Produced by Al Haines
KID SCANLAN
BY
H. C. WITWER
AUTHOR OF
THE LEATHER PUSHERS, FIGHTING BLOOD, ETC.
GROSSET & DUNLAP
PUBLISHERS
NEW YORK
Copyright, 1920,
BY SMALL, MAYNARD & COMPANY
(INCORPORATED)
DEDICATED TO
ALLAN HENRY WITWER
MY SIX-YEAR-OLD DESCENDANT WHO WEEPS BITTERLY WHEN I READ MY YARNS ALOUD TO HIS PATIENT MOTHER
H. C. W.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER
I. LAY OFF MACDUFF II. EAST LYNCH III. PLEASURE ISLAND IV. LEND ME YOUR EARS V. "EXIT, LAUGHING" VI. THE UNHAPPY MEDIUM VII. LIFE IS REEL! VIII. HOSPITAL STUFF
KID SCANLAN
CHAPTER I
LAY OFF, MACDUFF!
Brains is great things to have, and many's the time I've wished I had aset of 'em in _my_ head instead of just plain bone! Still they's a lotof guys which has gone through life like a yegg goes through a safe,and taken everything out of it that wasn't nailed, with nothin' intheir head but hair!
A college professor gets five thousand a year, a good lightweight willgrab that much a fight. A school teacher drags down fifteen a week,and the guy that looks after the boilers in the school buildin' getsthirty!
Sweet cookie!
So don't get discouraged if the pride of the family gets throwed out ofschool because he thinks twice two is eighteen and geography is playedwith nets. The chances is very bright that young Stupid will beholdin' the steerin' wheel of his own Easy Eight when the other guys,which won all the trick medals for ground and lofty learnin', will bewonderin' why a good bookkeeper never gets more than twenty-five aweek. And then, if he feels he's _got_ to have brains around him, nowthat he's grabbed the other half of the team--money--he can go downtownand buy all the brains he wants for eighteen dollars a week!
So if you're as shy on brains as a bald-headed man is of dandruff, andwhat's more, you _know_ it, cheer up! Because you can bet the gas-billmoney that you got somethin' just as good. Some trick concealed aboutyou that'll keep you out of the bread line. The thing to do is to takean inventory of yourself and find it!
Look good--it's there somewheres!
Kid Scanlan's was hangin' from his left shoulder, and it made himenough dimes in five years to step out of the crowd and watch theothers scramble from the sidelines. It was just an ordinary arm, size36, model A, lot 768, same as we all have--but inside of it the Kid hada wallop that would make a six-inch shell look like a lover's caress!
Inside of his head the Kid had nothin'!
Scanlan went through the welterweight division about like the Marineswent through Belleau Wood, and, finally, the only thing that stoodbetween him and the title was a guy called One-Punch Ross--thechampion. They agreed to fight until nature stopped the quarrel, atGoldfield, Nev. They's two things I'll never forget as long as I paythe premiums on my insurance policy, and they are the first and secondrounds of that fight. That's as far as the thing went, just two shortframes, but more real scrappin' was had in them few minutes than Europewill see if Ireland busts loose! Except that they was more principals,the battle of the Marne would have looked like a chorus men's frolicalongside of the Ross-Scanlan melee. They went at each other likepeeved wildcats and the bell at the end of the first round only seemedto annoy 'em--they had to be jimmied apart. Ross opened the secondround by knockin' Scanlan through the ropes into the ten-dollar boxes,but the Kid was back and in there tryin' again before the referee couldfind the body to start a count. After beatin' the champ from pillar topost and hittin' him with everything but the bucket, the Kid rocks himto sleep with a left swing to the jaw, just before the gong.
The crowd went crazy. I went in the hole for five thousand bucks andthe Kid went in the movies!
I had been handlin' Ross before that battle, but after it I wouldn'thave buried him! This guy was a ex-champion then, and I don't want noex-nothin' around _me_--unless it's a bill.
Right after that scrap, Scanlan sent for me and made me a propositionto look after his affairs for the followin' three years, and the onlytime I lost in acceptin' it was caused by the ink runnin' out of myfountain pen when I was signin' the contract. In them days I had a repfor bein' able to get the money for my athletes that would make Shylocklook like a free spender. Every time one of _my_ boys performed forthe edification of the mob, we got a elegant deposit before we put apen to the articles and we got the balance of the dough before wepulled on a glove. I never left nothin' to chance or the other guy.That's what beat Napoleon and all them birds! Of course, they wasseveral people here and there throughout the country which was morepopular than I was on that account, but which would _you_ rather, have,three cheers or three bucks?
