Checkers
 
 'It's tough to be poor." Act II.
 
 CHECKERS 
 
 A HARD-LUCK STORY BY 
 HENRY M. BLOSSOM Jr. 
 
 GROSSET & DUN LAP 
 PUBLISHERS: NEW YORK
 
 COPYRIGHT, 1896, BY 
 HERBERT S. STONE fe CO.
 
 TO MY FRIEND, 
 
 ELLIS WAINWRIGHTo
 
 Checkers 
 
 I had never before attended the races. 
 " The sport of kings " is not popular in 
 Boston, my former home, but here in Chi 
 cago every one turns out on Derby Day, if 
 at no other time. And so, catching some 
 thing of the general enthusiasm, my friend 
 Murray Jameson, who by the way is some 
 thing of a sport, and I, who by the same 
 token am not, found ourselves driving a 
 very smart trap out Michigan avenue, 
 amidst a throng of coaches, cabs, breaks 
 and buggies, people and conveyances of 
 every description beautiful women beau 
 tifully costumed, young men, business men, 
 toughs and wantons all on their way to 
 Washington Park, and all in a fever of
 
 4 CHECKERS 
 
 excitement over the big race to be run that 
 afternoon the great American Derby. 
 
 "Now Jack," said Murray, as in due 
 process we reached our box and sat gazing 
 at the crowds about and below us, "it 
 strikes me that we should have a small bet 
 of some sort on the different races, just to 
 liven things up a bit. What say we go 
 down into the betting ring and have a look 
 at the odds ?" 
 
 "As you like," I answered, rising to 
 show my willingness; "but you will have 
 to do the necessary, I do n't know one 
 horse from another." 
 
 " The less you know the more apt you 
 are to win," said Muriay airily; "but if 
 you say so, I '11 make one bet for both of 
 as, share and share alike. No plunging 
 goes to-day though, Jack; we do n't want 
 to gamble. We '11 have up a couple of 
 dollars, just to focalize the interest. If we 
 lose it won't amount to much, and if we 
 ivin we win. 
 
 " But just a word of warning before we 
 go down. Keep your eye on your watch
 
 CHECKERS 5 
 
 and your money, or you' 11 get 'touched;' 
 and if we should chance to be separated in 
 a crowd, be careful not to let anyone 
 1 tout ' you." 
 
 Now, if there 's one thing I am especially 
 proud of, it is my ability to take care of 
 myself in any company, and Murray's pat 
 ronizing manner, in view of my professed 
 ignorance, rather galled me. 
 
 " The man who gets my watch or money 
 fe welcome to it," I answered shortly, but 
 toning my coat about me as we walked 
 ftlong; "and as for being 'touted' well, 
 t '11 try to take care of that." 
 
 Whether to be ' touted ' was to be held 
 ftp, buncoed, or drugged and robbed, I 
 had no definite notion; but I took it to be 
 a confidence game of some sort and des 
 pised it accordingly. 
 
 Just here, following Murray, I elbowed 
 my way into the hottest, best-natured, 
 most conglomerate crowd it was ever my 
 lot to mingle with. Merchants, clerks and 
 gilded youths, laborers, gamblers, negroes, 
 ind what-not, money in hand, pushed,
 
 6 CHECKERS 
 
 pulled and trod upon each other indis 
 criminately in their efforts to reach the 
 betting stands. 
 
 The book-makers, ranged along in rows, 
 stood on little platforms in front of their 
 booths, taking the crowd's money and 
 calling out the amount and nature of each 
 bet to assistants within who scratched off 
 and registered corresponding pool-tickets 
 which were quickly returned to the strug 
 gling bettors. 
 
 On a blackboard at the end of each 
 booth were posted the names of the horses 
 with their jockeys. Against these names 
 the book-makers chalked up their figures, 
 increasing or lessening the odds from time 
 to time as the different horses were fancied 
 or neglected in the betting. 
 
 " There 's nothing in this race but Maid 
 Marian," said Murray, scanning the black 
 boards critically ; "but 4 to 5 is the best I see 
 on her, and I want even money or nothing" 
 the which was largely Greek to me until 
 by questioning and deduction I found the 
 situation in English to be as follows:
 
 CHECKERS 7 
 
 Maid Marian was judged on breeding 
 and past performance to be much the best 
 horse in the race, so much so that although 
 about to run with five or six other racers, 
 the book-makers demanded odds from 
 those who bet on her in the ratio of 5 to 4. 
 
 When I asked Murray why they did not 
 offer $ i to $1.25 he replied that " halves 
 and quarters did n't go," and pointed out 
 a sign which read: " No bets taken under 
 $5." There were several smaller "books," 
 however, which took $2 bets, and did a 
 thriving business. 
 
 The crowd by this time had become 
 absolutely dense. Murray was suddenly 
 dragged away by a current in the mob 
 which set towards a book-maker who had 
 chalked up " even money, Maid Marian." 
 
 I followed long enough to see the 
 "booky" change again to "4 to 5" before 
 Murray reached him; and then, believing 
 myself about to be crushed to death, I 
 forced my way to the edge of the ring and 
 stood hoping that my friend would do 
 likewise.
 
 8 CHECKERS 
 
 A very " horsey " individual, wearing an 
 owner's badge, and a most disreputable- 
 looking negro were discussing the forth 
 coming race just behind me. 
 
 '* Dat Maid Marian ain't got no license 
 to win dis race a mile 's too fah fo* her, 
 Buah," said the darkey. " Sister Mary '11 
 win dat 's who '11 win." 
 
 " Naw ! naw I" drawled the other. "Sen 
 ator Irby '11 come purty near gettin' de coin, 
 wid Peytonia fer an outside chance. I see 
 Peytonia work a mighty fast mile yesterday 
 mornin', and I 'm jes' takin' a flyer on her 
 to win today for luck." 
 
 I glanced at the nearest blackboard 
 Paytonia 200 to i !1! 
 
 Would they dare to lay such odds against 
 a horse that had even the slightest chance 
 of winning ? It seemed most unlikely, and 
 yet I hesitated. There must be a possi 
 bility, or why was the horse in the race ? 
 My sporty-looking friend had said she was 
 fast and had bet upon her himself. Per 
 haps I had chanced upon some inside 
 information ; and, after all, $2 was no*
 
 CHECKERS 9 
 
 a very serious matter whether I won 01 
 lost. 
 
 I started toward the betting stand, but 
 suddenly stopped short. No, Murray was 
 to make one bet for both of us, and had 
 andoubtedly done what he thought was 
 best I would abide by his judgment. 
 
 But did he know what I knew where 
 could he be ? 
 
 The crowd, which was now surging out 
 of the betting ring toward the fence and 
 up into the grand stand, thinned out rap 
 idly; but I held my place, hoping to catch 
 sight of Murray. 
 
 "Come on here and make your bets," 
 yelled the book-makers, with whom busi 
 ness had begun to grow slack ; *' they 're at 
 the post they Ml be off in a minute.*' 
 
 I accepted the invitation. Rushing up 
 to the nearest stand, I handed up two silver 
 dollars. "Peytonia," I said, with all the 
 nonchalance I could assume. 
 
 " Peytonia," repeated the book-maker ; 
 " four hundred to two," and in a moment 
 more I was the possessor of a fantastically-
 
 io CHECKERS 
 
 colored piece of card-board, on which was 
 scribbled in pencil " Peyt. 400-2." 
 
 Suddenly there was a roar of excitement 
 
 "They 're off," was the cry from a thou 
 sand throats, and I and the other tardy 
 ones rushed to find a favorable spot from 
 which to view the race. 
 
 I had n't time to hunt up our box; so 
 making for the fence, I forced my way in 
 next to the rail just as the horses, all in a 
 bunch, swung recklessly around the first 
 turn. 
 
 As the race progressed they began to 
 string out, one horse very clearly taking 
 the lead. 
 
 " The Maid 's in front, Senator Irby 
 second," yelled an enthusiast just beside 
 me. " Where 's Sister Mary? Maid Ma 
 rian 's quittin'. There 's Flora Thornton. 
 Go on, you Flora. Maid Marian 's out ol 
 it. The Senator 's leadin'. Flora is sec 
 ond. Just look at Peytonia, 
 
 I leaned over the rail, my heart in mji 
 mouth. Down the stretch they came at a 
 terrible pace; some three weie in front,
 
 CHECKERS ii 
 
 running almost as one. In a breath 
 were by us and under the wire, but which 
 of the three was first I could not deter 
 mine. 
 
 Instantly there was a babel of voices, in 
 which Senator Irby, Peytonia and Flora 
 Thornton were severally declared to have 
 won, and a general movement toward the 
 judges' stand was inaugurated for the pur 
 pose of learning " the official." 
 
 I had scarcely gone a dozen yards before 
 I ran across Murray, viciously elbowing his 
 way through the crowd. 
 
 There was something so irresistibly 
 funny in the expression of rueful chagrin 
 which sat upon his good-natured face, that 
 I forgot my excitement and began to laugh 
 irr moderately. 
 
 " Now, what do jem think of that for 
 luck?" he exclaimed on catching sight of 
 me ; " Senator Irby, a stake-horse, to be 
 beaten out by an old dog like Peytonia ? 
 It's enough to " 
 
 " Peytonia !" I echoed breathlessly, "did 
 Peytonia win ?"
 
 12 CHECKERS 
 
 "Of course she won. Did n't you see 
 the race?" 
 
 For a moment I simply could n't speak, 
 but clasping the tighter my precious ticket, 
 I swallowed heroically at the lump in my 
 throat, while Murray, unmindful of my 
 silence, continued. 
 
 " You see, Jack, after I left you, I got it 
 straight from a friend of mine that Maid 
 Marian was out of condition, which left 
 the race, it seemed to me, a walk-over for 
 Senator Irby. Well, it looked like a good 
 chance to make a'killin',' and I put twenty 
 on him at two and a half to one. Of 
 course I could n't figure on getting nosed 
 out by a hundred to one shot, but that 's 
 the luck I always play in. Well, I '11 get 
 it back on the third race; I've got a 
 'cinch' in that. You understand though, 
 Jack," he added, stopping suddenly, "you 
 have only a dollar's interest in the losing 
 I had no right to bet but $2, as was origi 
 nally agreed." 
 
 Just here I foresaw a peculiar complica 
 tion, and I was glad that, in my desire to
 
 CHECKERS 13 
 
 appear properly nonchalant, I had not as 
 yet announced my good fortune. 
 
 "Why, Murray," I exclaimed, slipping 
 my ticket into my pocket, " you are abso 
 lutely absurd. We agreed to share and 
 share alike in the day's transactions, and I 
 shall insist upon it. Suppose Senator Irby 
 had won instead of losing, would you have 
 offered me but a dollar's interest in the 
 winning, simply because I did n't know 
 you were going to bet so much?" 
 
 "Of course not, you should have had 
 your half; but that is a very different 
 thing." 
 
 " Different in result perhaps, but not in 
 principle; besides, come tc think of it, I 
 made a little bet myself." 
 
 " You did how much? " . 
 
 " Oh, only $2." 
 
 "Two dollars, eh? Well! That makes 
 us twenty-two out altogether. Eleven 
 apiece, if you insist upon it, although ' 
 
 " I do insist upon it; so that's settled 
 and now " 
 
 " By the way, Jack, what did you bet on ?'
 
 I 4 CHECKERS 
 
 This was the moment of my triumph 
 Handing him the ticket with an air of as 
 sumed carelessness, I covertly watched 
 with keenest relish his changes of expres 
 sion, as he ran the gamut of varied emotion 
 from idle indifference to supreme excite 
 ment. 
 
 "Jack! " he exclaimed at last, grabbing 
 my arm. "Jack, my boy! Did you know 
 
 " Just here I laughed and gave the 
 
 thing away, and then we both laughed, 
 while Murray improvised superlative similes 
 anent my luck, and upbraided me for my 
 duplicity. 
 
 "Ahem! two dollars twenty-two out 
 eleven apiece, eh, Murray?" I chuckled 
 mockingly. " Come on now, old man, 
 and show me how to cash this ticket;" 
 end we made our way toward the betting 
 ring. 
 
 We experienced no delay in getting the 
 money, as not one in a thousand had won 
 on the race, and the cashiers at the back 
 .f the stands had little or nothing to do. 
 
 J found great difficulty, however, in
 
 CHECKERS 15 
 
 making Murray accept his rightful half oi 
 the spoils; but out of his own mouth I 
 judged him, and in the end prevailed. 
 
 The next race, the second, we decided 
 not to bet upon, as the horses were, accord 
 ing to Murray, only a lot of " selling- 
 platers," and we needed a little respite 
 from the crowd. 
 
 So we sought our box, and in highest 
 spirits sat watching the masses surge to and 
 fro, while the freshening breeze blew strong 
 and cool, and brought up dark clouds 
 which looked like rain. 
 
 " The race after this is the Derby, you 
 know," said Murray, glancing at his pro 
 gramme. " Now I do n't want to influence 
 you, old man, but I really believe that 
 Domino will win. He's the best horse in 
 the race, and with Taral to ride him he 
 ought to be first under the wire. This 
 time, though, you shall bet for yourself, as 
 you have the proverbial beginner's luck. 
 Ah, they 're off 1 By Jove! that 's a beauti 
 ful start." 
 
 "Selling-platers" or not the second
 
 16 CHECKERS 
 
 race was a pretty one and I enjoyed it 
 thoroughly, from start to finish. 
 
 Is there any more pleasurable or intensely 
 interesting sight than that of a well-ap 
 pointed race between a number of sleek- 
 limbed thoroughbreds? The multi-colored 
 satins of the plucky little jockeys, the 
 whitened fences and the trim greensward 
 lend a picturesqueness; the buzz and hum 
 of the restless, pushing, ill-assorted crowd 
 adds an excitement to an ensemble, in my 
 opinion, altogether fascinating.
 
 II 
 
 And now for the Derby the great stake 
 race worth so many thousands of dollars 
 to the winner; the much-talked-of race, 
 in which the most noted horses in the 
 country, East and West, were to compete 
 for supremacy in fleetness and endurance, 
 and the most celebrated jockeys to vie with 
 each other in their peculiar generalship. 
 
 Leaving our box, we joined in the crush 
 and forced our way into the betting-ring. 
 The crowd was enormous, the interest in 
 tense. One had but to listen fora moment 
 to hear every horse in the race enthusi- 
 a r tically spoken of as " sure to win." 
 
 As it was simply useless in that crush to 
 try to keep together, Murray and I decided 
 to go our several ways, and meet in good 
 time at a place agreed upon. 
 
 Now, although I had said nothing about 
 
 17
 
 i8 CHECKERS 
 
 it, I had quite decided not to bet upon this 
 event. I had found the second race upon 
 which I had no bet infinitely more enjoy 
 able than the first, despite the good fortune 
 chance had thrust upon me ; and reason 
 ably so, I think, for with any kind of a 
 wager up one's interest naturally centers 
 in the performance of one horse, and the 
 beauty of the race, as a race, is to a great 
 extent lost sight of. 
 
 With something of this idea in mind, I 
 stood watching the frantic efforts of the 
 crowd to reach the betting stands, wonder 
 ing idly the while where all the money so 
 recklessly offered came from in these days 
 of universal hard times, when I was sud 
 denly accosted by an unknown youth who 
 asked to see my programme for a minute, 
 explaining at the same time that "some 
 guy had pinched his, coming through the 
 crowd." 
 
 I silently complied. 
 
 He studied the programme briefly, smiled 
 a satisfied smile, and returned it. 
 
 " There 's a good thing coming off in
 
 CHECKERS 19 
 
 the fourth," he remarked in a confidential 
 manner. "If I can see you somewhere 
 just before the race I '11 put you on. It '11 
 be a ' hot one.' " 
 
 I thanked him. 
 
 "The owner himself is going to 'put 
 me next,'" he continued; "it'll be a 
 Mead-pipe.'" 
 
 I began to be interested. " I should 
 like to know it," I replied, "and I will 
 wait for you after the Derby. I may 
 not bet on it myself, but I have a friend 
 who doubtless will, if you will give him 
 the information." 
 
 " I '11 give it to him if he '11 go down 
 the line, but it 's going to win a city block, 
 and we ought to make a killin' on it. 
 I went broke myself, on Senator Irby, or 
 I 'd have gone home to-night with a bank 
 roll." 
 
 "Well," I replied, "we '11 see when the 
 time comes. Now, what do you fancy to 
 win the Derby?" 
 
 He lighted a cigarette and puffed it a 
 moment in silence.
 
 20 CHECKERS 
 
 "It's a dead-tough race," he at lasv 
 remarked, "and I would n't play it with 
 counterfeit money. There 's no use in 
 playing any race unless you 've got some 
 information. These geezers that play every 
 race go broke. But it 's an easy game to 
 beat if you just stay off till you 're next to 
 something good, and then plug it hard. 
 Why, if I could shake the faro-bank and 
 crap-game, I 'd have money to burn ice 
 with. 
 
 "V see, take a big stake-race like this, 
 where every horse is a 'cracker- jack,' 
 they 're all of 'em good, and they 've all 
 got a chance, and you just take my advice 
 and stay off. We Ml have something good 
 in the fourth that we know, and we just 
 won't do a thing to it. Well, I must 
 hurry down to the paddocks to see a 
 stable boy I know ; if I hear anything I '11 
 come back and tell you. But be sure and 
 be here for the next with your friend, 
 'cause it 's all over now, but cashing the 
 ticket so long;" and he dodged away 
 through the crowd.
 
 CHECKERS 21 
 
 Oddly enough, it did not at the moment 
 strike me as in the least peculiar that I 
 should have been conversing on a basis ot 
 perfect equality with a companion of stable 
 boys and a frequenter of gambling hells. 
 Nothing further. 
 
 The spirit of easy, good-natured cama 
 raderie was in the very air; and in the 
 singleness of purpose which animated all 
 the picking of the winner all ranks seemed 
 leveled, all social barriers cast aside. 
 
 Again, he had proved in our few minutes' 
 talk a new, and to me an interesting, type; 
 and I resolved to keep the appointment, 
 if for nothing more than to study him 
 further. 
 
 He was a young man, certainly not over 
 twenty-three, short, slight, and becomingly 
 dressed. His face was thin, smooth-shaven 
 and red, but somehow peculiarly prepos 
 sessing. His deep blue eyes and long 
 black lashes might have atoned for much 
 less attractive features; and the lines which 
 ran from his well-shaped nose to the cor 
 ners of his clear cut lips suggested a hard
 
 12 CHECKERS 
 
 lived life which I afterwards learned did 
 not belie them. 
 
 A glance at my watch discovered the 
 fact that it lacked but a few minutes of rny 
 appointment with Murray, and I began to 
 slowly edge my way to the point of our 
 rendezvous. 
 
 I reached it promptly on the minute 
 and stood awaiting his tardy coming, when 
 suddenly my arm was grasped and I turned 
 to find my new acquaintance. 
 
 He was all excitement and breathing 
 hard, as though in the greatest possible 
 hurry. 
 
 " Come here," he said n a low quick 
 voice ; and he beckoned me into a quiet 
 corner. " I 've been looking for you every 
 where. Now listen a minute and do n't 
 ask questions; Domino's got a ' dickey ' 
 leg, and he won't be a thing but last. 
 Garrison tells me that Senator Grady is 
 going to win in a common canter. Richard 
 Croker 's in the ring, and the ' bookies ' 
 are swipin* it off the boards. Hurry and 
 get in with your money while there 's a
 
 CHECKERS 23 
 
 chance to get the odds;" arid he started 
 into the betting ring as though fully ex 
 pecting I would follow. 
 
 His manner was intensely earnest, and 
 his hurried words and furtive looks were 
 at once impressive and convincing. I felt 
 my latent sporting spirit rising strong 
 again, and I began the simple process of 
 arguing myself out of my former position. 
 
 Some Frenchman, I think, has some 
 where said, " A man is his own worst 
 sharper." However that is, in an argu 
 ment with one's self the other side is usually 
 silenced. And so it chanced that, a few 
 minutes later, I again held a penciled 
 ticket, which this time called for $60 to be 
 paid in the event of certain contingencies, 
 and for which I had given $20 of my 
 former winnings. I had also given my 
 Mentor an extra five to bet for the boy from 
 whom he had received such timely and 
 valuable information. 
 
 Such reckless plunging I can only ex 
 cuse upon the grounds of having been 
 forced into it; for not the least of this ver-
 
 24 CHECKERS 
 
 fcatile youth's many and varied gifts was 
 the power, not uncommon amongst waiters 
 and shop-keepers, of shaming his whilom 
 client out of anything approaching petti 
 ness, by the assumption of that air of 
 blended superiority and indifference we 
 have all felt the force of at times. 
 
 I had drawn forth my roll with the 
 laudable intention of chancing a two or 
 perhaps a five, when I was met with the 
 startling proposition that I " bet fifty each 
 way, to win and for place," and this was 
 followed by so convincing an array of fig 
 ures, weights, times and distances, that a 
 compromise of $20 to win, and a five-dol 
 lar bet for the boy, " who could n't leave 
 the paddocks, but had been promised that 
 the right thing would be done by him," 
 seemed the least I could do, consistent 
 with my dignity and self-respect. 
 
 And now to hurry back to Murray. We 
 found him standing watch in hand, and he 
 began to smile when he saw my com 
 panion. 
 
 " Well! well! " he exclaimed fr a banter-
 
 CHECKERS 25 
 
 ing tone; " so you 've fallen a prey to 
 Checkers, have you? What loser has he 
 touted you onto, that 's ' going to win in 
 a walk, hands down' ? " 
 
 'Now, there's a guy that makes ms 
 sick," interrupted Checkers, ignoring the 
 question. "Because he dropped a couple of 
 ' bones ' not long ago at the Harlem track, 
 he made a roar that 's echoing still between 
 this and the Rocky Mountains. The next 
 time I saw him I gave him a 'good thing ' 
 he could have win out on, but he would n't 
 touch it. He don't know the right way 
 around the track. The book-makers call 
 him ' Ready-Money ' he 's so easy." 
 
 "Come off now, Checkers," laughed 
 Murray, "you know you never guess 'em 
 right ; the only time your horses win is 
 when the others all fall down. But really, 
 ]ack, what did you play ? " 
 
 " I 'm playing Senator Grady, Murray j 
 oar friend here told me he could n't lose." 
 
 "Well, he may be r'giiV said Murray 
 thoughtfully, "but I 'm not playing the race 
 that way. Domino first, and Despot third,
 
 26 CHECKERS 
 
 is the way I figure it ought to come. Gracty 
 I think will get the place, but the odds are 
 better on Despot for third. Well, let's go 
 up in the grand-stand now, and see them 
 all parade to the post." 
 
 We chanced to find a place for three, in 
 the seats almost opposite the judges' 
 stand, for I had taken Checkers with me 
 for the pleasure I found in hearing him 
 talk. 
 
 As yet I had n't made up my mind about 
 Checkers, and I was anxious to question 
 Murray privately conceining him. He 
 certainly did not look like a " tout," for 
 the meaning of the word as applied to that 
 genus now came to me. Rather, he seemed 
 to be playing a fantastic role. He played 
 it well, I confess, but there was a whimsical 
 air about all that he said and did which 
 puzzled me greatly. His slang, however, 
 was natural. Of that there could be no 
 doubt, and he used it with a native grace, 
 a varied inflection and appositeness which 
 made it seem a part of him, and therefore 
 robbed it of objection.
 
 CHECKERS 27 
 
 In fact I afterwards discovered, and I 
 grew to know him very well, that in all his 
 slang there was a pertinence which took a 
 short cut to the gist of things ; a humor, 
 dry and sometimes broad, but never vulgar, 
 and seldom profane. 
 
 The bugle calling the horses to the post 
 sounded soon after we took our seats, and 
 shortly they began to appear parading in 
 order past the grand-stand. 
 
 Domino, Dorian and Senator Grady, the 
 three eastern horses, favorites in the bet 
 ting, were cheered as they passed to the 
 very echo; while others of the eight had 
 their many supporters, who had backed 
 their belief with some share of their wealth, 
 at longer and much more interesting odds. 
 
 "There's the baby '11 get the dough," 
 said Checkers, as Senator Grady passed. 
 " He' s the finest that ever came over the 
 pike. How on earth are they going to beat 
 him?" 
 
 I glanced at Murray, who simply smiled 
 and fixed his eyes upon Domino. 
 
 The horses were soon lined up for the
 
 28 CHECKERS 
 
 start, and after three or four attempts, the 
 starter caught them well in motion, drop 
 ped the flag, and the race was "off." 
 
 " Domino in the lead," laughed Murray. 
 " I hope he keeps it all around." 
 
 Checkers was muttering under his breath 
 some words of well, disapprobation. 
 
 " Now look at that start and burst out 
 cryin'," he groaned in a bitter tone. 
 " Grady absolutely last, and Domino gets 
 off in front. That starter never was any 
 good ; talk about his startin ' a race, why ! 
 that bloke could n't start a fire;" and he 
 lighted another cigarette by way of partial 
 consolation. 
 
 The horses were nearing the grand-stand 
 now, which was for them the half-mile 
 post, for the race was to be a mile and one- 
 half, or once and one-half around the track. 
 
 Their positions had changed since the 
 drop of the flag, for as they passed us Al- 
 cenor led, Resplendent was second, Prince 
 Carl third, and Senator Grady was now a 
 good fourth. 
 
 "Say! girls, look at Grady," yelled
 
 CHECKERS i Q 
 
 Checkers excitedly. "Why, he'll back in 
 by twenty lengths. There's the place to 
 have him laying, third or fourth, till they 
 hit the stretch ; then Garrison will cut him 
 loose, and beat 'em all in a grand-stand 
 finish. Those dogs in front can 't hold 
 that pace ; they '11 throw up their tails and 
 quit at a mile;" and Checkers puffed the 
 cigarette between his yellow, smoke-stained 
 fingers, with a look of placid unconcern 
 which I myself was far from feeling. 
 
 Suddenly he jumped to his feet with an 
 exclamation of surprise. Grady had sud 
 denly gone to the front as though the 
 others were standing still, and it looked as 
 Ihough his jockey, Garrison, intended to 
 make it a runaway race. At the mile he 
 led by a length and a half, and it seemed 
 to me he would surely win. 
 
 The crowds in their intense excitement 
 bustled and buzzed like so many bees. Cries 
 of "Grady!" filled the air, and thousands 
 yelled in frenzied glee. I confess I lost my 
 self-control and whooped as loudly as anj 
 one.
 
 3 o CHECKERS 
 
 "D 'ye see," said Checkers, " that 's what 
 it is to have reliable information. Talk 
 about Domino's winning, why, he can't 
 beat a fat man up a hill;" and he cast a 
 pitying glance at Murray, and climbed on 
 tos seat for a better view. 
 
 Across the level stretch of greensward the 
 horses looked almost like playthings. Up 
 the back stretch on they went, with Grady 
 now a length in front. The others were 
 rapidly closing up, and the final struggle was 
 soon to begin. At the further turn it seemed 
 to me they slackened up for a breathing 
 spell; but on they came again faster and 
 faster, with Grady but half a length in front. 
 
 The noisy chatter suddenly ceased and 
 an interested silence fell upon all. My 
 heart was beating a wild tattoo. I felt as 
 though I were burning up. 
 
 Murray was wholly occupied in helping 
 Domino along, by calling his name in a low, 
 quick voice, and energetically snapping his 
 fingers (a process commonly known as 
 " pulling," and thought by the cult to be 
 efficacious).
 
 CHECKERS 31 
 
 I glanced at Checkers. Disappointment 
 was clearly written across his face. 
 
 "We 're up against it," he said despond 
 ently. " Garrison 's give us the double- 
 cross. He had no business settin' the pace. 
 There 's some one going after him now. 
 Go on, you Grady 1 Wiggle yourself / 
 They 've collared him 1 They 're passing 
 him ! " And sure enough some fleet- 
 limbed bay was drawing ahead of our 
 beautiful brown in a way that left us little 
 hope of ever getting in front again. 
 
 Around the turn and into the stretch, 
 nearer they raced in a cloud of dust. The 
 leader was gaining at every jump, but 
 Giady hung to second place. Taral now 
 called upon Domino, and at once the colt 
 responded gamely. But his time had gone, 
 and the gallant horse that never before had 
 lost a race fell back with the others, hope 
 lessly beaten, and Taral, seeing that all 
 was lost, pulled up and galloped slowly 
 in. Martin on Despot came out of the 
 bunch, and, passing Prince Carl, set sail 
 for Grady, while Garrison, riding as though
 
 32 CHECKERS 
 
 for his life, made every effort to hold his 
 own. 
 
 Within one hundred yards of the wire 
 the leader had six lengths to spare. His 
 jockey was riding in leisurely fashion, 
 glancing around from time to time, to 
 watch the struggle that Despot was making 
 to wrest the place from Senator Grady. 
 
 Whipping and spurring they thundered 
 past us, fighting it out to the finishing 
 post. By it they flashed, the bay horse 
 first, Grady second and Despot third. Gar 
 rison's riding had saved him the place, but 
 the race had been won by "a rank outsider." 
 
 For a moment or two the crowd was 
 silent dumb with surprise and disap 
 pointment. Few, if any, cheered the 
 winner; thousands inwardly cursed the 
 favorites. 
 
 Quickly the word was passed along, 
 " Rey El Santa Anita wins." 
 
