Five Cent Wide Awake Library (vol. 1) (1881 06 13)
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Entered according to Aot of. cums the. year 1879,by FRANK’ TOUSEY, tn the office ofthe Tébrerian ef Congress, at Washington, D. o. meat TOUSEY. stinks Sth, Short a Search of His Dad. I PETER PAD. te cee ie boss boy; sus suber and’ om. fun and adventure, t Poe rackets and Aisr ahs than any o' .|prised at readin ae letter whi hh he wro' Tre uthor, Sade which we Bh stating o > Snbs: een prices "3 r yea: { 5 OnN'TS. t _ Vol. 1F; Leane RuRSOND Shorty himeclf peti ‘he thought of it, but having Reaah else to occapy mind for the time being,and feeling a trifle romantic on accountgof having read a Roneic ew Yorkjwherein a waif somewhat like himselt ) ly{found his father, he begin to think of his le thd to wonder where his father was. and the firmer became his resolution to find him and 7h - | that he would give him the particulars of what has | see wt od peek him Ne? the past year see what he was like. His memory ran back over his checkered life, and a2 a natural consequence it dwelt as heavy as
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3 ip Roe ena ane woarding-house flapjack upon Coram, the spot where he was first “taken in’ by the overseer of the poor, ‘on whose doorstep he had been left by somebody to. become a jolly waif and comical outcast. The very spot. in fact, where the readers of Zhe Boys of New York first made his acquaintance. If anybody knew anything abou’ him, this over- seer of the poor must be the man, and so his first move was to visit him for information. » I wish the reader could go back to that overseer’s house and see all the surroundings at the time when the barking dog first aroused Mrs, Bilberry to prod her husband to see what it was he was barking at, when investigation produced an odd-looking bundle jying on their front stoop, the center of which was fhorty, then a curious-looking kid; if you could only go back (as you can by reading “‘Shorty; or, Kicked into Good Luck,”) you could undeistand the situa- tion much better. Without saying @ word to anyone, he made his way to Coram, and called upon the cld overseer of the poor, whom he had not seen for thirty years al- most. : - He and his wife occupied the same house, lived in the same style; he was still overseer of the poor,and they even had a son of the old yellow dog (himself 2n old dog now,) who introduced Shorty by barking at him, as he lay wrapped in a bundle on the door- ste) ieee about noon. when he arrived ‘at the old house, The old vellow dog began to bark when he got within a quarter of a mile of the place, and kept it up until he reached the front gate, when he slunk away behind the house, where he continued barking until after tha old woman had kicked hini several times, ; here was something about the place that looked ' familiar to him, and for a moment Shorty felt his heart coming up so that he could almost bite it, for these were the scenes of his earliest recollec- tions. : He pounded upon the front door smartly, but he had to do so three or four times before he could _ make en et hear him, Then an old man came to the door, followed by an old woman. He held an old serap of a story paper in his hand, that might have been the same one hie was reading on that night thirty years ago, when Shorty was left on his stoop, and if he had not yet learned the scrap of romarice by heart, he had probably not yet settled in his mind how the story turned out, any more than he had on that eventful occasion. But they were both changed so by age, that Shorty did not know them, although he took it for granted that they were Mr. and Mrs, Bilberry, and so he.ad- dressed them while they stood there with open eyes and mouths gazing at the queer-looking, nobbily dressed little man whosmiled upon them. “Halioo! be you Mr. Billberry?” he asked. “Waal, yas. Who mought yu be?” queried the old man, while the yellow dog ventured near enough to orell of Shorty’s shins. “Me? I might be the Count Joannes or the Cardiff Giant, but I arn’t. I’m Shorty.” “Yu don’t go for tu say sol’ 7 “Yes, Ido,” said he, giving the dog a kick. “Waal, who’s Shorty?” asked the old woman, “Don’t know who Shorty is! Must_be yer educa- tion’s been neglected. Let mein an’ I'll tell yer who J be, an’ see if yer know more’n I do.” “Don’t you let him in, Jehial, for he may be a rob- ber or a masked burglar or somethin’,”’ said the old woman, in alarm. — ee “Oh, ye’re allus goin’ off half-cocked, ole woman, Come in, Mr. Shorty—come in,” and he flung the door wide open, while she retired to the other end of the entry, and promised the dog a pint of skimmed milk if he would only keep his eye on the mysterious stranger. Sa f ou The old man led him into the sitting-room, and mo- tioned Shorty to a seat, at the same time carefully putting away his scrap of story paper for future reading. Aa i “Well. how yer was, ole man?” “Potty smart, thank ye; how be yu be?” “Good as gold. Yer don’t know me?” “Waal, no; can’t say I du ’zactly,’’ said he, putting on his glasses. - “How’s yer memory?”’ “Waal, not bad. Why?’ “Can yer work her back thirty years?” “Waal, yes; I guess so. Why!’’ SS “Remember a little rant that wasleft on yer door- Berar that time ago?” asked Shorty. “Lemme see—ole woman, du yu hear what he says®”’ asked Mr. Billberry, turning to his wife. “Why, Lord bless us, Jehial, dont yer remem- ber ¢hat thar good-for-nothin’ little coot? I re- member him right smart,” said the old woman, sharply. _ “Good for yer noddle, ole gal,” said Shorty, laugh- ing. : “Now, come tu think on if, 1du remember that little cuss. We put him into the poorliouse, whar they tried tu make somethin’ out er him, but eouldn’t, an’ then bound him out tu Farmer Snateh- er, whar he raised the very devil, an’ finally ran away, the Lord knows whar tu. Oh, yes; I temem- ee, him, the little rascal. Wish I could see him agin, “Der yer whistle it good an’ strong, ole man?” ““Yas; in course I’d like ter see him.’ _ “So would J, the queer little sucker,’’ added Mrs, ‘Billsberry, who was getting interested in the matter. “Waal, wipe up yer voggles,”’ said Shorty, thrust- ing his thumbs into the armholes of his vest and squaring himself in the chair. “What!” : “Yu don’t go for ta say that yua——” “I'm the same,sardine,” SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. Gy 7 ‘Jerusalem crickets!” “Waal, 1 vow tu gracious. Can-it be oer gaid the old woman, rubbing her spectacles end ap- proaching to get a closer look at Shorty. “Not much. [’m goin’ ter send yer to college, arn goit’lone. Yer too fresh, sonny.” “Syidn’t I allus brace up ter yer?” “‘Yes, when ver could play a racket on me.” y “Waal, what's der use of havin’ a dad, if yer cans “Sure’s yer born, ole gal. How d’yer like tact? [Rey rackets on him? Wouldn’t yer play rackets on “Waal—waal—waal | Wonders’ll never cease on} yer own dad if yer could find him? Course you this ere created ’arth. But yu haven’t grown muenj woud. arter all,” said the old man, looking him over. | horty latghed in spite of his earnestness, for he “Not much, Been too busy ter grow. But whatI| knew very well what he would do if he hada want ter find out is, der yer know who my dad is?" 4 chance. : Pi f 1 “Gracious me! no, I——~” While this conversation had been going on Shorty Why, “Hold on, Jehial. Don't yer remember that thar | had settled in his mind what course he would take. little fat gentleman that called on us ’bout ten year | Bat above all things, he determined to keep his ago?” ° eye out fora short. fat old man who corresponded “Why, of course! Nice-lookin’ little ole chap; en* § with the description he had received of the man he was tryin’ tu find out somethin’ ’bout a founcia” | sha went to the poorhouse to make inquiries regard- as was left in the town of Coram *bout thirty year} ing a foundling, whose description tallied with hie ago?” own, 5 > “Yes: an’ don’t yu mind, Jehial, he said as now | And it was’ only the next day, while he was out hé was’a little fintish sort of a kid? added his taking a wali on Broadway, shat’ his attention was attracted by a dumpy little old fellow who was trudg- himself very agreeabis toa maid, who was walking with wife. “That's so.” ‘*Well, did he leave his card?” “Lord, no. We didn’t know who he war arter.” “No; never thought ’bout yer.”’ “By the great jimmini jimerack, i bet that was my dad!’’ said Shorty, thoughtfully. “More’n likely. But if we’d a known it, we couldn’s tell him anything whar tu find yer.” “Go over his make-up, an’ do it slow,” said Shorty, greatly interested; whereupon the old man gave him as good a description of him as he possibly could. “Guess dat was de ole man, dead sure. Don’t know where he went to, or where he hailed from?” “Not a thing; nothin’, only what I’ve told yu. But tell us somethin’ *bout yerself,” said the old woman. Shorty told them a tremendous cock and bull story about himself, at which the eyes and mouths of the old couple opened wider and wider, until they looked ag though their heads were all going to pieces. But the old spirit of mischief was on him, and as he finished his yarn, during wnich that. yellow dog had become exceedingly familiar, and was nosing around him, Shorty slyly slipped a spring clothes- pin on his tail, and he commenced ki-yi-ing and run- ning around the room as though possessed of the devil, while the old couple themselves got panic- stricken. : te “Lordy messy Jehial,-what ails the dorg?” “Bless me if | know. Here, Wolferine, be still. What in tarnation is the matter with yu?” But the dog wouldn’t tell him if he knew. His par- ticular business wasto getawayfrom a mysterious something that was pinching his tail. “Plague take the on’ry cuss, what ails him?” apenas he’s got the hydrophobia,’ suggested horty. “Oh, Lord—oh, Lord!” cried both of them, and ee was lively scrambling to get on top of the ta- 8, “Look out for him, Mr. Shorty; he'll bite yu!” “Yes—yes, look out!” 73 : “Oh, I’m all hunky punky; I know how ter jerk the hydra right out er dorgs; cured dozens of ’em,” said he; and making a dive for the cur who was now go- ing around in a circle,trying to reach his tail with his mouth, he removed the pinching{clothes-pin, and of course the brute was all right again. { ‘‘Sakes alive, look out!” « . “Oareful, Mr. Shorty!” “Oh, he’s all right now. Easiest thing in der world ter cure ’em if yer only know how.” “Be yu sure he’s allright?” they both asked, “Plumb sure,” d At this they attempted to get down from the table, but in doing so they tipped it over and both tumbled over upon the dog, who rai howling from the room. x ae nook pone felipe WAS pantots ported sean saf- pen rty chatted with them pleasantly fora| “Nha—da, papa. Be goud to mama!” he called few moments longer and then took his leave. }, where : He hadn’t learned much beyond the fact that a on Uae ASN RE COGN OR de ot ak strange little man had called about a strange little waif some ten years before, but whether he was the one called for, or whether he would ever know any more regarding him or himself than he now knew, wasaproblem ‘ But he had enjoyed a little fun, and seen the old couple who first introduced him to the world, and that repaid him pretty well, although his mind was made up to find his dad or perish in the attempt. Returning to the city he informed Shorty, Jr., for the first time,of what he had done and what he pro- based to do, which tickled the Kid al:nost to,convul- SiONS. ae 3 ing along, and rere very precise little ol him. : _ Shorty took a good look at him. “Stang meif der ole rooster arn’t got der amily Sone putty bad, chinnin’ sweet ter der gals, Wonder if 1 looks like him?’ he mused, as he toddled behind them. In truth, he did look like the old fellow somewhat, and people who met them turned around and looked back at what they regarded as a family of shortys, although our little friend was much louder in his dress than the other one was, $ 4s ke followed them up, he was trying to thinx how he could attract the old fellow’s attention, The wind was blowing PCH: fresh, and every now and then her dress would sweep against his legs, which little favor on the part of the wind seemed to please him very much, and he would crowd up all the closer to her like.a purring old tom cat, _ Shorty noticed this, and being close behind them in the crowd, he took the hook end of his cane, and thrusting it quickly between the old fellow’s legs, he caught hold of his lady’s dress, and drawing it back, the old man caught his foot in it and tumbled odwn, pulling her on top of him, while Shorty disengaged is cane before he was discovered, He went down with a grunt, and she with a squeal, knocking the wind nearly out of him,’ while she lost nearly all hers from fright. LP Shorty flew to their assistance. “Halloo, dad! did you tumble down?” he asked, helping the terrified and disgusted maiden to her feet, and then seizing the old chap for a like service. “Oh-oh-oh!”’ the old fellow grunted, “Did it hurt yer, daddy?” asked Shorty, looking at him with a comical mug. ; “What the dickens do you mean, sir?” ; “Oh, Mr. Goshér!” exclaimed the ancient maiden, raising her voice and hands in surprise. “What is it, dear Miss Fluter?”” ‘Did that horrible creature call you father?” ‘No; I only called him dad for short.” “You rascal, what do you mean?” “Well, arn’t you my dad?” - “No, sir. Go away about your business, sir, or I will have you arrested, sir,’ said he, savagely. “J’m in search of a dad. Didn’t yer ever have a kid somethin’ like yerself dat yer lost, left or give away ter a poor-house?” “You impudent scoundrel! No, sir, never.”” “Sure pop? I'll leave it ter der ole hen here, it yer don’t look like my kind of areoster. What dyer , “Oh—oh, Mr. Gosher!”’ she almost screamed, “Don’t mind him, Miss Fluter. Let us pass sloag and get out of the crowd,’”and he offered her his arm for the purpose of doing so, | This was too much for the maiden sensibilities of Miss Finter, and releasing her arm from his she hail- ed a passing stage, and getting into it, left the be- wildered old beau standing there looking as foolish as a loon. If he could have got hold of Shorty just then he would undoubtedly have given him a fatherly spanking, whether he was any related to him or not. : Shorty knew this and skipped out. “Dat’s my fust try,” he mused. “Some fun but not much parental feelin’, I guess,” and he walked away laughing. AT oi The next day “Nonsense, Pop, yer rollin? off yer cabase. Der he and the Kid were out together, as na idea of yer ever having a dad! Yer losin’ yer grip, | they went nearly every day fora walk Shorty, Jr., ole man,” said the second edition of Shorty. | had a sort of a Sooner dog witli him. a mengrel cur ‘| that he had picked up somewhere, and although Shorty whacked him with his cane whenever he could get a chance, yet he persisted in following them just as though he was the handsomest dog in New York. fen They continued on, laughing, Salking, or playing ranks with people they met until uhey reache? the Stara Central Depot. Y “Say, pop, Je’s go in an’ see what's goin’ on,” sald * the Kid. — Te r “See what’s goin’ on] See. what’s goin’ out yer mean ter stutter, don’t yer?” ce Ue “All right. Have yer whistle.) Come on."" t “They entered the huge depot and walked eareicz~ ly through the” waiting-rooms, crowded with Das- sengers, and finally an old countryman with a tong, lean carpet bag attracted their attention. a He had a thoroughly frightened look on his face that would have attracted the attention of anybody., let alone such a fellew as Shorty. 3 “T say, yu, I wonder if that ar train has gone ter cull. What’er yer givin’ me?” “Oh, cheese it, < } fresh wind,” “Take a run ’round der block an’ get said the Kid, laughing. — ‘Put yer taffy on ice! Of course I had a dad, an’ he lost me when I’s too young to bléw him up for his carelessness, an’ now I’m going ter hunt him up. Maybe he’s rich; who knows? f “Dat’s so. Who knows but he’s a minister?” “Or a deacon?” “Oran alderman?” “Ora banker?” “Orason of a gun, eh?” ; “Oh, laceup yer gash! I’m goin’ ter find out what ne is. ‘“aVhere yer goin’ ter begin, pop?” ‘Right here in New York, an’ if I don’t turn his royal nibs up here, I'll travel till I do, sure.” “Bully for you, Lemme go long an’ help yer!” “‘No; yer’d spoil everythin’ wid yer deviltry.” “Tet’s start a show an’ travel "round dat way,” | suggested the little fellow, with a grin.
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. 3 eee ON Tee EhTOTOOOOOooNoo” Scudderville?”" he asked, of a man, buf that person turned away with the remark that"he was nota time table, leaving the old fellow staring after him. od “Right this way for Scudderville!"’ shouted Shorty, pointing out of the street’ door, f “Yes—yes, I'm here—l’m yoin’ ter Scudderville,” gaid the old fellow, making a dive out of the door. About a dozen of the waiting passengers joined with the two Shortys ina laugh. ‘The old fellow ran bp and down the sidewalk wildly inquiring where the train was that went to Scudderville. “Round on der.udder side of der depot,” said |~ Shorty, Jr., going out and hailing him, That anxions and bewildered countryman (who was an hour ahead of time at least) started on a run around the huge building, dodging this way and that to avoid people on the walk, and actually kept on un- til he had made his way entirely around the building and once more rushed panting into the waiting-room where he had started from, and his cry still was:. “Whar’s that ar train for Scudderville?” Shorty was just on the point of getting him on another “string” when his attention was attracted to a dapper fellow who was trying to crowd his way tothe door to get on board a train that was on the point of leaving. Shorty happened to be standing just right, and so did Shorty, Jr.’s dog. He,gave the cur a kick which gent him between the dandy’s legs, and down he went on top of a basket of choice fruit that he was carrying, smashing it into mush, With a seven acre curse he arose to his feet and made a kick atthe dog. He didn’t hit the dog, but he hit a policeman, who wheeled around and gave him about eighteen inches of the extract of club, Just then the old countryman rushed he “How ‘bout that ar train for Seudderville?” “Oh, ram, jam, cram and slam Scuddervillet” ex- claimed the disgusted dandy, who was famishing for dog meat, for he had not only missed his train, but ‘had spoiled his fruit and got a whack with @ police- Yaan’s club, all on account of that innocent cur, “Whar’s the train tu Scudderville?” “Tt don’t start for an hour yet,’’ said the police officer, pushing him back, i “Waal, I swan. Yu don’t say so,’’and then he turned to tell his troubles to somebody else. ‘This ar York is the alfirdest town Tever struck yet. Yer éan’t find oat nuthin’ from nobody. Goin’ tu Seud- derville?”’ ; s “No, sir, Lam not going to Scudderville,” said the man he had been boring, at the same time turning away. : : "Oh, didn’t know but yuwar. Putty good many folks live up tu Scudderville,” said he. The man said something that sounded like ‘tram Scudderville,” and the old fellow tackled somebody else, While this was going on, the Albany express train backed into the depot to take its passengers. “All aboard for Scudderville!”’ shouted Shorty, “Hold on! Lemme out; I want tu git on board them ar Scndderville cars,” exclaimed the old fel- low, making a rush towards the door which shut out the train, and in doing so he stepped on three or four toes belonging to other passengers, to say nothiug of those he incommoded and pushed around, : The result was that they howled at him, cursed him, and finally took his old lank carpet-bag away from him and pounded him over the head with it un- til the policeman dragged him out of the way and made him sit,down in a corner by himself. In the meantime ony had spotted an old fellow who was just rpabing through the crowd\/to get to the train, the last bell having sounded, Fives say, Kid, clap yer ogles on his nibs,” said orty. What! yer der dead image of dat ole rooster. Go for him!” said Shorty, Jr... = “Bo Iwill. Dil bet dat’s my dad!” saying which he made a break to catch up with him just as he went through the door. - ; Shorty, Jr. followed, and the dog after him, The train was just moving out, and the old fellow was legging it to catch upon the hind car. Shorty seized him by tho conat-tail. ‘ “Hold on, daddy!” “Hold on, randpop!” chimed Shorty, Jr:, catch- ing hold of Shorty’s coat-tail at the same time. CHAPTER II. “Conrounp you, let me alone!” yelled the old man, whose hand was almost clutching the hand-rail of the Moving car. “Hold on; yer. my dad!” cried Shorty. Yer my gran’dad!” chimed Sh ONT Jr., while the dogsyelbe out something as though he, too, claimed a relationship. “Took out, I—" The next instant the old fellow tripped, fell, rolled over, avd tumbled down the car-pit, Shorty falling on top of him, Shorty, Jr. falling on top of him, and 5 waoe landing on the top of the Kid, but not badly urt. = ag That was no poke, for they all fell quite a distance, although the fat old fellow got the worst of it. But there was little to choose between them, for a more muchly battered crowd seldom, if ever, picked them- selves up alone. The old man rattled off a string of oaths so rapidly that he could not be understood until he came to “eonfound sour little doggoned. onry pate! what the devil did you catch hold of me for?’ “I wanted yer,” said Shorty. "Yes, we wanted yer;’ ,added Shorty, Jr,, who sat On top of him. 4 | fous © “No, yer wouldn’t kick yer own flesh and blood, “Confound ow I'll kick you all to pieces; Vl kill What the—” would yer?” asked Shorty, picking himself up. “Mesh and thunder! I’li be hanged if I don’t” “Better git up on yer pins first, dad; and Shorty attempted to assist him. “You young scoundrels! why, I—I wouldn’t have missed that train for fifty dollars.” “Au’T wouldn’t have missed you for a hundred,” said Shorty, helping him up. 7 “What the devil do you mean?” “Don’t yer recognize me? Don’t der voice of nat- er rattle ‘round ’mong yer gizzard ’n things?” “Oonfound you, what are you talking about?” asked the old man, straightening up the best way he could, and taking a look at the two young rascals. “T think yer my dad, I does.” “Your what ?’’ exclaimed the old man, opening his eyes and staggering back. “Tm in search of my dad——”’ “Well. why in thunder don’t you go and find him Hed z What the devil are you fooling around me ‘or “Don’t we look *nough ‘like ter be dad an’ son?” (What Me?” “Your father?” ‘ "Yes. ” “Well, if thought so, I’d commit suicide.” “Better send for der coroner right. away, boss,” said Shorty, Jr. recovering his crushed hat. “Who.the devil are you?” “I’m Shorty, Junior.” “Ah, you don’t say so. "And who are you?” he ask- ed, turning to este “Vm der ’riginal Shorty, Iam." “And who the devil may he: be?’ “Dat’s what I wants ter find out. I knows dat I’m Shorty; everybody. knows I’m Shorty, but I’m tryin’ ter find my dad.” “Yes, we wants ter find our pop,”’ put in Shorty, Jr, . “Oonfound you and your pop! I don’t know any- thing about your father. I never was anybody’s father in my life.” . “Boss—sure of that? Get yer thinker goin’.”’ “Oh, don’t go back on us, ole man!’ said the Kid, ly. “Bah! Go to the devil!” “Think Ud find him dere?” ‘Most likely, I’ve a great mind to have you ar- rested,”” ‘ “Oh, don’t do dat!” “No, don’t bust up two orphans dat way,’ put in iG Kid, who was trying to straighten out his crushed at. , : i . : “Confound you both for a pair of young rascals, Just see what you have done. Look at me, to say nothing of having missed the train. Why, I could kick you the whole length of this depot!” ‘ . “Don’t do dat,” said Shorty, piteously, ‘Why not?” ‘ : ‘Cause my dad never kicked me as I knows on, an’ 1 wouldn’t know whether it felt natural or not.” “Oh, thunder! Tl call an officer!” : The much abused and badly knocked-up old man took.his battered Hat from the porter who had picked it up, and gotten it into some sort of shape again, Then he recovered his carpet bag, al) the while curs- ing, and growling like a dog with a sore head, Then the porter assisted the two Shortys up on the platform, after which they helped him pull the old rooster up also. ‘ ‘ “Dere yer was, jus’ good’s new,” said Shorty, after they had got him up. oi “Oh, go to blazes! When does the next train go? “To blazes?” asked the porter, with a big grin, “No, to Tarrytown.” ‘©Bout an hour,” ; “And here I've got to wait that time all on your ac- count,” said he, turning to Shorty. “On, well, ivll take yer all. dat time ter get yerself slicked up,” he replied, laughing, __ . “Confound you, yes! and whose fault is it? , “‘Yours.’’ ’ “Mine?” i ‘ i a aan yer no business ter look so much like my ad! “Oh, bah!” exclaimed he, turning away, with an impatient gesture, y yee The'two Shortys and the porter laughed loudly. The old man turned and shook his fist at them. “Say! yer needn’t go off mad just ’cause yer arn’t my dad. I can't help it.’”’ *T"ll get an officer, yon scoundrels!” he called. ‘Don’t do dat, ole man, What yer huntin’ for is a long Jost son,” said Shorty. ; “Tl fix youl” ‘ t ‘Ta—tal” “Don’t bile over!” Jnst then a policeman hove in sight. “Cheese it, cull; there’s the cop!” said Shorty, Jr., and they both waltzed out of the depot in a hurry. “Well, ole man, how d’yer like it’s far’s yer got?” “What?” “Why, der daddy biz.” : i “Not much. But I’m goin’ter keep at it til I bust or find him,”’ said Shorty, resolutely. “Yer'll go bust fust; bet on it!’ “Ah, money’s nothin’, I’m sighin’ fer a parent,” said Shorty. “Why not try a bottle of ‘Seltzer Apparent,’ ole man? Maybe that'll fix yon,” said the Kid. “Oh, go choke yerself! Ner got no filial yearnin’s, Yer only a ‘choker,’ dat’s all.” “Ob, yar jokin’ me, ole man, But, I say, les’ go in an’ see if ole Scuddervillé’s in here,” he added, dart- Clear out, and leave me alone or ing into the passengers’ waiting-room, where they had left the anxious old codger. Sure enough, there he was, seated where the police- man had left him, still holding his lean t-sack between his legs, and glaring around with eyes sticking out like door knobs, all the while looking che to see the train that was to take him to Scudder- ville. ; Shorty saw him first, Placing his hand to his mouth, he yelled: ! “Here you are!” Train ready for Seuddervittes” The effect.was electric. . The old fellow leaped te his feet, and flourishing his carpet-bag around so as to bang three or four people who Parernes to stand in the way, he made & rush for out of doors again, as he had done once before. * Shorty andthe Kid instantly looked serious and wonderfully honest. s : ; ‘Here! I’m bound for Scudderville. Where’s them ar cars?” noe 3 on ‘ Several people laughed, but no one volunteered te enlighten the old fellow as he danced around, fear- ful lest he might be left behind. g **Whar’s them ar. cars?” he RC OR es again, “Oh, will you go and sit down? The train for Scud- derville don’t go forhalf an hour yet,” said the policsiat, shoving him back towards the seat where he had placed him before. 1 ite “Why, consarn your pictur, this about the threeth or fourth time somebody’s yelled out *bout the train for Scudderville. Now, I don’t want tu be fuled any more, My wife, Hannsh’s at the depot (pronouncing it de-pot) with the old mare an’ wagin a waitin’ for me, an’ Idon’t want tu be fuled inter lusin’ them ar’ cars,” he protested; savagely. “Sit down andI’ll tell you when the train is ready,” said the policeman, ; “I’ve been fuled in this ’ere New York 'bout alll want tu be... Come.down here yesterday with this *ere bag chuck full of. tip top fresh eggs tu sell, an’ get Hannakb a new caliker dress, and hang meifa chap down here didn’t-make me believe as how it war ag’in the law tu carry eggs unmuzzled in New York, an’ he made me pay him a dollar bill tu take. *ém off my hands an’ keep me from bein’ ‘rested. Yes, he did!” A loud laugh from the passengers who stood around greeted this confession. _ . ‘ “All right, I don’t blame yen all for larfin’, for it war the alfiredist greenist. thing I ever ivurn tell on. But I’ve got fifty cents’ worth of ice eream here in mny.bag tu make myself hunk with Hannah.” —. Another laugh, and the passengers began to think that they had stumbled upon an accidental circus, with the side shows al) thrown in, _, “Goldarn New York, anyway. If they see a feller | that looks the least bit green, they just go for him bald-headed. Lemma get back tu Seudderville Cage more, an’ yu don’t catch me here ag’in in one spell.” e : Shorty stole up and took a seat beside him, after he had again sat down, The ola follow looked at him anxiously, assmuch as if to ask if he, too, was going to Scudderyille. , ; _ What is it?” he aakba, anxiously. yer! for Scudderville, but dey’ll try ter,make yer b’lieve it arn’t, for dey wants to got yer ice cream,” said Shorty. ‘ “Dll be goldarned if they du, though.” ; ‘That’s right. Now climb right in an’ work yer way ter.dercars. Don’t.mind what people say. It’s der last train ter day,” he whispered. , “Great Jehosaphat!” and seizing his old bag, be made a dive for the passenger, gate where people were crowding through for an express train. *‘Lem~- me through! You can’tfule me any longer. Um goin’ tu see Scudderville to-night or perish!” He began to elbow his way through the crowd, making enemies at. every step, when finally they turned upon him savagely, and the policeman again snatched. him almost bald-headed, and took him struggling back to the seat he had given him, _-“Rot blast yure everlastin’ pictur’! I ain’t goin’ ter be fuled any longer. I want ter git on board of them ar’ cars am’ go to Scudderville,” said he. “Now, you stay here until [ call you orI will take you in and lock you up,” said the policeman. “Don’t yer try ter play rutes on me!’’ and he strug- gled to get away. : ; The policeman spat on his hands, and was onthe - point of jerklng him into the lock-up, when a passen- ger who had observed the whole business approached and informed him that the little runt out by the door had made all the mischief, and that the poor coun- tryman was not to blame, The policeman turned to get-a look at Shorey, but Shorty got a look at him first, and lit out, concludmg that he had squeezed all the fun out of the old fellow that he could. f Both of the Shortys walked away laughing, and jumping on board of a Fourth avenue car, they head- ed for home. t They rode onfor some time without finding any- thing more entertaining than laughing over the fun they had just been enjoying, but pa ntly the cor- ductor called on them to colleot t: pie katoa: “Two halves,’ said Shorty, handing him a dime. “Two what?” growled the conductor. : “Two kids.” ‘ “Where?” “Here. Look at us,”” “Weieh ns,’ nid Shorty, dr,
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“*I1] raise you if you give me that sort of taffy.” ‘Perhaps yer don’t like our weigh,” “You'll have to pay your way here, young chap,” said the conductor, savagely. “Yes, but we are lambs. See?” “T.ambs! Bat you'll get your mutton cooked if you don’t come down with two cents more.” Shorty concluded that he had been fired around all he cared to be that day, and so he paid the money, after which the Kid blackguarded him for attempt- ing to pass for a child, and trying to beat the con- ductor out of two cents. rs “Pm going ter drop yer, Mr. Kid, yer can’t go wid me any more,” said Shorty, sourly. “Allright, I don’t want ter go wid a chap as goes ter beat car conductors,” replied the Kid, “Yer too fresh.” “But I’m squaré, though,” “Square!” “Yes, iflam a rounder.” 3 The old man gazed out of the window, and the smaller torment grinned all over himself. That night Shorty gave the little rascal the slip and went out alone. The truth was, he had heard about a certain for- tune-teller whom he wished to consult about finding his dad, and he didn’t want thé Kid along, She pretended to be able to tell a person allabout the past, present, and future, and Shorty made up his mind that he wanted a piece Of it. So he made his way to her abode, and found her to be a tallaugular woman about forty yea of age, with all sorts of mysterious ways about her, and any quantity of humbug. “Be yer der ole gal as does it?” he asked, when he was shown into her presence. “Do what, sir?’ she demanded, savagely. “Tells about it,” “1 am a fortune-teller, sir.” “Well, all right. Set her a workin’.”’ “Bo you wish to have your fortune told?” asked she. “ Course I does. Don’t s’pose I come here co’rt- in’, der yer?” said Shorty, with a grin. pats I trust you did not come here to insult me?’ ‘What! Never insulted anybody in my life. So go ahead an’ tell us all *bout it.” “Well, sir, the first thing to do is the payment of the customary fee,”’ said she, calmly. x “Oh, Iforgot bout der admission. How much does it take ter see der show?” “My fee is two dollars if you wish to have the past, present, and future revealed.” “Allright. Here’s yer coin. Now histe der rag an’ start der show,” “Phere is no occasion for levity, sir, for thisis a very serious thing,” said the old woman. “OQan’t T have some fun in mine if I pay for it?” “No, sir, I dealin serious facts.” “Allright. Set ’em agoin’.” a Shorty threw himself into a big easy chair, and again told her to fire away, which she proceeded to do as follows: ° “You have had a good deal of trouble and sorrow fn your life, and you are destined to have a great apa more before you get through. You have had trouble with your parents and are tempted to run away from home on account of it.” ; Shorty opened his eyes at this piece of news. “You are in love, but will not successful with the lady. She loves another.” “Der deuce yer say,” muttered he. “But there’s as good fish in the sea as ever were caught, remember,” she went on. ; “Say! What’er yergivin’ me, anyhow? Is dis er a fish market?” demanded Shorty. 4 “What doyou mean? I was simply making use of an illustration.” : 5 “Oh, well, we don’t want dis ere sketch illustrated, *Tain’t worth it. Go on wid yer taffy. I want my two dollars’ worth.” “Please don’t make any remarks.”’ “Allright. Spread yer mucilage.” “You will cross water and inherit money.” “Ah, now yer are beginnin’ ter shout.” “You will eventually have great good fortune.” “That's it, old gal. Give me my money’s worth. Best show I ever patronized.” % 5 “You haven’t had much experience in the world et. J “No, dat’s so, I’m green as grass,” “But you are quick to learn.” “Yer bet. I can see through a humbug as quick as a flash of catnip.” a The old woman squirmed a little at this, “Do you wish to ask any particular question?” “Pol? Just twig my buzz.” “Your what?” she asked, in surprise. «Listen ter der music of my chin.” “I don’t understand you, sir.” “Well, hear me. Can yer see my dad?” “See baa what?” " “My dad. Yer see, I never seen him, but I wants ¢ar, How is it?” “What?’ . “Can yer werk her?” “STer)”? t j “Bah! Can yer tell me anything ’bout his old royal nibs? Yer say dat yer knows all bout der past, pres- ent, an’ future. Give us some of it,” and Shorty fldgeted in his chair. . The old woman took another good loox at her, and seemed puazled. “You never saw him?” “Not ter know der ole rooster.” And your mother?” “Don’t know. Guess I must er had one, hey?” — The fortune-teller smiled, as Shorty cocked his eye and winked at her, _ ut er beer. SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. “Most likely. Were you a foundling?” “Now yer cackle.” “What?” \ “Dat’s me.” “You were a foundling?” “Yes. Now go it.” see The old woman closed her eyes for a moment, and then recovering herself, she took a pack of cards and began to shuffle them, : “What's yer little game?’’ asked Shorty, getting up and pushing his chair toward her as she sat by a “T don’t half understand you. You are a mystery to me,” said she, stopping short. “Well, dat’s what’s der matter wid me, But seein’ as how yer can’t tell fortunes, I'll play yer a little game of ‘whiskey poker’ ter see whether yer have dat two dollars what I give yer or I have four,” said he, Squaring himself at the table. “I do not intend to play cards; I never gamble,” “Oh, yee don’t, eh? What's yer racket?” “By these cards I can read your destiny.” “All right. Spit her out,” and Shorty lay back in the chair, and reaching over the arm of it, he pinched the tail of the old woman’s favorite tabby cat, and made her howl terribly. “Oh, darling, what’s the matter with you?” she asked, looking around. ‘Did yer speak ter me? I’m waitin’, pet,” said he, assuming that she had spoken to him. “Sir, you are a very rude young man, I was speak- ing to my cat.” “What's der matter wid yer ole pussy, anyway?” “Tet us confine ourselves to business, if you please.” “Dat’s me. Let her go'” She shuffled the cards some more, and Shorty cut them three times. Then she began: ‘Your father still lives,”’ said she. “Good for der ole man.” . “You may have to search long, but you will event- ually find him.” “Bully for me!” “And your mother-——”’ ‘Shall I find der ole gal, too?” “You will.” “Bully for you! Why, yer der boss fortune-teller. I'll send der boys ter see yer,” said he, and at the same time he managed to pinch the tail of that pussy cat again, at which she howled and skipped under the sofa, “Thank you,” said she, but whether for his prom- ise or for pinching the pussy he did not know. “But, L say ; how be I goin’ ter find der ole hen an’ rooster?” She took another look at him, and once more closed her eyes. “T can see it,” she exclaimed, suddenly, _ ; ma hORty, leaped to his feet, and held his hat in front of him. “Yes; I can see the germ of a wart on your nose, You have inherited it from your father,” “What! Did der ole rooster have a key on his bu- gle?” Shorty asked, while laughing. “He had a wart on his nose,” “Wart a shame!” But the pun was lost. “In ppt ial Bde your father you want to be on the lookout for a short, thick-set wan, with 2 wart on his nosé. “Oh, dat’s my mutton!” “He is rich.” How old is he?” “Good *nough, Give us a ‘lucky number’.” “Number 2.”” “Dat’s hunk. Dat’s me and der Kid. By-by, ole gal. Be good ter yourself, Bunty Ta-ta, I’m off in search of a man wid a wart on his flute;”’ and bang- ing his hat upon his head, he waddled out of the ouse. : CHAPTER III. ‘Dat’s my mutton now,” mused Shorty. “Want it well done or rare?” asked the Kid, Shorty, Jr., with a big grin. “Well done, but no sauce from you.” “But whistle it louder—what’s yer mutton?” “A short, fat man about fifty years old, with a wart on his nose.”’ “Wart a joke!l”’ ; “You'll get choked der fust thing yer know.” “I’m choking now fora glass er beer. Won’t yer come in an’ shout?” said the little comical rascal, pointing to a lager beer saloon. “Yer wants ter be ‘balled off’ hey?” “Well, I don’t care how yerdo it,whether yer shout or bawl, so long as i gets my suction ontera glass Come on, an’ then J'Ilhelp yer finda man wid a corn on his bugle.” i “Corn be hanged! I’m lookin’ fer a rooster wid a wart on his cut-water,” replied Shorty, and laugh- ing, they waddled into a lager beer saloon. It was about noon, and they were out for their cus- tomary walk. There didn’t mapper to be anybody in the place at the time but a big fat Dutch woman who was ’tending the bar. Shorty himself barely came .up to the top of the bar, arid the Kid hardly half-way up. But the lit- tle rascal climbed up on the top of a beer keg that stood in front of it,and looked almost as tall asa man. - “Give us two beers, ole gal,’’ said he, striking the bar with his little fist. ‘‘One for me an’ one for dis little runt here,” he added, pointing to Shorty. “Yaw,” said she, and taking two glasses she turn- ed away to draw the foamy.’ ees 33S III III Shorty, Jr. bopper down from the keg, and was, of course, ous of sight. The woman drew the beer and placed it upon the bar, when, seeing nobody but ‘1 Shorty, she began 19 look around, “‘Vhere vos dot man gone to?” “Man? I saw no man. What's der matter wid yer?’’ said Shorty, . ‘Dot man vot galled for dot beer.” : “T saw no man only one;” and he put his mug of beer out of sight. © : The old gal looked amazed, and when Shorty put down five cents to pay for his drink she looked even more so. i “Vel, dot vos some queer dings,”’ she said, : “Queer; I guess yer been drinkin’ too much an’ kinder see double.” “All righd; I drinks id myself,” and she at once proceeded to de so. As she did so, Shorty Jr. popped upon the top of the keg again. “Say, where’s my beer?” “Mine cot, vare you vas all der vile?” she asked, in astonishment. “Been here waitin’ fer my beer.” “All righd, I dink me dot youvos gone, I draw you some more.”’ Shorty went and sat down by the table to see the fun that possibly might come of it. Be bine shoal the Kid, eh ‘ ‘By jinks, bud dot vas queer,” said she, musingly, and she proceeded to draw the beer. : x4 The Kid jumped down and again stood cut of sight when she turned around. ' “Here! Vare vos dot man already?” “What's der matter wid yer? r arn’t no Man here but me,” said Shorty. “Got in Himmel!’ she exclaimed, looking wildly around, “Oh, yer’ve got ’em, ole gal—got ’em bad.” She looked serious. “Drink lighter, I’m a-tellin’ yer.” “Yaw, by jimminy, [drink me dot, too,” and she raised the mug to her lips, “Halloo! where’s my beer?” called the little joker, from his concealment. She dropped the beer in alarm, “Vot vos dot?” she whispered. ‘-Where’s my beer?” he calledagain. - “Donder——” and she came cautiously out from behind the bar to take a look. “Where's dat beer? What kind er way’s dis ter treat a customer?” the little fellow demanded, thrusting his hands into his pockets and swaggering around with a look of indignation. “Mine good gracious!” she exclaimed, starting back and holding up her hands. “But where’s my beer?” “Vot beer?” “Lager beer, to be sure.” “You told me noddings '’bout some beer?” ‘Yes, I did. I called for two beers, cne for me an’ one for him,” said he, pointing to Shorty, *Dat’s so,” put in Shorty. “How vos dot?” : “T called for a beer an’ yer drank it, dat’s how voe dot. Come, hurry up.’” “But dot man dot skip oud?” é “Oh, yer off yer base, ole gal. Been no man here.” “By jinks, I guess dot I go crazy somedimes,” said she, going for a glass of beer. As she turned away, Shorty, Jr. skipped out of the door, leaving his father still seated at the table. “Yaw, dot vos der queerest somedings dot I hava seen already,” said she, turning to take the beer out to the table; “I dinks dot-——” Here she paused again and looked around iu even greater astonishment than before. Well?” said Shorty, looking calmly.at her. “Mine Got in Himmel!” : “What isit now?” “Vare vos dot boy gone?”’ “What boy?” ‘Dot poy dot call for de beer.” “Dere’s no boy here, What's der matter wid yer?"’ gel vos no poy here chust now?” 0. “Mine good gracious!” and she fairly staggered. “Little while ago yer was talkin’ ’bout a man, now yer cacklin’ ’bout a boy; I’m tellin’ yer dat yer off yer nut,’’ said Shorty. ; “Oh, mine gracious, dot vos so strange.” ~ ‘Don’t drink so muck beer, ole gal.”” “I drink me nod so much as ten twelve glasses all day. Dot vos blayed out; I dinks me dot dere vos somedings queer ’bout dot.” “Yer’ve got "em. Da-da. Don’t drink so much beer, an’ yer’ll be all right again,” saying which he walked out of the place, leaving the woman ina state of utter bewilderment. Nothing further worth recording happened that day, but in knocking around in search of fun and ad- venture, and at the same time searching for Shorty’s dad, both of them turned up in Jersey city a day or two afterwards. At the ferry house Shorty got his eye on alittle fat old man, who so nearly filled the bill, that he started after him in order to make sure whether he had a wart on his nose or not. He did not succeed in catching up with him until he had got outside the gate, and upon a horse-car that was just starting away. 2 Shorty and the Kid also scrambled on board, and the moment he got face to face withthe man, he saw that he actually did have a wart on his nose, and a large one it was, too. at filled the bill. Shorty went for him red-hot. “TI say, boss, I think yer my dad,” said he. “Your what?” demanded the man. “My dad; Il oever seen mim, but dey tell me dat
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. or he’s yer style of a rooster, and wears a corn on hig bugle.” This made the passengers laugh. 4 “That's him, sure pop,” putiin the Kid, © “Tf you don’t clear out Wil give you a fatherly spanking, you impudent runt,” said the man. “Dat’s it. Dat’s der way for a daddy ter talk ter his son, If yer’ll only own up dat yer my dad, I’!l Ist yer spank two hours.”” “Get out of the way.”’ s “Don’t get yer back up, I’m plumb in earnest.” “And so am I,and if you don’t clear out I will throw you out of this car,” “Ge it, ole man, I’ll brace up ter yer,” said Shorty, Sr., as big as anybody, 7 “Say, didn’t yer once have a kid dat yer lost?"’ per- sisted Shorty. “Ni wach “Stolen?” “No.” “Strayed?” - “No, sir. What the devil “I’m in search of my dad, ‘The devil you are!” ; 3 “Yes, an’ I's a yearnin’ for my grand-pop,” put in the Kid. ; 5 é “Yes, an’ yer just fill the bill, ole man.” “What makes you think so?” : “Riverything bout yer, an’ especially der wart on yer bugle.” “Pll wart you, you rascal!” exclaimed the man, making a dive for Shorty, ; By this time the eight or ten passengers in the car had become greatly interested in the affair,and were taking it all in. : ° “Don’t hit me if yer aren’t my dad!” eried Shorty, dodging out of the way. - In going for bine the old man tripped over his car- t bag, and tumbled into the lap of a red-headed rish woman who sat opposite, and who went for him with fist and nail, pushing him over upon somebody onthe other side, and following him up as though bent on tearing him all to pieces. In less than ten jerks of a cat’s tail there was the most confounded uproar ever heard, and nearly everybody in the car was engaged in the fight, and the Sencha portion of them piled together in the cen- ter of it, ; Shorty Jr. got under one of the seats out of harm’s way, but poor Shorty was the undermost dog in the fight, and was getting badly used. The conductor rang the bell to stop the car, and then rushed in to puta stop to the riot, but it was fully flve minutes before he could do so, during which time several bloody noses were given and! received, and several hats smashed and garments torn, The old fellow with a wart on his nose got his share of the banging, and when the thing was over he looked quite as bad as Sharty did, although he was ten times as mad. And by this time a policeman had arrived. “Arrest that fellow!” cried he of the warty nose, pointing to Shorty, : “What fur? I didn’t do nuffin’,” said Shorty. “Yes, you did, you little scoundrel. Arrest him, officer, and I'll prefer a charge against him.” ‘TI tell yer dat I didn’t touch yer.” “Oh, come along,” said the officer, seizing him by the coat collar, ““An’ yees better take that bloody ould duffer in as well, Mr. Perliceman,”’ said the Irish woman, ‘for he do be as bad a blackguard as is in the counthry.”’ “Oh, you shut up,” snapped the old man, who was trying to fet the wrinkles out of his hat. “Troth, D’ll shut yees up if ye give me ony more of yer gab, so I will,” said she, shaking her fist at him. “OCome—come, hurry up and don’t keep us waiting here all day,’”’ said the conductor, “Come along,” and tite officer snaked Shorty ont of the car, followed by Shorty, Jr., although he was not actually under arrest. Old Warty got himself together the best he could, and started to leave the car, “Out wid ye, ye ould vagabond!” was the Irish bie ¥) parting salute, but to which he made no reply. The car started again, and the party that had been pulled out of it set out for the station-house. 6 old man was mad as a hornet, and all the way he kept upa jawing. Shorty continued to protest his entire innocence, but as the officer had nothing to do with that, he took them in, after which he con- ducted them before a police magistrate, followed by quite a crowd, many of whom recognized Shorty, and were anxious to learn all about the trouble, The judge was a queer old fellow, although a square ene, and learning that a charge had been preferred, he proceeded at once to investigate it. ‘Well, now, what’s this?” was his first question. Both Shorty and the complainant began to talk at once, and very fast, “Hold on!” said the judge, banging the desk with his gavel. “What is your name?” he asked, turning to the man, “John Watson,” he replied, : . “John Wartson his nose,”’ suid Shorty, Jr. “Silence in the coort!”’ said the court officer, a Frenchman from Cork, 4 “What isyour name?”’ he asked of Shorty, “My name’s Shorty, boss.’” “Shorty! I want nonicknameshere. Youngman, what is your name?” ’ ‘Dat’s all der name I ever had, boss. I’m known der world over as Shorty.” x “Well, now, what is the trouble?” P cater Bort of them began to talk, “Silence, I say! “Silence in the coort!’’ yelled the officer, “This impudent young——” ‘ are you driving at?” “Dis bloody old——” “Silence!” “Silence in the coort!”’ “One ata time. Watson, what is it?” “Well, your honor, I was riding in a car when this young scoundrel —”’ “Dis yer's how it is, Jedge, 1—-” “Silence, I say!” : “Silence in the coort!” echoed the officer. “Go on, Watson,” said the judge. “This fellow he insulted me and——” “Dat arn’t so, jedge,” said Shorty, leaping upon the table in front of the court, on which Shorty, Jr. was already sitting, “Silence in the coort!” ; “Til tell yer all ’bout it, jedge,” but the judge was pounding for order, and the spectators were con- vulsed with laughter. : “Silence, I say!” “Silence in the coort!” “Yer see, jedge, I’s tryin’ fer ter find my dad. I don’t know weder I’s an orphan, half-orphan, or what der blazes I am, any more’n I know what my name is.” They couldn’t choke him off, “That’s nothing to do with it, ed me,” “No, I didn’t.” . “Silence in the ¢oort!’’ yelled the court officer, for about the twentieth time, this being what he regard- ed as his entire duty. “Go it!” shouted the Kid. “Get down from the table,” said the judge. “T wants ter tel yer how it was, jedge. Yer see I wanted ter find my dad, A fortune teller told me dat I’d find him, an’ dat he was a little fat ole rooster like his nibs here, an’ dat he wore a wart on his bugle; I met him an’ only axed him if he ever lost a kid, dat’s all, an’ he got mad an’ kicked up a fight wid der passengers,” “How is that, Mr, Watson?” ““Warts-on-der-nose,” said Shorty, Jr., again, “Silence in the coort!”” “What have you got to do with the case?” asked the judge, looking at the Kid. He’s my dad.” “Why, jedge, I’m Shorty, Jr. “J don’t believe a word of it, your honor, They are a pair of young rascals,” said Watson. ‘Jedge, I’m givin’ it ter yer straight. Dereisn’ta boy in der So dat don’t know Shorty, and if yer don’t believe it, Vil send for ‘Peter Pad’, he’s twenty four karret_ fine, an’ he Knows all ’bout me, I tell yer, jedge, I’m square,” : At thisa number of young fellowsin the court- room applauded. “Silence in the coort!” “Did he strike you, Watson?” “Well, I—that is, he provoked me,” “He got his shirt off for nothin’, jedge, an’ in der muss we all got mixed BD, But I wasn’t a-hittin’ him or nobody; I was a-whoopin’ ter get out.” “Did Watson strike you?” “Jedge, I'll never tell yer, for I don’t knew. But look at me! I’s got all I want from somebody.” “The case is dismissed,”said the judge, whereat there was aloud cheer from the spectators, and the court officer had all he could do, and more, too, in clearing the room, “Bully for your honorable nibs!” said Shorty. “But don’t molest this gentleman again, It is quite evident that he is not your father.” “Me his father! Iguess not, the curl’? and Mr. Watson rushed frorh the room, only to be received with a shout of derision when he got outside. ; “Well, jedge, I don’t want no duffer like dat what’s got no parental feelinks.” 4) “Come along, old man; yer’ll never find yer dad, said Shorty, Jr., laughing. “Well, I don’t want ter find many , more of dat kind, I’m all broke up. Le’s go home. “JT should suy so. I’m glad Tnever had so much trouble in finding my dad.” : Shorty grinned, but made no reply. As they got outside of the court-room, the crowd that had assembled there gave them three rousing cheers and a tiger, for they all remembered them. Hiring a cab, they got into it and started for New York, where it took nearly a week for Shorty to get himself together again and resume the nobby look he had before meeting the man with a wart on his nose. But he soon forgot his experience, however, and was once more as full of the devil as ever, although the idea of finding his father somewhere and some- how never forsook him for any length of time. One day Shorty ran upon Sergeant Polly. foe was walking along Broadway when he met m, Those who read the original “‘Shorty”’—that is, the story of his first experiences in New York—will re- He grossly insult- member Sergeant Polly, of the police, the man who. first brought Shorty out upon the stage, and set him agoing. : . : eewell—well, Shorty, is this you?” he asked, grasp- ing him by the hand. % “What! Sarge? Sergeant Polly, or do I mistake myself?” exclaimed Shorty. : “All around,” “How are you, Shorty?” : “Good’s gold. How yer was yerself, ole man?” - ‘Never better. By eee but this is ‘good,” added the sergeant, still shaking him by the hand. “Good! it’s a dead sure cure for sore eyes ter see yer, sarge. Big gates all der vile?” “Oh, pretty good. Been to California, But I have heard from you all the while through Zhe Boys of New York, and saw that you were doing ’em brown right straight along,” “You bet.” “As usual,’? “HWvery time.’’ “Well—well! But we are growing old, Shorty,” said Polly, who had really grown older to appear- ances than had muvee “Old! Why, sarge, l’se got a kid dat’s a bigger devil dan I was when yer fust knowed me.’’ “Oh, I’ve heard about that kid! Is he regular?’” “Solid. Got married when I was full.” “Well, I should say so. What are you doing now? Haven’t heard of you for a long time.” “Come inter this beery, and I’ll tell yer while we quaff some of der foamy,” and Jed the way into a lager beer saloon. They took seats at one of the tables, ordered the beers, **You are the same Shorty, I see.’’ “Yes; only got older an’ settled down.” “Oh, yes, you look settled. Where is the kid!” “J left hin’ home. He’s so full of the devil dat I can’t get along wid him noway.” ““He’s a chip of the old block, then, hey?” ° “Sarge, he’s mor’n dat; he’s all block,” said Shorty, laughing. “Well, tell me something about yourself,” “T's got a mission.” ‘Mission! Deviltry.” “No, I’s quiet now.” “What are you giving me, Shorty?” “Never play any more rackets. Honest.” ‘Then you must have changed, But what is your mission, as you call it?” “I’m tryin’ ter find my dad.” (pee what?” ; 5 y progenitor; my parent, “The devil!’ “Or some such a person.” “What put that in your head?’ “Well, Tread a story in der Boys of New York dat told all about a cove like me dat found his ole man, an’ I didn’t know but I might do der same thing.” “Good enough. I dare say you had parents,” “Well, ter a certain extent, somewhat.” ‘How long have you been on this lay 2” “Oh, on’y a short time.” Me “J hear you are well fixed.” “Got boodles of it.” ; “Bully for you, Well, what have you found cut?” “Nothing. I’m looking, now, for a little ole man wid a wart on his bugle.” “For what?’ “My dad,” “My —— But,I say,[ know a little old fellow gece fifty years old, who has a wart on his nose.” “No, * ; “Yes.” ‘‘Who is he?” ‘His name is Bundle.” “What *bout him?” “Fe’s a mystery.” “Rich?” “Dead loads of it.”” “Look like me?” “Very much,” “Introduce me, sarge?” “Of course I will.” ‘ ' ees more for my dad! Set’em up again, land- ord! Z and Shorty CHAPTER IV. ONCE more was Shorty bent on finding that little old man with a wart on his nose. His old ‘friend, Sergeant Polly, had listened to his story and assured him that he knew of just such a man. : “Lemme grab dat mutton, sarge, for it may be pa- rental mutton,” said he, enneny: “That is to say,it may be the old man,” replied the sergeant, laughing, i “Dat’s der whistle, “All right, I haope it may be, of introduction to him.” . “Good *nough. Yer know him?’ “Oh, very well.” “What sort of a rooster is he?” . “Nice old fellow with a pile of money.”’ “Dat’s der ham-bone fer me ter pick.” ; “But he has always passed himself off for a bach- elor,” said Polly, after a moment’s reflection. “Oh, he has, hey? Well, maybe he is. Yer can’t most allers putty generally tell *bout dér way der old cat’ll jump in dis world,” and Shorty looked just a trifle serious. Z “You are right, Shorty.” “where does he live?”’ in Albany.” i pi MII right. Gimme der letter an’ Ill go up an’ sé¢e him. “ So it was arranged, and Mr. whe gave him the letter of introduction to Mr, Bundle, for such was his poetic name. ; The next day Shorty_took the boat for Albany, leaying the kid, Shorty Jr., athome. He felt just a trifle sentimental, and had no desire . to take that young chip of the old block along, and not the slightest idea of having any fun, with any- ” Tl give you a letter body. It was a delightful summer evening, and as there were yet two or three hours before dark, he lit a se- gar and took a seat on the after-deck of the St. John, to muse awhile with his feet cocked upon the guard- rail, and to gaze at the receding city *twixt the toes of his boots, He made a comical picture as he sat there tipped back in his chair; his hat tipped forward until it al- most rested on the bridge of his nose, and without
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6 SHORTY IN SEARCH O# HIS DAD. Oe paging the slightest attention to anybody around jim. Several of the passengers laughed and passed com- menty on him, but notwithstanding he heard one or two of them, he pretended not to do so, and puifed away at his segar. A It was nearly dark before he changed his position, further than to light a fresh segar, and by that time the boat was opposite Yonkers. To tell the truth, (although it may be hard to be- lieve), Shorty had a touch of the blues. And he often had such touches since he became sentimental re- garding the finding of his father, and he might have gone to his state-room without noticing anybody, had not a very spoony couple of young lovers taken a@ seat near him. They were chuck full of poetry and yum-yum, and went on with their nonsense until it sickened one or two other passengers near them, and finally attract- ed the attention of Shorty. | ; ; “Oh, Angie, how beautiful is this night,” said he, sliding his arm around her waist. “Yeth, George,” she replied, lispingly, “Almost as bright and beautiful as something else I know, Angie,” and he squeezed her again. “Oh, Georze!” * ‘How calm and silvery the noble river is, and how like a thing of life we glide over its bosom--——” “Oh, George, how can you!” she exclaimed, cover- ing her face with her fan. “Oh, aren’t yer ’shamed of yerself, George, ter glide over der bosom dat way?” said Shorty, speak- ing loud enough for everybody to hear. And every body did hear, and everybody laughed. Some of them yelled, in fact, and the way that pair of spoonies danced out of that was lively. “Good—good!” said several, who had been bored by them, yet hadn’t the courage to speak. But Shorty laughed to himself, and paid no atten- tion to the remarks. After walking around a few moments to stretch his legs, he lighted another “pipe,” and started forward to where his state-room was located. 7 He wasn’t long in ascertaining that it was close to the wheelhouse, where nobody but a deaf man could sleep. He went to the office to see if it couldn’t be changed, but no; the steamer was crowded and every state-room taken. Then he was mad, and while debating whether to sit up ail night or lie awake in his noisy state-room, he came across a nervous man and wife who were just coming out of a room near the stern. The wére evidently unaccustomed to,traveling, if, indeed, they had ever been on a steamboat before, and Shorty spotted them at once. They went out on the after-deck, sticking very close to each other, and Shorty took a seat near to where they sat. x . “Arn’t you nervous, Charley?’ he heard her ask of him in a few minutes, “No, not much,” he replied,. “Arn’t there any danger of the boilers bursting?” “Guess not.” " “But you know they did explode once.” “Yes, I know; but——” “Let's sit up all night, Charley?” “Oh, I guess there’s no danger,” “Say, what's yer number?” asked Shorty, “210,” said she. ¢ * “Most dangerous place on the boat. “What?” they both exclaimed. “Wact.” “What makes you think so?” i $ “well, I don’t like to say anything about it, for it might hurt der reputation of der boat.” “Oh, tell us, is there any danger?” she pleaded. “Flush!” and he looked cautiously around. “Ves—yes,’’ they both said in whispers, “Yer know she bust tier biler once.” “Yes, I heard that she did.” “But didn’t they get in a new one?" \ “Hush! Mum!” *“Ohin.”” is “1 don’t understand you.”’ “Dey give der public taffy.” “How?!” “No new biler put in.” “Ts that so?” “Patched up der ole one,” said Shorty, in a stage whisper. “Ts that so?” they both exclaimed. “Sure, an’ it’s right under yer state-room,”’ “Oh, Oharley, we won’t go into it; we'll stay out here on the deck all night,” said she. “Oan’t yer get it changed?” "No; I heard a man say just now that there wasn’t: another state-room ‘o be had. “Hush! Taffy!’ this in another whisper. “How?” peek Don’t give me away for tellin’ yer "bout “Oh, certainly not; much obliged to you, indeed.” “1"l] work a racket for yer.” “How?” ‘ “I know der clerk, Gimme yer key an’ I'll get an- oder room for yer, I'll bet.” - “Oh, you are so kind,” said the man, handing him the key of his state-room: Shorty took it and disappeared. After being gone afew moments he returned and handed them the key to his own noisy room. “Dere yer be. Dat’s all hunky,” said he. “You are very kind,” the wife said. = “Dat’s all right.” : ““Whereabouts is this room, I wonder?" “Right in the middle of her. Der coon will show yer where ’tis.” — ~ And it is out of danger?” “All hunk. No danger widin a hundred feet of it. Come’n get yer things out of yer old room, for I mus’ carry der key back.” They were not long in doing this, after which they went in search of a porter to show them their new room, while Shorty pretended to take the key of the old one back to the office. But of course he did nothing of the kind, and the moment they were out of sight he slipped into the room and soon afterwards slipped into bed. “How’s dis for high?” he chuckled. ‘‘Dey say yer can’t play tricks on travelers, but 1 reckon dat yer can, if dey arn’t fly,” and without ever thinking for @ moment of how the nervous couple would get along with the noise and the rattle of the paddle wheel, he went quietiy to sleep and kept at it until the boat bumped at her dock in Albany the next morning. Fortunately he was where he could see the passen- gers as they went ashore, and almost the first ones that he clapped his eyes on, as he looked from his state-room window, weré the couple with whom he had exchanged rooms the night before, showing that they had slept but little, if any, and were consequent- ly on hand to be the first ashore. As hes walked up upon the dock they both turned and looked back at the boat with a frown, but whether because of her dangerous boilers or noisy paddle-wheels, Shorty could not tell. But he indulged in about two yards of grin while dressing, and in the course of halfan hour he was seated in a carriage and being driven to Stanwix Hall Hotel, Breakfast and another segar made him all right ard ready for the business before him. But asit was early yet he concluded to take a walk about the city, and revisit some of the places he had become acquainted with in his old showman days, while out with his minstrels. He remembered Albany especially, for here it was that he had enjoyed a barrel.of fun and played many of his younger day rackets, although for that matter he was just as fond of them now as he had ever been. It was born in him, “Eh, by thunder! der’s nothin’ like a life on der road wid a show,” he mused, as place after place, with its laughable associations came to view, and he chuckled over the memories they awakened of per sons andevents. ‘Unscrew my belly-button if I haven’t a bloody good mind ter go at if some more; I’m rustin’ all ter pieces doin’ nix,” It was. nearly ten o’clock before he finished his rounds, and set out in quest of the little old man with a wart on his nose, Mr, Eptraim’ Bundle. But as luck would have it, that gentleman was out of town, and would not be back unti) the next day, and not wishing to return to New York without see- ing him, he concluded to goup to Troy and kill the day in that city of stoves and laundries, here he met several showmen whom he knew, and the result was that he had a good-time, and the day passed without his scarcely knowing it, and at pighy he returned to Albany after witnessing the show. It was midnight when he got back tothe hotel, and the day clerk was just turning business over to Den- nis O’Callagin, the night porter. Now Shorty knew Dennis very well, having made his acquaintance years before while stopping at the hotel, and right glad was the porter to see him. They talked over old times for an hour or so, and finally Dennis took a lantern and went over the whole building, as was his custom, tosee that everything was all right, leaving Shorty in the office. The Jittle wag was waiting for just this opportuni- ty, for he had heard the clerk call the porter’s atten- tion to the call-slate, on which he had written down the names of several persons who wished to be called at different hours, and it occurred to him that he could have some fun with this bit of the porter’s bus- iness. So he took the slate while Dennis was gone, and made such alterations as he thought best to carry out his ideas, and got through with it just as Dennis returned to the office. “Begorra, Misther Shortness, but it’s ould we be both of us gittin’ ther while,” said he,as he put away his lantern and resumed his chair, “Yer right, Dennis; old Fader Time don’t take any more stock in us den he does in oder folks,” said Shorty, with a sigh, i “Are yez in ther minstrel business yet?” ‘No. Made my pile, Dennis, an’ am layin’ off on my oars.”” . ‘ ‘Be ye, indade? Well, barrin’ mesilf, I don’t know of ony other man I’d sooner see well fixed, roth but ye war good at ther monkey business, Did ye yee Jehil of gettin’ married?” <a é “Sure yer better off widout it, for yemoight get a woife as big as two of yees, and maybe she’d wallop ther divil out of yees.” ‘‘Mor’n likely.”’ : ‘Waith, that do be the way wid me, and I’m as big as three of yees.”’ ‘Der ole gal gives it ter yer, does she?” “Sometoimes she do be knocking the divil out of me, begorra, soshe do.” - “what for?” “Sure we argify, an’ she do get the best of it wid a broom!” Shorty had a good laugh at this mournful confes- sion of the old porter. ‘Raith, yer a fool if yees iver gets married. But I must look to me slate,’ he added, turning to it, “Troth, here’s business. Be jabers, I think every- body in ther house wants an early call in ther morn- ing. ‘Mr, Davis, called at two, to take the night ex- press.’ Sure, but he’s a crabbed ould rascal, He do be after lavin’ orders ter be called, an’ not ter lave janet he gets up, and then he do foight me like the Vil, ‘Sleepy, most likely.” : “Yes, an’ ugly, too, But it’s near toime that I called him, An’ here’s Mr, Schwartz, the bloody ould Dutchman, he wants ter be called at two; and here’s Mr, Scudder, he’s ter be called at two. Phat’s the matter wid’em all, 1 wonder?” and so he ran through the list as Shorty had arranged it, all the while muttering and wondering howit was that everybody wanted to be called at two o'clock. Shorty was taking it all in and waiting to see what would come of it, Finally Dennis started up stairs forthe general wake. 4 “Now for der racket,” said Shorty, leaping upon the counter in the office. Presently he heard Dennis pounding on a door up on the floor above.} “Misther Davis! Git up!” he called, “What the devil do you want?” he heard, in a muffled voice, x “It's two o'clock.” “Well, what the devil of it?” “Yer want ter git up.” “You lie, you fool! Clear out!” “No, LT won't. Git up.” “Go to the devil!” “ll be back ag’in, prisintly.” And Dennis started to go for another sleeper, “Tf you do, Vil brain you!” 5 Then he went for Schwartz. Rapping on the door once or. twice, there was a grunt in reply, when he told him it was time to get up. So he went from one door to another, until he had got nearly the whole house alarmed, after which he returned to the door of Mr. Davis, where he pounded some more, as his instructions had always been to never leave a person until he was up and awake. “Will yees git up, Misther Davis? “Oonfound you, are you there again?” he yelled. “Yes, Will yees git up?” $ “Yes, I will, if you don’t clear out,” “There’s a foing man,” said Dennis (for, in eaatne old fellow always made abont So much row, and he had a deal of trouble in getting him up before he had finished his sleep, although he really wanted to get up at the appointed times.) ~ “Are yees awake?”’ he called, after another rap. Just then the door of the old fellow’s room was thrown open, accompanied by a string of oaths long enough to make a neckchain for the devil. — “Confound your Irish addle-head! what do you mean by waking me up at this hour?” And he accompanied the inquiry with a smack in the snoot that made the porter’s teeth rattle, Then there ¢amé a mixture of Irish and Kuglish oaths, and a regular set to, followed by a clench,and in half of no time Dennis and Davis, in his night- shirt, came rolling over and over down stairs into the office where Shorty sat. / There they continued’ the fighting and swearing, when the others who had been called rushed down to take partinthe rumpus. ~ And the clerk, and landlord, and servants, and guests, in various conditions of night-clothes, rushed down to see what it all meant. Shorty was the only one who knew. It was fully ten minutes after the porter and Davis had been pulled apart before any body could get halt of an idea of what it was all abont, “Qonfound his thick head, he is drunk,” said Davis, savagely. i ‘An’, bad luck ter yees, if yees hadn’t a gone ter bed as full as a goat, ye’d a known when yer should git up. “So I did, you old idiot, I left word to be called at five o’clock.” y “And Lat six,” said another man. ‘Dot vas der same dings mit me,” put in Schwartz, ce the others followed suit, stating various other hours. “What is the meaning of this, Dennis?” demanded the landlord, as soon as he could be heard. “Tuck at ther slate, sur,” and he handed it to him. “Mhis certainly calls for two o’clock for you all.”’ “Of course it do. Bad manners ter them, they don’t know fat they want,” said Dennis, savagely. Here the clerk took a hand in and insisted that he had written the calls all right, but that somebody had altered the figures. This was evident, but it was fortunate for Shorty that they did not suspect him. But after getting things in shape once more all hands returned to their bed, Shorty among the others. And you bet he enjoyed a good laugh when he got out of sight, . a But there was more cursing and growling the next morning; for Dennis had not got over his mad yet, and resolved to let them sleep until doomsday efore he would waken them, Shorty was never suspected, and after he had laughed over the joke with the other guests as long a ae liked, he started out again in search of his ad, 5 It was about ten o’clock when he rang the bell of Mr. Bundle’s house and asked to see that gentle- man, z He was shown into the parlor and informed that he would see him in a few minutes, It was’an elegantly furnished room, and Shorty contemplated it with curious emotions. ; “Golly; if he should prove to be my dad, I'd have a soft thing of it,” he thought. 5 Presently the door opened and Mr, Bundle entered theroom. At first sight he seemed to fill the bill. Shorty thonght so, and handed him the letter. He opened and read it. Then he looked at his strange little visitor for a moment without speaking a word, and Shorty thought it was a curious sort of
