Ruggles of Red Gap — Chapter 3 Part 2

“I wouldn’t have had this happen for anything,” said Cousin Egbert, indicating me.

“Lucky I got that knife away from him,” said the other.

To this I thought it best to remain silent, it being plain that the men were both well along, so to say.

The cab now approached an open square from which issued discordant blasts of music.

One glance showed it to be a street fair.

I prayed that we might pass it, but my companions hailed it with delight and at once halted the cabby.

“Ally caffy on the corner,” directed the Tuttle person, and once more we were seated at an iron table with whiskey and soda ordered.

Before us was the street fair in all its silly activity.

There were many tinselled booths at which games of chance or marksmanship were played, or at which articles of ornament or household decoration were displayed for sale, and about these were throngs of low-class French idling away their afternoon in that mad pursuit of pleasure which is so characteristic of this race.

In the centre of the place was a carrousel from which came the blare of a steam orchestrion playing the “Marseillaise,” one of their popular songs.

From where I sat I could perceive the circle of gaudily painted beasts that revolved about this musical atrocity.

A fashion of horses seemed to predominate, but there was also an ostrich (a bearded Frenchman being astride this bird for the moment), a zebra, a lion, and a gaudily emblazoned giraffe.

I

shuddered as I thought of the evil possibilities that might be suggested to my two companions by this affair.

For the moment I was pleased to note that they had forgotten my supposed indisposition, yet another equally absurd complication ensued when the drink arrived.

“Say, don’t your friend ever loosen up?

” asked the Tuttle person of Cousin Egbert.

“Tighter than Dick’s hatband,” replied the latter.

“And then some!

He ain’t bought once.

Say, Bo,” he continued to me as I was striving to divine the drift of these comments, “have I got my fingers crossed or not?

” Seeing that he held one hand behind him I thought to humour him by saying, “I fancy so, sir.

” “He means ‘yes,’” said Cousin Egbert.

The other held his hand before me with the first two fingers spread wide apart.

“You lost,” he said.

“How’s that, Sour-dough?

We stuck him the first rattle out of the box.

” “Good work,” said Cousin Egbert.

“You’re stuck for this round,” he added to me.

“Three rousing cheers!

” I readily perceived that they meant me to pay the score, which I accordingly did, though I at once suspected the fairness of the game.

I mean to say, if my opponent had been a trickster he could easily have rearranged his fingers to defeat me before displaying them.

I do not say it was done in this instance.

I am merely pointing out that it left open a way to trickery.

I mean to say, one would wish to be assured of his opponent’s social standing before playing this game extensively.

No sooner had we finished the drink than the Tuttle person said to me: “I’ll give you one chance to get even.

I’ll guess your fingers this time.

” Accordingly I put one hand behind me and firmly crossed the fingers, fancying that he would guess them to be uncrossed.

Instead of which he called out “Crossed,” and I was obliged to show them in that wise, though, as before pointed out, I could easily have defeated him by uncrossing them before revealing my hand.

I mean to say, it is not on the face of it a game one would care to play with casual acquaintances, and I questioned even then in my own mind its prevalence in the States.

(As a matter of fact, I may say that in my later life in the States I could find no trace of it, and now believe it to have been a pure invention on the part of the Tuttle person.

I

mean to say, I later became convinced that it was, properly speaking, not a game at all.

) Again they were hugely delighted at my loss and rapped smartly on the table for more drink, and now to my embarrassment I discovered that I lacked the money to pay for this “round” as they would call it.

“Beg pardon, sir,” said I discreetly to Cousin Egbert, “but if you could let me have a bit of change, a half-crown or so----” To my surprise he regarded me coldly and shook his head emphatically in the negative.

“Not me,” he said; “I’ve been had too often.

You’re a good smooth talker and you may be all right, but I can’t take a chance at my time of life.

” “What’s he want now?

” asked the other.

“The old story,” said Cousin Egbert: “come off and left his purse on the hatrack or out in the woodshed some place.

” This was the height of absurdity, for I had said nothing of the sort.

