“Where's the arrestin' come in?” demanded Stitt.

“Comes quick now, Bailey. Plenty quick enough for me and Jonadab, I tell you that! After we got to our room the Cap'n went to sleep pretty soon and I set in the one chair, readin' the newspaper and wishin' I hadn't ate so many of the warm bricks that the Golconda folks hoped was biscuit. They made me feel like a schooner goin' home in ballast. I guess I was drowsin' off myself, but there comes a most unearthly yell from the bed and I jumped ha'f out of the chair. There was Jonadab settin' up and lookin' wild.

“'What in the world?' says I.

“'Oh! Ugh! My soul!' says he.

“'Your soul, hey?' says I. 'Is that all? I thought mebbe you'd lost a quarter.'

“'Barzilla,' he says, comin' to and starin' at me solemn, 'Barzilla, I've had a dream—a wonderful dream.'

“'Well,' I says, 'I ain't surprised. A feller that h'isted in as much fried dough as you did ought to expect—'

“'But I tell you 'twas a WONDERFUL dream,' he says. 'I dreamed I was on Blank Street, where we was this mornin', and Patrick Kelly comes to me and p'ints his finger right in my face. I see him as plain as I see you now. And he says to me—he said it over and over, two or three times—Seventeen,” says he, “Seventeen.” Now what do you think of that?'

“'Humph!' I says. 'I ain't surprised. I think 'twas just seventeen of them biscuits that you got away with. Wonder to me you didn't see somebody worse'n old Pat.'

“But he was past jokin'. You never see a man so shook up by the nightmare as he was by that one. He kept goin' over it and tellin' how natural old Kelly looked and how many times he said 'Seventeen' to him.

“'Now what did he mean by it?' he says. 'Don't tell me that was a common dream, 'cause twa'n't. No, sir, 'twas a vision sent to me, and I know it. But what did he mean?'

“'I think he meant you was seventeen kinds of an idiot,' I snorts, disgusted. 'Get up off that bed and stop wavin' your arms, will you? He didn't mean for you to turn yourself into a windmill, that's sartin sure.'

“Then he hits his knee a slap that sounds like a window blind blowin' to. 'I've got it!' he sings out. 'He meant for me to go to number seventeen on that street. That's what he meant.'

“I laughed and made fun of him, but I might as well have saved my breath. He was sure Pat Kelly's ghost had come hikin' back from the hereafter to tell him to go to 17 Blank Street and find his boy. 'Else why was he ON Blank Street?' he says. 'You tell me that.'

“I couldn't tell him. It's enough for me to figger out what makes live folks act the way they do, let alone dead ones. And Cap'n Jonadab was a Spiritu'list on his mother's side. It ended by my agreein' to give the Jimmie chase one more try.

“'But it's got to be the last,' I says. 'When you get to number seventeen don't you say you think the old man meant to say “seventy” and stuttered.'

“Number 17 Blank Street was a little combination fruit and paper store run by an Eyetalian with curly hair and the complexion of a molasses cooky. His talk sounded as if it had been run through a meat chopper. All he could say was, 'Nica grape, genta'men? On'y fifteen cent a pound. Nica grape? Nica apple? Nica pear? Nica ploom?'

“'Kelly?' says Jonadab, hollerin' as usual. 'Kelly! d'ye understand? K-E-L-Kel L-Y-ly, Kelly. YOU know, KELLY! We want to find him.'

“And just then up steps a feller about six feet high and three foot through. He was dressed in checkerboard clothes, some gone to seed, and you could hardly see the blue tie he had on for the glass di'mond in it. Oh, he was a little wilted now—for the lack of water, I judge—but 'twas plain that he'd been a sunflower in his time. He'd just come out of a liquor store next door to the fruit shop and was wipin' his mouth with the back of his hand.

“'What's this I hear?' says he, fetchin' Jonadab a welt on the back like a mast goin' by the board. 'Is it me friend Kelly you're lookin' for?'

“I was just goin' to tell him no, not likin' his looks, but Jonadab cut in ahead of me, out of breath from the earthquake the feller had landed him, but excited as could be.

“'Yes, yes!' says he. 'It's Mr. Kelly we want. Do you know him?'

