Get Next!

Get Next!

The Project Gutenberg eBook, Get Next!, by Hugh McHugh
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Title: Get Next!
Author: Hugh McHugh
Release Date: June 13, 2004 [eBook #12608]
Language: English
Character set encoding: US-ASCII
***START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK GET
NEXT!***
E-text prepared by Al Haines

GET NEXT!
BY HUGH McHUGH
AUTHOR OF

"JOHN HENRY," "DOWN THE LINE WITH JOHN HENRY," "IT'S
UP TO YOU," "BACK TO THE WOODS," "OUT FOR THE COIN"
"I NEED THE MONEY," "I'M FROM MISSOURI," "YOU CAN
SEARCH ME," ETC.
ILLUSTRATIONS BY GORDON H. GRANT
1905

CONTENTS
JOHN HENRY ON RACE TIPSTERS
JOHN HENRY ON BRIDGE WHIST
JOHN HENRY ON AMATEUR PHOTOGRAPHY
JOHN HENRY ON THE GRIP
JOHN HENRY ON COURTING
JOHN HENRY ON SUMMER RESORTS
JOHN HENRY ON GREAT MEN

GET NEXT!
JOHN HENRY ON RACE TIPSTERS
One day last week I was beating the ballast up Broadway when Pete,
the Piker, declared himself in and began to chatter about cinches at the
track.
"Get the saw, Pete, and cut it," I said; "it's many a long day since I've
been a Patsy for the ponies. Once they stung me so hard that for months
my bank account looked like a porous plaster, so I took the chloroform

treatment and now you and your tips to the discards, my boy, to the
discards!"
Pete isn't really a native of Dopeville-on-the-Fence, but he likes to have
people think he knows the racing game backwards.
And he does--backwards. In real life he's a theatrical manager and his
name on the three-sheets is Peter J. Badtime, the Human Salary Spoiler.
In theatrical circles they call him the impresario with the sawdust koko
and the split-second appetite.
Every time Pete poses as an angel for a troupe if you listen hard you
can hear the fuse blow out somewhere between Albany and
Schenectady.
From time to time over 2,197 actors have had to walk home on account
of Pete's cold feet.
Pete can develop a severe case of frosted pave pounders quicker than
any angel that ever had to dig for the oatmeal money.
Pete is an Ace all right--the Ace of Chumps!
His long suit when he isn't dishing out his autobiography is to stand
around a race track and bark at the bookmakers.
Pete is what I would call a plunger with the lid on.
He never bets more than two dollars on a race and even then he keeps
wishing he had it back.
Pete had me nailed to the corner of Broadway and 42d Street for about
ten minutes when fortunately Bunch Jefferson rolled up in his new
kerosene cart and I needed no second invitation to hop aboard and give
Pete the happy day-day!
"Whither away, Bunch?" I asked, as the Bubble began to do a Togo
through the fattest streets in the town.

"I thought I'd run up and get the girls and take 'em for a spin out to the
Belmont Park races," Bunch came back.
"Did you telephone them?" I inquired.
"No, but I told Alice this morning that if I got through at the office in
time I'd take her to the track. We can call for Peaches on the way across
town," was Bunch's program.
"Whisper, Bunch!" I suggested; "let's do the selfish gag for once and
leave the wives at home. I haven't bet a nickle on a skate for two years,
but my little black man has the steering wheel to-day and I'm going to
fall off the sense wagon and break a five dollar bill."
"I'm with you, John," chuckled Bunch, and half an hour later we were
on our way | to the track, after having sent notes to our wives that
important business kept us chained to the post of duty, but if they
would meet us at the Hotel Astor at 7 p.m. we'd all dine together.
Bunch had just tied his Bubble to a tree at the track and was in the act
of giving it a long cool drink of gasolene and some cracked oats, when
Flash Harvey bore down on us and made a touch for the turn-out.
"Say, Bunch!" chirped Flash, "lend me the choo-choo for half an hour,
will you? I have my sister and a dream cousin of ours from Hartford
here this aft. and I'm eager to show them how I can pound a public road
with a rowdy-cart. I'll take good care of the machine and be back in two
hours, honest, Bunch!"
Flash being an old friend of ours Bunch