Shorty McCabe on the Job

Shorty McCabe on the Job, by
Sewell Ford,

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Title: Shorty McCabe on the Job
Author: Sewell Ford

Release Date: April 7, 2007 [eBook #21005]
Language: English
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MCCABE ON THE JOB***
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SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
by
SEWELL FORD
Author of Shorty Mccabe, Side-Stepping with Shorty, Etc.
Illustrated by F. Vaux Wilson

[Illustration: "It might give us some clew," says I, "as to what him and
your paw had a run-in about."]

New York Grosset & Dunlap Publishers
Copyright, 1913, 1914, 1915, by Sewell Ford Copyright, 1915, by
Edward J. Clode All rights reserved

CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I. Wishing a New One on Shorty 1 II. A Few Squirms by Bayard 18 III.
Peeking in on Pedders 32 IV. Two Singles to Goober 49 V. The Case
of a Female Party 65 VI. How Millie Shook the Jinx 81 VII. Reverse
English on Sonny Boy 100 VIII. Gumming Gopher to the Map 115 IX.
What Lindy Had up Her Sleeve 131 X. A Case of Nobody Home 150
XI. Under the Wire with Edwin 165 XII. A Fifty-Fifty Split with Hunk

182 XIII. A Follow Through by Eggy 198 XIV. Catching up with
Gerald 217 XV. Shorty Hears from Pemaquid 233 XVI. Scratch One on
Bulgaroo 251 XVII. Bayard Ducks His Past 267 XVIII. Trailing
Dudley Through a Trance 285 XIX. A Little While with Alvin 304

ILLUSTRATIONS
"It might give us some clew," says I, "as to what him and your paw has
a run-in about" Frontispiece
FACING PAGE "I wouldn't have anything happen to you for the
world," says I 8
"Now see hea-uh, Mistuh Constable," says he, "I wouldn't go for to do
anything like that" 60
"Say, I'm a bear for Paris" 97
"Now, friends," he calls, "everybody in on the chorus" 124
"What's the idea," says Mabel, "wishin' this Rube stuff on us?" 157
He sidles up to the desk and proceeds to make some throaty noises 199
Blamed if Dudley don't have the nerve to tow Veronica into the next
room, stretchin' on tiptoe to talk in her ear 298

SHORTY McCABE ON THE JOB
CHAPTER I
WISHING A NEW ONE ON SHORTY
Do things just happen, like peculiar changes in the weather, or is there a
general scheme on file somewhere? Is it a free-for-all we're mixed up
in--with our Harry Thaws and our Helen Kellers; our white slavers, our

white hopes, and our white plague campaigns; our trunk murders, and
our fire heroes? Or are we runnin' on schedule and headed somewhere?
I ain't givin' you the answer. I'm just slippin' you the proposition, with
the side remark that now and then, when the jumble seems worse than
ever, you can get a glimpse of what might be a clew, or might not.
Anyway, here I was, busy as a little bee, blockin' right hooks and body
jabs that was bein' shot at me by a husky young uptown minister who's
a headliner at his job, I understand, but who's developin' a good, useful
punch on the side. I was just landin' a cross wallop to the ribs, by way
of keepin' him from bein' too ambitious with his left, when out of the
tail of my eye I notices Swifty Joe edgin' in with a card in his paw.
"Time out!" says I, steppin' back and droppin' my guard. "Well, Swifty,
what's the scandal?"
"Gent waitin' to see you," says he.
"Let him wait, then," says I.
"Ah-r-r-r, but he's a reg'lar gent!" protests Swifty, fingerin' the card.
"Even so, he'll keep five minutes more, won't he?" says I.
"But he--he's----" begins Swifty, strugglin' to connect that mighty
intellect of his with his tongue.
"Ah, read off the name," says I. "Is it Mayor Mitchel, Doc Wilson, or
who?"
"It says J. B-a-y-a-r-d Ste--Steele," says Swifty.
"Eh?" says I, gawpin'. "Lemme see. Him! Say, Swifty, you go back and
tell J. Bayard that if he's got nerve enough to want to see me, it'll be a
case of wait. And if he's at all messy about it, I give you leave to roll
him downstairs. The front