A VISION SENT
“Where's the arrestin' come in?” demanded Stitt.
“Comes quick now, Bailey. Plenty quick enough for me and Jonadab, I tell
you that! After we got to our room the Cap'n went to sleep pretty soon
and I set in the one chair, readin' the newspaper and wishin' I hadn't
ate so many of the warm bricks that the Golconda folks hoped was
biscuit. They made me feel like a schooner goin' home in ballast. I
guess I was drowsin' off myself, but there comes a most unearthly yell
from the bed and I jumped ha'f out of the chair. There was Jonadab
settin' up and lookin' wild.
“'What in the world?' says I.
“'Oh! Ugh! My soul!' says he.
“'Your soul, hey?' says I. 'Is that all? I thought mebbe you'd lost a
quarter.'
“'Barzilla,' he says, comin' to and starin' at me solemn, 'Barzilla,
I've had a dream--a wonderful dream.'
“'Well,' I says, 'I ain't surprised. A feller that h'isted in as much
fried dough as you did ought to expect--'
“'But I tell you 'twas a WONDERFUL dream,' he says. 'I dreamed I was on
Blank Street, where we was this mornin', and Patrick Kelly comes to me
and p'ints his finger right in my face. I see him as plain as I see
you now. And he says to me--he said it over and over, two or three
times--Seventeen,” says he, “Seventeen.” Now what do you think of that?'
“'Humph!' I says. 'I ain't surprised. I think 'twas just seventeen
of them biscuits that you got away with. Wonder to me you didn't see
somebody worse'n old Pat.'
“But he was past jokin'. You never see a man so shook up by the
nightmare as he was by that one. He kept goin' over it and tellin' how
natural old Kelly looked and how many times he said 'Seventeen' to him.
“'Now what did he mean by it?' he says. 'Don't tell me that was a common
dream, 'cause twa'n't. No, sir, 'twas a vision sent to me, and I know
it. But what did he mean?'
“'I think he meant you was seventeen kinds of an idiot,' I snorts,
disgusted. 'Get up off that bed and stop wavin' your arms, will you?
He didn't mean for you to turn yourself into a windmill, that's sartin
sure.'
“Then he hits his knee a slap that sounds like a window blind blowin'
to. 'I've got it!' he sings out. 'He meant for me to go to number
seventeen on that street. That's what he meant.'
“I laughed and made fun of him, but I might as well have saved my
breath. He was sure Pat Kelly's ghost had come hikin' back from the
hereafter to tell him to go to 17 Blank Street and find his boy. 'Else
why was he ON Blank Street?' he says. 'You tell me that.'
“I couldn't tell him. It's enough for me to figger out what makes live
folks act the way they do, let alone dead ones. And Cap'n Jonadab was a
Spiritu'list on his mother's side. It ended by my agreein' to give the
Jimmie chase one more try.
“'But it's got to be the last,' I says. 'When you get to number
seventeen don't you say you think the old man meant to say “seventy” and
stuttered.'
“Number 17 Blank Street was a little combination fruit and paper store
run by an Eyetalian with curly hair and the complexion of a molasses
cooky. His talk sounded as if it had been run through a meat chopper.
All he could say was, 'Nica grape, genta'men? On'y fifteen cent a pound.
Nica grape? Nica apple? Nica pear? Nica ploom?'
“'Kelly?' says Jonadab, hollerin' as usual. 'Kelly! d'ye understand?
K-E-L-Kel L-Y-ly, Kelly. YOU know, KELLY! We want to find him.'
“And just then up steps a feller about six feet high and three foot
through. He was dressed in checkerboard clothes, some gone to seed, and
you could hardly see the blue tie he had on for the glass di'mond in
it. Oh, he was a little wilted now--for the lack of water, I judge--but
'twas plain that he'd been a sunflower in his time. He'd just come out
of a liquor store next door to the fruit shop and was wipin' his mouth
with the back of his hand.
“'What's this I hear?' says he, fetchin' Jonadab a welt on the back like
a mast goin' by the board. 'Is it me friend Kelly you're lookin' for?'
“I was just goin' to tell him no, not likin' his looks, but Jonadab cut
in ahead of me, out of breath from the earthquake the feller had landed
him, but excited as could be.
“'Yes, yes!' says he. 'It's Mr. Kelly we want. Do you know him?'
