e trick?" asked the
man who remembered.

Jimmy wasn't quite drunk enough, and the violent exercise of the dance
somewhat sobered him. He glared at the man. "Whatsh you talkin' about?"
he demanded.

"I'm just asking you," said the man, "why, if you played straight with
Dannie about the girl, you never have had the face to go to confession
since you married her."

"Alwaysh send my wife," said Jimmy grandly. "Domsh any woman that can't
confiss enough for two!"

Then he hitched his chair closer to the Thread Man, and grew more
confidential. "Shee here," he said. "Firsht I see your pleated coat,
didn't like. But head's all right. Great head! Sthuck on frillsh there!
Want to be let in on something? Got enough city, clubsh, an' all that?
Want to taste real thing? Lesh go coon huntin'. Theysh tree down
Canoper, jish short pleashant walk, got fify coons in it! Nobody knowsh
the tree but me, shee? Been good to ush boys. Sat on same kind of
chairs we do. Educate ush up lot. Know mosht that poetry till I die,
shee? 'Wonner wash vinters buy, halfsh precious ash sthuff shell,'
shee? I got it! Let you in on real thing. Take grand big coon skinch
back to Boston with you. Ringsh on tail. Make wife fine muff, or fur
trimmingsh. Good to till boysh at club about, shee?"

"Are you asking me to go on a coon hunt with you?" demanded the Thread
Man. "When? Where?"

"Corshally invited," answered Jimmy. "To-morrow night. Canoper. Show
you plashe. Bill Duke's dogs. My gunsh. Moonsh shinin'. Dogs howlin'.
Shnow flying! Fify coonsh rollin' out one hole! Shoot all dead! Take
your pick! Tan skin for you myself! Roaring big firesh warm by. Bag
finesh sandwiches ever tasted. Milk pail pure gold drink. No stop, slop
out going over bridge. Take jug. Big jug. Toss her up an' let her
gurgle. Dogsh bark. Fire pop. Guns bang. Fifty coons drop. Boysh all
go. Want to get more education. Takes culture to get woolsh off. Shay,
will you go?"

"I wouldn't miss it for a thousand dollars," said the Thread Man. "But
what will I say to my house for being a day late?"

"Shay gotter grip," suggested Jimmy. "Never too late to getter grip.
Will you all go, boysh?"

There were not three men in the saloon who knew of a tree that had
contained a coon that winter, but Jimmy was Jimmy, and to be trusted
for an expedition of that sort; and all of them agreed to be at the
saloon ready for the hunt at nine o'clock the next night. The Thread
Man felt that he was going