he left the avenue, turning east. now all plans concerning broadway were given up; also, he felt no anxiety about getting lost. for he went at random.
yet he was businesslike, and walked rapidly. no window, however beautiful, lured him to pause. he did not waste a single minute. and soon he was gazing up at a really imposing and colossal structure which, big as it looked (for it seemed to occupy a whole block), was plainly not in use. at one corner the building mounted to a peak. on going all the way around it, he discovered smaller peaks at each of the other corners. there were any number of entrances, too; and, of course, fire escapes.
it suited him finely. on one side of this old palace—for he was sure it could be nothing short of a palace—was a flight of steps which led up to a small door. this entrance was an inconspicuous one, which could not be said of the several porticoed entrances. beside the steps, in the angle made by the meeting of the wall with them, was conveniently set a small, pine box. johnnie had hunted a vacant building with the intention of entering it. but now he decided to read first, and steal into the palace later, under cover of the dark. down he sat upon the box, out of the way of a breeze that was wafting a trifle too freshly through the street.
one by one he took out the three books he had just[80] bought, this in order to give them a closer scrutiny than the store had afforded him; and to start with he met that "glorious company, the flower of men," who made up the table round, and who, if the colored pictures of them were to be believed, made his mounted policeman of an hour before seem a sorry figure. and their names were as splendid as their photographs—launcelot, and gawain, gareth and tristram and galahad. remembering that he was called johnnie, he felt quite sick.
when, after poring over the half-dozen illustrations, he was forced to the conclusion that nothing could surpass the knights of king arthur, he opened the last of the mohicans and found himself captured, heart and soul, by the even more enticing uncas and his fellows, superb bronze creatures, painted and feathered, and waving tomahawks that far outshone any blunt lance.
he had to change his mind again. for bringing himself to tuck away his indians and fetch forth treasure island, he was rewarded by the sight of a piratical crew who easily surpassed even the redmen. the fiercest of these pirates, a gentleman by the name of long john silver, was without question the pick of the lot. to begin with, mr. silver undoubtedly belonged to the new york family of peg legs, which, of course, brought him nearer than his brother pirates. however, what especially recommended him was a pistol-filled belt.
"gee! i'm glad i got mine!" johnnie declared, since the chief-pirate's belt was strikingly like the one binding in big tom's cast-off clothes; and he willingly forgot what the strap of leather had done to him in the past in realizing its wonderful possibilities for the future.
finally he was ready to begin reading. he was loyal to his friend aladdin then, whom he had left, on the fatal stroke of twelve, in rather dire straits. the oriental wonder book on his knees, he resumed the enthralling story,[81] his lips and fingers moving, and—in the excitement of it all—his misty eyebrows twisting like two caterpillars.
pedestrians hurried past him, motor vehicles and surface-cars sped by—for fourth avenue lay in front; but what he saw was aladdin in chains; aladdin before the executioner; aladdin pardoned, yet aghast over the loss of his palace and the beloved buddir al buddoor, and ready to take his own life.
the afternoon went swiftly. evening came. but the nearest street lamp was lighted in advance of the dark. engrossed by the awful drama transpiring in africa, where aladdin and his princess were plotting to rid themselves of the magician, johnnie did not know when lamplight took the place of daylight.
the princess, who began to be tired with this impertinent declaration of the african magician, interrupted him and said, "let us drink first, and then say what you will afterwards;" at the same time she set the cup to her lips, while the african magician, who was eager to get his wine off first, drank up the very last drop. in finishing it, he had reclined his head back to show his eagerness, and remained some time in that state. the princess kept the cup at her lips, till she saw his eyes turn in his head——
"hurrah!" cried johnnie, relieved at this fortunate end of the crisis, for his very hair was damp with anxiety. "his eyes've turned in his head!"
