when he gits back ter town.”
“Poor Toppy,” I said, “It will grieve him sorely, when he learns that
the gallant Jim is gone forever.”
The burly miner watched me curiously as I opened and read the letter.
The expression of my face as I read must have startled him, for he
grasped me by the arm and exclaimed, “What’s the matter, Doc; air y’u
sick?” I handed him the letter and staggered to a chair.
Big Brown laboriously read the letter through to the end; When he came
to the signature he put his huge hand gently on my shoulder and said:
“Doc, ye needn’t be ashamed uv relations like him, even if he was a
gambler. Who was he, anyhow?”
And I was not ashamed as I answered--
“My brother--little Jim.”
TOMMY THE OUTCAST
“Hello, Fido!”
“I beg pardon, sir; did you speak to me?”
“Why, don’t you know me, Fido?”
“Great heavens! Tommy Baker, as I’m alive! Why, what on earth--?”
“I don’t wonder that you are surprised, Fido, old boy--for I’m not
the same Thomas Baker as of yore. Four years away from the old farm
have wrought great changes in me. Four years of life in a large city,
with its ups and downs, its luxuries and its hardships, are enough to
demoralize anybody. And still, you look sleek and comfortable enough.”
“Oh, thank you, Tommy,” replied Fido, “I am doing tolerably well,
that’s a fact. You see, I’m living with Mrs. Geeswillem--she’s the wife
of old Geeswillem the brewer, you know, who bought me just after you
ran away from home. I’ve got a mighty soft job, and don’t you forget
it. I have only one complaint to make, and that is that my mistress
insists on making me wear this measly red blanket, and this stiff
collar with its confounded bells. Then, too, I have to ride out with
her every pleasant afternoon, and she stuffs me with _bon bons_ and
such truck until I feel like a corner in sugar stock. Why, Tommy, old
chap--do--you--know--I haven’t even _smelled_ a rat since I took my
present place!”
“Ah, me!” said Tommy, “I haven’t had many chances to smell anything
else for the last two years, and the rats I _have_ had, haven’t been
the corn-fed article we used to hunt together down at Baker’s farm,
I can tell you. How I miss ’em! And the cream, and buttermilk, and
sausages and--”
“Great Scott! Tommy,” cried Fido, “don’t ever mention sausage to me
again! If you only knew--!”
“Pardon me, Fido. In my glowing recollection of pleasures past, I
forgot that you have been living in the city for some time and have
probably long since discovered that all is not gold that glitters.
There’s many a tragedy imprisoned within the cover of the city
sausage. And yet, Fido, such reflections should be valuable to you as
inculcating a lesson of Christian humility. If this be not enough,
look at me, and think how ephemeral is terrestrial glory. I was once
as thou art--fat, pampered, happy, and with never a thought of the
morrow. Ah, my boy! who can control his own destiny; who can govern the
mysterious workings of fate?”
“Well, Tommy,” said Fido, “you evidently haven’t regulated yours to any
large extent. If you have, you’d better let somebody else take the job,
for you don’t seem to be making a brilliant success of it. But tell me,
what has brought you to this? You were as sleek and dandified a fellow
as ever wore whiskers when I saw you last. Don’t you remember the time
the boys got up that serenade for you and sang ‘Oh he’s a dude, a dandy
dude!’ until the roofs were covered with boot jacks a foot deep? Whew!
but weren’t you mad though?”
“Heigho!” sighed Tommy, “if anybody should serenade me in that fashion
nowadays, I don’t think I could accuse him of being personal--I look
like ‘the last run o’ shad.’ But you have asked me for my history
since we were on the farm together. If you have patience to listen to
the yarn of a miserable outcast, I’ll gladly tell you my story. My
appearance makes it unnecessary for me to remark that I am no longer
Thomas Baker, Esquire, but Tommy the Tramp, as the haughty young
Duchesse de Maltesa, who lives in the next block, calls me, and you
are likely to lose caste if you are seen talking with me in public.
Let’s make a sneak into the alley over yonder. There’s a big dry-goods
box over there behind that brick barn where we can talk without fear of
interruption.”
“Why, Tommy Baker!” said Fido indignantly, drawing himself up to his
full height, his eyes flashing fire. “What do you take me for--a man?