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pind SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD.” z SS SS CC I a look, and one with but little fatherly feeling in it, or even a friendly one; buc somehow it seemed to him that the old fellow’s mug was familiar, “Are you a lunatic or a scoundrel; which?” the old ma finally asked. “I gives it up, boss,” said Shorty. “Who is this man Polly?” “Don’t yer know Polly?” “Never heard of him that I know of.” “Sergeant Polly used to be on der perlice.”’ “T never knew nor never heard of such a man.” Shorty began to feel foolish, and to fear that the sergeant had put upa job on him in payment for the gnany he had formerly worked on him, ; “Dat’s funny,” he mused. “Wunny ? “Yes. He give me dat letter ter ye.” “Do you know what is in the letter?” the old man asked, severely. : “Nix, Never readit.” “Do xen wish me to read it to you?’ “Weil, if yer don’t mind,’ replied Shorty, all the while fearful he was in for something. “Very well, I willdoso. Listen: ‘New York, July 10, 1875. “ ‘Dear Srm.—The bearer of this, one Shorty, has got a crank into his head that you are his father, or he says so, and at his solicitation J give him this Jet- ter, although personally unknown to you, But if you think it best to give him the grand lightning bounce, ou have my permission, for he is one of the worst jokers in the country. Yours, “¢*Hx-SERGEANT POLLY.” “Now, sir, what do yon think of that?” he asked, after finishing the reading. “TI think dat der sarge has got me.” “Got you, you rascal, what do you mean?” and the old fellow leaped to his feet. **Well, I’m looking for my dad, an’ he told me dat lhe knowed an ole duffer dat filled der bill.”” “You scoundrel! How date you come in my own house? Do youknow who I am? After making me miss the train in the Grand Central Depot; after tumbling me down into the car-pit and bruising and abusing me in the most outrageous manner, you have the sublime impudence to follow me to my home, You——’’ ‘ ‘Was dat you?” asked Shorty, in surprise. **Was it me? I’ll soon show you whether if was me or not,” and he rang 2 bell savagely. ‘Well, yer know how it is,’’ stammered Shorty. “Yes, I know how itis, and I’ll soon show you how itis. Here, Sam, fire this fellow into the street, and kick him clear down to the river,” he added, speak- ing to # big colored man that answered the bell.’ fhe man went for Sherty, who stood on his guard, and before he could reach him he butted him in the belly, knocking him against an aquarium and tum- bling both over, and then with a like compliment for Mr. Bundle, landing him on top of the darkey, he seized his hat and cane and started for the front door just in time to be pounded out of it by the big Irish girl who was sweeping there. “Oh, if I don’t get hunk wid Sarge Polly!” he mut- tered, as he made bis way back to the hotel. CHAPTER V. i Suorry was rather a badly used up joker when he reached his hotel, after his adventure in search of his dad at the house of Mr, Bundle, in Albany, and he lost no time in getting on board the steamer Drew, which was to sail that evening for New York. It was two or three hours ahead of the advertised time for the steamer to start, but he felt sick and sore, and wanted to get out of sight and remain out until he reached home. He laid off in his state-room for awhile, and tried to slick his ruffled feathers down a bit, and get himself into shape again. . Butthe task was not an easy one by any means. His hat resembled the collapsed bellows ofa concer- tina quite as much as it did anything else; his shirt collar was broken open, and there was in his whole “cit-yp-and-gib” something which would make one think that he had either been run through a thresh- ing machine or had been fooling with the raising end ofa mule.” Poke So after finding that he could not repair himself so as to look presentable, he left the boat and called on a hatter; also a gents’ furnishing store, and at the end of half an hour he returne@, looking greatly im- proved. f But still he did not look happy, and he didn’t feel happy, either. He felt sore in body and mind: Not that he couldn’t take a joke almost as well as he could play one, but the racket which Sergeant Polly ad played on him was so unexpected, so stunning, and touched him in such a tender spot, that he could hardly. Swallow it, Dat’s one for der sarge. But wait till I get a chance back on him, dat’s all. Dat’sde wust bounce I ever got in my life, but I’ll never let him know how it was. He’d have der laugh on me too good,” said he, as he sat on the after-deck looking at the people, who by this time began to flock on board. But I don’t seem ter find my dad very much. Wonder if it’s got out anyhow? What a racket it was ter find the same ole rooster dat { tackled once be- fore. Wonder if Polly knowed ir all der time? Well, it was a good one if he did, an’ a good one if he didn’t. Guess der ole man an’ der nigger have got der belly- ache, anyway.” ra Thus he mused until the steamer's first bell aroused tim from his reverie. } The same bell aroused somebody else; a whole amily of them, in fact, for just then Shorty saw an old fellow running towards the steamer, with a huge Paar Ha bag in one hand and a great blue cotton um- brella in the other. This he was flourishing above his head and shouting at the top of his voice for the boat to hold on and not go fatilhe got on board, The old man was followed by his wife, who was sim- ilarly burdened, and she in turn by a daughter and two sons, each loaded with as much as they could carry, in the shape of bags and bandboxes, and each one of them was imitating their parents the best the could by shouting for the boat to wait for them, al- though it was a full half hour before there was any thought of sailing. _ The ringing of the bell, however, made them be- lieve that she was about to steam away, and this caused them to shout and flourish. “Hold on! Stop her—stop her!”’ he yelled. “Yes, stop her!” piped the old woman, red in the face, and scarcely able to speak, so nearly winded was she, “S-t-o-p her!’? chorused the sons, and then the daughter squealed the same thing, as they all ran to- wards the boat. But the noise of the bell and the laughter of those who stood around, nearly drowned their voices, _ “Hold on; don’t go yet!” yelled the old man, and just then his plug hat blew off, and his wife planted one of her big feetin it. ‘‘Thunderation, S’phrony, can’t yu see where yu’re goin’?” he yelled, at the Same time turning to recover his cady, But she had got her foot into it and kept right along towards'the gang-plank, wearing it as a sort of an overshoe, while the poor distressed husband yell- ed for her to.stop, as she was ruining his Sunday-go- to-meeting hat. 2 But she had eyes and ears for nothing but getting ou board of that steamboat, and, closely followed by the remainder of the family, she rushed down} the gang-plank at break-reck speed, mashing the good looks out of her husband’s hat at every step. A perfect shout greeted them, and Shorty was so delighted that he forgot his own. sores for the time being, and rushed below to see the fun. “S’phrony Buckins, what in thunderdu yu mean?” demanded her husband, throwing down his bag and umbrella the moment he got on board. “Why—what’s the matter, Seth?” she asked, never dreaming of what she had done, ps “Matter, you great elephant!” and slamming her down upon a settee, he lifted uP her foot and pulled his hat from it, amid a roar of laughter. “Why, Seth Buckins!” she exclaimed, “Seth thunder! Look at that hat,” said he, hold- ing itup before her. “Why, Seth, how cum it there?’ “Bah! it blowed off, and yu put that thar big foot intu it. Now look!”’ Another shout of laughter greeted this. “What in thunder be yu all laffin’ bout?’ the old man demanded, looking around indignantly. “At your hat-block,” suggested somebody, and then, of course, there was another laugh. - “Yu go tu thunder, and pump lightnin’ for three cents a clap,” and he attempted to wipe off the mud and get his poor old hat into something like its orig- inal shape. ; “Didn’t have much time to spare, though, did we!”” suggested the son. “No, only avout half an hour,” said one of the colored waiters. “What!” the whole family exclaimed, and the old woman leaped to her feet. ri “Only about half an hour.” “Git out!” : “Hark! she’s goin’ now,” said the daughter. “Going to stay.” “Waal, by thunder!’ But, say, mister, what on earth were yu ringin’ them ’ere bells so for?”’ “Oh, that was only the first bell. It will ring again before she starts.” “Waal, I swanny!” groaned the old fellow. “An? only tu think, Seth, how we run!” v “An’ only tu think how yu stepped yu’re big foot intu my_best hat.’” “Oh, Seth, I was so 'cited for fear thé boat would go off an’ leave us.’” “Baht Why didn’t yu keep cool same’s I did? T knowed the thing weren’t a-goin’.”” “But what made yurun solike blazes, then?” ask- his son. : “Yu ’Lonzo Buckins—-yu hold _yu’re tongue, or [ll warm yu’re jacket for yu,” said his father; and that young hopeful picked up his bag and began to walk away. “Here, "Lonzo, yu stay right here,’’ said his moth- er. “Yu might get drowned or blowed up if yu get outof our sight.” — “Please get out of the gangway,” said a deckhand, hustling them out of the way. “Gangway! Whar in thunder is a feller goin’?”’ demanded the old man. “Go up stairs on deck.” ; They all got into the crowd which blocked up the waist of the boat, ‘Here, Pll show you,” said Shorty, speaking to the eS husband and father. 4 “Mush ’bleged tu yu. Yu see this is the fust time we've ever been tu York, an’ we don’t know much *bout steamboats.”’ cg ‘Dats all right.. I'll fix yer, Come’long;” and he led the way forward, followed by the whole family with fear and trembling. 5 Arriving at the engine-room, and seeing no one there, he motioned them in to take the finely uphol- Stered seats which adorned the room, *Dere yer be. Sit right down, an’ make yerselves ter home,” said he, “Gosh! But this’s nice,” suggested the old man, “Red velvet! Oh, I’ve hearn tell how nice they have these boats rigged up,” said the wife, “What's that thar?” he asked, pointing to the highly polished mechanism of the ponderous en- 16. “Oh, that’s der machinery dat makes her go.”* “Yu don’t go for tu say so! An’ can we see if?” | “Cert. Take seats an’ wait, but if any duffer tries ter fire yer out, don’t go.” “What for?” ‘Well, Vil tell yer. Yer see disis der boss place, an’ everybody's tryin’ ter getit. But yer here fust, ole man, an’ don’t yer let any snoozer fire yer out; understand ?”” “Yu betJ du: They can’t play none of their rutes on me, if I be green.” “That's right. Tllsee yer some more bimeby,” said Shorty, turning away. . “Waal, that’s nice of him,” said the wife. “Yas; putty nice sort of a little chap.” ‘He looks like that chap they used to talk about in The Boys of New York. Shorty «they called him,’} said the boy. : “Guess not. He's got somethin’ tu du with the boat, I’m sure,” said his mother. “But arn’t that nice?” said the old man, pointing at the machinery. “Yes; but arn’t these seats nice?’ and she bobbed herself up and down on the cushions in order to test their upholstery. They had now taken possession of the engineer’s seen and seated themselves for the journey to New ork, Shorty lingered around where he could see what transpired without being seen himself. They were there fully five minutes before the en- gineer made his appearance and recognized the fam- iy group, having seen them when they came on the oat. “Halloo! what are you folng: here?” he asked, smiling, though, in spite of himself, for just then Seth was trying to wipe the bruises: and wrinkles out of his hat with the sleeve of his coat. “Doin’? Why, sittin’ down. Don’t yu see what we're doin’?”’ asked the head of the family, looking up resentfully, for he instantly suspected that the questioner was one of the fellows whom Shorty had spoken about, who wished to get their places away from them. ~ SEL: “Well, you can't stay here,” “Can't?” - “No, No one allowed in this room.” “Git out! Whatare yu here for, then?” “This is my room; I’m the engineer.” ‘J don’t care a darnif yu’re the captain, yu can’t pull me out of my seat, yu bet,” : “One of the officers put us here, an’ told us tu stay here just as long as we wanted tu,” said the wife. : ‘What nonsense. Somebody has played a joke on you. Come, vacate!” ee a q “Not much; I know yu’re little game, Yu want tu get our seats.” ‘ ‘Yes, that’s just exactly what I want.” “Waal, yu can’t du it.” “Qan’t?? “Not unless yu are stronger’n I be,” said the old fellow, leaping to his.feet, and smaeking his fists to- gether savagely. “Now I don’t want any trouble with you, for I know that somebody has played a joke on you, but you must get out.” : Soak “Dll bet that was Shorty, Jimmy,” said Alonzo, whispering to his brother. The engineer rang a bell which summoned five or six stalwart coal heavers. pune will you leave, orshallI have you snaked ou ; “Snaked be darned—I —” ‘Hold on, Seth, maybe he’s right,” said the wife. ‘But yer hern with that little man said?’ “Well, maybe he was wrong.’? “He was niost likely a joker.” At that instant the pilot pulled the hammer which struck the big gong just over their heads, and with a yell they fled from the room, This created a loud laugh, of course, and as the en- gineer took the “bar’”’ to work the engine from the instructions which he received through the bell from the pilot, he sent the coal-heavers back to their fire- rooms and turned his whole attention to business. The frightened family, just as sdon as they saw ‘that nothing had exploded, and that they were still in the land of the living, ventured cautiously back and took a look at the machinery now in motion. “Jewhittiker, S’phrony, how’s that?” asked the old man. ‘Look at her!’’ d S'phrony was astonished into muteness. “Say, yu, is she goin’ now?” he ventured to ask. But the engineer did not reply. It was evident, howeyer, that he hada. right there and they had not. So there was no other conclusion to arrive at except that they had been made the vic- tims of a practical joke. After watching the ponderous engine for a few minutes, they sauntered aft, and finally found them- selves on the after deck, where hundreds of others were congregated, 7 : “What I want, S’phrony, is tu find that are little cuss as told us to stay thar,” said he, as all five of ce lagged their bags and bundles along with them. ; i “Tan’ sakes, Seth, maybe he didn’t know,” said she, in a coneiliatcry tone. r ; “Maybe! Thunder! He played }; darned trick on us, an’ I’m goin’ tu spank’ him aforeI get tu New ‘York, see *fI dont.” They all managed to get seats together, and had got down to enjoying the thing, when Shorty, from among the crowd where he kept out of sight, yelled: “Tickets!"’ and the old fellow leaped to his feet. “By gosh, S’phrony! Is’pose I’ve got to pay all
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8 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, that money now. Where is it?’ he asked, looking @round, “Down stairs,” suggested someone. “Oh!” and away he started, ‘Du be keerful, Seth,’an’ not fall into the water,” called his wife. Shorty continued to follow him without being ob- served, and after inquiring of nearly everybody on board the boat where the pics was to pay fare, he finally managed to find the captain’s office. But there was a long line of passengers awaiting their turn, “Whar’s the captain of this ’ere boat?” he called, loudly. Someone pointed to the window where the clerk was exchanging tickets for money, and away he ESTE : was the supper gong, which reverated through the boat and made the usual horrible noise. ‘ The whole family huddled together, and stood as though expecting the next minute was to be their last. But the mystery was soon explained, anda grand rush was made for the dining-cabins, although our friends did nothing of the kind, No—no. They had their grub with them, and get- ting on the forward deck, they proceeded to go for it as though nearly starved. Shorty had no appetite for supper so long as there was any fun to be had, and so _he lingered in the vi- cinity of the countryman and his family, and watch- ed his chances. es » “Gracious, S’phrony! isn’t this high?” asked the cad I (( SEN AN ‘ “Don’t be a fule, S'phrony!” and he started to- ward the door behind which Shorty was hidden, He came upon him unawares, and recognizing him at a glance, he at once knew thathe had played the joke on him, “Come here, yu little runt,” said be, seizing him by the collar. “Oh—oh! lemme bet”’ said Shorty. “No, yii. don’t; I’ve got yu now; come ‘loug;’ and he pulled him out upon the deck and into the pres- ence of his astonished family. “What's der matter wid you?’ “Yu rascal, what’re yu tryin’ to scare us for?” he asked, shaking him roughly, “I didn’t do noffin’,”’ whined Shorty. a “Confound your little doggoned, onery pate! what the devil did you catch hold of me for?’ “I wanted yer,” said Shorty. \‘‘ Yes, we wanted yer,” added Shorty, Jr. bolted, treading on numerous corns, and pushing people this way and that, and tried to force a pas- sage up to head-quarters. ‘ “Stand back!’” ~ “Get out!” ¢ “What are you doing?” “Get into line and take your turn!’’ and other shouts greeted him, “Whar is it!” he asked, wildly. “Get back there into line!” “Gol darn it, whar is it?” '_ He was finally uustled from one place to another, when he tried to break into the line and get some other person’s place, until he reached the end of the line with about fifty ahead of him. : “Waal, ll be darned! I hope tu gracious you’re satisfied now,’’ he mutterea. ‘Look out for yer pocket-books!” cried Shorty; and quick as a flash the old countryman grabbed his pocket in which he had his money, and glared say- agely and wildly around. “Darn ther skunk that goes tu feelin’ ‘round my clothes,” said he, and everybody laughed immod- ‘eratel At that instant another passenger, who had taken # position behind him on the line, happened to jostle against the old fellow, and he quickly turned and knocked him down. ~~ ! 4 This created » wild excitement, for, taken in con- nection with Shorty’s warning, everybody seemed to lea et a pickpocket was actually at work in the crowd) (tix : Mei f But the officers and deck-hands soon straightened matters out, and kept a watch upon the suspected passenger uitil he had obtained his ticket and got away from the:crowd. ‘ \ » But the old fellow had been delayed so long that kis wife became anxions about him,and so the whole family went in search of him. The next thing $o frighten them almost to death old fellow, glancing around, with his big mouth full of provender. , “Seth, it’s tremenjus,”’ said she, “Took out!’ shouted Shorty, from behind a door. The entire family arose to their feet, tipping over their victuals, and creating quite a sensation. “Where is it?” asked the man, gazing wildly around, for notwithstanding the beauty by which he was surrounded, he still had a dim idea that danger in some shape or other, hovered over them, “Du you see anything, Seth?” “No; but——” “T guess something’s going tu burst,”’ said the daeghter, clinging to the frightened mother. “Maybe, but let’s all stick tugether, an’ if wurst comes to wurst, we'll all die together.” ‘Nonsense; I don’t b’lieve it’s anything” said the father, picklng up the spilled doughnuts. , They finally came to the conclusion the alarm did not proceed from any imminent danger that threat- eae them, and were soon munching their supper again, HED Shorty was watching them, and after they got well onl ARAN, he pushed the door open and once more yelled: ; e ; “Took out! Go for der life preservers!”’ “Oh, Lord! -I knowed it!” ‘Dear me! oh, mama, save me!” yelled the daugh- ter, clinging to her mother. “What in thunder—-” and Seth again got up and began to look around. . ; Nobody else -ppeared to be frightened, and there was no indication of danger, and the thought struck him that the same old joker was at work again. “T say, S’phrony, du ‘4 take?” he asked. “Take what?’ she asked, jooking around. “Wait a minit,” and he started to look for the sur- posed joker. “Don’t leave us, Seth, for I’m ’fraid,” “¥u didn’t, eh? How "bout puttin’ us down in that thar biler-room?”’ ‘Yes, how "bout that?’ put in the wife. “Te wern’t me; lemme go.” “Notmuch, Yu've had yu’re fun, now Vil have mine;” and suiting the action to the word, he seized the runt by the slack of his trousers and the collar of his coat, lifted him up to a horizontal position,and swinging him backward and forward once or twice, banged him head first against the partition, driving his new hat over his eyes, and making it even a worse wreck than the old one was, . Shorty was yelling bloody murder, and the family was encouraging the old man to go in and pay the whole bill at once. 4 y Finally he stood him on hisfeet again, “Thar, yu ornery cuss,how du yu like that?” he ask- ed, triumphantly, | Shorty was trying to pull himself out of his hat,that was smashed clear down to his shoulders, } Finally he got out of it,and getting himself toget}- eras speedily as possible, he started for his state- room, a badly-banged and demoralized joker, He had once more awakened the wrong pas- senger. este i . “Go,consarn yure runty picter,an’ if yu try tu come any more of yure jimcracks ’round me,I'll fix yu so yure mother won’t know yu,” shouted the old fellow after him. Shore. made no reply, and never stopped to ask for further particulars. He had got all he wanted, This trip to Albany had been a dear one, having cost him two hats and considerable rough usage. “Quess I'd Letter sell out,” he muttered, as he closed his state-room door; ‘I don’t seem tu have much fun any more, an’ everybody else has fun wid. me, But.I'll get hunk wid dat ole haymow afore we get ter New York, or my name isn’t S&korty, an’ I | arn’t in search of iny dad.” ‘
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x CHAPTER VI. {Iv was now dark, and the noble Drew was speeding her way down the Hudson towards New York from Albany. 7 “ “1! get hunk on dat ole dufferor ast,” he mut- tered, trying to get his hatintosomeyyape, ‘Dat’s two ‘dicers’ dat dis job’scost me. Hav¥>ter buy my hats by der case, I guess.’’ “As for the countryman, he and his \ yily felt first-rate over the aftarr, and laughed loud boa long, as did several others who witnessed the racket. “Goldarn his little pieter, [reckon he won’t fule *round me much more, Ther darn skunk,” he added, addressing those who stood around, “why, what du yu think he did tu us, fust off?” SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, be some darned contrivin’ plan,” and he winked at her very wisely, as much as to say that somebody wanted to steal her away from him. . “That’s so. We'll take the children back up stairs an’ set up all night so as tu be ready for ’em if they *tempt to play anything rusty on us,” “All right.”” By this time, however, the two boys had got into their bunks and were asleep. To wake them again was almost an impossibility, although both of the parents yelled until other people in the cabin, who were trying to get to sleep, began to yell at them um return, and to give them all sorts of growled ad- vice. : Finally{they concluded to let the boys sleep, and in order to make sure of where they were so as to be ml ; gre fase nay SS san T aT TTT Hv adh Dig GN eR HU Hid ; i He a 5 . Ny ) | au uy 7 2S SSS Placing the fire-cracker on top of the bag which the old fellow held between his knees, he lighted the fuse, and stepped aside to await results, The explosion startled everybody in the saloon,and the next instant the air was full of flying bags, boxes, arms, legs, petticoats, hats and yells as the old man and woman leaped upward from their seats, and re- volved once or twice in the air, ; “Oh! ah! wah! she’s bust!” exclaimed the old farmer, coming down squash upon his wife’s band- box, and smashing it as Sat asa pancake. “Seth—oh, Seth, save me!” whined the old wom- an, crawling ouf from behind a sofa where she had landed when she came down. The crowd roared with laughter, and an officez rushed forward to see what it all meant ° fl \ ) Wy, \ y BENS AQ, i] Ws: a : iN | j Myint WY i “LU tell yer all about it, jedge,” said Shorty, but ‘the judge was pounding for order, and the spectators were convulsed with laughter. “Give it up,” said someone, “Waal, I guess yu better for yu’dinever guess. Yu see as how weneverrid on a steamboat afore, an’ we didn’t know whar tu go in the darned thing, an’ that little rascal took us down intu the biler room whar the engineer stays, an’ told us it war the best lace in the boat, an’ not tu let anybody put us out. ‘act, 1 snummy, an’Icum darned ‘near lickin’ the engineer cause he wanted us tu get out. How’s that for deviltrum?” and he ha-ha’d loudly. 4 Everybody laughed, but the old fellow didn’t seem to see that it was at his expense, and appeared tore- gard himself as a hero. eas “They can’t play rates on me if I never did ride on a steamboat afore,” he added, with a warning shake of his head, : ee Well, Shorty kept out of sight for awhile during all this, and the countryman and his family wandered from one end of the boat to the other, commenting on everything, and bothering everybody with their questions, Ehceh one of them clung to their carpet- bag and bundles, for they were so fearful of losing them that they kept a death like grip on everything that they owned, and would not set them down eyen fora moment, “ But presently the children began to feel sleepy and to ask where their beds were, One of the porters showed them down into the cabin where their berths were located, | They were scattered around in dif- ferent places througkout the big cabin, and it was fully, half an hour before they were allspotted. Even then there was no benk for the old woman and the daughter, and it required considerable argument, to convince them that it was necessary for everything _ wearing petticoats to sleepin another part of the bo: eterna : é She wouldn’t have it. She “kicked” like a mule at the idea: of sleeping away from her husband, and. finally he kicked as well. - : at’s right, S'phrony, I won't leave yu. Yt may able to find them quickly should anything happen, the old man drew a piece of charcoal from his pock- et and made a black cross on the white partition just over each of their berths. But every now and then somebody would yell at them from their berths, and tell them to dry up and cleat out, so disgusted were they at their doings. ’ “Goldarn yu, I don’t know how many there is on yu, but I ken lick "bout twenty o’ yu if yu'll only come out an’ take it,’ he said, as they were about |. leaving the cabin, , “Go shoot yourself, old Hayseed!” “Give your chin a rest!” “Button up your lip!’ “Pull down your vest!’ : “Go jump overboard!” and a dozen other calls wer hurled at him. However, he paid no further attention to them, but started up to the saloon deck resolyed on sleeping there in the luxurious chairs. And by this time they were all tired enough to go to eos Days and after selecting a good locality, they all doubled up and proceeded to snore. By this time Shorty had got slicked up again, and now putin an appearance. He took in the situation at a glance, and saw that whoever made it lively for the countryman would be popular. Taking a large fire-cracker, which he happened to have in his pocket, Shorty stealthily approached the old fellow, who sat with a carpet-bag in each hand, on either side of the chair, and with another one be- tween his legs. 2 But asleep though he was, he never relaxed his grip on the bags. Neither did his wife, who had artfully arranged her boxes and bundles in such a way as to be awakened the instant anyone should touch either of them. ; . Twenty or thirty passengers who were in the saloon gathered around to see what Shorty was about to do. They knew him. : “Stop her—stop her! She’s bust!” “Run for the boys, Seth!” A By this time he comprehended the fact that people were laughing instead of being alarmed. ° rr “What in thunder——”’ he muttered. “Oh, Seth, what is it?” “Waal, that’s kersactly what i’d like tu know,” said he, getting up from her flattened bandbox, “Are you sure she hasn’t burst, Seth?” This produced another laugh.» Z ; “What is the trouble here?’ asked the officer, working his way through the crowd, “Oh, mister, what is it?” asked the wife, tearfully. “T)fat’s what I'd like to find out,” : ‘Did yu hear her?”’ “Who? . ‘*When she went off?” - “Where?” “When she burst?” “What?? “I thort she’d bust all tu pieces!” “Well, what was the noise, anyway?” , “Oapting, that beats me. As I said afore, I don know, but it sent us both up.” The crowd laughed again. “Darned if, I don’t b’leve somebody played a trick onus. Whar’s that little runt?” asked the old man, looking aronnd'for Shorty. “Thar he is, by thun- der!’’ he exclaimed, catching a sight of Shorty, whe was, like the others, convulsed with laughter. “How yer was, ole man?’ he asked, - “Better look out for me, Mr. Runt,” he said. “What's der matter?” “T dou’t know; but if I catch you foolin’ round me Vl spile yer. beauty.” : ‘ “Oh, swim out!” » 3 : “What?” they both exclaimed. f ne “Yer over yer head, ole man!” z : “What are you doing here, anyway?” asked the officer. : : fae R *
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30 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. Bis ae “Waal, we war takin’ a snooze.” “Tat's see your tickets.” ‘Look out, Seth,” put in his wife; “it may be some kind 0’ a trick to steal yer tickets,” “Show me your vickets!’” The old fellow produced them. “These are cabin tickets}; you want to go below,” aaid he, pointing the way. “But I don’t want tu go.” “Well, you must!” ‘Dogone it, I won’t! I've paid my fare on this ere steamboat, an’ I’m goin’ tu ride.” “All right, but you must go where you belong, Some, hurry up.” f “Dang it, I thort yu wanted us to hurry down!” “Well, hurry down, then,” “Ffow much will it cost to stay here?” - “Only stateroom passengers have a right in this saloon, and as there ate no more staterooms on this trip, you will have to go below, anyway.” : &Gol darn yer old scow, anyway! Hver catch me ridin’ on it ag‘in, an’ ye’ll catch a white blackbird, yu bet,” / ; Picking up their scattered baggage, they started along toward the stairway, -- ' “Good-by, Séthy, ole man,’’ said Shorty, laughing. “Goldarn yer picter!’’ and the old fellow made a dive for him. . ee But Shorty got out of the way by dodging behind some of the passengers, and the old fellowfwas seized by a couple of colored porters. He struggled fiercely, but they rushed him down stairs followed by his wife and daughter, It was a terrible infliction, but he had to go into the gentiémen’s cabin, and the others into the ladies’, which, of course,’ parted them for the re- mainder of the night, alchough neither of them slept much, . Be “Dat’s square wid one of dem,” mused Shorty, as he afte: ward waddled away to his stateroom. What ever became of them he never knew, for he slept late the next morning, and nearly évery- body had gone ashore when he got up in New ork. : The first thing he did was to take a carriage and drive to a hat store, where a new cady took the place of the ane into which he had been driven by che indignant old countryman, after which he went 7 home, : The Kid, Shorty, Jr., was anxiously waiting, and glad to see him, for he had beén studying up devil- try during his absence, and had one or two cabs all _teady to werk on hin, “How yer was, dad?"” he asked. “Vine’s a new hat. ‘Tell me somethin’.”” “Got nuffin’. “How’s der ole hen?” asked Shorty, referring to Bp the woman with whom Bey. boarded, *Oh, she's cacklin’ yet. Did yer find yer dad?” “Well, not much.” : 4 “How much?” “ound der same old rooster dat we met in der @ran’ Central Depot.” : ae exclaimed the Kid, laughing, *What did hesay?” “Say! What did he do?” { “Fired yer out!” @horty laughed, but made no reply. “Y say, ole mau.” 9. i “Say what??? “Yer wants / ing louder than ever, 5 horty had nothing to say. His mind was busy with trying tothink how te should work it to get nare with Sergeant; Polly forthe trick he had played upon him through the! letter of introduction to Mr. Bundle, up at Albany. f® That day he received a letter from his old pal and jepeatln Shanks, asking him to meet him at the {thy avenue hotel tle following day, on his arrival from Buffalo, as he had a proposition to make to him, this letter pleased him very much, for he had not . feard from Shanks ina long time, and had almost Jost sight and metmory of him, and both he and the Kid Jooked forward to the neeting with much pleas- ure, for they had enjoyed mauy happy hours with his lathy nibs, - But first of all to get hunk with Polly. The ex-Sergeant was a bachelor, and one who prid- ed himself on it. Sherty knew this, and coucludéd to work a racket on that point, Shorty had a negro waslierwoman with whom he was on good terms, of course, 4s he always paid her @ good price for her work; and some years before she had been married to a white man, who got pos- session of a few hundred dollars sie had saved up, and decamped with it, since which time she had not seen of heard anything of him, This was a sore spot in her life, and she was con- tinually talking about it, When she brought the washing that afternoon, Shorty said to her: Ls “Chloe, would yer kuow dat husband o£ yours if yer seen him?” “Why, chile, I don’t know. Why?” asked she, “TE think I know hith,”? said Shorty. F, “Oh, Lor’, chile, yer don’t say sol” “What name did he marry you by?” “Sam Johnson.” | “Allright, He used ter wear whiskers, yer say?” “Vas, all ober liis'face.”’ “Good ’nuugh. | He’s shaved up now, an’ only wears a shoe-brush on his upper lip, an’ sings der mame of Polly.’ , : “Golly !7 “No—Poliy.” “Where am he?” “t know whee he hangs out.” ter get yerself upholstered if yer goin’ | Inter der daddy business much,” said the Kid, faugh- “Tell me, Mr. Shorty, an’ I go fo’ him shuah!” “Will yer—will yer have hii ’rested?” “Honey, I make him gib me back dat fhree hun- dred dollars, or E shove hitn tp,” “No: yer wants ter ’rest him for *bandonment.” _ “Treat him anyway,” “Ailrizht. Coie right long wid me,”’ and he hur- ried her over to the Jefferson Market Police Court, only a little distance away, Here he steered her,and helped make ont the com- plaint, on which a warrant Was made out for the ar- rest of his old friend Polly, and in less than an hour he was tuken before the judge, “What isthe meaning of this?’ he demanded, for he saw nobody around whom he recognized, “Well, it means that you are arrested,’’ said the judge, who somehow half suspected a joko, “But what for?’ asked Polly, indignantly. * “For abandonment,” “For abandoning who?” “Your wife.” “Good Heavens! There’sa mistake here, I have no wife, judge.” ; ‘Mrs. Johnson, step forward.” The wench approached and lifted her veil, “Good God!” exclaimed the victin, while a ripple of laughter ran through the court-room. : Pete Johnson, is this your husvand?” asked the judge. « j “Jeidgze, fo’ de Lor’ I ken scarcely tell. He hab chop’ his whiskers off since he ran* away from ime wid my fhree lundred dollars: But I amshuah dat he am de scoundrel,” said she,while Polly nearly fell to the floor,” ‘Have you any witnesses?” ; _Jedge, daram one ob my customers dat knows him. “Where is he?” yas Just then Shorty walked forward. “Good Heavens!” exclaimed Polly, gs) ringing to- yaige him. ‘What is the meaning of all this, Shor- Cy Pures { “Be you der court?” asked Shorty, l6oking at him with a sneer. “But you —” “Who are you?’ demanded the judge. “Tm der original Shorty,” “Do you know the prisoner?” § “T's seen him afore, jedge.” 4 : “Do you know whether this woman is his wife or “Well, I shouldn’t wonder. He's on it.” : “Shorty,what do youlmean?” pleaded Polly, who was so utterly confused that he didn’t tumble to it that the whole thing was a joke. ‘ “IT don’t want ter talk wid you.” } “Silence, prisoner! What else do you know abou the case?” asked the judge, addressing Shorty. “T don’t know nuffin’ "bout it,only dis ole gal works for me, and some white duffer married her for her money an’ den skipped. She asked my advice, an’ I told her dat de ony, man dat I should suspect was ann and she had him snatched in here,” repliea orty, “Oli, you rascal, this is one of you rackets,” said Polly, laughing. “No, sir; itis one of mine,” said the judge, “But there is nothing in it.” “We shall see,” ' 5 “But this Shorty is one of the worst jokers in the world, and he has put this up on me.” “We shall be sure of that. Mrs. Johnson, do you recognize the gentleman as your husband?” “Jedge, yer see I didn't kuow him long, an’ it’s been five yeah since he lit out on me.” * But have you no means of telling?” “Lcan't sw'ar ter him, jedge, butif he'll gib me back my Sasa luf him go.” “Judge, this is a most outrageous and ridicnlous farce, I never saw this woman before in my life; atid doLIlook like a person who would marry a ue- gro wench?” demanded the victim, “Well, we can’t curs tell. 1come scross some queer people here,” said the judge, smiling. “But Lcan produce a host of wituesses who have known me for ree Tassure you that it is alla ike put up by that little runt,” said he, pointing. to Shorty. “16 ae be; but this lady evidently does not regard it asa joke, You had better give her back her mon- ? “But I never took any money from her; never saw her before in my life that 1 know of.” “Look out for taffy, judge,” said Shorty. *“T think Vi hold you until you can send for wit- nssses,”’ said the judge. “What! will you compel me fo humiliate myself in this manner and give this little rascal the dead wood on me? ~ “Does he talk like your husband, Mrs, John- son?” asked the judg#, turning to the confused wo- nian, “He war a oe a sweet chinner, buzzed ie out ob fliree hundred doll dat I earn washin’,” said she, “But do you recognize his voice?’” “f can't say dat Ido, but I wauts my fhree hun- dred dollars.” “Oh,-well, if you can’t swear that he is the man who married you, I shall have to discharge him. What do you say?” ' “F cubs it up, judge; only I wants my money.” “You had evidently rather have your money than your husband, Well, I can’t blame you mueh, bute f shall discharge this man until yeu are able to pro- duce more proof of what you say.’’ fam I discharged?’ asked Polly. es." , “Oh. what a wretched farce! Whereis that little duffer!’’ he asked, glancing around, jedge, fo’ he lars, clean cash But Shorty had skipped out and was nowhere to be found, and while he was explaining the matter to the cours and the reporters, the woman also dis- appeared, 1 ; r “Judge, I don’t mind a joke, but this is rather a grim one, I played a trick ou him the other day, and he put up this racket to get square with me. He is the worst in the world, and you certainly must have heard of him.” °° : “Oh, yes, 1 have often heard of his pranks, Butt advise you to let him alone tu the futare,for he came wed near gutting you into a bad snap,” said the udge, : “That’s so; but’ he wouldn’t have carried it far enough toinjnire me, I know him, In fact, I was the firrt one that brought him out years ago. Bat Vil get ntl with him for this,” \ All hinds enjoyed a hearty langh over the case,and after being assured. by the reporters that they would say nothing about it in the papers, he Sreated all hands, and then started for home, sick ot joking, That evening he received the following very char- acteristic letter from Shorty: “OLe Manit—How yer was? Want ter play some more rackets on me? How *bout dat wench. Guess I's square now. : Seorry.” “Well, I guess he is,” mused Polly, “but if I don’t make im sick yet, Pll get sicker than Iam now, i e * \ : a night Shorty and the Kid went for their land- ady. ‘ f 2 They paid her a big price, but she gave “queer” grub, and so they resolved.on a hurrah at her ex- pense,determined to geé their money's worth in that way if in no other, Seat ‘ So they get a mask and made a dummy man, which | they placed in her bed, and when she saw it she raised the house, the neighbors an about two minutes with her yells, 53 4 It created a big disturbance, but the boarders had a& pellyga of fun out of it, and better grub after wards. . te OEE aeeaaRS But the next thing on the programme was their old friend Slianks, : 3 eae i the meantime, -howéver, how about Shoriy’s th i S ‘the police in CHAPTER ‘VI. ? i Tae next evening both Shorty and the Kid were at the Fifth Avenue Hotel at the appointed hour to meet Shanks, ; ey And Shanks was there to meet them,’ — I take it for granted that the readers know Shanks “ almost as well as they do Shorty, ; < i But they had not met in along time, and Shanks had changed considerably, ‘ 4 “The meeting between them was ofjthé most cordial kind, and going to Shanks’ room, he ordered & bottle, and they sat down for a4 talk. y “It’s good for der tootlache to see. yer, ole man,” said Shorty, after they were seated, : Y “Dat’s'so,” added the Kid.) } ; “Well. Shorty, I’m deuced glad to sea both you and the Kid, How have you been all the while?” ask- ed Shanks. : ; ‘ ; “Wine’s a next year’s silk hat.” “Ahd the bantam?’ he asked, pulling Sherty, Jr.'s, - ear. “Oh, he’s too nealthy altogeder,” said Sherty. - “Pull of deviltry yet?” : “Wus an’ wus! Slankey, ole man, dat kid'll bring: my grey wig down with sorrow ter der pawnshop, and Shorty tried to look like a grief-strickeu parent, at which Shanks laughed merrity. “Dat arn’t 80, Silankey, I’m better ter my dad den he is ter his’p,” said the Kid. “Guess dat’s so,”” mused the old man, “But yon must remember that he’s only a ehip ot | the ol«t block.’” “Chip! He bosses der ole block.” “Den who's der blockhead or blockahead?" “Oh, take a twist in yer gab pipe.” ; “Giad it arn't a gas pipe.” “Well, Shankey, tell us somethin’ "bent yergel& Where yer been all der while?” asked Shorty, turaing the subject, : ! “Been—been almost everywhere.” “Been in der show big?" “No; but I’ve been making a holy show of myself a. good purt of the time,” “How?” 7 “Wel, soon after we split I took it info my head start speenlation, This took me'to 'Frisen, the head- Quarters of specalating, and then [ went inte buying mining stock, Ipnt all my money ito it, aud im less than a week J put it ous,” “What—scoepad?* “Cleaned,” “Well?” “But I pulled myself together again; rained a taw hundreds on my sparks, and went in again, This time Imade, Came ont athousand ahead. Then L went in again, and in less than six months I was worth nearly halfa million.” “Whew!” exclaimed both of his listeners, - “Fact; but I didn’t take ivall away withme, On wish LT had, Well, business began to look shaky, au I bought a mine. That settled me, It sank me before Leould sink a shaft.” % *Scooped again?” ; Ssh “Aetnally wiped, But I sold ont for enongh to take me to Australia, and away I went, still determined to get even somehow. Then I had all sorts of adven- tures—from peddling tobacco, to rnaning & cirens, To make a long story bobetailed, Lhave heen fiddling around Anstralia, Russia, China, Japan, Turkey, Ita- ly, Germany, France, Buglaad, and bere I am, with 4
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—————————— $e SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. only two or three hundred dollars left to show forn or , “Well, Shankey, ole man, 1 don’t wonder dat yer looked changed,” said Shorty, “Why, dad, he says dere arn’t much ‘change’ in him,” said the Kid, “*No place like home, is dere?” : “You are right, Shorty; there’s no place like the boss country, America, and if anybody don’t whistle the tune that way, why, let em try it as I have,’’suid Shanks, Jy “Now yer shout it. Weil, what yer goin’ to do now?” * “Well, ask me an eusier one; I'm here and I’Jl see what lcan get my finger into.” “Oh, der’s lots of things,” said the Kid. 7 “But now tell me something about yourself, Shorty. You don’: seem to have changed much; you look as ifthe world was using you pretty well. What aré you up to?” “Well, ny principal biz lately has been searchin’ for my dad,’ , : “Your what?’ asked Shanks, while the Kid roared with laughter, “Shut up, you little runt!” yelled Shorty; “I wish you didn’t have a dad.” - “So do I,so I could have some fun looking for m, : ; ‘ “What is this you are giving me, Shorty?” “Plumb biz, Shankey.”” ‘ “Searchiig for your dad? I don’t understand.” “Well; I don’t exactly. Maybe you’ remember der story of my life.» “Yes, You were found somewhere.” | “Yer, an’ dragged up, and kicked inter good luck. Well, yer see, Shanky, {-loafed around an? lived on my ‘shug’ for several years, an’ one day I read a story in The Boys of New: York ‘bout a chap) as was found somethin’ sanie’s I was,who found hisdad and everythin’ was hunky. So Iy made upimy mind dat on fo my dad an' know who I am.) Dat’s der wig- gle of it, 4 “Well, have you found him yet?” “Not much; not ter any great extent, But I’ve tried several times,” said hie,with @ broad grin which caused the Kid to laugh loudly, “But what clews have you?” ; “Not a clew, only a fortune-teller told me ter go for a little old duffer wid a wart on his bugle.” “And have you found such a person?” “Two or three of 'em.’ “And they weren’t the right ones?” “Well, they rather seemed ter shake der honor of pein) responsible forme, But I haven’t given up der racket yet.” “That beats me, Shorty,’’ said Shanks, laughing. “So it does me, ole man,’” “The idea of your ever having adad. And yet of course you must have had one, But that’s the last business out, searching fora father whom you never saw that you know of. Attlhe same time you may find him, after all.’ Stranger things have happened in this romance called living.” : “Oh, CH find him yet, yer bet. Der fact is, ole et Coals die happy without having a paternal spankin’. ; “Den I oughter die happy,” said Shorty, Jr. - “I’m afraid. dat ver won't. You'll die wid yer boots om some Gay for playin’ yer tricks.” “Well, I don’t care, Vil die with a grin on.” Shine 80 you have got all your money yet?” mused anks. . +X ' 5 “Yes, and had a bang-up time on der interest.” “Then I suppose you have given up the show busi- ness altogether?” bat teitek “Yes, Haven't blecked up since I saw yer.” “And have no notion of doing so again?” ‘Well, I d'know. It’ awful dull, But I manage ter have a little fun now an’ then, an’ my big biz is ‘ ter bring up der Kid in der way he should go, an’ fiud his granddaddy.” m “Then I guess you have got your hands full.” “You bet Iliave, Shankey.”” “Well, I'd like to start some sortgof a show on the road if I had the money. Loan me a thousand.” An’ let me go wid him,” added the Kid. “That’s so; I'll give you an interestin it, besides paying you the thousand,” “Biz ts bad on der road now,ole man,” said Shorty, thoughtfully, ‘BoLhear. But if you willlend me your name, and let me take the Kid, I'll bet can make a barrel of money,” said Shanks, earnestly. “Dat’s s0, dad,” added Shorty, Jr. “Nobody makin’ a cent but Tony Pastor.” “I don’t care, Vil risk it. and if you will only go along, we can even lay over Tony.” Shorty was thoughtful, and Shanks filled up his glass from the bottle, E “And so far ag finding your father is concerned, you will etand just as good a chance while out on the road as you do here in New York. I would like to have you go along devilish well.” “Let’s go, dad,” said the Kid. “Only think what fun we used to have when we were traveling,” a “Bunt Pin steady now.’ said Shorty. “Steady drirker,” whispered hig son. “The idea of you're getting steady!” “Fact. Don't play no rackets auy more,” ~ At thishoth Shanks and the Kid laughed heartily, and Shorty drained his glass. : “Only when yer gets a chance,” “Shorty, say you'll go.” Pete . “What kind of a show der yer think ter start?” “Nigger business—wouldn’t you?” “Nixey. Played.” © “Well, whar is your idea?” : “Variety. Dat takes der cake.” a4; “It would, if you and the Kid should go. Well; how + * eh? kt would something like this go: Everybody knows you,” “All but my dad.” “Well, we'll underline on the bills that you are in search of your dad. Maybe that wonld not only bea card, busif the old rooster is still in the Jand of the living, it will feteh hin: out,” “Guess it would, il go wid yer, Shankey,”’ said he, after a moment’s reflection, “You willl” exclaimed Snauks, leaping to his feet and overturning the table. “Great graft!” “Hooray!” yelled the Kid, throwing up his hat and catchin| “Qrawl down yerself!” cried the Kid, and they kept right on with their music. 4% ‘ Hoe that noise, or I'll call the police!” “Call yer grandmother if yer want to." | re And again the old fellow pounded on the wal. ‘Shorty’s Varieties.’ 4 aa By this time the landlacy put in an appearance and wanted to know what the trouble was, “If you don’t put those two runts out of your house, I'll leave this’ very night!” yelled the old man. “Will peca.be aisy, Misther Squilts?” said an, soothingly. “Will you go to the devil, madame?” “Faith, ’m near enough ter him now, so I am’ replied she. “Will you put those vagabonds out?” “Wait till] spake ter ’em,”” And she went into Shorty's room. “Misther Shortness, will yees be aisy for the love of Heaven?” “t will not,” nepuee Shorty, ripping away on his banjo, while the Kid pounded and rattled ‘his tam- borine louder than ever. . “Misther Squilts is onaisy wid yees,” “Tell him ter go shoot himself,” “Troth, he will not.” “Tell him that if he don’t clear 80 yer'll lose two instead oF one.” “Worra—worra! . It’s the divil.yer.rousin’ in moe house, so ye are,’’ said she, beseechingly. Fe t “T know it. e heard him pourdins onder wall Fire him out or welll leave yer siianty.”. ~‘ With another “worra—worra,” she trudged back te the old feilow’s room, and once more, tried to. quiet him down, — But he threw-a bottle of ink at. her for | her pains, and it caromed on her nose, and made & nigger of her in three shakes of a skunk’s tai}... “Och, murther! I’m stabbed—l'm stabbed!" 3) yelled, and started for dowy stairs. again.as fast ag ever.a person went who tumbled down, _ fa “We'llwork aracket on dat old duff afore we light . out.” said Shorty. BP sh Tes sy Os 2arel jas “Dat’s so. He wantsit. Le’s go for dat leg dat he pegs wid,” suggested the Kid, This being understood, they went on with their re- hearsing, making all the noise they. could, while the old fellow went on with his swearing, babes But he finally swore himselfito sleep in’ his chair, and allowed Shorty to play away unmolested. At the > end of half an hour they began to wondér what had come over him, and whether he hadn't really left the house as he threatened to do. : So Shorty, Jr., stole to the door of ‘his room to see what had happened, and there beheld the old: fellow asleep in his’ chair, with a bottle of brandy nearly” emptied on the table near him. ‘ JN Shorty was informed of how matters stood, and took a survey of the situation, — K rf f Securing a long, strong cord. he proceeded cautious- ly to fasten one end of it aronnd the boot of his cork Jeg as it lay in the chair in front of him, and then, with considerable difficulty, he managed to throw the other over the chandelier, nearly over the old fel- low’s head, the leg being unstrappéd to give the stump & rest. Niedrdcbies 2h tea de Another thing that Squilfs owned, and which was almost as much of a nuisance as he was himself, was a big, lazy, yellow dog, who was always asleep some- where in hisroom, and nothing léss than a kick would ever move him, five. a On this occasion the dog lay asleep six or eight feet away from his master, and quite near to the door leading to the entry. apa Shorty tied.the other end of the cord to the dog's hindleg, and he was £0 lazy that he barely opened one eye to see what was going on, and finding that he was not liable to be disturbed, he flopped his tail once or twice, and then went ta sleep again. BS When everything was in readiness, the two racket- ers returned to their own room again to perfect their arrangements, é Nats : Then taking the instruments they stole softly into Squilts’ room once more. ‘The Kid took his place hear the dog,with Shorty a jitue furtheraway. When all was ready they struck up a rattling jig as a sort of a serenade,. The old fellow awoke looked up stupidly. For an instant he seémed unable to comprehend the matter, but he soon beheld his little tormentors, an’ seizing his cane, he yelled: 5 “Get out of here, you infernal rascals; get out or I'll knock your heads off!’ : Cake it cooly daddy,” said Shorty. “Take thunder!” ; “We're slaminadin® yer, ole man,” said Shorty, Jr., and they both langhed loudly. “Til slam you, you——” : ' He made a move to get upon his feet, when Shorty, Jr., gave the old dog a terrific kick, causing him to yell and spring for the dooy. : This movement pulled off his master’s cork teg, and drew it up high above his head. The dog was obliged to stop, and Squilt fell sprawl- ing and cursing upon the floor, utterly dumfounded at seeing his leg in the air, ’ h “Whoa, Emma!” yelled the Kid. “Good-by, ole man!” laughed Shorty, as they sud- denly stopped their music and fled from the room amid a perfect shower of oaths, ; They ieft the house, not caring to remain for fear of what might happen, and they laughed over phe racket as they ate their supper at a saloon, SSA he kept the wom- Shel = out dat we will, an’ witha start, and even the dog As for the dog, he was so frightened. that puiling and kicking, thus keeping the leg bobbing up and down near the chandelier, eae It was thus dangling and bobbing When the land- lady rushed into the room to see what all the uproar pmeant; aseshe did not know about her boarder having a false leg, she naturally yelled bloody mur~ der at seeing it in such a position, and ran) down stairsforhelp. ~ y * This,of course, exasperated the old fellow more than ever, and after expending nearly all of hia
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bd breath in yelling after the landlady, he turned his a tion to the dog, and tried to call him back, But that animal was too thoroughly frightened to be either coaxed or commanded, and so he continued to stand there in the entry outside of the room, and howl and kick, The landlady succeeded in getting three or four of her boarders to go up stairs, after telling them that Mr. Squilts’ leg was dancing the devil’s hornpipe on the chandelier, But when they arrived there they hended the situation, released the the owner to get into his chair. But they couldn't stay in the room long after that, for Squilts made it actually sulphurous with his Pablo seE and soon had the satisfaction of being left alone. His only immediate remedy was to abuse the poor old dog, already half frightened to death, but he took an oath on a big dictionary, mistaking it for a bible, that he would spoil every carpet inthe house with the gore of his tormentors. But he didn’t get a chance to do it that night, for eee compre- eg and assisted Shorty concluded that it would be rather too warm ie self there, and so they went to a hotel for ngs. ® next day they stole in, packed their traps, aid their bills, and left word for the landlady to de- iver their trunks to an expressman. And‘glad enough she was to get ridof them, for ever since they had been in the house they had been continually up to some racket or other; and s0 there wereno.tears of regret shed, save by Squilts, who evil sought for their gore. Shorty wanted to be nearer business, anyhow, now that he had business to attend to, and so they took up their abode at the Union Place Hotel to stay there entil ready to start off on the road. : CHAPTER VIIL Ir was now time to hear from Horace Wall, the dramatic agent,who had engaged to proesre a troupe of variety artists for Shorty; and sc ae made ar- rangements to have such as_he did not know come into hisroom at the Union Placé Hotel, and “show up;” that is, show their merits, ’ ; hose, whom he did not know in the business were about-ten to one of those whom ke did know, and while Shanks went on attending to outside matters, Bhorty proceeded to organize his troupe. The hour popolated was ten o’clock, and both Shorty and the Kid were on hand to take it allin, and see how mueh it weighed. About fifty candidates for glory presented them- selves at the hotel,and asked to be shown to Shorty’s parlors; but tiie porter had been “staked,” and worked the business straight, taking up only one or two at a time, leaving the other below stairs, The first one to present himself and be shown up- was a big, strapping fellow, who wished to take the stage namevof the “Great Diabolique,” whose panto- mime and dévil-dance was to take the cake, Bt a looted up at him, and he looked down at orty. ATE you Mr, Shorty?” he asked, “Yes, Lengthy; I’s Mr. Shorty.” “Pm glad to meet you. Heard a great deal about you, and thought I'd like to join your company.” “What's yer biz?” : ‘*Pantomime and devil-dance.” } “Devilish goodidea. Peel and show up.” “But I must have music.” “Juke Alfonso, bring hither my untamed harpsi- chord,” said Shorty, addressing the Kid. ’ “Great Mogul, Lskip,” and the little runt vanished from the room. What's yer name, front an’ back re? “Jabez Brown,” , “An yer wants ter be called der ‘Great ’Merican Diabolique,’ hey?” “Yes, I think that would take,” “Waal, in der fust ee we'll see see whether yer work takes, What, ho! Alfonso!’’ “I’m here, great Mogul,” said the Kid, entering the room with Shorty’s banjo. The candidate for notoriety looked at it in sur- prise. apr “Only a banjo? “What der yer want—a brass band?” “But I want time.” “All right; Vll soon see how much time I'll give yer. What der yer want?” “Give me the ‘Devil’s Hornpipe.’ ”’ “Well, where’s yer togs?”” “T’ve got ’em on.” “Show up.” “All right,” and the candidate proceeded to peel off his outer garments, and presently stood in a pair of black tights, which enveloped his whole’figure,and he looked lik. the very devil. “Good make-up,” said Shorty, after looking him over fora moment. “Now shake,” he added, strik- ing up the * ‘Devil’s Be ee onhis banjo. Phe candidate began to fling himself through one ofthe most wonderful strings of gymnastics ever seen by mortal man, It was wonderful, because it was such a base imitation of the Kiralfys, and was 80 base generally, C The fellow was flinging his ‘‘Saratogas”’ around in the most reckless manner,endangering the windows, mirro; and furniture,-and his reputation as a per- former, pigs Shorty watched him a moment, first with a look of surprise, and then with contempt. Then suddenly stopping the music, he called out: “Halloo! O'Calligan McGuffin! Come hither.’ The performer watched him inquiringly, “How’s that, boss?” y ' SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, “Tl show yer as svon as McGuffin comes in,” said Shorty, and just at that moment the big, closely cropped Irishman made his appearance. “Here I am, sur,” remarked McGuffin. “Do yer hate der devil?” asked Shorty. ‘“Haix, Ido.” “Well, here’s a devilish bad performer. Fire him out. “One!” yelled the Kid. “Two!” cried Shorty. “Bounce!” added McGuffin, and at the same time seizing the astonished “‘devil’’ by the tail and nape of the neck and ryshing him from the room. The fellow yelled, but that did him no good, unless he had wind on his stomach, for McQGuffin knew his business, and was stroug enough to do it! The Shortys laughed loud and long. “Next!? shouted the Kid, whereat a couple of young fellows, dressed in clogs and knee breeches, pranced into the room. “Here we are," said one of them, ‘High kickers?” asked Shorty. “Song an’ dance.” “what'll yer have?” ** ‘Sweet Forget-Me-Not.’” t ae a piece of it; and Shorty started it on his anjo. : The young fellows soon proved that they were no slouches, either as singers or dancers, and Shorty watched them with muchinterest, ~ “How much yer eacklin’ for?” asked Shorty, stop- ping his playing. “Mifty an’ expenses.”’ “Good ’nough; I'll take a hack at yer if yer keep up yer biz that way. Ready ina week?” “All right. Here’s what they call us,’ said one of them, handing him a card, on which was written; “Warson & Enis, “Song and Dance Artists.” “Good nough. Ta—ta;” and Shorty bowed them from the room. - The next to be admitted were a pair of very nobby young men, who wished to sing themselves into pub- lic favor, and first of all to astonish the little gentle- man who had advertised for a company of artists, “What's yer racket?” demanded Shorty. “Our what?” asked one of them. “Yer biz.” S ‘We don’t understand you, sir.” ‘Don’t understan’ me! Well, der yer understan’ yer git up an’ git?” j “We—we don’t exactly comprehend you, sir. We saw your advertisement in. the Clipper for musical talent, and have presented ourselves to let you see what we can do.’ ‘Dat’s allhunk. What der yey do, anyway?” “We are sentimental warblers/’ : “What?” . “We sing sentimental ballads.” “On, dat’s yer chow-chow, eh? Well, open yer lit- tle warblin’ boxes,” ter pretty 3 “Yer hash-snappers, “We’re—that is——” “Oh, shout; warblé; confound it, sing!’ roareg Shorty, whereat the candidates for musical reputa- tion glared at each other, and the Kid grinned all over himself, yi : “Oh, you would like to hear what we can do,” said one of them, taking a tumble. “Now yer cackle. I want ter sample yer.” “Very well,” and they each went for a roll of music which they carried. Shorty and the Kid watched them with considera- ble interest, concluding that if they knew no more about stage singing than they did about stage terms, that they were better adapted for driving a four- wheeled stage than for treading the boards of the other kind, as artists. . } Finally they selected a ballad, cleared their whis- tles, and began “Lottie Lee,” : Shorty and’ the Kid started back, glances, and looked around for weapons. “Merry, warbling birds, Joyous, happy birds, Oh, how sweet your songs to me they began, on the chorus. : They might have finished it; their thin, squeaky voices might have succeeded in getting the best of the song, crorus and all, had not the two Shortys got the best of them. ; Shorty, Sr.. seized his banjo by the neck, and gave it a preliminary swing or two around his head, while Shorty, Jr., picked upa big pin. - , Before they had a chance to finish “Those Merry Warbling Birds,’’ that banjo had raised one of them. off his feet, and the pin caused the other to leap into the air about a yard. . “Oh! ow! ough!” from.the surprised warblers, put a sudden and exclamatory finish to the song. “One!” cried the Kid. “Two!” responded Shorty, . } Z “Three—bounce!”” elle. McGuffin, bursting into the room, and rushing the astonished singers out of the opposite door, : A sound of tumbling down stairs, mingled with yells and curses, finished the performance. : “Dat peppers der chowder for ’em,” said Shorty, while the mischievous Kid roared with laughter. “Tyo yez want ony more?” asked McGuffin. “Don’t want any more warblin’ birds, le’s we have ae pr toast. Guffy, waltz in der next fakir,” replied horty. ; 'Proth, but she sames a dacent girl, sur,” replied McGuffin, scratching his head. ' “Waltz her in.” * “I will, sur;?? and as good as bis word, he went exchanged ” ——aw from the room, and presently came back again, ae an astonished young lady in something like a waltz, This tickled the Spots quite as much as it aston | ished the candidate for honors. “Oh, sir, I——” she exclaimed. “Shure, she’s waltzed, Mr, Shortness,” said McGuf- fin, turning her over to Shorty. “Yer no duff, Guffy,”’ said Shorty, laughing. “Troth, I did as ye bid me.” “All right, What's yer biz, ing to the young lady. y “I’m a tragedy queen, sir,” said she, striking a ter ritic attitude, showing that she had plenty of cheek, if she had no talent. “Don’t want no tragedy. Four queens wouldn’t win wid my show,” said Shorty. “But you advertised for talent.” “Dat’s what I’m rakin’ ’round for,” | “Very well. Iam considered one of the most tat ented females in the profession,” said she, “But I don’t want dat sort of talent.” “Yes, you do. Allow me to show hen a@ specimen oe can do—let me give you a little Lady Mao eth?" ; And in spite of all his protestations, she threw her’ self into a ferocious attitude, and began to spout. **Out—out, damned spot!” she hissed. “Yes, out wid her!” cried Shorty, and before she could finish her speech, McGinnis had seized and rushed her out of the room. But she pulled his hair and scratched his face when he got her out into the hallway, evidently making her mark on him, if she did not succeed in making is upon the stage.’ bs Then came a juggler and 2 contortionist, both of whom showed good points and were engaged, the contortionist being especially good, and one who is now known the land over as ‘The Rubber Man,” So after bouncing three or four, Shorty pneree to select what talent he wanted in addition to what he had already engaged, after which he proceeded to write out his show bills, in order that ‘Shanks ma’am?” he asked, turn- might get them printed. This is a sample of the bill he fixed up; e P ; SHORTY’S VARIETIES, Shorty & Shanks, Proprietors, (er Loor aT THE Array or TALENT.U9 The great, the original, the only SHORTY, In his renowned specialties, — A chip of the old block, SHORTY, JR., In his acts and doings, The great sensational, comical, conversational, and saltatorial Ethiopian artists, fie } Watson AND ELxrs, The great ventriloquist and imitator, Harry Kennepy. , The queen of song and beauty, the famed “ Erxa Mayo, j The serio-comic star. Keuty anp Ryay, beets The well-known Irish eomedians, will delight with some of theirfeuperd delineations. BILLY ARLINGTON, The celebrated lightning change artist, Tue Great Rupser MAN, The most wonderful contortionist living Bitty Barry, the boss of all the black men, the Napoleon of fun- makers, will shake out his wrinkles every night for the delectation of his many admirers. N.B.—Come with a few pins about you, for you are liable to lose your buttons. : Miss FirorA Moors; The charming Irish comedienne and comic delineator. The Boss Dutchman, Gus WiLLrAMs, i in his newest songs, sayings ‘and “chestnuts,” will greet his numerous friends at every performance, and try to take the cake. SHORTY AND THE KID, in their renowned acfs and specialties, will be seen at every performance. Comm AND SEE THE GANG! Three hours of fun in them every time. A combination of twenty first-class artists. Admission reasonable, but various. N.B.—P.S.—SHoRTY Is IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. An body having a suspicion that they may be his fa. er, Will please apply at the box office for further par. ticulars and examination. With this programme they started out on the { road, their first stopping-place being Newark, New 2
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. ab Jersey, where they had been extensively billed to give a show at the Opera House. Shorty never felt better in his life than when he found himself once more on the road and at the head of a first-class company, nearly every one of whom was well known to the amusement-going pub- lic. Shanks was zope as busy as the devil in a gale of wind; for everything was new and not in working order just yet, but Shorty and the rest of the gang had nothing to do but work up what fun and adven- ture they could find, . : Harry Kennedy was a great favorite with Shorty, ashe was with the public, and as a, natural conse- quence they were very much together. f Harry is a great joker, and nothing pleeses him more than a racket of some sort or uther wherein his venteeaal powers are brought into play, : That afternoon he and Shorty went out for a walk on Broad street.to see what they could find lying around leose. Not finding much they entered a lager beer saloon for the purpose of moistening. “Swi foamy!” shouted Shorty, “Rot vas dot?” asked the Dutchman, slightly puz- gled over the order. “Beer—beer!’’ said Kennedy. “Oh, dot is beer two dimes,” said he, laughing, and without further ado he proceeded to draw the beer and place it on a table before them. ‘How yer vas, old sourkrout?”’ asked Shorty. “Oh, puddy.goot.” “Making money?” : “Nix. Pusiness ish tam pad,” said he, “What a lie,’ some one seemed to say, just behind him, but ofcourse it was Harry Kennedy, | i “Vot yas dot?” exclaimed the Dutchman, whirling eround, indignantly. : “Somebody’s chirpin’,”’ said Shorty. oa “Who say. dot I vos,a lie?”” “Somebody behind the bar, I guess,” suggested Harry, looking serious. B “By jinks, I fin’ me dot son of a gun,” said he. seizing a bung-starter, and rushing around behind the bar. But of course he found nothing strange there, and looked ~ very much astonished. “Find him?” “Py donder, dot vas funny,” said he, coming out from behind the bar, “What was it yer said "bout biz?” “T vos say dot it vas tarn pad,’ 3 “So's yer beer,” sounded behind the bar again, : pela spot ae and the joking ventriloquist aughed heartily. ' As for ‘the astonished and bewildered Dutchman, ’ he turned towards the bar with a look of astonish~ ment, pM Then he went around behind the bar, and took a more careful view, and he examined every nook and corner in the room. “Did you collar him?” asked Shorty. “Dot vos der queerest dings dot ever vos in my life. Vare vos dot gun of a son?” “And so your beer is bad, is it?” asked Harry, “Dot vos von tam lie all der vile. Dot vos der pest peer in Niark.” “Another lie!” said the voice. “Come-ouit here und I will told you apoud dot,” he thes being now thoroughly enraged. ‘Come ouit ere, und I knock mine heat again’ your fist, ‘puddy gwick, I bade you.” “No, you wort!” “J bade you fife tollar dot I will.” “Youre a fraud!” “T was no dings like dot.” “And sell stale beer.” “Mine Gott in Himmel, dot vas too much of a goot ding dot 1 don’t like, und I make him schwaller it down his gullet.” m : } This time he tore around behind his bar,and began kicking and breaking everything he could find, so mad was he, while Shorty and Harry laughed a whole bellyful, A moment after another Dutchman came into the place, and ordered a glass of beer. He sat at a table next to our friends. “Mine Gott, but dot was queer!” said the bewilder- ed Dutchman. ; “Wie gehts, mein herr!’ said the new-comer, “Goot. How you vas all der vile?” asked the bar- keeper of the saloon, 5 ‘ “Win lager.” The foamy was soon brought, ! beer!” said a voice. “Vot vas dot?” asked the landlord,turning sudden- ly around upon the new-comer, from whose vicinity the exclamation seemed to come. ‘Tsay me Joddings, eh?” said the man. “Who vo# ot gun of a son dot say me all dem fun- ny dings?” “What's der matter mit you?” . “Dadish allright. You ish your nut off, I guess, nod ea © you nod,” said the saloon-keeper,going u tothin and smacking his fists topethior ieisnietiniies “TJ dakes me no lip; you hear dot?’ “I bade you ten tollar dot you vas a snide.” “TI gif you dot den tollar, und I bade you dot you vas anoder.”” By this time the two Dutchmen had got their coats off, and were ready to settle things, Shorty had all the while enjoyed the racket, and now he came to the front, urging them to settle the affair and have done with it. . The result was a grand fight between the two men, during which Harry and Shorty stepped out, leaving Beveral rounds to be paid for by the ** remainers,"’ A policeman waked himself ae to a point of bray- ery, and rushed in to see what it was all about, and while he was trying to argue thé case with his club, our friends got safely out of the way and made for the Opera House, so as to be in time to work the thing according to programme. : How long the two Dutchmen fought they never knew, but they were both on the floor, rolling and kicking around, biting each other, and doing some heavy swearing in broken English, when the police- man rushed in and collared all hands off to the sta- tion-house. ‘ Well, on arriving at the Opera House, they found that it was chuck full, as were several members of the company engaged to work the show. But itso happened that those who were ‘full’ were older members of the profession, and those who were used to the business, both off and on the stage, and so it did not mar the performance in the least.” Shorty came on in his old specialties, such as the monkey business withthe banjo, and a perfect hur- rah greeted and attended him from his first entrance to his exit after three encores, . It was an ovation worthy of the ‘‘card,’*and flat- tering to any man, and when at last a speech was called for Shorty spread himself, and kept the aud- ience in a roar for at least ten minutes, the ending of which was three cheers and a tiger for Shorty, from the boys in the gallery. Then came Shorty, Jr., as the chip of the old block, and the cheers which greeted the little runt were second only to those avhich greeted the ‘told man.” The wind up was a banjo solo by Shorty, accom- ponies by the Kid on a tamborine, and their old ‘unony business took the cake, as it had done on many former occasions. \ A better send off no company ever had, and when the house was counted np, Shanks almost stood on his ear, so bright did the prospect seem for the fut- ure, ’ But the line at the bottom of the bill about Shorty being in search of his dad caught every eye, and while the majority regarded it as a ‘‘ kid,” there was ene man in Newark who felt disposed to investigate the matter. — = ! CHAPTER IX. ‘THE first night of the “Shorty Varieties,” at New- ark, N. J., was a great success, as shown in the last chapter, but the business of Shorty being in search of his dad created quite as much fun as anything else that people reac on the bill. As before stated, there was a certain little old man who witnessed the performance, and Shorty in his specialties, who took more than a passing interest in m. He applied to the box-office after the show, and Shanks being there, took in the racket. “Who is this person who calls himself ‘Shorty’? he asked. “Well, sir, he would pay handsomely -to find out who he is himself,” replied Shanks. “J see the bottom line on the programme says that he is in search of his dad—his father, I suppose. Might I be Ponca for manifesting interest in the matter, if 1 tell you that I lost a bey. several years go, and somehow think he may be ‘How many years ago?” “About thirty.” : “Well, there is a lean possibility that he is the one, a T have my doubts, Where did you lose your oy??? “In New York.” “How old was he at the time?” “About five; and he was somewhat odd-shapen and dwarfed,” , ; “Well, that is coming pretty near to it,” said Shanks, reflectively. bs “May I have the privilege of seeing him? “Well, yes, I suppose so.” “Where is he now?’’ ; “In his room, I dare say. Wait a moment and I will zo up to the hotel with you.” “Thank you, sir;’’ and the stranger turned away to wait until Shanks was ready. ; “Wonder if he is his father?’? he mused, “lt would be devilish funny if it should turn out so.” In the course of ten minutes Shanks finished his business in the box-office, and started for the hotel in compauy with the stranger. Arriving there they found Shorty, the Kid, Harry Kennedy and Gus Williams, in the bar-room, drink- ing Saratoga water on the success of the show, and Shanks at once introduced Mr, Smith (that was the Stranger’s name) to him, with the announcement that he believed himself to be Shorty’s father. Shorty stepped backward a few feet, and tooka good look at him without speaking a word. “Nixy.” Got no wart on his bugle,’ said he, at length, at which they all laughed, “What do you mean?” asked Smith. ‘Ym looking for my dad, but he has got a big wart on his bugle.” “You mean his nose, I presume?” “Now yer whistle,” said Shorty, nodding. “Well, waita moment, Lonce hada wart on my nose, and had it removed,” said the man. ___ “He's gettin’ yer on a string,” said the Kid. i “With a nose on the end of it,” added Gus Wil- ams. “Dat’s no news for me.” “But wart’s he driving at?” “Goodness nose.” “Wart's the difference?’ “Well, one’s wart’s is, an’ de oder warts ain't.” This bandying of puns somewhat astonished the old part; by the name of Smith, either because they were « bad, or because he wasn’t used to such a gang as now confronted him, : “T feel almost certain that you are my son,” said he, at the first lull of of the commotion. e one?” “You do?” “Yes, almost certain of it.”’ “Ab, what be yer givin’ me, ole man?”’ said Shorty, turning away. : “This is sort of reversing matters somewhat,” sug- gested Shanks, “The ‘dad’ is looking for Shorty, in- stead of Shorty’s looking for his dad.” “See ifhe can dance; if he can that’ll be one symp- tom,” said Gus, “See if he can walk on- his hands, heels up, or turm a double flip-flap,” suggested Kennedy. “Let’s see if hecan walk off on his ear,’ said rors Jr., which caused the old gent to look at nim, “Are there two of you?” “Well, we aren’t one.” “Ts this the little fellow you call Shorty, Jr?" “T'm der Kid; but yer can’t play any daddy biz on me.”’ “Your son?” he asked, addressing Shorty. “Dey swore him onto me somehow.” “Well, I guess'there’s no doubt about it. But I’m in earnest about this matter. About thirty years ago L lost a child in New-York, possessing many of your physical peculiarities, He was then about five years of age, and I have not seen or heard of him since. How old are you?” : “Give it up.” ‘ “Well, I should say that you are about thirty-five, and that would make it,” , “And your name is Smith?” asked Shorty, con- temptuously. : £ ay i: Ces; John Smith, and J have always lived in New- ar “I won’t have it! ‘Shorty’ ’ll do find anythin’ better’n Smith.” “But that’s a very fine name,” “Old French name,” suggested Shanks, “Seems to me I’ve heard that name before some- where,” said Gus Williams, who is a great guyer, “T knowed a coun by dat name once,”’ said the Kid, “Oh, that wasa black Smith.” __ . ‘ . “What are your earliest recollections, please?" asked the old gent, without taking much notice of the chaffing that was going on, ‘ To tell the truth, there was an air of sincerity and honesty about the old fellow that commanded a cere tain amount of respect, even from the wags who gathered around him. i “Ball us off, an’ I'll tell yer,” said Shorty. “Do what?” he asked, in astonishment, “Set ’em up.” ‘ “T don’t understand you.” Y “Shout,”’ said the Kid. “Shout?® “Blow us off.’ “Say turkey,’ put in Gus, “He won’t play fowl with us.” : “We don’t know feather he will or not.” “Oh, yer stuffin’,” said Shorty. “This subject is becoming very gravy,” said Gus, “True, but he has a bone to pick with him,” 5 nek thought he wanted to take him under his wing.’ “Ehere's a leg-I-see connected with it,” “Which it is Shanks,” put in Kennedy; » _ x “Gentlemen, I do not understand you," said Smith, looking from one to the other. a “Oh, blow off der gang; what’s derematter wid yer?” said Shorty, : “Blow you off?” ; “Nip der budge.”’ “Set up the rosy.” Penh aaa if you will be good enough to 6x= plain—— “ey “Oh, treat! Can’t you tumble?” said the barkeep+ er, who stood ready and waiting. ‘Oh,” grunted Smith, looking confused. ‘I—I never drink myself, and——”* : : “Dat settles it. Yer no dad of mine,’ and Shorty turned contemptuously away, while the others in- dulged in a hearty laugh, “You will excuse me, but Iam a member of a tem- perance organization and cannot drink.” ere “Nobody asked youtocrink. Fire a ‘ball' into the boys, that’s all you want to do,” said the barkeeper, “ ’ for me, if Tean’t ell, I-—— “Pll take some of der same,” said Shorty, and in- stantly alt hands ordered their drinks or segats. The would-be daddy was in for it, and with no chance of backing out. x “Well, now, tell me what your earliest recollections are,” said he, after the round had been paid for. “Well, boss, der fust thing dat I can remember is bein’ taken in,” said Shorty. “Taken in? In where?” “Into an almshouse.”’ “*¥ou don’t say sol”’ » “Fact; but I graderated from dat college in "bout five years an’ struck New York.” “Ts it possible?” : “Yer bet! Did yer ever go gunnin’ for dat lost kid of yourn?” te: “Gunning? What do you mean?” “Ever try ter find him?” ; ; “Often, In fact, I never ceaséd searching for him,” replied Smith. | ‘Did yer ever go ter Coram, down on Long Island, shootin’ arter him?’ “Veg tige : Shorty started and looked surprised, “How long ago?” | “Well, about ten years azo, I guess."” Shorty looked even more serious at this. “Who did yer see there?” “An old man and woman.” “What did they tell yer?”’ ve : “hey couldn’t tell me anything that I wanted te know, and that has been my luck all through.” cd
