Blister Jones Part 18

A TIP IN TIME

Blister was silent as we left the theater. I had chosen the play because I had fancied it would particularly appeal to him. The name part--a characterization of a race-horse tout--had been acceptably done by a competent young actor. The author had hewn as close to realism as his too clever lines would permit. There had been a wealth of Blister's own vernacular used on the stage during the evening, and I had rather enjoyed it all. But Blister, it was now evident, had been disappointed.

"You didn't like it?" I said tentatively, as I steered him toward the blazing word "Rathskeller," a block down the street.

"Oh, I've seed worse shows," was the unenthusiastic reply. "I can get an earful of that kind of chatter dead easy without pryin' myself loose from any kale," he added.

I saw where the trouble lay. The terse expressive jargon of the race track, its dry humor just beneath its hard surface, might delight the unsophisticated, but not Blister. To him it lacked in novelty.

"I ain't been in one of these here rats ketchers fur quite a while,"

said Blister, as we descended the steps beneath the flambuoyant sign.

"Do you go to shows much?" he asked, when two steins were between us on the flemish oak board.

"Not a great deal," I replied. "I did dramatics--wrote up shows--for two years and that rather destroyed my enjoyment of the theater."

"I got you," said Blister. "Seein' so much of it spoils you fur it.

That's me, too. I won't cross the street to see a show when I'm on the stage."

Had he suddenly announced himself king of the Cannibal Islands I would have looked and felt about as then. I gazed at him with dropping jaw.

"No, I ain't bugs!" he grinned, as he saw my expression. "I'm on the stage quite a while. Ain't I never told you?"

"You certainly have not," I said emphatically.

"I goes on the stage just because I starts to cuss a dog I owns one day," said Blister. "It's the year they pull off one of these here panic things, and believe me the kale just fades from view! It you borrow a rub-rag, three ginnies come along to bring it back when you're through. If you happens to mention you ain't got your makin's with you, the nearest guy to you'll call the police. They wouldn't have a hoss trained that could run a mile in nothin'.

"A dog out on gra.s.s don't cost but two bucks a month. It seems like the men I'm workin' fur all remembers this at once. When I'm through followin' s.h.i.+ppin' instructions I'm down to one mutt, 'n' I owns him myself. He's some hoss--I don't think. He's got a splint big as a turkey egg that keeps him ouchy in front half the time, 'n' his heart ain't in the right place. I've filled his old hide so full of hop you could knock his eyes off with a club, tryin' to make him cop, but he won't come through--third is the best he'll do.

"One day about noon I'm standin' lookin' in the stall door, watchin'

him mince over his oats. They ain't nothin' good about this dog--not even his appet.i.te. I ain't had a real feed myself fur three days, 'n'

when I sees this ole counterfeit mussin' over his grub I opens up on him.

"'Why, you last year's bird's nest!' I says to him. 'What th' h.e.l.l right have you got to be fussy with your eats? They ain't a oat in that box but what out-cla.s.ses you--they've all growed faster'n you can run! The only thing worse'n you is a ticket on you to win. If I pulls your shoes off 'n' has my choice between you 'n' them--I takes the shoes. If I wouldn't be pinched fur it I gives you to the first nut they lets out of the bughouse--you sour-bellied-mallet-headed-yellow pup! You cross between a canary 'n' a mud-turtle!'

"That gets me sort-a warmed up, 'n' then I begins to really tell this dog what the sad sea waves is sayin'. When I can't think of nothin'

more to call him, I stops.

"'Outside of that he's all right, ain't he?' says some one behind me.

"'No,' I says, 'he has other faults besides.'

"I turns round 'n' there's a fat guy with a cigar in his face. He's been standin' there listenin'. He's got a chunk of ice stuck in his chest that you have to look at through smoked gla.s.ses. He's got another one just as big on his south hook. Take him all 'n' all he looks like the real persimmon.

"'Do you own him?' says the fat guy.

"'You've had no call to insult a stranger,' I says. 'But it's on me--I owns him.'

"'I'm sorry you've got such a bad opinion of him,' he says. 'I was thinkin' of buyin' him.'

"I looks around fur this guy's keeper--they ain't n.o.body in sight.

"'This ain't such a bad hoss,' I says. 'Them remarks you hears don't mean nothin'. They're my regular pet names fur him.'

"'I'd like to be around once when you talk to a bad one,' says the guy.

'Now look a-here,' he says. 'I'll buy this horse, but get over all thoughts of makin' a sucker out of me. What do you want for him? If you try to stick me up--I'm gone. The woods is full of this kind.

Let's hear from you!'

"'Fur a hundred I throws in a halter,' I says.

"'You've sold one,' says the guy, 'n' peels off five yellow men from a big roll.

"When I've got the kale safe in my clothes, I gets curious.

"'What do you want with this hoss?' I says.

"'He's to run on rollers in a racing scene,' he says.

"'Well,' I says, 'some skates has rollers on 'em, maybe they'll help this one. G.o.d knows he ain't any good with just legs!'

"'He's plenty good enough for his act,' says the guy. 'And say, I want another one like him, and a man to go on the road with 'em. Can you put me wise?'

"'How much would be crowded towards the party you want, Sat.u.r.day nights?' I says.

"'Twenty dollars and expenses,' says he.

"'Make it thirty,' I says. 'Travelin's hard on them that loves their home.'

"'We'll split it,' he says. 'Twenty-five's the word.'

"'My time's yours,' I says.

"'How about the other horse?' says the fat guy.

"'You'll own him in eight minutes,' I says. 'Stay here with Edwin Booth till I get back.'

"I hustles down the line 'n' finds Peewee Simpson was.h.i.+n' out bandages--that's what he'd come to.

"'You still got that sorrel hound?' I says to him.

"'Nope,' says Peewee. 'He's got me. I'm takin' in was.h.i.+n' to support him.'

"'Brace yourself fur a shock,' I says. 'I'll give you real money fur him.'

"Peewee looks at me fur a minute like you done a while ago.

"'Don't wake me up!' he says. 'I must--' then he stops 'n' takes another slant at me. 'Say!' he says, 'I'll bet you've got next! I ain't told you yet--who put you hep?'

"'Hep to what?' I says.