CHAPTER 10

Kepp could hardly have worked his hoax in the East. In the towns and villages in this region where it was rare ever to find a deaf-mute, where virtually little was known about the deaf in these days before the movies and radio spread information, and none had suspected that Mabel was deaf, the artful showman had had an easy time of it. His best bet was in keeping his audience in ignorance, which he did by talking to Mabel as she came out for her act. However, I was disgusted that Mabel should have permitted herself to be so exploited and used in such a manner. Then I saw the humorous side of it, and how Barnum had well said that the public loves to be humbugged. Mabel was an unusually good lipreader, had a decided knack for it, and used it as an asset to make her living.

Dick insisted that we go fifty-fifty with that hundred dollars. I protested, since it was all his own masterful doing, to which he replied that I was his dog, and he mine, and neither should eat without the other sharing. That was Dick every time, and he was always self- sacrificing and generous to a fault.

The next evening we drew into a large city near the Rocky Mountains. We had planned to remain there as long as we could get employment, or at least until the coming summer. And we also knew that this town had a large deaf population, and we would find friends.

If we had struck hard luck in the circus town until that show sent its awakening beams over the slumbering people, we struck harder luck here, and an amazing situation. For the first time Dick failed to get a job in a printing office in a large city. He told me that nearly every boss he had approached shook his head negatively and gave him a very unfriendly look!

“ Maybe there are some rough-neck deaf in this town, and they have riled the bosses, or have quit after getting a good job, ” Dick reasoned one night after a day of fruitless effort; “ and now the printers are shy of us, or disgusted with us. ”

We tramped the streets a week before our spirits rose with the coming of a job, and that job was a dangerous one for a deaf person. It was in a box factory, and we had to cross numerous railroad tracks among the switching trains to get to the place. Our work was easy, but humble for college men. We would assemble material and pass it on to the skilled joiners. It required about as much brains to do this work as it does to open and shut a door! But such a job is often the last resort of many a college man—deaf or not deaf.

We had been on that job a month when an amazing thing happened that brought about a decided change in our fortunes. Mild weather, for winter, or late fall, set in. Not only was it mild, but it was quite dry as well, and such weather offered opportunity for just such a thing as came to pass. The day’s work was done, and dusk was fast gathering. Dick and I stood outside of the factory watching a long freight train draw in and come to a stop. Most of the factory hands had left, and the place was deserted save for the alert switchman.

To our astonishment and amusement there jumped out from between two of the cars, from the brake beam, a diminutive figure wearing a cap and a dingy blue sweater. He was very dirty. He glanced quickly up and down the long train, and seeing no one near, stretched himself wearily, kicked his short legs vigorously, and bent down and then straightened up, thus unlimbering himself. He exercised his lungs like a baby whale learning to spout and shot his arms out like a pugilist shadow boxing. The next moment he caught sight of us, talking, and broke into a grin.

“ We must be as interesting to him as he is to us, ” Dick ventured.

The venturesome little traveler turned quickly about and put his hand back between the cars, withdrawing it holding a bag whose contents proved to be his rations and some clothing. Brushing himself with his disengaged hand, he started toward us, his grin broadening as he drew nearer. We broke into a laugh. His face was darkened by the smoke and dust that had been blowing against it, and his clothing, otherwise good, was badly in need of the cleaners.

Then he paused, and stood grinning. “ Hello. ” I shouted. He had no outward response, but kept grinning. Then he started.

“ Hello, fellow traveller, hello-o-o! ” I put cheer and welcome in it.

The next moment he stood before us, saluted in a comical manner and offered his hand, his face sobering. Dick grasped it, and as he did so I noticed a sudden change in his countenance. As my glance turned from Dick to the newcomer I noticed a peculiar button on the little fellow’s sweater. There was gold lettering on a blue background, and a gold rim around that. Thus absorbed, I was startled.

“ Hello, pals, do you live here? ” He spelled and signed! The little button securely attached to the dingy sweater was the unmistakable insignia of a fraternal order to which Dick belonged. The change in Dick’s face that I had noticed came as he felt the secret grip our new friend had given. A world of mutual understanding had passed between the two boys without my knowing it!

