I took the bet, taking a chance that his scheme, whatever it was, would fail. We both took our places at the point where Dug said the car would stop and awaited results. In a few minutes another headlight showed us that another car was coming. There was a cab standing by the curb with a tag on it marked “Public Cab,” and when the car was about a block and a half away, Dug grabbed the whip out of the socket and caught the horse by the bridle, and with a little cussing and whipping, brought the cab directly across the car track. Unbeknown to us the driver was sleeping inside the cab, the movement of the cab awakened him and about the time the wheels struck the car track, the driver fell out of the door of the cab and landed on all fours in the street. He regained his feet and as soon as he saw Dug at the horse’s head a sulphuric string of oaths rolled out of his mouth that it is not often the privilege of a white man to hear.
“You blankety blank fool,” said the driver, “what are you trying to steal my horse for?”
“Hold on there, young fellow,” said Dug, “your horse was running away and I caught him at the risk of my life. You ought to thank me, not curse me.”
“You are a liar,” said the cabbie, “that horse can’t run.”
This was too much for Dug and he promptly knocked the cabbie down. By this time the car had stopped with the fender touching the wheels of the cab. The cabbie had regained his feet and was hollowing “Bloody murder” at the top of his voice. Dug let go of the bridle and hit the horse a couple of cuts across the rump. This set him off on a dog trot down the road and the cabbie took after him. Dug and I boarded the car, the conductor gave the signal to go ahead and this closed the incident so far as we were concerned. I guess the cabbie caught his horse, anyway he wouldn’t be much loss.
It cost me ten dollars, but it put Dug in good humor and he tells now that if I want something else to swear off on I can swear off on betting against a sure thing.
Yours,
Jack.
“A DUFFER WINKED AT HER.”