partwith--"

"Poof!" sneers Harold, wavin' his hands like a head waiter. "Money! Iam not in need of that. Why, my father--" He breaks off to take thebill from the Kid's hand and shove it in his pocket. "Rather thanoffend you!" he explains. "No, " he goes on, "this is a more seriousmatter than money. I--" He flicks away the cigarette, jumps up offthe rock and gives us both the up and down. "I am going to take youtwo into my confidence, " he says, "and perhaps you will help me. "

"Go on!" encourages the Kid. "I'm all worked up--shoot it!"

"Well, then, " says Harold, with the air of a guy pleadin' guilty tosave his old father. "In the first place, my name is not J. HaroldCuthbert!"

There was no answer from us, and Harold seemed peeved because we hadnot collapsed at his confession. 

"What is it?" I asks, when the silence begin to hurt the ears. 

"Trout!" pipes Harold, bitterly. "Joe Trout!"

"Yeh?" says the Kid. "Well, what's the matter with that? What did youcan it for?"

"Ha, ha!" hisses Harold, with a "curse you!" giggle. "Where could aman get with a name like _that_?"

"In the aquarium!" yells the Kid. "I knew you'd fall!"

Harold shakes his head and blows himself to another sigh. 

"Imagine a moving picture leading man named Trout!" he goes on. "Ichanged my name as a sacrifice to the movies, for--"

"Just a minute!" I butts in. "On the level now, where _did_ you getyour movin' picture experience?"

"As assistant bookkeeper in a grocery store!" he answers. "Now youhave it!"

"But you said your father was a big man in Wall Street!" I busts out. 

"He is!" answers Harold, lookin' over at the Santa Fe. "They don'tcome any bigger. He's a traffic policeman at the corner of Broadwayand Wall Street and stands six foot four in his socks!"

"Sweet Cookie!" shouts the Kid, and falls off the rock. 

When we recover from that, Harold has smoked the other cigarette, andhe nods for my box. Then he asks us do we want to hear the rest. 

"If you don't tell it, " says the Kid, "you'll never leave here alive!Hurry up, I'm dyin' to hear it!"

"Well, " says the ex-J. Harold Cuthbert, "I am about to be married andat the eleventh hour Nemesis has gripped me. I told my fiancée that Iwas being featured in 'The End of the World' and that it would beexceedingly easy for me to get _her_ a part in the picture--she havingexpressed a desire to that effect at various times. She will be herewithin the hour to watch me being filmed and to hold me to my promiseto place her as leading woman opposite me. " He stops and moans. "Gentlemen, " he goes on, "picture for yourself the contretemps when shefinds I am nothing but a super and that Genaro wouldn't give SarahBernhardt a job on a recommendation from me! My romance will beshattered, and the--the humiliation will kill me!"

There was a heavy silence for a minute, and then the Kid whistles. 

"Well, pal, " he says, "you have certainly balled things up a few, haven't you?"

Joe Trout just let loose another moan. 

"Gimme one of them good cigarettes!" pipes the Kid to me. He lights itand looks over at friend Joe. "The first thing, " he says, puffin'away; "the first thing, is this--just how _much_ do you think of thisdame, all jokes aside?"

Joe turns around and straightens up, for once in his life lookin' likethe real thing. 

"I love her!" he says. That was all--but the way he pulled it was aplenty!

The Kid grunts and tosses away the pill. Then he walks over to Joe andslaps him on the back. 

"Listen!" he says. "You ain't a bad guy at that. I'm gonna give yousomethin' I never took in my life--advice! Why don't you lay off lyin'about yourself, kid? Why don't you can that four-flush thing?"

The effect of them simple words on Joe was remarkable. He swung aroundon us so quick that we both ducked, thinkin' he was comin' back with awallop--but his hands was sunk so deep in his coat pockets they likedto pushed through the linin' and his face was as hard and white as aniceberg. 

"Because!" he shoots out through his teeth. "_Because I can't_!"

Y'know the change was so sudden, I remember lettin' out a littlenervous laugh, and then sidesteppin' a vicious left the Kid sent at me. Scanlan had turned as serious as the other guy. 

"What d'ye mean, you _can't_?" he says, grabbin' Joe by the arm andholdin' him fast. Joe's face showed how hard he was fightin' to keepfrom fallin' apart. 

"You won't understand!" he answers in a hard voice. "But I'll tellyou. The thing has grown upon me until I cannot shake it off! I guessI was born a liar and probably four-flushed my nurse when I was threedays old. When I was a boy, my incessant lying, although it harmed noone but myself, kept me in countless scrapes. As I grew older, thehabit grew stronger and I lost girls, jobs, friends and opportunitieswith breath-taking rapidity. Time after time I have sworn to ridmyself of the thing and speak nothing but the undiluted truth, and thefirst time I open my mouth I find myself unconsciously telling the mostastounding falsehoods about myself with an ease that nauseates me!" Hetore himself loose from the Kid and kicked a innocent tomato can downthe canyon. "I know I'm nothing but a big four-flusher, " he winds up, "and I can't help it!"

Right then and there I warmed up to Joe Trout like I never had before. After all, Miss Vincent had the right dope--he was nothin' but a bigkid at that, and any guy that will come right out in public and admithe's a false alarm, deserves credit!

"Well, " he says after a minute, "I suppose you're both through with menow, eh?"

"Do I look like a quitter?" demands the Kid. 

"I'm still here, ain't I?" I chimes in. 

Joe coughs and took hold of our hands. 

"Thanks!" he mutters. "And now---"

"Listen!" interrupts the Kid. "I got the whole thing doped out. Whenis this dame of yours due to hit Film City?"

"She'll be here on that one o'clock train, " moans Joe. 

"Fine!" says the Kid. "Now get this! De Vronde is supposed to do afall from a horse in 'The End of the World' and the big yellow bumwon't do it. They're lookin' for some guy that will take his place, just for that one flash, see? Now suppose I fix it so you get thatchance and when the dame comes on, there you are playin' the lead asfar as she can see, in the best part of the frolic. How's that?"

I thought Joe was gonna kiss him!

"I'll never forget it!" he hollers. "You have saved my life! What canI do to repay you?"

"Stop four-flushing, " comes back the Kid, "and be on the level!"

"I'll do it, if it kills me!" promises Joe--and I don't know whether hemeant the fall or the other. 

"Can you ride a horse?" the Kid asks him as we start back. 

"Can _I_ ride a horse?" repeats Joe, stoppin' short. "What a question!Why at home I was the champion--"

"Now, now!" butts in the Kid. "There you go again!"

"Pardon me!" says Joe, gettin' red--and he quits!

Well, the Kid fixed it all right, so's Joe could double for De Vrondein that one place where he did the fall. I don't know how he did itany more than I know how Edison come to think of the phonograph, but hedid! All my suspicions as to who the dame was come true when Gladyshops off the one o'clock train that afternoon. I seen her talkin' toEddie Duke near the African Desert, and I immediately went scoutin'around for Joe, because Eddie liked him the same way the brewers isinfatuated with the Anti-Saloon League and I knowed if Eddie got achance to harpoon Joe with Gladys, he'd do that thing. 

About half a hour later, Genaro asks me to go over and find Potts, because they're ready to start shootin' the picture and when I got nearthe hotel I seen a couple of people blockin' the little narrow passagein back of it. They was Gladys O'Hara and Joe Trout and when I gotclose up I heard Joseph talkin'. He was goin' like a house on fire andhis little old lyin' apparatus was hittin' on all cylinders and runnin'smooth without a break. He explains to Gladys that he went on only inthe important part of the picture which she would see in a minute, andthat De Vronde was only one of the cheap help who played the part while_he_ was restin' for the big scene. As soon as that come up--and hesaid the whole picture was built around it--they give De Vronde thegate and in went the darin' Joe. 

He was all dressed up in a Stetson hat, a cute little yellow silkhandkerchief twisted around his manly neck and more chaps than any cowpuncher ever wore on his legs outside of a movie. He looked like whathe'd liked to have been. 

"--and not only that, " he winds up, "but they are going to feature myname on all the advertising for the picture!"

"Is that all?" asks Gladys in a queer little voice. 

Joe looked surprised. I guess it was the first time anybody had askedfor more!

"Well--no!" he starts off again briskly. "Of course, I am--"

"Wait!" says Gladys, grabbin' his arm. "Don't tell me any more lies!They are not featuring you in this or any other picture! You are notthe leading man, you are only a super! Your father is not amillionaire and you cannot get me a job with the Maudlin Moving PictureCompany! You're simply a big four-flusher and that lets you out!"

Say! On the level, I thought Joe was gonna pass away on his feet! IfI was give to faintin', I'd have been stretched out cold, myself. Hegot white and then he got red, then he got white again and red againfor fully a minute. He tried eighteen times by actual count to saysomething but that well known tongue of his had laid down at last andquit! He couldn't even raise a whisper. 

"I knew you were four-flushin' the first time you started to hand methat stuff!" goes on Gladys, sweetly. "I happen to know the folkshere, includin' the leadin' man, De Vronde. He was hangin' around thatshirtwaist counter before you knew whether they made pictures here orsponge cake. Also, some of your friends come over from time to timeand tipped me off about you, so that I was all set when you started!"

Joe whirls around on her at that, and although this bird had beat me tothe wire with Gladys, I felt sorry for him right then. The poor kidwas hangin' on the ropes waitin' for somebody to throw in the sponge. 

"If you knew all that, " he says, kinda choked, "why--why did you let mecome over and continue to--to mislead you?"

Gladys coughs and places three or four stray hairs exactly back of herlittle white ear, gazin' at her wrist watch like it's the first timeshe ever seen one, and she's wonderin' can it really go. The big boobstands there lookin' at her and the chance of a couple of lifetimes isslippin' away. What? Say, listen! I don't know much aboutwomen--fighters is my line--but there was a look on Gladys's face thatI'd seen Genaro work two hours one time to put on Miss Vincent's whenthey was takin' a big picture. So you can figure she wasn'tregisterin' hate!

"Well, why?" demands Joe again. 

"This stuff is all new to me, " says Gladys, with a sigh, "but I guessI've got to do it!" She gazes at the ground and gets kinda red. "Itwas not your conversation that made the hit with me!" she winds upsoftly. 

"I'm afraid I don't understand, " pipes Senseless Joe. 

"Heavens!" remarks Gladys. "There's enough concrete between your neckand your hat to build a bridge over the bay! I can safely say you'rethe first man I ever proposed to, but somebody's got to do it and Iguess I'm the goat!"

"What!" screams Joe, comin' to life at last. "You--you--forgive--you--" The poor simp gets all excited and onceagain he can't talk and--I don't blame him. You never seen Gladys, andyou don't know how she looked right then!

"Say!" says Gladys. "Am I bein' kidded or--"

Joe might have been a tramp as a movie lover, but take it from me, asthe real thing he was no slouch! I hadda stand there and watch it, because I couldn't get past till they got away and if they'd ever seenme, I guess Joe would have bought a gun. Finally, they break, Gladyspushin' Joe away and holdin' him off. 

"You've got to promise me you'll stop lyin' and four-flushin'!" shetells him. "Tell the truth and don't kid yourself that you'd have beenPresident, if you hadn't been jobbed. That stuff is poor and will getyou nowheres. Make good and you won't have to tell anybody aboutit--it'll be in the papers! As far as I can see, the best thing aboutyou right now is ME! If you can't get over with _that_, I'll see thatyou do!"

"We'll get married to-night!" yelps Joe. "There's a minister in FilmCity and--"

"Don't crowd me!" interrupts Gladys, lettin' herself be kissed. "Doyou promise?"

"Anything!" grins Joe. 

"Just what _are_ you supposed to do in this picture?" she asks him. 

"Fall off a horse!" says Joe. 

"Is that all?" asks Gladys. 

Joe nods. 

"Well, " Gladys tells him, "you won't do it! I don't want no crippledbridegroom at my weddin'. Now listen to me! If you could _write_ thatstuff you've been wastin' on the air around here, you ought to make apretty good press agent. Mr. Potts, the man who owns the company andthe fellow you or your father _never_ palled around with, has a man onhis payroll named Struther. He's head of what they call the publicitydepartment, it says so on ten of his cards I have. He once claimedhe'd do anything for me in such a loud voice that the floorwalker hadto speak to him. I'm goin' over to the office now and ask him to giveyou a job back in New York. To be perfectly truthful with you, that'swhat I came over here for to-day in the first place!"

"But--but, " stammers Joe. "I can't have you asking favors for me, Gladys, and--and, why New York?"

"Because, " she says, "that's where I come from, and I want to look atit again--I'm simply crazy to yell down a dumbwaiter and throw aquarter in my own gas meter!"

Well--that's about all. They had a big weddin' right in the middle ofFilm City and everybody sent in and bought 'em a present. Potts got aflash at Gladys, moans regretfully and has the ceremony filmed, givin'the result to Joe as a special gift. Of course Gladys got Joe thatjob. That dame could have got frankfurters and sourkraut in BuckinghamPalace! Before they left for New York, I tried Joe out. 

"It'll be terrible here, when you're gone!" I says, "because you knowmore about makin' movies than Rockefeller does about oil. "

Joe shakes his head and grins. 

"No!" he says. "I guess I don't know much about anything!"

I pronounced him cured to myself and shook his hand. The Kid went tothe train with him and his bride. I didn't feel up to seein' that guygoin' away with Gladys. 

I met the Kid as he was comin' up from the railroad station, and seein'he was laughin', I asked him if the happy pair got off all right. 

"Yeh!" he says. "Everything went fine. Me and Miss Vincent waitedtill the train was pullin' out. Gladys was inside and Joe was standin'on the steps of the Pullman, talkin'. Just before the thing pulledout, I shook Joe's hand and said I hoped he got past in New York, because it was a big burg and a tough one for losers. " The Kid stopsand laughs some more. 

"Well, " I says, "what's the joke?"

"Sweet Papa!" says the Kid, wipin' his eyes. "Joe's face lights all upand that old glitter comes back in his eyes!

"'Make good?' he yells to me. 'Well, I ought to make good--my fatherowns half the town, and I was the biggest thing in it when I left!'"

CHAPTER V. 

"EXIT, LAUGHING"

Every time I see one of them big, fat, dignified guys that looks likethey have laid somebody eight to five they can go through life withoutsmilin' once, I wonder just how much they'd give in American money tobe able to put on a suit of pink pajamas and walk down Fifth Avenuesome crowded afternoon, leadin' a green elephant by a string!

I'll bet they's many a bank president, brigadier-general and what not, that would part with their right eye if they could only forcethemselves to let down for five minutes, can this dignity thing andgive a imitation of what a movie comedian thinks is humor. The bestproof of this is that the first chance any of them birds gets--_that'sjust what they do_!

Y'know, you've seen in the papers lots of times where Archibald VanHesterfeld has been among the starters in the bazaar for the relief ofthe heat prostration victims in Iceland, or words to that effect. Or, if it wasn't Archibald it might have been General Galumpus or CommodoreFedink--or all of them. Away down at the bottom of the page, if it's acopy of the Succotash Crossing _Bugle_, or right up in the headlines, if it's a big town sheet, after readin' what dignity and so forth the"distinguished guests lent to the affair, " you'll see that at midnightthey was large doin's on the dance floor. It is even bein' whisperedaround that the general, commodore or governor fox-trotted with thegirls from the Follies and one-stepped with such of the fair sex ascared practically nothin' for the neighbors. Along about the time themilkman was sayin', "Well, here's another day!", the well knowndistinguished guests was actin' like a guy who knows a Harvard mandoes, after they have beat Yale or vice versa. 

One of them birds acts so dignified at the office all day that not eventhe most darin' of his clerks would _think_ of a joke in the same roomwith him. He'll breeze home on baby's birthday with a trick lion or ajumpin' jack for the kid, and spend three or four hours on thedinin'-room floor makin' it go, while friend infant wishes to Heavenfather would call it a day and commence readin' the papers, so's _he_could toy with it for a while. 

The rest of the family stands around and tells each other that the oldman must have a good heart at that, because look how he goes out of hisway to amuse the baby. Father growls up at 'em and prays that they'llall go to bed, includin' the one that's just learnin' to walk, so's hecan be let alone to really enjoy the thing himself!

We're all babies at heart, and the reason most of us don't admit it andgive in to our childish desires is because we're afraid the people inthe next flat will think we're nutty or have found a way to beatprohibition. Now and then some extry brave guy sneers at the neighborsand lets himself loose, and shortly afterward a committee is appointedto look after his money. Finally, he is shipped f. O. B. To somesanitarium where a passin' nod from the head doctor is listed attwenty-five bucks and where the victim is fed strange foods and tuckedin bed at the devilish hour of nine. 

This is naturally very discouragin' to the rest of us which was aboutto tear loose ourselves, so we sigh, growl at the universe--and lay off!

I feel sorry for the guys that have to have their comedy served up tothem in disguise, like lobster a la Newburg, for instance. These birdsclaim they like stuff you got to study for five minutes before you getit, and then at a given signal you pull a nice lady-like laugh, thewhile remarkin', "How subtle!" You don't want to cackle too loud orthe people across the hall will get the idea that you're a tribe oflowbrows, and it'll get said around that your great-grandfather wasknown to go in hysterics over the funny sheet of the Sunday papers!

They think the vaudeville or movie cut-up that does the funny falls isa vulgar lunatic who ought to be in jail, and their idea of the heightof humor is the way a iceman pronounces décolleté, or somethin' likethat. 

I like my own comedy straight! I want it to wallop me right on thelaugher, so's I can get it the first time and giggle myself sick. I'mextry strong for the loud and common guffaw, and I claim that because Igo into hysterics over the fat-man-on-the-banana-peel stuff, it don'tprove that I'm a heavy drinker, beat my wife and will probably wind upin jail. On general principles I'm infatuated with the bird that canmake me laugh, and I don't care how he does it as long as he makesgood. I care not whether he laughs with me or for me, as long asthey's a snicker in there somewheres. I can even stand him laughin' atme, because, if his stuff is funny enough--I'll laugh too!

No guy who can look around him, no matter how things is breakin' forhim and see somethin' to laugh at as the mob goes by, is beat. Thatbird is just gettin' ready to pull a new punch from somewheres and he'sthe baby you want to watch! The guy that can't see nothin' funny inlife, whether he's eight or eighty, is through!

Me and Kid Scanlan saved one of them guys. His name was Jason Van Ness. 

I was sittin' in Genaro's office one afternoon about seven or eightmonths after me and the Kid had decided to give the movies a boost, when the door opens and in comes a guy which at first glance I figuredmust at least be the governor of the state. He's there with a cane, ahigh hat and the general makeup of a Wall Street broker in a play wherehe won't forgive his son for marryin' the ingenue. Also, he's builtall over like a heavyweight champ, except his face, the same runnin' tothe dignified lines of the bloodhounds, them big, flabby, over-lappin'jaws--get me?

"I say, old chap--are you Mister Genaro?" he pipes. 

"Nope!" I says. "I'm Johnny Green, manager of Kid Scanlan, welterweight champion of the world. "

"Really!" he remarks. 

"Well, " I says, "d'ye wanna see the contract or will we go over to anotary so's I can swear to it?"

At that he frowns and waves a finger at me. 

"Come, my man, " he says, "no chaffing now! You may tell Mister GenaroI have arrived! Of course you know who I am?"

That "my man!" thing was a trifle more than I could take! I throws myfeet up on Genaro's desk and give this guy a long, careless once over, puttin' everything I had on the stare. 

"I ain't got no more idea who you are, " I tells him finally, "than aoyster has of roller-skatin'. Who are you? I never seen _your_ faceon no postage stamps!"

"Oh, I say!" he busts out, registerin' wild indignation. "Don't youever read the newspapers?"

"Sure!" I says. "But then, escapin' convicts don't get much space in'em any more! At that, I think I know you now, though. "

"I should think you jolly well would!" he comes back, calmin' downsome. "Why--"

"Yes!" I goes on. "I got you. I've met so many from your lodge it'sfunny I didn't recognize the high signs right away. You're a big, tinhorn four-flusher!"

Sweet Cookie!

His face did a Georgie Cohan, gettin' red, white and blue by turns, andhe pawed the air, gaspin' for breath like a fat piano mover. Before hecan get set for a comeback, they's a loud crash outside the door, followed by the well known dull thud. In another minute Kid Scanlanwalks in, draggin' somethin' after him by the back of the neck. 

"Look what _I_ found!" chirps the Kid, droppin' the thing on the floor. 

"By Jove!" squeals the big guy. "He's killed my dresser!"

I got up from the chair and took a flash. Sure enough, the thing theKid had dragged in was a human bein'. He was a long, lean guy, lookin'like he'd been over here about long enough to tell the judge thatGeorge Washington discovered America, was president now and stopped theCivil War, and can he please have his first papers, so's he can voteagainst suffrage. 

His one good eye opens and examines the room. Then he hops off thefloor, shoots a hand inside his pocket and yanks it out with a thingthat looked like a undeveloped spear. 

"_Sapristi_!" he remarks loudly--and makes a dive at the Kid. 

