Somewhere in Red Gap

  VI

  COUSIN EGBERT INTERVENES

  "It takes all kinds of foreigners to make a world," said MaPettengill--irrelevantly I thought, because the remark seemed to beinspired merely by the announcement of Sandy Sawtelle that the muleJerry's hip had been laid open by a kick from the mule Alice, and thatthe bearer of the news had found fourteen stitches needed to mend therent.

  Sandy brought his news to the owner of the Arrowhead as she relaxed inmy company on the west veranda of the ranch house and scented the goldendusk with burning tobacco of an inferior but popular brand. I listenedbut idly to the minute details of the catastrophe, discovering moreentertainment in the solemn wake of light a dulled sun was leaving as itslipped over the sagging rim of Arrowhead Pass. And yet, through myabsorption with the shadows that now played far off among the foldedhills, there did come sharply the impression that this Sawtelle personwas dwelling too insistently upon the precise number of stitchesrequired by the breach in Jerry's hide.

  "Fourteen--yes, ma'am; fourteen stitches. That there Alice mule sureneeds handling. Fourteen regular ones. I'd certainly show her where tohead in at, like now she was my personal property. Me, I'd abuse hershamefully. Only eleven I took last time in poor old Jerry; and here nowit's plumb fourteen--yes, ma'am; fourteen good ones. Say, you getfourteen of them stitches in your hide, and I bet--thought, at first, Icould make twelve do, but it takes full fourteen, with old Jerry nearlytearing the chute down while I was taking these fourteen--"

  I began to see numbers black against that glowing panorama in the west.A monstrous 14 repeated itself stubbornly along the gorgeous reach ofit.

  "Yes, ma'am--fourteen; you can go out right now and count 'em yourself.And like mebbe I'll have to go down to town to-morrow for some more ofthat King of Pain Liniment, on account of Lazarus and Bryan getting goodand lamed in this same mix-up, and me letting fall the last bottle wehad on the place and busting her wide open--"

  "Don't you bother to bust any more!" broke in his employer in a tonethat I found crisp with warning. "There's a whole new case of King ofPain in the storeroom."

  "Huh!" exclaimed the surgeon, ably conveying disappointment thereby."And like now if I did go down I could get the new parts for that theremower--"

  "That's something for me to worry about exclusively. I'll begin when wegot something to mow." There was finished coldness in this.

  "Huh!" The primitive vocable now conveyed a lively resentment, butthere was the pleading of a patient sufferer in what followed. "And likeat the same time, having to make the trip anyway for these here suppliesand things, I could stop just a minute at Doc Martingale's and have thisold tooth of mine took out, that's been achin' like a knife stuck in mefur the last fourteen--well, fur about a week now--achin' night andday--no sleep at all now fur seven, eight nights; so painful I getregular delirious, let me tell you. And, of course, all wore out the wayI am, I won't be any good on the place till my agony's relieved. Why,what with me suffering so horrible, I just wouldn't hardly know my ownname sometimes if you was to come up and ask me!"

  The woman's tone became more than ever repellent.

  "Never you mind about not knowing your own name. I got it on the payroll, and it'll still be there to-morrow if you're helping Buck get outthe rest of them fence posts like I told you. If you happen to get stuckfor your name when I ain't round, and the inquiring parties won't wait,just ask the Chinaman; he never forgets anything he's learned once. OrI'll write it out on a card, so you can show it to anybody who rides upand wants to know it in a hurry!"

  "Huh!"

  The powers of this brief utterance had not yet been exhausted. It nowconveyed despair. With bowed head the speaker dully turned and withdrewfrom our presence. As he went I distinctly heard him mutter:

  "Huh! Four-teen! Four-teen! And seven! And twenty-eight!"

  "Say, there!" his callous employer called after him. "Why don't you getBoogles to embroider that name of yours on the front of your shirt? He'dadore to do it. And you can still read, can't you, in the midst of youragonies?"

  There was no response to this taunt. The suffering one faded slowly downthe path to the bunk house and was lost in its blackness. A light shoneout and presently came sombre chords from a guitar, followed by thevoice of Sandy in gloomy song: "There's a broken heart for every lighton Broadway--"

  I was not a little pained to discover this unsuspected vein of crueltyin a woman I had long admired. And the woman merely became irrelevantwith her apothegm about foreigners. I ignored it.

  "What about that sufferer down there in the bunk house?" I demanded."Didn't you ever have toothache?"

  "No; neither did Sandy Sawtelle. He ain't a sufferer; he's just a liar."

  "Why?"

  "So I'll let him go to town and play the number of them stitches on thewheel. Sure! He'd run a horse to death getting there, make for the backroom of the Turf Club Saloon, where they run games whenever the townain't lidded too tight, and play roulette till either him or the gamehad to close down. Yes, sir; he'd string his bets along on fourteen andseven and twenty-eight and thirty-five, and if he didn't make a killinghe'd believe all his life that the wheel was crooked. Stitches in amule's hide is his bug. He could stitch up any horse on the place andnever have the least hunch; but let it be a mule--Say! Down there rightnow he's thinking about the thousand dollars or so I'm keeping him outof. I judge from his song that he'd figured on a trip East to New YorkCity or Denver. At that, I don't know as I blame him. Yes, sir; that'swhat reminded me of foreigners and bazaars and vice, and so on--and poorEgbert Floud."

  My hostess drew about her impressive shoulders a blanket of Indian weavethat dulled the splendours of the western sky, and rolled a slendercigarette from the tobacco and papers at her side. By the ensuing flameof a match I saw that her eyes gleamed with the light of pure narration.

  "Foreigners, bazaars, vice, and Egbert Floud?" I murmured, wishing theseto be related more plausibly one to another.

  "I'm coming to it," said the lady; and, after two sustaining inhalationsfrom the new cigarette, forthwith she did:

  * * * * *

  It was late last winter, while I was still in Red Gap. The talk wentround that we'd ought to have another something for the Belgians. We'dhad a concert, the proceeds of which run up into two figures after allexpenses was paid; but it was felt something more could bedone--something in the nature of a bazaar, where all could get together.The Mes-dames Henrietta Templeton Price and Judge Ballard were appointeda committee to do some advance scouting.

  That was where Egbert Floud come in, though after it was all over anyone could see that he was more to be pitied than censured. Thesewell-known leaders consulted him among others, and Cousin Egbert saysright off that, sure, he'll help 'em get up something if they'll agreeto spend a third of the loot for tobacco for the poor soldiers, becausea Belgian or any one else don't worry so much about going hungry if theycan have a smoke from time to time, and he's been reading about wheretobacco is sorely needed in the trenches. He felt strong about it,because one time out on the trail he lost all his own and had to smokepoplar bark or something for two weeks, nearly burning his flues out.

  The two Mes-dames agreed to this, knowing from their menfolk thattobacco is one of the great human needs, both in war and in peace, andknowing that Cousin Egbert will be sure to donate handsomely himself, healways having been the easiest mark in town; so they said they was muchobliged for his timely suggestion and would he think up some novelfeature for the bazaar; and he said he would if he could, and they wenton to other men of influence.

  Henrietta's husband, when he heard the money wouldn't all be spent formere food, said he'd put up a choice lot in Price's Addition to beraffled off--a lot that would at some future date be worth five thousanddollars of anybody's money, and that was all right; and some of themerchants come through liberal with articles of use and adornment to betook chances on.