Well, that's the way _I_ figured!
About a month after Scanlan become my only visible means of support, Isigned him up for ten rounds with a bird which said, "What d'ye want,hey?" when you called him Hurricane Harris, and the next day a guycomes in to see me in the little trick office I had staked myself to onBroadway. When he rapped on the door I got up on a chair and took aflash at him over the transom and seein' he looked like ready money, Ilet him come in. He claims his name is Edward R. Potts and that so farhe's president of the Maudlin Moving Picture Company.
"I am here," he says, "to offer you a chance to make twenty thousanddollars. Do you want it?"
"Who _give_ you the horse?" I asks him, playin' safe. "I got to knowwhere this tip come from!"
"Horse?" he mutters, lookin' surprised. "I know nothing of horses!"
"Well," I tells him, "I ain't exactly a liveryman myself, but before Iput any of Kid Scanlan's hard-earned money on one of them equines, Igot to know more about the race than you've spilled so far! What didthe trainer say?"
He was a fat, middle-aged hick that would soon be old, and he wearshalf a pair of glasses over one eye. He aims the thing at me andsmiles.
"I'm afraid I don't understand what you're talking about!" he says."But I fancy it's a pun of some sort! Very well, then, what _did_ thetrainer say?"
I walked over and laid my arm on his shoulder.
"Are you endeavorin' to spoof me?" I asks him sternly. "Or have yougot me confused with Abe Levy, the vaudeville agent? Either way you'relosin' time! I don't care for your stuff myself, and if that's youract, I wouldn't give you a week-end at a movie house!"
He takes off the trick eye-glass and begins to clean it with ahandkerchief.
"My dear fellow!" he says. "It is plain that you do not understand thenature of my proposal. I wish to engage the services of Kid Scanlan,the present incumbent of the welterweight title. We want to make afive-reel feature, based on his rise to the championship. I amprepared to offer you first class transportation to our mammoth studiosat Film City, Cal.; and twenty thousand dollars when the picture iscompleted! What do you say?"
"Have a cigar!" I says, when I get my breath. I throwed a handful of'em in his lap and give the water cooler a play.
"No, thanks!" he says, layin' 'em on the desk. "I never smoke."
"Well," I tells him, "I ain't got a thing to drink in the place, yougotta be careful here, y'know! But to get back to the movie thing,what does the Kid have to do for the twenty thousand fish?"
He takes a long piece of paper from his pocket and lays it down infront of me. It looked like a chattel mortgage on Mexico, and whatparagraphs didn't commence with "to wit," started off with "do hereby."
"All that Mr. Scanlan has to do," he explains, "will be told him by ourdirector at the studios, who will produce the picture. His name is Mr.Salvatore Genaro. Kindly sign where the cross is marked!"
"
Wait!" I says. "We can't take a railroad ride like that for twentythousand, we got to have twenty-five and--"
"All right!" he butts in. "Sign only on the first line!"
"Thirty thousand, I meant to say!" I tells him, "because--"
"Certainly," he cuts me off, handin' over his fountain pen. "Don't useinitials, sign your full name!"
I signed it.
"How do I know we get this money?" I asks him.
"Aha!" he answers. "How do we know that the dawn will come? Mycompany is worth a million dollars, old chap, and that contract youhave is as good as the money! Be at my office at two this afternoonand I will give you the tickets. _Adios_ until then!"
And he blows out of the office.
I closed down the desk, went outside and climbed into my Foolish Four.In an hour I was up to the trainin' camp near Rye where Kid Scanlan waspreparin' for his collision with Hurricane Harris. Scanlan is trainin'for the quarrel by playin' seven up with the room clerk from the BeachHotel, and when I bust in the door he takes a look, throws the cards onthe floor and makes a pass at his little pal so's I'll think he's a newsparrin' partner. I pulled him off and dragged him to one side.
"How would you like to go in the movies?" I says.
"Nothin' doin'!" the Kid tells me. "They make my eyes sore!"
"I don't mean watch 'em!" I explains. "I mean act in 'em! We're goin'out to the well known Coast this afternoon and you're gonna be a moviehero for five reels and thirty thousand bucks!"
"We don't fight Harris?" asks the Kid.
"No!" I says. "What d'ye mean _fight_! Leave that stuff for theroughnecks, we're actors now!"
