"I git y'.--Say, Mister, go slow with this gasoline bronc' of your'n! Y'

know I'd like t' see little old Cheyenne oncet more before I check in,"--this to the chauffeur, as the taxicab shaved the flank of a street car going at high speed, then caromed to rub axles with a brother machine.

"You'll meet her," promised Johnnie, who did not think they were going too fast, and who had completely forgotten it was Sunday, which meant that Cis would be at home without fail; "'cause once before, when I burnt my hand, she stayed away from work two whole days. Big Tom never lets Grandpa be alone." (He thought that rather a neat way to bring in the old man.)

With a sidewise tipping of the big hat, One-Eye directed a searching look to the bare head at his elbow. "Other days, _you_ take care of said ole man," he returned.

Johnnie nodded. "I like him."

The silence that followed was embarra.s.sing. He knew One-Eye was watching him. But not liking to glance up, he was unable to judge of his companion's att.i.tude. So he began again, changing the subject. "Cis is awful pretty," he confided. "Once she was a May Queen in Central Park for her cla.s.s at school, only it wasn't in May, and she had all the ice cream she could eat. Mrs. Kukor made her a white dress for that time, and I made some art'ficial vi'lets for 'round her hair. Oh, she looked fine! And she saw the Prince of Wales when he was in N'York and ever since she's liked just him."

One-Eye took the cigar from his mouth. "It'd be a grand match for her,"

he conceded. His tone implied that the alliance with Royalty was by no means a remote possibility.

"A-a-a-aw!" scoffed Johnnie, flashing up at One-Eye a wise smile. "All the girls at Cis's fac'try seen him, too, and they all like him just the same as she does. But the Prince, he's got t' marry a Princess."

One-Eye agreed. "Pretty tough," he observed sympathetically, and went back to his cigar.

"So Cis'll have t' marry a movin'-picture actor," concluded Johnnie; "--or a cowboy."

At that the cigar fairly popped from One-Eye's countenance. "A cowboy!"

he cried, the green eye dancing. "W'y, that'd be better'n a Prince!"

"It would?" Johnnie considered the idea.

"Certainly would--t' _my_ way of thinkin'." In their brief acquaintance One-Eye had never before shown such interest, such animation.

"How d' you mean?"

"I mean," answered One-Eye, stoutly, "that cowboys is _n.o.ble_ fellers!"

Before Johnnie could argue the matter further, or ask any one of the thousand questions that he would have liked to get explained regarding cowboys, the driver interrupted to demand how much farther southward he was expected to go; and as Chambers Street was even then just ahead, the eastern turn was made at once, which set Johnnie off along a new line of thought--his coming ordeal.

And this ordeal was not the meeting with Big Tom, which he dreaded enough, but which he believed would not have to be endured for at least some hours; it was the having to face, in company with this rich and important acquaintance, that gang of boys who so delighted to taunt him.

Anxiously his gray eyes searched ahead of the taxicab, which was now picking its way too swiftly through streets crowded with children. This ability to invest the present with all the reality of the future, how wonderful it could be!--but how terrible! For he was suffering greatly in advance, and writhing on the leather-covered seat, and all but pulling out his yellow hair.

"Arm ache y'?" One-Eye wanted to know.

"Guess so," faltered Johnnie. Then his face turned a sickly pale, and he shouldered a bit closer to his escort. A feeling of suffocation meant that his breath had stopped. And upon his untanned forehead oozed the perspiration of dismay. Also, his cheeks mottled. For just before them were two of those boys whom he feared!--as if they had sprung from a seam in the sidewalk! They were staring at the taxicab. They were looking at Johnnie (who stole a nervous look back). Now they were following on!

Johnnie's jaw set; his teeth clenched. He steeled himself to bear public insult.

Too many children had now brought the taxicab down to a crawling gait.

Slowly it rolled on through shouting, Sunday-garbed youngsters. And fast grew the crowd which kept pace with it. But it was a silent crowd, as Johnnie's ears told him, for his chin was on his breast and his eyes were fixed upon the meter--in agony, as if he, and not One-Eye, would have to pay a charge which had already mounted high in three figures.

_Why_ was that crowd silent? And what were those boys preparing to do--two were now several--who held all things in scorn? who made even the life of the patrolman on the beat a thing to be dreaded?

The uncertainty was crushing.

"Home in a jiffy," soothed One-Eye, who felt sure the ride had been too much of a strain.

"Stop here," whispered Johnnie, catching sight, after a turn or two, of one of those entrances which gave to the area.

The taxicab stopped. In a hush that actually hurt, One-Eye rose and descended, flipping a five-dollar bill to the driver. "But don't you go," he directed. "I'll want y' t' tote me back uptown."

Johnnie rose then--feebly. Once more he held that bandaged arm to the front. His faltering eyes said that the injury was a plea--a plea for courteous treatment before this distinguished stranger. Oh, he knew he was a girlish-headed ragbag, but if they would only spare him this once!

One-Eye took his hand. "Step careful, sonny," he advised, almost tenderly. Then to those pressing round, "Back up, won't y'? Give this boy room? Don't y' see he's hurt?"

This was what so emboldened Johnnie that he decided, even as a bare foot sought the running-board of the machine, to take one good look around.

He paused, therefore, lifted his head, and let his glance deliberately sweep the crowd.

What he saw fairly took his breath; brought a flush to his sober little face, and strengthened him, body and soul--but especially spine. For before him was a staring, admiring, respectful, yes, and fascinated, even awe-struck, a.s.semblage. There were grown people in it. There were more above, to both sides, leaning out of windows. And every mouth was wide!

Was it One-Eye in his startling garb? or the professional touch to his own appearance, in the shape of that dramatic, handkerchief-slung arm?

or was it both?

No matter. Instantly reacting to this solemn reception, Johnnie managed a pale smile. "Much obliged!"--this he said gaily as his feet touched the concrete. He was experiencing such pride as had been his before only in his "thinks."

This was a moment never to be forgotten!

"Now maybe I better lead--ha?" What satisfaction there was in addressing One-Eye thus familiarly in the teeth of the enemy!

"Break trail!" said One-Eye. Then, "Gangway!" he sang out to the crowd.

Next, with a swift circular fling of an arm, he scattered a handful of small coins to right and left upon the street.

The crowd swayed, split, and scattered like the money. A path cleared.

One-Eye at his side, Johnnie stepped forward.

Now he would have liked to hang back, to loiter a bit, delaying their disappearance, and enjoying the situation. But One-Eye, ignoring every one, as if crowds bored him, was headed for the hall like a fox to its hole, taking long, impressive, s.h.a.ggy-legged strides.

Behind, the boys Johnnie had feared scrambled without shame for One-Eye's small silver. While he, the "Old clothes," the "Girl's hair,"

the mocked and despised, was walking, as man with man, beside the wonderful One-Eye before whom those same boys had not dared to utter a single slur!

His satisfaction was complete!

"Home again!" he cried, feeling ready to do a hop-skip except that it would take away from the effect they had made.

Oh, he could stand a whipping in the privacy of the flat if a whipping was waiting for him at the top of those three flights--now that this public part of the return had gone so magnificently!

CHAPTER XI

THE DISCOVERY

AND yet, after all, there was no sense in taking a strapping if it could just as well be avoided.