THE SUNDAY FICTION MAGAZINE, MAY 28, 1916.
H. PIPE!" chortled the
Bay Hoss Kid"; pointing-
across the street,
"th' 1' guy with th'
sun-e heaters! See
'im?"
My glance, following
the indicating finger,
discovered a littlo old man with a Iw-pica!
"Zim" face, partially disguised by an
enormous pair of smoked glasses. He was
standing- before Jack, Wolff's cigar store,
peering earnestly ...to the faces of the
idlers.
"Who Is he?" I nsketL. Hut the Day
Hoss was crossing the .street.
"C'me on!" he called. "Watch me round
'im."
I was newly returned to San Francisco
after an absence of years, and the P.ay
BHoss was the first one of the oldl race track
bunch I had unearthed, l'ndtr his able
guidance I was touring the downtown
district, endeavoring to reconstruct from
the enormous piles of the new city the
Tenderloin of the old.
Pay Hoss, never a mental heavy
weight, was taking a childish delight in
the time-honored pastime of "rounding"
his friends and acquaintances by one of
two simple expedients: hiding in a con
venient doorway and calling the victim by
name, or stepping up beside him and tapping-
him on the opposite shoulder. The
liKk of puzzlement or chagrin on the face
of him who "fell" was payment enough
for the merry Hoss. I must confess that
I also, possessed by the holiday spirit, be
came so enthused as to perpetrate the
same senseless joke on an occasional old
timer. Therefore, I immediately followed
my guide.
The old gentleman left the cigar stand
andrsturdily plodded up Eddy street, gaz
ing intently at the throngs of visiting
pleasure seekers. We caught up with him
in the middle of the Mock. Bay Hoss
stepped close behind him, calling, "Oh,
Casey!" in his right ear, tapping him at
the same time on the right shoulder. Hoss
then dodged swiftly to the left, intending
to pass by on that side, leaving the old
fellow gaping the other way, mystified.
Casey fooled us.' He had been "round
ed" too often. With almost incredible
speed he wheeled to the left and seized
Bay Hoss by the arm. Before that worthy
had recovered from his surprise the old
man swuing a crushing right-hander full,
to the ex-tout's ingrowing chin.
Startled, I hastened to interfere, but the
Id man, after a searching glance, shoved
the dazed joker into my arms. Snarling,
"Ar-rh! Go t' th' divil!" ho hastened
away, muttering to himself.
"Who is it? What is it?" I asked ex
citedly. "Did you- ?" But the Bay
Hoss raised a shaking hand.
"Nix!" he gasped, ambiguously, his
face gradually regaining its normal shade
of brick-red. "I'm off that gent! No more
fer little Oswald! Le's go inta th' Dutch
man's an' lick up a plate o' Bismarcks an'
a schuper. .Say, lissen! That giuy pulls a'
awful wallop fer a' oV Turk."
We found a table In the famous home
of "Dutch lunches," and were presently
served a plate each of succulent herrings
and two enormous glasses of goMen brew.
"Just who," I asked, striving to re
strain my mirth at the recollection of that
punch, ."is your friend Casey?"
"He ain't my friend," mumbled Bay
Hoss, his mouth full of herring bones.
"He b'lobgs t Niggerfoot or did, before
th' Foot cashed in."
"Niggerfoot!" I exclaimed. "Tall,
skinny young fellow nose like the Jew
Albert? Is he dead?"
"Yeah, long time ago," answered Bay
Hoss, "officing" the kidney-footed waiter
for more beer. "That's what makes it so
funny."
"It was funny to me." I admitted. "But
I didn't think you found It so."
"Oh, that! I am talJdn' about that."
Ho grinned foolishly. "You never heard
about Foot an' Casey? Well, 111 tell yuh.
d Isaac Wlieeler
Illustrated hy It. Tattdlcr.
"Niggerfoot was one o' th' ol'-timo
touts, yuh know got ruled off before your
time.,. I guess. Well, Casey, there, was th'
cause o' him gettin' set down.
