by H. C. Witwer
CHAPTER VII
LIFE IS REEL!
The nation is bein' flooded these days with advertisements claimin'that any white man which works for less than forty thousand bucks ayear is a sucker. The best of 'em is wrote by a friend of mine, JoeHiggins, who gets all of twenty bucks every Saturday at six--one-thirtyin July, August and September.
The ads that Joe tears off deals with inventions. He shows that Edisonprob'ly wouldn't of made a nickel over a million, if he hadn'tdiscovered everything but America, and that Bell, Marconi, Fulton andthat gang, wouldn't of been any better known to-day than ham and eggs,if they hadn't used their brains for purposes of thinkin' and inventedsomethin'. There's fortunes which would make the Vanderbilts andAstors look like public charges, explains Joe, awaitin' the bird whichwill quit playin' Kelly pool some night and invent a new way to do_anything_.
The ad winds up with the important information that the people whichJoe works for is so close to the patent office gang that they could getFrench fried potatoes copyrighted. For the sum of "write forparticulars," they'll rush madly from Washington papers that'll protectany idea you got, before some snake-in-the-grass friend plies you withstrawberry sundaes and steals your secret. At the bottom of thisthere's a long list of things sadly needed by a sufferin' public, whichwill willin'ly shower their inventor with medals and money,--thingslike non-playable ukaleles, doctors which can guess what's the matterwith _you_ instead of your bankroll, grape fruit that won't hit backwhile you're eatin' it, non-refillable jails and so forth. All you gotto do is stake yourself to a couple of test tubes, a white apron and alaboratory, hire Edison, Marconi, Maxim and Hennery Ford asassistants--with the U. S. Mint in back of you in case expenses comeup--and you'll wake up some mornin' to find yourself the talk of FallRiver.
I been lookin' over these ads for a long time, but there's three namesI never seen on the list of famous inventors. They are to wit: the guythat discovered the only absolute cure for rheumatism, the one thatinvented the dope book on the female race and the bird that holds apatent on the complete understandin' of human nature. I guess thereason I never seen _their_ names is because the thing ain't reallybeen decided yet--there seems to be some difference of opinion. But ifyou wanna find out how many guys there are that swear they invented_all_ them things, look up the population of the world. The figures isexactly the same.
I ain't met nobody yet which didn't admit they had the only correctdope on women, rheumatism and human nature, but I'm still waitin' to beintroduced to the guy which really knows anything at all about _any_ of'em, when it gets right down to the box score!
The nearest I ever come to knowin' the original patentee to two of 'emwas Eddie Duke. Eddie is one of the best men in the movable picturegame, accordin' to everybody but himself. _He_ concedes he's _the_best. He's a little, aggressive guy which would of prob'ly been alightweight champion, for instance, if it hadn't been for his parents.They killed off his chances of makin' _big_ money, by slippin' him amedium dose of education when he was too young to fight back. Eddie'slike a million other guys I know, all Half-way Henrys, you might call'em. Too much brains to dig streets and not enough to own 'em!Unhappy mediums that always calls _somebody_ boss!
We're sittin' in Duke's office one mornin', when without evenknockin'--a remarkable thing for a movie star--in walks Edmund DeVronde. Edmund has caused more salesladies to take their pens in handthan any other actor in the world. His boudoir is hung with picturesof dames from eight to eighty and from Flatbush to Florida. If some of'em was actual reproductions, them dames was foolish for sellin'shirtwaists, believe me! Edmund is as beautiful as five hundred a weekand built like Jack Dempsey. Off the screen he's as rough and ready asa chorus man.
"Hello, Cutey!" says the Kid, who liked De Vronde and carbolic acid thesame way.
"I've come to ask a favor," says De Vronde.
"Well," Duke tells him, lightin' a cigarette and lookin' straight atthe end of it, "we ain't gonna pay for no more autographed photos, wewon't fire the press agent, you gotta finish this picture with MissHart and both them camera men that's shootin' this movie is high-classmechanics and stays! Outside of that, I'm open to reason."
"What I want will cost you nothing," says De Vronde. "Thatis--practically nothing. My dresser,--the silly idiot!--tendered mehis resignation this morning!"
"Well, what's all this gotta do with me?" he asks De Vronde. "I can'tbe bothered diggin' up valets to see that you got plenty of freshvanilla cold cream every morning and that they's ample talcum powder onthe chiffonier! I got--"
"I have already secured a man," interrupts De Vronde. "He happens tobe a--a--friend of mine. The poor fellow is desperately in need ofwork. He's in Denver at present, and I'd like to have him on as soonas possible. If we're to begin that big feature on Monday, I'm sure Ican't be bothered thinking about where this shirt and that cravat is,and just what color combinations will be best for my costume in thegypsy cave."
"That's right!" grins the Kid. "Figure for yourself what would happen,if Cutey forgot his mustache curler, for instance. The whole countrywould be, now, aghast, and he'd be a nervous wreck in five minutes!"
"So if you'll kindly telegraph the fare to this address," goes on DeVronde, ignorin' the Kid, "I'll be obliged."
With that he blows.
"And the tough part of it is," moans Duke, reachin' for a 'phone, "I'llhave to do just that! It'll cost about sixty bucks to import this birdhere and when he gets here, it's nothin' but another mouth to feed. IfI had half the nerve of that big stiff De Vronde, I'd take a Germanquartette over to London and make 'em sing the 'Wacht Am Rhein' infront of Buckin'ham Palace!"
"He claims this valet's a friend of his, too," says the Kid. "I'll bethe'll turn out to be another one of them sweet spirits of nitre boys,eh?"
"If he is," growls Duke, "it won't be two days before he'll be sick andtired of the movie game, you can bet two green certificates on that!"
A week later, me and the Kid is standin' near the entrance to Film Citytalkin' to Miss Vincent, when a young feller blows in through the gatesand walks up to us. He's one of them tall birds, as thin as a dime,and his clothes has been brushed right into the grain. When the lighthit him, I seen they was places where even the grain had quit. Hisshoes is so run over at the heels that they'd of fit nice and snug intoa car track and he'd just gone and shaved himself raw.
One good look and this bird checked up as a member in good standin' ofone of the oldest lodges in the world. They got a branch in everycity, and they was organized around the time that Adam and Eve quit theGarden of Eden for a steam-heated flat. The name of this order is "TheShabby Genteels."
But what transfixed the eye and held the attention, as we remark in theworkhouse, was this guy's face. I might say he had the mostinconsistent set of features I ever seen off the screen. He ain't athousand miles from bein' good-looking and his chin is well cut andsquare, like at one time he'd been willin' to hustle for his wants andfight for 'em once he got 'em, but that time ain't _now_! His eyes isthe tip-off. They don't look straight into yours when he talks--theliar's best bet!--or they don't look at the ground, but they stare offover your shoulder into the air, like he's seein' somethin' _you_can't, and it ain't pleasant to look at.
I've seen that look on beaten fighters, when the winner is settin'himself for the knockout, and I've seen it on the faces of other guys,when some smug-jowled judge has reached into their lives and took tenor twenty years as a deposit on what they'll do with the rest. It's alook you don't forget right away, take it from me!
Well, this feller that's walkin' up to us had that look. If a directorhad yelled "Register despair!" at him, he could of just looked naturaland they'd of thought he was another Mansfield.
And he's _young_! Get that?
"Pardon me!" he says, takin' off his hat. "Where can I find Mister DeVronde?"
The Kid puts his hand on his arm and swings him around,
"You'll pro'bly find him over behind
the Street Scene in Venice," hetells him. "If he ain't there, look around the Sahara Desert forhim--know him when you see him?"
The other guy looks at us for a minute like he thinks he's bein'kidded. Then he pulls a slow, tired grin.
"I think so," he says. "Thanks!"
When he walks away, I turns to Miss Vincent.
"That's prob'ly Cutey De Vronde's new guardeen," I says. "I guess he--"
"You and the Kaiser is the same kind of guessers!" butts in the Kid."He guessed we wouldn't scrap! If that guy we was just talkin' to is alady's maid for Cutey, I can sing like Caruso!"
"He doesn't look like a valet," says Miss Vincent, kinda doubtful.
"I don't blame him!" says the Kid. "And lemme tell you, he never gotthem muscles from brushin' clothes and buttonin' vests. I felt his armwhen I swung him around that time, and this guy is just about as softas the Rock of Gibraltar!"
