The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 167: what you’re looking at

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

— REINDEER ON THE ROOF, ‘““T haven’t a pen or pencil,” Crofton almost wailed. ‘‘ Can’t we throw some- thing off the roof, to attract attention? I wouldn’t want to hurt any one in the street, but—” “You must know,” Spencer interrupt- ed, “ that it takes a good deal to attract the attention of the New York public. Once you have succeeded in getting it, you have the undivided attention of a howling mob, but I might jump off the roof myself, and no one would come up here to see where and how the jump started. I don’t see what we can do un- less we find something to write with. If you could get off a message, offering a reasonable reward for relief, it might work satisfactorily; but again it might not even be picked up. If you could write a message and throw it down with something of conspicuous value, the re- sults would probably be prompt in ap- pearing. We couldn’t throw a watch down, of course, but if you had a pack- age of considerable value—” “There are too many ‘ifs’ in your proposition to be of any use!” snapped Crofton. ‘‘ We haven’t anything to write with, so there’s no use thinking of it.” He smoked violently and fell to pacing the roof. “With your overcoat on,” he said pres- ently, “you have no conception of the cold. I am numb; I am losing all feeling in my arms and legs.”’ “One of your parcels appears to con- tain cloth or wearing apparel,’’ Spencer said solicitously. “ If it were only a piece of cloth, you know, you might wrap it around you and—” Crofton apparently did not relish the suggestion, but he promptly fell upon the largest of the packages and tore off its wrappings. Then there came to view a magnificent woman’s coat of sable and ermine, full skirted and furnished with elaborate embellishments of collar, cuffs and facings. The colonel snorted and muttered to himself, but he put the garment on and wrapped its folds snugly about him. 157 “You look for all the world like a Muscovite prince,” remarked Spencer. “More like a muscovy duck, you mean,” snarled the other. ‘“ But be sure I don’t look a bit more like a fool than I feel.” The cold strengthened as the evening advanced, and Spencer himself took to pacing the roof, with hands in pockets and collar turned up to his ears. The colonel wailed no more about the frost, but grew more sulky and taciturn as the sense of confinement grew upon him. ‘I wouldn’t smoke all the cigars to- night, if I were you,” Spencer advised, “you may need them badly to-morrow.” “Tl do as I like with them,” returned the other ungraciously; “I bought them from you, didn’t I?” “As my company can do you no good,” sald Spencer, at the next meeting, “I think I'll turn in and try to sleep the night away if I can.” “Turn in!” almost yelled the other. ‘Where? How? Are you losing your mind?” : “That little shack over by the water- tank, where I was sitting when you ar- rived, is comparatively comfortable,” Spencer explained. “I can sit on an in- verted water-pail and lean against the wall. It affords protection from the wind, at least. I wouldn’t monopolize it, but there’s a similar structure at the other end of the roof, you see, and I would recommend it to you as a lodging for the night.” “About as good as a refrigerator, I fancy,” sneered the colonel. ‘“ All right, go ahead; I'll excuse you. I may look over the other place later, but I'll keep on walking for a while.” Spencer retired from view and dis- turbed the colonel’s reflections for a time with a great rattling of iron pails and other superfluous furniture. He could not lie down in the shack, but he fash- ioned a tolerable seat for himself and considered the situation as philosophical- ly as possible. - S ECOPMIECLOOO (E©)