  Even old Proctor Knapp, the richest man in town, actually give upsom
ething after they pestered him for an hour. He owns the People'sTraction Company and he turned over a dollar's worth of street-cartickets to be raffled for, though saying he regarded gambling as a veryobjectionable and uncertain vice, and a person shouldn't go intoanything without being sure they was dead certain to make something outof it, war or no war, he knowing all about it. Why wouldn't he, havingstarted life as a poor, ragged boy and working his way up to whereparties that know him is always very careful indeed when they do anybusiness with him?

  Some of the ladies they consulted was hostile about the tobacco end ofit. Mrs. Tracy Bangs said that no victim of the weed could keep up hismentality, and that she, for one, would rather see her Tracy lying inhis casket than smoking vile tobacco that would destroy his intellectand make him a loathsome object in the home. She said she knew perfectlywell that if the countries at war had picked their soldiers fromnon-smokers it would have been all over in just a few days--and didn'tthat show you that the tobacco demon was as bad as the rum demon?

  Mrs. Leonard Wales was not only bitter about tobacco but about any helpat all. She said our hard storms of that winter had been caused by thegeneral hatred in Europe which created evil waves of malignity; so let'em shoot each other till they got sense enough to dwell together inlove and amity--only we shouldn't prolong the war by sending 'em soupand cigarettes, and so on. Her idea seemed to be that if Red Gap wouldjust stand firm in the matter the war would die a natural death. Still,if a bazaar was really going to be held, she would consent to pose in atableau if they insisted on it, and mebbe she could thus inject into theevil atmosphere of Europe some of the peace and good will that sets theUnited States apart from other nations.

  Trust Cora Wales not to overlook a bet like that. She's a tall,sandy-haired party, with very extravagant contours, and the thing sheloves best on earth is to get under a pasteboard crown, with gilt starson it, and drape herself in the flag of her country, with one fat armbare, while Maine, New Hampshire, Vermont, Massachusetts, and the restis gathered about and looking up to her for protection. Mebbe she don'tlook so bad as the Goddess of Liberty on a float in the middle of one ofour wide streets when the Chamber of Commerce is giving a Greater RedGap pageant; but take her in a hall, where you set close up to theplatform, and she looks more like our boasted liberty has degeneratedinto license, or something like that. Anyway, the committee had topromise her she could do something in her flag and crown and talcumpowder, because they knew she'd knock the show if they didn't.

  This reminded 'em they had to have a program of entertainment; so theygot me on the committee with the other Mes-dames to think up things, mealways being an easy mark. I find out right off that we're a lot offoreigners and you got to be darned careful not to hurt anybody'sfeelings. Little Bertha Lehman's pa would let her be a state--Coloradoor Nebraska, or something--but he wouldn't let her sing unless it wouldbe a German song in the original; and Hobbs, the English baker, said hisTillie would have to sing "Britannia Rules the Waves," or nothing; andtwo or three others said what they would and wouldn't do, and it lookedlike Red Gap itself was going to be dug up into trenches. I had to getlittle Magnesia Waterman, daughter of the coons that work in the U.S.Grill, to do the main singing. She seemed to be about the only Americanchild soprano we had. She sings right well for a kid, mostly these sadsongs about heaven; but we picked out a good live one for her thatseemed to be neutral.

  It was delicate work, let me tell you, turning down folks that wanted tosing patriotic songs or recite war poetry that would be sure to startsomething, with Professor Gluckstein wishing to get up and tell how thecowardly British had left the crew of a German submarine to perish aftershooting it up when it was only trying to sink their cruiser by fairand lawful methods; and Henry Lehman wanting to read a piece from aGerman newspaper about how the United States was a nation of vilemoney-grubbers that would sell ammunition to the enemy just because theyhad the ships to take it away, and wouldn't sell a dollar's worth to theFatherland, showing we had been bought up by British gold--and so on.

  But I kept neutral. I even turned down an Englishman named Ruggles, thatkeeps the U.S. Grill and is well thought of, though he swore that all hewould do was to get off a few comical riddles, and such. He'd just got anew one that goes: "Why is an elephant like a corkscrew? Because there'sa 'b' in both." I didn't see it at first, till he explained with heartylaughter--because there's a "b" in both--the word "both." See? Of coursethere's no sense to it. He admitted there wasn't, but said it was ajolly wheeze just the same. I might have took a chance with him, but hewent on to say that he'd sent this wheeze to the brave lads in thetrenches, along with a lot of cigars and tobacco, and had got aboutfifty postcards from 'em saying it was the funniest thing they'd heardsince the war begun. And in a minute more he was explaining, with muchfeeling, just what low-down nation it was that started the war--it notbeing England, by any means--and I saw he wasn't to be trusted on hisfeet.

  So I smoothed him down till he promised to donate all the lemonade forAggie Tuttle, who was to be Rebekkah at the Well; and I smoothed HenryLehman till he said he'd let his folks come and buy chances on things,even if the country was getting overrun by foreigners, with an Italianbarber shop just opened in the same block with his sanitary shavingparlour; though--thank goodness--the Italian hadn't had much to do yetbut play on a mandolin. And I smoothed Professor Gluckstein down till heagreed to furnish the music for us and let the war take care of itself.

  The Prof's a good old scout when he ain't got his war bonnet on. He wasdarned near crying into his meerschaum pipe with a carved fat lady on itwhen I got through telling him about the poor soldiers in the wet andcold without a thing to smoke. He says: "You're right, madam; with JakeFrost in the trenches and no tobacco, all men should be brothers undertheir hides." And I got that printed in the _Recorder_ for a slogan, andother foreigners come into line; and things looked pretty good.

  Also, I got Doc Sulloway, who happened to be in town, to promise he'dcome and tell some funny anecdotes. He ain't a regular doctor--he justtook it up; a guy with long black curls and a big moustache and a bighat and diamond pin, that goes round selling Indian Snake Oil off awagon. Doc said he'd have his musician, Ed Bemis, come, too. He said Edwas known far and wide as the world's challenge cornetist. I says allright, if he'll play something neutral; and Doc says he'll play "Listento the Mocking Bird," with variations, and play it so swell you'llthink you're perched right up in the treetops listening to Nature's ownfeathered songsters.

  That about made up my show, including, of course, the Spanish dance byBeryl Mae Macomber. Red Gap always expects that and Beryl Mae neverdisappoints 'em--makes no difference what the occasion is. Mebbe it's anEvening with Shakespeare, or the Landing of the Pilgrim Fathers, or thatOratorio by Elijah somebody, but Beryl Mae is right there with hergirlish young beauty and her tambourine. You see, I didn't want it along show--just enough to make the two-bits admission seem a littleshort of robbery. Our real graft, of course, was to be where the youngsociety debutantes and heiresses in charge of the booths would wheedlemoney out of the dazed throng for chances on the junk that would bedonated.

  "ALL SUNNED UP LIKE A MAN THAT KNOWS THE WORLD IS HISOYSTER AND EVERY MONTH'S GOT AN 'R' IN IT"]

  Well, about three days before the show I went up to Masonic Hall to seeabout the stage decorations, and I was waiting while some one went downto the Turf Exchange to get the key off Tim Mahoney, the janitor--Timhad lately had to do janitor work for a B'nai B'rith lodge that washolding meetings there, and it had made him gloomy and dissolute--and,while I was waiting, who should come tripping along but Egbert Floud,all sunned up like a man that knows the world is his oyster and everymonth's got an "r" in it. Usually he's a kind of sad, meek coot, lookingneglected and put upon; but now he was actually giggling to himselfas he come up the stairs two at a time.

  "Well, Old-Timer, what has took the droop out of your face?" I ask him.

