Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 11: what you’re looking at

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

BING, BANG, BOOM! and his shame less burning had he heard another statement that Jasper Boom had made that evening when endeavoring to reconcile Mrs. Boom to the departure of her pampered son to parts unkn8wn. “You don’t have to worry yourself about that boy, Mary! _He’s twenty-four years old and he’s a Boom—and he'll take care of himself. I was tickled to death when I heard he’d bought that worthless hotel, or whatever it is, so that I could kick him out, cut him loose from our apron-strings, and get him away from the influences in this city that kept him from showing the stuff that was in him. When he comes back to you, he’s going to be a man, and not a thoughtless kid. “You mark my words, Mary; he’s got the world to fight now, and he'll fight it the way he used to fight on the gridiron at college—and make you marvel how such a lazy kid could work so painfully hard just to win a footfall game! He’s got fight in him, that boy has, and though I haven’t the slightest ‘idea what he’s going to buck up against, I'll bet my good right arm that he’ll win out!’” - But Bert, speeding at that time on a westbound train, was unaware of this pa- ternal boast that would have filled his heart to bursting with pride. He felt that he bad broken his mother’s heart, had shat- tered his father’s faith in him, had been cast out in the deepest disgrace and humili- ~ation. Well, he thought now, as he stared sight- lessly from his window, he would show them that he wasn’t all bad! He’d make them as proud of him as they were now ashamed! With only five thousand dollars in ‘his pocket—that sum seemed pitifully small to Bert—and a worthless, abandoned hotel to work with, his task loomed gigantic. But he hadn’t begun to fight yet! The “ stuff in him” that Jasper Boom had eulogized was very near to the surface and just about to bubble over into action! Bert’s thoughts now centered upon Tur- ner, the tall, soft-voiced, bland and blond man who had shattered the world about Bert’s head. He experienced a grim satis- faction in the knowledge that Turner lived in Selma. He had a little debt to square S17 with him, and he wanted him near at hand. Until that morning, when he had spoken with the quaint station-master, he had not the least idea where Turner might be found. After he had cashed Bert’s check, he had* vanished from Bert’s life as suddenly as he had entered it. Bert was rescued from these unpleasant reflections by Sudden and unusual signs of activity in the. street belew. In his abstraction he had heard only sub- consciously the deep, vibrant clanging of a bell that was rolling over the vil- lage. Several automobiles rattled to a stop before the hotel. Red-lettefed canvas hid the shabbiness of their exteriors, and the men who occupied them bore hand-signs which they held aloft. In their wake was a crowd of sunbon- netted women, straw-hatted, shirt-sleeved men, and a surprising number of barehead- ed, freckle-faced children. People began to emerge from the shops, and, joining those who were already in the street, formed a ring about the aucomonnes and their occu- ts. Bert, startled by this mushroomlike gath- ering of citizens, watched the proceedings curiously. He guessed at once that it was a political mass-meeting of a sort. So much he could deduce from the gaudy banners: ‘Jonas Warren for Sheriff”; “ Noah Spigot for Prosecuting Attorney ”; “ Elect Men Who Will Serve You Best.” He re- called now that he had seen similar printed cards in the corners of the shop-windows on his way to the Palace Hotel. The summoning bell stopped suddenly, its last peal lingering in the air as if loath to be silenced; a hush fell upon the assembly. Every one waited expectantly while the men in the machines, whose faces were shielded from Bert by the signs they carried, whis- pered a moment among themselves. Then one of the men rose to his feet and faced his audience—a tall, blond man, who smiled confidently down upon the upturned faces, giving an anticipatory clearing to his throat, and slowly rubbing together the palms of his white hands. At sight of him, Bert’s heart leaped, and instinctively he changed his hands to hard- ened fists. For the face and figure that ] eer ON ANU MG NOOK CO