The Luck of the Mounted | Page 8

the hard seats an' I went up to him an' I said,

'Hullo, Mister! why don't you wash your face an' shave it? we've all
washed our faces this morning' . . . . We did, didn't we, Alice?--an'
washed Porkey's too, an' he said 'Hullo, Bo! wash my face?--I don't
have to--I might catch cold.'"
"But Jerry!" said another child's voice, "I don't think he could have
been a real hobo, or he'd have had an empty tomato-can hanging
around his neck on a string, like the pictures of 'Weary Willie' an' 'Tired
Tim' in the funny papers."
Then ensued the sounds as of a juvenile scuffle and squawk. Master
Jerry apparently resented having his pet convictions treated in this
"Doubting Thomas" fashion, for the next thing George heard him say,
was:
"Goozlemy, goozlemy, goozlemy! . . . No! he hadn't got a tomato-can,
silly! but he'd got a big, fat bottle in his pocket an' he pulled the cork
out of it an' sucked an' I said 'What have you got in your bottle?' an' he
said 'Cold tea' but it didn't smell a bit like cold tea. There's a Mounted
Policeman sitting in that seat in front of us. Let's ask him. Policemen
always lock hoboes up in gaol an' kick them in the stomach, like you
see them in the pictures."
The next instant there came a pattering of little feet and two small
figures scrambled into the vacant seat in front of Redmond. His gaze
fell on a diminutive, red-headed, inquisitive-faced urchin of some eight
years, and a small, gray-eyed, wistful-looking maiden, perhaps about a
year younger, with hair that matched the boy's in colour. Under one
dimpled arm she clutched tightly to her--upside-down--a fat, squirming
fox-terrier puppy. Hand-in-hand, in an attitude of breathless,
speculative awe, they sat there bolt upright, like two small gophers;
watching intently the face of the uniformed representative of the Law,
as if seeking some reassuring sign.
It came presently--a kind, boyish, friendly smile that gained the
confidence of their little hearts at once.
"Hullo, nippers!" he said cheerily.

"Hullo!" the two small trebles responded.
"What's your name, son?"
"Jerry!"
"Jerry what?"
An uneasy wriggle and a moment's hesitation then--"Jeremiah!" came a
small--rather sulky--voice.
Breathing audibly in her intense eagerness the little girl now came to
the rescue.
"Please, policeman?" she stopped and gulped excitedly--"please,
policeman?--he doesn't like to be called that. . . . It isn't his fault. He
always throws stones at the bad boys when they call him that. Call him
just 'Jerry.'"
That gamin, turning from a minute examination of Redmond's spurred
moccasins, began to swing his chubby legs and bounce up and down
upon the cushioned seat.
"Her name's Alice," he volunteered, with a sidelong fling of his
carrot-tinted head. "Yes! she's my sister"--he made a snatch at the pup
whose speedy demise was threatened, from blood to the head--"don't
hold Porkey that way, Alice! his eyes'll drop out."
But his juvenile confrere shrugged away from his clutch. "Stupid!" she
retorted, with fine scorn, "no they won't . . . . it's on'y guinea pigs that
do that!--when you hold them up by their tails." Nevertheless she
promptly reversed that long-suffering canine, which immediately
demonstrated its gratitude by licking her face effusively.
The all-important question of the hobo was next commended to his
attention, with a tremendous amount of chattering rivalry, and, with
intense gravity he was cogitating how to render a satisfactory finding to
both factions when steps, and the unmistakable rustle of skirts, sounded

in his immediate rear. Then a lady's voice said, "Oh, there you are,
children! . . . I was wondering where you'd got to."
The two heads bobbed up simultaneously, with a joyful "Here's
Mother!" and George, turning, glanced with innate, well-bred curiosity
at a stout, pleasant-faced, middle-aged woman who stood beside them.
"I hope these young imps haven't been bothering you?" she said. "We
were in that car behind, but I was reading and they've been having a
great time romping all over the place. Oh, well! I suppose it's too much
to expect children to keep still on a train."
With a fond motherly caress she patted the two small flaming heads
that now snuggled boisterously against her on either side.
"Come now! Messrs. Bubble and Squeak!" she urged teasingly,
"march!--back to our car again!"
"Bubble and Squeak" seemed appropriate enough just then, to judge by
the many fractious objections immediately voiced by those two small
mutineers. They were loth to part with their latest acquaintance and
weren't above advertising that fact with unnecessary vehemence. Even
the puppy raised a snuffling whine.
"Boo-hoo!" wailed Jerry, "don't want to go in the other car--me an'
Alice want to stay here--the policeman's goin' to tell us all about
hoboes--he--"
"Oh, dear!" came