“'Do I know him? Why, me bucko, 'tis me old college chum he is. Come on
with me and we'll give him the glad hand.'
“He grabs Jonadab by the arm and starts along the sidewalk, steerin' a
toler'ble crooked course, but gainin' steady by jerks.
“'I was on me way to Kelly's place now,' says he. 'And here it is. Sure
didn't I bate the bookies blind on Rosebud but yesterday--or was it the
day before? I don't know, but come on, me lads, and we'll do him again.'
“He turned in at a little narrer entry-like, and went stumblin' up a
flight of dirty stairs. I caught hold of Jonadab's coat tails and pulled
him back.
“'Where you goin', you crazy loon?' I whispered. 'Can't you see he's
three sheets in the wind? And you haven't told him what Kelly you want,
nor nothin'.'
“But I might as well have hollered at a stone wall. 'I don't care if
he's as fur gone in liquor as Belshazzer's goat,' sputters the Cap'n,
all worked up. 'He's takin' us to a Kelly, ain't he? And is it likely
there'd be another one within three doors of the number I dreamed
about? Didn't I tell you that dream was a vision sent? Don't lay to NOW,
Barzilla, for the land sakes! It's Providence a-workin'.'
“'Cording to my notion the sunflower looked more like an agent from
t'other end of the line than one from Providence, but just then he
commenced to yell for us and upstairs we went, Jonadab first.
“'Whisht!' says the checkerboard, holdin' on to Jonadab's collar and
swingin' back and forth. 'Before we proceed to blow in on me friend
Kelly, let us come to an understandin' concernin' and touchin'
on--and--and--I don't know. But b'ys,' says he, solemn and confidential,
'are you on the square? Are yez dead game sports, hey?'
“'Yes, yes!' says Jonadab. 'Course we be. Mr. Kelly and us are old
friends. We've come I don't know how fur on purpose to see him. Now
where's--'
“'Say no more,' hollers the feller. 'Say no more. Come on with yez.' And
he marches down the dark hall to a door with a 'To let' sign on it and
fetches it a bang with his fist. It opens a little ways and a face shows
in the crack.
“'Hello, Frank!' hails the sunflower, cheerful. 'Will you take that ugly
mug of yours out of the gate and lave me friends in?'
“'What's the matter wid you, Mike?' asks the chap at the door. 'Yer
can't bring them two yaps in here and you know it. Gwan out of this.'
“He tried to shut the door, but the checkerboard had his foot between it
and the jamb. You might as well have tried to shove in the broadside of
an ocean liner as to push against that foot.
“'These gents are friends of mine,' says he. 'Frank, I'll do yez the
honor of an introduction to Gin'ral Grant and Dan'l O'Connell. Open that
door and compose your face before I'm obliged to break both of 'em.'
“'But I tell you, Mike, I can't,' says the door man, lookin' scared.
'The boss is out, and you know--'
“'WILL you open that door?' roars the big chap. And with that he hove
his shoulder against the panels and jammed the door open by main force,
all but flattenin' the other feller behind it. 'Walk in, Gin'ral,' he
says to Jonadab, and in we went, me wonderin' what was comin' next, and
not darin' to guess.
“There was a kind of partitioned off hallway inside, with another door
in the partition. We opened that, and there was a good-sized room,
filled with men, smokin' and standin' around. A high board fence was
acrost one end of the room, and from behind it comes a jinglin' of
telephone bells and the sounds of talk. The floor was covered with
torn papers, the window blinds was shut, the gas was burnin' blue, and,
between it and the smoke, the smells was as various as them in a fish
glue factory. On the fence was a couple of blackboards with 'Belmont'
and 'Brighton' and suchlike names in chalk wrote on 'em, and
beneath that a whole mess in writin' and figures like, 'Red Tail
4--Wt--108--Jock Smith--5--1,' 'Sourcrout 5--Wt--99--Jock Jones--20--5,'
and similar rubbish. And the gang--a mighty mixed lot--was scribblin'
in little books and watchin' each other as if they was afraid of havin'
their pockets picked; though, to look at 'em, you'd have guessed the
biggest part had nothin' in their pockets but holes.