 " Lucky Baldwin's horse," said Checkers. 
 " The odds were an easy fifty to one. 
 Grady second I D 'ye see, if you 'd have 
 played him for place as I wanted you
 
 CHECKERS 33 
 
 to, we *d have saved our stake. But you 
 would n't 'thaw out,' and now your ticket 's 
 a souvenir. We 'd have win as it was with 
 a good boy up. That settles Garrison for 
 me. There 's a jockey that ought to be 
 driving cows instead of riding a sprinter 
 like Grady, and pumping him out in the 
 first three-quarters. Domino last! That 
 'good thing.' Well, I knew from the start 
 that he was a ' lobster.' " 
 
 Murray flushed up. " Well, any way, I 
 won on Despot for third," he said, "enough 
 to put me ahead on the race, and cover 
 your losing on Grady, Jack. But, Jove, 
 what a harvest the bookies have reaped. 
 There were thousands of dollars bet on 
 Domino and the other favorites, and there 
 probably were n't a dozen bets in all on 
 Rey El Santa Anita. It 's a terrible thing 
 this gambling, Jack, when you come to 
 look it square in the face. Just think of 
 the money gone to swell the pile of a lot 
 of miserable gamblers, aod think of the 
 poor deluded mortals who play this game 
 day after day, constant in the fatuous
 
 34 CHECKERS 
 
 hope of some day making a brilliant coup, 
 and squaring themselves on their years 
 of losing. Fortune 'jollies' them along 
 with temporary small successes, and having 
 gained their confidence proceeds to throw 
 them down the harder. Disappointment 
 misery, embezzlement, suicide, follow it all 
 as effect follows cause and still the game 
 goes on." 
 
 " Well, anyway, I 'm glad we touched 
 them, and we '11 take good care that they 
 do n't get it back. By Jove, it 's nearly 4 
 o'clock. I 'm afraid we ought to be go 
 ing, Jack. It 's a long drive in, and recol 
 lect we have a date for dinner to-night. 
 Come on, I '11 cash this Despot ticket, and 
 then we '11 make a start for home." 
 
 "Home! "exclaimed Checkers. "You're 
 not going home? Why this is the race 
 I 've been waiting for. You do n't want to 
 miss a lunch like this. It 's a puddin'; it 's 
 a tapioca. Honest, it 's a regular gift; the 
 chance of your life to make a ' killin'." 
 
 But to all his entreaties we lent a deaf 
 ear though he talked with a masterful elo-
 
 CHECKERS 35 
 
 quence. I confess, however, to one more 
 weakness. I gave him a ten which he 
 swore to return. (Murray was standing in 
 line with his ticket.) He said he would 
 "play it carefully, and gradually win him 
 self out of the hole." I felt at the time 
 that I was aj'sucker," but somehow he had 
 a persuasive way.
 
 Ill 
 
 A number of weeks had come and gone 
 ere I again laid eyes upon Checkers, and 
 then it chanced most unexpectedly. 
 
 I had stayed at my office late one even 
 ing, finishing up some odd jobs which I 
 had allowed to accumulate. The additional 
 work and the lateness of the hour lent a 
 keen edge to my appetite, and I decided 
 to dine down town and perhaps drop into 
 one of the theaters. 
 
 As I hastened along on my way to Kins 
 ley's (I am not a member of the down-town 
 clubs) a figure stepped out of a neighbor 
 ing doorway, and brushed against me in 
 passing. It was Checkers. I knew him at 
 once. But I gave no s; G n of recognition 
 and hoped to escape him unobserved. A 
 futile hope, for he knew me as quickly, and 
 in an instant was by my side. 
 36
 
 CHECKERS 37 
 
 "Why, Mr. Preston," he exclaimed grab 
 bing and shaking my passive hand. " Say, 
 on the dead, I 'm glad to see you; why is 
 it you have n't been out to the track? I 've 
 had ' something good ' nearly every day. 
 I wish I had seen you an hour ago. I 've 
 been playing ' the bank,' and they 've 
 cleaned me flat. They say that 's the 
 squarest game on earth, but the cards do 
 run dead wrong for me. Where you going 
 to eat? Well, say, as the tramp says, 
 'Me stomach tinks me troat's cut.' Back 
 me against a supper, will you? It 's a 
 hundred to one I get the best of it." And 
 so he rattled on and on, never waiting for 
 his questions to be answered, careless and 
 slangy as ever. 
 
 As I turned into Kinsley's I hesitated, 
 as to whether simply to dismiss him 
 straight, or to give him a dollar and tell 
 him to go and satisfy his evident hunger. 
 He saw me pause and read my thoughts, 
 but he did not propose thus to be dis 
 posed of. 
 
 "Come on," he said, starting quickly
 
 38 CHECKERS 
 
 ahead and entering the elevator. "We 're 
 going up to the cafe", ain't we?" 
 
 I was greatly minded to turn on my heel 
 and tell him to go to the deuce, if he chose. 
 But his manner was wholly ingenuous, and 
 "after all," I said to myself, "I'm tired 
 and he 's amusing. It 's something after 
 8 o'clock and no one will be here at such 
 an hour." At all events I disliked a scene, 
 and so I simply acquiesced, and took him 
 to a quiet corner of the large dining-room, 
 where I seated myself in such a way as to 
 have my back to whomsoever might come 
 in. 
 
 Without consulting the taste of my 
 guest, I ordered a steak with mushrooms, 
 potatoes, a salad, dessert and a bottle of 
 claret, and began to read the evening 
 paper. 
 
 For perhaps ten minutes we both were 
 silent. I glanced at Checkers several 
 times as I folded my paper in or out. He 
 seemed to be lost in a reverie. But at last 
 his thoughts came back to earth, and glanc 
 ing up he said very softly, "The last time
 
 CHECKERS 39 
 
 I took supper here was with my wife a year 
 ago." 
 
 " Your wife," I exclaimed, starting with 
 surprise. " You do n't mean to tell me 
 you have a wife? " 
 
 " I had a wife," he answered sorrow 
 fully, "but " 
 
 " I beg you pardon, Checkers," I said, 
 " I hope I have n't hurt your feelings." 
 
 " No, you have n't hurt them," he re 
 plied. "I 've got my feelings educated. 
 I 've had so many ups and downs I 've 
 learned to take my medicine. But I '11 bet 
 I 've had the toughest luck of any guy that 
 ever lived. A year ago I had money, a 
 wife and friends, and was doing the Van- 
 derbilt act. In two short weeks I lost them 
 all. I 've been ' on my rollers' ever since. 
 
 " But say, you wouldn't have known me if 
 you'd seen me here with my wife that time 
 my glad rags on, a stove-pipe lid, patent 
 leather kicks and a stone on my front. We 
 came to Chicago to take in the Fair, and 
 dropped in here to eat, one night. 
 
 "We sat at that table over there; I re-
 
 40 CHECKERS 
 
 member it as though it was yesterday. 1 
 ordered all kinds of supper, and at last the 
 waiter brings in some cheese and crackers. 
 It was a kind of a greenish, mouldy cheese 
 . Rocquefort! Yes, I believe that 's it. I 
 goes against a little piece of it, and ' on 
 the grave,' I like to fainted. Good! Well, 
 maybe you think it's good, but scratch 
 your Uncle Dudley out of any race where 
 they enter Rocquefort. 
 
 "Yes ; those were happy days for me. I 
 hate to think about them now. I had a 
 good time while it lasted, though, and when 
 they got me ' on the tram,' I had to go to 
 hustlin'. Well, here comes supper. Excuse 
 me now, while I get busy with a piece of 
 that steak." 
 
 " But, Checkers," I expostulated, " I 'd 
 like to hear the particulars. You must 
 have an interesting story to tell. And if 
 you don't mind " 
 
 "Oh, I don't know. It's a hard luck 
 story. I've had the hot end of it most of 
 my life. But you can see for yourself that 
 I'm no 'scrub.' I come from good
 
 CHECKERS 41 
 
 people, and I 've lived with good people. 
 I can put up a parlor talk, or a bar-room 
 talk. I 've seen it all. But of course when 
 a fellow 'hits the toboggan,' he gets to 
 going down mighty fast." 
 
 " I appreciate all that, my boy " I said, 
 "or I shouldn't have brought you here ; 
 and now if you will, while we are eating 
 our dinner, give me a little sketch of how 
 it all happened." 
 
 "Well, there isn't very much to tell as I 
 know of at least, anything that would in 
 terest you. To look back now it kind of 
 seems as though things just pushed them 
 selves along. 
 
 "You see, in the first place, my father 
 and Uncle Giles, his brother, both fought 
 in the war. Well, father got shot and came 
 home a cripple. About ten years after 
 wards I was born. Then father died, and 
 mother got a pension. She had some little 
 money besides. After the war Uncle Giles 
 came back and hung around our house. 
 He was 'flat,' and he couldn't get a job. 
 But he finally got some pension-shirk tc,
 
 42 CHECKERS 
 
 push a pension through for him, arid after 
 that he ' pulled his freight ' and went to 
 Baltimore to live. Mother and I stayed 
 here in Chicago. 
 
 "Well, I went to school until I was 
 twelve, and then I went to work in a store. 
 Mother's health was very bad, though, and 
 at last we went South on account of 
 her lungs. We went to San Antonio, and 
 at first the air kind of did her good. I 
 gets a job in a dry goods store, and things 
 are rollin' pretty smooth, when one night 
 mother takes to coughing, has a hemor 
 rhage and dies. 
 
 "There's no use trying to tell you my 
 feelings. Mother was dead and I was 
 alone. There was hardly a soul to come 
 to her funeral. The minister and a few 
 of the neighbors came in my God, it was 
 simply awful. I was still a kid, only fifteen, 
 you see, and I felt the terrible lonesome- 
 ness of it. 
 
 "Well, mother had saved considerable 
 money twenty-six hundred dollars in all. 
 I sold our furniture and came to Chicago,
 
 CHECKERS 43 
 
 and went to board with some friends of the 
 family. I worked more or less for two or 
 three years; but my money made me kind 
 of ' flossy,' and whenever I 'd feel like it, 
 I 'd just throw up the job and quit. 
 
 " After a while I got so I did n't try to 
 work. I fell in with a gang of sports that 
 used to hang around the pool-rooms, and 
 pretty soon 'your littleWillie' was losing his 
 money right and left. The local meeting 
 came along, and I took to going out to 
 the track. I was nearly broke when one 
 day a tout tried to ' get me down ' on a 
 'good thing' he had. I told him I 
 would n't play it, but I afterwards shook 
 him and put twenty on it I 'm a goat if 
 it did n't win, and I pulled down a thou 
 sand. I looked for the guy who gave me 
 the tip, but I could n't find him anywhere. 
 I guess he fell dead with surprise himself 
 at least I 've never seen him since. 
 
 " Now, about that time, I had to quit the 
 family I was living with. They broke up 
 housekeeping and moved away, leaving me 
 on a cold, cold world. After that I did
 
 44 CHECKERS 
 
 nothing but play the races. I followed 
 them from town to town St. Louis, 
 Louisville, Cincinnati, New Orleans win 
 ning a little now and then, but up against 
 it most of the time. 
 
 " I got the malaria down south, and I 
 took a notion I 'd go to Hot Springs. You 
 ever been there ? No ? Well say, you 
 talk about your sportin* life there is the 
 onliest place to see it. Every kind of a 
 gamblin' game you ever heard of runnin' 
 wide and everybody goes against 'em. 
 
 "I had heard that some of the games 
 were crooked, and I thought I 'd be foxy 
 and leave them alone. I left my leather 
 full of bills with the clerk up in the hotel safe. 
 
 " A little more potato, please. Thanks, 
 I am hungry, and that 's no dream. 
 
 "Well, as I was saying, one day at the 
 bath I meets a young guy in the cooling- 
 room, and he springs a system to beat rou 
 lette, which figures out a mortal cinch. I 
 don't remember the system now, but I 
 recollect we tried it ourselves on a private 
 rheel, and it could n't lose The onl?
 
 CHECKERS 45 
 
 trouble with it was that with luck against 
 us we might get soaked in doubling up be 
 fore we win. But we made up our minds 
 to begin it small, and be content with a 
 little profit. 
 
 "We had a bank-roll of $600 four from 
 me and two from him. I was to have two- 
 thirds of the profits, because I risked two 
 thirds of the stuff. 
 
 " It was Thursday night we set to try it. 
 Thursday was always my Jonah day. I 
 wanted to wait until Saturday, but he 
 did n't want to wait that long. I was to 
 do the playing while he kept tab and told 
 me what to do each whirl. 
 
 " Well, we buys a stack of a hundred 
 chips, and runs them up to two hundred 
 and fifty. I says, ' let 's quit,' but he was 
 stuck on pushing our luck while it came 
 our way. We played along for half' an 
 hour, and hardly varied $50; then, all at 
 once, we 'struck the slide,' and I had to 
 buy another stack. We lost that; bought 
 another and lost it, and stood in the hole 
 300.
 
 46 CHECKERS 
 
 " All the while we were playing the sys 
 tem, and I had a ' hunch ' that if we kept 
 on it would pull us out. So I starts to buy 
 another stack when Kendall his name 
 was Arthur Kendall stops me and says 
 he wants to quit. Quit, with half our 
 money gone! I was so sore I could have 
 smashed him. And while we stood there 
 arguing, without a nickel on the board, the 
 wheel was rollin' dead our way enough 
 to have put us ahead of the game. 
 
 " I gave him his hundred, and told him 
 to 'take it and chase himself I was 
 through with him. I stuck to the game 
 until five in the morning. They got every 
 cent I had in the world. 
 
 " Well, I went to the hotel and went to 
 bed, but I lay there wondering how I was 
 going to dig up the money to pay my bill, 
 and give me a start when my luck turned 
 again. The longer I wondered the tougher 
 it seemed. Finally I ordered an absinthe 
 frappg it kind of gave me a new idea. 
 I M put up a song to my Uncle Giles, and 
 try *~> make a little ' touch.'
 
 CHECKERS 47 
 
 " I had n't seen or heard of him for hall 
 a dozen years, but I thought after all. we 
 had done for him, he could n't hardly lay 
 down on his nephew. 
 
 "Well, I wrote him a letter that would 
 have brought tears to a pair of glass 
 eyes. Say, it was the literary effort of 
 my life. Of course, I did n't just stick to 
 the facts. Then I goes down and gets me a 
 little breakfast, and begins to feel like my 
 self again. 
 
 " This was Friday. Saturday my hotel 
 bill was coming due. I had to make a 
 killin' somehow to get my trunk and clothes 
 away. 
 
 " I chased myself from joint to joint, 
 out I could n't get next to anything. There 
 was n't a thing I could hock nor no one 
 that I could 'give the borry.' Have you 
 ever been flat broke, Mr. Preston, with not 
 a nickel in your jeans; no one to stake 
 you; no place to go, and nothing to keep 
 you from starving to death? You haven't, 
 eh? Well, then you do n't begin to know 
 what trouble is. You feel as though every
 
 48 CHECKERS 
 
 one had you ' sized,' or as though you 
 were going to be arrested. You can't 
 help thinking about the stuff you blew so 
 reckless when you were flush the night 
 you got out and spent a hundred, and say, 
 if you only had it now! You take a para 
 lyzed oath on your mother that if you ever 
 get right again you'll ' salt your stuff ' and 
 be a ' tight-wad ' and then you remember 
 you 're broke again. I 've been up against 
 some dead tough luck, and I 've had some 
 fancy crimps put in me, but somehow I 've 
 never felt so ' on my uppers ' as I did at 
 the Springs that night. 
 
 " Say, if this hard-luck story of mine gets 
 tiresome to you, ring me off. I didn't 
 think I 'd be so long in getting to where 
 my troubles began." 
 
 I assured him that I felt the tale im 
 mensely interesting, as indeed I did, not 
 only in its mere detail, but taken in 
 connection with the youth who sat there, 
 telling me his story in his naive way, as 
 unconcerned as though he had the Bank 
 of England to draw upon. With not a
 
 CHECKERS 49 
 
 penny in his pocket, or for aught I knew 
 a place to sleep, it certainly seemed that, 
 with the sparrows, he leaned most heavily 
 on Providence. 
 
 " Let 's have the rest of it, Checkers,"; 
 I said ; " I 'm anxious to hear how you 
 raised the wind." 
 
 He sipped his coffee and puffed his 
 cigarette with a retrospective air, inhaling 
 the smoke at every draught, or blowing it 
 forth in little rings which he watched as 
 they circled off into space. 
 
 I waited in silence. 
 
 " Well," he continued, " it was nothing 
 but 'gallop on after the torch.' About 
 10 o'clock I blew into a joint, that I had n't 
 been to a gambling house. There was 
 a gang around the faro-bank, and I 
 shoved in to see what was going on. I 
 hope I may drop if Kendall was n't sitting 
 there, howling, paralyzed full. He had a 
 lot of chips in front of him, playin' 'em 
 like a drunken sailor. He had down bets 
 all over the board, and, honest, it gave me 
 heart Disease to see him play. He puts a
 
 50 CHECKERS 
 
 stack on the ace to win. In a minute 01 
 two another player coppers it, and takes it 
 down. I jumps in and grabs him by the arm. 
 'Hold on,' I hollered, 'Arthur, here's a 
 piker that 's touchin' you for your chips.' 
 
 " Say, there was trouble right away. The 
 piker made a smash at me. I dodged and 
 caught him an upper cut, and the bouncer 
 grabbed him and threw him out. This sort 
 of sobered Arthur up, and for a while he 
 played 'em ' cagey.' I goes over by him, 
 and puts up a bluff to the gang that I 'm 
 a friend of his. You see I wanted to get 
 him out before they got his money away. 
 It was a ' pipe ' he 'd lose it all the minute 
 his luck turned. But as long as I was n't 
 playing myself, I knew I 'd better not get 
 too gay, but I watched his bets, and stacked 
 his chips, and saw that no one pinched his 
 sleepers. 
 
 " Well, every few minutes he 'd call for 
 a drink, and what do you think he was 1 
 drinking ? Sherry. Did you ever get a 
 jag on sherry ? Well, neither did I, but it 
 gives you a ' beaut.' Arthur had a ' carry
 
 CHECKERS 51 
 
 over ' that lasted him for about three days. 
 He 'd slap his chips down any old place. 
 It was the funniest thing you ever saw. 
 But he was playing in drunken luck, and I 
 let him do what he wanted to. 
 
 "Well, to make a long story short, I 
 finally 'cashed him in' for $200. I got 
 him into a hack, and took him to my 
 room. But say, when I got that boy un 
 dressed and abed and asleep, I '11 tell you 
 like these : I was just three minutes ahead 
 of a fit, and the fit was gaining on me fast. 
 I had to take a couple of absinthes be 
 fore I could get myself together. But you 
 ought to have seen Kendall in the morn 
 ing He had a horrible 'sorry' on. The 
 wheels were buzzing around in his head 
 until I believe if he 'd have put his fingers 
 in his ears, they 'd have been cut off I do 
 on the square. He could n't remember it 
 thing he 'd done, except that he started out 
 on a 'sandy' after he left me playing rou 
 lette the night before, you recollect, and 
 he got a ' package ' aboard that he ought 
 to have made at least two trips for.
 
 52 CHECKERS 
 
 " I gave him his money, and told 
 where I found him, and how I saved it 
 for him, and he began to cry like a baby. 
 You see his nerves were all to pieces. He 
 wanted me to take him home; nothing 
 would do but he must go home. He felt 
 too rocky to go alone, and besides he 
 could n't trust himself. He begged me 
 for God's sake not to leave him or he 'd 
 get full again, or shoot himself. 
 
 " I found out afterward that he had sol 
 emnly promised his girl that he 'd never 
 get drunk again. That 's what it was that 
 gave him that awful 'sorry.' You know 
 how it is when you love a girl. While 
 you 're with her it seems dead easy to live 
 decent, and do what 's right, and you 
 promise anything. Then some day you 
 get out, with the gang and 'fall,' and the 
 next morning R. E. Morse is sitting up on 
 the edge of your bed giving you the hor 
 rible ha ha. 
 
 "Well, anyhow, I finally agreed to take 
 him home. He lived in Clarksville, Ark. 
 He gave me the roll to pay our bills with
 
 CHECKERS 53 
 
 and buy the tickets and one thing and 
 another, while he went down to the bath 
 to boil out. But say, the hardest job 
 of my life was not to ' pinch ' that coin 
 and ' duck.' It was mine by rights. He 'd 
 never have kept it if I had n't jumped in 
 and saved it for him. But, thank God, I 
 can say one thing, I never stole a cent in 
 my life. I may have separated three or 
 four guys from their stuff, perhaps, at dif* 
 ferent times ; but they always got a run 
 for their money, and if they dropped it it 
 was n't my fault So I just could n't bring 
 myself to do it. And I was thankful after 
 wards that I did n't. 
 
 " The happiest year I ever had came to 
 me on account of that trip and the un- 
 happiest. But I would n't give up the 
 pleasant memories if I had to go through 
 twice the troubles again. 
 
 " ' The banister of life is full of slivers/ 
 as old man Bradley used to say, and when 
 a fellow ' hits the slide,' he 's apt to pick 
 up a splinter or two. But I '11 tell you, if 
 you've only got some happy times that
 
 54 CHECKERS 
 
 you 've had with your mother or sisters, 
 your wife, or your girl, to look back to and 
 think about, when you 're in hard luck, it 's 
 a kind of a bracer, and saves your life " 
 
 He suddenly stopped. I followed his 
 gaze, and turning around saw Murray and 
 three other friends coming toward me. I 
 felt it an ill-timed interruption; but I 
 ordered cigars and liquid refreshments, 
 and introduced, all but Murray, to Mr. 
 Edward Campbell, which I had learned 
 was the proper name of my little friend. 
 
 I was needed, Murray explained, " to 
 make the fifth man in some game of theirs 
 which could not be played to advantage 
 with less; " and knowing that I was to 
 work late, they had taken a chance of find 
 ing me here. 
 
 In vain I begged to be excused, plead 
 ing indisposition, the lateness of the hour, 
 anything and everything which might have 
 served to drive them off. But " the even 
 ing was young," " the table was ready," 
 and I " ought to be accommodating," and 
 so I said good bye to Checkers, and slip-
 
 CHECKERS 55 
 
 ping him a dollar, told him to come to my 
 office next day, and I would talk with him 
 of another matter. 
 
 He thanked me, saying he would be 
 there, and shaking my hand, bid us all 
 good night. Then tiptoeing back he 
 whispered in my ear: "Say, I want to 
 give you a little advice: Never come in 
 on less than jacks, and never raise a one- 
 card draw, unless you've got a 'pat* 
 yourself. If you stick to that you'll have 
 the coin when the rest of the gang are ' on 
 the tram.' "
 
 IV 
 
 The following morning at about 10 
 o -dock Checkers sauntered into my office; 
 his hands in his pockets; his hat on the 
 back of his head; smoking the ubiquitous 
 cigarette. 
 
 I was busy at the time with my morn 
 ing's mail. 
 
 Picking up the daily paper he tilted 
 back comfortably in a chair, and interested 
 himself in the sporting news. 
 
 " Well, Checkers," I said, when at last I 
 had finished, " How are you this morning, 
 my boy?" 
 
 " If I felt any better I could n't stand 
 it," he answered, throwing down the paper. 
 ' But you do n't look very fit. How did 
 you come out with the boys last night? " 
 
 " About even," I replied, deprecatorily. 
 
 He smiled in a most exasperating way. 
 56
 
 CHECKERS 57 
 
 "Now I'll tell you," he said growing 
 suddenly confidential. "There's a 'hox 
 thing ' coming off to-day, and I want yoi> 
 to put a swell bet on it. They've been 
 laying dead with it all the meeting pulled , 
 his head off his last two outs but to-da)i 
 they 've got him in a good soft spot, and 
 they 're going to ' put it over the plate.' '* 
 
 " Checkers," I said, " I want you to 
 understand, once and for all, that I am no 
 gambler. I went to the races Derby Day, 
 as I would go to any other show, and now 
 and then I play a little quarter limit game 
 with my friends. But even that 1 do n't 
 approve of. I tell you I consider gambling 
 the most insidious of all the vices, and it 's 
 on just that point that I want to talk to you. 
 
 " I want you to give up that kind of life, 
 get a position in some good house, and 
 begin to make a man of yourself. I tell 
 you you 're too bright a boy to be throw 
 ing yourself away as you are. Suppose 
 your 'good thing' wins to-day suppose 
 you do make some money on it you will 
 lose it on something else to- morrow. You
 
 5 CHECKERS 
 
 are simply living from hand to mouth^ 
 growing older every day with nothing to 
 show for the time you have spent. 
 
 " Now, what I propose is simply this. I 
 shall look about among all my friends in 
 the wholesale lines, and try to find you a 
 position where you can learn some busi 
 ness from the beginning. If you are in 
 dustrious and quick it will be but a com 
 paratively short time when you '11 have a 
 chance to go on the road, or something of 
 that sort. Now, what do you say? " , 
 
 I can't say that Checkers seemed wholly 
 delighted. He looked anywhere but into 
 my eyes and finally said he " would like a 
 job, but he did n't believe I could get him 
 one." 
 
 I replied that I was sure I could, as my 
 uncle was a wholesale dry-goods merchant, 
 and I had several friends who were heads 
 of departments in other large stores of 
 various kinds. 
 
 " Well, we '11 try it and see," he said re 
 signedly, " but I '11 tell you just about how 
 it is. A guy goes into a wholesale house
 
 CHECKERS 59 
 
 and he starts at the bottom in some de 
 partment. He gets up at the break of day, 
 and he works like the devil after a Chris 
 tian. If he has good luck he do n't get 
 'fired,' but he never gets a raise on earth, 
 unless the mug above him dies, or breaks 
 down his health and has to quit. 
 
 " Why, I knew a joker who worked in a 
 certain big store in this town for fifteen 
 years. He lived somewhere way out in the 
 suburbs, and he told me he had to get 
 down so early, that when he was coming 
 home at night he used to meet himself 
 starting down in the morning. Well, one 
 day some one gave him a pass to the Har 
 lem track one Saturday afternoon. He 
 went to the races for the first time in his 
 life. I got ahold of him and made him 
 win three hundred dollars with a five-dollai 
 bill, and you ought to have heard the talk 
 he put up. ' Has this game been going on 
 all this time,' he says, ' with me doing the 
 Rip Van Winkle act ? Why, I 'd be w.erth 
 all kinds of money now, if I 'd had any 
 sense.' And Monday he went down and
 
 *> CHECKERS 
 
 threw up his job, and started in to play the 
 ponies. Of course he went broke, but not 
 long ago he struck a streak, and made a 
 killin*. He started in to making a book, 
 and now he 's got a stable with five good 
 sprinters, and a twenty thousand dollar 
 bank-roll. If he had stuck to his job in 
 that store, he 'd have probably had nervous 
 prostration by this time." 
 
 " But the case you cite, Checkers, is one 
 in a thousand," I said, smiling broadly in 
 spite of myself. " While that one man may 
 have made a success of a very questionable 
 sort through unusual luck, or unusual 
 shrewdness, there have numberless others 
 gone to ruin utter, irretrievable ruin, by 
 giving way to their passion for gambling. 
 
 " If you object to a wholesale house, 1 
 may perhaps find something else for you 
 to do. But it seems to me to be simply a 
 shame that a boy of your ability and brains 
 should be content to be nothing but a tout, 
 and herd with the riff-raff and scum oi 
 creation. Now, once and for all, if yoi 
 desire to better yourself, I shall be glad W
 
 CHECKERS 01 
 
 help you ; but otherwise I must simply re 
 fuse to have you about me any longer. 
 Think it over and come in to-morrow, and 
 tell me your decision. Now, you must ex 
 cuse me as I have an engagement with thL 7 
 gentleman," and I turned to greet a friend 
 whose timely arrival saved me from the 
 "touch" which I could see Checkers was 
 nerving himself to make. 
 
 I found however that to secure an im 
 mediate position for my prote'ge' was a 
 much more difficult matter than I had at 
 rirst imagined. I spoke to a dozen differ 
 ent people. Most of them assured me that 
 /hey already had more help than they had 
 need of. Others needed no one now, but 
 thought they might in a month or two, 
 My uncle said that " for my sake he would 
 try to make a place for my friend." But 
 when I told him all the facts, he shook his 
 head and looked very dubious. 
 
 Meanwhile at frequent intervals, Check 
 ers would drop into my office, and chat of 
 the happenings of other days, or tell me 
 of his present doings. It seemed to me.
 
 62 CHECKERS 
 
 as I often told him, that if he would only 
 exercise one-half the thought and ingenu 
 ity in the pursuit of something legitimate 
 that he used in " separating the angels he 
 got next to from tneir gold," he would 
 long since have achieved a fortune. 
 
 He delighted in telling of the successful 
 working of some new scheme he had 
 figured out for the trapping of the unwary. 
 And at each recital I used to marvel at the 
 boundless credulity of the average human. 
 
