The L'Anse sentinel. (L'Anse, L.S., Mich.) 18??-current, 1901-05-11
Barrett's whisper. Then he leaped
down the stairs.
"a sIs 4. n.

Barrett's whisper. Then he leaped
down the stairs.
"'I've got it! he whispered to the
come-on. Run upstairs now to Bar
rett, and I'll be back in n few minutes
with the dough-
thing went upstairs, while Fellows
took off down the street to the pool
room. The Iowa man seemed to be
in such n maze over the prospects
that he apparently forgot to inquire
of Barrett which horse had won, and,
anyhow, Barrett talked such n stream
that the come-on had no chance to
get in word. They shook hands and
had n drink, and about ten minutes
later Fellows came bounding in with
a triumphant expression on his face.
cit is like getting money from
your bank president PAL he ex-
claimed, throwing two five-hundred
| and two one-hundred bills in n roll
| on the table. rs it? And who'd ha'
thought that that bum FLY Tender
| ness would have beat Sebastian, and
"
have played Tenderness in a hundred
years. This is the only way to beat
em. / got five to one for. the 5000,
| and you two cop out $500 each the
| first rattle out of the box
"The Iowa mans countenance wore
broad grin as Barrett handed him
| one of the five-hundred and one of
| the one-hundred-dollar bills, remark
ing:
"'Well, what dye think of us?
Dye think we're good enough?'
"'Well, yes drawled the phony
countryman, as he stuffed the 5000 in
| his vest pocket. You're the yappiest
pair of tin horns that ever worked in
a paper box factory
''1he imitation countryman, as, he
spokea suddenly leaped back about
five feet, so that his shoulders
| touched the door, and the amazed
| and Disguised Barrett and Fellows,
with gaping mouths, observed that
they were under n gun about foot
long, which their transformed come
on was gently waving in his right
| hand.
YOU'RE the bulliest pair of bum
| selling platers that ever kicked the
mud in each others muzzles on
half-mile track. I'd like to meet
couple like you three times a day. l
was laying for you, and 1 got you.
If you'-addressing Barrett, whom he
fixed with his pale gray eyes-'will
take look at that hundred 1 handed
| you, you'll observe that it's as COM
mon a piece of bogus rag as was ever
turned out of fiber works. It's a
kind o. queer that l wouldn't try to
pass on blind melodeon player on n
dark street. could make better with
a carpener's pencil and IA piece o.
blotting paper.
Barrett had reached into his
pocket and pulled out the bill that
the man who had him under the gun
had given him, and was staring at it
| gloomily.
"I'm six hundred to the right
continued the tall, lanky man, and
thatll get me q shave and shine.
The next time you think you've nailed
mark, take the trouble to pipe off
the color of his dough, and you won't
get switched to n siding. That'll be
ALL
'The tall, lanky man, who hap
pened to be Jerry Rathbone, who'd
made his mark on two continents as
n queer-shover, Lacked out of the
door after removing the key, locked
the door when he got outside, and
Barrett and Fellows sat and stared
at each other while they listened to
his retreating footballs die away on
the stairs. 1t took them half an hour
to kick the door down.
| "'It broke the old man heart said
Fellows, who told me the story while
l was taking him on little journey
year later. 1T cut him deep for a
fact. 1t wasn't the coping out of his
six hundred that scared him to the
bone, but it was the way it was done.
He got SOS he'd talk to himself about
| it while he was awake and in bed
he'd humble in his sleep about it. It
was that turning off that made the
poor old guy pull for the slope."-N.
Y. Sun.