Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics (_italics_), and text
enclosed by equal signs is in bold (=bold=).
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
OLD SLEUTH’S OWN.
No. 137. 10 CENTS.
NIMBLE IKE, THE Trick Ventriloquist.
A ROUSING TALE OF FUN AND FROLIC.
By OLD SLEUTH.
[Illustration: “Good Day, my Friend.”]
NEW YORK:
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET.
* * * * *
NIMBLE IKE THE TRICK VENTRILOQUIST.
A Rousing Tale of Fun and Frolic.
By OLD SLEUTH.
Copyright, 1894, by Parlor Car Publishing Company.
All Rights Reserved.
NEW YORK:
J. S. OGILVIE PUBLISHING COMPANY,
57 ROSE STREET.
* * * * *
NIMBLE IKE THE TRICK VENTRILOQUIST.
CHAPTER I.
“You have bags of gold, and do you refuse to give me just a little?”
“Not one cent.”
“I helped you to earn that money.”
“Yes.”
“And you refuse to give me any, and you are going away?”
“I refuse to give you any and I am going away.”
The above dialogue occurred in a room on the top floor of a great
tenement house, and a strangely picturesque scene was presented.
An old man with frowzy hair, and deep-set eyes illuminating a dark
and wrinkled face, sat by a table. Opposite to the old man was a
bright-faced lad of thirteen or fourteen. The furnishings of the room
were reasonably comfortable and on the table burned a flickering
candle. Indeed the whole scene was weird and strange in the extreme.
The lad was kneeling on a stool and his elbows were resting on the
table, and there was a serious and earnest look upon his bright face;
and the shadow deepened when the old man repeated:
“Yes, I am going away and I refuse to give you anything.”
“Are you treating me right?” asked the lad, in a wistful tone of
entreaty.
“Yes.”
“No, you are not. I have worked hard. I am penniless; I am but a boy,
you are rich. You do not mean to leave me penniless?”
“All that you say is true. You did help me to earn the money; you did
serve me well; but I have repaid you in full. I owe you nothing.”
“How so?”
“You have been my pupil; you excel your master; you are the most
wonderful trick ventriloquist in the world; you will have no trouble
in earning money; you can make a fortune greater than mine; you were
an apt pupil. You have a better chance than I, lad, and you owe all to
me. I have supported you well; I have educated you. You speak three
different languages, and the man does not live in the world who can
excel you as a magician or a ventriloquist. Your education and your
talents are your fortune.”
“But you should give me a little money.”
“No, I need it all. Yes, I have worked hard, I have saved my money. I
need it all, yes, all, for purposes of revenge.”
A moment the lad was silent and thoughtful, but at length he said:
“You promised some day to tell me about myself. You are not my father.
You have told me you were in no way related to me. Who am I? What am I?
Who were my parents? Where are they? You told me some day I should know
all.”
“You shall.”
“Good; tell me now.”
“No, not now; some day I will tell you all. You were born in India;
your parents are dead; you have relatives living. It would be of no
advantage to you now to know who your relatives are; some day it may
be. I will watch; if that day come you shall know all. It will be of no
advantage to you to know now.”
“And you refuse to tell me?”
“I do.”
“Will you tell me my real name?”
“Your real name is Isaac. You bear my last name Andro. It is a good
name and will serve you for the present. The name you have is Nimble
Ike, for you are the most nimble lad in the world. I have been very
careful in your instruction; the lad does not live who in every way is
as accomplished as yourself.”
“And yet I will be penniless.”
“Not long will you be penniless with your talents and your experience.
Remember how much you have seen of the world; remember how great has
been your experience. You have visited with me every city and town
of any importance in the United States. Few middle-aged men have had
your experience. You are less than fourteen to-day and possess the
experience and knowledge of most men of forty. You are a wonderful lad;
you need never want for food or money.”
“And is that all you will tell me about myself?”
“All at present.”
“But we may never meet again.”
“Oh, yes, we will meet some day, and here is a little box. Do not open
it; in fact you can only open it by smashing it, but if at any time
you are sick and helpless open the box. On your honor do not open it
unless, as I say, you are sick and helpless and starving. Obey me and
all will be well; disobey me and trouble will overtake you. Never lose
the box. String it around your neck as a charm and some day it may be
of benefit to you; but the best I can wish you is that you never have
occasion to smash the box.”
The old man spoke the last words in a very solemn, warning tone, and
then handed a tiny little box to our hero, that could readily be strung
over his heart, as a talisman, without any inconvenience.