“The six-foot checkerboard--who, it turned out, answered to the hail of
'Mike'--seemed to be right at home with the gang. He called most of 'em
by their first names and went sasshayin' around, weltin' 'em on the back
and tellin' 'em how he'd 'put crimps in the bookies rolls t'other day,'
and a lot more stuff that they seemed to understand, but was hog Greek
to me and Jonadab. He'd forgot us altogether which was a mercy the way I
looked at it, and I steered the Cap'n over into a corner and we come to
anchor on a couple of rickety chairs.
“'What--why--what kind of a place IS this, Barzilla?' whispers Jonadab,
scared.
“'Sh-h-h!' says I. 'Land knows. Just set quiet and hang on to your
watch.'
“'But--but I want to find Kelly,' says he.
“'I'd give somethin' to find a back door,' says I. 'Ain't this a
collection of dock rats though! If this is a part of your dream,
Jonadab, I wish you'd turn over and wake up. Oh land! here's one
murderer headin' this way. Keep your change in your fist and keep the
fist shut.'
“A more'n average rusty peep, with a rubber collar on and no necktie,
comes slinkin' over to us. He had a smile like a crack in a plate.
“'Say, gents,' he says, 'have you made your bets yet? I've got a dead
straight line on the handicap,' says he, 'and I'll put you next for a
one spot. It's a sure t'ing at fifteen to three. What do you say?'
“I didn't say nuthin'; but that fool dream was rattlin' round in
Jonadab's skull like a bean in a blowgun, and he sees a chance for a
shot.
“'See here, mister,' he says. 'Can you tell me where to locate Mr.
Kelly?'
“'Who--Pete?' says the feller. 'Oh, he ain't in just now. But about that
handicap. I like the looks of youse and I'll let youse in for a dollar.
Or, seein' it's you, we'll say a half. Only fifty cents. I wouldn't do
better for my own old man,' he says.
“While the Cap'n was tryin' to unravel one end of this gibberish I spoke
up prompt.
“'Say,' says I, 'tell me this, will you? Is the Kelly who owns
this--this palace, named Jimmie--James, I mean?'
“'Naw,' says he. 'Sure he ain't. It's Pete Kelly, of course--Silver
Pete. But what are you givin' us? Are you bettin' on the race, or ain't
you?'
“Well, Jonadab understood that. He bristled up like a brindled cat.
If there's any one thing the Cap'n is down on, it's gamblin' and
such--always exceptin' when he knows he's won already. You've seen that
kind, maybe.
“'Young feller,' he says, perkish, 'I want you to know that me and my
friend ain't the bettin' kind. What sort of a hole IS this, anyway?'
“The rubber collared critter backed off, lookin' worried. He goes acrost
the room, and I see him talkin' to two or three other thieves as tough
as himself. And they commenced to stare at us and scowl.
“'Come on,' I whispered to Jonadab. 'Let's get out of this place while
we can. There ain't no Jimmie Kelly here, or if there is you don't want
to find him.'
“He was as willin' to make tracks as I was, by this time, and we headed
for the door in the partition. But Rubber Collar and some of the others
got acrost our bows.
“'Cut it out,' says one of 'em. 'You can't get away so easy. Hi, Frank!
Frank! Who let these turnip pullers in here, anyhow? Who are they?'
“The chap who was tendin' door comes out of his coop. 'You've got me,'
he says. 'They come in with Big Mike, and he was loaded and scrappy and
jammed 'em through. Said they was pals of his. Where is he?'
“There was a hunt for Mike, and, when they got his bearin's, there
he was keeled over on a bench, breathin' like an escape valve. And an
admiral's salute wouldn't have woke him up. The whole crew was round us
by this time, some ugly, and the rest laffin' and carryin' on.
“'It's the Barkwurst gang,' says one.
“'It's old Bark himself,' says another. 'Look at them lace curtains.'
And he points to Jonadab's whiskers.
“'This one's Jacobs in disguise,' sings out somebody else. 'You can tell
him by the Rube get-up. Haw! haw!'
“'Soak 'em! Do 'em up! Don't let 'em out!' hollers a ha'f dozen more.
“Jonadab was game; I'll say that for him. And I hadn't been second mate
in my time for nothin'.
“'Take your hands off me!' yells the Cap'n. 'I come in here to find
a man I'm lookin' for, James Kelly it was, and--You would, would you!
Stand by, Barzilla!'
