The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 1 — page 70: what you’re looking at

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

60 THE To have fallen to looting that window and the others whose contents had been laid bare all around him would have been the farthest thing from his thoughts a year before. He was doing now just what he would have done then. He was acting upon the impulse of any member of his station in life at such a time—to uphold law and order. Caywood lifted up his voice in a word- less shout to the first person in sight. It was the man with the down-at-heel ap- pearance who had passed him but the moment before, that came running back down the glass-littered sidewalk in response to his summons. - “Go and find a policeman!’ Caywood ordered him. ‘I'll stay here to watch the stuff that’s in this window till somebody gets here.” The man stepped nearer. His eyes traveled from the watches that lay within easy reach behind Caywood to that young man’s face, and a shrewd gleam lighted them. “ Hold on a minute, bo,” he said in a furtive undertone. “‘ Do you know what you’re doin’? Here’s a chance throwed your way and mine to get out of the down-and-out class it looks like we was both in. We can fill our pockets and nobody—” “TI know what I’m doing,’ Caywood cut in shortly. ‘I’m telling you to get a policeman to come and stand guard over this stuff. Hurry up and do as I say!” The man drew back, with what seemed to be a look of relief overspreading his face. From the corner below a whistle sounded. It was echoed, in the distance, by two or three others. An officer, with drawn club, came running toward. them. The man in ‘the ragged clothes who stood ARGOSY. beside Caywood, jerked his head in his direction. “The cops are coming,” he said in a brisk, changed tone of voice, “ to protect this rich harvest all around here from being gathered in by thieves. let me tell you something, young fellow: I’m glad I’ve found out that’s not what you are. I’ve been following you for the past hour, to prove, if I could, whether you were what the first look I took at you made me think you were—honest. I’ve got a proposition to put up to you now.” He drew a bill from his pocket, un- folding it to let Caywood see that it was of twenty-dollar denomination, “T’ll pay you this,” he went on, “ if you'll act as my substitute for one week. I’m an operative of a private detective agency that’s been engaged to locate a party who is thought to have dropped into the hobo ranks here in New York, My wife’s sick, and I want to go home to Shamokin and see her. “If I asked my firm to let me off, they might let me go and tell me I needn’t come back; so I’m offering you—an hon- est chap in hard luck—a chance to earn twenty dollars by getting into conversa- tion with park-bench loafers, and so on, as I’ve been doing, and trying to find out if any of them have met a fellow named William Caywood, whose father wants him to come home and bygones will be by- gones—”’ He broke off, steadying the other, who had swayed in his tracks. ‘“‘ What’s the matter?” he demanded so- licitously. “‘ You aren’t sick, are you?” The young man smiled at him faintly and shook his head. “Just a little weak, that’s all,” he told him. ‘“ You see, I’m Caywood.” ‘ INSUFFICIENCY. “ONE kiss!” A paltry gift to Love: Suppose the sea should say Unto the shore—“ I’ve sent one wave— That’s all you'll get to-day!” Harry Kemp. COPNICLOCK<S And now. (@)