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44 “I always thought that Shorty was the original G@harley Ross,” said Gus Williams. But Shorty was too much occupied with his thoughts to notice the remark, “Why do you ask these questions?” said Smith. “Ah, jis’ for fun.” ‘ “What is your own opinion?” “My "pinion is dat yer don’t kersactly fill der bill,” said Shorty. “Have you ever made apy attempt to find your parents?” “Has he!” said the Kid, laughing loudly. Have you succeeded?” es, “In what way?” “In gettin’ lots of trimmin’s but no meat,” replied Shorty, with a grin. ‘Do aon feel any yearnings toward this man?” asked Gus Williams. ; “Nary yearn.” + “How do you feel toward Shorty?” he asked, ad- dressing Mr, Smith. “Well, sir, I feel that he is my son.” “An? feels like havin*a ‘ball,’ said the Kid, “Oh, yer allus yearnin®- for ‘balls,’ growled Shorty.” “and you have the family resemblance, very strongly defined,” continued Smith, “Guess not bad. Any of ’em in der show biz?” “No, lam speaking of your features.” “Your handsome features, George!’ said Kennedy, imitating the voice of a-woman so nicely that the yearning father started and looked around, - “But I will not push my inquiries any further to- night. Sleep on it and I will see you again some time to-morrow.’ P “All right,” replied Shorty. s “What hour will be convenient for you?” “Say one o’clock.”” . “Very well, I will meet you here,” said Smith, of- fering his hand. Shorty shook Lands with him, for in*spite of the natural deviltry in him, he felt just a trifle serious over the affair, for Sinith had hit so very near tothe mark, that it eet ee after’ all, be possible’ that he was in reality his father, ne. ey ' 4*Good-by, grandpop,”’ said Shorty, Jr. $ “Good-night, ‘my son,” said Smith, taking him by the hand, © *"* “Ta—ta!t Be good ter yerself, grandpop. Don’t stay outlate and get inter fast company.” The old man laughed and took his leave. “What a racket,” said Shanks, “Well, now, 1 ain’t so sure ’*boutdat. He makes a _ pretty good showin’ fer der cake, He comes mighty elose to der facts,” said Shorty, soberly, “Oh, he’s giving you taff,”’ said the barkeeper. “Do you know hin?” asked Shanks. - “Do know him! Of course I do. He's a first-class This produced a roar, “What about him?” “He's 2 beat.” They.all laughed but Shorty. : “Phen he is not a rich and long lost daddy? “Not much. He has lived on his clhieek and his wits for the past ten years to my certain knowlege.” “That's: a symptom,” said Shanks, laughing, “Guess you’ye found your dad, Shorty,” © *©Oh, you -be'hanged. - But, 1 say, what’s his little eircus wid me, I wonder?” “*Why, don’t you see it? If he can play if on you that he is your father, he'll have’a soft thing for a dead head soak the rest of his life, If he thought Ou was 28 pooras heis, do you, suppose he would have tried to work the racket? Not much. He has found out something about your history and is now trying to make a point.” ‘ Nearly blowed, he finally reached No, 43, and rap- wed on the door. . } 4 4 I suppose?” SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, Shanks showed up. “Ah, is—is——”’ he began. “Shorty you want) He was in here only a few mo- ments ago, but he has gone up stairs to his son’s room to peactlee: Wants you to come right up.” Taie old fellow cast his eyes toward the stairs, and hove a groan. “No. 63, at the further end of the hall.”” “Thanks; and once more he started. Reaching the next floor, he went limping and puff- ing around in search of room 52, and finding it final- ly, he rapped on the door. Billy Barry opened it, “Is—is Mr.—that is—is the person known as—as Shorty here?”’ “Shorty! No; he was here amoment ago, but he and the Kid have just gone up stairs,”’ said Billy. “On, Lord!” groaned Smith. n “Room 71. You’ll find him there, By-the-way, are you a pariy by the name of Smith?” “Yes; that is my name,” “That's it. He told me he expected yon, and to have me send you right up.” “Gracious! Seems to mé that he’s a dreadful hard person Lo find. Guess he don’t mind going up and down stairs,””” “Oh, no; he likes it. Won't put up at a hotel where there arn’t a lot of stairs. Does it for exer- cise.” “Gracious me!” he groaned, and started up the Stairs, nathan iY “Good-by, Mr, Smith,” said Billy. Without making a reply, he continued his weary Ways ry Arriving at No, 71, he rapped on the door, and who should open it but Seg Jr. ‘ b ““Halloo, grindpop! How yer vas all der vile?” “V-very well, but dreadful tired, Whew! Inever ‘climbed so many stairs in my life.’’ “Bully exercise, granddad,” said the grinning Kid, “Yes; but—but it’s too much of a good thing. Where is your father?” ~~ “He got tired waitin’ for yer. © He was “fraid he wouldn’t see yer, an’ so he’s gone downto der parlor ter find yer.” f “Oh, dear} and here I have climbed clear to the top of this house,” he moaned. fre “Dat's all right. It’s good for yer jints.” 7\ “Good! Is he down in the parlor?” © © \ “Yes; an’ crazy ter see yer. He thinks yer got him dead ter rights; his dad, sure.” “Tam glad to hearit. 1 will go right down and see him;” and the old man, whoin the Kid had not asked to sit down and rest himself, started to tramp down Stairs again, ‘ Ta—ta, granddad,” chirped the pate all right. “‘Good-by, my son,” returned the old fraud. “My ——!” muttered the Kid.» It was a long tramp to reach the parlor, although not so hard’ a one as it was to go to the top of the building, and yet he never tumbled to the racket. But on arriving at the parlor, he found it empty, with the escent of Gus Williams, who only “hap- pened” to be in there. “What!” he exclaimed, yet?” . 4 “No, I was told that he was here,” said Smith, “Was here not two minutes ago, but he got nervous about your coming, and he has just taken a hack to ride to your house,” f 4 “Well, I'll wait here antil he returns. The factis, I have been clear tu the topof the house in search of him, but at every room Ihave just missed him by a few minutes,” saying which he threw himself upon a sofa to rest. ; 5 He waited right there in that room until dark, but Shorty kept out of sight all day long, and when night caine he concluded to go to the show, thinking that perhaps something had happened to the runt, as every one of the gang had kept out of siglit, and Sree Williams had left him to goin search of orty. But when he applied at the box-office for a dead- head ticket, he found a stranger there, and failed to “work” him for a cent’s worth, So he had to stand outside and warm his heels by knocking them against the sidewalk until the show was ont, Even then he failed to find Shorty, and after wait- ing around the hotel for an hour or so, Gus Williams assured him that he had heen obliged to go to New York on the late train, put would see him the next “Haven't you found him day. te was a bitter pill to swallow, but in spite of every- thing, he never tumbled. +e i F The next day, however, he was at the hotel bright and early, for he had struck too good a thing, he thought, to lose it, » ary ta But Shorty had hig eyes open all the while, and was arranging another racket for his mibs. He met him that afternoon and gave him taffy enough fo make agnound cake, admitting that he was his father,and asking him to go on the road with him and have a good time. This, of course, was just what the old beat wanted, and he gladiv assented to the proposition, “I shall only be too happy to accompany my cele- brated and long-lost son on his triumphant way,’ said he, with much entliusiasm, / “Good ’nough, ole man... Come down ter der show ter right an’ come on der stage. | Der Kid’n me’s go- in’ ter do a new act.” » F “Oh, I shall only be too happy.” ~ And so it was arranged that the old duffer was to go behind the scenes, where Shorty was to introduce him formally to the company as-his dad,” At the appointed hour the'vid man was there, and was promptly admitted. ; Ge 3 is Shorty and his traps were in fine working order. He and the Kid had an act’ together to close the 4 .| any oder cove right away. ee —— eee performance, and it was this scene that he had ar ranged to introvuce him, as he thought, to the com- pany as his long lost dad. Lt In the meantime a tackle and fall had been fixed up in the “flies,” and three stout men stood ready to work it. A scene was run on, in front of which ‘Billy Barry was doing some of his funny business for the amuse- ment of the audience,-but behind it stood Shorty, Smith, the Kid, and several other members of the combination. Just before the scene was to berun off, showing the one for Shorty’s act, the stage carpenter Fi proached’ Smith, who was standing near the middle of the stage, and slipping a stout repe around his waist he hooked the tackle into it, and before Smith knew what was going on he was going up. At that’moment the scene was run off and: the crowd in front beheld the well-known old beat, John Smith, dangling and yelling about ten feet from the floor, and fastened to his body was a large printed: card on which was written: : “This is Shorty’s Dad 1” This was an act not down on the bills, and the roar of applause that greeted it was perfectly deafening, nearly everybody recognizing the “suspension,” Shorty and the Kid appeared witn banjo and tam- bourine, A’shout greeted them which drowned the cries and curses of the struggling “dad.” And then they began to sing “Up in a Balloon,” making references to Smith which broughtdown the house with terrific roars of laughter and applause, after which a speech was demanded. Shorty as once caine to the front. ; Laat ‘Tiadies and gemmen, dere’s:my dad!” said he, pointing to Smith, - “He has been tryin’ ter get. me ona string, but I'se got der bestofim. How. does he hang for smokin’?” ye iter A roar of laughter greeted this, in the midst of which the curtain and the lights went down. Poor John Smith! They roasted him dreadfully that night in the Newark Opera House, ; After the curtain went down, and while the audi. ence were yet cheering and demanded another lool at him, the whole company. gathered beneath the suspended fraud and guyed him most unmereifuliy, making'him own up to being a bilk, and giving it to him in all sorts of ways; it being their jast night there, they were not so particular, ‘ “Lemme down!” he kept yelling.. “Nix. We won't let you down or Jeb up on you either,” said Gus Williams, who-had laughed ‘himself bloated over the racket. - i = “Yer a duff,” said Shorty, and just then tha Kid, Shorty, Jr., wlio had found/a syringe somewhere ainong the properties, brought ic to bear, filled with dirty water, and squirted it at the old heat, hitting him in the face, eyes, ears, hair, ete. y *Ol—olit be still; Vil haveyou all arrested,” and he sprawled and flopped around in mid-air likea crab on a fish-hook. . pao der yer like bein’ my dad, ole man?” asked lorty. . “Tam not your dad, I don’t want to be your dad, I wouldn’t own you for a son.” “ty “An? yet yer tried ter play ib on ‘me, didp’t yert Give him anoder one, Kid.” ‘ “No—no!’ Don’t you let him doit.” - z “Oh, no. I won’t do it; of course not,” said the mischievous litle fellow, squirting about a pint of water in the suspended man’s ear, Whig “How do you like this ‘for a watering-place?” ask- ed Billy Barry, with one of his comical grins. aa Me yerskip out if we'll let yer down?” asked horty. é ud t “Yes—yes! Oh, Lord, yes!” he moaned, Shorty gave a signal to those who held the. ropa, and down came Smith, sprawling. - “There, dat's der first time yer’ve taken a drop since I’ve known yer. Now waltz,” said he, pointing tothe stage door, i eyes “Yes—yes; where’s my hat?” ; “Here it is,” said Harry Kennedy, placing it on his head; and banging it down over bis eyes, ! “Oh—oh! lemme out!” “Go it!? Pies ei? ay “But 1 can’t see,” said he, struggling to lift the hat up so he could sée where he was. ; “Feel!” “Spin out on yer bugle!’ “Go out on all fours!” “Lay down androll out!" “Crawloutl' 0) i eS a? “Git out!’ said Shorty, and at that momems. Smith succeeded in pushing the hat far enough up, $0 \ see, and he made a bee-line for the door, | **You are a set of rufflans, and—oh!” he suddenly exelnimed, for justias he reached: the, stage door, Gus Williams, who had'siationed himself, bebind: it, let go a terrifie, ear-splitting blast upon an eld trom- bone, ae frightened the old: fellow out ef a year's growth. t : # But he managed to-reach the street, and the way uh fe Hoof it toward home was a caution te lame ducks, Pe. eens i Hind ‘ “Dat settles his paternal feelin’s, I guess,” said Shorty. “Guess he won’s want ter play daddy wid CHAPTER X. € ‘And Shorty was right.. The old frand was neyer before taught such a hearty lesson; but the, worst: of it was, the affair got into the papers, and everybody in Newark was laughing at him. To.this day he is item AAR / Dad,” and probably always) will e. OG ed dee aia ver, f From Newark the company returned to Jersey ‘
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Qity, whose dead walls were already gleaming with the show bills of “Shorty’s Varieties,’ and there two aplendid’ houses rewarded them, after which they epened fora week in Brooklyn at the Academy of Music. Shavks was more than delighted. Like the others, he was having a heap of fun, and, like Shorty, mak- Ing a pile of money. “Pard, how does she look?” asked Shorty, after the first full house in Brooklyn. _ “Fine as silk, old man—fine as silk. Didn't I tell you that it would pan out good?” — “Dat’s all hunk, but we may strike bad biz; den yer’d drop yer tail fedders!”” ‘ “Oh, of course, we can’t expect to make money all the time. Bat we'll have a nice pot salted down against bad business, and I guess we'll pull through all right. . Found out anything more about your dad?’ “Nix. Guess I'll have ter die widout havin’ my ole man spank me,” said Shorty, with a sigh. “Ts that the object of your search?” “Dat’s-one object, pard. Der trufe is, I feels bad because I wasn't brought up same’s odder fellers is; I never got banged around any by my dad, an’I fee! kinder slighted like.’’ © $ “People bore me to death at the box-office, inquir- ing what that line on the programme means, where it says that Shorty is looking for his dad,” “Oh, dat’s all right, pard, Nothin’ like gettin’ folks interested,” said Shorty, laughing and turning away. ‘es, that’s all right,I suppose,” muttered Shanks, “but I’m the man that gets bored.” The reader will call to mind the line which Shorty ut at the bottom of the programme, and, of course, tis not to be Wondered at that is caused many in- quiries, But that night he had an adventure that was not so pleasant. It happened in this way: Amang the audience was a middle-uged woman, who, five years beforé, had lost a little boy about six years of age, it having’ been stolen from her by some mis¢reant, and ever since then she had been flighty in her ming, : Ordinarily she was all right and harmless, even if she was “a little off,” but wheneyer anything hap- pened to remind her of her loss, she became for the time being wild and uncontrollable, She enjoyed the performance for some time, and until after Shorty had done his first act, when her ey9 caught sight of the bottom line on the pro- gramme. % ; ; This set her to thinking, and in five minutes she was as crazy a3 a blinded bed-bug. The idea took possession of her that Shorty was her long-lost boy, and rushing out of the dress circle, where she was sitting, she made her way quickly to the stage door, ‘and demanded to see Shorty, her darling lost boy. The door-keeper attempted to prevent her from going upon the stage, but she gave him a smack in the snoot that knocked him over a chair, and while he was getting himself toxether and picking himself up, she inade her way in behind the scenes and asked to see Shorty immediately. Shorty vas standing near by all blackened up, just ashe had come froin the stage, and a healthy “iost son” he looked like, indeed, “Here Tis, ole gal, what’s der matter?” he asked, “Are you Shorty?” she asked, wildly. “Dat’s me, honey,” and the company gathered -eround, a “And you are looking for your parente? “Dat’s part of der programme.’ i “Were you stulen?”’ ; “Give it up.” “About five years ago?’* “Waal, not datI recermember,” said he, laughing. “Do you remember your parents?” “Waal, not very distinctly, never havin’ seen ’em.” “Ahl my. heart yearns!” she exclaimed, throwing her’arnis about her head, “Nol Got it bad?” “Wor youl?’ and she rushed towards him with open arms and.in a most tragic manner. : “No. Yer givin’? me rock candy,” said Shorty, dodging behind Billy to avoid her, ‘i “Yes;you are my long-lost aus “No, that’s him,” said he, pushing Billy Barry to- ward her, for he now saw that she was “‘off her nut.” ; “No—no; go lightly on me, old lady, for I have got a full set. of parents, all living and healthy,” said ly. ; “Come, to my arms, my long-lost Billy-boy!” she pened, and making a dive she caught Shorty up in er arms and covered his olack faces with kisses. “Hold on!” yelled Shorty, kicking and struggling to xet away, while the others roared with taughter, ‘Oh, my +dear—dear boy Billy! Kiss your poor mother!’ she sald, coaxingly. ° % “Not inueh. Lemme gol” But she would do nothing of the kind, and nearly kissed all the burned cork from his face, at the same time blacking her own, and making herself look too somical for anything. It was rather a sad affair, but it was comical after all, .There she stood hugging Shorty to her bosom, and wildly kissing him in her delirium, while he was struggling with all his might to get away from her, - “Oh, nty dear little Billy, how-you have grown!” “]’1] make you groan if you aon’t lemine alone,”? “You must come right home with me, Your poor . dear father will cry with joy to see you,” “Take her away, somebody,” yelled Shorty. Three or four of those who stod around attempt- ed te separate them, but she cluag to him like death toa dead nigger, and during the struggle the whole party fell in a confused heap down stairs, SHORTY IN SEARCH OF His) DAD. Rts) There, however, the crazy woman was taken in charge by a policeman who had been summoned, and Shorty-was once more at liberty, “Don’t let them take you from mie, y boy; my own Billy boy, don’t let them separfve us,” she pleaded, \ “Yer jes’ bet I will. Git out; yer off yer cabase. I arn’t yer long lost Billy.” “Come right along with me,” said the officer. “No—no, I must have my boy,” and she struggled Savuagely to get away, “Come along quietly or I shall have to resort to force,” and the’ officer attempted to get her up stairs, But she broke away from him and again made a dive for Shorty, who, seeing the danger, darted aside, and she caught Billy Barry in her arms and nearly Squeezed the breath out of him. But she: was finally got ovt of the building and taken to the station-house, where, on learning her name ard malady, she was escorted home and hand- ed over to the keeping of her friends. — Of course the grand laugh was on Shorty from everybody in the company, and he was about the worst hugged, kissed, and bumped fellow ever seen, “Waal, dat’s one way ter have yer blacknin’ taken off,” said Shorty, Jr., Jaughing. “That's so. It isn’t everybody that can have the burned cork Kissed off their mugs,” added Gus Will- iams. “How ther blazes did she get in here, anyway?” growled Shorty, rubbing his bumped head. The door-keeper told his story, and then a part of the laugh was on him. ‘ But the performance was scarcely interrupted and went on nicely to the end, Shorty and the Kid ‘tak- ing the cake,” as usual, in spite of his mishap. In their last act Shorty. perched’ himself on the back of a chair, his favorite position while playing on the banjo, with the Kid in the chair, with a pair of bones, and for their Jast encore he sang: “I'm a lookin’? for my dad, Baby mine—baby mine; If find him Tl be glad, 4 Baby mine—baby mine; He lost me years ago, ; And I wander to and fro Wid my bully fust-class show, Baby mine—haby tine, | Wid my bully fust-class show, Baby mine, t A tremendous burst of applause greeted the first verse, and this was the second: : : y “Oh, I long to see his mug, Baby mine—baby mine, Be he big or little bug, Baby miine—baby mine; * _ He has dodged me long enough, [Pm gettin’ in a huff, | For an orphan it is rough, Baby mine—baby mine, For an orphan it is rough, Baby mine,” Even this would not satisfy the audience, an@ he had to repeat it twice more before they would allow him to retire, or retire themselves, On the whole the performance had been quite as attractive to the performers as it had’ been for those in the front of the house,and they all scattered after gettinz out of their stage togs, to laugh and tell over the curious adventures of the evening, * The next night was a sample of this one, only that the programme was changed, introducing eee member of the company in new acts and special- ties, Saturday night had been announced as a benefit night for Shorty,and the boysof Brooklyn were mak- ing great preparations for haying it a “‘rouser,” and quite a Jarge number of those who had read so much regarding him, and who had found hin even. better than he had been described, were getting together a, subscription for something or other, although’ they kept it very quiet forfear it might leak out and spoil the surprise they intended it to be, During the day—Saturday--Shorty had another adventure, It was while the matinee was in pro- gress, and was something like the first one. An old colored man who had laughed over his an- tics at two performances, at length discovered the’ bottom line on the programme,and having lost a boy several years before, resolved to interview, Shorty, all the while regarding him asa gennine darkey, Telling the doorkeeper that Shorty had instructed him to call on him at his dressing-room, he managed to get on the stage and fo find the person he was de- sirous of interviewing, all blacked up for business. “Am dis yer Shorty?” he asked, stoopicg forward with both hands on his broomstick cane, wt “Yas, chile, daram whar yer hit it,” “Can [hab a moment’s elocntion wid you?” “Ob cose yer can; elocute,” said Shorty, imitating his voice nicely. “Can I seed you alone, chile?” The old darkey stood in th same attitude, and kept his big white eyes fastened on Shorty, “Ob cose yer can, honey, if you don’t took me so far. away dat I can’t get back ter biz. What am it? “Shorty has found his dad this time for sure,” sug- gested Gus Williams, which created a laugh. “Come a little bit dis way,’’ suggested the old man, leading him ten or fifteen feet away. Shorty followed with some curiosity, and three or four members of his company gathered near in the hopes of haying some fun. "Shorty, Ihab a strong s’picion dat I am your far- ’ der,” began the old darkey, with both hands on his eane as before, “Der devil you have!’ exclaimed Shorty, starting back, astonished; ; “Fo? shuah, honey.” Shorty laughed, in spite of himself, and those who stood around joined in most heartily. / “What makes yer think so, honey” “Waal, in de fns’ placeI lose a boy once. In de secon’ place I seed you’ advertisement dat you war in search ob you’ farder. Now, might lax how ole you is, chile?” “A little morn eighteen,” “Dat’s all right—dat makes it. Now how ole war you when you war los’?” “Give her up, daddy.” “Bout seben, say?” “Well, I guess so.” ‘An’ yer neber hearn tell ob yer friend’s?” “Nota mouthful.” ‘Don’t know dere names, I s’pose?” “Nix; do you?” “Waal, chile, I haba strong suspicionment dat you’ farder’s name am David Johnsing.” : “You don’t say so!”? exclaimed Shorty, “Chile, I’s *fraid dat it ain so.” “Waal, who’s Dave Johnson?” “Behold him!” said the darkey, straightening up and striking his breast. “What! Why, is this you, Dave?” and Shorty, chuck full of burlesque and fun, sprang forward and caught the old fellow’s hand, i “Dat am my name, honéy; an’ I fink fo’ shuah dat Iam you’ father.” tot ‘Honest Injun?” and Shorty looked sober. ; ae (putty nigh shuah ob it, Whar you come rom?” 2 é “Don't know, Dave. Der fus’ I knowd, I war on dis yer Long Island.” ¢ “Whar bouts?” . “Oh, down here a few miles.” “Den I’s shuah ob it!’ exclaimed the darkey, open- his arms for an embrace. ; e nfak Oe eas but Shere went for safety, having had one hugging adventuré, and BO eacking. out of the way, he allowed the old darkey to cate! and hug a stage carpenter who at that moment chanced to come that way while attending to his bus- iness, . y “What the devilare you doing?” growled the car- penter, : ‘ “I begs your pardon, sah, I war jus’.zwine ter hug in: ‘]my long-lost boy, Tommy Hanshew Mayo Ten Eyck Jonsing.” “Go to the devil!” and the carpenter went about ie work, leaving Shorty and the gang laughing mer- rily. “I don’t zactly un’erstan’ dis yer,” said the dar- key. gazing from one to another, “Oh, dat’s all right, Dave. You wait here ’til I do my next turn an’ den I'll talk ter yer.” : ‘All right, Tommy, I'll stan’ right heah ’til-you gets frew, an’ den I wants ter hug yer *bout an hour, “Waal, we'll see *bout dat,” said Shorty, and away he went with the Kid to do their act, The old darkey posted himself ey the wing near the entrance, and watched the act with great earnest- ness and parental pride. Finally he got warmed up when Shorty began a dance, “Oh, look at him!” he exclaimed; “I know dat’s my boy. Seé him knock der putty out ob de cracks in dat flo’! Dat’s 1ay Tommy fo? shuah,” It was fun galore for those who stood near him, But arter Siorty had finished his act, he at once sought Mr, Johnson, and asked him to go with him to his dressing-room where he would soon be in shape to telk with him. Shorty and the Kid dressed together in the same room, and all three of them went there, “Chile, Ishonld know by your dance dat you was my. Tommy,” said the old darkey, proudly, / “Is dat so? Waal, take a seat while I wash up,” and he pointed him to a chair, while he and the Kid proceeded to the sink to wash tl emselyes,’ Everything was new to the old darkey, and he was 80 intent on looking’ aronnd that he did not notice the change of complexion which soap and water had pro- duced oa his Tommy,” until Shorty had’ turned around again, ; x “So you think I’s yer son, do yer, Dave?” said he, and he stood wiping his white face and hands. “=a The old fellow gare one look, started to his feet, stepped back’a few paces, and uitered an exclama- tion of surprise. ; : mens am dis-yer? Am you Shorty?” he demand- ed. “Now yer see me clear to der skin. How a’yerlike me? “An? amn’t you 4 colored pusson after all?’ “Not all der time, Soap an’ water gets der best of my enl’edness most ebry time, David, Do T resémble your Tommy now?” he asked, laughing, “Chile, I's a big, black fool. L thought all der while dal you was a black boy. I reaily hopes dat you’li ‘sense a poo’ old fool.. Iwas shual dat I had foun’ my son,” «nd the old man spoke with considerable emotion, : i : “Dat’s all right, Uncle Dave. Didn’t know dat I could make up so well. Here, here’s a tenner for yer, an’ if 1can ever be of any "sistance to yer in findin yer boy, callon me anywhere,” and he gave him a ten dollar bill, . i “Oh, Mr. Shorty, don’t gib me dis yer money. Us +a poo’ ole man, but it don’t look z4stly right fo’ me ter take dis yer from a stranger,” pits’ “Dat’s all right,” suid the Kid, ‘Here’s another,” and putting another ten (which he took out of Shorty’s pocket) into the old fellow’s hand, he led him toward the door, Fes
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76 “I’g so much ’bleged to yer, an’ if yer never find you farder, I shall allus know dat you deserved a Fo one,” and the old man hobbled out of the build- ne. 4 . The company had the laugh on Shorty, of course, but he never regretted what he did for the old man, feeling that he’was honestly in search of a son, as he was of a father. That evening, set apart for Shorty’s benefit—there was an overflowing house, and one of the noticeable things about it was, that both of the private boxes, nearest to the stage on either side, were filled with woll-dressed boys and young fellows who seldom occupy such conspicuous places. The performance went off with unusual briskness, and was applauded heartily. Shorty, in his educated \ NN} \ BHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, me inter notice.’’ (Three cheers for Peter Pad.) *“Dat’s good *nough. I shall allus remember der boys of Bragklyn, an’ der ladies an’ gentlemen, too, for I’s allusfound friends here, an’'so has der Kid, Shorty, Jr.” (Cheers for the ‘Kid,”) “I am now on der road, lookin’ tor fun an’ my dad. I’shad two or three afflictions already, but dey didn’t fill der bill; but depend on it, if I never find him, I shall al- lus remember dat I can find friends in Brooklyn. Once more thanking you for your kindness an’ yer ticker, allow me ter say good-night.” As they bowed and retired the curtain came down, the orchestra struck up “Auld Lang Syne,” and amid cheers and waving of hats and handkerchiefs, the performances came to an end. , y oni | | aa / my arrivals,asa member of the legislature from Sco- harie, and after lcafing around for a week or more, and seeing no prospect of astonishing the city, he concluded to go back to Albany, and attend to his business. ; But he wasn’t half or quarter satisfied with his visit, and was going back for the express purpose of framing some sort of a law that would make the city a New York sick because it had taken no notice of lim, \ On board the steamer, however, he was bound to let people know wno and how great a personage he was, and the boat had not ‘proceeded more than ten miles before everybody on board knew that there was a member Of the legislature among them, by th¢ -| name of Kedunk. Tg ‘s WA A NY NON \ The scene was run off and the crowd in front beheld the well-known old beat, John Smith, dangling and yelling about ten feet from the floor. » monkey act,was received with thunders of applause, especially from the private boxes, As usual, he and Shorty, Jr, finished the perform- ance with banjo and bones, giving songs, dances, imitations, and comic dialogue, with local hits at men and things. : This was also received with roars of applause, and just as it was finished, a fine-looking yourg inan, about eighteen years of age, leaped from the right- hand private box, out upon the stage, holding in his hand @ handsome little box. Instantly everybody knew, of course, that there was to be a presentation of some kind, and the house at once became quiet after bestowing some en- couraging applause upon the good-looking young man, Shorty and Shorty, Jr. stood on either side of the chair they had just been using in their act, and wait- ed events, The young man approached them, and said: “Shorty, afew of your friends in Brooklyn, read- ers of The Boys of New York, admirers of you init as well as upon the stage, have clubbed together for the purpose of presenting you with this watch and chain, trusting that you will wear it, and that it will keep as good time as you do on your banjo.” ‘ P Here he held up a superb gold watch and chain, and the audience fairly yelled cheir approval. ; It was a genuine surprise, and Shorty was com- letely taken abaek. But taking the present in his Bands he advanced to the footlights amid rounds of applause, and said: aass “Boys, yer do me brown; I thank yer from top ter bottom. Yer bet 1’ll wear it, an’ if it ever goes “up @ spout,” yer can guess dat ['m on my last legs. I's glad dat yer like me an’ my show, but I's not so fresh as to think dat I don’t owe some of my popu- arity to my ole friend, Peter Pad, who fust brought Ui CHAPTER XI. From Brooklyn, where they met with so much suc- cess, and where Shorty was presented with a beau- tiful watch and chain by his admirers, the company roceeded to Albany, where their advent had been eralded by newspaper notices and a large display of posters. Both Shorty and Shanks were in the best of spirits, and everything was going smoothly, although while on his way up the river, the little Joker could but re- member the rackets he had enjoyed in that old town, and especially the last one, wherein he had been “fired out’? of a house, where he had gone with a let- ter of introduction from his old friend and rival in business, ex-sergeant Polly. He wondered if he should see the old duffer, Mr, Bundle,whom he had twice tried to claim as his dad, and ane should chance to do so, what would be the result bias _ The whole company were in fine spirits, and one or two.of them had.“fine spirits” in them, while on the way up on the steamboat, and everything in the shape of fun was worked to its utmost. Among the passengers was an old*fellow and his wife,who soon attracted notice, as he intended to do, on account of the consequential airs he pvton. He was a member of the legislature,and-had been down to New York with his wife to show her the big city, and at the same time to show himself to the inhabi- tants, whom he confidently expected, to turn out with music and banners to receive and escort him over the astonished town. In his estimation, there was but one greater man than he was in the country, and that person was the President of the United States. But somehow, prob- ably on account of their wickedness and indifference to great men, he scarcely excited more attention | m than a farmer would have done, although one of the evening papers published his name among the hotel Gus Williams is forever on the lookout for just such fellows, and consequently he was one of the first to take him all in and pipe bim off, although the others were not long in tumbling to the “fresh.” Going up to him as he was pacing back and forth in the state-room cabin, watched and admired by his anxious wife, he extended his hand. med ‘“‘ The Honorable Jesse Kedunk, I believe %” “ Yes, sir, I am proud to say that I am known ag Honorable Jesse Kedunk, member of assembly from Scoharie, yes,sir,”’ he replied, in a loud tone of voice. and then he looked around to see if the rest of Hig passengers were standing up to get a look at him, . “Tam delighted to know you, having, of course, heard much of you,’’ replied Gus, shaking him warmly by the hand, while the other members of the “gang” gathered around to see what was com- in z. “My name is Astor, You have probably heard of me or my father.” “ Gracious, yes! You don’t tell me that yu are Mr, Astor? Waal, I’m right glad tu shake and know pa 1 am, by gracious,” and he still held Gus by the hand and looked around to see if his wife and other pas- sengers were looking. “My dear sir, the pleasure is mutual; I always make it a point to get acquainted with all the dis: tinguished people, especially members of the legis- lature.” ‘Yes, I s’pose so,” i “Allow me to introduce you to some of the leading citizens of our great city. This is Mr. A. 'T. Stewart,” said he, presenting Shorty. f hia “Good gracious, yu don’t say so,” exclaimed Ke- dunk, looking down at the little runt. “ Waal, who'd a thought ‘it? ‘Ihad an idea that he was a big, tall an, : “Ah! Iam done too much,” said Shorty, reaching up for his hand, “Shake, ole man!”
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. i¥ “Of course I will, I'm right glad tu see yu, Mr. Stewart, I am, I declare.” “Me too; I always get introduced ter all big guns.” Mr, Kedunk laughed and looked around to note the effect of his ovation. - “And this is Commodore Vanderbilt,” said Gus, presenting Billy Barry. ‘Hon. Jesse Kedunk.” “You don’t say sol Commodore, Um right glad tu see yu,” and he nearly shook Billy’s arm off. “Mr, Kedunk, I’m overpowered.” “So be I. “Heard so much about you, you know.” “Waal, I suppose [ am pretty well known,” and again he looked around to note the effect. “I hear you are considered a great man up your E a i) \ i i | i | \ Mt | aM oe M pleasure in introducing you to the Honorable Jesse Kedunk, Member of Assembly from Scoharie.” The Honorable Kedunk bowed very low, for by this time he was very “‘full,” and could put on all the flourishes. tee “Speech—speech!” shouted Shorty and the gang. . The Honorable Kedunk didn’t need much urging at any time, but just now he was positively anxious to air,his eloquence, and show them whata great man he was, so he braced up, and began: “Fellow citizens—-? “Hooray—hooray!”’ yelled the gang. “Three cheers for Kedunk!” shouted Shorty; and before he could go any further with his speech, he was obliged to bow to the compliment, But in doing so he nearly lost his balance, and wh SS mY Z SASS il UA mM al f| ul cin Hi i aera er oy i Honorable Jesse Kedunk belongs to one of cur first families, besides being a member of the legislature, and Jam certain that it must be somebody who ia not aware of this fact who presumed to advise him to wipe off his chin. Proceed, Mr. Kedunk,”’ said Gus, looking as sober as an owl, “Fellow citizens, when in the course of human events, as my illustrious brother, Daniel Webster, ee there is no mistake about the times in which we ive, : This created a perfect furore of enthusiasm, an? everybody on board crowded around the speaker. “The times want—hic—that is tu say, they are shaky in the knees.” Great cheering. “What we want is brains—honest brains.” | Ae Ae ae a SE SO, : OS ZA Zip Ui Bundle sent a terrific Kick at him, missing Shorty, but taking his own feet from under him and landing him on his heed in a dreadfully demoralized condition. wt “Waal, yes, I b'lieve Iam. I was ‘lected by a large majority,” said he, proudly, ; “J should say so.” : ; “his is John Kelly,’ said Gus, presenting Harry Kennedy. ‘ 25 “Mr, Kelly, I've hearn lots "bout yu. I'm right glad tu see the boss of Tammany Hall,” and he reached | a out his big hana for Harry, ? “Oh, my dear sir, you cannot be any more delight- ed at seeing John Kelly than he is at making the ac- phe een) of the Honorable Jesse Kedunk,” said arry. x fa The, other members of the “gang” were introduced by various big names, atid by this time a large num- ber of the other passengers had tumbled’ to the racket and were gathered around to see the fun, “Will you join usin some refreshments?” asked thus; after they had all been introduced. “Waal, Il am not much of a drinking man, but when I’m asked by such distinguished folks I don’t see how I can refuse,” said he, “Jesse, you be careful,” said his wife, who had overheard the conversation. But he bestowed u look of withering contempt up- on her that seemed to make her grow old, after which he followed the fellows down stairs to the bar- room. — : Here they kept up the racket until they had “fired” abont a dozen drinks into him, and got bim to make. nearly as many speeches, which they ap- plauded roundly, ; Then they took him back into the state-room cabin to show him off. , : Taking his: arm, Gus Williams.led him to where there was quite a group of passengers gathered around the heater, and at once introduced him. “Ladies and gentlemen, knowing howit is myself, and believing that you will all be pleased to make the acquaintance of so distinguished a man, I take great came within an inch of tumbling over, which, of course, bronght forth more cheers from the gang. His wife, however, became very anxious on his ac- count, knowing his weakness, and she tried to get near enough to warn him that he was in bad com- pany. But as soon as the ovation subsided, he began gain. q “ “Fellow citizens——” Again did they cheer fim, and he had to stop for the purpose of acknowledging the compliment, never ye to the racket that was being worked on im. “Fellow citizens:—I—hic—i am very—hic—much obliged to Mr. Astor for introducing me tu your no- tice--hic!” E ? “Hooray—hooray! Three cheers for Kedunk!"* These calls were vigorously responded to. “As TI was about to say: ‘ "Pull down your vest/” said Harry Kennedy, imitat- iug somebody’s voice, and this raised a laugh. The half-dazed Kedunk looked around with a frown for the purpose of withering the person, when Shorty again proposed three cheers. By this time everybody began to see the fun of the thing, and Mrs. Kedunk became more anxious on ac- count of her distinguished husband. ; *Jesse!”’ she called, ‘be careful.” “Old woman, shut up,” said he, and this produced another cheer. + F “Well, fellow citizens, as I-——” “Get up ina chair!’ shouted somebody, and Gus assisted him to stand up in a stuffed chair. Here he balanced himself with some difficulty. “Fellow citizens——” mek: “Wipe off your chin |, Harry Kennedy said, imitat- ing another strange voice in the crowd. 4“ “Mr. Astor—Mr, Vanderbilt—hic—am I tu be in- sulted in this way?” exclaimed Kedunk, and this produced another laugh. * “Gentlemen, I trust this will not occur again, ‘The “Bah!? sad Kennedy this time imitated a cah, beautifully, and *‘calves’ brains” was so clearly hint. ed at that everybody saw it. aie “Whither are we drifting, fellow citizens?” Just as he propounded this political conundram. Shorty jerked the chair on which he stood, aud down came the Honorable. Kedunk, kerchunk, landing. on top of his anxious wife,who had by this time manag- ed to get near him. eats j ; A grand shout went up as Kedunk went down, but his wife had no idea of being fallen on and rollec oyer without pulling ip a kick or two on her. own ac éount; and having become disgusted with her hus- band, she now went at him tooth and nail, making the liveliest time for him that he had ever enjoyed. This created intense excitement among the pas- sengers, while Shorty and the others encouragea — them on and offered to bet first on one and then on™ the other, 3 ; : But the captain and two of the stewards put in an” appearance just then, and after considerable pulling + managed to separate husband and wife. . Piet, “Well, all right, if you won’t let us have it out here, U’ll take him tu our state room an’ finish him,™ said she, } ; ; ‘ “All right, but you must not disturb people,” saig the captain. i ; “Oh, Vil disturb him, never fear, Here, Jesse Ke- dunk, you come with me!” and she took him by the éar and Jed him meekly away. : ; He never said a word, evidently knowing that he was in the hands of his boss, but the gang and ths passengers followed them with laughter and cheers. “Good-by, Jesse!’ shouted Shorty, “Give him Jesse,” added Shorty, Jr.} “Tet him finish his speech!” said Gus. : , ' “Yes—yes! Speech—speech!” was the cry which several persons took up. : ; “You keep back!” shouted Mrs. Kedunk, turning and shaking her fist at the crowd. ‘You have play» 1
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18 PaaS OSES SRST ra SSS ed enough tricks on him tu-night. I’m goin’ tu put him tu bed.”” This, of course, raised another cheer for the old z assemblyman in which everybody joined, But before the crowd could catch up with them, she managed to unlock their stateroom door and to rush him inside out of sight and reach, However, Shorty and his gang were not inclined to give upthe sport is that way, so they gathered around the assembiyman’s stateroom door and be- gen tosing: UKs , “Just Think of Your Head in the: Morning!’ Whilo the serenade was in progress they heard a wild controversy going on in the stateroom, “Maria, let me out! hey expect & speech from me. Lemme go!’’ he was heard to say. “Jesse Kedunk, you undress yourself and get intu that bunk or I'll twist yer ear for yu,” the wife re- plied, and of course a shout followed. “Speech—speech!” was the outside cry. “Lemme go, Marial” “Now shut up and go tu bed or I'll box your éars for you!” ' ‘Them’s my “stituents, Maria, Lemme out!” Meanwhile the song was going on, and between the verses there arose a cry fora speech from Ke- dunk. : But Maria came to the front Sel time and kept her ambitious husband in the background so that the guys, his tormentors, conld not get him out. In vain he tried to convince her that ‘Mr. Astor’’ wanted him to geout and finish his speech; that “Mr, Stewart’? was anxions to hear his views on the political situation; that “John Kelly” was probably pining to hear his views regarding state politics. *“Kemme out!” he yelled. ~ “Jesse Kedunk, if yu don’t take off them Sunday clothes of yourn an’ go to bed, I'll just warm yu ast did last week.” : That settled it, and notwithstanding the distin- guished men who wanted outside for him, he con- cluded that he had better “turn in.” So this ended tha. racket, and in spite of the songs they sang, atid the calls they gave, the Honorable Jesse Kedunk could not be got past his wife to afford them any further gratification. ‘ Well, after having all the fun they could get out of the elements around them. Shorty and his gang con- cluded tozotobed. >. eee It was fun, and they tee all there wag to en- joy before anything in theshape of sleep could catch them, | 4 7. On arriving at Albany the next morning they all went to Stanwix Hall for breakfast, this being the hotel where the agent had engaged board for the week which they were to playin the city. Tne whole company, male and female, were seated at a single table, and were conversing on the various copies which naturally came up, when who should ents ne dining-room but Honorable Jesse Kedunk aud wife, ; But she was doing about the same as leading him, for eM tae he had a “head” on him, and was not himself at ali, | of Shorty and his gang gave him the grand laugh, which caused both him and his wife to look upin wonder, Of course they took a tumble the moment they saw ¢he company, and as they dropped into seats at the table next to them, there were opportunities to con- tinue the guying begun the night before. “Good-morning, assemblyman,” said Shorty,which every member of the company repeated in the hight, of mock modesty and propriety. The Honorable Kedunk not only tumbled, but he fell hard; 7 hurt. He remembered Gus Williams, as Mr. Astor; Shorty, as Mr. Stewart; Billy Barry, as John Kelly, and he felt sick. Consequently, he only bowed in the coolest manner to their salutations. The guying beeame so hot that he concluded that he hadn’t much of an a Pes for breakfast, and so got out as soon as possible, , Thus far on théir journey from New York they had eujoyed a heap of fun, and now that the principal cause of it had Cd at our,they bestowed themselves ns best they could in order to pass the day pleasant- ly, and be ready for the night’s business. But when night came there was’ a “big” house to greet the company, and thé rformance went off with a hurrah, Shorty taking the cake as usual. It so happened, however, that Mr, Bundle was at ne ait and, like everybody else, was greatly pleas- ed wivh it, : But there was something about Shorty which at- tracted his particular attention. Where had he seen ‘him before? That voice, that peculiar form—where bad he encountered it? This struck him’ Satie during Shorty’s last act, where he and the Kid had a banjo and tamborine solo, But when he came to sing his version of “Baby Mine,” he was more puzzled than ever. The papers gave the show a splendid notice the next mene, and another overflowing house greeted them the following night. : Little Mr. Bundle, the lawyer, was there again, and Jaughed himself red in the face as’'he'bad done the night before. But toward the end of the perform- ance he discovered the bottom line on the, pro- rarme, wherein Sherty announced himself as being search of his dad, and then the old fellow took a tumble. | He ' He turned around, and who should be standing near him but the Honorable Kedunk, to whom he had before that been introduced. Tliey greeted each other, but there was only. trifle of enthusiasm in ‘the agsemblyman, for he, too, had recognized in Shorty the ‘Mr. Stewart" of his steamboat experi- ance, and he felt just as though he had been taking oastor oil. SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HiS DAD. ———d ‘Did you ever see that little runt before?’ he asked, of the assembly man, “Did I! I tell you, Mr; Bundle, they’re a bad lof, very bad, Why, do you know that that little scoun— drel actually had the cheek to pass himself off as A. T. Stewart?” “If he’s the fellow I think he is, he has got cheek enough for anything, in addition to wearing two sets of teeth. Lowe hima thrashing and he is going to get it before he leaves Albany!” and he turned and left the place in a huff. , ‘ Now it so happened: that Billy Barry, whose busi- ness was over for the evening, was standing near at hand in company with Shanks, and they both over- heard the threat. Shanks, who had taken little or no part in the fun on board the steamboat, approached the Honorable Kedunk, : “I beg pardon, sir, but will you tell me who that small-sized old gentleman is who was just speaking to you?” he asked, respectfully, “Yes, sir, Lhave the pleasure of his acquaintance, His name is Bundle; sir, Bundle, and he is a rich law- yer, sir,” and Kedunk turned away just as though he nad said all he ought toto an ordinary mortal. Shanks sought Shorty, and related what he had overheard. “Oh, ho! dat’s der ole duffer dat I’m lookin’ for,” said he, laughing. : 5 “Well, he’s goin’ a-gunning for you with a whip.” “He is, hey? All right. He took one fall outer me, an’ I took one outer him; but if he arn’t satisfied, 7 try him some more,” pee te ‘What's the riot between you?’ Shorty related the circumstances of his visit to Al- poy some time before in search of his dad, as the reader doubtless remembers it. “Oh, L understand it, then,” and Shanks laughed heartily. “How is it!’’ “Why, he remembers the affair and you, and see- ing that bottom line on the bill, thinks that you put it there to euy and remind him of it.” “Guess dat’s so,” mused Shorty, And Shanks had actually hit it right, for that was precisely the view that Mr. Bundle took of it, and he wanted a small quantity of gore. Shorty thought over the matter awhile, and after the performance was concluded he sought one of the reporters of a morning paper, and gave him an ac- count of the whole affair, which resulted, in the next issue, in the following: , “A Lirrey RoMANCK. “Of course everybody knows Shorty, whose, fine variety troupe is now delighting the citizens of Al- bany, and they also know that he is a great practi- cal joker, But few have suspected that there wasa deep earnestness in the bottom line on his pro- gramme, wherein it is announced that he isin search of his father, yet there is. Shorty is a foundiing, and it is not to be wondered at that he would like to know something of his parents. It is for the purpose of learning something of them, or at least causing gen- eral RANE to be made, that he keeps that line standing. « lately been developed which points to a well-known lawyer, very short in stature, as being the father so long and earnestly sought. ' “This lawyer is supposed to be a, bachelor,but there ‘is a skeleton in everyone’s closet, Shorty was found in a bundle, and this goes far toward establishing his identity, so far as family name is concerned, Shorty has twice attempted to establish this identity, but has been cruelly rebuffed each time. Hov ever, it is now understood that he has additional proof, and he is about to proceed legally, for the purpose of com- pelling this heartless man to recognize the child he abandoned 80 many years ago. We shall watch the case with much interest.” Mr. , Bundle read the article the next morning. Wasn’t he mad? Didn't he howl and fight with overs Ucdy, he met? Well, yes, and é wasn’t the only erson Who recognized who was meant in the art- cle, and he threatened to arrest the editor of the Paper, to kill the writer, and pulverize Shorty into lust, Bundle found himself the laughing stock of the town, and those who didn’t laugh openly, cub or avoided him, so it is no w onder that he was nad, But Shorty didn’t know how very mad he was, and resolved upon Lt tpt him a visit some time during the day, although Shanks and the others aavised him notito do £0, “What! Dil make der ole duffer b’lieve dat he’s my dad afore { get finished wid him,’ and he and Gus Williams at once put their heads together to see how they could work it, CHAPTER Xi. Yes, Shorty and Gus Williams put pp the job of visiting Mr. Bundle, and dema 1ding of him an ‘ex- ban regarding the newspaper articles which ad set the whole city of Albany laughing. So each, with cheek enough for two rows >f teeth, set out forthe residence of the irate Bundle. He was not in when they called, but as he was mo- mentarily expected to return, they took seats in the reception room and waited. ’ . Shorty got out of sight behind a big easy chair that Stood against the wall, when he heard the old fellow coming, Jeaving Gus to work the racket according to the programme agreed on, Seath ” Bundle was looking daggers and meat-hooks as he entered the room. He had been guyed and laughed at by everybody he knew, and he was notin avery amiable mood, of course. a “Well, sir?” was his gruff salutation ut evidenee which is almost positive has |- ant “Ts this Mr. Bundle?” asked Gus, soberly, “Yes. What do you want?”” “A monient’s couversation, if you please.” “Who are you—what’s your name—whes do you want?” he demanded, savagely. “Tam adawyer, sir, by the name of Williams,” “Wiliams?” “Of New York.’ “Well, what is it?” ‘ “Do you father this eat sir?” asked Gus, handing him a marked copy of the paper in which the racket had been published, Thy old fellow snatched it out)of his hand and re- cognized it instantly. “What the devil vo you mean, sir?’ he demanded. _ “That's to be determined'on hereafter, sir,” replied Gus, bracing up. ‘What do you mean?” ne you come here te insult me in my own house, sir? “No, sir; but my cliet,the person herein mention ed and known as ‘Shorty,’ feels insulted, and f “The devil he dove!” “Yea, atid has instructed me to demand a publish- ed apology, or to proceed against you for damages.” “Great and everlasting Moses!” and the old man started back completely paralyzed by the audacity of the statemnent. ; “Sue mé for damages—me, the party most ridicul ed and injured? Well, I like thatt” “But my client does not.” “What the devil is the meaning of this, anyhow? Whois this runt? What does he mean by tormenting al al kick him all to pieces if I ever set eyes on him!" d yey Shorty felt uncomfortable in hig hiding-place, for the prospect of being kicked all intooat-ment did not exactly suit him; so ping out from behind the chair, and seeing that Bundle was standing with his back turned toward him, he stole out and took a seat softly inthe chair, ; aR “Tn that case, sir, he would have dowdle cause of | action:” : ; WEE “Oh, hang his action, and yours, too. I think this is one of his confounded jokes, He came to m house once before, and tried to make it out that was his father.” ogee “Weil, in this case it appears that somebody else is trying to make ft out.” esa “On, hang somebody eles. It was some of his own doings,” replied Bundle, bait . “But he thinks it was geome of yours.”” x “Why don’t you go to the office of the paper and find out about it?” aie bane Mak “That is what I have done, sir, already, but they ‘pretend to know nothing about it, and so, if you re- se to apologize through the same paper, we shall gue you jointly.” 61S we ; Gus was playing his part well. _ : : “The idea of my being his father!” ; “Ab! thatis whats think, ©. ” , “Or anybody’s father.” che Yen ay “We know nothing about that, sir, Thatis nob to the point.” And you were overheard to threaten my client—threaten to horsewhip him, sir.” ‘ “And so I ought—so I ought!” ” “Ailof which will show motive, sir,” “It’s an infernal outrage, sir.”” ‘ “That's precisely the way we regard it.” ; “But, demit, sir, the outrage ls agalier me, sir, me, Do you understand?” aD (2 “Very well, then, we shall have to allow the courts Me penne between us, Come, Shorty,” said Gus, aris- ng to go. . yin GAR At the mention of his name, Bundle tarned quickly around, . What, you herer” he demanded. “Yes, old man, here Iam,” replied Shorty. “Confound your stunted, runted body, I’ve a good mind to kick you into the street.” “Don’t get off your cabase, ole man.” “How dare you darken my doors again, sir?” “J didn’t darken none of yer doors. Never darken- ed a door in my life,’ said Sherty, as he was edging away to reach one which led te the hall, “Get out of my house, sir?’ and he ‘started as though about to assist him with the toe of his shoe. “Better be careful, Mr. Bundle, or you will make matters worse,”’ aaid Gus, standing in the entry. “Hang you and your matters. Get out!” ©» Gus opened the front. door and obeyed, thinking Shorty was close behind, : But Bundle lost control of hinrself and began to go for Shorty, chasing him around the room for the purpose of doing him bodily harm, Shorty would dodge behind chairs and then throw them down to let the old fellow fall aver them. ‘ Finally, however, he darted ont towards the front door, closely followed by Bundle in a very angry mood, having barked his shins two or three times. Just ag he reached the front stoop, which he clear- ed at a bound, Bundle sent a terrific kick at him, missing St but taking his own feet out from under him and landing him on his head in a dread- fully demoralized condition. ““Pa-ta, daddy. How does that feel?” asked Shorty, laughing loudly, as did Gus, The old rooster picked himself np, and withont word looked aronnd in a dazed sort of a way’ to see where the mule was that kicked him. acts “~a-te, daddy. Be good ter yerself, daddy, an’ don’t bump yer head,” chirruped Shorty. “Oh, go to the devil!” snapped Bundle, as he bang- ed the front door shut, and was lest to sight.” ‘This ended that part of the snap, but Gus wrote up a full account of the visit for the same paper, and fy ues ae was even more laughable than ‘th ‘grst article. ae $ Mer lepine That night, when Shorty made his appearance, he found a packed house, aud received a tremendous “ovation which lasted several minutes, He had pre-
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es pared himself with an original song, written by Gus Williams, and this he sang for his encore, each verse of which ended with the refrain: ‘‘And Bundle, he stood on his head.” It took like a house afire, and assisted materially in making Bundle seem ridiculons and Shorty popular, Ip fact, he might have played another week there and drawn good houses, had he not been billed for Troy and Lansingburg. / But Bundle didn’t hear the last of the racket for a fong time, and if he had fondly dreamed. that it was forgotten, this chapter of my story, will be very apt so undeceive him, At Troy they had heard all about the affair, and the restilt was an overflowing house to welcome Shorty’s Varieties, and. especially Shorty himself, for the boys all felt as though they were personally acquainted with the comical little runt, having read go much about him in the favorite paper, Taz Boys or New Yore. : They had lots of fun there, but probably nothing made the show more popular than a song that Shorty sang, relating to an uctual eccurrence there in she city, and which had afforded everybody a great deal of fun, as the hero was well-known. It appears that a young fellow who went to see & girl, was greatly annoyed by her parents and broth- er, who refused to leave them alone. In faot, they did not like him a cent’s worth, and so he thought he would put up a jobon them. ~ ; It was about the time that the “lover’s telegraph” first came into use, and learning how to work one of them, he bought it to take with him the next time be went to see her. But the song tells the story nouch the best. He sang it with banjo accompani- Oaent: : When first I went to see my girl, I courted her in the dark; Bot her father and mother, and cock-eyed brother ; ; Would watch us while we'd spark, But I bought a new invention, 4 To give them all the laugh; > “Twas a little tin box with a string in the end, Cailed the lovers’ telegraph. * When next I went to see my girl I )adn’t but little to say; I gave her one end of the little machine, And sat about twenty feet away. Her father thought I acted strange, And called me a great big calf; But he didn’t know how the old thing worked Through the lovers’ telegraph. ; "Oh, darling Nellie, dost thou know I lovest thee the best?” ‘When soft the answer zame to mo: “Oh, George, pull down your vest?” “Ob, angel, wilt thou fly with me To the land of the wild giraffe”. She answered back: “How are you fixed?” Through the lovers’ telegraph, } Oh, love went flying through the string, *TH her brother found us out, And then he whispered to his pa What we had been about, The old man gently raised his foot, And split me nearly {n half; He burst a hole in my new pants— And that lover's telegraph! The song made a great hit, and is sung to this day among “the boys.” | _ : \ And it was at Troy that there transpired another sensation in the shape of @ love affair. Ella Mayo, being naturally a very handsome girl, looks eyen better on the stage, and a young fellow named Hess fell desperately in’ love with her, He was literally ‘‘mashed;” all broke up, He sent her the handsomest bouquets he conld buy; wrote her perfumed and highly seasoned notes; gent her presents of all sorts, and in various ways made a big calf of himself. v But as she cared nothing for him, of course he was bore, especially as ha was cheeky enough to show everybody that he was “gone’’on her, and called ree attention of everybody to the presents he made er, f ; “A mash’? is no new sensation for this charming tone serio-comic singer, but they sometimes go too i and then she generally manages to give them a AL) - In this instance she had heard that he was boasting among his friends of his acquaintance with her, and how far he calculated to carry it.. ‘This annoyed her very tnach, and so she appealed to Shorty, giving him full particulars. : “Oh, Vl) sugar dat duffer off,” said he. * “Here is a note from him, asking me to meet him at an oyster saloon to-night,” said she, indignantly. *Dat’s all right, baby, dat’s all hunk.” “itis! Not much. Do you suppose L would do such athing as that?” “Course not,”’ “Then why do you say it is all right?” * *Canse 1’) make it all right.” “How?” “ _ : “Well, yer jes write ter him, tellin’ him dat yer'll meet him.” Bit * “What!” she demanded, quickly, “Make him think yer mashed.”*”’ } “Not much,” , i i “Never you mind, I'll work der rest part of it, yer it.” : j v4 y " “How, a racket?” “Yes,” Yer jes Write dorietter,” “All right; Pl write,” said she, laughing. SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. 19, “An’ Vil go right for him.” Be With this understanding they separated, and she sent the fellow a note, stating that notliing would give her greater pleasure than to meet and spend a few hotirs with him. But being so well known, she wodld not think of going into a public place without being closely veiled. ‘ The letter pleased Shorty and he proceeded to car- ry out-his part of the business, assisted by Billy Bar- ry and several other members of his company. ; As for Hess, he was simply delighted, and showed the letter to, all of his acquaintances, telling them to be around at or near the saloon and see him waltz in with the famous beauty who had gone so complete- ly mashed on him. He was, in fact, 2 great ladies’ man, and just mean enough to boast of his conquests, and so a large number of friends were on hand to see if he really did carry off the beauty whom half the fellows in town were trying to win a smile from. ‘ At the show that evening he ‘made. himself very couspicuous by throwing a large bouquet at Ella, and afterwards telling several of his friends that he had an appointment to take her tosupper after the entertaininent. Well, Shorty and the others worked the thing upin first-class style; Billy Barry, being the nearest to her | in size, was selected to personate her, and he pro- ceeded to dress himself in female costume and to make up to all outward appearance to resemble her. But he blackened his face, over which was drawna thick veil, and at the appointed hour he wert to the place agreed upon where’ Hess was to bein waiting for her, followed by the whole gang, who stationed themselves in convenient places to see what should tuke place, Even Ella, closely veiled, was out to:see the sport. : 3 Hess was waiting for her, and his friends were waiting at the saloon for him, the proprietor of which was astonished at the rush of business without know- ing the cause of it. : : The boastful beau was all scented up and dressed to mash, and as Billy approached him, he hastened forward, all smiles and bows. “Ah, Miss Mayo, I presume?” said he, © **Yes, Is this Mr. Hess?” asked Billy, imitating El- la’s voice to a nicety, | : “Your most obedient lover. Oh, how glad Iam to take you by the arm; to. have an opportunity of en- circling your exquisite waist with my anxious arm, and telling you how I love you.” i “Tam so thankful,” replied Billy. shyly. ' “Do you say 80, Ella? Am Ithen the happy pos- sessor of your love?” and he tried to kiss her, “Don’t give it away, please.” “Ah, you do not know nie, my dear girl! I would die first, believe me.” 5 ** But you may have other girls wha love you.” “‘ Well, a fellow can't help that, you know. I dare say that a great many love me, but Lam not respon- sible for that, and care nothing for them, But even had I been ever so much in love when I first saw you, your haunting smile would have banished all such ideas, But come, let us go for some refresh- ments.” { “Oh, please don’t. It is such a beautiful night, and only think how much nicer a walk would be.” ** Refrestiments first, darling, and then we will go out for a moonlight walk or ride,” said he, for he had no idea of giseppolntie his friends, who were wait- ing to witness his triumph. : “Very well, be it ns you say,” and he took the fel- low’s arm with all the grace of a woman. t In fact, he leaned on him a trifleas they walked along, and he hugged thearm upso close to him that it almost stopped the circulation of the blood. The members of the company piped them off as they passed arm in arm along the street in the direc- tion of the supper room, as did several of his friends who were scattered along the sidewalk. *t Halloo, Ella,” said Shorty, seeming to meet them accidentally, and raising his hat. ** Good evening, Mr. Shorty,” pina Billy. * Ah, Eilat” chirruped Gus Williams, litting his hat with considerable flourish,’ “ Halloo, Gus,’’ he replied. “Beg pardon, Miss Mayo,” said Hess, ‘‘ but how is it possible for those gentlemen to récognize you with your close veil?” , j “Oh, they know my valk,” and Billy began to wriggle himself and put on style. ** Well, Lshouldn’t wonder. Think I should know it myself among\a thousand,” and he squeezed his arm up against his body in the most expressive, manner. | ** Oh, you flatterer!”* “Not me, upon my word,” “Do you like my walk, pet?” “Like it! Well, Ishould say so. It is the most beautiful and queenly walk that I ever beheld. It is positively splendid, and it is no wonder that you charm everybody while on the stage.” “Oh, pet, you. are feeding me with peppermint- anova) said Billy, in his most bewitchirg tone of voice. By this time they had arrived at the saloon, where they took seats in a most conspicuous place, this be- ing a part of Hess’s plan te show off his conquest to his friends. But not only were his friends there, but nearly every member of Shorty’s troupe, and strange enough, everybody appeared to be hungry and to have ordered some sort of refreshment. The whole thing was nicely arranged, but Billy ap- peared to be annoyed at meeting so many of the? company, ; ; “‘I say, pet, I don’t like to stay here; there are.so many people staring at mo,”* . “Oh, don’t mind them, darling.” “De you suppose they know me?" - CE eae Ct Sn *“Y shouldn’t think so. Never mind if they do. What will you have in shape of refresiiments?”” “Are you sure that you have not toid any of your friends or anybody about coming here with met” asked Billy, placing his dand on Hess’s arm, ‘“‘No—-no, my beauty. Do you suppose for a mo- ment that I could be guilty of sach perfidy?” “TI should hope not, certainly, and yet it seems so strange to see so Many here and all looking at me. I'll have a dozen on the half-shell and a bottle of Mumm,” he added, Hess at once finished the order and gave it to ¢he waiter who was standing by, “Now,” thought the masher, “she will have to lift ee veil to eat and drink, and then the gang can see per. “I wonder what has made the company s0 hungry to-night?” mused the supposed Ella, “It does look a trifle queer; but do you know I have an idea that they think it strange because you are so closely veiled,” said Hess. ie “Oh, no, I always go veiled this way when I am out. But it is very strange, I never knew them to be 80 hungry and dry before at the end of a perform- ance. “Suppose you raise your yeil a trifle,” he lovingly make those other suggested. “No—no; it would onl: people stare the more, I wish they, would go away.” bys “Ah, Miss Ella, that is a penalty of popuiarity.”, “IT suppose 80,” she faltered, Just then the oysters came, and the wine was open- ed, A glass was placed before the veiled damsel, “Mies Mayo, my kindest regards and hopes for our future meetings and ald es era said Hess, raising @ glass of the sparkling wine to his lips, “Well, here’s Juck, old man,” said Billy, changing his voice and tearing, off his veil with one hand and lifting the glass of champagne with the other. A wild shout came from Shorty and his gang, while the friends of Hess were nearly as much aston- ished as he- was, and gathéred around, | : Hess gazed at Billy for an instant like one in a dream, and comprehending the trick that had heen played on him, he leaped to his feet. “Here she goes, t; here’s to our future happi- ness!’’ said Billy, and drank another glass amid rears of applause that shook the building, Hess uttered one word which would rhyme very nicely with ‘‘well,” and then making a dash for the door, he darted outof it as though the devil had been after him with a sharp stick, ‘ : Shorty sat down and helped Billy finish thé bottle, and amid the utmost merriment, the affair was brought to a successfal issue, : But Hess, oh, where was he? Well, it isn’t certain to this day what has become of him. He is supposed to be in New York, but yet he may have left the country, i Atall events, he never showed up in ‘troy after that tremendous racket, and yet, if he expects the memory of it has faded ont, this ghapter of “Short in Search of his Dad” will convince him that it is sti remerabered, rer oraaes From Troy.the company went to Laneingburgh where they again encountered a g house, as where the fame of Shorty had long azo reached. ‘CHAPTER XIIL Tux racket op Hess at Troy became known for miles. around, and Shorty as the hero of it was talke 1 of by almost every body. ; It became known in Lansingburg before he reach- ed there, and did more to bring out a full honse than all the advertising done, In fact, Shorty’s pranks. and the reputation he had for working them, di more for him wherever he went than ‘all the pasting and billing could do. ; i ‘ Lansingburgh is one of the qnietest old towns in the State of New York. although there are muny bright lads to be found there, and many a bevy-of pretty girls. : Shorty and his company took the town by storm, of course, as they did nearly every town they struck, and as a natural consequence there was a packed house to welcome them, where a dozen other shows had not attracted people enough to pay expenses, and had gone away cursing the town, © 7 But the right ticket takes the old town, you bet. And it was here that Shorty had another “dad” adventtre—one of the most Jaughable of all he had 80 far encountered. e p . Of course the bottom line of the programme at- tracted considerable attention, as it always did—and among those who became thoughtful and interested over it was” little old Dutchman by the name of Hans Von Keifer. j What his history had been nobody knew, but he was thought to be worth some money, and to boa bachelor without heirs, At all evente, he somehow became greatly interested in Shorty, and resolyed to have a talk with him. ; t : They were billed in Lansingburg for three nights, and the day following the first performance, he wait- ed upon Shorty at his hotel, sent up his card, and negureres an interview in the parlor. ; Shorty came down from his room, somewhat bored, thinking that it. was some business which Shanks,his partner, should have attended to, } : But when he beheld the pussy little Dutchman who stood but a trifle higher than he did himself, he at once put on a broad grin and became interested, “Ha! dosé vas Misder Shordness?” he asked, gee ting up and approaching the little minstrel. “Dat’s me, ole man; halloo!” “Gootr? é ; “Oh, itis, hey? How good?” bane "I vos glat for ter spriken soroedings mit yeu.”