  "Why," he says, twinkling all over the place, "I'm aiming to keep it asecret, but I don't
mind hinting to an old friend that my part of theevening's entertainment is going to be so good it'll make the whole showtop-heavy. Them ladies said they'd rely on me to think up somethingnovel, and I said I would if I could, and I did--that's all. I'd seenenough of these shows where you ladies pike along with pincushions andfancy lemonade and infants' wear--and mebbe a red plush chair, with goldlegs, that plays 'Alice, Where Art Thou?' when a person sets down onit--with little girls speaking a few pieces about the flowers and lambs,and so on, and cleaning up about eleven-twenty-nine on the evening'srevel--or it would be that, only you find you forgot to pay the GoldenRule Cash Store for the red-and-blue bunting, and they're howling fortheir money like a wild-cat. Yes, sir; that's been the way of it withwoman at the helium. I wouldn't wish to be a Belgian at all underpresent circumstances; but if I did have to be one I'd hate to think myregular meals was depending on any crooked work you ladies has done upto date."

  "You'd cheer me strangely," I says, "only I been a diligent reader ofhistory, and somehow I can't just recall your name being connected upwith any cataclysms of finance. I don't remember you ever starting oneof these here panics--or stopping one, for that matter. I did hear thatyou'd had your pocket picked down to the San Francisco Fair."

  I was prodding him along, understand, so he'd flare up and tell me whathis secret enterprise was that would make women's operations look sillyand feminine. I seen his eyes kind of glisten when I said this about himbeing touched.

  "That's right," he says. "Some lad nicked me for my roll and my returnticket, and my gold watch and chain, and my horseshoe scarfpin with thediamonds in it."

  "You stood a lot of pawing over," I says, "for a man that's the keenfinancial genius you tell about being. This lad must of been a new handat it. Likely he'd took lessons from a correspondence school. At least,with you standing tied and blinded that way, a good professional onewould have tried for your gold tooth--or, anyway, your collar button. Isee your secret though," I go on as sarcastically as possible: "You gotthe lad's address and you're going to have him here Saturday night toglide among the throng and ply his evil trade. Am I right or wrong?"

  "You are not," he says. "I never thought of that. But I won't say youain't warm in your guess. Yes, you certainly are warm, because what I'mgoing to do is just as dastardly, without being so darned illegal,except to an extent."

  Well, it was very exasperating, but that was all I could get out ofhim. When I ask for details he just clams up.

  "But, mark my words," says the old smarty, "I'll show you it takesbrains in addition to woman's wiles and artwork to make a decentclean-up in this little one-cylinder town."

  "If you just had a little more self-confidence," I says, "you might ofgone to the top; lack of faith in yourself is all that's kept you back.Too bad!"

  "All right for you to kid me," he says; "but I'd be almost willing togive you two dollars for every dollar that goes out of this hallSaturday night."

  Well, it was kind of pathetic and disgusting the way this poor old dubwas leaning on his certainty; so I let him alone and went on about mywork, thinking mebbe he really had framed up something crooked thatwould bring at least a few dollars to the cause.

  Every time I met him for the next three days after that he'd be sopuffed up, like a toad, with importance and low remarks about womanthat, at last, I just ignored him, pretending I hadn't the leastcuriosity about his evil secret. It hurt his feelings when I quitpestering him about it, but he'd been outraging mine right along; so wesplit even.

  He'd had a good-sized room just down the hall turned over to him, and alot of stuff of some kind carried in there in the night, and menworking, with the door locked all the time; so I and the other ladieswent calmly on about our own business, decorating the main hall withthe flags of all nations, fixing up the platform and the booths verypretty, and giving Mr. Smarty Egbert Floud nothing but haughty glancesabout his hidden novelty. Even when his men was hammering away in thereat their work he'd have something hung over the keyhole--as insulting tous as only a man can be.

  Saturday night come and we had a good crowd. Cousin Egbert was after methe minute I got my things off to come and see his dastardly secret; butI had my revenge. I told him I had no curiosity about it and was goingto be awful busy with my show, but I'd try as a personal favour to givehim a look over before I went home. Yes, sir; I just turned him downwith one superior look, and got my curtains slid back on Mrs. LeonardWales, dressed up like a superdreadnought in a naval parade andsurrounded by every little girl in town that had a white dress. Theywasn't states this time, but Columbia's Choicest Heritage, with a secondline on the program saying, "Future Buds and Debutantes From Society'sHome Galleries." It was a line we found under some babies' photos on thesociety page of a great newspaper printed in New York City. ProfessorGluckstein and his son Rudolph played the "Star-Spangled Banner" on thepiano and fiddle during this feature.

  Then little Magnesia Waterman, dressed to represent the Queen of Sheba,come forward and sung the song we'd picked out for her, with the peoplejoining in the chorus:

  We're for you, Woodrow Wilson, One Hundred Million Strong! We put you in the White House And we know you can't do wrong.

  It was very successful, barring hisses from all the Germans and Englishpresent; but they was soon hushed up. Then Doc Sulloway come out andtold some funny anecdotes about two Irishmen named Pat and Mike, latelylanded in this country and looking for work, and imitated two cats in abackyard, and drawing a glass of soda water, and sawing a plank in two;and winding up with the announcement that he had donated a dozen bottlesof the great Indian Snake Oil Remedy for man and beast that had beenimparted to him in secret by old Rumpatunk, the celebrated medicine man,who is supposed to have had it from the Great Spirit; and Ed Bemis, theWorld's Challenge Cornetist, entertained one and all; and Beryl Mae doneher Spanish dance that I'd last seen her give at the Queen EstherCantata in the M.E. Church. And that was the end of the show; justenough to start 'em buying things at the booths.

  At least, we thought it would be. But what does a lot of the crowd do,after looking round a little, but drift out into the hall and down tothis room where Cousin Egbert had his foul enterprise, whatever it was.I didn't know yet, having held aloof, as you might say, owing to the oldhound's offensive manner. But I had heard three or four parties kind ofgasping to each other, had they seen what that Egbert Floud was doing inthe other room?--with looks of horror and delight on their faces. Thatmade me feel more superior than ever to the old smarty; so I didn't gonear the place yet, but herded people back to the raffles wherever Icould.

  The first thing was Lon Price's corner lot, for which a hundred chanceshad been sold. Lon had a blueprint showing the very lot; also a pictureof a choice dwelling or bungalow, like the one he has painted on thedrop curtain of Knapp's Opera House, under the line, "Price's Additionto Red Gap; Big Lots, Little Payments." It's a very fancy house withporches and bay windows and towers and front steps, and everything,painted blue and green and yellow; and a blond lady in a purple gown,with two golden-haired tots at her side, is waving good-bye to a tall,handsome man with brown whiskers as he hurries out to the waiting streetcar--though the car line ain't built out there yet by any means.

  However, Lon got up and said it was a Paradise on earth, a Heaven ofHomes; that in future he would sell lots there to any native Belgian ata 20 per cent. discount; and he hoped the lucky winner of this lot wouldat once erect a handsome and commodious mansion on it, such as theartist had here depicted; and it would be only nine blocks from theswell little Carnegie Library when that, also, had been built, theplans for it now being in his office safe.