The chair I throwed at him was wasted, because Scanlan stepped asideand flattened the assassin with a left hook to the jaw. The big guygives one yell and rushes out of the office. 

"Who's your friend?" I asks the Kid, pointin' to the sleepin' beauty onthe floor. 

The Kid glares down at the body and prods it with his foot. 

"The big stiff!" he says. "I should have murdered him!"

"Well, " I tells him soothin'ly, "it ain't too late yet! What startedthe mêlée?"

He sits on the side of the desk and lights a cigarette. 

"This hick is standin' outside here, " he begins, "when I come along aspeaceful as the Swiss navy. I see right away he's a Eyetalian, and I'manxious to show him I can talk his chatter so--"

"Wait a minute!" I butts in. "Since when have _you_ been able to speakEyetalian?"

"What?" he snorts. "Another one, eh? Ain't Miss Vincent been teachin'me English, French, Eyetalian and what to do with the oyster fork?"

"Is she?" I comes back. "That's all new to me. The last flash I gotyou was just takin' up how to enter a room!"

"Well, I'm past that, " he explains, "and next week I begin on manners. Anyhow, I see this boob standin' there, and I says to myself, here's achance to pull a little Eyetalian. So with that I stands in front ofhim and says, '_Bomb Germo, Senorita--a vostrican salute_!'"

The Kid stops and bangs his fist down on the table. 

"What d'ye think the big hick said?" he asks me. 

I passed. 

"He grins at me, waggles his shoulders and pipes, '_No spika daEngleesh_!"

"'What d'ye mean _English_!' I says. 'That ain't English, that'sEyetalian, Stupid! _Bomb Germo Senorita_!'

"'No spika da Engleesh, ' he pipes again. 

"I grabs him by the shoulder and swing him around. 

"'What part of Italy was you born in?' I inquires. 'Hoboken?'

"'No spika da Engleesh!' he grins. 

"By this time my goat was runnin' around wild. I grabbed his othershoulder and looked him in the eye. 

"'I'll give you one more chance, ' I says; 'cut the comedy now and comethrough or you're gonna have some bad luck. _Bomb Germo Senorita_!'

"'No spika da Engleesh!' he says. 

"With that, havin' took all a human bein' could stand, I let him fall!"

"Just a minute!" I says, as Scanlan starts for the door. "I want toask you a question about the Eyetalian language, as long as you know somuch about it. Just what does _Bomb Germo_ mean?"

The Kid stops and scratches his chin. 

"To tell you the truth, " he admits, "I don't know!"

At that the door opens and in blows Genaro with the big dignified guyand "Bomb Germo" arises from the floor again, rubbin' the back of hishead. 

"What's a mat?" asks Genaro, lookin' very excited from me to the Kid. "Why you knock him down Meester Van Ness bureau?"

"Dresser!" corrects Van Ness, puttin' a round piece of glass over oneeye and glarin' at us. 

"'Scuse a me!" pipes Genaro, makin' a bow. "Why you knock him downMeester Van Ness dresser?"

The Kid growls at "Bomb Germo" who hisses back at him like a snake andbacks out of range of that left. 

"I asked him '_Bomb Germo_, '" explains Scanlan, "and he started to kidme!"

"_Bomb Germo_? _Bomb Germo_?" repeats Genaro. "What is she that _BombGermo_?"

Scanlan grunts at him in disgust. 

"You're a fine Eyetalian, you are!" he snorts. "I'll bet you and thatother guy don't know whether spaghetti is a outfielder or a race horse!"

Van Ness removes the one-cylinder eyeglass for a minute and cleans itwith his "for display only" handkerchief. 

"Maybe, " he remarks. "Maybe the fellow means to say '_Buona Juerno_!'"

"Oh!" grins Genaro. "_Si_! He'sa mean 'Good morning!' No?"

"Yes!" says the Kid. "Correct! Step to the head of the class. I toldthat to Stupid there and he says, 'No spika da Engleesh!'"

"Well, " chirps Genaro, pattin' the Kid on the back, "let's all be thefriend now, no? What's the use hava the fight?" He turns to Van Nessand takes his hand, "Meester Van Ness, " he goes on, "thisa Meester KidScanlan. He'sa tougha nut--but nica fel'. He'sa fighting champion ofthe world. He'sa taka his fista _so_, " he stops and waves his armsaround, "everybody she'sa falla down!" He swings around on the Kid. "Meester Kid Scanlan, " he pants, "thisa Meester Van Ness. He'sa greatabigga actor. Oh, of the A numbera seven!"

"Yeh?" says the Kid, registerin' "I-should-worry!" and gazin' over at"Bomb Germo. " "Well, that ain't my fault, is it? Who's the other guy?"

"Guy?" says Genaro. "Whata guy?"

"The phoney wop!" pipes the Kid, pointin' to the long, thin bird. 

"Oh, heem!" snorts Genaro, snappin' his fingers. "He'sa nobody. Justawhat you call the dresser for the granda Meester Van Ness. "

"He's got a name, ain't he?" asks the Kid. 

"Joosta Tony, " answers Genaro. 

"Good enough!" comes back Scanlan, walking across the room. "Hey, Tony!" he says. "They tell me you claim to be a Eyetalian. "

"That'sa right!" pipes Tony, forgettin' himself and scowlin'. 

"Well, " goes on the Kid. "_Bomb Germo_!"

"No spika da Engleesh!" frowns Tony, waggling his shoulders. 

"You big stiff!" roars the Kid, gettin' red in the face. "You won'tspeak nothin' when I get done toyin' with that odd face of yours!"

He makes a dive for Tony, but Genaro grabs him. 

"Joosta one minoote!" pants Genaro. "It'sa maka me laugh! Ho, ho, Iteenk I getta one, two hysterics! Fighting champion of the world, he'sa getta mad at the dresser!"

"By Jove!" pants Van Ness, givin' the Kid the up and down through thetrick eyeglass. "By Jove! I told Tony to converse with no one whilewe were here. What does this--this person mean by buffeting him about?I thought this company was composed of ladies and gentlemen, notstevedores and longshoremen!"

"Don't get gay, Fatty!" yells the Kid, strugglin' with Genaro. "I putbigger actors than _you_ to sleep. I gotta left hand that's gotmorphine lookin' like a alarm clock!"

"Waita, waita!" shrieks Genaro. "We musta all be the friend. Joostawaita when you and Meester Van Ness get better acquainta you'll bejoosta like--"

"Germany and England!" butts in the Kid, tearin' himself away. "Comeon!" he tells me. "Let's get away from here, " he glares at Van Nessand Tony, "before certain parties makes any more cracks! If theydo--I'll make 'em look like models for The Dyin' Gladiator!"

"Don'ta minda heem!" whispers Genaro to Van Ness, as we get over to thedoor. "He'sa fina fel'. He'sa no hurta the _bambino_--what you callba-bee. Gotta taka bag of the salts with everything he'sa say. Gottalots temperament!"

"A ruffian, _I_ should say!" remarks Van Ness loudly. 

"Bigga bunka!" hisses Tony. 

"What?" roars the Kid, swingin' around on them. 

"Good day, sir!" pipes Van Ness, steppin' back of the desk. 

"No spika da Engleesh!" says Tony, steppin' in back of his boss. 

I yanked the Kid outside before violence was had by all. 

Jason Van Ness stayed at Film City for about two months. Durin' thattime he made as many friends as the ex-Kaiser would pick up in Paris. They was two reasons for this, the first bein' that he was the mostdignified and solemn guy I ever seen in my life. Stories that wouldput a victim of lockjaw in hysterics couldn't coax a snicker from thatundertaker's face of his which would have made a supreme court justicelook like a clown. In fact, if he'd been a judge and I ever come upbefore him, I would have took one flash at that face and asked him togimme life and let it go at that! His favorite smokin'-room story waswhat causes spots on the sun or somethin' equally excitin', and prettysoon they was a standin' offer of a hundred bucks to the first guy thatcould make Van Ness laugh!

Some of the greatest comedians the movies ever seen laid awake nightsand become famous on stunts they pulled off for the sole benefit of VanNess--and all he did was to inquire if they was crazy or soused!

The second reason that Van Ness was as unpopular as snow durin' theworld's series was because he was the greatest actor that ever moanedfor the star's dressin'-room. 

He was brought on to play the lead in one of them early Roman frolicswhere the extry people is called "martyrs" and hurled to the practicallions in the last reel, whilst the emperor raises his hand for theslaughter to begin, murmurin' "This is the end of a perfect day!" WhenJason Van Ness walked to the middle of the arena, throwed one end ofhis cloak over his shoulder, faced the camera and give himself up toactin'--well, you forgot all his bad habits and thanked Heaven forlettin' you live to see him!

That baby was there!

He was stuck up, he had no friends, he wouldn't laugh, and he had atrick name and carried a dresser, but, Sweet Papa!--he was _some_ actor!

The Kid and me stood watchin' him the first time he worked, with oureyes and mouths as open as a mobile crap tourney. 

"Ain't he a bear?" asks Eddie Duke, comin' up. "That's all two-dollarstuff he's pullin' there, bo! Y' don't see actin' like that every day, eh?"

"Oh, I don't know!" says the Kid, takin' a fresh slant at Van Ness. "Ibet I could give him a battle in Shakespeare, at that! I was a riot in'Richard the Third, ' wasn't I?"

"Cease!" sneers Duke. "This bird has got them classics layin' down androllin' over when he snaps his fingers. Did you ever see him in 'QuoVadis'?"

"No!" says the Kid. "But I seen him in tights when they was--"

Just then Miss Vincent comes along. She's in the picture with VanNess, playin' the beautiful Christian martyr which is tied to thelion's back in the fourth reel, because she won't quit chantin' "Now Ilay me--" or somethin' like that. After that they throw her to thepanthers with Abe Mendelowitz, another Christian martyr and the guythat built the scene. She told me that was the story of the thing, andasked me what I thought of it. Personally, I think them martyrs was alot of boobs. If I'd have been there, I would have bent the kneebefore them heathen idols and then done my private prayin' elsewhere. The head martyr might have called me yellah, but no lion would havebroke his fast on me!

While I'm thinkin' about this, Miss Vincent reminds me that she'swaitin' for my verdict on the thing. The last I heard her say wasabout bein' tied to that lion. 

"Well, " I says, "I'll tell you. I think it's pretty soft for the lionsmyself and--"

"How are you and Stupid gettin' along?" butts in the Kid, pointin' toVan Ness and touchin' Miss Vincent's arm. 

She frowns. 

"You mustn't call him Stupid!" she says. "Mister Van Ness is an artistand a gentleman--and--and right now I want to tell you that I think allyou men are wicked for the way you have been treating him! Here he isaway out here, a stranger in a strange land, and simply because he isabove the vulgar horseplay so popular around here, you ostracize him. Because his grammar and dress is perfect he is a pariah! Don't youthink he feels that? Isn't he human the same as the rest of you?Why--why, if he were a woman, all the girls would have helped andencouraged him and made him welcome in any gathering while he was here. Don't you think it hurt when you broke up that poker party last nightwhen he came in? Or when he was deliberately excluded from thathunting trip by that wretched Eddie Duke? Or any of the--the mean, petty, little things you have done to him--all of you--since he's beenhere? Oh, you men are horrid!" She gathers up her skirts and flashesScanlan a look, "I thought _you_, at least, were different!" shewhispers--and trips into the picture!

For about three minutes the Kid stands lookin' after her without sayin'a word. He acts like he has stopped one with his chin!

"The big English stiff!" he busts out finally. "What does he mean bycomin' over here and gettin' me in a jam with my girl? I'll _get_ thatbird, though, believe me!"

"What are you gonna do?" I says. 

"I'm gonna take that solemn-faced simp back of the African Desert andgive him a chance at the welterweight title!" he snorts. "I'll wallopthat bird till he'll wish he had stayed over in dear old England and--"

"Stoppa!" comes a voice from the back of us, and we look around intothe muzzles of two automatics. On the other end of them was Tony!

"I hear everyt'ing!" he snarls, wavin' the guns and glarin' at us. "Ihear everyt'ing!"

The Kid looks at the guns and coughs, kinda nervous. I was glancin' atfriend Tony, myself. 

"Ain't that nice!" I remarks, feelin' my way carefully. 

"What you mean?" snarls the ex-"No spika da Engleesh. "

"Bein' able to hear everything, " I explains, thinkin' to humour him. "I'll bet right now you're listenin' to a little spicy scandal at someKing's palace, eh?"

"Don't got funny!" he warns me. 

"Ha! ha!" snickers the Kid. "Where d'ye get that got funny stuff?"

"What'sa that?" yells Tony, whirlin' on him and shovin' the guns underhis nose. 

The Kid gets pale and shuffles back a few steps. 

"No spika da Engleesh!" he pipes, holdin' up his hand. 

"Pah!" grunts Tony, registerin' disgust. "Me--I laugh at you! All thetima you talk 'bout Meester Van Ness, I standa righta here with the earwide open. You no feexa nobody--maybe Tony he'sa feexa you! I hearyou say you no lika Meester Van Ness because he'sa no laugha. Sure, he'sa laugha--but not all the tima on the streeta like crazee fel'. When Meester Van Ness--ah, he'sa granda man--when he'sa wanna laugha, he'sa go home, to he'sa rooma, shutta the door and standa in thecorner. Then he'sa a laugha ha! ha! ha! ho! ho! ho!--lika that!That'sa lasta heem all day!"

"Oh, Lady!" says the Kid, holdin' his side. "Can you tie that?" Helooks over and sees Van Ness in a clinch with Miss Vincent--and son, you could see the muscles rollin' under his coat sleeves. "Look at thebig, ignorant boob now!" he howls. 

"Ignoranta!" hisses Tony. "Whata you mean, ignoranta? Sevendifference language thisa granda Meester Van Ness he'sa speak! He'sateacha everybody--joosta lika wan college!"

"Why don't you get him to teach you Eyetalian then, Stupid?" sneers theKid. "You're a fine thing to luck your way past Ellis Island when youcan't even tell me what _Bomb Germo_ means!"

"Don't got funny!" warns Tony. "What gooda now for you be fightingchampion for the world, eh? Leetle Tony he'sa standa here calla younames and what can you do, eh? Nothing--joosta nothing! Champion, eh?Ha, ha, ha! Don't maka me laugha, Meester Fightaire!" He shoves thegun in the Kid's face and snarls, "Now!" he says. "Tella Tony youfeela sorry for soaka heem in jaw!"

The Kid bites his lip and edges in a bit. Right away I got sorry forTony!

"I'm sorry!" sneers Scanlan slowly. "Awful sorry--just thinkin' of ithas got me all broke up. I meant to let you have it on the beak, butI'll make up for it now!"

He looks over Tony's shoulder suddenly and yells. "Hey, don't throwthat!"

If they had rehearsed the act, Tony couldn't have fallen for the plantany harder. He twists his neck around to look back like the Kidfigured and Scanlan started one from his left ankle. It caught Tonyright on the button--which in English is the point of the chin--andTony gives a imitation of a seal. He took a dive!

While we're takin' him away from his artillery, I look up and there'sVan Ness lookin' down at us and frownin'. He reaches inside that Romantoga thing he's wearin' and comes out with a round piece of glass whichhe balances on one eye. 

"Ah--I say!" he pipes, glarin' at the Kid. "This is getting jollyannoying, my man. It appears that every time we meet, you have justcommitted a murderous assault upon my dresser! Since you arethe--ah--champion fighter of the universe, why do you not joust withmore of its inhabitants and not center your activities upon one whoknows nothing of the art of self-defense?"

The Kid grunts, takin' away Tony's guns and removin' a couple of themlong banana knives from his clothes. Meanwhile, the daredevil dresseris showin' no more signs of life than a sleepin' alligator, so Ifigured it was about time to pull a little first aid stuff. I turnedhim over on his back and took off his coat, grabbin' it by the bottomand holdin' it up. They was a sudden crash and--Sweet Cookie! A lotof things fell on the ground, among 'em bein' one set of brassknuckles, one blackjack, two more guns, a thing that looked like abayonet, five boxes of cartridges, a small bottle of nitro-glycerineand three sticks of dynamite! The last two fell in the folds of thecoat, or we'd all have gone away from there. Tony's master looks atthe layout with his eyes stickin' so far out of his head you could haveknocked 'em off with a cane. 

Scanlan eyes him and laughs. 

"This is the bird which don't know nothin' about self-defense, eh?" hegrins, pointin' to Tony. "Well, if he'd been in Belgium a few yearsago, I bet the Germans would never have got through!"

"Oh, I say!" gasps Van Ness. "This is a bit of a shock! Why thefellow is a walking arsenal!"

"He's more like a sleepin' fort, now!" I says, pointin' to Tony on theturf. 

"Look at the chances you been takin' havin' a guy like that fasten yourgarters and so forth, " pipes Scanlan. "You ought to thank us forexposin' him!"

Then Tony comes to life and havin' helped him down, the Kid helps himup. 

"_Sapristi_!" remarks Tony, glarin' at him. "You bigga stiffa!Sometime Tony he'sa feexa you for dis! Whata you hitta me with?"

"I think it was a left hook, " the Kid tells him, rubbin' his chin, likehe ain't sure. 

"Aha!" snarls Tony. "I know you never hit with your feest sooch apunch! Don't got funny with me any more! I wanna tella you, you keepaup knock it down Tony every fiva, tena, fifteen minootes and some timeTony he'sa got mad! When Tony he'sa got mad--" He stops and makes aterrible face at me and the Kid, "--when Tony he'sa got mad, somethingshe'sa gotta fall!--dat'sa all!"

"Well, you been doin' all the fallin' so far, " I says, "and--"

"Ah--I say!" butts in Van Ness--and Tony sees him for the first time, Iguess, because he shivered and got pale. "I say, " he goes on, takin' aslant at Tony through the trick eyeglass, "just what does this mean, Antonio? Why are you walking about with this extraordinary collectionof weapons on your person?" He points his finger at the munitions onthe ground, and Tony's eyes follows his. At the same time he makes alittle clickin' noise in his throat and jumps for the pile. 

"Where is she the gooda carbolic acid?" he snarls. "And whosa taka myeleven incha stiletto?"

"How dare you ignore my question!" thunders Van Ness. "What are youdoing with all those weapons? Answer me!"

"'Scuse a me!" says Tony, makin' a bow and takin' off his hat. "Igetta them for my brudda!"

"Where's your brother?" asks the Kid. "In Russia?"

"'Sno use _you_ talka to me!" growls Tony, "I no talka back. SometimeTony he'sa getta mad and then--"

"Come, come!" interrupts Van Ness, kinda sharp. "The weapons--what ofthem?"

"'Scuse a me!" bows Tony with another smile. "My brudda he'sa live inSanta Francisco. He'sa fina fel'--my brudda. He'sa name Joe. He'sacome this countree five years ago, no fren's, no spika da Engleesh, nonothing! They putta heem in the basement of the sheepa wit' couplathousand other fel' from seventy-six other countree. One fel' say myJoe he'sa no be able to leava the sheepa at--at--what you call? Idon't know--I teenk maybe Chicago, Pennsylvania, Coney Island--I don'tknow joosta now! Anyhow thisa fel' say Joe he'sa no be able to leavathe sheepa wherever he'sa wanna go--eef he'sa got no money, you 'stanname? Joe he'sa tank dis kinda fel', say coupla nica prayer for heem andthen everybody she'sa a maka sleepa. Joe he'sa get up and taka fourhundred dollar from thisa nica fel'--whosa sleepa lika he'sa dead--soJoe he'sa be able to leeva the sheepa! He'sa a smarta fel', eh?That'sa Joe. He'sa my brudda!"

"Oh, Lady!" says the Kid. "What was you takin' him the ammunition for?"

"Don't spika to me!" snorts Tony. "I no answera you! I tella MeesterVan Ness. He'sa my boss. He'sa fina fel', too--joosta lika my brudda!"

"How dare you!" splutters Van Ness, his face as red as a ale-hound'snose. "What do you mean by that?"

"'Scuse a me!" says Tony. "Don't get mad for Tony. No spika daEngleesh very gooda--maybe I maka meestake! Joe he'sa writa me comeover Santa Francisco queek, because he'sa gotta the trouble wif he'salandlord. Disa fel' he'sa a wanta da rent maybe, I don't know, but Joehe'sa wanta me bring something so he'sa can feex disa fel' nex' time hecome around, you 'stanna me? He say he'sa a bigga fel'--tougha nut!Yesterday I go out and getta wan gun for Joe. Then I teenk maybe thatain't enough for poor leetle Joe against thisa bigga stiffa landlord, so I stoppa drugga store, hardaware, meata store, five, six, sevenaplace and get somet'ing for Joe he'sa feex landlord. Then I hear thisafel' say he'sa gonna feexa _you_!" Tony swings around and points atthe Kid. "Tony he'sa don't care if thisa bigga stiffa he's a championfor the world. Tony he's a gotta knifa, gun, dynamite, carbolic acida, everything for fighta. I talka to heem sweeta and he'sa knocka me downwit' a hook! While I sleepa on the dirt, somebody she'sa taka my goodacarbolic acida and stiletto I getta for Joe!"