I’ll have you to understand that I never went back on a friend in my
life. Do you suppose I care a straw for other people’s opinions? Not a
bit of it! I’m all wool and a yard wide, and don’t you forget it. If it
wasn’t necessary to wear this dandy trash in order to hold my job, I’d
tear it off in a holy minute. Not another word, sir!--or I’ll roll in
the mud and prove to you that I am your old pard--_semper fidelis_, and
all that--even if I go to the pound for it.”
“Dear old Fido!” cried Tommy, his eyes filling with tears. “You are
indeed worthy of your name. Greater love than this hath no dog, that he
loseth his job for a friend. But, old fellow, to be candid with you, I
don’t feel as easy as I might. An awful accident happened this morning
to some dear, sweet, tender little chickens in that big yard on the
corner, and while my lean and hungry appearance shows my innocence only
too plainly, it’s best not to take any chances. Besides, I couldn’t
talk freely in this public place.”
“Well, Tommy,” said Fido, “if that’s the way you feel, we will do as
you suggest. So far as the chickens are concerned, however, I don’t
think you need any X ray to prove an alibi.” And Fido glanced pityingly
at poor Tommy’s spectre-like frame and diaphanous hide.
“A little slower, please,” said Tommy, as he limped along after his
friend. “You see, my left fore-foot is a bit lame--I cut it on a piece
of broken glass the other night. There’s a lot of miserable, depraved,
medical students in a boarding house over on Ashland Boulevard, who
amuse themselves by throwing beer bottles at respectable people on the
roofs. They never throw any full ones at a fellow though, you can just
bet on that. It isn’t really safe to venture out on a roof after dark
in that neighborhood. Why, those cruel devils struck a lady friend of
mine, Mrs. Felida Black, the other night, and almost broke her tail
off!”
“Horrible!” cried Fido. “Why is it that those two-legged brutes can’t
be suppressed? Well, that comes of being born without a soul. Such
fellows really don’t know any better. There is a so-called Humane
Society here, the business of which is to look after decent four-footed
people, but it doesn’t do much but pay big salaries to its officers.
The society winks whenever a ragamuffin throws a brickbat at a fellow,
but just let some doctor operate on us under chloroform and--My God!
Tommy, old fellow, what’s the matter? Here, lean on my shoulder. Never
mind the blanket--who cares for that?”
“It’s nothing, Fido, just a little temporary faintness, that’s all. You
see, I--well, I’ll tell you all about it by and by.”
“Well, Tommy, your dry-goods box is quite cozy, after all.”
“I fear it hardly comes up to your usual accommodations,” replied
Tommy, “but it is at least safe, and that’s a very important point with
me. Take a seat on that piece of carpet over yonder; it’s clean and may
be homelike to you. I? Oh, this straw will do for me. It’s a trifle
musty, but we can’t be too particular in these democratic times. Are
you comfortable?”
“Yes, thank you,” replied Fido, “You must remember that I am a country
dog in spite of my cloth.”
“Very well, then,” said Tommy, “not being habituated to that nasty
tobacco used by humans, we will, not light a weed first. I will begin
my story without any such offensive preliminary.
“As you are well aware, my dear Fido, I was a decent enough fellow in
my youth, save for my somewhat foppish tendencies. Being--ahem!--a
rather handsome chap, you will recollect that I was quite popular with
the ladies. As is usually the case with such young fellows, I was at
first pampered and then--spoiled. I remember with keen remorse that
practically all my friends eventually became estranged from me through
my self-conceit. You alone were loyal, and always ready to defend
and advise me. As for my own family--they had long since ceased to
recognize me when I left the old place.
“It was the old story--I became very unhappy, and felt that no one
understood or appreciated me. I did not have sense enough to understand
that it was my own failings that had caused me to lose my former
popularity. I believed that the coldness of my friends was due to their
jealousy and malicious envy.
“It was not long before I determined, with an ‘I’ll show ’em’ desire
for revenge, that I would leave the old farm at the first opportunity,
and seek a field where my talents would be appreciated at their true
value. And then came the tempter.
“One day while you were away with little Tod Baker on a fishing
excursion, I received a call from Pete Tucker of Posyville--I don’t
think you ever met him. Pete had seen a good deal of the world, and his
stories of adventure were perfectly fascinating to me. He had been to
sea several times, had spent a couple of seasons doing the happy family
act with a circus and, at the time of his visit to me, was living in
Chicago--having come home for a few days’ vacation. He said a great
deal about the pleasures of city life, and informed me that he had a
most delightful situation where he mingled with the best society and
had very little to do to earn what he described as an enormous salary.