  Quite a few of the crowd had stayed for this, and they cheered Lon andvoted that little Magnesia Waterman was honest enough to draw thenumbers out of a hat. They was then drawn and read by Lon in an excitingsilence--except for Mrs. Leonard Wales, who was breathing heavily andtalking to herself after each number. She and Leonard had took a chancefor a dollar and everybody there knew it by
now. She was dead sure theywould get the lot. She kept telling people so, right and left. She saidthey was bound to get it if the drawing was honest. As near as I couldmake out, she'd been taking a course of lessons from a professor inChicago about how to control your destiny by the psychic force thatdwells within you. It seems all you got to do is to will things to comeyour way and they have to come. No way out of it. You step on this herepsychic gas and get what you ask for.

  "I already see our little home," says Mrs. Wales in a hoarse whisper. "Isee it objectively. It is mine. I claim it out of the boundlessall-good. I have put myself in the correct mental attitude of reception;I am holding to the perfect All. My own will come to me."

  And so on, till parties round her begun to get nervous. Yes, sir; shekept this stuff going in low, tense tones till she had every one inhearing buffaloed; they was ready to give her the lot right there andtear up their own tickets. She was like a crapshooter when he keepscalling to the dice: "Come, seven--come on, come on!" All right for thepsychics, but that's what she reminded me of.

  And in just another minute everybody there thought she'd cheated bytaking these here lessons that she got from Chicago for twelve dollars;for you can believe it or not but her number won the lot. Yes, sir;thirty-three took the deed and Lon filled in her name on it right there.Many a cold look was shot at her as she rushed over to embrace herhusband, a big lump of a man that's all right as far up as his Adam'sapple, and has been clerking in the Owl Cigar Store ever since he canremember. He tells her she is certainly a wonder and she calls him asilly boy; says it's just a power she has developed throughconcentration, and now she must claim from the all-good a dear littlehome of seven rooms and bath, to be built on this lot; and she knows itwill come if she goes into the silence and demands it. Say! People withany valuables on 'em begun to edge off, not knowing just how thisstrange power of hers might work.

  Then I look round and see the other booths ain't creating near theexcitement they had ought to be, only a few here and there takingtwo-bit chances on things if Mrs. Wales ain't going in on 'em, too;several of the most attractive booths was plumb deserted, with the girlsin charge looking mad or chagrined, as you might say. So I remember thishidden evil of Egbert Floud's and that the crowd has gone there; andwhile I'm deciding to give in and gratify my morbid curiosity, herecomes Cousin Egbert himself, romping along in his dinner-jacket suit andtan shoes, like a wild mustang.

  "What was I telling you?" he demands. "Didn't I tell you the rest ofthis show was going to die standing up? Yes, sir; she's going to passout on her feet." And he waved a sneering arm round at the desertedbooths. "What does parties want of this truck when they can come down tomy joint and get real entertainment for their money? Why, they'rebreaking their ankles now to get in there!"

  It sure looked like he was right for once in his life; so I says:

  "What is it you've done?"

  "Simple enough," says he, "to a thinking man. It comes to me like aflash or inspiration, or something, from being down to that fair in SanFrancisco, California. Yes, sir; they had a deadfall there, with everykind of vice rampant that has ever been legalized any place, and severalkinds that ain't ever been; they done everything, from strong-arm workto short changing, and they was getting by with it by reason of callingit Ye Olde Tyme Mining Camp of '49, or something poetical like that.That was where I got nicked for my roll, in addition to about fifty Ilost at a crooked wheel. I think the workers was mostly ex-convicts, andnot so darned ex- at that. Anyway, their stuff got too raw even for themanagers of an exposition, so they had to close down in spite of theirname. That's where I get my idee when these ladies said think upsomething novel and pleasing. Just come and see how I'm taking it off of'em." And, with that, he grabs me by the arm and rushes me down to thisjoint of his.

  At the side of the doorway he had two signs stuck up. One says, Ye OldeTyme Saloone; and the other says, Ye Olde Tyme Gambling Denne. You couldof pushed me over with one finger when I looked in. He'd drew the crowd,all right. I knew then that Aggie Tuttle might just as well close downher Rebekkah-at-the-Well dive, and that no one was going to take anymore chances on pincushions and tidies and knitted bed slippers.

  About a third of the crowd was edged up to the bar and keeping LouisMeyer and his father busy with drink orders, and the other two-thirdswas huddled round a roulette layout across the room. They was wedged inso tight I couldn't see the table, but I could hear the little ballclick when it slowed up, and the rattle of chips, and squeals from themthat won, and hoarse mutters from the losers.

  Cousin Egbert rubbed his hands and giggled, waiting for me to bedeck himwith floral tributes.

  "I suppose you got a crooked wheel," I says.

  "Shucks, no!" says he. "I did think of it, but I'd of had to send out oftown for one and they're a lot of trouble to put in, what with theelectric wiring and all; and besides, the straightest roulette wheelever made is crooked enough for any man of decent instincts. I don'tbegrudge 'em a little excitement for their money. I got these old barfixings out of the Spilmer place that was being tore down, and we'recharging two bits a drink for whatever, and that'll be a help; and itlooks to me like you ladies would of thought you needed a man's brain inthese shows long before this. Come on in and have a shot. I'll buy."

  So we squeezed in and had one. It was an old-time saloon, allright--that is, fairly old; about 1889, with a brass foot rail, and backof the bar a stuffed eagle and a cash register. A gang of ladies wastaking claret lemonades and saying how delightfully Bohemian it all was;and Miss Metta Bigler, that gives lessons in oil painting and burntwood, said it brought back very forcibly to her the Latin Quarter ofChicago, where she finished her art course. Henrietta Templeton Price,with one foot on the railing, was shaking dice with three otherprominent society matrons for the next round, and saying she had alwaysbeen a Bohemian at heart, only you couldn't go very far in a small townlike this without causing unfavourable comment among a certain element.

  It was a merry scene, with the cash register playing like the SwissFamily Bellringers. Even the new Episcopalian minister come along, withold Proctor Knapp, and read the signs and said they was undeniablyquaint, and took a slug of rye and said it was undeniably delightful;though old Proctor roared like a maddened bull when he found what theprice was. I guess you can be an Episcopalian one without itsinterfering much with man's natural habits and innocent recreations.Then he went over and lost a two-bit piece on the double-o, and laughedheartily over the occurrence, saying it was undeniably piquant with oldProctor plunging ten cents on the red and losing it quick, and saying afool and his money was soon parted--yes, and I wish I had as much moneyas that old crook ain't foolish; but no matter.

  Beryl Mae Macomber was aiding the Belgians by running out in the bigroom to drum up the stragglers. She was now being Little Nugget, theMiners' Pet; and when she wasn't chasing in easy money she'd loll at oneend of the bar with a leer on her flowerlike features to entice honestworkingmen in to lose their all at the gaming tables. There waschuck-a-luck and a crap game going, and going every minute, too, withCousin Egbert trying to start three-card monte at another table--onlythey all seemed wise to that. Even the little innocent children give himthe laugh.

  I went over to the roulette table and lost a few dollars, not being ableto stick long, because other women would keep goring me with theirelbows. Yes, sir; that layout was ringed with women four deep. All thatthe men could do was stand on the outside and pass over their loosesilver to the fair ones. Sure! Women are the only real natural-borngamblers in the world. Take a man that seems to be one and it's onlybecause he's got a big streak of woman in him, even if it don't show anyother way. Men, of course, will gamble for the fun of it; but it ain'tever funny to a woman, not even when she wins. It brings out the naturalwolf in her like nothing else does. It was being proved this night allyou'd want to see anything proved. If the men got near enough and won abet they'd think it was a good joke and stick round till they lost it.Not so my own sex. Every last one of 'em saw he
rself growing rich onCousin Egbert's money--and let the Belgians look out for themselves.

