by H. C. Witwer
CHAPTER II
EAST LYNCH
Success has ruined more guys than failure ever will. It's like a SantaCruz rum milk punch on an empty stomach--there's very few people canstand it. Many a guy that's a regular fellow at a hundred a month,becomes a boob at a hundred a week. What beat Napoleon, Caesar andNero--failure? No, success! Give the thing the once over some timeand you'll see that I'm right.
Success is the large evenin' with the boys at the lodge and failure isthe mornin' after. As a matter of fact, they're twins. Often you canbe a success without knowin' it, so if you been a failure all your lifeaccordin' to your own dope, cheer up. But when you get up to the topwhere you can look down at all these other guys tryin' to sidestep thebanana peels of life and climb up with you, knock off thinkin' what abig guy you are for a minute and give ten minutes to thinkin' what atough time you had gettin' there. Give five minutes more to ruminatin'on how long the mob remembers a loser and you'll find it the bestsixteen minutes you ever spent in your life.
In these days when the world is just a great big baby yellin' for a newtoy every second, any simp can beat his way to the top. The real stuntis _stayin' there_ after you arrive!
Kid Scanlan was a good sample of that. When the Kid was fightin' forbean money and the exercise, he never spent nothin' but the evenin' andvery little of that. He didn't know whether booze was a drink or aliniment and the only ladies he was bothered about was his mother. Butwhen he knocked out One-Punch Ross for the title and eased himself intothe movies, it was all different. He begin to spend money like avice-investigating committee, knock around with bartenders and give into all the strange desires that hits a guy with his health and abankroll. I stood by and cheered for a while until he crashes in lovewith this movie queen, Miss Vincent, that got more money a start thanthe Kid did in a season and more letters from well wishin' males than anewly elected mayor. Then I stepped in and saved the Kid just beforehe become a total loss.
I was standin' by the African Desert one day watchin' them take apicture called "Rapacious Rupert's Revenge," when the Kid comes overand calls me aside. Since he had become a actor he had gave himself upto dressin' in panama hats, Palm Beach suits and white shoes. Hereminded me of the handsome young lieutenant in a musical comedy.Every time I seen him in that outfit I expected to hear him burst intosome song like, "All hail, the Queen comes thither!" Know what I mean?
Well, havin' lured me away under the shade of some palm trees, the Kidtells me he's goin' over to Frisco on a little shoppin' expedition, andhe wants me to come with him. I says I can't drink a thing because Ihave had a terrible headache since the night before when him and me andsome camera men went to Montana Bill's and toyed with the illegal brewfor a few hours.
"That last round," I says, "which I'll always remember because it cometo six eighty-five, was what ruined me. The bartender must have gonecrazy and put booze in them cocktails, because I've had that headacheever since!"
"It ain't the cocktails that give you the headache," the Kid tells me,"it was the check. And you must have had a bun on before that, anyhow,because you paid it! But that's got nothin' to do with this here tripto Frisco. I'm not goin' to stop anywheres for no powders. I'm gonnaget somethin' I've needed for a long time!"
"What is it," I asks him, "a clean collar?"
"I wish you'd save that comedy for some rainy Sunday," he says; "thatstuff of yours is about as funny as a broken arm! Since I been outhere with these swell actors, I been changin' my clothes so often thatI'll bet my body thinks I'm kiddin' it. Stop knockin' and come over toFrisco with me and--"
I don't know what else he was goin' to say, because just at that minutea Kansas cyclone on wheels come between us and I come to in a ditchabout five feet from where the Kid is tryin' to see can he really standon his head. When I had picked up enough ambition to get to my feet, Iwent over and jacked up the Kid. About half a mile up the road thething which had attacked us is turnin' around.
"Run for your life!" I yells to the Kid. "It's comin' back!"
Before we could pick our hidin' places, the thing has drawed up infront of us and we see it's one of them trick autos known to the tradeas racin' cars. I recognized it right away as belongin' to MissVincent. The owner was in the car and beside her was Edmund De Vronde,the shop-girls' delight. The Kid and De Vronde had took to each otherfrom the minute they first met like a ferret does to a rat. It was acase of hate at first sight. So you can figure that this littleincident did nothin' to cement the friendship. Miss Vincent leaps outof the thing and comes runnin' over to us.
"Good Heavens!" she says. "You're not hurt, are you?"
She's lookin' right past me and at the Kid like it made little or nodifference whether _I_ was damaged or not.
The Kid throws half an acre of California out of his collar and removesa few pebbles and a cigar butt from his ear.
