The Argosy, Vol. 82, No. 3 — page 197: what you’re looking at

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

A WATCHFUL WAITER. He stopped, flinging up his head in a listening attitude. “ What’s that?” he whispered. ‘ Do you hear it?” A metallic rapping, followed by a whirr- ing as of the wings of some gigantic bird in flight, fell upon their ears. “1 know what it is,” Jeff cried out, “a United States aeroplane! Those fiends must have heard it, too, and that’s what scared ’em. If I’m right, you’re goin’ to be saved, anyway—an’ so’s the town, too, if we can only get in touch with that birdman.” But fate was kind, and the army officer brought his machine to earth just then to make some slight repairs. Jeff and Mrs. Miller ran breathlessly up to him. ‘“There’s a band of Villa’s outlaws on their way to wipe out the town,” Jeff blurted out. ‘“‘Quick—take my wife aboard that air-ship with you, and fly there with her to give ’em the alarm. You can squeeze in one more with you. Quick, quick! Don’t stop to ask questions, or none of us ‘Il leave here alive. The greasers are after us, my wife an’ me, right now. Get aboard, Bess. Start ’er goin’, officer—for yer life!” “ But, Jeff, what of you?” Hastily kissing her, Jeff helped his wife into the seat beside the officer, who had already sprung aboard the aeroplane and had its steering wheel in his hands. ‘““Never mind about me!” answered Miller. “I can hold ’em off, I guess. Good-by, old girl!” The body of Jeff Miller was found at daybreak by the United States troops. With his empty revolver still clutched in his hand, he had been propped up against a mound of stones in the mouth of the ravine where he had tried to hold his slayers off, his back turned toward the town. Pinned to the bosom of his shirt was a page torn from his memorandum-book. On it was scrawled in Spanish the warn- ing: ‘““ Remember, gringoes!”’ The captain of the troop gave the bugler the command to sound the advance—over the border. And he voiced the thought that was in the minds of all who rode with him when he muttered: “Yes, you dogs, we’ll remember!” HOUSEHOLD GODS HE sofa and the big armchair Were holding téte-a-téte (Drawn up before a feeble fire That flickered in the grate), The family had gone to bed; "Twas very, very late! The sofa moved its weary springs With reminiscent creak; “Thank goodness! Jane’s young man has braced His courage up to speak! He’s tried to say ‘I love you’ now For many and many a week!” * My, yes!” the armchair yawned assent, “T saw the symptoms, too— Of late he’s given me a rest To sit next Jane on you!” “They spoon for hours!” the sofa groaned— “TI need upholstering new! * These family love affairs have worn Me out. Oh, such a bore! This is the fifth I’ve chaperoned ’— (The chair began to snore. The fire went out—the sofa dozed— And silence reigned once more.) Mazie V. Caruthers. <S) 571 Gomichoo (E@)