o make a record, but that never does. Bright lookin' boy, neat
dresser, and all that, but never stickin' to one thing long enough to
make good. You've seen 'em.

"Hello, Snick!" says I, as he levels the single barrel on me. "I see
you've pulled down the shade again. What's happened to that memorial
window of yours this time?"

"Same old thing," says he. "It's in at Simpson's for five, and a
bookie's got the five."

"And now you want to negotiate a second mortgage, eh?" says I.

That was the case. He tells me his newest job is handlin' the josh
horn on the front end of one of these Rube waggons, and just because
the folks from Keokuk and Painted Post said that lookin' at the patch
took their minds off seein' the skyscrapers, the boss told him he'd
have to chuck it or get the run.

"He wouldn't come across with a five in advance, either," says Snick.
"How's that for the granite heart?"

"It's like other tales of woe I've heard you tell," says I, "and
generally they could be traced to your backin' three kings, or gettin'
an inside tip on some beanery skate."

"That's right," says he, "but never again. I've quit the sportin' life
for good. Just the same, if I don't show up on the waggon for the
'leven o'clock trip I'll be turned loose. If you don't believe it
Shorty, I'll----"

"Ah, don't go callin' any notary publics," says I. "Here's the V to
take up that ticket. But say, Snick; how many times do I have to buy
out that eye before I get an equity in it?"

"It's yours now; honest, it is," says he. "If you say so, I'll write
out a bill of sale."

"No," says I, "your word goes. Do you pass it?"

He said he did.

"Thanks," says I. "I always have thought that was a fine eye, and I'm
proud to own it. So long, Snick."

There's one good thing about Snick Butters; after he's made his touch
he knows enough to fade; don't hang around and rub it in, or give you a
chance to wish you hadn't been so easy. It's touch and go with him,
and before I'd got out the last of my remarks he was on his way.

It wa'n't more'n half josh, though, that I was givin' him about that
phony pane of his. It was a work of art, one of the bright blue kind.
As a general thing you can always spot a bought eye as far as you can
see it, they're so set and stary. But Snick got his when he was young
and, bein' a cute kid, he had learned how to use it so well that most
folks never knew the difference. He could do about everything