The Argosy, August 1914 — page 94: what you’re looking at

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

84 “But how did you happen to run across me here?”. Jack asked, revert- ing to his earlier question. “It’s the last place on earth I should have ex- pected to see you.” “Have a cigar, Jack, and I'll tell you. What, no smoking? Perhaps it’s just as well. My doctor tells me ’’—as he neatly severed the end of a black perfecto and. flipped the waste over the rail—*‘he tells me that I’ve jot to cut down. Talks about my heart and wind being bad. They’ve been nothing to brag of for thirty years, but so far as I can see, begad, I’m likely to outlast the man that gives me the advice.”’ Jack waited patiently while he lighted his cigar and tasted the first fragrant mouthful. “You asked how I happened to ‘find you?” his uncle resumed. “ Well, in the end it was through this gentle- man here.” He nodded sidewise at Sam Levine. “But Sam never knew me as any- thing but Jack Garrett.” ‘“‘T see you've got to have the whole story,” his uncle said. “So here goes. For almost five years you were hope- lessly lost. I tried every way I knew how to locate you. Your old uncle, Jack, isn’t so far gone but that he understood why you pulled out, and if you’d only had the sense to come and talk it over with me everything would have been all right. I might have blown off some steam, but I’ve never been hard on you, boy. Isn’t that. sar” | “Indeed it is, Uncle Lawrie. I was a fool,” Jack repented. “Yes, you were—but never mind _that now. Well, along last March, or may be April, that silly young ass, Derry Travers, came up to me at the club—never ought to have been elect- ed, and [ told the membership com- mittee so—and said he had seen you the night before. It seems Travers has the vicious habit of going to prize- fights, a thing no gentleman does. He had the audacity-to say he’d seen you THE ARGOSY. everlastingly pounded at one of those sinks of depravity.” “What is that is a what you call it?’ demanded Levine, awakening to the fact that his profession was being slandered. “T beg your pardon, Mr. Levine. I forgot myself,” exclaimed Mr. Fol- llansby readily. ‘‘ Purely private views, I assure you. Well, naturally I knew Travers was lying, so I hunted up this gentleman for the sake of proving it. Conceive of my astonishment, Jack, when what I learned from him led me to suspect Derry Travers might have been telling the truth after all. I looked up your navy record—there were your first two names, date of enlistment corresponding with the time of your disappearance, and all that. “The next time I saw Mr. Levine he had dug up a photograph, and I saw at once that it was my scapegrace nephew. But you had vanished again, more completely than before. It quite threw me off my feed, Jack, to have been so near finding you and missing. You young villain, you ought to be ashamed of yourself! ” —- tami, cancle,”” Jak admitted, lay- ing a hand on the other’s knee. “‘ But go on. I don’t see even yet—’” “ How I caught up with you at last? Through our good friend, Mr, Levine here. I got a letter from him yester- day, took the first train, caught the boat, and here I am at my time of life without a man to see to me, and very likely with a touch of gout com- ing on. Now, what have you got to say for yourself?” “Not a thing except that I am still ashamed and as sorry as I can be to have made you so much _ trouble, uncle,’ Jack replied. His uncle looked on him fondly. “Since it’s all ended so well, you young rascal, never mind,” said he. “We will get you into some respect- able clothes and start all over again. I will even try to swallow my disgust at learning that you had turned prize- fighter for a time—a brutal occupa- (C@ MMICLDOOLES (C@