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90 gaid the Dutchman, shaking him cordially by the hand. gincars “T suppose so. Well, how is it?” “Puddy goot.’’ “How much of it yer got?” “So. Goott” j “T spose so. What is it?” “Yaw, I see me dot,” said he, handing Shorty one of the A Siena! ‘und I say dot I vill see ‘bout dot puddy quick.” ae “Oh, yer did, hey?” ; “J dinks me dot’ maybe I’ vos bimeby your fader maybe,” said he, laughing. “Nop? “Yaw; I hear me dot you-vos Dutch,” “Oh, I’m Dutch as sauerkrout.’” “Goot! Und you have no fader?” “No; won’t nobody have me." “Sor”? «They say I’m no good.” F “J dinks,dot I vos yourn fader," said the little old man. looking serious. “What makes yer think so?" “T hear me bout dem tricks dot you blay.” “Well?” : “Dot makes me dink so, for, py jinks, I vos make me so much foolishness mit everybody all der vile ven I vos a kid.” ; “On der racket, hey?” “Yaw.” “Do it any now?"’ “Somedimes, I bade you.” “Like a joke, hey?” ? “Yaw; besser as peer or sauerkrout.” “How old are yer?” J “Hordy-two.”” : : “Oh, ho!” thought Shorty; “soif he is my dad, he must have started young, seein’ as how I’m *bout thirty-five myself.” “How old vos yeu?” “Oh, I’m under forty-two.” _ “I dink me dot yos so. Vere you vos all der vile?” he added. “Oh, all over.” : “Bud vere you vos fust off?" “New York.” " ; “Dot is so. I lose me vone liddle poy den year ago in dot cidy, und he vos a smard liddle fellow,you “Dat one of der simptoms, ole man,” said Shorty, laughing. : “J bade you!” ’ They laughed at each other, but there was about as mueh resemblance between them as there is be- tween chalk and cheese, Shorty, however, was disposed to humor the old fallow, seeing that he was honest and undoubtedly. in earnest, * “iver seen my, show ?"’ “Yaw, last night, und I laugh me so much dot I bust mine puttons off.” _, “Dat's anoder simpton, ole man,” “Yaw. How old vos you ven you vos found?” ** Bout six,’? waa “So! Dot vos der age of mine Pilly.” “Oh, his name was Billy, hey?” “Yaw. How long ago vos it dot somepody find you $n dot Ni Yark?” ai “Bout thirty years,” said Shorty, soberly. “VYot vos dot you say?” exclaimed the old mam, springing to his feet and. glaring at him. “I'm givin’ it ter yer straight, ole man.” “Mine Gott in Himmel! How vos dem dings?” “Figeer’em out—I can’t.” “J dinks me dot I make von liddle misdake,”’ said the little old fellow, looking puzzled. “Well, yes, it does look some like it.” “J dinks me dot you vas not mine liddle Pilly dot I lost,’’ said hé, sadly. “Tf yer: well fixed, I’m sorry, too,” Aan “Oh, mine liddle Pilly, Ware is mine liddle Pilly?” “Give it up. I'm lookin’ for a little ole man with a’ wart on his bugle,” sAid Shorty. 5 4 vot on his vot? he asked, surprised. “Wart on his bugie.”’ \ “Vot vas a vot, und vot vas a meet. ’ “A watt, is it?” C2’ Nh ‘ “An’ a bugle?” “Yaw,” ; ra “Well, a wart isa wart, an’ a bugle is a bugle,” said Shorty, with a’grin. “Yon of dem titigs dot you blay ‘toot—toot’ on?’ “Now yer whistle.” epee “Oh, a pugle, Yaw, 1 forstay. Bud vot is a vot?” ““A corn without a shoe on it,’ “I see me nod dot,” said he, shaking bis head. “Yer could see it if yer had one.” “Oh, dot English language makes me so sick. You look for a man dot hafe a corn on his pugle?” _ Shorty, winked and nodded. : .“Dem tings beat all dot I know of Lad ie a en. I dinks dot'you make some foolishness mit me all der vile.’ ... _. “Oh, no, honest Injun.” 3 “An Injun mit a corn on his pugle?”’ “Maybe he’s an Injun,” : “Nix forstay;” said he, sadly, fer with his imper- fect knowledge of the English language, he could not get the drift of Shorty’s slang, and so he wisely concluded to give it up, seeing that there was no rospect of making it out that Shorty was his long lost BON. eae ayaa cia , “Well, have a.bajl?” asked the little joker. *Vot yas dot?” oe . Ball?” . Ae pei le “{ blay me nod dot beese ball.” “Want ter bé *blowed off'?”” “How vas dot?” asked the puzzled Dutchman. | “Fire in one?’ "~~ : u/ SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. beet $$ $e, “T see me nod vot you say.” “Have a drink?” ~ ° “Yaw; I hafe some peer,”’ said he, fully under- standing that question. | ““ood *nough. “‘Céme down stairs,” said Shorty, leading the way. 4 “Dot Englisher language vas too much for me,” he muttered, as he waddledalong. On reaching the bar-room they found the gang there listening to some of Gus Williams’ “chestnuts,” and the moment they saw Shorty and the little old fellow coming in, arm in arm, they sent up a shout, “Found his dad at last,” said Billy Barry. “Sure case this time,” suggested Harry Kennedy, laughing, ‘He's got ’em bad,” added Gus. “Yes, boys, I’s. found him at last,” said Shorty, looking honest. ‘How d’yer like his nibs?” “First-class!” “Good fit!” “Qhip of the ole block!’’ “Two ole blocks, I should say,” added Shorty, Jr., regarding them. “Come ’h fire in one on der strength of it; I’m shoutin’,”’ said Shorty. “Oh, we’ll all take a hand in the ‘fire-works’,” said Gus, ‘Give mea beer,” fe “Senators, Hans Von Keifer,” said Shorty, intro- ducing him. Von Keifer shook hands with them all around, and while they were saying how delighted they were at making his acquaintance, he was vainly trying to ex- plain his presence in their midst, But he got mixed up so badly that he didn’t know where he was him- self, when Gus came to his rescue, imitating the old fellow’s Dutch and style to a dot. we “Ah, I doles you ’boud how dem dings vas all der vile,” he began, _ “Yaw, goot!” said the old fellow, glad to find some- body whom he thought would get him out of the snarl he was in, ‘ “Herr Von Keifer vas lose his liddle Pilly ven he vas a poy; dot is ter say, ven der Poy yas liddle, nod Herr Von Keifor. So! Und ven he make come py dose hodel, he come in here ter find dot liddle Pilly poy. So! Und he say, everypody come und dake a drink mit me; und ve say——"' ‘Yes,’ chorused the gang. “Of course.” » ‘Why not?” “He shouts!"’ . . “Fe balls!” and a dozen othe the old fellow almost distracted. But he knew what was expected of him, and went to the front like a little man, “Now we understand it,” said Billy Barry. “Mine Gott! I hopes you do, but I don’d,” said Von Keifer, drinking his beer. ; ; ‘ _ “Ob, dat’s all right now, ole man. Fill em up again, ramrod,” said Shorty. True, the old Dutchman was completely bewilder- ed, as who escaped being who fell into the hands of that gang? But he had lots of fun in him, and stuck to them until he had lots of' beer in him, and then they made him sing and dance before the crowd who had gathered to see the fun. In fact, they kept him on astring allthe afternoon, and finally sent him home in a carriage, so full that the beer ran out of his eyes. : Well, this was about all that happened in Lansing- burg worth nientioning, and after playing three nights to very good business, they went to Saratoga, leaving pleasant memories behind them, even with Von Keifer, who (after he had got the swelling out: of his head) enjoyed many a hearty laugh whenever he remembered the racket that they worked on him. But he was exceedingly careful how he went hunting for his “liddle Pilly” after that. | - At Saratoga they found that their fame had pre- ceded them,for the Saratogian had’ republished both the Albany and Troy rackets,.creating quite as much merriment as the originals had. The hotels at this season of the year (being all summer hotels) were closed, and the agent of the troupe had engaged board for them at three or four different private houses. : 3? Shorty, Gus Williams, Harry Kennedy and Shanks were quartered at one house, while'the others were more or less scattered. - : wey? The first night’s house was a ‘‘corker,”’ and after the show was over they felt like having a little pri- vate ‘‘circus;” in fact, any number of them, Especi- ally was this the case with Shorty, as usual, for the little runt was never too tired for fun. Harry Kennedy was also full of life, and was ready with his ventriloquism’ to assist in anything that might come, up. \ The old woman who kept the boarding-house where they stopped was a tart old granny. She was eager to make all the money she could out of the gang, but if they made the least disturbance, she was on her ear right away and wanted to fight, Shorty and his companions were not ‘long in find- ing this out, and, as a matter of coursf, they did all they could to work her up to the boiling point. It was the second night after their arrival that the ‘old gal met them in the parlor on their return from the show. ea ae : “Gentlemen,” said she, “I mere a respectable house, if it is a boarding-house,and I wish you to un- derstand that I will not have so much noise after you retire to: your rooms.” “What is the trouble?” asked Shanks. i “Trouble! This is not‘a gambling-house, I’d have you know,” said she, sharply. . “Who said it was?” , “But you were gambling up stairs last night and wild b aaiee drove eee a Ee SO OE ES is SE eee a i . making a noise.” “How do you know we were gambling?” “Because I listened at the door. I won't have such goings on in my house.” “My dear madame, we were. only playing a little game of Methodist poker——” Ree, “I know it—I knew it!” hee “To see whether we should pay you three or fous dollars a day for board while we stayed here,” “TI don’t believe a word of it, sir, not a word of it. You wouid sooner run away and never pay a cent,” said ‘she. = “My dear madame, you are ‘mistaken.” “No, I’m not. I know what you showmen are,” Harry Kennedy had made friends with her old cat in the meantime, and was quietly stroking her fur while the conversation was going on, the cat raising up her back most lovingly at every stroke he gave her. “Very fine cat yon have here, Mrs. Lemon,” said Harry, but she only looked contemptuously at him. “A regular sooner cat.” ’ “T only trust that you will behave yourself as well as the cat does,” she said. _ “Tell her to shoot herself] the cat seemed to say, in a piping voice. . ate The reader will at once recognize Mr. Kennedy's artful ventriloquial power in making the old eat ap- pear to talk. ! The landlady started back in surprise. “Oh, dat’s allright. I know’d she was a talker when I fust seed her,” said Shorty. “Of course,” chimed in the others. “All she wanted was to be drawn out," said Har~ ry, and the gang looked serious and interested. “What’s the matter with that cat? Did she speak?” the anxious old woman asked, approaching nearer. “Of course, Didn’t you know she was a talker?” “She'san old fraud,” the cat seemed to say, and then the boys laughed. “Mercy on me!” exclaimed the old woman, breatir lessly. ‘What doesit mean?” : “She starves me!” “What a lie!’ squealed Mrs, Lemon. “She's an old frava!” “Gracious goodness!” : “The old cat seems ter know yer,” said Shorty, laughing heartily. , : r “You bet I do!” and Harry manipulated the cat something as he does his little dummies when doing his act upon the stage, causing her to look areund at her mistress and move her head to suit the action to the word. y “ This made the old gal squeal right ouf, and she looked as though she was goiug to faint. “Quick, some water!’ shouted Gus, and Shanks ran to the kitchen for some, hy “Oh, she’s only making believe!” said the cat. “Oh—oh—oh!”" she screamed, “Kill that awful cat! oh—oh—oh!”? and she tried to tumble iuto Gus Williams’ arms for the purpose of fainting. But Gus stepped aside, and fet her tumble whack upon the floor, This made her mad, ani she was on the point of getting up and scratching his eyes out, when Shanks returned with abig dish of water an threw it all over her. : é Aint This brought her to in a hurry, but in the mean time Shorty had snapped a patent clothespin (which he always carried) upon the old cat’s tail, and she gave one bound and landed upon Mrs. Lemon with tailerect, back up,and claws out. During the next two minutes there was the great- est hurrah and mixing up of clawing cat aid claw- ing landlady that was ever seen, during which the gangran up stairsto Shorty’sroom. Of course there was a grand laugh, butafter the old. woman and the cat had got through with their little scrimmage, and tabby. had been “fired out,” they heard her storming around and threatening what she would do in thé morning, which ‘what’? nae obeing: loss than havisg them arrested for as- sanit, Te 4 fi But this did not prevent the boys from having their laugh out, or from having a quiet ‘game of poker” after the thing had got quietec down,, But Mrs. Lemon had her back up high, and after passing a sleepless night—which she was greatly as- sisted in doing by the gang—she made an early stars in the morning for a justice of the peace, for the purpose of swearing out a warrant for the arrest of Shorty, whom she recognized as the leader of the racket. - é PRT te On going down to breakfast, however, they became aware of what was on foot, for Shorty “staked” the colored servant, and he gave it all away. Gon’ fo’ a constable, shuah,” said he. - “What for, sweetness?” said Shorty. { “Well, she say dat she nebber was so.'suited in de whole cos’ ob her life,” said he, with agrin, . “Got ’em bad, eh?” ‘ “Dat am what she say, boss,” replied the darkey. opening his mouth wide enough to take in a sewing machine. “Guess you’d better scatter.” “Phink shé is in earnest?” asked Gus. “Boss, you don’t know dat ole gal, fo’ if yer did, yer wouldn't ax dat question.” $ They guyed theservant during breakfast, and then retired to Shorty’s room again, pity ; “We'll have some fun,” said Shorty” “How, beilig arrested?” asked Kennedy. “No, in not bein’, ver bet,” a “How’'ll you work it?” Ct Ye aia “Wait an’ see,” , we . gale “Oh, we'll wait,” said Gus, lighting a segar. 4 There was no doubt but that the old gat had gone off fer the purpose of having them arrested, and so Shorty began to make prepercnons forit. «— @énding Shanks and the others away so ag to: be out of the reach of*any warrant that might :he brought to bear upon them, he proceeded to dress
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(“but this is one of their horrible beasts. SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD, - aL himself in his monkey suit, taking great pains to work the thing fine. . ‘ ° He had scarcely succeeded in gettlng things just as he wanted them before Mrs. Lemon returned, bring- ing with hera “Saratoga constable,’”’ who had a war- rant for his arrest for assault. Of course she took him directly to Shorty’s room, but on opening the door, all they could see was a big monkey, perched upon the bureau and chattering away very indignantly, “What is this?” demanded the constable. _ “Oh, they have fled,” said she, looking around; Take him into custody, and they will be sure to show them- selves,” “But Ihaven’t a warrant for a baboon,” “Never mind; take him, and they will be sure to come after him,” Eee “He—he seems a ferocious animal,’ “Nonsense; take him into custody.” *“Are—are you sure he’s—that is—harmless?" “To be sure’ he is, Whoever knew.a monkey to bite? I’m ashamed of you, sir,’’ said: she, mocking- ly. 3 ( ‘ Yrhe constable had his official reputation to main- tain, and so he proceeded to take the monkey into custody, approaching hini cautiously, But he wasn’t half cautious enough for his own good. He had no sooner got near enough to him: than Shorty gave a terrific yell and leaped upon the officer's back. ee 9 Seizing him by the hair, and holding on by hishind jegs, as he knew so well how todo, he fired his pistol in the air, frightening both the constable and the landlady half out of their wits. Ja : They both made a break for { toons, while Shorty clung to the officer, and kept fir- ing chamber after. chamber of his revolver, and tte other people in the house flew to see what. the row was all about, ‘ ; Out of the front door they ran, and it would have | been the solving of a prize puzzle to say which of them was the most frightened, the officer, or the old woman, But at the front gate Shorty leaped from his back, and rau chattering back into the house and up to his room.” : j No return, however, for that constable. He never stopped running until he reached a doctor’s shop, into which he rushed and anneunced that he had been shot full of bullets, ‘besides a his brains blown out by one of the most reiowned desperadoes ever known, 4 Bein pa The doctor hastily examined him, and finding no wounds on his person, but believing him tobe drunk, ite Kicked him out of his office, and told him to go home and sleep it off. : CHAPTER XIV. Oup Mother Lemon was quite as much frightened as the constable was, and without allowing the grass to grow under her feet, she ran to a neighor’s house and announced breathlessly that the devil was after | her, : They tried to talk her out of it, but it was some time before they could get her quieted down suf- ficiently to accompany them back to her house, where, upon investigation, they found Shorty in bed, tending to be sick from the fright he had received yy a huge monkey that she wa8 permitting to roam shrough her house. ; In fact, 80 well did he play his part (after having hidden his monkey areas) that the old woman was greatly beside herself. But he brought her to her senses by threatening to sue her on account of it. “Po you pretend to tell me that that monkey was not your own property?’ she demanded. “Never owned a monkey in my life, and I think you keep that one to get square with yer enemies. Drove all der boys away,” said Shorty. The old woman looked frightened and puzzled. “well, if it wasn’t your monkey, whase was it?” “Give it up, ole gal, but I tell yer yer can’t play Koots on travelers.” y “Now I'll leave it to any person in Saratoga if I ever owned such a thing as 2 monkey. : “But whether it was your’n or not, yer ‘lowed it ter bounce ’round yer shebang, an’ scare folks half ter death; so yer liable, ole gal.” “Tiable for what?” she asked, in alarm, “Wer damages.” “Damages!”? “A thousand at least,” said Shorty. “No, sir, never.” +S ie “Tt has frightened me so I’m off my nut. “What?” ; “Crazy—jiggy!” and Shorty began to slam around the bed furiously. . “Why, what isthe matter with you? she asked, in alarm, “Look out for me; I’m liable ter break out any mo- ment,” “Qh—oh!”? ves “I’m a-goin’ ter bust!’” “Oh—oh! Please don’s,’” “There’s ther monkey!" he suddenly exclaimed, pointing towards the door, _ “A-a-h!”’ she yelled, and leaped up on the wash- stand) * ; n “There he is!” “17a wa—mercy!” and in attempting to! turn around in order to see the terrible beast, she some- how got her feet mixed up, and down she'came, bringing everything movable with her. Did she yell? Well, somewhat. It isn’t certain that people heard her half a mile away, but if they had been listening they might have done so without any difficulty. Her servants and boarders rushed into the room in the door, yelling like |: alarm, and there they saw her on the floor, kicking and clawing around in the wildest manner for some- body to “‘take him away.”’ Shorty was nearly bursting with laughter, and the scene presented was quite enough to work a sick muls into laughing. A “Oh—oh! Take it away!’’ she yelled. “What is it?” they demanded. ‘Drive it out!” “What? : “That horrible monkey.” “Where is it?”’ y “T_T don’t know. Ask him,’ said she, pointing to Shorty. “Git out! Ididn’t see nuffin’,” said he. **You said you did.’ “Well, I’m off my cabase.”’ “What is that?” “I’ve got ’em.” “What do you mean, for goodness sake?” “T told yer dat I war crazy on ’count of yer bloody ele monkey. Look out for me!” “Oh, ah!’ was the mixed exclamation, as all hands rushed from the room, leaving Shorty roaring with laughter. f ‘ But presently Mrs. Lemon poked her head in at the “open door. ' “I want you and your gang to leave my house,” igaid she, sharply. “Didn't think dat wd was goin’to take it wid us, do yer?” demanded Shorty. *“fam certain that any of you are mean enough to take anything.” 2 “Oh, we won't take anything we can’t lift, or dat’s red hot.” E ‘ “There’s been nothing but mischief and strange doings here ever since you came, and I won't stand itany longer. Sotake your bag and baggage, and get out at onca,"” “Look out!” he suddenly exclaimed. ‘ “Ah, that wen’t do; you can’t frighten me again in that way.” “Look out for me!’’ and he threw down the bed- clothes, as if about to leap out upon the floor. The old woman gave one yell; and darted from the room, utterly confused, defeated and broken up. Shorty dressed himself while finishing his laugh, and then started off to join the other fellows who were waiting to hear how the old thing worked. Of course, Mrs, Lemon was glad to get viear of them, although she was somewhat in doubt as to. whether Shorty would attempt to claim damages and “squeeze” her still further.» But she would gladly have forgiven them what they owed her if they only would stay away forever. ‘ Indeed, she was all broken up, and what was more. she wasn’t certain about,that dreadful monkey, and it might be in the house even now, for aught she knew, and so she armed herself and everybody else in the house with all sorts of weapons, and began a | careful search of the premises for the beast that had made so much trouble. Of course she did not find it, and eventually came to the conclusion that it had somehow managed to effect its escape, and then she turned her attention to her cat that Harry Kennedy had caused to talk— or to appear thus gifted. : “T verily believe those rascals bewitched you, poor Tabby. Come here and let me see you,’’ she said, cautiously approaching her, The cat humped her back and rubbed a table leg with herself, “What is the matter with you, puss?” “Meow!’? was her only reply, and she looked up at her in a wild, unnatural sort of a way,which caused her mistress to step back a trifle. , “fam sure they bewitched her, for I heard her talk just as plain as day, and if I don’t kill her, no knowing what may come out of it, Yes, she must be drowned.’” 0 In half an hour afterwards Shorty and Harry Ken- nedy were walking along Main street when they met the colored waiter man, having the doomed cat un- der his arm, with a brick tied to the end of a short, stout cord that was fastened around its neck. “Ah, William! whither away with the feline?” ask- ed Harry. ; ‘Wal, yes, sah; I’s feelin’ rufer bad "bout it, sar- tin,” replied. the darkey, not understanding what was meant by the word “‘feline,”? poodle?” asked “What yer goin’ terdo wid der Shorty, grinning, “Oh, der cat. -Wal, sah, I’s gwine fo’ ter make her commit susunside in de riber.”’ “What! Going to drown that talking cat? I am amazed,” “So am Miss Lemon, sah.” “At what?” “She says, sah, dat de ole eat hab got some ob de ‘ole boy’ in him, an’ she’s ’fraid ob it.” “Must be der cat she’s "fraid of, for I think she wouldn’t run mueh from der ole boy.” “Now that’s too bad, Here, William, here's a half adollar for you. Give me the cat, and tell the ole gal that she’s in the river,” said Harry. - “All right, boss; but don’t you gib me *way.” “No; and don’t you give me away.” “No, sah; I'll keep mum, fo’ if I blowed, she’d bounce me.” Gas “That’s all right, then,” said Harry, taking the cat and hiding her, brick and all, under his overcoat, while the darkey returned home, and,with an honest face, reported the old cat as down among the eels at the bottom of tke river. : : As for Shortyj he had another job to put upon Mrs, Lemon, being no less than hiring alawyer to go and see her, and make it out that unless she fulfilled her original agreement by keeping the gang the fnll time Sab for, namely, another night, that she 7 { would be sued for damages, and all her property attached. f i This frightened her into submission, and she con- sented to receive them back again all right. It was their last night in Saratoga, ahyway, and the next morning the company was to start for Syra- cuse, and so they were all in for having as much fun as possible, while they remained in town. There was a “paying house” to reoeive them that night, and after enjoying about three hours of solid fun, they retired well pleased with the show, and voted Shorty a, brick. Meanwhile Harry Kennedy and Gus Williams had been at work upon the eld cat. Releasing her from the brick which was tied to her neck, they replaced it with what is known on the stage as a ‘ property” brick, that is, somethmg that looks just like a brick, but is made oup of paste- board. These ‘‘ bricks’ are used in various ways on the stage, but mostly in pantomimes, This substitute was so light of course that the cat had no difficulty whatever in dragging it about; and keeping her confined until they were all ready to go to Mrs. Lemon’s when the show was over, they anti- cipated quite a deal of fun, ust before starting, however, Harry gave the old cata good wetting so as to make her look as though she had escaped from the river, and then he placed her under his coat out of sight, where she was glad pnouee to remain very quiet, as she would otherwise e cold. Mrs. Lemon didn’t half Hke it,but rather than have a lawsuit, she concluded to tolerate the company one night longer, and s0 she met them in the parlor when they returned.’ k “ Halloo, ole gal! where’s dat monk?” was Shorty’s careless salutation. : * Yes; trot him out, and Jet’s see him cut up,” saié Gus Williams. ; ‘* Bring out yer menagerie.” “Gentlemen, that monkey was not mine, and I know nothing whatever about it, But I do know that ou have not behaved yourself since you came to my house, and I shall be very glad when you are gone,” said she, tartly. » y “Oh, no, yer won't,” suggested Shorty. ~ “Yes, I will, too, There's been nothing but devil- try going on ever since you came here.” “‘Where’s your cat?” 23 Boerks ‘Alas! Thad to drown her—a dear old cat that I thought the world of, and all becaube some of you put the devil into her.” nc . “Poor Tabby!” they all exclaimed in chorus; and just then Harry imitated her “mew’’ ina most pitiful way, at which everybody started. : , pacodness, me! what was that?’ asked the land- ady. “A cat,” said Shorty; and they all pretended to be very much alarmed. : “William, come here instantly,” she called, after Harry had mewed again, “Quick!? The darkey hurried to the room, . ' “Did you drown that cat?” ~° 4 “Yes, ma’am,” stammered hé, “Are you sure?”’- “Yes, ma’am.”2 ‘ Rieke vit ties Just then there was another mew that sounded di- rectly behind where Mrs. Lemon sat. She turned excitedly around to see what had made the noise, when Harry placed the cat on the floor without be- ing observed. : 2 And asick-looking tabby she was.for being as wet. as a drowned rat, she was terribly ruffled up by be- ing carried under Kennedy's coat, and with a mourn- ful, wail-like mew, she started toward her mistress, dragging the pasteboard brick as she did go, and evi- dently glad to get home again, Perey That guilty darkey started as thongh a mule’s hind legs had grazed his head. Fay “Oh, my golly!” he exclaimed. aa “What is it?” asked Mrs, Lemon, turning sudden- iy. Beholding her cat with the brick still tied to her neck, and evidently Pa from the river, she uttered @ yell that alarmed the house, and jumped upon a chair, frightened half to death. : “What's the matter?” they all asked, seemingly in great surprise, for it was @ part of the job te pre- tend that it was the ghost of her cat,and that it was invisible to them. ; “The cat—the cat!” she exclaimed, pulling her dress close around her skinny shins. “What cat?” they all asked, looking as though they did not see it, 9 ‘“There—there! See it; see the poor thing with that cruel brick tied around its: neck, oh—oi! Tt Youst have escaped from the water and made its way back home again.” ~ The gang looked at each other in surprise. “She’s got ’em,”? said Shorty. : “All broke up,’ suggested Williams “Too bad—too bad!” sighed Shanks. __, “Pussy—pussy—pussy,’’ called the terrified Lemon, ‘ Meow—ow=wow!” chimed the cat. “What’s the matter, madame?” asked Kennedy. “Why, my cat there,’’ said she, pointing. The old feline was licking down its rufiled coat at thig time. : ‘ “T see no cat,” replied he, looking around. : “There—there! look! Oh, take off that cruel brick; the poor—poor thing.” : “Madame, you are excited; there is nota there, What's the matter with you?” , “Oh, she’s got ’em. bad. Better take more water in yer gin,” said Shorty, e pitas that you say? No cat there?” ‘Nary. “Nix. You've got a bad turn of ’em to-night.” “Tf you think you see a cat. it’s probably the ghost of the cat youn murdered,” said Shanks.
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« buied red SHORTY IN SEARCH OF Hi8 DAD. “Good Heaven! ‘suppose it is her ghost?" she cried, in alarm. : oer “Serves you right.’” “Oh, it ¢annot be, William, come here.” She called after her man who had got out into the entry and was ecratching his woolly head in order to think how he should get out of the scrape he was in, He finally concluded, however, to play out the “chost" racket until lie could manage to get her out ot the way again, Se Nl “Yes, marin,” he said, presenting himself. “Take that brick from her neck.” She was still standing in the chair, a perfect pict- ure of fright, not daring to encounter her old pet, ‘Took de brick off who neck?” he asked. ‘Why, off of Tabby’s neck, poor thing. It was not heavy enough to keep her down.” ‘Don’t understand yer, marm,”” “Whati don’t you see that caé there licking her- selff’ she demanded, angrily. “Lick me if I does, marm,” said he, with a grin. This utterly demoralized the old gal, and she real- ly believed that she was standing in the presence of «, feline ghost, ) p “Wuss case I aver seen,” said Shorty. “Dreadfull” said several of the others, As for Mrs. Lemon, she uttered a little scream, and tumbled over out of the ehair on top of Gus, and in the confusion that ensaed, William caught up the cat and ran with it towards the river. The old lady was put te bed and given a glass of hot gin, which she was very fond of, and the gang went up stairs to have their laugh out and to get ready for a start in the morning. ; The darkey was too excited to notice that the brick was any different from the oné he had tied on to tae cat at first, and being anxious to get the job off his hands as quickly as possible, he threw the cat into the river and started back home, But the cat got back almost as soon as he did, and astonished everybody by marching into the house for her breakfast the next morning. : ‘This frightened the darkey almost as muchas his mistress had been the night before, and it took near- ly a week to get thi auleted down: in the house, although it resulted in Tabby’s being allowed to live aud a general understanding all around that they had been badly sold, fooled and joked by that awful little Mee Bhort;. . ay : othing worth recording happened at Syracuse, where they played two nights, after which they went to Rochester for three nights. ' Meantime Shorty was making but little progress in searching for his dad, and as for the line on the bot- tom of his programme, wherein it was announced that he wag in search of ‘his paternal parent, nearly. Srety body sonerdee i¢ asa guy, or one of Shorty’s jokes, ~ ; But he found numbers cf friends if he did not find his dad, for lie was well remembered from his last visit there, and the result was good business anda little barrel of money, From Rochester they went to Buffalo, and. on the carp between the two places Shorty managed to pick up a little fun. : ‘Among the passengers was a very heavy swell of a fop who had been to Kurope, and who Pu on more frills than @ turkey after escaping Thaukseiving. Shorty took his measure at once, as did the other members of the company, and they guyed him most uomercifully, Gus Williams, who leves to get hold of such characters, drew him out, all the while imi- tating his loud yoice and man*er until everybody in the car was laughing, } But his pacticular object was‘soon visible, being nothing more nor less than the “mashing” of Ella Mayo, who sat in a seat on the opposite side of the car, He was determined to show her that he was the mest elegant fellow living, and whenever she _ would smile at some of Gus’ jokes, he would take it ati to himself, and calculate that he was gradually crushing her, ; ‘ : REAR Once or twice during the journéy he got up ont of his seat and went. to the end of the car to view his magnificence in a mirror, and the last time he got up, Shorty, who sat directly behind him, placed four lit- tle pieces of healthy shoemaker’s wax upon the seat he had been sitting on. t y When he returned he planted himself down with a flourish and a killing glance at Ella, .*ho knew noth- ing about the wax, , 04" . But Shorty managed it with Gus in a adaat oh He Was occupying the seat with Miss Mayo, xd Shorty called him to come over, that he wanted t speak to him about some business. , “Take bis nibs over an’ interduce'him ter Ella, an’ ni take hig seat; I wants ter chin yor *bout some- hin’,” said he, : “Certainly. Would you like to change seats with me, Mr. Spoonbill?" asked Gis, addressing the fop, Who was by this time well fastened down. : “Oh, ah, certainly—that is I—if I could have--ah, the pleasure—ah, of ——” he atammered, nat’s ad right, CM introduce you, Come.” Gus started to go to the seat occupied by Ella, and Spoonbill leaped to his feet in ecstasy, “But as he did so there was’a r-r-r-rip,| and he left the seat of his pants on the cushion where he had sat, — - Half bewildered by the occurrence, and not know- ing what else to do, he started for the retiring-roém at the end of the car, all the while pulling frantical- at his bob-tail coat to get it down far enough'to ide the fracture, fe ; RCT He was doomed to further mishap, however, for there was somebody else in there at the moment, and there he was obliged to stand backed up against the door te hide his torrible rent, while everybody ‘in the car was roaring with laughter at the comical sight, But he finally managed to get in out of sight. And ‘mind to get acquainte: he kept out of sight until after the train hadreached Buffalo, and his tormentors and the others who had witnessed hiis humiliation had left the train, after which he called @ ¢ab and was driven to the nearest clothing store. But, oh! could he have got hands on Shorty, how he would have.waltzed him, However, he got a pair of pants that he felt sure were stronger than any wax that-might be brought in contact with them, al- though that which Shorty had was as strong as a mule, and he always had some of it about his person or within his reach, just to take advantage of such oc- casions, Well, of course the company laughed over the fop’s mishap for a long time, although Miss Mayo assured the jokers that their turn would come sooner orlater, and some of the rackets they had played on oshers wonld be played back on them. ‘Dat's'all right. I’ve had as many. played on me as I ever played on oder fellers, an’ 1 ’spect ter get some more afore I find my dad,” said Shorty, thoughtfully, y They were billed to play a weex in Buffalo, and as nearly every member of the company was well- known there, it was only to be supposed that they would do a first-rate business, Shorty and the Kid were in fine feather, and even surpassed, themselves, receiving & wild reception whien they first made their appearance, both being well-known by the boys, who had read so much about them in The Boys me ew York, the paper that con- tained so many of their triumphs and the record of so much of their fun, CHAPTER XV. WE left Shorty with his variety troupe at Buffalo, where they had a warm Welcome, and opened to a splendid house, calculating to remain there a week. But Shorty was not so full of deviltry as he gener- ally was, and it attracted considerable notice among the members of the company, one or two of whorn’ rallied him on it. But he would give them no satisfaction, and turned the matter off with a laugh. : The fact was, however, he was feeling a trifle blue and thoughtful over the prospect of finding his dad. True, he had had lots of fun growing out of the business, but it was really a serivus matter with him, and at the outset he had gone into it in dead earnest, He would take all the fun that came along, and even go out of Lis way to get. it, but he was honestly in éarnest about finding his father, if, possible, so that he might, at least, have the satisfaction of knowing who he was, other than Shorty. “Waal, I think dat de ole bantam’s in love,” said Shorty, Jr., to Gus Williams. “He has got the symptoms,’ he replied, “Got *’em sure. onder who it is?”’ Gus made no further comments on the matter then, but it set him to thinking, and the result was,Shorty received a letter the next day from a lady, which he afterwards permitted mé td copy. It read as fol- lows, and was written upon perfumed paper: “Dar Sin—I have known you by reputation fora number of years, and have often seen you perform '] on the stage, Lhope you will excuse it in a stranger, but I must acknowledge that I amin love with you, ‘Iam alittle bit‘of a woman myself, and my friends often call me ‘Mrs, Shorty.’ (lonly wish I was!) So that now I have pI CUB EQS Anus I bave made up my with you, I hope you will not. consider: me too bold, but this is really the only way I have of doing, since I cannot get a regular in- troduction, . “Now, if you-will call at my house to-night after the performance, I'll bet you will never regret it. _ “Yours truly, “Kars WAxsu, 61 Blank st.” - Shorty cottoned to it right away. It was not his first “nash” by quite a number, but this one seemed to please him very much, and during the remainder aaah day he was as merry aga cricket under a warm rick, ‘Sne gang piped him off onthe “Q.T.,”” and even went so far as to hint that they had’ several love af- fairs on hand. Said Gus Wi!liams: - “Iota letter from a dame to-day, who is dead gone onme. And she’s rich; ridesin her own car- riage, How’s that?” tli { He did not address his remarks to Shorty, but he heard them, just as Gus intended he should. “Oh, well,” said Billy Barny.‘"] guess none of you've got much ahead of mein that line.” yor “Or of me either,” put in Harry Kennedy, phorty was dead sure that none of them had a soft- er thing than he had, and he wanted to say so, but he held off for awhile suntil: their talk and boasting got him worked up, just as they intended it should. “Bah! Who er you duffs feeding taffy to?’ he said, finally, ' “What's the matter?” asked Gus, in well assumed surprise. + - : } . “Smell er that,” and he frourished the perfumed love-létter tinder shis nose, + Gus knew the smell very well. *How’s dat for ‘way up?” Pui it np,” said Gus, “Yon duffs talkin’ bout yer mashes,” *Mashes?"" . “"Yeg, Dere’s a gal, b’longin’ ter one of der fust families of Buffalo, dead gone on me.”* “Oh, come off!” ‘ “What are you giving us?” said they all, to make him believe that they took no stock in his yarn, “Bet yer fifty, ter five I’m givin’ if ter yer straight,” said he, thrusting his hands into his pock- ets, aah “Too thin, old man; too thin," “Make good.” “Show up!”* “React itl’? “Oh, it’s something he has written to himeelt,” said Gus Williams... “An old dodge, that,” ae right, You duffs laugh, but I'm bettin’ that i win, ; “Read it to us.”” “All right; only I won't give away der name an’ address,’’ said he, and he proceeded to read the let- tertothem, ‘‘How’s dat?” he then asked. “Well, I guess it’s so,” said Harry, but the others pretended not to believe it, At all events he felt 80 good that he treated the gang without ever tumbling to it that they had put the job up on him, y ; AS well as he loved mischief himself, and ready az he was to put up rackets. on otliers, he would occa- sionally get taken in quite as nicely as anybody. Well; after the performance that night, he went to a, barber shop and had some of the finest touches put on himself, The gang was watching for him on the opposite side of the street. , ‘he conspirators were already scattered about the vicinity soastoseethefun, — They didn’t have to wait long before they saw the carriage driven, up to the door,. Shorty bounced ous upon the sidewalk, and haading the driver a dollar, dismissed him with a lofty wave of the hand. ; Ee Mouse Wes a handagme pie es engi ona, an horty tripped up the front stoop and gaily rang the bell, A colored servant answered it. mi “Migs Kate Walsh in?” he asked, — ‘Who?’ the darkey asked, in surprise, “Kate Walsh.” . ** No such person heah, sar.” “Hush, Henry, hush! J received a letter from her to-day, asking me to call,”” “ “Don’t know nuffin ?bout dat, sar.’ * “Oh, here, my pretty blonde, I tumble, Here's # stake for yer,” said he, handing him a half dollar, ‘* Now go an’ tell her dat Shorty’s here.” Who I tell?” 4 tee “ Why, der gal, Kate Walsh, of course,” -Just then the boss of the house appeared. He war a big, frowning duffer, and in a loud voice demanded to know what was wanted, : ; The darkey informed him, fen Sey tate “ Got a letter from her ter day,” added Shorty. “Oh, you did, hey?” saidthe man. ~~ “ Ofcoursel.did,” Fae : : “ Well, you dust out of thisin three winks or Pu heave you off the end of my boot,” P © What?” Bi hne ae “ You area sneak thief. Git!” Poor Shorty! He didn’t -have a chance to “ git,” for that big man raised him on the toe of his No. 12°s and he landed like’ a-lobster into'a clump of thorn bushes at the bottom of the stoop, poe ; The thorn bush broke his fall and probably saved him from breaking his neck, but he was “‘all broken up”’ nevertheless, Savalas WAR oa oi Scratched, pricked, bleeding and torn, he got out of that about as lively, as he ever got out of any bad snap, and started towards his hotel, i The conspirators were convulsed with laughter, but followed him at adistance, = “Whew!” he exclaimed, after making cartain that he was far enough away to be safe, ‘ Dat's der big- gest lift that levergot, Ill bet dat it's a job put up by. some. of dem hamfatters on me,” he mused, as he limped along. . ; . cia Fy _ After getting a block or so away, he stopped under a gas-lamp to look at himself.” He wasn't a ** pretty boy,”’ any longer, not by a large majority. His face ¢ ‘ was scratched and bleeding; his glossy hat was mashed and mussed; his clothes torn, and there was such as he might a@ lameness about his whole pods shave had if a mule had been fondling him, Wiping his face, and slicking up the best he couki, he- started for the hotel again, calculating to get in unobserved, \ : But the gang reached there first, and were stand. ing just where he would haye to pass them, although so placed that hecame plump upon them before he saw them, ; ft ; ‘*Halloo!., What’s this?” __ “What has happened, old mant?’* “Why, you’re all broke up,’” they said, all seeming sober and gorry as they crowded around hin. Shorty saw that he was in for it. > “Been to see your mash?’-asked Gus.” 7 “I should say that he’d got’ mashed," said Keane- dy, langhing.. , : : ; ; “Gracious!” i “What an affectionate dame she must be.” “Now, dat’s all right, boys, dat’s all right," sald Shorty, waving bis hand, oat 6 “1 shouldn’t think so by your looks." “Dat's all right, Itell yer,? . « OM pie do is is Pacis your? ’ “No; I went for her,” said he, attempting ¢o smi MTell ns el nbout i”? neg, a “Guess yer know all "bout it now. But it’s all righ tell yer, It'll be my turn next.” Rit BAM, “Well, I should say yon had your turn,” said Billy Barry, at which they all langhed. “Dat’'s a good job, fellers.”* y { “I'll be hanged if Zshould think so.” i . “I mean it’s a Rud job for you duffs, But look out, for me, I’m bad.” _ ; a Ra \ “Yes, you look bad.” td 7 This produced another langh at Shorty’s expense - “Well, I s’pose you duffs want a ball. “Oh, that suits me,"’ said one, “Yes, Im in.” / 4 “Set 'em up."” Shorty led the way into the barroom, awd when /
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. once under the gas lights his appearance provoked ; butI can'tlaugh. Try und see how you can work a jaugh front everybouy present, In fact, when he dot “Liddle German Banud,? Maybe dot will go bet- got a look at himself in one of the large imirrors, he | ter.” couldn't help laughing at the picture. It was a sad but comical transformation, But he braced up the best he could, and set up the beers for the boys until they got eluough, affer which he went to his room. Here he found the kid, Shorty, Jr., who had retired early without knowing anything about the racket that they had worked on the old man, . Shorty wasin hopes the little runt would be asleep, go that he could have a chance to wasli up before he talook athim., But in this he'was also doomed disappoiutment, for the little rascal woke up the moment he entered the room, de ¥ , “Halloo, ole man, what's der matter?” he asked, pitting up in bed aud looking at him with something dike alarm. wee what rning away. ‘ Give it up if yer haven’t been tryin’ ter cut yer *nitials on a mule’s hind hoof,” said the Kid, laugh- inige ie on, yer go fight wid yerself.” “ “Say, did you fight wid yerself?" ” - “Shut upl” said Shorty, going to the yashbowl “Did somebody shoot yer out ofacaniion?” To this he made vo reply, but began to wash him- self into something resembling himself. During this performance, Shorty, Jr. was laughing and tumbling about in bed, but finally he stopped and looked sober again. MG » yer think’s der matter?" he growled, “Bay, what got yer, “Go inter 8 fight.’? > “Who wid?” “A man,’? “Thought it was'a Thomas cat.” “Yer shut up an’ dry up.” “But tell me did yer get away wid him?!” “No; I got away from him,” “Did, hey? Didn’t get rey quick *nough, though, @id yer!” said the laughing Kid. : “No,? said Shorty, uuable himself to keep from Sener “But I'l get hunk, yer bet.” , © it, ; The next move was to get into bed and try and think how it had all happened. He couid only sus- £, howeyer, that the other fellows had put up the on him;and yet he was in no respect in doubt re- garding how the felt, notany. — ; Well it was ‘many a day before Shorty heard the fast of that joke, for the fellows would “gay” about it in their acts on the stage, and in various ways re- minded him of it. | Gus Williams even went so far as to compose a song about it. From Buffalo they went to Niagara Falls for one night, but they didn’t bave much of a house, and were vlad to get away. ‘ Geveland wee the next city, where they had been billed to play a week, and here they met with a splen- id reception, and things looked bright for a lively feason, But Bhorty had it in for that gang of peal? hav- ing by this time become fully convinced that they pus up the job, and that Gus Williams was the leader nite For the time being he gave up the finding of his dad, and devoted his energies to getting square with that band of racketers. Bat how to doit, that was the question, He succeded in pluvinga joke on Gus one night ceo their stayin Cleveland, and it happened in iS WEY foe : Ina traveling company the Jeader 95f the orchescra has charge of all music belonging to the different rformers, and Shorty got hold of that belonging to Gus. and proceeded to doctor it. Cutting off the heading of the music of “Pins and Needles,” he past- ed it over another song, ‘Rock M+ to Sleep, Mother,” and so on with several others, until he had produced one of the greatest mixes ever:'seen’ or listened but bo more “mashes” for him, to. / i Gus was feeling in fine feather that night, and when his turn came he walked boldly out to sing “Pins and Needles.”? when the tnne suddenly chang- ed to the doleful **Rock Me to Sleep, Mother,” -@na was confounded, and so was the audience; alsothe orchestra. Those musicians were ured to + playing the notes placed before then without stop- ing to question, But having played so many times for this vereatile Dutch comedian, and knowing that he never indulged in anything of the Sort they were playing, they somehow teat aware that some- ne was wrong, and stopped. Gus looked at the leader ina half surprised, half comical] sort of way. > tn? inven Misder gorductor, how vas dese dings, ain't This produced a laugh all over the house, during which the musicians eyed their music preparatory trying it again. ~ i ; But it seemed all right, There was the name, and Qus Williams’ name on it, and not a thing seemed out of place, v “Now, once more for der ségars,” said Gus. The leader gave the signs) to begin. | — f “*Ping and Neetles,’”” suid Gus. severely, rast they went on “Rock Me to'Sleep” again. “Hold on, misder gonductoryl dinks me dot you hafe all got der jim-jams,” _ At this the music stopped again, and Gus was get- ting into a rage, The audience, however, regarded ttas regular “business,” always being ready to see anything new and funny by Gua, and they were xeally enjoving it,’ ~ $ So war Shorty, who stood at the wing and laughed at his tormentor’s torment, “Hold on! Dot vas almost too funny for anyding, The conductor gave out the different parts to the musicians while Gus walked impatiently back and forth upon the stage. With this piece of music Shorty had played a more comical change than with the first, for in making it, he had placed a few bars of the right music at the top of the page under the name of “Dot Liddle Ger- mat Band,” so that the orchestra started off all right, aud Gus, greatly relieved, started off with the sone. : But before he had sung two lines the music changed to “Massa’s in the Cold—Cold Ground.” : : Gus stopped in greater astonishment than before, and glared at the leader, who was looking foolish enough to hang hiiiself, and the audience was ap- plauding the “act” as being wonderfully natural, It was altogether too natural to suit Gus, . “Douder und blixen, vot vas der madder mit you all der vile, hey? Guess you dake too many beers before you gome here. Try again.”’ The puzzled leader again gave a signal with his violin bow and off they started once more, as also did Gus. But of course when the change in the mu- sic was reached there was more confusion and an- other laugh, akhough a great many of tliose in front appeared to know that something was wrong, but what it was they could not tell. Shorty and the whole company stood at thé wings watching the performance, “I say, conductor, what’s the matter with you?” Gus asked, after the applause had subsided. “I don’t understand it, but we are playing the notes just as they are written,” said he, - “Ol, that’s all right. It’s a clear case of beer,” said Gus, inan undertone, “Try “Youll never miss the Jager,’”? and once more did that bewildered leader hand out the music to his puzzled musicians, While this was going on, Gus walked to-the wing where Shorty was standing. " “They’re all drunk,” said he, - “Sure yer perfectly sober yerself?" asked Shorty. -“Of course Iam. Did you ever: know me to goon any other way?” he asked, indignantly, *“Dve known yer ter put up jobs.” Just then he got his chord for bis parody on “You'll Never Miss the Water till the Well Buns Dry,” and returned to the stage to sing it. 3 But after going on all right for three or four bars, | the music suddenly changed to “Walking for dat Cake,” aud Gus got wild. , _ “What in tiunder is the matter with you?" he yell- ed, and thistime there was no mistaking about his being mad, ~ Then the audience began to hiss, in the midst of which Gus came to the front. ; “Ladies und chendlemen, dem fiddlers hafe all got off der nut, und so 1 make you von demperance speech like dot Chon B. Gough;” and he proceeded to recite his comical burlesque on the celebrated temperance orators, which effort made a hit. “ While this was going on the leader was vainly try- ing to get his music straightened out, and finally he discovered how the racket had been worked. When Gus was called ont, he handed him one of the “doctorea” sheets of music and called his atten- tion toit. Then he understood it all, and in a com- ical speech, in which he gave a history of Shorty’s Buffalo adventure, he explained how he had prob- ably retaliated on him. This restored good humor, and when Shorty and the Kid came out, as they did right afterward, they received a stunning welconie, the boys giving him three cheers and a tiger from the gallery. ‘They were to do their double banjo act, each with an instrument proportioned to their size, and when they brought their chairs down toward the footlights, tele conical make-up provoked another round of applause. . ‘aking seats, they crossed their legs and began to play. ‘Then there was another roar of laughter, for Shorty had painted on the soles of lis big shoes the words: “Zam looking for my dad/” Tuis was a hit, but before they had been playing long. the Kid stuck up his foot right alongside of the old man’s, and on it was painted the words: ‘‘*7ion’t give it away!” ; ; Then there were thunders of applause, and yet Shorty. knew nothing of the Kid’s doings, and was at a loss to account for the new outbirst. They continued, however, and Shorty made still another hit by singing a song he had made up that afternoon,taking off the tribulations of a well-known Dureh singer who couldin’t make connections with the orchestra, As it was worked, the whole affair was turned into a roaring farce, which the audience enjoyed even better than they would had the original programme been carried out, ~ * But Gus was badly sold, and to make it all the worse for him, the whole thing came’ out in the Cleveland Plaindealer the next morning, so that the laugh, both in public and private, was on the racket- ed Dutchman. ‘ “How’s dat for hunk, Gus?” asked Shorty, when they met the next day. o> “Oh, that was good, as Charley says, it was the ‘proper caper,’ But I got out of it better than you did out of that Buffalo mash,” said Gus, “Dat’s all right: an’ if any of you differs play any more of your stinkers on me, I’ll make yer 80 sick dat yer creditors won’t know yer.” “Good boy; but look out.” ; “Yer’bet,”” “You haven't found your dad yet?” “No; and I guess I won't if I keep wid you hamfat- ters,” “Why not?” 23 --- $$$ rrr ‘asl *“*Causé no respectable man would own ine, seein? der gang I was wid.”” f “Then you have the assurance to suppoge that if you even do find him, that he will be re-pectable? Well, that’s good,” ; And 80 they chaffed each other during t.e remain- der of their stay in Cleveland, where they did a fine business, j Their next stopping-place was Cincingati, where they were to play another week. i CHAPTER XVL Ar the close of their successful week s- Cleveland, where Shorty got even with Gus Wilh«ms for the, joke he played on him at Buffalo, they started for Cincinnati, the great hog mart and Qneen City of the west. ron Here every member of tha compxny was well known, having played inere belo fn various com- binations, and consequently they were well received, As for Shorty himself, every boy mm the ¢ity re- garded himself well acquainted, almost personally known to him, on account of having read of him and his pranks in Tux Boysor New Yorx, and so the mo- ment he came upon the stage, there was one grand hurrah, and the airin the gallery was filled with hats and caps. : , “Three cheers for Shorty!” yelled one of them, and puons cheers were given with a “tiger’’ tied on be- hind, 4 ! Shorty bowed with a comica: flourish that set‘ everybody laughing. way . “Thanks, citizens, thanks. Nothin’ Aoggish "bout dat reception, was der?” he added, addressing those in the Jower portion of the house, “You bet,” said several. , “I's heard dat yer cut up 80 much pork in dis city dat der boys got ‘hoggish’ on ’count of it, De cha: dat told me so was a ‘ham.’ Of course I dec—‘ard’ dat it wasn’t 80, an’ he ‘bristled’ right up at me. Yer see I wouldn’t ‘low him ter ‘pork’ fun at my friends without giving him as ‘seald.’? He grunted an’ said dat maybe I-s’pected ter strike it “fat? here; I told him dat I rather leaned’ dat way, I told him dat he was a ‘bore.’ He said he thought ‘sow’ too.” At this he started suddenly and held up his arm like a shield, as if he eapected: something to ba thrown at him from the gallery, which of course pro- duced an additional laugh, { ; ; “No bouquets, thank yer,” said he, and amid ap lause he seated aitase! » “Dat’s how I ‘pickled? dat am," he added, striking ap a quick rattling piece on his banjo, and then began to sing: ~ “Oh, J’s gwine ober to see my gal, [4 ripping banjo interludes) Ob,myl l’s gwine fo’ to ’scort her iS a brack man's ball, [Banjo as before.) ' - Oh, my gracious! My gal she dances in No. 9's, : {Banjo.] ? h, my! iy , An’ when she gets warm, oh, how she shines, |Banjo.] f : Oh, my ginger! She am de apple core of my eye, {Banjo.] : 1, my eye! _ Gwine fo’ ter marry dat girl bimeby, [Banjo.] Oh, my ginger!™ “Yes, I war a-speakin’ ter a chap de odder da: *bout my tender intentions regardin’ dat charmin' piece ob smoked meat, an’ he said dat he didn’t want ter visit me after [ got married, an’ I axed him why not, an’ he said dat he didn’t want ter be dar when de ‘tied’? came in, Maybe yer isn’t able ter compre- hend de flow ob his remark.. He axed me whatmy ~ ‘speculations war regardin’ de future, an’ I tole hin dat my intended wasa good washer an’ irover, an’ he congratulated me on my bright prospects, an’ said if he could find such 9 gal he’d have an eye on ‘er. Hold on! don’t throw yer bricks yet, for lve got some worse ones,” he added, again looking up and dodging as though he expected to get hit wit! one, . p rf Round after round rewarded him, and then he rat- tled away again on his banjo. © Being recalled, of course, he brought out the Kid, Shorty, Jr., with him, armed also with ‘his fetes and they kept the stage for nearly half an hour with their comical singing, dancing and playing. With the older part of ihe audience Shorty hha a increased object of interest on account of his being in search of his dad, althongh none of them regarded itus other than a joke. He wasa good card before, but this made him even better. i And yet all the while he was getting no nearer the solution of the mystery surrounding his birth thar ever, and sometimes he got very blue over it, though he most always keptit to himself, . 4! Should he ever find his parents, or was ha destined to live-and die without knowing anything about them? R True, be was having all the fun he wanted, but he was not solving the mystery a cent’s worth, and al- thongh he liked fun as wellas a duck likes water, at heart he was almost always thinking about his dad, x “Guess ll have ter go back east again,” said he, to his partner, Shanks, one day dui ng their stay Jn Cincinnati. i , y Shanks opened his eyes, ‘ “Dat is, if wants ter find my dad.” 7 ; *““How sov’?-_ “Don’t see any syrnptoms of der ala rooster out dia “Well, what symptoms did you find of him when we were east?”’ “Oh, I used ter have a racket wid once in a while ‘one, don’t yer know?” ‘
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24 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. = Sl —e = z ane bist ap you Laat is ba sees a axoD, earth: wee ‘ aah black sider Bata he} hepa and looking in the ‘Dat’s makin’ me grey-heade: hanky. Well, will yer take a ‘drop’ now?” glass at his half-blackened mug. | ; “Oh, I pudeestaviden Bat I guess pahillicents across “Kaix I will,’”’ said she, misunderstanding Shorty’s “Ther white wan, of course. Yer don’t think yer one before we get to St. Louis; if not, we'll take a Sey + i bc oames tern OURO oes a pede cower ae asked, indignantly. tack and go east again.’ e was mad as blazes, anyway, but he had to] {‘Well, I. can’t swear ter dat. This was all that rassed between them, but it set | ANEhat Ns [a Spr0 of Mitt at mother an’ son| actorctaphunselt,golewas was all that troubled him, he thought he could ac- | Should have a drop together.” “Yer don’t tell me so.” eek BLK comodate him. 5 peers one a “. 4 peak Me me. He cud sing like a-burd, an’ - . “Wut for? Sure, I’m a dacent woman. ance like a fairy. \ , But that very! night something happened that| «Decentiy full. Will you ‘waltz’ out of here?” ‘An’ his name was O’Hoolerlan, hey?” Ss ? roth on’t understand the new-fangled dances, er right it was, Dennis ooler Paced tout focmeveraLda rat Doutga uae ees but il Big gat nates wpe of Telah ie on reel Hes He Ne man peed i ‘ae Ie Sons The performance had just begun and everybody | as iver ye seen. But I can't waltz.” % “Has he what?” behind the scenes was busy. 4 “Can you take a jig step?” “Chipped in.” Shorty was in his dressing-room, about half dress- “T can.” “How’s that?” == SS \ = —SS=== The scene shifters were running off the flats, so that Shorty, half made up, eagerly pursued by the little old woman and Shorly, Jr., were in full view, eu and only a als blacked up,when a little dump- ling of a fat Irish woman opened the door. How she ever got in at the stage-door nobody seemed to know, but there slie was, and in prowling around she opened Shorty’s door, He happened to be standing back to her at the mo- ment, and didn’t observe her as she stuck her head into the room. But she wasn’t that kind ofa cat to allow anybody to remain in ignorance of her presence. . “Fitloolis Sharty here?’’ she called. ; Yes. Who the devil are you?” he asked, turning suddenly around, ; j “Who am [7 j “ s.?? . i “Sure, that’s a nice way for yees ter be spakin’ ter yer mother.’ “My what?’ “Yor own mother, Bridget O’Hoolerhan,”’ said she, | going into the llttle room, “Git out, . What’er yer givin’ me?” ©The Virgin Mary’s truth,”” “Oh, git out; yer budgy.” “Buggy, is it?” she asked,indignantly, “Sure,there isn’t, a dacinter woman in America norl am, if it’s tne that says it.”” “Well, dat’s all right; but what. brought yer here?” |: iw asked, impatiently. “Me twe futs.” “But how did yer get in at der stage-door?” “Troth, I walked through it.” ‘Well, now turn an’ walk der other way, an’ don’t stop ‘til send yer word.” . “Divil a bit of it,” said she, decidedly, “But what ther blazes der yer want?”’ “Me? tray Mul “Me cheild!” 3 “Go ter der devil. Ther idea of yer bein’ my motb- er. I tells yer dat yer drunk.” “Well, take a running one, and point yerself at der door.” ‘‘Nonsense!”’ ‘Divil a bit of nousense at; all—at all.” “Well, what is it, then?” “Didn't Tread the thing on one of yer bills, that yees war a-lookin’ for yer dad?” “Well, yer aren’t my dad, be yer.”” “No; but I’m sure,that I’m your,mother, so I am.’! Shorty laughed in spite of himself. The idea of that little old Irish woman being his mother, But she appeared to be comical enough to be the mother of half a dozen Shortys. “Well, what makes yer think so, ole gal?” ne ask- ed, finally. ‘ “Sure, wasn’t ye stolen from me by the hathenish gipsies? * said she, ‘Oh, I was, eh?” “Yes, ye war; I knowed ye the minit I set eyes on ye, so I did,”’ “Oh, yer did, eh?” ; “Sure, ’twas ther voice of nater that tould me ye was me long-lost b’y.”” : “Wifere did this stealin’ take place?” ‘In ould Treland.”’ Shorty roared. , COUR, DOW: so it was, bad luck ter the thievin’ eens,’ “How long ago did this little thing occur?” ant years last St. Patrick’s day, when ye war a kid. “Get out wid yer nonsense,” “Ob, sure I know it’s so, I see yer poor father’s looks in yer very face.”’ “Which side looks like der ole man, der white or \ “Has he shuffled off?” “Troth, he could shufiie as well asthe best dancer in Ireland,’ said she, again misunderstanding Shorty’s slang. “IT mean, has he pegged out?” “He was not a shoemaker.” “T mean, is he dead $”’ “He is, Tord rest his sowlin Hiven.” ‘ “Dat’s too bad. Then I'll never see him, eh?” said Shorty, keeping up the chaffing. _. eat conten “No, poor b’y, ye'll niver see him. Oh, he was a» dacint man about me own size,” ; “Yer don’t tellmeso. What made him croak?” - “Made him croak! Sure, I niver heard him do such a thing in me life,” said she, in open-eyed as- tonishment. “What was it dat yanked him out?” : ‘‘Begorra, he was never yanked in his life. He cud foight loike the divil.”” y “He could, hey? Well, what I'm tryin’ ter get at, is, what made him die?” . “Och, is that what he mane? But what a quare way ye have av spakin’, Sure he doid av runnin‘ agin a stick, so he did,”’ said she, frankly. “The devil you say! What sert.of a stick!" “A bit av blackthorn.,”’ “How did it happen?’’ i “Faix, he an’ Tom McCarty were havin’ a bit av 4 ruction, an Tom whacked him on the sconce, bad luck ter him, an’ made a widdy ay me, so he did.”" “So der ole man was a fighter, eh?” ES ee that.” : “Well, have you got through?’ “Through what? : ‘ “Wid yer yarn?” “Mostly.” “Allright, then git out, for I want ter dress,” said he, pPolnE, to the door, “Out! “Yes, Bounce.”