"wal, by the great horn spoon!"
this strange exclamation, drawled in a nasal tone, came from the steps at his back. he started up, jerking sidewise to get out of reach of the hands that belonged to the voice, and clutching his book to him. but as he faced the speaker, who was peering down at him from the top of the steps, wonder took the place of apprehension.
for to his astonished and enraptured gaze was vouchsafed a most interesting man—a man far and beyond and[82] above anybody he had ever before beheld in the flesh. this person was tall and slender, and wore a blue shirt, a plaid vest hanging open but kept together with a leather watchchain, a wide, high, gray hat, and—most wonderful of all—a pair of breeches which, all down the front, were as hairy as any dog!
it was the breeches that gave the stranger his startling and admirable appearance—the breeches and his face. for directly under the hat, which was worn askew, was one round, greenish eye, set at the upper end of a nose that was like a triangle of leather. the eye held the geographical center of the whole countenance, this because its owner kept his head tipped, precisely as if he had a stiff neck. under the leathery nose, which seemed to have been cut from the same welt as the watchchain, was a drooping, palish mustache, hiding a mouth that had lost too many teeth. as for the other eye, it was brushed aside under the band of the hat.
"gee!" breathed johnnie. wearing fur trousers instead of a fur collar, here, without doubt, was a new kind of millionaire!
the latter took a cigar out of an upper vest pocket and worried one end of it with a tooth. "it's half-pas' seven, sonny," he said.
johnnie backed another step. half-past seven gave him a swift vision of the flat—grandpa asleep, barber pacing the splintery floor in a rage, cis weeping at the window, mrs. kukor waddling about, talking with tongue and hands. he had no mind to be made a part of that picture. he resolved to answer no questions, while with a dexterous movement he slipped aladdin into his shirt and got ready to run.
the other now sat down, scratched a match nonchalantly on a step, and let the light shine into that single green eye as he set an end of the cigar afire; after which[83] he proceeded to blow smoke through his nose in a masterly fashion, following up that feat with a series of perfect smoke rings.
still on his guard, johnnie studied the smoker. the big gray hat came to a peak—like the highest corner of the empty palace. below the hairy trousers the lower parts of a pair of black boots shone so brightly that they carried reflections even at that late hour. the boots were tapered off by spurs.
what was there about this man that made him seem somehow familiar? johnnie puzzled over it. and decided at last, correctly enough, as it turned out, that the explanation lay in those shaggy trousers.
he was not afraid to make an inquiry. "mister," he began politely, "where did y' buy your pants?"
the effect of this question was startling. the man pushed back his hat, threw up his head, rescued the burning cigar, then emitted an almost catlike yowl. for some minutes several people had been watching him from a respectful distance. now, hearing the yowl, these onlookers drew near. he rose then, instantly sober, set the hat forward, descended the steps, and held out a friendly left hand to johnnie.
"come on, sonny," he coaxed. "ain't it eatin' time? let's go and pur-chase some grub."
johnnie, for all that he had been practically a recluse these past several years, had, nevertheless, the metropolite's inborn indifference to the passerby. he had scarcely noticed the steadily increasing group before the steps. now he ignored them all. he was hungry. that invitation to partake of food was welcome.
he advanced and held out a hand. the one-eyed man grasped it, descended the last step or two, pushed his way through the crowd without looking to right or left, and led johnnie down the street at such a pace that the bare[84] feet were put to the trot—which was not too fast, seeing that supper lay somewhere ahead.
johnnie felt proud and flattered. he made up his mind to be seen talking to his tall companion as they fared along. "guess you're not a longshoreman," he said, to begin the conversation.
"me?" drawled the other; then, mysteriously, "wal, sonny, i'll tell y': if i am, i ain't never yet found it out!"
then silence for half a block. johnnie studied his next remark. the direct way was the most natural to him. he tried another query. "and—and what do y' do?" he asked.
"do?"—this stranger seemed to have grandpa's habit of repeating the last word. "oh, i val-lay a hoss."
johnnie was no wiser than before, but he felt it good manners to appear enlightened. "you—you do that back there?" he ventured next.
"yeppie. in the garden."
now johnnie was hopelessly lost. val-lay meant nothing, hoss even less; as for a garden, he vaguely understood what that was: a place where beans grew, and potatoes; yes, and wizen-faced prunes. but though he had circled about the neighborhood considerably since leaving the bookstore, he had caught no glimpse of any garden—except that one belonging to aladdin. ah, that was it! this strange man's garden was down a flight of steps!
