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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d7b82bc --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,4 @@ +*.txt text eol=lf +*.htm text eol=lf +*.html text eol=lf +*.md text eol=lf diff --git a/LICENSE.txt b/LICENSE.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6312041 --- /dev/null +++ b/LICENSE.txt @@ -0,0 +1,11 @@ +This eBook, including all associated images, markup, improvements, +metadata, and any other content or labor, has been confirmed to be +in the PUBLIC DOMAIN IN THE UNITED STATES. + +Procedures for determining public domain status are described in +the "Copyright How-To" at https://www.gutenberg.org. + +No investigation has been made concerning possible copyrights in +jurisdictions other than the United States. Anyone seeking to utilize +this eBook outside of the United States should confirm copyright +status under the laws that apply to them. diff --git a/README.md b/README.md new file mode 100644 index 0000000..e50fa5c --- /dev/null +++ b/README.md @@ -0,0 +1,2 @@ +Project Gutenberg (https://www.gutenberg.org) public repository for +eBook #55164 (https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/55164) diff --git a/old/55164-0.txt b/old/55164-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 6981574..0000000 --- a/old/55164-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6479 +0,0 @@ -Project Gutenberg's The Picaroons, by Gelett Burgess and Will Irwin - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and most -other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Picaroons - -Author: Gelett Burgess - Will Irwin - -Release Date: July 21, 2017 [EBook #55164] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICAROONS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - - - - - THE PICAROONS - - - - - By the Same Author - - ❦ - - _The Reign of Queen Isyl_ - - - - - THE - PICAROONS - - BY GELETT BURGESS - AND WILL IRWIN - -[Illustration] - - NEW YORK - McCLURE, PHILLIPS & COMPANY - MCMIV - - - - - _Copyright, 1904, by_ - MCCLURE, PHILLIPS & CO. - - Published, April, 1904 - - - _Copyright, 1903, 1904, by Pearson Publishing Co._ - - - - - To THE RED CYCLONE - - G. B—— W. I. - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - THE PICAROONS - - - - - CONTENTS - - - CHAPTER I - Page - - A MIRACLE AT COFFEE JOHN’S 3 - The Story of the Great Bauer Syndicate 15 - - - CHAPTER II - - JAMES WISWELL COFFIN 3d. 26 - The Story of the Harvard Freshman 27 - - - CHAPTER III - - PROFESSOR VANGO 45 - The Story of the Ex-Medium 46 - - - CHAPTER IV - - ADMEH DRAKE 60 - The Story of the Hero of Pago Bridge 61 - - - CHAPTER V - - THE DIMES OF COFFEE JOHN 81 - The Story of Big Becky 83 - - - CHAPTER VI - - THE HARVARD FRESHMAN’S ADVENTURE: THE FORTY PANATELAS 102 - The Story of the Returned Klondyker 108 - The Story of the Retired Car-Conductor 143 - - - CHAPTER VII - - THE EX-MEDIUM’S ADVENTURE: THE INVOLUNTARY SUICIDE 156 - The Story of the Quadroon Woman 175 - - - CHAPTER VIII - - THE HERO’S ADVENTURE: THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM 192 - The Story of the Minor Celebrity 199 - The Mystery of the Hammam 209 - The Story of the Dermograph Artist 217 - The Story of the Deserter of the Philippines 236 - - - CHAPTER IX - - THE WARDS OF FORTUNE 258 - - - - - NOTE - - -_Picaroon—a petty rascal; one who lives by his wits; an adventurer. The -Picaresque Tales, in Spanish literature of the beginning of the -Seventeenth Century, dealt with the fortunes of beggars, impostors, -thieves, etc., and chronicled the Romance of Roguery. Such stories were -the precursors of the modern novel. The San Francisco Night’s -Entertainment is an attempt to render similar subjects with an -essentially modern setting._ - - - - - CHAPTER I - A MIRACLE AT COFFEE JOHN’S - - -The lad in the sweater yawned with abandon and glanced up at the clock -which hung on the whitewashed wall between a lithograph of Admiral Dewey -and a sign bearing the legend: “Doughnuts and Coffee, 5 cents.” - -“I move we proceed,” he said, impatiently. “There’ll be nobody else here -to-night; all the stew-bums have lined up at the bakeries for free -bread. I say, old man, you pull the trigger and we’re off! I’ve got a -two-days’ handicap on my appetite and I won’t do a thing but make an -Asiatic ostrich of myself!” - -“I’ll back my stomach against yours,” said the man with spectacles who -sat opposite him. “I’ll bet I could eat a ton of sinkers and a barrel of -this brown paint. I’m for rounding up the grub myself. I’ll be eating -the oil-cloth off this table, pretty soon!” - -The proprietor of the dingy little restaurant turned to them from the -counter in front, where he had been arranging a pile of wet plates and -an exhibit of pastry in preparation for the next morning’s breakfasts. -Wiping his hands on his apron, he said with a Cockney accent which -proclaimed his birth, hinted at by his florid countenance and -mutton-chop whiskers, “I sye, gents, if yer don’t want to wyte, yer know -bloomin’ well wot yer _kin_ do, an’ that’s git art! Strike me pink if -yer ain’t gort a gall! Yer a bit comin’ on, gents, if yer don’t mind me -syin’ it. I told yer I’d give yer an A1 feed if yer’d on’y wyte for -another bloke to show up, an’ he ain’t ’ere yet, is ’e? Leastwise, if ’e -is, I don’t see ’im.” - -He took off his apron, nevertheless, as if he, too, were anxiously -expectant, and he cast repeated glances at the door, where, painted on -the window in white letters, were the words, “Coffee John’s.” Then he -left the range behind the counter and came across the sanded floor to -the single oil-lamp that lighted the two men who were his last patrons -for the day. - -The younger, he with the red sweater, had a round, jocund face and a -merry, rolling eye that misfortune was powerless to tame, though the lad -had evidently discovered Vagabondia. - -“Who’s your interesting but mysterious friend?” he asked. “You’re not -expecting a lady, I hope!” and he glanced at his coat which, though it -had the cut of a fashionable tailor, was an atrocious harlequin of spots -and holes. - -“I don’t know who’s a comin’ no more’n you do,” Coffee John replied. -“But see ’ere!” and he pointed with a blunt red finger at an insurance -calendar upon the wall. “D’yer cop that there numero? It’s the -Thirteenth of October to-dye, an’ they’ll be comp’ny all right. They -allus is, the Thirteenth of October!” - -“Well, you rope him and we’ll brand him,” remarked the other at the -table, a man of some twenty-two years, with a typically Western cast of -countenance, high cheek-bones and an aquiline nose. His eyes were -gray-blue behind rusty steel spectacles. “I hope that stranger will come -pretty durn pronto,” he added. - -“There’ll be somethink a-doin’ before nine, I give yer _my_ word. I’ll -eat this ’ere bloomin’ pile o’ plytes if they ain’t!” Coffee John -asserted. - -Scarcely had he made the remark when the clock rang out, ending his -sentence like a string of exclamation points, and immediately the door -burst open and a man sprang into the room as though he were a runaway -from Hell. - -In his long, thin, white face two black eyes, set near together, burned -with terror. His mouth was open and quivering, his hands were fiercely -clinched. Under a battered Derby hat his stringy black hair and ragged -beard played over his paper collar in a fringe. He wore a cutaway suit, -green and shiny with age, which, divorced at the waist, showed a ring of -red flannel undershirt. He crept up to the counter like a kicked -spaniel. - -“For God’s sake, gimme a drink o’ coffee, will you?” he whined. - -“Wot’s bitin’ yer?” Coffee John inquired without sentiment. “Don’t yer -ask me to chynge a ’undred-dollar bill, fur I reelly can’t do it!” - -“I lost my nerves, that’s all,” he said, looking over his shoulder -apprehensively. Then, turning to the two at the table, he gazed at them -over the top of a thick mug of coffee. “Lord! That’s good! I’m better -now,” he went on, and wiped off his mustache with a curling tongue, -finishing with his sleeve. “If I should narrate to you the experience -which has just transpired, gents, you wouldn’t believe it. You’d regard -myself as a imposition. But facts is authentic, nevertheless, and cannot -be dissented from, however sceptical.” - -“See here!” cried the lad in the sweater, not too unkindly, “suppose you -tell us about it some other time! We’ve been waiting for you many -mad-some moons, and the time is ripe for the harvest. If you are as -hungry as we are, and want to be among those present at this function, -sit down and you’ll get whatever is coming to you. You can ascend the -rostrum afterward. We were just looking for one more, and you’re it.” - -The vagabond looked inquiringly at Coffee John, who, in response, -pointed to a chair. “Why cert’nly,” the new-comer said, removing his -hat, “I must confess I ain’t yet engaged at dinner this evening, and if -you gents are so obliged as to——” - -“Rope it!” roared the man in spectacles, out of all patience. The -voluble stranger seated himself hurriedly. - -Coffee John now drew two tables together. “Jest excuse me for half a -mo’, gents, w’ile I unfurl this ’ere rag,” he said, spreading the cloth. - -The three strangers looked on in surprise, for the Cockney’s tone had -changed. He wore an expectant smile as he seated himself in the fourth -place and rapped loudly on the table, distributing, as he did so, a -damask napkin to each of his guests. - -“Gloriana peacock!” cried the man in spectacles, “I’m sorry I forgot to -wear my dress-suit. I had no idea you put on so much dog for coffee and -sinkers.” - -“Get wise, old chap,” the man in the sweater said, warningly, “I have a -hunch that this is to be no mere charity poke-out. This is the true -chloroform. We’re up against a genuine square this trip, or I’m a -Patagonian. How about that, Coffee John?” - -The host tucked his napkin into his neck and replied, benignly, “Oh, I -dunno, we’ll do wot we kin, an’ them as ain’t satisfied can order their -kerridges.” - -As he spoke, two Chinamen emerged from the back room and filed up the -dusky rows of tables, bearing loaded trays. Swiftly and deftly they -spread the board with cut glass, china, and silverware, aligning a -delectable array of bottles in front of the proprietor. In a trice the -table began to twinkle with the appointments of a veritable banquet, -complete even to a huge centre-piece of California violets. In that -shabby hole an entertainment began to blossom like a flower blooming in -a dunghill, and the spectators were awed and spellbound at the sudden -miracle of the transformation. The man in the red sweater loosened his -belt three holes under the table, the black-eyed man pulled a pair of -frayed cuffs from his sleeves, and the other wiped his glasses and -smiled for the first time. When all was ready, Coffee John arose, and, -filling the glasses, cried jubilantly: - -“Gents, I give yer the good ’elth of Solomon Bauer, Esquire, an’ the -Thirteenth of October, an’ drink ’earty!” - -The toast was drunk with wonder, for the men were visibly impressed, -but, at the entry of oysters, each began to eat as if he were afraid it -were all a dream and he might awake before it was over. The lad with the -merry eye alone showed any restraint; his manners were those of a -gentleman. The one with the spectacles drank like a thirsty horse, and -the thin, black-haired individual watched the kitchen-door to see what -was coming next. Following the oysters came soup, savoury with cheese. - -“Potage _au fromage_, _a la_ Cafe Martin, or I’ve never been in New -York!” cried the youngster. - -“Correck. I perceive yer by wye of bein’ an epicoor,” Coffee John -remarked, highly pleased at the appreciation. - -“I didn’t think they could do it in San Francisco,” the youth went on. - -The Cockney turned his pop-eyes at the lad, and, with the bigotry of a -proselyte, broached his favourite topic. “Young man, we kin do anythink -they kin do in New York, not to speak of a trick or two blokes go to -Paris to see done; an’ occysionally we kin go ’em one better. Yer don’t -know this tarn yet. It’s a bloomin’ prize puzzle, that’s wot it is; -they’s a bit o’ everythink ’ere!” - -The fish followed, barracuda as none but Tortoni can broil; then -terrapin, teal, venison, and so, with Western prodigality, to the -dessert. The guests, having met and subdued the vanguard of hunger, did -hilarious battle with the dinner, stabbing and slashing gallantly. No -one dared to put his good fortune to the hazard of the inquiry, though -each was curious, until at last the lad in the sweater could resist -wonder no longer. The demands of nature satisfied, his mind sought for -diversion. He laid his fork down, and pushed back his plate. - -“It’s too good to be true,” he said. “I want to know what we’re in for, -anyway! What’s your little game? It may be bad manners to be -inquisitive, but I’ve slept in a wagon, washed in a horse-trough and -combed my hair with tenpenny nails for so long that I’m not responsible. -The time has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things! and I balk -right here until I know what’s up your sleeve. No bum gets a Delmonico -dinner at a coffee-joint on the Barbary Coast for nothing, I don’t -think; and by John Harvard, I want to be put next to whether this is -charity, insanity, a bet, or are you trying to fix us for something -shady?” - -“What d’you want to stampede the show for?” interrupted the man in -spectacles. “We haven’t been asked to pay in advance, have we? We’ve -signed no contract! You were keen to begin as a heifer is for salt, and -when we draw a prize you want to look a gift-horse in the jaw! Get onto -yourself!” - -“Gents,” the unctuous voice of the third man broke in, “they’s champagne -a-comin’!” - -Coffee John had been looking from one to the other in some amusement. -“Easy, gents,” he remarked. “I ain’t offended at this ’ere youngster’s -expreshings, though I don’t sye as wot I mightn’t be, if ’e wa’n’t a -gentleman, as I can see by the wye ’e ’andles ’is knife, an’ the -suspicious fack of ’is neck bein’ clean, if he _do_ wear a Jarsey. Nar, -all I gort to sye is, thet this ’ere feast is on the squyre an’ no -questions arsked. As soon as we gits to the corffee, I’ll explyne.” - -“I accept your apology,” the lad cried, gayly, and he rose, bubbling -with impudence. “Gentlemen-adventurers, knights of the empty pocket, -comrades of the order of the flying brake-beam and what-not, I drink -your very good health. Here’s to the jade whose game we played, not once -afraid of losing, ah! It is passing many wintry days since I fed on -funny-water and burned cologne in my _petit noir_, but there _was_ a -time—! My name, brothers of the pave, is James Wiswell Coffin 3d. Eight -Mayflower ancestors, double-barrelled in-and-in stock, Puritans of -Plymouth. Wrestling Coffin landed at Salem in the _Blessing of the Bay_, -1630, and——” - -“Whoa, there!” the man in spectacles cried. “You ain’t so all-fired -numerous! I left a happy mountain-home myself, but the biographical -contest don’t come till the show is over in the big tent!” - -“Cert’nly not, after you vetoed at my remarks,” said the third. “Let’s -testify after the dishes is emptier and we begin to feel more like a -repletion!” - -In such wise the guests proceeded with badinage till the fruit appeared. -Then, as a plate containing oranges and bananas was placed on the table, -the young man of the party suddenly arose with a look of disgust, and -turned from the sight. - -“See here, Coffee John,” he said, pacifically, “would you mind, as a -grand transcontinental favour, removing those bananas? I’m very much -afraid I’ll have to part with my dinner if you don’t.” - -“Wot’s up?” was the reply. - -“Nothing, yet,” said the youth. “But I’ll explain later. We’ll have to -work out all these puzzles and word-squares together.” - -The bananas were taken away, while the others looked on curiously. Then -the man with glasses grew serious, and said, “As long as objections have -been raised, and the whole bunch is a bit loco, I don’t mind saying I’ve -a request to make, myself.” - -“Speak up, an’ if they’s anythink wrong, I’ll try to myke it correck,” -said Coffee John. “’Evving knows it ain’t ’ardly usual for the likes o’ -me to tyke orders from the likes o’ you, but this dinner is gave to -please, _if_ possible, an’ I don’t want no complyntes to be neglected. -Wot’s the matter nar?” - -“I’ve been sitting with my back to the wall, as you may have noticed, -but there’s that over my head that makes me feel pretty sick when I -catch myself thinking,” said the objector. “It’s that picture of Dewey. -He’s all right, and a hero for sure; but if you don’t mind, would you -turn him face to the wall, so I can look up?” - -“Don’t menshing it,” said Coffee John, rising to gratify this eccentric -request. “Nar wot’s your private an’ partickler farncy?” he asked, -turning to the thin, dark man. - -“Nothin’ at all, only proceed with the exercises, and if you’d be -magnanimous enough to allow me to smoke, they being no females -present——” - -A box of Carolina perfectos was brought in, with a coffee-urn, cognac, -and liqueurs, and the three men, now calm, genial, and satisfied, gave -themselves up to the comforts of tobacco. Even the youngest allowed -himself to draw up a chair for his feet, and sighed in content. Coffee -John finished the last drop in his glass, drew out his brier pipe, and -lighted it. Then, producing a folded paper from his pocket, he raised -his finger for silence and said: - -“If yer wants to know the w’y and the w’erfore of this ’ere reparst, -gents, I am nar ready to give yer satisfaction o’ sorts. It ain’t me yer -obligyted to, at all; it’s a newspyper Johnnie nymed Sol Bauer who’s put -up for it, him as I arsked yer for to drink a ’elth to. It’s a proper -queer story ’ow ’e come to myke and bryke in this ’ere very shop o’ -mine, an’ if yer stogies is all drawin’ easy, I’ll read the tyle as ’e -wrote it art for me, skippin’ the interduction, w’ich is personal, ’e -bein’ of the belief that it wos me wot brought ’im luck. - -“So ’ere goes, from w’ere ’e come darn to this plyce of a Hoctober night -five years ago.” And so saying, he opened the paper. The narrative, -deleted of Coffee John’s dialect, was as follows: - - - THE STORY OF THE GREAT BAUER SYNDICATE - -Ten years I had been a newspaper man, and had filled almost every -position from club reporter to managing editor, when just a year ago I -found myself outside Coffee John’s restaurant, friendless, hungry, and -without a cent to my name. Although I had a reputation for knowing -journalism from A to Z, I had been discharged from every paper in the -city. The reason was good enough; I was habitually intemperate, and -therefore habitually unreliable. I did not drink, as many journalists -do, to stimulate my forces, but for love of the game. It was physically -impossible for me to remain sober for more than two weeks at a time. - -I had, that day, been discharged from the _Tribune_ for cause. The new -president of the Southern Pacific Company was on his way to San -Francisco, and it was necessary for our paper to get ahead of its -contemporaries and obtain the first interview. I was told to meet the -magnate at Los Angeles. I loitered at a saloon till I was too late for -the train, and then decided I would meet my man down the line at Fresno. -The next train south left while I was still drinking. I had time, -however, to catch the victim on the other side of the bay, and interview -him on the ferry, but he got in before I roused myself from my dalliance -with the grape. Then, trusting to sheer bluff, I hurried into the -office, called up two stenographers, dictated a fake interview -containing important news, and rushed the thing on the press. - -The next day the president of the railway repudiated the whole thing, -and I was summarily given the sack. Nevertheless, it so happened that -almost the whole of what I had predicted came true within the year. - -I celebrated the bad luck in my characteristic manner, and finished with -just sense enough to wish to clear my head with black coffee. So, -trusting to my slight acquaintance with Coffee John, and more to his -well-known generosity, I entered his place, and for the first time in my -life requested what I could not pay for. I was not disappointed. A cup -of coffee and a plate of doughnuts were handed me without comment or -advice. - -As I was making my meal in the back part of the little restaurant, three -men, one after the other, came and sat down at my table. In the general -conversation that ensued I found that one was a tramp printer, whose -boast it was to have worked and jumped his board-bill in nearly every -State in the Union; one was a book-agent, who had been attempting to -dispose of “The Life of U. S. Grant,” and the third was an insurance -solicitor, who had failed to make good the trade’s reputation for -acumen. - -A little talk developed the fact that all four of us were out of funds, -and ready for anything that promised to keep the wolf from the door. -Then, with a journalist’s instinct for putting three and one together, -an idea came to me by which we could all find a way out of the dilemma. - -For it so happened that one of the _Herald’s_ periodical upheavals had -occurred that very day, and a general clean-up was being effected in the -office. The city editor, after a stormy interview with his chief, had -resigned, and had carried with him four of the best men on the staff. -Other reporters who had taken his part had also been let go, and the -city room of the _Herald_ was badly in need of assistance. It was very -likely that any man who could put up any kind of a pretence to knowing -the ropes would stand a fair chance of obtaining a situation without any -trouble. - -My plan was this: Each of the three men was to apply for a situation as -reporter on the _Herald_, and, if accepted, was to report the next day -for his assignment, and then come immediately to me for instructions. I -was to give them all the necessary information as to obtaining the -material, and, when they had brought me the facts, write out the story -for them to hand in. - -The three men agreed enthusiastically to the venture, and I spent the -evening in coaching them in the shop-talk and professional terms they -would need. You cannot teach a man what “news” is in one sitting—a man -has to have a nose trained to smell it, and a special gift for -determining its value, but I described the technical meaning of “a -story” and “covering” a detail. I told them to keep their eyes open, and -gave many examples of how it often happened that a reporter, when sent -out on a little “single-head” story, would, if he were sharp, get a hint -that could be worked up into a front page “seven-column scare-head.” - -There is, of course, no royal road to journalism, but there are -short-cuts that can be learned. I gave them points on the idiosyncrasies -of the new man at the city desk, for I knew him well, and I provided -each of them with a yarn about his supposed previous place. One, I -believe, was to have worked on the St. Louis _Globe-Herald_, under -George Comstock; one had done special writing on the Minneapolis -_Argus_, and so on; for I knew a lot about all the papers in the East, -and I fixed my men so they couldn’t easily be tripped up on their -autobiographies. - -They went down to the _Herald_ office that night, and after I had waited -an hour or so, I had the satisfaction of hearing that all three of my -pupils had been accepted. It was agreed that each of them was to give me -half his salary, and so I had a fair show of earning a man and a half’s -wages as President of the Great Bauer Syndicate. - -At one o’clock the next afternoon I sat down in Coffee John’s and waited -for my subordinates to report. As each man came in I gave him minute -instructions as to the best possible way of obtaining his information. -There was not a trick in the trade I didn’t know, and I had never been -beaten by any paper in town. I had succeeded in obtaining interviews at -two in the morning from persons avowedly hostile to my sheet, I had got -photographs nobody else could get, and I had made railroad officials -talk after an accident. Without conceit, I may claim to be a practical -psychologist, and where most men know only one way of getting what they -want, I know four. My men had little excuse for failing to obtain their -stories, and they walked out of Coffee John’s like automata that I had -wound up for three hours. - -They returned between four and five o’clock, gave me the information -they had secured, and, while they reported to the city editor, received -instructions as to writing the story, and got their evening’s -assignment, I wrote the articles at railroad speed. I could tell as well -as any city editor how much space the stories were worth, and wrote the -head-lines accordingly—for in the _Herald_ office every reporter was his -own head-line writer. - -If by any chance the editor’s judgment were not the same as mine, it -took but a few minutes to cut the thing down or pad it to any length, -and my men took the copy back before they went out on the next detail. -Meanwhile, I had given them their new directions, and, when they turned -up, toward ten and eleven at night, I had the whole batch of writing to -do again. It was a terrific pace for any one man to keep up, and I doubt -if anyone else in San Francisco could have kept three busy and turned -out first-class work. - -This went on for fifteen days, during which time I made Coffee John’s -joint my headquarters. That was the only place where I could hope to -keep sober, working at such high pressure, for I didn’t dare trust -myself in a saloon, and I couldn’t afford to hire an office. The amount -of black coffee I consumed made me yellow for a year. Whether Coffee -John wondered what I was up to or not I never knew; at any rate he asked -no questions and made no objections. - -The Great Bauer Syndicate went merrily, and the members, with the -exception of the president, earned their salaries easily enough. If the -job was especially difficult or delicate, I went out and got the story -myself. At the end of the first week we drew our pay and divided it -according to the agreement, but there were indications that my men -thought they were getting clever enough to handle the work alone. If it -hadn’t been that while I was waiting for them to come in I managed to -write several columns of “space,” faked and otherwise, that they could -turn in and get paid for without any work at all, I would have had -trouble in holding them down to their contracts. Except for this, the -prospects were bright for the prettiest little news syndicate that ever -fooled a city editor. We made a record for two weeks, and then came the -crash. - -I had been as sober as a parson for fifteen long, weary days, beating my -record by twenty-four hours. I had drenched myself in black coffee, and -turned out copy like a linotype machine, keyed up to a tension so tight -that something had to give way. You can easily imagine what happened. -One Monday night, after the last batch of copy had been delivered, and I -had drawn down my second week’s pay, I relapsed into barbarism and cast -care to the winds for the nonce. - -I started down the line, headed for Pete Dunn’s saloon at 1 A.M., with -thirty dollars in my pocket, and I found myself on Wednesday morning at -the Cliff House, with an unresponsive female, whom I was imploring to -call me “Sollie.” What had happened to me in the interim I never cared -to investigate. But the Great Bauer Syndicate was out of business. - -It seems that my three subordinates showed up as usual on Tuesday -afternoon, and after waiting for me a while they attempted to cover -their assignments without my help. The insurance solicitor got all -twisted up, and never came back; the printer threw up his job when he -failed to find me on his return. But the book-agent had grown a bit -conceited by this time, and he thought he was as good as anybody in the -business. So he sat down and wrote out his story, and by what they say -about it, it must have been something rich enough to frame. - -He had picked up a good many stock newspaper phrases, like “repaired to -the scene of the disaster,” and “a catastrophe was imminent,” and “the -last sad offices were rendered,” and “a life hung in the balance,” and -such rot, and he had a literary ambition that would have put the -valedictorian of a female seminary to the blush. He had an idea that my -work was crude and jerky, so he melted down a lot of ineffable poetical -bosh into paragraphs hot enough to set the columns afire. As for the -story, you couldn’t find it for the adjectives. He may have been a -wonder at selling “The Life of U. S. Grant,” but he couldn’t write -English for publication in a daily paper. - -When he turned the stuff in, the city editor gave a look at it, put -about three swift questions to him, and the cat was out of the bag. It -took no time at all to sweat the story out of him, and they sent that -book-agent downstairs so quickly that he never came back. - -The whole office went roaring over the way I’d done the paper, and the -first thing I knew I was sent for, and the managing editor told me that -if I’d take the Keeley cure for four months he’d give me the Sunday -editor’s place and forget the episode. - -The time I put in at Los Gatos taking chloride of gold was the darkness -that preceded my financial dawn. When I graduated I hated the smell of -whiskey so much that I couldn’t eat an ordinary baker’s mince-pie. Six -months after that I was sent for by the New York _Gazette_, where I am -now drawing a salary that makes my life in San Francisco seem insipid. - - * * * * * - -Coffee John folded the document carefully and restored it to his pocket -with consideration. “Thet’s the wye ’e wrote it darn for me, an’ I’ve -read it every year since. Yer see, gents, Sol. Bauer ’avin’ gort the -idea I was, in a wye, the means of his restorashing to respeckability, -an’ by wye of memorisink them three bums, ’as myde a practice o’ sendin’ -me a cheque an a small gift every year, with instrucshings to celebryte -the ’appy event by givin’ the best dinner money can buy to the fust -three blokes as turns up here after 8.30 on the thirteenth dye of -October, an’ I sye it’s ’andsome of ’im. Nar, I propose thet we all -drink ’is very good ’ealth again, after w’ich, them as is agreeable will -tell ’is own story for the mutual pleasure of the assembled company ’ere -present.” - -The three men agreed, and filled their glasses to the grateful memory of -Solomon Bauer of the Great Bauer Syndicate. - - - - - CHAPTER II - JAMES WISWELL COFFIN 3D - - -“Nar, young man,” said Coffee John, pointing the stem of his pipe at the -lad in the red sweater, “seein’ we’ve all agreed to testify, s’pose yer -perceed to open the ball. You come in fust, an’ you talk fust. I ain’t -no fly cop, but it strikes me you’re a bit different from the rest of -us, though we’re all different enough, the Lord knows. Yer jacket fits -yer, an’ thet alone is enough to myke yer conspicus in this ’ere shop. I -see a good many men parss in an’ art from be’ind the carnter, but I -don’t see none too many o’ the likes o’ you. If I ain’t mistook, you’ll -be by wye o’ bein’ wot I might call a amatoor at this ’ere sort o’ -livin’, an’ one as would find a joke w’erever ’e went. You’d larff at a -bloomin’ corpse, you would, and flirt with Queen Victoria. You’ll never -grow up, young fellar; I give yer thet stryte, before yer even open yer -marth.” - -“But wot I cawn’t figger art,” he continued, “is w’y yer jumped at the -sight of a bunch o’ ord’n’ry yeller bananas. I’ve seen ’em eat with -their bloomin’ knives, an’ comb their w’iskers with their bloomin’ -forks, but this ’ere is a new one on me, an’ it gets my gyme. I’m nar -ready to listen.” - -“Even so!” said the youth. “Then I shall now proceed to let the -procession of thought wriggle, the band play, and the bug hop. The -suspense, I know, is something terrible, so I spare your anxiety.” And -with this fanfare he began to relate - - - THE STORY OF THE HARVARD FRESHMAN - -When I received a cordial invitation from the Dean to leave Harvard the -second time—on that occasion it was for setting off ten alarm-clocks at -two-minute intervals in chapel—the governor flew off the handle. My fool -kid brother, that was to side-track the letter from the faculty, got -mixed on his signals, and the telegram that the old man sent back nearly -put the Cambridge office out of business. He said that I had foozled my -last drive, and, although a good cane is sometimes made out of a crooked -stick, he washed his hands of me, and would I please take notice that -the remittances were herewith discontinued. - -I noticed. After I’d settled up and given my farewell dinner to the -Institute, where they were sorry to lose me because I was playing a -cyclone game on the Freshman Eleven, I had ninety-eight dollars, and -twelve hours to leave the college yard. Thinking it over, it struck me -that the keenest way for me to get my money’s worth was to go out and -take a sub-graduate course as a hobo—do the Wyckoff act, minus the -worker and the prayer-meetings. I wasn’t going to beg my meals—there was -where the pride of the Coffins stuck out—but I was willing to stand for -the rest—dust, rust, and cinders. As a dead-head tourist, ninety-eight -bones would feed me and sleep me for quite a space. I swung on at South -Boston for my first lesson in brake-beams, and, tumbled off mighty sick -at Worcester. - -It’s a long tale, with hungry intervals, until I found myself in the -pound, at Peru, Illinois, for smashing a fresh brakeman and running up -against the constabulary. The police judge of that hustling little -Western centre is paid out of the fines that he collects. It is a -strange coincidence that when I was searched I had forty-seven, twenty, -on my person, and my fine for vagrancy and assault came to forty -dollars, with seven-twenty costs. The judge was a hard-shell deacon. - -Next week, after I crawled out of the underground Pullman, at -Louisville, I was watching Senator Burke’s racing stables come in, and I -was hungry enough to digest a sand-car. It being work or beg, I says, -“Here’s where I break the ethics of my chosen profession and strike for -a job.” There was nothing doing until one of the hands mentioned, for a -joke, that a waiter was wanted for the dining-room where the nigger -jockeys ate. “It is only a matter of sentiment,” said I to myself, “and -my Massachusetts ancestors fit and bled and died to make freedmen out of -the sons of Ham. Here goes for a feed.” I took the place, collecting a -breakfast in advance, and threw chow for three meals at coloured -gentlemen who buried it with their knives. “If I am the prodigal son,” -says I to myself, “these are the swine, all right.” - -There was a black exercise-boy in the bunch who played the prize -Berkshire hog. He was rather big for a man about the stables. -Superstition held that he could lick everything of his weight on earth, -and he acted as though he was a front-page feature in the _Police -Gazette_. During the fourth meal he got gay over my frank, untrammelled -way of passing soup. By way of repartee, I dropped the tray, tucked up -my apron, and cleared for action. - -First, I wiped off one end of the table with him, the way the hired girl -handles crumbs. Then I hauled him out into the light of day, so as not -to muss the dining-room, and stood him up against the pump, and gave him -the Countercheck Quarrelsome. He was long on life and muscle, but short -on science, and he swung miles wide. After I’d ducked and countered two -attempts, he dropped his head all of a sudden. I saw what was coming. I -got out of range and let him butt, and when he came into my zone of fire -I gave him the knee good and proper. His face faded into a gaudy ruin. - -The superintendent came down to restore order, and saw how merrily I -jousted. He was a bit strict, but he was a true Peruvian in some ways, -and he loved a scrapper. That night I got a hurry call to the office, -and walked away James Wiswell Coffin 3d, anointed assistant rubber. -After the season was over at Louisville, we pulled up stakes and hiked -on to Chicago, following the circuit. When we moved I was raised to -night-watchman—forty and found. Nothing happened until close to the end -of the season at Chicago, except that I ate regularly. Money was easy in -that part. Whenever I picked up any of it I looked around for good -things in the betting. Without springing myself any, I cleaned up a -little now and then, and when the big chance came I was $200 to the -good. - -This is the way that Fate laid herself open, so that I could get in one -short-armed jab ere she countered hard. It was the night before a big -race, really more important to us than the Derby. Everyone around the -stables was bughouse with it. Before I went out on watch, the -superintendent—his name was Tatum, please remember that—lined me up and -told me that he’d have me garrotted, electrocuted, and crucified if -there was a hair so much as crossed on either of our entries. We had two -of them, Maduro and Maltese. The pair sold at six to five. Outside and -in, it looked as though the old man hadn’t had a cup nailed so hard for -years. The trainers were sleeping beside the ponies, but I was supposed -to look in every half hour to see how things were coming on. At midnight -Tatum came round and repeated his remarks, which riled me a bit, and -Maduro’s trainer said he would turn in for a little sleep. - -The next call, for Heaven knows what nutty reason, I got back to -Maduro’s stall a quarter ahead of the hour. There was about a -teaspoonful of light coming through the cracks. I got an eye to a -knot-hole, and saw things happening. There was Maduro trussed like a -rib-roast, and trying to jump, and there was the trainer—“Honest Bob” -they used to call him—poking a lead-pencil up her nose. He said a swear -word and began to feel around in the mare’s nostril, and pulled out a -sponge. He squeezed it up tight and stuffed it back, and began to poke -again. That was the cue for my grand entry. - -“Good-morning,” I said through the hole; “you’re sleeping bully.” I was -cutting and sarcastic, because I knew what was up. The sponge-game—stuff -it up a horse’s nose, and he can walk and get around the same as ever, -but when he tries to run, he’s a grampus. - -He was too paralysed even to chuck the pencil. He stood there with his -hands down and his mouth open. - -“Oh, hello,” he said, when his wind blew back. “I was just doctoring the -mare to make her sleep.” All this time I’d been opening the latch of the -door, and I slid into the corner. - -“Oh, sure,” said I, displaying my gun so that it would be conspicuous, -but not obtrusive. “I suppose you’d like to have me send for Mr. Tatum. -He’d like to hold her little hoof and bend above her dreams,” says I. - -“Oh, there’s no necessity for bothering him,” said “Honest Bob,” in a -kind of conciliatory way, and edging nearer to me all the time. I might -have been caught if I hadn’t noticed that his right hand was lifted just -a bit with the two first fingers spread. I learned that game with the -alphabet. You slide in on your man, telling him all the time that he is -your lootsy-toots, until you get your right in close, and then you shoot -that fork into both his lamps. He can neither see nor shoot nor hit -until his eyes clear out, which gives you time to do him properly. -“Honest Bob” was taking a long chance. - -I guarded my eyes and shoved the gun in his face. I felt like Old Nick -Carter. - -“How much do you want?” said he, all of a sudden. - -“The honour of the Coffins never stoops to bribery,” said I; “but if -you’ll tell me what’s going to win to-morrow, I’ll talk business. If the -tip’s straight, I forget all about this job.” - -“Early Rose,” he said. - -“The devil you say!” said I. Early Rose was selling at twenty-five to -one. I gave it to him oblique and perpendicular that if his tip was -crooked I would peach and put him out of business for life. He swore -that he was in the know. For the rest of that night I omitted Maduro’s -stall and did some long-distance thinking. - -I could see only one way out of it. Maduro loses sure, thinks I, and -whether it’s to be Early Rose or not, there’s an investigation coming -that involves little Jimmy 3d. What’s the matter with winning a pot of -money and then disappearing in a self-sacrificing spirit, so that -“Honest Bob” can lay it all to me? I was sick of the job, anyway. - -What happened next day has passed into the history of the turf, but the -thing that wasn’t put into the papers was the fact that I was in on -Early Rose with one hundred and ninety plunks at twenty-five to one. He -staggered home at the head of a groggy bunch that wilted at the -three-quarters. I sloped for the ring and drew down $4,940. Just what -happened, and whether the nags were all doped or not, I don’t know to -this day, but there must be more in this horse-racing business than doth -appear to the casual débutante. - -Two minutes after I left the bookies I was headed for the overland -train. Just as we pulled out, I looked back, proud like a lion, for a -last gloat at Chicago. There, on the platform, was that man Tatum, with -a gang from the stables, acting as though he were looking for someone. -In the front of the mob, shaking his fist and doing the virtuous in a -manner that shocked and wounded, was “Honest Bob.” I took the tip, -dropped off two stations down the line, doubled back on a local to a -child’s size Illinois town, and rusticated there three days. - -I’d had time to think, and this was the way it looked: Where the broad -Pacific blends with the land of freedom and railway prospecti, the -Mistress of the Pacific dreams among her hills. Beneath her shades lie -two universities with building plans and endowments. It occurred to me -that I’d better make two packages of my money. One of nine hundred was -to get me out to San Francisco and show me the town in a manner -befitting my birth and station. The other was to transport me like a -dream through one of the aforesaid universities on a thousand a year, -showing the co-eds what football was like. With my diplomas and press -notices tucked under my arm, I would then report at the residence of -James Wiswell Coffin 2d, at South Framingham, and receive a father’s -blessing. - -By the time I’d landed at this Midway Plaisance and bought a few rags, -the small package looked something like four hundred dollars. It was at -this stage of the game that I met the woman starring as the villainess -in this weird tale. We went out to the Emeryville track together. All of -my four hundred that I didn’t pay for incidentals I lost the first day -out. - -But that makes no never mind, says I to myself; it’s easy to go through -a California university on seven-fifty per, and besides, a college -course ought to be three years instead of four. So I dipped into the big -pile. Let us drop the quick curtain. When it rises I am centre stage in -the Palace Hotel, ninety-dollar overcoats and pin-checked cutaways to -right and left, katzenjammer R. U. E., a week’s board-bill hovering in -the flies above me—and strapped. I gets up, puts my dress-suit into its -case, tucks in a sweater and a bunch of ties, tells the clerk that I am -going away for a day or so, and will leave my baggage until I can come -back and settle, and walks into the cold, wet world. - -The dress-suit brought eight dollars. That fed me and slept me in a -little room on Third Street for a week. After dragging the ties through -every pawn-shop from Tar Flat to the Iron Works, I got a dollar for -them. They cost twenty. Next was the suit-case—two and a half. The third -day after that I had dropped the last cent, and was leaving my lodgings -two jumps ahead of the landlord, a great coarse Swede. - -I hadn’t a thing but the clothes on my back. In a vacant basement of a -house on Folsom Street I found a front step invisible to the naked eye -of the cop on the beat. There I took lodgings. I got two meals by -trading my trousers for a cheaper pair and twenty cents to boot from the -Yiddish man in the shop above. When that was gone I roamed this grand -old city for four days and three nights, and never did such a vulgar -thing as eat. That’s no Child’s Dream of a Star. - -The fourth day was a study in starvation. Dead serious, joshing aside, -that was about as happy a time as I ever put in. I forgot that I was -hungry, and up against the real thing. I saw myself like some other guy -that I had a line on, chasing about ’Frisco in that fix. I myself was -warm and comfortable, and having a dreamy sort of a time wandering -about. - -I was strolling down Kearney Street, listening to the birds singing -through the haze, when something that wore scrambled whiskers and an -ash-barrel hat advised me to go down to Broadway wharf and take a chance -with the fruit bums. He steered me the proper course, and I smoked the -pipe along Broadway. There was the wharf all right, and there was a -whole cargo of bananas being lifted on a derrick and let down. Once in a -while one would drop. The crowd underneath would make a jump and fight -for it. I stood there wondering if I really wanted any bananas, or if it -was worth while to eat, seeing that I’d have to do it again, and was now -pretty well broken of the habit, when a big, scaly bunch got loose from -the stem and began to shake and shiver. I got under it and made a fair -catch, and went through the centre with it the way I used to go through -the Yale Freshmen line. There were seventeen bananas, and I ate them -all. - -Next thing, I began to feel thirsty. So I marched up to that Coggswell -joke on Ben Franklin, somewhere in the dance-hall district, and -foundered myself with water. After that I crawled into a packing-box -back of a wood-yard, and for two days I was as sick as Ham, Shem, and -Japhet the second day out on the Ark. - -When I got better I was hungry again. It was bananas or nothing. I found -them carting off the cargo, and managed to pick up quite a load in one -way or another. After dark I took up two piles and salted them down back -of my packing-box. Next day, pretty weak yet, I stayed at home and ate -bananas. When the new moon shone like a ripe banana-peel in the heavens -of the next night, I never wanted to see a banana as long as I lived. -Nathless, me lieges, they were all that I had. After breakfast next -morning, I shook my clothes out, hid the sweater, and put on my collar -to go downtown. On the way I couldn’t look at the bananas on the -fruit-stands. At the end of the line I bumped into a big yellow building -with arches on its front and a sign out: - -“Football players please see Secretary.” I looked and saw that it was -the Y. M. C. A. “Aha,” says I, “maybe I dine.” - -I sang a good spiel to the Secretary. They were getting up a -light-weight team and wanted talent. Thanking the gods that I was an end -instead of a centre, I spun him some dream about the Harlem Y. M. C. A. -He said report that afternoon. I went back, choked down ten bananas for -strength, and got out on the field in a borrowed suit. They lined up for -only five minutes, but that was time enough for me to show what I could -do. - -I waited after the game to hear someone say training-table, and no one -peeped. I stood around, making myself agreeable, and they said come -around to the Wednesday socials, but no one asked me to say grace at his -humble board. By the time I had washed up and got back home to the -packing-box, I was the owner of such a fifty-horse-power hunger that I -simply _had_ to eat more bananas. I swore then and there that it was my -finish. Why, the taste of them was so strong that my tongue felt like a -banana-peel! - -After dinner I piked back to the Y. M. C. A., seeing that it was my only -opening, and began to study the _Christian Advocate_ in the -reading-room. And the first thing that I saw was a tailor-made that -looked as though it had been ironed on her, and a pair of -coffee-coloured eyes as big as doughnuts. - -As I rubbered at her over the paper I saw her try to open one of the -cases where they kept the silver cups. That was my cue. It wasn’t two -minutes before I was showing her around like a director. I taught her -some new facts about the Y. M. C. A., all right, all right. She was a -_Tribune_ woman doing a write-up, and she caught my game proper. We’d -got to the gym, and I was giving the place all the world’s indoor -athletic records, when she turned those lamps on me and said: - -“You don’t belong here.” - -“I don’t?” says I. “Don’t I strike you for as good a little Y. M. C. -A.’ser as there is in the business?” - -She looked me over as though she were wondering if I was somebody’s -darling, and said in a serious way: - -“My mother and I have supper at home. My brother’s just come on from the -East, and I’d like to have you meet him. Could you join us this -evening?” - -Realising the transparency of that excuse for a lady-like poke-out, I -tried to get haughty and plead a previous engagement, but the taste of -bananas rose up in my mouth and made me half-witted. When we parted she -had me dated and doddering over the prospects. Then I raised my hand to -my chin and felt the stubble. “A shave is next in order,” says I. So I -stood at the door and scanned the horizon. Along comes the football -captain. If he was in the habit of shaving himself, I gambled that I -would dine with a clean face. I made myself as pleasant as possible. -Pretty soon he began to shift feet. - -“Going down the street?” said I. “Well, I’ll walk along.” We got to his -lodgings. “Going in?” said I. “Well, I’d like to see your quarters,” and -I walked in. “Pretty rooms. That’s a nice safety razor you have there. -How do you strop it?” He showed me, kind of wondering, and I said, -“How’s your shaving-soap?” He brought it. “Looks good,” said I, heading -for the washstand. I jerked in a jet of cold water, mixed it up, -lathered my face, and began to shave, handing out chin-music all the -time about Social Settlement work. He said never a word. It was a case -of complete paralysis. When I had finished I begged to be excused. He -hadn’t even the strength to see me to the door. - -Oh, the joy of walking to Jones Street, realising with every step that I -was going to have something to take the taste of bananas out of my -mouth! I got to playing wish with myself. I had just decided on a -tenderloin rare-to-medium, and Bass ale, when I bumped on her house and -the cordial welcome. It was one of those little box flats where the -dining-room opens by a folding-door off the living-room. - -“Can you wait here just a minute?” said the girl with the doughnut orbs, -“I want you to meet my brother.” - -She was gone longer than I expected. She was a thoroughbred to leave -such a hobo as me alone with the silver. It got so that I just had to -look at the scene of the festivities. It was here, all right, a genuine -Flemish quarter-sawed oak dining-table, all set, and me going to have my -first square meal for ten days. About that time I heard two voices in -the back of the house. One was the girl’s; the other was a baritone that -sounded mighty familiar. I explored farther, and the next clew was a -photograph on the mantel that lifted my hair out of its socket. - -It was signed “Your loving brother, John,” and it was the picture of -John Tatum, the manager of Burke’s stables! - -I saw my dinner dwindling in the distance. I saw myself breakfasting on -bananas, and says I, “Not on your hard luck.” I wouldn’t swipe the -silver, but, by all the gods of hunger, if there was a scrap to eat in -that dining-room I was going to have it. I ran through the sideboard; -nothing but salt, pepper, vinegar, and mustard. China closet; nothing -but dishes. There was only one more place in the whole room where grub -could be kept. That was a sort of ticket-window arrangement in the far -corner. Footsteps coming; “Last chance,” says I, and breaks for it like -a shot. I grabbed the handle and tore it open. - -And there was a large, fine plate of rich, golden, mealy bananas! - - - - - CHAPTER III - PROFESSOR VANGO - - -“Yer was mixed up in a narsty piece o’ business,” said Coffee John, -after the Freshman had concluded his tale, “an’ it strikes me as yer -gort wot yer bloomin’ well desarved. I don’t rightly know w’ether yer -expect us to larff or to cry, but I’m inclined to fyver a grin w’erever -possible, as ’elpin’ the appetite an’ thereby bringin’ in tryde. So I -move we accept the kid’s apology for bein’ farnd in me shop, an’ perceed -with the festivities o’ the evenink. I see our friend ’ere with the long -finger-nails is itchin’ to enliven the debyte, an’ I’m afryde if we -don’t let ’im ’ave ’is sye art, ’e’ll bloomin’ well bust with it.” - -He looked the thin, black-eyed stranger over calmly and judicially. -“You’ll be one as lives by ’is wits, an’ yet more from the lack of ’em -in other people, especially femyles,” the proprietor declared. “Yer one -o’ ten tharsand in this tarn as picks up easy money, if so be they’s no -questions arsked. But if I ain’t mistook, yer’ve come a cropper, an’ yer -ain’t much used to sweatin’ for yer salary. But that don’t explyne w’y -yer ’ad to tumble into this plyce like the devil was drivin’ yer, an’ -put darn a swig o’ ’ot coffee to drarn yer conscience, like. Clay Street -wa’n’t afire, nor yet in no dynger o’ bein’ flooded, so I’m switched if -I twig yer gyme!” - -“Well, I _have_ got a conscience,” began the stranger, “though I’m no -worse than many what make simulations to be better, and I never give -nobody nothin’ they didn’t want, and wasn’t willin’ to pay for, and why -shouldn’t I get it as well as any other party? Seein’ you don’t know any -of the parties, and with the understandin’ that all I say is in -confidence between friends, professional like, I’ll tell you the -misfortunes that have overcame me.” So he began - - - THE STORY OF THE EX-MEDIUM - -I am Professor Vango, trance, test, business, materialisin’, -sympathetic, harmonic, inspirational, and developin’ medium, and -independent slate-writer. Before I withdrew from the profession, them as -I had comforted and reunited said that I was by far the best in -existence. My tests was of the sort that gives satisfaction and -convinces even the most sceptical. My front parlor was thronged every -Sunday and Tuesday evenin’ with ladies, the most genteel and elegant, -and gentlemen. - -When I really learned my powers, I was a palm and card reader. Madame -August, the psychic card-reader and Reno Seeress, give me the advice -that put me in communication. She done it after a joint readin’ we give -for the benefit of the Astral Seers’ Protective Union. - -“Vango,” she says—I was usin’ the name “Vango” already; it struck me as -real tasty—“Vango,” she says, “you’re wastin’ your talents. These is the -days when men speak by inspiration. You got genius; but you ain’t no -palmist.” - -“Why ain’t I?” I says, knowin’ all the time that they was somethin’ -wrong; “don’t I talk as good as any?” - -“You’re a genius,” says she, “and you lead where others follow; your -idea of tellin’ every woman that she can write stories if she tries is -one of the best ever conceived, but if you don’t mind me sayin’ it, as -one professional to another, it’s your face that’s wrong.” - -“My face?” says I. - -“Your face and your hands and your shape and the balance of your -physicality,” says she. “They want big eyes—brown is best, but blue will -do—and lots of looks and easy love-makin’ ways that you can hang a past -to, and I’m frank to say that you ain’t got ’em. You _have_ got platform -talents, and you’ll be a phenomena where you can’t get near enough to -’em to hold hands. Test seances is the future of this business. Take a -few developin’ sittin’s and you’ll see.” - -For the time, disappointment and chagrin overcome me. Often and often -since, I have said that sorrow is a means of development for a party. -That’s where I learnt it. Next year I was holdin’ test seances in my own -room and makin’ spirit photographs with my pardner for ample -renumeration. Of course, I made my mistakes, but I can assert without -fear of successful contradiction that I brought true communication as -often as any of ’em. - -Once I sized up a woman that wore black before I had asked the usual -questions—which is a risky thing to do, and no medium that values a -reputation will attempt it—and told her about her husband that had -passed out and give a message, and she led me on and wrote me up for -them very papers that I was advertisin’ in and almost ruined my -prospecks. You get such scoffers all the time, only later on you learn -to look out and give ’em rebukes from the spirits. It ain’t no use -tryin’ to get ahead of us, as I used to tell the people at my seances -that thought I was a collusion, because they’ve only got theirselves; -but we’ve got ourselves and the spirits besides. - -It wasn’t long in the course of eventualities before I was ordained by -the Spirit Psychic Truth Society, and elected secretary of the union, -and gettin’ my percentages from test and trance meetin’s at Pythian -Hall. I was popular with the professionals, which pays, because mediums -as a class is a little nervous, and—not to speak slanderous of a -profession that contains some of the most gifted scientists—a set of -knockers. - -Only I wasn’t satisfied. I was ambitious in them days, and I wanted to -make my debut in materialisin’, which takes a hall of your own and a -apparatus and a special circle for the front row, but pays heavy on the -investment. Try every way I could, with developin’ circles and private -readin’s and palms extra, I could never amass the funds for one -first-class spirit and a cabinet, which ought to be enough to start on. -Then one night—it was a grand psychic reunion and reception to our -visitin’ brothers from Portland—_She_ come to the circle. - -Our publication—I united with my other functionaries that of assistant -editor of _Unseen Hands_—stigmatised it afterward as the grandest -demonstration of hidden forces ever seen on this hemisphere. It was the -climax to my career. I was communicatin’ beautiful, and fortune favoured -my endeavours. When I pumped ’em, they let me see that which they had -concealed, and when I guessed I guessed with amazin’ accuracy. I told a -Swede all about his sweetheart on the other plane, and the colour of her -hair, and how happy she was, and how it was comin’ out all right, and -hazarded that her name was Tina, and guessed right the first trial. I -recollect I was tellin’ him he was a physie, and didn’t he sometimes -feel a influence he couldn’t account for, and hadn’t he ever tried to -establish communication with them on the spirit plane, and all he needed -was a few developin’ sittin’s—doin’ it neat an’ professional, you know, -and all of the other mediums on the platform acquiescin’—when a woman -spoke up from the back of the room. That was the first time that ever I -seen her. - -She was a middle-sized, fairish sort of a woman, in mournin’, which I -hadn’t comprehended, or I’d ’a’ found the article that she sent up for -me to test her influence, long before. As soon as she spoke, I knew -she’d come to be comforted. She was a tidy sort of a woman, and her eyes -was dark, sort of between a brown and a black. Her shape was nice and -neat, and she had a straightish sort of a nose, with a curve into it. -She was dead easy. I seen that she had rings on her fingers and was -dressed real tasty, and right there it come to me, just like my control -sent it, that a way was openin’ for me to get my cabinet and a stock of -spirits. - -“Will you please read my article?” she says. Bein’ against the æsthetics -of the profession to let a party guide you like that, Mrs. Schreiber, -the Egyptian astral medium, was for rebukin’ her. I superposed, because -I seen my cabinet growin’. - -“I was strongly drawed to the token in question,” I says, and then Mrs. -Schreiber, who was there to watch who sent up what, motioned me to a -locket on the table. - -“When I come into the room, I seen this party with a sweet influence -hoverin’ over her. Ain’t it a little child?” Because by that time I had -her sized up. - -I seen her eyes jump the way they always do when you’re guided right, -and I knowed I’d touched the achin’ spot. While I was tellin’ her about -my control and the beautiful light that was hoverin’ over her, I palmed -and opened the locket. I got the picture out—they’re all alike, them -lockets—and behind it was a curl of gold hair and the name “Lillian.” I -got the locket back on the table, and the spirits guided me to it for -her test. When I told her that the spirit callin’ for her was happy in -that brighter sphere and sent her a kiss, and had golden hair, and was -called “Lillian” in the flesh plane, she was more overcame than I ever -seen a party at a seance. I told her she was a medium. I could tell it -by the beautiful dreams she had sometimes. - -Right here, Mrs. Schreiber shook her head, indicatin’ that I was -travellin’ in a dangerous direction. Developin’ sittin’s is saved for -parties when you can’t approach ’em on the departed dear ones. In cases -like the one under consideration, the most logical course, you -comprehend, is to give private test sittin’s. But I knowed what I was -doin’. I told her I could feel a marvellous power radiate from her, and -her beautiful dreams was convincin’ proof. She expressed a partiality to -be developed. - -When I got her alone in the sittin’, holdin’ her hand and gettin’ her to -concentrate on my eyes, she made manifest her inmost thoughts. She was a -widow runnin’ a lodgin’-house. Makin’ a inference from her remarks, I -seen that she hadn’t no money laid by, but only what she earned from her -boarders. The instalment plan was better than nothin’. She seized on the -idea that I could bring Lillian back if I had proper conditions to work -with. In four busy weeks, I was enabled by her magnanimity to open a -materialisin’ circle of my own, with a cabinet and a self-playin’ guitar -and four good spirit forms. I procured the cabinet second-hand, which -was better, because the joints worked easier, and I sent for the spirits -all the way to a Chicago dealer to get the best. They had luminous forms -and non-duplicated faces, that convinced even the most sceptical. The -firm very liberally throwed in a slate trick for dark cabinets and the -Fox Sisters’ rappin’ table. - -I took one of them luminous forms, the littlest one, and fixed it with -golden curls painted phosphorescent. Mrs. Schreiber and the rest, all -glad to be partakers in my good fortune, was hired to come on the front -seats and join hands with each other across the aisle whenever one of -the spirits materialised too far forward toward the audience. We -advertised heavy, and the followin’ Sunday evenin’ had the gratification -to greet a numerous and cultured assemblage. I was proud and happy, -because steppin’ from plain test control to materialisin’ is a great -rise for any medium. - -Mrs. Higgins—that was her name, Mrs. Clarissa Higgins—come early all -alone. I might ’a’ brought Lillian right away, only that would be -inelegant. First we sang, “Show Your Faces,” to get the proper psychie -current of mutuality. Etherealisin’ and a few tunes on a floatin’ guitar -was next. When my control reassured itself, I knowed that the time had -came, and let out the first spirit. A member of the Spirit Truth Society -on the front seat recognised it for a dear one, and carried on real -realistic and natural. I let it vanish. The next one was Little Hookah, -the spirit of the Egyptian dancer, that used to regale the Pharaohs in -the depths of the Ghizeh pyramid. I touched off a music-box to accompany -her for a skirt-dance with her robes. I done that all myself; it was a -little invention of my own, and was recognised with universal -approbation. - -That was the time for Lillian to manifest herself, and I done it -artistic. First she rapped and conversed with me in the spirit whisper -back of the curtains. You could hear Mrs. Higgins in the audience -drawin’ in her breath sort of awesome. - -I says for the spirit, in a little pipin’ voice, “Tell mamma not to -mourn, because her lamentations hinders my materialisation. The birds is -singin’, and it is, oh, so beautiful on this shore.” - -Then commandin’ the believers on the front seats to join hands in a -circle of mutuality, in order to assist the sister on the other shore to -put on the astral symbols of the flesh, I materialised her nice and easy -and gradual. - -We was prepared for demonstrations on the part of Mrs. Higgins, so when -she advanced I began to let it vanish, and the psychie circle of clasped -hands stopped her while I done the job up good and complete. She lost -conscientiousness on the shoulder of Mrs. Schreiber. - -Not borin’ you, gentlemen, with the details of my career, my business -and religious relations with Mrs. Higgins was the beginnin’ of my -success. Myself and the little circle of believers—that guarded the -front seats from the protrusions of sceptical parties that come to -scoff, and not infrequent come up as earnest inquirers after my control -had passed—we lived easy on the proceeds. - -Mrs. Higgins would bring tears to your eyes, she was that grateful. She -repaired the place for me so it was the envy of the unsuccessful in the -profession. She had it fixed with stucco like a grotto, and wax calla -lilies and mottoes and beautiful spirit paintin’s (Mrs. Schreiber done -them out of the air while she was under control—a hundred dollars apiece -she charged), and nice curtains over the cabinet, embroidered in snakes’ -eyes inside of triangles and discobuluses. Mrs. Higgins capitalised the -expense. Whenever we done poor business, we originated some new -manifestations for Mrs. Higgins. She received ample renumeration. She -seen Lillian every Tuesday and Sunday. Very semi-occasionally, when the -planetary conditions favoured complete manifestation, I used to let her -hug Lillian and talk to her. That was a tremendous strain, involvin’ the -use of ice to produce the proper degree of grave cold, and my blood -nearly conglomerated whenever circumstances rendered it advisable. - -All human relationships draws to a close in time. After seven years of -the most ideal communications between myself and Mrs. Higgins and the -rest of the Psychic Truth Society, they came a time one evenin’ when I -seen she was missin’. Next day, we received a message that she was -undisposed. We sent Madam La Farge, the medical clairvoyant, to give her -treatment, and word come back that them designin’ relatives, that always -haunt the last hours of the passin’ spirit with mercenary entreaties, -had complete domination over her person. I visited to console her -myself, and was rebuked with insinuations that was a insult to my -callin’. The next day we learned that she had passed out. We was not -even admitted to participate in the funeral obsequies. - -The first Sunday that she was in the spirit Mrs. Schreiber was all for -materialisin’ her. I favoured omittin’ her, thinkin’ it would be more -fittin’, you understand, and more genteel. But we had some very wealthy -sceptics in the circle we was tryin’ to convince, and Mrs. Schreiber -said they’d expect it. Against my better counsels, seein’ that Mrs. -Higgins was a mighty fine woman and give me my start, and I got a -partiality for her, I took down my best spirit form and broadened it -some, because Mrs. Higgins had got fleshy before she passed out. - -After Little Hookah done her regular dance that Sunday night, I got the -hymn started, and announcin’ that the spirit that rapped was a dear one -known to ’em all, I pulled out the new form that I had just fixed, and -waited for the tap on the cabinet to show that all was ready. I didn’t -like to do it. I felt funny, like something would go wrong. But I pulled -the string, and then—O God!—there—in the other corner of the cabinet—was -Mrs. Higgins—Mrs. Higgins holdin’ her arm across the curtains and just -lookin’ at me like her eyes was tearin’ through me! - -They seen somethin’ was wrong, and Mrs. Schreiber got the robe away -before they found me—they said my control was too strong—and some said I -was drunk. I did get drunk, too, crazy drunk, next day—and when I come -round Mrs. Schreiber tried to do cabinet work with me on the front -seat—and there I seen _her_—in her corner—just like she used to sit—and -I never went back. - -But a man has got to eat, and when my money was gone, and I wasn’t so -scared as I was at first, I tried to do test seances, sayin’ to myself -maybe she wouldn’t mind that—and the first article I took up, there she -was in the second row, holdin’—oh, I couldn’t get away of it—holdin’ a -locket just like she done the first night I seen her. - -Then I knew I’d have to quit, and I hid from the circle—they wanted me -because Mrs. Schreiber couldn’t make it go. I slept in the Salvation -Army shelter, so as not to be alone, and she let me be for a while. - -But to-day I seen a party in the street that I used to give tests to, -and he said he’d give me two bits to tell him about his mine—and I was -so broke and hungry, I give it a trial and—there _She_ was—in the shadow -by the bootblack awnin’—just lookin’ and lookin’! - - * * * * * - -The little medium broke off with a tremor that made the glasses shake. - - - - - CHAPTER IV - ADMEH DRAKE - - -“I expeck yer cut off yer own nose, all right,” said Coffee John. “If -the sperits of the dead do return, an’ I was to come along with ’em, it -seems to me I’d plye Mrs. ’Iggin’s gyme, an’ run abart a million o’ -shyster ghost-raisers art o’ business in this city. I see their notices -in the dyly pypers, an’ it feerly mykes a man sick. The more you show -’em up, the more the people come to be gulled. ’Uman nychur is certingly -rum. Lord love yer, I’ve been to ’em, an’ I’ve been told my nyme was -Peter, wa’nt it? an’ if not Peter, Hennery; an’ didn’t I ’ave a -gryte-gran’father wot died? So I did, an’ I’m jolly glad ’e ain’t lived -to be a hundred an’ forty neither! W’y is it thet the sperit of a decent -Gawd-fearink woman wants to get familiar with a bloke wot wipes ’is nose -on ’is arm-sleeve an’ chews terbacker? It’s agin reason an’ nature, an’ -I don’t go a cent on it. It’s enough to myke a man commit murder coupled -with improper lengwidge!” - -He turned to the third man, who had made no comments on the stories. -“You’re one as ’as loved an’ lost,” he said. “Yer look like one as is a -lion with men an’ a bloomin’ mouse with women. You don’t cyre w’ether -school keeps or not, you don’t, an’ I’m wonderin’ why. I don’t just like -yer turnin’ yer back on Dewey, though plenty o’ Spanishers ’ave felt the -syme wye. Yer gort a fist as could grip a gun-stock, an’ an eye wot -ain’t afryde to look a man in the fyce, if yer do keep ’em behind specs. -If yer can give a good reason for turnin’ Dewey to the wall, nar’s the -charnce!” - -The man with glasses had not winced at the plain language, nor -apologised as the medium had done. He looked up and said: - -“All right, pardner, if you’ll stand for it, I’ll tell you the truth, -right out.” And with this he began - - - THE STORY OF THE HERO OF PAGO BRIDGE - -My name is Admeh Drake. Mine ain’t a story-book yarn like yours, -pardner, or a tale of spooks and phantoms, like yours. You can get away -from ghosts when there’s other people around or it’s daylight, but -there’s some things that you can’t get away from in a thousand years, -daylight or dark. - -A fellow that I knew from the PL outfit loaned me a story-book once by -“The Duchess,” that said something like this, only in story-book -language: - -“A woman is the start and finish of all our troubles.” - -I always remembered that. It was a right nice idea. Many and many’s the -time that, thinking over my troubles and what brought me to this elegant -feed—say, I could drink a washtub full of that new-fangled coffee—I’ve -remembered those sentiments. Susie Latham, that is the finest lady in -the White River country, she was the start and finish of my troubles. - -Ever since we were both old enough to chew hay, Susie and I travelled as -a team. The first time that ever I shone in society, I did it with Susie -by my side. It was right good of her to go with me, seeing that I was -only bound-boy to old man Mullins, who brought me up and educated me, -and Susie’s father kept a store. But then we were too little to care -about such things, me being eleven and Susie nine. It was the mum social -of the First Baptist Church that I took her to. You know the sort? When -the boss Sunday-school man gives the signal, you clap the stopper on -your jaw-tackle and get fined a cent a word if you peep. Susie knew well -enough that I had only five cents left after I got in, so what does she -do but go out and sit on the porch while the talk is turned off, so that -she wouldn’t put me in the hole. When they passed the grab-bag, I blew -in the nickel. I got a kid brass ring with a red glass front and gave it -to her. I said that it was for us to get married when we grew up. - -“Why, Admeh Drake, I like your gall,” she said, but she took it just the -same. After that, Susie was my best girl, and I was her beau. I licked -every fellow that said she wasn’t pretty, and she stuck out her tongue -to every girl that tried to joke me because I was old Mullins’s -bound-boy. We graduated from Striped Rock Union High-school together. -That was where I spent the happy hours running wild among the flowers in -my boyhood’s happy home down on the farm. After that, she went to -teaching school, and I struck first principles and punched cattle down -on old Mullins’s XQX ranch. Says I to myself, I’ll have an interest here -myself some time, and then married I’ll be to Susie if she’ll but name -the day. I had only six months before I was to be out of bound to old -Mullins. - -Being a darn-fool kid, I let it go at that, and wrote to her once in a -while and got busy learning to punch cattle. Lord love you, I didn’t -have much to learn, because I was raised in the saddle. There were none -of them better than me if I did have a High-School education. My eyes -had gone bad along back while I was in the High-school, calling for -spectacles. When I first rode in gig-lamps, they used to josh me, but -when I got good with the rope and shot off-hand with the best and took -first prize for busting broncos Fourth of July at Range City, they -called me the “Four-eyed Cow-puncher,” and I was real proud of it. I -wish it was all the nickname I ever had. “The Hero of Pago Bridge”—I -wish to God—— - -The XQX is seventy miles down the river from Striped Rock. Seventy miles -ain’t such a distance in Colorado, only I never went back for pretty -near two years and a half. Then, one Christmas when we were riding -fences—keeping the line up against the snow, and running the cattle back -if they broke the wires and got across—I got to thinking of the holiday -dances at Striped Rock, and says I: “Here’s for a Christmas as near home -as I can get, and a sight of Susie.” - -The boss let me off, and I made it in on Christmas Eve. The dance was -going on down at Foresters’ Hall. I fixed up and took it in. - -And there she was—I didn’t know her for the start she’d got. Her -hair—that she used to wear in two molassesy-coloured braids hanging down -her back, and shining in the sun the way candy shines when you pull -it—was done up all over her head. She was all pinky and whitey in the -face the way she used to be when she was a little girl. She had on a -sort of pink dress, mighty pretty, with green wassets down the front and -a green dingbat around the bottom, and long—not the way it was when I -saw her before. She was rushed to the corner with every geezer in the -place piled in front of her. I broke into the bunch. Everybody seemed to -see me except Susie. She treated me like any other maverick in the herd. -She hadn’t even a dance left for me. Once, in “Old Dan Tucker,” she -called me out, but she’d called out every other tarantula in the White -River country, so there was no hope in that. If ever a man didn’t know -where he was at, I was the candidate. - -All that winter, riding the fence, I thought and thought. I’d been so -dead sure of her that I was letting her go. Here was the principal of -the High-school, and young Mullins that worked in the Rancher’s Bank, -and Biles that owned stock in the P L, all after her, like broncos after -a marked steer, and I was only the “Four-eyed Cow-puncher,” thirty -dollars and found. And I got bluer than the light on the snow. And then -says I to myself, if she ain’t married when spring melts, by the Lord, -I’ll have her. - -I’m one of those that ain’t forgetting the sixteenth of February, 1898. -Storm over, and me mighty glad of it. Snow all around, except where the -line of fence-rails peeked through, and the sun just blinding. I on the -bronco breaking through the crust, feeling mighty good both of us. Down -in a little _arroyo_, where a creek ran in summer, was the end of my -run. Away off in the snow, I saw Billy Taylor, my side-partner, waving -his hand like he was excited. I pounded my mule on the back. - -“The Maine’s blown up,” he yells. “The Maine’s blown up!” - -“The what?” says I, not understanding. - -“The Maine—Havana Harbour—war sure!” he says. I tumbled off in the snow -while he chucked me down a bunch of Denver papers. There it was. I went -as _loco_ as Billy. Before I got back to camp, I had it all figured -out—what I ought to do. I got to the foreman before noon and drew my -pay, and left him cussing. Lickety-split, the cayuse—he was mine—got me -to the station. I figured that the National Guard would be the first to -go, and I figured right. So I telegraphed to old Captain Fletcher of -Company N at Range City: “Have you got room for me?” And he answered me, -knowing just how I stood on the ranches, “Yes. Can you raise me twenty -men to fill my company?” He didn’t need to ask for men; there were -plenty of them anxious enough to go, but he did need the sort of men I’d -get him. Snow be darned, I rode for four days signing up twenty -hellaroos that would leave the Rough Riders standing. Into Range City I -hustled them. There we waited on the town, doing nothing but live on our -back pay and drill while we waited, nineteen for glory and Spanish -blood, and me for glory and the girl. - -Congress got a move on at last, though we thought it never would, and -the Colorado National Guard was accepted, enlisting as a body. When we -were in camp together and the medical inspector went around thumping -chests, the captain gave him a little song about my eyes. “He can’t see -without his glasses,” says Captain Fletcher, “but he can shoot all right -with them on. And he raised my extra men, and he’s a soldier.” - -The doctor says, “Well, I’m getting forgetful in my age, and maybe I’ll -forget the eye-test.” Which he did as he said. - -After that was Dewey and Manila Bay, and the news that the Colorado -Volunteers were going to be sent to the Philippines, which everybody had -studied about in the geography but nobody remembered, except that they -were full of Spaniards just dying to be lambasted. - -We got going at last, muster at Denver, and they gave us a Sunday off to -see our folks. You better believe I took an early train for Striped -Rock—and Susie. A hundred and five miles it was, and the trains running -so that I had just two hours and twenty-five minutes in the place. - -Susie wasn’t at home, nor any of the Lathams. They were all in church at -the Baptist meetinghouse where I gave her the grab-bag ring for kid fun. -I went over there and peeked in the door. A new sky-pilot was in the -pulpit, just turned loose on his remarks. Sizing him up, I saw that he -was a stem-winding, quarter-hour striking, eight-day talker that would -swell up and bust if he wasn’t allowed to run down. In the third row, I -saw Susie’s hair. There I’d come a hundred miles and more to say good-by -to her, and only two hours to spare; and there that preacher was taking -my time, the time that I’d enlisted to fight three years for. It was -against nature, so I signalled to the usher and told him that Miss Susie -Latham was wanted at home on important business. - -The usher was one of the people that are born clumsy. The darn fool, -instead of going up and prodding her shoulder and getting her out sort -of quiet, went up and told the regular exhorter who was sitting up on -the platform; and the regular, instead of putting him on, told the -visiting preacher. The old geezer was deaf. - -“How thankful we should be, my brethren, that this hopeless eternity—” -he was saying, when the regular parson broke out of his high-back chair -and tapped him on the broadcloth and began to whisper. - -“Hey?” says the stranger. - -“Miss Susie Latham,” says the regular preacher, between a whisper and a -holler. - -“What about her?” - -“Wanted at home,” so that you could hear him all through the church. - -“Oh!” says the parson. “Brothers and sisters, I am requested to announce -that Miss Susie Latham is wanted at home on important business—that this -hopeless eternity is set as a guide to our feet—” and all the rest of -the spiel. And me feeling as comfortable as a lost heifer in a -blizzard—forty kinds of a fool. - -She came down the aisle, looking red and white by turns, with all the -people necking her way. Before I’d got time to explain why I did it, her -mother got nervous, thinking there must be some trouble, and came -trailing out after her. Then her kid sister couldn’t stand the strain, -and followed suit. - -That family reunion on the porch spoiled all the chance that I had to -see Susie alone, because when they heard why I came, and how I was going -to be Striped Rock’s hero, they were for giving me a Red Cross reception -then and there. Only two hours more until train time, and the old lady -had to rush me down to the house for lunch—and me with the rest of my -life to eat in! - -But I shook her and the kid sister at last, and got Susie alone. I tried -to tell her—and I couldn’t. I could say that I was going to do my best -and maybe die for my country, and there I stalled and balked, her -looking the other way all pretty and pink, and giving me not a word -either way to bless myself with. Says I finally: - -“And if I come back, I suppose that you’ll be married, Susie?” and she -says: - -“No, I don’t think that I’ll be married when you come back; I don’t -think that I’ll ever marry unless he’s a man that I can be proud of.” - -Then she looked at me, her big eyes filling—her big eyes, coloured like -the edge of the mountains after sunset. I’ve figured it out since that -she was more than half proud of me already—me, in a clean, blue suit, -and the buttons shiny; me, a ten-cent, camp volunteer. And then the old -woman broke in with a bottle of Eilman’s Embrocation for use in camp. - -Never another chance had I that side of the station. Of course, she -kissed good-by, but that’s only politeness for soldiers. They all did -that. So, although it was just like heaven, I knew that it didn’t mean -anything particular from her, because her mother did it and her sister, -and pretty darned near every other girl in Striped Rock, seeing that the -news about having a real hero in town had spread. - -Only, when we pulled away and I was leaning out of the window blowing -kisses, being afraid to blow at Susie in special because I didn’t like -to give myself away, she ran out of the crowd a ways and held up her -little finger to show me something over the knuckle, and pulled her hand -in quick as if nothing had happened. It was the play kid-ring that I -gave her out of the grab-bag, to show that I was going to marry her when -I grew up. - -That was the last sight of Striped Rock that I got—Susie waving at the -station as far as I could see her. It made you feel queer to ride past -the fences and the bunch-grass and the foot-hills getting grayey-green -with sage-brush, and the mountains away off, all snowy on top, and know -that chances were you’d never see them again grayey. And I won’t, I -won’t—never again. - -Muster at Denver, and the train, and away we went, packed like a herd -around salt, and the towns just black, like a steer in fly-time, with -people coming out to see us pass, and Red Cross lunches every time the -train had to stop for water; next ’Frisco and Camp Merritt. The first -time that I saw this town, gray all over like a sage-hill, made out of -crazy bay-window houses with fancy-work down the front, I knew that -something was going skewgee. - -The night before we went up for our final medical examination by the -regular army surgeon, Captain Fletcher called me into his tent. - -“Drake, how about your eyes?” says he. - -I hadn’t thought of that, supposing that it could be fixed the same as -it was at Range City. I told him so, and he said it couldn’t, not with -the regular army surgeons. But says he: - -“You’re a good soldier, and I got you to raise my reserves. They won’t -let you in if you can’t pass the eye-test, glasses or no glasses. If it -should happen that you learned a little formula that tallies with the -eye-card, you wouldn’t let on that I gave it to you, I suppose?” - -“I’m good at forgetting,” I says. - -“Burn it when you’ve learned it,” he says, and he gave me a paper with -long strings of letter on it. I learned it backward and forward, and so -on that I could begin in the middle and go both ways. I lay awake half -the night saying it over. - -Naked as I was born, I floated in on the examiners for my physicals. -Lungs, as they make them in the cow-country; weight, first-class; -hearing, O. K. They whirled me and began to point. Taking a tight -squint—you see better that way—I ripped through the formula: -P V X C L M N H—I can see it yet. I could just see what line on the card -he was pointing at, and never a darned bit more. - -They make that sort of a doctor in hell. He saw me squint—and he began -skipping from letter to letter all over the card. No use—I guessed and -guessed dead wrong. “Rejected!” just businesslike, as if it was a little -matter like a job on a hay-press. I went out and sat all naked on my -soldier-clothes—my soldier-clothes that I was never going to wear any -more—and covered up my head. It was the hardest jolt that I ever -got—except one. - -Captain Fletcher hadn’t any pull; he couldn’t do anything. Some of the -twenty that I rounded into Range City talked about striking, they were -so mad, but that wouldn’t do any good. I watched them sworn in next day, -shuffling into the armory in new overall clothes. I stood around camp -and saw them drill. I saw them go down the streets to the -transport—flowers in their gun-barrels, wreaths on their hats, and the -people just whooping. I sneaked after them onto the transport, and there -I broke out and cussed the regular army and everything else. Old -Fletcher saw it. He wasn’t sore; he understood. But I wish I had killed -him before I let him do what he did next. He said: - -“He can’t be with us, boys, and it ain’t his fault. But Striped Rock is -going to have its hero. I am going to be correspondent for the Striped -Rock _Leader_. If we have the luck to get into a fight, he’ll be the -hero in my piece in the paper, and the man that gives away the snap -ain’t square with Company N. Here’s three cheers for Admeh Drake, the -hero of Company N!” he said. When they pulled out, people were cheering -them and they cheering me. It heartened me up considerably, or else I -couldn’t have stood to see them sliding past Telegraph Hill into the -stream and me not there with them. - -First, I was for writing to Susie and telling her all about it, but I -just couldn’t. I put it off, saying that I’d go back and tell her all -about it myself, and I went to mooning around camp like a ghost. And -then along came a copy of the _Leader_ that settled it. All about the -big feed that they gave the regiment at Honolulu, and how Admeh Drake -had responded for the men of Company N. Captain Fletcher was getting in -his deadly work. It said that I was justly popular, and my engagement to -one of Striped Rock’s fairest daughters was whispered. It treated me -like I was running for Congress on the _Leader_ ticket. I began to -wonder if I saw a way to Susie. - -After they got to the Islands, I dragged the cascos through the surf and -rescued a squad of Company N from drowning. All that was in the -_Leader_. The night they scrapped in front of the town, I stood and -cheered on a detachment when they faltered before the foe. After they -got to Manila and did nothing but lay around, Captain Fletcher had me -rescue a man from a fire. - -After that, I began to get next to myself, knowing that I’d have done -best to stop it at the start and go straight back to Striped Rock. I’d -been a darned fool to put it off so long. Now I could never go back and -face the joshing. I wrote the captain a letter about it, and he never -paid any attention. Instead of that, he sent me back a bunch of her -letters. Knowing how things stood, what I was doing and what she thought -that I was doing, I could hardly open them. They made me feel as small -as buckshot in a barrel. They hinted about being proud of me—and prayed -that I’d come home alive—and I knew, in spite of being ashamed, that I -had her. - -Next thing, the natives got off the reservation. There’s where Captain -Fletcher went clean, plumb _loco_. One day the _Leader_ came out with -circus scare-heads about the “Hero of Pago Bridge.” They printed my -biography and a picture of me. It didn’t look like me, but it was a nice -picture. I’d broke through a withering fire and carried a Kansas -lieutenant across to safety after he had been helplessly wounded—and -never turned a hair. - -What was I doing all that time? Laying pretty low. I was afraid to leave -town because I wanted to keep an eye on the _Leader_, which was coming -regularly to the Public Library, and afraid to get a regular daylight -job for fear that somebody from Striped Rock would come along and see -me. I was nearly busted when I ran onto old Doctor Morgan, the Indian -Root Specialist. He gave me a job as his outside man. All I had to do -was to hang around watching for sick-looking strays from the country. -You know the lay. I told them how Doctor Morgan had cured me of the same -lingering disease and how I was a well man, thanks to his secrets, -babying them along kind of easy until they went to the doctor. He did -the rest, and I collected twenty-five per cent. - -Striped Rock acted as though I was the mayor. They named their new -boulevard Drake Way. Come Fourth of July, they set me up alongside of -Lincoln. They talked about running me for the Assembly. There came -another bunch of her letters—I had answered the last lot that Cap sent, -mailed them all the way to the Philippines, to be forwarded just to gain -time—they were heaven mixed with hell. - -The regiment was coming back in a week, and then I began to think it -over and cuss myself harder than ever for a natural-born fool that -didn’t have enough sand to throw up the game at first and go home and -face the music. It was too late then, and I couldn’t go back to Striped -Rock and take all the glory that was coming to me and face Susie knowing -that I was a fake. Besides, I knew the boys from Range City were liable -to go up to Striped Rock any time and tell the whole story, and it froze -me, inside. I didn’t know what to do, but the first thing that I had on -hand was to catch them at the dock and tell them all that it meant to me -and get them to promise that they wouldn’t tell. Whether I’d dare to go -back and try to get Susie, I couldn’t even think. - -I threw up my job with the doctor and went down to the transport office -to see just when they expected the boys. Little house on the dock; -little hole rooms that you could scarcely turn around in. They said that -the boss transport man was in the next room. I walked in. - -There—face to face—was Susie—Susie, pinky and whitey, her eyes just -growing and growing. I couldn’t turn, I couldn’t run, I could just hang -tight onto the door-knob and study the floor. The transport man went out -and left us alone. - -And she said: - -“Admeh Drake, _what_ are you?” - -My inwards, me saying nothing all the time, said that I was a fool and a -thief and a liar. I could have lied, told her that I came home ahead of -the regiment, if it had been anyone but Susie. But I told her the truth, -bellowed it out,—because my soul was burned paper. - -“I came out to see you come back,” she said, and then: - -“I thought that I could be proud of you.” Never another word she said, -and she never looked at me again, but she threw out her hand all of a -sudden and something dropped. It was the play kid-ring I gave her the -night that I wish I had died. - -I tried to talk; I tried to hold the door; I might as well have tried to -talk to the wall. The last I saw of her, the last that ever I will see, -was her molassesy-gold hair going out of the big gate. - -I spilled out over the transport man and—O God—how I cried! I ain’t -ashamed of it. You’d have cried, too. After that—I don’t know what I -did. I walked over a bigger patch of hell than any man ever did alone. -But the regiment’s come and gone and never found me, and I don’t know -why I ain’t dead along with my insides. - -And they mustered out at Denver, and the boys split up and went home. -Company N went back to Range City—cottonwoods shedding along the creeks, -ranges all white on top, sagey smell off the foot-hills, people riding -and driving in from the ranches by hundreds to see them and cheer them -and feed them and hug them—but there wasn’t any hero for Striped Rock, -because he had bad eyes and was a darn fool—a darn fool! - - - - - CHAPTER V - THE DIMES OF COFFEE JOHN - - -“Well,” said the Harvard Freshman, after the last tale was told, “I’m -dead broke, and my brain seems to have gone out of business.” - -“I’m broke, and my heart’s broke, too,” said the Hero of Pago Bridge. - -“I’m broke, similar,” said the ex-medium, “and my nerves is a-sufferin’ -from a severe disruption.” - -Coffee John thumped his red fist upon the table. - -“Bryce up, gents!” he exclaimed. “Remember there’s nothink in the ryce -but the finish, as the dark ’orse says, w’en ’e led ’em up to the wire! -They’s many a man ’as went broke in this ’ere tarn, an’ ’as lived to -build a four-story ’ouse in the Western Addition; an’ they’s plenty more -as will go broke afore the trams stop runnin’ on Market Street! This -’ere is a city o’ hextremes, you tyke me word for thet! It ain’t on’y -that Chinatarn is a stone’s throw from the haristocracy o’ Nob Hill, an’ -they’s a corner grocery with a side entrance alongside of every Methody -chapel. It ain’t on’y that the gals here is prettier an’ homblier, an’ -stryter an’ wickeder than anyw’eres else in Christendom, but things go -up an’ darn every other wye a man can nyme. It’s corffee an’ sinkers -to-dye an’ champyne an’ terrapin to-morrer for ’arf the people what hits -the village. They’s washwomen’s darters wot’s wearin’ of their dimonds -art on Pacific Avenoo, an’ they’s larst year’s millionaires wot’s livin’ -in two rooms darn on Minnie Street. It’s the wye o’ life in a new -country, gents, but they’s plums a-gettin’ ripe yet, just the syme, -every bleedin’ dye, I give yer _my_ word! Good Lawd! Look at me, myself! -Lemme tell yer wot’s happened to me in my time!” - -And with this philosophic introduction, Coffee John began - - - THE STORY OF BIG BECKY - -When I fust struck this ’ere port, I was an yble seaman on the British -bark _Four Winds_ art o’ Iquique, with nitrytes, an’ I was abart as -green a lad as ever was plucked. When I drored the nine dollars that was -a-comin’ to me, I went ashore an’ took a look at the tarn, an’ I decided -right then that this was the plyce for me. So I calmly deserts the bark, -an’ I ain’t set me foot to a bloomin’ gang-plank from that dye to this, -syvin’ to tyke the ferry to Oakland. - -Me money larsted abart four dyes. The bleedin’ sharks at the sylor -boardin’-’ouse charged five, a femile in a box at the “Golden West” -darnce-hall got awye with three more, an’ the rest was throwed into -drinks promiscus. The fourth dye in I ’adn’t a bloomin’ penny to me -nyme, an’ I was as wretched as a cow in a cherry-tree. After abart -twelve hours in “’Ell’s Arf-Acre” I drifted into a dive, darn on Pacific -Street, below Kearney, on the Barbary Coast, as _was_ the Barbary Coast -in them dyes! It was a well-known plyce then, an’ not like anythink else -wot ever done business that I ever seen, “Bottle Myer’s” it was; per’aps -yer may have heard of it? No? - -Yer went in through a swing door with a brarss sign on, darn a ’allwye -as turned into a corner into a wider plyce w’ere the bar was, an’ beyond -that to a ’all that might ’ave ’eld, I should sye, some sixty men or -thereabart. The walls was pynted in a blue distemper, but for a matter -of a foot or so above the floor there was wot yer might call a dydo o’ -terbacker juice, like a bloomin’ coat o’ brarn pynte. The ’all smelled -full strong o’ fresh spruce sawdust on the floor, an’ the rest was -whiffs o’ kerosene ile, an’ sylor’s shag terbacker an’ style beer, an’ -the combination was jolly narsty! Every man ’ad ’is mug o’ beer on a -shelf in front of ’is bench, an’ the parndink of ’em after a song was -somethink awful. On a bit of a styge was a row of performers in farncy -dress like a nigger minstrel show, an’ a beery little bloke sat darn in -front, bangin’ a tin-pan pianner, reachin’ for ’is drink with one ’and -occysional, withart leavin’ off plyin’ with the other. - -Well, after a guy ’ad sung “All through a lydy wot was false an’ fyre,” -an’ one o’ the ’ens ’ad cracked art “Darn the lyne to Myry,” or -somethink like that, Old Bottle Myer, ’e got up, with a ’ed like a -cannon-ball an’ cock eyes an’ eyebrars like bits o’ thatch, an’ a farncy -flannel shirt, an’ ’e says: - -“If any gent present wants to sing a song, he can; an’ if ’e don’t want -to, ’e don’t ’ave to!” - -Nar, I wa’n’t no singer myself, though I ’ad piped occysional, to me -mytes on shipboard, but I thought if I couldn’t do as well as them as -’ad myde us suffer, I ought to be jolly well ashymed o’ meself. Wot was -more to the point, I didn’t ’ave the price of a pot o’ beer to bless -myself with, an’ thinks I, this might be a charnst to pinch a bit of a -’aul. So I ups an’ walks darn to the styge, gives the bloke at the -pianner a tip on the chune, an’ starts off on old “Ben Bobstye.” They -was shellbacks in the audience quite numerous as I seen, an’ it done me -good to ’ear ’em parnd their mugs after I’d gort through. W’en I picked -up the abalone shell like the rest of ’em done, an’ parssed through the -’all, wot with dimes an’ two-bit pieces I ’ad considerable, an’ I was -natchurly prard o’ me luck. - -Old Bottle Myer come up an’ says, “’Ow much did you myke, me friend? -Five fifteen, eh? Well, me charge will be on’y a dollar this time, but -if yer want to come rarnd to-morrow night, yer can. If yer do all right, -I’ll tyke yer on reg’lar.” - -Well, I joined the comp’ny sure enough, an’ sung every night, pickin’ up -a feerly decent livin’ at the gyme, for it was boom times then, an’ -money was easier to come by. I had me grub with all the other hartists -in a room they called the “Cabin,” darn below the styge, connected to a -side dressin’-room by a narrer styre. Nar, one o’ the lydies in the -comp’ny was the feature o’ the show, an’ she _were_ a bit out o’ the -ord’n’ry, I give you _my_ word! - -She was a reg’lar whyle of a great big trouncin’ Jew woman as ever I -see. Twenty stone if she were an arnce, an’ all o’ six foot two, with -legs like a bloomin’ grand pianner w’en she put on a short petticoat to -do a comic song. She was billed as “Big Becky,” an’ by thet time she was -pretty well known abart tarn. - -She ’ad started in business in San Francisco at the hextreme top o’ the -’Ebrew haristocracy of the Western Addition, ’avin ’parssed ’erself off -for a member o’ one o’ the swellest families o’ St. Louis, an’ she did -cut a jolly wide swath here, an’ no dart abart thet! She was myde -puffickly at ’ome everyw’eres, an’ flashed ’er sparklers an’ ’er silk -garns with the best o’ ’em. Lord, it must ’ave took yards o’ cloth to -cover ’er body! Well, she gort all the nobs into line, an’ ’ad -everythink ’er own wye for abart two months, as a reg’lar full-blowed -society favoryte. Day an’ night she ’ad a string o’ men after ’er, or -’er money, w’ich was quite two things, seein’ she ’ad to graft for every -penny she bloomin’ well ’ad. - -W’ile she were at the top notch of the social w’irl, as you might sye, -along come another Jewess from the East, reckernized ’er, an’ spoils Big -Becky’s gyme, like a kiddie pricks a ’ole in a pink balloon. She was -showed up for a hadventuress, story-book style, wot ’ad ’oodwinked all -St. Louis a year back, an’ then ’er swell pals dropped awye from ’er -like she was a pest-’ouse. Them wot ’ad accepted ’er invites, an’ ’ad -’er to dinner an’ the theatre an’ wot-not, didn’t myke no bones abart -it—they just natchully broke an’ run. Then all sorts o’ stories come -art, ’ow she borrowed money ’ere, there an’ everyw’ere, put ’er nyme to -bad checks, an’ fleeced abart every bloomin’ ’Ebrew in tarn. She’d a bin -plyin’ it on the grand, an’ on the little bit too grand. - -She was on trial for abart two dyes, an’ the city pypers was so full o’ -the scandal that the swells she ’oodwinked ’ad to leave tarn till it -blew over, an’ San Francisco quit larfin at ’em. I give yer me word the -reporters did give art some precious rycy tyles, an’ every ’Ebrew wot -’ad ’ad Big Becky at a five o’clock tea didn’t dyre go art o’ doors -dye-times. - -Well, for the syke o’ ’ushin’ matters up, her cyse were compromised an’ -the prosecution withdrawed, she bein’ arsked in return to git art o’ -tarn. Instead o’ thet, not ’avin’ any money, she went an’ accepted an -offer from a dime museum here, an’ begun fer to exhibit of ’erself in -short skirts every afternoon an’ evenink reg’lar, to the gryte an’ grand -delight of every chappie who ’adn’t been fooled ’imself. After that she -done “Mazeppa” at the Bella Union Theatre in a costume wot was -positively ’orrid. It was so rude that the police interfered, an’ thet -was back ten year ago, w’en they wa’n’t so partickler on the Barbary -Coast as they be naradyes. Then she dropped darn to Bottle Myer’s an’ -did serios in tights. She was as funny as a bloomin’ helephant on -stilts, if so yer didn’t see the plyntive side of it, an’ we turned men -awye from the door every night. - -I don’t expect Becky ever ’ad more’n a spoonful o’ conscience. But with -all ’er roguery, she was as big a baby inside as she were a giant -outside, w’en yer onct knew ’ow to tyke ’er, was Big Becky. ’Ard as -brarss she was w’en yer guyed ’er, but soft as butter w’en yer took ’er -part, w’ich were somethink as she weren’t much used to, for most treated -’er brutle. Some’ow I couldn’t help likin’ ’er a bit, in spite o’ -meself. I put in a good deal o’ talk with ’er, one wye an’ another, till -I ’ad ’er confidence, an’ could get most anythink art of ’er I wanted. -She told me ’er whole story, bit by bit, an’ it were a reg’lar shillin’ -shocker, I give yer _my_ word! - -Amongst other things, she told me that a Johnnie in tarn nymed Ikey Behn -’ad gort precious balmy over ’er, before she was showed up, an’ ’ad went -so far as to tyke art a marriage license in ’opes, when she seen ’e -meant biz, she’d marry ’im. ’E’d even been bloomin’ arss enough to give -it to ’er, and she ’ad it yet, an’ was ’oldin’ it over ’is ’ed for -blackmyle, if wust come to wust. She proposed for to ’ave a parson’s -nyme forged into the marriage certificate that comes printed on the -other side from the license. - -Nar, things bein’ like this, one night I come up the styre from the -“Cabin” w’ere I’d been lyte to dinner, an’ went into the room w’ere -Becky was a-gettin’ ready to dress for ’er turn. There was a toff there, -in a topper, an’ a long black coat, an’ ’e was havin’ it art, ’ot an’ -’eavy, with Becky. Just as I come up, ’e broke it off, cursink ’er -something awful, an’ she was as red as a bleedin’ ’am, an’ shykin’ a -herthquyke with ’er ’air darn, an’ ’er breath comin’ like a smith’s -bellus. The gentleman slum the door, an’ she says to me, “’Ere, Jock, -old man, will yer do me a fyvor? Just ’old this purse o’ mine an’ keep -it good an’ syfe till I get through my song, for that’s Ikey Behn wot -just went art, an’ ’e’ll get my license sure, if I leave it abart. I -carn’t trust nobody in this ’ole but you. It’s in there,” an’ she showed -me the pyper, shovin’ the purse into me ’and. I left an’ went darn front -w’ile she put on ’er rig an’ done ’er turn. - -Art in the bar, there was the toff, talkin’ to one o’ the wyters, an’ I -knew ’e was tryin’ to tip somebody to frisk Big Becky’s pockets. W’en I -come up, ’e says, “’Ow de do, me man? I sye, ’ave a glarss with me, -won’t yer? Wot’ll yer ’ave?” - -I marked ’is gyme then an’ there, an’ I sat darn to see ’ow ’e’d act. ’E -done it ’andsome, ’e did; ’e was a thoroughbred, an’ no mistake abart -_thet_! ’E wan’t the bloke to drive a bargain like most would ’ave done -under the syme irritytin’ circumstances. - -“See ’ere,” ’e says, affable, an’ ’e opens ’is wallet an’ tykes art a -pack o’ bills. “’Ere’s a tharsand in ’undred-dollar greenbacks. You get -me that pyper Big Becky’s got in ’er purse!” - -There I was, sittin’ right in front of ’im, with the license in me -pocket, an’ there was a fortune in front o’ me as would ’ave set me up -in biz for the rest o’ me life. Wot’s more, if they’s anythink I do -admire, it’s a thoroughbred toff, for I was brought up to reckernize -clarss, an’ I seen at a wink that this ’ere Johnnie was a dead sport. I -knew wot it meant to ’im to get possession o’ thet pyper, for Becky -could myke it jolly ’ot for ’im with it. I confess, gents, thet for -abart ’alf a mo I hesityted. But I couldn’t go back on the woman, seem’ -she ’ad trusted me partickler, an’ so I shook me ’ed mournful, an’ -refused the wad. - -’E was a bit darn in the mouth at thet, not lookin’ to run up agin such, -in a plyce like Bottle Myer’s, I expeck. “See ’ere, me man,” ’e says, “I -just _gort_ to ’ave thet pyper. I’ll tell yer wot, w’en I gort art thet -license, I swyre I thought the woman was stryte an’ all she pretended to -be. We was all of us took in. I wa’n’t after ’er money, I was plum balmy -on ’er, sure, an’ nar I’m engyged to the nicest little gal as ever -lived, an’ it’ll queer the whole thing if this ’ere foolishness gets -art!” - -With my respeck for the haristocracy, I was jolly sorry for the chap, -but I wa’n’t a-goin’ to sell Becky art, not _thet_ wye. I wa’n’t no holy -Willie, but I stuck at that. So I arsked, “Wot’s the gal’s nyme?” - -“That’s none of your biz,” says Behn, gettin’ ’ot in the scuppers, “an’ -that little gyme won’t do yer no good, nohow, for the gal knows all -abart this matter, ’an yer can’t trip me up there. Not much. I’ll pye -yer all the docyment’s worth, if yer’ll get it for me.” - -“Yer won’t get it art o’ Becky not at no price,” I says, “an’ yer won’t -get it art o’ me, unless yer answer my questing. If yer want me to -conduck this ’ere affyre, I got to know all abart it, an’ yer gal won’t -be put to no bother, neither.” - -’E looked me over a bit, an’ then ’e says, low, so that nobody couldn’t -’ear, “It’s Miss Bertha Wolfstein.” Then ’e give me ’is address, ’an -left the matter for me to do wot I could. - -I thought if anybody could work Becky, it would be me, an’ I expected -the gal’s nyme might come in ’andy, though I ’ad no idea then how strong -it would pull. So I goes up to the big woman after she was dressed, and -tykes ’er up to the “Poodle Dog” for supper. She ’ad gort over the worry -by this time, an’ was feelink as chipper as a brig in a west wind. - -“Did ever yer ’ear tell of a Bertha Wolfstein?” I says, off-hand. - -Then wot does she do but begins to bryke darn an’ blubber. “She was the -on’y one in tarn as come to see me after I was pulled,” she says. “I -done all kinds o’ fyvors for lots of ’em, but Miss Wolfstein was the -on’y one who ’ad called me friend, as ever remembered it. She was a -lydy, was Miss Wolfstein; she treated me angel w’ite, she did, Gawd -bless ’er pretty fyce!” - -Then I knowed I ’ad ’er w’ere I wanted ’er, ’an I give it to ’er tender -an’ soft, with all the sugar an’ cream she could stand. I let art Ikey -Behn’s story, hinch by hinch, an’ I pynted the feelinks o’ thet Bertha -Wolfstein with all the tack I knew how, till I gort Becky on the run an’ -she boohooed again, right art loud, an’ I see I ’ad win ’er over. My -word! she _did_ look a sight for spectytors after she’d wiped a ’arf -parnd o’ pynte off’n ’er fyce with ’er napkin, sobbink awye, like ’er -’eart was as soft as a slug in a mud-puddle. She parssed over the pyper -art of ’er purse an’ she says, “Yer can give it to Ikey an’ get the -money. I don’t want to ’urt a ’air o’ thet gal’s ’ead.” - -Seein’ she was so easy worked, I thought it was on’y right I should be -pyde for me trouble, for it ’ad stood me somethink for a private room -an’ drinks an’ such to get her into proper condition. - -So I says, “Thet’s all right, Becky, an’ it’s jolly ’andsome o’ yer to -be willin’ to let go of the docky-ment, but I’ll be blowed if I see ’ow -yer can tyke ’is money, w’en yer feel that wye. If yer sell art the -pyper, w’ere does the bloomin’ gratitude to the gal come in, anywye?” - -At this, Becky looked all wyes for a Sunday, an’ I perceeded to rub it -in. “Nar, see here, Becky, w’ich would yer rather do—get five ’undred -dollars for the license from Ikey, or let Miss Wolfstein know yer’d made -a present of it to ’er, for wot she done to yer?” - -That was a ’ard conundrum for a woman like that, who ’ad fleeced abart -every pal she ever ’ad, an’ the money was a snug bit for anybody who was -as ’ard up as she was then. I thought I’d mark the price darn a bit so’s -to myke the sacrifice easier for ’er. I didn’t dyre to trust her with a -offer of the tharsand Ikey ’ad flashed at me. Besides, I thought I see a -charnst to myke a bit meself withart lyin’. Sure enough, I ’ad read the -weather in ’er fyce all right, an’ she was gyme to lose five ’underd -just to sye “thank you,” as yer might sye. I farncy I’d found abart the -only spot in ’er ’eart as wa’n’t rotten. - -“I guess I’d rather ’ave ’er know I ain’t quite so bad as they think,” -she says, an’ she gulluped an’ rubbed ’er eyes. “You go to Ikey, an’ you -tell ’im ’e’s a—” Well, I won’t sye wot she called ’im. “But Bertha -Wolfstein is the on’y lydy in tarn, an’ it’s on’y for ’er syke I’m -givin’ up the license.” - -Then she kerflummuxed again, an’ if yer think I left her time to think -it over, yer don’t know old John. I took the pyper before the words was -feerly art of ’er marth, an’ in ’arf an’ ’our I was pullin’ Ikey Behn’s -door-bell. When ’e seen me, ’e grinned like a cat in a cream-jug, an’ ’e -arsked me into the li’bry like I was a rich uncle just ’ome from the -di’mond fields. - -Nar, yer might think as I was a-goin’ to try to sell ’im the pyper on me -own account, leavin’ ’im to think that Becky was gettin’ the price of -it, an’ me a percentage. Not much I wa’n’t; not on yer blessed life! I -was too clever for thet! I’ve seen reel toffs before, an’ I knew Ikey -for best clarss when I piped ’im off. ’Ave yer ever watched the -bootblacks in Piccadilly Circus? D’yer think they has a trades-union -price for a shine? Nar! W’en a bleedin’ swell comes along an’ gits a -polish an’ arsks ’ow much, it’s “Wot yer please, sir,” an’ “I leave it -to you, sir,” an’ the blackie gits abart four times wot ’e’d a-dared to -arsk, specially if the toff’s a bit squeegee. That’s the on’y wye to -treat a gentleman born, an’ I knew it. So I tipped ’im off the stryte -story, leavin’ nothing art to speak of, an’ ’e listens affable. I ’ands -’im over the license at the end. - -W’en ’e’d stuck the pyper in a candle ’andy, an’ ’ad lighted a big cigar -with it, offerink the syme an’ a drink to me, ’e says, as cool as a pig -before Christmas, says ’e, “Nar, me man, wot d’yer want for yer trouble? -Yer done me a fyvor, an’ no dart abart _thet_!” - -“No trouble at all,” I says. “I’m proud to oblige such a perfeck -gentleman as you be,” an’ with that I picks up me ’at an’ walks toward -the door. - -“Wyte a bit,” ’e says, “I’ll see if I ain’t gort a dollar on me,” an’ ’e -smiles cordial. But ’e watches me fyce sharp, too, as I seen in the -lookin-glarss. Then ’e goes to a writin’-desk an’ looks in a dror. “If -happen yer don’t want any o’ this yerself, yer can give it to Becky,” he -says, an’ ’e seals up a packet an’ gives it to me like ’e was the -bloomin’ Prince o’ Wyles. Sure, ’e _was_ toff, clean darn to ’is -boot-pegs, I give yer _my_ word! - -When I gort out o’ doors an’ opened the packet, I near fynted awye. They -was a wad o’ hundreds as come to a cool four tharsand dollars. I walked -back on the bloomin’ hatmosphere! - -I come into Bottle Myer’s, just as Big Becky was a-singin’ “Sweet -Vylets,” in a long w’ite baby rig an’ a bunnit as big as a ’ogshead. -Lord, old Myer _did_ myke a guy o’ thet woman somethink awful! W’en she -come off, I was wytin’ in the dressin’-room for ’er. - -“My Lawd, Jock!” she says, w’en she seen me, “yer didn’t give up the -pyper, did yer? Yer knew I was on’y foolin’, didn’t yer? Don’t sye yer -let Ikey get a-hold of it! It was good for a hunderd to me any dye I -needed the money, if I wanted to give it to the pypers.” - -Well, that myde me sick, though I’d expecked as much. I was thet -disgusted thet she couldn’t stand by ’er word for a hour, thet I -couldn’t ’elp syin’, “An’ ’ow abart Miss Wolfstein, as was a friend to -yer, w’en all the other women in tarn went back on yer, Becky? Yer know -wot _she’ll_ think of yer, don’t yer?” - -Right then I seen abart as plucky a fight between good an’ bad worked -art on ’er fyce, as I ever seen in the ring, London Prize rules to a -finish. An’ if you’ll believe it, gents, the big woman’s gratitude to -the Wolfstein gal come art on top, an’ the stingy part of ’er was -knocked art flat. - -It were a tough battle, though, I give yer _my_ word, before I got the -decision. She bit ’er lip till the blood come through the rouge, -standin’ there, a great whoopin’ big mounting o’ flesh with baby clothes -an’ a pink sash on, an’ a wig an’ bunnit like a bloomin’ Drury Lyne -Christmas Pantymime. I just stood an’ looked at ’er! I’m blowed if she -didn’t git almost pretty for ’alf a mo, w’en she says: - -“I’m glad yer did give it up, Jock; I’m glad, nar it’s all over. But -thet five hundred would ’ave syved me life, for old Myer ’as give me the -sack to-dye, an’ I don’t know wot’ll become o’ me.” - -Wot did I do? I done wot the dirtiest sneak in the Pen would a did, an’ -’anded art the envelope an’ split the pile with ’er. - - * * * * * - -Coffee John fetched a deep sigh. “Well, gents, thet’s w’ere I got me -start. The wad didn’t larst long, for I was green an’ unused to money, -but I syved art enough to set me up here, an’ ’ere I am yet. I never -seen Big Becky sinct. - -“Nar you see wot a man might ’appen to strike in a tarn like this. Every -bloomin’ dye they’s somebody up an’ somebody darn. I started withart a -penny, an’ I pulled art a small but helegant fortune in a week’s time. -So can any man. - -“Gents, I give you this stryte: Life in San Francisco is a bloomin’ -fayry tyle if a man knows ’is wye abart, an’ a bloke can bloomin’ well -blyme ’is own liver if ’e carn’t find a bit of everythink ’ere ’e wants, -from the Californy gal, w’ich is the noblest work o’ Gawd, to the -’Frisco flea, w’ich is a bleedin’ cousin to the Old Nick ’isself! They -ain’t no tarn like it, they ain’t never been none, an’ they ain’t never -goin’ to be. It ain’t got neither turf nor trees nor kebs, but it’s -bloody well gort a climate as mykes a man’s ’eart darnce in ’is bussum, -an’ cable-cars wot’ll tyke a guy uphill to ’eaven or rarnd the bloomin’ -next corner to ’ell’s cellar! They’s every sin ’ere except ’ypocrisy, -for that ain’t needed, an’ they’s people wot would ’ave been synted if -they’d lived in ancient times. - -“An’ nar, I want to egspress somethink of wot I thinks o’ you bums. As -fur as I can see every one o’ yer is a ’ard cyse, ’avin’ indulged in wot -yer might call questingable practices, withart yet bein’, so to speak, -of the criminal clarss. It don’t go to myke a man particklerly prard o’ -’umanity to keep a dime restaurant; ’arrivver, ’Evving knows wot I’d do -if I couldn’t sometimes indulge in the bloomin’ glow of ’ope. Vango, I -allar you’ll be a bad ’un, and I don’t expeck to make a Sunday-school -superintendent o’ yer. Coffin uses such lengwidge as mykes a man wonder -if ’e ain’t a bleedin’ street fakir on a ’arf-’oliday, so I gives ’im up -frankly an’ freely an’ simply ’opes for the best. But you, Dryke, is -just a plyne ornery lad as ’as ’ad ’is eart broke, an’ you ’as me -sympathy, as a man with feelinks an’ a conscience. - -“Nar, I’ll tell yer wot I’ll do. I’ll styke the three of yer a dime -apiece, an’ yer git art o’ ’ere with the firm intentions o’ gettin’ rich -honest. Mybe yer won’t myke it, an’ then again mybe yer will, but it’s a -good gamble an’ I’d like to have it tried art. Anywye, come back ’ere -to-morrow at nine, an’ ’ave dinner on me, ’an tell me all abart it. Wot -d’yer sye?” - -It was a psychological moment. The proposition, fantastic as it was, -seemed, under the spell of Coffee John’s enthusiasm, to promise -something mysteriously new, something grotesquely romantic. It was a -chance to turn a new leaf. The three vagabonds were each stranded at a -turn of the tide. The medium, with his nerves unstrung, was only too -willing to cast on Fate the responsibility of the next move. The Harvard -Freshman, with no nerves at all, one might say, hailed the adventure as -a Quixotic quest that would be amusing to put to the hazard of chance. -The hero of Pago Bridge had little spirit left, but, like Vango, he -welcomed any fortuitous hint that would tell him which way to turn in -his misery. All three were well worked upon by the solace of the moment, -and a full stomach makes every man brave. Coffee John’s appeal went -home, and from the sordid little shop three beggars went forth as men. -One after the other accepted the lucky dime and fared into the night, to -pursue the firefly of Fortune. - -In ten minutes the restaurant was dark and empty, and Coffee John was -snoring in a back room. Three Picaroons were busy at the Romance of -Roguery. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - THE HARVARD FRESHMAN’S ADVENTURE: THE FORTY PANATELAS - - -James Wiswell Coffin, 3d, was the first of the three adventurers to -leave the restaurant, and as he turned up Kearney Street he had a new -but fully fledged philosophy buzzing in his brain. Enlightenment had -come in a hint dropped by Coffee John himself. It took a Harvard man and -a Bostonian of Puritan stock to hatch that chick of thought, but, by the -time the coffee was finished, the mental egg broke and an idea burst -upon him. It was this: - -“Facts show that good luck is stable for a while and is then followed by -a run of misfortune. The mathematical ideal of alternate favorable and -unfavorable combinations does not often occur. There is where the great -Law of Probabilities falls down hard. The curve of fortune is like a -wave. It should then be played heavily while it ascends, and lightly on -the decline. Mine is undoubtedly rising. Go to! I shall proceed to -gamble!” - -But how gamble at midnight with a capital of but one dime? In no other -city in the world is it so easy as in San Francisco, that quaint -rendezvous of saloons and cigar stands. There the goddess Fortuna has a -shrine on every street corner and the offerings of her devotees produce -a rattle as characteristic of the town as the slap of the cable pulley -in the conduit of the car lines. The cigar slot-machine or -“hard-luck-box” is a nickel lottery played by good and bad alike; for it -has a reputation no shadier than the church-raffle or the juvenile -grab-bag, and is tolerated as a harmless safety-valve for the lust of -gaming. All the same, it is the perpetual ubiquitous delusion of the -amateur sportsman. - -Gunschke’s cigar shop was still open as Coffin reached the corner of -Brush Street. He walked briskly inside the open sales-room (for a cigar -shop has but three walls in San Francisco’s gentle clime) and, with the -assurance of one who has just touched a humpback and the carelessness of -a millionaire, he exchanged Coffee John’s dime for two nickels, dropped -one down the slot of the machine on the counter and sprang the handle. -The five wheels of playing-cards whirled madly, then stopped, leaving a -poker-hand exposed behind the wire. He had caught a pair of kings, good -for a “bit” cigar. - -Coffin was disappointed, and yet, after all, there was a slight gain in -the transaction. Investing five cents, he had won twelve and a half -cents’ worth of merchandise. It was not sufficiently marvellous to turn -his head, but his luck was evidently on the up-curve, though it was -rising slowly enough. He took the other nickel—his last—and jerked the -handle again, awaiting with calmness for the cards to come to a -standstill. - -As the wheels settled into place a man with green eyes and a bediamonded -shirt front came up and leaned over Coffin’s shoulder. “Good work! A -straight flush, by crickety!—forty cigars! Get in and break the bank, -young fellow!” - -Coffin turned to him with nonchalance, while the clerk marked the -winning in a book. “Nn—nn! I know when I’ve got enough.” - -“Play for me then, will you?” the other rejoined. “You’ve got luck, you -have!” - -“I don’t propose to make a present of it to you, if I have; I need every -stitch of it myself.” And then Coffin, touched with a happy thought, -began to swagger. “Besides, if I’m going to smoke this forty up to-night -I’ve got to get busy with myself.” He looked knowingly at the goods -displayed for his choice, pinching the wrappers. “I’ve never had all the -cigars I could smoke yet, and I’m going to try my limit. Got any -Africana Panatelas, Colorado Maduro?” he asked the clerk. A small box -was taken down from the shelf. Coffin accepted it and walked leisurely -toward the door. - -“Good Lord!” cried the stranger, following him. “You don’t think you can -tackle forty cigars on a stretch, do you? Kid, it’ll kill you!” - -“It’s a beautiful death,” Coffin replied, jauntily, “you can tell mamma -I died happy.” The cigar clerk grinned. - -“Strikes me you’re troubled with youngness,” said the stranger, looking -him over. - -Coffin ruffled at his patronizing tone. “See here! D’you think I can’t -get away with these forty cigars, smoking ’em in an end-to-end chain -down to one-inch butts?” - -“I bet you a hundred dollars you get sick as a pig first!” was the -reply. - -“Taken!” Coffin cried, and went at him with fire in his eye. “See here, -I left all my money on my grand piano, but if you’ll trust me I’ll trust -you without stakes held. We’ll get the clerk here to see fair play, and -if I don’t see this box to a finish or pay up, you two can push the face -off me. What d’you say?” - -The green-eyed stranger, who had evidently money to spend foolishly, and -a night to waste in doing it, assented jovially. It is not hard to -organize an impromptu trio for any hair-brained purpose whatever in that -land of careless comradeship. The two waited till the clerk had put up -the screen at the front of the shop, and then walked with him round to -California Street. Half way up the first block stood an old-fashioned -wooden house painted drab, with green blinds, in striking contrast to -the high brick buildings that surrounded it. The frame had been brought -round Cape Horn in ’49, and, in pioneer days, the place had been one of -the most fashionable boarding-houses in town. Chinatown now crowded it -in; it had fallen into disrepute, and was visited only by the poorer -class of foreigners. Over the entrance was a sign bearing the -inscription, “Hotel de France.” Here the salesman had a room. - -The lower part of the house was dark, but in answer to a prolonged -ringing of the bell, a small boy appeared and, with many comments in a -_patois_ of the Bas Pyrenees, lighted two lamps in the barroom. The -three men sat down and took off their coats and collars for comfort. -James Wiswell Coffin, 3d, opened the box of Panatelas and regarded them -with a sentimental eye. - -He bit the end off the first cigar and struck a match. Then he bowed to -the company with the theatrical air of a man about to touch off a loaded -bomb. “Gentlemen, I proceed to take my degree of Bachelor of Nicotine, -if I don’t flunk.” He lighted the tobacco, quoting, “_Ave, Caesar! -Morituri te salutant!_” and blew forth a ring of smoke. It floated -upward, smooth and even, hovered over his head a moment like a halo, -then, writhing, scattered and drifted away. Coffin removed the cigar -from his mouth and looked thoughtfully at the ash. - -“It burns all right,” he said, “I won’t have to put kerosene on ’em to -make ’em go. D’you know a Panatela always reminds me of a smart, -tailor-made girl. It’s the most slenderly beautiful shape for a cigar; -it’s gracile, by Jove, gracile and jimpriculate—I got that word in -Kentucky. But I chatter, friends, I am garrulous. Besides I think I have -now said all I know, and it’s your edge, stranger. How would it do for -you to enliven the pink and frisky watches of the night by narrating a -few of the more inflammable chapters of your autobiography?” - -Thus conjured by the imp, the stranger consented to relate, after a few -preliminaries, the following tale: - - - THE STORY OF THE RETURNED KLONDYKER - -This is pretty near the finish, young fellow, of the biggest spending -jag this town ever saw. The money cost me sixteen years of tramping and -trading and frozen toes, and then it came slap, all in a bunch. So easy -come, easy go, says I. - -I was breaking north, the year of the big find, when I struck hard luck. -That’s too long a yarn to tell. But the end was that I landed two -hundred miles from Nowhere, cracked in the head from behind and left for -dead in the snow. The Malemute that did it had his finish in Dawson that -winter by the rope route, spoiling the shot I was saving for him. - -I was stooping over, fixing a sled-runner, when—biff!... I woke up in an -Indian hut filled with smoke. The whole works were buzzing round, and a -lot of big husky bucks and squaws grunting over me. I was for getting up -and cleaning them out, but I hadn’t the strength. For a month I was plum -nutty. But every little while, when my head cleared, I’d look up to see -a good-natured looking brown girl with black eyes taking care of me as -carefully as if she was a trained nurse. - -As I got over the fever slowly, I made out, she telling me in Chinook, -that she had found me half frozen to death, and had carried me fifty -miles by sled. How she did it the Lord only knows. Maybe it was because -she was gone on me, which I oughtn’t to say, neither, but she sure was. -I did a heap of thinking. She had grit and gentleness, and the feelings -of a lady, which is what every woman that calls herself such hasn’t got, -and the more I saw of her the better I liked her. So when I got well I -had a pow-wow with her father, who was chief of the tribe, and I bought -her for ten dogs on tick and my gun, which the durned thief had forgot -in the mix-up, and sixty tin tags I’d been saving from plucks of tobacco -to get a free meerschaum pipe with. We were married Indian fashion, -which is pretty easy, and she came and lived with me in my hut. - -Since then I’ve had plenty of the stuff that’s supposed to make a man -happy, but I’m blowed if I was ever happier than I was that winter, -living with the tribe and married to Kate. - -Well, that winter was over with at last. It came spring, or what you -might call such, with the ice beginning to melt and the sun getting up -for a little while every day, lighter and lighter. One day Kate and I -went fishing. She pulled in her line and I saw something that made me -forget I was an Indian, adopted into the tribe, all regular. Her sinker -was a gold nugget as big as the fist on a papoose! - -I knew it the minute I laid my eyes on it, though it was all black with -water and weather. I grabbed it and cut it. It was as soft as lead, -reddish yellow. - -“Where did you ever get that?” I said. - -“Up by the Katakoolanat Pass,” she said, unconcerned-like, as if it was -pig-iron. “I picked it up because it was heavy.” - -“Can you find the place again?” I asked her. - -She studied a while. But the Indians never forget anything. It’s -book-learning that makes you forget. I knew she’d remember before she -got through, and she did. She took her fish-line and laid it out in -funny curves and loops on the top of the snow like a map, knotting it -here and there to show places she knew, mountain-peaks, lakes and -such-like. Then she pointed out the way with her finger. She had it down -fine. When she got done she looked up to me with a grin and said: “Why?” - -Then it came to me all of a sudden that she had no idea of the worth of -her find. This was before the big rush, and her tribe didn’t see white -men more than twice a year. Their regular hunting grounds were far to -the north. They traded skins and dogs and fish once in a while with -traders, and got beads and truck in return. With the other Indians they -made change by strings of wampum they call alligacheeks. She had no idea -of the value of gold, and she’d never seen a piece of money in her life. -But I didn’t stop to explain then. - -“Come on,” I said, “we’re going to borrow dogs, and sled north to the -Katakoolanat country for sure!” She never said a word, but packed up and -followed, the way she was trained to do. - -We found the place the third day, just like she said we would. Lord, -that was a bonanza all right! You could dig out nuggets with a stick. It -was the Katakoolanat diggings you may have heard about. - -When I had staked out my claims, two prospectors got wind of it and -started the rush. I got our band to move up and help me hold my rights, -and when some Seattle agents offered me four hundred thousand dollars -for my claims, I took it, you bet. - -The first thing I did after that was to pay back a hundred dogs for the -ten I had promised for Kate; then I bought up all the provisions I could -get hold of—eggs a dollar apiece, bacon five dollars a pound—and I fed -our band of Indians till they couldn’t hold any more. It was Kate -brought me the luck, and I felt the winnings were more hers than mine. -There wasn’t anything too good for her. When a Scandihoovian missionary -came up to the place we went and got married white fashion, for I wanted -my wife to be respected, and after that I always insisted that everybody -should call her Mrs. Saul Timney, which made her feel about six foot -high every time she heard it. - -Well, sir, Kate was a study in those times. She couldn’t quite get it -through her head for a good while why we could put it over the rest of -’em the way we did. The more I got for her, the more puzzled she was. I -recall the first time she ever saw money passed. It was when I bought -the dogs. I was paying twenty-dollar gold pieces out of a sack, and she -asked me what they were. She thought they were stones, because they -looked more than anything else like the flat, round pebbles she had seen -on the beach, the kind you throw to skip on the water. - -“They’re just all alligacheek,” I said; then, partly for the joke on -her, I said, “Good medicine (meaning magic); you can get anything you -want with ’em!” - -“Give me some,” said Kate, not quite believing me, for it was a pretty -big story to swallow, according to her ideas, so I handed her over a -stack of twenties. - -She took them and went out to try the magic. Going up to the first man -she met, she held out the whole lot to him, asking him for his slicker. -When I came up and said it was all right, he peeled it right off and -handed it over to her, grabbing the money quick. That was a new one on -her, and she couldn’t quite believe it even then. Well, it was funny to -see the way she acted. She pretty near bought up everything in camp she -took a fancy to, just for the fun of seeing the magic work, and she was -as excited as a kid with a brand new watch. - -We came out of the country finally, and took a steamer for San -Francisco, for I wanted to see the old town again and show Kate what big -cities were like, besides giving her the chance to spend all the money -she wanted on togs and jewelry. We drove up from the wharf in the best -turn-out I could find, and put up at the Palace Hotel in the bridal -suite. The best was none too good for Kate and me while I was flush. - -I rather guess we broke the record for spending, the two weeks we stayed -there. I had three or four cases of champagne open in my room all the -time, and the bell-boys got so they knew they didn’t have to be asked, -but would just pop the cork and let her fizz. I got a great big -music-box that cost more than a piano, with drums and bells inside, and -we kept it a-going while we were eating, which was most of the time we -weren’t out doing the town. I blowed myself for an outfit of sparklers, -which this stone here in my shirt-front is the last, sole survivor. I -bought more clothes than I could wear out in ten years. - -Kate went me one better. Gee! She _did_ have a time! Of course, -woman-like, though she was a squaw, the first thing she thought about, -after she saw white ladies on the wharves, at Skagway, was clothes. Mrs. -Saul Timney had to dress the part, and she was bound to do it if it -half-killed her, which it did. She bought a whole civilised outfit of -duds at the White House in ’Frisco, and got the chambermaid to help her -into ’em; that’s where she got the first jolt. It wasn’t so easy as it -looked. She couldn’t walk in the high-heeled shoes they wear here, and -so she kept on moccasins. Corsets she gave up early in the game. They -didn’t show, anyway, being inside. Finally she got a dressmaker to rig -her up a sort of a loose red dress that they call a Mother Hubbard. Her -favourite cover was an ermine cape. She bought it because it cost more -than anything else in the fur store. She just splurged on hats and -bonnets. I reckon she had a new one every day. The thing that tickled -her most was gloves, for her hands were good and little. She wore white -ones all the time. I s’pose it was because she felt she looked more like -an American woman that way. - -The swell togs she couldn’t wear she bought just the same. We skated -through town like a forest-fire, me doing the talking and her the -picking out. She got darned near everything that I ever knew women wore, -and a big lot of others I never had heard of. - -Every time she picked a thing, and pulled out the yellow boys to pay for -it her eyes stuck out. Of course, not being used to doing business that -way, it looked to her like every clerk behind the counter was her slave, -all ready to give her anything she said. She never got over her wonder -at the “medicine stones.” - -She had to stop in front of every jewelry store she saw, too, but I -couldn’t get her to buy anything worth wearing. She just turned up her -nose at diamonds and rubies, but at the sight of a cheap string of beads -she went out of her head. She generally wore five or six necklaces of -’em over her cape. Lord, I didn’t care, and what she wanted, she got. - -Well, after she’d let the money run away from her for a couple of weeks, -she got tired of the game and kind of homesick. She begun to pine for -cold weather and ice and all, while I was just beginning to enjoy the -place. I tried to brace her up, and thinking it might please her to hear -the seals bark at the Cliff House, we drove out there in a hack. - -We were down to the “White House” store one day, when I run slap into -Flora Donovan, that used to live next door to us in Virginia City. She -was only a kid when I went north. She’d grown up into considerable of a -woman now, but I knew her. So I went up to her, and offered to shake -hands. She glared pretty hard till I told her who I was and how money -had come my way. It seems her folks had struck it rich, too, and she had -more money than she knew what to do with. - -When Flora caught sight of Kate, staring at her, behind me, she flopped -up one of those spectacles with handles, and her eyebrows went up at the -same time. She froze like an ice-pack. I allow the two women didn’t look -much alike, but I wouldn’t let anybody snub my wife if I could help it, -so I introduced them, calling Kate Mrs. Saul Timney, the way she liked -to have me. Flora sprang something about being “charmed,” and then said -she had to be going. Said she hoped I’d call, but nothing about Kate, I -noticed. - -I followed her off with my eyes, she was so pretty and high-toned now, -the first decent white woman I’d talked to in years, and, honest—oh, -well, hang it, a man’s got no license to be ashamed of his wife, but I -don’t know—Kate did look kind of funny in that red Mother Hubbard and -the ermine cape and straw hat, with moccasins and five strings of glass -beads—doggone it, I hated myself for being ashamed of her, which I -wasn’t, really, only somehow she looked different than she did before. - -I tried to get her away, but she stood stock-still watching Flora, who -had walked off down to the cloak department at the end of the aisle. But -if Kate don’t want to move, all hell and an iceberg can’t budge her, and -I stood waiting to think how I’d square myself with her, feeling guilty -enough, though I was just as fond of my wife as ever. All of a sudden -Kate made a break for the counter where Flora Donovan was buying a -cloak. The clerks all knew Kate by this time, and the floorwalker chap -would come on the hop-skip-and-a-jump and turn the shop upside down for -her. So when she came up behind Miss Donovan, and pointed to three or -four expensive heavy cloaks and threw out a sack of double eagles to pay -for ’em, letting the clerk take out what he wanted, she had everybody -around staring at her, Flora included. - -I could see well enough what was in Kate’s mind. She had seen that I was -just a little ashamed of her, for some reason, and that Flora didn’t -think she was in her class. Kate wanted to show that she was the real -thing, and a sure lady, and the only way she knew how to prove it was to -beat Flora at buying. Kate didn’t exactly want to put it over her, she -only wanted to make good as the wife of Saul Timney. - -Flora only said: “Your wife has very good taste, Mr. Timney,” and sailed -into the ladies’ underwear corner. Kate stuck to her like a burr. She -was right at home there, and for about fifteen minutes it seemed like -all the cash-boys in the world were running in and out packing away -white things, just like Kate was a fairy queen giving orders. She laid -down “medicine stones” on the counter till the flim-flams and -thingumbobs almost dropped down off the shelves of themselves. I s’pose -a man really has no business to be in a place like that, but I watched -the two of ’em buy. Kate had actually got Flora going, and both of ’em -emptied their sacks. Then Flora swept out, looking a hole through me, -but never saying a word. I’ve heard afterward that Miss Donovan was -pretty well known to be close-fisted, and it must have hurt her some to -let go of all that money, just on account of an Indian squaw. But the -clerks behind the counter nearly went into fits. - -Kate came up to me and said, “I can buy more things than she can, can’t -I?” And I said, “Sure, you can, Kate; you could buy her right out of -house and home!” - -She looked a little relieved then, but I saw she was jealous, and the -worst of it was, I’d given her license to be. I tried to be as nice as I -could, and bought her another necklace, and took her to see the -kinetoscopes and let her look through the telescope at the moon, but I -saw she was still fretting about Flora. That night I met a fellow from -the Yukon, and I left Kate at the hotel and made a night of it. I went -to bed with considerable of a head, and when I woke up, toward noon, -Kate was gone. She didn’t show up till the next day after that. I -learned afterward what happened. - -Kate started out bright and early to find Flora. She had got into a -black dress with spangles, patent-leather shoes, and a hat as big as a -penguin. She carried with her all the cash we had at the hotel, running -into four figures easy. The shopping district of San Francisco ain’t -such a big place, after all, and Kate and Flora only went to the best -and highest-priced stores, so it wasn’t long before they met. - -As far as I could find out, Kate didn’t have her hatchet out at all, -this trip, but she was just trying to make up to Flora, and be nice to -her and show she was ready to get acquainted. You can guess what -happened. Flora tried to pass Kate, but Kate just stood in the aisle -like a house. It was no use for Flora to try and snub her, for Kate -couldn’t understand the kind of polite slaps in the face that ladies -know how to give. The only thing was to get rid of her, so Flora up and -went out the front door to her carriage. - -Kate followed her out to the sidewalk. When Flora got in, Kate got in -right alongside, grinning all over, showing her sack of gold, and trying -her best to be as nice as she could. Flora was clean flabbergasted. She -didn’t want to make a holy show of herself on the street by calling the -police, and so she told her driver to go home, as the best way out of -it. So they drove to Van Ness Avenue, Flora throwing conniption fits, -she was so mad, and Kate smiling and talking Chinook, with her big hat -on one ear. - -When they got to the house, Flora jumped out and loped up the steps, -blazing, and slammed the door. Kate tried to follow, but her tight dress -and tight shoes were too much for her, and she fell down. That got -Kate’s mad up, and when Kate’s good and mad she’s a mule. She banged at -the door, but no one opened. So she sat down on the front doorstep to -wait till Flora came out. You know what Indians are. She was ready to -wait all night. She was used to nights six months long, and a few hours -in a San Francisco fog didn’t worry her a bit. She took off her shoes, -and loosened her dress, and stuck to the mat. - -Finally Flora sent out one of the hired help to drive Kate away. Kate -pulled out one of her “medicine stones” that she had always found would -work, and it worked all right. He went in with a twenty-dollar gold -piece and told all the rest of the help, and they came out one by one -and got twenties, while Kate froze to the doorstep. Then Flora -telephoned for the police, and a copper came up from the station to put -Kate off the steps. He stopped when she handed him the first twenty. He -put up his club when she brought out two more, and went back, after -telling the Donovans he couldn’t exceed the law. - -There she stayed till eight o’clock next morning, but it finally got -through her head that Flora would never leave while she was there, so -Kate decided to hide out and lay for her. She went across the street and -sat down on the steps of the Presbyterian church, a couple of blocks -away, where she drew a crowd of kids and nurse-girls, till the cop on -the beat came up and drove ’em away and collected another pair of -twenties. - -About ten o’clock, Flora, thinking the coast was clear, came out and got -into her carriage. Kate was ready for her, holding up her skirt in one -hand and her shoes in the other. The carriage drove off and Kate fell in -behind on a little trot. You know how Indians run; they can keep it up -all day, and you can’t get away from ’em. Flora saw her, and made the -driver whip up. - -There they went, lickety-split, a swell turn-out, with Flora yelling at -the driver to go faster, and about half a block behind poor old Kate, -right in the middle of the street, on the car-track, in dinkey open-work -silk stockings, with her shoes in one hand, going like a steam-engine. -Her hat fell off as she crossed Polk Street, but Lord, she didn’t care, -she had barrels of ’em at the hotel. I guess they had a clear street all -the way. It must have taken the crowd like a circus parade. - -The police never caught on till they got to Kearney Street, and there I -was standing, looking for my wife. A copper came out to nail her for a -crazy woman, but I got there first, and bundled her into a hack. - -When we got up to our rooms she was so queer and strange that for a -little while I didn’t know but she had gone nutty, after all. She never -said a word till she had straightened up her dress and put on her shoes -and got out a new hat. Then she stood in front of a big looking-glass. -Finally she turned loose on me. - -“I want to be white and have a thin nose and a little waist like an -American woman. Where can I get that? How many medicine stones will it -take to make me white?” - -“Oh, Kate,” I said, “don’t talk like that, old girl. You are good enough -for me. You can’t buy all that, anyway.” - -Then she said, “You don’t like me the way you like that other woman. How -many medicine stones will it take to make me just as if I was white?” - -Of course I told her I was just as fond of her as ever, but she wouldn’t -have it that way. She asked me again how much money it would take, and I -had to tell her that the magic was no good for things like that. - -That seemed to kind of stun her, and she began to mope and pine. She -went back into her room and puttered around some. I didn’t have the -heart to follow her and see what she was up to. When she came out she -had on her old loose dress and her moccasins. Over her head was the same -shawl she wore when she came out of the Klondyke. - -“Give me my medicine stones,” she said to me. “I want all of them!” - -She seemed to feel so sore, I went out and drew two thousand dollars in -twenties and brought ’em to her in two sacks. She didn’t need to tell me -what was up. She was going back to her own country and her own people. -She was singing the song of the tribe—“Death on the White Trail”—when I -came in. I was going to stay in ’Frisco. That was what Kate wanted, and -what Kate wants she gets, every time, if I have the say-so. - -It happened there was a steamer going next morning, and Kate didn’t -leave her room nor speak to me till it was time to go down to the dock. -I got her ticket and paid the purser to take good care of her. Even at -the last we didn’t do much talking—what was the use? We both understood, -and her people don’t waste words. - -When the boat started she stood on the upper deck looking at me. Then, -all of a sudden, she opened her two sacks of coin and began to throw the -money by handfuls into the Bay, scattering it in shower after shower of -gold till it was all gone. - - * * * * * - -Well, sir, the Yukon’s the place after all. I’ve blown in most all of my -four hundred thousand, and what have I got for it? Kate will wait for -me, the same way she waited for Flora Donovan. I’ve got one little claim -I hung on to when I sold out the rest, and I’ve got the fever again. As -soon as I’ve had my fun out, and that won’t be long, I’ll make for the -snow country. - - * * * * * - -And some day, when Kate comes in from the fishing, she’ll crawl into her -hut and find me there, smoking by the fire. - -So, with jest and story, the night wore on, and James Wiswell Coffin 3d -pulled steadily at his cigars. He smoked nervously now, with a ruthless -determination to finish at any hazard. More than once, in the early -morning, he had to snatch hastily at a biscuit and swallow it to keep -his gorge from rising at his foolhardy intemperance; but he manfully -proceeded with a courage induced by the firm belief that if he failed, -and attempted to evade payment of his bet, this gentle, green-eyed -Klondyker would make him pay through the nose. It is not safe, in the -West, for a man to wager high stakes with no assets. The youngster was -by no means sure of his endurance. Already the weeds tasted vilely -bitter and the fumes choked him pitifully, but still his sallies and -repartees covered his fears as a shop-girl’s Raglan hides a shabby -skirt. - -By the watch, he had succeeded in smoking his first cigar in eleven -minutes. Keeping fairly well to this pace, eight o’clock found him with -but four left in the box. Rather sallow, with a faded, set grin, still -puffing, still chaffing, the Harvard Freshman was as cool as Athos under -fire. The Klondyker was as excited as a heavy backer at a -six-days’-go-as-you-please. The cigar-clerk had run out of racy tales -and conundrums. - -At last but three Panatelas remained. - -“See here,” said the scion of the Puritans, “I promised to smoke the -whole box, didn’t I, and to keep one lighted all the time? Well, I -didn’t say only one, and so I’m going to make a spurt and smoke the last -three at once.” - -The Klondyker demurred, and it was left for the cigar-salesman to -decide. Coffin won. Making a grimace, the young fool, with a dying gasp -of bravado, lighted the three, and while the others looked on with -admiration, puffed strenuously to the horrid end. When the stumps were -so short that he could hardly hold them between his lips the salesman -pulled out a watch. - -“Seven hours, twenty-three minutes and six seconds—Coffin wins!” he -cried. - -At this the Harvard Freshman toppled and, dropping prone upon the floor, -felt so desperately, so horribly, ill that for a while his nausea held -him captive. The room went round. After a while he reeled to his feet -and felt the cool touch of gold that the Klondyker was forcing into his -palm. The ragged clouds of rotting smoke, the lines of bottles behind -the bar, and the sanded floor swam in a troubled vision, and then his -mind righted. - -“You were dead game all right, youngster,” the Klondyker was saying. “I -never thought you’d see it through, but you earned your money. I’ll bet -you never worked harder for a salary, though!” - -Coffin tried to smile, and drank a half pitcher of water. “Gentlemen,” -he said, solemnly, leaning against the wall-paper, “one of life’s -sweetest blessings has faded. I have lost one of Youth’s illusions. I -shall never smoke again. There is nothing left for me to do but join the -Salvation Army and knock the Demon Rum. My heart feels like a -punching-bag after Fitz has finished practising with it, and my head is -as light as a new-laid balloon. As for the dark-brown hole where my -mouth used to be—brrrrrh! I move we pass out for fresh air. Funny, it -seems a trifle smoky here! Wonder why. Come along and see me skate on -the sidewalk. I’m as dizzy as Two-step Willie at the eleventh extra.” -Then he patted the double eagles in his hand. “Every one of you little -yellow boys has got to go out and get married, I must have a big family -by to-night!” - -The Klondyker gasped. “For Heaven’s sake you don’t mean to say you’re -going to begin again? You ought to be in the Receiving Hospital right -now. Can you think of anything crazier to do after this? I’ll back you! -I haven’t had so much fun since I left the Yukon. You’re likely to tip -over the City Hall before night, if I don’t watch you.” - -“Well, well, I can’t quite keep up this pace, gentlemen,” said the -cigar-clerk, “and I have to open up the shop. I’ll look you up to-night -at the morgue!” - -He left hurriedly. - -Once outside, Coffin’s spirits rose. “I never really expected to greet -yon glorious orb again,” he said. “Let’s climb up to Chinatown and get -rich.” - -“Spending money is my mark; I’m a James P. Dandy when it comes to -letting go of coin. I’m with you,” said the Klondyker. “Besides, I want -to see how long before our luck changes.” - -The Freshman led the way up past St. Mary’s Church, without heeding the -sacred admonition graved below the dial: “_Son, observe the time and -flee from evil!_” a warning singularly apposite in that scarlet quarter -of the town. They passed up the narrow Oriental lane of Dupont Street, -the Chinatown highway, and, as he pointed out the sights, Coffin -discoursed. - -“In the back of half these shops the gentle game of fan-tan is now -progressing. Moreover, there are at least five lotteries running in the -quarter that I know of. To wit: the ’American,’ the ’Lum Ki,’ the ’New -York,’ the ’Ye Wah’ and the ’Mee Lee Sing.’ I propose to buck the -Mongolian tiger in his Oriental lair and watch the yellow fur fly, by -investing a small wad in a ticket for the half-past-nine drawing. I -worked out a system last night, while dallying with the tresses of My -Lady Nicotine, and I simply can’t lose unless my luck has turned sour. I -shall mark said ticket per said inspiration, and drag down the spoils of -war. Kaloo, kalay, I chortle in my joy!” - -“See here, then, you let me in on that,” insisted the Klondyker; “you -keep your hundred and salt it down. You play my money this shot, and -I’ll give you half of what’s made on it. You’re a mascot to-day, and -I’ve earned the right to use you!” - -“All right; then I agree to be fairy godmother until the sun sets. But I -muchly fear you’ll let the little tra-la-loo bird out of the cage, with -your great, big, coarse fingers. Never mind, we’ll try it. Here we are, -now!” - -He paused in front of a smallish Chinese restaurant on a side street. In -the lower windows were displayed groceries and provisions, raw and -cooked, and from the upper story a painted wooden fretwork balcony -projected, adorned with potted shrubs and paper lanterns. - -“Behind this exhibition of split ducks, semi-pigs, mud-packed eggs from -the Flowery Realm, dried abalones, sugar-cane from far Cathay, preserved -watermelon-rind, candied limes, li-chi nuts, chop suey, sharks’ fins, -birds’ nests, rats, cats, and rice-brandy, punks, peanut-oil, and -passionate pastry, lurks the peaceful group that makes money for you -while you wait. Above, in red hieroglyphs, you observe the legend, ’Chin -Fook Yen Company.’ This does not indicate the names of the several -members of the firm, as is ordinarily supposed, but it is the touching -and tempting motto, ’Here Prosperity awaits Everybody, all same -Sunlight!’ In the days of evil tidings I once made a bluff at being a -Chinatown guide. It is easy enough; but I am naturally virtuous, and I -was not a success with the voracious drummer and the incredulous English -globe-trotter. But I picked up a few friends amongst the Chinks, as -you’ll see.” - -They entered, to find a small room, from the centre of which a -brass-stepped staircase rose to the floor above. On one side of this -office was a counter, behind which sat a fat, sleek Chinaman, -industriously writing with a vertical brush in an account-book, pausing -occasionally to compute a sum upon the ebony beads of an abacus. He -looked up and nodded at Coffin, and, without stopping his work, called -out several words in Chinese to those upstairs. The two went past the -kitchens on the second floor to the top story, where several large -dining-rooms, elaborately decorated in carved wood and colored glass -windows, stretched from front to rear. In one room a group of men, -seemingly Eastern tourists, were seated on teakwood stools at a round -table, drinking tea and nibbling at sugared confections distributed in -numerous bowls. Expatiating upon the wonders of the place was what -seemed to be one of the orthodox Chinatown guides, pointing with his -slim rattan cane, and smoking a huge cigar. - -Coffin led the way to a back room, and, looking carefully to see if he -were observed, knocked three times at an unobtrusive door. Immediately a -silken curtain at the side was raised, disclosing a window guarded by a -wire screen. In an instant it was dropped again and the door was opened -narrowly. Coffin pushed his friend through, and they found themselves in -a square, box-like closet or hallway. Here, another door was opened -after a similar signal and inspection by the look-out, and they passed -through. - -Inside this last barrier was a large room painted a garish blue. About a -table in the centre several Chinamen were assembled, and doors were -opening and shutting to receive or let out visitors. At a desk in the -corner was sitting a thin-faced merchant with horn spectacles and long -drooping white mustaches. To him Coffin went immediately and shook -hands. Then he explained something of the workings of the lottery to the -Klondyker. It was decided to buy a fifteen-dollar ticket, and they -received a square of yellow paper where, within a border, were printed -eighty characters in green ink. Above was stamped in red letters the -words “New York Day Time.” The price was written plainly across the -face. - -“Now, I’ll mark it,” said Coffin. “You can mark a ’high-low’ system that -is pretty sure to win, but it’s too difficult for me—I was never much of -a Dazmaraz at the higher mathematics. So I’ll play a ’straight’ ticket. -That is: I mark out ten spots anywhere I please. There are twenty -winning numbers, and on a fifteen-dollar ticket if I catch five of them -I get thirty dollars; six pays two hundred and seventy dollars, seven -pays twenty-four hundred dollars, and eight spots pull down the capital -prize. If more than one ticket wins a prize the money is divided _pro -rata_, so we don’t know what we win till the tickets are cashed in, -downstairs in the office.” - -He took a brush and marked his ten spots, five above and five below the -centre panel, and handed it to the manager, who wrote his name in -Chinese characters down the margin. There was just time for this when -the ceremony of drawing the winning numbers began. The manager brought -out a cylindrical bamboo vessel and placed in it the eighty characters -found on the tickets, each written on a small piece of paper and rolled -into a little pill or ball. Then he looked up at the Klondyker. - -“You likee mix ’em up?” he asked. The stranger assented, and, having -stirred up the pellets, was gravely handed a dime by the treasurer of -the company. - -The pellets were then drawn forth, one by one, and placed in four bowls -in rotation till all were disposed of. The manager now nodded to Coffin, -who came up to the table. “You shake ’em dice?” said the Chinaman. -Coffin nodded. - -“You see this die?” he explained to the Klondyker. “It’s numbered up to -four, and the number decides which bowl contains the lucky numbers on -the ticket. Here goes! _Three!_” - -The third bowl was accordingly emptied, and the numbers on the pellets -of rolled paper were read off and entered in a book. The Chinese now -began to show signs of excitement. Tickets were produced from the -pockets of their dark blouses and were scanned with interest as the -winning numbers were called out one by one. They crowded to the shoulder -of the manager as he unfolded the pellets, and jabbered unintelligible -oaths and blessings as the characters were revealed. Coffin beckoned to -one who appeared to have no investment, and showed him the joint ticket, -asking him to point out the spots as they were read. The first five were -unmarked, but then to their delight the long nail of the Chinaman’s -finger pointed to three spots in succession. In another minute two more -marked characters won, and then, after a series of failures, the last -two numbers read proved to be Coffin’s selection. The Chinaman’s eyes -snapped, and he cried out a few words, spreading the news over the room. -In an instant the two white men were surrounded, and a babel of -ejaculations began. - -“What the devil does it mean? Do we win?” asked the Klondyker. - -“Do we win! Can a duck swim? We’ve got seven lucky spots! Twenty-four -hundred dollars, if we don’t have to divide with some son of a -she-monkey!” and Coffin, grabbing his hat in his right hand, pranced -about the room and began on the Harvard yell. - -The Chinamen, shocked at the noise, and in imminent fear of attracting -attention to the illegal enterprise, had grabbed him and stifled his -fifth “Rah!” when, suddenly, with a hoarse yelp, the watchman at the -look-out burst into the room, giving the alarm for a raid of the police, -and threw two massive oaken bars across the iron door. In an instant the -tickets, pellets, and books were swept into a sack, and the men -scattered in all directions, sweeping down tables and over chairs to -escape arrest. - -“Run for your life, or we’ll get pulled!” Coffin called out to the -Klondyker, who still held the ticket in his hand, and he made a break -for one of the blue doors. It was slammed in his face by a retreating -scout. “Over here!” the Klondyker cried, setting his foot to another -door and forcing it open. By this time the outer barrier at the entrance -from the restaurant had been forced, and the police began with crowbars -and sledge-hammers at the inner door. Coffin ran for the exit, but -stumbled and fell across a chair, striking his diaphragm with a shock -that knocked the wind from his lungs. For fully a minute he lay there -writhing, without the power to move, gasping vainly for breath. The -blows on the door were redoubled in energy, and of a sudden the wooden -bars split and gave way, the lock shot off into the room, the hinges -broke through the woodwork jambs, and the door toppled and fell. It was -now too late for the Freshman to escape; a dozen men jumped into the -room and seized him with the few Chinamen left. To his dazed surprise -the attacking party was the very same group of men he had taken for -Eastern tourists as he entered, now evidently plain-clothes detectives -who had been cunningly disguised to escape suspicion. - -These, after their prisoners had been handcuffed, ran here and there, -dragging more refugees by their queues in bunches from adjoining rooms -and halls, but most had made good their escape through the many secret -exits, hurrying, at the first warning, to the roof, to underground -passages in the cellar, through the party walls to other buildings. - -When the last man had been secured, the crestfallen captives were taken -downstairs, loaded into two patrol-wagons, and driven to the California -Street Station. The Klondyker was not among their number. - -As the Freshman was searched and his hundred dollars taken and sealed in -an envelope with his name, the booking-sergeant told him that if he -wished to deposit cash bail with the bond-clerk at the City Hall he -would be released. He might send the money by a messenger, who would -return with his certificate of bail. - -“How much will it be?” Coffin asked. - -“One hundred, probably.” - -“Then I can’t pay a messenger, for that’s exactly all I have with me.” - -“Oh, well,” said the sergeant, looking at him indulgently, “there’s an -officer going up to the Hall on an errand, and coming back pretty soon. -I’ll get him to take up your money, if you want.” - -The Chinamen were put into a cell together, and Coffin was locked in a -separate compartment containing a single occupant, a weazened little man -with a chin beard, wearing a pepper-and-salt suit. At the irruption of -visitors, there arose from the women’s cell an inhuman clamor, raised by -two wretched creatures. They shrieked like fiends of the pit wailing in -mockery at the spirits of the damned. Coffin put his hands to his ears. - -His new companion regarded him with a watery blue eye. “All-fired -nuisance, ain’t it? Gosh, they yelp like seals at the Cliff House! I -wish the sergeant would turn the hose on ’em. I would. They go off every -twenty minutes, like a Connecticut alarm-clock. Never mind, we’ll get -out of this soon. What were you pulled for?” - -Coffin narrated his adventures in Chinatown. - -“Oh, you’re all right, then, it’s just a periodical spasm of virtue by -the police. But I’m in for it. They’re goin’ to sock it to me, by -Jiminy!” - -“What’s the matter?” Coffin asked. - -The little Yankee crept over to the Freshman’s ear and whispered -mysteriously, “Grand larceny! They ain’t charged me with it yet, but -they’re holdin’ me till they can collect evidence. And me a reformed -man. I’m a miserable sinner, but I’ve repented, and I’ve paid back -everything to the last cent!” - -His confession, which was becoming per-fervent, was here interrupted by -a policeman who was looking through the cells. “Hello, Eli,” he said, -with a sarcastic grin, “back again? I thought it was about time!” - -“Say, what’s our little blue-eyed friend been up to, officer?” the -Freshman inquired. - -The man laughed. “Vagrancy, of course. Just look at him. Ain’t he got -the eye of a grafter? We find him begging on the street every little -while, but he’ll get off with a reprimand. He always has plenty of money -on him. He’s nutty. Crazy as a hatter, ain’t you, Eli?” He laughed again -and passed on. - -“Did you hear that?” cried the little man, angrily. “He pretends I ain’t -up for felony, but I am, though they can’t prove it. It’s persecution, -that’s what it is. I don’t mind the fine for vagrancy, but I’m afraid if -I have to go to jail I’ll lose my car.” - -“Lose your car!” said Coffin, amused at the little old man’s vagaries. -“You don’t think a street-car will wait for you while you’re bailed out, -do you?” - -“Mine will,” Eli replied. “That is, if it ain’t stolen.” - -“Stolen! Gee Whizz, you’re an Alice in Wonderland, all right! Perhaps -you will inform me how they steal street-cars in San Francisco, and how -you happen to have one to be stolen.” - -“I see you don’t believe it,” said the Yankee. “But it’s as true as -Gospel. I’ll tell you the whole story and then you’ll think better of -me.” - -So saying, he fastened his watery blue eyes upon the Freshman and gave -him the history of his life. - - - THE STORY OF THE RETIRED CAR-CONDUCTOR - -I was born and brought up in Duxbury, Massachusetts, and I had a close -call to escape bein’ named Wrestling Brewster, one of my mother’s family -names. My father voted for just plain Eli Cook, howsomever, and dad most -always generally won. It might have made considerable difference to me, -maybe, for as it was, whether from my name or nature, I rather took -after my father, who was no mortal good. Father was what Old Colony -folks call “clever,” just a shif’less ne’er-do-well, handy enough when -he got to work, but a sort of a Jack-of-all-trades and master of none. -Never went to church, fished on Sundays, smoked like a chimney and -chewed like a cow, easy to get on with and hard to drive—no more -backbone than a clam, my mother used to say. And what he was, I am, with -just enough Brewster in me to make me repent, but not enough to hinder -me from going astray. - -I come out here to Californy in ’49, and hoofed it most all the way. I -calculated to get rich without workin’, but I reckoned without my host. -I looked for somethin’ easy till I got as thin as a yaller dog, and for -twenty year I held on that way by my eyelids, pickin’ up odd jobs and -loafin’ and whittlin’ sticks in between times. Then I got a place as -driver on the Folsom Street hoss-car line, and that’s where I made my -fortune by hook or crook, till I retired. - -If I’d had a drop more Brewster blood I wouldn’t have did what I did, -but I kind of fell into the way of piecin’ out my salary the way every -one else did who worked for the company, and my conscience didn’t give -me no trouble for a considerable spell. It was only stealin’ from a -corporation, anyway, and I reckoned they could afford it, with the -scrimpin’ pay they give us. - -In them days the company ran them little double-ender cars with ten-foot -bodies. When I got to the end of the route and drove my team round and -hitched up at t’other end, I had to take out the old Slawson fare-box -and set it up in front, for they didn’t have no conductors in early -days. I s’pose I kind of hated to carry such a load of money, bein’ more -or less of a shirk, and I got into the way of turning her upside down -and shakin’ out a few nickels every time. They come out easy, I’ll say -that for ’em, and it wa’n’t no trick at all to clean up a dollar or so -every day, and twice as much on Sundays. - -Well, so long as all the boys was a-doin’ the same thing, the loss -wa’n’t noticed, but somehow or other the company got a few honest men on -the line, and they turned in so much more money than we did every night -that the old man smelled a mouse. He put in the new Willis patent -fare-box that was durned hard to beat. It had a little three-cornered -wheel inside that acted like a valve, and nothin’ that went in would -come out, either by turnin’ the box upside down, or by usin’ the wire -pokers we experimented with. They wa’n’t nothin’ for it but to git keys, -and so keys we got. It looked a heap more like stealin’ than it did -before, but it was rather easier. Some of the boys was caught at it, but -as luck would have it, nobody never suspected me, and I took out my -little old percentage regular as a faro dealer. - -I salted down my money in the Hibernia Bank, and I called it my sinkin’ -fund, which it was for sure sinkin’ my soul down deeper and deeper into -the bottomless pit. I’m a-goin’ to make a clean breast of it, -howsomever, and I own up I was about as bad as the rest of ’em, and four -times as sharp at the game. - -After a while the system was improved, and the company got new rollin’ -stock with all two-horse cars. I was a conductor then, and I ran on No. -27 till I was off the road. The Gardner punch was my first experience in -knockin’ down fares right in the face and eyes of everybody, and I had -figgered a way to “hold out” long before I had the nerve to try it. But -Lord! it was as easy as fallin’ off a log, when you knew how. You see, -we sold a five-coupon ticket for a quarter, and we had to slice off a -section for every fare, with a candle-snuffer arrangement, the check -droppin’ into a little box on the under jaw of the nippers. All we had -to do was to “build up” on ’em. You held back a lot of clipped tickets, -with two or three or four coupons left, as the case might be, and you -kept ’em underneath the bunch of regular tickets for sale. Say a man -handed you a whole ticket for two fares. You made a bluff at cuttin’ it, -and handed him back a three-coupon ticket from underneath your rubber -band. You kept his whole one for yourself, and sold it to the next -passenger for two bits. - -Well, Jim Williams was caught red-handed, and Gardner’s system went to -Jericho. Next they sprung the regular bell-punch on us, the kind you -“punch in the presence of the passenjaire.” We had no trouble with that. -They was a dummy palm-bell manufactured almost simultaneous, and we’d -ring up fares without punchin’ at all. The breastplate registers was -worked similar, with a bell inside your vest connected with a button. It -was as easy as pie, providin’ nobody watched the numbers on the -indicator while you was ringin’ up. - -I left the road before they adopted the stationary registers or clock -machines. I admit they’re ingenious, but still I ain’t got no doubt -that, given a good big crowd and no spotters, I could manage to make my -expenses with the rest of the boys. - -But I won’t go round Robin Hood’s barn to spin out the story. The result -was that after about fifteen years of patient, unremittin’ industry, I -had somethin’ like $12,000 in the bank, and what was left of my New -England conscience shootin’ through me like rheumatism. It didn’t bother -me so much at first, but when once Brewster blood begins to boil it -don’t slow up in a hurry. Eli Cook didn’t seem to care a continental, -but they was a whole lot of Pilgrim Fathers behind me that was bound to -testify sooner or later. - -I tried to settle down and get into some quiet business, where I -wouldn’t have no more trickery to do than maybe put a little terra alba -in the sugar and peanuts in the coffee. But after lookin’ round I -hankered after makin’ money easier, and so I bought minin’ stocks and -hung on, assessment after assessment, like grim Death, till, by Jimminy! -one day I’ll be durned if I didn’t calculate I had $30,000 to the good, -if I sold. I pulled out the day before the slump. I don’t know why -Providence favored my fortune, which was so wickedly come by, and I -don’t know why, after doin’ so well, I didn’t have spunk enough to pay -back the company, but, anyhow, I wa’n’t yet waked up to feel full -consciousness of sin, and I shut my ears to the callin’ to repentance. - -Now, all this time, bein’ of a South Shore family of seafaring men -mostly, I had a hankerin’ after the water. So, when the first lots was -cut up, out to the Beach, I bought a parcel of land on the shore. I used -to go out there all the time to sit on my own sand, and recollect how it -used to feel to get a good dry heat on my bare legs when I was a boy -down to Duxbury. If they had only been clams there, I’d have been as -happy as a pollywog in a hogshead of rain water. - -One day I was walkin’ out there, and as I passed the company’s stables I -see a sign out, “Cars for Sale, Cheap,” and I went in to see ’em. I -speered round the yard till what did I see but old 27, my car, settin’ -there without wheels, lookin’ as shabby as Job’s cat! I asked the -foreman how much they wanted for it, and I got it for ten dollars. I -hired a dray and moved the thing out to the Beach that very afternoon. I -set it up on two sills on my lot, calculatin’ I could use it for a cabin -to hang out in, over Sunday, and it was as steady as Plymouth Rock, and -made as cute a little room as you’d want to see. Every time I went I -tinkered round and fixed her up more, till I had a good bunk at one end, -lockers under the seats, and a trig little cellar beneath, where I kept -canned stuff. - -’Twa’n’t long before I regularly moved out there and stayed for good. -Just from force of habit, I expect, at first, I rung two bells every -time I got on, and one bell before I got off, and I always keep it up, -just as if the old car was really on the rails. I never went in and set -down but I felt as if No. 27 was poundin’ along toward Woodward’s -Gardens, with the hosses on a jog trot. Sometimes when the rain was -drivin’ down and the wind blowin’ like all possessed, and it was pitch -dark outside, with the surf rollin’, I’d put down my pipe and go out on -the platform, and set the brake up just as tight as I could. I don’t -know why, but it kind of give me a sense of security. - -It wa’n’t long before I begun to feel a positive affection for that old -car, what with the years I’d spent on it, and livin’ ’way out there to -the Beach alone with nothin’ to think about but the way I’d robbed the -company. No. 27 was more like a pet dog than a house. You can talk about -ships bein’ like women, and havin’ queer ways and moods, but you go to -work and take an old car, and it’s more like folks than a second cousin; -and it’s got sense and temper, I’m persuaded of that. - -But it wa’n’t long before No. 27 begun to act queer. I noticed it a -considerable spell before I realized just what was wrong. It wouldn’t -stay still a minute. It groaned and sighed like a sinner on the anxious -seat. I couldn’t ease it any way I tried. It worked off the sills, and -just wallowed in the sand. The sand drifts like snow at the Beach, and -often I used to have to dig myself out the door after a sou’wester. I -didn’t mind bein’ alone so much, for I had a book of my Uncle Joshua -Cook’s sermons to read, but the way that old car talked to itself got on -my nerves. The windows rattled, and sometimes a shutter would fall with -a bang, sudden, and I’d jump half out of my skin. Then, too, that -stealin’ was preyin’ on my mind, and I couldn’t help harpin’ on it. They -was a Slawson fare-box still on the front of the car, and finally I got -to goin’ in t’other way to avoid it. Then the green light got to -watchin’ me, and I begun to drink, for I felt the full qualms of the -unrighteous, and the car itself seemed to know it was defiled by my sin. - -Finally, one night, I come home from the Cliff House, where I’d been -warmin’ up my courage, and when I got back to No. 27 I see the green -lantern I’d left lit was a burnin’ low, almost out. I got up on the -platform and tried to ring two bells as usual, but the cord broke in my -hands. I tried the door, but it wouldn’t budge. That blamed car just -naturally refused to recognize me, and wouldn’t let me in. Then I sat -down in the sand and cried like a fool, and wondered what was wrong. - -It bust on me like a light from the sky, and the callin’ of a sinner to -repentance, sayin’, “Come now, this is the appointed time.” All I’d done -in the old days rose up in front of me, and right there I experienced a -change of heart and was convicted of sin. It come sudden, and I acted -sudden. I didn’t stop to think nor reason, nor to set my mortal mind -against the judgment of Heaven and that car, but I rose up confident of -grace, and went round to the front platform where the fare-box was, and -dropped in a nickel and tried the bell. The cord wa’n’t broke on this -side, and she rung all right. The light flared up again, and the door -opened as easy as a snuff-box. I was saved. - -From that time on I never got aboard without payin’ my fare, and when -the box was full I’d turn it over to the treasurer of the company. Of -course I might have drawn out my money in the bank and paid it all up at -once, but it seemed to me that this means was shown me, so that I would -be reminded of my wickedness every day and keep in the road of -repentance. But even then, sometimes I backslid and fell from grace when -I emptied out the box. Some of the money would stick to my fingers, and -it seemed as if I couldn’t stop stealin’ from the company. But afterward -I’d repent and put in a quarter or even a half dollar for my fare to -make up, and in that way I went on tryin’ to lead a better life, and -keep in the straight and narrer road of salvation. - -Well, I thought then that No. 27 would settle down and give me some -peace of mind, but it wa’n’t long before that car begun to get uneasy -again. I didn’t know what in creation to make of it, and it beat all the -way it took on. I drew out $5,000 of good securities that was payin’ -nine per cent. and sent it all in gold coin packed in a barrel of barley -to the company, but that didn’t do no good at all. The car was plum -crazy, and nothin’ seemed to satisfy the critter. - -No. 27 settled and sobbed and sighed like a fellow that’s been jilted by -a flirt. They wa’n’t no doin’ nothin’ with it. I puttered over it and -tightened all the nuts, but it snivelled and whined like a sick pup -every time the wind blew. When the fog come in, the drops of water stood -on the window panes like tears, and every gale made the body tremble -like a girl bein’ vaccinated. The old car must be sick, I thought, and I -greased all the slides and hinges with cod-liver oil. The thing only -wheezed worse than ever. I thought likely it might be just fleas, for -the sand is full of ’em, and I sponged the cushions with benzine. It -wa’n’t no more use than nothin’ at all! - -Perhaps I ain’t got no call to boast, but I flatter myself I found out -what was lackin’ as soon as most