CHAPTER IV
TWITTER OR TWEET
Hiram Hooker washed in the community lavatory in the hall next morning.Then he sought the squint-eyed landlord and paid a week's room rent inadvance, thereby saving fifty cents.
He wished to strike out at once after breakfast to begin justifyingUncle Sebastian's faith in him, but so far he had not laid a plan. Henoticed lettering on a door in the hall which dignified what lay beyondas a "lounging room." The door stood ajar, and he saw that the roomwas empty. He decided to go in and think. A thousand and one wondersawaited his curious eyes, but they must wait. His hundred dollars haddwindled perceptibly; it was time to give his future a practicalthought or two.
In the "lounging room" were a long plain board writing-table, tenyellow kitchen chairs. Hiram took a seat by a window overlookingKearny Street.
He could not plan, he found, for his ideas of seeking employment wereof the vaguest; he did not know where to look for it, nor what dutieshe should state that he could perform. Dreaming of it up there inMendocino County, climbing up in the world from the bottom rung hadseemed so easy.
He began feeling a little lonesome. He had resolved to brave thefascinating eyes of the girl of the restaurant again, and perhaps speakto her if occasion offered, when the door opened and three men cameinto the lounging room.
Two of them scraped chairs to the table and from a drawer took a dirtypack of cards and a homemade cribbage board, with headless matches formarkers. The third took from his pocket a folded newspaper and satdown at the window opposite Hiram. He at once began reading, andseemed not to be a companion of the other two. Hiram took note that heperused the want-ad sheets.
Hiram studied the two at cards. He resolved that he did not like theirunkempt looks, so turned his attention to the man with the paper.
In dress this man was in a class with the other two, though perhaps alittle better groomed. But a careful observer would have taken note ofcertain finer characteristics in the face. It was the face of a man inthe thirties, robust and good-natured, with bushy brows, slate-blueeyes, and a nose that would have been termed Grecian if it had not beenfor a semiconical twist to the left. He was of stalky build, carefullyshaved that morning, and wore a dingy turndown collar. His shoes,though scuffed with wear, were polished.
In the midst of this scrutiny the man suddenly lowered the paper andleveled his eyes at Hiram. The look almost said "What do you want?" ina disinterested though not antagonistic way. Hiram was caughtunawares. He felt the question and had answered it, to cover hisembarrassment, before he knew the words were coming.
"D'ye find any jobs in the paper?"
The two at cards looked quickly at Hiram and shrugged, and the gamewent on in silence, as before.
"What d'ye follow?" asked the man with the twisted nose in a sort ofrollicking voice by no means unpleasant.
"D'ye mean what c'n I do?"
The man with the paper nodded.
Hiram scraped his chair a foot closer. "Why, I don't exactly know.I'm willin' to do anything--that is, try."
The slate-blue eyes quizzically studied Hiram a little longer, thensettled on the paper once more.
A few moments they scanned the column. Then:
"Maybe some o' these'll look attractive ol'-timer. 'Wanted threebushelmen; one coat-maker; first-class pants operator; shoe shiner; twofarm carpenters, Arizona, four dollars a day, fare refunded; twocarpenters, city, five dollars a day; one hundred muckers, New Mexico,two-fifty day; one trammer, three-fifty day; one hundred laborers, NewMexico, three dollars day; porter in bakery, city, must be sober; boy,sixteen years old, make himself generally useful in pickle plant; twojerkline drivers--must be good, southern California; cooks, waiters,teamsters, muckers galore. Call and see us. Morgan & Stroud,Four-hundred-and-fifteen Clay Street.'"
He lowered the paper and once more fixed the slate-blue eyes on Hiram."There you are, ol'-timer--pick yer road to wealth and prominence."
His smile brought Hiram's chair closer.
"How d'ye get any o' these jobs?" he asked.
"Part with two dollars to Morgan & Stroud for the address o' theadvertiser, then beat the other fella to it," was the reply.
"But they wanted a hundred muckers, you read."
"Oh, that's different. They ship you out for two dollars to where thejob is. The contractor deducts your fare from your first month's payand refunds it to the railroad company, or sticks it in his pocket ifhe's wise. Le's see--where they shippin'?" He glanced at the columnagain. "N' Mexico, eh? Yes, they'll ship you down there for twodollars, and you c'n go to work and grow up with the country. C'n youdrive a team?"
