quick he'll be in Texas.'
'For the scrappy kid was beating it while the going was good and was
half a mile away, running hard. Well, that was enough even for the
Whiting guy. 'I guess we'll call it a draw,' he says, 'and all bets
off.' I just looks at him and says, quite civil and polite: 'You darned
half-baked slob of a rough-house scrapper,' I says, 'it ain't a draw or
anything like it. My kid wins, and I'll trouble you now to proceed to
cash in with the dough, or else I'm liable to start something.' So he
paid up, and I took the White Hope indoors and give him a wash and
brush-up, and we cranks up the bubble and hikes off to the town and
spends the money on getting food for the celebration supper. And what's
over I slips into the kid's pocket and says: 'That's your first
winner's end, kid, and you've earned it.''
Steve paused and filled his glass.
'I'm on the waggon as a general thing nowadays,' he said; 'but I reckon
this an occasion. Right here is where we drink his health.'
And, overcome by his emotion, he burst into discordant song.
'Fo-or he's a jolly good fellow,' bellowed Steve. 'For he's a jolly
good fellow. For he's...'
There was a sound of quick footsteps outside, and Mamie entered the
room like a small whirlwind.
'Be quiet!' she cried. 'Do you want to wake him?'
'Wake him?' said Steve. 'You can't wake that kid with dynamite.'
He raised his glass.
'Ladeez'n gentlemen, the boy wonder! Here's to him! The bantam-weight
champeen of Connecticut. The Sixty-First Street Cyclone! The kid they
couldn't sterilize! The White Hope!'
'The White Hope!' echoed Kirk.
'Fo-or he's a jolly good fellow...' sang Steve.
'Be quiet!' said Mrs. Porter from the doorway, and Steve, wheeling
round, caught her eye and collapsed like a pricked balloon.
Of the little band of revellers it would be hard to say which was the
most taken aback at this invasion. The excitement of the moment had
kept them from hearing the sound of the automobile which Mrs. Porter,
mistrusting the rough road that led to the shack, had stopped some
distance away.
Perhaps, on the whole, Kirk was more surprised than either of his
companions. Their guilty consciences had never been quite free from the
idea of the possibility of pursuit; but Kirk, having gathered from
Mamie that neither Ruth nor her aunt was aware of what had happened,
had counted upon remaining undisturbed till the time for return came on
the morrow.
He stood staring at Ruth, who had followed Mrs. Porter into the room.
Mrs. Porter took charge of the situation. She was in her element. She
stood with one hand resting on the table as if she were about to make
an after-dinner speech, as indeed she was.
Lora Delane Porter was not dissatisfied with the turn events had taken.
On the whole, perhaps, it might be said that she was pleased. She
intended, when she began to speak, to pulverize Kirk and the abandoned
