Cole of Spyglass Mountain

by Arthur Preston Hankins

“Uh-huh,” murmured the girl, edging her chair closer to the table and resting her round, smooth chin in both hands. “Go on, Slim. Spill it.”

“Well, it begun jes’ a little w’ile after dey sprung me from de House of Refuge—see? I’m runnin’ de pool tables in Carlo’s Place, down on Nort’ Street, in Hat’away. Youse savvy de dump.”

“Uh-huh—sure I do.”

“Well, one afternoon a plug drifts in an’ watches de games a little, den w’en I’m settin’ up de balls after a couple o’ guys gets t’rough playin’, dis boid sidles over an’ braces me. He asts me if I don’t want a drink an’ a lotta bunk like dat, an’ I’m on right away he’s got sumpin’ on his chest. He’s wearin’ de rags—see?—an’ he looks like money. So I drift wid um, an’ we go to De White House Saloon an’ set in a boot’.

“Well, finally he springs it dat he savvies who I am—see? An’ he knows I jes’ was sprung from de House of Refuge. An’ he asts me if I ain’t de guy dat Number Fifty-six thoity-five had a scrap wid dere. Dat’s Tony, youse know—dat was his number. I tell um yes.

“Den he monkeys aroun’ a little, not sayin’ much of anyt’ing, an’ finally he comes across wid de dope dat he’s Tony’s ole man. His name’s John Cole—see?—an’ I’ll tell de worl’ he’s some interested in his kid!

“An’ finally we get down to business, an’ he springs de dope. An’ it’s like dis here:

“W’en Tony’s mudder croaked dey let Tony go home from de House of Refuge. An’ w’ile he was dere he meets an’ ole uncle he’s never seen before. He’s his mudder’s brudder—see? Dis ole boid’s got a lotta jack. An’ de family dat Tony’s mudder belonged to wouldn’t have nuttin’ to do wid her w’ile she’s alive because she hooked up wid dis Cole. He’s a sport an’ a gambler, it looks like, an’ dey’re off um f’r life. But w’en Tony’s mudder croaked dey all come to de funeral an’ was nice as pie. An’ dis ole uncle comes an’ takes a shine to Tony.

“But he’s a funny ole gink—half nuts, I got it—an’ he goes away all of a sudden, an’ don’t say nuttin’ to nobody. He was gonta get Tony outa de House of Refuge, an’ dis an’ dat an’ de udder t’ing, an’ jes’ raise hell generally. But he seems to ferget all about it, an’ beats it widout even tellin’ Tony good-by.

“Well, Tony goes back to de House of Refuge an’ fergets all about um, I guess. But before Tony gets sprung dis ole guy gets sick an’ t’inks he’s gonta croak. He’s got a lotta jack, an’ w’en he makes out his will he leaves a hundred an’ fifty thou’ to Tony, an’ Tony was to get it w’en he got to be twenty-one.