"Cogan had a dream of somebody trying to pull his leg off and it woke
him. He looked down and saw that the lace of one of his shoes was
untied. He retied it and looked at his chum. He was still asleep,
snoring, but there was something missing. In half a minute, his brain
clearing, he saw that Tommie's shoes were gone, and also his hat, and
his pockets turned inside out. Cogan then noticed that his own trousers
pockets were turned inside out. He stood up and caught sight of two
fellows just dropping over the tall iron fence surrounding the park. The
gates of the park were closed, and locked, too, or so Cogan guessed, and
wasted no time in trying them. The fence was pretty high and had iron
spikes on top, and he felt somewhat stiff in his joints, but a hot
temper is good as a bath and a rub-down any time--Cogan vaulted the
fence, and the two natives just then turned and saw him. He was coming
on pretty fast and they threw up their hands, dropped the shoes and hat,
and went tearing away. Cogan had only to stoop down and pick up the
stuff, but it wasn't property he was after. To steal the shoes off of a
shipwrecked sailor! Even if they weren't told he was shipwrecked, they
ought to have guessed, or so he thought, and he held on after them, and
Cogan could run pretty well in those days. But so could one of those
fellows. Cogan could soon have caught the slow one, but he kept always
after the fast fellow and was feeling sure of his man when he took to
turning corners. They had come to a part of the city where the streets
were narrow and the blocks short. It seemed to Cogan there was a corner
every twenty feet, and it was up hill. His man turned one corner and
four seconds later Cogan turned it, and, his man not being in sight,
Cogan kept on and turned the next corner. Another twenty yards and he
ran up against a high wall. 'Wow,' says Cogan, but with a running high
jump, he got his fingers on top of the wall and hauled himself up. There
was nobody in sight on the other side. 'Trimmed!' says Cogan, and,
sitting on the wall, began to fan himself.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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