"Oh, Lady!" yells the Kid, slappin' me on the back. "This guy is ariot!"

"You may go to the hotel, Antonio, " says Van Ness, "and await me there. I am surprised and grieved at your beastly conduct!"

Tony hands Van Ness a gun and the bottle of nitro-glycerine. 

"Alla right!" he says. "Tony he'sa go. But watcha this two fel' theywanna feexa you. The little fel' you can shoota--but the bigga stiffawhosa knocka me down, he'sa needa more than that! Taka thisa bottleand throw it at heem harda. That'sa blow heem away so far, it takafour thousand dollar for heem to come back on sheepa, thirda class!"

Van Ness puts the gun and the nitro in Tony's pocket. 

"Begone, sir!" he says. "I'll jolly well attend to you later!"

Tony gathers up his junk and throwin' a last glare at me and the Kid, beats it. 

Van Ness turns to the Kid, stickin' the eyeglass back in the toga. 

"Ah--and now, Scanlan, " he says, "will you be good enough to explainthe cause of the--ah--bitter animosity you have for me?"

The Kid frowns and scratches his head. 

"Somebody has been kiddin' you, " he tells him. "I ain't got _nothin'_for you! Where d'ye get that animosity thing?"

Van Ness sighs so hard it like to blowed our hats off. 

"It is beastly plain to me, " he says, "that I am about as popular inFilm City as a cloudburst at a picnic! I am snubbed, ridiculed, vulgarly and subtly insulted! Also I am white and human and--ah--Imust confess it has penetrated my skin. _You_ are particularly bitteragainst me--why?"

The Kid studies him for a minute. 

"Listen!" he answers finally. "Are you on the level with this? D'yereally wanna know, or are you simply askin' me so's you can pull one ofthem witty remarks on the way I answer you--_and get walloped on thebeak_?"

Van Ness did somethin' then I never seen him do before and only onceafterward. _He grinned_! The Roman toga fell off his shoulders, andhe leans over with his hands on his hips. On the level, his whole faceseemed to change! And then--

Oh, boy!

"Listen, guy!" pipes this big, dignified whatnot. "I'm on the level, all right and I want the lowdown on this thing, d'ye make me?" (Me andthe Kid nearly went dead on our feet listenin'. ) "As for wallopin' meon the beak, well--you may be welterweight champion out here, but ifyou start anything with _me_, I'll remove you from the title, d'ye getthat?"

Woof!

The Kid and me falls back against a rock, fightin' for air!

"Oh, Lady!" whispers the Kid, fannin' himself with his hat. "Did youhear what I did?"

"Call me at seven!" I gasps. 

"Well--?" drawls Van Ness, lookin' us over. 

"They's just one thing I'd like to know, " murmurs the Kid, wipin' hisforehead with my handkerchief in the excitement. "What part of dearold England was _you_ born in?"

Van Ness grins some more. 

"Brooklyn!" he says, jerkin' out the eye glass again and stickin' it onhis eye. "Surely, my man, " he goes on, with that old silly stare ofhis; "surely you have heard of jolly old Brooklyn--what?"

"I know it well!" says the Kid. "It's on the wrong end of the bridge!But where d'ye get the 'my man' thing? And what have you been goin'around like a Swiss duke or somethin', when it turns out you're only aroughneck from Brooklyn? You wanna know why you don't belong, anddon't fit in here, eh? Well, you big hick, where d'ye get that SedateSam stuff?" He slaps Van Ness on the arm. "Why in the Hail Columbiadon't you bust out and giggle now and then, hey?"

"Why don't I?" snarls Van Ness, "Don't you think I'd _like_ to? Don'tyou think I would if I could, you boob?"

"Would if you _could_?" repeats the Kid. "What's the matter--have yougot lockjaw?"

"No!" roars Van Ness, so sudden that we both sidestepped. "No! Notlockjaw, worse! _Dignity_!"

"Have you give the mud baths at Hot Springs a play?" I asks. 

"Stop it!" he sneers. "Cease that small time comedy! I'm the mostdignified person in the world--the undisputed champion! I'm FrowningFrank and Imposing Ike rolled into one. It hurts me more than it doesyou, but I can't help it! I fail to remember the last time I enjoyed ahearty laugh and I know it will be a darned long space before I'llsnicker again. My laugher has gone unused for so long that it'satrophied and won't work. I've tried warming it up by going home atnight and guffawing before the mirror, but the result is only amirthless giggle--a ghostly chortle! Of course, I wouldn't dareattempt to laugh in public!"

"Do what?" asks the Kid. 

"Laugh!" answers Van Ness bitterly. "I can't even let myself think ofdoing it--why, it would ruin me! My dignity is all I have. It's mystock in trade and without it I would lose my income! Were I to unbendand shatter the air with harmless cachinnation, it would be thought atonce that I had been drinking!" He stopped and sighed some more. "Itbegan ten years ago, " he goes on. "I was playing small parts in astock company and one week I was cast for a Roman senator. Beinganxious to make good, I made that noble so dignified that the localcritics dismissed the play with a few paragraphs and gave half a columnto my stately bearing! That started it, and from that time I've playednothing but Romans, kings, governors, cardinals and similar roles, calling for my infernal talent in the one direction. Mechanically Igrew to playing them _on and off_, yet all the time within me burns thedesire to do rough and tumble, yes, by Heaven, slapstick comedy! Butalas, I lack the moral courage to throw off the yoke!"

"Well, Mister Van Ness--" I begins, when the silence begun to hurt, "I--"

"Not Van Ness!" he interrupts. "The name is as false as my manner! Myname is Fink, Eddie Fink, and please don't add the Mister. When a ladI had a nickname, but, alas, I--"

"What was it?" butts in the Kid. 

He hesitates. 

"Well, it was rather frivolous, " he says. "As indeed I was myself--ahappy, carefree youth! The boys called me Foolish--Foolish Fink!" Hethrows out his chest like he just realized how he had been honored atthe time. 

Me and the Kid both had a coughin' fit. 

"Let's go over to Montana Bill's, " I says, when I thought it was safeto look up, "and we'll talk it over. "

"Yeh!" chimes in the Kid. "Over a tray of private stock!" He laughsand slaps alias Van Ness on the shoulder. "Cheer up! Foolish Fink, will you have a little drink? Woof, woof! I'm a poet!"

"Thanks!" says Van Ness. "But I'm on the wagon. I stopped drinkingfive years ago, because under the influence of alcohol I've been knownto act the fool!"

"You ain't the only one!" says the Kid. "Anyhow I never touch itmyself and Johnny here only uses it on his hair! But come on over--youcan have your pants pressed or take a shine, I'm gonna buy, and youmight as well get in on it. Bill's got a laughin' hyena in a cageoutside, and maybe you could get him to rehearse you!"

About a week after that, the society bunch in Frisco comes over to FilmCity to act in a picture for the benefit of the electric fan fund forGreenland, or somethin' like that. About fifty of the futurecorespondents, known to the trade as the younger set, blows over incharge of a dame who had passed her thirty-sixth birth and bust daywhen Napoleon was a big leaguer. She had did well by herself thoughand when dressed for the street, they was harder things to look at thanher. Also, when her last husband died, he left her a bankroll thatwhen marked in figures on paper looked like it was the number ofSoutherners below Washington. A little bit of a guy, which turnedaround when you yelled "G. Herbert Gale" at him, breezed over with herand at first I had him figured as a detective seekin' divorce evidence, because he stuck to that dame like a cheap vaudeville act does to theAmerican flag. He trailed a few paces behind her everywhere she went, callin' her "Mrs. Roberts-Miller" in public and "Helen Dear" when hefigured nobody was listenin'. It was easy to see that he had crashedmadly in love with this charmer, but as far as she was concerned theywas nothin' stirrin'. 

Except that G. Herbert was inclined to be a simp, he wasn't a bad guyat that. He mixed well and bought freely, although he was riveted tothe water wagon himself. He bragged to me in fact that the nearest heever come to alcohol in his life was once when he used it to clean hisdiamonds. 

But G. Herbert was the guy that invented the ancient and honorableorder of village cut-ups. I never asked him what the G stood for inhis name, I guessed it the first day he was in our midst. It meant"Giggle!" This here Herbert person was a laughin' fool! The firsttime I talked with him I thought I was cheatin' myself by only bein'Scanlan's manager. I figured I ought to be in vaudeville knockin' 'emdead for five hundred a week, because G. Herbert roared at everything Isaid. He screamed with mirth at all the old ones and had hystericsover three or four witty remarks I remembered from a show I seen thenight of the Johnstown flood. I thought, of course, it was the way Iput the stuff over, and I was just gonna give the Kid my fare-you-well, when I seen G. Herbert standin' by a practical undertakers shop thatwas fixed up for a fillum. The little simp was standin' over a coffinlaughin' his head off!

That cured me, but him and the Kid become great little pals. I foundout later it was on account of G. Herbert snickerin' at the Kid'scomedy. Scanlan hadn't discovered it was a habit with this guy, and heclaimed here was a feller that knowed humor when he seen it. 

One afternoon I see Scanlan and Miss Vincent whisperin' together likeyeggmen outside a postoffice. They called me over, and the Kid tellsme that the society bunch was gonna leave us flat on the midnighttrain, and before they blowed, Potts was gonna give 'em a dinner anddance. All the movie crowd was to mix with Frisco's four hundred, so'sthat both could enjoy the experience and say they took a chance once intheir lives. 

But the thing that was botherin' Miss Vincent--(Some dame, that! Shewas the world's champion woman, believe me!) The thing that worriedher was G. Herbert and Helen Dear, alias Mrs. Roberts-Miller. Likin''em both, Miss Vincent wanted to hurl 'em together for good and allbefore the train pulled out. 

It seems the only objection the dame had to G. Herbert was the factthat he couldn't keep from laughin'. She had him figured as aeighteen-carat simp and frequently told him so, addin' that she couldnever marry a man who was shy on dignity. Then she gets a flash at ourold pal Jason Van Ness or Eddie Fink, as he claimed, and she fell sohard for him she liked to broke her neck! Here was the only originalSedate Sam! Here was the guy she was willin' and anxious to lead tothe altar and then to the old safe deposit vault! He was so handsome!So dignified! Such a splendid actor! That's the stuff she was alwayshandin' poor little G. Herbert and askin' him why _he_ wasn't likethat? G. Herbert would shake his head, giggle, and say he didn't knowwhy, but he'd ask his parents. 

Van Ness couldn't see Helen Dear with opera glasses. He told me hehated 'em stout, and, if possible, had figured on weddin' somebodywithin ten years of his age--either way. I then felt it my duty toinform him that her bankroll was stouter than she was. He goes intohigh speed on the dignity thing and sets sail for Helen Dear like abloodhound after a nigger. He didn't want to look like a vulgarfortune hunter, he claimed, but he figured if he could get his fingerson a piece of Helen's dough, he could bribe G. Herbert to teach him theart of laughin'. 

The Kid tells Miss Vincent to forget about the thing, and he wouldguarantee that G. Herbert and Helen Dear went away threatenin' to marryeach other. She said she'd leave the matter in our hands and held hersout. I shook it and Scanlan kissed it--a trick he stole from Van Ness. 

The dinner and dance that night was a knockout! Film City is lit uplike a plumber used to be on Saturday night, and the inhabitants isdressed like the people that poses for the ads of any cigarette overfifteen cents a pack. As usual, Miss Vincent had the rest of the dameslookin' like sellin' platers in stake race and, believe me, some ofthem society girls would have worried Venus. The Kid was so swelled upbecause she kept within easy call all night that he forgot his promiseto fix up G. Herbert with Helen Dear. The latter, as we remark at thelaundry, was closer to Van Ness all night than the ocean is to thebeach, and it looked like the Kid was gonna have a tough time breakin''em up. 

Along around eleven, Miss Vincent calls Scanlan aside and reminds himthat he had better start workin' for G. Herbert, because they would allbe beatin' it for the train in a hour. She also give out that, if hedidn't make good, she was off him for life. Scanlan bows--anothertrick he copped from Van Ness--and takes me away down at the end of thelawn to dope somethin' out. 

I tripped over what I thought at first was a dead body and me and theKid props it up in the light. 

"Ha, ha!" it says. "Tony he'sa laugha at you! Tony he'sa laugha ateverybody! _Bomb Germo_! thisa fel' tella me--ha, ha, ha!"

The Kid grunts in disgust, lets go and Tony bounces back on the lawn. 

"Stewed to the scalp!" says Scanlan. "Frisk him!"

I run my hands over Tony and bring forth a bottle of gin and anotherone of bourbon. The Kid looks 'em over, finally stickin' 'em both inhis coat pocket. 

"Come on!" he tells me. "They's no use hangin' around here. If Idon't get back there, some of them Wealthy Willies that have beenwishin' all night will be one-steppin' with Miss Vincent!"

"But how about G. Herbert?" I says. 

"He's got my best wishes!" growls the Kid. "He's a nice little feller, but that's the best I can do. What d'ye think I am--Cupid?"

"Well, gimme the alcohol then!" I says. "You ain't gonna fall off thewagon are you, when--"

"Shut up, Stupid!" he butts in. "I wouldn't take a drink of this stufffor what Rockefeller gets for overtime! I want to get it away fromthat wop, so's he'll have somethin' to moan about when he wakes up. "

We went back to the party, and a couple of dames standin' at the punchbowl calls to the Kid. He always was a riot with the women! HelenDear is there with Van Ness, and he's got to where he's pattin' herhand, while G. Herbert stands in back of 'em lookin' like he wished hehad some nails to bite. 

I come to a table and there's Miss Vincent sittin' alone and shemotions me to sit down with her--so's my back would hide her from therest of the bunch. She says a little bit of society went a long wayswith her, and where was the Kid? Before I can answer her along comesHelen Dear and she plumps down at the table and starts to tell us whata magnificent man Mister Van Ness was. She claims she never seen sucha perfect gentleman in her life. I liked to snickered out loud at thedisappointed way she pulled that one and then the Kid, G. Herbert andVan Ness suddenly comes around a tree and joins the party. 

Scanlan winks at Miss Vincent, and she looks at him inquiringly, but hejust shakes his head. I noticed that G. Herbert looked kinda sad, andhe must have put his giggler away because he just sat lookin' down atthe ground. Van Ness is full of life--I never seen him so cheerful--soI figured that while them and the Kid was alone, Van Ness must havetold 'em that Helen Dear had proposed or accepted him. 

Finally, Helen Dear looks at her wrist watch and says she'll have totear herself away, because the train leaves in fifteen minutes. Shewastes five of that throwin' soulful looks at Van Ness and he give backas good as he got. G. Herbert offers to get her wraps, comin' to lifelong enough to make the request, but Helen Dear gives him a sneerin'look and says there was servants there for that purpose. It was aterrible throwdown, and Van Ness nearly grinned, but G. Herbert gamelytried a giggle that sounded like the squeak of a stepped-on rat. 

While Helen Dear is gettin' into a coat that couldn't have cost anickel under five thousand bucks, the Kid gets up and calls Van Nessand G. Herbert aside. They was gone about five minutes. When theycame back, Helen Dear is just puttin' on her hat and suddenly the thingslips out of her hands and slides down over one eye. 

Then--excuse me a minute, I'm in convulsions! I'll never forget it ifI live to see Bryan vote against prohibition! There's Helen Deargettin' red in the face and strugglin' with that hat and--

"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" shrieks Van Ness--_the guy that had lost hislaugher_!--"Ha, ha, ha, ha!" he yells, holdin' the chair so's he canstand up and pointin' at Helen's hat. "You ought to go in vaudeville!"he hollers. "You'd be a riot with that act! Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha!"

Miss Vincent gasps, the Kid grins, and I all but fainted. Here's thisguy laughin' his head off for the first time in ten years and--look atthe time he picked to do it! Sweet Cookie!

Helen Dear turns eighteen shades of red and fights for her breath likea fish when you drag it over the side of the boat. Then up stepslittle G. Herbert. His eyes is kinda glassy, but his face is set andhard. His spine is as straight as a flag pole and he sticks a piece ofglass over one eye, just like Van Ness used to do! Dignity? Why hecould have took Van Ness when that guy was right--_and give himlessons_!

"What does this mean, sir!" he says, walkin' up to Van Ness who isholdin' his sides and fallin' off the chair. Laugh? That bird was inhysterics!

"Ha, ha, ha!" bellers Van Ness. "Get a couple of good camera menquick! Ha, ha, ha, ha! It looks like she got hit with a pie!"

"You infernal idiot!" roars G. Herbert. "How dare you laugh at thislady?"

"Oh, boy!" answers Van Ness, finally rollin' off his chair. "Ha, ha, ha, ha!"

"Come, Herbert!" pipes Helen. "We will go back together and my answeris Yes! Thank Heaven that man stands exposed in his true character!"

"Thas' right!" nods Herbert, waggin' his head and glarin' at all of us. "C'mon--hic--Cmon, M' dear!"

Somethin' comes staggerin' up and grabs the Kid by the arm. It wasTony. 

"Aha!" he yells. "Who'sa taka my bottle gin, bottle bourbon?_Sapristi_! You bigga stiffa, I--"

The Kid gives him a slow straight arm, and Tony goes over the tablebackwards, landin' right beside his master. 

"No spika da Engleesh!" says Scanlan, as Tony disappears. 

I grabbed him by the arm. 

"Show me them bottles, " I says, gettin' wise in a flash. 

The Kid takes out two _empty_ non-refillables and tosses 'em in thegrass. 

"My!" he says, dreamily. "How that little guy went to it!"

Toot! Toot! Toot! goes the Santa Fe flier pullin' out with G. Herbertand Helen Dear. 

"Ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha, ha--ho, ho, ho, ho!" screams Van Ness fromunder the table. "She promised--ha, ha, ha! to cheer me up--hic--ha, ha, ha! and she--hic--certainly--ha, ha, ha!--made good!"

CHAPTER VI

THE UNHAPPY MEDIUM

They may be such a thing as a ghost, but I don't believe it! At thesame time, I'm willin' to admit that my feelin's in the matter ain'tgonna prove the ruin of the haunted house promoters. They's a wholelot of things which I look on as plain and simple bunk, that theaverage guy studies at college. But the reason I say they _may_ be, isbecause when me and Kid Scanlan come back East this year we stopped offsomewheres in the hurrah for prohibition part of the country and wasshowed over what the advertisin' matter admitted to be the greatestbakery in the world. 

I think them ad writers was modest fellers. That joint was not onlythe world's greatest bakery, it was the world's greatest _anything_!

I never really knowed a thing about bread, except that you put butteron it, until I give that place the up and down. 

What I don't know about the staff of life now would never get youthrough Yale. I might go farther than that and come right out with thefact that I have become a abandoned bread fiend and got to have it or Ifoam at the mouth, since I seen how it was made at this dough foundry. 

A accommodatin' little guy took hold of me and the Kid and showed usall over the different machine shops where this here bread was mixed, baked and what-notted for the trade. Our charmin' guide must have comefrom a family of auctioneers and circus barkers and he never heard ofno sums under ten or eleven thousand in his life. He knowed more aboutfigures than Joe Grady, who once filled in a summer with a Russianballet, and he had been wound up and set to deliver chatter at the rateof three words a second, provided the track was fast and he got off infront. He talked with his whole body, waggin' his head, movin' hisarms and shufflin' his feet. When he got warmed up and goin' good, hepushed forward at you with his hands like he was tryin' to insert hischatter right into you. 

He leads us to a spot about half a mile from where we come in, holds uphis hands to Heaven, coughs, blows his nose and gives a little shiver. 

"Over there!" he bellers, without no warnin'. "Over there is ourmarvelous, mastadon, mixin' shop. We use 284, 651 pounds ofscrupulously sifted and freshly flavored flour, one million cakes ofelegant yeast and 156, 390 pounds of bakin' powder each and every year!We employ 865 magnificent men there and they get munificent money. Wedon't permit the use of drugs, alcoholics, tobacco or unions! The menworks eight easy hours a delightful day, six days a week and they arehappy, hardy and healthy! Promotion is regular, rapid and regardless!Our employees is all loyal, likable and Lithuanians! They own theirown cottages, clothes and chickens, bein' thrifty, temperate and--"

"Tasty!" I yells. I couldn't, keep it in no longer!

"What?" snaps the little guy, kinda sore. 

"Lay off, Stupid!" says the Kid to me, with a openly admirin' glance atthe runt. "Go on with your story, " he nods to him. "Never mindSenseless, here, I'm gettin' every word of it!"

The little hick glares at me and points to a shack on the left. 

"Over there, " he pipes. "Over there is our shippin' plant where thefreshly finished and amazingly appetizin' loaves are carefully countedand accurately assembled! For this painstakin' performance we employ523 more men. None but the skilled, superiorand--and--eh--Scandinavian are allowed in that diligent department, andeach and every day a grand, glorious total of ten thousand lovelyloaves is let loose with nothin' missin' but the consumer's contentedcackle as he eagerly eats! We even garnish each loaf with a generousgob of Gazoopis--our own ingenuous invention--before they finallyflitter forth! Would you like to see the shop?"