“When do you go?” asked the lad.
“I will bid you good-by some day this week.”
“How about the things here in this room?”
“They are yours, and the rent is paid for three months. Yes, the
furniture is yours.”
“Then you do give me something.”
“Yes, but no money. I need the money; but some day we will meet again
and then I may have a wonderful revelation to make to you.”
“Will you leave me your address?”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“I have my own reasons for disappearing and leaving no trace behind.”
“But will you know whether I am alive or dead?”
“Oh, yes; I have read the future. You will flourish all right, but
remember one thing: remain honest; cheat no man; lie to no man; and
remember that while you are at present only a showman that some day you
may be a gentleman, and then your record will tell for or against you.”
A little later and Ike retired to his bed. The little box had been
strung around his neck, and his thoughts were centered on its contents,
and despite the strong prohibition he felt an especially strong desire
to open it. In fact he argued audibly:
“I have not been treated fairly. I have a right to open the box. Hang
me, I will open it.”
With this resolve in his mind the lad rose from his bed slyly and
searched around for something wherewith to smash the box. He found a
heavy spike; and then it occurred to him that the noise might awaken
the old magician, and he hesitated. Finally he remembered he had a
strong knife in his pocket. He could pry the box open. He drew the
knife from his pocket and made an attempt to pry open the lid when
suddenly he felt a cold hand on his cheek. He turned and beheld a
figure in white standing before him, and the figure spoke, saying:
“Remember your promise.”
Ike was a lad of extraordinary nerve. He had speculated in surprises
all his life as the assistant of the necromancer. He had worked all
manner of surprises, and therefore was less likely to be overcome by a
sudden apparition. He demanded:
“What promise?”
“You promised not to open the box.”
The lad recalled that he had made such a promise and the figure spoke
again and said:
“It is a test of honor. If you open that box you are without honor.”
The lad at once exclaimed:
“I will not open the box; or, only under the conditions named.”
The figure disappeared and--well, the lad started up in bed. He had
only dreamed. Then he closed his eyes and dropped off into sleep. He
had about resolved to open the box, and thus had come to him a dream.
He made sure that he had been dreaming and then said:
“I renew my promise. I will not open the box. I will keep the promise I
made when awake and the promise I made in my dream.”
The lad awoke at his usual hour and after dressing entered the room
where the old magician usually slept on a mattress placed on the floor.
The old man was not there and the lad muttered:
“How strange! Uncle Andro does not go out before breakfast as a rule.”
The boy stood gazing around the room when his glance fell upon a note
lying on the table. He seized the note and read:
“You will not see me again until fate has done its best or worst.
Make no inquiry for me. I have left one dollar for you. All else in
the rooms is yours, as I told you. Good-by until we meet again at the
command of fate.
“UNCLE ANDRO.”
“He has deserted me,” said Ike in a low, sad tone. “Yes, he has
deserted me. I did not think he would go away and not say good-by. He
intended to steal away when he was talking to me last night. I cannot
help it, and I will not complain. I am but a boy, but I have had a
large experience. I can work tricks better than my master. I will get
along well enough; but I would like to know what he meant all these
years when he continually alluded to fate as connected with me. Hang
fate! I am going to strike in for myself.”
The lad placed the note on the table and as he did so he espied a
neatly folded bill. He unfolded it and found it was a “fiver,” as the
boys say.
“Well, he did leave me enough for a meal.”
There was enough in the rooms for several meals and Ike prepared his
breakfast--he had been accustomed to so doing. He was a resolute
lad, and we will here state that there are many resolute lads to-day
struggling against adverse fate, and they are doing it cheerfully and
without complaint.
We will make one more statement; some of our friends have often said to
us:
“It is wonderful how you can make up all the incidents in your
stories.” We answer upon these occasions, that more incidents, strange
and wonderful, are occurring every day than the most imaginative
author could conceive in a month--incidents far stranger than go upon
record; and we are not compelled to “make up” incidents, simply because
“fact is stranger than fiction,” and we have more incidents and actual
occurrences in our note-book than we can ever relate.
Ike finished his meal and then lay down on old Andro’s mattress
to think over the past and study the future. At length, however,
he determined to go forth. There was no need for him to look over
his possessions; he knew every article in that room and its value
thoroughly, and he had a five-dollar bill. He started to go down the
stairs, and on the floor below the one he and old Andro had occupied
for over a year he saw a little girl come from a room. The child was
very pretty and had been weeping. Ike was a tender-hearted, sympathetic
fellow. He had never seen the child before, but upon beholding that she
had been weeping his curiosity was aroused. Once more, dear reader, how
often do we meet people who invite our sympathies in great cities. I
can say one on about every square mile as we walk the streets.
