The Wit and Humor of America, Volume VII | Page 4

and a couple of his side-partners.
They won't say anything, for the superintendent fixed them."
* * * * *
Mr. Carrington secured his college degree a year after his class. The
delay resulted from an occurrence which he never admitted deserved a
year's rustication. By mere chance he had learned the date of the
birthday of one of the least known and least important instructors, and
decided that it would be well to celebrate it. So he made the
acquaintance of the instructor and invited him to a birthday dinner. A
large and exultant company were the instructor's fellow guests at the St.
Dunstan, and there was jollity that seemed out of drawing with the
dominant lines of the guest of honor; yet the scope of the celebration
was extended until it included the burning of much red fire and
explosion of many noisy bombs at a late hour, as the instructor was
making a speech of thanks in the yard, surrounded by the dinner guests,
heartily encouraging him. It seemed that upon the manner in which the
affair was to be presented to the Faculty depended the dismissal of the
instructor or the rustication of Mr. Carrington; and the latter managed
to present the case so as to save the instructor. If he had foreseen all the
consequences of taking all the blame for an occurrence promptly
distorted in report into the aspect of a riotous carousal, perhaps Mr.
Carrington would not have sacrificed himself for a neutral personality
which had so recently swum into his ken. One consequence was a letter

from Mr. Draper Curtis, of New York, commanding Mr. Carrington to
cease correspondence with Miss Caroline Curtis; and a note from
Caroline, in which a calmer man than a distracted lover would have
seen signs of parental censorship, wherein that young lady said that she
had read her father's letter and added her commands to his. She had
heard from many sources, as had numerous indignant relatives and
friends, the particulars of the shocking affair which had compelled the
Faculty to discipline Mr. Carrington; and she could but agree with her
family that her happiness would rest upon insecure ground if trusted to
the inciter and principal offender in such a terrible transaction. He was
to forget her at once, as she would try to forget him.
Caroline and her mamma sailed for Europe the next day, and several
letters Carrington wrote to her, giving a less censurable version of the
little dinner to the little instructor, were returned to him unopened.
After receiving his delayed degree Carrington began a tour around the
world. In the court of the Palace Hotel, the day of his departure from
San Francisco, a commonplace-looking man stepped up to him briskly,
and said, placing a hand on his shoulder: "Presidio, you've got a nerve
to come back here. You, to the ferry; or with me to the captain!"
Carrington turned his full face toward the man for the first time as he
brushed aside the hand with some force. The man reddened, blinked,
and then stammered: "Excuse me, but you did look so--Say, you must
excuse me, for I see that you are a gentleman."
"Isn't Presidio a gentleman?" Carrington asked, good-naturedly, when
he saw that the man's confusion was genuine.
"Why, Presidio is--do you mind sitting down at one of these tables? I
feel a little shaky--making such a break!"
He explained that he was the hotel's detective, and had been on the
city's police force. In both places he had dealings with a confidence
man, called Presidio--after the part of the city he came from. Presidio
was an odd lot; had enough skill in several occupations to earn honest
wages, but seemed unable to forego the pleasure of exercising his wit in

confidence games and sneak-thievery. Among his honest
accomplishments was the ability to perform sleight-of-hand tricks well
enough to work profitably in the lesser theater circuits. He had married
a woman who made part of the show Presidio operated for a time--a
good-looking woman, but as ready to turn a confidence trick as to help
her husband's stage work, or do a song and dance as an interlude. They
had been warned to leave San Francisco for a year, and not to return
then, unless bringing proof that they had walked in moral paths during
their exile.
"And you mistook me for Presidio?" asked Carrington, with the manner
of one flattered.
"For a second, and seeing only your side face. Of course, I saw my
mistake when you turned and spoke to me. Presidio is considered the
best-looking crook we've ever had."
"Now, that's nice! Where did you say he's gone?"
"I don't know."
Carrington found that out for himself. He first interrupted his voyage
by a stop of