“ Who are you—what’s your name, pal? ” I asked.

“ Wait till I get cleaned up, boys, and see if you know me, ” he grinned, under that coat of soot.

“ Mine’s Mickey Dunmore, ” I offered, having dropped the Walton when I entered college; “ and this is Dick Wagner. We’ve left our college and are bound for the Coast. ” We shook hands. “ Do you live in this city? ”

“ No; I’m bound for the Northwest. ”

“ Where you staying tonight? ”

“ With you fellows, if you’ll have me? ”

“ Come along. ” Dick started off, and we joined step. We smuggled him into our domicile and to our room, fearing that the landlady might object to such an unwashed stranger.

It took a cake of lava soap and another of Ivory and two tubs of hot water to wash off the dirt and grime on that boy’s body! We gave him clean underwear, a shirt and one of Dick’s suits. He donned them and came from the bathroom, smelling sweet and wearing an air of dignity and importance.

Dick and I burst into laughter as we beheld this comical little fellow in those clothes that didn’t fit him. He had a broad face and bulging forehead, a grin that won everyone he met. He had a way of puckering his thick lips and blinking his little green-gray eyes. He had thick, tousled light hair.

He drew himself up. “ Now, who am I? ”

“ I don’t know. ” Dick studied him.

“ Look! Size me up, feel my muscles—think! ”

Grinning, we looked him over, felt his biceps and his hard calves, his solid arms. We stood off and gazed. He looked injured as we made no guess.

“ I’m Rufus Ford—Bunny, they call me, the Mighty Mite! ”

We jumped with astonishment. There wasn’t a deaf man in our world who hadn’t heard of the Mighty Mite, our imposter chaser, the hobo poet and printer by trade, and he was a champion wrestler, a flyweight. We grasped his hands, but he squeezed ours so hard driving his identity into us that we winced. Neither Dick nor I had ever seen him, or even a picture of him. But we had heard of him a hundred times. And here he was! And he was hungry. We shortly brought a hot supper to him bought at a cafe on the block, as Bunny refused to be seen in public dressed as he was. He ate as if starved.

The Mighty Mite remained in our room two days while the dry cleaners were sweating over his suit and sweater. Thus closeted while we two were at work the boy put in most of his time writing and reading. He was always sending newspapers his impressions and opinions, and his verse and jokes. His suit came back, clean, and now attired presentably he went job hunting. He was always turned down and many a look of untoward suspicion met his earnest, soliciting face. He was dumbfounded. Why that look of suspicion? Why no job in that busy city? Then one evening, after a fruitless day, he arrived home boiling with rage. He was a mad hornet. His hands got busy in a very demonstrative manner until I could fairly feel the rapidly fanned air cooling my brow! He had come face-to-face with an amazing situation, and had been arrested as a deaf-mute imposter!

With his fraternity button and a few newspaper clippings of his own verses which he carried in his wallet he had convinced the police judge of his genuineness, whereupon one of the officers took him aside and related, in writing, the experiences of numerous complaining business men and charity workers. The city, it seemed, was being worked by a gang of beggars and crooks posing as deaf-mutes. From certain districts of the city had come reports that these people were soliciting money for the purpose of attending a school for the deaf where they might learn a trade and become self-supporting, but really to be used for an easy existence! The crooks carried typed letters explaining how and when they had lost their hearing, and were now thrown helpless on the world. The papers bore the signatures of the kindly disposed donors. Among these names were found some of prominence, false signatures, undoubtedly. After each signature was a figure showing the amount donated. Here was a pretty situation, and the city was being worked, cleverly, damnably so, calling for action. It came, and how? Through repeated reports to the police, the game was out, and steps were being taken to round up the gang. And Bunny had been the first victim! But he had proved true blue, so what were the puzzled police to think and do?

Bunny’s blood was at fever heat, his face dangerously fierce.

