Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 73: what you’re looking at

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

ALIAS THE ANGLEWORM. but because, for the moment he had rein- carnated from the angleworm back to Ulysses. This must be the last time he would see this adorable girl, and he resolved, then and there, to make it the last. To make it the last he must not say anything which might make her feel that he didn’t want it to be the last. Marshal Tredway finally accepted his invitation to ‘“‘ come round in front.” He repeated the official attempt to confirm a story told him, for-and-in-consideration-of one-dollar-to-her-in-dirty-hand-paid-lawful- money-of-the-United-States, legally speak- ing, at the time of payment, and now “ aw- _ ful’? money because it had got him into an awful situation. Right there, Marshal Tom began to sus- ‘pect every one but the man he was search- ing futilely. He began with Mr. Bugbee. Mr. Bugbee had done things this night that no living man had ever seen done before by Mr. ‘Bugbee. The only thing up Jimmy’ s coat-sleeve was his shirt-cuff. Neither was there any other semblance of a gun on him anywhere. Still,. while things had “ gang agley ” for the marshal of Coalport, he was far from being as dumb as he looked. ; The Sicilian crone had her faults. But, she wouldn’t dare lie to Tom Tredway, not even to, get a dollar, because he had been instrumental in getting her a sus- pended sentence for a petty theft, and she was nominally in his custody “ on proba- tion.” Besides, he had promised her nothing when he had told her to keep an eye on Jimmy, from her vantage point of the Olympian Theater’s front, while he “ shad- dered ” from the rear. That let out the old crone. . Marshal Tom eyed the chair suspiciously. He was trying to figure things out. The crone hadn’t lied. Then Jimmy must have had the gun up his sleeve when leaving the theater. Marshal Tom had started almost at once after the supposed desperado. He had kept him in view two blocks behind, all the way. Jimmy hadn’t done anything but keep on walking with Viv. 415 Marshal Tom had stopped behind the lights at the last crossing and waited be- hind a tree, just out of earshot, and watched Jimmy and Viv look at the stars. Jimmy hadn’t thrown the gun up to stick on the face of the moon—that much was certain. He had merely walked to the porch. Marshal Tom eyed the chair suspiciously. It had slender legs, a veneered seat, save where clusters of brass tacks festooned it, but no gun was to be seen on, under, or near it. Marshal Tom pulled his electric torch and searched the floor. While he did this, Jimmy said: “The north star seems to be able to hold itself in place again, and I don’t want my tea to get any colder than your trail. Here goes!” Without waiting for permission, he low- ered his arms and drank, with the chastened air of an angleworm bravo who has just come to grief. Marshal Tom came back. an apology, sir.” . Jimmy looked toward Vivian. stepped closer. “Mr. Stuart, may I present Mr. Tred- way, who is officially the marshal of Coal- port?”’ Jimmy grasped the extended hand. “ My dear old King 8 Brady, I envy you. I never had a chance’ in my whole life to fall off the cover and run amuck! Please take a chair!” | He thrust the rocker forward, and Mr. Tredway complied. Then he tipped up his own for close in- spection, apparently. “I was enjoying this chair of mine so much before the north star began to teeter and threaten to ruin everything—you saw how I had to hold it up? Well, as I was saying, I was enjoying this chair, so much! “It has the loveliest brass tacks all through it. They’re like old friends—those tacks. They seem so much like the paper- fasteners I use in business. Heads just the same. See? You could hardly tell them apart.” He gravely held out another of the fasten- ers, tilted back his chair, and resumed his “T owe you She Seat. The city marshal of Coalport might have COM cloooks. com