would have done. Howsomever, I spent a -good deal of time walkin’ round the Beach thinkin’ it over. They’s quite -a colony of us out there now; seemed like my car drew out a lot of -others, until they’s more than a baker’s dozen of ’em scattered around, -built up and managed in different ways, accordin’ to the ideas of their -owners. Some h’ist ’em up and build a house underneath, some put two -alongside and rip out the walls, some put ’em end to end, some make -chambers of ’em and some settin’-rooms. They call the colony -Carville-by-the-Sea, and it looks for all the world like some -new-fangled sort of Chinatown. - -I was walkin’ round one day, inspectin’ the new additions to the place, -when I see a car I thought I recognised. I went up, and if it wa’n’t a -Fifth Street body, and as far as I could see, it must have been the very -one old 27 used to transfer with in the old days! It was numbered 18, -and I remembered how she used to wait for us on the corner when we was -late. Then I understood what was the matter with my car. It was just -naturally pinin’ away for its old mate. - -Well, sir, I went to the owner and bought No. 18 at his own price. I’d -have paid twenty-five dollars if he’d asked it. I moved her onto my lot, -put a foundation under her, sideways to 27, like an ell to a farm-house. -And it seemed to me I noticed old 27 give a grunt and settle down in -peace and contentment. I was a good guesser. I hitched ’em together with -a little stoop, covered over so as to make the two practically one, and -then I give the whole thing a fresh coat of white paint, and cleaned up -the windows and swept out till it was all spick and span. And I never -had no trouble with No. 27 after that, nor with my own conscience -neither, for now the money’s all paid back with interest. - -Well, sir, maybe you won’t believe it, and maybe you will, but about a -year after the two was hitched together a funny thing happened. One day -morning I went outdoors, and see something on the sand beside No. 18. My -eyes stuck out like a fifer’s thumb when I recognised what it was. It -was a plum new red wheelbarrow! - - - - - CHAPTER VII - THE EX-MEDIUM’S ADVENTURE: THE INVOLUNTARY SUICIDE - - -Warmed by his copious draughts of wine, stimulated by the comradeship of -his fellow-adventurers, and his stomach packed to the top corner with -rich foods, Professor Vango left Coffee John’s, rejoicing in a brave -disregard for the troubles that had been for so long pursuing him. His -superstitious terrors had subsided, and for a while he was a man again. - -Clay Street was empty, and stretched black and narrow to the -water-front. Below him lay the wholesale commercial quarter of the town -with its blocks of deserted warehouses, silent and dark. It was a part -of San Francisco almost unknown to the ex-medium, and now, at midnight, -obscure and bewildering, a place of possibilities. He was for -adventures, and he decided to seek them in the inscrutable region of the -docks. - -He stepped boldly down the street, but it was not long before the echoes -of his footsteps struck him chill with dread. The packing-cases upon the -curb cast shadows where fearsome things might lurk. He began to watch -with a roving eye the crossings and alleys, from which some form might -come upon him unawares, and he cast sharp glances over his shoulder for -the appearance of the spirit that had cowed him. The thought of Mrs. -Higgins brought him back to his old torture. He felt as though she were -always round the next corner. - -He had almost reached East Street, when he yielded to his qualms and -bolted into the warmth and light of the Bowsprit Saloon to drown his -forebodings in two schooners of steam beer. So disappeared Coffee John’s -luck-dime, and with it the stimulating effects of his exordium. Vango’s -short glow of comfort was, however, but a respite, for shortly after -midnight the bar closed, and he was sent forth again into the perilous -night. - -He was pacing up and down the stone arcade of the Ferry Building, -dismally anticipating the prospect of walking the city streets alone -with his curse, when it occurred to him that he might possibly make his -way to Oakland. Oakland was less strenuous; it was calm, sober, -respectable, free from the distressing torments of San Francisco. Many a -time he had met Mrs. Higgins upon the dock behind the waiting-room, and -he knew the way well. He dodged slyly up the wagon-track, round the -corner of the baggage-room, to the slip where the steamer Piedmont was -waiting to set out on her last trip. As he came to the apron a few -belated commuters were running for the boat. He joined them without -being observed, and was hurried aboard by a warning from the deck-hands. -Just as he reached the bib the bridge was drawn up, the hawsers cast -off, and with a deep roaring whistle the vessel started, gathered way, -and, urged by the jingle-bell, shot out of the slip into the waters of -the Bay. - -The crowds went forward, upstairs, to the protection of the cabin, but -Professor Vango stayed by the after-rail alone, where a chain was -stretched across the open stern. A ragged mist lay upon the harbour, -hanging to the surface of the water like a blanket, torn open sometimes -by a passing gust of wind and closing up to a thicker fog beyond. High -in the air, it was clearer, and the stars shone bright. - -The thumping paddle-wheels, the phosphorescent waves, and the fey -obscurity of the night wrought heavily upon Vango’s emotion, and the -fumes of alcohol mingled in his brain. He was not happy; things went -round a bit, and he had hard work controlling his thoughts. He longed -for the gay cheerfulness of the saloon above, but he felt a need of the -sharp night air to revive him, first. He watched the stairway -suspiciously, feeling sure that the ghost of Mrs. Higgins, if she were -to appear, would come that way. - -In point of fact, a woman did soon descend from the upper deck, and -stood at the bottom of the stairs in some uncertainty, gazing about her. -She was a heavy, middle-aged blonde, in a long black cape and veil, the -type of a thousand weak, impressionable widows, and, in the dusk, -through the glaze of Vango’s eyes, a passable counterfeit of the late -lamented Mrs. Higgins. She soon perceived him, and came forward a few -steps, while he retreated as far away, putting her off with futile -gestures. Curious at this exhibition, the woman walked up to him with a -question on her lips. - -She was, in all probability, in search of nothing more than a glass of -water, but the medium had no more than time to hear, “Tell me where—” -before he had mentally completed the inquiry for her. “Where—where is -Lilian?” she meant, of course. Appalled, he had jumped over the chain in -the stern, and as she approached with that demand piercing his -conscience-stricken soul, he shrank back unconsciously. The first step -carried him to the extreme end of the boat, the second led him, with a -splashing fall, into the Bay. The waters closed over him, and the -steamer swept on. - -When he came to the surface, spluttering but sober at last in the face -of a new and more tangible danger, he heard the rising staccato of a -woman’s shriek, and saw a pyramid of lights fading into the fog. Then he -sank again, and all was cold, black, and wet. - - * * * * * - -He rose to the surface in a space clear of mist, dimly lighted by a wisp -of moon. A few feet away a fruit-crate bobbed upon the waves in the -steamer’s wake, and for this he swam. By placing it under his body, he -found he could float well enough to keep his nose out of water, -tolerably secure from drowning, for a time at least. - -The mist closed in upon him, was swept asunder, and shut down again. The -current was bearing him toward the harbour entrance he decided, and, as -he had fallen overboard about opposite Goat Island, he must by this time -be in the fairway, drifting for the Golden Gate and the Pacific. He -might, if his endurance held out, catch sight of some ship anchored in -the stream, and hail her crew. But no lights appeared, and he grew -deathly cold and stiff. - -In Professor Vango’s ears the sobbing of the siren on Lime Point was -lulling him to a sleep that promised eternal forgetfulness, and the -Alcatraz Island bell was tolling grewsomely of his passing, when his -senses were aroused by a brisker note that came in quick, padded beats -through the fog. He summoned his drowsy wits for a last effort, and -gazed into the gloom. Suddenly, piercing the cloudy curtain drawn about -him, came a small launch, stern on, churning its way at full speed -straight at him. - -In another moment it would have sped past him, to be swallowed up in the -darkness again, but, with a mighty struggle, he threw himself at the -boat, and, dodging the whirling propeller, clutched the rail with a -violence that made the craft careen. It dipped as if to throw him off, -but Vango held on and screamed hoarsely for help. No reply came from the -boat, nor was anybody to be seen in it, so at last he made shift to -climb aboard and reach the cock-pit. - -The vapour and darkness lay about him like a pall, muffling even the -outlines of the boat itself; no lights were burning aboard. Shivering, -perplexed, terrified, but grateful for his preservation, and wondering -where his fate had led him, the Professor started on a further -examination of the launch. - -He had taken but a few steps, when his foot struck a soft something -extended upon the floor. His teeth chattered with fear as he groped down -and made it out to be a human form. That it was a woman, he discovered -by the long hair that had overflowed her shoulders in crisp waves, and a -touch of her body showed that she was alive. He lifted her to a sitting -posture on the seat, then loosened her dress at the neck, and chafed her -wrists and temples. Her breath soon came in gasps; she sighed heavily -and sat erect, with a shudder. She gazed into his face in the dimness, -then cast her eyes over the boat and fell to weeping. - -So, for some time, the launch, carrying its two wretched passengers, and -what more Vango dared not guess, plunged on insanely through the fog. -The medium knew nothing of practical affairs; psychology was his art, -and chicanery his science; but even had he been mechanic enough to stop -and reverse the engine in the dark, it would have taken a considerable -acquaintance with the Bay of San Francisco to have set and kept any -logical course in such a night. Wrapped in a tarpaulin which he found by -him, under which his dripping form shivered in misery, the unhappy man -sat, baffled, mystified, hopeless, too beat about in his mind even to -wonder. The woman cried on and the propeller kept up its rhythmic thud, -thud, thud, dragging the little vessel where it would. - -Suddenly the swing of the choppy sea flung the woman at full length -across the seat and brought her to her senses. She arose, now, and -scanned the fog, then peered curiously at the medium, who was silent -from very terror. - -“Where are we? Where, in Heaven’s name, did you come from?” she cried, -sharply, and she approached him with a searching gaze. - -Trickster that he was, he sought some wile to outwit her. He mumbled -something about having fallen off Fishermen’s Wharf. - -She stumbled to the cuddy under the seat and brought out a lantern and a -box of matches. With these she obtained a light and held it flaring in -Vango’s face. “I don’t know who you are,” she said, “but you’ve got to -help me get this boat back. Are you armed?” - -The medium made an emphatic denial, for the woman’s face was sternly -set. She was indubitably a quadroon, by evidence of her creamy, swarthy -skin and the tight curls of her hair. Her dark eyes burned in the -lamplight under heavy, knotted brows, her full lips drawing apart like a -dog’s to show a line of white, straight teeth. She was the picture of -Judith ready to strike, and Vango trembled under her gaze till she -turned from him with an expression of contempt. - -“Come aft and help me with the machinery,” she commanded. “We can’t keep -on, Heaven knows where, at full speed backward through weather like -this. Fi-fi, now, and mind your feet!” - -They went to the tiny engine where, fumbling with the levers and -stop-cocks, she brought the machinery to a stop. The silence crowded -down upon them, as if someone had just died. Vango noticed that the -woman kept between him and the starboard rail with some secret intent, -and, as the two eyed each other, he caught sight of a revolver swinging -from her belt. He saw something else, also, that made his heart stop -beating for an instant; and then the quadroon held up her hand and -listened attentively. - -“Do you hear a bell?” she asked. - -Scarcely had she spoken when in the distance a fog-whistle sang out -across the water, and through the flying scud a yellow light winked and -went out. - -“We’re right off Alcatraz,” she said. “Here, you stand by this lever and -mind my orders. Watch now, how I do it. Way forward for full speed -ahead, way back to reverse, and midway to stop; and turn off the naphtha -at this throttle. I’ll take the wheel, and we’ll make across for the -Lombard Street Wharf. Keep a look-out ahead, and let me know the instant -you see a light, or anything!” - -She went forward to the wheel, and the launch forged ahead at half-speed -with Vango shuddering at the engine. But it was not only the piercing -wind that froze him stiff as he stood, for there was a ghastly horror -aboard that was almost unbearable. As the woman had stood by the engine, -swinging her lantern to show the working of the machinery, the light had -sought out one corner after another, and, though she had stood between, -the rays fell once upon an object protruding from beneath the seat. It -was a foot; there was no mistaking the outline, though the light had -touched it but for an instant. With all his resolution he put the sight -out of his mind and said no word to her, for her eyes terrified him, and -he dared not question. - -She had, however, left the lantern behind to illuminate the machine, and -it now slanted past and flickered on the toe of that foot. He tried to -remove his eyes from it, but the thing held him with a morbid -fascination. Look where he would, it stuck in the end of his eye and -held him in an anguish. He kept his hand ready to the lever, and -succeeded in obeying the woman’s orders to stop, go ahead, or back, but -he acted as one hypnotised. - -In about half an hour a dim light off the bow warned them off Lombard -Street pier, and from here they crawled slowly past the water-front, -guided by the lights on the sea-wall and the lanterns of ships in the -stream. Below the Pacific Mail dock their run was straight for Mission -Rock, and from there to the Potrero flats, but they were continually -getting off their course and regaining it, beating about this way and -that, confused in direction by the lights in the fog. - -During this time the two exchanged hardly a word that did not have to do -with the navigation of the boat. Vango watched her, silhouetted against -the mist as she bent to one side and the other, and the distressing -tensity of the situation did not prevent him now from racking his wits -to find some possible explanation of her identity and purpose. He was a -keen observer and used to making shrewd guesses, but this was too much -for him. - -At last, in the gray of the dawn, the launch arrived off Hunter’s Point, -and the medium’s eyes were straining through the murk to see some -landing pier, when he received a sudden summons to stop the boat. He -obeyed and looked up at the woman, who came aft. He flattened himself -against the rail in terror of her, for, sure now that one murder had -been done aboard the launch, he feared another. - -“Now,” said the quadroon woman, “I want to know who you are and all -about you.” - -In a few stuttering syllables he told her his story, persisting with a -childish fatuity in the deceit he had already begun, and welding to it -bits of truth from the strange procession of events that had carried him -through the past few months. When he mentioned the fact that he was a -medium, he noticed a change in the woman’s attitude immediately. His -cunning awoke, and the sharper began to assert himself, following this -clew, telling of how many persons he had aided with his wonderful -clairvoyant powers, and the success of his trances. It is needless to -say that he did not mention Mrs. Higgins, nor his reason for having -given up his practice. As he rolled off the glib catch-words and phrases -of his trade, he watched the woman sharply through his drooping eyelids -with the agile scrutiny of a professional trickster, and sought in her -appearance some clew to her secret. - -With all her determination, the woman was undoubtedly sadly distraught. -The pistol by her side hinted at violence. Her dishevelled hair, the -distraction of her garments, her clinched fists and tightened brows told -clearly of some moving experience. Above all, the corpse beside the -engine, and her attempts to hide it, proclaimed some secret tragedy. Yet -while her mouth trembled her eyes were steady; if he made a wrong guess -it might not be well for him. - -At the end of his explanations she had melted in a burst of feminine -credulity and hunger for the marvellous. “Then you can help me,” she -exclaimed, throwing herself upon his leadership in a swift submission to -the dominant sex. “You _must_ help me! I am in great trouble, and what -is to be done must be done quickly. Can you hold a sitting now? I want -to find something as soon as I can—it is of the greatest importance—I -would give any price to know where to find it. You must get your spirit -friends to help me!” - -The medium shuffled. “You’re rather nervous, and the conditions ain’t -favourable when a party is excited or sufferin’ from excitin’ emotions. -The proper degree of mutuality ain’t to be obtained unless a sitter is -what you might call undisturbed.” Then he put all his shrewdness into a -piercing gaze. “Besides, you got murder on you! I see a red aura -hoverin’ over you like you had bloody hands!” - -At this the quadroon burst out, “I haven’t, but I wish I had, and it -isn’t my fault!” - -“Confession is good for the soul of a party,” Vango said, with unction. - -“I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll only promise to help me. I am -innocent of any real crime, I swear before God! But I tried to kill a -man to-night. It was in self-defence, though.” - -She took the lantern, and, setting the light on the seat, pointed -silently to the body. “Look at him!” she said. - -After a heroic conflict with his repugnance the medium rolled the corpse -over till it lay face up. The dead man was a Chinaman. He could see that -by his clothes and hair, although his face was half masked with clotted -blood. Two shocking gashes in the forehead turned Vango sick with -horror. He looked up at the woman with fear in his eyes, and asked: - -“Who was the deceased?” - -“It was my husband,” she said, and her sobs choked her. “We must get him -ashore and put him in the house, and then we can decide what next, and -perhaps you can help me. There’s our pier, over there,” and she pointed -out the light on a little wharf running out from the gloom. She took the -wheel again, and the launch was docked at the pier. - -As Vango disembarked and prepared to help her with the corpse, the -quadroon woman quickly stopped him. “Here,” she said, pointing to a -large wooden case in the bow, “this must go ashore first. Take it into -the shed there and watch out that you’re not seen. It won’t do for the -police to see it, or any of the neighbours. I’d rather they saw the -body!” - -She stooped and untied a coil of rope from the case, and then the two -lifted it to the floating stage. It weighed something over a hundred -pounds, and it was all they could do to carry it together up the steep -incline and along the pier to the shed. The woman took a key from her -pocket, and unlocked the door. When the case was inside the room, which -was scantily furnished with a few chairs and tables, they returned to -the launch. - -As they approached the stage, Vango thought of the woman’s request for a -seance, and her words struck him as curious. He asked her carelessly -what it was she wished to find. - -“A scrap of red paper, with Chinese writing on it,” was the reply. She -had no more than uttered the words, when, glancing over at the launch, -Vango saw on the floor in the rays of the lantern a red spot. Looking -more closely, he saw that it was undoubtedly the very paper the woman -wanted. He turned suddenly and faced her to prevent her seeing it, and -seized her hand. Then he sighed heavily, passing his free hand over his -eyes. - -“I feel a vibration of a self-independent message from my control,” he -said, and fetched a dramatic shudder. “They is a kind of a pain in my -head, as though a party had passed out of a stab like.” - -This revelation was made in a die-away voice, as if from many miles off, -and he glanced through a slit in his lids at the quadroon to see how she -was taking it. Then he shuddered again more violently, but this time -without dissimulation. His hand gripped hers like a wrestler’s, his eyes -leaped past her, over her shoulder, staring; for there, dimly shadowed -in the obscurity, holding up a spectral arm in warning, was Mrs. -Higgins! - -Vango’s soul was torn between greed and fear. Here was another dupe who -could restore his fortune, the way to cajole her plain before him—there -was the threatening form of his Nemesis protesting against his roguery, -and he faltered in dread. - -“Oh, what is it, what is it?” the quadroon woman cried, piteously. - -The medium’s cupidity won, and the credulous woman in the flesh was more -potent than her sister in the spirit. He shut his eyes and went -desperately on: - -“She gives me this message: What you’re a-lookin’ for will be found -sooner than what you expect, and you’ll come by it on the water. You’ll -be guided to it by a party who is a good friend to you and you can -trust, and she gives me the letter ’V.’ He’s a dark-complected man with -a beard, and there’ll be money a-comin’ to him through your help.” - -Having trembled again, and sighed himself back to life, the medium -turned to her drowsily, as if he had just been called from bed. “Where -am I?” he said, in mock surprise, and then with a groan of relief, as he -saw that Mrs. Higgins had disappeared, he added, “Oh, what was I sayin’? -I must have went into a trance.” - -The quadroon was in a high tremor of suspense. “What is your name? You -never told me,” she demanded. - -“My name?” he repeated, with a baby stare. “Vango, Professor Vango. -Why?” - -“Then you’re the man,” she cried. “Come! Help me take the body ashore, -for we must get him to Chinatown as quickly as the Lord will let us.” - -He waited till she had jumped into the boat and had laid her hand to the -corpse, and then he snatched for the paper and waved it in the air. “Did -you say it was a scrap of red paper you lost?” - -She sprang at him and looked closely. “This is the very piece I wanted! -Wong Yet is one of them!” she cried. “Now my poor husband can be -avenged! God bless you, Professor; you have proved your part of the -message is true, and I reckon I’ll prove mine. Find the other half of -this piece of paper for me, you can do it easy with your spirit guides, -and I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it!” - -They stooped over the dead Chinaman, and, with Professor Vango at the -shoulders and the quadroon at the knees, the corpse was carried up the -landing stage and along the pier to the shed. Here was hitched a -pitifully dirty white horse harnessed to a disreputable covered -laundry-wagon, spattered with adobe mud. Into this equipage they loaded -the remains, piled the case in the rear, and buttoned down the curtains. -Then the woman mounted with Vango to the seat and drove for the Potrero. - -As they turned into the San Bruno Road, the quadroon began her promised -confession. She could not proceed calmly, but was swept with alternate -passions of sorrow and rage. The medium, however, unmoved by her -suffering, eyed her craftily, watching his chance to feed upon her -superstitious hopes. - - - THE STORY OF THE QUADROON WOMAN - -I reckon you don’t guess a coloured person can hate white folks as much -as white folks hate niggers, but they do, sometimes, and I despise a -white man more than if I were a sure-enough black woman. - -My Daddy was born fairer than a good many white trash. Some folks never -knew he was a mulatto. My ma died when I was born. Daddy wanted me to be -educated, so I was sent to the Tuskegee Institute, where I learned -nursing. After that we lived a little way out of Mobile, and we were -right happy for a good while. - -Well, about two years back, there was an awful crime committed near our -place, and all the whites went pretty near crazy. You don’t have to be -told what it was, and you know what law amounts to at such times. Any -coloured man that is once suspected has no show at all. Daddy was -innocent, of course, but if he’d been guilty, I’d have stood up for him -just the same. He was put in jail, and they got up a mob to lynch him. I -got wind of it just in time. There was a sheriff’s deputy who was fond -of me, and he and I managed to get Daddy out and started West. - -I had no idea just where Daddy had gone, till one day I was looking over -the Mobile _Register_, and I come on a “Personal” that made me prick up -my ears. It looked like it might have been written by my Daddy for me to -see. It was addressed “Aber,” and when I turned the word backward, the -way you do sometimes with funny-sounding words, I saw it made my own -name, “Reba.” It read like this: - - Aber: Shall answer no further requests, as nobody can identify. - Sheriff called off. - - Odod. - -Now Odod was just Dodo backward; that was my pet name for Daddy when I -was little. The word “sheriff” seemed likely, but I couldn’t understand -that about “requests.” Then I thought to read the first letters of each -word, like the acrostics Daddy and I used to work out together in the -_Youth’s Companion_, and there it was, easy. Just “San Francisco.” Then -I knew Daddy was safe in California and wanted me to come on. - -I packed right up and bought a ticket, hoping to find him somehow when I -got there. I didn’t think anybody would suspicion my leaving, but I had -no idea how cruel white folks can be, till I had gone too far to come -back. Just after we left New Orleans I thought I saw a man following me. -I wasn’t quite certain till we changed cars at El Paso, but then I knew -he was a sure-enough detective. - -Talk about bloodhounds! That man never left me out of his sight for a -minute. He sat in the corner with his hat pulled over his face, and I -could just feel his eyes boring a hole in my back. - -First thing I did after I got to the Golden West Hotel was to mail a -personal to the _Herald_. It read like this: - - Odod: Any money will assist the cause. Help earnestly desired. We - are in trouble. - - Aber. - -I knew if he saw this message he’d see it meant “Am watched. Wait.” - -Well, I can’t tell you half what I went through that first week, with -the detective turning up everywhere I went, till I was afeared I’d die -of the strain. Sometimes I just felt like murdering him to get him out -of the way. I didn’t care so much for myself, but I was in mortal terror -lest he’d catch sight of Daddy and arrest him. I watched my chance, and -one night I went to bed early, leaving word at the office to be called -at five next morning. Then, at two o’clock I got up and went out, -leaving all my things in the hotel. - -I took a room down on Third Street, near Minna, and for three weeks I -was mighty careful where I went, waiting for the deputy to leave town. I -got a few jobs of nursing, so I paid my way for a spell; then I just -couldn’t stand it a day more, and I risked getting word to Daddy. So I -put another personal in the paper, telling him, the same way as before, -to meet me at the old Globe Hotel in Chinatown next night. You know the -old Globe used to be right smart of a hotel in early days, but now there -are hundreds of Chinamen living in it. It’s like an ant-hill, full of -all sorts of ways and corners to get out. - -I waited on the steps, keeping a sharp eye out for Daddy. But I hadn’t -been there more than ten minutes before I saw—not my dear old Dodo—but -the detective who had followed me all the way West. I ran down the steps -and walked up Dupont Street as fast as I dared, never looking round once -nor letting on I had seen him. - -When I got to the corner of Washington Street, only a matter of a block -away, I ran smack into a man. He grabbed me in his arms, and was crying -over me before I recognised him by his voice as Daddy, for he had a -light wig and a dyed mustache, and wore blue spectacles. I had no time -to kiss him even. I just whispered to him, “The detective—run for your -life!” - -Daddy gave one glance over his shoulder, and ran up Washington Street. -The detective saw him go, and dashed after him, and I followed them -both. They turned up a flight of steps into a big doorway, a little -piece up the block. - -I saw by the sign over the door that it was a Chinese theatre they had -gone into. - -But I just had to find out what was going on inside, so I paid the man -at the door fifty cents and went up the stairs. I had never been in such -a place before, of course, and at first I had no idea what to do or -where to go. There was no sign of Daddy or the detective anywhere, and -the place was filled with a great crowd of Chinamen on the seats. The -only white people I saw were a lady and two men sitting up on one side -of the open stage. I was bewildered and frightened to death, for there -was a horrible noise of big gongs and squeaking fiddles, and actors in -queer costumes singing and talking in shrill voices. - -A Chinaman came down the crowded aisle and took me up to a seat beside -the tourists on the stage, and there I had to sit in front of that crowd -of coolies while the play went on and on and on. I have seen Chinese -plays enough since, but then it was all new and terrible, for the -orchestra was right near me, making such a noise that I thought I’d go -mad, and the actors kept coming in and going out past me reciting in a -sing-song. I wanted to scream. - -Away up over the stage was a break in the wall where the ceiling went up -higher, and there was a little window almost above my head. There, once -I saw a head stuck out and a Chinaman looked at me, long and hard. This -made me more frightened than ever. - -Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it a minute longer, I heard the -voice of a white man swearing in the dressing-room behind the stage, and -then the detective came through the curtain looking like he was mad -enough to kill somebody. Frightened as I was at him, my heart was nigh -ready to break with joy, for I knew that Daddy must have escaped from -him somehow. He looked over the audience from the floor to the galleries -where the women were, and finally went out. - -As soon as he was out of sight a Chinaman came up to me and grinned. -“You likee see actor dlessing-loom?” he said. Something told me that he -was a friend and I got right up and followed him. We went into the -dressing-room, where all the costumes were hung on the wall and the -actors were putting on queer dresses and painting their faces, then up a -flight of stairs. I kept my eyes open sharp, looking everywhere for -Daddy. Above the stage was the joss-house room of the theatre with punks -burning, but the place was empty. Above that was the kitchen. - -Then we turned a corner, went down some steps and came to a padlocked -door. My guide unlocked it, put me outside on a platform, whistled and -left me, after saying, “You keep still; bimeby you catch him!” Then I -heard his footsteps going back into the building. - -I was alone on an outside balcony, looking down into a dark alley, three -floors below. - -After awhile a door opened, and a man beckoned to me. We went through a -little hall with doors on each side and dark passages leading off every -which way, and down these, in and out till I was more confused than -ever, and then finally he knocked at a little door. It was opened, and I -was pushed inside. - -It was a tiny box of a room, low and narrow. On a broad bunk at one -side, two Chinese actors in costumes were lying, smoking opium pipes. -Leastways, I thought they were Chinamen, but as soon as the door was -shut, one jumped up and took me in his arms. I screamed and fought to -get away, but he called me Reba, and I knew it was Daddy. No wonder I -didn’t recognise him before. He had on a wig with a long queue, and a -gold embroidered costume, and his face was painted in a hideous fashion, -with his nose all white and streaks under his eyes. - -After I had kissed half the paint off his face he told me what had -happened. - -Daddy had been in San Francisco long enough to get pretty well -acquainted with Chinatown. He had kept around there from the first, to -escape notice, and he had got to be mighty good friends with one of the -actors who spoke English fairly well. When he was chased by the -detective he had made straight for Moy Kip’s room, and asked to hide -out. The Chinese are used to fooling the police, and Kip just threw a -gown over Daddy’s shoulders, painted his face, and put him on the opium -bunk. When the officer went through the actors’ rooms, he looked in, but -didn’t see any more than I saw at first. Then Moy Kip watched me through -the little window over the stage, and as soon as the detective left the -place they sent for me. - -Daddy and I were taken to a room three stories under the sidewalk, where -we hid for a week, going upstairs at meal-times. It was just like one -big family of about eighty men, but only one or two women. The little -rooms we had were dark and dirty and close, and the smell was something -awful. I couldn’t have stood it alone, but Daddy was safe. That was -enough for a while. - -But living Chinese fashion, without sunlight or decent food, didn’t -agree with Daddy at all, and he fell sick. It wasn’t only the air that -was ailing him, it was the fear of capture, too, and with all the -hardship and worry his fever got steadily worse. A Chinese doctor in big -spectacles and a long white mustache came in to see him, and mixed him -up some black, horrid, smelly stuff, made of sea-horses and lizards, and -Moy Kip burned punks in the joss-house upstairs, but he didn’t get any -better. He was always worrying about something when he was delirious, -and I couldn’t make out quite what it was about till one day, just -before the end, when his mind cleared and he told me. Moy Kip wanted to -marry me! Daddy didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t bear to ask me to -marry a Chinaman, and he didn’t like to refuse the man who had been -right kind to him. - -You can imagine how I felt about it. It would have been bad enough if -Moy Kip had been an ordinary Chinaman, but, being an actor, he belonged -to almost the lowest caste. Undertakers and barbers and boatmen are the -only ones below. Actors can’t even mix equally with ordinary coolies. -Besides, Kip being the principal “white-face” actor or comedian, the -manager didn’t let him leave the theatre much, for fear he’d be -kidnapped by highbinders and held for ransom. If I married him, the life -would be something awful. - -And now, to make it all worse, my poor old Dodo was taken away. He died -in my arms after being sick a week. - -I was alone in the city, without money or friends, except the Chinese -actors. I was almost crazy for sunlight and fresh air, and the sight of -decent people. - -Moy Kip was the only one of the crowd of Chinamen in the building who -could speak English very well, and he had also been my father’s friend. -He was educated after a fashion, and, for a Chinaman, kind and -gentlemanly. - -One day, soon after Daddy was buried, Kip came to my room. I was crying -on the bunk, and he stood there watching me; then he placed a roll of -gold on the table. “I give you two hundled dollar,” he said. “You likee -go away home? No good stay here. Chiny actor heap bad.” - -I sat up in surprise. I wondered where I would ever find another man -who, loving me and having me in his power, would give me the means to -escape. Right away I began to like him. - -“Oh, Moy Kip,” I said, “you have been so good to poor Daddy!” - -He looked at me hard, and said, “You likee Moy Kip? You mally me, -please?” - -So, after a while, I ended by accepting him, and I have never been sorry -since. We were married in the Chinese way. I wore a stiff dress of red -silk my husband bought for me, and my hair was braided tight and -greased, fastened with gold fila-gree and jade ornaments. I had my -cheeks rouged and eyebrows painted, and all. - -But it was not till the carriage took me from my old rooms and the slave -woman had carried me on her back up the stairs and into Moy Kip’s home -(so that I should not stumble on the threshold and bring bad luck), that -I found out how much difference the marriage was going to make to my -husband. For I wasn’t taken to the theatre at all, but to a little set -of rooms in Spofford Alley. When he came in to meet me, dressed like a -prince in his lilac blouse and green trousers, I asked him how it -happened he hadn’t fitted up a room for me in the theatre. - -Seems like he reckoned I had brought him luck, for he had paid the -manager for the right to quit acting, and he was going to try and get -into more respectable business. In China, of course, he would have had -to go on being an actor, and his sons after him, but Chinatown here is -different, and it’s getting to lose some of the old strictness. - -What Moy Kip was going to do, was to smuggle opium. He’d been wanting to -go into it for a long time, but he had nobody to help him at it, nobody -he could trust, that is. With me to take hold, he reckoned he could make -right smart of money. - -We bought a naphtha launch and filled it with nets and truck, like we -were fishing, if anybody wanted to inspect us; and Kip had fixed the -stewards on about every China steamer coming into port. They bought the -stuff in five-tael tins, and packed it in bales with lines and floats, -dropping it overboard as the ship crossed the bar. Then all we had to do -was to cruise around in the launch and pick up the floats and haul in -the bale. It was my part of the business to dispose of the opium after -we had got it into town. I sold it to a German who distributed it -through Chinatown. - -The first year I was perfectly happy with Moy Kip, and no white man -could have treated me better than he did. He named me “Hak Chu”—the -black pearl—and nothing was too good for me. But still we didn’t count -for much in Chinatown, for Moy Kip was still considered an actor, and -below the notice of merchants. It seemed to be as much a question of -money as anywhere else in the world, and until we could save enough up -to buy a share in some store, we were less than nobody, except at the -theatre, where they were always glad to see us both. We often went to -see the plays, until, with my husband’s explanations, I got so I could -follow the acting pretty well. - -It’s right interesting when you begin to understand, for everything in -the theatre means something. Moy Kip explained to me how the carved and -gilded dragon over the doors leading to the dressing-rooms meant a -water-spout, and the sign beside it read, “Go out and change costume.” - -They have lots of different kinds of plays, and some of them take weeks -to go through, running night after night until all the doings of the -hero are finished. - -One night while we were sitting on the stage in the theatre watching a -new Wae, or painted-face comedian, who had come from China to take Moy -Kip’s place, a man came to my husband with a letter. You know, in -Chinese theatres they have a special column where letters for anybody in -the audience can be pinned up, and this one had been seen by some one -who knew Kip was there. When he read it I could see that it had bad -news. He got up right off, and told me we must go home. - -When we were safe in our house, he told me what was the matter. The -letter was from the president of a highbinder tong. They had discovered -that we were making money some way, and now that if Moy Kip didn’t pay -five thousand dollars right off, he would be murdered by their -hatchet-men. Oh, I was scared! I tried to make my husband promise to pay -the hush-money, but he just wouldn’t do it. He said he might as well die -as be robbed of all he had earned at so much risk. He said he wasn’t -afraid, but if he wasn’t, I was. - -From this time on, I had the horrors every time he left me. While we -were together on our trips on the launch, I didn’t care so much, for the -excitement kept up my spirits, but as soon as I was left alone I burned -punks in front of his little joss, just like I was a heathen myself. - -All went on so quiet that I had begun to feel easier, when yesterday the -City of Pekin was reported. It was after dark before we got out to our -wharf and put off, and we passed the steamer at the Quarantine Station. -It was cold and foggy, and we spent hours cruising out at the mouth of -the harbor, in a rough swell, before we picked up the opium and steamed -back to Hunter’s Point. - -As we stopped the engines and shot up to the pier, I was steering in the -bow, and Moy Kip was at the engine. Just then I saw two men rise up from -behind a pile on the dock. I screamed to my husband to reverse the -engine and back off at full speed, and he had just done it when the -highbinders jumped into the boat. The shock nearly rolled her over, and -I fell down on my face. Before I could get up, I saw the hatchet-men -strike at Moy Kip two or three times. I drew my pistol and fired, but -the launch was rolling, so I reckon I missed them. They jumped into the -water and swam off. Then I called out to Moy Kip and ran aft to help -him. - -My husband didn’t answer. I stooped down to him and turned him over—oh, -it was horrible!—and then I must have swooned away, for it’s the last -thing I remember. - -I know the ways of these hired hatchet-men. They’ve been sold out time -after time by their own members, and so now when they go out for a -murder they write down a confession with both names signed on the same -paper. Then they tear it up and divide the pieces, each one having the -other’s name to hold him by, if his partner tries to sell him out. -Wong Yet’s confession is on this paper you found. He’ll die -to-night—murderers can be bought cheap in Chinatown. Now, if I only -had the other half of the paper I’d know who the second man was, and -settle him, too. - -By this time the dilapidated laundry wagon had threaded the Mission, -crossed Market Street, and was rolling along the asphalt of Golden Gate -Avenue on its way to the Chinese Quarter. The quadroon woman’s eyes were -afire with hate, and Vango watched her in apprehension, mingled with a -shrewd desire to work further upon her excitement. - -“You see I was able to be of assistance, even when conditions was -unfavorable,” he ventured. “The spirits is unfallible to instruct when a -party approaches ’em right. If I could give you a regular sittin’ and -get into perfect harmony with the vibrations of my control’s magnetism, -I ain’t no doubt I could lead you to find the balance of that there -paper.” - -The wheel of the wagon caught in the street-car rail and the medium was -jerked almost off his seat. Or, so an observer might have explained the -sudden lurch and the way Vango’s face went white. But his imagination or -mania, kindled again by the craft of his trickery, had conjured up the -vision of his previous dupe, and Mrs. Higgins’s spirit arose before him -in threatening attitude. He cowered and stared, exorcising the phantom, -rubbing his hands in terror. - -But the quadroon woman did not notice. Her mind, too, was full of -horrors, and the desire for vengeance was an obsession. She only -replied, “One thousand dollars if you find that piece of paper before -night!” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - THE HERO’S ADVENTURE: THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM - - -“Ten cents!” Admeh Drake muttered to himself, as he felt the first shock -of the cool breeze on Kearney Street, “what in Jericho can a man do with -a dime, anyway? It won’t even buy a decent bed; it won’t pay the price -of a drink at the Hoffman Bar. Coffee John is full of prunes!” - -He walked up the cheap side of the street, looking aimlessly at the shop -windows. “I figure it out about this way,” he thought, “I ain’t going to -earn a million with two nickels; if I make a raise, it’ll be just by -durn luck. So it don’t matter how I begin, nor what I do at all. I just -got to go it blind, and trust to striking a trail that’ll lead to water. -I’ll take up with the first idea I get, and ride for it as far as it -goes.” - -With this decision, he gave up the unnecessary strain of thought and -floated with the human current, letting it carry him where it would. Now -the main Gulf Stream of San Francisco life sets down Kearney and up -Market Street; this is the Rialto, the promenade of cheap actors, -rounders and men about town. It is the route of the amatory ogler and -the grand tour of the demi-monde. Of a Saturday afternoon the course is -given over to human peacocks and popinjays, fresh from the matinees, -airing “the latest” in garb and finery; but there is a late guard abroad -after the theatres close in the evening, when the relieving prospect of -an idle morrow gives a merry license for late hours and convivial -comradeship. Among these raglans and opera-cloaks, Admeh’s rusty brown -jacket was carried along like an empty bottle floating down stream. - -He turned into Market Street at Lotta’s Fountain, and had drifted a -block northerly, when the brilliant letters of an electric sign across -the way caught his eye: “Biograph Theatre. Admittance, ten cents.” The -hint was patent and alluring; there seemed to be no gainsaying such a -tip from Fate. Over he went with never a thought as to where he would -spend the night without money, and in two minutes Coffee John’s dime -slid under the window of the little ticket office in front. “Hurry up!” -said the man in the box, “the performance is just about to begin.” - -Admeh made his way upstairs, passed through a corridor lined with a -cheap and unnecessary display of dried fishes in a long glass case, and -came to the entrance of a dingy hall, dimly illuminated. At the far end -of the sloping floor was a Lilliputian stage. A scant score of -spectators were huddled together on the front seats and here Admeh took -his place, between two soldiers in khaki uniform and a fat negress. - -As he sat down, the curtain rose and two comedians entered, to go -through a dreary specialty turn of the coarsest “knockabout” -description. Admeh yawned. Even the negress was bored, and the two -infantry corporals sneered openly. Next came a plump lady of uncertain -age who carolled a popular song and did a frisky side-step to the -chorus. - -Admeh was gloomily disappointed. He turned his head to inspect the -audience more closely, hoping for some livelier prompting of his -destiny, when with a trill and a one—two—three accompaniment upon the -wheezy piano at the side of the stage, a little soubrette ran down to -the footlights, and with a mighty fetching seriousness, rolling her eyes -to the ceiling, proclaimed: “Ladies and gentlemen, with your kind -permission, I will now endeavor to entertain you with a few tricks of -sleight-of-hand.” - -She was a wee thing with wistful brown eyes under a curly blond wig, and -seemingly a mere child. Her costume was a painful combination of blue -and violet, home-made beyond a doubt. No one could help looking a guy in -such a dress, but Maxie Morrow, as the placard on the proscenium -announced her, had a childish ingenuousness that forfended criticism. - -As she went through her foolish little performance, audibly coached by -some one in the wings, Admeh’s eyes followed her with eager interest. He -wondered how much older she was than she looked, and what she would be -like off the stage. She had a piquant rather than a pretty face, in form -that feline triangle depicted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. In her movements -she was as graceful and as swiftly accurate as a kitten, and she had all -a kitten’s endearing and alluring charm. - -Admeh made a sudden resolve. If he were to meet with an adventure that -night, what could possibly be more entertaining than to have for his -heroine this little puss of a magician? He made a rapid study of the -situation to discover its possibilities. It took but a few minutes for -his wishes to work out a plan of action, and he was soon at the door -urbanely addressing the ticket-taker. - -“See here,” said Admeh, “I’m a reporter on the _Wave_—you know the -paper, weekly illustrated—and I want an interview with Miss Morrow. I’ll -give her a good write-up if you’ll let me go behind and talk to her.” - -The Biograph Theatre did not often figure in the dramatic columns of the -city papers, and such a free advertisement was not to be refused. The -doorkeeper became on the instant effusively polite and, bustling with -importance, took the young man down a side aisle to a door and up three -stairs through a passage leading behind the wings. Admeh was shown into -a tiny dressing-room whose scrawled plaster walls were half covered with -skirts, waists, and properties of all kinds. The little magician was in -front of her make-up table, dabbing at the rouge pot. The doorkeeper -introduced the visitor, then discreetly withdrew, closing the door after -him. - -At her discovery by this audacious representative of the press, Maxie -was all smiles and blushes. She was still but little more than a girl, -although not quite so young as she had appeared in front of the -footlights, and more naïve and embarrassed than one would have expected -of such a determined little actress. She offered Admeh her own chair, -the only one in the room, but he seated himself upon a trunk and began -the conversation. - -All his tact was necessary to put her at her ease and induce her to -talk. The Hero of Pago Bridge was by no means too ready with his tongue, -usually, in the presence of women, but there was something in the -touching admiration she betrayed for him as a newspaper man that -prevented him from being bashful. He thought the brotherly attitude to -be the proper pose, under the circumstances, and he led her on, talking -of the theatre, the weather, her costume and himself, while she sat -awkwardly conscious of her violet tights, which she slapped nervously -with a little whip. His careless, friendly way at last gave her -confidence, for he asked her few questions and did not seem to expect -clever replies. Before long she had thrown off all reserve and chatted -freely to him. - -The Biograph Theatre kept open, as a rule, as long as it could secure -patronage. This night stragglers kept coming in, so that the four -“artists” and the picture machine in the room below still went through -their weary routine. As the conversation proceeded, Maxie left at times, -went through her act and returned, finding Admeh always ready to put her -upon the thread of her story. - -So, by bits and snatches, by repetitions and parentheses, in an incident -here and a confession there, this is about the way Admeh Drake heard, -that night, in Maxie Morrow’s dressing-room - - - THE STORY OF THE MINOR CELEBRITY - -I can’t really remember when I wasn’t acting, and I have no idea who my -parents were, or where I was born, or when, or anything. I think, -though, I must be about nineteen years old, though I don’t look it, and -I have decided on the first of July for my birthday, because that’s just -the middle of the year and it can’t possibly be more than six months -wrong. I used to go on in child’s parts in London when I couldn’t have -been more than four. - -Then, the next thing I remember, I was with a company of Swiss -bell-ringers, and we travelled all through the English provinces. I used -to sing and dance in between their turns, and I tell you it was hard -work, practising all day and dancing all night, almost. We were all -fearfully poor, for we weren’t very much of an attraction. I had only -one frock beside my stage costume, and that one was so patched I was -ashamed to go to the pork shop, even, with it on. I was a regular little -slave to old Max, who ran the company, and had to help cook and wash the -dishes in the lodgings we took in the little towns. Bah! I hate the -smell of brown Windsor soap to this day. I was just a little wild -animal, for I never went to school a day in my life, and I was never -allowed to go out on errands alone, unless they kept account of the -exact time it would take to go and come, and they held me to account for -every minute. I hardly think I ever talked to a child till I was grown -up. - -Well, the business fell off in England, so we took passage in a sailing -ship for California, around the Horn. That voyage was the happiest time -of my life, for I had nothing to do but practise my steps one or two -hours a day, when the sea was calm enough. There was a very nice old -lady aboard who taught me how to sew, and gave me some flannel to make -myself some underwear, for I had never worn anything but what showed -before, and I didn’t even know that anyone else ever did. She taught me -to read, too, and tried to help me with arithmetic, but mercy! I never -could get figures into my head. - -Well, we got to San Francisco finally—that was about ten years ago. -Bell-ringing didn’t seem to take very well; it was out of date, or other -people did it better, because you know specialty people have to keep -improving their act, and play on their heads, or while they’re tumbling -through the air, or some novelty, nowadays, or it doesn’t go and it’s -hard to get booked. But my act drew well, and it always saved our turn. -I made up new steps all the time and invented pretty costumes, and so, -of course, old Max watched me like grim death to see that I didn’t get -away from him. We travelled all over the West, and all the time I was a -drudge, did most of the work and got none of the money. They used to -lock me into the house when they went out, and old Max’s wife would give -me so much work to do that she’d know whether I’d been idle a moment. -You wouldn’t think a girl in a fix like that had much chance to get -married, would you? - -Well, I am married, or rather I was. I don’t know just how I stand now. -Let me tell you about it. - -There was a man used to hang about the Star Variety Theatre in Los -Angeles, who did small parts sometimes, when they wanted a policeman in -a sketch, or things like that, but he mostly helped with the -scene-shifters. I never had more than a few words with him, but he kind -of took a fancy to me, and he used to bring me candy and leave it behind -the flats where the others wouldn’t see it. I don’t believe, now, he -ever cared so very much for me, but I was silly and had never had any -attention, and I thought he was in love with me, and I imagined I was -with him. He tried to make up to Max, but the old man wouldn’t have -anything to do with him. - -One day, when all my people were out and had locked me in the house, -with a lot of dishes to wash, Harry—his name was Harry Maidslow—came -down the street and saw me at the kitchen window. I raised the sash when -he came into the yard, and without waiting for much talk first, for we -were both afraid the old man would be coming back and would catch us, -Harry asked me if I didn’t want to leave the show, and if I wouldn’t run -away with him. - -I believe I told him I’d run away with an orangoutang if I got the -chance. Remember, I was only seventeen, and I had never been alone with -a man in my life before. In my life—if you call such slavery as that, -living! So he told me not to appear to notice him, but to be all ready -for him and to watch out, and when I heard a certain whistle he taught -me, wherever I was, to jump and run for him, and he’d do the rest. - -You can imagine if I wasn’t excited for the next few days! I would have -jumped off the roof to get to him, if necessary, and I just waited from -hour to hour, expecting to hear his call every minute. I didn’t hardly -dare to go to sleep at night for fear I’d miss him, and I was listening -everywhere I went, meals and all. I think I trembled for three days. It -seemed impossible that he’d be able to get me away; it was too good to -come true. But I had nothing else in the world to look forward to, and I -hoped and prayed for that whistle with all my might. - -One night at the theatre, after my company had done the first part of -their bell-ringing, I went on for my song. I remember it was that purple -silk frock I wore, the one with the gold fringe, and red stockings with -bows at the knees. Well, the orchestra had just struck up my air— - - “Ain’t I the cheese? Ain’t I the cheese? - Dancing the serpentine under the trees!” - -and I was just ready to catch the first note when I heard that whistle -so loud and clear I couldn’t mistake it. Heavens! I can almost hear it -now. I was half frightened to death, but I just shut my eyes and jumped -clean over the footlights and landed in the flageolet’s lap and then -pelted right up the middle aisle. Harry had a lot of his friends ready -by the main entrance, and they rushed down to meet me and while half of -them held the ushers and the crowd back, for everyone was getting up to -see what was the matter, like a panic, the rest of the boys took me by -the elbows and ran me out the front door. The house was simply packed -that night, and when they all saw me jump they set up a yell like the -place was afire. But I didn’t hear it at all till I got out in the -corridor with my skirt half torn off and my dancing clogs gone—and then -the noise sounded like a lion roaring in a menagerie. - -Harry was all ready waiting for me, and he took me right up in his arms, -as if I was a doll, ran down the stairs, put me in a carriage waiting at -the door, and we drove off, lickety-split. - -I’ve often thought since then that I took a big risk in trusting a man I -didn’t really know at all, but Harry was square, and took me right down -to a justice of the peace. We were married just as I stood, with no -slippers and the holes in the heels of my stockings showing. What old -Max did, I don’t know, but he must have been a picture for the audience -when he saw me fly away like a bird out of a cage. By the time he found -out what had happened it was too late to do anything about it, for I was -Mrs. Maidslow. - -Well, I lived with Harry for a few months, and then he began to drink -and wanted me to go on the stage again to support him. The first time he -struck me I ran away and came up to San Francisco, and went into -specialty work for myself. Harry was kind enough when he was sober; in -fact, he was too good-natured to refuse even a drink; that was just what -was the matter. He had no backbone, and although he had a sort of -romantic way with him that women like he didn’t have the nerve to stay -with anything very long. - -Now the funny part of the whole thing is this. You’d think that old Max -would have been furious, and so he was at first, but afterward he had a -terrible falling out with the others in his company—his wife had -died—and I guess he wanted to spite them more than he did me. At any -rate, just before he died, a year ago, he inherited some money from an -uncle in Germany, and what did he do but leave a kind of a legacy to -Harry. That is, the old man had a funny idea that wills didn’t hold very -well in this country, and he had a great respect for the honor of the -army officers. So he left $15,000 in cash with a Colonel Knowlton in -trust for Harry Maidslow when he could be found. Harry had a way of -changing his name when he felt like it, and old Max didn’t know him very -well, anyway, so the only way he could be sure of Colonel Knowlton -identifying him was by—well, by a certain mark he had on his body that -Max happened to know about. The colonel has been invalided home from the -Philippines, and every time he sees me he asks me if I’ve found Harry. - -So, that’s all. I don’t really know whether I’m a wife or a widow, but I -do know that I ought to have a share of that money coming to me, and -perhaps if you put the story into the paper, some of his friends will -see it and give me news of him. - - * * * * * - -Admeh Drake put his pencil into his pocket feeling a sense of shame at -his duplicity with this little waif. He would have been glad to help -her, but it seemed useless to disappoint her credulity by confessing -that his relations with the press were entirely fictitious. “Well, I -hope you get the money,” he said, “and if there’s anything I can do to -help you, I will. But don’t you want me to see you home, Maxie?” - -“Sure!” said the girl, frankly, and after pulling on a rather soiled -automobile coat and adjusting a top-heavy plumed black hat, she -descended the stairs of the theatre with Admeh and they found themselves -on Market Street. - -“It’s a little late to get anything to eat,” Admeh suggested, -tentatively, trusting to his luck. He was not disappointed. - -“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied the girl. “I always have supper after I get -home, anyway.” - -Half the worry was off his mind, but without a cent in his pocket, the -question of transportation troubled him. If worst came to worst, Admeh -decided that he would take Maxie home in a carriage, see her safely -indoors, and then return and have it out with the driver. But first he -ventured another insinuation. “It’s a beautiful night!” he remarked. At -that moment the fog enveloped the upper half of the Spreckels Building, -and the tall and narrow column was visible only as an irregular pattern -of soft, blurred yellow lights. - -“Fine!” said Maxie. “Let’s walk.” - -She took his arm blithely, happy at her release from work, and they -crossed over, went up Grant Avenue to Post Street and there turned -toward Union Square. A short distance ahead of them a tall man in a gray -mackintosh was walking with somewhat painful carefulness up the street. -His deviations seemed to testify to a rather jovial evening’s -indulgence. The two rapidly approached him, and Admeh had scarcely time -to notice his yellow beard and hair when the stranger turned into a -doorway. The house he entered was gaudily painted in red and yellow with -stars and crescents, and so fiercely lighted with electric lamps that no -wayfarer, however dazed, could fail to notice the sign: “Hammam -Baths—Gentlemen’s Entrance.” When Admeh turned to Maxie she was as pale -as if she had seen a ghost. She looked up at him with a glitter in her -eyes. - -“Here!” she exclaimed, opening her purse and thrusting a dollar into his -hand. “Go in there and see if that man who just went in has the word -’Dotty’ tattooed on his right arm! Find out who he is, and come to the -theatre and tell me.” - -With that she pushed him into the doorway and was gone. - - - THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM - -With the enthusiasm of an amateur detective, Admeh Drake paid his dollar -for admission, and passed through two anterooms into an artificially -tropical atmosphere. Turkish baths were a luxury outside the scheme of -things; he knew nothing of the arrangements. He paused, uncertain how to -proceed; uncertain, too, as to the best plan for catching the -yellow-bearded man stripped. While he hesitated, an attendant showed him -into a dressing-room. He saw naked men passing with towels twisted about -their loins. - -For the first time in many days, he took off his wrinkled, creased -clothes. Pausing on the balcony without the door, he surveyed the -carpeted, gaudily decorated apartment below. It was midnight, the -busiest hour of the twenty-four in the baths. Heavier than the -atmosphere of steam and steamed humanity rose the fumes of liquor. Few -there are sober in a Hammam at that elbow of the night. Not knowing that -the sweating heat takes the edge and fervor from the wildest -intoxication, Admeh wondered, as he watched, at the subdued murmur of -their babblings. His eye ranged over a group sitting up in towel robes, -chatting drowsily, over a drunken satyr thrusting his heavy limbs from -under the covers and singing a sleepy tune, over two others sunk in -stupor. Beyond them was a group of jockeys, who had come to reduce -weight; all were young, small, keen-eyed, each was puffing a huge cigar. -In that bower of transformation, where all men stood equal as at the -judgment, their worldly goods shrunk to a single bath towel, he found it -hard to pick his man, yet no one could he see with the clay-yellow hair -and beard that marked the mysterious person for whom he was searching. - -Following others who slipped down the stairs in the single, levelling -garment, Admeh went across the main salon, through a double glass door, -and into an ante-chamber considerably hotter, where men were lolling -back, wet and shiny, in canvas chairs. He saw the rubbers working in the -room beyond, saw that the men under their hands were black and brown of -hair and beard. - -To the right, another glass door caught his eye. He passed in and gasped -at the heavy, overpowering temperature. His glasses, to which he had -clung with the instinct of a near-sighted man, burned on his nose. Men, -glistening and dripping, sat all along the wall, their feet in little -tubs of water. - -In the corner sat the mysterious stranger of the yellow hair and beard. -He was singing sentimentally. Admeh, practised in the lore of -intoxication, watched him. “The jag’s growing,” he said to himself. In -fact, the fumes of liquor, heat driven, were mounting steadily. Crossing -the room, so as to command the stranger’s right side, he saw round his -upper arm a black rubber bandage, like those used to confine varicose -veins. The problem resolved itself into a question of tearing off that -bandage. - -“Hotter’n the hazes of the Philippines!” babbled the man with the yellow -beard. Piecing together the description of her husband given by Maxie in -the story of her adventures, Admeh was more than ever persuaded that -this was the object of his search, that under the elastic bandage was -the mark of identification by which he was to know the legatee of the -fortune left by the old bell-ringer. - -The man of the yellow beard sang maudlin Orpheum songs and prattled of -many things. He cursed San Francisco. He told of his amours. He offered -to fight or wrestle with anyone in the room. “A chance,” thought Admeh, -as he took the challenge. But in a moment more, the drunken man was -running again on a love-tack, with the winds of imagination blowing -free. Nevertheless, this challenge gave Admeh an idea. What he could not -encompass by diplomacy he might seize by force. In that method, all must -depend upon the issue of a moment. If he could tear away the bandage in -the first dash he would win. But let the struggle last more than a -moment and others would intervene; then he would be thrown out and the -chance would be gone. Mentally he measured bodies against the stranger; -man for man he saw that, both being sober, he himself was badly -over-matched. Broader and taller by many inches, the stranger was of -thick, knotty limbs, and deep chest; Admeh himself was all cowboy nerve -and wire, but slight and out of condition. It was bull against coyote. - -“The question is,” thought Admeh, “can I and his jag lick him and his -muscle?” - -The stranger, singing again, lurched along the hot tiling to another -room. Admeh gasped like a hooked trout as he followed through the door. -It was the extra-hot room, where the mercury registered one hundred and -sixty degrees. The stranger’s bristles began to subside and his lips -crept together. The amateur detective drew nearer and, languid as he was -with the terrific heat, gathered his force for the attempt. At that -moment an attendant with trays of ice water slouched in on his felt -shoes. Admeh slipped back into his chair. - -This entrance had a most surprising effect on him of the yellow beard. -Some emotion, which Admeh took to be either fear or anxiety, struggled -to break through the veil of his debauch; he stared with bleary but -intent eyes. In a moment he was lurching for the door. Glad of the -relief from that overwhelming heat, Admeh followed. The trail led -through the anteroom, past the rubbers and their benches, through -another double glass door. A rush of steam fogged his spectacles; when -it cleared a little, he saw dimly, through the hot vapor, that he was in -a long, narrow closet, banked on one side by benches and by pipes which -were vomiting clouds of steam. Groping from one side to the other, he -found that they were quite alone. - -With no further hesitation, Admeh rushed on his man and grasped for the -right arm. - -By the fraction of an inch he missed his hold. The stranger, with a -quickness amazing for one in his condition—and what was more surprising, -without a word—lashed out and caught Admeh a blow under the chest which -whirled him back on the hot benches and fairly jerked his spectacles -from his nose. The issue was on, and it was first honors for the -stranger. Unsteady on his legs, but still determined, Admeh closed -again, ducked under a ponderous blow and grappled round the waist. He -managed to get one hand on the bandage, but in no wise could he tear it -away, for the stranger held him in a bear-grip, tight about the neck. So -they struggled and grunted and swayed through the misty clouds from the -hot benches to the slippery floor and back to the benches again. Their -bodies, what with the exertion and the steam, ran rivulets; their -throats were gasping. Once, twice, they staggered the room’s length. -Admeh was beginning to feel his breath and his senses going together, -when the grasp about his neck slackened in tension. - -“I and the jag win,” he thought, with what sense was left in him. He -gathered his strength into its last cartridge, and gave a heave and a -fling; they went down to the floor with a wet slap, Admeh above. He felt -his opponent collapse under him. For a moment he, too, saw the universe -swing round him, but with a great effort he tore away the bandage and -pressed his near-sighted eyes close to the right arm. - -There, in faded colours, was a tattooed design on the white skin. Admeh -made out the word “Dotty,” framed in a border of twisted snakes. His -quest was done. Faint, weary, languid, he prepared to get away before -his assault was discovered. The door opened; some one caught Admeh by -the arm. With no more fight in him, he raised himself to one knee and -recognised the attendant, the sight of whom had before so nearly sobered -his drunken opponent. - -“What the devil——” said the new-comer, and stopped as his eye caught -that mark on the arm. Then he bent down, passed his finger over the -design, studied it, and peered into the white, senseless face behind the -yellow beard. - -“My work—it is the very man!” he exclaimed, in tones of the greatest -interest. Turning to Admeh he asked: - -“Now why did _you_ want to know about that mark, and what were you -scrapping for?” - -“What do you know about him?” retorted Admeh. - -“Story for story,” said the attendant. - -“Story for story, swapped sight unseen,” agreed Admeh. “But let’s get -him out of here first, because he’s in a pretty bad fix between his -fight and his jag.” Together they carried him to a dressing-room, laid -him on a bench, and closed the curtain. Here Admeh’s last spark of -strength left him; he collapsed in a heap on the floor. With practised -hands the attendant set about reviving them both. In ten minutes the man -of mystery slept heavily, stupidly, on the bench, and Admeh was sitting -against the wall breathing cool relief from the outer air. Briefly, he -told of his singular errand, omitting, from some hazy idea of policy, -the item about the legacy. - -“Well,” said the rubber, after Admeh Drake had finished his tale, “your -yarn certainly is curious, but I can beat it. What d’you think of -this?—I tattooed that name and mark on this fellow’s arm, and I know the -history of it, but he has no idea to this day how it ever come there, -nor who ’Dotty’ is, nor why I did it, nor anything at all about it. He -was the hero of as queer a yarn as I ever heard, and he knew no more -about it all the time than a babe unborn!” - -He rang an electric bell; a boy answered. - -“Tell the boss to send for the extra man,” he said. “I’m done up for -to-night, and I’m going to lay off for a while.” - -So saying, he took Drake into an adjoining room, shared by the employees -of the baths, and, after making himself comfortable on a lounge with a -blanket wrapper, he told the following joyous romance: - - - THE STORY OF THE DERMOGRAPH ARTIST - -You see, this ain’t my regular job. I’m working here because my -profession is played out in San Francisco. I’m a dermograph artist. -What’s that? Oh, it’s what most people call a tattooer. But don’t you -think we’ve got as much right to be called artists as the fellows that -slap paint on cloth with a brush? I think so. Is anything nicer than the -human skin? Don’t you fix up your walls and your ceilings, and your -floors that you wipe your feet on? Then what’s the matter with -decorating yourself? That’s the line of talk I always gave people when -they asked me why I called myself a dermograph artist. - -It was the electric needle and the Jap tattooer that ran me out of -business. With the electric needle, a man could put on a design in about -a quarter of the time that it takes to do a real artistic job by hand. -The blamed little Jap would pretty near pay to get a customer, he worked -that cheap. I quit, and I never get out my needles now except for a -design on some one in the baths. - -My parlours were on the water-front, because most of my customers were -sailors. Of course, once in a while some swells from Nob Hill would come -in for a design or two. I used to do my best work for them, because, I -thought, you never can tell when these society people will get next to -the fact that a picture on the skin has it a mile on a painting. Why, -the other day I read in the papers that a Frenchman got a hundred -thousand dollars for a little, dinky canvas painting. The highest pay I -ever knew a dermograph artist to get was five hundred for doing the -Wells Brothers’ tattooed woman. Do you call that square? - -After the Jap and the electric needle chump came to town, business fell -off, as I was telling you. They’d have made me close up my shop and get -out if it hadn’t been for Spotty Crigg. Ever hear of him? Well, you sure -haven’t been in San Francisco long. In those days he kept a sailor -boarding-house and saloon round the corner from my parlours, and he was -sort of boss of the water-front—good any time to deliver five hundred -votes. I ain’t saying that Spotty was a Sunday-school kind of man, but -he stuck to his friends. I was one of the gang, so he sent me enough -jobs to keep me going. Besides, I helped him once or twice on a -shanghaing deal. You see, like most sailor boarding-house keepers in -those days, he was a crimp—used to deliver a sailor or two when foremast -hands were scarce and the pay was good. Spotty Crigg is dead now, or I -wouldn’t be telling you about his last and biggest shanghaing scrape. I -didn’t understand it at the time, but I learned about it afterward, part -from Crigg and part from people on the other side of the little deal. - -One of my society customers was young Tom Letterblair. Maybe you don’t -know about him, either. He belonged to about the richest tribe of swells -on Nob Hill. That fellow was as wild as a fish-hawk, a thoroughbred dead -game sport. His being wild didn’t bother his people so much as the way -he went about it—always doing something crazy. His people were strong on -getting into the society columns of the papers, but he was eternally -getting the family name on the news pages of the yellow journals, if not -in the police reports. He wasn’t really what you would call bad, either; -only wild and careless and brought up wrong, and stubborn about it when -anyone tried to call him down. He’d never seem sorry if he got the -family into trouble, but just laugh at his sisters when they roasted -him. And instead of treating him quiet and easy, and gentling him into -being good, they’d jaw him. That’s a bad scheme with a gilded youth like -Tom Letterblair. - -They were a bunch of orphans. That was half the trouble. - -Finally, Tom Letterblair took up with a chorus girl and refused to drop -her. The family tried to buy her off. Now she wasn’t a nice sort of -girl, but she was true to Tom. She told him about it. For once, although -he was such a careless fellow, he got mad and what does he do but come -to me to have her name, “Dotty,” tattooed on his arm with the double -snake border. Says he to me confidentially, “That’s the girl I’m going -to marry when I come of age, which is only two months, and don’t you -forget it.” Seems that he told other people the same thing, so that it -came back to his family. - -Now his sisters and the Eastern society swells that they were married to -didn’t hanker any to have Dotty for a sister-in-law. But they knew by -experience that if Tom Letterblair said he’d do it, all blazes wouldn’t -hold him. J. Thrasher Sunderland, one of Tom’s brothers-in-law, had what -he thought was a bright idea. It was to get the kid shanghaied on a -sailing vessel off for a six months’ voyage. - -That wasn’t such a bad scheme either. They could keep him away from -Dotty and drink for six months, have him work hard, and make a man out -of him. It’s been done before right in this port. That wild streak is a -kind of disease that strikes young fellows with too much blood in their -necks and money in their pockets. I know. I’ve had it myself, bar the -money. By six months, what doctors call the crisis would have been over. -The risky thing was the chance of raising a howl when he got back, but -they were willing to take chances that the sense knocked into him with a -belaying pin would make him see it their way. They were going to give it -out to the papers and their friends that he was off for his health. - -J. Thrasher Sunderland made his first break when he went to Captain -Wynch of the bark _Treasure Trove_, instead of going straight to a -crimp, as he ought to have done. Wynch promised to treat the kid well -and try to brace him up. Never having seen Tom Letterblair he got a -description of him, including the tattoo mark. Then the skipper went to -Spotty Crigg and promised him a hundred dollars for doing the rough work -of getting Tom on board the vessel. - -Letterblair was such a big, careless fellow, he never suspected -anything, and a lure note fetched him to Crigg’s saloon the night before -the bark cleared. Tom had been drinking hard that day—showed up badly -slewed. ’Twas a jolly drunk, and he was ready for a glass with anyone. - -Now, Crigg hadn’t given much thought to this little transaction, for he -was doing that sort of work almost every day in the week. But when that -young swell, all dressed up to the nines, came into the “Bowsprit” -saloon, the looks of him put a brand-new idea into Spotty’s noddle. It -struck him that a hundred dollars was pretty small pay for catching a -fish of that size and colour; there was evidently a big deal on -somewhere. Like everyone else that read the papers, he knew considerable -about Tom Letterblair, knew him for a young sport, free as water with -his money. Putting two and two together, he saw that if he could save -the kid instead of stealing him, there might be a good many times a -hundred in the affair. Besides, there was a chance of finding out who -was trying to get the shanghaing done, and then collecting blackmail. So -he decided to play both ends. He would steal the wrong man, and hold on -to the right one. - -He ran his eye around the place and saw Harry Maidslow, a scene-shifter -in the old Baldwin Theatre, who used to drop in, now and then, on his -nights off. Man for man, Maidslow and Letterblair were modelled on the -same lines—Maidslow wore a moustache, but that would come off easy -enough—yellow hair, blue eyes, big and strong build. Maidslow hadn’t a -relative this side of the Rockies; no one would miss him. Crigg knew -that. - -Spotty Crigg went so far in his mind before he thought of the tattoo -mark. Captain Wynch had mentioned it as the proof that there was no -mistake. And then, Crigg thought of me. I suppose lots of people would -have stopped there, but Spotty Crigg had nerve, I’ll say that for -him—nerve of a thousand. - -He worked Letterblair to drink himself to sleep, and then had him packed -upstairs and put to bed, dead to the world. The next move was easy. -Crigg took Harry Maidslow into his office, fed him knockout drops, and -carried him up into the same room with Letterblair. Side by side he laid -them both, and stripped them to undershirts. - -That was the way I found them when a hurry call brought me to the -boarding-house. I thought at first they were both dead. It gave me the -horrors to hear Crigg tell me that I was to copy that tattoo mark. ’Twas -like working on a dead man. One drunk, the other drugged, lying on a -little, cheap old bed and Spotty, who wasn’t a nice, clean-looking sort -of person anyway, leaning over them with a candle. - -When he told what he wanted, I kicked until he put on the screws. He -could drive me off the water-front if he cared. I knew that, and he -reminded me of it, besides offering me fifty dollars. So at last I went -at it, he telling me all the time to hurry. I never worked so fast in my -life. By two hours you couldn’t tell one mark from the other, except -that Maidslow’s was new and Letterblair’s old. Next we shaved Maidslow’s -mustache off, for Tom always wore a smooth face. Then we changed their -clothes, putting the swell rig on Maidslow and the old clothes on -Letterblair. - -Next, Spotty Crigg took Maidslow, got him into a hack, drove him to a -dory he had waiting, and rowed out to the _Treasure Trove_, which was in -the stream waiting to sail next morning. Captain Wynch was cussing -purple because Spotty had been so long. He went over the description, -though, and looked at the right arm to make sure, just as Crigg expected -him to do. It looked all right, because a tattoo mark don’t begin to -swell until the day after; besides, Wynch was seeing it under a -fo’castle lamp. - -It was all right so far. But Crigg, who wasn’t so keen by a jugful as he -thought he was, hadn’t figured on one thing. The Letterblairs had an -aunt, Mrs. Burden, a widow without chick or child of her own. She was an -old, religious lady, with oodles of money and a whopping temper—a -regular holy terror. She didn’t cotton to the sisters at all; in fact, -hated them, but she was soft over Tom Letterblair. Whenever she wasn’t -turning loose her money, stringing hospitals and churches all the way to -Sacramento, she was handing it over to the kid, who had only an -allowance until he got to be twenty-one. He and the parsons were the -only ones who got her to loosen up. She had no son and I rather guess -that on the quiet she had a sneaking liking for the way he was carrying -on. Sort of thrilled her. You know how some of those pious old girls -like a man that’s real bad. She coddled him to death and fought the -sisters for being hard on the boy. - -Spotty’s luck turned so that she picked the very next morning for a -show-down with the sisters over the way they were treating the kid. -There must have been a regular hair-pulling. Anyway, before they got -through, Mrs. Sunderland was so mad that she poured out the whole scheme -in one mouthful. She said: - -“You won’t have a chance to coddle _him_ any more! He’s on the _Treasure -Trove_, bound for China to get the foolishness taken out of him. He’s -passed the Farralones by this time.” - -The old lady was foxy. She would have made a pretty good sport herself. -She shut up like a clam, went home, rushed for the telephone and called -up the wharfinger. She found that the _Treasure Trove_ was in the stream -being towed for the heads, and belonged to Burke & Coleman, this port. -She knew Burke. She got her carriage, made his office in two jumps, and -wouldn’t leave until she had an order on Captain Wynch to deliver a -sailor answering Letterblair’s description, tattooing and all. In a -half-hour more she had a tug started, chasing the _Treasure Trove_ with -that order. She offered the crew two hundred dollars over regular pay if -they got their man back safe and sound. She herself was afraid of the -water, and stayed in the tug office to wait. - -While this was going on, Tom Letterblair woke up. The man watching him -tried to get him drunk again, and the jag turned out loud and nasty. -Crigg saw he’d have to be doing something right off the bat. - -He knew a little how the land lay between Tom and his people, but not -enough. He was sure that some one of Tom’s relatives had done it. As far -as that he was right. He struck the wrong lead when he picked Mrs. -Burden as the one—she being a church member—that was most likely to be -ashamed of the kid. He looked up her number in the directory, and made -for the house hot-foot. She wasn’t in, so he held up a lamp-post, -waiting. - -The tug got back. They packed Harry Maidslow into the dock-house. He was -still sound asleep from the knockout drops. - -“My precious boy!” said the old lady, and fell on his neck. Then she -screamed so you could hear her all over the water-front and began to -jump on the captain. She said: - -“You’re a pack of thieves! You’ve murdered my Tom and dressed another -man in his clothes. Where is my boy? Give me back my boy!” she said, and -a lot of other things. - -Said the tug-boat captain: “You’re trying to get out of paying the two -hundred. He’s on specifications, and a nice time we had making them pass -him over. Look here.” He got the coat off Harry Maidslow. There was the -tattoo mark, just beginning to swell up. - -“It’s a new mark. You and those hussies have fooled me,” said the old -lady. “I’ll have you all in jail for this,” she said. “I wish I could -find him, I’d show them up. I’d take him right up to the big dance -they’re going to have to-night. I’d shame them!” she said. And she drove -home, laughing and crying out loud. At the doorstep Spotty Crigg braced -her. - -He began quiet and easy, working up her curiosity so that she would let -him know how the land lay. That’s just where he went wrong again. In -about a minute she put two and two together and saw pretty clearly -through the whole scheme. She was just one point smarter than Spotty, -and she wormed it out of him finally. He thought she wanted Tom put out -of the way, sure. She played her hand by letting him think so. It was -move and your turn, like a game of checkers, with the old lady one jump -ahead. Said Spotty: - -“Two thousand dollars, or I bring him back and give the story to the -_Observer_.” - -Which of course was exactly what she wanted. She pretended to be scared -but mad. - -“Not a cent. Do your worst,” she said. - -“Then I’ll go that one better,” said Spotty. “I see by the papers -there’s a dance at the Sunderland house to-night. Three thousand down or -I dump him in the front door, drunk as a lord and dressed like a -stevedore. I’ve got him where you can’t find him——” which was a bluff. -“If you tell the police he’ll get worse than a drunk——” which was -another. - -“Not a red cent,” she said. - -“Settles it!” said Crigg. He went away red-hot, mad enough to back up -his bluff, just as the old lady thought he would. - -When he got home he found that Tom couldn’t be kept much longer. There -had been a deuce of a rough house. That clinched the matter with Spotty -Crigg. About half-past eight he woke Tom, gave him some dinner with a -cold bottle to get him started again, and spun him a yarn about finding -him drunk and robbed. The deal went through on schedule. At half-past -nine, Spotty drove up to the Letterblair house with the kid, rang the -door-bell and pushed Tom right into the hall, nursing a loud, talkative -drunk. They say it put that function on the bum. I heard afterward from -Tom Letterblair that it was about the only time he ever really enjoyed -himself at one of his sister’s parties. - -Nobody ever told the police or the papers. Every man-jack in the deal -was afraid to peach on the others, because he couldn’t afford to tell on -himself. All except the old lady and Tom, of course, and they were too -tickled with the way the things turned out to care about giving it away. -Another funny thing: everybody quit a winner. You can see how Captain -Wynch won. Tom paid Spotty Crigg a thousand for keeping him off the -_Treasure Trove_, and I got fifty dollars for my job. And even the snob -sisters won out. How? Well, sir, Tom Letterblair braced up from that -time on. I suppose he took it that if he was far enough gone to the -devil for his family to have to shanghai him, he must be a pretty bad -egg. So he swore off, got on the water-wagon, and turned out pretty -well, alongside of what they’d expected of him. His chorus girl, Dotty, -ran away with another man, and that helped him some, too. - -Finally, Tom got a case on a swell New York heiress, a dizzy blonde, who -was just simply It in the Four Hundred. He married her, to the great and -grand delight of Mr. and Mrs. J. Thrasher Sunderland. - -And right there was where Tom had too much luck for any one man. I’ll be -darned if that girl’s name wasn’t Dotty, and she always believed Tom had -it pricked on his arm just on her account! What d’you think of that? - -But perhaps you’re wondering how Maidslow got square. I’ll tell you. - -He came to in the tug office, where the crew had passed him a few swift -kicks and left him. Pretty stupid and dopy yet, he crawled home to his -own room and slept some more of it off. - -Then, when his head did finally clear out, he began to look himself -over; to discover and explore, as you might say. When he looked in the -glass he must have nearly fell dead. His yellow moustache was gone. -Then, he’d gone to sleep in old clothes and he woke up in a swell -high-class rig, silk-lined, and without a spot, patch, or sign of wear. -He had on silk gauze underwear, patent leather shoes, diamonds in his -shirt-front, cuff-links, and a pair of pretty hot socks. Feeling in his -pockets, as a man will, he found a gold watch and chain, a gold -cigarette case, a corkscrew mounted in rubies and three hundred and -forty-two dollars in bills and coin. Every one in the deal had been too -busy to touch him while he was drugged. - -Long before he got his senses his arm began to feel funny. After he’d -investigated the costume, he took off the Willy-boy coat and stripped up -his shirt sleeve. There was a tattoo mark, smarting like sin, with the -name “DOTTY” in beautiful capital letters! Well, when he saw that he -went right up into the air. He was just like that old woman in the -nursery rhyme—“Lawk-a-massy on us, this is none of I!” - -The tattoo mark was his only clue. I was the only one he knew in the -business, so he came down to me and wanted to know how, and when, and -where, and why, and what-the-devil. - -“Look here, my son,” says I, “what are you kicking about, anyway? You go -to sleep with eight dollars on your back and two bits in your jeans. You -wake up with about a seven hundred and fifty dollar rig on, and a wad in -your pocket, more than you ever had in your life. The thing for you to -do,” I says, “is to lose yourself before you’re called for, and to stay -lost, good and hard! Next time you fade away on the water-front, you may -wake up in a jumper and overalls, shovelling garbage! You can’t expect -to draw a straight flush in diamonds every deal: next shuffle you may -catch deuces. You take my advice and drop a part of that roll of yours -for a ticket in the ’Owl’ train to-night, before you’re enchanted back -again.” - -“All right,” he says, “I’ll do it. But for heaven’s sake, tell me just -one thing, and I’ll ask no more questions. _Who in blazes is Dotty?