"I can't understand," says Miss Vincent, "how a strong, healthy man canbe a valet--ugh!" she winds up, with a little shiver.
"That's easy," sneers the Kid. "A _man_ can't!"
Well, a man _did_! Gimme your ears, as the deaf guy said.
The next mornin' it turns out that I can guess like a rabbit can run.The new entry on the payroll borrehs a match from me, and durin' thetete-a-tete that folleyed, I find out that his name is John R. Adamsand, as far as the world in general and America in particular isconcerned, it could of been George Q. Mud. Durin' the lifetime oftwenty-nine years he's been on earth, he's tried his hand at everythingfrom bankin' to bartenderin', and so far the only thing he's been asuccess at is bein' a failure. At that he leads the league. And now,to top it all off, he's a valet for a movie hero!
"It's all a matter of luck!" he says, bitterly. "A man who tries thesedays is not an ambitious hustler, but a _pest_ to the powers above him!I defy a man to stand on his own feet and make good without influence.It's not _what_ do you know any more, but _who_ do you know! I've beena bookkeeper, a printer, a salesman, a chauffeur, a bank clerk, and,yes, even a chorus man. At every one of those things I gave the best Ihad in stock to get to the front. Did I get there? Not quite!" hethrows away the cigarette he's hardly had a puff of. "Why?" he asksme. "Because in every trade or profession there's somebody with halfthe sand and ability, who don't know the job's requirements but knowsthe boss's son! I'm not a quitter or I wouldn't be here, but I'm sickand disgusted with this thing called life and--"
"And that's why you never got nowhere!" breaks in a voice behindus--and there's Eddie Duke. Adams flushes up and starts away, butEddie pulls him back.
"Listen to me, young feller!" he says. "I happened to hear your moanjust now and your dope is all wrong. There ain't no such thing asluck; if there was, a blacksmith is the luckiest guy in the world andoughta make a million a minute, because he's handlin' nothin' buthorseshoes all day long, ain't he? Forget about that luck stuff!Makin' good is all in the way you look at it, anyways. A bricklayermakin' thirty bucks a week, raisin' a family and bringin' home his payevery Saturday night in his pocket instead of on his breath, is makin'good as big as J. P. Morgan is--d'ye get me? Yes, sir, that bird cansay he's got over! Makin' good is like religion, every other guy has adifferent idea of what it means, but there's many a feller swingin' apick that's makin' good just as much as the bird that owns theditch--in his own way! You claim a guy's got to know somebody thesedays to get over, eh? Well, you got that one right, I'll admit it!"
"Of course!" says Adams, brightenin' up. "That's my argument and--"
"That ain't no argument, that's a whine!" sneers Duke, cuttin' him offshort. "Listen to me--you bet you gotta know somebody to getanywheres, _you gotta know yourself_! That's all! Just lay offthinkin' how lucky the other guy is, and give Stephen X. You a minute'sattention. You may be the biggest guy in the world at _somethin'_, ifyou'll only check up on yourself and see what that somethin' is!Remember Whosthis says, 'Full many a rose is born to blush unseen--'Well, don't be one of them desert flowers; come into the city and let'em all watch you blush. Get me? How did you happen to meet this bigstiff De Vronde?"
Adams gets pale for a second and clears his throat.
"I'm working for him," he says slowly, like he's thinkin' over eachword before lettin' it go, "and I don't care to discuss him."
At just that minute, De Vronde, Miss Vincent, the Kid and another damecome rollin' up in Miss Vincent's twelve-cylinder garage-mechanic'sfriend. De Vronde hops out and walks over to us, wavin' his cane andfrownin'.
"Look here!" he bawls at Adams. "I thought I told you to be at theeast gate with my duster and goggles? You've kept me waiting half anhour, while you're gossiping around! Really, if you're going to startthis way, I shall have to get another man. Look sharp now, no excuses!"
The Kid winks at me, noddin' to Adams who's lookin' at De Vronde with avery peculiar gaze. I couldn't quite get what he's registerin'. MissVincent looks interested and sits up. The other dame opens the door ofthe car and stands on the runnin' board.
"Here's where the fair Edmund gets his and gets it good!" hisses Dukein my ear, lookin' at Adams.
"I'm very sorry," says Adams, suddenly. "I should have remembered."
And without another word or look, he exits.
"Yellah!" snorts the Kid.
"No spine!" sneers Miss Vincent.
"Nick-looking boy--who is he?" asks the other dame, lookin' after him.
Duke slaps his hands together all of a sudden and gazes at her like aguy gettin' his first flash at his hour-old son. Then he looks afterAdams, grins and claps his hands again.
"Who is he?" repeats the dame.
De Vronde sneers.
"Really," he says, "your interest is surprising. That fellow is my--"
"Shut up!" roars Duke, springin' to the runnin'-board. "Here!" he goeson, talkin' fast. "I'm gonna shoot them two interiors in half a hour,so you better call this joy ride off!" He turns to the strange dameand speaks very polite, "Miss Vincent will show you everything; if youwant anything, just 'phone the office."
When they're gone, Duke turns to me and grins.
"I often heard you say you made Scanlan welterweight champ," he says,"by _pickin'_ the guys he was to fight till he got where he could lick'em _all_. Well, I'm gonna do the same thing for our friend MisterJack Adams, valet for Edmund De Vronde, the salesladies' joy. I'mgoin' in that boy's corner from this day on, and, when I get through,he'll be a champ!"
"What?" I says. "Train a guy like that for the ring? Why--"
"I see you don't make me," he interrupts, "which is just as well,because you'd be liable to ball the whole thing up, if you did. Thiskid Adams has got symptoms of bein' a he-man in his face. He's hit thebumps good and hard and right now he's down, takin' a long count. Nowwhether he needs to be helped or kicked to his feet, I don't know, butI'm the baby that's gonna stand him up!"
"Well," I tells him, "go to it! But the thing I can't figure, is whatd'you care if he gets over or not--who pays _you_ off on it?"
He looks me over for a minute, registerin' deep thought.
"I'm gonna give you the works!" he says finally. "And if you evermention a word of this to anybody, they'll have to identify your bodyafterwards by that green vest you got!"
"Rockefeller's three dollars short of havin' enough money to make metell!" I says.
"Fair enough!" says Duke. "Did you notice that strange dame which waswith Miss Vincent in the car just now?"
"The blonde that would of made Marc Anthony throw away Cleopatra's'phone number?" I asks. "Yeh--I noticed her. Easily that!"
"Well," he says, "this dame, which was such a knockout to you, is MissDorothy Devine. When her father died last year, she become a orphan."
"Well, that's tough," I says. "Me and the Kid will kick in with anyamount in reason and--"
"Halt!" said Eddie. "Her dear old father only left her a pittance offifty thousand a year and two-thirds control of the company we're allworkin' for out here. Now beside
s bein' several jumps ahead of theaverage dame in looks, Dorothy is a few centuries ahead of the moviesin ideas. She claims we're all wrong, and she's gonna revolutionizethe watch-'em-move photo industry. That's what she's here for now!"
"Well," I says after a bit, "what d'ye expect _me_ to do--bust outcryin'?"
"Not yet!" he says. "I'll tell you when. Accordin' to Dorothy, allthe pictures we put out are rotten. Our heroes and villains areplucked alive from dime novels and is everything but true to life. Ourheroines belong in fairy tales and oughta be let stay there. _She_claims that no beautiful girl with more money than the U. S. Mint wouldfall for the handsome lumberjack, and that no guy who couldn't donothin' better than punch cows would become boss of the ranch throughlove of the owner's daughter. All that stuff's the bunk, she says.Her dope is that a real man would boost himself to the top, girl or nogirl, and the woman never lived which could put a man over, if hedidn't have the pep himself. As a finish, she tells me that nohealthy, intelligent girl would stand for the typical movie hero. Abird which would go out and ride roughshod over all the villains likethey do in the films would nauseate her, she says, and we have no rightto encourage this bunk by feedin' it to an innocent public!"
"Eddie," I says, "she ain't a mile off the track, at that! This--"
"Oh, she ain't, eh?" he snarls. "Well that shows that you and herknows as much about human nature as I do about makin' a watch! MissDevine wants us to put on a movie that she committed herself, and, ifwe do, we'll be the laughin' stock of the world and Big Bend. It's goteverything in it but a hero, a heroine, a villain, action and loveinterest. It's about as hot as one of them educational thrillers like'Natives Makin' Panama Hats in Peoria' would be. A couple of thesewould put the company on the blink, and I lose a ten-year contract atample money a year!"