  Mrs. Tracy Bangs, for instance, fought her way out of the mob, lookingas wild as any person in a crazy house, choking twenty-eight dollars todeath in her two fists that she win off two bits. She crowds this ontoTracy and makes him swear by the sacred memory of his mother that hewill positively not give her back a cent of it to gamble with if thefever comes on her again--not even if she begs him to on her bendedknees. And fifteen minutes later the poor little shark nearly hashysterics because Tracy won't give her back just five of it to gambleagain with. Sure! A very feminine woman she is.

  Tracy is a pretty good little sport himself. He says, No, and that'll beall, please, not only on account of the sacred memory of his mother butbecause the poor Belgians has got to catch it going if they don't catchit coming; and he's beat it out to a booth and bought thetwenty-five-dollar gold clock with chimes, with the other three dollarsgoing for the dozen bottles of Snake Oil and the twenty street-cartickets.

  And now let there be no further words about it, but there was when shehears this horrible disclosure--lots of words, and the brute won't evengive her the street-car tickets, which she could play in for a dollar,and she has to go to the retiring room to bathe her temples, and treatsTracy all the rest of the evening like a crippled stepchild, thinking ofall she could of won if he hadn't acted like a snake in the grass towardher!

  Right after this Mrs. Leonard Wales, in her flag and powder, begun tostick up out of the scene, though not risking any money as yet. She'djust stand there like one petrified while cash was being paid in andout, keeping away about three women of regular size that would like toget their silver down. I caught the gleam in her eye, and the way shedrawed in her breath when the lucky number was called out, kind ofshrinking her upper lip every time in a bloodthirsty manner. Yes, sir;in the presence of actual money that dame reminded me of the greatsaber-toothed tiger that you see terrible pictures of in the animalbooks.

  Pretty soon she mowed down a lot of her sister gamblers and got out towhere Leonard was standing, to tell him all about how she'd have won alot of money if she'd only put some chips down at the right time, theway she would of done if she'd had any; and Leonard said what a shame!And they drifted into a corner, talking low. I bet she was asking him ifshe couldn't make a claim to these here bets she'd won in her mind, andif this wasn't the magic time to get the little home or bungalow on thenew lot she'd won by finding out from the Chicago professor how to mouldher destiny.

  Then I lose track of the two for a minute, because Judge Ballard comesin escorting his sister from South Carolina, that's visiting them, andinvites every one to take something in her honour. She was a fraillittle old lady, very old-fashioned indeed, with white hair built up ina waterfall and curls over both ears, and a flowered silk dress that Ibet was made in Civil War times, and black lace mitts. Say! She lookedlike one of the ladies that would of been setting in the front of a boxat Ford's Theatre the night President Lincoln was shot up!

  She seemed a mite rattled when she found herself in a common barroom,having failed to read Cousin Egbert's undeniably quaint signs; but theJudge introduced her to some that hadn't met her yet, and when he askedher what her refreshment would be she said in a very brazen way that shewould take a drop of anisette cordial. Louis Meyer says they ain'tkeeping that, and she says, Oh, dear! she's too old-fashioned! So CousinEgbert says, why, then she should take an old-fashioned cocktail, whichshe does and sips it with no sign of relish. Then she says she willhelp the cause by wagering a coin on yonder game of chance.

  The Judge paws out a place for her and I go along to watch. She priesopen a bead reticule that my mother had one like and gets out a knittedsilk purse, and takes a five-dollar gold piece into her little bonywhite fingers and drops it on a number, and says: "Now that is wellover!" But it wasn't over. There was excitement right off, because,outside of some silver dollars I'd lost myself, I hadn't seen anythingbigger than a two-bit piece played there that night. Right over myshoulder I heard heavy breathing and I didn't have to turn round to knowit was Cora Wales. When the ball slowed up she quit breathing entirelytill it settled.

  It must of been a horrible strain on her, for the man was raking in allthe little bets and leaving the five-dollar one that win. Say! Thatwoman gripped an arm of mine till I thought it was caught in machineryof some kind! And Mrs. Doc Martingale, that she gripped on the otherside, let out a yell of agony. But that wasn't the worst of Cora Wales'torture. No, sir! She had to stand there and watch this littleold-fashioned sport from South Carolina refuse the money!

  "But I can't accept it from you good people," says she in her thinlittle voice. "I intended to help the cause of those poor sufferers, andto profit by the mere inadvertence of your toy there would beunspeakable--really no!"

  And she pushed back the five and the hundred and seventy-five that thedealer had counted out for her, dusted her little fingers with a littlelace handkerchief smelling of lavender, and asked the Judge to show hera game that wasn't so noisy.

  I guess Cora Wales was lost from that moment. She had Len over in acorner again, telling him how easy it was to win, and how this poordemented creature had left all hers there because Judge Ballard probablydidn't want to create a scene by making her take it; and mustn't theyhave a lot of trouble looking after the weak-minded thing all the time!And I could hear her say if one person could do it another could,especially if they had learned how to get in tune with the Infinite. Lensays all right, how much does she want to risk? And that scares herplumb stiff again, in spite of her uncanny powers. She says it wouldn'tbe right to risk one cent unless she could be sure the number was goingto win.

  Of course if you made your claim on the Universal, your own was bound tocome to you; still, you couldn't be so sure as you ought to be with aroulette wheel, because several times the ball had gone into numbersthat she wasn't holding for with her psychic grip, and the uncertaintywas killing her; and why didn't he say something to help her, instead ofstanding there silent and letting their little home slip from her grasp?

  Cousin Egbert comes up just then, still happy and puffed up; so I puthim wise to this Wales conspiracy against his game.

  "Mebbe you can win back that lot from her," I says, "and raffle it overagain for the fund. She's getting worked up to where she'll take achance."

  "Good work!" says he. "I'll approach her in the matter."

  So over he goes and tries to interest her in the dice games; but no, shethinks dice is low and a mere coloured person's game. So then he says toset down to the card table and play this here Canfield solitaire; she'sto be paid five dollars for every card she gets up and a whole thousandif she gets 'em all up. That listens good to her till she finds she hasto give fifty-two dollars for the deck first. She says she knew theremust be some catch about it. Still, she tries out a couple of deals justto see what would happen, and on the first she would have won thirteendollars and on the second eight dollars. She figures then that by allmoral rights Cousin Egbert owes her twenty-one dollars, and at leasteight dollars to a certainty, because she was really playing for moneythe second time and merely forgot to mention it to him.

  And while they sort of squabble about this, with Cousin Egbert verypig-headed or adamant, who should come in but this Sandy Sawtelle,that's now sobbing out his heart in song down there; and with him isBuck Devine. It seems they been looking for a game, and they givesqueals of joy when they see this one. In just two minutes Sandy iscollecting thirty-five dollars for one that he had carefully placed onNo. 11. He gives a glad shout at this, and Leonard Wales and lady moveover to see what it's all about. Sandy is neatly stacking his red chipsand plays No. 11 once more, but No. 22 comes up.

  "Gee!" says Sandy. "I forgot. Twenty-two, of course, and likewisethirty-three."

  So he now puts dollar bets on all three numbers, and after a couple moreturns he's collecting on 33, and the next time 22 comes again. He don'thardly have time to stack his chips, they come so fast; and
then it'sNo. 11 once more, amid rising excitement from all present. Cora Wales ispanting like the Dying Gamekeeper I once saw in the Eden Musee in NewYork City. Sandy quits now for a moment.

  "Let every man, woman, and child, come one, come all, across the roomand crook the convivial elbow on my ill-gotten gains!" he calls out.