“I was looking for something like that,” said the other “I never make a mistake in faces.

You got a watch there haven’t you?

” “Yes, sir,” I said, and laid on the table my silver English half-hunter with Albert.

They both fell to examining this with interest, and presently the Tuttle person spoke up excitedly: “Well, darn my skin if he ain’t got a genuine double Gazottz.

How did you come by this, my man?

” he demanded sharply.

“It came from my brother-in-law, sir,” I explained, “six years ago as security for a trifling loan.

” “He sounds honest enough,” said the Tuttle person to Cousin Egbert.

“Yes, but maybe it ain’t a regular double Gazottz,” said the latter.

“The market is flooded with imitations.

” “No, sir, I can’t be fooled on them boys,” insisted the other.

“Blindfold me and I could pick a double Gazottz out every time.

I’m going to take a chance on it, anyway.

” Whereupon the fellow pocketed my watch and from his wallet passed me a note of the so-called French money which I was astounded to observe was for the equivalent of four pounds, or one hundred francs, as the French will have it.

“I’ll advance that much on it,” he said, “but don’t ask for another cent until I’ve had it thoroughly gone over by a plumber.

It may have moths in it.

” It seemed to me that the chap was quite off his head, for the watch was worth not more than ten shillings at the most, though what a double Gazottz might be I could not guess.

However, I saw it would be wise to appear to accept the loan, and tendered the note in payment of the score.

When I had secured the change I sought to intimate that we should be leaving.

I thought even the street fair would be better for us than this rapid consumption of stimulants.

“I bet he’d go without buying,” said Cousin Egbert.

“No, he wouldn’t,” said the other.

“He knows what’s customary in a case like this.

He’s just a little embarrassed.

Wait and see if I ain’t right.

” At which they both sat and stared at me in silence for some moments until at last I ordered more drink, as I saw was expected of me.

“He wants the cabman to have one with him,” said Cousin Egbert, whereat the other not only beckoned our cabby to join us, but called to two labourers who were passing, and also induced the waiter who served us to join in the “round.

” “He seems to have a lot of tough friends,” said Cousin Egbert as we all drank, though he well knew I had extended none of these invitations.

“Acts like a drunken sailor soon as he gets a little money,” said the other.

“Three rousing cheers!

” replied Cousin Egbert, and to my great chagrin he leaped to his feet, seized one of the navvies about the waist, and there on the public pavement did a crude dance with him to the strain of the “Marseillaise” from the steam orchestrion.

Not only this, but when the music had ceased he traded hats with the navvy, securing a most shocking affair in place of the new one, and as they parted he presented the fellow with the gloves and stick I had purchased for him that very morning.

As I stared aghast at this _faux pas_ the navvy, with his new hat at an angle and twirling the stick, proceeded down the street with mincing steps and exaggerated airs of gentility, to the applause of the entire crowd, including Cousin Egbert.

“This ain’t quite the hat I want,” he said as he returned to us, “but the day is young.

I’ll have other chances,” and with the help of the public-house window as a mirror he adjusted the unmentionable thing with affectations of great nicety.

“He always was a dressy old scoundrel,” remarked the Tuttle person.

And then, as the music came to us once more, he continued: “Say, Sour-dough, let’s go over to the rodeo--they got some likely looking broncs over there.

” Arm in arm, accordingly, they crossed the street and proceeded to the carrousel, first warning the cabby and myself to stay by them lest harm should come to us.

What now ensued was perhaps their most remarkable behaviour at the day.

At the time I could account for it only by the liquor they had consumed, but later experience in the States convinced me that they were at times consciously spoofing.

I

mean to say, it was quite too absurd--their seriously believing what they seemed to believe.

The carrousel being at rest when we approached, they gravely examined each one of the painted wooden effigies, looking into such of the mouths as were open, and cautiously feeling the forelegs of the different mounts, keeping up an elaborate pretence the while that the beasts were real and that they were in danger of being kicked.

One absurdly painted horse they agreed would be the most difficult to ride.

