Fortunately, at this moment Sadie and Josiah were delighted by a view of the flying-horses in full operation, and at the same instant Master Foss was attracted by a game of ball in which the target was a negro’s head; and Bob whispered:—
“Here’s our chance! You get them two on the horses, an’ I’ll see that Bill has a show to hit the nigger if he can.”
Neither of the hosts participated in the pleasure, except as a spectator; but it appeared to be enjoyment enough for them, and when fifteen minutes had passed, this portion of the programme was brought to a close.
Bill did not succeed in striking the target; but the exercise, together with the fact that it was what he called “a free blow” so far as he was concerned, had put him in the best of humor, therefore, with a magnanimity which caused his friends no slight amount of pleasure, he was willing to so far unbend his dignity as to walk not more than a few yards in advance of Sadie.
Five cents were invested in “nigger eye-balls,” five more in “bolivars,” and then the sight-seers promenaded the entire length of the beach, past all the booths, stopping here and there to see some free entertainment given as an attraction to a restaurant or saloon, remaining at each one until the proprietor or an employee suggested that it was time for them to be “movin’, for they didn’t bring any trade to the place.”
This portion of the sight-seeing had occupied the remainder of the forenoon, and then came what the hosts intended should be, and Tom announced was, the “boss part of the day.”
“We’re goin’ right in here, an’ every one is to have a plate of clam chowder,” he said with the air of a millionaire, if indeed millionaires indulge in clam chowder at Coney Island.
Sadie’s eyes opened wide with astonishment as the daring Tom led the way into a restaurant even more magnificent than the “Jim Fisk” establishment on Chatham Street; and, halting his party in the centre of the room, he announced to one of the waiters with not so much as a tremor of his eyelids, that they had “come for a chowder.”
The man looked at these intended customers a moment, as if to decide whether they had sufficient money to pay for the desired refreshments, and then motioned them to a table at the farther corner of the room, although one near the window was without an occupant.
Tom was about to obey the mute command, when Bob stopped him by saying in a hoarse whisper:—