  So everybody orders something; Tim Mahoney going in behind the bar tohelp out. Even Cora Wales come over when she understood no expense wasattached to so doing, though taking a plain lemonade, because she saidalcohol would get one's vibrations all fussed up, or something likethat.

  Cousin Egbert was still chipper after this reverse, though it had sweptaway about all he was to the good up to that time.

  "Three rousing cheers!" says he. "And remember the little ball stillrolls for any sport that thinks he can Dutch up the game!"

  While this drink is going on amid the general glad feeling that alwaysprevails when some spendthrift has ordered for the house, Leonard Walesgets Buck Devine to one side and says how did Sandy do it? So Buck tellshim and Cora that Sandy took eleven stitches in Jerry's hide yesterdayafternoon and he was playing this hunch, which he had reason to feel wasa first-class one.

  "If I could only feel it was a cosmic certainty--" says Cora.

  "Oh, she's cosmic, all right!" says Buck. "I never seen anythingcosmicker. Look what she's done already, and Sandy only begun! Justwatch him! He'll cosmic this here game to a standstill. He'll have SourDough there touching him for two-bits breakfast money--see if he don't."

  "But eleven came only twice," says the conservative Cora.

  "Sure! But did you notice Nos. 22 and 33?" says Buck. "You got to humourany good hunch to a certain extent, cosmic or no cosmic."

  "I see," says Cora with gleaming eyes; "and No. 33 is not only what drewour beautiful building lot but it is also the precise number of my yearson the earth plane."

  Cousin Egbert overheard this and snorted like no gentleman had ought to,even in the lowest gambling den.

  "Thirty-three!" says he to me. "Did you hear the big cheat? Say! Nogambling house on earth would have the nerve to put her right age on awheel! The chances is ruinous enough now without running 'em up toforty-eight or so. I bet that's about what you'd find if you was totooth her."

  Sandy has now gone back, followed by the crowd, and wins another bet onNo. 11. This is too much for Cora's Standard Oil instincts. She nevertrusts Leonard with any money, but she goes over into a corner, hikesthe flag of her country up over one red stocking for a minute, and comesback with a two-dollar bill, which she splits on 22 and 33; and when 33wins she's mad clean through because 22 didn't also win, and she'swasted a whole dollar, like throwing it into the Atlantic Ocean.

  "Too bad, Pettie!" says Leonard, who was crowded in by her. "But youmustn't expect to have all the luck"--which is about the height ofLeonard's mental reach.

  "It was not luck; it was simple lack of faith," says Cora. "I put myselfin tune with the Infinite and make my claim upon the all-good--and thenI waver. The loss of that dollar was a punishment to me."

  Now she stakes a dollar on No. 33 alone, and when it comes double-o shecries out that the man had leaned his hand on the edge of the tablewhile the ball was rolling and thereby mushed up her cosmic vibrations,even if he didn't do something a good deal more crooked. Then sheswitches to No. 22, and that wins.

  She now gets suspicious of the chips and has 'em turned into realmoney, which she stuffs into her consort's pockets for the time being,all but two dollars that go on Nos. 11 and 33. And No. 22 comes upagain. She nearly fainted and didn't recover in time to get anythingdown for the next roll--and I'm darned if 11 don't show! She turnssavagely on her husband at this. The poor hulk only says:

  "But, Pettie, you're playing the game--I ain't."

  She replies bitterly:

  "Oh, ain't that just like a man! I knew you were going to saythat!"--and seemed to think she had him well licked.

  Then the single-o come. She says:

  "Oh, dear! It seems that, even with the higher consciousness, one can'tbe always certain of one's numbers at this dreadful game."

  And while she was further reproaching her husband, taking time to do itgood and keeping one very damp dollar safe in her hand, what comes upbut old 33 again!

  It looked like hysterics then, especially when she noticed Buck Devinehelping pile Sandy's chips up in front of him till they looked like agreat old English castle, with towers and minarets, and so on, Sandyhaving played his hunch strong and steady. She waited for another turnthat come nothing important to any of 'em; then she drew Leonard out andmade him take her for a glass of lemonade out where Aggie Tuttle wasbeing Rebekkah at the Well, because they charged two bits for it at thebar and Aggie's was only a dime. The sale made forty cents Aggie hadtook in on the evening.

  Racing back to Ye Olde Tyme Gambling Denne, she gets another hard blow;for Sandy has not only win another of his magic numbers but has boughtup the bar for the evening, inviting all hands to brim a cup at hisexpense, whenever they crave it--nobody's money good but his; so Cora isnot only out what she would of made by following his play but the tencents cash she has paid Aggie Tuttle. She was not a woman to be trifledwith then. She took another lemonade because it was free, and made Lentake one that he didn't want. Then she draws three dollars from him andcovers the three numbers with reckless and noble sweeps of her powerfularms. The game was on again.

  Cousin Egbert by now was looking slightly disturbed, or _outre_, as theFrench put it, but tries to conceal same under an air of sparklinggayety, laughing freely at every little thing in a girlish or painfulmanner.

  "Yes," says he coquettishly; "that Sandy scoundrel is taking it fast outof one pocket, but he's putting it right back into the other. Thewheel's loss is the bar's gain."

  I looked over to size Sandy's chips and I could see four or five markersthat go a hundred apiece.

  "I admire your roguish manner that don't fool any one," I says; "but ifwe was to drink the half of Sandy's winnings, even at your robberprices, we'd all be submerged to the periscope. It looks to me," I goeson, "like the bazaar-robbing genius is not exclusively a male attributeor tendency."

  "How many of them knitted crawdabs you sold out there at your booths?"he demands. "Not enough to buy a single Belgian a T-bone steak and friedpotatoes."

  "Is that so, indeed?" I says. "Excuse me a minute. Standing here in theblinding light of your triumph, I forgot a little matter of detail suchas our sex is always wasting its energies on."

  So I call Sandy and Buck away from their Belgian atrocities and speaksharply to 'em.

  "You boys ought to be ashamed of yourselves," I says--"winning all thatmoney and then acting like old Gaspard the Miser in the Chimes ofNormandy! Can't you forget your natural avarice and loosen up some?"

  "I bought the bar, didn't I?" asks Sandy. "I can't do no more, can I?"

  "You can," I says. "Out in that big room is about eighteen tired maidsand matrons of Red Gap's most exclusive inner circles yawning theirheads off over goods, wares, and merchandise that no one will look atwhile this sinful game is running. If you got a spark of manhood in yougo on out and trade a little with 'em, just to take the curse off yourdepredations in here."

  "Why, sure!" says Sandy. He goes back to the layout and loads Buck'shat full of red and blue chips at one and two dollars each. "Go buy theplace clean," he says to Buck. "Do it good; don't leave a single objectof use or luxury. My instructions is sweeping, understand. And ifthere's a harness booth there you order a solid gold collar for oldJerry, heavily incrusted with jewels and his initials and minesurrounded by a wreath. Also, send out a pint of wine for every one ofthese here maids and matrons. Meantime, I shall stick here and keep aneye on my large financial interests."

  So Buck romps off on his joyous mission, singing a little ballad thatgoes: "To hell with the man that works!" And Sandy moves quickly back tothe wheel.

  I followed and found Cora barely surviving because she's lost nine ofher three-dollar bets wh
ile Sandy was away, leaving her only about ahundred winner. Len was telling her to "be brave, Pettie!" and she wassaying it was entirely his fault that they hadn't already got their neatlittle home; but she would have it before she left the place or know thereason why.