 But whenever I could I would start him 
 off upon some incident in his former life. 
 In the story of his boyish courtship, the 
 trials he underwent in securing his wife, 
 and his subsequent sorrows and misfor 
 tunes, there was an exquisite blending of 
 humor and pathos which appealed to me 
 immeasurably. It was seldom, however, 
 that he would talk of those days the 
 sadness of it all was still too near to him. 
 When he was in luck he never referred to 
 them he seemed to live in the present 
 alone. But when, as was frequently the 
 case, his luck deserted him and things weni
 
 CHECKERS 63 
 
 wrong, he would sometimes get a fit of the 
 blues, and, falling into a reminiscent mood, 
 would find a sort of morbid comfort in 
 living it all over again. He would skip 
 abruptly from scene to scene, one incident 
 or perscn suggesting another, and in his 
 own peculiar way he would describe a situa 
 tion or picture a character with a vividness 
 worthy of a Dickens. For instance, when, 
 in speaking of his father-in-law, he said 
 that " the family used to have to treat him 
 with cocaine before he could stand it to 
 give up a nickel," I thought it a very 
 forceful way of expressing the old man's 
 carefulness. 
 
 As the days went by and nothing came 
 of my efforts to get a position for Checkers, 
 I had perforce to drop the matter, and 
 Checkers never again referred to it. 
 
 Gradually his visits became less frequent^ 
 as I ceased to continue a profitable sub 
 ject ; for his invention, however fertile, 
 could not furnish new excuses forever. 
 But I often found myself gathering up the 
 threads of his story as he had told it, weav
 
 64 CHECKERS 
 
 ing into the growing fabric some strands ot 
 my own imaginings, until I seemed to find 
 in it an odd and pathetic little romance. 
 ****** 
 
 The town of Clarksville, Ark., was not 
 attractive at any time, but to Checkers, who 
 had arrived there with Arthur Kendall at 
 three o'clock that summer's morning en 
 route from Hot Springs, the aspect of the 
 place seemed particularly dismal. 
 
 The train which had brought them from 
 Little Rock steamed away toward the Ter 
 ritory, and left them standing in darkness 
 on the station platform. 
 
 A 'bus from the hotel, with two forlorn 
 old horses driven by a sleepy, shock-headed 
 boy, stood waiting on the other side. They 
 entered it and went creaking off. 
 
 As Arthur had previously explained to 
 Checkers, his father's home was some miles 
 from town, and accordingly he thought it 
 better for them to sleep at the hotel until 
 morning, have their breakfast, and then 
 drive out. 
 
 As they lumbered along the dusty streets
 
 CHECKERS 65 
 
 in the silence of the early morning, Check 
 ers peered curiously out, and found his 
 original impressions gaining strength. 
 
 The stars were shining clear and lumin 
 ous, and in the East there was just the 
 faintest glow which told of the coming 
 sunrise. A vaporish mist hung low on the 
 ground, and in the dim uncertain light all 
 objects seemed to take to themselves a 
 weird and most uncanny look. At fre 
 quent intervals a " razor-back," already up 
 and browsing about, would trot tardily out 
 of the horses' way, grunting his dissatis 
 faction. 
 
 Shortly they turned into what seemed to 
 be the street of the town. It was wider 
 and dustier than any of the others, and 
 on it stood a large brick structure, which 
 Checkers judged to be the court house. It 
 formed what is commonly known as "a 
 square," for on opposite sides of the street 
 as they passed Checkers noticed that most 
 of the buildings were stores, with their low- 
 burning lamps keeping watch through the 
 night.
 
 66 CHECKERS 
 
 A few moments more and the 'bus drove 
 Op, and stopped before a low brick building. 
 
 Kendall, who had fallen asleep in his 
 corner, awoke, and with a " here we are," 
 jumped out and ushered Checkers into an 
 ill-smelling room, where a heavy-eyed youth 
 did the honors as clerk, and then lowering 
 himself to the office of bell-boy, took their 
 luggage and showed them the way to their 
 room. 
 
 Arriving, they stood in the darkness, 
 until he succeeded in lighting, with a 
 sulphur match, a very much smoked little 
 kerosene lamp, after which he brought 
 them a pitcher of water, and departed with 
 out the formality of a "good night." 
 
 Immediately Arthur began to undress. 
 This was all an old, old story to him. But 
 Checkers fell to looking about him. He 
 found that the door had no lock upon it, 
 and that the windows opened wide upon a 
 low veranda; that they boasted no screens, 
 nor could he find that the beds had any 
 mosquito-bars. 
 
 Kendall's face expressed a sleepy sur-
 
 CHECKERS 67 
 
 prise. " Come on, old man; get undressed," 
 he said, " it 's nearly 4 o'clock. We have n't 
 any too much time to sleep." 
 
 Checkers' only reply was to pull off his 
 coat, and to sit down and begin to unfasten 
 his shoes. A couple of June-bugs, attracted 
 by the light, flew in at the window, and 
 bumping around in their noisy, disagree 
 able way, gave Checkers an uncomfortable, 
 crawly feeling. 
 
 The truth was, Checkers was wholly met 
 ropolitan, and this was a new experience. 
 The darkness and silence disheartened and 
 cowed him. He missed the confusion and 
 glare of the city. 
 
 Kendall had fallen fast asleep, and was 
 breathing loudly in half a minute. But 
 Checkers lay wide-eyed and wondering, 
 listening to the locusts and katydids out 
 doing themselves in the trees outside. . 
 
 And then he fell to speculating about 
 his chances for the future, wondering what 
 the probable outcome of this new venture 
 of his was to be. Had n't he been foolish 
 in coming to such a God-forsaken iittle
 
 68 CHECKERS 
 
 place? He might have borrowed some 
 money from Kendall, and stayed at the 
 Springs and recouped. 
 
 And now that, after several days of so 
 licitous care and constant watching, he had 
 succeeded in pulling Kendall through 
 without his giving way to the terrible after- 
 craving he had for liquor, would the prom 
 ises made him be fulfilled, or had he been 
 too credulous? 
 
 Kendall had told him that he and his 
 father were wealthy. That besides their 
 large fruit farm, they were interested in a 
 general store and commission business. He 
 had promised Checkers that if he would but 
 consent to see him to his home in Clarks- 
 ville, he should be given a good position 
 in the store, and that if after they arrived 
 there he found that he did not care to 
 remain, he should have transportation to 
 any place in the country he cared to 
 go. And to Checkers, disheartened and 
 penniless, out of conceit with gambling, 
 and satiated with the excitement and un 
 certainty of the life he had been leading,
 
 CHECKERS 69 
 
 the opportunity seemed a very godsend 
 Thoughts of the country, green and cool, 
 appealed to him with a grateful sense of 
 restfulness and quiet; and the idea of go 
 ing to work again at something legitimate 
 brought with it the feeling of conscious 
 approval, which always accompanies virtu 
 ous resolves. 
 
 But since Kendall had become himself 
 again, he seemed to have grown less de 
 pendent and thankful. And again the 
 glimpse that Checkers had caught of the 
 place had greatly dampened his ardor. 
 
 An hour dragged slowly by, and still he 
 lay restlessly tossing about. The roosters 
 began to crow and answer each other from 
 point to point in the distance; and a hound 
 near by with a mournful howl bayed dis 
 mally at intervals. 
 
 'Twas the strangeness of it all that kept 
 him wakeful, but at last the tension was re 
 lieved by a knocking at the door of the 
 room beyond which aroused a couple of 
 drummers, who were called to catch an 
 early train. He heard them through the
 
 7 o CHECKERS 
 
 thin partition, dressing and grumbling at 
 their luck. Here at least was something 
 natural, and gradually the humorous side 
 of the situation appealed to him. He 
 smiled, as with a long-drawn sigh he mur 
 mured, " I think I '11 get fat here, nit," and 
 when he awoke it was broad daylight, and 
 Kendall was standing over him, dressed. 
 
 "Hello, old man, awake at last," laughed 
 Kendall. "Well, you better get up and 
 dress, or we 're apt to miss our breakfast. 
 How did you sleep? All right, I hope; you 
 look as fresh as a mountain daisy." 
 
 Checkers crawled slowly out of bed. 
 "Well, then my looks are a horrible bluff," 
 he said, with the slight, sardonic smile 
 which was usual to him at nearly all times. 
 "I feel like the last end of a misspent life," 
 and he fished a sock out from under the 
 bed. " Do you know," he continued, as he 
 held his shirt aloft, preparatory to putting 
 it on, " it 's wonderful how a fellow's early 
 training comes back to him later in life. I 
 recollect my mother used to read a psalm
 
 CHECKERS 71 
 
 about not being ' afraid of the terror by 
 night, nor the pestilence that walketh in 
 darkness.' Now, somehow, it never struck 
 me before, but I '11 bet the party that wrote 
 the verse never slept in an Arkansas hotel 
 bed. If he did, he had on his tin pajamas, 
 or else he could beat ' the pestilence ' walk 
 ing. Say, where on earth is my other sock? 
 I'll gamble that one of them pinchin'-bugs 
 pinched it? " and Checkers kept up a run 
 ning fire of quaint remarks while Kendall 
 laughed. 
 
 Their breakfast was a culinary horror. 
 
 " Have you got any capsules ? " asked 
 Checkers of the waitress. 
 
 " Capsules ! " 
 
 "Yes, I'll have to have some, if I take 
 this butter internally." A kick under the 
 table from Arthur put an end to further 
 persiflage. 
 
 A two-seated spring wagon, known local 
 ly as a " hack," with two sturdy horses and 
 a driver stood waiting for them. Arthur 
 had sent out and ordered it before break-
 
 72 CHECKERS 
 
 fast, and his telescope bag and Checkers' 
 trunk he had caused to be firmly strapped 
 Into the end. 
 
 The day was a typically beautiful one. 
 The clear and bracing morning air had in 
 it just enough of a chill to make the sun 
 shine grateful to them, as they drove along 
 the winding road, toward the mountainous 
 country lying beyond them. 
 
 Checkers' blues had disappeared with the 
 vapors of the night before, and he felt the 
 exultation of a new and pleasant exper 
 ience. Arthur was in an easy humor, and 
 described at considerable length to Check 
 ers his family and their circumstances. 
 
 Some ten years back his father had 
 moved from Massachusetts to that locality 
 at the advice of his doctor. He had bron 
 chial trouble, and he found the thin, clear 
 air of the Ozarks beneficial. Mrs. Ken 
 dall was long since dead, and Arthur had 
 been an only child. Besides these two 
 there were in the household Aunt Deb, who 
 was a sister of Mr. Kendall's, and " Cynthy," 
 the cook, and maid of all work. There
 
 CHECKERS 73 
 
 was also a good-natured creature named 
 Tobe, half-witted and harmless, attached 
 to the family, who did odd jobs for his 
 board and keep, and had constituted him 
 self a fixture. 
 
 At their store they sold everything from 
 plows to perfumery. The commission busi 
 ness was simply an adjunct. They bought 
 for cash from the farmers, and shipped the 
 goods to Little Rock, and sometimes to St. 
 Louis. Old Mr. Bradley, who had owned 
 the store when they first came there, was 
 running it now. They had bought him 
 out, but had given him an interest and 
 salary as manager. 
 
 The business was the pride of the old 
 man's life, and he watched it as a mother 
 Watches her babe. 
 
 Arthur spent most of his time at the 
 store, selling goods and talking to the trade; 
 but the elder Kendall seldom went there. 
 He passed the summer in his garden and 
 among his fruit trees. In the winter he 
 generally traveled farther South, 
 
 Checkers gathered by indirection that he
 
 74 CHECKERS 
 
 was wealthy outside of his business. Prob 
 ably an eccentric individual, who simply 
 liked the place and stayed there. 
 
 "I should think," said Checkers, as 
 Arthur paused in his recital, "that a fellow 
 would fall into a trance in about a week, in 
 a place like this. What on earth do you 
 do with yourself." 
 
 " Well," said Arthur, " I have n't lived 
 here much. I 've been East to school, and 
 knocked around in a lot of different places, 
 and I like it here as a kind of a change. 
 There are a couple of very nice girls in 
 the town that I call on once in a while. I 
 read a good deal in the evenings, and, in 
 season, the shooting is fine. I '11 admit it 
 gets rather stupid at times, but it's the best 
 place in the world for me. You know they 
 have ' local option ' here, and you can 't 
 get a drink for love or money. As long 
 as I stay here, of course, I 'm all right; but 
 as sure as I get away some place, I make a 
 fool of myself, and get full, as I did when 
 you rescued me at the Springs. Drinking 
 is a disease with me. I can 't drink as
 
 CHECKERS 75 
 
 jiost fellows do. If I touch a drop it 
 starts me off, and it's good-bye for a week 
 or two. Each time I come home as the 
 prodigal did, and my father comes out and 
 'falls on my neck.' He's been devilish 
 kind, the governor has, and I 've cost him 
 a lot of money and trouble." 
 
 "Well, that's what a father has to ex 
 pect," remarked Checkers. " If ever I 
 have a son, I '11 begin storing up veal on 
 the day that he's born I '11 need it if he 
 takes after 'papa.'" 
 
 Arthur laughed and laid his hand caress 
 ingly upon Checker's shoulder. " Old 
 man," he said, " I like you and I want you 
 to stay here and be my chum. We '11 have 
 some bully times together, and you '11 like 
 it when you get used to the place. You 've 
 treated me mighty white all through, and 
 I want to tell you that I appreciate it." 
 
 Checkers grew red. He felt embarrassed, 
 'and hesitated for a reply. Arthur knew 
 his story, or such of it as Checkers had seen 
 fit to relate to him. But Checkers had 
 never intimated that he was hopelessly de-
 
 76 CHECKERS 
 
 pendent. He had spoken vaguely of rela 
 lives; of drawing a draft on Uncle Giles; 
 of telegraphing to Chicago for money; it 
 lent him respectability. 
 
 It must be remembered that at this time 
 Checkers had not been through the most 
 trying part of the experiences of which he 
 had spoken while dining with me at Kins 
 ley's that night. And while by no means 
 Arthur's equal in the social scale, he was 
 still very far from being the hardened tout, 
 whom two years later, I met at the race 
 track, Derby Day. 
 
 Nevertheless, he himself felt a difference 
 intuitively, and though he had exercised to 
 the full his talent for making himself com 
 panionable, it had proved a very difficult 
 task to fully break through Arthur's re 
 serve. This sudden show of sentiment, 
 therefore, upon Arthur's part, affected and 
 pleased him; and reaching up to the hand 
 on his shoulder, he grasped it warmly. "I '11 
 go you," he said. And the two friends 
 smiled into each other's eyes.
 
 A very few days sufficed to make Check 
 ers feel thoroughly at home in his new sur 
 roundings. The Kendall house was a roomy, 
 frame structure set upon one of the highest 
 of the Ozark Mountains, to which the road 
 from Clarksville was a gradual, and almost 
 constant ascent. From his window Check 
 ers could see for miles down into the val 
 ley, across the dense growth of mountain- 
 pines, the many shaded green and yellow 
 squares of fields and farm lands beyond, 
 and away in the distance the Arkansas 
 River glistening in the sun like a silver 
 snake. 
 
 Immediately surrounding the house were 
 the orchards, their trees almost breaking 
 with the wealth of their red and yellow fruit. 
 
 Checkers had found ready favor with 
 Mr. Kendall by evincing an enthusiastic 
 77
 
 78 CHECKERS 
 
 interest, confessing at the same time an 
 ignorance which allowed the old gentle 
 man full opportunity for enlarging upon 
 his favorite hobbies. Aunt Deb's smiles 
 were as quickly won by a deft word in 
 praise of the table. 
 
 Just how Arthur had explained the pres 
 ence of his friend to the household, Check 
 ers did not know. But it was evident, as 
 he remarked to himself, that "the expla 
 nation went," and he bothered himselr 
 about it no further. 
 
 At the store it was found that Checkers' 
 talents were those of a salesman par excel 
 lence. 
 
 He quickly learned the run of the goods, 
 and his chief delight, to use his own words, 
 was "to jolly the jays into buying some 
 thing they absolutely had no need of." 
 
 Arthur and Mr. Bradley would some 
 times stand almost convulsed with silent 
 laughter, listening to the dialogue between 
 Checkers and some country customer. 
 
 He was quick at reading character, and 
 his intuitions were remarkably keen. He
 
 CHECKERS 79 
 
 was able, therefore, to ingratiate himsell 
 with nearly every class of purchaser, by 
 starting a genial conversation upon the 
 topic he deemed most fit, letting it take 
 its course through all the vagaries of a 
 country mind, until at last it veered around 
 to the subject of a possible purchase. Then, 
 in the most disinterested way, and as 
 though rather sorry to end the talk, he 
 would go behind the counter and pleas 
 antly show forth a number of things that 
 had n't been asked for, as though it was 
 only as a special favor that he had gone to 
 the trouble of getting the articles down. 
 Such consideration, backed by a judicious 
 talk, seldom failed of the most substantial 
 results; and Checkers' fame soon went 
 abroad as " a nice, young feller and a 
 smart 'un, too." 
 
 It was during his first few days at the 
 store that he acquired the soubriquet of 
 " Checkers." It was a piece of rude, bu 
 colic wit, but the name stuck to him, as 
 such names will, and followed him through 
 his many vicissitudes.
 
 8o CHECKERS 
 
 Time was at a discount in Clarksville 
 Everyone had time to spend, but few had 
 money for such a purpose. And generally 
 at the Kendall store, some six or eight of 
 the local talent might be found lounging 
 comfortably in the chairs outside, chaffing 
 one another, chewing tobacco, and waiting 
 for something new to turn up. 
 
 This was particularly the case on Satur 
 days, when the farmers came to town with 
 their apples, vegetables and eggs for barter, 
 made their necessary purchases, and con 
 sumed the balance of the day in standing 
 around, talking crops and politics. 
 
 Although there were no saloons in the 
 place, the greater part of the assemblage 
 always delayed their shopping until the 
 last possible moment, which naturally made 
 a considerable rush at the various stores as 
 evening approached. 
 
 It was Checkers' first Saturday there, and 
 while endeavoring to be as helpful as 
 possible, he was nevertheless rather awk 
 ward, as a result of his unaccustomedness. 
 
 This did not fail to be observed by the
 
 CHECKERS 81 
 
 natives, to whom he was an obiect of much 
 curiosity, and to whom his presence among 
 the Kendalls was a matter of wide and 
 varied conjecture. The younger element 
 especially showed an undisguised interest 
 in all that he did, whispering and laughing 
 among themselves in a way which, to 
 Checkers, was most exasperating. 
 
 There is something about a city-bred 
 youth his manner, his clothes, his well- 
 groomed look, his unconscious air of su 
 periority which is antagonistic to country 
 prejudice. Such prejudice is not hard to 
 rerrove, and generally disappears upon 
 she ft acquaintance. But the initiation is 
 very trying, and Checkers felt the ordeal 
 keenly. 
 
 ''Say, Arthur," he said, as Kendall 
 pa ted, " if some of those guys do n't chase 
 themselves, and quit whisperin' around, 
 and givin' me the rah-rah, there 's going to 
 be a fight 01 a foot race, and your Uncle 
 Dudley won't be in front." 
 
 "Why, they're all right," said Arthur, 
 soothingly. "They 're interested in you,
 
 82 CHECKERS 
 
 because you 're a stranger. But they do n't 
 mean the slightest harm. You know ' a 
 cat may look at a king.' " 
 
 "Yes, I know 'a cat may look at a king,' 
 but she 'd better not see any flies on the 
 king, if she wants to keep her health and 
 strength," and Checkers continued arrang 
 ing a show-case. 
 
 In order to save his clothes while work 
 ing, Checkers had brought to the store an 
 old suit of a loud, checked pattern, and 
 peculiar cut, which, nevertheless, was very 
 becoming. 
 
 Towards evening the crowd began to in 
 crease, and Mr. Bradley, Arthur, two assis 
 tants and Checkers were all as busy as it 
 was possible to be. Those who were being 
 waited on took none the less time in mak 
 ing their purchases, because there were 
 others awaiting their turn. As a conse 
 quence, there was chafir * and grumbling 
 among the procrastinators, who were now 
 in a hurry. 
 
 Uncle Jerry Halter, from the back wood*
 
 CHECKERS 83 
 
 a character; shrewd, crabbed and as close 
 as the next minute was foremost among 
 these, and at last he discovered our friend, 
 Mr. Campbell, checked suit and all, return 
 ing from having washed his hands, after -, 
 not very successful attempt at filling a large 
 brown jug with molasses. 
 
 The old man crowded through to the 
 counter, leaning over it expectantly, but 
 Checkers passed him by unheeded, making 
 his way toward a pretty girl. 
 
 " Hey there ! " exclaimed Uncle Jerry 
 indignantly his voice was loud and very 
 nasal. " Hey ! ' Checkers,' or whatever 
 your name is I 'm in a hurry, and I want 
 to go." 
 
 Instantly there was a general laugh, and 
 Checkers stopped and turned around. 
 
 "Well, go if you want to you're not 
 tied down," he retorted, and the laugh was 
 on Uncle Jerry. 
 
 The old man colored to the roots of his 
 hair. " You 're very fresh, young feller," he 
 snarled.
 
 8 4 CHECKERS 
 
 "Yes ; warranted to keep in any climate," 
 said Checkers, smiling good-naturedly at 
 him. 
 
 Arthur happened along just then, and 
 soothed and waited upon Uncle Jerry, get 
 ting him peaceably out of the store. 
 
 In the morning at breakfast he related 
 the incident to Mr. Kendall, who he 
 knew would appreciate it. 
 
 "There is only one man about here 
 meaner than old Jerry Halter," said Mr. 
 Kendall, addressing Checkers, "and that 
 is the father of Arthur's little friend, Miss 
 Barlow. I once heard a friend of mine 
 say of him that 'he would n't smile unless 
 it was at another man's expense,' and I 
 quite believe it. Arthur could tell you no 
 end of humorous things about him, if he 
 only would. But I suppose he does n't 
 want to relate what may some day be 
 family secrets. How is that, Arthur?" 
 
 Arthur looked annoyed, but did not 
 jeply to this bit of parental humor. 
 
 " As soon as Pert and Sadie come home 
 you must take Mr. Campbell to call on
 
 CHECKERS 85 
 
 them, Arthur," said Aunt Deb. "They 
 are two lovely girls," she continued, turn 
 ing to Checkers. " They 've been away 
 to school; to a seminary up in Illinois. 
 School 's out now, of course, but they 're 
 visiting somewhere in St. Louis, I be^ 
 lieve. They 're expected home this week, 
 though; so you'll have the pleasure of 
 meeting them soon." 
 
 "Sisters ?" asked Checkers. 
 
 " No ; not sisters, but cousins, and almost 
 inseparable. Sadie is n't as pretty as Pert, 
 but she 's just as sweet as sweet can be, and 
 & perfect treasure about a house. Are you 
 fond of young ladies, Mr. Campbell ? " 
 
 Checkers hardly knew what to say. " I 'm 
 a great admirer of girls in general,*' he re 
 plied, after a moment's hesitation, "and 
 they 've always struck me as being a mighty 
 nice thing to kind of have around. But 
 I 've had very little experience with them 
 that is, at least, in the last two years." 
 
 The truth was, that the friends with 
 whom Checkers had gone to live in Chi 
 cago, after his mother's death, had been
 
 86 CHECKERS 
 
 people of true worth and refinement. They 
 .were poor a widowed mother and two 
 daughters and the liberal sum which 
 Checkers insisted upon paying them for 
 his monthly maintenance was to them a 
 matter of grateful benefit. But they, in 
 return, had exercised a restraining influ 
 ence over him ; had taught him to be cour 
 teous and gentlemanly, deferential to his 
 elders, and respectful toward women, or, 
 at least to maintain such an outward sem 
 blance, which answered all general purposes. 
 
 He had conceived a boyish adoration for 
 the elder daughter, four years his senior, 
 which had aided her materially in her influ 
 ence over him for good. And it was only 
 as he began to realize the utter hopeless 
 ness of his passion, and at the same time 
 found himself being supplanted by the 
 bearded man who some months after mar 
 ried her and took her away, that he grew 
 dissatisfied with working and found the 
 excitement that he craved in racing and 
 kindred gambling devices. 
 
 For several years he had lived this life,
 
 CHECKERS 87 
 
 gradually growing hard and careless. But 
 now that he found himself once more an 
 inmate of a respectable family circle, he 
 resumed his gentleness of manner, as it 
 had been a half-forgotten r61e. 
 
 " I had been "keeping the girls as a little 
 surprise for him, Aunt Deb," said Arthur 
 rather reproachfully. " To meet a girl who 
 has been described to you is like listening 
 to a joke which is told point first." 
 
 " I warrant he '11 find plenty to be inter 
 ested in after he meets them, for all we may 
 tell him," replied Aunt Deb. 
 
 " Yes," said Mr. Kendall, " there is some 
 thing about each girl one meets a little dif 
 ferent from any other. At least it was so 
 when I was a boy. I never found any two 
 quite alike." 
 
 " I never found one alike any two times," 
 said Arthur, very feelingly; "but their un 
 certainty, I suppose, is their charm. Come, 
 let 's go out and loaf under the trees." 
 
 "Thank God, Sunday comes once a 
 week," said Checkers. " I could stand two 
 a week without straining myself."
 
 88 CHECKERS 
 
 " The girls are to be home Friday," said 
 Arthur. " Fi iday night we '11 go down and 
 call, if you 'd like to." 
 
 " Tickled to death," said Checkers. 
 
 "Sadie will probably stay with Pert a 
 while, as her father, Judge Martin, has gone 
 to Texas, and won't be back for a couple 
 of weeks. Sadie's mother is dead, you 
 know, and she and the old man are all 
 alone. By the way, the Judge is rich, and 
 Sadie is rich in her own right, too." 
 
 " That settles it, Sadie dear; you 're mine. 
 A fortune-teller told me I 'd marry a rich 
 girl." 
 
 "Better see her before you marry her, 
 had n't you ? " suggested Arthur. 
 
 "Why? She has n't got pen -paralysis, 
 has she?" 
 
 " Pen-paralysis ! No ; what on earth is 
 that ? " 
 
 " Well, as long as she can sign a check v ' 
 I guess we can manage to worry along. 
 She may have faults ; she probably has ; 
 but any girl who marries me won't be get 
 ting any the best of it. There' s a heap of
 
 CHECKERS 89 
 
 consolation in that idea to a man about to 
 commit matrimony." 
 
 ( " There are very few men I know of," 
 said Arthur, "but what could ' lay to their 
 soul that flattering unction.' " 
 
 " When you 're swapping ' sights un 
 seen,' " said Checkers, "you do n't want too 
 good a knife, or a horse yourself, or you '11 
 get the hooks on the trade." 
 
 "With all respect to you, my boy, you'd 
 be far from 'getting the hooks,' as you 
 call it, with Sadie Martin for a wife." 
 
 " Or you with Miss Barlow, I suppose." 
 
 Arthur's only response was a long drawn 
 sigh, and he gazed into distance vacantly. 
 
 " Where did they get the name of ' Pert ' 
 for Miss Barlow, Arthur ?" asked Checkers, 
 suddenly. 
 
 " It 's an abbreviation of a biblical name," 
 said Arthur. " In a verse of one of Paul's 
 Epistles to the Romans, he says, ' Salute 
 also the beloved Persis.' When Pert was 
 a child they gave her the nick-name, and 
 it's stuck to her ever since." 
 
 Friday evening came at last, and Arthur
 
 90 CHECKERS 
 
 and Checkers at an early hour drove down 
 the mountain to call upon the young ladies. 
 
 The Barlows lived much nearer Clarks- 
 ville than did the Kendalls, though upon 
 a different road, and the young men had a 
 long and round-about drive ere they 
 reached their destination. As they entered 
 the driveway two large dogs came bound 
 ing toward them, growling fiercely. 
 
 " Look out thar, boys, ye do n't git dog- 
 bit !" shouted a voice. " Here Lion, here 
 Tige ; commir, ye varmints ! What d 'ye 
 mean ? All right now ; I 've got a-hold 
 of 'em. That you, Arthur ; how de do ? " 
 
 " How do you do, Mr. Barlow ? " re 
 sponded Arthur. 
 
 " Hitch yer hosses ter that tree thar. I '11 
 send Joe out ter tend to 'em. Ye '11 find 
 the girls round the side in a hammock. 
 Here 's Pert a-comin' now." 
 
 " Good evening, Arthur, I 'm glad to see 
 you," said a pleasant voice, and out of the 
 shadow into the light of the yellow moon, 
 which was just showing over the tops of 
 the trees, the figure of a girl in white ap-
 
 CHECKERS 91 
 
 peared, moving quickly and gracefully 
 toward them. 
 
 Arthur stepped forward, and taking both 
 of her hands in his, pressed them silently 
 for a moment. " Pert," he said, " I want 
 you to meet my friend, Mr. Campbell. 
 Come here, old man. Miss Barlow, Mr. 
 Campbell." 
 
 " I am very glad to meet you, Miss Bar 
 low," said Checkers, with a graceful in 
 clination. 
 
 " Where 's Sadie, Pert ? Oh, here she 
 comes," said Arthur. " That you, Sadie ? 
 How are you ?" 
 
 "Pretty well, thank you. How's your 
 self ?" 
 
 " Sadie, let me introduce you to a friend 
 of mine. Miss Martin, Mr. Campbell." 
 
 Miss Martin straightway offered her hand, 
 and Checkers shook it cordially. 
 
 " Let 's go and sit where we can see the 
 moon it's perfectly beautiful to-night," 
 said Pert. " Arthur, get two chairs from 
 the porch, and bring them over by the 
 hammock."
 
 92 CHECKERS 
 
 Arthur went to fulfill his mission while 
 Checkers walked between the young ladies. 
 
