Bat Wing Bowles. Coolidge Dane

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СКАЧАТЬ I climbed up on that ol' rockin'-hawse – I was dressed like a clown, of course – and after the regular people had gone round the ring I come rackin' along out of the side-tent, a-bowin' to all the ladies and whistlin' to all the dogs, until you'd think I was goin' to do wonders. But all the kids was on, and they begin to laugh and throw peanuts, because they knowed the clown was bound to git busted – that's what the rascal is paid fer. Well, we went canterin' around the ring, me and that old white hawse that had been doin' it for fifteen years, and every time we come to a hoop I'd make my jump – the ring-master would pop his whip – and when I come squanderin' out the other side the old hawse would be right there to ketch me. Trick he had – he'd slow down and kinder wait fer me – but that dogged ring-master put up a job on me – he shore did; but the scoundrel tried to lie out of it afterwards.

      "You see, them people that come out to Coney they expect somethin' fer their money, and bein' as I was only the fill-in man and the other feller was comin' back anyway, the management decided to ditch me. So when I made a jump at my last hoop the ring-master forgot to pop his whip – or so he said – and I come down on my head and like to killed me. Well, sir, the way them people hollered you'd think the king had come, an' when a couple of fool clowns come runnin' out and carried me off on a shutter they laughed till they was pretty nigh sick. That's the way it is at Coney Island – unless somebody is gittin' killed, them tight-wads won't spend a cent."

      The red-headed raconteur laughed a little to himself, and, seeing his audience still attentive, he launched out into another.

      "Yes, sir!" he began. "That's a great place – old Coney. You boys that's never been off the range don't know what it is you've missed. There's side shows, and circuses, and shoot-the-chutes, and whirley-go-rounds, and Egyptian seeresses, and hot-dog joints, and – well, say, speakin' of hot-dog reminds me of the time I took the job of spieler fer Go-Go, the dog-faced boy. This here Go-Go was a yaller nigger that they had rigged up like a cannibal and put in a big box along with a lot of dehorned rattlesnakes, Gila monsters, and sech. It was my job to stand up over the box, while the ballyhoo man outside was pullin' 'em in, and pop a whip over this snake-eatin' cannibal, and let on like he was tryin' to escape. I had a little old pistol that I'd shoot off, and then Go-Go would rattle his chain and yell 'Owww-wah!' like he was sure eatin' 'em alive.

      "That was the barker's cue, and he'd holler out: 'Listen to the wild thing! He howls, and howls, and howls! Go-Go, the wild boy, the snake-eatin' Igorotte from the Philippines! Step right in, ladies and gentlemen! The price is ten cents, one dime, the tenth part of a dollar – ' and all that kind of stuff, until the place was filled up. Then it was my turn to spiel, and I'd git up on the box, with a blacksnake in one hand and that little old pistol in the other, and say:

      "'La-adies and gentle-men, before our performance begins I wish to say a few words relatin' to Echigogo Cabagan, the wild boy of Luzon. This strange creature was captured by Lieutenant Crawford, of the Seventy-ninth Heavy Artillery, in the wilds of the Igorotte country in the Philippines. At the time of his recovery he was livin' in the tropical jungles, never havin' seen a human face, an' subsistin' entirely upon poisonous reptyles, which was his only pets and companions. So frequently was he bit by these venomous reptyles that Professor Swope, of the Philadelphia Academy, after a careful analysis of his blood, figgers out that it contains seven fluid ounces of the deadly poison, or enough to kill a thousand men.

      "'On account of the requests of the humane society, the mayor, and several prominent ladies now present in the audience, we will do our best to prevent Go-Go from eatin' his snakes alive but – ' and right there was the nigger's cue to come in.

      "'Oww-wah!' he'd yell, shakin' his chain and tearin' around in his box, 'Ow-woo-wah!' And then he'd grab up them pore, sufferin' rattlesnakes and sech, and quile 'em around his neck, and snap his teeth like he was bitin' heads off – and me, I'd pop my whip and shoot off my pistol, and scare them fool people most to death.

      "Well, that was the kind of an outfit it was, and one day when the nigger was quieted down between acts and playin' with a rag-doll we had give him in order to make him look simple-minded-like, a big, buck Injun from the Wild West Show come in with the bunch and looked at Go-Go kinder scary-like. You know – "

      A noise of scuffling feet made the story-teller pause, and then the gang of card players came tumbling out of the bunk-house.

      "Let's roast some ribs," said one.

      "No, I want some bread and lick," answered another.

      "What's the matter with aigs?" broke in a third.

      "Say, you fellers shut up, will you?" shouted a man by the fire. "Old Brig's tellin' us a story!"

      "Oh, git 'im a chin-strap," retorted the bull-voiced Buck. "I want some ribs!"

      "Well, keep still, can't ye?" appealed the anxious listener; but silence was not on the cards. The chuck-box was broken open and ransacked for a butcher-knife; then as Buck went off to trim away the ribs of the cook's beef, Hardy Atkins and his friends made merry with the quiet company.

      "Ridin' 'em again, are you, Brigham?" inquired Happy Jack with a grin.

      "No, he's divin' off'n that hundred-foot pole!" observed Poker-faced Bill sardonically.

      "And never been outside the Territory!" commented Hardy Atkins sotto voce.

      Something about this last remark seemed to touch the loquacious Brigham, for he answered it with spirit:

      "Well, that's more than some folks can say," he retorted. "I sure never run no hawse race with the sheriff out of Texas!"

      "No, you pore, ignorant Jack Mormon," jeered Atkins; "and you never rode no circus hawse at Coney Island, neither. I've seen fellers that knowed yore kinfolks down on the river, and they swore to Gawd you never been outside of Arizona. More'n that, they said you was a worser liar than old Tom Pepper – and he got kicked out of hell fer lyin'."

      A guffaw greeted this allusion to the fate of poor old Tom; but Brigham was not to be downed by comparisons.

      "Yes," he drawled; "I heerd about Tom Pepper. I heerd say he was a Texican, and the only right smart one they was; and the people down there was so dog ignorant, everything he told 'em they thought it was a lie. Built up quite a reputation that way – like me, here. Seems like every time I tell these Arizona Texicans anything, they up and say I'm lyin'."

      He ran his eye over his audience and, finding no one to combat him further, he lapsed into a mellow philosophy.

      "Yes," he said, cocking his eye again at Bowles; "I'm an ignorant kind of a feller, and I don't deny it; but I ain't one of these men that won't believe a thing jest because I never seen it. Now, here's a gentleman here – I don't even know his name – but the chances are, if he's ever been to Coney, he'll tell you my stories is nothin'."

      "How about that hundred-foot pole?" inquired Poker Bill, as Bowles bowed and blushed.

      "Yes, sure!" agreed Brigham readily. "We'll take that one now and let it go fer the bunch. If that's true, they're all true, eh?"

      "That's me!" observed Bill laconically.

      "All right, then, stranger," continued Brigham. "We'll jest leave the matter with you, and if what I said ain't true I'll never open my head again. I was tellin' these pore, ignorant Texas cotton-pickers that back at Coney Island they was a feller that did high divin' – ever see anything like that? All right, then, this is what I told 'em. I told 'em this divin' sport had a pole a hundred foot high, with a tank of water at the bottom six foot deep and mebbe ten foot square, and when it come time he climbed up to the top and stood on a little platform, facin' backwards and lookin' into a pocket СКАЧАТЬ