  It just did seem as if them three numbers had been resting while Sandywas away talking to me. They begin to show up again the minute heresumed his bets, and Cora was crowding onto the same with a risingtemperature. Yes, sir, it seemed downright uncanny or miraculous the wayone or the other of 'em showed up, with Sandy saying it was a shame totake the money, and Cora saying it was a shame she had to bet on allthree numbers and get paid only on one.

  Of course others was also crowding these numbers, though not so many asyou'd think, because every one said the run must be at an end, andthey'd be a fool to play 'em any farther; and them that did play 'em wasmostly making ten-cent bets to be on the safe side. Only Sandy and Corakept right on showing up one Egbert Floud as a party that had much tolearn about pulling off a good bazaar.

  It's a sad tale. Cousin Egbert had to send out twice for more cash, CoraWales refusing to take his check on the Farmers and Merchants Nationalfor hers. She said she was afraid there would be some catch about it. Imet Egbert out in the hall after the second time she'd made him send andhe'd lost much of his sparkle.

  "I never thought it was right to strike a lady without cause," he saysbitterly; "but I'd certainly hate to trust myself with that frail out insome lonely spot, like Price's Addition, where her screams couldn't beheard."

  "That's right," I says; "take it out on the poor woman that's trying towin a nice bungalow with big sawed corners sticking out all over it,when that cut-throat Sandy Sawtelle has win about twice as much! Thatain't the light of pure reason I had the right to expect from the BazaarKing of Red Gap."

  "That's neither here nor there," says he with petulance. "Sandy wouldof been just as happy if he'd lost the whole eighteen dollars him andBuck come in here with."

  "Well," I warns him, "it looks to me like you'd have to apply them otherdrastic methods you met with in this deadfall at the San FranciscoFair--strong-arm work or medicine in the drinks of the winners, orsomething like that--if you want to keep a mortgage off the old home. Ofcourse I won't crowd you for that two dollars you promised me for everyone that goes out of the hall. You can have any reasonable time you wantto pay that," I says.

  "That's neither here nor there," he says. "Luck's got to turn. The wheelain't ever been made that could stand that strain much longer."

  And here Luella Stultz comes up and says Mrs. Wales wants to know howmuch she could bet all at once if she happened to want to. I could justsee Cora having a sharp pain in the heart like a knife thrust when shethought what she would of win by betting ten dollars instead of one.Cousin Egbert answers Luella quite viciously.

  "Tell that dame the ceiling sets the limit now," says he; "but if thatain't lofty enough I'll have a skylight sawed into it for her."

  Then he goes over to watch, himself, being all ruined up by theseplungers. Leonard was saying: "Now don't be rash, Pettie!" And Pettiewas telling him it was his negative mind that had kept her from bettingfive dollars every clip, and look what that would mean to their pile!

  Cousin Egbert give 'em one look and says, right out loud, Leonard Walesis the biggest ham that was ever smoked, and he'd like to meet him, manto man, outside; then he goes off muttering that he can be pushed sofar, but in the excitement of the play no one pays the least attentionto him. A little later I see him all alone out in the hall again. He wasscrunched painfully up in a chair till he looked just like this hereFrench metal statue called _Lee Penser_, which in our language means"The Thinker." I let him think, not having the heart to prong him againso quick.

  And the game goes merrily on, with Sandy collecting steadily on hishunch and Cora Wales telling her husband the truth about himself everytime one of these three numbers didn't win; she exposed some verydistressing facts about his nature the time she put five apiece on thethree numbers and the single-o come up. It was a mad life, that lasthour, with a lot of other enraged ladies round the layout, some beingmad because they hadn't had money to play the hunch with, and othersbecause they hadn't had the nerve.

  Then somebody found it was near midnight and the crowd begun to fallaway. Cousin Egbert strolls by and says don't quit on his account--thatthey can stick there and play their hunch till the bad place freezesover, for all he cares; and he goes over to the bar and takes a drinkall by himself, which in him is a sign of great mental disturbance.

  Then, for about twenty minutes, I was chatting with the Mes-damesBallard and Price about what a grand success our part had been, owing toSandy acting the fool with Cousin Egbert's money, which the latter ain'twise to yet. When I next notice the game a halt has been called by CoraWales. It seems the hunch has quit working. Neither of 'em has won a betfor twenty minutes and Cora is calling the game crooked.

  "It looks very, very queer," says she, "that our numbers should sosuddenly stop winning; very queer and suspicious indeed!" And she glaredat Cousin Egbert with rage and distrust splitting fifty-fifty in herfevered eyes.

  Cousin Egbert replied quickly, but he kind of sputtered and so couldn'thave been arrested for it.

  "Oh, I've no doubt you can explain it very glibly," says Cora; "but itseems very queer indeed to Leonard and I, especially coming at thispeculiar time, when our little home is almost within my grasp."

  Cousin Egbert just walked off, though opening and shutting his hands ina nervous way, like, in fancy free, he had her out on her own lot inPrice's Addition and was there abusing her fatally.

  "Very well!" says Cora with great majesty. "He may evade giving me asatisfactory explanation of this extraordinary change, but I shallcertainly not remain in this place and permit myself to be fleeced.Here, darling!"

  And she stuffs some loose silver into darling's last pocket that willhold any more. He was already wadded with bills and sagging with coin,till it didn't look like the same suit of clothes. Then she stood therewith a cynical smile and watched Sandy still playing his hunch, tendollars to a number, and never winning a bet.

  "You poor dupe!" says she when Sandy himself finally got tired and quit."It's especially awkward," she adds, "because while we have saved enoughto start our little nook, it will have to be far less pretentious than Iwas planning to make it while the game seemed to be played honestly."

  Cousin Egbert gets this and says, as polite as a stinging lizard, thathe stands ready to give her a chance at any game she can think of, frommumblety-peg up. He says if she'll turn him and Leonard loose in acellar that he'll give her fifty dollars for every one she's winner ifhe don't have Len screaming for help inside of one minute--or make itfifteen seconds. Len, who's about the size of a freight car, smiles kindof sickish at this, and says he hopes there's no hard feelings among oldfriends and lodge brothers; and Egbert says, Oh, no! It would just be inthe nature of a friendly contest, which he feels very much like havingone, since he can be pushed just so far; but Cora says gambling hasbrutalized him.

  Then she sees the cards on the table and asks again about this gamewhere you play cards with yourself and mebbe win a thousand dollarscold. She wants to know if you actually get the thousand in cash, andEgbert says:

  "Sure! A thousand that any bank in town would accept at par."

  She picks up the deck and almost falls, but thinks better of it.

  "Could I play with my own cards?" she wants to know, looking suspiciousat these. Egbert says she sure can. "And in my own home?" asks Cora.

  "Your own house or any place else," says Egbert, "and any hour of theday or night. Just call me up when you feel lucky."

  "We could embellish our little nook with many needful things," saysCora. "A thousand dollars spent sensibly would do marvels." But afterfiddling a bit more with the cards she laid 'em down with a pitifulsigh.

  Cousin Egbert just looked at her, then looked away quick, as if hecouldn't stand it any more, and says: "War is cer
tainly what that manSherman said it was."

  Then he watches Sandy Sawtelle cashing in his chips and is kind offiguring up his total losses; so I can't resist handing him another.

  "I don't know what us Mes-dames would of done without your master mind,"I says; "and yet I'd hate to be a Belgian with the tobacco habit andhave to depend on you to gratify it."

