A Good Samaritan | Page 3

spoke with
annoyance--this scene was getting tiresome, and although Reed was
laughing hopelessly, he was on his mind.
"Oh! F'got!" Billy's tipsy coyness was elephantine. "Lives six thous'n
sev'nty four North S--South Street," and he roared with laughter.
Rex was about to learn how to manage Billy Strong. "Bill," he said, "be
decent. You're making me lots of trouble," and Billy burst into tears
and sobbed out:
"Wouldn' make Recky trouble for worlds--good ol' Recky--half-witted
ol' goat, but bes' fren' ev' had," and the address was captured.
Rex turned to his cousin, his winning, deprecating manner warning
Reed but softening him against his will. "Carty," he said, "there's
nothing for it, but for you to take one chap and I the other and see 'em
home. It's only a little after seven and we ought to be able to meet by
half-past eight--at the Hotel Netherland, say--that's near the Rush's.
We'll have to give up dinner, but we'll get a sandwich somewhere, and
we'll do. I'll take Strong because he's more troublesome--I think I can
manage him. It's awfully good of you, and I can tell you I appreciate it.
But it wouldn't be civilized to do less, old Carty, would it?" And Reed
found himself, grumbling but docile, linked to the suicide's arm, and
guiding his shuffling foot-steps in the way they should go.
"Now, we'll both kill ourselves, old Carty, won't we?" Rex heard his
cousin's charge mumble cheerfully as they started off, with a visible
lengthening of his gloom at the thought of companionship at death.

Strong was marching along with an unearthly decorum that should have
made Fairfax suspicious. But instead it cheered his optimistic soul
immensely. "Good for you old man," he said encouragingly. "At this
rate we'll get you home in no time." And Billy, at that second, thrust
out his great shoulder into the crowd, and almost knocked a man down.
The man, whirled sidewise in front of them, glared savagely.
"What do you mean by that?" he demanded. Strong, to whom nothing
would have given more joy than a tussle, bent down and peered into the
other's face.
"Is it a man or a monkey?" he piped, and shrieked with laughter.
The man's strained temper broke suddenly and Rex caught him by the
arm as he was about to spring for Strong, and promptly threw himself
between the two.
"Look here, Billy," he remonstrated, "if you fight anybody it's got to be
me," and he spoke over his shoulder to the stranger. "You see what I'm
up against. I'm getting him home--do just go on," and the man went.
But Billy's head was in his guardian's neck and he was spluttering and
sobbing. "Fight you? Nev'--s' help me--nev'--Fight poor, ole fool
Recky--bes' fren' ev' had? No sir. I wouldn' fight you Recky," and he
raised a tear-stained face and gazed mournfully into his eyes. "D'ye
think I'd----"
"Oh, shut up!" Rex ejaculated, "and hold your head up, Billy. You
make me sick."
The intoxicated heavy freight being under way again, Rex looked about
for the rest of the train, but in vain. After a halt of a minute or so he
decided that they were lost and would have to stay lost, the situation
being too precarious, in this land of policemen, with one hundred and
ninety pounds of noisy uncertainty on his hands, to risk any
unnecessary movement. Billy kept every breath of time alive and varied.
Within two minutes of the first adventure he managed to put his elbow
clearly and forcibly into a small man's mouth, and before the other

could resent it:
"'S my elbow, sir," he said, haughtily, stopping and staring down.
"Well, why in thunder don't you keep it where it belongs?" snapped the
man, and Billy caught him by the sleeve.
"Lil' sir," he said impressively, "if you should bite off my elbow, you
saucy baggage"--and the thought was too much for him. Tears filling
his eyes he turned to Rex. "Recky, you spank that lil' sir," he pleaded
brokenly. "He's too lil' for me--I'd hurt him"--and Rex meditated again.
A shock came when they reached the corner of Broadway and
Chambers Street. "Up's' daisy," crowed Billy Strong, and swung
Fairfax facing uptown with a mighty heave.
"The Elevated station's down a block, old chap," explained the sober
contingent. "We have to take the Elevated to Seventy-second you know,
and walk across to your place."
Billy looked at him pityingly. "You poor lil' pup," he crooned. "Didn' I
keep tellin' you had to go Chris'pher Street ferry meet a girl? Goin'
theater with girl." He tipped his derby one-sided and started off on a
cakewalk.
Rex had to march beside him willy-nilly. "Look here, Billy," he
reasoned, exasperated at this entirely fresh twist in the corkscrew
business