"Ol' Casey had an express stand down
near th' ferry' has yet, 1 reckon an' he
used t' haul tack an' such like junk fer
th' owners around th' tracks. All this
time, though, he ain't never been on a
race track only in th' mornin's; he ain't
never seen th' bangtails go round. One
day he does some haulin' fer Kernel Dan,
or Williams, or some one connected with
th' Jockey Club, an' whoever it is gives
'iin three passes f th' races.
-r
"Gettin' somethin' fer nothin' tluit
away, h- natcherly frels like he's gotta
use it; so he declares a holiday fer hisse'f.
lie searches out 2. coupla ol' cronies o' hisn
an' tells 'em 't if they'll buy ferfy' tickets
an' drinks an' pay all overheads he'll take
'em f th' races. They fall fer it an' th'
three of 'em land in a bunch at Oakland.
"The's a few o' th' best of us hangin"
out down by th' gate Plum Puddin' Tom
my, Threesey, Nosey Dick an' th' Coffee
Kid -each wailin' fer a client he's expect
in'. We all know Casey, but none of us
figgers 'im good fer a bet, so they get by
us. Niggerfoot, standin' up by th' bettin'
ring, spots em' an' nails 'em. Casey knows
Foot by sight from seein" 'im go back an'
forth fer years, but he don't know a tout
from Barney Schreiber. If Foot tells 'im
he owns th' track, Casey ain't a-goin' f
conterdict 'Im.
"Niggerfoot dukes th' ol' man an' calls
'im Mr. Casey, swellin' 'im up t' his pals,
an' invites 'em up t' have a drink at th'
bar. After that, th' ol' Turk's just th"
same as branded; he belongs t' Foot. Foot
buys two or three rounds an' then steers
'em up f th grand stand, settin' 'em down
near th' paddock end.
"Th' first race is a half mile fer 2-year-ol's.
Burns an' Waterhouse has a trick in
it that looks like a mortal cinch she's
1 to 4 in th' bettin'. 'Course, the' ain't no
use tryin' t' lay Casey at them odds, so
Niggerfoot just tells 'em what's a-goin' f
win, fer a clincher, an' lets 'em alone till
th' startin' bell rings. When th' B. an' W.
filly romps home alone, he's in solid with
his "prospect." Casey thinks Foot's a wiz.
" "An" how did yez know what harse
was a-goin' t' win?' he asts Foot.
"'Aha!' says Foot, all mysterious.
'That's my business. That's why I'm a
millionaire because I know them things.
If everybody knowed what I know, the'd
be no bettin'; th' books'd all be out o' th"
game.'
" 'Have ye no harses of yer own that's
runnin' t'day?' Casey wants t' know.
" 'Sure, I have,' says Foot. 'I'm start
in' one in this next race.'
"'An' is it a-goin' f win?' asts th' ol'
chaw, his eyes poppin' out.
" 'He's a-goin" f win;' swears Nigger
foot. 'But I ain't bettin' on' im here. I
sent my m.oney away f be bet in th' big
eastern poolrooms. They won't let me
play my hosses at th' tracks,' he says. 'I'd
put all th bookies out o' business."
"Casey starts mournin' at that, 'cause
he can't make a bet cn a sure winner, but
Foot tells 'im t" dry up he'll fix that all
right.
" 'Give me your coin, he says, "an" I'll
send it In by my regular bettin' commis
sioner, an' no one th' wiser.'
" 'How much do Oi have t' put up t'
win money on this harse o' yourn?
" 'I dunno what th" odds '11 be yet, says
Foot, 'but say he's 10 t I: Yuh put up
a hundred dollars, an yuh get back 'leven
hundred; that is if he wins,' an' he winks
at Casey.
" 'An' if Oi put up a thousan' darlers,
what do Oi get?'
-It you put up a thousan' bucks I
don't know what you'll get,' answers th'
Foot, 'but I'll get heart failure. Cme on,
Casey, quit kiddin' an' give me your coin.'
" 'Well, in that case, Oi'll save ye th'
doctor bill,' says Casey. 'Here's tin bones.
