Judge — March 7, 1914 — page 6: what you’re looking at

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

He began to pull them on with his left hand. Suddenly, with his right, he dashed the pitcher to the floor, It broke, of course, and out rolled as pretty a ball of ice as you ever saw. Right in the middle of it, frozen in like a winter- ing arctic ship, was a full set of strictly high-grade teeth, with plate, as the advertisements say. To travel with our stars you've got to be a handy man. ‘You dress,"’ I ordered. ‘‘I’ll dig for the ivories,’” He fell to dragging on his clothes, and I fell to pecking at the ice with my knife; it was pecking— just that. The point took no hold on the curved sur- face, and, my hands chilling, the ice ball slipped and rolled under the bed. When I retrieved it, the stage driver was bellowing his last call up the stairs. I threw the ball to Braunce, seized the two grips, and started. He had an inspiration. He couldn't lose the train; he couldn’t lose the teeth. So he wrapped the ball in a towel and pelted after me. The stage was as cold as Greenland, and the towel froze to the ice. We found this out when we boarded the smoking-car. “Thaw itout! Thank the Lord, there’s a stove!’’ said I. A big fire roared in the stove. Braunce bent over it. Presently the towel showed moisture; then water began to drip. And then a tall, lank chap, in fur coat and cap, who had been eying us closely, tapped Braunce’s shoulder. “‘What you got there, friend?"’ he asked. Braunce has a gentleman's preference for keeping his own counsel about strictly personal affairs. Nor do I know of any rule of the road requiring one to exhibit one’s dental outfit to utter strangers. “‘Whatever he has, it’s nothing of yours,”’ said I, tartly. “Ain't, heh? Give me three guesses, and all of ’em’ll be he’s got something packed in ice. And there ain’t but one thing shipped that fashion out o’ this country, and that’s trout ketched agin the law, by jirainy! Mebbe them fish ain’t mine, but they’re goin’ to be, sonny.’’ And with that he threw back his fur coat and tapped a game warden’s badge. I had been on the wrong track. ‘‘But, my dear fellow’’—— “Huh! Can't softsoap me!’’ quoth the tall man. ‘And say! Let him speak for himself. What's he hidin’ inside his ulster for?’’ Braunce was taking mighty good care to keep that shrunken A PROTEST The grandmother of yesterday— take to pass that—er—er—that package, sight unseen? ——and of to-day mouth of his out of sight, and I own he had a hang-dog look about him. Still, that didn’t prove him a fish poacher. 1 mede the point diplomatically. “Umph! Seein’s believin’,”” remarked the warden cyni- cally. At that Braunce hugged his soppy bundle the tighter. Two or three passengers were edging our way. People who see things talk, and the papers get hold of the stories that do the most harm. I plucked the tall man’s sleeve. “We hate trouble,’’ I whispered. ‘*You’re a good chap as well as a sharp one. Let’s be sports, both of us! What'll you on He shook his head, but weakly. ‘‘It’d be irregular. Couldn't doit. And—and’’—I'd pulled out a roll of bills—‘‘and the fine’s five dollars a fish found in possession.’” “For argument’s sake, suppose there were two’*—— “‘Not less’n six,’’ said he, out of the corner of his mouth. “Pack close, they do.”’ I glanced at Braunce. He didn’t speak, but his nod was emphatic. I thrust money into the tall man’s hands. “Heaven forgive you for grinding the face of the unfor- tunate!"’ said I, ‘‘I never shall.’” He grinned and stepped back, making way for the conductor, who punched the tickets, looked us over and appeared to be reminded of something. “One of you named Braunce?”’ he asked. ‘Well, if you’re the party, I’ve a message for you. Mrs. Judge Merrow sent it. She and her club’ll entertain you at breakfast at the Junction. We're due there in five min- utes. They'll be waiting for you.’? He passed on, and! looked at Braunce again. He was shaking his head. 1 shook mine back at him. comicbooks.com