  "Well," he answers, very mad, "I don't see so many of 'em gettingtobacco heart with the proceeds of your fancy truck out in them boothseither!"

  "Don't you indeed?" I says, and just at the right moment, too. "Then youbetter take another look or get your eyes fixed or something."

  For just then Sandy stands up on a chair and says:

  "Ladies and gents, a big pile of valuable presents is piled just at theright of the main entrance as you go out, and I hope you will one andall accept same with the welcome compliments of me and old Jerry, that Ihad to take eleven stitches in the hide of. As you will pass out in anorderly manner, let every lady help herself to two objects that attracther, and every gent help himself to one object; and no crowding orpulling I trust, because some of the objects would break, like themoustache cup and saucer, or the drainpipe, with painted posies on it,to hold your umbrels. Remember my words--every lady two objects andevery gent one only. There is also a new washboiler full of lemonadethat you can partake of at will, though I guess you won't want any--andthanking you one and all!"

  So they cheer Sandy like mad and beat it out to get first grab at theplunder; and just as Cousin Egbert thinks he now knows the worst, incomes the girls that had the booths, bringing all the chips Buck Devinehad paid 'em--two hundred and seventy-eight dollars' worth that Egberthas to dig down for after he thinks all is over.

  "Ain't it jolly," I says to him while he was writing another check onthe end of the bar. "This is the first time us ladies ever did clean outevery last object at a bazaar. Not a thing left; and I wish we'd got intwice as much, because Sandy don't do things by halves when his moneycomes easy from some poor dub that has thought highly of himself as athinker about money matters." He pretends not to hear me because ofsigning his name very carefully to the check. "And what a sweet littlehome you'll build for the Wales family!" I says. "I can see it now, allornamented up, and with one of these fancy bungalow names up over thefront gate--probably they'll call it The Breakers!"

  But he wouldn't come back; so I left him surrounded by the wreck of hisformer smartiness and went home. At the door where the treasures hadbeen massed not a solitary thing was left but a plush holder for a whiskbroom, with hand-painted pansies on the front; and I decided I couldlive without that. Tim Mahoney was there, grouching round about havingto light up the hall next night for the B'nai B'rith; and I told him totake it for himself. He already had six drawnwork doilies and a vanitybox with white and red powder in it.

  As I go by the Hong Kong Quick Lunch, Sandy and three or four others isup on stools; the Chinaman, cooking things behind the counter, iswearing a lavender-striped silk dressing sacque and a lace boudoir capwith pink ribbons in it. Yes; we'd all had a purple night of it!

  Next day about noon I'm downtown and catch sight of Cousin Egbertsetting in the United States Grill having breakfast; so I feel meanenough to go in and gloat over him some more. I think to find him allmadded up and mortified; but he's strangely cheerful for one who hassuffered. He was bearing up so wonderful that I asked why.

  "Ain't you heard?" says he, blotting round in his steak platter with aslice of bread. "Well, I got even with that Wales outfit just beforedaylight--that's all!"

  "Talk on," I beg, quite incredulous.

  "I didn't get to bed till about two," he says, "and at three I was wokeup by the telephone. It's this big stiff Len Wales, that had ought tohave his head taken off because it only absorbs nourishment from hissystem and gives nothing in return. He's laughing in a childish frenzyand says is this me? I says it is, but that's neither here nor there,and what does he want at this hour? 'It's a good joke on you,' he says,'for the little woman got it on the third trial.' 'Got what?' I wantedto know. 'Got that solitaire,' he yells. 'And it's a good joke on you,all right, because now you owe her the thousand dollars; and I hate tobother you, but you know how some women are that have a delicate,high-strung organization. She says she won't be able to sleep a wink ifyou don't bring it up to her so she can have all our little treasureunder her pillow; and I think, myself, it's better to have it allsettled and satisfactory while the iron's hot, and you'd probably preferit that way, too; and she says she won't mind, this time, taking yourcheck, though the actual money would be far more satisfactory, becauseyou know what women are--"

  "Say! He raves on like this for three minutes, stopping to laugh like amaniac about every three words, before I can get a word in to tell himthat I'm a delicate, high-strung organization myself, if you come rightdown to it, and I can't stand there in my nightgown listening to astring of nonsense. He chokes and says: 'What nonsense?' And I ask himdoes he think I'd pay a thousand dollars out on a game I hadn'toverlooked? And he says didn't I agree to in the presence of witnesses,and the cards is laid out right there now on the dining-room table if Igot the least suspicion the game wasn't played fair, and will I come upand look for myself! And I says 'Not in a thousand years!' Because whatdoes he think I am!

  "So then Mis' Wales she breaks in and says: 'Listen, Mr. Floud! You aretaking a most peculiar attitude in this matter. You perhaps don'tunderstand that it means a great deal to dear Leonard and me--try tothink calmly and summon your finer instincts. You said I could not onlyplay with my own cards at any hour of the night or day, but in my ownhome; and I chose to play here, because conditions are more harmoniousto my psychic powers--' And so on and so on; and she can't understand mypeculiar attitude once more, till I thought I'd bust.

  "It was lucky she had the telephone between us or I should certainly ofbeen pinched for a crime of violence. But I got kind of collected in mysenses and I told her I already had been pushed as far as I could be;and then I think of a good one: I ask her does she know what GeneralSherman said war was? So she says, 'No; but what has that got to do withit?' 'Well, listen carefully!' I says. 'You tell dear Leonard that I amnow saying my last word in this matter by telling you both to go towar--and then ask him to tell you right out what Sherman said war was.'

  "I listened a minute longer for her scream, and when it come, like sweetmusic or something, I went to bed again and slept happy. Yes, sir; I goteven with them sharks all right, though she's telling all over town thismorning that I have repudiated a debt of honour and she's going to havethat thousand if there's any law in the land; and anyway, she'll get metook up for conducting a common gambling house. Gee! It makes me feelgood!"

  That's the way with this old Egbert boy; nothing ever seems to faze himlong.

  "How much do you lose on the night?" I ask him.

  "Well, the bar was a great help," he says, very chipper; "so I only loseabout fourteen hundred all told. It'll make a nice bunch for theBelgians, and the few dollars you ladies made at your cheap booths willhelp some."

  "How will your fourteen hundred lost be any help to the Belgians?" Iwanted to know; and he looked at me very superior and as crafty as afox.

  "Simple enough!" he says in a lofty manner. "I was going to give what Iwin, wasn't I? So why wouldn't I give what I lose? That's plain enoughfor any one but a woman to see, ain't it? I give Mis' Ballard, thetreasurer, a check for fourteen hundred not an hour ago. I told you Iknew how to run one of these grafts, didn't I? Didn't I, now?"

  Wasn't that just like the old smarty? You never know when you got himnailed. And feeling so good over getting even with the Wales couple thathad about a thousand dollars of his money that very minute!

  * * * * *

  Still from the dimly lighted bunk house came the wail of Sandy Sawtelleto make vibrant the night. He had returned to his earlier song afterintermittent trifling with an extensive repertoire:

  There's a broken heart for every light
on Broadway, A million tears for every gleam, they say. Those lights above you think nothing of you; It's those who love you that have to pay....

  It was the wail of one thwarted and perishing. "Ain't it the sobbingtenor?" remarked his employer. "But you can't blame him after thekilling he made before. Of course he'll get to town sooner or later andplay this fourteen number, being that the new reform administration,with Lon Price as Mayor, is now safely elected and the game has openedup again. Yes, sir; he's nutty about stitches in a mule. I wouldn't putit past him that he had old Jerry kicked on purpose to-day!"