Just as
he was about to pronounce the last sad rites a hurdy-gurdy started
playing 'Don't Get Married Any More, Ma,' with variations. Well, it made
Mamie so nervous. You know she always was a hysterical creature. It made
her so nervous that she had to have Wilbur--that's her husband--go out
and put a bug on the Ginny before she would allow the flag to drop. Then
we went out and had our wedding breakfast. There were six or eight in
the crowd, I don't rightly remember which, for sometimes there would be
only a few and then again it would be a turbid throng.
"A couple of whisky sales gentlemen joined our little gathering and
proposed a race. You know I do so love athletic sports. I don't mean
prize fighters or ball players, but feats of strength. The whisky
gentlemen had a little the best start, for they had been running trial
heats. The way we staged that drinking number was a crime. How we ended
up I care not, neither do I spin. I can merely state that Mamie and I
slid for home in a sea-going taxicab, leaving Wilbur saying things to
the head waiter that no lady would listen to.
"Oh, say, are you here with any extra junk? No, this ain't no touch. But
if you have got a reckless bundle I know how you can double it in a few
weeks. A gentleman friend of mine was captain of a fake wire-tapping
game until he got put out of business by the hard times and the lack of
suckers--synonymous. He is selling stock of a proposition that has
anything from Goldfield chased back to the desert.
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