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payee ————eee SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. 23 “Bounce yer poor old mother?” “Oh, give us a rest.” : ‘Ye don’t believe me?” “No, nixey:weezen.’’ 4 “Me name’s not Nancy Weezen. Me name’s Brid- get O’Hoolerhan, an’ I’m twenty years in this coun- try a widdy, sol am.” ‘All right; waltz out.” “Sure J’m yer mother, an’ yer roight name’s Ted- dy O’Hoolerlian,” : “Git out!” roared Shorty, losing what little pa- tience he had left. + ‘An’ I knowed ye the very blessed minit I clapped me eyes on ye.” “Git out!’ “An? afther all ye want ter make believe that I’m | They waited an instant for them to reappear, which they did not do, but while another act of en- tirely different nature, and by different parties, com- menced, the audience was entertained by a great noise behind thescenes, and a number of mixed cries, |” such as: ; “Teddy—Teddy, come ter me!” from the old wom- an, “Lemme be! Git out! Take her away!” from Shorty. “Bounce her!” from Shorty, Jr. “Teddy, darlint! Teddy——” “Fire her out!’ and then a dozen other cries fol- lowed which were so mixed that they could not be understood, and a scuffle took place, during which the yells of the old woman became fainter, and final- i Vay > i pt i ry i body’s shebang,an’ dis one’s mine, only it’s got a low of meat on it yet.” . The audience saw the point of the had seen Mrs, O’Hoolerhan, — “Yer know from der ‘williams’ dat I’s searchin’ for my dad, an’ dis ole hen got it inter her head dat I wanted a mudder, and dat she could fill der bill. She wanted ter kiss my ruby lips, an’ I wouldn’t have it. She got her mad up then, an’ said she’d spank me in der regular mudderly way. Well, der fact is, I'd sooner had her spank me den ter have her visit me wid her kissin’ machine; but’ 1’ thought she was a little fresh, bein’ as how I hadn’t seen her for over thirty years, ’cordin’ ter her own yarn, an’ so I lit out an’ she lit after me, as yer seen. Dat’s all der is aboutit, No collection will be taken: upat der nO eas joke, for they Hi Wit Ni} il it i iy q I i | i nt i Wi They had sung one verse and the chorus when that spring was let off, and both of them shot upward like rockets, and disappeared inthe flies. not yer mother. Och, worra—worra!” and she be- gan_to moan loudly. “Git out!” ; : “Come an’ kiss yer mother,” said she, holding out ber hand to him. . . “Git out an’ go ter der devil!” again roared Shorty, “Come ter yer mother’s arms, Teddy, dear.” “Clear out. Here! somebody come an’ fire ole gal out of my dressing-room,” he called. “They can’t do it! Come to me arms.” “Not if. 1 know myself.” aa Ye shall, too, for yer my own b’y. She started for Shorty, and he began to dodge around the room to avoid her, all the while yelling for somebody to come and put her out. i But she had no notion of being cheated eut of her hug, and fcllowed him closely. Fually he threw a chair in front of her, and she stumbled over it, sprawling and swearing. ' She was up again in an instant, nim. ' “Bad luck ter me if» don’t spank yees for that trick, so I will,” said she, R *Yer'll have ter catch me first,” said he, and see- ing no one around, he started on arun up Stairs to get away from her. f BS: But she was close upon him, and had him by the suspenders,when he made a run across the stage be- hind a scene on which an act had just that moment been finished. F The scene shifters were running off the flats, so that Shorty, half made up, eagerly pursued by the - fittle old) woman and Shorty, Jr., were in ful) view. © A roar of laughter was the result. “*Hould on, Teddy, hould on!’’ the audience heard her yell, and then they disappeared from sight, leay- éng the impression that it was a portion of an act. this however, and after ly died: out altogether as she was fired out of the back oor. . i The interrupted act,which was one of Billy Barry’s, then went on, and while it wasin progress he took occasion to explain it to the audience in his comical way, and they roared with laughter. : But Shorty had no time to spare, for he and the Kid were to do their turn right after that of Billy’s, and so without explaining the matter to anybody, ha} rushed back to his dressing-room to completé his make-up. The Kid told him, however, that Billy Barry had given it away, and although he was mad at first, he got all over it by the time he was ready to go on, and seizing a chair, he.made his appearance with his usual grin, Such a laughing hurrah never greeted him before. He bowed a’ dozen times, and then he and the Kid took turns at bowing, and yet the laugh went on, _Hinally he mounted the back of the chair, and the sae fellow. 8at down in it, and they struck up “‘Baby 4 le + This quieted them, (in a horn,) for they saw how ap- propriate the music was to the whole situation, and laughed all the louder, _ But they soon toned down, and the act went on to itsend. Two recalls where wholly successful, and they were about to retire for the last time, when a dozen voices shouted; “Come back—come back!” “Yes; tell us about your mother,” said another, whereat there was general approval manifested all B over the house, : Shorty then returned slowly stage. “Well, Dil tell yer, but don’t yer give it'away. It’s a family secret. Dey say dere’s a skeleton in every- to the center of the | Well" door ter pay for der extra act. tAppianee ; aroun —and here he paused a moment and look —‘‘what der yer soy?” : ; Thus finishing his story he skipped out, amid cries - of “good boy!” r Son's : The scene changed quickly and Gus Williams walx- ed on to do his Dutch songs. . é “Oh, dot Teddy O’Hoolerhan’s a goot boy. But he fire dot poor mudder out of der pack door, an’ spoil all dot fans {calls dot too pad, for we wanted her ter spank him in der face und eyes of an admiring bublic. Dot only goes ter show how we gets sheat- ed in dis vale of tears, and dot dere’s many a slip be- tween der cup unda rolling stone dot gadhers no mossbunkers. Wid dese few. tearful regreds we will proceed, Misder Conductor,” he added, addressing the leader of the orchestra. “ ; He went through with his songs all right, but he first made sure that Shorty had not tampered with them, as he had on 4 former Oecasion, as the reader will remember. ' ‘ And so the show went along to the bottom of the dill, and at the end of two hours the audience retired, full of pleasant memories and Joud in the praise of everybody, especially Shorty and the Kid; 4 But the moment the curtain went down, the fun and chaffing began behind it, F : “Halloo, Leddy!” said Gus Williams,» ses “Good-evening, Mister O’Hoolerhan,” said Harry Kennedy. ‘ “Allow me to congratulate you on of your parentage,” said Shanks, , 9. - “Ah! Mr. O’Hoolerhan, I believayput in Billy Ary, * “O’Hoolerhan!" exclaimed the Kid, in tones of un- mistakable disgust. rf Wi “Fine old French name, that,” added Gns. © - “Oh, you fellers all go chaw soap,” said Shorty, half. disgusted and half good-naturedly. “How his mammy was going to warm him,’ finding a portion
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26 “What a pity her legs hadn’t been a littlelonger,” suggested Shanks, “New if she had been ‘Shanks’ mare, we aight - pave had some fun.” | : They all turned and looked in astonishment at Ken- aedy, who made the above remark, This was a trick ‘of the gang which they almost always played, when- ever Harry attempted anything in the shape of a joké, and then, without another word,they all march- ed out of the theater, But Mrs, O'Hooleran was waiting for Shorty (or “Yeddy,” as. they called him fora long time after that), and the moment he made his appearance, she went for him, “Ah, ha! Now I have ye, Teddy, darlint,"’ she ex- claimed, catching him up in her arms and attempt- ing to kiss him, but they both tumbled, into the gut ter, where they rolled, fought, yelled and kicked, un- i119 policuman came upon the scene, —_— ¥ ‘CHAPTER XVIL “Janioo, here, what’s this row?’ demanded the policeman, seizing Shorty by, the seat of his pants fund tearing hit from the embrace of Mrs, O'Hooler- an, They were fighting and clawing each other as they rolled over and ever in the gutter in front of the stage door, .The reader, of course, understands who she was and how they happened to be iu this predic- ament, ? ‘ ‘Arrest dat woman!’’ exclaimed Shorty. “No, he won’s, then; he'll arrest yees for batin’ me in the gutter,” said the little old woman, getting upon her feet. | “‘He’s my son, 80 he is, bad manners ter him for batin’ me.” : The officer stood Shorty on his feet. “Dll take you both in,” said he, ' “T say, dop, that's allright,” said Billy Barry,com- ing to the rescue. “Stand back! The first man that interferes with mein the discharge of my duty I will club into mush!” roared the officer, flourishing his club. “But you want to do the square thing, don’t you?” asked Gus Williams. “Yes, I intend to do the square thing all ‘round.”” “Well, you are doing it aH wreng if you arrest m,”’ ct “Yes that old woman attacked him as he was com- ing out of the stage door,” said Shanks, “Shut up, allof you} Iam an officer of the peace. I saw these two fighting here, and it is my duty to Hg them both in,” he roared, “and I intend to do 1 ioe srt i a ety x “But if you saw a robber attack a man, would you take the victim in?” “Yes, Lwould; and if you don’t shut up, I'll take the wholé lot of you in.’ “T say, cop, this ole hen has been after me all der evenin’, an’ we fired her out of der stage door only a little while ago,’’ said Shorty. shee So he did, bad manners ter him, though he is me own——"" the * “Shut up! Come arm , ; He was holding’ Shorty in his grip all the while. ea Bee ae darned fust!” said she, shaking herself . free frou: his grasp. f ; “Go it. ole gal!” yelled Shorty, Jr. “Cheese it!” said Billy Barry.’ E The old woman darted xcross the street, the police- man after her, dragging Shorty along with him, But the old gal was full of fight, and instead of run- ning away, she ctood her ground and put up her hands for a box with him, The gung followed, of couse. “Lemine bel’ yelled Shorty, “Surrender, or I'll club you!” said the officer. “Club an? be darned!” pS He attemped to arrest her again, but in doing 80, he lost his grip on Shorty, who ran down the street as fast as his two legs would carry him, / A crowd had gathered by this time, and, thinking Shorty the most valuable of the two, as most like- ly to pay) well for hig liberty, the officer rau atter mn, , “ But he had Bosiiel AB neD ten steps when Shorty, Sr., throw hiniself between his legs, an’ he went » sprawling npon the sidewalk, while the Kid was up and away before the officer could recover himself. Diterly dazed and bewildered, he started to run in an opposite direction, and the first person he came gpon was Mrs, O’Hoolerhan, anu he at ouce laid vio- lent hands on her, while the other members of the company scattered and got out of harm's way. “ant T have you at all events,” said he, “Have ye, then?” she cried, butting him In the bread basket, and sending him back upon the broad basement of his pantaloons with a “ough!” that might have been heard a block away. Bhe knocked thea wind nearly out.of him, and it was some moments before be could regain his feet, during which sie took leg bail, and got out of that neighborhood, aud the crowd jeered and laughed at the crestfallen and back-fallen policeman to their hearts’ content, ‘ 7% : But somebody had got to be arrested, and in his rage, he seized upon the first one ke could reach af ter teeling sure of his wind, and it happened to bea gober citizen who was passing and simply stopped to see what the row was about, i: “Come along, you Thug, come along! I have got my grippers on you now!" he roared, seizing the man by the coat collar. 5 “But, sir, you have made a mistake," said the un- offending inan, resisting arrest, “Don't you dare to talk back at me, sir. I am an officer, and know my duty.” © along,” he said, seizing her by sf SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. “You don’t know B from a bull’s foot if you arrest me. I was asimple spectator,” “Shut up! T know you. Come along.” “Allright. VII go.” “You'd better, for it’s the healthiest thing you can do,’* said the enraged policeman, “well sea whether it is the healthiest thing for you or not,” replied the man, accompanying fim, “No talk back!” and he flourished his club at the surging crowd which began to follow. r : “You’re an ass!’” yelled sombody, and the general shout-thap followed, was convincing proof that. it was the general opinion. ¢ Buthe was bound to arrest somebody, and the crowd followed to see how the thing would result. It was only a litdle distance to the station-house, and the officer tightened his gripas he neared it, evidently fearing a rescue. Arriving there, he. marched his unresisting pris- oner up before his superior officer. “Why, whatis the meaning, of this??? demanded the officer, looking from the prisoner to the police- man, ; 2 A prisoner, for inciting a riot and preventing the arrest of guilty parties,’ said he, pompously. “ How ia this—do you know thut you have arrested the mayor?” 1 “The whet?” breathed the policeman, growing sud- denly very white, with a weakness in the knees. “How is this your honor?” asked the superior offi- cer, “Well, sir, 1saw a disturbance down back of the: theater, and stopped to'see what it was about,when this booby, whom somebody had knocked down, re- gained his feet and arrested me,” said the mayor, whom everybody now recognized. “Clubber, you are a fool!” ” ; “Yes, too big a one to beon the force. Strip his shield and uniform from him,” said the mayor. “TI beg pardon, sir, I——"’ “You are a fool, but youshall never disgrace our force again.” £ “But I didn’t know it was “Yc makes no difference, you attempted to arrest” “They escaped, sir, and I—~” “You seized the first person you yeu sir.” here are the prisoners met without stop- ping to think or care who or what he was, You are | a disgrace to the fores, sir. Off with bis uniform and puta sensible man in his place,” said the mayor, turning and going from the room, followed by the shouts of those who had assembled there, ~ Was Clubber sick? Y Well, slightly. © i} ‘And it didn’s hurt his feelings a bit to have the offi- cers and citizens tell him that he was an ass ora fool. He had a‘corresponding idea himself. But that ended Shorty’s trouble with Mrs, O’Hool- erhan, for she did not show up after that, evidently concluding, either that she had made a mistake, or that a son who was so hard to be convinced was not worth elgteal | t 4 i Seeah The gang, however, was not disposed to let up on him quite 80 easily. He succeeded in reaching his hotel in-safety, but badly out of breath, andin the course of ten min- utes the other fellows came in,and amid muchJaugh- ter, recounted the ending of the affair, as two or three of them had followed inthe crowd that went to the station-house, It was a comical affair with a comical ending, and they all had a good laugh over it, “Dat serves der duffer right,’ said Shorty. ness but how about your mother?’ asked Ken- nedy, teas your poor old mother?” added Gus Wili- “My poor old grandmother!" put in Shorty, Jr. + Peeks you were hard on her,” said Barry. Oh, dave all right. You duffe wants a brace,” replied Shorty, laughing grimly, “ Of course we don't mind a brace.” ’ “ Oh, no}; we'll brace, if you say 50.” © By all means let us brace.” “Yes, yeril em-brace every offer, I'll bet. Well, der ‘ beers is on Simon” dis time, I guess.” * On Teddy, rather.” “Oh, come along, an’ give dat Teddy snap a rest,” said Shorty, leading the way to the beer fountain, GusWilliaims was always good at impromptu songs and as they stood before the bar he composed, and gang as He made it up, the following, to the tune of “Such an Education has My Mary Aunt’ “Oh, my Shorty, he’s a joker, But he sometimes gets the ‘down.’ You should see him when he’s looking for his dad, ‘He'll’ sometimes treat so humble, Whien he has to take a tumble, Or wien a Biddy claims to be his dad; We saw him in the gutter, We lieard him swear and splutter, When a big policeman raised him like a tad; Whera woman swears that shé’s it, _ You should see old Shorty. cheese it, For he won't lave a petticoated *dad,” Chorus, “He's a darling, he’s a daisy, He’g a dumpling, he’s aclam, You should see him skip, when he gets the tip, Such a runner is our little Teddy man!” - The gang seemed to know what the chorus was to be, and they sang if with a vim that made the bar- room and corridors fing again,‘ Of course a laugh followed. Shorty grinned a hard grin and joined in it, but it was quite evident that he wasn’t half so tickled os he pretended to be. é the “Dat's all right, boys, I’s shoutin’. What'lh yer drown yerselves in?” said he. “ Beer is good enough for me,” said Gus. “Yes, I'll take beer, I’m not proud, if I don’t know where my dad is,” said Billy Barry, and thon they repeated the’chorus. The whole thing ended in uproatious ‘fun, and the next night being the Jast in Cincinnati, the house was packed, for hundreds had heard of i5, through the medium of the Saturday Night, one of the brightest papers in the west, and ediied by one of the most princely, good fellows. Well, from Cincinnati they went to Chicago, where they were also weil known, and where good business presented itself at once, for the ** Adelphia ” was packed the first night, and the satisfaction so good that it was safe to bet on a week of:just such houses, although other companies had been there ahead of them, including ‘Tony Pastor’s, that scarcely paid ex- penses. * But Shanks was always on the look out, and when- ever he saw a chance to make @ hit, he was the man for the oeeasion, oy So after playing three nights with only the ordi- nary amount of advertising, and seeing the third night’s house drop off a little, he want to work to get up a street show and advertising snap that he thought would “stir em up again.”’ Procuring a big wagon with four fine horses, he had it fixed up in flaming style with banners, signs and streamers, and then he required every mats member of the company to dress himself for some part and be ready at.the theater that afternoon, At three o'clock the whole company got into their conveyance and Shorty took the reins, It was rather a stylish turn out, and the boys liked the idea, as it would give them a chance to see 'the city and have some fun. A great crowd gathered to see them start, and the excitement over the novelty of the thing ran high. “Whoa, Eminat’ said Shorty, taking the reins “Be you duffs all ready?” “Yes, let her rip!” said Shanks, “Qiang? i The horses started off handsomely and the corm- any began to show off, some in one way and some in another, all the while throwing out bills of the performance. Y i ‘hree cheers for Shorty!” roared a little fellow on the sidewalk, and the way they were given show- ed that he was a favorite in Chicago, Their course through the ee was the source of much amusement, aud crowds ran after the turn out to get a sight at the renowned Shorty. The house that night showed the wisdom of the movement, for it was packed, and after unpacking veceld went home perfectly satisfied that the had had their money’s worth. Taking it allin ale they never had a better week’s business than they had in the splendid city of Chicago.” And in consideration of this, and in honor of the many good friends they had there, Shorty had the eutire company assemble on the stage for the last pee where a travesty on “Nancy Lee,” arranged by us Williams, was sung as a grand wind-up to the week’s business, i ( { T have a copy of the song as ‘Nancy Lee”’ is still a very the country, I will give some o gave it on that occasion: before me aa t write, anc opus song all over it as the company Of all the towns as e’er you know, Yeo ho! lads! ho! yeo ho—yeo ho} There’s nove that can beat this, I trow, Yeo ho! lads! ho! yeo hol See WE ol sits and claps her hands for you } and me And every. day when we're away she'll watck 0 88; And whisper slow. when othera “blow’? for Shorty, oh, : Yeo ho! lads! ho! yeo hol Chorus. Chicago's hands the actor's life shall be, _. Yeo ho! we go to Milwankee; ‘ Chicago's hands the actor’s lifé shall be, ~~ Chicago’s hands his lifé shall bet Unless a person is acqnainted with the music of this ballad, buta faint ideacan be had by reading the words of what the effect was when sung by a dozen trained voices with all the action thrown in, The effect was electric, and three times three cheers were given at the end of eacli verse, : There are two more verses, but as it would take up too much space I will not give them, - But when the curtain went’ down flually, there were Joud calls for Shorty, and they were so earnest that some notice had to be taken of them, “What shall I say?” he asked, of Qus Williams. “Go out and tell them yourname’s Teddy O'Hoo- lerhan,”’ said he, laughing, ; “Tell em you'd & horse,and can’t be heard,” aus- gested Billy Barry. : “No; tell them you're only one.be a herd,” suz- gested Harry Kennedy, attempting a pun. “Tf soinebody'll choke Kennedy, I'll go ont any- way,” said he, pushing the curtain. aside, aud was- dling before the footligiits, ite A perfect storm of applause greeted hina, “Speechi—speech!" was the call, i “Ladies and gents,” la began, imitating Forrest in his character of Metamora, “‘yer’ve sent for me, an’ I’ve come; it yer don’t want me, I'll goa’ keep my wig warm,’ p “Go it—goit! Good boy!” | “Keep it warm!’ and a dozen other cries greetec him from all sides,
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\ | SSS eee SSS ee “Y don't know what else I can say. I'm like Gus Wiliiame; I’m chuck full—enly mine’s emotion,” A loud laugh greeted this, for he and Gus had had “hits” at each orher several times during the week, while doing their turns, and the crowd saw the point, “Ym very emotioned over yer duckets, an’ the ap- planse yer've siung at me, an’ if St. Louis don’t do as well, I'l tell em ter der teeth dat they haven’t got po many inhabitants as Chicago by ten; and dav'll make ’em sick, | know. Don’t forget us, an’ some- time we'll come back’ an’ give yer some worse jokes den we've given dis time. I'lleven let Harry Ken- nedy say Some funny things for yer, if yer won’s kill him on iny hands. An’ if Gus Witliams gets up a new ke, Pl come right back here an’ Jet him’ say it, if "ma thousand miles away, for I know it would startle der town.” : ' He retired amid laughter and applause, and as Gus was a favorite there, and as it would only be fair to give him a chance to speak for himself, a grand call was made for him, ard he responded. “Ladies and gentlemen; Shorty has got the start of me; but thatis nothing. He gotthe start of a Heemau the other night. (laughter), He is: rather disappointed at not finding his dad. He expected to find him in Cincinnati, but the best of them had been killed and salted down before we arrived there, and he is still looking. But, to ba serious, I thank you from the bottom of my heart for the kind applause you have bestowed upon meduring my stay here, and rest assured that I shall always cherish the many friends | have made in Chicago, wherever my busi- ness may call me.”’ ‘ Applause followed him as he passed out of sight behind the curtain, and the audience left the opera house, laughing, and fully convinced that he was at last even with the little joker who had enjoyed the first “say.” z On their return to their hotel they found a large number of people there with whom they were ail more or less acquainted, and jokes and gibes flew thick and fast as they stood before the bar to *twet”’ their week’s success. : ‘Gus Williams was telling stories, as usual, when a vig Hoosier, at least six feet six, and as large in pro- . portion, reeléd'into the room. He was slightly under the influence of “bug juice,”’ although he seemed to be good-natured. . Yet he was far from being so. He wore a smile, but was looking for a fight. “Whoop!” he yelled. ‘Has anybody got.a five- year-ole boy here? I want ter be licked; I can't fight a cent’s worth, an’ I’m spilin’ ter be licked.” They all turned to look at him, although those in his immediate locality made a hasty change of base, in order to get out of the way, for fear he might | mistake them for “children,’’ and insist upon being “licked,” “My name's Fluff, an’ a mud turtle licked me one day!” Ican’t fight; ic arn't in me, but I want ter be licked. 1don't want ter be pounded all ter pieces, so leallfor a boy. Got one?” “Here's one,” said’a man, pushing Shorty, Jr., to- ward him, “No; he’s too big, He’d break me all up, I want .& boy, a child, an’ if I can’t “get one, I'll ‘have ter take a sick sheep, I arn't a bit bad!” he exclaimed, approaching the bar, and striking it with his/‘heavy fist. : The seine. of his blow upset a tumbler of liquor belonging to a little fellow who stood at the bar, and he at once turned upon him. People who stood near expected to see him get swallowed the first thing, “Guess that must be your dad, Shorty,” whispered Gus. “In—dad it isn’t,” said he. “T say, stranger, you’ve upset my whiskey,” said the little man,. ~ “Oh, did 1? Then it must be spilled, eh?” said the giant, carelessly. - “Well, I should say so.) Are you going to pay for having it filled again?” “Oh, I pay for everything, My name's Fluff, an’ I can’t fight for a cent’s worth,” he roared. “Will you pay for that whiskey?” “Oh, get me down on der floor, an’ cram my head in a spittoon, | I'm meek; I can’t fight’ Mary’s little lamb,” he said, with a swagger, iy The next thing that big buily knew, he was sprawl- ing on the floor and tliat little fellow was on top of him, peering away at his mug as ‘though he was a shoemaker, ; : . He tried to get up, and did some swearing ag tall as he was himself, Bat that little fellow was wo agile for him and kept on top all the time. Presently he cried: i , “Bnouglit’ and with a parting blow the little fel~ low allowed liin: to get up. ? “Will you pay for chat whiskey?” he demanded, “T pays for everythitig: Set ’em np! said he, A derisive shout greeted him as he looked around, “Oh; that’s all right, Ttold yer I couldn’s fight, ANT wanted was ter be licke4.” aloes “Well, nre yonsatisfied? If yon arn’t, Pi take a turn at’ you,” said Shorty, swaggering up to hin with his fists doubled up, ~ ; ? This, of course, created another laugh, for Shorty wasn't much longer than the bully’s legs. 7 “Oh, Vin satisfied, I'm so hog. I know when I've got enough, 1 told yer Icouldn’r fight, “Set "em up for the house, landlord.” , “Give me a pices of him,” said. Shorty, Jr., doub- hing hia little and squaring off at the bully, Another laugh at his expense. “Go for hint" said some one, “You can get away with him, little one!” “Of course I can,” replied the Kid. “Gents, I'm satisfied. I’ve come a hundred miles just ter get licked. I’m happy ter say that I’ve been SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. accommodated. What'll yer have?’’ hefadded, show- ing a roll of bills, “Yer a good talker, but that’s the best I've heard yer squeal ter night. Ill take a bottle,” said Shorty, turning to the barkeeper. ‘Hverybody call for what they want, I'm soaped ter pay,” and pay he had to, for everybody in the place called for the most expensive drink that was to be had, and after paying for them that blower fired himself outand vanished, receiving the grand laugh as he did so. The gang and its friends had a good time that night in Chicago, and it was ‘‘five o'clock in the morning” before they were all in bed, dreaming of the next place they were to visit, Milwaukess, Wis- consin. ‘ CHAPTER XVIIL Tr was not a big leap from Chicago to Milwaukee, but as the show business ran at that time, it was deemed best to do that city next. And go the next day they embarked on the Chicago and Milwaukee railroad, receiving @ lively send-off from about twenty of their personal friends, who had assembled at the depot, including several “pro- fessionals,” who were either there by chance at the time, or were playing at some of the regular thea- ters, Among tiem was Harry Kernell, the celebrated Arish comedian,who was acquainted with every mem- ber of Shorty’s troupe, including the **boss.” “Well, take care of yourself, Col, Gushen,’*said he, reaching down and shaking hands with Shorty. This caused some mérriment, for it will be remem- bered that Col, Goshen is Barnum’s giant. “Allright, Frenchy, Dil try ter: but I’s got a bad gang here,’ replied Shorty, refecring to hig com- any. : “Yes, bold, bad men, all of ’em.” “Bad mien? Bad actors, you mean,” said Harry Be peea “No, U's only got one bad one, an’ he’s a perfumed ventriloquist,” said Shorty. That settled Kennedy,and he retired into the wait- ing car amid a loud laugh, a, “by; remember us to the boys up in Milwau- kee,” said Tony Hart, waving his hand to several of the gang who were already seated,and were looking out of the car windows, ; “All right; ta-tal’” was the reply; and after a final hand shake, the others got on board, and the train soon eteained out of the depot with its merry freight, leaving behind one almost as merry. They had heaps of fun during the passage.and cut all sorts of pranks with each other, although it hap- pened that Harry Kennedy was so seated that he could afford the most, and this is how it happened: The'car was full of mixed people, as all railway cars are, and directly above his head, in one of the bundle-racks, was what looked for all the world like an innocent and ordinary shawl, bound by a travel- ing-strap. arry saw this tucked up there, and at once made hoe mind to have some fun with it by the aid of hig ventriloquism. , So, at the first station where the ears stopped, he began to imitate a crying baby, and making the voice seem to come from the bundle, and as though the babe was half smothered. ‘ , The passengers began to look around tosee where the noise came from, ‘but seeing no’one in the car who had 2 child, they were puzzled to account for it. Finally, just as the train started again, Harry glanced up at the bundle in the pee aelpned a with a troubled look of inquiry on his face, and instantly everybody else looked up, too. But the noise of the train soon drowned the wail of the su sed baby, and so one by Lai anche eit settl Backs into their seats again, although you could tell by the expression on their faces, asi they conversed with each other and either pointed or Jooked toward the suspicious bundle, that they sus- pected that something about it was wrong. z And Harry helped the thing along from time to time, before the next station was»reached, by dcca- sionally Id6oking up, as though listening, or as though he still heard the cry. - But two or three of the “gang"’ had tumbled! al- though they were always ready. forya -ventrildquial racket by Harry; butit soon got noised about among them, so thepivere ready for it by the'time the'next station wus reached, ve Pare: 3 Aud as the speed of the train slackened, and con- sequently the noise, the wail of the supposed child began to be heard again, i ty at Several of the passengers leaped to their feet. There was a rough old hoosier sitting’ next to the aisle in theseat with Harry. but he was sound asleep, and knew nothing of what was going on: . “Say.halloo! _What’s in that bundle up the rack?) shouted one,» 0) ©} Sone 4 iis “It’s a baby!” screamed another, whereat every femalein thecar felt; in duty-bound, to: say: “On, my?’ and then to give a little squeak, “Whose bundle is it 2”. \“Shame—shamne!” | “Take it down!’ “Poor innocent!" > 5 “Call the conductor!” f : “Yes, call the conductor; it’s his duty to look after such thixgs,’’ and oue man made a dive for the next car, where he was supposed to be. ‘ ie Meantime one very officious man, conceiving that the tortured babe bélonged to the sleeping hoosier, seized him roughly by the shoulder and atrempt to arouse himto a sense of his cruelty and sliame, while Harry kept up the crying. s there in ‘ oy The hoosier didn’t arouse to a. sense of shame a, bit’s worth, but he did arouse, however, and quicker than the Hehtning from a mule’s leg, he gave the mans “rousing” bang on the side of his nut, that sent him sprawling over on top of half-a-doazen pas- sengers. “Don’t yer cum fulin’’round me thinkin’ ter rot me, if I am a-snoozin’, or I'll be rank pizen for ye mind that,’’ said he, pee “Shame—shame!”' cried a dozen voices, “Shame—-shame!”’ “Whar for?” “The child.” “The dear babe.” “Babe! Call him a babe?’* alg the babe up there in the rack," said othe- voices. “Oh, git out; yer all drunk or crazy, but don't for get yerselves an’ come playin’ wep of yer tomfoolery *round mé, that’s all,” and again he sank into‘nis sear ane as the train started, and the conductor ap- peared. c The moment he entered the car, nearly everybody in it began shouting to him, and pointing to the sus picious bundle, the noise from which was by thig lime entirely drowned, : Thatindiznant hoosier thought they were pointing and calling attention to him. He was on his feet again in an instant, with a pai~ of-doubled-up fists that were as large ag a shouldes of mutton, : “It's a bed-bug lie, conductor!’ he roared. “No—no!” screamed fifty. “I tell you I was asleep right here ia my seat, when one of them poxy smart sleeks tried to play somarhin) on me, an’ I lammed him; wouldn™ you ; 4 ig Sea “Perhaps so, but what is it [hear about a baby be- ing confined in a bundle up here in the rack?" aske. the conductor, 3 4 “What baby?” he asked, in astonishment, “Yes--yes. You area murderer,” said several. _ Shorty and the gang were taking it all in by thir time, and helping it along. ‘ “I don’t know what in thunder, you mean,” anc the rough old hoosier looked wildly around. “Does that bi ndle belong to you, sir,” the co: - ductor asked of, Kennedy,who seemed even tore ex cited than any of them, but, apparendy, afraid ty touch the bundle into which he had conveyeo sounds, ie 2 ; “No, sir, the bundle was there when I took my see | here,”’ he replied, earnestly. RA The train was making so much noise.thaé the par- sengers gathered eagerly around to listen, “Does jt belong to you?” he asked, of the hoc - sier. ‘ “Me? Du Ilook bike a hoas that makes yer think carry a blanket? No, sir-ee; I’ve got all my fixin on my back an’ in my duds.” » ‘Well, who does it belong tof"* “Shame—shame! the poor little innocent, it may b dying. ‘Take it down!” cried several women, wring- ing their bands in the o!d-fashioned way, (the way AY used to before the invention of wringing ma-. chines.) iki ss Hen Noe ete MN eoeyes!™ from others, encouraged the conduot- or to reach up and take down the rolled shawLiu the shawl strap. pert wes dears chloe a fags ; it was so very light that he hesitated and “hefted* it two or three times by the handles, “There isn’t anything like a baby here,’ he said. dogking, pruned. sy aa ae BS é “Yes, there is} weall heard it’ery.” “To be sure we. did,” said the. ofticions fellow, whe shook the hoosiér’s fist so. suddenly... ; He had Tbh then gotten himself together, ‘To satisfy the clamor, the conductor proceeded to open the bundle, while ‘the crowd pressed closely around, and the women all squealed, so: much synie pathy have they—for otlier folk’s children. Before he gotit fairly unstrapped the train dre up atthe station, ~~). pon But when he came.to unroil the shawl, of course there was no no wailing infant there, and blank as tonishment saddled itself upon everybody's mug, What the dickens did it nean?’!.. ; Out of the center of the bundle the conductor too): a large card, on which was, printed “SLorty's Vari- eties,” in large letters. ea ‘ She. gang understood it, then. The shaw! belong: ed 6 one of the lady periormers.of the troupe whe was seated in another car, and had béen placed there by mistake, ~ ete Ari et ey : And then snch ashout as Shorty and his company sehtup effectually startled the people arouud the stationand in theecar, « .. FS “er Aud yet they couldn’t gét the hang of it altogethe: —what had become of the babe? Pc aleeaditest gt They madeiva theme,of.conversation all the way — to Milwaukee, while the gang Jaiighed amoug theme Selves, or got strangers, Who asked them questions. upon ajl sorts.of strings about the matter, — “Whois this Shorty theyre talking abouc?™ aske: niong, lean, lank westerner, who occupied & oat + front of Shorty and the Kid, - He had turned around to face them, “what! ‘never hearn about Shorty!" “DarnedifeverI did” | _ pe ‘Well, neither did I.” 1 guess it’s only & Joke,”” plied Shorty, indifferently, “> “1 know who he is,” said Shorty, junior, “Who ishe?” 8 Shae be baat You've hearn ‘bout Rarnuns giant?” Oh, yes; seen him last summer”? “web Col. Goshen is Ins summer name wher + travels wid der ‘biggest show on earth,” but Shor. hig winter name when he goes out for himself” “Psnaw! yer don’t say sof” — ue -“Dat’s der Way I whistles it, boss,” replied Guc _r- cen
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. tle sane ab ins Kid, looking 4s sober as a dishonest scaie, “Waal, Iswanny!’” “He’s goin’ ter give a show up ter *waukee, com- mencing to-morrer night. Go see him.” “Don't forget that I will, sonny, for it must be cight Jown funny,”’ said the’ westerner, “Yes, right wp and down funny. Want yer buttons sewed on with India rubber thread, or yer’ll bust chem off.” “Great snakes! yer don’t say so. yerself?”” “Oh, several times!” “By hokey, I’ll take if in!” x That settled him, and he proceeded to tell the dis- Soren, to.a friend of his, who occupied a seat in front ©: im, . A . So, taking it all in, the joke not only afforded them all the fun they wanted for the ,time being, but proved a first-class advertisement as well. In fact, @n account of the jokes of Shorty and his company, there never had to be half the advertising done that other cont panics were obliged to do, because so many of their jokes and rackets got into the papers. But even when the train arrived at Milwaukee those Passeneers were stillin doubt-and anxiety, al- though the conductor had tumbled to it, on account of the owner of the shawl having inquired of him about it, and he in turn making several inquiries, which resuited about the same as giving the joke away. : Well, their first night in Milwaukee was signalized by a pretty good house, although “Dar’s room fo’ many mo’,” as Shorty said, when he looked through the peep-hole in the curtain. But those who were there went away In the best of apirits and fully satisfied, The next day, however, the story of the baby in the shawl, as told by the conduetor—who enjoyed it as much as anybody—was published in the Sentinel, and created a ripple of merriment all over town,so that the house was packed in every part the second night. In Milwankee there isa branch of “The Societ: for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children,” and it has given sevéral companies of showmen much trou- ble by le managers for employing chil- dren in their shows. ea). t s Gus Williams and Billy Barry thought they could have some fun at their expense, and so wrote a letter co the president (signed with a fictitious name) in- forming him that Shorty was only a child, and that the acts which his manager, Shanks, had forced him into, had not only stunted his growth, but had caused him to become prematurely old; and called pon him in’ the name of humanity to -arrest this cruel manager and this tortured boy, and let justice «done, though the heavens fall. That was enough, The seciety hadn’t had a case a: a long while,and people were laughing and asking whatit was good for, anyhow, So that pompous vresident sent an officer to the hotel the next day, iad dragged the two culprits before a police justice, although what the devil it all meant, unless it was a i Ade which they strongly suspected, they could not alts : ordre] . Court was instantly convened, and the ‘tortured RY? laced before it for examination. When the complaint was read they*both understood it,and had « good laugh to themselves over the matter, But it was no laughing matter to that president. Every member of the company was present inthe court-rdom, as well asa hundred other curious spec- fators, all anxious to see how the cage of cruelty to children would turn out. Shorty was called before the judge. An officer of the court placed a chair for him to stand up on s0 that he and the judge could sea each other. if aN you the person known as Shorty?” asked the judge, *‘Dat’s me, judge.” “What is your real name?” “Shorty, fust, Jast an” always, judge.” “Have you no other name?” “None dat L know on; butI’s tryin’ ter find my dad now, ter seeif Ihave another. Why—what’s der matter, judge?” “Flow old are you?” “* *Bout forty.” 2 “What?” exclaimed tke court. “Qan°t tell ter a day or two, jedge, for 'was found an’ don’t. know how ole I was then. But as near asi can make it, I’s near forty.” “How long have you been on the stage?” Bout twenty years,” ‘That president was beginning to look sick. “Why, jedge, der yer see dat kid over dere? He’s “my kid; he’s Shorty, junior,” said he, laughing, “Well, Iam astonished,” said the court, leaning back and laughing. “Guess yer Will be, if yer take me fer a chicken; why, I’s been all over der world.” “What linve you to say about this?” asked the sourt, turning to the sick “President of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children,” **|—I—well, your honor, I wasn’t aware of his age; but I received a letter from some of our citizens, stating that he was child, and was being cruelly freated,?? ; A loud Jaugh followed this announcement, which the court joined in, even while rapping with its authoritative gravel for order, and it made that presi- dent even sicker yet, which Shorty and Shanks bath enjoyed hngeiy, — age ; “Nr, Shanks, you are discharged,” said the judge, waving his hand, “and,” he added, turning to the president, “be good enough to investigate your cases Apes before you bring them before me here- after, : (@The sick president bowed, grinned, and sloped. y Ever seen him ‘‘Jedge, come an’ see me ter-night,”’ said Shorty, handing him half a dozen tickets. “Thank you, I will do so, and 1 am sorry that this stupid piece of business should have ever taken place,” replied the judge. “Oh, dat’s all right, jedge, I’se used ter it. Iwas scooped in once before in New York, an’ once in Bos- ton, “Indeed.” “Yes, but they dropped me.” “J guess they would have to,” said the judge. This settled the business, and after thanking the judge again, the gang teok its departure. But both Shorty and Shanks suspected that the job had been put up by some of the company, and they, of course, resolved to find out who it was. yj But there was a\grand laugh over it, and while the public was enjoying the fun they all made on the stage, they in turn were enjoying fun which they ex- tracted from the public. That night there was another good house, and Shorty had prepared himself for extra fuh, knowing that a great many who would visit the show had heard of the arrest. Nearly every one of the performers during their acts had something to say about the ‘abused child,” and a shot or two at the President of the Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Children. Every one of these shots told, and what made them more effectual was, the president himself was pres- ent, trying to enjoy the performance. ‘ Finally when Shorty and the Kid came out for the first of their acts, there was a perfect roar of ap- plause to greet them. ; | On this occasion tkeir first part was a song and dance, blacked, Shorty would play the banjo for the Kid-—whom he pretended he was trying to learn the art of dancing—to dance, and then obey would have a wrangle, and the Kid would take the banjo and play for Shorty to shake ’er down. It wasa very pretty and comical act, the way they played it, and always brought down the house, and on their recall they performed a banjo duet, the Kid on his little and Shorty on his larger banjo, and this was a snap which always took. ‘ But the third call Shorty came out alone, as he usually did, for he generally had more or less chaff with the audience which he could get better along witb alone. : He came out with his old, but good, banjo, drag- ging a chair along behind him. “I say, aren’t this a nice way ter treat a poor over- worked boy, hey, what der yer say? Bimeby der president for der prevention of making big fools of demselves will be after you,” This shot also bit the bull’s-eye. Shorty sat down and began to rattle away on his banjo, and he knocked music out of it by the sqaare yard for about two minutes, when he gradually came down to an accompaniment and started to sing: “A ‘president’ there was in Milwaukee, Who was ever so ‘fresh’ and so talky, We gave hima ‘raise’ | * ~ For the rest of his days, This ‘president’ fresh of Milwaukee.” “Good—good! Give us some more!’’ came from all over the theater. “Nix; we'll give der duffer a rest now,” said Shorty, still playing away on his banjo, And then he struck another verse: “There was a sweet youth from Chicago, Who spent all his time playing banco, But der cops wasn’t fooled, And at Jast he got ‘pulled,’ : And they ‘sent up’ this lad from Chicago.” As this had direct allusion to an actual occurrence a few days before in Milwaukee, it took, and brought, down the house. “Now I don’t mind telling you this: I once knew a man in Spt. Louis, He would ‘hang’ every drink— Now what der yer think? They hung up this man from St, Louis. “There was an old Mick in Detroit, Who used to steal hens every ‘noight,’ But they gave him a boost, Where the State keeps a ‘roost? For such as this Mick from Detroit, “1° say der’s a town I was once in, Dat’s in der State of Wisconsin, Where allus yer fun Pans out ton for ton, In dis town of Milwaukee, Wisconsin.” A fresh outburst greeted him as he finished this extempore song. and after he had retired there was another call, which he reluctantly responded to—for by this time he was tired—and made them a ‘little speceh as the finisher to the evening’s entertain- ment, ; by “Ladies and gents:—I haven’t had s9 much fun since I had my tooth pulled, but I's {*? as much peliged ter yer as if yer’d pulled everyisish-maker an’ bean-breaker in my head. Lhope yér'll have a chance sometime ter pull some more of ’em in der same way; until then, be good ter yerselves. Also be good ter der babies, and believe yours truly, Shorty,” said he, kissing his hand, and retiring amid applause, CHAPTER XIX, Frou Milwaukee, Shorty and his company went to Dubuque, Davenport, Burlington, Springfield, Quin- ey, and so on southward to St. Louis, where they were billed to play Christmas week at De Bar’s Opera House. Atthe most of these places they had only played for a night or two, and as the weather was very cold, there was but little disposition manifested on the part of our friends to indulge in any rackets, their time being fully occupied in attending to business and in keeping warm. j i. In this latter part they. were not all entirely sue- cessful, as several of them got portions of their an- atomy frost-bitten. Gus Williams had his nuse frozen, and Harry Kennedy had the upper section of his ears bitten pretty badly. These little mishaps—these kind attentions of Jack Frost—crented considerable amusement for the party, although not much, if any, for the fellows who were “bitten.” Shorty was especially uproar- ious and full of fun, “Dat’s all right, Kennedy,” said he, *ford ter lose der upper partof yer ears.” “T can?’’ exclaimed the ventriloquist. “Yes, for den you’ll have bigger ones den any oder performer’s got,”? ; : “But only think how he'll miss ’em in the summer time,” suggested Billy Barry. “How so"! j “He can’s fan himself with em any more,” This produced a loud laugh at Kennedy’s expense, and he acknowledged the corn, : “But how about Gus Williams’ nose?” t “Oh, he knows all about that,” said Kennedy. “Shoot him!’’ cried half a dozen, ? “Brain him!” ef “Oh, we can't do that.” | i). # “Why not? Such a pun merits it.” “Dat’s so, but we ain't got no microscope here ter see how tec doit,” said Shorty. ., , ; ““‘Har—ear!"’ said Gus, * diy “Well, there’s one. thing sure, Gus, Jack Frost did more for your nose than all the temperance societies in the land could do,”’ ; “How so?" ; ‘ “He bleached it out white for once.” “Dat’s so. No wonder we didn’t know him when he came ter der theater,” [ 8 “And only think how much it cost to color that bu- gle,”’ said Billy Barry. ‘ “What ashame it was, It’ll take his salary for the next six months. to recolor it again,” said Shanks, looking sorrowful. \ “Well, Shanks, cold will never get the best of you that’s certain,” said Gus, “How’s that?” t “Because whiskey won’t freeze.” Laugh on Shanks. * And so they chaffed each other until they reached St. Louis, where they found warmer weather and grand Preparations being made for the holidays. Shorty. in the meantime, had gotten up a short pantomime that would play about an hour, with which to conclude the evening’s entertainment, and Sep oly. for the holidays. , he name of this pantomime was “Grist to Mill,” and with the assistance of scenery, tricks and ma- chinery at the opera house, and which were once used by the celebrated clown, G, L. Fox, everything was got into working order with the loss of only two days and three rehearsals. Z OF£ course they had to employ some other actorsin, order to play the piece, but there were any number of them ready to go on, and not the slightest trouble was met with in any respect. ‘ A new feature of the pantomime, however, and wherein it differed from most others, was the fact that there were two clowns, and they were to be played by Shorty and Shorty, Jr. Tt was new business to them both, but they felt equal to it, and certainly the public was ready to be- lieve them capable of doing almost anything in the shape of comic acting, r Nor did they make any mistake, The house was packed the first night, and the main features of the regular performance were given with more than the usual gusto, and the audience ~ was delighted, so that bythe time the pantomime was reached on the programme, it was in good con- dition to receive it, ’ The curtain went up on ascene where the ladsand lassies of the village were having a dance on the green, and aright merry time they had of it. The two Shortys, dfessed as clowns, or twin spirits of mischief, took part in the affair and made all sorts of fun, dancing, athletic feats and tricks on the others, ) Then came in the old farmer, a savage-looking old rooster who drives the villagers away and orders the two clowhs to take the bag of wheat, place it ona wheelbarrow, and take it to mill. t 5 This, of course, is all done in pantomime, or dumb shows, and then the fun commenced, i The two little clowns tried and tried to lift the bag upon the barrow, but could not budge it. Then the old man knocks them o¥er and attempts to place it on the barrow himself, but as he stoops over to do. 0, Shorty takes a ‘double stick” and hits him a tre- mendous blow on his most prominent part and in- stantly throws the stick over to the Kid. The old fellow leaps into the air and turns indig- nantly upon Shorty, but that individnal is looking aa honest asa goat. So the old fellow only shakes his fist at him, and attempts again to lift the grist upon the barrow, Aye s i This time Shorty. Jr., goes for him with the stick, which he quickly Weck: over to Shorty again, and so. they torment the life out of the old fellow until he finally lifts the grist and is, tottering with it toward the barrow, when Shorty trips him up, and he falls, bag and all, on top of therbarrow, which instantly goes all to pieces, and the two clowns whale him un- mercifully. ‘Yer can.