“'Do I know him? Why, me bucko, 'tis me old college chum he is. Come on with me and we'll give him the glad hand.'

“He grabs Jonadab by the arm and starts along the sidewalk, steerin' a toler'ble crooked course, but gainin' steady by jerks.

“'I was on me way to Kelly's place now,' says he. 'And here it is. Sure didn't I bate the bookies blind on Rosebud but yesterday—or was it the day before? I don't know, but come on, me lads, and we'll do him again.'

“He turned in at a little narrer entry-like, and went stumblin' up a flight of dirty stairs. I caught hold of Jonadab's coat tails and pulled him back.

“'Where you goin', you crazy loon?' I whispered. 'Can't you see he's three sheets in the wind? And you haven't told him what Kelly you want, nor nothin'.'

“But I might as well have hollered at a stone wall. 'I don't care if he's as fur gone in liquor as Belshazzer's goat,' sputters the Cap'n, all worked up. 'He's takin' us to a Kelly, ain't he? And is it likely there'd be another one within three doors of the number I dreamed about? Didn't I tell you that dream was a vision sent? Don't lay to NOW, Barzilla, for the land sakes! It's Providence a-workin'.'

“'Cording to my notion the sunflower looked more like an agent from t'other end of the line than one from Providence, but just then he commenced to yell for us and upstairs we went, Jonadab first.

“'Whisht!' says the checkerboard, holdin' on to Jonadab's collar and swingin' back and forth. 'Before we proceed to blow in on me friend Kelly, let us come to an understandin' concernin' and touchin' on—and—and—I don't know. But b'ys,' says he, solemn and confidential, 'are you on the square? Are yez dead game sports, hey?'

“'Yes, yes!' says Jonadab. 'Course we be. Mr. Kelly and us are old friends. We've come I don't know how fur on purpose to see him. Now where's—'

“'Say no more,' hollers the feller. 'Say no more. Come on with yez.' And he marches down the dark hall to a door with a 'To let' sign on it and fetches it a bang with his fist. It opens a little ways and a face shows in the crack.

“'Hello, Frank!' hails the sunflower, cheerful. 'Will you take that ugly mug of yours out of the gate and lave me friends in?'

“'What's the matter wid you, Mike?' asks the chap at the door. 'Yer can't bring them two yaps in here and you know it. Gwan out of this.'

“He tried to shut the door, but the checkerboard had his foot between it and the jamb. You might as well have tried to shove in the broadside of an ocean liner as to push against that foot.

“'These gents are friends of mine,' says he. 'Frank, I'll do yez the honor of an introduction to Gin'ral Grant and Dan'l O'Connell. Open that door and compose your face before I'm obliged to break both of 'em.'

“'But I tell you, Mike, I can't,' says the door man, lookin' scared. 'The boss is out, and you know—'

“'WILL you open that door?' roars the big chap. And with that he hove his shoulder against the panels and jammed the door open by main force, all but flattenin' the other feller behind it. 'Walk in, Gin'ral,' he says to Jonadab, and in we went, me wonderin' what was comin' next, and not darin' to guess.

“There was a kind of partitioned off hallway inside, with another door in the partition. We opened that, and there was a good-sized room, filled with men, smokin' and standin' around. A high board fence was acrost one end of the room, and from behind it comes a jinglin' of telephone bells and the sounds of talk. The floor was covered with torn papers, the window blinds was shut, the gas was burnin' blue, and, between it and the smoke, the smells was as various as them in a fish glue factory. On the fence was a couple of blackboards with 'Belmont' and 'Brighton' and suchlike names in chalk wrote on 'em, and beneath that a whole mess in writin' and figures like, 'Red Tail 4—Wt—108—Jock Smith—5—1,' 'Sourcrout 5—Wt—99—Jock Jones—20—5,' and similar rubbish. And the gang—a mighty mixed lot—was scribblin' in little books and watchin' each other as if they was afraid of havin' their pockets picked; though, to look at 'em, you'd have guessed the biggest part had nothin' in their pockets but holes.

