tobe told it would chronicle the fact that a very nervous and frightenedburglar sneaked along the quiet and peaceful country road outside ofOakdale. A lonesome burglar, this, who so craved the companionship ofman that he would almost have welcomed joyously the detaining hand ofthe law had it fallen upon him in the guise of a flesh and blood policeofficer from Oakdale.
In leaving the city the youth had given little thought to thepracticalities of the open road. He had thought, rather vaguely, ofsleeping in a bed of new clover in some hospitable fence corner; butthe fence corners looked very dark and the wide expanse of fields beyondsuggested a mysterious country which might be peopled by almost anythingbut human beings.
At a farm house the youth hesitated and was almost upon the verge ofentering and asking for a night's lodging when a savage voiced dogshattered the peace of the universe and sent the burglar along the roadat a rapid run.
A half mile further on a straw stack loomed large within a fencedenclosure. The youth wormed his way between the barbed wires determinedat last to let nothing prevent him from making a cozy bed in the deepstraw beside the stack. With courage radiating from every pore he strodetoward the stack. His walk was almost a swagger, for thus does youthdissemble the bravery it yearns for but does not possess. He almostwhistled again; but not quite, since it seemed an unnecessaryprovocation to disaster to call particular attention to himself at thistime. An instant later he was extremely glad that he had refrained, foras he approached the stack a huge bulk slowly loomed from behind it;and silhouetted against the moonlit sky he saw the vast proportions of agreat, shaggy bull. The burglar tore the inside of one trousers' leg andthe back of his coat in his haste to pass through the barbed wire fenceonto the open road. There he paused to mop the perspiration from hisforehead, though the night was now far from warm.
For another mile the now tired and discouraged house-breaker plodded,heavy footed, the unending road. Did vain compunction stir hisyouthful breast? Did he regret the safe respectability of the plumber'sapprentice? Or, if he had not been a plumber's apprentice did he yearnto once again assume the unharried peace of whatever legitimate callinghad been his before he bent his steps upon the broad boulevard of sin?We think he did.
And then he saw through the chinks and apertures in the half ruined wallof what had once been a hay barn the rosy flare of a genial light whichappeared to announce in all but human terms that man, red blooded andhospitable, forgathered within. No growling dogs, no bulking bullscontested the short stretch of weed grown ground between the road andthe disintegrating structure; and presently two wide, brown eyes werepeering through a crack in the wall of the abandoned building. What theysaw was a small fire built upon the earth floor in the center of thebuilding and around the warming blaze the figures of six men. Somereclined at length upon old straw; others squatted, Turk fashion. Allwere smoking either disreputable pipes or rolled cigarets. Blear-eyedand foxy-eyed, bearded and stubbled cheeked, young and old, were the menthe youth looked upon. All were more or less dishevelled and filthy; butthey were human. They were not dogs, or bulls, or croaking frogs. Theboy's heart went out to them. Something that was almost a sob rose inhis throat, and then he turned the corner of the building and stood inthe doorway, the light from the fire playing upon his lithe young figureclothed in its torn and ill fitting suit and upon his oval face and hislaughing brown eyes. For several seconds he stood there looking at themen around the fire. None of them had noticed him.
"Tramps!" thought the youth. "Regular tramps." He wondered that they hadnot seen him, and then, clearing his throat, he said: "Hello, tramps!"
Six heads snapped up or around. Six pairs of eyes, blear or foxy,were riveted upon the boyish figure of the housebreaker. "Wotinel!"ejaculated a frowzy gentleman in a frock coat and golf cap. "Wheredjublow from?" inquired another. "'Hello, tramps'!" mimicked a third.
The youth came slowly toward the fire. "I saw your fire," he said, "andI thought I'd stop. I'm a tramp, too, you know."
"Oh," sighed the elderly person in the frock coat. "He's a tramp, he is.An' does he think gents like us has any time for tramps? An' where mighthe be trampin', sonny, without his maw?"
The youth flushed. "Oh say!" he cried; "you needn't kid me just becauseI'm new at it. You all had to start sometime. I've always longed forthe free life of a tramp; and if you'll let me go along with you for alittle while, and teach me, I'll not bother you; and I'll do whateveryou say."
The elderly person frowned. "Beat it, kid!" he commanded. "We ain'trunnin' no day nursery. These you see here is all the real thing. Maybewe asks fer a handout now and then; but that ain't our reg'lar way. Youain't swift enough to travel with this bunch, kid, so you'd better duck.Why we gents, here, if we was added up is wanted in about twenty-sevencities fer about everything from rollin' a souse to crackin' a box andcroakin' a bull. You gotta do something before you can train wid gentslike us, see?" The speaker projected a stubbled jaw, scowled horridlyand swept a flattened palm downward and backward at a right angle to ahairy arm in eloquent gesture of finality.
The boy had stood with his straight, black eyebrows puckered into astudious frown, drinking in every word. Now he straightened up. "I guessI made a mistake," he said, apologetically. "You ain't tramps at all.You're thieves and murderers and things like that." His eyes opened abit wider and his voice sank to a whisper as the words passed his lips."But you haven't so much on me, at that," he went on, "for I'm a regularburglar, too," and from the bulging pockets of his coat he drew twohandfuls of greenbacks and jewelry. The eyes of the six registeredastonishment, mixed with craft and greed. "I just robbed a house inOakdale," explained the boy. "I usually rob one every night."
For a moment his auditors were too surprised to voice a single emotion;but presently one murmured, soulfully: "Pipe de swag!" He of the frockcoat, golf cap, and years waved a conciliatory hand. He tried to look atthe boy's face; but for the life of him he couldn't raise his eyes abovethe dazzling wealth clutched in the fingers of those two small,slim hands. From one dangled a pearl necklace which alone might haveransomed, if not a king, at least a lesser member of a royal family,while diamonds, rubies, sapphires, and emeralds scintillated in theflaring light of the fire. Nor was the fistful of currency in the otherhand to be sneezed at. There were greenbacks, it is true; but there werealso yellowbacks with the reddish gold of large denominations. The SkyPilot sighed a sigh that was more than half gasp.
"Can't yuh take a kid?" he inquired. "I knew youse all along. Yuh can'tfool an old bird like The Sky Pilot--eh, boys?" and he turned to hiscomrades for confirmation.
"He's The Oskaloosa Kid," exclaimed one of the company. "I'd know 'imanywheres."
"Pull up and set down," invited another.
The boy stuffed his loot back into his pockets and came closer to thefire. Its warmth felt most comfortable, for the Spring night was growingchill. He looked about him at the motley company, some half-spruce inclothing that suggested a Kuppenmarx label and a not too far associationwith a tailor's goose, others in rags, all but one unshaven and allmore or less dirty--for the open road is close to Nature, which isprincipally dirt.
"Shake hands with Dopey Charlie," said The Sky Pilot, whose age andcorpulency appeared to stamp him with the hall mark of authority. Theyouth did as he was bid, smiling into the sullen, chalk-white face andtaking the clammy hand extended toward him. Was it a shudder thatpassed through the lithe, young figure or was it merely a subconsciousrecognition of the final passing of the bodily cold before the glowingwarmth of the blaze? "And Soup Face," continued The Sky Pilot. A batteredwreck half rose and extended a pudgy hand. Red whiskers, matted inlittle tangled wisps which suggested the dried ingredients of aninfinite procession of semi-liquid refreshments, rioted promiscuouslyover a scarlet countenance.
"Pleased to meetcha," sprayed Soup Face. It was a strained smilewhich twisted the rather too perfect mouth of The Oskaloosa Kid, anappellation which we must, perforce, accept since the youth did not denyit.
Columbus Blackie, The General, and D
irty Eddie were formally presented.As Dirty Eddie was, physically, the cleanest member of the band theyouth wondered how he had come by his sobriquet--that is, he wondereduntil he heard Dirty Eddie speak, after which he was no longer in doubt.The Oskaloosa Kid, self-confessed 'tramp' and burglar, flushed at thelurid obscenity of Dirty Eddie's remarks.
"Sit down, bo," invited Soup Face. "I guess you're a regular all right.Here, have a snifter?" and he pulled a flask from his side pocket,holding it toward The Oskaloosa Kid.
"Thank you, but;--er--I'm
The Oakdale Affair Page 2