We got out to Film City at the end of the week and while there wasn'tno brass band to meet us at the station, there was a sad-lookin' guywith one of them buckboard things and what at one time was probably ahorse. I never seen such a gloomy lookin' layout in my life; theyreminded me of a rainy Sunday in Philadelphia. The driver comes up tous and, after takin' a long and searchin' look, says,
"Which one of you fellers is the pugeylist?"
"Pugilist?" I says. "What d'ye mean pugilist? We're the new leadin'men for the stock company here. Pugilist! Ha! Ha! How John Drewwill laugh when I tell him that!"
He takes a piece of paper from his pocket and reads it.
"I'm lookin' for Kid Scanlan and Johnny Green," he announces. "One of'em's supposed to be the welterweight champion, but I doubt it! Inever seen him fight!"
"Well," I says, "you got a good chance to try for the title, bo, if youain't more respectful! I'm Mr. Green and that's Kid Scanlan, thechamp!"
He looks at the Kid and kinda sneers.
"All right!" he says. "Git aboard and I'll take you out to Mr. Genaro.I'll tell you now, though, that if you ain't what you claim, you got towalk back!" He takes a side glance at the Kid. "Champ, eh?" hemutters.
We climb in the buckboard and this guy turns to me and points the whipat the Kid.
"He don't look like no pugeylist to me," he goes on, like he's lookin'for a argument, "let alone a champion! Still looks is deceivin' atthat. Take a crab, for instance--you'd never think from lookin' at itthat you could eat it, would you? No! Git up!"
Git _up_ was right, because the animal this guy had suspended betweenthe shafts had laid right down on the ground outside the station,whilst he was talkin' to us. The noble beast got gamely to its feet atthe word from Gloomy Gus, give a little shiver that rattled the harnessand then turned around to see what its master had drawed from the trainthat mornin'. It took a good eyeful and kinda curled up its lip andsneered at us, showin' its yellow teeth in a sarcastical grin.
"Hold fast!" remarks Gloomy Gus. "It's rough country here and thishorse is about to do a piece of runnin'!" He takes off his belt andwhales that equine over what would a been the back on a regular horse."Step along!" he asks it.
Well, if they had that ride at Coney Island, they'd have made a fortunewith it in one summer, because as soon as Old Dobbin realized he'd beenhit, he started for South Africa and tried to make it in six jumps! Hefolded his long skinny ears back of his neck somewheres and just simplygive himself over to runnin'. We went up hills and down vales thatwould have broke an automobile's heart, we took corners on one leg andcreeks in a jump and when I seen the Pacific Ocean loomin' up in theoffing I begin to pray that the thing couldn't swim! Gloomy Gus leansover and yells in my ear, "Some horse, eh?"
"Is that what it is?" I hollers back.
"Well, he's tryin' all right. He's what you could call a runnin'fool!" We shot past somethin' that was just a black blur for a minuteand then disappeared back in the dust. "What was that?" I yells.
"Montana!" screams Gloomy Gus, "and--"
"Ha! Ha!" roars the Kid, openin' his mouth for the first time."That's goin' a few! Let me know when we pass Oregon, I got a friendthere!"
"Montana Bill!" explains Gloomy Gus, frownin' at the Kid. "That's theonly place you can get licker within five miles of Film City!" Helooks at the Kid again and mutters half to himself, "Champion, eh!"
Then he yanks in the reins and we slow down to about a runaway's paceright near what looks to be a World's Fair with a big wall around itand an iron gate in the middle. We shot up to the entrance and thehorse calls it a day and stops, puffin' and blowin' like a fatpiano-mover.
"Film City!" hollers Gloomy Gus. "Git out here and walk in. Mr.Genaro's office is right back of the African Desert!"
I thanked him for bringin' us in alive. He didn't say nothin' to me,but as he was passin' in the gates I seen him lookin' after the Kid andshakin' his head. "Champion, hey!" he mumbles.
This Film City place would have made delerium tremens lay down andquit. There was Indians, cowboys, cannibals, chorus girls, Japs,sheriffs, train robbers, and--well, it looked like the place where theyassemble dime novels. A guy goes racin' past us on a horse with a lotof maniacs, yellin' and shootin', tearin' after him and on the otherside a gang of laborers in tin hats and short skirts is havin' a battleroyal with swords. Three feet from where we're standin' a house isburnin' down and two guys is sluggin' each other on the roof. We walkalong a little further and run into a private conversation. Some guyin a new dress suit is makin' love to a dame, while another fellowstands in front of them and says at the top of his voice, "Remembernow, you're madly in love with her, but father detests the sight ofyour face. Ready--hey, camera--all right--wait a minute, wait aminute, don't wrestle with her, embrace her, will you, _em_brace her!"