_” - -“Aw,” I says, “she’s the fairy godmother of this pipe dream. She’s -changed into a sea-gull by this time!” - - * * * * * - -“Well,” concluded the rubber, “he skipped, and I have never seen him -since, from that day till to-night, when I found you scrapping with him, -for this man is Harry Maidslow for sure. If you want to talk to him now, -he’ll probably be all right. He’s had time to have a plunge, and you’ll -find him sleeping upstairs. I’ve got to go home, so good-by. Come round -again some time and tell me about him!” - -Admeh Drake, after a swim in the tank himself, passed through the main -salon and upstairs, acting upon the hint of the Dermograph Artist. The -place was lined with cots, now filled with snoring occupants, and it was -not until he had explored a second story that Admeh found him of the -clay-yellow beard. He was alone in a secluded ward, sleeping peacefully. -Admeh touched him, and Maidslow sat up suddenly with a terrified stare. - -“What d’you want? What d’you want of me?” he cried. - -Admeh was astonished at his fright, but hastened to relieve the man’s -suspense. “Oh, nothing bad, I hope. Is your name—” here he hesitated, -and the man’s face showed abject fear—“Maidslow?”—and the mouth relaxed -its tensity. - -“Yes,” said the man. “What d’you want?” - -“I want to tell you that there’s fifteen thousand dollars coming to -you!” said Drake. - -The man stared now in bewilderment. - -“Ever know old Max Miller, Swiss bell-ringer?” “A little,” said -Maidslow. “Why?” - -“He’s your rich uncle. He’s left you his fortune. You caught him when -you stole Maxie from him!” - -“See here,” said Maidslow, “what kind of a jolly are you giving me -anyway? I haven’t seen Maxie—I suppose you mean my wife—for two years. -If you know anything about her, tell me the whole thing, and tell it -slow.” - -For the second time that night Admeh Drake narrated his adventures, -beginning at Coffee John’s, and ending with the news of Maxie and the -legacy left to Harry Maidslow. But, when he mentioned Colonel Knowlton’s -name as the trustee, Maidslow, who had listened so far in delight, gave -an exclamation of despair. - -“Oh, heavens!” he cried, “I can never get that money! Why couldn’t it -have been given in charge of some one else? Colonel Knowlton, of all men -in the world!” - -“Why can’t you get it from him?” Drake asked. - -“You listen to my story, and you’ll know,” replied Maidslow. - - - THE STORY OF THE DESERTER OF THE PHILIPPINES - -I don’t exactly know why I married Maxie Morrow, except that I’ve always -been a fool about women. The thing came so sudden, I just jumped and -caught her on the fly. When she left me, I went pretty much to the bad. -Then Harry Maidslow disappeared, because of debts and one thing or -another, and I turned up as Harry Roberts in St. Louis. That was just -about when the Spanish war broke out. It was too good a chance to lose, -and I decided to begin all over again. So I enlisted in the regulars, -joining the One Hundred and Fourteenth Infantry. I was hardly more than -through the goose step when we were sent to the Philippines. - -I was no slouch nor shirk, either, but I knew more about eating than -anything else, and I naturally gravitated to the cook’s tent and put him -on to a lot of things the boys liked. I got to be rather popular with -the company in this way, and when the Commissary Sergeant was appointed -in Manila, I managed to get the place, though I was only a rookie. -Perhaps the Captain’s wife helped me out some. She, being an officer’s -lady, wasn’t supposed to know I was on earth, but somehow she noticed me -and fixed it up easy. - -Commissary work was a snap—little drill, no guard mount, leave of -absence occasionally, and the run of the town in a little pony cart. You -see each company had its quota of rations. We could draw them, or leave -them and get credit. There was maple syrup and candy, canned fruit, and -chocolate, and all sorts of good stuff in the storehouse that we could -get at wholesale rates. By cutting down on fresh meat and pinching on -bacon, I managed the company’s accounts so that we could have hot -griddle-cakes and maple syrup every day. That’s the way I held my job. -If I ever become famous it will be for having introduced Pie in the -Philippines. - -Every morning I drove around Manila, visiting the markets with a man to -help me, exchanging sacks of flour for fresh baker’s bread and cakes, -getting chickens, and so on, besides making friends right and left. -About two nights every week I was dancing or flirting with the -half-breed women; Mestizas they called them. That’s how I got into -trouble. - -Her name was Senorita Maria del Pilar Assompcion Aguilar, and nothing -that ever I saw could touch her for looks. She was the kind of woman -that makes you forget everything else that ever happened before. She and -her brother owned about the whole of a province in the middle of the -island of Luzon. When she came into the room it was all over with me. -There was more of the Spanish than the Filipino in her, enough to give -her the style and air of a lady, but she got her beauty from the -tropics. Her hair was like one of those hot black nights they have down -there—silky and soft, drifting around her face—but it was her eyes that -made you lose sleep. They were blue-black, not melting, but wide-awake -and piercing. They were just a bit crossed, hardly a hairbreadth out, -but that little cast seemed to make her even prettier than if they were -straight. A Kansas sergeant told me that the family was in from their -country place, and that the Secret Service people were watching her. She -and her brother were suspected of knowing a good deal about Aguinaldo’s -plans. - -You remember that after the battle of Manila the American troops lay in -town for months, just drilling and waiting to see what the insurgents -were going to do. There were all sorts of rumours afloat, and nobody -knew which way the cat would jump. The Filipinos were camped in a -semi-circle outside the city and growing uglier every day. Our sentries -were watching them close enough to see every nigger that stuck his -finger to his nose at us. - -I saw more and more of Maria, danced with her, or went to her house -every night I could get off. It wasn’t long before I saw that I had her -going. Her brother looked as if he’d like to bolo me in the back, and -never left us alone for a moment. I didn’t care. I was too far gone -myself to be afraid of him. I’ve seen one or two women in my time, but -she could put it over them all. - -Love goes pretty fast in hot countries. One night I happened to find her -alone. Her brother was away on some Katipunan conspiracy business, most -likely, or perhaps dodging our spies. She was dressed like a queen, all -ready for me. I had no more than come in when she threw herself into my -arms and lay there crying. I had gone too far, and I was in for it. - -I let her stay there a little while, kissing her and trying to get her -quiet, and then I looked away, and told her what I should have told her -long before—that I had a wife and couldn’t marry. She took it pretty -hard at first. - -After she had cried she laughed, and there was a load off my mind. I -said to myself that women must be different down here, and thought I was -lucky to get out of it so easy. I thought perhaps she hadn’t been so -badly hurt, after all. She said we’d forget it, and be friends, just the -same. I was a fool and believed her. She asked me to come back -to-morrow, and I said I would. - -The next day I met Señor Aguilar, her brother, and he seemed to be as -friendly as if we were bunkies. He insisted upon my having a drink with -him. He seemed to be glad to know that Maria and I weren’t so much -lovers as he had thought. We sat most of the afternoon drinking cognac, -and I got more and more pleased at having squared myself with them both. -Then some one must have hit me over the head. - -When I came to, my head was bursting. My hands were bound and I was -covered with a sheet of canvas, being jolted in a little bobbing cart. I -yelled for help, and my only answer was the barrel of a Mauser rifle -stuck in my face. Then I went off into a stupor, and for the rest of -that trip I only remember heat, thirst, hunger, stiff joints and a -murderous headache. The journey seemed to go on for years and years, but -I didn’t have energy enough even to wonder what had happened or where I -was going. - -Finally I found myself stretched upon a cot in a white-walled room, -looking through a great arched window into a green _patio_ waving with -palms. Señor Aguilar was standing beside me, smiling wickedly. -Bromo-seltzer wouldn’t have cleared my head the way the sight of him -did. - -“Señor Roberts,” he said, as soon as he saw that I was fully conscious, -“possibly you may have suspected that I have not always been charmed at -the attentions you have paid Señorita Maria. However, you will be glad -to learn that I have at last decided to accept you as my brother-in-law. -I have given directions that the marriage ceremony shall take place -to-morrow evening. I shall be honoured by the alliance, I am sure, for -within a week you will be the only Americano alive on the Island of -Luzon. I have just come from a conference with General Aguinaldo, and -the council of war has set upon February 4th as the date when we shall -have the pleasure of capturing Manila and exterminating your army. You -are at Carrino, a hundred miles from the city, helpless and unarmed. I -think you will see the advisability of accepting gracefully the -privilege of becoming a member of our distinguished family. - -“It is barely possible,” he went on, “that you may feel like declining -to become the husband of Señorita Maria. Americanos are not renowned for -their courtesy. So I give you a day to think it over. We Aguilars do not -often force ourselves upon strangers, but under the circumstances I -consent to forget our family pride. You may give me your answer -to-morrow.” - -I knew what he meant. This was a sample of Spanish revenge with a -Filipino barb to it. If I stayed, I was a branded deserter. I knew that, -and Aguilar knew it too. And he was sure enough that I’d never marry his -sister under those circumstances, or he’d never have made the offer. The -only possible way out of it—although that seemed hopeless—was to escape, -carry the news to General Otis, and save the army. It would mean a -pardon, and maybe shoulder-straps for me. - -Could I get away? That was the question. I had no time to lose. To -travel a hundred miles through an unknown hostile country in a week, -without arms, food or money, was no child’s play. But I watched my -chance. - -About sundown a Tagalo woman, homely as a hedge-fence, came in with my -dinner. She hung round as though she were willing to talk, and I set to -work to see how I could use her. I’d had some experience with women, and -had found them mostly alike, black and white, and I used every trick I -knew on her. Of all the cyclone love-making I ever did, that got over -the ground the quickest. I worked so hard I almost meant it, and she -rose to the hook. - -That night she got the guard off, filled him up with _bino_, and showed -me the way out of the plantation through the banana grove. Outside, she -had a little scrub pony waiting. She pointed to it, and gave me a -general idea of the direction, then put her arms on my shoulders and -held up her great thick lips to be kissed. That was about the hardest -work I had on the whole trip. Then I jumped into the saddle and pelted -down the road like Sheridan thirty miles away. I thought I was a hero, -all right, and I saw my picture in the papers with shoulder-straps and -the girls kissing me, like Hobson. It was a grand-stand play to save the -army. As near as I could calculate, that was the night of January 31st, -and I had six days to get to Manila. It looked easy. - -I kept as nearly south as I could guess, and rode that pony almost to -death. At daylight I hid and hobbled him and crawled into the brush to -sleep. When I woke up the nag was lying in a puddle of blood, hamstrung. -That was the first blow. - -There was not a soul in sight, but I imagined there was a boloman behind -every tree. I listened, and every waving bush scared me worse. I was -actually afraid of the light. If this were the beginning of the trip, -what would the end be? But I had to go on, and do my best. - -I got under cover and crawled like a snake till I came to a patch of -banana trees, where I stopped long enough to eat and to fill my pockets. -For two days I kept it up, making about thirty miles south, I suppose, -dodging villages, skirting the roads and sleeping most of the daytime. -It was hot and dusty; food was scarce and water scarcer. - -So I fought my way through the tropical night, tortured by mosquitos, -insects, and ants. Luckily it was near the full of the moon, and I was -able to drag myself along all night. The way gradually became more moist -and swampy. I toiled through slippery mud, and had often to make detours -to avoid sinking in great morasses. Then, just at dawn of the third -morning I came upon the banks of the Pasig. Now I had four days more in -which to save the army, and a quiet river to drift down at night, hiding -by daylight, if I could only find something to float on. - -Towards noon, as I lay in the bushes, I saw an empty boat bobbing down -stream. I swam out to it, hauled it ashore, and hid it in the bushes. -That night I began to paddle down the river, calling myself “Lieutenant” -Roberts. - -Twice, before morning, I thought I heard the sound of oars or paddles -behind me, and got inshore to listen, but nothing appeared. At dawn I -drew in to the bank, hid the boat, and crawled to a safe place and slept -like a horse. After I had foraged for bananas and got back to the river, -the boat was gone! I began to lose hope. - -I was certain that I had tied the boat securely, so I knew now that -someone was on my trail. I had not only to make my way on foot through -the wilderness, but I was to be dogged at every step. What with the -heat, starvation, and growing fear, I was pretty nearly out of my head, -but the knowledge that upon me alone depended the safety of the army -kept me on, straining every nerve. If it hadn’t been for that, I would -have given it up right there. - -After I had followed the bank of the river for some distance, some logs -came drifting down the current. I took the chances of being seen, and -swam out and captured two of them. Tied together with long, tough -creepers, they made a passable raft, and all that night I floated down -stream, paddling as well as I could with my hands. I passed a lot of -houses and villages on the banks, and so I knew that I was approaching -the city. Sometimes I heard the sound of drums and bugles, for the -insurgents were all over the country raising recruits. I must have been -wandering in my mind by that time, for I wasn’t a bit scared any -more—only watching for wild bananas and bread-fruit, and wondering how -long I’d last. I succeeded in killing some of the many tame ducks I saw, -and ate them raw, not daring to build a fire. - -Next night the river broadened out into a good-sized lake. By the look -of it, I took it to be Laguna de Bay, about twenty-five miles from -Manila. I had only that night and the next day to reach our troops. If -the first shot were fired before I got to the outposts, I might just as -well drop into the Pasig and go to the bottom. - -When the sun rose I slid into the water and struck out for the shore, -intending to take my chances along the bank by daylight. This was the -morning of the 4th of February. Somehow, some way, I had to get through -the circle of the Filipino lines drawn about the city. I hoped that I -was too close to the town for them to dare to interfere with an American -soldier in the daytime. So I climbed up a slippery bank and broke into -the brush, about as tired and discouraged as a man could be and still -live. - -Then—all of a sudden—I was nailed from behind! The game was up. Somebody -gripped me by the throat. I was so weak, there was no fight left in me. -In half a minute I was bound by a dozen niggers, who came jumping out of -the bushes and fell on top of me from all sides at once. I didn’t much -care what they were going to do with me: I had quit. Five days of fear -and suspense and suffering had taken every bit of nerve out of me. - -As soon as I was tied up they began to rush me along the road, kicking -me up every time I faltered, and jabbing me with bolos when I fell. I -don’t know why I didn’t die right then. I don’t know why my hair isn’t -white. - -At last we came to a little nipa hut, guarded by Filipino soldiers in -dirty white uniforms and bare feet. I was thrown inside, unbound, and -given a gourd of rice. I ate it, hoping it was poisoned. From all I saw, -I was sure the tip about the outbreak was straight, for the place was -bustling with soldiers coming and going, and I noticed they all had -ammunition. - -At about four o’clock I was bound again and gagged. I thought it was the -end, sure, this time, and I was ready to die game. But it was only a new -kind of torture. They prodded me with their bayonets, marching me to a -place where I could look through the bushes right across a little river. -There, on the other side, was one of our sentries pacing up and down, -and way off I saw the Stars and Stripes floating in the sun. I could -hear a band playing “There’ll be a hot time,” too. If I could have -yelled across just once and given our boys warning, I wouldn’t have -minded anything they did to me. But I was gagged. I believe I cried. - -Then they took me back to the hut, and night came on. Every minute that -passed made the torture worse and worse. I didn’t care for myself any -more; I was only thinking about the boys across the river, all -unconscious of what was going to happen. I knew so well how careless -they had got to be, and what fun they made of the idea that the niggers -could possibly have the nerve to attack us. They would all be fooling -around the streets of Manila, probably half of them at the theatre or -dancing or in the cafés, leaving only the guard to take the first rush. -It didn’t seem possible that we could be saved. Our entrenchments would -be carried at the first charge, I was sure. The Tagalos in town would -rise, and it would mean a wholesale massacre. - -Of course you know now all about the battle, for the night of February -4, 1899, is school-book history by this time. I doubt if there was any -actual date set by Aguinaldo for rushing Manila, though he had -considerable trouble keeping his cocky little niggers in order. If there -was a time set, it wasn’t that night, anyway. The Filipinos were getting -more insulting every day, and I suppose it was only a question of a week -or so at latest. But I didn’t know it then. Everybody has heard by this -time how the row opened, with a Nebraska private shooting at four -Tagalos who tried to pass Block House No. 6. But all I knew was what -Aguilar had told me, and from what I saw, it looked nasty enough to be -true. I could see that the niggers were prepared to go into action at a -minute’s notice. - -So I waited and waited in the hut, dying by inches. I hoped I had been -fooled, and feared that I wasn’t. I imagined by what I had seen that I -was at San Felipe, on the bank of the San Juan River, where it joins the -Pasig. If so, the Nebraska boys ought to be nearest me. My regiment was -with Ovenshine, to the south of the city, camped near Malate. - -I felt about the way you feel when a tempest is coming up, and I was -just waiting for the first clap of thunder. Along about half-past eight, -I should say, I heard a single shot ring out, and right off, as if it -had been a signal, the Mausers began to crack over by the river. The -fire increased steadily till they were shooting all over to the north in -the Tondo District. Company after company of Filipinos ran past the hut, -the officers yelling like mad. Still, there was nothing but Mausers -going, popping like fire-crackers, and it seemed hours before the fire -was returned. I was sure they had carried the town. At last I heard a -volley of Springfields—I knew them by the heavy boom, and I knew then -that the Nebraska boys had formed and had gone into action. I had been -with the regulars long enough to look down on the volunteers; but when I -heard that firing, I just stood up and yelled! It didn’t die down, but -kept up steadily, and I was sure the boys were holding the Filipinos -back, when the Utah light artillery got into action. Then, just like a -thunderstorm, the noise slowly swept round to the south, and the -Springfields took up the chorus down through Anderson’s Division; first -the California boys and the Idahos of the 1st Brigade, till about three -in the morning the regulars were engaged. Of course I had to guess it -out from what I knew of the way our troops were camped, but I imagined I -could tell the minute my regiment began to fight. The Astor Mountain -Battery and the 6th Artillery began to answer the Filipino’s Krupp guns, -and then till daybreak the battle was going on all round the town. - -I waited for the Springfield fire to weaken, dreading that we would be -driven in, but when it kept up as if it never would stop, I was sure -that we had whipped them. The Filipinos began to retreat past the hut in -disorder, the officers as badly scared as the privates. I was watching -them, laughing, when four niggers broke into the hut, tied my arms, -packed me on a mule, and rushed me off. - -For four or five days I was carried back and forth behind the Filipino -army, dodging out of every skirmish, as the Americans pushed Aguinaldo -back all along the circle. One night we spent in Mariquina, and left -early in the morning, while white flags were flying to lure our troops -into the town. Then we travelled southwest towards Pasai. I wondered -what they were keeping me for, and why they didn’t either kill me or let -me go. Then I remembered what I’d heard of Spanish prisons, and I -stopped wondering and began to pray. - -We ended, finally, in a church the insurgents were trying to hold while -our boys were getting ready to charge. I was driven up into a bell-tower -half battered to pieces from our shells and filled with smoke. A squad -of natives were firing from the windows. - -There in a corner was Señor Aguilar, in the uniform of a Filipino -colonel, and I knew that my case was to be settled at last. He looked -black. I didn’t have long to wait this time. The niggers threw me down, -and put a Filipino uniform blouse on me, taking it from a dead soldier -on the floor. I didn’t try to resist. What was the use? - -Then Aguilar said to me: “I hope you have enjoyed your journey, Señor -Roberts. My men took care to make it as interesting as possible. A man -who has the courage to refuse the hand of an Aguilar deserves -distinguished treatment.” He got as far as that with his Spanish -sarcasm, and then his native Filipino savagery got the better of him. - -“You d—— fool, did you think for a moment that I’d let an American hound -like you marry my sister? Do you think I would let a man live who had -played with her? No, by heaven, nor die, either, except like a dog. I -have let you live long enough to be hanged by your own countrymen. -You’re a deserter, and I’ve given some interesting information to your -spies. And you’ll be caught fighting in our ranks!” Then he drew his -revolver and pointed to the dead Filipino on the floor. “Take that gun, -and go to the window, and shoot down your brother dogs!” he cried. - -I don’t know why I didn’t shoot him, instead, right there, but I had -lost my nerve. I went to the window and fired at a bare space. And then, -if you’ll believe it, I saw my own regimental flag coming up with Old -Glory, as my own bunkies formed for the rush. It was Colonel Knowlton’s -command that was to take the church. I don’t know what ever became of -Aguilar, for I just stood up in the window and cheered as the boys came -on. They charged with a yell that did my heart good to hear, for I lost -myself and my danger watching the way they did the work. - -But I remembered soon enough. The Filipino fire died away, and the -insurgents scurried out of the building like rats. I was pulled back -with them as they retreated, but as we crossed a dry creek bed I -stumbled and fell. Just then a detachment of my own company came up, -skirmishing, and saw me. I threw up my hands, and a corporal covered me. -I knew him well; he used to drive in the little donkey-cart with me in -Manila when I marketed. - -He dropped his rifle and said, “Good God! It’s Roberts.” - -I tried to explain how I’d been knocked out and captured, but they -wouldn’t believe me. I had been posted for a deserter, and Aguilar had -fixed me. All I could do was to ask them to shoot me right there, as if -I had been killed in the battle. But they had cooled down some while I -talked, and they couldn’t do it in cold blood. Finally, the corporal -said: - -“See here, boys, I enlisted to fight, and not to be a hangman. Roberts -has messed with me, and I can’t do it. Perhaps what he says is true; I -don’t know. If you want to arrest him, go ahead. But I’ll be darned if I -want it said that the old 114th had to shoot a deserter. Come on, and -let him take his chances!” - -He turned his back on me, and they followed him. I ripped off my canvas -coat and ran down the creek and hid till night. - -There wasn’t a man on the whole island, nigger or white, who wasn’t my -enemy, and I didn’t expect I’d ever escape. But there was a woman. She -wasn’t exactly the kind you’d ever suspect of having a heart, but she -saved my life. She hid me in a shed outside of the town, and fed me and -nursed me till I was able to get away on a blockade runner and come to -San Francisco. I owe that woman something, and if I’m ever flush again, -she’ll get it back. - -So it was a woman who sent me to the Philippines, it was a woman who got -my promotion, a woman who tortured me like a fiend, and a woman who -saved me. And the queer part of it is that the last one was what most -people would call the worst of the lot! - - * * * * * - -Admeh Drake was seeing his own phantoms of the Philippines on his cot; -the man with the yellow beard, Maidslow, _alias_ Roberts, was looking -with eyes that saw beyond the walls of the Hammam, when the Hero of Pago -Bridge brought himself back with a jerk. - -“You’ve told me all except how you got here,” he said. - -“Plain drunk,” said Maidslow, “the first I dared get after I left the -Islands. But it isn’t safe for me to stay in San Francisco, now Colonel -Knowlton is back here. If Maxie saw through the beard, he will, and the -place is full of Secret Service men.” - -Admeh Drake suddenly jumped from the couch. - -“What will you give me if I get that legacy for you?” - -“A thousand dollars.” - -“Done!” cried the Hero. “See here, it’s too easy! Colonel Knowlton don’t -know your real name’s Maidslow, does he?” - -“No, I enlisted as Roberts.” - -“Dead to rights. He’ll take Maxie’s word when she identifies her husband -to him. All right again. Well, let me play Harry Maidslow, and go with -Maxie to the Colonel. I take my thousand, and you take the rest -and—Maxie. How’s that?” - -“If Maxie will stand for it, I’m ready,” said the deserter. - -During the rest of the night, the man who went for a soldier and wished -he hadn’t, and the man who didn’t go and wished that he had, lay in an -upper corridor of the Hammam discussing the details of their conspiracy. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - THE WARDS OF FORTUNE - - -Soothed by the drone of the Retired Car Conductor’s narrative, and -wearied out with the continuous performance of the night’s adventures, -the Harvard Freshman fell asleep on the wooden bench in his cell at the -Tanks; and it was not until a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder that -he awoke. A bluff policeman was standing over him. - -“Your order for release has come, and you can go now! You and your -pardner was asleep, and I clean forgot you.” - -The officer had a similar word with the Conductor, and led the two -prisoners out into the corridor. While they were waiting for their -property to be taken from the boxes in which it had been stored, Eli -Cook felt idly in his pocket and drew out a torn scrap of red paper -marked with Chinese writing. - -“That’s all they left on me when I was searched,” he said, with a feeble -grin. “Want it for a souvenir of a happy evenin’? It dropped out of a -Chinaman’s pocket yesterday up to Dupont Street, and I picked it up.” - -The Freshman took it, in the same spirit of mockery, and stuffed it into -his own pocket to keep company with several pawn tickets. As they went -together into the street the city bells were striking two o’clock. - -“Gosh!” Coffin cried, with a burst of his old fervor, “I feel like the -chairman of a woman’s club after an annual election. Where you going to -feed your visage, old man?” he added tentatively. He was out of funds, -hungry and weary. The hundred dollars won from the Klondyker in the -smoking wager, deposited for bail, had, in fact, completely exhausted -his resources. The Conductor, however, refused to take the hint, and -manifested a desire to get away. - -“Oh, I got to snoop back to the Beach,” he said. “This has been a hard -day for me, and I dunno how I’m a-goin’ to get even on my hundred if I -have to stand trial. I ain’t exactly hungry, anyway, but perhaps I’ll -stew up some canned stuff out to the cars. Want to come along? You’ll -have to walk, though, and it’s full seven miles through the Park.” - -“No, thanks,” said Coffin, dryly. “I’ve got a poke-out coming to me at -nine, and I guess I can wait. I’ll walk up and down, and let the girls -admire me for a season.” - -“Well, good-by, then!” said Eli Cook of Carville-by-the-Sea, and he -hurriedly made off down Kearney Street. - -The youngster mused. “I shall now endeavor to give the correct imitation -of a thousand-dollar sport in the act of starving to death. I am -wondering, in my simple Japanese way, whether that gentle Klondyker with -my prize money in tow, will ever swim into my ken again. It’s a good -deal like trying to find a pet oyster in a mud flat, but I’ll try my -best. Angels, they say, can do no more. Selah!” With that he walked up -to Gunschke’s cigar store and found the young man who had assisted at -the smoking orgy of the night before. The clerk, however, knew nothing -of the Klondyker’s whereabouts, having never seen the Father of the -Katakoolanat previous to the debauch. The Freshman was in a quandary. - -“Say, has your luck changed yet?” the salesman asked. “Last time I -heard, the curve was still rising.” - -“By Jove, I had forgotten all about that,” cried Coffin. “Let’s see, I -won my hundred at the wager, then I won my thousand, more or less, in -the Chinese lottery, but then I was pulled, and dropped the hundred at -the Tanks. The grand psychological query is, Do I get that thou’? If I -had a nickel to my name I’d put the delicate question to the Oracle of -the Slot and find out how I stand on Fortune’s Golden Rolls.” - -“Oh, I’ll stake you; here you are,” the salesman answered, tossing out a -nickel. “I’d like to know myself. If you’re still winning I’ll take you -out to the race-track and let you do my betting.” - -The Freshman pushed the coin down the slot of the poker machine and -jerked the handle. Three treys appeared behind the wire. “Bully!” cried -the salesman. “Here, you draw four cigars!” - -“Nay, nay, Pauline!” Coffin exclaimed in disgust. “I wouldn’t eat -another cigar to be crowned King of the Barbary Coast! I can never -endure the smell of tobacco again without being as sea-sick as a cat in -a swing. Much obliged for your charity, but I’ll call it square for the -good omen.” - -Irrationally cheered by the portent, James Wiswell Coffin, 3d, wandered -out aimlessly and floated with the throng down towards the cheaper end -of Kearney Street. The cool, green, grassy square at the Old Plaza -attracted him, and he entered the little park. - - * * * * * - -Meanwhile, the plot hatched by the Hero of Pago Bridge and the deserter -of the Philippines had gone forward without a hitch. Drake and Maidslow -had met Maxie at the Biograph Theatre, and she had consented to visit -Colonel Knowlton and represent Drake as her missing husband, that -Maidslow might be safe from being recognised and apprehended by the -Secret Service men as a deserter. Both husband and wife were affected at -this meeting, after so many years, and it was evident to the Hero that a -reconciliation would be easily arranged. Both were lonely. Maxie had -worked so hard and Maidslow had lived so adventurously that the prospect -of settling down to a peaceful married life attracted them equally. This -was now possible if the legacy of old Max could be collected safely from -the Colonel. Their scheme was nothing less them conspiracy; but, after -all, Maidslow, her real husband, would be the one profited, for he would -receive the money. Maxie’s conscience was assuaged by this -consideration. - -At 10.30 that morning Maxie and Drake called upon the Colonel at the -army headquarters and passed the ordeal successfully. The officer was -too busy to spend much time in investigation, and, knowing Maxie as well -as he did, it did not occur to him to suspect fraud. At any rate, the -check for $15,000, which he passed over to Admeh (made payable to Harry -Maidslow) would not be cashed without proper identification, and the -bank would relieve the Colonel of this necessity. He congratulated them -on their reunion, and dismissed them in relief that the responsibility -of his trust was over. - -How Maidslow was to cash the check was now the question. It was easily -solved, at a meeting of the three principals in the plot, by the -decision that old Dietrich, the proprietor of the Biograph Theatre, -could identify the payee. He would undoubtedly believe Maxie’s -introduction of Maidslow as her husband, as this time, at least, she -would be speaking the truth. They left Admeh Drake on the sidewalk while -they proceeded to this next step. - -The old Dutchman was canny, however. “How do I know dat dis man is your -huspant?” he said. “You say so, Maxie, put I neffer seen him pefore! See -here, didn’t you say Harry Maidslow hat a tattoo mark on his arm -alretty? He hat a girl’s name ’Dotty,’ you tole me once. Lemme see dat -mark, and I vill itentify him, sure! Den I know it’s all right!” - -This was easily proved. Maidslow stripped up his sleeve and exhibited -the tattoo mark, and old Dietrich was convinced. He put on his hat to -accompany them to the bank. Excusing himself for a moment, Maidslow -slipped out and spoke to Admeh Drake. - -“It’s all right, Drake, we’re going right down to cash the check. You -get away before Dietrich sees you and gets suspicious, and I’ll meet you -with the thousand dollars at Lotta’s Fountain in half an hour!” - -Drake walked down Market Street. In a few minutes he saw Maxie, -Maidslow, and the old Dutchman approaching. He kept out of sight while -they passed him, on their way to Montgomery Street, where the bank was -located. Then he commenced his vigil at Lotta’s Fountain. - -This is the very hub and centre of San Francisco, in the heart of the -shopping district, and the strategic point for confidence men, tourists, -loiterers, and sports. The three great newspaper buildings form here a -towering group against the sky, and the Palace Hotel, a massive block -honeycombed with windows, is within a stone’s throw. About him eddied -the principal currents of the town, carrying their heterogeneous -collection of humanity. The fountain is an island in the triangular -opening formed by the union of Geary, Kearney, and Market streets, and -each of these important thoroughfares contributed to the liveliness of -the place. Groups of brightly gowned women were awaiting the cable cars -to take them to the Oakland Ferry, cheap actors promenaded up the Rialto -of Market Street, the Geary Street cars swung on the turn-table, -impeding the traffic, and along the sidewalk on Kearney Street the -flower-venders made a vivid splotch of color. The whole place was alive -and bustling, and time went fast with the watcher at the gilded fountain -where no one drank. - -When Admeh Drake looked up to the clock tower above his head, he was -surprised to see that it was already a quarter to twelve. He had waited -nearly an hour. He began to be impatient, nervous, suspicious. Maidslow -should have returned with Maxie long before this. Something must have -happened, or else—he grew frightened at the thought—they had given him -the slip, and would avoid paying him the thousand dollars as his share -of the plot. He waited now with less hope. Surely, if they were coming -at all, they would have returned before this. He lost interest in the -passers-by, and watched only for the two who were to bring him his -reward. - -The clock struck noon, and the throng was swelled by clerks and business -men released for their lunch hour. One o’clock, and the tide poured back -again. Two, and he grew weary with standing, and sat upon the pedestal -of the Fountain. Three, and he gave up all hope. The excitement which -had kept him up all night relaxed. He was faint and limp from lack of -food and sleep. - -So he, too, joined the human current and drifted along Kearney Street -with no set plan of action. - -He turned into the Old Plaza, at Portsmouth Square, his eyes caught by a -sparkle of light from the gilded sails of the little bronze ship on the -Stevenson Memorial. He walked nearer to see what it was, and as he -approached he perceived a young man in a red sweater reading the -inscription on the marble shaft. It was the Harvard Freshman. - -“_To be honest, to be kind_,” Coffin was reading, “_to earn a little and -to spend a little less, to make upon the whole a family happier for his -presence_”—and then he turned away with a bitter protest in his throat, -to see the Hero of Pago Bridge looking over his shoulder. - -“Pretty, ain’t it!” said Admeh Drake, and he, too, looked at the -immortal quotation from the “Christmas sermon.” Had it been written for -him alone, it could not have stung him more fiercely. - -“—_To renounce, when that shall be necessary, and not be embittered, to -keep a few friends, but these without capitulation—above all, on the -same grim condition, to keep friends with himself—here is a task for all -that a man has of fortitude and delicacy_.” - -He turned to Coffin with despair in his eye, all that was best in him -writhing at these graven words. “Say, what the hell did they stick that -up here for, right where every man that has failed can read it and eat -out his heart?” - -Coffin slapped him on the back in sympathy, for even the irrepressible -Freshman seemed for the moment to be touched by the admonitory legend. -But he was not one to be serious for long, and after that one swift -glance into his soul, his customary spirit asserted itself. - -“See here,” he said, “this is the way I look at it. You can’t have good -luck with your conscience all the time, any more’n you can with your -purse. Moral: cultivate your forgettery! We meet under the shadow of the -good ship _Bonaventure_, aforesaid ship being full of buccaneers and -sailing over a Sublime Moral Precept, by R. L. S. I doubt if he would -claim he was always such an angel himself if anybody should drive up in -a chariot and ask him. Lastly, my brethren, why be phazed at a dozen -lines of type? Discard your doubts and draw to the glorious flush of -hope. Amen. Let’s have a drink.” - -They pledged each other somewhat forlornly in Spring Valley water, and -then Coffin remarked, “By the way, what did you do with the dime Coffee -John gave you? Made a fortune yet?” - -“I made a thousand dollars, but I’ve got it to get. I’ve roped her, but -I can’t throw her yet.” - -“A thou’?” Coffin exclaimed, “the devil you have! Jupiter, but that’s -queer! Why, that’s my fix, precisely. I got it on the hook all right, -but I couldn’t haul it into the boat.” - -Exchanging confidences over the night’s adventures, the two wandered up -to the top of the sloping Plaza, where the back of the Woey Sen Low -restaurant arose, three stories high, an iron balcony projecting from -each tier of windows. - -“Let’s come up to the chink’s Delmonico,” suggested the Freshman. “You -can get a great view of the city from up there, and you don’t have to -spend money if you don’t want to.” - -They went round to the front entrance, ascended the stairs, and filed -past empty tables, gaining the balcony. As they stood gazing over San -Francisco they heard steps approaching from behind, and two persons came -into the nearest room. Coffin, who was standing with Drake, out of sight -of the new arrivals, peeped round the corner of a porcelain lantern. - -“It’s a woman,” he whispered. “And a peach-erlooloo of the first degree, -too, by Jove! Nigger or Kanacker blood, though. Let’s go through and -have a look at her.” - -Drake assented. They entered the open doorway and passed carelessly -through the room. A man at the table looked up and nodded. - -“Whittaker!” said the Freshman, when they were out of sight, “the -medium, as I exist! I wonder how he ever got into a friendly mix-up with -that chocolate-colored fairy. There was no heroine with raven locks in -mine.” - -At this moment Vango appeared and stuck a dirty finger in Coffin’s -buttonhole. The medium’s hair was matted and stringy, his clothes -wrinkled and spotted in a shocking disorder. “Come in here,” he said. “I -want to make you acquainted with a lady friend,” and he escorted the -adventurers where the Quadroon sat, already clad in widow’s weeds. - -“Mrs. Moy Kip, let me introduce—Mr.”—here he hesitated, and was -prompted—“Mr. Coffin and Mr. Drake. Set down, gents. This here lady has -suffered recent a sad and tragical bereavement. I was just about to -console her when you passed by, and I hoped you might help distrack her -mind from gloomious thoughts and reflections. The party what has just -passed out, you understand, was a Chinee, but he is now on the happy -side of Jordan, in the spirit spere, and we are some in hopes of having -the pleasure of his society to-night in astral form, if the conditions -is favorable.” - -Here he nudged the Freshman under the table, and Coffin passed the hint -to Drake, neither of them knowing exactly what was expected of them. - -“Do you speak Chinese, madam?” inquired the Freshman, at a loss how to -begin the conversation. “I’ve often wondered about these signs in here. -I suppose they’re mottoes from Confucius. Perhaps you wouldn’t mind -translating some.” He pointed to several long, narrow strips of colored -paper which hung from the walls. - -“Oh, I only know a little Chinese, just about enough to read a common -business letter in the Cantonese dialect,” said the Quadroon. - -Coffin recalled the scrap of paper given him by the retired conductor in -the Tanks, and he drew it from his pocket to show to her. The sharp -black eyes of the ex-medium, sharpened by long practice, fastened upon -it, and he darted a skinny hand. - -“Here you are!” he cried excitedly to the Quadroon. “I told you I’d find -it, and I done it! Look at that, Mrs. Moy Kip, and see if it ain’t the -very same identical piece of paper you was a-searchin’ for. Oh, I felt -it a-comin’ just now when this gentleman entered into the room. I felt a -wave of self-independent spirit message, and I seen a red aura round his -head, thereby denotin’ he was a Psychie.” Exultant as he was, however, -he looked over his shoulder fearfully as if he dreaded interruption. - -The Quadroon had taken another scrap of red paper from her bosom and -tremblingly placed the torn edges of the two together. They fitted -exactly. She suddenly rose with set eyes and mouth, and ran towards the -stairs without a word. - -Vango followed her, leaving Drake and Coffin to wonder at the cause of -the excitement. After a few moments the Professor returned trembling, -pale, and crestfallen. He sank into a seat and covered his face with his -hands. - -“Mrs. Higgins! Mrs. Higgins!” he moaned. “I just see her out by the -stairs! She wouldn’t let me by! Oh, God, she’s after me again! And that -nigger woman’s gone and I’ve lost her. Think of it, after all I’ve went -through, to lose her just as I was winnin’!” - -He looked up haggardly and pounded his fist on the table. “By Jimminy -Christmas! That there piece of paper was worth a thousand dollars, -gents, to me, and I’ve lost it!” - -Drake and Coffin exchanged glances of amused surprise, and Vango added -weakly, looking at the Freshman, “Much obliged, I’m sure, Mr. Coffin.” -He was wondering if he would be asked to divide the prize, in case he -got it. - -“Oh, don’t mention it, old chap,” Coffin answered, “you’re welcome to -all you can make out of that paper with your flim-flam. That sort of -humbuggery isn’t exactly in my line. But suppose you put us wise as to -the facts in the case.” - -The ex-medium, still trembling with the memory of his supernatural fears -and discomfited by the escape of the woman, pulled himself together, and -told of the remarkable series of events which had brought him, that -morning, to Hunter’s Point in a launch containing a Quadroon woman, a -dead Chinaman, a scrap of paper, and $2,000 worth of smuggled opium. - -“I’ve been working the widow soft and easy ever since,” he said. -“Gettin’ that first piece of paper was what I incline to denominate a -masterpiece, but this findin’ of the missin’ half right in your pocket -is nothin’ less than inspirational second-sight. She ought to think -herself lucky to have fell in with me at no cost to herself for a -sittin’ whatever. But will she pay up? That’s the question. Niggers is -creditable, but they is also tricky. But anyways, I bet them two Chinese -highbinders is apt to meet Moy Kip on the opposite shore to-night.” - -It grew dark as they sat there, and when they had finished their stories -they went out upon the balcony again. The light on the Ferry tower -burned like a star against the waters of the Bay. The street lamps -followed suit, and the night closed in. The three Picaroons were in the -first quiet exhilaration that follows hunger and fatigue. Except for the -Freshman’s broken rest at the Tanks, not one of them had slept since -their meeting the previous evening; not one of them had eaten. Their -eyes were glassy, but not yet sleepy; they were like dead men who could -still walk and speak. A dull fever burned in their veins. Talk, then, -grew faint, and even thought flickered but dimly. There was nothing -positive to look forward to but Coffee John’s invitation to supper at -nine o’clock, so they waited listlessly for the hour. Finally, a -proposal from the indefatigable Coffin to wander through the Chinese -quarter lured them out. - -They turned into Ross Alley. This narrow lane of shops and gambling -houses was swarming with passers-by. As the three men entered the -passage, the sound of banging doors preceded them; the outer guards of -the fan-tan resorts, catching sight of white faces and fearing -detectives, were slamming and bolting the entrances. - -Before they had gone half the length of the alley, Coffin noticed a -Chinaman in felt hat and blue blouse standing idly by a lamp-post, and -behind him a second man, leaning against a brick wall. The Freshman’s -alert eye awoke and took the two in at a glance, for he noted something -vaguely furtive in their apparently careless attitudes. - -Now another Chinese approached the two figures at a rapid pace, holding -one hand hidden in his blouse. A few feet behind him a coolie followed, -looking sharply to the right and left. Coffin was just about to call -Drake’s attention to them, when, without warning, the man by the lamp -whipped out a revolver and fired point blank at the one approaching. The -pistol barked three times in rapid succession, then the weapon was -swiftly handed to the loafer by the wall. It was like the passing of the -ball to the quarter-back in a football game, for, on the instant, these -two and another broke through the crowd and ran in different directions. -As they started, the bodyguard of the wounded man drew his own pistol -and sent a stream of bullets after the fugitives. - -The fusillade scattered the crowd in the alley. The Chinese dodged this -way and that, escaping into doors and down cross lanes to avoid the -officers who would soon appear to question them. The Freshman pulled his -companions hurriedly into a little shop, and, whirling them back to the -door, drew their surprised attention to a case of jade ornaments. - -“Lay low,” he exclaimed, “the police will be here in a moment, and we -don’t want to be run in and held for witnesses. We couldn’t identify the -chink, anyway. I say let ’em have it out their own way.” - -He looked out and saw a plain-clothes detective running down the alley -to where the dead man lay. From the other end of the passage two -officers in uniform came up, sweeping a dozen Chinese in front of them. -One policeman lined the fugitives in front of him, while the other -examined them for weapons. As none were found, the crowd was rapidly -dispersed. The detective looked in at the shop door. - -“Did you see the shooting?” he asked. - -“We got to the door here just in time to see three men running, but I -didn’t catch their faces,” said Coffin coolly. “What’s the row?” - -“Oh, another Tong war,” said the detective. “Moy Kip was shot last -night, and this one is the first one to pay up the score. Of course we -can’t do nothing without no witnesses except this monkey!” and he went -about his business. - -“Well,” said Professor Vango, as they passed from the scene, “that’s the -finishin’ conclusion to my picnic. I hope yourn won’t end so tragic.” - -“I don’t know,” the Freshman replied, “you may find your dusky beauty -yet. Then Drake has to catch his soubrette, and I would fain discover -the gentle Klondyker. I consider it about horse and horse. Funny! Here -each of us has made a thousand dollars, and not one is any better off -than he was last night, plum broke! That’s what we used to call a -paradox at Harvard, in ’English 13.’ And I’m carnivorously hungry to -boot. I haven’t bitten anything except a cigar since the feed last -night.” - -“Nor me, neither,” asserted the Professor. - -“Here too!” said Admeh Drake. - -“Then it would seem to be up to Coffee John again. He seems to be the -god in this machine. Come on, and we’ll give an imitation of a -three-stamp mill crushing ore!” So saying, still jubilant, still -heartening them with frivolous prattle, the Harvard Freshman piloted his -comrades down Clay Street. - -As they passed the old Plaza, Drake looked over his shoulder once or -twice and said, “I reckon we’re being followed, pardners. There’s a -chink been on our trail ever since we turned out of the lane, up yonder. -I hope they ain’t got it in for us because we saw the scrap!” - -The soft-footed coolie was half a block behind them, when, without a -word of explanation, Coffin suddenly bolted and ran up Kearney Street. -Vango gave a gasp and clutched the cowboy’s arm. - -“What’s the matter?” he whimpered. “Where’s Coffin went? Is he scared?” - -“You can search me!” Drake said, philosophically. “I give it up, unless -he’s running to get an appetite for dinner. Don’t you fret, I’ll stand -by you if there’s any trouble.” - -Taking the medium’s arm, he walked down Clay Street until they came to -Coffee John’s window. Then, looking round, they saw the Chinaman coming -up to them boldly, with a grin on his face. - -“You name Vango?” the coolie said. - -“That’s right! What d’you want with him?” the cowboy replied, for the -Professor was too frightened to answer. - -The Chinaman felt inside his blouse, while Drake watched for the first -sight of a weapon. Nothing more formidable was brought forth, however, -than a smallish paper-wrapped parcel. Vango took it cautiously. It was -suspiciously heavy. - -“Moy Kip wife send,” explained the Chinaman, and retreated up the -street. - -The medium, in an agony of excitement, opened the parcel by the light of -the window. It contained fifty golden double eagles. His little beady -black eyes sparkling, he jubilantly entered the restaurant with Drake. - -Close on their heels came James Wiswell Coffin, 3d, waving a bunch of -greenbacks above his head. “I got him! Oh, I got the green-eyed -Klondyker all right!” he cried. “He had cashed my lottery ticket, and he -handed me over ten hundred pea-green dollars! Oh, frabjous day, we dine, -we dine to-night!” - -Coffee John, who had been conversing with some unseen patron in a tiny, -curtained-off room in the rear of the shop, now came forward and greeted -the Picaroons. - -“My word,” he remarked, “yer do look bloomin’ ’appy, reg’lar grinnin’ -like a Chinee at a Mission Sabbath School! All but Dryke,” he added, -noticing his favorite’s gloomy looks, in sharp contrast to the delight -of the others. “Wot’s wrong? Ain’t your aig ’atched, too? Well, per’aps -it will, yet. They’s a lydy a-wytin’ darn in thet there room for you. -Been there a ’arf hour an’ is nar nacherly a bit impytient. Looks like a -narce gal, too, if she didn’t put so much flar on her fyce. She may ’ave -good news for yer.” - -Drake started before Coffee John finished, and, entering the little -compartment, found Maxie Morrow awaiting him. He held out his hand in -pleased surprise. She offered him a thick envelope in return. - -“Oh, I’m in an awful hurry,” she began, “and I haven’t a minute to -spare. I’m afraid you thought we weren’t going to keep our word, but -really, Mr. Drake, we couldn’t help it! I was so sorry to keep you -waiting so long, but, just as we left the Bank, I saw Colonel Knowlton -come in. I was so afraid he’d suspect something, seeing me there with -Harry, instead of with you, and Harry was so afraid the Colonel would -put the Secret Service men on his track, that we jumped on a car and -went right to my house on Bush Street, and Harry has been afraid to show -himself outdoors since. We’re going to try to get away to-morrow to -Southern California, but I was just bound that you should have your -thousand dollars, so I brought it down here. Lucky you told Harry you -were coming to Coffee John’s, wasn’t it? Now, good-by, and good luck to -you!” - -With that she rustled out of the restaurant, and Drake joined the group -at the counter. - -“Nort by no means!” Coffee John was saying. “Tortoni’s be blowed! If -Coffee John’s peach pie an’ corfee ain’t good enough fer yer to-night, -yer can go and eat withart me. Fust thing, I want to hear the tyles -told. Afore I begin to ’elp yer eat your money, I want to know ’ow it’s -come by! After thet, I don’t sye as I won’t accep’ a invitytion to dine -proper.” - -The proprietor was insistent, and though a thousand dollars burned in -each pocket, the Picaroons, so gloriously come into port, sat down to a -more modest repast than had been set in that room the night before. -Between mouthfuls, one after the other told to his benefactor the story -of his lucky dime—the Freshman with a tropic wealth of flowery trope and -imagery, the ex-Medium with unction and self-satisfied glibness, the -Hero of Pago Bridge with his customary simplicity. Not one of them -expected the flagon of morality that was to be broached by their host, -forbye. - -For, as the tales developed, Coffee John’s face grew set in sterner -disapproval. Coffin’s story moulded disdain upon the Cockney’s lip—the -recital of Professor Vango altered this expression to scorn—but at the -confession of Admeh Drake the proprietor’s face froze in absolute -contempt, and he arose in a towering wrath. - -“See ’ere, gents,” he began, folding his red bare arms, “though w’y I -should call yer thet, w’ich yer by no means ain’t, I don’t know—nar I -see wot good it is to plyce a mistaken charity in kindness! I’ve went -an’ throwed awye me thirty cents on yer, blow me if I ain’t! I said yer -was ’ard cyses, an’ yer _be_ ’ard cyses, an’ so yer’ll nacherly continue -till yer all bloomin’ well jugged for it! - -“You, Coffin,” he pointed with severity, “you ’ave conspired against the -laws of this ’ere Styte w’ich forbids a gyme o’ charnce, besides ’avin’ -patronized a Chinee lottery, w’ich same is also illegal. You, Vango, -’ave comparnded a felony, by bein’ a receiver o’ stolen goods subjick to -dooty in Federal customs. And you, Dryke, who, bite me if I didn’t ’ave -a soft spot in me ’art for, yer’ve gone an’ went an’ obtayned money -under false pretences, an’ ’arbored an’ abetted a desarter from the -harmy o’ your country, for if you believe that there cock-an’-a-bull -story, I don’t!” - -He raised his arms threateningly, like an outraged Jove. “Git art from -under me roof, all o’ yer! Yer no better than lags in the Pen!” - -The three Picaroons passed through the door and faded into the darkness. -The Cockney watched them separate, and then reëntering his shop, turned -out the lamp and locked the door. - -“I feed no more bums!” said Coffee John. - - - The End - ------------------------------------------------------------------------- - - - - - TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES - - - 1. Added “The Mystery of the Hammam” to the Contents on p. viii. - 2. Silently corrected typographical errors. - 3. Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - 4. 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You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of -the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you'll have -to check the laws of the country where you are located before using this ebook. - - - -Title: The Picaroons - -Author: Gelett Burgess - Will Irwin - -Release Date: July 21, 2017 [EBook #55164] - -Language: English - -Character set encoding: UTF-8 - -*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICAROONS *** - - - - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - - - - - -</pre> - - -<div class='tnotes covernote'> - -<p class='c000'><strong>Transcriber's Note:</strong></p> - -<p class='c000'>The cover image was created by the transcriber and is placed in the public domain.</p> - -</div> - -<div class='ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE PICAROONS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>By the Same Author</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id001'> -<img src='images/i_002.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div><cite>The Reign of Queen Isyl</cite></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div> - <h1 class='c002'><span class='xlarge'>THE</span><br /> PICAROONS</h1> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c003'> - <div><span class='large'>BY GELETT BURGESS</span></div> - <div><span class='large'>AND WILL IRWIN</span></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='figcenter id002'> -<img src='images/i_003.jpg' alt='' class='ig001' /> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> - <div class='nf-center'> - <div>NEW YORK</div> - <div>McCLURE, PHILLIPS & COMPANY</div> - <div>MCMIV</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div><em>Copyright, 1904, by</em></div> - <div><span class='sc'>McClure, Phillips & Co.</span></div> - <div class='c003'>Published, April, 1904</div> - <div class='c004'><em>Copyright, 1903, 1904, by Pearson Publishing Co.</em></div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>To THE RED CYCLONE</div> - <div class='c003'>G. B——      W. I.</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> - -<div class='ph1'> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c001'> - <div>THE PICAROONS</div> - </div> -</div> - -</div> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_vii'>vii</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CONTENTS</h2> -</div> - -<table class='table0' summary='CONTENTS'> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER I</td></tr> - <tr> - <th class='c007'></th> - <th class='c007'> </th> - <th class='c008'>Page</th> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>A MIRACLE AT COFFEE JOHN’S</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_3'>3</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Great Bauer Syndicate</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_15'>15</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER II</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>JAMES WISWELL COFFIN 3d.</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_26'>26</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Harvard Freshman</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_27'>27</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER III</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>PROFESSOR VANGO</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_45'>45</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Ex-Medium</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_46'>46</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER IV</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>ADMEH DRAKE</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_60'>60</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Hero of Pago Bridge</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_61'>61</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER V</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>THE DIMES OF COFFEE JOHN</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_81'>81</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of Big Becky</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_83'>83</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'><span class='pageno' id='Page_viii'>viii</span>CHAPTER VI</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>THE HARVARD FRESHMAN’S ADVENTURE: THE FORTY PANATELAS</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_102'>102</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Returned Klondyker</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_108'>108</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Retired Car-Conductor</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_143'>143</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER VII</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>THE EX-MEDIUM’S ADVENTURE: THE INVOLUNTARY SUICIDE</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_156'>156</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Quadroon Woman</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_175'>175</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER VIII</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>THE HERO’S ADVENTURE: THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_192'>192</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Minor Celebrity</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_199'>199</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Mystery of the Hammam<a id='viii'></a></td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_209'>209</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Dermograph Artist</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_217'>217</a></td> - </tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007'> </td> - <td class='c007'>The Story of the Deserter of the Philippines</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_236'>236</a></td> - </tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr><td class='c006' colspan='3'>CHAPTER IX</td></tr> - <tr><td> </td></tr> - <tr> - <td class='c007' colspan='2'>THE WARDS OF FORTUNE</td> - <td class='c009'><a href='#Page_258'>258</a></td> - </tr> -</table> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>NOTE</h2> -</div> - -<p class='c010'><em>Picaroon—a petty rascal; one who lives by his -wits; an adventurer. The Picaresque Tales, in -Spanish literature of the beginning of the Seventeenth -Century, dealt with the fortunes of beggars, -impostors, thieves, etc., and chronicled the Romance -of Roguery. Such stories were the precursors -of the modern novel. The San Francisco -Night’s Entertainment is an attempt to render similar -subjects with an essentially modern setting.</em></p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_3'>3</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER I<br /> <span class='large'>A MIRACLE AT COFFEE JOHN’S</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>The lad in the sweater yawned with abandon -and glanced up at the clock which -hung on the whitewashed wall between a -lithograph of Admiral Dewey and a sign bearing -the legend: “Doughnuts and Coffee, 5 cents.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I move we proceed,” he said, impatiently. -“There’ll be nobody else here to-night; all the -stew-bums have lined up at the bakeries for free -bread. I say, old man, you pull the trigger and -we’re off! I’ve got a two-days’ handicap on my -appetite and I won’t do a thing but make an Asiatic -ostrich of myself!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll back my stomach against yours,” said the -man with spectacles who sat opposite him. “I’ll -bet I could eat a ton of sinkers and a barrel of this -brown paint. I’m for rounding up the grub myself. -I’ll be eating the oil-cloth off this table, pretty -soon!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_4'>4</span>The proprietor of the dingy little restaurant -turned to them from the counter in front, where he -had been arranging a pile of wet plates and an exhibit -of pastry in preparation for the next morning’s -breakfasts. Wiping his hands on his apron, he -said with a Cockney accent which proclaimed his -birth, hinted at by his florid countenance and mutton-chop -whiskers, “I sye, gents, if yer don’t want -to wyte, yer know bloomin’ well wot yer <em>kin</em> do, -an’ that’s git art! Strike me pink if yer ain’t gort -a gall! Yer a bit comin’ on, gents, if yer don’t -mind me syin’ it. I told yer I’d give yer an A1 -feed if yer’d on’y wyte for another bloke to show -up, an’ he ain’t ’ere yet, is ’e? Leastwise, if ’e is, -I don’t see ’im.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He took off his apron, nevertheless, as if he, too, -were anxiously expectant, and he cast repeated -glances at the door, where, painted on the window -in white letters, were the words, “Coffee -John’s.” Then he left the range behind the counter -and came across the sanded floor to the single oil-lamp -that lighted the two men who were his last -patrons for the day.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The younger, he with the red sweater, had a -round, jocund face and a merry, rolling eye that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_5'>5</span>misfortune was powerless to tame, though the lad -had evidently discovered Vagabondia.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Who’s your interesting but mysterious friend?” -he asked. “You’re not expecting a lady, I hope!” -and he glanced at his coat which, though it had -the cut of a fashionable tailor, was an atrocious -harlequin of spots and holes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know who’s a comin’ no more’n you -do,” Coffee John replied. “But see ’ere!” and -he pointed with a blunt red finger at an insurance -calendar upon the wall. “D’yer cop that there -numero? It’s the Thirteenth of October to-dye, -an’ they’ll be comp’ny all right. They allus is, the -Thirteenth of October!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, you rope him and we’ll brand him,” remarked -the other at the table, a man of some -twenty-two years, with a typically Western cast of -countenance, high cheek-bones and an aquiline -nose. His eyes were gray-blue behind rusty steel -spectacles. “I hope that stranger will come pretty -durn pronto,” he added.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“There’ll be somethink a-doin’ before nine, I -give yer <em>my</em> word. I’ll eat this ’ere bloomin’ pile -o’ plytes if they ain’t!” Coffee John asserted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Scarcely had he made the remark when the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_6'>6</span>clock rang out, ending his sentence like a string of -exclamation points, and immediately the door burst -open and a man sprang into the room as though he -were a runaway from Hell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In his long, thin, white face two black eyes, set -near together, burned with terror. His mouth was -open and quivering, his hands were fiercely clinched. -Under a battered Derby hat his stringy black hair -and ragged beard played over his paper collar in a -fringe. He wore a cutaway suit, green and shiny -with age, which, divorced at the waist, showed a -ring of red flannel undershirt. He crept up to the -counter like a kicked spaniel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“For God’s sake, gimme a drink o’ coffee, will -you?” he whined.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wot’s bitin’ yer?” Coffee John inquired without -sentiment. “Don’t yer ask me to chynge a -’undred-dollar bill, fur I reelly can’t do it!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I lost my nerves, that’s all,” he said, looking -over his shoulder apprehensively. Then, turning -to the two at the table, he gazed at them over the -top of a thick mug of coffee. “Lord! That’s -good! I’m better now,” he went on, and wiped off -his mustache with a curling tongue, finishing with -his sleeve. “If I should narrate to you the experience -<span class='pageno' id='Page_7'>7</span>which has just transpired, gents, you wouldn’t -believe it. You’d regard myself as a imposition. -But facts is authentic, nevertheless, and cannot be -dissented from, however sceptical.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here!” cried the lad in the sweater, not -too unkindly, “suppose you tell us about it some -other time! We’ve been waiting for you many -mad-some moons, and the time is ripe for the harvest. -If you are as hungry as we are, and want -to be among those present at this function, sit down -and you’ll get whatever is coming to you. You can -ascend the rostrum afterward. We were just looking -for one more, and you’re it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The vagabond looked inquiringly at Coffee John, -who, in response, pointed to a chair. “Why cert’nly,” -the new-comer said, removing his hat, “I -must confess I ain’t yet engaged at dinner this evening, -and if you gents are so obliged as to——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Rope it!” roared the man in spectacles, out of -all patience. The voluble stranger seated himself -hurriedly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John now drew two tables together. -“Jest excuse me for half a mo’, gents, w’ile I unfurl -this ’ere rag,” he said, spreading the cloth.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The three strangers looked on in surprise, for the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_8'>8</span>Cockney’s tone had changed. He wore an expectant -smile as he seated himself in the fourth -place and rapped loudly on the table, distributing, -as he did so, a damask napkin to each of his guests.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gloriana peacock!” cried the man in spectacles, -“I’m sorry I forgot to wear my dress-suit. I -had no idea you put on so much dog for coffee and -sinkers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Get wise, old chap,” the man in the sweater -said, warningly, “I have a hunch that this is to be -no mere charity poke-out. This is the true chloroform. -We’re up against a genuine square this trip, or -I’m a Patagonian. How about that, Coffee John?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The host tucked his napkin into his neck and replied, -benignly, “Oh, I dunno, we’ll do wot we kin, -an’ them as ain’t satisfied can order their kerridges.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>As he spoke, two Chinamen emerged from the -back room and filed up the dusky rows of tables, -bearing loaded trays. Swiftly and deftly they -spread the board with cut glass, china, and silverware, -aligning a delectable array of bottles in -front of the proprietor. In a trice the table began -to twinkle with the appointments of a veritable -banquet, complete even to a huge centre-piece of -California violets. In that shabby hole an entertainment -<span class='pageno' id='Page_9'>9</span>began to blossom like a flower blooming -in a dunghill, and the spectators were awed and -spellbound at the sudden miracle of the transformation. -The man in the red sweater loosened his -belt three holes under the table, the black-eyed -man pulled a pair of frayed cuffs from his sleeves, -and the other wiped his glasses and smiled for the -first time. When all was ready, Coffee John arose, -and, filling the glasses, cried jubilantly:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gents, I give yer the good ’elth of Solomon -Bauer, Esquire, an’ the Thirteenth of October, an’ -drink ’earty!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The toast was drunk with wonder, for the -men were visibly impressed, but, at the entry of -oysters, each began to eat as if he were afraid it -were all a dream and he might awake before it -was over. The lad with the merry eye alone -showed any restraint; his manners were those of -a gentleman. The one with the spectacles drank -like a thirsty horse, and the thin, black-haired individual -watched the kitchen-door to see what was -coming next. Following the oysters came soup, -savoury with cheese.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“<span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">Potage <em>au fromage</em>, <em>a la</em> Cafe Martin</span>, or I’ve -never been in New York!” cried the youngster.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_10'>10</span>“Correck. I perceive yer by wye of bein’ an -epicoor,” Coffee John remarked, highly pleased at -the appreciation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I didn’t think they could do it in San Francisco,” -the youth went on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Cockney turned his pop-eyes at the lad, -and, with the bigotry of a proselyte, broached his -favourite topic. “Young man, we kin do anythink -they kin do in New York, not to speak of a trick -or two blokes go to Paris to see done; an’ occysionally -we kin go ’em one better. Yer don’t know -this tarn yet. It’s a bloomin’ prize puzzle, that’s -wot it is; they’s a bit o’ everythink ’ere!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The fish followed, barracuda as none but Tortoni -can broil; then terrapin, teal, venison, and so, -with Western prodigality, to the dessert. The -guests, having met and subdued the vanguard of -hunger, did hilarious battle with the dinner, stabbing -and slashing gallantly. No one dared to put -his good fortune to the hazard of the inquiry, though -each was curious, until at last the lad in the sweater -could resist wonder no longer. The demands -of nature satisfied, his mind sought for diversion. -He laid his fork down, and pushed back his -plate.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_11'>11</span>“It’s too good to be true,” he said. “I want to -know what we’re in for, anyway! What’s your -little game? It may be bad manners to be inquisitive, -but I’ve slept in a wagon, washed in a -horse-trough and combed my hair with tenpenny -nails for so long that I’m not responsible. The time -has come, the walrus said, to speak of many things! -and I balk right here until I know what’s up your -sleeve. No bum gets a Delmonico dinner at a coffee-joint -on the Barbary Coast for nothing, I don’t -think; and by John Harvard, I want to be put next -to whether this is charity, insanity, a bet, or are you -trying to fix us for something shady?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What d’you want to stampede the show for?” -interrupted the man in spectacles. “We haven’t -been asked to pay in advance, have we? We’ve -signed no contract! You were keen to begin as a -heifer is for salt, and when we draw a prize you -want to look a gift-horse in the jaw! Get onto -yourself!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gents,” the unctuous voice of the third man -broke in, “they’s champagne a-comin’!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John had been looking from one to the -other in some amusement. “Easy, gents,” he remarked. -“I ain’t offended at this ’ere youngster’s -<span class='pageno' id='Page_12'>12</span>expreshings, though I don’t sye as wot I mightn’t -be, if ’e wa’n’t a gentleman, as I can see by the wye -’e ’andles ’is knife, an’ the suspicious fack of ’is -neck bein’ clean, if he <em>do</em> wear a Jarsey. Nar, all -I gort to sye is, thet this ’ere feast is on the squyre -an’ no questions arsked. As soon as we gits to the -corffee, I’ll explyne.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I accept your apology,” the lad cried, gayly, and -he rose, bubbling with impudence. “Gentlemen-adventurers, -knights of the empty pocket, comrades of -the order of the flying brake-beam and what-not, I -drink your very good health. Here’s to the jade -whose game we played, not once afraid of losing, -ah! It is passing many wintry days since I fed on -funny-water and burned cologne in my <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">petit noir</span></i>, -but there <em>was</em> a time—! My name, brothers of the -pave, is James Wiswell Coffin 3d. Eight Mayflower -ancestors, double-barrelled in-and-in stock, -Puritans of Plymouth. Wrestling Coffin landed at -Salem in the <em>Blessing of the Bay</em>, 1630, and——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Whoa, there!” the man in spectacles cried. -“You ain’t so all-fired numerous! I left a happy -mountain-home myself, but the biographical contest -don’t come till the show is over in the big tent!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Cert’nly not, after you vetoed at my remarks,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_13'>13</span>said the third. “Let’s testify after the dishes is -emptier and we begin to feel more like a repletion!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In such wise the guests proceeded with badinage -till the fruit appeared. Then, as a plate containing -oranges and bananas was placed on the -table, the young man of the party suddenly arose -with a look of disgust, and turned from the sight.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here, Coffee John,” he said, pacifically, -“would you mind, as a grand transcontinental -favour, removing those bananas? I’m very much -afraid I’ll have to part with my dinner if you don’t.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wot’s up?” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothing, yet,” said the youth. “But I’ll explain -later. We’ll have to work out all these puzzles -and word-squares together.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The bananas were taken away, while the others -looked on curiously. Then the man with glasses -grew serious, and said, “As long as objections -have been raised, and the whole bunch is a bit -loco, I don’t mind saying I’ve a request to make, -myself.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Speak up, an’ if they’s anythink wrong, I’ll try -to myke it correck,” said Coffee John. “’Evving -knows it ain’t ’ardly usual for the likes o’ me to tyke -orders from the likes o’ you, but this dinner is gave -<span class='pageno' id='Page_14'>14</span>to please, <em>if</em> possible, an’ I don’t want no complyntes -to be neglected. Wot’s the matter nar?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ve been sitting with my back to the wall, as -you may have noticed, but there’s that over my head -that makes me feel pretty sick when I catch myself -thinking,” said the objector. “It’s that picture of -Dewey. He’s all right, and a hero for sure; but -if you don’t mind, would you turn him face to the -wall, so I can look up?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Don’t menshing it,” said Coffee John, rising to -gratify this eccentric request. “Nar wot’s your -private an’ partickler farncy?” he asked, turning to -the thin, dark man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nothin’ at all, only proceed with the exercises, -and if you’d be magnanimous enough to allow me -to smoke, they being no females present——”</p> - -<p class='c000'>A box of Carolina perfectos was brought in, with -a coffee-urn, cognac, and liqueurs, and the three men, -now calm, genial, and satisfied, gave themselves up -to the comforts of tobacco. Even the youngest allowed -himself to draw up a chair for his feet, and -sighed in content. Coffee John finished the last -drop in his glass, drew out his brier pipe, and lighted -it. Then, producing a folded paper from his -pocket, he raised his finger for silence and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_15'>15</span>“If yer wants to know the w’y and the w’erfore -of this ’ere reparst, gents, I am nar ready to give -yer satisfaction o’ sorts. It ain’t me yer obligyted -to, at all; it’s a newspyper Johnnie nymed Sol -Bauer who’s put up for it, him as I arsked yer for -to drink a ’elth to. It’s a proper queer story ’ow ’e -come to myke and bryke in this ’ere very shop o’ -mine, an’ if yer stogies is all drawin’ easy, I’ll read -the tyle as ’e wrote it art for me, skippin’ the interduction, -w’ich is personal, ’e bein’ of the belief that -it wos me wot brought ’im luck.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“So ’ere goes, from w’ere ’e come darn to this -plyce of a Hoctober night five years ago.” And -so saying, he opened the paper. The narrative, -deleted of Coffee John’s dialect, was as follows:</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE GREAT BAUER SYNDICATE</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>Ten years I had been a newspaper man, and -had filled almost every position from club -reporter to managing editor, when just a -year ago I found myself outside Coffee John’s restaurant, -friendless, hungry, and without a cent to -my name. Although I had a reputation for knowing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_16'>16</span>journalism from A to Z, I had been discharged -from every paper in the city. The reason was -good enough; I was habitually intemperate, and -therefore habitually unreliable. I did not drink, as -many journalists do, to stimulate my forces, but for -love of the game. It was physically impossible for -me to remain sober for more than two weeks at a -time.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I had, that day, been discharged from the <cite>Tribune</cite> -for cause. The new president of the Southern -Pacific Company was on his way to San Francisco, -and it was necessary for our paper to get ahead of -its contemporaries and obtain the first interview. -I was told to meet the magnate at Los Angeles. I -loitered at a saloon till I was too late for the train, -and then decided I would meet my man down the -line at Fresno. The next train south left while I -was still drinking. I had time, however, to catch -the victim on the other side of the bay, and interview -him on the ferry, but he got in before I roused -myself from my dalliance with the grape. Then, -trusting to sheer bluff, I hurried into the office, -called up two stenographers, dictated a fake interview -containing important news, and rushed the -thing on the press.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_17'>17</span>The next day the president of the railway repudiated -the whole thing, and I was summarily given -the sack. Nevertheless, it so happened that almost -the whole of what I had predicted came true within -the year.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I celebrated the bad luck in my characteristic -manner, and finished with just sense enough to wish -to clear my head with black coffee. So, trusting to -my slight acquaintance with Coffee John, and more -to his well-known generosity, I entered his place, and -for the first time in my life requested what I could -not pay for. I was not disappointed. A cup of -coffee and a plate of doughnuts were handed me -without comment or advice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As I was making my meal in the back part of the -little restaurant, three men, one after the other, -came and sat down at my table. In the general -conversation that ensued I found that one was a -tramp printer, whose boast it was to have worked -and jumped his board-bill in nearly every State in -the Union; one was a book-agent, who had been -attempting to dispose of “The Life of U. S. Grant,” -and the third was an insurance solicitor, who had -failed to make good the trade’s reputation for acumen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A little talk developed the fact that all four of us -<span class='pageno' id='Page_18'>18</span>were out of funds, and ready for anything that -promised to keep the wolf from the door. Then, -with a journalist’s instinct for putting three and one -together, an idea came to me by which we could -all find a way out of the dilemma.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For it so happened that one of the <cite>Herald’s</cite> periodical -upheavals had occurred that very day, and a -general clean-up was being effected in the office. -The city editor, after a stormy interview with his -chief, had resigned, and had carried with him four -of the best men on the staff. Other reporters who -had taken his part had also been let go, and the -city room of the <cite>Herald</cite> was badly in need of assistance. -It was very likely that any man who could -put up any kind of a pretence to knowing the ropes -would stand a fair chance of obtaining a situation -without any trouble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>My plan was this: Each of the three men was -to apply for a situation as reporter on the <cite>Herald</cite>, -and, if accepted, was to report the next day for his -assignment, and then come immediately to me for -instructions. I was to give them all the necessary -information as to obtaining the material, and, when -they had brought me the facts, write out the story -for them to hand in.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_19'>19</span>The three men agreed enthusiastically to the venture, -and I spent the evening in coaching them in -the shop-talk and professional terms they would need. -You cannot teach a man what “news” is in one -sitting—a man has to have a nose trained to smell -it, and a special gift for determining its value, but I -described the technical meaning of “a story” and -“covering” a detail. I told them to keep their -eyes open, and gave many examples of how it often -happened that a reporter, when sent out on a little -“single-head” story, would, if he were sharp, get -a hint that could be worked up into a front page -“seven-column scare-head.