"do you grow cabbages in your garden?" he asked, "or—or diamonds?"
"how's that?" demanded the other; then as if he had recovered from a momentary surprise, "oh, a little of both."
"both!"
"but—but this ain't what you'd call a good year for diamonds. nope. too many cutworms."
johnnie wanted to ask if all gardeners wore hairy[85] trousers. then thought of a subject even more interesting. "mister,"—he put a note of genuine sympathy into his voice—"how'd you come t' lose your eye?"
"my eye?"—grandpa's habit again. "wal, this is how"— he frowned with the eye he had left, and pursed his lips till his mustache stood out fearsomely.
"yes?" encouraged johnnie, whose mind was picturing all sorts of exciting events in which the tall man, as the hero, fought and was injured, yet conquered his enemies.
"sonny," the other went on sadly, "i jes' natu'lly got my eye pinched in the door."
pinched in the door! johnnie stared. pinched in the door? how could that happen? what might a man be doing that such an accident should come to pass? he put his free hand to one of his own eyes, fingering it inquiringly.
before he could come to any conclusion, the one-eyed man had halted before the blazing, glassed-in front of a restaurant that fairly dazzled the sight. it was, as johnnie saw, such a place as only millionaires could afford to frequent. in the very front of it, behind that plate window, stood men in white, wearing spotless caps, who were cooking things in plain view of the street. and inside—for the one-eyed man now boldly opened a door and entered, drawing johnnie after him—were more men in white, and women similarly garbed. the high walls of the great room were white too, like the hall of a sultan's palace. and seated at long tables were splendidly attired men and women, enjoying their supper as calmly as if all this magnificence were nothing to them—nothing, though the tables were of marble!
however, every man and woman in the wonderful place showed marked excitement on the appearance of johnnie and his escort. they stopped eating. and how they stared! they bent to all sides, whispering. for a mo[86]ment, johnnie felt sure that, ragged as he was, the palace did not want him, and that he was about to be ordered out. he hung back, wishing with all his heart that he had done his hanging back earlier, outside the door, for instance.
then, relief; for he recognized that all the interest was kindly. one of the ladies in white—a beautiful, stately person—showed them grandly to chairs at either side of a table; a second lady brought them each a glass of ice water, and condescended to listen to their wants in the supper line. about them people smiled cordially.
the one-eyed man was now bareheaded. and johnnie, just as he was leaning back, prepared to enjoy himself to the full, suddenly noted, and with a pang, that his host, shorn of his headgear, was far less attractive in appearance than when covered; did not seem the strange, rakish, picturesque, almost wild figure of a moment before, but civilized, slick, and mild.
for one thing, that shut eye was in full view, which subtracted from the brigandish look of his countenance; for another, the shaggy trousers were—naturally—in total eclipse. then he had mouse-colored hair which matched his mustache, whereas it should have been black—or bright red. to make matters worse, the hair had recently been wet-combed. it was also fine and thin, especially over the top of the head, from where it had been brought straight down upon the forehead in a long, smooth, shining bang which (and this not a quarter-inch too soon) turned to sweep left. contrasting with the oily appearance of the bang were some hairs at the very crown of the head. these—a few—leaned this way and that, making a wild tuft.
johnnie wished with his whole heart that the stranger would again put on his hat.
another feature thrust itself upon johnnie's notice.[87] out from the front of his host's throat, to the ruination of such scant good looks as he had, protruded an adam's apple that was as large and tanned and tough-looking as his nose. on that brown prominence a number of long pale hairs had their roots. these traveled now high, now low, as the one-eyed man drank deep of the ice water. and johnnie felt that he understood the sad quiet of this queer, tall person. in his case the stork had been indeed cruel.
the hat was swinging from a near-by hook—one of a double line of hooks down the long room. under the hat was a sign. johnnie read it; then centered his stare on the hat. at any moment he expected to witness something extraordinary. that was because across the placard, in neat, black letters, were the words: watch your hat and coat.
he reached to touch the one-eyed man. "say, mister!" he whispered, "y' see what it says? well, what'll happen if we watch?"