Kid Scanlan takes this all in with his eyes poppin' out of his head andhis mouth as open as a stuss game.
"Some joint, eh?" he says to me. "This is what I call a _regular_cabaret! See if we can get a table near the front!"
A lot of swell-lookin' dames comes in--well, of course it _was_ somewarm out there, but even at that they was takin' an awful chance ongettin' pneumonia, and files out of a house on the left and starts todance and I had to drag the Kid away bodily. We duck through a sidestreet, and every time we turn around some guy with a camera yells forus to get out of the way, but finally we wind up at Mr. Genaro'soffice. He ain't in, but a guy that was tells us Genaro's makin' apicture of Richard the Third, over behind the Street Scene in Tokio.We breezed over there and we found him.
Genaro is in the middle of what looks like the chorus of a burlesqueshow, only the men is wearin' tights instead of the women. I pickedhim out right away because he was the first guy I had seen in the placein citizen's clothes, outside of the guys with the kodaks. He waslittle and fat, lookin' more like a human plum puddin' than anythingelse. When we had worked our way through the mob, we saw that he wasshakin' his fist at 'em and bawlin' 'em out.
"Are you Mr. Genaro?" I asks him.
"Joosta wait, joosta wait!" he hollers over his shoulder without evenlookin' around. "I'm a ver' busy joosta now! Writa me the letta!"
"Where d'ye get that stuff?" I yells back, gettin' sore. "D'ye knowwho we are?"
I seen the rest of them gigglin',
and Genaro dances around and throwsup his hands.
"Aha!" he screams, pullin' at his hair. "You maka me crazy! What's amat--what you want? Queek, don't make me wait!"
The Kid growls at him and whispers in my ear,
"Will I bounce him?"
"Not yet!" I tells him. "I'm Mr. Green," I says to Genaro, "and thisis Kid Scanlan, welterweight champion of the world, and if you pull anymore of that joosta wait stuff, you'll be able to say you fought him!"
He drops his hands and smiles.
"Excuse, please!" he says. "I maka mistake!" he grabs hold of his headagain and groans, "Gotta bunch bonehead here this morning," he goes on,noddin' to 'em. "Driva me crazy! Shakespeare he see these feller playReechard, he joomp out of he'sa grave!" He swings around at them allof a sudden and makes a face at 'em, "Broadaway star, eh?" he snarls."Bah! You maka me seek! Go away for one, two hour. I senda foryou--you all what you calla the bunk!"
On the level I thought he was gonna bite 'em!
The merry villagers scatter, and Genaro turns around to us and wipeshis face with a red silk handkerchief.
"You knowa the piece?" he asks us. "Reechard the Third, Shakespeare?"
"Not quite!" I says. "What is he--a local scrapper?"
The Kid butts in and shoves me away.
"Don't mind this guy," he says to Genaro. "He's nothin' but a igrantroughneck! _I_ got you right away. I remember in this Richard theThird thing--they's a big battle in the last act and Dick tells agunman by the name of MacDuff to lay off him or he'll knock him for agoal!"
"Not lay off!" says Genaro, smiling "Lay on! Lay on, MacDuff!"
"Yeh?" inquires the Kid. "I thought it was lay off. I only seen thefrolic once. I took off a member of Dick's gang at the Grand Opreyhouse, when I was broke in Trenton."
"Nex' week we start _your_ picture," says Genaro to the Kid. "Mr. VanAylstyne he'sa write scenario now. This gonna be great foryou--magnificent! He'sa give you everything! Firsta reel you fall offa cliff!"
"Who, me?" hollers the Kid,
"Si!" smiles Genaro. "Bada man wanna feex you, so you no fighta thechamp! You getta the beeg idea?"
"What's next?" asks the Kid, frownin'.
"Ah!" pipes Genaro, rollin' his eyes at the sky. "We giva you thewhole picture! Second reel you get run over by train--fasta mail! Yousee? So you no fighta the champ!"
The Kid looks at me and grabs my arm.
"This guy's a maniac!" he hollers. "Did you get that railroad thing?He--"
Genaro goes right on like he don't hear him.
"Thirda reel!" he says. "Thirda reel you get hit by two automobiles,this bada feller try to feex you so you no fighta the champ!"