“ There! ” he exclaimed, bringing his fist down violently upon the table, “ There’s the reason I can’t get a job—the reason you fellows get turned down. The bosses are sick of the sight of these bums, and have got the idea that we are all infernal beggars and nuisances. Pretty situation, isn’t it? ”

“ Let’s go for them, ” I suggested, rising, eager to start at once.

“ Go for them? ” repeated Bunny, a sneer on his face, as the evident lukewarmness of my remark touched and roused him. His eyes shot daggers as his brows knit and unknit. “ Go for them? I mean to drive ‘ em to their lair, seal ‘ em up and set off a stick of dynamite under the whole damn bunch—that’s what I mean to do! ” His face grew livid. “ Look at you and me, fair and square deaf men, begging for a chance to sweat for our daily bread, to earn an honest living, and being thus turned down ”—his face reddened as his anger grew—“ then see varmints crawling around, hoodwinking all they approach and picking up dollars like stones, rousing sympathy in some, and ire in others—in those in whom charity is only a sore spot—and spreading the damning impression that we deaf are outcasts and beggars! ” He drew himself up to full length, inflated his lungs, puckered out his lips and blew a young gale. His face was the picture of injured pride, and wrath, and loathing, and dangerous resentment. “ Look at me! ” he resumed, calming himself momentarily, “ I’ve earned every dollar of my living since I left home years ago. I’m famous in the silent world, a master printer, and an untiring worker in the interest of my brother deaf, and here to be yanked in by an over-zealous cop, arrested as a vagrant, an impostor and a crook! ” He dropped into a chair, exhausted, his face picturing a thousand wrongs, the muscles twisting with rage.

With all its ugliness, with all Bunny’s wonderful presentation of the facts, Dick and I could not, however, suppress a laugh.

“ What th ’ hell you laughing at, boys? ” Bunny stared at us.

“ The whole thing, ” I returned, “ and at your display of acting. Bunny, you ought to go on the stage—you’ve got feeling, emotion, and know how to show it. ”

“ All right, ” he returned, quickly, “ thank you; I’ll stage a show darn soon in this town, and mark you, I’ll be the hero. Will you fellows lend me the price of a stick of dynamite? ”

The next day Bunny had a talk with the police chief. Dick and I had to go to work. Bunny was to share our room until he was in better circumstances—until he had a job, or made money out of that theatrical venture he was about to branch out on. In the meantime he was to work with the police to ferret out those “ varmints. ”

What puzzled us three was the fact that the local deaf had not become aware of the situation and taken a hand in driving out the crooks. Maybe the employed deaf were in districts not yet touched by the gang, or the fellows had only just begun their rascally work. Bunny suggested to the Chief that all his officers be put on the watch for the imposters, to instruct heads of business houses to be ready for them, and to call up the police station if a suspect turned up; and when one did appear with his soliciting game, to detain him by a show of good intentions while another of the firm telephoned for an officer.

Two days later a case was reported. The suspect was detained while an officer hurried to the scene. He was a slick looking fellow, raw boned, smooth-faced and nonchalant. He had a trick of absently rolling his eyes and looking vacantly at objects and people. When the officer arrived, however, he grew wonderfully conscious and clear headed. He turned upon his detainers and asked by writing why they had brought the law when they had promised assistance. Half an hour later he was at the police station, facing Bunny.

Bunny greeted him in signs, but there was no return that way. Instead, the fellow produced his pad and pencil and wrote. “ I ain’t good on signs, yet. ” Bunny tried him with the finger speech, and there was a faint gleam of recognition; but his own efforts at fingerspelling were slow and faulty. Then followed a pencil and paper conversation, now and then Bunny and an officer breaking in with loud voices, which seemed, indeed to fall on deaf ears.

“ What caused your deafness, and how long ago did you lose your hearing? ” asked Bunny, with a feigned show of sympathy.