"No!" he growls, with a sarcastical smile. "Was they many killed?"
She takes out a little trick silk handkerchief and wipes off his facewith it.
"I meant to step on the foot brake," she explains, "and I must havestepped on the gas by mistake!"
"You must have stepped on the dynamite," I butts in, "because it blowedme into the ditch!"
The Kid shakes a bucket or so of sand out of his hair and looks over atthe car where De Vronde is examin' us through a pair of cheaters andenjoyin' himself scandalously.
"I see you got Foolish with you," says the Kid to Miss Vincent."What's the matter--are you off me now?"
She smiles and wipes some mud off the Kid's collar.
"Why, no," she tells him. "Genaro is putting on 'The Escapes of Eva'this morning and I'm playing the lead opposite Mr. De Vronde. Ihappened to pick him up on the road and I'm bringing him in, that'sall."
"Yeh?" says the Kid, still lookin' over at the car. "What are _you_laughin' at, Stupid?" he snarls suddenly at De Vronde.
De Vronde give a shiver and the glasses fell off in the bottom of thecar. While he was stoopin' down to look for 'em, the Kid turns to MissVincent.
"I only wish he had been drivin' the thing," he says, "because then I'dhave some excuse for bouncin' him! On the level, now," he goes on,winkin' at her, "he _was_ drivin' the thing, wasn't he?"
"Oh, no!" she answers. "I was at the wheel."
The Kid frowns and thinks for a minute.
"Well," he says finally, takin' another look at De Vronde, "ain't thebrakes or somethin' where he was sittin'?"
"No!" she tells him, grabbin' him by the arm. "Please don't lose yourhead now and start a fuss! I'm awfully sorry this happened, but aslong as neither of you were hurt and--"
"It didn't do me no _good_, that's a cinch!" butts in the Kid, with ameanin' look at his spoiled scenery. He walks over to the car andglares up at De Vronde. "Hey!" he snarls. "What d'ye mean by bein' ina automobile that runs over me, eh?"
De Vronde moves as far over as the seat will let him, and then fallsback on prayer.
"I must decline to enter any controversy with you," he pipes, after aminute. "You were standing in the right of way and--"
The Kid grins and holds up his hand. His face has lighted all up andhe's lickin' his lips like he always did in the ring when he seen theother guy was pickin' out a place to fall. He's walked around to whereDe Vronde had been sittin' and piped a little handle stickin' up.
"What's this?" he calls to Miss Vincent, who's climbin' in the otherside.
"That's just the oil pump," she says.
The Kid suddenly reaches up, grabs De Vronde by the arm and jerks himout of the car.
"You big stiff!" he roars. "Why didn't you pump that oil, hey? If youhad done that, the thing wouldn't have hit us! I knowed it was allyour fault--you deliberately laid off that pump, hopin' we'd getkilled!"
With that he starts an uppercut from the ground, but I yanked him awayjust as De Vronde murmurs, "Safety first!" and takes a dive. MissVincent gets out and gives me a hand with the Kid, and De Vronde sitsup
and menaces us with his cane.
"That isn't a bit nice!" Miss Vincent frowns at the Kid. "That'sruffianly! You never should have struck him!"
"I didn't hit him!" yells the Kid. "The big tramp quit! If I had hithim he wouldn't be gettin' up."
He starts over again, but I held him until she has climbed into the carwith De Vronde and they shoot up the road. Just before theydisappeared, De Vronde turns around in the seat and shakes his fingerat us.
"Only the presence of the lady," he calls, "saves you from my wrath!"
"Come on!" says the Kid, grabbin' my arm. "Let's get the next trainfor Frisco, before I run after that guy and flatten him! Believe me,"he goes on, lookin' up the road after the car, "I'll get that birdbefore the day is over if I have to bust a leg!"
And that's just what he did--both!
All the way over in the train I tried to work the third degree on theKid to find out what he was goin' to buy, but there was nothin' doin'.He stalled me off until we pull into the town and then he takes me to astreet that was so far from the railroad station I come near castin' ashoe on the way over. About half way down this boulevard there's agarage and the Kid stops in front of it.
"Wait here!" he tells me. "And don't let nobody give you no babies tomind. I'll be right out!"
