The Argosy, Vol. 84 No. 2 — page 101: what you’re looking at

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

LADIES Red lifted her in the air at arm’s length in one of his maddest whirls. At sight of that Bill Bright dragged his own part- ner over to the music. “That ‘ll do for this one,” he said in a low voice to old Jeff. But Red divined his intention in a mo- ment. “Keep ’er goin’, Jeff!” Red shouted. ** Give us sunthin’ lively! Who-e-e!” Bright’s mastership of the floor was thus openly questioned. His ability as a man had been derided. There was only one answer that he could make, and that he made: “ Who’s runnin’ this ball, anyhow?” “ Keep ’er goin’, Jeff!” Red whooped, and old Jeff sawed ’er down as if the sound of his music had drowned all other sounds. Bright dropped Dora’s waist like a hot fried-cake and started toward old Jeff. Red lifted Mrs. Bright from the floor, car- ried her like a little girl to the wall, and sat her in a chair. Then he cut across to intervene between Bright and Jeff, as he was bound to do. He and Bill Bright met with a crash that was heard clear down in the bar- room. There was a roar as the crowd, which had been waiting for the event of the evening, surged up to see what was taking place. Red had the advantage. He was like a gnarly birch-tree, while Bill Bright had lived on his reputation for some time. Bill landed a futile right and left on Red’s hardwood countenance as Red bored in with loud thumps on Bright’s rolling ribs. | Bright began to stagger back; his breathing was heard at each loud, hollow, thump. “ Red’s got ’m goin’!” Jim Bigger re- marked critically. “‘ Keep ’em back, boys! Give ’em lots of room!”’ With practised organization the woods- men made an ample circle. The per- fumed ball-manager was now getting his, and it was their joy to observe Red’s scientific dressing down of the man who DON’T COUNT, 283 had worn a white collar and bosom shirt. It was like a last half of the ninth inning with two out and 3 to 1 in favor of the home team. But a little bundle of whalebone, iron- wood, and claws suddenly pitched into the scene. With a screech Mrs. Bill Bright landed on Red’s back. She caught Red-by the whiskers with one hand and by the hair with: the other. With her pointed knees she trod upon the small of his back, and with her teeth she took hold of his neck in the outstanding muscles just behind his ear. Red doubled around. With a roar he fell upon his back and turned a _half- somersault. He was like a rabbit in the clutches of an ermine. He could neither escape nor rid himself of the holds that held him. Bright, with the idea of seconding his wile’s motions, charged in; he met Red’s fist in the extension of his waistcoat. Bright sat down hard, and Red escaped to the head of the stairs, where his burden let go. He tripped and bumped down the stairs, kept right on down the lower flight, and so into the outdoors and back to camp. When the Black Creek loggers arrived at the camp Red was asleep in his cot. He positively refused to be awakened by any noise or comments. But when, half an hour or so later, the call for breakfast came Red bounded out of bed with the first of them. ‘Mornin’, Red,” Foreman greeted him. ‘“‘ How yo’ feelin’?”’ ‘“ Purty good,” Red answered. “Yes? Thought you’d be kind a sore this mornin’, after scrappin’ a female wild Cat.” Red laughed. “‘Wa’n’t that the dad-blastedest thing you ever seen? But I know now why Bill Bright wore them collars an’ per- fumery an’ things. He wa’n’t to blame at all.” “That so? Why?” ‘She made him do it.” Bigger COMMICLOOOKS (C@