"Sure," said Hiram. "I c'n drive eight or ten, or even sixteenjerkline, too. You read something about jerkline skinners."
"Then I'd go as a jerkline skinner at--what is it?--fifty-five andfound. Found means board, you know."
"And you're sure they'll send me down to southern California for twodollars and gi' me a job drivin' mules?"
"They'll be tickled to death to do it. Where you from?"
Hiram heaved a sigh. "Mendocino County," he replied.
"Hittin' the trail for the first time, eh?"
The questioner evidently knew it, so Hiram did not reply.
"M'm-m! Fine big country--Mendocino. You oughta stayed there. Thatcountry'll go to work and come out with a loud report some day."
"You've been there?" asked Hiram eagerly.
"Been everywhere."
"What do you follow?" Hiram used the new expression almostunconsciously.
"I'm a promoter and capitalist."
"A promoter and capitalist," Hiram repeated vaguely.
"Yep. At present, though, I ain't workin' at the capitalist end. ButI'm always a promoter."
Hiram was growing uncomfortable. He had been warming toward thisgenial stranger; now he felt he was being ridiculed. He kept silentand looked out the window.
The other nonchalantly resumed his paper as if the conversation wereover.
But Hiram did not wish it to end here. Despite the stranger'sfantastic statement, there was that in his bearing which told Hiram hemeant what he said, and that, furthermore, it was with him a matter ofindifference whether any one believed him or not. He wished the twotramps would leave. He felt that then he could talk to the other manwith less reserve.
As he sat there silently thinking, this wish was granted. A thirdunkempt individual thrust his head in at the door and remarked, "Hey,youse!"
The cribbage players looked up.
In explanation the man in the door held up a quarter between acalloused forefinger and thumb.
A broad grin broke on the face of one of the players as he scraped backhis chair and rose. "Cheese, Thumbscrew, where'd youse glom it?" hegasped ecstatically.
"Never mind w'ere I glommed it, Scully," was the retort. "De point is,are youse guys in on helpin' me lick up a growler?"
The other tramp had risen, and spoke for both as he strode toward thedoor. "Lead us to it, Thumbscrew," he swaggered portentously; "lead usto it, ol'-timer!" And the door slammed behind the three.
Hiram glanced back at the man behind the newspaper. He had not so muchas slanted a look toward the door.
Hiram's chance had come. After a silent minute he essayed:
"But I didn't come to the city to leave it right away and go to drivin'mules. I came here to get a start."
The other politely lowered his paper. "What're you doin'--breakin'loose from home to make yer fortune?" he asked.
Hiram nodded and smiled.
The man surveyed him for the first time from head to foot. "Been afarmer up in Mendocino?" he queried.
"Sorta," Hiram admitted. Then in a low voice: "To tell the truth, thisis my first time in a city. I got in last night. I've never been outo' Mendocino County but once before."
A few wrinkles of puzzlement came between the other's brows. "How oldare you?"
"Twenty-six," was Hiram's meek confess
ion.
The stranger studied, a whimsical smile twisting his lips, a far-awaylook in the slate-blue eyes. With a little jerk he emerged fromreverie and asked:
"And what d'ye expect to take up here in Frisco?"
Hiram scraped his chair still closer. "I don't know," he acknowledged."To tell the truth, I'm pretty green. I don't know anybody here anddon't know where to begin."
"Don't say green," corrected the other. "That's obsolete. Say raw, orthat you're a hick, or a come-on. Well, what d'ye want to follow?"
"I thought if I could get into some big man's office and work up, Imight reach----"
The other man raised his hand protestingly and his face assumed a sickexpression.
"Forget it! Forget it!" he cried. "Say, that's the biggest mistake afella like you could make. Your feet are too big for an office. Say,take this from me: An office man is always an office man. He knows thefiggers--nothing else. The fella out on the works is the lad thatknows the fundamentals of the job. Take this railroad-constructionbusiness, for instance: When the contractor wants a new generalsuperintendent he don't make him out of an office man. He goes out onthe job and gets him. You get offices outa your head, and get out andlearn something." He was thoughtful a minute, then finished with thequestion: "How long are you on cash?"