He slips inside and I'm lookin' the joint over when a big sign catchesmy eye. I took one good flash at the thing, and then I starts right inafter the Kid. A friend of mine in New York had gone into a place witha sign on it like that one time and made a purchase. Six months laterwhen he come out of the hospital, he claimed the bare smell of gasolinemade him faint Here's what it said on that sign,
J. MARKOWITZ
USED AND NEARLY NEW AUTOS
FOR SALE
It was kinda dark inside and it takes me a minute to get my bearin's,but finally I see the Kid and a snappy dressed guy standin' in front ofwhat I at first thought was a Pullman sleeper. When I get a close up,though, I find it's only a tourin' car. It was the biggest automobileI ever seen in my life; a sightseein' bus would have looked like arunabout alongside of it. There was one there and it did! The thinghadn't been painted since the _Maine_ was blowed up, and you could seethe guy that had been keepin' it was fond of the open air, becausethere was samples of mud from probably all over the world on it.
"You could believe it, you're gettin' it a practically brand new car!"the young feller is tellin' the Kid. "The shoes are in A number onecondition--all they need is now vulcanizin', and Oi!--how that carcould travel!"
"Just a minute!" I butts in. "Before you make this sale, I want tospeak to my friend here."
Both him and the Kid glares at me, and the Kid pushes me aside.
"Lay off!" he says. "I know just what you're gonna say. There's nouse of you tryin' to discourage me, because I'm gonna buy a car. HereI am makin' all kinds of money and I might as well be a bum!--noautomobile or nothin'. I should have had a car long ago; all the bigleaguers own their own tourin' cars. There's no class to you any more,if you don't flit from place to place in your own bus!"
"Yeh?" I comes back. "Well, Washington never had no car, but thatdidn't stop _him_ from gettin' over! I never heard of Columbus gettin'pinched for speedin' and Shakespeare never had no trouble withblowouts. Yet all them birds was looked on as the loud crash in theirtime. What's the answer to that?"
In butts I. Markowitz, shovin' his hat back on his ears.
"That brings us right down to the present!" he says. "And I could tellyou why none of your friends had oitermobiles. Cars was too expensivein them days--a millionaire even would have to talk it over with hiswife before they should buy one. But now, almost they give them away!Materials is cheaper, in Europe the war is over and now competitionis--is--more! That's why I'm able to let your friend have this factorypet here for eight hundred dollars. A bargain you ask me? A man neverheard a bargain like that!"
"Don't worry!" I tells him. "Nobody will ever hear about it from me.If you made him a present of it and throwed in the garage, it wouldstill be expensive!"
"Who's buyin' this car?" snarls the Kid. "You or me?"
"Not guilty!" I says. "If you got to have a car, why don't you buy anew one?"
"This is the same as new!" pipes I. Markowitz.
"Speak when you're spoken to, Stupid!" I says.
"Don't start nothin' here," the Kid tells me, pullin' me away. "Idon't want none of them new cars. They're too stiff and I might go outand hit somebody the first crack out of the box. I want one that'sbeen broke in."
"Well," I laughs, "that's what you're gettin', believe me! That therething has been broke in and out!" I turns to I. Markowitz. "What makeis the old boiler?" I asks him.
"Boiler he calls it!" he says, throwin' up his hands and lookin' at theceilin'. "It's an A. G. F. I suppose even you know what an A numberone car that is, don't you?"
"No!" I answers. "But I know what A. G. F. means."
He falls.
"What?" he wants to know.
"Always Gettin' Fixed!" I tells him. "They make all them used cars. Iknow a guy had two of them and between 'em they made a fortune forthree garages and five lawyers! How old is it?"
"Old!" says I. Markowitz, recovering "Who said it was old? Your wifeshould be as young as that car! It was turned in here last week, onlyeight short days from the factory. The owner was sudden called heshould go out of town and--"
"And he went somewheres and got an automobile to make the trip," I cutshim off, "and left this thing here!"
"Don't mind him!" says the Kid, gettin' impatient. "Gimme a receipt."He digs down for the roll.
While I. Markowitz is countin' the money with lovin' fingers, I wentaround to one side of the so called auto and looked at the speedometer.One flash at the little trick clock was ample.
"Stop!" I yells, glarin' at him. "How long did you say this car hadbeen out of the factory?"
"Right away he hollers at me!" says I. Markowitz to the Kid. "A week."
"Well," I tells him, "all I got to say is that the bird that had itmust have been fleein' the police! He certainly seen a lot of theworld, but I can't figure how he slept. He was what you could call amotorin' fool. It says on this speedometer here, 45,687 miles and ifthat guy did it in a week, I got to hand it to him! I'll bet he's sonutty over speed that he's goin' around now bein' shot out of cannonsfrom place to place, eh?"
