The Argosy, Vol. 82 No. 2 — page 39: what you’re looking at

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

GETTING AWAY the garage man began blankly, and then stepped aside briskly as the car shot head- long across the bridge, over the railroad tracks and thundered straight on up hill. Later—and only miles and miles later, when the sun had vanished behind the black hills and Cragg had been forced to slow down upon a particularly bad patch of road —Aunt Hettie found voice to say oddly: “Tt seems almost impossible that the Gestling tribe should go to such lengths!” “Ves,” said Mary Callum, “‘because—”’ Impolitely, Mr.- Farnham interrupted with a crash. “T’ll tell you,” he said. “I’ve been think- ing the thing over as we ran and, whoever it may be that is trying to join us, we don’t want them. If it was any one who knew that they’d be welcome, they’d have given their names and their message and all the rest of it. As it is, we’ll fool ’em!” “Fool them?” Jane echoed. “Tf they’re keeping the telephone wires hot, we’re likely enough to be held up in every village we pass—or a car with our li- cense number is, at any rate. The answer is simple,” beamed Mr. Farnham. “We'll change the license number.” Cragg half turned. “That’s a crime, boss!” he announced. “Ts it?” said Farnham. “Then stop the car and we’ll commit a crime.” “Do you know what they can do to you for using a false number?” Cragg asked. “No, but I can stand it, whatever it is,” erinned the helpful person. “You unscrew the confounded tags, Cragg. Where’s some pasteboard about the same size?” Cragg descended gloomily and opened his toolbox. ‘“There’s boxes that the inner tubes came in, under the seat,” he said. ‘They might do.” “And if we’re caught at this stunt—” Hapworthy began anxiously. “T’ll confess and go to the gallows with a smile on my lips, Happy,” said Mr. Farn- ham. “Get up. I think they must be un- der you.” Grinning, his fountain-pen was out even before Mr. Hapworthy had passed him the pasteboard boxes. Grinning still, Mr. Farn- ham considered their own number critically, pondered a moment and then scratched bus- ily. Until: “There!” he said. ‘“G 1200—that’s dis- tinctly different. Put that one on the back, Cragg, while I make another for the front.” FROM THOMPSON. 221 Again the pen scratched, while Mary Cal- lum asked timidly whether, in the event of somebody’s arrest, the others would be held as material witnesses; and if so held, whether they could be admitted to bail; and, this being possible, whether her fath- er’s property, which was all in New York City, would serve as security in this wild and remote section of the State. Mary had relapsed into frightened silence and Aunt Hettie was just tuning up for a discourse on the improbability of a Gestling pursuit and the likelihood that the vengeful man of the red bread wagon was following them after all, when Mr. Farnham stepped back to his place and addressed Jane: “They'll have a hard job stopping a car with those numbers on—now! ‘They’re down in the bottom of the junk under the seat.” Once more the big six thundered on its endless way, into the twilight and very shortly into the black night. For some time they had been in the depths of the real forest, houses had been a real novelty this last thirty miles or so and the woods were growing blacker and more sombre every minute, with the early evening gloom that precedes a late moon. To a marked and growing degree, weari- ness and tension were in the atmosphere of Jane’s party. Mr. Farnham sensed them and took to peering intently at the road- side, until suddenly he touched Cragg and said: “Wait! Back up a bit and then run into that little open space—see it? My eyes may be off, but I think I spotted a natural clearing in there.”’ Their driver obeyed; they backed and started forward again cautiously, over road- side ruts and in between trees; until, when they were quite out of sight of the highway, Mr. Farnham’s voice came again in a de- lighted: “There! Look at it! It might have been made for camping. Just see the ground—solid pine needles and nearly an acre of them. There is a brook, too; this is the place for us.”’ The tomblike silence of six exhausted hu- mans answered him, yet Mr. Farnham was not disheartened. He stepped down blithe- ly and assumed full command. ‘Just turn her around, when they’re out, so that the lights are on the clearing, Cragg, and then dim them a little. We'll find the camp lanterns presently. Now I haven’t CORmMICLOokKs (C@