The little girl preceded our hero down the stairs, for he had stepped
aside to permit her to do so, and when she reached the street he
followed her. She walked along at a slow pace and several times Ike
could hear her sob, and beheld her little delicate frame quiver with
emotion; he could not stand it and he ran up and accosted the girl,
saying “Good-morning.”
The child started back in an affrighted manner.
“You are crying,” said Ike, in a very kindly tone, “can I aid you?”
The child fixed her blue eyes upon him, and, after a moment, in a low
tone, answered:
“No.”
“Mebbe I can?”
“No.”
“How do you know I can’t help you?”
“I know it.”
“Tell me how you know it?”
“Because I want money; you can’t give me money.”
“I can’t, eh?”
“No, how can you?”
“Easy enough; how much money do you want?”
“I don’t know, mamma told me to go out and ask for money.”
The girl was not over ten years of age.
“Don’t you know how much money you need?”
“No.”
“Will five dollars do?”
“Yes.”
“I can give you five dollars.”
“Why should you give me five dollars?”
“Because you need it; that is a good reason, I reckon.”
“Will you come and see my mamma and tell her? She knows how much money
we need.”
“Yes, I’ll go and see your mamma.”
“Come.”
The girl led the way back and our hero accompanied her; they ascended
to the room from whence Ike had seen the girl issue and entered, the
girl still leading the way. Ike beheld at a glance that it was the
home of need; on a bed lay a woman, possibly she had once been comely
looking, but she did not look pretty as the boy beheld her. She was
evidently quite ill and her complexion was the color of saffron.
“Mamma,” said the little girl, “here is a good boy, who says he will
give us five dollars. Is that enough?”
The woman’s eyes bulged in their sunken sockets, and she asked:
“Who is the boy?”
“I think he is the boy who lives with the strange old man overhead.”
Ike stepped beside the bed and said:
“Madam, I have got five dollars to which you are welcome if it will be
of any service to you.”
The woman just glared but remained silent.
Ike pulled the money from his pocket and proffered it to the invalid,
who, for the first time spoke, and asked:
“Why should you give me five dollars?”
“Because you need it.”
“But can you spare it?”
“I do not need it as much as you do,” was the startling and really
suggestive answer.
“Who are you?”
“My name is Isaac Andro.”
“And you propose to give me five dollars?”
“Here it is,” said Ike, and he tendered the money.
“I cannot take it.”
“Why not?”
“You cannot afford to give it to me.”
“Yes, I can.”
“Have you plenty of money?”
“That’s all I’ve got.”
“That is all you have?”
“Yes.”
“And you offer it to me?”
“Yes.”
“How strange; why should you?”
“I told you why; you need it more than I do.”
“I do need it, but I will not take it from you, no, no; you can give
us a few cents, enough to buy a loaf of bread, but I will not take the
five dollars.”
“Do you need something to eat?”
“Why, sir,” said the woman, “we have not had a mouthful pass our lips
in twenty-four hours.”
“Great Scott!” cried Ike, “why, I’ve got lots of food upstairs, I’ll
go and get some,” and without waiting for remonstrance, or thanks, or
inquiry, the lad shot from the room.
Ike prepared some coffee, he had all necessary appliances, and he had
plenty of bread and cold meat, and he returned as quickly as possible
with the food; he placed it on the table, and demanded:
“Where are your plates, and knives and forks?”
“We have none, all are gone.”
Ike had noticed, as stated, that there were few things in the room; the
woman reposed on a cot, there was a table and one chair, no carpet,
and he, at the last moment, discovered that there was no stove nor any
of the usual, even poor equipments that can be found in the poorest
apartments.
Again he left the room and soon returned with cups, plates, knives and
forks, and he bustled around and set things all ready for eating. He
carried the invalid a cup of coffee, and some bread and meat, which
she devoured with avidity. The little girl also betrayed an excellent
appetite and as her hunger became appeased she exclaimed:
“Mamma, this is just splendid.”
Ike’s curiosity was aroused and he asked:
“Madam, how is it I find you so poor?”
“I am a widow, and managed to get along well enough until I was taken
sick; my husband was mate of a vessel; the vessel was wrecked and all
lives were lost.”