"huh!" ejaculated the other, slewing that one green eye round to glance upward. "that's jes' it! if y' watch, nuthin'll happen!"
it was a good thing to know at the moment. for the second lady was back, bringing supper with her—a smoking dish of mingled meat and vegetables, another of pork and beans, a cup of coffee, a glass of milk, an orange, and bread and butter.
butter! johnnie could scarcely believe his eyes. he almost thought this was one of buckle's meals, and that the butter would melt, figuratively speaking, before his longing look. but it stayed, a bright pat, as yellow as his own hair, on a doll's dish of a plate. and as johnnie had not tasted butter for a very long time, he proceeded now, after the manner of the male, to clear that cunning little dish by eating the choicest thing first.[88]
as for the one-eyed man, his knife, held in his left hand, was going up and down between the dish of beans and his mouth with mechanical regularity. at the bean dish, he covered the long blade with a ruddy heap. then balancing it all nicely, he swung it ceiling-ward, met it half-way by a quick duck of the mouse-covered head, and swept it clean with a dextrous, all-enveloping movement.
johnnie was hungry too. the butter gone, along with its complement of bread, he attacked his share of the meat and vegetables, using, however (which was to cis's credit), a fork. the dish was delicious. he forgot even the placard.
so far the one-eyed man had proven to be anything but a talkative person. under the circumstances this was just as well. johnnie could not have shared just then in a conservation. twice during the meal he reached down and let out the strap a hole or two. and for the first time in his life he was grateful for the roominess of barber's old clothes.
half an hour, and johnnie was, as he himself expressed it, "stuffed like a sausage." the orange, he dropped into his shirt-band to find a place with the books, there being no space for it internally.
"full up, eh?" demanded the one-eyed man, mopping at his mustache so hard with a paper napkin that johnnie expected to see the hairy growth come away from its moorings under the leathery nose.
"it was a feast!" pronounced johnnie, borrowing from the language of his friend aladdin. a moment later he gasped as he saw his host carelessly ring a fifty-cent piece upon the gorgeous marble of the table top. then the meal had cost so much as that! as he trotted doorward in the wake of the spurred heels, his boy's conscience faintly smote him. he almost felt that he had eaten too much.[89]
"my goodness!" he murmured, his glance missing the variegated mosaic of the floor.
but still another moment, and the one-eyed man had halted at a desk which stood close to the front door, and was throwing down a one-dollar bill, together with some silver.
johnnie knew something was wrong. his host was forgetful, absent-minded. he realized that he must interfere. "you jus' paid the lady!" he warned in a hasty whisper.
the other nodded sadly as he settled the big hat. "yeppie," he returned. "but y' see, sonny, it's this-away: if you got jes' one eye, w'y, they make y' pay twicet!"
another gasp. it was so grossly unfair!
however it had all proved to him beyond a doubt that here was a man of unlimited wealth. on several occasions uncle albert's millionaire had treated johnnie to candy and apples. but now the riches of that person seemed pitifully trivial.
they fared forth and away in the same order as they had come.
but not so silently. food, it seemed, was what could rouse the one-eyed man to continued speech. he began to ask questions, all of them to the point, most of them embarrassing.
"say, what in the name o' sam hill y' got cached inside that shirt?"—this was the first one.
"books," returned johnnie, promptly, "and the orange."
"y' kinda cotton t' books, eh?" the other next observed.
"not cotton," replied johnnie, politely. "they're made of paper."
"y' don't tell me?—and what y' want me t' call y'?"
"my—my—my," began johnnie, trying to think and speak at the same time, with small success in either di[90]rection. then feeling himself pressed for time, and helpless, he fell back upon the best course, which was the simple truth. "my name's johnnie smith," he added.
the truth was too simple to be believed, "aw, git out!" laughed the one-eyed man, with a comical lift of the mustache. "and i s'pose y' live with the vanderbilt fambly, eh?"
johnnie's eyes sparkled. there was in the question a certain something—an ignoring of bare facts—which made him believe that this man and he were kindred souls.
