Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 124, No. 3 — page 17: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUNGLE LOVE. Speculative prowling, plus a discriminat- ing eye for feather-brained girls of pleasing physical charms had induced him to try his - luck with Julie; but he had no intention of getting into a two-fisted row with a man. No doughty, once-aboard-the-lugger-and- . the-gurl-is-mine, great white way filibuster, was this modern squire of opportunity-sown damsels. Artie loved his pickings and sneakings of marketable valuables and cheap pleasures; but with all his appetites and cleverness, he was only a poor lickspit- tle of sin, afraid of the consequences of his calculated stunts. A crook all the time; a kiss-and-run-away, tinpanny rowé was Artie in his lighter moments. If at that moment there. had appeared any pursuing sequel to Julie’s backward glance, Artie would have taken the first turn to the right and beaten it. He adven- tured—carefully. Julie, far less weil cquipped to steer a safe coursé or even pre- tend to hold the rudder of destiny, was careless by Inexperience. Assured that all was well, Artie ranged alongside the girl, and chatting with pleas- ant ease soon smoothed her ruffled feathers. Chickens are notoriously irrational and scary creatures, and Artie put down that backward glance to some imagined and > scure fancy. © S’pose we take a little ride,” he sug- gested, “those pretty feet of yours were not meant for pounding sidewalks,” and added as he read the fluttering mdecision on the girl’s face. “We'll go to the Mogolia, have a snack to eat and—get ac- quainted. Of course you’ve been to the old Mog?” Of course Julie had not; but rather than betray her ignorance of what must be a gorgeous palace of delight, she nodded a sharp affirmative. Without actually pledging herself to an avowed intention of breaking away from the dull rut of routine and jumping boldly into an incarnadined future, Julie wanted to Sip, to taste the golden, bubbling wine chaliced in the phrase: “Having a good time.” . Even if she had known the Mogolia was a tawdry, gilded web where man-beasts jazzed and wishy-washy vamps mingled 391 sneering with tenderfoot neophytes like her- Self, Julie would probably have gone just the same. ad CHAPTER III. MINDS OF THE GREAT. RTIE hailed a taxi, and right away bestowed a new experience on the girl and—she felt safer. There was no chance now of her being followed. Her big, blue eyes stole a sidelong glance at her companion. As symbolizing easy op- portunity, he looked quite harmless. Quite attractive, indeed. Opportune Artie; how well he suited the unweighed need of the moment. He was no blue serge, shiny- elbowed tightwad, neither was he a pot- bellied, ugly old sport. You bet he knew how to treat a girl. He was no piker. He knew his way about and—didn’t he talk nice? “Fell for you right off the bat, I did, ”? said Artie. “ Gee, but I was scaréd stiff you'd hand me the fadeaway. Reckon I’m in luck to meet up with a looker like you. Bet you the bunch at the Mog 1 open their eyes some, I'll tell the world. What say we take in a show later on?” “How you do talk,” giggled Julie. _“ Sure,” agreed Artie: ‘“ Quick talk and quick action’s my motter. No sense in wastmg time. Life’s too short.” The girl’s exclamation was but an in- voluntary murmur, but Artie pounced on it. “What?” he asked. “ Nothing. That is, nothing much. I was just thinking, that’s all.” “ Thinking!” Artie pondered this for a moment. Girls who thought were hardly in his line. The brilliance of his smile toned down a bit. His glance showed a trifle of distrust. Had he made a mistake in his estimation of this girl? Was she after all a mollycoddle, a prude? You never could tell with some of ’em.' Some- times the smart lookers were dubs, and sometimes the dubs were the fly birds. <A feller never could be quite sure. Artie looked at Julie’s mouth. He was no physi- ognomist or an analyst of character writ in ecomiclooolks (CO