“How long ago did it all happen?”
“My husband was wrecked five years ago.”
“And have you no friends?”
“No, I was an orphan and my husband was born in the West Indies. He
never spoke of having any relatives.”
The woman had appeased her appetite, and she said:
“Now tell me about yourself.”
“Mine is a strange tale, madam. I have a faint, a very faint
recollection of once being in a great big house, and as the opera
goes, ‘with vassals and serfs at my side.’ It may all be a dream,
recollections of splendors that belonged to some one else. Later I
remember enduring great hardship with a strange old man; we were in
France, England, Spain and Italy, and finally embarked for America; by
that time I was old enough to remember all that occurred. We arrived
in the United States and the old man commenced instructing me in all
kinds of magical skill. He was a magician, we traveled all over the
country, and I learned a great deal. He was a strange man, always
making strange and mysterious allusions; but he never would make any
actual explanations, nor would he tell me anything about myself. He
accumulated a great deal of money, and--” the lad proceeded and related
the subsequent facts which are known to our readers.
“And he deserted you!”
“Yes.”
“And took all the money?”
“Yes.”
“And you offered me the only five dollars which you had in the world?”
“What odds? I can make lots of money, and I am alone. I’ve got an idea
and----”
Ike was interrupted; there came a rap at the door, the woman betrayed
agitation and the little girl turned deathly pale and instinctively
ejaculated:
“Oh, dear! it is that awful man.”
Ike suspected the identity of the awful man and called out:
“Come in.”
A mean-looking man entered the room.
“I have come for my money,” he said.
“How much money is due you?” asked Ike.
“Four dollars and seventy-five cents--one month’s rent.”
“Here is your money, give me the change and a receipt as quick as you
can.”
It did not take the man long to hand over the change and the
receipt--the latter he had ready--and then in a cold-blooded manner, he
announced:
“You must move out, I have let the rooms, the new tenants will come in
this afternoon.”
The poor woman struggled hard to say something; she was about to make
an appeal but Ike anticipated her and declared:
“That’s all right, we will be out of here in an hour.”
The man went away and did not hear the woman’s call for him to return.
At length she said to Ike:
“What have you done?”
“The right thing, I reckon.”
“Oh, what will become of us?” moaned the woman
“You are all right for three months.”
“What do you mean?”
“I told you that the rooms overhead were paid for three months in
advance; they belong to me, you will move up.”
“And turn you out?”
“Not much, I will take you in.”
“We cannot live on you.”
“What will you do?”
“I don’t know.”
“That is what I thought, so I just did the ‘think’ for you, and for the
present you are all right.”
We will not relate all the arguments Ike used to induce the poor widow
with her child to move into his rooms. He succeeded, however, and he
set right to work to move her few things upstairs; she and her daughter
were to occupy one room, and Ike determined to take possession of the
bed formerly used by his late master, and he did so with the remark.
“I am the boss now.”
That same evening the woman whom he had befriended and whose name was
Pell, said:
“As soon as I am well I will repay you for all you have done for us.”
“All right, we will wait until you are well.”
A few days passed. Ike had not fully determined on what he would do,
as his provisions were fast being devoured. He had no money to pay his
rent on the rooms, and in a most startling manner he learned that he
must pay for the rooms or--well, he adopted the or--for he was fully
assured that the contemptible landlord had determined to take a mean
advantage. In some way the fellow learned or suspected that the man who
had paid him for the rooms had gone away. He possibly suspected that
the rooms had been paid for in advance to the advantage of the boy, and
the widow and her child. At any rate one night he called and demanded
the month’s rent.
“No rent is due you,” said Ike; “you have been paid three months in
advance from the first of last month.”
“I have, eh?”
“You have!”
“Then produce the receipt; that is the shortest way to settle it.”
Old Andro had forgotten, or in some way failed to give Ike a receipt
for the rooms. Ike took in the situation at once; he was a wonderfully
quick lad, and he said:
“You call here to-morrow night and you shall have the receipt.”
“All right, I will call here to-morrow night.”
As stated, Ike took in the whole situation. The man was a “skin” and
intended to steal three months’ rent, and our hero determined to beat
him at his game.
We have indicated all along that Nimble Ike was a very resolute and
smart fellow, possessed of nerve, experience, and cuteness. He had no
notion of letting the mean landlord succeed in his trick.
After the man’s departure Mrs. Pell said:
“It is as I feared, we will turn you out of your apartments.”