It's all Oi'll chance, so be off.'
"Niggerfoot argues, but it ain't no use.
Casey's stubborn, an' a little sore with th'
kiddin', so finally Foot blows down with
th' ten seeds. O' course, if th' ol' ginny
makes a good bet. Foot's a-goin' t' try t'
pick a winner fer 'im an' declare hisse'f
in with th' winnin's; b,ut with a lousy lit
tle ol' ten-spot the' ain't no chance 'spe
cially as th favorite's even money. Foo
never could see anythin" but th' favorite
in a hoss race, nohow.
"11c knows Casey won't make, another
bet if he loses th' ten, an' chances is he'll
pocket th' twenty if he wins an' give Foot
tli hoot if he asts fer a split. He ain't a
rr'in' t' waste no time on a tight ol" chaw
fer nothin", so he bets th' ten on th' favor
ite fer hisse'f an' writes a phony ticket
fer Casey.
"How does he do that? Why, yuh poor
boob, ain't yuh wise t' that ol"grift? An
you mix in' in with th' push fer years.
Why. that stuff's older'n Chalk P.oberts.
Looky!
"Yuh take a losin' ticket on some past
race any tout on th' track's got them a
plenty an' rub out th' figgers an' name o'
th' hoss it's wrote on original, an' there
yuh got a blank ticket just th' same as
they use in th' books; name o' th' book an'
number of th' ticket an' everythin". Then
yuh pick out th' mutt yuh think Is suro
to lose an' fill in your bl-ink with th
amount o' th' bet, th' amount o' th' odds
against it, an' th initials o' th' hoss. O'
course, that ticket won't tally with th'
sheet on that race, 'but w-hat sucker's a
goin' t' go buskin' around after th' hoss
loses t' see whether he really loses his coin
or whether th' tout sticks it in his kick?
If he's that wise, he ain't a-goin' t' let no
one bet his kale but hisse'f. If he wins?
h, well, th's a lot o' different things yuh
can do. Wait an' hear what Foot does
with Casey, an' yuh won't have t' ast so
many questions.
"Well, as I was sayin', Niggerfoot picks
out an ol' skate that ain't win a race since
Bill Donothan was a' exercise boy, an'
writes a phony callin' fer 100 t' 10. He
takes it up t' Casey, an' when th' hosses
parades past th' stand h points out th'
hoss an' sets back, waitin' fer th' favorite
t' tin-can home with his little ol' ten
plunks rootin' fer 'im. Sure, th' owners'
names was on th' programs; but what'd
that ol" pelican know about them? If
some one slipped 'im one he'd think it was
a bill o' fare.
"The's n' awful bunch o hay hounds
lined up fer that seven furlong sprint, an'
Dwyer's a long time gettin' 'em off. Final
ly he springs th' barrier on th' bummest
start xf th' meetin', with th' ol' crab Foot
writes th 'ticket on beatin' tn gate ten
len'ths, an' th' favorite left at th' pst.
Th' badge hoss must a been all hopped up
that day, fer he don't curl up at th' pad
dock like he Visually does, but keeps pelt
In' along an" staggers under th' wire a
winner by a' eyelash.
"Casey an' his friends are bust in' their
lungs an' doing "a war dance.
f
"Niggerfoot stalls Casey that his com
missioner has V cash th' ticket, so th'
three tads stays in th' stand, an' he beats
it fer th' bettij' ring. O' course, he can't
pay that bet, even if he wrnts t'. The'
ain't no out but t' write another phony
on a dead one in th' next race, calling fer
th' full amount, an' take chances o' Casey
bustin' im one in th' beezer fer makin'
another bet. He sticks around down in
th ring till post time, an' then frames his
ticket.
"Th' third race o th' day is a mile an' a'
eighth. The' a five starters, an' th' rank
outsider's posted at 20 t' 1 on th" black
boards. Foot don't think it's possible fer
two long shots f cop in succession, so he
writes his ticket on that one, callin" fer
twenty-two hundred t' a hundred an te
Then he breezes back inta th' stand
square it with Casey.
in two nenenmen near throw
when l-oot flashes th' ducat; Casey nail
'im an' grunts:
" 'Th' harse better win!'
