Argosy, Vol. 111, No. 1 — page 44: what you’re looking at

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

a4 holds with whom his family had formerly been most intimate. In each case the “hired girl ” had pointedly reported no one at home. Brooding over his day of failure .at the dismal hotel that evening, he had found companionship in a bibulous traveling man who at dinner-time had already begun to drown out his disgust at having to spend the night in a “dead burg.” Starting with the common bond of grievances against Collinsville, the pair had made a nigit of it, to the delight of the local loafers and the horror of the rest of the village. But it was not the remorse of the morning after which had prompted his quixotic de- mand for the letter of discredit, though it had served to stiffen his wavering reso- lution. His determination to start life over again on the square, with nothing to conceal, he owed to old Bruiser McMahon, a. fellow prisoner who had shared a bench with him in the prison-shop. The Bruiser, as he was known in the underworld, was an habitual criminal, with three years yet to run on his fifth State’s- prison sentence, not counting several minor . jail terms. Under his case-hardened exte- rior he had retained a spark of human kindness that had rekindled on contact with his whole-hearted young bench-mate. In whispered fragments as they worked they had exchanged experiences. “There’s nothin’ to this reform thing, believe me, kid! I’ve tried it,” was the Bruiser’s dictum. ‘“ I wasn’t no more crook than what you was when they sent me up first time. A guy skins me for my little wad at a crooked poker game one night, an’ I jest nacherly beat him up outside an’ takes it back. I gets six months in stir. I comes out hell-bent on cuttin’ out the booze an’ card games an’ the tough bunch. I was for a new deal. ‘“‘T changes my name, goes to a new burg, gets a good job, an’ was makin’ good. Did they give me a chance? Not! My rep follows me. Somebody wises the boss to me bein’ an ex-con, an’ I gits the bounce. I tries seven new burgs an’ seven new mon- nikers before I gives up. No use. So I goes back to the hold-up game, an’ here I be. I’ll go back to it again when I’m out o’ THE ARGOSY. here. I’ll be a wrong un till I croak, an’ so will you, kid, believe me! So will you! ‘“But you, now, you got a good graft. You're a Gentleman Jim. If I could ’a’ handled a pen like you I’d ’a’ laid by a pile by now, believe me. But I got nothin’ but my two fists to work with. Don’t kid your- self with this startin’-over stuff. They’ll get next to ye every time. Play the game now yer in it.” . Bradwell had pondered long over the Bruiser’s advice. He, too, had been plan- ning flight to a distant city and a new name, and a fresh start. His fellow-prisoner’s experience gave him dismal pause. His ad- venturous young blood leaped momentarily at the prospect of excitement in the career of a gentlemanly soldier of fortune. But he came of honest stock, and was_essentially honest himself despite his one hectic vear of crime on which he had embarked in a mo- ment of thoughtless impulse. On second consideration his whole being revolted against a return to it. So gradually he shaped a philosophy of his own and formed his resolution. ‘‘ Bruiser,’ he whispered to his bench- mate a week before his discharge, ‘“ I’ve thought it all over. I’m going to take your tip on the starting-over game, but I’m going to copper it. You're right about not trying to change my name and hide my past. I’m going somewhere on my own name and tell "em all about myself at the start. When I find a place that “Il take me on my record and give me a chance, I’m going to stick, and I’m going to go straight and make good. And Bruiser, old boy, I won’t forget you. You’ve given me a good tip. When your'e . out of here I’ll be in a position to give you an honest job, and I’ll send for you,” ‘“‘ Yer heart’s in the right place, kid, but yer plumb nutty, plumb nutty,” was the Bruiser’s only comment. CHAPTER III. TESTING HUMAN NATURE. THE day following his farewell to his native village found Bradwell begin- ning his test of human charity. He had picked upon Buffalo as the nearest large GOMIIGIOO S (CO