Life — December 29, 1892 — page 27: what you’re looking at

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

pursuit of faro-banking, mounted on the shoulders of some of his friends, and just withdrawing his head from the hole in a broken car window. Then Keefe put his hands through the opening, and pushing the snap from within, proceeded to lift the sash and climb into the car. Then he walked through and opened the door for his com- panions. Lansdale, prompted by professional iosity, made his entrance with the others. The scene was one of confusion. Most of the occupants were cowering in their seats, and those who had fainted were, with one ex- ception, receiving no attention from their ter- rified companions. In the aisle a middle-aged lady, whose hat and spectacles had been knocked sadly awry, was stretched at full length. At her side was a pretty young girl vigorously rubbing her hands. As Keefe approached the latter, she jumped to her feet with flushed cheeks, and eyes flushing with indignation. “How dare you!” she exclaimed. “ How dare you fright- en my aunt so!" “Hold on, lat * Don’t get sas: y-bird,” Keefe replied. because sassiness don't go in this game. See?” But at this moment Mr. Keefe felt a strong arm around his neck and a sensation of being thrown into the middle of next week. He had simply been removed to make way for the approach of Mr. Fred Lansdale. “Don't be alarmed,” said that gentleman to the young girl. “Is there anything I can do for you?” Without waiting for a reply he stalked to the rear of the car, and returning with the tin cup filled with water, began to sprinkle the face of the fainted lady. She finally opened her eyes and Lansdale then lifted her to a seat and left her to the care of the younger woman. This was quite necessary, because Mr. Keefe, having recovered himself from his sur- prise, was coming towards Lansdale with a view to resenting the interruption to the inter- view between himself and the pretty girl. Atthe same moment another party, headed by Marty Heilmann, a Jewish gentleman of eminence in the bunco business, swarmed into the car. “See here, fellah,” “whathell d’ye mean? Youse newspaper s gettin’ altogether too fresh.” said Lansdale, “don’t be an ass. It you're looking for trouble you'll get it, but you'd better get out of this right away. young Keefe said, SUTHE REST OF MEILMANN’S CROWD HAD BEEN STARTLED BY THE RAPID DOWNFALL OF THEN COMPANIONS.” Don't you see you're frightening these women. What are you doing here anyhow ? I always thought you were too much of a man to hurt a woman.” Whether it was on account of the determined set of Lansdale’s face, or a thought that a newspaper enemy in New York might hurt his business standing, did not appear at the moment, but it is a fact that the belligerency rather died out of Keefe’s look and attitude. It is barely possible that Lans- dale’s appeal to his manliness had some effect. Just then Lansdale caught sight over Keefe’s shoulder of Mr. Marty comicbooks.com