Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 4, 1925 — page 158: what you’re looking at

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

948 estic passes with his hands over Clem’s sleeping face. ‘Awake! Awake!” booms Joe. “ I com- mand you to awake! Arise and return to the bosom of your friends in Duckout!” Clem, bracing himself with his hands against the side of the box, manages to raise his head and shoulders a wee bit. ‘Gimme a drink,” he mutters weakly, then flops back in the box, a total loss. “ Bravo!” shouts Joe, “‘ the experiment has been a wonderful success! Naturally, the subject is a trifle weak from his long sojourn in the earth, and from a lack of food. However, you will read all about it in the next edition of your local paper. Meantime, I thank you one and all for your kind attention, and you may pass out through the front entrance. Good night, everybodee!”’ After the customers had drifted out, thinking Lord knows what, we picked up Clem and sat him on a chair. A moment later a shrewd looking gent looms up to- ward us out of the darkness and speaks a little piece. ‘“T represent the Huckleberry County Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Cats,” he opens up, flashing some sort of badge. “Well, I can’t help that!’ says Joe. ‘You are under arrest for mistreating a black cat. You cut a few bunches of fur off his back, and then placed him in that box without food and water. Our society will not tolerate such things. The fine is fifty dollars or ten days in jail. Take your choice!”’ A snappy customer, eh? ‘“T don’t know anything about the cat,” fumes Joe. “The darn critter must of sneaked down the hole when I wasn’t look- ing. How about it, Clem?” “Don’t know anything about it, only the cat was down there clawin’ at my neck, that’s all J know.” “There’s the proof,” says the stranger. ‘He can be a witness. You won't have a chance in court. You're in serious trouble, T tell you. We won’t stand for such cruelty in this county!” Well, to amputate a long story, to save THE ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. the time and trouble of going to court, we slips him the fifty dollars fine and told ’im to beat it. Having cleaned up a small for- tune on the show, we felt in good humor; otherwise we would have razzed that bird clean out of the tent! So that was all settled. However, kindly remain seated for another moment and see the finish. It was good! Half an hour after Clem had left us, we strolled out of the tent, down the Midway, and then made a short cut through a lot directly across from the show grounds. Be- hind an old barn we note a light flickering in the inky darkness. As we got nearer, we heard a pair of familiar voices, and then saw our two friends, Mr. Clem Clinker and the stranger. Clem is holding a roll of bills and doing a little act in common division. ‘““There’s ten for you,” he’s saying, ‘‘ and there’s ten for me. Thare’s another ten for you and one for me. I guess we're pretty good showmen ourselves, hey, Charlie?” ‘“ Sure,” says Charlie, or the ‘“‘ officer,” “we're world-beaters! And it’s a good thing you managed to get that cat down in the hole with you, ain’t it? And I’m glad you told me Sweeney clipped off that fur. Oh, bov! Go ahead—pass me some more dough, Clem!” In a flash, Joe has his coat off, his sleeves rolled up, and he’s in the midst be- fore they knew what hit ’em. As he socked away, he passes out a few remarks. ‘“There’s one for you!” he says, tapping Clem on the chin with a torrid right. ‘** And there's one for thee!” he gocs on, smacking Charlie on the nose. ‘ There's another for you!”’ and Clem gets one on the left ear. ‘‘ And here’s another for thee!” and Charlie receives a peach on the button. ‘‘ There’s—” Tive minutes later Joe satisfies his lust for revenge and we head through the nicht for the hotel. “Well, I guess we’re some clever show- men, eh?” I kids, as we walk along. ‘World beaters, what?” ‘“ World beaters—bah!”’ snorts Professor Dr. Joseph Sweeney. ‘‘ Take it from me, doc, there’s a sucker showman born every minute—and two boobs to take ’im!”’ How about it, Mr. Barnum? END GIOok