_ CHAPTER XXIX. DEAD GAME SPORTS
AT the end of August, Mr. Skippy Bedelle met Mr. Snorky Green on the Fall River Boat, each being in complete agreement as to the economic superiority of the water route to the great metropolis, when the end in view was the acquisition of that radiant apotheosis of perfect manhood, the first dress suit.
"Gee Whilikins, Skippy, you're enormous," said Snorky, measuring him with his eye. "How did you do it? I've only gained half an inch."
"I'm twelve pounds heavier," said Skippy proudly. "Feel that."
"Hard as nails!" said Snorky, pinching the proffered biceps. "You do look different, too."
Skippy, thinking on Dolly Travers, blushed.
"Got to shave every other day now," he said hastily, to cover his confusion.
"Have a coffin nail?" said Snorky, feeling that a bold stroke was necessary to restore the balance.
"Dyin' for one," said Skippy, who disliked the practice cordially. He selected a cigarette, tapped it on his hand and rolled the rim on the tip of his tongue. "Not bad."
"Nice bouquet, eh?" said Snorky, who had listened in.
"What? You betcha! What's the monogram?"
"Uncle Ben. I swiped them," said Snorky, who was returning from a family visit. "Suppose we give the old tub the once over and see if there's anything worth looking at on board."
Skippy allowed the cigarette to hang pendant from his lower lip, tilted his Panama with the purple and white band, sank his hands in his pockets and imitated carefully the dead game sporting slouch of his companion as they proceeded on their critical inspection of the feminine offering on the decks.
"Rum bunch," said Snorky, who was putting it on for Skippy. "Little girl over there got nice eyes."
"Piano legs."
"What?"
"Piano legs. Big as a porpoise in five years," said Skippy, putting it on for Snorky.
"I daresay," said Snorky, who continued his efforts to impress his chum by staring down a large buxom lady who happened to glance their way. "Rather good-looking, the old fighting brunette over there."
"Seemed interested in you."
"Yes, rather," said Snorky, turning for a fatuous backward glance.
"What's this?" said Skippy, suddenly interested.
Ahead by the rail two young girls were watching curiously the vanishing outlines of the harbor.
"That's class," said Snorky instantly.
"You betcha!" said Skippy, noting the large leghorn hats dripping with rosebuds, the trim ruffled organdie dresses and the twin parasols, pink and mauve. The young ladies looked up curiously at their swaggering approach and then away. Skippy in his assiduous pursuit of fiction of the romantic tinge had often read of "velvety" eyes and pondered incredulously. For the first time in his life, suddenly, in the hazards of a crowded steamer, a young girl of irreproachable manners had looked at him and the eyes were undeniably "velvety." It troubled him. Not that he was susceptible to such a point, but it stirred memories of ancient readings into the night on soft window seats, or under green trees in the troubling warmth of spring days.
"The blonde for mine," said Snorky pompously.
"I didn't see her," said Skippy dreamily.
They linked arms and passed in the rakish, indolent manner of thorough men of the world who know that but to be seen is to conquer. To their discomfiture the young ladies failed to notice the extreme distinction of their manly appearance and shortly afterward left the deck.
"We failed to impress," said Skippy disconsolately.
"A lot you know about women."
"They never saw us."
"Huh! Betcha they were sneaking looks at us every time we passed. Just you wait. They'll be out in a jiffy."
"What'll we do?"
"Pretend we're not interested."
They stalked the deck ten times with a nonchalant, bored air, but slightly roving eyes.
"They're waiting inside," said Snorky obstinately.
"Well, you go and scout. I'll wait here," said Skippy, whose interest was only a determination not to be outshone by his chum of chums.
In ten minutes Snorky was back, all excitement.
"Just as I told you. They're in the front saloon playing cards. Come on."
"What are you going to do?" said Skippy, hesitating.
Snorky thought a moment.
"We've got to put over something big."
"Well, what?"
Snorky thought again.
"We must make 'em think we're high rollers;--yachts, race horses, and all that."
"Well, how?"
Snorky thought a third time.
