The Argosy, August 1914 — page 81: what you’re looking at

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

NOBODY LOVES A LOSER. Jack. “ My conduct last Sunday was unusual, to put it mildly. But I won't run to-day.” He threw his coat far from him and, stepping up to Horlock, slapped him_ smartly on the cheek with his open palm. “There, you big stiff!” he cried. “That for the blow you gave me in the automobile that night. And now— time! ” Sam Levine was taking his Sunday morning ease on the piazza of the training camp. His coat was off, the inevitable “‘dry smoke” adorned the corner of his mouth, and a two-days’ old newspaper was outspread on his knees. He felt at peace with the whole world. Hurrying footsteps up the path aroused him. He raised his eyes to the figure of a girl who, breathless and clinging to the porch-post for support, cried : “Are you Mr. Levine? ” “Well?” he said non-committally, dropping his feet from the rail in ac- knowledgment of a lady’s presence. “T want Mr. Levine—Sam Levine —quick!” the girl went on. “ Where is hé? ”’ “Right here. What can I do for you?” Sam replied, finding no advan- tage in concealment of identity. “You must come—right away,” the girl panted. ‘‘ Down on the beach— Butch—he’s being beaten up. Quick —quick ! ” This unexpected statement had the effect of stirring Levine out of his habitual phlegm. He jumped to his feet and chal- lenged the bearer of tidings. “Butch Horlock getting beat up?” he repeated. ‘“‘ How’s that? How many of them are there?” “Only one. Oh, why don’t you hurry?” “With a club? Is somebody beat- ing him with a club? Say, what you talking about, anyway? ”’ “No, not with a club. With fists,” A said the girl. “I saw it from the top of the cliff. If you’re fot coming I must run back. Oh, it’s terrible! ”’ Sam perceived that no good was derivable from further questioning. Nevertheless, he was unable to recon- cile the girl’s declaration with known facts. If there was only one assailant of his fighting man, and he using bare fists, he considered alarm unfounded. Incredulity was written on his face. The girl, reading it, made one final appeal. * Are you coming?”’ she demanded. ““ Because if you’re not—” “ All right—I’m coming,” Sam re- plied. The girl looked sane enough, and it saddened him that so pretty a young woman should be thus tainted. His varied stock of information in- cluded the dictum that it was well to humor crazy folks. So he followed her lead down the path, through a turnstile in the stone wall, and across the fields. By the curving beach it was some distance to the spot where Jack and the Butcher had met, but to the brink of the cliff was only a step. There was a drop of some seventy-five feet from its edge to the water. “ Right down there,” said the girl, pointing. ‘ Look—I don’t dare—look and tell me if Butch has been killed.” Sam Levine threw himself on a well- cushioned stomach and looked down. The spectacle which met his eyes held him spellbound. The effect was that of looking at the Metropolitan Opera House stage from the topmost gallery. The two figures dancing around one another on the hard sand floor were curiously fore- shortened. He assured himself at the first glance, however, that one, as the girl had said, was that of Butch Hor-_ lock. Who the other was he could not de- termine immediately. The first impres- sion he received was that it was a real fight, and on both sides was being con- ducted according to the ethics of the ring. COnnieoooks (C@