The Oakdale Affair [26]
his former home, and that the scream had sprung from the ghostly lungs of his slain wife or daughter.
"I wouldn't spend anudder night in this dump," he concluded, "for both them pockets full of swag The Oskaloosa Kid's packin' around."
Immediately all eyes turned upon the flushing youth. The girl and Bridge could not prevent their own gazes from wandering to the bulging coat pockets, the owner of which moved uneasily, at last shooting a look of defi- ance, not unmixed with pleading, at Bridge.
"He's a bad one," interjected Dopey Charlie, a glint of cunning in his ordinarily glassy eyes. "He flashes a couple o' mitsful of sparklers, chesty-like, and allows as how he's a regular burglar. Then he pulls a gun on me, as wasn't doin' nothin' to him, and 'most croaks me. It's even money that if anyone's been croaked in Oakdale last night they won't have to look far for the guy that done it. Least-wise they won't have to look far if he doesn't come across," and Dopey Charlie looked mean- ingly and steadily at the side pockets of The Oskaloosa Kid.
"I think," said Bridge, after a moment of general si- lence, "that you two crooks had better beat it. Do you get me?" and he looked from Dopey Charlie to The Gen- eral and back again.
"We don't go," said Dopey Charlie, belligerently, "un- til we gets half the Kid's swag."
"You go now," said Bridge, "without anybody's swag," and he drew the boy's automatic from his side pocket. "You go now and you go quick--beat it!"
The two rose and shuffled toward the door. "We'll get you, you colledge Lizzy," threatened Dopey Charlie, "an' we'll get that phoney punk, too."
"'And speed the parting guest,'" quoted Bridge, firing a shot that splintered the floor at the crook's feet. When the two hoboes had departed the others huddled again close to the stove until Bridge suggested that he and The Oskaloosa Kid retire to another room while the girl removed and dried her clothing; but she insisted that it was not wet enough to matter since she had been covered by a robe in the automobile until just a moment before she had been hurled out.
"Then, after you are warmed up," said Bridge, "you can step into this other room while the kid and I strip and dry our things, for there's no question but that we are wet enough."
At the suggestion the kid started for the door. "Oh, no," he insisted; "it isn't worth while. I am almost dry now, and as soon as we get out on the road I'll be all right. I--I--I like wet clothes," he ended, lamely.
Bridge looked at him questioningly; but did not urge the matter. "Very well," he said; "you probably know what you like; but as for me, I'm going to pull off every rag and get good and dry."
The girl had already quitted the room and now The Kid turned and followed her. Bridge shook his head. "I'll bet the little beggar never was away from his mother before in his life," he mused; "why the mere thought of undressing in front of a strange man made him turn red--and posing as The Oskaloosa Kid! Bless my soul; but he's a humorist--a regular, natural born one."
Bridge found that his clothing had dried to some ex- tent during the night; so, after a brisk rub, he put on the warmed garments and though some were still a trifle damp he felt infinitely more comfortable than he had for many hours.
Outside the house he came upon the girl and the youth standing in the sunshine of a bright, new day. They were talking together in a most animated man- ner, and as he approached wondering what the two had found of so great common interest he discovered that the discussion hinged upon the relative merits of ham and bacon as a breakfast dish.
"Oh, my heart it is just achin'," quoted Bridge,
"For a little bite of bacon,
"A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew;
"I'm tired of seein' scenery,
"Just lead me to a beanery
"Where there's something more than only air to
chew."
The two looked up, smiling. "You're a funny kind of tramp, to be quoting poetry," said The Oskaloosa Kid, "even if it is Knibbs'."
"Almost
"I wouldn't spend anudder night in this dump," he concluded, "for both them pockets full of swag The Oskaloosa Kid's packin' around."
Immediately all eyes turned upon the flushing youth. The girl and Bridge could not prevent their own gazes from wandering to the bulging coat pockets, the owner of which moved uneasily, at last shooting a look of defi- ance, not unmixed with pleading, at Bridge.
"He's a bad one," interjected Dopey Charlie, a glint of cunning in his ordinarily glassy eyes. "He flashes a couple o' mitsful of sparklers, chesty-like, and allows as how he's a regular burglar. Then he pulls a gun on me, as wasn't doin' nothin' to him, and 'most croaks me. It's even money that if anyone's been croaked in Oakdale last night they won't have to look far for the guy that done it. Least-wise they won't have to look far if he doesn't come across," and Dopey Charlie looked mean- ingly and steadily at the side pockets of The Oskaloosa Kid.
"I think," said Bridge, after a moment of general si- lence, "that you two crooks had better beat it. Do you get me?" and he looked from Dopey Charlie to The Gen- eral and back again.
"We don't go," said Dopey Charlie, belligerently, "un- til we gets half the Kid's swag."
"You go now," said Bridge, "without anybody's swag," and he drew the boy's automatic from his side pocket. "You go now and you go quick--beat it!"
The two rose and shuffled toward the door. "We'll get you, you colledge Lizzy," threatened Dopey Charlie, "an' we'll get that phoney punk, too."
"'And speed the parting guest,'" quoted Bridge, firing a shot that splintered the floor at the crook's feet. When the two hoboes had departed the others huddled again close to the stove until Bridge suggested that he and The Oskaloosa Kid retire to another room while the girl removed and dried her clothing; but she insisted that it was not wet enough to matter since she had been covered by a robe in the automobile until just a moment before she had been hurled out.
"Then, after you are warmed up," said Bridge, "you can step into this other room while the kid and I strip and dry our things, for there's no question but that we are wet enough."
At the suggestion the kid started for the door. "Oh, no," he insisted; "it isn't worth while. I am almost dry now, and as soon as we get out on the road I'll be all right. I--I--I like wet clothes," he ended, lamely.
Bridge looked at him questioningly; but did not urge the matter. "Very well," he said; "you probably know what you like; but as for me, I'm going to pull off every rag and get good and dry."
The girl had already quitted the room and now The Kid turned and followed her. Bridge shook his head. "I'll bet the little beggar never was away from his mother before in his life," he mused; "why the mere thought of undressing in front of a strange man made him turn red--and posing as The Oskaloosa Kid! Bless my soul; but he's a humorist--a regular, natural born one."
Bridge found that his clothing had dried to some ex- tent during the night; so, after a brisk rub, he put on the warmed garments and though some were still a trifle damp he felt infinitely more comfortable than he had for many hours.
Outside the house he came upon the girl and the youth standing in the sunshine of a bright, new day. They were talking together in a most animated man- ner, and as he approached wondering what the two had found of so great common interest he discovered that the discussion hinged upon the relative merits of ham and bacon as a breakfast dish.
"Oh, my heart it is just achin'," quoted Bridge,
"For a little bite of bacon,
"A hunk of bread, a little mug of brew;
"I'm tired of seein' scenery,
"Just lead me to a beanery
"Where there's something more than only air to
chew."
The two looked up, smiling. "You're a funny kind of tramp, to be quoting poetry," said The Oskaloosa Kid, "even if it is Knibbs'."
"Almost