"Umph!"
"I play a fair hand at Bridge, and have an unexceptionable eye for matching worsteds."
"G-r-r!"
"That about sums up my list of accomplishments, but I dare say that I could learn to dig, for I have my full complement of limbs. Finally, a rare and pretty talent for losing money and a penchant for the unlucky side of everything."
"Well, gentlemen," declared the student of medicine, with a snort, "it's quite evident that we're all playing the fool together. I wish you a very good-evening, and the devil take all crawfishers." And with that he marched off, evidently in high dudgeon. A little ripple of laughter swept over the upturned faces of the crowd. "One dollar," repeated the young man, his voice full of a polite weariness. "Do I hear no other bid? I offer myself, a human chattel, at absolute sale; no reservations; warranted sound and kind; no objection to the country; not afraid of the Elevated railway."
"Five dollars," said a voice at the rear, and a short, stout man, with little, black, beadlike eyes, held up his hand to identify his bid. "Joe Bardi," said a man to his neighbor. Both turned interestedly.
"And who is Joe Bardi?" inquired Indiman, blandly.
"Business of shipping sailors. There's big money in it, they say."
"Ah, yes, a crimp—isn't that what they call them?"
"Right you are, mister. A hard one, too. It'll be a sharp man that does for old Joe Bardi."