 Suddenly he skipped nimbly forward. 
 " Excuse me while I climb a tree," he ex 
 claimed, with a comical intonation. "There 
 comes Lion and Tige, and I 'm afraid it 's 
 another horrible case of 'They're After 
 Me.*" 
 
 " Oh, they won't touch you while you 're 
 with us," laughed Sadie. "Here Lion, 
 here Tige, good dogs." 
 
 " Well then, I think I 'd better establish 
 my popularity with them both right now," 
 said Checkers ; and with an air of confi 
 dence he kindly patted and rubbed their 
 heads in a way that dogs love, and made 
 them his friends. 
 
 Meanwhile Arthur arrived with the chairs. 
 Sadie seated herself in one of them, and 
 motioning Checkers to place the other be 
 side her, left the hammock to Pert and 
 Arthur. 
 
 " Did you have a good time in St. Louis, 
 girls ?" asked Arthur. 
 
 " Oh lovely ! " they both exclaimed.
 
 CHECKERS 93 
 
 " We hated dreadfully to come home," 
 continued Sadie, "but we simply had to. 
 Our clothes were in tatters. All the men 
 were so sweet to us. They kept something 
 going on every minute." 
 
 Then followed an enthusiastic account 
 of their good time, which was tiresome to 
 Checkers, and torture to Kendall. 
 
 " Pert, get your banjo," said Arthur, sud 
 denly. "It seems like years since I've 
 heard you play. " 
 
 "It has n't but one string on it, Arthur," 
 laughed Pert, " but I '11 fix it up to-morrow, 
 sure." 
 
 "I think it would sound very smooth 
 out here in the moonlight, Miss Barlow,'* 
 suggested Checkers. " If you have some 
 new strings I 'd be glad to fix it up for you- 
 I used to play a bit myself." 
 
 Sadie jumped up. " Come, let's go and 
 get it," she said ; and she and Checkers 
 went into the house. 
 
 She ushered Checkers into a room where 
 Mr. Barlow, in shirt sleeves and stocking 
 feet, sat dozing in a rocking chair, while
 
 94 CHECKERS 
 
 his wife, a sweet-faced, grey-haired woman, 
 worked button-holes in his new gingham 
 shirts. 
 
 Checkers felt drawn towards Mrs. Bar 
 low. She reminded him strangely of hi? 
 mother. She had a smile like a benedic 
 tion ; but in her weary eyes he could read 
 a tragedy. 
 
 The banjo was one of Arthur's many 
 gifts to Pert in days gone by, and Check 
 ers to his great relief found it a very excel 
 lent instrument. 
 
 Checkers was not a conversationalist, 
 where conversation had to be made ; but 
 he was a very good amateur banjoist, and 
 he sang an excellent comic song ; and he 
 was glad of the opportunity offered to show 
 himself in perhaps his best r61e. 
 
 While, with the banjo on his knee, he 
 deftly adjusted the strings, Miss Martin 
 sat beside him, an interested spectator, and 
 talked to him in an undertone. 
 
 *'I thought we had better come in here 
 end give Arthur a little chance," she said 
 " poor fellow." This with a long drawn
 
 CHECKERS 95 
 
 sigh, which seemed to demand an explana 
 tion. 
 
 Checkers looked up, inquiringly. This 
 was his first legitimate opportunity of tak 
 ing a comprehensive look at her. The 
 casual glance had proclaimed her plain, 
 but now in the bright light of a hanging- 
 lanip she seemed to him hopelessly unat 
 tractive. He felt chagrined and disap 
 pointed. He was angry with Arthur for 
 not having prepared him for such a cruel 
 disillusion. For somehow since his jesting 
 words of the previous Sabbath morning, 
 he had allowed his fancy to run the gamut 
 of many glittering possibilities. 
 
 He had started forth that evening, feel 
 ing a pleasurable excitement in the vague 
 presentiment that he was going to meet 
 his destiny. But now it simply " would n't 
 do." He decided quickly and became re 
 signed. 
 
 " It was n't that she was really so ugly," 
 he afterwards explained to me, " but there 
 was n't anything about her that you could 
 tie to, and sort of forget the rest " except
 
 96 CHECKERS 
 
 her "stuff," and he wasn't sure but that 
 was one of Arthur's " pipe-dreams." She 
 had no style, no face, no figure. Nothing 
 at all for a little starter. She was just a 
 girl, that was all just a girl. A fact 
 which put her beyond the pale. 
 
 " Why do you say ' poor fellow ?' " said 
 Checkers, after several moments silence. 
 " It seems to me he 's mighty lucky to have 
 such a tidy little friend." 
 
 " Yes, but I fear she is only a friend, and 
 that 's why I 'm so sorry for him. I like 
 Arthur ; I think he is simply a dear. He 
 has always been perfectly lovely to me. 
 But Pert well, Pert is very peculiar, and 
 Arthur, you know, is awfully fast." 
 
 Checkers put on an incredulous look. 
 "Arthur fast !" he exclaimed with a laugh. 
 "Why, if he was in a city, I 'd expect him 
 to get run over by a hearse inside of a 
 week." 
 
 " Oh, you men always stand up for each 
 other ; but I know all about it. You can't 
 fool me." 
 
 Mrs. Barlow looked up from her sewing.
 
 CHECKERS 9} 
 
 "You and Arthur are very old friends, I 
 suppose," she said, interrogatively. 
 
 This was just the question that Checkers 
 had feared. " We went to school at about 
 the same time," he replied, and immedi 
 ately struck up an air, which, for the timei 
 precluded further questioning. " At least, 
 I suppose we did," he thought to himself, 
 "as we are about the same age." 
 
 Meanwhile Pert and Arthur sat in the 
 hammock outside in the radiant moon 
 light. It seemed to Arthur Pert had never 
 looked so beautiful before. Her large, 
 dark eyes were lustrous ; and a silvery halo 
 played about her soft, brown hair, while 
 the pale light gave the clear skin of her 
 oval face the pallor of marble, save for her 
 lips, which were the redder by contrast. 
 
 " Such a nice little fellow ! " she had ex 
 claimed, as Sadie and Checkers went into 
 the house. " Who is he, Arthur ? Where 
 did he come from ? " 
 
 Arthur hesitated awkwardly. It had 
 been his intention to confess to Pert all 
 the circumstances of his last misadventure,-
 
 98 CHECKERS 
 
 but her few words in praise of Checkers 
 now suddenly emphasized in his mind the 
 thought that everything he had to tell was 
 as clearly discreditable to himself as it was 
 favorable to Checkers, and he had n't the 
 generosity of nature to put the matter upon 
 that footing. 
 
 Still, when upon several former occa 
 sions, he had confessed to Pert his weak 
 nesses and sins, there had been a kindness 
 in her ready sympathy, her gentle chiding 
 and disapproval, which seemed to bring her 
 nearer to him than she ever was during 
 good behavior. He had found a certain 
 desperate pleasure at times in telling her 
 of his misdoings. It roused her, at least 
 temporarily, out of her usual placid indif 
 ference toward him an attitude to which 
 he sometimes felt that her hatred would 
 have been preferable. 
 
 As a school-girl of sixteen, with romantic 
 tendencies, Pert had entered upon the task 
 of reforming Arthur, with a childish belief 
 that the love he professed for her, and 
 which she, in a measure, returned, might be
 
 CHECKERS 99 
 
 made a means to an earnest and successful 
 endeavor upon his part to become worthy 
 ot her. But lapse after lapse had shaken 
 .his faith, and three years of experience 
 found her with simply a sisterly pity for 
 this weak young man, whose devotion was 
 so abject that he ceased to interest her, 
 and whose spasmodic vices were not of the 
 kind which make some men so darkly 
 fascinating. 
 
 And so Arthur hesitated, debating rap 
 idly in his mind what to say, what to leave 
 unsaid. "Well, it 's a rather peculiar story, 
 Pert, although it all happened naturally 
 enough," he answered, after a little time. 
 " I went up to Little Rock a few weeks ago 
 to see a party on business. I found when 
 I got there that he had gone to Hot 
 Springs, and so I followed him over there. 
 I wound up the business in a couple of 
 days, but, as long as I was there, I thought 
 I 'd stay a week or so and take a few 
 baths. 
 
 "Well, one day in the cooling-room I 
 struck up a conversation with the man
 
 ioo CHECKERS 
 
 lying next to me, and I '11 pledge you mj 
 word I never laughed so much in all my 
 life as I did that morning at our little 
 friend here, who told me a lot of his hard- 
 luck stories. 
 
 "We dressed, and went and had lunch 
 together, and he told me that he was dead, 
 flat broke. He had been 'bucking the 
 tiger,' and was waiting to hear from his 
 uncle, to whom he had written for money. 
 I met him again a few days later, and he 
 told me he had n't heard a word as yet ; 
 that his trunk was in hock at the hotel, and 
 altogether he was in the deuce of a fix. 
 But he seemed so cheerful about it all that 
 I could n't help taking a liking to him, and 
 I proposed that he come to Clarksville 
 with me, and take a job in the store, till 
 he heard from his uncle, or had saved 
 enough money to get straightened out 
 again. He jumped at the chance, and 
 I brought him along. He 's a first-class 
 salesman, and jolly good company; but 
 I 'm afraid he won 't stay with me much 
 longer ; he 's getting tired of the place
 
 CHECKERS 101 
 
 already. I shall be dreadfully lonesome 
 when he 's gone. 
 
 " But heavens, Pert ; how lonesome I 've 
 been without you, away at your school all 
 these months. It seems so good to see 
 you here that I can scarcely believe my 
 eyes." 
 
 "I 'm glad to be back on some accounts, 
 although it grows horribly stupid here." 
 
 "Stupid, Pert! It wouldn't seem stu 
 pid to me on a desert island, if you were 
 there." 
 
 "I should n't care to try it." 
 
 "Pert, dear," Arthur's voice grew tender, 
 " I want to say a few words to you seri 
 ously, and I beg of you to listen seriously. 
 We are children no longer, little girl. You 
 have finished with school, and I have prac 
 tically assumed control of father's business. 
 I have no new story to tell you, but you 
 know that I love you and long for you 
 now as I have loved and longed for you 
 for years. 
 
 " You have been my good angel, Pert 
 It has been my love for you and your influ-
 
 102 CHECKERS 
 
 ence over me alone that has kept me stead 
 fast during hours of terrible temptation. 
 You know I 'm not naturally vicious, Pert ; 
 I must have inherited this appetite I have 
 had to fight so hard against. But I am 
 overcoming it I '11 conquer it, Pert ; and 
 with you to be with me to love me and help 
 me, I '11 make a good man. I '11 make a 
 place and a name in the world. But I need 
 you, darling I love you, and I 'd rather 
 die than live without you. We '11 sell out 
 this business, leave this place, and go back 
 to the East and civilization to live, where 
 there 's something to see and to do. You 
 shall have everything, anything, dear, that 
 your heart desires only say that you love 
 me." And bending nearer, he sought to 
 draw her to him in a passionate embrace. 
 
 Pert did not move from her position in 
 the hammock , out firmly resisted his en 
 deavor, and, taking his arm from around 
 her waist, simply handed it back to him, 
 as it were. (A maneuvre upon a girl's 
 part more aggravating, :n passant, than 
 any other one thing she can do.)
 
 CHECKERS 103 
 
 "I am sorry," she said, as Arthur stilt 
 sat in the hammock beside her, silent and 
 downcast " I 'm dreadfully sorry, Arthur, 
 that you should have brought this matter 
 up again. We have been such friends so 
 many years, and you are such a good 
 friend, when you are only a friend. I 
 hate to wound you, if, indeed, you care for 
 me as you say you do ; but I do n't love 
 you, Arthur, in the way you would have 
 me, and I know I never shall. It 's best 
 that I should tell you this plainly, and I 
 know you will be glad of it in the end. I 
 am not the girl you think me, Arthur. 
 You do n't know me as I really am. If 
 you did you 'd be glad to have escaped so 
 luckily. I always try to make a good im 
 pression, but really I am willful, selfish 
 and discontented. You would be awfully 
 sorry when it was too late. Believe me, I 
 am telling the truth. So let 's never talk 
 about this any more, but be the good 
 friends we have always been." 
 
 Arthur jumped up impatiently. "You 
 are trifling with me, as you always do," he
 
 104 CHECKERS 
 
 said, with a savage ring in his voice. " 1 
 do n't care what your faults are. I want 
 you, just as you are, to be my wife. Care 
 for you as I say I do ! I have loved you 
 since we were children together. I have 
 never cared for any one else. My every 
 thought has been for your happiness. I 
 have never spared trouble, time or money 
 in doing what I thought would please you 
 
 and why do you suppose I 've done so ? 
 for fun ? for glory ? for something to pass 
 away time ? I tell you, Pert, I 'm getting 
 mighty tired of this kind of foolishness. 
 You and I are fitted for each other by 
 reason of natural situation, if nothing else. 
 What other man is there around here who 
 is anywhere near your equal, socially ? 
 What kind of a life will you lead cooped 
 up on this hillside farm as the years go by ? 
 
 a living death, only think of it ! 
 "Your father is willing, anxious, that you 
 
 should be married and safely provided for 
 
 I have talked with him ; he has told me 
 so. My father simply worships you, and
 
 CHECKERS 105 
 
 nothing on earth would please him so much 
 ^s to have you for a daughter-in-law." 
 
 " But, Arthur," said Pert, almost plead 
 ingly, " I have told you how I feel about 
 it. I don't love you, and how can I 
 marry a man I do n't love ? I am fonder 
 of you, much fonder, than of any other 
 man I know, and I can't begin to tell you 
 how bad I should feel to lose your friend 
 ship, but " 
 
 She paused as a sound of voices reached 
 them, and in a moment, to her great relief, 
 Sadie and Checkers, with the banjo, came 
 round the house and joined them. 
 
 One sweep of the strings, to be sure it 
 was in tune, and Checkers tendered Pert 
 the instrument. 
 
 " No, I shan't play ; we want to hear 
 you," she laughingly exclaimed, putting 
 her hands behind her. " I am only a 
 novice, and you know the old proverb, 
 ' The poor ye have always with ye.' " 
 
 Without more ado Checkers sat down 
 and played a couple of lively airs.
 
 io6 CHECKERS 
 
 " Now, a song," exclaimed Pert ; " I am 
 sure that you sing." 
 
 " How did you guess it ? " asked Chect 
 ers smiling. " Well, what shall it be, a 
 ' serio-chronic,' or a song about some ' old 
 oaken ' thing ? " 
 
 " Oh, something funny, Mr. Campbell," 
 said Sadie. 
 
 Checkers sang a song of an Irish dance. 
 This he followed with one of the popular 
 ballads of the day, full of melody. 
 
 He had a clear, high voice, with a touch 
 of that boyish sweetness in it, which made 
 Emmet so famous. A sweetness to which 
 the open air and the sharpness of the banjo 
 added a charm. 
 
 The girls were delighted. They called 
 upon him for song after song, until 
 Arthur, pulling out his watch, said ab 
 ruptly, " It is time to be going," and went 
 to untie the horses. 
 
 Amid hearty hand-shakings and cordial 
 invitations to call again soon, Checkers 
 said good -by, and climbed into the buggy 
 as Arthur drove up.
 
 CHECKERS 107 
 
 Down the driveway, out upon the moon 
 lit road, they sat. in silence. Each was busy 
 with his own thoughts. Arthur cut the 
 horses viciously from time to time for no 
 apparent reason. Checkers smoked a 
 cigarette as though altogether pleased with 
 himself. Arthur finally broke the spell 
 "Well," he exclaimed, with a rising inflec 
 tion. 
 
 "A nice line of girls. Miss Barlow T s 
 'Class A'" answered Checkers. "The 
 other one is all right, too; but she 's just a 
 few chips shy on looks." 
 
 " Looks are not the only thing in the 
 world," snapped Arthur ; " beauty 's only 
 skin deep." 
 
 " It might improve some of our friends 
 a little to skin 'em, then, if that's so," 
 laughed Checkers. "That reminds me," 
 he continued musingly, "of what a friend of 
 mine, ' Push ' Miller, told me once. He 
 said he never in his life ran across two 
 pretty girls that trotted together. If one 
 of 'em was a queen, her partner was safe to 
 be about a nine-spot. He figured that the
 
 108 CHECKERS 
 
 pretty one used the other as a kind of foil, 
 "vhile the homely one trailed along to get 
 ^n on the excess trade which the pretty one 
 drew, and turned over to her." 
 
 As Arthur neither laughed at, nor re 
 plied to, this sally, Checkers concluded he 
 had a grouch, and left him to his own de 
 vices. 
 
 That night, upon going to bed, the girls, 
 as was natural, had compared notes, and 
 quickly discovered the apparent discrep 
 ancy between Checkers' statement to Mrs. 
 Barlow, and the story Arthur had related 
 to Pert. 
 
 " I am sorry to know that Mr. Campbell 
 has told a deliberate lie," said Pert, " but 
 there is some excuse for him, after all, for 
 any other explanation would have been 
 embarrassing." 
 
 "Oh, a little thing like a lie or two 
 does n't stand in the way of the average 
 man," said Sadie. 
 
 " Well, there is something back of Ar 
 thur's story, Sadie, I know from the way he 
 hesitated. We '11 know all about it before
 
 CHECKERS 109 
 
 long, I guess. He 's an awfully cute little 
 fellow, though, is n't he ? I hope he '11 
 decide to stay a while ; he 's such jolly good 
 company, and Arthur's so tiresome." 
 
 " Poor Arthur !" sighed Sadie. 
 
 "Poor Pert," echoed Pert.
 
 VJ 
 
 The following afternoon Arthur com. 
 plained of feeling ill. On the way home 
 from the store he was taken with a violent 
 chill, which was followed by a raging fever. 
 The doctor was summoned, and pro 
 nounced it malaria, but typhoid symptoms 
 developed later, and for weeks his life hung 
 in the balance. 
 
 Meanwhile Checkers worked early and 
 late at the store, to make up for Arthur's 
 absence. He felt this loss of a companion 
 keenly, and soon the long drive home alone, 
 and the air of apprehension and lonesome- 
 ness, which pervaded the house, became so 
 irksome to him that he arranged to stay in 
 town with Mr. Bradley, who kept house 
 with a maiden sister in their little home 
 just next to the store. 
 
 It was from this same sister, who dis- 
 no
 
 CHECKERS in 
 
 Hked Arthur, but had taken to Checkers, 
 as every one did, that Pert at last learned 
 the reason of Checkers coming to Clarks- 
 ville. 
 
 Mr. Bradley had told his sister the bare 
 facts as he had learned them from Arthur t 
 and these she had enlarged upon in relat 
 ing them to Pert, embellishing the story to 
 suit her fancy. 
 
 The discovery of this attempt upon 
 Arthur's part to shield himself, and belittle 
 his friend, checked the growing pity and 
 tenderness Pert felt for him because of his 
 illness, and killed every possible vestige of 
 regard she might have had remaining for 
 him. Checkers, on the contrary, grew in 
 favor. He had discovered that it was but 
 a pleasant and picturesque walk from town 
 to the Barlow place, and evening after 
 evening found him seated under the trees 
 with the girls, banjo in hand, singing for 
 them, and telling them interesting tales of 
 his many and varied experiences. 
 
 Sadie's tather returned, and she went 
 back to town to be with him. But Check-
 
 ii2 CHECKERS 
 
 ers still took his evening walk out the 
 country road, except when Pert came in to 
 spend the night with her cousin, as she 
 often did. 
 
 Under such conditions friendships 
 quickly ripen, and Checkers, at least, soon 
 found himself upon the borderland of a 
 warmer sentiment ; but his manner con 
 tinued one of purely good-natured interest 
 and friendship, for, in spite of what Sadie 
 had told him, he still felt that Pert be 
 longed to Arthur. 
 
 One night he stayed somewhat later than 
 usual. It had been dreadfully hot all day, 
 but now it was gratefully cool. The stars 
 were bright, as he had never seen them 
 bright before; the scent of the magnolias 
 was delicious, and he and Pert had been 
 singing together. She looked more than 
 sweet in her thin, white dress, and the 
 night, the perfume and the music had 
 stirred him strangely. He longed for the 
 power to tell her in beautiful words, he 
 knew not what. But he had the good
 
 CHECKERS 113 
 
 sense to realize that he and poetry were 
 far apart. Nevertheless, as he said good 
 night, he held her small white hand in his, 
 till she forcibly withdrew it, but not with 
 any sign of anger. 
 
 How his heart swelled as he walked 
 along. How he still thrilled with the 
 gentle pressure he fancied he had felt re 
 turned. Here was the faintest opening to 
 possibilities which might end, who could 
 tell where? He had never before known a 
 girl like this. In fact, with the one ex 
 ception previously mentioned, girls had 
 never in any way entered his life. Still he 
 had learned in his fight with the world to 
 look at everything from a practical stand 
 point, and he had not gone very far before 
 his natural shrewdness asserted itself. 
 
 " It won't do, Campbell," he soliloquized, 
 with an unconscious sigh. " You 're ' play 
 ing a dead one.' It 's a hundred-to-one 
 shot in the first place, and there is Arthur 
 in the second. I wonder how he is to-day. 
 I wonder if he 's going to get well. If he
 
 114 CHECKERS 
 
 should n't but, my God, I hope he does 
 ain't it awful what thoughts will come 
 to a fellow ? 
 
 "I wonder if he 's got her 'nailed;' she 
 does n't act much like it to me. But I 
 do n't believe I 'm acting on the square to 
 try to ' do ' him when he ain't around to 
 look after his trade. I '11 go up home to 
 morrow night and see the old man, if he 's 
 able to sit up. I had my nerve with me 
 to hold her hand I wonder what she 'd 
 have done if I 'd have kissed it? Gee! but 
 it 's tough to be on the tram," he continued 
 with a sigh. "With a couple of thou. what 
 could n't I do? But a man without money 
 hasnt got 'openers;' he draws four to a 
 queen and never betters." 
 
 He found Arthur convalescent and jeal 
 ous of all the time that could be spared to 
 him. So, much to Checkers' disgust, his 
 only opportunity of now seeing Pert 
 lay in her occasional visits to the store, 
 when shopping, generally accompanied by 
 Sadie. 
 
 As soon as Arthur was strong enough to
 
 CHECKERS 115 
 
 be about the house, Aunt Deb, as a little 
 surprise for him, asked Sadie and Pert to 
 one o'clock Sunday dinner. 
 
 Arthur's hollow eyes beamed lovingly 
 from his thin, pale face, as Pert entered 
 the room. Checkers saw it, and his con 
 science smote him. "I'll scratch my 
 entry," he inwardly resolved, "and leave 
 Arthur a walk-over." 
 
 The afternoon passed uneventfully. The 
 day was warm, the sun shone bright, and 
 they all sat under the shade of the trees, 
 enjoying the air and the beautiful view of 
 the mountains, now made gorgeous by the 
 brilliant and variegated colors of the 
 changing autumn leaves. 
 
 Pert so managed that she was not left 
 alone with Arthur at any time, and she 
 and Sadie left somewhat early in order to 
 reach home well before dark. 
 
 After their departure Checkers and Ar 
 thur sat together in the hammock. Arthur 
 was monosyllabic. Checkers talked for a 
 while against time, but not with any bril 
 liant success. " Come, ' smoke up,' old
 
 n6 CHECKERS 
 
 man you 're going out ! " he exclaimed, 
 slapping Arthur on the back, a figure 
 doubtless suggested to him by the dying 
 cigarette-stump between his fingers. 
 
 " I wish to heaven I had ' gone out; ' 
 instead of getting well," was the answer, "I 
 am no good to myself, nor to any one else, 
 and the only being in the world I love, ex 
 cept my father, cares no more for me than 
 she does for a yellow dog." 
 
 There was an embarrassing silence. 
 
 " Girls are funny," said Checkers, mus 
 ingly. 
 
 Arthur saw no grounds for argument, 
 and Checkers continued, " I never had 
 much time for them, myself, but my friend 
 'Push ' Miller had them coming his way in 
 carriages. You never saw such a fellow for 
 girls; he always had three or four on his 
 staff. He used to play a system on them. 
 I think he called it the Fabian System, 
 -cfter some old joker in the war, who used 
 to win his battles by running away. You 
 see, the other guys would come chasing 
 after this joker, and when he got them
 
 CHECKERS 117 
 
 where he wanted, he'd go out and nail 
 them easy thing. 
 
 "Well, this Fabian System was a dead 
 sure winner for Push, and if I were you, 
 I 'd try it. The next time you get to 
 gether, 'jolly up' Sadie. Don't push it 
 too strong; but just enough so that Pert 
 will notice it she'll get jealous. 'Jolly' 
 Sadie harder, but be polite to Pert, and 
 pretty soon you '11 have her guessing. The 
 chances are that before long she '11 make a 
 play at you give her the frozen face. 
 Put up a talk about how much you used to 
 love her; work in something about the 
 past, and what might have been. But keep 
 a little up your sleeve ; you do n't want her 
 to think you 're coming too easy, and after 
 things are all fixed up, do n't treat her too 
 well again. Push used to say ' there was 
 nothing that really spoiled a girl like treat 
 ing her too well.' He used to make a 
 date every once in a while, and then break 
 it without sending any excuse, just to show 
 the girl that he was 'good people,' and 
 teach her to have a proper respect for him."
 
 u8 CHECKERS 
 
 Arthur smiled wearily. " Yes ; " he 
 said, " that may have done all very well for 
 Push, but it would n't do for me. The 
 girl does n't love me, and there 's the end 
 of it. Perhaps some day well, there's 
 no use discussing it ; besides, it would n't 
 be fair to Sadie to use her merely as a 
 cat's-paw. She is a true little girl, with a 
 big, warm heart, and I would n't deceive 
 her for the world." 
 
 " Well, what 's the matter with going out 
 after Sadie in earnest, then ? " said 
 Checkers. "Now there's a scheme that 
 fixes things up all around." Checkers 
 waxed enthusiastic. 
 
 Arthur did not reply immediately. 
 "Sadie is an earnest, capable girl," he 
 said at length, "and she'll make some 
 man a splendid wife. I would cheerfully 
 recommend her to my very best friend, but 
 
 " But your friend could have her without 
 a struggle," suggested Checkers ; and then 
 they both laughed. 
 
 This, Checkers afterwards told me was
 
 CHECKERS 119 
 
 the nearest approach to a joke he ever 
 heard Arthur make. 
 
 A week passed by uneventfully. Arthur 
 continued to improve in health. Checkers 
 drove home each evening tired from his 
 hard day's work. Saturday night a note 
 from Pert arrived, inviting them both to 
 dinner on the following day ; a return of 
 courtesies which they accepted with 
 pleasure. 
 
 Sadie drove up that morning to spend a 
 day or two with her cousin. The dinner 
 passed off pleasantly, and in the afternoon 
 the four took a stroll through the neigh 
 boring woods, to a beautiful spot where 
 from the top of a cliff of massive rock they 
 could gaze for miles up the dark, thickly 
 wooded ravine, lying sheer many feet 
 below. 
 
 Sadie and Arthur walked off together. 
 Checkers and Pert followed leisurely. 
 
 " Do you think you deserve to be treated 
 so well, after neglecting me as you have 
 lately?" asked Pert. 
 
 " I have n't been able to get here, Miss
 
 120 CHECKERS 
 
 Pert," replied Checkers. " The Broadway 
 cable is n't in it with the way I 've been 
 pulling to get away ; but if Arthur had 
 known I was coming here, we would only 
 have had a speaking acquaintance. I '11 
 tell you, Miss Pert, that poor boy is all 
 broke up about you, and to come down to 
 cases, it ain't very safe for me to be seeing 
 so much of you, when well, you know 
 he saw you first, and the rights of property 
 
 "Now, listen to me," interrupted Pert, 
 with a stamp of her foot, " Arthur is 
 nothing to me ; I do n't love him and I 
 shall never marry him. I 've told him so, 
 and I '11 tell you so. I 've enjoyed having 
 you call here very much, and there 's no 
 reason why you should n't come unless, 
 of course, you would rather not." 
 
 Ahead, Arthur was carefully help 
 ing Sadie over a fallen tree which lay 
 across the path. " He 's playing the sys 
 tem, after all," thought Checkers, "I'll 
 help him push it along. May I come
 
 CHECKERS 121 
 
 co-morrow night ? " he said ; " it 's the 
 first night I 've got disengaged." 
 
 "Certainly," laughed Pert. "Sadie is 
 going to stay until Tuesday morning, 
 and" 
 
 " Make it Tuesday night." 
 
 Pert assented with an audible chuckle. 
 
 And now they had come to the fallen 
 tree, an ancient pine of huge dimensions. 
 Checkers clambered atop of it, and, 
 taking both of Pert's hands, pulled her up ; 
 then, from the other side, he supported 
 her tenderly as she jumped to the ground. 
 'Twas a rapturous moment. The fair, 
 sweet face above him, and the bright, 
 roguish eyes looking down into his ; the 
 warm, red lips, half parted in a smile, and 
 coming so near as he carefully lowered 
 her, tempted him sorely. But he resisted ; 
 not from any strength of virtue, but be 
 cause he did not dare to do otherwise. 
 
 " Thank you," said Pert. Checkers was 
 silent. His emotions of mingled excite 
 ment and regret were such that he could
 
 122 CHECKERS 
 
 not trust his voice ; but as they drew neat 
 to where Arthur and Sadie were sitting, he 
 purposely drew away from Pert, and 
 feigned a look of general indifference, 
 which was masterly in its way. 
 