"Well," I says, "what are you gonna do--quit?"
"Your mind must be as clean as a baby's," he says, "because you gotyour first time to use it! No, I ain't gonna quit! I'm gonna showMiss Dorothy Devine that as a judge of movin' pictures, she's aswell-lookin' girl. I like these tough games, a guy feels so good allover when he wins 'em. She's startin' with all the cards--money, looksand, what counts more, she's just about the Big Boss here now. All Igot is one good card and that's only a jack--Jack Adams, to beexact--and I'm gonna beat her with him!"
"I'll fall!" I says. "How?"
"Well," he tells me, "my argument is that all these thrillers we put onare sad, weary and slow compared to some of the things that happen inreal life every day that we never hear about. They's many a telephonegirl, for instance, makin' a man outa a millionaire's no-good son andmany a sure-enough heiress bein' responsible for the first mate on awhaler becomin' her kind and a director in the firm! I claim it does_good_ and not harm, to feed this stuff to a trustin' public by way ofthe screen. Why? Because every shippin'-clerk that's sittin' out infront puts himself in the hero's place and every salesgirl dreams thatshe's the heroine. Without thinkin', they both get to pickin' up thevirtues we pin on our stars, and it can't _help_ but do 'em good! Idon't know who started the shimmy, but I know women and I know humannature, and knowin' 'em both, I'm gonna make a sportin' proposition toMiss Dorothy Devine!"
"What's the bet?" I says. "I may take some of it myself."
"The bet is this," he tells me. "Here's this boy Adams, who, bein' DeVronde's valet, is undisputed low man in Film City. He's disgustedwith life, he ain't got the ambition of a sleepin' alligator, or nerveenough to speak harshly to _himself_. All right! If Miss Devine willfollow my orders for a couple of weeks without Adams knowin' who orwhat she is, I claim that bird will make good! All that guy needs is areason for tryin', and she can make herself it!"
"You don't expect a dame like that to make love to a guy that cleans DeVronde's shoes, do you?" I asks him.
"You must of been a terrible trial to teacher when you went to school!"he snorts. "No!--I don't want her to make love to him. I want toprove to her that the things we put in the movies is happenin' all thetime in real life, only more so! I want her to make Adams _feel_ justhow far back he's gone. I want her to cut him dead, because he's avalet, and let him know that's the reason. Then nature and him will dothe rest, or I'll pay off! Who put Adam over? Eve! All right, I'mgonna wind this thing up and let it go. I'll take the best scenes fromthe last six pictures we put out, and make Adams and Miss Devine play'em out, without either of 'em knowin' it. They oughta be a villain,and I'm shy one just now, but I'll lay six to five that one will turnup!"
"Look here!" I says. "Suppose Miss Devine should fall for this Adamsguy for _real_! Did you ever figure that?"
"Yes!" he snorts. "And suppose the Pacific Ocean is made outa rootbeer!"
I guess Miss Devine must of been a sport, because Duke starts hisstunts off the next day. She promised to give Adams a month to showsigns of life and to do exactly as Duke tells her. Adams ain't to betold a thing about it, and Miss Devine giggles herself sick over howshe's gonna show Duke the difference between real life and the movies.They put up a thousand bucks apiece.
The first action come off when Miss Devine and Adams meets in the"Sahara Desert" set.
"Good morning!" pipes Adams, bowin' and raisin' his hat.
"I beg your pardon!" comes back Miss. Devine, drawin' herself up andpresentin' him with a glance that's colder than a dollar's worth of ice.
"I--I--said good morning!" stammers Adams, kinda flustered.
"You have made a mistake, my man!" she says, each word bein' abouttwenty below zero. "A mistake I shall report to your master. I--"
"But--," begins Adams, gettin' red. "You--"
"That will do!" she cuts him off. "I'm not in the habit of arguingwith servants. You may go!"
Sweet cookie!
The poor kid looks like he'd stopped one with his chin and for thefirst time since I'd seen him, he straightens up with his hard, whiteface fairly quiverin'. I thought he was ready for a peach of acome-back, but he fooled me. He walks off without a word.
Miss Devine laughs like a kid with a new rattle and snaps her fingersafter him.
The next day, Duke is directin' a scene in a big thriller they'reputtin' on and Miss Devine is appearin' in it as a super at his orders.She's wearin' enough jewels to free Ireland and she looked better than1912 would look to Germany. Adams is standin' on one side with hisarms full of De Vronde's different changes.
Duke looks at Miss Devine for a minute and then raises his voice.
"Say--you!" he bawls at her. "What's the matter, can't you hear? Youmade that exit wrong four times runnin', d'ye think we get this filmfor nothin'? What d'ye mean by comin' here and ruinin' this scene onme, eh? You wanna be a movie star, they tell me--well, you got thesame chance that I have of bein' made Sultan of Turkey! If you canact, I'm King of Shantung! Why--"
Miss Devine gasps and looks more than ever like a rose, by turnin' adeep and becomin' shade of red. Nobody pays any attention to thething. They'd all heard it a million times before, when Duke wasrehearsin' supers.
Nobody but Adams!
He drops all of De Vronde's clothes right on the floor, and I thoughtthe fair Edmund would faint away dead! Adams walks right through thecamera men up to Duke and swings him around while he's still bawlin'out Miss Devine.
"That's enough!" he snarls, white to the ears. "One more word to thislady, and I'll knock you down! You hound--you wouldn't dare use thatlanguage to a man!"
Duke's eyes sparkle, but he looks Adams over coolly and sneers.
"Curse you, Jack Dalton!" he says. "Unhand that woman, or you shallfeel my power, eh?" He sticks his chin close to Adams's face. "Takethe air!" he growls. "Where d'ye get that leadin' man stuff? If I seeyou around here any more this afternoon, I'll fire you and you'll walkhome for all the money you'll draw from this man's firm. Now, beat it!"
Adams hesitates a minute, and then he looks like on second thought he'sscared at what he's done. He mumbles somethin' and walks right outathe pi
cture, nor even turnin' when De Vronde squawks at him for walkin'over his silk duster which he'd throwed on the floor.
"That's all for now, ladies and gentlemen!" pipes Duke suddenly,turnin' to the bunch. "I'll shoot the rest of this to-morrow."
They all blow out except Miss Devine. Duke looks at her, rubbin' hishands together and grinnin'.
"All right!" she smiles back. "First honors! What will I do next?"
She didn't have to do nothin' next! The thing that Duke had startedgot away from him and Adams led all the tricks from then to the finish.Duke told me afterwards he felt like a guy which has lit a match onLower Broadway and seen the Woolworth Buildin' go up in flames!
The very next afternoon, Mister Jack Adams becomes a star. Yes, sir!
A gang of supers is hangin' around the general offices waitin' fortheir pay. De Vronde and Miss Devine is sittin' at a cute little tableunder a tree drinkin' lemonade, and Adams is standin' with the supers,watchin'--Miss Devine.
"Look at that big stiff tryin' to make the dame!" pipes one of theextrys, a big husky grabbed up off the wharves in Frisco. He points atDe Vronde. "If I was built like he is, I'd eat arsenic!"
Adams walks over to him.
"Why?" he says, very cool and hard.
"Heh?" says the super. "Why, look at 'im. Lookit the lace shirt he'swearin' and them pink socks. Why--"
"Shut up!" snarls Adams. "I know your kind--you think because a manbathes, shaves, speaks English and wears clean linen, that there'ssomething wrong with him! You roughnecks resent the--"
"Well, I'd hate to be the family that brung that up!" interrupts thesuper. "Gawd! It makes a man sick to look at 'im!"
It all happened so quick that even Miss Devine and De Vronde didn't getit. They's just a sudden swish--a crack of bone meetin' bone, and thebig super is flat on his ear! The rest of the gang mills around,shoutin' and yellin', and Adams prods the super with the toe of hisshoe. I see Duke runnin' over with a couple of camera men which is soexcited they've even brought their machines along.
"Listen!" spits out Adams, bendin' over the fallen gladiator. "Don'tmake any more remarks like that about--about Mister De Vronde, whileI'm in this camp! If you do, I'll hammer you to mush! If you don'tbelieve that, get up now and I'll illustrate it!"
The super plays dead, and Adams turns away.
By this time, Miss Devine and De Vronde, on the outskirts of the mob,has seen some of it.
"Really," says De Vronde, frowning "you'll have to stop this brawling,Adams! I can't have my man--"
Adams gives him the up and down.
