The Rose in the Ring Part 17

"I don't know," said the other, pursing his lips. "I can't say that I like Braddock's greedy ways. He wants too much in the divvy. There's plenty of shows nowadays that don't ask anything off of us. But Brad's got to have a slice of it. See? I've been thinking a little of Barnum or Van Amberg."

Ernie spoke up shrilly. "You bet your life he ain't going to leave the show." d.i.c.k turned pink about the ears.

"Never mind that, kid," he said uneasily. David instinctively knew that there was a girl in the balance.

d.i.c.k had the wonderful knack of "spotting" a policeman two blocks away.

At times this quality in him was positively uncanny.

"I can see 'em through a brick wall," he said to David. "I guess it must be second sight."

"It's second smell," said Ernie briefly.

They came at length to the show grounds. Here, to David's amazement, every one they met greeted the tall youth with a shout of joy. He shook hands with all of them, from the hostler to the manager, from the "butcher" to the highest-priced performer, without any apparent distinction.

"h.e.l.lo, d.i.c.k, old boy!" was the universal greeting.

"h.e.l.lo, kid!" was his genial response, to young and old alike. Women, sunning themselves, waved their hands gayly at him; some of them wafted kisses--which he gallantly returned. Old Joey Noakes took his pipe out of his mouth, crinkled his face up into a mighty smile, and exclaimed:

"It's good for sore eyes to see you again, d.i.c.ky. How was it this time?"

"I liked the stone pile better than the chuck they gave us. Gee whiz, I'll never get pinched in that burg again."

David turned away for a moment to speak to some one. When he looked again, d.i.c.k Cronk had disappeared.

"Where is he?" he asked of old Joey.

"He's 'arf-way uptown by this time," said the clown quizzically.

"Who is he, Joey?"

Joey looked surprised. "Don't you know Artful d.i.c.k Cronk?" he demanded.

"Why, Jacky, he's the slickest dip--that's short for pickpocket--in the United States. He's the king of all the glue-fingers, that boy is. My eye, 'ow he can do wot he does, I can't for the life of me see." He then went into a long dissertation on the astonishing accomplishments of Artful d.i.c.k Cronk.

"And you all a.s.sociate with him?" cried David, openly surprised.

"Certain sure. Why not? He's the most honest dip I ever see. He wouldn't touch a thing belonging to one of us--not a thing. He works only on these 'ere rich blokes wot thinks we're sc.u.m and vermin. But, I say, Jacky," he interrupted himself to say sagely, "I wouldn't be seen with 'im too often if I was you. He _does_ have to make some very sudden escapes sometimes, unexpected like, and I doubt if you can dodge as well as he can. If that feller was to give up lifting pocket-books, he could be the grandest lawyer in ten states. Wot he don't know about the law n.o.body else does. Experience is a wonderful teacher. He comes by 'is name rightly, he does,--Artful d.i.c.k. I've larfed myself sick many a time listening to 'ow he lifted things. Once he actually took a feller's pocket-book out of 'is inside westcut pocket, removed the bills, signed a little receipt for 'em, and then returned the leather to the gent's westcut. Later on he 'eard the chap was going to use the money to pay off a morgidge and that he 'ad a sick wife. Wot did d.i.c.k do but 'unt him up again and put the money back, removing the receipt and subst.i.tuting a fifty-dollar bill he'd filched from a wise guy in a bank, all wrapped up in a little note telling the chap to give it to 'is wife with the compliments of Old Nick. I've larfed myself to sleep wondering wot the feller thought when he found the note!" "I've never seen any one just like him. He's a very odd person," said David. "I think I should like him in spite of what he is."

"Everybody likes him. He's so light-'earted he almost bursts with joy.

He's followed us for two seasons, and I've never knowed 'im to do a mean or dishonorable thing," said Joey with perfect complacency. And yet Joey Noakes was the soul of integrity! David could not help laughing; whereupon the clown hastened to add: "Except to steal."

"I'm sorry he's that kind," deplored David.

"He's about twenty-one," said Joey, a retrospective light in his eye.

"He first joined us as a sleight-o'-hand man in the side-show. That cussed little brother of 'is got a job taking tickets. d.i.c.k 'ad been in jail a couple of times and he decided to turn over a new leaf. He'd 'a'

been all right if it 'adn't been for Ernie. Ernie didn't think he was making enough money by being honest, so he just naturally drove 'im to picking again. That boy is a little devil. You see, the trouble with poor d.i.c.k is, that he's set 'imself up to protect and provide for Ernie all 'is life. It seems that he's responsible for the deformity. When Ernie was five years old, d.i.c.k, who 'ad a wery disagreeable temper in them days, kicked the little cuss downstairs. The kid was laid up for months and he came out of it all twisted up--just as you see 'im now.