 " I may possibly stay down to-night, 
 Arthur," called Checkers, as he drove out 
 of the door-yard Tuesday morning. 
 
 Tuesday night found him seated with 
 Pert in the cozy, old-fashioned little sitting- 
 room, before the blazing embers of a large, 
 wood fire, for it had suddenly turned cold. 
 
 Checkers had brought up the illustrated 
 papers, and with these and the banjo, with 
 nuts and apples, pop-corn and cider, for 
 refection, time sped merrily on. 
 
 Now, just how it all came about that 
 night, Checkers never adequately explained 
 to me. He always claimed, shamefacedly, 
 to have a confused recollection of the mat 
 ter. But suffice it to say, there came an 
 opportunity, and, forgetting his former 
 resolutions, forgetting his poverty every 
 thing, he told as best he could the story of 
 his love to the listening girl beside
 
 CHECKERS 123 
 
 What matter how he told it ? She cared 
 not for that, so long as the tale rang true 
 to her ears ; and of Checkers' whole 
 hearted sincerity, there was never a doubt, 
 as after events proved. 
 
 The strangeness of a woman's love has 
 been a prolific source of wonder and re 
 mark for philosophers of every age. It 
 should not, therefore, seem incongruous 
 that Checkers, penniless, slangy, illiterate, 
 should have won, in a few, short weeks, the 
 love of a girl whom Arthur, a higher type, 
 from a worldly standpoint, had tried for 
 years to make his own, without success. 
 Perhaps the explanation lay in the fact 
 that Checkers possessed two qualities in 
 which Arthur was wholly lacking tact 
 and magnetism ; and again, Pert was too 
 young and inexperienced to let worldly 
 advantages weigh with her. 
 
 At all events, they sat there together, 
 blissful in their new-found happiness, talk 
 ing the love all lovers talk, and heedless ot 
 the speeding hours. 
 
 As Checkers rather coyly put it, " There
 
 124 CHECKERS 
 
 was n't very much room in the room." 
 The fire had died almost to ashes, and for 
 the hundredth time he had said, " I must 
 go," when suddenly he was jerked from 
 his seat by a rough hand which had laid 
 hold of his collar. 
 
 With a violent effort he broke away, and, 
 turning about, faced Mr. Barlow. 
 
 " So ! " snorted the old man, angrily, 
 " so this is what ye 're doin', is it, settin' 
 here philanderin'? I reckoned somethin' 
 was gcin' on. You go to yer room, girl ; 
 come, git along. And you, my young jack- 
 snipe, mosey off afore I wear ye out with a 
 switch." 
 
 Checkers' surprise had been so complete 
 that for a moment he could not collect 
 himself. Then such was his sense of anger 
 at the indignity that had been put upon 
 him that only Pert's hand upon his arm 
 restrained him from making a fight of it. 
 As it was, the two men stood with an arm 
 chair between them, grimly glaring at each 
 other. 
 
 "Father," cried Pert, peeping timidly
 
 CHECKERS 125 
 
 from behind Checkers, " Mr. Campbell and 
 I are engaged to be married." 
 
 " To be what ? " howled the old man, 
 dancing with rage. 
 
 "To be married," said Checkers. "Now, 
 listen to me, and don't you get so gay 
 with yourself. I love your daughter ; she 
 loves me ; we are going to be married, and 
 that 's the end of it." 
 
 Checkers stepped back. It was well that 
 he did, for the old man suddenly reached 
 for him, " and if he 'd have got me," said 
 Checkers, afterwards, relating the incident 
 to me, " he would n't have done a thing to 
 me. We made a few laps around the room," 
 he continued, " with the chairs and table 
 in the middle. The old man ran a bang- 
 up second, but he was 'carrying weight 
 for age,' and I fouled him in the stretch, 
 by pulling a rocker in the way, that he 
 stumbled over; then, I opened the door, 
 kissed Pert good by, grabbed my hat, and 
 did the slide for the road. The old jokei 
 tried to ' sic ' the dogs on me, but they 
 knew me so well they would n't ' sic.' "
 
 126 CHECKERS 
 
 It had long been a pet scheme of Mr. 
 Barlow's to marry Pert to Arthur Kendall. 
 In fact, he considered the matter settled, 
 and had often congratulated himself upon 
 his prospects of securing a wealthy son-in- 
 law. The presumption, therefore, of this 
 " little pauper " drove him nearly beside 
 himself. 
 
 Pert thought it wise to spend most of 
 her time in her room next day, until the 
 first burst of his anger should have sub 
 sided. 
 
 As Checkers drove home the following 
 evening, he was met by Tobe, the hired 
 man, about a mile from the house. " Hello, 
 Tobe," he called, " what 's up?" 
 
 " Thar 's hell out, Mr. Checkers," said 
 Tobe. 
 
 "Has old Barlow been up here?' 
 
 " He ain't gone two hours." 
 
 Checkers smiled. He was glad to know 
 the worst. " I suppose I 'm not very popu 
 lar with Arthur?" 
 
 " He swars he '11 fill ye full o' lead. I 
 overheern the hull conversation atween
 
 CHECKERS 127 
 
 'em, and I 'lowed I 'd come down and warn 
 ye. Mr. Kendall and Aunt Deb 's gone to 
 Little Rock, and won't be back afore to 
 morrow night." 
 
 " Thank you, Tobe; get in and ride." 
 
 "Wai, till we gits in sight o' the house; 
 
 but do n't you 'low you 'd better go back ? " 
 
 " No; I '11 go on and face the music." 
 
 "Thar never was nawthin' but trouble 
 
 come o' foolin' with women, anyhow," said 
 
 Tobe. " I 've had four on 'em in my time, 
 
 and they've worn the soul-case off'n me.' 1 
 
 " Four! " exclaimed Checkers. 
 
 " Yes, I 've had four. My first woman 
 
 spent me out o' house and home, and 
 
 then run away I was glad to get shet 
 
 o' her. The second un I jest nachally 
 
 could n't live with, she hed sech a pizen-bad 
 
 temper; and I 've had two others to die on 
 
 me. I 've worked like a nigger airnin' 'em 
 
 money fer cloes, and doctor's bills and sich, 
 
 and not one on 'era but what 'ud claim she 
 
 wa'n't well treated. The trouble with 
 
 women is that a man takes and treats 'em so 
 
 well when he 's a-courtin' of 'em, that after
 
 128 CHECKERS 
 
 they 're married, plain, ordinary, every-day 
 treatment seems like cruelty to 'em." 
 
 This was a phase of the woman question 
 which had never before occurred to Check 
 ers; but the weight of suspense at his heart 
 prevented his encouraging Tobe to further 
 reminiscence. 
 
 As he drove into the door-yard, Arthur 
 came out of the house, trembling and pale 
 with anger and excitement. 
 
 "Hello, Arthur?" called Checkers, 
 cheerily. 
 
 "Traitor, hypocrite," was the answer; 
 "how can you look me in the face?" 
 
 " Oh, get used to it." 
 
 " Ha! you make a jest of it, do you?" 
 
 " Of what, your face? " 
 
 Arthur grew livid. " It 's easy and safe 
 for you to taunt a man who is just recover 
 ing from a weakening sickness," he said. 
 " If it were n't for my father, I 'd shoot you 
 like the cur that you are, if I hanged for 
 it." 
 
 Checkers jumped to the ground. "Now, 
 look here, Arthur Kendall," he said threat-
 
 CHECKERS 129 
 
 eningly. "I won't stand any such talk 
 from any one. If you 're making your roar 
 about Miss Barlow, and I suppose you are, 
 I '11 tell you this; The girl doesn't love 
 you and never did, and why you should 
 want to do the dog-in-the-manger act is 
 more than I can see." 
 
 "No; of course she doesn't love me, if 
 a sneaking Judas goes and betrays me to 
 her." 
 
 " I never mentioned your name to her, 
 unless it was to say something good about 
 you." 
 
 " You lie! You told her all about our 
 affair at Hot Springs." 
 
 " I did no such thing." 
 
 "You did. She told her father about 
 it, and he told me this very afternoon." 
 
 " Did he say I told her? " 
 
 "Who else could have told her? do you 
 think I told her? " 
 
 " I do n't know, and, what 's more, I do n't 
 care a damn. I do n't want any trouble 
 with you, but I have n't got the temper of 
 *n angel, and I 'd advise you to take a
 
 i 3 o CHECKERS 
 
 tumble to yourself until I 'm gone and 
 that won't be longer than it takes me to 
 get my stuff into my trunk." 
 
 " It can't be any too quick to suit me." 
 
 Checkers started for the house, but 
 
 stopped half-way, and turned for a parting 
 
 word, while Arthur stood still, and eyed 
 
 him malignantly. 
 
 "Now, listen, Arthur Kendall," sa ; d 
 Checkers earnestly; " and these are the 
 last words I 'm going to say. I 've been 
 on the square with you from the day I met 
 you, and if our positions were reversed, I 'd 
 take you by the hand and wish you all 
 kinds of happiness, but as it is, you show 
 the yellow streak I always thought you had 
 in you it's wider than I thought it was, 
 that 's all.. But just keep saying this over 
 to yourself: ' I love that girl and I 'm 
 going to have her, in spite of her father, 
 or you, or the world.' " And turning on 
 his heel, Checkers went into the house to 
 collect his few, poor, little belongings.
 
 VII. 
 
 That same night Pert, after another 
 stormy interview with her father, had gone 
 to her roorr., and, throwing herself on her 
 little white bed, in a paroxysm of bitter 
 grief, had softly sobbed herself to sleep. 
 
 Gradually into her d/ earns there came 
 the whistled notes oS a familiar little 
 cadence, faint and far away at first, but 
 growing louder and nearer until she awoke 
 with a start. 
 
 It was " a whistle " which Checkers had 
 taught her weeks before, and ran as follows: 
 
 -JV-- 
 
 Come, my love, and walk with 
 
 walk with thee. 
 
 Ta ra - dura.
 
 132 CHECKERS 
 
 At this time, however, Checkers, standing 
 down in the road outside, had cut the "ta- 
 ra-dum " as flippant and irrelevant a 
 delicacy which, in her trepidation, Pert 
 failed to remark. But, jumping up, she 
 lighted her lamp, and cautiously exposed 
 it at the window for a moment Then, 
 thanking fortune that she chanced to be 
 dressed, she slipped a warm wrap over her 
 shoulders, and stole down the stairs, out 
 into the night. 
 
 Checkers folded her in his arms, and 
 kissed her gently. " My darling," he mur 
 mured, "you haven't let them turn you 
 against me, have you ? " 
 
 "Why, Checkers dear," she answered, 
 looking into his eyes, " the whole world 
 couldn't turn me against you I love 
 you." Checkers kissed her again. 
 
 In the bright starlight they sat together, 
 once more on the little rustic bench under 
 the tree, listening with ready sympathy, as 
 each related to each the trials of the day. 
 
 "No, little sweetheart," said Checkers 
 finally, " there is no possible way for me
 
 CHECKERS 133 
 
 to stay in Clarksville. The old man is 
 practically right, I am a pauper, but I won't 
 be long. Pert, I can hustle, when I want 
 to; I've got enough money to take me to 
 Chicago, and keep me till I can get a job* 
 When I get to work I '11 salt every cent, 
 and with any kind of luck, I '11 come back 
 and get you within a year. A year is not 
 such a very long while." And with a show 
 of genuine enthusiasm, Checkers ended by 
 talking the downcast girl into a happy 
 confidence in himself and the future. 
 
 " And now, Pert," he said, solicitously, 
 " it 's too cold for you to stay out here 
 longer ; come, we must be brave, and say 
 good-bye." 
 
 "O, Checkers," she exclaimed, with a 
 choking sob, suddenly throwing her arms 
 around his neck, " I can't bear to let you 
 go ; I shall be miserable, miserable without 
 /ou." 
 
 Tenderly Checkers soothed and reasoned 
 with her. Once more their plans were 
 gone over. Checkers was to leave in the 
 morning for Chicago. He was to write to
 
 134 CHECKERS 
 
 her a? often as possible, addressing the 
 letters to Sadie, whom Pert knew she could 
 depend upon. Checkers was to bend every 
 effort towards getting a position and sav 
 ing money ; and Pert was to be brave, and 
 wait the common lot of women. 
 
 With his arm around her, lovingly, he 
 led her slowly to the house. Again and 
 again they said good-bye ; but there is 
 something in the word which makes us 
 linger. 
 
 "Some little keepsake, sweetheart," he 
 whispered "this ribbon, or your hand 
 kerchief." 
 
 "No ; wait here a minute," she answered. 
 Carefully entering the house, she crept to 
 her room, and from its hiding-place brought 
 forth a fifty-dollar gold piece. It was of 
 California gold, octagonal in shape, and 
 minted many years before. 
 
 " Here, dear," she said, returning noise 
 lessly. " Here is a coin that was given me 
 long ago by my grandfather take it as a 
 lucky-piece. And whenever you see it, 
 think of one who loves you and is praying
 
 CHECKERS 135 
 
 for you. And, Checkers, if you should 
 have misfortune, and should really need to ; 
 do n't hesitate to spend it ; because, you 
 see, if you do n't have good luck, so that 
 you do n't need to spend it, why it is n't ? 
 lucky piece, and you 'd better get rid of it 
 that is, if if you have to." 
 
 Checkers embraced her passionately. 
 " My darling," he protested, " I shall have 
 to be nearer starving to death than I 've 
 ever been, or expect to be, before I part 
 with this. I shall treasure it as a keepsake 
 from the dearest, sweetest, prettiest, sandi 
 est girl in the world ; the one that I love 
 and the one that loves me; and here 
 here 's a scarfpin that once was my father's. 
 They say opals are unlucky. Well, fathergot 
 shot, but I wore it the lucky day I met 
 you ; so that does n't prove anything 
 wear it for my sake. Now, dear, I must go. 
 Keep a stiff upper lip, and do n't let the 
 ld man get in his bluff on you. Win your 
 mother over she'll help you out. I 
 think she likes me ; I am sure I do her. 
 I '11 write to you every day. Good-bye,
 
 136 CHECKERS 
 
 my precious I '11 be back for you soon ; 
 good-bye, good-bye." 
 
 One last fond embrace, one lingering 
 kiss, and Checkers turned and walked 
 resolutely away. 
 
 The next morning early he bid the 
 Bradleys a sorrowful farewell, and boarded 
 the train for Little Rock. Mr. Bradley 
 gave him letters to a number of merchants 
 there, but he was unable to find employ 
 ment. In fact, he only sought it in a half 
 hearted way ; Little Rock was too small, 
 too near Clarksville. Chicago was his 
 Mecca. He felt a happy presentiment 
 that once there circumstances would some 
 how solve for him the problem of exist 
 ence. But, alas, for vain hopes ! Day 
 after day, from door to door, he sought 
 employment without success. The answers 
 he received to his inquiries for work were 
 ever the same: "Business was dull; they 
 were reducing rather than increasing their 
 forces; sorry, but if anything turned up 
 they would let him know." At times he 
 received just enough encouragement to
 
 CHECKERS 137 
 
 make his eventual failure the more dis 
 heartening and cruel. 
 
 How could he write to Pert under such 
 circumstances? At first it had not been 
 so hard ; but now he had put it off from 
 day to day, dreading to tell her of his non- 
 success, always hoping that surely to-mor 
 row he must have good news, until fully a 
 week elapsed in which he had not written. 
 How troublesome a thing is pride to the 
 poor. 
 
 In the course of his wanderings he came 
 across numbers of the old companions of 
 his pool-room days. Few of them had 
 changed, but for the worse. Most of them 
 were penniless, hungry and threadbare, but 
 still the victims of the hopeless vice, and 
 whenever fortune threw in their way a dol 
 lar, it went into the insatiable maw of 
 the race-tracks. Checkers noted and was 
 warned ; and to their earnest solicitations 
 to "play their good things" he pointed 
 them to their own condition a pertinent 
 and unanswerable argument. 
 
 But though never so careful the time
 
 138 CHECKERS 
 
 came apace when his little hoard was all 
 but exhausted. His treasured keepsake he 
 still vowed nothing should make him part 
 with. " If I 've got to starve," he grimlj 
 resolved, " it might as well be a week 01 
 two earlier as later but I '11 keep Pert'i 
 gold piece." 
 
 That same day he received from Pert a 
 letter full of encouragement, but pleading 
 with him, as he loved her, to write. " All 
 in the world that I have to look forward to 
 now, Checkers, dear," she said, " is your 
 letters ; and you can 't imagine how disap 
 pointed I am, and how I worry for fear 
 you are sick, or something, as the days go 
 by, and no word comes from you." 
 
 Standing by the window in his dismal 
 boarding-house room Checkers read the 
 letter over and over. Meditatively he ex 
 amined his pockets nothing! nothing 
 but the gold piece. Something must be 
 done. There were a number of garments 
 hanging on the wall, among them an over 
 coat. "I can do without that," he said, 
 with a shiver.
 
 CHECKERS 139 
 
 Half an hour later, richer by a few pieces 
 of silver, he stood in a telegraph- office, 
 penning a message to Pert. "Letter re 
 ceived," he wrote. "Am well, but no 
 iuck. Will write to-day. Checkers." 
 
 Beside him as he wrote, stood a man 
 whom he recognized one Brown, an 
 owner of a racing-stable. With the tail of 
 his eye Checkers read what he was writing. 
 It was a telegram to some one in St. Louis, 
 and ran : " Stand a tap on the mare to 
 day. She can't lose." Checkers' heart 
 was in his mouth. Instantly his resolution 
 was taken. Out into the street he followed 
 Brown. With the furtive care of a Hack- 
 shaw he shadowed him in and out of hotels 
 and saloons, until about noon they brought 
 tip at a restaurant, where Checkers mod 
 estly seated himself at a table behind Brown 
 and ordered a light repast. But Brown was 
 hungry, and Checkers had ample time to 
 think the thing over. " I 'm in luck at 
 last," he soliloquized. " Stand a tap on 
 the mare 1 His friend will play it in 
 the foreign -book at East St. Lou'o and
 
 140 CHECKERS 
 
 he '11 play it at the track. It must be a 
 'hot one' I wonder what the odds will 
 be. Well, I '11 keep this can 't-shake-me 
 glide on my feet till I see what he plays, 
 and then 'get down* on it myself. I '11 
 put up the gold -piece, and stand to either 
 lose it or make a stake for myself. Some 
 how I 'd feel better to have it go in one last 
 effort to make a killin' than to spend it a 
 quarter at a time on sandwiches and cigar 
 ettes. To-night I '11 either be able to 
 write to Pert that my luck has turned, or 
 I '11 know the worst, and that 's some com 
 fort. Ah, Brown 's paying his bill at last." 
 
 The summer meeting at Washington 
 Park, with large purses and high- class 
 horses, was over and gone. But there were 
 other tracks where racing was carried on 
 all the fall and most of the winter ; 
 gambling-hells, pure and simple, or rather, 
 purely and simply gambling-hells, which 
 the Legislature has since effectively closed. 
 
 In the betting-ring of one of these, that 
 afternoon, Checkers threaded his way 
 through the crowd after Brown. The pro-
 
 CHECKERS 141 
 
 gramme showed that Brown had an entry 
 in the last race Remorse, an aged selling- 
 plater. Checkers remembered the horse 
 as one that had shown considerable speed 
 as a three-year-old. He glanced at the 
 programme again : Remorse, by Gambler, 
 dam Sweetheart. Was it an omen ? Re 
 morse would certainly follow if he gambled 
 away the keepsake which his sweetheart 
 had given him. But would n't an equally 
 poignant regret possess him if after this 
 providential tip he failed to play the 
 horse and she won ? He felt that it 
 would. 
 
 The fourth race was on, and the last 
 was approaching. Brown stood at the 
 edge of the ring, his hands in his pockets, 
 smoking idly. The official results of the 
 fourth were announced, and the book 
 makers tacked up the entries for the last. 
 Still, Brown seemed nonchalant. 
 
 Checkers anxiously watched the posting 
 of the odds. " Remorse, four to one," he 
 exclaimed under his breath. Brown also 
 glanced at the blackboards and lighted
 
 142 CHECKERS 
 
 a fresh cigar. Every minute some one 
 would buttonhole him, and ask, " How 
 about Remorse ? " " O, she 's got a 
 chance," he would answer, with a shrug 
 which seemed to indicate that she had no 
 chance. 
 
 The favorite, under a heavy play, was 
 rapidly cut to even money, while the odds 
 on the others were correspondingly in 
 creased. Remorse went to five and six to 
 one. Brown took fifty dollars out of his 
 pocket, and, going up to a prominent book 
 maker, played the favorite. Checkers 
 was paralyzed. The same performance 
 Brown repeated with another book-maker 
 on the other side of the ring. Gradually 
 Remorse's price went up to eight to one, as 
 it became generally known that her owner 
 was not playing her. 
 
 The favorite's odds went to "four to 
 five," and Checkers fingered his gold piece 
 nervously. One book-maker still laid even 
 money. Here was his chance if he wanted 
 to play it. He started forward, and 
 stopoed. As he hesitated. Brown sauntered
 
 CHECKERS 143 
 
 out of the ring. Checkers followed me 
 chanically. 
 
 From a distance he saw Brown meet two 
 hors'emen and, after a brief conversation, 
 give them each a roll of bills. He saw 
 these two enter the betting-ring and, tak 
 ing opposite sides, " start down the line " 
 on Remorse ; then the scheme was re 
 vealed to him. 
 
 From stand to stand they went, betting 
 Remorse in ^ach book, ten and twenty 
 dollars at a time ; not enough to cause re 
 mark, but amounting to hundreds in the 
 aggregate. Gradually the odds began to 
 recede. Checkers rushed to the other end 
 of the ring. " Gimme Remorse ! " he ex 
 claimed, excitedly, handing his gold-piece 
 to a convenient blockman. 
 
 " What the 'ell 's this ?" asked the won 
 dering book-maker. 
 
 " It 's fifty," answered Checkers, lacon 
 ically. 
 
 "Well, it's the first time I ever seen 
 one of them babies but it looks like it's 
 good. Remorse, four hundred to fifty. '
 
 144 CHECKERS 
 
 " If I win, I want it back," said Checkers. 
 " It was given to me by it 's my luckj 
 piece." 
 
 "All right," was the answer, and 
 Checkers walked away with his dearly pur 
 chased ticket deep in his pocket. 
 
 Under a steady but somewhat mysteri 
 ous play, Remorse was cut to four to one, 
 and the favorite went up to six to five. 
 This was gratifying to Checkers, as in 
 dicating that Brown and his friends were 
 confident. 
 
 He went up into the grand stand ; the 
 horses were at the post. Remorse was act 
 ing very badly plunging, kicking and 
 refusing to break. " I '11 just about get 
 left at the post," thought Checkers. " Say, 
 that favorite looks good," he remarked io 
 a young feltow next to him. 
 
 "Good," echoed the youth; "well, I 
 should say he is good. He 's cherry-ripe, 
 and he '11 gallop in. If I had a thousand 
 dollars, and did n't know where I was goin' 
 to eat to-night, I 'd put it all on him. 
 The - e 's a lot of ' marks ' around toutin*
 
 CHECKERS 145 
 
 Remorse to beat him why, that old maie 
 could n't beat a carpet ; her last two races 
 she could n't get out of her own way." 
 
 This was pleasant for Checkers, but he 
 held his counsel. The next moment the 
 starter dropped the flag. 
 
 Remorse, with a running start from be 
 hind, got two lengths the best of it ; and, 
 setting a hot pace, widened up the gap be 
 tween herself and the field in a way that 
 cheered Checkers' heart. 
 
 It was a three-quarter dash, and at the 
 half she had a lead of at least ten lengths, 
 with the ethers strung out in a regular pro 
 cession. The favorite was trailing along 
 in fifth place ; but Checkers noticed that 
 he was " running easy." The jockey was 
 leaning back in the saddle, and the horse's 
 mouth was pulled wide open, as he fought 
 for his head under a double wrap. 
 
 As they rounded into the stretch Re 
 morse still led, but she seemed to be tiring 
 rapidly. The favorite swung very wide at 
 the turn, losing several lengths ; his jockey 
 then drew in behind three others, and
 
 146 CHECKERS 
 
 allowed himself to be hopelessly " pock 
 eted." 
 
 Up to now Checkers' new acquaintance 
 had been silent; but at this exhibition of 
 incompetent jockeyship he expressed a 
 desire to be "good and damned if that 
 ride would n't frost a cigar-sign Indian." 
 
 Under whip and spur Remorse staggered 
 on two lengths in the lead. Within fifty 
 feet of the wire the favorite got through, 
 and coming with a rush, as it seemed almost 
 in spite of his jockey's efforts to restrain 
 him, he nipped Remorse on the post. 
 
 From where Checkers stood it looked 
 as though Remorse was beaten half a 
 length. The crowd yelled with delight ; 
 No. 4 was posted. Checkers looked at his 
 programme " Remorse, No. 4." Then 
 it was his turn to yell, and he rather 
 abused his privilege. The tumult of varied 
 emotion within him demanded this vent, 
 and he gave it full play. " I thought I was 
 out of it," he laughed delightedly to the 
 young man beside him. " It looked like
 
 CHECKERS 147 
 
 it, did n't it, at the angle ? You see, Re 
 morse had the rail." 
 
 But the young man was n't interested in 
 Checkers' good luck. Just then he had 
 " troubles of his own." He vouchsafed one 
 glance of sour contempt and hurried off tc 
 try to borrow car-fare from some one. 
 
 Often Checkers had won and lost more 
 money than was involved in his present 
 venture and stood it stoically; but never 
 before had his need been so great, and he 
 had reason to know that necessity and luck 
 have at best little more than a speaking 
 acquaintance. Exultantly, therefore, he 
 skipped down the stairs into the betting- 
 ring. " You can 't keep a squirrel on the 
 ground," he chuckled. "They've got to 
 stop printing money when I ain't got 
 some." The next minute he was in line 
 behind the stand where he had made his 
 purchase, tightly grasping the ticket which 
 was to give him back his gold -piece and 
 four hundred dollars. 
 
 Foui hundred dollars 1 It was a snug
 
 /48 CHECKERS 
 
 little sum. The gold -piece had proved a 
 mascot after all. Now, he would "get 
 out " his overcoat and purchase some other 
 necessary articles. He decided to pay off 
 his landlady and find some more inviting 
 quarters. But the pleasantest thought of 
 all was that now he could write to Pert. 
 The delight he found in this reflection 
 could only have been surpassed by the joy 
 of seeing her in person. He did not know 
 what he should say ; but he knew that with 
 this load off his heart, and with the re 
 turn to self-respect which this success had 
 brought him, he would be able to write a 
 letter which would encourage and cheer 
 her it should be his first task. He 
 longed to be at it, and he began to chafe 
 at what seemed an unusual delay in an 
 nouncing " the official." 
 
 Turning, he glanced toward the judge's 
 stand. There was a surging, interested 
 crowd around it. A presentiment of sud 
 den misfortune came over him. Almost 
 at the same moment the air was rent by 
 joyous yells from hundreds of throats.
 
 CHECKERS 149 
 
 The crowd turned about, and with one 
 accord made a rush for the betting-ring. 
 
 In the van was Checkers' surly acquaint 
 ance surly no longer, but radiant with a 
 smile which extended from ear to ear. 
 Checkers broke from the line, and grabbed 
 him by the arm. "What 's up ?" he ex 
 claimed. " What 's the yelling about ? " 
 
 " All bets off," was the glad rejoinder ; 
 "*he favorite was 'pulled.' The judges 
 *re onto a job in the race. It was ' fixed ' 
 for Remorse. We all get our money back. 
 Let go I 'm in a hurry." 
 
 Checkers stood as though paralyzed 
 from an actual blow. His eyes were fixed 
 and his lips were colorless. " By the bald- 
 headed, knock-kneed Jove 1" he exclaimed, 
 suddenly rousing himself with a vehement 
 gesture ; " if my luck ain't " But he 
 felt it impossible to do the occasion justice. 
 
 With a set face and a heavy heart ht 
 again lined up behind the stand. In turn 
 he was given his gold piece in exchange 
 for his ticket, but the $400 was gone, to 
 return no more forever.
 
 150 CHECKERS 
 
 Under any sudden and crucial misfor 
 tune the subsequent action of the average 
 man is largely a matter of temperament. 
 Numbers, no doubt, in Checkers' position 
 would have felt themselves justified m 
 drowning their sorrows in the flowing bowl. 
 Others, with the obstinacy of despair, 
 might have sought, perforce, the smiles 
 of frowning fortune, throwing discretion 
 to the winds, and risking their all at any 
 desperate game chance threw in their way 
 until satiated. A few might have taken 
 their hard luck resignedly, only thankful 
 ttiat it was no worse, and hoping for better 
 hick next time such are they who, in the 
 end, succeed. ' 
 
 These alternatives occurred to Checkers 
 in turn, and he effected a sort of com 
 promise. He needed a temporary excite 
 ment of some sort as a counter-irritant 
 to his nerves. He was tired and hungry, 
 and he decided that his first move would 
 be to get a good supper. He did n't 
 care how good or what it cost he was 
 tired of practicing economy. But he must
 
 CHECKERS 151 
 
 have some money ; it would hardly do to 
 "spring" the fifty in a restaurant. Ah I 
 Uncle Isaac ! Yes, he believed he could 
 pawn the gold piece as he would a watch, 
 and then if luck ever came his way, he 
 would have a chance of redeeming it. , 
 The staid old waiters in a fashionable 
 cafe" smiled that evening as a youthful 
 figure entered with an unaccustomed air, 
 and, seating himself at one of the tables, 
 studied the menu earnestly. A few deft 
 suggestions from one of them, however, 
 put him in the way of a very good supper ; 
 and with a pint of Mumm's to wash it down, 
 and a cigarette to top off with, Checkers, 
 for it was he, began to feel that things 
 might have been a bit worse after all. As 
 he stepped into the street, the glaring and 
 impossible posters of a spectacular show at 
 a neighboring theater caught his eye and 
 decided him. Five minutes later he was 
 comfortably seated in the front row of 
 the orchestra chairs, enjoying himself in 
 present forgetfulness of troubles past or 
 troubles to come.
 
