Buck's wife and a three-year-old were traveling with him, but he
wasn't giving it out through a megaphone.
Buck is one of those goose-headed guys who begin to scratch gravel
and start in to make a killing every time they see a pretty girl.
Across the aisle sat two pet canaries from Plainfield, New Jersey.
They were members of the Soubrette Stinging Society and they were en
route to the West to join the "Bunch of Birds Burlesque Company."
Their names were Millie and Tillie and they wore Florodora hats and
did a sister act that contained more bad grammar than an East Side
pinochle game.
Millie was fully aware that she could back Duse off the map, and
Tillie was ready to bet a week's salary that she could make Bernhardt
feel like she was out in the storm we had day before yesterday.
Slim called them the Roast-Beef Sisters, Rare and Well-done.
In a minute the castors on Buck's neck began to turn.
Slim put us wise with a wink so we lit the fire and began to cook it
up.
Buck's heart was warming for the birds in the gilded cage.
"The real Kibo!" said Slim; "it's a plain case of Appomattox; the war
is over and they are yours, Buck!"
Buck turned a few more volts into his twinkling lamps.
"Lower your mainsail, Buck, and drop alongside; you've made the
landing," suggested Nick.
Buck began to feel his necktie and play patty-cake with the little
bald spot on the top of his head.
"Stop the hansom and get out; you're at your corner," said Tod.
The Sweet Dreams across the way were giving Buck the glorious
eye-roll and he felt that dinner was ready.
"Hang up your hat, Buck, and gather the myrtle with Mary!" I chipped
in.
Then Buck bounced over and began to show Millie and Tillie what a
handsome brute he was at close quarters.
He sat on the arm of the seat and steamed up.
In less than a minute he crowded the information on them that he was
a millionaire who had escaped from Los Angeles, Cal., and he was just
going to put them both in grand opera when his three-year-old toddled
down the aisle and grabbed him by the coat tail:
"Papa! Mama wants 'oo to det my bottle of milk!"
"Stung!" shrieked Slim.
"Back to the nursery!" howled Tod, and then as Buck crawled away to
home and mother we let out a yell that caused the conductor to think
the train had struck a Wild West show.
During the rest of the trip Buck was nailed to his seat.
Every time he tried to use the elastic in his neck the wife would
burn him with a hard, cold glitter.
The Roast-Beef Sisters seemed to be all carved up about something or
other.
We were back to the shop selling things again when Sledgeheimer
fluttered down among us.
The boys call him putty because he's the next thing to a pane.
He's such a stingy loosener that he looks at you with one eye so's
not to waste the other.
If you ask Sledgeheimer what time it is he takes off four minutes as
his commission for telling you.
"Barnes," said Sledgeheimer, "do you smoke?"
It was a knock-out.
In the annals of the road no one could look back to the proud day
when Sledgeheimer had coughed.
Once, so the legend runs, he gave a porter a nickel, but it was
afterwards discovered that Sledgeheimer was asleep and not
responsible at the time, so the porter gave it back.
Sledgeheimer tried to collect three cents interest for the time the
porter kept the nickel, and the conductor had to punch his mileage
and his nose before he'd let go.
And now Sledgeheimer had asked Barnes if he smoked.
Slim was pale but game.
"Sometimes!" he answered.
"Do you like a goot seegar?" queried Sledgeheimer.
We looked for the engine to hit a cow any minute now.
"Sure!" said Slim, weak all over.
"Vell," said Sledgeheimer, "here is my brudder-in-law's card. He
makes dot Grass Vidow seegar on Sigsth Afenue. Gif him a call und
mention my name. He vill be glat to see you, yet."
Then Sledgeheimer went away back and sat down.
The laugh was on Slim so he got busy with the button.