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF Hrs DAD. Winally he recovers himself, and after a dea} of in- dignation and attempted punishment, they all three get to work to mend the barrow, Shorty brings in’an ax and a big cross-cut saw. The Kid brings in halfa dozen tools, nohe of which can be used in the repairing, and the old fellow is highly enraged, and ali the while calling for some- thin } But they keep bringing in things until they have a blacksmith’s shop in working erder, and then he be- gins to mend the barrow. They play all sorts of tricks on him while he is at work. /He pounds his fingers and yells, and Shorty pretends to be so scared that he drops a big hammer on his toe, and then he dances around in anguish with the little joker laugh- ing at him, Once more he attempts to mend it, Gets it almost together, when Shorty manages to tumble it all down again, and while the old fellow isin great perplexity, Shorty, Jr., comes in leading a donkey, Hieppy. thought! He will let the wheelbarrow go and use the donkey. He aaanipts to place the grist upon the back of the denkey, when Shorty pricks him with a pin, causing him to start, and the old man falls upon the grist on the ground. ‘This fun is kept up for some time, until finally he gets the grist upon the donkey’s back, and leads him off in triumph, Shorty perched on top of the bag. | The next scene is at the farmer’s house, where a oung fellew is persuading his daughter to elope with jm, seeing that her father is away. They fly. Then comes a scene'at the mill when the grist in be- ing ground, and the clowns cut up all sorts of mis- chief with both farmer and miller, during which the loyer comes and steals the donkey that is tied in sei of the mill, and he and his girl escape on its back. Then the farmer comes out and is in great tribula- tion, and says that the two boys must carry the flour home themselves. He has the miller place it in two different sacks so they can carry it, while he inti- mates that he must himself carry a large basket con- taining something else. The basket is brought out. It is a large one with double flap covers, He sets it down, and goes out for something. The clowns place their bags of flour in the basket, and then get in themselves and let down the covers, ° : The old man comes in, and not seeing them, ex- presses his delight that they got caught in their own trap, and had to carry the flour home on their backs, after which he lifts the basket with difficulty, an staggers toward home, where he arrives in the next scene puffing and sweating, when out pop the two clowns and the trick is seen, z ‘ Then followed a lot of complications, during which the daughter returns married, and any number of mishaps surround the perplexed father; until at last, everything turns out lovely; especially for the two little clowns. | eisiod ; Of course, it would be almost impossible to give the whole pantomime, but it made a hit, and kept the audience upon a roar from first to last, and Shorty added another plume to his leather duster—that of pantomime clown. y - The members of the company were loud in their congratulations, and as business remained tip top to the very last, it was arranged to remain there an- other week'with a slight change of bill. k And a right royal good time did they have there in St. Louis, for it ie yne of the best places in thi world to have a good time in, andif @ man cannot enjoy himself there, there is no hope for him anywhere. At all events, there could be no doubt but that Shanks was happy there, for good business always made him as marry as a bird. During the last week there, several members of the company noticed that Harry Kennedy wasin aee thought, and evidently had something on his mind, Some of them suspected he vas struggling witha new joke, and while a few wished to strangle him be- fore its birth, others thought he ought to have a chance to get it off, lest it might kill] him, unborn. Finally it came. The gang was expecting it, and stoodready. ~ ¥ He produced it in this way: “T fear these little clowns will spoil the business, even though they are as good as Fox,” said he. Not a word was said or a question asked, In fact, they only looked at him ina dazed sort of way, as though at.a loss to know what he was driving at. He waited a moment, , “Little Fones spoil the vines, you know,” he added, and then laughed. They were standing in. the bar-room of the hotel at the time, and, without saying & word, they shook hands in the most. solemn manner with each other, and walked away, leaving Kennedy there alone, Thus was his joke strangled at its birth—that is, if it could be called/a joke. At all events, he evidently thought it was one, and mentally swore never to laugh again at anything that any of them might say. He went sadly to his room, and began to talk with his dummies, “Pete” and “Joe,” for the sake of company, He could tell them all the okes he want- é to, and they were bound to laugh, or he was bound to make them. t , , The gang laughed afterwards. Shorty had some fun with an old fellow who board- ed at the Lindell House, where he did, aes it turned out, it was worth about fifty old-fas! jioned temperance lectures. ‘This old fellow's name was Grimes,and he belonged to a good family; in fact, hada good family of his own, but.of late he had got to drinking too much, and threatened nos only to run through with his heajth, but his money as well. ‘His wife and daughters, as wellas a brother, had ‘been to see him frequently, to see if they couldn’t get him to brace up, get himself together and stop his drinking. But ali to no purpose. He loved his “‘budge”’ better than anything else. Shorty and several members of the troupe had made his aequaintance during their stay, and seeing how nicé a,.man he was naturally, felt sorry for him, “Til bet a ‘bot.” that I can cure him,” said Shorty, one afternoon after the servants had assisted him up to his room, chuck full. “Yes, I guess you can—if you cut his head off;” suggested Kennedy. “No, 1 won’t cut off nothin’.”” ‘Won't cut off his whiskey?” asked Shanks. “No, I don’t say that. But his room’s right. next ter mine, an’ I’m goin’ ter try it on this very night,” said Shorty, seriously, “Try what on; his room?” This was Kennedy. You see he would have his lit- tle joke, atall events. “Hush!” “JT woula if I were you,” he added. “Why would you?’ asked Gus. : “I should prefer trying on his room—because his room is better than his company. See?’’ They all groaned, and Kennedy retired. Well, that night Shorty dressed himself up in his monkey suit and Stole into the old fellow’s room, having first arranged matters with the servant who was taking care of him. He was restless, and would every now and then call for another drink of whiskey. Shorty perched himself on the foot of the bed- stead, whilé the servant spoke for the first time and asked him what he wanted, “Whiskey—whiskey! Give me whiskey!” said the poor man, pathetically. ‘Don’t you think you have had enough, sir?” “Enough!” r , And he opened his eyes to look at the presumptuous servant. 2 s As he did so he caught sight of Shorty, and let go a scream, “What is the matter, sir?” “See there!” he exclaimed, key perched on the footboard, “What is it?” and the servant looked around as though he could not see anything, “See, Don’t you see an thing?” “Nothing unusual, sir. Why?” : “Don’t yousee a big monkey, there?” “No, sir, Alas, I feared it would come to this,” “You don’t. see anything? There—there, see it move. Ah, drive it away!” And he'struck at it with his hands, after which he pulled the clothes up over his head. Shorty léaped down and ran to his own room with- out being seen, : The servant talked with the poor victim, and final- ly got him to uncover his head. “Has it gone?” he asked, looking wildly around. “T guess there is nothing here, sir.” “Oh, 1am certain that [saw a monkey.” “I think not, sir; it was only the effects of your dis- torted imagination.” The old man remained thoughtful and silent for a few moments. He evidently thought he ‘thad ’em.” “Well, I guess you are right. I have had enough.” “You certainly have, sir,” : “That’s So. If I begin to see such things as that perched on my bed, it istime I stopped. I'll brace up and go home to ny family.” And he did, for a more thoroughly frightened man than he was it would be hard to find. The joke leaked out, however, after he had left the hotel and gone home, and Shorty was from that time forth, during his stay in St. Louis, known as the Great Temperance yeh. : In fact, several of his friends went so far as to present him with a diploma, creating him an honor- ary member of a temperance society, “Oh, dat’s all right for you dufts, but I never ‘spect ter work on any of you dat way,” said he, at their chaffing. ‘ “Why not?” asked someone. i : “Because yer soaked so much dat nuffin’ smaller’n an elephant would frighten yer.” “Guess then it would depend a good deal on what he had in his trunk,” suggested Kennedy. “Tf he had a bottle of whiskey in it he’d never frighten you, that’s sure,’’ said Gus. “T think I shal! ‘William’ Shorty after this as the great temperance apostle,” said Shanks. “I thinkit would tuke.”’ _ “Oh, Shorty always ‘takes,’ when he’s asked.” “Well, I's goin’ ter ask you duffs all ter take some- thin’ now,” said Shorty. “All right,’ said several, . “I’m goin’ ter ask yer all ter take der pledge.” “T ee said Kennedy. “Well, dat’s der first time dat J ever know’d yer ter refuse ter take anythin’ when yer's asked.” “Oh, we'll all take it if you will,” said Barry. “It would be money in my pocket, but IT wouldn’t have any fun. No, you duffs sign der pledge, an’ I'll be a frightful example for yer, ter keep yer steady.” While they were chaffing each other in this way, an old colored man approached Shorty, hat in hand, and in a most respectful manner. But there was a grin on his mug big enough to hide a cval-hod in, “Another case of ‘dad,’ I_guess,” suggested Gus Williams, speaking to Billy Barry. “Guess so. Never saw a chap have so many kinds of parents as he has, I expect when we get to San Francisco that he will finda dad there with a pig- tail,” replied Billy. “It would be cuerions if he did,” said Kennedy, ‘and thereby would hang a tail. See?” ‘Harry, what will you take to commit suicide?’ asked Gus. pointing at the mon- “Well, I could take arsenic, I suppose." “T Wish to Heaven you would.” ‘You tiiean you wish I would ‘chop stick,’ if ] catch your idea,"’ 1 “T don’t care if you chop your head off.” “Then I should be like a great musical composer,” “Who?” “Chopin.” “Ah ad . “And if I should be cut down like grass, then I \ should be like still another great composer." ee “Who?” ; “Hay—den.” : “Strangle him!” eried Billy Barry. “When is & cat’s tail like another great composer?” - “Give it up.’” “When she’s Wag—ner.” “Got your gun with you, Billy?” asked Gus, “Certainly, but I haven't got the strength to shoot.” , 8 “Give it to me, 1’ll——’” But that bad. punster had skipped before death could overtake him. Meanwhile the old darkey had come to the frent fora little chin. of : “‘Am you Massa Shorter?” he asked. “Yes, bones, I'am der hamfatter,” said Shorty, thrusting his thumbs into the armholes of his vest and strutting back and forth, a favorite trick of his, ‘ “Waal, boss, I hearn tell as how you war a@ black Oy. : “Solam, sometimes, What yer want?” “Boss, sa poorman. Sois my wife.” “Which one wears the breeches?’’ “Boss, she can’t wear um if she want ter, fo’ she’s *bout big’s two like me,” said he, with a grin as big as his head. Fimie % “Well, what yer whistlin’ for?” “Boss, I’s hearn heap "bout you, an’ all de coons in St. Looy sat dat you takes de cake. Now I can't 'ford ter pay, an‘so I comed fo’ ter see if I couldn't work mny way in somehow;.me’n de ole woman," “Want ter come real bad?” “Right smart, boss, much "bliged, right smart. 1. wants ter see yer, an’ so do de ole woman, an’ ’sides, we jus’ want ter show dem udder coons dat we arn't no slouches,’’ 7 aa “All right. Here’s a couple of tickets,"’ said Shorty, handing them tohim. - “Bress de Lord, boss, dat I fin’ yer. Me'n de ole woman "ll shout glory all da way dar an’ back. We will fo’ shuah,”’ ; “Allright. Go in an’ show yergelf.” “Boss; yer’ know dat we’s dar—yer'll know dat we’s dar!” he exclaimed, and rushing out with tke tickets, he hniled his ‘told woman,” i “Look dar, honey, look dar!” and he held them up for her to look at, ( ‘“Wha’ dat—wha’ dat you say, Moses?”" “Tickets fo’ de show ter-night, pansy “Oh, bress de Lord, Moses, Pll go right home an’ make up snoots at dat stuck-up wench, Mrs, Josephus Jonsing, see if I don’t.” . : 4 “All right, honey, spread yerself, fo’ dem tickets comed right from Boss Shorter heself,’’ and away they started for home. : * ‘Ten minutés afterwards Shorty had forgotten the affair, it was such a common one with him, ‘and he went on in his usual way, having all the fun he could pick up, and arranging with his partner Shanks about future business. % “: But thac night he had occasion to remember the two black deadheads whom he had favored, ‘for he soon found that they were attracting almost as much notice as any meinber of company was. . They were laughing at everything, and doing it so loud that they gave nobody else a chance to laugh, and the way they would slap their hands and fling them around was cautionary signals to those who sat very near to them, “y eae when Shorty came out, blacked up, they fairly yelled, i “Dar he am, honey! Daram Shorter; dar am de boss dat gub me de tickets!” J _“Bress de Lord!” exclainied the old woman, who somehow appeared to think that she was in a camyr meeting or something of the kind. “Somebody tickle dem coons wid a straw an" see if yer can’t make ’em laugh. Don’t like ter see em so quiet,” said Shorty, looking up atthem, ~~ This produced general laughter, but those tickléd coons outlaughed them all, It was a big thing for them, and a loud thing for everybody. else. | But Shorty enjoyed it and sailed in heavy on his banjo. CHAPTER XX. From St. Louis Shorty and his company went to Kansas City, where they billed to play for three nights, . : > They were having lots‘of fun and making’ a ‘bar’! o’ money.” As for the fun, Shorty,-of course, was getting hisshare of it, forhe was “that kind of a eat,” but to tell the truth, there wasn’t oneof the gang but was having a first-class time all around, But it was in Kansas City that something happen- ed which changed everything, so faras the ronte was concerned, and hurried them on towards San Francisco socner by two months than they had orig- inally intended. : Shorty took up the Kansas City. Herald the next: morning after their opening there, for the purpose of seeing what it had to sa regarding the show, and after reading & very complimentary. notice relating to it, he naturally ran his eye ower the news and in- teresting articles. y (ay ete ‘ i He had not read many minutes before his atten- tiou was attracted to the following, from a corre- spondent to that paper in San Francisco;
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- au ‘TRpideasA ee Sones le a ea aceaae “A Queer Littix Herr, “There is living on the outskirts of Oakland quite.a fuman curiosity, in the person of a dwarf hermit. Bis name is Burwick, and lie is evidently about sixty yearsof age, although beyond what people havea mind to conjecture there is but little known in rela- tion to him, He lives in a smail stone house entirely atone, so faras human association is concerned, al- thongh he has three ferocious dogs who guard him with jealous care. “Be has hved in his present abode about ten veers, out itis known that he has been in various parts o California for twenty-five or thirty years, and is snp- posed to be possessed of considerable wealth. Who ae is or from where he came originally is not known, although he speaks English, when he speaks at all, and is thought to have come from some of the east- ern states. Whether his voluntary withdrawal from adl but canine society ison account of some secret sorrow,or whether it ison account of liis physical pe- ealiarities, ia also a matter of conjecture, At all events, he lives alone by himself, and is not seen in the streets of Oakland oftener than once per mouth, and very seldom goes out to San Francisco, Of cotirse, all sorts of stories are circulated regarding bliin, but the curiousgive his home» ‘vide berth on account of his dogs, two of which always remain at home while the others accompany him whenever he goes away, There may be and probably is aro- mance connected with this little old hermit, but whether it wili ever be solved this side of the grave is doubtful.” i Shorty read this over two or three times, and then fually ent it out, and placed it carefully away in his pocketbook, : A Thea he proceeded to look and feel serious over the matter, Who was this little old hermit? The thought that sacha he might be his father occupied his mind for a long timevas he sat there in the reaving-room of the hotel, and he etre made up his mind that he'would never rest until he had satisfied himself on the point, Shanks came into the room while he was cogitating over the matter. It was fate, but he had been up tate the night before, with some of the gang, while Shorty had escaped them and retired early, and was, therefore, np early, comparatively, |. “ Halloo, Teddy, how you was?" asked Shanks, “Oh, putty good,” replied Shorty, soberly. “Well, you lonk: pretty good, ina ‘horn. What's the matier with you, old man?” “Nothing much; why?” : “ Why?! You Jook as though you had the pip. Don’t feel very well, I guess.” “Not very.” |. * Come and have a cocktail.” , ath Sebo ; é What! Gone back on your bitters?” - No, but Tdon’t feel cock-taifed this morning.” “What, getting tired of having fun and making money? Gracious, you must be off your nut,” “No, but I'm tired of knockin’ around in these fittle towns, an? I'se made up my mind fora change, Shanky,” said he, throwing his little short legs up on che edge of the table, , -“ Tne devil you say! What sort of achange?” asked Shanks, considerably startled, : “ Im goin’ ter work through ter Frisco just as fast ang poasibo.” FAC 4 Bey What for, Shorty?” “°Oog I’s tired) Iwants ter get ter Frisco an’ take @ rest.?2-0sF SU pat Shanks was silent and thoughful over the sudden ghange of route, ; : “We're right on the road now, and “stead of goin’ ' ter these other little one-hoss towns that yer were talking *bout, we can push right through ter Denver, from there to Cheyenne, Ogden, Salt Lake City, Vir- zinia City, Sacramento, Oakland and ’Frisco. See?” he asked, turning to Shanks. » STDS “Yes; the route’s all right, only thero are such fong distances between them,” mused Shanks, “Allright, Get there so much der quicker.” “Yes; but look at the dozens of good show towns that we skip.” : . ‘equa de id “Dat’s allright, Don't I tell yer dat I’m tired?’’ he asked, a trifle severely. i “Very well. ‘That settles it.”’ n “Olt course it does. Change yer route. Call in ther advance agent, an’ starc him this way.” “All right. Anything to oblige the * said Shanks, rising and walking out of the room, leaving Shorty alone to his meditations, ; Meeting Gus Williams and two or three others just coming from breakfast, he said: “What the deuce has come over the ‘Jd man, I wonder?”. Hs : a “Why—got a ‘head’ on him?” asked Gus. Yes.” , : : “Oh, he'll get over that all right.” No, he won't.” Why nov?” ; ; “Because he’s got a pig’s head on him this morn- ing,” said Shanks, sadly. ‘A pig’s head? ‘ { “Maybe he wentto bed en some pig's feet,’ sug- gested Kennedy, looking very knowing. — “No, he’s taken it into his head that he will change -the route.” “Ohange the route?” ab4 “Yes: and push through to ’Frisco as quickly as posaible) 1 : “The deuce!’ What ails him?” ~ “T know,” Bald’ Kennedy; “he has got a touch of ‘the chills, and srimnts to get into the glorious climate of California.” “But wo are doing such a bang-up business along Shis ronte. bi , : SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD “Y know it; but he says he is tired and wants to get to ’Frisco for a rest.” “That suite me, if the salary goes on,” said Harry. “Oh, I guess we can talk him out of it,” suggested Gus. ‘Where is his nibs?”” ‘In the reading-room, he’s as set as a iiule.” “But he don’s mean to go through without stop- ping, does he?” f “Only at the larger towns,” “Weil, that won’t be so bad. Humor him, and perhaps we can talk him out of his notion after a while.” : “Well, you can try it,’ replied Shanks, walking away. _ : . He knew Shorty too well to have any faith in their chin music over him, and so started at once to com- municate by teleyraph to his advance agent to have him stop all negotiations and return at once to sas City for instructions, But Gus and several other members of the com- pany concluded they would have a talk with the “old man,” and see what he had to say. So they walked into the reading-room,where Shorty was still seated, looking more thoughtful and serious than, they had often seen him before. ne ’ The fact was, he had made up his mind to keep this affair to himself, for the gang had always man- aged to have considerable fun at his expense when- ever they had known of his attempting to find hig dad, and in this case he resolved to work alone, whether he was successful or not. - “Halloo, Shorty, how’s this?’ asked Gus, walking in and taking a seat opposite to him, at the same time brushing the ashes frony his segar, dee “Yer ought ter know best, yer smoking it,” replied Shorty, indifferently. “Oh, want one, eh?’ and he handed him a segar. “Dat’s der way ter ‘lustrate yer remarks,” replied Shorty, showing a little grin, as he took a box of matches from his pocket, “Yes, but his remarks are not very profusely illus- trated,” said Kennedy, looking wishful. 4 “Oh, you be hanged. Go out to the bar-room, and you can’ have your remarks illustrated either with separs or drinks,” - But it’s no use to try it; Yes, but I like to employ and encourage home | °Y, talent, my dear boy.”’ “Well, these are imported, so they won’t suit you,” said Gus, leaning complacently back in his chair, “Smokes on Simon,” ssid Billy Barry. ‘ Harry at once went out and brought in segars for the crowd. .*Shanks says you are going to change the route and put for ‘Frisco,’ said Gus.» j **Well, you fellows don’t care, do you?” “No, if it don’t shorten the season.”’ , “Tt won't, if we take in these other places as we come back, will it?” Z “Of course not. As for my part, I had rather be in Califorma than in this wintry region, I am dead sure.” “You bet,” sald Barry. ‘It will be like a change from winter to summer.” “Dat’s what ails my thermometer, boys,’’ said Shorty, pnffing away at his segar, and watching the wreaths of smoke which floated above his head up towards the the ceiling. “Good boy!” . : “Y wants ter lay off an’ loaf awhile, an’ I’ve no no- tion of doin’ it in a snow bank,. Vl give yer alla week either before or after we play there.” “Bully !’said Kennedy. “Yes, it will enable you to brace up and get a few square meals. He says he hasn't had enough to eat since we started,” said Gus, at which they all laugh- ed, knowing his appetite, “How could Ihave a square meal been eating all ‘round ever since we “Chestnut!” cried Gus, “Slug him!’ added Barry. “‘How’s that for a pun?’’ asked the proud author, “Tpun my word I can’t see it,” “But its age enables us to smell it.” “Smell Jet?” “Of course,” and there was another Jangh. “Gentlemen, why is Shorty like a hog that is going from one garden to another?” asked Kennedy, sud- denly brightening up, thinking he had got them. “Give it up.” “Shoot him if he tells it.” ’ “No, Jet him tell it and then make him swallow t.”? “Why am I?" asked Shorty.’ ‘‘Yersee, boys, Llike ter encourage him, for he may say somethin’ Cunny some time. Why am I like a hog dat is goin’ from one garden to another?” ' . “Becange you are going to change your7svule. See? Pronounced ‘root.’ See it?’ Simultaneously every fellow present drew. forth his geese and covered his eyes as though weep- ng. “Oh, pshaw! Now isn’t that good?” he asked, im- patiently. : 5 “One of der most *fectin’ storiés I evér heard,” re- plied Shorty, mournfully. “Very affecting, indeed,” added Gus, drying his eyes and looking solemn. f “Didn’t know he could sing those pathetic songsso welJ,” said Barry. a ’ “Throws 30 much feeling into them.” 7 “¥irst thing of the kind that. ever brought tears.to my eyes,’’ said Ellis, + “Oh, youfellows be hanged; You think, nobody can get off a g00d thing but yourselves,” said Ken- when we have left New York.” nedy;: ’ ; “On, yer do get offa rich thing once in a while, Harry,” said Shorty, seriously, : “That's so," added Gus, “You got off a rich thing ther other day.” ‘ “Ah, yes? What wasit?’ asked Kennedy, bright} ening up. A “Your undershirt,” replied Shorty. A regular yell went upat this,in which alt joined with the exception of the hapless ventriloquist, it is, needless to say. “Well, when we get where the weatheris a little warmer, I guess there'll be a good many rich things got off,” said he, sharply. “Well, we shall send you out into the mountains next time,” said Gus, “Tecan get ‘high’ without that,” “Yes, in anything but your business,” “J guess my business is as good as yours, If I couldn’! sing a Dutch song better than you can, I'd dry up,” retorted Kennedy, § - “You are right, Harry,” said Gus, 3 Bane can Harry sing Durch songs?” asked Billy Ty. “Of course he can, He sang one for one of his ‘dummies’ the other night and broke its jaw.” “Dats 80, an’ it brought down der house,” said Shorty, warming into something of his old humor. once more, “Well, you'd bring down the house, ‘Gus, if the game thing should happen to your jaw,” said Kenne- dy, this time having it on Williams, “Good boy!” said they all, and each one of then, gave him a congratulatory shake of the hand, which’ Pleased him so much that he asked the gang out in-. to the barroom to “‘see a man.”* “Now, fellows, why is Gus Williams like Harry’s landlord?” asked Shorty. ’ Of course they all gave it np but Harry, who made several unsuccessful attempts to guess it. “Well, say is Gus Williams like Kennedy’s land- lord?” asked Barry. ieee nt (ie eee Kennedy gets the best of him occasion- ally. : Laughs on Kennedy this time. ‘ Harry leaned up against the bar and began to cnd- gel his brains for something else, while the others laughed and peured things down their throats. “Let's buy him off,” said Barry, pointing to Har- PWhyr doe ' bites ty “He's going to get off something else,” “Yess let’s buy him up, _How mech will you take and not say it?” asked Gus, aa mit " TheJaugh which followed fairly bluffed him out of anythiug he might have intended to nay... , And so they laughed, chaffed and joked each oth- er until Shorty had regained his former spirits, al- though nothing could induce him to change his mind regarding going through to California, ae While all this was going on, Shorty, Jr., was quiet- ly putting up a job on. Harry Kennedy, in payment for one he had. played on hima few days ago, and which got the laugh on the Kid, “ning tsp 4 nose who have witnessed the remarkable per formances of this ventriloquist know that he uses several ‘dummies’ or’ figures, the lower. jaws of which are so arranged that.he can work them and cause them to move as though in the act of speak- ing, while he is in reality dving thie, talking himself, and making it appear both to the eye and ear of the spectator that the figures are speaking. | , Well, the little runt. was bound to get 2quare with the ventriloquist, and, this is the way he went to work.to do it, ~ Lwayt spire ; Going to the theater, he made his way to the trunk where Kennedy keeps his Gheuy asd and after try-. ing about twenty keys of a bunch that he had bor- rowed of a blacksmith, he. managed to unlock tha rani, . | 'Phen he proceeded to fill the mouths of the two figures, ‘“Pete”” and ‘‘Jim,”’ with red pepper, after which he placed them back in the trunk again and locked it, after accomplishing which, he returned to the hotel, Jooking as honest asa goat that has. just eaten a shirt | paps Well, night caine, of course, and with a fall house tosee theshow. It will be remembered that the company was now doing its old business, having only Parrceiee the pantomime at St, Lonis during the holidays. — « nt ninth i ; ’ It was noticed by different members of the com- pany that Shorty, Jr., was remarkably happy on this particular occasion, and that something tickled he % ance a degree that he could hardly contain himselt, : ‘ > “Whatisit, ‘Sausage’? asked Gus, for be quite as price called the little fellow “Sausage” as anythin, else, “What's sausage?” asked the runt. ‘ _ “I mean what gives you the grin that you are wear ing on your classic mug to-night?” 4 “What der yer think!” : \ “Some fun, I suspect.” oh } “Dere’s where yer whistle it right.” , “What is it?” * “You'll see bimeby,”’ said he, with agrin, —~ “When? None of your pranks on me, or I'll chitck you into an umbrella cover, and wyou into the Whatis it?” ts “Some fun.” ‘ ¢ “With me?” ' “No. Mum?” , “Yes, certainly.” “Wid Kennedy.” “Ts that so?" ; “Just wait 'til yer see him go on,” | “AN right.” “Yell der boys on der sly ter see it,” Riis ’ The result was that the other members of the con pany las s Ha 100k out te see what the fua was to , for hever gaye it away; and when Harty Kennedy was reached on the bitte. and the artist went s ;
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gut on the stage where his trunk was in waiting for him, they gathered at the wings to see his “‘act.”” He was received with a hearty round of applause, for he had made a decided hit the night before, and had been mentioned in the papers as being the great- est ventriloquist of the day. He began: “Ladies and gentlemen, having reached my place on the programme, I will now proceed to give you gzome specimens of the art of ventriloquism;” and then, after giving a few samples, he continued: “You will observe that not a muscle of my face muves while giving these imitations, and I will defy any per- sou to detect me while doing so.” And then there was hearul a little squeaky voice, which seemed to come from the trunk. ““Hatioo! who's in that trank,I wonder? Is that you, Pete?” “Yes,” came the voice again. “How came you in that trunk?” “I cams in after Jim.” “What! Is Jim there, too?” “YVes.”” “What did you get in there for!” "We were playing hide and seek,” “Well, Izuess as you are both hidden, I will pro- seed to seek,” said he, unlocking the trunk, 4s he did sothe voice became more distinct, and ao natural did it seem that it evoked a round of ap- plause. He held an imaginary conversation with the swo figures, after which he proceeded to take them sutin a very careless manner, and then he seated himself, and placed one on each knee,” “Well, now, What have you to say for yourself, Pete?’ “Nothing.” 3 “Nothing!” . “Luck at Johnny up in the gallery!” thé little dum- my seemed to say, as Kennedy caused him to look up toward the gallery, But the working of the under jaw began to slap the red pepper around, and the first thing the ven- triloquist knew, he was tossing his head end giving vent to a sneeze. Then to make it seem a part of the fousiness, he caused Pete to imitate the sneeze. This created a laugh, butit also threw ong more of the pepper, and in less than half a minute the air in his immediate vicinity was fullof flying pepper, mix- éd up with sneezes, Harry was confused and confounded. Ho couldn't understand it at all, Waiting a moment to see if his sneezing fit would not pass away, he concluded to try “Jim” next. ; af . “Lacies and gentlemen, I trust you will pardon this sneezing digression, for the fact is,I (ar-te-chew!) {—I——{ar-te-chew!)” ' This provoked a roar of laughter, for while some of them lopiied upon it as only a part of the act, others regarded itasanaccident, “Now, Jim, what have you to say? (ar-te-chew |)” Jim made no reply, of coursé, but while poor Harry WAS Sneezing sO terrifically that he nearly turned. a sufamersault ard spilled himself and his dummies every time, he caughta glance of the other perform- ers Standing by the wings laughing, and instantly the thought occurred to him that some of them had put up a job on him. ‘ He attempted to examine the mouths of his dum- mies, but in doing so, some more of the red pepper flew ont, nearly strangling him, Then he essayed to explain to the audiénee that some of the jokers had played a trick on him; but all he could do was to sneeze, while his figures flew in different directions, “Pete” hitting a Dutch fiddler in the mouth and set- ting him to sneezing also. The audience yelled, and amid the most uproarious laughter and applause he retired from the stage, sneezing and defeated. He wes hopping mad,and tried to find ont who had worked the racket; but, of course, he did nothing of the kind, and so the performance went on with what little ventriloguism the poor fellow had been able to ve, ‘ 3 Shorty, however, made it all right, and he fixed it the next night, after which they set out for Denver. CHAPTER XXL From Kansas Oity they went to Denver, Colorado, where they were te play three nights. It will bo remembered that Shorty had read about a little old hermit by the name of Burwick, living in Oakland; and that he became interested, and chang- ing his route, resolved to push to San Francisco for the purpose of finding out whether he was his dad or not, , He allowed it to occupy his mind when he was alone, but that was so seldom,and there wasso mueh deviitry going on all the while, that he had but litile’ chance for reflection or the blues. $ i Denver is a bright little city, and a good show town, and the last three nights there produced good houses, although nothing of any importance happen- ed there beyond the usual amount of doviltry that was chronic with the company. They played at the Opera Hones, hae ; Harry Kennedy barely got through sneezing by the time they got 1> Denver, although he was far from getting over being mad. Who the joker was that played the red-pepper trick on him he could not make np his mind for a long time, and whilé in this atate he resolved to get even with everybody in the company, 80 as to be sure that he got at the righr one. But finally, from something that someone said, he took « tumble, and almost knew that it was the Kid ~Shorty, Jr. f Then he made up his mind to step on him just as he would on a cockroach, but, after thinking the matter jover for a while, he remembered the joke that he bad played on him only a short time before, SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. b2 and then he concluded that it was only about even. j But the gang had the grand laugh on him fora long time afterwards, and it was several weeks be- fore he regained confidence in “Pete” and ‘Jim,”’ and made it @ point to examine their mouths every night before going on to perform with them. “All right for you, ‘Sausage.’ I will Jay for you,” said hé to the Kid, P ie better stan’,”’ said the little wag. “Stan? der beers.’ : “Vil give you a bier if you ever play such a joke as that on me again.” “Me! How’d Tee know I played it?” “Now that’s all right.” “OF course it is,’” “Oh, cheese it, Harry! Why don’t you suspect a fellow of your size?” asked Gus Williams. “That’s all right, I tell you; but if he plays any more such nasty jobs on me J’li put him into a how- itzer, and shoot him up into one of these mountains for the jackalls to gather up,” said Harry, indignant- ly. “Oh, don’t break him up. He isn’. hardly large enough for a funeral if you take him whole.” ‘Yes; better kill him decently,” said Billy Barry, sober as a clam. “Well, I tell you it was no joke getting that red pepper into a follow’s eyes.”” “That’s so.” “TI say, Kennedy; why was. dat. trick like bein’ pitched out. of a sleigh by a runaway horse?” asked the Kid, with a Rrin. Harry had to pretty mad when he would pot tackle a conundrum, and after looking at the little pascal fora moment, a smile began to steal over his ace, “Well, why is it?’ he asked, at length, “Cause it's so-no joke.” ad boy,” said he, grasping the little fellow’s hand; “{ won’t kill you now, but I'll get even with you sometime.”” And so the matter dropped for the time being, From Denver they went to Cheyenne, at the junc- tion of the Denver branch of the Pacific road where they were billed to play two nights. Cheyenne is a wine-awake place of considerable importance, and ag there happened: to be quite a large garrison of soldiers stationed at. Fort Cheyenne, business was lively, and two good houses rewarded the company. of players. F ’ From Cheyenne they went to Ogden, Utah, for one night, where a very bad house confronted them. In fact, it was scarcely large enough to pay their ex- penses in the place. fe he next morning they took the train for Salt Lake City, where they were hilled for three nights, with the privilege of four if business warranted it. The ride, at almost any other season of the year, over this route, and, in fact, over the whole route from Omaha. to San Franciscv, is one of the most sublime through which the ifon horse of civilization ever ran, And even when the hills, mountains, forests, can- yons, and deep-down valleys are covered with snow, the view is grand from almost any point of observa- tion, ies There were several Mormons on the train with our friends, and it would have been a wonder, truly, if they did not manage to have some fun with them. Gus Williams had mPa aah tbe three women and an old rooster (supposed to their husband) on the string by informing them that he was going to Salt Lake City to see the great Mormon prophet on some very important business régarding the good of the church, and that he intended to invest a few hundred thousand dollars there and settle down, . This pleased them so that they promised him five or six wives, together with all the benefits of the Mormon religion, which of course pleased the earn- est Joker very much, ; Ki Altegether they had fun enough to make the jour- ney to Salt Lake City seem very short, and when they reaclied there everybody was in good spirits. They found the printer's ink scattered over the town quite liberally, and the prospect for a good house very flattering. Night showed that they had not. miscaléulated at all, for the Salt Lake Theater was never packed toa greater degree than it was to sée the show promised by Shorty’s Varieties. And that audience was not a whit disappointed with the show, as no audience had been since it start- ed out on the road, #0 that the prospect of doing good business was quite favorable, even if the houses fell off a trifle. It happened just at that time that there was a sleighing carnival at Salt Lake City, and everything that had ruuners, or anything from a jack to a horse to pull it, was out on the road, and everybody was en- Joying. it hugely. us Williams and Billy Barry resolved to have a drive out by the lake, and began to go around to the livery-stables in search of a turnout, But the search did not turn out very well, for the only thing they could find was 2 double-sleigh for two horses, for which the proprietor wished and expected to receive five dollars an hour. ; : This they considered a trifle steep, buf while they Were talking the matter over. along came Shanks and Harry Kennedy, on the same errand, So it was quickly arranged, and the turn-out en- Raged forthe afternoon, They were fortunate in Retting it, anyhow,and as each was to pay his share, it would make the price quite reasonable. ~ } They drove up to the hotel in great shape, just to show off and let folks see what they h got, and Shorty felt sick. He wanted to go himself, but as te others were ahead of him, he, of course, was our. “I say, Pll meet you diffs ont on der road,’" said t he, while Gus was up to his room to get a pair of driving’ gloves, “Oh, you. will, eh? .Going to wajk?” asked Shanks, “Yes, Ill walk abead of you.” “Oan't get a horse and sleigh in town,” “Pil try it.” “Allright. We'll wait for you ont at the Lak House,” ssid Barry. x “But we won’t agree to wait until you come,” said Gus, reappearing at that moment, ‘ “Maybe you duffs think I can’t get a hoss an’ sleizh,, [ll show-you.” : “Yer bet we will,” added the Kid, . “All rizht, Ta-ta,’? said they, driving away. “Oh, tal’ replied Shorty. “Come on,” said Shorty, Jr., and they at once went to the landlord to see if there was a possibility of hiring or buying a horse and cutter, “Hang meif I know of anything that arn’t en- gaged,” said he, thoughtfally. “Don’t care a rap what it is if it’s got go inter it,” said Shorty. . “Well, let mesee. Here, Sam, come here,” be add- ed, calling one of the porters. “Yes, sur.” , f “T wonder if Mat Lingham’s horse is out?” “Guess not, sur,” replied the inan, with a grin, “Sure, I don’t think onybody wud take the foikes of him, onyway.” “Go and see.” “Here,”’ said Shorty, handing him 3 quarter. “Now, hurry ase 4 “J will, sur,” and he vanished. “Has he got a sleigh?” “Well, it’s a sort of one.” “But the loss?” : “He's a devilish homely old skin-full he can go like thunder.” 5 “Dat’s my meat!” exclaimed Shorty. “Well, maybe the crows will dispute that point with you,” replied the landlord, laughing. “Til risk it if 1 can only beat dem duffs as has just gone out. Here, Kid, go somewhere an’ buy——” and ne finished his instructions in a whisper, after which the little felow started off on a run, grinning all over himself, “Can you drive?” F “Can U Tecan drive an elephant ora mule.” “Good enough; butif you get this old nag he'll give you all the business you want, if he only gets warmed up, Ah, here comes Sam, » Well, what did he say? Ishe home? Can we have him? —— “Sure, ould Mat says as how yer cep have him for foive dollars this day,’’ said the ‘porter, Bey “Go Bring him right up to the hotel, and here's @nother quarter for you.”” ; ’ pas “So 1 will, sur,” and again he vanished, , “How far is it to der Lake House?’?’ « ? “About three miles, and the oki nag will just abou: get warmed up by the time you get there,” ~ “Dat's what I want bim ter do, Give me some nice smokers,” he addéd, going to the segar cage. ~ a re fi moments Shorty, Jr., returned. “WejlP? | ’ of bones, but The Kid pulled something out of his pocket and slyly showed it to him, eels ele “Dar’s all hunk. Now let’s get our ulsters,” and they started up stairs to their room. ; In five minutes they were down again, inside of their big ulsters which reached rearly to the floor, and two more comicaltooking little coons than the were it would have been impossible to Tid. | S Just then Sam made his appearance behind one of | the queerist, scrawniest, scragzgiést-looking old horses that ever walked on four legs. As to telling how old he was, that was out of the question, and when he was made, the maker either had nothing on hand but skin and bones, or the nag had host everytiiinz else sirice then, Indeed, he never couki' by any possibili- ty have been even a passably good-looking animal, or every disease known to the veterinary sirgeon could never have doubled him us in such shape, and made his hind legs six inches longer than his bowing front onés, or made ‘his ungainly head ‘afoot longer than any horse was ever known to wear before. ut in order to set off his peculiarities, three of his knee joints were bandaged with red flannel; and the aroma of horse meditine could be detected a rod — direction. | . It was evidently one of the first ever, made in Salt Lake City, and it might be well supposed that the maker had never.seen one be- ‘ore, su greatiy did it. differ from anything ever seen get pp on runners. before, PMH SAT TON But is corresponded first-rate with the horse, and the harness was not a whit out of keeping with the remainder of the rig, being made up of several dif- ferent varieties: The saddie was a part of a cart harness, and the traces evidently belonged to a har- ness designed for a donble mule truck, while other portions ofit were quite as incongruous, _— Both of the Shortys laughed for fult five minutes as they surveyed the turn out from where they stood on the piazza, for in all the burlesques they had ever known, nothing they had ever seen could compare with thig, - fle “Well, what do you think of it?” asked the land- lord, after they had partially ceased laughing. Quite a crowd had gathered, and were also laugh- ing at the remarkable turn out, yi “Think! Why, ramrod, it beats anything I ever seen,’’ said Shorty. “Wish I owned it,” “Well, that old scarecrow has got a heap of go in him, as you will find out.” Alar NS “Well, dat’s what we want,” said the Kid. “An? I'm glad he’s. as handsome as ‘pe ja. let's get in an’ try him,”’ said Shorty, “Ds ter be tied when we stop?” this to the porter _ “Waix, I think he’)l stop anywhere yeea put him.” “Got no bad habits?” ore away from him in an: And then: the siei; Come, he want :
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32 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. “Sure, he’d be the divil intirely if he had, wid his! bad looks, so he wud.”” “Allright. UH chance him,” said he, getting into the apology fora Sleigh. _ ; “7 say, landlord, if we don’t come back, you can tell our friends how we perished,’’ said the Kid. “Allright, but I guess there’s no danger.” . They took seats in the sleigh, and Shorty picked up the rope lines, ibis “What's his name?” i i “Bergh.” “Good enough. Git up, beast at once started off, around sent up a shout. Well, there was a turnout, and although a great many people knew it from long association, yet they had never seen strangers driving it before, and es- pecially such little runts as had it now. The boys along the street yelled, and everybody stepped, as Shorty, almost hidden behind the huge, ungainly beast, urged him forward. He did not succeed at. first in getting much more speed than grace of motion out of him, but he grad- ually warmed up, and began to show himself to be like'a singed cat—much better than he looked, and yet he was bound to create a laugh in spite of all the good qualities he might develop. But Shorty was delighted. Nothing in the world could have pleased him better than this turn out did, and he wouldn’t have swopped it with any team_on the road, no, not with a hundred dollars to boot, “Git up, Bergh! . Brace up, an’ show yer good points,”’ said he, reaching for him with the whip. This had the effect to make the old nag let himself out a knot or two, and away he went at really a spanking pace, although whether he was trotting, pacing, racking, or running, would have puzzled an old jockey to teil. . % “Dad, dis takes der cake,”’ said the, Kid. “Yer bet it does, G'lang!” ° In about: ten minutes more they renched the Lake House, where the other fellows had agreed to wait for them, and sure enough there they were, and just on the point of getting into their sleigh again to con- tinue the drive.’ * ~~ But when they saw this old nag-corning, as they did sometime. before, they knew who was driving it, they sent np a yell and waited for thé strange-looking turnout to approach, : nl “What do you call it?” ; = “Tell me and you may. have it.” , “Tt isn’t a sheep,”’ said. Gus. , ; “Oh, no, and it isn’t a cow.’ , , . “Nor.a dromédary,’. said Shanks, and again they langhed and held their sides, attracting a crowd of sleigh riders, who joined, with, them; ‘ “Well, now, you. duffs are havin’ der grand yell-at me,:arn’b you?” said Shorty, which only provoked another eutburst. “Vl. bet wine for der gang dat I can beat yer for a,mile,”.. This created another riotous hurrah, “Til bét wine against, peanuts,” Berghy,” and the homely while the crowd standing “Has your ‘what'is if’ got any speed in him?” asked Gus, Williams, going around and taking a criti- cal look at the animal, “Meney or,wine ’gainst Pee nUes dat I can beat you duffs for a mile,” shouted Shorty. “Let’s try:him a mile, just for fun,” said Gus. _ “Nix! Wine for der.gang.” _ ‘ “Allright. Come on, Where is a mile?” he asked, turning to one of the hostlers,. _ q - “From here to the forks of the road is just a mile,” said tie, pointing down the street, * “All right. Get in and’ let us see what the old ‘whatisit?.can do,” saidGus., .. + : Amid much excitement and merriment, the quar- tette got into the sleigh, Shorty drew up the reins and waited for,theword ‘‘g0,” eee “When all was ready one of the'spectators gave the word, and away the rivals started. Gus and his team at, once took tlie lead, leaving Shorty and his old nag far behind, while both the spectators and those in the sleigh sent upa yell that was heard for miles ALOUNG je ee hia But Shorty was not disconraged. He believed he could win, but if he could not, he was sure to have a aha of fun out of it, and that to him was quite as good. A ; But he was bound to do his. best to win, and so he pave the old nag a liberal supply of gad, and so he egzan to pick up and ‘to overbaul these ahead of him; Faster and faster he threw himself, and before half of the distance had been gone over, he was close behind them,” | . : Gus’ was urging his horses to do their best, and tlosein the sleigh with him were yelling Jike so many wild Indians, poping to break up the old nag that was so surely gaining on them, But all’ to no pur- pose, however, for that ungainly ‘old crow-bait seemed to take courage-from their yells, and at every leap, spring; bound, or whatever it might be called, ue gained, until with a spurt and dash he passed them. . ‘ ‘Then it was Shorty’s turn to yell, and both he and the Kid knew their business, and went in to the ex- tent of their lungs. The old nag seemed to under- stand it, and went even faster than ever, so that when he reached the forks of the road he was atleast ten lengths ahead, and seemingly not doing his best eventhen, It was a bad beat, et . _ Gus saw that he had caught a Tartar, and without attempting to finish the race, he turned around and gave gad to his team tol get them back to the Lake House as soon as ible oh But Shorty was back there quite as soon ashe was, and then, of course the laugh was op Gus and his ng. It was a grand laugh, and the crowd joined in ¢, greatly to the chagrin of Gus and his company, whileShorty became a hero, ~ . ‘Well, duffs, what der yer say now?” he asked, as they assembled in the bar-room. — “We say, name yer quantity,’’ said Barry. The popping of champagne corks punctuated the conversation for the next half hour, and the defeated gang paid for the music. “You don’t dare race me back to the city,” said they after the crowd hai_been thoroughly wet. “Don's 1? Try it on!” said Shorty, “Allright. Bring up the equines!”” Gus called. “We are all out of equines,”’ said the chief hostler; iiss find lots of good things on our bill of are. . After the laugh was finished at the hostler’s ex- pense, and explanations made, the horses were brought up, and all hands embarked for another it to Salt Lake City, a basket of wine to be the for- eit, In the midst of a cheer from the assembled crowd, they started. But, as before, Gus and his team took the lead, and Shorty with his nag was far behind. He gave him a gad, however, and he began to crawl up in his own peculiar style until they were abreast, and the occupants of both sleighs were yelling with ail the lungs they had. : 5 When directly opposite, Shorty, Jr., took a big can- non fire-cracker from his pocket, and igniting it by his segar, he waited until the fuse had burned nearly up, and then throwing it between the horses of Gus’ team, it exploded with a terrific report, frightening the animals nearly out of their hides, u The result was that they kicked, and jumped, and ripped, and in less than three shakes of a goat’s tail, that sleigh was knocked into about fifty pieces, and that gang was scattered in at least four different di rections, all of them going héad first into the snow- banks that lined the drive. : “Come on!” shouted Shorty, as he pulled hard on his patched-up nag. i But there was no response from that gang of four. They were very busy picking themselves out of the snow, and Shorty driving quickly past them, yelled: “Good-by, duffs!” : : But still there was no response, for Gus was: hold- ing on to the lines for dear life, and trying to save the horses, while Shanks and the others were gather- ing up the pieces of the wreck. Shorty, however, did not wait to see how they worked the “pick up,” but giving gad to his old nag, he reached Salt Lake City'and the hotel in good time, paid for his team, and received the congratulations of the landlord and those who witnessed his ‘“‘send- off,” and lighting a fresh segar, he and the Kid took seats on the piazza to wait the appearance of the gang. : But they had to wait for nearly two hours before that sorry and stricken quartette made its appear- ance; and when they did, Gus Williams was riding one horse and leading the other, while Billy Barry, Shanks and Harry Kennedy each appeared with dif- ferent portions of the wrecked turn-out on their shoulders, and breathing curses loud and deep upon Shorty and the Kid, who had caused them all their trouble, and who were then lying off on the piazza, smoking segars and laughing ready to burst as they a@y-peared upon the scene. CHAPTER XXII. Tat tramping gang was mad. They made use of cuss words, They conspired together. to kill and annihilate the two Shortys, for they had used them badly, besides using them badly up. , A wild shout greeted them as they came up to the hotel, which they were obliged to pass, on their way to the livery-stablé where they had hired the turn- out for five dollars an hour, to say nothing of having to pay for the damage that was done. Gus Williams was especially sore. But they did not stop at the hotel, and though they received a grand hurrah as they went past, they were too sick to wait for compliments. _A crowd: followed them, increasing in its propor- tions at every rod, until the police were obliged to drive them away and investigate the cause of the un- common excitement. 4 - But those sleigh-riders finally reached the stable, and throwing down the pieces of the wreck, demand- ed to know the damages. “Yes, what's the damage?” asked Billy Barry. “Guess there must have been a good deal of dam- age when we tookit, or it never would have gone to pieces so easily,” said Kennedy. _ What has happened ?”’ demanded the stable-keep- er. “Well, the horses happened to get frightened; hap- pened to kick a few times; the sleigh happened to go to pieces; we happened to escape being kicked, and now we happen to want to know what the damage is,”’ said Gus, sarcastically. “What frightened them?” “A piece of Fourth of July. Come, hurry up.” The Owner went over the hotses first to see if they were hurt badly, but found that fortunately they had escaped with a little bark knocked off their kickers, and were otherwise all right, Then he examined the sleigh and said something about “kindling wood,” after which he went over the robes to see if they were all there. Billy Barry thought they were all there, for he had lugged them about two miles. Y , - “Wel, say a hundred dollars,” said the owner. “Wat for?” : ; af “Damages? “But how about your horses?” **Well, they are not damaged much.” “But how about letting skittish animals to strangers?’ “Skittish! Two of the most gentle horses in ‘Salt Lake City. fore.” “Probably not. Inever knew any horse to kick up before; they generally kick up behind,” said Gus, seriously. This created a laugh ameng the bystanders at the owner’s expense. “Oh, you know what I mean. They are gentle horses, but when a piece of Fourth of July overtakes them at this season of the year,it is not to be expect- ed that they will not get frightened, No, a hundred dollars will not more than pay me for the sleigh and other damages.” “But don’t you intend to allow us anything for bringing home the wreck?” asked Shanks, ° _ “Well, call itan even hurdred and 1 will say noth- ing about the fifteen dollars for the three hours you have been out.” : The four fellows consulted, and finally went down into their pockets and dragged out twenty-five dol- lars apiece, which they handed over witi: very bad grace, finding their only consolation in their threats to get even with Shorty. They returned’ to their hotel,:where the two Shortys were surrounded by a crowd of admirers, and such a shout as went up when that. sleighing party put in an appearance was a caution to ear trumpets. It was fully five minutes before anybody could get a chance to speak, although Shorty had ulready om dered the basket of wine which he had won, and the barkeeper was filling up a row of glasses that reach- ed the whole length of the bar, there being plenty of thirsty ones to drink it, $ “Want ter race again, Gus?’ yelled Shorty, Jr, “Why don’t yer géta war hoss when yer go out on der road?” asked Shorty, laughing, “I: think they did make war and some tall slaying,” suggested Kennedy, who never missed a chance te get in his little funny work, however mad he might Never knew them tekick up be- be. But the other three were inclined to be grouty and have nothing to'say. _ “Here’s der wine, Gus, come drifk.’? The four victims consulted together a moment, af- ter which they assumed more jovial faces and strug- gled up to the bar. Both of the Shortys were stand- ing upon chairs so as to see the fun,” - “How did yer like yer sleigh-ride, Harry?" “Oh, go to the devil!” ovepig ct Mh “Come have a drink before yer go.” “We'll get even with you for that, Shorty, see if we don’t,” said Gus, Shee f i “You bet we will,” said Shanks, who up to this mo- ment had had but little to say. Probably one reason why he had been so glum was because he had landed on his head in the snowbank when the explosion took place, and before he could get right side up again, he was filled withjsnow,which soon melted and made him feel very uncomfortable. “What’s der matter wid yer, Shaniy?” asked Shorty, laughing. ‘ “Oh, you'll find out before we get to 'Frisco, and don’t forget it.” } ‘ai ’“Oan’t yer take a joke, ole man?” i “Yes, a joke is a Joke, but that was a scurvy trick. Why, it might have killed us all,” _ “Well, dat wouldn’t be a scurvy trick, would it?” “Oh, allright, But we'll drink with you,’”he add- ed, going to the bar. Ye Yl “Certainly,” said Barry, and finally they all stood with a glass of champagne in hand. i “‘Here’s ter der ole wor héss, Bergh, Long may ha be able ter hoop lier upas he did ter-day!” yelled Shorty, holding up his glass. nN The toast was drank amid much laughter and meee although the four victims did not join in f. { ; . ) During the next half hour that basket of wine was partaken of by the crowd, and the best of govd feel- ing succeeded the best. of spirits. But when the last round was taken up,and the last bottle drained, Gus called to Shorty: * “Well, here’s to you,old man, and although calen- lating to get even with yousoon, we can but thank you for this flow of champagne.” / “Thank me! Why, yer drinkin. wid yerselves,” said Shorty, laughing. ; j “Not much,” “What?” “Not any.” “How's dat; didn’t yer bet?” “Ves. ” ‘An’ didn't IL beat yer?” “We claim a foul.” “A what!” screamed Shorty, crowd luoked becomingly surprised. “Can play any foul on me,” _ “But you bet we will, If you had beaten us fairly without that cracker, we would have paid,ef course, but not now, oh no!” f “But yer’ll have ter pay for der wine,” _. “Not much, Who ordered it, landlord?" “Mr. Shorty,” replied he. — 4 ' ‘That settles ir, We pay-for what we order.” This provoked a laugh at Sherty’s expense,and he o while the rest of the ‘| saw that the tables were turned on him, “Did you pay for der sleigh yer ordered?’ ssked Shorty, Jr,, putting in his oar, i “You bet we did;”’ said Gns, In spite of the Jaugh that this raised, they felt that they had got partially even with the little jokers,and so.rested contented for the while, a : Shorty paid for the basket of wine with the best grace he could under the circumstances, and still gonsigered himself 2 long ways ahead of his vic- ims. The affair, however, was destined. to travel over town and create much talk and amusement.but _re- sulted in their benefit, for a full house awaited the
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. 33 roes. And during many parts of the entertainment vari- ous humorous sllusions were made to the affair, by several members of the company, each one of which “took” with the audience. : 5 The next night was their last one in Salt Lake City, but a first-rate house assembled, and everybody was ' at his best. be At the conclusion of the show Shorty was loudly called for, and finally responded by making his ‘ap- pearance, hat in hand, and dressed in his best. This call came especially from the galleries, for, as usual, he was the strongest with the boys, who had heard so much of him through the story papers: “Speech—speech!” was the cry. | \ ~ irae | | thing, but finally they managed to play a few jokes on him, although they were far from being so satis- factory as they could have wished. “Oh, you duffs can’t play nuffin on me,’’ said Shorty, who occupied a seat just in front of them, “Ill bet could play something on you ifI had a chance,” said Kennedy. ‘ ‘What?’ “T could play a stream on you if I had a hose.” “Hose joke is dat?” asked Shorty. “Ken-e-dry it?” asked the Kid. “What-a-squirt!/” said Gus, and this broke up poor Kennedy. ‘ The passengers became interested in the punsters and jokers, and those who were not engaged in watching the wonderful mountain scenery through “Oh, papa, please don’t;"’ whined Shorty, rubbing his eyes. ‘Don't get married, papa, for mama says you mustn't,” blubbered the Kid. Shorty bowed. ; “Ladies.an’ gents—an’ boys: I’s much obliged ter yer for yer kindnegs an’ ’preciation of my show. I think it’s a pretty good one myself, although 1’s got three or four chaps in it dat don’t’’mount ter much ona sleigh-ride. [Laughter and AUS poo Théy can’t drive away from Lingham’s ole Bergh. [Laughter] He isn’t as handsome as Gus Williams, but he’s got more 50 inter him. But, jokin’ aside, { shall remem- ber Salt Lake City as long as I live, as some udder members of der company will, most like. Be good ter yerself an’ der babies ’til lcome back ag’in, an Til bring yer some worse performers den I got now, an’ somé worse jokes den. Harry Kennedy gits off. Ta-ta!l’’ he added, bowing himself from the stage. A generous round of applause followed him, and the well-pleased audience dispersed. From Salt Lake City the company started for Sac- ramento, California, where they were to play a week at the Metropolitan Theater. But it is a Jong ride between the two places, and of course, to a certain extent, a tiresome one, although the accommodations on the Pacific road are all that could be asked for. Of course the reader understands the gang well enough by this time to know that they{would contrive some way to make the time pass lizhtly and pleas- antly, even if it was done at somebody else’s ex- pense. f 4 : It was only a regular thing with them, and this oc- casion was no exception, for they were allin for fun of whatever nature they could originate upon the spur of the moment. Shanks, Kennedy, Billy Barry and Gus Williams were continually watching for an opportunity to get in their fine work on the two Shortys, but they were continually on the lookout, Seer at of course, thas they would try and get square for the sleigh-ride racket. They tried for a long while without effecting any- rea they were passing, were enjoying the fun hugely. But there was one chap that got on at Elko, who didn’t appreciate anything, All he wanted was tobe let alone and to sleep. But precious little of it did he get in thatcar, you may depend, for no sooner would he get into a doze than over his head would go back- wards, where it would remain, mouth open, until some of the gang would drop a peanut or something into it, when up he would flop, and wonder what the deuce it all meant, anyhow. But he was either too stupid or too sleepy to under- stand that the jokers were varying the monotony of the ride at his expense, and so after a while he would go through the same performance again, only to make fresh fun for the company, i And so the thing went on in various ‘shapes until towards night, during which that unfortunate sleepy mau kept growing worse and worse, and furnishing more fun. | Finally, Shorty took a seat just behind him for the purpose of forcing the fnn. All eyes were quickly turned upon the sober little joker, for even those who did not know who he was, knew that there was a fund.of live deviltry in him. The sleepy man, who had mashed a peanut only a few moments before, soon forgot. the circumstance, and presently his head fell over backwards again, his mouth flew open, and the snore that he sent forth could be heard above the roar and racket of the train, 4 r ivr : Shorty struck a sulphur match, and allowed the fumes to play gently around his nostrils, when he awoke with a jerk that drop: ed his hat into the joker’s lap, and exclaimed: ‘The devil!” Shorty handed him his hat with great politeness, looking as solemn as an owl. | “You dropped your cady, boss,” said he. ~ “Oh, ah, thank you, sonny!” said he, making grab for his beaver, a “T beg pardon, but you made a remark just as you conte your tile,”’ suggested Shorty. “Oh, did I? Waal, I—I liad a dream, an’ maybe I torked in my sleep; I’m orful sleepy,” and he yawn- ed for the next two minutes. ES “Dream, eh? What was it?” “Waal, I thort I was with the devil.” “The deyil you say |’? said Shorty. % “Vas, fact, but I’m orful sleepy,” said he, and again he yawned. ‘Wonder when they make up the bunks?” f Z “Oh, any time.” 1 ‘‘How’s that?” he asked, eagerly. . “Any time when yer want-ter bunk.” — ; “Waal, I’d like ter bunk "bout now,” said he, epen- ing his mug for another yawn, ; Ny NGG “The ‘ Orter’ll be in soon,” . ‘Waal, young feller, wake me up when he duz come, will yer?” ie Dig opt replied Shorty. .. Le a Ah!” dnd with another yawn he fell off into an- other snooze. ; p Shorty waited until he was fast asleep, and then placing his mouth close to his ear, he yelee “Change cars!’ and instantly fell back into his own seat, and pretended to be asleep. SPAR ORS Mr. Sleepy leaped to his feet, but, of course, he saw nobody near, and the train was dashing ahead at the rate of forty miles an hour. HIE. Eee He looked wildly around, but nobody appeared to understand what he wantedany more than he under- stood the situation. : Mingo hes “Guess I must have had another one of them cuss- ed dreams,” he muttered, as he settled back into his seat. “Wish ter thunder that thar porter would make up the bunks.” bs In truth, they had not yet arrived at the station where the sleeping cars were taken on, but that made no difference to him, He wanted to go to bed anyhow. Bs Shorty woke up, or seemed to, just then, and again he went for him. ( c “T say, sonny. arn’t it bout time fer that thar por- ter ter show up?” he asked, : “Oh, port’s all right,” replied Shorty, “But why don’t he show in?’’ ’ “Want him real bad?” i “In course I do--I'm orful sleepy,” ok “Well, don’t yer know how der ole thing works?” “Don’t know’s I do,. Never went ¢ver this route afore. . How does she work” j “Simple as fallin” off a log.” “No! 4 4 “Fact. Yer want ter go ter bunk?” * “Bad, sonny, bad,’ and he emphasized it with an