Examining his mouth, they disputed as to his age, and called the cabby to have his opinion of the thing’s fetlocks, warning each other to beware of his rearing.

The cabby, who was doubtless also intoxicated, made an equal pretence of the beast’s realness, and indulged, I gathered, in various criticisms of its legs at great length.

“I think he’s right,” remarked the Tuttle person when the cabby had finished.

“It’s a bad case of splints.

The leg would be blistered if I had him.

” “I wouldn’t give him corral room,” said Cousin Egbert.

“He’s a bad actor.

Look at his eye!

Whoa!

there--you would, would you!

” Here he made a pretence that the beast had seized him by the shoulder.

“He’s a man-eater!

What did I tell you?

Keep him away!

” “I’ll take that out of him,” said the Tuttle person.

“I’ll show him who’s his master.

” “You ain’t never going to try to ride him, Jeff?

Think of the wife and little ones!

” “You know me, Sour-dough.

No horse never stepped out from under me yet.

I’ll not only ride him, but I’ll put a silver dollar in each stirrup and give you a thousand for each one I lose and a thousand for every time I touch leather.

” Cousin Egbert here began to plead tearfully: “Don’t do it, Jeff--come on around here.

There’s a big five-year-old roan around here that will be safe as a church for you.

Let that pinto alone.

They ought to be arrested for having him here.

” But the other seemed obdurate.

“Start her up, Professor, when I give the word!

” he called to the proprietor, and handed him one of the French banknotes.

“Play it all out!

” he directed, as this person gasped with amazement.

Cousin Egbert then proceeded to the head of the beast.

“You’ll have to blind him,” he said.

“Sure!

” replied the other, and with loud and profane cries to the animal they bound a handkerchief about his eyes.

“I can tell he’s going to be a twister,” warned Cousin Egbert.

“I better ear him,” and to my increased amazement he took one of the beast’s leather ears between his teeth and held it tightly.

Then with soothing words to the supposedly dangerous animal, the Tuttle person mounted him.

“Let him go!

” he called to Cousin Egbert, who released the ear from between his teeth.

“Wait!

” called the latter.

“We’re all going with you,” whereupon he insisted that the cabby and I should enter a sort of swan-boat directly in the rear.

I felt a silly fool, but I saw there was nothing else to be done.

Cousin Egbert himself mounted a horse he had called a “blue roan,” waved his hand to the proprietor, who switched a lever, the “Marseillaise” blared forth, and the platform began to revolve.

As we moved, the Tuttle person whisked the handkerchief from off the eyes of his mount and with loud, shrill cries began to beat the sides of its head with his soft hat, bobbing about in his saddle, moreover, as if the beast were most unruly and like to dismount him.

Cousin Egbert joined in the yelling, I am sorry to say, and lashed his beast as if he would overtake his companion.

The cabman also became excited and shouted his utmost, apparently in the way of encouragement.

Strange to say, I presume on account of the motion, I felt the thing was becoming infectious and was absurdly moved to join in the shouts, restraining myself with difficulty.

I could distinctly imagine we were in the hunting field and riding the tails off the hounds, as one might say.

In view of what was later most unjustly alleged of me, I think it as well to record now that, though I had partaken freely of the stimulants since our meeting with the Tuttle person, I was not intoxicated, nor until this moment had I felt even the slightest elation.

Now, however, I did begin to feel conscious of a mild exhilaration, and to be aware that I was viewing the behaviour of my companions with a sort of superior but amused tolerance.

I can account for this only by supposing that the swift revolutions of the carrousel had in some occult manner intensified or consummated, as one might say, the effect of my previous potations.

I mean to say, the continued swirling about gave me a frothy feeling that was not unpleasant.

As the contrivance came to rest, Cousin Egbert ran to the Tuttle person, who had dismounted, and warmly shook his hand, as did the cabby.

“I certainly thought he had you there once, Jeff,” said Cousin Egbert.

“Of all the twisters I ever saw, that outlaw is the worst.

” “Wanted to roll me,” said the other, “but I learned him something.

