“Gosh!” Coffin cried, with a burst of his old fervor, “I feel like the chairman of a woman’s club after an annual election. Where you going to feed your visage, old man?” he added tentatively. He was out of funds, hungry and weary. The hundred dollars won from the Klondyker in the smoking wager, deposited for bail, had, in fact, completely exhausted his resources. The Conductor, however, refused to take the hint, and manifested a desire to get away.
“Oh, I got to snoop back to the Beach,” he said. “This has been a hard day for me, and I dunno how I’m a-goin’ to get even on my hundred if I have to stand trial. I ain’t exactly hungry, anyway, but perhaps I’ll stew up some canned stuff out to the cars. Want to come along? You’ll have to walk, though, and it’s full seven miles through the Park.”
“No, thanks,” said Coffin, dryly. “I’ve got a poke-out coming to me at nine, and I guess I can wait. I’ll walk up and down, and let the girls admire me for a season.”
“Well, good-by, then!” said Eli Cook of Carville-by-the-Sea, and he hurriedly made off down Kearney Street.
The youngster mused. “I shall now endeavor to give the correct imitation of a thousand-dollar sport in the act of starving to death. I am wondering, in my simple Japanese way, whether that gentle Klondyker with my prize money in tow, will ever swim into my ken again. It’s a good deal like trying to find a pet oyster in a mud flat, but I’ll try my best. Angels, they say, can do no more. Selah!” With that he walked up to Gunschke’s cigar store and found the young man who had assisted at the smoking orgy of the night before. The clerk, however, knew nothing of the Klondyker’s whereabouts, having never seen the Father of the Katakoolanat previous to the debauch. The Freshman was in a quandary.
“Say, has your luck changed yet?” the salesman asked. “Last time I heard, the curve was still rising.”
“By Jove, I had forgotten all about that,” cried Coffin. “Let’s see, I won my hundred at the wager, then I won my thousand, more or less, in the Chinese lottery, but then I was pulled, and dropped the hundred at the Tanks. The grand psychological query is, Do I get that thou’? If I had a nickel to my name I’d put the delicate question to the Oracle of the Slot and find out how I stand on Fortune’s Golden Rolls.”
“Oh, I’ll stake you; here you are,” the salesman answered, tossing out a nickel. “I’d like to know myself. If you’re still winning I’ll take you out to the race-track and let you do my betting.”
The Freshman pushed the coin down the slot of the poker machine and jerked the handle. Three treys appeared behind the wire. “Bully!” cried the salesman. “Here, you draw four cigars!”
“Nay, nay, Pauline!” Coffin exclaimed in disgust. “I wouldn’t eat another cigar to be crowned King of the Barbary Coast! I can never endure the smell of tobacco again without being as sea-sick as a cat in a swing. Much obliged for your charity, but I’ll call it square for the good omen.”