“‘Tommy, my boy,’ he said, slapping me familiarly on the shoulder, ‘you
are a blamed fool to bury yourself out here in the country! Come back
to the city with me, and I’ll get you a nice soft berth where you can
make something of yourself.’ I yielded only too readily to the tempter
and long before you returned home, my dear Fido, I was on my way to
Chicago.
“I had never before been in a large city, hence Chicago unfolded a new
world to me--a world that seemed as fair as I have since found it to be
corrupt.
“Pete had told me the truth, in some respects, regarding his situation.
He was employed as chief mouser in the bar-room of a fashionable hotel,
and living on the fat of the land. I was soon installed as assistant
mouser, the rat department being under the management of a terrier
gentleman named Foxy. And now came my initiation into the mysteries of
office-holding.
“It was with all the honest enthusiasm of youth that I began my duties,
and without noting the methods of my superiors in office I worked hard
day and night in the conscientious effort to secure the approbation of
my employers. Pete and Foxy observed my industry with great curiosity
at first, and then seemed to be somewhat amused by my actions. I
finally discovered that they were actually laughing at me. This
bewildered me, and I finally ventured to ask for an explanation.
“‘Ha! ha! ha!’ laughed my colleagues. ‘What a young innocent it is, to
be sure!’ ‘Why,’ said Pete, ‘you couldn’t see through a millstone with
a hole in it! We used to work ourselves to death just as you are doing,
but we’ve got a little sense nowadays, eh, Foxy?’
“‘You bet your boots, pardner!’ replied the terrier.
“‘Now, see here, Tommy,’ continued Pete, ‘I’ll tell you just how the
thing stands. We found out long ago that hard work didn’t pay, and
made up our minds to do as little work and have as good a time as we
possibly could.
“‘Among the patrons of this place is a number of politicians and
policemen. I tell you what, Tommy, those are the boys who are on to
their jobs! Chancing to overhear some of their conversation at various
times, I speedily discovered that I was making a blamed fool of myself.
I then resolved to hold my job just as politicians and policemen do.
“‘Foxy and I have come to an understanding with our rodent friends,
and with a little care on their part, we have managed to avoid all
suspicion that we are not attending strictly to business.
“‘Once in a while I pick up a dead rat or mouse in the alley somewhere,
and leave him around where the old man is sure to notice him--see?
Sometimes a strange rodent blows in here, and forgets to bring his
pull with him, and we nail _him_ to the earth in great shape. I tell
you what, Tommy, work was never made for gentlemen--and Foxy and I are
gents from way back. We’ve got a soft thing here, and you’re in on it.
Plenty to eat, drink enough to float a ship, and a soft warm bed. What
more could anybody ask?’
“Alas! Fido, old friend, how alluring to unwary youth is gilded
temptation! I followed the dishonest advice of my companions and fell
into their evil ways, and like most young persons of little experience,
I was soon anxious to outdo my models in the extent and variety of my
dissipation. I ate, drank and made merry with all the abandon of an old
timer.
“The example of my associates, bad as it was, could not be compared
with that set for me by some of the two-legged patrons of the place.
Pete may have been right about their social position, but of all
the vulgar, profane, beastly fellows I ever saw, the young bloods
who frequented that bar were the worst. But my prejudices were soon
overcome, and I came to believe that such qualities were absolutely
essential to fellowship in the smart set of a great city. And so
I continued in my evil ways, my life being one continual round of
hilarious and intemperate pleasure.
“The outcome was precisely what was to have been expected. I fell
seriously ill, and had it not been for a splendid constitution derived
from my early life in the country, I most certainly would have died.
I finally became convalescent and was speculating on how soon I
would likely be able to get to business again, when an unlooked for
complication set in. I caught the mange, and in a few weeks was a
perfect fright. My hide looked as if it had been plucked out in spots.
It was not long before some of the patrons of the place noticed my
condition and commented sarcastically upon it to my employer. One man
said I ought to go to the Springs and boil out, whatever that may mean.
“I received but little consolation from Pete and Foxy; indeed, they
were quite shy of me after my skin trouble developed, and, as you might
suppose, my life was most miserable.
“But my troubles had only begun. A short time after this I overheard my
employer conversing with a rough-looking man, who used to hang about
the place doing odd jobs for drinks. To my consternation, the boss was
making arrangements with that infamous rowdy to take my life that very
night! I listened to the foul plot with my heart in my mouth. I nearly
fainted, so great was my horror and agitation. What to do I hardly knew
at first. I no longer had confidence in Pete and Foxy, and would not
ask their advice. I finally determined to try to make my escape before
the fatal moment should arrive.
