The sun. [volume] (New York [N.Y.]) 1833-1916, 1906-10-07
CPLIT FINNEY AND
y THE CHICKEN MAN.
Fortune Smiles Unexpectedly on
the Cheap Field Tout at
the Racstraek.

step one night last week they all could see
thai he was there with something.
Come on In, you smokes, and have some
devillsd crabs and junk" said Split. not
A;rily, yet with a sort Of repressed glow
of tone. "The lids of for you yens, he
went on, pushing menu cards at them when
they'd ranged themselves about the table.
Go as far al you like, wet and dry
They ordered virtually everything on the
card. But even when the first round OF
Martins appeared they didn't ask any
questions. 1t was Splits to unravel, and
he was there with il when he got down to the
cherry.
First time I've got anything by falling
against a pickle since 70 Tambien was .
maiden he remarked. Generally when
you buckle up with a souse in the ring
it's a case Of having the Pinks stake you
to the long stare to see that you don't get
the dill's souper and pin.
But the bun that l walked into this
afternoon-say, you gums, order a couple o
tubs o. mushrooms to go with them steaks.
SOS to give the house a tone and flame IL
up some around here-this one was Paprika
Pete, right from the Cayenne coast, and
anybody that tries to put a copper on that
has got to show me the blue prints. At that,
ne OluU I KNOW W1cI1CT NO was Oh dOC
track or at a Grand Army encampment.
He had on just about Sl.S5 worth Of
clothes, counting the kicks, and he was
the only gum in the ring with a straw lid,
which got him the boot from all Of them
four-bit bettors hat club together with
each other and get an ace on something to
traipse third at rs to 1. But don't you
smudges think I'm kiddin' him. I'm not
Shana NTH that ufripn fhinO for uhAA
that's got the spine this one had.
He was a Brooklyn chicken dealer and
there were little wispy feathers sticking
all over his clothes, like as il he'd started
of on the souse right from the store. He
must nave made the start about four days
ago, at that
Il hadn't roped so much as a Hanover
Square barber on any one Of the first three
sprints, and l was there with a Crouch that
made me ache to infict pain upon some little
weakly person afflicted with hip disease.
But in clomping by one OF the stanchions
just after the third l saw something lying
on the concrete that had that right kind Of a
yallary look.
1T was all wadded up until it punched
like a beer label scraped wet of the kag, but
It's kind o. hard to hand me that April the
first thing when it comes to the looks Of
paper kale, and l knew that that wad was a
piece of il. So l was there with the quick
stoop to connect with it..
Il hadn't got more than half bent when
q shoe with q lot o'little pin feathers sticking
to it was pushed out by the somebody lean
ing against the stanchion, n the sole Of
the gummy shoe came down on the wad. l
looked up, and there was the pickle. He
had a wide, sweaty grin on his rummed
chart, and he was shaking his head real
pleasantly at me.
"'You don't want that un, pal, seein' as
it's tn last of the Mohawkers-Mushaways
what tells tn name o. them Injuns, any
way?' and he grabbed the stanchion with
his left hook and stopped over and picked
up the gummy yellow thing and spread it
out with his big freckled meat hooks.
Il came near going to the rug for the full
ten right then. 1t was one o. them century
securities, and look what had hold Of it'll
There was only one way Of getting q bite
out o. that, and that was to get this dill on
right if | could. Y'see, l had been hearing
about this True Wing thing from souper
snappers and rail pigeons for a month or so,
and it was in this sprint, and it looked like a
chance.
George says l to the souse. who stood
there against the iron thing with that @
ticket wrapped around his big thumb.
this is not the place for anybody to hang on.
without action. to so large a sum Of money
as that which you are now using as a poul-
tioe for your left thumb. The unearned
increment represented by that
Behave. YOU the dill cut in on me right
there. I dunno a raCehorse from a box o.
starch. All / know is chickens. I'm a
chicken man from Brooklyn. an I'm jes'
down here { top OF a toot. an
Chicken man-True Wingl Oh, no. hat
didn't sound good or nothin' to mel
George l blurts in right there. you
don't a to now anything about race
horses. Chicken'l do it, right here and
now. How'd you like to spank in just a
little cutting of that C-paper oil a sure
enough chicken horse named True Wing
that's going to cop this next race-off
in ten minutes-iust as sure as you're
ten days overdue on the calm with the
basket lid Of yours2 True Wingl That's
chickens enough for you. amt it2'
He not only looked Interested, he looked
excited, he looked like a red ant on a hot
rock, the first time l slipped him the name
Of that poultry skate, and when / spelled
Il TO him that that one was the mustard
and had the copsky chance of the field he
began to mop his warm map with his coat
sleeves.
Its the juice Of the Mandalay mango
/ kept on, to clinch it and not to lose him,
and il that amt the sweet sap, show me.
This True Wing thing is a flaming namingo
from the upper Orinoco, a frigate bird with
a non O. smokeless hexagonal po WIDER in
every quill, and IL he don't flap do wn to
the ~tapeovitch with his head resting in his
breast feathers. sound asleep and brooding
on tho
Hey, DO, thatTl do cut in the pickle
right there. 'Lemme start somethin'. I'm
there. Where is it?'
Il asked him where was what.
s"The place. was as far as he told me,
and then he braoed himself and made a
tack for the nearest book to the stanchion.
He made the bunch Uttered around the
book, and they held him up by his leaning
against 'em, and then he pitched forward
against the man on the stool, chubbed his
Elm hundred pape against the nan vest,
and painted:
Gimme that chicken boss fr this!'