Sube Cane Part 36

Sube refused to do this. "'Tain't the best way," he argued. "The best way is to have our arms all full of stuff when we go to a house, and then they'll think we're genuwine, and give us more."

And Sube was right. The mere sight of the "wrapper" reminded the next lady of the house they called on, that she had one she could spare. And before long the stock of "wrappers" was quite complete, with sizes full, and a wide range of patterns to select from.

Then suddenly there came from the clear sky, so to speak, the most splendid offering of the day: a silken slumber-robe of stunning checkerboard design, and trimmed with a shimmering band of panne velvet.

True, there were coffee stains on the front and paint stains on the back, but it was a gorgeous garment. And the suggestive effect of it was wonderful; for the first door at which Sube knocked after he had hung the slumber-robe over his arm, responded with a man's suit of gambler's-plaids that could have been suggested by nothing else.

And with the plaid suit came a crimson vest with a set of bra.s.s b.u.t.tons that was nearly complete. The combined effect of the slumber-robe and the suit and the vest drew from the next place a pair of men's lemon-colored shoes with moth-eaten cloth tops--and before the members of the Belgian relief committee had reached the sidewalk they were in a turmoil.

The shoes had been handed to Gizzard; but the moment Sube got his eyes on them he politely offered to relieve Gizzard of the burden.

"You got your hands full, there, Giz," he said; "I'll take those shoes."

"Never mind," replied Gizzard, brushing hurriedly by. "I can handle 'em all right."

But Sube insisted. "I ain't got much of a load," he prevaricated, reaching towards the shoes and dropping one or two of the things he was carrying. "I'll take 'em."

"I don't _think_ you will," growled Gizzard. "I'll keep 'em myself. She give 'em to _me_! And besides, they're too big for you."

"I ain't afraid of that," returned Sube angrily. "All I'm 'fraid of is that they ain't big enough."

As he said this he suddenly dropped his burden on the ground and made a grab for the shoes.

"No, you don't!" howled Gizzard, dropping his own burden and jumping back. But he was too late; Sube had already s.n.a.t.c.hed one of the shoes and was reaching for the other. A struggle ensued, each boy holding fast to the shoe he already had and trying to get possession of the other; but it was of short duration. For each boy realized that he could not overpower the other without the unrestricted use of both hands.

As suddenly as it had started, the struggling stopped, and each boy dropped on the gra.s.s and began to remove a shoe preparatory to putting his half of the bone of contention in the only safe place he could think of. And at practically the same instant both were back on their feet again ready to resume the struggle. But the hopelessness of holding one end of an evenly matched opponent while removing a shoe from the other end became apparent to both; and muttering things about "showing" each other they took up their burdens, and still muttering, made their way back to "headquarters."

CHAPTER XXIII

RUMORS OF FRAUD

Sube was the first to enter the barn and deposit his load of cast-offs on the floor, and as Gizzard came shuffling along a short distance behind looking down at his mismated feet, Sube grunted:

"Umgh, I'm glad that shoe didn't fall off'm you 'fore you got here; it fits you like a cup on a pump."

Gizzard snorted with rage. "I'll _show_ you how it fits," he threatened, "if you don't give me my other shoe! She give them shoes to _me_! She put 'em right in my hands, and they're mine!"

If Sube had been entertaining any ideas of taking the shoe from Gizzard by force, he did not show it, for when he spoke again his voice was calm and peaceful. "Listen here, Giz," he pleaded; "look at this bully gambler's suit. Jus' think of wearin' a suit like a feller that keeps a good tough pool hall! You gimme that other shoe, and I'll give you my share of this suit, and the red vest besides."

But Gizzard was not to be sidetracked. "What do I want of an ol' suit of clo's?" he demanded angrily. "I wouldn't give that shoe for a dozen of 'em! Now you gimme my shoe 'fore it falls off! She give that shoe to me, and it's _mine_!"

For a moment Sube hesitated; then he bent over and unb.u.t.toned the lemon-colored shoe, and kicked it across the barn. "Take your ol' shoe!"

he blurted out. "It's too small for me, anyway!"

"Ya-a-ah!" jeered Gizzard as he leaped after it. "Too small, nuthin'!

Y'could of kicked it off without unb.u.t.tonin' it at all!"

"It pinched my foot, or you wouldn't have got it so easy," muttered Sube; "but let me tell you one thing, Mr. Gizzard--I get my pick of all the rest of the men's shoes we take in."