“Evening came, and with it my opportunity to escape. Just at dusk,
before the gas was lighted, I sneaked out of the alley door between the
heels of a customer, and arriving in the open air, ran as fast as my
trembling legs could carry me until I reached a part of the city far
distant from the hotel where my would-be assassins were probably even
then searching for their intended victim.
“For some weeks after my escape, I led a paw-to-mouth existence.
Half-starved, despondent, set upon by strange dogs, stoned by cruel
vicious boys--I often regretted that I had not permitted my life to
be taken by that ruffian at the hotel. He would have drowned me, most
likely, and death by drowning would have been far pleasanter than the
life I subsequently led. You may wonder why I did not commit suicide,
but frankly, I hadn’t courage enough for that. Some folks say that only
cowards commit suicide, but don’t you ever believe it.
“The horror of my transition from the easy life at the hotel to that
of a homeless, despised wanderer, was something of which you can have
no conception, my dear Fido, and I sincerely hope you may never pass
through so terrible an experience as I had at that time and have been
having since I--but I am getting ahead of my story.
“I don’t know how I lived through the terrible ordeal of starvation and
abuse to which I was subjected. I was inexperienced and very sensitive
to hardships. Nothing could disturb me now, but then--ah me! How tender
is youth!
“After some weeks of terrible privation and physical torture, I began
to believe that the fates were against me, when the tide of my affairs
unexpectedly turned.
“I had crawled into an open basement window in the rear of a modest
and unpretentious-looking house over on Adams Street one stormy night,
hoping to find something to satisfy my terrible hunger. To my despair,
everything was under lock and key. Noticing a number of rat holes
about, I determined to make an attempt to capture a rodent or two for
my supper, and posted myself at the hole that looked most promising.
“Game was scarce; in my then weakened state my vigil was too fatiguing
and I fell asleep at my post. When I finally awoke I was horrified to
find myself in the hands of a woman!
“You better believe I was frightened! Why, my dear Fido, I never had
such a scare in my life. But fortunately I had no cause for alarm; my
captor--who proved to be the cook--was most kind to me. She took me
up stairs to the kitchen and gave me a good, substantial meal and a
warm, soft bed. For the first time in many weeks I passed a comfortable
night, free from the pangs of hunger and unrest.
“When morning came, I of course supposed I would be told to go. To my
delight I was not only given a sumptuous breakfast, but nothing was
said about my departure, and I began to hope that I might be able to
secure a permanent position with the family.
“After I had finished my breakfast, the cook disappeared for a few
moments. She soon returned accompanied by two children, whom she called
Johnny and Ethel. They spoke to me kindly, and Ethel said:
“‘Oh, Johnny, let’s ask mamma if we can’t keep the poor thing!’
“‘Let’s do,’ cried Johnny, delightedly, ‘and I’ll ask papa to give
us some liniment for him, too, he looks just like he was havin’ the
measles.’
“‘Pshaw! me darlints,’ said the cook, ‘d’ye shpose yer pa’ll be afther
docthorin’ cats?’
“‘Of course he will,’ replied Ethel, ‘didn’t he fix Willie Thompson’s
dog when he broke his leg?’
“Sure enough, my dear Fido, the children’s papa was a doctor, and he
soon cured my skin trouble. After I was myself again, there was no
longer any danger of being asked to leave, for the children became very
fond of me; even the baby seemed to take a great fancy to me.
“I got along famously with the children, although they were a little
rough at times. Johnny was somewhat inclined to be gay once in a while,
but I came out all right. I remember one close call I had, though.
Ethel wanted to play I was sick one day, and that Johnny was a doctor.
They gave me some of the worst stuff a fellow ever tasted--just held
me and poured it down my neck! Then Master Johnny suddenly discovered
that I had ‘tonsillitis,’ whatever that is. He’d heard his papa use
the word, I s’pose. I must be ‘operated,’ the little rascal said, and
going into the doctor’s surgery he got a vicious looking instrument.
Ethel held me, and the amateur doctor proceeded to plunge his devilish
contrivance down my throat! After fishing up a few chunks of spleen,
and liver, and things, Johnny let me go, saying, ‘Madam, your child
will get well now.’ I did get well, but my internal revenue and things
have never since felt just right.