"Aw, shut up!" he snarls--and blows.
Well, right now I'm a million miles up in the air and no moreinterested in the thing than the bartenders was in final returns of theprohibition vote. They's two things I can't figure at all. One of 'emis why Adams should knock a man kickin' for roastin' De Vronde, whodidn't have a friend in the place, and the other is what Duke and themcamera men is doin' there.
About a week blows by, and then Miss Devine rides out alone one mornin'on a big white stallion. In a hour the horse trots into camp with thesaddle empty. For the next twenty minutes they's more excitement inand about Film City than they was at the burnin' of Rome, but whileDuke is gettin' up searchin' parties, Adams has cranked up MissDevine's roadster and is a speck of dust goin' towards Frisco.
It was around five o'clock that afternoon, when he comes back and MissDevine is sittin' beside him. Her ankle is all bound up withhandkerchiefs and Adams is drivin' very slow and careful. He stops andthen turns to help her outa the car, but she dodges his arm, steps downall by herself and without any sign of a limp, walks into the generaloffices.
Adams stands lookin' after her for a minute, kinda stunned.
"What was the matter?" I asks him, runnin' up.
"Why," he says, without lookin' at me; "she broke--she said she brokeher ankle. She--"
Then he turns and runs the car into the garage.
The next mornin' he quits!
Duke broke the news, comin' over to Miss Devine, while I'm tellin' herhow Kid Scanlan clouted his way up to the title.
"Well, Miss Devine," he growls, "I guess you win! Adams has left FilmCity flat on its back. I thought that bird had the stuff in him, but Iguess you saw deeper than I did!"
"I guess I did!" says Miss Devine kinda slow. "I knew he'd never stay."
Duke clears his throat a coupla times, blows his nose and wipes hisforehead with a silk handkerchief--his only dissipation.
"And now I got a confession to make," he says, throwin' back hisshoulders like he's bracin' himself for a punch. "Ever since the day Iplayed you against Adams, I been takin' a movie of you and him. Everytime you was together they was a camera man--and a good one--in theoffin'. You didn't know it and neither did Adams, but the result is apeach of a movie that'll make us a lot of money, if you'll let merelease it. All I need is a couple more close-ups and--"
Miss Devine has been listenin' like she was in a trance. She turnedmore colors than they is in the flag, and, lemme tell you, they allbecome her!
"You--you--made a picture out of our--out of--me?" she gasps.
Whatever else Eddie Duke is, he's game.
"Yeh!" he nods. "And wait till you see it--it's great! Why, you gotPickford lookin' like a amateur, and Adams will be a riot with thegirls the minute this movie's released! I wanted to prove to you thatthe movies ain't got a thing on real life, and I did! Why Adams cansign a contract with me any time he wants. That's makin' good, ain'tit? From valet to movie star in five reels--and who put him over?_You_!!!"
Before Miss Devine can say anything, we hear voices behind us. We'restandin' by a high hedge that had been set up for a picture thatmornin', and it was Miss Devine that motioned us to keep quiet. Thevoices on the other side are Adams and De Vronde.
"I've done my share!" De Vronde is sayin'. "I've been sending home--"
"Eighty dollars a month!" cuts in Adams, in that new, cold voice ofhis. "Eighty dollars a month to your father and mother, and you'remaking a thousand a week. Eighty dollars a month, and you pay ahundred and fifty for a suit! It's hard for me to call you a brotherof mine! Do you know why I whipped that bum the other day? For whathe said about you? No! Because I didn't want it thought that thewhole family was as yellow as you are! But I'm going to make you game.You're going to turn what money you've hoarded over to Dad."
We're all lookin' at each other--dumb-founded! Even Duke is pale andpop-eyed.
"By the Eternal, Miss Devine," he whispers in her ear. "I swear Ididn't know _that_! It don't happen in real life, eh? _Brothers_--bythe dust of Methuselah!"
De Vronde is speakin', and we bend to listen.
"I can't!" he chokes out. "Why, I'll--"
We hear Adams snort.
"Stop!" he says. "You can make more money than I can and make Ma andDad comfortable for the rest of their days. I'm going--"
"About that girl--that Miss Devine," De Vronde breaks in, his voiceshaking "It's only right that you should know. She's made an ass ofyou--she and that Duke person! You've been followed about andeverything you've done has been recorded by a camera. She had noaccident the other day--her ankle wasn't hurt--the horse was sent backwith the empty saddle deliberately--they photographed that, too! Theyhad a silly bet of some sort and--"
Miss Devine steps deliberately right around the side of the hedgealmost into Adams's arms. He's white and lookin' much like he did thefirst day he blowed into Film City. The minute he sees her hestraightens up.
"How long have you been here?" he clips out.
"I've heard--everything!" she says, lookin' him right in the eye.
Adams runs his hand through his hair, and pulls a look that wentthrough me to the bone. I don't know how it hit Miss Devine.
"And all of this--this--your attitude toward me--the accident--wasplayed to make a picture?" he says.
"Yes!" says Miss Devine. "All except _this_!" And I hope I never
seeanother movie, if both her arms didn't go around his neck--right outloud in public, too! "All except _this_!" she repeats. "And, oh,Jack--this is _real_!!"
"I win a thousand bucks!" pants Duke, draggin' me away--De Vronde blewthe minute she appeared on the scene--"I win a thousand bucks!" hesays. "And the picture is gonna be a riot! If they was only a goodcamera man here now for that close up at the finish, eh? Still--Iguess that would be too raw!" He looks back where Adams and MissDevine is posin' for a picture of still life. "And she said this lovestuff was the bunk!" he hollers. "Oh, boy!!!!"
CHAPTER VIII
HOSPITAL STUFF
Every time I see a thermometer, a watch, and a egg my temperatureaviates to about a hundred and ninety-eight in the shade--and if they'snobody lookin' I bust 'em! I spent two months and eight hundred buckswith that layout once and, oh, lady!--Say! The next time I feel avacation comin' on, I'm goin' to Russia and holler, "Hooray for theCzar!"
I just been Red-Crossed to within a inch of my life and I'm off that"take-two-once-every-twice, and don't-eat-any-this-or-drink-any-that"stuff! The right cross and the double cross has been little pals ofmine for years, and I once got throwed out of school for pullin' that"How to make a maltese cross" thing, but the _red_ one was all new tome up to last month.
They call me a glutton for punishment, but I got--enough!
I can't go in a drug store no more, because the sight of theprescription bar in the rear affects me like strong drink and I evenhad to lay off peas, because they look like pills.
All the food I got durin' the time I become a victim of the Red Crosscould have been carried over the Rocky Mountains by a lame ant, and Igot a hole in my wrist that can be used as a ash tray from doctorsgrabbin' it to give my pulse early mornin' workouts and clockin' itover the full course. I was allowed two kinds of milk to drink--hotand cold. The only thing I could get to read was wrote to order on thepremises and was all on the same subject, "Shake well before using!"
The whole thing was brought on by two words and Genaro, which wasputtin' on this five-reel barbecue called "How Kid Scanlan Won theTitle," and take it from me, if the Kid had pulled off in Manhattansome of the stunts he did in that picture, he would have won more thanthe welterweight title--he'd have won the oil business from Rockefellerthe first night!
The two words was "Don't jump!" and Genaro _didn't_ say 'em--if he had,the Kid would never have dove off a cliff and sprained hismillion-dollar left arm, which triflin' detail caused _me_ to get mymail at a hospital for two months.
It was in the third reel of this picture, which I see by the billboardsis liable to thrill the nation, that the thing happened. The Kid issupposed to jump off a cliff to fool the plotters which is tryin' tostop him from winnin' the title. They had picked out two of themcliffs--one of 'em was a drop of three feet and the other was a drop oftwenty-one miles, accordin' to Scanlan, who made it and ought to know.Anyhow, it was far enough! They was gonna show a close-up of the highone first and then take a flash of Scanlan leapin' from the little one.The Kid walks to the edge of that high one, looks down and somefat-head camera man points a machine at him and starts turnin' thecrank. Genaro was to wave his handkerchief as a signal for the Kid todive off the _little_ cliff and Scanlan, kinda puzzled, watches him.Just as he's walkin' away from the edge, Genaro blows his nose! TheKid sees the camera man and the handkerchief, and not wantin' to actyellah before the bunch, he--jumps!
A lot of excitement was had by all and Scanlan sprained his arm.