"I certainly wish _I_ could sling chatter like that!" answers the Kidwith a sigh. "But I guess it's all in the way a guy was brung up. Gobs of generous Gazoopis!" he mutters, turnin' the words over in hismouth like they was sweet morsels. "Gobs of generous Gazoopis! Oh, boy!"

The little guy throws out his chest and bows with a "I-thank-you" lookall over his face. He got me sore just watchin' him. Y'know that runthated himself!

"Say!" I says to him. "If all that stuff you claim for this rollfoundry is on the level, it must take a lot of dough to run it, eh?"

"Are you tryin' to kid me?" he sneers. 

"No!" I comes back. "But speakin' of bakeries, I'd sacrifice my sacredsilk socks for a flash at them skilled Scandinavians assemblin' thatbread, before I move on to nasty New York!"

The Kid slaps me on the back and grins. 

"Go on, Foolish!" he says. "You got this bird on the ropes!" He turnsto the runt. "All I want, " he goes on, "is one peep at them likableLithuanians--can I git that?"

"You guys is as funny as pneumonia to me!" snorts the little guy, gettin' red in the face. "That stuff may pass for comedy in Yonkers orwherever you hicks blowed in from, but it don't git no laugh outa me!D'ye wanna see this shop or don't you--yes or no?"

"Let's go!" I tells him. "You got me all worked up about it!"

"Same here!" says the Kid. "I only wish I could talk like you can, butI guess it's a gift, ain't it?"

The little guy grunts somethin' and nods for us to fall in behind him, and we lock step along till we come to another joint from which wasissuin' what I'll lay eight to five was all the noise in the world. How they ever gathered it up and got it in the buildin' I don't know, but I do know it was there! If you'd take a bowlin' alley onTurnverein night, a boiler factory workin' on a rush order and thebattle of Gettysburg, wind 'em up and set 'em all off at once, youmight get a faint idea of how the inmates of that buildin' was ruinin'the peace and quiet of the surroundin' country. A dynamite explosionin the next block would have attracted as much attention as a whisperin a steamfittin' shop. 

"I thought the war was all over!" hollers the Kid, holdin' his ears. "Has the police been tipped off about this?"

"What d'ye mean the police?" screams back the runt. "That there is themixin' and bakin' shop. "

"Yeh?" I cuts in. "Well, I don't know what them skilled Scandinaviansof yours is at, but, believe me, they're _tryin'_ all right!"

The runt sneers at us. 

"You must be a fine pair of hicks!" he says. "D'ye mean to say younever heard of the Eureka Mixin' and Bakin' machine?"

"I can hear it now, all right!" I tells him, noddin' to the buildin'where the boilermakers was havin' a field day, "but--"

"Sufferin' salmon, what boobs!" he interrupts me. Then he gives usboth the once over and starts his sneerer workin' again. "Say!" heasks me. "Who d'ye like to win the battle of Santiago and d'ye thinkLincoln will git elected again?"

"I don't know, " I comes back. "I'm gonna vote for Jefferson myself!"I looks him right in the eye. "I think Washington is a sucker to hangaround Valley Forge all winter, don't you?" I asks him. 

"Couple of small time cut-ups, eh?" he says, shakin' his head. "Whered'ye come from?"

"New York, " the Kid tells him, "and listen--will you do me a favor andlet's hear some more about them likable Lithuanians and gobs ofgenerous Gazoopis?"

"I figured you come from some hick burg like New York, " says the runt, ignorin' the Kid's request. "I can spot a guy from New York ten milesaway! He knocks Brooklyn, thinks walkin' up Broadway is seein' life, was born in Memphis and is the only thing that keeps the mail orderhouses in Oshkosh from goin' to the wall! New Yorkers, eh?" he windsup with another insultin' sneer. "I got you!"

"Gobs of generous Gazoopis!" mutters the Kid like he's in a trance. "Sweet Papa!"

The runt looks at him. 

"How does _that_ bird fool the almshouse?" he asks me. 

I bent down so's I could whisper in the side of his little dome. Themskilled Scandinavians in the buildin' had gone crazy or else some ofthe night shift had come in with more boilers and things to hit 'emwith. 

"That's Kid Scanlan, welterweight champion of the world!" I hisses inhis ear. 

"Ha, ha!" laughs the runt. "That's who he'd _like_ to be, you mean!"

"Our employees is all hale, hearty and hilarious!" grins the Kid athim. "We pay 'em off in money, music and mush! Wow!"

"If that big stiff is tryin' to kid me, " begins the runt, gettin' redagain, "he--"

"All right, all right!" I butts in quickly. "Don't let's have noviolence. Show us what makes that shop go, and we'll grab the nextrattler for New York. Y'know the Kid fights Battlin' Edwards on thetwenty-first and--"

"Are you on the _level_ with that stuff?" interrupts the runt, stilllookin' at the Kid. "Is that really Kid Scanlan?"

I calls the Kid over. 

"Kid, " I says, "meet Mister--er--"

"Sapp, " says the runt. "Joe Sapp!" He sticks out his hand. "Iremember you now, " he tells the Kid. "I seen you fight some tramp inFort Wayne last year. I think you hit this guy with everything but thereferee and that's why I like your work. When _I_ send in three bucksfor a place to sit down at a box fight, I expect to see assault andbatter and not the Virginia Reel! Why--"

"Not to give you a short answer, " I butts in, "but how about the insaneasylum over there?" I points to the buildin'. "Do we see that ordon't we?"

Right away he straightens up and sticks his finger at it. 

"It takes exactly twelve, temptin' minutes to completely compose andaccurately assemble a loaf!" he shouts. "We never heard of waste, andefficiency was born in this factory. The only thing that loafs here isthe bread! Each eager employee has his own particular part to performand that accounts for the amazin' and awesome accuracy with which webake the beautiful bread. Step this way!"

"Believe me!" says the Kid, "I wish I had a line of patter like that!'Amazin' and awesome accuracy'!" he repeats. "Do you get that?"

Right then about a dozen dames and their consorts come breezin' in themain entrance. Offhand, they look like the hicks that gives the"Seein' New York" busses a play, and when the runt spots them he ducksand grabs my arm. 

"C'mon!" he says. "Shake it up! If them boobs see me, I'll have toshow 'em all over the plant! That's a gang of them Snooks' Tourists, seein' the world for fourteen eighty-five a-piece, breakfast at hotelon third mornin' out and bus from train included! Most of them iswisenheimers from Succotash Crossin', Mo. ; and they're out to see thatthey don't get cheated. They're gonna see everything like it says onthe ticket, and some of 'em is ready to sue Snooks because they gotsomethin' in their eye from lookin' out the train window and missedeight telegraph poles and a water tank on account of it. The rest ofthem sits around knockin' everything on general principles and claimin'the thing is a fake. Then there'll be one old guy in the party with atrick horn he holds to his ear, and, when I get all through tellin' 'emabout the mixin' shop, the deef guy will say, 'Hey? What was thatabout the airship again?' There will also be three veteranschool-teachers which will want samples of the bread and hide out acouple of rolls on the side. And then one young married couple whichstarted sayin' 'Wonderful!' when the train pulled out of the old hometown and which has said nothin' else but that since! No, sir! I'm offthem tourists--c'mon, sneak around here!"

He boldly walks into the buildin' where all the noise is comin' from, and not wantin' to act yellah before strangers we followed him in. They was a lot of things in there and if you ever make the town, JoeSapp will show 'em to you. He has to, in order to eat. But the onlything I remember was the way them lovely, luxurious loaves wasartistically assembled, and I'll remember that little item till theinsurance company pays off!

They was a great, big machine in the middle of the floor and that wasthe thing that was makin' the bread and noise. A half dozen of themskilled Scandinavians stood away up on a gallery at one end and theirjob was of a pourin' nature. They was all dressed in white and worelittle trick hats on which it said this, "No Human Hands Touch It. " Ididn't know whether it meant the skilled Scandinavians or the beautifulbread. 

"The most marvelous, magnificent, mammoth invention of the age!" bawlsthe runt so's we could hear him over the noise. "Here is where thebeautiful bread is blissfully baked by the wonderful workmen! Thismachine cost the sensational sum of half a million dollars, and itscapacity is a trifle over five hundred finely finished luscious loaveseach and every--"

That's all I heard because I went in a trance from watchin' the thing. I never seen nothin' like it before and I know darn well I never willagain. Listen! Them skilled Scandinavians poured in raw wheat at oneend of this here machine, and it come out the other end, steamin' hotbread! Some machine, eh? Not only that, but when it come out, it wasbaked, labelled, wrapped in oil paper and smellin' most heavenly fromthat generous gob of Gazoopis, as the runt said. 

I dragged the Kid outside and we started for the railroad stationwithout comment. As we passed out the door, we heard the runtscreamin', probably thinkin' we was still there. 

"One section reduces the wheat to flour, another mixes the dough, itpasses on to the steam ovens and then what happens? _Bread_! Overhere--"

The Kid stops all of a sudden, takes a hitch in his belt and looks backat the shop. 

"Hell!" he says. "They _can't_ make no bread like that!"

"You seen 'em do it, didn't you?" I asks him, although I was thinkin'the same thing myself. 

"Even at that, " he comes back, "I don't believe it!"

We walks on a little ways, and the Kid stops again. 

"I certainly wish I could talk like that little runt!" he shoots out. "Take it from me, that bird is there forty ways. He's got Websterlookin' like a dummy!"

He keeps on mutterin' to himself as we breeze up to the station, and, when I lean over to get an earful I hear him sayin', "They're allsimple, sassy and suckers! We feed 'em oranges, oatmeal and olives!"

So, as I said before, they _may_ be such a thing as ghosts. Afterwatchin' that bread bakin' machine at play I'll go further than that. There may be _anything_!

One day at the trainin' camp, a couple of weeks after we hit New York, a handler comes to me and says they's two guys outside that wants tosee the Kid. I hopped out to take a flash at 'em, but the Kid has beenreached, and when I come on the scene he's shakin' hands with 'em. Oneof these guys was dressed the way the public thinks bookmakers and conmen doll up and he wore one of them sweet, trustin' innocent faces likeyou see on the villain in a dime novel. He looked to me like he'dsteal a sunflower seed from a blind parrot. 

But it was the other guy that was the riot to me. 

He was tall and lanky, dressed all in black like the pallbearer theundertaker furnishes, and the saddest-lookin' boob I ever seen in mylife! If he wasn't the original old Kid Kill-Joy, he was the bird thatrehearsed him, believe me! Y'know just from lookin' at this guy, a manwould get to thinkin' about his past life, the time he throwed the babydown the well when but a playful child, how old his parents was gettin'and the time Shorty Ellison run off with the red-headed dame that livedover the butcher's. You wished you had saved your money or somebodyelse's, suddenly findin' out that it was a tough world where a poor mandidn't have a Chinaman's chance, and you wondered if death by drownin'was painful or not. 

That's the way it made you feel when you just looked at this guy. Eversee one of 'em?

He had a trick of sighin'. Not just ordinary heaves, but deep, darkand gloomy sighs that took all the life out of whoever he sighed at. If they had that bird over in Europe, they never would have been nowar, because when he started sighin', nobody would have had enoughambition left to fight. Every time he opened his mouth I thought hewas gonna say, "Merciful Heaven help us all!" or somethin' like that. But he didn't. He just sighed. 

The Kid tells me the riot of color was Honest Dan Leduc, and that hewas the best behaved guy that ever spent a week end in Sing Sing, wherehe had gone every now and then to study jail conditions at the requestof thirteen men, the same bein' a judge and a jury. The sad-lookin'boob was Professor Pietro Parducci, the well known medium. 

"Medium what?" I says, when the Kid pulls that one. 

The Kid frowns at me and turns to his new found friends. 

"Don't mind Foolish here, " he tells 'em, "he's got the idea thateverything is crooked. He thinks the war was a frame-up for themovies, and the Kaiser got double-crossed, but he ain't a bad guy atthat. He knows more about makin' money than a lathe hand at the mint. "He jerks his thumb at Honest Dan and swings around on me. "This guyand me was brung up together, " he explains, "and before I went into thefight game we was as close as ninety-nine and a hundred. He's been allover the world since then, he says so himself, but just now he's upagainst it. It seems he was runnin' a pool room on Twenty-EighthStreet and he give the wrong winner of the Kentucky Derby to theprecinct captain. The next mornin' the captain give every cop in thestation house a axe and Dan's address. His friend here is a now, whosthis and--"

Honest Dan pulls what I bet he thought was a pleasant smile. Itreminded me more of a laughin' hyena. 

"One minute!" he butts in. "My friend, the world-renowed ProfessorParducci, is a medium, a mystic and a swami. He's the seventh son of aseventh son, born with a veil and spent two years in Indiana with theyogi. He can peer into the future or gaze back at the past. He is indirect communication with the spirits of the dear departed and as acrystal gazer and palmist he stands alone!"

"That's a great line of patter, Dan, " says the Kid, "but we met a guyon the trip back that had the English language layin' down and rollin'over when he snapped his fingers. Generous gobs of Gazoopis andlikable, loyal Lithuanians! Can you tie that?"

I was still lookin' over the gloomy guy with the name that sounded likea brand of olive oil, and I decided he was the bunk. I asked him couldhe tell my fortune, and he draws himself up and claims he's not inharmony just now. That was the tip-off to me, and I figures he hascome out to take the Kid for his bankroll. I knowed he couldn't tellno fortunes the minute I seen him. He didn't look to me as if he couldtell his own name, and I bet all the spirits he ever communicated withwas called private stock. The end of his nose was as red as a fouralarm fire and the back of his collar was all wore off from where hehad kept throwin' back his head so's the saloon keepers could meetexpenses. Honest Dan said he couldn't speak much English, so I guesshe had stopped at "I'll have the same" and "Here's a go!"

Well, I had the right dope, because the next week the Kid goes down tothe bank and draws out five thousand bucks to set Honest Dan and theprofessor up in business with. They was gonna open a swellfortune-tellin' joint on Fifth Avenue. I said the thing soundedcrooked to me, and the Kid got sore and told me Honest Dan couldn't donothin' like that, it wasn't in him. He showed me where Dan had alwaysgot time off for good conduct, no matter what jail he was in. 

The professor brightens up for a minute when the Kid hands over theroll, but after that he went right back into the gloom again. 

Honest Dan gives the Kid a receipt for the sucker money and him and histrick medium goes on their way. After a while, I forgot about 'em. The Kid fights Edwards and a couple of more tramps and knocks 'em allkickin' and we're just gonna grab one of them "See America Firsts" forthe coast when some club promoter goes crazy and offers us ten thousandiron men to fight Joe Ryan. The Kid would have fought the Marines forhalf of that, so we run all the way to the club and signed articleswhiles the guy that hung up the purse was still wishin' he had stayedon the wagon. 

The Kid had got Professor Parducci to fix him up with a few love charmsand owls' ears by which he was gonna make himself solid with MissVincent. In fact Scanlan fell so hard for the medium stuff that whenthe professor told him to get at all cost a lock of Miss Vincent's hairclipped at eighteen minutes after eleven on a rainy Sunday night, hewrites out to her and asks her to send him a lock cut just that way!

When he wasn't pesterin' the professor on how to win the movie queen, he was goin' around mutterin', "Loyal, likeable Lithuanians andgenerous gobs of Gazoopis!" until the newspaper guys wrote that KidScanlan would be a mark for the first good boy he fought, because likeeverybody else that was a sudden success, he had took to usin'stimulants which is only sold on a doctor's prescription. On thelevel, he'd git a wad of paper and sit around all night with adictionary, writin' down all the words that begin with the same letterand then he'd git up and repeat that stuff for a hour. 

One afternoon we went downtown to look over this joint run by HonestDan and the professor. It was in one of them studio buildings on FifthAvenue near Twenty-Eighth Street, and the rent they was payin' for itwould have kept the army in rubber heels for six years. They's a longline of autos outside and the inmates was streamin' in and out of theplace like a crowd goin' to see the beloved rector laid out. Some ofthe dames would be familiar to you, if you've been readin' the boxscores in the latest divorce mêlées, or the lineup of the committee forthe aid of the Esquimaux victims of the war. 

We get in a elevator, and, floatin' up to the roof, walk down whatwould have been a fire trap on the East Side, and here we are atProfessor Parducci's Temple of the Inner Star. A couple of West Indianhall boys, who's gag line was "Say-hib, " lets us in. They was dressedin sheets and had towels twisted around their heads and smelledstrongly of gin. Pretty soon Honest Dan comes out and shakes hands allaround. Except for his face, you'd never know it was the same guy. His hair is brushed all the way back like the guys that poses for theunderwear ads and he's dressed in a black suit that fit him better thanmost of his skin. In his shirt front they's a diamond that looked likea young arc light, and he had enough gems on his hands to make J. P. Morgan gnash his teeth. 

He told me that him and the professor wasn't doin' no more businessthan a guy would do in Hades with the ice water concession, and thatBarnum was wrong when he said they was a sucker born every minute. Honest Dan said _his_ figures showed there was about two born every_second_. 

He leads us into a great big hall that was filled with statues, pictures, rugs, sofas, women and fatheads. The furnishings of thisjoint would make Buckingham Palace look like a stable. It must haveruined the Kid's five thousand just to lay in scenery for that one roomalone. The statues and pictures was nearly all devoted to one subject, and that was why should people wear clothes--especially women? Thevictims is all lollin' around on them plush sofas, drinkin' tea andlookin' like a ten-year-old kid at church or a guy waitin' in thedoctor's office to find out if he's got consumption or chilblains. Itwas as quiet as a Sunday in Philadelphia and they was also a verystrong smell of burnin' glue, which Honest Dan said was sacred incensethat always had to be used by the professor before he could work. 

Among the decorations was a very large dame sittin' over in a cornerdressed within a inch of her life. I suppose she had ears, a neck andhands, but you couldn't tell right away whether she had or not, becausethem parts of her anatomy, as the feller says, was buried under acarload of diamonds. You could see by her face that at one time shehad probably been a swell-lookin' dame, but them days was all over. Still, she was makin' a game try at comin' back, and from hercomplexion she must have been kept busy day and night openin' bottlesand cans signed on the outside by Lillian Russell and etc. 

This dame was havin' the best time of anybody in the joint. She wassittin' up very straight and solemn with both chins restin' in herglitterin' hands and from the look in her eyes some Sunday paper hadjust claimed she was the best lookin' woman in America and the like. 

A guy wouldn't have to be no Sherlock Holmes to see that this was thebird that was bein' readied for the big killin' by Honest Dan and histrick professor. The rest of them was just what you might call thechorus. 

Sittin' right beside the stout party was a kid that had just dropped infrom the cover of a magazine. She was the kind of female that couldcome down to breakfast with the mumps and her hair in curl papers, frythe egg on the wrong side and yet make the lucky guy across the tablego out whistlin' and pityin' his unwed friends. You know how themdames look when they have give some time to _dollin' up_, don't you?Well, this one had everything; take it from me, she was a knockout!She's tappin' the floor with a classy little foot and tryin' to see canshe pull a silk handkerchief apart with her bare hands, the whileregisterin' this, "This-medium-thing-is-the-bunk-and-I-wish-I-was-out-of-here!"

I doped her as the stout dame's daughter, hittin' . 1000 on the guess asI found out later. 

"Well, " whispers Honest Dan to the Kid, "what d'ye think of the place?"

"Some joint!" says the Kid. "Listen--I got a new one. The mostmagnificently, male mauler on earth! How's that--poor, eh?"

"What does it mean?" asks Honest Dan. 

"It means _me_, Stupid!" pipes the Kid. "I'm havin' some cards made upwith that on it. The sagacious, sanguine and scandalous Scanlan, welterweight walloper of the world! Where's the professor?"

"Sssh!" whispers Honest Dan. "Lay off that _professor_ gag here. That's small town stuff--he's a mahatma now! He's in one of hissilences, but if you keep quiet I'll take you around and show you howhe works. "

He takes us through a little door that leads into a dark room which wasa steal on the old chamber of horrors at the Eden Musee. It was fullof ghost pictures drawed by artists who had no use for prohibition, andthey was plenty of skulls and stuff like that layin' around where theywould do the most good. At the far end is a small wire gratin' with aMorris chair on the other side of it. Honest Dan explains that that'swhere the come-ons sit while the professor massages their soul. Theynever see him, Dan figurin' in that way it would be harder to pick theprofessor out at police headquarters when the district attorney gotaround to him. We hadn't been there a minute, when the curtain at theother end of the room opens and in blows the stout dame, floppin' downin the chair with a sigh as the professor pulls open the grate to feedher the oil. Dan pulls us back in the dark, and I notice she was soexcited that she shook all over like a ten cent portion of cornstarchor Instant Desserto and her breath was comin' in short little gasps. 

Honest Dan is takin' a inventory of the couple of quarts of diamondsshe wore and figurin' the list price on his shirt cuffs. When he gotthrough, he dug me in the ribs and says it looks like a big winter. 