” It may not be credited, but at this moment I found myself examining the beast and saying: “He’s crocked himself up, sir--he’s gone tender at the heel.

” I knew perfectly, it must be understood, that this was silly, and yet I further added, “I fancy he’s picked up a stone.

” I mean to say, it was the most utter rot, pretending seriously that way.

“You come away,” said Cousin Egbert.

“Next thing you’ll be thinking you can ride him yourself.

” I did in truth experience an earnest craving for more of the revolutions and said as much, adding that I rode at twelve stone.

“Let him break his neck if he wants to,” urged the Tuttle person.

“It wouldn’t be right,” replied Cousin Egbert, “not in his condition.

Let’s see if we can’t find something gentle for him.

Not the roan--I found she ain’t bridle-wise.

How about that pheasant?

” “It’s an ostrich, sir,” I corrected him, as indeed it most distinctly was, though at my words they both indulged in loud laughter, affecting to consider that I had misnamed the creature.

“Ostrich!

” they shouted.

“Poor old Bill--he thinks it’s an ostrich!

” “Quite so, sir,” I said, pleasantly but firmly, determining not to be hoaxed again.

“Don’t drivel that way,” said the Tuttle person.

“Leave it to the driver, Jeff--maybe he’ll believe _him_,” said Cousin Egbert almost sadly, whereupon the other addressed the cabby: “Hey, Frank,” he began, and continued with some French words, among which I caught “vooley-vous, ally caffy, foomer”; and something that sounded much like “kafoozleum,” at which the cabby spoke at some length in his native language concerning the ostrich.

When he had done, the Tuttle person turned to me with a superior frown.

“Now I guess you’re satisfied,” he remarked.

“You heard what Frank said--it’s an Arabian muffin bird.

” Of course I was perfectly certain that the chap had said nothing of the sort, but I resolved to enter into the spirit of the thing, so I merely said: “Yes, sir; my error;

it was only at first glance that it seemed to be an ostrich.

” “Come along,” said Cousin Egbert.

“I won’t let him ride anything he can’t guess the name of.

It wouldn’t be right to his folks.

” “Well, what’s that, then?

” demanded the other, pointing full at the giraffe.

“It’s a bally ant-eater, sir,” I replied, divining that I should be wise not to seem too obvious in naming the beast.

“Well, well, so it is!

” exclaimed the Tuttle person delightedly.

“He’s got the eye with him this time,” said Cousin Egbert admiringly.

“He’s sure a wonder,” said the other.

“That thing had me fooled; I thought at first it was a Russian mouse hound.

” “Well, let him ride it, then,” said Cousin Egbert, and I was practically lifted into the saddle by the pair of them.

“One moment,” said Cousin Egbert.

“Can’t you see the poor thing has a sore throat?

Wait till I fix him.

” And forthwith he removed his spats and in another moment had buckled them securely high about the throat of the giraffe.

It will be seen that I was not myself when I say that this performance did not shock me as it should have done, though I was, of course, less entertained by it than were the remainder of our party and a circle of the French lower classes that had formed about us.

“Give him his head!

Let’s see what time you can make!

” shouted Cousin Egbert as the affair began once more to revolve.

I saw that both my companions held opened watches in their hands.

It here becomes difficult for me to be lucid about the succeeding events of the day.

I was conscious of a mounting exhilaration as my beast swept me around the circle, and of a marked impatience with many of the proprieties of behaviour that ordinarily with me matter enormously.

I swung my cap and joyously urged my strange steed to a faster pace, being conscious of loud applause each time I passed my companions.

For certain lapses of memory thereafter I must wholly blame this insidious motion.

For example, though I believed myself to be still mounted and whirling (indeed I was strongly aware of the motion), I found myself seated again at the corner public house and rapping smartly for drink, which I paid for.

I was feeling remarkably fit, and suffered only a mild wonder that I should have left the carrousel without observing it.

Having drained my glass, I then remember asking Cousin Egbert if he would consent to change hats with the cabby, which he willingly did.

It was a top-hat of some strange, hard material brightly glazed.

