TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP.

Poverty Bay Herald, Volume XXXIV, Issue 11126, 27 July 1907, Page 1 (Supplement)

TWIXT THE CUP AND THE LIP.

Old man Barlow clumped wearily across the square, and, entering the little park m the centre of it, sank disconsolately on to a bench. It was that hour of the afternoon when the place was well-nigh deserted, save for the groups of gossiping nurse maids who chatted excitedly m a babel of tongues, while their small charges, left to their own devices, ran whooping up and down the gravel paths or, with many nervous shrieks and giggles, took momentary shower-baths, like so many little sparrows, at the fountain. He was tired out, mentally and physically, for an even passable simulation of epilepsy makes strenuous demands upon its perpetrator. Though, as m the case of old man Barlow, the simulator be a finished artist. Sixty-seven cents for three full-time, harrowing, heartrending fits was, to his mind, but little short of an outrage. He shoved the coins viciously into his pocket. A moment later the sound of footsteps on the gravel prompted him to look up. Standing before him and smiling down at him whimsically was a stout, pleas-ant-faced man, whom old man Barlow recognised as a passing acquaintance of his, one Shorty Ryan, with whom he was wont to discuss business m a certain basement further down down, where the click of the taps and the odor of malt were joys forever. "Howdy, daddy," was Mr Ryan's pleasant salutation. "You look softer et-up with trouble. What's wrong? Business failin' otn 7

"Business !' the man on the bench snorted m contempt. "It's on the ker. bung. There ain't none. Three times to-day I've done my damnedest— and what have I got for it? That!" he exclaimed sorrowfully, again hauling out the contents of his pocket for inspection. "An' two of them shiners plugged at that."

Mr Ryan, with a deprecatory chuckle; seated himself on the other end of the bench. "The trouble is, you're playin' a busted game, 0 daddy," he observed with much conviction. "It's ancient, dead, smells to heaven, as it were.. It's been exposed too often m the papers to have any chance of bringin' m the stuff now." -

' Old man Barlow scuffed his feet impatiently. "I oughter to know that, if anyone does," he growled. "Exactly," said the other with a nod. "Learnin' from bitter experience, as you have, Jt gets' me why you stick to it. What is there, for you m throwin' high-grade fits at something like fifteen cents apiece — if we count them two plugged shiners?" "There ain't nothin',"- Barlow answer-ed-morosely. "But what am I goin' td do? -I'm too old to' begin on anything new."

"Never too late to learn," quoted Ryan, airily. "I'm glad I ran across you to-day. I've had my eye peeled for you- for a week or so. Fact is, I've" got a little scheme up my sleeve an' I guess you'll fit, all right. ,r "Diviluge . her. I'm listening," said Barlow without enthusiasm.

Ryan ' laid his hand confidentially on the old man's shoulder: "Now, Bee here," he began, "what's the matter with this? You're crossin' a street, an' I comes spinnin' along m a puff cart. You're- old an' feeble an' dodderin' an' you get confused. You stop an' look around. I'm close on to you, an' I honk the horn an' holler for all .Via worth. You start, then stop, then start again, an' get all mixed up. Then she hits you ah" you let out a scream. Anybody that can throw a fit as you oughter to be able to do it fine. You'll know how to jump an' double up an' go down groaning, all right. You lay there m the street an' keep groain' to the crown to get the num. ber — see?"*

"Go on," said old man Barlow shortly as the other paused. "Well, while I'm speedin' off without stoppin'," Ryan went on, "there'll be "plenty of the. crowd that's got the number, an' — get wise to, this now— it ain't going to be the number that belongs to that machine. It's, going to belong to a machine that is owned by a man uptown—a man that's got all kinds of money an' keeps more puff, carts an' chauffeurs than he can keep run of; a man that hates notoriety an' is willin' to cough up when one of his puf£,carts upsets an inoffensive old man. Do yoa get it? We split, me an' you, an' after a time we work it on somebody else of the same kind,"

Old man Barlow's rheumy eyes lighted up eagerly. "That ain't so bad," he declared. "Let's get after it right away. When do you say ? To-morrow's good enough for mine. I need the money."

The following morning old man Barlow stood on a street corner farther downtown watching the various vehicles that rattled past m an unending line. His eyes, peering up the street, scanned particularly every approaching motor-car. "She s going to be black an' her number TI be 0087," he repeated many times to himself. "Seems to me it's about time for that cuss .to show up. He hadn't ought to keep me waitin' here forever." .

Presently a black car came into view. Barlow, peering at it intently, felt his pulse quicken, for the tag swinging to and fro from the middle of the front axle bore the number 0087.

