Sandy, Page 3

  CHAPTER III

  THE CURSE OF WEALTH

  It is an oft-proved adage that for ten who can stand adversity thereis but one who can stand prosperity. Sandy, alas! was no exception toany rule which went to prove the frailty of human nature. The suddenacquisition of ten dollars cast him into a whirlpool of temptationfrom which he made little effort to escape.

  "I ain't goin' on to-day," announced Ricks. "I'm goin' to lay in mygoods for peddlin'. I reckon you kin come along of me."

  Sandy accepted a long and strong cigar, tilted his hat, andunconsciously caught Ricks's slouching gait as they went down thestreet. After all, it was rather pleasant to associate withsophistication.

  "We'll git on the outside of a little dinner," said Ricks; "and I'llmosey round in the stores awhile, then I'll take you to a show or two.It's a mighty good thing for you that you got me along."

  Sandy thought so too. He cheerfully stood treat for the rest of theday, and felt that it was small return for Ricks's condescension.

  "How much you got left?" asked Ricks, that night, as they stoppedunder a street light to take stock.

  Sandy held out a couple of dollars and a fifty-cent piece.

  "Enough to put on the eyes of two and a half dead men," he said as hecuriously eyed the strange money.

  "One, two,--two and a half," counted Ricks.

  "Shillings?" asked Sandy, amazed.

  Ricks nodded.

  "And have I blowed all that to-day?"

  "What of it?" asked Ricks. "I seen a bloke onct what lit his cigarwith a bill like the one you had!"

  "But the doctor said it was two pounds," insisted Sandy,incredulously. He did not realize the expense of a personallyconducted tour of the Bowery.

  "Well, it's went," said Ricks, resignedly. "You can't count on settin'up biz with what's left."

  Sandy's brows clouded, and he shifted his position restlessly. "Now Iax yerself, Ricks, what'u'd you do?" he said.

  "Me? I don't give advice to nobody. But effen it was me I'd knowmighty quick what to do."

  "What?" said Sandy, eagerly.

  "Buy a dawg."

  "A dog? I ain't goin' blind."

  "Lor'! but you're a softhorn," said Ricks, contemptuously. "I s'poseyou'd count on leadin' him round by a pink ribbon."

  "Oh, you mean a fighter?"

  "Sure. My last dawg could do ever'thing in sight. She was so game shewent after herself in a lookin'-glass and got kilt. Oh, they's moneyin dawgs, and I knows how to make 'em win ever' time."

  Sandy, tired as he was from the day's excitement, insisted upon goingin search of one at once. He already had visions of becoming the proudowner of a canine champion that would put him immediately into theposition of lighting his cigar with a two-pound note.

  The first three weeks of their experience on the road went far torealize their expectations. The bulldog, which had been bought inpartnership, proved a conquering hero. Through the long summer daysthe boys tramped over the country, peddling their wares, and by nightthey conducted sundry unlawful encounters wherever an opponent couldbe found.

  Sandy enjoyed the peddling. It was astonishing what friendlysociability and confidential intimacy were established by the sale ofblue suspenders and pink soap. He left a line of smiling testimonialsin his wake.

  But if the days were proving satisfactory, so much could not be saidof the nights. Even the phenomenal luck that followed his dog failedto keep up his enthusiasm.

  "You ain't a nachrul sport," complained Ricks. "That's your trouble.When the last fight was on, you set on the fence and listened at a'ole idiot scrapin' a fiddle down in the valley."

  Sandy made a feeble defense, but he knew in his soul it was so.

  Affairs reached a climax one night in an old barn on the outskirts ofa town. A fight was about to begin when Sandy discovered Ricksjudiciously administering a sedative to the enemy's dog.

  Then understanding dawned upon him, and his rage was elemental. With avalor that lacked the better part of discretion, he hurled himselfthrough the crowd and fell upon Ricks.

  An hour later, bruised, bloody, and vanquished, he stumbled alongthrough the dreary night. Hot with rage and defeat, utterly ignorantof his whereabouts, his one friend turned foe, he was indeed in sorryplight.

  He climbed over the fence and lay face downward in the long, coolgrass, stretching his bruised and aching body along the ground. Agentle night wind rustled above him, and by and by a star peeped out,then another and another. Before he knew it, he was listening to thefrogs and katydids, and wondering what they were talking about. Heceased to think about Ricks and his woes, and gave himself up to thedelicious, drowsy peace that was all about him. For, child of naturethat he was, he had turned to the only mother he knew.