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other yawn. ‘I hearn tell that they made up bunks tight here in the keers.”” ‘Oh, cert. Make ’em up any time yer want,” “But I want mine now, by thunder,” “AN right, know how ter work it?’ “No.” “See that door out ter der end of dercar?” he ask ed, pointing to the wash room. “Yas he drawled, “Weil, dat’s it,”’ “What?” “Der undressin’ room.” “What for?” “Der’s where yer have ter go an’ take off yer har- ness.” a “Yer don’t say so?” “Cert. Now if yer want der port ter make up yer bunk, all yer got ter dois ter go in dat room an’ take off yer duds, an’ den come back ter yer seat again. He'll see yer an’ ’]l know it’s a sign dat yer wants ter turn in, so he’ll come an’ make HP yer bunk.”’ “Sonny, I'm ’bleged ter yer, I'll just do that little trick right off; and as good as his word, he started for the little retiring room at che end of the car, Shorty gave it away to several of those who sat near, allof whom had been enjoying the fun ever since it began, but he lost no time in changing seats, although he got where he could see the continuation of the fun. is In the course of five minutes the door of the little room opened, and out came that sleepy passenger, robed only in lis undershirt and drawers, having hung his outer garments upin the room. . A yell of delight greeted him as he came down the aisle, but three or four ladies whom he had to pass sent up screams, and several of the passengers at the far end of the car yelled for the coiductor or some- body to Hoke ont what they believed to be a Innatic. But old Sleepy paid no attention to allthis. He wanted his bnuk, and returning to his seat, he sat down to await tlhe appearance of the porter, who was to make it up for him. * ‘ 3 Tivo or three passengers ran in different directions in quest of the conductor, porter or somebody, to have the lunatic removed, while the ladies felt it to be their duty to tlush and send up little screams now and then, to convince the passengers ‘that they had nen seen a man in his underclothing before in their ves, y? Pit kim outl” “Run him)? “Git out! Y “What's the matter with you?” and various other calls greeted his ears. : But he tieard only the last one. : “Vm sleepy, that’s all’s the matter,”’ said he, look- ing around in astonishment, ‘Git outr? ‘ “Oh, ah! Put that horrible man out,” said an old maid, who pretend@d to be horrified, but who was Jooking at him between the fingers of the hand she was holding to her face. Jugt then the conductor entered the car, and going straight up to the sleepy undressed, he asked: “What's the matter with you?’’ y “Pm sleepy. Be you the porter?” “No; but what the devil are you in this undress aniform for?” Y Want iny bunk, made up.” ; “Guess you want to get your head made up. Now you get out of here on the double quick!’ said he, seizing him by the nape of the nevk. “Lemme, be!”’ yelled Mr. Sleepy. “Come along!?. pier it or——” t 8.*. He didn’t stop to finish his expression, but drawing off, he hit the conductor a welt in the snoot that sent, hiin over on top of the old maid whose modesty had been so terribly shocked. “Don't lay much haudson me, stranger. I want my bunk made up, an’ no nonsense ’bout if, either,” said he, while the astonished official was picking himself er ® “Oh, Dll fix you," said the conductor, going out to bring ina big brakeman, — | - “Strangers, how is this, anyway?” he asked, turn- ing to the passengers. “You're out of order,” said Guns Williams, “Guess Pim regular, boss,” said he, in reply; but at that moment the conductor returned with his fight- ing brakeman, and they went for him again. A regular rough-and-tumble followed, in which the sleepy passenger, how fully awake, canie out best, after which he made his way back to where he had left his togs. rh es ; The worsied conductor followed him, and soon be- game eonyinced that a joke had been played on the or fellow. And he soon came out, wide awake and ull Of wrath, asking: “Whar’s that little cuss as showed me how ther eld thing worked?” CHAPTER XXIIL, THar indignant passenger, on whom Shorty had played the undressing joke, meant business when he waiked into the car, and asked for the little cuss who had got hit on buch a string. : But both of the Suortys knew their business well enough to get down under the seats out of sight. So he walked back and forth making inquiries in vain, and offering to thrash everybody in the car provided he could only be'shown'the little joker. ; ut le soon made himself unpopular in the car, and gradually subsided. Once in his seat again, he soon forgot his anger, and fell into'a snooze that every- body was thankful for. - j Then Shorty came out, but there were no more dokes played that night, The “sleepers’” were soon SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. after taken on, and with everybody in bed, they sped onward again toward Sacramento, where it will be remembered that Shorty’s Varieties were to hold forth in the Metropolitan Tieater for a week. Probably tiie majority of my readers have ridden in a sleeping-car, so it is no news to them to say that there is considerable human nature developed in them during a night's ride. , There was heaps of it manifested on the occasion of this ride to Sacramento, and not a few were heartily glad when morning came, Harry Kennedy, however, made the. most of the fun, playing all sorts of ventriloquial jokes on every- body, except the members of the gang, who of course knew his racket. Firsta baby was heard to squall, and then its moth- er would try to soothe it; then its supposed father would jaw and curse because it kept him awake, and suggested the advisability of chucking the squalling brat out of the car window. Tien the passengers would become disgusted and yell. at them to shut up, and wait until they got home to have their quarrel; that it was bad enough to hear the kid squeak without having their chin-music mixed in witl it, \ ! Then he would imitate the barking of a dog, and thare would be more cursing. In short, he kept everybody stirred up fora couple of hours by hig'art of imitating sounds, and when things began to quiet down a bit, he would again set the imaginary child to sqnalling and its imaginary parents to fighting about it. A Finally one of the passengers, who had been un- able to get to sleep, sent for tle conductor, “Can’t you Keer those peopte quiet over there? I haven’t slept a wink all nigtit for their infernal fight- ing and that brat’s wailing, and as though tliat was not enough, somebody has got a devilish dog in the , car to bark,” said he. “A dog? You must be mistaken. We allow no dogs on the train,” said the conductor.. “Well, you've got one on, anyway.” ‘Pete, have you seen a dog on this car?” he asked, turning to the colored porter, F “I seen no dog, sah.”” j “Well, you might have heard it. We all heard it, and not five minutes ago.” s “All right; if he disturbs you again, I will have him fired out,” and the conductor turned to walk away. “ Yip—yip—yip!” came the sharp tones of that dog again. : “There, hear it!” called the passenger. > ai conductor walked in the direction of the sound. ‘ “Anybody got a dog here?” he asked, looking first into one berth and then another, t But they all said no, and didn’t say it very softly. either; and so the conductor was on th poilit 0. leaving the car, remarking to the complaining pas- senger that he couldu’t find any dog. Ashe spoke, the barking commenced again, and both the conductor and porter started for the berth from which the sound seemed to come. - ¥ It happened to be the berth of our old friend, he on rior Shorty had played the undress game during the day. : “Here, give me that dog!” said he, shaking him roughly to awaken him. : “Hey? « What’s the matter?” asked Old Sleepy, as 108 light of the conductor’s lantern flashed in his ‘ace. “You've got a dog here.’ “Gotter what?” * “A dog.” “Whasser matter wiz you, anyway?” “Come, hand out that dog. 1t’s against the rules of the road to carry dogs on the cars.” “Stranger, be you drunk, 01 be I?” he asked, be- coming fully awakened, although still confused as to what was wanted. “Oh, don’t bother! Where's that pup?” said the conductor, impatiently. “Git out! Gotno dorg.” “Yes, you have; I heard him bark, and he’s keep- ing passengers awake.” “Who be you, anyway?” “Tam the conductor.” “Oh, is it my ticket you want?” “No, I want that dog.” “I got no dog, I tell. you, an? the next tima I tell you I shall du so with my fist. Now see ’f you'll take a tumble. |The idea of ine having a dorg!) What in Pea EnE dol want of a dorg?’’? and he laughed deris- vely. “Put him out!’’ shouted several. i “Kill der kioodle!”? yelled Shorty. “Bounce him!” 4 “\Vaal, now, some o’ you fresh roosters better come an’ «ry it,” roared the now thoroughly aroused. pas- senger. “This is another one of these jokes as war played on me ter-day.. But I warn you, better not try to braid the mule’s tail,”’ NOY “But you have a dog here and must give it up,” putin the condnetor. * “You're a liar! Does that sonnd natural to you?” said he. “Now, you just light out, and if Phear any more nonsense abouta dog or a cat, or anything else, you'll see some fun,and don’t sou stand around here and forget it.” The conductor seemed -puzzled. He’ knew that sleepy passenger was fully awake now, and he wish- ed himself well out of the scrape, “Well, ifithat dog makes any more noise, I shall put both of you out of the car,” said he. “Stranger, you’re trying to braid that mule’s tail I was speaking to yon *bout,” “You just remember what I say,” and he turned to walk from the car, resolved to take no further notice of the matter when he once got away. But he had not reached the door when Harry Ken- nedy commenced the barking again in imitation of the dog, and the passengers began to shoul their displeasure. here was no help for it now, and_so, going for a couple of brakemen, he returned and ordered them to pull the povr passenger from his berth withoks ceremony. y He had fallen asleep again by this time, but they did not stop to waken him gently; but in less than two shakes of a doxz’s narrative, they pulled him sprawling out upon the floor, where the two brake- men and the porter held him while the conductor yeaa into the berth with his lantern to Mud the Or. But, of course, there was no dog there, That in- dignant passenger was there, however, and the con- fusion and swearing occasioned by his being bouneed was so great that everybody was up,and the females were screaining murder, : The conductor finally announced that he could fina no dog, and ordered his men to let the abused pass- enger get up, f But no sooner had he regained his feet than he went forthat gang, knocking them right and left, while the passengers got in out of sight, fearing he might take it into his head to give them a taste of his style as well. Shorty and his friénds were convulsed with laugh- ter, of course, but none of them cared to getin the way of that fellow’s fists, | He wasn’t two minutes in clearing out that gang, and then he looked around to see if his work was all done, Butthere wasn’t a mug in sight, and every curtain was closely drawn, although there were many anxious eyes peeping out from the eracks; eyes that were nota bit ambitious to get into mourn- ing. 1 A ; “Now maybe somebody else wants to pull me. out of my bunk,” said he, ‘“Maybe somebody else shinks I've got.a dorg.” APA eos He waited a moment, but there was no reply, and pe got slowly back into his bunk, muttering as he ter ; Rete : - “I told *em how it would be if they tried to braid the mule’s tail,”” : It is safe to say that nobody else made am attempt at that, mule’s tail during the remainder _of the night, and having had all the fun they wanted,Har and the gang soon after forgot their di ivluyind dropped off to sleep, — Bt saya? The next morning, after the bunks were packed away, and:the passengers had a chance to look at each other,they were surprised to see that there was no baby on board, and no parents to jaw each, otb- +r on account of it; and, i fact, there was mo dog. They could account for it in no other way than that they must have got off somewhere during the night, But if any of them should chance to see this ac- count of the affair and rememberit, they will under stand that it was simply a clever trick) by a very elever ventriloquist. Ree i Tliey arrived at Sacramento in time for breakfast, and.as the train remained therean hour, nearly of the passengers went to a hotel near the depot, and enjoyed a good wash and a square breakfast. They were now right in the heart of thp glorious climate of California. and such a pleasant trans?a- tion was it that everybody was in the best of spirits; for coming down from the mountains inte the beau- tiful valley, is Mke going from winter to summer iz the space of three hours. - Everything was in bloom and beautiful, and the passengers coming froin the ped dressed in their furs and big ulsters, looked unny, ay 5 Among the others who went to the hotel for breals fast was our old friend who had made such a lively fight the night before when pulled from his bunk, He appeared to have had sleep enouzh for, at least, awhile, and was looking as fine as silk, considering what he had gone through. ‘ But almost the first thing that had. attracted: his attention after he got ont was.a full-sized portrait of Shorty, printed on posters with: wyich the dead walls were covered, as they also were with the pictures: of other’ members of his troupe, ; aud He stopped infront of one of them. > “Waal, snatch me bali-headed if that ain't the picture of the very little cuss that played the joke on me *bout undressin®. What's hisname?: Shorty, Guess he’s some sort of a performer, ’ Tet me see— ‘Shorty’s Varieties,’—that’s so; Pvea devilish good mind to stop over to-day and s¢e the show, Gof noth- ing particular to doin ’Frisco,’> he mused, as he made his way into the hotel. ‘The mischievous hit tle runt! Waal, it served ime right for being so con. founded green 3 aud he langhed good-naturedly, for he was evidentiy one of those fellows who can take a jok2 and enjoy it, although he was mad enough at the time tohave thrown the little joker frem the cars, f He washed and walked into the dining-reom for his breakfast, and,as luck would have it, the waiter gave him aseat directly opposite to where Shorty Was sitting. : This didu’t make Shorty over and above happy, for he wasn’t certain whether or not he intended to “chew him up” for “braiding that mule’s tail.” He glanced at the others, and then took a laok at Shorty. As he did so. a big, good-natured grin over spread his face, and Shorty was not slow,te see it, and met it with anotherof his own. < The others observed these signs of amnesty, 200 the result was a luugh all alony the line, " “Pretty good for you, young chap, You're a little tough every time,” said he. . : C Another Inugh greeted this, for they all remem- bered the occurrence and how ridiculously comical the man looked when he came out of the | retiring room with nothing but his drawers and undershirs ¢
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on, expecting that the porter would at once make up his bunk. | “Oh, it’s all right—I own up, us a couple of . bottles)” said he. with me.” , % i “AN right, we'll accommodate you,” said Gus Wil- liams. The wine was quickly brought and a dozen ylasses flashed with its effervescence. “Waal, ole man; here’s hopin’ yer’ll never need a bunk,” said Shorty, : “Good, and here’s hoping you'll never need a sub- ject for a joke,” said he, in reply. This made them friends at.ouce,and the breakfast was finished with the utmost good feeling, “But how about that dog?” asked Shanks, “Goldarn that dorg. Say, what sort of a racket was that, any way?” he sked, laughing. ae “Didn’t have any dog after all, did you?” asked Gus Williams, © “Of course not, There vara no dog. But I won- der iow them chaps feel who yiiuked me out of my. bunk? Guess they got all the dorg they wanted.” “T saw the conductor as we came out, but he didn’t see me,” said Shanks, “for his eye had glut up shop for a few days.” “He don’t want any more dorg.” . “By the way, that reminds me that your berth was ‘® section ‘9,’ ‘K—9,’ see?” said Harry Kennedy, “What?” “K—§, and.that’s why he got all the dog he want- ede See?” 5 , “Waal, stranger, I don’t understand Latin, but I spose it’siall right.” @ glanced down the table, but everybody belong- ing. to ‘the party was looking as sober ag usual, for they had made it a rule never to laugh at any of Harry’s jokes, and he concluded that, he had only been speaking a little Latin, So the matter dropped, greatly to the disgust of Harry, who insisted upon it that it was a first-class joke, and deserved a good reception, ‘ ‘ “All right. I’m dead in love with the whole lot of you, for I know you're fullof it. I’m goin’ to stop over to see.yourshow."’ | , » “Good boy. » Here’s some tickets,” said Shorty, Here, waiter, bring “You must wet.lt “No, thank you, ’m well heeled; Town a mine that | pans out rich, and I can afford to buy my way, Fact is, L think I" take the whole theater, just for fun, aud let anybodAcome in for nothing. ow much does the theater Nolc, anyhow?” “A bout a thousand dollars,”’ said Shanks. “All right. Here’s a check for a thousand, and it’s my treat for this town,” said he, taking a check from his book and filling it out, “There, ask the landlord if, that’s good,”” he added, handing it to Shanks, By this time breakfast was over, and they all ‘ad- reer to the reading, smoking or bar-room., The dea that the stranger had proposed was, a novel one, and with a proper advertising, it might create a sensation, so Shanks went to see the landlord of the hotel, “Is that check good?” he asked, handing it to me He tuok it and examined it closely. - “Good! Is Jim’ O’Erine’s check: good? Well, I should’say so: “I'll give you the cash for it if, you have any doubts, Why, he’s worth twenty millions, He's.a: bonanza king. How did you get hold of his check?” “Why, he’s here,” said Shanks. ‘The devil he is!”? and he turned to the register. “That’s 80, “Here's his name. Where is he? He's ast the man Iwant to see,” and he added, after hanks had explained about the check: “Big thing —big thing! \That’s him. _He’s full of such rackets . as that,” and he proceeded to tell him of several just giwh eccentricities. The result was that everybody who presented him- self at the box office that night to buy a ticket, was given one with the compliments of Bonanza, O’Brine, and tle house was packed. ; Everybody knew O'Brine, of course, but they did not know, and could get noidea of what had prompt- ed him to buy up the whole theater, and treat every- body who went to see the show. j ; By thig time, of course, the reader knows all about the show, arid the individual: members of the com- pany giving it, and they need not be told that itawas a good one on this occasion, nomthat tb gave ample satisfaction. , oft The eccentric millionaire enjoyed it very much, and treated the gang to a wine supper after the per- formance was over, be lad And more than this, he gave them at.especial in yitation to call on him when they reached San Francisco, and promised toimake their stay, in that charming city as lovely as it could possibly be. The next day he parted with them,but every paper in the city had an account of the affair the night be- fore, and the consequence was that it was the whole town talk for the next four days, But they did not allow him to leave until they had informed him all about. the dog racket, and how it was played. 4 4 aneia The thing pleased him immensely, and after see- ing Harry Kennedy, he could understand it without any difficulty: ain isi 4 » But white allthis was going on. and they were en ying themselves.so well, Gus Williams was qniet- thinking how he could get square with Shorty for that sleigh-ride tacket at Salt Lake City, which the neader doubtless remembers. Se peak atk hat At length he found a way, and at once set himself to work toperfectit. rit “It appears that a certain female trapeze perform- \ er, traveling with a combination of various kinds of , talent, of which she was the best, came to grief in ‘ “SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. Sacramento, and all of her traps had been left be- hind, and were stored in the theater. ; Among these was an air spring which had been used to shoot her up about twenty feet into the air, whereshe caught a trapeze swing, and proceeded with her act. The thing was out of repair, but still had strength enough Jjeft to bounce a person about ten feet into the air, and Gus, together with the other fellows who were victitns to Shorty’s Salt Lake City racket, at once set to work to put the thing in shape, After working sonie time, they fixed the spring in the floor just where Shorty always placed his chair during his banjo act, (and he had the business down 8o fine that he never varied his position three inches), and had it all re ydy for the third night. | They worked the thing very carefully, and were delighted to. see that he placed ‘his Chair directly over the spring when he went out to do his act with BHOrEy, Jr., and of course they stood ready to work t, Shorty and his gon were never in finer feather than on this occasion. There was a full house, and their previous act (his old monkey business) had been ap- plauded to the echo, so they went on with a )urrah, “Well, chile, how you-was feelin’ ter-night?” ask- ed Shorty, as. he Pees his chair, and began to fin- ger the strings of his banjo. “Tine-as sik, daddy. self?” asked the Kid, “Weel jus’ like flyin’, chile.” “Is dutso? Well, Lallus thort as how you war ‘fly,’ ole man. But I hear dat you an’ Jimmy O’Brine hab struck it fat on anoder bonanza.”* “Chile, W’s sorry fo’ ter say dat I ama bery rich man, “‘Mus’ be if yer feel like flyin’, for dat: is berry ex- pensive nowadays,” 14 ; “Yes, but it all depends on what yer flyin’; but if you hab your orchestrious in workin? order, we will oscillate Up in a Balloon’ fo’ a moment.”’ “De machine am wound up, daddy,” “Den let her goi” They started off with a double banjo snap on “Up in a Ballcon,”’ playing beautifully, but not half se beautifully as it was destined to be played on them, They had sung one verse and the chorus, and were just getting on to the chorus of the second verse when that spring: was let off, ard both of them shot upward like rockets and Hise nae ted in the flies, Both of them, however, had presence of mind enough tq catch hold of the ropes belonging to the sceuery, and were thus saved from falling ae upon the stage. But it was. the most sudden exit that any actor was ever known to make, and the andience was left in donbt as to whether they would ever appear again, With considerable difficulty they managed: to get down, but before they could do so, there was another act ou, ow you was a feelin’ your- CHAPTER XXTV, “Waar did jt, dad?” asked the Kid, aftet they had got back to the stage again, “I give itp, sonny, but I'll bet there was a racket in it,’ said Shorty. “Well, I should say so,” “Gus Williams?” “An’ der gang.” “Gettin’ square.” “Wor Salt Lake City.” f “Ves, but what was it; powder?” “Hang meift I know, but if we hadn’t caught,ther business would have been bust,”" “Gone up.” “Mashed,’” “They worked it good.” Ha, “All right. We'll kill dem duffs next time, “Yer bet.” , And while they saw everybody on the stage laugh- ing, they went to their dressing-room and proceeded to unharness, VEN Vy It was the biggest job of getting “link” that was ever played on Shorty, and to say nothing of the fi it gave them, they felt very sore and sober over it, And it was A mighty dangerous trick, too, and, as Shorty had said, if they had not saved themselves by catching the ropes up in the “flies,” they might have; been badly burt, But to tell the truth, the jokers had not calenlated on firing or bouncing them upso high. They had not tested the power of the bouncer, and only guess- ed that it would shoot them up a few feet, But when they saw the two mints going up like rockets, they, were frightened half ont of their wits, pand only breathed again when they saw them catch and save themselves, . _ “Good Moses, what a bounce!” said Gus Williams, in a whisper. “Heavens! Why, I thought they were going right up through the roof,” said Harry Kennedy. _ “Wonder if they have any idea what litied them?” asked Billy Barry, aoe : “I don’t believe they have. But we had better get the trap out of sight before they come out, or they'll find out sure,” A “That’s so. Quick! get a screw-driver,”’ and at it they went, succeeding in getting it out of the way, just as the two indignant Shortys came from their dréssing-rooms, f : i The, show was just over, and every one shot out of sight into their dressing-rooms, leaving Shorty alone behind the curtain. id Sing g et | He began to look around to see if he could find whatit was that had bounced him so fearfully; out, of course, be found nothing. i j 7] While he was examining the flooring of the stage one of the scene snifters came along. “Say, roxy, did yer see it?" he asked, The man Jooked at him in surprise,and then begam to look around the floor, “Have you lost anything?” he asked. “Nix; did yer see der bource?” p “Me? ast did yer see °em shoot me up inter der es?” *Yes; didn’t they do it all right?” “Well, I should say so.” ‘ “Rather a dangerous act, aren’t it?” asked the man, 5 “Well, [should crow dat it was.” “Hyer get hurt doing ics? “What are yer givin’ me?” = ou only asked if you ever got hurt’ dolng that act?” “Bahl act!’ exclaimed Shorty, ‘in disgust, for he thought the fellow was giving him taffy, “Yes, that’s your regular act, isn’t it?” “Git out)? ; “Well, I certainly thought it was, Didn’s you ever do it before?” ‘ ; “No, sir, I never did.”* “Well, you did it first-rate.” “Yes, rather, Doyer know der snap?” “T don’t understand you,’” ; “Der racket,”’ i “Todon’s know aoe about it,” “Don't yer know how they worked it?” ; “Thaven’t the slightest idea; I. was behind getting the flats in place.” “Albright.” . And Shorty turned on: his heel and walked away. somewhat disgusted. ! He found Shanks in the box office, |. “What sort of a finish do you call that?” he asked, as Shorty waddled in, (3 “Finish!” 4G : \ ; “Yes; every body was talking about it as they wont out,” i ; Shorty looked at him a moment suspiciously, “Something new? - é ‘T should say yes. War yer in it, Shanky?” . “Me? No.” ". * i “Sure?” i - ‘ “Of course I’m sure, Theard people talking abort it, and I asked one of the ushers what it was,and he said that you and the Kid finished your banjo act by taking a flying leap up into the flies. >How did you work it? Wires?” pen it “Bah! it was some sort of a job dat dem hams put up on us.” : “What?” iis “Fact, Gettin’ hunk on Salt Lake City.” — “The deuce you say)’? and as Shanks was ene of the victims of that sleigh ridé, he laughed heartily over the affair, and wished he had seen it,» “All right for Gus an’ der rest. of’em. See if I don’t git hunk.” .¥ But this threat only made Shanks laugh the loud- er, “Why, it might have killed us beth,” _ “Yes; and you might have killed all four of uw when you fired that cracker between our horses, an made them run away and kick the sleigh all to pieces. Did you stop to think of that? This was only getiing even with you,” | ; “Even! Now yer see how sick I'l! make dem duffs before I git done wid’em, 171+ make,’em eat mus- “All right; but you must expect to get a dose your. | self once in a while, old man.” ‘ Shorty made no reply, and lighting a segar, he puiled his hat down so that it covered his eyes al- inost, and started for the hotel, thinking all the while what he could do to get square with the jok- ers. , Said jokers kept out of his way that night, feeling that it was best to do so, and that Shorty would be lkely to feel more like laughing over the matter next ay. at yeege] Ce eet But they had many a hearty laugh over it them. | Selves, and told it:to every body they knew, the result of which was that a reporter for one of the Pewee SA of it and worked it up inthe following style, t ; ei stehie, BROT wasn . it greeted Shorty’s eyes the first thing in the morn- ing. it was headea;,.. ek *“) NEW WAY TO END AN AcT, |” “Of all the sensational ways of ending a comic ach that was ever seen in Sacramento, we venture to say that the one employed by the celebrated Shoriy at the Metropolitan Theater, ‘taker the cake.’ “The tvo little fellows. while singing ‘Up in a Balloon’ last night, snddenly shot up ont of sight, and did not appear again, and neither was there any explana- tion offered, But from what we hava heard said by those who wotild be likely to know, we strongly sus- pect it was a joke not down in the bills, and was quite as much of an astonisher to the Shortys as it Was to the audience, As near as we can learn, the whole tronpe are a seb of practical jokers, and phat this ‘bounce’ was designed to pay off an pe eae Bat it was rather a dangerous one to play, although we are happy to say that ic produced no harin'be- yond a laughable fright. We doubt if Shorty will do this ‘finish again’? 7. UR, ‘ That really made the joke complete, and as Sliorty always appreciated a zo0d thing, even if it did fo against him, he could but laugh after all was said and. done. SO babar SES “Best finish I ever saw in my life,” said Billy Bar ry, the first to rally him on it © Bite c tee “Yer’ll see a finer finish den dat one of, dese days _ an’. don’t whistle dat yer won't,” replisd Shorty, “Bounce?” foony Ts
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36 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. “Never yer mind what it is, yer know I allus get’s “Well, who are you going to get hunk with in this case?” asked Gus Williams, soberly. “All right, Gus, only don’t try ter play such a rough snap on me again, dat’s’all, Why, yer might - have broken our necks,” j ‘Who might?” ; : “Oh, dat’s all right, I tell yer.” “Of course; lay everything to me.” “It was the stage carpenter,” said Harry Ken- nedy, : “and we thought you worked up the snap with Im, “Allright, Yer've got me dis time, but look out for der next time.” The matter was finished up with a segar, and a hearty laugh all arcund, after which it was allowed to rest. From Sacramento they went to Lathrop, where they performed two nights to good business, and from there to Stockton for three nights, and then to San Jose, where, at this very “tart”? opera house, they were billed for three nights also, They had heaps of fun at San Jose, and met many friends in the *“tprofesh.”’ Business was very good, and Shorty had to promise that he would return there for two or three nights with his show before he left again.for the east. San Jose is one of the brightest and most beautiful places in the United States, and is destined to be quite as large and important as San Francisco. But it was at San Jose that there happened 4 little fun that I may as well tell you about, althongh there was nothing in it that partook of the nature of the boisterous rackets they generally had. Ip was started after the performance, the last night there, and came up while speaking of the relative merits of the different pedestrians. : Gus Williams was contending that he could walk with O’Leary or any of them. ’ “You walk?” said Shorty, with a laugh. é “Yes, Iwalk. You never knew that I was a walk- ist, did you, Shortness?” 3 “I's seen yer walk up tode bar quite often, an’ I knows yer can walk up ter get yer salary when ‘der ghost walks,’ but dat’s yer best grip.” “No, sir. I have walked fifty miles without a drink,” said Gus, with his old laugh. “Den it’s cock sure dat dere warn’t no drinks near- er dan dat,’ said Shorty, at which.the crowd laughed. “What Shanks. “Tt burst up, of course, and he had to walk, That’s how he knows he can walk fifty miles,” said one of his friends: « ° 4 ’ “Yes, and that’s why he walked all that distance without a drink,” said Kennedy, and then there was another laugh. Fat “Oh, “you can’t walk for sour apples,’’ said show was you out with, Gus?’ asked Shorty. ‘ “No, they are strong enough to walk them- selves.” “I don’t see the appl-i-cation,” put in Kennedy, after a struggle. The members of the company, of course, took no notice of the atrocious pun, for they had long ago madeit a rule not fo do so, hoping to break him of his terrible habit, but the strangers present laugh- ed and cried’ “good,” which made Harry feel so oe that he at once “ordered them up” for all ands. That gang of performers lost many & drink because they refused to encourage his jokes. “T can walk yer myself, Gus,”’ said Shorty, follow- ing up the subjéct. “you? Why, I'll run a lame frog against you, Shortness,” replied Gus. “Il walk yer for money.” Oy aia make a match,” said several, who stood round, : “Well, he's just about the right size for a match if ‘ou only put a little brimstone on his head,” replied us. ‘ “But that would be a dangerous thing to do,”’ said Kennedy. iy 50 “Because he is always getting into scrapes, and might go off.’’ - “Oh, come off!” said Billy Barry. But the crowd epplagded: and several of those present said it was the best joke of the season, and again did Harry ‘‘set em up.” “Pil walk yer for shugl”” “Flow eet miles!’’ “Say yerself.”” “Til tell you what to do. We've got to lay over a day anyhow,so suppose we stay here and have a walking match; hire a hall, and have it done up in pains sail Shanks, who thought he saw fun in . “I’m yer angel,” said phony ‘Ti1 tell you what I'll do, HOE Tl walk you five miles for a hundred dollars, winner to pay for the hall, and handicap myself with the Kid.’ “Ul take the little runt on my shoulders, right straddle of my neck, and walk for the money with you, How’s that?” “ Aben’t you going it blind, Gus?” asked Billy Barry... eaten Shorty, Jr., is going to ‘straddle’ it,” said ennedy, A Beane laugh greeted this, and again did the bar- keeper string out the glasses upon the bar at Harry’s suggestion. He had at last found a gang who ap- reciated his jokes, and he was willing to pay for the uxury. : “Der yer mean it, Gus?” Stems my shug,’’ said he, pulling out a roll of ills. : *Here’s a cover for it;”” and Shorty put up his hun- dred dollars, and it was given to Shanks, who acted as stakeholder, The preliminaries of the match were then entered into, and the party broke up in the highest of spirits. The next day Shanks found a hall, and employed a civil engineer to lay out a trackinsucha way that s0 many laps made a mile, and at noon everything was ready for the commencement of the funny con- test. A large number of their personal friends were there to see the sport, and when Gus made his ap- Popes in walking costume, leading the Kid by the and, he was greeted with a big round of applause, He was looking as fine as a daisy, although a trifle too stout for a long walk, Shorty was also greeted when he put in his appear- ance in a like costume, but with more of a laugh, for lie was a comical runt, and looked about as much like a walker as a turtle does. A judge and time-keeper were Se) the par- Gallen, all stated, and the men brought up to the ine. Gus took the Kid lightly by the hand, and he lose right astride of his neck as lightly as a ird. “Now, then, this is to be a square heel-and-toe walk,’ said the Judge, ‘‘and the one making the five miles first takes the pot.” : “And if neither of them makes it, the pot goes to the gang,’’ said Shanks; and this novel proposition created a loud laugh, , “Are you ready?” “All ready.” “Then gol’? Away they started at a lively pace, and amid a cheer from all sides. “J’se got der best of dis ji¢ger, anyway,” said Shorty, Jr., who was in for a five-mile ride at all events. “Go it, ole man!” he called to his daddy. Gus shot right ahead of him, for Shorty, with his little duck legs, wasn’t a very fast walker, of course, and when Gus had accomplished a mile, he was only two-thirds through with his. But Gus was beginning to show his walk, or, rather the walk was showing on him, for with his handicap and the pace he was going, the perspiration was streaming from his body. 4 Shorty, Jr., was making all sorts of fun, and would occasionally wt 4 Gus’ face and act the part of a jockey, urging him along. ¥ “Brace up, Gus, and show yer style.” But Gus made no reply. He hadn’t any wind to spare, while Shorty was pegging away as fresh as ever. “Go it, ole man, I’m bettin’ on yer!” cried the “Go it, Shorty!” rang all over the hall. “Why is Gus Williams like a man who is nearly busted?” asked Kenndy. “Why is he?” somebody ventured. “Because he is running Short-eh?” “Shoot him!” “Put him out!” and various other cries greeted im. There was no bar in the place, and he should have known it before he ventured with a conundrum of that size, R At the end of two miles Gus was only about a quarter of a mile ahead, and showed hard work. One or two of his friends took a turn or two around the hall with him, for the purpose of encouraging him, while others did the same thing for Shorty. f ‘Don’t hurry, Gus, you have got all day before you,”’ said Billy Barry. “Yes, and he’ll soon have Shorty before him,” said Kennedy. , “Billy, take Kennedy away. One handicap is allI can stand,” said Gus, feebly. At this point they both stopped and rested for about five minutes, during which time their friends gathered around and congratulated them, after which they started again somewhat refreshed, and with the understanding that they were to be allowed to do the last mile just as they had a mind to. “Allright; I'll do mine in bed,” said Gus. “An? T1ldo mine ina row boat, with some other chap at the oars,” said Shorty. But this was a quiet racket that he had put vp with the judge and stake-holder, the reason for which will presently be seen, : At the end of the fourth mile Gus was still about a uarter of a mile ahead, and now that the judge in- ormed them that they could go as they liked, either walk, run, or trot, Gus broke into a dog trot and was loudly cheered. f Shorty, however, kept right on in his walk for a while longer, and then started on a run around the hall, making a very good show, because he could run better then he could walk. \ And there was something he could do better than either one, and when he had nearly caught up with Gus, who was now badly winded,he gave a whoop-la! and throwing himself over on his Hands, he began turning ‘cart wheels,” spinning over and over and going twice as fast as he could run, , Gus protested, but it was no use. He had a right to do it just as he liked. Shorty kept up this comical movement until he had got ahead of Gus, and then landing on his feet once more he started at a brisk run, coming im the winner by five laps, or nearly a quarter of a mile. The hall rang with applause, and Shorty’s friends | p gathered around him with their congratulations, while he puffed and regained his wind. ius, of course, stopped when Shorty was hailed as winner, and after a growl about not agreeing to walk against a cart-wheel, he retired in disgust. OSS eee ——oooe The affair created lots of fun in San Jose, and the next morning they alltook the train for San Fran- cisco, where they were to play two weeks, and where Shorty would be near Oakland, the home of the mys- terious dwarf hermit, whom he wasso anxious te see, CHAPTER XXY. Sxorty and his company arrived in San Francisco all right, after the walking match between himself and Gus Williams at San Jose, in which he man- aged, by a sharp trick of his} to come in a winner, Here they were at last in the great city of the Golden Horn; a larger city, according to its years, possessed of more beauty and romance, and more nationalities than any city in the world. They were billed to play two weeks at the Bush street theater, and ag they always went to the front in everything, so they put up at the Palace Hotel,and prepared not only tolgive the ’Friscoans all the fun they wanted, but to have, as usual, aS muchas they could squeeze out of the place for themselves, One or two of the company had been there before, and of course acted as guides for those who had not, and in order to get at the fun and interest of the place, a person must be well acquainted with it, or follow some one who is. That night they were greeted by an overflowing house, and every member of the combination putin his or her best licks to sustain their reputation and make good for succeeding nights, And they succeeded as usualin making a hit,send- ing the people away in the best of spirits, and secur- ing first-rate notices in all the papers next morn- ng. t In this connection Shorty managed to have a per- sonal notice published in the’ San Francisco Call, wherein the mystery of his birth and his’ successful career was dwelt upon ina half serious’ manner, making a very readable story. in ‘fhe reader will remember that he had seen an ar- ticles in‘a Kansas City paper, from .a correspondent in San Francisco, in which the romance of a rich old dwarf residing in Oakland was’ given, and whic awakened much interest in Shorty’s mind.: vay True, the fun and mischief that he-had»been en- gaged in since then had partially knocked the senti- mentality out of his head, but still ie had kept the matter entirely to himself, and now that he was so near Oakland, this was his object in having the piece published, hoping it to meet the old man’s eye and thus pave the way to an acquaintance between them; and to make sure of its reaching him, he directed a marked copy of the paper to him, after which he al- lowed matters to rest for awhile. t ‘Dis dad business,” he mused, ‘is der wus I ever tried ter climb. Wonder if I'll ever find der ole rooster, anyway? Wonder if lever had a ddd? Well, if dis ole duffer don’t pan out well, I'll feel all broke up an’ jes’ like a poor orphan.” The uext day was spent by all hands in visiting places of interest in and around the city, and an ex- cursion down the bay was planned for the follow- ing, They fonnd a large number of friends and ac- quaintances in the city, and there was one continual round of pleasure jndulged in day after day, “Why is this city like a certain fancy drink?” ask- ed Harry Kennedy, one day, ‘ “Now hold on, Harry. You have dene very well since We have) been here, but don’t presuine upon our forbearance on that account,”’ said Shanks, “Oh, that’s all right,’’ said Harry. “But why is’ this city like:a certain fancy drink?” — . ¥ “Well, why is it?” asked Gus Williams. “Because it has a Branch (0’) Mint in it.” iy They were standing in the bar-room of the ‘‘Ari- on,” at the tine this outrage was perpetrated, but instead of throwing tumblers, bottles, and chairs at him, they all turned sadly on their heels and walked away from him. One would naturally think that these continued re- buffs would haye choked him off, but in spite of everything, Harry would have what he was pleased to call his little joke. ein Five or six of them visited the Chinese quarters to- gether and beheld this remarkable people in all the glory of their native squalor and beastliness; and to @ stranger it is a very interesting Biihonen repulsive sight, for these strange people, although temperate, industrious, and saving, and in many respects quite as ingenious as any people in the world, yet social- ly they are but little above the grade of cattle, living huddled up in little rookeries, a dozen sometimes in 2 room not large enough for one, and in a state of filth that is revolting to decency. Shorty was full of his fun, and to tell the truth,the Chinese were almost as much interested in him as hé was in them; and as he passed along through the narrow streets on which they live, they would Jaugh and talk in their own language, and evidently re- garded him as a natural curiosity, ae ‘Why are these people like good actors?” asked Kennedy, turning to Shorty. tka Pal “Now, Harry, hold on. I'll give you one more chance if-you’ll cork up, eh?” seed “Oh, this is a bully conundrum,” é “Ask old pigtail over there,” suggested Billy Barry, pointing to a Chinaman who was ironing some clothes in front of his ‘‘washee-washee” house across the way. - “ “No—no, there’s a law agaist killing Chinamen,” ut in Gus. : Res “Oh, it ‘won’t hurt him any more than it would , 7 “But they might rise up and drive us out of their quarters if he should tackle them with one of hie conundrums,”
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. St “Oh, give him a chance; he hasn’t got off one of «ais ‘good things’ ter-day,” said Shorty. ‘‘Why are they like good actors, Harry?” . _ “Because they always take their—cues, see?’ he replied, referring to their pigtails, properly called queues. “Great!” “Immense!” “A perfect staggerer!” said the gathered around him, shaking his gratulating on his effort, “Didn’t I tell you it was good?” he asked, proud- ang, and they and and con- ly. : Yupne best conundrum I ever heard—in the Chinese quarters,” said Gus. 3 “Washee—washee?” asked the Chinaman before referred to, as Shorty approached him. “Nixy—nixy, ole pig tail,” replied Shorty, “How’s biz?’ asked Gus, while the others gather- ed around to see the Celestial iron, “Heap hunkly. Good washee, you, me?” “Take your pay iu rats?” “Rattee belly good, so be,” said he, “D’ve got a fat pup I'd like to exchange for washee —washee.” , “Heap flunny.” “No; this is our funny man,” said he, turning to Kennedy. ‘He car make a horse laugh—let him try it on you.” Meantime several Chinamen and women had gathered around to see the strangers, some having things to sell, and others offering to shave them or pare their corus. In fact, whenever there is a cent to be made, you may bet your boots that the China- man is on hand to make it. But none of the gang cared to patronize them, al- though several of them gave pennies and bits to them for the sake of hearing their lingo, or to see them do something, and in a very short time they be- came great objects of interest to the Chinamen, and yet were getting their money’s worth in fun out of them. “Say, ole. washee-washee,” said Shorty, address- ing the ironer, “lemme iron one of them duds; I'm boss at it.” ; F “Me no; spoil; makee damee bad all same likee Melican damee foolee.”” “Git out! Here—here’s a dollar for yer if I spoil anything,” and he handed it to him. ‘ he sight of a dollar, more than he could earn in two days, was too much for him, and so with a Celestial a he handed him the flatiron to experi- ment with, - ; coed Shorty seized it and began to go over the shirt ata ,lively.rate, cheered on by the others and creating much laughter among the Chinamen who stood around, and such a chattering and gesticulating as they kept up was a sight for a comic artist. But Shorty was raising the mischief with Hi-Ho’s ironing: by his wild and erratic movements, and he began to fear that he would get more than his dollar’s worth afterall, so he got closer to him asif to restrain him.<v2 8 «9 ’ $ But whenever he placed his hand on the ironing table, Shorty would poke it with the hot iron, caus- ing him to jump and say something in Chinese, which in turn made his neighbors laugh all the louder, “Hellee,*holee lon! Allee sploil!”” yelled Hi-Ho, dancing-around in alarm, and trying to get Shorty to, give up the iron, ; faites “Yer be hung, ole pig-tail; guess I know der biz; and just then he ran the ironagainst a dish of starch, knocking it from the table, = Hi-Ho stooped to pick it np, when Shorty placed the hot iron upon his stern, causing him to leap about ten feet in the air, and yell seventeen kinds of bloody murder. 2 ‘“Hellee cussee! hellee damee! oh—oh—oh!” he cried, rubbing himself. with both hands, and dancing aboub. 4 ! ; _ Aperfect roar of laughter went up. “What's der matter? Givin’ us some Chinese cir- cus?” asked Shorty. “‘What’s der matter?” “leap hellee! oh—oh—oh! Gible lion,” he added, taking the flat-iron from the little joker. “Me ” nei Ah,whal's der use gettin’ mad wid a little orphan like me?” - ; “Go debel! me no,” said Hi-Ho, again resuming his ironing with one hand, while with the other he still rubbed Khe place where Shorty had put®in the work on his person. Bar then, yer won't go?_ Well, I s’pose I shall have ter go without yer, but I hate to part company with yer, forl know der devil would like ter have yer along.” : ‘ ‘Heap smartee, makee damee lass, so be, groaned he Chinaman, .. . : Gecpeneert he was only doing it in Melican style,” said Gus. , % : “Me gittee diolar, So be, said Hi Ho, and a smile of triumph stole over his face, evidently obliterat- ing all thoughts. of Paw : Well, they went al through that curious quarter of the city, picking up any quantity of fun. In fact, it lasted them until nearly dark, by which time they had played so many tricks on the Chinamen that they became indignant, and, finally, arming them- selves with wash-boards, flat-irons, etc., they banded together and charged upon the gang, driving. them out of the quarter on the double-quick, The Kta. had jumped out of his coat when one of them seized him, and was running like a little suck- er, while a, wash-board boarded horty.on the star- board side of his nut, and things were as lively as a country circus. - : atta “Go te Gad: but if the devil takes der hindniost, I’s gone, sure!” cried he, Vers One of the irate Celestials was close upon Shorty, and was about to mash him with a wash-board, when he turned and butted him head-over-heels into the mud, after which he gained on them a little; but if the police hadn't gone to the rescue, the af- fair would not have turned out half so funny as it began, They gave Chinatown a wide berth after that, you et. Nothing of particular importance happened that night at the theater, with the exception of a “‘bang- up” house and a first-class performance; but on their assembling at the “Arion” they found a crowd who liad been to the show, and were full of life and laughter. There was one manin the company who attracted their attention, for he was a character, such a one as is never seen anywhere but in California, He was a gold miner, and had evidently “struck it rich” lately, and was full of fun and money, which, et made him a great favorite in a place like this. He was a regular out-and-outer, and no mis- 2. : He had been to the show and was full of his talk about it, and when Shorty and the gang entered the piece atl were pointed out to him, he nearly upset himself, “Waal, by thunder’n lightnin’!” said he, “if them ere little cusses as played on them banjos an’ cut up so arn’¢ jist the rats of all creation, yer bet. Won- der if they won’t drink.” Wouldn't they! Ina few moments the stalwart miner was on good terms with them all, and what was best of all, he actually roared at Kennedy’s jokes, and treated all hands as well. F “Waal, smash my rocker if it arn’t durned curious how yer can chuck yer voice ‘round ther way yer do,” said he. f “Oh, it’s the easiest thing in the world. All you have to do is to practice,” said Harry. “Yer don’t say sol’’. ’ “Fact.” “Waal, Is’pose so; but I reckon as how life's too cussed short ter take all that yer need if Natur don’t do anything for yer,” said he, laughing. Again they “smiled” and laughed over the miner’s enthusiasm. “An’ asfor you, yer little runt,” said he, turning to Shorty, mines.”” “Where are you located?” asked Gus, “Whar am I what?” he asked, quickly. “Located.” “Tork itin United States, mister; I’m a regular, butI never panned out much on foreign tork.” “Well, what I mean is, where is the place; the claim that you have been working.” “Oh, now I strike gravel. Waal, I’m ’way u in the moustains; up im a place they call Back,” said he. “Good place?” “Waal, yes. We do only one thing agin it, _ “What's that; no dust there?” prone bless yer, thar’s lots of dust thar, but it’s up so high. : ‘Real estate is high there, eh?” put in Kennedy. “Ffo-ho-ho!” laughed the miner, In fact,he laughed so heartily, that Harry was on the point of asking everybody up to take a drink. “No, this’s mine,” said the miner. “Because you are a miner,” said Harry, and again did the minerroar. ~ : “Darn my eyes if yer arn’t the alfiredist lot of jokers ever [seen. Come up an’ wet yer clay! Come up, everybody!”’ he yelled, with a voice that could have been heard a mile. ‘I only wish I had ther whole darned lot of yer up in the Hog’s Back. “How high is this Hog'’s Back?” asked Gus. “High! waal, now, mister, lar’n’t no church mem- ber, an’ maybe yer won’t believe what I tell yer. It’s up in ther Sierras.” ATR “Well, how high de you it is? “*Bout twelve miles,” sal he, soberly. ¢ “What! Oh, you mean it is about twelve miles from here there.” an “No. Why, it’s a hundred an’ fifty. “But you cannot mean that Hog’s Back, where you here og’s pretty wefl up thar. Thar’s have been mining, is twelve miles above the Javel of the sea?” * “Waal, I don’t know nothin’ "bout the level of the sea, but it’s nigh onter twelve miles high, for sure.” = “Nonsense; that’s higher than any mountain in the world, my dear sir.” “Waal, that’s nothin’ ter me, I’m only torkin’ *bout Hog’s Back.” t “Never knew a hog to get his back up so high as that before,”’ said Kennedy. “But only think of it, my dear Christian friend. A person could not breathe at such an altitude as twelye miles,” said Gus. ; “Couldn’t breathe?” “No, the rarity of the air would be so great that a person could not live.” 1 “That tork’s higher nor Hog’s Back, stranger; least wise it’s too high for me.” ‘Don’t you understand me?” “Bust my rocker if Idol” ‘ ‘What I mean is, thatatsuch a hight as twelve miles, the air would be so thin thata person conld not breathe it, and it would not sustain life.” “Oh! Waal, itis putty thio, yer bet.” “So is that story,’ said Billy Barry, aside. “Flow thin is it?’ r “Waal, it’s so thunderin’ thin that yer have ter fan it inter a corner when yer want ter get a square breath.” _ ef This, of course, produced a rousing laugh, “T only wish we had yer down in our’ “Then, of course, you have no clouds up there?’” suggested a gentleman standing near. “Oh, yes, we Jo; heaps of ’em.” “T don’t understand it.” “Waal, I don’t, but it’s Gospil. Maybe yer don’t be- lieve me, jus’ *cos I’m unfortunate enough not to be @ church member; but I’m givin’ yer a little history now. Yer see, ve got a cave in ther side of the mountain whar I live, an’ many times when I home I have ter push a big cloud away from the front door afore Ican git in. Fact.” That took the cake, and amid a wild burst of Jaugh- ter, Shorty headed the gang, and shook the miner sol emnly by the hand, as did the others, “Mr, Man, yer der boss,” said Shorty. “Dat takes der flapjack,” said the Kid, “My dear sir, I believe every word you say. You have no occasion to belong'to a church. You are good enough without it,” said Gus. “The belt belongs to you, sir,” added Shanks, who, like the others, shook his hand solemnly. “The cake is yours,” put in Billy Barry, I “Tsay, you may be a miner by occupation, but you are of age in this matter,” said Kennedy; and so they all shook hands with him, at the same time making some complimentary remark. . “Boys, I’se much cL Aer ter yer for yer good feel-: in’s. I war brung up all right if I don’t move in ther best society. But I am awful sensitive like, an’ this touches me. Now if phate said they didn’t b’lieve it, or that it was a cussed lie, why, I should ha’ felt so bad that I'd had ter flog somebody,” said he, with a show of feeling. SPL nh “And it would serve them right,” said Gus.. “That’s ther kind of a kyotelam. Now éverybody come up an’ wet ther gravel,” he added, seeing him- self among so many friends, : “Are there no other drawbacks to Hog’s Back?’* asked Shanks, i 9 “Waal, yes; thar’s one more drawback,” said the miner, after a moment's reflection. « “What is that?” ‘ “We lack blastin’ powder,” 14 t , ee to work in the seams in order to get at the gold, eh? ; , “No; the gold’s all right. .Wecan get at that easy enough; but it pans out'in such dreadful big lumps that we can’t get it away, an’ if we only had powder we could bust ’em up so we could carry ’em—see?” “Wel, that isa drawback, and no mistake. Just about ruins the place, Ipresume?” —, ; “Never’ll ’mount ter much till powder gets more plenty,” said the truthful miner, - : This was the straw that broke the camel’s back; and after shaking hands again, they took leave of him and went to their hotel, laughing and talking over the matter allthe while, but yoting that. this guileless miner was the boss liar of the world. On arriving at the hotel, they found the clerk and several of their friends talking le over an event that was to take place there tiie following af- ternoon, being no less than the marriage ofan old bachelor by the name of Lord, who was @ boarder a5 the hotel. : ; , TI There were several elements ‘of fun in the affair, and his friends were discussing them whenthe gang arrived, for the old fellow was a general favorite; and when it became known that he was about to put his head into the matrimonial noose, after having re- sisted it so long, it created both surprise and inter- est. J $ ‘ : The lady whom he was. about'to marry was what might be termed an old maid, having sought in vain for a mate until the “mate” was nearly off her bones, but having lately inherited quite a handsome fortune,- the’old man Lord was the first to see her good points and to propose marriage. 14 ; This of course awakened a lively interest, and it was resolved not only to give hima good send: off; but it was also understood that if some sort of a rack-; et could be played on him, it would be well received, by his friends, at least. : } Shorty listened to it all, and asthe ‘thing suite bim to a dot,he came to the front and’ suggested thi there would be fun at that wedding. t CHAPTER XXVI._ Tux marriage of old Bachelor Lord, spoken of in the preceding chapter, as to take place the next af- ternoon in the parlors of the Palace ' Hotel, where Shorty and/his gang wore also stopping, was more than an ordinary affair. ; # Mr. Lord, a dead ripe old bachelor, who had all his life been one of the boys, and not one to be caught by any of the husband- fishers, was to: marry Miss Snickers, an angular female of an uncertain age, who would always have been Miss Snickers if. she had not inherited a snug fortune at last, which so changed her “figure” that Mr, Lord thought it se- perb, and at once proposed matrimony. He was tolerably ‘well fixed” himself, but he prob- ably concluded that the two fortunes joined together would be much better than one, and so arrange- ments were made for the wedding. ¢ Shorty*had often seen the old fellow, and ene there was fun in it, and fun expected by the old fel { low’s friends, took it upon bimself:to) work a racket on him,” And the wedding was to be no slouch of an affair, either, for the old fellow was not only a high liver himself, but, whenever an opportunity. presented. it- self, he was sure to ‘set ’em up” high for his friends; and what greater opportunity would he ever have for a “spread” than on his wedding day. So he gave orders to have the affair bang up in every re- spect, : Ro And just bang up it was. About a hundred invitations were sent out, and at the appointed time the parlors were crowded with
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38 SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. a a eS SSeS his male and female friends, and a jelly, solid lot they were, toe, being some of the best te be found in San Francisco, Mr. Lotd and the bride were waiting in one of the side rooms off from the parior, ready when the mas- ter of ceremonies should inforn: him of the minister's: arrival, to walk into the main parlor, where the cere- mony wasto take place. © Finally all was in readiness, and he led forth his blushing, timid bride, The gay old bachelor was going at last, and a smile rested on tne faces of his friends, But some of them were smiling “louder” than oth- ers, on what acconut will preseutly be seen, They stood up before the minister to face the mat- rimonial music, when there was a slight commotion near the door, and Shorty and the Kid, Shorty, uid dressed like two little schoolboys, walked into the ving. ¢ “Oli, papa, please don’t,” whined Shorty, rubbing his eyes, while both bride and groom, as well as his friends, started up in astonishment, “Don’t ges, married, papa, for mama says you mustn’t,"? blubbered the Kid. “Oh, ah!’® exclaimed the bride,.and she flapped over fainting in the bridegroom’s arms, “Don't do ir, papa,” whined Shorty, while the Kid boohoo’d right out. ; ' “What is the meaning of this?” demanded the min- ister, “I thought you were.a bachelor.” “Good Heavens, I—I don’t know,’ stammered poor Lord, while great beads of sweat started out allover his face. » Uy»: ! . “Too thin, old man—too thin!” replied several who were in the conspiracy. ; “Come home with us, papa, mama wants yer,” moaned Shorty. who was acting his part admirably. “Whoare you?’ he finally mustered the courage to deniand. od a “Yer know who welis, papa.» “Go away; I don’t know you.” “Too thin—too thin!” choruged the jokers. “I cannot perform the ceremony until this matter ia cleared up,’’ said the minister, taking a seat a lit- tle way off. py eae : , “Shame—shame!” cried several of the lady guests. “Burl assure youthat f——” . 1 Just then Mis3 Suiskers revived, and broke in upon his explanations, , 4 , “Oh, you horrid; deceiving wretch! Will some- body take liim away from me!” she cried, trying to disengage herself from poor Lord, . “Buty ny dear——” ‘ f , “Don’t dear me, sir, don’t dare to dosuch a thing, you horrible old creature you,”’ and breaking away, she ran into the adjoining room, followed by the bridegroom and several of her friends. } “ffoopla, how’s dat for bustin’ up a weddin’, hey ?” asked Shorty, suddenly changing his whole ap- pearance, as also did the Kid, and dancing two or three bars of a breakdown, after which they darted from the parlor and were soon lost to sight. Awild shout of laughter followed, not only from, those who were jin the racket, but from the others, as they all saw at once that it was only a joke that had been played, , F Even the minister laughed heartily, and followed the perplexed couple for the purpose of explaining matters... F $e Phish But this it took him some time to do, so indignant and mortified was the bride, and so utterly nonpluss- ed the groom, » He soon: ‘ecognized, the handy work of several of his chums, however, and mentally re- solved to get even with them. ; Nearly an hour elapsed before they faced the min- ister, and even then they were. both in a very ner- yous condition, 44 , But they made a go of it that time, and the matri- monial ktiot was tied before anything else could hap- pen, after which they received the congratulations of their laughing friends. ; “Oh, il get good and square with you fellows for that trick,” said he, as he shook hands with the ho- tel clerk and several others who laughingly sur- rounded him, “What the dence had we to do with it?’ they all asked, looking honest anu innocent, “IN bet you a basket that you put up the job. Who were those little rascals?” “Why, you tieard what they said,” * “Ob, that'sall right. Where the devil did yon find two boys who coitld act their parts. so well? that’s whot I waht to know.” | whe But all theireply he got, was another big langh all around, and so he conciuderd. to let the matter drop for the time being and attend to his new-made wife, That afternvon, after the wediing banquet, they started off on a short wedding trip, leaving the jokers dehind to laugh and tell the story until nearly every- body in San Francisco knew it, and it was even the talk of the town when they returned, a fortnight af- terwards,) Bub Shorty and the Kid got ont of it all right, as nsual, and it was_a long time afterwards that Lord Jearned whe the clever ‘children were, whoso near- ly broke up his wedding. f And during: th» time’they were doing a rushing business in the show line, the theater being nacked every niglit. "Frisco ts one of the best “show towns” [© in-the world, and when a bang-up performance visits the place, they co away with a bag full of money, After beconwing acquainted with the city, they all voted it to be the finest in the land, and nearly every day some member of the truupe had a pleasant ad- venture of some kind or other, Harry Kennedy and Gus Williams were walking out one day when they came upon a Chinaman who nad just killed a calf and was on the point of dress- ngit, ob ned ft “Let's havo some fun with him?” said Harry. j ; . “All right,” replied Gus, who was never known to be backward for any such a thing, And so they pp aruached the Chinaman, who was doing his butchering right on the street, and stood liear by as two ordinary spectators of such a scene might have done, “Killee?” asked Gus, ‘ noe be,” replied thie Chinaman, sharpening his nife. Allee dead?” There was no reply to this treatment, but Harry at once prepared himselt to continue the fun, so when the Chinaman ayain attempted to skin the calf, he again made the head bleat, and it sounded just the right distance away. © This was too much for the butcher, and dropping his kuife, he started ona run to catch up with his frightened countrymen, yelling ‘“Ying-ye!l” at the Lop of his voice: arry and Gus walked away, laughing at the fun they had had, and so long as they remained in sight, the Chinaman had not ventured back to the dead calf again. Howit ever eventuated, they never ee but it made lots of fun for themselves and riends. And at another time Harry and Shorty were out seeing the sights, when they happened upon an old Trishwoman who had a fish stand near the market. Harry went for her. - “Are these salmon fresh? he asked. “Yer roight they are, Tuck out o’ the wather only yesterday,” said she.” ‘ “Oh, what alie! We've been here a week!” one of the salmon seemed to say. The woman leaped back about seemed completely broken up. ‘Do you hear what they say?” asked Harry. “Howly mothec!” she exclaimed, hastily crossing herself. ‘Did they spake?” “Well, [ thought so.” “Be jabers, take the whole lot for nothing; I'm done,” and she started away'as fast as her two big feet would carry her, while Harry and Shorty walk- ed ro a poultry stand, ‘ “fresh? asked Harry, pointing to a chicken that looked suspiciously blue, . “Oh, yes; that’s a fine chicken,” said the man, “Only killed yesterday.” . 5 ‘ He's lying like thunder! We've been here so long that we stink!” one of the chickens seemed to say, whereat the dealer's hair arose on end until itpushed his hat off. __ “Let's get out of this,’ said Shorty. ‘No talsin’ hens for me.” pect “Me neither,” and away they went, leaving that wonder-stricken ponltry dealer to ecover the best he could, and sell ont his stock for whatever lre could get. Butit completely cured him of lying. Rene them, and three yards, and asa miracleand 6 TRETINOIN Ra, a aa la aa oct i TS a i ET A oe a Ot we ES a et eh et i ee a as Se Tin In the meantime Shorty had been at work with a detective to get at the old dwarf recluse’ Nving’ in wee and whom he strongly suspected wight be nis dad. ‘ ’ 5% The detective had been over to reconnoiter and seo if he could get at the old man, but had been unable to ag be and now the question was, how should they work it “He has got three or four dogs that are as.savage as the very devil, and I liear he has an ugiy habit of covering people with a shot gun who approach his house,” said the detective. i : “Pil tell yer how we'll work it,” said Shorty. “How?” “We'll pet somebody who can throw a lasso, You'u Vl go an’ shoot der dogg when they come out, an’ when der_ ole reoster comes out wid his shotgun, have this chap cover him wid der lasso; ges him on astring.”” * z t “Oh, nonsense! Why, we eould all be arrested for such a high handed outrage as that, don't you know.” “Well, all right.” “All rghiet? ; “Yes, I’ve got der shug ter get out all righs, an’ maybe that'll be der only way we can get at der ole duffér, for if he ‘rests us, hell have ter show up, and den I'can interview him. See? ‘ “It would be a hazardous undertaking.” © “All right. Take three or four fellows along an’ swear he tried ter shoot us,” “Well, if you will brace up to it, I'll get the fellows to work it up.” “Good "hough, Go ahead.” iy And so it was arranged to lasso the old feltow,after which he was to proceed to find out whether he was his dad or not. » eg ISS But béfore the affair was perfected in all its de- tails, the engagement of the troupe had been con- cluded, and a rest'of a week was’ entered upon, this being agreed upon beforehand, as the reader will Ke=: meniber, j Well, one day the party was made up to Zo ever to Oakland (just a few miles from San Francisco across Bu) bay) for the purpose of capturing thé old her mit, . . - But Shorty had taken particular jel to keep the whole thing from his company, for he ‘had been ‘rigged’ enough on his dad business, and 8@ nobopy knew of the expedition. CARR Be : The detective acted as guide, and led ‘them direct- ly to the house, a little stone affair, standing back: two or three rods from the road and pretty well hid- den by trees.’ It was a lonesomeé-looking place, but Shorty was bound to make it ‘lively for a little while at least. , one A careful reconnoisance’ was first’ made, and the man with the lasso was stationed’ where! hé could: string the old fellow just as Soon as he made Hiis ap- pearance, whilé the others stationed themselves.in a bunch near the front gate. % igs * Everything being ready, Shorty fired one chamber of his revolver to attract the attention of the in~ mates, / yee: pie ; ; ; Nor bated he long in doing so, for hardly had the echoes of the shot died away before: three big ugly dogs eame barking and tearing fromthe Louse, an madedirectly forthecrowd,. = But half-a-dozen revolvers were out, and a shot or two from each crippled the dogs, and they skulked yelping ont of sight. The next thing on the programme. was the appear. ance of thie little old hermit. Ont he came, shot-gun: in hand, and espying the gang; who instantly began to scatter to escane the scattering shot, he up. gun, and would have fired had not the noose of a lasso at that instant settled over his. neck, and pulled him over.backward. ‘ . It was a complete success so far, and before the old fellow could get himself ont of the predicament he was in, three or four of them had pounced upon him, disarmed and bound him so that he could do nh farther harm, " ‘ “Help—hélp—help!” he shouted, ‘Here, ‘Turk, here, Bloody, here, Lion!” he called, to his dogs, for he had no idea of giving in. “ j “Oh, your dogs have got all they want,” said the detective. . “What do you mean?” he asked, in oA ala aint f with anger; “are yourobbers? Do you come here to rob me?” “No. What do you mean?” “By what?” ? “Allowing your ravage dogs to pounce Upon strane gers who may happen to pass your house, “You are rebbers—trespassers!” , “We are neither.” “How came you here, then?” ; “We were siinply passing along to see the country, ahd chancing to fire at a bird on a tree by the side of the road,were attacked by your ferocious dogs.’* “Th is false’? “Tt is true; and when you were on the point of fir ing upon us a handy lasso brought you dewn, Lam an officer of the law, sir,” said the deteative, display- ing his shield, , Shorty had during the time been intently watching the queer little old man, and had taken uo part in the Kusiness, but now hie caine right to the froat, | Hie go light on him; he’s an old man,” he said, indly. ’ The hermit turned to look at him. ‘There was eer tainty considerable resetublance| between them which they all observed. f Bie 2) j pee do you intend to do with me?” hé presently asked, gu EY “Nothing tf you will apologize for your assault up- on us,’ said the detective, “Never!” Bist “Then I shall have to arrest you.”