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There is, of course, no royal road to journalism, -but there are short-cuts that can be learned. I -gave them points on the idiosyncrasies of the new -man at the city desk, for I knew him well, and I -provided each of them with a yarn about his supposed -previous place. One, I believe, was to have -worked on the St. Louis <cite>Globe-Herald</cite>, under George -Comstock; one had done special writing on the Minneapolis -<cite>Argus</cite>, and so on; for I knew a lot about -all the papers in the East, and I fixed my men so -they couldn’t easily be tripped up on their autobiographies.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_20'>20</span>They went down to the <cite>Herald</cite> office that night, -and after I had waited an hour or so, I had the -satisfaction of hearing that all three of my pupils -had been accepted. It was agreed that each of -them was to give me half his salary, and so I had a -fair show of earning a man and a half’s wages as -President of the Great Bauer Syndicate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At one o’clock the next afternoon I sat down in -Coffee John’s and waited for my subordinates to -report. As each man came in I gave him minute -instructions as to the best possible way of obtaining -his information. There was not a trick in the trade -I didn’t know, and I had never been beaten by any -paper in town. I had succeeded in obtaining interviews -at two in the morning from persons avowedly -hostile to my sheet, I had got photographs -nobody else could get, and I had made railroad -officials talk after an accident. Without conceit, I -may claim to be a practical psychologist, and where -most men know only one way of getting what they -want, I know four. My men had little excuse for -failing to obtain their stories, and they walked out -of Coffee John’s like automata that I had wound up -for three hours.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They returned between four and five o’clock, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_21'>21</span>gave me the information they had secured, and, -while they reported to the city editor, received instructions -as to writing the story, and got their evening’s -assignment, I wrote the articles at railroad -speed. I could tell as well as any city editor how -much space the stories were worth, and wrote the -head-lines accordingly—for in the <cite>Herald</cite> office -every reporter was his own head-line writer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>If by any chance the editor’s judgment were not -the same as mine, it took but a few minutes to cut -the thing down or pad it to any length, and my men -took the copy back before they went out on the -next detail. Meanwhile, I had given them their -new directions, and, when they turned up, toward -ten and eleven at night, I had the whole batch of -writing to do again. It was a terrific pace for any -one man to keep up, and I doubt if anyone else in -San Francisco could have kept three busy and -turned out first-class work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This went on for fifteen days, during which time -I made Coffee John’s joint my headquarters. That -was the only place where I could hope to keep -sober, working at such high pressure, for I didn’t -dare trust myself in a saloon, and I couldn’t afford -to hire an office. The amount of black coffee I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_22'>22</span>consumed made me yellow for a year. Whether -Coffee John wondered what I was up to or not I -never knew; at any rate he asked no questions and -made no objections.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Great Bauer Syndicate went merrily, and -the members, with the exception of the president, -earned their salaries easily enough. If the job was -especially difficult or delicate, I went out and got -the story myself. At the end of the first week we -drew our pay and divided it according to the agreement, -but there were indications that my men thought -they were getting clever enough to handle the work -alone. If it hadn’t been that while I was waiting -for them to come in I managed to write several -columns of “space,” faked and otherwise, that they -could turn in and get paid for without any work at -all, I would have had trouble in holding them down -to their contracts. Except for this, the prospects -were bright for the prettiest little news syndicate -that ever fooled a city editor. We made a record -for two weeks, and then came the crash.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I had been as sober as a parson for fifteen long, -weary days, beating my record by twenty-four -hours. I had drenched myself in black coffee, and -turned out copy like a linotype machine, keyed up -<span class='pageno' id='Page_23'>23</span>to a tension so tight that something had to give -way. You can easily imagine what happened. -One Monday night, after the last batch of copy had -been delivered, and I had drawn down my second -week’s pay, I relapsed into barbarism and cast care -to the winds for the nonce.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I started down the line, headed for Pete Dunn’s -saloon at 1 <span class='sc'><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">A.M.</span></span>, with thirty dollars in my pocket, -and I found myself on Wednesday morning at the -Cliff House, with an unresponsive female, whom -I was imploring to call me “Sollie.” What had -happened to me in the interim I never cared to investigate. -But the Great Bauer Syndicate was out -of business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It seems that my three subordinates showed up -as usual on Tuesday afternoon, and after waiting for -me a while they attempted to cover their assignments -without my help. The insurance solicitor -got all twisted up, and never came back; the printer -threw up his job when he failed to find me on his -return. But the book-agent had grown a bit conceited -by this time, and he thought he was as good -as anybody in the business. So he sat down and -wrote out his story, and by what they say about it, -it must have been something rich enough to frame.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_24'>24</span>He had picked up a good many stock newspaper -phrases, like “repaired to the scene of the disaster,” -and “a catastrophe was imminent,” and “the last -sad offices were rendered,” and “a life hung in the -balance,” and such rot, and he had a literary ambition -that would have put the valedictorian of a female -seminary to the blush. He had an idea that my -work was crude and jerky, so he melted down a lot -of ineffable poetical bosh into paragraphs hot enough -to set the columns afire. As for the story, you -couldn’t find it for the adjectives. He may have -been a wonder at selling “The Life of U. S. Grant,” -but he couldn’t write English for publication in a -daily paper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he turned the stuff in, the city editor -gave a look at it, put about three swift questions to -him, and the cat was out of the bag. It took no -time at all to sweat the story out of him, and they -sent that book-agent downstairs so quickly that -he never came back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The whole office went roaring over the way I’d -done the paper, and the first thing I knew I was -sent for, and the managing editor told me that if I’d -take the Keeley cure for four months he’d give me -the Sunday editor’s place and forget the episode.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_25'>25</span>The time I put in at Los Gatos taking chloride of -gold was the darkness that preceded my financial -dawn. When I graduated I hated the smell of -whiskey so much that I couldn’t eat an ordinary -baker’s mince-pie. Six months after that I was -sent for by the New York <cite>Gazette</cite>, where I am -now drawing a salary that makes my life in San -Francisco seem insipid.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John folded the document carefully and -restored it to his pocket with consideration. “Thet’s -the wye ’e wrote it darn for me, an’ I’ve read it -every year since. Yer see, gents, Sol. Bauer ’avin’ -gort the idea I was, in a wye, the means of his restorashing -to respeckability, an’ by wye of memorisink -them three bums, ’as myde a practice o’ sendin’ me -a cheque an a small gift every year, with instrucshings -to celebryte the ’appy event by givin’ the best -dinner money can buy to the fust three blokes as -turns up here after 8.30 on the thirteenth dye of -October, an’ I sye it’s ’andsome of ’im. Nar, I -propose thet we all drink ’is very good ’ealth again, -after w’ich, them as is agreeable will tell ’is own -story for the mutual pleasure of the assembled company -’ere present.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_26'>26</span>The three men agreed, and filled their glasses -to the grateful memory of Solomon Bauer of the -Great Bauer Syndicate.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER II<br /> <span class='large'>JAMES WISWELL COFFIN 3D</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Nar, young man,” said Coffee John, pointing -the stem of his pipe at the lad in the -red sweater, “seein’ we’ve all agreed to -testify, s’pose yer perceed to open the ball. You -come in fust, an’ you talk fust. I ain’t no fly cop, -but it strikes me you’re a bit different from the rest -of us, though we’re all different enough, the Lord -knows. Yer jacket fits yer, an’ thet alone is enough -to myke yer conspicus in this ’ere shop. I see a -good many men parss in an’ art from be’ind the -carnter, but I don’t see none too many o’ the likes -o’ you. If I ain’t mistook, you’ll be by wye o’ -bein’ wot I might call a amatoor at this ’ere sort o’ -livin’, an’ one as would find a joke w’erever ’e -went. You’d larff at a bloomin’ corpse, you would, -and flirt with Queen Victoria. You’ll never grow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_27'>27</span>up, young fellar; I give yer thet stryte, before yer -even open yer marth.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“But wot I cawn’t figger art,” he continued, “is -w’y yer jumped at the sight of a bunch o’ ord’n’ry -yeller bananas. I’ve seen ’em eat with their bloomin’ -knives, an’ comb their w’iskers with their bloomin’ -forks, but this ’ere is a new one on me, an’ it -gets my gyme. I’m nar ready to listen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Even so!” said the youth. “Then I shall -now proceed to let the procession of thought -wriggle, the band play, and the bug hop. The -suspense, I know, is something terrible, so I spare -your anxiety.” And with this fanfare he began to -relate</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE HARVARD FRESHMAN</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>When I received a cordial invitation -from the Dean to leave Harvard the -second time—on that occasion it was for -setting off ten alarm-clocks at two-minute intervals -in chapel—the governor flew off the handle. My -fool kid brother, that was to side-track the letter -from the faculty, got mixed on his signals, and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_28'>28</span>telegram that the old man sent back nearly put the -Cambridge office out of business. He said that I had -foozled my last drive, and, although a good cane is -sometimes made out of a crooked stick, he washed -his hands of me, and would I please take notice -that the remittances were herewith discontinued.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I noticed. After I’d settled up and given my -farewell dinner to the Institute, where they were -sorry to lose me because I was playing a cyclone -game on the Freshman Eleven, I had ninety-eight -dollars, and twelve hours to leave the college yard. -Thinking it over, it struck me that the keenest way -for me to get my money’s worth was to go out and -take a sub-graduate course as a hobo—do the -Wyckoff act, minus the worker and the prayer-meetings. -I wasn’t going to beg my meals—there -was where the pride of the Coffins stuck out—but -I was willing to stand for the rest—dust, rust, and -cinders. As a dead-head tourist, ninety-eight bones -would feed me and sleep me for quite a space. I -swung on at South Boston for my first lesson in -brake-beams, and, tumbled off mighty sick at Worcester.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It’s a long tale, with hungry intervals, until I -found myself in the pound, at Peru, Illinois, for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_29'>29</span>smashing a fresh brakeman and running up against -the constabulary. The police judge of that hustling -little Western centre is paid out of the fines that -he collects. It is a strange coincidence that when -I was searched I had forty-seven, twenty, on my -person, and my fine for vagrancy and assault came -to forty dollars, with seven-twenty costs. The -judge was a hard-shell deacon.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next week, after I crawled out of the underground -Pullman, at Louisville, I was watching Senator -Burke’s racing stables come in, and I was -hungry enough to digest a sand-car. It being work -or beg, I says, “Here’s where I break the ethics -of my chosen profession and strike for a job.” -There was nothing doing until one of the hands mentioned, -for a joke, that a waiter was wanted for the -dining-room where the nigger jockeys ate. “It is -only a matter of sentiment,” said I to myself, “and -my Massachusetts ancestors fit and bled and died to -make freedmen out of the sons of Ham. Here -goes for a feed.” I took the place, collecting a -breakfast in advance, and threw chow for three -meals at coloured gentlemen who buried it with -their knives. “If I am the prodigal son,” says I to -myself, “these are the swine, all right.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_30'>30</span>There was a black exercise-boy in the bunch who -played the prize Berkshire hog. He was rather -big for a man about the stables. Superstition held -that he could lick everything of his weight on earth, -and he acted as though he was a front-page feature -in the <cite>Police Gazette</cite>. During the fourth meal he -got gay over my frank, untrammelled way of passing -soup. By way of repartee, I dropped the tray, -tucked up my apron, and cleared for action.</p> - -<p class='c000'>First, I wiped off one end of the table with him, -the way the hired girl handles crumbs. Then I -hauled him out into the light of day, so as not to -muss the dining-room, and stood him up against the -pump, and gave him the Countercheck Quarrelsome. -He was long on life and muscle, but short on science, -and he swung miles wide. After I’d ducked -and countered two attempts, he dropped his head -all of a sudden. I saw what was coming. I got -out of range and let him butt, and when he came into -my zone of fire I gave him the knee good and proper. -His face faded into a gaudy ruin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The superintendent came down to restore order, -and saw how merrily I jousted. He was a bit -strict, but he was a true Peruvian in some ways, -and he loved a scrapper. That night I got a hurry -<span class='pageno' id='Page_31'>31</span>call to the office, and walked away James Wiswell -Coffin 3d, anointed assistant rubber. After the -season was over at Louisville, we pulled up stakes -and hiked on to Chicago, following the circuit. -When we moved I was raised to night-watchman—forty -and found. Nothing happened until close to -the end of the season at Chicago, except that I ate -regularly. Money was easy in that part. Whenever -I picked up any of it I looked around for good -things in the betting. Without springing myself -any, I cleaned up a little now and then, and when -the big chance came I was $200 to the good.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This is the way that Fate laid herself open, so -that I could get in one short-armed jab ere she -countered hard. It was the night before a big -race, really more important to us than the Derby. -Everyone around the stables was bughouse with it. -Before I went out on watch, the superintendent—his -name was Tatum, please remember that—lined -me up and told me that he’d have me garrotted, -electrocuted, and crucified if there was a hair so -much as crossed on either of our entries. We had -two of them, Maduro and Maltese. The pair sold -at six to five. Outside and in, it looked as though -the old man hadn’t had a cup nailed so hard for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_32'>32</span>years. The trainers were sleeping beside the ponies, -but I was supposed to look in every half hour to -see how things were coming on. At midnight -Tatum came round and repeated his remarks, -which riled me a bit, and Maduro’s trainer said -he would turn in for a little sleep.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next call, for Heaven knows what nutty reason, -I got back to Maduro’s stall a quarter ahead -of the hour. There was about a teaspoonful of -light coming through the cracks. I got an eye to a -knot-hole, and saw things happening. There was -Maduro trussed like a rib-roast, and trying to jump, -and there was the trainer—“Honest Bob” they -used to call him—poking a lead-pencil up her nose. -He said a swear word and began to feel around in -the mare’s nostril, and pulled out a sponge. He -squeezed it up tight and stuffed it back, and began -to poke again. That was the cue for my grand -entry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good-morning,” I said through the hole; -“you’re sleeping bully.” I was cutting and sarcastic, -because I knew what was up. The sponge-game—stuff -it up a horse’s nose, and he can walk -and get around the same as ever, but when he tries -to run, he’s a grampus.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_33'>33</span>He was too paralysed even to chuck the pencil. -He stood there with his hands down and his mouth -open.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, hello,” he said, when his wind blew back. -“I was just doctoring the mare to make her sleep.” -All this time I’d been opening the latch of the door, -and I slid into the corner.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, sure,” said I, displaying my gun so that it -would be conspicuous, but not obtrusive. “I suppose -you’d like to have me send for Mr. Tatum. -He’d like to hold her little hoof and bend above -her dreams,” says I.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, there’s no necessity for bothering him,” -said “Honest Bob,” in a kind of conciliatory way, -and edging nearer to me all the time. I might -have been caught if I hadn’t noticed that his right -hand was lifted just a bit with the two first fingers -spread. I learned that game with the alphabet. -You slide in on your man, telling him all the time -that he is your lootsy-toots, until you get your right -in close, and then you shoot that fork into both his -lamps. He can neither see nor shoot nor hit until -his eyes clear out, which gives you time to do him -properly. “Honest Bob” was taking a long -chance.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_34'>34</span>I guarded my eyes and shoved the gun in his -face. I felt like Old Nick Carter.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How much do you want?” said he, all of a -sudden.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The honour of the Coffins never stoops to -bribery,” said I; “but if you’ll tell me what’s going -to win to-morrow, I’ll talk business. If the tip’s -straight, I forget all about this job.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Early Rose,” he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The devil you say!” said I. Early Rose was -selling at twenty-five to one. I gave it to him -oblique and perpendicular that if his tip was -crooked I would peach and put him out of business -for life. He swore that he was in the know. -For the rest of that night I omitted Maduro’s stall -and did some long-distance thinking.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I could see only one way out of it. Maduro -loses sure, thinks I, and whether it’s to be Early -Rose or not, there’s an investigation coming that involves -little Jimmy 3d. What’s the matter with -winning a pot of money and then disappearing in a -self-sacrificing spirit, so that “Honest Bob” can -lay it all to me? I was sick of the job, anyway.</p> - -<p class='c000'>What happened next day has passed into the -history of the turf, but the thing that wasn’t put -<span class='pageno' id='Page_35'>35</span>into the papers was the fact that I was in on Early -Rose with one hundred and ninety plunks at -twenty-five to one. He staggered home at the -head of a groggy bunch that wilted at the three-quarters. -I sloped for the ring and drew down -$4,940. Just what happened, and whether the -nags were all doped or not, I don’t know to this -day, but there must be more in this horse-racing -business than doth appear to the casual débutante.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Two minutes after I left the bookies I was -headed for the overland train. Just as we pulled -out, I looked back, proud like a lion, for a last gloat -at Chicago. There, on the platform, was that man -Tatum, with a gang from the stables, acting as -though he were looking for someone. In the front -of the mob, shaking his fist and doing the virtuous in -a manner that shocked and wounded, was “Honest -Bob.” I took the tip, dropped off two stations -down the line, doubled back on a local to a child’s -size Illinois town, and rusticated there three days.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I’d had time to think, and this was the way it -looked: Where the broad Pacific blends with the -land of freedom and railway <span lang="la" xml:lang="la">prospecti</span>, the Mistress -of the Pacific dreams among her hills. Beneath -her shades lie two universities with building -<span class='pageno' id='Page_36'>36</span>plans and endowments. It occurred to me that I’d -better make two packages of my money. One of -nine hundred was to get me out to San Francisco -and show me the town in a manner befitting my -birth and station. The other was to transport me -like a dream through one of the aforesaid universities -on a thousand a year, showing the co-eds what -football was like. With my diplomas and press -notices tucked under my arm, I would then report -at the residence of James Wiswell Coffin 2d, at -South Framingham, and receive a father’s blessing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the time I’d landed at this Midway Plaisance -and bought a few rags, the small package -looked something like four hundred dollars. It was -at this stage of the game that I met the woman -starring as the villainess in this weird tale. We -went out to the Emeryville track together. All of -my four hundred that I didn’t pay for incidentals -I lost the first day out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But that makes no never mind, says I to myself; -it’s easy to go through a California university on -seven-fifty per, and besides, a college course ought -to be three years instead of four. So I dipped into -the big pile. Let us drop the quick curtain. When -it rises I am centre stage in the Palace Hotel, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_37'>37</span>ninety-dollar overcoats and pin-checked cutaways -to right and left, katzenjammer R. U. E., a week’s -board-bill hovering in the flies above me—and -strapped. I gets up, puts my dress-suit into its -case, tucks in a sweater and a bunch of ties, tells -the clerk that I am going away for a day or so, and -will leave my baggage until I can come back and -settle, and walks into the cold, wet world.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The dress-suit brought eight dollars. That fed -me and slept me in a little room on Third Street for -a week. After dragging the ties through every -pawn-shop from Tar Flat to the Iron Works, I got -a dollar for them. They cost twenty. Next was -the suit-case—two and a half. The third day -after that I had dropped the last cent, and was -leaving my lodgings two jumps ahead of the landlord, -a great coarse Swede.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I hadn’t a thing but the clothes on my back. In -a vacant basement of a house on Folsom Street -I found a front step invisible to the naked eye of the -cop on the beat. There I took lodgings. I got -two meals by trading my trousers for a cheaper -pair and twenty cents to boot from the Yiddish -man in the shop above. When that was gone I -roamed this grand old city for four days and three -<span class='pageno' id='Page_38'>38</span>nights, and never did such a vulgar thing as eat. -That’s no Child’s Dream of a Star.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The fourth day was a study in starvation. -Dead serious, joshing aside, that was about as -happy a time as I ever put in. I forgot that I was -hungry, and up against the real thing. I saw myself -like some other guy that I had a line on, chasing -about ’Frisco in that fix. I myself was warm -and comfortable, and having a dreamy sort of a -time wandering about.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was strolling down Kearney Street, listening to -the birds singing through the haze, when something -that wore scrambled whiskers and an ash-barrel -hat advised me to go down to Broadway wharf -and take a chance with the fruit bums. He steered -me the proper course, and I smoked the pipe along -Broadway. There was the wharf all right, and -there was a whole cargo of bananas being lifted on -a derrick and let down. Once in a while one -would drop. The crowd underneath would make -a jump and fight for it. I stood there wondering -if I really wanted any bananas, or if it was worth -while to eat, seeing that I’d have to do it again, and -was now pretty well broken of the habit, when a -big, scaly bunch got loose from the stem and began -<span class='pageno' id='Page_39'>39</span>to shake and shiver. I got under it and made a fair -catch, and went through the centre with it the -way I used to go through the Yale Freshmen line. -There were seventeen bananas, and I ate them all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next thing, I began to feel thirsty. So I -marched up to that Coggswell joke on Ben Franklin, -somewhere in the dance-hall district, and -foundered myself with water. After that I crawled -into a packing-box back of a wood-yard, and for -two days I was as sick as Ham, Shem, and Japhet -the second day out on the Ark.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I got better I was hungry again. It was -bananas or nothing. I found them carting off the -cargo, and managed to pick up quite a load in one -way or another. After dark I took up two piles -and salted them down back of my packing-box. -Next day, pretty weak yet, I stayed at home and -ate bananas. When the new moon shone like a -ripe banana-peel in the heavens of the next night, I -never wanted to see a banana as long as I lived. -Nathless, me lieges, they were all that I had. After -breakfast next morning, I shook my clothes out, hid -the sweater, and put on my collar to go downtown. -On the way I couldn’t look at the bananas -on the fruit-stands. At the end of the line I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_40'>40</span>bumped into a big yellow building with arches on -its front and a sign out:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Football players please see Secretary.” I -looked and saw that it was the Y. M. C. A. -“Aha,” says I, “maybe I dine.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I sang a good spiel to the Secretary. They were -getting up a light-weight team and wanted talent. -Thanking the gods that I was an end instead of a -centre, I spun him some dream about the Harlem -Y. M. C. A. He said report that afternoon. I -went back, choked down ten bananas for strength, -and got out on the field in a borrowed suit. They -lined up for only five minutes, but that was time -enough for me to show what I could do.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I waited after the game to hear someone say -training-table, and no one peeped. I stood around, -making myself agreeable, and they said come around -to the Wednesday socials, but no one asked me -to say grace at his humble board. By the time I -had washed up and got back home to the packing-box, -I was the owner of such a fifty-horse-power -hunger that I simply <em>had</em> to eat more bananas. I -swore then and there that it was my finish. Why, -the taste of them was so strong that my tongue felt -like a banana-peel!</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_41'>41</span>After dinner I piked back to the Y. M. C. A., -seeing that it was my only opening, and began to -study the <cite>Christian Advocate</cite> in the reading-room. -And the first thing that I saw was a tailor-made -that looked as though it had been ironed on her, -and a pair of coffee-coloured eyes as big as doughnuts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As I rubbered at her over the paper I saw her -try to open one of the cases where they kept the -silver cups. That was my cue. It wasn’t two -minutes before I was showing her around like a -director. I taught her some new facts about the -Y. M. C. A., all right, all right. She was a <cite>Tribune</cite> -woman doing a write-up, and she caught my -game proper. We’d got to the gym, and I was -giving the place all the world’s indoor athletic records, -when she turned those lamps on me and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You don’t belong here.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t?” says I. “Don’t I strike you for as -good a little Y. M. C. A.’ser as there is in the -business?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She looked me over as though she were wondering -if I was somebody’s darling, and said in a serious -way:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My mother and I have supper at home. My -<span class='pageno' id='Page_42'>42</span>brother’s just come on from the East, and I’d like -to have you meet him. Could you join us this -evening?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Realising the transparency of that excuse for a -lady-like poke-out, I tried to get haughty and plead -a previous engagement, but the taste of bananas rose -up in my mouth and made me half-witted. When -we parted she had me dated and doddering over -the prospects. Then I raised my hand to my chin -and felt the stubble. “A shave is next in order,” -says I. So I stood at the door and scanned the -horizon. Along comes the football captain. If he -was in the habit of shaving himself, I gambled that -I would dine with a clean face. I made myself as -pleasant as possible. Pretty soon he began to -shift feet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Going down the street?” said I. “Well, I’ll -walk along.” We got to his lodgings. “Going in?” -said I. “Well, I’d like to see your quarters,” and -I walked in. “Pretty rooms. That’s a nice safety -razor you have there. How do you strop it?” -He showed me, kind of wondering, and I said, -“How’s your shaving-soap?” He brought it. -“Looks good,” said I, heading for the washstand. -I jerked in a jet of cold water, mixed it up, lathered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_43'>43</span>my face, and began to shave, handing out chin-music -all the time about Social Settlement work. -He said never a word. It was a case of complete -paralysis. When I had finished I begged to be excused. -He hadn’t even the strength to see me to -the door.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Oh, the joy of walking to Jones Street, realising -with every step that I was going to have something -to take the taste of bananas out of my mouth! I -got to playing wish with myself. I had just decided -on a tenderloin rare-to-medium, and Bass ale, when -I bumped on her house and the cordial welcome. -It was one of those little box flats where the dining-room -opens by a folding-door off the living-room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Can you wait here just a minute?” said the -girl with the doughnut orbs, “I want you to meet -my brother.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was gone longer than I expected. She was -a thoroughbred to leave such a hobo as me alone -with the silver. It got so that I just had to look at -the scene of the festivities. It was here, all right, -a genuine Flemish quarter-sawed oak dining-table, -all set, and me going to have my first square meal -for ten days. About that time I heard two voices -in the back of the house. One was the girl’s; the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_44'>44</span>other was a baritone that sounded mighty familiar. -I explored farther, and the next clew was a photograph -on the mantel that lifted my hair out of its -socket.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was signed “Your loving brother, John,” and -it was the picture of John Tatum, the manager of -Burke’s stables!</p> - -<p class='c000'>I saw my dinner dwindling in the distance. I -saw myself breakfasting on bananas, and says I, -“Not on your hard luck.” I wouldn’t swipe the -silver, but, by all the gods of hunger, if there was a -scrap to eat in that dining-room I was going to have -it. I ran through the sideboard; nothing but salt, -pepper, vinegar, and mustard. China closet; nothing -but dishes. There was only one more place in -the whole room where grub could be kept. That -was a sort of ticket-window arrangement in the far -corner. Footsteps coming; “Last chance,” says I, -and breaks for it like a shot. I grabbed the handle -and tore it open.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And there was a large, fine plate of rich, golden, -mealy bananas!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_45'>45</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER III<br /> <span class='large'>PROFESSOR VANGO</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Yer was mixed up in a narsty piece o’ business,” -said Coffee John, after the Freshman -had concluded his tale, “an’ it strikes -me as yer gort wot yer bloomin’ well desarved. -I don’t rightly know w’ether yer expect us to larff -or to cry, but I’m inclined to fyver a grin w’erever -possible, as ’elpin’ the appetite an’ thereby bringin’ -in tryde. So I move we accept the kid’s apology -for bein’ farnd in me shop, an’ perceed with the -festivities o’ the evenink. I see our friend ’ere with -the long finger-nails is itchin’ to enliven the debyte, -an’ I’m afryde if we don’t let ’im ’ave ’is sye art, -’e’ll bloomin’ well bust with it.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked the thin, black-eyed stranger over -calmly and judicially. “You’ll be one as lives by -’is wits, an’ yet more from the lack of ’em in other -people, especially femyles,” the proprietor declared. -“Yer one o’ ten tharsand in this tarn as picks up -easy money, if so be they’s no questions arsked. -But if I ain’t mistook, yer’ve come a cropper, an’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_46'>46</span>yer ain’t much used to sweatin’ for yer salary. But -that don’t explyne w’y yer ’ad to tumble into this -plyce like the devil was drivin’ yer, an’ put darn a -swig o’ ’ot coffee to drarn yer conscience, like. Clay -Street wa’n’t afire, nor yet in no dynger o’ bein’ -flooded, so I’m switched if I twig yer gyme!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, I <em>have</em> got a conscience,” began the stranger, -“though I’m no worse than many what make -simulations to be better, and I never give nobody -nothin’ they didn’t want, and wasn’t willin’ to pay -for, and why shouldn’t I get it as well as any other -party? Seein’ you don’t know any of the parties, -and with the understandin’ that all I say is in confidence -between friends, professional like, I’ll tell -you the misfortunes that have overcame me.” So -he began</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE EX-MEDIUM</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I am Professor Vango, trance, test, business, -materialisin’, sympathetic, harmonic, inspirational, -and developin’ medium, and independent -slate-writer. Before I withdrew from the -profession, them as I had comforted and reunited -said that I was by far the best in existence. My -<span class='pageno' id='Page_47'>47</span>tests was of the sort that gives satisfaction and convinces -even the most sceptical. My front parlor was -thronged every Sunday and Tuesday evenin’ with -ladies, the most genteel and elegant, and gentlemen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I really learned my powers, I was a palm -and card reader. Madame August, the psychic -card-reader and Reno Seeress, give me the advice -that put me in communication. She done it after -a joint readin’ we give for the benefit of the Astral -Seers’ Protective Union.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Vango,” she says—I was usin’ the name -“Vango” already; it struck me as real tasty—“Vango,” -she says, “you’re wastin’ your talents. -These is the days when men speak by inspiration. -You got genius; but you ain’t no palmist.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why ain’t I?” I says, knowin’ all the time that -they was somethin’ wrong; “don’t I talk as good as -any?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re a genius,” says she, “and you lead -where others follow; your idea of tellin’ every -woman that she can write stories if she tries is one -of the best ever conceived, but if you don’t mind -me sayin’ it, as one professional to another, it’s your -face that’s wrong.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My face?” says I.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_48'>48</span>“Your face and your hands and your shape and -the balance of your physicality,” says she. “They -want big eyes—brown is best, but blue will do—and -lots of looks and easy love-makin’ ways that -you can hang a past to, and I’m frank to say that -you ain’t got ’em. You <em>have</em> got platform talents, -and you’ll be a phenomena where you can’t get -near enough to ’em to hold hands. Test seances -is the future of this business. Take a few developin’ -sittin’s and you’ll see.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For the time, disappointment and chagrin overcome -me. Often and often since, I have said that -sorrow is a means of development for a party. -That’s where I learnt it. Next year I was holdin’ -test seances in my own room and makin’ spirit photographs -with my pardner for ample renumeration. -Of course, I made my mistakes, but I can assert without -fear of successful contradiction that I brought -true communication as often as any of ’em.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once I sized up a woman that wore black before -I had asked the usual questions—which is a -risky thing to do, and no medium that values a -reputation will attempt it—and told her about her -husband that had passed out and give a message, -and she led me on and wrote me up for them very -<span class='pageno' id='Page_49'>49</span>papers that I was advertisin’ in and almost ruined -my prospecks. You get such scoffers all the time, -only later on you learn to look out and give ’em rebukes -from the spirits. It ain’t no use tryin’ to get -ahead of us, as I used to tell the people at my -seances that thought I was a collusion, because -they’ve only got theirselves; but we’ve got ourselves -and the spirits besides.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It wasn’t long in the course of eventualities before -I was ordained by the Spirit Psychic Truth -Society, and elected secretary of the union, and gettin’ -my percentages from test and trance meetin’s at -Pythian Hall. I was popular with the professionals, -which pays, because mediums as a class is a little -nervous, and—not to speak slanderous of a profession -that contains some of the most gifted scientists—a -set of knockers.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Only I wasn’t satisfied. I was ambitious in -them days, and I wanted to make my debut in -materialisin’, which takes a hall of your own and a -apparatus and a special circle for the front row, -but pays heavy on the investment. Try every way -I could, with developin’ circles and private readin’s -and palms extra, I could never amass the funds for -one first-class spirit and a cabinet, which ought to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_50'>50</span>be enough to start on. Then one night—it was a -grand psychic reunion and reception to our visitin’ -brothers from Portland—<em>She</em> come to the circle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Our publication—I united with my other functionaries -that of assistant editor of <cite>Unseen Hands</cite>—stigmatised -it afterward as the grandest demonstration -of hidden forces ever seen on this hemisphere. -It was the climax to my career. I was communicatin’ -beautiful, and fortune favoured my endeavours. -When I pumped ’em, they let me see -that which they had concealed, and when I guessed -I guessed with amazin’ accuracy. I told a Swede -all about his sweetheart on the other plane, and the -colour of her hair, and how happy she was, and -how it was comin’ out all right, and hazarded that -her name was Tina, and guessed right the first -trial. I recollect I was tellin’ him he was a physie, -and didn’t he sometimes feel a influence he couldn’t -account for, and hadn’t he ever tried to establish -communication with them on the spirit plane, and -all he needed was a few developin’ sittin’s—doin’ -it neat an’ professional, you know, and all of the -other mediums on the platform acquiescin’—when -a woman spoke up from the back of the room. -That was the first time that ever I seen her.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_51'>51</span>She was a middle-sized, fairish sort of a woman, -in mournin’, which I hadn’t comprehended, or I’d -’a’ found the article that she sent up for me to test -her influence, long before. As soon as she spoke, -I knew she’d come to be comforted. She was a -tidy sort of a woman, and her eyes was dark, sort -of between a brown and a black. Her shape was -nice and neat, and she had a straightish sort of a -nose, with a curve into it. She was dead easy. I -seen that she had rings on her fingers and was -dressed real tasty, and right there it come to me, -just like my control sent it, that a way was openin’ -for me to get my cabinet and a stock of spirits.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Will you please read my article?” she says. -Bein’ against the æsthetics of the profession to -let a party guide you like that, Mrs. Schreiber, -the Egyptian astral medium, was for rebukin’ -her. I superposed, because I seen my cabinet -growin’.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I was strongly drawed to the token in question,” -I says, and then Mrs. Schreiber, who was there to -watch who sent up what, motioned me to a locket -on the table.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“When I come into the room, I seen this party -with a sweet influence hoverin’ over her. Ain’t it -<span class='pageno' id='Page_52'>52</span>a little child?” Because by that time I had her -sized up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I seen her eyes jump the way they always do -when you’re guided right, and I knowed I’d touched -the achin’ spot. While I was tellin’ her about my -control and the beautiful light that was hoverin’ -over her, I palmed and opened the locket. I got -the picture out—they’re all alike, them lockets—and -behind it was a curl of gold hair and the name -“Lillian.” I got the locket back on the table, and -the spirits guided me to it for her test. When I -told her that the spirit callin’ for her was happy in -that brighter sphere and sent her a kiss, and had -golden hair, and was called “Lillian” in the flesh -plane, she was more overcame than I ever seen a -party at a seance. I told her she was a medium. -I could tell it by the beautiful dreams she had sometimes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Right here, Mrs. Schreiber shook her head, indicatin’ -that I was travellin’ in a dangerous direction. -Developin’ sittin’s is saved for parties when you -can’t approach ’em on the departed dear ones. In -cases like the one under consideration, the most -logical course, you comprehend, is to give private -test sittin’s. But I knowed what I was doin’. I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_53'>53</span>told her I could feel a marvellous power radiate -from her, and her beautiful dreams was convincin’ -proof. She expressed a partiality to be developed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I got her alone in the sittin’, holdin’ her -hand and gettin’ her to concentrate on my eyes, she -made manifest her inmost thoughts. She was a -widow runnin’ a lodgin’-house. Makin’ a inference -from her remarks, I seen that she hadn’t no money -laid by, but only what she earned from her boarders. -The instalment plan was better than nothin’. -She seized on the idea that I could bring Lillian -back if I had proper conditions to work with. In -four busy weeks, I was enabled by her magnanimity -to open a materialisin’ circle of my own, with a -cabinet and a self-playin’ guitar and four good -spirit forms. I procured the cabinet second-hand, -which was better, because the joints worked easier, -and I sent for the spirits all the way to a Chicago -dealer to get the best. They had luminous forms -and non-duplicated faces, that convinced even the -most sceptical. The firm very liberally throwed -in a slate trick for dark cabinets and the Fox Sisters’ -rappin’ table.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I took one of them luminous forms, the littlest one, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_54'>54</span>and fixed it with golden curls painted phosphorescent. -Mrs. Schreiber and the rest, all glad to be -partakers in my good fortune, was hired to come -on the front seats and join hands with each other -across the aisle whenever one of the spirits materialised -too far forward toward the audience. We -advertised heavy, and the followin’ Sunday evenin’ -had the gratification to greet a numerous and -cultured assemblage. I was proud and happy, -because steppin’ from plain test control to materialisin’ -is a great rise for any medium.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Higgins—that was her name, Mrs. Clarissa -Higgins—come early all alone. I might ’a’ brought -Lillian right away, only that would be inelegant. -First we sang, “Show Your Faces,” to get the proper -psychie current of mutuality. Etherealisin’ and a -few tunes on a floatin’ guitar was next. When my -control reassured itself, I knowed that the time had -came, and let out the first spirit. A member of -the Spirit Truth Society on the front seat recognised -it for a dear one, and carried on real realistic -and natural. I let it vanish. The next one was -Little Hookah, the spirit of the Egyptian dancer, -that used to regale the Pharaohs in the depths of -the Ghizeh pyramid. I touched off a music-box -<span class='pageno' id='Page_55'>55</span>to accompany her for a skirt-dance with her robes. -I done that all myself; it was a little invention of -my own, and was recognised with universal approbation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was the time for Lillian to manifest herself, -and I done it artistic. First she rapped and -conversed with me in the spirit whisper back of -the curtains. You could hear Mrs. Higgins in the -audience drawin’ in her breath sort of awesome.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I says for the spirit, in a little pipin’ voice, “Tell -mamma not to mourn, because her lamentations -hinders my materialisation. The birds is singin’, -and it is, oh, so beautiful on this shore.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then commandin’ the believers on the front seats -to join hands in a circle of mutuality, in order to -assist the sister on the other shore to put on the -astral symbols of the flesh, I materialised her nice -and easy and gradual.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We was prepared for demonstrations on the part -of Mrs. Higgins, so when she advanced I began to -let it vanish, and the psychie circle of clasped hands -stopped her while I done the job up good and complete. -She lost conscientiousness on the shoulder -of Mrs. Schreiber.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Not borin’ you, gentlemen, with the details of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_56'>56</span>my career, my business and religious relations with -Mrs. Higgins was the beginnin’ of my success. -Myself and the little circle of believers—that -guarded the front seats from the protrusions of -sceptical parties that come to scoff, and not infrequent -come up as earnest inquirers after my control -had passed—we lived easy on the proceeds.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Mrs. Higgins would bring tears to your eyes, she -was that grateful. She repaired the place for me -so it was the envy of the unsuccessful in the profession. -She had it fixed with stucco like a grotto, -and wax calla lilies and mottoes and beautiful spirit -paintin’s (Mrs. Schreiber done them out of the air -while she was under control—a hundred dollars -apiece she charged), and nice curtains over the -cabinet, embroidered in snakes’ eyes inside of triangles -and discobuluses. Mrs. Higgins capitalised -the expense. Whenever we done poor business, -we originated some new manifestations for Mrs. -Higgins. She received ample renumeration. She -seen Lillian every Tuesday and Sunday. Very -semi-occasionally, when the planetary conditions -favoured complete manifestation, I used to let her -hug Lillian and talk to her. That was a tremendous -strain, involvin’ the use of ice to produce the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_57'>57</span>proper degree of grave cold, and my blood nearly -conglomerated whenever circumstances rendered it -advisable.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All human relationships draws to a close in time. -After seven years of the most ideal communications -between myself and Mrs. Higgins and the -rest of the Psychic Truth Society, they came a -time one evenin’ when I seen she was missin’. Next -day, we received a message that she was undisposed. -We sent Madam La Farge, the medical -clairvoyant, to give her treatment, and word come -back that them designin’ relatives, that always haunt -the last hours of the passin’ spirit with mercenary -entreaties, had complete domination over her person. -I visited to console her myself, and was rebuked -with insinuations that was a insult to my -callin’. The next day we learned that she had -passed out. We was not even admitted to participate -in the funeral obsequies.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first Sunday that she was in the spirit Mrs. -Schreiber was all for materialisin’ her. I favoured -omittin’ her, thinkin’ it would be more fittin’, you -understand, and more genteel. But we had some -very wealthy sceptics in the circle we was tryin’ to -convince, and Mrs. Schreiber said they’d expect it. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_58'>58</span>Against my better counsels, seein’ that Mrs. Higgins -was a mighty fine woman and give me my -start, and I got a partiality for her, I took down my -best spirit form and broadened it some, because -Mrs. Higgins had got fleshy before she passed out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After Little Hookah done her regular dance -that Sunday night, I got the hymn started, and -announcin’ that the spirit that rapped was a dear -one known to ’em all, I pulled out the new form -that I had just fixed, and waited for the tap on the -cabinet to show that all was ready. I didn’t like to -do it. I felt funny, like something would go wrong. -But I pulled the string, and then—O God!—there—in -the other corner of the cabinet—was Mrs. -Higgins—Mrs. Higgins holdin’ her arm across the -curtains and just lookin’ at me like her eyes was -tearin’ through me!</p> - -<p class='c000'>They seen somethin’ was wrong, and Mrs. -Schreiber got the robe away before they found me—they -said my control was too strong—and some -said I was drunk. I did get drunk, too, crazy -drunk, next day—and when I come round Mrs. -Schreiber tried to do cabinet work with me on the -front seat—and there I seen <em>her</em>—in her corner—just -like she used to sit—and I never went back.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_59'>59</span>But a man has got to eat, and when my money -was gone, and I wasn’t so scared as I was at first, -I tried to do test seances, sayin’ to myself maybe she -wouldn’t mind that—and the first article I took up, -there she was in the second row, holdin’—oh, -I couldn’t get away of it—holdin’ a locket just like -she done the first night I seen her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then I knew I’d have to quit, and I hid from the -circle—they wanted me because Mrs. Schreiber -couldn’t make it go. I slept in the Salvation -Army shelter, so as not to be alone, and she let me -be for a while.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But to-day I seen a party in the street that I -used to give tests to, and he said he’d give me two -bits to tell him about his mine—and I was so broke -and hungry, I give it a trial and—there <em>She</em> was—in -the shadow by the bootblack awnin’—just -lookin’ and lookin’!</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>The little medium broke off with a tremor that -made the glasses shake.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_60'>60</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IV<br /> <span class='large'>ADMEH DRAKE</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“I expeck yer cut off yer own nose, all right,” -said Coffee John. “If the sperits of the dead -do return, an’ I was to come along with ’em, it -seems to me I’d plye Mrs. ’Iggin’s gyme, an’ run -abart a million o’ shyster ghost-raisers art o’ business -in this city. I see their notices in the dyly -pypers, an’ it feerly mykes a man sick. The more -you show ’em up, the more the people come to be -gulled. ’Uman nychur is certingly rum. Lord -love yer, I’ve been to ’em, an’ I’ve been told my -nyme was Peter, wa’nt it? an’ if not Peter, Hennery; -an’ didn’t I ’ave a gryte-gran’father wot -died? So I did, an’ I’m jolly glad ’e ain’t lived to -be a hundred an’ forty neither! W’y is it thet the -sperit of a decent Gawd-fearink woman wants to -get familiar with a bloke wot wipes ’is nose on ’is -arm-sleeve an’ chews terbacker? It’s agin reason -an’ nature, an’ I don’t go a cent on it. It’s -enough to myke a man commit murder coupled -with improper lengwidge!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_61'>61</span>He turned to the third man, who had made no -comments on the stories. “You’re one as ’as loved -an’ lost,” he said. “Yer look like one as is a lion -with men an’ a bloomin’ mouse with women. You -don’t cyre w’ether school keeps or not, you don’t, -an’ I’m wonderin’ why. I don’t just like yer turnin’ -yer back on Dewey, though plenty o’ Spanishers -’ave felt the syme wye. Yer gort a fist as -could grip a gun-stock, an’ an eye wot ain’t afryde -to look a man in the fyce, if yer do keep ’em behind -specs. If yer can give a good reason for -turnin’ Dewey to the wall, nar’s the charnce!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man with glasses had not winced at the -plain language, nor apologised as the medium had -done. He looked up and said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right, pardner, if you’ll stand for it, I’ll tell -you the truth, right out.” And with this he began</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE HERO OF PAGO BRIDGE</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>My name is Admeh Drake. Mine ain’t a -story-book yarn like yours, pardner, or a -tale of spooks and phantoms, like yours. -You can get away from ghosts when there’s other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_62'>62</span>people around or it’s daylight, but there’s some -things that you can’t get away from in a thousand -years, daylight or dark.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A fellow that I knew from the PL outfit loaned -me a story-book once by “The Duchess,” that said -something like this, only in story-book language:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A woman is the start and finish of all our -troubles.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I always remembered that. It was a right nice -idea. Many and many’s the time that, thinking -over my troubles and what brought me to this elegant -feed—say, I could drink a washtub full of that -new-fangled coffee—I’ve remembered those sentiments. -Susie Latham, that is the finest lady in the -White River country, she was the start and finish -of my troubles.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Ever since we were both old enough to chew -hay, Susie and I travelled as a team. The first -time that ever I shone in society, I did it with -Susie by my side. It was right good of her to go -with me, seeing that I was only bound-boy to old -man Mullins, who brought me up and educated me, -and Susie’s father kept a store. But then we were -too little to care about such things, me being eleven -and Susie nine. It was the mum social of the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_63'>63</span>First Baptist Church that I took her to. You -know the sort? When the boss Sunday-school -man gives the signal, you clap the stopper on your -jaw-tackle and get fined a cent a word if you peep. -Susie knew well enough that I had only five cents -left after I got in, so what does she do but go out -and sit on the porch while the talk is turned off, so -that she wouldn’t put me in the hole. When they -passed the grab-bag, I blew in the nickel. I got a -kid brass ring with a red glass front and gave it to -her. I said that it was for us to get married when -we grew up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why, Admeh Drake, I like your gall,” she -said, but she took it just the same. After that, -Susie was my best girl, and I was her beau. I -licked every fellow that said she wasn’t pretty, and -she stuck out her tongue to every girl that tried to -joke me because I was old Mullins’s bound-boy. We -graduated from Striped Rock Union High-school -together. That was where I spent the happy hours -running wild among the flowers in my boyhood’s -happy home down on the farm. After that, she -went to teaching school, and I struck first principles -and punched cattle down on old Mullins’s XQX -ranch. Says I to myself, I’ll have an interest here -<span class='pageno' id='Page_64'>64</span>myself some time, and then married I’ll be to -Susie if she’ll but name the day. I had only six -months before I was to be out of bound to old -Mullins.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Being a darn-fool kid, I let it go at that, and -wrote to her once in a while and got busy learning -to punch cattle. Lord love you, I didn’t have -much to learn, because I was raised in the saddle. -There were none of them better than me -if I did have a High-School education. My eyes -had gone bad along back while I was in the High-school, -calling for spectacles. When I first rode -in gig-lamps, they used to josh me, but when I got -good with the rope and shot off-hand with the -best and took first prize for busting broncos Fourth -of July at Range City, they called me the “Four-eyed -Cow-puncher,” and I was real proud of it. -I wish it was all the nickname I ever had. “The -Hero of Pago Bridge”—I wish to God——</p> - -<p class='c000'>The XQX is seventy miles down the river -from Striped Rock. Seventy miles ain’t such a -distance in Colorado, only I never went back for -pretty near two years and a half. Then, one -Christmas when we were riding fences—keeping -the line up against the snow, and running the cattle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_65'>65</span>back if they broke the wires and got across—I got -to thinking of the holiday dances at Striped Rock, -and says I: “Here’s for a Christmas as near home -as I can get, and a sight of Susie.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The boss let me off, and I made it in on Christmas -Eve. The dance was going on down at -Foresters’ Hall. I fixed up and took it in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And there she was—I didn’t know her for the -start she’d got. Her hair—that she used to wear -in two molassesy-coloured braids hanging down her -back, and shining in the sun the way candy shines -when you pull it—was done up all over her head. -She was all pinky and whitey in the face the way -she used to be when she was a little girl. She had -on a sort of pink dress, mighty pretty, with green -wassets down the front and a green dingbat around -the bottom, and long—not the way it was when I -saw her before. She was rushed to the corner with -every geezer in the place piled in front of her. I -broke into the bunch. Everybody seemed to see -me except Susie. She treated me like any other -maverick in the herd. She hadn’t even a dance -left for me. Once, in “Old Dan Tucker,” she -called me out, but she’d called out every other -tarantula in the White River country, so there was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_66'>66</span>no hope in that. If ever a man didn’t know where -he was at, I was the candidate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All that winter, riding the fence, I thought and -thought. I’d been so dead sure of her that I was -letting her go. Here was the principal of the High-school, -and young Mullins that worked in the -Rancher’s Bank, and Biles that owned stock in the -P L, all after her, like broncos after a marked -steer, and I was only the “Four-eyed Cow-puncher,” -thirty dollars and found. And I got -bluer than the light on the snow. And then says -I to myself, if she ain’t married when spring melts, -by the Lord, I’ll have her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I’m one of those that ain’t forgetting the sixteenth -of February, 1898. Storm over, and me mighty -glad of it. Snow all around, except where the -line of fence-rails peeked through, and the sun just -blinding. I on the bronco breaking through the -crust, feeling mighty good both of us. Down in a -little <em>arroyo</em>, where a creek ran in summer, was the -end of my run. Away off in the snow, I saw -Billy Taylor, my side-partner, waving his hand like -he was excited. I pounded my mule on the back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The Maine’s blown up,” he yells. “The -Maine’s blown up!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_67'>67</span>“The what?” says I, not understanding.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The Maine—Havana Harbour—war sure!” -he says. I tumbled off in the snow while he chucked -me down a bunch of Denver papers. There it -was. I went as <em>loco</em> as Billy. Before I got back -to camp, I had it all figured out—what I ought to -do. I got to the foreman before noon and drew -my pay, and left him cussing. Lickety-split, the -cayuse—he was mine—got me to the station. I -figured that the National Guard would be the first -to go, and I figured right. So I telegraphed to old -Captain Fletcher of Company N at Range City: -“Have you got room for me?” And he answered -me, knowing just how I stood on the ranches, “Yes. -Can you raise me twenty men to fill my company?” -He didn’t need to ask for men; there were plenty -of them anxious enough to go, but he did need the -sort of men I’d get him. Snow be darned, I rode -for four days signing up twenty hellaroos that would -leave the Rough Riders standing. Into Range -City I hustled them. There we waited on the -town, doing nothing but live on our back pay and -drill while we waited, nineteen for glory and Spanish -blood, and me for glory and the girl.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Congress got a move on at last, though we -<span class='pageno' id='Page_68'>68</span>thought it never would, and the Colorado National -Guard was accepted, enlisting as a body. When -we were in camp together and the medical inspector -went around thumping chests, the captain gave -him a little song about my eyes. “He can’t see -without his glasses,” says Captain Fletcher, “but -he can shoot all right with them on. And he -raised my extra men, and he’s a soldier.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The doctor says, “Well, I’m getting forgetful in -my age, and maybe I’ll forget the eye-test.” Which -he did as he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After that was Dewey and Manila Bay, and the -news that the Colorado Volunteers were going to -be sent to the Philippines, which everybody had -studied about in the geography but nobody remembered, -except that they were full of Spaniards just -dying to be lambasted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We got going at last, muster at Denver, and they -gave us a Sunday off to see our folks. You better -believe I took an early train for Striped Rock—and -Susie. A hundred and five miles it was, and -the trains running so that I had just two hours and -twenty-five minutes in the place.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Susie wasn’t at home, nor any of the Lathams. -They were all in church at the Baptist meetinghouse -<span class='pageno' id='Page_69'>69</span>where I gave her the grab-bag ring for kid -fun. I went over there and peeked in the door. -A new sky-pilot was in the pulpit, just turned loose -on his remarks. Sizing him up, I saw that he was -a stem-winding, quarter-hour striking, eight-day -talker that would swell up and bust if he wasn’t allowed -to run down. In the third row, I saw Susie’s -hair. There I’d come a hundred miles and more -to say good-by to her, and only two hours to spare; -and there that preacher was taking my time, the -time that I’d enlisted to fight three years for. It -was against nature, so I signalled to the usher and -told him that Miss Susie Latham was wanted at -home on important business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The usher was one of the people that are born -clumsy. The darn fool, instead of going up and -prodding her shoulder and getting her out sort of -quiet, went up and told the regular exhorter who -was sitting up on the platform; and the regular, -instead of putting him on, told the visiting preacher. -The old geezer was deaf.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How thankful we should be, my brethren, that -this hopeless eternity—” he was saying, when the -regular parson broke out of his high-back chair and -tapped him on the broadcloth and began to whisper.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_70'>70</span>“Hey?” says the stranger.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Miss Susie Latham,” says the regular preacher, -between a whisper and a holler.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What about her?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Wanted at home,” so that you could hear him -all through the church.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh!” says the parson. “Brothers and sisters, -I am requested to announce that Miss Susie Latham -is wanted at home on important business—that -this hopeless eternity is set as a guide to our feet—” -and all the rest of the spiel. And me feeling as -comfortable as a lost heifer in a blizzard—forty -kinds of a fool.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She came down the aisle, looking red and white -by turns, with all the people necking her way. Before -I’d got time to explain why I did it, her mother -got nervous, thinking there must be some trouble, -and came trailing out after her. Then her kid sister -couldn’t stand the strain, and followed suit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That family reunion on the porch spoiled all the -chance that I had to see Susie alone, because when -they heard why I came, and how I was going to -be Striped Rock’s hero, they were for giving me a -Red Cross reception then and there. Only two -hours more until train time, and the old lady had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_71'>71</span>to rush me down to the house for lunch—and me -with the rest of my life to eat in!</p> - -<p class='c000'>But I shook her and the kid sister at last, and -got Susie alone. I tried to tell her—and I couldn’t. -I could say that I was going to do my best and -maybe die for my country, and there I stalled and -balked, her looking the other way all pretty and -pink, and giving me not a word either way to bless -myself with. Says I finally:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“And if I come back, I suppose that you’ll be -married, Susie?” and she says:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, I don’t think that I’ll be married when you -come back; I don’t think that I’ll ever marry unless -he’s a man that I can be proud of.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then she looked at me, her big eyes filling—her -big eyes, coloured like the edge of the mountains -after sunset. I’ve figured it out since that she was -more than half proud of me already—me, in a clean, -blue suit, and the buttons shiny; me, a ten-cent, -camp volunteer. And then the old woman broke -in with a bottle of Eilman’s Embrocation for use -in camp.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Never another chance had I that side of the station. -Of course, she kissed good-by, but that’s -only politeness for soldiers. They all did that. So, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_72'>72</span>although it was just like heaven, I knew that it -didn’t mean anything particular from her, because -her mother did it and her sister, and pretty darned -near every other girl in Striped Rock, seeing that -the news about having a real hero in town had -spread.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Only, when we pulled away and I was leaning -out of the window blowing kisses, being afraid to -blow at Susie in special because I didn’t like to -give myself away, she ran out of the crowd a ways -and held up her little finger to show me something -over the knuckle, and pulled her hand in quick as -if nothing had happened. It was the play kid-ring -that I gave her out of the grab-bag, to show that I -was going to marry her when I grew up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was the last sight of Striped Rock that I -got—Susie waving at the station as far as I could -see her. It made you feel queer to ride past the -fences and the bunch-grass and the foot-hills getting -grayey-green with sage-brush, and the mountains -away off, all snowy on top, and know that chances -were you’d never see them again grayey. And I -won’t, I won’t—never again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Muster at Denver, and the train, and away we -went, packed like a herd around salt, and the towns -<span class='pageno' id='Page_73'>73</span>just black, like a steer in fly-time, with people coming -out to see us pass, and Red Cross lunches every -time the train had to stop for water; next ’Frisco -and Camp Merritt. The first time that I saw this -town, gray all over like a sage-hill, made out of -crazy bay-window houses with fancy-work down the -front, I knew that something was going skewgee.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The night before we went up for our final medical -examination by the regular army surgeon, Captain -Fletcher called me into his tent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Drake, how about your eyes?” says he.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I hadn’t thought of that, supposing that it could -be fixed the same as it was at Range City. I told -him so, and he said it couldn’t, not with the regular -army surgeons. But says he:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re a good soldier, and I got you to raise -my reserves. They won’t let you in if you can’t -pass the eye-test, glasses or no glasses. If it should -happen that you learned a little formula that tallies -with the eye-card, you wouldn’t let on that I gave -it to you, I suppose?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m good at forgetting,” I says.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Burn it when you’ve learned it,” he says, and -he gave me a paper with long strings of letter on it. -I learned it backward and forward, and so on that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_74'>74</span>I could begin in the middle and go both ways. I -lay awake half the night saying it over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Naked as I was born, I floated in on the examiners -for my physicals. Lungs, as they make them -in the cow-country; weight, first-class; hearing, -O. K. They whirled me and began to point. Taking -a tight squint—you see better that way—I -ripped through the formula: P V X C L M N H—I -can see it yet. I could just see what line on -the card he was pointing at, and never a darned bit -more.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They make that sort of a doctor in hell. He -saw me squint—and he began skipping from letter -to letter all over the card. No use—I guessed and -guessed dead wrong. “Rejected!” just businesslike, -as if it was a little matter like a job on a hay-press. -I went out and sat all naked on my soldier-clothes—my -soldier-clothes that I was never going -to wear any more—and covered up my head. It -was the hardest jolt that I ever got—except one.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Captain Fletcher hadn’t any pull; he couldn’t -do anything. Some of the twenty that I rounded -into Range City talked about striking, they were so -mad, but that wouldn’t do any good. I watched -them sworn in next day, shuffling into the armory -<span class='pageno' id='Page_75'>75</span>in new overall clothes. I stood around camp and -saw them drill. I saw them go down the streets -to the transport—flowers in their gun-barrels, -wreaths on their hats, and the people just whooping. -I sneaked after them onto the transport, and -there I broke out and cussed the regular army and -everything else. Old Fletcher saw it. He wasn’t -sore; he understood. But I wish I had killed him -before I let him do what he did next. He said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He can’t be with us, boys, and it ain’t his -fault. But Striped Rock is going to have its hero. -I am going to be correspondent for the Striped -Rock <cite>Leader</cite>. If we have the luck to get into a -fight, he’ll be the hero in my piece in the paper, and -the man that gives away the snap ain’t square with -Company N. Here’s three cheers for Admeh -Drake, the hero of Company N!” he said. When -they pulled out, people were cheering them and -they cheering me. It heartened me up considerably, -or else I couldn’t have stood to see them sliding -past Telegraph Hill into the stream and me not -there with them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>First, I was for writing to Susie and telling her -all about it, but I just couldn’t. I put it off, saying -that I’d go back and tell her all about it myself, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_76'>76</span>I went to mooning around camp like a ghost. And -then along came a copy of the <cite>Leader</cite> that settled -it. All about the big feed that they gave the regiment -at Honolulu, and how Admeh Drake had -responded for the men of Company N. Captain -Fletcher was getting in his deadly work. It said -that I was justly popular, and my engagement to one -of Striped Rock’s fairest daughters was whispered. -It treated me like I was running for Congress on the -<cite>Leader</cite> ticket. I began to wonder if I saw a way -to Susie.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After they got to the Islands, I dragged the -cascos through the surf and rescued a squad of -Company N from drowning. All that was in the -<cite>Leader</cite>. The night they scrapped in front of the -town, I stood and cheered on a detachment when -they faltered before the foe. After they got to -Manila and did nothing but lay around, Captain -Fletcher had me rescue a man from a fire.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After that, I began to get next to myself, knowing -that I’d have done best to stop it at the start -and go straight back to Striped Rock. I’d been -a darned fool to put it off so long. Now I could -never go back and face the joshing. I wrote the -captain a letter about it, and he never paid any attention. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_77'>77</span>Instead of that, he sent me back a bunch -of her letters. Knowing how things stood, what I -was doing and what she thought that I was doing, -I could hardly open them. They made me feel as -small as buckshot in a barrel. They hinted about -being proud of me—and prayed that I’d come home -alive—and I knew, in spite of being ashamed, that -I had her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next thing, the natives got off the reservation. -There’s where Captain Fletcher went clean, plumb -<em>loco</em>. One day the <cite>Leader</cite> came out with circus -scare-heads about the “Hero of Pago Bridge.” -They printed my biography and a picture of me. -It didn’t look like me, but it was a nice picture. I’d -broke through a withering fire and carried a Kansas -lieutenant across to safety after he had been helplessly -wounded—and never turned a hair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>What was I doing all that time? Laying pretty -low. I was afraid to leave town because I wanted -to keep an eye on the <cite>Leader</cite>, which was coming -regularly to the Public Library, and afraid to get a -regular daylight job for fear that somebody from -Striped Rock would come along and see me. I was -nearly busted when I ran onto old Doctor Morgan, -the Indian Root Specialist. He gave me a job as -<span class='pageno' id='Page_78'>78</span>his outside man. All I had to do was to hang -around watching for sick-looking strays from the -country. You know the lay. I told them how -Doctor Morgan had cured me of the same lingering -disease and how I was a well man, thanks to -his secrets, babying them along kind of easy until -they went to the doctor. He did the rest, and I -collected twenty-five per cent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Striped Rock acted as though I was the mayor. -They named their new boulevard Drake Way. -Come Fourth of July, they set me up alongside of -Lincoln. They talked about running me for the -Assembly. There came another bunch of her letters—I -had answered the last lot that Cap sent, -mailed them all the way to the Philippines, to be -forwarded just to gain time—they were heaven -mixed with hell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The regiment was coming back in a week, and -then I began to think it over and cuss myself harder -than ever for a natural-born fool that didn’t have -enough sand to throw up the game at first and go -home and face the music. It was too late then, and -I couldn’t go back to Striped Rock and take all the -glory that was coming to me and face Susie knowing -that I was a fake. Besides, I knew the boys -<span class='pageno' id='Page_79'>79</span>from Range City were liable to go up to Striped -Rock any time and tell the whole story, and it -froze me, inside. I didn’t know what to do, but the -first thing that I had on hand was to catch them -at the dock and tell them all that it meant to me -and get them to promise that they wouldn’t tell. -Whether I’d dare to go back and try to get Susie, -I couldn’t even think.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I threw up my job with the doctor and went -down to the transport office to see just when they -expected the boys. Little house on the dock; little -hole rooms that you could scarcely turn around in. -They said that the boss transport man was in the -next room. I walked in.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There—face to face—was Susie—Susie, pinky -and whitey, her eyes just growing and growing. I -couldn’t turn, I couldn’t run, I could just hang tight -onto the door-knob and study the floor. The -transport man went out and left us alone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And she said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Admeh Drake, <em>what</em> are you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>My inwards, me saying nothing all the time, said -that I was a fool and a thief and a liar. I could -have lied, told her that I came home ahead of the -regiment, if it had been anyone but Susie. But I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_80'>80</span>told her the truth, bellowed it out,—because my -soul was burned paper.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I came out to see you come back,” she said, -and then:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I thought that I could be proud of you.” -Never another word she said, and she never looked -at me again, but she threw out her hand all of a sudden -and something dropped. It was the play kid-ring -I gave her the night that I wish I had died.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I tried to talk; I tried to hold the door; I might -as well have tried to talk to the wall. The last I -saw of her, the last that ever I will see, was her -molassesy-gold hair going out of the big gate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I spilled out over the transport man and—O -God—how I cried! I ain’t ashamed of it. You’d -have cried, too. After that—I don’t know what I -did. I walked over a bigger patch of hell than any -man ever did alone. But the regiment’s come and -gone and never found me, and I don’t know why I -ain’t dead along with my insides.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And they mustered out at Denver, and the boys -split up and went home. Company N went back -to Range City—cottonwoods shedding along the -creeks, ranges all white on top, sagey smell off the -foot-hills, people riding and driving in from the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_81'>81</span>ranches by hundreds to see them and cheer them -and feed them and hug them—but there wasn’t -any hero for Striped Rock, because he had bad -eyes and was a darn fool—a darn fool!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER V<br /> <span class='large'>THE DIMES OF COFFEE JOHN</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Well,” said the Harvard Freshman, after -the last tale was told, “I’m dead broke, -and my brain seems to have gone out of -business.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m broke, and my heart’s broke, too,” said the -Hero of Pago Bridge.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m broke, similar,” said the ex-medium, “and -my nerves is a-sufferin’ from a severe disruption.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John thumped his red fist upon the table.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Bryce up, gents!” he exclaimed. “Remember -there’s nothink in the ryce but the finish, as the -dark ’orse says, w’en ’e led ’em up to the wire! -They’s many a man ’as went broke in this ’ere tarn, -an’ ’as lived to build a four-story ’ouse in the Western -Addition; an’ they’s plenty more as will go broke -<span class='pageno' id='Page_82'>82</span>afore the trams stop runnin’ on Market Street! This -’ere is a city o’ hextremes, you tyke me word for -thet! It ain’t on’y that Chinatarn is a stone’s throw -from the haristocracy o’ Nob Hill, an’ they’s a corner -grocery with a side entrance alongside of every -Methody chapel. It ain’t on’y that the gals here is -prettier an’ homblier, an’ stryter an’ wickeder than -anyw’eres else in Christendom, but things go up an’ -darn every other wye a man can nyme. It’s corffee -an’ sinkers to-dye an’ champyne an’ terrapin to-morrer -for ’arf the people what hits the village. -They’s washwomen’s darters wot’s wearin’ of their -dimonds art on Pacific Avenoo, an’ they’s larst year’s -millionaires wot’s livin’ in two rooms darn on Minnie -Street. It’s the wye o’ life in a new country, gents, -but they’s plums a-gettin’ ripe yet, just the syme, -every bleedin’ dye, I give yer <em>my</em> word! Good -Lawd! Look at me, myself! Lemme tell yer -wot’s happened to me in my time!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>And with this philosophic introduction, Coffee -John began</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_83'>83</span> - <h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF BIG BECKY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>When I fust struck this ’ere port, I was -an yble seaman on the British bark <em>Four -Winds</em> art o’ Iquique, with nitrytes, an’ -I was abart as green a lad as ever was plucked. -When I drored the nine dollars that was a-comin’ -to me, I went ashore an’ took a look at the tarn, an’ -I decided right then that this was the plyce for me. -So I calmly deserts the bark, an’ I ain’t set me foot -to a bloomin’ gang-plank from that dye to this, syvin’ -to tyke the ferry to Oakland.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Me money larsted abart four dyes. The bleedin’ -sharks at the sylor boardin’-’ouse charged five, a -femile in a box at the “Golden West” darnce-hall -got awye with three more, an’ the rest was throwed -into drinks promiscus. The fourth dye in I ’adn’t a -bloomin’ penny to me nyme, an’ I was as wretched -as a cow in a cherry-tree. After abart twelve -hours in “’Ell’s Arf-Acre” I drifted into a dive, -darn on Pacific Street, below Kearney, on the Barbary -Coast, as <em>was</em> the Barbary Coast in them dyes! -It was a well-known plyce then, an’ not like anythink -else wot ever done business that I ever seen, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_84'>84</span>“Bottle Myer’s” it was; per’aps yer may have -heard of it? No?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Yer went in through a swing door with a brarss -sign on, darn a ’allwye as turned into a corner into -a wider plyce w’ere the bar was, an’ beyond that -to a ’all that might ’ave ’eld, I should sye, some sixty -men or thereabart. The walls was pynted in a blue -distemper, but for a matter of a foot or so above -the floor there was wot yer might call a dydo o’ -terbacker juice, like a bloomin’ coat o’ brarn pynte. -The ’all smelled full strong o’ fresh spruce sawdust -on the floor, an’ the rest was whiffs o’ kerosene ile, -an’ sylor’s shag terbacker an’ style beer, an’ the -combination was jolly narsty! Every man ’ad ’is -mug o’ beer on a shelf in front of ’is bench, an’ the -parndink of ’em after a song was somethink awful. -On a bit of a styge was a row of performers in farncy -dress like a nigger minstrel show, an’ a beery little -bloke sat darn in front, bangin’ a tin-pan pianner, -reachin’ for ’is drink with one ’and occysional, -withart leavin’ off plyin’ with the other.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, after a guy ’ad sung “All through a lydy -wot was false an’ fyre,” an’ one o’ the ’ens ’ad -cracked art “Darn the lyne to Myry,” or somethink -like that, Old Bottle Myer, ’e got up, with a ’ed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_85'>85</span>like a cannon-ball an’ cock eyes an’ eyebrars like -bits o’ thatch, an’ a farncy flannel shirt, an’ ’e says:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“If any gent present wants to sing a song, he can; -an’ if ’e don’t want to, ’e don’t ’ave to!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nar, I wa’n’t no singer myself, though I ’ad piped -occysional, to me mytes on shipboard, but I thought -if I couldn’t do as well as them as ’ad myde us suffer, -I ought to be jolly well ashymed o’ meself. -Wot was more to the point, I didn’t ’ave the price -of a pot o’ beer to bless myself with, an’ thinks I, -this might be a charnst to pinch a bit of a ’aul. So -I ups an’ walks darn to the styge, gives the bloke -at the pianner a tip on the chune, an’ starts off on -old “Ben Bobstye.” They was shellbacks in the -audience quite numerous as I seen, an’ it done me -good to ’ear ’em parnd their mugs after I’d gort -through. W’en I picked up the abalone shell like -the rest of ’em done, an’ parssed through the ’all, -wot with dimes an’ two-bit pieces I ’ad considerable, -an’ I was natchurly prard o’ me luck.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Old Bottle Myer come up an’ says, “’Ow much -did you myke, me friend? Five fifteen, eh? Well, -me charge will be on’y a dollar this time, but if yer -want to come rarnd to-morrow night, yer can. If -yer do all right, I’ll tyke yer on reg’lar.