“I stood by. Rubber Collar got one from me that made him remember home
and mother, I'll bet. Anyhow, my knuckles ached for two days afterwards.
And Jonadab was just as busy. But I cal'late we'd have been ready for
the oven in another five minutes if the door hadn't bu'st open with a
bang, and a loud dressed chap, with the sweat pourin' down his face,
come tearin' in.
“'Beat it, fellers!' he yells. 'The place is goin' to be pinched. I've
just had the tip, and they're right on top of me.'
“THEN there was times. Everybody was shoutin' and swearin' and fallin'
over each other to get out. I was kind of lost in the shuffle, and
the next thing I remember for sartin is settin' up on Rubber Collar's
stomach and lookin' foggy at the door, where the loud dressed man was
wrestlin' with a policeman. And there was police at the windows and all
around.
“Well, don't talk! I got up, resurrects Jonadab from under a heap of
gamblers and furniture, and makes for harbor in our old corner. The
police was mighty busy, especially a fat, round-faced, red-mustached
man, with gold bands on his cap and arms, that the rest called 'Cap'n.'
Him and the loud dressed chap who'd give the alarm was talkin' earnest
close to us.
“'I can't help it, Pete,' says the police cap'n. ''Twas me or the Vice
Suppression crowd. They've been on to you for two weeks back. I only
just got in ahead of 'em as it was. No, you'll have to go along with
the rest and take your chances. Quiet now, everybody, or you'll get it
harder,' he roars, givin' orders like the skipper of a passenger boat.
'Stand in line and wait your turns for the wagon.'
“Jonadab grabbed me by the wrist. He was pale and shakin' all over.
“'Oh, Lordy!' says he, 'we're took up. Will we have to go to jail, do
you think?'
“'I don't know,' I says, disgusted. 'I presume likely we will. Did you
dream anything like this? You'd better see if you can't dream yourself
out now.' Twas rubbin' it in, but I was mad.
“'Oh! oh!' says he, flappin' his hands. 'And me a deacon of the church!
Will folks know it, do you think?'
“'Will they know it! Sounds as if they knew it already. Just listen to
that.'
“The first wagon full of prizes was bein' loaded in down at the front
door, and the crowd outside was cheerin' 'em. Judgin' by the whoops and
hurrahs there wa'n't no less than a million folks at the show, and they
was gettin' the wuth of admission.
“'Oh, dear!' groans Jonadab. 'And it'll be in the papers and all! I
can't stand this.'
“And afore I could stop him he'd run over and tackled the head
policeman.
“'Mister--Mister Cap'n,' he says, pantin', 'there's been a mistake, an
awful mis--take--'
“'That's right,' says the police cap'n, 'there has. Six or eight of you
tin horns got clear. But--' Then he noticed who was speakin' to him
and his mouth dropped open like a hatch. 'Well, saints above!' he says.
'Have the up-state delegates got to buckin' the ponies, too? Why ain't
you back home killin' pertater bugs? You ought to be ashamed.'
“'But we wa'n't gamblin'--me and my friend wa'n't. We was led in here
by mistake. We was told that a feller named Kelly lived here and we're
huntin' for a man of that name. I've got a message to him from his poor
dead father back in Orham. We come all the way from Orham, Mass.--to
find him and--'
“The police cap'n turned around then and stared at him hard. 'Humph!'
says he, after a spell. 'Go over there and set down till I want you. No,
you'll go now and we'll waste no breath on it. Go on, do you hear!'
“So we went, and there we set for ha'f an hour, while the rest of the
gang and the blackboards and the paper slips and the telephones and Big
Mike and his chair was bein' carted off to the wagon. Once, when one of
the constables was beatin' acrost to get us, the police cap'n spoke to
him.
“'You can leave these two,' he says. 'I'll take care of them.'
“So, finally, when there was nothin' left but the four walls and us and
some of the police, he takes me and Jonadab by the elbows and heads for
the door.
“'Now,' says he, 'walk along quiet and peaceable and tell me all about
it. Get out of this!' he shouts to the crowd of small boys and loafers
on the sidewalk, 'or I'll take you, too.'
“The outsiders fell astern, lookin' heartbroke and disapp'inted that we
wa'n't hung on the spot, and the fat boss policeman and us two paraded
along slow but grand. I felt like the feller that was caught robbin'
the poorhouse, and I cal'late Jonadab felt the same, only he was so
busy beggin' and pleadin' and explainin' that he couldn't stop to feel
anything.