"T" show yuh th" luck Niggerfoot plaj
in, th's a form upset in that race that send
one owner up f th' judges f alibi hlssel
Th outsider rolls home with his e&l
pricked up, ahead o' th" favorite. Foot h.
t' help th" jock ride th' hoss, fer th' lool
o things, but us guys on th' lawn knov
his heart ain't in them yells. "We know
never bet on no 20 t' 1 shot in his life, a
th' whole race track's wise that sometnil
gone wrong; that is, nil. hut th' judgj
They hears Foot's 'Come on with '1)1
boy!' an' figgerin' he has somethin.'
with that awful form somersault, ordel
'im tailed. They do 'im wrong! Ha rath
see that hoss drop dead than win.
1A ba,.'. V . 1 . I . . ' 1:1. , M I
"'Me bhoy," he says, 'Oi thrust yey nf
belave ye know what ye're doin, but
more fer me! Don't ye bet anither
Do ye cash that ticket an' bring th mosj
straight back f me. Oi cudn't stand al
ither wan; th' suspinse wud kill nl
Moind, now, no more!'
"But th am t nothing to it! Font's
too far f do anythin' but write anotlJ
fink; an' he's Just got f pick a loser til
time. O' course, he can make a lam Jf
wants f; but if he does, ol' Casey's boei
t' make a roar yuh could hear In San ftl
an' Foot'll be warned away front ,
tracks, at least. That's where he
his livln", an" he'll stick it out if he
Then again, on th' other hand, It's almost
cinch th" micks"ll holler an" half kill W
boot. The' ain't much choice, bat Fa
decides t' take another chance an'
that ol Casey's got enough sportin' bl
in 'm f make 'im swaller his loss like
genelmun. He's gamblln', too, that IM
have a chance f make a getaway vu
th' chums is interested in th' race.
ain't trustin" his own judgment no mtj
though. w
"'I'm poison!" he tells Plum Pudtll
Tommy. 'I can't pick a loser t'day. jH
I go an parlay a phony broad on.th1
two winners fer that ol' human hy.e
an' I ain't even got th' tenner he slips
t start with. I know you ain't picked
-winner since th' meetin started, so fer
love o' Pete, Pud, tell me what yuh like
this next race, an' I'll give 'im a paper!
that!'
a in niue coenney tnat a gti
copper pinches that time fer smuggjl
alter ne bears im kiddin' a coupla 8w
Tommy tells th square-heads he's go I
big stone ship, layin' in th' offln', wltfl
hold full o English plum puddin's, ax
bullin' 'em f meet 'im at midnight
help 'im smuggle th' puddin's ashore.
bobby steps in an' pinches th' three o 'J
an' th' next day th' papers has a big iad
over it. That's how Tommy gets his ml
iker. Th jondarm? Oh, they make,
chief o' police a few years back."
Bay Hoss paused to borrow my "in I
ins and roll himself a "pill." Thenl
continued:
Ow much does th' bleedin sue I
think 'e's got comin'?' asts Pudding
" Twenty-three hundred an' ten bor
wails Foot, keepin' a' eye out fer 'da!
or th' Pinks.' - -f t I
" 'Well, tyke another chawnce,' oil
Tommy, grinnin". "Put "Im on that brd
trick o' Baldwin's; 'e cawn't win.'
"Th Puddin' beats it f hep up th'
o tn Duncn so s we can see th '. flu
Baldwin's hoss is around 50 t' 1, an' I
thinks that hunch's good as any, so
Mips out f th' paddock f frame his tie!
Out there he meets up with Sam Sit
wether, that's startin' hls.ol' hoss, dJ
raux, in this race.
"Sam is one o them hard luck wh
He's had some pretty fair platers In
time, an' has packed a few 'grand' on
hip a dozen times; but somehow, thi
won't break- right fer 'im very long'