United States or Vanuatu ? Vote for the TOP Country of the Week !
Through the car in the rear of the one he had occupied, the regular parlor car, the Flopper, a piteous spectacle, made his way chairs turned, the occupants craned their necks after the deformed and broken creature, while smothered exclamations and little cries of sympathy from the women followed him along. The Flopper's eyes never lifted from the strip of carpet before him, but his lips moved.
Men cried aloud again and again a woman fainted, another here, another there children wailed and ran, some shrieking, some whimpering, for the woods. Again the spasm crossed the Flopper's face, a shuddering, muscular contortion and from the shoulder rose his head.
The Flopper looked down his nose. "I dunno," said he. Madison stared at him for a moment then he reached out and caught the Flopper's arm in a sudden and far from gentle grip. "Out with it!" he snapped. "I dunno where she is," said the Flopper, with some reluctance. "She ain't back yet, dat's all." "Back from where?" Madison's grip tightened. The Flopper blinked.
"Go on," prompted Pale Face Harry. "Go on, Flopper tell us about it." "I told you, ain't I?" growled the Flopper. "De driver called a divvy wid de cop comin', an I had ter shell an' wot he left de cop pinched. Dat's all" the Flopper's mouth was working again with the rage that burned within him.
Her dark eyes played questioningly upon him and he could see that they were wet with tears, and that the face from out of which they looked was very white. "Why have you come back here to-night?" she asked in a low tone; and then, suddenly, a fear, a terror in her voice, as the Flopper's warning flashed upon her: "Thornton you have seen Thornton?"
"An' den it's all off wid me an' Mamie" the Flopper's face grew hard. "Nix on dat! Dat don't go!" "We cannot do that, Harry," said Helena, in a tired voice. "There is the Patriarch." "Yes," said Madison, beginning his stride up and down the room again. "After all, whether we could give back the money without being caught, or whether we couldn't, is not the vital thing; there is the Patriarch."
The boy's face was strained and eager, full of mingled emotions pride in the leading part he played, wonder and expectancy. "Come on, mister, come on!" he kept saying, impatiently accommodating his own restricted pace to the Flopper's still slower one. Through the wagon track, through the woods beneath the trees, the dead, slow, shuffling tread went on and now even the murmuring sound was hushed.
His gray eyes travelled from one to another, lingered an instant on Helena, and came back to the Flopper. "What's the trouble?" he demanded quietly. It was Pale Face Harry who answered him. "The Flopper's got it in for a couple of ginks that handed him one a bull and a chauffeur on a gape-wagon," he grinned, punctuating his words with a cough.
And nearer had drawn little Holmes, his head thrust forward, shaking as with the ague as he gazed on the group before him, oblivious to all else around him. A twinge of frightful torture swept the Flopper's face and with that same slow, awful deliberation the misshapen arm straightened out.
And now, there's just one thing more you'll need some one around here to help you and keep an eye on the offerings when they begin to come in. Well, that's the Flopper's rôle in the second act see? Overwhelmed with gratitude at his cure, he attaches himself to the Patriarch with dog-like fidelity beautiful thought! get the idea? And " "Hush!" cautioned Helena. "Here's Mr. Higgins coming."
Word Of The Day