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Page 19
"This darned pigeon is wood," said he. "They are all wood, all I have
shot. This is a put-up job! It ain't fair." He turned to the young
fellow who had taken the pigeons, and who acted as referee.
"See here, John," he said, "you ain't going to see me done this way, be
you? You know it ain't a fair deal. Albert Dodd's shot clay pigeons, and
I've shot wood. It ain't fair."
"No, it ain't fair," admitted the young fellow reluctantly, with a side
glance at Doctor Gordon. Gordon made a movement, but Georgie K. was
ahead of him. James saw a roll of bills pass from his hands to Jim
Goodman's. Gordon came up to Georgie K.
"See here!" he said.
"Well," replied Georgie K., without turning his head.
"Georgie K."
"I can't stop. Excuse me, Doc." Georgie K. jumped into a light wagon on
that side of the field, and was gone with a swift bounce over the hollow
which separated it from the road. Doctor Gordon hurried back to his own
buggy, with James following, got in and took the road after Georgie K.
"He mustn't pay that money," said Gordon. James said nothing.
"I never thought of such a thing as that," said Doctor Gordon, driving
furiously, but they did not catch up with Georgie K. until they reached
the Evarts House, and he was out of his wagon.
Doctor Gordon approached him, pocketbook in hand. "See here, Georgie
K.," he said, "I owe you a hundred."
"Owe me nothing," said Georgie K. It had seemed impossible for his great
pink face to look angry and contemptuous, but it did. "I don't set up
for much," said he, "but I must say I like a square deal."
"Good Lord! so do I," said Gordon. "Here, take this money. I had Aaron
make those darned wooden pigeons. Jim Goodman has skinned enough young
chaps here to deserve the taste of a skin himself."
"He ain't skinned you."
"Hasn't he? He owes me for two wives' last sicknesses, to say nothing
of himself and children, and he's living with his third, and I shall
have to doctor her for nothing or let her die. But that wasn't what I
did it for."
Georgie K. turned upon him. "What on earth did you do it for, Doc?" said
he.
"Because I felt the way you have felt yourself."
"When?"
"When the woman that made those wax-flowers, and loved that little
stuffed bird in there, died."
Georgie K.'s face paled. "What's the matter, Doc?"
"Nothing, I tell you."
"What?"
"Nothing. Who said there was anything? I had to have my little joke. I
tell you, Georgie K., I've _got_ to have my little joke, just as I've
got to have my game of euchre with you and my glass of apple-jack; a man
can't be driven too far. I meant to make it right with him. He's a mean
little cuss, but I am not mean. I intended to spend a hundred on my
joke, and you got ahead of me. For God's sake, take the money, Georgie
K."
Georgie K., still with a white, shocked, inquiring face, extended his
hand and took the roll of bills which the doctor gave him.
"Come in and take something," said he, and Doctor Gordon and James
accepted. They went again into the state parlor on whose shelf were the
wax-flowers and the stuffed canary, and they partook of apple-jack.
Then Doctor Gordon and James took leave. Georgie K. gave Gordon a hearty
shake of the hand when he got into the buggy. Gordon looked at James
again with his gloomy face, as he took up the lines. "Failed in the race
again," he said. "Now we've got to hustle, for I have eight calls to
make before dinner, and it's late. I ought to change horses, but there
isn't time."
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