"Or," he continued calmly, "to speak more stric'ly, the few individools
of that there expirin' race is now totally reduced to a few women."
"Your statement is wild--"
"No; but they're wild. I seen 'em. Bein' extremely bee-utiful I
approached nearer, but they hove rocks at me, they did, an' they run into
the rocks like squir'ls, they did, an' I was too much on the blink to
stick around whistlin' for dearie.
"But I seen 'em; they was all dolled up in the skins of wild annermals.
When I see the first one she was eatin' onto a ear of corn, an' I nearly
ketched her, but she run like hellnall--yes, sir. Just like that.
"So next I looked for some cave guy to waltz up an' paste me, but no. An'
after I had went through them dam' Coquina mountains I realized that
there was nary a guy left in this here expirin' race, only women, an'
only about a dozen o' them."
He ceased, meditatively expelled a cloud of pungent smoke, and folded his
arms.
"Of course," said I with a sneer, "you have proofs to back your pleasant
tale?"
"Sure. I made a map."
"I see," said I sarcastically. "You propose to have me pay you for that
map?"
"Sure."
"How much, my confiding friend?"
"Ten thousand plunks."
I began to laugh. He laughed, too: "You'll pay 'em if you take my map an'
go to the Coquina hills," he said.
I stopped laughing: "Do you mean that I am to go there and investigate
before I pay you for this information?"
"Sure. If the goods ain't up to sample the deal is off."
"Sample? What sample?" I demanded derisively.
He made a gesture with one soiled hand as though quieting a balky horse.
"I took a snapshot, friend. You wanta take a slant at it?"
"You took a photograph of one of these alleged cave-dwellers?"
"I took ten but when these here cave-ladies hove rocks at me the fillums
was put on the blink--all excep' this one which I dee-veloped an'
printed."
He drew from his inner coat pocket a photograph and handed it to me--the
most amazing photograph I ever gazed upon. Astounded, almost convinced
I sat looking at this irrefutable evidence in silence. The smoke of his
cigar drifting into my face aroused me from a sort of dazed inertia.
"Listen," I said, half strangled, "are you willing to wait for payment
until I personally have verified the existence of these--er--creatures?"
"You betcher! When you have went there an' have saw the goods, just let
me have mine if they're up to sample. Is that right?"
"It seems perfectly fair."
"It is fair. I wouldn't try to do a scientific guy--no, sir. Me without
no eddycation, only brains? Fat chance I'd have to put one over on a
Academy sport what's chuck-a-block with Latin an' Greek an' scientific
stuff an' all like that!"
I admitted to myself that he'd stand no chance.
"Is it a go?" he asked.
"Where is the map?" I inquired, trembling internally with excitement.
"Ha--ha!" he said. "Listen to my mirth! The map is inside here, old
sport!" and he tapped his retreating forehead with one nicotine-stained
finger.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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