Although many unjust things were said of me later, this is the sole incident of the day which causes me to admit that I might have taken a glass too much, especially as I undoubtedly praised Cousin Egbert’s appearance when the exchange had been made, and was heard to wish that we might all have hats so smart.

It was directly after this that young Mr. Elmer, the art student, invited us to his studio, though I had not before remarked his presence, and cannot recall now where we met him.

The occurrence in the studio, however, was entirely natural.

I wished to please my friends and made no demur whatever when asked to don the things--a trouserish affair, of sheep’s wool, which they called “chapps,” a flannel shirt of blue (they knotted a scarlet handkerchief around my neck), and a wide-brimmed white hat with four indentations in the crown, such as one may see worn in the cinema dramas by cow-persons and other western-coast desperadoes.

When they had strapped around my waist a large pistol in a leather jacket, I considered the effect picturesque in the extreme, and my friends were loud in their approval of it.

I repeat, it was an occasion when it would have been boorish in me to refuse to meet them halfway.

I even told them an excellent wheeze I had long known, which I thought they might not, have heard.

It runs: “Why is Charing Cross?

Because the Strand runs into it.

” I mean to say, this is comic providing one enters wholly into the spirit of it, as there is required a certain nimbleness of mind to get the point, as one might say.

In the present instance some needed element was lacking, for they actually drew aloof from me and conversed in low tones among themselves, pointedly ignoring me.

I repeated the thing to make sure they should see it, whereat I heard Cousin Egbert say.

“Better not irritate him--he’ll get mad if we don’t laugh,” after which they burst into laughter so extravagant that I knew it to be feigned.

Hereupon, feeling quite drowsy, I resolved to have forty winks, and with due apologies reclined upon the couch, where I drifted into a refreshing slumber.

Later I inferred that I must have slept for some hours.

I was awakened by a light flashed in my eyes, and beheld Cousin Egbert and the Tuttle person, the latter wishing to know how late I expected to keep them up.

I was on my feet at once with apologies, but they instantly hustled me to the door, down a flight of steps, through a court-yard, and into the waiting cab.

It was then I noticed that I was wearing the curious hat of the American Far-West, but when I would have gone back to leave it, and secure my own, they protested vehemently, wishing to know if I had not given them trouble enough that day.

In the cab I was still somewhat drowsy, but gathered that my companions had left me, to dine and attend a public dance-hall with the cubbish art student.

They had not seemed to need sleep and were still wakeful, for they sang from time to time, and Cousin Egbert lifted the cabby’s hat, which he still wore, bowing to imaginary throngs along the street who were supposed to be applauding him.

I at once became conscience-stricken at the thought of Mrs. Effie’s feelings when she should discover him to be in this state, and was on the point of suggesting that he seek another apartment for the night, when the cab pulled up in front of our own hotel.

Though I protest that I was now entirely recovered from any effect that the alcohol might have had upon me, it was not until this moment that I most horribly discovered myself to be in the full cow-person’s regalia I had donned in the studio in a spirit of pure frolic.

I mean to say, I had never intended to wear the things beyond the door and could not have been hired to do so.

What was my amazement then to find my companions laboriously lifting me from the cab in this impossible tenue.

I objected vehemently, but little good it did me.

“Get a policeman if he starts any of that rough stuff,” said the Tuttle person, and in sheer horror of a scandal I subsided, while one on either side they hustled me through the hotel lounge--happily vacant of every one but a tariff manager--and into the lift.

And now I perceived that they were once more pretending to themselves that I was in a bad way from drink, though I could not at once suspect the full iniquity of their design.

As we reached our own floor, one of them still seeming to support me on either side, they began loud and excited admonitions to me to be still, to come along as quickly as possible, to stop singing, and not to shoot.

I mean to say, I was entirely quiet, I was coming along as quickly as they would let me, I had not sung, and did not wish to shoot, yet they persisted in making this loud ado over my supposed intoxication, aimlessly as I thought, until the door of the Floud drawing-room opened and Mrs. Effie appeared in the hallway.

