EVAN LOSES A ROUND
Evan, somewhat crestfallen, went out on deck and lit a cigarette. "Oh, well, it can't last forever," he told himself. He found a seat near an open window where he could overhear the story. To his mind Corinna had not much of a talent for it. He thought he could have told a better one himself. It was the chronicle of an unpleasantly good little girl, and when Corinna was gravelled for matter to continue with, she filled in by lengthily describing the heroine's clothes. "Just filibustering like the U. S. Senate," thought Evan disgustedly.
Corinna, suspecting perhaps that she had too critical a listener, changed her seat on the pretext of a draught and he could hear no more.
Meanwhile the good ship Ernestina was industriously wig-wagging her walking-beam down the upper Bay. She was a quaint, crablike little craft. Her tall and skinny smokestack was like a perpetual exclamation point. Her gait resembled that of a sprightly old horse who makes a great to-do with his feet on the road but somehow gets nowhere. At the end of each stroke of her piston she seemed to stop for an instant and then with a wheeze and a clank from below, and a violent tremor from stem to stern, started all over. Her paddle-wheels kicked up alarming looking rollers behind, but with it all she travelled no faster than a steam canal-boat. Not that it mattered; the children got just as much ozone as on the deck of the Aquitania.
Evan's patience was not inexhaustible. By the time they reached Norton's Point he was obliged to go in to see how the story was progressing. It was no nearer its end, as far as he could judge. Corinna's Dorothy Dolores was donning a party dress of pink messaline with a panne velvet girdle. The children's interest flagged and they drifted away, but there were always others to take their places.
Ikey O'Toole and his pal happened to pass through the saloon bound on some errand of their own, and Evan had a wicked idea. "Come here, boys," said he, "and I'll tell you a story about robbers."
Their eyes brightened. Evan took a seat opposite Corinna's and began:
"There was a band of train-robbers and cattle-rustlers who lived in a cave out in Arizona, and they had for a leader a guy named Three-fingered Pete. Pete could draw a gun quicker with his three fingers than any other man with five."
And so on. There was magic in it. Let it not be supposed that little girls are proof against a story of robbers however they may make believe. They came drifting across the saloon. In ten minutes there were twenty children surrounding Evan, while Corinna's audience had dwindled to four and they were restive. Corinna kept on. Her pale, calm profile revealed nothing to Evan, but he doubted if she were pale and calm within. Corinna was not red-headed for nothing.
When her hearers were reduced to two she abruptly rose. Evan wondered if sweet Dorothy Dolores had been brought to a violent end. He got up too.