"Wait!" I butts in. "You must--"
"But fiftha reel--aaah!" Genaro don't pay no attention to me, butkisses his hand at a tree. "Fiftha reel," he says, "she'sa great! Geteverybody excite! You get throw from sheep in ocean, fella shoot atyou when you try sweem, bada fella come along in motorboat, he'sa runyou down! Then you swim five, six, seven mile to land and there dozenfeller beat you with club--so you no fighta the champ!"
The Kid has sunk down on a chair and he's fannin' himself. His facewas the color of skim milk.
"What you think?" asks Genaro. "She's a maka fine picture, what?"
"Great!" I says. "If that guy that wants to fix the Kid so he nofighta the champ loses out, they can't say he wasn't tryin' anyhow!Why don't you throw in another reel, showin' the lions devourin' theKid--so he no fighta the champ?"
"That's a good!" Genaro shakes his head. "I spika to Van Aylstyne!"
He took us up to his office and when we get inside the door they's adame sittin' there which would make Venus look like a small-townsoubrette. She looked like these other movie queens would like to!Whilst we're givin' her the up and down, she smiles at the Kid and heimmediately drops his hat on the floor and knocks over a inkwell.
"Miss Vincent," says Genaro, "this Mr. Kid Scanlan. He'sa work withyou nex' week. This Mr. Green, hisa fr'en'."
We shake hands all around and the Kid elbows me to one side.
"Where are you goin' this afternoon?" he asks the dame. "Anywheres?"
Genaro raps on the desk.
"Joosta one minoote!" he calls out. "Mr. Kid Scanlan, I would like--"
"Joosta wait!" pipes the Kid. "Writa me the letta! I'm ver' busyjoosta now!" He puts one hand on the mantelpiece and drapes himself infront of the dame. "And you haven't been here long, eh?" he says.
Genaro frowns for a minute and then he grins and winks at me.
"Miss Vincent!" he butts in. "You show Mr. Kid Scanlan all around thisafternoon, what? Explain him everything about nex' week we maka hispicture. What you think, no?"
"Yes!" pipes the Kid grabbin' his hat. "I never been nowheres. Letsgo!"
The dame smiles some more, and, well, Scanlan must have been born witha horseshoe in each hand because she takes his arm and they blow.
Just as they were goin' out the door, in comes Gloomy Gus which broughtus up from the station. He looks at the Kid and this dame goin' outand he sneers after 'em.
"Champion!" he mutters, curlin' his lip. "Huh!"
The next mornin' we meet this guy Van Aylstyne who doped out the stuffso the Kid "no fighta the champ!" He's a tall, slim, gentle-lookin'bird, all dressed in white like a Queen of the May or somethin' andafter hearin' him talk I figured my first guess was about right. Wealso got to know Edmund De Vronde, one of the leadin' men and the shopgirls' delight, and him and Van Aylstyne were both members of the samelodge. Whilst we're standin' there talkin' to Genaro, who I found outwas the headkeeper or somethin', along comes Miss Vincent in one ofthem trick autos that has a seat for two thin people and a gasolinetank. Only, you don't sit in 'em, you just stoop, with your kneesjammed up against your chin. She drives this thing right up and stopswhere we're standin'. If she ever looked any better, she'd have fellfor herself!
"I'm going to Long Beach," she sings out, "and I'm going to hit nothingbut the tops of the trees! Come along?"
De Vronde, Van Aylstyne and the Kid left their marks at the same time,but you know, my boy was welterweight champ and when that auto buzzedaway from there he went with it.
"Ugh!" remarks De Vronde. "I loathe those creatures!" He dusts offhis sleeve where the Kid had grabbed it to toss him to one side. "Thefellow struck me!" he says indignantly.
Van Aylstyne picks up his hat which had fell off in the struggle.
"Thank Heavens," he tells the other guy, "we will soon be rid of him!I'll have the script ready for Genaro to-morrow! I never saw such avicious assault!"
They walked away, and I turns to Genaro who had stepped aside for aminute.
"Say!" I asks him. "Is this De Vronde guy worth anything to you?"
"_Sapristi_!" he tells me, makin' a face. "I could keel him! He'sawan greata big what you call bunk! He'sa no good! He can't act, hecan do nothing. Joosta got nice face--that's all!"
"Well," I says, "he won't have no nice face, if he don't lay off theKid! If Scanlan hears him make any cracks about him like he just didnow--well, he'll practically ruin him, that's all!"
After a while the Kid and Miss Vincent comes back and she hurries awayto change her clothes because she's got to work in this Richard theThird thing. The Kid is all covered with dirt and mud and his face isall cut up from the flyin' pebbles and sand.