"Git on to his make-up," the old man chuckled, taking m every detail of the man at the steering wheel. "Ain't that the limit — fur coat an' goggles an', by the livin' fishes, a false beard. He's nil E added out, too. Looks three times as ig as he'bughter. Say, that boy's all right." The black car was rapidly approaching. When it had nearly reached the" crossing, Barlow quitted his post on the curb and began to hobble across the street directly m the path of the oncoming car. The horn honked wildly; the man m the car shouted an excited warning. Barlow had time for only one brief yell of agonised surprise. "Hi, there, you damn bungler" — he was bellowing m genuine fright, when the x car hit him. He was lifted from the ground, flung violently to the left, and landed m a huddled, quivering heap m the gutter. Sometime later od Barow opened his eyes and looked dizziy around at the unfamiliar surroundings. He was lying m a soft white bed m a large and scrupulously clean room. A trim white-aproned nurse sat by a little table rolling up lengths of bandages. The old man put a shaking hand to his head and found it swathed m linen ; his left forearm was rigidly bound m splints and bits of sticking plaster nearly covered his weather-beaten features. '

"Say, lookee here, what's the matter with me?" Barlow questioned thickly. "How'd I get here, an' where am I, anyway?" "Now, don't be alarmed," the nurse replied soothingly. "You're not badly hurt. You'H Toe all right m. a little while. You were hit by an automobile this morning. You've heard perhaps of Mr Meriwether? Well, it was one of his cars that hit you, and, as it happened, Mr Meriwether was driving it himself. He picked you up and brougbt you here as fast as possible. This is a private hospital that Mr Meriwether has endowed heavily, and he has left orders that you are to have the best of care and that you are to want for nothing." Old man Barlow sucked m his breath m a gasp of surprise. "Then 'twarn't Shorty Ryan that hit me?" he asked. "Shortly Ryan?" the nurse repeated with a little uncomprehending frown. Barlow saw his stupidity at once, and pressed his free hand while he closed his eyes wearily. "My head's terrible dizzy," he remarked pointedly. "I dunno jest what I said."

For three weeks the old man lay at the hospital, living on the fat of the land, smoking good cigars and recovering all too rapidly _to suit his own ideas. On the day before his departure from the hospital, a dapper little man came bustling into the room and drew a chair close to the window, where old Barlow sat dozing. - "I'm Mr Meriwether's attorney*" the little man announced with no waste of words. "Now m regard to this matter of your injury — Mr Meriwether has instructed me to make a settlement with yon. His terms will be most liberal. Five hundred dollars is what he offers for a complete release from responsibility. How does that strike you — satisfactory?" Old man Barlow sat up and pinched himself to made sure that be was awake. Nevertheless his innate shrewdness was not caught napping. "I'd been thienkin' of a thousand," he began tentatively. "Five hundred is the maximum," snapped the little man with finality. Barlow ruminated for a time. "I s'pose, theja, I'll have to accept your five hundred," he said resignedly, yet with a light m his eyes that belied his doleful cast of countenance.

"You are very wise, sir," the attorney replied, "Now if you will kindly eigj

these papers — ah, yes, very good. Thank you!" He gathered up the papers wthout fur. ther adieu and departed, leaving m old man Barlow's hands a pile of crisp vms which he fingered over and over, scarce daring to believe m their reality. "Five hundred plunks!" he chuckled, "an" no split comin' with Shortly. Well, say !"

Two weeks after his discharge from the hospital, Barlow came poking into the basement were the clink of taps and the smell of malt were perennial delights. Scarcely had he taken his seat at one of the tables and grandly ordered a flowing stein, when Shorty Ryan came puffing m and strode angrily to the old man's side.

' "Howdy, Shorty?" said the latter with a smile that was beautiful to behold.

Mr Ryan plumped into a chair and stared at the other for a moment m frowning silence.

"_ou're a bird!" he blurted out at last. Couldn't you tell that warn't me m that puff cart? You done me a nice turn, you did, gettin' run down ,by Meriwether, an' me comin' along a minute later with the same number on my car, an' havin' to cough up a good cold, fifty to a fly cop, who boarded me, before I could square him for showin' the wrong number." "Calm yourself, Shorty,'" Barlow said grandiloquently. . "Admittin', now, that, owin' to my failin' sight, I made a slight mistake- — "

"Cut that," Ryan interrupted. "You got a god wad out of this, an' you're goin' to split with me— see? What did you get out Meriwether after he took you to that hospital?" 'Five hundred,"? said old man Barlow with an innocence thai seemed seraphic. . Old man Barlow's head drooped slowly m well-simulated shame. His face was a picture of abject misery. - "I dropped the whole o' that wad night before hist on Aby Meyer's roulette wheel, ' he almost whispered. In Ryan s eyes was doubt. An apoplectic red crept up his. neck and suffused his face. Barlow watched him with a sweetly sympathetic smile. "Ain't it a shame, Shorty," he observed with a quiet chuckle, "that such a nice feller as Aby is, runs a crooked wheel?"