The Argosy, Vol. 81, No. 4 — page 161: what you’re looking at

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

CASTLES expression of startled wonder on his weath- er-beaten face. “Why, you are not Harry Bradley!” he gasped. ‘You are an impostor!” A second or so he hesitated, then im- pulsively shot out his big fist. “Anyhow, I want to shake hands with you,” he said. “You are a brave man,’ And their fingers closed in a hearty grip. They moved away from where they were standing and sought a more protected posi- tion. The fog still lay heavy all about them, shutting in the scene of the Essbee’s death struggle as within the opaque walls of an amphitheatre. The sea beneath was as gray and smoky as the nebulous veil above, except where the hollows showed black and hungry between the rounded combers. | It was a desolate prospect—as desolate as a battle-field after the fighting is over, with the ground riven and bare of all vege- - tation, and the long lines of successive trenches for the burial of the dead. There was no roar or racket of dashing waves, only an uncanny stillness and an oily swash as those big mountains of gray- green water slid past—a sort _of a choking sob the sound was, with a murmurous un- dertone like the ‘soughing of the wind through a churchyard on a rainy November evening. The skipper broke the silence by snap- ping open the case of his watch. “There’s a chance—mind you, I don’t want to raise any false hopes, but there’s a chance if the old girl stays afloat just a lit- tle while longer that we may be picked up.” “Eh?” Tom, who had been absorbed in his own meditations, roused himself with a start. “Ves,” the other nodded, “the General Burnside and the Idano both got our posi- tion before the wireless failed, and signaled that they were standing by to render assist- ance. be showing up pretty soon now.” He paused and hesitated a moment. “What are you wanted for?” he questioned clumsily. Tom laughed. “Name it anything you please, cap, and you can’t well go wrong. ‘The list runs all the way from murder to malaria. Why? Were you figuring on turning me over, and collecting a reward?” The skipper gave him a disgusted leok. “Quit your kidding,” he growled. “I was IN One or the other of them ought to ~ THE AIR. 727 only thinking it might be wise for me to know a little about the facts. If we’re picked up, they’re apt to be a bit curious as to who you are, and we don’t want to be telling different stories, you know.” “Oh, I see.”” ‘Tom’s tone softened. “Let me tell you, you’re ‘some man’ yourself, old top. However, you needn’t be afraid that you'll have to strain your conscience very hard over me. To tell you the truth, my chief offense is that I am persona non egos to Harry Bradley.” The captain bent a quick glance at him, the light of a dawning comprehension in his keen eyes. “Ah? I get you now.” His face showed his relief. ‘‘You’re that cut-up cousin of his. I couldn’t figure somehow that you were a regular crook.” He broke suddenly into a booming burst of uncontrollable laughter. ‘‘And to think,” he chuckled, ‘‘that you walked right out of all the traps he had set for you, and actually made your getaway on one of his own boats—free passage at that.” Again his sides shook. “But, say,” he sobered abruptly, “you can’t carry it off any further, young fellow. If you go to playing Captain Harry Brad- ley for a survivor of this voyage, you'll get shown up so quick that it’ll make your hair Curt,” ‘‘Never fear, cap, I had no intention of trying to pull anything so raw as that. Wait a minute,” and Tom brightened with a sudden inspiration, “what were the names of those two men who had the state- room next to mine? No. 15A it was.” The skipper thought a moment. “Sure. I remember them,” he nodded. “They were down for my table. One of them was S. Fenton on the list and the other T. J. Bates.” “Very well, then; one or the other of those names is the one I’ll take.” “But, my boy, you can’t do that. You’re apt to run right into those men first dash out of the box.” i “T shall not run into them,” Tom spoke with a grim significance. ‘And, further- more, as I have every reason to believe that the names upon the list were assumed, I am not expecting any trouble from the use of them. Fenton is the one I'll choose, I think. Yes; hereafter, captain, please re- member that I am Mr. S. Fenton, a horse buyer, who—” CORMICLOOOLKS (C@