I. Markowitz gets kinda balled up and blows his nose twice.
"That must be the--the--motor number!" he stammers.
"Sure!" nods the Kid. "Don't mind him, he's always got the hammer out.Count that change and gimme a receipt."
"Wait!" I says. "Gimme one more chance to save you from givin'yourself the work. Have you heard the motor turn over? Does theclutch slip in all right? Do the brakes work? Has the--"
"Say!" butts in the Kid. "What d'ye think I been doin'--workin' hereat nights? Don't mind him," he tells I. Markowitz, who ain't. "Hurryup with that receipt!"
"How is the motor?" I asks that brigand. "Tell me that, will you?"
"Convalescent!" he sneers, tuckin' the Kid's bankroll away.
"Some motor, eh?" pipes the Kid. "And it's got a one-man top on itbesides, ain't it?" he asks I. Markowitz.
"Why not?" says he. "Everything new and up to date you would find onthis car which only yesterday I could have sold to a feller for athousand dollars!"
After pullin' that, he walks over to the thing and climbs in the back."An example!" he says. "If you're alone in the car and there's nobodywith you, you only should stand up on the seat and pull up the top likethis, if it comes up a rain. Then you--"
I didn't hear the rest on account of him havin' trouble makin' hisvoice travel from under the seat, because he reached up and pulledsomethin' here and jerked somethin' there--and that one-man top madegood! I thought at first the ceilin' of the joint had fell in, andI'll bet I. Markowitz _knowed_ it had, but then I seen it was only thething that keeps
the rain out of the car. Me and the Kid drags himout, and as soon as he gets on his feet and felt to see if he had hiswatch and so forth, he wipes the dirt out of his eyes and turns on me.
"It's a wonder I ain't now dead on account from you?" he snarls. "Isuppose you're one of them wise fellers from New Jersey, which they gotto be showed everything, heh?"
"Missouri!" I says. "Not New Jersey. If I was from New Jersey, Iwould probably be fightin' with the Kid to let _me_ buy the car!"
"It's got a self-commencer on it, too!" yelps the Kid, climbin' intothe front seat. "See--lookit!" He presses a button with his foot anda laughin' hyena or somethin' in the hood moans a couple of times andthen passes away.
"The first time I wouldn't be surprised you should have to crank it,"says I. Markowitz. "The motor has been standin' so long--I mean--thatis--speakin' of motors, I think that one is maybe a little cold! Onceshe gets runnin' everything will be A number one!"
I goes around the front of the thing and stoops down.
"Put her on battery, if there's any on there," I calls to the Kid, "andI'll spin the motor!"
I. Markowitz steps over and lays his hand on my arm. His face is asserious as prohibition.
"Its only fair I should tell you," he whispers, "that she kicks alittle!"
I give him a ungrateful look and grabs hold of the crank. Afterturnin' the thing ninety-four times without gettin' nothin' but ablister on my thumb, I quit.
"Nothin' stirrin'," I remarks to I. Markowitz.
"Believe me, that's funny!" he tells me, shakin' his head like he hadball bearin's in his neck.
"Ain't it?" I says. "Are you positive they's a motor inside there?"
He makes a funny little noise in his throat and not knowin' him long, Ididn't know what he meant. There's a big husky in overalls walkin' bywith plenty of medium oil on his face and a monkey wrench in his hand.I. Markowitz hisses at him, and they exchange jokes in some foreignlanguage for a minute and then the new-comer grabs hold of that cranklike the idea was to see if he could upset the car in three twists. Hegives it a turn, and I guess the Kid had got to monkeyin' around themlittle buttons on the steerin' wheel because it went off like a cannon.First, there was a great big bang! And then a cloud of smoke rolls outof the back of the car and the bird that had wound the thing up come toin an oil can, half way across the floor. The Kid fell off the seatand me and I. Markowitz busted the hundred yard record to the frontdoor.
"That was a rotten trick, wasn't it?" I asks him when we stopped.
"What do you talk tricks?" he pants.
"Why," I tells him, "puttin' that dynamite in the hood!"
"That wasn't dynamite," he says. "She only backfired a little. Iwouldn't be surprised if it turned out there was, now, too much air inthe carburetor. The only reason I ran out here is because I seen itpassin' a friend of mine and--"
"I know," I cuts him off. "I seen it too!"
We go back to the Kid and his play toy, and he's leanin' up against theside of it rubbin' his shoulder and scowlin'.
"What kind of stuff was that, eh?" he growls at I. Markowitz. "I likedto broke my neck!"