 152 CHECKERS 
 
 Now, I fear, that to properly do my part 
 I should here create a dream for Checkers 
 to have had that night, in which Pert, Re 
 morse, a waiter, and a comedian should all 
 take more or less senseless parts. But be 
 ing somewhat skeptical myself, I was care 
 ful to question Checkers on this point, espe 
 cially when I afterward learned what great 
 things the morrow had in store for him. 
 And, in spite of all precedent, he confessed 
 to the oblivion of " the insensate clod," 
 devoid of dream or premonition, until nine 
 the next morning, when he awoke with a 
 start. With the awakening came a realiz 
 ing sense of his situation in all its most 
 disheartening phases. His course of the 
 night before now seemed to him the height 
 of idiocy. He reproached himself in no 
 measured terms for having neglected to 
 write to Pert as promised in his telegram. 
 " I ought to have a guardian appointed to 
 look after me," he grumbled to himself. 
 " Think of my blowing myself for wine 
 and the show, with starvation staring me 
 in the face ; and then to think of that poe?
 
 CHECKERS 153 
 
 little girl expecting a letter, and not get 
 ting it." 
 
 He was interrupted by a knock at the 
 door. "A letter for you, Mr. Campbell," 
 said the servant. Taking it from her he 
 recognized the well-known writing of his 
 beloved. He put the letter in his pocket, 
 and, grabbing his hat, started down the 
 stairs. "I 'm too late for breakfast here," he 
 exclaimed ; " I '11 go next door to the 
 'beanery' and get a roll and a cup of coffee. 
 I 've got to play 'em close to my vest now," 
 he sighed. " A dime is nothing when 
 you 've got it, but it 's bigger than a 
 mountain when you have n't ; and it won 't 
 be long before I have n't at this rate." 
 
 Seated on a little round stool at the cor 
 ner in the "beanery," he gave his order, 
 \ und then opened and commenced to read 
 Ms letter. A newspaper clipping dropped 
 to the floor; he picked it up mechanically, 
 continuing his reading as he did so. Sud 
 denly he began to glance from one to the 
 other rapidly. An instant later he jumped 
 to his feet, and rushed to the window for a
 
 I 5 4 CHECKERS 
 
 better light. It could n't be true it sim 
 ply could n't ! Yes, yes, it must be; foi 
 here was a notice from the public adminis 
 trator in Baltimore, advertising for him as 
 an heir of Giles Edward Campbell, de 
 ceased, who died intestate, etc., etc., and 
 Judge Martin, so Pert said in the letter, 
 had had an inquiry regarding him, with 
 the statement that the only knowledge the 
 authorities had of such a person was based 
 upon a letter found among the effects of 
 the deceased, headed " Eastman Hotel, 
 Hot Springs," beginning " My dear Uncle," 
 and signed " Your affectionate nephew, 
 Edward Campbell." The clerk at the East 
 man, when applied to, had reported a mem 
 orandum left by Checkers, that any mail 
 which might come for him be forwarded to 
 Clarksville, Ark.; hence this letter to Judge 
 Martin, and hence Pert's knowledge of the 
 matter, as her uncle immediately applied 
 to her for the necessary information. 
 
 " Uncle has written to Baltimore to-day," 
 continued the letter, "and he says you will 
 hear from the authorities there without
 
 CHECKERS 155 
 
 delay. The inclosed clipping is from a 
 Little Rock paper. Oh 1 Checkers, dar 
 ling, is n't it lovely ? " 
 
 The slovenly waiter shuffled to the coun 
 ter with his cup of muddy coffee and a 
 soggy roll. Checkers tossed him half a 
 dollar, and stalked majestically out. "I 
 think the joint where I ate last night 
 is just about my size this morning," he 
 chuckled. "Gee, but I 'd like to yell just 
 once. The judges can't call all bets off 
 this time." All during breakfast his mind 
 was busy with a thousand different specu 
 lations, and he finally decided that in so 
 momentous a matter he ought to consult a 
 lawyer. " I '11 find one in some big office 
 building," he mentally resolved, " and get 
 his advice." 
 
 MURRAY JAMESON, 
 Attorney-at-Law. 
 
 This, in modest gold letters upon an office 
 window, was the first thing he saw 
 reaching the street.
 
 156 CHECKERS 
 
 " Everything 's coming my way to-day, 
 he thought. " Well, I '11 go in and see the 
 old joker." 
 
 He was much taken aback upon enter 
 ing, however, to find the "old joker" a 
 man of about thirty. 
 
 " Is Mr. Jameson in ? " he asked. 
 
 " I am Mr. Jameson," was the reply. 
 
 " Well, I wanted to get a little advice, 
 but" 
 
 "Certainly; come into my private office." 
 
 Checkers was trapped. " I do n't be 
 lieve," he began desperately, " that you '11 
 be able to help me. It 's a very important 
 case, and well, I I want some one 
 with a lot of experience." 
 
 " As you like," said Mr. Jameson, who, 
 by the way, was none other than my old 
 friend Murray, " but I 've been practicing 
 law for more than five years." 
 
 " Well, that 's enough practice to learn 
 any game;" and, seating himself, Checkers 
 told him the facts as succinctly as possible 
 from the beginning. 
 
 Of his uncle's circumstances he really
 
 CHECKERS 157 
 
 knew nothing ; but he remembered hearing 
 his mother speak of him, just before her 
 death, as being "well off," and "Uncle 
 Giles was n't the kind, once he had a dol 
 lar, ever to let it get away." 
 
 If Checkers' chronology was correct, 
 it was clear that he was the only heir, and 
 "whether his Uncle left much or little, it 
 was that much better than nothing at all." 
 But Murray somewhat damped his en 
 thusiasm by the statement that there might 
 be bills and claims of various sorts against 
 the estate, which, in the end, would show 
 it to be insolvent. However, he agreed to 
 take the matter up at once, and be content 
 to receive his fee when the final settlement 
 was made. 
 
 Checkers spent the rest of the day in 
 writing the long-delayed letter to Pert, 
 telegraphing her in the mean time that he 
 had received her letter, and expressing his 
 thanks. 
 
 A few days brought to light these facts 
 concerning Giles Edward Campbell, de 
 ceased : He had drawn a large pension
 
 158 CHECKERS 
 
 undeservedly for years, and by pinching 
 and saving had amassed a fortune. Under 
 Cleveland in '84 his pension was annulled, 
 and about the same time he was nearly 
 bankrupted in a greedy and foolish specu 
 lation. Then fear of absolute want must 
 have seized him, for, converting the little 
 that was left into gold, he hoarded it in 
 miserly fashion ; loaning it at usurious 
 rates, and hiding it when not in use in 
 chests and crannies in his den. At the 
 time of his death, which was due more to 
 lack of nourishment than to anything else, 
 there was found upon his person and in 
 nooks and corners of his room, thirty 
 thousand dollars in gold and government 
 bonds, all of which in due time became 
 the property of Checkers.
 
 VIII 
 
 On a certain bright December day not 
 many weeks after the occurrence of the 
 last related events, the town of Clarks- 
 ville seemed to have assumed a most un 
 wonted bustle and confusion. People 
 were actually hurrying in and out of the 
 little white Methodist church, carrying 
 evergreen boughs, chrysanthemums and 
 sprays of holly and mistletoe. Wagons 
 were driving back and forth between town 
 and the Barlow place, and theBarlow house 
 was in the hands of a Little Rock caterer 
 ind his assistants. It was Checkers' wed 
 ding day. He and Pert were to be married 
 that night at six o'clock. Nothing they 
 could think of had been left undone to 
 make the occasion a happy one. 
 
 Though the old man fumed and fretted
 
 160 CHECKERS 
 
 at the expense, Checkers insisted upon 
 having things " right." " This is my first 
 and last wedding," he said, " and there 's 
 going to be nothing Sioux City about it." 
 So, though the old man groaned in spirit, 
 caterer, orchestra, flowers, etc., were or 
 dered, regardless of expense, from Little 
 Rock, and all the town took a surpassing 
 interest in the event. 
 
 Checkers' return to Clarksville had been 
 the triumphant return of Caesar to Rome. 
 As is usual in such cases, current report 
 had magnified his fortune twenty-fold. 
 Mr. Barlow was now all smiles and ac 
 quiescence ; but his first meeting with 
 Checkers was painfully strained. Check 
 ers treated him on the principle of " least 
 said, soonest mended;" but Mrs. Barlow 
 he kissed and called "mother." 
 
 He had found Pert looking a little pale, 
 and her bright eyes seemed somewhat 
 larger and brighter. But the happiness 
 which accompanied his return soon 
 brought the color back to her cheeks. 
 
 Of course Checkers urged an imme-
 
 CHECKERS 261 
 
 diate marriage, and of course there was 
 the usual demur ; but, in the end, a date 
 was fixed upon as near as would conve 
 niently allow for such preparations as Pert 
 and her mother felt it necessary to make. 
 And in the mean time Checkers and Pert 
 were ideally happy. They took Jong drives 
 and walks through the woods, and spent 
 long evenings in talking over their plans 
 for the future, with a never-flagging in 
 terest. 
 
 It was practically decided that Checkers 
 was to buy the Tyler place. This was a 
 fruit farm in perfect condition, with a neat 
 little house upon it, and not far from town. 
 It could be purchased for cash at a very 
 low figure, and as the trees were all bear 
 ing, it seemed to promise a large and sure 
 return for the money, even cutting in half, 
 for possibilities of frost or drought, a con 
 servative estimate of what the trees should 
 yield to the acre. 
 
 Mr. Barlow and Checkers figured upon 
 it carefully from every standpoint, and the 
 more they figured, the more it seemed a
 
 162 CHECKERS 
 
 providential opportunity. Checkers knew 
 nothing of any other business, and his 
 money was practically lying idle in the 
 bank. No other safe investment could 
 promise so large an income and at the 
 same time furnish him with employment 
 and a pleasant home. 
 
 And so at last the matter was decided. 
 The earnest money was paid, and the order 
 given for the execution of the necessary 
 papers. The house was vacated and 
 thoroughly renovated, and Pert found a 
 new delight in selecting paper, carpets and 
 furniture to her liking Checkers had 
 given her carte blanche. 
 
 As soon as the title to the property was 
 found to be clear, Checkers gave a certified 
 check to Mr. Tyler for twenty thousand 
 dollars, and a warranty deed was signed, 
 conveying the property, in fee, to Persis 
 Barlow. This was in accordance with 
 Checkers' desire, and was a great surprise 
 to Pert and her parents. " What 's mine ; s 
 yours, dear," he said with a smile, "and 
 what's yours is your own." And that
 
 CHECKERS 163 
 
 ended the matter unfortunately foi 
 Checkers. 
 
 There was just one question upon which 
 the two had a serious difference the case 
 of Arthur Kendall. 
 
 " Now, Edward," said Pert one evening 
 (when she called him * Edward ' he knew 
 that something important was coming), " I 
 want to talk to you about something that 
 has been worrying me dreadfully." 
 
 " What is it, sweetheart ? " 
 
 " And I want you to promise to do as I 
 ask you." 
 
 Checkers felt suspicious, and refused 
 to "go it blind." 
 
 " Well, it 's about the Kendalls. I want 
 you to make up with Arthur, somehow " 
 
 "Not on your " 
 
 " Yes, Edward ; you must. Remember 
 the Thanksgiving sermon about forgive 
 ness and loving your neighbors." 
 
 " Oh, it 's all well enough to love your 
 neighbor, but there 's no necessity for tak 
 ing down the fence. Arthur treated me 
 like a step-child, and "
 
 164 CHECKERS 
 
 " But, Checkers dear, we want Aunt Deb. 
 and Mr. Kendall at the wedding. They 
 won't come unless Arthur does, and Arthur 
 won't come unless you make up with him. 
 Consider, Checkers, you 'vs been unusually 
 blest, and you ought to be humble and 
 thankful, and do something to show it ; and 
 here 's your opportunity. Another thing " 
 this came hesitatingly " he 's the only 
 feLow about here who could make a decent 
 appearance as your best man." 
 
 Checkers went off into peals of laughter. 
 * Oh," he exclaimed, " I begin to tumble. 
 Forgive your neighbor, if you happen to 
 need him afterwards you can shake him 
 igain." 
 
 Pert joined in the laugh. " It is no such 
 thing," she responded. " If you half ap 
 preciated me, you would n't blame Arthur 
 for being angry at you for doing what you 
 did to him. He loved me a great deal 
 more than you do ; he never refused me a 
 favor in his life." 
 
 "That's just why he lost you. Push 
 Miller used to say "
 
 CHECKERS 165 
 
 " Never mind Push Miller ; Arthur is to 
 be at Sadie's to-morrow evening. You 
 and I are going there to call. You are to 
 shake hands with Arthur and tell him 
 you 're glad to see him, and be natural and 
 friendly. Afterwards you can ask him to 
 stand up with you." 
 
 " It seems to be settled," said Checkers; 
 and so it eventuated. Checkers greeted 
 Arthur with frank cordiality, and relieved 
 the tension by a few well-turned witticisms. 
 No apologies passed between them, and 
 reference to the past was tacitly barred. 
 Checkers' sunny nature was not one to 
 harbor a grudge, and if Arthur still felt re 
 bellious, he managed to hide it gracefully. 
 He readily consented to act the part of 
 best man for Checkers ; and Sadie, of course, 
 was to be Pert's maid of honor. Most of 
 the evening was spent in discussing other 
 available material in the way of brides 
 maids and groomsmen, and it was agreed 
 that with a few importations from Little 
 Rock, they would be able to present an at 
 tractive wedding party.
 
 166 CHECKERS 
 
 " Now, I have an idea," said Arthur, 
 " which I think is a good one. Checkers 
 ought to know those fellows before they 
 are asked to be his groomsmen ; we '11 go 
 up to Little Rock to-morrow, and I '11 in 
 vite them to meet him at an informal din 
 ner at one of the hotels." 
 
 "A very good scheme," assented Pert. 
 
 "And I '11 invite the party here to sup 
 per for the night before the wedding," put 
 in Sadie. 
 
 " It 's very kind of you both," said 
 Checkers, "and I appreciate it more than 
 I can tell you." 
 
 Early the next morning the two boys 
 went to Little Rock. Arthur invited four 
 of the most desirable of his acquaintances 
 to dinner that evening, and luckily they all 
 accepted. 
 
 Most of Checkers' day was taken up in 
 fulfilling missions for Pert and her mother. 
 He returned to the hotel late in the after 
 noon, and had barely time to don his new 
 dress-suit and join Arthur in the rotunda 
 before their guests arrived.
 
 CHECKERS 167 
 
 They were jolly good fellows, all of them. 
 Checkers was duly presented, and after a 
 preliminary cocktail the party adjourned 
 to the private dining-room, where a round 
 table was prettily laid for six, Checkers 
 felt apprehensive for Arthur, when he 
 noticed three different glasses at each 
 plate; but Arthur took early occasion to 
 state that he was "on the water-wagon," 
 and he hoped that the boys would "not 
 let it make any difference with them, or 
 with the gayety of the evening" and fl 
 did n't. After the first edge of their hun 
 ger was turned the jollity grew apace. 
 Checkers in his happiest vein related num 
 berless humorous anecdotes, among them 
 his experience of Remorse and the gold 
 piece. Each of them told his particular 
 pet joke, and all were boisterously ap 
 plauded. 
 
 "Now, waiter," exclaimed Arthur, sud 
 denly righting his down-turned champagne 
 glass, " fill them up again all around, and 
 give me some. Gentlemen, I want to pro 
 pose a double toast, and I '11 ask you to
 
 168 CHECKERS 
 
 drink it standing a bumper." All arose 
 expectantly. "Let us drink," he said, "to 
 the health and happiness of the sweetest, 
 fairest, most lovable girl God ever put 
 upon this earth it is needless to name 
 her. Let us also drink to the health and 
 prosperity of the thrice-fortunate man who 
 has won her love Mr. Campbell, your 
 health." He touched his wine to his lips ; 
 the others drained their glasses, and all 
 sat down. 
 
 There was an expectant silence. Check 
 ers felt the blood go surging to Us brain, 
 while his heart seemed to sink like lead 
 tvithin him. He felt powerless to rise, 
 although he knew that all were await 
 ing his response. The silence became 
 painful. "Speech," murmured some one. 
 " Speech," echoed the others. With a su 
 perhuman effort he managed to arise, and 
 grasping a full glass of water, drained it. 
 ''I '11 tell you, boys," he said huskily, 
 " here's where I 'd put up the talk of my 
 life, if I could ; but it 's like it was that 
 day they declared all bets off the occa-
 
 CHECKERS 169 
 
 sion 's too much for me. I feel it all 1 
 feel it in my heart," he continued ear 
 nestly. "I'm obliged to Arthur for his 
 motion, and to you all for making it 
 unanimous. I know that I 'm lucky, so 
 lucky that I can hardly believe my good 
 fortune myself. Half the time I think that 
 I must be asleep, and trying to 'cash a 
 hop-dream.' I 've been ready to get mar 
 ried for a couple of years I 've had every 
 thing but the stuff and the girl ; I was 
 ready to furnish the groom all right ; but 
 I 've always had a feeling that I could n't 
 have much respect for a girl that would 
 marry me if she was 'onto' me every 
 fellow feels the same, or ought to. And 
 so when I find I have drawn a prize girl, 
 who, as Arthur says, is 'the fairest and 
 sweetest God ever put on this earth,' 
 and it 's true, it jars me, boys ; it does, on 
 the dead. I feel like the only winner in a 
 poker-game, as though I ought to apolo 
 gize for it and I do, with about the same 
 regret. 
 
 " Well, I 've had my hard luck, and
 
 170 CHECKERS 
 
 'played out the string,' and now tha\ 
 things seem to be coming my way, I 'm 
 going to enjoy myself while it lasts. * Life 
 is short, and we 're a long time dead.' 
 That 's an old saying, but it 's a good one. 
 Boys, I hope you '11 all be as happy as I 
 am when it comes your turn, and may it 
 come soon. Here 's how." He lifted his 
 glass, which in the mean time the waiter 
 had filled, and, smiling around the circle, 
 tossed off his wine in unison with the others 
 and sat down. 
 
 There was the usual clapping and cheer 
 ing, after which Checkers asked their at 
 tention for a moment more. " I want to 
 sign two of you fellows for groomsmen," 
 he said. " I wish I needed four, I 'd like 
 to have you all ; but Pert said * two,' and 
 what Pert says goes. Now, how shall we 
 decide it?" 
 
 ''Why not match for it !" suggested one 
 of them. 
 
 " Good idea ! " exclaimed Checkers ; 
 "you four match nickels, odd man out. 
 until two are left come on, get busy."
 
 CHECKERS 171 
 
 On the first trial, two called " heads," 
 and two "tails." "No business," said 
 Checkers. On the second trial, three called 
 "heads" and one "tails." "Tough luck, 
 old man," said Checkers to the one ; " I 
 wanted you particularly." At the first essay 
 of the three remaining, all showed "heads" 
 up ; at the second two of them " switched" 
 to "tails," while the third kept "heads" 
 thus deciding the matter. 
 
 " Well, that settles that," said Checkers ; 
 "but groomsmen or not, we '11 all be there, 
 and I hope we'll all have a good time." 
 
 It was in " the wee, sma' hours " when 
 the party broke up, and Checkers and Ar 
 thur, after seeing their guests safely out, 
 sought their rooms, and quickly tumbled 
 into bed. Checkers, however, took occa 
 sion to thank Arthur warmly for his kind 
 ness, and to express a hope that an oppor 
 tunity might soon occur for him to requite 
 it. The next afternoon saw them back in 
 Clarksville. 
 
 The few intermediate days passed 
 quickly. Sadie's supper was a success,
 
 172 CHECKERS 
 
 as such things go ; the ceremony was re- 
 hearsed, and all was in readiness for the 
 great event. 
 
 The wedding morning dawned, as bright 
 and beautiful a winter's day as nature ever 
 vouchsafed a happy bridal pair. Check 
 ers was up with the lark. He felt the 
 weight of the nations upon his shoulders. 
 All day he was back and forth between 
 house and church, anxious that nothing 
 should be overlooked ; suggesting and 
 helping until late in the afternoon, when 
 Arthur laid violent hands upon him, and 
 insisted upon his taking a rest before mak 
 ing a toilet for the evening. 
 
 Promptly at six, to the Lohengrin 
 March on a cabinet organ, the bridal party 
 came slowly down the aisle, the two ushers 
 first, and following them, the two brides 
 maids. After these came Sadie, alone, 
 tvith a huge bouquet of roses, and lastly 
 leaning upon her father's arm, came Pert, 
 in a simple white gown, her veil wreathed 
 with orange blossoms and pinned with . 
 diamond star, one of Checkers' gifts.
 
 CHECKERS 173 
 
 Every neck was craned, and every eye 
 fastened upon her in breathless admira 
 tion, for she was beautiful. 
 
 From behind a screen at the side 
 Checkers and Arthur came forth, and met 
 them at the altar. The service was simple, 
 but solemn and impressive. The earnest 
 ness of Checkers' answers caused a quiet 
 smile to pass around, which culminated 
 in down-right laughter at the ardor with 
 which he kissed the bride when the time 
 came ; but he was wholly oblivious. 
 Marching out to the accustomed music, he 
 could scarcely maintain a decorous step, so 
 great was his elation. 
 
 Their short drive to the house, during 
 which he folded Pert in his arms, and 
 knew that she was his all his he felt to 
 be the moment of his supremest earthly 
 happiness. 
 
 The others followed quickly. The guests 
 arrived, and soon there were congratula 
 tions, feasting, music and merry-making 
 galore. 
 
 But all things good things have an
 
 I 7 4 CHECKERS 
 
 end, and perhaps it is just as well that they 
 have ; at least, in this case Checkers and 
 Pert, as they crossed the threshold of their 
 own little home, breathed a happy sigh at 
 the thought that they were alone at last 
 together.
 
 IX 
 
 The succeeding days brought one con 
 tinuous round of simple pleasures. Chiist 
 mas and the holidays followed hard upon 
 the wedding, and New Year's Day being 
 Sunday, Pert invited the members of the 
 wedding party to the house for from Fri 
 day to the Monday following. 
 
 At this season of the year there was 
 nothing of actual work to be done upon 
 the place, and Checkers was free to hunt 
 with the men or drive with the girls, as he 
 elected. 
 
 Whether it be for the reason that 
 " misery loves company," or for the much 
 more probable and kindly reason that 
 "our truest happiness lies in making 
 others happy," it is certain that most 
 young married couples have a very strong 
 "weakness" for match-making. And Pert 
 I7S
 
 176 CHECKERS 
 
 and Checkers were no exception to this 
 rule. 
 
 They decided that Arthur's truest good 
 demanded that he marry Sadie ; and poo*- 
 little Sadie showed but too plainly in what 
 direction her happiness lay. 
 
 But in spite of Pert's well-laid plans to 
 leave them in quiet corners together, in 
 spite of her many little tactful suggestions, 
 Arthur remained unresponsive. He was 
 attentive in a perfunctory way, but that 
 was all. And often Pert would blush to 
 find him gazing at her with a wistful, far 
 away look in his eyes, which told more 
 surely than words what was in his heart. 
 In fact, Sadie timidly suggested to Pert 
 one day that Arthur was always distrait 
 and silent after seeing her and Checkers 
 together ; and that instead of making him 
 desire a domestic little home of his own, 
 It seemed to embitter and sour him. 
 
 So, after the house party Checkers settled 
 down to serious life on a farm, and Pert 
 busied herself with housekeeping, learning 
 to cook from her neat old colored servant
 
 CHECKERS 177 
 
 "Handy," trying new dishes herself, and 
 doing the thousand and one little things 
 that go to make up "a woman's work," 
 which 't is said " is never done " " done," 
 of course, in the sense of " finished." 
 
 And so the winter glided quickly into 
 spring the spring of '93; a year that 
 many of us will long remember. 
 
 One evening Checkers unfolded to Pert 
 a long-cherished scheme, which delighted 
 her. This was nothing less than a plan to 
 take her to Chicago in May to see the 
 World's Fair. " We '11 call it our wedding 
 trip, little girl," he said caressingly, "and 
 we won't be gone but ten days or two 
 weeks." 
 
 But when Mr. Barlow heard of it, " he 
 made a monkey of himself," as Checkers 
 put it. He ranted and swore, and told 
 them both they would end in the poor- 
 house with their reckless extravagance. 
 But Checkers laughed him off good-na 
 turedly. He knew that the trip would be 
 expensive ; but he felt that he could afford 
 *t, and he had another and a deeper rea
 
 178 CHECKERS 
 
 son for taking Pert to Chicago. He was 
 greatly worried about her health, and he 
 desired to have her consult some eminent 
 physician regarding herself. 
 
 One day, when they were out for a walk, 
 she had run a playful race with him along 
 a level stretch of road, bending every en 
 ergy to beat him. He was running easily 
 behind her, puffing and grunting to make 
 her think that she was really worsting him, 
 when suddenly she stumbled, tottered, and, 
 putting her hand to her heart, sank limply 
 upon a bed of leaves at the side of the 
 road. In an instant Checkers was kneel 
 ing beside her. She had not fainted, but 
 was as pale as death, and she still held her 
 hand to her heart and gasped for breath. 
 Checkers loosened her gown about her 
 throat, then filling his hat with water at a 
 little stream near by, he bathed her brow 
 and wet her lips. Fully an hour passed 
 before she was able with his assistance to 
 walk to the house, and though about, next 
 day apparently as well as ever, she com 
 plained thereafter, at intervals, of dizziness,
 
 CHECKERS 179 
 
 chilly sensations and strange flutterings at 
 her heart. 
 
 The local doctor joked her about the 
 size of her waist, and told her that her 
 trouble was probably due to a combination 
 of lacing and indigestion. But to Check 
 ers he confided a fear that there might be 
 some affection of the heart, and earnestly 
 advised that he consult some worthy spe 
 cialist. 
 
 So, while Checkers told nothing of his 
 apprehensions to Pert, he would brook no 
 interference in his plans. The middle of 
 May they left the house in care of " Mandy," 
 and set out for the land of "The Great 
 White City." 
 
 What delight they found in roaming 
 about through those wonderful buildings 
 and marvelous displays ! Checkers, alert 
 and all-observing, Pert, enthusiastic and 
 wondering they spent whole days in a 
 single building or upon the ever-interest 
 ing Midway. 
 
 Checkers had found cozy quarters in a 
 small hotel not far from the grounds, but
 
 i8o CHECKERS 
 
 they lunched and dined where it suited 
 them best. Thus it chanced that one 
 night, when they were going to the theater, 
 they dined beforehand at Kinsley's, as 
 related by Checkers in the opening chap 
 ters. 
 
 Meanwhile, Checkers did not neglect 
 the more serious part of his mission. He 
 hunted up Murray, who was surprised and 
 glad to see him, and who evinced a gen 
 uine interest in the story of his marital 
 felicity. 
 
 Upon the matter of a doctor for Pert, 
 Murray happened to know "just the man," 
 a friend of his, to whom he gave Check 
 ers a letter of introduction. Checkers 
 called and explained the case to the doc 
 tor, and the next day Pert underwent a 
 thorough examination. Checkers awaited 
 the verdict anxiously. In effect it was 
 this : her heart action was weak, and at 
 times irregular, but there was no reason 
 to apprehend but what, with a careful diet, 
 regular exercise, plenty of sleep and fresh 
 air, she would live as long as the average
 
 CHECKERS 181 
 
 woman, and fully recover from the trouble 
 some symptoms which sudden over- 
 exertion had brought upon her. Violent 
 exercise and excitement, however, were 
 especially to be avoided ; and the use of 
 all stimulants, narcotics and anaesthetics 
 must be set down as dangerous in the ex 
 treme. 
 
 Checkers breathed a sigh of relief. He 
 had warned the doctor to make as light 
 of the case to Pert as his conscience would 
 permit, explaining that he himself would 
 tell her gradually, as fitting occasion of 
 fered, what had been said to him, and 
 would see that all instructions were care 
 fully carried out. Violent exercise she 
 was already warned against, and Checkers 
 felt that he could guard her against un 
 usual excitement. He carefully avoided 
 the harrowing plays at the theater, but 
 took her to operas and burlesques. But it 
 never occurred to him as necessary to warn 
 her specifically against stimulants and 
 drugs. 
 
 A few days before their departure for
 
 i?2 CHECKERS 
 
 home, they received a pleasant surprise in 
 the shape of a telegram from Arthur and 
 Sadie, announcing their marriage. 
 
