You Can Search Me

Excerpt: ... their good cush to send me on tour without ever dragging me before a Police Justice to swear that I'm on the level, and if ever that gold mine-- Tush! I interrupted. I saw you work, Skinski, and you're a wonder; that's good enough for my money. Yes, but you never once put a sleuth over the back trail to throw the spot light on my past life, Skinski babbled on. You're the first white man that ever took a chance with me without lashing me to the medicine ball, and I'll make good for you, all right, won't I, Dodey? You betcher sweet! she mumbled, with a mouth full of Pommery. Say! said Skinski to me, after we had ordered some breadstuff for the leading lady, you're not such a late train with the sleight-of-hand gag yourself, Mr. Manager! Oh! I'm only a piker at it, I replied, modestly. I can do a few moth-eaten tricks with the cards and I've studied out a few of the illusions, enough to know how to do them without breaking an ankle, but I'm not cute enough to be on the stage. Skinski laughed, and Dodo looked over another glass of Pommery long enough to say, You betcher sweet! Well, said Skinski, leading a bevy of French-fried potatoes up to his moustache, you'll know enough about it after I rehearse you to go on and do the show when we hit a fried-egg burg, where there's only a Mr. and Mrs. Audience to greet our earnest endeavors. Say, boys, you'll get a lot of fricasseed experience trailing with this troupe, believe me! I'm only going to be with you for a few days, I answered. Mr. Jefferson will be your permanent manager. The hell I will! spluttered Bunch. Then he got red in the face, glared at Dodo, and grouched out a beg pardon! You betcher sweet! she replied, patting the Pommery. Say, John! you know well enough I can't leave New York for more than two or three days just at this time without having a good excuse to give Alice, Bunch growled, while Skinski and the Circassian lady put the knives to the chicken...