Argosy All-Story Weekly, April 14, 1928 — page 149: what you’re looking at

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

RORK AND BEANS. ing up a guy stake and going after Beans. “ By the Great Horn Spoon! Strike me—” With a couple or three squarks, Mr. Beans flaps his wings, takes a scared peck at his master, then races down the sawdust aisle, followed by Salty. As Beans squarked through the marquee, Side-Trap Simpkins was about to enter and the hasty parrot stuck a claw in Side-Trap’s whiskers. “What the—”’ begins Side-Trap, throwing up both hands. Down the lot races Beans, and down the lot goes Salty. I watched ’em until both was out of sight, and even then Beans was still one lap ahead of Mr. Rork. I haven’t seen Salty since, and I know he never caught Beans. Meanwhile I[ rush back into the tent to see what Bess had on her mind. Reaching the bally-stand, I bump into Bandy Baldwin, and that baby is grin- ning from ear to here. “Ape,” I says politely, “ what’s so funny to you?” “ Mebbe [ didn’t put one ovah on Shorty!” he explodes. “ They ain’t no salt watah bird going to get ahead of Bandy!” That is all shorthand, code and stat- ic to me. ; “ Besides the sand fleas,’ I says, “what's biting you? Come clean, you cow-chaser, or I’ll tap you one on the kisser! I got to hop in and square things with Bess, or she'll blow the show. Say something, stupid!” “ Haw, haw!’ cackles the lad. “‘ Did you-all heah what Beans says? Hot stuff, hey? I hope to tell yuh!” I grab up a six-foot stake, spat on my hands, and make arrangements to do some damage. The noble gesture causes the steer-slammer to calm down considerable. “ Hold it, pardner!” he begs. “I just hadda laugh at Salty, honest. He spends a whole week teaching Beans how to say, ‘ Bess, Salty thinks you are a beautiful girl, and he would like bs 287 to marry you.’ But did he say it? Hell, no! I got wise to Salty’s game, and when he was out I taught Beans how to change a few words in the sentence. I shore put one ovah on Salty, hey?” “What a fine set of chilblains you turned out to be!” I snorts, not approv- ing of such tricks. ‘“ D’ver call that a fair way to treat your gal? And do you think that such tactics is going to plant you solid with Bess?” “It shore will,” he says. “‘ Just leave her to me, pardner. I ain’t none of them bashful sailor chaps, like Salty. No, sir; I’m gointa go right in now and propose to Be&s.” At this juncture the marquée shivers and out raves Bess, madder than a gold- fish in a bird cage. “Where’s that idiotic sailor?’ she whoops. “ To think that I should be insulted in such a manner! Oh, I think I’m going to cry!” Bandy steps boldly forward and at- tempts to encircle her in his arms. “Don’t you cry, honey,” soothes the gil. “Til take care of you—for life!” Bess draws back, looks over Bandy and explodes a little bomb of her own. “So yowll protect me!” she steams. “How nice! Listen to me, you dizzy chump, you haven’t sense enough to protect yourself. Besides, if there’s any protecting to be done, I’m sure my own husband can take care of the matter!” This is news to me, as the reporter remarked, after hearing about the man who bit the dog. No kidding, I never knew the lady had a husband, did you? “ Hr—speaking of husbands,”’ I says, cautiously, “‘ just who d’yer mean?” “IT mean,” she. snaps, < Mr, foe Striker. We were married a week ago, last Tuesday. What’s more, I’m leayv- ing this gypsy outfit flat at the end of the week. See if you can get a laugh out of that!’ Bandy, back to the steers! back to the waves! Meanwhile, hold your seats—Beans is about to broadcast his farewell squark. Salty, vDOOK (E@)