# The Red Book Magazine/Volume 3/Number 5/The Elusive Graft

The Red Book magazine, 1904 Sept, pp. 592–598. Illustrations by Dan Sayre Groesbeck may be omitted.
The Elusive Graft
BY REX E. BEACH
Author of “Honor of Thieves,” “Reverend Pericles Peters, Pirate,” etc.
His astonishing garments first caught my eye, as he stood head and shoulders above the crowd; then recognizing the brown and leathery face I felt a breath of the hills again, for I had last seen him in faded flannel, with hip boots red from the rusty soil of the mines. Now I watched him for a time unnoticed.
“Chimoyee,” said I, in the tongue of the Siwash.
Whirling, he seized me with avidity.
“Well, if it ain't the Kid!” he cried. “I thought you was on the Coast with the Native Sons. Say! but I'm glad to see you.”
“I'm on the road,” said I.
“You're welcomer than four aces, for I'm emaciated with desires for society. I've been lost on the desert and snow-bound in the Arctics, but they was both sociable and overcrowded compared to the isolation of this here tomb.” He indicated the rushing, throbbing Chicago throng.
“The talk in me is expanding fast. Come away from the noise of this desolation, for I'm cramping with conversation.”
“'Tug,'” said I, when the waiter had our orders, “how can you justify the color of those clothes? What if the Klondyke boys heard that 'Tug' McCabe was incriminated with red vests and dove-colored frock coats?”
“I guess they'd call a meeting on me,” he said, “but it's my love of the refined and cropping. I've got it strong; regular four-foot vein of free-milling aesthetics. I never had a chance to throw myself in Dawson, 'cause styles in Mackinaws don't flicker much, but when I came out this fall, with a $40,000 'poke,' says I:
“'It's McCabe to the bat; he'll gorge on the refinements of art, literature and the table de hote.' So the first night in Frisco I went to the Orpheum—continuous variety. A guy 'mushed' onto the stage to sing, and I says:
“'Me for those clothes.' More I watched, better he looked. He could sing, too; none of your decrepit little noises out of him. No, sir! I'll bet you could hear him four blocks—with the piano going.
“Next day I found the highest-priced tailor on Market Street. Says I, 'Have you the inclinations to make clothes?'
“'Certainly,' says the little man.
“'Then come on,' and I dragged him down the street, kicking like a frog, thinking he was abducted. I sat him in my box at the theater, where he shivered and rolled his eyes, till the overgrown voice came on. Then says I, 'Get a blue-print of that sketch, for he looks good to me, and I have it in mind to dress up likewise!'
“It was hard to entice him till I showed my mint receipts, and said I was from Dawson. I think he did a fair job, don't you?” He eyed himself with modest approbation.
“What brings you so far east?” I enquired evasively, not caring to go on record.
“Kicking like a frog, thinking he was abducted.”
“Well, it's a long story, tinged with pathos and figured with love and automobiles, broken hearts and Irish stew, full of unexpected aimlessness and a kind of misfortune.
“Girl, did you say? You win. By name, Margharita Olivia Shortz. She soloed on a Remington at the Palace Hotel, and when it came to taking dictation she assayed about 21.60 to the ounce. I decided from a distance to marry her, but getting tired of this profile acquaintance I tried to reduce the range and explode a few bits of Klondyke repartee. No go. She'd track my conversations down in a little book and send 'em up to the room at twenty cents a page. I tried all the modern methods; finally followed her to her boarding-house. The next day I was ingratiated into a front room and had rented the landlady's confidence so that she plugged for me—again, no go.
“Margharita Olivia Shortz.”
“On the third day I met her in the hall and took a strangle-hold on her arm.
“'Let me go!' says she.
“'Not in this world,' says I. 'For why? Because I've got a hunch that indicates we're a-going to be married. Let's settle the details.'
“'How dare you!' says she, quite pale and shaky. 'Let me go! What do you mean by dogging me this way?'
“'That's all,' says I, 'just matrimony. 'You might as well get it over with.'
“She stood for a minute undecided, and then she smiled. That night we argued it in the parlor. I presented my pedigree, vaccination mark, and the mint receipts for a couple of thousand ounces of fresh Dawson gold, which last would have cinched the deal in our country, but she couldn't see it my way.
“However, after wasting a week getting acquainted, she came round—on conditions.
“'I won't marry without papa's consent,' says she, blushing a kind of light blue or pink, I forget which, being as they're about alike. 'If he'll come to the wedding, and give us his blessing, I'll do it.'
“'What's his number? We'll call a cab.'
“'No. He's in Chicago. I'll give you a letter to him, and if you approach him as originally as you did me he can't refuse. He keeps a restaurant on the North Side.'