Well, d.i.c.k never got mad at anybody after that. He wery properly swore he'd take care of Ernie and try to make up for wot he'd done to 'im. He said he'd beg or steal or kill if he 'ad to, to provide for 'im. He's never 'ad to beg or kill, I'm thankful to say. So, you see, he ain't altogether to blame for 'is occupation. Ernie's a miser. He wouldn't be satisfied with 'arf of a decent man's wages, if d.i.c.k minded to go to honest work; he must have 'arf of all d.i.c.k can steal, and he sets up a 'orrible rumpus if d.i.c.k don't make some good pulls. Ernie's excuse for 'is greediness is this: he says he wants to 'ave plenty to fall back on if d.i.c.k 'appens to get a long term in the pen. Who's going to support 'im, says he, while d.i.c.k's doing time? Wot do you think of that for brotherly love?"

"It's unbelievable!"

"He curses d.i.c.k in one breath and sweeties 'im in the next," went on Joey. "Wheedles 'im, don't you see. Once d.i.c.k was in the jug for two months. Ernie wanted to kill 'im afore he got out, he was that enraged at 'im for being so inconsiderate as to get caught. They say Ernie has several thousand dollars in a bank in New York, every nickel of which d.i.c.k stole for 'im. d.i.c.k spends 'is own share freely, or gives it away for charity, or--ahem! lends it to needy persons as 'appens to know 'im."

"Poor fellow! What a life! What is to become of him?" cried David, genuinely concerned.

"Oh, he's got all that set down in 'is book of fate, as he calls it. He says he's going to be 'anged some day. He's just as sure of it as he's sure he's alive."

"Just a morbid notion."

"Well, it's his antecedents, as the feller would say. In the family, so to speak. His father was 'anged for murder when d.i.c.k was eleven years old. I daresay it's got on 'is mind, poor lad."

"His father was hanged?" cried David, in a lowered tone. A swift shudder swept over him.

"He was," said Joey, refilling his pipe and preparing to scratch a sulphur match on his bandy leg. "And a good job it was, too. He was a 'ousebreaker, and he 'ad a wery gentle wife who prayed for 'im every night and tried to get 'im to give up the life on account of the children. One night he got drunk and shot a perfectly 'elpless old man whose 'ouse he was robbing. That's wot they swung 'im for. I daresay that's why d.i.c.k 'as never took to drink. He says it takes the polish off from a chap's ambition."

All this time, at the back of the "snack-stand" across the lot the Cronk brothers were engaged in earnest conversation, low-toned and serious, irascible on the part of the one, conciliatory on the part of the other.

"You know I give you half _always_, Ernie," said tall d.i.c.k, almost plaintively. "I never hold out on you."

"You say you don't," snarled the other between his teeth. "You got more than twenty dollars out of that guy last night, didn't you? I know you did."

"S' help me G.o.d, Ernie, I didn't get a--"

"He had nearly fifty dollars in the saloon."

"I don't know where it got to, then. I nipped only two tens, I swear, Ernie. Why, I wouldn't do you a dirty trick like that for the world."

"You done me a dirty trick once," grated the misshapen lad. "If it hadn't been for you I'd be as straight as anybody and I--"

"Don't begin on that again, Ernie," pleaded d.i.c.k. "Ain't you ever going to give me a rest on that? Ain't I trying to make up for it, the best I know how?"

"Yes, and didn't you let 'em catch you back there in Staunton? Is that the way you make it up? Letting me starve--almost." He glared at the ground. "Yes, if I was straight she'd look at me, too. She wouldn't look the other way every time I come around. Oh, you don't know how it feels! She'd go out walking with me instead of that Virginian smart aleck who killed his grandpa. But just see how it is, though! She won't look at me! She won't even look at me!"

A whole world of bitterness dwelt in that cry of despair.

"If I was straight like you, she'd--she might love me. She might marry me. Just think of it, d.i.c.k! I might get her." With the inconsistency of the selfishly irrational he added: "I've got plenty of money. I could give her fine clothes and--But, oh, what's the use? She hates to look at me. I--I hurt her eyes--yes, I hurt her eyes!"

It was pitiful. Greed and avarice had made a hateful little monster of him, and yet a heart of stone would have been touched by the misery in his eyes, the anguish on his lips. d.i.c.k murmured helplessly:

"May--maybe you can get her anyhow, Ernie. Maybe you can. Maybe--maybe."

But Ernie's emotion underwent a sudden change. Spitefulness leaped into his eyes; the wail of misery left his voice and in its place came shrill blasphemy. After he had cursed d.i.c.k and David Jenison to his heart's content he came to a standstill in front of his unhappy brother. Sticking out his lower jaw angrily he snapped:

"Where's the sapphire ring you got from the feller in Charlottesville?"

"I--I still got it."

"Oh, I see!" sneered Ernie, drawing back. "You're saving it to give to Ruby Noakes, eh? That's it, is it? Cheating me out of it to give to her. An engagement ring, eh? Say, you--"

"Hold on, Ernie," said d.i.c.k sternly. "I'm not going to do anything of the sort. Why--why, I couldn't give Ruby anything I'd stole. I couldn't!"