 A letter from Sadie arrived the next 
 day, in which she said that she and Arthul 
 had hoped to join them in Chicago and 
 surprise them, but that conditions were 
 such at the store that Arthur's every avail 
 able moment was demanded, and he could 
 not possibly get away. But this was not 
 the half of it. The panic of '93, of which 
 premonitory notice had been given by 
 numerous bank J-ailures, was now a stern 
 reality. Collections were bad, business 
 was dead, and the firm of Kendall & Co., 
 which had unfortunately laid in a larger 
 stock of goods than usual that season, 
 found it all they could do to keep them 
 selves from going to the wall. 
 
 Checkers and Pert returned and soon 
 fell into their accustomed grooves. They 
 called upon Arthur and Sadie, and found 
 them reasonably happy under new con 
 ditions, although Arthur was evidently 
 tarrying a load of care and responsibility;
 
 CHECKERS 183 
 
 while Judge Martin sat up and cheerfully 
 predicted "con fusion and every evil work" 
 as a result of the demonetization of silver 
 and other kindred political " outrages." 
 
 One morning as Checkers was working 
 about the dooryard, he espied his father- 
 in-law coming up the road at a gait which 
 presaged important news. The old man 
 reached him, out of breath. Checkers 
 waited expectantly. 
 
 " Well, what do ye think has happened 
 now?" panted Mr. Barlow. "The First 
 National Bank of Little Rock has gone 
 up busted ; got yer money." 
 
 There was in his voice and manner 
 something of the triumph that mean spirits 
 feel at being the first to bring disastrous 
 news, as well as a show of personal injury 
 at the thought of Checkers allowing him 
 self to lose what he himself had even the 
 shadow of an interest in. 
 
 "My God!" exclaimed Checkers invol 
 untarily, growing pale at the news. Then 
 for a moment he stood in silence, nervously 
 biting his upper lip. He had had long
 
 184 CHECKERS 
 
 experience in controlling himself undei 
 trying circumstances. " If that 's so," he 
 finally answered in a quiet voice, " it 's 
 tough." 
 
 This exasperated Mr. Barlow. " Tough," 
 he repeated ; " you nincompoop, it 's actual 
 ruin ; the bank has been robbed by its 
 president looted ye '11 never see a cent 
 of it ag'in," and he started toward the house. 
 
 " Hold on ! " exclaimed Checkers, grab 
 bing him by the arm. "Not a word of 
 this to Pert ; it will only excite her, and 
 not do any good." 
 
 But the old man shook him off and con 
 tinued his way. Checkers picked up a 
 handy piece of scantling, and running up 
 the steps, turned and faced his father-in- 
 law. 
 
 " Now, see here, old man," he exclaimed, 
 " I 've taken as much of your slack as I 'm 
 going to see ? I tell you you can't 
 come into this house ; and I give you fair 
 warning, if you put your foot on one of 
 those steps I '11 smash you over the head ;" 
 and he swung his weapon threateningly to
 
 CHECKERS 185 
 
 fcis shoulder. " What I 've made or lost is 
 mine, not yours," he continued, "and it 
 don't ' cut any pie ' with you you '11 
 never get a cent of it. My wife is mine, 
 not yours, and I '11 take care of her, what 
 ever happens. But she is n't well, and 
 the doctor said any sudden excitement 
 might kill her. I '11 tell her gradually and 
 quietly, and go down to Little Rock this 
 noon and see if there 's anything can be 
 done. If I 'd let you tell her you 'd break 
 the news with an ax, and I tell you I ain't 
 going to have it ; so just 'jar loose,' and 
 ' pull your freight.' " 
 
 There was something in Checkers' de 
 termined look which cowed the old man, 
 but he would n't go without a last word. 
 " Well, ye '11 both o' ye end a couple of 
 paupers and die in the poorhouse if this 
 keeps up," he said, " with your fancy fur 
 niture and trips to Chicago. How much 
 did you have in that bank ? " 
 
 Just here Pert appeared in the doorway. 
 Checkers' threatening attitude and her 
 father's question, which she overheard, sur-
 
 186 CHECKERS 
 
 prised and startled her. "What is it?" 
 she cried, putting her arm around Check 
 ers and disarming him gently. 
 
 "Nothing much," he began. 
 
 "Nothing much," interrupted her father 
 " except that the Little Rock bank is busted, 
 and all yer money 's gone." 
 
 Checkers reached for his stick, but Pert 
 restrained him. "Never mind, dearest," 
 she said, "it may not be as bad as you 
 think things never are ; and we 've got 
 the house and the farm, and the bonds ; 
 and, whatever happens, we 've got each 
 other." . 
 
 " Yes ; you 've got each other," said the 
 old man cynically, " and that 's all ye will 
 have, if things goes this way. If yer goin 1 
 to Little Rock, boy," he said sharply, con 
 sulting his old silver watch, " ye must 
 hurry ; ye ain't more 'n time to make it 
 now." 
 
 Checkers saw that this was so, and going 
 to his room, made a hasty toilet. " Good 
 bye, Pert, darling," he said, as he emerged, 
 catching her up and embracing her lo\r-
 
 CHECKERS 18'; 
 
 Jngly. " I '11 be back soon ; don't mind 
 what he says ;" and with a warning glance 
 at Mr. Barlow, he hurried off down the 
 road toward the station. 
 
 As he stood upon the platform awaiting 
 the train he felt a sudden presentiment of 
 evil, and with a superstition born of his 
 early experience in gambling, he half de 
 cided to turn back. " I 've got a feeling I 
 ought n't to go," he muttered ; "but I guess 
 it 's because I 'm afraid the old man will 
 worry Pert. Still, she seemed to take it 
 calm enough, and I ought to get there and 
 look after my stuff." He boarded the 
 train and went steaming off, but he could 
 not get rid of his bugaboo. 
 
 The situation with Checkers at this time 
 was about as follows : Of the legacy left 
 him, $20,000 had gone for the farm, or 
 fruit ranch, which he had given Pert. A 
 thousand more had been spent in refitting 
 and furnishing the house. Most of the 
 wedding expenses, which Checkers had as 
 sumed, Pert's presents, an elaborate ward 
 robe for himself, the household expenses
 
 i88 CHECKERS 
 
 and the trip to Chicago, had consumed 
 about another thousand. The balance, ex 
 cept ten government bonds and a few hun 
 dred dollars in the bank at Clarksville, was 
 on deposit at interest in this bank which 
 failed $4,800, for which he held a certifi 
 cate of deposit. It was very unfortunate, 
 and the sense of his loss kept growing 
 upon him as time went on. 
 
 Meanwhile Mr. Barlow had taken occa 
 sion to lecture Pert on her sinful ex 
 travagance. With pencil and paper he 
 sat before her, and showed her how within 
 six short months she and Checkers had 
 spent one-tenth of their fortune, and how 
 with this loss at the bank they were poorer 
 by a third of all they had ever possessed. 
 
 " Figures won't lie, but liars will figure." 
 He knew, but he did not tell her, that of 
 what was actual expense there would be 
 iittle cause for its repetition, and that 
 most of the money expended was visible 
 in assets of one sort or another. He only 
 Bade her fee 1 perfectly miserable, and
 
 CHECKERS 189 
 
 wrought her up beyond the point of think 
 ing or answering intelligently. 
 
 When he had gone she tried for a while 
 to busy herself about the house, but she 
 felt a growing lonesomeness a desire for 
 sympathy and companionship and she 
 decided to put on her hat and go down to 
 her cousin Sadie's. 
 
 It was now high noon, and a stifling 
 hot day ; but she braved the heat of the 
 blistering sun, and trudged along the dusty 
 way to her destination. When she reached 
 the Martins' house she was dizzy and faint 
 from the heat and the blinding glare. 
 
 Judge Martin and Arthur came home to 
 dinner, and both expressed the greatest 
 sympathy for her and Checkers in their 
 sudden misfortune. At the table Pert 
 tried to eat for appearance's sake, but her 
 efforts ended in mere pretense. Sadie 
 noticed it, and insisted that after dinner 
 she go to a room on the cool side of the 
 house and " take a nap." To this Pert 
 pbjected. " I can never sleep during the
 
 190 CHECKERS 
 
 day," she said ; " the longer I lie, the 
 wider awake I get. I am really all right," 
 she added, smiling bravely, "only my head 
 aches a very little." 
 
 " We'll soon fix that," exclaimed Arthur. 
 " I 've been troubled with headache and 
 sleeplessness lately, myself, and I Ve struck 
 a remedy that beats anything you ever 
 saw ; knocks a headache, and makes you 
 sleep like an infant. It's perfectly harm 
 less, too guaranteed. Excuse me a 
 minute ; I'll get the box." 
 
 Pert felt too miserably weak and apa 
 thetic to further object to Sadie's sugges 
 tion or Arthur's remedy; so, under her 
 cousin's ministering guidance, she retired 
 to an upper room and prepared herself 
 with what comfort she could to rest, while 
 Sadie opened the windows and drew the 
 shades. 
 
 " Now, Pert," said Sadie, " take one of 
 these powders with a little water, and I 
 think you '11 feel better right away. I '11 
 leave the box here on the table, near the 
 bed, and it the first one, does n 't cure
 
 CHECKERS 191 
 
 your headache and put you to sleep, take 
 another. Now is there anything more 
 ^ou want, dear? If there is, just call ; 
 I '11 leave the door the least bit open." A 
 sudden impulse prompted her, as she was 
 going out, to return and kiss Pert fondly, 
 and though not an uncommon thing be 
 tween them, still both wondered for a 
 moment afterward at the unusual tender 
 ness and feeling that each had uncon 
 sciously put into the embrace. 
 
 Left alone, Pert tried to compose her 
 mind and go to sleep ; but in spite of 
 herself her brain dwelt anxiously upon 
 Checkers in Little Rock, and upon what 
 her father had said to her. Half an hour 
 passed and still her fancy teemed, as she 
 restlessly tossed from side to side. She 
 felt herself growing nervous, and her ear 
 upon the pillow told her that her heart 
 was beating rapidly. 
 
 "At least my head feels a great deal 
 better," she murmured, raising herself 
 upon her elbow ; " now if I could only 
 get to sleep I believe I should wake up
 
 192 CHECKERS 
 
 quite myself again. Perhaps anothei 
 powder will do it ; I 'm afraid of them, 
 though. Still, Arthur says they 're per 
 fectly harmless I '11 take just one more. 
 Checkers would n 't like it ; he told me 
 never to take any medicine." She lifted 
 her box from the table. " Dear old Check 
 ers," she said to herself, with a sigh, pre 
 paring the powder ; " how he loves me ! 
 His first thought was to keep the news 
 from me for fear I would worry." She 
 took the draught and sank back upon the 
 pillow "to be loved as he loves me 
 Oh, Checkers! mother!!" 
 
 The afternoon wore on towards dusk. 
 Sadie went about her household duties, 
 humming softly. Once she thought she 
 heard Pert call, but as the sound was not 
 repeated, she fancied herself mistaken, and 
 sat down to read, happy in the thought 
 that Pert must have fallen asleep. It 
 seemed to be blowing up cooler; the wind 
 had shifted, and a few dark clouds were 
 rolling up from the west, with distan* 
 rumbling.
 
 CHECKERS 193 
 
 About five o'clock Mr. and Mrs. Bar- 
 Sow drove up in a buggy. Mrs. Barlow 
 got out, and Mr. Barlow drove on to 
 ward the store. Sadie saw them and 
 opened the door. 
 
 "Is Pert here, Sadie?" was the ques 
 tion which greeted her. "We 've been 
 up to her house, and 'Mandy' said she 
 had come down here." 
 
 "Yes; she 's here, Auntie Barlow." 
 
 "The poor little thing! My husband 
 only told me the news this afternoon; 
 he 's been down street all morning, and 
 I wanted to see her and comfort her." 
 
 "She wasn't feeling well," explained 
 Sadie, "and after dinner I sent her up 
 stairs to sleep. You '11 find her in the 
 bedroom over the parlor. She must be 
 awake by this time." 
 
 "Very well; I '11 go up." Mrs. Barlow 
 ascended the stairs. 
 
 Sadie went to the window and looked 
 out upon the gathering storm, now vivid 
 ly foretold by constant flashes of jagged 
 lightning. Suddenly she started, and
 
 194 CHECKERS 
 
 stood transfixed, as though turned to ice 
 with a chilling horror. There had come 
 to her ears from above an awful cry of 
 bitter anguish, quickly followed by a jar 
 ring, muffled sound, as of a falling body. 
 
 "Auntie Barlow!" she gasped, regain- 
 ing her faculties with a superhuman ef 
 fort, and rushing blindly toward the 
 stairs. Staggering up with the aid of the 
 banister, she reached the landing and 
 entered the room beybnd. There, pros 
 trate upon the floor, lay Mrs. Barlow in 
 a deathlike swoon. Upon the bed lay 
 the lifeless body of poor little Pert her 
 pure, white soul had flown. 
 
 There are some who faint at the 
 thought of a thing, but are brave when 
 they meet it face to face. Such a one 
 was Sadie. She realized the situation at 
 a glance; and though the awfulness of it 
 benumbed her, she did, dry-eyed and me 
 chanically, what she knew must be done. 
 Mrs. Barlow she could not lift, but, she 
 sprinkled her face with water, and put a 
 pillow under her head. Then with the 
 ghost of a hope that Pert was but in a
 
 CHECKERS 195 
 
 stupor, she rushed down the stairs, and 
 out into the street, toward the doctor's, 
 a few doors away. She met him just 
 coming out of his gate. "Come, quick," 
 she said; and as they hurried back she 
 told him in a few word', what had hap 
 pened. 
 
 Mrs. Barlow still lay in a state of semi- 
 consciousness, moaning pitifully at inter 
 vals. With all her soul in her eyes, 
 Sadie watched the doctor while he felt 
 Pert's wrist and held a glass before her 
 lips for an indication of breathing. But 
 his face gave never a sign of hope, and 
 his eyes, as he looked up, told her all. 
 "She is dead," he said softly. Sadie 
 burst into a fit of uncontrollable weep 
 ing. The doctor lifted Mrs. Barlow 
 carefully and deposited her upon a bed 
 in another room. 
 
 The sound of voices was heard outside 7 
 those of Arthur and Judge Martin 
 talking [to Mr. Barlow, who had just 
 driven up and met them as they were 
 coming in. Sadie went slowly down the 
 stairs and opened the door. The sight
 
 196 CHECKERS 
 
 of her tear-stained face startled them all 
 "What is it?" they exclaimed simultane 
 ously. 
 
 "Oh, Pert" she began; but burst 
 again into weeping and was unable to 
 continue. 
 
 The doctor appeared just behind her, 
 and told the three men what had hap 
 pened. Mr. Barlow, his face set hard> 
 and a ghastly white under his yellow 
 skin, tottered up the stairs, the doctor 
 following. Judge Martin penned a tele 
 gram to Checkers, and dispatched Ar 
 thur with it at once. 
 
 "Pert is very sick. Come home," it 
 read, and it was signed as though from 
 Mr. Barlow. 
 
 Fortunately, Checkers, in Little Rock, 
 had but a few moments to wait for the 
 outgoing train after receiving the mes 
 sage ; but every moment of the journey 
 was torture; every delay at way-stations, 
 agony. When, after what seemed to him 
 like years, they at last pulled into Clarks- 
 ville, he jumped from the moving train 
 to the platform.
 
 CHECKERS 197 
 
 Judge Martin had set for himself the 
 unwelcome task of meeting him and 
 breaking the sad news. But his resolu 
 tion all but failed him when Checkers, 
 grasping both his hands, asked breath 
 lessly, "How is she, sir?" his face up* 
 turned with a pleading look, as though 
 upon the answer depended his very life 
 and salvation. 
 
 "She is very low, my poor boy," an 
 swered the Judge, the tears coming into 
 his eyes; "but you must be brave " 
 
 "My God, my God!" breathed Check 
 ers, raising his hand to his eyes in a 
 dazed way, as though to ward off the 
 blow of the Judge's words, the import 
 of which was all too plain. The Judge 
 laid his hand upon Checkers' shoulder 
 and drew him toward him, protectingly. 
 "Come," he said, gently; "she is at my 
 house." 
 
 Checkers started as though from a 
 dream. "At your house," he echoed, 
 "and I have been standing here wasting 
 precious time." 
 
 With a sudden bound he jumped to the
 
 198 CHECKERS 
 
 ground and flew up the street through 
 the darkness, toward the Judge's house, 
 not many yards away. Arthur heard the 
 sound of his footsteps, and silently 
 opened the door. "Upstairs, Checkers," 
 he whispered. Checkers hurried fran 
 tically up the stairs, but paused at the 
 threshold, ere he entered the room. 
 There before him, by the light of one 
 dim, flickering candle, sat Sadie, silently 
 weeping. There upon the bed, cold and 
 silent in death, lay the mortal remains 
 of his sweet girl-wife. 
 
 With an agonized cry he fell to his 
 knees at the bedside, and taking her 
 cold little hand, he rubbed it and kissed 
 it caressingly. "Pert, my darling," he 
 moaned, "come back to me! Don't 
 leave me, Pert, my precious one tell 
 me you won't dear tell me you hear 
 me! " But only the sound of Sadie's 
 convulsive sobbing answered him as she 
 stumbled from the room. 
 
 The long threatened storm now sud 
 denly broke in all its fury. The rain 
 blew fiercely in at a window near him,
 
 CHECKERS 199 
 
 and drenched him through and through 
 with the flying spray; but he heeded it 
 not. Kneeling at the bedside, his face 
 above the little hand clasped in both of 
 his, he uttered mingled incoherent pray 
 ers to Pert to come back, and to God to 
 take him too. 
 
 Judge Martin noiselessly entered the 
 room and closed the window. Gently he 
 put a hand under each of Checkers' arms, 
 and raised him up. "Come, my boy," 
 he said kindly, but firmly, "you must 
 not stay here in this condition. Try to 
 bear up. It 's an awful blow that has 
 come upon us; but God, in his inscrut 
 able wisdom, has thought it best to take 
 her" 
 
 Again, with a sudden burst of anguish, 
 as though his very heart had broken 
 within him, Checkers threw himself to 
 his knees by the bedside, and burying 
 his face between his outstretched arms, 
 poured out in bitter, choking sobs, his 
 utter hopeless, despairing misery. So 
 terrible a strain, however, brought about, 
 in the end, its own results. Beneficent;
 
 200 CHECKERS 
 
 nature intervened, and toward the morn- 
 ing hours Judge Martin and Arthur 
 gently lifted the grief-stricken boy from 
 the kneeling position in which he had 
 fallen asleep, and put him comfortably 
 upon a bed in another room, without his 
 awakening. 
 
 Details of this sort are harrowing at 
 best, but nothing imaginable could have 
 been sadder than was the funeral two 
 days later. The rain, which had never 
 intermitted, fell with dismal hopeless 
 ness. Mrs. Barlow had not been able to 
 leave her bed since the shock, and, 
 never strong, her life was now almost 
 despaired of. 
 
 Checkers stood uncovered in the down- 
 pouring rain, beside the open grave, 
 his clear-cut face as hard and white as 
 marble. In spite of the draggling wet 
 and clinging mud, the country people 
 were out in force ; but their gapes, their 
 nudges and whispers, were as little to 
 him as the falling rain. He was dead 
 to everything but the sense of hfs utter, 
 hopeless desolation.
 
 CHECKERS 201 
 
 What made it all even sadder, if pos 
 sible, was that a dreadful breach had 
 come between him and Sadie and Arthur. 
 
 On the morning following that first 
 awful night, he had suddenly confronted 
 them with the box of powders crushed in 
 his hand, and in his eyes a tragic, ques 
 tioning look which spoke, while he stood 
 sternly silent. 
 
 "Oh, Checkers," cried Sadie, falling 
 to her knees and holding out her hands 
 entreatingly, "forgive us we did n't 
 know we didn't know! Forgive us; 
 please forgive us!" 
 
 But his face only grew the harder. 
 "Forgive you," he said, as he raised his 
 clenched hand to heaven, invokingly; 
 "may God eternally " but he faltered, 
 and his voice grew suddenly soft, "for 
 give you," he added, dropping his arm 
 and lowering his voice contritely. "But 
 I," he began again, in measured pas 
 sionless words "I can never forgive 
 you. I never want to see you either 
 of you again." And from that hour he 
 never spoke to them, nor looked at
 
 202 CHECKERS 
 
 them, any more than as though they 
 were cot. 
 
 The funeral was over. He had come 
 home. The rain had ceased. He sat 
 alone on his doorstep. The minister 
 and some well-meaning but mistaken 
 friends, who had tried to comfort him, 
 were gone. Over the western hills the 
 lowering sun broke through the heavy, 
 moving clouds, painting some a lurid 
 tinge, and lining the heavier ones with 
 silver. Checkers noted it absently. 
 "Another lie nailed," he muttered, as 
 the trite old proverb occurred to him. 
 "My cloud is blacker and heavier than 
 any of those and silver lining? 
 Humph! Well, silver 's demonetized!" 
 Over his face there flitted the ghost of 
 a smile. A smile, not at the sorry jest^ 
 but at the thought that at this hour 
 there should have come to him so whim 
 sical a fancy. 
 
 A number of days went by. He sim 
 ply drifted, doing a few needful duties 
 mechanically; sometimes eating the food 
 which Mandy prepared for him, but of-
 
 CHECKERS 203 
 
 tener going without altogether; sitting, 
 brooding, hours at a time, gazing va 
 cantly into space. 
 
 Mrs. Barlow he learned one day 
 from the doctor, who stopped a moment 
 in passing had taken a slight turn for 
 the better. Mr. Barlow, the following 
 morning appeared, as Checkers stood 
 meditatively surveying a fine old apple 
 tree, from which a large limb, hanging 
 heavy with fruit, had been blown during 
 the night. 
 
 "Thar," snorted the old man as he 
 came up; "thar ye go, with yer dog- 
 durned laziness. If you 'd o' propped 
 that limb weeks ago, as you 'd ought t* 
 done, you 'd o' saved me a couple o* 
 barrels o' apples Shannons, too. It 's 
 high time I was takin* a holt here my 
 self. Git the saw and the grafting-wax." 
 Checkers obeyed, and stood apathetically 
 watching Mr. Barlow minister to the 
 tree's necessity. 
 
 "Now," said the old man, when at 
 last he had finished, "come and set in 
 the shade; I want to have a talk with
 
 204 CHECKERS 
 
 ye;" and he led the way around to the 
 doorstep. Both sat down. The old man 
 drew a plug of "Horseshoe" from his 
 pocket, and cut off a liberal piece, which 
 he chewed into a comfortable consistency 
 before beginning. 
 
 "Now, boy," he said, "luck 's ben 
 a-comin* mighty hard for you and me 
 these last few weeks, and I ain 't a-sayir/ 
 it 's over yit for both o' us." Checkers 
 made no response. 
 
 The old man chewed ruminatSngly, and 
 spat at a "devil's-horse" which sat 
 alertly atop of a shrub near by. "Y* 
 see," he continued, "times is gittin* 
 wuss and wuss; banks failin' every whar, 
 and nawthin' wuth a cent on th' shillin', 
 'cept Gov'ment bonds. Corn aint wuth 
 nawthin; farmers is feedin' their wheat 
 to th' hogs, and cotton ye could n't give 
 away." Again there was a silence, and 
 again the "devil's-horse" narrowly es 
 caped a deluge. 
 
 "By the way, whar *ve ye got them 
 Gov'ment bonds o' yourn?" Checkers 
 came out of his reverie at the question.
 
 CHECKERS 205 
 
 "Mr. Bradley 's got them put away in 
 the safe for me at the store," he an 
 swered. 
 
 "Mm-hmm!" mused the old man;*'I 
 was kinder wonderin' whether ye ever 
 give any on 'ern away, like ye done th* 
 place here;" and he glanced at Checkers 
 cunningly out of the corner of his eye. 
 
 "I never gave them away," said 
 Checkers, drearily, "because there was 
 no occasion for it. What we had we 
 owned together and shared in common, 
 and it makes little difference whether it 
 was in my name or or any one else's." 
 
 "Yes; but it does. It makes a differ 
 ence in the eye o' the law." 
 
 "Well, the law can leave it in its eye, 
 or get it out, if it worries it any." 
 
 The old man grinned sardonically on 
 the side of his face away from Checkers. 
 He had never liked our little friend from 
 the time when Checkers had c^csed him 
 to fall over a rocking-chair ir* the parlor 
 the night that he and Pert Became en 
 gaged; and Checkers had festered this 
 dislike by snubbing and belittling him
 
 206 CHECKERS 
 
 whenever an opportunity occurred. His 
 entire make-up of sneaking, petty selfish 
 ness and greed was abhorrent to one of 
 Checkers' open, generous nature, and it 
 was only for Pert's sake that he had ever 
 consented to have the old man about or 
 notice him at all. 
 
 "Wai," said Mr. Barlow, musingly, 
 "that 's one thing I kin see stickin' out; 
 you ain't no kind o' hand to run a place 
 like this ye 're too tarnal shif'less. 
 Somebody 's got to look after things. 
 Now, my place down below 's all right 
 for raisin' cotton and sich, but it 's on- 
 healthy, mighty. The doctor says it 's 
 livin' down thar gives my wife chills and 
 ager. So, take it all 'round, and bein' 
 's ye 're fixed so nice up here, but lone- 
 some-like by yerself, I guess me an' 
 wife*ll close up the ole house an' move 
 up here to live." 
 
 "Guess again." 
 
 "No; I 'low I guessed it right fust 
 time," grinned the old man. "What's 
 the good in runnin' two houses when we 
 kin all live together in one jist ez well?
 
 CHECKERS 107 
 
 Wife kin have the parlor bedroom all t' 
 herself, and you kin have the front or 
 back room upstairs, either you like I 
 ain't pertic'lar on that pint " 
 
 "Now, see here," interrupted Check 
 ers, jumping up with an impatient ges 
 ture, "I 've listened to enough of this 
 bloody nonsense. I '11 live here by my 
 self and run this place to suit myself. 
 Now, when you go out, close the gate 
 I 'm tired of talking, and I want to be 
 left alone." 
 
 But the old man never budged ; and 
 again the "devil's-horse" braved an un 
 righteous fate with a stoicism worthy of 
 a better cause. 
 
 "Young feller," said Mr. Barlow, 
 after several moments' cogitation, "you 
 ain't never treated me with the perlite- 
 ness and respect as is due from a boy 
 yer age t' his elders and betters. But I 
 never harbored no grudge, 'cause I 
 knowed it was only a matter o' time 
 when chickens like them 'ud come home 
 to roost." 
 
 Checkers had intended to move off and
 
 208 CHECKERS 
 
 leave him sitting there alone; but he 
 stopped long enough to light a cigarette 
 (a thing which the old man abominated) 
 and listen to this last remark. 
 
 l Now it's roostin" time" continued 
 Mr. Barlow with emphasis, "and onless 
 ye come down off' n th' high horse ye 're 
 ridin', ye 're goin' ter hear suthin' drap 
 that '11 kinder put a crimp in that pride 
 o* yourn. " 
 
 This was a new tone for him to take, 
 and Checkers turned and looked at him 
 surprisedly. 
 
 "The fact is," he went on, "you ain't 
 got no head for bizness, and it 's provi 
 dential things hez come round so 's I 
 kin run this place and make what they is 
 to be made out'n it." He looked up as 
 though he expected to be interrogated. 
 
 "What 's your lay?" asked Checkers. 
 
 "Wai, the situation, ez near ez I kin 
 figger it out, accordin' to law, is this: 1 
 owns this ranch. ' ' 
 
 Checkers stood silent for a moment, 
 and then laughed. "You owns it?" he 
 mimicked; "nit"
 
 CHECKERS 209 
 
 "This real estate," began Mr. Barlow 
 dryly, as though repeating a well-conned 
 lesson, "with the house upon it, was 
 owned in fee by Persis Barlow Campbell 
 at. the time o' her death. Said Persis 
 Campbell died intestate and without is 
 sue, and accordin' to th' laws o' the 
 State of Arkansas all real and personal 
 property standin' in her name, or be- 
 longin' to her at th' time o' her death, 
 reverts to her next o' kin, who 's her 
 father. Now, what d 'ye say?" 
 
 "It's a lie," exclaimed Checkers, 
 trembling with anger at the thought of 
 so outrageous a thing. 
 
 "It 's th' gospel truth," said Mr. Bar 
 low, trying in vain to hide the look of 
 satisfaction which sat upon his face. 
 His words and the tone of his voice car 
 ried conviction. This was the final 
 blow; the crowning evil. Checkers stag 
 gered under it. The house and the trees 
 floated before his eyes like a stifling 
 vapor, but with a mighty effort he gath 
 ered himself together. 
 
 "If this is so," he began, his voice
 
 *,o CHECKERS 
 
 hoarse with passion, "it 's the most un 
 godly outrage that ever I 'ra going 
 down to ask Judge Martin if that 's the 
 law. But let me tell you," he added, 
 "law or no law, you shall never live in 
 this house while I 'm alive and able to 
 shoot a gun. Do you understand?" 
 
 The old man was silent. 
 
 "Do you understand?" repeated 
 Checkers, more vehemently. 
 
 "Pp-tttt," said the old man, and this 
 time the "devil's-horse" fell a victim to 
 its too great temerity.
 