“'Don't worry, pet,' says I, 'there's nothing stilted or conventional about me. He'll come if have to rope him.'
“On the train east was a refined-looking chap, who learned I was from Alaska, my age, how much I'd made, and the number of teeth I had had filled, all during one cigar, and without seeming inquisitive, either. At lunch he introduced me to an awful nice girl; one of these full-of-innocence-and-maidenly-curiosity kind, with shiny finger nails, and a baby blue conversation.
“During the meal, Lewis, that was his name, casually laid his knife on his plate and toyed with it, tapping sort of inconsequent.
“You knew I was an operator, didn't you? Sure! Ran an instrument at a water tank on the C. P. R. before I went North. Naturally my ear caught on. He spelled out, 'Fresh from Klondyke. Big roll. Ain't it a cinch?'
“'Oho,' thinks I, 'an undiscovered species of the “bunco” fauna. Let us pursue it. If not indigenous to Pullmans, maybe it can be acclimated to Alaska with benefit.'
“To a man that's dealt a brace game, done the 'spectacle' gag, handled walnut shells and a matrimonial agency, anything new in the graft line feels sweet and refreshing, so I laid back and looked appetizing.
“Lewis had copper mines in California, irrigations in Uruguay, a non-dropable collar button, and a rat poison the baby could eat with impunity. Nothing doing: I wouldn't invest. We played 'Solo,' and I won twenty-three dollars, with that 'pass' of Deaf Mike's. At night the girl sat on the back platform and told my fortune. She was all-fired alluring, too, and under normal conditions I s'pose I'd have slipped, but I thought of Ollie. I put my watch in my sock, kept my coat buttoned, and stated I was going East to kidnap a crusty father-in-law. When I turned in I slept with my valuables inside my pillow-case.
“Well, they tried many stunts, but I was on, and so it ran till we landed here in Chicago.
“Curtain rises the afternoon I arrive. I'm discovered in front of the hotel, lonesome, and full of desires. From right center come noises, like the honking of geese. Enter low-browed, undershot automobile, with profile like a bull pup. Lewis is at the wheel, with Miss Edgemore, our train friend, and another in the cabin. He debouches among smells, and lays hands on me.
“'Miss Altwine,' he says, to the new one, 'Mr. McCabe, the Klondyke King. I'm showing the ladies around, Mac. Won't you join us?'
“'Sure,' says I, 'just let me leave a message at the office.'
“I slipped in and stripped for the hurdles; left my money, watch, cuff-buttons and nail-file with the clerk.
“Say! we 'chauffed' down that trail till the other machines looked like they ran backwards.
“This is Curley.”
“I've shot the White Horse Rapids in birch-bark, and slid down the Chilcoot on a shovel, but this kind of sky-rocketing disorganizes me—it's dangerous. I cantered along the conversational speedway the best I could, but I'd shy and break my gait when an obstacle crossed our orbit. It acted like an anaesthetic on Lewis, though. He just lashed the wheel amidships and let her run before the wind, gazing into Miss Edgemore's Luxfers like he was hunting microbes. I saw lamp posts hurry past till they looked like bristles in a tooth-brush.
“At last we come to a big road-house out north of town, and prepared for the eats. When I saw the wine card I thought of my money, safe at the hotel, and knew I couldn't lose, so I scratched the few things I didn't like and told the waiter to play it on the first drawing.
“We robbed that table from soda to hock, and managed to spoil lots of stuff between us. It was a great feed all right; worse than when Yukon Pete ate at the Waldorf.
“Well, after a while Lewis leans over and emits these lines:
“'Have you got the goods to settle with?'
“'What goods? What settle? I'm broke,' says I, and I thinks: 'Aha! here comes this shrinking blue ribbon graft I've laid for so long.'
“'Whew!' says he, 'so'm I.'
“'That's all right,' I suggests, 'we'll leave your auto for security, and go in on the train.'
“'I sort of hate to. It ain't mine,' says he; 'I just walked into the stable, and give them the rush act. Maybe some of your friends'll drop in.'
“'I haven't got one south of Juneau that would part with enough to square this bill if I gave him gas,' says I, wondering what the game was.
“Now it seems this talk was on the square sure enough, and the livery man, being of a dark and suspicious nature, thought Lewis' motives were selfish, so he telephoned all over town for traces of his machine. He called up this place, stating that we were adventurers and -resses, and had stolen the rig, leaving his boy in an unconscious condition. He further said that our bill was bad.
