"But this here dope I'm startin' in to cook for you is a straight,
reelible, an' hones' pill. P.T. Barnum he would have went a million miles
to see what I seen last Janooary down in the Coquina country--"
"Where is that?"
"Say; that's what costs money to know. When I put you wise I'm due to
retire from actyve business. Get me?"
"Go on."
"Sure. I was down to the Coquina country, a-doin'--well, I was doin'
rubes. I gotta be hones' with _you_, Prof. That's what I was a-doin'
of--sellin' farms under water to suckers. Bee-u-tiful Florida! Own your
own orange grove. Seven crops o' strawberries every winter in Gawd's own
country--get me?"
He bestowed upon me a loathsome wink.
"Well, it went big till I made a break and got in Dutch with the Navy
Department what was surveyin' the Everglades for a safe and sane harbor
of refuge for the navy in time o' war.
"Sir, they was a-dredgin' up the farms I was sellin', an' the suckers
heard of it an' squealed somethin' fierce, an' I had to hustle! Yes, sir,
I had to git up an' mosey cross-lots. And what with the Federal Gov'ment
chasin' me one way an' them rubes an' the sheriff of Pickalocka County
racin' me t'other, I got lost for fair--yes, sir."
He smiled reminiscently, produced from his pockets the cold and offensive
remains of a partly consumed cigar, and examined it critically. Then he
requested a match.
"I shall now pass over lightly or in subdood silence the painful events
of my flight," he remarked, waving his cigar and expelling a long squirt
of smoke from his unshaven lips. "Surfice it to say that I got everythin'
that was comin' to me, an' then some, what with snakes and murskeeters,
an' briers an' mud, an' hunger an' thirst an' heat. Wasn't there a wop
named Pizarro or somethin' what got lost down in Florida? Well, he's got
nothin' on me. I never want to see the dam' state again. But I'll go back
if _you_ say so!"
His small rat eyes rested musingly upon the river; he sucked thoughtfully
at his cigar, hooked one soiled thumb into the armhole of his fancy vest
and crossed his legs.
"To resoom," he said cheerily; "I come out one day, half nood, onto the
banks of the Miami River. The rest was a pipe after what I had went
through.
"I trimmed a guy at Miami, got clothes and railroad fare, an' ducked.
"Now the valyble portion of my discourse is this here partial information
concernin' what I seen--or rather what I run onto durin' my crool flight
from my ree-lentless persecutors.
"An' these here is the facts: There is, contrary to maps, Coast Survey
guys, an' general opinion, a range of hills in Florida, made entirely of
coquina.
"It's a good big range, too, fifty miles long an' anywhere from one to
five miles acrost.
"An' what I've got to say is this: Into them there Coquina hills there
still lives the expirin' remains of the cave-men--"
"What!" I exclaimed incredulously.
"Or," he continued calmly, "to speak more stric'ly, the few individools
of that there expirin' race is now totally reduced to a few women."
"Your statement is wild--"
"No; but they're wild. I seen 'em. Bein' extremely bee-utiful I
approached nearer, but they hove rocks at me, they did, an' they run into
the rocks like squir'ls, they did, an' I was too much on the blink to
stick around whistlin' for dearie.
"But I seen 'em; they was all dolled up in the skins of wild annermals.
When I see the first one she was eatin' onto a ear of corn, an' I nearly
ketched her, but she run like hellnall--yes, sir. Just like that.
"So next I looked for some cave guy to waltz up an' paste me, but no. An'
after I had went through them dam' Coquina mountains I realized that
there was nary a guy left in this here expirin' race, only women, an'
only about a dozen o' them."
He ceased, meditatively expelled a cloud of pungent smoke, and folded his
arms.
"Of course," said I with a sneer, "you have proofs to back your pleasant
tale?"
"Sure. I made a map."
"I see," said I sarcastically. "You propose to have me pay you for that
map?"
"Sure."
"How much, my confiding friend?"
"Ten thousand plunks."
I began to laugh. He laughed, too: "You'll pay 'em if you take my map an'
go to the Coquina hills," he said.
I stopped laughing: "Do you mean that I am to go there and investigate
before I pay you for this information?"
"Sure. If the goods ain't up to sample the deal is off."
"Sample? What sample?" I demanded derisively.
He made a gesture with one soiled hand as though quieting a balky horse.
"I took a snapshot, friend. You wanta take a slant at it?"
"You took a photograph of one of these alleged cave-dwellers?"
"I took ten but when these here cave-ladies hove rocks at me the fillums
was put on the blink--all excep' this one which I dee-veloped an'
printed."
He drew from his inner coat pocket a photograph and handed it to me--the
most amazing photograph I ever gazed upon. Astounded, almost convinced
I sat looking at this irrefutable evidence in silence. The smoke of his
cigar drifting into my face aroused me from a sort of dazed inertia.
"Listen," I said, half strangled, "are you willing to wait for payment
until I personally have verified the existence of these--er--creatures?"
"You betcher! When you have went there an' have saw the goods, just let
me have mine if they're up to sample. Is that right?"
"It seems perfectly fair."
"It is fair. I wouldn't try to do a scientific guy--no, sir. Me without
no eddycation, only brains? Fat chance I'd have to put one over on a
Academy sport what's chuck-a-block with Latin an' Greek an' scientific
stuff an' all like that!"