The professor starts to talk with a strong Ellis Island dialect, tellin' the dame that he's just been in a trance, give the sacredcrystal the once over and took up her case with a few odd ghosts. Theresult was that a spirit which was in the know had just give him a tipthat she was no less than the tenth regular reincarnation of Cleopatra, who did a big time act in one with a guy called Marc Anthony which wasnow doin' a single or had jumped to the movies or somethin' like that. 

The stout dame gets up off the chair and waves her handkerchief. 

"Merciful Heavens!" she remarks loudly. "I knew it!"

Then she pulls a funny fall and faints!

The professor hisses at Dan to get him a cigarette, and the West Indianhall boys drag the stout dame into the chair from which she had slippedfollowin' the professor's sure-fire stuff about Cleopatra. He snatchesa few drags out of the cigarette before the dame comes to and when shedoes, he goes on and says yes she is Cleopatra, they ain't no doubtabout that part of it and she must have noticed the strange power shehad over men all her life, hadn't she? The stout dame sighs and nodsher head. The professor then tells her that she has been in wrong andunhappy all her life, because she had never met her mate. The samebein' a big, husky, red-blooded cave man which would club her senselessand carry her off to his lair. Had she ever met anybody like that?The stout dame says not lately, but when poor Henry and her had firstgot wed he was a Saturday night ale-hound and once or twice he had--butnever mind, she won't speak ill of the dead. The professor says he cansee that nobody of the real big-league calibre has crossed her path asyet and that her husband's spirit had told him in confidence only theother day that one night he got to thinkin' what a poor worm he was tobe married to Cleopatra, and it had been too much for his humble soulwhich bust. 

The dame nods and starts to weep. 

"Poor Hennerey!" she says. "He ain't stopped lyin' yet. I shouldnever have wed him, but how did I know that my fatal beauty would provehis undoing?"

"Ain't that rich?" pipes Honest Dan in my ear. 

The professor has a coughin' spell, and when he calmed himself, he sayshe has just got in touch with Marc Anthony and he's pullin' the wiresto have him come back to earth so's their souls can be welded togetheragain and if she will come back in a week, he'll be able to tell hersome big news. He said it was bein' whispered around among the spiritsthat Marc Anthony was on earth now, eatin' his noble heart out becausehe couldn't find her. 

Then he suddenly shuts the gate, and the dame staggers out, overcomewith joy and the smell of that incense which would have made a gluefactory quit. Honest Dan beats it around and opens the door for her. They wouldn't take a nickel off her then, because they was savin' herfor the big play. 

About a week after our visit to the Temple of the Inner Star, the Kidcomes runnin' up to my room at the hotel one mornin' and busts in thedoor. He's got a newspaper in his hand and he slams it down on the bedand kicks a innocent chair over on its side. 

"I hope they give him eighty years!" he hollers. 

"Who's your friend?" I asks him. 

"Friend!" he screams. "Why, the big psalm-singin' stiff, I'll murderhim!"

"They's just one thing I'd like to know, Kid, " I says. "Who?"

"That cheap, pan-handlin' crook that Dan Leduc wished on me!" he yells. "That rotten snake I kept from dyin' in the gutter, that baby-stealin'rat which claims he's a medium! Professor Bunko--that's who!"

I grabbed up the paper and all over the front page is a picture of MissVincent. Underneath it says this, "Famous Film Star Rumored Engaged to Millionaire. "

"Well, " I says, "what has this here social note got to do with theProfessor?"

"What has a jockey got to do with horse-racin'?" bellers the Kid. "Whythe big hick, I'll go down there and strangle him right out loud beforethem high-brow simps of his! I'll have him pinched and I hope he getslife! I'll--"

He went on like that for half an hour, and when he finally cools off heexplains that the professor had guaranteed to dust off his charmers andcharm Miss Vincent so hard that she wouldn't even give a pleasant smileto nobody but the Kid. All Scanlan had to do was follow theprofessor's dope and they'd be nothin' to it but slippin' the ministerand payin' the railroad people for the honeymoon. The Kid had goneahead and done like the professor said, startin' off with the letterrequestin' a lock of her hair clipped at eleven eighteen on a rainySunday night. Then he telegraphed her to bathe her thumbs in hotoolong tea every Friday at noon and send him the leaves in a redenvelope. He followed that up with a note demandin' a ring that shehad first dipped in the juice of a stewed poppy, and then held in backof her while she said, "Alagazza, gazzopi, gazzami" thirteen times. 

I guess the professor overplayed the thing a bit, because the onlyaction the Kid got was a short note from Miss Vincent in which she saidthat as long as he had started right in to drink the minute he hit NewYork, their friendship was all over. The next thing was that notice inthe paper. 

The Kid's idea was to go right down and wreck the Temple of the InnerStar, windin' up by havin' Honest Dan and his bunk medium pinched. Ishowed him where it would do no good, because he had set 'em up inbusiness and if they was crooked the jury would figure that and put theKid's name on one of them indictments. He calmed off finally and saidhe'd be satisfied to let it go at half killin' 'em both and makin' abum out of the Temple of the Inner Star. 

We got down there in a few minutes, and Honest Dan meets us at thedoor. He's all excited and says the time has come for the big hogkillin', after which they're gonna blow New York, because they beentipped off that the new police commissioner is about to startle thenatives with a raid. The Kid starts to bawl him out, when the bigstout dame is ushered into the room and Dan hustles us into theprofessor's shrine in the rear. 

As soon as she gets inside, the professor tells her to prepare for ashock. She shivers all over, grabbin' the side of the chair and takin'a long whiff out of a little green bottle. Then she says she'll tryand be brave, and to let her have the works. The professor says he hasfinally dug up Marc Anthony, and all the spirits is in there tryin' forthem, so's they can be brought together. He told her to go right backto her rooms at the Fitz-Charlton and he would send out the old thoughtwaves for Marc. Just when he'd get him, he didn't know--it might be aday, a week or a month, but she was to sit there all dolled up toreceive him and wait. He said she would know Marc, because he wouldhave a snake tattooed on the third finger of his right hand in memoryof the way Cleopatra kissed off. That's all he was allowed to give outjust now, he winds up. 

Well, the stout dame thanks him about six hundred times and waddles outdarn near hysterical. She grabs hold of her daughter and hisses in herear, "Oh, Gladys, they've found him! My beloved Marc Anthony is coming toclaim me for his own. Then we will return to Egypt, and, sitting upona golden throne--"

Friend daughter pulls a weary smile and leads Cleopatra to the door. 

"Oh, don't, mother!" she says. "Don't! If you only knew how all thissickens me! This man has hypnotized you! Why don't you listen to meand take that trip to California where--"

"What!" squeals the stout dame. "What? Be away when my Marc comes?How dare you think of such a thing! I did that once and if you haveread your ancient history, you must remember the terrible result!"

Daughter sighs, shakes her head and they go out. 

Now the Kid has been takin' all this stuff in without lettin' a peepout of him and when the stout dame has left, I figured he'd tear rightin to the plotters, so I got ready to hold up my end and reached for achair. But what d'ye think the Kid did? He falls down on a sofa andstarts to laugh! On the level, I bet he snickered out loud for a goodfifteen minutes and then he gets up and walks to the door withoutsayin' a single word to either Dan or the professor, after all thatstuff he pulled on me at the hotel!

While we're goin' down in the elevator, Honest Dan tells us that theygot a handsome actor who just now is playin' in a show called "Standin'on the Corners, Waitin' for a Job, " and they're gonna have him get asnake painted on the third finger of his right hand and shoo him up tothe stout dame the next day. After he has been welcome homed, MarcAnthony is gonna say that he's makin' out a check for the professorwhich throwed them together, and don't she think she ought to send insomethin' also? When she asks what he thinks would be about right, Marc Anthony is gonna say that he guesses she ought to keep the pen shewrote the check with as a souvenir, but that everything else she had, includin' anything a pawnbroker would give a ticket on, would do!

I didn't say nothin' to that, but I was doin' a piece of thinkin' andas soon as we got our feet on Fifth Avenue again, I let go. I told theKid what I thought of his friend Honest Dan in language that BillySunday could have been proud of. When I got through with Dan, I tookup the professor and give him a play. I said it was my belief that acouple of safety-first crooks, who would deliberate trim a simple oldstout dame out of her dough in that coarse manner, should be taken upto the Metropolitan tower and eased off. 

The Kid just grins and starts hummin' under his breath. 

By this time I had worked myself up to such a pitch that my goat waschasin' madly about the streets, and to have the Kid act that way wasabout all I needed. I carefully explained to him just how many kindsof a big, yellah tramp he was, to let the professor crab him with MissVincent and get away with it clean. I showed him where he should haveat least bent a chair over that guy's head, if he was a real gentlemanwhose honor had been trifled with and not a four flushin' false alarm. 

"Gobs of generous Gazoopis!" he snickers at me when I get through. "Our employees is all new, noisy and Norwegians!"

They was a queer look in his eye, and I figured he must have slippedout in the mornin' at that and dug up a place where prohibition hadn'tcarried. I stopped right in the middle of the traffic and told him Iwas goin' up to the Fritz-Charlton the next mornin' and tip the stoutdame off, if it was the last thing I did. 

He just grins!

The next mornin' I beat it up to Cleopatra's hotel, and, after I havewaited an hour, she sends a maid down to see me. The maid tells me tospread my hands out flat on a little table that's standin' there andshe examines every finger like a sure enough mechanic looks over asecond-hand automobile he's gonna buy to hack with. Finally, shethrows my hands down with a disappointed look and her shoulders beginsone of them hula dances. 

"_Viola_!" she remarks. "That leetle snake, he is not there! Madameshe is not at home--away wit' you!"

Well, I figures I did what _I_ could, so I breezed out and leftCleopatra flat. 

Failin' to locate the Kid anywheres, I went on down to the studio andwalk right in on the professor and Honest Dan givin' Marc Anthony adress rehearsal. He was a handsome guy, all right, sickenin'ly so, with one of them soft, mushy faces and wavin' blonde hair. He's hadthe snake tattooed on his finger, like the part called for, and the wayhe carries on about how he's gonna give the stout dame the work makesme foam at the mouth. My once favorably known left had all it could doto keep from bouncin' off his chin! Finally, they start him away andHonest Dan tells me how they got it framed up for him to meetCleopatra. He was to go to the Fritz-Charlton and send up a card thatclaimed he was the editor of "Society Seethings, " and when she comesdown to see him, he was to ask her what was her plans for the winterseason and a lot of bunk like that. In no way was he to make a crackabout bein' Marc Anthony--that would be too raw, but as he was leavin'he was to carelessly let her see that snake on his finger. That wasall!

They knowed Cleopatra would do the rest. 

I couldn't stand no more, so I hustled back to our hotel, and theminute I get in, the clerk tells me the Kid has been chasin' aroundlookin' for me all morning so I beat it right up to our suite. The Kidis doin' his road work by canterin' around the room when I come in, andhe rushes over and grabs me by the arm. 

"When are them yeggmen gonna send Marc Anthony up to Cleopatra?" hedemands, all excited. 

"He just left a few minutes ago!" I tells him. "Why?"

The Kid gives a yell and jumps over to the door leadin' to oursittin'-room, yankin' it open with one jerk. I thought I'd pass awaywhen I got a flash at what was inside. They was about twenty of theroughest lookin' guys I ever seen in my life, all dolled up in newsuits, shoes and hats. Some of them I recognized as ex-heavy-weights, they was a few strikin' longshoremen, a fair sprinklin' of East Sidegunmen and here and there what had passed for a actor in the tanks. 

"Some layout, eh?" pipes the Kid, rubbin' his hands together. "It tookme all mornin' and nearly three hundred bucks to rib them guys up, butthey're all desperate, darin' and dolled up!"

"What the--what's the big idea?" I gasps. 

"Hold up your hands!" roars the Kid at his rough and readys. 

They did--and I got it!

Each and every one of them guys had a snake tattooed on the thirdfinger of his right hand!

The Kid had probably put in the mornin' rehearsin' 'em, because all hehad to say now was, "Go to it!" and they beat it. He told me they wasall goin' up to the Fritz-Charlton and ask for the stout dame at threeminute intervals, show their right hand and claim they was Marc Anthony!

"If that don't show the stout dame that the professor is the bunk andif she don't let out a moan that'll be plainly heard at policeheadquarters, I'll make Dan a present of the five thousand he took mefor!" says the Kid. 

In about a hour the telephone begins to ring and I answers it. Whenthe ravin' maniac on the other end of the wire got to where he couldcontrol the English language, I found out it was no less than HonestDan. The main thing he said was for us to come down to the Temple ofthe Inner Star right away, because him and the professor has got in aterrible jam. We hopped in a taxi and did like he said. Honest Dan iswaitin' in the elevator for us, and he looked like the loser in abattle royal. He says the stout dame has just left, and she's in aterrible state. I could believe that easy, because they is nothin'more vicious in the land of the free than a enraged come-on. I'drather face a nervous wildcat than face a angry boob!

"Somebody put the bee on us!" howls Honest Dan, wringin' his hands. "And a truckload of guys went up to the hotel claimin' they was MarcAnthony in voices that disturbed people in China. They throwed thereal Marc out on his lily white ear, and seven of 'em got pinched fordisorderly conduct. I understand they was a mêlée up there that wouldmake a football game look like chess and the papers is havin' a fieldday with the thing! We got to grab Cleopatra's gems and go away fromhere before the whole plant is uncovered. "

"Why, " I says, "how are you gonna take the stout dame now? She knowsit's a fake, don't she?"

"Fake, hell!" hollers Dan. "_She thinks it's on the level_! The onlything that bothers her is which one is the _right_ Marc Anthony. Shesays two of them had such patrician faces that she thinks some of theCaesars has got mixed up with the lot. She's gonna put it up to herlate husband, and she's comin' back here any minute to talk with hisspirit!" He begins walkin' the floor. "I never seen no dame likethat!" he busts out. "She _wants_ to be trimmed! The only thing sheseemed to be sore about was the fact that she couldn't pick out theright Marc Anthony. Now we git the chance of a lifetime to grab a rollwhen she comes back and we ain't got no ghost! If I could only get theguy that sent all them Marc Anthonys up there, " he winds up with ayell, "I'd make a ghost out of him!"

He never seemed to think the Kid might have done it, because the Kidwas the boy that had set him and the professor up in business and whyshould he crab his own play?

A little electric buzzer makes good while Honest Dan is ravin' away, and Dan, gettin' white, grabs the Kid by the arm and begs him to cometo the rescue. 

"Jump in that cabinet there!" he whispers to him. "And when this dameasks if you're Henry, say yes, and tell her the real Marc Anthony isthe guy with the blonde hair, and he's now at the City Hospital. That's all you got to say and--"

He shoves the Kid back of the cabinet and me back of a curtain just asCleopatra blows in with her daughter. Honest Dan tells them to beseated quick, because the professor has just got the spirit of herhusband where he's ready to talk to the reporters. The West Indianhall boys sneak around in the back, rattlin' chains and bangin' onpans. Then Dan reaches back and opens the mechanical bellows, and ablast of cold air comes into the room while a white light flashes overthe cabinet. 

"Now!" whispers Dan to the stout dame, "speak quick!"

At that minute, Dan looked like a guy with a ticket on a hundred to oneshot, watchin' it breeze into the stretch leadin' by by a city block. 

"Is--is that you Henery?" squeaks Cleopatra in a tremblin' voice. 

They's a rustle in the cabinet and then _this_ comes out over the top. 

"Generous gobs of Gazoopis! Our employees is ready, reckless andRussian. This guy is crooked, crazy and careless. He will take youfor your beautiful, bulgin' bankroll and--"

"Why, Henery!" squawks the dame, jumpin' up off the chair. 

I heard the well known dull thud on the other side of the cabinet, andI guess it was Professor Parducci fallin' senseless on the floor. Ithought Honest Dan had dropped dead from the way he was hung over asofa. 

"Each and every day, " goes on the voice in the cabinet, "each and everyday we ship a million lovely loaves--"

"Merciful Heavens!" yells the dame. "A sign! Henery, shall I go back?"

"Back is right!" says the voice. "These guys is cheap crooks and theyain't no Marc Anthony!"

The lights go out and Honest Dan comes to, rushin' over to the stoutdame with a million alibis tryin' to be first out of his mouth. I beatit around to the back, but the professor has gone somewheres else whilethe goin' was fair to medium. 

"You have deceived me, you wretch!" screams the stout dame. "Youhave--"

That's as far as she got, because right in the middle of it she pulls afaint, and daughter eases her to the floor. The Kid hops out of thecabinet and grabs Honest Dan. 

"Beat it, you rat, " bawls Scanlan, "before I commit mayhem!"

From the way Honest Dan went out of that room, he must have passedSamoa, the first hour!

Daughter reaches up and grabs the Kid's hand. 

"I--I--want to thank you, " she says, "for saving my mother. I--I don'tknow what might have happened, if you hadn't been here!"

"That's all right!" pipes the Kid. "D'ye want us to do anything else?"

"Yes, " she says. "Will you tell me where you heard that--thatdescription of the--the million lovely loaves?"

"Sure, " answers the Kid. "When we was comin' East, we stopped off at ahick burg somewheres and a guy took us over a bakery--"

Daughter claps her hands and laughs. 

"Poetic justice!" she says. "That explains everything. My poor, dearfather founded that bakery, and those were the last advertisements forit he wrote!"

CHAPTER VII

LIFE IS REEL!

The nation is bein' flooded these days with advertisements claimin'that any white man which works for less than forty thousand bucks ayear is a sucker. The best of 'em is wrote by a friend of mine, JoeHiggins, who gets all of twenty bucks every Saturday at six--one-thirtyin July, August and September. 

The ads that Joe tears off deals with inventions. He shows that Edisonprob'ly wouldn't of made a nickel over a million, if he hadn'tdiscovered everything but America, and that Bell, Marconi, Fulton andthat gang, wouldn't of been any better known to-day than ham and eggs, if they hadn't used their brains for purposes of thinkin' and inventedsomethin'. There's fortunes which would make the Vanderbilts andAstors look like public charges, explains Joe, awaitin' the bird whichwill quit playin' Kelly pool some night and invent a new way to do_anything_. 

The ad winds up with the important information that the people whichJoe works for is so close to the patent office gang that they could getFrench fried potatoes copyrighted. For the sum of "write forparticulars, " they'll rush madly from Washington papers that'll protectany idea you got, before some snake-in-the-grass friend plies you withstrawberry sundaes and steals your secret. At the bottom of thisthere's a long list of things sadly needed by a sufferin' public, whichwill willin'ly shower their inventor with medals and money, --thingslike non-playable ukaleles, doctors which can guess what's the matterwith _you_ instead of your bankroll, grape fruit that won't hit backwhile you're eatin' it, non-refillable jails and so forth. All you gotto do is stake yourself to a couple of test tubes, a white apron and alaboratory, hire Edison, Marconi, Maxim and Hennery Ford asassistants--with the U. S. Mint in back of you in case expenses comeup--and you'll wake up some mornin' to find yourself the talk of FallRiver. 

I been lookin' over these ads for a long time, but there's three namesI never seen on the list of famous inventors. They are to wit: the guythat discovered the only absolute cure for rheumatism, the one thatinvented the dope book on the female race and the bird that holds apatent on the complete understandin' of human nature. I guess thereason I never seen _their_ names is because the thing ain't reallybeen decided yet--there seems to be some difference of opinion. But ifyou wanna find out how many guys there are that swear they invented_all_ them things, look up the population of the world. The figures isexactly the same. 

I ain't met nobody yet which didn't admit they had the only correctdope on women, rheumatism and human nature, but I'm still waitin' to beintroduced to the guy which really knows anything at all about _any_ of'em, when it gets right down to the box score!

The nearest I ever come to knowin' the original patentee to two of 'emwas Eddie Duke. Eddie is one of the best men in the movable picturegame, accordin' to everybody but himself. _He_ concedes he's _the_best. He's a little, aggressive guy which would of prob'ly been alightweight champion, for instance, if it hadn't been for his parents. They killed off his chances of makin' _big_ money, by slippin' him amedium dose of education when he was too young to fight back. Eddie'slike a million other guys I know, all Half-way Henrys, you might call'em. Too much brains to dig streets and not enough to own 'em!Unhappy mediums that always calls _somebody_ boss!

We're sittin' in Duke's office one mornin', when without evenknockin'--a remarkable thing for a movie star--in walks Edmund DeVronde. Edmund has caused more salesladies to take their pens in handthan any other actor in the world. His boudoir is hung with picturesof dames from eight to eighty and from Flatbush to Florida. If some of'em was actual reproductions, them dames was foolish for sellin'shirtwaists, believe me! Edmund is as beautiful as five hundred a weekand built like Jack Dempsey. Off the screen he's as rough and ready asa chorus man. 

"Hello, Cutey!" says the Kid, who liked De Vronde and carbolic acid thesame way. 

"I've come to ask a favor, " says De Vronde. 