"Ah!" yells Genaro. "She'sa make the greata scene! What you thinkthisa Meester Scanlan he'sa joomp off wan mountain for art? That'sareal arteeste! He'sa killa himself for maka picture for Genaro! Ah--Iembrace heem!"
Miss Vincent begins by faintin'. Then she comes to, throws a rock at acamera man which is takin' a close up of her unconscious, kneels at theKid's side and kisses him right out loud before everybody. She claims,if he proves to be dead, she'll leave the company flat and have Genarotried for murder before a judge which had been tryin' for two years todo somethin' for her. They finally carried the Kid up to the hotel,and sent for a doctor which was recommended by Eddie Duke. Accordin'to Eddie, this friend of his had the average doctor lookin' like a drugclerk. Pluckin' people from the grave was his specialty, says Eddie.
I guess they had to wait till this graverobber graduated from college,because it was over a hour before he showed up. He gets out of a buggythat was all the rage about the time Washington was thinkin' of goin'in the army, and the animal that was draggin' it along had been a totalfailure at tryin' to be a horse. The doc wasn't a day overseventy-five and he was dressed in a hat that must have come with thebuggy, a pair of shoes like grandpa used to wear to work and a set ofwhite whiskers. If he had any clothes on, I didn't see 'em. All Iseen was them whiskers! I figured, if he had plucked people from thegrave, like Eddie Duke claimed, he must have did it after they was dead.
He didn't look very encouragin' to me, but I led him upstairs and intothe room where Scanlan was just comin' to and askin' what round it was.Eddie Duke and Miss Vincent was at his bedside, and the rest of thegang was outside the door arguyin' over which was the best undertakerin Frisco. I slipped away to a telephone booth and called upinformation.
"Gimme the best doctor in California!" I says, flickin' a jitney in theslot.
"For a nickel?" giggles the dame on the other end.
"Stop it!" I says. "I got a man here that's liable to croak anyminute--this ain't no time for comedy! Ah--what time do you get off?"
"I never go out with strangers," she says, "but you got a nice voice atthat. Where is your friend doin' his sufferin' at?"
"Film City!" I tells her. "And my voice ain't got nothin' on yours. Idon't want to give you no short answer, but can I get the doctor now?"
"I got him waitin'," she says. "If I was you, I wouldn't let 'em fillyour friend full of dope; fresh air and sunshine's got the druggistbeat eighty ways! Good-by, Cutey--gimme a ring after the funeral!"
"This is the Hillcrest Sanitarium," pipes another voice over the wire,very sedate and dignified.
"And this is Johnny Green," I comes back, "manager of Kid Scanlan, thewelterweight champ. We've throwed you people a lot of trade. Only ashort while ago Scanlan flattened Young Hogan in two rounds, and Hoganwas took there from the ring, remember? Well, I want the boss doctorthere sent to Film City right away!"
With that begins a argument that went about fifteen minutes, and whichI finally win by a shade. It seems it wasn't the regular thing for thehead doctor there to answer night bells and so forth, like a ordinarymedico, and the goin' was rather tough for awhile. Three or fourtimes, when I was ready to quit, this telephone dame, which was takin'it all in with both ears, cut in with advice and helpful hints till theguy on the other end had enough and says he'll come.
The first thing that met my eye, when I got back to the Kid, was EddieDuke's friend, the greatest doctor in the world. He was walkin' veryfast away from the hotel and mutterin' to himself. I just had time tograb his arm, as he jumps in the buggy and reaches for the whip.
"Will he live, doc?" I asks him.
"Bah!" he snorts, jerkin' away from me. "The ignorant little pup!"
He whales Old Dobbin with the whip and leaves me flat.
I couldn't figure out what the Kid's education had to do with hishealth, so I beats it upstairs and all but fell over Eddie Duke. He'sholdin' one eye and mumblin' somethin' about "roughnecks" and"ingratitude." I kept on through the crowd and into the Kid's room.Scanlan is still on the bed groanin', and beside him is the hotelclerk, thumbin' a almanac.
"Wait!" pants the clerk, as I come in. "I'll have it in a second." Heturns over a lot more pages and then he hollers, "Ah! Here weare--what did I tell you? 'First Aid to the Injured.'" He clears histhroat and the Kid looks up hopefully. "Number one," reads the clerk."_'First send for a physician!'_" He drops the book and dashes for thedoor. "Don't do nothing till I get back!" he yells.
"I wish I had a gun!" he snarls. "That big boob has been here fifteenminutes tellin' me all he was gonna do for me as soon as he found it inthe book! He--"
"Didn't the doctor do no good?" I butts in, sittin' on the side of thebed.
"Doctor?" says the Kid. "What doctor?"
"Eddie Duke's friend," I tells him. "The old--"
Scanlan leans up on his good arm.
"Listen, Johnny!" he says. "I still got a wallop in my right! Don'tkid me now or--"
"What d'ye mean kid you?" I asks him. "Didn't the doctor--"
"Doctor!" he interrupts me, slammin' down the pillow. "If that guy wasa doctor, I'm Caruso! He comes in here where I'm practically dyin' andtries to sell me a book!"
"Gimme it all!" I gasps.
"He sits down at the bed," explains the Kid, "and takes a big, blackbook out of what I figured was his medicine chest. He holds it up andasks me if I see it and I says I did, thinkin' I had passed the firsttest easy. Then he says he wrote the book himself and it's full ofhope and cheer or dope and beer--to tell you the truth, I don't knowwhich it was on account of the pain. Anyhow, I let him get away withit, and he tells me to think of how lucky I actually am alongside ofthe Crown's Prince of Germany--and then he begins to read from thatbook! It seems it's a novel about faith bein' stronger than pain. Bythis time, I seen that he was either nutty or tryin' to kid me, so Icut him off by askin' him when he's gonna fix up my arm. He says he'sdoin' it now, and when he gets through, he'll leave the book which willbe a total of twenty-five bucks. When I come to, I ask him how long hehad been a doctor, and he gets sore and claims he's a healer of theMystic Sliders or somethin' like that, and what do I mean by callin'him a doctor? Then I called him a few other things so's he wouldn'thave no kick comin' and gave him the bum's rush out of the room. EddieDuke starts to moan about me maulin' his friend, and--well, get him toshow you his eye!"
The door opens suddenly and Miss Vincent sticks the curls which all theshop girls is copyin' around the side of it.
"It's the doctor!" she whispers.
"Say!" pipes the Kid, grabbin' a pillow. "That old guy is game, eh?"
"A fightin' fool!" I agrees.
But this time a tall, solemn-lookin' guy breezes into the room andstares at me and the Kid with the same warm friendliness that amotorcycle cop regards a boob tryin' out a new auto. I figured he wasthe bird I had ordered by 'phone, and hit 1000 on the guess. He leansover the Kid, prods him around a bit, and then goes over him like hehad lost somethin' and thought maybe he'd find it there. Then hestraightens up and grunts.
"Hmph!" he says. "This man is a nervous wreck! Completely rundown--needs rest and diet. I have my car outside and can take him overto the sanitarium, if--are you a relative?"
"His manager," I explains. "How about the arm, doc?"
"Nothing!" he says. "Wrenched--that's all. Come--help him downstairs,I'll wait."
I took out a five-case note.
"What do we owe you, doc?" I asks him, hopin' for the best.
"My consultation fee is fifty dollars!" he says, without battin' an eye.
I staggered back against the bureau.
"Every time you see me it's gonna set me back fifty?" asks the Kid,with tears in his voice.
The doc gives him a cold nod.
"Couldn't I take some treatment by mail?" pipes Scanlan, hopefully.
"Cease!" I says, takin' out the old checkbook. "What's your name, doc?"
"James," he says, "J. T. James."
"What's the J stand for?" I asks, shakin' out the pen.
"Jesse!" butts in Scanlan. "Heh, doc?"
"Do you mean to insinuate that I'm robbing you?" says the doc, frownin'at him.
"No," says the Kid, takin' the check from me and handin' it to him, "Idon't blame a guy for tryin', but--"
I shut him off and dragged him downstairs before they was any hardfeelin's. We climbed in the doctor's bus and at the Kid's request,Miss Vincent come along with us. Then we went after the road recordbetween Film City and the Hillcrest Sanitarium. I guess this doctorwas born with a steerin' wheel in his hand, because we took somecorners on that trip that would have worried a snake, and when he threwher in high, we breezed along so swift we could have made a bulletquit. Finally, we come to a great big buildin' all hedged off with aniron fence and if you've ever seen a souvenir post card with "Havin' afine time. Wish you were here," on it, you know what it looked like.
