You Can Search Me Part 5

Skinski needed about $900 to pay for a couple of new illusions which were being built for him, and Bunch was appointed a committee to go down to Sixth Avenue and disburse the funds.

"I think we've got the real graft, don't you, Skinski?" I said, after the luncheon had been ordered.

"It's a pipe!" Skinski replied in pure United States, much to Bunch's surprise. From the name and the make-up I suppose Bunch expected Skinski to yelp in Bulgarian or throw out signals in Graeco-Roman.

Skinski was a warm member with the gab thing.

He got his start in life travelling with a medicine wagon in the West, and what he didn't know about the show business wasn't necessary.

"Say, people!" our star went on, "I've a couple of new card tricks up my sleeve that will leave the Reubens gasping for air. And when I pull my new illusion, ent.i.tled, 'Keno, or the Curious Cage,' on the public it will be a case of counting easy coin. Say! did I ever tell you about that gold mine I won in the West many moons ago?"

"Nix on the dream work, Skinski," I cut in. "We've put up our good money to start you, so let's get down to the programme."

"Oh! very well," said Skinski; "but I was down to see my brokers to-day in Wall Street and there are doings. I've got a plantation full of gold out near the Blue Hills, and----"

"Please don't smoke, there are ladies present!" admonished Bunch.

"Oh, very well!" said Skinski, and forthwith he launched into a description of his various tricks.

The waiter had just brought our luncheon when a large blondined shadow fell across the festive board, and Skinski jumped to his feet, followed by Bunch and yours surprisedly.

"Permit me!" Skinski said; "our new backers, Mr. Jefferson and Mr.

John Henry! this is Mademoiselle Dodo, the Human Guessworks. She's my a.s.sistant in the mind-reading tests, and she's all to the elegant. Will you feed the face, Dodey?"

"You betcher sweet!" Dodo replied, as she splashed into the chair provided by the waiter, while I glanced at Bunch sideways and found him on the verge of a fainting fit.

[Ill.u.s.tration: "You betcher sweet!"]

"I've told Dodey all about you two glad boys," Skinski went on, "and she's for you, ain't you, Dodey?"

"You betcher sweet!" Dodo chimed in, with a hungry glance at the cooked stuff.

"I told her we had a business meet on here, but if she wanted to squeeze in she wouldn't be in n.o.body's way," Skinski continued.

"Dodey's an awful clever girl, and she wouldn't be in this biz eight hours if that gold mine----"

"Sure, I know!" I interrupted; "possibly Mademoiselle is thirsty--a little wine, eh?"

"You betcher sweet!" the stout person replied, with a celerity that made Bunch sit up and look about the room to see if anyone suspected him.

"Dodey is always for the suds thing," Skinski chipped in. "But never to excess, never to excess. I never see Dodey lit up but once, and that was in Dayton, Ohio, the night we played to the janitor of the hall and his four children. When we came to the place where Dodey is blindfolded and does the decimal fractions stunt on the blackboard the janitor's oldest child fooled Dodey into doing all next week's lessons in arithmetic and Dodey fretted over it, didn't you, Dodey?"

"You betcher sweet!" the leading lady replied, with both eyes following the efforts of the waiter, who was opening a bottle of Pommery.

Bunch was beginning to get uneasy and I had a bad attack of fidgets.

"Say, Dodey!" our bright and shining light went on, "I want you to make a fuss over these two young gents, because they are the only nearly silk on the counter. They've put up their good cush to send me on tour without ever dragging me before a Police Justice to swear that I'm on the level, and if ever that gold mine----"

"Tush!" I interrupted. "I saw you work, Skinski, and you're a wonder; that's good enough for my money."

"Yes, but you never once put a sleuth over the back trail to throw the spot light on my past life," Skinski babbled on. "You're the first white man that ever took a chance with me without lashing me to the medicine ball, and I'll make good for you, all right, won't I, Dodey?"

"You betcher sweet!" she mumbled, with a mouth full of Pommery.

"Say!" said Skinski to me, after we had ordered some breadstuff for the leading lady, "you're not such a late train with the sleight-of-hand gag yourself, Mr. Manager!"

"Oh! I'm only a piker at it," I replied, modestly. "I can do a few moth-eaten tricks with the cards and I've studied out a few of the illusions, enough to know how to do them without breaking an ankle, but I'm not cute enough to be on the stage."

Skinski laughed, and Dodo looked over another gla.s.s of Pommery long enough to say, "You betcher sweet!"

"Well," said Skinski, leading a bevy of French-fried potatoes up to his moustache, "you'll know enough about it after I rehea.r.s.e you to go on and do the show when we hit a fried-egg burg, where there's only a Mr. and Mrs. Audience to greet our earnest endeavors. Say, boys, you'll get a lot of frica.s.seed experience trailing with this troupe, believe me!"

"I'm only going to be with you for a few days," I answered. "Mr.

Jefferson will be your permanent manager."

"The h.e.l.l I will!" spluttered Bunch. Then he got red in the face, glared at Dodo, and grouched out a "beg pardon!"

"You betcher sweet!" she replied, patting the Pommery.

"Say, John! you know well enough I can't leave New York for more than two or three days just at this time without having a good excuse to give Alice," Bunch growled, while Skinski and the Circa.s.sian lady put the knives to the chicken livers _en brochette_.

"How about me!" I snapped back. "I can't go out of town at all, except in the day-time. I'll have to duck back to Ruraldene after the show every evening or lose my card in the Happy Husbands'

Union. It's different with you, Bunch; you're not married yet."

"It isn't different at all," Bunch whipsawed me. "And you haven't any business to expect me to hike over the country with this outfit while you stay at home and read Bunyan's Pilgrim's Progress."

"I won't read that at all," I countered; "I'll read nothing but the ship news to see if you are stranded."

"Well, I won't do it!" snorted Bunch.

"You'll have to do it if you want to win out that wedding money," I retorted. "Is this the way you thank me for what I've done for you?"

"Done for me, nothing!" Bunch bit back. "I put up as much coin as you did, and now you want me to do all the work!"

"Work!" I echoed; "what work is it to count money, eh, Skinski?"

"Counting money is a hot pastime, isn't it, Dodey?" he answered.

"You betcher sweet!" responded the fair lady, gazing dreamily at the empty flagon of Pommery.

"Well, take my word for it," snarled Bunch, "I don't hanker for that sort of amus.e.m.e.nt. If there's any train-hopping to be done, it's up to you, John. It's your game, not mine."

"Say, are you going to welsh on me now that we've pa.s.sed over our contract to Skinski?" I asked hotly.

"No, I'm not going to welsh," Bunch came right back, "but I'm only a silent partner in this concern, so you for the Bad Lands to do the barking for the show."

"Why didn't you flash this stingy talk on me before we got started?" I wanted to know. "It's a shine play to wait till you get me all tied up with these artists here!"

Skinski and Dodo both took a bow.