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_86'>86</span>Well, I joined the comp’ny sure enough, an’ sung -every night, pickin’ up a feerly decent livin’ at the -gyme, for it was boom times then, an’ money was -easier to come by. I had me grub with all the -other hartists in a room they called the “Cabin,” darn -below the styge, connected to a side dressin’-room -by a narrer styre. Nar, one o’ the lydies in the -comp’ny was the feature o’ the show, an’ she <em>were</em> -a bit out o’ the ord’n’ry, I give you <em>my</em> word!</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was a reg’lar whyle of a great big trouncin’ -Jew woman as ever I see. Twenty stone if she -were an arnce, an’ all o’ six foot two, with legs like -a bloomin’ grand pianner w’en she put on a short -petticoat to do a comic song. She was billed as -“Big Becky,” an’ by thet time she was pretty well -known abart tarn.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She ’ad started in business in San Francisco at the -hextreme top o’ the ’Ebrew haristocracy of the -Western Addition, ’avin ’parssed ’erself off for a -member o’ one o’ the swellest families o’ St. Louis, -an’ she did cut a jolly wide swath here, an’ no dart -abart thet! She was myde puffickly at ’ome everyw’eres, -an’ flashed ’er sparklers an’ ’er silk garns -with the best o’ ’em. Lord, it must ’ave took yards -o’ cloth to cover ’er body! Well, she gort all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_87'>87</span>nobs into line, an’ ’ad everythink ’er own wye for -abart two months, as a reg’lar full-blowed society -favoryte. Day an’ night she ’ad a string o’ men -after ’er, or ’er money, w’ich was quite two things, -seein’ she ’ad to graft for every penny she bloomin’ -well ’ad.</p> - -<p class='c000'>W’ile she were at the top notch of the social -w’irl, as you might sye, along come another Jewess -from the East, reckernized ’er, an’ spoils Big -Becky’s gyme, like a kiddie pricks a ’ole in a pink -balloon. She was showed up for a hadventuress, -story-book style, wot ’ad ’oodwinked all St. Louis -a year back, an’ then ’er swell pals dropped awye -from ’er like she was a pest-’ouse. Them wot ’ad -accepted ’er invites, an’ ’ad ’er to dinner an’ the -theatre an’ wot-not, didn’t myke no bones abart it—they -just natchully broke an’ run. Then all -sorts o’ stories come art, ’ow she borrowed money -’ere, there an’ everyw’ere, put ’er nyme to bad -checks, an’ fleeced abart every bloomin’ ’Ebrew in -tarn. She’d a bin plyin’ it on the grand, an’ on the -little bit too grand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was on trial for abart two dyes, an’ the city -pypers was so full o’ the scandal that the swells she -’oodwinked ’ad to leave tarn till it blew over, an’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_88'>88</span>San Francisco quit larfin at ’em. I give yer me -word the reporters did give art some precious rycy -tyles, an’ every ’Ebrew wot ’ad ’ad Big Becky at a -five o’clock tea didn’t dyre go art o’ doors dye-times.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, for the syke o’ ’ushin’ matters up, her cyse -were compromised an’ the prosecution withdrawed, -she bein’ arsked in return to git art o’ tarn. Instead -o’ thet, not ’avin’ any money, she went an’ accepted -an offer from a dime museum here, an’ begun -fer to exhibit of ’erself in short skirts every -afternoon an’ evenink reg’lar, to the gryte an’ grand -delight of every chappie who ’adn’t been fooled -’imself. After that she done “Mazeppa” at the -Bella Union Theatre in a costume wot was positively -’orrid. It was so rude that the police interfered, -an’ thet was back ten year ago, w’en they -wa’n’t so partickler on the Barbary Coast as they -be naradyes. Then she dropped darn to Bottle -Myer’s an’ did serios in tights. She was as funny -as a bloomin’ helephant on stilts, if so yer didn’t see -the plyntive side of it, an’ we turned men awye -from the door every night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I don’t expect Becky ever ’ad more’n a spoonful o’ -conscience. But with all ’er roguery, she was as -big a baby inside as she were a giant outside, w’en -<span class='pageno' id='Page_89'>89</span>yer onct knew ’ow to tyke ’er, was Big Becky. -’Ard as brarss she was w’en yer guyed ’er, but soft -as butter w’en yer took ’er part, w’ich were somethink -as she weren’t much used to, for most treated -’er brutle. Some’ow I couldn’t help likin’ ’er a bit, -in spite o’ meself. I put in a good deal o’ talk -with ’er, one wye an’ another, till I ’ad ’er confidence, -an’ could get most anythink art of ’er I -wanted. She told me ’er whole story, bit by bit, -an’ it were a reg’lar shillin’ shocker, I give yer <em>my</em> -word!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Amongst other things, she told me that a Johnnie -in tarn nymed Ikey Behn ’ad gort precious -balmy over ’er, before she was showed up, an’ ’ad -went so far as to tyke art a marriage license in -’opes, when she seen ’e meant biz, she’d marry ’im. -’E’d even been bloomin’ arss enough to give it to -’er, and she ’ad it yet, an’ was ’oldin’ it over ’is ’ed -for blackmyle, if wust come to wust. She proposed -for to ’ave a parson’s nyme forged into the -marriage certificate that comes printed on the other -side from the license.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nar, things bein’ like this, one night I come up -the styre from the “Cabin” w’ere I’d been lyte to -dinner, an’ went into the room w’ere Becky was a-gettin’ -<span class='pageno' id='Page_90'>90</span>ready to dress for ’er turn. There was a -toff there, in a topper, an’ a long black coat, an’ ’e -was havin’ it art, ’ot an’ ’eavy, with Becky. Just -as I come up, ’e broke it off, cursink ’er something -awful, an’ she was as red as a bleedin’ ’am, an’ -shykin’ a herthquyke with ’er ’air darn, an’ ’er -breath comin’ like a smith’s bellus. The gentleman -slum the door, an’ she says to me, “’Ere, Jock, old -man, will yer do me a fyvor? Just ’old this purse -o’ mine an’ keep it good an’ syfe till I get through -my song, for that’s Ikey Behn wot just went art, -an’ ’e’ll get my license sure, if I leave it abart. I -carn’t trust nobody in this ’ole but you. It’s in -there,” an’ she showed me the pyper, shovin’ the -purse into me ’and. I left an’ went darn front -w’ile she put on ’er rig an’ done ’er turn.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Art in the bar, there was the toff, talkin’ to one -o’ the wyters, an’ I knew ’e was tryin’ to tip somebody -to frisk Big Becky’s pockets. W’en I come -up, ’e says, “’Ow de do, me man? I sye, ’ave a -glarss with me, won’t yer? Wot’ll yer ’ave?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I marked ’is gyme then an’ there, an’ I sat darn -to see ’ow ’e’d act. ’E done it ’andsome, ’e did; -’e was a thoroughbred, an’ no mistake abart <em>thet</em>! -’E wan’t the bloke to drive a bargain like most -<span class='pageno' id='Page_91'>91</span>would ’ave done under the syme irritytin’ circumstances.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See ’ere,” ’e says, affable, an’ ’e opens ’is wallet -an’ tykes art a pack o’ bills. “’Ere’s a tharsand -in ’undred-dollar greenbacks. You get me that -pyper Big Becky’s got in ’er purse!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>There I was, sittin’ right in front of ’im, with -the license in me pocket, an’ there was a fortune -in front o’ me as would ’ave set me up in biz for -the rest o’ me life. Wot’s more, if they’s anythink -I do admire, it’s a thoroughbred toff, for I was -brought up to reckernize clarss, an’ I seen at a -wink that this ’ere Johnnie was a dead sport. I -knew wot it meant to ’im to get possession o’ thet -pyper, for Becky could myke it jolly ’ot for ’im -with it. I confess, gents, thet for abart ’alf a mo I -hesityted. But I couldn’t go back on the woman, -seem’ she ’ad trusted me partickler, an’ so I shook -me ’ed mournful, an’ refused the wad.</p> - -<p class='c000'>’E was a bit darn in the mouth at thet, not -lookin’ to run up agin such, in a plyce like Bottle -Myer’s, I expeck. “See ’ere, me man,” ’e says, -“I just <em>gort</em> to ’ave thet pyper. I’ll tell yer wot, -w’en I gort art thet license, I swyre I thought the -woman was stryte an’ all she pretended to be. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_92'>92</span>We was all of us took in. I wa’n’t after ’er -money, I was plum balmy on ’er, sure, an’ nar I’m -engyged to the nicest little gal as ever lived, an’ -it’ll queer the whole thing if this ’ere foolishness -gets art!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With my respeck for the haristocracy, I was -jolly sorry for the chap, but I wa’n’t a-goin’ to sell -Becky art, not <em>thet</em> wye. I wa’n’t no holy Willie, -but I stuck at that. So I arsked, “Wot’s the gal’s -nyme?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s none of your biz,” says Behn, gettin’ ’ot -in the scuppers, “an’ that little gyme won’t do yer -no good, nohow, for the gal knows all abart this -matter, ’an yer can’t trip me up there. Not much. -I’ll pye yer all the docyment’s worth, if yer’ll get it -for me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yer won’t get it art o’ Becky not at no price,” -I says, “an’ yer won’t get it art o’ me, unless yer -answer my questing. If yer want me to conduck -this ’ere affyre, I got to know all abart it, an’ yer -gal won’t be put to no bother, neither.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>’E looked me over a bit, an’ then ’e says, low, -so that nobody couldn’t ’ear, “It’s Miss Bertha -Wolfstein.” Then ’e give me ’is address, ’an left -the matter for me to do wot I could.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_93'>93</span>I thought if anybody could work Becky, it would -be me, an’ I expected the gal’s nyme might come -in ’andy, though I ’ad no idea then how strong it -would pull. So I goes up to the big woman after -she was dressed, and tykes ’er up to the “Poodle -Dog” for supper. She ’ad gort over the worry by -this time, an’ was feelink as chipper as a brig in a -west wind.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did ever yer ’ear tell of a Bertha Wolfstein?” -I says, off-hand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then wot does she do but begins to bryke darn -an’ blubber. “She was the on’y one in tarn as -come to see me after I was pulled,” she says. “I -done all kinds o’ fyvors for lots of ’em, but Miss -Wolfstein was the on’y one who ’ad called me -friend, as ever remembered it. She was a lydy, -was Miss Wolfstein; she treated me angel w’ite, -she did, Gawd bless ’er pretty fyce!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then I knowed I ’ad ’er w’ere I wanted ’er, ’an -I give it to ’er tender an’ soft, with all the sugar an’ -cream she could stand. I let art Ikey Behn’s story, -hinch by hinch, an’ I pynted the feelinks o’ thet -Bertha Wolfstein with all the tack I knew how, till -I gort Becky on the run an’ she boohooed again, -right art loud, an’ I see I ’ad win ’er over. My -<span class='pageno' id='Page_94'>94</span>word! she <em>did</em> look a sight for spectytors after -she’d wiped a ’arf parnd o’ pynte off’n ’er fyce with -’er napkin, sobbink awye, like ’er ’eart was as soft -as a slug in a mud-puddle. She parssed over the -pyper art of ’er purse an’ she says, “Yer can give -it to Ikey an’ get the money. I don’t want to ’urt -a ’air o’ thet gal’s ’ead.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Seein’ she was so easy worked, I thought it was -on’y right I should be pyde for me trouble, for -it ’ad stood me somethink for a private room an’ -drinks an’ such to get her into proper condition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I says, “Thet’s all right, Becky, an’ it’s jolly -’andsome o’ yer to be willin’ to let go of the docky-ment, -but I’ll be blowed if I see ’ow yer can tyke -’is money, w’en yer feel that wye. If yer sell art -the pyper, w’ere does the bloomin’ gratitude to the -gal come in, anywye?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this, Becky looked all wyes for a Sunday, an’ -I perceeded to rub it in. “Nar, see here, Becky, -w’ich would yer rather do—get five ’undred dollars -for the license from Ikey, or let Miss Wolfstein -know yer’d made a present of it to ’er, for wot she -done to yer?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was a ’ard conundrum for a woman like -that, who ’ad fleeced abart every pal she ever ’ad, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_95'>95</span>an’ the money was a snug bit for anybody who was -as ’ard up as she was then. I thought I’d mark -the price darn a bit so’s to myke the sacrifice easier -for ’er. I didn’t dyre to trust her with a offer of -the tharsand Ikey ’ad flashed at me. Besides, I -thought I see a charnst to myke a bit meself withart -lyin’. Sure enough, I ’ad read the weather in ’er -fyce all right, an’ she was gyme to lose five ’underd -just to sye “thank you,” as yer might sye. I farncy -I’d found abart the only spot in ’er ’eart as wa’n’t -rotten.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I guess I’d rather ’ave ’er know I ain’t quite so -bad as they think,” she says, an’ she gulluped an’ -rubbed ’er eyes. “You go to Ikey, an’ you tell -’im ’e’s a—” Well, I won’t sye wot she called ’im. -“But Bertha Wolfstein is the on’y lydy in tarn, an’ -it’s on’y for ’er syke I’m givin’ up the license.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then she kerflummuxed again, an’ if yer think -I left her time to think it over, yer don’t know old -John. I took the pyper before the words was feerly -art of ’er marth, an’ in ’arf an’ ’our I was pullin’ -Ikey Behn’s door-bell. When ’e seen me, ’e -grinned like a cat in a cream-jug, an’ ’e arsked me -into the li’bry like I was a rich uncle just ’ome -from the di’mond fields.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_96'>96</span>Nar, yer might think as I was a-goin’ to try to -sell ’im the pyper on me own account, leavin’ ’im to -think that Becky was gettin’ the price of it, an’ me -a percentage. Not much I wa’n’t; not on yer -blessed life! I was too clever for thet! I’ve seen -reel toffs before, an’ I knew Ikey for best clarss -when I piped ’im off. ’Ave yer ever watched the -bootblacks in Piccadilly Circus? D’yer think they -has a trades-union price for a shine? Nar! W’en -a bleedin’ swell comes along an’ gits a polish an’ -arsks ’ow much, it’s “Wot yer please, sir,” an’ “I -leave it to you, sir,” an’ the blackie gits abart four -times wot ’e’d a-dared to arsk, specially if the toff’s -a bit squeegee. That’s the on’y wye to treat a -gentleman born, an’ I knew it. So I tipped ’im off -the stryte story, leavin’ nothing art to speak of, an’ -’e listens affable. I ’ands ’im over the license at -the end.</p> - -<p class='c000'>W’en ’e’d stuck the pyper in a candle ’andy, an’ -’ad lighted a big cigar with it, offerink the syme an’ -a drink to me, ’e says, as cool as a pig before -Christmas, says ’e, “Nar, me man, wot d’yer want -for yer trouble? Yer done me a fyvor, an’ no dart -abart <em>thet</em>!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No trouble at all,” I says. “I’m proud to -oblige such a perfeck gentleman as you be,” an’ with -that I picks up me ’at an’ walks toward the door.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_97'>97</span>“Wyte a bit,” ’e says, “I’ll see if I ain’t gort a -dollar on me,” an’ ’e smiles cordial. But ’e watches -me fyce sharp, too, as I seen in the lookin-glarss. -Then ’e goes to a writin’-desk an’ looks in a dror. -“If happen yer don’t want any o’ this yerself, yer -can give it to Becky,” he says, an’ ’e seals up -a packet an’ gives it to me like ’e was the bloomin’ -Prince o’ Wyles. Sure, ’e <em>was</em> toff, clean darn to -’is boot-pegs, I give yer <em>my</em> word!</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I gort out o’ doors an’ opened the packet, -I near fynted awye. They was a wad o’ hundreds -as come to a cool four tharsand dollars. I walked -back on the bloomin’ hatmosphere!</p> - -<p class='c000'>I come into Bottle Myer’s, just as Big Becky was -a-singin’ “Sweet Vylets,” in a long w’ite baby rig -an’ a bunnit as big as a ’ogshead. Lord, old Myer -<em>did</em> myke a guy o’ thet woman somethink awful! -W’en she come off, I was wytin’ in the dressin’-room -for ’er.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My Lawd, Jock!” she says, w’en she seen me, -“yer didn’t give up the pyper, did yer? Yer -knew I was on’y foolin’, didn’t yer? Don’t sye -yer let Ikey get a-hold of it! It was good for a -hunderd to me any dye I needed the money, if I -wanted to give it to the pypers.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_98'>98</span>Well, that myde me sick, though I’d expecked -as much. I was thet disgusted thet she couldn’t -stand by ’er word for a hour, thet I couldn’t ’elp -syin’, “An’ ’ow abart Miss Wolfstein, as was a -friend to yer, w’en all the other women in tarn -went back on yer, Becky? Yer know wot <em>she’ll</em> -think of yer, don’t yer?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Right then I seen abart as plucky a fight between -good an’ bad worked art on ’er fyce, as I -ever seen in the ring, London Prize rules to a finish. -An’ if you’ll believe it, gents, the big woman’s gratitude -to the Wolfstein gal come art on top, an’ the -stingy part of ’er was knocked art flat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It were a tough battle, though, I give yer <em>my</em> -word, before I got the decision. She bit ’er lip -till the blood come through the rouge, standin’ there, -a great whoopin’ big mounting o’ flesh with baby -clothes an’ a pink sash on, an’ a wig an’ bunnit like -a bloomin’ Drury Lyne Christmas Pantymime. I -just stood an’ looked at ’er! I’m blowed if she didn’t -git almost pretty for ’alf a mo, w’en she says:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’m glad yer did give it up, Jock; I’m glad, -nar it’s all over. But thet five hundred would ’ave -syved me life, for old Myer ’as give me the sack -to-dye, an’ I don’t know wot’ll become o’ me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_99'>99</span>Wot did I do? I done wot the dirtiest sneak -in the Pen would a did, an’ ’anded art the envelope -an’ split the pile with ’er.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John fetched a deep sigh. “Well, gents, -thet’s w’ere I got me start. The wad didn’t larst -long, for I was green an’ unused to money, but I -syved art enough to set me up here, an’ ’ere I am -yet. I never seen Big Becky sinct.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nar you see wot a man might ’appen to strike -in a tarn like this. Every bloomin’ dye they’s somebody -up an’ somebody darn. I started withart a -penny, an’ I pulled art a small but helegant fortune -in a week’s time. So can any man.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gents, I give you this stryte: Life in San -Francisco is a bloomin’ fayry tyle if a man knows -’is wye abart, an’ a bloke can bloomin’ well blyme -’is own liver if ’e carn’t find a bit of everythink ’ere -’e wants, from the Californy gal, w’ich is the noblest -work o’ Gawd, to the ’Frisco flea, w’ich is a bleedin’ -cousin to the Old Nick ’isself! They ain’t no tarn -like it, they ain’t never been none, an’ they ain’t never -goin’ to be. It ain’t got neither turf nor trees nor -kebs, but it’s bloody well gort a climate as mykes -a man’s ’eart darnce in ’is bussum, an’ cable-cars -<span class='pageno' id='Page_100'>100</span>wot’ll tyke a guy uphill to ’eaven or rarnd the -bloomin’ next corner to ’ell’s cellar! They’s every -sin ’ere except ’ypocrisy, for that ain’t needed, an’ -they’s people wot would ’ave been synted if they’d -lived in ancient times.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“An’ nar, I want to egspress somethink of wot -I thinks o’ you bums. As fur as I can see every -one o’ yer is a ’ard cyse, ’avin’ indulged in wot yer -might call questingable practices, withart yet bein’, -so to speak, of the criminal clarss. It don’t go to -myke a man particklerly prard o’ ’umanity to keep -a dime restaurant; ’arrivver, ’Evving knows wot I’d -do if I couldn’t sometimes indulge in the bloomin’ -glow of ’ope. Vango, I allar you’ll be a bad ’un, -and I don’t expeck to make a Sunday-school superintendent -o’ yer. Coffin uses such lengwidge as -mykes a man wonder if ’e ain’t a bleedin’ street -fakir on a ’arf-’oliday, so I gives ’im up frankly an’ -freely an’ simply ’opes for the best. But you, -Dryke, is just a plyne ornery lad as ’as ’ad ’is eart -broke, an’ you ’as me sympathy, as a man with -feelinks an’ a conscience.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nar, I’ll tell yer wot I’ll do. I’ll styke the three -of yer a dime apiece, an’ yer git art o’ ’ere with the -firm intentions o’ gettin’ rich honest. Mybe yer won’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_101'>101</span>myke it, an’ then again mybe yer will, but it’s a good -gamble an’ I’d like to have it tried art. Anywye, -come back ’ere to-morrow at nine, an’ ’ave dinner -on me, ’an tell me all abart it. Wot d’yer sye?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a psychological moment. The proposition, -fantastic as it was, seemed, under the spell of -Coffee John’s enthusiasm, to promise something -mysteriously new, something grotesquely romantic. -It was a chance to turn a new leaf. The three -vagabonds were each stranded at a turn of the -tide. The medium, with his nerves unstrung, was -only too willing to cast on Fate the responsibility of -the next move. The Harvard Freshman, with no -nerves at all, one might say, hailed the adventure -as a Quixotic quest that would be amusing to put to -the hazard of chance. The hero of Pago Bridge -had little spirit left, but, like Vango, he welcomed -any fortuitous hint that would tell him which way -to turn in his misery. All three were well worked -upon by the solace of the moment, and a full -stomach makes every man brave. Coffee John’s -appeal went home, and from the sordid little shop -three beggars went forth as men. One after the -other accepted the lucky dime and fared into the -night, to pursue the firefly of Fortune.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_102'>102</span>In ten minutes the restaurant was dark and -empty, and Coffee John was snoring in a back room. -Three Picaroons were busy at the Romance of -Roguery.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VI<br /> <span class='large'>THE HARVARD FRESHMAN’S ADVENTURE: THE FORTY PANATELAS</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>James Wiswell Coffin, 3d, was the -first of the three adventurers to leave the restaurant, -and as he turned up Kearney Street he -had a new but fully fledged philosophy buzzing in -his brain. Enlightenment had come in a hint -dropped by Coffee John himself. It took a Harvard -man and a Bostonian of Puritan stock to hatch -that chick of thought, but, by the time the coffee -was finished, the mental egg broke and an idea -burst upon him. It was this:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Facts show that good luck is stable for a while -and is then followed by a run of misfortune. The -mathematical ideal of alternate favorable and unfavorable -combinations does not often occur. There -<span class='pageno' id='Page_103'>103</span>is where the great Law of Probabilities falls down -hard. The curve of fortune is like a wave. It -should then be played heavily while it ascends, and -lightly on the decline. Mine is undoubtedly rising. -Go to! I shall proceed to gamble!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>But how gamble at midnight with a capital of -but one dime? In no other city in the world is it -so easy as in San Francisco, that quaint rendezvous -of saloons and cigar stands. There the goddess -Fortuna has a shrine on every street corner and the -offerings of her devotees produce a rattle as characteristic -of the town as the slap of the cable pulley -in the conduit of the car lines. The cigar slot-machine -or “hard-luck-box” is a nickel lottery -played by good and bad alike; for it has a reputation -no shadier than the church-raffle or the juvenile -grab-bag, and is tolerated as a harmless -safety-valve for the lust of gaming. All the same, -it is the perpetual ubiquitous delusion of the amateur -sportsman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Gunschke’s cigar shop was still open as Coffin -reached the corner of Brush Street. He walked -briskly inside the open sales-room (for a cigar shop -has but three walls in San Francisco’s gentle clime) -and, with the assurance of one who has just touched -<span class='pageno' id='Page_104'>104</span>a humpback and the carelessness of a millionaire, -he exchanged Coffee John’s dime for two nickels, -dropped one down the slot of the machine on the -counter and sprang the handle. The five wheels -of playing-cards whirled madly, then stopped, leaving -a poker-hand exposed behind the wire. He -had caught a pair of kings, good for a “bit” -cigar.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin was disappointed, and yet, after all, there -was a slight gain in the transaction. Investing five -cents, he had won twelve and a half cents’ worth -of merchandise. It was not sufficiently marvellous -to turn his head, but his luck was evidently on the -up-curve, though it was rising slowly enough. He -took the other nickel—his last—and jerked the -handle again, awaiting with calmness for the cards -to come to a standstill.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As the wheels settled into place a man with -green eyes and a bediamonded shirt front came up -and leaned over Coffin’s shoulder. “Good work! -A straight flush, by crickety!—forty cigars! Get -in and break the bank, young fellow!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin turned to him with nonchalance, while the -clerk marked the winning in a book. “Nn—nn! -I know when I’ve got enough.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_105'>105</span>“Play for me then, will you?” the other rejoined. -“You’ve got luck, you have!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t propose to make a present of it to you, if -I have; I need every stitch of it myself.” And -then Coffin, touched with a happy thought, began -to swagger. “Besides, if I’m going to smoke this -forty up to-night I’ve got to get busy with myself.” -He looked knowingly at the goods displayed -for his choice, pinching the wrappers. “I’ve -never had all the cigars I could smoke yet, and -I’m going to try my limit. Got any Africana -Panatelas, Colorado Maduro?” he asked the -clerk. A small box was taken down from the -shelf. Coffin accepted it and walked leisurely -toward the door.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Good Lord!” cried the stranger, following -him. “You don’t think you can tackle forty cigars -on a stretch, do you? Kid, it’ll kill you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a beautiful death,” Coffin replied, jauntily, -“you can tell mamma I died happy.” The cigar -clerk grinned.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Strikes me you’re troubled with youngness,” -said the stranger, looking him over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin ruffled at his patronizing tone. “See -here! D’you think I can’t get away with these -<span class='pageno' id='Page_106'>106</span>forty cigars, smoking ’em in an end-to-end chain -down to one-inch butts?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I bet you a hundred dollars you get sick as a -pig first!” was the reply.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Taken!” Coffin cried, and went at him with -fire in his eye. “See here, I left all my money on -my grand piano, but if you’ll trust me I’ll trust you -without stakes held. We’ll get the clerk here to -see fair play, and if I don’t see this box to a finish -or pay up, you two can push the face off me. -What d’you say?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The green-eyed stranger, who had evidently -money to spend foolishly, and a night to waste in -doing it, assented jovially. It is not hard to organize -an impromptu trio for any hair-brained purpose -whatever in that land of careless comradeship. The -two waited till the clerk had put up the screen at -the front of the shop, and then walked with him -round to California Street. Half way up the first -block stood an old-fashioned wooden house painted -drab, with green blinds, in striking contrast to the -high brick buildings that surrounded it. The frame -had been brought round Cape Horn in ’49, and, in -pioneer days, the place had been one of the most -fashionable boarding-houses in town. Chinatown -<span class='pageno' id='Page_107'>107</span>now crowded it in; it had fallen into disrepute, and -was visited only by the poorer class of foreigners. -Over the entrance was a sign bearing the inscription, -“Hotel de France.” Here the salesman had -a room.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The lower part of the house was dark, but in -answer to a prolonged ringing of the bell, a small -boy appeared and, with many comments in a <i><span lang="fr" xml:lang="fr">patois</span></i> -of the Bas Pyrenees, lighted two lamps in the barroom. -The three men sat down and took off their -coats and collars for comfort. James Wiswell -Coffin, 3d, opened the box of Panatelas and regarded -them with a sentimental eye.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He bit the end off the first cigar and struck a -match. Then he bowed to the company with the -theatrical air of a man about to touch off a loaded -bomb. “Gentlemen, I proceed to take my degree -of Bachelor of Nicotine, if I don’t flunk.” He lighted -the tobacco, quoting, “<i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">Ave, Caesar! Morituri te -salutant!</span></i>” and blew forth a ring of smoke. It -floated upward, smooth and even, hovered over his -head a moment like a halo, then, writhing, scattered -and drifted away. Coffin removed the cigar from -his mouth and looked thoughtfully at the ash.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It burns all right,” he said, “I won’t have to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_108'>108</span>put kerosene on ’em to make ’em go. D’you know -a Panatela always reminds me of a smart, tailor-made -girl. It’s the most slenderly beautiful shape -for a cigar; it’s gracile, by Jove, gracile and jimpriculate—I -got that word in Kentucky. But I chatter, -friends, I am garrulous. Besides I think I have -now said all I know, and it’s your edge, stranger. -How would it do for you to enliven the pink and -frisky watches of the night by narrating a few of -the more inflammable chapters of your autobiography?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Thus conjured by the imp, the stranger consented -to relate, after a few preliminaries, the following -tale:</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE RETURNED KLONDYKER</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>This is pretty near the finish, young fellow, -of the biggest spending jag this town ever saw. -The money cost me sixteen years of tramping -and trading and frozen toes, and then it came -slap, all in a bunch. So easy come, easy go, says I.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was breaking north, the year of the big find, -when I struck hard luck. That’s too long a yarn -<span class='pageno' id='Page_109'>109</span>to tell. But the end was that I landed two hundred -miles from Nowhere, cracked in the head from behind -and left for dead in the snow. The Malemute -that did it had his finish in Dawson that winter -by the rope route, spoiling the shot I was saving -for him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was stooping over, fixing a sled-runner, when—biff!... -I woke up in an Indian hut filled -with smoke. The whole works were buzzing round, -and a lot of big husky bucks and squaws grunting -over me. I was for getting up and cleaning -them out, but I hadn’t the strength. For a month -I was plum nutty. But every little while, when -my head cleared, I’d look up to see a good-natured -looking brown girl with black eyes taking -care of me as carefully as if she was a trained -nurse.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As I got over the fever slowly, I made out, she -telling me in Chinook, that she had found me half -frozen to death, and had carried me fifty miles by -sled. How she did it the Lord only knows. Maybe -it was because she was gone on me, which I -oughtn’t to say, neither, but she sure was. I did a -heap of thinking. She had grit and gentleness, and -the feelings of a lady, which is what every woman -<span class='pageno' id='Page_110'>110</span>that calls herself such hasn’t got, and the more I -saw of her the better I liked her. So when I got -well I had a pow-wow with her father, who was -chief of the tribe, and I bought her for ten dogs -on tick and my gun, which the durned thief had -forgot in the mix-up, and sixty tin tags I’d been saving -from plucks of tobacco to get a free meerschaum -pipe with. We were married Indian fashion, which -is pretty easy, and she came and lived with me in -my hut.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Since then I’ve had plenty of the stuff that’s -supposed to make a man happy, but I’m blowed if -I was ever happier than I was that winter, living -with the tribe and married to Kate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, that winter was over with at last. It came -spring, or what you might call such, with the ice -beginning to melt and the sun getting up for a little -while every day, lighter and lighter. One day Kate -and I went fishing. She pulled in her line and I -saw something that made me forget I was an -Indian, adopted into the tribe, all regular. Her -sinker was a gold nugget as big as the fist on a -papoose!</p> - -<p class='c000'>I knew it the minute I laid my eyes on it, -though it was all black with water and weather. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_111'>111</span>I grabbed it and cut it. It was as soft as lead, -reddish yellow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Where did you ever get that?” I said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Up by the Katakoolanat Pass,” she said, unconcerned-like, -as if it was pig-iron. “I picked it -up because it was heavy.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Can you find the place again?” I asked her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She studied a while. But the Indians never -forget anything. It’s book-learning that makes you -forget. I knew she’d remember before she got -through, and she did. She took her fish-line and -laid it out in funny curves and loops on the top of -the snow like a map, knotting it here and there to -show places she knew, mountain-peaks, lakes and -such-like. Then she pointed out the way with -her finger. She had it down fine. When she got -done she looked up to me with a grin and said: -“Why?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then it came to me all of a sudden that she had -no idea of the worth of her find. This was before -the big rush, and her tribe didn’t see white men -more than twice a year. Their regular hunting -grounds were far to the north. They traded skins -and dogs and fish once in a while with traders, -and got beads and truck in return. With the other -<span class='pageno' id='Page_112'>112</span>Indians they made change by strings of wampum -they call alligacheeks. She had no idea of the value -of gold, and she’d never seen a piece of money in -her life. But I didn’t stop to explain then.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come on,” I said, “we’re going to borrow dogs, -and sled north to the Katakoolanat country for -sure!” She never said a word, but packed up and -followed, the way she was trained to do.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We found the place the third day, just like she -said we would. Lord, that was a bonanza all right! -You could dig out nuggets with a stick. It was the -Katakoolanat diggings you may have heard about.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I had staked out my claims, two prospectors -got wind of it and started the rush. I got -our band to move up and help me hold my rights, -and when some Seattle agents offered me four hundred -thousand dollars for my claims, I took it, you -bet.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first thing I did after that was to pay back -a hundred dogs for the ten I had promised for Kate; -then I bought up all the provisions I could get -hold of—eggs a dollar apiece, bacon five dollars -a pound—and I fed our band of Indians till they -couldn’t hold any more. It was Kate brought me -the luck, and I felt the winnings were more hers -<span class='pageno' id='Page_113'>113</span>than mine. There wasn’t anything too good for -her. When a Scandihoovian missionary came up -to the place we went and got married white fashion, -for I wanted my wife to be respected, and -after that I always insisted that everybody should -call her Mrs. Saul Timney, which made her feel -about six foot high every time she heard it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, sir, Kate was a study in those times. She -couldn’t quite get it through her head for a good -while why we could put it over the rest of ’em the -way we did. The more I got for her, the more -puzzled she was. I recall the first time she ever -saw money passed. It was when I bought the -dogs. I was paying twenty-dollar gold pieces out -of a sack, and she asked me what they were. She -thought they were stones, because they looked more -than anything else like the flat, round pebbles she -had seen on the beach, the kind you throw to skip -on the water.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“They’re just all alligacheek,” I said; then, partly -for the joke on her, I said, “Good medicine (meaning -magic); you can get anything you want with -’em!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Give me some,” said Kate, not quite believing -me, for it was a pretty big story to swallow, according -<span class='pageno' id='Page_114'>114</span>to her ideas, so I handed her over a stack -of twenties.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She took them and went out to try the magic. -Going up to the first man she met, she held out the -whole lot to him, asking him for his slicker. When -I came up and said it was all right, he peeled it -right off and handed it over to her, grabbing the -money quick. That was a new one on her, and -she couldn’t quite believe it even then. Well, it was -funny to see the way she acted. She pretty near -bought up everything in camp she took a fancy to, -just for the fun of seeing the magic work, and she -was as excited as a kid with a brand new watch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We came out of the country finally, and took a -steamer for San Francisco, for I wanted to see the -old town again and show Kate what big cities -were like, besides giving her the chance to spend -all the money she wanted on togs and jewelry. -We drove up from the wharf in the best turn-out I -could find, and put up at the Palace Hotel in the -bridal suite. The best was none too good for Kate -and me while I was flush.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I rather guess we broke the record for spending, -the two weeks we stayed there. I had three or -four cases of champagne open in my room all the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_115'>115</span>time, and the bell-boys got so they knew they didn’t -have to be asked, but would just pop the cork and -let her fizz. I got a great big music-box that cost -more than a piano, with drums and bells inside, and -we kept it a-going while we were eating, which was -most of the time we weren’t out doing the town. I -blowed myself for an outfit of sparklers, which this -stone here in my shirt-front is the last, sole survivor. -I bought more clothes than I could wear out in ten -years.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Kate went me one better. Gee! She <em>did</em> have -a time! Of course, woman-like, though she was a -squaw, the first thing she thought about, after she -saw white ladies on the wharves, at Skagway, was -clothes. Mrs. Saul Timney had to dress the part, -and she was bound to do it if it half-killed her, -which it did. She bought a whole civilised outfit -of duds at the White House in ’Frisco, and got the -chambermaid to help her into ’em; that’s where -she got the first jolt. It wasn’t so easy as it looked. -She couldn’t walk in the high-heeled shoes they -wear here, and so she kept on moccasins. Corsets -she gave up early in the game. They didn’t show, -anyway, being inside. Finally she got a dressmaker -to rig her up a sort of a loose red dress that they -<span class='pageno' id='Page_116'>116</span>call a Mother Hubbard. Her favourite cover was an -ermine cape. She bought it because it cost more -than anything else in the fur store. She just splurged -on hats and bonnets. I reckon she had a new one -every day. The thing that tickled her most was -gloves, for her hands were good and little. She -wore white ones all the time. I s’pose it was because -she felt she looked more like an American -woman that way.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The swell togs she couldn’t wear she bought just -the same. We skated through town like a forest-fire, -me doing the talking and her the picking out. -She got darned near everything that I ever knew -women wore, and a big lot of others I never had -heard of.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every time she picked a thing, and pulled out the -yellow boys to pay for it her eyes stuck out. Of -course, not being used to doing business that way, it -looked to her like every clerk behind the counter was -her slave, all ready to give her anything she said. -She never got over her wonder at the “medicine -stones.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She had to stop in front of every jewelry store she -saw, too, but I couldn’t get her to buy anything worth -wearing. She just turned up her nose at diamonds -<span class='pageno' id='Page_117'>117</span>and rubies, but at the sight of a cheap string of beads -she went out of her head. She generally wore five -or six necklaces of ’em over her cape. Lord, I -didn’t care, and what she wanted, she got.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, after she’d let the money run away from -her for a couple of weeks, she got tired of the game -and kind of homesick. She begun to pine for cold -weather and ice and all, while I was just beginning -to enjoy the place. I tried to brace her up, and -thinking it might please her to hear the seals bark at -the Cliff House, we drove out there in a hack.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We were down to the “White House” store -one day, when I run slap into Flora Donovan, that -used to live next door to us in Virginia City. She -was only a kid when I went north. She’d grown -up into considerable of a woman now, but I knew -her. So I went up to her, and offered to shake -hands. She glared pretty hard till I told her who -I was and how money had come my way. It seems -her folks had struck it rich, too, and she had more -money than she knew what to do with.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Flora caught sight of Kate, staring at her, -behind me, she flopped up one of those spectacles -with handles, and her eyebrows went up at the same -time. She froze like an ice-pack. I allow the two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_118'>118</span>women didn’t look much alike, but I wouldn’t let -anybody snub my wife if I could help it, so I introduced -them, calling Kate Mrs. Saul Timney, the -way she liked to have me. Flora sprang something -about being “charmed,” and then said she had to be -going. Said she hoped I’d call, but nothing about -Kate, I noticed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I followed her off with my eyes, she was so pretty -and high-toned now, the first decent white woman -I’d talked to in years, and, honest—oh, well, hang it, -a man’s got no license to be ashamed of his wife, -but I don’t know—Kate did look kind of funny in -that red Mother Hubbard and the ermine cape and -straw hat, with moccasins and five strings of glass -beads—doggone it, I hated myself for being ashamed -of her, which I wasn’t, really, only somehow she -looked different than she did before.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I tried to get her away, but she stood stock-still -watching Flora, who had walked off down to the -cloak department at the end of the aisle. But if -Kate don’t want to move, all hell and an iceberg -can’t budge her, and I stood waiting to think how -I’d square myself with her, feeling guilty enough, -though I was just as fond of my wife as ever. All -of a sudden Kate made a break for the counter -<span class='pageno' id='Page_119'>119</span>where Flora Donovan was buying a cloak. The -clerks all knew Kate by this time, and the floorwalker -chap would come on the hop-skip-and-a-jump -and turn the shop upside down for her. So when -she came up behind Miss Donovan, and pointed to -three or four expensive heavy cloaks and threw out -a sack of double eagles to pay for ’em, letting the -clerk take out what he wanted, she had everybody -around staring at her, Flora included.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I could see well enough what was in Kate’s mind. -She had seen that I was just a little ashamed of her, -for some reason, and that Flora didn’t think she was -in her class. Kate wanted to show that she was the -real thing, and a sure lady, and the only way she -knew how to prove it was to beat Flora at buying. -Kate didn’t exactly want to put it over her, -she only wanted to make good as the wife of Saul -Timney.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Flora only said: “Your wife has very good -taste, Mr. Timney,” and sailed into the ladies’ underwear -corner. Kate stuck to her like a burr. -She was right at home there, and for about fifteen -minutes it seemed like all the cash-boys in the -world were running in and out packing away white -things, just like Kate was a fairy queen giving orders. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_120'>120</span>She laid down “medicine stones” on the counter -till the flim-flams and thingumbobs almost dropped -down off the shelves of themselves. I s’pose a man -really has no business to be in a place like that, but -I watched the two of ’em buy. Kate had actually -got Flora going, and both of ’em emptied their -sacks. Then Flora swept out, looking a hole -through me, but never saying a word. I’ve heard -afterward that Miss Donovan was pretty well -known to be close-fisted, and it must have hurt her -some to let go of all that money, just on account of -an Indian squaw. But the clerks behind the counter -nearly went into fits.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Kate came up to me and said, “I can buy more -things than she can, can’t I?” And I said, “Sure, -you can, Kate; you could buy her right out of -house and home!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She looked a little relieved then, but I saw she -was jealous, and the worst of it was, I’d given her -license to be. I tried to be as nice as I could, and -bought her another necklace, and took her to see -the kinetoscopes and let her look through the telescope -at the moon, but I saw she was still fretting -about Flora. That night I met a fellow from the -Yukon, and I left Kate at the hotel and made a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_121'>121</span>night of it. I went to bed with considerable of a -head, and when I woke up, toward noon, Kate -was gone. She didn’t show up till the next day -after that. I learned afterward what happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Kate started out bright and early to find Flora. -She had got into a black dress with spangles, patent-leather -shoes, and a hat as big as a penguin. She -carried with her all the cash we had at the hotel, -running into four figures easy. The shopping district -of San Francisco ain’t such a big place, after all, -and Kate and Flora only went to the best and -highest-priced stores, so it wasn’t long before they -met.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As far as I could find out, Kate didn’t have her -hatchet out at all, this trip, but she was just trying -to make up to Flora, and be nice to her and show -she was ready to get acquainted. You can guess -what happened. Flora tried to pass Kate, but -Kate just stood in the aisle like a house. It was -no use for Flora to try and snub her, for Kate -couldn’t understand the kind of polite slaps in the -face that ladies know how to give. The only thing -was to get rid of her, so Flora up and went out the -front door to her carriage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Kate followed her out to the sidewalk. When -<span class='pageno' id='Page_122'>122</span>Flora got in, Kate got in right alongside, grinning -all over, showing her sack of gold, and trying her -best to be as nice as she could. Flora was clean -flabbergasted. She didn’t want to make a holy -show of herself on the street by calling the police, -and so she told her driver to go home, as the best -way out of it. So they drove to Van Ness Avenue, -Flora throwing conniption fits, she was so mad, and -Kate smiling and talking Chinook, with her big hat -on one ear.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When they got to the house, Flora jumped out -and loped up the steps, blazing, and slammed the -door. Kate tried to follow, but her tight dress and -tight shoes were too much for her, and she fell -down. That got Kate’s mad up, and when Kate’s -good and mad she’s a mule. She banged at the -door, but no one opened. So she sat down on the -front doorstep to wait till Flora came out. You -know what Indians are. She was ready to wait -all night. She was used to nights six months long, -and a few hours in a San Francisco fog didn’t -worry her a bit. She took off her shoes, and -loosened her dress, and stuck to the mat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally Flora sent out one of the hired help to -drive Kate away. Kate pulled out one of her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_123'>123</span>“medicine stones” that she had always found would -work, and it worked all right. He went in with a -twenty-dollar gold piece and told all the rest of the -help, and they came out one by one and got twenties, -while Kate froze to the doorstep. Then -Flora telephoned for the police, and a copper came -up from the station to put Kate off the steps. He -stopped when she handed him the first twenty. -He put up his club when she brought out two -more, and went back, after telling the Donovans -he couldn’t exceed the law.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There she stayed till eight o’clock next morning, -but it finally got through her head that Flora would -never leave while she was there, so Kate decided -to hide out and lay for her. She went across the -street and sat down on the steps of the Presbyterian -church, a couple of blocks away, where she -drew a crowd of kids and nurse-girls, till the cop -on the beat came up and drove ’em away and collected -another pair of twenties.</p> - -<p class='c000'>About ten o’clock, Flora, thinking the coast -was clear, came out and got into her carriage. Kate -was ready for her, holding up her skirt in one -hand and her shoes in the other. The carriage -drove off and Kate fell in behind on a little trot. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_124'>124</span>You know how Indians run; they can keep it up -all day, and you can’t get away from ’em. Flora -saw her, and made the driver whip up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There they went, lickety-split, a swell turn-out, -with Flora yelling at the driver to go faster, and -about half a block behind poor old Kate, right in -the middle of the street, on the car-track, in dinkey -open-work silk stockings, with her shoes in one -hand, going like a steam-engine. Her hat fell off -as she crossed Polk Street, but Lord, she didn’t -care, she had barrels of ’em at the hotel. I guess -they had a clear street all the way. It must have -taken the crowd like a circus parade.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The police never caught on till they got to -Kearney Street, and there I was standing, looking -for my wife. A copper came out to nail her for a -crazy woman, but I got there first, and bundled her -into a hack.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When we got up to our rooms she was so queer -and strange that for a little while I didn’t know but -she had gone nutty, after all. She never said a -word till she had straightened up her dress and put -on her shoes and got out a new hat. Then she -stood in front of a big looking-glass. Finally she -turned loose on me.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_125'>125</span>“I want to be white and have a thin nose and a -little waist like an American woman. Where can -I get that? How many medicine stones will it take -to make me white?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, Kate,” I said, “don’t talk like that, old -girl. You are good enough for me. You can’t -buy all that, anyway.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then she said, “You don’t like me the way you -like that other woman. How many medicine -stones will it take to make me just as if I was -white?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course I told her I was just as fond of her as -ever, but she wouldn’t have it that way. She asked -me again how much money it would take, and I had -to tell her that the magic was no good for things -like that.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That seemed to kind of stun her, and she began -to mope and pine. She went back into her room -and puttered around some. I didn’t have the heart -to follow her and see what she was up to. When -she came out she had on her old loose dress and -her moccasins. Over her head was the same shawl -she wore when she came out of the Klondyke.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Give me my medicine stones,” she said to me. -“I want all of them!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_126'>126</span>She seemed to feel so sore, I went out and drew -two thousand dollars in twenties and brought ’em -to her in two sacks. She didn’t need to tell me -what was up. She was going back to her own -country and her own people. She was singing the -song of the tribe—“Death on the White Trail”—when -I came in. I was going to stay in ’Frisco. -That was what Kate wanted, and what Kate -wants she gets, every time, if I have the say-so.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It happened there was a steamer going next -morning, and Kate didn’t leave her room nor -speak to me till it was time to go down to the dock. -I got her ticket and paid the purser to take good -care of her. Even at the last we didn’t do much -talking—what was the use? We both understood, -and her people don’t waste words.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the boat started she stood on the upper -deck looking at me. Then, all of a sudden, she -opened her two sacks of coin and began to throw -the money by handfuls into the Bay, scattering it in -shower after shower of gold till it was all gone.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Well, sir, the Yukon’s the place after all. I’ve -blown in most all of my four hundred thousand, and -what have I got for it? Kate will wait for me, the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_127'>127</span>same way she waited for Flora Donovan. I’ve got -one little claim I hung on to when I sold out the -rest, and I’ve got the fever again. As soon as I’ve -had my fun out, and that won’t be long, I’ll make -for the snow country.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>And some day, when Kate comes in from the -fishing, she’ll crawl into her hut and find me there, -smoking by the fire.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So, with jest and story, the night wore on, and -James Wiswell Coffin 3d pulled steadily at -his cigars. He smoked nervously now, with -a ruthless determination to finish at any hazard. -More than once, in the early morning, he had to -snatch hastily at a biscuit and swallow it to keep -his gorge from rising at his foolhardy intemperance; -but he manfully proceeded with a courage induced -by the firm belief that if he failed, and attempted -to evade payment of his bet, this gentle, green-eyed -Klondyker would make him pay through the nose. -It is not safe, in the West, for a man to wager high -stakes with no assets. The youngster was by no -<span class='pageno' id='Page_128'>128</span>means sure of his endurance. Already the weeds -tasted vilely bitter and the fumes choked him pitifully, -but still his sallies and repartees covered his -fears as a shop-girl’s Raglan hides a shabby skirt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the watch, he had succeeded in smoking his -first cigar in eleven minutes. Keeping fairly well -to this pace, eight o’clock found him with but four -left in the box. Rather sallow, with a faded, set -grin, still puffing, still chaffing, the Harvard Freshman -was as cool as Athos under fire. The Klondyker -was as excited as a heavy backer at a six-days’-go-as-you-please. -The cigar-clerk had run -out of racy tales and conundrums.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last but three Panatelas remained.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here,” said the scion of the Puritans, “I -promised to smoke the whole box, didn’t I, and to -keep one lighted all the time? Well, I didn’t say -only one, and so I’m going to make a spurt and -smoke the last three at once.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Klondyker demurred, and it was left for -the cigar-salesman to decide. Coffin won. Making -a grimace, the young fool, with a dying gasp of -bravado, lighted the three, and while the others -looked on with admiration, puffed strenuously to -the horrid end. When the stumps were so short -<span class='pageno' id='Page_129'>129</span>that he could hardly hold them between his lips -the salesman pulled out a watch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Seven hours, twenty-three minutes and six -seconds—Coffin wins!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this the Harvard Freshman toppled and, -dropping prone upon the floor, felt so desperately, -so horribly, ill that for a while his nausea held him -captive. The room went round. After a while -he reeled to his feet and felt the cool touch of gold -that the Klondyker was forcing into his palm. The -ragged clouds of rotting smoke, the lines of bottles -behind the bar, and the sanded floor swam in a -troubled vision, and then his mind righted.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You were dead game all right, youngster,” the -Klondyker was saying. “I never thought you’d -see it through, but you earned your money. I’ll bet -you never worked harder for a salary, though!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin tried to smile, and drank a half pitcher of -water. “Gentlemen,” he said, solemnly, leaning -against the wall-paper, “one of life’s sweetest -blessings has faded. I have lost one of Youth’s -illusions. I shall never smoke again. There is -nothing left for me to do but join the Salvation -Army and knock the Demon Rum. My heart -feels like a punching-bag after Fitz has finished -<span class='pageno' id='Page_130'>130</span>practising with it, and my head is as light as a new-laid -balloon. As for the dark-brown hole where -my mouth used to be—brrrrrh! I move we pass -out for fresh air. Funny, it seems a trifle smoky -here! Wonder why. Come along and see me -skate on the sidewalk. I’m as dizzy as Two-step -Willie at the eleventh extra.” Then he patted the -double eagles in his hand. “Every one of you -little yellow boys has got to go out and get married, -I must have a big family by to-night!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Klondyker gasped. “For Heaven’s sake -you don’t mean to say you’re going to begin again? -You ought to be in the Receiving Hospital right -now. Can you think of anything crazier to do -after this? I’ll back you! I haven’t had so much -fun since I left the Yukon. You’re likely to tip -over the City Hall before night, if I don’t watch -you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, well, I can’t quite keep up this pace, -gentlemen,” said the cigar-clerk, “and I have to -open up the shop. I’ll look you up to-night at the -morgue!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He left hurriedly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Once outside, Coffin’s spirits rose. “I never -really expected to greet yon glorious orb again,” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_131'>131</span>he said. “Let’s climb up to Chinatown and get -rich.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Spending money is my mark; I’m a James P. -Dandy when it comes to letting go of coin. I’m -with you,” said the Klondyker. “Besides, I want -to see how long before our luck changes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Freshman led the way up past St. Mary’s -Church, without heeding the sacred admonition -graved below the dial: “<em>Son, observe the time and -flee from evil!</em>” a warning singularly apposite in -that scarlet quarter of the town. They passed up -the narrow Oriental lane of Dupont Street, the -Chinatown highway, and, as he pointed out the -sights, Coffin discoursed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“In the back of half these shops the gentle game -of fan-tan is now progressing. Moreover, there -are at least five lotteries running in the quarter that -I know of. To wit: the ’American,’ the ’Lum -Ki,’ the ’New York,’ the ’Ye Wah’ and the ’Mee -Lee Sing.’ I propose to buck the Mongolian tiger -in his Oriental lair and watch the yellow fur fly, -by investing a small wad in a ticket for the half-past-nine -drawing. I worked out a system last -night, while dallying with the tresses of My Lady -Nicotine, and I simply can’t lose unless my luck -<span class='pageno' id='Page_132'>132</span>has turned sour. I shall mark said ticket per -said inspiration, and drag down the spoils of war. -Kaloo, kalay, I chortle in my joy!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here, then, you let me in on that,” insisted -the Klondyker; “you keep your hundred and salt -it down. You play my money this shot, and I’ll -give you half of what’s made on it. You’re -a mascot to-day, and I’ve earned the right to use -you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right; then I agree to be fairy godmother -until the sun sets. But I muchly fear you’ll let the -little tra-la-loo bird out of the cage, with your great, -big, coarse fingers. Never mind, we’ll try it. Here -we are, now!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He paused in front of a smallish Chinese restaurant -on a side street. In the lower windows were -displayed groceries and provisions, raw and cooked, -and from the upper story a painted wooden fretwork -balcony projected, adorned with potted shrubs -and paper lanterns.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Behind this exhibition of split ducks, semi-pigs, -mud-packed eggs from the Flowery Realm, dried -abalones, sugar-cane from far Cathay, preserved -watermelon-rind, candied limes, li-chi nuts, chop -suey, sharks’ fins, birds’ nests, rats, cats, and rice-brandy, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_133'>133</span>punks, peanut-oil, and passionate pastry, -lurks the peaceful group that makes money for you -while you wait. Above, in red hieroglyphs, you -observe the legend, ’Chin Fook Yen Company.’ -This does not indicate the names of the several -members of the firm, as is ordinarily supposed, -but it is the touching and tempting motto, ’Here -Prosperity awaits Everybody, all same Sunlight!’ -In the days of evil tidings I once made a bluff at -being a Chinatown guide. It is easy enough; but -I am naturally virtuous, and I was not a success -with the voracious drummer and the incredulous -English globe-trotter. But I picked up a few friends -amongst the Chinks, as you’ll see.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They entered, to find a small room, from the centre -of which a brass-stepped staircase rose to the -floor above. On one side of this office was a counter, -behind which sat a fat, sleek Chinaman, industriously -writing with a vertical brush in an account-book, -pausing occasionally to compute a sum upon -the ebony beads of an abacus. He looked up and -nodded at Coffin, and, without stopping his work, -called out several words in Chinese to those upstairs. -The two went past the kitchens on the second floor -to the top story, where several large dining-rooms, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_134'>134</span>elaborately decorated in carved wood and colored -glass windows, stretched from front to rear. In one -room a group of men, seemingly Eastern tourists, -were seated on teakwood stools at a round table, -drinking tea and nibbling at sugared confections distributed -in numerous bowls. Expatiating upon the -wonders of the place was what seemed to be one -of the orthodox Chinatown guides, pointing with his -slim rattan cane, and smoking a huge cigar.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin led the way to a back room, and, looking -carefully to see if he were observed, knocked three -times at an unobtrusive door. Immediately a silken -curtain at the side was raised, disclosing a window -guarded by a wire screen. In an instant it was -dropped again and the door was opened narrowly. -Coffin pushed his friend through, and they found -themselves in a square, box-like closet or hallway. -Here, another door was opened after a similar signal -and inspection by the look-out, and they passed -through.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Inside this last barrier was a large room painted -a garish blue. About a table in the centre several -Chinamen were assembled, and doors were opening -and shutting to receive or let out visitors. At a -desk in the corner was sitting a thin-faced merchant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_135'>135</span>with horn spectacles and long drooping white mustaches. -To him Coffin went immediately and shook -hands. Then he explained something of the workings -of the lottery to the Klondyker. It was decided -to buy a fifteen-dollar ticket, and they received a -square of yellow paper where, within a border, were -printed eighty characters in green ink. Above was -stamped in red letters the words “New York Day -Time.” The price was written plainly across the -face.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now, I’ll mark it,” said Coffin. “You can -mark a ’high-low’ system that is pretty sure to win, -but it’s too difficult for me—I was never much of a -Dazmaraz at the higher mathematics. So I’ll play -a ’straight’ ticket. That is: I mark out ten spots -anywhere I please. There are twenty winning -numbers, and on a fifteen-dollar ticket if I catch five -of them I get thirty dollars; six pays two hundred -and seventy dollars, seven pays twenty-four hundred -dollars, and eight spots pull down the capital prize. -If more than one ticket wins a prize the money is -divided <i><span lang="la" xml:lang="la">pro rata</span></i>, so we don’t know what we win till -the tickets are cashed in, downstairs in the office.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He took a brush and marked his ten spots, five -above and five below the centre panel, and handed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_136'>136</span>it to the manager, who wrote his name in Chinese -characters down the margin. There was just time -for this when the ceremony of drawing the winning -numbers began. The manager brought out a cylindrical -bamboo vessel and placed in it the eighty -characters found on the tickets, each written on a -small piece of paper and rolled into a little pill or -ball. Then he looked up at the Klondyker.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You likee mix ’em up?” he asked. The -stranger assented, and, having stirred up the pellets, -was gravely handed a dime by the treasurer of the -company.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The pellets were then drawn forth, one by one, -and placed in four bowls in rotation till all were -disposed of. The manager now nodded to Coffin, -who came up to the table. “You shake ’em -dice?” said the Chinaman. Coffin nodded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You see this die?” he explained to the Klondyker. -“It’s numbered up to four, and the number -decides which bowl contains the lucky numbers -on the ticket. Here goes! <em>Three!</em>”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The third bowl was accordingly emptied, and -the numbers on the pellets of rolled paper were -read off and entered in a book. The Chinese now -began to show signs of excitement. Tickets were -<span class='pageno' id='Page_137'>137</span>produced from the pockets of their dark blouses -and were scanned with interest as the winning numbers -were called out one by one. They crowded -to the shoulder of the manager as he unfolded the -pellets, and jabbered unintelligible oaths and blessings -as the characters were revealed. Coffin -beckoned to one who appeared to have no investment, -and showed him the joint ticket, asking him -to point out the spots as they were read. The first -five were unmarked, but then to their delight the -long nail of the Chinaman’s finger pointed to three -spots in succession. In another minute two more -marked characters won, and then, after a series of -failures, the last two numbers read proved to be -Coffin’s selection. The Chinaman’s eyes snapped, -and he cried out a few words, spreading the news -over the room. In an instant the two white men -were surrounded, and a babel of ejaculations -began.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What the devil does it mean? Do we win?” -asked the Klondyker.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do we win! Can a duck swim? We’ve -got seven lucky spots! Twenty-four hundred dollars, -if we don’t have to divide with some son of a -she-monkey!” and Coffin, grabbing his hat in his -<span class='pageno' id='Page_138'>138</span>right hand, pranced about the room and began on -the Harvard yell.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chinamen, shocked at the noise, and in imminent -fear of attracting attention to the illegal enterprise, -had grabbed him and stifled his fifth -“Rah!” when, suddenly, with a hoarse yelp, the -watchman at the look-out burst into the room, giving -the alarm for a raid of the police, and threw -two massive oaken bars across the iron door. In an -instant the tickets, pellets, and books were swept into -a sack, and the men scattered in all directions, sweeping -down tables and over chairs to escape arrest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Run for your life, or we’ll get pulled!” Coffin -called out to the Klondyker, who still held the ticket -in his hand, and he made a break for one of the -blue doors. It was slammed in his face by a retreating -scout. “Over here!” the Klondyker -cried, setting his foot to another door and forcing it -open. By this time the outer barrier at the entrance -from the restaurant had been forced, and the -police began with crowbars and sledge-hammers at -the inner door. Coffin ran for the exit, but stumbled -and fell across a chair, striking his diaphragm -with a shock that knocked the wind from his lungs. -For fully a minute he lay there writhing, without -<span class='pageno' id='Page_139'>139</span>the power to move, gasping vainly for breath. The -blows on the door were redoubled in energy, and -of a sudden the wooden bars split and gave way, -the lock shot off into the room, the hinges broke -through the woodwork jambs, and the door toppled -and fell. It was now too late for the Freshman -to escape; a dozen men jumped into the room -and seized him with the few Chinamen left. To -his dazed surprise the attacking party was the very -same group of men he had taken for Eastern tourists -as he entered, now evidently plain-clothes detectives -who had been cunningly disguised to escape -suspicion.</p> - -<p class='c000'>These, after their prisoners had been handcuffed, -ran here and there, dragging more refugees by their -queues in bunches from adjoining rooms and halls, -but most had made good their escape through the -many secret exits, hurrying, at the first warning, to -the roof, to underground passages in the cellar, -through the party walls to other buildings.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the last man had been secured, the crestfallen -captives were taken downstairs, loaded into -two patrol-wagons, and driven to the California -Street Station. The Klondyker was not among -their number.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_140'>140</span>As the Freshman was searched and his hundred -dollars taken and sealed in an envelope with his -name, the booking-sergeant told him that if he -wished to deposit cash bail with the bond-clerk at -the City Hall he would be released. He might -send the money by a messenger, who would return -with his certificate of bail.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“How much will it be?” Coffin asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“One hundred, probably.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then I can’t pay a messenger, for that’s exactly -all I have with me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, well,” said the sergeant, looking at him -indulgently, “there’s an officer going up to the Hall -on an errand, and coming back pretty soon. I’ll -get him to take up your money, if you want.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chinamen were put into a cell together, and -Coffin was locked in a separate compartment containing -a single occupant, a weazened little man -with a chin beard, wearing a pepper-and-salt suit. -At the irruption of visitors, there arose from the -women’s cell an inhuman clamor, raised by two -wretched creatures. They shrieked like fiends of -the pit wailing in mockery at the spirits of the -damned. Coffin put his hands to his ears.</p> - -<p class='c000'>His new companion regarded him with a watery -<span class='pageno' id='Page_141'>141</span>blue eye. “All-fired nuisance, ain’t it? Gosh, -they yelp like seals at the Cliff House! I wish the -sergeant would turn the hose on ’em. I would. -They go off every twenty minutes, like a Connecticut -alarm-clock. Never mind, we’ll get out of this -soon. What were you pulled for?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin narrated his adventures in Chinatown.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, you’re all right, then, it’s just a periodical -spasm of virtue by the police. But I’m in for it. -They’re goin’ to sock it to me, by Jiminy!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s the matter?” Coffin asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The little Yankee crept over to the Freshman’s -ear and whispered mysteriously, “Grand larceny! -They ain’t charged me with it yet, but they’re holdin’ -me till they can collect evidence. And me a -reformed man. I’m a miserable sinner, but I’ve -repented, and I’ve paid back everything to the last -cent!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>His confession, which was becoming per-fervent, -was here interrupted by a policeman who was looking -through the cells. “Hello, Eli,” he said, with -a sarcastic grin, “back again? I thought it was -about time!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Say, what’s our little blue-eyed friend been up -to, officer?” the Freshman inquired.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_142'>142</span>The man laughed. “Vagrancy, of course. Just -look at him. Ain’t he got the eye of a grafter? We -find him begging on the street every little while, but -he’ll get off with a reprimand. He always has plenty -of money on him. He’s nutty. Crazy as a hatter, -ain’t you, Eli?” He laughed again and passed on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did you hear that?” cried the little man, angrily. -“He pretends I ain’t up for felony, but I am, though -they can’t prove it. It’s persecution, that’s what it -is. I don’t mind the fine for vagrancy, but I’m -afraid if I have to go to jail I’ll lose my car.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lose your car!” said Coffin, amused at the little -old man’s vagaries. “You don’t think a street-car -will wait for you while you’re bailed out, do you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mine will,” Eli replied. “That is, if it ain’t -stolen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Stolen! Gee Whizz, you’re an Alice in Wonderland, -all right! Perhaps you will inform me -how they steal street-cars in San Francisco, and -how you happen to have one to be stolen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I see you don’t believe it,” said the Yankee. -“But it’s as true as Gospel. I’ll tell you the whole -story and then you’ll think better of me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So saying, he fastened his watery blue eyes upon -the Freshman and gave him the history of his life.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_143'>143</span> - <h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE RETIRED CAR-CONDUCTOR</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I was born and brought up in Duxbury, Massachusetts, -and I had a close call to escape bein’ -named Wrestling Brewster, one of my mother’s -family names. My father voted for just plain Eli -Cook, howsomever, and dad most always generally -won. It might have made considerable difference to -me, maybe, for as it was, whether from my name or -nature, I rather took after my father, who was no -mortal good. Father was what Old Colony folks -call “clever,” just a shif’less ne’er-do-well, handy -enough when he got to work, but a sort of a Jack-of-all-trades -and master of none. Never went to -church, fished on Sundays, smoked like a chimney -and chewed like a cow, easy to get on with and -hard to drive—no more backbone than a clam, -my mother used to say. And what he was, I am, -with just enough Brewster in me to make me repent, -but not enough to hinder me from going astray.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I come out here to Californy in ’49, and hoofed it -most all the way. I calculated to get rich without -workin’, but I reckoned without my host. I looked -for somethin’ easy till I got as thin as a yaller dog, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_144'>144</span>and for twenty year I held on that way by my eyelids, -pickin’ up odd jobs and loafin’ and whittlin’ -sticks in between times. Then I got a place as -driver on the Folsom Street hoss-car line, and that’s -where I made my fortune by hook or crook, till I -retired.</p> - -<p class='c000'>If I’d had a drop more Brewster blood I wouldn’t -have did what I did, but I kind of fell into the way -of piecin’ out my salary the way every one else did -who worked for the company, and my conscience -didn’t give me no trouble for a considerable spell. It -was only stealin’ from a corporation, anyway, and -I reckoned they could afford it, with the scrimpin’ -pay they give us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In them days the company ran them little double-ender -cars with ten-foot bodies. When I got to -the end of the route and drove my team round and -hitched up at t’other end, I had to take out the old -Slawson fare-box and set it up in front, for they -didn’t have no conductors in early days. I s’pose -I kind of hated to carry such a load of money, bein’ -more or less of a shirk, and I got into the way of -turning her upside down and shakin’ out a few -nickels every time. They come out easy, I’ll say -that for ’em, and it wa’n’t no trick at all to clean up -<span class='pageno' id='Page_145'>145</span>a dollar or so every day, and twice as much on -Sundays.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, so long as all the boys was a-doin’ the -same thing, the loss wa’n’t noticed, but somehow or -other the company got a few honest men on the -line, and they turned in so much more money than -we did every night that the old man smelled a -mouse. He put in the new Willis patent fare-box -that was durned hard to beat. It had a little three-cornered -wheel inside that acted like a valve, and -nothin’ that went in would come out, either by turnin’ -the box upside down, or by usin’ the wire -pokers we experimented with. They wa’n’t nothin’ -for it but to git keys, and so keys we got. It looked -a heap more like stealin’ than it did before, but it -was rather easier. Some of the boys was caught -at it, but as luck would have it, nobody never suspected -me, and I took out my little old percentage -regular as a faro dealer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I salted down my money in the Hibernia Bank, -and I called it my sinkin’ fund, which it was for sure -sinkin’ my soul down deeper and deeper into the -bottomless pit. I’m a-goin’ to make a clean breast of -it, howsomever, and I own up I was about as bad as -the rest of ’em, and four times as sharp at the game.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_146'>146</span>After a while the system was improved, and the -company got new rollin’ stock with all two-horse -cars. I was a conductor then, and I ran on No. 27 -till I was off the road. The Gardner punch was -my first experience in knockin’ down fares right in -the face and eyes of everybody, and I had figgered -a way to “hold out” long before I had the nerve to -try it. But Lord! it was as easy as fallin’ off a log, -when you knew how. You see, we sold a five-coupon -ticket for a quarter, and we had to slice off -a section for every fare, with a candle-snuffer arrangement, -the check droppin’ into a little box on the -under jaw of the nippers. All we had to do was -to “build up” on ’em. You held back a lot of -clipped tickets, with two or three or four coupons -left, as the case might be, and you kept ’em underneath -the bunch of regular tickets for sale. Say a -man handed you a whole ticket for two fares. You -made a bluff at cuttin’ it, and handed him back a -three-coupon ticket from underneath your rubber -band. You kept his whole one for yourself, and -sold it to the next passenger for two bits.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, Jim Williams was caught red-handed, and -Gardner’s system went to Jericho. Next they -sprung the regular bell-punch on us, the kind you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_147'>147</span>“punch in the presence of the passenjaire.” We -had no trouble with that. They was a dummy -palm-bell manufactured almost simultaneous, and -we’d ring up fares without punchin’ at all. The -breastplate registers was worked similar, with a bell -inside your vest connected with a button. It was -as easy as pie, providin’ nobody watched the numbers -on the indicator while you was ringin’ up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I left the road before they adopted the stationary -registers or clock machines. I admit they’re ingenious, -but still I ain’t got no doubt that, given a -good big crowd and no spotters, I could manage to -make my expenses with the rest of the boys.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But I won’t go round Robin Hood’s barn to spin -out the story. The result was that after about fifteen -years of patient, unremittin’ industry, I had -somethin’ like $12,000 in the bank, and what was -left of my New England conscience shootin’ through -me like rheumatism. It didn’t bother me so much -at first, but when once Brewster blood begins to boil -it don’t slow up in a hurry. Eli Cook didn’t seem -to care a continental, but they was a whole lot of -Pilgrim Fathers behind me that was bound to testify -sooner or later.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I tried to settle down and get into some quiet -<span class='pageno' id='Page_148'>148</span>business, where I wouldn’t have no more trickery to -do than maybe put a little terra alba in the sugar and -peanuts in the coffee. But after lookin’ round I -hankered after makin’ money easier, and so I bought -minin’ stocks and hung on, assessment after assessment, -like grim Death, till, by Jimminy! one -day I’ll be durned if I didn’t calculate I had $30,000 -to the good, if I sold. I pulled out the day before -the slump. I don’t know why Providence favored -my fortune, which was so wickedly come by, -and I don’t know why, after doin’ so well, I didn’t -have spunk enough to pay back the company, but, -anyhow, I wa’n’t yet waked up to feel full consciousness -of sin, and I shut my ears to the callin’ to repentance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now, all this time, bein’ of a South Shore family -of seafaring men mostly, I had a hankerin’ after the -water. So, when the first lots was cut up, out to -the Beach, I bought a parcel of land on the shore. -I used to go out there all the time to sit on my own -sand, and recollect how it used to feel to get a good -dry heat on my bare legs when I was a boy down -to Duxbury. If they had only been clams there, I’d -have been as happy as a pollywog in a hogshead of -rain water.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_149'>149</span>One day I was walkin’ out there, and as I passed -the company’s stables I see a sign out, “Cars for -Sale, Cheap,” and I went in to see ’em. I speered -round the yard till what did I see but old 27, my -car, settin’ there without wheels, lookin’ as shabby -as Job’s cat! I asked the foreman how much they -wanted for it, and I got it for ten dollars. I hired -a dray and moved the thing out to the Beach that -very afternoon. I set it up on two sills on my lot, -calculatin’ I could use it for a cabin to hang out in, -over Sunday, and it was as steady as Plymouth -Rock, and made as cute a little room as you’d -want to see. Every time I went I tinkered round -and fixed her up more, till I had a good bunk at -one end, lockers under the seats, and a trig little -cellar beneath, where I kept canned stuff.</p> - -<p class='c000'>’Twa’n’t long before I regularly moved out there -and stayed for good. Just from force of habit, I -expect, at first, I rung two bells every time I got on, -and one bell before I got off, and I always keep it -up, just as if the old car was really on the rails. I -never went in and set down but I felt as if No. 27 -was poundin’ along toward Woodward’s Gardens, -with the hosses on a jog trot. Sometimes when the -rain was drivin’ down and the wind blowin’ like all -<span class='pageno' id='Page_150'>150</span>possessed, and it was pitch dark outside, with the -surf rollin’, I’d put down my pipe and go out on the -platform, and set the brake up just as tight as I -could. I don’t know why, but it kind of give me a -sense of security.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It wa’n’t long before I begun to feel a positive -affection for that old car, what with the years I’d -spent on it, and livin’ ’way out there to the Beach -alone with nothin’ to think about but the way I’d -robbed the company. No. 27 was more like a pet -dog than a house. You can talk about ships bein’ -like women, and havin’ queer ways and moods, but -you go to work and take an old car, and it’s more -like folks than a second cousin; and it’s got sense -and temper, I’m persuaded of that.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it wa’n’t long before No. 27 begun to act -queer. I noticed it a considerable spell before I -realized just what was wrong. It wouldn’t stay still -a minute. It groaned and sighed like a sinner on -the anxious seat. I couldn’t ease it any way I tried. -It worked off the sills, and just wallowed in the -sand. The sand drifts like snow at the Beach, and -often I used to have to dig myself out the door after -a sou’wester. I didn’t mind bein’ alone so much, -for I had a book of my Uncle Joshua Cook’s sermons -<span class='pageno' id='Page_151'>151</span>to read, but the way that old car talked to -itself got on my nerves. The windows rattled, and -sometimes a shutter would fall with a bang, sudden, -and I’d jump half out of my skin. Then, too, that -stealin’ was preyin’ on my mind, and I couldn’t help -harpin’ on it. They was a Slawson fare-box still -on the front of the car, and finally I got to goin’ in -t’other way to avoid it. Then the green light got -to watchin’ me, and I begun to drink, for I felt the -full qualms of the unrighteous, and the car itself -seemed to know it was defiled by my sin.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally, one night, I come home from the Cliff -House, where I’d been warmin’ up my courage, -and when I got back to No. 27 I see the green -lantern I’d left lit was a burnin’ low, almost out. I -got up on the platform and tried to ring two bells -as usual, but the cord broke in my hands. I tried -the door, but it wouldn’t budge. That blamed -car just naturally refused to recognize me, and -wouldn’t let me in. Then I sat down in the sand -and cried like a fool, and wondered what was -wrong.