Blister Jones Part 23

"'She's not my full sister,' I says. 'Our mothers weren't the same.'

"The chicken coughs a couple of times.

"'That explains it,' says the swell guy.

"'Now,' I says to him, 'I hate to tie a can to one of sis's friend, but she's goin' East at six o'clock, 'n' she's got to pack her duds.'

"'Oh, Blister, _am_ I?' says the chicken.

"'Yep, I hears from auntie,' I says, pullin' out the roll 'n' lay in'

it on the table.

"The chicken gives a shriek, 'n' starts to hug me right in front of the swell guy.

"'I seem to be dee tro,' says he, 'n' backs out the door.

"'Where did you get the money?' says the chicken, countin' the roll.

'Why! There's _over a hundred here_!'

"I takes fifty bucks fur myself, 'n' hands her the rest.

"'I cops it at a poolroom,' I says. 'A ten-to-one shot comes through fur me. Now get busy. I'll send fur your trunk in ten minutes.'

"The chicken won't hear of ridin' in a street-car, so we takes a cab like a couple of Trust maggots.

"'I'll buy your ticket 'n' check your trunk fur you,' I says, when we get to the station. 'Where do you want to go? New York?'

"'Anywhere you say,' she says. . .

"I'm standin' there lookin' at her, lettin' this sink into my bean, 'n'

she begins to get red.

"'Don't stand there gawking at me!' she says, stampin' her foot. 'Say something!'

"'How about this St. Louis guy?' I says. 'With all his--'

"'Oh, he was only a Johnny,' she says.

"'How about De Mott?' I says.

"'Ugh!' she says, makin' a face.

"I don't say nothin' after that till I has it all thought out. The start looks awful good, but I begins to weaken when I thinks of the finish.

"'You act just suffocated with pleasure,' says the chicken. But I don't pay no attention.

"'You'll be lucky if you gets a job swipin' fur your eats when you hit New Awlins,' I says to myself. 'Wouldn't you look immense with a doll on your staff?'

"'Now, listen,' I says to her, 'how long is this here panic goin' to last?'

"'You can search me,' she says.

"'Well, how long is this hundred goin' to last?' I says.

"'Not long,' she says.

"'That's the answer,' I says. 'Now, you hop a deep sea goin' rattler fur New York while the hoppin' 's good.'

"'But, Blister,' she says, 'at New Orleans you could win lots of money--think how much you've made already--and I could go to the races every day!'

"'Furget it,' I says. 'You think you're a wise girl. Why, you ain't nothin' but a child! A break like I has to-day don't come but seldom.

If I cops the coin easy, like you figgers, why am I chambermaid to two dogs in a b.u.m show at twenty-five per? Now slip me the price of a ticket to New York,' I says, 'or I goes 'n' buys it out of my own roll, 'n' then I ain't got enough left to get to New Awlins.'

"She don't say nothin' more, but hands me the dough. I buys her ticket 'n' checks her trunk fur her. She keeps real quiet till her rattler's ready. I kisses her good-by when they calls the train fur New York, 'n' still she don't say nothin'.

"'What's on your mind, girlie?' I says.

"'Nothing much,' she says. 'Only I'm letter perfect in the turnin'-down act, but when it's the other way--I ain't up in my lines.'" . . .

Blister waved to a waiter and I saw there was to be no more.

"Did you ever see her again?" I inquired.

"Now you're askin' questions," said Blister.

TReS JOLIE

The hot inky odors of a newspaper plant took me by the throat during my progress in the whiny elevator to the third floor.

Before attacking the day's editorial I tried to decide whether it was the nerve flicking clash of the linotypes, the pecking chatter of the typewriters, or the jarring rumble of the big cylinder presses that was taking the life out of my work. I was impartial in this, but gave it up.

And then a letter was dropped on the desk before me, and I recognized in the penciled address upon the envelope the unformed hand of Blister Jones.

"Dear Friend," the letter began, and somehow the ache behind my eyes died out as I read. 'I guess you are thinking me dead by this time on account of not hearing from me sooner in answer to yours. Well, this is to show you I am alive and kicking. I guess you have read how good the mare is doing. She is a good mare, as good as her dam. I had some mean luck with her at Nashville by her going lame for me, so she could not start in the big stake, but she is O. K. now. I note what you said about being sick. That is tough. Why don't you come to Louisville and see the mare run in the derby. If you would only bet, I can give you a steer that would put you right and pay all your expenses. Well, this is all for the present.

"Resp.

"Blister Jones.

"P. S. Now, be sure to come as I want you to see the mare. She is sure a good mare."

I laid the letter down with a sigh. The mare referred to was the now mighty Tres Jolie favorite for the Kentucky Derby. I had seen her once when a two-year-old, and I remembered Blister's pride as he told me she was to be placed in his hands by Judge Dillon.