“You will do nothing of the kind.”
“You heard the man’s threat?”
“I did.”
“He is a terrible man.”
“Is he?”
“Yes, he has several times nearly frightened me to death. He appears
very mild until he is aroused and then he is an awful, violent man.”
“He has scared you several times?”
“He has.”
“Well, I will give him the scare of his life when he comes here
to-morrow night. I will produce _a living receipt_ for him. He will
think the devil is after him. Mebbe I will scare a year’s rent out of
him. I think I can.”
Ike had received tickets for a show that evening and he asked Mrs. Pell
to let her daughter Lulu go with him.
“My child has never been to the theater in her life.”
“So much the better. She will enjoy it the more; let her go, I pray
you, by all means.”
Mrs. Pell finally consented.
Lulu was delighted at the idea of going, and at an early hour the two
proceeded to the theater. It was a variety performance and among the
several entertainments a magician was to appear, a man who had been
advertised in the play-bills as the most wonderful magician the world
had ever seen; a man who could put the Indian jugglers to shame. Ike
had seen these advertisements and he looked forward to heaps of fun;
in case he called for a volunteer from the audience our hero intended
to volunteer and permit the juggler to make him appear ridiculous and
foolish--“oh, yes, mebbe so!”--was the lad’s mental ejaculation.
The show proceeded and there were many very pleasant and charming acts
and finally the necromancer appeared on the stage. He was a “dude from
dudedom” and as Ike perceived at a glance a regular “fake,” a man who
was merely an imitator and practically a fraud.
The fellow performed some tricks with cards and one or two simple
little sleight of hand acts, when he called for a volunteer and our
hero leaped upon the stage. As usual the “fake” commenced making witty
remarks and the audience laughed. Finally the performer said:
“My son, did you know that some little boys were regular silver mines?
Now I am going to prospect on you; mebbe I can find quarter-dollars in
your nose, ears and eyes?”
The manipulator handed our hero a plate to hold and on the plate he
placed a dozen quarters. He did it with such a great display, letting
them fall one at a time, counting them as they fell; and then he took
the plate and jingled them, all the time making very funny remarks--not
funny but intended to be so; then he turned his back a minute and
returned to do his act, when he started back in amazement: the silver
on the plate had all disappeared. Ike had stood perfectly still, not
once moving from the spot where the juggler had placed him. He looked
innocent and simple enough, while the magician gazed in amazement. The
audience meantime were leaning forward in great expectancy, to behold
the wonderful trick. The magician was, as may be supposed, completely
nonplussed, but he was a bright, tricky fellow. He stepped to the front
and requested two gentlemen to step upon the stage. After the usual
delay two good-looking men did step upon the stage, and the magician
said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, a most extraordinary incident has occurred.
You all saw me place twelve quarter dollars on that plate; they have
disappeared; that lad could not resist the temptation and has stolen
them, and I have requested the gentlemen to come forward and search
this boy. I confess this is no trick on my part.”
The audience and the gentlemen all supposed that the whole was a part
of the performance, and they proceeded to search Ike. They did so
thoroughly, the magician standing by and watching them. The men did not
find the money and matters were at a standstill for a few moments. The
magician was greatly disturbed. He stood like one dazed, and as there
had been no result the audience began to get wearied, and there came a
cry of “Go on with the show.”
The magician stepped forward and said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, I protest that the quarters have been stolen.”
“Oh, that’s all right. Go on with the show.”
The real fact was the performer did not have any more quarters--he
hadn’t received his salary. He was a gambler and the three dollars in
silver was all the money he possessed. He had been compelled to save
them for his great act.
The man stepped up to Ike and said:
“You scoundrel, if you don’t surrender that money, I’ll call an officer
and have you arrested.”
Ike turned, and facing the audience, said:
“This man accuses me of stealing his money. He can’t work his trick,
and that’s the way he is trying to get out of it.”
When the magician had threatened our hero he had stepped quite close
to him and had whispered in his ear. We relate this in order that our
readers will more readily comprehend what is to follow.
“You stole my money,” said the magician.
“You had the two gentlemen search me.”
“You have the money.”
The magician was losing his head and Ike said:
“Ladies and gentlemen, if I have fair play I can prove that man is
a ‘fake,’ and that he is trying to sneak out of a trick he promised
to perform. He said he would make a silver mine of me, and now he is
trying to prove I am only a _quicksilver_ mine, and got away quickly
with his money. I ask fair play.”
