Argosy All-Story Weekly, Vol. 123, No. 4 — page 154: what you’re looking at

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

660 and then a stranger entered. A big, husky ‘fellow, who might have been the man Rudy Kizer had met on Market Street. It later turned out he was. ‘“‘What’s the matter with you, Donlin?” he says sharply to Leander Lucas. The latter stopped, and stared at the newcomer a coupla seconds. Then he says, with a timid smile: ** Oh, hello, Charlie! I—oh, hello!” - “‘ Been away from home quite a long time now, Donlin,” says Charlie. “I sure have had my work findin’ you. Ready to go back now?” “This is Leander Lucas Smith,” I butt in. ‘ Who were you lookin’ for?” ‘Leander Lucas nothin’! I know who I’m lookin’ for, friend. And he knows, too. Don’t you, Donlin?” ‘Yes, Charlie,’ comes submissively. “¢ What’s the big idea, anyhow?”’ I gargle. “ This guy is a nut, that’s all. Escaped from the State insane asylum in Illinois a few months ago, after layin’ out a guard or two. He’s crazy!”’ “ Crazy?” Joe and I are all ina | heap. “T should say he is. But he’s cunnin’. For weeks he’ll be as rational as they make ’em, and then he’ll suddenly go bugs. How long have you known him?”’ “‘ Why, he’s been playin’ ball for a semi- pro club I manage,’ I utter. “ The best hitter I ever saw—as long as he wore pink glasses.” “Yeh, I saw him to-day. He went nuts when those glasses were busted. I suppose he told you they helped him in his battin’, didn’t he?” “He said they were patterned after the slow camera, and—”’ “ Ha-ha!” laughs Charlie. “ He’s got a great imagination. when he cuts loose, - haven’t you, Donlin? I remember those glasses when he was with the patients’ team at the asylum. Told them you got them from an inventor, didn’t you?” “Yes, Charlie.” “I don’t know where he did get ’em,” Charlie explains, “ but it’s all bunk about slow cameras and all that stuff. They were nothin’ but colored glass.” “ But—he hit like a demon,” I says. “ It has been remarkable the way he’s batted ARGOSY-ALLSTORY WEEKLY. this season. And he said it was the glasses that did it. I know one time he mislaid them and couldn’t hit a barn.” “‘ Oh, he can hit as well without glasses as with ’em, but I suppose the psychology of the thing is that he had invested the specs with wonderful powers and kidded himself into thinkin’ he couldn't hit unless he wore them. ” “ He sure kidded himself into a swell bat- tin’ average then,” comments Joe Strong. Charlie, the guard, stared at us. ““T guess you guys don’t know who this bird really is?” he says. We did not, and admitted the same. “Well, this is Donlin—the famous Ping Donlin, who hit around .350 in the big. league for two seasons. He went bugs from consumin’ liquid refreshments and was sent to the asylum. “Hit? Say, the sport writers used to write books about his mighty swattin’!”’ ‘‘T do remember somethin’ about it now,” Joe puts in. “ About three years ago he lost his mind, wasn’t it?” “Yes, I think it was. No wonder he could hit like a world-beater playin’ semi- pro baseball. It wasn’t really the pink glasses that had anythin’ to do with it ex- cept probably give him confidence. The natural ability is there. A bird who hits .350 in the big time—say, what oughtn’t he do out in the sagebrush?” “T want my glasses, Charlie,” suddenly erupts Ping Donlin, alias Leander Lucas Smith. ‘‘ Find my glasses, Charlie!” “All right, Ping—I know where they are. We'll go and get ’em right away,” says the guard. “ Good-by, gents. Sorry to rob your team of its star slugger, but they’re hankerin’ for.him back in Illinois. “He won’t be much good until he finds some new glasses or somethin’, anyhow. Let’s go, Donlin!”’ That was the last anybody connected with the Ferry Mills flourmakers ever saw of our wonderful hitter, but many’s the time since then I’ve wished I had a coupla guys wearin’ pink glasses on the club, goofy or not. However, if wishes were base knocks my whole squad would be hittin .450, anyhow, so what’s the use?