The Salt Lake herald. [volume] (Salt Lake City [Utah]) 1870-1909, 1908-05-31

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bors. And say. there's less money and
more excitement to that game than
anything else I've struck.
The way / got dragged into II was
like this: Just across the road from
: lay place is one of those swell big
ranches that hog the shore-front all the
way from Mott Haven up 10 the jump
in'-off place. From the outside all you
can see is iron gates and stone wall
and stretches Of green-plush lawn.
Way over behind the trees you can get
q squint at the chimney tops, and you
know that underneath is a little cot
tage about the size of the Grand Cen
trail station. That's the style you live
in when you've hit the stock market
right, or in case you've got TO be top
notch CRATER that the muckrakers
amt dug up yet.
I'd been wonderin' what kind of
folks hung out in there. but I'd never
seen any of 'em out front, only gar
deners KILN time, and coachmen ex-
ercisin' the horses. But one mornln l
gets a private view that was worth
Watchin' for.
The first thing on the program was
an old duffer dodgin' in and out
around the bushes and trees like he
was tryin' TO lose somebody. That got
me curious right away. and l begins to
pipe him off He was logged out in
white ducks. somethin' like a window
cook in a three-off joint, only he didn't
sport any apron. and his cap had gold
braid on it. His hair was white, too.
.and his under lip was decorated with
'one of them old-fashioned teasers-
just A little bunch of cotton that the
barber had SHE'D. He was a well-built
old boy. but his face had sort of a
sole-leather tint 10 it that didn't look
healthy.
From his motions l couldn't make
cut whether he was haVin' a game of
Acknowledgements, or was bein' chased
by a dog. The last thought seemed
more likely. so ! strOlls over TO the
stone wall and gets ready to hand out
a swift kick TO the kioodle in case 1t
was needed.
When he sees me the old gent begins
TO dodge liVelier than ever and make
signals with his hands. Well. l didn [
know his code. l couldn't guess wheth-
er he wanted me to run for club, OF
was tryin' TO keep me from buttln' in,
so l just stands there with my mouth
open and looks foolish.
Next thing l sees is a Wedge-faced.
long-legged guy comm across the lawn
on the jump. First off 1 thought he
was pushin' one of these sick-abed
chairs, like they use on the board walk
at Atlantic City. But as he gets nearer
] see il was a green wicker tea-wagOn
you know. I amt got TO the tea wag-
on stage myself. but I've seen 'em out
al Rockywold and them places. Handy
as a pocket in a shirt, they are. When
you've got company in the afternoon
the butler wheels the thing out on the
veranda and digs up a whole tea-mak-
in outfit from the inside. When it's
shut it looks a good deal like one Of
them laundry push carts they have in
Harlem.
Now, l amt in love with tea at any
time Of the day except Tor supp =, and
I sure would pass il up just after
breakfast; but 1 don't know as I'd
break my neck to get away from IT,
same's the old gent was dOin'. The
minute he gets look at the wagon
comm his way he does some lively
aside-steppin'. Then he jumps behind a
bush and hides. givin me the sign not
to let on.
The long-legged guy knew his bust
ness. though: for he came straight on,
like he was on trail of a scent and the
first thing old Whitley knows he's been
run down. So he gives in then, just
as if he'd been tagged.
Rabbit" says he, Il had you hull
down at one time, didn't ~
of breath, or else he wasn't the talka-
tive kind, for he never says a word,
but just opens up the top OF the cart
and proceeds to haul out some bottles
and a glass. First he spoons out some
white powder into tumbler Then ne
pours in some water and stirs ii with
a spoon. When the mess is done he
sticks it out TO the old gent. The old
one never lifts a finger, though.
salute, first. you fEozen-faCed scum
of the earth!" he yells. Salute, sir"
Rabbit makes stab at Salutin' too,
and mighty sudden.
Now, you white-livered imitation of
a man." says the old gent, you may
hand over that villainOus stuff! BAH"
and he takes a sniff of it.
Babbitt keeps his eyes glued on him
until the last drop was down, then he
jumped. Lucky he was quick on the
duck. for the glass just whizzed over
the top of his head. While he was
stowin' the things away the old fellow
let loose. Say, you talk about a Gus
SIM I'll bet you never heard string
like that. II wasn't the longshoreman' S
kind. But the way he put together
straight dictionary words was enough
TO give you a chill. II was the rattlin'
style he had of rippin' 'em out, too,
that made IL sound like swearin'. If
there was any part ONthat lOng-legged
guy that he didn't pay his respects to,
from his ears to his toe-nails, l didn't
notice il.
ITS the last time you get any of
that slush into me, Babbitti" says he.
do you hear that, you peanut-headed,
scissor-shanked whelp?"
'Ten-thirty's the next dose. Commo-
dore," says he as he starts off.
ut is, Ell, you wall-eyed deck swab?'
howls the Commodore. IF you mix
any more of that infant food for me
I'll skin you alive, and sew you up
hind side before. Do you hear that,
yOu?"
I was wearin' a broad grin when the
old Commodore turns around to me.
IF that fellow keeps this up" says
he. ''I shall lose my temper some day
Ever drink medicated milk. Ell? Ugh,
1t tastes the way burnt feathers smell
And I'm dosed with 1t eight times a
day! Mix But what makes me mad
Is TO have il ladled out 10 me by that
Iong-faced, fish-eyed food destroyer
whose only joy in life is to hunt me
down and gloat over my misery. Oh
I'll get square with him yet, sir; ]
swear 1 will"
II wish you luck" says l.
who are you, anyway says he.