The Argosy, August 1914 — page 20: what you’re looking at

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

10 Looking beyond the girl, and rapid- ly becoming frozen with surprise, Jack’s eyes fell for the first time on her companion. He could have fallen from his perch with amazement at seeing Butch Horlock. “What is it?” Vesta demanded again. “* Quick—we’re on our way to Rivington Inn.” ‘““T—I just wanted to see you to- night, Vesta,” Jack stammered. ** What time will you be honte? ” “ Never—to you,” said the girl with cutting emphasis. ‘* Aw, it’s that hunk o’ cheese, is it?” added Butch wearily. “Say, girlie, tell him to beat it before I get mad and poke him again.” “ That’s right,’’ Vesta supplemented. “You beat it. And if you want some- thing to chew on, just remember that nobody loves a loser,” Jack Garrett-was very young and bumptious, or he had not put himself in the way of the added pain of this interview. His inexperience, also, may account for his effort to prolong an 1m- possible situation. “But, Vesta—” he began, with an idea of submitting the sad state of his suffering heart. This he was not permitted to do. It had entered the Butcher’s mind and Vesta’s that the conversation had con- tinued long enough. Simultaneously ~ the traffic policeman’s whistle sounded and the chauffeur threw in his clutch with a jerk. “ Say, you get t’ hell out o’ here—do you understand? ”’ snarled the Butcher. With the words he leaned torward across Vesta and planted a stiff blow in Jack Garrett's chest. At the same mo- ment Vesta slapped him savagely on the cheek. The combined jolt of the car’s start- ing, the blow in the chest, and the girl's insult threw Jack from his perch on the running-board. For a fraction of a second he lay prostrate in the street, in imminent peril of hurrying wheels. When he had picked himself up the gray car had passed far beyond reach. _words were seared on his brain. THE ARGOSY. Blind with shame and rage, he made his way to the sidewalk and, with a dim idea of getting away from those who had witnessed his repulse, hurried west along Forty-Second Street. His brain rioted with savage impulses. He wanted to kill and rend and burn. The smart of Vesta’ Dawn’s soft hand branded his cheek. ‘‘ Nobody loved a loser,” she had said—the anything soothe that smart? As if sent in answer to the question, the bright lights of a corner saloon drew his gaze. Jack had never been much of a drinking man, but to-night his one fear was lest there had not been enough liquor distilled to bring forgetfulness. He found that there had been, ' CHAPTER IV. ADRIFT, Twick before in his life Jack Gar- rett had set out deliberately to break training. These occasions had been during his abbreviated college career. How effectually he-had dissipated the monotony incidental to a football season was written on the books of the university, which recorded that for cer- tain phases of the second episode a stu- dent, whose name as written was John Garrett Follansby, had been requested to depart from the classic precincts of the institution of learning until the college could catch up with him. With the return of aching conscious- ness to\a naturally good set of brains, he acknowledged that in those adoles- cent days he had been the veriest tyro at breaking training. He could have blushed with mortification at the feeble- ness of previous efforts compared with the present had not his attention been occupied by pain which seemed to en- velop him from his crown to the soles of his feet. He opened his gluey lids and quick- ly closed them again. Even the dim light which reached to where he lay ECORMICLOOOKS Could - (C@