The Kennewick courier-reporter. [volume] (Kennewick, Wash.) 1914-1938, 1926-04-01
Mu Fauorife Stories
Bq lRulN g. COBB
A Mistake in Identity

In the town where I was reared
there was combination barroOm and
lunchroom for colored only, known as
the Bleeding Heart saloon. II Stood
at the foot of a street near the head OF
the wharf and was q favorite rcsort
for river darkies. Among its regular
patrons was u brawny Individual. SIX
feet four inches long and corresponds
ingly broad, wii0 answered 10 the pet
name of Red Hoss Red Hoss posed
as IL bad man He lei on. MS the phrase
runs. that he was the underwriters best
friend To be sure there was no record
that he actually had ever destroyed
anyone, but he frequently promised TO
do so, and was rated as dangerous by
the resident colored populace.
One night the Cincinnati and New
Orleans packet on her way south land
ed at our town Among her deck pas
sengers was small yellow man. pro-
fessional prize fighter from up North.
On the journey down the river he had
introduced his own private set OF edu-
Gated worries into the crap game among
the roustabouts. with the result that he
now had all their money in his posses
sion.
Dapper, trim and slim, he climbed
the wharf and entered the Bleeding
Heart and called for jolt of sloe gin.
He was in the act of paying for the
drink with the top film of delectabiy
fat roll of green bills when the swing
ing doors were thrust violently asunder
and in stalked Red HOss, slightly intox-
icated and therefore doubly belligerent.
His lowering, bloOdshot eye swept the
interior, then focused with greedy
stare upon what the slender stranger
held in his hand.
Lurching slightly, he swagged up to
the bar and gripped huge soiled paw
on the lapel of the little yellow mans
coat
"Say lissun, pusson, he stated. "You
better turn dat bundle Of sOf' money
over to me, an 'en I'll give you back
whut part Of 1t l thinks you should
have fur y0'se'f."
''rWhO is you, may l ast?" inquired
the visiting nobleman in gentle ac-
cents.
'sYou better asst growled Red HOss.
.Finding out who is meks yo chances
fur Twin longer all de brighter eff you
aims to stay round desc parts. You
asts me who is, huh? Well, Use goin'
tell YOU Use de new town bully, tha's
who! Vas, sub; Use de official bully
Of dis town an wen strange niger
hits yere he mos gin'elly hands me
over whut spare change he's got an
tha's his life insho'ence. So"
He did not finish the sentence. Stupe-
faction and rage tied his tongue tenn
porarily as the audacious stripping with
q jaunty gesture brushed free Of the
OBTAINING clutch and turned to the bar
keeper, saying pleasantly:
mist Barkeeper, at shOrely wuz
very tasty gin. thinks I'll tex me ono
mo- slug outen de same bottle, eft You
please
Red Hoss recovered his faculties.
With berserker below he swung with
q huge fist for the little mans jaw.
The jaw was not there when the fist
whizzed past. The pugilist ducked,
and came up expertly with a short arm
jab which landed exactly on the point
Of Red Hoss' chin. There was a jar
as large inert body struck the floor.
Three minutes later Red HOss slowly
and dizzily reused himself. Some Good
Samaritan had restored him to con-
sciousness by sluicing bucket of wa
ter over him. Dripping and dazed. he
sat up, holding his aching head on with
both hands. The little man stood at
the bar blowing softly upon the
knuckles of his right hand and con-
versing with the barkeeper upon the
topics of the day.
Mister" quavered Red Hoss, "who
II you?"
"Me?'' said the stranger, "Oh, / ID
merely the pusson you thought you wuz
wen you come in yere."
Copyright by the Central Press Associatiou.)