“The six-foot checkerboard—who, it turned out, answered to the hail of 'Mike'—seemed to be right at home with the gang. He called most of 'em by their first names and went sasshayin' around, weltin' 'em on the back and tellin' 'em how he'd 'put crimps in the bookies rolls t'other day,' and a lot more stuff that they seemed to understand, but was hog Greek to me and Jonadab. He'd forgot us altogether which was a mercy the way I looked at it, and I steered the Cap'n over into a corner and we come to anchor on a couple of rickety chairs.

“'What—why—what kind of a place IS this, Barzilla?' whispers Jonadab, scared.

“'Sh-h-h!' says I. 'Land knows. Just set quiet and hang on to your watch.'

“'But—but I want to find Kelly,' says he.

“'I'd give somethin' to find a back door,' says I. 'Ain't this a collection of dock rats though! If this is a part of your dream, Jonadab, I wish you'd turn over and wake up. Oh land! here's one murderer headin' this way. Keep your change in your fist and keep the fist shut.'

“A more'n average rusty peep, with a rubber collar on and no necktie, comes slinkin' over to us. He had a smile like a crack in a plate.

“'Say, gents,' he says, 'have you made your bets yet? I've got a dead straight line on the handicap,' says he, 'and I'll put you next for a one spot. It's a sure t'ing at fifteen to three. What do you say?'

“I didn't say nuthin'; but that fool dream was rattlin' round in Jonadab's skull like a bean in a blowgun, and he sees a chance for a shot.

“'See here, mister,' he says. 'Can you tell me where to locate Mr. Kelly?'

“'Who—Pete?' says the feller. 'Oh, he ain't in just now. But about that handicap. I like the looks of youse and I'll let youse in for a dollar. Or, seein' it's you, we'll say a half. Only fifty cents. I wouldn't do better for my own old man,' he says.

“While the Cap'n was tryin' to unravel one end of this gibberish I spoke up prompt.

“'Say,' says I, 'tell me this, will you? Is the Kelly who owns this—this palace, named Jimmie—James, I mean?'

“'Naw,' says he. 'Sure he ain't. It's Pete Kelly, of course—Silver Pete. But what are you givin' us? Are you bettin' on the race, or ain't you?'

“Well, Jonadab understood that. He bristled up like a brindled cat. If there's any one thing the Cap'n is down on, it's gamblin' and such—always exceptin' when he knows he's won already. You've seen that kind, maybe.

“'Young feller,' he says, perkish, 'I want you to know that me and my friend ain't the bettin' kind. What sort of a hole IS this, anyway?'

“The rubber collared critter backed off, lookin' worried. He goes acrost the room, and I see him talkin' to two or three other thieves as tough as himself. And they commenced to stare at us and scowl.

“'Come on,' I whispered to Jonadab. 'Let's get out of this place while we can. There ain't no Jimmie Kelly here, or if there is you don't want to find him.'

“He was as willin' to make tracks as I was, by this time, and we headed for the door in the partition. But Rubber Collar and some of the others got acrost our bows.

“'Cut it out,' says one of 'em. 'You can't get away so easy. Hi, Frank! Frank! Who let these turnip pullers in here, anyhow? Who are they?'

“The chap who was tendin' door comes out of his coop. 'You've got me,' he says. 'They come in with Big Mike, and he was loaded and scrappy and jammed 'em through. Said they was pals of his. Where is he?'

“There was a hunt for Mike, and, when they got his bearin's, there he was keeled over on a bench, breathin' like an escape valve. And an admiral's salute wouldn't have woke him up. The whole crew was round us by this time, some ugly, and the rest laffin' and carryin' on.

“'It's the Barkwurst gang,' says one.

“'It's old Bark himself,' says another. 'Look at them lace curtains.' And he points to Jonadab's whiskers.

“'This one's Jacobs in disguise,' sings out somebody else. 'You can tell him by the Rube get-up. Haw! haw!'

“'Soak 'em! Do 'em up! Don't let 'em out!' hollers a ha'f dozen more.

“Jonadab was game; I'll say that for him. And I hadn't been second mate in my time for nothin'.

“'Take your hands off me!' yells the Cap'n. 'I come in here to find a man I'm lookin' for, James Kelly it was, and—You would, would you! Stand by, Barzilla!'