"Say!" he says to me. "That's some dame, believe me! We passedeverything on the road from here to Long Beach and on the way back webeat the Sante Fe in by a city block! Come on over and see her work;she's gonna act in that Richard the Third thing!"
We breezed over past the African Desert and there's the troupe allgathered around a guy in his shirt sleeves, who's readin' 'em somethin'out of a book. One of the camera guys tells me it's Mr. Duke, Genaro'sassistant.
"A fine piece of Camembert he is, too!" says this guy. "He put me overon this side to get the battle scene from an angle and tells me toshoot
the minute the melee starts in case I don't get his signal. Oneof them dames fainted from the heat a minute ago and the rest of 'em gorushin' around yellin' like a lot of nuts. Naturally I thought thething went in the picture and I took forty feet of it before he calledme off! He's gonna report me now and I'm liable to get the gate whenGenaro shows up! I'll _get_ the big stew, though,--watch me!"
At this stage of the game, this Mr. Duke waves for us to come over.
"Where's Mr. Genaro?" he wants to know.
"Search me!" I tells him. "I just left him an hour or so ago and--"
He hurls down the book and dances around like he's gonna throw a fit orsomethin'.
"I been all over the place," he yells, "and I can't find him! I wantto get this exterior while the sun is right and there's no Richard orno Genaro!"
The Kid, who has been talkin' to Miss Vincent, comes over then and says,
"What's all the excitement?"
"Who are you?" asks Duke.
"We're from New York," I butts in, "and--"
"Well, sufferin' cats!" hollers Duke. "Why didn't you say so before?One of you is the man I'm holdin' this picture for!"
"Why, Genaro says," I begins, "that next week is--"
"Never mind Genaro!" shrieks Duke. "He ain't here now and I'mdirecting this picture! See that sun commencing to get dim? Which oneof you was sent on by Mr. Potts?"
"This guy here!" I tells him, pointin' to the Kid. "I'm his manager."
"Carries a manager, does he?" snorts Duke. "Well, run him in thedressin' room there and get a costume on him. Hurry up, will you--lookat that sun!"
We beat it on the run for the place he pointed out, and as we startedaway I seen him throw out his chest and say to one of the dames,
"_That's_ the way those stars should be handled all the time! Fussingover them is a mistake; you must show them at once that no such thingas temperament will be tolerated! Broadway star, eh? Well, you sawhow _I_ handled him!"
I didn't quite make that stuff, but I felt that somethin' was wrongsomewheres. Genaro had told me the Kid's picture wasn't to be made fora week, but we were gettin' thirty thousand for this stunt so I says tothe Kid,
"Get in there and shed them clothes of yours and I'll beat it over tothe hotel and get your ring togs! They're gettin' ready to fix you soyou no fighta the champ!"
I beat it back to the trick hotel and got the suitcase with the Kid'sgloves, shoes and trunks in it and it didn't take me five minutes toget back, but that Duke guy is on my neck the minute he sees me.
"Will you hurry up?" he hollers, pullin' a watch on me. "Look at thatsun!"
"He'll be out in a minute now!" I says. "I got a guy in there helpin'him dress."
"He knows this stuff all right, doesn't he?" he asks me. "I understandhe's been doing nothing but the one line for years."
"Knows it?" I laughs. "He's the world's champion; that's good enough,ain't it?"
"That's what they all say!" he sneers. "All I hope is that he ain't nocheap ham! Look at that sun gettin' away from me!"
While I'm tryin' to dope out what all these birds in tights and withfeathers in their hats has got to do with "How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle," Duke grabs my arm.
"Drag that fellow out of the dressin' room," he says, "and tell him heenters from the second entrance where those trees are. He goes rightthrough the Tower scene--he knows it by heart, I guess. I'll be rightup on that platform there directing and that's where he wants toface--not the camera!"
Well, I went into the dressin' room and the Kid is ready. He's got ona pair of eight ounce gloves, red silk trunks and ring shoes.
"What do I pull now?" he asks me.
"Just walk right out from between them trees," I says, "and they'll tipyou off to the rest."
We sneaked around the scene from the back and stood behind the treewhich Duke had pointed out. A stage hand or somethin' who seemed to besufferin' from hysterics told us not to let Duke see us till we enteredthe scene, because it was considered bad luck to walk before the camerafirst.