"'Snothin'!" says he, pattin' the Kid on the back and smilin'. "Youcould do that with a new car, you could take my word for it. It's all,now, experience!" He looks around. "Herschel!" he hollers.
It turns out that Herschel is the guy that had wound the thing up, andhe gets out of the oil can and comes over, mutterin' to himself andglarin' at all of us. He takes off the hood and stalls around it witha hammer and a monkey wrench for a minute, still mutterin' away, andyou could see he wasn't wishin' us no luck. Finally, he puts the hoodon again and walks around to the crank.
"As soon as you could hear it buzz," he grunts at the Kid, "you shouldgive her some gas."
I stood aside and picked out my exit, and I. Markowitz seen his friendpassin' again so he started for the door. The Kid says we're bothyellah and climbs gamely back into the seat. Herschel stops mutterin'long enough to give the crank a turn, which same he did. This timethere was no shots fired, but the thing begins the darndest racket Iever heard in my life. A boiler factory would have quit cold alongsideof that motor and a cavalry charge would have gone unnoticed on thesame floor. I asked I. Markowitz what broke, and he says nothin' butthat the noise is caused by the motor bein' so powerful, fifty horsepower, he claimed.
"You can't tell me," I says, backin' away from the thing, "that nofifty horses could make that much noise, not even if they was crazy!The guy that brought that in here must have tied a lot of machine gunstogether with a fuse and Stupid there set 'em off when he turned thecrank!"
He runs around to the side where the Kid is and shuts down the gas andI seen half of Frisco lookin' in the door, figurin' the Japs had gotstarted at last, or else somebody was puttin' on a dress rehearsal ofthe Civil War.
"Ain't she a beauty?" screams I. Markowitz to the Kid, barely makin'himself heard over the din. "Give a listen how that motor turnsover--not a break or a miss and as smooth like glass! That's hittin'on six, all right!"
"I'm glad to hear that," I says. "I'm glad it's only six, because thething will have to quit pretty soon. There ain't no six nothin's couldstand up under that hittin' much longer!"
I. Markowitz steps on the runnin' board and holds on with both hands.He had to, because that motor had got the car doin' a muscle dance.
"Where d'ye want to go?" he yells to the Kid. "I'll have Herschel takeyou out so he should show you everything."
"Tell him to wash his face instead!" the Kid hollers back. "I don'tneed nobody to show me nothin' about a car. Come on!" he yells at me."All aboard for Film City!"
"Ha! Ha!" I sneers. "Rave on! I wouldn't get in that thing forRockefeller's bankroll!"
I had to holler at the top of my voice to drown out that motor.
"C'mon!" yells the Kid. "Don't be so yellah--you got everybody lookin'at you. She's all right now, and as soon as she gets warmed up she'llbe rollin' along in great shape!"
"Yes!" I says. "And so will I--in a day coach of the Sante Fe!"
Well, he coaxed, threatened and so-forthed me, until finally I took achance and climbed in beside him. The populace at the doors give threecheers and wished us good luck as we banged and rattled through theirmidst. We went on down the street, attractin' no more attention thanthe German army would in London, and every time we turned a new cornerpeople run out of their houses to see was there a parade comin'. Wepassed several sure enough automobiles and they sneered at us, and oneof them little flivvers got so upset by the noise that it blowed out atire as we went by. Finally, we come to the city line and the Kid sayshe figures it's about time to see can the thing travel. He monkeysaround them strange buttons on the steerin' wheel, pulls a handle hereand there and presses a lever with his foot. The minute he did that wegot action! That disappearin' cannon in the back went off three timesand I bet it blowed up all the buildin's in the block. There was ahorse and buggy passin' at the time and the guy that was drivin' itdon't know what happened yet, because at the first bang, that horsestarted for the old country and it must have been Lou Dillon--believeme, it could run! I looked back and watched it. A big cloud of smokerolls up from the back of the car, and I seen guys runnin' out ofstores and wavin' to us with their fists and then a couple of brave andbold motorcycle cops jumps on their fiery steeds and falls in behind.
I guess the ex-owner of this bus was on the level at that about doin'them forty-five thousand miles in a week, because this car could havebeat a telegram across the country, "when she got warmed up!" as I.Markowitz says. Every one of them six cylinders was in there tryingand when they worked together like little pals and forgot whateverprivate quarrels they had, the result was _speed_, believe me! The Kidwas hangin' on to the steerin' wheel and havin' the time of his younglife and I was hangin' on to the seat and wishin' I had listened tothat insurance agent in New York. We come to the top of a hill and aswe start down the other side the prize boob of the coun
ty is waterin'the pavement around his real estate. When he hears us, he drops thehose which makes it all wet in front of us.
