Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 108: what you’re looking at

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

98 Slim enjoyed the novelty of it; but how- ever heated the discussion or close the game, he left abruptly at stated times and strolled over across the railroad. ‘“‘T gotta good un fer you, Slim,” guf- fawed Fatty Trigg at one of these meet- ings. ‘‘ Old man Noel Tipton was over to my house to-day, an’ offered me fifty cents a day to dig ditches an’ put up fences fer him.” “Well, yer goin’ ter?” ‘Listen to ‘im! What d’you take me fer? After workin’ at th’ coop’rage for two dollars a night? Well, I guess not. Dovie wants me ter, but she ain’t got no sense. She’s a woman.” Soon after this occurrence there was a perceptible falling off in the quality, quan- tity, and frequency of Slim’s grub. Slim bore the hardship stoically and supplement- ed his meager, irregular meals with occa- sional crackers, loose bananas, and other odds and ends of the grocery. When, how- ever, things got so bad that they couldn’t be much worse, he felt justified in remon- strating to Fatty. - He had no surplus flesh to spare through undernutrition. “It’s this way, Slim,” Fatty Trigg ex- plained apologetically; ‘“‘ times is hard, an’ the’s not many people havin’ washin’ done. B’sides, I think Dovie’s suspicious that I’m carryin’ some of the grub off.” Slim swore long and feelingly. He was not responsible for the hard times; certain- ly he could never be accused of affecting the conditions of the laundries. Why then should he suffer? The next day he was at their trysting- place across the railroad before the time for Fatty’s arrival. His soul was heavy within him. The merchants had resented his too frequent visits to their cracker-boxes, and were threatening him with the vagrancy law. And only the night before, while seek- ing a snug place to sleep near a man’s chicken-house, he was shot at with a double-barreled shotgun. And if there was any one thing for which Alabama Slim had less regard than for work, it was a shotgun in the hands of a careless man. . At last he saw Fatty Trigg coming. Even “Dut the’s all I could git. THE ARGOSY. at a distance there was something strange in Fatty’s appearance. When he drew nearer Slim was filled with astonishment. A more battered, bloody, black-and-blue specimen had never come under his obser- vation. What had happened to Fatty, any- way? Surely a mule.had not kicked him—a mule could have hardly kicked in so many places—nor was it a circular saw, which would have sliced him up smoothly and neatly, without bruises, welters, and great, jagged, uneven gashes. ‘“Goramighty!”’ exclaimed Slim. “ Gor- amighty! What’s happened to yer, Fatty?” “Huh, you ain’t seen nothin’ yet,” said the dejected Fatty, removing his hat. ‘Feel thar, would ye?” Slim ran his hand over his friend’s head, finding three viscid knots varying in di- mensions from the size of a large door-knob to that of a small goose-egg. ‘* She done it,” Fatty explained. ‘“‘ She who?” ‘“ Dovie. She’s a reg’lar tiger, that wo- man is. I was puttin’ some victuals in my pocket for you when she catched me an’—” ‘Did yer fetch ’em along?” broke in the famishing Slim. Mr. Trigg paused in his narrative long enough to bring from his pocket about eight pennyweight of dry bread and an onion. : “That all?” Slim cried petulantly. ‘Why, that wouldn’t feed a chicken, even if a chicken was hungry. The’s fleas down to the foundry that would swaller that whole.” And with a gesture of exaspera- tion he threw the tiny morsels as far as he could send them. “Tm sorry, Slim,” said Fatty Trigg, : She catched me takin’ ’em an’ raised a ruckus. Said she’s kep’ up two husban’s by takin’ in washin’, an’ she didn’t reckon she’d begin to feed all the stray tramps in the country. I never could stand fer no woman to get bossy aroun’ me. I remembered the passel of barrel staves beyant the kitchen—an’ here IT am.” What! did?”’ She done that ter yer—Dovie ‘““That’s what I’m tellin’ you; you cane COMiIcloo S (CO