“ Numony—a year ago. ” He actually spelled the words, but very laboriously. This seemed to strengthen his claim in the eyes of the officer, and Bunny noticed it. But Bunny quickly countered,

“ Then why don’t you talk—speak? ” he wrote, rapidly, conscious of the fact that pneumonia itself is rarely a cause of deafness, though complications might follow to bring it about. Then, too, he was puzzled that this fellow should have so soon forgotten how to talk. Bunny had been deaf thirteen long years, but still used his voice with ease.

“ I can’t talk—I’m deaf and dum, ” and there was a definite look in his eyes as he wrote the words, with an emphatic scrawl.

“ I see you are, ” returned Bunny, aloud, but rather sarcastically. A heavy truck rumbled past the building. Vibrations of this sort are very readily felt by deaf people, and the officer could plainly hear the noise; but this wonderful creature, this “ Jim of the slippery ways, ” sat unmoved, blissfully unconscious of the passing truck!

The officer stepped into another room and returned with the Chief, himself, and explained the situation. The higher officer turned to Jim and spoke aloud, telling Bunny later on what he had said.

“ Come, come, my man, listen to me! We don’t think you’re deaf, and if you will own up—just talk to us and answer some questions—I’ll make you an easy sentence. ”

It failed. Jim shook his head in the most conclusive manner, at the same time pointing to his ears. The Chief left the room, and a moment later a pistol shot rang out. Bunny jumped. Jim was unconcerned. The Chief came bursting in only to meet the bland face of the clever actor. Then Bunny took the Chief aside, and this is what he said to him:

“ Chief, I’m dead sure this fellow is faking—I know his brand. He is well trained in his art, and acts pretty well, but he can’t fool me. We must make him speak, I know, before you will be convinced. I have an idea. I want you to inform Mr. Jim that we mean to restore his hearing. I want you to send him to the dispensary where he will meet a surgeon, and he must submit to an operation on his ears. When we get him on the operating table I think something will happen. Will you try this? ”

There was a dispensary in connection with the police station, and thither Jim was led and told what was to be done. Cruel looking surgical instruments of every description were in view, sharp knives, wonderful little saws, lancets, needles, forceps, cold, nerve-testing steel; rolls of bandages, rolls of cotton, bottles of iodine, of chloroform, and scores of phials with their skull and crossbones labels. In the center of the room stood the operating table with its hard, cold glass top. The “ surgeon ” who, in this case proved to be no other than the jail cook, was led in. His face was anything but sweetness and assurance. One look about that room, and one at the “ surgeon ” set Jim to shaking visibly. He nervously seized his pencil.

“ Wat youse going to do, Chief? ”

“ Jim, ” the Chief took the pad and wrote, “ your case is a very simple one. You have convinced me that you are deaf. I have had a talk with our surgeon, Dr. Ripp. He says he can restore your hearing in two hours. He means to cut open your ears, clean out the pus left by your pneumonia, rearrange the little bones, and sew up the torn drum. It will hurt, of course, but just be brave and you’ll leave this place sound and well again. ”

The Chief passed the writing on to Bunny after Jim had read it, and it took a deal of effort on his part to keep a sober face and assure Jim of the truthfulness of the message. But Jim was not so sure about it. He turned deathly pale as the “ surgeon ” pointed to the table and motioned him to get on. Then a miracle happened.

“ Good God, boss, don’t do that, I kin hear all right! ” Jim’s voice was as clear and strong as an opera singer’s—so I was told.

“ Bunny, ” the Chief wrote, laughing, “ we need a newspaper reporter. ”

The next thing to do was to sweat Jim, as they say in police circles. Light sentence was again promised if he would give out the facts. Sure enough, there was an organized gang of crooks at work in the city. They boasted a headquarters. A raid on it the very next night rounded up six of them and a demi-monde female of striking appearance, good looking, blonde, and well dressed. She gave her name as Blanche Moore. To our amazement she could sign and spell fluently! Here, apparently, was a female deaf Fagin, the leader of the gang, the one who had taught Jim the manual alphabet and was managing the game. The crooks called her the “ She-mute. ”

And so was exposed a new thing in the criminal world, and an amazing character in our world.