"Hold tight!" screams the Kid to me. "We're gonna do a piece ofskiddin'. I forgot to get chains!"
Just about then we hit the damp spot and the Kid puts on the brakes.Sweet Cookie! You should have seen that car! It must have got sore atthe man with the hose and went crazy, because it made eight completeturns tryin' to get at him and the poor simp was too scared to run.Finally the thing gives it up and shoots down to the bottom of thehill. We hit a log and I hit the one-man top. Then the motor calls ita day and stops dead. The Kid hops out and walks around to the crank.He gives it a couple of turns and it turns right back at him. He grabsit again and it was short with a left hook to the jaw, and then the Kidshakes his head and takes off one side of the hood. He sticks his handdown inside and pulls out a little brown thing that looks like a cupwith a cover on it.
"No wonder she stopped!" he says, holdin' it up. "Look what I justfound in here."
I give it the once over.
"What d'ye think of that, eh?" he says. "It's a wonder she run at all!I'll bet that boob mechanic left that in there when he started us offat the garage." He throws the thing in a ditch and puts the hood on."Now," he says, "we're off for Film City!"
He grabs hold of the crank and gives it about eleven whirls, but thereain't a thing doin' and while we're stuck there like that, along comesa guy in another car.
"Can I help you fellows out?" he hollers.
"Yes!" I yells back. "Have you got a rope?"
He comes over and looks at the thing.
"What seems to be the trouble?" he asks the Kid.
"Nothin' in particular," the Kid tells him. "She's a great little caronly we can't get her goin'."
"Have you got gas?" asks the stranger.
"Plenty!" says the Kid. "D'ye think I would try to run a car withoutgasoline?"
"I don't know," says the other guy. "I never seen you before! Is yourspark all right?"
"A number one!" pipes the Kid.
"And she won't run?" he asks.
"She won't run!" we both says together.
"Hmph!" he snorts, scratchin' his head. He opens the hood and fussesaround on both sides for a minute and then he rubs the side of his nosewith his finger. He looks like he was up against a tough proposition.
"How far have you run this car?" he asks the Kid finally.
"All the way from Frisco," answers the Kid.
"Like this?" he says, pointin' to the motor.
"No!" I cuts in. "It was movin'."
"Why you couldn't have gone three feet with this car!" he busts outsuddenly. "I never seen nothin' like this before in my life!"
"Why don't you go out at nights, then?" growls the Kid, gettin' sore."Stop knockin' and tell us what's the matter with it."
"There ain't nothin' the matter with it," says the other guy with anodd little grin. "Not a thing--_only it ain't got no carburetor in it,that's all_!"
If he figured on creatin' a sensation on that remark--and from the wayhe said it, he did--he lost the bet. The Kid just gives him the babystare and shrugs his shoulders like it's past him.
"No which?" he says.
"Carburetor!" explains the native. "The little cup where your gasolinemixes with the air to start the motor."
The Kid claps his hands together and yells,
"That little crook back in Frisco must have held out on me!"
But I had been doin' some thinkin' and I looks the Kid in the eye,
"What does this carburetor thing look like?" I asks the other guy.
He describes it to me, and when he got all through I gives the Kidanother meanin' look and walks over to the ditch. After pawin' aroundin the mud for a while I found the little cup the Kid had throwed away.
"Is this it?" I asks the native.
"It is," he says. "What was it doin' over there?"
"It must have fell off!" answers the Kid quickly, kickin' at me to keepquiet.
Well, this guy finally fixes us up and about an hour later we hit thelittle road that leads into Film City, without havin' no furthermishaps except the noise from that motor. About half a mile from thegates I seen a familiar lookin' guy standin' in the middle of the roadand wavin' his hands at us.
"Slow up!" I says to the Kid. "Here's Genaro!"
The Kid reaches down to the side of his seat and yanks a handle thatwas stickin' up. It come right off in his hand and we kept right ongoin'.
"That's funny!" says the Kid, holdin' up the handle and lookin' at itlike it's the first one he ever seen. "We should have stopped rightaway--that's the emergency brake!"
He stamps on the floor with his foot a couple of times and shuts offthe gas. We drift right on, and, if Genaro had had rheumatism, hewould have been killed outright. As it was, he jumped aside just intime and the car comes to a stop of its own free will about twenty feetpast him down the road.
