David Lannarck, Midget | Page 4

the time, and we've got to work fast and
cautious.
"Now Fisheye would balk and walk away on us if we offered him these
bears for nothing; he just wouldn't understand it. He dickers in animals
a little; trains 'em and has 'em doing things right away. He likes 'em and
they like old Fisheye. Why, he can take these little bears and have 'em
turning somersaults, dancing, and climbing to their perches in no time.
Then he sells 'em into some big act.
"Fisheye is our meat for this play, but don't sell out too quick."
Leaving the cubs to the further destruction of their cage, the
prospective salesmen wended their way through a maze of sidewalls,
poles, unplaced wagons, cages. On past the refreshment booth that was
setting up in the central area; past a score of elephants, swaying in
contentment over the morning hay; past camels, llamas, zebras, and
other luminaries, to the far end of the big tent where a group of laborers
were aiding two elephants to line up the last of the cages and vans in a
proper circle around the enclosure.
It was all confusing enough to the big Westerner, but the little man
knew where to go. He pressed forward to where a little, old, dried up
"razorback" was regaling two of the workmen with words of
experience if not wisdom.
"'En I told Shako," he declared with emphasis, "that he never could win
back old Mom's confidence, till he got a big armload of sugarcane en

doled hit out to her. En shore enough when we got to Little Rock and
Shako got holt of some sugarcane, he win that old elephant's respect
instanter. En that ain't all! When we got to Memphis en hit into that big
storm, why ole Mom--" But the audience died away to one man as the
midget's voice interrupted.
"Say, Fisheye, I want you to meet a friend of mine, Mr. Welborn. Meet
Mr. Welborn, Mr. Gleason. Mr. Welborn here dickers a little in native
animals and has a couple of the slickest, fattest, neatest bear cubs I've
seen in years. He's got too much business to give any time to training
them and I told him of your success with animals and he wants to make
a deal with you."
"What kind of a deal? And where's yer bars?" Fisheye was alert to the
business up to knowing the full import of the deal.
"They are out here in a coop--on a trailer. He brought them down out of
the mountains this morning."
"Did ye ketch 'em this mornin'?" queried Fisheye as he followed the
two salesmen to the truck.
"Naw, he's had 'em in training for two months. Best of all, he knows
how to take care of their hair, how to feed 'em. Look, there they are,
alike as two peas and ready to climb a pole or turn a somersault."
Fisheye was peering through the slats. "I wish we had 'em out whar I
could see 'em better. Now what's yer deal, Prince? Ye said somethin'
about a deal?"
"Well, it's like this, Fisheye. Mr. Welborn could go right on training
these bruins and peddle them through an ad in Billboard for a sure two
hundred smackers, surely by Thanksgiving--"
"Two hundred nothin's," retorted the wary Fisheye, who was not to let a
fancy price go by without protest. "Thar's no bar in the world wuth a
hundred dollars. Why up in the Yallerstone, they offer to give 'em
away!"

"Sure they do, or did last year. They are the old mangy bears that
bother tourists, Jesse James bears, that they want to get rid of. But they
wouldn't sell you a cub for love or money. Bears are scarce this year.
They hint of a bear famine up there.
"And anyhow, you didn't let me finish. Why if you owned these bears
and had 'em climbing an injun ladder right up to their perch in the
animal act, had 'em dancing, turning somersaults, you would ask a half
grand for them and never bat an eye. They would be worth it, and you
know it. But rather than go through the work of getting them ready, Mr.
Welborn is willing to take an even hundred for the two. Better still,
he'll let you make a note for the hundred due in ninety days--or say
Christmas. By that time you've got the bears sold and your note paid,
and jingling the difference."
Fisheye was squinting through the slats. "I wish we had 'em out whar a
man could see what he's buying."
"Haven't you got an empty cage where we could turn them out in the
daylight?" asked the sales manager.
"Shore I have. I jist got pie Rip's cage all cleaned out