"Well, " Duke tells him, lightin' a cigarette and lookin' straight atthe end of it, "we ain't gonna pay for no more autographed photos, wewon't fire the press agent, you gotta finish this picture with MissHart and both them camera men that's shootin' this movie is high-classmechanics and stays! Outside of that, I'm open to reason. "

"What I want will cost you nothing, " says De Vronde. "Thatis--practically nothing. My dresser, --the silly idiot!--tendered mehis resignation this morning!"

"Well, what's all this gotta do with me?" he asks De Vronde. "I can'tbe bothered diggin' up valets to see that you got plenty of freshvanilla cold cream every morning and that they's ample talcum powder onthe chiffonier! I got--"

"I have already secured a man, " interrupts De Vronde. "He happens tobe a--a--friend of mine. The poor fellow is desperately in need ofwork. He's in Denver at present, and I'd like to have him on as soonas possible. If we're to begin that big feature on Monday, I'm sure Ican't be bothered thinking about where this shirt and that cravat is, and just what color combinations will be best for my costume in thegypsy cave. "

"That's right!" grins the Kid. "Figure for yourself what would happen, if Cutey forgot his mustache curler, for instance. The whole countrywould be, now, aghast, and he'd be a nervous wreck in five minutes!"

"So if you'll kindly telegraph the fare to this address, " goes on DeVronde, ignorin' the Kid, "I'll be obliged. "

With that he blows. 

"And the tough part of it is, " moans Duke, reachin' for a 'phone, "I'llhave to do just that! It'll cost about sixty bucks to import this birdhere and when he gets here, it's nothin' but another mouth to feed. IfI had half the nerve of that big stiff De Vronde, I'd take a Germanquartette over to London and make 'em sing the 'Wacht Am Rhein' infront of Buckin'ham Palace!"

"He claims this valet's a friend of his, too, " says the Kid. "I'll bethe'll turn out to be another one of them sweet spirits of nitre boys, eh?"

"If he is, " growls Duke, "it won't be two days before he'll be sick andtired of the movie game, you can bet two green certificates on that!"

A week later, me and the Kid is standin' near the entrance to Film Citytalkin' to Miss Vincent, when a young feller blows in through the gatesand walks up to us. He's one of them tall birds, as thin as a dime, and his clothes has been brushed right into the grain. When the lighthit him, I seen they was places where even the grain had quit. Hisshoes is so run over at the heels that they'd of fit nice and snug intoa car track and he'd just gone and shaved himself raw. 

One good look and this bird checked up as a member in good standin' ofone of the oldest lodges in the world. They got a branch in everycity, and they was organized around the time that Adam and Eve quit theGarden of Eden for a steam-heated flat. The name of this order is "TheShabby Genteels. "

But what transfixed the eye and held the attention, as we remark in theworkhouse, was this guy's face. I might say he had the mostinconsistent set of features I ever seen off the screen. He ain't athousand miles from bein' good-looking and his chin is well cut andsquare, like at one time he'd been willin' to hustle for his wants andfight for 'em once he got 'em, but that time ain't _now_! His eyes isthe tip-off. They don't look straight into yours when he talks--theliar's best bet!--or they don't look at the ground, but they stare offover your shoulder into the air, like he's seein' somethin' _you_can't, and it ain't pleasant to look at. 

I've seen that look on beaten fighters, when the winner is settin'himself for the knockout, and I've seen it on the faces of other guys, when some smug-jowled judge has reached into their lives and took tenor twenty years as a deposit on what they'll do with the rest. It's alook you don't forget right away, take it from me!

Well, this feller that's walkin' up to us had that look. If a directorhad yelled "Register despair!" at him, he could of just looked naturaland they'd of thought he was another Mansfield. 

And he's _young_! Get that?

"Pardon me!" he says, takin' off his hat. "Where can I find Mister DeVronde?"

The Kid puts his hand on his arm and swings him around, "You'll pro'bly find him over behind the Street Scene in Venice, " hetells him. "If he ain't there, look around the Sahara Desert forhim--know him when you see him?"

The other guy looks at us for a minute like he thinks he's bein'kidded. Then he pulls a slow, tired grin. 

"I think so, " he says. "Thanks!"

When he walks away, I turns to Miss Vincent. 

"That's prob'ly Cutey De Vronde's new guardeen, " I says. "I guess he--"

"You and the Kaiser is the same kind of guessers!" butts in the Kid. "He guessed we wouldn't scrap! If that guy we was just talkin' to is alady's maid for Cutey, I can sing like Caruso!"

"He doesn't look like a valet, " says Miss Vincent, kinda doubtful. 

"I don't blame him!" says the Kid. "And lemme tell you, he never gotthem muscles from brushin' clothes and buttonin' vests. I felt his armwhen I swung him around that time, and this guy is just about as softas the Rock of Gibraltar!"

"I can't understand, " says Miss Vincent, "how a strong, healthy man canbe a valet--ugh!" she winds up, with a little shiver. 

"That's easy, " sneers the Kid. "A _man_ can't!"

Well, a man _did_! Gimme your ears, as the deaf guy said. 

The next mornin' it turns out that I can guess like a rabbit can run. The new entry on the payroll borrehs a match from me, and durin' thetête-à-tête that folleyed, I find out that his name is John R. Adamsand, as far as the world in general and America in particular isconcerned, it could of been George Q. Mud. Durin' the lifetime oftwenty-nine years he's been on earth, he's tried his hand at everythingfrom bankin' to bartenderin', and so far the only thing he's been asuccess at is bein' a failure. At that he leads the league. And now, to top it all off, he's a valet for a movie hero!

"It's all a matter of luck!" he says, bitterly. "A man who tries thesedays is not an ambitious hustler, but a _pest_ to the powers above him!I defy a man to stand on his own feet and make good without influence. It's not _what_ do you know any more, but _who_ do you know! I've beena bookkeeper, a printer, a salesman, a chauffeur, a bank clerk, and, yes, even a chorus man. At every one of those things I gave the best Ihad in stock to get to the front. Did I get there? Not quite!" hethrows away the cigarette he's hardly had a puff of. "Why?" he asksme. "Because in every trade or profession there's somebody with halfthe sand and ability, who don't know the job's requirements but knowsthe boss's son! I'm not a quitter or I wouldn't be here, but I'm sickand disgusted with this thing called life and--"

"And that's why you never got nowhere!" breaks in a voice behindus--and there's Eddie Duke. Adams flushes up and starts away, butEddie pulls him back. 

"Listen to me, young feller!" he says. "I happened to hear your moanjust now and your dope is all wrong. There ain't no such thing asluck; if there was, a blacksmith is the luckiest guy in the world andoughta make a million a minute, because he's handlin' nothin' buthorseshoes all day long, ain't he? Forget about that luck stuff!Makin' good is all in the way you look at it, anyways. A bricklayermakin' thirty bucks a week, raisin' a family and bringin' home his payevery Saturday night in his pocket instead of on his breath, is makin'good as big as J. P. Morgan is--d'ye get me? Yes, sir, that bird cansay he's got over! Makin' good is like religion, every other guy has adifferent idea of what it means, but there's many a feller swingin' apick that's makin' good just as much as the bird that owns theditch--in his own way! You claim a guy's got to know somebody thesedays to get over, eh? Well, you got that one right, I'll admit it!"

"Of course!" says Adams, brightenin' up. "That's my argument and--"

"That ain't no argument, that's a whine!" sneers Duke, cuttin' him offshort. "Listen to me--you bet you gotta know somebody to getanywheres, _you gotta know yourself_! That's all! Just lay offthinkin' how lucky the other guy is, and give Stephen X. You a minute'sattention. You may be the biggest guy in the world at _somethin'_, ifyou'll only check up on yourself and see what that somethin' is!Remember Whosthis says, 'Full many a rose is born to blush unseen--'Well, don't be one of them desert flowers; come into the city and let'em all watch you blush. Get me? How did you happen to meet this bigstiff De Vronde?"

Adams gets pale for a second and clears his throat. 

"I'm working for him, " he says slowly, like he's thinkin' over eachword before lettin' it go, "and I don't care to discuss him. "

At just that minute, De Vronde, Miss Vincent, the Kid and another damecome rollin' up in Miss Vincent's twelve-cylinder garage-mechanic'sfriend. De Vronde hops out and walks over to us, wavin' his cane andfrownin'. 

"Look here!" he bawls at Adams. "I thought I told you to be at theeast gate with my duster and goggles? You've kept me waiting half anhour, while you're gossiping around! Really, if you're going to startthis way, I shall have to get another man. Look sharp now, no excuses!"

The Kid winks at me, noddin' to Adams who's lookin' at De Vronde with avery peculiar gaze. I couldn't quite get what he's registerin'. MissVincent looks interested and sits up. The other dame opens the door ofthe car and stands on the runnin' board. 

"Here's where the fair Edmund gets his and gets it good!" hisses Dukein my ear, lookin' at Adams. 

"I'm very sorry, " says Adams, suddenly. "I should have remembered. "

And without another word or look, he exits. 

"Yellah!" snorts the Kid. 

"No spine!" sneers Miss Vincent. 

"Nick-looking boy--who is he?" asks the other dame, lookin' after him. 

Duke slaps his hands together all of a sudden and gazes at her like aguy gettin' his first flash at his hour-old son. Then he looks afterAdams, grins and claps his hands again. 

"Who is he?" repeats the dame. 

De Vronde sneers. 

"Really, " he says, "your interest is surprising. That fellow is my--"

"Shut up!" roars Duke, springin' to the runnin'-board. "Here!" he goeson, talkin' fast. "I'm gonna shoot them two interiors in half a hour, so you better call this joy ride off!" He turns to the strange dameand speaks very polite, "Miss Vincent will show you everything; if youwant anything, just 'phone the office. "

When they're gone, Duke turns to me and grins. 

"I often heard you say you made Scanlan welterweight champ, " he says, "by _pickin'_ the guys he was to fight till he got where he could lick'em _all_. Well, I'm gonna do the same thing for our friend MisterJack Adams, valet for Edmund De Vronde, the salesladies' joy. I'mgoin' in that boy's corner from this day on, and, when I get through, he'll be a champ!"

"What?" I says. "Train a guy like that for the ring? Why--"

"I see you don't make me, " he interrupts, "which is just as well, because you'd be liable to ball the whole thing up, if you did. Thiskid Adams has got symptoms of bein' a he-man in his face. He's hit thebumps good and hard and right now he's down, takin' a long count. Nowwhether he needs to be helped or kicked to his feet, I don't know, butI'm the baby that's gonna stand him up!"

"Well, " I tells him, "go to it! But the thing I can't figure, is whatd'you care if he gets over or not--who pays _you_ off on it?"

He looks me over for a minute, registerin' deep thought. 

"I'm gonna give you the works!" he says finally. "And if you evermention a word of this to anybody, they'll have to identify your bodyafterwards by that green vest you got!"

"Rockefeller's three dollars short of havin' enough money to make metell!" I says. 

"Fair enough!" says Duke. "Did you notice that strange dame which waswith Miss Vincent in the car just now?"

"The blonde that would of made Marc Anthony throw away Cleopatra's'phone number?" I asks. "Yeh--I noticed her. Easily that!"

"Well, " he says, "this dame, which was such a knockout to you, is MissDorothy Devine. When her father died last year, she become a orphan. "

"Well, that's tough, " I says. "Me and the Kid will kick in with anyamount in reason and--"

"Halt!" said Eddie. "Her dear old father only left her a pittance offifty thousand a year and two-thirds control of the company we're allworkin' for out here. Now besides bein' several jumps ahead of theaverage dame in looks, Dorothy is a few centuries ahead of the moviesin ideas. She claims we're all wrong, and she's gonna revolutionizethe watch-'em-move photo industry. That's what she's here for now!"

"Well, " I says after a bit, "what d'ye expect _me_ to do--bust outcryin'?"

"Not yet!" he says. "I'll tell you when. Accordin' to Dorothy, allthe pictures we put out are rotten. Our heroes and villains areplucked alive from dime novels and is everything but true to life. Ourheroines belong in fairy tales and oughta be let stay there. _She_claims that no beautiful girl with more money than the U. S. Mint wouldfall for the handsome lumberjack, and that no guy who couldn't donothin' better than punch cows would become boss of the ranch throughlove of the owner's daughter. All that stuff's the bunk, she says. Her dope is that a real man would boost himself to the top, girl or nogirl, and the woman never lived which could put a man over, if hedidn't have the pep himself. As a finish, she tells me that nohealthy, intelligent girl would stand for the typical movie hero. Abird which would go out and ride roughshod over all the villains likethey do in the films would nauseate her, she says, and we have no rightto encourage this bunk by feedin' it to an innocent public!"

"Eddie, " I says, "she ain't a mile off the track, at that! This--"

"Oh, she ain't, eh?" he snarls. "Well that shows that you and herknows as much about human nature as I do about makin' a watch! MissDevine wants us to put on a movie that she committed herself, and, ifwe do, we'll be the laughin' stock of the world and Big Bend. It's goteverything in it but a hero, a heroine, a villain, action and loveinterest. It's about as hot as one of them educational thrillers like'Natives Makin' Panama Hats in Peoria' would be. A couple of thesewould put the company on the blink, and I lose a ten-year contract atample money a year!"

"Well, " I says, "what are you gonna do--quit?"

"Your mind must be as clean as a baby's, " he says, "because you gotyour first time to use it! No, I ain't gonna quit! I'm gonna showMiss Dorothy Devine that as a judge of movin' pictures, she's aswell-lookin' girl. I like these tough games, a guy feels so good allover when he wins 'em. She's startin' with all the cards--money, looksand, what counts more, she's just about the Big Boss here now. All Igot is one good card and that's only a jack--Jack Adams, to beexact--and I'm gonna beat her with him!"

"I'll fall!" I says. "How?"

"Well, " he tells me, "my argument is that all these thrillers we put onare sad, weary and slow compared to some of the things that happen inreal life every day that we never hear about. They's many a telephonegirl, for instance, makin' a man outa a millionaire's no-good son andmany a sure-enough heiress bein' responsible for the first mate on awhaler becomin' her kind and a director in the firm! I claim it does_good_ and not harm, to feed this stuff to a trustin' public by way ofthe screen. Why? Because every shippin'-clerk that's sittin' out infront puts himself in the hero's place and every salesgirl dreams thatshe's the heroine. Without thinkin', they both get to pickin' up thevirtues we pin on our stars, and it can't _help_ but do 'em good! Idon't know who started the shimmy, but I know women and I know humannature, and knowin' 'em both, I'm gonna make a sportin' proposition toMiss Dorothy Devine!"

"What's the bet?" I says. "I may take some of it myself. "

"The bet is this, " he tells me. "Here's this boy Adams, who, bein' DeVronde's valet, is undisputed low man in Film City. He's disgustedwith life, he ain't got the ambition of a sleepin' alligator, or nerveenough to speak harshly to _himself_. All right! If Miss Devine willfollow my orders for a couple of weeks without Adams knowin' who orwhat she is, I claim that bird will make good! All that guy needs is areason for tryin', and she can make herself it!"

"You don't expect a dame like that to make love to a guy that cleans DeVronde's shoes, do you?" I asks him. 

"You must of been a terrible trial to teacher when you went to school!"he snorts. "No!--I don't want her to make love to him. I want toprove to her that the things we put in the movies is happenin' all thetime in real life, only more so! I want her to make Adams _feel_ justhow far back he's gone. I want her to cut him dead, because he's avalet, and let him know that's the reason. Then nature and him will dothe rest, or I'll pay off! Who put Adam over? Eve! All right, I'mgonna wind this thing up and let it go. I'll take the best scenes fromthe last six pictures we put out, and make Adams and Miss Devine play'em out, without either of 'em knowin' it. They oughta be a villain, and I'm shy one just now, but I'll lay six to five that one will turnup!"

"Look here!" I says. "Suppose Miss Devine should fall for this Adamsguy for _real_! Did you ever figure that?"

"Yes!" he snorts. "And suppose the Pacific Ocean is made outa rootbeer!"

I guess Miss Devine must of been a sport, because Duke starts hisstunts off the next day. She promised to give Adams a month to showsigns of life and to do exactly as Duke tells her. Adams ain't to betold a thing about it, and Miss Devine giggles herself sick over howshe's gonna show Duke the difference between real life and the movies. They put up a thousand bucks apiece. 

The first action come off when Miss Devine and Adams meets in the"Sahara Desert" set. 

"Good morning!" pipes Adams, bowin' and raisin' his hat. 

"I beg your pardon!" comes back Miss. Devine, drawin' herself up andpresentin' him with a glance that's colder than a dollar's worth of ice. 

"I--I--said good morning!" stammers Adams, kinda flustered. 

"You have made a mistake, my man!" she says, each word bein' abouttwenty below zero. "A mistake I shall report to your master. I--"

"But--, " begins Adams, gettin' red. "You--"

"That will do!" she cuts him off. "I'm not in the habit of arguingwith servants. You may go!"

Sweet cookie!

The poor kid looks like he'd stopped one with his chin and for thefirst time since I'd seen him, he straightens up with his hard, whiteface fairly quiverin'. I thought he was ready for a peach of acome-back, but he fooled me. He walks off without a word. 

Miss Devine laughs like a kid with a new rattle and snaps her fingersafter him. 

The next day, Duke is directin' a scene in a big thriller they'reputtin' on and Miss Devine is appearin' in it as a super at his orders. She's wearin' enough jewels to free Ireland and she looked better than1912 would look to Germany. Adams is standin' on one side with hisarms full of De Vronde's different changes. 

Duke looks at Miss Devine for a minute and then raises his voice. 

"Say--you!" he bawls at her. "What's the matter, can't you hear? Youmade that exit wrong four times runnin', d'ye think we get this filmfor nothin'? What d'ye mean by comin' here and ruinin' this scene onme, eh? You wanna be a movie star, they tell me--well, you got thesame chance that I have of bein' made Sultan of Turkey! If you canact, I'm King of Shantung! Why--"

Miss Devine gasps and looks more than ever like a rose, by turnin' adeep and becomin' shade of red. Nobody pays any attention to thething. They'd all heard it a million times before, when Duke wasrehearsin' supers. 

Nobody but Adams!

He drops all of De Vronde's clothes right on the floor, and I thoughtthe fair Edmund would faint away dead! Adams walks right through thecamera men up to Duke and swings him around while he's still bawlin'out Miss Devine. 

"That's enough!" he snarls, white to the ears. "One more word to thislady, and I'll knock you down! You hound--you wouldn't dare use thatlanguage to a man!"

Duke's eyes sparkle, but he looks Adams over coolly and sneers. 

"Curse you, Jack Dalton!" he says. "Unhand that woman, or you shallfeel my power, eh?" He sticks his chin close to Adams's face. "Takethe air!" he growls. "Where d'ye get that leadin' man stuff? If I seeyou around here any more this afternoon, I'll fire you and you'll walkhome for all the money you'll draw from this man's firm. Now, beat it!"

Adams hesitates a minute, and then he looks like on second thought he'sscared at what he's done. He mumbles somethin' and walks right outathe picture, nor even turnin' when De Vronde squawks at him for walkin'over his silk duster which he'd throwed on the floor. 

"That's all for now, ladies and gentlemen!" pipes Duke suddenly, turnin' to the bunch. "I'll shoot the rest of this to-morrow. "

They all blow out except Miss Devine. Duke looks at her, rubbin' hishands together and grinnin'. 

"All right!" she smiles back. "First honors! What will I do next?"

She didn't have to do nothin' next! The thing that Duke had startedgot away from him and Adams led all the tricks from then to the finish. Duke told me afterwards he felt like a guy which has lit a match onLower Broadway and seen the Woolworth Buildin' go up in flames!

The very next afternoon, Mister Jack Adams becomes a star. Yes, sir!

A gang of supers is hangin' around the general offices waitin' fortheir pay. De Vronde and Miss Devine is sittin' at a cute little tableunder a tree drinkin' lemonade, and Adams is standin' with the supers, watchin'--Miss Devine. 

"Look at that big stiff tryin' to make the dame!" pipes one of theextrys, a big husky grabbed up off the wharves in Frisco. He points atDe Vronde. "If I was built like he is, I'd eat arsenic!"

Adams walks over to him. 

"Why?" he says, very cool and hard. 

"Heh?" says the super. "Why, look at 'im. Lookit the lace shirt he'swearin' and them pink socks. Why--"

"Shut up!" snarls Adams. "I know your kind--you think because a manbathes, shaves, speaks English and wears clean linen, that there'ssomething wrong with him! You roughnecks resent the--"

"Well, I'd hate to be the family that brung that up!" interrupts thesuper. "Gawd! It makes a man sick to look at 'im!"

It all happened so quick that even Miss Devine and De Vronde didn't getit. They's just a sudden swish--a crack of bone meetin' bone, and thebig super is flat on his ear! The rest of the gang mills around, shoutin' and yellin', and Adams prods the super with the toe of hisshoe. I see Duke runnin' over with a couple of camera men which is soexcited they've even brought their machines along. 

