The Miracle Man | Page 7

me!" said the Flopper to the universe. "I can smell de pine
woods of Maine in me nostrils now. When does I beat it,
Doc--to-morrer?"
Doc Madison laughed.
"No, Flopper, not to-morrow--nor for several to-morrows--not till the
bill-posters get through, and the stage is dark, and you can hear a pin
drop in the house. I don't want you camping out and catching cold and
missing any of the luxuries you're accustomed to, so I'll start along
ahead in a day or so myself and see what kind of accommodations I can
secure."
"Swipe me!" said the Flopper again. "An' to think of me wastin' me
talent on rubber-neck fleets!"
A puzzled little frown puckered Helena's forehead.
"I was thinking about the deaf and dumb man," she said slowly. "How
about him, when we pull this off--will he stand for it--and what'll he
do?"
"Aw!" said Pale Face Harry impatiently. "He don't count! He'll have
bats in his belfry anyway, and if he ain't he'll go off his chump for fair
getting stuck on himself when he sees the stunt he'll think he's done.
He'll be looking for the wings between his shoulder blades, and hunting
for the halo around his head."
"Harry is waking up," observed Doc Madison affably. "That's about the
idea, Helena. I haven't seen the Patriarch yet, but I don't imagine from
his description that it'll be very hard to make him believe in himself. He
doesn't stand for anything--we don't deal him any cards--he's just the
kitty that circles around with the jackpots while we annex the chips."
Doc Madison reached into his vest pocket, took out a penknife whose
handle was gold-chased, opened it, and very carefully cut the article he
had read from the paper.

"Flopper," said he, "you've heard of gold bonds, haven't you?"
The Flopper's eyes gleamed an eloquent response.
"Only you've never had any, eh?" supplied Doc Madison.
"Where'd I get 'em?" inquired the Flopper, with some bitterness.
"Right here," smiled Doc Madison, handing him the clipping. "Here's a
trainload and a bank vault full of them combined. Put it away, Flopper,
and don't lose it. Lose anything you've got first--lose your life. It's
worth a private car to you with a buffet full of fizz, and Sambo to wait
on you for the rest of your life. Get that? Don't lose it!"
The Flopper tucked the clipping into the mysterious recess of his shirt.
"Say," he said earnestly, "if you say so, Doc, it'll be here when dey
plant me."
"All right, Flopper," nodded Doc Madison. "And now let's get down to
cases. I've been able to pay my club dues lately, and there's money
enough on deck to buy the costumes and put the show on the road. I
start for Needley as soon as I can get away. When I'm ready for the
support, you three will hear from me--and in the meantime you lay low.
Nothing doing--understand? You'll get all the lime-light you want
before you're through, and it's just as well not to show up so familiar
when they throw the spot on you that even the school kids will know
the date of your birth, and the population will start in squabbling over
the choice of reserved niches for you in the Hall of Fame. See?"
The Flopper, Pale Face Harry and Helena nodded their heads with one
accord.
"Give us the whole lay, Doc," urged Pale Face Harry. "And give it to us
quick."
"Me mouth's waterin'," observed the Flopper, licking his lips again.
Helena lighted another cigarette, and swung herself back to her perch

on the head of the couch.
Doc Madison surveyed the three with mingled admiration and delight.
"The world is ours!" he murmured softly.
"Oh, hurry up and give us the rest of it," purred Helena. "We know
we're an all-star cast, all right."
"Very good," said Doc Madison--and laughed. "Well then, the order of
your stage cues will depend on circumstances and what turns up down
there, but we'll start with the Flopper now. First of all, Flopper, you've
got to have a name. What's your real name--what did they decorate you
with at the baptismal font back in the dark ages?"
The Flopper scrubbed at his very dirty chin with a very dirty thumb and
forefinger.
"I dunno," said the Flopper anxiously.
"Well, never mind," said Doc Madison reassuringly. "Maybe you are
blessed above most people--you can pick one out for yourself. What'll
it be?"
The Flopper's thumb and forefinger scratched desperately for a moment,
then his face lighted with inspiration.
"Swipe me!" said he excitedly. "I got it--Jimmy de Squirm."
Doc Madison shook his head gravely.
"No, Flopper, I'm afraid not," he said gently. "That's another weak
point in your interpretation of the rôle, that I'll come to