Argosy All-Story Weekly, May 5, 1928 — page 85: what you’re looking at

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

RED at the masts. A man was coming down the deck with the wide stride of a sea- farer. It was too dark to distinguish him, but Les made out that he had whiskers, wore overalls, and an ancient yachting cap. “Here we are, captain,” said the first of their captors. “These are the bimbos?’’ queried the man with a mean Jaugh. “ Bring them along.” He turned and led the way aft, walk- ing upon a narrow bridge which was built over the rows of oil tanks. The others followed, holding to a light steel handrail. Presently they arrived at the deck house; the captain jerked open a door and motioned them inside. They found themselves in a room about twenty feet square, a dining table with six revolv- ing chairs occupying part of the space alongside a buffet, containing a dish of fruit, and a couple of big leather chairs which looked comfortable. The salon was clean, its steel walls white en- ameled. “Tt might be worse,” whispered Chipmunk. But worse was to come. ‘The cap- tain opened a door at the far end of the cabin, revealing a narrow. steel staircase, and motioned to them to descend. ‘Look here, captain,” cried Arthur, “these men have made us prisoners and brought us here at the point of a eun. You're going to get yourself in- to a peck of trouble—” “Get below,” roared the captain, and his face was so menacing in the comparatively bright light of the cabin that the prisoners did not stop to pro- test further. They descended hastily and found themselves in a small room about eight feet by twelve which con- tained a double berth, a couple of camp stools, and nothing more. A single electric bulb hung from a wire in the center of the room. There , was no porthole, but a small square . grille high in the after wall which evi- HOT. 651 dently provided some kind of ventila- tion. Crash. It was the steel door at the head of the ladder which had closed with a bang. The two young men regarded each other for a moment. ‘“ Well,” sighed Chipmunk, “this ought to hold us.” Lester dropped upon one of the camp stools and buried his face in his hands. “Cheer up. Maybe the ship won’t sink,’ said Arthur, laying an encourag- ing hand upon the shoulder of his friend. Les looked up. “I’m just trying to think,” he explained. “ What on earth is this all about? Why should they go to so much trouble to get us into a place like this? They haven’t even robbed us. We might be armed for all they know, and we have money.” “I suppose that will come later. They are under the impression that you are John Jacob Asterbilt and I am Cor- nelius Vanderpool, and when they find out the truth they'll apologize to us.” “ Don’t try to be funny. ‘They know who we are. They grabbed us as we were closing up the frankfurter stand.” Colter was wandering around the room. He thumped on the walls and tried to look into the ventilator. CHAPTER XVIII. THE PENNYWEIGHT OF PLATINUM. “PRS a mighty tight little jail,” he opined. “ [ wonder if the idea is to give us a sea voyage. I bet you could get beautifully seasick in this hole. It’s what they use for a dungeon, I suppose. Very pretty, I Say.” “The ingeniousness of it!’ ex- claimed Les. “ Even the police wouid not think of looking on board an oil barge for persons who disappeared in New York. If we only could surmise what they have gone to all this trouble for.” COPMICGLOOKS (F@