Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

THE KENTUCKY WONDER, himself an’ his ham tuh this man’s town, right now!” Tod reached for the letter file, found the address, and had just finished the telegram when the door opened. Both he and Wal- den turned their eyes to examine the visitor, and the next moment Walden’s thin-soled, cream-topped shoes hit the floor. ‘ Carrigan!”” he roared, stumbling for- ward and grasping the visitor’s hand. “ Hooray f’r Carrigan!” Carrigan shook his big gray-rimmed head. “Can th’ hoorays, Walden,” he growled, ‘an’ bring on th’ flowers——-what y’r lampin’ is th’ sad r’mains!” Walden’s face clouded. “ What’s th’ matter; things ain’t breakin’ right?” “Yuh said it all,” Carrigan groaned, dropping into a chair. “ Me an’ K. Q. Burns is done!” ‘* D-d-d-done!” Walden gasped, swallow- ing the balance of his smile. ‘‘ W-w-w- why, I thought you two was thicker’n hell?” ‘“ We was,” Carrigan admitted, ‘“‘ but no more—an’ here’s why.”’ He slouched deep- er into the chair, lit one of Walden’s cigars, and began his story. “Last month I packs myself an’ K. O. down to New Orle’ns. Th’ pickin’ looks good, an’ in a couple o’ days we're signed fr ten frames with a bird named Kentucky “Kid. A double up an’ down o’ this said Kid’s gool-knockin’ av’rage tells us he’s kay- oin’ round two fifty—nothin’ but hicks, though; an’ while we figures him easy, we don’t take no chances. K. O. goes in train- in’ like he’s signed tuh do a one-step with Dempsey, f’r a half int’rest in th’ Nati’nal Bank. He takes tuh th’ climate like a cockroach; eats up th’ road work like a Packard, an’ outa his sparrin’ partners makes pie f’r th’ beauty doctors! ‘In a week’s time K. O. is right in the pink; so I figures th’ best way tuh collect is tuh unbutton th’ bank roll an’ take ever’- thing in sight. This ain’t hard tuh do, an’ [ place ten thousan’ loud-speakin’ iron men that says Kentucky Kid’s a big bean. Blaah! Then what does this K. O. baby o’ mine do but fall f’r one o’ them long, narrer-gaged, stately Southern damoseis! Yes, sir, shot th’ chutes like a crooked dis- trict attorney! 631 “Yuh never saw such a change in a bird. He’s sure one goofy baby, but I figures him tuh come clean—an’ don’t worry none. One mornin’ I’m out lookin’ th’ country over tuh see where I’m gonna invest all th’ easy jack, an’ I run into him doin’ his road work like he’s presticin’ pall-bearin’. I kinda kid him "bout it, but that afternoon when I seen him workin’ out with th’ gloves—he- lieve me, mister, I get interested. This K. O. baby o’ mine has been stung so hard with Cupid’s dart—he all but kisses his sparrin’ partners! “He slows up on his trainin’ f’r a week, tryin’ tuh kid me he don’t wanna go stale. But his chatter don’t listen good, an’ I try tuh change his tune. What I say tuh him mixes like a wop at a Mick party. He’s a love-sick idiot; an’ by th’ night that th’ fisticuffs comes off, I’m shakin’ like a hop head, an’ wishin’ I’d sunk my jack f’r a half-int’rest with Baron Long at Tia Juana. ‘“That’s just the way I feel the night o’ th’ fight, but I can’t help it, an’ even when I sees th‘ turnout—I’m wishin’ it was all over. This Kentucky Kid draws th’ crowd like m’lasses leads on th’ flies. Th’ house is packed tighter’n a new deck o’ cards; an’ from what JI gather outa th’ chatter, th’ gang expects tuh see K. O. Burns embalmed! “Me an’ K. O. has it doped that th’ massacre begins with th’ nine o’clock cur- few, so we hits th’ abatoir "bout nine five. Th’ gang razzes my boy; but K. O. comes back with a he-movie smile an’ kinda perks me up by tellin’ me he’s so right he could tie a knot in a wildcat’s tail! “Bout nine fifteen th’ Bluegrass Kid we're mixin’ with comes down th’ aisle; an’, believe me, mister, if that bird’s packin’ any overweight, he sure lost it shaken hands on th’ way tuh th’ ring. An’ noise—say, f'm th’ roar th’ crowd makes, I ain’t sure but I’m hearin’ th’ echo of th’ last republi- can convention. I expects this; an’ I hand K. O. th’ big wink, meanin’—if them howl- in’ wolves can cry like they yells—there’s gonna be a cloudburst soon! “ Th’ reg’ment f’m Ole Kentuck follows their pride through th’ ropes, an’ me an’ K. O. kinda anxious tuh lamp th’ pop’lar gladiator, stretch our necks. Bein’ kinda short, I don’t see much; so I climb up on a GComichbooks.com