The doctor tells me and Miss Vincent to wait in the office, and he goesout with the Kid. In about fifteen minutes he's back and calls me overto a desk. They's a long piece of paper there and he says to sit downand fill it out, but, after one flash at it, I asked him could I takeit home to work over, because my fountain pen was better on sprintsthan long distance writin' and this looked like a good two-hour job.He gives me another one of them North Pole stares and remarks that ifthe thing ain't filled out at once, the Kid won't be admitted to thesanitarium.
"He's in now, ain't he?" I comes back.
"Yes!" he snaps. "And he'll be out, if that paper isn't drawn upinstantly!"
Miss Vincent giggles and hisses in my ear.
"They say the child is in London!" she pipes. "Sign that paper, curseyou! We are in his power!"
Well, I seen I had to do a piece of writing so I grabbed up that paperand let the fountain pen go crazy. I give the Kid's entire name, wherehe was born, what his people did to fool the almshouse, what was hismother's maiden name and why, whether he went to church or BillySunday, was he white and could he prove it, who started the war and alot of bunk like that. The guy who doped out the entrance examinationsfor that hospital must have been figurin' on how many he could keep_out_. When I run out of ink, I took out a copy of the _Sportin'Annual_, tore off the Kid's record and pasted it at the bottom of thepage.
"How's that?" I asks, passin' it over.
"Very well," he says, glancin' at it. "Mister Scanlan is in room 45.That will be one-fifty--a hundred and fifty!"
"The price," I says, gettin' dizzy. "Not your weight!"
"That's the price," he tells me. "A hundred and fifty a week."
"I'm afraid the old bankroll is _too_ weak," I says,--"too weak forthat, anyhow. Drag the Kid out of that bridal suite and let him sleepin the hall. I'll--"
"Why, the idea!" butts in Miss Vincent. "You let him stay where he is,doctor. The money will be paid."
Before I could say anything, the door opens and in comes the dame thatposes for all the magazine covers, dressed like a nurse. I never wasmuch on describin'--I probably wouldn't have got ten people to watchthe battle of Gettysburg if I'd have been the press agent--but this wasthe kind of dame that all the wealthy patients fall in love with in themovies--yeh, and out of 'em! The little white cap on top of her headlooked like a dash of whipped cream on a peach sundae, and if youwouldn't have blowed up the city hall for the smile she sent around theroom, I feel sorry for you. She crosses over and, in passin' me, shebegs my pardon and threw that smile into high.
A hundred and fifty a week, eh? Well--I dives in my inside pocket.
"May I have your check, Mister--eh--ah--" pipes the doc.
"Green," I helps him out, "Johnny Green. Can you have a _check_? Yousaid it!" I sits down and writes one out.
"Why this is for three hundred dollars!" he busts out, lookin' at it.
"Even so, brother," I grins, stealin' a slant at the Venus deCalifornia. "That's for me and the Kid. Gimme a room next to hisand--"
"Do you think this is a hotel?" he frowns at me.
"I should care!" I tells him. "Let me in--that's all _I_ want!"
With that the nurse remarks that the Kid is ready to see us, so me andMiss Vincent folleys her down the hall and she opens a door and callsin,
"Visitors, Mister Scanlan!"
"Yeh?" pipes the Kid in a show-em-the exit voice. "Ah--can I have adrink of--ah--water?"
"Certainly," she says. "I'll bring it now."
"Don't rush it!" says the Kid. "It might curdle! Wait till theattendance falls off a bit!"
She laughs--and Miss Vincent didn't.
"Oho!" whispers the pet of the movies. "Like that, eh?"
We go in the room, and there's Scanlan layin' in the whitest bed I evenseen in my life and lookin' about as miserable as a millionaire'snephew on the day his uncle dies. There's about three hundred pillowsunder his head and neck, his arm is all bandaged up and beside the bedis a table with a set of flowers on it.
And then there was that nurse!
"Pretty soft!" I says.
The Kid grins and then twists around to Miss Vincent and groans.
"Does it hurt much, you poor dear?" she says.
"I wonder how I stand it!" pipes the Kid, keepin' his face from me.
"Can I get you anything?" she asks him after a minute.
"Well," answers the Kid, "if I did want something we could send Johnnyfor it." He looks at me meanin'ly. "Go out and git the right time!"he tells me. "And while you're at it--take lots of it!"
I went outside and closed the door. I remembered bein' in a hospitalonce, where they was examinin' guys for nerves, and one of the testswas hittin' 'em in the knee with a book and watchin' if their legs flewout. I don't remember the name of the book, but I figured on takin' achance. I breezed out to the desk in the hall and filled out one ofthem entry blanks about myself, and then I dug up the doctor.
"Doc," I says, "I wish you'd gimme the East and West, there's somethin'the matter with my nerve. I know you can fix me up, if anybody can,because you got so much yourself."
"Just what is the East and West?" he asks me.
"Why, look me over!" I explains. "I wanna see what I need or shouldget rid of."
He leads me in a little room to one side, and goes over me like alawyer lookin' for a clause in a contract he can bust. He looks at mytongue till it begin to quiver from exposure to the air; he clocks mypulse at a mile, two miles and over the jumps; he stuck a telephonelike you see in the foreign movies over my heart and listened in on theinternal gossip for twenty minutes; he walloped me on the chest withthe best he had and made me sing a song called"Ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah-ah!" Then he shakes his head and tells me to puton my coat.
"You're one of the healthiest specimens I ever examined!" he says."There's absolutely nothing the matter with you."
"Well, that's certainly tough, doc," I tells him, "because I sure wantto win one of them rooms like Scanlan has. I--wait a minute!" Ihollers, gettin' a flash. "You didn't gimme the book test!"
I hops over to the desk and grabs up a book off it. It was a big thickone called "Paralysis to Pneumonia," and was written by a couple ofGreeks named "Symptoms and Therapeutics." I never heard of the thingbefore, and I wished it had been "Uncle Tom's Cabin" or somethin' likethat, but I took a chance.
"Here!" I says. "I don't know if this is the right one or not, butlet's try it out on my knee, eh?"
I seen he didn't make me, so I explains about the nerve test I seenwhere some of the guys throwed out their legs when hit, and some of 'emdidn't. He gimme the laugh then, and tells me to look out of thewindow. I did and they's a terrible crash in back of me, but I keptlookin' out like he told me. Then he says all right, I can turnaround, and, when I did, I see the book case has fell over on thefloor. He claims if I had been nervous, I would have jumped eightyfeet when it crashed down and as they is nothin' the matter with me, Imight as well be on my way. Well, I was up against it--but only for aminute. That last crack of his gimme an idea. I makes a leap acrossthe floor, grabs my heart and starts to shake and shiver like a bum inone of them "Curse of Drink" productions.
"What's the matter?" he calls out.
I looks wildly around the room, and I seen a fly upside down on thewindow-sill tryin' to get to its feet.
"Oh!" I says. "I'm so nervous, doc, I'm shakin' like a crap-shooter.D'ye see that fly? Well, it must have fell off the window justthen--it gimme an awful shock--y'know that sudden noise and--"
He throws up his hands.
"Come!" he tells me. "I'll assign you to a room."
That's how I come to get mixed up with the Red Cross.
Pretty soon they had the Kid's arm better than it ever was, but as theywas still workin' on his nerves, we stuck around at the sanitarium.We're both on a diet, which meant that at each meal-time we was fedabout enough food to nourish a healthy infant about a half hour old.The general idea of the stuff was along nursery lines, too--milk, eggsand baby fodder, three times a day. I was O.K. when I went in there,but in a couple of weeks I was the prize patient on account of themmeals. They tell me I raved one night and bellered for a rattle, andScanlan made the nurse tell him all about Jack the Giant Killer and OldMother Hubbard. The place must have been run by a guy who believed inlettin' the dumb animals live, because you couldn't have got a piece ofmeat in there, if you begged 'em for it till you was black in the face.You could have milk and eggs or eggs and milk--that was the limit!
One mornin' the orderly forgets himself and asks me what I want forbreakfast. I thought they had let down the bars at last, and I all butjumped out of the bed.
"Gimme a steak, French fried potatoes, coffee and hot rolls," I says."Have the potatoes well done and the steak rare."
"Rave on," he answers me. "Do you want the eggs boiled, fried orscrambled? Ain't there no particular way you like 'em?"
