Red Wagon Stories, Or, Tales Told Under the Tent
Red Wagon Stories, Or, Tales Told Under the Tent
By Wells Hawks
19 Jun, 2019
The Old Grafter had corns on his knuckles from holding greenbacks between his fingers.
He looked a trifle seedy about the costume, but his moustache was waxed—the moustache, too, was dyed and you saw the reason when he took his hat off. The Old
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The Old Grafter had corns on his knuckles from holding greenbacks between his fingers.
He looked a trifle seedy about the costume, but his moustache was waxed—the moustache, too, was dyed and you saw the reason when he took his hat off. The Old Grafter wore a celluloid collar and a polka dotted dickey, and when his vest was opened it showed up the shyness of his linen.
The Concert Manager was springing gossip about the principal clown who was having trouble with his wife who did the iron jaw swing. He saw the Old Grafter coming across the ring and he stopped, for it was pretty well known that old-timer wouldn’t stand for scandal. The Old Grafter bit off enough tobacco from the canvasman’s plug to make a comfortable quid and then sat down on the snake box. He was looking sad and there was silence. Presently he sent a splash of[15] juice up against the center pole and after shifting the quid he opened up. Less