Judge — April 12, 1913 — page 9: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

“Sure, I'll sell him!" replied Fitch. ‘I like him well enough, only he bothers me some on my long trips. He's too much of a pet.” “What's his name?”’ “Everybody calls him ‘Scoot’ now. The automobile people up-street dubbed him that. He can outrun any automobile in town.’’ “T'll take him, if your price isn’t too high. I want him for company for the children.”” Fitch named a price and the man paid over the money, “Good doggie, good doggie!’’ said his new owner, at the same time running his fingers under his collar. “You'd better keep him shut up for an hour or two and feed him pretty well,”” suggested Fitch, driving away. Fitch served his numerous customers with meat and story, then, backing on his tracks for a mile or so, drove to an- other beach hamlet farther up the coast. As he pulled up in front of a small hotel, he heard a series of violent puffings be- hind him, and, looking round, beheld his saffron-hued friend of the morning. Oe “saut uP! “Hello, old pal!’” he exclaimed. ‘‘Like your old friends best, eh? Gee! but you stick like a mortgage! Hey!"’ he called to the proprietor of the hotel, who had just emerged from the cafe door. ‘*Know anybody round here who wants to buy a dog?” “‘What’s the mat- ter, Ferd? Ain’t you makin’ your own frankfurt’ stock now?’’ queried the proprietor, with a leer. ~“This dog is too valuable for commer- cial purposes,’ replied Fitch, ‘How's that for a backstop?” he asked, shying a piece of meat astern. “Say, he's a big leaguer, ain’t he?’’ ex- claimed the proprietor. ‘What's his name?"’ “*Scoot,’’ replied Fitch. “*You mean Scout, don’t you?’ “No; Scoot—just plain Scoot."” “Funny name, ain’t it?” ‘*No; he’s named after a famous motor boat, on account of his speed. Lives up to his name, too,’’ said Fitch, throwing up the flap. WHAT ARE YOU SINGING ABOUT?” HER SOLICITUDE Desperate man—Ii was to satisfy your extravagant tastes that I com- mitted the forgery. The crime is upon your head! His qwife—Is my crime on straight? “You say you wanter sell him?””” don’t want to sell him,’’ replied Fitch hesitatingly; ‘“‘but I will. He doesn’t get along very well with my other dog at home.”’ ‘Is he a good home dog?”’ asked the proprietor, stroking him. “No better home dog in the world when he’s there,’’ responded Fitch. **How much you want for him?”’ “Five dollars will take him this morn- ing.’” “All right; add five dollars on the meat bill,’ said the proprietor, knuckling the dog's collar. “Better keep hold of him till I get out of sight,’’ warned Fitch, patting the dog a fond adieu. “Leave it to me,’’ answered the pro- prietor, holding the struggling trailer. Fitch had yet one more summer colony to visit ere he made his way back to the center. He had not driven more than a mile when he heard a familiar yelp in the rear. A glance backward told him that Scoot was living fully up to his name. The meatman’s first call was at a plumber- blacksmith’s, who presided over a home- made garage on the side, “Hello, Henry!’ called out Fitch. “Want any meat to-day?" “Sure thing,’ replied Henry, “if it ain’t gone aryplanin’ sence the last time !"" ‘*Meat’s dropped a little,’’ said Fitch, throwing up the flap. “‘Didn’t hear it,’’ replied the black- smith, waddling toward the cart. “Don’t want to buy a good dog, do you?”’ asked Fitch, above the rasp of the meat saw. “I dunno; I kinder need one here now, to watch all this property,” replied Henry. “‘There’s a good watch dog, if that’s what you want,’’ said Fitch, tossing a pop-fly, which the trailer caught and comicbooks.com