"What's a mat?" yells Genaro, rushin' up to us. "Why you no stoppa thecar when you see me?"
"Why don't they stop prohibition?" I hollers back at him. "We musthave lost the stopper off this one, we--"
But he runs around the other side to where the Kid is sitting examinin'all them handles and buttons.
"_Sapristi_!" he yells at the Kid. "Where you go, Meester Kid Scanlan?Everybody she's a look for you--Meester Potts he'sa want you rightaway! We starta firsta reel of your picture to-day. Everybody she'sagot to wait for you!"
"Keep your shirt on!" growls the Kid. "You told me this mornin' I hadlots of time, didn't you?"
Genaro grabs hold of a tree and does a little dance.
"Aha!" he remarks to the sky. "He'sa make me crazee! What you carewhat I tole you this a morning? Joosta now I want you queek! You makamucha talk with me while Meester Potts and everybody she'sa wait foryou!"
"Well," says the Kid. "Get in here and we'll go there right away."
Genaro climbs in the back of the car.
"Hurry up!" he says, holdin' his ears. "Anything so she'a stop thatterrible noise. Hurry up!"
"I'll do that little thing!" pipes the Kid--and we was off.
I climbed over the seat and in the back with Genaro so's he wouldn'tfeel lonesome, and, so's if the Kid hit anything, I'd have a littlemore percentage in my favor. Genaro seems to be sore about somethingand to make conversation I ask him what's the matter.
"Everything she's the matter!" he tells me, while the Kid keeps hisfoot on the gas and we bump and clatter along the road. "Everythingshe's the matter! I work all morning on lasta reel of 'The Escapes ofEva.' Got two hundred extra people stand around do nothing. DeVronde, the bigga bunk, he's a play lead with Miss Vincent." He stopsand kisses his hand at a tree we was passing "Ah!" he goes on. "She'safina girl! Some time maybe I ask her--pardone, I talka too fast!Lasta reel De Vronde he'sa get what you call lynched. They putta ropearound he'sa neck and he's a stand under bigga tree. Joosta as theypulla rope to keel him, Miss Vincent," he throws another kiss at atree. "Ah! sucha fina girl!" he whispers at me rollin' his eyes."Sometime I--pardone, everytime I forget! Miss Vincent she'sa comealong on horse and sava he'sa life--you see?"
"I got you!" I tells him. "Then what happens?"
"_Sapristi_!" he says. "That's all! What you want for five reels?But thisa morning, Meester Potts he'sa come up and watch. He'sapresident of company and knows much about money, but acting--bah! he'saknow nothing! Gotta three year old boy he'sa know more! He'sa standathere and smile and rub he'sa hands together lika barber while we takalasta reel. Everything she'sa fine till we come to place where DeVronde he'sa get lynch and Miss Vincent--ah!--she'sa come up on horseand sava him. Then Meester Potts he'sa rush over and stoppa thecameras. 'No!' he'sa yell. 'No, by Heaven, I won't stand for that!That's a rotten! You got to get difference ending froma that!'"
"What was the matter?" I asks him. "Didn't he want De Vronde saved?"
His shoulders does one of them
muscle dances.
"Ask me!" he says. "I couldn't tella you! He'sa know nothing aboutart! Joosta money--that's all. He'sa tella me girl saving leading manfrom lynch lika that is old as he'sa fren' Methuselah! He'sa wantsomething new for finish that picture--bran' new, he'sa holler or nopicture! All morning I worka, worka, worka, he'sa maka faces ateverything I do!"
"Well!" I says. "If you--"
I happened to look up just then and I seen the well known gates of FilmCity about a hundred yards away, and if we was makin' a mile an hour,we was makin' fifty. I leaned over and tapped the Kid on the shoulder.
"Don't you think you had better slow up a trifle?" I asks him.
"I don't _think_ nothin' about it!" he throws over his shoulder. "I_know_ it! I been tryin' to stop this thing for the last fifteenminutes and there's nothin' doin'!"
"Throw her in reverse!" I screams, as them great big iron gates loomsup over the front mud guards.
"I can't!" he shouts. "The darned thing's stuck in high and I can'tbudge it!"
One of them gates was open and the Kid steers for it, while I closed myeyes and give myself over to prayer. We shot through leavin' one lamp,both mudguards and a runnin' board behind.
"Hey!" yells Genaro. "What's a mat? Thisa too fasta for me! Stoppathe car before something she'sa happen!"
"Somethin' she'sa gonna happen right now!" I says. "Be seated!"