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It bust on me like a light from the sky, and the -callin’ of a sinner to repentance, sayin’, “Come -now, this is the appointed time.” All I’d done in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_152'>152</span>the old days rose up in front of me, and right there -I experienced a change of heart and was convicted -of sin. It come sudden, and I acted sudden. I -didn’t stop to think nor reason, nor to set my -mortal mind against the judgment of Heaven and -that car, but I rose up confident of grace, and -went round to the front platform where the fare-box -was, and dropped in a nickel and tried the -bell. The cord wa’n’t broke on this side, and -she rung all right. The light flared up again, and -the door opened as easy as a snuff-box. I was -saved.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From that time on I never got aboard without -payin’ my fare, and when the box was full I’d -turn it over to the treasurer of the company. Of -course I might have drawn out my money in the -bank and paid it all up at once, but it seemed to -me that this means was shown me, so that I would -be reminded of my wickedness every day and keep -in the road of repentance. But even then, sometimes -I backslid and fell from grace when I -emptied out the box. Some of the money would -stick to my fingers, and it seemed as if I couldn’t -stop stealin’ from the company. But afterward -I’d repent and put in a quarter or even a half -<span class='pageno' id='Page_153'>153</span>dollar for my fare to make up, and in that way I -went on tryin’ to lead a better life, and keep in the -straight and narrer road of salvation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, I thought then that No. 27 would settle -down and give me some peace of mind, but it -wa’n’t long before that car begun to get uneasy -again. I didn’t know what in creation to make of -it, and it beat all the way it took on. I drew out -$5,000 of good securities that was payin’ nine per -cent. and sent it all in gold coin packed in a barrel -of barley to the company, but that didn’t do no -good at all. The car was plum crazy, and nothin’ -seemed to satisfy the critter.</p> - -<p class='c000'>No. 27 settled and sobbed and sighed like a -fellow that’s been jilted by a flirt. They wa’n’t -no doin’ nothin’ with it. I puttered over it and -tightened all the nuts, but it snivelled and whined -like a sick pup every time the wind blew. When -the fog come in, the drops of water stood on the -window panes like tears, and every gale made the -body tremble like a girl bein’ vaccinated. The -old car must be sick, I thought, and I greased all -the slides and hinges with cod-liver oil. The thing -only wheezed worse than ever. I thought likely it -might be just fleas, for the sand is full of ’em, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_154'>154</span>I sponged the cushions with benzine. It wa’n’t no -more use than nothin’ at all!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Perhaps I ain’t got no call to boast, but I flatter -myself I found out what was lackin’ as soon as -most would have done. Howsomever, I spent a -good deal of time walkin’ round the Beach thinkin’ -it over. They’s quite a colony of us out there now; -seemed like my car drew out a lot of others, until -they’s more than a baker’s dozen of ’em scattered -around, built up and managed in different ways, -accordin’ to the ideas of their owners. Some h’ist -’em up and build a house underneath, some put -two alongside and rip out the walls, some put ’em -end to end, some make chambers of ’em and some -settin’-rooms. They call the colony Carville-by-the-Sea, -and it looks for all the world like some -new-fangled sort of Chinatown.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was walkin’ round one day, inspectin’ the new -additions to the place, when I see a car I thought -I recognised. I went up, and if it wa’n’t a Fifth -Street body, and as far as I could see, it must have -been the very one old 27 used to transfer with in -the old days! It was numbered 18, and I remembered -how she used to wait for us on the -corner when we was late. Then I understood -<span class='pageno' id='Page_155'>155</span>what was the matter with my car. It was just -naturally pinin’ away for its old mate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, sir, I went to the owner and bought No. -18 at his own price. I’d have paid twenty-five -dollars if he’d asked it. I moved her onto my lot, -put a foundation under her, sideways to 27, like -an ell to a farm-house. And it seemed to me I -noticed old 27 give a grunt and settle down in -peace and contentment. I was a good guesser. I -hitched ’em together with a little stoop, covered -over so as to make the two practically one, and -then I give the whole thing a fresh coat of white -paint, and cleaned up the windows and swept out -till it was all spick and span. And I never had -no trouble with No. 27 after that, nor with my -own conscience neither, for now the money’s all -paid back with interest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, sir, maybe you won’t believe it, and maybe -you will, but about a year after the two was hitched -together a funny thing happened. One day morning -I went outdoors, and see something on the sand -beside No. 18. My eyes stuck out like a fifer’s -thumb when I recognised what it was. It was a -plum new red wheelbarrow!</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_156'>156</span> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VII<br /> <span class='large'>THE EX-MEDIUM’S ADVENTURE: THE INVOLUNTARY SUICIDE</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Warmed by his copious draughts of wine, -stimulated by the comradeship of his fellow-adventurers, -and his stomach packed -to the top corner with rich foods, Professor Vango -left Coffee John’s, rejoicing in a brave disregard for -the troubles that had been for so long pursuing -him. His superstitious terrors had subsided, and -for a while he was a man again.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Clay Street was empty, and stretched black and -narrow to the water-front. Below him lay the -wholesale commercial quarter of the town with its -blocks of deserted warehouses, silent and dark. It -was a part of San Francisco almost unknown to -the ex-medium, and now, at midnight, obscure and -bewildering, a place of possibilities. He was for -adventures, and he decided to seek them in the -inscrutable region of the docks.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He stepped boldly down the street, but it was -not long before the echoes of his footsteps struck -<span class='pageno' id='Page_157'>157</span>him chill with dread. The packing-cases upon the -curb cast shadows where fearsome things might -lurk. He began to watch with a roving eye the -crossings and alleys, from which some form might -come upon him unawares, and he cast sharp glances -over his shoulder for the appearance of the spirit -that had cowed him. The thought of Mrs. Higgins -brought him back to his old torture. He felt -as though she were always round the next corner.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had almost reached East Street, when he -yielded to his qualms and bolted into the warmth -and light of the Bowsprit Saloon to drown his forebodings -in two schooners of steam beer. So disappeared -Coffee John’s luck-dime, and with it the -stimulating effects of his exordium. Vango’s short -glow of comfort was, however, but a respite, for -shortly after midnight the bar closed, and he was -sent forth again into the perilous night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He was pacing up and down the stone arcade -of the Ferry Building, dismally anticipating the prospect -of walking the city streets alone with his curse, -when it occurred to him that he might possibly -make his way to Oakland. Oakland was less -strenuous; it was calm, sober, respectable, free -from the distressing torments of San Francisco. -<span class='pageno' id='Page_158'>158</span>Many a time he had met Mrs. Higgins upon the -dock behind the waiting-room, and he knew the -way well. He dodged slyly up the wagon-track, -round the corner of the baggage-room, to the slip -where the steamer Piedmont was waiting to set out -on her last trip. As he came to the apron a few -belated commuters were running for the boat. He -joined them without being observed, and was hurried -aboard by a warning from the deck-hands. -Just as he reached the bib the bridge was drawn -up, the hawsers cast off, and with a deep roaring -whistle the vessel started, gathered way, and, urged -by the jingle-bell, shot out of the slip into the waters -of the Bay.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The crowds went forward, upstairs, to the protection -of the cabin, but Professor Vango stayed by -the after-rail alone, where a chain was stretched -across the open stern. A ragged mist lay upon the -harbour, hanging to the surface of the water like a -blanket, torn open sometimes by a passing gust of -wind and closing up to a thicker fog beyond. -High in the air, it was clearer, and the stars shone -bright.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The thumping paddle-wheels, the phosphorescent -waves, and the fey obscurity of the night wrought -<span class='pageno' id='Page_159'>159</span>heavily upon Vango’s emotion, and the fumes of -alcohol mingled in his brain. He was not happy; -things went round a bit, and he had hard work -controlling his thoughts. He longed for the gay -cheerfulness of the saloon above, but he felt a need -of the sharp night air to revive him, first. He -watched the stairway suspiciously, feeling sure that -the ghost of Mrs. Higgins, if she were to appear, -would come that way.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In point of fact, a woman did soon descend from -the upper deck, and stood at the bottom of the -stairs in some uncertainty, gazing about her. She -was a heavy, middle-aged blonde, in a long black -cape and veil, the type of a thousand weak, impressionable -widows, and, in the dusk, through the -glaze of Vango’s eyes, a passable counterfeit of the -late lamented Mrs. Higgins. She soon perceived -him, and came forward a few steps, while he retreated -as far away, putting her off with futile gestures. -Curious at this exhibition, the woman walked -up to him with a question on her lips.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was, in all probability, in search of nothing -more than a glass of water, but the medium had -no more than time to hear, “Tell me where—” -before he had mentally completed the inquiry for -<span class='pageno' id='Page_160'>160</span>her. “Where—where is Lilian?” she meant, of -course. Appalled, he had jumped over the chain -in the stern, and as she approached with that -demand piercing his conscience-stricken soul, he -shrank back unconsciously. The first step carried -him to the extreme end of the boat, the second led -him, with a splashing fall, into the Bay. The -waters closed over him, and the steamer swept on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he came to the surface, spluttering but -sober at last in the face of a new and more tangible -danger, he heard the rising staccato of a -woman’s shriek, and saw a pyramid of lights fading -into the fog. Then he sank again, and all was -cold, black, and wet.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>He rose to the surface in a space clear of mist, -dimly lighted by a wisp of moon. A few feet -away a fruit-crate bobbed upon the waves in the -steamer’s wake, and for this he swam. By placing -it under his body, he found he could float well -enough to keep his nose out of water, tolerably -secure from drowning, for a time at least.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The mist closed in upon him, was swept asunder, -and shut down again. The current was bearing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_161'>161</span>him toward the harbour entrance he decided, and, -as he had fallen overboard about opposite Goat -Island, he must by this time be in the fairway, drifting -for the Golden Gate and the Pacific. He -might, if his endurance held out, catch sight of some -ship anchored in the stream, and hail her crew. -But no lights appeared, and he grew deathly cold -and stiff.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In Professor Vango’s ears the sobbing of the -siren on Lime Point was lulling him to a sleep -that promised eternal forgetfulness, and the Alcatraz -Island bell was tolling grewsomely of his passing, -when his senses were aroused by a brisker -note that came in quick, padded beats through the -fog. He summoned his drowsy wits for a last -effort, and gazed into the gloom. Suddenly, piercing -the cloudy curtain drawn about him, came a -small launch, stern on, churning its way at full -speed straight at him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In another moment it would have sped past him, -to be swallowed up in the darkness again, but, -with a mighty struggle, he threw himself at the -boat, and, dodging the whirling propeller, clutched -the rail with a violence that made the craft careen. -It dipped as if to throw him off, but Vango held on -<span class='pageno' id='Page_162'>162</span>and screamed hoarsely for help. No reply came -from the boat, nor was anybody to be seen in it, -so at last he made shift to climb aboard and reach -the cock-pit.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The vapour and darkness lay about him like a -pall, muffling even the outlines of the boat itself; -no lights were burning aboard. Shivering, perplexed, -terrified, but grateful for his preservation, -and wondering where his fate had led him, the Professor -started on a further examination of the launch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He had taken but a few steps, when his foot -struck a soft something extended upon the floor. -His teeth chattered with fear as he groped down -and made it out to be a human form. That it was -a woman, he discovered by the long hair that had -overflowed her shoulders in crisp waves, and a -touch of her body showed that she was alive. He -lifted her to a sitting posture on the seat, then -loosened her dress at the neck, and chafed her -wrists and temples. Her breath soon came in -gasps; she sighed heavily and sat erect, with a -shudder. She gazed into his face in the dimness, -then cast her eyes over the boat and fell to weeping.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So, for some time, the launch, carrying its two -wretched passengers, and what more Vango dared -<span class='pageno' id='Page_163'>163</span>not guess, plunged on insanely through the fog. -The medium knew nothing of practical affairs; -psychology was his art, and chicanery his science; -but even had he been mechanic enough to stop and -reverse the engine in the dark, it would have taken -a considerable acquaintance with the Bay of San -Francisco to have set and kept any logical course -in such a night. Wrapped in a tarpaulin which -he found by him, under which his dripping form -shivered in misery, the unhappy man sat, baffled, -mystified, hopeless, too beat about in his mind even -to wonder. The woman cried on and the propeller -kept up its rhythmic thud, thud, thud, dragging -the little vessel where it would.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Suddenly the swing of the choppy sea flung the -woman at full length across the seat and brought -her to her senses. She arose, now, and scanned -the fog, then peered curiously at the medium, who -was silent from very terror.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Where are we? Where, in Heaven’s name, -did you come from?” she cried, sharply, and she -approached him with a searching gaze.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Trickster that he was, he sought some wile to -outwit her. He mumbled something about having -fallen off Fishermen’s Wharf.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_164'>164</span>She stumbled to the cuddy under the seat and -brought out a lantern and a box of matches. With -these she obtained a light and held it flaring in -Vango’s face. “I don’t know who you are,” she -said, “but you’ve got to help me get this boat back. -Are you armed?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The medium made an emphatic denial, for the -woman’s face was sternly set. She was indubitably -a quadroon, by evidence of her creamy, -swarthy skin and the tight curls of her hair. Her -dark eyes burned in the lamplight under heavy, -knotted brows, her full lips drawing apart like a -dog’s to show a line of white, straight teeth. She -was the picture of Judith ready to strike, and -Vango trembled under her gaze till she turned from -him with an expression of contempt.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Come aft and help me with the machinery,” -she commanded. “We can’t keep on, Heaven -knows where, at full speed backward through -weather like this. Fi-fi, now, and mind your feet!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They went to the tiny engine where, fumbling -with the levers and stop-cocks, she brought the -machinery to a stop. The silence crowded down -upon them, as if someone had just died. Vango -noticed that the woman kept between him and the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_165'>165</span>starboard rail with some secret intent, and, as the -two eyed each other, he caught sight of a revolver -swinging from her belt. He saw something else, -also, that made his heart stop beating for an instant; -and then the quadroon held up her hand and listened -attentively.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you hear a bell?” she asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Scarcely had she spoken when in the distance a -fog-whistle sang out across the water, and through -the flying scud a yellow light winked and went out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We’re right off Alcatraz,” she said. “Here, -you stand by this lever and mind my orders. -Watch now, how I do it. Way forward for full -speed ahead, way back to reverse, and midway to -stop; and turn off the naphtha at this throttle. I’ll -take the wheel, and we’ll make across for the Lombard -Street Wharf. Keep a look-out ahead, and -let me know the instant you see a light, or anything!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She went forward to the wheel, and the launch -forged ahead at half-speed with Vango shuddering -at the engine. But it was not only the piercing -wind that froze him stiff as he stood, for there was -a ghastly horror aboard that was almost unbearable. -As the woman had stood by the engine, swinging -her lantern to show the working of the machinery, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_166'>166</span>the light had sought out one corner after another, -and, though she had stood between, the rays fell -once upon an object protruding from beneath the -seat. It was a foot; there was no mistaking the -outline, though the light had touched it but for an -instant. With all his resolution he put the sight out -of his mind and said no word to her, for her eyes -terrified him, and he dared not question.</p> - -<p class='c000'>She had, however, left the lantern behind to illuminate -the machine, and it now slanted past and -flickered on the toe of that foot. He tried to remove -his eyes from it, but the thing held him with -a morbid fascination. Look where he would, it -stuck in the end of his eye and held him in an -anguish. He kept his hand ready to the lever, and -succeeded in obeying the woman’s orders to stop, -go ahead, or back, but he acted as one hypnotised.</p> - -<p class='c000'>In about half an hour a dim light off the bow -warned them off Lombard Street pier, and from -here they crawled slowly past the water-front, guided -by the lights on the sea-wall and the lanterns of -ships in the stream. Below the Pacific Mail dock -their run was straight for Mission Rock, and from -there to the Potrero flats, but they were continually -getting off their course and regaining it, beating -<span class='pageno' id='Page_167'>167</span>about this way and that, confused in direction by -the lights in the fog.</p> - -<p class='c000'>During this time the two exchanged hardly a -word that did not have to do with the navigation -of the boat. Vango watched her, silhouetted -against the mist as she bent to one side and the -other, and the distressing tensity of the situation did -not prevent him now from racking his wits to find -some possible explanation of her identity and purpose. -He was a keen observer and used to making -shrewd guesses, but this was too much for him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last, in the gray of the dawn, the launch -arrived off Hunter’s Point, and the medium’s eyes -were straining through the murk to see some landing -pier, when he received a sudden summons to -stop the boat. He obeyed and looked up at the -woman, who came aft. He flattened himself -against the rail in terror of her, for, sure now that -one murder had been done aboard the launch, he -feared another.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now,” said the quadroon woman, “I want to -know who you are and all about you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>In a few stuttering syllables he told her his story, -persisting with a childish fatuity in the deceit he -had already begun, and welding to it bits of truth -<span class='pageno' id='Page_168'>168</span>from the strange procession of events that had -carried him through the past few months. When -he mentioned the fact that he was a medium, he -noticed a change in the woman’s attitude immediately. -His cunning awoke, and the sharper began -to assert himself, following this clew, telling of -how many persons he had aided with his wonderful -clairvoyant powers, and the success of his trances. -It is needless to say that he did not mention Mrs. -Higgins, nor his reason for having given up his practice. -As he rolled off the glib catch-words and -phrases of his trade, he watched the woman sharply -through his drooping eyelids with the agile scrutiny -of a professional trickster, and sought in her appearance -some clew to her secret.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With all her determination, the woman was undoubtedly -sadly distraught. The pistol by her side -hinted at violence. Her dishevelled hair, the distraction -of her garments, her clinched fists and -tightened brows told clearly of some moving experience. -Above all, the corpse beside the engine, -and her attempts to hide it, proclaimed some secret -tragedy. Yet while her mouth trembled her eyes -were steady; if he made a wrong guess it might -not be well for him.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_169'>169</span>At the end of his explanations she had melted in -a burst of feminine credulity and hunger for the -marvellous. “Then you can help me,” she exclaimed, -throwing herself upon his leadership in a -swift submission to the dominant sex. “You <em>must</em> -help me! I am in great trouble, and what is to be -done must be done quickly. Can you hold a sitting -now? I want to find something as soon as I can—it -is of the greatest importance—I would give any -price to know where to find it. You must get your -spirit friends to help me!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The medium shuffled. “You’re rather nervous, -and the conditions ain’t favourable when a party is -excited or sufferin’ from excitin’ emotions. The -proper degree of mutuality ain’t to be obtained unless -a sitter is what you might call undisturbed.” -Then he put all his shrewdness into a piercing gaze. -“Besides, you got murder on you! I see a red -aura hoverin’ over you like you had bloody hands!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this the quadroon burst out, “I haven’t, but -I wish I had, and it isn’t my fault!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Confession is good for the soul of a party,” -Vango said, with unction.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ll tell you everything, if you’ll only promise to -help me. I am innocent of any real crime, I swear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_170'>170</span>before God! But I tried to kill a man to-night. It -was in self-defence, though.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She took the lantern, and, setting the light on the -seat, pointed silently to the body. “Look at him!” -she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After a heroic conflict with his repugnance the -medium rolled the corpse over till it lay face up. -The dead man was a Chinaman. He could see -that by his clothes and hair, although his face was -half masked with clotted blood. Two shocking -gashes in the forehead turned Vango sick with -horror. He looked up at the woman with fear in -his eyes, and asked:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Who was the deceased?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It was my husband,” she said, and her sobs -choked her. “We must get him ashore and put -him in the house, and then we can decide what -next, and perhaps you can help me. There’s our -pier, over there,” and she pointed out the light on a -little wharf running out from the gloom. She took -the wheel again, and the launch was docked at the -pier.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As Vango disembarked and prepared to help -her with the corpse, the quadroon woman quickly -stopped him. “Here,” she said, pointing to a large -<span class='pageno' id='Page_171'>171</span>wooden case in the bow, “this must go ashore first. -Take it into the shed there and watch out that you’re -not seen. It won’t do for the police to see it, or -any of the neighbours. I’d rather they saw the -body!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She stooped and untied a coil of rope from the -case, and then the two lifted it to the floating stage. -It weighed something over a hundred pounds, and -it was all they could do to carry it together up the -steep incline and along the pier to the shed. The -woman took a key from her pocket, and unlocked -the door. When the case was inside the room, -which was scantily furnished with a few chairs and -tables, they returned to the launch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they approached the stage, Vango thought -of the woman’s request for a seance, and her words -struck him as curious. He asked her carelessly -what it was she wished to find.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A scrap of red paper, with Chinese writing on -it,” was the reply. She had no more than uttered -the words, when, glancing over at the launch, -Vango saw on the floor in the rays of the lantern -a red spot. Looking more closely, he saw that it -was undoubtedly the very paper the woman wanted. -He turned suddenly and faced her to prevent her -<span class='pageno' id='Page_172'>172</span>seeing it, and seized her hand. Then he sighed -heavily, passing his free hand over his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I feel a vibration of a self-independent message -from my control,” he said, and fetched a dramatic -shudder. “They is a kind of a pain in my -head, as though a party had passed out of a stab -like.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>This revelation was made in a die-away voice, as -if from many miles off, and he glanced through a slit -in his lids at the quadroon to see how she was taking -it. Then he shuddered again more violently, but -this time without dissimulation. His hand gripped -hers like a wrestler’s, his eyes leaped past her, over -her shoulder, staring; for there, dimly shadowed in -the obscurity, holding up a spectral arm in warning, -was Mrs. Higgins!</p> - -<p class='c000'>Vango’s soul was torn between greed and fear. -Here was another dupe who could restore his fortune, -the way to cajole her plain before him—there -was the threatening form of his Nemesis protesting -against his roguery, and he faltered in dread.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, what is it, what is it?” the quadroon woman -cried, piteously.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The medium’s cupidity won, and the credulous -woman in the flesh was more potent than her sister -<span class='pageno' id='Page_173'>173</span>in the spirit. He shut his eyes and went desperately -on:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“She gives me this message: What you’re -a-lookin’ for will be found sooner than what you -expect, and you’ll come by it on the water. You’ll -be guided to it by a party who is a good friend to -you and you can trust, and she gives me the letter -’V.’ He’s a dark-complected man with a beard, -and there’ll be money a-comin’ to him through your -help.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Having trembled again, and sighed himself back -to life, the medium turned to her drowsily, as if he -had just been called from bed. “Where am I?” -he said, in mock surprise, and then with a groan of -relief, as he saw that Mrs. Higgins had disappeared, -he added, “Oh, what was I sayin’? I must have -went into a trance.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The quadroon was in a high tremor of suspense. -“What is your name? You never told me,” she -demanded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My name?” he repeated, with a baby stare. -“Vango, Professor Vango. Why?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then you’re the man,” she cried. “Come! -Help me take the body ashore, for we must get him -to Chinatown as quickly as the Lord will let us.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_174'>174</span>He waited till she had jumped into the boat and -had laid her hand to the corpse, and then he snatched -for the paper and waved it in the air. “Did you -say it was a scrap of red paper you lost?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She sprang at him and looked closely. “This is -the very piece I wanted! Wong Yet is one of -them!” she cried. “Now my poor husband can -be avenged! God bless you, Professor; you have -proved your part of the message is true, and I reckon -I’ll prove mine. Find the other half of this piece -of paper for me, you can do it easy with your spirit -guides, and I’ll give you a thousand dollars for it!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They stooped over the dead Chinaman, and, -with Professor Vango at the shoulders and the -quadroon at the knees, the corpse was carried up -the landing stage and along the pier to the shed. -Here was hitched a pitifully dirty white horse harnessed -to a disreputable covered laundry-wagon, -spattered with adobe mud. Into this equipage they -loaded the remains, piled the case in the rear, and -buttoned down the curtains. Then the woman -mounted with Vango to the seat and drove for the -Potrero.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they turned into the San Bruno Road, the -quadroon began her promised confession. She -<span class='pageno' id='Page_175'>175</span>could not proceed calmly, but was swept with alternate -passions of sorrow and rage. The medium, -however, unmoved by her suffering, eyed her craftily, -watching his chance to feed upon her superstitious -hopes.</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE QUADROON WOMAN</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I reckon you don’t guess a coloured person -can hate white folks as much as white folks -hate niggers, but they do, sometimes, and I -despise a white man more than if I were a sure-enough -black woman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>My Daddy was born fairer than a good many -white trash. Some folks never knew he was a -mulatto. My ma died when I was born. Daddy -wanted me to be educated, so I was sent to the -Tuskegee Institute, where I learned nursing. After -that we lived a little way out of Mobile, and we -were right happy for a good while.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, about two years back, there was an awful -crime committed near our place, and all the whites -went pretty near crazy. You don’t have to be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_176'>176</span>told what it was, and you know what law amounts -to at such times. Any coloured man that is once -suspected has no show at all. Daddy was innocent, -of course, but if he’d been guilty, I’d have stood -up for him just the same. He was put in jail, and -they got up a mob to lynch him. I got wind of it -just in time. There was a sheriff’s deputy who -was fond of me, and he and I managed to get -Daddy out and started West.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I had no idea just where Daddy had gone, till -one day I was looking over the Mobile <cite>Register</cite>, -and I come on a “Personal” that made me prick -up my ears. It looked like it might have been -written by my Daddy for me to see. It was addressed -“Aber,” and when I turned the word -backward, the way you do sometimes with funny-sounding -words, I saw it made my own name, -“Reba.” It read like this:</p> - -<p class='c014'>Aber: Shall answer no further requests, as nobody can -identify. Sheriff called off.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Odod.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>Now Odod was just Dodo backward; that was -my pet name for Daddy when I was little. The -word “sheriff” seemed likely, but I couldn’t understand -that about “requests.” Then I thought to -<span class='pageno' id='Page_177'>177</span>read the first letters of each word, like the acrostics -Daddy and I used to work out together in the -<cite>Youth’s Companion</cite>, and there it was, easy. Just -“San Francisco.” Then I knew Daddy was safe -in California and wanted me to come on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I packed right up and bought a ticket, hoping to -find him somehow when I got there. I didn’t think -anybody would suspicion my leaving, but I had no -idea how cruel white folks can be, till I had gone -too far to come back. Just after we left New Orleans -I thought I saw a man following me. I wasn’t -quite certain till we changed cars at El Paso, but -then I knew he was a sure-enough detective.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Talk about bloodhounds! That man never left -me out of his sight for a minute. He sat in the -corner with his hat pulled over his face, and I could -just feel his eyes boring a hole in my back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>First thing I did after I got to the Golden West -Hotel was to mail a personal to the <cite>Herald</cite>. It -read like this:</p> - -<p class='c014'>Odod: Any money will assist the cause. Help earnestly -desired. We are in trouble.</p> - -<div class='lg-container-r c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>Aber.</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>I knew if he saw this message he’d see it meant -“Am watched. Wait.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_178'>178</span>Well, I can’t tell you half what I went through -that first week, with the detective turning up everywhere -I went, till I was afeared I’d die of the strain. -Sometimes I just felt like murdering him to get him -out of the way. I didn’t care so much for myself, -but I was in mortal terror lest he’d catch sight of -Daddy and arrest him. I watched my chance, and -one night I went to bed early, leaving word at the -office to be called at five next morning. Then, at -two o’clock I got up and went out, leaving all my -things in the hotel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I took a room down on Third Street, near Minna, -and for three weeks I was mighty careful where I -went, waiting for the deputy to leave town. I got -a few jobs of nursing, so I paid my way for a spell; -then I just couldn’t stand it a day more, and I risked -getting word to Daddy. So I put another personal -in the paper, telling him, the same way as before, -to meet me at the old Globe Hotel in Chinatown -next night. You know the old Globe used to be -right smart of a hotel in early days, but now there -are hundreds of Chinamen living in it. It’s like -an ant-hill, full of all sorts of ways and corners to -get out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I waited on the steps, keeping a sharp eye out -<span class='pageno' id='Page_179'>179</span>for Daddy. But I hadn’t been there more than -ten minutes before I saw—not my dear old Dodo—but -the detective who had followed me all the way -West. I ran down the steps and walked up Dupont -Street as fast as I dared, never looking round -once nor letting on I had seen him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I got to the corner of Washington Street, -only a matter of a block away, I ran smack into a -man. He grabbed me in his arms, and was crying -over me before I recognised him by his voice as -Daddy, for he had a light wig and a dyed mustache, -and wore blue spectacles. I had no time to kiss -him even. I just whispered to him, “The detective—run -for your life!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Daddy gave one glance over his shoulder, and -ran up Washington Street. The detective saw him -go, and dashed after him, and I followed them both. -They turned up a flight of steps into a big doorway, -a little piece up the block.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I saw by the sign over the door that it was a -Chinese theatre they had gone into.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But I just had to find out what was going on inside, -so I paid the man at the door fifty cents and -went up the stairs. I had never been in such a -place before, of course, and at first I had no idea -<span class='pageno' id='Page_180'>180</span>what to do or where to go. There was no sign -of Daddy or the detective anywhere, and the place -was filled with a great crowd of Chinamen on the -seats. The only white people I saw were a lady -and two men sitting up on one side of the open -stage. I was bewildered and frightened to death, -for there was a horrible noise of big gongs and -squeaking fiddles, and actors in queer costumes -singing and talking in shrill voices.</p> - -<p class='c000'>A Chinaman came down the crowded aisle and -took me up to a seat beside the tourists on the -stage, and there I had to sit in front of that crowd -of coolies while the play went on and on and on. -I have seen Chinese plays enough since, but then it -was all new and terrible, for the orchestra was right -near me, making such a noise that I thought I’d go -mad, and the actors kept coming in and going out -past me reciting in a sing-song. I wanted to scream.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Away up over the stage was a break in the wall -where the ceiling went up higher, and there was a -little window almost above my head. There, once -I saw a head stuck out and a Chinaman looked at -me, long and hard. This made me more frightened -than ever.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Just when I thought I couldn’t stand it a minute -<span class='pageno' id='Page_181'>181</span>longer, I heard the voice of a white man swearing -in the dressing-room behind the stage, and then the -detective came through the curtain looking like he -was mad enough to kill somebody. Frightened as -I was at him, my heart was nigh ready to break -with joy, for I knew that Daddy must have escaped -from him somehow. He looked over the audience -from the floor to the galleries where the women -were, and finally went out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As soon as he was out of sight a Chinaman came -up to me and grinned. “You likee see actor dlessing-loom?” -he said. Something told me that he -was a friend and I got right up and followed him. -We went into the dressing-room, where all the costumes -were hung on the wall and the actors were -putting on queer dresses and painting their faces, -then up a flight of stairs. I kept my eyes open -sharp, looking everywhere for Daddy. Above the -stage was the joss-house room of the theatre with -punks burning, but the place was empty. Above -that was the kitchen.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then we turned a corner, went down some -steps and came to a padlocked door. My guide -unlocked it, put me outside on a platform, whistled -and left me, after saying, “You keep still; bimeby -<span class='pageno' id='Page_182'>182</span>you catch him!” Then I heard his footsteps going -back into the building.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was alone on an outside balcony, looking down -into a dark alley, three floors below.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After awhile a door opened, and a man beckoned -to me. We went through a little hall with -doors on each side and dark passages leading off -every which way, and down these, in and out till -I was more confused than ever, and then finally he -knocked at a little door. It was opened, and I was -pushed inside.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was a tiny box of a room, low and narrow. -On a broad bunk at one side, two Chinese actors -in costumes were lying, smoking opium pipes. -Leastways, I thought they were Chinamen, but as -soon as the door was shut, one jumped up and took -me in his arms. I screamed and fought to get away, -but he called me Reba, and I knew it was Daddy. -No wonder I didn’t recognise him before. He had -on a wig with a long queue, and a gold embroidered -costume, and his face was painted in a -hideous fashion, with his nose all white and streaks -under his eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After I had kissed half the paint off his face he -told me what had happened.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_183'>183</span>Daddy had been in San Francisco long enough to -get pretty well acquainted with Chinatown. He had -kept around there from the first, to escape notice, -and he had got to be mighty good friends with one -of the actors who spoke English fairly well. When -he was chased by the detective he had made straight -for Moy Kip’s room, and asked to hide out. The -Chinese are used to fooling the police, and Kip just -threw a gown over Daddy’s shoulders, painted his -face, and put him on the opium bunk. When the -officer went through the actors’ rooms, he looked in, -but didn’t see any more than I saw at first. Then -Moy Kip watched me through the little window -over the stage, and as soon as the detective left the -place they sent for me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Daddy and I were taken to a room three stories -under the sidewalk, where we hid for a week, going -upstairs at meal-times. It was just like one big -family of about eighty men, but only one or two -women. The little rooms we had were dark and -dirty and close, and the smell was something awful. -I couldn’t have stood it alone, but Daddy was safe. -That was enough for a while.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But living Chinese fashion, without sunlight or -decent food, didn’t agree with Daddy at all, and he -<span class='pageno' id='Page_184'>184</span>fell sick. It wasn’t only the air that was ailing him, -it was the fear of capture, too, and with all the hardship -and worry his fever got steadily worse. A -Chinese doctor in big spectacles and a long white -mustache came in to see him, and mixed him up -some black, horrid, smelly stuff, made of sea-horses -and lizards, and Moy Kip burned punks in the joss-house -upstairs, but he didn’t get any better. He -was always worrying about something when he was -delirious, and I couldn’t make out quite what it was -about till one day, just before the end, when his -mind cleared and he told me. Moy Kip wanted to -marry me! Daddy didn’t know what to do. He -couldn’t bear to ask me to marry a Chinaman, -and he didn’t like to refuse the man who had been -right kind to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>You can imagine how I felt about it. It would -have been bad enough if Moy Kip had been an -ordinary Chinaman, but, being an actor, he belonged -to almost the lowest caste. Undertakers and barbers -and boatmen are the only ones below. Actors -can’t even mix equally with ordinary coolies. Besides, -Kip being the principal “white-face” actor -or comedian, the manager didn’t let him leave the -theatre much, for fear he’d be kidnapped by highbinders -<span class='pageno' id='Page_185'>185</span>and held for ransom. If I married him, -the life would be something awful.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And now, to make it all worse, my poor old -Dodo was taken away. He died in my arms after -being sick a week.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was alone in the city, without money or friends, -except the Chinese actors. I was almost crazy for -sunlight and fresh air, and the sight of decent people.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Moy Kip was the only one of the crowd of -Chinamen in the building who could speak English -very well, and he had also been my father’s friend. -He was educated after a fashion, and, for a Chinaman, -kind and gentlemanly.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One day, soon after Daddy was buried, Kip -came to my room. I was crying on the bunk, and -he stood there watching me; then he placed a roll -of gold on the table. “I give you two hundled -dollar,” he said. “You likee go away home? No -good stay here. Chiny actor heap bad.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I sat up in surprise. I wondered where I would -ever find another man who, loving me and having -me in his power, would give me the means to escape. -Right away I began to like him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, Moy Kip,” I said, “you have been so -good to poor Daddy!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_186'>186</span>He looked at me hard, and said, “You likee -Moy Kip? You mally me, please?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So, after a while, I ended by accepting him, and -I have never been sorry since. We were married -in the Chinese way. I wore a stiff dress of red -silk my husband bought for me, and my hair was -braided tight and greased, fastened with gold fila-gree -and jade ornaments. I had my cheeks rouged -and eyebrows painted, and all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But it was not till the carriage took me from my -old rooms and the slave woman had carried me on -her back up the stairs and into Moy Kip’s home -(so that I should not stumble on the threshold and -bring bad luck), that I found out how much difference -the marriage was going to make to my husband. -For I wasn’t taken to the theatre at all, but -to a little set of rooms in Spofford Alley. When -he came in to meet me, dressed like a prince in his -lilac blouse and green trousers, I asked him how it -happened he hadn’t fitted up a room for me in the -theatre.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Seems like he reckoned I had brought him luck, -for he had paid the manager for the right to quit -acting, and he was going to try and get into more -respectable business. In China, of course, he would -<span class='pageno' id='Page_187'>187</span>have had to go on being an actor, and his sons after -him, but Chinatown here is different, and it’s getting -to lose some of the old strictness.</p> - -<p class='c000'>What Moy Kip was going to do, was to smuggle -opium. He’d been wanting to go into it for a -long time, but he had nobody to help him at it, nobody -he could trust, that is. With me to take hold, -he reckoned he could make right smart of money.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We bought a naphtha launch and filled it with nets -and truck, like we were fishing, if anybody wanted -to inspect us; and Kip had fixed the stewards on -about every China steamer coming into port. They -bought the stuff in five-tael tins, and packed it in -bales with lines and floats, dropping it overboard as -the ship crossed the bar. Then all we had to do -was to cruise around in the launch and pick up the -floats and haul in the bale. It was my part of the -business to dispose of the opium after we had got it -into town. I sold it to a German who distributed -it through Chinatown.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The first year I was perfectly happy with Moy -Kip, and no white man could have treated me better -than he did. He named me “Hak Chu”—the black -pearl—and nothing was too good for me. But still -we didn’t count for much in Chinatown, for Moy -<span class='pageno' id='Page_188'>188</span>Kip was still considered an actor, and below the -notice of merchants. It seemed to be as much a -question of money as anywhere else in the world, -and until we could save enough up to buy a share -in some store, we were less than nobody, except at -the theatre, where they were always glad to see us -both. We often went to see the plays, until, with -my husband’s explanations, I got so I could follow -the acting pretty well.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It’s right interesting when you begin to understand, -for everything in the theatre means something. -Moy Kip explained to me how the carved -and gilded dragon over the doors leading to the -dressing-rooms meant a water-spout, and the sign -beside it read, “Go out and change costume.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They have lots of different kinds of plays, and -some of them take weeks to go through, running -night after night until all the doings of the hero are -finished.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One night while we were sitting on the stage in -the theatre watching a new Wae, or painted-face -comedian, who had come from China to take Moy -Kip’s place, a man came to my husband with a -letter. You know, in Chinese theatres they have -a special column where letters for anybody in the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_189'>189</span>audience can be pinned up, and this one had been -seen by some one who knew Kip was there. When -he read it I could see that it had bad news. He -got up right off, and told me we must go home.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When we were safe in our house, he told me -what was the matter. The letter was from the president -of a highbinder tong. They had discovered -that we were making money some way, and now -that if Moy Kip didn’t pay five thousand dollars -right off, he would be murdered by their hatchet-men. -Oh, I was scared! I tried to make my husband -promise to pay the hush-money, but he just -wouldn’t do it. He said he might as well die as -be robbed of all he had earned at so much risk. -He said he wasn’t afraid, but if he wasn’t, I was.</p> - -<p class='c000'>From this time on, I had the horrors every time -he left me. While we were together on our trips -on the launch, I didn’t care so much, for the excitement -kept up my spirits, but as soon as I was left -alone I burned punks in front of his little joss, just -like I was a heathen myself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All went on so quiet that I had begun to feel -easier, when yesterday the City of Pekin was reported. -It was after dark before we got out to our -wharf and put off, and we passed the steamer at -<span class='pageno' id='Page_190'>190</span>the Quarantine Station. It was cold and foggy, and -we spent hours cruising out at the mouth of the harbor, -in a rough swell, before we picked up the opium -and steamed back to Hunter’s Point.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As we stopped the engines and shot up to the -pier, I was steering in the bow, and Moy Kip was -at the engine. Just then I saw two men rise up -from behind a pile on the dock. I screamed to my -husband to reverse the engine and back off at full -speed, and he had just done it when the highbinders -jumped into the boat. The shock nearly rolled -her over, and I fell down on my face. Before I -could get up, I saw the hatchet-men strike at Moy -Kip two or three times. I drew my pistol and fired, -but the launch was rolling, so I reckon I missed them. -They jumped into the water and swam off. Then -I called out to Moy Kip and ran aft to help him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>My husband didn’t answer. I stooped down to -him and turned him over—oh, it was horrible!—and -then I must have swooned away, for it’s the -last thing I remember.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I know the ways of these hired hatchet-men. -They’ve been sold out time after time by their own -members, and so now when they go out for a murder -they write down a confession with both names signed -<span class='pageno' id='Page_191'>191</span>on the same paper. Then they tear it up and divide -the pieces, each one having the other’s name to hold -him by, if his partner tries to sell him out. Wong -Yet’s confession is on this paper you found. He’ll -die to-night—murderers can be bought cheap in -Chinatown. Now, if I only had the other half of -the paper I’d know who the second man was, and -settle him, too.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By this time the dilapidated laundry wagon had -threaded the Mission, crossed Market Street, and -was rolling along the asphalt of Golden Gate -Avenue on its way to the Chinese Quarter. The -quadroon woman’s eyes were afire with hate, and -Vango watched her in apprehension, mingled with a -shrewd desire to work further upon her excitement.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You see I was able to be of assistance, even -when conditions was unfavorable,” he ventured. -“The spirits is unfallible to instruct when a party approaches -’em right. If I could give you a regular sittin’ -and get into perfect harmony with the vibrations -of my control’s magnetism, I ain’t no doubt I could -lead you to find the balance of that there paper.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The wheel of the wagon caught in the street-car -rail and the medium was jerked almost off his seat. -Or, so an observer might have explained the sudden -<span class='pageno' id='Page_192'>192</span>lurch and the way Vango’s face went white. But -his imagination or mania, kindled again by the craft -of his trickery, had conjured up the vision of his -previous dupe, and Mrs. Higgins’s spirit arose before -him in threatening attitude. He cowered and stared, -exorcising the phantom, rubbing his hands in terror.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But the quadroon woman did not notice. Her -mind, too, was full of horrors, and the desire for -vengeance was an obsession. She only replied, -“One thousand dollars if you find that piece of paper -before night!”</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER VIII<br /> <span class='large'>THE HERO’S ADVENTURE: THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>“Ten cents!” Admeh Drake muttered to -himself, as he felt the first shock of the cool -breeze on Kearney Street, “what in Jericho -can a man do with a dime, anyway? It won’t even -buy a decent bed; it won’t pay the price of a drink -at the Hoffman Bar. Coffee John is full of prunes!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He walked up the cheap side of the street, looking -<span class='pageno' id='Page_193'>193</span>aimlessly at the shop windows. “I figure it out -about this way,” he thought, “I ain’t going to earn -a million with two nickels; if I make a raise, it’ll be -just by durn luck. So it don’t matter how I begin, -nor what I do at all. I just got to go it blind, and -trust to striking a trail that’ll lead to water. I’ll -take up with the first idea I get, and ride for it as -far as it goes.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With this decision, he gave up the unnecessary -strain of thought and floated with the human current, -letting it carry him where it would. Now the main -Gulf Stream of San Francisco life sets down Kearney -and up Market Street; this is the Rialto, the -promenade of cheap actors, rounders and men about -town. It is the route of the amatory ogler and the -grand tour of the demi-monde. Of a Saturday -afternoon the course is given over to human peacocks -and popinjays, fresh from the matinees, airing “the -latest” in garb and finery; but there is a late guard -abroad after the theatres close in the evening, when -the relieving prospect of an idle morrow gives a -merry license for late hours and convivial comradeship. -Among these raglans and opera-cloaks, -Admeh’s rusty brown jacket was carried along like -an empty bottle floating down stream.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_194'>194</span>He turned into Market Street at Lotta’s Fountain, -and had drifted a block northerly, when the -brilliant letters of an electric sign across the way -caught his eye: “Biograph Theatre. Admittance, -ten cents.” The hint was patent and alluring; there -seemed to be no gainsaying such a tip from Fate. -Over he went with never a thought as to where he -would spend the night without money, and in two -minutes Coffee John’s dime slid under the window -of the little ticket office in front. “Hurry up!” -said the man in the box, “the performance is just -about to begin.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh made his way upstairs, passed through -a corridor lined with a cheap and unnecessary display -of dried fishes in a long glass case, and came to -the entrance of a dingy hall, dimly illuminated. At -the far end of the sloping floor was a Lilliputian -stage. A scant score of spectators were huddled -together on the front seats and here Admeh took -his place, between two soldiers in khaki uniform and -a fat negress.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As he sat down, the curtain rose and two comedians -entered, to go through a dreary specialty turn -of the coarsest “knockabout” description. Admeh -yawned. Even the negress was bored, and the two -<span class='pageno' id='Page_195'>195</span>infantry corporals sneered openly. Next came a -plump lady of uncertain age who carolled a popular -song and did a frisky side-step to the chorus.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh was gloomily disappointed. He turned -his head to inspect the audience more closely, hoping -for some livelier prompting of his destiny, when with -a trill and a one—two—three accompaniment upon -the wheezy piano at the side of the stage, a little -soubrette ran down to the footlights, and with a -mighty fetching seriousness, rolling her eyes to the -ceiling, proclaimed: “Ladies and gentlemen, with -your kind permission, I will now endeavor to entertain -you with a few tricks of sleight-of-hand.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She was a wee thing with wistful brown eyes -under a curly blond wig, and seemingly a mere -child. Her costume was a painful combination of -blue and violet, home-made beyond a doubt. No -one could help looking a guy in such a dress, but -Maxie Morrow, as the placard on the proscenium -announced her, had a childish ingenuousness that forfended -criticism.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As she went through her foolish little performance, -audibly coached by some one in the wings, Admeh’s -eyes followed her with eager interest. He wondered -how much older she was than she looked, and what -<span class='pageno' id='Page_196'>196</span>she would be like off the stage. She had a piquant -rather than a pretty face, in form that feline triangle -depicted by Sir Joshua Reynolds. In her movements -she was as graceful and as swiftly accurate as a -kitten, and she had all a kitten’s endearing and -alluring charm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh made a sudden resolve. If he were to -meet with an adventure that night, what could possibly -be more entertaining than to have for his -heroine this little puss of a magician? He made a -rapid study of the situation to discover its possibilities. -It took but a few minutes for his wishes to -work out a plan of action, and he was soon at the -door urbanely addressing the ticket-taker.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here,” said Admeh, “I’m a reporter on the -<cite>Wave</cite>—you know the paper, weekly illustrated—and -I want an interview with Miss Morrow. I’ll -give her a good write-up if you’ll let me go behind -and talk to her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Biograph Theatre did not often figure in the -dramatic columns of the city papers, and such a free -advertisement was not to be refused. The doorkeeper -became on the instant effusively polite and, -bustling with importance, took the young man down -a side aisle to a door and up three stairs through a -<span class='pageno' id='Page_197'>197</span>passage leading behind the wings. Admeh was -shown into a tiny dressing-room whose scrawled -plaster walls were half covered with skirts, waists, -and properties of all kinds. The little magician was -in front of her make-up table, dabbing at the rouge -pot. The doorkeeper introduced the visitor, then -discreetly withdrew, closing the door after him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At her discovery by this audacious representative -of the press, Maxie was all smiles and blushes. -She was still but little more than a girl, although not -quite so young as she had appeared in front of the -footlights, and more naïve and embarrassed than one -would have expected of such a determined little -actress. She offered Admeh her own chair, the -only one in the room, but he seated himself upon a -trunk and began the conversation.</p> - -<p class='c000'>All his tact was necessary to put her at her ease -and induce her to talk. The Hero of Pago Bridge -was by no means too ready with his tongue, usually, -in the presence of women, but there was something -in the touching admiration she betrayed for him as -a newspaper man that prevented him from being -bashful. He thought the brotherly attitude to be -the proper pose, under the circumstances, and he led -her on, talking of the theatre, the weather, her costume -<span class='pageno' id='Page_198'>198</span>and himself, while she sat awkwardly conscious -of her violet tights, which she slapped nervously -with a little whip. His careless, friendly way at -last gave her confidence, for he asked her few questions -and did not seem to expect clever replies. -Before long she had thrown off all reserve and -chatted freely to him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Biograph Theatre kept open, as a rule, as -long as it could secure patronage. This night stragglers -kept coming in, so that the four “artists” and -the picture machine in the room below still went -through their weary routine. As the conversation -proceeded, Maxie left at times, went through her act -and returned, finding Admeh always ready to put -her upon the thread of her story.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So, by bits and snatches, by repetitions and -parentheses, in an incident here and a confession -there, this is about the way Admeh Drake heard, -that night, in Maxie Morrow’s dressing-room</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_199'>199</span> - <h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE MINOR CELEBRITY</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I can’t really remember when I wasn’t acting, -and I have no idea who my parents were, or -where I was born, or when, or anything. I -think, though, I must be about nineteen years old, -though I don’t look it, and I have decided on the -first of July for my birthday, because that’s just the -middle of the year and it can’t possibly be more -than six months wrong. I used to go on in child’s -parts in London when I couldn’t have been more -than four.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, the next thing I remember, I was with a -company of Swiss bell-ringers, and we travelled all -through the English provinces. I used to sing and -dance in between their turns, and I tell you it was -hard work, practising all day and dancing all night, -almost. We were all fearfully poor, for we weren’t -very much of an attraction. I had only one frock -beside my stage costume, and that one was so -patched I was ashamed to go to the pork shop, even, -with it on. I was a regular little slave to old Max, -who ran the company, and had to help cook and -wash the dishes in the lodgings we took in the little -towns. Bah! I hate the smell of brown Windsor -<span class='pageno' id='Page_200'>200</span>soap to this day. I was just a little wild animal, -for I never went to school a day in my life, and I -was never allowed to go out on errands alone, unless -they kept account of the exact time it would take -to go and come, and they held me to account for -every minute. I hardly think I ever talked to a child -till I was grown up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, the business fell off in England, so we took -passage in a sailing ship for California, around the -Horn. That voyage was the happiest time of my -life, for I had nothing to do but practise my steps -one or two hours a day, when the sea was calm -enough. There was a very nice old lady aboard -who taught me how to sew, and gave me some flannel -to make myself some underwear, for I had never -worn anything but what showed before, and I didn’t -even know that anyone else ever did. She taught -me to read, too, and tried to help me with arithmetic, -but mercy! I never could get figures into my -head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, we got to San Francisco finally—that was -about ten years ago. Bell-ringing didn’t seem to -take very well; it was out of date, or other people -did it better, because you know specialty people have -to keep improving their act, and play on their heads, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_201'>201</span>or while they’re tumbling through the air, or some -novelty, nowadays, or it doesn’t go and it’s hard to -get booked. But my act drew well, and it always -saved our turn. I made up new steps all the time -and invented pretty costumes, and so, of course, old -Max watched me like grim death to see that I didn’t -get away from him. We travelled all over the -West, and all the time I was a drudge, did most of -the work and got none of the money. They used -to lock me into the house when they went out, and -old Max’s wife would give me so much work to do -that she’d know whether I’d been idle a moment. -You wouldn’t think a girl in a fix like that had much -chance to get married, would you?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, I am married, or rather I was. I don’t -know just how I stand now. Let me tell you about it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was a man used to hang about the Star -Variety Theatre in Los Angeles, who did small -parts sometimes, when they wanted a policeman in -a sketch, or things like that, but he mostly helped -with the scene-shifters. I never had more than a -few words with him, but he kind of took a fancy to -me, and he used to bring me candy and leave it behind -the flats where the others wouldn’t see it. I don’t -believe, now, he ever cared so very much for me, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_202'>202</span>but I was silly and had never had any attention, and -I thought he was in love with me, and I imagined I -was with him. He tried to make up to Max, but -the old man wouldn’t have anything to do with him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One day, when all my people were out and had -locked me in the house, with a lot of dishes to wash, -Harry—his name was Harry Maidslow—came -down the street and saw me at the kitchen window. -I raised the sash when he came into the yard, and -without waiting for much talk first, for we were both -afraid the old man would be coming back and -would catch us, Harry asked me if I didn’t want to -leave the show, and if I wouldn’t run away with -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I believe I told him I’d run away with an orangoutang -if I got the chance. Remember, I was only -seventeen, and I had never been alone with a man -in my life before. In my life—if you call such -slavery as that, living! So he told me not to appear -to notice him, but to be all ready for him and to -watch out, and when I heard a certain whistle he -taught me, wherever I was, to jump and run for him, -and he’d do the rest.</p> - -<p class='c000'>You can imagine if I wasn’t excited for the next -few days! I would have jumped off the roof to get -<span class='pageno' id='Page_203'>203</span>to him, if necessary, and I just waited from hour to -hour, expecting to hear his call every minute. I -didn’t hardly dare to go to sleep at night for fear I’d -miss him, and I was listening everywhere I went, -meals and all. I think I trembled for three days. -It seemed impossible that he’d be able to get me -away; it was too good to come true. But I had -nothing else in the world to look forward to, and I -hoped and prayed for that whistle with all my -might.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One night at the theatre, after my company had -done the first part of their bell-ringing, I went on for -my song. I remember it was that purple silk frock -I wore, the one with the gold fringe, and red stockings -with bows at the knees. Well, the orchestra -had just struck up my air—</p> - -<div class='lg-container-b c015'> - <div class='linegroup'> - <div class='group'> - <div class='line'>“Ain’t I the cheese? Ain’t I the cheese?</div> - <div class='line'>Dancing the serpentine under the trees!”</div> - </div> - </div> -</div> - -<p class='c000'>and I was just ready to catch the first note when I -heard that whistle so loud and clear I couldn’t mistake -it. Heavens! I can almost hear it now. I -was half frightened to death, but I just shut my eyes -and jumped clean over the footlights and landed in -the flageolet’s lap and then pelted right up the middle -<span class='pageno' id='Page_204'>204</span>aisle. Harry had a lot of his friends ready by the -main entrance, and they rushed down to meet me and -while half of them held the ushers and the crowd -back, for everyone was getting up to see what was -the matter, like a panic, the rest of the boys took me -by the elbows and ran me out the front door. The -house was simply packed that night, and when they -all saw me jump they set up a yell like the place -was afire. But I didn’t hear it at all till I got out in -the corridor with my skirt half torn off and my -dancing clogs gone—and then the noise sounded like -a lion roaring in a menagerie.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Harry was all ready waiting for me, and he took -me right up in his arms, as if I was a doll, ran -down the stairs, put me in a carriage waiting at the -door, and we drove off, lickety-split.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I’ve often thought since then that I took a big -risk in trusting a man I didn’t really know at all, but -Harry was square, and took me right down to a -justice of the peace. We were married just as I -stood, with no slippers and the holes in the heels of -my stockings showing. What old Max did, I don’t -know, but he must have been a picture for the -audience when he saw me fly away like a bird out -of a cage. By the time he found out what had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_205'>205</span>happened it was too late to do anything about it, for -I was Mrs. Maidslow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Well, I lived with Harry for a few months, and -then he began to drink and wanted me to go on the -stage again to support him. The first time he -struck me I ran away and came up to San Francisco, -and went into specialty work for myself. Harry -was kind enough when he was sober; in fact, he -was too good-natured to refuse even a drink; that -was just what was the matter. He had no backbone, -and although he had a sort of romantic way -with him that women like he didn’t have the nerve -to stay with anything very long.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now the funny part of the whole thing is this. -You’d think that old Max would have been furious, -and so he was at first, but afterward he had a terrible -falling out with the others in his company—his -wife had died—and I guess he wanted to spite -them more than he did me. At any rate, just before -he died, a year ago, he inherited some money -from an uncle in Germany, and what did he do but -leave a kind of a legacy to Harry. That is, the -old man had a funny idea that wills didn’t hold -very well in this country, and he had a great respect -for the honor of the army officers. So he left -<span class='pageno' id='Page_206'>206</span>$15,000 in cash with a Colonel Knowlton in trust -for Harry Maidslow when he could be found. -Harry had a way of changing his name when he -felt like it, and old Max didn’t know him very well, -anyway, so the only way he could be sure of Colonel -Knowlton identifying him was by—well, by a -certain mark he had on his body that Max happened -to know about. The colonel has been invalided -home from the Philippines, and every time -he sees me he asks me if I’ve found Harry.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So, that’s all. I don’t really know whether I’m -a wife or a widow, but I do know that I ought to -have a share of that money coming to me, and perhaps -if you put the story into the paper, some of -his friends will see it and give me news of him.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh Drake put his pencil into his pocket feeling -a sense of shame at his duplicity with this little -waif. He would have been glad to help her, but -it seemed useless to disappoint her credulity by confessing -that his relations with the press were entirely -fictitious. “Well, I hope you get the money,” he -said, “and if there’s anything I can do to help you, -I will. But don’t you want me to see you home, -Maxie?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_207'>207</span>“Sure!” said the girl, frankly, and after pulling -on a rather soiled automobile coat and adjusting a -top-heavy plumed black hat, she descended the -stairs of the theatre with Admeh and they found -themselves on Market Street.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a little late to get anything to eat,” Admeh -suggested, tentatively, trusting to his luck. He was -not disappointed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, yes, indeed,” replied the girl. “I always -have supper after I get home, anyway.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Half the worry was off his mind, but without a -cent in his pocket, the question of transportation -troubled him. If worst came to worst, Admeh decided -that he would take Maxie home in a carriage, -see her safely indoors, and then return and have it -out with the driver. But first he ventured another -insinuation. “It’s a beautiful night!” he remarked. -At that moment the fog enveloped the upper half -of the Spreckels Building, and the tall and narrow -column was visible only as an irregular pattern of -soft, blurred yellow lights.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Fine!” said Maxie. “Let’s walk.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>She took his arm blithely, happy at her release -from work, and they crossed over, went up Grant -Avenue to Post Street and there turned toward -<span class='pageno' id='Page_208'>208</span>Union Square. A short distance ahead of them a -tall man in a gray mackintosh was walking with -somewhat painful carefulness up the street. His -deviations seemed to testify to a rather jovial evening’s -indulgence. The two rapidly approached -him, and Admeh had scarcely time to notice his -yellow beard and hair when the stranger turned -into a doorway. The house he entered was gaudily -painted in red and yellow with stars and crescents, -and so fiercely lighted with electric lamps that no -wayfarer, however dazed, could fail to notice the -sign: “Hammam Baths—Gentlemen’s Entrance.” -When Admeh turned to Maxie she was as pale as -if she had seen a ghost. She looked up at him with -a glitter in her eyes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Here!” she exclaimed, opening her purse and -thrusting a dollar into his hand. “Go in there and -see if that man who just went in has the word -’Dotty’ tattooed on his right arm! Find out who -he is, and come to the theatre and tell me.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>With that she pushed him into the doorway and -was gone.</p> - -<div> - <span class='pageno' id='Page_209'>209</span> - <h3 class='c011'>THE MYSTERY OF THE HAMMAM</h3> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>With the enthusiasm of an amateur detective, -Admeh Drake paid his dollar for -admission, and passed through two anterooms -into an artificially tropical atmosphere. -Turkish baths were a luxury outside the scheme of -things; he knew nothing of the arrangements. He -paused, uncertain how to proceed; uncertain, too, -as to the best plan for catching the yellow-bearded -man stripped. While he hesitated, an attendant -showed him into a dressing-room. He saw naked -men passing with towels twisted about their loins.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For the first time in many days, he took off his -wrinkled, creased clothes. Pausing on the balcony -without the door, he surveyed the carpeted, gaudily -decorated apartment below. It was midnight, the -busiest hour of the twenty-four in the baths. Heavier -than the atmosphere of steam and steamed humanity -rose the fumes of liquor. Few there are sober in -a Hammam at that elbow of the night. Not knowing -that the sweating heat takes the edge and fervor -from the wildest intoxication, Admeh wondered, -as he watched, at the subdued murmur of their -babblings. His eye ranged over a group sitting up -in towel robes, chatting drowsily, over a drunken -<span class='pageno' id='Page_210'>210</span>satyr thrusting his heavy limbs from under the covers -and singing a sleepy tune, over two others sunk in -stupor. Beyond them was a group of jockeys, who -had come to reduce weight; all were young, small, -keen-eyed, each was puffing a huge cigar. In that -bower of transformation, where all men stood equal -as at the judgment, their worldly goods shrunk to a -single bath towel, he found it hard to pick his man, -yet no one could he see with the clay-yellow hair -and beard that marked the mysterious person for -whom he was searching.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Following others who slipped down the stairs in -the single, levelling garment, Admeh went across -the main salon, through a double glass door, and -into an ante-chamber considerably hotter, where -men were lolling back, wet and shiny, in canvas -chairs. He saw the rubbers working in the room -beyond, saw that the men under their hands were -black and brown of hair and beard.</p> - -<p class='c000'>To the right, another glass door caught his eye. -He passed in and gasped at the heavy, overpowering -temperature. His glasses, to which he had -clung with the instinct of a near-sighted man, burned -on his nose. Men, glistening and dripping, sat all -along the wall, their feet in little tubs of water.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_211'>211</span>In the corner sat the mysterious stranger of the -yellow hair and beard. He was singing sentimentally. -Admeh, practised in the lore of intoxication, -watched him. “The jag’s growing,” he said to -himself. In fact, the fumes of liquor, heat driven, -were mounting steadily. Crossing the room, so as to -command the stranger’s right side, he saw round his -upper arm a black rubber bandage, like those used -to confine varicose veins. The problem resolved -itself into a question of tearing off that bandage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Hotter’n the hazes of the Philippines!” -babbled the man with the yellow beard. Piecing -together the description of her husband given by -Maxie in the story of her adventures, Admeh was -more than ever persuaded that this was the object -of his search, that under the elastic bandage was -the mark of identification by which he was to know -the legatee of the fortune left by the old bell-ringer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man of the yellow beard sang maudlin Orpheum -songs and prattled of many things. He cursed -San Francisco. He told of his amours. He offered -to fight or wrestle with anyone in the room. “A -chance,” thought Admeh, as he took the challenge. -But in a moment more, the drunken man was running -again on a love-tack, with the winds of imagination -<span class='pageno' id='Page_212'>212</span>blowing free. Nevertheless, this challenge -gave Admeh an idea. What he could not encompass -by diplomacy he might seize by force. In that -method, all must depend upon the issue of a moment. -If he could tear away the bandage in the first -dash he would win. But let the struggle last more -than a moment and others would intervene; then he -would be thrown out and the chance would be gone. -Mentally he measured bodies against the stranger; -man for man he saw that, both being sober, he himself -was badly over-matched. Broader and taller by -many inches, the stranger was of thick, knotty limbs, -and deep chest; Admeh himself was all cowboy -nerve and wire, but slight and out of condition. It -was bull against coyote.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“The question is,” thought Admeh, “can I and -his jag lick him and his muscle?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The stranger, singing again, lurched along the -hot tiling to another room. Admeh gasped like a -hooked trout as he followed through the door. It -was the extra-hot room, where the mercury registered -one hundred and sixty degrees. The stranger’s -bristles began to subside and his lips crept -together. The amateur detective drew nearer and, -languid as he was with the terrific heat, gathered -<span class='pageno' id='Page_213'>213</span>his force for the attempt. At that moment an attendant -with trays of ice water slouched in on his -felt shoes. Admeh slipped back into his chair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This entrance had a most surprising effect on -him of the yellow beard. Some emotion, which -Admeh took to be either fear or anxiety, struggled -to break through the veil of his debauch; he -stared with bleary but intent eyes. In a moment -he was lurching for the door. Glad of the relief -from that overwhelming heat, Admeh followed. -The trail led through the anteroom, past the rubbers -and their benches, through another double -glass door. A rush of steam fogged his spectacles; -when it cleared a little, he saw dimly, through the -hot vapor, that he was in a long, narrow closet, -banked on one side by benches and by pipes which -were vomiting clouds of steam. Groping from one -side to the other, he found that they were quite -alone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>With no further hesitation, Admeh rushed on -his man and grasped for the right arm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>By the fraction of an inch he missed his hold. -The stranger, with a quickness amazing for one in -his condition—and what was more surprising, without -a word—lashed out and caught Admeh a blow -<span class='pageno' id='Page_214'>214</span>under the chest which whirled him back on the hot -benches and fairly jerked his spectacles from his -nose. The issue was on, and it was first honors -for the stranger. Unsteady on his legs, but still -determined, Admeh closed again, ducked under a -ponderous blow and grappled round the waist. He -managed to get one hand on the bandage, but in no -wise could he tear it away, for the stranger held -him in a bear-grip, tight about the neck. So they -struggled and grunted and swayed through the -misty clouds from the hot benches to the slippery -floor and back to the benches again. Their bodies, -what with the exertion and the steam, ran rivulets; -their throats were gasping. Once, twice, they -staggered the room’s length. Admeh was beginning -to feel his breath and his senses going together, -when the grasp about his neck slackened in tension.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I and the jag win,” he thought, with what -sense was left in him. He gathered his strength -into its last cartridge, and gave a heave and a fling; -they went down to the floor with a wet slap, Admeh -above. He felt his opponent collapse under -him. For a moment he, too, saw the universe -swing round him, but with a great effort he tore -<span class='pageno' id='Page_215'>215</span>away the bandage and pressed his near-sighted -eyes close to the right arm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There, in faded colours, was a tattooed design on -the white skin. Admeh made out the word -“Dotty,” framed in a border of twisted snakes. His -quest was done. Faint, weary, languid, he prepared -to get away before his assault was discovered. -The door opened; some one caught -Admeh by the arm. With no more fight in him, -he raised himself to one knee and recognised the -attendant, the sight of whom had before so nearly -sobered his drunken opponent.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What the devil——” said the new-comer, and -stopped as his eye caught that mark on the arm. -Then he bent down, passed his finger over the design, -studied it, and peered into the white, senseless -face behind the yellow beard.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My work—it is the very man!” he exclaimed, -in tones of the greatest interest. Turning to Admeh -he asked:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Now why did <em>you</em> want to know about that -mark, and what were you scrapping for?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What do you know about him?” retorted -Admeh.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Story for story,” said the attendant.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_216'>216</span>“Story for story, swapped sight unseen,” agreed -Admeh. “But let’s get him out of here first, because -he’s in a pretty bad fix between his fight and -his jag.” Together they carried him to a dressing-room, -laid him on a bench, and closed the curtain. -Here Admeh’s last spark of strength left him; he -collapsed in a heap on the floor. With practised -hands the attendant set about reviving them both. -In ten minutes the man of mystery slept heavily, stupidly, -on the bench, and Admeh was sitting against -the wall breathing cool relief from the outer air. -Briefly, he told of his singular errand, omitting, from -some hazy idea of policy, the item about the -legacy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well,” said the rubber, after Admeh Drake -had finished his tale, “your yarn certainly is curious, -but I can beat it. What d’you think of this?—I -tattooed that name and mark on this fellow’s arm, -and I know the history of it, but he has no idea to -this day how it ever come there, nor who ’Dotty’ -is, nor why I did it, nor anything at all about it. -He was the hero of as queer a yarn as I ever heard, -and he knew no more about it all the time than a -babe unborn!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He rang an electric bell; a boy answered.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_217'>217</span>“Tell the boss to send for the extra man,” he -said. “I’m done up for to-night, and I’m going to -lay off for a while.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>So saying, he took Drake into an adjoining room, -shared by the employees of the baths, and, after -making himself comfortable on a lounge with a -blanket wrapper, he told the following joyous -romance:</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE DERMOGRAPH ARTIST</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>You see, this ain’t my regular job. I’m working -here because my profession is played -out in San Francisco. I’m a dermograph -artist. What’s that? Oh, it’s what most people -call a tattooer. But don’t you think we’ve got as -much right to be called artists as the fellows that -slap paint on cloth with a brush? I think so. Is -anything nicer than the human skin? Don’t you -fix up your walls and your ceilings, and your floors -that you wipe your feet on? Then what’s the -matter with decorating yourself? That’s the line of -talk I always gave people when they asked me why -I called myself a dermograph artist.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_218'>218</span>It was the electric needle and the Jap tattooer -that ran me out of business. With the electric -needle, a man could put on a design in about a -quarter of the time that it takes to do a real artistic -job by hand. The blamed little Jap would pretty -near pay to get a customer, he worked that cheap. -I quit, and I never get out my needles now except -for a design on some one in the baths.