"Clear!" we hear Duke yellin', and then he blows a whistle. "Hey, movefaster there, you extra people, a little ginger! Billy, face center,can't you! Now, Miss Vincent, register fear--that's it, great! Allright, Richard!"
"That's you!" pipes the stage hand, and on walks the Kid. He stands inthe middle of the scene like he done many a time in the newspaperoffices back home and strikes a fightin' pose.
A couple of women shrieks and runs back of the trees hidin' their facesand Miss Vincent falls in a chair and laughs herself sick. To say theKid created a sensation would be puttin' it mild--he was a riot! Therest of the bunch howls out loud, holdin' their sides and staggerin' upagainst each other, and the stage hands rolled around the floor. Butthe guy that was runnin' the thing, this Duke person, almost faints,and then he gets red in the face and jumps down off the platform.
"What do you mean?" he screams at the Kid. "What do you mean by comingout before these ladies and gentlemen in that garb? How dare you? Isthat your interpretation of Richard the Third? Have you been drinkingor what?"
"What's the matter, pal?" asks the Kid, lookin' surprised. "I got towear _somethin'_, don't I?"
Off goes the bunch howlin' again.
"If this is a joke, sir," yells Duke, "it will be a mighty costly onefor you!"
This De Vronde has been standin' on the side lookin' on and the Kid,seein' Miss Vincent, waves a glove at her. She waves back holdin' herside and smiles.
"Haw! Haw! Haw!" roars this De Vronde guy. "How droll!"
The Kid is over to him in two steps. He's seen that everybody isgivin' him the laugh and he realizes he's in wrong somehow, but thething has him puzzled.
"Where d'ye get that 'haw, haw' stuff?" he snarls, stickin' his chinout in front of De Vronde.
"Why, you ignorant ass!" sneers De Vronde, out loud, so's Miss Vincentcan hear him. "If you had any brains you'd know!"
"I don't need no brains!" snaps the Kid, settin' himself. "I got_this_!"
And he drops De Vronde with a right hook to the jaw!
"Boys!" screams Duke, pointin' to the Kid. "Throw that ruffian out!"
A couple of big huskies makes a dash for the Kid, and I figured I mightas well get in the thing now as later, so I tripped one as he was goin'past and the Kid bounces the other with a short left. De Vronde jumpsup and hits the Kid over the head with a cane, while Miss Vincentscreams and hollers "Coward!" Then a bunch of supers comes runnin' infrom the back just as the Kid puts De Vronde down for keeps, and in aminute everybody was in there tryin'.
Everybody but one guy, and he was turnin' the crank of his camera likehe was gettin' paid by the number of revolutions the thing made.
While it lasted, it was some fracas, as we say at the studio. Itcertainly was a scream to see them guys, all dressed up to play thelife out of Richard the Third, fallin' all over each other to get outof the way of the Kid's arms and bein' held back by the jam behind 'em.After the Kid has beat most of them up and I have took care of a fewmyself, a whistle blows and they all fall back--and in rushes Genaro.
"Sapristi!" he hollers. "What you mean eh? What you people do with myReechard?"
Duke tries to see him out of his one good eye.
"This scoundrel," he pipes, pointin' to the Kid, "came out here to playRichard the Third costumed like that!"
Genaro looks from me to the Kid and grabs his head.
"What?" he yells. "That feller want to play Reechard? Ho, ho! Youmaka me laugh! You're crazy lika the heat! That's what you callfighting champion of the world! He'sa Mr. Kid Scanlan. We maka hisapicture nex' week!"
Duke gives a yell and falls in a chair.
I pulls on my coat and wipes my face with a handkerchief.
"Yes," I says, "and they just tried to fix him so he no fighta thechamp!"
"Zowie!" pipes Duke, sprawled out in the chair, "I thought he wasRoberts, the man we wired to come on from Boston! What in the name ofCharlie C
haplin will we do now? Potts will be here to-morrow to seethis picture and you know what it means, if it isn't made!"
The Kid is over talkin' to Miss Vincent and Genaro calls him over.
"_Viola_!" he tells him. "You see what you do? You spoil the greatapicture, the actor, the everything! To-morrow Mr. Potts he'sa comehere. 'Where's a Reechard the Third, Genaro?' he'sa wanna know. Itella him--then, good-by everybody!"
"Everything would have been O.K.," says the Kid, pointin' to De Vrondewho's got a couple of dames workin' over him with smellin' salts."Everything would have been O.K. at that, if Stupid over there hadn'tgimme the haw, haw!"
We go back to the dressing-room and the Kid gets on his clothes. Thatnight, findin' that we was as welcome in Film City as smallpox, we wentover to Frisco and saw the town.