At this they redoubled their absurd violence with me, and by dint of tripping me they actually made it appear that I was scarce able to walk, nor do I imagine that the costume I wore was any testimonial to my sobriety.

“Now we got him safe,” panted Cousin Egbert, pushing open the door of my room.

“Get his gun, first!

” warned the Tuttle person, and this being taken from me, I was unceremoniously shoved inside.

“What does all this mean?

” demanded Mrs. Effie, coming rapidly down the hall.

“Where have you been till this time of night?

I bet it’s your fault, Jeff Tuttle--you’ve been getting him going.

” They were both voluble with denials of this, and though I could scarce believe my ears, they proceeded to tell a story that laid the blame entirely on me.

“No, ma’am, Mis’ Effie,” began the Tuttle person.

“It ain’t that way at all.

You wrong me if ever a man was wronged.

” “You just seen what state he was in, didn’t you?

” asked Cousin Egbert in tones of deep injury.

“Do you want to take another look at him?

” and he made as if to push the door farther open upon me.

“Don’t do it--don’t get him started again!

” warned the Tuttle person.

“I’ve had trouble enough with that man to-day.

” “I seen it coming this morning,” said Cousin Egbert, “when we was at the art gallery.

He had a kind of wild look in his eyes, and I says right then: ‘There’s a man ought to be watched,’ and, well, one thing led to another--look at this hat he made me wear--nothing would satisfy him but I should trade hats with some cab-driver----” “I was coming along from looking at two or three good churches,” broke in the Tuttle person, “when I seen Sour-dough here having a kind of a mix-up with this man because of him insisting he must ride a kangaroo or something on a merry-go-round, and wanting Sour-dough to ride an ostrich with him, and then when we got him quieted down a little, nothing would do him but he’s got to be a cowboy--you seen his clothes, didn’t you?

And of course I wanted to get back to Addie and the girls, but I seen Sour-dough here was in trouble, so I stayed right by him, and between us we got the maniac here.

” “He’s one of them should never touch liquor,” said Cousin Egbert; “it makes a demon of him.

” “I got his knife away from him early in the game,” said the other.

“I don’t suppose I got to wear this cabman’s hat just because he told me to, have I?

” demanded Cousin Egbert.

“And here I’d been looking forward to a quiet day seeing some well-known objects of interest,” came from the other, “after I got my tooth pulled, that is.

” “And me with a tooth, too, that nearly drove me out of my mind,” said Cousin Egbert suddenly.

I could not see Mrs. Effie, but she had evidently listened to this outrageous tale with more or less belief, though not wholly credulous.

“You men have both been drinking yourselves,” she said shrewdly.

“We had to take a little; he made us,” declared the Tuttle person brazenly.

“He got so he insisted on our taking something every time he did,” added Cousin Egbert.

“And, anyway, I didn’t care so much, with this tooth of mine aching like it does.

” “You come right out with me and around to that dentist I went to this morning,” said the Tuttle person.

“You’ll suffer all night if you don’t. ” “Maybe I’d better,” said Cousin Egbert, “though I hate to leave this comfortable hotel and go out into the night air again.

” “I’ll have the right of this in the morning,” said Mrs. Effie.

“Don’t think it’s going to stop here!

” At this my door was pulled to and the key turned in the lock.

Frankly I am aware that what I have put down above is incredible, yet not a single detail have I distorted.

With a quite devilish ingenuity they had fastened upon some true bits: I had suggested the change of hats with the cabby, I had wished to ride the giraffe, and the Tuttle person had secured my knife, but how monstrously untrue of me was the impression conveyed by these isolated facts.

I could believe now quite all the tales I had ever heard of the queerness of Americans.

Queerness, indeed!

I went to bed resolving to let the morrow take care of itself.

Again I was awakened by a light flashing in my eyes, and became aware that Cousin Egbert stood in the middle of the room.

He was reading from his notebook of art criticisms, with something of an oratorical effect.

Through the half-drawn curtains I could see that dawn was breaking.

Cousin Egbert was no longer wearing the cabby’s hat.

It was now the flat cap of the Paris constable or policeman.