"Not no more!" I groans, and falls back on the sheets.
The only bright spot in the whole thing was Miss Woods, the nurse thatcaused me to enter the place. She used to come in every mornin' andmake me play a thermometer was a lollypop and I held the thing in mymouth while she took my temperature and pulled a clock on my pulse.Then the orderly would come in and take the fruit friends had left forme, and I'd be all set for the day. When I kicked about the food, MissWoods claimed I ought to be tickled to get eggs to eat, because theywas very expensive on account of the late war. I says I didn't knowthey had been fightin' with eggs in Europe, and she laughs and says I'mdelicious. She brought me in a book to read and on the cover it's allabout the nights of Columbus. I didn't even open the thing, becausewhat kind of nights could Columbus have had--they was nothin' doin' inthem days. She asks me what my occupation was and says maybe she couldarrange so's I could work at it while I was there to keep my mind offthings. I says I _dared_ anything to keep my mind off of her, and shekinda frowns; so's to brighten things up I says before I come there Ihad been a deck steward on a submarine, and it gets a laugh. Then shesays I looked like a bookkeeper, and I didn't know whether that was aboost or a knock, so I passed it off by sayin' I had a chance to bethat when young, but had to give it up because I couldn't stand thesmell of ink.
After we have kidded like that for a while, I admits bein' KidScanlan's manager, and with that she suddenly runs to the door andcloses it tight. She comes back on tip-toes, leans over the bedlookin' at me for a minute and then she asks me very soft would I dosomethin' for her. I had got as far as offerin' to dive off the SingerBuildin' into a bucket of water, when she cuts me off and tells me tolisten to her as they wasn't much time.
She asked me had I ever noticed a big, husky, black-haired guy out inthe exercise yard. I said I had. I remembered a big whale of a man,with the face of a frightened kid, walkin' up and down, up and down,all day long. Every now and then he'd stop and pick up a pebble or ahandful of dirt and take it to one side where he'd examine it for halfan hour. Then he'd throw it away and start that sentry thing again.
Well, she said, this bird had been down to South America where he haddiscovered some kind of a mineral that had made him very rich and somekind of a fever that had made him very sick. He was at the sanitariumso's the doctors could keep a eye on him, the bettin' bein' about sevento five that he would go nutty, if some excavatin' wasn't doneimmediately on his dome. A operation will save him, but his parentswon't think of it, and there you are.
When she stopped, I told herthat whilst I never had performed no operations before, beyond oncewhen I pulled a loose tooth of Scanlan's between the second and thirdround of a fight, I would get somebody to sneak me in some tools andget to work on the big guy the first chance I got. She give a littlesqueal and says that wasn't what she wanted me to do, gettin' pale andprettier every minute. I seen I pulled a bone, so I asks her to comeright out with it and whatever she said I'd do it or break a leg.
"Then when Mr. Scanlan takes his exercise every day with the boxinggloves and punching bag," she says, "get him to persuade Arthur to joinhim. Arthur would do it for him quicker than he would for me or any ofthe doctors. He thinks we are all in league against him and he admiresMr. Scanlan--I've read it in his face as he watches him out in theyard. Arthur himself was a noted athlete before he went to SouthAmerica. He might even box with Mr. Scanlan. That would lessen thetension on his mind and we might get him to see that an operationis--Oh! Will you do it?" she breaks off suddenly, grabbin' my hand.
"Will I?" I says, holdin' on to that hand. "If Scanlan don't box him,I'll take him on myself!"
"Oh, thank you--thank you!" she whispers, "I--"
"That's all right!" I cuts her off. "Is--ah--is the big fellow anyrelation to you?"
She blushed. Yeh--and I looked at her, forgettin' a lot of thingsabout both of us that didn't quite match--and wished! I got everythingI had together for one good try, bein' handicapped by the fact that Istill had her hand and that room was goin' around like a top. Andthen, poor boob--I looked down at the hand I didn't have, wonderin' whyshe didn't answer me--and saw the answer on one finger. The darnedcold, glitterin' thing seemed to sneer at me. I felt like I'd stoppedone with my chin, and somethin' went outa me that ain't back yet.What? Well, a guy can hope, can't he?
Say! That ring must have cost five hundred bucks--it was a pip!
I grabbed a drink of that darned milk to steady myself, and I seen fromthe way she looked at me that she got me.
"I see!" I says, lettin' go of the hand that belonged to friend Arthur."He--and he went to South America, eh?"
"Listen!" she whispers, bendin' over. "You know now what this means tome. If you'll help me, I'll do anything for you! Why--"
I sat up in bed and grabbed her hand again.
"Anything?" I asks her.
She looks out the window, gets pale and grits her teeth. You could seeshe wished she hadn't said it, but she was game and was standin' pat.
"Anything!" she says.
"Then for the love of heaven!" I shoots out, "get me a piece of meat!This egg and milk thing is drivin' me nutty!"
She wheeled around so quick the scared look was still on her face, andfor a minute we both just looked. Then she give a kinda nervous littlelaugh, grabbed both my hands, squeezed 'em like a man--and blew!
Oh, boy! I ain't no hard loser but--
Well, it wasn't no trick at all to get big Arthur to box with the Kid.He took to it like a chorus girl does to a telephone and what puzzledme was why none of them fifty dollar doctors hadn't thought of itbefore. I guess it was because they was nobody there husky enough tohandle him by themselves, because Arthur packed a wallop in each handthat meant curtains, if it landed. Behind that was six-foot-two ofbone and about two hundred and forty pounds of muscle.
The Kid labored with him like a mother with a baby. He taught him howto duck, feint, jab, uppercut, swing, stall, rough in the clinches,everything he knew, and Arthur learned awful quick. So quick that wehad to cut the bouts down to twenty minutes each, because the big guydidn't _know_ and he was _tryin'_ with every punch!
The doctors told Scanlan to talk operation to him, and the Kid tried itonce. Arthur stopped boxin' and looked at him so reproachful thatScanlan refused to mention it again. He said he looked just like a kidthat come down Christmas mornin' and found no tree.
Finally, me and the Kid packed up and kissed the sanitarium good-by,but every afternoon at three we went over and Scanlan put on the gloveswith Arthur for a while, because I had give my word to his girl.Arthur got so he lived all the rest of the day and night lookin'forward to three o'clock in the afternoon. He snarled at the doctors,cuffed the orderlies, didn't know Miss Woods from the iron gate thatkept him in there, but the minute Scanlan breezed into the yard withthe gloves his face would be one big smile.
This went on for three months--and then Miss Vincent stepped into thething.
She wanted to know where the Kid was goin' every afternoon at threeo'clock, and like a simp, I told her the whole story. She thanks mewith a odd look that I didn't get till that night, when the Kid comestearin' in to our room at the hotel and slams the door. When he getswhere he can make his tongue do like he asks it, he says it's all offbetween him and Miss Vincent. By usin' some judgment and four hours oftime I find out that Miss Vincent thinks this stuff about the Kidboxin' Arthur is a lot of bunk and the Kid was really goin' back to thesanitarium every day to see Miss Woods. She has give that nurse theonce over and then used some woman's arithmetic which makes two and twoequal nine, get me? Well, one word led to another, and finally shetells him if he don't cut the sanitarium out, she's off him for life.
That's a bad way to handle Scanlan. He's Irish and--you know!
He told her we give our word and he was gonna box Arthur till theyremodeled Arthur's skull, no matter what happened. Then Miss Vincentgets sensible and weeps. In a minute the Kid is on his knees, and sheshows more sense than usual by chasin' him at that point. At thebottom of the stairs, Scanlan calls up and asks if he can kiss her goodnight. She tells him it's too late now, he has missed thepsychological moment.
That last was what had the Kid up in the air. He didn't know what itmeant, except that it was a cinch she wasn't wishin' him good luck.That psychological thing was past me, too. I looked it up in thedictionary, and it was there all right, but it could have been inRussia as far as I was concerned, because the way it described it wasover my head. The Kid finally puts it right up to Miss Vincent, andshe tells him to find out for himself.
"Go over to that trick sanitarium of yours, and ask Miss Woods," shetells him scornfully. "Maybe _she_ can tell you what it means!"
But at two o'clock, when the Kid is leavin' for his daily maulin' beewith big Arthur, she comes along in her racin' car and asks him to goto Los Angeles with her. The Kid stalls and says he's just about gottime to get over and give the South American entry a workout, althoughhe'd rather take the ride with her than defend his title against aone-armed blind man. She frowns for a minute, and then she smiles andsays hop in with her and she'll drive him over to the sanitarium.