“But Johnny was my friend just the same. Gosh!--how he did lick a rude,
vulgar boy who threw stones at me one day! ’Twould have done your heart
good to see him.
“Ethel and I used to have some awfully nice times together. She used
to dress me up in doll’s clothes and play I was a baby. And then she
would put me in a little cradle and rock me to sleep. The dear child
used to be so pleased because I lay so still, and she used to say I was
‘a dear, good, sweet little kitty.’ To tell the truth, though, I just
had to lie still, for those long clothes used to trip me up every time
I tried to walk. I did try to sneak away one time, and fell down stairs
and almost broke my neck.
“But the baby was my special delight. He was a fat, roly-poly, sweet
faced youngster as ever you saw. His skin was like a pink rose-leaf,
and his mouth was as fresh--well, as fresh as new milk. Whenever the
folks weren’t looking, I used to climb into the crib and little Harry
and I would have a high old time, I tell you. He would maul me about
for a little while and then hug and kiss me just awful nice. And then
when we’d got all tired out he would snuggle up close to me and go to
sleep--and I would lie there quite still and watch him while he slept.
“The folks would catch me in the crib sometimes, and whew! but then
there was a row, and no mistake! They used to just paralyze me--said
I’d suck the baby’s breath, you know. The stupids! Why should I do
that? I like babies, but lunching on babyfied air wouldn’t do me in
those days, though it might be substantial enough now. Human folks have
some queer notions, eh, Fido?”
“Oh, well, you know, Tommy,” said Fido, “that out-of-date ‘sucking the
breath’ business is an old woman’s notion, but humans don’t seem to
have much judgment. They still believe in miracles and all that, and
the breath-sucking theory shouldn’t surprise you.”
“Speaking of the peculiarities of humanity, Fido,” said Tommy, “isn’t
it queer that humans don’t like music?”
“Yes, I have often noted the fact, on occasions when I have sung to the
moon,” replied Fido.
“Well,” said Tommy, “the folks at the doctor’s house used to play on
an old rattle-box of a piano till they fairly made me sick, but just
let me sing ever so little and there was trouble at once. You will
recall that in the old days I used to be quite proud of my voice. I
supposed that I had some vocal talent left and I have done a little
singing since I came to the city. I fear however, that my voice is not
appreciated here. My city neighbors were the worst kind of kickers, and
caused me no end of trouble. You see, there was a young lady cat who
lived near us and--By the way, I didn’t tell you about how I first fell
in love, did I? Well, it was just--the--richest--thing!”--
“No doubt, no doubt,” exclaimed Fido, hastily interrupting, “but just
hear that bell. It’s nine o’clock and--”
“Oh, well, I was digressing anyway,” said Tommy.
“As I was saying, there was a young lady cat living near us with whom I
will confess I was somewhat smitten. I used to call on her evenings. I
was too busy to call day-times, and besides, a tin roof is just awful
on a fellow’s feet when the sun’s out. I often used to serenade her,
accompanying my singing with the violin. She was very fond of stringed
instruments, and especially the violin. She used to say there was no
musical instrument that was so cat-like and natural in its tone and
feeling. The dear girl--what exquisite musical taste she had! Ah! how
I loved her! Why, I felt, when in her presence, as though I were full
of vibrating E strings--_au naturel_, but none the less vibrating.
And I mind me well that she was not unresponsive. Shall I ever forget
that mellow September night when she first confessed she loved me?
‘Ah! Thomaso,’ she cried--(Thomaso, by the way, was a feminine conceit
of hers; she had been abroad, you know)--‘Ah! Thomaso, how bleak and
drear were the most pretentious roof without thee! Where is there such
another form, or voice so sweet as thine? The girl who did not love
thee would be lost to all appreciation of the feline form divine. I
love thee, Thomaso, oh, how I love thee!’
“Of course, I blushed, my dear Fido--I knew only too well how
undeserving I was.
“But, to quote an old chestnut, the course of true love was by no means
smooth with me. It chanced that the attic room of the house next to
the one in which my charmer lived, was occupied by a young man named
Jenkins. Now that fellow Jenkins had the fool notion that he was
musical. That wouldn’t have been so bad, though his singing was vile,
but he wanted to monopolize the singing business altogether. You never
saw such an envious brute! Just as soon as I began my lovely serenades,
that despicable counter-jumper would begin throwing old boots and
chunks of coal at me. But I kept my temper and said nothing, though I
was mad enough to claw the face off him.