The Kid swings around a corner and everybody in Film City is eitherlookin', runnin' or yellin' after us. I often wondered what a wideberth meant, and I found out that afternoon. That's what everybody inthe place give us when we come through there hittin' on six as I.Markowitz would remark. A guy made up like a Indian chief jumpedbehind a tree and we only missed him by dumb luck.
"Hey!" he yells after us. "Are you fellows crazy? Look out for theMoorish Castle!"
I yelled back that we wouldn't miss nothin' of interest, if we couldhelp it and the gas held out, and just then I got a flash at theMoorish Castle. It had been built the day before for a big five reelthriller that Genaro was gonna produce and I understand he was verypartial to it. As soon as he sees it he jumps up in the back of thecar and slaps the Kid on the shoulders.
"Hey, crazee man!" he hollers. "Stoppa the car, I, Genaro, command it!Don't toucha my castle!" his voice goes off in a shriek."_Sapristi_!--I--"
That was all he said just then, because we went through the MoorishCastle like a cyclone through Kansas, and as we come out on the otherside the whole thing tumbled down, bringin' with it a couple of Chinesepagodas that had just come from the paint shop. All we lost was halfof the radiator and the windshield. The Kid pulls a kind of a sickgrin and licks his lips.
"Some car, eh?" he says, takin' a fresh grip on the steerin' wheel.
I missed Genaro and lookin' back through the dust I seen him drapedover a fence with his head touchin' the ground and his feet up in theair. A lot of daredevils was runnin' towards us and yellin' murder.
"Where's Genaro?" asks the Kid, as we miss a tree by a half inch.
I shivered and told him.
"The big quitter!" snarls the Kid. "Left us flat the minute somethin'happened, eh? I always knew that guy was yellah!"
We shot across the African Desert and comin' around another turn webust right into "The Escapes of Eva." There's about two hundred supersdressed like cowboys and Duke, Genaro's assistant, is up on a littleplatform with the Big Boss Potts, directin' the thing. De Vronde isunder a tree with a rope around his neck and another one that don'tshow in the picture under his arms so's he can be pulled up and it willlook like he was bein' lynched. A little ways up the road is MissVincent on a horse, ready to make her dash to save De Vronde's life.
As all this comes into view, the Kid swings around on me and shovessomethin' big and round in my face.
"Now!" he hollers. "We're up against it for real! The steerin' wheelcome off!"
I pushed open the door on the side and stood on the runnin' board.
"Let me know how you make out!" I yells. "I got enough!"
With that I jumps.
Just as I hit the ground, I hear Duke yellin' through a megaphone.
"C'mon, now--gimme action! Hey! Get two of those cameras at an angle.When I say 'Shoot!' you, Nelson, and Hardy pull that rope so De Vrondeswings about five feet clear of the ground! Be sure the rope is underhis arms, too! Hey, you extra people--a little ginger there! This isa lynching not a spelling bee! Dance around some--yell! That's it.Now, all ready?" He blows the whistle. "Shoot!" he yells, "and gimmeall you got!"
Well, the Kid did what he could--he blowed the little trick horn on theside of the car about a second before he shot into the mob. Thembloodthirsty outlaws just melted away before him, and them that wasslow-witted was picked up and tossed to one side before they knowedwhat hit 'em. They's a big stone wall at the other side of the treeand that's where the Kid was headed for. Just as he sails under DeVronde, who's hangin' from the rope over his head, the Kid sees thewall, grabs De Vronde by the legs and hangs there, lettin' that crazy,six cylinder A. G. F. proceed without him. De Vronde and the Kidcrashes to the ground and the car dashed its brains out against thewall.
While great excitement is bein' had by all, Duke jumps from theplatform to tell the camera men to cease firin' and a handful of actorsruns over to jimmy the Kid and De Vronde apart. I thought this Dukeguy was gonna explode, on the level it was two minutes before he couldspeak.
"What d'ye mean, you ivory-headed simp?" he screams at the Kid,finally. "What d'ye mean by that? You've ruined a hundred feet offilm, you--"
I hear somebody puffin' along beside me as I come runnin' up and I seeit's Potts. He's red in the face and mumblin' somethin' to himself ashe waddles along. I felt real sorry for the Kid--car and job, bothgone! Potts rushes up and grabs Duke by the shoulder.
"There!" he yells, pointin' to the Kid. "There stands a man that knowsmore about the picture game than the whole infernal lot of you!_That's the kind of a finish I've been trying to get for this pictureall morning_!"