When they blowed in that night at seven o'clock, I seen the Kid lookskinda worried, while he's washin' the Golden West off his face andneck, so I ask him how Arthur is comin' along. Scanlan coughs a coupleof times and then he says he don't know, because he wasn't able to getover there that afternoon--the first he'd missed since I promised theworld's champion girl I'd assist her. While I'm still bawlin' him out,he claims it wasn't his fault, because the car broke down in the middleof California and they had to get towed back.
I _will_ say I was sorry to find out that Miss Vincent wasn't above alittle rough stuff! Oh, you ladies!
The next day Genaro suddenly decides to take a scene in the Kid'smovie, and as we was under contract we had to stay. The thirdafternoon, Miss Vincent gets a terrible headache and the Kid has to siton the hotel porch with her, readin' out loud her press notices fromthe movie magazines.
I kept out of it, but thinkin' about Arthur and that little nurse overthere had me bitin' nails, and the next day I told the Kid if he didn'tgo out and trade wallops with Arthur, I was through as his pilot. Isaid that right out loud in front of Miss Vincent, lookin' her right inthem famous baby-blue eyes of hers. But you can't figure women--shecrossed me and tells the Kid to go and she'd go with him!
We went out in her racin' car, with me ridin' on the runnin' board andthinkin' what a fine thing accident insuran
ce was for a guy of moderatemeans. By dumb luck we missed crashin' into the scenery along the roadand stopped outside the iron gates of the sanitarium. We had hardlygot in the office, when from down the hall we heard what sounded like arace riot, and a couple of orderlies goes past us so fast that I didn'tbelieve it could be done, although I seen 'em. The Kid runs down towhere the noise was comin' from and I tagged along in the rear,stoppin' with him outside a big two-doored room, where from the soundsthat crashed out from inside they was puttin' on a dress rehearsal of arace riot.
While we stood there lookin' at each other, a familiar deep snarlin'voice roars out over the others--they was a scream, too, that made meneck and neck with the Kid as we busted in the locked doors and wentsprawlin' inside.
Oh, boy!
A half dozen nurses and two or three doctors is lined up against thewall on the far side, crouchin' back of an operatic table and tryin' toforce their bodies through the hard cement. The place looks like acyclone had hit it, with the walls scraped and scarred and the floorcovered with plaster and what not like the show-room of a junk shop.Half on the floor and half on a chair is Miss Woods. I hoped she hadonly fainted.
In the middle of the room and backin' against the doors is a big,growlin', red-eyed killer that used to be Arthur.
Most of his clothes is torn off where some of them poor little humanbein's had tried to hold him, and over his head he's swingin' a ironpole he'd torn from the fancy front gate outside. Each time he swings,he comes nearer that bunch with nothin' between them and Heaven but awhite enameled table. He didn't seem to notice Scanlan, who slidalmost to his feet, and rightin' himself like a cat, stepped back tosize the thing up. Then with a growl, Arthur chops at the operatin'table with the pole and crumbles it like a berry box. The womenscreamed--I think one of 'em fainted. The doctors spread in front ofthem, as Arthur raised the pole to finish the job.
And then Scanlan, poppin' up from somewheres, jumps in front of Arthur,his face the color of that busted table, but his body as steady as theRockies, as he plants himself there before the big guy, swingin' hishead back easily before that tremblin' iron pole. The Kid throws hishands up in a fightin' position and dances from one foot to the otherlookin' for a openin', like a guy with a pail of water tryin' to putout hell! Arthur hesitates, starin' wildly at the Kid, and then hisface begins to change till it's almost human. He looks like he'stryin' to think.
"Come on!" bawls Scanlan--loud, to keep the crack out of his voice."Come on!" He dances around Arthur and makes a pass at him. "I gotsome new ones to show you to-day!" he yells. "Hurry up, orwe--won't--have--time--to--mix it!"
I remember the head doc told me afterwards it was because the bigfeller had been doin' that every day--boxin' with the Kid--for so longthat it--
But what's that matter now? Arthur dropped that iron pole, put up hishands, grins like a baby and rocks the Kid with a straight left, whilethem nurses and doctors tumbled out of the room thankin' theirdifferent gods. Somebody carried out Miss Woods, too.
I guess Scanlan never battled before like he did in the next tenminutes, because he was fightin' for the biggest purse he ever climbedin a ring for--his life! The big guy smashed him all over the placetryin' for a knockout like the Kid had taught him, crushin' his ribs inthe clinches till Scanlan's breathin' cut me to the heart and rainin'wallops on him like a machine gun. Me? Oh, I didn't do much but rootfor the Kid. Y'see I was beside that operatic table when Arthur lammedit with the pole--some of it kinda glanced off and I stopped it with myhead. A game little bantam of a doctor hopped around 'em, as theyslewed over the floor, lookin' like a referee--but he was simply tryin'to slip friend Arthur a hypodermic while Scanlan kept him busy.
Finally, the Kid staggers Arthur with a lucky right smash to the chin,and then a half a dozen left and rights to the body cut his size downto where the Kid could put all he had left in one swing--and it's allover. The little doc with the hypo gets busy, and, when we left theroom, Arthur was headed for the operatin' pen--his trip havin' beeninterrupted by the slight excitement Scanlan had stopped!
Well, me and the Kid was hustled upstairs to be fussed over, windin'up, you might say, where we started, in the hospital. After a timeMiss Woods comes up and thanks us--at least she made a stab at it andweeps. The operation had been a success, and when Arthur could walk hewas gonna reward Miss Woods for her lovin' care by marryin' her, andshe looked like she thought that was enough--ain't women a scream?
We was talkin' to the doctor, when Miss Vincent come in--stands in thedoorway for a minute lookin' like a swell picture in a punk frame, andcomes to the Kid with a yours-for-keeps look in her eyes. Scanlanthrows up his head like he's just thought of somethin'.
"Say!" he pipes through the bandages. "I know what that psychologicalmoment thing is now--the doc has just been tellin' me. It seems," hesays with a grin. "It seems I pulled one off here this afternoon!"
THE END
CHARLES ALDEN SELTZER'S WESTERN NOVELS
May be had wherever books are sold. Ask for Grosset and Dunlap's list.
THE WAY OF THE BUFFALO
Jim Cameron builds a railroad adjacent to Ballantine's property, eventhough Ballantine threatens to kill him the day he runs it.
BRASS COMMANDMENTS
Stephen Lannon writes six commandments over six loaded cartridges setout where the evil men who threaten him and the girl he loves, may seethem.
WEST!
When Josephine Hamilton went West to visit Betty, she met "Satan"Lattimer, ruthless, handsome, fascinating, who taught her some things.
SQUARE DEAL SANDERSON
Square Deal Sanderson rode onto the Double A just as an innocent manwas about to be hanged and Mary Bransford was in danger of losing herproperty.
"BEAU" RAND
Bristling with quick, decisive action, and absorbing in its love theme,"Beau" Rand, mirrors the West of the hold-up days in remarkable fashion.
THE BOSS OF THE LAZY Y
Calumet Marston, daredevil, returns to his father's ranch to find it isbeing run by a young woman who remains in charge until he acceptssundry conditions.
"DRAG" HARLAN
Harlan establishes himself as the protector of Barbara Morgan and dealsout punishment to the girl's enemies through the lightning flash ofdrawn guns.
THE TRAIL HORDE
How Kane Lawler fought the powerful interests that were trying to crushhim and Ruth Hamlin, the woman he loved, makes intensely interestingreading.
THE RANCHMAN
The story of a two-fisted product of the west, pitted against arascally spoilsman, who sought to get control of Marion Harlan and herranch.
"FIREBRAND" TREVISON
The encroachment of the railroad brought Rosalind Benham--and alsoresults in a clash between Corrigan and "Firebrand" that ends when thebetter man wins.
THE RANGE BOSS
Ruth Harkness comes West to the ranch her uncle left her. RexRanderson, her range boss, rescues her from a mired buckboard, and isin love with her from that moment on.
THE VENGEANCE OF JEFFERSON GAWNE
A story of the Southwest that tells how the law came to a cow-town,dominated by a cattle thief. There is a wonderful girl too, who winsthe love of Jefferson Gawne.
GROSSET & DUNLAP, PUBLISHERS, NEW YORK