"How much money have you got?" said Skippy suddenly.
"In cash?"
"Sure. On you."
"About forty-three dollars," said Snorky, who from time to time had been feeling with his fingers to assure himself that no pickpocket had outwitted him.
"Fork it out. I've got an idea."
"Is it all right?" said Snorky, who had reason to dread the Skippy imagination.
"Fine and dandy. Don't worry. Trust me. Show 'em up."
Snorky produced a twenty, two tens and three common-a-garden ones.
"You keep a twenty and you stick it on top. Then you change the two tens into ones and that makes some whopping wad, doesn't it?"
"Say, I don't get--"
"Leave it to me," said Skippy, who led the way to the cigar counter.
Ten minutes later Mr. Skippy Bedelle and Mr. Snorky Green, with large banded cigars, entered the ladies' saloon and carelessly installed themselves at a table next but one to that occupied by the young girls.
"Well, old sport," said Snorky, twirling the mercifully unsmoked cigar in his fingers. "Suppose we go over our accounts?"
"Always be businesslike," said Skippy, poising a pencil over a sheet of paper with plutocratic nonchalance.
"Owe you thirty-five plunks for last night's poker game," said Snorky, raising his voice sufficiently.
"That's right, and I owe--"
"Hold on, me first."
Snorky dug into his trousers and came up with a roll of greenbacks that made the colored porter who happened to be passing stumble in his step.
"Twenty and ten and five, makes thirty-five," he said, peeling them off with a nimble exhibition of legerdemain which kept the lower bills well concealed.
"Keerect," said Skippy, sweeping them towards him with a languidly indifferent air.
"Then I borrowed a ten spot to tip the head waiter. Remember?"
"I do remember."
"Five and five. Correct?"
"Keerect."
"How do we stand on the ponies?"
"Only fair," said Skippy. "We lost two and won one. I couldn't get our money up on the others."
"Let's see. It was twenty-five bones each, wasn't it?" said Snorky, jogging his elbow, to notify him that the impression they were making was simply stupendous.
"Right again."
"That sets me back fifty plunks. That's easy. Here you are, one, two, three, four, five tens. Correct?"
"Keerect," said Skippy, brushing in the greenbacks, with the same casual motion of his hand.
"That squares me."
"It does."
"Now what's coming back?"
Skippy in turn, after certain struggles with his trousers pocket, brought forth a bundle which could have done credit to a cattle king and said, as he slipped the elastic,
"Twenty-five at five to one is just about one hundred and twenty-five."
"That's all right, but how about the tip to Spike Murphy?"
"Spike Murphy?" said Skippy, looking at him hard.
"The fellow who put us wise."
"Oh, that's all right," said Skippy, recovering a proper sporting manner. "Forget that. I cleaned up enough to handle a little thing like that."
"Lucky dog!"
"One hundred and twenty-five," said Skippy, going through the proper motions. "Twenty once, twice, three times, four and five. One hundred, and ten and twenty and twenty--"
But at this moment, whether by chance, by intent or by the emotion caused by the display of such wealth, there was a crash from the nearby table and two magazines fell to the floor. Snorky, ever alert, sprang to his feet, retrieved the magazines and offered them to the blondest of the two with punctilious courtesy.
"Allow me. I believe these belong to you?"
"Oh thank you," said the young lady, looking quite distressed.
"Awfully warm night, isn't it?" said Snorky, whose heart was pumping at his own unexampled audacity.
"Sir, I do not think I have been introduced to you," said the young lady, stiffening and looking what to Snorky, at least, were daggers.
He uttered several unintelligible sounds, flushed a fiery red and backed away.
"Right where the chicken met the axe," said Skippy, who began to whistle a melancholy tune as he gathered up the scattered greenbacks. "Here comes mother."
"Let's beat it," said Snorky, who felt a sudden need for a purer atmosphere.
"You know women better than I do," said Skippy, who though a chum was human.
"Damn them all," said Snorky, peering over the railing into the night and exposing his forehead to the cooling breeze. "But why the devil did she lead me on?" _