The Argosy, August 1914 — page 92: what you’re looking at

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

82 “ 'T’here’s matters to talk over,’’ Sam replied. ‘“‘ Business matters. [—well, fact is I was lookin’ over our accounts and found there was somethin’ due you. Not much —a little,” he added hastily. Jack recognized this for a subter- fuge and smiled to himself. It would do no harm to find out what was in Sam’s mind. The two started off to- gether. They walked ioe some distance without interchange of a word, each a little embarrassed by memory of their last parting. Sam was first to break silence. He surprised his companion by remarking: “You ain’t quite as quick with your mitts as you used, Jack.” “ What’s that?” the young man re- turned. “T say you ain’t quite as quick. Only for that, I don’t see but what you're better than you ever were. Stronger, too, I shouldn’t wonder. You'll have to work with the bag and a sparring partner to get them leads away faster.” Jack, stopping short, stared at him. “What do you know about it?” he demanded. “Me?” returned Sam innocently. He spat out the remnants of his dry smoke. “Oh, nothing much! I just saw you day before yest’day over here on the beach. You know.” ’ It was the young man’s first intima- tion that his encounter with the Butcher had had witnesses. He asked Sam how he happened to have been near the spot. The manager explained. “Young woman comes running up and butts in on my comfort,” said he. “Says her fellow’s being killed with the bare hands down by the sea. Soon as she told me it was Butch, of course I thought she was crazy; but she made me go over, and I saw. That’s all. Wouldn’t take you long to get up speed, I guess, Jack? 2 “Don’t know,” Jack replied briefly. “Who did you say ee te woman was, Sam?” THE ARGOSY. “Name of—oh, I’ve forgot! It doesn’t matter, does it?” He looked at Jack questioningly. Affairs of the heart were to Sam Le- vine mysterious, complicated matters regarding whose effects he knew only what he had observed among his ac- quaintances. Just possibly his com- _panion might be nursing a great sor- row because of Vesta Dawn’s prefer- ence for Horlock. Jack understood the manager’s point of view. He knew it must have been Vesta who had summoned help. She would have been waiting around, as on the previous Sunday, for an oppor- tunity to speak with Horlock. There was nothing to be gained, however, by following up this line of talk. Besides, Sam’s opinion of his performance was of more immediate interest. ‘Probably I am a little slow at spar- ring,’ he admitted. “‘ What do you expect? JI haven’t seen a punching- bag or faced a boxer since the last time I saw you. But it seemed to me that when my punch did come it was more powerful than it used to be.” ‘Sure it was,’ Sam returned. His enthusiasm blazed out with a return to the subject he had made the serious business of his life. “ You got more steam behind it, Jack, than you ever had. There ain’t nobody could take that punch if you sent it across.” “My wind was all right, too,” Jack pursued. ‘“ Of course, working faster on hard canvas | might blow, but it’s pretty good. Nothing like the kind of life I’ve been leading, Sam, to put a man in condition—hard work, plenty of food and sleep, no night restaurants and all that sort of thing.” In the technical, hearty talk which followed the sense of strangeness be- tween the two evaporated. Simulta- neously they arrived at the Farnsworth house and the old footing of mutual confidence. Jack had always liked Sam Levine. He had had sufficient reason for both liking and gratitude, and was ready to COMMICGLOOOKS (C@)