When we come back the next mornin' and breeze in the gates, the firstthing we see is Gloomy Gus that drove us up from the station.
"Say!" he sings out. "You fellers are gonna get it good! The boss ishere."
"Yeh?" says the Kid. "Where's Miss Vincent?"
"Talkin' to the boss!" he answers. "I don't believe you're no fighter,either!"
"Where was you yesterday?" I asks him.
"Mind yer own business!" he snaps. He gives the Kid the up and down."Champion of the world!" he sneers. "Huh!"
"Go 'way!" the Kid warns him. "I got enough work yesterday!"
"I think you're a big bluff!" persists the gloomy guy, puttin' up hishands and circlin' around the Kid. "Come on and fight or acknowledgeyore master!"
He makes a pass at the Kid and the Kid steps inside of it and dropshim, just as a big auto comes roarin' past and stops. Out hops friendPotts, the guy that practically give us our start in the movies. Inother words, the thirty thousand dollar kid!
"Well, well!" he pipes, lookin' at the gloomy guy on the turf and thenat us. "What does this mean, sir? Are you trying to annihilate all myemployees? Do you know you cost me a small fortune yesterday byruining that Richard the Third picture?"
"I'm sorry, boss," the Kid tells him, proddin' Gloomy Gus carelesslywith his foot, "but all your hired men jumped at me at once and a guyhas to protect himself, don't he?"
"Nonsense!" grunts Potts. "You assaulted Mr. De Vronde and temporarilydisabled several of my best people! I had made all arrangements forthe release of that Shakespeare picture in two days, and you have putme in a terrible hole!"
"Now, listen," I butts in, "I tried to--"
"Not a word!" he cuts me off, wavin' his hands. "One of the cameramen, another infernal idiot, kept turning the crank while thisdisgraceful brawl was at its height and I have proof of your villainyon film! I'll use it as a basis to sever my contract with you and--"
"Slow up!" I says. "If you lay down on the thirty thousand iron men,I'll pull a suit on you!"
Along comes a guy and touches Potts on the arm.
"They're waiting for you in the projecting room," he says.
"Come with me--both of you!" barks Potts, "and see for yourself thedamage you caused!"
We followed him around to a little dark room with three or four chairsin it and a sheet on one wall. De Vronde, Miss Vincent, Duke andGenaro are there waitin' for us.
Well, they start to show the picture, and everything is all right up tothe time the Kid busted into the drama. Now I hadn't seen nothin' outof the way at the time it actually happened, but here in this littleroom it was a riot when they showed it on the sheet. You could seeScanlan wallop De Vronde and then in another second the massacre is onfull blast!
On the level, it was the funniest thing I'd seen in a long time. A guywith lockjaw would have to laugh at it. Here was the Kid knockin' 'emcold as fast as they come on, with their little trick hats and the pinksilk tights. There was a pile of Shakespeare actors a foot deep allaround him as far as you could see. Potts is laughin' louder thananybody in the place, and when they finally shut the thing off he slapsthe Kid on the back.
"Great!" he hollers. "Wonderful! Who directed that?"
"_I_ did!" pipes Duke, throwin' out his chest. "Some picture, eh?"
"Joosta one minoote!" says Genaro, wakin' up, "joosta one minoote! Itwas under my supervision, Mr. Potts! I feexa the--"
"Cut that strip of film off!" Potts interrupts, "and take four morereels based on the same idea! Get somebody to write a scenario arounda fighter busting into the drama and playing Shakespeare! It's neverbeen done, and if the rest of it is as funny as that it will be aknockout!"
"But Reechard!" says Genaro. "What of heem?"
"Drop it!" snaps Potts. "Everybody get to work on this and I'll stayhere till it's finished!"
I looked around and pipe the Kid--over talkin' to Miss Vincent, ofcourse.
"Say!" he wants to know. "Do we go to Oakland in that rabbit-chaser ofyours this afternoon, Miss Vincent?"
"Sir!" butts in De Vronde. "This lady and I are conversing!"
"Now listen, Cutey!" smiles the Kid. "You know what happenedyesterday, don't you?"
De Vronde turns pale and Miss Vincent giggles.
"Of course we're going to Oakland!" she laughs. "I'm going to be yourleading woman next week in 'How Kid Scanlan Won the Title.'"
"Suits me!" says the Kid. "But say, on the level now--I'm thereforty-seven ways on that Shakespeare thing, ain't I?"