The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 148: what you’re looking at

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

522 & “That’s darned funny,” Jimmy mut- tered. ‘‘ Her valve adjustment’s O. K., too. Now what in the devil has he done to this poor old boat?” He flooded the carb by holding up the tickling pin. ‘“ Why, she’s just got to start,” says he, and kicked the motor over, but she didn’t move. Jim put his fingers under the dripping carb and got some of the juice on them; then he smelled of his fingers; then he looked over at me with the blamedest funny expression on his face you ever saw. ‘“ Ole,” he says to the bonehead, ‘“‘ where, oh, where in the lova Heaven did you get this gasoline?” “T got him over dere,” answers Ole proudly; and what do you suppose he pointed at? A watering trough by the road- side! I never felt so happy in my life before. I just pranced over and hugged Ole; for a moment I was afraid I might kiss him, and I guess he was afraid of that, too, for he backed away some sudden. “Ole,” says I, wiping away the tears, ‘““vou’re there, boy; you’re there! And I'll buy you a candy cigar if-you’ll tell me how you came to think a motorcycle engine would run on water?” ‘Ay see automobile fella fill his tank wid water yoost a leetle vile ago,” and Ole glanced from Conway to me, and back to Conway. : His expression said plainer than words: “You bane pooty smart fellas, but Ay got you yoost the same.” Conway looked at me sorrowfully. ‘We sure oughta kill it!” he said. “‘ The poor simp saw some one fill a radiator, and now every watering trough along the road’s a free gas station: Honest, we oughta kill it.” . “ Not while I’m around,’ I says. “ It ’Il suffer terribly, I know; but it ’d rather suffer than be dead.” Then we got busy on the stalled ma- chine. If you know anything about gas engines, you realize how much trouble a little water in the gasoline will make. And this was worse; it was a little gas in a tank- ful of water. We had to take the tank out of the frame and drain every last drop of liquid from it. Then we put it in the hottest patch of sunshine we could find to dry out, and after that the carb had to be dissected THE ARGOSY. and freed from the contaminating influence of H20. The whole job took pretty close to an hour. When everything was O. K. again, Conway dug up his rubber tubing. ‘“ Suppose you start the siphon,” he says tome. “TI haven’t got the taste out of my mouth yet.” ‘ Outside with that,” I grinned. ‘“‘ Lemme give you an earful. We’re doing it all for Ole, ain’t we? Well, elect him the goat.” Conway reached over and grabbed me by the mitt. “The drinks are on me,” he says, “ for not thinking of that myself.” Then he turned to the Swede. “Listen, Ole,” and he was as serious as a minister starting the marriage ceremony; “it’s against the law to run a motorcycle on water, and besides it ain’t done in our best families any more. Now we’re going to get some gas from my tank into yours. Start sucking on this tube, but don’t drink more’n a pint, because my supply’s getting low.” Well, Ole would do absolutely any- thing you told him to—once. He began sucking like a thirsty elephant, and the lung-power he exhibited was sure astound- ing. I don’t know how much gas he actu- ally swallowed, but it was a good whiff; he was traveling so fast he just couldn’t stop until a generous dose went down his intake- ipe. Then —whoof! and likewise — wow! Those two eyes of Ole’s bulged out like toy balloons, and, great shades of punc- tured tires, how he did spit! ‘“ Hey there! Hava heart, Ole!” yells Conway, ducking away from the deluge. “T ain’t got a raincoat on. That’s what you get for trying to hog it. Didn’t I tell you not to drink more’n pint? Why don’t you use your bean?” We tried to induce Ole to tackle the siphon business again; but nothing doing. He was real polite about it; thanked us and all that sort of thing, but the Angel Gabriel himself could never have made Ole trust his lips to that deadly little tube a second time. : “Tm cured!” said Ole in Scandinavian, or something that sounded like that. In the end I did the job myself; I sucked mighty gently, and by good luck managed to start the siphon without getting more than a few drops of gas in my mouth. Even that little bit left a dark-brown taste EOPMICLOOOKS (E@)