The audience was interested and excited, and Ike continued:
“Those gentlemen searched me; let them search that fellow and if my
words aren’t proven true, he can kick me off the stage.”
The magician, not dreaming of possibilities, threw his arms aloft and
challenged:
“All right, gentlemen, search me.”
The gentlemen went into the “fake’s” pockets and to the amazement of
every one present drew forth the money. There was no acting in surprise
and even alarm displayed by the “fake.” He stood like one stricken with
paralysis. He was dumb.
“Now, then, gentlemen, did I steal his money? Isn’t he a ‘fake,’ and
didn’t he try to crawl out of his trick by accusing me?”
There is no consideration on a variety stage. The side-show had
consumed all the allotted time of the “fake,” the succeeding performers
were ready to go on, they were in the wings and calling upon the “fake”
to come off.
The man was dizzy with surprise, and Ike said:
“You let him go on with his trick. He can’t come the trick of making
three dollars out of me, or work upon the sympathies of this audience
to make good his three dollars.”
The proprietor had been a witness of the affair. He had been standing
in the front. He went round to the stage and appeared just in time to
call the man off. The latter made a bow to the audience, and amidst a
shower of hisses left the stage, and our hero regained his seat in the
audience.
Lulu, who had been greatly excited, inquired:
“Did he really accuse you falsely, Ike?”
“You saw what occurred,” was all that our hero answered. He was
satisfied; the man whom he had made a show of once kicked him without
cause. Our hero recollected the kick and thus repaid it.
When the show was over Ike and Lulu returned home. On the following day
Ike was busy. He was preparing the living receipt for the landlord when
he called. At the appointed hour the man appeared and to his surprise
at a table there sat the old magician, Andro.
“Well, what do you want,” in a gruff tone demanded the old necromancer.
The landlord stared in amazement.
“I’ve been told,” said the old man at the table, “that you claim I did
not pay three months’ rent in advance.”
“I had forgotten it, and I came to-night to tell you I had made a
mistake.”
“Oh, you called to explain your mistake?”
“I did.”
“Then you admit I paid you three months’ rent in advance?”
“Ah, certainly; ah, certainly; I made a mistake.”
At this moment there came an inquiry from the hall.
“Will you want me, sir?”
“No, officer, you can go, I was about to have this man arrested.”
The landlord stared; he had not seen an officer when he entered the
room, and he commenced to make all manner of apologies, and old Andro
said:
“I am going away for a few weeks, and I trust this mistake won’t occur
again.”
The landlord departed, still apologizing until the last moment, and
after he had gone the pretended Andro leaped from his seat, slid off a
disguise, and Ike, the tricky and wonderful Ike, ran down the stairs
calling after the landlord, and when the latter answered, the boy said:
“Mr. Andro says you did not stop to examine the receipt.”
“Ah, that’s all right; I know he has the receipt. I do not wish to see
it; it was all a mistake.”
Ike returned to the room and Mrs. Pell and Lulu came from the inner
room, and the lady said:
“Ike, you are a wonderful fellow.”
Even in less than two days, with good food and care, Mrs. Pell had
commenced to show considerable improvement, so that she was able to
leave her bed, and move from room to room.
She and Ike sat down for a long talk. Ike had told his history and he
proposed that as he had lost his father, as he called old Andro, Mrs.
Pell would have to be a mother to him, and he added:
“I must hie me around and get into making money.”
“Why don’t you start out as a magician and ventriloquist?”
“For the best reason in the world,” answered Ike. “There are so many
‘fakes’ in the business it has ceased to be a drawing card, and there
are hundreds of amateurs in the business. I’ve got a scheme, however,
and I will carry it out. I have an idea I can make money and possibly
a fortune in time. We will see, but I need friends, I need some one to
confide in, to counsel with me, and to be company for me, and I want
you to become my mother.”
“I do not feel that it is right for me to permit you to support myself
and my child, and as soon as my health is fully restored I shall
recommence to earn my own living.”
“We will talk about that when your health is restored. In the meantime,
you are to act as counselor and friend to me.”
A few days passed and Ike was casting around for an opening, not on
the boards, but in reality a chance to start in and make a dollar,
as he put it. He had a home but no money, and there were three to
feed; all his provisions were gone and also all his money, and it was
absolutely necessary that he should get on to something that would
bring in a dollar or two, and in a most remarkable and really dramatic
manner the opportunity at last opened up to him.