Gizzard felt that he could afford to be generous. "Sure you do," he a.s.sented readily. "But I can tell you that there won't be nuthin' to compare with these good ol' cloth-tops," he added as he finished b.u.t.toning the shoe which he had just put on, and began strutting up and down before Sube in a most tantalizing way.

This was too much for Sube, who stood up and pretended to yawn as he said, "Well, you better be gettin' 'em off so's we can go on collectin'

things."

"Gettin' 'em off?" demanded Gizzard with an offended air. "I don't think I'll be gettin' 'em off. I'm goin' to wear 'em!"

"Wear those lookin' things in public?" sneered Sube. "Well, if you do, you'll go collectin' alone. _I_ won't go with you."

"You bet I'll go alone," said Gizzard. "And we'll soon see who it is that gets all the best things." And he shuffled out of the barn and went his way.

"Remember, now," Sube called after him, "I get my first pick of _all_ the men's shoes no matter who brings 'em in."

Gizzard nodded his head several times and started in an easterly direction. As soon as Sube saw which way Gizzard had gone, he picked up the slumber-robe and started in the opposite direction. He went by the most direct route to the home of one Achilles Whitney, a gentleman constructed on the lines of a white hope. But here he met with complete failure and withdrew empty handed.

Next he tried the residence of Mr. Silas Peck, an ex-sheriff and a man of some weight; but here he acquired nothing but an old derby hat and a quant.i.ty of feminine apparel, which he had now come to regard somewhat lightly.

His next stopping place was the door of Oliver Lyman, Esquire, another gentleman of Goliathic size. Here, as in other places visited by him alone, he made a special plea for men's shoes for the "sufferin'

barefooted Belgiums" and he nearly died of joy when he saw the size of the pair the generous Mrs. Lyman handed out to him. He hurried back to headquarters at once, and there Gizzard found him a few minutes later, most fetchingly attired.

Sube had put on the pool-room suit and red vest, and in order to display the vest to the greatest advantage he had thrust his hands deep in the pants pockets. Gizzard was beginning to think that perhaps he had overlooked a bet on the suit, when he suddenly caught sight of the shoes. He stopped in his tracks and stood as if transfixed, motionless and speechless, while Sube was bustling around arranging some of the merchandise. And in spite of the mammoth size of the shoes he had on, Sube walked gracefully--almost naturally. But there was a reason for this; he had been foresighted enough to put Mr. Lyman's shoes on over his own. Yet how was Gizzard expected to know that?

For only a moment was the wearer of the lemon-colored shoes speechless; then he managed to stommer out, "S-S-Some s-s-shoes there, Sube. Where'd you ever dig 'em up?"

"These shoes?" Sube gave his partner a patronizing look. "Why, I was goin' past Lyman's, and I guess M's Lyman must of looked out of the window and seen how big my feet was, 'cause she come right to the door and called me. 'Seward,' she says, 'here's a pair of shoes I bought for Mr. Lyman in Rochester, and they're too big for him. He can't wear 'em; but I thought _you_ might be able to wear 'em,' she says. So I tried 'em on, and they fit like the paper on the wall. How do you like 'em?"

Gizzard gazed enviously at the great flat, liver-shaped shoes his companion was wearing, and replied, "They're all right, only they're black. They don't match your suit as good as these here shoes of mine would."

"They match plenty good enough to suit _me_," Sube a.s.sured him; "and besides, those shoes of yours are too small for me."

"Too small!" howled Gizzard. "Why, you had 'em on jus' a little while ago!"

"Not both of 'em," replied Sube; "only _one_ of 'em. And that's why I give it back. Didn't I tell you right then it was too small for me--?"

"Vell, you say coom dree o'clock," said a harsh voice behind them. "I coom; vat y'vanta sell?"

It was the buyer for Mose Smolenski, Everything New and Second-Hand Cheap for Cash.

Sube was the first to recover from his astonishment. "Why," he managed to get out after a struggle, "why, we want to sell all this prope'ty."

He made a sweeping gesture that included not only the clothing contributed in the name of the "sufferin' Belgiums" but his father's new lawn-mower, piano-box, garden tools, and a pile of kindling wood.

[Ill.u.s.tration]

The magnitude of the offer aroused the suspicions of the second-hand man at once. "Dot's a good deal," he muttered; "it's too mooch, altogedder too mooch."