Simpson threw up his hands. “That’s it! That’s it! An’ because I don’t come out here an’ promise to give yuh more ’n I got, yuh don’t believe me. An’ I got the bes’ show on the Island, barrin’ an’ exceptin’ _none_! A show that on’y costs one dime to witness--an’ it’s worth a dollar if it’s worth a cent!” He made a sign to the platform. “Shine” and the three beauties in tights and tinsel stood up. One of the latter was chewing gum with a pensive movement of the under jaw. “First an’ foremost, let me tell yuh,” he said, “I got Kulder, the Hindoo snake-charmer, sword-swallower, an’ fire-eater.” He pointed to “Shine.” “Bein’ a native o’ Calcutter, where he was employed by the Hindoo fire-department, he was kicked out three years ago by the Durbar because he wouldn’t turn water on a blaze. No! He wanted t’ eat the flames!” The crowd grinned. “Shine” scowled. Simpson went on: “He’ll drink anythin’ from boiled bay rum to knockout drops. He’ll walk barefoot from here to the Batt’ry to get a look at a fire-boat. He’s the simplest an’ sulkiest an’ treacherest damn fool of a Hindoo that ever put up a game on a partner. An’ he don’t understan’ a word yuh say!” “Shine” muttered to himself. Simpson launched out into a glowing description of the Beauties of his Persian Harem. He could not bring them all out on the platform. The police, he whispered, would not let him. But excepting the secret palace of the Sultan of Turkey, there was nothing to equal it on this side of Madagascar! Nuthin’! As for the canvases overhead, they spoke for themselves. They represented “truthfully an’ without _ex_-aggeration” a small part of the mystic marvels to be seen on the inside for the small price of a dime, ten cents. “A dime! A dime!” he cried. “All free fer a dime!” The boy struck up a staggering melody on the mechanical piano. “Shine” and the Beauties retreated through the curtains. The “boosters” began to shove the crowd in towards the ticket office in a pretence of eagerness to get good seats for themselves, confiding to their neighbors that they had heard it was “the goods, all right, inside.” They paid and passed in; and at least a score of gulls followed them with more or less doubtfulness. That was the first “push,” and it was Simpson’s habit to make two “pushes” before he gave his performance. While he was inside, waiting for a new audience to gather out in front, “Shine” accosted him again. “Are yuh goin’ to gi’ me them boots?” “Sure thing,” he promised airily. “Soon ’s I get good an’ ready.” “Shine” nodded and went back to his place behind the curtains. Simpson saw nothing new in the fireman’s manner. He had been taunting “Shine” all afternoon with platform insults--which “Shine” had endured in silence because he had not understood them--and Simpson had mistaken stupor for meekness. The net was spread for the second “push” in the same manner as for the first, though in briefer language, for there was now an impatient roomful inside, listening.