“I stood by. Rubber Collar got one from me that made him remember home and mother, I'll bet. Anyhow, my knuckles ached for two days afterwards. And Jonadab was just as busy. But I cal'late we'd have been ready for the oven in another five minutes if the door hadn't bu'st open with a bang, and a loud dressed chap, with the sweat pourin' down his face, come tearin' in.

“'Beat it, fellers!' he yells. 'The place is goin' to be pinched. I've just had the tip, and they're right on top of me.'

“THEN there was times. Everybody was shoutin' and swearin' and fallin' over each other to get out. I was kind of lost in the shuffle, and the next thing I remember for sartin is settin' up on Rubber Collar's stomach and lookin' foggy at the door, where the loud dressed man was wrestlin' with a policeman. And there was police at the windows and all around.

“Well, don't talk! I got up, resurrects Jonadab from under a heap of gamblers and furniture, and makes for harbor in our old corner. The police was mighty busy, especially a fat, round-faced, red-mustached man, with gold bands on his cap and arms, that the rest called 'Cap'n.' Him and the loud dressed chap who'd give the alarm was talkin' earnest close to us.

“'I can't help it, Pete,' says the police cap'n. ''Twas me or the Vice Suppression crowd. They've been on to you for two weeks back. I only just got in ahead of 'em as it was. No, you'll have to go along with the rest and take your chances. Quiet now, everybody, or you'll get it harder,' he roars, givin' orders like the skipper of a passenger boat. 'Stand in line and wait your turns for the wagon.'

“Jonadab grabbed me by the wrist. He was pale and shakin' all over.

“'Oh, Lordy!' says he, 'we're took up. Will we have to go to jail, do you think?'

“'I don't know,' I says, disgusted. 'I presume likely we will. Did you dream anything like this? You'd better see if you can't dream yourself out now.' Twas rubbin' it in, but I was mad.

“'Oh! oh!' says he, flappin' his hands. 'And me a deacon of the church! Will folks know it, do you think?'

“'Will they know it! Sounds as if they knew it already. Just listen to that.'

“The first wagon full of prizes was bein' loaded in down at the front door, and the crowd outside was cheerin' 'em. Judgin' by the whoops and hurrahs there wa'n't no less than a million folks at the show, and they was gettin' the wuth of admission.

“'Oh, dear!' groans Jonadab. 'And it'll be in the papers and all! I can't stand this.'

“And afore I could stop him he'd run over and tackled the head policeman.

“'Mister—Mister Cap'n,' he says, pantin', 'there's been a mistake, an awful mis—take—'

“'That's right,' says the police cap'n, 'there has. Six or eight of you tin horns got clear. But—' Then he noticed who was speakin' to him and his mouth dropped open like a hatch. 'Well, saints above!' he says. 'Have the up-state delegates got to buckin' the ponies, too? Why ain't you back home killin' pertater bugs? You ought to be ashamed.'

“'But we wa'n't gamblin'—me and my friend wa'n't. We was led in here by mistake. We was told that a feller named Kelly lived here and we're huntin' for a man of that name. I've got a message to him from his poor dead father back in Orham. We come all the way from Orham, Mass.—to find him and—'

“The police cap'n turned around then and stared at him hard. 'Humph!' says he, after a spell. 'Go over there and set down till I want you. No, you'll go now and we'll waste no breath on it. Go on, do you hear!'

“So we went, and there we set for ha'f an hour, while the rest of the gang and the blackboards and the paper slips and the telephones and Big Mike and his chair was bein' carted off to the wagon. Once, when one of the constables was beatin' acrost to get us, the police cap'n spoke to him.

“'You can leave these two,' he says. 'I'll take care of them.'

“So, finally, when there was nothin' left but the four walls and us and some of the police, he takes me and Jonadab by the elbows and heads for the door.

“'Now,' says he, 'walk along quiet and peaceable and tell me all about it. Get out of this!' he shouts to the crowd of small boys and loafers on the sidewalk, 'or I'll take you, too.'

“The outsiders fell astern, lookin' heartbroke and disapp'inted that we wa'n't hung on the spot, and the fat boss policeman and us two paraded along slow but grand. I felt like the feller that was caught robbin' the poorhouse, and I cal'late Jonadab felt the same, only he was so busy beggin' and pleadin' and explainin' that he couldn't stop to feel anything.