"no, i don't live with 'em," he hastened to say. "but i talk to mister vanderbilt ev'ry day on the tel'phone."
the stranger seemed neither doubtful nor amazed. johnnie liked him better and better. taking a fresh hold of the other's horny hand, he chattered on: "i talked to mister astor yesterday. he asked me t' go ridin' with him, but i had t' take a trip t' niagarry."
"hope y' didn't hurt his feelin's none,"—the tone was grave: that one green eye looked anxious.
johnnie only shook his head. he did not care to go further with the discussion of the astor-smith friendship.
however, the one-eyed man himself turned the conversation, "goin' back home t'night?" he wanted to know.
johnnie raised startled eyes. "n-n-no," he returned. "i-i-if i was to, i'd have to take a terrible lickin'."
"mm." the one-eyed man seemed to understand; then, presently, "your paw?—or your maw?"
"no relation at all," protested johnnie. "just the man where i live."
"he feeds y' o. k.," put in the other. "i was noticin' back yonder in the chuck-house how plump y' are."
johnnie said nothing. there were things he could tell, if he wanted to, which had to do with comparisons between aunt sophie's table and big tom's. but these things[91] would contradict the one-eyed man; and johnnie knew from experience that grown-ups do not like to be contradicted.
just ahead was that great palace, lifting dark towers against the glowing night sky. if the one-eyed man lived there, if the palace actually contained a garden (and it seemed large enough to contain any number of gardens), johnnie wanted, if possible, to spend some time under that vast roof. so it was wise not to say anything that might bring him into disfavor; especially when what he wanted most now was shelter and a reading light.
he grasped the other's hand firmly and flashed up what was intended for a beguiling smile. "he don't ever feed me like you do," he declared, with dazzling diplomacy.
the compliment was grandly passed over. "but he shore dresses y' tiptop!" was the next assertion.
at that, some inkling of the other's real meaning came to johnnie. he tried, but in vain, to catch that single eye. but even in the half light it was busy taking in every detail of big tom's shirt and trousers. "y'—y' think so?" johnnie ventured, ready to laugh.
"think so!" cried the one-eyed man, spiritedly. "w'y, he must jes' about go broke at it! lookee! twicet as much shirt as y' need, and at least five times as much pants!"
certainly there was no denying the statement. however, there was another side to barber's generosity that johnnie longed to discuss. yet once more he decided to invite no argument. "it'll be worse if i had t' wear girl's clothes," was what he returned, philosophically.
the street was dark just there. he was not able to mark the facial expression which now accompanied a curious sound from the region of the adam's apple. but when the light at the palace corner was reached, a quick glance showed a stern visage, with mouth set hard and[92] that green eye burning. and johnnie's heart went out of him, for now he doubted again.
they paused at the foot of those steps. "do y' go t' school?" asked the one-eyed man.
johnnie shook his head. "he don't let me," he declared. but he was as careful as ever to speak with no bitterness. without question, in this tall stranger big tom had an ally.
"he don't let y'," drawled the other. "don't let y' go t' school. hm!—say, y' know, i think i'd like that feller!"
he must get away! suddenly throwing all the weight of himself and his books into the effort, johnnie tried to pull free of his companion, using both hands.
the one-eyed man held on. his grasp was like steel—yes, even like big tom's grasp. "aw, sonny!" he cried, as if suddenly repentant. then seizing johnnie under both arms, he swung him to the top of those steps.
that same moment wide doors opened before them, and a vast, dim place was disclosed to the boy's astonished view. "why—! what—! oh—!" he marveled.
the one-eyed man shut the doors by retreating and giving them a push with his back. then he thrust johnnie toward a second flight of steps. these led down to a basement only partly lighted, full of voices, tramplings, and strange smells. frightened, johnnie made out the upraised heads of horses—lines of them! he could see a group of men too, each as big-hatted and shaggy-trousered as this one who still had him about his middle.
a great cry went up from that group—"yip! yip! yip! yip! yee-e-e-e-eow! one-eye!"
"oh, mister," breathed johnnie, "is it the circus?"[93]
