Argosy All-Story Weekly — page 23: what you’re looking at

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

THE FOURTH CHUM. other was a pile of coal reaching to within six feet of the coping, and above the top of that wall showed the hump of the larger pile of fuel in the coal yard. The batman sat down and looked at that black pile in the corner. A tall man could get to the top of the wall by means of it and drop into the coal yard. That was locked, but the old soldier who conducted it was not formidable. A tall man, like the Yank, could get to the top of the wall without a leap. He sat nursing the warm bowl between his knees and spread the jam on his bread. The tall prisoner was coming to be more and more of a factor in his plans. “Damn ’im,” whispered the batman, “* [ll knife ’im for ’em if I ’ave to!” His fellow prisoner appeared in the door- way, balancing his bow] of tea on his bread. He crossed the yard as a rope walker might, and the batman‘s eye ran up the long, mus- cular legs, the thin-waisted, broad-chested trunk, to the well-shaped head. This was the first time the batman had had a clear view of his man, and his mottled eye was keen. His first judgment was that Morgan would be an ugly customer in a fight—he looked like a boxer, big as any man in the garrison, but quick. What a sight he must be in a shell jacket, boots, and the fur cap of the regiment! It was no wonder that there had been that lurking friendliness in Todd’s voice when he spoke. And he was young—not much more than a lad—but the face was curiously bitter. Melancholy and indifference marked it. The batman moved over hospitably as the tall soldier reached the bench, and the other sat down. “ What are you in for?” he asked in a gentle drawl. “ Sluggin’ the dining ’all bombardier.” Morgan looked at him and whistled. “ Why didn’t you jump in front of a gun team and be done with it?” “°E’s a bloke that always did myke me see red. I got fed up with ‘im.’ ~ Morgan was silent for a full five min- utes, in which he was busy with his bread and tea. Then he turned to the batman with a curious smile. t 649 “T used to feel that way, too, son. I used to think I was a man with a real soul, but I got over it. You will, too, when you’ve been in long enough. It doesn’t do a guy any harm, though,” he finished, “to find out that he isn’t the irresistible force he thinks he is. Were you drunk?” “ec No.”’ “I was, the first time I tried it. You must be an overseas man—Canadian or Australian.” ‘No. I’m cockney, born within sound of Bow Bells—almost.” “Then you're crazy,” said the other: ‘““Any man who slugs his superior officer in this man’s army without being a colonial is either drunk or crazy.” With that he leaned his head against the wall, folded his arms over his chest, and closed his eyes. The batman hated him. ‘“Angelsey "Il get me out,” he said in a loud voice. “I’m ’is batman. ’E’s told me time and agayn there wasn’t anybody that could get the shine on leather and brass that I can. J’ll polish up your but- tons while I’m in clink. Give me your tunic some time, mate, and I’ll myke the buttons look like they was gold.” ‘“‘ No, thanks,” returned Morgan in a dis- tant voice. He stretched, got up, and began to shadow box. He danced a dozen paces on the rough stones, feinting, guarding and striking. The batman listened to the whish of the big fists through the air, and a chill went up his spine. But suddenly the man went limp all over. He stopped dead in his tracks and his arms fell to his sides. He stood with his head bowed. “Ere,” said the batman, getting up; “Tl wrestle you, soldier.” He had never wrestled, and he hated all sports, but it was in his mind that in wres- tling he might be able to pick the tall sol- dier’s pockets. He put out his arms awk- wardly, but the other man recoiled and put up a hand. “No!” he said violently. ‘“ No!” “ Righto,” answered the batman, and - dropped back, puzzled by the other’s emo- tion. Morgan shivered and pressed his hares Comicbooks (EO) in