"I haven't got much," Hiram confessed--"sixty some dollars."
"M'm-m," the other said musingly. Then, after another thoughtfulpause: "Say, I suppose you're a little shy about bracin' theseemployment men, ain't you?"
Hiram nodded.
"Then I'll tell you what I'll do: You go to work and dig up my fee, andI'll go down to southern California with you on the jerkline job. Ibeen wantin' to get outa Frisco for a week, but couldn't raise theprice. Anywhere'll suit me, where there's a chance o' makin' a littlestake. That's what you wanta do--go to work and make a stake. Thenlook about for something you c'n float for yourself. There's nothin'in working for somebody else. Work for yourself if it's only running apeanut stand. Southern California'll do. What d'ye say?"
"D'ye mean you're broke?"
"Broke! I'm ruined!"
"How did you lose your money?" Hiram asked innocently.
"You're askin' for the story o' my life. What d'ye say, now? Le's goto work and get breakfast, then enter Morgan & Stroud's in our usualgraceful manner and tell 'em we've decided to accept their kind offerand let 'em ship us south. You'll probably learn a few things on thattrip."
"Are you a jerkline skinner?"
"I dunno. Maybe I am. I never tried. But if that's what you wantahit--me, too. Say, what's your name?"
"Hiram Hooker."
"That's a peach, all right. They sure labeled you for the part. Mineain't much better though. They call me Twitter-or-Tweet."
"What!"
"Proves I'm a bird, don't it? My name is Orr Tweet. Can you beat it?So they call me Twitter-or-Tweet, or just Twitter--or sometimesPlaymate. I'm gregarious. I gotta have a partner all the time. I'llplay with any o' the little boys so long as they're nice to me."
He handed Hiram a card. It read:
ORR TWEET
REPRESENTING THE CUCAMONGA DEVELOPMENT COMPANY Cerro Gordo, Mexico
THE HOMESEEKERS' PROMISED LAND OF MILK AND HONEY
"That Cucamonga Development Company and the milk-and-honey business ispasse," explained Mr. Tweet, "but I've got no other card. They pinchedthe owners, and I flew the coop before they could lay it onto me.Crooked deal."
"What was it?" Hiram asked vaguely.
"Banana plantation," Tweet replied lightly. "At least they called itthat--I never saw it. I was just promotin' the deal. Well, what d'yesay?" he persisted. "I'm broke and I need a little cash. But I'm amoney getter! You tide me over this little depression and I'llremember you. We may strike somethin' that'll look good anywherebetween here and there. If so, we'll drop off and look into it."
Hiram did not know what to say. He had no experience in reading humannature, and Mr. Tweet would have appeared as an enigma to many moreastute than Hiram.
"What do you want me to do?" he hedged.
"Hold me up, if your coin lasts, till I hit the ball--that's all.You'll never regret it." Tweet sat pulling his twisted nose from sideto side, as if trying to straighten it.
"But I don't understand. You seem to be--that is, you call yourself acapitalist, and you're only--I mean it seems funny----"
"I get you. I talk like a millionaire and travel with tramps." Tweetsighed. "Well, my faculty for breedin' confidence in others is one o'the big secrets o' my success. Success, I say--get that? If thisfaculty won't work on you, then I lose this time. I'll say no more.Think it over."
He yawned, rose, and started for the door.
"Are--are you goin' down on the street?" Hiram asked timidly.
"Yes, I thought I'd stroll about a bit."
"I--I guess I'll go with you, if you don't mind."
"Sure not--come on."
Hiram rose quickly and followed him out. Even though he were todistrust this man, in the end, the thought of losing him now wasappalling.
Down on the street he thought of breakfast and paused before therestaurant.
"Have you had breakfast, Mr. Tweet?" he asked.
Tweet stopped and looked at him soberly. "Are you invitin' me todine?" he said quizzically.
"Well, kinda that way," admitted Hiram with a foolish grin. "I haven'teaten myself, and----"
"I haven't eaten myself either, nor anybody else since yesterdaymornin'. I accept."
And promptly Mr. Tweet pushed ahead through the swinging doors.
The She Boss: A Western Story Page 4
