Argosy All-Story Weekly, December 4, 1926 — page 165: what you’re looking at

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

WILLIE OFF the Mauretania before I connected with this job.” !' “Do you care for your position here? I asked. He answered: ‘ Not bad. Not so much money in it, but it’s easy, and you don't have to wait on a lot of fat, seasick women.” I moved away then. My mother is fat, and she had crossed on the Mauretania once or twice, and she is always seasick. It was only a short time later when I began to get good and sore. Three times in succession I saw the pickle-boat sheik dancing with Edith, and one of the dances was mine. I tried to cut in, but Edith waved me off. So I went out where the punch was and told Tom Hobart that something ought to be done about it. Tom said: “The best thing to do is nothing. Let it run its course. You know how girls get a kick out of amusing themselves with a new man, even if he’s nothing more than a ditch digger. If he takes it seriously, it’s his own fault and the penalty for being the sort of person he is.”’ I helped myself to punch and remarked: “ Perhaps you are right.” But three nights later when I drifted over to see Edith, who should I find, right there on the porch, bold as life, but Willie? Which was bad enough in itself without all the rest. It seems that Willie was trying to make something of himself, as Edith put it to me afterward in a rather stormy session we had, and he had been reading Boswell’s “Life of Johnson.” He admitted straight out that he was doing it to improve his mind. And it so happened that Edith had read the book through twice. I hadn’t. So 1 had to sit there for almost two hours twiddling my fingers while they prattled about the thing. No matter how often I tried to switch on them, they got back to it, and finally I felt that Edith was imposing on me. I got up and said: “I think I'll be off. I’ve got some thrilling chapters in Kant’s “Critique of Pure Reason’ that I want to read before bedtime.” With that I walked away. ? THE PICKLE BOAT. 475 Edith called after me, “ Ware the old brain-fag, Marvin.” Which did not help any, V. Arter that the other fellows saw as I did—that something ought to happen which would put this upstart in his place. Mat- ters went from bad to worse. Willie butted in everywhere with his red hair and freckles ——to say nothing of that imbecilic grin of his. And the season had a full month to go yet. If he had not singled out Edith Kenny for his attentions, we might have worried on until the fall and let it go at that. But it got so that he was running up there two or three times a week—once, four times. And then our bunch held a council of war. I was for going to Seastrom and putting it up to him that he must get rid of Willie or lose our trade; and if that didn’t work, we could offer him a decent sum of money to fire his helper. We were considering that when Tom Hobart crashed in with the real scheme, He pointed out that the fellow might park himself somewhere around the lake, even if he did lose his job. He had nerve enough for anything. No. Something ought to be pulled that would get under his skin and humiliate him in the eyes of the girls. So we worked it out then and there. On the next Thursday night we put our plan into effect. Willie used the footpath through the side grounds of the Kenny place, and at one point the trail leads past a high rock so that there is a blind spot there. And well before the time came for Willie to show up, our bunch concealed themselves at that spot. We had cut holes in pillow cases and put them over our heads just as a simple pre- caution. We didn’t worry about getting into trouble, because our families’ influence would pull us out of any scrape we might find ourselves in as a result of our scheme. Also, we agreed not to speak during the whole proceeding. Willie came sauntering along about nine o’clock. That was as early as he could get CORNICLOOOKS ‘Oo Le? a