Only imagine all these notorious men meeting together haphazard in this manner. They could scarcely recover their astonishment. There was nothing else to be done but to make a muster of what money was in the camp, and to send Pennsylvania Dutch for its worth in whisky, so as to celebrate such an event by a carousal. This was at once done, and Windy’s pensioner shook off his laziness from head to foot, which made Wee Shorty sarcastically remark—“Dutchy would rather buy than beg.” To which Windy, in a voice of despair, answered—“He will never make a beggar and, if I did not keep a sharp eye on him, or anything occurred to part us, he would live in orchards and turnip fields until he saw a chance to become a working man. He confessed, when I first met him, that he had lived for ten days on green corn and apples, so I took him in hand and kept him, thinking my example would rouse him to action, but it was of no use, for the poor fellow has not the heart. However, I never forget poor Dutchy when I am foraging,” said Windy, rather tenderly.
It was not long before the object of these remarks returned and placed before his companions two bottles of whisky. “Now, boys,” said Windy, after he had become affected by several lots of spirits—“Now, boys, I propose that we hold this camp down for a whole week, and we will all rag up”—meaning that they would beg clothes and put on the appearance of gentlemen. His proposal was unanimously seconded, and was quickly followed by a suggestion from the Indian Kid that they should finish the whisky, which also met with no objection. “We will hold the camp,” cried Windy, “against all comers.” They would certainly find no necessity for defending their privacy, for one glance at these six men, especially in their present condition, would have been sufficient to deter any decent-minded person from entering. This camp was now far more private than Mrs. Brown’s house in town, who had a neighbour that never entered other people’s doors without first knocking; but which neighbour never gave Mrs. Brown, or anyone else, the chance to remove sundry things that were better concealed, nor waited to hear the cry “come in”; for she entered as she knocked, saying—“Don’t be alarmed, Mrs. Brown, it is only Mrs. White.”
Alas, the whisky soon gave out, and there was no more money, and what was to be done? “I propose,” said English Harry, “that we leave Pennsylvania Dutch in charge of the camp while we go out foraging for an hour.” To this they all agreed, and made their way towards the town. On reaching the suburbs they divided and went in different directions, with the understanding that each man should be returned to the camp in less than two hours, and that each one should have no less than half a dollar.
How it was done was a mystery, but Wee Shorty was back in less than an hour, not only with half a dollar but with twenty cents’ worth of whisky in a bottle. He was soon followed by Windy, who had begged fifty-five cents. After which came in English Harry and the Indian Kid together, each with half a dollar. But where was Philadelphia Slim, Wee Shorty’s boon companion? For these were good beggars all, who could have almost persuaded the birds to feed them in the wilderness, and Slim was by no means the worst, even though the Wee Man was by a small degree the best. Until they knew the fate of poor Slim they felt very little inclination to continue their carousal.
It might have been three-quarters of an hour after the return of English Harry and the Kid, when they heard a step coming through the bush and, turning their eyes that way, were soon confronted by their late companion Slim. He had a large bundle under his arm, but to the surprise and anxiety of his companions, was holding to his nose a bloodstained pocket handkerchief. “Who has done that, Slim?” cried Wee Shorty, who had surreptitiously fortified himself with whisky, and who, being the smallest man, was naturally the most ferocious—“Who has done that?” he cried, springing to his feet and, with his hands dangerously clenched, standing to his full height. Slim did not answer this question at once, but threw down his bundle; after which he produced a dollar bill and placed it thereon. Pointing then to the twain with his right hand—his left hand still being occupied with his bleeding nose—he said, “Here is a suit of clothes and a dollar bill, and I have well earned them.” Such words were mysterious to his associates, for they knew that Slim would never at any price perform labour, and they came to the conclusion in their own minds that he had forcibly taken these things in a very high handed fashion, and had suffered in the act. What a disgrace to the profession!
After enquiring if there was any whisky to be had, and being supplied with the same by his particular friend Wee Shorty, Slim proposed that Pennsylvania Dutch should be again despatched with all speed for a fresh supply. Seeing this done he then seated himself and proceeded to give his experience.
It seems that Slim had had more difficulty than was expected. A full half hour had elapsed, and Slim had not received one cent, although he had told his pitiful story to a number of people. He almost began to despair of success, but firmly resolved not to return without something to show for his trouble. Seeing a very large house he went to the front door and rang the bell, but the door remained unanswered. Not to be baffled by this, and beginning to feel desperate, he made his way to the back of the house, and was just about to knock at