 X 
 
 Sadly enough, it was all too true. 
 Judge Martin, while forced to admit the 
 fact, cursed Mr. Barlow in no measured 
 terms. "The damned old pachyderm!" 
 he exclaimed; "suppose it is the letter 
 of the law, by every sense of equity, 
 justice, and decency, the place belongs to 
 you, and if he tries to take it, damme, I '11 
 head a movement to tar and feather him. " 
 
 Checkers went back in utter dejection. 
 
 Mandy had a tempting dinner ready, 
 but he barely touched it. All the after 
 noon he sat under the shade of the trees, 
 thinking deeply. Mr. Earlow he knew 
 too well to believe that he could be dis 
 suaded from any purpose once formed, 
 if he had the law on his side, and there 
 was any question of money in it. He 
 was already miserable ; but to be forced 
 to live with the old man, even with thf 
 
 311
 
 212 CHECKERS 
 
 mitigating circumstances of his wife to 
 have him around all the time would be 
 wholly unbearable. 
 
 Then, too, stronger than this was the 
 feeling that such an invasion of the 
 house would be a profanation. Every 
 ornament, every chair, was standing just 
 as Pert had left it. No vandal hand 
 should move or break them, devoting 
 them to secular use not if he had 
 power to help it; and he believed he had. 
 
 He jumped up and hurried into the 
 house. For two hours he worked in eager 
 haste, opening and closing drawers, and 
 sorting articles into different piles on 
 the floor. 
 
 As night approached he entered the 
 Kendall store, and related the whole 
 affair in a quiet tone to Mr. Bradley. 
 That good old soul could hardly contain 
 himself for righteous indignation; but 
 Checkers cut him short by telling him he 
 was in a hurry. 
 
 "There 's two things I want to ask of 
 you, Mr. Bradley," said Checkers. *'I 
 want that package of bonds you have for
 
 CHECKERS 213 
 
 me in the safe, and I want you to cash a 
 check for two hundred dollars it 's just 
 the balance I have in the bank here. 
 I 'm going away to-night for a while, 
 at least." 
 
 Mr. Bradley gave him the package, 
 and luckily had enough money on hand 
 to cash his check. "Thank you," said 
 Checkers, "for this and for all your other 
 kindness to me. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye, my son, and God bless 
 you!" and Mr. Bradley wrung Checkers' 
 hand, while the tears welled up in his 
 kind old eyes and trickled down his 
 wrinkled cheeks. 
 
 Outside, Checkers met Tobe, lumber 
 ing along with a pair of mules and a 
 lumber wagon. 
 
 "Tobe, you 're the very man I want!" 
 he exclaimed; "come, turn round, and 
 drive up to my place." Tobe proceeded 
 to obey without demur or questioning. 
 
 Since last we saw him, Tobe had tried 
 his luck with a fifth "woman," and lived 
 in a two-room shanty on a clearing in the 
 mountains.
 
 214 CHECKERS 
 
 Checkers walked ahead until they 
 reached the house. *' Drive up as near 
 to the door as you can, Tobe," he said. 
 "I '11 be out in a minute." 
 
 Mandy was preparing his supper in the 
 kitchen. "Mandy," said Checkers, 
 *'I *m afraid I 've got bad news for you. 
 I *m going away to-night, and I may not 
 come back again ; so, Mandy, I 'm 
 afraid I won't need you any more.' * 
 
 Mandy's honest black face took on a 
 comically serious look. Her lip hung 
 pendulously, as she slowly shook her 
 gaudily turbaned head. "You aint goin* 
 sho' 'nough, is you, Marse Checkahs?" she 
 asked, for lack of something better to say. 
 
 *'Yes, Mandy I 'm going to-night," 
 he said, "and before I go I want to lock 
 up this house. So after you *ve washed 
 the dishes and put things to rights, 
 you 'd better arrange to go home. And, 
 Mandy, there 's a number of things here 
 I '11 never need, that would make your 
 cabin very* comfortable. Tobe is here 
 with his wagon, and I '11 get hin? to give 
 you a lift with them to-night."
 
 CHECKERS 215 
 
 "Thank you, Marse Checkahs, thank 
 you, sah," was all the poor old soul 
 could say. 
 
 Two hours later Tobe drove out of the 
 gate with a wagonful of furniture, car 
 pets, bedding, and kitchen utensils, en 
 route for Mandy's cabin. Mandy sat be 
 side him, rocking back and forth, and 
 crooning to herself in a curious mixture 
 of boundless grief and delirious joy. 
 
 Tobe returned and piled another 
 wagon-load even higher. This was des 
 tined for the cabin in the mountains. 
 Tobe's delight was indescribable, and 
 his efforts to express his thanks were 
 quite as futile as had been those of Man 
 dy. Checkers [had allowed the two to 
 take every useful article they chose from 
 all save the parlor and Pert's room. 
 Those rooms remained inviolate. 
 
 * 4 I will write to Judge Martin to-night, 
 Tobe," said Checkers, "telling him what 
 I have done for you and Mandy, in case 
 any one should question how you came 
 by all this plunder. This furniture be 
 longs to me," he muttered to himself,
 
 2i6 CHECKERS 
 
 "whatever the law may do with the 
 house and ground, for I bought it an(f 
 paid for it myse.lf, and never gave it t 
 anybody." 
 
 "Now, Tobe, one thing more, here 's 
 my trunk ; put it on your wagon and drop 
 it off at the station on your way through 
 town. That 'sit. Good-bye, old fellow; 
 my regards to the madam I hope she '11 
 be pleased with my wedding-gift." 
 
 Tobe buried Checker's hand in his 
 great horny palm. "Mr. Checkers," he 
 said, and his voice grew husky, "ye 're 
 God's own kind; may He have ye in His 
 keepin' !" and he climbed upon his 
 wagon, and drove slowly out into the 
 night. 
 
 Checkers wa!> alone. He went slowly 
 into the house. A clock upon the man 
 tel was chiming ten. There was still 
 two hours before train time. He sat 
 down and wrote a long letter to Judge 
 Martin, sealed and stamped it, and put 
 it in his pocket. His hat and light over 
 coat lay upon a chair beside him. He 
 arose and put them on. His satchel,
 
 CHECKERS 211 
 
 caae, and umbrella he then carefully laid 
 on the stoop outside, and stood a while 
 listening in the darkness. Apparently 
 satisfied, he returned, and, taking one 
 last, lingering look around, put out the 
 lights. 
 
 For perhaps ten minutes he was busy at 
 something under the stairway. He then 
 silently emerged and locked the door 
 
 The people of Clarksville and that 
 vicinity are given to retiring early. Had 
 they been abroad, or even awake, as late 
 as eleven o'clock that night, they might 
 have seen a startling spectacle in the 
 distance that of a mass of ruthless, 
 hungry flames devouring a little white 
 dwelling; leaping up in their fierce 
 ecstacy to the heavens, and painting the 
 sky all about a lurid, smoky crimson. 
 
 Checkers sat perched upon the fence 
 jome distance off. One heel was caught 
 upon the first rail below him. His elbow 
 rested upon his knee, and his upturned 
 palm supported his chin. 
 
 The poor little house writhed helpless 
 in the withering grasp of the remorseless
 
 218 CHECKERS 
 
 flames. **This, then, was the final end. 
 ing," he thought "ashes to ashes," 
 literally. This was the awakening from 
 his short dream of bliss. Here he had 
 lived six happy months; then ill-fortune 
 singled him out for a plaything. He 
 laughed a bitter, mirthless laugh. 
 
 The night was perfectly still and the 
 myriad sparks from the flames rose 
 straight to heaven. "There 's one good 
 thing about it all," he mused, "and that 
 is that I kept neglecting to insure the 
 house and furniture when I went "to Lit 
 tle Rock. That being the case, it 's a 
 wonder I did n't burn out before this. I 
 guess it was coming. I probably got a 
 lead of a couple of days on my luck, and 
 beat it out a length or two." 
 
 He looked at his watch. He had still 
 half an hour before train time. The fire 
 was burning lower. Suddenly the whole 
 standing structure fell in with a muffled 
 crash. Again the flames rose high and 
 fierce; but they rapidly died down, and 
 soon there remained of the fair white cot- 
 but a blackened, smouldering ruin.
 
 CHECKERS 219 
 
 Checkers climbed down and went over 
 near by. Nothing of value was left. The 
 very foundations were cracked and fallen 
 in; but the sounds of voices on the road 
 now warned him that he must be going. 
 
 He turned for an instant in the direc 
 tion of the Barlow house, and bowed low. 
 "Now, you thieving old highbinder," 
 he said, "take the change;" and, diving 
 into a grove of trees he took a rounda 
 bout way through the fields to avoid the 
 gathering crows which, finally aroused, 
 now flocked to the scene of the disaster. 
 
 Breathless, he arrived on the nick of 
 time. His trunk was thrown aboard the 
 train; he entered the sleeper and was 
 whisked away toward Little Rock. 
 
 He went out again and stood upon the 
 platform until the last vestige of Clarks- 
 ville was passed. He then found a seat 
 in the smoking-room and smoked until 
 almost morning. 
 
 ***** 
 
 'Chicago!" Checkers stood once 
 more upon his native heath. He had 
 come directly from Little Rock, had
 
 220 CHECKERS 
 
 rented a modest room, and had taken up 
 again the thread of a drifting, devil 
 may-care existence. Gradually, the con-* 
 stant, active, throbbing pain of his be 
 reavement wore away, and in its stead 
 there came a sullen, morbid sense of the 
 uselessness of all things. He had 
 neither friends nor acquaintances; even 
 Murray Jameson was out of town. He 
 haunted the Fair grounds in the daytime 
 and the theatres at night. 
 
 "Excitement and Forgetfulness** 
 this might have been his watchword. 
 
 I feel that if I could have met him at 
 this time instead of almost i year latef 
 as I did, I might have brought an active 
 pressure to bear upon him, and saved to 
 him the good that the refining influence 
 of his wife and his ClarksviUe connec 
 tions had done him. But, alas! in this 
 busy world there is no such thing as 
 standing still. We either advance or 
 retrograde. The hill is steep o cMrob, 
 but going down is easy. 
 
 Checkers went down ; gradually, it is 
 true, but still he went down.
 
 CHECKERS 
 
 By degrees he met his fellow-roomers 
 in the house good fellows, all of them t 
 in their way, but worthless. Checkers 
 craved companionship. Often he sat in 
 a poker game all night with them, in 
 some one of their rooms, or "did the 
 Midway" with them, ever "mocking the 
 spirit which could be moved to such a 
 thing," but sometimes finding in it a 
 temporary respite from the bitter, haunt 
 ing memories of the past. 
 
 It would be difficult to follow, and un 
 interesting to read, the devious windings 
 of Checkers' way during the next few 
 months. Hardened, despondent, and 
 utterly careless; without the restraining 
 influence of worthy friends or home ties 
 to soften and hold him; with money, but 
 no occupation; time, but nothing to do 
 with it little wonder is it that, after the 
 great White City finally closed its gates, 
 shutting him off from his one simple 
 pleasure, he gradually drifted back to 
 the stirring scenes of his youth th< 
 "races and the betting-ring. 
 
 The history of every one of the hup
 
 222 CHECKERS 
 
 dreds of thousands of men who 
 "played the races" may be told in three 
 short words: "They went broke" 
 sooner or later. Generally sooner than 
 later; but "they went broke." 
 
 So it was with Checkers. Good infor 
 mation, careful betting playing horses 
 for place when he thought they eould 
 win; sometimes not risking a cent all 
 day; watching the owners, standing in 
 with the jockeys all this put him nicely 
 ahead for a while, and staved off the evil 
 day for long. But the eternal law of 
 average will not down, and the percent 
 age in the betting-ring is absurdly 
 against the bettor. A streak of hard 
 luck; a slaughter of the favorites; a 
 plunge ; throwing good money after bad ; 
 doubling up once or twice ; a final coup. 
 Pouf! One afternoon Checkers found 
 himself penniless. 
 
 That night he pawned his watch for 
 all it would bring. This put him in 
 funds again, but gave him pause. He 
 decided to stop gambling and go to work. 
 But the morn'ng paper contained a
 
 CHECKERS 223 
 
 tempting list of entries. It was Satur 
 day, and a short day. 
 
 He went to the track as usual, and at 
 the end of the third race was "broke." 
 Then he met Murray Jameson. Both 
 were surprised. Checkers told him his 
 story, and borrowed ten dollars. Mur 
 ray lost fifty more by playing Checkers' 
 tips, against his own better judgment. 
 Murray was "sore" Checkers apolo 
 getic. This was his first experience as 
 a tout. After that he picked up a pre 
 carious living, selling whatever articles 
 of value he possessed, one after another, 
 until he had left but the diamond star he 
 had given Pert as a wedding gift, and a 
 scanty wardrobe. 
 
 When necessity caused him to part 
 with the star he forswore the races, and 
 for two full weeks conscientiously 
 sought for legitimate employment. But 
 Chicago was filled with idle hands, which 
 the closing of the Fair months before 
 had left there stranded. Everything was 
 overcrowded. Business was dead, and 
 his search was unavailing. Then he
 
 224 CHECKERS 
 
 took up "touting" as a profession. He 
 rotated between the various "merry go- 
 rounds," which were open all seasons of 
 the year. The tout's stock devices 
 the "bank-roll" game, the "phoney" 
 ticket, the "jockey's cousin" he 
 worked with better success than most; 
 but, as a rule, his method was simple. 
 He sought the acquaintance of such as 
 he thought might be "persuaded," and 
 by showing confidence where they were 
 doubtful, knowledge where their own 
 was lacking, he usually managed to get 
 some four or five men to make bets dur 
 ing the day. Those who won were grate 
 ful, and generally paid him well for his 
 "information." The losers got an ex 
 planation of "how it was" and "a sure 
 thing for the next." 
 
 One thing, however, must be said for 
 Checkers. He never "touted" a horse 
 unless he thought it had a best chance 
 of winning. That is, if there were five 
 horses in a race, and Checkers had five 
 men "on his string," he never descended 
 to the common practice of getting
 
 CHECKERS 225 
 
 each one of the five to bet on a different 
 horse, and thus "land a sure winner. " 
 
 All five were certain to have the same 
 chance, and to stand or fall upon Check 
 ers' judgment. 
 
 Some weeks later it was that I first 
 met him, at Washington Park, Derby 
 Day. He told me afterward that the 
 minute he saw me he knew me for a 
 "mark" and tried to "get next." 
 
 Yet, for all, Checkers was not innately 
 bad. He was weak, I '11 admit, and 
 cruelly mistaken; but he had a simple, 
 lovable nature, and a natural longing 
 for higher things. A case in point: I 
 learned by chance that he never missed 
 a Sunday at church since the death of 
 his wife. He had no predilection, and I 
 espied him one day in my own sanctuary. 
 When questioned about it he told me 
 these facts, and confessed to the pleas- 
 ure he found in going. 
 
 "I do n't know," he said; "I always 
 enjoy it. It 's quiet and cool ; every 
 body 's well dressed, and I like to sit 
 there, close my eyes, think over my
 
 226 CHECKERS 
 
 troubles, and listen to the music. And 
 then, again" here his voice grew soft 
 "I 've a feeling that it pleases Pert to 
 know that I 'm there. She liked me to 
 go to church, and I think she knows it 
 now when I go; do n't you? I would n't 
 take a great deal of money and think 
 that she did n't know." 
 
 What Pert must have thought of his 
 actions weekdays was perhaps a fair 
 question; but it was one that I had the 
 heart not to ask. And so it went on ; my 
 efforts to get him a position and reform 
 him ending in nothing, as I have pre 
 viously related. 
 
 After the big meeting closed Checkers 
 reached his lowest ebb. It was during 
 these days that he made my office a loaf 
 ing place. I suppose that for six weeks 
 I practically supported him, lending him 
 two or three dollars at a time, to "square 
 his room rent," "get out his overcoat," 
 "pay a doctor's bill," "play a good 
 thing," and heaven knows what not 
 each time assuring him that I positively 
 would not succumb again, but regularly
 
 CHECKERS 227 
 
 cioing- so. Still, I never begrudged it 
 A couple of hours with him was worth a 
 few dollars at any time. I divided the 
 expense between my amusement and 
 charity accounts; and, in truth, when with 
 him I never could tell whether pleasure or 
 compassion had the upper hand with me. 
 I have tried to set down with some 
 succinctness the major part of his ex 
 periences as I heard them; but I fear 
 they have greatly lost, in the telling, 
 that delicious flavor of originality which 
 Checkers' person, voice, and manner 
 gave to them as I heard them piecemeal. 
 Many of his sayings, when repeated after 
 ward by Murray or me, scarcely caused 
 a smile, while coming from him they had 
 seemed to us excruciatingly funny. . But 
 I believe the secret was this he never 
 seemed to say anything with the primary 
 idea of being funny. He always looked 
 up with genuine surprise when his listen 
 ers laughed, and only joined them, when 
 the mirth was infectious, by deepening a 
 little the cynical curves at either corner 
 of his expressive mouth.
 
 228 CHECKERS 
 
 For two weeks I missed him On a 
 morning of the third he came in with a 
 look of happiness on his face. "I 've 
 got a job," he said, simply. I wrung 
 ^is hand. 
 
 "Where?" I asked. 
 
 "With Mr. Richmond." 
 
 Richmond was one of my friends. He 
 was a partner in a wholesale paper-house. 
 As a boy Checkers had worked in a 
 paper-house and knew the stock. As a 
 consequence he had been after Rich 
 mond, whom he had met through me, to 
 give him a position. Richmond liked 
 him, and, when an opportunity offered, 
 he sent for him and put him to work in 
 the stock. At the end of two weeks he 
 determined to give Checkers a chance 
 cpon the road. So Checkers was going 
 out that night, and had come to say 
 good-bye. I was delighted, you may be 
 sure. I gave him good advice, and bade 
 him Godspeed. A few days later I re 
 ceived this characteristic letter, dated 
 from some little town in Kansas:
 
 CHECKERS 229 
 
 DEAR MR. PRESTON: 
 
 " I 'm here doing a stage-coach business- 
 straining the leaders of my legs, hustlin'. If 
 trade keeps up I '11 have coin to melt when I 
 get home, and you bet I '11 melt it. The food 
 out here would poison a dog. I ain't got the 
 health to go against it. I 've been sick ever since 
 I left Chicago, anyhow, on account of MurraJ 
 Jameson. I met him at the depot the night I 
 left. He had a box of cigars he said a friend 
 of his brought him from Mexico. He gave me 
 a handful. I got on the train, and got busy 
 with one I like to croaked. Strong 1 ! ! Oh, 
 no it was n't strong! Drop one of them in a 
 can of dynamite and it 's ten to one it would 
 ' do * the can. Start a ' Mexican ' and a piece of 
 Limburger in a short dash, it 's a hundred to 
 one you 'd need a searchlight to find the Lim 
 burger. I 've switched to cigarettes. 
 
 " I got in here at six to-night, and I 'm going 
 to get away at one. After supper (Supper 1 
 I'll tell you about that later!) I went over to the 
 only shanty in the place that looked like a 
 Store, and opened the door. There were a lot 
 of ' Jaspers ' sitting around the stove, chewing 
 tobacco and swapping lies. I asked the guy 
 that got up when I came in where he kept his 
 stock (he had nothing in sight). He lighted a 
 lantern, walked me a quarter of a mile, and
 
 230 CHECKERS 
 
 showed me four ' mooley-cows ' say, I was 
 sore. But I 'm square with him I gave him a 
 couple of ' Mexicans.' 
 
 " That supper! Well, say, it was a ' peach.' 
 (I had an egg this morning and it was a ' bird.') 
 I sat down to the table with a St. Louis shce- 
 man. We turned the things down one by one 
 as they came in. A few soda-crackers on the 
 table saved our lives. We tried the griddle- 
 cakes. They were pieces of scorched, greasy 
 dough, as big as pie-plates. There were a 
 couple of ' Rubes ' at the other end of the table; 
 a short, little, fat one, and a long, lean, thin one. 
 We shoved the cakes on down their way. They 
 ate their own and ours, and ordered more. I 
 bet the shoe-man five on the fat one. We or 
 dered more ourselves and pushed them along. 
 The thin man finally began to weaken, but the 
 fat one got stronger every minute. My friend 
 said I was 'pullin',' and wanted to draw the 
 bet; but I made him 'give up.' 
 
 " Just as we were going, the waitress came 
 up with a grouch on, stuck out her chin, and 
 says, ' Pie ? ' 
 
 " ' Is it compulsory ? ' says the shoe-man. 
 
 " ' Naw; it 's mince.' 
 
 "'Well, that lets us out,' he says, and we 
 skipped."
 
 CHECKERS 231 
 
 Later 
 
 " I got interrupted here. The beys wanted 
 me to play 'high-five ' until train-time; I picked 
 up a little 'perfumery money,' and came up 
 here to Kansas City xo spend Saturday nighi 
 and Sunday. 
 
 " There 's a lot of ' rummies ' I used to know 
 hanging around here, 'broke.' They 've all ' got 
 their hand out.' One of them made me a talk 
 last night for enough to get to St. Louis on 
 said he ' must get there.' 
 
 "'Well,' I says, 'try the trucks; how are you 
 on swinging under ? ' 
 
 " ' Yes,' he says, ' you 're in luck, and makin' 
 a swell front, with your noisy duds and plenty 
 of money, but it 's a wonder you would n't ' let 
 your blood gush ' a little when you see an old 
 friend of yours in trouble.' 
 
 " That was a new one on me, and I ' loosened.' 
 Well, perhaps he '11 do me a good turn some 
 time. 
 
 " Now, I must close. I see dinner 's ready. 
 There 's a big, fat guy has been beating me of' 
 in a race for a seat I want in the dining-room. 
 I '11 ' put it over him a neck ' to-day for the chair. 
 The cross-eyed fairy that waits on that table can 
 dig up cream while the rest of the waitresses 
 are looking around to see if there 's any skimmed 
 milk in the joint.
 
 232 CHECKERS 
 
 "Yours till death and as long after as they 
 need me at the morgue. 
 
 " EDWARD CAMPBELL." 
 
 Occasionally I met Richmond and 
 asked him how Checkers was doing. 
 "Not badly," was the usual answer. 
 "He is handicapped, though," ex 
 plained Richmond one day, "by not 
 thoroughly knowing our goods and those 
 of other houses. After this trip I shall 
 put him to work in the store again for a 
 while." 
 
 But this never occurred. Either by 
 mistake or through a serious error in 
 judgment, Checkers sold an unusually 
 large bill at an absurdly low figure. This 
 brought a sharp reproof from the house, 
 which he answered cavalierly. His re 
 call and prompt dismissal followed. 
 
 A month elapsed before I saw him, 
 He had been trying to get another posi 
 tion before coming to me, for his pride 
 was lowered. One morning he came in 
 looking careworn and threadbare. I 
 welcomed him cordially, as usual. But 
 though neither of us referred to his re^
 
 CHECKERS 233 
 
 cent misfortune, it caused an evident 
 embarrassment in his manner. After a 
 few moments' desultory conversation he 
 drew a letter from his pocket. "Read 
 that," he said simply, handing it to me- 
 With difficulty I read what seemed to 
 be a letter from Mr. Barlow, his father- 
 in-law. In effect it set forth that he was 
 now alone. Mrs. Barlow was dead, and 
 her last dying request had been that he 
 find Checkers and restore to him his own. 
 This he had solemnly promised to do. 
 He complained that he was "poorly" 
 himself, and expected to be carried off 
 at any time, with "a misery in his chest. " 
 And he went on to say that if Checkers 
 had not married again (perish the 
 thought!), and would come back and live 
 with him and take care of him, he would 
 make him his heir to the old place as 
 well, and to what little else he had to 
 leave. He "did n't bear no grudge" for 
 the loss of the house, as things had 
 turned out he "liked a lad of sperrit. " 
 However, whether he found Checkers or 
 not, "the preacher and them whited sep-
 
 23> CHECKERS 
 
 ulchers" at the church "should nevel 
 finger a cent of what he left." There 
 followed a tirade which seemed to show 
 that the church people had made it hot 
 for the old man after Checkers' depart 
 ure, and doubtless more so after the 
 death of Mrs. Barlow. 
 
 "What do you think?" asked Checkers 
 as I finished. 
 
 "Think! I think it 's the best of good 
 fortune." 
 
 "Yes; with a horrible string tied to it. 
 Of course I want my place back; but 
 I 'd rather be hung than go back to 
 Clarksville." 
 
 "Stuff and nonsense!" I exclaimed. 
 
 "Yes; everything is; what is n't 'stuff' 
 is nonsense. But, say, the funniest 
 thing of all is that he seems to think I 
 burnt up the house. How do you sup 
 pose he got such a notion?" This with 
 a laughable expression of innocence. 
 
 "Isn't it possible, Checkers," I said, 
 "that this letter is a ruse to get you down 
 there and have you arrested for arson?" 
 
 He thought a moment. "No," he re-
 
 CHECKERS 235 
 
 plied; "I hardly think so. No judge or 
 jury down there would convict me, any 
 how, when they heard the facts still, 
 it 's about his size. If I had a little 
 money I would n't need to be in a hurry. 
 There 's some friends of mine got a bot- 
 tled-up *good thing' they 're going to 
 'turn loose' next week, that 's a 'mortal' 
 'Bessie Bisland' she '11 back in. If 
 I had about fifty I 'd win a lot of money, 
 quit gamblin', and wait till the old man 
 croaked. 
 
 "Checkers!" 
 
 *'Still, that might be risky; these old 
 guys 'take notice* again scand'lous quick. 
 While I was foolin' around some Ar 
 kansas fairy might get in and nail down 
 my little job." 
 
 "Yes," I laughed ; "upon all accounts, 
 the quicker you get there the better.' 5 
 
 Checkers closed one eye and fixed the 
 other on a spot in the ceiling. "I won 
 der," he murmured, "how the walking is 
 between here and Clarksville?" 
 
 "Checkers." I said, "are you broke 
 again?"
 
 236 CHECKERS 
 
 "If you can find the price of a car 
 ride on me, I Ml give it to you and I '11 
 help you hunt." 
 
 "Checkers, your acquaintance has 
 been expensive for me," I said soberly. 
 "I suppose now you want me to give you 
 the money to take you to Clarksville. " 
 
 "Mr. Preston!" he exclaimed, with an 
 earnest expression, "I don't want you to 
 give me anything. All the money I 've 
 had from you has been borrowed. I 've 
 kept a strict tab on it, and I intend to 
 repay it. My farm down there is worth 
 $20,000; when I get that back I '11 be 
 'in the heart of town.' But I don't 
 want to go back looking like a 'hobo,' 
 and I 've got to have some money 'to 
 make a front with.' I could write the 
 old man that I 'm flat, and get him to 
 send me some money easy enough. But 
 that would give him the upper hand of 
 me, and queer me on the start. If I 
 drop in unexpectedly, looking as though 
 I had money to throw to the birds, he 's 
 Hkdy to 'unbelt' right away, and I '11
 
 CHECKERS 237 
 
 send you your stuff the minute I get 
 it." 
 
 Well, the upshot of it all was that I 
 advanced to Checkers what he needed 
 within reason. He consumed nearly a 
 week in making his preparations; but in 
 the mean time I suggested that he ad 
 vise Mr. Barlow and Judge Martin of his 
 coming. When the day finally arrived 
 he insisted that I dine with him before 
 his departure; but I had an engagement, 
 and was forced to refuse. We com 
 promised, however, on a modest lunch 
 eon, during which I advised him earn 
 estly and well. 
 
 "Now, Checkers," I said, before bid 
 ding him farewell, "you are about to be 
 gin a new life; be a man, settle down, 
 and make some good resolutions." 
 
 "I have," he said. "It '11 take me a 
 year to live down those I have made al 
 ready. Just think of Bessie Bisland 
 running this afternoon and me with not 
 a nickel on her." 
 
 "And, Checkers," I said, "you must
 
 238 CHECKERS 
 
 school yourself to endure what maj 
 come, however unpleasant. Treat the 
 old man well it won't be for long; and 
 remember what it means to you in the 
 future. When you get your property, 
 whether soon or late, keep it, or rent it, 
 and live within your income." 
 
 "You bet I will," he replied, "and I 
 believe I '11 hire three or four little 
 sleuths to go round with me all the time, 
 and see that nobody 'does' me." 
 
 "Have Judge Martin advise you," I 
 said. "He doubtless knows the law; 
 and write to me when you are settled I 
 shall be interested." I clasped his hand 
 warmly in one of mine, and rested my 
 other upon his shoulder. "And now 
 good-bye, my boy," I said; "you have 
 had a long run of hard luck, and I am 
 glad that fortune is about to smile upon 
 you again. Quit gambling; watch your 
 opportunities and make the best of them 
 as they come. Good-bye." 
 
 "Good-bye, Mr. Preston. What you 
 say is no 'song without words,' and I 'U
 
 CHECKERS 239 
 
 remember it. I have had hard luck, and, 
 no matter what comes, I can never be 
 as happy as I 've been in the past. But 
 we all have our troubles, and I '11 try to 
 make the best of things, like the old 
 crone who had only two teeth, but she 
 said 'Thank God, they hit!' Good-bye." 
 Again we shook hands and parted 
 
 silently, taking opposite directions. 
 * * # # # 
 
 Ten days have passed, and I have not 
 heard from Checkers it is doubtless 
 still a little early. 
 
 The morning after we parted I 
 chanced to see in the paper that "Bessie 
 Bisland" "also ran." It is quite as 
 well, therefore, that Checkers did not 
 defer his going, but went that night.
 
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