"Listen!" spits out Adams, bendin' over the fallen gladiator. "Don'tmake any more remarks like that about--about Mister De Vronde, whileI'm in this camp! If you do, I'll hammer you to mush! If you don'tbelieve that, get up now and I'll illustrate it!"

The super plays dead, and Adams turns away. 

By this time, Miss Devine and De Vronde, on the outskirts of the mob, has seen some of it. 

"Really, " says De Vronde, frowning "you'll have to stop this brawling, Adams! I can't have my man--"

Adams gives him the up and down. 

"Aw, shut up!" he snarls--and blows. 

Well, right now I'm a million miles up in the air and no moreinterested in the thing than the bartenders was in final returns of theprohibition vote. They's two things I can't figure at all. One of 'emis why Adams should knock a man kickin' for roastin' De Vronde, whodidn't have a friend in the place, and the other is what Duke and themcamera men is doin' there. 

About a week blows by, and then Miss Devine rides out alone one mornin'on a big white stallion. In a hour the horse trots into camp with thesaddle empty. For the next twenty minutes they's more excitement inand about Film City than they was at the burnin' of Rome, but whileDuke is gettin' up searchin' parties, Adams has cranked up MissDevine's roadster and is a speck of dust goin' towards Frisco. 

It was around five o'clock that afternoon, when he comes back and MissDevine is sittin' beside him. Her ankle is all bound up withhandkerchiefs and Adams is drivin' very slow and careful. He stops andthen turns to help her outa the car, but she dodges his arm, steps downall by herself and without any sign of a limp, walks into the generaloffices. 

Adams stands lookin' after her for a minute, kinda stunned. 

"What was the matter?" I asks him, runnin' up. 

"Why, " he says, without lookin' at me; "she broke--she said she brokeher ankle. She--"

Then he turns and runs the car into the garage. 

The next mornin' he quits!

Duke broke the news, comin' over to Miss Devine, while I'm tellin' herhow Kid Scanlan clouted his way up to the title. 

"Well, Miss Devine, " he growls, "I guess you win! Adams has left FilmCity flat on its back. I thought that bird had the stuff in him, but Iguess you saw deeper than I did!"

"I guess I did!" says Miss Devine kinda slow. "I knew he'd never stay. "

Duke clears his throat a coupla times, blows his nose and wipes hisforehead with a silk handkerchief--his only dissipation. 

"And now I got a confession to make, " he says, throwin' back hisshoulders like he's bracin' himself for a punch. "Ever since the day Iplayed you against Adams, I been takin' a movie of you and him. Everytime you was together they was a camera man--and a good one--in theoffin'. You didn't know it and neither did Adams, but the result is apeach of a movie that'll make us a lot of money, if you'll let merelease it. All I need is a couple more close-ups and--"

Miss Devine has been listenin' like she was in a trance. She turnedmore colors than they is in the flag, and, lemme tell you, they allbecome her!

"You--you--made a picture out of our--out of--me?" she gasps. 

Whatever else Eddie Duke is, he's game. 

"Yeh!" he nods. "And wait till you see it--it's great! Why, you gotPickford lookin' like a amateur, and Adams will be a riot with thegirls the minute this movie's released! I wanted to prove to you thatthe movies ain't got a thing on real life, and I did! Why Adams cansign a contract with me any time he wants. That's makin' good, ain'tit? From valet to movie star in five reels--and who put him over?_You_!!!"

Before Miss Devine can say anything, we hear voices behind us. We'restandin' by a high hedge that had been set up for a picture thatmornin', and it was Miss Devine that motioned us to keep quiet. Thevoices on the other side are Adams and De Vronde. 

"I've done my share!" De Vronde is sayin'. "I've been sending home--"

"Eighty dollars a month!" cuts in Adams, in that new, cold voice ofhis. "Eighty dollars a month to your father and mother, and you'remaking a thousand a week. Eighty dollars a month, and you pay ahundred and fifty for a suit! It's hard for me to call you a brotherof mine! Do you know why I whipped that bum the other day? For whathe said about you? No! Because I didn't want it thought that thewhole family was as yellow as you are! But I'm going to make you game. You're going to turn what money you've hoarded over to Dad. "

We're all lookin' at each other--dumb-founded! Even Duke is pale andpop-eyed. 

"By the Eternal, Miss Devine, " he whispers in her ear. "I swear Ididn't know _that_! It don't happen in real life, eh? _Brothers_--bythe dust of Methuselah!"

De Vronde is speakin', and we bend to listen. 

"I can't!" he chokes out. "Why, I'll--"

We hear Adams snort. 

"Stop!" he says. "You can make more money than I can and make Ma andDad comfortable for the rest of their days. I'm going--"

"About that girl--that Miss Devine, " De Vronde breaks in, his voiceshaking "It's only right that you should know. She's made an ass ofyou--she and that Duke person! You've been followed about andeverything you've done has been recorded by a camera. She had noaccident the other day--her ankle wasn't hurt--the horse was sent backwith the empty saddle deliberately--they photographed that, too! Theyhad a silly bet of some sort and--"

Miss Devine steps deliberately right around the side of the hedgealmost into Adams's arms. He's white and lookin' much like he did thefirst day he blowed into Film City. The minute he sees her hestraightens up. 

"How long have you been here?" he clips out. 

"I've heard--everything!" she says, lookin' him right in the eye. 

Adams runs his hand through his hair, and pulls a look that wentthrough me to the bone. I don't know how it hit Miss Devine. 

"And all of this--this--your attitude toward me--the accident--wasplayed to make a picture?" he says. 

"Yes!" says Miss Devine. "All except _this_!" And I hope I never seeanother movie, if both her arms didn't go around his neck--right outloud in public, too! "All except _this_!" she repeats. "And, oh, Jack--this is _real_!!"

"I win a thousand bucks!" pants Duke, draggin' me away--De Vronde blewthe minute she appeared on the scene--"I win a thousand bucks!" hesays. "And the picture is gonna be a riot! If they was only a goodcamera man here now for that close up at the finish, eh? Still--Iguess that would be too raw!" He looks back where Adams and MissDevine is posin' for a picture of still life. "And she said this lovestuff was the bunk!" he hollers. "Oh, boy!!!!"

CHAPTER VIII

HOSPITAL STUFF

Every time I see a thermometer, a watch, and a egg my temperatureaviates to about a hundred and ninety-eight in the shade--and if they'snobody lookin' I bust 'em! I spent two months and eight hundred buckswith that layout once and, oh, lady!--Say! The next time I feel avacation comin' on, I'm goin' to Russia and holler, "Hooray for theCzar!"

I just been Red-Crossed to within a inch of my life and I'm off that"take-two-once-every-twice, and don't-eat-any-this-or-drink-any-that"stuff! The right cross and the double cross has been little pals ofmine for years, and I once got throwed out of school for pullin' that"How to make a maltese cross" thing, but the _red_ one was all new tome up to last month. 

They call me a glutton for punishment, but I got--enough!

I can't go in a drug store no more, because the sight of theprescription bar in the rear affects me like strong drink and I evenhad to lay off peas, because they look like pills. 

All the food I got durin' the time I become a victim of the Red Crosscould have been carried over the Rocky Mountains by a lame ant, and Igot a hole in my wrist that can be used as a ash tray from doctorsgrabbin' it to give my pulse early mornin' workouts and clockin' itover the full course. I was allowed two kinds of milk to drink--hotand cold. The only thing I could get to read was wrote to order on thepremises and was all on the same subject, "Shake well before using!"

The whole thing was brought on by two words and Genaro, which wasputtin' on this five-reel barbecue called "How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle, " and take it from me, if the Kid had pulled off in Manhattansome of the stunts he did in that picture, he would have won more thanthe welterweight title--he'd have won the oil business from Rockefellerthe first night!

The two words was "Don't jump!" and Genaro _didn't_ say 'em--if he had, the Kid would never have dove off a cliff and sprained hismillion-dollar left arm, which triflin' detail caused _me_ to get mymail at a hospital for two months. 

It was in the third reel of this picture, which I see by the billboardsis liable to thrill the nation, that the thing happened. The Kid issupposed to jump off a cliff to fool the plotters which is tryin' tostop him from winnin' the title. They had picked out two of themcliffs--one of 'em was a drop of three feet and the other was a drop oftwenty-one miles, accordin' to Scanlan, who made it and ought to know. Anyhow, it was far enough! They was gonna show a close-up of the highone first and then take a flash of Scanlan leapin' from the little one. The Kid walks to the edge of that high one, looks down and somefat-head camera man points a machine at him and starts turnin' thecrank. Genaro was to wave his handkerchief as a signal for the Kid todive off the _little_ cliff and Scanlan, kinda puzzled, watches him. Just as he's walkin' away from the edge, Genaro blows his nose! TheKid sees the camera man and the handkerchief, and not wantin' to actyellah before the bunch, he--jumps!

A lot of excitement was had by all and Scanlan sprained his arm. 

"Ah!" yells Genaro. "She'sa make the greata scene! What you thinkthisa Meester Scanlan he'sa joomp off wan mountain for art? That'sareal arteeste! He'sa killa himself for maka picture for Genaro! Ah--Iembrace heem!"

Miss Vincent begins by faintin'. Then she comes to, throws a rock at acamera man which is takin' a close up of her unconscious, kneels at theKid's side and kisses him right out loud before everybody. She claims, if he proves to be dead, she'll leave the company flat and have Genarotried for murder before a judge which had been tryin' for two years todo somethin' for her. They finally carried the Kid up to the hotel, and sent for a doctor which was recommended by Eddie Duke. Accordin'to Eddie, this friend of his had the average doctor lookin' like a drugclerk. Pluckin' people from the grave was his specialty, says Eddie. 

I guess they had to wait till this graverobber graduated from college, because it was over a hour before he showed up. He gets out of a buggythat was all the rage about the time Washington was thinkin' of goin'in the army, and the animal that was draggin' it along had been a totalfailure at tryin' to be a horse. The doc wasn't a day overseventy-five and he was dressed in a hat that must have come with thebuggy, a pair of shoes like grandpa used to wear to work and a set ofwhite whiskers. If he had any clothes on, I didn't see 'em. All Iseen was them whiskers! I figured, if he had plucked people from thegrave, like Eddie Duke claimed, he must have did it after they was dead. 

He didn't look very encouragin' to me, but I led him upstairs and intothe room where Scanlan was just comin' to and askin' what round it was. Eddie Duke and Miss Vincent was at his bedside, and the rest of thegang was outside the door arguyin' over which was the best undertakerin Frisco. I slipped away to a telephone booth and called upinformation. 

"Gimme the best doctor in California!" I says, flickin' a jitney in theslot. 

"For a nickel?" giggles the dame on the other end. 

"Stop it!" I says. "I got a man here that's liable to croak anyminute--this ain't no time for comedy! Ah--what time do you get off?"

"I never go out with strangers, " she says, "but you got a nice voice atthat. Where is your friend doin' his sufferin' at?"

"Film City!" I tells her. "And my voice ain't got nothin' on yours. Idon't want to give you no short answer, but can I get the doctor now?"

"I got him waitin', " she says. "If I was you, I wouldn't let 'em fillyour friend full of dope; fresh air and sunshine's got the druggistbeat eighty ways! Good-by, Cutey--gimme a ring after the funeral!"

"This is the Hillcrest Sanitarium, " pipes another voice over the wire, very sedate and dignified. 

"And this is Johnny Green, " I comes back, "manager of Kid Scanlan, thewelterweight champ. We've throwed you people a lot of trade. Only ashort while ago Scanlan flattened Young Hogan in two rounds, and Hoganwas took there from the ring, remember? Well, I want the boss doctorthere sent to Film City right away!"

With that begins a argument that went about fifteen minutes, and whichI finally win by a shade. It seems it wasn't the regular thing for thehead doctor there to answer night bells and so forth, like a ordinarymedico, and the goin' was rather tough for awhile. Three or fourtimes, when I was ready to quit, this telephone dame, which was takin'it all in with both ears, cut in with advice and helpful hints till theguy on the other end had enough and says he'll come. 

The first thing that met my eye, when I got back to the Kid, was EddieDuke's friend, the greatest doctor in the world. He was walkin' veryfast away from the hotel and mutterin' to himself. I just had time tograb his arm, as he jumps in the buggy and reaches for the whip. 

"Will he live, doc?" I asks him. 

"Bah!" he snorts, jerkin' away from me. "The ignorant little pup!"

He whales Old Dobbin with the whip and leaves me flat. 

I couldn't figure out what the Kid's education had to do with hishealth, so I beats it upstairs and all but fell over Eddie Duke. He'sholdin' one eye and mumblin' somethin' about "roughnecks" and"ingratitude. " I kept on through the crowd and into the Kid's room. Scanlan is still on the bed groanin', and beside him is the hotelclerk, thumbin' a almanac. 

"Wait!" pants the clerk, as I come in. "I'll have it in a second. " Heturns over a lot more pages and then he hollers, "Ah! Here weare--what did I tell you? 'First Aid to the Injured. '" He clears histhroat and the Kid looks up hopefully. "Number one, " reads the clerk. "_'First send for a physician!'_" He drops the book and dashes for thedoor. "Don't do nothing till I get back!" he yells. 

Scanlan starts to go after him, but moans and falls back on the bed. 

"I wish I had a gun!" he snarls. "That big boob has been here fifteenminutes tellin' me all he was gonna do for me as soon as he found it inthe book! He--"

"Didn't the doctor do no good?" I butts in, sittin' on the side of thebed. 

"Doctor?" says the Kid. "What doctor?"

"Eddie Duke's friend, " I tells him. "The old--"

Scanlan leans up on his good arm. 

"Listen, Johnny!" he says. "I still got a wallop in my right! Don'tkid me now or--"

"What d'ye mean kid you?" I asks him. "Didn't the doctor--"

"Doctor!" he interrupts me, slammin' down the pillow. "If that guy wasa doctor, I'm Caruso! He comes in here where I'm practically dyin' andtries to sell me a book!"

"Gimme it all!" I gasps. 

"He sits down at the bed, " explains the Kid, "and takes a big, blackbook out of what I figured was his medicine chest. He holds it up andasks me if I see it and I says I did, thinkin' I had passed the firsttest easy. Then he says he wrote the book himself and it's full ofhope and cheer or dope and beer--to tell you the truth, I don't knowwhich it was on account of the pain. Anyhow, I let him get away withit, and he tells me to think of how lucky I actually am alongside ofthe Crown's Prince of Germany--and then he begins to read from thatbook! It seems it's a novel about faith bein' stronger than pain. Bythis time, I seen that he was either nutty or tryin' to kid me, so Icut him off by askin' him when he's gonna fix up my arm. He says he'sdoin' it now, and when he gets through, he'll leave the book which willbe a total of twenty-five bucks. When I come to, I ask him how long hehad been a doctor, and he gets sore and claims he's a healer of theMystic Sliders or somethin' like that, and what do I mean by callin'him a doctor? Then I called him a few other things so's he wouldn'thave no kick comin' and gave him the bum's rush out of the room. EddieDuke starts to moan about me maulin' his friend, and--well, get him toshow you his eye!"

The door opens suddenly and Miss Vincent sticks the curls which all theshop girls is copyin' around the side of it. 

"It's the doctor!" she whispers. 

"Say!" pipes the Kid, grabbin' a pillow. "That old guy is game, eh?"

"A fightin' fool!" I agrees. 

But this time a tall, solemn-lookin' guy breezes into the room andstares at me and the Kid with the same warm friendliness that amotorcycle cop regards a boob tryin' out a new auto. I figured he wasthe bird I had ordered by 'phone, and hit 1000 on the guess. He leansover the Kid, prods him around a bit, and then goes over him like hehad lost somethin' and thought maybe he'd find it there. Then hestraightens up and grunts. 

"Hmph!" he says. "This man is a nervous wreck! Completely rundown--needs rest and diet. I have my car outside and can take him overto the sanitarium, if--are you a relative?"

"His manager, " I explains. "How about the arm, doc?"

"Nothing!" he says. "Wrenched--that's all. Come--help him downstairs, I'll wait. "

I took out a five-case note. 

"What do we owe you, doc?" I asks him, hopin' for the best. 

"My consultation fee is fifty dollars!" he says, without battin' an eye. 

I staggered back against the bureau. 

"Every time you see me it's gonna set me back fifty?" asks the Kid, with tears in his voice. 

The doc gives him a cold nod. 

"Couldn't I take some treatment by mail?" pipes Scanlan, hopefully. 

"Cease!" I says, takin' out the old checkbook. "What's your name, doc?"

"James, " he says, "J. T. James. "

"What's the J stand for?" I asks, shakin' out the pen. 

"Jesse!" butts in Scanlan. "Heh, doc?"

"Do you mean to insinuate that I'm robbing you?" says the doc, frownin'at him. 

"No, " says the Kid, takin' the check from me and handin' it to him, "Idon't blame a guy for tryin', but--"

I shut him off and dragged him downstairs before they was any hardfeelin's. We climbed in the doctor's bus and at the Kid's request, Miss Vincent come along with us. Then we went after the road recordbetween Film City and the Hillcrest Sanitarium. I guess this doctorwas born with a steerin' wheel in his hand, because we took somecorners on that trip that would have worried a snake, and when he threwher in high, we breezed along so swift we could have made a bulletquit. Finally, we come to a great big buildin' all hedged off with aniron fence and if you've ever seen a souvenir post card with "Havin' afine time. Wish you were here, " on it, you know what it looked like. 

The doctor tells me and Miss Vincent to wait in the office, and he goesout with the Kid. In about fifteen minutes he's back and calls me overto a desk. They's a long piece of paper there and he says to sit downand fill it out, but, after one flash at it, I asked him could I takeit home to work over, because my fountain pen was better on sprintsthan long distance writin' and this looked like a good two-hour job. He gives me another one of them North Pole stares and remarks that ifthe thing ain't filled out at once, the Kid won't be admitted to thesanitarium. 

"He's in now, ain't he?" I comes back. 

"Yes!" he snaps. "And he'll be out, if that paper isn't drawn upinstantly!"

Miss Vincent giggles and hisses in my ear. 

"They say the child is in London!" she pipes. "Sign that paper, curseyou! We are in his power!"

Well, I seen I had to do a piece of writing so I grabbed up that paperand let the fountain pen go crazy. I give the Kid's entire name, wherehe was born, what his people did to fool the almshouse, what was hismother's maiden name and why, whether he went to church or BillySunday, was he white and could he prove it, who started the war and alot of bunk like that. The guy who doped out the entrance examinationsfor that hospital must have been figurin' on how many he could keep_out_. When I run out of ink, I took out a copy of the _Sportin'Annual_, tore off the Kid's record and pasted it at the bottom of thepage. 

"How's that?" I asks, passin' it over. 

"Very well, " he says, glancin' at it. "Mister Scanlan is in room 45. That will be one-fifty--a hundred and fifty!"

"The price, " I says, gettin' dizzy. "Not your weight!"

"That's the price, " he tells me. "A hundred and fifty a week. "

"I'm afraid the old bankroll is _too_ weak, " I says, --"too weak forthat, anyhow. Drag the Kid out of that bridal suite and let him sleepin the hall. I'll--"

"Why, the idea!" butts in Miss Vincent. "You let him stay where he is, doctor. The money will be paid. "

Before I could say anything, the door opens and in comes the dame thatposes for all the magazine covers, dressed like a nurse. I never wasmuch on describin'--I probably wouldn't have got ten people to watchthe battle of Gettysburg if I'd have been the press agent--but this wasthe kind of dame that all the wealthy patients fall in love with in themovies--yeh, and out of 'em! The little white cap on top of her headlooked like a dash of whipped cream on a peach sundae, and if youwouldn't have blowed up the city hall for the smile she sent around theroom, I feel sorry for you. She crosses over and, in passin' me, shebegs my pardon and threw that smile into high. 

A hundred and fifty a week, eh? Well--I dives in my inside pocket. 

"May I have your check, Mister--eh--ah--" pipes the doc. 

"Green, " I helps him out, "Johnny Green. Can you have a _check_? Yousaid it!" I sits down and writes one out. 

"Why this is for three hundred dollars!" he busts out, lookin' at it. 

"Even so, brother, " I grins, stealin' a slant at the Venus deCalifornia. "That's for me and the Kid. Gimme a room next to hisand--"

"Do you think this is a hotel?" he frowns at me. 

"I should care!" I tells him. "Let me in--that's all _I_ want!"

With that the nurse remarks that the Kid is ready to see us, so me andMiss Vincent folleys her down the hall and she opens a door and callsin, "Visitors, Mister Scanlan!"

"Yeh?" pipes the Kid in a show-em-the exit voice. "Ah--can I have adrink of--ah--water?"

"Certainly, " she says. "I'll bring it now. "

"Don't rush it!" says the Kid. "It might curdle! Wait till theattendance falls off a bit!"

She laughs--and Miss Vincent didn't. 

"Oho!" whispers the pet of the movies. "Like that, eh?"

We go in the room, and there's Scanlan layin' in the whitest bed I evenseen in my life and lookin' about as miserable as a millionaire'snephew on the day his uncle dies. There's about three hundred pillowsunder his head and neck, his arm is all bandaged up and beside the bedis a table with a set of flowers on it. 