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“Arrest me? I thought you were ‘obbers,and had @ pertect right to assaulé you.” “Tye law will not excuse you, sir,” j “Ol, les up on him, officer. Of course he thought we were robbers,” said Shorty, “Yes, and Vil make you all smart for this piece of business, see if I don’t,” said he. “You had better try it,” “Tsay, pop, what der yer think of me?” asked Shorty, throsting his thumbs inty the armholes of his vest and standing before him, “Think of you? Why, that you are just as bad as any of ’em,and that you are aset of ruffians,”’ he snarled, “Did you ever have a kid?” “A what?” “Did yer ever liave a son an’ lose him?” “Never, you littla scoundrel. What do you mean by such a question?" he demanded, “Well, ny name’s Sliorty; dat's all der name L know for myself, an’ lm lookin’ fer my dad, Been all over der country fur him, an’ as yer jist fill der bill, aqtoushs I'd ask yer, dat’s all. Are yer cock sure . The old fellow was silent for a moment, and kept his eye fastened ou Shorty. “Where did you coe from?” he asked, finally. “New York.” : “How old are you?” . “Give it up. Between thirty and forty, I guess.” “And you don’t kuow who you are?” “Nix; der yer?” “T have a strong suspicion,” said the old hermit; But he didn’t look a bit loving as he said it. “Who am Li’ t q “Onbind me first.” r: “Bus will you be peaceable toward us?” asked the officer.) art 3 x ‘ ; /“Of course I will, Whatcan an old.man do in the esence of so many arnied rufians?”” ~ And while they were unbinaing him, hiskeen black eyes seemed to burn into every face as though he ‘wished toremeniberthem, — — “Where can I see you to-morrow?” he asked of Shorty ees : “At der Palace Hotel, Frisco, Call for Shorty.’’ | “Pi call for him,” said’ hey turning toward his house, and waving them away. | ; 5 4 ‘ GHAPTER XXVIL. Suorry returned from Oakland, where he and his party had captured the litule old hermit whom he strongly suspected was his dad, back to San Francis- co, with feelings which can better be imagined than described. © Cire Boia r Never before had he Had such an adventure as this one had been, and never before had he met with a person who seemed so much like himself as the dwarf hermit did; and by the time he had reached ‘Prisco, he had almost made up his mind that he‘had found his father, although the meeting between them that had been arranged for the following day at the Palace Hotel, would possibly determine it. On his arrival he paid the men whom he had em-- ployed, and enjoining secrecy upon them, ‘he retired to hemor with the detective, where, over a bottle of wine, they discussed the situation and the proba- bilities. The detective had ly this time, of course, become familiar with Shorty’s history, and so they talked and talked. The members of his company were all laying, off for a week’s rest, and were enjoying themselves very moc preparatory to going upon the road again on their homeward trip, and a jolly good time they were having all around, ; » Shorty, however, was dead in earnest about the business of finding his dad, now that the prospect seemed so bright, and took but little notice of what his friends were doine. He was too much in earnest abont it to care for fun, and kept as much away froin the gang as possible. The next day, atthe appointed hour, Mr, Burwick. the hermit miser. appeared at the hotel, although he was not alone. On the contrary, he had a court offi- cer with him wilie had warrants for the arrest of asked aud several others who had helped capture him the day before, © “What's this? asked the detective,who had braced upto Shorty all through, - : Row came you in this-stew, Harry? asked the court officer, eal tea SLs dhe Ca “Why, it’s regular,” replied he, “Nixey. The old man's got you all dead down. Go hard with you, I'm *fraid.” “{ don’t care, My man's got shug, we can inske out a good case.” iB “AN right, But you know how it is, I’ve got to take you in?” “Oh, of course, “Go ahead.” 4 While this was going on, Shorty and the indig- nant little old hermit miser stood looking a each other. . “Got yer back up, old man?" asked Shorty. “Yes, and Vil send yon wp, never fear, If you think you can play your rowdy jokes on me, Tl show you that you can’t, Officer, take them in,’ he added, turning to the pompous fellow who accom- _panied hing, “Where yer goin’ ter scoop us ter?” “T alall be obliged to take you before a police jus- tice over to Onkland,” replied the efficer, *t¥ea, and if he don't give you six months he’s a fraud,” piped the miser, “Say, ole duf, Pl bet yer ten ter one he don’t give us six tonths,”? said Shorty, placing his thumbs ia the arinholes ef his vest, and swaggering up to him, “Ab! possibly you think’ that you have money enongh to get you ous of it, but Pd have you kuew that T ean pub down dollars for your cents all day and besides, | Not much, | Oakland before one of the police justices, there to SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. long; Iam bound to have justice. my place, and raised the very devil; killed and wounded my dogs, lassoed me, and had things all your own way for awhile. front, and we will see who laughs lasc, in, officer,” “Better send for your friends, Shorty,”’ said the de. teclive, “Allright, ’i——” He started te go in search of Shanks. “Hold on! Stop hin, officer!” said the old miser, “Give the little fellow a chauce.” “A chancel Did they give m6 a chance Don't let iim go.” ‘Vil go with him. Where do you want to go?” he asked, of Shorty. “Oh, only ter see my pard.” “Where is he?’ ced “Round here somewhere.” “Allright. Come along,” and he and Shorty start- ed for the bar-roon. = Heré he found Shanks and several other members of the gang, and taking him aside, he told him in as few words as possible all about the affair, and that he Was now under arrest, and was about to be taken be- fore a police magistrate, + Shanks was taken aback, but of course he braced right up to his runty partner and had the money with him tosee any sort of a game and go one or two better on ic. But the other fellows got wind of it and followed along to see how the old thing would work, and iti ‘two hours from then the whole party was over in Take them yesterday? answer to the charge of assault with intent to do bodily harm and commit robbery. The hearing was before the justice who had issued the warrant, and the plaintiff! was the first.of course, to tell his version of. the story, It conformed «in general with the particulars of the case as given in the preceding chapter, although he gave it a very high sensational coloring. Then the justice turned to Shorty. “Well charge? j “Der old rooster’s off,” said Shorty. “He's what?” ; “He's gone crooked.” “Explain yourself, sit’? |. “Weil, jedge, I'll tell yer all *bout if; I’m Shorty.” “Oh, you aré, eh? éll, Lshould say your soubri- fede tit t wax well taken.” tess, [ believe?” ’ 35h what have you got to say to this “Yer’ve heard of me, eh, “You are in the show bus “Dat’s me, jedge,”” “Well, what has that to do with the unprovoked assault which you perpetrated upon this peaceable old man?”. ; es “Jedge,we didn’t ’saulé him, an’ I’ve got witnesses here ter prove it, We came over ter Oakland ter see der place an’ take a little airin’; we had guns wid us an’ occasionally took apop at things we see flyin’ ‘round, and when we got near dis ole rooster’s slie- bang we Ree off, and out came his dogs ter chaw on us, Now, jedge. yer know dat we arn’tno dog meat, jJedge, an’ so we pulled out our guns an’ peg- ged at dem bloody kioodles, We fetched ’em, in self-tefense, mind yer, an’ den out came his nibs wid ashotgun ter go gunnin’ for us, see? Well, one of der gang he had a long shoe string what yer call it, rare an’ he caught der old duffer on der fly; dat’s all, “It is false, judge, They tried te make it out that they were in fun after they bad got me down and half strangled,” said the plaintiff. _ 4 “OF course we didn’t want ter hurt der ole Junatic after we felt sure dat he couldn’t hurt us,” said Shorty. “Did they rob you?” asked the justice. “No; but I think their errand was to kill my dogs, so that they could get at me at some future time, said he, “Nixy, jedge—nixy. Shorty. “What did they say to you?” ' “One of them—this ruffian here,” said he, pointing to the detective. “attempted to make me believe that he was at officer.” : “And so I am,” said the detective, showing his shield to the judge. . *“Solsee. Well, what else did they do?” “Well, this little rascal, he aaa to make be- lieve that I was his fatier,” said t sharply at Shorty, i “What did you mean by that?” asked the judge, “Well, jedze, Dl tellyer. Ima double an’ tivist- ed orphan, Iwas found; I don’t know as Lever had a dad, but it strikes me dat I must have had one some tine, an’ far der last year I've been trying ter find him. I’s well fixed, jedgze, an’ I guess allsay ’mnoslouch, Istarted ont on et wid one of der best co der backs behind a curtai Der ole man’s off,” said 16 dwarf, looking der boys’! is last rack- mpanies dat ever humped nu. Butl went more for ter find my dad den anything else, for my pile of shug is solid. I've struck many leads, bnt dey didn’t pan out good, an’ when Iseen dis old duffer, 1 thought Ta pump him ter see what he had ter if he’d fil der bills dat’s all, jedge,” “But, judge, think of the’ in miser, earnestly, “Oh, T can’t see any insult. You had no business to keep dogs about your place that would attack strangers that did not trespass on your premises,” said the judge. “But they did trespass, your honor,” “That does not appear. And I must fell you. sir, that this ig not the first time that I have received coniplaints regarding your degs, the prisoners, aud receive any complaint they may make against you for assault.” say, an’ sult,” said the little 38 You cameout toy ‘*What!” exclaimed the old miser. “The case is cldsed.” “Bully for you, jedge!” exclaimed Shorty. But now I come to the “Do you wish to make a cuarge against him?™ ash- ed the justice. “No, jedge, I'l] let up on him, if hell tell me who he is,” said Shorty. “Oh, you have no right to ask that, unless he chooses to. tell you.” ? “Well, jedge, I haven’t found my dad yet, an’ as he fills der bill best. of anybody I's seen yet, I'd HT ROMs know whohe is so as ter rest my mind.’ “That is no affair of the court, If you do nat wish to make a charge against him Ul call, the next case,” “Whoop her up, jedge; I'll Jet ip on der ole roost er, Guess he’s not der wust chap in der world, if he does live away from everybody,” The justice waved them all away, and proceeded with his regular business: Shorty approached the little old man, who seemed entirely dazed at the way th+ case had turned out. . j oe Say. pop, give us your flipper,” said he, offering lis rand. “No, sir, never; for althongh I have failed to re- ceive justice, I cannot but think that the whole affair Was a gross Insult.’? “Nixy, pop, nixys let’s be friends; I'm one of der gfanw, Lis, an’ if you ain’t my dad, it’s no reason why you shouldn’t be iny friend; T'll buy you sume more OgR,”? + ee i “Who the devil are you?” he asked, after gazing. at Shorty a few moments, boa tas “Why, I'm Shorty, der tough; {tole you who I was yesterday. Now, honest Cuinaman, didu’t you ever Hit a son that you lost somewhere?” said he, coax- ugly, Gee rns ANB “I—T don’t know what to make of yon. There ia something strangely familiar About you—you say youcanie from New York?” * ; ‘Dat’s me, t «a New York cut, Tis.” Peli you are between thirty and forty years of age sf “Dat’s der way I reckons it, bus Tisn’t certain; I was fuund somewhere near New York an’ lived in der poor-house for a few years, den I worked out an’? faked my way in der show biz up ter now.” — “How long are you going to reniain in San Frin- rae the ald man asked, after a few moments” si- lence, ee. f > “Bout a week longer, an’ Gen I start east again wid my gang, But when I show here in Oakland, yer must come an’ see me, Here’s a ticket dat'll push yer right ter der front,” said he, offering him one, The old man took it ina dazed sort of a way, and after a few moments’ silence, extended fis hand to Shorty and promised to yisit the slow when it came to Oakland, after which they separated and Shorty and his friends returned to San Frraticisco, ye It was the’ unanimous opinion of the gang, that if Shorty didn’t find the old fellow to be his father, he would never find the man who was, for there certain- dy existed a very strong resemblance between them. However, they celebrated his €scape with a dianer, and the detective received a food boodle for the ate he had taken in the sffair, and parted with horty on tie best of terms, ai d once more alt hands felt just like “gripping the golden graft.) i “I say, fellows, said Harry Kennedy, seeing a chance to get in an impromptu conundruin, “why is Sins like @ cannon that was used lagt Fourth of uly? } “Because he has got a great dore with him,” said Billy Barry, pointing to Harry, i “Because he kicks when loaded,” Gus Williams did that. “Because he can take in a ball.” Shanks fired that one of. “Because he hasn't found his dad.” The Kid let that one go, and they laughed. “No, you have not got it yet,’ said Marry, “Well. why is he like a cannon that was used last Fourth of Juiy?? ‘ “Because he was discharged. See?" “Oh-ho-oli! Will somebody load Kennedy up with giant powder and discharge hint’? was the general cry. : Well, that passed off all right, and the next day they were all to start off with a hunting party up into the mountains where it was expected that they would encounter sone large game, such as lions and grizzly bears, and they all pretended that they were anxious to Strike dct such game; something worthy of their borrowed rifles, 4 Both Shorty and Shorty, Jr. were to go along, for they had ideas of hunting quite as large as the other fellows, even if they were'several sizes smaller than they were, It was proposed to be gone three days, and on their return, it. was all arranged to play two nizhia in Oak- land, after which they were to return te San Jose, and then to take in the smaller towns on their way back to the east, including many cities of iinport- ance which they had skipped in going out, They arrived at the station where they were to set out for the hunt, and it was not only a jolly, but a peculiar hunting party, HW ever there was one, Scarcely one ef them had ever fired auything stronger than an airgun ora chanipagne-bettie and yet they all had an idea that they were mighty LuWnbers, 4 . Gus Williams was armed with a Winchester re peating rifle; Shanks had a rifle and’ @ shotgun, to- gether with a brace of pistols; Harry Kennedy had two rifles, two pistols, and five hunting knives; Billy. IT shall discharge | Barry had a big elephant. rifle, two pepperbox ré- volvers, and a harpoon, and Shorty had a small rifte and a revolver, while the ethers were quite as pro . Mv
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. 40. SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. miscuously armed. As for Shorty, Jr., he had a | little ducklegs would not permit them to keep up bunch of big fire crackers, But there were three or four regulars in the party; men who were not novices at the business, and they were becomingly armed and guided the whole expedition. And so they started out into the forest to slay whatever might cross their path. The regulars soon left the novices behind, for they were too full of the devil to do anything but cut up, and knowing that they had only come out for a lark, they left them to themselves, and started up among the foothills for ame, “Why are we Jike a person who has the advantage and will not take it?” asked Kennedy, at the first op- portunity he had to get in some funny business, AUN | TN a i ti i ll se eS ° In an instant he was covered with half a dozen rifles, while Bily Barry poised his harpoon as though to drive it at him. “Fold on! I weaken!’’ said he, r “Thats the only way to fix him,’ said Gus Wil- ams. “Oh, let him get off one more, fora bear may kill him before he gets through with the hunt,”’ suggest- ed Shanks, dropping his rifle. i “Well, { don’t know. I fear,there is no such good luck in store for us,” said Gus. “But go ahead. Why are we like a man that has av advantage and will not take itr? - “Because weare for bearing. See?” Every man in the party fell to the ground, while Kennedy went on to explain his joke, and contend- ing that it was a first-class one. But they all gradu- ally revived, and continned their journey into the woods, although it was solemnly agreed among them toshoot Kennedy full of lead if he attempted such an outrage again, They were plodding along, Joking and telling sto- ries about their experience in hunting, when they were suddenly startled by a thundering growl, and found themselves confronted by a big grizzly bear, who evidently wanted something to eat, Have you éver seen fellows git up and git on the double-quick when suddenly confronted by some imminent danger? Well, if you ever did, you never sawsuch astamped6 as took place on this occasion. . They all threw away their rifles and ran as though the very devil was after them, although just at that moment Harry Kennedy was telling of his adven- tures in India, where he had killed eight or ten Ben- gal tigers, { Such a seattering and skedaddling was never seen before, although the bear made no attempt to follow them. They had seen him, and heard him growl, Ih Again Sather and son embraced, while the others applauded heartily. Then Shorty introduced the others to his father. and that was enough, Shorty and the Kid were of course behind,for their 7] with the other bold hunters, and ‘nrunning away from one bear, they ran right upon another one,who stood on his hind legs ready to receive them, But they all managed to get away but Shorty, and before he knew it, the bear‘had seized him in his fore paws. aint ua yelled Shorty, while the Kid stood like the others, paralyzed with fear. Gus Williams was the first to recover, and rushing up he began to empty his revolver into the bear’s head, while Billy Barry recovered and plunged his harpoon into his body. Shanks also rushed to the front with a pair of revolvers, and in a halfof no tine, and before the hrute could get a fatal Mug on ae ns | other one of quite as serious a nature, in which an old she bear and her three cubs caught them almost as bad as before, ; They came upon @ beautiful clear pool and con cluded to goin for a swim, The other hunters had gone away again, leaving them alone, and so they Stacked their arms, peeled themselves to the hide, and plunged into the Jimpid waters fora frolic and swim, And they were having a splendid time, when an old bear and three cubs suddenly put in their appear ance upon the edge of the little lake. There was a sudden and awful sensation, of course, and they got as far into ‘the water as possible. But what was their dismay at beholding the bears attack their clothing and commence'to tear it in pieces, “ RSS WSS 2 fas Ci. WW, f il \\ Wa Shorty, he was filled so full of bullets that it would have paid to work him as a lead mine. The grizzly weakened, and Shorty escaped; Shanks ulled him away, and at that moment up came bold arry Kennedy, the tiger-slayer, and began empty- ing his revolvers into the dead body of the bear, “Are you hurt?” they all asked of Shorty. “Not much, I guess,” replied he,faintly,as he stag- gered to his feet. “Ah, nothing like knowing how to putina few fa- tal shots,’ said Kennedy, boastfully. “Why, he was dead before you came up,”’ said Bil- ly Barry, pointing to his well-planted harpoon, “Dead? Why, you fellows are’ al broken up. Wasn’t it my shot through the head that did the bus- iness? Of conrse it was, Ilay back, watching for a Bora shot. On, I understand this sort of thing,” he Said, Harry received the grand Jaugh on that occasion, if he never did before, But the other hunters—the regulars—had been at- tracted by the shouting and the firing, and had start- ed to return to the company, when they came upon the other bear, the one that gave them the firs fright, and a few well-directed shots brought the old fellow down, after which they hastened to see what had happened to the gang. They congratulated them upon killing one of the largest griszlias ever seen, and although every one of them, with the exception of Shorty and the Kid, claimed the honor of killing him, they said that the honor was great enough to go all around and give a piece to each one. | : ; E The skin ofthat grizzly was stuffed, and is now on exhibition at the American Museum on the Bowery, New York, and to this day, if you will only listen to it, each individual member of that hunting party will point to if and’claim the honor of having slain it. ; But a little while after this adventure they had an- And it didn’t take them long to do it, either. Gus Williams’ pants were. torn apart, leaving thein two separate legs, while his coat and vest weve also torn up the back in quite as unmendablé a manner. But he came off the best.of any of them, even at that, for Shorty’s clothes had been attended to by the cubs, who not only tore therm, but chewed them to pieces. Well, after they had accom plished all the mischief they could in that way, they knocked the rifles over, discharging one of them, so that the ball whizzed over the heads of the bathers, creating éven a great-" er panic stil, ’ Bunt the report frightened the bears away, and after remaining in the water about half ah hour longer, they ventured out to gather up the shreds of their clothing, -What a sight it was. ; And wasn’t there some red-hot cussing? Bet that there was and you'll win, : A portion of them took up their rifles and stood on guard, while the others got into what there was left of their clothing as best they could. But what a sight they were as they started back to the station. Some of them had .their clothes tied on with withes; others had it half on; some didn’t have a half of a suit left, and altogether it was the sickest and most comieal-looking crowd that walked on tup of the earth. In fact, they conldn’t help laughing at each other in spite of their misery. , But they never stopped for any more “sport,” they had all got a belly full, and arriving at the gtat(ony they took the next train for civilization, you et. They got back to San Francisco without any further mishap, fully satisfied, but scarcely Knowing for a certainty whether they had been hunting bears, or whether the bears had been hunting them. But at all events they had all they wanted, and prepara- tions were at once made to resume business, the first place to show at being Oakland, where Shorty had
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF -HIS DAD. &3 a ae spjoyed such a sensation while searching for his ' CHAPTER XXVIUIL Tar excitement attending the bear hunt, as re- eorded in the preceding chapter, was quite enough, as may well be supposed, to keep the members of a epitth: company in talking material for several ays. ; Harry Kennedy even tried to make puhs upon it, but was frowned down, and given a chance between ute and death for attempting to perpetrate’one of them. Shorty’s trial in Oakland, for the racket he played wpon the dwarf miser, Mr. Burwick, will also be re- vi nc an ; i: ul Y) Zp, on a 3 : HUA TEAR having one of the manager’s tickets, he was shown to one of the best seats in the house, " : Great was the astonishment of the citizens at see- ing the old fellow at a place of amusement, for as long as_he had lived there, they had never known him to do such a thing before, In fact, he never went anywhere where he was likely to meet many of his fellow men, Shorty espied him through the peep-hole in the curtain, and was delighted, ; “Now, duffs, I want yer ter putin yer best Jicks,” said he, addressing his company. “All right." Come along, fellows, Shorty wants us to thrash him,” said Harry Kennedy, ‘What?’ exclaimed Shorty, wid yer?” Tm Tl mT i ) “What's der matter hip Mi ul [| : soa Hea I ett TUUATTTTATOOTIEETN TNO nese oo true that the little fellow was looking for his father, the pee of his having found him at last: were good. ot a Shorty waited for him at the door after the show was over, and the greeting between them was very cordial, attracting so much attention from those around, that they exclaimed: . “Shorty has found his dad, sure enough.” — . “Three cheers for Shorty and‘his dad?” were given as the two started toward the hotel, “JT guess der old man’s got him dis time fer sure,” said Shorty, Jr. ‘ ' “They do look much alike,” said Shanks. | They were all going toward the hotel,following be- hind the interesting couple, q “Why is Shorty like——” began Kennedy. aT He The massive curtain shivers, rustles downward. falls and shuts out from view our friends Shorty, Shorty, Jr., and Shorty’s Dad. a membered, and that after he was discharged he “Why, you said you wanted usto putin our best made friends with the old fellow, and gave hii a | licks, didn’t. you? F e t ‘ticket to the show when he should come to Oakland, which he promised to attend. But the great conundrum was yet unsolved, wnether this little strange old man was his father or not; and although Shorty had given it considerable thought since hig escapade, yet he somehow felt that he was quite as far from knowing who he was as he had ever been in his life. or) If this person was not his father, was it halfway likely he would ever know who that personage was? But there was something about this mysterious man that drew him towards him in spite of the rebnff he had received at his hands, and he was more than a little curious to know if he would actually make use of the ticket he had given him, and attend the per- formance. After the rest and rackets they had enjoyed in San Francisco, it is no wonder “that the members of Shorty’s troupe took gladly to the road again. According to agreement, they went to San Jose first, where they showed fora night to a thumping house, having left animpression behind them, when there before, that was better than all the advertising shey could do; and from there they went to Oakland. ere they had another good house, for their repu- tation was abroad in the land, and wherever they went the “‘shug” awaited them. : Shorty’s anxtety of course was to see whether lit- tle Mr, Burwick would be there or not. But he did not know that he had been shadowing him ever since. the day of. the trial, and that he had employed sey- eral different agents in learning all he could regard- ing him. Such was the fact, however, which proyed that the old fellow was quite as much interested as he was himself. ; 6 ° And about a quarter of an hour before the per- termance commenced, he put in an appearance, and “Wel ‘Well, our best licks would be licking you. See?” ‘Harry, you are not well,” said Gus Williams. “Why not?” f “Oh, I know you are not or you wouldn’t get off such sick jokes.” ay “T should say so. Why, that joke’s so sick it can’t go alone,” said Shorty. 4 “Oh, you fellows can never see a point,” said Har- ry. turning away in disgust. Well, the performance went_on, and was quite as food as usual in all nesher ss But when Shorty came out with the Kid to do their double banjo act, (where they both occupy one chair) he put in some extra licks, more for the benefit of the old man than for fan andience in gonersl; eho were p und to be eats ad, @ san a n e par on “Baby Mine,” 4 old song of his, the parody I'm lookin’ for my daddy, ,Baby mine—baby mine, I'd even take a Paddy, Baby mine—baby mine. I've been skippin’ o’er the hills With it printed on my bills, Ihave sought him in gin mills, Baby mme—baby mine, . I have sought him in gin mills, | Baby mine. ' This is only a sample of it, and it made a hit, not only with the audience, but with the old man for whose benefit it was sung, and everybody noticed that he laughed heartily, and for the first time in his life, so faras they knew... : In fact, he seemed to be another individual en- tirély, especially when Shorty was on the stage, and the audience were not slow in discovering that there was something between them, and if it was really “Police—police!”” shouted Billy Barry, and then they all forsook him, leaving him walking alone,hug- ing his unborn conundrum. ; it was rather rough, but they often served him In that way, for he always had a joke or conundrum for Sny thing. imaginable, F be i get that conundrum In on them if f am hung for it,” he muttered, as he walked on alone, : Meantime Shorty and his guest went to the hotel, where they went to a private room for the purpose of having a talk, 3 : Shorty, at Mr, Burwick’s request, went over the whole story of his life, giving the serious part of it, as the reader has long known it, from his earliest recollections to the present time, and the little old fellow gave him the closest attention, interrupting him frequently to ask some particular question, To look eat them as they sat there together with their hats off, they certainly looked very much alike, barring their ages, although the old man was about ahead the tallest. “Well,what der yer think, anyhow?’ asked Shorty, after he had finished. ( “Well, sir, I think you are indeed my son,” said he, impressively. ; ; ; “What! Say it again, an’ say it slow,” said Shorty, striking an attitude. “Since first I saw you I haye taken great pains to observe Mia and ascertain certain points, and the re- sult is thatI have come to the conclusion that you are my long lost son and heir,”’ said he, ~ re “Der yer mean it?” ; “T do.” ° ; “ 2 “Cock sure?” \ , “T think Iam,”” E : “Whoop! Hi-ho—whoop! Come ter my arms, ty dad, my lost dad!” exclaimed Shorty, rushing. wit open arms into the open arms of his parent. Mr, Burwick was somewhat taken aback, but he © did rot hesitate, and after holding each other in em
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SHORTY -IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. & ee eT TT a SE Re STS aA BST TE TSEC DI Sa brace fora minute or two, they uncoupled and shook hands fer atleast five minutes. “T really believe it. I do—I do,” “So do I, dad—so do I. Whoop! le’s call in der gang an’ ses ’em up,” said he, going toward the door. “No—no, wait awhile. Let us be sure. beyond a doubt before we let anyone know of our conclusions. L have a long story to tell that may unravel the mys- sery surroundiug us both. I was born in England, and came to this country about forty years ago. I inherited a handsome fortune from my parents at the death of my father, my mother having died sev- etal years before. I came to this country, and like a fool fell in love with a pretty face belonging to an adventuress. She knew I was wealthy, and in spite of my dwarfed figure, she consented to marry me. For a year I was as 1 as ever mortal was. A gon was born, but so much like mein look and per- gon that she hated it, Business called me back to ogland for a short time, and I left her in New York, well provided for, Ld “During my absence she met an old lover of hers, and after robbing me of all they could get possession of, they abandoned the child somewhere and fled to- gether. I never saw her afterwards, but I heard that she died in poverty years afterwards in Paris, and she left a written statement, referring to the child that she had left with a woman to take care of. You may bo sure that Iexhausted every means of finding that woman, but she too had _ either died or disap- red from all who had ever known her, although I learned that she in turn abandoned the boy whom [ had begun to regard as dead, and whom [ finally re- garded as lost to me forever. “Willed with remorse and soured ayainst the world, I roamed everywhere in quest of rest and peace. Fi- nally I settled here and have lived the life of a re- eluse, preferring that to the society of men and women against whom I had become so soured. Here I have lived until now, possessed of a large fortune well invested, but caring nothing for it beyond pres- ent wants and the pleasure of getting it, although I have, unknown, given large sums for charitable pur- oses. But now a new life seems to dawn upon me, 1 I believe I have found my son.” : “Dad, putit there! ll bet a thousand against a rotten egg dat I’m yer kid,” said Shorty, again shak- ing him by the hand. . ‘Thank Heaven, I fee? that you are,” said he, with much emotion. “Wverything corresponds exactly, an’ we can prove it more by goin’ ter the shebang whar I war fuss icked up. I went there once an’ had a long talk.wid ater ole folks. ‘They said dat some years ago a fittle old man came there inquirin’ for me, an’ dat he had a wart on his nose.”” “Where was that—at a place on Long Island, near New York?” the old man asked, quickly. “Yes, Yapnank or Coram, or some such a, place.” “Coram, that’s the place.” “An ever since I’ve been lookin’ for a litfle ole man with a big corn on his bugle,’ said Shorty, laughing. £ “Allow me to say that Lat one time, some twenty years ago, had a large wart on my nose,”’ “Ts dat so? Whoop her up some more!” and rere feléso good that he kicked his hat up to the ceiling. : A “It was at Coram; Iremembherit very well. But they could give me no information whatever regard- ing you.” "Yes, so dey said, but when we had a talk over ole times dey remembered it, Oh, I'll double der bet dat yer my dad,” and again he kicked his hat. “That was the last place I ever visited in quest of you. How strange—how strange!” said the o d mau, ere bee ; “Yes; an’ only ter think of my readin’ ’bout yer in 5 beet an’ makin’ up my mind dat yer was my aa. “Strange indeed. Andin you I seo myself in my own youthful days; although [ never took to the show business, I can remember well the pranks I used to cut up when I was a boy, aud I should continue to Jove such fun had I not become soured and disgusted with the world.” “Dat’s it. Yer my dad, I know jt. Lemme go an’ bring in der boys, an’ der Kid.” “Well, I should rather not, ey bor but——”’ “Oh, let her rip. Der gang’s had der laugh on’ me lots of times, an’ now I want ’em ter see dat J’ve fonnd my dad,sure. Whoop!’ he yelled, and rushed from the room, - He found the majority of his company in the bar- room, laughing and joking over tbe prospect of Bhorty’s having found his dad. “Duffs, come up!’’ he shouted. “What?” “Come up an’ see my dad. I’se got him sure dis time. Oome, I'll interduce yer. Come, Kid—come au’ see yer grandpop.” Laughing and joking, they followed him up stairs to his parlor, where he presented Shorty, Jr., to Mr, Burwick first. “Kid, shake yer grandpop’s flipper.”’ “My dear boy, I am glad to see you,” said the old man, taking him by the hand. “Dead sure thing?” asked the Kid. “T have mo doubts whatever on the subject, I am glad tosay. We have been talking the matter over, and-our tife stories agree in évery particular;” an again father and son embraced, while the others ap- plauded heartily. Then Shorty introduced the others to his father, and he shook hands cordially with them and compli- mented them upon the parts they had taken in the evening’s performance which he had witnessud. He was wlll Cle A neal to Harry Kennedy, and this so elated him that he attempted everal times to crowd in that conundrum that they had choked him off on before. d But they succeeded in heading him off every time, and he was forced to give it up after all, And a very pleasant evening they had of it, for the old man gradually broke through his reserve, and showed some of the Shorty blood most unmistakably, although not much could be expected, considering the circumstances of the case. It was nearly three o’clock in the morning before they separated for bed, the old man remaining at the hotel with his newly found children. As for the company, they would gladly have disbe- lieved it, butin spite of themselves they were forced to believe that Shorty had at length found his dad for certain, But what was he going to do with him, now that he had fourd him? That was a question that néi- ther Shorty nor Mr. Burwick had thought about as he but Shanks and the others looked somewhat | q lue over the matter, fearing that it would break up the jolly old combination. The next day, however, father and son had a talk over the matter, and it was agreed that the old man should settle up his business and remove to New York, where he would arrive just about in time to oin his children at the finish of their trip, which horty was prevailed upon to continue back to New York by what is known as the ‘‘middle route,”’. And once more they were on the road, bound east- ward, the same jolly, joking gang as ever, bent on two things—making fun and money, although for a while there was a change observable in Shorty, and: he was more thoughtful, and less inclined to those practical jokes that had made him famous, : But this mood did not last him long, and by the time they had reached Omaha he had recovered his spirits and was himself again, as nearly every mem- ber of the gang knew to their sorrow. ‘Why is Shorty like——’’ “Slug him!” and Harry Kennedy, who had not yet found a chance to get in that conundrum, dodged eh half-a-dozen different things that were hurled at him. 4 This last attempt took place on board the cars be- tween Omaha and St, Louis, and at a,stopping-place fae there was no noise, he had attempted to get it n again, : “Now, hold on, duffs. Dat’s bout der fiftieth time dat Kennedy’s tried ter work in dat conundrum. Now let him spit it out,” said Shorty, standing up on his seat. “Oh, Lord!” they all groaned. “But maybe it’s good. Give hima show.” “Give him a club.” “Give him a rope.” ; “Make him sign the pledge never to put another conundrum,” suggested Shanks. “Give it to us, Kennedy,” “Be quick about it,” said Billy Barry, thrusting his fingers into his ears. “Wait until the cars start and then whisper it,” suggested Shanks, “Go ask the passengers in the next car,’’ “Write it out and send it by mail,” and so they went on chaffing him until the train started, and they had not yet received that dreadful conundrum, Harry sat back in his seat, disgusted but not dis- heartened. v7 “There will come a time,” thought he, as the train dashed on, i As for the others, they laughed, shook hands, and congratulated each other on the fiftieth escape. and ae back into their seats in a happy, thankful mood, But at the next stopping place they all agreed to give Harry achance to unburden his mind. They argued that he had been carrying that conundrum for two or three weeks and must necessarily feel tired, so when the noise had ceased, Shanks spoke up: “T say, hem what is that conundrum?” “Ah! Why is Shorty like an oyster?” pete he shells out,”’ suggested Gus. ‘No “Because der’s stew of ’em,” said the Kid, “No, they’re too raw for a stew.” *Because—oh, confound it, I give it up. Why is he like an oyster?’ “Ill be hanged if I know,” said Harry, settling back in his seat. That time he turned the tables on them complete- ly, and they could but acknowledge it. They didn’t bother him any more for some time. Business wasn’t quite so good as it had been, be- cause they were now visiting towns that they had skipped before, and skipped in most instances be- cause they were not first-class show towns; but as a general thing they did well. They played a week at Pittsburg, Pa., and drew elegant houses, and they gave a grand finish in Bal- timore and a final wind up of the season by playing two weeks in Philadelphia, after which they return- ed to New York, where the combination was broken up, and Shorty’s Varieties became a thing of the past, the different members foing into different companies, either on the road or located in New York or Boston. But when Shorty and Shanks came to have a grand figuring up, they found that they had cleared about puenty thousand dollars apiece, besides hav- ing one of t. lives, : an Shorty and the Kid went to the Metropolitan Hotel to board, there to wait for the appearance of the old man from whom they had heard once or twice in the meantime, and who was about down now. __ 8 “T'll bet it’s a bottle of smoke wid der corlr out,’” eal heebon) Shorty, Jr.; referring to their respected parent, @ most enjoyable times of their whole | “We'll see "bout dat. But we'll have some fun ous of it, eh; anyway, Shanks?’ said Shorty, punishiog his old partner’s ribs. “I'd like vo know how,” said Shanks, quietly, “Never mind, I'll show yer.” ° ——_ CHAPTER XXIxX. Or course Shorty could not long remain idle ° without getting into some mischief, for mischief was just as essential to his existence as breathing was, Weill ‘‘fixed,’* both he and Shanks were just as happy as mortals could be, and as for the Kid, why, he never knew what it was to be poveniog but happy. They rode out nearly every day, and as Shorty had purchased a first-class nag and a fancy road wagon, lie of course became conspicuous ** on the Mate and there were but a few who could give him ust. It was a comical sight to see the little rant bracing up and holding in his horse, and with the Kid by his side, those who met them regarded them as two wild boys who had got possession of somebody’s horse and wagon, and were in danger of enjoying a smash-up almost any time, “Hi g'lang!” he shouted, the first day he was out with his new turnout, “Lemme see how much yer good for.” The horse had lots of “go” in him and was putting it out in good style, He passed team after team on the road, and some of the nags with big records were obliged to take Shorty’s dust. And it made them all as mad as blazes, The idea of being beaten by a ‘boy’ was more than they could stand and be happy. a But Shorty was a good driver and could do just as he had a mind to with his new horse, and was of course ready to “tackle” anything on the road, “Come an’ see me!’ he yelled back atone party with a tony turnout whom he had speeded past. The man was thunderstruck. ‘The idea of being beaten by a couple of boys made him sick, and as he happéned to have his girl in the carriage with him, ie would have sold out for ten cents on a dollar just en, Then he overtook another airy rooster with a fancy stepper, who felt very much like having a brush, They were about a mile from McComb’s bridge. “Tl go yer ter de bridge for a bot,” said Shorty, The man looked at him with the most supreme contempt. * “Make if a basket if you at 80.” “Sonny, you had better go'slow,” said the man, af- ter a moment’s hesitation. _*Dat’s.der only way yercan go; g’lang!’’ and he let out his nag, shooting past the indignant man like a greased arrow. “‘Come an’see me!” hecalled back. “Bet yera bottle or a fifty dat I beat yer out ter Judge Smith’s!”” But the cha!lenged party took no notice of him, re- garding him as only a boy. ' A mounted policeman, however, did take notice of Shorty, for seeing what he regarded as a pair of run- away boys with a fast team, he took it for ‘granted that they had either stolen it or come into posses- sion of it in some crooked way. So he put spurs to his horse and went forShorty as fast as he could, “Here comes der cop,” said the Kid. Shorty glanced over his shoulder, and saw the offi- cer coming after them pell-mell. . “What! If Ican’t beat dat ole club-swinger, Til shoot dernag. G’lang, Daddy!” and he touched his fastest spot with the whip, causing him to let out like a reindeer, t ; But Shorty was mistaken about the speed of the police horses, especially when going under a saddle against.one in harness, and just before they reached the bridge the officer rode up alongside. “Race yer for a bottle!” cried Shorty. ‘Hold on!’’ detnanded the officer. “Hold on ter what?” “Stop that horse!” “Not much!” “You'd better!’ “But I can’t; Daddy’s got his back. up!” The officer again put spurs to his horse, and sue- | ceeded in reaching the reins of Shorty’s nag, seizing which, he slackened the speed of his own horse,and, of course, quickly brought the other to a stand-still. “What’s der matter?” demanded Shorty, “Tl soon show you what the eas is. Whose horse is this?” : “Mine.” 4 “You lie!” “Bet yer a tener I don’t lie,” “Who are you, and where did you get this horse and wagon?’ : “Why, I’m Shorty, an’ dis is my horse, Daddy. Come out ter der Club House or Judge Smith’s if you don’t believe it.’ : The officer looked at him sharply. ‘The idea of his being a boy was abandoned at once, for he saw that De i a decidedly old boy, as the reader knows him 0 be. ‘ But as the officer’s education had been neglected, he had never heard of Shorty, and so he Waar put off so easily. “Ride out ter ther judge’s, an’ get a drink. He knows me,”” 2, “Ail right, but look out; no fooling, or I’ll scoop youin, anyway.” ; “Oh, shoot me if I’m crooked, I’m satisfied. Come “Well. go ahead, and I'll follow,” said the offtoer, releasing the rein. ‘ 4 ‘ “Dat’s all right. G’lang, Daddy!’ and the next Awe they were speeding again toward Judge
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SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. 43 “Oh, I’ work a racket on dat fresk rooster, see ’f i don’t!’ muttered Shorty, *Ysn't he fresh?” said the Kid. “I'd givea ea ter work a job on him,” and touch- ed up the nag a little, Everybody had the laugh on Shorty, and he met several whom he knew, for they saw that he was in the custody of the officer, and had probably been ar- rested for fast driving. A ride of about ten minutes brought them to the noted roadside tavern known as Judge Smith’s, about a mile beyond the bridge, a place where every- body stops,and it seemed as though “everybody” _ was there on this occasion, and when they saw Shorty driving up in custody they gave him the laugh. , “Halloo, Shorty!’’ said Judgé Smith, “What's the matter?” i i “Well, jedge, dis rooster thinks dat I swiped der mag,"’ said he, “What!” “Do you know him, judge?” asked the officer. “Well, I should say so. He’s all right,officer, Why, i thought everybody knew him.” “T thought he was a boy who had stolen the team, er borrowed it for a lark.” “Oh, no; L know all about if,” “Dat makes it all right, cop?” “Certainly. But you see I was only doing my duty.” “Oh, dat’s all right, cop. Come in an’ let’s have a ‘bot’ together.” “Well, I’m alittle thirsty,” said the officer, who was only human, if he did wear'a uniform and ex- ercise a little brief authority; and giving his horse to a hostler to water in the meantime, he followed Shorty into the bar-room. “Open a casket. Daddy’s under der shed, and I’m under obligations, Come up, everybody. Trot up yor friends, jedge,” said Shorty, standing up ina chair at one end of the bar, ‘ Of course, as nearly everybody knew him, either ersonally or by reputation, there was soon along Tine of handsome, laughing, good-natured men in front of the bar, and a crowd around Shorty and the officer, | Thrée or four bar-keepers began to make the corks fly at a lively rate, and the toast, ‘Shorty and his Daddy” was drunk in sparkling “cham,” But Shorty, Jr., was not there, No; he was out- side with a hostler, carrying out the racket which he and his father had agreed upon while ‘riding along. The idea was to get Something under the police- man’s saddle, while Shorty got something under his hat, and after hunting around for a few moments, he found a good, healthy, ripe chestnut burr, and this was placed under the saddle while the horse was drinking, and ther he was led up to the housejwhere his rider was drinking, and there tied toa post to wait, Meantime the corks were popping in the bar-room, and that policeman was getting something stronger than “pop” under his Hat, and plenty of it. Cham- pagne was something that he didn’t often get treat- éd to, and he wasn’t the kind of an officer that al- lowed such things to go to waste if he could help it. The résult was that Shorty managed to have a full glass before him just as often as he found it empty, which was about every minute, and in the course of half an hour he was as fullasa goat. “Once more, gents!” said Shorty, holding up his glass. ‘‘Here’s to ourgallant policemen, der finest in der world!” ; . {he toast was drunk, and winks exchanged all around. The officer thought he was in duty bound to make a speech in reply, but he got so badly mix- ed that he didn’t know what he was talking about any more than the crowd did. But it eventually occurred to him that he had bet- ter resume his beat, which lay a couple of miles from where he then was, andso he started, in a rather unsteady manner, for his waiting horse. : “Whoop! Maybe you think I’m drunk,” he cried, and, unhitching his horse, he threw himself into the waddle, He was thrown out just as quick as he threw him- self in, for that chestnut burr made things lively. “Whoop! Maybe you Hine yours sober,” said some ne of the crowd who s‘ood around. n Mf The Domed officer picked himself up, and drawing his locnst, offered to club the person till his mother wouldn’t know him from a hunk of chuck steak, and do it for nothing, too. But his offer was declined, and once more he threw himself into the saddle, and once more, also, did the borse “buck” and throw him upon the ground, after which he started down the roa toward New York as though the deyil was after him. This time the officer got up with a bloody nose,and fooked around in a confused sort of way, just as though he expected somebody was going to tell him what had happened. - “Where's er fight? Who struck me?” he asked, leering around. “The ground,” somebody volunteered to say, and he tried to see who it was, but he was too mixed to gee a barn. ““Whoa—whoa, now!” said he, looking around,and reaching out in search of his horse. “Do that ter me ‘gin, an’ Vil club yer whole head off—hic!”” “Your horse hag run away, old man.” “Where is he?” , “Away down by the bridge, yonder, Take a walk ” ter py bhai he get 'way?'’he asked, looking around idly. “Ran away.” “WW __-wh—where wash I?” ‘Sampling mud with your nose,” said some one, whereat there was a loud laugh. “Ash funny,” he mused. “Gush that slampaign gosh inter my head,” and away he staggered toward New York. Y But the grand laugh followed him until he was out of hearing, : And while this was going on, a man had stopped the horse, robbed him of bridle and saddle—greatly to the horse’s relief—and turned him adrift again. Then Shorty told the story of the officer’s fresh- ness, and the joke they had played upon him, eaus- ing even a louder laugh than before; for up to that time it had been a mystery to them why the horse threw him, unless he was a total abstinence beast, Well, it was a jolly, old-fashioned hurrah that they had that afternoon, and: the little jokers made doz- ens of friends. On the way back to New York, Shorty had several brushes with the owners of fast nags, and got away with the most of them without any difficulty, for Daddy was a fast one and no mistake. On their return to the Metropolitan Hotel, they found that Mr. Burwick had arrived during the after- noon from California, and that Shanks had been en- taining hiin while awaiting their return. Tho meeting between father and son—for father and son they undoubtedly were—was of the most cordial nature, and that evening they dined together 4 Shorty’s parloy, and @ pleasant time they had of The next day Shorty took the old gent out on the road for a ride, and if there was any further evidence needed that they were father and son, it was found in the genérally expressed opinion: “There goes father and son.’’ In fact, Shorty (he will always be called “Shorty” as long as he lives, notwithstanding his name is Harry es 2) introduced him to all of his acquaint- ances as his father, cidentally found. _ The next two or three days were spent in follow- ing up the old traces of the abandonment of the kid of so many years ago, and of which the reader is well acquainted, Little by little it was all worked out and made clear to both of them, and it was hard to say which of them was the most delighted when everything was traced out and there was no longer any doubt about if. And to show how much the old man believed it, he made his will in favor of Shorty and the Kid, (haying) him christened. beforehand, Frank Burwick) leaving the two of them nearly one hundred thousand dol- lars apiece whenever he should peg out. But both of the boys, son and grandson, hoped that the old_ man might live long and prosper, for now that he had found them, and the weight which had borne him down so long and even made a hermit of him had lifted, he began to change for the better, and actually seemed to be growing younger every ay. iif fact, Shorty found him more like a companion than a parent, for day by day he grew more and more sociable, and showed that in his younger days and in the absence of all trouble, that he was one of the boys and quite as full of fun.as ever Shorty was. In short, three happier persons than they were could not be found in the world, and they were continually in each other’s company. But there is one character who has figured on a great many occasions in connection with Shorty, and who will undoubtedly be well remembered by the reader—Sergeant Polly. Shorty remembered him, for about the last time he had seen him he had played a little snap upon him by’sending him all the way up to Albany with a let- ter of introduction to an old fellow whom he thought might be his dad, the result of which was that/‘Shorty got fired out, bad. On his return from California, one of the first per- sons he thought of was the sergeant, for he knew that he ‘towed him one,” and it was against bis pace to owe anyone any longer than he -uld el] the sergeant was boarding in a certain bouse up town, enjoying the dignity of being a contented pagowers and Shorty was not long in finding out all aout it, The result was the following advertisement in one |* of the morning papers: ; “Wantep,--A colored woman to sweep and clean a gentleman’s room. Ten dollars a week for only an hour’s work each day. Apply at No, — Twenty-third street; ring the front door bell, hard, four times, and inqure for SERGEANT.” The result was quite as much as the little joker could have imagined, for it was scarcely daylight when the wenches began to come and to pull the bell of that boarding-house four times, as though they in- tended to pull it out by the roots, and to inquire *‘fo’ de surgunt.” me , The landlady of the house answered the bell, and not being of an angelic turn of mind, she naturally ‘kicked”’ at So much “‘previousness."* The first applicant, however, she treated quite civilly; asked her to wait until she communicated with Sergeant Polly and found out what he had ad- vertised for. / . The sergeant was asleep when she rapped on his door, and Peak his head out asked her what in —- she wanted at that hour. : “The colored woman you advertised for is down stairs,’’ said she, ” Ro “Colored thunder! What are you giving me?” growled the sleepy Polly. “Didn’t you advertise for a colored woman?’ “Bah!” he exclaimed, slamming the door in her face and loeking it again, whom he had lately and ac-° That astonished and wondering landlady retired in good order, but she was mad. She told the colored applicant that it was undoubtedly a mistake, and showed her the door. In a few moments the bell Rank again, and a ser- vant went to the door, only to find another colored applicant for the situation. She told her to wait in the hall, and went up to the sleepy sergeant’s room and ad eis on the door. “What in thunder do you want!” roared he. “Ther nageur wench that ye want is down stairs,” said she, with a strong Irish accent. “Tell her to go to the devil,” The servant went below and reported according to orders, But the wench wasn’t that sort of a cat; she objected to going to the devil, and so she made a kick, and there was a fight in the hall, during which the hat-rack was overturned, and a lively time had generally. P But with the assistance of the landlady and two other servants. the colored applicant was fired out, and harmony temporarily restored, although she at once went for a policeman to get justice. Iu the course of five minutes there were four other vigorous pulls at the bell, and the landlady went to see whatit meant. There stood a colored woman. “Well?” “Wharam de surgunt, please?” “Who told you to come here?’ she demanded. it aoe yer advertisement, mum,’ said she, displaying to her, “Wait here a moment,” and closing the door, she rushed up to the sergeant’s room, She pounded lustily upon the door, “What yer want?’ came in smothered tones, “Get up and come down stairs, sir, for I will not ba bothered with your wenches,” é “Oh, shut up; what do I know about wenches?” “Well, sir, if you don’t get up at once you must leave my house.” : “Oh, go to the devil!” £ She returned and told the ap. licant that it was all a mistake, and the sergeant, thinking something was decidedly wrong, soon made his appearance, and by that time three or four others had pulled the bell and been admitted. The second one had also returned with a policeman in the meantime, and there was the wildest old confusion that was ever known in a boarding house. Polly, of course, could not under- stand it, and explained the best he could to the of- ficer, who cleared out the colored crowd, and peace reigned once more, - But ina short time the bel rang be St and the sergeant was once more in demand, * This was too much, Seizing his hat, he rushed from the house, : “Tl bet five dollars that Shorty isin town again,’ he muttered, as he started downtown, CHAPTER XXX. ‘Yes,’ muttered Sergeant Polly, as he walked down town, ‘‘I’ll bet a fiver that that cussed Shorty isin town. For who else under Heaven would have thought of ppiting up such a job on me? I'd rather have.given a hundred dollars than to be set up for this, for all my friends will be sure to hear about it, and then, oh! the guying I'll get, Yes, I’m fully con- vinced that Shorty is in town, and I'll just nose around a little and see if Iam not right, He owes me one for the little games I have played on him, and that makes me certain, almost, that he is in town. a And he was right about the trouble and guying that the racket which had been played upon hia would engender, for the colored women continued te call on his poor Jandlady until she had to seek the rotection of the police, one of whom was stationed n front of her house to turn away any further appli- cants for the situation. But the officer took in the situation; while explain- ing that there was some mistake about the advertise. ment, he informed them that Mr. Polly could un. doubtedly explain the matter if they called upon him at the station house where he was detailed, and so dozens of them went there to interview him, and a few buck niggers, who took up for the deluded wom- en, also went to demand satisfaction, SUM got it, for the sergeant swings a nasty club. Yes, they got all the satisfaction they wanted. And when the sergeant reached his boarding-house that evening, he found his denalagy, in high dudgeon, and he was at once ordered from her house, and he might think himself lucky that she did not sue him for damages besides. Poor Polly! - But that really was not tke worst of it, for some enterprising reporter got hold of it that same after- noon, and worked it up in a most humorens way for the Heening Telegram, xiving the whole affair. And then the whole police force had it on him, and his friends everywhere were guying him until life became a burden and official dignity a mockery. “Oh, if J only find that Shorty isin town, Vil go for him, anyway; I'll go for him on principle, for he’s a cuss anyhow and deserves clubbing,” growled he. Well, as he threatened, he did nose around, and the result was that he found that Shorty was in town, and stopping at the Metropolitan Hotel. — “Now, what ought I to do?” he mused, ‘If it was him, and I'd almost swear it. if I go atid accuse him of it, he’ll laugh me out of it in spit of my indigna- tion, What can 1-0 to get even with the little ras- cal?’ and he pondered on thesubject for some time. r Finally he concluded to set a detective to watch him, and it was not long before he found that the little joker was still up to his old tricks again, and was just as full of the devil as ever.
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44 —_—-~, So he gave the detective orders to keep a bright lookeut for him, and to “snatch” him into the sta- tion-house on the slightest occasion that would jus- tify locking him up. The officer had but little to do, and did not have to wait long, for in a day or twoafterwards he caught Shorty playing some of his funny business on an old apple woman not far from the hotel,and even before he had committed any breach of the law in reality, the detective collared him and hurried him to the station-house, followed by the old woman anda erowd of idlers. Sergeant Polly was at the desk when Shorty was brought in, but he pretended not to know him af all. “Halloo, sargel’’? shouted Shorty. “What's the matter with you?’ demanded Polly. geverely. ‘Don’t you know me, sarge?” “No, sir; and I’m glad I do not, for you are a bad- looking character. What is the charge, officer?” he added, opening the “blotter” to take down the state- ment. Shorty was esalineus In the first place he would willingly have given the old Irish woman ten dollars, or three times what: her whole stock was worth, just for the little fun he in- tended to have with her, and when he was snatched 80 suddenly, it rather took him aback, “Now look here, sarge——”” “Shut up, sir! .Officer, proceed,” | ‘Well, sir, he attempted to rob this poor old apple woman.’ “Faith, he did, oer honor,” put in the old woman, who had followed in the hope of making something out of the matter, leaving her ‘ould man” to tend the “‘store’’ during her absence, i “Be quiet, will you?” said the detective, turning to er. “Oh, me foine apples! Worra—worra, is there no justice for a dacint woman in this country?’ she moaned, “Well, proceed, officer. Did you catch him in the at ata ‘ . “What was he doing?” “He went along to her stand, and taking up three or four of her apples, he began tossing them up into the air, and catching them as they came down,” “Oh, me foine apples!” moaned the old woman. “Shut up, I tell you.” i “Well, what was he saying?” “Something like—now you see ’em, ole gal, an’ now you don’t; trying te fool her and confuse her so that | he might get some of them into his pocket.” “Undoubtedly.” “Tt’s the Lord’s truth he’s tellin’ ye, yer honor,”’ put in the old woman, while poor Shorty was all broken up. “T have often seen fellows like him doing the same thing,” added the detective. : i ‘Yes, it’s an old game, What’s your name, prison- er?” demanded the sergeant. / “Sarge, Garand my name,” said Shorty, after a moment's hesitation. “No, sir, I name?”’ “Harry Burwick,” replied Shorty. “What!” “Dat’s my name, ole man.” “No lying here.” fs “111 be hanged if I want ter lie here,” said Shorty. : : “What alias do you go by?” y “T used ter be called Shorty, an’ yer know it very well ” if you please, Harry Burwick, never saw you before. What is your ole man, “No familiarity alias Shorty,” sa d the fergeant, pretending to write in the blotter. * ‘How old are you?” “Thirty-five, I guess,” and Shorty began to look serious, “Where were you born?” “In New York,” “Read and write?” *‘Some,”” “Stand aside. Come up here, old lady,” he added, addressing the apple woman. “What is your name?’ ‘Bridget O’Hoolihan, yer honor.” ‘*Where do you live?” “In Crosby street, sur.” “What is your business?” “Sure, me an’ me ould man kape a little store down here beyant, where we do sell fruit an’ such’ loike.” ue) you accuse the prisoner of trying to steal from you ; “i “Oh, me foine apples, yer honor! Sure, he comed along, an’ says he: **‘Ould woman,’ says he, ‘how der yer sell ’em?” “Two for foive cints,’ says “Pl take a barrel,’ says he, ‘*No yer won't,’ says 1. ‘Why not?’ says he, : " “ ‘Because I haven’t ’em,’ says I; ‘an’ wid that he raised up two or three in each hand, an’ began a- chuckin’ ’+m up.in the air an’ a-catchin’ ’em one af- ter the other as they came down, an’ a-sayin’ as how that I see’em an’ I didn’t, an’ I thought he was a- foolin’ loike until the officer grabbed him, an’ then I was sure he was a thafe.” j ‘Do you wish to prefer charges against him?” “Paix, that all depends,” \ “Depends upon what?” SHORTY IN SEARCH OF HIS DAD. ‘How much he’ll give me not ter. Sure, I’m a poor hard-workin’ woman, an’ if he’ll give me ten dollars for the beautiful apples he war a-goin’ ter hook, Ill say no more about it, so I won’t.”’ horty laughed heartily. ay “Silence, prisoner! Take him down-stairs, door- man.” “But I tell yer I didn’t do nuffin’,” said Shorty. “Take him away.’’ “Tll give her ten dollars,” ‘Pll take it,” said the woman, eagerly. “No you won't, Take him away.” ‘T say, sarge, is dis a racket?” “Give me ten dollars,’» moaned the old lady. “All right for you, sarge. Ill get good an’ square for this,” said Shorty, as the door-man led him away. Oh, me poor apples an’ me ten dollars!’’ whined Mrs. O’Hoolihan, i: “You go back to yourstore, and. come here in an our,” “Worra—worra! I'll niver see me ten dollars. Sure there’s no justice at all—at all for a poor woman in this country. Why didn’t ye let him give me satis- fnetion?” “You come back in an hour, and T’ll see that you have satisfaction,” said Polly. And the old woman retired,growling and bewailing her luck, Shorty was placed in a cell and locked in, utterly crushed and bewildered, for the idea of Polly’s re- fusing to recognize him made him feel as though he had found out about the advertising trick, and was bound to get even with him for it, Butit so happened that his father and the Kid were away somewhere together, and nobody but Shanks knew of the affair. . And he saw how the thing was working against Shorty, and that it would do no good to expostulate with the sergeant in command, for he was undoubt- edly only getting square for the colored woman rack- et, and Shorty’s only hope was thatthe magistrate would discharge him in the morning. No sooner was Shorty and the mob cleared out than Sergeant Poily began’to give vent to his feel- ings inloud and continued laughter. He worked the cards so nice that he got the little joker under lock and key at last, and that made amends for everything. He had got the grand laugh on Shorty ie and he felt enough better to forgive every- ng. After keeping him locked up for about half an hour, he sent the door-man to bring him up to the captain’s private office, that officer haying arrived, and been let into the little racket. Shorty appeared, looking decidedly down in the mouth, 7 Polly and the captain were laughing heartily as he was shown in. ; “Well, Shorty, how do you feel now?” asked Polly. “Weel sick. I say, sarge, what sort of a racket do yer call this?” asked Shorty. “Oh, no racket at all. Nothing near so good as ad- vertising for colored help,” said he, looking sharply at Shorty. “Sarge, I weaken,” said he, “You do? And do you own up?” “Own up ter what?” “That advertising racket,” ‘We ??? “Yes; own up, or down you go Breit to stay all night, ares to the Tombs in the morning, sure.”’ ‘well. “Well?” “Der yer remember der jobs yer put up on me?” pene settles it. You Dae y Shorty grinned one of his peculiar grins, which Polly knew so well. “Will yeh shake hands on if, sarge?’ ? “Yes, but if you ever play another such a scaly game on me, I'll put up a job that will send you to the Island.” “All right, shake.’’ : “There’s my hand,’’ said Polly, catching the little fellow with a hearty grip. “Good enough, Come out an’ have a bot, you an’ dercap, Come on, I’ve got a bushel ter tell yer; I’ve found my dad.” “The devi) you have!” d ‘ “Fact, Found him out in California, Rich 4s mud. Come up an’see him, He’s one of der nicest old roosters yer ever saw. Why, he’s one of der gang,” said he, with enthusiasm. “Well—well, that beats me, So you have really found your father?” : “Sure pop.” “No mistake about it?” “Not a eent’s worth, All straight as a gun. up an’ be introduced,” “And his name is Burwick?’ “Dat’s his name. Come up to der hotel an’ I'll tell yer all *bout it. Come on.” At that moment Mrs. O’Hoolihan put in an appear- ance. f “How ’bout me beautiful——” “Oh, here; give her a tenner, sarge,for it’s a chea racket at that price,” said Shorty, interrupting, an handing him a ten, “All right. Now, Mrs, O’Hoolihan, if you ever catch this fellow around your fruit ‘store’ again, you just let him do whatever he likes, for he is good for a ten every time,” said he, cannes her the bill. ‘Heaven bless yer honor. Sure he may clane out Come [THe END.] ‘got up again for the purpose of rubbin ee SS=—O0Geassswaw\»>s>s>5>5 ] the whole store, if he loilkes, if he'll give me ten dol- lars. Faith, he’s a foine little man, so he is, May he have good luck.” “That's allright. Go now,” She didn’t have to be told twice, and with @ heart almost bursting with her good luck, she returned te her apple stand, and proceeded to bully her ‘‘onld man,” after which she got drunk, and kicked the Speleeana into the street, and was locked up for disorderly conduct. Meantime, Shorty and Sergeant Polly returned to the Metropolitan Hotel, where they found the old gent, the, Kid, and Shanks, and after introductiona . were had they proceeded to discuss matters over & bottles of wine, and to laugh at the two latest rackets that had been played on each other, It was, after all, one of the most enjoyable re- unions in the world, for four of them had been so long associated together that they seemed like broth- ers to each other, and like children to the’old man, who had Shaken off so much of his reserve that he showed unmistakably that he was Shorty’s father. And from that hour they all became the firmest of friends, and lunched or drove out together nearly every day. But of course it would be utterly impossible for either Shorty or the Kid to get along without playing a practical joke now and then 6n somebody, and, as a natural consequence, the old gentleman came m for one occasionally as well as anybody else, for Shorty always said: “What's der use of havin’ adad, if yer can’t have some fun with him?” 5 And the old fellow took it all in good part, that is, if he found out who it was who played the jokes on him, and he also manifested a disposition to keep his end up at the fun, frequently playing jokes on his son and grandson, which pleased them quite as much agit did him, In fact, three jollier, merrier, mellower people never lived together than they were. ’ The old man, however, waS getting on in years,and loved his ease and his easy chair more than his sons did, of course, and it was to this éasy chair that they on one occasion paid their particular attention, It was a rich, soft, yielding affair, and the happy old man used to have many a snooze in its lazy em- brace; and one day, for the want of something bet- ter to do, and while the old man was out riding with Shanks, they ripped open the uprolstery in some way, and arranged a needle on the inside so as to be entirely out of sight and feeling, save when the cush- ion was forced down quite a way, when it would arly be felt if not seen by the person sitting down in it. Well, the old gent returned from his ride, and after they had all eaten dinner, they retired to their rooms and he threw himself into his favorite arm chair with a bounce. ji And he bounced out with a degree of fagility that was really surprising, at the same time uttering a loud exclamation, and rubbing the seat of his trous-— ers vigorously. ~ “What's der matter, dad?” asked Shorty, “Hang me if I know,’ said he, running his hand carefully over the cushion, but of course finding nothing in the least suspicious. “Hurt your” “Well, 1thinkso. Hither something pricked me or I got a rheumatic twinge, hang me if I know which.” Once more he satdown. This time more cautious- Wy, and consequently he did not force the needle up rough the upholstery. “Rheumatism, I guess,” he muttered, “but it was an awful keen twinge. Lord, how it ei cten Y'and he himself, “Have her that way often?” asked the Kid. “No, not very often,” replied the old man, and again he threw himself down into the chair, Up he came again, even quicker than before, and he danced around the room for several minutes, say- ing all sorts of things that arenot found in Sunday poy Pooks, and finally the two little rascals began 0 laugh, . “Have you two mischiefs been playing any jokes on me?” he asked, finally. “We?” they both asked, in astonishment. “Oh, all right, I suspect’ that you’have. At al events, I shall send the chair to an upholsterer to- morrow, and let him see what the matter is with it,” and with a suspicious smile on his face, he took an- other chair. But Shorty, Jr., was on hand when the man came to rake the chair away, and by bribing him, managed so that his grandfather never knew what it was that had made him get up out of his comfortable seat se quickly ; whether it was a sharp twinge of the rheum- atism or the sharp point of a needle, But here Lam, atthe end of my story, We have hdd lots cf fun in Shorty’s company, and have fol lowed him from the Atlantic to the Pacific in search of his father. We have seen him in all sorts of scrapes and wild adventures, and seen him safely, joyful, through with all of them; his hopes all real- ized, his future secured; and as what might befall him’ afterwards would most likely be only a repeti- tion of what has already happened, we may as well art with him just here, and let him go on enjoying Pimeelf in his own way, ; Yet we can but feel that, from first to last, he hae been a hero and a favorite, And now let us all shake hands—shake with Shorty, Shorty, Jr,, and Shortw’s
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THE GREAT FIVE-CENT WIDE AWAKE LIBRARY. _ The Largest, Cheapest, Handsomest, and Most Popular Library in the World. ~ 1 Tom Brown's Schooldays 2 The Pirate ‘ ' 8 Robinson Crusoe 4 Jack Sheppard 6 Sinbad, the Sailor 6 Peter Simple 71 Pantomime Joe 8 Snarleyow, the Dog Fiend 9 Aladdin and the Wonderful Lamp 10 Poor Jack 11 Tommy Bounce—comic 12 Shorty ; or, Kicked into Good Luck —comia 18 The Devil’s Diamond 14 Shorty In Luck— comic 15 Dick Dauntless 16 Skinny, the Tin Peddler—comio 17 Dick Turpin 18 Guilliver’s Travels 19 Ali Baba and the Forty Thieves 20 The Mulcahy Twins—comic 21 Jacob Faithful » 22 Oliver Optic’s Engineer Stories 23 Oliver Twist 24 The Image of His Father 25 Gentleman George 26 Gentleman George and His Pal 21 The Dead Boxer 28 Harry Hale’ 29 One of the Boys of New York—comio 30 The King of Diamonds 31 The Four Knaves 32 The Pirate Doctor 33 Jonathan Wild 34 The Pirate Chief. 35 The Smuggler of St. Malo. ~ 38" Little Mack, the Boy Engineer 37 Josephine ; or, the Maid of the @ulf 38 Sea Dog Charlie; or, The Advent- ures of a Boy Hero 39 Paul Jones _ 40 The Hangman of Newgate | 41 The Black Mask’ - » 42 Dot Boy Fritz—comic 43 Demon of the Deep | 44 Mark Graham 45 Starboard Jack "46 San Francisco Bob _ 4T Tom, Dick and the —— —*om4o 48 The Yankee Privateer - 49 The Rover’s Oath Corkey—comic 41 Dick Lightheart | 2 Dick Lightheart’s Trials _ $8 Dick Lightheart’s Triumph (64 Captain Hawke d 55 The Boss Boy _ $6 Shorty, Jr.; or, the Son of His Dad —comic 4 67 The Pirate Schooner 68 The Gold Hunters 69 The Pirates of America 60 The Pirate Cutter 61 The Black Pirate 62 cee Ky4; or, the Pirate of Hell ate 3 Will Waffles ) $4 Three Finger Jack 65 The Sea King 66 Life in the Red Brigade ' 67 Billy Bo'swain - — 68 The Devil on Two Sticks » 69 The Wild Robber - 70 The Highwayman’s Fate 71 The Lighthouse Murder | 12 The Assassin’s Doom "43 The Pirate of the Shoals 24 The Robhers of the Rhine %5 Jack Harkaway’s School Days 16 Harkaway Afloat Tt Harkaway Among the Savages we Harkaway’s Escape >79 Harkaway at Oxford _ 80 Harkaway and the Black Band ‘$1 Harkaway and the Brigands 82 Harkaway and the Spy _ 83 Harkaway Trapped “$4 Harkaway and the Italians 85 Dick Lightheart at Sea 86 Dick Lightheart Around the World » 87 Dick Lightheart in London &8 Dick Lightheart’s Victory _ $9 The Island of Mystery #0 Detective Dan ¥1 Claude Duval $2 Claude and His Pal 93 Duval and Dick 84 Claude in a Fix 95 Duval Betrayed 86 On the Scaffold 87 The Highwayman’s Ride 98 Claude Duval’s Dead Shot 99 Bonnie Black Bess Clande in Jail #01 Duyal's Life Struggie 102 Claude and the Nuns 103 Duval in the Cloister 104 Claude and the Lady 105 Duval on Hand 106 Claude and the Spy 107 Duval in Chains 108 Claude’s Bride 109 Duval on the Road 110 Claude’s Duel 111 Duval and the Maiden 112 Claude in the Toils 118 Duyal and the Casket 114 Claude and His Chum & 115 Duval in Peril a? 116 Claude at Bay 117 Duval and Luke 118 Death of Clande Duval 119 Jack Harkaway and His Son’s Ad- ventures Around the World 120 Harkaway and His Son Homeward Bound 121 Jack Rushton 122 On and Off the Stage B 123 The Bush Boys 124 The Rival Schools 125 Frank, the Fisher Boy 126 Young Tom Rodman 127 Shorty, Jr., on His Far—comio 128 Fred Spangle 129 The Young Tragedian 130 Clarence Rhett 131 Paddy McGroarty 182 Brian the Brave 188 Yank, Shank & Co, 184 Master of Himself | 185 Jim Jams; or, Jack of All Trades— comio 186 The Boy Bohemian 187 The Mysterious Messenger 138 Burt, the Detective 189 “*12;") or, Tracked to Death 140 The Young Ventriloquist 141 Denver Dick 142 Dick Daring . 148 Gypsy Blanche 144 The Boy Clown - 145 Three Yankee Chums 146 Unlucky Tom—comic 147 Lathy—comic 148 The Sea Fiends 149 Under the Ocean 150 Andy Handy 151 Red Leary 152 Daniel Boone 153 Hale and Hearty 154 Tim of the Mail Train 155 Out with Stanley 156 Mad Maurice 157 Shorty and the Count—comto 158 The Wharf Boys : 159 Big Silas 150 Nip and Flip 161 The Four Jacks 162 The Miser of Harlem + 163 Young Harkaway and the Pirates 164 Harkaway’s Triumph 165 Harkaway on Magic Island 166 Ferret, the Little Detective 167 The Man of Many Faces 168 Harkaway’s Peril 169 Harkaway to the Rescue 170 Harkaway, the Magician 171 Reckless Bob na Se entes pe Lion Hunter 0 tler, the Scapegrace 174 The Dwarf King vs 175 The Gallant Middy 176 Harkaway the Avenger 177 The Rival Crusoes 178 Harkaway in Australia 179 Harkaway and the Convicts 180 Harkaway and the Bush-Rangers 181 Chased Around the World 182 The Detective’s Mistake 188 Chips and Chin Chin—comic 184 Chips and Chin Chin Among the Mormons—com ; gis 185 Ohips and Chin Chin’s Adventures with Indians—comic 186 Chips and Chin Chin in Omaha— comic 187 Chips and Chin Chin in St. Louis— comic : 188 Chips and Chin Chin in New York— comic 189 Jack Hawley 190 Two Boston Boys 191 Frank Martin, the Young Rajah 192 The Locksmith’s Apprentice 193 The Charmers and the Charmed 194 The Red Circle 195 The Nemesis; or, Tracked to Their Doom | 196 Tom Trump 197 The Boy Pilot 198 Satan’s Treé 199 The School on Wheels 200 A Lightning Flash 201 The Mystery of a Minute 202 Bound to be An Actor 203 One of the Boys ' 204 The Mystery of the Red River 205 The Mashed Messenger 206 The Prairie Phantom 207 The Young Engineer 208 Fighting Against Odds 209 Harry Halsey 210 Donnell O’Gig 211 The Burglars of New York 212 Jerry O’Keefe’s Crimes 213 Dare Devil Detective 214 Game to the Death 215 Kickapoo Jack 216 The Struggle for a Mine 217 Stump—conric 218 Stump at School—comic 219 Stump atSea—comic 220 Stump and Jack Hawser—conttc 221 uns Racket Below Decks— comic 222 Stump and His Chums Homeward Bound—comic 223 Three of a Kind—comie 224 Charlie, Mike and Don—comie 225 Thirteen 226 The Brotherhood of Death 227 Tricks : 228 Under the Gallows 229 Adrift on @ Floating Island 230 Fred Huzle 281 Shot in the Dark 282 Doonie Crandall 238 Meta, the Girl Orusoe 234 Teddy Doyle 235 A Trip to the Center of the Earth 286 Drifting Harry 237 Rory the Smasher 238 An Irish Boy’s Luck 239 Behind the Bars 240 The Boy Convict 241 Tornado Tim 242 The Boy Avenger 243 Jack the Joker 244 The Irish Robber’s Apprentice 246 Fighting His Way 246 A Knight of the Brush 247 Fritz the Tumbler 248 Iron-Knuckled Ted 249 Dare-Devil Dick 250 The Dock Boys of New York 251 Captain Cartouche 252 The Gypsy Boy’s Vengeance 253 The Boy Miners 254 Water-Duck Jim 255 The King of the Swimming Gang 256 The Flying Ship of the Pacific 257 The Adventures of Harry Franco 268 Cripple Charley 259 The Adventures of Two Tramps 260 Plucky Jimmy 261 The Blacksmith’s Apprentice 262 Jumping Joe 263 Jack Gordon 264 Mat McCarthy’s Fortune 265 London Bob—comic 266 An English Boy in America—comic 267 Scotty, the Terrier 268 Philadelphia Dave 269 Billy the Boxer 270 Cadger Con 271 The False Detective 272 High Falutin’ Jim 273 Charley Lance 274 A Search for a Missing Man 276 Commodore Rip-Rap 276 Teddy O’Lynn 277 The Shadow Ship ') 278 Lone Jack 279 Blue Grass Bob 280 The Wild Rider of Old Kentuck 281 Shoo-Fly; or, Nobody’s Moke—comic 282 Shoo-Fly at School—comec 283 Shoo-Fly in Love—comic 284 Shoo-Fly the Gymnast—comic 285 MAERE the Young Robber of the es' 286 Dashing Bob 287 Johnnie Burgoo 288 Reliable Joe 289 The Yankee Claude Duval 290 Midshipman Ned 291 Tbe Cruise of the Old Ironsides 292 Jack Fenny 293 The Young Irish Brigand 294 Lan@, the Lion 295 Tipton Blue 296 Free-and-Hasy Ned 297 True-Blue; or, Righted at Last 298 That Boy of Ours—comic 299 Tom on His Muscle 800 Bob Short; or, One of ®ur Boys— comic 301 Percy of the Strong Arm 302 Jack Manly 303 Freebooters of California 804 Captain Merritt and His Ramgers 305 Nero, the Hunehback 306 Bell-Ringer of Trinity 807 Harry Harley 308 The Arctic Queen 809 Harry Fitzroy 810 The Heart of Oak 811 The School on the Sea 312 The Golden Island 313 Among the Savages 814 The Specter Schoolboy a 315 Headman of Old Londoa Bridge 816 Harold Forrester 817 Mot o’ the Mist 318 Eveline Duke 819 Mark Bradley 820 Driven to Sea 821 Routing the Redskins 2 822 Tom Fox + 323 Adventures of a' Philadeiphia De. “tective 824 Richard Sayage 825 Mystery of @ Mis-spent Life 826 Double-Six 827 Dominoes of Death 328 Gypsy Bess 829 The Queen of the Highway 330. Rudolph, the Traitor 831 The Boy Cavaliers 332 Young Captain Kidd 833 The Secret of Wizard Lake 334 The Prairie Witch < 335 The Hunters of the Silver Tras 836 Traveling With Barnum 337 Three Dashing Hussars 838 Pat O’Corker 839 The Diamond Bye 340 Jack of the Naval Brigade 341 The Zulu’s Daughter 842 The Haunted House of Deadman’s Corner 843 Sir Guy’s Secret 844 Fortunes of an Acrobat 845 For the Green Flag of Old Ireland 846 Kathleen O’Shanghnessy 347 Tom, the Midshipman 848 Out With Captain Cook 349 Every Inch a Sailor 3850 Ralph, the Light Dragoon 851 The Brothers in Arms 352 Jack of Cheapside 358 The Green Banner of Islam 854 The Colonel’s Daughter 855 Walter’s Secret 856 The Outlaws of Berkeley Forest 357 Red Spear, the Outlaw 358 The House of a Hundred Terrors 859 Oswald, the Unknown 860 Adventures of a Free Lance 861 The Treacherous Knight 362 Young Harkaway aud His Boy Tinker 363 Tinker’s Man Bogey 364 Young Harkaway in Spain 365 Young Harkaway in Turkey 366 Mole Among the Mussulmans 367 Young Harkaway and the Arabs 368 one Harkaway and the Counter feiters ' 869 Seeret of the Traitor’s Gate 370 Waif of the Tower $71 Ralph Wildhawk 872 The Brigand Chief 878 Marco Bravo 874 Zara, the Gypsy 876 The Servian Spy 876 Sword and Cimeter 377 Adam Bell 378 Archers of Englewood 4; 879 Knight of the Red Crosa 5 880 Jack-o’-the-Oudgel 381 Croquard, the Free Lanee 382 The Fair Maid of Kent 383 se a Mess tee te $84 The Oxford and Cambri Rights — 385 The Wild Huntsman a 386 Tom Mansfield, the Smuggler 887 The Sunken Treasure 888 The Slave’s Revenge 389 Cris. Carrol, the Scout 890°Phil Rayleigh, a London Aras 391 The Knight of the Iron Hand 392 Tom Lester 893 Bicycle Bob 894 Mark Darrell 395 Oscar Merivale eS 396 Tom Oakland BY te bee au a eee k orm, the Pittsburgh Deteok ve 899 Rob Racket m 400 Gypsy Dick Ms You can obtain any of the above books from any newsdealer, or they will be sent to your address, post-paid, by sending the price te i Box 2780. \ FRANK TOUSEY, Publisher, 34 and 36 North Moore St. N. Y.
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ae ~~, THE GREAT 5 CENT WIDE AWAKE LIBRARY. The Largest, ‘Cheapest, Handsomest, and Most Popular Library IN TEE: WW ORID. Containing Tales of the Sea, Indian Stories, Mexican Romances and Adventures in all parts of the World. — ) \ , READ THE FQ ULO WING LIST OF THE LATEST ISSUES PUBLISHED: \ 401 The Red Riyer Pilot 2 The James Boys and the Vigilantes 524. Only a Cabin Boy A * 402 Catana ; or, The Robber’s Daughter iss Buffalo Bill’s Chum 525 Astray in Africa | _ 403 Detective Sketches 464 Denver Dan and His Chums, by ‘‘ Noname” | 526 Tiger Ted ¥ 404 The Boy Scouts of the Sierras 465 The Old Magician 527 The James Boys’ Cave i - 405 The Heir of Longworth 466 The James Boys and the Ku Klux 528 The Black Mask 406 A Ghost in the Mirror and Other Stories ~ | 467 The Brother’s Crime 529 Sou’west Fred 407 Strange Stories of Maniacs 468 Molly Bland, the Detective 530 Bob Rollick, the Yankee Notion Drummer. ¢ 408 A Skeleton’s Legacy 469 The James Boys in California Illustrated—comic 409 The Pirate’s Son 470 Tumbling Tim—comic 531 The James Boys as Bank Robbers Ps 410 The Young Revenue Detective 471 Mat of the Mountain 532 The Black Hercules 411 Little Hal, the Boy Engineer 472 The Picador of Chapultepec 533. Fireman Dick © ; : - 412 Captain Hurricane; or, The Waif of the | 473 The Lost Island. 534 The Shortys out for Fun. By Peter Pad. # Wreck 474 The James Boys as Train Wreckers ‘Tilustrated, — comic ; 413 Tow-path Ted 475 The Maxwell Brothers 535 Red River Bill 414 The Ghost of Raul Priestly > 476 Stuttering Sam—comic 536 Special Express Ned 415 The Cruise of the ‘ Beauty ” 477 The Mad Hunter 537 The Shortys’ Christmas and New. Year at 416 Joe Jordan . 478 Persimmon Bill “a Home. By Peter Pad—comie ‘ 417 Ebenezer Crow—comic 479 The James Boys in Minnesota : 538 The James Boys’ Brides ~ 418 Oharlie Chariton 480 Buck Bidwell « 539 The Spies of the. Delaware ye ; * 439 Gorilla Geor, 481 Toby the Spy ‘is 540 Denver Dan, Jr. » : 420 Stuttering Mose 482 The James Boys as Highway men 541] The Steam Man of the: Plains A421 The Kingdom in the Sea, a Sequel to‘ Dick | 483 Denver Dan in New York, by ‘‘Noname” | 642 On Deck © ities Dauntless 4 484 Tommy Bounce, name? 493 Silvershot 556 The Coral Cave ; 434 Shorty in Search of His Dad—comic 494 The Silent Slayer 557 The Army Scout 1 oe ay 435 The Blasted Pine; or, The Three Boy Scouts | 495 The Irish, Claude Duval as a Rebel _ | 558 Missouri Jack and His Band of eA 436 Denver Dan and the Road Agents, by ‘*No-} 496 Astray in the Clouds” 559 Lasso Luke : name” | 497 The Shortys Married and Settled’ Down— | 560 Shady Dell School ' 437 The Freebooter’s Secret te comic. d La 561 The’ Man of Gold) | as 438 Sawdust Charlie 498. The Tree of Death 562. The Mad Man of the North Pole. 459 Denver Dan and. the Counterfeiters, by | 499 The Twin Detectives ; or, True to Hach | 563 Extree Nick, the New York Nero ‘Noname” 4 Other 564 Oath-bound 440 The Train Robbers;, or, A Story of the 500 William Tell. the Dead Shot of the West © | 565 Custer’s Last Shot. . James Boys 601 Trapper Duke 566 Gassy ‘Hyde. 441, Ned Owen; or, The Mystery of a Missing Ship | 502 Leon the Outlaw. _ | 567 Fred Hazard, the Star of the Circus 442, Denver Dan Outwitted, by “ Noname ” 503 Tommy Bounce, Ji. in Collezer* covey 568 Coon-Skin Kit, the Dashing Governnient 443 The Girdle of Gold 504 Around The World ; : Scout 444 The Treasure Cave ft 505 Out with the Jeannette 569 Denver Dan, Jr., and the Renegade 445 Denver Dan the Sheriff, by “‘ Nohame LY 506 ‘Captain Tom ake: 570 Billy Badger; or, The My sterions Unknown - 446 Long Paw 507 Fred Ford | of the Bank-Robbers’ Band y 447 A Yankee Boy in Afti ict 508 Billy Bakkus—comic 571 The James Boys’ Fate 448 Black and Blue: 509 Bow and Arrow Jack | 572 Mail-Car Ned; or, Falsely Accused 449 Ivan and Ismail x 510 ‘Arctic Phil 573 The Maniac Pirate. My 450 Denver Dan’s Peril, by “ Noname ” 511 Fred Baxter 574 Smekestack Bob. 5 451 The True Life of Billy, the ped 512 The Brookfield Bank Robbers 575 Nimble Nip, the Imp of the School. 452 The Russian Spy >. 513 The Border Bandits 576 ‘King Morgan, the Terror of the Seas. 458 The Creole Brothers 514 Tho James Boys and Timberlake 577 The’ Convict's Oath. : ete e Castaways 515 Vighting Joe + . ae 578 The Serpent Queen. | 455 Denver Dan to the Rescue, by “Noname »] 516 Invineible Bill. ; 579 The Fortune Hunters, 456 Condemned; or, Number 709 517 Skeleton Gulch | 580 The Fatal Star. ' 457 The James Boys as Guerrillas’ | 518 The Trish Claude Duval as a Privateer 581 The Bootblack’s Plot, 458 Billy Bangs’ Schooldays 519 The Wolverine 582 Huron Harry. | ae 439 ‘The Mad Doctor 520 Ben Bolt 583 Doomed; or, The Secret League of Boston. » - A60 Zola, the Old Trapper’s Daughter 521 The James Boys in Court 584 The Maniac Rider i sf 461 The Shortys’ Trip’ Around ‘the World, by |522 Bob Rollick; or, What Was He Born For? | 585 The Gypsies’ Den é 7 “* Peter Pad,” handsomely illustrated by, —comic : 586 Matt Merry Thomas Wor th-—comic 523 Northwoods, Tom y 587 The Phantom Avenger i . SPECIAL N. i, THE LIFE AND TRIAL OF FRANK JAMES, -. Price 100, . SPECIAL N. 2, TRUE STORIES TOLD BY FRANK JAMES, - - Price 10c, Do not, fail to purchase on from your newsdealers, as they all haye them on hand ;. or they. will he sent to your address, postag: re ES on réceipt of price, 5 cents. esulen ts : : AEROS TOUSEY, Publisher, > “Box 2780, ‘She a 34 and 86 North Moore Street; N: an he