Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 114: what you’re looking at

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

252 making up their easy lies. But he noted that they both had their guns drawn. “Seen any signs of an attack?” “None. She came alone. Not a boat anywheres.” “Very well, then. I'll tend to the little skit, the sweet-voiced little mop- sey! The little bat! But meanwhile we got to get on our way. I'll send Brass up to take your place. Then you two come down and get your share of what gold we've got. It’s plenty.” “Aye, aye, sir. It’s best we get goin’. We must be up in the tule swamps afore mornin,” the boy said. “Keep a sharp lookout till Brass comes. ‘The skit might of tricked us.” He left them, and the two luckless devils had no inkling of the white-hot fury consuming their master. Nor did they see him glance out of the corner of his fishy eyes at the dark space be- tween foremast and hatchway. In that one glance Swope caught sight of a corner of a flowered carpet bag. He was satisfied. Still keeping his discovery to himself, he headed for - the companionway. The girl fled on down the compan- ionway before him. She was assured that up on deck all was well. Dorsey would play his final card at the right time. Meanwhile, she must hasten to her father. In the steerage, Swope ordered Brass to relieve the other two guards. “No calking off now, Brass,’ he warned. “ There may yet be an at- tack, And I’ll be down here—don’t know how long.” | “ We got to hurry and be off, Swope —I’m beggin’ you,” Brass said. “Go above, and watch sharp.” Brass left, and a moment later the negro and the doughboy came below. The negro was furtive, anxious, his huge lips trembling. He was sniffling like a porker that smells a potato un- derground. He hung his head and peered upward from under overhang- ing brows at Swope. ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. The boy’s face was a marked con- trast—pale but triumphant, with al- most humorous eyes. He wore a smirk as if to say: “Thought you could hold out on my share, did you? Well, I put a good one over on you this time, Mr. Swope.” ‘“T’ve got your share in here, Hiram my boy,” Swope said, standing at the door of the captain’s cabin. ‘‘ Come on in.” “Tn there?” : A cloud passed over the boy’s fore- head. Swope was pointing into the cap- tain’s cabin. “ Shake a leg, get in there, son,” he said in a brotherly, jovial way. He put his arm about the boy. “A good share for you, Hiram. You are a right sharp little partner. A good bit, enough to last you your life. You won’t be a whaler’s steward any more. No, sir!” \ With a friendly slap on the back he urged the boy in. Stepping in after him, Swope closed the door gently. The girl, who had seen this drama from the steerage, came to the door, leading her father by the arm. The old skipper followed submissive- ly in a dumb stupor, not knowing what the girl knew—that Dorsey was on board, and that, consequently, victory was at hand. The girl’s one desire now was to get to the deck with her father. But as she stepped out of the steerage door she saw the looming form of Slushy, the cook, who barred her way. Not that Slushy was paying any par- ticular attention to her. He was more concerned with getting his half of the swag. He was impatient at the delay. Why had Swope taken them in separately? Why had he closéd the door? “ Dividin’ it up to suit his Lord Almighty self!” the negro muttered. “Gwine to trick the little kid, and don’t want fo’ me to see? All right. Trick him all you want. He won’t ob- (E@) micgbooks (E@)