Fritz to the Front, or, the Ventriloquist Scamp-Hunter. Wheeler Edward Lytton

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      Fritz to the Front or the Ventriloquist Scamp-Hunter

      CHAPTER I

      MADGE

      One bright, hot August morning a cheap excursion was advertised to leave South Street wharf, Philadelphia, for Atlantic City – that lively little city by the sea, which is so fast growing in size and popularity as to rival the more noted of the Atlantic coast summer resorts. A cheap excursion which is within the means of the working class is ever a success, and this one was no exception; it gave the masses a chance to escape from the overheated city for a small sum, and they grasped at it eagerly.

      Bright and early the ferry-boat was crowded and still there was no cessation of the stream of humanity that surged toward the river front. There were representatives of every trade in the city, nearly, and likewise a mixture of several nationalities; there were young folks and old folks and little children; then there were roughs, bruisers, and bummers, an indispensable adjunct to summer excursions; and, all in all, a heterogeneous collection of humanity.

      Just as the hot August sun peeped up over Jersey's sandy horizon, the bell of the boat rung, and the huge ferry-boat began to move out across the Delaware, toward Kaighn's Point, where connection was to be made with the railway.

      It was a noisy crowd aboard the boat, there being a good many roughs among the pleasure-seekers, who were more or less under the effect of Dock Street "soothing syrup," and who were disposed to have something to say to every one.

      Among the passengers was a young lady of eighteen or nineteen years of age, who sat in the stern of the boat, seeming to have no friends or acquaintances.

      She was by no means unprepossessing in face, and was trimly built, and dressed rather stylishly, compared to the others of her sex aboard the boat.

      It was not long before several of the roughs noted the fact that she was unaccompanied, and determined to know the reason why.

      Therefore, one lubberly, raw-boned young bruiser, with a freckled face, blood-shot eyes, and a large, red nose, approached her and tipped his hat with tipsy gallantry:

      "'Scuse me, young lady, but (hic) may I ask ef yer got (hic) company?" he asked.

      "Plenty of it, sir," the young lady replied, her eyes flashing. "I do not know you; you'd confer a favor by not addressing me."

      "I'll do as I please, my gal; don't ye sass yer cuzzin. Don't ye know me? I'm a 'full moon' solid Mulligan Muldoon, I am."

      Greatly annoyed, the young woman turned her head away without answering.

      This, however, did not abash the "full moon," for he advanced closer, and laid one burly hand upon the railing beside her.

      "Now, (hic) see here, my beloved Miss Moriarty," he began, but before he could proceed further, a foppishly attired young Jew, with red hair and a hooked nose, stepped forward and slapped the Fourth Ward man on the shoulder.

      "Yoost you bounce oud, mine friend," he said. "Der young lady don'd vas vant some off your attention."

      "Hello! who in blazes are you?" Muldoon demanded, gruffly, not offering to move. "I are Muldoon, ther solid man, I am, an' I allow I kin lick any man on (hic) ther boat."

      "That don'd make any difference. Dot young lady don'd vant you near her, und uff you don'd vas gone away, right off quick, I'll throw you oud – dot's der style off an excursionist I am!" cried the Jew.

      "Oho! you wull, wull you? You'll throw me out, hey? – me Full-moon Muldoon, ther solid man? I'll hev a kiss from the girl an' then I'll heave yer Israelite carcass overboard for the fishes."

      And, making a drunken lunge forward, he threw his arms about the young lady's neck, amid indignant cries of a crowd of bystanders, and attempted to kiss her.

      But he failed in his purpose, for she pluckily threw him off, and the next instant the Jewish-looking young man came to her rescue.

      Seizing the rough by the coat and trousers he jerked him away; then with the strength of a Hercules, raised him from the floor and hurled him forward down the cabin stairway to the lower deck.

      A cheer of approval at once went up from the larger share of the spectators, and the Dutchman became the hero of the hour.

      Some of Muldoon's companions rushed to his rescue and found him doubled up like a jack-knife, and groaning over severe bumps.

      His rough usage, however, had evidently cowed him, for he made no attempt to show fight or create further disturbance.

      The young lady thanked the Jew, but that was all, until the boat grated up alongside Kaighn's Point wharf, when she caught his eye and motioned for him to approach.

      "If you will be so kind as to assist me in finding a seat in the train," she said, modestly, "I would esteem it a great favor."

      "Vel, you bet I vil! Id is a purdy rough crowd for a young lady withoud some company. My name ish Fritz Snyder; vot ish yours?"

      "You may call me Madge," was the quiet reply.

      Then Fritz took her little traveling-bag, and they left the boat with the crowd, and boarded the excursion-train which was close at hand.

      Being among the first to reach it, they had no difficulty in finding a seat, and made haste to occupy it, as the cars were fast filling.

      "I reckon ash how you vas goin' to der sea-shore?" Fritz asked, having some curiosity to know.

      "I presume so, if the cars take me there," the young lady replied, with a faint smile. "Is it a nice place?"

      "Vel, I don'd know. I vas neffer there, but I hear id vas a nice place. You see, I vas goin' there on pizness – I – I – don'd know off I stay long or not."

      Little more was said during the overland trip to the ocean.

      The young woman did not appear inclined to talk, and Fritz finally excused himself, and moved to another seat.

      "Der ish somedings vot don'd vas right apoud dot vimmens," he soliloquized. "She ish not goin' to der sea-shore for vone object alone, I'll bet a half-dollar."

      Just ahead of him, in the next seat, sat two old ladies, who were discussing that topic uppermost in their minds – spiritualism. One was a believer – the other an unbeliever.

      "Pooh! you can't stuff such nonsense into my head, Marier," the unbeliever declared, taking a pinch of snuff. "Speerits don't trouble me."

      "But, that is because you have no faith, Mehitable. Now, my Sammy's speerit converses with me, every day and night, and keeps me posted about the realms of eternal bliss, and when I ax him to appear, he comes before me as natural as life."

      "Has he got that wart behind his left ear yet?" apparently asked a man in front of the ladies, though Ventriloquist Fritz was of course the author of the question.

      "Sir-r-rh!" the spiritualist cried, indignantly, "I'll have you know my Samuel had no wart upon his person!"

      "But he had bunions, though!" a portly old gent across the aisle seemed to declare.

      "It's a lie – a shameful lie! I'd like to know how you dare cast your insinuations about one you never knew, sir?" and Mrs. Marier arose in her seat, excitedly. СКАЧАТЬ