“He told it all, the whole fool yarn from one end to t'other. How old Pat give him the message and how he went to the laundry, and about his ridiculous dream, every word. And the fat policeman shook all over, like a barrel of cod livers.

“By and by we got to a corner of a street and hove to. I could see the station house loomin' up large ahead. Fatty took a card from his pocketbook, wrote on it with a pencil, and then hailed a hack, one of them stern-first kind where the driver sits up aloft 'way aft. He pushed back the cap with the gilt wreath on it, and I could see his red hair shinin' like a sunset.

“'Here,' says he to the hack driver, 'take these—this pair of salads to the—what d'ye call it?—the Golconda House, wherever on top of the pavement that is. And mind you, deliver 'em safe and don't let the truck horses get a bite at 'em. And at half-past eight to-night you call for 'em and bring 'em here,' handin' up the card he'd written on.

“''Tis the address of my house, I'm givin',' he says, turnin' to Jonadab. 'I'll be off duty then and we'll have dinner and talk about old times. To think of you landin' in Silver Pete's pool room! Dear! dear! Why, Cap'n Wixon, barrin' that your whiskers are a bit longer and a taste grayer, I'd 'a' known you anywheres. Many's the time I've stole apples over your back fence. I'm Jimmie Kelly,' says he.”

“Well, by mighty!” exclaimed the depot master, slapping his knee. “So HE was the Kelly man! Humph!”

“Funny how it turned out, wa'n't it?” said Barzilla. “Course, Cap'n Jonadab was perfectly sat on spiritu'lism and signs and omens and such after that. He's had his fortune told no less'n eight times sence, and, nigh's I can find out, each time it's different. The amount of blondes and brunettes and widows and old maids that he's slated to marry, accordin' to them fortune tellers, is perfectly scandalous. If he lives up to the prophecies, Brigham Young wouldn't be a twospot 'longside of him.”

“It's funny about dreams,” mused Captain Hiram. “Folks are always tellin' about their comin' true, but none of mine ever did. I used to dream I was goin' to be drowned, but I ain't been yet.”

The depot master laughed. “Well,” he observed, “once, when I was a youngster, I dreamed two nights runnin' that I was bein' hung. I asked my Sunday school teacher if he believed dreams come true, and he said yes, sometimes. Then I told him my dream, and he said he believed in that one. I judged that any other finish for me would have surprised him. But, somehow or other, they haven't hung me yet.”

“There was a hired girl over at the Old Home House who was sat on fortune tellin',” said Wingate. “Her name was Effie, and—”

“Look here!” broke in Captain Bailey Stitt, righteous indignation in his tone, “I've started no less than nineteen different times to tell you about how I went sailin' in an automobile. Now do you want to hear it, or don't you?”

“How you went SAILIN' in an auto?” repeated Barzilla. “Went ridin', you mean.”

“I mean sailin'. I went ridin', too, but—”

“You'll have to excuse me, Bailey,” interrupted Captain Hiram, rising and looking at his watch. “I've stayed here a good deal longer'n I ought to, already. I must be gettin' on home to see how poor little Dusenberry, my boy, is feelin'. I do hope he's better by now. I wish Dr. Parker hadn't gone out of town.”

The depot master rose also. “And I'll have to be excused, too,” he declared. “It's most time for the up train. Good-by, Hiram. Give my regards to Sophrony, and if there's anything I can do to help, in case your baby should be sick, just sing out, won't you?”

“But I want to tell about this automobilin' scrape,” protested Captain Bailey. “It was one of them things that don't happen every day.”

“So was that fortune business of Effie's,” declared Wingate. “Honest, the way it worked out was queer enough.”

But the train whistled just then and the group broke up. Captain Sol went out to the platform, where Cornelius Rowe, Ed Crocker, Beriah Higgins, Obed Gott, and other interested citizens had already assembled. Wingate and Stitt followed. As for Captain Hiram Baker, he hurried home, his conscience reproving him for remaining so long away from his wife and poor little Hiram Joash, more familiarly known as “Dusenberry.”