The two flashy-looking chaps who had first been tackled by the tout on the Rolling Boer proposition now walked up behind him with long faces.
"Say, Red, why didn't you pitch that at us a little stronger, hey?"
"Get t'ell away from me, you pikers!" was the red-haired tout's reply.
[HE "COPPERED" HIS WIFE'S "HUNCHES."]
Wherein It Is Shown That the Feminine Intuition Is Liable to Occasionally Slip a Cog.
"Yes, siree," said the man with the ravelled cigar and the granulated eyelids who swung precariously from a strap in a car of a returning Sheepshead Bay train the other evening, "it certainly is funny about these here hunches that women have, ain't it?"
"No," said the two seated men he was addressing.
"Certainly is queer what freaky ideas they get into their heads," went on the man with the ravelled cigar, ignoring the lack of encouragement extended to him. "And when it comes to picking out good things on a race-track, picking 'em out just on hunch, ain't they wonders, hey?"
"Nope," said the two men at whom he was directing his conversation.
"It sure beats the Painted Post Silver Cornet Band how they can stick a pin in a program with their eyes shut and light on a 100 to 1 shot that wins a-blinking," continued the man with the granulated eyelids, tearing two or three superfluous wrappers off his ravelled cigar. "Their system beats the dope and the handicapping all to shucks, don't it?"