</p> - -<p class='c000'>My parlours were on the water-front, because -most of my customers were sailors. Of course, -once in a while some swells from Nob Hill would -come in for a design or two. I used to do my best -work for them, because, I thought, you never can -tell when these society people will get next to the -fact that a picture on the skin has it a mile on a painting. -Why, the other day I read in the papers that -a Frenchman got a hundred thousand dollars for a -little, dinky canvas painting. The highest pay I ever -knew a dermograph artist to get was five hundred -for doing the Wells Brothers’ tattooed woman. Do -you call that square?</p> - -<p class='c000'>After the Jap and the electric needle chump came -to town, business fell off, as I was telling you. -They’d have made me close up my shop and get -out if it hadn’t been for Spotty Crigg. Ever hear -<span class='pageno' id='Page_219'>219</span>of him? Well, you sure haven’t been in San -Francisco long. In those days he kept a sailor -boarding-house and saloon round the corner from -my parlours, and he was sort of boss of the water-front—good -any time to deliver five hundred votes. -I ain’t saying that Spotty was a Sunday-school kind -of man, but he stuck to his friends. I was one of -the gang, so he sent me enough jobs to keep me -going. Besides, I helped him once or twice on a -shanghaing deal. You see, like most sailor boarding-house -keepers in those days, he was a crimp—used -to deliver a sailor or two when foremast hands -were scarce and the pay was good. Spotty Crigg -is dead now, or I wouldn’t be telling you about his -last and biggest shanghaing scrape. I didn’t understand -it at the time, but I learned about it afterward, -part from Crigg and part from people on the -other side of the little deal.</p> - -<p class='c000'>One of my society customers was young Tom -Letterblair. Maybe you don’t know about him, -either. He belonged to about the richest tribe of -swells on Nob Hill. That fellow was as wild as -a fish-hawk, a thoroughbred dead game sport. His -being wild didn’t bother his people so much as the -way he went about it—always doing something -<span class='pageno' id='Page_220'>220</span>crazy. His people were strong on getting into the -society columns of the papers, but he was eternally -getting the family name on the news pages of the yellow -journals, if not in the police reports. He wasn’t -really what you would call bad, either; only wild -and careless and brought up wrong, and stubborn -about it when anyone tried to call him down. He’d -never seem sorry if he got the family into trouble, -but just laugh at his sisters when they roasted him. -And instead of treating him quiet and easy, and -gentling him into being good, they’d jaw him. That’s -a bad scheme with a gilded youth like Tom Letterblair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They were a bunch of orphans. That was half -the trouble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally, Tom Letterblair took up with a chorus -girl and refused to drop her. The family tried to -buy her off. Now she wasn’t a nice sort of girl, -but she was true to Tom. She told him about it. -For once, although he was such a careless fellow, -he got mad and what does he do but come to me to -have her name, “Dotty,” tattooed on his arm with -the double snake border. Says he to me confidentially, -“That’s the girl I’m going to marry when I -come of age, which is only two months, and don’t -<span class='pageno' id='Page_221'>221</span>you forget it.” Seems that he told other people the -same thing, so that it came back to his family.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now his sisters and the Eastern society swells -that they were married to didn’t hanker any to have -Dotty for a sister-in-law. But they knew by experience -that if Tom Letterblair said he’d do it, all -blazes wouldn’t hold him. J. Thrasher Sunderland, -one of Tom’s brothers-in-law, had what he thought -was a bright idea. It was to get the kid shanghaied -on a sailing vessel off for a six months’ voyage.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That wasn’t such a bad scheme either. They -could keep him away from Dotty and drink for six -months, have him work hard, and make a man out -of him. It’s been done before right in this port. -That wild streak is a kind of disease that strikes -young fellows with too much blood in their necks -and money in their pockets. I know. I’ve had it -myself, bar the money. By six months, what doctors -call the crisis would have been over. The risky -thing was the chance of raising a howl when he got -back, but they were willing to take chances that the -sense knocked into him with a belaying pin would -make him see it their way. They were going to -give it out to the papers and their friends that he -was off for his health.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_222'>222</span>J. Thrasher Sunderland made his first break when -he went to Captain Wynch of the bark <em>Treasure -Trove</em>, instead of going straight to a crimp, as he -ought to have done. Wynch promised to treat the -kid well and try to brace him up. Never having -seen Tom Letterblair he got a description of him, -including the tattoo mark. Then the skipper went -to Spotty Crigg and promised him a hundred dollars -for doing the rough work of getting Tom on -board the vessel.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Letterblair was such a big, careless fellow, he -never suspected anything, and a lure note fetched -him to Crigg’s saloon the night before the bark -cleared. Tom had been drinking hard that day—showed -up badly slewed. ’Twas a jolly drunk, -and he was ready for a glass with anyone.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now, Crigg hadn’t given much thought to this -little transaction, for he was doing that sort of work -almost every day in the week. But when that young -swell, all dressed up to the nines, came into the -“Bowsprit” saloon, the looks of him put a brand-new -idea into Spotty’s noddle. It struck him that -a hundred dollars was pretty small pay for catching -a fish of that size and colour; there was evidently -a big deal on somewhere. Like everyone else that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_223'>223</span>read the papers, he knew considerable about Tom -Letterblair, knew him for a young sport, free as -water with his money. Putting two and two together, -he saw that if he could save the kid instead -of stealing him, there might be a good many times -a hundred in the affair. Besides, there was a chance -of finding out who was trying to get the shanghaing -done, and then collecting blackmail. So he decided -to play both ends. He would steal the wrong man, -and hold on to the right one.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He ran his eye around the place and saw Harry -Maidslow, a scene-shifter in the old Baldwin Theatre, -who used to drop in, now and then, on his -nights off. Man for man, Maidslow and Letterblair -were modelled on the same lines—Maidslow -wore a moustache, but that would come off easy -enough—yellow hair, blue eyes, big and strong -build. Maidslow hadn’t a relative this side of the -Rockies; no one would miss him. Crigg knew -that.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Spotty Crigg went so far in his mind before he -thought of the tattoo mark. Captain Wynch had -mentioned it as the proof that there was no mistake. -And then, Crigg thought of me. I suppose lots of -people would have stopped there, but Spotty Crigg -<span class='pageno' id='Page_224'>224</span>had nerve, I’ll say that for him—nerve of a thousand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He worked Letterblair to drink himself to sleep, -and then had him packed upstairs and put to bed, -dead to the world. The next move was easy. Crigg -took Harry Maidslow into his office, fed him knockout -drops, and carried him up into the same room -with Letterblair. Side by side he laid them both, -and stripped them to undershirts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That was the way I found them when a hurry -call brought me to the boarding-house. I thought -at first they were both dead. It gave me the horrors -to hear Crigg tell me that I was to copy that -tattoo mark. ’Twas like working on a dead man. -One drunk, the other drugged, lying on a little, -cheap old bed and Spotty, who wasn’t a nice, -clean-looking sort of person anyway, leaning over -them with a candle.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he told what he wanted, I kicked until he -put on the screws. He could drive me off the -water-front if he cared. I knew that, and he -reminded me of it, besides offering me fifty dollars. -So at last I went at it, he telling me all the time to -hurry. I never worked so fast in my life. By two -hours you couldn’t tell one mark from the other, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_225'>225</span>except that Maidslow’s was new and Letterblair’s -old. Next we shaved Maidslow’s mustache off, -for Tom always wore a smooth face. Then we -changed their clothes, putting the swell rig on -Maidslow and the old clothes on Letterblair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next, Spotty Crigg took Maidslow, got him into -a hack, drove him to a dory he had waiting, and -rowed out to the <em>Treasure Trove</em>, which was in the -stream waiting to sail next morning. Captain -Wynch was cussing purple because Spotty had been -so long. He went over the description, though, -and looked at the right arm to make sure, just as -Crigg expected him to do. It looked all right, because -a tattoo mark don’t begin to swell until the -day after; besides, Wynch was seeing it under a -fo’castle lamp.</p> - -<p class='c000'>It was all right so far. But Crigg, who wasn’t -so keen by a jugful as he thought he was, hadn’t -figured on one thing. The Letterblairs had an -aunt, Mrs. Burden, a widow without chick or child -of her own. She was an old, religious lady, with -oodles of money and a whopping temper—a regular -holy terror. She didn’t cotton to the sisters at -all; in fact, hated them, but she was soft over Tom -Letterblair. Whenever she wasn’t turning loose -<span class='pageno' id='Page_226'>226</span>her money, stringing hospitals and churches all the -way to Sacramento, she was handing it over to the -kid, who had only an allowance until he got to be -twenty-one. He and the parsons were the only -ones who got her to loosen up. She had no son -and I rather guess that on the quiet she had a -sneaking liking for the way he was carrying on. -Sort of thrilled her. You know how some of those -pious old girls like a man that’s real bad. She -coddled him to death and fought the sisters for -being hard on the boy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Spotty’s luck turned so that she picked the very -next morning for a show-down with the sisters over -the way they were treating the kid. There must -have been a regular hair-pulling. Anyway, before -they got through, Mrs. Sunderland was so mad -that she poured out the whole scheme in one mouthful. -She said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You won’t have a chance to coddle <em>him</em> any -more! He’s on the <em>Treasure Trove</em>, bound for -China to get the foolishness taken out of him. He’s -passed the Farralones by this time.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The old lady was foxy. She would have made -a pretty good sport herself. She shut up like a -clam, went home, rushed for the telephone and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_227'>227</span>called up the wharfinger. She found that the <em>Treasure -Trove</em> was in the stream being towed for the -heads, and belonged to Burke & Coleman, this -port. She knew Burke. She got her carriage, -made his office in two jumps, and wouldn’t leave -until she had an order on Captain Wynch to deliver -a sailor answering Letterblair’s description, tattooing -and all. In a half-hour more she had a tug -started, chasing the <em>Treasure Trove</em> with that order. -She offered the crew two hundred dollars over -regular pay if they got their man back safe and -sound. She herself was afraid of the water, and -stayed in the tug office to wait.</p> - -<p class='c000'>While this was going on, Tom Letterblair woke -up. The man watching him tried to get him drunk -again, and the jag turned out loud and nasty. -Crigg saw he’d have to be doing something right off -the bat.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He knew a little how the land lay between Tom -and his people, but not enough. He was sure that -some one of Tom’s relatives had done it. As far -as that he was right. He struck the wrong lead -when he picked Mrs. Burden as the one—she being -a church member—that was most likely to be -ashamed of the kid. He looked up her number in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_228'>228</span>the directory, and made for the house hot-foot. She -wasn’t in, so he held up a lamp-post, waiting.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The tug got back. They packed Harry Maidslow -into the dock-house. He was still sound asleep -from the knockout drops.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My precious boy!” said the old lady, and fell -on his neck. Then she screamed so you could hear -her all over the water-front and began to jump on -the captain. She said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’re a pack of thieves! You’ve murdered -my Tom and dressed another man in his clothes. -Where is my boy? Give me back my boy!” she -said, and a lot of other things.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Said the tug-boat captain: “You’re trying to get -out of paying the two hundred. He’s on specifications, -and a nice time we had making them pass him -over. Look here.” He got the coat off Harry -Maidslow. There was the tattoo mark, just beginning -to swell up.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a new mark. You and those hussies have -fooled me,” said the old lady. “I’ll have you all -in jail for this,” she said. “I wish I could find him, -I’d show them up. I’d take him right up to the big -dance they’re going to have to-night. I’d shame -them!” she said. And she drove home, laughing -<span class='pageno' id='Page_229'>229</span>and crying out loud. At the doorstep Spotty Crigg -braced her.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He began quiet and easy, working up her curiosity -so that she would let him know how the land -lay. That’s just where he went wrong again. In -about a minute she put two and two together and -saw pretty clearly through the whole scheme. She -was just one point smarter than Spotty, and she -wormed it out of him finally. He thought she -wanted Tom put out of the way, sure. She played -her hand by letting him think so. It was move and -your turn, like a game of checkers, with the old -lady one jump ahead. Said Spotty:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Two thousand dollars, or I bring him back and -give the story to the <cite>Observer</cite>.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Which of course was exactly what she wanted. -She pretended to be scared but mad.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Not a cent. Do your worst,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then I’ll go that one better,” said Spotty. “I see -by the papers there’s a dance at the Sunderland house -to-night. Three thousand down or I dump him in -the front door, drunk as a lord and dressed like a stevedore. -I’ve got him where you can’t find him——” -which was a bluff. “If you tell the police he’ll get -worse than a drunk——” which was another.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_230'>230</span>“Not a red cent,” she said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Settles it!” said Crigg. He went away red-hot, -mad enough to back up his bluff, just as the old -lady thought he would.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When he got home he found that Tom couldn’t -be kept much longer. There had been a deuce of -a rough house. That clinched the matter with -Spotty Crigg. About half-past eight he woke Tom, -gave him some dinner with a cold bottle to get him -started again, and spun him a yarn about finding -him drunk and robbed. The deal went through -on schedule. At half-past nine, Spotty drove up -to the Letterblair house with the kid, rang the door-bell -and pushed Tom right into the hall, nursing a -loud, talkative drunk. They say it put that function -on the bum. I heard afterward from Tom -Letterblair that it was about the only time he ever -really enjoyed himself at one of his sister’s parties.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Nobody ever told the police or the papers. Every -man-jack in the deal was afraid to peach on the -others, because he couldn’t afford to tell on himself. -All except the old lady and Tom, of course, and -they were too tickled with the way the things -turned out to care about giving it away. Another -funny thing: everybody quit a winner. You can -<span class='pageno' id='Page_231'>231</span>see how Captain Wynch won. Tom paid Spotty -Crigg a thousand for keeping him off the <em>Treasure -Trove</em>, and I got fifty dollars for my job. And even -the snob sisters won out. How? Well, sir, Tom -Letterblair braced up from that time on. I suppose -he took it that if he was far enough gone to the -devil for his family to have to shanghai him, he -must be a pretty bad egg. So he swore off, got -on the water-wagon, and turned out pretty well, -alongside of what they’d expected of him. His -chorus girl, Dotty, ran away with another man, and -that helped him some, too.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally, Tom got a case on a swell New York -heiress, a dizzy blonde, who was just simply It in -the Four Hundred. He married her, to the great -and grand delight of Mr. and Mrs. J. Thrasher -Sunderland.</p> - -<p class='c000'>And right there was where Tom had too much -luck for any one man. I’ll be darned if that girl’s -name wasn’t Dotty, and she always believed Tom -had it pricked on his arm just on her account! -What d’you think of that?</p> - -<p class='c000'>But perhaps you’re wondering how Maidslow -got square. I’ll tell you.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He came to in the tug office, where the crew had -<span class='pageno' id='Page_232'>232</span>passed him a few swift kicks and left him. Pretty -stupid and dopy yet, he crawled home to his own -room and slept some more of it off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then, when his head did finally clear out, he -began to look himself over; to discover and explore, -as you might say. When he looked in the glass he -must have nearly fell dead. His yellow moustache -was gone. Then, he’d gone to sleep in old clothes -and he woke up in a swell high-class rig, silk-lined, -and without a spot, patch, or sign of wear. He -had on silk gauze underwear, patent leather shoes, -diamonds in his shirt-front, cuff-links, and a pair of -pretty hot socks. Feeling in his pockets, as a man -will, he found a gold watch and chain, a gold cigarette -case, a corkscrew mounted in rubies and three -hundred and forty-two dollars in bills and coin. -Every one in the deal had been too busy to touch -him while he was drugged.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Long before he got his senses his arm began to -feel funny. After he’d investigated the costume, he -took off the Willy-boy coat and stripped up his -shirt sleeve. There was a tattoo mark, smarting -like sin, with the name “DOTTY” in beautiful capital -letters! Well, when he saw that he went right -up into the air. He was just like that old woman -<span class='pageno' id='Page_233'>233</span>in the nursery rhyme—“Lawk-a-massy on us, this -is none of I!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The tattoo mark was his only clue. I was the -only one he knew in the business, so he came down -to me and wanted to know how, and when, and -where, and why, and what-the-devil.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Look here, my son,” says I, “what are you -kicking about, anyway? You go to sleep with eight -dollars on your back and two bits in your jeans. -You wake up with about a seven hundred and fifty -dollar rig on, and a wad in your pocket, more than -you ever had in your life. The thing for you to do,” -I says, “is to lose yourself before you’re called for, -and to stay lost, good and hard! Next time you -fade away on the water-front, you may wake up in -a jumper and overalls, shovelling garbage! You -can’t expect to draw a straight flush in diamonds -every deal: next shuffle you may catch deuces. You -take my advice and drop a part of that roll of yours -for a ticket in the ’Owl’ train to-night, before you’re -enchanted back again.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“All right,” he says, “I’ll do it. But for -heaven’s sake, tell me just one thing, and I’ll ask no -more questions. <em>Who in blazes is Dotty?</em>”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Aw,” I says, “she’s the fairy godmother of this -<span class='pageno' id='Page_234'>234</span>pipe dream. She’s changed into a sea-gull by this -time!”</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>“Well,” concluded the rubber, “he skipped, and -I have never seen him since, from that day till to-night, -when I found you scrapping with him, for this -man is Harry Maidslow for sure. If you want to -talk to him now, he’ll probably be all right. He’s -had time to have a plunge, and you’ll find him sleeping -upstairs. I’ve got to go home, so good-by. -Come round again some time and tell me about -him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh Drake, after a swim in the tank himself, -passed through the main salon and upstairs, acting -upon the hint of the Dermograph Artist. The place -was lined with cots, now filled with snoring occupants, -and it was not until he had explored a second -story that Admeh found him of the clay-yellow -beard. He was alone in a secluded ward, sleeping -peacefully. Admeh touched him, and Maidslow -sat up suddenly with a terrified stare.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What d’you want? What d’you want of me?” -he cried.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh was astonished at his fright, but hastened -to relieve the man’s suspense. “Oh, nothing bad, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_235'>235</span>I hope. Is your name—” here he hesitated, -and the man’s face showed abject fear—“Maidslow?”—and -the mouth relaxed its tensity.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Yes,” said the man. “What d’you want?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I want to tell you that there’s fifteen thousand -dollars coming to you!” said Drake.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The man stared now in bewilderment.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Ever know old Max Miller, Swiss bell-ringer?” -“A little,” said Maidslow. “Why?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“He’s your rich uncle. He’s left you his fortune. -You caught him when you stole Maxie from -him!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here,” said Maidslow, “what kind of a -jolly are you giving me anyway? I haven’t seen -Maxie—I suppose you mean my wife—for two -years. If you know anything about her, tell me the -whole thing, and tell it slow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>For the second time that night Admeh Drake -narrated his adventures, beginning at Coffee John’s, -and ending with the news of Maxie and the legacy -left to Harry Maidslow. But, when he mentioned -Colonel Knowlton’s name as the trustee, Maidslow, -who had listened so far in delight, gave an exclamation -of despair.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, heavens!” he cried, “I can never get that -<span class='pageno' id='Page_236'>236</span>money! Why couldn’t it have been given in charge -of some one else? Colonel Knowlton, of all men -in the world!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Why can’t you get it from him?” Drake asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You listen to my story, and you’ll know,” replied -Maidslow.</p> - -<h3 class='c011'>THE STORY OF THE DESERTER OF THE PHILIPPINES</h3> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c012'>I don’t exactly know why I married Maxie -Morrow, except that I’ve always been a fool -about women. The thing came so sudden, I -just jumped and caught her on the fly. When she -left me, I went pretty much to the bad. Then -Harry Maidslow disappeared, because of debts and -one thing or another, and I turned up as Harry -Roberts in St. Louis. That was just about when -the Spanish war broke out. It was too good a chance -to lose, and I decided to begin all over again. So -I enlisted in the regulars, joining the One Hundred -and Fourteenth Infantry. I was hardly more than -through the goose step when we were sent to the -Philippines.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was no slouch nor shirk, either, but I knew -<span class='pageno' id='Page_237'>237</span>more about eating than anything else, and I naturally -gravitated to the cook’s tent and put him on to -a lot of things the boys liked. I got to be rather -popular with the company in this way, and when -the Commissary Sergeant was appointed in Manila, -I managed to get the place, though I was only a -rookie. Perhaps the Captain’s wife helped me out -some. She, being an officer’s lady, wasn’t supposed -to know I was on earth, but somehow she noticed -me and fixed it up easy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Commissary work was a snap—little drill, no -guard mount, leave of absence occasionally, and the -run of the town in a little pony cart. You see each -company had its quota of rations. We could draw -them, or leave them and get credit. There was -maple syrup and candy, canned fruit, and chocolate, -and all sorts of good stuff in the storehouse that we -could get at wholesale rates. By cutting down on -fresh meat and pinching on bacon, I managed the -company’s accounts so that we could have hot -griddle-cakes and maple syrup every day. That’s -the way I held my job. If I ever become famous -it will be for having introduced Pie in the Philippines.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Every morning I drove around Manila, visiting -<span class='pageno' id='Page_238'>238</span>the markets with a man to help me, exchanging -sacks of flour for fresh baker’s bread and cakes, -getting chickens, and so on, besides making friends -right and left. About two nights every week I was -dancing or flirting with the half-breed women; -Mestizas they called them. That’s how I got into -trouble.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Her name was Senorita Maria del Pilar Assompcion -Aguilar, and nothing that ever I saw could -touch her for looks. She was the kind of woman -that makes you forget everything else that ever happened -before. She and her brother owned about -the whole of a province in the middle of the island -of Luzon. When she came into the room it was -all over with me. There was more of the Spanish -than the Filipino in her, enough to give her the style -and air of a lady, but she got her beauty from -the tropics. Her hair was like one of those hot -black nights they have down there—silky and soft, -drifting around her face—but it was her eyes that -made you lose sleep. They were blue-black, not -melting, but wide-awake and piercing. They were -just a bit crossed, hardly a hairbreadth out, but -that little cast seemed to make her even prettier -than if they were straight. A Kansas sergeant -<span class='pageno' id='Page_239'>239</span>told me that the family was in from their country -place, and that the Secret Service people were -watching her. She and her brother were suspected -of knowing a good deal about Aguinaldo’s -plans.</p> - -<p class='c000'>You remember that after the battle of Manila -the American troops lay in town for months, just -drilling and waiting to see what the insurgents were -going to do. There were all sorts of rumours afloat, -and nobody knew which way the cat would jump. -The Filipinos were camped in a semi-circle outside -the city and growing uglier every day. Our sentries -were watching them close enough to see every -nigger that stuck his finger to his nose at us.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I saw more and more of Maria, danced with -her, or went to her house every night I could get -off. It wasn’t long before I saw that I had her -going. Her brother looked as if he’d like to bolo -me in the back, and never left us alone for a moment. -I didn’t care. I was too far gone myself to -be afraid of him. I’ve seen one or two women in -my time, but she could put it over them all.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Love goes pretty fast in hot countries. One night -I happened to find her alone. Her brother was away -on some Katipunan conspiracy business, most likely, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_240'>240</span>or perhaps dodging our spies. She was dressed -like a queen, all ready for me. I had no more -than come in when she threw herself into my arms -and lay there crying. I had gone too far, and I -was in for it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I let her stay there a little while, kissing her and -trying to get her quiet, and then I looked away, -and told her what I should have told her long before—that -I had a wife and couldn’t marry. She -took it pretty hard at first.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After she had cried she laughed, and there was -a load off my mind. I said to myself that women -must be different down here, and thought I was -lucky to get out of it so easy. I thought perhaps -she hadn’t been so badly hurt, after all. She -said we’d forget it, and be friends, just the same. -I was a fool and believed her. She asked me to -come back to-morrow, and I said I would.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The next day I met Señor Aguilar, her brother, -and he seemed to be as friendly as if we were -bunkies. He insisted upon my having a drink with -him. He seemed to be glad to know that Maria -and I weren’t so much lovers as he had thought. We -sat most of the afternoon drinking cognac, and I got -more and more pleased at having squared myself -<span class='pageno' id='Page_241'>241</span>with them both. Then some one must have hit me -over the head.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When I came to, my head was bursting. My -hands were bound and I was covered with a sheet -of canvas, being jolted in a little bobbing cart. I -yelled for help, and my only answer was the barrel -of a Mauser rifle stuck in my face. Then I went -off into a stupor, and for the rest of that trip I only -remember heat, thirst, hunger, stiff joints and a -murderous headache. The journey seemed to go -on for years and years, but I didn’t have energy -enough even to wonder what had happened or -where I was going.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Finally I found myself stretched upon a cot in a -white-walled room, looking through a great arched -window into a green <em>patio</em> waving with palms. Señor -Aguilar was standing beside me, smiling wickedly. -Bromo-seltzer wouldn’t have cleared my head the -way the sight of him did.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Señor Roberts,” he said, as soon as he saw -that I was fully conscious, “possibly you may have -suspected that I have not always been charmed at -the attentions you have paid Señorita Maria. However, -you will be glad to learn that I have at last -decided to accept you as my brother-in-law. I have -<span class='pageno' id='Page_242'>242</span>given directions that the marriage ceremony shall take -place to-morrow evening. I shall be honoured by the -alliance, I am sure, for within a week you will be the -only Americano alive on the Island of Luzon. I have -just come from a conference with General Aguinaldo, -and the council of war has set upon February -4th as the date when we shall have the pleasure -of capturing Manila and exterminating your army. -You are at Carrino, a hundred miles from the city, -helpless and unarmed. I think you will see the -advisability of accepting gracefully the privilege of -becoming a member of our distinguished family.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It is barely possible,” he went on, “that you -may feel like declining to become the husband of -Señorita Maria. Americanos are not renowned -for their courtesy. So I give you a day to think it -over. We Aguilars do not often force ourselves -upon strangers, but under the circumstances I consent -to forget our family pride. You may give me -your answer to-morrow.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I knew what he meant. This was a sample of -Spanish revenge with a Filipino barb to it. If I -stayed, I was a branded deserter. I knew that, -and Aguilar knew it too. And he was sure -enough that I’d never marry his sister under those -<span class='pageno' id='Page_243'>243</span>circumstances, or he’d never have made the offer. -The only possible way out of it—although that -seemed hopeless—was to escape, carry the news -to General Otis, and save the army. It would -mean a pardon, and maybe shoulder-straps for me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Could I get away? That was the question. I -had no time to lose. To travel a hundred miles -through an unknown hostile country in a week, -without arms, food or money, was no child’s play. -But I watched my chance.</p> - -<p class='c000'>About sundown a Tagalo woman, homely as a -hedge-fence, came in with my dinner. She hung -round as though she were willing to talk, and I set -to work to see how I could use her. I’d had some -experience with women, and had found them -mostly alike, black and white, and I used every trick -I knew on her. Of all the cyclone love-making I -ever did, that got over the ground the quickest. -I worked so hard I almost meant it, and she rose -to the hook.</p> - -<p class='c000'>That night she got the guard off, filled him up -with <em>bino</em>, and showed me the way out of the plantation -through the banana grove. Outside, she had a -little scrub pony waiting. She pointed to it, and -gave me a general idea of the direction, then put -<span class='pageno' id='Page_244'>244</span>her arms on my shoulders and held up her great -thick lips to be kissed. That was about the hardest -work I had on the whole trip. Then I jumped into -the saddle and pelted down the road like Sheridan -thirty miles away. I thought I was a hero, all -right, and I saw my picture in the papers with -shoulder-straps and the girls kissing me, like Hobson. -It was a grand-stand play to save the army. -As near as I could calculate, that was the night of -January 31st, and I had six days to get to Manila. -It looked easy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I kept as nearly south as I could guess, and -rode that pony almost to death. At daylight I hid -and hobbled him and crawled into the brush to -sleep. When I woke up the nag was lying in a -puddle of blood, hamstrung. That was the first -blow.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There was not a soul in sight, but I imagined -there was a boloman behind every tree. I listened, -and every waving bush scared me worse. -I was actually afraid of the light. If this were the -beginning of the trip, what would the end be? -But I had to go on, and do my best.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I got under cover and crawled like a snake till -I came to a patch of banana trees, where I stopped -<span class='pageno' id='Page_245'>245</span>long enough to eat and to fill my pockets. For two -days I kept it up, making about thirty miles south, -I suppose, dodging villages, skirting the roads and -sleeping most of the daytime. It was hot and -dusty; food was scarce and water scarcer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I fought my way through the tropical night, -tortured by mosquitos, insects, and ants. Luckily -it was near the full of the moon, and I was able to -drag myself along all night. The way gradually -became more moist and swampy. I toiled through -slippery mud, and had often to make detours to avoid -sinking in great morasses. Then, just at dawn of -the third morning I came upon the banks of the -Pasig. Now I had four days more in which to -save the army, and a quiet river to drift down at -night, hiding by daylight, if I could only find something -to float on.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Towards noon, as I lay in the bushes, I saw an -empty boat bobbing down stream. I swam out to -it, hauled it ashore, and hid it in the bushes. That -night I began to paddle down the river, calling myself -“Lieutenant” Roberts.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Twice, before morning, I thought I heard the sound -of oars or paddles behind me, and got inshore to -listen, but nothing appeared. At dawn I drew in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_246'>246</span>to the bank, hid the boat, and crawled to a safe -place and slept like a horse. After I had foraged -for bananas and got back to the river, the boat was -gone! I began to lose hope.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I was certain that I had tied the boat securely, -so I knew now that someone was on my trail. I -had not only to make my way on foot through -the wilderness, but I was to be dogged at every -step. What with the heat, starvation, and growing -fear, I was pretty nearly out of my head, but -the knowledge that upon me alone depended the -safety of the army kept me on, straining every -nerve. If it hadn’t been for that, I would have -given it up right there.</p> - -<p class='c000'>After I had followed the bank of the river for -some distance, some logs came drifting down the -current. I took the chances of being seen, and -swam out and captured two of them. Tied together -with long, tough creepers, they made a -passable raft, and all that night I floated down -stream, paddling as well as I could with my hands. -I passed a lot of houses and villages on the banks, -and so I knew that I was approaching the city. -Sometimes I heard the sound of drums and -bugles, for the insurgents were all over the country -<span class='pageno' id='Page_247'>247</span>raising recruits. I must have been wandering in -my mind by that time, for I wasn’t a bit scared -any more—only watching for wild bananas and -bread-fruit, and wondering how long I’d last. I -succeeded in killing some of the many tame ducks -I saw, and ate them raw, not daring to build a -fire.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Next night the river broadened out into a good-sized -lake. By the look of it, I took it to be Laguna -de Bay, about twenty-five miles from Manila. -I had only that night and the next day to reach -our troops. If the first shot were fired before I -got to the outposts, I might just as well drop into -the Pasig and go to the bottom.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When the sun rose I slid into the water and -struck out for the shore, intending to take my -chances along the bank by daylight. This was -the morning of the 4th of February. Somehow, -some way, I had to get through the circle of the -Filipino lines drawn about the city. I hoped that -I was too close to the town for them to dare to interfere -with an American soldier in the daytime. -So I climbed up a slippery bank and broke into -the brush, about as tired and discouraged as a -man could be and still live.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_248'>248</span>Then—all of a sudden—I was nailed from behind! -The game was up. Somebody gripped me -by the throat. I was so weak, there was no fight -left in me. In half a minute I was bound by a -dozen niggers, who came jumping out of the bushes -and fell on top of me from all sides at once. I -didn’t much care what they were going to do with -me: I had quit. Five days of fear and suspense -and suffering had taken every bit of nerve out of -me.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As soon as I was tied up they began to rush -me along the road, kicking me up every time I -faltered, and jabbing me with bolos when I -fell. I don’t know why I didn’t die right then. -I don’t know why my hair isn’t white.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At last we came to a little nipa hut, guarded -by Filipino soldiers in dirty white uniforms and -bare feet. I was thrown inside, unbound, and -given a gourd of rice. I ate it, hoping it was poisoned. -From all I saw, I was sure the tip about -the outbreak was straight, for the place was bustling -with soldiers coming and going, and I noticed -they all had ammunition.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At about four o’clock I was bound again and -gagged. I thought it was the end, sure, this time, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_249'>249</span>and I was ready to die game. But it was only a -new kind of torture. They prodded me with their -bayonets, marching me to a place where I could -look through the bushes right across a little river. -There, on the other side, was one of our sentries -pacing up and down, and way off I saw the Stars -and Stripes floating in the sun. I could hear a -band playing “There’ll be a hot time,” too. If I -could have yelled across just once and given our -boys warning, I wouldn’t have minded anything -they did to me. But I was gagged. I believe I -cried.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then they took me back to the hut, and night -came on. Every minute that passed made the torture -worse and worse. I didn’t care for myself -any more; I was only thinking about the boys -across the river, all unconscious of what was going -to happen. I knew so well how careless they had -got to be, and what fun they made of the idea that -the niggers could possibly have the nerve to attack -us. They would all be fooling around the streets -of Manila, probably half of them at the theatre or -dancing or in the cafés, leaving only the guard to -take the first rush. It didn’t seem possible that we -could be saved. Our entrenchments would be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_250'>250</span>carried at the first charge, I was sure. The Tagalos -in town would rise, and it would mean a -wholesale massacre.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Of course you know now all about the battle, -for the night of February 4, 1899, is school-book -history by this time. I doubt if there was any -actual date set by Aguinaldo for rushing Manila, -though he had considerable trouble keeping his -cocky little niggers in order. If there was a time -set, it wasn’t that night, anyway. The Filipinos -were getting more insulting every day, and I suppose -it was only a question of a week or so at latest. -But I didn’t know it then. Everybody has -heard by this time how the row opened, with a -Nebraska private shooting at four Tagalos who -tried to pass Block House No. 6. But all I knew -was what Aguilar had told me, and from what I -saw, it looked nasty enough to be true. I could -see that the niggers were prepared to go into -action at a minute’s notice.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So I waited and waited in the hut, dying by -inches. I hoped I had been fooled, and feared -that I wasn’t. I imagined by what I had seen that -I was at San Felipe, on the bank of the San Juan -River, where it joins the Pasig. If so, the Nebraska -<span class='pageno' id='Page_251'>251</span>boys ought to be nearest me. My regiment -was with Ovenshine, to the south of the city, -camped near Malate.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I felt about the way you feel when a tempest is -coming up, and I was just waiting for the first clap -of thunder. Along about half-past eight, I should -say, I heard a single shot ring out, and right off, as -if it had been a signal, the Mausers began to crack -over by the river. The fire increased steadily till -they were shooting all over to the north in the -Tondo District. Company after company of Filipinos -ran past the hut, the officers yelling like mad. -Still, there was nothing but Mausers going, popping -like fire-crackers, and it seemed hours before -the fire was returned. I was sure they had carried -the town. At last I heard a volley of Springfields—I -knew them by the heavy boom, and I -knew then that the Nebraska boys had formed and -had gone into action. I had been with the regulars -long enough to look down on the volunteers; -but when I heard that firing, I just stood up and -yelled! It didn’t die down, but kept up steadily, -and I was sure the boys were holding the Filipinos -back, when the Utah light artillery got into action. -Then, just like a thunderstorm, the noise slowly -<span class='pageno' id='Page_252'>252</span>swept round to the south, and the Springfields took -up the chorus down through Anderson’s Division; -first the California boys and the Idahos of the 1st -Brigade, till about three in the morning the regulars -were engaged. Of course I had to guess it -out from what I knew of the way our troops were -camped, but I imagined I could tell the minute my -regiment began to fight. The Astor Mountain -Battery and the 6th Artillery began to answer the -Filipino’s Krupp guns, and then till daybreak the -battle was going on all round the town.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I waited for the Springfield fire to weaken, -dreading that we would be driven in, but when it -kept up as if it never would stop, I was sure that -we had whipped them. The Filipinos began to -retreat past the hut in disorder, the officers as -badly scared as the privates. I was watching -them, laughing, when four niggers broke into the -hut, tied my arms, packed me on a mule, and -rushed me off.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For four or five days I was carried back and -forth behind the Filipino army, dodging out of -every skirmish, as the Americans pushed Aguinaldo -back all along the circle. One night we spent in -Mariquina, and left early in the morning, while -<span class='pageno' id='Page_253'>253</span>white flags were flying to lure our troops into the -town. Then we travelled southwest towards Pasai. -I wondered what they were keeping me for, -and why they didn’t either kill me or let me go. -Then I remembered what I’d heard of Spanish -prisons, and I stopped wondering and began to -pray.</p> - -<p class='c000'>We ended, finally, in a church the insurgents -were trying to hold while our boys were getting -ready to charge. I was driven up into a bell-tower -half battered to pieces from our shells and -filled with smoke. A squad of natives were firing -from the windows.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There in a corner was Señor Aguilar, in the -uniform of a Filipino colonel, and I knew that my -case was to be settled at last. He looked black. -I didn’t have long to wait this time. The niggers -threw me down, and put a Filipino uniform blouse -on me, taking it from a dead soldier on the floor. -I didn’t try to resist. What was the use?</p> - -<p class='c000'>Then Aguilar said to me: “I hope you have -enjoyed your journey, Señor Roberts. My men -took care to make it as interesting as possible. A -man who has the courage to refuse the hand of an -Aguilar deserves distinguished treatment.” He -<span class='pageno' id='Page_254'>254</span>got as far as that with his Spanish sarcasm, and -then his native Filipino savagery got the better of -him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You d—— fool, did you think for a moment -that I’d let an American hound like you marry my -sister? Do you think I would let a man live who -had played with her? No, by heaven, nor die, -either, except like a dog. I have let you live long -enough to be hanged by your own countrymen. -You’re a deserter, and I’ve given some interesting -information to your spies. And you’ll be caught -fighting in our ranks!” Then he drew his revolver -and pointed to the dead Filipino on the floor. -“Take that gun, and go to the window, and shoot -down your brother dogs!” he cried.</p> - -<p class='c000'>I don’t know why I didn’t shoot him, instead, -right there, but I had lost my nerve. I went to -the window and fired at a bare space. And then, -if you’ll believe it, I saw my own regimental flag -coming up with Old Glory, as my own bunkies -formed for the rush. It was Colonel Knowlton’s -command that was to take the church. I don’t -know what ever became of Aguilar, for I just -stood up in the window and cheered as the boys -came on. They charged with a yell that did my -<span class='pageno' id='Page_255'>255</span>heart good to hear, for I lost myself and my danger -watching the way they did the work.</p> - -<p class='c000'>But I remembered soon enough. The Filipino -fire died away, and the insurgents scurried out of -the building like rats. I was pulled back with -them as they retreated, but as we crossed a dry -creek bed I stumbled and fell. Just then a detachment -of my own company came up, skirmishing, -and saw me. I threw up my hands, and a corporal -covered me. I knew him well; he used to -drive in the little donkey-cart with me in Manila -when I marketed.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He dropped his rifle and said, “Good God! -It’s Roberts.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>I tried to explain how I’d been knocked out and -captured, but they wouldn’t believe me. I had -been posted for a deserter, and Aguilar had fixed -me. All I could do was to ask them to shoot me -right there, as if I had been killed in the battle. -But they had cooled down some while I talked, -and they couldn’t do it in cold blood. Finally, the -corporal said:</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here, boys, I enlisted to fight, and not to -be a hangman. Roberts has messed with me, and -I can’t do it. Perhaps what he says is true; I -<span class='pageno' id='Page_256'>256</span>don’t know. If you want to arrest him, go ahead. -But I’ll be darned if I want it said that the old -114th had to shoot a deserter. Come on, and let -him take his chances!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He turned his back on me, and they followed -him. I ripped off my canvas coat and ran down -the creek and hid till night.</p> - -<p class='c000'>There wasn’t a man on the whole island, nigger -or white, who wasn’t my enemy, and I didn’t expect -I’d ever escape. But there was a woman. -She wasn’t exactly the kind you’d ever suspect of -having a heart, but she saved my life. She hid -me in a shed outside of the town, and fed me and -nursed me till I was able to get away on a blockade -runner and come to San Francisco. I owe -that woman something, and if I’m ever flush again, -she’ll get it back.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So it was a woman who sent me to the Philippines, -it was a woman who got my promotion, a -woman who tortured me like a fiend, and a woman -who saved me. And the queer part of it is that -the last one was what most people would call the -worst of the lot!</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh Drake was seeing his own phantoms of -<span class='pageno' id='Page_257'>257</span>the Philippines on his cot; the man with the yellow -beard, Maidslow, <em>alias</em> Roberts, was looking -with eyes that saw beyond the walls of the Hammam, -when the Hero of Pago Bridge brought himself -back with a jerk.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You’ve told me all except how you got here,” -he said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Plain drunk,” said Maidslow, “the first I dared -get after I left the Islands. But it isn’t safe for me -to stay in San Francisco, now Colonel Knowlton is -back here. If Maxie saw through the beard, he -will, and the place is full of Secret Service men.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Admeh Drake suddenly jumped from the couch.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What will you give me if I get that legacy for -you?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A thousand dollars.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Done!” cried the Hero. “See here, it’s too -easy! Colonel Knowlton don’t know your real -name’s Maidslow, does he?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, I enlisted as Roberts.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Dead to rights. He’ll take Maxie’s word -when she identifies her husband to him. All right -again. Well, let me play Harry Maidslow, and go -with Maxie to the Colonel. I take my thousand, -and you take the rest and—Maxie. How’s that?”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_258'>258</span>“If Maxie will stand for it, I’m ready,” said the -deserter.</p> - -<p class='c000'>During the rest of the night, the man who went -for a soldier and wished he hadn’t, and the man -who didn’t go and wished that he had, lay in an -upper corridor of the Hammam discussing the details -of their conspiracy.</p> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>CHAPTER IX<br /> <span class='large'>THE WARDS OF FORTUNE</span></h2> -</div> - -<p class='drop-capa0_0_6 c010'>Soothed by the drone of the Retired Car -Conductor’s narrative, and wearied out with -the continuous performance of the night’s -adventures, the Harvard Freshman fell asleep on -the wooden bench in his cell at the Tanks; and it -was not until a heavy hand was laid on his shoulder -that he awoke. A bluff policeman was standing -over him.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Your order for release has come, and you can -go now! You and your pardner was asleep, and -I clean forgot you.”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_259'>259</span>The officer had a similar word with the Conductor, -and led the two prisoners out into the corridor. -While they were waiting for their property -to be taken from the boxes in which it had been -stored, Eli Cook felt idly in his pocket and drew -out a torn scrap of red paper marked with Chinese -writing.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s all they left on me when I was -searched,” he said, with a feeble grin. “Want it -for a souvenir of a happy evenin’? It dropped -out of a Chinaman’s pocket yesterday up to Dupont -Street, and I picked it up.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Freshman took it, in the same spirit of -mockery, and stuffed it into his own pocket to keep -company with several pawn tickets. As they went -together into the street the city bells were striking -two o’clock.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Gosh!” Coffin cried, with a burst of his old -fervor, “I feel like the chairman of a woman’s club -after an annual election. Where you going to feed -your visage, old man?” he added tentatively. He -was out of funds, hungry and weary. The hundred -dollars won from the Klondyker in the smoking -wager, deposited for bail, had, in fact, completely -exhausted his resources. The Conductor, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_260'>260</span>however, refused to take the hint, and manifested -a desire to get away.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, I got to snoop back to the Beach,” he -said. “This has been a hard day for me, and -I dunno how I’m a-goin’ to get even on my hundred -if I have to stand trial. I ain’t exactly -hungry, anyway, but perhaps I’ll stew up some -canned stuff out to the cars. Want to come along? -You’ll have to walk, though, and it’s full seven -miles through the Park.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“No, thanks,” said Coffin, dryly. “I’ve got a -poke-out coming to me at nine, and I guess I can -wait. I’ll walk up and down, and let the girls admire -me for a season.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well, good-by, then!” said Eli Cook of Carville-by-the-Sea, -and he hurriedly made off down -Kearney Street.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The youngster mused. “I shall now endeavor to -give the correct imitation of a thousand-dollar sport -in the act of starving to death. I am wondering, -in my simple Japanese way, whether that gentle -Klondyker with my prize money in tow, will ever -swim into my ken again. It’s a good deal like trying -to find a pet oyster in a mud flat, but I’ll try -my best. Angels, they say, can do no more. Selah!” -<span class='pageno' id='Page_261'>261</span>With that he walked up to Gunschke’s -cigar store and found the young man who had -assisted at the smoking orgy of the night before. -The clerk, however, knew nothing of the Klondyker’s -whereabouts, having never seen the Father -of the Katakoolanat previous to the debauch. The -Freshman was in a quandary.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Say, has your luck changed yet?” the salesman -asked. “Last time I heard, the curve was -still rising.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“By Jove, I had forgotten all about that,” cried -Coffin. “Let’s see, I won my hundred at the -wager, then I won my thousand, more or less, in -the Chinese lottery, but then I was pulled, and -dropped the hundred at the Tanks. The grand -psychological query is, Do I get that thou’? If I -had a nickel to my name I’d put the delicate question -to the Oracle of the Slot and find out how I -stand on Fortune’s Golden Rolls.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, I’ll stake you; here you are,” the salesman -answered, tossing out a nickel. “I’d like to know -myself. If you’re still winning I’ll take you out to -the race-track and let you do my betting.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Freshman pushed the coin down the slot of -the poker machine and jerked the handle. Three -<span class='pageno' id='Page_262'>262</span>treys appeared behind the wire. “Bully!” cried -the salesman. “Here, you draw four cigars!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nay, nay, Pauline!” Coffin exclaimed in disgust. -“I wouldn’t eat another cigar to be crowned -King of the Barbary Coast! I can never endure -the smell of tobacco again without being as sea-sick -as a cat in a swing. Much obliged for your charity, -but I’ll call it square for the good omen.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Irrationally cheered by the portent, James Wiswell -Coffin, 3d, wandered out aimlessly and floated -with the throng down towards the cheaper end of -Kearney Street. The cool, green, grassy square -at the Old Plaza attracted him, and he entered the -little park.</p> - -<hr class='c013' /> - -<p class='c000'>Meanwhile, the plot hatched by the Hero of -Pago Bridge and the deserter of the Philippines -had gone forward without a hitch. Drake and -Maidslow had met Maxie at the Biograph Theatre, -and she had consented to visit Colonel Knowlton -and represent Drake as her missing husband, -that Maidslow might be safe from being recognised -and apprehended by the Secret Service men as a -deserter. Both husband and wife were affected -at this meeting, after so many years, and it was -<span class='pageno' id='Page_263'>263</span>evident to the Hero that a reconciliation would be -easily arranged. Both were lonely. Maxie had -worked so hard and Maidslow had lived so adventurously -that the prospect of settling down to a -peaceful married life attracted them equally. This -was now possible if the legacy of old Max could -be collected safely from the Colonel. Their -scheme was nothing less them conspiracy; but, after -all, Maidslow, her real husband, would be the one -profited, for he would receive the money. Maxie’s -conscience was assuaged by this consideration.</p> - -<p class='c000'>At 10.30 that morning Maxie and Drake called -upon the Colonel at the army headquarters and -passed the ordeal successfully. The officer was -too busy to spend much time in investigation, and, -knowing Maxie as well as he did, it did not occur -to him to suspect fraud. At any rate, the check -for $15,000, which he passed over to Admeh -(made payable to Harry Maidslow) would not be -cashed without proper identification, and the bank -would relieve the Colonel of this necessity. He -congratulated them on their reunion, and dismissed -them in relief that the responsibility of his trust was -over.</p> - -<p class='c000'>How Maidslow was to cash the check was now -<span class='pageno' id='Page_264'>264</span>the question. It was easily solved, at a meeting of -the three principals in the plot, by the decision that -old Dietrich, the proprietor of the Biograph Theatre, -could identify the payee. He would undoubtedly -believe Maxie’s introduction of Maidslow as -her husband, as this time, at least, she would be -speaking the truth. They left Admeh Drake on the -sidewalk while they proceeded to this next step.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The old Dutchman was canny, however. “How -do I know dat dis man is your huspant?” he said. -“You say so, Maxie, put I neffer seen him pefore! -See here, didn’t you say Harry Maidslow hat a -tattoo mark on his arm alretty? He hat a girl’s -name ’Dotty,’ you tole me once. Lemme see dat -mark, and I vill itentify him, sure! Den I know it’s -all right!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>This was easily proved. Maidslow stripped up -his sleeve and exhibited the tattoo mark, and old -Dietrich was convinced. He put on his hat to accompany -them to the bank. Excusing himself for -a moment, Maidslow slipped out and spoke to Admeh -Drake.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s all right, Drake, we’re going right down to -cash the check. You get away before Dietrich -sees you and gets suspicious, and I’ll meet you with -<span class='pageno' id='Page_265'>265</span>the thousand dollars at Lotta’s Fountain in half an -hour!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Drake walked down Market Street. In a few -minutes he saw Maxie, Maidslow, and the old -Dutchman approaching. He kept out of sight -while they passed him, on their way to Montgomery -Street, where the bank was located. Then he -commenced his vigil at Lotta’s Fountain.</p> - -<p class='c000'>This is the very hub and centre of San Francisco, -in the heart of the shopping district, and the -strategic point for confidence men, tourists, loiterers, -and sports. The three great newspaper buildings -form here a towering group against the sky, and -the Palace Hotel, a massive block honeycombed -with windows, is within a stone’s throw. About -him eddied the principal currents of the town, -carrying their heterogeneous collection of humanity. -The fountain is an island in the triangular -opening formed by the union of Geary, Kearney, -and Market streets, and each of these important -thoroughfares contributed to the liveliness of the -place. Groups of brightly gowned women were -awaiting the cable cars to take them to the Oakland -Ferry, cheap actors promenaded up the Rialto of -Market Street, the Geary Street cars swung on the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_266'>266</span>turn-table, impeding the traffic, and along the sidewalk -on Kearney Street the flower-venders made -a vivid splotch of color. The whole place was -alive and bustling, and time went fast with the -watcher at the gilded fountain where no one drank.</p> - -<p class='c000'>When Admeh Drake looked up to the clock -tower above his head, he was surprised to see that -it was already a quarter to twelve. He had -waited nearly an hour. He began to be impatient, -nervous, suspicious. Maidslow should have -returned with Maxie long before this. Something -must have happened, or else—he grew frightened -at the thought—they had given him the slip, and -would avoid paying him the thousand dollars as his -share of the plot. He waited now with less hope. -Surely, if they were coming at all, they would have -returned before this. He lost interest in the passers-by, -and watched only for the two who were -to bring him his reward.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The clock struck noon, and the throng was -swelled by clerks and business men released for -their lunch hour. One o’clock, and the tide -poured back again. Two, and he grew weary -with standing, and sat upon the pedestal of the -Fountain. Three, and he gave up all hope. The -<span class='pageno' id='Page_267'>267</span>excitement which had kept him up all night relaxed. -He was faint and limp from lack of food -and sleep.</p> - -<p class='c000'>So he, too, joined the human current and drifted -along Kearney Street with no set plan of action.</p> - -<p class='c000'>He turned into the Old Plaza, at Portsmouth -Square, his eyes caught by a sparkle of light from -the gilded sails of the little bronze ship on the -Stevenson Memorial. He walked nearer to see -what it was, and as he approached he perceived a -young man in a red sweater reading the inscription -on the marble shaft. It was the Harvard Freshman.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“<em>To be honest, to be kind</em>,” Coffin was reading, -“<em>to earn a little and to spend a little less, to make -upon the whole a family happier for his presence</em>”—and -then he turned away with a bitter protest in -his throat, to see the Hero of Pago Bridge looking -over his shoulder.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Pretty, ain’t it!” said Admeh Drake, and he, -too, looked at the immortal quotation from the -“Christmas sermon.” Had it been written for -him alone, it could not have stung him more -fiercely.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“—<em>To renounce, when that shall be necessary, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_268'>268</span>not be embittered, to keep a few friends, but these without -capitulation—above all, on the same grim condition, -to keep friends with himself—here is a task for -all that a man has of fortitude and delicacy</em>.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He turned to Coffin with despair in his eye, all -that was best in him writhing at these graven -words. “Say, what the hell did they stick that -up here for, right where every man that has failed -can read it and eat out his heart?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffin slapped him on the back in sympathy, for -even the irrepressible Freshman seemed for the -moment to be touched by the admonitory legend. -But he was not one to be serious for long, and after -that one swift glance into his soul, his customary -spirit asserted itself.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See here,” he said, “this is the way I look at -it. You can’t have good luck with your conscience -all the time, any more’n you can with your -purse. Moral: cultivate your forgettery! We -meet under the shadow of the good ship <em>Bonaventure</em>, -aforesaid ship being full of buccaneers and -sailing over a Sublime Moral Precept, by R. L. S. -I doubt if he would claim he was always such an -angel himself if anybody should drive up in a -chariot and ask him. Lastly, my brethren, why be -<span class='pageno' id='Page_269'>269</span>phazed at a dozen lines of type? Discard your -doubts and draw to the glorious flush of hope. -Amen. Let’s have a drink.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They pledged each other somewhat forlornly in -Spring Valley water, and then Coffin remarked, -“By the way, what did you do with the dime Coffee -John gave you? Made a fortune yet?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I made a thousand dollars, but I’ve got it to -get. I’ve roped her, but I can’t throw her yet.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“A thou’?” Coffin exclaimed, “the devil you -have! Jupiter, but that’s queer! Why, that’s -my fix, precisely. I got it on the hook all right, but -I couldn’t haul it into the boat.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Exchanging confidences over the night’s adventures, -the two wandered up to the top of the sloping -Plaza, where the back of the Woey Sen Low -restaurant arose, three stories high, an iron balcony -projecting from each tier of windows.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Let’s come up to the chink’s Delmonico,” suggested -the Freshman. “You can get a great view -of the city from up there, and you don’t have to -spend money if you don’t want to.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>They went round to the front entrance, ascended -the stairs, and filed past empty tables, gaining the -balcony. As they stood gazing over San Francisco -<span class='pageno' id='Page_270'>270</span>they heard steps approaching from behind, -and two persons came into the nearest room. -Coffin, who was standing with Drake, out of sight -of the new arrivals, peeped round the corner of a -porcelain lantern.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“It’s a woman,” he whispered. “And a peach-erlooloo -of the first degree, too, by Jove! Nigger -or Kanacker blood, though. Let’s go through and -have a look at her.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Drake assented. They entered the open doorway -and passed carelessly through the room. A -man at the table looked up and nodded.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Whittaker!” said the Freshman, when they -were out of sight, “the medium, as I exist! I wonder -how he ever got into a friendly mix-up with -that chocolate-colored fairy. There was no heroine -with raven locks in mine.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>At this moment Vango appeared and stuck a -dirty finger in Coffin’s buttonhole. The medium’s -hair was matted and stringy, his clothes wrinkled -and spotted in a shocking disorder. “Come in -here,” he said. “I want to make you acquainted -with a lady friend,” and he escorted the adventurers -where the Quadroon sat, already clad in -widow’s weeds.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_271'>271</span>“Mrs. Moy Kip, let me introduce—Mr.”—here -he hesitated, and was prompted—“Mr. Coffin -and Mr. Drake. Set down, gents. This here -lady has suffered recent a sad and tragical bereavement. -I was just about to console her when you -passed by, and I hoped you might help distrack her -mind from gloomious thoughts and reflections. The -party what has just passed out, you understand, was -a Chinee, but he is now on the happy side of Jordan, -in the spirit spere, and we are some in hopes -of having the pleasure of his society to-night in astral -form, if the conditions is favorable.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Here he nudged the Freshman under the table, -and Coffin passed the hint to Drake, neither of -them knowing exactly what was expected of them.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Do you speak Chinese, madam?” inquired the -Freshman, at a loss how to begin the conversation. -“I’ve often wondered about these signs in here. I -suppose they’re mottoes from Confucius. Perhaps -you wouldn’t mind translating some.” He pointed -to several long, narrow strips of colored paper -which hung from the walls.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, I only know a little Chinese, just about -enough to read a common business letter in the -Cantonese dialect,” said the Quadroon.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_272'>272</span>Coffin recalled the scrap of paper given him by -the retired conductor in the Tanks, and he drew -it from his pocket to show to her. The sharp -black eyes of the ex-medium, sharpened by long -practice, fastened upon it, and he darted a skinny -hand.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Here you are!” he cried excitedly to the -Quadroon. “I told you I’d find it, and I done it! -Look at that, Mrs. Moy Kip, and see if it ain’t the -very same identical piece of paper you was a-searchin’ -for. Oh, I felt it a-comin’ just now when this -gentleman entered into the room. I felt a wave of -self-independent spirit message, and I seen a red -aura round his head, thereby denotin’ he was a -Psychie.” Exultant as he was, however, he looked -over his shoulder fearfully as if he dreaded interruption.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Quadroon had taken another scrap of red -paper from her bosom and tremblingly placed the -torn edges of the two together. They fitted exactly. -She suddenly rose with set eyes and mouth, and -ran towards the stairs without a word.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Vango followed her, leaving Drake and Coffin to -wonder at the cause of the excitement. After a -few moments the Professor returned trembling, pale, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_273'>273</span>and crestfallen. He sank into a seat and covered -his face with his hands.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Mrs. Higgins! Mrs. Higgins!” he moaned. -“I just see her out by the stairs! She wouldn’t let -me by! Oh, God, she’s after me again! And -that nigger woman’s gone and I’ve lost her. Think -of it, after all I’ve went through, to lose her just as -I was winnin’!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked up haggardly and pounded his fist on -the table. “By Jimminy Christmas! That there -piece of paper was worth a thousand dollars, gents, -to me, and I’ve lost it!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Drake and Coffin exchanged glances of amused -surprise, and Vango added weakly, looking at the -Freshman, “Much obliged, I’m sure, Mr. Coffin.” -He was wondering if he would be asked to divide -the prize, in case he got it.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, don’t mention it, old chap,” Coffin answered, -“you’re welcome to all you can make out -of that paper with your flim-flam. That sort of -humbuggery isn’t exactly in my line. But suppose -you put us wise as to the facts in the case.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The ex-medium, still trembling with the memory -of his supernatural fears and discomfited by the escape -of the woman, pulled himself together, and -<span class='pageno' id='Page_274'>274</span>told of the remarkable series of events which had -brought him, that morning, to Hunter’s Point in a -launch containing a Quadroon woman, a dead Chinaman, -a scrap of paper, and $2,000 worth of smuggled -opium.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I’ve been working the widow soft and easy -ever since,” he said. “Gettin’ that first piece of -paper was what I incline to denominate a masterpiece, -but this findin’ of the missin’ half right in -your pocket is nothin’ less than inspirational second-sight. -She ought to think herself lucky to have fell -in with me at no cost to herself for a sittin’ whatever. -But will she pay up? That’s the question. -Niggers is creditable, but they is also tricky. But -anyways, I bet them two Chinese highbinders is apt -to meet Moy Kip on the opposite shore to-night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>It grew dark as they sat there, and when they -had finished their stories they went out upon the -balcony again. The light on the Ferry tower -burned like a star against the waters of the Bay. -The street lamps followed suit, and the night closed -in. The three Picaroons were in the first quiet -exhilaration that follows hunger and fatigue. Except -for the Freshman’s broken rest at the Tanks, -not one of them had slept since their meeting the -<span class='pageno' id='Page_275'>275</span>previous evening; not one of them had eaten. Their -eyes were glassy, but not yet sleepy; they were like -dead men who could still walk and speak. A dull -fever burned in their veins. Talk, then, grew faint, -and even thought flickered but dimly. There was -nothing positive to look forward to but Coffee John’s -invitation to supper at nine o’clock, so they waited -listlessly for the hour. Finally, a proposal from the -indefatigable Coffin to wander through the Chinese -quarter lured them out.</p> - -<p class='c000'>They turned into Ross Alley. This narrow lane -of shops and gambling houses was swarming with -passers-by. As the three men entered the passage, -the sound of banging doors preceded them; the -outer guards of the fan-tan resorts, catching sight of -white faces and fearing detectives, were slamming -and bolting the entrances.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Before they had gone half the length of the alley, -Coffin noticed a Chinaman in felt hat and blue blouse -standing idly by a lamp-post, and behind him a -second man, leaning against a brick wall. The -Freshman’s alert eye awoke and took the two in at -a glance, for he noted something vaguely furtive in -their apparently careless attitudes.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Now another Chinese approached the two figures -<span class='pageno' id='Page_276'>276</span>at a rapid pace, holding one hand hidden in his -blouse. A few feet behind him a coolie followed, -looking sharply to the right and left. Coffin was -just about to call Drake’s attention to them, when, -without warning, the man by the lamp whipped out -a revolver and fired point blank at the one approaching. -The pistol barked three times in rapid succession, -then the weapon was swiftly handed to the -loafer by the wall. It was like the passing of the -ball to the quarter-back in a football game, for, on -the instant, these two and another broke through -the crowd and ran in different directions. As they -started, the bodyguard of the wounded man drew -his own pistol and sent a stream of bullets after the -fugitives.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The fusillade scattered the crowd in the alley. -The Chinese dodged this way and that, escaping -into doors and down cross lanes to avoid the -officers who would soon appear to question them. -The Freshman pulled his companions hurriedly into -a little shop, and, whirling them back to the door, -drew their surprised attention to a case of jade ornaments.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Lay low,” he exclaimed, “the police will be -here in a moment, and we don’t want to be run in -<span class='pageno' id='Page_277'>277</span>and held for witnesses. We couldn’t identify the -chink, anyway. I say let ’em have it out their own -way.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He looked out and saw a plain-clothes detective -running down the alley to where the dead man lay. -From the other end of the passage two officers in -uniform came up, sweeping a dozen Chinese in -front of them. One policeman lined the fugitives -in front of him, while the other examined them for -weapons. As none were found, the crowd was -rapidly dispersed. The detective looked in at the -shop door.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Did you see the shooting?” he asked.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“We got to the door here just in time to see -three men running, but I didn’t catch their faces,” -said Coffin coolly. “What’s the row?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, another Tong war,” said the detective. -“Moy Kip was shot last night, and this one is the -first one to pay up the score. Of course we can’t -do nothing without no witnesses except this monkey!” -and he went about his business.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Well,” said Professor Vango, as they passed -from the scene, “that’s the finishin’ conclusion to my -picnic. I hope yourn won’t end so tragic.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I don’t know,” the Freshman replied, “you -<span class='pageno' id='Page_278'>278</span>may find your dusky beauty yet. Then Drake has -to catch his soubrette, and I would fain discover the -gentle Klondyker. I consider it about horse and -horse. Funny! Here each of us has made a thousand -dollars, and not one is any better off than he -was last night, plum broke! That’s what we used -to call a paradox at Harvard, in ’English 13.’ -And I’m carnivorously hungry to boot. I haven’t -bitten anything except a cigar since the feed last -night.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nor me, neither,” asserted the Professor.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Here too!” said Admeh Drake.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Then it would seem to be up to Coffee John -again. He seems to be the god in this machine. -Come on, and we’ll give an imitation of a three-stamp -mill crushing ore!” So saying, still jubilant, -still heartening them with frivolous prattle, the Harvard -Freshman piloted his comrades down Clay -Street.</p> - -<p class='c000'>As they passed the old Plaza, Drake looked over -his shoulder once or twice and said, “I reckon -we’re being followed, pardners. There’s a chink -been on our trail ever since we turned out of the -lane, up yonder. I hope they ain’t got it in for us -because we saw the scrap!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_279'>279</span>The soft-footed coolie was half a block behind -them, when, without a word of explanation, Coffin -suddenly bolted and ran up Kearney Street. Vango -gave a gasp and clutched the cowboy’s arm.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“What’s the matter?” he whimpered. “Where’s -Coffin went? Is he scared?”</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You can search me!” Drake said, philosophically. -“I give it up, unless he’s running to get an -appetite for dinner. Don’t you fret, I’ll stand by -you if there’s any trouble.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Taking the medium’s arm, he walked down Clay -Street until they came to Coffee John’s window. -Then, looking round, they saw the Chinaman coming -up to them boldly, with a grin on his face.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You name Vango?” the coolie said.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“That’s right! What d’you want with him?” -the cowboy replied, for the Professor was too -frightened to answer.</p> - -<p class='c000'>The Chinaman felt inside his blouse, while -Drake watched for the first sight of a weapon. -Nothing more formidable was brought forth, however, -than a smallish paper-wrapped parcel. Vango -took it cautiously. It was suspiciously heavy.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Moy Kip wife send,” explained the Chinaman, -and retreated up the street.</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_280'>280</span>The medium, in an agony of excitement, opened -the parcel by the light of the window. It contained -fifty golden double eagles. His little beady -black eyes sparkling, he jubilantly entered the restaurant -with Drake.</p> - -<p class='c000'>Close on their heels came James Wiswell Coffin, -3d, waving a bunch of greenbacks above his head. -“I got him! Oh, I got the green-eyed Klondyker -all right!” he cried. “He had cashed my lottery -ticket, and he handed me over ten hundred pea-green -dollars! Oh, frabjous day, we dine, we -dine to-night!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Coffee John, who had been conversing with -some unseen patron in a tiny, curtained-off room in -the rear of the shop, now came forward and greeted -the Picaroons.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“My word,” he remarked, “yer do look bloomin’ -’appy, reg’lar grinnin’ like a Chinee at a Mission -Sabbath School! All but Dryke,” he added, -noticing his favorite’s gloomy looks, in sharp contrast -to the delight of the others. “Wot’s wrong? -Ain’t your aig ’atched, too? Well, per’aps it will, -yet. They’s a lydy a-wytin’ darn in thet there room -for you. Been there a ’arf hour an’ is nar nacherly -a bit impytient. Looks like a narce gal, too, -<span class='pageno' id='Page_281'>281</span>if she didn’t put so much flar on her fyce. She -may ’ave good news for yer.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>Drake started before Coffee John finished, and, -entering the little compartment, found Maxie Morrow -awaiting him. He held out his hand in -pleased surprise. She offered him a thick envelope -in return.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Oh, I’m in an awful hurry,” she began, “and -I haven’t a minute to spare. I’m afraid you thought -we weren’t going to keep our word, but really, Mr. -Drake, we couldn’t help it! I was so sorry to -keep you waiting so long, but, just as we left the -Bank, I saw Colonel Knowlton come in. I was so -afraid he’d suspect something, seeing me there with -Harry, instead of with you, and Harry was so -afraid the Colonel would put the Secret Service -men on his track, that we jumped on a car and -went right to my house on Bush Street, and Harry -has been afraid to show himself outdoors since. -We’re going to try to get away to-morrow to -Southern California, but I was just bound that you -should have your thousand dollars, so I brought it -down here. Lucky you told Harry you were coming -to Coffee John’s, wasn’t it? Now, good-by, -and good luck to you!”</p> - -<p class='c000'><span class='pageno' id='Page_282'>282</span>With that she rustled out of the restaurant, and -Drake joined the group at the counter.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“Nort by no means!” Coffee John was saying. -“Tortoni’s be blowed! If Coffee John’s peach pie -an’ corfee ain’t good enough fer yer to-night, yer -can go and eat withart me. Fust thing, I want to -hear the tyles told. Afore I begin to ’elp yer eat -your money, I want to know ’ow it’s come by! -After thet, I don’t sye as I won’t accep’ a invitytion -to dine proper.”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The proprietor was insistent, and though a thousand -dollars burned in each pocket, the Picaroons, -so gloriously come into port, sat down to a more -modest repast than had been set in that room the -night before. Between mouthfuls, one after the -other told to his benefactor the story of his lucky -dime—the Freshman with a tropic wealth of flowery -trope and imagery, the ex-Medium with unction -and self-satisfied glibness, the Hero of Pago Bridge -with his customary simplicity. Not one of them -expected the flagon of morality that was to be -broached by their host, forbye.</p> - -<p class='c000'>For, as the tales developed, Coffee John’s face -grew set in sterner disapproval. Coffin’s story -moulded disdain upon the Cockney’s lip—the recital -<span class='pageno' id='Page_283'>283</span>of Professor Vango altered this expression to scorn—but -at the confession of Admeh Drake the proprietor’s -face froze in absolute contempt, and he -arose in a towering wrath.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“See ’ere, gents,” he began, folding his red bare -arms, “though w’y I should call yer thet, w’ich yer -by no means ain’t, I don’t know—nar I see wot -good it is to plyce a mistaken charity in kindness! -I’ve went an’ throwed awye me thirty cents on yer, -blow me if I ain’t! I said yer was ’ard cyses, an’ -yer <em>be</em> ’ard cyses, an’ so yer’ll nacherly continue -till yer all bloomin’ well jugged for it!</p> - -<p class='c000'>“You, Coffin,” he pointed with severity, “you -’ave conspired against the laws of this ’ere Styte -w’ich forbids a gyme o’ charnce, besides ’avin’ -patronized a Chinee lottery, w’ich same is also illegal. -You, Vango, ’ave comparnded a felony, by -bein’ a receiver o’ stolen goods subjick to dooty in -Federal customs. And you, Dryke, who, bite me -if I didn’t ’ave a soft spot in me ’art for, yer’ve -gone an’ went an’ obtayned money under false pretences, -an’ ’arbored an’ abetted a desarter from the -harmy o’ your country, for if you believe that there -cock-an’-a-bull story, I don’t!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>He raised his arms threateningly, like an outraged -<span class='pageno' id='Page_284'>284</span>Jove. “Git art from under me roof, all o’ -yer! Yer no better than lags in the Pen!”</p> - -<p class='c000'>The three Picaroons passed through the door -and faded into the darkness. The Cockney watched -them separate, and then reëntering his shop, turned -out the lamp and locked the door.</p> - -<p class='c000'>“I feed no more bums!” said Coffee John.</p> - -<div class='nf-center-c1'> -<div class='nf-center c004'> - <div>The End</div> - </div> -</div> - -<div class='pbb'> - <hr class='pb c003' /> -</div> -<div class='tnotes'> - -<div class='chapter'> - <h2 class='c005'>TRANSCRIBER’S NOTES</h2> -</div> - <ol class='ol_1 c004'> - <li>Added “The Mystery of the Hammam” to the Contents on p. <a href='#viii'>viii</a>. - - </li> - <li>Silently corrected typographical errors. - - </li> - <li>Retained anachronistic and non-standard spellings as printed. - </li> - </ol> - -</div> - - - - - - - - -<pre> - - - - - -End of Project Gutenberg's The Picaroons, by Gelett Burgess and Will Irwin - -*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE PICAROONS *** - -***** This file should be named 55164-h.htm or 55164-h.zip ***** -This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: - http://www.gutenberg.org/5/5/1/6/55164/ - -Produced by Richard Tonsing and the Online Distributed -Proofreading Team at http://www.pgdp.net (This file was -produced from images generously made available by The -Internet Archive) - - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United -States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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