And then there was that nurse!

"Pretty soft!" I says. 

The Kid grins and then twists around to Miss Vincent and groans. 

"Does it hurt much, you poor dear?" she says. 

"I wonder how I stand it!" pipes the Kid, keepin' his face from me. 

"Can I get you anything?" she asks him after a minute. 

"Well, " answers the Kid, "if I did want something we could send Johnnyfor it. " He looks at me meanin'ly. "Go out and git the right time!"he tells me. "And while you're at it--take lots of it!"

I went outside and closed the door. I remembered bein' in a hospitalonce, where they was examinin' guys for nerves, and one of the testswas hittin' 'em in the knee with a book and watchin' if their legs flewout. I don't remember the name of the book, but I figured on takin' achance. I breezed out to the desk in the hall and filled out one ofthem entry blanks about myself, and then I dug up the doctor. 

"Doc, " I says, "I wish you'd gimme the East and West, there's somethin'the matter with my nerve. I know you can fix me up, if anybody can, because you got so much yourself. "

"Just what is the East and West?" he asks me. 

"Why, look me over!" I explains. "I wanna see what I need or shouldget rid of. "

He leads me in a little room to one side, and goes over me like alawyer lookin' for a clause in a contract he can bust. He looks at mytongue till it begin to quiver from exposure to the air; he clocks mypulse at a mile, two miles and over the jumps; he stuck a telephonelike you see in the foreign movies over my heart and listened in on theinternal gossip for twenty minutes; he walloped me on the chest withthe best he had and made me sing a song called"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" Then he shakes his head and tells me to puton my coat. 

"You're one of the healthiest specimens I ever examined!" he says. "There's absolutely nothing the matter with you. "

"Well, that's certainly tough, doc, " I tells him, "because I sure wantto win one of them rooms like Scanlan has. I--wait a minute!" Ihollers, gettin' a flash. "You didn't gimme the book test!"

I hops over to the desk and grabs up a book off it. It was a big thickone called "Paralysis to Pneumonia, " and was written by a couple ofGreeks named "Symptoms and Therapeutics. " I never heard of the thingbefore, and I wished it had been "Uncle Tom's Cabin" or somethin' likethat, but I took a chance. 

"Here!" I says. "I don't know if this is the right one or not, butlet's try it out on my knee, eh?"

I seen he didn't make me, so I explains about the nerve test I seenwhere some of the guys throwed out their legs when hit, and some of 'emdidn't. He gimme the laugh then, and tells me to look out of thewindow. I did and they's a terrible crash in back of me, but I keptlookin' out like he told me. Then he says all right, I can turnaround, and, when I did, I see the book case has fell over on thefloor. He claims if I had been nervous, I would have jumped eightyfeet when it crashed down and as they is nothin' the matter with me, Imight as well be on my way. Well, I was up against it--but only for aminute. That last crack of his gimme an idea. I makes a leap acrossthe floor, grabs my heart and starts to shake and shiver like a bum inone of them "Curse of Drink" productions. 

"What's the matter?" he calls out. 

I looks wildly around the room, and I seen a fly upside down on thewindow-sill tryin' to get to its feet. 

"Oh!" I says. "I'm so nervous, doc, I'm shakin' like a crap-shooter. D'ye see that fly? Well, it must have fell off the window justthen--it gimme an awful shock--y'know that sudden noise and--"

He throws up his hands. 

"Come!" he tells me. "I'll assign you to a room. "

That's how I come to get mixed up with the Red Cross. 

Pretty soon they had the Kid's arm better than it ever was, but as theywas still workin' on his nerves, we stuck around at the sanitarium. We're both on a diet, which meant that at each meal-time we was fedabout enough food to nourish a healthy infant about a half hour old. The general idea of the stuff was along nursery lines, too--milk, eggsand baby fodder, three times a day. I was O. K. When I went in there, but in a couple of weeks I was the prize patient on account of themmeals. They tell me I raved one night and bellered for a rattle, andScanlan made the nurse tell him all about Jack the Giant Killer and OldMother Hubbard. The place must have been run by a guy who believed inlettin' the dumb animals live, because you couldn't have got a piece ofmeat in there, if you begged 'em for it till you was black in the face. You could have milk and eggs or eggs and milk--that was the limit!

One mornin' the orderly forgets himself and asks me what I want forbreakfast. I thought they had let down the bars at last, and I all butjumped out of the bed. 

"Gimme a steak, French fried potatoes, coffee and hot rolls, " I says. "Have the potatoes well done and the steak rare. "

"Rave on, " he answers me. "Do you want the eggs boiled, fried orscrambled? Ain't there no particular way you like 'em?"

"Not no more!" I groans, and falls back on the sheets. 

The only bright spot in the whole thing was Miss Woods, the nurse thatcaused me to enter the place. She used to come in every mornin' andmake me play a thermometer was a lollypop and I held the thing in mymouth while she took my temperature and pulled a clock on my pulse. Then the orderly would come in and take the fruit friends had left forme, and I'd be all set for the day. When I kicked about the food, MissWoods claimed I ought to be tickled to get eggs to eat, because theywas very expensive on account of the late war. I says I didn't knowthey had been fightin' with eggs in Europe, and she laughs and says I'mdelicious. She brought me in a book to read and on the cover it's allabout the nights of Columbus. I didn't even open the thing, becausewhat kind of nights could Columbus have had--they was nothin' doin' inthem days. She asks me what my occupation was and says maybe she couldarrange so's I could work at it while I was there to keep my mind offthings. I says I _dared_ anything to keep my mind off of her, and shekinda frowns; so's to brighten things up I says before I come there Ihad been a deck steward on a submarine, and it gets a laugh. Then shesays I looked like a bookkeeper, and I didn't know whether that was aboost or a knock, so I passed it off by sayin' I had a chance to bethat when young, but had to give it up because I couldn't stand thesmell of ink. 

After we have kidded like that for a while, I admits bein' KidScanlan's manager, and with that she suddenly runs to the door andcloses it tight. She comes back on tip-toes, leans over the bedlookin' at me for a minute and then she asks me very soft would I dosomethin' for her. I had got as far as offerin' to dive off the SingerBuildin' into a bucket of water, when she cuts me off and tells me tolisten to her as they wasn't much time. 

She asked me had I ever noticed a big, husky, black-haired guy out inthe exercise yard. I said I had. I remembered a big whale of a man, with the face of a frightened kid, walkin' up and down, up and down, all day long. Every now and then he'd stop and pick up a pebble or ahandful of dirt and take it to one side where he'd examine it for halfan hour. Then he'd throw it away and start that sentry thing again. 

Well, she said, this bird had been down to South America where he haddiscovered some kind of a mineral that had made him very rich and somekind of a fever that had made him very sick. He was at the sanitariumso's the doctors could keep a eye on him, the bettin' bein' about sevento five that he would go nutty, if some excavatin' wasn't doneimmediately on his dome. A operation will save him, but his parentswon't think of it, and there you are. When she stopped, I told herthat whilst I never had performed no operations before, beyond oncewhen I pulled a loose tooth of Scanlan's between the second and thirdround of a fight, I would get somebody to sneak me in some tools andget to work on the big guy the first chance I got. She give a littlesqueal and says that wasn't what she wanted me to do, gettin' pale andprettier every minute. I seen I pulled a bone, so I asks her to comeright out with it and whatever she said I'd do it or break a leg. 

"Then when Mr. Scanlan takes his exercise every day with the boxinggloves and punching bag, " she says, "get him to persuade Arthur to joinhim. Arthur would do it for him quicker than he would for me or any ofthe doctors. He thinks we are all in league against him and he admiresMr. Scanlan--I've read it in his face as he watches him out in theyard. Arthur himself was a noted athlete before he went to SouthAmerica. He might even box with Mr. Scanlan. That would lessen thetension on his mind and we might get him to see that an operationis--Oh! Will you do it?" she breaks off suddenly, grabbin' my hand. 

"Will I?" I says, holdin' on to that hand. "If Scanlan don't box him, I'll take him on myself!"

"Oh, thank you--thank you!" she whispers, "I--"

"That's all right!" I cuts her off. "Is--ah--is the big fellow anyrelation to you?"

She blushed. Yeh--and I looked at her, forgettin' a lot of thingsabout both of us that didn't quite match--and wished! I got everythingI had together for one good try, bein' handicapped by the fact that Istill had her hand and that room was goin' around like a top. Andthen, poor boob--I looked down at the hand I didn't have, wonderin' whyshe didn't answer me--and saw the answer on one finger. The darnedcold, glitterin' thing seemed to sneer at me. I felt like I'd stoppedone with my chin, and somethin' went outa me that ain't back yet. What? Well, a guy can hope, can't he?

Say! That ring must have cost five hundred bucks--it was a pip!

I grabbed a drink of that darned milk to steady myself, and I seen fromthe way she looked at me that she got me. 

"I see!" I says, lettin' go of the hand that belonged to friend Arthur. "He--and he went to South America, eh?"

"Listen!" she whispers, bendin' over. "You know now what this means tome. If you'll help me, I'll do anything for you! Why--"

I sat up in bed and grabbed her hand again. 

"Anything?" I asks her. 

She looks out the window, gets pale and grits her teeth. You could seeshe wished she hadn't said it, but she was game and was standin' pat. 

"Anything!" she says. 

"Then for the love of heaven!" I shoots out, "get me a piece of meat!This egg and milk thing is drivin' me nutty!"

She wheeled around so quick the scared look was still on her face, andfor a minute we both just looked. Then she give a kinda nervous littlelaugh, grabbed both my hands, squeezed 'em like a man--and blew!

Oh, boy! I ain't no hard loser but--

Well, it wasn't no trick at all to get big Arthur to box with the Kid. He took to it like a chorus girl does to a telephone and what puzzledme was why none of them fifty dollar doctors hadn't thought of itbefore. I guess it was because they was nobody there husky enough tohandle him by themselves, because Arthur packed a wallop in each handthat meant curtains, if it landed. Behind that was six-foot-two ofbone and about two hundred and forty pounds of muscle. 

The Kid labored with him like a mother with a baby. He taught him howto duck, feint, jab, uppercut, swing, stall, rough in the clinches, everything he knew, and Arthur learned awful quick. So quick that wehad to cut the bouts down to twenty minutes each, because the big guydidn't _know_ and he was _tryin'_ with every punch!

The doctors told Scanlan to talk operation to him, and the Kid tried itonce. Arthur stopped boxin' and looked at him so reproachful thatScanlan refused to mention it again. He said he looked just like a kidthat come down Christmas mornin' and found no tree. 

Finally, me and the Kid packed up and kissed the sanitarium good-by, but every afternoon at three we went over and Scanlan put on the gloveswith Arthur for a while, because I had give my word to his girl. Arthur got so he lived all the rest of the day and night lookin'forward to three o'clock in the afternoon. He snarled at the doctors, cuffed the orderlies, didn't know Miss Woods from the iron gate thatkept him in there, but the minute Scanlan breezed into the yard withthe gloves his face would be one big smile. 

This went on for three months--and then Miss Vincent stepped into thething. 

She wanted to know where the Kid was goin' every afternoon at threeo'clock, and like a simp, I told her the whole story. She thanks mewith a odd look that I didn't get till that night, when the Kid comestearin' in to our room at the hotel and slams the door. When he getswhere he can make his tongue do like he asks it, he says it's all offbetween him and Miss Vincent. By usin' some judgment and four hours oftime I find out that Miss Vincent thinks this stuff about the Kidboxin' Arthur is a lot of bunk and the Kid was really goin' back to thesanitarium every day to see Miss Woods. She has give that nurse theonce over and then used some woman's arithmetic which makes two and twoequal nine, get me? Well, one word led to another, and finally shetells him if he don't cut the sanitarium out, she's off him for life. 

That's a bad way to handle Scanlan. He's Irish and--you know!

He told her we give our word and he was gonna box Arthur till theyremodeled Arthur's skull, no matter what happened. Then Miss Vincentgets sensible and weeps. In a minute the Kid is on his knees, and sheshows more sense than usual by chasin' him at that point. At thebottom of the stairs, Scanlan calls up and asks if he can kiss her goodnight. She tells him it's too late now, he has missed thepsychological moment. 

That last was what had the Kid up in the air. He didn't know what itmeant, except that it was a cinch she wasn't wishin' him good luck. That psychological thing was past me, too. I looked it up in thedictionary, and it was there all right, but it could have been inRussia as far as I was concerned, because the way it described it wasover my head. The Kid finally puts it right up to Miss Vincent, andshe tells him to find out for himself. 

"Go over to that trick sanitarium of yours, and ask Miss Woods, " shetells him scornfully. "Maybe _she_ can tell you what it means!"

But at two o'clock, when the Kid is leavin' for his daily maulin' beewith big Arthur, she comes along in her racin' car and asks him to goto Los Angeles with her. The Kid stalls and says he's just about gottime to get over and give the South American entry a workout, althoughhe'd rather take the ride with her than defend his title against aone-armed blind man. She frowns for a minute, and then she smiles andsays hop in with her and she'll drive him over to the sanitarium. 

When they blowed in that night at seven o'clock, I seen the Kid lookskinda worried, while he's washin' the Golden West off his face andneck, so I ask him how Arthur is comin' along. Scanlan coughs a coupleof times and then he says he don't know, because he wasn't able to getover there that afternoon--the first he'd missed since I promised theworld's champion girl I'd assist her. While I'm still bawlin' him out, he claims it wasn't his fault, because the car broke down in the middleof California and they had to get towed back. 

I _will_ say I was sorry to find out that Miss Vincent wasn't above alittle rough stuff! Oh, you ladies!

The next day Genaro suddenly decides to take a scene in the Kid'smovie, and as we was under contract we had to stay. The thirdafternoon, Miss Vincent gets a terrible headache and the Kid has to siton the hotel porch with her, readin' out loud her press notices fromthe movie magazines. 

I kept out of it, but thinkin' about Arthur and that little nurse overthere had me bitin' nails, and the next day I told the Kid if he didn'tgo out and trade wallops with Arthur, I was through as his pilot. Isaid that right out loud in front of Miss Vincent, lookin' her right inthem famous baby-blue eyes of hers. But you can't figure women--shecrossed me and tells the Kid to go and she'd go with him!

We went out in her racin' car, with me ridin' on the runnin' board andthinkin' what a fine thing accident insurance was for a guy of moderatemeans. By dumb luck we missed crashin' into the scenery along the roadand stopped outside the iron gates of the sanitarium. We had hardlygot in the office, when from down the hall we heard what sounded like arace riot, and a couple of orderlies goes past us so fast that I didn'tbelieve it could be done, although I seen 'em. The Kid runs down towhere the noise was comin' from and I tagged along in the rear, stoppin' with him outside a big two-doored room, where from the soundsthat crashed out from inside they was puttin' on a dress rehearsal of arace riot. 

While we stood there lookin' at each other, a familiar deep snarlin'voice roars out over the others--they was a scream, too, that made meneck and neck with the Kid as we busted in the locked doors and wentsprawlin' inside. 

Oh, boy!

A half dozen nurses and two or three doctors is lined up against thewall on the far side, crouchin' back of an operatic table and tryin' toforce their bodies through the hard cement. The place looks like acyclone had hit it, with the walls scraped and scarred and the floorcovered with plaster and what not like the show-room of a junk shop. Half on the floor and half on a chair is Miss Woods. I hoped she hadonly fainted. 

In the middle of the room and backin' against the doors is a big, growlin', red-eyed killer that used to be Arthur. 

Most of his clothes is torn off where some of them poor little humanbein's had tried to hold him, and over his head he's swingin' a ironpole he'd torn from the fancy front gate outside. Each time he swings, he comes nearer that bunch with nothin' between them and Heaven but awhite enameled table. He didn't seem to notice Scanlan, who slidalmost to his feet, and rightin' himself like a cat, stepped back tosize the thing up. Then with a growl, Arthur chops at the operatin'table with the pole and crumbles it like a berry box. The womenscreamed--I think one of 'em fainted. The doctors spread in front ofthem, as Arthur raised the pole to finish the job. 

And then Scanlan, poppin' up from somewheres, jumps in front of Arthur, his face the color of that busted table, but his body as steady as theRockies, as he plants himself there before the big guy, swingin' hishead back easily before that tremblin' iron pole. The Kid throws hishands up in a fightin' position and dances from one foot to the otherlookin' for a openin', like a guy with a pail of water tryin' to putout hell! Arthur hesitates, starin' wildly at the Kid, and then hisface begins to change till it's almost human. He looks like he'stryin' to think. 

"Come on!" bawls Scanlan--loud, to keep the crack out of his voice. "Come on!" He dances around Arthur and makes a pass at him. "I gotsome new ones to show you to-day!" he yells. "Hurry up, orwe--won't--have--time--to--mix it!"

I remember the head doc told me afterwards it was because the bigfeller had been doin' that every day--boxin' with the Kid--for so longthat it--

But what's that matter now? Arthur dropped that iron pole, put up hishands, grins like a baby and rocks the Kid with a straight left, whilethem nurses and doctors tumbled out of the room thankin' theirdifferent gods. Somebody carried out Miss Woods, too. 

I guess Scanlan never battled before like he did in the next tenminutes, because he was fightin' for the biggest purse he ever climbedin a ring for--his life! The big guy smashed him all over the placetryin' for a knockout like the Kid had taught him, crushin' his ribs inthe clinches till Scanlan's breathin' cut me to the heart and rainin'wallops on him like a machine gun. Me? Oh, I didn't do much but rootfor the Kid. Y'see I was beside that operatic table when Arthur lammedit with the pole--some of it kinda glanced off and I stopped it with myhead. A game little bantam of a doctor hopped around 'em, as theyslewed over the floor, lookin' like a referee--but he was simply tryin'to slip friend Arthur a hypodermic while Scanlan kept him busy. 

Finally, the Kid staggers Arthur with a lucky right smash to the chin, and then a half a dozen left and rights to the body cut his size downto where the Kid could put all he had left in one swing--and it's allover. The little doc with the hypo gets busy, and, when we left theroom, Arthur was headed for the operatin' pen--his trip havin' beeninterrupted by the slight excitement Scanlan had stopped!

Well, me and the Kid was hustled upstairs to be fussed over, windin'up, you might say, where we started, in the hospital. After a timeMiss Woods comes up and thanks us--at least she made a stab at it andweeps. The operation had been a success, and when Arthur could walk hewas gonna reward Miss Woods for her lovin' care by marryin' her, andshe looked like she thought that was enough--ain't women a scream?

We was talkin' to the doctor, when Miss Vincent come in--stands in thedoorway for a minute lookin' like a swell picture in a punk frame, andcomes to the Kid with a yours-for-keeps look in her eyes. Scanlanthrows up his head like he's just thought of somethin'. 

"Say!" he pipes through the bandages. "I know what that psychologicalmoment thing is now--the doc has just been tellin' me. It seems, " hesays with a grin. "It seems I pulled one off here this afternoon!"

THE END

CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER'S WESTERN NOVELS

May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list. 

THE WAY OF THE BUFFALO

Jim Cameron builds a railroad adjacent to Ballantine's property, eventhough Ballantine threatens to kill him the day he runs it. 

BRASS COMMANDMENTS

Stephen Lannon writes six commandments over six loaded cartridges setout where the evil men who threaten him and the girl he loves, may seethem. 

WEST!

When Josephine Hamilton went West to visit Betty, she met "Satan"Lattimer, ruthless, handsome, fascinating, who taught her some things. 

SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON

Square Deal Sanderson rode onto the Double A just as an innocent manwas about to be hanged and Mary Bransford was in danger of losing herproperty. 

"BEAU" RAND

Bristling with quick, decisive action, and absorbing in its love theme, "Beau" Rand, mirrors the West of the hold-up days in remarkable fashion. 

THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y

Calumet Marston, daredevil, returns to his father's ranch to find it isbeing run by a young woman who remains in charge until he acceptssundry conditions. 

"DRAG" HARLAN

Harlan establishes himself as the protector of Barbara Morgan and dealsout punishment to the girl's enemies through the lightning flash ofdrawn guns. 

THE TRAIL HORDE

How Kane Lawler fought the powerful interests that were trying to crushhim and Ruth Hamlin, the woman he loved, makes intensely interestingreading. 

THE RANCHMAN

The story of a two-fisted product of the west, pitted against arascally spoilsman, who sought to get control of Marion Harlan and herranch. 

"FIREBRAND" TREVISON

The encroachment of the railroad brought Rosalind Benham--and alsoresults in a clash between Corrigan and "Firebrand" that ends when thebetter man wins. 

THE RANGE BOSS

Ruth Harkness comes West to the ranch her uncle left her. RexRanderson, her range boss, rescues her from a mired buckboard, and isin love with her from that moment on. 

THE VENGEANCE OF JEFFERSON GAWNE

A story of the Southwest that tells how the law came to a cow-town, dominated by a cattle thief. There is a wonderful girl too, who winsthe love of Jefferson Gawne. 

GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK