He got
the tip last night, but that won't help you any. You needn't think
there's any chance of your getting a peep at it. Why, tickets is two
hundred and fifty apiece!"
"Whew!" whistled Gallegher, "where's it to be?"
"In the barn," whispered Keppler. "I helped 'em fix the ropes this
morning, I did."
"Gosh, but you're in luck," exclaimed Gallegher, with flattering envy.
"Couldn't I jest get a peep at it?"
"Maybe," said the gratified Keppler. "There's a winder with a wooden
shutter at the back of the barn. You can get in by it, if you have
some one to boost you up to the sill."
"Sa-a-y," drawled Gallegher, as if something had but just that moment
reminded him. "Who's that gent who come down the road just a bit ahead
of me--him with the cape-coat! Has he got anything to do with the
fight?"
"Him?" repeated Keppler in tones of sincere disgust. "No-oh, he ain't
no sport. He's queer, Dad thinks. He come here one day last week about
ten in the morning, said his doctor told him to go out 'en the country
for his health. He's stuck up and citified, and wears gloves, and
takes his meals private in his room, and all that sort of ruck. They
was saying in the saloon last night that they thought he was hiding
from something, and Dad, just to try him, asks him last night if he
was coming to see the fight.
Pages:
1
2
3
4
5
6
7
8
9
10
11
12
13
14
15
16
17
18
19
20
21
22
23
24
25