“He told it all, the whole fool yarn from one end to t'other. How old
Pat give him the message and how he went to the laundry, and about his
ridiculous dream, every word. And the fat policeman shook all over, like
a barrel of cod livers.
“By and by we got to a corner of a street and hove to. I could see
the station house loomin' up large ahead. Fatty took a card from his
pocketbook, wrote on it with a pencil, and then hailed a hack, one of
them stern-first kind where the driver sits up aloft 'way aft. He pushed
back the cap with the gilt wreath on it, and I could see his red hair
shinin' like a sunset.
“'Here,' says he to the hack driver, 'take these--this pair of salads
to the--what d'ye call it?--the Golconda House, wherever on top of the
pavement that is. And mind you, deliver 'em safe and don't let the truck
horses get a bite at 'em. And at half-past eight to-night you call for
'em and bring 'em here,' handin' up the card he'd written on.
“''Tis the address of my house, I'm givin',' he says, turnin' to
Jonadab. 'I'll be off duty then and we'll have dinner and talk about old
times. To think of you landin' in Silver Pete's pool room! Dear! dear!
Why, Cap'n Wixon, barrin' that your whiskers are a bit longer and a
taste grayer, I'd 'a' known you anywheres. Many's the time I've stole
apples over your back fence. I'm Jimmie Kelly,' says he.”
“Well, by mighty!” exclaimed the depot master, slapping his knee. “So HE
was the Kelly man! Humph!”
“Funny how it turned out, wa'n't it?” said Barzilla. “Course, Cap'n
Jonadab was perfectly sat on spiritu'lism and signs and omens and such
after that. He's had his fortune told no less'n eight times sence, and,
nigh's I can find out, each time it's different. The amount of blondes
and brunettes and widows and old maids that he's slated to marry,
accordin' to them fortune tellers, is perfectly scandalous. If he lives
up to the prophecies, Brigham Young wouldn't be a twospot 'longside of
him.”
“It's funny about dreams,” mused Captain Hiram. “Folks are always
tellin' about their comin' true, but none of mine ever did. I used to
dream I was goin' to be drowned, but I ain't been yet.”
The depot master laughed. “Well,” he observed, “once, when I was a
youngster, I dreamed two nights runnin' that I was bein' hung. I asked
my Sunday school teacher if he believed dreams come true, and he said
yes, sometimes. Then I told him my dream, and he said he believed in
that one. I judged that any other finish for me would have surprised
him. But, somehow or other, they haven't hung me yet.”
“There was a hired girl over at the Old Home House who was sat on
fortune tellin',” said Wingate. “Her name was Effie, and--”
“Look here!” broke in Captain Bailey Stitt, righteous indignation in his
tone, “I've started no less than nineteen different times to tell you
about how I went sailin' in an automobile. Now do you want to hear it,
or don't you?”
“How you went SAILIN' in an auto?” repeated Barzilla. “Went ridin', you
mean.”
“I mean sailin'. I went ridin', too, but--”
“You'll have to excuse me, Bailey,” interrupted Captain Hiram, rising
and looking at his watch. “I've stayed here a good deal longer'n I
ought to, already. I must be gettin' on home to see how poor little
Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin'. I do hope he's better by now. I wish Dr.
Parker hadn't gone out of town.”
The depot master rose also. “And I'll have to be excused, too,” he
declared. “It's most time for the up train. Good-by, Hiram. Give my
regards to Sophrony, and if there's anything I can do to help, in case
your baby should be sick, just sing out, won't you?”
“But I want to tell about this automobilin' scrape,” protested Captain
Bailey. “It was one of them things that don't happen every day.”
“So was that fortune business of Effie's,” declared Wingate. “Honest,
the way it worked out was queer enough.”
But the train whistled just then and the group broke up. Captain Sol
went out to the platform, where Cornelius Rowe, Ed Crocker, Beriah
Higgins, Obed Gott, and other interested citizens had already assembled.
Wingate and Stitt followed. As for Captain Hiram Baker, he hurried home,
his conscience reproving him for remaining so long away from his wife
and poor little Hiram Joash, more familiarly known as “Dusenberry.”