Shorty McCabe on the Job

Sewell Ford

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• Publié par: phoic
• Publié le: 08 décembre 2010
• Nombre de lectures: 43
• Langue: English

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The Project Gutenberg eBook, Shorty McCabe on the Job, by Sewell Ford, Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org Title: Shorty McCabe on the Job Author: Sewell Ford Release Date: April 7, 2007 [eBook #21005] Language: English Character set encoding: ISO-8859-1 ***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK SHORTY MCCABE ON THE JOB*** E-text prepared by Roger Frank and the Project Gutenberg Online Distributed Proofreading Team (http://www.pgdp.net) "IT MIGHT GIVE US SOME CLEW," SAYS I, "AS TO WHAT HIM AND YOUR PAW HAD A RUN-IN ABOUT." SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB BY SEWELL FORD AUTHOR OF SHORTY McCABE, SIDE-STEPPING WITH SHORTY, ETC. ILLUSTRATED BY F. VAUX WILSON NEW YORK G R O S S E T PUBLISHERS & D U N L A P Copyright, 1913, 1914, 1915, by SEWELL FORD Copyright, 1915, by EDWARD J. CLODE All rights reserved CONTENTS CHAPTER PAGE I. II. III. IV. V. VI. VII. VIII. IX. X. XI. XII. XIII. XIV. XV. XVI. XVII. XVIII. XIX. WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY A FEW SQUIRMS BY BAYARD PEEKING IN ON PEDDERS TWO SINGLES TO GOOBER THE CASE OF A FEMALE PARTY HOW MILLIE SHOOK THE JINX REVERSE ENGLISH ON SONNY BOY GUMMING GOPHER TO THE MAP WHAT LINDY HAD UP HER SLEEVE A CASE OF NOBODY HOME UNDER THE WIRE WITH EDWIN A FIFTY-FIFTY SPLIT WITH HUNK A FOLLOW THROUGH BY EGGY CATCHING UP WITH GERALD SHORTY HEARS FROM PEMAQUID SCRATCH ONE ON BULGAROO BAYARD DUCKS HIS PAST TRAILING DUDLEY THROUGH A TRANCE A LITTLE WHILE WITH ALVIN 1 18 32 49 65 81 100 115 131 150 165 182 198 217 233 251 267 285 304 ILLUSTRATIONS "IT MIGHT GIVE US SOME CLEW," SAYS I, "AS TO WHAT HIM AND YOUR P HAD A RUN-IN ABOUT." AW "I WOULDN'T HAVE ANYTHING HAPPEN TO YOU FOR THE WORLD," SAYS I. "NOW SEE HEA-UH, MISTUH VONSTABLE," SAYS HE, "I WOULDN'T GO Frontispiece FACING PAGE 6 FOR TO DO ANYTHING LIKE THAT." "SAY, I'M A BEAR FOR PARIS." "NOW, FRIENDS!" HE CALLS, "EVERYBODY IN ON THE CHORUS." "WHAT'S THE IDEA," SAYS MABEL, "WISHIN' THIS RUBE STUFF ON US?" HE SIDLES UP TO THE DESK AND PROCEEDS TO MAKE SOME THROATY NOISES. BLAMED IF DUDLEY DON'T HAVE THE NERVE TO TOW VERONICA INTO THE NEXT ROOM, STRETCHIN' ON TIPTOE TO TALK IN HER EAR. 62 94 127 158 198 298 SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB 1 CHAPTER I WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY Do things just happen, like peculiar changes in the weather, or is there a general scheme on file somewhere? Is it a free-for-all we're mixed up in—with our Harry Thaws and our Helen Kellers; our white slavers, our white hopes, and our white plague campaigns; our trunk murders, and our fire heroes? Or are we runnin' on schedule and headed somewhere? I ain't givin' you the answer. I'm just slippin' you the proposition, with the side remark that now and then, when the jumble seems worse than ever, you can get a glimpse of what might be a clew, or might not. Anyway, here I was, busy as a little bee, blockin' right hooks and body jabs that was bein' shot at me by a husky young uptown minister who's a headliner at his job, I understand, but who's developin' a good, useful punch on the side. I was just landin' a cross wallop to the ribs, by way of keepin' him from bein' too ambitious with his left, when out of the tail of my eye I notices Swifty Joe edgin' in with a card in his paw. "Time out!" says I, steppin' back and droppin' my guard. "Well, Swifty, what's the scandal?" "Gent waitin' to see you," says he. "Let him wait, then," says I. "Ah-r-r-r, but he's a reg'lar gent!" protests Swifty, fingerin' the card. "Even so, he'll keep five minutes more, won't he?" says I. "But he—he's——" begins Swifty, strugglin' to connect that mighty intellect of his with his tongue. "Ah, read off the name," says I. "Is it Mayor Mitchel, Doc Wilson, or who?" "It says J. B-a-y-a-r-d Ste—Steele," says Swifty. "Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Lemme see. Him! Say, Swifty, you go back and tell J. Bayard that if he's got nerve enough to want to see me, it'll be a case of wait. And if he's at all messy about it, I give you leave to roll him downstairs. The front of some folks! Come on now, Dominie! Cover up better with that right mitt: I'm goin' to push in a few on you this time." And if you never saw a Fifth avenue preacher well lathered up you should have had a glimpse of this one at the end of the next round. He's game, though; even thanks me for it puffy. "You're welcome," says I. "Maybe I did steam 'em in a bit; but I expect it was because I had my mind on that party out front. While you're rubbin' down I'll step in and attend to his case. If I could only wish a pair of eightounce gloves on him for a few minutes!" So, without stoppin' to change, or even sheddin' the mitts, I walks into the front office, to discover this elegant party in the stream-line cutaway pacin' restless up and down the room. Yes, he sure is some imposin' to look at, with his pearl gray spats, and the red necktie blazin' brilliant under the close-clipped crop of Grand Duke whiskers. I don't know what there is special about a set of frosted face shubb'ry that sort of suggests bank presidents and so on, but somehow they do. Them and the long, thin nose gives him a pluty, distinguished look, in spite of the shifty eyes and the weak mouth lines. But I ain't in a mood to be impressed. "Well?" says I snappy. I expect my appearin' in a cut-out jersey, with my shoulder muscles still bunched, must have jarred him a little; for he lifts his eyebrows doubtful and asks, "Er—Professor McCabe, is it?" 3 2 "Uh-huh," says I. "What'll it be?" "My name," says he, "is Steele." "I know," says I. "Snug fit too, I judge." He flushes quick and stiffens. "Do you mean to infer, Sir, that——" "You're on," says I. "The minute I heard your name I placed you for the smooth party that tried to unload a lot of that phony Radio stock on Mrs. Benny Sherwood. Wanted to euchre her out of the twenty thousand life insurance she got when Benny took the booze count last winter, eh? Well, it happens