“Then we got it. I'd seen the proprietor hanging around kind of uneasy, and noticed he was a vindictive-jawed guy with a gamey appearance. He brought us a new bottle cf wine—and say! he must have been a veterinary to mix those slumber-getters, for I went out so fast made a buzzing noise.
“I awoke next morning in a big, bare bedroom with the sun streaming in through curtainless windows. Lewis was wrapped in a sheet, hunting our clothes.
“'They're not here,' says he, 'and the door's locked!'
“We yelled and pounded and swore, without raising an echo, and that afternoon somebody opened the door a few inches and set a bowl on the floor. It had Irish stew in it.
“Right there I gave up hope.
“Well, we stayed in bed and ate 'Mulligan' for four days, till we hated each other; then late one night somebody woke us up.
“'Sh!' he says, shaking us, 'is that youse, Lewis? This is Curley. I've been training here, an' I thought I reckon'ized youse through the winder. What's the matter?'
“We explained, and Curley brought us some clothes, going back by way of his ladder.
“'I got all my extry ones,' says he, 'an' some more from the chamber-maid. They'll have to do.'
“Do? I guess they would do. I'd been so long in the altogether I'd have worn a cocoa door-mat and felt proud.
“We caught the last car for the city, and when we got off I says to Lewis:
“'Pal, I'm sore on you.'
“'Nay, nay!' says he, 'there's room for naught but joy to-night.'
“'I'm disappointed,' says I. 'After giving you every show in the world, you couldn't make good.'
“'How so?'
“'Why, I've been wise from the start, laying for your graft in hopes I could assimilate something for my own advancement, but your work's heavy. It won't go. I've doped race horses on the Texas Panhandle, and thimble-rigged the walnuts on the Skagway trail, but your stuff wouldn't pass in Peru.'
“'Ha, ha!' says he, laughing hugely, 'what do you take me for?'
“'A bum crook, of course. I was 'hep' when you Marconied the girl on the train.'
“'Oh, Lord!' says he, disseminating sound waves till a cop tapped him on the shoulder, 'Ha, ha!'
“When the policeman got a look it him, he says, 'Why, hello, Mr. Lewis. Where in the world have you been, and where did you get those clothes? Your father's crazy, and the whole force is out. We thought you were lost. Let me ring up and notify your people.'
“When he'd gone, Lewis spoke.
“Miss Edgemore, our train friend.”
“No, I'm just a disappointingly honorable citizen, sacrificing twenty hours a day in the search for amusement. As to telegraphing the young lady, I know the code and sometimes practice unconsciously. Those girls ain't confederates of mine. They're artists—buck and wing—Altwine and Edgemore—one of the best teams on the circuit. Now let's get dressed and kind of dissect the town.'
“'No, sir! No municipal wrecking cruises for me,' says I, 'I'm for the hotel, to mail a letter. If you'll drop in to-morrow I'll exhibit a captive father-in-law. My deductions don't seem to work in this town. I don't like the place, and the diet ain't varied enough. We'd go out and get full, and somebody'd feed us some more mutton stew. To-morrow it's Westward Ho! with father in chains, for the wedding.'
“Lewis came up to the room about noon next day, and he was there when the bell-boy brought up a card. 'August Shortz,' it read. In stalks a thick-set, heavy-jawed man, neck deep in smiles, and I rose to meet my parent.
“'Ollie wrote me everything, and it's all right, my boy,' says he. Then he paused, not seeing well against the light.
“I heard Lewis strangle, and I disintegrated around the knees myself.
“That's about all, Kid. Sure! It was him—the road-house man.
“'Which is Mr. McCabe?' he continues, getting his latitude; then it struck him.
“Oh, you miserable rounder! You red and yellow variety actor!”
“'You!' he yells. 'Oh! ye miserable rounder. You red and yellow variety actor. Marry my—Ow-ow-ow,' and he exits 'ow—ing' clear down the elevator shaft.
“It's off with me, Kid. To-day I got a wire from Frisco: 'Oh, how I hate you! Ollie.' The old man called me an actor, too—that's the outside limit. I'm going back to the Klondyke.
“Did you ever hang out your washing on a winter day to freeze dry? It's the same with a human—the cold wrings out his deductions, and his knack of picking a winner. Six winters on the circle have kiln-dried the nerve out of me, and the debilitating environments of the Arctics have unfitted me for grappling with the strenuousness of Cupid. All I've got left is a thirst.”
This work is in the public domain in the United States because it was published before January 1, 1930.
The longest-living author of this work died in 1949, so this work is in the public domain in countries and areas where the copyright term is the author's life plus 75 years or less. This work may be in the public domain in countries and areas with longer native copyright terms that apply the rule of the shorter term to foreign works.
Public domainPublic domainfalsefalse