already in place, it was just like a play to watch ’em—she looking up at him, and him giving her back the best that an Indian can hand out in the way of a goo-goo eye. But there wasn’t anything in that recarnification and revulsion to tintype for me.
“‘Hey! Injun!’ I yells out to High Jack. ‘We’ve got a board-bill due in town, and you’re leaving me without a cent. Brace up and cut out the Neapolitan fisher-maiden, and let’s go back home.’
“But on the two goes without looking once back until, as you might say, the forest swallowed ’em up. And I never saw or heard of High Jack Snakefeeder from that day to this. I don’t know if the Cherokees came from the Aspics; but if they did, one of ’em went back.
“All I could do was to hustle back to that Boca place and panhandle Major Bing. He detached himself from enough of his winnings to buy me a ticket home. And I’m back again on the job at Chubb’s, sir, and I’m going to hold it steady. Come round, and you’ll find the steaks as good as ever.”
I wondered what Hunky Magee thought about his own story; so I asked him if he had any theories about reincarnation and transmogrifi-
