The Argosy, Vol. 83 No. 1 — page 79: what you’re looking at

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

HAMPTON OF Presently it seemed that the men were intent on rending each other’s garments. Delroy ripped Foxford’s collar and shirt open in what appeared to be an effort to get at his inside pockets, and he took a deal of punishment during the operation, so intent was he upon his object. Pres- ently Foxford took advantage of his care- lessness of defense and got a crushing grip upon his throat. There was a gasp and a gurgle, and Delroy began struggling frantically. “That’ll do!” cried Jerry. up.” Foxford expressed a disinclination to obey in forceful terms. Jerry said no more, but sprang upon the struggling heap and became a third party to the scrimmage. Foxford met him with a blow aimed at the jaw, but Jerry guarded and countered to the same ob- jective with more success. Foxford let go of.Delroy altogether and grappled with the new foe. They rolled over and over in the gravel, while Delroy recovered himself and strove valiantly to aid his ally. A sharp whistle sounded out of the darkness to the south, and was repeated twice at intervals of some ten seconds.’ I'oxford made a supreme effort and freed himself from his opponent, and before Jerry could spring to his feet he was off like a shot, running in the direction of the whistle. “After him—dquick!” cried Delroy. “He’s got it, and he’ll get away.” “Wait—stop!” ordered Hampton, but Delroy was off, making southward at an unbelievable clip, at the risk of running into the arms of the police. Jerry stood still for a moment, putting his disordered attire to right and reflecting. on his part in the comedy with mingled anger and amusement. Down the boulevard, where the two men had just disappeared, somebody cried out shrilly, but the cry was cut short as though the person who uttered it was stricken at the moment. “There’s no end to the thing!” ex- “Let him ° THE HEIGHTS. 69 claimed Hampton, and started running toward the new theatre of war. CHAPTER XX. THE GRAY OF DAWN. HAMPTON kept a sharp watch ahead for trouble as he neared the scene of the recent escape from the shooting gal- lery, but the broad stretches of lawn to the right of the walk were quiet and nothing happened to check him. The towering Washington Bridge, spanning the Harlem River at One Hundred and Eighty-First Street loomed above him, and as he ran down the grade where the path curves un- der the supports of the bridge, he all but stumbled upon the motionless form of Delroy. A hurried examination showed that the man had been knocked out by a blow on the head, probably struck with a black- jack. ‘There was no abrasion, such as a club would have made, but a rising welt indicated the nature of the attack. Jerry picked him up and laid him on one of the benches at the side of the path. He slid down the grassy bank to the water’s edge and filled his cap with water. It ran through the soft cloth rapidly, but there was enough left to throw in the man’s face and to cool his throbbing head for a moment. Three times Jerry filled the cap, and the last cold dash brought a gasp and a pro- testing wriggle from the patient. Presently Delroy sat up and tried to get on his feet. “Hold hard!” exclaimed Jerry. “You’re not going on any more chases to-night, you know. I didn’t think that an ordi- nary man could go through so many knock-outs and recoveries in one day.” Delroy sighed heavily and leaned back on the bench. e ‘““They—they jumped on me wunexpect- edly,” he said weakly, “but I saw them— Kingsale and that foreign-looking fellow!” “Great gods!” cried Jerry, “are they all ‘at it still? What became of Foxford?” JOOKS com (G (©)